Friday, August 21, 2020

Pitbull with Lipstick by Darcy Carson #FearlessFriday #historicalromance


You're going to love my fearless guest's story today. Grab a cup and relax and be ready to chuckle. Take it away, Pitbull, er Darcy.

My friends call me the Pitbull with Lipstick. I’m not afraid of sharing my opinion with ANYONE. Telling what you think isn’t sharing what you are feeling. That’s two different things in my book. I’ve done a lot of dumb things in my life. One thing my friends laugh about the most is the time we took a night-owl fight to NYC for a conference. Since I have a hard time falling asleep in strange places, I asked my doctor for sleeping pills. Let’s just say the first one didn’t work to my satisfaction, so I took another one. By the time we landed, I was rummy and off in la-la land. I jumped on the luggage cart and asked the bell hop to take me to the registration desk. I was with a group of four other ladies, one was always saying, ‘Someone keep an eye on Darcy. She keeps wandering away.’. I really don’t remember much of that trip.

One incident I remember from my childhood was when I was twelve. I went horseback riding for the first time in my life. Wasn’t afraid. I picked this pretty palomino. A girl’s got to have a pretty-looking horse. Right? Well, at a specific spot, the guide would let experienced riders race their horses. With a squeal of delight, I kicked my horse to go, too. The squeal scared the guide. I was laughing. She thought I was screaming, but she couldn’t catch me because my horse was not only pretty, but the fastest horse in the stable. I loved it. Went back the following week. My palomino was already out. Boo-hoo. They gave me a semi-draft horse. Imagine your legs sticking straight out. That was me. Then my supposedly gentle giant got into a fight with another horse. We were losing, so I stood in the stirrups and used my reins to hit the other horse. Didn’t help much. My mount and I ended up in the river. But it was exciting. I wonder if that means I’m a little bit of an adrenaline rush junkie. Maybe? I’m not telling.

I’ve drag raced. I had a stock Mustang and my sister’s boyfriend had a Corvette. He wanted to show me up with his fancy, sports car. Big mistake. We found a nice straight street, late at night and hit it. My little Mustang beat the pants off him because he blew his engine. Poor did he want my car after that. A few years later, we moved away from Washington State, and were selling my car. He wasn’t letting it go and bought it. The next week he lent it to another friend and the guy rolled and totaled the car. Too bad, so sad. Told him, she was fast.

None of my experiences went into To Steal an Irish Heart (it’s a historical romance), but Roanne O’Casey has a fearless spirit. She doesn’t back down from a challenge, and she has to wed or die.

Roanne O'Casey has no desire to wed…but is under the control of an ancient prophecy. Fate takes away her choice when the fiercely independent Irishwoman is forced to marry the enemy, an Englishman…and is swept off her feet.

Simon Lancaster never intends to wed, but he agrees to marry the redhead in the rollicking Irish pub, in front of her rowdy brothers, as an amusing lark. His attraction for Roanne grows until he learns of his brother's death, and evidence points to one of her brothers.

When Roanne accompanies her husband to England, she walks into a trap for a killer. How can she solve the murder and win Simon's heart?

Award-winning author Darcy Carson grew up reading everything her mother brought home from the library. Reading romances became her favorite topic. Eventually her love of those novels led her to start writing them. She resides in a Seattle suburb with her husband and a prince of a toy poodle.