Thank you so much for having me!!
As I’ve gotten older, I’ve noticed my tastes in the kinds of romance stories/heroes/ heroines I like have changed. As an older teenager and in my early twenties, I gravitated towards historical romances featuring younger heroines that were close to my own age at the time. Now, in my early thirties and married, I tend to gravitate towards stories that feature older women and second chance romances. My current taste in stories comes out strong in my most recent release, Going After the Heart, which focuses on a struggling marriage where my heroine,
Lizzy, fights to save it.
Along with the change in the types of stories I’ve come to prefer, I’ve also found my taste in the appearance of the hero has changed. Now, don’t get me wrong, I appreciate a good hero any time. J But when I was younger, I wasn’t fond of reading about medieval heroes that had long hair and would skip over any descriptions that involved said hair. (My hair was short at the time and I viewed any guy who had hair longer than mine as unattractive, thus explaining why my husband’s clean cut Navy look appealed at the time. ;) ) Now I find myself leaning towards the opposite direction I once did.
What about you? Have your story preferences changed? What about the types of heroes and heroines you like?
About the Book:
Going After the Heart
Release Date: December 18, 2012
Heat Level: Steamy
Length: 234 pages
Amazon || B&N || Kobo || CreateSpace || Smashwords
Lizzy Bergstrum thought she finally reached a point in her life when she could honestly say she had it all. A thriving writing career. A wonderful daughter. And a marriage to the love of her life. But looks can apparently be deceiving because her husband just walked out on her and their eight year old
Gavin Bergstrum can’t handle the direction his life has taken. Not only did he get laid off from his job, but his wife seems to barely remember he exists. Convinced he’s tried his best to change things, he begins to wrestle with the possibility of divorce. But he can’t think straight in the same house as Lizzy. Hating to leave his daughter, but needing time to think and come to terms with what he feels he needs to do, Gavin decides to return to his small home town in Oregon and stay at his family ranch with his father and brothers.
In shock, Lizzy gives Gavin his space. But as time passes and he doesn’t say a word about their marriage, Lizzy decides it’s past time she takes matters into her own hands. Without a word, she follows Gavin to Oregon.
Now facing a daughter who blames her for everything, an irritated husband, and a small town that feeds on the drama, Lizzy finds herself trying to figure out how to convince Gavin to give her another chance, teach her daughter it takes two to make a successful marriage, and overcome her own insecurities – all without compromising who she is.
Warning: This title is intended for readers over the age of 18 as it contains adult sexual situations and/or adult language, and may be considered offensive to some readers.
Startled, Lizzy shot up into a sitting position. She discovered Gavin standing on the other side of the glass door. Belatedly, she recognized the relief at the fact he now stood fully clothed in jeans and a T-shirt. Yes, wouldn’t do to be thinking about sex with the man at the moment.
She glanced at the alarm clock on the nightstand behind her. Ten minutes to midnight. Pushing herself up off the bed, she made her way over to the door and opened it.
“How the heck did you get up here?” Lizzy demanded without preamble.
This master bedroom lay on the second floor and the porch through which the slider led out to was a wraparound porch without access to the lower level.
Pushing past her inside the room without waiting for an invitation, “The old oak in the back is easy to climb and has a branch hanging low to step over to the porch railing.”
Lizzy gaped at him, crossing her arms and not bothering to close the door. He would not be staying long if she had anything to do about it.
After striding into the room a couple of yards, he turned to face her. “What?”
“Using the front door never occurred to you?” She shook her head in disbelief.
Crossing his arms, his gaze narrowed. “I didn’t want Sky to know I was here.” He glanced over at the closed bedroom door. Before she realized his intention, he strode over to it and flipped the lock.
“What are you doing?” she demanded, irritation rising easily at his high handedness and her exhaustion.
He turned back to her with a determined expression. “I already said, I don’t want Sky to know I’m here.”
Rolling her eyes, a frustrated sigh slipped out. “What do you want, Gavin?” What’s so important it couldn’t wait until tomorrow?”
Crossing his arms again, he moved closer to her, she assumed so as to not risk Sky hearing their voices. “Why are you here, Lizzy? I talked to you and Sky yesterday and neither of you mentioned anything about coming here.”
Snorting, “You didn’t talk to me yesterday. You asked me to pass the phone to Sky before I even finished saying hello when I picked up the receiver. And Sky never said anything because she didn’t know anything about it until I woke her up this morning.”
“Damn it, Lizzy, I told you I’d come home after my head cleared some. You had no right to come here,”
he ground out.
“And how was I supposed to know how long that would be? It’s been three months. Three months. What the hell was I supposed to tell Sky about when her father would be coming home? You haven’t said one word to me in three months other than can I talk to Sky? I have no idea what’s going on with you, Gavin, so what choice did I really have than to come here,” she tossed back at him, the anger from the last couple of months rising in her.
Gavin’s scowl turned lethal. “Are you thinking you can come here and make everything magically better?”
At her wit’s end, Lizzy squeezed her eyes closed and pinched the bridge of her nose with her thumb and finger. It was a toss up between who got to her more, her daughter or her husband. Tired of all of it, Lizzy decided to not hold back. Not that anyone would accuse her of holding back in the last five minutes, she thought sarcastically.
“You know what, Gavin, you lost the right to know what I was thinking the minute you decided it was better to walk out the door rather than try to take two minutes to just talk to me,” she told him evenly, too tired to hide the weariness that came out in the words.
Opening her eyes, she refused to feel guilty about the satisfaction she felt in seeing she stunned him with the statement.
“Go back to your father’s house, Gavin. You’re not really interested in talking to me, only trying to blame me for ruining your solitude. If you’re really interested in finding out why I came here, come talk to me when you’ve calmed down and are actually interested in listening to what I’m saying.”
With that, she went into the bathroom on the other side of the room, calmly closing the door behind her. Gavin didn’t make any sounds in the other room, but when she came out, he was gone.
About the Author:
In between her to-be-read pile and trying to bring the characters in her head alive, Kristen spends as much time as she can with family and friends. Much to her husband’s dismay, she enjoys collecting purses, shoes, and jewelry. During those rare times she’s not working at her day job, rushing her daughters somewhere, watching movies with her husband, and trying to meet a deadline, she can usually be found energetically cheering for one of her favorite New York sports teams.
As with just about every other writer on the planet, Kristen grew up an avid reader. She started with young adult before she technically hit the age range and moved on to sci-fi classics by Isaac Asimov and
Ray Bradbury. At fifteen, her best friend gave her a book she just had to read! The book was Honest Illusions by Nora Roberts.
Always a sucker for a happy ending, she was a goner and fell in love with the romance genre. Having started writing novel length stories at the age of eleven, Kristen’s stories all took a romantic turn from that point on.
Connect with Kristen Beairsto
a Rafflecopter giveaway