Descriptions for heat levels in book list

------holding hands, perhaps a gentle kiss
♥♥ ---- more kisses but no tongue-- no foreplay
♥♥♥ ---kissing, tongue, caressing, foreplay & pillow talk
♥♥♥♥ --all of above, full sexual experience including climax
♥♥♥♥♥ -all of above including coarser language and sex more frequent

Monday, November 18, 2013

Author Lyn Horner

Author Bio:

Lyn Horner resides in Fort Worth, Texas with her husband and several very spoiled cats. Trained in the visual arts, Lyn worked as a fashion illustrator and art instructor. After quitting work to raise her children, she took up writing as a creative outlet. This hobby grew into a love of research and the crafting of passionate love stories based on that research.

The author says, "Writing a book is much like putting together a really big jigsaw puzzle. It requires endless patience and stubborn determination to see your ideas come to life, and once hooked on the process, you're forever addicted."

Who inspired you to become a writer?

First of all, thank you, Rain, for inviting me to your lovely blog. I’m delighted to be here.

Who inspired me to write? It was a group of ground breaking romance authors, women such as Rosemary Rogers, Kathleen Woodiwiss and LaVyrle Spenser. I fell in love with their stories and when I quit work to raise my children I decided to try my hand at writing books in the same vein as theirs.

You mostly seem to write paranormal type historical romances. Have you had experiences in your life that led you to these stories?

Yes, I experienced prophetic dreams when I was younger that led me to give the heroine of my first book, Darlin’ Irish, the gift of second sight. For instance, she has a vision of the Great Chicago Fire of 1871 several weeks before it occurred. From that beginning, I decided to give her brother and sister other psychic gifts.

In that vein, do you believe in reincarnation, ghosts, mystical experiences in reality?

Again, I have to say yes. I was influenced by books about reincarnation in my youth, and for me it just makes sense. I think our creator gives us repeated chances to learn from past mistakes until we “get it right.” As I said above, I believe in psychic gifts because of my own experiences. Additionally, I’m fascinated by myths from ancient times about legendary races such as the Celts and their Druid mystics.

When it comes to ghosts, I’m on the fence. I’ve never met a spirit from beyond the veil, but I have heard enough credible stories to at least concede ghosts may be real.

What do you think in your life has most led you to write the kinds of books you do?

Well, there were those early romances I read as a young adult, but long before that I was greatly influenced by my dad. Coming from Texas, he loved western movies, TV series and novels. I watched many an old western with him as a kid and, instead of the usual “girl’s” books, I devoured novels by Zane Grey, Louis L’Amour and other great western authors.

This long-standing interest in the Old West, plus my belief in extrasensory talents and my love of historical romances, led me to combine the three things in my writing.

Do you ever get depressed about the marketing end of writing?

I sure do. Juggling writing time with marketing demands is not easy, and all too often a day passes without me writing a word in my current WIP (work in progress). I envy authors who have help from family members or who can afford to hire an assistant to handle promotional commitments. Like many writers, I’m basically a hermit. I love alone time when I can draw out the stories in my imagination. Not writing is what really depresses me.

When you have time to read for pleasure, what kinds of books most attract you?

My favorites are still historical romances, not only westerns, but stories set in other periods and locations. I also read an occasional mystery or police procedural. However, most of my reading time is spent on research, either on the internet or with my nose in a history book. Most recently I’ve been studying Ireland and the workings of motorcycles for my new series, which is a total break from my western romances. This one is contemporary with, as you might expect, a dose of paranormal.

From where do you find your inspiration for heroes and heroines?

That varies quite a bit. Jessie Devlin, the heroine of my first book, was inspired by reading about the Irish immigrants who settled in Chicago during the 1800s. She’s a stereotypical Irish colleen with fiery hair and a temper to match. (I’ve been criticized for that, but she’s still my favorite female character.)

Jessie’s hero, David Taylor, grew out of all the bigger than life cowboy figures I idolized in movies. (Think John Wayne and Clint Eastwood.) The ensuing books in my Texas Devlins trilogy feature heroes and heroines who were secondary characters in the preceding book(s). I enjoy showing how these people evolve from Darlin' Irish.

With that in mind, I’d like to tell you about Rose Devlin and Choctaw Jack, the stars of Dearest Irish,
Texas Devlins, book three.

Rose Devlin, like her older siblings, possesses psychic talent inherited from a hidden line of Irish Celtic Druids stretching far back in time. Rose is blessed with the extraordinary ability to heal with her mind, a secret gift which has caused her great pain in the past. She also keeps another terrible secret that may prevent her from ever finding love.

Choctaw Jack, a half-breed cowboy introduced in Dashing Irish, book two of the trilogy, straddles two worlds, dividing his loyalties between his mother’s people and the family of a friend who died in the Civil War. Like Rose, he keeps shocking secrets. If they ever come to light, he stands to lose his job, possibly his life. Yet, after his chance discovery of Rose’s unique gift, he risks everything, kidnapping her from her brother’s Texas ranch in the belief she can save his dying mother.


Rose Devlin stood outside the corral fence, tensely watching her brother Tye struggle to stay on the brown stallion he was attempting to subdue. Horse breaking, he called it, but man breaking seemed a better description. With head down, the infuriated animal kicked out both hind legs, raising his rump high in the air. Somehow, Tye hung on, but when the stallion performed a wild twisting movement, he succeeded in throwing his rider. Rose cried out in alarm, but to her amazement, her brother hit the ground rolling to avoid the horse’s hooves and rose nimbly to his feet.
Brushing himself off, he cornered the horse with help from a ranch hand named Micah Johnson, an older cowboy who mainly worked around the homestead. Mr. Johnson had lost the use of his left arm in the War Between the States, but he deftly threw his lasso over the horse’s head with his good right arm. While he controlled the animal, Tye climbed back into the saddle.
Rose clutched the small gold cross suspended on a delicate chain at her throat and whispered a prayer as the battle between man and beast resumed. She gave a start when a man walked up beside her. Going rigid, she stared at him as he folded his arms along the top rail of the fence. She’d never laid eyes on him before. If she had, there’d be no forgetting him. Almost a head taller than her, with copper colored skin and long black hair, he wore a wide-brimmed black hat with a black-tipped white feather jutting from the leather hatband.
“Howdy, Miss Devlin,” he said, casually glancing at her.
“Ye . . . ye know who I am, sir?” she asked, wondering who he was and where he’d come from. She thought she’d met all the Double C hands over the past three months.
He turned his head and studied her with eyes as dark as night. “Everybody on the place knows you’re Tye Devlin’s little sister.”
Embarrassed by his close inspection, she looked away, but her curiosity got the better of her. “Who are ye?” she blurted. Then, instantly regretting her bluntness, she stammered, “I-I mean I’ve never seen ye before. Are ye new here?” Darting a sidelong glance at him, she was relieved to see him watching Tye and the bucking, snorting horse instead of her.
“Depends how you look at it,” he replied. “I just rode in yesterday. That’s why we haven’t crossed paths before. I return about this time every year to help out with the roundup and the drive north.”
“Oh, I see.” Rose knew he referred to the yearly cattle drive to Kansas. She’d listened to Tye and his in-laws discuss plans for this year’s drive several times. Herding thousands of cattle over such a long distance sounded like a daunting task to her.
“I heard you fixed your brother’s eyes,” the stranger remarked. “How’d you do it?”
Rose licked her lips and clasped her cross again, seeking an answer that wouldn’t require mentioning her unusual ability. Before she could find words, the horse Tye was on emitted an enraged shriek and ran straight at the fence where Rose and her companion were standing.
“Look out!” Tye shouted.
       Frozen in terror, Rose stared at the charging animal. She gasped when two arms closed around her from behind and whirled her aside just as the crazed horse reared and slammed his front hooves down on the top rail of the fence. The wood split with a loud crack, accompanied by a pain-filled neigh from the horse. A hiss of pain also sounded from the man pressed to Rose’s back, his broad shoulders hunched around her.

Lyn Horner blog:
Amazon Central: 

Darlin' Irish

Dashing Irish
Dearest Irish
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