Today we have a guest on the blog: Author Cathy Skendrovich!
I have been writing for myself since 2010, but I didn’t get up the nerve to attempt getting published until 2013. It took two tries, and then Entangled Publishing picked up my first manuscript, Prisoner of Love.
What inspired this book?
The Pirate Bride’s Holiday Romance is a sequel to The Pirate’s Bride, which came out this past January. After I wrote that full length novel, my fans on Wattpad, an online writing site I belong to, wanted to know what happened to Andre, Sophie, and Gilbert. That’s why I wrote the Christmas sequel.
What’s the last book you read?
I just finished reading Seeing Red, by Sandra Brown. It has such an awesome hook at the beginning!
Where’s your favorite place you’ve ever traveled and somewhere you haven’t been yet but you’d love to go?
I love the Columbia Gorge in Washington state. Beautiful, beautiful, area. I dearly want to visit Scotland.
If you could pick two celebrities to play the main characters in your book, who would they be?
I envisioned Johnny Depp as Captain Andre Dubois, and Rachel Weisz as Captain Sophie Bellard Dubois.
What was your first job?
I was the hairbrush girl in the salon my mom went to. I washed the hairbrushes of all the stylists, stocked their counters, and swept the floor. Each stylist paid me a whole $.50!
Have you ever used a real-life friend or relative as a character in your books?
Most definitely, I have, but only parts of their personalities. For example, Jake Dalton from Prisoner of Love has a lot of my husband’s sense of humor. Lucy Parker, from the same book, has a lot of me. Captain Andre Dubois has a bit of both my sons. And, the gunfighter in the book I’m currently editing has my dad’s patience.
Do you have any pets?
My pet is my four-year-old male Sheltie, Scooter. He’s a mama’s boy, following me around and sitting with me while I write. I love him to pieces.
What’s your favorite thing about spring?
Spring in Southern California means sunny days with sea breezes, and temperatures from sixty-eight to seventy-five, with the occasional rainy day. I love the weather. I also love all the flowers, especially daffodils. Their cheery, yellow blooms look so beautiful in my backyard. My husband plants the bulbs every fall for me.
What’s your favorite part of the publishing process?
I think it’s when I get the cover. I love to see the artist’s rendition of what I described.
How long did it take you to write this book?
This book, being a novella, only took about three months. Most books take me about nine months. Sometimes I get writer’s block, or I procrastinate finishing, because I hate to say goodbye to my characters.
Cathy Skendrovich has always loved a good story, and spent her formative years scribbling what is now called Fan Fiction. The current heartthrob of the time featured heavily in all her stories. Unfortunately, once she went to college, her writing took the form of term papers, written on typewriters instead of computer keyboards.
Upon graduation, Cathy took a job as an English teacher in a middle school. Along the way, she married her husband of now thirty-three years, had two sons, and moved to southern Orange County, California. She chose to work part-time in the school system there.
Now she has returned to writing. Prisoner of Love is her first published novel, followed closely by The Pirate’s Bride. The sequel to The Pirate’s Bride, The Pirate Bride’s Holiday Masquerade, is due out Oct. 1. Another contemporary romantic suspense, entitled Protecting the Nanny, is due out in 2018.
She likes writing romance because she feels it’s lacking in today’s technological world. While she enjoys writing contemporary stories, creating romance in bygone times fascinates her. She hopes her ability to write in both genres will be the beginning of a long and satisfying writing career.
You can reach Cathy at the following sites. She loves hearing from readers.
Excerpt from The Pirate Bride’s Holiday Masquerade
Sophie’s head snapped up at the sound of the unforgettable voice from her past, while her purse fell to the cobbled street from suddenly nerveless fingers. Her body began to shudder and vibrate at the nightmare that was Gilbert Harrington’s silky voice.
She felt faint, in danger of collapsing, her past hurtling toward her like an out-of-control mining cart threatening to jump its track. She reached out a steadying hand against the brick wall of the flower shop.
No longer did she occupy a cobbled street of the Vieux Carré during Avent. She’d been transported, trembling and afraid, to that time, five years ago, when she’d lost her innocence. Her innocence, and her youth. Just the sound of his voice, the timbre and its cadence, was enough to catapult her into a shivering mass of fear and dread.
She had no defense, carried no weapon. How could she? Gone was her pirate garb, her protective armor. In its place, she wore silk and brocade, gilt buttons and a feathered hat. There was no hiding place for a deadly dagger or a one-shot pistol. Just as there was no devilish pirate to come swinging in on a line, clenching a curved blade between his teeth and racing to her rescue. She was his defenseless prey.
As she continued to stare dumbly at the man before her, one part of her mind, not frozen in fear, noticed that Gilbert Harrington hadn’t changed much in five years. He’d bulked up slightly, bore a man’s frame instead of a youth’s, and his eyes glittered like hardened chips of ice.
Gone was the thin, gentlemanly veneer he’d used to woo a star-struck young girl experiencing the first throes of romance. In its place stood a man used to getting what he wanted with little or no resistance; a man stimulated and aroused by feminine defiance. She recognized these traits after living in the company of men for those same five years. Recognized, but could not articulate a properly scathing response.
Like a predatory shark, he moved in, grabbing hold of her upper arm in a tight grip and leaning forward until his mouth rested mere inches from her ear. “I remember you, Sophie. I remember every moment we were together like it was yesterday. Every touch, every sound, every movement.”
His hand began to smooth up and down her brocade-covered arm in an unsettling caress. She remained statue-still, incoherent whimpers erupting from her throat. This could not be happening. He could not be standing here, in her present life. But he was, she acknowledged through the haze of fear blanketing her, as she stared straight into his smiling visage. He stepped back a short pace.