I first met today’s guest at the Ottawa Romance Writers’ conference back in 2008 a month after I signed my very first contract with Samhain. Anne’s first book with Samhain Where Dreams Are Made was due out a month after the conference, so she gave me little tips about what to expect, along with lots of boosts of confidence. So I’m thrilled to have her on my blog today.


Anne Hope

When I tell people I’m an author, they often ask me if my books are about me. I guess the answer is yes and no. Since there are strong elements of suspense in my novels, there are quite a few things I’ve written about that I’ve thankfully never experienced. I’ve never been homeless, relentlessly pursued by a sadistic killer or physically assaulted. I’ve never had a friend brutally murdered, was named guardian of three heart-broken children or had one of my kids preyed on by an Internet stalker.

That being said, I always make it a point to include some of myself in each book I write. The more I can relate to the characters, the truer the emotions I bring out in them will be. For instance, my son and daughter greatly inspired the children in Broken Angels. I’ve lived through their tantrums, have experienced their squabbles first hand, and know exactly how it feels to have a small child run off without a word of warning. I also understand that, despite their bickering, siblings have an unwavering devotion to one another. Because of that, I was able to add depth and realism to Broken Angels.

In order to put myself in the characters shoes, I also spent a few days in Boston and Cape Cod, where the story is set. By actually experiencing the places I was writing about, I was able to add texture and flavor to the descriptions. I stood on a small beach and stared out into the ocean the same way Rebecca does in the book. I gazed at the moss-covered roofs, smelled the musty, salt-laden air, and even watched a mother osprey feed her hatchlings. For some reason, this made me feel closer to my characters and helped me to better understand them.

So, although the stories I write aren’t necessarily about me, I try to experience as much as I can about my characters in order to bring them to life. And once in a while, I’ll include a little of myself in the book—my hopes, my fears, the way I view the world, or simply a funny conversation my kids had.

In fact, one scene is practically an exact replica of an argument my children had once. Can you guess which one?

Broken Angels

Genre: Contemporary Romance, Romantic Suspense
ISBN: 978-1-60928-158-8
Length: Novel
Price: 5.50
Publication Date: August 24, 2010
Buy it through My Bookstore and More

Tragedy gave them a second chance. Now they’ve got everything to lose.

Zach Ryler always prided himself on his ability to handle anything life flung at him. Nothing could have prepared him for his sister’s brutal murder, let alone being named legal guardian of her three children. Now, the only person who can help him is the one woman he vowed never to touch again. The one woman his love couldn’t fix.

Rebecca James never stopped loving Zach, even after her infertility slowly crushed her spirit and destroyed their marriage. Suddenly Fate has dropped her dream in her lap: a family. But opening her heart to them—and to Zach—is a risk she wonders if she’s ready to take.

As Zach and Rebecca struggle to help the children deal with their grief, they slowly begin to rediscover the passion they thought they’d lost. Just as they believe that this time, they can get it right, shadows from the past close in, tearing at the fragile bonds they’ve forged. And a lethal predator is waiting and watching, one who will stop at nothing to protect his secrets…even murder.

Broken Angels

The harbor shivered, and from its depths a figure sprang. She walked toward him, bathed in starlight, her body glistening, her hair streaming wet and wild down her back.

Zach’s next breath snagged in his throat.

A siren, he thought. A mythical creature rising from the sea to seduce him.

His lungs felt crushed, deprived of air. The walls of his throat narrowed as an electrical charge pulsed across his nerve endings.

Then he realized the siren was Becca. She’d gone for an evening swim. She loved swimming at night because the water was always warmer then. Shadows played along her curves, making her hips rounder, her stomach flatter, her breasts fuller. Her hair was a deep bronze, her skin a translucent ivory in the pale light of the moon.

His body instantly responded to the sight of her, hardening, aching, until he couldn’t remember why he’d vowed to keep his hands off her. None of it seemed to matter anymore.

She grabbed a towel from the porch railing and swathed it around her figure, and it took all of his self-control to bite back the protest that scratched at his throat.

“I was wondering where you disappeared to,” he muttered instead. His voice sounded gruff.

“After I tucked Noah and Kristen in, I decided to go for a swim. You were busy with Will, and I can always use the exercise.” She lowered her body next to his, smelling of the sun and the sea. Water dripped from her hair. Rivulets trickled over her shoulders and slid down her arms.

Unable to stop himself, he captured one of the drops with the back of his index finger. It was cool against her warm skin, silky. Their gazes locked, and awareness sizzled between them.

“Did Will go to sleep okay?” Her question pierced the cloud of lust enveloping him.

“Yeah.” He let his hand fall away before he was tempted to explore more of her. “He was exhausted after all that crying.”

“Not to mention all that fun in the sun.” A hazy smile ghosted across her lips. “We had a pretty full day. The kids were really excited, weren’t they?” The tenderness on her face shook him. It was the same look Lindsay always used to get whenever she spoke of the kids.

He eyed her steadily. An image of her playing in the waves with the pack earlier today flashed through his mind. “You’re really something with them.” He couldn’t suppress the note of wonder in his voice. “I never expected it.”

She gave a self-deprecating chuckle. “Half the time—correction, most of the time—I feel like I’m in way over my head.” Bolt ambled onto the porch to sit beside her, and she stroked him absently. Zach’s gaze was drawn to the gentle rhythm of her fingers as she threaded them through the dog’s lustrous coat. He remembered how those hands had felt on his body when she’d massaged him last night, the way they’d twined in his hair and chased the tension from his limbs.

“But I understand them. Understand how they feel,” she added, oblivious to the dangerous path his thoughts were taking. “I get Noah’s anger, Kristen’s totally delusional hope, Will’s tantrums.”

Zach made a sound that was half laugh, half snort. “At least one of us does.”

“You’re being too hard on yourself as usual. You’re great with them. I can see how much they look up to you.”

“That’s because I’m tall.”

Her heartfelt laughter filled the night. God, he’d missed hearing her laugh. The sound of it made a strange energy pulsate in his pores and burrow deep within the marrow of his bones. It took all his self-control not to reach out and touch her again. Instead, he clasped his hands together and let them hang between his knees.

“Can you answer a question for me?” He stared at his joined fingers, unable to look her in the eyes for fear of what he would see there.


“When I suggested adoption, why did you refuse? I thought maybe you believed you couldn’t love a child that wasn’t biologically ours. But now that I see you with these kids I can’t help but wonder—”

“You thought I couldn’t love a child I didn’t give birth to?” She sounded offended.

He ventured a glance in her direction. Even in the dark he couldn’t miss the indignation that flamed in her cheeks.

“I didn’t know what to think,” he answered honestly. “You were so set against it.”

“Because I was angry. Because if I couldn’t have what I wanted, then I wanted nothing at all. It was the injustice of it, the unfairness. Why should I be deprived the joy of feeling my child grow inside me when it came so naturally to everyone else? Adoption felt like acceptance, like throwing in the towel.”

“Would that have been so bad?”

“At the time, yes.”

“And now?”

She hesitated. The light breeze lifted her wet curls from her shoulders, sent them rioting around her face. “It doesn’t really matter anymore,” she whispered. “The choice is no longer mine to make.” He barely heard her past the whoosh of the waves.

“That sounds oddly like acceptance.”

“Maybe it is. Even I have to give up sometime.” Her inflection held a hint of amusement, but he wasn’t buying the flippancy.

“Is that what this feels like to you, giving up?”

She was quiet for a long time. The waxing moon haloed her head and made her eyes sparkle like liquid gold.

“No,” she answered with more conviction than he’d expected. “It feels like family.”

Vulnerability sparkled in her eyes, more potent than her glistening skin, her clingy swimsuit, the small towel wrapped around her breasts and hips. Zach lost the battle and extended his hand to cup her face. Her skin was soft, an odd blend of velvet and satin. It tickled his palm as a strange current traveled up his arm and thrummed along his flesh.

He never should have allowed himself to touch her. Now the need to kiss her blinded him. It was a physical ache, sharp and insistent. She turned her cheek into his palm, moved closer…

Want to buy Broken Angels? You can find it here at My Bookstore and More.

Want to know more about Anne?

You can find out more about Anne and her books at her website: www.annehope.com or friend her over on Facebook or her Facebook fan page:  You can follow her on Twitter or MySpace, or join her Yahoo group to receive her newsletter.

So tell me if you’ve ever read a book where you’ve wondered if a scene or a snippet of a scene might have been drawn from the author’s life — I’m giving away a copy of Anne’s Broken Angels to a commenter. (the contest will close next Monday night — August  30th at 9 p.m. Eastern time)

Having Hope…Anne Hope that is
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9 thoughts on “Having Hope…Anne Hope that is

  • August 25, 2010 at 3:53 am

    Lovely excerpt and lovely getting to know you.

    Um…..yes, sometimes I do wonder how much of a story is from the author's real life. I often wonder if the love scenes come from real life….hehe!!!

    in Germany

  • August 25, 2010 at 4:45 am

    Lovely excerpt – Broken Angels sounds like a very interesting story.
    There is this scene in Susan E. Phillips' book called Dream a Little Dream when the main male character struggles with the memory of his lost child while trying to accept his girlfriend’s child as his family. I always wondered how she wrote this intense emotional scene, from her experience or from someone else’s life story.

  • August 25, 2010 at 10:52 am

    I have wonder in a few books if some scenes have come from the authors life/experiences.Some love scenes 🙂
    But I've also read in a lot of interviews, authors don't like to add real life experiences in their books.
    Great excerpt and love the cover.

  • August 25, 2010 at 3:21 pm

    Hi Anne & Leah
    Sorry I'm late but I wanted to finish Broken Angels first. It's FABULOUS!

    Anne, I didn't think you could ever match the specialness of Where Dreams Are Made but you did. Awesome suspense, beautiful prose like page 187 "leaving her with nothing but the wind to embrace her". So many wonderful lines.
    I love the metaphor of the Broken Angels and the grieving children.

    Leah I miss you. Got to meet for lunch again when you're not so busy. Anne, you come to Toronto & we'll meet you.


  • August 25, 2010 at 3:26 pm

    BTW don't enter me.

    I'm guessing the fight over the stuffed toy is from your kids.

  • August 25, 2010 at 3:39 pm

    Broken Angels sounds like an awesome read!
    I am so immersed in a book when I read I don't stop to wonder if the scene was drawn from the author's life.

    kissinoak at verizon dot net

  • August 25, 2010 at 4:12 pm

    Hi Mary,

    I'm glad you enjoyed Broken Angels as much as you did Where Dreams Are Made! What a joy it's been to hear from you.

    The scene I was referring to is the one in the car, where Kristen keeps saying she's got wak in her ear. My daughter did the exact same thing, and my son happily turned around and whacked her on the head to teach her the true meaning of the word! Though, I must say, there have been plenty of fights over stuffed animals.

    If I'm ever in Toronto, I would love to meet up with you and Leah. I was planning on having a signing there. I just haven't gotten around to booking anything yet. I'll let you know if I do.

    Bye for now,


  • August 25, 2010 at 4:15 pm

    Thank you all for your wonderful comments. It's been great to hear your thoughts.

    And thank you, Leah, for having me over as a guest today.

Comments are closed.