Hi Sandy, welcome to the adventure. Please tell us a little about yourself
In which genre do you prefer to write?
As a child, what did you want to do when you grew up?
I never thought about writing as a career when I was younger. I wanted to by a doctor or a therapist or an actor. I wrote over the years, but didn’t make it my career until I was older.
Can you give us details about your upcoming release?
Cassie Priam is licking her wounds, following her latest romantic disaster. To hell with love, it’s fiction, and she’s done believing in myths.
A snare has been set, and Apollo stepped into it when he wagered with Hades. Gaining Cassie’s love is a herculean task. She refuses to believe he exists, despite her attraction to his chiseled perfection. He’s a dream. The kind that keeps her up at night and invades her thoughts during the day. Why can’t a man like that be real?
“Bringing back the Greek hottie like no other, every woman needs a myth like this.”
Krissee Mark, author of The Dark Muse Series.
EXCERPT FROM APOLLO’S GIFT
“I forbid it.”
“What?” She scanned down her row. All eyes were focused on Simmons. Was she hearing things? It had to be imagination combined with lack of sleep. Cassie focused on the professor and the way her ancient fingers wrapped around the top of the lectern. Nothing like John Medina’s hands. She’d noticed how he held his cup with nice capable hands, and she’d liked the look of them.
. “I have decreed, and it is so.”
The slight accent, his rich tone of voice that held a knife’s edge, and underneath an imperious command. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled. That had signaled warning since childhood, or at least, inconvenience. The last time she’d felt that tingle, she’d hiked up Mount Parnassus.
Cassie froze in her seat. Once might be imagination, but hearing voices twice could be signs of mental instability. She glanced over her shoulder. “Did you say something?” she asked the two girls seated behind her. One continued to type on her laptop while the other stared down her nose and shook her head. Still Cassie’s neck prickled. What was it? The rumble reminded her of those wicked dreams of Apollo. A rush of heat flooded her face.
“Cassandra,” the voice whispered into her right ear.
“Oh no,” she murmured. The seat beside her was empty, or should be. She stared forward, afraid of what she’d see if she turned her head.
“Look on me.”
Heart pinging, she gathered courage and turned to face the voice and her fear. Apollo, shimmering with light from his position beside her, golden mane flowing over his brawny, nude shoulders as if blown by a breeze, his eyes blue as the Adriatic, and that smile. No man should wield such a weapon. It turned her legs to mush.
She shook her head and rubbed her eyes. This couldn’t be happening. He had to be a dream or a figment of her imagination. She refused to acknowledge the Greek god. Had she fallen asleep in class? Cassie trained her attention on Simmons. I am not crazy. It’s sleep deprivation, that’s all.
“Beloved.” Apollo, clad in a loincloth, his rippling muscles open to inspection, leaned closer.
This delusion was insistent, but Cassie could be just as stubborn She stared forward. Ignore it and it will go away. It worked with stray dogs. She must have fallen asleep. That had to be the explanation. Wake up, Cassie.
Apollo caressed her jaw with the tips of his fingers. “Must I convince you of my existence each time?”
Her heart thumped and her mouth went dry. It’s not real. It’s not real. He pressed a kiss to that sensitive spot below her ear. She shivered. “Oh God,” she murmured. Heat trickled from her neck down to her belly.
ABOUT SANDY L. ROWLAND
Born and raised in Southern California, Sandy has always loved animals, nature, theatre, and learning. She attended Fullerton College and then married. After multiple moves around the western states while raising three children, they settled in Salt Lake City, Utah.
She’s worked in retail, banking, and graduated from Myotherapy College in massage therapy where she taught, before opening her own practice combined with life coaching. Sandy’s love of reading and expressing herself through words whispered, actually screamed, until she returned to writing.
Living between the twisted red rock of Southern Utah and the granite mountains of the Wasatch, Sandy explores life with her loving husband and family. She serves her local chapter of Romance Writers of America, and is an award-winning author of paranormal and fantasy romance.
Her coaching blog, A WRITER’S HEART, can be found on her website: www.sandylrowland.weebly.com