Today’s guest is Olivia Fields. She’s in the hot seat to talk
about her historical romance, Her Heart’s
Liege.
While Olivia does her virtual book tour, she’s going to be giving away a $25
Amazon or Barnes and Noble gift card (winner’s choice) to a lucky randomly
drawn person. To be entered for a chance to win, use the form below. To increase your chances of winning, feel free
to visit her other tour stops and enter there, too!
Bio:
For years, college professor Olivia Fields has been writing
romantic tales to pacify her muse and entertain her friends. She believes in
making her characters work for their happy endings.
When not at her keyboard, Olivia enjoys nature hikes,
photography, and the constant companionship of several rather irregularly trimmed
dogs.
Welcome, Olivia. Please tell us about your current release.
Her Heart’s Liege is a fun,
action-packed tale in the Arthurian tradition of knights, battles, and
chivalry, except that it flips the conventional gender roles and features a
responsible female knight/guardian who is tasked with protecting an
exasperating, irresponsible prince.
The reader gets to enjoy watching both the heroine and her
unlikely hero as they are tempered in the forge of adventure, political
intrigue, and invasion. Events conspire to help them realize their
potential as leaders, fighters, and of course, romantic partners.
What inspired you to write this book?
I was watching a medieval swords and heroes movie and thinking
how many of them are sausage fests. The one woman in the movie talked
about adventure, but all she actually did was scream and get herself in trouble
(by leaving the custody of male protectors) so she had to be rescued by men
(and returned to the custody of male protectors). I looked around and saw
all the little girls sitting in the theater drinking in that kind of female
role model. I decided I wanted to provide an alternative, in the
relatively rare tradition of women like Joan of Arc, Leia Organa, or possibly
Brienne of Tarth.
Excerpt from Her Heart’s
Liege:
When Alex finally went up, she found Prince Holden squinting into the cloudy
tin mirror hanging on the room's wall, working to neaten his beard a bit with
his razor. Trimming himself evenly appeared to be an uphill battle, one in
which he was achieving limited success at best. He'd bathed, but he hadn't
bothered with a shirt, though he'd put his breeches on.
She could feel the weight of his gaze even though her eyes were
covered, and hoped her pose couldn't be construed as a provocative one, but she
refused to move.
"Alex, I want to return to Norwich." His voice was
steady and resolute.
"So do I." She left her arm over her face. "I'm
afraid it isn't my choice to make."
He chewed on that for a moment. "No, I suppose not."
His voice was thoughtful. "I suppose it isn't."
His tone alarmed her. She moved her arm and peered at him
suspiciously. "It isn't yours, either. Your father wanted me to take you
west. I'll do as ordered, if I have to bind you and haul you in the bed of the
wagon."
"I'll arm wrestle you again. You win? We go west. I win? We
go east." He looked at her evenly.
She considered the wager, remembering the ease with which he'd
lifted those buckets, estimating the new strength of his sword-arm. "I
think not." She might still beat him, with luck. But then again…
He chuckled, and she felt a flare of irritation.
"I'll wrestle you for a lesser bet," she snapped
without thinking, and he tilted his head, raising a brow.
"That's a deal." He rose, moving to pull the room's
single small table away from the wall and over to the bed. There wasn't much
space, and there was only one straight chair; he had to sit on the bed, leaving
the chair to her. "What will you wager?"
"What is there to wager?" Their
money, the wagon, the lodgings, the weapons, and even their food were all
community property.
"A kiss." He challenged her with his eyes.
"You haven't changed at all." Alex rolled her gaze to
the heavens. This was madness.
"I wouldn't agree." He put his elbow on the table,
flexing his fingers. "Do you accept the wager?"
She wondered if she could still beat him. They'd both be motivated
to do their best, she was certain. "No."
"You're afraid I'll beat you." His eyes were
hot, and his mouth curved upward.
"I'm afraid we're well-matched enough one of us will
hurt the other."
"You're afraid to kiss me."
"I don't want to kiss you. There's a
difference."
"You'd chance the contest if you weren't
afraid."
He knew how to get under her skin, no doubt. She scowled
at him.
"After all the times you've thrashed me with your
wooden sword." How did he manage to advance on her even when
he remained seated and unmoving? She had no idea. But the more she dithered,
the worse her authority suffered.
Furious, she slammed herself down in the seat. "Fine. Let's
get it over with."
He clasped her hand, moving rather more slowly and deliberately
than she liked. He moved his left hand to grip hers. She scowled at him,
settling into position, planning her strategy. She could use her nails to
aggravate the healing blisters on his hands, but that wouldn't be sporting.
She'd have to take the advantage early and never let him recover.
"Ready?" he asked, voice soft.
"Ready." She wasn't. She drew a deep breath.
"I'll count down. Three. Two. One."
She set her shoulder, prepared for the force of his initial
push, anticipating his strength. He was more powerful than she'd feared. His
brow creased, and he held her first counter-surge.
She wasn't going to win.
She fought him valiantly, but she didn't have his weight, and
he'd been working hard. Their hands quivered, and her muscles started to burn.
His eyes darted up to hers. She saw anticipation of victory
there, along with surprise and pleasure.
She would have to cheat.
What exciting story are you working on next?
I’ve just sent my second novel to my publisher (and am already working on a
second novel in that universe). It’s a paranormal romance about a
reluctant, shy incubus and his struggle to come to terms with his identity as a
predator, forced to take sexual energy from human women in order to
survive.
Early in life he preyed on a woman without thinking and
accidentally drained her to death. This traumatized him so much he stays
isolated and only takes what he has to in order to survive. After
centuries of this, though, he’s made a critical error: he slipped up and fell
in love.
Before the incubus can leave his love to ensure her safety, an
ancient enemy surfaces, determined to take revenge for that long-ago
death. He traps the incubus in a situation where is he can’t help but
drain and kill the woman he loves. A globe-spanning adventure ensues as
the couple races against time to find a way to for her to survive their
relationship.
When did you first consider yourself a writer?
I don’t know how to answer this. Am I a writer? What
is a writer? What makes one a writer? If it’s just writing because
you want to even when you don’t have to, I’ve been one since second or third
grade. If it’s writing what you love in defiance of various authority
figures who don’t want you to write that, I’ve been one since junior high
school, and there’s no end in sight. If it’s writing for money, I’ve been
one since my middle twenties, when I landed a brief job as a newspaper
correspondent. If it’s using writing as your sole source of income, then
who knows if I’ll ever become a writer?
I’m thinking of an episode of Family Guy where
Lois comes in holding a newspaper article Brian wrote and compliments him,
saying it’s so well done it’s almost like he’s a real writer! Brian just stares at her, kind of like I’m staring at this question.
Maybe I’ve been a writer ever since I was conceived. I was
just waiting to be taught language skills and develop enough manual dexterity
to wield a pencil or use a keyboard.
Do you write full-time? If so, what's your work day like? If not, what do
you do other than write and how do you find time to write?
I don’t have the luxury of writing full-time, unfortunately. I have a
very demanding day job that involves lots of contact with very demanding
clients and huge amounts of paperwork. I have to squeeze my writing in
around the edges. Living in the world of my writing makes me feel very
much as if I have a secret, second life that none of my co-workers or clients
knows about!
On a typical day I’ll get up a couple of hours early, full of
fresh ideas, and if I don’t have paperwork I have to complete before a looming
deadline, I’ll work on my latest story until I have to shower and go to my day
job. I’ll work my day job for anywhere from 7 to 13 hours before dragging
home, exhausted, to tend to the business side of my writing. Usually in
the evenings I tackle the less creatively demanding work of publicity, editing,
and similar tasks. Then I fall into bed, exhausted, to get ready to wake
up and do it all over again!
I am a single woman with dogs rather than children. If not
for that, there’s no way I’d be able to write. I am amazed by people who
can balance a family and children with the kind of time and dedication it takes
to be a writer.
What would you say is your interesting writing quirk?
When writing, I quietly throw in dozens, if not hundreds, of cultural
references. I use small isolated statements, pieces of clothing, or items
from favorite television shows, books, and movies. Sometimes I borrow a location
or have in mind a particular person (either from real life or an actor) to play
a character. These things help spark my creativity, give the story a
feeling of fullness, and sometimes push the story in interesting directions I
didn’t anticipate.
T. S. Eliot practiced this kind of technique in his poems, and
he gave me the idea. He felt it provides a mosaic effect that makes a
writer’s work more texturally interesting. He believed if you have a
fragment from another work of art in your own writing, then the entire artwork
is implicit in, and becomes a part of, your own writing. That can make
your work a broader and deeper reading experience both for you and for the
audience (especially if a reader subconsciously recognizes the reference). Using well-known fragments can help you conjure a very specific and detailed
mood.
As a child, what did you want to be when you grew up?
I wanted to be a helicopter pilot! One of the strong
female characters who inspired me early in life was on the short-lived cop
show 240 Robert, on which Joanna Cassidy, better known as Eddie
Valiant’s girlfriend in Who Framed Roger Rabbit, portrayed a tough,
no-nonsense lady who piloted a chopper in a search and rescue operation
designed to catch crooks and get accident victims to safety. I was
enchanted by the idea that a girl could do that kind of thing. Also, the
woman knew how to rock an awful orange jumpsuit.
Anything additional you want to share with the readers?
Don’t
let someone else crush your life’s deepest, most passionate dreams. There
will probably always be someone there to say “you can’t/shouldn’t follow
them.” Do it anyway.
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