1. Let’s start with a little something about you. What do you want the readers to know? That I love reading books. That is my passion!
2. Now? Tell us about your book(s). My newest book The Gangster’s Kiss is the first of three in a series called Love is a Dangerous Thing. It is a small town romance with big time thugs. The story takes place back in the 1920’s in northern Wisconsin. It’s the story of a young woman, who finds out she has been living a lie. The people that she always thought of as bad might be the only ones she can trust.
3. List of favorites…
A. Quote? "I've crossed oceans of time to find you." Bram Stoker - Dracula
B. Color? green
C. Food? bacon
D. Lucky number? 21
E. Movie? Actor? Actress? The Godfather, Tom Hardy, Emma Stone
F. Song? I am loving everything by Imelda May right now.
G. Memory? Seeing The Gangster’s Kiss in paperback for the first time.
H. Way to spend your down time? reading
I. Word? Passion
J. Author? LaVyrle Spencer
K. Secret indulgence? Lingerie
L. Perfume/cologne? Sexy Little Things Noir by Victoria Secrest
M. Place you’ve visited? Vegas baby
N. Guilty pleasure? Salted dark chocolate caramels
O. Cartoon? South Park, Brickleberry
4. Do you have any rituals when you write? Finding a sound track of music that fits with the story. That way if I don’t write for several weeks, all I have to do is listen to the music and I am back on the loop.
5. What/who encouraged you to be a writer and what/who inspires you to keep writing? I got great feedback from a writing class I did a couple years ago. I took some classes to work on the things I needed help on. Randi Alexander was one of my instructors. She encouraged me to keep going and inspired me when I would have given up.
6. Writing plans for the future? I am currently working on The Gangster’s Woman which is the second in the series. I also have to plot out the third which is yet untitled. I have a western time travel called The Pink Rose of the Prairie partially written as well as a small town series waiting in the wings. I would also like to co-write something with another author and have tossed some ideas around with a few.
7. What is your opinion on S’mores? Burnt marshmallow or not? I like burnt.
8. Tell us a story about something you’ve witnessed that made you laugh. Wow, nothing really pops into my head right off the bat but my cats are always doing something funny that makes me laugh.
9. Most embarrassing moment ever? Walking out of the bathroom with my skirt tucked into my nylons. Oops
10. You can teleport anywhere and any era you wish. You can only bring 3 things with you. Where do you go and what do you bring? Wow, that is a hard one. I recently visited Lake Geneva and learned how much of the property there was originally purchased for about one dollar an acre. Today there isn’t one place on the entire lake that has real estate taxes of less than $100,000 per year. So I guess I would go back in time to the late 1800’s and take my husband (he would enjoy fishing back then), my camera to take pictures with, and I would take lots of money and buy land around the lakes.
11. What are your feelings about chocolate milk? Love it
12. Pet person? Do you have them? If so, tell us about them? I have always had pets. We had a chocolate lab for 13 years and right now we have two inside cats.
13. Tell us about your first kiss. Not much to tell. The person I am kissing now is more important.
14. Have you ever walked down a toy aisle at a store and pushed all the buttons? Doesn’t everyone?
15. It’s raining outside, you’re completely alone, what do you do? Read. I know, I’m pretty boring.
16. Words of wisdom for our readers? Be original. Write the book that one has thought of yet.
Ginger Ring is an eclectic, Midwestern girl with a weakness for cheese, dark chocolate, and the Green Bay Packers. She loves reading, playing with her cats, watching great movies, and has a quirky sense of humor. Publishing a book has been a lifelong dream of hers and she is excited to share her romantic stories with you. Her heroines are classy, sassy and in search of love and adventure. When Ginger isn’t tracking down old gangster haunts or stopping at historical landmarks, you can find her on the backwaters of the Mississippi River fishing with her husband.
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John O’Malley’s sister is missing. All the clues of her disappearance lead to Hayward County, Wisconsin and the crooks and questionable sheriff that reside there. Pretending to be one of them, John takes a job as bodyguard for the sheriff’s beautiful sister, Grace. It seems like the perfect way to investigate their crimes and corruption, but when someone threatens to kill Grace, the job proves harder than he thought. Is she an innocent witness to a crime, or just as guilty as everyone else?
Grace Sullivan just wanted a normal life: find a good man, get married and have a family. She has had enough of looking the other way while her brother hides behind his sheriff’s badge to conduct shady dealings. Hiring a gangster named John to watch her is the final straw. When a face from the past threatens her life, she is forced to put her life in John’s hands, but as time goes on, all she really wants is to be in the gangster’s arms.
Excerpt for Mia
“You can come out, Miss Sullivan. I mean you no harm.” A low voice with a slight Irish accent called from the road. How did he know her name? She risked a peek. It was the man from the car. The one Daniel had just hired.
“Why are you chasing me?” Her voice did not sound nearly as strong as she wanted it to be.
“Begging your pardon, miss, I wasn’t chasing you.” She looked again. He stood relaxed and leaning on one leg. His left hand tucked into a trouser pocket. A suit coat folded over his forearm. A shotgun in one hand and a gun holster looped around each shoulder. “Your brother sent me to make sure you made it home safely.”
“Why would he do that? I’ve walked home safely plenty of times by myself.” She gripped the stick even tighter.
“Not to worry you none, miss, but there has been word of some kidnappings farther south. I’m sure you are quite capable of taking care of yourself but that twig in your hand will not save you from a bad man with a big gun.”
“And how do I know you are not a bad man with a big gun?” Her eyes glared at the weapon in his hand.
He chuckled and kicked a rock to the side with his shoe. “I have a big gun, yes, but if I was a bad man you would not be still standing there asking that question.” He switched the shotgun to his other hand and motioned her forward. “Please come out. We need to get off this road and get you home.”
Grace looked both directions down the road before stepping cautiously from behind the tree, the club still clutched tightly in her hand behind her back and the basket in the other. “What was your name again, boy?” She puffed out her chest. Her chin lifted and she began to walk in the direction of home again.
“O’Malley, John O’Malley, miss, and I am no boy.” He grinned down at her and winked.
“That’s debatable. Real men don’t follow lone women on their walk home and frighten them to death.”
“I’m sorry I frightened you, Miss Sullivan. That was not my intention. Mr. Sullivan didn’t realize you were leaving town until it was too late. I said I would make sure you arrived in one piece.”
Grace smirked. “I’ll have you know, Mr. O’Malley, I have made it home in one piece for many years without your help.” She didn’t know who to be angrier with, her brother for treating her like a child, or the man beside her.
“Here, let me carry that basket for you.” John reached to take it from her.
“It’s quite all right.” She eyed the shotgun in his hand. “It looks like you have enough to carry.”
“That’s where you’re mistaken.” His warm hand touched hers as he grabbed the handle of her wicker basket. The brief contact sent goose bumps up her arm. They each held tight to the handle as they walked. “My mother, God rest her soul, raised me to be a gentleman. A gentleman never lets a lady carry her burdens alone.”
“And what do you know of my burdens, Mr. O’Malley?” She challenged.
“I don’t, but I think for the time being,” he slowed and nodded ahead, “it might be best if you dropped that club you’re carrying and hold your basket yourself.” He released his hold on the basket and moved the shotgun back to his right hand.
Grace looked where he indicated and her step faltered. It was him. The man she recognized from dinner last night. The club slipped from her fingers and made a thud when it hit the dirt.
“Don’t worry,” John whispered in her ear, “I won’t let anything happen to you.”
The man leaned against his car, shaving wood with a knife. “Miss Sullivan, we meet again,” he called from ahead, not bothering to look in her direction. He’d been waiting for her. Grace and John said nothing as they approached, but the stranger continued to speak, “You know, I still can’t figure out where I know you from. As I told you, I never forget a face.” He stopped whittling and stood. “It will come to me.”
Grace could feel tension fill the man beside her. Not wanting things to get out of hand, she inhaled a deep breath and addressed the intruder, “I’m afraid it is as I told you last night. I seldom go anywhere, so you must surely have me confused with someone else.” Grace and John slowed their gait as they approached the car, but kept walking. She turned as they passed and walked backward a few steps. “By the way, sir, what is your name?” Grace inquired, as she moved.
“The name’s Ed. Eddie ‘The Knife’ Killian.” He removed his hat and bowed his head.
Grace shook her head. “No, sorry. It doesn’t ring a bell. Maybe you know my friend here?” She gestured an elegant hand at John. “His name is John, Johnnie ‘Big Gun’ O’Malley. Good day to you, Mr. Killian.” She tucked her hand in the crook of John’s elbow and kept walking.
The woman had spunk, that’s for sure. Her hand tightened in the crook of his arm, but she’d stood up to that man like he was a rude schoolboy. She was obviously more than just a pretty face. John looked back to make sure the man wasn’t following. Good. Killian started his car and was heading toward town.
“You can relax. He’s going.” John reassured. “Friend of yours?”
“Hardly.” She turned her head to watch the retreating car. “He was at the house last night and insists that we are acquainted.” Her fingers still gripped his arm.
“Did he do something to upset you? Because if he did...” John stopped and looked at her pale face.
“No. It was nothing.” She dropped her hand from his arm and started walking.
“Are you sure? Maybe we need to tell Sheriff Sullivan about this.” He tried to retrieve her basket again.
“No. Please.” Her voice trembled, but was firm. “I don’t want to cause any trouble. My brother has enough things to worry about without dealing with some man that obviously thinks I am someone else.” Her blue eyes threatened tears. For a second, he had the urge take her in his arms and tell her everything would be okay, but things weren’t okay. She was not his girl and none of his concern. This was just a job. John turned to make sure Killian was still on his way.
He’d let it go for now, but he would be keeping an eye out for the man. Something wasn’t right. John didn’t know Grace very well, but he could always tell when someone was lying.
Her mood teeter-tottered back and forth like a seesaw. Unfortunately, now jealousy had raised its ugly head and her blood boiled for a fight. As she marched to the garage, Grace stomped her fancy shoes, making little puffs of dust with every step in the dirt. Tight fists swung back and forth with every step.
The wooden stairs to his room echoed her angry steps. Reaching his door, Grace gripped the doorknob and swung open the door. John stood half-naked, shaving in front of an old cracked mirror.
“Don’t believe in knocking, princess?” He never looked her way, just continued to shave. The straight blade scraped along his neck, one graceful swipe after another.
His concentration was obviously on the task at hand and not on her. “I didn’t want to startle you and have you slit your throat.” She crossed the room and sat on his bed. Shock that she’d burst into his room and was sitting on his bed briefly flashed into her mind. She dismissed it and tried to calm her racing pulse. Trying to appear relaxed, she rested her arm on the iron footboard. Overlapping her legs, she swung one long leg gracefully back and forth.
“So, you decided to just barge right in and that would be quieter?” He rinsed the blade in the sink full of water and surveyed his jaw once more in the mirror for spots he may have missed. “I’m not in the mood for games this morning, Grace.”
“Who said I wanted to play games?” Her chest puffed out.
“You tell me. I’m not the one who barged into your room.” John splashed his face and then patted it dry with a towel.
“My, you’re in a temper this morning.” The swinging of her shoe increased in speed.
“I’m not angry.” He reached for a comb and ran it through his hair. “Just tired.”
This was not going as planned. All the words that she wished to say were suddenly gone. Instead, she just blurted out the first thing that came to mind, “Well, I’m angry with you.”
“For what?” He turned and sat his backside against the sink, his arms folded over his chest.
“You left me alone last night.” She stood, walked to his side, and leaned a shoulder on the wall.
“Your brother was here.” John faced toward the mirror again and returned to combing his hair.
He was trying to ignore her, it would seem. Had he lost interest so fast?
“That’s not what I meant.” Her nose raised and her hand settled on her hip.
“And what do you mean?” John halted, tossed the comb on a shelf, and stepped closer. So close she could smell the clean scent of his soap. Her cheeks heated as she recalled that part of her dream. His chest was bare except for the springy dark curls that graced his chest before narrowing to a line that disappeared into his trousers. Her ears burned and she swallowed.
“I trusted you.” She settled deeper against the wall.
“Is that it? I passed another test on your list and now you are angry because I didn’t live up to your standards.”
How did he know she had a list? “Something like that.” Her lower lip stuck out and she stared at the floor.
“So what did I do to lose your trust?” John crossed his arms. A line creased his forehead.
“Daniel said you went to Roxie’s.” Grace peeked at his eyes before looking away. It never mattered that her father or brother had probably frequented there, but with John, it was a different story.
“Aye, and what has that got to do with trust?” His voice rose in anger now, which riled her even more.
“Why are you yelling?” She bit her lip to keep it from trembling.
“Because I’m tired, frustrated, and I don’t know what the hell you are doing here?”
“I can understand you being tired, but I thought that ‘kind of activity’ was supposed to ease a man’s,” she searched for the right word, “exasperations.”
He laughed and braced a hand on each side of her shoulders along the wall. “Is that what this is? You’re jealous.”
“I am not.” The tip of her chin rose. “I thought we had a business agreement.”
“Are you offering the same kind of business as they do at Roxie’s?” He leered at her chest and raised an eyebrow.
Her cheeks flamed. “Heavens, no. What kind of lady do you think I am?” The man was infuriating.
“I know what kind of lady I’d like you to be.” He wasn’t backing down.
“Be that as it may, I won’t waste my time on any man who doesn’t love me full time.” She narrowed her gaze. “Or one that spends his time in a whorehouse.”
“You think I spent the night between some woman’s thighs.” He stepped closer and the tip of his finger tapped her nose.
“Don’t be crude, John, and don’t be silly. Why, I should give two bits about whom you spend your time with.” But, she did care and it hurt like hell to think of him with someone else.
His right hand framed her jaw and his thumb slid across her lower lip. The rapid beat of her heart threatened to bring on the vapors.
“Oh, yeah,” he whispered.
Was that a question or a statement? She couldn’t decide.
“Yeah.” It was all she could manage to say before her eyelids lowered.
She jumped when his lips touched hers. His large frame pressed her smaller one against the wall. The kiss was forceful before gentling. Her knees weakened as he nipped her lips. When she kissed back, his tongue gained entrance. The kiss tasted sweet, like maple syrup. John’s arms reached around her back and held her close. Her breasts compressed against his chest. Her soft curves yielded to his hard length. Grace gasped for air when the kiss ended. His eyes shone darker than usual.
“I was there, princess, but the only pair of legs I want to be between belong to a woman who wasn’t there.”
The comment brought her crashing back to Earth. She reached an arm back to swing and he grabbed her hand before it could make contact with his face. “You’re nothing but a thug, John O’Malley.”
A smile crinkled little lines around his eyes. “Aye, but I’m your thug.” He enfolded her in a hug and swung her around. “I think you want a thug, Grace.” He released her and grinned. “A gentleman thug.”
“There is no such thing.” She placed her fists on her hips.
“Aye, there is and it is just what you need. A gentleman thug—that’s a man who will open the door and then slap your perfect arse as you pass.”
That kind of man did sound intriguing, but he didn’t need to know that. “Be that as it may, I still don’t know if I can trust you.” Her spine straightened and she gazed at an old picture of three horses in a storm hanging on the wall.
“Can I trust you, Grace?” he asked softly.
Thank you so very much for sharing this with us, Ginger! LOVE your bio! ;) Nice to meet another mid-west gal!