Lea Bronson's Dark Romantic Suspense

Today, I want to welcome Lea Bronsen to my blog. 

She's talking about her thriller/romance. It looks gripping.

Fiery 10-16 is a scorching firefighter story of desire, abuse, and bravery.

Runo Wiggins is a scarred man, the wounds etched into his psyche deeper than those on his skin. But he loves his job: fighting fires helps reenact his survival of a house fire as a teen, one that killed his mother and brutal stepfather.

Dawn Caravello is married to a psychotic drunk. She can take his beatings as long as he doesn't touch their children, and she'll do anything to put food on the table, even if it means stealing from the town hero.

When Runo meets the fiery Dawn, sparks fly. But he suspects she is victim of the same abuse as his mother was. As day turns to night, the past and the present blend in an exhausting, nerve-wrecking chase to prevent another death.

Excerpt:

Dawn's eyes shimmered with a mix of stubborn pride and extreme sadness. They seemed to be made of molten brown stone. Runo had never seen eyes like these. So vibrant, saying so many things. They revealed her life, her endurance, her dreams, her combats, her despair. And she was still so young.

While he stared, she leaned forward and kissed him, an act a whole lot more intimate than he was comfortable with. A short, hard peck, a statement. Not the tender gesture a kiss was supposed to be, but one telling him her gratitude as well as her dignity. She thanked him, but was going to go back to her life and continue fighting.

He stood shocked, his whole body rigid, didn’t know what to do. She, such a small woman thing a whole head shorter, shook him, a giant of muscle and stupid testosterones inside a hard shell.

He would definitely take care of Dawn and her kids. Any way possible. Alert the authorities and make sure they got the protection they desperately needed.

She stepped backward, her features softening, and turned on her heel.

Not so fast.

He cleared his throat and called, lifting a weak hand. “Hey, wait!” His heart hammered in his chest, blood pulsed in his ears.

She turned. “What?”

“Promise to be good. Promise it’s the last time you do it.”

“Do what?” Her eyes gleamed with humor. “Kiss you?” In the midst of this emotional turmoil, she found the strength to tease.

“Steal.”

And lie.

She pursed her lips, looking like a disappointed little girl. Maybe she still was a child inside. A child taking care of children. A child beaten savagely.

He swallowed. “Promise.”

After several long seconds, she nodded. But her gaze told a different truth.

Liar.

Links:

Amazon.com / Amazon.uk / Paperback

Add the book to your Goodreads list!

About Lea Bronsen:

I like my reads hot, fast, and edgy, and strive to give my own stories the same intensity. After venturing into dirty inner-city crime drama with my debut novel Wild Hearted, I divide my writing time between psychological thriller, romantic suspense, and erotic dark/contemporary romance.

I love to hear from my readers! Write to leabronsen@yahoo.com or meet me on:

Website / Blog / Facebook / Twitter / Amazon / Pinterest

Highly Sensitive People

I discovered something about myself today and it's made so many things fall into place. I'm a highly sensitive person (HSP). Yes, there actually is such a thing. 

In my fantasy novel, Angeline 43, Essa says that she can't bear to go to nightclubs because she gets sensory overload. At the time of writing it, I didn't even know about the HSP theory. It certainly matches my character. Here's a short excerpt about it:

The cab driver knew the place, which made me feel a little

uneasy. It was next to a well-known restaurant/nightclub, just my

favorite place to visit in the middle of the night. I had no choice.

After paying him an exorbitant fare, I entered the building, bracing

myself for sleaze, or just plain intimidation, although the outside

looked pretty neat and not covered in graffiti and peeling paint. But

I’d have to deal with glares of disapproval. I’d never been one to

dress up to the nines. Neither did I fit well in an alcohol and

smoke-infused environment due to my sensory issues. The smells

overpowered me—and the high noise levels when people were

intoxicated and fancy-free—something I’d never experienced.

Anyway, several of the following things are signs that I'm an HSP:

1. I don't like loud noises. We've moved next to a highway and I'm struggling to cut off to the noise. I used to hate discos when I grew up with the flashing lights and loud music.

2. I feel pain more than others. When the physiotherapist put some funny machine on me which vibrates and tingles on your skin (don't ask me the name), she had to set it so low because it hurt. 

3. I was often called too sensitive as a child and have been since by loved ones.

4. I feel the emotions / moods of others very intensely.

5. I need time to myself after a very busy day - I've even hidden in the bathroom before. :)

6. I don't handle caffeine or alcohol well.

HSP's are usually very creative / caring people. We have special talents but we also have challenges and are often misunderstood as difficult and hard to handle. Are you an HSP or do you have a child / spouse / sibling who is one?

You can take this test to find out. I scored a whopping 24!

http://hsperson.com/test/

I'd love to see the movie.

It's Out!

My fantasy novel is now out.

I've been so busy with setting up my new home as I've moved to Durban near the coast. Can you believe that we still haven't visited the sea yet? We'll get there.

Anyway, my book came out yesterday but I was out the whole day sorting out problems with our internet for the new home and buying stuff, editing (which is my day job), then I had family visiting in the evening. So, here it is:

Angeline 43

An Urban Fantasy

By

Kathy Bosman

The Greatest Power Comes from the Greatest Pain

Blurb:

Essa sprouts wings on her back whenever she suffers the deepest grief. The love of her life has just left her without a solid reason. She’s flung into the depths of sorrow, unable to deal with her grief and the added stress of wings on her back which only she can see. She has to get out her apartment so she takes a walk along the streets of Boston at night.

To her surprise, her wings come to life when she finds herself fighting against an evil spirit set on destroying a man’s life. By pure instinct and a special light within her, she saves his life and is flung into a whole new world. Suddenly, she’s an angeline, a hybrid human/angel, and she’s part of a team of warriors who need to save the city of Boston. And they’re all depending on her, as she’s the only one with wings.

But is Essa ready for the evil that awaits her? And can she really fight a battle when her heart is filled with pain?

Excerpt:

“We’re all angelines.”

None of them had wings. Was this some type of joke?

“I don’t understand.” I felt a strong surge of anger for no reason. Well, there must have been a reason. Maybe I hated that none of them had wings. It galled me that they didn’t feel the pain that sat in the center of my gut with every step I took.

“Our wings are in remission.”

Was this a type of cancer? Remission? Maybe they’d gotten over their grieving period like I did after a while. Still, what exactly did they mean? “Get to the point,” I said.

“Look, I can understand your anger. There’s a lot to take in.”

Tahullah moved away from behind the desk and came to me. She held out her hand for me to take. I stared at it. I didn’t like affection from women. It didn’t feel right. Especially seeing my mom had been affectionate but then left without even a goodbye. I looked into her eyes. The brilliant blue sparkled with tears. “You’re hurting,” she added. “We’ve all been there.”

I looked at Skythe and Cornelia. Their faces showed kindness, even Cornelia’s. I didn’t even bother to glance at Golde as I could feel the hatred coming off him in waves.

“There are about ten of us in the States. The four of us are in Boston at the moment because there’s a lot of spiritual activity here.” She shook her head and looked away. Skythe fingered his sword. I sensed the seriousness of the situation, but I needed more personal answers before I asked what she meant by spiritual activity.

“What’s an angeline?”

“We’re hybrid,” Tahullah said. “Half angel, half human.”

Buy Links:

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Angeline-43-Kathy-Bosman-ebook/dp/B06WVD2BG6

Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/705637

Kobo Books: https://www.kobo.com/za/en/ebook/angeline-43

Barnes and Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/angeline-43-kathy-bosman/1125794883?ean=2940157441524

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/34375125-angeline-43?from_search=true