Fanning the Flames of Romance: January 2009

The tug of self-preservation insisting I eat the damn soup...

Taken With the Enemy is the book of my heart. What does that mean, the book of my heart?

For me, that means it's the book an author has to write even if no one wants to publish it. It's the book that an author drops everything for, including their current projects, to complete because they are feeling the story that strongly. It's the story with characters and a plot that is so much a part of the author that if they didn't put it on paper, the story would haunt them and they would never be able to move on to write something else.

In the end, it's the book that an author loves best of all their work.

Taken With the Enemy is the book of my heart.

Inspired by a dream I had, Taken With the Enemy is a contemporary spin of those old historical novels where the heroine ends up falling in love with her captor. I had locked myself in my basement to write this book, completing it in about one month, during the holidays, knowing full well that the story might never see a printing press due to its "politically incorrect" nature.

I mean, this is the 21st century; you do not fall for your kidnapper.

But is it possible that true love could form under such circumstances? Could a solid, secure, healthy relationship develop around abduction? Especially in a modern world where psychological conditions like Stockholm syndrome exist—a term often used to describe any attachment a person might feel for their abductor?

I like to believe it’s possible, at least for the characters in my story. (LOL!)

I’m a hopeless romantic. I’m an avid believer in the concepts of love at first sight, of love conquering all, and that if two people are meant to be together, true love will bloom regardless of the circumstances.

I am a romance author.

Cheers!
~Tia

* * * * *

Yanking the covers away, he grasped my arm and pulled me off the mattress. I was so shocked, I didn’t object when he dragged my ass into the dining room. He shoved me down into the chair at the head of the table.

“You will eat. Now,” he growled.

Staring at the steaming bowl of chicken noodle soup and the glass of fruit juice before me, I instinctively touched the spoon resting on the napkin, but drew my hand back. The thought of putting something in my mouth made me feel queasy. I really just wanted to go back to sleep. I was exhausted.

At the other end of the table, he angrily slid the heavy wooden chair out, marring the air with the shriek of scratching marble. I flinched, hating the sound that echoed through the room.

He sat and stared me down. “I said eat.”

“I’m not hungry,” I mumbled.

“I don’t care.”

The edge in his voice, the hard set of his jaw, and the dark gleam in his eyes cautioned me not to press the issue. But amongst the inner chaos that consumed me—including the tug of self-preservation insisting I eat the damn soup—was the overwhelming urge to rebel against his demand.

“Don’t make me tell you again,” he warned, raising a dark brow.

What was I? A wayward child? If I wasn’t hungry, I wasn’t friggin hungry.

I shook my head.

“Eat.”

It was all too much.

Frustrated, I slammed my hands down on the table’s surface. “I’m not eating this.”

“Yes, you are.”

I swept my arm across, knocking the bowl and the glass off the edge. They hit the hard floor in a shattering, splattering mess.

The gratification was short-lived.

Quick as lightening, he was out of his chair and in my face, as dangerous as the first time we met.

“I’m going to let that slide,” he growled, “because apparently, not having food for five days has made you irrational and far braver than you should be, given the circumstances.”

I glanced away.

He pounded the tabletop. “Look at me!”

Flitching, my gaze immediately jumped back to his, my heart thumping in fear.

“I am going to get you another bowl and you are going to eat,” he continued, enunciating each syllable with careful restraint. “And if you don’t, I will tie you to that chair and force feed you. Am I making myself clear?”

~Excerpt from Taken With the Enemy by Tia Fanning

* * * * *

Night Owl Romance


“I am a fan of Tia Fanning and her work. She pens wonderfully entertaining stories that don’t disappoint her readers. This story was extremely engrossing and had me wondering the entire time what was going to happen to Brenna. I will definitely add this one to my library...”

--Diana Coyle, 5/5 and a Reviewer Top Pick, Night Owl Romance

A New Year and A Letter of Thanks...

I’ve always been a writer. Like my love of reading books, the passion I have for writing stories is something that has been in my blood since I was a child. In school, I was one of those weird students that actually got “all excited” about writing assignments.

However, I didn’t start writing seriously (and with the hopes of being published) until I was in high school. Of course, being a melodramatic teenager, I began by writing dark poetry, some of which became published in the school’s literary magazine.

I was twenty-six years old when I decided that I wanted to be a romance author. But somewhere around 44,000 words into my first novel, I realized I had no idea what I was doing. So, after much internet research, I signed up for an aspiring authors course at a Romantic Times conference.

Going to that conference was the best thing I ever did.

First, I never would have thought I could learn so much from one three-day Aspiring Author class. My fabulous teacher, Author Judi McCoy, explained all the ins and outs of getting established in the romance industry. Honest and up front, she shared the good, the bad, the ugly, and everything in-between.

(If you are an aspiring author, I highly recommend her course.)

It was also at this Romantic Times conference that I met four other amazing, beautiful women who would change my life in profound ways.

Two of these women ended up becoming my critique partners and, more importantly, my close friends. Without Author Aleka Nakis and Teanette Major staying up long nights to read and correct my work, my manuscripts might never have been accepted. The other two wonderful ladies I met at the conference would later become the dazzle behind Resplendence Publishing— founders Leigh Collett and Jessica Berry.

So let me take a moment to say… Aleka, Judi, Tea, Leigh and Jess… thank you for everything. Your insight, wisdom, patience, encouragement, and friendship have been invaluable.

Of course, I have to thank my family as well. They fueled my love of reading and writing.

Mom, you are the reason I love romance novels. I will always appreciate the time, and money, you spent supporting my “romance novel” addiction for all those years.

Dad, if you didn’t take the time to read to me when I was young, I might never have grown to love books the way I do now. Ever since high school, when it came to writing, you’ve always been my biggest fan.

And Aunt Celeste, you have always been a flowing spring of positive encouragement and love.

I love you all so much.

Also, I want to thank my husband, Warren. He was the one who taught me the true meaning of love, who supported my dream, and stuck it out with me (and our marriage) even though I ignored him for days and nights on end while I worked to complete my books.

Warren, you’re a wonderful husband. I couldn’t imagine my life without you.

Last, but not least, I want to thank the readers out there. As a writer by nature, I will always write, but it is because of you that I became an author.

Sincerely,

Tia Margaret Fanning
“Fanning the Flames of Romance”