I'm happy to have fellow Michigander Gina Conkle here today. Even though she wasn't born here, we've adopted her. We met through the Mid-Michigan RWA chapter.
Welcome, Gina. Tell us about yourself.
Hi! Thanks for hosting me, Diane.
I’m Gina Conkle, writer of Viking and Georgian romance. I’m also wife to Brian
and mom to Clay (in college) and Chad (in high school). I grew up in southern
California, but we made a big move to Michigan in 2014. We love it here! When
I’m not writing, I do a little flower gardening and when I have time for it, I
like to explore cooking foods from around the world and from different eras.
When did you first realize you
wanted to be a writer?
There was a crystal-clear moment
in 5th grade. I was sitting at my desk at school. I remember the
clothes I was wearing and thinking about what I’d read (Gone With the Wind) and
a story I’d written for a creative writing assignment (The Girl Who Stopped
World War III).
What does your family think of
your writing?
They love it. My husband is fully
supportive of my writing and my sons think it’s pretty cool that mom writes
books. They also think cool how I know minutiae about Vikings and Viking
history. My son Chad will tease me with, “Hey, Mom, didn’t Agnar Legbone invent
that?” when we talk history.
I also read non-Mom-ish things. I
get several archaeology newsletters, and I get books and periodicals from
around the world about history of warfare, ancient history, and all things
medieval. When we first moved to Michigan, my Medieval Warfare magazine was
forwarded to my husband’s company, and the latest issue was on his desk. An
employee read an article title aloud, “The Mace: Simple but Effective.” The
employee thought the magazine was for a man!
Or he could've thought the mace was your husband's style of management. 😊
What do you enjoy most about
writing?
I love getting lost in the story
worlds. The other surprise comes from the revelations about life. I’m hungry to
keep learning…as much about knowledge and the world around us as learning
things that make me a wiser woman.
If you could give the younger
version of yourself advice what would it be?
Be fearless.
Excellent advice. How do you balance a life outside
of writing with deadlines and writing muses?
Ha! I don’t! My family knows to
leave me alone when I’m locked away. I’m not very good at balance. I tend to be
all or nothing. In 2006, I decided to set aside my writing and focus on my
boys. I’d started writing late 2002/early 2003. Any writing was done after my
boys had gone to bed. But, I noticed writing and RWA activities starting to
take over my life. It wasn’t until early 2012 that I felt like “Okay, let’s
focus on writing.” My husband points out my tendency to throw myself into
projects…sometimes at the exclusion of everything else.
I'm the same way, Gina. All or nothing. What are some jobs you've done that
would end up in a book?
I worked in biotech, specifically
in Life Sciences. My biotech experience came in handy when I wrote Meet the
Earl at Midnight. The hero, Lord Edward, was a man of science studying the
healing properties of plants.
Where do you get your information
or ideas for your books?
I read a lot of non-fiction
history books. What might seem dry to others is heaven to me (especially female
historians writing about Viking women and Viking history). Worlds open up to me
and a story plays out like a mind movie.
That is so cool, Gina. Tell us about your latest
release.
My latest release, Meet a Rogue
at Midnight (a novella) is the 4th installment in the Midnight
Meetings series. It stays squarely in Georgian romance, no crossing over into
other genres.
This story is a childhood
friends-to-lovers romance, which was a first for me to write. The hero, Jonas,
first appears in Meet the Earl at Midnight as man of business to Lord Edward. I
didn’t originally have a story for him, but my then editor, Leah Hultenschmidt,
asked for Jonas to be the hero in book 2 in the series. My agent pushed for
book 2 in the Midnight Meetings series to be Cyrus and Claire’s story (The Lady
Meets Her Match). Jonas got shuffled to the backburner until this year.
Fans have told me they like that
Jonas is a commoner. He’s the strong silent type, and I’ve also had lots of
excited, fan feedback on his first kiss in the book!
Tell us more about Meet a Rogue at Midnight. I love the cover.
A Saved Scoundrel…
Jonas Bacon Braithwaite wants to make peace with
his grandfather before departing England. Once Nottinghamshire’s favorite
trouble-maker, he’s since become an upstanding man of honor. But, the lushly
curved thief hiding in his bedchamber makes him think twice about one last
conquest.
A
Stubborn Siren…
Livvy Halsey bristles at life’s rules. Always
has. Sneaking into the Braithwaite house to reclaim a treasured family heirloom
is one way she upends the conventional life that awaits her. Duty demands she
marry. But what harm is there in having a little fun with her childhood friend
before the Twelfth Night ends?
And
Twilight Temptation…
Stolen kisses fan hot flames. Surprising passion
intertwines with friendship…but will it be enough to last forever?
Excerpt:
Jonas
stood bare-arse naked before a crackling fire, bathwater dripping down his
chest. There was no time for a proper dry off. The drapes were stirring in his
bed chamber though the window was closed. He snatched velvet breeches off the
chair and slipped them on casual as you please—minus his smalls. All his
clothes sat in a battered sea chest next to a pair of black boots peeking out
beneath blue drapes.
Boots
that weren’t his.
With
a cautious hand, he lifted his heavy dragoon pistol off the mantel and kept an eye
on the scrubby, modest-sized side boots. A lad? Who would want to ambush him
here? His coming home to Plumtree should be of no consequence…not after ten
years gone.
The
village and his grandfather’s stone house hadn’t changed much. Humble, quaint,
and cramped. He didn’t belong here. Not anymore. The sooner he took care of
matters with his grandfather, the Captain, the sooner he’d be on his way.
But,
his first order of business was dispatching the unskilled housebreaker.
“I
know you’re hiding behind the curtains,” Jonas said, one hand buttoning his
placket. “Show yourself.”
The
boots didn’t move. Howls of laughter drifted up from downstairs. Christmas Eve
celebrations must be going well in the parlor. The house burst with fresh pine
boughs and spiked cider, the green and spicy scents floating everywhere.
“Come
now. This is not a night for ill will.”
Housebreaking
was a serious crime with grisly consequences. The lad needed some sense knocked
into his foolish skull. Jonas padded across the room, his dragoon pistol in an
easy hold at his side. Raucous guffaws exploded through the floorboards. Mr.
Goodspeak, fine soul that he was, brayed the loudest. Fiddle music played a
Yuletide carol in double time while the salty old sailors stomped a bad rhythm.
The Captain must’ve shared his best whiskey, the kind that warmed a man as good
as a woman.
Weary
from a hard day’s ride, he could use a dram. And a woman.
“I’ll
count to three,” he said, padding barefoot across the room. “One…two…”
The
drape bulged with the business end of a pistol. Jonas froze. Air nipped him.
His pulse beat in his ears as his fingers curled tighter around his pistol. At
the click of a cocked weapon, instinct took over.
“…thr—”
Jonas dropped low and rammed his shoulder into the lad’s mid-section.
“Umph!” The
housebreaker grunted and a shiny piece clattered across the floor. A
blunderbuss.
Jonas
kicked the weapon backward. Fists pummeled his back as white hot pain shot up
from his toes. A black boot mashed his foot.
“Enough,”
he growled, hoisting the lad over his shoulder.
His
foot throbbing, Jonas spun away from the window. Cloth ripped overhead. The
drapes and rod crashed down on their heads. Whoops and hollers rang through the
house. The Captain and his cronies had to be deep in their cups not to hear
this scuffle. Jonas knocked the wool off his face as the housebreaker kicked and…squealed. He squinted at the bottom
wiggling on his shoulder, and the split second cost him. A knee jabbed his
ribs.
“Oomph!” His gun slipped, and the brass buttcap
hammered his already aching toes. Air hissing through clenched teeth, Jonas
hop-stepped to the bed. “Stop!” he bellowed and landed all his weight on the lad.
The
bed frame quaked from the assault. The housebreaker sunk into the down
mattress, fighting hard. Jonas drove his head into the criminal’s chest, and
two mounds pressed his face. Soft, round, and jiggling. A slow smile formed
against the wool. He was nose deep between sizeable breasts—a fine pair as
breasts go swathed in old drapes.
“Well,
bugger me.”
The
housebreaker wheezed. “I’d…rather…you get off me!”
Eyes
wide, Jonas rolled sideways and clamped his thigh across her thrashing legs.
The woman’s mouth gaped behind wool like a caught fish. She flopped like one
too. A feminine hip squirmed at the juncture of his thighs. Fingers clawed the
curtain. His midnight visitor tussled fiercely with the drape, the bed ropes
creaking madly beneath her.
“Shhh. Let me uncover you,” he said,
staying her busy hands.
“So
you can shoot me?”
“No.
So you can breathe easy.” He paused, his grip on her wrists full of authority.
“We can stay like this all night, or you can trust me. It’s your choice.”
Yellow
firelight danced across waves of mussed bed sheets. Land-locked sailors sang
off-key below stairs. Music pitched fast and high from the parlor, but the
storm on his mattress calmed. Tautness in the wrists he held eased a fraction.
The housebreaker lay stiffly against him, smelling oddly of…vinegar.
She
panted against the drape. “You call those choices?”
“Best
I can do for a woman who pointed a pistol at me.”
Jonas’s
blood pumped with satisfaction. His lush, midnight visitor was at his mercy.
Bit by bit, her breathing slowed behind blue wool. She grumbled, but her body
went lax against him. He grinned, liking her pliant, surrendered. The skirmish
was over.
“Well?”
she said, her hip shifting against his ballocks. “Aren’t you going to get this
off me?”
Copper-hued
hair shined through a tear in the cloth. The woman in his bed was a gift
trussed in cloth, excitement in his otherwise dull Christmas Eve homecoming. It
was time he unwrapped his present. Jonas stuck a finger in the hole and yanked.
Threads snapped, showing bold brown eyes staring at him through tangled hair.
With the hole wider, he ripped the drape with both hands all the way to the
soles of her black boots.
A
pretty mouth opened wide and sucked fresh air. “Thank you.”
His
comely housebreaker lay dressed in homespun breeches and a plain shirt open at
the neck. A gentleman’s faded bottle green coat flopped wide as she brushed
hair off her face. Exquisite breasts free of a corset, shift, and waistcoat
ruined the mannish disguise. Cambric stretched across dainty nipples at the
center of curves flattened as nature would have it when a woman was on her
back. The siren’s chest rose and fell with alluring rhythm, the sight striking
him speechless.
“Did
you get your fill?” She snapped her coat shut and laughed. “Welcome home, Jonas
Bacon Braithwaite.”
That was a great first meeting, Gina. One last question before you go. Where can readers find you?
People can find me at these places:
