Happy Holidays!

Merry Christmas!

Thank you for another wonderful year. I hope that you have a wonderful holiday season, spent with the people you love and cherish and may you receive the gift of a wonderful book!

I know I’ve said it before, but thank you for all of your ongoing love and support. You are the reason I write.

May you be blessed this season and in the year to come!

-Danica Winters

Paranormal Romance Guild Nominee for Best Book!

Montana Mustangs has been nominated for PARANORMAL ROMANTIC SUSPENSE BOOK OF THE YEAR!!  And I need your help!!

Dear Friends-  I’m excited to announce that my novel, Montana Mustangs, has been nominated by the Paranormal Romance Guild for PARANORMAL ROMANTIC SUSPENSE OF THE YEAR!
To win this highly coveted award, I am asking that my fans vote each day through January 13, 2014 (You can vote by clicking here)!
As always, I want to thank my wonderful, loyal fans. I love receiving your many notes and cards. Your kind words and support are truly amazing!
Wishing you a Happy New Year!
Thank you, Danica Winters   *I know many of you have fallen in love with Montana Mustangs, but for those of you who have yet to check it out, you can find it on all retail sites including Amazon. It will also be available in paperback soon!

                                                                                
Thank you for your help!!

If you are interested in joining my mailing list (I send out postcards when there are new releases) you can sign up here!

Montana Mustangs–Now Available for Pre-Order! (Let’s Party!)

Montana Mustangs Cover Montana Mustangs

 I’m so pleased to announce that Montana Mustangs (the second book in the Nymph Series after The Nymph’s Labyrinth) is now available for pre-order.  I would love for you to check it out.  Early reviews are starting to come in and as of today all are 5 star reviews!!  (This is almost unheard of!)  I can’t wait for you to get your hands on this book.  You will love it!

Book Description:

A Nymph.  A woman with the ability to seduce at will, shift to protect, but cursed with the fate to have the man she falls in love with die a tragic death.  As one of the ill-fated nymphs, Aura Montgarten has spent her lifetime drifting from one place to another hiding from love.  Until she meets Dane.

When a body washes up on the shore of a rural Montana lake, police officer Dane Burke is faced with the task of finding the killer—even if it means he will be forced to put his life and heart at risk by working with a drifter.  As the truth of Aura’s Mustang-shifting Nymph ways are revealed, Dane learns exactly the amount of danger he and Aura are in, but can’t force himself to leave a case unsolved when the truth is right outside of his grasp. 

When the killer decides he needs to take another victim—Dane—Aura must choose between their forbidden love and her immortal life…  Can there be life without love, or is death her only choice? 

Book Excerpt:

  Chapter One

The waves of the lake crashed next to Dane Burke like greedy reporters descending onto a crime scene. Dane picked up the severed hand, careful to touch it only with the tips of his gloved fingers, all in an attempt to save what little evidence remained.

The fingers were wrinkled and pale, the color of rotting fish. The skin of the palm flapped back, exposing the white lines of the tendons and the bloated pink muscles of the victim’s hand. He pushed back the skin, covering the hand’s viscera. The flesh was rubbed raw in several places, but whether it was from the time in the water or something else Dane couldn’t be sure.

Behind him, the secondary officer, Grant, talked with the woman who’d phoned in the find. The woman was blonde, thin, and uncomfortably beautiful.

“So, Aura, are you in Montana for business or pleasure?” Officer Grant asked, with just a little too much glee in his voice.

Dane tried to ignore the amateurish come-ons the officer threw at the blonde with the large blue eyes and plump lips that pulsed with the pink hues of life.

He turned the gruesome hand over in his. The fingernails of the victim were painted a vivid red, now brighter than the blood that had settled in the person’s flesh. He snickered quietly as he thought about the stark difference between the woman behind him who was the embodiment of life and the macabre sloughing object of death he stared upon.

Maybe the kid wasn’t so wrong for focusing on the woman. If he’d been just a few years younger, maybe he would have been acting that way too—focusing on the beauty of the woman instead of the gore of the job. But he’d long since given up on the things in life that only brought bitterness—death was easier to handle…

 

About Danica Winters

Danica Winters is a bestselling author who is known for writing award-winning books that grip readers with their ability to drive emotion through suspense and often a touch of magic.  When she’s not working she can be found in the wilds of Montana working on her patience while she tries to understand the allure of various crafts (quilting, pottery and painting are not her thing).  She always believe the cup is neither half full nor half empty, but it better be filled with wine.

How Writing Saved my Marriage

A few years ago, I was a brand new mom hell bent on doing the best job I could to raise my children—which to me meant I would stay home and raise my children while my husband went to work.  We never meant it as a statement on gender roles or my mental aptitude for success, no.  He and I met young and he was in a stable industry which promised us a secure income (not bathing in hundred dollar bills, mind you).  When I finished college we made a choice that instead of heading off to a nine to five job we would start a family and as soon as our children were in school we could readdress the issue of my job-seeking. 

At the twedding bandime, I thought this was a fantastic idea and to this day I still agree with my initial decision.  It made little sense for me (a trained Archeologist by day and a Telemetry Tech by night) to go after a job that would keep me traveling or force us to move and thus make him give up his secure job. 

After our first child was born, I decided that I wanted to do something for my child and I decided to write a children’s book in honor of their entrance into the world.  Amazingly enough, though I knew virtually nothing about publishing, the book was picked up by a publishing house and my journey as an author began.

During this time, I tried to promote my book (though these were the days before the Facebook and Twitter booms).  I reached out to all the people I knew and pocket sold a fair amount of books.  I loved that in some small way I could contribute financially to our growing family. 

Soon we had a two-year-old and another on the way.  And just as soon as I found out I was pregnant with the second child I soon found out that we were having a miscarriage.  I blamed myself.  I blamed my life.  I blamed the world.  In hind sight I know that it was just one of those things which happens to many women—it was unstoppable.  Against our doctor’s orders we went ahead and got pregnant again—and six months into the pregnancy I was told I would have to be on bed rest for the next four months.  The time was maddening. 

While confined to a bed I considered writing more children’s books, but after having gone through the marketing and distribution of the first book I made a choice—writing children’s books just wasn’t the direction I wanted to go.  I needed more of a mental challenge.  I wanted to write full length fiction—and more than that I wanted to write romance—the genre that I had always wanted to write, but had previously been scared to admit to my friends and family. 

Before I could begin my first romance novel, my second child was born—only a few weeks early and relatively healthy.  The days and nights flew by and soon my husband was back to work and taking care of our family’s financial needs.  I found that I was by myself with two small children all day (he worked nights) while he slept and then was by myself when he went to work and the kids went to bed.  I kept thinking about writing the romance novel of my dreams, but each time I thought “I’m not creative enough…”

Each time I started to pick up the pen I made another excuse as to why I couldn’t do what I wanted.   I began feeling the strains of being a new mom, of being lonely (I didn’t want to be a mom that watched the clock and waited for the exact minute my husband was supposed to be home), of not financially contributing to our family, and I still held wounds from losing our second baby. 

In an effort to follow my heart and to begin the healing process, I started writing short stories and pieces for parenting magazines—it was a comfortable move from children’s fiction to family-centered non-fiction.  I loved writing the pieces and before long found I had a small cult following.  I then won a writing contest in which I talked about the emotional rollercoaster which followed the loss of a pregnancy. 

That win pushed me.  Someone…well not just someone, but many…loved what I wrote.  That day I sat down and started writing my first novel. 

I had never written a full length novel.  I’d never written creative fiction—not even in college. But I knew it was what I wanted.  I wanted to create a work of fiction and contribute intellectually to the world.  I wanted to show those who thought I was just a stay at home mom who was strapped to the kitchen stove—I could do more (during this time someone—not my husband—told me that they would never have married a woman like me as I had no earning potential).  Nothing drives me more than being put down.  I always cheer for the underdog. 

The first book I wrote took me a year to write.  I sent it out with the blind hope that someone else would love what I had to write. 

The book failed.

failure2

It failed big.

One editor told me I should go back to college (oh, how I wish I was kidding).  I cried in my husband’s arms and hated that I had given up a year to write the book.  I hated the thought that I had spent time which I could have given to my children in order to follow my dream.  I felt selfish and stupid.  I pitied myself and cursed my dream.  I fell back into the loneliness of being a stay at home mom with a husband who worked nights. 

And then one day my husband asked me what I wanted to do.  As much as the wounds of failing hurt, I told him I still wanted to be a writer.  I didn’t care if I ever made money, but I wanted to see my name on the cover of a book in print.   Just as before, he promised his love and support.  And in that moment I realized what a wonderful man I had married.  Here he was accepting that I may never get published, that I may never contribute anything to the family, and yet he knew I was going to require many hours in which he would need to take the kids and keep the household in order so that I could write and focus on my dream.  He promised that we would work together and he would support me in whatever I wanted to do—regardless of the outcome. 

Again I was barraged with insults from strangers and family alike—why would I keep on doing this if I had failed?  Why didn’t I just stick to children’s fiction?  The best—That I didn’t care about my family because I was selfishly going after my own foolish desires (talk about pouring salt on a wound).   I drove on.  I joined professional organizations for romance authors.  I joined critique groups.  I spent our money on going to conferences so that I could take more classes and talk to authors.  I gave my dream everything I had. 

I wrote another book.  I submitted.  I waited for the rejection letters/hate mail.  Because this isn’t fiction I have to admit the letters started coming and I was faced with the possibility that once again I may have failed.  But then I received an offer… and another…and another…and another…

Fast-forward a couple of years to today.  As I sit here and write this I am proud to say that my family is stronger than it has ever been.  My husband still works nights, but in a funny turn of events I now look forward to his going so I can focus on writing.  I have a book out in print and several more as e-books.  I have made the bestsellers list on different occasions.  I have signed a multiple book contract with Crimson Romance for The Nymph Series (the second book comes out May 6 entitled Montana Mustangs).  I have met several amazing editors in person who I thought I would never meet.  I have met several famous authors and been absolutely star-struck.  I have won more awards for my writing.  I have taken a job at a publishing house.  I have started to teach classes to new authors.  I’ve been featured in The Independent, the Missoulian, several other newspapers/magazines, and USA Today.  I’m succeeding at following my dream. 

I have to admit that I have more dreams.  I think once you take one step you must take another or you will only stand still.  My biggest dream?  One day I hope that I will make the USA Today and New York Times Bestsellers lists. 

Yet, if this dream is not fulfilled I’m okay.  I have the knowledge that I have had the courage to stand up against neigh Sayers and the fortitude to survive heartbreak.  And most of all I have the most amazing husband in the world and I know that if I wouldn’t have had him and his support I would have never had the strength to follow my dreams.  So to him—Thank you, you are incredible.