Interview with Author Tina Proffitt

My guest today is author Tina Proffitt. Hello! Welcome to Writing in the Modern Age! It’s such a pleasure to have you here. 


Hi, thank you so much for inviting me on your blog today!
Of course!    
Can you tell us a little bit about your book? When did it come out? Where can we get it? 

His Hiding Place is the tender love story of Conrad Garrison, a Vietnam War soldier who needs a place to hide, and Nyssa Strange, a screenplay writer with several reasons to want her privacy, that's why she's moved into the Canadian woods where Garrison finds her. The book came out in December 2019, and it's available on Amazon in print and Kindle.


Is there anything which prompted this book? Something that inspired you?

The idea for the story was born out of a conversation I had with my teenagers. I wanted to try my hand at horror, and they encouraged me to do it. The original title for the book was going to be The House in the Haunted Woods. Up to that point, I'd only ever finished one Stephen King novel, Elevation, and it's not even scary! So, me writing a horror novel was probably not going to happen, especially since I call old black and white horror movies scary. Needless to say, no matter my intent, everything I sit down to write morphs into a romance novel, as evidenced by this book and every other one I've written. I can’t help it. I love romance novels, always have, always will. Thankfully, humoring my fascination with the mystical, especially reincarnation, is an indulgence afforded me by today’s reader and today’s market, which is wide open for experimentation. The only writing rule I follow is that my romances have a happy ending. I like them, and I think readers deserve them.

Too right! ;)

Let me ask a different question.

When did you know you wanted to write? Or has it always been a pastime of yours?
I knew I wanted to become a writer when I was fifteen years old. The author who inspired me was Jack Kerouac. I know that sounds funny coming from a romance author. But it was a research paper I had to write for my high school English class that led me to his name. It was then that I had this moment of realization — people get paid to do this! I knew then that's what I wanted to do. It was twenty years between then and when I wrote my first romance novel. The interim was spent getting my BA in Education, getting married, and having children.


Do you have any favorite authors yourself, Tina? 

Reading Elizabeth Lowell, Linda Howard, Karen Marie Moning, and Tami Hoag romance novels prompted me to finally pick up the pen. That was ten years ago, and I still love reading romance as much as I love writing it.

Happy to hear it!

Do you write in a specific place? Time of day? 

I always write first thing in the morning in the corner of my bedroom where an old television cabinet sits converted by my dear husband into a desk/bookshelf just for me.


Are there some words you'd like to impart to fellow writers? Any advice?

I keep quotes that inspire me taped to the inside of my writing space. I even keep inspirational fortunes from fortune cookies. My favorite quotes change depending on what kind of day/week/month/year I'm having. Right now, my favorite is probably the quote James Scott Bell included in his writing course titled, How to Write Best-Selling Fiction. I included it at the beginning of His Hiding Place

“The world is violent and mercurial. It will have its way with you. We are saved only by love, love for each other and the love that we pour into the art we feel compelled to share: being a parent; being a writer; being a painter; being a friend. We live in a perpetually burning building, and what we must save from it, all the time, is love.” - Tennessee Williams, 1911-1983.

Ooh, love it! There are so many quotes that inspire me too.

Thank you so much for stopping by to visit us here today at Writing in the Modern Age. It was wonderful having you!  :)

Readers, here is the blurb for His Hiding Place.

Conrad Garrison is a man on the run. A Vietnam War deserter, he has found his ideal hiding place, but to keep it, he must gain the trust of a woman who has been betrayed once too often. Nyssa Strange has the safest place a man could ask for, a cabin in the wilds of the Canadian forest. She falls for the beautiful stranger who invades her private world. Determined to help hide him from the authorities, she must find the courage to leave her safe space, and in doing so, save his two-year-old daughter from becoming an orphan, a child of the dust.

Purchase Link:


Universal Reader Link:

Here is an excerpt from the book.

Nyssa watched the man trudge through the snow towards the house.
Who was he?
True to the forecast, snowflakes, lit by the flame of her oil lamp, dropped intermittently against the inky black sky. As light fell across his face, she was stunned by its ruggedness.
Missy remained curiously silent by her side as the pair watched the man approach.
From her window she could see that he must have been a drifter for some time. His hair was long, touching his shoulders, and his face was covered by a beard. He carried the usual backpack on his back, probably full of food and supplies, and a bed roll and tent above it. Worn black boots, faded blue jeans, a white t-shirt beneath a flannel button down, and a green canvas coat came closer. Snow fell on his head because he didn’t wear a hat.
Her hand went around the barrel of her shotgun. She opened the door before the stranger had a chance to knock.
Missy still did not bark.
“Mrs. Strange.” His breath came in clouds as he spoke in a sweet, lazy Southern drawl. It had been a long time since she’d heard that accent, especially from a long legged specimen like this one. His shoulders took up the space of the door. His beard framed a pair of lips that looked soft. Up close, his dark, brown hair touched his shoulders and was wet from the snow. He smelled of pine trees and fresh air.
“How do you know my name?” She had to look up slightly to see into his symmetrical face.
His direct, penetrating gaze from a pair of startlingly blue eyes did not look away from her, and she was strangely flattered by his attention. There was something intense in those eyes that frightened her that had nothing to do with being all alone with him at the foot of her mountain.
When the man bent his long legs to pet Missy, the dog’s wagging tail gave her away. She knew him. That’s why she’d smelled of camp fire for the past few weeks whenever she’d returned home from her morning constitutionals. From his reaction to her dog, Nyssa got the impression that he was a kind soul.
“Missy seems to know you.” It wasn't a question, but an accusation.
The piercing ice blue of his eyes looked straight into hers.
“What can I do for you, Mr.?”
He stood. “Garrison.”
“How did you know anyone lived out here? This is private land.” Brenda always said that everyone in town assumed that Nyssa and her father had abandoned their house after the first winter, when most Yanks head back down South.
“I’ve seen you. You follow the same routine every day.”
“You’ve been watching me?”
He looked down at his coat covered in snowflakes. “May I come in?”
He wanted something from her and was brazen or at the very least unflinching in his desire to come inside. His urgency to do so stirred something in her gut that made her fear for her life, but she tried not to let it show. Instead, she rested her hand against the edge of the shotgun’s handle.  “Come inside and sit by the stove.” She tried keeping the emotion from her voice. “The fire is still going.”
She closed and latched the front door then moved ahead of him to the wood stove, reaching into the basket for the last piece of split wood, tossing it inside. With him here, instead of bundling up underneath her covers tonight, she would have to go back outside for more wood. The thought didn't sit well, but neither did the thought of another human being suffering.
He was cold though he didn't shiver, didn't shuffle his weight from one foot to the other, but held himself very still. For all she knew, he could be wearing thermals beneath his blue jeans and not feeling the cold one bit.
He stuck his hands towards the black potbellied stove.
By herself, she would take off her shoes in front of that stove and read. But not tonight. She could feel her shoulders lifting around her ears, tightening with the tension in her body.
She already assumed that he was an American soldier. They hid in the Canadian mountains to escape the U.S. military. He held himself like a soldier, and his Southern American accent was a dead giveaway. “Are you a drifter?” she said.
“I have a job.”
He sounded irritated by her question, but it was a legitimate one. Nyssa knew people sought asylum in Canada from crimes committed in the U.S.
He removed his gloves, and that's when she saw the cut on his hand. “You’re bleeding.” Instantly her heart began to pound as she scanned the rest of him for injuries. His clothing was intact with no rips. No blood stained him anywhere.
She didn’t know what to do first. She didn’t have a first aid kit in the house. Most of their medical supplies had been consumed when her father became ill and she'd just thrown out the rest.
“Get my rucksack.” His voice was calm, almost soothing, like he was speaking to a child.
Inside his fatigue green sack she found a hinged metal box with a red and white cross painted across the top. She knew without a doubt now. He was an American soldier. Beneath it, was a rope. Her heart skipped a beat then took up a hard, fast rhythm.
Why was he here? Was he just a deserter, a man whose emotions had run up against a bloody war? Was he hiding because he had murdered someone? Or had he left the United States because he couldn’t in good conscience kill anyone?
One way meant that she could trust him, and the other way meant that she should fear for her own life. If he had killed someone in cold blood, he could do it again.
“That’s it,” he said gently, directing her. “There are clean bandages inside.”
As she lifted the box with shaking hands, a picture fell out at her feet. Nyssa stooped to pick it up. “Who’s this?” she said, holding out the picture.
“My little girl.”

Sounds like quite a read! Add His Hiding Place to your Goodreads bookshelf, readers! :)

We'll be sure to check out this military romance

Get it now!

Author Bio

I discovered my love of writing at the tender age of fifteen where it would lie dormant until I began teaching. After completing a degree in Education from the University of South Carolina, I got a job teaching, then quit two years later to homeschool my children. I have written well over a dozen novels since then, romantic mysteries that involve the things that pique my interest. I love watching old black and white science fiction movies. I also love British television, especially mysteries and comedies from the eighties and nineties. Anything out of the realms of the ordinary or mysterious --  alien encounters, crop circles, standing stones, UFO sightings, ghosts, hauntings, reincarnation stories, and animal communication -- catches my attention, particularly where individuals have been marginalized as a result of their experiences.
I love to read medieval romance, mysteries, and anything mystical. And I love writing romance and romantic mysteries as much as I love reading them.
Along with my husband, I live in South Carolina where I share my home with our two children, three tabby cats, and a Bernese Mountain Dog. On Saturdays, you’ll find me spending the afternoon with my teenage daughter doing my favorite hobby, baking. I even have a blog where I share my most current favorite dessert recipes—Recipes from a Writer.
You can visit me on my Author Page on, on my Tina Proffitt Author page on Facebook, and on Pinterest to check out some of my research sources and inspiration for my books.
On, you’ll find giveaways for my books.
Visit my web page at


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