28 July 2019

Blast from the Past...Spotlighting Beth D. Carter's "Recover Me"

Evie Duncan’s dreams are slowly taking over her life. Every night she falls in love with the man invading her subconscious, playing out scenes from a past life.  It becomes harder and harder to wake and leave her dream man behind.

Bishop Kain has devoted his life to protecting crime boss Sherman Groto, but when he spots Evie at an underground fight, all he can think about is her.  He tries to keep his distance, but like a moth to a flame, she’s a siren he can’t resist.

Danger is coming for Evie and her salvation lies somewhere in the truth of her past life.  If Bishop can save her, he may be the one man who can bring her into the light…and for once, she might be willing to stay there.

Q & A 

1.       Did you plot this book out or write wherever an idea took you?

I had this idea of a past life story for a long a long time, inspired by the song “Recovery” by Olivia Newton John. It’s about mental health, but one line of the song is “Cause lover, you won’t recover me” and that was really the driving force of my plot. But it wasn’t until I visited the Mizpah Mine in Tonopah, NV and heard the story of Jim Butler that the story really came together.

      2.   What was your hardest scene to write in this book?

The heroine, Evie, is addicted to sleeping pills, so the hardest part of this book was making sure I struck the right description of that addiction.

           3. Do you believe a book cover plays an important role in the selling process?

Absolutely. And I was so happy with this cover. I am very aware of how the cover sells what’s between the pages, so I didn’t want some cover to show a half-naked girl because that wasn’t who Evie was. Luckily, the cover artist heard my concerns and gave me the face of a woman who had Evie’s story shining in her eyes.
          4. Any advice you would like to give to your younger self?

To never give up, even when sales are dismissal. Writing is more about the author, the stories in your head that need to be told…although getting a paycheck every three months is nice as well. 😊


At that moment, the first bell dinged, alerting the spectators that the Iron Fist match would start in about ten minutes.  Excitement buzzed through the crowd, as if charged with electricity. This wasn’t the organized shit seen on television.  These fights were down and dirty and people bet huge amounts of money on them because anything went.  The referee only stopped the fight when the downed fighter’s sponsor wished to keep him alive.  Usually, though, two men entered and one man dominated, and if the unlucky prick who lost happened to die of a consequence then so be it.  The prize money drew in contestants looking to make a name for themselves and only the best survived.  Watching the carnage was interesting, entertaining, and the brutality called to some latent warrior inside him.  Once upon a time he’d made a name for himself in the ring, but now he made more money protecting Sherman Groto.  It didn’t stop him from wanting to get back inside the cage and bust some heads as the testosterone took him into a blood-fueled high, but he’d always been a practical man.

Yet none of it registered this time as he looked back at the girl once more.  She managed to fell him with one wide-eyed glance from her big dark eyes.  The lights dimmed and suddenly he couldn’t see her.  She’d faded instantly and panic surged through him.  His hands closed into fists and every instinct in his body urged him to go find her, protect her. Only his training to stay near Groto held him back.

“Bring her to me,” the boss ordered.

Bishop stiffened in surprise as suspicion streaked through his gut.  The only time Groto ever wanted a girl was when he wanted to fuck her, and Bishop wasn’t sure he could stand by and let that happen. Not this time with that particular girl. He didn’t know her, and yet, his protective instinct surged immediately.

“Did you hear me, Mr. Kain?” Groto demanded.  “Bring her to me.”

Bishop nodded and had one of the other bodyguards, Santiago, take up his position as he left the private box.  Never once, in all the years he’d worked for Groto, had he ever questioned the boss’s decisions.  Bishop had long ago lain to rest his consciousness and morals, but now, with one command, he was ready to defy the one man who’d given him a purpose in life. 

His big body parted the crowd effortlessly.  His gaze darted around as he headed for the place the girl had last been, and as he reached the back wall, he saw her.  Some man had cornered her, terror evident on her face by the wide eyes and frenetic shaking of her head.  Black rage immediately consumed him, and all he thought about was wrapping his hands around the man’s throat to choke the life out of him. 

With a snarl of rage, he grabbed hold of the man, spun him, and punched him so hard Bishop felt the bones of his nose crunch under his fist.  Blood spurted out as the man dropped like a stone but he didn’t even bother looking at the unconscious man.  Instead, he clamped a hand around the girl’s arm and dragged her away.

She went willingly, even meekly.  As he strode through the crowd, her small hand slid into his and the gesture shocked him so much he came to a halt.  Several people grumbled as they had to maneuver around them, but he didn’t give a shit.  Tingles danced across every nerve ending in his hand where she touched him as his world narrowed down to this one tiny girl, holding on to him and staring at him like she’d seen a ghost. 

“Who are you?” he asked.

She didn’t answer.  Instead she reached up with her free hand and her fingertips lightly traced over his cheek.  Fire shot through him from the innocent, delicate exploration and he couldn’t help himself from backing her up until she hit the wall.  It was much the same position he’d rescued her from not more than a few minutes earlier, but this time her body language was completely different.  Her lips parted, her nipples beaded, and she arched her back toward him.  Bishop fitted himself against her, sliding his thigh between her legs to hold her firmly against his body.  Every bit of him thrummed to life and he’d never ached so desperately to possess a woman.  He wanted to sink his hard cock into her womanly depths and ride her she screamed his name.  The arena, the fight, his job…all of it faded as he stared into her dark, fathomless eyes. 

He let go of her arm to sink his fingers into her hair.  He tilted her face up to his so he could study her face in an effort to determine why she felt so familiar.





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