Today we have Rhea Regale telling us about how she became a writer. Here's her story ~
If you were to ask me when I was still 9 what I wanted to be when I grew up, writer would NOT have been my answer. I'd much rather clean a bathroom before I sat down to read or write. It wasn't until my closest friend gave me a thriller as a birthday present that I found a love for reading. I devoured books in this genre, as well as the paranormal genre, but I wasn't always satisfied with the way a story went or the way it ended.
My first attempt at writing happened during Christmas break when I was 11. My closest friend and I (we were inseparable) decided that we should try and write a story. Sounded like loads of fun to me! I couldn't wait to create a story that I had control over. The characters were mine. The idea was mine. The plot-I really didn't grasp the concept of a plot back then-was mine.
My earlier books will never see the world outside my filing cabinet, but it sparked my love for writing.
I started writing in the genre I read and branched out to paranormal. Had I been asked if I'd ever write romance back then, I would've rejected the very notion vehemently, despite those secret scenes I left out of my books that focused on the on-page romance that I decidedly kept off the page. Only after I had my first child did I creep into the romance department of the bookstore and purchase my first romance, red-cheeked and all.
One book turned into a massive library very quickly and I finally made the leap into romance writing. I couldn't believe that I had suppressed my love of romance for so long! I found my true niche. My earlier works were mainstream (under a different name). I mean, after all, I would never write erotic romance. Well, then I ventured into erotic romance and swore I would never ever write menage romance. Guess what happened? Yep. I went down the menage path. I love writing menage books, erotic romance, light erotic romance, but I would never never ever write anything that contained a male/male relationship. Ha. Did that too.
My journey to becoming a writer was filled with a lot of "nevers," but "never" for me is a self-imposed challenge. I am a competitive person, even when it's against myself. I love writing. I love my characters. I love building worlds, living in those worlds while I'm writing, and recalling those worlds when I'm through. I write from my heart, and will continue to write as long as I can.
|Purchase at Bookstrand|
[Ménage Amour: Erotic Cowboy Ménage a Trois Romance, M/F/M, bondage, spanking, sex toys, HEA]
Brianna Cabot has one goal coming to Ryder, Kansas, with coworker and boyfriend, Jackson Morrell. Contract land for their boss’s new luxury resort to lock in a golden promotion. A brutal car accident puts a dent in her plans. So does Ryder’s handsome sheriff and partial owner of the prime property, Rylan Ryder.
Nine months ago, Rylan lost his girlfriend to Crosslane. Rescuing Brianna draws on painful memories of having been helpless to save the woman he had loved, but stirs awake long forgotten desires. Their ongoing feud over her boss’s proposal fuels the escalating attraction between them. Unfortunately, the woman is his closest pal’s girlfriend, and therefore off-limits. Little does he know, Jackson has a plan of his own to lure Rylan into their relationship and share a woman neither man can do without.
Even the most carefully laid plans are threatened when someone from Brianna’s past arrives, who has no intention of leaving without his prize.
“Rylan, I’m not askin’ you, or your family, to abandon your town,” Brianna started.
“Listen to me, Miss Cabot—”
Rylan held her gaze steady for a long, heart-pounding moment. Time might’ve slowed, she couldn’t be sure, but her thoughts came to a halt. Rylan became the only being of her focused attention, as did his encouraging words in those moments she thought she was dying. Jackson opened a door last night, one she was scared to death to cross. He read her as clear as crystal, knew she held something for the sheriff, and offered them a chance to invite Rylan into their relationship.
Brianna blinked the haze from her eyes. Rylan’s arm stretched toward her, and when she looked down, he was holding her coffee cup upright. Occasional ripples swept along the top of the drink, a giveaway to her trembling fingers.
Oh. My. God.
Her name rolled off his tongue smooth, silky, filled with a raw edge of command. This man had a voice that raked down her body like the teasing scrape of teeth and nails in the throes of foreplay. Each letter of her name spoken in his deep, sexual husk flicked along her pussy, a phantom tongue playing across her clit.
Miss Cabot. Call me Miss Cabot again.
Brianna carefully placed her cup on an empty section of his desk and loosened the scarf around her neck. She worked up a forced smile, cleared her throat, and nodded.
“I’m fine. Probably just some aftereffects of medication and the surgery and whatnot.” She flicked her hand in a nonchalant fashion and unbuttoned her coat. She laughed, shrugging out of the insulating item. “As we were sayin’.”
Rylan’s penetrating gaze didn’t lighten up, even as he eased back into his chair, perched his elbows on the arms, and folded his hands below his chin. His index fingers tapped together, a subtle furrow creasing his left brow. No matter what, this man knew how to wear every expression in the sexiest way.
“You’re still pressin’ the topic, are you? As I was about to say, there will be no further discussion. Colt and I own that property jointly. If I am not willin’ to sell, it won’t be sold. And I’ll tell you this much. You think I’m bein’ stubborn, wait ’til you confront Colt. This is a dead end for you. I’m sorry about your promotion, but your motivations do not align with mine. Ryder is a town rooted in our ancestry. We’re country folk. Farmers, ranchers, rodeo competitors, cattle herders. We have absolutely no interest in promoting a five-star resort and spa in conjunction with the ranch. That is not what this town represents.”
Balling up her courage, she placed together her business ego and took to a dangerous tactic. “I understand Colt might be facin’ civil charges in the murder—”
“I’m sorry, I’m not discussin’ that with you.” Hot to cold, like a damn switch. Rylan rolled his chair to her with a single, strong kick against the floor. One fluid twist, he had his legs on either side of hers, hands wrapped tightly around the metal arms of her chair, and he leaned closer to her. Brianna kept her shoulders straight, but her blood was threatening to melt through her veins and leak into her body. Nothing about Rylan offered comfort or kindness as he hovered close. Everything about him was wild, raw, a predator with his eyes on his prey. The fine line of threat and passion blended.
Jackson said he was a passionate man. If this is what he brings to bed, god help me.
“You have no business castin’ assumptions about my cousin’s predicament when you can’t even get the facts about your promotion-promisin’ deal right. You toss another sucker punch like that, Miss Cabot, and I will chase you out of this town faster than a bull in an arena ever could. Do I make myself clear?”
Oh he did, except for the slip of his gaze lowering to her mouth that turned up the heat between them to an explosive degree. She fought to keep each breath steady and even, praying he didn’t notice the frantic thumping of her heart that filled her own ears and hit her chest wall so viciously she thought her sweater was thumping in time. She held her ground, challenging him as he held tight to the chair. Slowly, she leaned into him, bringing her face dangerously close to his. Her knees fell open, resting against the insides of his powerful thighs. She watched his pupils expand, swallowing the amber-brown of his eyes. His nostrils flared and his breath hitched.
Brianna folded her hands around the arms of her chair, her fingers reinforcing Rylan’s grip. “You’re threatenin’ me, Sheriff. I don’t take lightly to bein’ threatened.” She gave his fingers a gentle squeeze. “Would this be considered a form of restraint? I thought restrainin’ a person without probable cause was illegal.”
“This is nothin’, Brianna.”
Growing up, I was always the quiet girl who knew everyone but never quite fit in. I kept busy with dance, cheerleading, and numerous other activities. I was an overachiever, a hard worker, and very dedicated to anything I pursued. When I decided that I loved writing enough to follow along the writer’s career path, nothing deterred me from reaching my goals. I didn’t go to college straight out of high school, but rather focused all my free time and energy into my stories. Negativity could not steer me off the path of my dreams. It only made me more determined to succeed as a writer. Now, with a loving family, I continue to do what I love most. Write from my heart and share my stories with the world.