October is I :::Heart::: Paranormal Romance month at my blog. During these next thirty-one spooky days, besides the usual blog posts, I’m featuring authors who write paranormal romance. Today, I have D.S. Dehel in the interview chair. We’re discussing Nine for a Kiss, a Maizemerized Tale. Be sure to check out the excerpt.
1. What drew you to writing paranormal romance?
DS: My whole life I read High Fantasy and early paranormal books. The story I wanted to tell demanded the paranormal twist. Besides, isn’t a Halloween story better if it’s PNR?
2. What do you like most about writing paranormal romance?
DS: The freedom to world build. The rules are what I make them to be.
3. What do you like least about writing paranormal romance?
DS: When I create rules for the world I’ve built that back me into a corner. It’s happened more than once.
4. Why did you write the book you are featuring?
DS: Three other author friends and I were discussing Halloween stories, and as we bounced ideas back and forth, we realized we all liked the central idea of a corn maze. So we each wrote stories that began with the idea of a corn maze and a creepy owner and went from there.
5. Why do you think readers should invest their time in reading paranormal romance?
DS: It’s a lovely escape during a very stressful time in our world right now. It’s similar to the rise in Marvel/DC superhero movies–escape, but paranormal romance is much better.
Just one perfect day.
Blurb: Nothing has gone right in Sadie Lyons’s life since the accident, but she’s trying her best to get back to normal. She’s just not sure if the trip to the old apple orchard was the best decision, and the creepy corn maze run by the even creepier owner confirms her fears. Inside, the maze is even worse, and she’s soon lost in a never-ending labyrinth that twists and turns but goes nowhere.
When a raven joins her as a guide, she feels better, but like the maze, the raven is not what he seems, and the news he brings her changes everything.
Love and loss intertwine in this tale of the endings and beginnings we all face.
This passage was short compared to the others she’d traversed so far, maybe seventy-five feet long, terminating in a dead end. The dark shape leaned against the wall of the maze, clinging onto a stalk with one hand. The other clutched to his side.
“Hello.” The voice was raspy and undeniably masculine.
“Are you all right?” She took two steps.
“Um.” Then he collapsed, falling to his knees, palms against the ground.
“Oh god.” She dashed forward, ignoring the little voice that insisted it could be a trap. “Are you hurt?”
He shook his head as if clearing it. His longish hair covered his face. “No. Not hurt.” He seemed to be struggling to find the words.
Indecision rocked her. Usually, she wasn’t so suspicious, but everything had changed that night. But someone helped me.
Lots of someones. I need to return the favor.
She knelt beside him, dipping her head to see the face hidden by the dark hair. Sharp nose, pale skin, and dark
lashes fringed his closed eyes. “Can I help?”
“Help how?” His voice rasped, making her wince.
Water. “Here.” She dug the bottle out of her pocket and held it out. “I don’t have germs, well, not so many.” She’d been on antibiotics forever. “Sorry it’s warm.”
For a moment, she thought he’d reject her offering because he looked from her hand to her face and back again. Then he sat back on his heels and brushed off his hands before taking the proffered bottle. “Thank you.”
He ran a hand through his hair, drawing it back into a low ponytail, then dropping it. The move revealed sharp cheekbones and skin strangely free of stubble for someone with such dark hair. No trace lined his jaw. He twisted off the cap, raised the bottle to red lips, and took a deep drink.
Now that’s a neck. She watched his Adam’s apple move as he finished her water. I need to stop staring. So, she stood up and brushed the fine dirt off her hands.
As he climbed to his feet, she took in his outfit consisting of dark, ripped jeans, a black short-sleeved shirt, topped by a black leather vest, and fingerless gloves, also black. Heavy black boots completed the ensemble, making him look like a rocker from the 1980s.
“Thank you,” he repeated, then he looked at the bottle in his hand. “I seem to have finished your water.” Regret flashed in his eyes. “I am very sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it.” She waved him off. “You obviously needed it. Your voice sounds better.”
“Ah.” He cleared his throat. “I am not used to using it much.”
“You’ve been lost for eons in this maze?” She’d meant it as a tease, but the look on his face crushed the humor.
“Eons?” he scoffed, then his smile lit up the day. “No, not quite so long.”
D.S. Dehel is a lover of words, wine, and the Oxford comma. When she’s not immersed in a book, she is a mom to her four kids and her spoiled feline Mr. Darcy or two pampered pooches: Piper and Jaime. Having “retired” she spends her days dreaming up new plot lines and word smiting for hours on end. She adores literary allusions, hot sex scenes, and British men. Her husband is still convinced she writes children’s books. Please don’t enlighten him.