Jerri: My youngest of four was three and I needed an outlet to keep my sanity so I picked up a pen and paper and started to write a romance. I was a voracious reader of the genre and I thought, heck, maybe I could write one. I have a hard time looking at that book now--ten-plus years later. It's awful but I've improved a lot since then.
How did you become an author?
Jerri: It was at the beginning of the e-publishing boom. I wish I could say it was a good experience. It wasn't.
What was your first published piece?
Jerri: The book was titled Her Man Flint. I'm thinking about self-publishing the story in the future.
Where was it published?
Jerri: The now defunct Triskelion.
How long ago?
Jerri: 6 or 7 years ago
What did you do before embarking on your writing career? Was it an asset to your writing? How?
Jerri: What I am now, a wife and mother. I'd have to say it's an asset since I was at home and able to write.
What inspires you?
Jerri: TV, newspapers, and the people I encounter.
Please share one of your successful marketing techniques
Jerri: I really don't think I'm very good at marketing myself or my books. I'd rather be writing.
Jerri: I just want to thank you for having me here today.
(Thank you, Jerri. I really appreciate and enjoyed your visit.)
Galen Hall wakes in a Ecuadorian jail with a murderous headache, a murder charge, and a memory gap where his alibi should be. How does the jungle guide prove his innocence? His best friend comes to help, only to bring with him the woman whose unplanned love sent him fleeing the Amazon to begin with.
One night of steamy jungle passion has botanist Dana Rutherford carrying a stranger's baby. While coming to terms with raising a child on her own, she learns of the father's captivity. In a town where corruption reigns, she unknowingly initiates a jailbreak, and finds herself again face-to-face with the hunky, green-eyed devil who has changed her life forever.
"God no," Dana Rutherford said in utter shock when a light plus sign formed on the stick between her thumb and forefinger.
She snatched the test box off the sink and reread the instructions. The results had to be a false positive. After all, what were the odds of getting pregnant after having sex once?
The mark on the indicator grew clearer and tears filled Dana's eyes, her throat closing off to the point she could hardly breathe.
She stared in the mirror, aghast at her reflection. Once vibrant, mocha-colored hair now hung limply about her shoulders.
She leaned in closer to get a better look at herself and noticed the prominent dark circles under her eyes, giving the impression her eyeliner had run. Too bad she wasn't wearing any.
How was she going to tell her brother about her condition? He'd never forgive her. This could ruin the Rutherford name and reputation, which meant everything to him. So much so that it had driven her away from California's Silicon Valley to teach here in St. Louis.
Dana placed the stick and box on the sink, and with shaky fingers, shoved a loose lock of hair behind her ear.
In despair her attention dropped to her stomach. The toned abs she'd worked so hard to achieve wouldn't be firm for long.
She struggled to take a breath. A baby was coming whether she liked it or not--created with a man who didn't care one iota about her, had actually been angry to find she'd been a virgin when they'd made love.
The event replayed over in her head--his look of disbelief, eyes reflecting his outrage at discovering the blood--as if she had used her innocence to trap him in some way.
She slapped her hands over her eyes. This turn in her life couldn't have come at a worse time. She had no one to talk to, not with her friend Mattie hundreds of miles away in another country, and telling her brother Robert was completely out of the question. She wouldn't tell him until she was ready.
Dana made her way to the bedroom and dropped onto the bed. Galen Hall could be anywhere in the world and was likely impregnating another woman as she sat here. That image alone sent her stomach pitching like a fifty-foot schooner in a white squall.
Why hadn't she listened to Mattie when she'd told her to stay away from him? Like she didn't know the answer to that. The danger he'd represented had been too tempting. She'd been drawn to his seen-it-all-and-then-some emerald eyes; he was so much more knowledgeable than she. But the minute he'd touched her, entered her heated core, he'd changed her forever. Also, it hadn't helped that they'd survived an ambush in the jungle and she'd been nursing Galen, who had gotten shot. What did they call that? The Nightingale syndrome?
Now look at her. Her life had been turned into something Lifetime Television would make a movie out of. Virgin Botanist meets Jungle Guide in the Peruvian Amazon and unprotected sex ensues. Hell, that was too out there for even them.
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