Can you tell readers a little bit about yourself and what inspired to write in this particular genre?
Hi everybody, I’m Krista Holle, a registered nurse by day and writer by night. I’ve always had an affinity for love stories and after the huge success of Twilight, it occurred to me that there are a lot of women and girls out there who secretly love romance just like me. I started furiously typing.
What inspired you to write this book?
I wrote The Wind Whisperer while living on land once owned by Pocahontas. She was a big inspiration to me. A lot of the elements in my Native American paranormal romance come from the local Powhatan tribe.
Please tell us about your latest release.
Anaii is a fifteen-year-old Native American girl with the ability to communicate with the wind spirits. As the story evolves, Anaii discovers her kinship to the wind is closer than she ever imagined. The story also revolves around a juicy love triangle.
Do you have a special formula for creating characters' names?
All the character names I used are authentic Native American names with the exception of Anaii my main character and Jayttin, the son of an enemy chief. I couldn’t find names that had the right “sound” to it, so I took some artistic liberties.
Is there a character that you enjoyed writing more than any of the others?
Actually I really enjoyed writing about Anaii’s guard, Makawee. While researching Native Americans for my book I read about a tribe that had a few effeminate men that were ridiculed by the manly men and loved by the women. They were flamboyant in dress and tender-hearted. These unusual men were my inspiration for Makawee. He’s a wacky guy.
Do you have a formula for developing characters?
I think it’s very important to know where you’re headed before writing a story. If you don’t you’ll likely hit a stone wall or spin in circles. I always start a novel with a loose character sketch.
Did you find anything really interesting while researching this book?
I probably shouldn’t be saying this, but I discovered that the early Native Americans weren’t romantic at all in the sense that we think. I once read about a warrior that returned home after a very long journey. When he and his wife first saw each other for the first time, they simply gazed at each other. That’s it—no kissing, just one long soulful stare.
What is the most interesting thing you have physically done for book related research purposes?
I attended a local Native American pow-wow. This gave me the reference I needed to describe some of the dancing that goes on in The Wind Whisperer.
Do you have any weird writing quirks or rituals?
I write with sound silencing headphones.
When did you consider yourself a writer?
I didn’t have the confidence to call myself a “writer” until I first became published in December 2011.
What are your guilty pleasures in life?
Vampire Diaries and obscene amounts of pizza.
Other than writing, what are some of your interests, hobbies or passions in life?
I love to collect seashells from all over the world. I also have four hormone filled daughters that keep life busy and very exciting.
What was the last amazing book you read?
What can readers expect next from you?
The Wind Whisperer can stand alone but it has a sequel that has already been written. You can expect A New Whisper sometime in fall 2014.
Where can readers find you on the web?
Would you like to leave readers with a little teaser or excerpt from the book? I’d love to!
I looked around cautiously before freezing at the sketchy outline of a muscular man partially hidden in the grass. A man! He was sprawled on his back and golden pink from too many hours in the sun. My heart pounded to see the unfamiliar pattern of a deer on his breechcloth. I had marched myself directly into the reach of a Zennite warrior!
I gingerly took a step backwards, but to my horror, the man’s black eyes fluttered open. I turned and hurled myself back across the meadow, just as the man shot up and flew after me like a predatory bird. My muscles burned and strained to lengthen the space between us, but getting away was hopeless. I was not a challenge to even the young boys in the foot races.
After a few powerful strides, the warrior tackled me to the ground, painfully grazing the skin on my cheek. I wheezed a few times before my lungs filled with air.
“A Chippoke?” he asked between breaths.
I feverishly punched and kicked to free myself. “Get—off—me!”
“Stop! I’m not going to hurt you,” the warrior chuckled as he struggled to pin my arms and legs. His voice was calm and pleasant, but lying was no different than breathing to a Zennite.
“I cannot promise the same,” I wheezed as I fought.
“You’re a bobcat,” he said with a laugh. “A bobcat with no teeth or claws.”
“Let me go!”
“I will when you’re calm.”
Strong hands held my wrists while his full weight pinned my torso against the earth. Fighting him was as useless as running. “You are not a boy,” I spat angrily, fully taking in my attacker. It was little comfort that he didn’t look like a bloodthirsty killer. He was admittedly handsome with an angular face and sleek black hair that hung well past his shoulders. He was not as tall as Elan, but his muscles were narrow and built for speed. There was something different about his eyes too. They were as black as soot—very unlike the brown woodsy colors from our tribe.
The warrior smirked down at me. “My mother will be very surprised to hear that. All this time she’s assumed…”
My face heated, but I fiercely met his gaze. The Zenni were like wild dogs and pumas—they could smell emotions. “What I meant was, you are a man, not a boy.”
“Oh, I see, but you must understand, I’m not a man yet.”
“You must understand I’m a squirrel! Get off! You’re hurting me!” I ordered with a useless heave.
“No,” he said with a smirk.
It was then I realized I might die—right after I was lulled into a false sense of security. My chest pounded as I searched for the killer’s weapon. “Are you going to kill me?”
“I do not feel like killing you just yet,” he said as his long hair swirled in my face. Were we to play a game before he killed me?
“I am glad the mood doesn’t strike you,” I snarled. The warrior studied me with a drawn brow. Was he guessing that I was the forest witch? I didn’t think I looked like a witch, but I wasn’t certain what one should look like—evil at least.
“I don’t understand something,” the warrior said. “Your eyes are blue—the blue of an angry sky. Are you the daughter of a god?”
“Yes,” I said, heaving against his weight again. “Now get off me, or my father Achak will strike you dead with lightening.”
The Wind Whisperer
At fifteen, Anaii is the most important member of her tribe—and the most mysterious. Ever since Anaii can remember, the spirits of the wind have whispered of fertile hunting grounds and imminent enemy attacks. But when her people are ambushed by a brother clan without any apparent cause, the spirits remain eerily silent.
As the village prepares to retaliate, Anaii is pressured by her best friend, Elan, to marry him. It’s an old plea—Elan has spent a lifetime loving her, but Anaii only sees a childhood playmate out of an imposing warrior. Stifled by Elan’s insistence, Anaii escapes into the forest where she meets Jayttin, the beautiful son of the enemy chief.
Enamored by Jayttin’s carefree spirit and hope for peace, she repeatedly sneaks away to be with him, but when her deception is discovered, Elan is devastated. Pledging his lifelong affection, Elan gives her a passionate kiss, and Anaii begins to see her friend in a new light.
While Anaii is tormented over which man she must choose, the wind whispers of a new threat that could destroy both tribes. Only a union will afford a chance at survival, but the reality of that union is based on one thing—which man Anaii chooses to die