If Wishes Were Horses
by Joey W. Hill
Ellora's Cave
Sensual: Paranormal, Sensual: Contemporary
November 26, 2003
ISBN-13: 1843607026
Available in: e-Book
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If Wishes Were Horses
by Joey W. Hill
Sarah Wylde did not move from Chicago to a small town to get involved with a man. Particularly one like Justin Herne, a man far too mesmerizing and dynamic to be in a rural town like Lilesville. To make matters worse, Herne runs a sex shop in the unincorporated limits of Lilesville, and Sarah is Lilesville's new police chief. She doesn't care whether or not the locals call it a "women's sensuality shop" and that Herne is considered a respectable citizen. She's keeping her eye on him.
The only problem is, Justin is more than happy to stay within viewing distance. When a ritual murder draws them together on a case, she finds that maintaining a professional distance isn't going to be an option.
Other Books by Joey W. Hill
Joey W. Hill's Bio
I've always had an aversion to reading, watching or hearing interviews of favorite actors, authors, musicians, etc. because so often the real person doesn't measure up to the beauty of the art they produce. Their politics or religion are distasteful, or they're shallow and self-absorbed, a vacuous mop-head without a lick of sense. From then on, though I may appreciate their craft or art, it has somehow been tarnished. Therefore, whenever I'm asked to provide personal information about myself for readers, a ball of anxiety forms in my stomach as I think: "Okay, the next couple of paragraphs can change forever the way someone views my stories." Why on earth does a reader want to know about me? It's the story that's important.
So here it is. I've been given more blessings in my life than any one person has a right to have. Despite that, I'm a Type A, borderline obsessive-compulsive paranoiac who worries I will never live up to expectations. I've got more phobias than anyone (including myself) has patience to read about. I can't stand talking on the phone, I dread social commitments, and the idea of living in monastic solitude with my husband and animals, books and writing is as close an idea to paradise as I can imagine. I love chocolate, but with that deeply ingrained, irrational female belief that weight equals worth, I manage to keep it down to a minor addiction. I adore good movies. I'm told I work too much. Every day is spent trying to get through the never ending "to do" list to snatch a few minutes to write.
Despite all these mediocre and typical qualities, for some miraculous reason, these wonderful characters well up out of my soul with stories to tell. When I manage to find enough time to write, sufficient enough that the precious "stillness" required rises up and calms all the competing voices in my head, I can step into their lives, hear what they are saying, what they're feeling, and put it down on paper. It's a magic beyond description, akin to truly believing my husband loves me, winning the trust of an animal who has known only fear or apathy, making a true connection with someone, or knowing for certain I've given a reader a moment of magic through those written words. It's a magic that reassures me there is Someone, far wiser than myself, who knows the permanent path to that garden of stillness, where there is only love, acceptance and a pen waiting for hours and hours of uninterrupted, blissful use.
If only I could finish that darned "to do" list.
I welcome feedback from readers—actually, I thrive on it like a vampire, whether it's good or bad. So feel free to visit me through my website.