#WriteTip - Develop Secondary Characters by @HaleyWhitehall (spotlighting her #historical #interracial #romance Midnight Caller)

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It's been a while since Haley Whitehall paid a visit (I kid.... a couple of months, at the most). She and I met through an author loop at the same small press many moons ago (approximately 24), and since then some of our titles have hit the rights-reversion mark. While I'm still hovering on the indie sidelines trying to decide if I want to tackle re-editing and re-releasing my own titles, Haley has valiantly taken the plunge. Here's a writing tip from Ms. Whitehall, along with a closer look at Midnight Caller.

Develop Secondary Characters

by Haley Whitehall

I’d like to thank Tara for having me on her blog today and help celebrate my re-release of Midnight Caller. My write tip: develop your secondary characters. Many times the secondary characters are overlooked and if they are developed at all are often cliché characters.

Many writers focus all their attention on the main characters. If it is a romance, they spend all their time developing the hero and heroine and of course the bumpy road that leads to them falling in love. However, in real life, people do not live in a bubble. We do not have tunnel vision and only think about, see, and talk to our significant other.

Secondary characters serve many important functions in a story. They can be a sympathetic ear for the main characters and offer advice. With their help the main characters might be able to figure things out and make life decisions. They can help the main characters out when they are in a fix, or they can cause problems for the main characters either intentionally or unintentionally.  There can be many secondary characters in a story. I love the small town romances where you get to know the whole town: the nosy neighbor, grumpy old man, a few rambunctious children etc. Secondary characters can bring the setting to life, and make it feel more real to the reader. And you know what the best part is? Sometimes secondary characters beg to have a story of their own!

I recently re-edited, lengthened, and re-released Midnight Caller (Moonlight Romance, Book 1). After writing three books in the Moonlight Romance series it occurred to me that an important secondary character in Midnight Caller needed a story of her own. Mrs. Dimshire is a widowed matron in Louisville, and she encourages Emma to take a black lover. I got to thinking what is her story? So when I lengthened Midnight Caller for the re-release I went back and added a few more details about Mrs. Dimshire’s life. If secondary characters are more developed, it makes them more real as well as making it easier to write their stories later.

Secondary characters need to be more than names. We need to take time to describe them and develop them. In my opinion, the more the secondary characters are brought to life the more the story will ring true. Just be careful and don’t let them take over the story!

Midnight Caller

Moonlight Romance, 1

by Haley Whitehall

Life without love is painful, but in the Reconstruction Era South forbidden fruit can be deadly. A fiery romance between a widow and an African American man has more consequences than either of them imagined.

Slavery has ended, but racial prejudice remains in Kentucky. Emma Bennett guards a secret that could destroy her life. Until now she never considered the price of her security. Becoming a well-respected member in Louisville had seemed a dream come true, but at what cost?

Her husband’s death from a carriage accident releases Emma from her loveless, controlling marriage. Now she has a chance to find happiness and raise a family. But before she begins courting again she wants to experience her freedom. At the advice of the leading socialite in town, she takes a black lover to fulfill her sexual needs. His raw masculine power awakens feelings she didn’t know existed. After the first touch, she craves more.

Frederick works as a roustabout by day and moonlights as a prostitute. He knows better than to fall in love with his white client, but Emma enchants him the first time he calls on her. To keep them both safe, he works hard to put up barriers. Unfortunately, he can’t protect Emma from the slimy Mr. Hawthorne, who wants her as his bride. Frederick vows to keep her safe even if his forbidden love costs him his life.

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About Haley Whitehall

Haley Whitehall lives in Washington State where she enjoys all four seasons and the surrounding wildlife. She writes historical romance set in the 19th century U.S. When she is not researching or writing, she plays with her cats, watches the Western and History Channels, and goes antiquing. She is hoping to build a time machine so she can go in search of her prince charming. A good book, a cup of coffee, and a view of the mountains make her happy.

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Arranged Marriage...What?! - $25 #Giveaway and #99cents sale from @DecadentPub + Valerie Mann (@mannvalerie)

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Today's post is a shout out for the lovely Valerie Mann. She's got a $0.99 sale going on for her 1Night Stand romance First Comes Marriage, and she's sweetening the deal even further with a $25 Giveaway. Don't forget to scroll down until you hit the Rafflecopter. I'll let Val take over from here.

First Comes Marriage

by Valerie Mann

Who agrees to an arranged marriage in the 21st century? Beth Malone can’t believe a date request with the 1Night Stand service morphed into an arranged marriage offer. But after a heartbreaking divorce and no knight in shining armor coming to sweep her off her feet, her desire to find that knight and have a family is looking more like a dream than a reality.

After filling out a 1Night Stand questionnaire worthy of the CIA, Christian Ramos is stunned when Madame Eve offers to arrange more than a date for one night: she suggests a wife! What the hell? And after his best friend Jackson Castillo stops laughing, he advises him to consider the offer. Between the fortieth birthday looming on the horizon and his Latino upbringing, Chris is forced to take a hard look at his life. Reality check—time is running out for what he wants—a family and a woman to share his life.

$25 Giveaway 

First comes love, then comes marriage isn’t part of their matrimonial situation, but neither Beth nor Christian anticipated the immediate attraction and contentment that comes with saying, “I do.”

I hope you love Chris and Beth as much as I do! Madame Eve definitely knew what she was doing bringing these two lovebirds together!

You could win $25 USD in Amazon funny money to spend on anything you want (heaven knows they get lots of MY money pretty regularly), plus I’m giving away a 3-book e-book bundle—you choose the great reads!—from Decadent Publishing, and a Decadent audiobook of your choice from Audible.com!

Only one thing is mandatory: You MUST purchase First Comes Marriage from Amazon before midnight tonight. It’s only 99 cents, but for the chance to win awesome prezzies...so worth it!  Email me the receipt—a screenshot of the Amazon receipt or confirmation email is fine—BAM! You’re in the running for the big win!

If you read First Comes Marriage and leave a review, please let me know! I plan to give away ANOTHER bag of prizes to one reviewer at the end of August.

ABOUT VALERIE MANN

Valerie is the co-owner of a Decadent Publishing, as well as Wizards in Publishing, a company that provides editing and formatting services for authors and publishers. Where to find her:

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#NewRelease and #Giveaway - Claimed by the Bad Boy by London Saint James (@LSJRomance), a @DecadentPub #BDSM #Romance

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I'm giving a shout out to my Decadent Publishing pub-buddy London Saint James.  The second installment in her Bad Boy Fever series came out today, and this (warning needed, scorching hot, adults-only, kinky-filled) excerpt should whet the appetite of many a BDSM romance fan. She's also running a giveaway for a $10 gift card, so don't forget to scroll all the way down to take advantage of the Rafflecopter. 

Claimed by the Bad Boy

BAD BOY FEVER, BOOK 2

by  London Saint James

Something always brings him back to her...

Ryker Cage is a rough guy, with very particular tastes when it comes to sex. Rough, hard, and dirty is the extent of his repertoire. Never soft. He doesn’t have a clue about connecting with his sensitive side in the bedroom, or that find-your-inner-femininity bullshit. He fears nothing, except—his feelings for the sweet and innocent Molly Monroe.

The bad boy who lived next door claimed Molly’s heart long ago. Crazy, or not, she loves him. Always has. No matter what he does to push her away, nor how far he runs, Ryker is the one man she’ll never stop loving.

When Ryker finally finds his way back home, will he find the courage to claim what's always been his? Or, will he be destined for heartache when someone threatens to take everything away?

Excerpt (For Mature Audiences Only.... You have been warned.)

“Fuck,” Ryker said in a gruff grumble, staring down at the smoking-hot, red-headed bartender on her knees, polishing his dick with her tongue stud—her shorts unzipped, her right hand tucked inside—rubbing herself. Let’s just say, when he ordered a deep throat, this wasn’t what he had in mind.

“You’re-so-big,” she managed between long licks. “Just look at you.”

He was a big guy, so hearing what she thought he wanted, wasn’t a turn on. What was? The way Red nibbled down his length and fondled his balls.

He sucked a breath through his teeth. The little vixen teabagged him.

“Sweet.” His head went back when she trailed her tongue up his sack, between his testicles, continued up his shaft, swirled the metal piercing of hers across the winking slit of his cock before wrapping those lips around the broad head—sucking him hard. “There you go.”

“Do you like that?” she asked.

“Definitely.”

The bar-babe picked up the pace, using her left hand to grip the base of him, alternating between jacking and sucking.

“Keep it up, and I’ll come, baby,” he said.

Ryker had no idea what she said her name was. Why? Easy. He’d been too busy eyeing her round ass jiggle in those skin-tight daisy dukes when he escorted her to the back door of The Cherry Bomb for a cigarette, although he didn’t smoke. And when she rubbed up against him—supple breasts to muscled chest—whispering things like, “Suck,” and “You,” and “Down the back of my throat” into his ear, they’d taken a quick detour.

He wasn’t what one would consider sensitive when it came to the opposite sex. Rough, hard, and dirty was the extent of his repertoire. Never soft. He supposed his tastes were very particular. And, he didn’t have a clue about connecting with his softer side, or that find-your-inner-femininity bullshit his free-spirited aunt Dali spouted to him and his brother every chance she got.

The bombshell scraped her teeth up his shaft and he groaned low in his throat, muscles flexing, fingers splaying wide on the two, steel-sidewalls of the stall—calves hitting the front of the toilet.

“Mmm….” The little hum she did sent a satisfying vibration down the length of him.

The shine from the overhead light bounced off the top of her head, setting a sunset blaze as she bobbed up and down on his cock. She was eager. Focused. Determined to have him bust a nut. He growled at the sight. She reminded him of a porn star by the sounds she made. And the suctioned pull of her mouth on him with the twist at the tip, along with the hand-tug at the root—freaking brilliant. But when she changed things up and twirled her tongue around the under-edge of his flared head, good God, the combination was shiver inducing. Having been the happy recipient of a lot of differing techniques in his almost thirty-two years, Ryker figured she hadn’t learned to do that without plenty of practice.

Shit. She did the combo thing again. Red had him there. Ready.

“I’m going to come,” he warned.

She popped her plump lips from his throbbing dick. “Mm, yes,” she uttered in a breathy voice. A second later, he exploded, warm jizz covering her manicured fingers and silky-smooth palm, while she shook—her other hand still shoved down the front of her shorts—climaxing.

Ryker closed his eyes for a moment reveling in the extraordinary haze of nothingness. No thoughts. No guilt. Nothing but the slowing of his breaths until they drifted into quietness.

“Good?” she asked, disrupting the silence.

His eyelids lifted and he glanced down into her face. “Great, baby.”

She took on an eye-twinkling, pleased expression, then Red slipped her fingers free, reached for the toilet paper, and wiped her cum-covered appendages.

“I’m off in a couple of hours.” She smiled up at him—a dimple creasing the right side of her cheek.

Ignoring the comment, Ryker righted himself and tucked his softening cock back into his pants in an efficient manner. Here was the part he detested the most. He hadn’t thought Red would be a clinger. He figured she’d be well versed in the rules of a random hook-up. But he also understood what her last statement was leading to. She wanted more, and he didn’t.

When Red stood up, his gaze shifted to her. She reached around him and tossed the TP in the toilet, zipped up, turned, unlocked the slider on the stall door, and stepped out. They were the only two in the restroom. He was glad they didn’t have an audience awaiting their exit.

“Want to hang around for a while?” she asked. “We can go back to my place when I clock out.”

They both cleaned up at the sinks. No need to wait. He wouldn’t be going to her place.

“Can’t.” He added soap from the dispenser to his palm. “Early morning.”

“Hmm,” she mumbled while washing her hands.

Jesus. He hoped she wasn’t going to make a fuss. He hated those pouty, I-can’t-believe-I-blew-you, you bastard, scenes. But when her green-eyed gaze met his sea-blue one in the mirror, she appeared fine. No frown. No pursed lips. No tears threatening to overflow. She didn’t look as if she were going to go all fatal attraction on his ass.

She asked, “Do you want my digits?”

Ryker rinsed and dried his hands. He might be an epic asshole at times, nonetheless taking her number, and acting as though he would call, wasn’t something he’d do.

“I think we both know I won’t be calling.” Being as upfront as he could be, he strived not to sound too douchebaggery.

She shrugged. “I thought I’d at least give it a shot.” Red sauntered to the restroom door. Glancing over her shoulder at him she said, “Thanks for taking a ciggy break with me.”

“Sure thing, although I should be the one thanking you.” She grinned. “So, thank you.” No reason not to be polite. After all, Red did all the work, and even got herself off in the doing. He’d just been along for the joy ride.

“I guess I’ll see you around the club, Ryker.”

“Yeah.”

He stared after her. Something about the way she said “I’ll see you around” in a soft, almost remorseful tone, reminded him of—

“Don’t,” he reprimanded and scrubbed his palm down the back of his neck.

Fan-fucking-tastic. He was talking to himself now.

He pulled his cell from the top pocket of his shirt, gripping too hard.

Letting up before he broke his phone, he brushed his thumb across the black screen, bringing it to life, and gritted his teeth. Ryker detested this. He despised a lot of things when it came to his desires he supposed, and this ache for something he couldn’t have kept him traveling so much over the past year, taking on software security jobs, which took him away from home. Far from….

Damn.

So much for the bliss of oblivion, which was, let’s face it, always fleeting. Chasing that short-lived minute was part of the reason for his extracurricular activities. To stop thinking. Forget. Lose himself. And here he was, minutes after his latest quickie, contemplating a conversation better left alone. Nothing good would ever come from what he was considering.

Ryker glanced down at the phone—finger poised.

“Screw it.”

He typed in his text. Paused. Thumb hovering for a long moment, reading those four words over and over. And, then, unable to do anything else, he pressed—send.

About London Saint James

London Saint James has lived in many places, but never felt “at home” until she met the real-life man of her dreams and settled down in the beautiful Smoky Mountains of Tennessee. London lives with her husband and their fat cat who thinks he owns them.

As an award-winning, bestselling, multi-published author, London is living her childhood dream. She knew all the scribbling she did, that big imagination of hers, and all those clamoring characters running around in her head would pay off someday.

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