Maeve Greyson

Clan Maxwell's Motto: Reviresco! (I flourish again)

2012-01-31T18:51:00.000-06:00

Our kilts arrived from Edinburgh today!

Win an ARC of ETERNITY'S MARK!

2012-01-23T16:51:00.002-06:00

Goodreads Book Giveaway

Eternity's Mark

by Maeve Greyson

Giveaway ends February 14, 2012.

See the giveaway details
at Goodreads.

Enter to win

Animal lover?

2012-01-06T18:42:00.000-06:00

In case you didn't know it, I love animals and more often than not; I tend to understand and feel a sense of acceptance from animals more than I do with my own "species". A friend of mine emailed the following pictures to me today and they gave me such a warm happy feeling --I just had to share. I don't know where these photographs originated but I'm grateful to whoever put them "out there" for all of us to enjoy.

Have a great weekend y'all!
:-)
Maeve

Where did THAT come from?

And he goes for the dunk!

Whaddya mean I've only got 5 more minutes?

Mine! Mine! Mine!

The professional cake taster was provided at no additional charge.

Ahh...nothing like one of those beds that conforms to your body.

Yaaawwwnnn...just lemme sleep a little longer, 'kay?

How's YOUR'S taste?

Maaa...I pwomise. I washed behind my ears! The sitter don't gotta do it.

Did you just call me SHORT???

Excuse me? Were you speaking to us?

More please?

But Mama - the ground is hot!!

Pardon me. Could you please ask the waiter to bring me a clean fork?

It's been a LOOOONG day!

Shhh...baby is sleeping.

Well dammit.

We'll hold him down while you run get help.

What do you mean you THINK you saw it run out the window?

It was like this when I got here. SWEAR!

A laugh, a smile, and a hearty THANK YOU in the form of a free book...

2011-12-31T10:37:00.001-06:00

It's been an awesome year. When I was a kid, I never understood when the "old folks" said that as you get older, time slips away before you know it. I understand fully now because I can't figure out how I happened to land on December 31, 2011 so quickly. I blinked and the year was gone. For this end of year post, I thought I'd leave you with a few pictures of how we laughed our year to a close. I hope they give you a smile too.

Oh! And the "thank you" I mentioned in the title. This year I took part in the Long and Short Reviews: Stuff Your Stocking Blogfest. Commenters were entered to win an advanced reading copy of ETERNITY'S MARK. http://lasrguest.blogspot.com/2011/12/stuff-your-stocking-blogfest-maeve.html If you happen to leave a comment on this post - I'll add your name to the pot. I'll draw the winner's name tonight right before 2012 makes its grand appearance.

Happy New Year, my friends. May 2012 be filled with good things for us all and the strength to defeat anything bad that might decide to nip at our heels.

Blessings to all,
Maeve

The cookie chefs. Cornflake cookies are sticky - but good!

Just squeeze it. Really. It'll be funny.

Of all the gifts the child received, the whoopie cushion was her favorite.

Oldest daughter & her new fiance. She's grown quite sassy since receiving that ring!

Youngest daughter LOVED her Thundercat's sword.

I'm proud to say I have my own personal elf. Life just doesn't get any better!

Calisa Rhose's HOME Countdown - DAY 2!!!

2011-12-30T06:00:00.023-06:00

I'm so pleased to welcome the very talented Calisa Rhose to my blog today. We're celebrating the release of HOME. I know readers are just going to love it. Welcome, Calisa!

Hi Maeve! It’s great to finally be here with you. I’ve so looked forward to sharing HOME with the world for so long that it seems like a dream now that the time has actually arrived!

Don’t forget to leave your EMAIL ADDRESS in your comment this week! Be sure to come to my BIG SALE PARTY on my blog on January 1, 2012!

Whistle! Confetti! Streamers!

So let’s get on with this countdown!!!!

DAY 2!!!

For your readers I brought a new excerpt from HOME to share! This from a scene where Sam is having a difficult conversation with his mother when Poppy shows up unexpectedly. I hope you enjoy this special peek!

TAG- What could a gypsy and a Vietnam veteran have in common?

BLURB- Silvertown’s outcast, Poppy Tippen, has loved football hero Sam “The Force” Callahan forever. But he never seemed to know she was alive. Now he’s home from the war and she suddenly finds herself comforting him from the demons of “that damn war.” Is his attention merely an escape from the haunting nightmares? Or does she hold the interest of the only man she’s ever truly loved?

Sam Callahan’s only solace from the war nightmares wrecking his life comes in the unlikely form of a gypsy girl with stigmas of her own. He’s known Poppy his entire life, but there’s something different about her now. Something special he desperately wants to hold on to. Can he convince her she’s the only thing he needs to put the past behind him?

EXCERPT-

Over the next week he actively avoided his mother as he raked and watered the lawn. He’d found out the gardener had left when his mother stopped paying him, not that Sam blamed the guy. So, he would try to do what he could to fix the old place up again. Somehow, like himself, he doubted the place he’d called home would ever fully recover the ravages of wartime. It gave him something useful to get through the days before he creeped out at night.

“Sammie, we need to talk.”

He dropped his head and counted briefly before facing his mother. “Good morning, Ma.”

“Have you talked to that woman?”

No nonsense, that was Ma. He dragged in a heavy breath to stifle a groan. “What woman would that be?”

“Don’t play games with me, Sam. You know full well I’m talking about that gypsy woman who owns the doll store. Did you tell her you want the doll back?” His mother threw hands to hips. He waited five ticks. Yep, there it was. Her left foot began flapping like a fish out of water to make known her full ire at him. He almost grinned.

As he stared at her tapping foot, Sam realized he’d actually missed that trait in his mother while he’d been gone. But she wasn’t interested in reflections of days past. “No. I’m not going to get the doll. It’s better off gone if it causes you so much distress. Just forget it and let it be, Ma.”

“Forget it? Haven’t you heard what I’ve been telling you? It will only cause more problems the longer that woman has it!” She was almost yelling and Sam cringed inwardly with a glance around. She ought to keep her voice down or—

Or, what? Did he expect the VC to pop out of the surrounding sticks that had once been shrubbery admired by the whole town? Yes. He did. Damn it all. Why was it so hard for him to let go of the war he was no longer a part of? He shuffled his loafer-clad feet and sighed heavily. “What’s so special about that doll that you won’t let it go?”

His mother looked away from him as though she had a secret and twisted her hands around her ever-present hankie. “It’s bad, evil.”

“Then, why on earth would you want it back? Good riddance, I’d say.”

“No!” She backed up a step and looked up at him, lips painted the same bright red, and he vaguely wondered if she’d worn it so long it had become permanent, a tattoo. A bright red tattoo. Blood red… “It was a gift from my cousin, Helen, when I visited her in California, before she died. I already told you that. But, it’s cursed! I can’t risk anyone else suffering because of that—that thing!”

Blood red… Sam shook the image off and looked over his mother’s head toward the street.

Of all the times to wander in, he didn’t need Poppy showing up right then, while his mother was on her insane rampage about a doll.

A doll that Poppy’s mother had bought fair and square, according to Ma. Now it was a cursed doll? She’d said something about that last time she mentioned the damn thing. He was suddenly afraid his mother was losing her mind. “Son of a bitch.”

“Watch your mouth, young man. I won’t have that kind of language used in this house. Your father—God rest his soul—didn’t use that filth, and I won’t have my only son speak it.” She sounded so normal, suddenly.

“Sorry, Ma. I need to go…somewhere, for a while.”

“Get the doll.” Her voice poured from that red mouth like a warning.

He leaned the rake he’d been using before the interruption against the wood shed and tossed a wave over his head to his mother as he strode for the driveway, and Poppy. Suddenly, it took all his will not to break out in a run and just keep going. Never to stop until he was far, far away from this new nightmare his mother had introduced to him. Blood red, blood. Red, blood, red, blood, red blood.

Sam didn’t stop when he reached Poppy, but grabbed her hand and swung her around with him—took her away before his mother realized who she was. He especially didn’t need her to see the doll shop owner’s daughter.

He picked up his already fast pace until he felt a jerk against his hand and slowed down. He didn’t want to talk. Not yet. Walk. Keep walking…fast.

“Whoa, soldier boy!” She yanked him to a stop. For a little thing, she was stronger than he’d have thought. “What’s with you? If I wanted to race I’d be a horse.”

Blood red. No talking. Walk. Her hand still in his, he gave a rough tug.

********************************

Get your copy of HOME at The Wild Rose Press and on Amazon.

Small-town country girl Calisa Rhose lives in a semi-remote area of Oklahoma with her husband, five dogs and one horse and a cat. All of her three daughters and their families live within throwing distance. She’s a member of RWA and the local chapter OKRWA. She intends to nurture and continue to grow as an author with the help of her family and supporters.

Find Calisa at her website/blog http://calisarhose.wordpress.com

On twitter @Calisa_Rhose and Facebook @Calisa Rhose

She loves to hear from readers so drop her a line at calisa.rhose@gmail.com

The day following the New Years Day party, on my blog, I will be giving away the first copy of HOME to one lucky commenter! The more you comment this week, it’s time to back track and make sure you got your name in as many times as you can, the greater your chance to win! You can find the full tour schedule on my website at the link above on my blog (chit-chat).

This has been great, Maeve!

LET THE HOLIDAY WARS BEGIN!!

2011-11-19T19:25:00.000-06:00

Every year hubby and I swear to each other that we won’t exchange gifts. Every year we both lie. This year will be no different and the battles have already begun.

Round One:

Hubby grins across the living room and says, “Just so you know, on Christmas morning, I’m probably gonna be in trouble.”

“What have you done?” was my immediate response. My inner Christmas-Giving-Beast whispered, “Ye know what he’s done, m’precious.” Yeah. I know. My inner Christmas-Giving-Beast sounds like a cross between Gollum from the LORD OF THE RINGS and Connor MacLeod from the movie HIGHLANDER.

I narrow my eyes at my gloating husband and prod again. “Answer me. What have you done and which kid helped you.”

Hubby’s smile widens. “I’m not tellin’.”

Round Two:

After interrogating both daughters, I force…er…enlist the oldest one into my ranks. After all, I’m a woman. We’re not even until I’m ahead. I make three purchases and have the items shipped to her house.

Round Three:

Hubby overhears phone conversation with oldest daughter and returns fire. Three unexplained debits show up on our bank account. Grrr…

Round Four:

Smaller purchase for Hubby arrives at the house –while he’s home. Curses! Foiled by customer service folk who refuse to listen to explicit instructions.

Round Five:

Arrive home from work to a suspiciously gloating husband. Christmas music is floating through the house and it’s not even Thanksgiving. He points me to the top of the china cabinet with a laughing, “Look what I did” smirk. Grumble…grumble…This isn’t over. This is just November. I will. Not. Lose!

May you all be winners in your everyday battles.

May you all overcome your adversaries and know the priceless joys of health, happiness and love!

Holidays: the perfect time for enjoying a brand new romance!

2011-11-09T04:45:00.197-06:00

I'm so thrilled to have my good friend, Beth Trissel over for a visit today. Not only is she a multi-published, award-winning author - but she bakes a delicious cookie too. Yum!

So, don't be shy. There's plenty of refreshments for everyone. And guess what? After you finish hearing about Beth's wonderful new release, Somewhere the Bells Ring, be sure and leave a comment along with your email because one lucky commenter is going to receive a copy of Beth's new read.

So, it's not only a great Release Day party - it's a chance to win a lovely escape from the "Oh my gosh - it's already the holidays" syndrome. Happy release day, Beth!

Thanks Maeve for having me on your lovely blog to celebrate my holiday release. Come one, come all. Kick back, enjoy mugs of hot chocolate and let’s break out the eggnog and the sugar cookies as we reminisce about those ghosts of Christmas past.

Nostalgia about the late 1960’s inspired the time period for my vintage American ghost story Christmas romance, Somewhere the Bells Ring. An adolescent in 1968, I remember it well. Think hippies, the Cultural Revolution, and Americans divided into two diametrically opposed camps, those who were freaky and those who were square. I’m glad to say I ranked among the former, eventually. The song “San Francisco (Be Sure to Wear Flowers in Your Hair)” came out in ”67 but exemplified the hippie movement still going strong in ”68. Fashion was all over the place and fishnet hose all the rage. I gloried in my first pair while wearing my Bonnie Bell lip gloss. Anything more than that makeup wise and my disapproving father said I resembled a lady of the night, and he wasn’t thinking vampire.

The maxi dress followed on the heels of the maxi skirt, which I was all about. Mom sewed several for me and I floated around like a princess. The music of the late 60’s was awesome. What a thrill when I first heard Innagadadavida by Iron Butterfly. Stunned might be a better word, but it definitely impressed me as did many other songs of that era. How about Aquarius!

Not to overlook the less positive elements of “68, like Vietnam and the tragic assassinations of Martin Luther King and Robert Kennedy. I was deeply sorry, but as a kid didn’t overly dwell on those. One of the top films of 1968 was Romeo and Juliette which stamped me as a romantic forever and brings me back to my release.

In addition to nostalgia about 1968 is my draw to an earlier time, 1918 and the end of WW1, the war to end all wars it was called and the one my Marine grandfather served in with distinction. In Somewhere the Bells Ring, Eric Burke and his predecessor Edward Burke returned home with injuries, both physical and psychological, from these two very different wars. Bailey, a hippie wannabe, seeks answers not only to where she belongs but to the mystery that spans generations in the old house where the story unfolds. Maple Hill is based on the gracious plantation home in my family that I grew up visiting over the holidays. And did I mention the ghost?

Blurb:

Caught with pot in her dorm room, Bailey Randolph is exiled to a relative's ancestral home in Virginia to straighten herself out. Banishment to Maple Hill is dismal, until a ghost appears requesting her help. Bailey is frightened but intrigued. Then her girlhood crush, Eric Burke, arrives and suddenly Maple Hill isn't so bad.

To Eric, wounded in Vietnam, his military career shattered, this homecoming feels no less like exile. But when he finds Bailey at Maple Hill, her fairy-like beauty gives him reason to hope--until she tells him about the ghost haunting the house. Then he wonders if her one experiment with pot has made her crazy.

As Bailey and Eric draw closer, he agrees to help her find a long-forgotten Christmas gift the ghost wants. But will the magic of Christmas be enough to make Eric believe--in Bailey and the ghost--before the Christmas bells ring?

Excerpt:

“Bailey.” He spoke softly, so as not to startle her.

She turned toward him. In her long, white nightgown, hair tumbled down around her, wearing that lost look, she bore an unnerving resemblance to the mysterious woman in Wilkie Collins’ classic mystery, The Woman in White. Eric fervently hoped the similarity ended there. As he recalled from the novel, that unfortunate lady had been unhinged.

Leaving the door ajar, he stepped inside. “We missed you at breakfast.”

She answered distractedly. “I wasn’t hungry.”

He limped to where she stood, the hitch in his leg a little less pronounced today. Maybe he was getting stronger. “Why are you here, looking for ghosts?”

“Or a door to the past.”

He tried to coax a smile to her trembling lips. “Did you check inside the wardrobe?”

“Eric, I’m being serious.”

“That’s what worries me.” Leaning on his cane with one arm, he closed his other around her shoulders and drew her against him. Such a natural act, and she accepted his embrace without pulling back. She smelled of flowers from her perfume and wood smoke. “Mercy, child,” he said in his best imitation of Ella, “it’s as cold as a tomb in here.”

“It wasn’t last night.”~

Somewhere the Bells Ring is available in various eBook formats at The Wild Rose Press and will travel onto Amazon kindle, Barnes & Noble’s nookbook and other online booksellers. For more on me and my work please visit:

My website: www.bethtrissel.com

My blog: http://bethtrissel.wordpress.com/

Twitter: http://twitter.com/#!/BethTrissel

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/bctrissel

Don't forget to leave a comment for a chance to win! Doesn't Beth's newest read sound like a great escape from holiday stress?

Fall festivals, dog strollers, and social skills…

2011-10-02T13:54:00.000-05:00

Fall is definitely my favorite time of year. Cool crisp days. Blazes of color. Cuddling around a bonfire with a steaming cup of coffee. *blissful sigh* This particular spoke of the seasonal wheel renews my soul.

And during this gorgeous time of year, daughter and I always enjoy our annual excursions to a multitude of craft fall festivals. Here’s one of the goodies she and I discovered during our most recent trip.

I always take Jasper along. He loathes being left behind and always behaves like the perfect gentleman no matter how many small children stop us and ask, “Can I pet your puppy?” Jasper has a wag of his tail and a sloppy kiss for each and every one.

He got a bit perturbed at me during this most recent trip. Look at this awesome pet stroller I found! I put Jasper inside, zip it shut and he rides around in style. Well. He rode around in style AFTER he glared up at me through the screen and telepathed some extremely foul words that I’d rather not include in this post. Jasper has this keen ability to let me know exactly what he’s thinking…and he wasn’t being very nice. I feel certain he called me some very choice names. After he finished making his opinion known, he finally settled down on the sheepskin pad and enjoyed the ride.

I also made another observation during this trip. Every young person I encountered from high school age and younger was the perfect example of a polite, considerate individual. Yes ma’am. No ma’am. Excuse me. Please. Thank you. All of them were a delight.

They were a direct contrast to some of the so-called adults I endured. Even though these individuals were my age and older, several of them pushed, shoved, snatched, grabbed and generally exhibited rude behavior that is unacceptable in a crowd.

Parts of the festival were quite crowded, shoulder to shoulder in fact. One older gentleman decided that it was more effective to push people aside and bellow, “beep beep beep - I’m coming through” instead of the more acceptable, “excuse me, please”. Those type folks have a bad effect on me. They tend to trigger an extremely uncontrollable urge to either “accidently” stick out my foot and trip them or suddenly find it very necessary to stick my bony elbows out as far as they will go.

So, bravo to the polite, well-mannered youngsters in this world. I did notice and I do appreciate how you made my day more pleasant. I rarely hear about you on the news. Only the bad apples seem to get the spotlight.

And to the rude adults? Shame on you – you know better!

Happy Autumn Everyone!

Reader? Writer? Guess what? Only two more days...

2011-09-28T18:36:00.000-05:00

Contact Elspeth McClanahan
Email: Promotions@MusaPublishing.com

Ebooks, Penumbra eMag, and so much More

Musa Publishing Opens its Electronic Doors

After months of editing, designing, contracting, and formatting Musa Publishing launches on October 1, 2011. The E-publisher opens with a large catalogue including Penumbra Speculative Fiction eMag, new works by three bestselling authors, and the full backlist of Aurora Regency, featuring traditional Regency romances and historical fiction.

Penumbra eMag http://www.musapublishing.com/index.phpmain_page=product_info&cPath=6&products_id=12

Penumbra's inaugural issue is a collection of speculative fiction stories that encompass the arts--the arts we love and revere. Some of these stories deal with the arts we're familiar with. Some create arts we haven't thought of and some resurrect arts buried in the depths of the past. And yet, all of these offerings celebrate the creative process, which makes them a fitting theme to launch Penumbra--an enterprise that will showcase the creative work of speculative fiction authors each month with a new collection of works within the genre.

New Works by

Gini Koch

The Martian Alliance 1: The Royal Scam

http://www.musapublishing.com/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=6&products_id=13

Things aren’t what they seem to be when Princess Olivia of Andromeda jumps aboard a spaceship to escape a loveless marriage.

Join the crew of the Hummingbird as they take on the rich, famous and sleazy of the galaxy. They're also on a long-term secret mission, so it's a good thing they're the best con artists, spacers, and roughnecks in the Milky Way, because they need all their skills to pull off this particular Royal Scam.

Cindi Myers

West with the Wind

http://www.musapublishing.com/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=8&products_id=19

More than gold awaits two lovers at the end of the trail.

Mariah Tate and her dog, Worthy, persuade veteran guide Campbell Jefferson to let them join his expedition headed to California. Camp can't say no to the beautiful widow, but his need to protect her soon clashes with her need to keep secrets. Mariah left more than bad memories behind in Pennsylvania and her growing attraction to the stoic but surprisingly sensitive Camp forces her to face up to the consequences of the choices she's made. Camp doesn't know what Mariah's hiding, but he's determined not to let the only woman who ever made him want to settle down get away. He pursues her across the prairies, through stampedes, Indian raids, desert drought and mountain snows. In the gold camps of California, Camp will discover Mariah's secret, and prove the love she wants most isn't out of reach.

And the return to writing after five years for USA Today Bestselling Author

Sharon De Vita

The Estrogen Posse http://www.musapublishing.com/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=2&products_id=20

"The Estrogen Posse is a hoot! I laughed, I cried, I couldn't put it down! For every woman who needs a pick me up, this is the book for you!"

Janet Evanovich, NYT bestselling author of the Stephanie Plum mystery series

Once upon a time Ellie Briotti had a quiet life as a suburban housewife.

Until…she confronts her wealthy husband Nicky about doing the pecker polka with another woman, and Nicky tosses Ellie out of his life like some misbehaved household pet.

Until…Gram Crackers, her dotty mother begins passing out house keys to homeless bums.

Until…Joey, her eleven-year old son starts on a new career path: breaking and entering.

Until…Rina, her best friend, a single, successful, entrepreneur learns she's about to become a mother.

Until…Candi, Nicky's 22-year-old mistress turns up murdered with traces of furniture polish on her bare backside!

A rip-roaring ribald mystery about a woman’s journey to discover what she really wants in life. Now, if Ellie can keep her son from becoming a second-story man, while trying to hide everything from the gorgeous cop who’s started sniffing around, Ellie might be able to get a new life.

That is—if she doesn’t go to jail for murder first!

Aurora Regency

Musa has acquired Aurora Regency and Aurora Regency Historicals. Within the next month over forty books in this line will be available to Regency and Historical Romance buffs to enjoy.

Stop by www.MusaPublishing.com check out the books already for sale as well as those coming soon. Over the next few weeks, Musa will offer literature geared for every reader's tastes. Musa aims to offer well written, interesting stories, all at a price that doesn’t bite into your check book.

“Hearts set upon song, spirits free from care”~ Hesiod

If you'd like more information about Musa Publishing, please contact Elspeth McClanahan at Promotions@Musapublishing.com or go to our blog http://musapublishing.blogspot.com/

He's at it again...

2011-09-23T18:58:00.000-05:00

Allow me to introduce you to "The Maeve-mobile". Yep. You guessed it. My greatest fan, supporter, and push-wife-out-into-the-crowd person is at it again. Namely: My Darling Husband - DH for short.

We bought our RV this summer. It's an integral link in our "five year plan". You see, DH and I are at the point where we're actually beginning to see the light at the end of the day job tunnel. That shining beacon known as retirement.

When we came across a good deal on an RV, we decided it was time to purchase our retirement home on wheels. Of course, DH said he'd drive it to all of my book signings when I became a rich and famous author. I joked by saying we could call it the "Maeve-mobile" and have my website and tagline painted on the sides.

Well. It's not paint. It's professionally done graphics by Satis-factions. (If you're interested in all sorts of promo, here's their link: http://www.satis-factions.com/graphics/graphics.htm They're uber-affordable.)

Anyway...I guess this will teach me to be careful what I joke about around the DH.

It puts ideas in his head!

On Alien Kittens, Writing Partners and Muses...

2011-09-19T04:45:00.013-05:00

I'm so pleased to welcome the very talented Lynda K. Scott and her alien kitten, Wookie to my blog today. Jasper has sulled up and worked himself into a royal snit about having Wookie over for a visit. But he's just going to have to get over it because I know everyone's going to love getting to know Linda and Wookie better. I know I have :-) Welcome Linda and Wookie!

On Alien Kittens, Writing Partners and Muses

I share my somewhat messy office with my alien kitten, Wookie. That's my favorite place to work because I can go in there, turn on the radio/cd player/tv and close the door! LOL The only one who's allowed to disturb me is Wookie but since she's my writing partner and muse, I suppose that's all right.

As I prepared to write this guest post, Wookie, who came to live with me when she was about 3 weeks old, asked, "Chrruupp?"

I answered that I usually begin somewhat ahead of the story's actual beginning. That way I can give a little back story or history for my characters or the plot. I know I'll delete it before I try to publish it because 1) I don't want to bore my readers 2) I like to start the story where the plot begins or as close to it as possible. Does that mean I never use any of that material? No. Sometimes I filter it in as a flashback or in the character's thoughts or simply as a one-to-three sentence bit of background. Sometimes I'll use it as a prologue (though it has to really be important to the plot before I'll do that.)

Wookie seemed impressed. If you've ever met a cat, especially an alien kitten, you know that to impress them is quite a feat. With a flick of her pointy ears and a feline smile, she asked, "Mwawww?"

What is the hardest part of the writing process for me? I had to stop and think. Getting the story idea is fairly easy. Many of them begin with dream sequences (yes, I have odd dreams and no, it's not due to something I ate, lol). And I love research, so that's never a problem. But, with that in mind, I think the hardest part of the writing process for me is to NOT include every single bit of information that I've learned during the book's research. I love research and I love learning and I'm sure most readers do as well because readers are some of the smartest people on the planet. But I know I can get off the plot path easily by looking for ways to incorporate each intriguing bit of data that I find. That's my burden and I have to fight it every time I sit down to write ;-)

Wookie wandered over to a tiny sparkly pink ball with a long silky black feather, one of the first toys I ever bought her. Her hand paw slapped the ball, moving it across the room. She pounced on it in one of those incredible alien kitten movements that spans several feet without even touching the floor. I've always thought it was typical of an innate anti-gravity that cats seem to possess. She looked over her shoulder at me. "Prripp woa?"

Well, yes, I've always read a lot of Fantasy or Science Fiction. In fact, Andre Norton and Isaac Asimov were my early favorites. Both are noted Fantasy/Science Fiction authors but they both often had romantic elements in their work.

Ms Norton's style was spare, not a word wasted. She had a graceful writing style that lured a reader in and keep them firmly attached to the book and the characters. She could build intricate fantasy worlds so real, you wished you could visit them.

Dr. Asimov gave his science fiction stories real people which is what fiction stories are about even while he provided sound science or quasi-science in measured amounts. He knew that too many dry facts would turn a reader in a sleeper ;-)

Looking back, I've never been able to confine myself to either Fantasy or Science Fiction. I like to think that what I've done is combined fantasy and science fiction with romance to get a genre I call Science Fantasy Romance. I'm not going to say that I created the genre or coined the name for it but that is what I write.

Science Fantasy lets me stretch my imagination. I love mythology and the fantastical. I love science. As I said on another blog I visited recently, my novels follow the Arthur C. Clarke quotation: Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic. Heartstone has shapeshifters who wield laser swords, fly space ships, and have interplanetary transporter-style locations. They heal/diagnose with 'magical' stones or by touch. Altered Destiny has aliens that resemble Elves, dragons, space flight, alternate time lines and other cool stuff ;-) My goal is to make the 'magic' real and the science plausible without sacrificing the story or the characters.

Wookie abandoned her toy to attack a cardboard box. If you could hear it, you'd think of a boxer beating a punching bag. When the box was satisfactorily subdued (I'm not sure what its crime was, lol), she daintily sat and wrapped her long plush tail around her feet and winked at me.

I thought back over our 'conversation' and realized it would be perfect for this guest post. Now you know why Wookie, the alien kitten, is my writing partner and muse ;-)

Where to find me on the web:

Website http://www.lyndakscott.com

To join my newsletter, send a blank email to: LyndaKScott-Newsgroup-subscribe@yahoogroups.com

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Heartstone
By Lynda K. Scott
Mundania Press
Science Fantasy Romance

Eric d'Ebrur is out of time. He must fine the legendary Heartstone and fulfill the ancient Gar'Ja bond he shares with the Stonebearer. But when he finds her, he discovers that love can be more dangerous than the Gawan threat. Eric can defeat the mind-controlling Gawan but will it cost him the woman he loves?

After terrifying episodes of hypersensitivity, Keriam Norton thinks she's losing her mind. When handsome shapeshifter Eric d'Ebrur saves her from the monstrous Gawan, she's sure of it. But insane or not, she'll find the Heartstone and, if she's lucky, a love to last a lifetime.

Available in print and ebook format
Buy Links: Mundania Press (use MP10 at checkout for 10% discount)
http://www.mundania.com/book.php?title=Heartstone

Amazon http://www.amazon.com/Heartstone-Lynda-K-Scott/dp/1606592335/ref=ntt_at_ep_dpt_3

Altered Destiny
by Lynda K Scott
Science Fantasy Romance
Available in ebook formats

Stranded on an alternate Earth, architect and Jill-of-all-trades, Liane Gautier-MacGregor must find her way back to her homeworld before she's enslaved...or falls in love with a man who is the exact duplicate of her ex-husband.

Devyn MacGregor's alter ego as the Reiver Lord is the only way he can fight the Qui'arel and their nefarious Bride Bounty, a tax paid with human females...until he meets the oddly familiar woman who claims he is her husband. And who sets in motion the rebellion that will either free his countrymen or destroy them.

Buy Links:
Amazon http://www.amazon.com/Altered-Destiny-ebook/dp/B00579FKFO/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1308920443&sr=8-1

Nook http://search.barnesandnoble.com/Altered-Destiny/Lynda-K-Scott/e/2940012882417

Smashwords https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/79552

Thanks for having me! If you are a member or join my newsgroup before Oct 1, you'll automatically be entered into a drawing for a beaded crystal heart pendant. (Sorry, you must be a resident of the USA to win the pendant but a non-USA winner will receive an alternate prize to be determined at the time of the drawing.) Contest Rules are available at http://lyndakscott.blogspot.com/2011/09/new-member-only-contest.html

My list of writerly pleasures...

2011-09-12T04:30:00.002-05:00

We’ve all seen lists of a writer’s woes:

1. Rejections.

2. Writer’s Block.

3. Grammar Godzilla’s.

4. Rejections. (Yes. I realize I listed that one twice. It’s a biggie.)

5. Writing Software FUBAR’s. (In case you’re not familiar with the acronym – it means: *Effed* Up Beyond All Recognition).

Anyway, you get the idea and if you happen to be a writer, I’m sure you can relate. But due to a very WONDERMOUS email I received a few days ago, I decided to make a list of a few writerly pleasures and the responses they evoke.

Typing “The End”. Immediate exhale, stretch numbed arms over head while flexing stiff and aching back.

Completing the wicked synopsis, pitch, and query letter for your polished manuscript. Relieved sigh, shut computer down and ransack kitchen in search of chocolate and coffee to replenish dangerously low levels of brain steam.

Email from targeted editor that just received evil synopsis, pitch and query. Email doesn’t begin with “Although the premise of your story sounds interesting…” Instead, it contains a short, crisp paragraph requesting a partial. Emit quiet writerly sob of joy. Save several copies of email to folders on hard drive, secondary email address, secondary server and iPhone so there is no danger of losing it and wondering if it was only a dream.

Email from same editor requesting a full. Same response as Writerly Pleasure #3. However, quiet writerly sob of joy is replaced with blood curdling whoop of HOT DAMN! that launches unsuspecting, napping dog into immediate attack mode and sets him searching for the intruder that caused the scream.

EMAIL/PHONE CALL OFFERING A CONTRACT. Dry mouth. Rapid heartbeat. Dizziness. If Writerly Pleasure #5 is in fact a phone call, I strongly recommend allowing the recognized number to go to voice mail so that you’re able to speak coherently when talking to your soon-to-be editor.

Completing edits. Happy, satisfied sigh. Gratitude for an editor who just helped “tweak” your book into an even better story.

Receiving email with the jpeg file of the proposed cover for your book. Another whoop of joy. Same napping dog reaction as in Writerly Pleasure #4 and same saving of this email as in Writerly Pleasure #3.

ARC’s (advanced reading copies) Have you ever hugged a book as though it were made of solid gold?

Holding your just released “baby” in your hands. Pet the shiny cover. Excitedly lick your lips. Smell the pages. Channel Gollum from Lord of the Rings. “M’prescioussss is sssooo pretty”.

In reference to Writerly Pleasure #7, look at my lovely cover for ETERNITY’S MARK (scheduled to release in April). Isn’t m’presciousss…I mean…*ahem*…isn’t it gorgeous?

And I'm sure you couldn't help but notice the gorgeous cover of my upcoming release from The Wild Rose Press, THE HIGHLANDER'S FURY at the beginning of this post. *happy sigh* *deep throaty writer's purr at the sight of both beautiful covers*

If you’re a writer, do you have any writerly pleasures you’d like to share? If you’re a reader, how does a shiny new book affect you? Hmm?

Welcome to a bit of my world...

2011-08-23T19:15:00.000-05:00

Be still.

Listen.

Open your heart.

Peace awaits.

All you must do is receive it.

~Maeve Greyson

I hope you enjoyed this glimpse into my lovely world and a peek at the friends who come to visit Jasper and me nearly every day.

An addiction OTHER than fiction...

2011-08-18T18:38:00.000-05:00

My name is Maeve and I’ve recently developed another addiction. No. It’s not shoes. I already admitted to that one long ago. Nope. Not purses either. I’ve had that addiction since I was a child.

It’s sparklies. Yep. You guessed it. I must’ve been a crow in a previous life because I’m now channeling that feathered thief’s insatiable need to line my nest with precious pretties.

This uncontrollable need for the lovely temptations first stirred while I attended RT in Los Angeles. I happened to stroll past Kay Sturm from Oh So Fine, Inc.’s table and what should I spy? Dragon jewelry.

I must admit that I’ve become a bit besotted with the exotic creatures and have come to the conclusion that the awesome beasts bring me the very best of luck. You see, the Draecna of my upcoming Brava release, Eternity’s Mark, are close cousins to the mythical beings and resemble dragons in many ways.

The gorgeous dragon and sapphire blue crystal necklace and earrings called out to me as I walked by the table. “Maeve. Touch us. Feel the weight of us in your hands. Know that we long to lie cool against your warm skin.” Now tell me the truth. Who could hold out against such a seductive whisper?

While wearing my lovelies to work, my uber-talented friend, Shelia Moore admired them. I call Shelia uber-talented because she’s quite an artist when she’s not squirreled away in the midst of the gray cubicles of the accounting department. She actually MAKES jewelry! Imagine my inner crow’s delight when Shelia examined my necklace and said, “I think I can make a bracelet that will match.” And she did! Look – isn’t this GORGEOUS?

When she presented it to me, I asked her how much she wanted for it. I know her supplies can’t come cheap and she’s always “creating” something. Shelia makes all sorts of necklaces, bracelets, and lovely bits of jewelry. If she can dream it, she creates it.

She shrugged and smiled as she straightened it around my wrist. “Nothing. I just made it for you.”

I asked her again...after all, I didn’t want to take advantage of a friend.

“No. Really. It's yours."

Well, I couldn't just take her gift and not give her something to show my gratitude. So, I asked her if it would be okay to post her work of art on my blog.

She smiled again and agreed. She also added, "I’ve got a Celtic necklace that might look good on there too.”

Here’s the necklace she fashioned. Aren’t the garnets lovely? Needless to say, I bought the necklace from her. I couldn't let a bit of Celtic jewelry escape!

I think my wonderfully talented friend is going to be an awesome resource for giveaways to readers. I know she could make some to-die-for book thongs, necklaces, bracelets, etc. Like I said, if she can dream it, she makes it. I’ve just got to figure out what I need and give her plenty of lead time.

By the way, if you’d like to get in touch with Shelia to get a lovely creation of your own, here’s her email addy: sjmoct@hotmail.com She’s one of the most talented jewelry artists I’ve ever met and if you’ve got an idea for a unique creation, I bet Shelia could make it a reality. And even if you don’t have any ideas – Shelia can help you. She's got loads of her own!

So, come. Revel with me in our harmless addiction. After all, don’t you think there’s a little bit of crow in all of us?

Whaddya mean SUMMER IS OVER???

2011-08-05T19:32:00.000-05:00

You know that old saying "Time flies when you're having fun"? Well. It's true. I've also decided it tends to speed up quite a bit as you get older. It seems like I remember my grandmother saying, "One of these days, you'll blink your eyes and you'll be an old woman just like me. Enjoy every minute as it comes and don't wish your life away." Wise woman, my grandmother.

Yes, I guess summer is almost over. It's August and here in Kentucky, it's time for kids to go back to school. Thoughts shift to the inevitable turn of the seasonal wheel, the promise of cooler days, changing leaves and the excitement of fall festivals.

But before summer leaves us completely, this post celebrates some of the fun we shared.

Do you have any summer memories to share?

Do you believe in Animal Magic?

2011-06-21T18:40:00.000-05:00

After this past weekend – I do. Allow me to give you all the facts and then see if you don’t agree.

Both our daughters are grown and our “grandbaby” is already seven years old. With everyone’s hectic schedules, we rarely have the opportunity to be together at the same time and we’ve become increasingly aware of how quickly the years slip by. So Hubby and I decided to take a couple of days off and enjoy a lovely mini-vacation with our girls. We’re lucky enough to live fairly close to Santa Claus, Indiana and we’ve always enjoyed our visits to Holiday World. It’s a nice clean family theme park complete with not only the usual delightful rides but also a water park and even more convenient: an air-conditioned kennel for the family pet.

What could be better than taking a couple of vacation days off from work, loading up the camper and heading to Indiana for a long weekend filled with fun?

Well. Apparently, Jasper decided otherwise. You see. He overheard us discussing the air-conditioned kennel at the park. I admit it. We don’t consider Jasper a dog…and he doesn’t consider himself a dog either. He’s one of the family, holding the same rank as the kids – although, they’ll be the first to tell you that Jasper rates higher than anyone.

We didn’t want to leave Jasper cooped up in the camper while we spent Saturday and Sunday at the park. So Hubby called Holiday World and got a complete rundown about the kennel because we also weren’t about to entrust dear Jasper to just any old establishment. After considerable checking and reassurance from the park’s staff, we decided we’d give it a try – with the understanding that if we arrived and it didn’t look to be up to Jasper’s standards, then he and I would go back to the camper. Jasper and I both are old and set in our ways. He hates to be left alone and I’m loathe to put him through it unless I’m positive he’ll be okay. I know. I’m hopeless. But he loves me anyway.

Bear with me. I’m getting to the part about the magic.

We arrived at the campground safe and sound on Friday night, a little concerned because the forecast mentioned a slight possibility of rain on Saturday, but surely it wouldn’t storm all day and it was supposed to be sunny on Sunday. It would be a great weekend enjoying all the rides.

Wrong. Intermittent thunderstorms is code for: rains and blows like hell all day long. No theme park on Saturday. We would’ve drowned.

While playing Yahtzee in the camper, I teased everyone stating that Jasper had dodged the “kennel” bullet on Saturday by conjuring up the storm. One of my daughters laughed, shook her finger at Jasper and told him he was still going to go to “jail” on Sunday because we were going to the park!

She shouldn’t have done that.

Sunday morning at about 6 a.m., a fierce storm blew through the campground, uprooted two trees and knocked out all the power in the area. Yep. Jasper used extra fairy dust on that one. How dare we threaten him with a kennel! The deluge continued throughout the morning. We admitted defeat and folded up camp BEFORE Jasper obliterated the place off the face of the earth. I figure we packed up at least twenty pounds of Indiana mud and brought it back to Kentucky.

Needless to say, we didn’t visit Holiday World this weekend and Jasper “missed out” on the promise of an air-conditioned kennel. I’m also pretty sure I heard him snicker as we left the campground and turned our rig toward home.

He did see fit to allow us to visit the local water park on Monday while he slept at home on the couch. I guess all that conjuring wore him out. And he is pretty fond of the grandbaby so, he didn’t want her to suffer for the grown-up’s error in judgment.

So what do you think? Was it coincidence that it stormed and Jasper escaped the kennel or did he conjure up his own idea of a perfect weekend: his damp little body snuggled against mine for three solid days?

Irony...

2011-06-04T12:47:00.000-05:00

Wikipedia defines irony as follows:

Irony (from the Ancient Greek εἰρωνεία eirōneía, meaning dissimulation or feigned ignorance)^[1] is a rhetorical device, literary technique, or situation in which there is a sharp incongruity or discordance that goes beyond the simple and evident intention of words or actions. Ironic statements (verbal irony) typically imply a meaning in opposition to their literal meaning. A situation is often said to be ironic (situational irony) if the actions taken have an effect exactly opposite from what was intended. The discordance of verbal irony is created as a means of communication (as in art or rhetoric). Descriptions or depictions of situational ironies, whether in fiction or in non-fiction, serve a communicative function of sharpening or highlighting certain discordant features of reality.

Other types of irony:

Comic irony: Irony that is humorous (whereas much irony is not)

Dramatic irony: When the audience (or reader) knows a fictional character is making a mistake, because the reader has more information than the character.

Tragic irony: A type of dramatic irony. In tragic irony, a character's actions lead to consequences that are both tragic, and contrary to the character's desire and intentions.

Historical irony: A kind of situational irony that takes a long period of years for the irony to become evident.

Socratic irony: When a person asks questions, pretending not to understand, to lure the interlocutor into a logical trap. (Socrates, in Plato's dialogues, was a master of this technique.)

But I think an incident that happened to my daughter this week illustrates it much better.

Youngest daughter is at the left of the picture. She's a hard-working mom who attacks life at warp speed, often reminding me of a hummingbird by the way she buzzes in several different directions at once.

She's married to her polar opposite. My son-in-law is patient and calm. If he'd come with a description label attached, it would read: slow and steady wins the race. Nothing rattles him.

Son-in-law also works the night shift. So every afternoon before leaving for work, he picks up my granddaughter from the sitters and they share a bit of quality time before he delivers her to my daughter's office. This quality time usually includes stopping by the local convenience store and allowing granddaughter to make a selection from the candy counter along with a choice of her favorite slushy drink. Sounds innocent enough, right? Heh heh heh - wait'll you hear the REST of the story.

Oldest daughter (in the right side of the photo) calls me the other day and asks, "Did you hear about sis and the chocolate?"

I replied, "No. What are you talking about?"

A wicked giggle bubbles out of my phone. "I'm not gonna tell you. Just call her."

Youngest daughter answers my call and when I ask her about the chocolate story, she informs me that my son-in-law has just used up his last free token.

Oh lord. What's he done now? Poor son-in-law. They've been married almost a year and are still "finding" the perfect balance in their relationship.

She reminds me of the daily treat trips to the convenience store and then she regales me with what happened when she returned to the office after meeting a client for lunch.

Daughter drives a smaller car and since she had a passenger, she plopped her purse in the backseat for the trip back to the office. It just so happens she was wearing one of her favorite light-colored skirts - the one she'd splurged on even though it wasn't on sale.

She and her client arrived back from lunch. I should preface this by saying it's now a typical hot and humid summer day in Kentucky with the temperature pegging well above ninety degrees. Anyway, she parks the car, pulls her purse out of the back seat and plops it in her lap to better access the bottomless pit housing cell phone, make-up and other necessities. When she opens the car door and picks up her purse, a large brown puddle is centered in her lap. Her client flinches, points and says, "What IS that?"

Daughter wrinkles her nose as she sniffs. "Oh my gawd...it's chocolate."

She hurries inside, plops her purse in her office chair and stomps to the restroom to try and pry the quickly hardening confection off her skirt before the chill of the air-conditioning permanently sets it. After scraping as much of the muck as she can off her high dollar skirt, she returns to her desk, picks up her purse and discovers her chair is now puddled with the sticky sweet mess.

She roars, "Arghhhh!" then lifts up her purse to discover a part of the wrapper to the chocolate bar stuck to the bottom of her purse along with at least a remaining pound of chocolate.

She texts my still sleeping son-in-law, "If you EVER buy the baby (Yes. She's seven but all of us still call her "the baby") a chocolate bar in ninety-degree weather again, I am going to DIVORCE you!"

It appears that granddaughter had only nibbled one corner off the super-sized treat before nodding off and letting the rest of the bar come to rest in the back seat of the car. The CLOTH covered back seat of the car.

The irony? My daughter has always HATED chocolate. Yes. I know. I've never understood it either but the child can't even stand the smell of it. Now, every time she gets into her car - the lovely fragrance of mocha wafts all around her.

At least my son-in-law did have enough sense NOT to laugh. If he'd laughed, we'd probably still be looking for his body. And I know my daughter. We NEVER would've found it.

Superstitious or just plain crazy?

2011-05-06T08:53:00.002-05:00

My family thinks I’m nuts. They’re loving and supportive but 99% of the time they shake their heads in amused pity whenever I share my revelations.

For instance, if you’ve ever met me or seen my image somewhere on the web, you’ll notice my hair is long. It falls down my back about even with my shoulder blades. At one time, it was much longer but I had to chop it off for safety reasons. I kept catching my braid in the car door whenever I slammed it shut. Don’t think THAT won’t jerk you right off your feet. Whew! Anyway, I relented a bit and now keep it trimmed to the safe “can’t get caught in the car door” length.

One day, while brushing my hair, my granddaughter asked me why I didn’t cut it. At the tender age of six years old, she’d already formed the opinion that OLD people were supposed to have short hair trimmed well above their ears. I told her I couldn’t cut my hair. If I did, I’d never be able to write another story because my hair held the magic of words.

My daughter snorted and shook her head. “Mom. You are crazy.”

I shook my finger at her and reminded her of Samson and Delilah. Crazy? Maybe. But I won’t cut my hair short –just in case.

And then there’s this thing I have about dreams. My family tends to fuss at me about my health –or they used to until I informed them that I’ve got a pretty good idea of when I’m going to die, stop fussing over me, I’ve got it covered. THAT stalled their nattering about my should and shouldn’t “do list”. My oldest daughter took the bait and asked how I knew when I was going to die and would I mind sharing the date with them?

I informed them that I have a recurring dream that is more real than any other dream I’ve ever had. In the dream, I’m about eighty-seven years old. (And I might add that I look GOOD) The way I know my age in the dream is because it always starts with a picturesque wall calendar opened to the month of January in the year 2048.

Deep snow covers the ground and I’m upset because I can’t find my little dog. I bundle up, grab a walking stick and forge off into the woods, determined to find my four-legged friend. I’ve walked those woods many times, both in reality and in my dreams, but this time seems much more difficult because of the brutal cold. I finally find my yapping little dog at the base of a sprawling oak. The massive tree grows alongside a washed out gully, its roots exposed and hanging over the creek bed like long arthritic-knotted fingers. The dog won’t come to my call. Not unusual. Every dog I’ve ever loved has always tested my patience. Anyway, there’s something up under those tree roots that’s much more interesting than me. So, I start down the slippery embankment to retrieve the hard-headed little scamp. Yep. You guessed it. The snow and ice layered atop the clay embankment ignore the pointy end of my walking stick and sling me to the base of the gully. I can’t get up. I vaguely remember a painful throbbing in my right hip. It’s funny. Anytime I have the dream, my right hip is always sore the next day. Anyway, I manage to roll myself up against the washed out wall of the embankment because huge fluffy snowflakes have started falling again. First, I’m cold and shivering but then I suddenly feel a delicious drowsy warmth and exhale one last soul-releasing breath with my little dog clutched to my chest. Then I wake up.

Yep. She informed me I was crazy –again.

I told her that if I’m wrong and I die sooner or later than age 87, she can do the “I told you so” dance.

Combine all of the above with the fact that when I write I always wear amethysts and my silver Celtic bracelet. I firmly believe the amethysts help me focus and my bracelet brings me luck. In fact, I usually wear my Celtic bracelet every day. When I don’t, I seem to always end up having a bad day.

So, what do you think? Am I superstitious or just plain crazy? Do you have any quirks…*ahem*…superstitions you’d like to share?

And to think I didn't want to go?

2011-04-19T19:05:00.000-05:00

I admit it. The idea of flying to Los Angeles, CA and attending the RT Convention TERRIFIED me.

I don't fly well. Motion sickness and claustrophia make getting me inside an airplane a lot like shoving a cat in a water barrel. I'm also not very good with crowds. Writer = shy + introvert + quiet (squared & multiplied by a thousand). But everyone told me I NEEDED to go. And in my heart - I knew they were right. So with dramimine and barf bags in my carry-on - off I went to RT with Hubby standing right behind me to make sure I didn't bolt.

*Happy Sigh* And now I'm so glad I went. I'll remember those few days for as long as I live. I thought I'd share a few pictures here on the old blog. Some have already been posted on my Facebook page but I thought I'd repeat them here. Yes. I know. But please indulge me. After all, I don't get out very much. ;-) Above you'll see the contestants for Mr. RT 2011 (and me). They were all extremely nice

And here's a picture Stefan Pinto signed for me during the Kensington Mixer on Friday morning. I loved his sense of humor. He was handing out pins that read "Stefan Pinto is my boyfriend" and before my husband realized what Stefan had done - there was a "boyfriend" pin attached to his shirt. Before Stefan put the pin on my husband's collar, he'd whispered to me, "Watch this. It will be very funny." I couldn't help giggling when Hubby asked what the pin said.

I'm proudly displaying my "Kensington Author" ribbon. It all seemed like a wonderful dream. But I've got the ribbon as proof it was real.

I have absolutely no idea what I said after Alicia Condon announced my Writing With the Stars win. I was still tingling from hearing her say that ETERNITY'S MARK would be a Kensington Brava April 2012 release. *Gasp* When I returned to my seat, I asked Hubby if I said anything stupid. He assured me that I didn't. I also asked him if I'd thanked everyone. He said, "Yep. Everyone except me." I felt SO bad but by the way he grinned from ear to ear, I knew he realized how much I appreciated and STILL appreciate all his support.

My AWESOME mentor, Rebecca Zanetti. She helped me more than words could ever describe.

Kensington editor Megan Records. SUCH a wonderful person and I wish I had a tenth of her energy.

The rest of the pictures pretty much explain themselves. And I couldn't resist including one of the smartest RTr's of the bunch...especially since I was missing my writing partner, Jasper.

If you EVER get the opportunity to attend an RT Booklover's Convention, don't pass it up. It's like a huge family reunion for true lovers of wonderful tales.

How a heart-breaking revelation gave birth to a touching romance...

2011-04-15T05:02:00.000-05:00

I'm delighted to host the talented Mona Risk today. She's written an intriguing post and I won't waste any more of your time with unnecessary intro. I know everyone knows Mona!

Adopting Foreign Babies

If you sort through magazines, you are sure to glimpse a picture of Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt and their brood of children, three natural and three adopted from Cambodia, Ethiopia and Vietnam. I know a couple of young doctors who adopted a boy and then a girl from Russia ten years ago. Their children are healthy and fully adapted to the American way.

But I also heard horror stories about children adopted from Russia by delighted couples who later found out their new children were terribly sick, or suffering from AIDS or diabetes.

During one of my business trip to Belarus, I visited my driver’s wife, Oxana, at the hospital after she gave birth to their baby girl, Anastasia. Upon learning that local hospitals couldn’t afford to provide substantial meals to the patients and distributed only soup, bread and sausage for lunch and dinner, I went with the new dad to buy healthy food and vitamins for the new mother. She chose me to be her baby’s godmother.

One day, I was stunned to see her breastfeeding a different baby, and then another. During the week Oxana spent at the hospital after her delivery, the nurses brought her seven different babies to breastfeed. Yes, you read it right. Seven. She explained that these were babies abandoned by their single mothers. My heart broke at the sight of these babies who would soon be sent to overcrowded orphanages and I used that information in my novel.

In my new romance, Rx IN RUSSIAN, my heroine, the American Dr. Jillian, is faced with a terrible dilemma after she helps deliver a baby girl and the mother absconds leaving the baby behind.

Rx IN RUSSIAN is available at TWRP and Amazon in print and ebook.

An American Pediatrician

A Russian Surgeon

A woman who lost a son and her illusions about marriage and family.

A man with four adorable sons who badly need a mother

Can attraction and love overcome guilt, duty, and a clash of cultures?

“Mona Risk writes heroes with heart, heroines with spunk in stories and settings that are simply unforgettable!" -- Roxanne St. Claire, Killer Curves, National Bestseller.

Excerpt:

“Single mothers abandon their babies every day in Belarus.” The nurse raised her hand in a fatalistic gesture. “Last month, seven women delivered and ran away the next day leaving their newborns behind. A sad situation. Very frequent here. You will get used to it, Dr. Burton,” Olga said with a sigh.

“No, I won’t.” With a tremendous effort, Jillian controlled the quivering of her lips. A mother abandoning her child? Jillian strove to grapple with the situation, but a wave of bitterness welled in her heart. She would give anything to have her son back. In Haiti she’d forced herself to toughen up and remain neutral every time the Red Cross sent an abandoned baby to a shelter.

“What are you going to do?” Jillian asked Fyodor, who’d remained unusually quiet, his arms crossed, a piece of paper crumpled in his fist.

“Incredible.” His gaze flitted from the newborn to Jillian. He was upset, all right, but she couldn’t read his thoughts.

“Yes, it’s sad. Abandoning her infant to fate.”

“There is more.” Fyodor flapped the paper and cursed with barely restrained anger.

“What? I hope she didn’t leave a suicide note?” Bile rose in Jillian’s throat.

“No. She says she is giving you her daughter.” He scowled at the piece of paper scribbled with the plea he’d just translated.

“Excuse me?” Jillian squinted, sure she’d heard him wrong.

“That is what she has written here.” Fyodor waved the paper. “Dr. Burton. Natasha yours. Take to America.” Although he read slowly, pronouncing every syllable, the words refused to sink into Jillian’s befuddled mind.

Do you know couples who have adopted foreign babies? How are the parents and adopted children fairing?

If you like to travel and love to read, come and enjoy my international romances. I will take you around the world through stories that simmer with emotion and sizzle with passion.

BABIES IN THE BARGAIN winner of 2009 Best Romance Novel at Preditors & Editors and winner of 2009 Best Contemporary Romance at Readers Favorite.

Rx FOR TRUST, winner of 2010 Best Contemporary Romance at Readers Favorite and 2011 EPICON.

Rx IN RUSSIAN just released by TWRP

Learn more about Mona here:

http://www.monarisk.com/

Warm Weather Wars

2011-04-02T13:11:00.002-05:00

The exploding blossoms of the crabapple trees lace the warm spring breeze with a soft floral sweetness. Butterflies can't resist the delicious temptation waiting at the center of the flowers.

But don't let this soothing, birdsong-filled scenery fool you. Don't let the tinkling sound of the wind-chimes lull you into a relaxed complacency. With Spring, with the first greening of the leaves, the warm weather wars begin.

Jasper knows it's time to track those irritating varmints. He's watched them from his perch on the back of the couch through the winter-frosted window. They're the ones who've hidden in the shed all winter long, teasing him when they skittered into unreachable corners behind the barrels and tools. The wood flooring reaks of their furry little bodies. He snuffled their tracks until he shook with the cold, grumbling with frustration when finally forced to abandon the chase and return to the warmth of the house. He knew the enemy lurked in the shadows, snickering as he stomped out the door.

They've moved to the woodpile, tempted by the birdseed and corn scattered for all to enjoy. He's forced one to dart into a rotted log of the wood.

The evil beast took refuge atop the woodpile and chittered victory from his safe perch among the logs. But Jasper is a seasoned warrior and didn't give up without scoring a final hit in this battle. While keeping his gaze fixed on the squirrel, he sauntered over to the low-slung watering trough, hiked his leg and "spiked" the enemies drinking water. Let the warm weather games begin!

It’s true. He is my “better” half…

2011-03-05T17:59:00.000-06:00

Have you ever had one of those weeks where everything you touched turned to crap? You know the type. Each day something new falls apart or some other trial rears its ugly head.

I just had one of those weeks. To quote the words of “my better half” –my week sucked out loud.

But then everything changed. Isn’t it amazing the difference a thoughtful action can make?

When I arrived home from work, Hubby told me, “Change clothes, we’re going out.”

I glanced down at my comfortable jeans and tee shirt, sucked in a weary breath and asked, “Why?”

“Because you need this and I said so,” he replied.

Hubby’s known for his to-the-point blunticity. It’s one of his more “endearing” qualities. I don’t bother arguing with him, I’m stubborn but I’m no match for his tenacity. However, I can’t give in without a bit of a fight –so I give him the trademark eye roll and exasperated sigh, then stomp off to change outfits.

He laughs. He knows round one is his.

Clothes changed, hair and make-up touched up. I slide into the car and ask, “Where are we going?”

He sounds like our six-year-old granddaughter when he grins and replies, “I’m not tellin’”

I give another eye roll accompanied with an irritated snort.

He chuckles and chalks up his win for round two.

We park at the end of a vaguely familiar street. I fix him with a narrow-eyed glare. “Are we going where I think we’re going? That spot’s just for anniversaries.”

His face lights up with a blinding smile. “You need this. Now, hurry up. We’re late for our reservations.”

We walk through the door of the empty restaurant. The maitre d’ smiles and nods at my husband as we enter. “Everything is just as you requested, sir.”

The smiling gentleman guides us through the candle lit dining room to a cozy elevated table in the corner. A dozen long-stemmed, blood red roses in a lovely crystal vase grace the center of the table.

I tear up. Hubby smiles and pats my hand as he slides into the booth beside me.

I don’t even mind that he just won the entire match.

Congratulations to the lucky winners!!!

2011-02-24T03:00:00.006-06:00

Congratulations to Cathy M. She won the signed ARC of FATED from Rebecca Zanetti's blog. Rebecca has already contacted her for more information regarding her prize.

and

Congratulations to Ruth for winning the digital copy of BEYOND A HIGHLAND WHISPER from Happily Ever After Thoughts blog. If Ruth will go to my website at http://www.maevegreyson.com/ and use the contact button to let me know her email address, I'll get her copy to her right away!

Thank you both for taking the time to visit the posts and commenting on the blogs! Rebecca and I both hope you enjoy your new reads. :-)

Creating Memorable Characters with Jill James

2011-02-23T04:45:00.108-06:00

It's the FINAL week of the month-long blog tour. Commenters this week are up for a weekly prize worth $40 and/or a Grand Prize worth over $50! Topic this week - Developing Unique Characters. My wonderful guest is contemporary and paranormal romance author, Jill James. Don't forget! The more blogs you hit and the more comments you make: the BETTER your chances to win! Here's the rest of the stops on the tour:

Find me at http://www.ajbooks.blogspot.com/
Meet author AJ Nuest at http://amielouellen.wordpress.com/
Meet author Lynne Roberts at http://authorjenniferjakes.blogspot.com/
Meet author Amy Corwin at http://lynneroberts.blogspot.com/
Meet romantic suspense author Kat Duncan at http://amycorwin.blogspot.com/
Meet contemporary YA an adult romance author Linda Kage at http://www.jilljameswrites.com/
Meet paranormal, and historical romance author Caroline Clemmons at http://www.katduncan.net/writeabout
Meet historical and paranormal romance writer Lilly Gayle at http://lindakage.blogspot.com/
Meet Amie Louellen, author of fun and whimsical contemporary romance at http://carolineclemmons.blogspot.com/
Meet erotic western historical author Jennifer Jakes at http://www.lillygayleromance.blogspot.com/

And now...here's Jill!

Memorable characters are a necessity for a memorable story. Think Gone with the Wind, and Scarlett and Rhett come instantly to mind. Think of the Harry Potter series and each of those children is a full-fleshed person.

When I start a story, I always begin with the hero and heroine. What they want in life and their flaws are what make them real to me.

Their wishes, their dreams, and their method of getting them are what make them memorable. What are they willing to do to get their fondest wish? What are they willing to give up reaching for their dreams?

Their flaws make them human, make them seem real. Will they step on people in their climb up the ladder of success? Are they willing to risk everything to get what they want? Is there a step they won’t take, a risk they aren’t willing to take? Are they strong or hardheaded? Are they smart or a smartass?

When I started Tempting Adam, I knew that Yvette Giardino would be a hard-hearted businesswoman, that she would do anything in the name of corporate raiding. But why she needed to do this; for the care of a loved one, is what made her real to me. Anyone can understand how far someone will go for his or her loved one. It is a universal need.

To me, that is what makes memorable characters.

Jill's latest release TEMPTING ADAM is available NOW:

They both want the same thing – St. Eden Studios.

Corporate raider Yvette Giardino intends to bring St. Eden Studios to its knees. It’s a job. One her grandmother’s health depends on. That Adam St. Eden will suffer isn’t personal. Until he awakens her sympathy and stirs her body in ways she can’t explain.

Adam wants one thing and one thing only – to protect the dream his grandfather began. But when the board demands he work with stunning Yvette, a woman he’d mistakenly indulged with in a little after-hours play, his world turns upside down. Missed meetings, unhappy clients, and nights of intense pleasure – he can blame one person. Yvette.

With his corporation crumbling around him, can Adam rise above the fallout and see his sexy temptress for what she really is – a victim of manipulation and a woman who desperately needs his love?

Excerpt:

Yvette pulled herself together with a jolt.

It’s a job. It’s a job.

She repeated the mantra in her head in an endless loop, gazing into deep, blue eyes. This close, she noticed the subtle lines near his eyes from his outdoor living. If he had grown up in Hollywood, he would have had a facelift or two by now, instead of the natural look he pulled off quite well.

Adam helped her rise, his warm hand cupping her elbow. A tingle shot from her arm, to her chest, and to regions much farther south. A sexual moan almost escaped her lips. Yvette shook her head to clear the mental images of her and him and the hotel room. It didn’t help. Memories of that night still had the power to stir her senses. They hit Yvette in a place she didn’t think existed—her emotions.

His eyes darkened to indigo, and he leaned nearer. His fresh, evergreen scent enveloped her. Her head swam, and she tilted on the heels of her shoes. She berated herself for her juvenile behavior, unable to believe the She-shark of business might have met her match. At least in the sexual arena.

Adam wrapped an arm around her shoulders, led her to the bench outside the door, and sat beside her. “I hope you’re doing okay. I would’ve found you a seat inside, but they were getting back to work. I didn’t want anything else to delay the work schedule.”

Disbelief flooded Yvette while she replayed what had just happened. She needed to get a grip on herself and this job. Adam was nice enough overall, and was great—make that fantastic—in bed. However, he was no ruthless businessman and knew next to nothing about Hollywood. He wasn’t the first CEO she’d taken down, and he wouldn’t be the last.

It wasn’t personal.

Find out more about Jill and her books here:

Website: http://www.jilljameswrites.com
Blog: http://www.jilljameswrites.com/blog
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Jill-James-author/172814579396783
Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/jill_james
Group Blog: http://www.trulymadlydeeplyromanceauthors.blogspot.com

Tomorrow is the big day!

2011-02-21T05:00:00.000-06:00

I'm thrilled to have Kensington Brava author, Rebecca Zanetti visit my cyber home. She's a pretty busy lady these days because her much anticipated release day is almost here. Tomorrow, FATED hits the shelves. You'll be able to get your hands on her fresh new twist to a sexy vampire read.

Poor Rebecca. She's kind of my guinea pig with this interview. I've never really done one before. But I figured it would be all right. You see...she's my AWESOME mentor in the Writing With the Stars Contest. Without Rebecca's great advice, guidance, and understanding, I would never have made it to the Final Round. But enough about that - on to the interview:

Maeve: Tomorrow's the big release day for FATED, Rebecca. How have you been holding up as you get closer to the big day?

Rebecca: Thanks so much for having me here today! I’m so excited for the release! A wonderful specialty wine and gourmet food store called the Gourmet Way has offered to throw a launching party with a wine tasting and several giveaways. The press will be there and a local radio station is doing an interview the day before. Though I need to get back to work afterwards. I’ve been really busy with guest blogging and promoting FATED, so I need to buckle down soon and work on HUNTED, which is book three in the series.

Maeve: I love following a series. I'll look forward to collecting them all. Okay, Rebecca. You're not only a talented author for Kensington Brava but you're also a lawyer and a college professor. (The wife and mother roles are no less important but I'm trying to stay focused here.) How did a professional in what some would consider a quite somber field end up writing sizzling hot vampire romances?

Rebecca: Great question! (And thanks for all the kind words!) You know, the most successful lawyers and professors I know are the most creative. Linear, logical thinking needs some very creative tweaking to appeal to anyone listening to you, whether it’s a jury or a class full of college students. And to be honest, I’ve always been a bit on the fringe of anything sober…vampires are a good fit.

Maeve: There's sometimes a certain stigma attached to the romance genre. I believe the term "trashy romance novels" is one phrase that tends to follow us around. Do you attempt to keep your roles separated for those who don't realize how much talent it takes to spin a delicious tale that entertains your readers?

Rebecca: Nope, no way, not a bit and no how. I don’t feel the stigma. If it’s out there, I either don’t see it or subconsciously disregard it. I love romances. I’m fine with people who don’t. But this is what I write, and facts are facts. And yes, I’m sure my students will be giggling next month after reading FATED because hey, it’s a bit steamy. Though I bet they’ll buy book 2, CLAIMED, when it comes out in November. ;-)

Maeve: A giggling student is a happy student. You're making their lives more pleasant. So, tell us...what triggers your plot bunnies to start wiggling their ears? Music? Art? People-watching?

Rebecca: Yes. All of the above. I also live in my head a lot, and stuff percolates there. Sometimes I have to remind myself to get out of there and interact…but now at least people think…hey, she’s a writer. She can be eccentric. That’s better than people getting irritated because they think you’re not paying attention.

Maeve: I'm going to be sure my husband reads this. Now, he'll know "part" of the reasons why he's sometimes ignored. Tell us a little bit about FATED. Everyone's anxious to hear more about your book.

Rebecca: Like any romance, FATED is about two people falling in love and figuring out a way to stay together. It just so happens that one is a vampire and the other a single mother trying to protect her daughter from a multitude of dangerous destinies. Throw in a virus created to specifically harm the vampires, a whole lot of steamy sex and genuine emotion, and I think you have a fast paced, breathtaking read.

Maeve: FATED sounds like a MUST READ to me. Is there anything else you'd like to add? Do you have any words of wisdom or questions for your readers?

Rebecca: I’ve been asked the magical formula for selling a book to NY from people who have great ideas for books. There isn’t a formula. But without question, the first thing you have to do is sit down and write until you have a finished book. There’s no way around that. Sure, classes and workshops and books are great in preparing you…but they’re also a way to put off writing because hey, you’re working on your writing career. If I could give anyone advice, it’d be to start WRITING now.

Maeve: I think that's excellent advice, Rebecca and thank you so much for visiting my blog today. Now guess what, folks? Rebecca has agreed to give away a signed copy of FATED to one lucky commentor who correctly answers the following riddle:

Since Rebecca is my interview guinea pig today, I asked her if she likes carrots. She said yes but she liked this food item better. It's green. It's often found in martini's. It's sometimes stuffed with pimentos and it's actually a fruit. What does Rebecca like to gnosh on better than a carrot?

To learn more about Rebecca Zanetti - visit her website here: http://rebeccazanetti.com/

For all you folks who love to shop online (like me!) here's a couple of links to find FATED:

http://www.amazon.com/Fated-Rebecca-Zanetti/dp/0758259239/ref=cm_lmf_tit_9_rsrsrs0

http://search.barnesandnoble.com/Fated/Rebecca-Zanetti/e/9780758259233/?itm=1&USRI=rebecca+zanetti

Don't get caught up in the "what if" game

2011-02-18T16:45:00.000-06:00

February 18, 2011. Friday. A BIG day for me. I’ll always remember it. You see, on this wonderful day in my little world, I became “real”. My paranormal romance with The Wild Rose Press, BEYOND A HIGHLAND WHISPER launched into the world. Yay! It is released!

*Happy Sigh*

And then I start playing the “what if” game. I hope most of you aren't like me. I hope you’re so self-assured that nothing ever shakes you. But if you're not, then you know exactly how the game goes.

A wicked little voice whispers in your ear and nibbles away at any amount of self-esteem you ever thought about having. The voice plows through your fields of imagination, sowing noxious, stinging weeds.

1. What if nobody buys my story?
2. What if somebody DOES buy my story but doesn't like it?
3. What if I don’t get any reviews?
4. What if I DO get reviews but they’re bad ones?
5. What if I don’t do enough promo?
6. What if I do so much promo everyone cringes when they see my name?

You get the idea. I honestly believe in a previous life, I was a little dog who raced in circles snapping at his own tail. What will I do if I ever catch it?

Luckily, my husband and two daughters are all accustomed to this behavior. They shake their heads, roll up a newspaper and swat me. “Snap out of it! Look at everything you’ve accomplished. When are you going to start believing in yourself?” You should hear them. The way they harmonize this mantra is very impressive.

I tell them I'll probably always be this way. Childhood demons and old habits die hard. Besides. Believing in me is THEIR job. I'm lucky they do it so well.

And since they are so very supportive, for their sakes, I will do my best to stop playing the "what if" game. I'm going to trade up and don a new and improved "whatever will be...will be" mindset.

So. If you’d like a wee taste of my new story, here’s a bit for you to enjoy:

Beyond a Highland Whisper excerpt:

However, tonight Latharn was different. He didn’t go any further then the hungry possession of her mouth or the desperate, crushing embrace. Nessa sensed he needed this night to be different. His body tensed beneath her touch, he restrained his caress as if he wanted her to reason rather than just shatter into mindless bliss.

He raised his head and gazed into her eyes. Nessa flinched at the depths of pain and frustration etched in his face. He struggled, trying to communicate, to connect with her deepest emotions without the use of words. He took his palm, flattened it against his heart then placed it upon her chest. His brows drawn together in a questioning frown, he tilted his head and waited for a sign that she understood.

Her lower lip quivered at the very obvious gesture. Nessa whispered and covered his hand with hers. “Are you telling me you love me?” Her whisper caught in her throat.

One corner of his mouth pulled up into a relieved smile as Latharn nodded and brushed his lips across hers. He took a deep breath as though steeling himself against his own deepest fears. He took her hand and repeated the heart touching gesture from her chest to his. Then he raised a brow and awaited her answer, anxiety filling his eyes.

A lone tear escaped down her cheek as Nessa stared at her hand splayed upon his broad chest. “You know I love you,” she murmured with a moan. “I just wish that you were real.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, pulling her into his arms to cradle her against his chest. Holding her close, he stroked her hair as she gave way to tears.

Enjoy your days, my friends, and remember - whatever will be...will be! :-)

Buy Links:
The Wild Rose Press: http://tiny.cc/l68th
Amazon: http://tiny.cc/55d9j

How to Wine and Dine a Mermaid!

2011-02-16T05:00:00.064-06:00

Guess what folks? We’re in for a double treat today. Author Marsha A. Moore is not only giving us a glimpse of her great new release but she’s also sharing a tempting recipe. So, welcome Marsha to my little corner of cyberspace. I’m so glad you could be here today.

Thanks lots for having me on your blog today, Maeve! It’s one of my favorite places!

During the winter of 2008-9, I moved my mother from NW Ohio to Tampa. It didn’t take much to convince me to stay through the winter to help her get settled before I moved my own household the following summer. My first Florida winter inspired me to write my fantasy erotic romance book, Tears on a Tranquil Lake, which just released February 1st.

I was delighted to feel the tropical vibe seeping into the local atmosphere, and it inspired my writing. From my first visit to the Caribbean, I was hooked. I love the culture, the sway of steel drum bands, the colorful cottages, the turquoise waters, soft sand, sun, rum beverages, spine-chilling voodoo …and mouth-watering seafood dishes.

My heroine in Tears on a Tranquil Lake, a mermaid named Ciel, learns to appreciate a variety of different seaweeds and kelps, but also loves dining on shrimp. The pirate captain who attempts to woo her away from her merman, wines and dines her with candlelight dinners of gourmet-prepared fresh fish like amberjack. The pirate ship’s head galley cook, Dogbone, is certainly talented!

Recently, my husband and I enjoyed our first vacation in three years—a week in the Florida Keys. The move had kept us way too busy for vacations, so this was a real treat. We discovered a great fresh fish dive in Key Largo called The Fish House, which was recommended by a Florida travel magazine. The décor was 1970s tacky, but the fish was to die for. When we came home, we were thrilled to find our favorite recipe from that restaurant online, Fish Matecumbe. Then, my husband and I recreated the magic of our vacation in our own kitchen, which I’m happy to share today with you all. May it bring you a taste of the Keys, its warmth and happiness.

Fish Matecumbe

1/2 Spanish onion, chopped
1 (8-ounce) jar capers
5 shallots, peeled and chopped
5 tomatoes, chopped
1/4 cup chopped basil leaves
1/2 tablespoon salt
1/2 tablespoon ground black pepper
2 lemons, juiced
1 cup olive oil
8 individual Mahi Mahi fillets
Salt and pepper
Serving suggestion: rice

To a medium bowl, add all ingredients except fish and stir to thoroughly combine. Refrigerate until ready to use; it is best to let flavors blend for at least 1 hour in the refrigerator.

Preheat the broiler and position the oven rack so that it is at least 4 inches from the broiler, but no more than 6 inches.

Place fish fillets on a baking sheet and then season fish with salt and pepper. Place under the broiler and cook until done on 1 side. Watch carefully, as it may only take a couple minutes, depending on the thickness of your fish fillets and the proximity to the broiler. Remove from broiler and turn each fish over. Top each fillet with about 1/2 cup sauce. Return to the broiler and cook until fish is done on the other side and fully cooked through in the middle. If you are unsure about doneness, cut into the center of 1 fillet; it should be opaque. (You can cover up the cut with the sauce.) Serve with rice, if desired.

Recipe from The Fish House
Key Largo

I’d love to have more good fish recipes and so would Ciel! Please tell me about your favorites.

Tears on a Tranquil Lake

Blurb:

What a surprise for a young woman, to find herself suddenly transformed into a mermaid.

Ciel’s first thought – track down the merman who changed her and make him reverse his magic.

Unable to find him, survival in her new world becomes paramount. She eagerly accepts help from a dashing pirate captain who takes a fancy to her, lavishing her with finery. When her merman does show up, he competes for her affection. One look into his eyes makes her life more complex -- he is her soul mate.

Which man will she choose – pirate captain or merman? Which life – human or mermaid? Caribbean adventures and dangers chase Ciel as she searches for decisions and the key to her happiness.

Warning: This book contains Haitian vodou, sultry wenches, foul-mouthed scalliwag pirates, overindulgence of fine Caribbean rum, and amorous encounters on deserted beaches.

Excerpt:

On deck, a conga drummer joined the musicians from two nights ago, entertaining us with some lively salsa tunes. The deck hands sang and shouted, rhythmically pulling at the rigging on the halyards, raising and lowering sails that propelled the ship out of the Bay.

With so many distractions onboard I failed to pay attention to sights the ship passed. Only when a large rock formation came astern on the portside did I see Meris seated on its peak, level with the schooner’s deck. He looked regal with his muscular flipper draped across the rocks and his emerald green tail fin fanned out wide, glistening in the sunlight.

I held out an arm and he lifted his open palm up to me. I bent far over the gunwale, wanting desperately to bridge the short distance. Forgetting everything except my desire to be with him I leaned farther, somehow believing I could swim through the air to reach him.

“No, Ciel! Stop!” Meris shouted.

Immediately, arms grasped me tight at my waist and pulled me back behind the railing, and then I perceived the dangers below. I would have fallen perilously near the hull, or crashed upon rocks in the narrow passageway. I glanced behind to see Black Sam holding me.

“No, lass, ye can’t dive here.”

Undaunted, I turned my attention back to Meris, whose position passed away from me as the schooner progressed. I squirmed free from Sam, and moved aft as quickly as I could, using the gunwale for support. Our bond throbbed within my heart.

For more about Marsha follow these links:

Website
Blog
Twitter
Facebook
Goodreads
Publisher: http://museithotpublishing.com/
ISBN: 978-1-926931-29-6
Purchase Link

There can be only one...

2011-02-14T06:06:00.001-06:00

There can be only one…No. I’m not talking about the Highlander movies –although I was a fan of both the movies and the TV series when it was still on. I’m referring to a much more personal “quest”. One I’ve been chasing since July 2010.

Wow. That sounds like forever-ago. And judging by the obstacles I've tackled over the past few months: WIP's, promoting, and networking…it was forever-ago.

I’m talking about the Kensington Brava / RT Book Reviews Writing with the Stars contest. Yep. You guessed it or may have already heard me yodeling from the woods in the tip of Kentucky.

ETERNITY’S MARK made it to the FINAL ROUND. Voting starts today and on February 27th, the round will end, the votes will be counted and it will all be over. Finally.

LOL! I hear many of you muttering Thank gawd! She’s finally going to be done with that persistent vote begging. Trust me, my friends; if you know me at all, you know that’s been the most difficult part of this contest.

And guess what? There’s a twist! Instead of two of us vying for that coveted brass ring –there was a tie for second place at the end of Round Four. So, I’ll be battling against not one talented author –but two.

We’re down to the wire and it’s almost over. Thanks to all of you. Thanks to your votes, comments, support, and most of all –your patience, ETERNITY’S MARK made it to this level. Whatever happens, I hope you all know how much your help has meant to me.

But now is not the time to rest. I need your help one more round. Please go to the link below and cast your vote for ETERNITY’S MARK. I must warn you, this round is the love scene…and yes, my entry is sizzling hot. It’s not erotic romance but it is explicit and I would definitely rate it somewhere in the gray area between PG-13 and R. If you’d prefer not to read such a love scene, I completely understand. Your friendship means more to me than a “vote”. That’s why I wanted you to know up front and not be surprised when you went to the link. Thanks again for all your help and support! Here’s the link to help me bring home the win:

http://www.rtbookreviews.com/content/writing-stars-vote-love-scene

There can be only one...

The Simple Life? Bring it on!

2011-02-12T06:00:00.029-06:00

Please join me in welcoming the very talented Nancy Lee Badger today. I'll not "hog the floor" a moment longer because I know you're going to love her post just as much as I did when I first read it. Take it away, Nancy!

The Simple Life? Bring it on!

The simple life. It is a lifestyle I have wanted ever since graduating college. No more class schedules, no more homework assignments, no more missing fun adventures because of a lack of money. Little did I know what hardships lay ahead.

I married Richard, a man I met in college, and we honeymooned on Prince Edward Island. Getting there was a struggle. We left our reception in Plymouth, New Hampshire and headed toward Bangor, Maine. Part way there, a horrific rainstorm made us pull into a restaurant parking lot. We could not see enough to drive safely through sheets of rain, in the growing darkness. The restaurant was empty and the server was talkative. When she found out were just married, the entire staff appeared. We enjoyed fine food, congratulations, and a cherry farewell once the storm eased.

We had not planned to stop there. I am glad we enjoyed the simple, but heartfelt Maine welcome in that small restaurant. A simple sidetrack on a momentous day meant more than the uneasy, sleepless wedding night spent in a hotel filled with conventioneers and cops. (That is another story)

I think about that day often, though my husband of thirty-four years might not believe me. It was a simple day, spent with family and close friends, and I could not wait to start our life together. Simply planning our future as man and wife took on a completely new light. We were legally joined, worked at low-paying jobs, lived in a tiny apartment, but we followed our hearts’ desires.

After buying a house, raising two fantastic sons, and moving to the warmer climate of North Carolina, I have found my dream job: writing full-time. I am older, wiser, no richer—money-wise—yet I look forward everyday to the simple life. I write, edit, pet my cat, and plan vacations my husband and I can enjoy while I gather ideas for another book. With my camera and notebook packed alongside medications, eyeglasses, and dry shoes, we venture here and there.

One such annual trip is to the New Hampshire Highland Games held each September in Lincoln, NH. We volunteer under the Information tent, sell raffle tickets to raise scholarship funds, and greet thousands of visitors. But, I find time to take photos, interview visitors and other volunteers, and make notes. When I walk in the midst of men and women in full Scottish dress, I snap photos. I always take a break to visit the sheepherding trials, the military encampment, and the historic village. As I watch the re-enactors and photograph their paraphernalia, my mind is busy churning out ideas. DRAGON’S CURSE came about by watching these people. It is a historical paranormal set on a Scottish island. DESTINY’S MOUNTAIN, my romantic suspense, takes place in the mountains of New Hampshire. Autumn leaves begin to show themselves while we are at the games, and I used the surrounding White Mountains as backdrop for that story.

Simple pleasures and new sights give authors ideas. Why not keep a notebook handy? Carry your camera and watch for things that you might want to recall when fleshing out that next plot. Yes, the internet and library are great tools when you need to gather research for a story, but real life experience can’t be beat, even if it’s only a walk in a park or a hike through the mountains.

The simple life? Bring it on!

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Nancy grew up on New York’s Long Island, then attended college in the beautiful mountains of New Hampshire. She volunteered as an EMT/firefighter on their small fire department then worked for the State of New Hampshire as a 9-1-1 Emergency Medical Dispatcher. Retired from public service, Nancy now writes full time, lives in North Carolina, and is a member of Romance Writers of America, Heart of Carolina Romance Writers, Fantasy-Futuristic & Paranormal Romance Writers, Celtic Heart Romance Writers, and Sisters-in-Crime. She also writes as Nancy Lennea.

DRAGON’S CURSE buy link: http://bit.ly/gJ6B8s

DESTINY’S MOUNTAIN buy link: http://bit.ly/a4NOHE

These and her other titles are also available at Amazon.com
Visit Nancy’s Website: http://www.nancyleebadger.com/
And her blog http://www.nancylennea-inlove.blogspot.com/

The Birth of a Creative Idea

2011-02-09T05:00:00.001-06:00

Welcome to one of the stops on our Valentine's Blog Tour. I'm so pleased to have the awesome Lilly Gayle as my guest, discussing the birth of creative ideas.

Don't forget to leave a comment to enter the prize contest. One winner each week plus a grand prize winner. The more blogs you leave comments on the better your chances of winning. Prizes begin at $20 value, increasing each week to a grand prize of over $50. At the end of this post, I'll list the other stops on the tour so you'll have even MORE chances to win. Now, here's Lilly!

Inspiration can strike at any time and from any direction. I know a writer who’s inspired by country music. She claims there’s a story in every song. I prefer top 40 and rock, but there are some country songs that you can’t help but love. So, I can understand exactly what she means.

I get ideas from movies, books, pictures, and surfing the net. I’ve also gotten ideas for stories while taking a bath or watching the news. Every news story that ends in tragedy has the potential for a happy ending. And I like happy endings.

The inspiration for Out of the Darkness came from reading Dean Koontz’s Moonlight Bay trilogy and from watching the movie Universal Soldier. And I got the idea to write Slightly Tarnished while researching information on nineteenth century plumbing!

Sometimes, all it takes is a single spark to ignite an idea for a book. I’m currently writing the sequel to Out of the Darkness, tentatively entitled Into the Light. The basic idea for the story picks up where Out of the Darkness left off. But I didn’t want this book to be one of those sequels where a reader had to read the first book to understand the second one. I want it to be a sequel, but I want it to stand alone

Check out this link from Abandoned NC and tell me if the video doesn’t give you cold chills…and ideas for a paranormal or horror story: http://anc.funkybuu.net/davisvideo.html It gave me an idea on how to conclude Into the Light.

So, what ideas does this video give you? Any you’d like to share?

About Lilly:

Lilly Gayle lives in North Carolina with her husband of thirty years, her youngest daughter who's still in college, a dog, a cat, and various critters both dead and alive the cat occasionally drags through the doggie door. When not writing or working as a mammogapher, she spends time with her husband at the beach. Out of the Darkness, a paranormal romance is her first published novel. A historical, Slightly Tarnished should be released sometime next year.

More places Lilly can be found:

Blog address: http://lillygayleromance.blogspot.com/
Buy link for Out of the Darkness: http://www.thewildrosepress.com/out-of-the-darkness-p-4039.html

Blurb for Out of the Darkness:

Her research could cure his dark hunger if a covert government agent doesn't get to her first.

Vincent Maxwell is a vampire with a conscience seeking a cure to his dark hunger. But when a scientist looking to create vampire soldiers captures and kills a fellow vampire, Vincent seeks out Dr. Megan Harper, a research scientist who discovered a link between a genetic light sensitivity disorder and vampirism. Dr. Harper could hold a key to a cure and the answers to Gerard’s death. But getting close to the beautiful scientist could endanger both their lives.

When Megan meets Vincent she believes he suffers from xeroderma pigmentosum, the genetic disease that killed her sister. Sensing a deep loneliness within the handsome man, she offers friendship and access to her research files. But she and Vincent soon become more than friends and Megan learns the horrifying truth. She's entered the dark and unseen world of vampires and Vincent is her only hope of survival.

Excerpt:

Vincent didn’t spare her a second glance as he opened the basement door and stepped down. The sound of his boot heel striking wood echoed up the steps as he disappeared into the darkness.

“But—” Megan switched on the light and hurried after him.

“The first thing you need down here is a table and some chairs,” he said when he saw the stacks of unorganized data and reams of paper scattered across the floor. “Do you mind if I bring the ones down from the kitchen?”

“No.” She turned back toward the stairs. “I’ll help you bring them down.” It would give her something to do while she sorted through the confused thoughts and emotions tumbling around inside her head.

Vincent touched her arm and heat shot straight to her belly, turning her insides all warm and fuzzy.Warm and fuzzy was not good. Warm and fuzzy made her think of more than just heated sex. It made her think of cozy evenings snuggled up under a blanket and shared feelings. It made her long for an emotional connection she couldn’t risk. Not with Vincent. Not with a man who could potentially die a slow, lingering death.

“I’ll get it.” He let go of her arm and stepped back. “You start going through those papers and find that report you wrote comparing XP to vampire myths and legends. I’d be interested in seeing if you still have it.”

He turned to go back up the stairs and Megan shivered. Why had Steve mentioned the vampire report to Vincent? And why was Vincent so interested in seeing it?

Vincent the Vampire.

***
Wow! Doesn't THAT sound like a must read? I know I'm hooked. Now here's those other links I promised so you can leave comments and increase your chances of winning those lovely prizes:

Meet contemporary and paranormal romance author Jill James at http://amielouellen.wordpress.com/
Meet romantic suspense author Kat Duncan at http://authorjenniferjakes.blogspot.com/
Meet contemporary YA an adult romance author Linda Kage at http://www.ajbooks.blogspot.com/
Meet paranormal, and historical romance author Caroline Clemmons at http://lynneroberts.blogspot.com/
Meet Amie Louellen, author of fun and whimsical contemporary romance at http://amycorwin.blogspot.com/
Meet erotic western historical author Jennifer Jakes at http://www.jilljameswrites.com/
Meet author AJ Nuest at http://www.katduncan.net/writeabout
Meet author Lynne Roberts at http://lindakage.blogspot.com/
Meet paranormal romance author Maeve Greyson at http://carolineclemmons.blogspot.com/
Meet author Amy Corwin at http://www.lillygayleromance.blogspot.com/

And the winner is...

2011-02-04T19:01:00.001-06:00

MARCI!!! Congratulations to Marci. The lucky commenter from February 2nd's blog that kicked off The Wild Rose Press author's Valentine's Blog tour. Marci wins a $15 Wild Rose Press gift card AND a $5 Samhain gift card.

The following commenters were also drawn to be entered into the pot for the Grand Prize drawing at the end of the month:

1. Chantale Williams
2. Maria Yerton
3. Stephanie Suesan Smith
4. Ruby CRNA
5. Barb H
6. Emma Lai (Will be entered twice - she was drawn as the winning commentor on 2 blogs!)
7. Jordan Rose
8. Clancy
9. Stephanie Faris

Mark your calendars. Wednesday, February 9th will be your next chance to comment on all the blogs and vie for another weekly drawing or win a chance for the Grand Prize!

The Servant and the Sailor

2011-02-03T05:00:00.008-06:00

Are you ready for a story filled with eerie little twists and turns that will make the goosebumps tingle on your skin? I hope so! Because my friend, Rachel Lynne has shared another installment on her Paige Stewart series. And if that wasn't AWESOME enough, Rachel has also agreed to bestow a copy of her great new release from The Wild Rose Press, RING OF LIES to one lucky commentor. Be sure to read all the way to the end of the post to find out how to increase your odds to win. But for now, here's what you've been waiting for...more of Rachel's spine-tingling story:

Paige Stewart and the 17 Hundred 90 Inn

Paige Stewart ran under the 17 Hundred 90 Inn’s awning and caught a glimpse of herself in the glass door. She grimaced. Thanks to a careless trolley driver and an unexpected downpour, her hair hung like wet noodles down her back and her white shirt was plastered to her skin; nothing was left to the imagination. Perfect. I get to imitate Lady Godiva in a full lobby.

Paige opened the door then crossed her arms in front of her chest and ran up the stairs. To her relief, the hallway outside her room was deserted. She dug in her purse for the key, and then cursed as her trembling hands struggled with the lock. Finally, she heard the tumblers click. Dreaming of a hot shower, Paige turned the knob and walked straight into the door.

“Umph.” She shoved on the door and rattled the knob; it didn’t budge. “Ah, what the …”

Paige huffed and turned the key back and forth, hearing the lock roll over each time. There was no doubt it was unlocked. Why isn’t the damn thing opening? Paige shoved on the door again and kicked it for good measure.

She frowned. In an old building like the 1790, the damp day had probably caused the wood to swell. Wonderful, now she’d be forced to go back downstairs, in her soaking wet and totally transparent shirt.

She glared at the door. “Come on, give a girl a break.”

Determined to exhaust all avenues before resorting to the lobby, Paige laid her shoulder against the door and put all of her weight into one last shove. The door opened without a hitch.

“Ahh!” Paige tumbled into the room, landing face down on the carpet.

Sighing, she got to her feet and closed the door. Can my day get any better? The alarm on her phone went off, signifying there were only fifteen minutes remaining until her interview. Guess I answered that question!

She rushed to the shower. Minutes later, Paige hurried to the wardrobe and pulled a pair of black slacks and a lime green sweater out before crossing to the dresser for underwear and socks. She jerked open the drawer … and stared.

It was empty. Paige frowned. She distinctly remembered unpacking her suitcase and placing her things in the drawer. She shrugged and pulled open another drawer and then another. Nothing; they were all empty. Paige pulled her suitcase from the rack; no undies.

This is not happening. Paige drew a deep breath. The logical assumption was that someone had been in her room. But that made no sense. The 1790 was a prestigious Inn; hardly the kind of place she’d need to worry about theft. Besides, who in hell would want her underwear?

Irritated, she stomped over to the pile of wet clothes she’d left beside the bed and began to dress. The clammy silk made her skin crawl. Oh, but I’m going to give that manager an earful; after the interview.

Paige slung her camera bag over her shoulder, tucked the tape recorder into her pocket and pulled the door open. She paused as something by the window caught her eye. She had the strangest sensation that someone was watching her. A chill ran up her spine and the hair at the back of her neck stood on end.

She snorted. Writing these ghost stories is affecting my brain! Paige shook her head and stepped into the hall. As she reached for the knob, the door slammed in her face.

Paige shrieked. She drew a deep breath and stared at the door. What the hell was that about? A hand fell upon her shoulder. Paige gasped and whirled to find the manager standing behind her.

“Ms. Stewart? Are you all right?”

“Huh? Yes, I, um, I’m fine Mr. Laramie, I was just coming to meet you when …“

The wizened old man glanced at the door to her room and then back at her. A smile tugged at his lips. “Won’t you tell me what’s wrong, Ms. Stewart?”

Paige shook her head. “Nothing is wrong Mr. Laramie, I’m just a bit frazzled because I’m running late—“

“My dear, your face is as white as a gho—oh! You haven’t by chance had a run-in with our Anna, have you?”

Paige frowned. “Anna? I’m not sure what you mean.”

He chuckled and patted her hand. “Why I’m referring to Anna Powers of course. She lives in room 204.”

Paige frowned and wondered if the elderly man was a bit senile. “Mr. Laramie, 204 is my room.”

A twinkle appeared in his rheumy blue eyes. “Well of course you’re staying in room 204, dear, but it’s Anna’s room.” He walked over to the door. “No one has ever been able to convince Anna to leave, though I must confess with the current popularity for paranormal oddities we haven’t tried very hard.” He laughed and gave her a wink. “Shall we go in and see if Anna is about?”

Paige’s scattered wits finally settled enough for her to comprehend what the manager was telling her. A ghost, apparently named Anna Powers, occupied room 204; at least he wanted her to think so. The problems with the door now made sense. The 17 Hundred 90 staff must have decided to give the Paranormal Post reporter a ghostly encounter to spice up her article.

Her lips pursed. The haunted room routine might have worked on the amateur ghost hunters the Inn attracted but she was a seasoned investigative journalist; of real news. A haunted hotel, verified by a respected paranormal magazine no less, was very good for business. Her annoyance turned to curiosity. How far would they go? Paige smiled and opened her door.

“So my dear, shall we sit over hear by the windows?”

Paige nodded and chose one of the wing chairs standing opposite the fireplace. She unpacked her camera and recorder, and prepared to be entertained.

“Mr. Laramie, I gathered basic information on the 1790 but, to avoid any preconceived notions I don’t read any articles on a location’s paranormal incidents. I’d appreciate your confirming the basics and then tell me about Anna.”

The old man nodded. “Certainly. Let’s see, the Inn is comprised of two houses built, of course, during the year 1790. We are Savannah’s oldest Inn and the only one with a full service restaurant and lounge. We have fourteen rooms, all with restored fireplaces, and the brick floors in the public areas are original to the houses.” Mr. Laramie paused, “Wouldn’t you like to hear about our ghost, Ms. Stewart? She’s so much more interesting …”

She laughed at his wistful look and gave in to his plea. “Alright, Mr. Laramie, you can tell me about your ghost.”

His smiled. “There are several versions of her story but we tend to think ours is most accurate. From what we can gather, Anna Powers was a servant here back in the mid 1800’s. It seems she fell in love with a sailor and, well, found herself in the ‘family way’, if you know what I mean? “

Paige nodded and fought the urge to laugh.

The humor faded from Mr. Laramie’s face. “Her sailor promised to make a respectable woman out of Anna.” He pointed to the window behind them. “On the day of the wedding, Anna, dressed in her wedding finery, stood at this window, waiting for her tardy groom. Anna’s perch presented a perfect view of the river and afforded her the opportunity to see her lover’s ship sail out of the harbor.” He shook his head and sighed. “Poor Anna was brokenhearted and, in a fit of despondency, she plunged from the window and died upon the bricks below.”

Paige’s mouth dropped open. “She killed herself? How terrible! I assume she’s an unfriendly ghost?”

Mr. Laramie’s eyes widened. “Oh my heavens no! Anna is charming, though a bit mischievous. She seems to have a fascination with our modern gadgets. Guests have reported finding their cameras, phones, even jewelry, moved or hidden. She’s also been known to flicker the lights and turn on the clock radio in the middle of the night. One couple even claimed she jerked the covers off of the bed!” He leaned closer to Paige and lowered his voice. “Anna also seems to enjoy our female guests’ unmentionables.”

Paige’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean by, enjoys?”

The old man began to fidget under her gaze. “Um, well, she means no harm you understand, and things are always returned, er almost always, –“

“Mr. Laramie, what happens to women’s underwear in this room?”

He wrung his hands, obviously unnerved by her changed demeanor. “It doesn’t happen to all of our guests but there have been a few incidents of women’s lingerie disappearing. We think Anna must be fascinated by the um, vast differences in today’s intimate apparel. She seems to borrow the items for a short while and then returns them; though not usually to the original location. Once, we found a guest’s undergarments hanging on the Christmas tree in the lobby!”

Paige spoke through gritted teeth. “Mr. Laramie, this has gone far enough. As I think you know very well, I returned to my room this morning to find all of my underclothes missing. If you think for one minute that I’m going to buy the explanation that a ghost came into my room and removed them you are sadly mistaken. Furthermore, I am not inclined to write favorably about any establishment that wastes my time with such obvious hoaxes.” She rolled her eyes. “I come closer to believing you are employing a pervert!”

“Oh Ms. Stewart, please, please watch what you say!” He gulped and glanced around the room. “Anna is a sweet spirit most of the time but she has taken a severe dislike to several people, especially those that scoff at her!” He straightened in his chair. “And as for your missing items, I apologize, but I assure you that the 17 Hundred 90 Inn does not encourage our staff to construct paranormal encounters for our guests; there is no need. And all of our people are highly qualified professionals.”

Paige smirked. Professional pranksters anyway. She set her recorder down on the table and rose. “I’m sorry if I’ve offended you, but I think I’ve heard enough about the Inn’s so-called spirit.” She crossed the room and opened the door, motioning for him to precede her. “Perhaps we should take a tour of the Inn.”

Paige pulled the door closed and followed the manager to the stairs. “I won’t hold this against the Inn when I write my article, however I expect my clothes to be in their drawer when I return.”

He looked at Paige. She had to hand it to the man. His look of fear would fool most people; unfortunately for him she wasn’t most people.

“I can’t promise your items will be returned because no one on my staff took them.” He bit his lip. “In fact, I fear you may have angered Anna enough that she won’t give them back.”

Paige gasped. The man was still sticking with his story. She could take a joke but this … someone had gone into her room and pawed through her things! She drew a deep breath and fought the urge to shout. “Perhaps you’d better have a chat with ‘Anna’ then because my patience is wearing thin.” Paige slipped her hand into her pocket and found it empty. She sighed. “I’ll be right back Mr. Laramie, I’ve forgotten my tape recorder.”

Paige unlocked the door, wondering if it was still rigged. The door swung open without a hitch. Seems they got the message! She walked through the door and slammed into an invisible and icy barrier. Frigid cold enveloped her and unbearable pressure built around her chest. She opened her mouth to scream, but the air was forced from her lungs. The room began to spin and spots formed in front of her eyes. Everything went dark.

“Ms. Stewart, are you all right?”

Paige blinked. She was standing in front of the fireplace. “How did I … what am I doing in here?”

The old man frowned. “My dear you came back to retrieve your tape recorder. Don’t you remember?”

Paige gulped and sank down onto the chair. She stared at the tape recorder in her trembling hand. “Mr. Laramie? How did I get into this room?”

The manager sat next to her and took her hand. “Ms. Stewart, are you feeling well? Forgive me, but you don’t look good. Shall I call the –“

“No!” Paige softened her tone when the elderly man jumped. She forced a smile. “No, Mr. Laramie, I’m fine. I just … I felt dizzy a moment ago and I must have stumbled ….” She willed her legs to stop shaking and rose to her feet. “I’m probably just in need of food, no need to worry.”

He nodded. “Well … if you’re sure.” He walked to the door. “Why don’t we go downstairs and have lunch?”

Paige shook her head and retrieved her suitcase from the luggage rack. “Thank you for offering, Mr. Laramie, but I’m going to check out.”

“Today? But you have two nights reserved.”

“I know I’m booked for another night but I’m afraid my plans have changed.” Paige shuddered and began piling her things into the suitcase, trying to convince herself that what she’d felt moments ago was indeed caused by a lack of food. That has to be it. Any other explanation was ridiculous. Still, there was no way she’d spend another night in room 204, or any other room at the Inn.

“Would you see to my checkout please? I really need to leave; immediately.”

Without thought, Paige pulled the dresser drawer open. She gasped as her gaze took in the neatly folded stacks of lingerie. “When did you … how did my things get here?”

The manager looked over and shrugged. “It’s not of my doing, Ms. Stewart.”

She glared. “Mr. Laramie, I know these clothes were not here earlier.”

A gentle smile curved his lips. “I believe you, Ms. Stewart. As I said, Anna often takes—“

“Stop.” Paige shook her head. “Please just stop. I don’t believe—I’m going to finish packing. Please have my bill ready, I’ll be down in a few minutes.”

“As you wish, Ms. Stewart.” He started to pull the door closed.

“Leave it open!” She took a deep breath and lowered her voice. “Please leave the door open, Mr. Laramie.”

He smiled and Paige cringed at the knowing look in his eyes. “It’s gloomy in here, I need the extra light.” It sounded weak, even to her, but the old man merely nodded.

Paige waved her hand in response to the manager’s good-bye and then ran around the room, gathering her things; everything but her underclothes. She stared at the bras and panties, willing herself to touch them. A rustling from across the room propelled her into action. Hands shaking, she threw the clothes into the case, and zipped it closed.

Shoving her luggage into the hall, Paige scanned the room for anything she’d missed. Her heart sank as she spotted her camera lying on the floor beside the fireplace. There was no hope for it; she couldn’t leave the magazine’s camera. Common sense said nothing was going to harm her and nothing had tried, but she wasn’t interested in what common sense had to say at the moment. Focusing on the camera, Paige willed her legs to take one step, and then another. It was a lack of food! Bolstered, she took two more steps and reached the end of the bed.

The camera lay a few feet away. She took a deep breath, rushed over to the fireplace, and grabbed it. She hugged the camera to her chest and laughed at her nonsensical fears.

“There is no such thing as a ghost!

Paige crossed to the door and leaned over to secure the camera. As she zipped the bag closed, a cold wind ruffled her hair. She straightened and slowly turned around.

The door slammed in her face.

*****

“Welcome to the Kehoe House, Ms. Stewart, we hope you enjoy your stay with us!”

“I’m sure I will.” Paige laughed and jingled her room key. “As long as this isn’t Anna’s room!”

Maeve, thank you so much for allowing me, er Paige, to visit your blog! Intrepid reporter Paige Stewart may be fictitious but the legends and lore of Savannah’s 17 Hundred 90 Inn are all true … to one degree or another. Paige should learn to do her research. I’ve heard the Kehoe House is a lively place!

Rachel Lynne

You can find me, and my books, at my website http://www.rachellynneauthor.com/

If you want to see what happens to Paige at the Kehoe House, visit my Blog; the link and date of the next adventure will be posted in the News column. http://wwwrachellynneauthor.blogspot.com/

And, if you can’t wait for another suspenseful tale set amidst the beautiful and historic city of Savannah, may I suggest my romantic suspense novel Ring of Lies? http://www.thewildrosepress.com/ring-of-lies-p-4350.html

Secrets, Lies, and Murder surround Ivy Michaels amidst the backdrop of Savannah’s annual St. Patrick’s Day festivities!

Book Trailer for Ring of Lies (http://www.youtube.com/user/rachellynne1?feature=mhum )

A café owner and an ex-cop must solve the mystery of a hot blue diamond in order to catch a stone cold killer!

Excerpt (http://www.rachellynneauthor.com/ringoflies.html#excerpt )

One lucky commenter will win a pdf of Ring of Lies. Want to increase your odds of winning? You’ll get an extra entry in the prize drawing if you indicate in your comment that you’ve joined my newsletter, (link to newsletter subscription http://groups.yahoo.com/subscribe/RachelLynneAuthor?user=enter+email+address&Click+to+join+RachelLynneAuthor.x=56&Click+to+join+RachelLynneAuthor.y=27

or FaceBook Fan Page (link to fan page: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Rachel-Lynne-Escape-the-ordinary-/126136164085946

(No worries about email overload, I’ve yet to send out an issue! What can I say, I live a boring life? But Paige might be persuaded to give my newsletter readers the inside scoop on some of her wilder assignments!)

Set that HOOK!

2011-02-02T03:33:00.101-06:00

Welcome to one of the stops on our Valentine's Blog Tour. Don't forget to leave a comment to enter the prize contest. One winner each week plus a grand prize winner. The more blogs you leave comments on the better your chances of winning. Prizes begin at $20 value, increasing each week to a grand prize of over $50. At the end of this post, I'll list the other stops on the tour so you'll have even MORE chances to win!

I'm so pleased to have author Jennifer Jakes as my guest. We're kicking off our blog tour discussing that oh so important first line and how it's so significant. Jennifer: what are YOUR thoughts?

Maybe it’s just me. Maybe I have ADHD. Or maybe it’s just the “give-it-to-me-now” world we live in. Whatever the reason, I have the attention span of a hummingbird jacked-up on Mtn. Dew. If something doesn’t grab my interest immediately, chances are I’m moving on to something that does. This applies to First Lines too.

Oh, no! An author might think – I know I do – how can I accomplish this in one line? Let’s be realistic. It’s not probable that every story ever written will hook the reader with the first line. But with a little luck and a lot of work, I think it’s possible to interest the reader after the first page. At least I hope.

I will spend hours, days, coming up with a first line, then the first page, trying to find the perfect combination of words to “set” the entire story. That’s how important I feel they are. First lines or pages should draw a reader into the world, into a problem or make us need to answer a question. What kind of question? I think that depends on the genre. If it’s Romantic Suspense, then it might be a life or death question; if it’s Category Romance, then it might be a more common problem but with devastating effects on the heroine’s world. And if it’s erotica, then it might be a sexual question, one that the heroine must explore with a hero. Or two . :-)

Think of first lines like a first meeting, a first date. You’re looking for a promise of something great. So for now I’m going to leave you with a few first lines that I think are great.

“I should warn you about my cousin.” From ROMEO by Gail Faulkner

“Oh, my God, what have I done?” From BOUNTY HUNTER’S BRIDE by Carol Finch

“Unhand her this instant!” From A REPUTABLE RAKE by Diane Gaston

“Father must protect me or I am dead.” From HER ONE DESIRE by Kimberly Killion

“I’m going to have to shorten his willie.” From DISTRACTING THE DUCHESS by Emily Bryan

Love that last one! What reader doesn’t want to know why the hero’s “willie” has to shortened? Please share some of your favorite lines with us! If you do, you’ll be entered into a drawing for some great gifts!

Thanks so much for having me here today, Maeve!

About Jennifer:

After trying several careers—everything from a beautician to a dump truck driver—Jennifer finally returned to her first love, writing. Maybe it was all those Clint Eastwood movies she watched growing up, but in her opinion there is no better read than a steamy western historical.

Married to her very own hero, she lives on fifteen acres along with two beautiful daughters, two elderly horses, two spoiled cats and two hyper dogs.

During the summer she does Civil War re-enacting and has found it a great research tool, not to mention she has continued appreciation for her microwave and hot water heater.

You can also find Jennifer at these places:
http://www.jenniferjakes.com/
http://authorjenniferjakes.blogspot.com/
FB: Jennifer Jakes
Twitter: @erotichistory

And check out her upcoming release RAFE'S REDEMPTION - available from The Wild Rose Press on February 25th.

He rode into town to buy supplies, not a woman.

For hunted recluse Rafe McBride, the raven-haired beauty on the auction block is exactly what he doesn't need. A dependant woman will be another clue his vengeful stepbrother can use to find and kill him. But Rafe's conscience won't let him leave another innocent's virginity to the riff-raff bidding. He buys her, promising to return her to St. Louis untouched. He only prays the impending blizzard holds off before her sultry beauty breaks his willpower.

She wanted freedom, not a lover.

Whisked to the auction block by her devious, gambling cousin, and then sold into the arms of a gorgeous stranger, outspoken artist Maggie Monroe isn't about to go meekly. Especially when the rugged mountain man looks like sin and danger rolled into one. But a blizzard and temptation thrust them together, and Maggie yearns to explore her smoldering passion for Rafe.

But when the snow clears, will the danger and secrets that surround Rafe and Maggie tear them apart?

Excerpt:

Maggie wanted freedom, not a lover…Oh, Lord. He was going to kiss her. She shouldn’t want this. She was confused enough. Respectable women didn’t kiss men they barely knew, certainly not men who made them have wild, exotic dreams.

It was crazy. He was making her want crazy things. Making her not give a damn about her reputation or her virginity. Or her long-awaited freedom. All she could think about was that dream, and the way his sinful mouth had felt. The table was only a step away, and honey was just as sweet as peach juice…

She swallowed hard and looked up into his hooded eyes.

“Maggie,” he groaned. “Don’t be scared. I’d never hurt you.”

Her mouth parted to object, but firm lips covered hers, hungry, demanding. She gasped, shocked at his hunger, but even more at the illicit response coursing through her. An aching heat unfurled low in her stomach, pulsed between her legs. Oh, yes. It started just like in the dream.

He deepened the kiss, coaxed her lips with his warm tongue. Long, languid strokes teased the inside of her mouth, encouraging, tempting before he pulled back to nibble the corners of her lips.

Oh, God. Is this what all kisses felt like? Hot, lethargic? Melting her like molasses over warm bread?

“Kiss me, Maggie,” he breathed.

************
Whew! Wasn't THAT an awesome excerpt? Thanks for sharing it with us, Jennifer. Okay, folks. Here's those other links I promised so you can leave comments and increase your chances of winning those lovely prizes:

Meet contemporary YA an adult romance author Linda Kage at http://amielouellen.wordpress.com/
Meet contemporary, paranormal, and historical romance author Caroline Clemmons at http://authorjenniferjakes.blogspot.com/
Meet historical and paranormal romance writer Lilly Gayle at http://www.ajbooks.blogspot.com/
Meet Amie Louellen, author of fun and whimsical contemporary romance at http://lynneroberts.blogspot.com/
Meet author AJ Nuest at http://amycorwin.blogspot.com/
Meet author Lynne Roberts at http://www.jilljameswrites.com/
Meet paranormal romance author Maeve Greyson at http://www.katduncan.net/writeabout
Meet author Amy Corwin at http://lindakage.blogspot.com/
Meet contemporary and paranormal romance author Jill James at http://carolineclemmons.blogspot.com/
Meet romantic suspense author Kat Duncan at http://lillygayleromance.blogspot.com/

Do you ever listen to your intuition?

2011-01-21T16:23:00.000-06:00

I did today and it created a happy ending.

Let me give you a rundown of my day. I start every morning by reading my horoscope. Most of the time, it's just for fun - but every now and then it hits eerily close to home. I'm an Aquarius and this is the horoscope that popped up on my blackberry this morning:

Your intuition is keen today, Aquarius. Allow it to govern you through a difficult process you are about to begin. Not all Aquarians are comfortable listening to their inner voice. That's because, as a practical and intellectual air sign, you are more likely to opt for logic or science to guide you. But you actually have quite an exceptional level of extra sensory perception, and you need to learn to tune into it more often. If you do so today, you will navigate through a challenge with ease.

My initial reaction consisted of a shrug and a "hmm...wonder what that means?", then off to work I went. I arrived in the cold (eleven degrees Fahrenheit), dark parking lot and stepped out of my car to be met by the sweetest black dog with the saddest pair of eyes. Here’s a photo that my plant manager took with his blackberry:

The night shift supervisor said the dog had wandered around the mill, following any kind soul who’d pay him any attention. When he couldn’t find someone to follow, he’d sit outside of security's door, throw back his head and howl. Several people suggested I call animal control and have him hauled away. No way. I knew what would happen to the gentle beast if I couldn't find his owner and he ended up at the shelter. My heart broke and I almost burst into tears as he leaned against my leg and nosed his muzzle into my hand. He wore a collar but no tags. The poor brute was not only lost, he was unidentifiable. All anyone could tell me was that he'd been there all night.

My intuition nudged me. I knew this dog. Where had I seen him? It finally hit me. We've got closed circuit video cameras aimed at the staging area to watch the truck drivers securing their trailers before and after loading. Yesterday, I’d noticed a driver playing catch with his dog while waiting for his turn to load.

I logged on to my computer and searched through the screens until I finally found the portion of the tape I needed. There he was - my forlorn little friend galloping across my screen during a much happier playtime with his master. I double-checked the date/time stamp and zoomed in on the truck number. I was able to locate the trucking company by matching the truck number with the check-in log.

I hesitated about calling the driver’s dispatcher. I couldn't imagine a driver leaving his dog behind. Lots of drivers have dogs as companions on their lonely hauls and this furry friend was big enough to make a person think twice about bothering his master's truck.

A driver and his dog are inseparable. I couldn’t imagine the driver leaving his companion but I just knew this dog was the same one playing catch on the video tape.

I called the dispatcher and warned him that I had a rather odd question. I asked if he happened to know whether or not his driver had lost his dog? The dispatched didn't know but he agreed to contact the driver via cell phone.

The driver stated yes, he had in fact lost his dog while at our facility. While securing his load, his dog chased off a pack of stray dogs always running through our area. The driver had called, "Rocky" and searched for hours but had been forced to give up and leave out of fear of losing his job. He didn’t want to report the dog missing to the mill. Most places he’d loaded wouldn’t have helped him. The driver was ecstatic when he learned we'd found Rocky and asked that we'd please shelter him someplace warm since Rocky was not an outside dog. He promised, if we’d watch over him for just a little while, he’d return right away. He'd traveled 150 miles from our mill but was in the process of turning his big rig around. He’d be there as soon as he could get there.

Security and I stashed Rocky in the scale house office with a sausage and egg biscuit, water and a warm blanket. While she scaled in all the trucks, Rocky slept at her feet. Approximately three hours later, Rocky's rig pulled back into our lot. When his master whistled over the CB radio, Rocky's head popped up, ears perked to attention. As the driver walked through the door, Rocky transformed from a droopy tailed, unhappy dog into an exploding bundle of joy.

Rocky and his driver's happy ending made my day. I'm glad I read my horoscope this morning and listened to my intuition. Do you ever listen to yours?

Have you ever met a baby Draecna?

2011-01-17T16:26:00.000-06:00

I’m so excited to announce that ETERNITY’S MARK survived Round Three of Kensington Brava / RT Book Reviews Writing With the Stars Contest and has moved on to Round Four.

Four of us remain, doing our best to win your vote for Best Secondary Character. When they asked us to submit our excerpts, William was an easy choice. I fell in love with my little Draecna and I hope you do too. I’ve always loved dragons and my beloved Draecna’s in ETERNITY’S MARK have many dragon attributes. In case you haven’t been to RT’s site yet, here’s William’s description that’s battling for the win:

Bumbling and inquisitive as a big-footed pup, William won Hannah’s love the instant his shimmering green nose pushed through the shell. A wiggling bundle of iridescent scales topped with wings and horns, William’s likeness to the prints of the mythical dragons Hannah once studied is only contradicted by his newborn size. The first of the Draecna hatchlings released from the protective spell of his egg, William becomes the full-of-mischief, exasperating son Hannah never had. When he’s not providing the castle with Draecna flatulence to ignite into balls of fire, he continues to forget the wise admonition: “Never piss into the wind.” Under the tutelage of the elder Draecna’s, William struggles with learning the tenets of his race while waiting for the power of his first flame. When war breaks out, William matures quickly, protecting Hannah and unleashing his first blaze to avenge them all.

Below, you’ll find an excerpt from my story to help get you acquainted with William a bit better. If you’d like to help us survive Round Four, after you enjoy the excerpt – please pop over to RT’s site and give us your vote. There's also a place to leave a comment, if you like. Here’s the link:

http://www.rtbookreviews.com/content/writing-stars-vote-secondary-character

I know William appreciates your support – but not nearly as much as I do! *wink*

Excerpt:

“He’s pissing on his feet again.” Gearlach nodded in William’s direction where he stood bouncing and peeing a healthy stream of steaming white urine all over his over-sized feet.

“William!” Taggart snapped at the young Draecna and barely jumped out of the line of fire as William swung around in answer to Taggart’s call. “Dammit, boy! How many times do I have to tell ye? Ye do not piss into the wind.” Gads, he’d forgotten how much energy it took keeping a young hatchling in line.

William shook off his feet and wiped them on the backs of his legs as he glanced up at Taggart with a sheepish grin. “Don’t tell Mother, ‘kay?”

“She is not your mother, William. She is the honored Guardian.” Gearlach flicked at William’s wing with a crooked claw as he nudged the hatchling’s tail with his toe. “Have ye not looked in any of the mirrors in the castle? She’s not got a single scale, claw or wing on her scrawny wee body. She’s pink and soft, while we’re hideous, scaly monsters. Or at least that’s what most humans on this side of the portal think.”

William kicked at Gearlach’s monstrous, three-toed feet and pounded on his over-sized belly. “She said I could call her Mama or Mother if I wanted. She told me ‘twas proper ‘cause she helped me to get borned out of my shell.”

“When do ye start your lessons with Septamus?” Taggart interrupted. The hatchling’s butchering of his native tongue made him want to cringe.

“Septamus said Gearlach’s got to unteach me his stuff first. He told me I’ve got to be more mannerly afore he’ll fool with me.” William beamed a snaggle-toothed grin at Taggart and puffed out his scaly chest with pride.

Cutting his gaze over at Gearlach, Taggart dreaded the answer to the question he was about to ask. Gearlach had found an adoring protégé in William and Gearlach had barely reached maturity himself. “What have you done to the boy, Gearlach?”

With a chuckle, Gearlach nudged William with his foot while he stripped a tree branch to scrape the residue of his lunch from between his teeth. “Go on, William. Show him what we can do.”

Bouncing up and down, William clapped his claws together and bounded around the clearing. “Ye know I am too young to make flames just yet, but Gearlach lets me help.”

This couldn’t be good. Anytime Gearlach dabbled with fire, it didn’t end well. It’s a wonder the two hadn’t annihilated the entire tip of Scotland. “Gearlach if ye hurt the little one in any way, Hannah will kill us all. Ye know how she feels about him, right?” Taggart glared at the grinning Draecna with a sense of dread. What the hell had he taught little William to do?

“Now, Taggart. Ye know I’d never hurt the lad! We’ve done it dozens of times. Haven’t we, William?” Gearlach tossed his tree branch toothpick aside and nodded to the smiling young Draecna.

“Oh, aye!” Bending over, William flipped his tail over to one side, took a deep breath and strained. His face turned a deeper shade of green as he squeaked out a peeling fart that lasted several long seconds. “Now, Gearlach!” he shouted.

With a gentle puff, Gearlach sparked the Draecna methane bubble into a roiling ball of flames. It exploded into a brilliant circle of blazing sparks that roiled its way into the sky.

Covering his face with his hands, Taggart shook his head, then raked his hands through his hair. He stared at the beaming Gearlach then glanced over at William who stood waiting for his critique. “You two have set our kind backward in civilization over a thousand years. Do not do that again or I will spell ye both so that neither one of ye can either fart or breath fire again for several centuries. Do ye both understand me?”

His lower lip quivering just below his nubby fangs, William sniffed and stared down at his feet. “Gearlach said it was…was funny and quite talented. He said none of the other Draecna’s could do it.”

“Aye, well. He was right about none of the other Draecna’s doing it.” Taggart folded his arms across his chest and fixed Gearlach with a threatening glare. He couldn’t imagine where the fool had come up with the idea although Gearlach held an obsessed fascination with his flame and any type of explosion. “I hold Gearlach responsible, William. But ye’re getting old enough now to realize what ye should and shouldna do. And I want ye to start spending a great deal more time with Septamus rather than Gearlach. He’s a much better influence upon ye. Do ye understand me?”

“Aye.” William nodded and cut his flickering golden eyes over at Gearlach as if silently accusing him of sending him straight to the gallows.

I am a FOUNT of useless information...

2011-01-09T18:29:00.000-06:00

In a few short weeks, I’ll turn fifty years old. (Turn? Kind of makes me sound like a pint of milk.) It doesn’t bother me. As a matter of fact, I consider it a victory over all the adversarial forces attempting to block me from this goal. I’ve learned a lot in my fifty years on this planet and I’ve decided to share this wealth of knowledge on my blog. I know. Exciting, isn’t it? Please be advised that I’ve carefully researched all these items that I’m about to list and found them to be true…at least most of the time. *ahem*

Anyway – here we go:

1. When plucking your eyebrows, make certain you are holding the CORRECT hair firmly with the tweezers because you WILL sneeze as soon as you begin to pull and it will come out leaving a bare patch –hopefully where you intended.

2. When you place twelve socks in the dryer, only eleven socks will come out. The twelfth sock is a sacrifice to the dryer god to prevent the dryer from breaking down BEFORE the last load is dry.

3. Speaking of socks: If you walk around the house in your sock feet, you will be the first to discover where the puppy had his accident and will also know how long ago said accident occurred by the warmth of the puddle.

4. If you visit your doctor for stomach problems and find yourself all alone – stripped down and waiting in the examination room: as soon as you give in to the explosive urge to release flatulence, the doctor will walk in the door.

5. You’re watching a movie you’ve been dying to see. It’s the last fifteen minutes of the flick and you’re about to find out whodunit and who’s gonna get the girl. ONE of the following will happen:

A. The phone will ring and from the number on caller ID, you know you can’t ignore the call.

B. If you’re on satellite, you will lose the signal and get a picture that looks like a mosaic and you’re missing the pieces you really need.

C. If you’re on cable, the power will go out.

D. For some unknown reason, your spouse will decide to have a meaningful conversation and expect you to respond.

6. You’ve completed your manuscript and prepared an award winning query letter. Everyone in the tri-state area has proofed it for typos and grammar. It’s perfect and ready to send to the editor/agent of your dreams. As soon as you hit the send button and take one last glance at the file saved to your copy folder, you notice a glaring error that your six year old granddaughter would’ve caught –if only you had let HER read it.

This is just the tip of the iceberg of all I’ve learned in my first fifty years on this spinning marble. I can’t wait to see what I’m going to discover during the NEXT fifty!

Shh...Maeve doesn't know I'm on her computer

2010-12-29T16:52:00.001-06:00

Hi everybody. Jasper here. I’ve gotta make this quick. Maeve’s cleaning up the kitchen and she doesn’t realize I’ve commandeered her laptop. Dang it. I wish the keyboard on this thing wasn’t so freakin’ sensitive. Please excuse any typos. Toshiba obviously DID NOT take into account the size of a fella’s paws.

In case you don’t know, I’m Maeve’s writing partner and I REALLY need your help. You see, Maeve reads all her stories aloud to me and I let her know what I think. Old Maeve’s pretty perceptive and not half bad as a writer –for a human. But her tales have one problem that I just can’t seem to get corrected. Would you believe that woman doesn’t put enough dogs in her stories? It’s criminal!

BEYOND A HIGHLAND WHISPER (coming in February from The Wild Rose Press) only mentions a dog one time when Nessa (the heroine) says dogs are the only creatures capable of unconditional love. My Maeve nailed that one. Even though I’m sometimes forced to pee in her house-shoes to punish her for leaving me home alone, I’m doing it because I love her. AND I’ll always love her, no matter what. But she only mentions dogs ONE TIME in that story.

Her other story, ETERNITY’S MARK, is a little better. Hannah (the heroine) is a vet with an uncanny ability to know an animal’s thoughts. There’s a few more dogs in that story but not nearly enough to do us justice. By the way, ETERNITY’S MARK is the one she’s entered in some kind of contest. I think she called it Writing With the Stars? If you go to this link: http://www.rtbookreviews.com/content/writing-stars-vote-best-back-cover-blurb and vote for her, I would really appreciate it. Around here, if Maeve ain’t happy –NOBODY’S happy. She gets too quiet and wanders off into the woods when she's sad. Then I have to go find her and act like some sillly pup just to make her smile. You understand.

And one more thing, could someone please explain to me why it’s okay to pee on the trees in the yard but it’s NOT okay to pee on the fancy one that Maeve put in the house?

Whoops! Gotta go. I hear her heading this way. Remember, tell Maeve: MORE DOGS!

Christmas is EVERY day for me...

2010-12-17T17:36:00.000-06:00

Hubby and I finally got the last of the gifts wrapped and stowed around the tree. He scanned the packages and said, “You don’t have anything under there.”

I laughed and replied, “I don’t need anything under there and besides, YOU already broke our agreement of not buying gifts for each other.
He grinned and shook his head. “I told you. That wasn’t a Christmas gift. It’s an I love you gift.”

If you happen to visit my Facebook page, this is the picture I posted of Mr. Sneaky’s I love you gift. This behavior is just ONE of the reasons I feel like every day is Christmas and have felt that way pretty much since June 1979.

That was when my knight in shining armor rescued me from an emotionally abusive hell. It’s been a long road and a painful struggle, but he’s taught me (and is still teaching me) the meaning of love, acceptance and trust.

Along the way, I received the wondrous gifts of two amazing daughters. Sometimes, I still look at them in disbelief. How could I have given birth to such two beautiful individuals? And then there’s my granddaughter. *sigh* Such a delightful gift. She gifts me with joy every day.

I’ve worked at the same job for twenty-three years. My co-workers are more like family than long time friends. I know there are lots of folks who’d love to have that gift.

Every day of my life, I receive more gifts than I could EVER begin to list here: laughter, renewed health, the devoted love of my dog, generous folks who take the time to let me know they consider me a friend. Never underestimate the power of something as simple as a smile or telling someone you care.

So, while I treasure this time of year. Christmas is every day for me.

Patience is NOT one of my virtues.

2010-12-10T17:58:00.003-06:00

Looks serene doesn’t it? This view of Loch Ness from the ruins of Urquhart Castle? Wish I felt as peaceful as this picture.

But Monday, December 13th is the start of Round Three in the Kensington Brava / RT Book Reviews Writing With the Stars contest. Yep. That’s right. Monday, December 13th unveils the six remaining finalists. *GULP*

To urge the day to arrive a bit faster and half-heartedly attempt to make myself useful, I thought I’d post a brand new excerpt from ETERNITY’S MARK −my entry that’s been battling for the win. Hope you enjoy it (and keep your fingers crossed that ETERNITY’S MARK makes it)!

Excerpt:

A loud crash followed by a roared curse brought her attention back to the bedchamber. Taggart stood in the doorway, sword drawn, eyes glowing with a murderous light. A tall, wispy man with thin trailing hair stood slightly behind him.

Padding into the room, Hannah crossed her arms over the front of her skimpy nightgown and scooted for her robe draped across the end of the bed. She glanced at the strange man behind the breakfast cart, then turned to Taggart with a frosty hiss. “Would you mind telling me what you think you’re doing? All you had to do was give me a few minutes and I would’ve eventually answered the door.”

Taggart sheathed his sword with an irritated thump as he scanned the room. “Why in the hell did ye no’ answer the door when Thaetus knocked and asked ye to allow him entry?”

As she yanked the belt of her robe tight about her waist, Hannah envisioned wrapping it around Taggart’s neck. How dare he talk to her as if she was a child! Who did he think he was? “He only knocked twice and I was busy. All he had to do was wait a minute. Since when do you break somebody’s door down when they don’t open it after a couple of knocks?”

“Actually, I knocked thrice.” Thaetus cleared his throat and folded his pale, narrow hands atop the brass handles of the cart. “And I called out to ye twice and asked if ye were unwell. When ye didna answer, I could only assume something had gone awry and ye needed immediate assistance.”

“Thaetus.” Hannah stalked across the room, hands clenched into the folds of her robe, struggling to channel her irritation. “Do you know what happens when you assume?”

Thaetus raised his chin, his spectacled eyes narrowed as he replied with a delicate sniff. “No. What would that be, Lady Guardian?”

Hannah glared at the stone-faced servant. She itched to fire back her standard smartass reply of it makes an ass out of you and me. She gritted her teeth and decided the phrase would be lost on the stoic-faced man. She might as well save her breath. She doubted Thaetus would get it. “Never mind, Thaetus. You’d never understand.” This was ridiculous. They guarded her like she was some national treasure. There hadn’t been any attacks since they’d left Jasper Mills. Surely, she was safe here at Taroc Na Mor.

“What were ye doing, Hannah? Why did ye no’ call out and answer Thaetus?” Taggart slapped at the twisted hinges dangling from the chamber doors, scowling at the damage he’d done to the paneling and the surrounding doorframe.

“I don’t believe that is any of your business.” With a huff, Hannah poured a cup of coffee and curled up on the settee to return Taggart’s fuming stare. She had to admit she rather enjoyed irritating him. And this was the second time she’d gotten a little more than breathless by seeing him rush to defend her. When he brandished his sword, his wondrous muscles bulged, leaving no doubt he’d slay anything foolish enough to cross his path. Hannah cradled her cup between her palms, remembering the warmth of Taggart’s essence when she’d helped him heal Septamus. She shifted on the settee, drawing in a rapid breath. These chambers suddenly seemed very warm.

Thaetus’ eyes widened with a horrified look and he tapped nervous fingertips atop Taggart’s arm. “Ye need to leave this room and allow the Lady Guardian to compose herself. Ye have upset her and you know that is forbidden.”

With an arched brow, Taggart studied Hannah closer then sidled a glance back to Thaetus’ bug-eyed expression. A roguish grin crept across his face as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Truly? Are ye absolutely certain, Thaetus?”

“Aye, Taggart. Ye know the rules. The Lady Guardian must be left alone.” Thaetus plucked at Taggart’s tunic with long, narrow fingers and jerked his head toward the door.

“Thaetus, I know we might’ve gotten off on the wrong foot and please don’t take this the wrong way. But you are acting strange. What exactly is your problem?” Hannah stretched forward, sliding her china cup onto the marble slab table squatting in front of the damask settee.

Taggart’s warm, rumbling chuckle bubbled up from the depths of his chest and echoed off the walls of the high-ceilinged room. “I have to tell her, Thaetus. ‘Twould no’ be fair to keep the lass in the dark. Ye’ve already given yourself away.”

Thaetus shook his head and backed against the wall, pulling the breakfast cart in front of his body as though it were a shield. “She will not be pleased. Consider yourself warned, Taggart. And ye might want to step behind here with me.”

Taggart rubbed his nose with the back of his hand as he gave a wink and a nod toward Thaetus. “Thaetus is an empath, Hannah. Ye might say he’s very sensitive to your…um…needs.”

Hannah looked from Taggart to Thaetus and then back to Taggart’s knowing grin. That son-of-a-. Thaetus had picked up on her very private case of the hornies and alerted Taggart in code. Embarrassed heat of this revelation stormed its way through her body. Her cheeks burned hotter than they had in high school when the zipper split on her jeans during her speech in the middle of assembly.

“Get out.” Hannah pointed at the door hanging off the hinges while fixing her gaze on the center of the coffee table.

“It’s all right, Hannah, I understand how ye might be excited by−”

“I said get the hell out!”

Thaetus took the lead and hurried toward the door, dodging the coffee cup Hannah lobbed at their heads. He only paused long enough to hiss to Taggart. “I advised ye she would not be pleased.”

Inspiration or over-active imagination?

2010-12-08T18:10:00.000-06:00

Sights? Sounds? Scents? What triggers your dream-state? What tickles your muse? We've all heard the expression, "a picture's worth a thousand words". Do pictures send your mind reeling, make your palms itch to jot down the story before it escapes?

Consider these ruins atop the Rock of Cashel in Ireland. After I snapped this shot, I lowered the camera and though I stood among several other tourists, I was all alone. My mind whirled through the ruins, searched over the landscape like a bloodhound led by a scent. Hubby had to touch my shoulder to break my reverie because I wasn't there. I was watching ghosts of the past fit together chiseled stones and build walls without mortar.

Or what about this woman playing the harp along the path winding up the Cliffs of Moher? My mind painted her as a trapped soul, unable to communicate in any other way than the magical sound released by her instrument. Perhaps she waited for a hero? A hero to break the curse and release her from the prison of silence.

Did this gentleman ride his pony to the town square each day waiting for a lost love who promised she'd someday return?

You see? I'm hopeless. Ever the dreamer, I never know when it will hit. And it doesn't take far away places to send me into my own little world.

The sight of my granddaughter singing her heart out at the Christmas play triggered visions of a self-assured young woman waiting in the future.

Her serious admonition while singing this song showed me the headstrong side to the young lady coming in the years ahead.

And then there's the little wood imp, hiding in the forest among the trees just itching to whisk away a passerbye and sweep them through the gateway into the land of Fae.

Sights? Sounds? Scents? What sends YOU into a dream?

At our house, it's all about the memories

2010-12-03T14:22:00.001-06:00

I believe one of my favorite things about the holidays is all the gorgeous decorations. I love the lights, the velvety ribbons, the sparkling baubles gleaming at every turn. I so admire those talented folks able to turn their trees into designer-inspired works of art. But those of you who know me, know all too well that I’m just plain old me. And our family’s tree doesn’t quite fall into the “carefully decorated” category. We don’t have a perfect, color-coordinated decoration that’s suitable to grace the cover of a magazine. Our delightfully chaotic tree is all about the memories.

Hubby and I have been together forever. This is our thirty-first Christmas shared and we’ve collected a dated ornament for every year. You’ll also see a U.S. Air Force ornament commemorating the years he served our country.

Look a little closer and you’ll see the wonderful ornaments my granddaughter made. Those ornaments are more precious to me than all the gold in the world.

There’s also ornaments both daughters made. Their creativity makes me laugh. She told me the word “earth” was too long for the ornament –so she improvised.

Every time I look at that tree, I relive the happy times, hear the laughter, feel the warmth and love of all the Christmas’s past. So, looking back on this post, maybe it’s not the actual decorations that bring me such joy –maybe it’s just the loving memories they trigger. *Sigh*

It's all about choices...

2010-11-27T17:19:00.002-06:00

How do you handle what life throws at you? Do you duck and end up wishing you hadn’t because what you’re standing in is WAY worse than what just flew past your head?

I CHOSE to go shopping on the busiest shopping day of the year. I knew exactly what was about to catapult toward me with frightening speed. But my adventure into the dangerous environment of bargain hunting humans turned out to be laced with several very entertaining moments.

Moment #1 – The Drive-thru Opera:

Coffee! I needed coffee in the worst way at 1:30 a.m. The only place open was a 24 hr. fast food drive thru and everyone in the tri-state area had the exact same idea. So, we pulled into line. 45 minutes later, slightly frustrated and more than ready for our turn, we ease in front of the order box and a cheerful voice SINGS out: “Welcome to XXXX! We’re hap-hap-happy you’re here and we’re doing our best to make your DAAAAYYY better!!!!” Both my daughter and I explode with laughter. How could you remain irritated at a worker willing to greet his customers in such a cheerful way? And when he handed us our order, he smiled a GENUINE smile and wished us good luck in finding all our bargains.

Moment #2 – Be vewwy, vewwy quiet – they’re sleeping:

About three hours into our adventure, I collapsed on a heavenly bench while daughter plowed into her favorite shop across the way. Three older ladies plopped down beside me, dropped their heads against the back of the bench –and proceeded to snore. I would’ve done the same but the one closest to me was sawing them off pretty loud.

Moment #3 – The sales clerk who loved them all:

By the tenth hour of our shopping spree, my tail was wiping out my tracks. I’d grown silent, operating on complete impulse power, auto-pilot guiding me through the motions. I pulled my selections out of the cart and placed them on the counter of our last stop. The poor child chatted the entire time she rang up my purchases, oblivious to the glassy-eyed zombie I’d become. At the end of the chore, she patted me on the shoulder and winked. “You’re so tired: you forgot to give me one of our coupons. I know you’ve probably got it in your purse, so, I gave you the sale price.” With my last shred of energy, I pulled myself out of my lethargy and thanked her for being such a wonderful person. I thought about telling the manager, but I’m not too sure it wouldn’t get her in trouble. So, I’m hoping her good deed will bring her the blessings she deserves.

The moral? Life is what you make of it. How will you handle what’s tossed your way?

As an added note: Laughter is one of the greatest gifts. One of my friends emailed me these cute photo’s that brought a smile to my face. Enjoy!

Have I been here before?

2010-11-21T11:01:00.000-06:00

Have you ever had that eerie tingling sensation of familiarity with a place that’s entirely new? You know the one. All the tiny hairs coating your flesh ripple to attention as though summoned by some unseen force. Your entire being recognizes your surroundings and nudges your consciousness even though you struggle to deny it. It’s not possible. You know you’ve never been there before. Wikipedia’s definition of déjà vu is as follows:

Déjà vu (French pronunciation: [deʒa vy] (meaning "already seen") is the experience of feeling sure that one has already witnessed or experienced a current situation, even though the exact circumstances of the previous encounter are uncertain and were perhaps imagined. The term was coined by a French psychic researcher, Émile Boirac (1851–1917) in his book L'Avenir des sciences psychiques ("The Future of Psychic Sciences"), which expanded upon an essay he wrote while an undergraduate. The experience of déjà vu is usually accompanied by a compelling sense of familiarity, and also a sense of "eeriness," "strangeness," "weirdness," or what Sigmund Freud calls "the uncanny." The "previous" experience is most frequently attributed to a dream, although in some cases there is a firm sense that the experience has genuinely happened in the past.

Some people believe in it. Some don’t. I guess that’s normal for anything unexplainable. I’ve always kept an open mind about such things. My family used to give me the collective eye roll when I’d wink and explain that the reason I couldn’t wear turtlenecks was because, in a past life, someone must’ve strangled me. Imagine their expressions, when we discovered that one of my poor ancestors suffered hanging and then burning after accusations of witchcraft. Now, I’m not saying that she was me...or I’m her…but who knows?

I experienced the eerie feeling of déjà vu quite strongly a couple of times during our tour of Scotland and Ireland. The first rush to my senses occurred while standing at the edge of Culloden field. My bones ached with the desolate chill of the place. Sorrow. Futility. Despair. The wind reeked with sadness. I couldn’t stay on the battlefield very long. I told hubby I couldn’t bear the cold and retreated to the coffee shop inside the museum and waited for everyone else to finish their tour. I knew my ancestors had taken part in the Jacobite uprising. I don’t know if I ever walked on that field before but I knew I couldn’t walk it again.

The second rush of “welcome back” came to me while standing at the Cliffs of Moher in Ireland. You see, my ancestors that weren’t slaughtered during the Jacobite uprising escaped or were herded to Ireland. I remember my brother found a scrawled statement in one of the papers that they’d left the land of their hearts and fallen in love with the beautiful women of the green isle. Hope. Yearning. Homesickness.
The air-splitting caw of a solitary crow shouted these words across the wind. This crow kept pace with us while we enjoyed the lovely cliffs. I wondered if he was trying to remind me that I’d been there before. What do you think? Have we walked these paths before?

Are you SURE you've got the right address?

2010-11-14T15:16:00.000-06:00

We received a lovely red envelope in the mail yesterday. Well, I say "we". Actually, it was addressed to my husband. Early on in our thirty-odd year marriage, we established this rule: what's HIS is mine and what's MINE is mine. So, after I admired the weight of the mystery packet for a split second, I ripped it open. A card bearing the word Free Gift immediately grabbed my attention. My inner bargain-hunting beast stirred from it's murky depths, rumbling with a hungry growl. "Free? We LUVZ free." Interest captured, I read the rest of the colorful card, then exploded with an unrestrained snort.

"What's so funny?" Hubby asked, peering over my shoulder at HIS mail.

Tapping on the card, I drew his attention to the following statement (direct quote from the card):

"This limited time offer is extended only to a select group of candidates whose lifestyles match our world class community."

"Did you know we had a lifestyle?" I asked as I pushed up the sleeve of my favorite faded sweatshirt currently sporting enough dog hair to build another pet.

Hubby grinned and replied, "I think they'd be a little surprised if we showed up at their establishment."

Now, don't get me wrong. I consider us extraordinarily wealthy. Our cozy little home brims with character, fairly bursting at the seams with love and laughter. We each have our own vehicle and more than enough food to satisfy our needs.

But hubby and I are a down-to-earth, middle-class couple and we've got a rather bad habit of speaking our minds when we're so inclined. My idea of a rocking good time is sitting in the porch swing in my backyard watching Hubby grill steaks for our family. Oh --and hot dogs and marshmallows. Our granddaughter's not too wild about steak.

Yes. We've traveled a bit --after working overtime to foot the bill and then scheduling vacation from our jobs. And while I consider us rich beyond measure, I don't think we fit the mailer's definition of "select group of candidates".

When it's all said and done, I believe the MAIN reason we don't fit into this elite group is because we don't want to be a part of their community. Their aloof statement offended me. Who are they to judge?

So, they are welcome to keep their free gift (a set of golf clubs - complete with a bag and yes, Hubby has been known to play cow pasture pool on rare occasions). Hubby and I choose to pass on this offer. I think we're going start our own elite community and we're going to let everyone join...even them. But they have to bring their own hot dogs.

Nature vs. Nurture – which is it and should you even care?

2010-11-12T17:21:00.000-06:00

The debate of Nature vs. Nurture has been tossed about for years. It all boils down to the obvious conundrum: are we born this way or do our experiences mold us? Does it have to be one or the other? Could it be a combination of the two? As a writer, why should you care?

I’m no scientist or psychologist. I can’t prove or disprove either side of the argument. But as to why a writer should care is easy. By using nature AND nurture, layers of personality add depth to our characters to either endear or alienate them with our readers. A strong heroine triumphing over adversity triggers loyalty and affection. A character turned bad due to a history of abuse launches emotions ranging from heartfelt sympathy to an exploding sense of injustice and thirst for retribution. But writer beware. How you mold your character’s traits had best be plausible or you’ll catapult your readers right out of the story.

I’m a people watcher. I’ve studied them in an attempt to nail down believable reactions to outer influences. But have you ever noticed how reality often laughs at what “should” be? There are no constants when it comes to humans. Not every woman victimized by years of abuse turns out weak and unable to cope. Case in point: Oprah Winfrey. No one can deny the obstacles she’s overcome in becoming one of the most successful women of today. What made her different? Was it some special strand in her DNA enabling her to succeed? Or was it one particular life-changing event or person that led her through the darkness? Or was it a combination? We’ve read what she thinks. What do you think?

On the other side of the spectrum, we’ve all heard stories of the well-blessed child growing up to be a serial killer. What happened there? Close to my hometown, several years ago, we had just such a shocking incident. The seemingly well-adjusted son of a successful lawyer showed up at school, whipped out a gun and opened fire on his classmates. Everyone was astounded. Did he do it because he'd always been a loner and never quite fit in at school? Some blamed video games. I shudder to think that’s what caused the unexplainable violence. At the time the massacre occurred, video games couldn’t hold a candle to the games our children play now. The boy had everything he ever wanted, was well-loved and taken care of by his family. So, what went wrong? Nature?

I don’t know that there’s a correct answer to the question. What do you think? Have you ever read a book where the writer shaped the character by circumstances that were impossible to believe? How would you have told the story?

Have you thanked a Freedom Defender lately?

2010-11-10T19:06:00.000-06:00

I know it's been blogged about a thousand times and in a thousand different ways. But it bears repeating. We owe the dedicated men and women of our armed forces, both past and present, an enormous debt of gratitude.

My husband served in the United States Air Force for almost ten years. Now it seems like a lifetime ago. We were a "lucky" military family. Yes, we relocated every two years. And no, not a single member of our family met our youngest daughter until she was eighteen months old because she was born overseas. But I considered us lucky since my husband served during a time of peace. I didn't spend months or years of my life wondering if I would soon be widowed and left alone with two children.

Sometimes, we were seperated for months at a time while he attended training. But thankfully, he was never sent to any hellish places filled with enemies plotting the most effective means of torture or battlefields exploding with action. Even though we were apart, I always knew he was safe.

I might not always agree with where they're sent or what our brave service members are required to do. But I am eternally grateful to them. Because of them, I'm free to post my opinions on this blog without fear someone is going to burst into my house and drag me off to some dank, cold prison. Thanks to them, I sleep a little easier at night because I know they're doing their best to keep our country safe.

So, even though the "thank you's" have been said a thousand times, I feel it's never said often enough. Too many of these courageous souls return to their families in a flag-draped box, or worse yet - they never return at all. I appreciate the sacrifices each of them have made and I also extend that gratitude to their families. Remember them. Honor them. They've more than deserved it. This post is for the defenders of our freedom.

Could this be what I think it is?

2010-10-27T18:44:00.000-05:00

I wonder if the veil between worlds is thinner in Scotland? Take a close look at this picture. Do you see the curling wisp of white smoke twisting up over the wall of Edinburgh Castle? I snapped this shot while touring the castle during our trip at the beginning of this month. I wanted a picture of the great view across Edinburgh and especially the coal-tarnished spire of the church on the right.

I didn't notice this odd-looking stream of white smoke crossing the picture until we'd arrived home and printed the pictures. I use a digital camera and always check the shots on the viewer plus we downloaded the pics onto my netbook each night when we returned to our room.

There also wasn't a sign of any smoke anywhere that day. I've got the nose of a prize-winning bloodhound coupled with a monstrous sensitivity to smoke of any kind. I'm a reformed smoker, haven't had a cigarette in over twenty years. I’m a better smoke detector than the sort that needs batteries.

When I saw this phenomena the first time, I asked my husband if he remembered any smoke that day and jokingly added that perhaps it was one of our ancestors saying hello from the other side.

My husband descends from Clan Maxwell. My lineage traces back to the MacDonalds. Perhaps this visitor wished to be noticed by its descendants from "across the pond".

We'll never be certain what it was that day and I know some folks will laugh and blow it off. But I hope it was one of our long ago kin making contact from the other side. I wish them peace and safe journey.

How much is too much?

2010-10-23T14:12:00.000-05:00

While talking to another author earlier today, I was asked how I thought I was doing in the Writing With the Stars contest. After swallowing hard, I kind of shook my head and confessed that I had misgivings about this voting stuff. He didn't quite understand what I meant until I expounded on my doubts. "I'm afraid I'm not very good at putting myself out there and scrounging up votes. I don't want to alienate people by constantly harping on and on about the contest."

He immediately bobbed his head in agreement. "I know exactly what you mean. I just unfollowed and unfriended this one individual because of their incessant posts and tweets about nothing but buying their book. That's all they ever did. Read this excerpt. The buy links right here. I finally had enough - I GOT THE MESSAGE. All they ever talked about was selling that damn book."

Which begs the question: how much is too much? Twitter, Facebook, Myspace - there's an endless list of social networks out there that authors use to get the word out about their stories, connect with their readers and let them know what's going on in their world.

But I've decided this global marketing thing can be much like walking a tight rope. I have to admit, I've grown a little weary at times with people who seem to hold down that BUY MY BOOK button on the various forums. Don't get me wrong, I love hearing about the new releases and reading the excerpts a couple of times...but when it's endless, it gets a bit old. My book, BEYOND A HIGHLAND WHISPER comes out in February. Will I be guilty of doing the same thing? I hope not. Knowing my fear of irritating people (writer = introvert), I'll run the risk of not talking it up enough.

I'm of the mind that blogging about the other stuff in our lives (trips, pet's antics, adorable kids, writing stuff) will (hopefullly) be more welcomed in the "readersphere" then a constant stream of BUY MY BOOK. Of course, I could be dead wrong and just fooling myself into thinking this so I'll have an excuse not to pester people. What do you think? How do we as authors strike the perfect balance?

By the way *ahem* and *clearing throat with a shy gulp* - the link to vote on round one is here if you'd like to help me out. Tomorrow is the last day to vote in this round:
http://www.rtbookreviews.com/content/writing-stars-vote-first-paragraph-and-last-line

Sigh I danced with a handsome Irishman!

2010-10-19T18:50:00.000-05:00

Have you ever experienced one of those once in a lifetime moments? The kind that makes it utterly impossible to stop smiling? While on our tour of Ireland, I had one of those moments that still elicits a *happy sigh* everytime I replay it in my head.

One night of our visit was spent enjoying the lively entertainment at Tayor's Three Rock Pub. Celtic musicians, wondrous dancers that could've starred in a Broadway production of Riverdance and an Irish comedian so funny he had us gasping between bursts of laughter filled the evening.

During the livelier tunes and the dancer's heart thumping steps, I clapped along with the music and tapped my foot in time with the Celtic beat. The music sang to my soul.

At the onset of the final performance, the emcee announced the Celtic dancers would be choosing partners from the audience to join them in the final reel. I knew I wouldn't be chosen. I was well back from the front row, perfectly safe in my middle of the crowd seat. Or so I thought.

I'd turned to take a sip of water and my husband leaned in close and whispered, "You're had."

I looked up and a lovely, dark-eyed Irishman stood in front of me with his hand extended.

I shook my head. "Oh no, I can't."

He flashed his wicked smile, grabbed my hand and pulled me up from my seat. "Oh yes, ye can!"

And we danced. Well. He danced. I hopped up and down on one foot and tried to follow his grinning instructions to move this way, spin now, cross here, and etc., etc.

At the end of the reel, he gave me a warm hug and a hearty, "Well done."

I melted. Yes. I'm old enough to be the striking lad's mother. Yes. I hopped up and down on my one good foot like a lame duck. (I'd broken the other one earlier in the trip.) But in my memories, I floated light as a feather across the floor with a darling Irishman!

A Writer's Alphabet

2010-10-16T10:42:00.000-05:00

See the new footwear I acquired when I returned home from my trip? My husband thinks I'm extremely hard-headed. I prefer to think of it as determined. On day one of our trip to Scotland and Ireland, I twisted my way down a step and managed to break two bones in my foot. On day two, I did it again. Apparently, I'm a slow learner. However, I have now FINALLY learned that while walking down steps and taking pictures, PAY ATTENTION TO WHERE YOU PUT YOUR FEET. The reason my husband believes I'm a bit stubborn is because I didn't go to the doctor until we returned. I gimped around on my lame foot for two weeks because I didn't want to deal with a clinic visit during my trip.

Anyway, for some strange reason (I have no idea why my mind works the way it does)...my silly head used this mishap to come up with the following writer's alphabet.

A - is for author. I write stories. Hey, that's me!
B - is for bestseller. That's what I want my books to be.
C - is for cliche. Bad things! Everyone's heard it a thousand times.
D - is for determined. If you're not determined...you won't survive.
E - is for email. It can make or break your day.
F - is for Facebook. A social place for work and play.
G - is for gulp. What you do when you get a reply about your book.
H - is for happy. What you are when an editor requests another look.
I - is for impatient. What an author must learn not to be.
J - is for job. We do this when we'd rather be writing.
K - is for kindness. Authors thrive when this is laced through a constructive critique.
L - is for looney. Some people think we're this just because we listen to the "voices" of our muse.
M - is for manuscript. The official word for our babies that we've nudged out into the world.
N - is for neverending. There's always a story brewing.
O - is for opinion. Everyone has one - sometimes good and sometimes bad. *sigh*
P - is for proof. We do this a THOUSAND times and still don't see that one error until AFTER we've hit SEND.
Q - is for query. A plea to editors, agents and publishers to please love our "baby" as much as we do.
R - is for revise. If we revise it just one more time...maybe then it will be perfect.
S - is for story. That's what it's all about.
T - is for tension. What a good story has.
U - is for unwavering. An author must never give up.
V - is for voice. Find your "one of a kind" voice and shine!
W - is for writing. What else would we do if not for writing our lovely tales?
X - marks the spot to sign on the contract we all hope to win.
Y - is for yelling at the computer when it doesn't save your file.
Z - is for Rebecca Zanetti - my great mentor in the Writing With the Stars contest! http://www.rtbookreviews.com/content/writing-stars-vote-first-paragraph-and-last-line

How about your writer's alphabet? What "descriptions" would you use?

Sage Advice

2010-09-27T17:31:00.000-05:00

How do the very young become so very wise? My six year old granddaughter and I sat on the porch swing, enjoying the refreshing autumn breeze on a Sunday afternoon. She'd found a wondrous rock, all smooth and shining with the most interesting indentations around the circumference of its egg-shaped surface. This special rock exuded magical properties. It was a wishing rock. She informed me we needed to hold this lucky rock against our foreheads, close our eyes and make our wishes. The rock allowed us each three wishes. I didn't know how she knew this, but such sincerity shone in her clear blue eyes, I didn't doubt her a bit.

She held the rock to her forehead, closed her eyes and made her wishes. Then she pressed the cool stone of promise against my brow so that I could make mine. I made my wishes. Who wouldn't take a chance at a little extra luck? I opened my eyes and asked her what else we should do to make certain our wishes came true? Did we need to keep them a secret? What were the wishing rock's rules?

Her eyes widened and she stared at me. "YaYa, don't you know the secret to making all your wishes come true?"

I squirmed a bit beneath such scrutiny, reluctant to admit the truth. "No. What's the secret?"

"It's easy," she said. "All you have to do is believe in yourself."

My heart swelled at the sincerity in her tone. Such wise advice coming from one so young. She knew the secret and I didn't. I thanked her for teaching me such a simple lesson that I wish I'd learned long ago.

You might be a writer if...

2010-09-21T18:10:00.000-05:00

(Image: Suat Eman/FreeDigitalPhotos.net)

While getting ready for work this morning, the strange little idiosyncrasies attributed to the writing life started whirring through my head. So, I decided to take a moment to jot them down. See if you agree.

You might be a writer if:

1. When you open your eyes in the morning and look at the pillow beside you, there's a synonym finder, a dictionary, The Chicago Manual of Style and a sleeping laptop instead of your husband. He ended up sleeping in the recliner (again) because there wasn't any room in the bed for him.

2. The acronyms GMC and POV have nothing to do with a car manufacturer or a privately owned vehicle.

3. When your friends see "that" look on your face, they beg you not to write them into one of your books.

4. When you come across a particularly musical name, a character complete with an enthralling personality pops into your head and starts chatting about their life.

5. Music, pictures, a funny ad on T.V. --anything can jolt free a herd of plot bunnies hippity-hopping through your mind.

6. You drive past your exit on the way to your destination because a story is live-streaming in 3D Technicolor through your head.

7. Coffee and chocolate are two MAJOR food groups.

8. Your heart jumps into your throat whenever you receive an email with the word "Query" in the subject line along with the title of your manuscript.

9. Your inbox averages hundreds of emails at any given time because of all the writer's loops you subscribe to--and you've got most of them set to digest.

10. On Twitter you stalk...er...follow every editor, publisher, and agent interested in your genre so you can catch those golden tidbits of industry news.

11. You have to set time limits on Facebook, Twitter, and reading other writer's fascinating blogs or your work in progress suffers from neglect.

And that said, my time is almost up! Do any of these writer's traits fit you?