Tuesday, 9 July 2013

Talking Bull

I'm often asked which of my books I loved writing the most, which is like asking to choose your favourite child. Of course, it's impossible to say. But I do have a sneaking regard for Bull at the Gate, probably because it's my only contemporary romance (to date) which has a hint of the paranormal about it and was great fun to write.

The idea for Bull at the Gate simmered for a couple of years before I actually decided to write Dee and Alex’s story. Fascinated by a snippet in the UK press about a housing development centred around an ancient stone and the controversy it created, I was inspired to write my own take on the concept. However, I had to wait until I had exactly the right characters to make it work.

While Dee is a modern woman, with her own business and her feet planted firmly on the ground, she is driven by love for the grandmother who raised her and a respect for the traditions of the village where she grew up. So when developer Alex McKinley arrives and threatens to destroy an old fairy gate which is central to the village’s rituals and beliefs, and very special to her grandmother, Dee steps in to fight him all the way.

His rigid and uncompromising attitude earns Alex the nickname “Bull” but only he knows the demons he must fight to provide for his young daughter. A single parent, he plans to give his child the best money can buy and that means throwing his weight behind the prestigious, and lucrative, new development in what he considers an antiquated English village.

While I love Dee’s fiery passion, and her equally “bullish” attitude toward protecting the intangible things she holds dear to her heart, I also feel for Alex, who thinks the only way to protect his child is through practical, and financial, means. These two people and their differing desires certainly make an explosive mix and, of course, neither considers the influencing power of the old fairy gate ;)

Here's the blurb and an extract:

Alexander “Bull” McKinley’s reputation as a hard-nosed businessman is tested when an old Fairy Gate and local superstition stand in the way of a lucrative development contract. Alex has his hands full trying to convince the villagers to play ball, without the unexpected—and definitely unwanted—attraction to the feisty redhead leading the revolt.

Dee Ashman detests those who put profit before people, and she’s damned if an arrogant, insensitive and, okay, wildly attractive capitalist is going to destroy the symbolic heart of the village and break her beloved grandmother’s heart.

But they cannot deny the desire that burns between them nor the unleashed passion neither can resist.


She looked down at the hand he offered. “What’s that? On your hand?”
    He glanced down, turned his wrist. “Allergy or something. Damn thing won’t stop itching.”
    She took a step back. “When did it start?”
    “Last night.”
    Left hand, she noticed. Hers was on her right. The hands they’d touched that night as they stood by the Fairy Gate.
    “Weird,” she said almost to herself, and held up her right hand to show him. “Don’t you think that’s the strangest thing?”
    “We both have it.”
    He narrowed his eyes. “So?”
    “It must be some reaction to that electric shock thing we had going.”
    He pursed his lips. “Hardly probable.”
    “Then maybe it really was a warning from the Gate.” She tried not to smirk. “Warning you to keep away from me.” 
    “Only one way to find out.”
    “We already tried that.”
    “We weren’t anywhere near the Gate. This time we are.”
    He started walking toward the structure, jerking his head for her to follow.
    It was, after all, only an experiment, Dee told herself . If they touched hands and nothing happened then all would be well and that would be that. But if they had that shock again, then something weird really was happening and it had to do with the Gate.
    Ten feet from the structure, Alex held out his hand. Keeping her gaze on his, Dee tentatively reached out. She let her fingers hover above his, their palms an inch apart. Then his fingers curled around hers.
    Not exactly an electric shock, but there was definitely a tingle, an awareness, sizzling right through her palm, up into her wrist and along her arm.
    “Feel anything?” he asked, keeping her hand firmly in his.
    She shook her head. “You?”
    “Uh, uh.”
    She realised she was in no hurry to pull her hand away and felt an altogether different kind of sizzle as his dark gaze slipped over her body in a sultry and seductive manner. “Maybe we should try something else.”

Buy Links:


Lavada Dee said...

I love this story.

Tricia Jones said...

Thanks, Lavada!