Nina Bangs
Talk about misspent youth. What did I do during those lazy summer days of childhood when I could’ve been honing my writing skills? Nothing. Okay, so I spent a lot of time dreaming I was a cowgirl with a trusty black stallion. Oh, and I read every Walter Farley horse novel. I was an only child so I relied on my imagination to supply the excitement in my life.
By high school, I’d decided to trade in my lariat for a trench coat. I was into dark and dangerous. As an intrepid foreign correspondent, I’d stalk the mean streets of the world. Did I actually write anything? No, but I did read all of Agatha Christie’s mysteries.
I worked at a department store during college. My short stint in the accounting department taught me a lot about math. Three hundred-dollar shortages plus hysterical tears equaled instant move to gift-wrap. A career in math was not in my future. I didn’t care because I’d discovered “real” literature. I plowed through James Joyce’s Ulysses and Tolstoy’s War and Peace. If it didn’t make my eyes cross then it wasn’t worth reading. Yes, I admit it, I was a literary snob.
Nina and best buddy, Barbara Joyce.
Folk singers extraordinaire.
But there’s just so much “real” literature one person can take. I graduated from Rutgers University with a degree in English Literature and a determination to avoid books that induced eye crossing or had tragic endings. The only things I managed to write during those years were research papers.
I taught second grade for several years then spent two years in Dublin, Ireland. A friend and I supported ourselves by singing folk songs in Irish pubs. We weren’t great, but we were young, enthusiastic, and wore short skirts. It was obviously my destiny to be the next Judy Collins. I spent a lot of time poring through music books.
Returning to New Jersey and reality, I taught elementary school until I grew restless again. My cross-country odyssey included stays in Arizona, California, and Texas. Along the way, I indulged my love of horses. No black stallions, but I did have several beautiful Arabian mares. I read tons of books on breeding and showing.
Somewhere between California and Texas I grew addicted to romance novels and cats. The cat’s independent attitude was exactly the quality I admired in my romance heroes. And once I decided to try writing my own romances, I made sure a cat crept into each story.
Texas is my permanent home. I’ve come full circle. Born in San Antonio, I spent most of my life in New Jersey. Maybe the Texas in my blood accounts for my attachment to strong men, fast horses, and wide-open spaces. My love of cats? Haven’t a clue.
“You touch my soul, woman. You touch what I am, what I once was, and what I will be.”
“They’ve worked the absolute-power-corrupts-absolutely truth since the beginning of time. They foment destruction and chaos. It puts them in their happy place.”
“She silently chanted the rules of the civilized: Thou shalt not make love on a balcony even if it’s thirty-something stories up because someone might see you. Thou shalt not make love with a dinosaur no matter how sexy he is. Thou shalt not make love on a balcony when a werewolf is in the room, even if said werewolf is asleep. And last but not least, thou shalt not make love outside when it’s cold because goose bumps are never attractive.”
“I don't know where you get off telling everyone what to do. Did I miss the part where you were crowned top turd? I don't want to play the wicked consort of Eric the Evil. Last time I looked, there wasn't a wicked consort clause in my contract." Donna turned to Eric as he stopped by her side. "I can't believe he thinks he can harass me like he does the rest of the poor wretches who work here." She glared at Holgarth. "Why not rent a wig and you can be the wicked consort?"As one of the castle's poor wretches, Eric didn't offer anything to the conversation because he was too busy picturing Holgarth in a wig. And from there, he went on to imagine Donna in her wicked consort costume - short on cloth with lots of bare skin showing. Things were looking up.”
“Eric the Evil scowled. Well, hell. He was jealous of himself.”
“Dead pirates didn't get to spend their booty. Dead pirates didn't get to shake their booty, either. Bummer.”
“She was trapped with a telepathic cat that wanted to go to the opera, in an elevator that had passed dungeon in favor of a lower floor - hell.”
“Admirable." Translation: Slut. "I'm confident you could have ripped the vampire's heart out with no help from Sir Conall. You would never need a hero to rescue you." Translation: Amazon.”
“She understood the meaning of the "Dark Ages" now. Because with all the drinking to celebrate rescues of fair maidens and slayings of dragons, vampires, and other scary whatevers, the local folk must've spent most of their time facedown on the great hall floor.”
“We're triplets. We do EVERYTHING together”
“She felt the glide of his hair as he lowered his head to study the zipper on her skirt. Herimagination supplied other places his hair could touch, and she drew in her breath.He carefully pulled down the zipper, then pulled it back up. After several up and downforays, Kathy grew impatient:"Hello? Have I lost you to a zipper?" Darn. She must sound like every greedy womanwho'd ever lain with him.His soft chuckle reassured her. " 'Tis a long night, lass, and the waiting willna hurt ye.These metal teeth are wondrous things.”
“Colin: "1 dinna understand why we canna just go to bed and have sex." He looked truly puzzled.”
“Ally turnedher attention back to Brian Byrne. "So what do you do for a living when you're not searching outyour roots?""Have sex with thousands of women." He slanted her a grin that would've knocked her offher feet if she wasn't already laid out flat by his comment. "Professionally, of course.""Well, that makes it okay then." A porn star? Her instinct said no. But her instinct had alsothought Dave was a great guy when she first met him. How wrong was that? Hmm. What elsecould Brian be? How about crazy? Sounded logical to her. She was alone with a crazy man. Asexy crazy man, but crazy was still crazy.”
“I still don't know why we didn't hire a carto get around Ireland.""When I was a kid, I always dreamed about living in Ireland. I used to pretend I was one ofthe traveling people, driving my gypsy wagon from village to village. Used to picture a darkgypsy kidnapping me and having his way with me. Exciting stuff." Katy grinned at her. "Couldstill happen, you know.""Katy, we have a horse that's so laid-back I have to keep checking to see if he's dead.”
“You don't analyze love. You accept it.”
“He couldn't concentrate on anything while her incredible bottom led him up those stairs like the Pied Piper of tempting asses.”
“The princess of perverted plants and the demented vampire have come to join us! How absolutely thrilling!”