Thank you for having me on Fang-tastic Books, Roxanne. I’m excited to meet your readers.
I’m Rhea Rhodan, and I write romance with a touch of magic or paranormal twist. If you share some of my tastes—and I’m guessing you do because you’re here :>)—you love paranormal, fantasy, and maybe sci-fi TV shows too. I watched a lot of TV as a kid. Those old shows fueled my already-vivid imagination and offered great fodder for the stories I began telling myself even before I learned to read.
I thought it might be fun to make a list of my vintage favorites both for those of you who remember them, and those who missed them.
My Top 10 Old TV Shows with Paranormal Fantasy and SciFi Twists
10. Outer Limits. At my single-digit age when this show aired, I was way too young to watch anything that scary. I still am. Nonetheless, this one started it all for me.
9. Casper (The Friendly Ghost). Even though it leaned heavily on the saccharine side and I was a cynical child, I felt sorry for Casper, and definitely wanted to offer him my friendship. The stupid kids who were scared of him didn’t deserve his kindness.
8. I Dream of Jeanie. Another protagonist I felt sorry for. Poor Jeanie was on the slow side, but sweet, and the Major was kind of a jerk. I liked her costume and still wish I could travel by her cross-arms-and-nod method.
7. The Addams Family. I watched The Munsters too, but couldn’t shake the idea it was a dumb knock-off. Feel free to mock me in the Comments section below.
6. The Ghost and Mrs. Muir. Loved the romantic aspect, even then.
5. Bewitched. I wanted to be Samantha SO bad, even if she was married to that putz, Darrin (I never liked either one of them). I admired her mother, Endora, but Tabatha (her daughter) never really worked for me once she was no longer a baby.
4. The Immortal. My first-ever celebrity crush was on Christopher George. He was a REAL man, and as you can probably tell by now, I was picky.
3. Time Tunnel. I couldn’t wait for this one every week and was heartbroken when it got cancelled. I didn’t care that it was cheesy or each show’s plot was an awful lot like last week’s. I still have a thing for time travel. Outlander anyone? I was a fan of the somewhat more recent (and much better) Quantum Leap, too.
2. Star Trek. I’ve seen every one of the original and Next Generation episodes, most many times (wasn’t a big fan of its other incarnations). Gene Roddenberry’s imagination and gift for storytelling easily made up for the show’s limited production budget.
1. Twilight Zone. When I watch these now, they upset me because there’s seldom justice. Good people are punished willy-nilly. I’d dump an author who left me so dissatisfied. Yet this show took me past Outer Limits and into the great What If. For that, Rod Serling, all is forgiven.
These old shows continue to influence me. While writing and editing Melting Shadows, my new release, I occasionally thought I heard the theme music from The Twilight Zone—with good reason. And in the story, Max gets Prudence to watch some episodes of Star Trek with him.
Any dissenters? Shows you’d like to add to the list? New favorites?
Genre: Romantic Suspense, with a Fantasy twist
Publisher: Rhea Rhodan
Date of Publication: March 4, 2016
Page Count: 259 (Kindle)
Page Count: 342 (pb)
Word Count: 80K
Cover Artist: Fiona Jayde
When fantasy and reality collide, only love can be believed.
Shattered by a brutal attack and forced to flee, painfully withdrawn Dr. Prudence Marsh buries her emotions under numbing logic. For years, her escapes to a fantasy world created to survive her hellish past have been nothing more than a guilty pleasure. But when the host of the safe house turns out to be a dead ringer for her dream warrior, she fears she’s lost her precious mind along with everything else.
Ex-SEAL Max Delaney has been known to dabble in a hot, delicious mess—or two, or three. He has no idea how to handle a cold, sour one. Blackmailed into babysitting Dr. Marsh in his hidden bunker while she finishes a top-secret project sucks. Until he falls for her. Then it blows. Every clue Max unravels buys him more questions. Every step forward lands him two steps back, flat on his ass.
Demons past, present, and future haunt Max and Prudence as they stumble along the twisting path to love. Merciless enemies and shifting alliances drive both to desperate measures, tumbling them over the border between shadow and substance—where each must choose what, and whom, to believe.
He whispered praise in her ear, “That’s it. Now don’t you feel better?”
She shivered in response, though her hands at his back had warmed. He smiled into the fresh scent of her hair and wrapped her more tightly in his arms. She was his now; even if she didn’t know it yet.
With firm, subtle pressure, he brought her head to rest on his shoulder. Her hands tightened around him, then, finally, her body relaxed fully into his.
Her sigh was what did him in, what scrambled his brain and sent the jolt to his heart, then racing lower, hotter. He swallowed hard. Patience was suddenly a whole lot scarcer than it had been a minute ago.
The Balconies. Any one of the half dozen private patios facing the ocean would do. Each of the double doors was chaperoned by a broad back discreetly turned from the couples enjoying the seclusion they offered. It was one of the unique and best features of the club.
With experienced ease, he guided his plunder across the dance floor to the nearest unoccupied one. “You’re a bit flushed. Would you like some ocean air? The view is great.”
She blushed and murmured something indistinct he chose to take as assent. Another covert tip and nod to the bouncer—the same one who’d been at the VIP gate, still wearing the frown—and their path was clear.
The moon cast a diamond-strewn path across the water and glimmered in her depths of her eyes. He wanted to climb into that fire and stay there until Judgment Day.
After a few gulps of the salty night air, she said, “Thank you, Mr. Delane. I’m afraid the effects of the alcohol may have—”
“It’s Delaney." He squeezed her hand. “Calling me Max would solve the problem, you know."
“I’m still not certain I’m comfortable—”
“We can’t have that. I want you very comfortable.” He kept his voice low and soothing, ran his hands up her tantalizingly bare arms to cup her face. She gasped at his touch, her eyes widened and her lips parted.
He’d meant the kiss to be subdued, a simple brushing of mouths, and that’s how it started. But he couldn’t stop what followed. Couldn’t keep his hand from gripping the back of her head; holding it at the best angle for his access; from tracing her lips with his tongue and gently opening her mouth to accept it; prevent his other hand from roaming between the cool satin of her hair and the warm silk of her dress to the swell of her sweet, tight ass; squeezing it, and pulling her close. Close enough for her to feel the rock hard extent of his hunger. Close enough for him to feel the moist heat of hers—God help him with what control he had left.
Her arms circled his waist, her delicate, surprisingly strong hands pressed into his back, stroked, pulled at him in helpless, inexperienced little tugs that made him want to push up her dress and set her on the railing, wrap those long legs around his waist, and—
“Please, Delane.” The desperate ache in her plea squeezed him like a fist and echoed all the way to his toes. He shook with the effort to clamp down on his lust.
“‘Max.’ Say it, Prue. Say it and I’ll take you to paradise, sweetheart. C’mon,” he whispered it into her ear, then nipped it tenderly. Understanding why he needed that particular surrender wasn’t important, winning it was.
He slipped the hand on her ass under her dress, ran his finger under the lace of her panties, reached to stroke the hot velvet, teasing her, driving himself to the knife edge of desire.
A warning rush of overused air boxed his ears a few seconds before a shrill voice pierced them. “There you are, Max, darling! I thought this was our balcony. Remember? A couple of weeks ago we…”
Bam. Just like that, Prue froze in his arms. He opened his eyes and saw the shutters slam over hers, dousing the lighthouse, leaving him at sea in empty darkness.
About the Author:
Award-winning author Rhea Rhodan resides in Minnetonka, Minnesota. She’s been telling herself stories since long before she learned to write. She attended the University of Minnesota with a focus on Journalism, then Brown Institute for Broadcast Journalism. After many adventures, misadventures, and a couple of short marriages, she found the love of her life in Regensburg, Germany, and has been living happily ever after since.
She journaled those adventures extensively (some might say rabidly) beginning in middle school, but didn't combine her writing and story-telling until several years ago, when one of the stories grabbed her by the throat and shook her like a rag doll until she gave in and wrote it. Having tasted freedom, her muse refuses to return to the confines of her head, and has successfully turned the tables, keeping her at the keyboard to appease it.
She welcomes feedback and fan mail :>). You can join her on Facebook and Goodreads, too. Rhea is always happy to meet new friends.
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