Summer Countdown Blitz - Day 12: 'The Suspect's Daughter' by Donna Hatch #Giveaway
Donna Hatch, author of the best-selling “Rogue Hearts Series,” has won writing awards such as The Golden Quill and the International Digital Award. A hopeless romantic and adventurer at heart, she is a sought-after workshop presenter, and juggles multiple volunteer positions and her six children. A native of Arizona who recently transplanted to the Pacific Northwest, she and her husband of over twenty years are living proof that there really is a happily ever after.
Q&A With the Author:
5. What is your favorite part of writing?
The first few chapters of the rough draft are the most fun. Usually that evil little voice hasn't started talking to me yet--you know, that little voice that whispers it's not good enough? Yeah, that one. Getting a jump on it is great for my ego. The first few chapters of a rough draft is also the point where I have not yet realized that I don't have a very well thought-out plot. Ah, that part is bliss.
6. Do you have any advice for other writers?
1. Don't listen to that evil little voice. 2. Finish the rough draft before you begin revisions. 3. Accept advice and critiques with grace and humility, even if you don't plan to do what they suggest you do.
Connect with the Author here:
“How can I thank you properly?” Jocelyn said.
Mr. Amesbury blinked as if unaccustomed to such an
outpouring of gratitude. “No need. Their safety is enough. I enjoy
administering a bit of justice now and again.”
The corner of his mouth twitched and an unholy gleam
shimmered in the hardness of his eyes. For a fleeting moment, a vision of Grant
Amesbury hunting down the criminal who’d attacked her and exacting some form of
vengeance upon him flashed through her mind. He was like a rogue knight with
his own code of honor and his own methods of justice.
Jocelyn studied Mr. Amesbury’s profile, fascinated
with his cautious probing. He was so solemn, so intense. If only he’d smile.
But no, perhaps it was best he didn’t. He’d probably be so handsome she would
be rendered unable to utter an intelligent word.
When the butler opened the door to announce dinner,
she said quietly, “I hope you don’t mind, Mr. Amesbury, but I’ve seated you
next to me.”
He blinked as if he’d forgotten she stood next to him.
“Why would I mind?”
She huffed out a self-deprecating laugh. “You seemed a
bit ill at ease yesterday when you came for tea.”
His pale gray eyes passed over her. Again came that
intensity. His hard edges softened. “Not because I object to your company, Miss
It was ridiculous, really, the warmth that wrapped
around her like a blanket at his words. She probably grinned like some kind of
silly schoolgirl. His crusty, protective barrier returned in his posture and
his expression. How long would it take her to break open his emotional armor
and find the real Grant Amesbury?