Continuing with Small Blog, Big Giveaway, two lucky commentators will win copies of TO LOVE A HERO, international romance, or FRENCH PERIL, romantic suspense.

I've been often asked: What made you write this particular book? Why did you set your story in that particiular setting? So let me explain the whys behind three of my stories.

When I started writing, I already knew that my heroine would be an all-American gal, educated, assertive and independent. But I wanted my hero to be different from the men she met everyday at work. While traveling abroad, I observed the foreign male and study how he could attract my American heroine and be worthy of her love.

During my business trips to Belarus, I dealt mostly with officers, handsome, reserved, aloof at first sight.

TO LOVE A HERO --available for $0.99--highlights the hospitality and warmth of the gorgeous and valiant Belarusian officers who sing, toast with vodka and make a woman feel like a goddess.

The Russian hero, such as the handsome Major General Sergei of TO LOVE A HERO, is a perfect example of alpha hero: a patriotic officer, authoritative and chauvinistic but protective and gallant, honest and loyal.

FRENCH PERIL was inspired by a vacation in a modernized chateau, in the historical Loire Valley. I was so impressed by the magnificence of the French chateaux and the wealth of history of that area, I visualized gallant aristocrats entertaining beautiful women in lavishly decorated galleries and plush gardens. Stories played in my mind. I upped the stakes with a missing statue and the murder of a professor to create a romantic suspense, FRENCH PERIL--available for $0.99.

In France, the old gallantry has survived and many Frenchmen would not hesitate to write a poem to their beloved. The aristocratic male greets a woman by bowing over her hand for a kiss while the average Frenchman kisses her three times on the cheeks. The French hero is a playboy and a womanizer, determined not to be entrapped, but also a generous and passionate lover.

In NO MORE LIES, Dr. Luc George is a charming psychiatrist and gallant aristocrat, the perfect French lover a woman can wish for. He detests secrets, but the woman he loves, Dr. Olivia Crane, has secrets by the bucket-load.

A lie that brings a smile...or the truth that draws tears?

Olivia doesn’t want to remember the past, doesn’t want to talk about it and carefully hide it from her daughter and from the man she loves. As a successful doctor, she treats abused patients, yet she is so afraid of seeing the past destroy her daughter’s peace of mind, that one little lie leads to another, and another,…

All hell breaks loose when Luc strolls into her office, with open arms and a confident smile. Should she return his scorching kisses, or should she lock her door before he digs into her many secrets?

Secret daughter, secret friend, secret enemy. Had Luc really known his sweet Olivia back then? He wants her back, but he wants the truth too. Now, Olivia has to face her past before she can grab her second chance.

NO MORE LIES --available for $0.99--is a sweet and sensual story that will make you smile, laugh and cry— the story of two psychiatrists with conflicting theories on how to treat their patients and tame their own emotions.

“Chinese restaurant… Malaysian student… ”
Cheryl Stewart raised the volume on her cell phone and pushed it closer to her ear to decipher the intermittent mumbling. “What’s wrong, Doc?”
“Heart…stomach… ” A pause amplified the labored breathing of her mentor.
She connected the hardly audible words. “You’ve been to a Chinese restaurant with a Malaysian student when you felt sick?” Leaning forward, she tightened her grasp on the phone. “Where are you now?”
“Am…Amb… ” The strident wail of an ambulance siren interrupted his effort and Cheryl’s pulse raced at the sound.
“Which hospital are you going to?” God, she should have insisted he take better care of his health.
“ER… Cam…bridge Hos…pital… “
“I’m coming.” It made sense that the paramedics had rushed him to the closest medical center to Harvard School of Architecture.
“Don’t. I need… ” Doc’s voice suddenly forceful filled the line and then collapsed as if he’d lost his last shred of energy.
“Yes, what do you need?” Her throat constricted in anguish. She’d do anything to help the man she’d considered a surrogate father for the last eight years.
Her question must have triggered some awareness. “Go to France… My plane ticket in my office...left drawer... Take my laptop...password statue.” His voice shattered, then came back. She didn’t know if she’d missed something. “Go. Careful. Watch… ” His panting reached her across the line, louder than his words. “Tell François…tell… ”
“Yes?” She probed, her heart drumming in the deafening silence.
“Go…tomorrow.”
“What about you?”
“Maybe food poisoning… Better soon.” He grunted and gasped. “Go.” The connection was cut. Cheryl checked the calling phone number. His cell phone. Had Doc closed the line because a new surge of pain assailed him?
Professor Howard sick? He hadn’t missed a day of work since she’d sat in his class for the first time eight years ago. Should she disobey his orders and rush to the hospital to reassure herself he wasn’t in danger? She bit her lip, hesitating. No, she couldn’t do that. If he’d taken the trouble to call her on his cell phone while in the ambulance writhing in pain, she’d better do exactly as he said.
Her briefcase under her arm, she left the graduate students’ studio at Harvard School of Architecture and strode down the hallway to Professor Stanley Howard’s office. He’d given her a key two months ago when she worked with him on the statue’s project as part of her Ph.D. thesis. She unlocked his office, closed the door behind her and went straight to his desk.
In the first drawer she found a plane ticket and Doc’s passport. She took the ticket as instructed and left the passport. Now, the laptop, his most precious possession, where he saved his plans, research, and discoveries. She scanned the well-organized but cluttered office, the double rows of books in the bookcase, the paper-covered credenza and the big computer sitting on a cart.
Where had he hidden it? And why? She unlocked the closet and sighed with relief when she found it under a pile of journals. Sliding both the airfare ticket and the laptop in her briefcase, she left the sanctuary where Professor Howard spent his days and most of his nights. She locked the door behind her and strolled down the Friday-evening-deserted hallway to the graduate students’ studio where she had a desk.
An hour later, as she left the studio, she glanced down the hallway and gasped. A man just stepped out of Doc’s office. What the hell was he doing there? Except for Cheryl and security, no one else had a key to her mentor’s office.
“Hey, you,” she shouted, but the intruder had already disappeared around the corner.