Please welcome
Vonnie Davis
Krista, thanks for having me on A Passion
for Romance today. I first fell in love with the romance genre back in the
sixties when gothic romances were all the rage, devouring everything written by
Phyllis Whitney, Victoria Holt and Mary Stewart. While I loved all the elements
of those stories, I was often annoyed with the weepy, needy heroines.
I much prefer spunky heroines—women who are
stronger than they ever thought possible. Women who turn adversities into
advantages. Women like I see around me every day.
For over fifty years I’ve read and studied
romance. Noted the changes in the genre and the way authors tackle these
transformations. Back in the sixties and the seventies, when the hero
threatened to spank the heroine, we thought it degrading. Now it’s kinky.
Witness the millions who have read Fifty Shades.
Years ago, readers were offered no heat
ratings. Sex was never mentioned. A kiss was described as a “crush of lips” and
typically saved for the final scene. In my debut book, Storm’s Interlude, the first kiss took place in the opening
scene—and for the storyline, it worked.
Now we know romances can run the gamut from
sweet to erotic. There are literally stories for every taste. I read them all
because, for me, it’s the yin and yang, the push and pull, the attraction and
detraction of the couple that appeal to me. And if the author’s able to put
some humor into the mix, I am especially happy because I feel romance should be
fun, too.
A few days ago, my historical romance, A MAN
FOR ANNALEE, released from Still Moments Publishing. Set in a fictional town in
Wyoming in 1871, this “sweet” novella is full of lovable, quirky characters. It
is also the story of a woman who has lost everything in the Great Fire of
Chicago, except her spirit. And it is her spunky, often wacky spirit that
serves her well.
Annalee has come to a small town where
there are very few single women, and the men are all determined to win
Annalee’s favor. Boone Hartwell, the town’s marshal, is determined to win her
hand…but so are a few others.
“Ideas,
is it?” Her hands fisted on her hips. “Just what
kind of ideas are you speaking of? ‘Cause I’ll have you know I’m a graduate
of Miss Feather’s Finishing School for Refined Ladies of Culture and Proper
Decorum.”
Levi squirmed and studied the tops of his
boots. “Honest, Miss Annalee, I meant no disrespect. I meant it as a
compliment.”
They both turned at the sound of more
horses coming up the dirt lane. “Now, who?” Annalee turned on her heel and
headed for the steps. Outside another buckboard rolled to a stop. “Who are
you?”
A dark-haired young man jumped down and
gave a lecherous grin. “No, darlin’, who are you?”
How Boone got to her side so quickly, Annalee
didn’t know, but his normally jovial voice was steely serious. “You’d do well
to show the lady some respect, Clarence Stoner.”
Clarence’s hands clenched and unclenched
a few times. “Meant no harm.”
“I know you’re used to dealing with the
soiled doves at the Red Garter, but Annalee here is a lady.” A muscle in Boone’s
cheek twitched, his displeasure obvious.
Clarence smiled when he stepped forward.
“Annalee, is it?”
“Yes. Annalee Gallagher.”
“Well, I owe you an apology, misspeaking
like I did. But you is a purty lady, and I gots me a powerful weakness fer purty
ladies.” He shot Boone a glance when he heard him growl. “My father and I run Stoner
and Son’s Mercantile. I’m here to deliver things old man Tanner ordered when he
heard you was a comin’. And if anything don’t meet with your approval, you just
let ole Clarence know. I do aim to please.”
His smarmy smile made her skin crawl.
“How did you know I’d be here today? How did Levi know?” She turned to Boone.
“Word spreads, Annalee. I mentioned it
when I rented the buggy to bring you and Cora here today.”
“I see.” She walked to the buckboard and
peeked under the protective canvas at a green velvet settee and matching chair.
“I don’t believe it!” She reached out to touch the plush upholstery. Two pretty
kerosene lamps with green bases also caught her eye. A gasp escaped her lips.
“A tallcase clock. What fine-looking wood! I’ve never seen anything so
beautiful!” This was better than Christmas morning. She ran to the rear of the
buckboard, throwing back the canvas. “Look! A brass tub for bathing!”
Clarence sauntered over next to her. “Yeah,
I figure you oughta look real…”
Before he could finish, Boone had him by the scruff of the neck.
“Either you tame that tongue of yours, or
I’ll take out your teeth.” He shook Clarence. “I warned you about talking to
her like that.”
Clarence broke free of Boone’s grasp.
“What’s wrong with you? You’re as touchy as a thumb what’s been mashed by a
hammer.” He narrowed his eyes at Boone. “You layin’ claim to her yourself?”
The muscle twitched in Boone’s cheek
again. His steely gaze stayed glued to Clarence, and his voice was low when he
spoke. “Annalee, go inside.”
If this man thought she was going to miss
one word of this conversation, he
really was a clabber-headed fool. “No.”
He gave her a quick glance. “Do what I
say, now.”
She folded her arms at her chest. “I
listen to no man. I’ve been my own
boss for years now.”
When Clarence guffawed, Boone scowled at
him. “I’m telling you for your own good, Annalee, go inside.”
Levi stepped into the conversation. “The
lady said she listens to no man. I figure that means you, too, Boonie. You and
me is good friends and all, but a lady’s vishes come first.”
Three Fingers hurried around Levi to
stand in front of Boone. “Yeah, let my
woman be.” His lips peeled back in a snarl, revealing two blackened teeth.
Boone’s eyes nearly bugged out when he
yelled, “Your woman?”
“That’s right. You a-heard me and
what’cha gonna do about it?” He raised his fists.
To her surprise, Three Fingers threw a
punch. Suddenly, all four men started fighting. They hit, kicked, elbowed,
grunted, groaned, cussed and rolled around in the dirt. A flurry of eight arms
and legs stirred a dust storm. All the while, Nugget, circled the fracas,
barking and growling.
A brawl! And it was over her. “Stop! Stop
it, I say!” When her shouted pleas went unheeded, she stormed up the steps.
Cora stood on the porch wringing her
hands. “Oh dear, oh dear! Whatever shall we do?”
Annalee stormed by Cora, madder than a
hornet in a Mason jar. “I’ll show you what I’m gonna do.” She marched into the
kitchen and Cora followed. Reaching for a large pot hanging from a peg, she
went to the pump. “Get that other pot over there. We’ll fill them both.”
“Then what?”
“Then I’m going to show them who’s boss
on this piece of land.”
Both women carried their heavy
water-filled pots to the brawling gang of hooligans. “When I count to three,
toss your water on ‘em. And try to get as much on Three Fingers as you can. He smells
like he hasn’t bathed since Lincoln was President.”
“Oh dear, what will Franklin say when he
hears about this?”
“You’ll just have to handle him like you always
do. Ready? One…two…three.” Both ladies threw the cold water onto the men.
Screams and curses punctured the air. The
men stood, staggered and sputtered. Boone shook the water from his hair.
“Wha…?”
“Not one word, Boone. Do you hear me? You
and the rest of these lackwits need to get off my property.”
She tossed her pot into the dirt. “Cora,
I’m ready to go, if you are.”
Annalee marched to the buggy, crawled
into it, and leaned over to pull the older woman onto the seat next to her. She
picked up the reigns and slapped them against the horses’ backs. Before the
team of horses had gone twenty feet, she pulled them to a halt, turned, and
sticking two fingers in her mouth, whistled for Nugget. Boone’s dog immediately
ran and jumped onto the back seat. With a toss of her head, she drove away
leaving four wet, hardheaded men in her dust.
Buy Links: Still Moments Publishing Amazon
Follow
me on twitter @VonnieWrites
Thanks for having me as a guest today. I'd love to hear from your readers what types of heroines they enjoy reading about.
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