Welcome Guest blogger Rachel Cron

Welcome to my guest, Rachel Cron.

Let's get to know her better and check out a sneak peek of her book "Warrior's Home: Warriors 2."

1-How long have you been writing?

 My entire life. Poems, songs, stories...I have some english teachers in my family and reading and writing were a huge part of my childhood.

2-What is your favorite genre to write?

 I love writing romance M/F. I find it challenging to attempt to make the reader feel what the characters feel for each other.

3-What are you working on now? 

Right now I'm finishing up 3 and 4 in my Warrior series and I'm starting a new darker series that will place me way out of my comfort zone. Sorry no spoilers, but I hope the readers love it.

4-When you start a new story do you begin with a character or plot? 

I start with a mixture of both. My stories just pop in like a neighbor borrowing something. They come to me and then refuse to go away. Sometimes I know which characters I'm writing about next and the plot will form around them, sometimes the plot comes to me first and I create the people who fit into that world. Other times I get a picture of a character in my head and they do something and then my imagination just takes and runs wild.

5- Tell us about your latest/upcoming release. What inspired it?

 My latest release 'Warrior's Home' is the follow up to Punk Rox Warrior. I have a tendancy to touch on very personal issues with my books, and this one does not disapoint. I have known drug addict throughout my life. Friends and family both have been afflicted by drugs, homelessness and abuse. Riley and Abigail were the perfect characters to shine a spotlight on these issues. Writing the book itself was healing for me. It helps me get it all out of my system and I can view my relationships with people with different eyes and it can, maybe, move forward.

Blurb:

Abigail Banks was born to homeless, drug-addicted parents and has spent her life taking care of them on the streets of New York City—that was until fate stepped in and gave her an opportunity to flee the hell that is her life. She took it.
Riley Davis expected to catch a buck, not a girl running from her nightmarish past and a drug dealer who will stop at nothing to get her back.

Abigail keeps a closely guarded secret and knowledge that anyone will use her if they find out the truth.

As Riley attempts to break down the carefully constructed wall Abby had put around herself, the passion that flares between them may be the downfall of them both.
Riley has no idea of what the future holds…but he can't wait to find out.

Excerpt:

She stilled, frozen with shock and fear. She looked around frantically, realizing she was the last girl standing. She relaxed marginally. Throwing down the gun, she sat on the ground trying desperately to fight the tears that she could feel welling up in her eyes. “This is no time for hysterics,” she hissed to herself.

Calming herself with some deep breaths, she cleared her mind. Her brain clamored for a plan. She knew what had to be done. It was just getting her legs to work that seemed to be the problem. She blew out a harsh breath and rose to her feet.

Her body moved mechanically. She searched each body carefully, stripping them of cash and assorted items she thought might be useful in the future. Some of Derek’s men she had known. It was slightly satisfying to see their corpses lying motionless in the dirt. She thought idly of how she had prayed for just this sight more than once. They were ruthless. Their philosophy was blood in, blood out. They knew the second they were patched into the club that only death would separate them from the gang. Well, they got their blood.

Abigail stripped a jacket off one of the detectives and slipped it on. It was getting cold, maybe even getting ready to snow. There was nothing worse than getting stuck out in the snow with no shelter to protect you. She had seen more than one person freeze to death from wind-chill alone.

The ribbon around her heart was tightening. She may have grown up on the streets, but she had compassion. It saddened her to see the officer’s dead. She thought of the families they may have left behind and the children they may never see grow up. She bent down to the last detective, the skinny one, and after emptying his pockets, she whispered, “I’m sorry. Thank you.”

Tucking the money and two pistols into her jeans, she bolted into the forest, running as fast as she could. She knew walking on the road was out. Someone would come looking for either the detectives or Derek’s men, and she had better not be anywhere near there when they did. All she hoped was that she could make it to a shelter of some sort before it got dark.

She ran until the cramping in her gut was so overwhelming she had no choice but to stop. The pain was almost crippling. She braced herself against a tree with the palm of her hand, bent down, and threw up the remainder of the sandwich from that morning. Standing up straight, she stretched her gaze towards the sky, instantly feeling better.

Damn! I wish I had wilderness skills. Her only experiences with the woods were the ones in Central Park. Not real helpful out here.                      

The sound of a gunshot wrenched her out of her thoughts and set her heart racing with panic. She froze for a split second and heard rustling in the distance. Someone’s coming. She ducked behind the tree. Pulling one of the guns from her jeans, she cocked it and poised herself, ready to shoot. She waited as the noise got louder.

Bio:

My name is Rachel Cron. I have lived in Fort Myers, Florida for over 30 years. You can find me driving around my town trying not to get a ticket for my loud car radio or at the local bookstores. I’m happily married to the man of my dreams and the mother of two amazing daughters. I’m also the grandmother of two very rambunctious boys. Growing up around English teachers and musicians, books and music have been a constant in my life. They have help shape me into the person I am today. My inspiration for my books stem from my life, the people I’ve met, the things I’ve done or the things I have weathered through. Pair that with an overactive imagination and…here we are. I’m a firm believer in family and laughter. Why are we here if we’re not enjoying ourselves?

Buy link: http://www.bookstrand.com/rachel-cron

FB: http://www.facebook.com/rachel.cron1

Blog: http://rachelcronauthor.blogspot.com/

Email: rachelcron@rocketmail.com

Suddenly, a large black shadow flashed on the ground, too quick for her brain to process. Abigail fired off two rounds and fled in the opposite direction.

Racing through the woods, the only sound was the thud of whatever she shot as it hit the forest floor and the wind in her ears. Seconds passed and she heard a voice.

“Hey, stop!” he yelled at her and then she heard him running after her.

Blind panic and adrenaline flooded her system. She picked up speed and didn’t dare look back. I’m not going to die! Fuck no, not today, thank you kindly.

She never saw the ledge, until it was too late. Abigail came, or at least tried to come, to a complete stop on the edge of a small cliff. Teetering, she desperately fought to keep her balance and not fall over the edge. It wasn’t a long drop, maybe ten feet, but there were sharp rocks and a river below. Her foot slipped on the sod and she lost her fight.