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Keep Learning And Exploring | Lynn Chantale

Keep Learning and Exploring

“Come here and let me tell you something.” How many times have you heard that?? When I got serious about publishing, which was in the late 90’s early 2000’s, there wasn’t a lot of readily available information. I had no idea there were publications specifically for writers and ‘how to’ guides. The best thing I knew was to send a letter to the address printed on the front matter of my favorite books.


One of the first pieces of advice I received was to find a critique or crit partner. (*gulp*, you mean, I have to let someone else read my work?) So, I found one and sent them a chapter. Annnnd . . . didn’t read their comments. Why not? Yep, you guessed it, I was terrified of what they would say.


So, I found a publisher who hosted chats on a weekly basis and joined their crit group. As I gained confidence with chatting with published authors and unpublished writers, I took the plunge and submitted a chapter to the host critique group. There I met some awesome ladies who helped me polish my writing. Yes, this time I swallowed hard and read the comments that these two ladies sent me.


They were not unkind. In fact, they greatly encouraged and praised me.


The second piece of advice I received, “Go hawt.” Or as the books call it, writing blue. Readers know it as erotic or super steamy romance, or if you’re my sister ‘Letters to Penthouse.’ I think the name of the reference books I used were: ‘How to Write Erotica’ and ‘So You Want to be a Romance Writer’. And of course, Google was and is my friend.


The third piece of advice I received was to market and build my brand. Even as a yet unpublished writer, get yourself out there. Have a catchy tagline and use it. Let readers know what you’re about, tell them what type of writer you are. I built my brand around African-American, Interracial and Multicultural romance with sub-genres in mystery/suspense, paranormal and erotic romance.


The advice I would give is based on what I’ve learned, and the advice given.

First, Do NOT read the reviews, unless you have extremely thick skin, and even then, I’d advise no. The first review I ever received was negative. The reader absolutely trashed my book. Even after all these years, I can still remember being devastated that someone could be so mean. It’s different when the criticism is constructive but when it’s downright mean, it hurts.


Second, learn as much of your craft as possible and then learn some more. Writing is an ever-changing medium and what was learned five years ago, may not pertain to now. So, keep learning and exploring. And if you find a formula that works for you, stick with it.


And the final piece of advice I’ll give is to have fun. Writing may be a solitary act, but the process is not. Enjoy the research, meet new people, revel in the newness of each character and the experience they bring to the page.


So, come on, sit down and tell me a little something and I’ll do the same.


“Indulge Your Inner Romantic”


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His Gaze Pierced Hers #MFRWhooks

Seducing His Wife by Lynn Chantale  

Haunted by nightmares, Sheridan Sinclair just wants to get through one night without reliving the terrible accident that led to her miscarriage. And she longs for the arms of the man who betrayed her. Matthew Sinclair has always loved his wife, but when she refuses to speak to him after her accident, he’s left to wonder what went wrong. When a stolen kiss ignites their forgotten passion, he’ll use their love as a means to get her home and in his bed again. Will a husband’s plan of seduction be enough to heal a wife’s broken heart?




When she found the last few sketches, she shuffled them neatly and exited her office. Whatever designs Mrs. Davis didn’t use for the Governor’s Ball, she would file away.


“I found them!” Sheridan announced breathlessly, entering the room. “Although for this particular dress, the manufacturing…” Her gaze fell on the tall, dark, handsome man standing in the middle of her boutique.


Images of him and that…that woman clouded her mind. How she led him inside, salad dressing filling her nostrils, and waiting for him to leave her darkened house. A searing pain ripped her heart. The sketches slipped from her fingers and whispered to the floor. “Matthew,” she murmured, his name sticking in her throat.


His gaze pierced hers. “Hello, Sheridan. Nice to see you again.”


Sheridan couldn’t stop staring. He looked just as good as she remembered, well…maybe a little better. She snuck another glance. He appeared bigger, as if he’d been working out, and he still made her heart race and hands tremble. She inhaled, and her senses collided with the crisp, woodsy scent she gave him for his last birthday. Tears burned her eyes.


“Darling, are you all right?” Mrs. Davis asked, concern coloring her voice.


Sheridan blinked. They weren’t alone. “Yes, yes, I’m fine.” She unclenched her wool skirt and realized her hands were empty. She glanced at the floor and stooped to retrieve the fallen sketches.


Matthew bent to pick up one of the pages resting near him. “I need to talk to you.” He offered her the page, holding her gaze a moment before straightening to his feet.


Sheridan stood, shuffling the papers back into order, hating how her hands shook, how he still sent electricity pulsing through her veins with just a look. “Um, Mrs. Davis. These are the sketches.” She handed the drawings to the older woman. “If you’ll excuse me?”


Mrs. Davis offered a sympathetic smile. “Of course, dear. Nessa and I will discuss these over a cup of peppermint tea, and if I leave before you return, I’ll see you Friday.”


Sheridan glanced at Matthew. “I’ll get my coat. We can walk to the café on the corner.” She forced her steps to remain slow as she entered the back. Once out of sight, she took a deep breath.


He was here. He had finally come to ask for a divorce so he could marry the woman he should have married. She wouldn’t wait. Sheridan wouldn’t prolong the process. She blinked back a set of tears, tugging on her coat and hat. She had to do this now or she would never be able to walk away again.


She returned to the front of the store and quietly approached where Matthew stood. “Okay.”


“This won’t take long.” He held the door open.


Sheridan hesitated on the threshold. When his hand grazed her sleeve, she gazed up at him.


He implored her, eyes dark with longing. “Please, Sher.”


Nodding, she stepped into the biting cold. Fat snowflakes fluttered to the salted pavement, dissolving on impact. “So what do you think of the weather?” She tried for neutrality.


“I’d rather be in front of a fire with the woman I love,” he replied.


She flinched.


He put a hand on her elbow, stopping them in the middle of the sidewalk. “Why did you leave?” Pain creased his features. “You never called. You barred me from your hospital room. Why, Sheridan? What was so bad you couldn’t tell me?”


She shrugged off his hand, intending to return to her shop. He reached out again and reclaimed her elbow.


She was wrong. She couldn’t do this. Being near him was just too painful, especially when all she wanted to do was rest in his arms. Sheridan shook her head. “No.”


When she stepped away a second time, he jerked her to a halt. “What was it?”


Tears puddled in her eyes, dangerously close to spilling over. She drew a ragged breath. “No, Matthew, not now.” She blinked hastily. “It’s too late for us. Just give me the papers, and I’ll give you your divorce.” The words tumbled from her mouth in a rush. She hitched in a breath, her heart thudding in her chest, her stomach flip-flopping.




He glared at her, and Sheridan realized she stunned him with her statement. He yanked her to him, the heat of his body chasing away the chill, the soft curves of her breasts pressing his hard chest. She didn’t dare breathe. He tightened his grip on her arms.


“Is that what you want?” He searched her face.


She couldn’t tear her gaze away. His eyes were wet, betraying the pain her words caused. Could she have been wrong? She couldn’t think with him so close. She curled her bare hands into the lapels of his coat. It would be so easy to lift to her toes and press her lips to his. He smelled so good, and she had missed him so much…and he hurt her.


She jerked from his grasp. “That is why you sought me out, isn’t it?”


He sighed wearily, dropping his hands to his sides. “No, Sheridan.”


She glanced at him. No divorce? Then what did he want? Wordlessly, she resumed walking toward the café, and he followed. He caught up with her in time to swing the door open. She hid a smile. Always a gentleman; it was nice to see Matthew hadn’t changed. A few moments later, they were seated in a corner booth away from prying eyes. Sheridan ordered a hot chocolate, and Matthew ordered black coffee. He picked up a menu.


She remained silent. Matthew wouldn’t wait to tell her why he’d come. He never minced words or had trouble communicating what was on his mind, whether telling her she was beautiful or when he asked her out on their first date. Always confident, the only time she’d ever seen him flustered was when he proposed to her four years earlier.


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Typing to the Beat #MFRWauthor WK 8

Music moves me, to laugh or sing or cry . . . is a line from a song I used to sing as a kid. This holds true today. I write by music and it varies depending on the mood I need to set. I’ve listened to Luther Vabdross’ If Only for One Night on repeat just to get the right sensual romantic setting for a scene in The Pick-Up Wife, or The mournful wail of a blues serenade to tug at the heartstrings in Seducing His Wife. 


Most of the time I used music with lyrics, now that my computer speaks to me, I prefer classical music or instrumentals. 


One group I could never write to was Earth, Wind, and Fire. There was just something about the groove of the group that put my muses to sleep. But, put on some Hollywood Undead, Marvin Gaye, Teddy  P, Keith Sweat or Alicia Keys and We’re typing to the beat. 


“Indulge Your Inner Romantic “



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