So, what next?
I have two separate Viking series, what I refer to as Viking Series I (The Reluctant Viking, The Outlaw Viking, The Tarnished Lady, The Bewitched Viking, The Blue Viking, My Fair Viking, and A Tale of Two Vikings) and Viking Series II (The Last Viking, Truly, Madly Viking and The Very Virile Viking).
I know for sure that I want to write stories for Jamie, the Scots Viking, all grown up; Alrek, the clumsy Viking, also all grown up; perhaps the brooding John of Hawks’ Lair; perhaps Tyra’s sisters. Hey, wouldn’t Finn Finehair be a challenge to make into a hero?
And here’s a surprise. There will be a fourth book in October, 2004 in the Viking Series II called Wet and Wild. Ragnor is dying to tell his story… how he became a modern-day Navy SEAL. See the excerpt which follows.
Please check out my website on occasion for news. Contests are held just before every new book release. And if you sign up for my e-mail list, you will get two, possibly three, newsletters per year.
As always, thank you so much for your continued support. I cannot tell you how much you are appreciated.
Sandra Hill
PO Box 604
State College, PA 16804
shill733@aol.com www.sandrahill.net
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Turn the page for a special
sneak preview of Sandra Hill’s
next Viking romance:
WET & WILD
Coming in October!
They are the most elite warriors in the world. Hard-bodied, loyal, strong fighters, great lovers. Are you thinking Vikings? Or Navy SEALs? How about a combination of both? What if a tenth-century Viking man got sidetracked on the way to Valhalla and landed, instead, in the middle of a modern-day Navy SEALs training program? You don’t have to believe in time-travel… just miracles.
Die-Hard, Die-Soft… Whatever!… Dead is Dead …
Ragnor shot straight up in the air from the water, like a dolphin, took a huge gulp of air, then felt himself being shoved back under by a heavy hand. He’d always prided himself on being leather-lunged, but this was ridiculous. Apparently he hadn’t died after all… not yet. And neither had his Saxon enemy, whose hand was pressed down on top of his head.
Enough is enough! Drawing on some inner energy and the will to live… now that he knew life was a possibility… he shoved the hand aside, kicked the man in the groin, then swam swiftly to the surface. To his surprise, there were other heads bobbing around him, but they were swimming to a nearby yellow boat, and a measly boat it was, too. Bigger than a small fishing boat but smaller than even the smallest longship. And it wasn’t even made of wood. In fact, there were several similar boats a short distance away and men swimming about them, too.
“What the hell was that about down there?” a man yelled in his face as he came to the surface, too. It was not the Saxon warrior he’d been struggling with when he’d almost drowned, although his short brown hair had a reddish tint, too. It must be another Saxon warrior. This man, a thunderous expression on his angry face, yelled out to what must be his comrades, “This jerkoff just kicked me in the nuts, deliberately.” Then he blinked at him, as if in sudden recognition. “Magnusson, you dumb sonofabitch, what are you doing here? I thought you were gone.” A vein in his forehead looked as if it might pop.
Well, of course he had kicked him deliberately. The man had been trying to drown him. As for being gone, he’d thought so, too. But how did the man know his name? He shrugged, guessing that his wordfame must have spread, even to the Saxon lands.
Immediately, he was surrounded by a half dozen men. The leader—the one who’d been down there with him—pointed sharply to the left and bellowed right in his face, “Get your ass out of the water. Pronto! I have a few things to say to you, Ensign Magnusson.”
End-sign? Is that a vile name in the Saxon language? Hmmm, I thought I was proficient in the English tongue, but mayhap not. This fellow speaks with an odd accent.