What inspired me to write about a Viking Cowboy in the Old West?
A lightning storm made me think of mighty Thor throwing his Hammer across the sky . . . and that led to an irresistible urge to write about a Viking cowboy and the dime romance novelist who done him wrong. Well, he did put her out of sorts when he wouldn’t give her everything she wanted from a man, but in his defense, he was treating her like a lady. She got her revenge, but now he’s back and ready to mete out justice. He gives her no choice except “to do whatever I want, whenever I want, however I want.” And after all, she does need hands-on research for her novels.
Angel Gone Bad is second in my Gone Bad Series set during the 1880s in Texas and Indian Territory (Oklahoma). I was inspired by the fact that “G.T.T.” was once widely known to mean “Gone to Texas.” Those letters were frequently found scrawled on doors in the South, Midwest, and East, and those folks were simply gone. And many of them, gone bad. That idea led to the title for my Gone Bad Series.
Another inspiration for this series was the paranormal interest that was part of society at that time. Native American mysticism was also still practiced in their cultures. In Lady Gone Bad, hears danger warnings in her head. In Angel Gone Bad, is a card reader. In Bride Gone Bad, Tempest speaks with ghosts.
A GOOD PLOT
By day Angel Morgan reads her thrilling dime novels about the Wild West to the corseted members of the Red River Book club. But when the sun sets on the Texas border her own life proves to be stranger than fiction, especially when a friend’s life depends on her utilizing her many secret talents…
A SURPRISE ENDING
Rune is no stranger to Angel Morgan’s talents—the ones that left him burning for more and the ones that left him wrongfully locked up in jail. Now that he’s no longer behind bars, he’s riding hard for some good old fashioned revenge. But first he needs Angel’s help in hunting down some horse thieves, kidnappers and killers. Tough enough without Angel and Rune’s hands all over each other. It gets worse. But sometimes, bad is good…
Excerpt from Chapter One
The front door was flung open. Boot heels rang out against the wood floor. Spurs jingled an angry tune.
Angel stopped in shock, looking up from her book and over the heads of her audience.
A sea of hats swiveled as the ladies turned to see who had the nerve to interrupt the quiet Sunday afternoon. Gasps of surprise filled the store.
“You may call yourself Angelica, but you’re sure as hell no angel,” the stranger said in a deep voice with the lilting cadence of a Northman.
Heads turned from the intruder back toward the author. Embarrassed titters filled the room as the ladies pressed white handkerchiefs to their lips as if to hold in their excitement.
Angel felt her breath catch in her throat. Her greatest fear had just stepped through the doorway. She’d never expected to see Rune again, not after what she’d done to him. If he was here, he’d been released from jail and hunted her down for one reason and one reason only. Revenge.
She felt her blood run cold. He was a formidable opponent. He knew too much. He hated her too much. She must be smart, think fast, and save the explosive situation. From schoolmarm to dancehall slattern was not her idea of a successful future.
“Right on time.” She pasted on a smile, although her jaw ached with the effort. “Ladies, may I present the Viking.”
Hats whipped back around as the women took a better gander at the tall-as-a-tree man with blue eyes the color of a storm-tossed sky. Mad. Angry. Furious. None was a strong enough word for the blaze in his eyes or his clenched fists.
Angel plunged onward, hoping to avert the next words out of his mouth. “I asked him to join us so you could see an example of how authors draw from real life to write their books.”
The ladies oohed and took the opportunity, maybe a once in a lifetime event, to ogle a surefire, handsome hero.
Belatedly, obviously remembering his manners, the Viking whipped off his white, six-gallon hat, revealing close-cropped sandy hair, and gave a slight bow. Good manners didn’t extend to his scowl, straight brows meeting over hooded eyes. One long-fingered hand dropped near the pearl-handled Colt .45 he wore in a fancy tooled gun-belt that emphasized his narrow hips and muscular thighs clad in form-fitting Levi’s. A blue plaid shirt strained across his broad chest.
Angel sighed. Last time she’d seen him, he’d worn a fringed leather vest, tight leather trousers, and an eagle feather in long hair bleached almost white by the sun. Cowboy gear suited him just as well. Even if he appeared thinner and a little pale, he couldn’t have looked more delectable if he’d tried.
And that was exactly what had gotten her into trouble in the first place.
To enter to win an eBook copy of Angel Gone Bad, just leave a comment for Sabine with your email address.