I've found that the more I write, the more I like being different to other authors. I write in first person, and I love to challenge a reader.
I take the normal and switch it around.
For me, I really enjoy getting a reaction from a reader. So if I can evoke an emotion (regardless of if it's the emotion the reader wants) then I figure that I've done my job as an author I want to be.
I really quite revel in taking people out of their comfort zones and pushing them to read something different.
My genre of writing is, well quite frankly, where ever my mind goes. I won't label myself because I don't like sticking to one genre.
My goal with writing is just to take people away from whatever is going on in their lives, even if it's only for a split second.
I'm a go with the flow sort of person and don't really take a course of action to get where I am going. I live in the moment and don't usually worry about tomorrow because whatever life is due to bring me, I'll be happy to accept.
I love my family and friends and will help anyway I can if someone needs it. I really don't like people that are nasty just because they can be, I don't believe that's necessary, I mean life's hard enough as it is!
I hope you enjoy my books, I've had a hoot writing them. There's more to come.....
Til next time.
I don't do 'normal'.
Visit Margaret on Facebook! | Twitter: @MargaretMAuthor
Jaeger Dalton wants the land that was promised to him.
Phoenix Ward isn’t about to let anyone take Freedom Run away from her.
He’ll protect what’s his.
She’ll protect what’s hers.
Jaeger is an arrogant ass, but he wants nothing more than Phoenix.
Phoenix is stubborn and headstrong, and she wants Jaeger out of her life.
Her father lost the family farm to gambling debts, but Jaeger isn’t the only one who has a claim to the property.
Sometimes it’s best to let things go.
But sometimes it’s better to fight until the very end.
*This excerpt is unedited and subject to change.
“You stay here,” I instruct Sarge. He simply nods and leans back on his bike.
I go to the front of the house and take the four creaky steps that lead to the front door.
I knock twice and step to the side of the heavy wooden entry that’s been covered by a sheer flimsy security door.
The big solid wood creaks open, and the first thing I see is a double-barrel pointing at my face.
My heart instantly reacts and picks up pace as it starts thumping so hard I can hear it in my ears, just pounding a strong rhythmic unyielding beat.
The hair on the back of my neck stands to attention with an alluring anticipation and excitement.
My blood hastily boils and pumps hard touching every nerve ending in my body.
My throat completely dries and it becomes difficult to swallow the huge lump sitting at the base.
Not because I’m staring down a double-barrel.
Not from sheer terror of the possibility of death.
Not for any logical reason.
My body reacts because I’m fucking turned on.