From Vonnie: "Writers are asked the universal question by non-writers: Where do your ideas come from? Mine come from a dream, a news snippet on the radio, an overheard conversation in a restaurant or a blog—especially when the post is entitled Love Darts and Escargot.
"Last year," Vonnie continuied, "lovely and talented author Rolynn Anderson wrote such a post. The title intrigued me, so I clicked on the link to read what she had to say. I was chuckling over the engaging way she’d written about snails shooting love darts as part of their foreplay when I got a visual of a man in a bar getting hit by a dart. The woman who threw it had been jostled, throwing off her aim. Used to voicing his opinion, the man charges toward her to give her a piece of his mind, but the woman is so talkative—a verbal buzz-saw—he can’t get a word in. I sat there, staring off and laughing as the opening scene played out.
"I opened a new document and wrote the first chapter. Rough, of course, but I was off and running. That’s how Back Where You Belong, part of the Honky Tonk Hearts series was conceived.
"Little did Rolynn Anderson know she’d become my muse—talk about being multi-talented. She’s wearing hats she didn’t even know she had!"
Blurb: Back Where you Belong
While shooting pool at the Lonesome Steer Honky Tonk, rancher Tyler Desmond takes an errant dart in the neck. Ready to retaliate, he’s instead captivated by the blonde who threw it. Tyler isn’t interested in opening his heart, so why does he kiss the verbal buzz saw? Just to shut her up?
As a teenager, Lacy LaRoche had a secret crush on Tyler. When the dart brings them face-to-face, all she can do is chatter—until he kisses her. But Lacy didn’t come back to Texas to fall in love. She’s hiding another secret: her roommate surreptitiously videotaped Lacy undressing and posted it on the internet.
When Tyler’s daughter is bullied at school, Lacy must reveal the truth and face the emotional damage of cyberbullying. Over-protective of his daughter—and his heart—Tyler must learn to trust again. Can two scarred hearts find their way back to where they belong?
EXCERPT (My opening scene thanks to Rolynn):
What the hell?
Tyler Desmond whirled away from the shot he was about to make at the pool table to grasp for whatever caused the sudden, stinging pain at the back of his neck. When his fingers closed around a dart, he yanked the offending object out, searching through the crowd in the Lonesome Steer Honky Tonk for the bastard who dared throw one at him.
His cousin Billy Wayne leaned in close as if to examine the dart’s point of entry. “Damn, that’s gotta hurt.”
Tyler’s eyes narrowed on the culprit. The object of his wrath stood about eight feet away, her face glowing red like embers in a branding fire and eyes mushrooming when his gaze zeroed in on hers. He handed his cue stick to Billy Wayne and growled, “Not as much as one female’s about to. You can be damn sure of that.”
Three women, her friends no doubt, scurried back to their table, leaving her to face him alone. He slowly sauntered toward her, gathering his words as he approached. He’d cut many men to size with his acidic tongue. This woman would be no different.
Nervous hands clasped and unclasped and then fiddled with curly blonde hair. Then, as if to prepare herself for their inevitable confrontation, she squared her shoulders.
Good move, lady. You’re going to need a dose of courage for I plan on giving you a verbal thrashing you’ll never forget.
He extended his hand, the offending dart lying in his palm. “I believe you lost this…in my neck.”
“Crap, yes, I did.” She plucked it from his hand. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hit you.”
He placed his hands on his hips and glared into her blue eyes. “Really? Then who the hell were you aiming for?”
The woman had the audacity to giggle. “I…I wasn’t aiming for anyone. You see, Carrie Jo”–she jerked her thumb toward the table of women behind her–“bumped against my elbow just as I was shooting. She was horsing around, calling me ‘Dart Demon.’”
His gaze ricocheted toward the gaggle of women, all nodding and smiling. Two did a finger wave. He scowled as a dull ache settled behind his eyeballs. When Dart Demon leaned toward him, he got a whiff of her perfume and fought to ignore its beguiling, flowery scent.
“Just between us,” she began, her voice lowered to a conspiratorial whisper, “she’s had too much to drink. Good thing I’m the designated driver tonight.” Her hand rose in a swearing gesture. “Honest. Nothing stronger than diet soda. See, Carrie Jo and her boyfriend are fighting again. They’re just not suited for each other.” Her blonde head shook once. “Ever notice how opposites attract? It’s the strangest thing, isn’t it?”
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