Why do you write?
I’ve always written. My first attempt was at about ten; a heart-rending tale of orphans, lost love and hardship … and pirates, it just wouldn’t be a good tale without them.
What’s your favorite genre? Do you have a favorite author (if so, please tell us the name)?
I don’t have a favorite genre. I jump from one to the other. I generally read out of the genre I am writing in at that time. I write both medieval and contemporary, so I tend to chop and change a bit. And so many favorite authors. If I had to pick one favorite, and I feel disloyal just doing this, it would be Susan Elizabeth Phillips.
To be successful as an author, what do you see as the main goal?
To have people buy and enjoy the tales I tell. When my editor at Kensington first sent me the edits for my contemporary, Nobody’s Angel (releasing in May 2015), I could see by what she’d written that she really got my book. It is the most incredible feeling to see what you’ve written take on meaning for your readers.
What inspires you and how do you channel it when you need inspiration?
I never stop doing what I do. I am always seeing scenarios, inventing histories and building castles in the air. A fellow author, Leslie Hachtel, once sent me a tee shirt that pretty much sums it up. I reads: “Be Careful or I’ll Put You in my Next Novel”.
What advice can you give to aspiring authors?
I’ve received all sorts of advice, some of it good, some of it ‘meh’ and some I just chose to ignore. But the best of it is always Keep Writing. Don’t give up and keep honing your craft.
What advice would you give to the youth of today (not just authors)?
The same advice I would give just about anyone: Find your truth and live it.
What’s on your bucket list?
Hmm, now I have to really think. More travelling, definitely. I’ve lived in all sorts of places and I am constantly amazed by how everywhere seems to be unique – for both the good and the bad.
I tend to live each day as it comes and try and make it one to remember (a lot easier said than done in the mundane of every day.)
Tell us about your book:
Releasing today is my debut novel, The Bride Gift. It’s a medieval romance set in England, 1153. When I started writing this story, I had an image fixed in my mind of a man climbing the side of a castle. I built the rest of it from there.
Here’s the blurb:
It’s 1153 in the period dubbed ‘The Anarchy’, King Stephen and Empress Maud are not the only ones embroiled in a fierce battle of the sexes.
Determined to control her own destiny, willful Helena of Lystanwold has chosen just the husband to suit her purposes. But, when her banished guardian uncle attempts to secure her future and climbs through her bedroom window with a new husband by a proxy marriage, she understandably balks. Notorious warrior Guy of Helston is everything Helena swore she would never marry; a man who lives by the sword, like the man who murdered her sister.
This marriage finally brings Guy close to his lifetime dream of gaining lands and a title. He is not about to let his feisty bride stand in his way. A master strategist, Guy sets out to woo and conquer his lady.
Against a backdrop of vengeance, war and betrayal, Guy and Helena must learn to forge a united front or risk losing everything.
What would you like readers to know about you?
I am always delighted to hear from them. I can be reached at any and all of the following places:
Here’s a small taste of The Bride Gift
Slowly, Helena turned and approached her husband.
His large body barely fit in the wooden tub. He sat with his knees almost to his ears. A slight frown creased his dark brows.
Helena dipped her hand in the soft soap they kept for bathing; more jasmine. She rubbed it between her fingers to create lather. When they next made soap she would need to produce something less feminine for Guy.
From this position, his head was almost on a level with her breasts. A feeling akin to excitement fluttered through her belly.
He watched her face as she leaned forward to soap his head, working it through his cropped hair. The bristly ends tickled her palm.
She reached for a bucket of rinsing water. He closed his eyes as soap and bubbles streamed down the strong planes of his cheeks. Droplets clung to his lashes. They were almost ridiculously long and so incongruous with the rest of him. Probably the only part of him that could be called soft.
He dropped his head forward onto his knees so she could finish rinsing.
Guy presented the broad expanse of his back, and she laid her hands across the sun-darkened skin. He was warm under her fingers and beneath the smooth skin, his muscles bunched slightly as she spread the soap. This might be bearable. When she rubbed her fingers on either side of his spine, he made a soft purr of enjoyment.
Her pulse jumped.
“Soft hands,” he said.
Her fingers traced a long, puckered scar running beneath his shoulder blade and disappearing around his side.
“A lance man with poor aim,” he murmured.
The skin on his back was firm, but marked by the scars of a lifetime spent wielding a sword. “It appears you really do fight,” she commented lightly.
For some reason those accumulated injuries and the pain they had caused angered her as well as rendered her sorry for his suffering. Helena steeled her resolve. It was just these sorts of wounds that made him perfect for her purpose.
She lathered soap across his shoulders and down the thick, corded muscle of each arm. Her belly reacted with another odd little quiver as her fingers slid across his skin like oil poured from a vial.
Guy raised his eyes to her face. A slumberous warmth made them glow nearly silver.
Her breath quickened in her chest as if she had been running; her hands tingled where they touched him.
Buy it now on Amazon here:
Who I am:
Born British and raised in South Africa, Sarah Hegger suffers from an incurable case of wanderlust. Her match? A hot Canadian engineer, whose marriage proposal she accepted six short weeks after they first met. Together they’ve made homes in seven different cities across three different continents (and back again once or twice). If only it made her multilingual, but the best she can manage is idiosyncratic English, fluent Afrikaans, conversant Russian, pigeon Portuguese, even worse Zulu and enough French to get herself into trouble.
Mimicking her globe trotting adventures, Sarah’s career path began as a gainfully employed actress, drifted into public relations, settled a moment in advertising, and eventually took root in the fertile soil of her first love, writing. She also moonlights as a wife and mother.
She currently lives in Draper, Utah with her teenage daughters, two Golden Retrievers and aforementioned husband. Part footloose buccaneer, part quixotic observer of life, Sarah’s restless heart is most content when reading or writing books.