Latest Book: White Savage
Buy Link: https://museituppublishing.com/bookstore2
Larion Wills, a multi-genre author, also writes under the name of Larriane Wills. From science fiction to western romances she holds up to her tag of ‘two names, one author, thousands of stories.’
Born in Oklahoma, but raised in Arizona she feels a native to the state and has settled in the high desert country. In a quiet, rural area with a family who tolerates her writer’s single-mindedness, she presents us with a series of unique westerns while still steadily producing contemporary romances, many laced with paranormal settings, all with strong characterizations and suspenseful plots, capable of dragging you into a story in a genre you thought before you didn’t care for.
Q: What’s the first thing you did when you received word you’d sold a book?
A: Grinned a lot. Honestly, that was about all I could do besides bounce a little. I got the email about 11:00pm and everyone else in the house was asleep. I couldn’t even let out a yell without waking them. I just held the excitement inside—not sleeping of course—and hit them with it in the morning, still grinning.
Q: Who is your favorite character in your book and why?
A: I’m sure you’d expect me to say the good looking hero, but not so. In White Savage I had the most fun with a secondary character called Sam, an Indian scout. Not that Sam isn’t capable of savageness but I gave him a sense of humor to go along with his dark side.
Q: Do all your heroes and all heroines look the same in your mind as you “head write”?
A: No, no, no, each of them have their own distinctive appearance and personalities. I am currently tending towards tall, dark and handsome, but primarily because that’s what’s so popular now. Just look at a selection of book covers. Clay, in White Savage, is blond. Delilah Stevens, Museitup’s cover artist, and I gave up on finding the right look in a blond. There just aren’t that many blond models out there, especially in a format that can be used for a sweet, old west romance.
Q: Do you eat comfort food when writing? If so, what food inspires your imagination?
A: Chocolate, I even, in my mind, feed it to my heroes, or rather, the heroine does. How is dictated by whether it’s a sweet or hot story. Melted chocolate on your fingertips can grow into a pretty warm scene or comical depending on the tongue action.
Q: You’re on a remote island with a handsome man, a computer, and a “mysterious” source of electricity to power your computer. What do you do?
A: Heh? I’d probably write. I’m a little too old for much else besides dreaming and fond memories where handsome men are concerned. Lol.
Q: Facebook, MySpace, Blogs, Chats, or Twitter. Which do you like best and why?
A: Facebook, hands down. It’s the only one that doesn’t drive me nuts. Twitter and I have been having an ongoing battle for about 2 years now. They tell me the password I wrote down when I started it isn’t right, I go through all the steps to change it only to have them tell me they have nothing listed under that email addy. I only use two—tried them both—and this is after I’ve gone through the routine to make sure I’m using the correct user id. Okay, yes, I’m a little techno challenged. Blogging, however, is running a close second to a favorite. Opportunities like this to meet new people are fun.
Tell us where to find you: website(s), publisher’s page(s), blog(s), Facebook page(s), etc. List them all!
you can keep abreast of releases under both pen names,
past- http://www.swimmingkangaroo.com and future - https://museituppublishing.com/bookstore2
New friends are always welcome.
Ten years before a boy had been rescued from the Indians. He lived too long with them, all exclaimed, to ever learn to be white again. Jimmy returns, branded murderer, thief and rapist, escaping the posses and taking a woman hostage. Is the one they call Jimmy just a man mistaken for the white savage, proving there’s savage in all of us if pushed too far? Is that why the woman helped him or has she secrets to hide as well?
The dog stretched, his nails scratching on the bare wood floor as he wiggled to a more comfortable position. Clay watched him squirm, thinking it was funny how a dog would choose to lay on the hard wood when there were so many rugs scattered around. One was behind him to the right, in front of the door, one to the left, behind him, in front of the cook stove. Rugs scattered all around him, but the dog had stretched out right in the middle where there was no rug.
Right in the middle stuck in his mind, and Clay studied the room again. He couldn’t reach the pantry or front door without walking by the dog, and if he walked to the bedroom, he’d have to walk in front of him.
“Thought you wanted me to talk to you,” he said to break the silence.
She startled, jabbing herself with the needle. “You didn’t seem so inclined,” she said, trying to hide the fact that her finger was bleeding.
“I changed my mind. That dog got a name?”
“No,” she said quickly, and then changed it. “Yes. I call him Wolf for obvious reasons. I’m going to bed now.” Her basket thumped to the floor beside her chair as she set it down and stood. “There are blankets and a pillow in the chest to make a pallet.”
She pointed to a chest situated conveniently against the wall farthest from the dog.
“More than one way to kill a dog,” he said, walking over to the chest. “Safest way is to shoot him, if he’s far enough away.” He sat down on the chest, looking at her. “Unless he’s running at you. Hard to hit then. Best thing to do is let him jump you, so you can break his neck or his jaw.”
“You couldn’t,” she said in a strained whisper.
“When he jumps at you, you grab his jaw and nose. All you have to do is pry them apart. That’s the easiest way.”
“He’s mauled men badly before,” she warned.
“Because they were afraid of him. I’m not. There’s not a dog alive that a man can’t beat if he keeps his head.”
“Don’t ever set that dog on me or I will kill him,” he warned coldly.
“A man like you would never know or understand fear. You have to live it to know how desperate a person can be to never be alone.”
Even if it was someone she despised as much as she did her husband or feared as much as she did him, he thought. He said, “Having someone with you won’t make it go away. You just need someone to make you feel safe long enough to know you don’t have anything to fear.”
“Who? Henry? The man who left me with a total stranger?” she asked with an sardonic smile and scoffed. “A man who’d just as soon be rid of me? No, no one can, not even a man like you who’s never known a day of fear in his life.”
Clay watched her silently as in defeat and resignation she put the dog out of his way in the pantry and closed herself away with the bedroom door. She was wrong, of course. He did know what her kind of fear was like. If he could stay longer than the time it would take her husband to return, he might even be able to help her learn how to control if not conquer the fear. But he couldn’t stay longer than he’d given his word he would. He shouldn’t even be here. He shouldn’t have stopped. Every minute made the fear he fought to control claw stronger in his guts, just knowing they were near. Telling himself there was little chance they’d ever know he was anywhere in the area didn’t do any good. He shouldn’t have let his first look at the blond-haired, green-eyed beauty influence him into staying, no matter how afraid he thought she was.
Anything else you’d like to add?
Never idle, Larion has 3 upcoming releases for 2011 and 2012 through Muse It Up Publishing. Watch for Chase, a contemporary suspense romance, Tarbet, another historical western, and back to contemporary for Traps at https://museituppublishing.com/bookstore2
History more fascinating than fiction.
In White Savage I mention an incident involving Cochise, an Apache Indian war chief. Though the story was factious, historical facts were as accurate as I could make them. Cochise was described as a tall man (for his time) either 5’10” or 6’ depending on which account you read. He had broad shoulders and though no pictures were ever taken of him. no one argued that he had an imposing appearance. Until 1861 when he and his party were attached under a white flag, Cochise had coexisted peacefully with the encroaching white men. The following quote is his reason for going to war.
“We were once a large people covering these mountains. We lived well: we were at peace. One day my best friend was seized by an officer of the white men and treacherously killed. At last your soldiers did me a very great wrong, and I and my people went to war with them.”
His best friend was among several who were either killed or taken prisoner when accused of kidnapping a white child. The child, it was discovered later, had run away from an abusive father, but the prisoners had already been hung. The war incited by an inexperienced officer lasted for a decade with Cochise’s attacks contributing to if not causing the closing of the Butterfield Stage mail runs across the southwest. He surrendered in 1871 but refused to move to the reservation in New Mexico and escaped again.
"Nobody wants peace more than I do. Why shut me up on a reservation? We will make peace; we will keep it faithfully. But let us go around free as Americans do. Let us go wherever we please."
In 1872 he surrendered for the final time, taking his people to the reservation where he died in 1974. He was buried in secret, the location of his grave never revealed. One last quote from a fascinating man.
"You must speak straight so that your words may go as sunlight into our hearts. Speak Americans.. I will not lie to you; do not lie to me."