Author Spotlight with
Becki Brannen
Author Bio:
I was
born and raised in the South. I married my high school sweetheart and we have
two daughters and a poodle, Sophie. I enjoy writing 'chick lit' with a
Christian twist. I hope you enjoy reading my books in the Breathless series.
While Peregrine is a definite departure, I still explore the characters'
relationships with God. As for future books, there will be more to come soon!
Stronger Blurb:
Hayley Cross has decided she's not going down
without a fight. Wes Thornton was the heartthrob in high school, and is
now the trainer at the local gym. Can he help save Hayley, or is it
already too late?
Teaser:
Chapter
One
“I need you to train me,” I tell the guy
at the counter of Attack MMA, secretly hoping he doesn’t remember me from high
school. Wes Thornton was the quintessential jock in high school, and it doesn’t
look like much has changed. He could have anyone he wanted... and he didn’t
want me. I was three years younger, just a freshman when he was in his senior
year, and I was a total nerd. As a senior, I took Calculus – for fun.
Fast forward a few years later, and I’ve
walked into the gym he works at, having looked him up on Facebook a few years
ago. I was too scared to press the button to request a friendship, but I’m
standing here in front of him now, holding my head high.
Now he’s staring me down, as if he’s
trying to figure out what in the heck I’m doing here. I’m still a nerd, glasses
and all, but I’ve grown up in a lot of ways. I’ve gained a lot of
self-confidence, including the ability to talk to boys (finally!) and overall,
my life is pretty good. Well, with the exception of Johnny. But, that’s why I’m
here, I guess.
“Sure, what were you interested in? We
don’t offer Zumba here,” he says, laughing. I get angry, clenching my fists,
and narrow my gaze.
“I’m not interested in dancing. I want
you to train me.”
“What’s your name?” So he doesn’t
remember me. Half-relieved and half-offended, I tell him, “Hayley Cross.”
He looks me in the eyes and, seeing the
fire in them, he nods. “Okay, Hayley Cross, we start now.”
I gulp, terrified. I’m not entirely
inactive, but I’m nowhere in the kind of shape as the others in the gym. I fill
out some forms, hand over my identification and credit card, and swallow hard
as I sign on the dotted line.
He gets some gear from a friend of his
and tosses it at me, ordering me to go change. I head into the women’s locker
room and pull on the miniscule booty shorts and sports bra before looking
around for the shirt. I poke my head out.
“Umm, Wes? I don’t have a shirt? And
these shorts...” I cringe.
“Shirt will just get in the way. Get out
here.”
I pull my hair into a ponytail and
re-tie my cross trainers. I step outside, self-consciously tugging the shorts
down over my behind. At least wedgies aren’t sexy, right?
“Good. Come with me.” He leads me to a
small room with a scale and desk. Oh, crap.
Once we’re inside the room with the door
closed, he orders me onto the scale.
“One thirty. Not bad. But you’re soft.
We’ll fix that.” He makes notes on my chart, as if he’s some sort of doctor. A
very scary, bossy doctor.
He looks me over, taking in every
bruise, some faded, some fresh. His jaw clenches and he makes a note, not
saying a word. Finally, he opens the door and leads me to an open mat.
“We’re going to start with stretches.
And I’m telling you right now, ‘I can’t’ is not in your vocabulary. Every fiber
of your being is going to say you’re finished, but you won’t be, not by a long
shot. If you say it, you’re gone? Got it?”
I nod, not trusting my words. At this
point, I don’t know if I’d merely squeak like a mouse or let loose a string of
profanities.
He leads me through a series of
stretches before making a few notes.
“Okay, three laps around the gym,” he
barks. I nod and take off, running as quickly as I can and still unable to keep
up with him. My calves ache and my lungs burn, but I finish. Granted, the last
half lap was more of a fast walk, but whatever. Wes is kind enough not to bark
at me again, instead coming up beside me and encouraging me as I finish.
“Good. Fifty jumping jacks, fifty squats,
fifty crunches.” He looks at his watch, making notes of how long it takes me to
complete each task.
When I’m done, I stand back up, looking
at him both in defiance and fear.
“Another run, three laps,” he says. I
grab a swig of water before he can tell me otherwise and then take off, pacing
myself this time.
“Control your breathing. In through your
nose, out through your mouth. Keep it even,” he says, jogging beside me.
“I’m pretty sure I hate you,” I tell him
through clenched teeth, but I do as he says, finishing the third lap at a
faster pace than the previous run.
When we’re done with the run, he gives
me a minute to catch my breath, eyeing my bruises once again.
“Need to talk about those?” he asks.
“Door,” I reply. Isn’t that the standard
answer in this sort of situation? The old ‘I ran into the door’ excuse? Then
again, most doors don’t aim for your midsection, but at this point, that’s just
semantics.
“Uh-huh. So this door wears a class
ring?” I duck my head, refusing to answer. I didn’t come here for a lecture or
pity. I came to get stronger.
I do another set of exercises like
before, my muscles protesting the sudden exertion after years of dormancy.
“Grab some gloves. You’re going to learn
kickboxing,” Wes calls out as I lie on the mat, spent.
“I thought that was the workout and I
was done,” I complain, looking around for a clock.
“That,” he says, laughing, “was the
warm-up. Gloves. Now!”
I scramble to my feet, grabbing a pair
of sweaty, smelly gloves off of a shelf. Eww. I wrinkle my nose. I stick my
hands in, cringing at the feel of years of layered sweat, hoping to God there
isn’t someone else’s blood dried inside.
Wes grabs some pads and leads me through
a series of punches.
“Okay, since you’re right-handed, your
left is your ‘one’ punch, or jab. Stand with your left foot facing me and your
right foot back and perpendicular, just off to the side so you have some
stability. That’s your base. Your dominant hand is your ‘two’ punch, or cross.
Keep your gloves up next to your face, and throw a ‘one-two,’ rotating your
right hip a bit on the ‘two’ punch.”
I follow his directions, feeling like a
complete fool as several guys stop and watch me throw two weak punches.
“Good. Now harder. You’re not going to
hurt me. Hit me.” I throw the punches in quick succession as he brings the pads
up to block. With each, I grunt, furrowing my brow as I let loose the torrent
of pent-up aggression I’ve felt over the last few years.
“Great. Don’t forget to keep your hands
up, and bring your left back before you throw your cross. But good job,” Wes
tells me.
He goes to take off the pads, but I
don’t stop. I throw punch after punch, until he finally pushes my hands down
with the pads. Noticing my glistening eyes, he tells me to run a few laps to
cool down. Not bothering to remove my gloves, I take off, running faster than
my first run, my adrenaline carrying me through the three laps. When I finish,
I fall to my knees, my head on my gloves as sobs wrack my body.
“Shower, Hayley. You’re all done for
today,” Wes says quietly, pulling me to my feet.
Inside the locker
room, I stand under the cool spray as the water kneads the tension from my
shoulders. Briny tears fall to mingle with the shampoo suds that pour down my
body. When the tears no longer come, I pull my towel from the stall door and
wrap it around my body. Cocooned in its warmth, I dry myself before putting my
own clothes back on and going home
Breathless
Valentine's Edition
What happens when an ordinary girl meets the man of everyone’s dreams?
Keeping secrets is never easy, especially since Ryan Spalding is on the cover of every magazine and this year's "Hottest Hunk under 30." Good thing Carly Sparks is so out of the loop when it comes to celebrity affairs, or she'd realize she was in one!
What happens when an ordinary girl meets the man of everyone’s dreams?
Keeping secrets is never easy, especially since Ryan Spalding is on the cover of every magazine and this year's "Hottest Hunk under 30." Good thing Carly Sparks is so out of the loop when it comes to celebrity affairs, or she'd realize she was in one!
Strapless
Carly and Ryan are getting
married!
Carly is convinced she can have it all - a budding law career, the perfect wedding and even a new house...err...mansion. Can she juggle everything, or will she drop the ball?
Carly is convinced she can have it all - a budding law career, the perfect wedding and even a new house...err...mansion. Can she juggle everything, or will she drop the ball?
Carly and Ryan are married!
But will baby make three before Carly has a chance to come clean about their elopement?
Carly seems like she's got it all - a dream job and a dreamy husband - but she's starting to feel like her dream job is turning into a nightmare. She's feeling incomplete and just needs something... more. With the possibility that she's pregnant, and her lack of enthusiasm for her job, Carly embarks on a career path that she's hoping will leave her fulfilled and feeling like she's done something to leave her mark on the world.
But will baby make three before Carly has a chance to come clean about their elopement?
Carly seems like she's got it all - a dream job and a dreamy husband - but she's starting to feel like her dream job is turning into a nightmare. She's feeling incomplete and just needs something... more. With the possibility that she's pregnant, and her lack of enthusiasm for her job, Carly embarks on a career path that she's hoping will leave her fulfilled and feeling like she's done something to leave her mark on the world.
Peregrine
Elle Whittemore is an American
beauty who travels to paradise to cope with the end of a marriage that never
was.
Stavros Nikolaides is a handsome Greek fisherman who happens to work at the hotel in which Elle is staying. Seeing the sadness in her eyes, he feels drawn to her, having experienced his own painful past.
Can two people overcome loss to find true love, or is this just a holiday infatuation?
Stavros Nikolaides is a handsome Greek fisherman who happens to work at the hotel in which Elle is staying. Seeing the sadness in her eyes, he feels drawn to her, having experienced his own painful past.
Can two people overcome loss to find true love, or is this just a holiday infatuation?
Questions:
1.
When
did you decide to write?
That’s sort of like
asking when did I decide to breathe? I’ve always written, from the required
book a year in elementary school (having gone to a literature/language arts
magnet school), to several projects in middle and high school wherein I elected
to write essays instead of doing those tri-fold boards all of the “cool” kids
were doing.
2.
How
did you come up with the idea of your newest book?
Most of my books come
from dreams, and Stronger was no different. I wanted to write something
about a strong female lead. I start off the novel strong, with only flashbacks
to her weak moments. I didn’t want her to come off simpering or defeated.
3.
What
Genre do write?
Chick lit with a
Christian twist. I can’t really call it Christian romance, because the
characters aren’t written to be perfect, nor are their relationships with God
perfect. There’s a lot of questioning, a lot of wondering where they belong in
this world.
4.
Would
you ever write with another author if asked?
That’s a hard
question! I would say no, because I think that the writing process is so
personal and individualized. Besides, if another author had to wait on me to do
my part, we might not stay friends for long!
5.
Who
is your biggest inspiration?
I would say life is
my biggest inspiration. I pull a lot of the experiences in my books from my own
life experiences, although I’ve never been to Greece! Hayley, in Stronger,
goes to a trainer, so I started taking kickboxing at the local MMA gym on the
advice of a friend. If I haven’t experienced something I’m writing about, I’ll
do whatever I can to make the writing as personal as possible, even if that
means getting my butt kicked two days a week!
6.
Who
are some of your favorite authors?
Heather Huffman,
hands down! She is an amazing writer, and I’ve loved each of her books. I
started reading her when she was giving away her books for free, having decided
that she’d rather get the message out (about human trafficking) than profit
from her work. Her books fluctuate in price now, not always free, although she
does have two freebies out. I highly recommend her!! I also love Nicholas
Sparks, Karin Slaughter & Lisa Gardner, obviously for varying reasons.
7.
What
genre do you like to read?
The better question
is what genre do I not like to read!
I literally read everything, from YA to NA, romance to horror, paranormal to
Christian. If it’s good, and can suck me in, I’ll love it.
8.
What
was the last book that you read?
Waiting
For You, by Heather Huffman. This might be
one of my favorites, even though it’s so different from her others.
9.
What
are you working on?
About twelve projects
at once! No, really, just six or so. But I’m concentrating my efforts right now
into finishing Stronger. I believe in this book and its message, and I
want to use some of the profits to donate to the local Crisis Line & Safe
House. I think that’s why I feel such a need to finish it, because it’s not
just for me or my fans, but for the abused and victimized.
Fun Questions:
1.
Favorite
Animal
Turtle
2. Favorite Color
Pink
3.
Favorite
Food
Beef tips on rice
4. Favorite Genre of Music
New Country
5.
Favorite
Season
Fall
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