We have a very special guest today, Anny Cook!!
Tessie said, "Introduce yourself!"
I am Anny Cook, author of eighteen published titles ranging from a short novel for an anthology to several longer novels. I have written two fantasy series plus several paranormal and contemporary romances. All my erotic romances, whether two people or more, have one important thing in common—love with a happy ending.
Reader, author, wife, parent and grandmother, I fit it all in my busy life. I've moved over forty times, lived in six states, and worked jobs as varied as fast food, warehousing, teaching adult education classes and executive secretary. Now officially retired, I began writing in 2005 when I found myself at loose ends after yet another move. Married to the same man over forty-three years, I currently lives with my house hunk in Maryland.
My newest release--Phantom's Rest from Passion in Print--is set in an RV park for permanent residents. Readers ask why an RV park? Well, I have a confession to make. For much of my life, I lived in trailer parks. And I'm tired of that expression "trailer trash". Part of the perpetration of that expression is due to stereotyped characters in romance books. Yep. It's true.
Every time I read about a trashy woman who lives in a trailer park, I just want to cringe. From experience, I can tell you the same percentage of trashy women live in apartments, high tone neighborhoods, small family neighborhoods, and anywhere else you can think of. But our perception of that expression "trailer park" is visceral and immediate. It means cheap, junk cars, trash in the yard, and loose women with their beer drinkin' men.
My children were called trailer trash most of their lives though their home was more expensive to live in than the brick home three blocks away. And our park had far more rigid rules than the fanciest subdivisions in our town.
I decided to introduce readers to the real people who live in trailer parks, but for the purposes of my story, I needed some movement among the inhabitants so I settled on an RV park. In my park, the Phantom's Rest, there are families, singles, elders all living together in harmony along with the ghosts of Phantom's Rest. When assassins come to town and threaten one of their own, they all join together to defend her.
I'm so proud that Passion in Print--the heterosexual imprint of Man Love Romances--liked my story, too! I want to thank Tessie for having me as her guest!
Phantom’s Rest by Anny Cook from Passion in Print
When Beauregard Barker leaves his military career due to injuries, he takes refuge at the Phantom’s Rest RV Park, expecting no more than a place to recover as he helps renovate the park. First he discovers the place is full of ghosts. Then Emmeline Fairchild arrives for her annual stay and everything changes. Beau falls hard for the shy calligrapher who’s being stalked by a killer. Whatever it takes, he’s determined to keep her safe and persuade her he’s the man for her.
Narrow shafts of sunlight sneaked past the blinds to bombard him in the face. Grumpily, Beau rolled over and pulled the lumpy pillow over his head. A series of muffled thumps from outside invaded his restless sleep.
Beau groped in the covers for Woobie’s “baby”—a tattered, ragged teddy bear—and tossed it in her direction.
Then the familiar strains of a man singing something Italian wove their way from next door. Vaguely, he recognized the artist as one of Aunt Agatha’s favorites, though his name escaped Beau at the moment. When the volume abruptly grew louder, Woobie lifted her head and howled along with the singer in a doggie duet. The music soared to a towering crescendo as Woobie ended on a high note.
Cursing, Beau sat up and glared at the door. The melody sounded a lot like opera—his least favorite genre of music. When the singer switched from operatic Italian to a hypnotic Spanish number accompanied by flashy guitar work, his patience reached its limits. While Woobie soulfully howled along with the new song, Beau knuckled his burning eyes, listening to his dog in disbelief. He leaned over, groping on the floor for his clothes. Finally, he snatched up his plaid boxers, jerking them on wrong side out before leaping from his camper to storm his way to the driveway next door.
His eyes were bloodshot from the inside out. Tiny leprechauns were lustily hammering in his head. He yelped and cursed as he stepped on a sharp stone. Hopping sideways on his bad foot, he twisted his ankle, landing squarely on his butt in a small puddle of water. Clapping his hands over his ears, he tried to block out the soaring music as the singer reached a powerful finale with Woobie howling in the background.
Abruptly, the music stopped. He closed his eyes, savoring the exquisite relief.
And then she laughed.
You can find Anny on the internet at:
Thanks so much for coming by today, Anny!