Today I am featuring a guest author who has agreed to send us one of her characters for an interview. Please join me in welcoming author, Mary Marvella, and her character from
Protective Instincts, Brit Roberts.
Hi, I'm Brit and I'm a Georgia Woman. I'm a teacher. Three years ago my husband died in a hit and run accident and I've been grieving for the lose of my best friend. My friend Julie, a math teacher, told me about an opening for a language arts teacher in her school and insisted I apply for it and get our of my parents house and back into the real world.
I'm sorry for your loss, Brit. I'm sure it's still a struggle. Tell us what you want more than anything in life.
I want to feel whole again and teach, instead of wallowing in grief. I want to make the police find my husband's killer!
I can't imagine, but I think I'd want that, too. What is preventing you from obtaining your soul’s desire?
Memories of our time together keep slipping into my head. I can't forget out last conversation and what I asked him to do.
It sounds like you really love your husband. Do you believe in love at first sight? Soul mates? Twin Flames? If so, why?
All of the above. I adored Tommy the minute I saw him. He was my other half. We understood each other as best friends and lovers. We wanted to help people.
How do you fall in love? Blind? Slowly? Quickly? Hard?
For my first husband it was slow and hard. We were best friends and losing him was like losing half of myself.
With love like that, I can see how it's hard to move forward. How about you. Name one attribute that you are most proud of.
I'm proud of my patience and that I am actually coming back to life. I'm stubborn to a fault, but if I believe in something or someone, I'll fight for it.
A fighter for life. Good for you. In contrast, what’s your big issue? Everyone has one. Tell us yours.
Guilt. I can't tell you why, but I failed my husband and shared some responsibility for his death. I can't risk failing another person, especially a man. No new love for me!
Have you found the one? If so, what makes him/her so special?
I thought I had, but he is dead. How likely is it that I could find someone else so perfect for me?
I've heard before that unless you try, the answer will always be No. What are you most afraid of?
I eluded to this in a previous question. I fear causing someone else's death if I care too much for him. I can be stubborn, or my mama says, hard headed, and I don't follow orders. What if I love someone else and I mess up again?
We all take risks. Mess up. Learn. I can tell you have. But right here, right now, what is most important to you?
They met because he had premonitions and she was in peril. But you will never believe why they fell in love. Paranormal romance at its best.
After mourning the loss of her husband, Brit Roberts manages to pick up her life as a teacher for a rural Georgia High school. Things are fine until anonymous phone calls turn creepy and her life is endangered. It's not until Sam Samuels, shows up to check on her that she finds a little peace, if not a slight attraction to the handsome yet meddling security specialist.
Sam Samuels isn't just the father of one of Ms. Robert's students, he's a man with premonitions so strong, they make him ill. So when he meets his son's teacher and pain kicks in, he knows something's awry but can't put his finger on it until he interrupts an attempt to kill the teacher. Sam makes it his personal goal to protect her, only he didn't count on falling for her.
Someone wants Brit, and now Sam, dead too. Could the death of her ex husband be part of the reason? Can Brit and Sam navigate a relationship despite both of their headstrong natures?
Half asleep, Brit reached for the ringing phone. She was disoriented from a dream that left her breathless. She'd seen Tommy's body fly over the hood of the truck that hit him. She'd heard herself scream. Then she'd seen a masked man staring at her, his look menacing. When he'd started toward her, she'd turned and run 'til she couldn't catch her breath.
The pleasant fragrance of the garden sized arrangement in her dining room now permeated her bedroom, cloying, oppressive. She glanced bleary-eyed at the luminous clock. Two o'clock? Who'd call at this hour but family with an emergency? She snatched up the handset.
She cleared her throat and gathered her wits about her. "Hello."
"Havin' a real nice night, sugar?" The voice, raspy, deep, and very southern made her skin crawl.
"Who are you calling?" She tried to sound reasonable. "Wrong number? Please check your numbers before you call again. You keep getting me instead of whoever..."
"Did you enjoy the little romantic surprises, darlin'?" His voice was a cross between a caress and an insult.
"Surprises? What surprises?" At that moment, she realized. Her chest constricted. She bolted upright in bed so quickly her head swam.
"Aren't the flowers gorgeous? Beautiful flowers for a beautiful lady. Intoxicatin' fragrances, huh?"
"Who are you? Am I supposed to I know you?" "Not as well as I know you, lovely lady."
"Why – How did you change my order? Who are you?"
"You deserve beautiful things," he purred.
"But you shouldn't send me gifts. I mean it." She didn't recognize his voice or the lazy southern drawl. "The flowers were extravagant. The food was way past too much." She hit her pillow.
He seemed to ignore her. "You need a new robe, silky, sheer, and black, Sugar. That's some sexy body under all that terry cloth, smooth, sweet, warm from sleep. Are your beautiful, white breasts aching to be touched?"
Brit gasped, yanked bed covers to her chin. Someone had been in her house, had invaded her space. Her expensive dinner, the one he'd had sent, threatened to come back up. "Look, whoever you are --"
"Is the sweet place between your thighs wet, Darlin'? Bet you're wanting it as much as I do." A long pause was followed by, "Oh-h-h, Sugar, love the old claw foot tub. I can wash your ...."
She'd hoped to learn who the pervert was by using her head and staying calm. Don't let him get to you. She swallowed hard before she could speak without choking. "I'm too tired for this," she started to hang up. She'd hit star-whatever, then call the police.
Maybe she'd use a neighbor's phone, so he couldn't listen.
"Bet your heart's just pumpin' away, 'ma bella'. See you soon. Think about me, Darlin'. See you in my sweet dreams."
Mary Marvella has been a storyteller for as long as she can remember. She made up the "Let's Pretend" situations for the neighborhood kids. The arrival of the book mobile was as exciting as hearing the music of the ice cream truck, more, since she could check out books but seldom had the money for the ice cream. Her parents preferred letting her walk to the corner store for less money. She still pinches pennies.
When Mary's daughter was small, story time often meant Mama made up stories. Now retired from teaching the classic works of the masters, Mary writes her own stories and reads modern novels.
Georgia raised, she writes stories with a Southern flair. Mary has published 4 novels and 2 novellas and has stories in 5 anthologies. She has 2 more novels due out, one by the end of July, 2015. She edits for Gilded Dragonfly Books and freelance.
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