Elyssa's Place

Moving to a new Playground

2008-06-05T20:17:00.000-07:00

I've made a decision. I write under two different names for a couple of reasons. First of all, there is the idea of brand identification. As Elyssa Edwards I write romantic erotica. I write stories of love and passion between adults for adults. As Jacqueline Roth, I write your regular romance, usually paranormal or fantasy. I write about adults in love and they express that love as adults are want to do, just not as often or as bluntly as the stories penned by Elyssa. The second reason is that those who might identify me as Jacqueline Roth might also have a problem with the adult content of the Elyssa stories.

I have been maintaining two blogs. It is silly and I no longer have the energy nor do I care enough about someone else's sensibilities to do double work.

So I am forthwith combining the two blogs into one. Which one was a simple choice, the one with the most traffic and that happens to be the Jacqueline Roth site. So if you've wandered here looking for Elyssa know I'm delighted you found me. Just one more click and you'll find all parts of me again united:

Come and Play at www.jacquelineroth.blogspot.com

Contest Winner

2008-06-01T17:33:00.000-07:00

I took all the entries and wrote the names out. Put the slips in a bag, shook it up and drew. The winner of the copy of Seeing Me and the deck of Ellora's Silver Screen playing cards is:

Molly Daniels!

Congratulations Molly. If you'll email me at jae@jacquelineroth.com and let me know what format you want your book in and what address I should mail the cards to, I'll get them out to you.

I am surprisingly unsunburned today. I have very fair skin that matches my sandy brown hair and blue eyes. I can (I swear this to you, I did it just last week) burn through the car window. I'm fairly close to vampire status where sun and flaming skin are concerned. But aside from a bit of pink on the back of my neck, the one place I was assured I did not need more sunscreen, I am only a pink tinged person at the moment.

We spent the morning at the Georgia Renaissance Festival. Today was the last day and we had to miss the festival last year because I had a dislocated knee. Not something I recommend to anyone. I love looking at all the crafts and vendors shops. We have our own costumes that we use for other things throughout the year, but we always decide not to dress for the actual festival and I always regret it once we’re there.

What could we possibly use them for during the year? Well for me it’s the introduction to fairytales, folktales, myths and legends that I do for my students. I have a light blue over dress, shift and a big floppy hat that I use to dress as Mother Goose for the opening of that unit. Even at the middle school age they get a kick out of it. I also have a costume for the start of Greek Mythology that dresses me in a chiton. I’m still looking for a gold oil lamp to complete that costume as if I have to dress as a goddess I’d prefer to be Hestia. She’s my favorite of the Greek pantheon because she’s so devoted to just helping people. She never gets involved in their wars or battles. She’s sort of like the divine Switzerland. I have a WIP that includes her as a minor character.

Every year we go past the swords and staffs and every year I really want to buy one of the staff’s that has the blade on one end. I’m going to do it eventually because it’s going to be the weapon of choice for a character that hasn’t been given a story yet. She has to wait a while before she can be “born”. I also prefer the staffs in general for myself. My stepfather was a military man. He believed all of us girls should be able to defend ourselves. He taught us not just your basic self defense moves, but he also taught us to use things like throwing stars. And I learned the use of the staff from him. If you know how to use one, you can find a suitable substitute almost anywhere. That’s probably why my heroine in my first “battle scene” used a staff.

Oh, and he also taught us all how to take down a man with one finger. There’s this pressure point that if you can hit it… crying on their knees, my friends. But for legal reasons I’m not going to tell you where it is. All I need is for someone to hurt someone because they read my blog. And no, it’s not where you think though he always taught us to go for that if we could. He was very nervous about having several teenage daughters. This is the man who dragged out his knife collection and started sharpening them the first time a boy who wasn’t family or part of our neighborhood gang came over to my house. He wanted no question as to his position on things.

We did buy some interesting things today. I bought a print of Azriel-The Angel of Death. It’s this gorgeous black and white print by Ruth Thompson. She does a whole series of the Arch-Angels. My SO was more practical. Drawing on the “Catch the Reading Bug” theme of the 2008 summer reading program for libraries we ended up with a pendant and a bracelet that contain actual bugs. The bugs are enclosed in clear acrylic and have natural cording or leather straps. They are sure to be a hit with the kids this summer. I also raided the natural tea shop and stocked up for the year. The flower tea they sell is wonderful and the company doesn’t have online capability so I have to wait for the Ren Fest every year.

Taking a break from excerpts today and I don’t have any new reads to recommend. I’ve been spending my free time working on a couple of bibs. And I keep getting shot down on my suggestions for painting the new dresser. I like painting the base white to match the walls and then painting each door front a different primary or secondary color. This from the person whose house was done in purely black and white before I moved in and started mussing about and adding…gasp…color!

Two more days of contest time

2008-05-30T19:01:00.000-07:00

Two more days left on the contest to celebrate the end of the school year and the beginning of my usual writing spurt. Summer is when I get most of my writing done. So, I will put the names of everyone who responds to my blog this week into a hat and draw. I’ll give the winner a copy of Seeing Me and a deck of the Ellora’s Cave Silver Screen playing cards.

I’ve had a reviewer and a couple of readers comment recently about the hero in Seeing Me. You see he doesn’t have a name. At no point in the story do I give the actor in question a name. My decision seems vindicated by the response I’ve gotten which all came from people who got why I didn’t name him. I wanted the reader to be able to see whoever, whatever “type” they found most appealing into the role. Are you a Harrison Ford lover? See him in the part. George Clooney? Yep, could be him. Johnny Depp? Orlando Bloom? Or even my friend Llew’s favorite Sean Bean? Yep, could be him.

Who did I see in the role? That I’ll never tell.

Today’s excerpt comes from the July release Lovers’ Stone. Luke Ursine is the brother of Mark Ursine whose story was told in Mating Stone. Luke is your typical bad boy, a full on alpha male who loves to play the Dom. While standing watch for a family member who was searching for his mating stone in the clan’s sacred caves, Luke falls asleep only to be awakened by the sound of someone calling his name.

EXCERPT: Caution. Some adult language and content.

Luke rose and walked slowly to the archway and stopped. Each of the other twelve corridors led to rooms that held stones. A male picked the path whose stones corresponded to the birth stone of the female he hoped to mate with. Only one stone in the tens of thousands that filled this mountain would support the mating of a particular couple. Supposedly if the mating was not meant to be, he would not find the stone. Wade had searched through hundreds of gems to find the right one. He’d told Luke it had sung to him the minute he touched it. Wade said it had glowed and the face of his future mate had appeared in its depths. More, it had vibrated in such a way that he’d become instantly aroused and his need to join with his mate had burned like a fire in his body.

But this center corridor, this thirteenth passage was one that was never used. It could not be entered except by those who were called. And to Luke’s knowledge no one had been called down this path in so long what lay at its end had become legend. An oasis of lovers’ stones the lore said. A collection of stones from each of the caves but they were more than just simple mating stones. These stones were for those Weres who were tied to another by destiny. The two bound by a lovers’ stone were destined for more than mating bliss. Theirs was to be a great life-long love. To Luke it sounded like more than legend. It sounded like bullshit.

The mist swirled around him and Luke’s legs carried him of their own volition through the arch and down the narrow tunnel. There were no torches here, only the glow of the golden fog lit his way. He heard the voice call again. “Where are you? I can’t see you.” It was a woman’s voice.

He heard nothing but the voice. Not even his inexplicably bare feet made a sound on the stone floor. He took turn after turn following the light that pulled him along. Abruptly the fog rose to the ceiling just in front of him taking the shape of a doorway through which he could not see. He heard her calling again. She was looking for someone. She was looking for him. The realization lifted something inside him. He stepped through a large bank of the golden mist and found himself in a vaulted chamber. In the center of the room was a shimmering pool surrounded by large low pallets filled with cushions and pillows. Directly across from him an identical doorway had formed. Before it, watching him with large frightened eyes was a woman. Her long black hair was loose and flowed down her back. The blue eyes glowed so brightly for a moment he considered that she might be a succubus but dismissed the thought. No creature could have gained entrance here except those who were like him. Only another Were could have entered the cave, let alone this most sacred place. Or that was what they’d always been told.

The woman was dressed in a long, red satin nightgown with thin straps that barely contained the full breasts that threatened to overflow the bodice. Her hips curved in a way that made a man long to run his hands over them, to hold tightly to them as he thrust inside her. The pull she seemed to be exerting over him was stronger than any desire he’d ever felt. Screw mating stones, just looking at this woman was making him hard.

[…]

He opened his eyes slowly and they focused on a large vaulted ceiling painted with gold and silver celestial patterns. He was instantly awake. He wasn’t in the outer room. He wasn’t sleeping on the bench. He remembered in a flash of panic. He was in the inner chamber lying on a soft pallet of cushions. The forbidden inner chamber. He lay there listening to Rand’s voice but not hearing it. Because beyond the inconvenience of being in a chamber that was supposed to be off limits, beyond the fact that he was lying there naked was the fact that he could feel something cool and hard clenched in his left hand.

Luke sat up slowly and lifted his hand. He opened his palm. In the center lay a rough cut, bright red stone. It glowed and vibrated in his hand. The pulse that moved through him made his body stir. He heard a voice in the back of his mind whisper his name. Lifting the roughly heart-shaped gem he looked into it and saw a raven-haired siren with bright blue eyes gazing back at him.

“Oh shit,” Luke closed his eyes. This was not happening. This could not happen. That stone. He’d not come here seeking it but there was no mistaking it. He felt her somewhere in the back of his mind, he felt her body against him though she wasn’t there. He smelled her on his skin. The woman had been real and in his hand lay the proof of it. In his hand lay his mating stone.

Him? The man his own brother referred to as Lucas “screw the whole world and everyone in it” Ursine? And that was when he wasn’t pissed at him. But how? To whom? He had to see the Oracle. The Oracle would know. He looked at the stone again. A ruby? He searched his mind for an explanation. Why was he holding a July stone? Bears didn’t give birth in July. As Weres—shapeshifters whose bodies were tied to the animal whose spirit they shared, in their case the bear—they too had “seasons”. Late fall and winter were the birthing months. Spring and early summer the months of conception.

This meant only one thing. She wasn’t one of his people. There were few species in this world with whom a Were could mate. They could mate with the angelus, winged creatures humans often mistook for divine beings. Though rare, they could also join to the fey, a varied group of little creatures that humans called faeries or gnomes. And humans. And since the woman who had just given him the most intense orgasm of his life didn’t have wings and she had full, lush, mouthwatering curves it could mean only one thing. His destined mate was a human.

Luke glared angrily at the red stone. “Just my fucking luck.”

The Decline of...Something

2008-05-29T16:45:00.001-07:00

I’m still offering a contest to celebrate the end of the school year and the beginning of my usual writing spurt. Summer is when I get most of my writing done. So, I will put the names of everyone who responds to my blog this week into a hat and draw. I’ll give the winner a copy of Seeing Me and a deck of the Ellora’s Cave Silver Screen playing cards.

I have to admit that in recent times I’ve been very happy about my quiet little life. But I’ve also become very worried about what is happening to our society and the way that we are showing increasing disrespect toward our fellow human beings. I’ve been more and more sickened by the feeding frenzy that seems to surround individuals who choose to entertain others as part of the way they make a living for themselves and their families.

Yes, I know that when someone becomes a celebrity there is a certain amount of give on the degree of privacy you can expect. If you’re at a public event, someone is going to take your picture. But I’m fairly certain that no where in the contracts of the actors, actresses and musicians of the world are there clauses that say that they give up the right to be human beings and have real lives. They have jobs. Jobs just like the rest of us. I teach children. My dad manufactured cars. My mom was a nanny. Some people carry the mail. Some people fix our cars or computers or sell us things at the local grocery store. None of us gives up our rights to privacy because of our jobs. For the celebrity, their jobs are to make a product that we can view or listen to that will bring entertainment.

Recent photographs of Angelina Jolie have made news because they were topless. But the way I heard the story the woman was inside off a balcony of a house she was staying in when someone caught her with a high power telephoto lens. Excuse me. She wasn’t outside at a topless beach. Then, feel free to click away. She was in the confines of a house where she had an expectation of privacy. If Joe next door took his telephoto lens into his back yard and took pictures of you as you undressed in your own home he’d get arrested. The photographer who photographed Jolie gets paid.

Why do we find it acceptable to strip away someone’s right to be treated with dignity and respect (and trust me there are a lot of other people I’d rather be making this argument on behalf of than Jolie)? I’ve seen two partial episodes of the television show TMZ while waiting for the next program to begin. I was sickened and horrified. During one segment, again on Jolie and her partner Brad Pitt, the photographer was filming them with their sons getting into their car. One of the men present could be clearly heard to call the boys “adoption lottery winners.” That is crude, cruel and crass. Now it’s okay to make their small children the butts of our jokes and to demean their family?

I worry about what this says about our society. How little respect we seem to have for each other’s humanity.

STORY BIT FOR TODAY…

In honor of the blog topic above it just seems right to post another excerpt from Seeing Me. Seeing Me is the story of a new author who is attending her first convention. She is pleasantly surprised to be on the panel with Him. He is a box office star who finds himself under attack by one of the writers on the panel. Cara jumps to his defense and finds that she has his attention along with the attention of everyone in the large ballroom.

When she’s asked to come upstairs for a private signing, she’s stunned to find out it’s for Him. But a slip of the tongue just may ruin any chance she has of getting to know Him better.

EXCERPT;

He sat down next to her and lifted his glass. He took a swallow of the contents then leaned back. “I asked you up here because I wanted to ask you to sign your book for me.”

“You’ve really read my book?” The words and the accompanying incredulity landed between them with an almost audible thud.

He frowned. “Yes. Didn’t my assistant tell you that you were being asked up to sign your book?”

“Yes, but...”

“But you didn’t figure someone like me had read it.”

“No. I never dreamed someone like you would have read it,” she admitted. She was pulling a large sip from her own glass when he stood up and walked away toward the windows.

“I see. You’re surprised that someone like me would even attempt to read such a work. I might muddle through a script alright, but real books are something else.”
She stared at him in shock. “I didn’t say that. That’s not what I meant.”

“Right.” He turned to face her, the orange rays of the sun backlighting him, a golden corona forming about him. His face was blank, a calm practiced look of boredom, but his eyes seemed to be alight with something more. His voice, when he spoke again, betrayed the bitter edge of anger. “It’s fine. I’ve heard it before. Actors are just parrots, right? They look pretty and showy and repeat whatever lines they are taught but understanding those lines is beyond them. We’re just a bunch of ridiculous boys and plasticized bimbos who drink too much, party too much and make way too much money for standing around playing pretend like a bunch of preschoolers. Look, I’m sorry I got you out of your reception.”

“Wait a minute,” she stood up. “That isn’t what I meant and I certainly never said those things. It seems to me that if anyone is jumping to stereotypes here, it’s you. I’m a writer so I must be self-important and egotistical? I must be absolutely certain that every word that falls from my pen is pure genius? Someone’s ego is involved here but I don’t think it’s mine.”

He just looked at her, his brow creasing, slight confusion etched on his face. The hurt was still in those dark eyes, and it was as if he wasn’t entirely sure he was really hearing the words she was saying.

“Look when I said I didn’t expect someone like you to have read my book I meant I didn’t expect it would even be noticed by someone like you. It’s an obscure piece of drivel by an unknown author who only got invited today because she’s a local girl. Hell, if I hadn’t been a volunteer for this convention for the last few years no one here would have given me the time of day.” She wanted him to believe her. Wanted it badly. For some reason it mattered a great deal that he believe she hadn’t been demeaning his intelligence. “I can’t believe any of those people today actually took time out of their lives to read my book, let alone someone like you who has people pulling him in a hundred directions every minute of the day.”

He pursed his lips and his head dropped. Silence filled the room for a long moment as he stared down at the floor. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m a bit raw from that confrontation downstairs. You might be surprised how often I get that. Not just what that guy said, but the whole thing. I was a marketing tool today. A new and improved product. Bright and shiny, tell your friends. I was being used to sell this conference, to sell the books of every person on that panel. When you first start out it’s sort of cool, look at me and the power my face has. But after a while it gets old.” He lifted wary eyes to hers. “I’m sorry. I made assumptions that were incorrect.”

She simply nodded. The truth in what he was saying was overwhelming. He was right. Every person there today had treated him like the leggy, breasty bimbo who points to the new model of car and says, “Pretty.” Her included. All she had seen was Him. Her first thoughts, if she were honest with herself, had been about the exposure and the attendance this panel was likely to get. Okay, not really. That was her second thought. Her first thought had been that of a giggling fourteen-year-old teenager who was just told she was going to meet her idol. The great movie star whose presence seemed to turn something inside her to jelly. No, not jelly, lava. Red-hot, cascading, chocolate flavored, lava. Sudden thoughts of the possible uses for warm liquid chocolate filled her mind along with the image of herself lapping up said chocolate. Her face, and everything else, grew even warmer.

He stepped toward her. “The truth is I asked you up here for two reasons. One, because I did read your book and I liked it. I was thrilled when I learned today that you’d be on the panel. I hoped at some point during this conference you might sign it and maybe we could talk about it. I decided to ask you up here to do just that because of what you said down there. Not that you took my side, but that you called the guy out for his hypocrisy.” He let a slow grin slide over his lips, “That and the fact that those were some of the most original metaphors for sex I’d ever seen. Not to mention the accompanying illustration.”

She hadn’t believed it possible, but she flushed even more and he lowered his head. He looked down and then lifted his eyes to hers. The move gave his face a sweet, naughty little boy expression that stirred something inside her. “What do you say? Now that we’ve already had our first fight, do you think we could sit down and talk about your book?”

Contests, excerpt, ranting and raving.

2008-05-26T12:34:00.000-07:00

Okay, to make up for my ranting and raving as well as to celebrate the last week of school, I’m going to offer a contest. I will put the names of everyone who responds to my blog this week into a hat and draw. I’ll give the winner a copy of Seeing Me and a deck of the Ellora’s Cave Silver Screen playing cards. As most of you know, I write under another name for my more mainstream fiction. I will be combining the comments on both blogs for the contest.

EXCERPT FROM SEEING ME

“And then you come…”Cara jerked her head up at the sound of the words. He gave a short harsh cough, took a sip of water and continued. “Sorry, and then you come to the pivotal moment in the story and if you aren’t focused you can ruin what needs to be the payoff for the viewer.” He cleared his throat again, “That’s why it’s important to me to be able to commit myself to one project at a time. It makes having a personal life of any kind hard, but there are often sacrifices you have to make.”

Looking down she realized she’d actually sketched the body of the nude male, no face, but his hands were definitely…

She felt the heat wash over her cheeks and lowered her head letting her hair fall across her face. She flipped the page over on the table and continued her list. She should choose a safer topic, but right now she doubted her mind could focus on anything else.
The questions continued from the audience and she thought she noticed Him grow a bit uncomfortable. True ninety-nine percent of the questions were for him, but that was something she was actually grateful for. God help her if someone asked her a question right now.

She was up to twenty on her new list, having just added the delightfully archaic “deflowering,” when she heard the voice of the angry writer from earlier denounce the idea of film representation of his books as a bastardization of the art, as selling out for the money. “No screenwriter, no director, no actor can do justice to a well written story or character without cheapening it, without robbing it of some essential element that a given reader holds dear,” he’d practically sneered. “So there’s no chance I’d ever sell one of my stories to the commercial Hollywood machine.”

“Are you crazy?” The words were out of her mouth before she realized she had spoken them. “You’d sell your left testicle if someone wanted to make a movie from one of your books with that kind of budget.” She waved her hand at the actor and author who were being criticized.

There was an undercurrent of laughter and she suddenly realized everyone in the room was looking at her. He was looking at her and wearing that wickedly seductive smile that had put him in the pages of many a magazine. Her face flushed hotly and she looked down at her hands. I can’t believe I said that, she moaned silently. The moderator quickly swung the conversation back on track. A quick glance down the table saw that indeed, the offended writer was glaring at her in disgust. Great, just great, she thought. He’s got a twenty times my sales, we share the same agent and I go and piss him off. Well, it was nice while it lasted. My agent is going to kill me.

And so on and so forth…..

If you want a really good blog, go check out some of the folks on the left. They are much better at this than I am.

More Lonely Than The Maytag Repairman?

2008-05-18T17:21:00.000-07:00

Last September I attended Dragon*Con in Atlanta, Georgia. Those who know me know I love this particular convention. They draw upwards of 40,000 people each year for the Labor Day weekend gathering. It is a terrific way to feed a science fiction/fantasy appetite. There are tracks celebrating every imaginable fandom including the major movie and tv franchises, Gothic (horror), anime, music and almost anything else. The thing about Dragon*Con is that if you can imagine it, it will be there. I even set my Quickie from Ellora’s Cave, Seeing Me, at the event.

They started a YA track about four or five years ago mostly surrounding the Harry Potter craze. It has now expanded to include a wider variety of YA lit and authors including Holly Black who wrote Tithe and The Spiderwick Chronicles. And it’s something that Black said at the appearance that has me thinking today, many months later. Black said that writing was the loneliest of professions. She talked about how hard it can be to be sitting alone at your desk or in your office and just write. How you can’t meet someone for a break at the water cooler or just stick your head over the cubicle to remember that other people actually exist or get feedback.

As I sat and listened to her I thought how very right she was. Most of us write our stories in isolation or at least in a temporary isolation so we can focus on our characters and hear their voices. She talked about the importance of first readers, people who see your work before any editor does. These are the people who keep you honest. They don’t let you cheat. She encouraged people to find writer’s groups to work with for first readers or for critiques.

I agree with most of Black’s comments that day, but I’ve come to believe I missed her point originally. I have to admit, now, several months after my first book was published, I feel differently. I think writing can be the loneliest profession but that it shouldn’t be and it can’t be if it’s good writing. We cannot create in a vacuum and expect it to connect to a reader, let alone many readers.

Writing my first manuscript over five years ago was a very lonely experience. I didn’t tell anyone I was doing it, not even my SO. I did it one summer as I had all day free every day since I was on summer break from school. I hid what I wrote away and no one saw it until I had completely finished it. And you know what? I wasn’t very good. It actually was rather bad. It was a fanfiction filled with every terrible cliché of the genre. It should probably be burned to save mankind from ever reading such a horrible thing again. But I learned from the experience. I learned that I could do this.

I also ended up finding a community of people among the fanfic group that I still have very close ties with today. Many of them comprise my current workshop group and they will be positively honest about my stuff and tell me when I miss the mark. Having a community is also an empowering experience. Once I “came out” as a writer, it was a relief. When someone said, “What did you do last night?” my answer was no longer, “nothing.” I can proudly say, “Oh, I wrote last night.”

I started thinking about all this today as I wrote the final battle scene for my current WIP. I have no military experience and I have no clue how to go about planning a battle. My step dad is ex Air Force, but this was a land battle and he’s a bit busy lately with my mother being ill. But about couple of weeks ago I was thinking ahead to this scene as I sat at lunch. I realized then I had a military expert sitting next to me at the table. Eddie is the teacher all the kids like. He has an affable personality, he’s quick with a joke, and the kids know he always fair. He is also in the Army Reserve. He’s served in Afghanistan. He comes from a military family. Here was this perfect resource, but to use it I had to reach out and admit that I needed help and why. So I did.

I told Eddie I was writing a battle scene and drew it out for him. He looked at it and gave me detailed descriptions of how he would defend the position my hero needed to defend. I took notes on a napkin, listened intently to the why as well as the what. I couldn’t use all of what he gave me, but I could use the gist of it. Because I’m writing a fantasy, there are some things I don’t need to worry about.

“Then they’ll try to wade across the river,” he advised. I put my hand up and said, “No, they can’t. The river won’t let them.” “Ah,” he said, “it moves too fast here.” “No,” I assured him. “But the river won’t let them cross.” I explained it was magic and he simply nodded and went on. I’m not only “out” as a writer, but as a fantasy writer.

The important thing was, Eddie made me see I had to rethink the way I saw the scene happening. I saw it as a writer sees it. Big show downs and lots of cool speeches and comments from people. Very theatrical. But after listening to Eddie talk, I realized if I wanted anything resembling normalcy I’d have to rethink my vision of the battle. It sucks to learn you can’t use the cool scene in your head, but I’d rather have something remotely believable than something cool.

An hour or so later a second military expert crossed my path. Curtis is the kind of teacher I want to be when I grow up. He’s amazing. He always has a smile on his face and he finds a way to connect to the kids we teach. But Curtis was also in military intelligence during his days of service. So I showed Curtis the plan and asked him how he would attack. He pointed out that the mission would most likely be a suicide mission. I explained the bad guys had escape options that included magic and he blinked… then went on. But he had a point. If there was to be any direct hand to hand between my forces, it would be a suicide mission on behalf of the hunters who attack. There was no way they could survive the assault. Those who made their way into the village would have to die and would have to know they were going to die. But was this mission worth that? Was it something that people would get that zealous about? Curtis made me realize I had to tighten up the plot in that respect.

In addition to getting military advice, over the years I’ve had to seek advice on all manner of topics including more risqué issues. *cough* I also have great first readers. My SO will do proof reads from time to time. My friend Steve has been the primary first reader on my WIP to this point. I just posted the battle chapter with a nasty little cliffhanger for him so soon he’ll be ready to throw things at me. I do have that bit of a reputation, cliffies at the end of chapters.

But the community I belong to doesn’t stop with the writing process. I have also been blessed with a tremendous support system for what comes next. Llewellyn McEllis, one of my favorite writers and one day you will all know her name, has been there for me with constant encouragement. Britannia and Barb also have always had my back. Alison and Maureen have been my tireless cheerleaders. And then there are the froggies. The froggies are a talented group of writers who work with the same editor I have at ECPI. They’ve all been incredibly supportive.

Sometimes writing seems like a lonely profession. But no one can produce quality work in a vacuum. We all need the feedback and the support of others.

2008-05-07T18:44:00.000-07:00

Let’s start with a good review for Mating Stone. Amelia Richard at Sensual reviewed Mating Stone and said:

For her new series, Elyssa Edwards crafts a tale where shape-shifters can seem totally normal yet their lives are definitely fascinating. Ms. Edwards takes the paranormal element of being able to change shapes and tells readers a captivating love story with often poignant emotions. Mark and Sarah are a charming couple with their devotion to each other particularly apparent through their actions and words. With tenderness and passion, this couple expresses how they truly feel for each other, and these sentiments are beautifully shown in numerous ways. The inner feelings of these two come across in a powerful way, whether they are reacting with each other or with another being. There are some disclosures which I found to be intriguing, and each one adds a compelling aspect throughout the story. The only problem with the story is I wish it had been longer as this world fascinates me, but I hope to hear more about this couple and those around them when additional books in the series are released. MATING STONE is a magical story with original characters and an engaging plot to keep readers thoroughly entertained.

Thank you, Amelia. I’ve had a lot of fun writing this series which is officially called The Jewels of Ursus. These are three special guys I’m very happy decided to tell me their stories. The sequel to Mating Stone, Lovers’ Stone will be released in July and tells the story of Luke Ursine, Mark’s twin brother. The final book in the trilogy, to be titled Soul Stone, will tell the story of Tarris Ursine, the incubus who is closer than family to Mark and Luke and who appears in both Mating Stone and Lovers’ Stone. Oh, and the last one will be full novel length.

Oh and by the way, if you are looking for a story in the same world as the Ursines, Measure of Healing from Cerridwen Press may do the trick. Whether it’s Jacqueline or Elyssa, our Weres happily cohabitate the world.

I know the review says The Stones Series and that’s not the writer’s fault. I’ve recently discovered a problem with my website not updating a specific page and the working title is still showing.

Mating Stone:

Our hero:

Mark Ursine
Were
Profession: That's a long story.
Age: 154 (looks about 28-29)
Story: Mating Stone by Elyssa Edwards from Ellora's Cave.

Mark is part of a race of shape shifters that found their way to our world before humans had mastered the use of fire. Respectful of the sentient creatures they believed had great potential, the shifters kept to themselves so as not to intefere with their evolution. When disaster collapsed the energy source that allowed them to remain in phase with our world, they tied their spirits to those of animals so that they could survive and remain. Mark is decended from a group that chose to unite with the bear. They do not choose which species of bear they become, that is determined by birth and largely influenced by family bloodlines.

Mark becomes the great brown bear, also known as the Kodiak. When tragedy, his guilt and his brother's blame drove him to distance himself from his family, he didn't realize his time in the human world would introduce him to the one person above all that he could love with his heart and soul. As the oldest it is he who must replace his grandfather as Amar, the leader of their clan. But will his brother Luke allow him to succeed without a challenge? Will his people accept his choice of mate? And once Sarah finds out what he is, will she still want him?

Excerpt:

The night they met had been her birthday. She’d let her sister and some friends talk her into going to a club to celebrate. “Come on Sarah, it’s February 2. It’s your twenty-eighth birthday, so do what all good little groundhogs do and get out. Even if you see your shadow, at least you had fun before you run back and hibernate some more,” her sister had teased until she’d agreed.

She’d not met Mark at the club but afterwards on her way home. Hitting a pothole had blown her tire and while she could change a tire herself—hell, like any good ol’ Minnesota girl she could change a tire, put on her own snow chains and knew how to use the jumper cables in her trunk—she just didn’t relish doing it in the short skirt her sister had talked her into wearing.

Resigning herself to ruining her stockings and probably the new skirt, she’d been hauling the jack and donut from the trunk when a motorcycle had roared up behind her. The headlight had almost blinded her but not as much as what stepped out into the light. Pulling a black helmet from his head the man had been devastating. His black jeans and leather jacket completed a monochromatic feast for the eyes.

Flashing her a smile almost as bright as his headlight he’d insisted he couldn’t let a lady like her change the tire. He’d made short work of the flat even if she did stand there like an idiot and chatter way. By the time he was done he knew it was her birthday and where she’d been. If it had taken any longer she’d hated to think what else would have come bubbling out of her mouth.

He packed her jack back into her trunk and asked her allow him to follow her home since he didn’t have much confidence in the small rubber tire. When she’d hesitated he’d pulled out his driver’s license and a credit card. He put them in her hands. “Hold on to these. If you get spooked at all you know who I am, where I live and can either call the police or charge a fortune for yourself in compensation.”

When they’d arrived at her place she handed them over and smiled nervously. “Thank you just doesn’t seem like enough,” she nodded down to the damp patches on his knees where he’d knelt in the wet snow alongside the road.

“Then have dinner with me tomorrow,” he’d flashed an encouraging smile and she felt as if her bones melted. “That’s all the thanks I need.”

She agreed and had started to walk away when he called out to her. He was pulling something from the storage compartment under the seat and walked quickly up to her. His long legged strides held her so transfixed she didn’t see what he had in his hands. He stopped in front of her and hesitated. She looked up at him. He suddenly seemed shy and uncertain, grinning up at her through the hair that had fallen over his forehead.

“Happy Birthday, Sarah.” He placed a single red rose in her hand. His quick kiss to her cheek was so soft and so fast that she almost missed it. By the time her fingers rose up to touch where he had pressed his lips to her skin, he was back on his bike, turning it and roaring away. Odd but only now did it occur to her to question where on earth he’d gotten the rose.

2008-05-04T18:35:00.001-07:00

Definitely not. Sorry to be so absent, but I have a family crisis at the moment. My mother is in ICU back home and we just got back from spending five days with her and my family. She's doing a lot better than she was as of last Tuesday when she went in, but she's a long way from getting out of the hospital. We could be talking months of extended medical treatment.

So if I'm scarce it's because I'm juggling running 600 miles away as often as possible with writing and work. Thank heavens my boss is a wonderful person.

Bad Blogging Habits

2008-04-26T12:56:00.000-07:00

I've developed bad blogging habits.

I forget to blog and then it seems as if time gets away from me. It's been a stressful week at work and the nausea just doesn't seem to stop. Everyone just laughs knowingly and tells me it's to be expected. I then get to hear all kinds of stories about how when they were pregnant they and their spouse had morning sickness. One friend even told me her husband gained weight with her. I guess the concept of spousal sympathetic morning sickness is more widespread than I'd realized. And yes, we are both suffering from bouts of the nausea.

We're currently trying to decide on how to decorate the nursery. My precious one had a great idea the other day. Children's book characters. With a generic background we could paint book characters around the walls. These could be updated as the child grew up and would be okay until about age 10 or so. We're talking about starting with our favorites such as The Pigeon from Mo' Willems series and Nuffle Bunny as well. There is also Max and Ruby and we can stay pretty neutral in terms of gender.

Okay, I'm off to work on the current WIP.

If I forgot to tell anyone, the previous WIP-Tarris's story from the trilogy about the Ursines- has been accepted for contract by Ellora's Cave. Soul Stone won't be a Jewel as Mating Stone was and Lovers' Stone will be (July), but will stand alone. The series has gotten a new name and I need to update that on my website. The series is now knowns as Jewels of Ursus. Ursus is Latin for Bear and even if Tarris isn't a Bear, his destiny is still tied to the other Bears.

I'll make sure I post the cover and the release date when I have them. I'm excited about Tarris. He was a very different character for me to work with.

The current WIP has a rather unlikely hero. He's not an Alpha Male in the typical fashion. In fact you probably couldn't find a more easy going guy than Evan. At least at the start of the story. This one will be a follow up to Measure of Healing that was a January Cerridwen Press release as Jacqueline Roth. It follows the young female Wolf at the end of that story. I've actually been working on this story off and on for several years. Evan is one of my favorite heroes, but this story has one of my favorite all time characters, Alexi. Alexi is big, loud and absolutely, positively certain that he is always right. He's just so blasted affiable it's hard to be angry at him.

Meeting Carly

2008-04-15T19:22:00.000-07:00

I mentioned a few months ago that my nephew was going to make me a great aunt. Well I was already a “great” aunt… okay, too obvious to be funny. Right.

Anyway, my younger sister’s son and his wife just recently had their first child together. He’s a stepfather to her three year old girl and a scant three months ago, they welcomed Carly Georgette. She’s positively adorable. She has a head full of dark hair, large pretty eyes and looks a good deal like her daddy.

My sister is going to spend a couple of months with them, helping with the baby. My house lies at the midway point between. So sister #1 has sister #2 bring her to my house where my nephew picked her up. And because my family can’t manage to do anything on a small scale, that means that both sisters, one brother-in-law, two nephews, one niece, one niece-in-law, one great niece and an odd boyfriend of my nieces all descended up on us.

It was worth it to get to see and hold the baby. My SO did the stereotypical “I might break her” and declined to hold the little one. This attitude will soon have to disappear as we have recently gotten the wonderful news that we are in fact expecting our own little one soon.

But I ask you, is there anything more enticing, more soothing and touching then the feel of a baby in your arms? The soft smell of baby powder and Johnson’s baby bath soap? Any thing sweeter than the sleeping face of a baby with the little lip that quivers as she dreams? Nope. And that’s why they are so dangerous. They can make you forget just how big of a responsibility they are and how difficult being a parent really is.

I still worry about what kind of parent I’ll be. I have very strong ideas about what is and isn’t acceptable in terms of how parents parent. Fortunately, my SO and I have yet to find a point upon which we disagree where this is concerned. I’m sure there will be many we just simply can’t foresee.

In other news, Seeing Me got a nice review from The Good, The Bad and The Unread.

“I wasn’t sure when I began reading this story if I was going to like it or not. “Him” is never given a name, which at first was I thought was a little strange. I have never read a book in which the hero didn’t have a name and I wasn’t sure how this would affect the story. But as I read, I found that I rather enjoyed how Ms. Edwards allowed me, the reader, to pick my own “hero” to imagine.

The chemistry between C.J. and “Him” is sensual and hot, but I also enjoyed watching the love story between the hero and heroine unfold. There are two very hot “fantasy” scenes where C.J. imagines both her and the hero in the scene. At first I wasn’t sure if they would impede the flow of the story, but they didn’t. In fact, they added to the story, especially since the heroine of the story is an author. Both characters were well written and the story flowed well and kept you interested. I didn’t want to put the book down.”

I’m glad the reviewer found it a positive that I hadn’t named the hero. As I was writing it, I was thinking about how a certain friend of mine and I disagree on the attractiveness of men. What is my type, isn’t hers. I wanted “Him” to be like the actor who fires the reader’s imagination. If that’s a Brad Pitt, an Orlando Bloom, a George Clooney, or whomever, that’s who He is like.

Excerpt from Seeing Me (Adult Content) :

It was all coming together. Everything she had worked for, all the years of secret dreams and fantasies, all the hidden aspirations and ambitions had come to fruition. Little Cara Jo was now C.J. Ellison, published author. The last time she had felt this rush of adrenaline had been the moment she held the signed publishing contract in her hands and stared at it in amazement.

Now, as she slid into her chair behind the long table, it was all very real. She was part of a writer’s panel. Her. Two years ago she had been one of the event’s attendees. A hopeful writer and lover of this genre of storytelling. She’d been one of hundreds of wouldbes and wannabes in a sea of painted and costumed faces at Atlanta, Georgia’s science fiction/fantasy convention that drew people from all over the country. If anyone knew how many old badges she had from this convention tucked in a drawer at home her rating on the Geek-ometer would break the gage. And now she was on a panel with some of the best known writers in the craft. As her nerves tied her stomach into knots, she wasn’t sure whether to bless her agent or curse him.

It was the big room, the grand ballroom of all places. It would be easy to swell with pride and ego except for one sad fact, or maybe it was a fortunate one. Anything she had to say would be superfluous. In fact anything any of the writers on this panel said would be virtually ignored. It was standing room only and they weren’t here to see them. They were here to see Him. One of the other writers had said it clearly as they were shepherded into place. When the conference staff had reminded them to speak into the microphones placed before them he had laughed bitterly and remarked, “It doesn’t really matter if they even turn these on. We could sit here, pick our noses and finger paint and no one would notice while the sex god himself was here.”

And He was here. There were few women in the world of any generation who didn’t thrill to the sound of his voice. Who didn’t entertain at least the briefest of fantasies about what was beneath that crisp white shirt, open at the neck, and the jeans into which it tucked. He’d taken the classic, shirt undone, bare chest peeking through look and made it his own. After he first appeared on screen in the ensemble, no other man ever looked as good in it. Even one of her lesbian friends had commented on him earlier today. “He’s pretty, all right. I don’t exactly want to sleep with him, but I do like to look at him. And with that voice he could talk to me all night.”

Cara sat in her place to the far right, the newest and least known of the group. He sat in the middle along with the author whose stories he had been translating into action for a few years now. And the show started. She was introduced and received a polite applause as did everyone else. But when the questions began, it was crystal clear the other writer had been right. These people were here to see Him.

She began doodling on the paper before her, drawing pictures and playing a word game she often played when bored. It had started between her and her giggling girlfriends in the back of a boring world history class in college. How many synonyms could she find for… In honor of the man of the hour, and the ambitions of most of the women present, she chose the word fuck. How many ways could she find to say fuck?

Being sure that the older woman sitting next to her couldn’t see the legal pad that had been provided for her by the setup committee, she started jotting. Make love…have his way…ravage…plunder… The longer the list got, the more crude it got.

Ride…fill…drive into…do…screw…bang…

Boredom numbing her brain, she was just about to hit an all time low when a particularly wheezy voice that was faintly familiar caught her attention. The thin, balding man with glasses that was standing at the microphone asking a question was a familiar face. He’d been a regular at this convention and was a frequent volunteer on the track dedicated to the legendary science fiction television and movie franchise that was so famous it need not be named. A bad Scottish accent crying out, “I can’na give ya more power Cap’n” was all that was needed for recognition. And that was one of the more obscure lines. He was also an arrogant, know-it-all jerk. What idiot gave that asshole a microphone? She brooded moodily. And since when is he into fantasy?

And damn, but the man just three places down the table from her was one to spark any woman’s fantasy. She looked down, half listening as she contemplated her list. She began to sketch absently in one corner.

“In the first installment of the series, the part that took place in space before your character became a stranded rogue mage, we were introduced to the hand held photo-plasma emitter. A friend of mine is an ex-cop and he says you handle your gun so masterfully that you must have gotten a lot of training in handling hand held weapons. Did you do any special training?”

This is your weapon, this is your gun. One is for shooting, the other for fun. The line popped up from somewhere in the depths of her pop culture awareness and she bit down hard on her lip to stop her giggle. Her eyes shifted to Him clandestinely when she thought she heard a faint chuckle in his voice as he answered.

“No,” He drew the word out slowly. Cara stared at the yellow paper and listened to the answer he gave. “I can only say that it’s important to be very familiar with any prop you’re going to be using, especially a gun. You have to practice with it, hold it, let it take over and guide the movements of your hand. If you aren’t comfortable with the feel of your own gun, then you won’t be able to handle anyone else’s well.”

A nervous twitter fluttered across the ballroom. She’d love to see him handle his gun. Staff…rod…lance…penis…length…manhood…

She grinned quietly to herself. Oh, fantasies could be fun, a lot more fun than this. His hands handling his …now that would be a sight. She looked down the table at the hands that rested on the table. The white of the tablecloth blurred in her vision until all she could see were those hands. Long fingered strong hands that…

Recent good reads:

Daffodil by Anny Cook: Part of the Flowers of Camealot series, Daffodil has everything. It’s laugh out loud funny. It is Hot with a capital H. And it pushes the envelope for this series just a bit farther. Daffodil has always been incontrol, even of her submission. But when Prince Gareth awards her to the butler Raulf as payment for something her sister Honeysuckle actually stole, she learns that she really enjoys letting him be in control. Daffodil is full of steamy sex, fairies, dragons, political intrigue and the entire contents of an adult toy store.

Sticky And Sweet by Ashley Ladd and Alicia Sparks: Two stories in one. Ladd’s American Beauty is very funny. Macho Casanova police officer must pose as a gay man complete with evening gown and feather boa to rent a room from a woman who just might be living next door to the local chop shop. But when his landlord and her boss decide to see who can seduce him first, he just might blow his cover and lose his job. Sparks’ Better than Ice Cream has a fascinating premise. Ryan doesn’t buy that Laura’s family’s ice cream provides female customers not just taste delights but orgasms as well. But he needs to cut a deal with her for his family’s sugar and Laura needs the deal to take her business to the next level. But the idea of ice cream as a substitute for sex doesn’t sit well with Ryan, he’d rather show Laura just what she’s been missing.

And the winner is...

2008-04-13T17:17:00.000-07:00

Today I'm awarding the prize in the Mating Stone contest. To win the 17" double strand freshwater pearl and amethyst bead necklace the contestants had to tell me:

If your Mr. Wonderful turned out to be a Were, what kind would he be and how would he tell you?

I got some great answers to this and it was so hard to choose. But my panel of experts (my SO and I) narrowed it down and picked a winner and two honorable mentions. The winner gets the necklace and the honorable mentions get a little gift as well.

So the winner is....Char!

My boyfriend and I were going on a picnic at the hot springs on his property. We decided to use the springs first and then eat. We undressed and got in and while we were soaking. I heard Clint’s stomach rumble. He said, “Mags ,I don't want to stay in here too long I'm starvin'.”

“You big baby. It won't kill you to wait a few minutes, we just got in here.” I heard a noise in the brush and looked up to see a rabbit shoot out and take off down the trail. Like a flash Clint was out of the spring, and as I watched, he transformed into a wolf. Next thing I know he 's chasing after the rabbit.

So I'm sittin' there, up to my neck in water, with a puzzled look on my face. How had I missed the signs?

I hear a noise and Clint steps out of the brush with a sheepish look on his face. “I'm sorry Mags. I didn't want you to find out this way. I wanted to break this to you gently, but I did tell you I was hungry. I suppose asking you to marry me is out of the question now.”

I looked at him and said, “Well there's something I've been meaning to tell you…”

Thanks Char. Great entry.

The two honorable mentions will recieve a small pewter bear charm that can be used as a zipper pull or a charm for a necklace or key ring. Our winners were:

Llewellyn
What type of Were is Mr. Wonderful and how does he break it to you?My Mr. Wonderful is a WerePanther(Leopard) from South India. I am an archaeologist on a dig in India, and I meet him by chance in a cafe just outside of my hotel. Little do I know he has been sent to watch over our dig by the council of elders, who are afraid we might discover their secret heritage in the underground temple we are about to explore. He actually doesn't tell me in words that he's a WerePanther, but instead begs me to trust him just moments before he shifts into his panther form to save us both from a nasty rival WereTiger who would expose the council and the entire secret of their nature to all humankind.

I'm definitely shocked after the fight. I mean I've never been so close to a mangled body, and the very idea of humans who can shapeshift into predators is terrifying, but he did it to save me, and my Gods, he has the most amazing amber eyes.

Beth
Mr. Wonderful is a werewolf. While he may make excessive use of his tongue and teeth, it isn't until a stray beam of moonlight hits him late one night that his secret is revealed. But who can resist sad blue eyes and a head stuck your lap. His fur is very soft as you scratch his ears and pet his head.

Thanks to all of you who entered. I did have one that I wanted to share with you, it's a bit adult in nature, but I was threatened with horrible consequences if I told you who it was, but it's too good not to share:

Okay, Mr. Wonderful is a huge were-snake. He breaks it to me during cunniligus when I'm way too interested in the talents of that fantastic tongue to care. And if you publish this with my name on it, bad things will happen to you. ;)

The Great Escape

2008-04-10T13:39:00.000-07:00

Seeing Me got two nice reviews.

One from Simply Romance Reviews said: "...the heroine who at times exhibits a remarkably strong case of “foot-in-mouth” disease that is charming. The erotic scene is poignant for its sweetness. The hero for all his hype and reputation is endearing for his modest, almost shy personality in private. Seeing Me is an enjoyable read for those that aren’t looking for kink, but instead a satisfying romance."

And Romance Reviews TodayErotica rated it multiple O’s (which has to be good) and said it was: "An enticing short story, ..." Seeing Me is a Quickie from Ellora’s Cave.

The Great Escape.

No, I’m not necessarily talking about my escape from headgear bondage…let me rephrase that, from my medical bondage…that doesn’t work either…ah hell, I don’t mean getting this thing off my head. Though I’m counting the hours to freedom and dreading the drive back home to wash the gunk out of my head. I have my trusty hoodie ready to go. I tried a scarf, but I look like I’m smuggling something and I really don’t want to meet the Cobb County drug dogs.

By the great escape I’m referring to a tactical error I may have made yesterday. Okay, I’m not the world’s best housekeeper. I have four dogs, there is dog hair on my floor. I have paw prints on my carpet where the red clay has stained it. I don’t dust nearly as often as I should. So I got a little behind on the bird cage this week.

Yesterday I took the cage outside to clean it really well. The birds were still in it, and I cleaned it while they sunned themselves. The only problem is I think they liked their taste of freedom a bit too much. Now they are plotting escape.

No I didn’t bump my head and I haven’t received a nasty shock from my battery pack. I know the two criminals are plotting their escape. Don’t be fooled by their innocent look. Every time they think I’m not looking they start testing the cage for signs of weakness. Even now, when they think I’m busy making the clacking noises, I can see them. Pip, the blue one, is climbing the wall of the cage and pecking at the wires with it’s beak. Green-bird, yes that’s it’s name, is standing on the food dish pecking at the little door that slides up to take the dishes in and out. Earlier I saw them hanging to either side of the door pecking at it.

I’m telling you they tasted freedom and now they want out. Next thing I know they’ll be dragging their little metal bell across the bars screaming, “Let me out you stinking screw.” (Yes, my mother watched Cell Block H when I was growing up.) In fact right now Pip has started wrestling with the bell. I tell you one of them is a little birdie MacGyver who is figuring out how to blow the door off the cage with bird seed, a small metal bell and a mirror.

You know, that was two television references in the space of a single paragraph. Odd if you consider the fact that I haven’t really watched television in almost five years if you don’t count occasionally watching American Idol. I am hooked this season. I love little folksy Brooke with her whole Carol King-ish persona and David Cook. I like that he causes controversy and think he’s actually very talented. Chris Cornell can shut up. The dude from Crowded House was doing an acoustic version of Billy Jean way, way, way back.

But the hometown dude Michael Johns, the Australian who claims to be from Buckhead (not the town, mind you-this is a neighborhood in Atlanta) has got to go. He’s the guy who ends up singing on the Love Boat because he can’t get any other gigs. He annoys the crap out of me and if he tries to do one more Queen song Freddie Mercury is going to rise up out of his grave and smite the dude.

Anyway. If I think about it, it’s odd that I don’t watch television any more. My family could not function without a television. It was the center point of our family. Tonight we watched this, tomorrow night it was that. And heaven help us on the nights the Dukes of Hazzard was on because you had to tiptoe around so my stepdad could hear it.

Even now the tv runs night and day as long as someone is awake. It is a constant drone in the back ground. Recently on a visit it was driving me crazy. Everyone was in the dinning area playing cards so I turned it off. About ten minutes later someone looks up and says, "What's that noise." I swear it was straight out of a sitcom. They actually made me turn it back on even though no one was watching it. My mom said the quiet was creepy. I know I'm so adopted.

My stepdad and I bonded over television. We were both Trekkers, the only thing we had in common back then. We could sit down in peace and watch reruns of the original series and The Next Generation. This was our truce, our neutral territory in the war. A war that lasted until we both realized that in fact we were pawns in a much more devious game. Neither of us were generals, we were hostages in my mother’s Machiavellian quest for supremacy. Divide and conquer.

It worked until we saw through her plan. Together we now make her pay for her treachery. It’s amazing how much damage a second universal remote can do. Not to mention technology she can’t figure out. “You want to watch what, Mom?” I say innocently. “Well I know the tv guide says it’s on, but look for yourself, this is the right channel it’s not here.” *evil laughing ensues*

Don’t feel sorry for her! Do you have any idea how many times she’s made us watch the Barbara Streisand version of A Star Is Born? Do you know how many Elvis movies she’s tortured us with? I get nauseous just thinking about Charro.

Friday is the deadline for the contest. I’m looking forward to going through the entries. The contest is to celebrate the release of Mating Stone by Ellora’s Cave. The hero of Mating Stone, Mark Ursine is a Were-Bear as is his twin brother Luke the hero of the upcoming July release, Lovers’ Stone. The Ursines present their lady loves with stones rather than engagement rings. For Mark and Sarah it’s an amethyst. So to win the 17” freshwater pearl and amethyst necklace here’s what you need to do. Write a brief answer to the following question and send it to ElyssaWrites@aol.com with “Mating Stone Contest” in the subject line. I’ll pick the best response as the winner, and two honorable mentions to receive smaller prizes. The winning entries will appear in my blog on April 13th.

In Mating Stone, Mark falls in love with Sarah. Sarah, a young human woman who has no idea that Were’s even exist beyond novels and movies. Strictly fictional. As a human woman, how do you react when Mr. Yummy tells you he’s the one with claws and may just leave fur on the sheets? So tell me: What type of Were is Mr. Wonderful and how does he break it to you?

Radio Free Mars

2008-04-09T09:57:00.001-07:00

Oops! I thought I updated here yesterday but it seems I didn't.

Friday is the deadline for the contest. I’m looking forward to going through the entries. The contest is to celebrate the release of Mating Stone by Ellora’s Cave.

The hero of Mating Stone, Mark Ursine is a Were-Bear as is his twin brother Luke the hero of the upcoming July release, Lovers’ Stone. The Ursines present their lady loves with stones rather than engagement rings. For Mark and Sarah it’s an amethyst. So to win the 17” freshwater pearl and amethyst necklace here’s what you need to do. Write a brief answer to the following question and send it to ElyssaWrites@aol.com with “Mating Stone Contest” in the subject line. I’ll pick the best response as the winner, and two honorable mentions to receive smaller prizes. The winning entries will appear in my blog on April 13th.

In Mating Stone, Mark falls in love with Sarah. Sarah, a young human woman who has no idea that Were’s even exist beyond novels and movies. Strictly fictional. As a human woman, how do you react when Mr. Yummy tells you he’s the one with claws and may just leave fur on the sheets? So tell me: What type of Were is Mr. Wonderful and how does he break it to you?

I’m still wired up. I'm in the midst of an ambulatory EEG that has me looking like the Borg Queen with wires coming out of my head and a small battery pack on one side. I’m on day two and a half and the crap news is I have one more day and night to go. Let me tell you, you haven’t slept until you’ve tried to sleep with about five pounds of wires, electrodes, gauze and tape on your head without messing it up. And that doesn’t even begin to cover the joys of having a chin strap to the headgear so it doesn’t pull off at night and having to watch out for the box everything is attached to.

The cord is only about 2, 2 ½ feet long so it doesn’t give you much stretch. And the damned adhesive is starting to itch which isn’t helped by the fact that I haven’t been able to wash my hair since Monday morning. Did manage a bath last night but it was worthy of America’s Funniest Home Videos to watch me try to bath while the SO stands over me holding the circuitry out of the way. I’d say I owed my darling big time, but the chuckles at my bizarre appearance should about cover it.

I’m also pretty much stuck in the house and nature had been a real bitch because it’s been absolutely beautiful. I could be getting so much gardening done. *sigh* Usually on my spring break I go into town. Into Atlanta I mean. I’m technically OTP (Outside the Perimeter) which to someone from the ATL translates to hick or leper, and to the rest of the world it means I live outside the I285 loop around the city. We have a nice little neighborhood that unfortunately is rather harshly infested with HOA disease. (Home Owners Association) Now I have no gripe with most HOAs. They keep up common areas, make sure no one turns their yard into a flea market or graveyard for old automobiles and represent the residents on zoning issues and the like.

But I do have a gripe with our particular HOA. We no longer belong because we didn’t see eye to eye with several of the members and didn’t like the way certain neighbors went about settling differences of opinion. Threatening to cite my house because I don’t vote your way or give you my proxy only makes me pissed off and nasty. Not all of us are retired and have nothing to do all day but work on our homes. Not all of us have the money for a new coat of paint every couple of years. And some of us are such monumental klutzes that we have spent most of the last year unable to do most yard work. (All in one year: broken foot x2 and a dislocated knee- I’m talented folks. If there’s a chance I can injure myself I will.)

Anyway, It’s another lovely day in the neighborhood. The pollen is coating everything, the sun is shining, my cocker spaniel is whimpering out the back door because she’s just sure if mom would let her out she could catch that train going by and my birds are about to find out what it’s like to be born free if they don’t stop imitating the blasted house alarm. No, I wouldn’t really do that. Do not send me hate mail and animal rights information. I know Pip and Green-bird could not possibly survive on their own. Besides I live with flippin’ Marlin Perkins who names snails, insists they play and gets very upset with me when they die.

I had a point… Oh, yeah. Now I remember. The only thing I can say about being stuck like this is that it’s given me time to write and time to read. We won’t talk about the book I’m currently trying to wade through. It is for my book group and it frankly sucks. But I have gotten to read a good one recently. Before I picked up “My Writer is Pretentious and Boring so So am I,” I read a great Cerridwen Press book.

Blame it on the Ghost by Delia Carnell was one I picked up on impulse and I’m very glad I did. The story was well written and nicely paced. Romance writer Amberly Ross finds herself the victim of a mix up when she and horror writer Dylan Hart are both asked to house sit for a mutual friend. The friend can’t be reached to clear it up, so the only choice is to try to cohabitate without killing each other. Sparks fly in more ways than one and soon the reader is drawn into the story that pushes the two reluctant writers together with a little paranormal help. Is the beach house really haunted? And if so, is the ghost responsible for playing matchmaker?

I really enjoyed the dialogue between the two characters. When writing a book like this, it is easy to go overboard on the animosity and create a battle of wits that eventually begins to annoy the hell out of the reader. The heroine turns bitchy and hard and the hero turns into an ass. Carnell avoids this and rips open her characters to show us the gooey, hurting centers of those hard shells. I highly recommend this one.

Okay, back to writing. I have a werewolf having a rather nasty argument with his mate and I need to get back to them before Evan does something stupid. This is the follow up to Measure of Healing and he has to be the most out of control character I’ve ever dealt with. Evan has been jerking me around for a while now, suddenly insisting that I write this, or that I forgot that scene where he… Just when I’ve got the pacing down and know what happens next he throws me a curve. Wolves! Mages! All are pains in the…

God's Name in Vane

2008-04-05T20:57:00.000-07:00

When I signed on to my AOL account today, the big news was the removal of 52 young girls from a fundamentalist Christian camp in Texas. According to the story girls from the ages of 6 months to 17 years were taken into temporary custody while the state investigated allegations of physical abuse made by one of the girls. In the end 18 girls were put into State custody.

There are several elements of this story I found disturbing. First of all, the allegations include that at least two sixteen year-olds were married to older relatives and that this was facilitated by the head of their church. In fact, the article I read indicated that one of the 16 year-olds had been married off to a 50 year old man. There were indications of polygamy. Now I’m a big supporter of the First Amendment. I believe in the separation of church and state. I don’t think the government has a right to tell me how to pray or what to believe. I’m not all that upset by polygamy as long as the people are consenting adults and are not being coerced. That’s their business. I also don’t think the government has any business in someone’s bedroom or telling people how to raise their children. Unless people are getting hurt and if the allegations in this case are true, it seems that that is the case.

I know I’m gonna take flack for this. I know I’m going to make someone angry. I know that in times past it wasn’t uncommon for there to be arranged marriages. I know it wasn’t uncommon for a 16 year-old to be married and even married to an older man. I know someone will tell me about their grandmother who was married at 14 to a man 4 times her age and how it was a loving and happy marriage.

But if the allegations are true this is just wrong. There is a big difference between a 16 year-old girl marrying her 18 year old boyfriend because they were too stupid, arrogant or afraid to use birth control. In my eyes, if that’s why they’re getting married it’s not exactly a good idea either.

Another question that this raised was “What about the boys?” Girls were removed, but what about the boys involved in this group? Was it that they had no evidence or suspicion of physical abuse to the boys? If so, and they truly believe the girls were in danger, then the State people are stupid. Systemic abuse, which is what seems to be being alleged here, is not discriminatory. If the girls are being physically harmed, so are the boys.

This brings up a subject no one in our society wants to talk about, one we are so loath to consider that we rationalize it away. Males can be victims of sexual abuse. While we all intellectually know this to be true, it is a strong message in our society that there is a distinct difference between sexual abuse perpetrated against a girl and that which targets a boy. We as a society have been fighting back against the stigma that a woman or girl “asked for” the abuse or rape. We see them as victims.

We don’t often afford men and boys the same consideration. If a man reports a rape, the associated stigma is much stronger. So strong that the majority of male victims never report sexual assaults for fear of being ridiculed, thought to be weak or even worse in some people’s eyes, being labeled homosexual. If a girl of 15 or 16 is seduced by an older man, we see that as a crime. If a boy of 15 or 16 is seduced by an older woman, people don’t react the same way. The reaction is often one of “lucky boy.” Maybe this is why stories of female teachers engaging in inappropriate relations with their students get national news coverage, while male teachers are often limited to the local paper. Society finds it titillating and shocking to see a woman as an abuser.

The final issue this story raised for me was one of sympathy. Sympathy for the fundamentalist Christians who so often are painted with the same brush as those who engage in behavior that is scandalous, immoral or illegal. Stories like this can perpetuate the image of Christian groups as “crazy” or hypocritical. And it is often made worse by the comments of people who respond to blogs and stories online. When people see a story like this one, one in which no one has been convicted of a crime. One in which we are talking about a small fringe element, it reinforces the negative stereotype of Christians as intolerant and clandestinely sick or depraved. When someone posts a comment on a blog blasting one or another minority group or individual and using God as a justification, it can harden the hearts of the world against Christians as a whole.

None of us can control the extremists or crazies of groups to which we belong. As a Christian I’m appalled and horrified that anyone would use God and the loving message of Jesus to justify harming anyone. So as a Christian I have a message for those extremists. Stop using Jesus as an excuse to be a narrow-minded, bigoted, depraved asshole. And yes, I just cussed. Somehow, I think God will understand.

Reminder, the contest is still going and I’m getting some very creative answers. Don’t be shy, it only takes a moment to enter. You can enter up 'til April 11th to win the 17" double strand of freshwater pearls and amethyst beads. The contest is to celebrate the wonderful response of readers and reviewers to Mating Stone. In Mating Stone, Mark falls in love with Sarah. Sarah, a young human woman who has no idea that Were’s even exist beyond novels and movies. Strictly fictional. As a human woman, how do you react when your Mr. Yummy tells you he’s the one with claws and may just leave fur on the sheets? So tell me: What type of Were is Mr. Wonderful and how does he break it to you? Email your answer to ElyssaWrites@aol.com

Remembering Safety Dog

2008-04-04T18:50:00.000-07:00

Today starts with very sad news. I received word from my ex that our dog Henry passed away early this morning. Henry was a 14 year old pug that was absolutely devoted to my ex and so custody was never an issue for us. I got generous visitation for the last 5 years, but it certainly wasn’t enough. Henry is the last of the first generation of my four legged children to leave us. They were the companions of my early adulthood and what seems like a whole lifetime past.

When we brought home our little pug puppy, he rode tucked into my ex’s jacket. I held him and started talking to him while waiting for my ex to come out of the store where we had stopped to pick up puppy food. We had an adult pug at home named Tootsie, but had read that pugs, in particular, get very lonely if they don’t have company. As I talked to the pup, going over a list of possible names to discuss I hit upon a family joke. When the eldest of my brothers was preparing to enter the world, my mother wanted to name him after his father. My stepfather refused. So they couldn’t settle on a name for him. My stepfather finally took to saying that he was just going to name the baby Henry Kissinger and be done with it. (This was the late 70’s.) My mother had fits, but still they couldn’t decide.

My brother was born caesarian section and my mother was under general anesthetic. As it would happen, my stepfather was also an inpatient at the time undergoing a rather serious back surgery. He’d fallen off a roof. My poor grandfather was running up and down the elevators between the maternity ward and the surgical ward. When my mother came out of anesthetic, my grandfather and stepfather played a cruel joke. My grandfather told her that because she was out of it, the nurses asked my stepfather what to name the baby and that her first son was now officially Henry Kissinger Neubig. He of course had not. He’d relented at the last and my brother became a number II.

Naming things Henry became a joke in my family. So as I’m holding the pup and thinking about it, I finally blurted out, “Well I guess we could just call you Henry.” I was stunned when the little pup lifted his head and looked me straight in the eye. He gazed at me for a moment and then lowered his head again and rooted for a comfortable spot to snooze. I giggled a bit and asked, “Is your name Henry? Is that what you’re trying to tell me?” Again he lifted his little head and met my eye. This was not a response to my voice. I’d been talking out loud to him for a while at that point. I always talk to my pets. When my ex returned to the car and I explained what had happened it was agreed. His name was Henry.

Henry was the roundest puppy you ever saw. His little fat belly nearly touched the ground. He soon earned the AKC registration name of “Fat boy Henry.”

His more enduring and endearing trait would lead to his long standing nickname, one that even earned him his own song. Safety Dog.

Henry was rather nervous by nature and often seemed to look upon any unusual event or happening with an eye to it’s potential danger. He seemed to sense that his master, my ex, was essentially a clutz. When the lawnmower came out, he hid. When a power tool was plugged in, he’d come running to me, his alpha dog, with a worried expression creasing his little forehead and a face that seemed to say, “Do you know what the beta dog is doing now?” In all fairness to Henry, his master had managed to nearly take off a foot with the lawnmower on one occasion and frequently had cuts and scratches from other simple activities. His concern was warranted.

Safety dog’s most memorable lessons in life involved water. Water was not Henry’s friend. We took him fishing one day. He was on his leash and was snuffling his way hurriedly down the dock. Nose to wood he hustled along, sniffing, sniffing, sniffing…plop! He sniffed himself right over the edge. I grabbed the lease and his master dropped to the dock and lifted him out. When he was eye level to his beta dog, the look on his face had both his human’s laughing so hard his master couldn’t even lift him out of the water.

On another occasion his extra bulk broke the ice on a ditch causing Tootsie and him to drop into the icy water. The beta dog went in after them thinking it was only a shallow ditch. Wrong. The ditch was a good 6 feet deep and filled with freezing water. There was no laughing that day.

So with tears and sadness I say goodbye to Henry. Henry, who never met food he didn’t like. Henry, who snored loudly on the pillow next to his master’s head every night. Henry, who would give a grudging sigh and patiently put up with the antics of his large and goofy Rottweiler brother, Koeby. Goodbye Safety Dog. Toostie will be waiting to boss you about. Koeby will be waiting to welcome you and introduce you to all his squirrel friends. And Wallie. Sweet Baby Wallie will be waiting to give you a wag, a big lick on the face and to commiserate with you the chore of spending an eternity with Koeby.

Now, in honor of Safety Dog, his song to the tune of Born to be Wild. Sing along.

Get your motor running
Always wear your seatbelt
Don’t forget your helmet
It’s the law in Illinois

Born to be mild.

Always obey the leash law
Never play in the street
Don’t chase the motorcycles
Or they’re gonna squish your head

Born to be mild

Now, a reminder about the contest.

You can enter up 'til April 11th to win the 17" double strand of freshwater pearls and amethyst beads. The contest is to celebrate the wonderful response of readers and reviewers to Mating Stone. In Mating Stone, Mark falls in love with Sarah. Sarah, a young human woman who has no idea that Were’s even exist beyond novels and movies. Strictly fictional. As a human woman, how do you react when your Mr. Yummy tells you he’s the one with claws and may just leave fur on the sheets? So tell me: What type of Were is Mr. Wonderful and how does he break it to you?

Email you answer to ElyssaWrites@aol.com

Why did I go to college?

2008-04-02T17:06:00.000-07:00

First off the good stuff:

Mating Stone got 4 angels from Fallen Angel Reviews. Ashley reviewed it and seemed to really like the guys in the story. "...the men in this book are to die for. Mark is sexy and charming. It is easy to see why Sarah fell in love with him so fast. You can relate to Sarah after Mark makes a huge mistake, and you can feel for him when he tries to fix it. There is also his brother, Luke, who has just enough bad boy in him to make you want to claim him as your own. Then there is Tarris, Mark’s close friend, another sexy and mysterious man. These two stuck out and I hoping they get their own stories soon. Elyssa Edwards has done a great job with Mating Stone. She has written a unique shapeshifter story that any paranormal fan will enjoy." Thank you Ashley!

The Contest! The April 11th deadline is coming up!

ElyssaWrites@aol.com with “Mating Stone Contest” in the subject line. I’ll pick the best response as the winner, and two honorable mentions to receive smaller prizes. The winning entries will appear in my blog on April 13th.

In Mating Stone, Mark falls in love with Sarah. Sarah, a young human woman who has no idea that Were’s even exist beyond novels and movies. Strictly fictional. As a human woman, how do you react when Mr. Yummy tells you he’s the one with claws and may just leave fur on the sheets? So tell me: What type of Were is Mr. Wonderful and how does he break it to you?

Now to the title of this rant.

Why did I go to college? I mean, I spent four years of under graduate studies and a year of graduate school and for what? To be someone's scapegoat? To continue to have to scrape and stretch to make ends meet? To be treated with total disrespect and disdain?

Yes, that's right it was parent-teacher conference time again. Another day of listening to someone tell me that I don't care about their child because I didn't give him an extra week to complete an assignment. Another day of listening to someone tell me I am picking on their child because I expect him or her to follow the same rules that apply to everyone else. Another day of listening to someone tell me and my administration how I have no concern for parent involvement because I won't stay two hours after school for a conference because that's when they get off work.

Now I love teaching. I do. I love the kids and I love working with them. What I hate and abominate is babysitting, hand holding and nose-wiping. That’s why I teach middle school and not kindergarten.

So let’s get this straight. I apologize to all the great parents out there. You know who you are. You’re the one who volunteers for fundraisers and who helps pass out maps at orientation. You’re the one who returns my calls or actually has a phone number at which I can reach you if I need to touch base about your child. You’re the one who knows that budgets are tight and so you donate paper towels and tissues. You’re the one who shows up for conferences even when your child isn’t failing and we haven’t had to send the social worker to your house to force you.

Sorry to bore you with my ranting, but it’s absolutely ridiculous and some days it’s just too much to let roll off your back.

Maybe I should have been a plumber. We had to call one today because our bathtub wouldn’t turn off. Of course the estimate came in at almost a grand. Lovely day to ya'll, too!

The End

2008-03-26T18:35:00.000-07:00

No, it's not the end of my blog, but I finally was able to close out my latest Work in Progress. I've been working on getting the last story in my Stones series finished for a while now. The problem was it just grew and grew and grew. It out grew novella length by some publisher's standards and now sits as a full novel. I'm pleased with how it's turned out. It was rather harder to do and the longer length I think comes from the need to build the backstory for the character. When you're writing a Were story you can sometimes rely a bit on the pop culture awareness of the lore. There isn't such a wide base of knowledge for the incubus and so I had to do a bit more world building.

Actually it was more of world revealing. I already knew exactly what role the incubus and some of the other species played in my world. But I found I had to explain more of it than I'd anticipated.

It's time to enter the world of self and peer edits. Then it will be time to see if Soul Stone (the working title) and my little incubus Tarris can find a publishing home. But in the mean time I plan to take a few minutes to celebrate before I start editing.

Contest:

The contest I'm sponsoring to mark the release of Mating Stone (currently available from Ellora's Cave and the first in the series I mentioned above) and Seeing Me (releasing March 28th also from Ellora's Cave) is still open.

To win the 17" freshwater pearl and amethyst bead necklace, write a brief answer to the following question and send it to ElyssaWrites@aol.com with “Mating Stone Contest” in the subject line. I’ll pick the best response as the winner, and two honorable mentions to receive smaller prizes. The winning entries will appear in my blog on April 13th.

In Mating Stone, Mark falls in love with Sarah. Sarah, a young human woman who has no idea that Were’s even exist beyond novels and movies. Strictly fictional. As a human woman, how do you react when Mr. Yummy tells you he’s the one with claws and may just leave fur on the sheets? So tell me: What type of Were is Mr. Wonderful and how does he break it to you?

Seeing Me Releases Friday!

My one and only Quickie from Ellora's Cave releases on Friday. Seeing Me is the story of first time author CJ Ellison who finds herself on a panel at a large scifi/fantasy convention. Not only is she on the panel with some big time authors, but also with one of the most yummy actors in the business today. When she opens her big mouth, as usual, and speaks before she things, as usual, she gets His attention in a big way. Now not only are her professional aspirations coming true, so are some of her fantasies.

Excerpt:

“And then you come…”Cara jerked her head up at the sound of the words. He gave a short harsh cough, took a sip of water and continued. “Sorry and then you come to the pivotal moment in the story and if you aren’t focused you can ruin what needs to be the payoff for the viewer.” He cleared his throat again, “That’s why it’s important to me to be able to commit myself to one project at a time. It makes having a personal life of any kind hard but there are often sacrifices you have to make.”

Looking down she realized she’d actually sketched the body of the nude male, no face but his hands were definitely…

She felt the heat wash over her cheeks and lowered her head, letting her hair fall across her face. She flipped the page over on the table and continued her list. She should choose a safer topic but right now she doubted her mind could focus on anything else.

The questions continued from the audience and she thought she noticed Him grow a bit uncomfortable. True, ninety-nine percent of the questions were for him but that was something she was actually grateful for. God help her if someone asked her a question right now.

She was up to twenty on her new list, having just added the delightfully archaic “deflowering,” when she heard the voice of the angry writer from earlier denounce the idea of film representation of his books as a bastardization of the art, as selling out for the money. “No screenwriter, no director, no actor can do justice to a well-written story or character without cheapening it, without robbing it of some essential element that a given reader holds dear,” he’d practically sneered. “So there’s no chance I’d ever sell one of my stories to the commercial Hollywood machine.”

“Are you crazy?” The words were out of her mouth before she realized she had spoken them. “You’d sell your left testicle if someone wanted to make a movie from one of your books with that kind of budget.” She waved her hand at the actor and author who were being criticized.

There was an undercurrent of laughter and she suddenly realized everyone in the room was looking at her. He was looking at her and wearing that wickedly seductive smile that had put him in the pages of many a magazine. Her face flushed hotly and she looked down at her hands. I can’t believe I said that, she moaned silently.

The moderator quickly swung the conversation back on track. A quick glance down the table saw that indeed, the offended writer was glaring at her in disgust. Great, just great, she thought. He’s got twenty times my sales, we share the same agent and I go and piss him off. Well, it was nice while it lasted. My agent is going to kill me.

Better Late Than Never

2008-03-21T20:51:00.000-07:00

I was recently bemoaning the fact that I hadn't thought to have a contest related to my first Ellora's release Mating Stone. Well, better late than never. So to mark the release of Mating Stone a bit late and the release of my upcoming Quickie, Seeing Me, I've decided to hold a contest anyway. Seeing Me is the story of two people who are finally able to see past the hype to who the other really is.

The Contest:

2008-03-15T19:31:00.000-07:00

I've been watching an rather excellent miniseries. It probably isn't new to most of you, but to poor little me with out cable or satellite there is a great deal of good stuff out there that I only get a chance to see when it goes to DVD. So this past week I've beenenjoying a few minutes here and there watching a BBC mniseries called The State Within. Now this movie is appealing to me on two levels. I love the intrigue, the political twists and turns. I like to be kept guessing who is the good guy, who is the bad guy. The acting is quite excellent.

But even better is the fact that it is several hours of Jason Isaacs. The man is so lovely to look at. I don't care if he's playing a good guy or a bad guy, he's truly fine. Pleasantly enough, in the case of this series he is playing a good guy. How nice to get to cheer for him and not feel guilty.

Another great review for Mating Stone. Alternative Read.com did a flattering write up on this paranormal novella. “She gave it enough twists to make you think, but to me the crowning touch was Tarris. He can come feed from me if it's anything like the scene between him, Mark and Sarah...YUM!”

As a matter of fact, I’m currently running up to the wire trying to get Tarris’ story done. As way of motivation for myself, I thought I’d give you a little peek at what the reviewer enjoyed.

This excerpt contains some adult content. Read at your own risk.

At first she thought she’d awoken. But there was something about the feeling and the scene that made her certain she was dreaming. Everything up close was clear but the edges of her vision were glassy, blurry. And there was the fact that she was lying there wearing only the white silk slip she’d put on under her dress. Only the slip and she definitely had not gotten undressed before going to sleep.

She felt the mattress give and looked to her left. Mark was stretching out on the bed beside her. The feel of his body told her he wore only his pants, his arm sliding under her neck to cradle her to his chest. His head lowered and he kissed her tenderly. His mouth was soft, almost playful in its exploration of hers. When he lifted his head, his eyes were again filled with that dark hunger that never failed to cause a physical response. She felt the aching begin between her thighs. Her body was readying itself for him, desperate to feel his touch. She explored his mouth with her tongue and he responded by palming her breast and beginning to squeeze gently. His hand ran down her body, smoothing over the silk until he reached the edge where it lay across her mid-thigh. He lifted his head slightly and brushed his lips across her cheek to her neck. As she turned her head to allow him access she realized they were not alone.

She should have been shocked. She should have been horrified. But she wasn’t. There was an almost disturbing sense of calmness as she looked into Tarris’ blue eyes. His eyes were soft, like falling into a warm soothing pool. He stood at the edge of the bed watching them, a soft smile just curling up the edges of his lips. There was a seductive, needful look in his eyes but his face didn’t seem hungry or in the remotest way predatory. Mark’s kiss, his tongue stroking her neck, made her gasp and she couldn’t look away from the voyeur.

Mark’s hand caressed her shoulder. “It only a dream, Sarah. Only a dream.”

“A dream,” she murmured, lost in the feel of Mark’s touch and the beautiful blue gaze of the man who stood beside the bed watching them.

“Look,” Mark pointed toward the chairs. She lifted her head. She saw Mark sitting there, his head tipped back and his eyes closed. She couldn’t see Tarris but then she hadn’t seen him sitting in the chair when she entered the room. “It’s only a dream Sarah. Tarris wants to join us. He wants to share this with us. But it is your choice.”

She hesitated. A rather vociferous part of her was yelling, Hell yes! But another part of her dreaming mind—and damn this had to be a dream—was still rational. She looked into his dark eyes searchingly. What would he feel if she said yes? Would he hate her for it? Would she hate her for it?

“Sarah,” he smiled gently. “If you want to feel his touch, if you want to share our passion with Tarris, it is all right. It’s his way. He’s not like us, Sarah. Tarris is an incubus. He needs this, the energy our bodies radiate as we touch and are touched, to survive. This is part of who we are, my family. We take care of him and he gives back to us more than you could understand until you feel it. Think about it Sarah. Would you deny your sister food if she were starving?” The dark eyes lifted for a moment and met his friend’s. “I want to share this with him. To give him what he needs. It would not be the first time between he and I but this is not a world you are used to. So the choice is yours.”

An incubus? Her gorgeous, sexy boyfriend wanted her to help him feed Tarris, the incubus? Damn but her mind had pulled out all the stops to justify this erotic little dream. An incubus was the very symbol of forbidden and decadent sexuality. Dark spirit beings, they came in dreams to indulge the darkest and most hidden of fantasies within a woman. And they fed off her reactions, they fed from her passion. Her release, her pleasure was the very food of life to them. Some lore painted them devils tempting women—or it seemed in this case men too—into the sin of lustfulness.

Sarah swallowed hard. God, she’d never done anything like this before, even in a dream. But there was no denying she wanted it as well and if Mark was okay with it… It was only a dream after all. She turned to look at the beautiful face hovering over her. Slowly she reached out her hand to him. His smile brightened and he took it. Within seconds, the warm heat of his body was pressed against her right side and he had sandwiched her between them. A warm glow seemed to encompass their bodies and she watched Mark tip back his head and sigh. She felt it too, this sense of being wrapped inside sexuality, in the arms of need and desire.

Sarah suddenly felt out of her depth. She had no idea what was supposed to happen now. As if he read her mind, Mark was speaking tenderly. “Relax. All you have to do is relax. Let us please you. We are here for your pleasure, my darling.”

A shudder ran through her when, as if choreographed, the two men placed their fingers gently against her cheeks. They moved them down over her jaw, down her neck and across her collarbone. The two hands slipped down over the curves of her breasts, down her ribs and came to rest on either pelvic bone.

Mark unfastened the halter of the slip. Working in perfect harmony, their hands moved up and pulled down either side of the silk covering. Pausing, the men’s next actions stunned and delighted her.

Well I can’t give everything away.

Rants and reviews

2008-03-14T23:30:00.000-07:00

First off, I received two great reviews today.

Measure of Healing received 5 nymphs from Literary Nymphs Reviews Only. I was thrilled with the review and thankful that the reviewer ejoyed it. "Secrets, pain and desire blend together and opposites are not so different after all. The Were-child is the glue that brings the story together and softness to these strong characters in Measure of Healing. I loved watching Alej and Brie find everything that has been missing in their lives and finally accept what they were. I was emotionally drawn to them and enjoyed the way their shells are chipped away little by little. Roth did an excellent job and I look forward to more of her stories."

Great news since several of my WIPs and sketched outlines involve this world. Almost finished is the story of the young Wolf who appears at the end of Measure.

Mating Stone was also reviewed at Literary Nymph Reviews Only and received 4 nymphs. This is my first Ellora's Cave release as Elyssa Edwards and I was nervous about its reception. But it's been great. "Mating Stone - Amethyst is a wonderful story with humor and sensual love play. Elyssa Edwards displays a very creative talent in this surprise saga. Mark is every woman’s dream man, caring, gorgeous and considerate of Sarah, who thinks about herself as a plain, shy woman. This is a remarkable read that I enjoyed."

Naturally I screwed up when leaving a comment on this and did it signed in as Jacqueline and not as Elyssa. Duh!

More good news since this is the same world as Measure and the sequel to this, Lovers' Stone, is due out in July.

Other great authors getting terrific reviews that popped up on my radar today include:

Bronwyn Green-Mystic Circle. Bronwyn kicked butt with her 5 nymph rating. The reviewer couldn't stop gushing. Check it out at : http://literarynymphsreviewsonly.blogspot.com/2008/03/torrid-tarot-mystic-circle.html

Mona Risk- To Love a Hero. Lots of very nice praise for Mona at: http://literarynymphsreviewsonly.blogspot.com/2008/03/to-love-hero.html

Contests

Some of my more savvy colleagues manage to have killer contests and to do so regularly. I admit I’m not quite so adept. Mostly because I’m new to this and also because I’ve always doubted my taste. What if what I think is cool, no one else does. That happens to me a lot. You know that look you get when you go…”Oooh, isn’t that neat?” and the other person doesn’t think so? I get that frequently. Or maybe I’m just hanging out with the wrong people.

I also admit to being a person who often finds myself thinking, “Damn! That was a good idea. I wish I’d had that.” Or the one who gets the idea after the fact. I have a current release that would have been great to do a contest related to the amethyst since it was an “Amethyst” release from Ellora’s. Did I think if this? No, not until March. A bit late on the uptake, I am. Some days I feel like Winnie the Pooh. A bear of little brain. Lot’s of fluff and stuff between my ears. Maybe if I sat down and had a good think, think, think… I’d do better. So what idea did you miss the boat on?

The Most List, Part I

2008-03-09T21:55:00.000-07:00

I’ve read a great many books lately in a number of genres. Some I liked, some I didn’t. Some that were like brain candy, never challenging me and making me feel warm and fuzzy. Some were boundary pushing, making me look at what I was comfortable with and what I thought I knew about myself and the world. So for lack of anything more interesting to do today, I offer you a list of Mosts.

Most Fascinating World Development: Mystic Valley Series

Easy choice here, really. It’s no surprise to anyone that I’ve become a big fan of this writer over the last year. And I’m not easy to please, particularly where fantasy is concerned. Just ask my book group. They get tired of me saying, “Didn’t like it.” But Anny Cook’s Mystic Valley Series is one of the most intricate and well planned out cases of world building I’ve seen in a long time. Cook has created a world were so much is familiar while so much is alien. Yet what could have been overwhelming and confusing for readers is handled so flawlessly that it blends into the reader’s awareness as the stories unfold rather than becoming a jarring case of information dumping. The Mystic Valley Series currently includes three titles: Dancer’s Delight, Traveller’s Refuge and Cherished Destinies and is available from Cerridwen Press and Ellora’s Cave.

Most Useful Writer’s Resource: The Novel Writer’s Toolkit.

Bob Mayer has created an effective and common sense guide to creating a novel. The information won’t make a person who isn’t a writer a writer, but it will certainly make you a better writer. The graphic organizers and the tips are presented in such as way as to make you think about how you are structuring your stories. It contains information on how to avoid some of the common pitfalls that many writer’s create including the afore mentioned information dumping. The seminar that Mayer presents around the country was insightful and immensely helpful. His book is an excellent resource for any writer.

Most Eye Opening/Boundary Pushing Experience: The Cress Brothers

Brynn Paulin’s trilogy for Ellora’s Cave’s Torrid Tarot series was an eye opening experience for me. I went into these books knowing nothing about and having had no background with the BDSM lifestyle, but being exceedingly curious. Books I’d read in the past had not been flattering of the lifestyle and had portrayed the Dom/sub role as an unequal and degrading one. But Paulin’s work is so laced with the emotional side of this dynamic that it was eye opening. Her characters were not role players, but are deeply entrenched in the lifestyle. But the love and affection and caring between Dom/sub was presented in a way that showed the tenderness and the true give and take between the roles. It showed the empowerment of the sub in a way I didn’t expect. The stories themselves were excellently written and the characters wonderfully developed. Paulin’s Torrid Tarot titles include On Your Knees, All Chained Up and Master Me and are available from Ellora’s Cave.

Most Fascinating Memoir: Born on a Blue Day

This autobiography was written by a remarkable individual. Daniel Tammet is a high-functioning autistic with Asperger’s syndrome. As a synethesist, Tammet’s perception of numbers crosses the visual/spacial realm of his senses. He sees numbers in terms of shapes, colors, textures and motions. Tammet describes the number five as a loud clap of thunder, while the number 89 reminds him of falling snow. Asperger’s can affect the individual’s ability to connect emotionally with his surroundings, making him detached and isolated. Tammet tells how he has learned to use his synethesia to learn to relate to others. The book is a riveting look inside the mind of one of the smartest men alive.

Most Impressive Find: The God Eaters

Jesse Hajicek’s book is published by a small print on demand press and came to my attention while ordering another book for my book group. The reviews were outstanding and the premise interesting. Ashleigh Trine is imprisoned by the theocratic government for “inflammatory” writings. Sent to a prison for the most vicious of convicts, the shy, scholarly Trine should be an easy target for the inmates. On the train, Trine meets Kieran Trevarde, a hardened and brutal assassin. Trevarde is doubly cursed with the forbidden dark magic hiding deep in his blood. And the prison to which both are being sent is no ordinary prison. Trevarde takes Trine under his protection in part because the smaller man’s frailty will give him plenty or excuses for the fighting that he understands. But Trevarde is also drawn to Trine for other reasons. This is the story of an unlikely set of heroes and an unlikely love that could just save their world. This book is one of the best reads I’ve come across with astoundingly well developed characters and a plot that is truly inspired. The God Eaters is available through http://www.amazon.com/

If you drop by tomorrow you'll find a continuation of this list dealing with characters, settings, plots etc. I'll tell you who I think is the most lickable character, the heroine I'd most want to be and even what character tugs at my heartstrings so much that I just want to take him home, coddle him and feed him warm milk and cookies.

2008-03-07T18:01:00.000-08:00

Not new, but how I'm feeling today.

On Becoming Invisible

Invisible
The smiling faces
Gazing back
Eyes look through
Glazed and unseeing
Because no one is here

A silent scream
Begging to be recognized
Becomes a murmur
A part of the drone
A whisper unheard
Unimportant, unheeded, unneeded

Laughter surrounds
Oblivious to the torment
Concealed so well
Because no one is seen
No one is noticed
Grey space filled but vacant

A shadow
A movement
From the corner of the eye
Gone in an instant
Unregistered by synapses
Forgotten before known

Invisible
Filler for the background
A shape without form
A blur of grey
Indistinguishable from the crowd
The tree lost in the forest

Breathing stops
Heartbeat stills
Humanity slips away
Fading away in the silence
Lesson taught, lesson learned
On Becoming Invisible

(Originally published in An Anthlogy of American Poets Vol. 4 in 2006)

I Like To Look At The Pictures

2008-02-28T21:23:00.001-08:00

Please note that some of the contents of today’s blog are not intended for those under 18. In fact, now that we mention it, the contents of this blog are never intended for someone under 18. If you’re under 18, why are you on this blog on a school night? Go study something.

Today’s blog was inspired by two events that involved the sharing of inspirational pictures among very serious professionals. Okay, even I can’t say that with a straight face. First a friend of mine slipped a pic into an email as part of a joke I'll explain later. Secondly, a bit back, an author I know shared with some of us that a fan had sent her pictures of rather sexy men as inspiration. This author refused to share. Hmmphf.

Today another author shared a picture of a rather delightfully formed male. It wasn’t nudity, exactly. A nice bare chest, an open pair of jeans and a strategically placed hand and you have a nice pic. I’m a firm believer in the tease. Show me a bit and my imagination will do the rest. And do it better. It won’t matter if you’re too ripped, and yes, in my humble opinion a man can be too ripped. If he looks like he spends every waking moment at the gym he’s going to be too tired to do anything else. Not to mention the over stuffed, can’t put his arms down, can touch his knees together look is not one that appeals to me. Flawed can be very good.

Back to my original intent. I seem to receive a lot of emails like the one today. For some reason people seem to think it’s a good idea to send me pictures of attractive men. I don’t know why, but they do. And no, I’m not complaining. I was asked, when I was doing my profiles on my male characters, how I came by all these pictures. That’s one way, diligent searches of Google images is another. Today, I’d like to join the ranks of the unselfish and share the pictures that I’ve received in the past. Some famous men, some not. But all very pretty so I’ll intersperse them through out this post.

I have, however noticed in these pictures, which I would assume are designed to appeal to either straight/bisexual women or gay/bisexual men, that the poses are often not quite erotic if you think about them too much. They often fall into one of three categories:

1. That can’t be comfortable
2. What exactly is he surprised at?
3. Is he afraid it’s going to fall off?

That can’t be comfortable relates to photos where the location of the shot just doesn’t look like someplace I’d find erotic. Say…oh, I don’t know…a pile of straw or hay. Straw and hay that have been baled are not soft and sweet smelling like grass. They are itchy and can smell damp and moldy if not stored correctly. So I look at those pictures and think to myself…ouch! Also, sex on a beach looks good on celluloid, but let's face it, there are too many damp crevices involved for that to be a good idea.

What exactly is he surprised at refers to pictures where the man seems to be examining his manly parts with surprise or amusement. Exactly what is funny down there? Care to share with the class? And while we’re on the topic I have been told unequivocally by my brothers and male friends that it is never ever a good thing to laugh at the manly parts. So what is it? Someone drop a feather down your pants? You’ve been swimming in cold water and are astonished that it really does shrink? It looks different than it did yesterday? What? Share.

Often men in such “sexy” pictures are seen holding their manly parts. Now perhaps this is because he has just looked and been surprised and needs a tactile confirmation of what he saw, or perhaps it is because he’s afraid it’s going to fall off. I can’t think of a single occasion when I’ve seen a man in real life grab the merchandize that it wasn’t an insult, crude or an expression of fear. Of course if he has delayed reactions it could be a sign of pain because he didn’t grab fast enough.

I do appreciate, however, the photographers and models willingness to accept that contrary to popular belief women do like to look at pictures of male beauty. Not only do we enjoy it aesthetically, but we also enjoy it on an erotic scale. Granted we are not the visual creatures men are, but we still like an illustrated classic as much as the guys.

I was working on an article a couple of years ago on writing slash. Slash is a term used in fanfiction to refer to a same sex relationship. The purpose of the article was to help those who were writing same sex relationships without a base of personal knowledge to understand there were basic differences in arousal and reactions based on gender. It truly was fascinating.

Researchers tested the arousal of straight men and women and gay men and women using self-reported arousal as well as measuring physiological changes. Arousal does not mean reactions to actual sexual interaction and activity, but the body’s “interest signals”. The beginnings of erection, the dilation of the pupils, the start of lubrication, increase in rate and shallowness of breathing, and increase in skin surface temperatures were the arousal indicators tested.

The first result was one that might be surprising. Men have long been labeled with the stereotype of being easily aroused. The truth is that men, gay and straight, had a more defined parameter of what they found arousing than women. For example, most women showed some evidence of arousal outside their sexual orientation while men didn’t. Women who had reported no interest in alternative lifestyles showed higher rates of arousal when exposed to images of said lifestyles than did men.

The thing I found most interesting in the studies I looked at for the article was how polar opposite males and females were in what senses or avenues of arousal most affected them in all but one area. Males showed significant arousal to visual and tactile stimulation (viewing erotic images and casual touch). Women, not as much. Women were significantly aroused by auditory stimulus (voices, sounds of lovemaking) and by cognitive stimulation (stories, appeals to imagination and that lovely running commentary in our heads). Men, not as much.

What did we have in common? Olfactory responses. Both sexes showed significant reactions and arousal rates to trigger scents. Not the same ones, but reactions to scents were equal.

Just a bit of useless information.

And now to the pic that a friend sent me today. It's a bit of a running joke among us. I save pics of Hugh Jackman and Christian Bale that I'll slip into emails, she slips in pics of Gerard Butler. I'm a moderate fan of this guy and think he's adorable and a better actor than he often gets credit for. (We won't discuss Dracula 2000, everyone's got one they need to bury.) So, for my final offering I thought I'd share the picture that Anna sent me today.

No Particular Place to Go

2008-02-27T20:10:00.000-08:00

"Riding along in my automobile
My baby beside me at the wheel
I stole a kiss at the turn of a mile
My curiosity runnin' wild
Crusin' and playin' the radio
With no particular place to go"
~Chuck Berry

No this particular bit of rumination isn't about cruisin' and parkin' with your sweetie. Though that is a thought for another time. Where did you and you're darlin' like to go? Was there a cruising strip in your town?

But as I said, what I'm thinking about tonight isn't steaming up windows on the side roads or in the cemetary, at the drive in or lover's lane. This is about an entirely innocent kind of cruising that is interconnected to some of the best memories I have of being a child.

My father and mother divorced when I was barely 2. I never knew him. I still don't, the last time I saw him I was 8 or 9 years old. I could honestly pass the man on the street and not know it was him. I doubt he would know me either. My stepfather is my dad. He and my mother married when I was 3 or just about to turn 4. Their marriage didn't last, but he didn't bail on me or my younger sister when the divorce occurred. He stayed in our lives and had visitation rights for us as well as my second sister, his biological daughter. I was about 8 when they divorced.

Money wasn't good for either of my parents. My mother turned to public assistance. Once a month she'd get a check to help cover the costs of raising three daughters that my dad's child support didn't cover. This is not a dead-beat dad story or a story of a father who didn't care, my dad paid child support the best he could, it just wasn't enough.

Back to the memories I mentioned earlier. Once a month, just after the check arrived, my mom would load us into the car and we would spend that Saturday or Sunday afternoon at the grocery store buying the non-perishable food for the entire month a head. We all helped collect boxes at the local bag your own. We all helped box the food, load it into the car and carry it inside. We helped put it away.

We usually got finished in time for a bit of play. In my case that meant reading a book or hanging out with my best friend Marcy. Just as the streetlights started to come on, we'd all make sure we were home. We knew what the first weekend of the month would mean. It was a ritual.

Mom piled us into the car with a blanket or two and we'd go fill up the gas tank. She'd drive us into town and to the local ice cream store. Maybe Baskin Robbins in the fall, but in the summer it was The Custard Cup. Ah, the Custard Cup. The bastion of quality soft serve ice cream in our home town. It was an institution that stretched back years. Each of us with our ice cream, my mom would turn on the radio in the car, roll down the windows and take us for a drive.
We drove through the fancy neighborhoods picking out the houses we'd one day live in. The holiday season always saw us cruising the streets looking at the lighting displays while we drank shakes from McDonalds.

Then mom would head out of town onto the country roads and we'd feel the wind wipping throught the windows as we drove down the country lanes. Then, sometimes, she would pull off on to the side of the road on an old blacktop road and cut the engine. We sat quietly and looked off to our left. There was the screen for the local drive in. There was no sound, but as we sat there finishing our treats, eyes growing heavy, heads nodding, we drank in the images on the movie screen. Actually going to the drive in was a rare treat, but it did happen. But more often than not, if a family show was playing, we'd sit there and watch several minutes of it, wondering what was happening.

Then my mother would start the car and drive us back home, waking up weary grouchy children to stumble into the house to stand grumpily in line so we could have our dirty faces and hands washed before finally falling into bed.

I'm not sure why those nights were such wonderful memories. Maybe because they take me to a time and to moments when it was just us girls. My mom, me, Staci and Carla. Just us. No drama from my mom's boyfriends. No picking and nagging little sisters. No one who wanted to hurt me or anyone I loved. Just us girls.

Medical Woes

2008-02-25T17:42:00.001-08:00

I admire and respect doctors who do their jobs well. I admire anyone who does their job well as long as their job is not to screw over me or anyone else, i.e. most politicians and the IRS. It’s tax time. Can ya tell? I hate inefficiency and people who have or perpetuate systems that screw with people, particularly in very important areas of life. Like doctors.

I’m mentioned before that my SO and I have decided to try to expand our little family with something that doesn’t require annual rabies shots. Lots of other kinds of shots, but not rabies. Since neither of us are spring chickens we decided to seek a bit of help from our local women’s clinic.

Testing over, we were told the importance of following the natural woman’s cycle carefully. Appointments must be made and kept. A sonogram must be completed between days 3 and 5 of the cycle and again between days 12 and 15. Every thing must be timed exactly.

So today the call is made. It’s day one, let’s schedule the sonogram. Well, day 3 is Wednesday and the doctors office confesses they don’t have a sonogram tech on Wednesday, or Thursday during the day. So the sonogram will have to be at 9pm on Thursday. A joke you ask? Nope, I’m not smiling folks. Then the doctor must be seen so that she can prescribe the helpful little Clomid pills. (Yes, those of you who read Access Denied, those Clomid pills really do exist.) But the doctor isn’t available until Friday and the pills must be started on day 5.

Now why is this a problem? Because Friday is a very important children’s lit conference, one that had to be committed to seven months ago. Can the doctor read the results and call in the prescription? No. It must be face to face. Why? Is there really a big black market for Clomid?

When you sign on to treat fertility issues and everything must be timed so carefully, you would think you would plan a bit better, be a bit more flexible. Grrrr

~~~~~~~~~~~

Not what I wanted to hear on a Monday morning. I hate mornings. I am not a morning person and never will be. No amount of “oh but look at the fresh clean day full of promise” crap will ever make me be a morning person. I like sleep. Sleep likes me. I am one of those people who can fall asleep any time, any place. I can sleep longer than my dog, and if you own a dog you know that’s saying something.

It doesn’t help the cause that I have to get up around 4:30 each morning to make myself presentable to leave the house before 6am so I can drive an hour and a half to work. The ride home is two or more hours, so I guess I’m getting off easy.

This morning I’m in the shower trying to become remotely coherent. My eyes are still closed and I’m doing the “If I don’t open my eyes, I’m not really awake” thing trying to fool my brain into thinking I’m still asleep. Not that it’s ever worked. My SO comes into the bathroom and mumbles something that sounds like it could be an alien language. I give my usual, “I haven’t had my coffee yet, so don’t bug me” one syllable grunt.

When I finally climb out of the shower I find my SO standing there with a face that looks like someone inflated it like a balloon. Another lovely allergy reaction to goodness knows what. I shove a bottle of benedryl at the poor dear with orders to take it, run downstairs and fire up the computer. Sounds like an odd reaction I know. But at that point I have only seconds left before the window on the computerized subfinder program my school district uses shuts down and starts calling subs.

How does this fit with a rant about doctors?:

Because upon calling the allergist’s office, I discover that there are no doctors available today. Evidently Monday is the new Thursday and no allergist in their group works on Mondays. They will however be happy to page someone and get a prescription called in for prednisone (without seeing my SO) or we can go to the emergency room.

*head to desk*

Proud Romance Reader

2008-02-23T21:23:00.000-08:00

Don’t let anyone ever discount romance novels or their readers. I confess to you shamefacedly that I was once a closet romance reader. I once allowed myself to be embarrassed by my penchant for the genre.

It wasn’t always that way. I think my love of romances, stories about love and the relationships between people, began in what might seem an unlikely place. It began with the chickenpox. I got the chickenpox when I was 9 or 10 years old. My Aunt Jo had me and three of my younger sisters as my mom was having gallbladder surgery. Surprise! We all three developed the lovely virus.

To keep us entertained my grandparents brought us books, coloring books, crayons and other things to do with little hands so they didn’t scratch. In between oatmeal baths and being doused in nasty smelling calamine lotion, I dove into the book my grandfather had brought me. Little Women.

Now it may seem odd to some to give a 10 year old Little Women. First of all I’d always been a strong reader. Growing up wasn’t pony rides and party dresses for our family. Reading helped me forget. Secondly, it was just my grandfather’s way. He was always bringing me books that were supposed to be way too advanced. It was he who planted the idea in my head I could be anything I wanted.

Back to romances. I loved the story of Little Women though I frankly think Teddy got short changed. Amy? I thought Jo was crazy for refusing him until Professor Baer came into the picture. Even at that age I understood the difference.

In middle school, my friend Trina introduced me to Harlequins. Back then the girls were always virgins and the couple never had sex until they were married. And the sex was vivid descriptions of kissing, his hands touching her back or face and then of course she would nearly faint as he “showed her the greatest of all pleasures a woman could know, one only a man could give her.”

When exactly did romance develop negative connotations? And why? Why when I sit in a café or at the lunch table do I feel compelled to put a book cover or a sticky note over the cover of the book? When, how and why did I let society do this to me? Why should I feel embarrassed?

Well, no more. I’m not going to hide my books. So come on now, throw out those old book covers, stop bending back the covers on the books. Be a romance reader and be a proud one!

Of course trying to read erotica in a public place will still make me blush. I’m still recovering from the decision to read Anny Cook’s Chrysanthemum while in a hotel restaurant. I guess I’m a work in progress.

So recommendations then? Yep, I finished two good ones yesterday.

Time for Love
by Kelly Kirch
From Cerridwen Press
This is a great Regency era with a time travel twist.

Sarah is transported back in time and into the life of a Regency era widow who is supposed to be acting as the chaperone to a young cousin in her first London season. As difficult as that may be, it’s complicated by her growing attraction to a known rake, Lord Hayworth. He’s sexy, seductive and obviously attracted to Sarah. Unfortunately he’s also very much promised to her young cousin.

Sarah and Drake are great characters. You want to cheer for them. Well done, Ms. Kirch!

Honeysuckle
By Anny Cook
From Ellora's Cave

Anny Cook has become one of my favorite writers in the past year since I signed my first contract with Cerridwen Press and discovered the wonderful world of ebooks. Honeysuckle is a hot, steamy sequel to Chrysathemum. I don’t think I’ve run across something that has made me laugh and fan myself so much.

Honeysuckle doesn’t believe one man could ever be enough, but it seems to be her fate as her father seeks to marry her off. Enter two gorgeous men who see in Honeysuckle exactly the woman they’ve been dreaming of. Peter and Dick Hieney have waited all their lives for a woman like this and aren’t about to let her get away. More than woman enough to keep them both on their toes, she goes with them. But convincing her to marry them amidst a plot to end the rule of King Arthur, while battling an evil sorceress, and the temptation of beautiful studdly men who just happen to be unicorns? That might not be so easy.

And its given me a new crush. They may be twins but I could choose. The sign of great characterization. They came alive as individuals. (Oh, and the ending is priceless. Poor Blessing. Poor Peter.)

What kind of books do you write?

2008-02-22T17:21:00.000-08:00

Since I received my first book contract the question I've been asked the most is "What kind of books do you write?" Now on the surface that doesn't seem like a difficult question, but it is one that has left me hemming and hawwing for answers.

Maybe it's because my first book, Access Denied, was not like the rest of the stories I tend to have in my head. It was a futuristic, soft science fiction story set in a world where almost everything is controlled for you. But this book is an anomaly among my stories. So if I tell you that I write futuristic, soft science fiction and you pick up one of the other books you will think me mad.

Most of the other stories that have been/are being published fit into the paranormal genre. I have a series that isn’t a labeled series because I only recently figured out what to call it. In the little world I’ve created, a race of shape-shifters have come to our dimension seeking peace. They are forced to tie their life energies to those of indigenous animals to stay in this new haven they call Semira. Measure of Healing follows my Cougars and Mating Stone (and the coming sequel, Lovers’ Stone) follows my Bears. There are 13 races in all. So I write paranormals or fantasy—but then again…

Seeing Me is due out in March. Again, it is neither a science fiction story nor a paranormal. Granted it is filled with fantasies, but that’s not its genre. It’s a contemporary story about a writer who meets a man that has women all over the world panting. The best part is, he seems to be very interested making her pant. So I write contemporary…or not.

And my Works in Progress (WIPs) are no help either. One is the final installment in the Stones trilogy. One is the sequel to Measure of Healing that takes us to the world of the Wolves. One is a story about a young woman who goes home to the small town she fled and finds not much has changed, but what has is the boy next door. One is the retelling of a popular myth. And finally one is a completely different piece about dragons and healers and warriors.

So I give up folks. Don’t ask me what kind of books I write because the answer you’ll get will be the same one I give to my students when I’m in a contrary mood and they ask what kind of book I brought for the day’s read-aloud.

“The kind you read.”

Stayed up all night reading…

2008-02-19T14:14:00.000-08:00

It’s been a while since I’ve done that, but I finally wrestled the latest Sherrilyn Kenyon book away from my SO who loves the paranormal adventure and vampire butt-kicking but skims over the “icky parts.” Needless to say I enjoyed Dream Chaser a great deal. It’s the last taste of the Dark Hunters before Kenyon finally delivers on the one we’ve all been waiting for: Acheron’s book.

I liked the hero, Xypher, this time around much better than I have the last couple of guys. But since my favorites include Zarek, Fury, Wren…yep guess I like them seriously screwed up. Bring on the borderline-sociopaths with a soft spot. But hide it deep. Odd since if you asked me my absolute fav. Kenyon guy I’d go hands down for Vane. Any guy who looks at a size 18 woman with serious drooling, ‘gotta have me that lust’ gets my vote.

After basking in the good story afterglow for a bit, I started trying to figure out the twists and turns she’s given us. Kenyon doesn’t seem to do anything incidentally or accidentally. I admit it. I’m friggin’ dying to know how Kyle Peltier, a young Katagari (Were), is walking around in broad daylight when he should barely be able to hold a human form at his age in the daylight. Just a couple of books ago he was still shifting back to animal form when his brother threw meat at him because he couldn’t control it. Is she pulling a Vane/Fury on us?

But now that I’ve done the basking and the wondering I’m going to do what was recommended in a recent workshop. I’m going to dissect this and figure out how she does it. Or that’s the theory anyway. How does she create pacing that keeps you turning the pages at 2am? How does she manipulate the plot so as to keep you hooked and sucked in for book after book after book?How does she create her characters so realistically and yet perfectly that you want to knock down the heroine and take him for yourself? (I’m telling you, Vane’s mate would be in serious trouble if he was corporeal. Zarek’s is a goddess and even I’m not that stupid.)

If I figure it out, I’ll let ya know.

Now an excerpt from a little Were story. Measure of Healing is available through Cerridwen Press.

“Now,” [Brie] turned from him, walked up to the wall just outside the boy’s room and placed her hand on it. “If you’re here to help, here’s the first thing you can do for me.” She turned to look at him.

“What?” she seemed to have completely abandoned the antagonistic posture of just moments ago. Her mouth was actually turned up at one corner in what was almost a grin. He moved over to where she stood. He saw a rectangular shape drawn on the wall in pencil.

“I need a two way mirror here,” she pointed to the drawing.

“I don’t have my tools with me,” he shook his head puzzled, “I left everything in my father’s workshop.”

It was her turn to look confused. He explained. “Unless you have the equipment we’re stuck. Besides, I’m not sure the kid would appreciate us remodeling around him.”

She laughed. “Cougar, I wasn’t asking you to install a two way mirror, I was asking you to create one. You know? Magic?”

So she knew about the magic. Very few of the gifted humans knew that any of the Weres could wield magic. It was one of the rules of the council. They weren’t to perform magic before humans. Rules were broken all the time but this was one the Cougars were hesitant to break. In the back of his people’s minds lived the fear that some day the council would find a way and a reason to take the magic away from those Weres who had refused to relinquish it. It would lead to war as the Cougars would not let it go easily. So far their Domini had clung to the right for all Weres, insisting that those who turned their backs on the magic were fools. The current Dominus had told the council to go to hell when they suggested the Cougars cut back on the reliance of their people on the powers they had brought with them into the human world.

“Right.” Alejandro ran his hand through his hair and shook his head He pressed his hand to the wall and focused. Slowly he drew the outline of the area with one finger. As his hand moved a trail of silver lay in its wake. Once the outline was completed, he placed his hand in the center of the box and the interior changed. It was now transparent and he could see the room on the other side. The boy slept quietly in his box.

“Thank you,” Brie gave him a soft smile. “This will make it easier.” She turned away from him and walked to the end of the hall. “Why don’t I show you were you’ll sleep, then we can find you something to eat.”

He nodded. He was starving and exhausted. He’d had little time before her arrival that evening. Just enough to throw some things in a bag, gulp down a bit of dinner and be ready. He’d had to spend most of the day at his father’s office dealing with one of the more unsavory construction companies his father was forced to sub-contract with by the economic conditions.

The Ramirez family was in demand for their work on hardwood flooring and custom cabinetry. Given the nocturnal nature of his animal side, he usually spent the bulk of his days sleeping and late afternoons and nights in the workshop making the cabinets, railings and scrollwork that was ordered. He still worried that his brothers would have trouble keeping up with the orders. Eddie had promised to help but he had a job now that took him away from the family and the last thing Alejandro wanted was for his father, at seventy-two, to have to try and pick up the slack. His two oldest nephews were showing an interest in the business and were earning money for the college years that were fast approaching by working part-time but the family agreed their schoolwork came first.

He followed her down the hall. She entered a large room with a king sized bed, a dresser, night stand and large wardrobe. The furniture was a dark mahogany that matched the wooden trim running along the ceiling and floor. A wooden chair rail circled the room separating a plum striped wallpaper on the bottom and a pale mauve paint above. The wood had been laid in alternating strips of mahogany and cherry. He ran the palm of his hand over the door jam and the nearest section of the chair rail. Someone had known what they were doing. She crossed to the wardrobe and pulled out a small stack of clothes from a drawer that she left open. He half watched her as she moved to the closet and pulled out a blanket and pillow. He walked further into the room, running his hand along the wall. Then he moved toward the bed and his palm stroked the wood.

“Stop that!” she said sharply.

Alejandro’s eyes widened in surprise. She was glaring at him with a peeved expression. “What?” he demanded.

“Stop scent marking my house. You rubbed against the wall in the boy’s room, now you’re marking this one. I swear if you spray something I’ll neuter you myself.” She stomped out of the room.

He looked up at his hand where it still lay against the wooden post of the bed. And he laughed. He hadn’t realized he’d been doing it. He’d rubbed his back on the wall in the boy’s room on purpose. He wanted Tomás to know he was there. But he’d been rubbing his palm along the surfaces of this room, her room, absently. The palm of his hand where, like the pads of the cougar’s feet and along his spine, he had oil glands that left his mark upon what he touched. His amusement faded slightly as he began to wonder at just how much about him and his kind his little doctor seemed to know. He left the room and followed his nose to find her. She was making up a bed in a smaller room. It was so small it fit only the single bed and a narrow dresser.

She looked up at him, still irritated. “What have you got in that thing?”

He frowned, “What thing?”

She stood up from smoothing the blanket and pointed at his bag where it hung from his shoulder. “What, you keep all your cash in there? The secret map to a treasure chest heaping with gold? Why are you still carrying it? What’s in there that’s so special?”

He lifted an eyebrow at the sudden return of animosity and sat it down on the floor inside the door. “Nothing special, just your basics.”

She walked passed him, picked up the bag and headed down the hall. “Hey,” he went after her, “that is mine you know.”

“Cats,” she muttered under her breath. Reaching the larger room she placed it on the bed. “Then you’ll probably want it in your room.”

Realizing what was happening, he shook his head. “No, thanks little doctor but I’m fine in the other room.”

She smiled at him with a wicked light in her eyes that set him on edge. “You don’t think I’m sacrificing a good night’s sleep for you, do you?”

“No. Now why would I think that? You’re only trying to give me the bigger room, your room.” Alejandro gestured with his hand. “You’re sleeping in here. I’ll take the other room.”

Her eyes narrowed. Brie was well aware it wasn’t exactly nice of her to deliberately confuse the poor man but all things considered it was damned satisfying. “I thought you said you were going to cooperate with me?”

“I said I wouldn’t interfere in your treatment of Tomás.”

“Well, that’s exactly what you’re doing.” Her hands rested on her hips. “I need to be in that other room. It’s closer to him, it has a vent between the two rooms that will allow me to hear him, allow him to hear me and allow my scent to reach him even when I’m not in the room.” She moved to the door. “So be a good boy and sleep where you’re told. I’ll get the rest of my things moved in the morning.” Pausing she looked back over her shoulder. “Meet me in the kitchen when you’re done. I’m going to put something on for dinner. Hope you don’t mind but I’m a strict vegetarian.” She flashed him a wicked “you’re so screwed,” grin and left.

Some Days Are Like That...

2008-02-17T19:41:00.000-08:00

This was not a good day. In fact, it was one of those days when very little good occurred.

The day started off badly at lunch. We went to a restaurant that we occasionally frequent. It was not our first time there. In fact we go about once a month. And yes, I'm going to call them out by name. Provinos in Kennesaw, Georgia. The food that was ordered came out badly. As the name would suggest it is an Italian restaurant. The dish that was served to me had burnt cheese on top and the "lasagna" that was supposed to be part of the combination amounted to three half noodles and some tomato sauce. It took 15 minutes for us to get the attention of our server, one who had waited on us before. She had a large party and us in her room. I finally had to go have someone track her down for us.

When I asked her to remove the dish, uneaten, she did so. The "proprietor", as he was later identified to us, came over to the table and asked about the issue. I explained the problem and he rather snottily says "No one else has had a problem, just you." He then, very put out, asks if he can bring me something else. I told him that fifteen-twenty minutes ago when the problem was first notice, perhaps, but not now as my SO had finished eating and we were ready to leave. He then says that the server is a sweetheart who has been with him from the beginning.

Now the only complaint I had against the server was the fact that I spent the extended period of time waiting for her to reenter the room so I could flag her down and eventually had to go ask someone to find her. As the "proprietor" walked away he nastily says, "I'll be sure to reprimand her."

My response across the room was, "And you'll be a smart-ass while you do it too, I'm sure."

Ultimately you would have expected the dish to have been removed from our bill, right? No. It wasn't. I informed the server who he sent back in to deal with us and the bill that he, not her, had just lost them two semi-regular customers as we won't be back and we will make sure to tell everyone we know about how we were treated. So, I'd suggest everyone else try the Olive Garden across the street.

But the day was not over.

Have you ever wondered what happens when there is a severe weather warning while you are in a large department store? Unfortunately today I found out. Now, where I grew up, if the civil defense siren went off it meant there was a tornado coming and you had a matter of seconds-minutes to get to safety. Where I live now the blow the blasted thing for any type of weather "emergency".

It has been a rainy day. The rain was actually so heavy that we could hear it from inside, pounding down on the roof of our local WalMart. And while we were shopping at Wally-World the sirens went off. Mind you they did this just after I'd finally convinced the SO that you actually needed to try on clothes before you bought them so I don't have to make return trips and exchange them. So while my dearest was in the dressing room....Sirens!

Okay, that part was funny.

The announcement came over the intercom that there was a severe thunderstorm warning. No duh! We've been listening to the severe thunderstorm boom thunder and pour rain, while watching the lights flicker. So what is the response? The customers are rounded up along with the staff and asked to crowd around the fitting rooms. I looked at my SO in shock. They must be kidding. They weren't. Finally, the warning was downgraded to a watch and we were allowed to resume our shopping.

Our natural response after such a run of rotten luck was to seek out that Mecca of peace and revitalization known as the book store. My SO had just learned about the must read "Ghost Hunting" by the tv guys. That's okay. While hanging out in the paranormal section I ran across an encyclopedia of werewolves. Guess what went in my half of the shopping basket?

And on a completely unrelated topic.

I don't watch television. I don't have cable or satellite. My television operates only to play dvds.

Thanks to Blockbuster, I finally have gotten a chance to see the first three episodes of the first season of The Tudors. I love this time period in history. I adore it. I devour biographies of that time period and the Elizabethan era that followed. I’m not so much on the romanticized historical fiction set there, but the history fascinates me.

Well, the series is quite enjoyable if taken as fiction. At least they’ve gotten the names of the characters correct. I keep having to explain the historical inaccuracies to my SO who will tolerate this particular obsession and who has even agreed to go see The Other Boleyn Girl with me later this month. (I suspect this has more to do with Natalie Portman than an interest in the film itself.) But with some suspended disbelief it is quite interesting.

There is just one troubling point…I really doubt that everyone walked around naked or half naked at King Henry VIII’s court. Good heavens I know Henry was a lusty fellow but I doubt the women of his court ran about naked to this degree. Of course I know there are those who would not complain if Jonathan Rhys Meyers and Henry Cavill ran about naked a bit more.

You must admit, sometimes fiction beats the hell out of history…

Five You Shouldn't Miss

2008-02-16T19:34:00.000-08:00

I've been reading a lot of really great books lately. Elyssa is the Review editor for an online magazine known as eMuse and I get to go along for the ride. It's wonderful to get to read so many terrific books even if I don't always get to do the reviews for them. (It's a bit of a conflict of interest since so many are Ellora's Cave and Cerridwen Press books.)

But on my blog I get to say what I want and be as biased toward anyone I feel like. Even my fellow froggies. Yes I said froggies. If you frequent Anny Cook or Amarinda Jones' blogs you'll know our editor maintains a group for her writers called the frogpond, and we are her froggies.

So now, the best, last, five books I've read. Some are EC/CP, some aren't. Some are ebooks, some aren't.

Playing to Win by Shelley Munro
Cerridwen Press

Kate Alexander's world is set spinning when professional rugby player Lance Gerrard shows up at her door demanding to know why she has sold a story to the local paper claiming he was the father of her son. Only Kate didn't tell the story. In fact, Kate doesn't know who Jamie's father was. But one look at the boy convinces Lance his definitely a Gerrard. While the two try to unravel the truth of Jamie's past, a stalker set's their sites on eliminating Kate.

Ronan's Grail by Bronwyn Green
Ellora's Cave

Ronan, knight in the service of King Arthur, bastard son of Lancelot of the Lake, finds himself thrust into the future by Merlin's magic with the imperative: Find the grail. His search takes him to the time and place of Morgan Foster. A impulsive act of body art has Ronan convinced she is the Grail. This very hot tale of a clash of cultures and a passion that is more powerful than any magic dreamed of hinges on the ability of love to overcome time.

Winter's Daughter by JC Wilder
Samhain Publishing

Synnamon Angelov lost everything the night her mother was killed. The police cover up denied her justice and scattered the Angelov children like the wind. Twenty years later Syn has come home to demand justice and to reclaim the family's home and the magic contained there. Police Chief Matthew Whitefeather knew little about the old story of Syn's family and believed even less until her arrival creates massive upheaval in his quiet little town. Once he hears her story, his honor won't let him rest until he redeems his department. And helping the beautiful woman may be his goal, but his desire is to have her in his arms.

Nightwalkers: Jacob by Jacquelyn Frank
Zebra/Kensington

I came late to this series. I kept picking it up and putting it down and was reluctant because it seemed like the same old thing. Another paranormal hunter. Woohoo. But I was wrong.

Jacob is the Enforcer for his people. It's his job to protect humans from those among his race that would prey upon them. Touching humans, interacting with humans was prohibited. Mating with one was forbidden and called down the wrath of the Enforcer and a punishment so terrible that centuries could not erase it. And Jacob was perfect. Never had he been tempted. Until now. Until Isabella. When he reacts instinctively and saves her life, the simple touch between them sets off a fire storm that will sweep through his people and rip away all that they thought they knew about themselves.

Chrysanthemum by Anny Cook
Ellora's Cave

Imagine the story of King Arthur was nothing like you thought. Imagine that instead of dying, he was actually kidnapped and taken back to his home planet of Came-a-lot. (Yep, I spelled that right.) And the whole story had been cleaned up and stripped of all its erotic glory for the world he left behind. Now, while Arthur is way on his annual dragon and virgin roundup, his son Gareth has found his own virgin. And blast it all, if he- a royal- wants to marry her, she has to stay that way until the wedding night. Enter the dragon Percival who himself seeks a virgin. He captures Arthur and demands that Chrysanthemum, possibly the last virgin in all of Came-a-lot, as ransom. Now, sex and hilarity ensue as Gareth must save his father and his bride.

Up next on my list to read?

Honeysuckle by Anny Cook -sequel to Chrysanthemum
Time for Love by Kelly Kirch -combines Regency romance with time travel.
The Lords of Satyr: Nicholas by Elizabeth Amber -I had to buy it for the warning lable on the back that reads : WARNING! This is a REALLY HOT book. (sexually explicit) Is that marketing or what?
Four and Twenty Black Birds by Cherie Priest -Southern gothic ghosts... cool.

More than one kind of Vampire

2008-02-12T17:10:00.000-08:00

Eternally Yours Contest

“My darling I could spend eternity lost in your eyes.”

What could you spend an eternity doing? What is your passion? Your hunger? Your deepest desire?

Each day beginning February 5 and running through February 14 one of the ten authors will complete the line, "My darling I could spend eternity…" on either their blog or website. Collect all ten answers and e-mail them to anny@annycook.com with Eternally Yours in the subject line to win some hot, romantic books. There will be three lucky Valentine winners.

The prizes –
1st prize--5 books
2nd prize--3 books
3rd prize--2 books

Entries must be in by February 16 at midnight EST. All books and prize winners will be drawn randomly.

Sandra Cox Silverhills
Mona Risk To Love a Hero
Brynn Paulin Tribute For the Goddess
Bronwyn Green Mystic Circle
Cindy Spencer Pape Stone and Earth
N.J. Walters Seduction of Shamus O’Rourke
Elyssa Edwards Mating Stone
Amarinda Jones Shades of Gray
Kelly Kirch Time for Love
Anny Cook Honeysuckle

Tonight’s Guy:

Tarris
Incubus
Occupation: You’re joking, right? Sexual vampire…walks through your dreams… get the picture?
Age: 110 (looks to be about 25-26)
Story: First appears in Mating Stone by Elyssa Edwards from Ellora’s Cave. Will also appear in Lovers’ Stone due in July ‘08 and his book is a current WIP that is not yet contracted.

Tarris is a unique being. He is an incubus, part of a race of sexual vampires who feed of the erotic energies of others. Found orphaned as a small child when simple happy feelings fed him, he was taken in by a Were who raised him along side his own sons. The boys grew closer than mere friends. Closer than simple brothers. When Tarris reached maturity and his body threatened to transform into the creature that terrifies and hunts women to the point of madness, his Bears closed ranks. A series of rules were divined to keep him from transforming. Rules he doesn’t dare break for fear of becoming the vile predator he despises. His Bears help him feed safely, sharing their partners with him. And more importantly they’ve sworn an oath that they will never allow him to turn.

Only now as he watches his Bears find mates of their own, something aches inside Tarris. Something he shouldn’t feel, shouldn’t want, haunts him. Born one of the soulless ones, he should never hunger for love, family, or that one person who would be his. But against all reason something inside him yearns for what his Bears have. Someone who is his and his alone. A mate. But the only way to find it just may be to break the very rules that protect him. The very rules that keep him safe. For if he turns, the two men who have been closest to him his entire life, just may be forced to keep their terrible promise.

Excerpt from Mating Stone:

“I suddenly feel as if I have a headache,” she admitted. “Suddenly I’m very sleepy.” Mark nodded curtly, opened the door and led her into a large bedroom with an enormous comfortable bed and a fire burning in the fireplace. Two armchairs faced a television set. An old kung-fu movie was playing and she was fairly sure the guy kicking major butt was Bruce Lee.

Her eyes widened as a man stood up and looked at them. Holy hell! Mark was gorgeous. She adored Mark. Mark made her toes curl and her insides melt. But this man was beyond anything she’d ever seen before. He was desire, he was sex.

His long blond hair hung almost to his waist, flowing loosely around his shoulders. It wasn’t a brash platinum blond but shone like polished gold in the reflected firelight. His eyes were the most blue she’d ever seen, they almost glowed. No one had eyes like that unless they were retouched by special effects experts. It must be a trick of the light, she decided.

He was inches taller than Mark and wore only a neat pair of black slacks. His feet and chest were bare. Sarah felt something very warm begin deep inside her as she looked at that chest. It was tanned and smooth. The way the flicker firelight cast shadows highlighted the definition of the abs and tempted Sarah. The sharply etched muscles seemed to demand she trace them. With hands, lips, tongue, whatever was handy. He didn’t speak but watched her for a minute before smiling. Her body reacted to that smile shamelessly. He broke eye contact and shifted his gaze to Mark.

Sara drew in a sharp breath. What is wrong with you? Mark is standing right behind you and you’re ogling some strange guy. She groaned inwardly. You’re ogling his friend, a guy he called more than a brother.

Mark’s hands came up to rest on her shoulders. She turned to steal a glance at him and saw him smiling down at her. “It’s okay Sarah. Tarris often has that effect on people, men and women. He’s one of the most beautiful beings you’ll ever see.”

She flushed bright red and covered her face with her hands. Mark’s voice came from close to her ear. “He says you are beautiful too.”

Looking up she saw the smile had widened on Tarris’ face. He nodded his agreement with Mark’s words. “But you didn’t speak.” Sarah frowned.

Tarris shook his head, his lips parting to show her straight white teeth. A shiver ran through her and sank deep into the pit of her stomach.

Mark stepped around her. He grabbed his friend in a firm embrace and the two exchanged the manliest hug Sarah had ever seen. Arm still draped around Tarris, Mark turned to her. “Tarris doesn’t speak like you or I.”

“You’re mute?” she asked and he nodded in reply. “But you can hear?”

Tarris nodded again.

“Do you use sign language?” Sarah had learned a bit of finger spelling at summer camp.

The long hair caught the firelight and shimmered as the handsome head shook, the blue eyes crinkling with amusement.

“Don’t worry, he gets his point across,” Mark said wryly, tightening his arm around his friend’s shoulders. A silent laugh shook the blond man’s shoulders. Mark turned to him. “Sarah’s head is feeling funny.” The tone of his voice was as odd as the look he gave his friend. The blue eyes opened wide as if in innocent surprise but his grin twisted up his face revealing a single dimpled cheek. “Right,” Mark said. “Sarah, why don’t you lie down. Tarris and I will have a little talk while you rest.”

“Mark it’s okay, My head will be fine.”

Tarris looked at her intently and gestured toward the bed. She didn’t need Mark to interpret. He too thought she should lie down.

“I can’t just take a nap,” she reasoned with them. “In the middle of your family’s party.”

“Sarah this “party” will go on for hours. No one will notice. Lie down, my love and rest.”

I don’t…” She was halted by Tarris coming toward her quickly. He reached out and touched her hand. The world swayed and she found herself being swept up into two strong arms. The scent of his skin swirled in her head. He smelt overwhelmingly masculine. An indistinct combination of sandalwood, odd spices, a burning fire and the musky smell of a man’s neck as a woman curled her face into it in the afterglow of hot, passionate sex.

“Show off,” Mark snorted from where he’d already taken a seat in one of the chairs. “It’s probably the heat of the room, Sarah. Tarzan here thinks it should feel like Miami in August. Thankfully it’s winter or he’d be wearing even less.” Tarris smiled down at her gently and shook his head. His expression was playful and said clearly that Mark was positively silly and was not to be believed. He laid her carefully on the bed and slipped off her shoes before pulling a soft blanket from the foot of the bed over her. A charming curve to his lips, he reached out to brush a strand of hair from her forehead. His touch corresponded inexplicably with the thickening of the fogginess in her brain and her eyes felt heavy.

“Sweet dreams, Sarah-mine,” Mark’s voice sounded far away as she drifted off to sleep.

(Sorry, I don't know who the guys are used for Tarris. Just pretties.)

The Eyes Have It.

2008-02-11T17:03:00.001-08:00

Eternally Yours Contest

What could you spend an eternity doing? What is your passion? Your hunger? Your deepest desire?

Each day beginning February 5 and running through February 14 one of the ten authors will complete the line, "My darling I could spend eternity…" on either their blog or website. Collect all ten answers and e-mail them to anny@annycook.com with Eternally Yours in the subject line to win some hot, romantic books. There will be three lucky Valentine winners.

The prizes –
1st prize--5 books
2nd prize--3 books
3rd prize--2 books

Entries must be in by February 16 at midnight EST. All books and prize winners will be drawn randomly.

Sandra Cox Silverhills
Mona Risk To Love a Hero
Brynn Paulin Tribute For the Goddess
Bronwyn Green Mystic Circle
Cindy Spencer Pape Stone and Earth
N.J. Walters Seduction of Shamus O’Rourke
Elyssa Edwards Mating Stone
Amarinda Jones Shades of Gray
Kelly Kirch Time for Love
Anny Cook Honeysuckle

Today's Meandering Thoughts:

Whenever they do one of those romance/sex surveys men and women often say the first thing they notice about someone is their eyes. I don't necessarily buy that it's the first thing that people notice, but I do believe it's in the top 5, maybe even the top 3. Eyes are important.

We communicate so much with our eyes that we don't say with our words. Mothers can usually see in a child's eyes when they are sick, worrried, afraid or even lying. Eyes are a crucial part of smiling. The broadest display of teeth and curled lips in the world falls flat if the smile doesn't reach the eyes.

And with the one you love, eyes are such important ways of communicating. A look from a lover can tell you they need a bit of coddling, it can tell you they are ready to share a laugh, it can tell you they want more for desert than the chocolate cake you just served up. The best moment of all is when a lover looks deep into your eyes and says:

"My darling I could spend eternity lost in your eyes."

Tonight's Guy:

Tonight's hero is special. Not only because he was able to see beyond what the world saw but because in writing him (which means living for several months with him wandering around my brain) I fell in love with him. I adore all my guys, but James is the one who stole my heart.

James Edwards
Human
Occupation: Surgical Nurse/sometime musician
Age:35
Story: Access Denied by Jacqueline Roth from Cerridwen Press

James is not a happy person. One of a select few human beings chosen to survive a planetary disaster that wiped out all life on the Earth's surface. When the selection process began he tried to put the tragedy that scarred his soul behind him and begin again. Only once he finds himself inside Sanctuary, that new life falls apart. Now more angry and hurt than ever before, James is withdrawn from the world around him. His rage and pain eat away a little more every day, but to James' thinking it's not killing him fast enough.

Trapped in Sanctuary's family planning program which seeks to pair up single residents to form strong family units, James is forced to spend consecutive three month trial periods with women the Committee choses for him. And he's seriously pissed off. But inside this caustic and rude exterior is a man who has a keen love of family. When he gives himself to someone, it is all of himself. Without reservation.

Excerpt from Access Denied:

He knew she had left the room. He couldn’t feel her there anymore and the soft smell of her was fading. He ran his hand through his hair and a low groaning growl emerged from his throat. He should come with a warning label. There should be a stamp on his forehead warning everyone that if they tried to be kind to him, got anywhere near him, he was bound to screw up and hurt them. Or get them killed.

What had he just done? How had he let that happen? One minute he’s holding a picture of his dead wife and weeping for her like a lost child and the next he’s holding Leah and wanting nothing more than to hear her whisper that she wanted him. That she cared for him. That she didn’t hate him for what he had done. For the way he had failed at everything that mattered in his life.

But that was it, wasn’t it. He failed at everything and even sweet Leah couldn’t change that fact. He couldn’t even manage to be her friend without doing something stupid to ruin it. He dropped onto the edge of his bed and buried his face in his hands, elbows resting on his knees. A sick feeling of premonition swept through him. He had seven weeks left with her. She was trapped with him for seven more weeks. That was plenty of time for him to manage to completely ruin any chance she’d even want to remember his name once this was over. No, by the time he was done screwing up, even Leah would bolt and run without a backward glance.

James stood up and flipped the light off. He pulled off his shirt and pants and dropped them in the laundry chute. They would be back in forty-eight hours, delivered while he was still at work. He took a pair of pajama bottoms from the drawer and pulled them on, tightening the drawstring waist. No fancy closures here, just simple comfort and a barcode label sewn into them identifying the owner. He’d not bothered with clothes for bed before Leah but had decided before she even arrived he didn’t want to forget and find himself nude and meeting her coming back from the kitchen in the middle of the night.

He stretched out on the bed and pulled the blanket up over one shoulder as he faced the wall. Tomorrow was going to turn out to be a damned difficult and uncomfortable day. Not only did he have to face Leah again but tomorrow night he would be up to his ears in her friends at a noisy club, celebrating her birthday. And after tonight’s performance, he was fairly certain he was going to be the last person she wanted to celebrate with.

He had kissed her and she had fled. If he had ever doubted the sincerity with which she had addressed him those first days, he doubted no more. She didn’t want him. That’s fine, he heard the part of him he was learning to hate scoff. Come on, you don’t want her anyway. How many times have you told her that? This is Leah. Fine, she’s nice and all but damn, you can do better.

James lay there staring at wall letting the thought turn over in his mind. “No,” he finally whispered quietly to the empty room, “but she can.” The light brown eyes closed and when he eventually did drift off to sleep, the last thought that occupied his mind was the way she had felt pressed to him. He had never imagined her body would feel the way it did against him. Nor had he ever imagined the reaction it tore from his. That body, his reaction and a pair of green eyes followed him into his dreams.

(Gerard Butler is standing in for James not because I saw him in the part when I was originally writing this, but because that lovely voice of his and his scruffy appearance just seemed right in retrospect. Sorry no bare chested shots, but there don't seem to be any of this guy that aren't the screaming 300 mode.)

Seeing Double

2008-02-10T12:19:00.000-08:00

First the Contest and it's a great one.

Wanna Win Free Books?

Eternally Yours Contest

What could you spend an eternity doing? What is your passion? Your hunger? Your deepest desire?

Each day beginning February 5 and running through February 14 one of the ten authors will complete the line, "My darling I could spend eternity…" on either their blog or website. Collect all ten answers and e-mail them to anny@annycook.com with Eternally Yours in the subject line to win some hot, romantic books. There will be three lucky Valentine winners.

The prizes –

1st prize--5 books
2nd prize--3 books
3rd prize--2 books

Entries must be in by February 16 at midnight EST. All books and prize winners will be drawn randomly.

Participating Authors:

Sandra Cox Silverhills
Mona Risk To Love a Hero
Brynn Paulin Tribute For the Goddess
Bronwyn Green Mystic Circle
Cindy Spencer Pape Stone and Earth
N.J. Walters Seduction of Shamus O’Rourke
Elyssa Edwards Mating Stone
Amarinda Jones Shades of Gray
Kelly Kirch Time for Love
Anny Cook Honeysuckle

Tonight's Guy:

Luke Ursine
Were
Occupation: Has a degree in architecture, but spends his time rehabbing old homes.
Age: 154 (looks 28-29)
Story: Appears first in Mating Stone by Elyssa Edwards from Ellora’s Cave. His own story is told in Lovers’ Stone to be released in July ’08.

His own brother refers to him as Lucas “screw the whole world and everyone in it” Ursine. And for a good many years that’s been the side of him the world, especially his twin brother Mark and his clan, have seen. The breach between the twins goes back decades and is wrapped inextricably around a family tragedy that claimed the lives of the two people who meant the most to them both. Luke can’t forgive Mark for his part in what happened, but he has never forgiven himself either.

Intelligent and wicked, Luke delights in rubbing people the wrong way. The only person left in his world he’ll listen to is his aging human grandmother, Giselle. He still does exactly what he wants, but he’d do almost anything to keep from upsetting her. Anything but let Mark challenge their grandfather for power. Anything but let Mark ascend to the role of Amar of the clan. Not even his respect for Giselle will stop him if Mark tries to take power.

Excerpt from Mating Stone:

Her heart was fluttering and she willed her overly vivid imagination to stop before it got carried away imagining all sorts of bizarre scenarios. “What is going on here? Why did you lock that door?”

The brown eyes rolled and he gave an amused snort. “Woman believe me, this is where you want to be right now.”

“Why? What’s happening out there?”

Luke closed his eyes, boredom pouring from him. “Don’t play stupid with me. You know what’s happening.”

“I’m sorry but I don’t,” the fear was growing and starting to fuel a flame of anger. “What is Mark doing and why do I need you to protect me?” Her heart was pounding so hard she could hear it thud, especially when her own ears heard just how frightened she sounded.

One eye opened and looked at her. Luke sat up, swinging his long legs back to the floor and stared at her as if she had a puzzle written across her face. “It’s not possible,” he muttered softly. “Mark isn’t this stupid.”

“What are you talking about?” she demanded.

Luke stood and began to pace the room. He paused, “She’s wearing the pendant. He has to have told her. He wouldn’t hide this from his mate.” Luke shook his head slowly, “Would he?” he seemed to be talking to himself so she stood silently watching him as he began to pace again. After several minutes he stopped at the far end of the room and turned to look straight at her. Faster than she had ever seen anyone move, he closed the distance between them, grasped her left hand and turned it palm up. The oath he uttered was loud and coarse.

She tried to control the tremble of fear that was making her knees weak and shaky. She bit down to keep her lip from quivering noticeably. Luke stared into her eyes for a long moment. “You really don’t know what’s happening, do you?” The awe in his voice gave way to a flash of fury as he thrust her hand away and dropped back down onto the sofa. “By all that’s holy, you really don’t know.” Sarah watched him shake his head. “Oh my brother, you’re not only a fool, you’re an unmitigated ass to boot.”

“Mark isn’t a fool or an ass.”

She was rewarded by a derisive snort of angry mirth. “Little Sarah you have no idea who or what my brother is or you’d already have run away screaming.”

The remark made no sense and she decided he was trying to confuse and frighten her. “So now that we’ve decided I don’t know, would you please answer my question? What is happening out there? What is Mark doing?”

The anger seemed to vanish as if he squelched it deliberately. The lazy smile was back.
“What’s he doing out there? Being the noble, idiotic, idealistic fool he has always been.”
Sarah felt her jaw clench. He was the most infuriating man. He was deliberately wicked and argumentative not to mention he seemed to have mood swings that made any woman’s PMS seem tame. No wonder Mark disliked him. He shook his head in disbelief at his own thoughts and muttered so softly she almost missed the words, “Giving it up and he hasn’t even mated to her, hasn’t told her…”

He wanted to be difficult, she could be difficult to. She’d keep at it until he answered. “All I’m asking for is a straight answer. There’s something you think I should know but don’t. What don’t I know?”

“More than you can imagine.” Sarah gave a high pitched grunt of frustration. A soft chuckle escaped the man’s throat and he held his hands up in concession. “Okay, little Sarah, you win. I’m going to answer your questions but don’t blame me if you don’t like what you hear…”

(Christian Bale is also used for Luke, since he and Mark are twins, in honor of my friend Llew who thinks he makes a perfect Luke.)

Contest!

2008-02-09T15:50:00.000-08:00

Mating Stone release day!

2008-02-08T15:29:00.000-08:00

The day is finally here. My first book for Ellora's Cave is now available. Mating Stone is part of the Jewels of the Nile series and as a February release should, focuses around an amethyst.

Sarah has found the perfect man and best of all, he loves her deeply. Before introducing her to his family he proposes and presents her with an amethyst pendant, a stone she doesn't realize is more than symbolic. When his brother reveals Mark's secret, Sarah must decide if she loves him enough to accept him even if he's not exactly human. And Mark must decide how far he'll go, how much he'll give up to claim Sarah as his mate. Is he willing to abandon his birthright? Is he willing to kill his own brother to keep it and Sarah?

This story is the first in a series of stories that follow the men introduced within its pages. Mark Ursine, eldest and the heir apparent. Luke Ursine, younger brother and twin to Mark. Past tragedies have turned sibling rivalry into hate but standing between the two Weres is Tarris. An orphaned incubus, he was taken in by their father and raised among the shape shifters. Only he seems to be able to bridge the gap between them, or at least prevent all out war.

Tonight's Guy:

Mark Ursine
Were
Profession: That's a long story.
Age: 154 (looks about 28-29)
Story: Mating Stone by Elyssa Edwards from Ellora's Cave.

Mark is part of a race of shape shifters that found their way to our world before humans had mastered the use of fire. Respectful of the sentient creatures they believed had great potential, the shifters kept to themselves so as not to intefere with their evolution. When disaster collapsed the energy source that allowed them to remain in phase with our world, they tied their spirits to those of animals so that they could survive and remain. Mark is decended from a group that chose to unite with the bear. They do not choose which species of bear they become, that is determined by birth and largely influenced by family bloodlines.

Mark becomes the great brown bear, also known as the Kodiak. When tragedy, his guilt and his brother's blame drove him to distance himself from his family, he didn't realize his time in the human world would introduce him to the one person above all that he could love with his heart and soul. As the oldest it is he who must replace his grandfather as Amar, the leader of their clan. But will his brother Luke allow him to succeed without a challenge? Will his people accept his choice of mate? And once Sarah finds out what he is, will she still want him?

Excerpt:

God she’d missed him.

Mark rose from between her thighs licking his lips wickedly and smiling in a very smug, self-satisfied way. And with damn good reason. He kissed her and helped her slip down off the sideboard before holding her against his chest. “So passionate, my love.”

Passionate was not a word anyone had used to describe Sarah in the past. But with Mark it was true and even she knew it. She moved her hand down to stroke him. He was hard and ready for her and she was shocked when he grabbed her hand and stilled her movements.

“My family will be waiting,” he said softly. This was the second reason for splurging on the green dress. Tonight she’d meet Mark’s family. She had to admit this was moving very fast yet it seemed right. So exactly right. He kissed her again and smiled into her face. “After tonight, we will have all the time in the world.”

She readjusted the bodice of her dress as he lifted her panties from the floor and knelt. He held them out for her as she stepped back into them. He kissed her again as he slid the fabric almost reluctantly back up over her hips. She tried to smooth down the skirt of her dress, just certain it was wrinkled beyond help.

He caught her chin and tilted her head up. “You look beautiful. But before we go, there is something I want to give you,” Mark smoothed his hands over her hair and tucked the wayward strand behind an ear. Sarah couldn’t help but smile. He stepped back slightly and closed the last buttons on his shirt and quickly tied his tie. He brushed at his jacket and drew in a deep breath. Looking even more incredible than before, he reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a large, flat, dark blue box. Sarah’s eyes widened. Mark was always giving her little things, whether they’d been apart minutes, hours or not at all but that was a jeweler’s box and it looked more than a bit expensive.

He put the box in her hands and gestured for her to open it. When she did, her jaw dropped. Lying on a bed of black velvet was a large amethyst. The stone was simply set and hung from a delicate box chain. She looked up at Mark. “Mark, this is…”

He cut her off. “A gift, Sarah.” Something about his voice was thick and odd. “It is something I want you to have, something I hope you will accept,” his eyes gazed deep into hers. “Darling, my family…our traditions are different from most. A lot about us is different from what you’re used to. We don’t give rings, my love. When a man in my family asks a woman to join her life to his, he gives her a stone like this, her birthstone. And this stone,” he drew in a deep breath, “this is my promise to you. My pledge, Sarah-mine.”

“Mark, are you saying… Are you asking…” she couldn’t finish the sentence. Was he asking her to marry him?

“It can’t be a surprise to you that I love you, Sarah. I know that you feel strongly for me. I can see it in your eyes when you look at me, feel it in your touch. I want you to be mine, to be my wife, my partner, my mate. I want you by my side, my love. This is what I had to go away to do, I had to find the stone and have it set for you.” He caressed her cheek softly.

“This is so fast,” she murmured. She wanted to scream yes with all that was in her but it was so fast. And Sarah never did anything fast. Her whole life had been about slow and easy. The word impulsive just wasn’t in her vocabulary. Not until she’d met Mark.

[...]

“Sarah, I know this is fast for you. I know that you… Sarah for me this is much simpler. I know exactly what I want and I know it will never change. But I want you to be sure. I don’t want you to answer me yet. It’s not fair to ask you to make up your mind when you haven’t even met my family. I only want you to think about it and I wanted to give you this so there is no question in your mind or anyone else’s where we stand. I want you and my family to know I am yours and you are mine. No gray areas.”

She looked up at him. She loved him. She really did love him and for some stupid reason, not a part of her believed he didn’t love her. She wanted to marry him. She wanted to raise a family with him, grow old with him. She wanted every silly romantic cliché and she wanted it with Mark. She swallowed hard before speaking. “But doesn’t my not answering you leave a lot of gray area?”

“You’ve answered.” He kissed her softly on the lips and then on the forehead. “With your eyes, Sarah-mine you’ve answered.” He smiled down at her. “But I want to give you the option to change your mind once you’ve seen the true level of insanity that spawned me.”

“Everyone thinks their family is weird, Mark,” she reassured him.

“Mine isn’t weird, Sarah. They’re… well, you’ll see.”

(Christian Bale is being used for Mark in honor of my friend and constant supporter Llew. He's not exactly my Mark, but pretty damned close.)

It's contest time!

Eternally Yours Contest

What could you spend an eternity doing? What is your passion? Your hunger? Your deepest desire?

Each day beginning February 5 and running through February 14 one of the ten authors will complete the line, "My darling I could spend eternity…" on either their blog or website. Collect all ten answers and e-mail them to anny@annycook.com with Eternally Yours in the subject line to win some hot, romantic books. There will be three lucky Valentine winners.

The prizes –

1st prize--5 books
2nd prize--3 books
3rd prize--2 books

Entries must be in by February 16 at midnight EST. All books and prize winners will be drawn randomly.

So, who has it today? Sorry, not me. Keep looking.

Sandra Cox Silverhills
Mona Risk To Love a Hero
Brynn Paulin Tribute For the Goddess
Bronwyn Green Mystic Circle
Cindy Spencer Pape Stone and Earth
N.J. Walters Seduction of Shamus O’Rourke
Elyssa Edwards Mating Stone
Amarinda Jones Shades of Gray
Kelly Kirch Time for Love
Anny Cook Honeysuckle

And finally, I have to take a moment to do a little girl squeeee. I'm attending a writing workshop this weekend. This post is being made by courtesy of in room Wi-Fi.

See I grew up without money. We had a lot of times we went without food, running water, electricity, heat and clothes. It sucked. Today when I checked into my hotel room it was the most amazing thing. This is a moderate scale hotel. It's a Hilton. All I can say is when I saw the clean room, big bed, cool furnishings, etc. I felt like I was a little girl. All I could do for several minutes was walk around grinning and saying, "Cool."

Nerd moment over...or at least the part I'm sharing is.

Migraine

2008-02-07T18:00:00.000-08:00

No. Really. Sucks. Hurts. No Blog. Going to crawl back into dark hole. Scroll down and read about contest.

Mating Stone releases tomorrow. Blog hunk tomorrow will be star of said Mating Stone, the sweet and sexy Mark Ursine. www.ellorascave.com

Very, very sorry.

Him

2008-02-06T16:16:00.000-08:00

Contest First!

Eternally Yours Contest

What could you spend an eternity doing? What is your passion? Your hunger? Your deepest desire? Each day beginning February 5 and running through February 14 one of the ten authors will complete the line, "My darling I could spend eternity…" on either their blog or website. Collect all ten answers and e-mail them to anny@annycook.com with Eternally Yours in the subject line to win some hot, romantic books. There will be three lucky Valentine winners.

The prizes –
1st prize--5 books
2nd prize--3 books
3rd prize--2 books

Entries must be in by February 16 at midnight EST. All books and prize winners will be drawn randomly.

Sandra Cox Silverhills
Mona Risk To Love a Hero
Brynn Paulin Tribute For the Goddess
Bronwyn Green Mystic Circle
Cindy Spencer Pape Stone and Earth
N.J. Walters Seduction of Shamus O’Rourke
Elyssa Edwards Mating Stone
Amarinda Jones Shades of Gray
Kelly Kirch Time for Love
Anny Cook Honeysuckle

Now, back to my guys.
Up next?

Him (or whatever you want it to be)
Human
Profession: Actor
Age: (as old as you want him to be)
Story: Seeing Me by Elyssa Edwards from Ellora's Cave

Yep, that’s right, Him. No, that isn’t his name, but that’s all you get as you read this story.

He is an actor. He has paid his dues and now makes the big bucks and rakes in the offers since he started playing the lead in a series of films based on the books of a famous scifi/fantasy writer. The blockbuster films have made the writer, the studios and everyone else a great deal of money. And he’s not doing too badly himself. His face and the luscious body it tops are used to sell. Sell tickets. Sell books. Sell whatever anyone wants to sell. But he’s not pretty Ken doll. He has a mind, a soul and a heart just like any other man. Only sometimes the world forgets and he doesn’t fight them on it.

Now he’s been booked by his studio to appear at a conference. The largest scifi/fantasy conference in the Southern United States. It’s all a part of the biz. As long as they pay the room, the speaking fee, the limo and the plane ticket, he’s fine with it. Until it starts. The same sanctimonious shit he’s used to hearing again and again from self righteous writers who think they are writing the classic tomes of the future. They denounce the “Hollywood Machine” and staunchly declare they’d never sell out. And as usual, he sits there with his frozen smile until a lovely young woman at the end of the table suddenly blurts out:

“Are you crazy? You’d sell your left testicle if someone wanted to make a movie from one of your books with that kind of budget.”

And when he finds out who she is, this conference takes on a whole new importance.

Excerpt:

[Cara] shook her head, “It’s an honor to be asked to meet you, it was an honor to be on the panel with you. But…” Her words fled her again. You’re a writer for Chrissakes, get a hold of yourself. You are supposed to be a wordsmith, you make your living with words.

“But?” When she didn’t continue his smile broadened encouragingly, “Come on over and sit down. Let me take your bag.” He moved toward her quickly, then stopped and reached hesitantly for the large canvas bag she carried. She pulled it from her shoulders and he took it from her hands. He smiled down at her almost shyly and moved away to place it on a nearby chair. “Please, won’t you sit?” He backed away and sat down on the edge of the large overstuffed white sofa. “Is it Ms. Ellison, or may I call you C.J.?”

“Cara actually,” she had no idea where the answer came from as it sounded in her own voice. “My agent suggested my initials so it wasn’t mistaken for a girlie book.”

She saw him roll his eyes, “Agents, can’t live with them, can’t do business without them.” His gaze shifted quickly back to her and he suddenly seemed to be examining her face intently. “Cara,” he rolled the word off his tongue as if he were tasting it. “It’s Italian, but you don’t look Italian.”

“I’m not.”

“It means expensive,” he grinned at her, “did you know?”

“No,” she looked up at him puzzled. “I thought it meant darling or something like that.”

“No. It’s often used that way,” his eyes seemed to almost sparkle with mischief, “but it means expensive, like a fine bottle of wine. Something to be treated gently, reverently.” He paused and she felt his gaze move over her, “Something to be savored.” He patted the seat next to him. “I promise I don’t bite.” The wicked grin on his face spoke the words his lips didn’t. Unless you want me to.

As she walked toward him she tried not to notice him. Well not so much not notice him, as not notice how he looked. The white shirt had been traded for a black one and the heat rising in her face betrayed the fact that she noticed he hadn’t buttoned it. It was tucked in and only the first button or two above his waistband was closed. A healthy expanse of golden skin, nicely detailed pectoral muscles and a hint of the washboard abs he was famous for were visible. He must have followed her eyes because he began to apologize.

“I’m sorry, it was hot in the ballroom earlier and so I changed shirts, and,” she watched the side of his face as he bent his head forward and started fastening a few more of the buttons. He’s blushing! She realized in amazement. His face was filling with color. She further realized he was stammering a bit. She had embarrassed him. Great, just great. He caught you looking at his chest now he thinks you’re as big a freak as some of those women out there holding signs offering to have his baby. Yet again he had proven himself right, things could get worse.

His hands stilled and he turned his head to look at her. It was still bent and his dark hair was falling in his face, he smiled as if testing to see if she would smile back. She did. The smile widened and his head rose. “Speaking of hot, it suddenly seems a bit warm in here, too. Can I get you something cool?” He stood and moved toward the wet bar at one end of the room. “I did a stint as a bartender, believe it or not, I can make you anything you like.” The mischievous grin swept up over his face lighting up his eyes.

“Really,” she drew the word out to show her mock skepticism. She was quite certain almost anything he wanted to make her she was definitely going to like and like a lot. “Anything I’d like?”

“Yes ma’am, anything you like,” his voice had dropped slightly and his eyes were no longer smiling. The temperature in the room seemed to shoot up several degrees. Or was it just the heat he seemed to be very adept in stirring inside of her?

“White wine is fine,” she turned her head away from him. Breathe. For God’s sake don’t forget to breathe. One thing was certain; she still had no idea why she was here. The look and the innuendo, no those were just games he played, tools of the trade she told herself. He was an actor. His life was about convincing you to like him, to feel comfortable and intimate with him. That he could do it so easily is what made him so good. That he was so damned good at it is what had him infiltrating the dreams of a good number of women in this world.

He returned to where she sat. She took the glass by its thin stem without looking up at him. Instead she looked at the long fingers that held the bowl of the glass, cupping it. Fingers that slid along its surface as she took hold, fingertips dragging through the already building condensation as if they didn’t want to surrender it to her. Her heart rate had jumped and he had said nothing to her, done nothing to her. Again she began to regret her choice of undergarments. The thin lacy bra she’d chosen that morning was definitely making things a lot worse. She didn’t dare look down, guessing was bad enough, she didn’t want to know just how obvious certain things were at the moment.

He didn’t sit immediately but sat his own glass, scotch of some sort she guessed, down on the end table. Maybe she should have opted for something harder than white wine, perhaps the burn of whiskey would have settled her nerves. Or come right back up, she thought ruefully. That was one indignity she definitely didn’t need. He excused himself and went through a side door. He returned before she even had a moment to register his absence. He carried something in his hand. It was a book. It was her book.

He sat down next to her and lifted his glass. He took a swallow of the contents then leaned back. “I asked you up here because I wanted to ask you to sign your book for me.”

“You’ve really read my book?” The words and the accompanying incredulity landed between them with an almost audible thud.

He frowned. “Yes. Didn’t my assistant tell you that you were being asked up to sign your book?”

“Yes, but...”

“But you didn’t figure someone like me had read it.”

“No. I never dreamed someone like you would have read it,” she admitted. She was pulling a large sip from her own glass when he stood up and walked away toward the windows.

“I see. You’re surprised that someone like me would even attempt to read such a work. I might muddle through a script alright, but real books are something else.”

She stared at him in shock. “I didn’t say that. That’s not what I meant.”

“Right.” He turned to face her, the orange rays of the sun backlighting him, a golden corona forming about him. His face was blank, a calm practiced look of boredom, but his eyes seemed to be alight with something more. His voice, when he spoke again, betrayed the bitter edge of anger. “It’s fine. I’ve heard it before. Actors are just parrots, right? They look pretty and showy and repeat whatever lines they are taught but understanding those lines is beyond them. We’re just a bunch of ridiculous boys and plasticized bimbos who drink too much, party too much and make way too much money for standing around playing pretend like a bunch of preschoolers. Look, I’m sorry I got you out of your reception.”

“Wait a minute,” she stood up. “That isn’t what I meant and I certainly never said those things. It seems to me that if anyone is jumping to stereotypes here, it’s you. I’m a writer so I must be self-important and egotistical? I must be absolutely certain that every word that falls from my pen is pure genius? Someone’s ego is involved here but I don’t think it’s mine.”

He just looked at her, his brow creasing, slight confusion etched on his face. The hurt was still in those dark eyes, and it was as if he wasn’t entirely sure he was really hearing the words she was saying.

“Look when I said I didn’t expect someone like you to have read my book I meant I didn’t expect it would even be noticed by someone like you. It’s an obscure piece of drivel by an unknown author who only got invited today because she’s a local girl. Hell, if I hadn’t been a volunteer for this convention for the last few years no one here would have given me the time of day.” She wanted him to believe her. Wanted it badly. For some reason it mattered a great deal that he believe she hadn’t been demeaning his intelligence. “I can’t believe any of those people today actually took time out of their lives to read my book, let alone someone like you who has people pulling him in a hundred directions every minute of the day.”

He pursed his lips and his head dropped. Silence filled the room for a long moment as he stared down at the floor. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m a bit raw from that confrontation downstairs. You might be surprised how often I get that. Not just what that guy said, but the whole thing. I was a marketing tool today. A new and improved product. Bright and shiny, tell your friends. I was being used to sell this conference, to sell the books of every person on that panel. When you first start out it’s sort of cool, look at me and the power my face has. But after a while it gets old.” He lifted wary eyes to hers. “I’m sorry. I made assumptions that were incorrect.”

She simply nodded. The truth in what he was saying was overwhelming. He was right. Every person there today had treated him like the leggy, breasty bimbo who points to the new model of car and says, “Pretty.” Her included. All she had seen was Him. Her first thoughts, if she were honest with herself, had been about the exposure and the attendance this panel was likely to get. Okay, not really. That was her second thought. Her first thought had been that of a giggling fourteen-year-old teenager who was just told she was going to meet her idol. The great movie star whose presence seemed to turn something inside her to jelly. No, not jelly, lava. Red-hot, cascading, chocolate flavored, lava. Sudden thoughts of the possible uses for warm liquid chocolate filled her mind along with the image of herself lapping up said chocolate. Her face, and everything else, grew even warmer.

Meet My Guys

2008-02-05T18:00:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I participated in a chat loop to kick off the Valentine’s contest. While chatting I was posting excerpts from some of my books, and enjoyed telling folks on the loop to my guys. So I thought I’d spend a few days indulging my multiple personalities and introducing people to my guys. Whether their stories are credited to Jae or Elyssa, they’re my boys.

I’ve said before that my stories are often driven by the male characters. No, not often, always. They are the ones who pop into my mind first, they tell me their stories and introduce me to the people in their lives. They whisper in my hear, argue with me, pout, fuss and sulk when I don’t get it right or don’t write for them that day and they open up their souls to my inspection. My men may not be corporeal, but each one of them is special.

Alejandro Ramirez
Half Human/Half Were-Cougar
Age: 51 (looks about 28)

Alejandro is the son of a She-Cougar and a human man. Though not the only kitten in his litter, he was the only one with human blood. When he experienced his first transformation, as is the way of the Cougars, his mother sent him out with nothing but a few dollars in his pocket and his human father’s driver’s license. A souvenir of their tryst.

Taken in by his human family, Alejandro finds a life that his human half craves, but his Cougar half can never fully accept. Male Cougars do not form families. They are solitary creatures who hunt, mate and defend their territory. When he finds himself responsible for a small Were child he has no choice but ask the Were world for help. They send him to a human. But Brie has secrets that could get them all killed.

As his human need for love and family war with his Cougar heritage, he finds that the family he really wants includes Brie and the child they are working together to heal.

Excerpt:

The man who sat in the corner booth this early afternoon was certainly no college boy. He also wasn’t one of the park staff. But he could easily have been one of the regulars. His tightly set jaw cut a clean, slightly squared line. The long hair was loose and reached his shoulders, a red bandana tied around his forehead to keep it out of his eyes. The mixture of medium brown and golden strands gave the hair the color of richly polished maple. He was a bit pretty for this neck of the woods but there was something dangerous and hard about him that warned everyone a harsh penalty would be extracted from anyone who pissed him off.

Henry continued to eye him warily until a familiar voice called out as its owner entered the door. “Hey old man, you still alive?” Henry scowled at the speaker and immediately opened a bottle.

“Haven’t you been eaten by a gator yet, asshole?” He slid the beer down the bar to where the new arrival stood grinning at him.

“Naw but keep prayin’. Between you and my ex-wife, maybe you’ll get lucky.” He picked up his bottle and stepped away from the bar.

“I’ve seen your ex-wife, Eddie-boy. Just hearing her, me and getting lucky in the same sentence is enough to make me swallow drain cleaner,” Henry snorted. Poor kid couldn’t be over thirty and he had one hell of bitch nipping at his heels.

Eddie grimaced, “Where were you with your sage advice before I said I do?”

“As I remember it, every male in the family tried to stop you and you threatened to kick the hell out of all of us,” the deep voice rumbled up from the booth in the corner.

Eddie pushed his black hair out of his eyes and his face grew serious, his voice hard. “This good-for-nothing giving you trouble, Henry?”

The bartender glanced between the two men. He’d never heard Eduardo Ramirez speak a harsh word to anyone. Even in the midst of a fight, Eddie’s smile was fixed on his face and he used his quick tongue to strike as many blows as his fists. The man stood up and Henry reached carefully for the handgun that sat beneath a stack of towels on the shelf under the bar. If this guy messed with one of his customers, he’d be sorry.

Eddie slowly approached the man who was two to three inches taller than he and much leaner. He looked like a seasoned predator, one made hard by the struggle to survive. The smaller man was broader but Henry’s experienced eye told him who would be the more deadly if trouble broke out and it wouldn’t be Eddie.

The two men stood, eyes locked and bodies held stiff. “You look like shit,” Eddie snorted reaching out and grabbing the other man into a quick embrace.

At the hard, two handed slap on the back a hint of a smile broke out on the tall man’s face, a faint curl of the lip that almost looked like a snarl. “Let go of me, cabron.” The man pulled away and sat back down.

Eddie laughed again and looked over at the older man whose tension was almost tangible. “It’s okay, Henry. Alejandro has been calling me a lot worse for years.” Eddie slid into the booth, “Still a friggin’ ray of sunshine aren’t you, hermano?”

Sunglasses lowered to reveal golden brown eyes only a shade darker than the man’s hair. “I’m sitting in a dive in the middle of the Everglades and you know how much I hate the Everglades,” he glanced up to see the bartender standing close enough to hear, while trying to seem as if he weren’t hanging on every word. Both of the old man’s hands were now visible above the bar. Alejandro breathed a sigh of relief. He’d known there was a weapon back there and he’d have hated to have had to hurt the old man had he decided to use it. He’d have hated it but he wouldn’t have hesitated, not if it meant protecting his brother or himself. He met Eddie’s eyes and held them intently. The dark chocolate eyes of the other man widened in surprise as the next words sounded in his mind and not his ears.

Not to mention it’s not even noon yet and I’m walking on two legs instead of four. The frown deepened. So this better be good, little boy.

Eddie shook himself breaking eye contact. He squirmed for a moment in his seat as if he’d gotten a sudden chill. “I hate when you do that, man.”

Alejandro slipped the glasses into the pocket of his leather jacket, glanced back up at the bar and jerked his head toward the back of the room. “Let’s go play pool.”

His brother looked at him surprised. “You hate playing pool. Come to think of it is there anything you don’t hate?”

“Your parents,” the deep voice said briskly as Alejandro stood and walked to the back of the room. He paused and looked back toward Eddie. So unless you want to discuss this important business in front of the old man, get back here.

Eddie followed and muttered as he stepped past him to pull a cue off the wall, “You do that because I hate it, don’t you.”

“Sometimes,” came the cryptic reply.

(Photos of Alej are courtesy of Antonio Banderas only he doesn't know it.)

Now How to Win Free Books!

Defending the Honor of the Modern Man

2008-02-03T10:30:00.000-08:00

Contest first, rant later...

Eternally Yours Contest

What could you spend an eternity doing? What is your passion? Your hunger? Your deepest desire? Each day beginning February 5 and running through February 14 one of the ten authors will complete the line, "My darling I could spend eternity…" on either their blog or website. Collect all ten answers and e-mail them to anny@annycook.com with Eternally Yours in the subject line to win some hot, romantic books. There will be three lucky Valentine winners.

The prizes –
1st prize--5 books
2nd prize--3 books
3rd prize--2 books

Entries must be in by February 16 at midnight EST. All books and prize winners will be drawn randomly.

Sandra Cox Silverhills
Mona Risk To Love a Hero
Brynn Paulin Tribute For the Goddess
Bronwyn Green Mystic Circle
Cindy Spencer Pape Stone and Earth
N.J. Walters Seduction of Shamus O’Rourke
Elyssa Edwards Mating Stone
Amarinda Jones Shades of Gray
Kelly Kirch Time for Love
Anny Cook Honeysuckle

Many of these authors will also be participating in a chat at Loves Romances Cafe on February 4th. If you haven't signed up do so now! LoveRomancesCafe-subscribe@yahoogroups.com

And now the ranting begins:

I find myself flabbergasted, disappointed and angry on behalf of the men in my life. While recently reading an erotic romance I ran across the following line:

“To men, physical love and emotional love are one and the same.”

This was the advice of a mother to a daughter when her daughter expressed her concerns that her mate had not told her he loved her and spoke of love only as an action verb. I had a visceral reaction to this comment.

I don’t say this to brag or to seem like an expert, but I’m usually spot on about guys. They seem so simple to me —not intellectually but in terms of understanding what they are thinking and saying. A friend of mine commented, after reading my novels, that my male characters are among the most realistic he’s seen and that he could identify with them even if it was a romance novel and not his usual fare. It seems I only fail in his esteem when it comes to relating the man’s thoughts during sex, which my friend says are generally very basic and not very romantic. I must admit this flaw is intentional, I'm writing for women readers as a rule.

Perhaps the writer meant that men express emotional love physically. They do. Men are very driven by the physical. Absolutely. And as women are no longer taught to fear and feel shame over their own sexuality, needs and desires, we are also becoming more rooted in the physical. Look at the skyrocketing rise of erotic romance. Such things were beyond comprehension fifty years ago. Men might sneak naughty magazines but women? Never. Look at the number of women who are openly engaged in extramarital sex, premarital sex or “no way in hell I’m marrying this dude, but let’s have some fun” sex.

Back to my point. Men are physical, and we as women understand that a great deal of how they express what they feel is done physically. Often the time men best know how to and feel comfortable expressing their love and affection for their partner is during sex or sex play. This does not mean that men don’t know the difference between physical lovemaking and emotional love. It does not mean that they are one in the same. To claim such cheapens all male/female, and especially male/male, relationships. It is this attitude that perpetuates the idea that gay male relationships are merely about the physical act of love, making it easy to marginalize their relationships and make their needs and feelings base, crude and unimportant.

It is insulting. It is insulting to men and to those who love them to say that the men’s emotional loving is the same as the physical. Can you honestly say you don’t know a man who doesn’t know the difference between a hard on and love? Look at the clichéd excuse for infidelity, “Honey, it didn’t mean anything. It was just sex.” Men understand the difference. They feel the difference. To claim otherwise demeans them.

It demeans the man who spends twenty-five years at the side of his wife. Raised to be a “man” he doesn’t show affection where anyone else can see. But when she dies from heart disease as he kneels by her bedside, the tears falling from his eyes don’t come because he is sorry he will miss her in his bed, but because his heart is breaking.

Challenged.

2008-01-31T15:42:00.000-08:00

Challenges. From time to time writers will issue challenges to each other to come up with stories that fit a certain frame work or include certain elements, sometimes just to entertain. One such challenge produced Mary Shelley's Frankenstein.

I've answered many challenges in the past few years, often taking the rules and twisting them into something I'm not sure the issuer ever intended. Elements get worked in, but sometimes not as intended. One such challenge was issued in the fanfiction world to create a "ship," a relationship story about two characters; the pairing of which made me squeamish. But I wrote it. Not with the "ship" as was intended, but turning it into a story of respect and mutual admiration.

My upcoming Ellora's Cave release also began as a challenge. My friends and I would issue monthly challenges to one another. One of those challenges resulted in Measure of Healing, the current Cerridwen Press release by Jacqueline Roth. (The current challenge is to write a faerie story, or story about the reawakening of the earth in Spring.) One February the challenge was issued to write a story that included an amethyst, a kiss, a Mardi Gras mask and a ground hog. That story became Mating Stone.

It started out to be a joke. I was going to write a torrid romantic Were story where in the end the shifter turned into something less than impressive. Something cute and cuddly. A nice joke, eh?

Let's just say my hero was not impressed with my humor. Mark Ursine, said Were, began to take shape in my mind and the story he was trying to tell me progressed until I knew I couldn't take the funny out. This was a serious tale of love, betrayal and the kind of hate that can only form between two people who have one of the closest of all bonds, the bond of brotherhood. Twins. Besides, Mark has a real determined way of getting exactly what he wants.

So Mating Stone turned into an erotic romance. Mark showed me the error of my ways and revealed himself not as some cute cuddly little fellow, but as a powerful and fierce Bear. It's hard to argue with someone who is several hundred pounds bigger than you and has large claws and fangs.

Excerpt:

The night they met had been her birthday. She’d let her sister and some friends talk her into going to a club to celebrate. “Come on Sarah, it’s February 2. It’s your twenty-eighth birthday, so do what all good little groundhogs do and get out. Even if you see your shadow, at least you had fun before you run back and hibernate some more,” her sister had teased until she’d agreed.

She’d not met Mark at the club but afterwards on her way home. Hitting a pothole had blown her tire and while she could change a tire herself—hell, like any good ol’ Minnesota girl she could change a tire, put on her own snow chains and knew how to use the jumper cables in her trunk—she just didn’t relish doing it in the short skirt her sister had talked her into wearing.

Resigning herself to ruining her stockings and probably the new skirt, she’d been hauling the jack and donut from the trunk when a motorcycle had roared up behind her. The headlight had almost blinded her but not as much as what stepped out into the light. Pulling a black helmet from his head the man had been devastating. His black jeans and leather jacket completed a monochromatic feast for the eyes.

Flashing her a smile almost as bright as his headlight he’d insisted he couldn’t let a lady like her change the tire. He’d made short work of the flat even if she did stand there like an idiot and chatter way. By the time he was done he knew it was her birthday and where she’d been. If it had taken any longer she’d hated to think what else would have come bubbling out of her mouth.

He packed her jack back into her trunk and asked her allow him to follow her home since he didn’t have much confidence in the small rubber tire. When she’d hesitated he’d pulled out his driver’s license and a credit card. He put them in her hands. “Hold on to these. If you get spooked at all you know who I am, where I live and can either call the police or charge a fortune for yourself in compensation.”

When they’d arrived at her place she handed them over and smiled nervously. “Thank you just doesn’t seem like enough,” she nodded down to the damp patches on his knees where he’d knelt in the wet snow alongside the road.

“Then have dinner with me tomorrow,” he’d flashed an encouraging smile and she felt as if her bones melted. “That’s all the thanks I need.”

She agreed and had started to walk away when he called out to her. He was pulling something from the storage compartment under the seat and walked quickly up to her. His long legged strides held her so transfixed she didn’t see what he had in his hands. He stopped in front of her and hesitated. She looked up at him. He suddenly seemed shy and uncertain, grinning up at her through the hair that had fallen over his forehead.

“Happy Birthday, Sarah.” He placed a single red rose in her hand. His quick kiss to her cheek was so soft and so fast that she almost missed it.

By the time her fingers rose up to touch where he had pressed his lips to her skin, he was back on his bike, turning it and roaring away. Odd but only now did it occur to her to question where on earth he’d gotten the rose.

Eternally Yours Contest

What could you spend an eternity doing? What is your passion? Your hunger? Your deepest desire?

Each day beginning February 5 and running through February 14 one of the ten authors will complete the line,

"My darling I could spend eternity…"
on either their blog or website. Collect all ten answers and e-mail them to anny@annycook.com with Eternally Yours in the subject line to win some hot, romantic books. There will be three lucky Valentine winners.

The prizes –
1st prize--5 books

2nd prize--3 books

3rd prize--2 books

Entries must be in by February 16 at midnight EST. All books and prize winners will be drawn randomly.

Participating Authors:

Sandra Cox Silverhills
Mona Risk To Love a Hero
Brynn Paulin Tribute For the Goddess
Bronwyn Green Mystic Circle
Cindy Spencer Pape Stone and Earth
N.J. Walters Seduction of Shamus O’Rourke
Elyssa Edwards Mating Stone
Amarinda Jones Shades of Gray
Kelly Kirch Time for Love
Anny Cook Honeysuckle

Be sure to join this group of writers on Love Romances Cafe for a group chat on February 4th from 1pm-8pm. There will be excerpts, good conversation and a contest or two as well. If you have not signed up for this chat loop, it's at LoveRomancesCafe-subscribe@yahoogroups.com

2008-01-24T16:06:00.000-08:00

Eternally Yours Contest

What could you spend an eternity doing? What is your passion? Your hunger? Your deepest desire? Each day beginning February 5 and running through February 14 one of the ten authors will complete the line, "My darling I could spend eternity…" on either their blog or website. Collect all ten answers and e-mail them to anny@annycook.com with Eternally Yours in the subject line to win some hot, romantic books. There will be three lucky Valentine winners.

The prizes –
1st prize--5 books
2nd prize--3 books
3rd prize--2 books

Entries must be in by February 16 at midnight EST. All books and prize winners will be drawn randomly.

Elyssa Edwards -Mating Stone
Mona Risk -To Love a Hero
Brynn Paulin -Tribute for the Goddess
N.J. Walters -Seduction of Shamus O'Rourke
Amarinda Jones -Shades of Gray
Sandra Cox -Silverhills
Bronwyn Green -Mystic Circle
Cindy Spencer Pape -Stone and Earth
Anny Cook -Honeysuckle
Kelly Kirch -Time for Love

As a special treat these authors will be participating in a chat on February 4th from 1pm-8pm at Love Romances Cafe. Stop by and meet these wonderful writers.

Confession time! I am so jealous. When Anny sent me this list of prizes my response was to pout and say "But I wanna win these book!" This list has some of my favorites and some new authors I've been waiting to read. This list of newer releases should warm up even the last desperate howls of winter.

Six Random Things About Me.

2008-01-21T18:41:00.000-08:00

Okay my friends, I've been meme'd three times over. For those of you who don't know what this means, it means I've been "blog-tagged" and have to give out six random facts about myself. Well, you're only getting six, not 18 because...well...frankly, I'm not that interesting.

1. I love peaches. I will consume almost anything with this flavor. Tea most especially but certainly not excluding alcoholic drinks. Imagine my delight when I discovered a sparkling peach wine to celebrate at New Years. Yummm

2. I'm a nerd. Yep, I can nerd-out with the best of them. I get excited about diagramming sentences, Star Trek, Buffy the Vampire Slayer and even more embarrassing things which I refuse to reveal. I have multiple costumes not used for Halloween but for things like Cons and Ren Fests. (YeeHaw folks, an excuse to have picture of Spike two days running makes me a happy girl.)

3. I'm afraid of alligators. No, you don't understand, not just afraid--phobia afraid. My SO is from Florida and I hate going to visit the in-laws. Not because of the in-laws, but because this requires going to the land of the alligator. I tell you they are lined up at the Georgia/Florida border waiting to get me.

4. I know several children's books by heart. The SO is a Youth Services Librarian and I am often the practice dummy for story times. So certain phrases have been altered in our house. "I don't care," must be immediately followed by "said Pierre and so the lion ate him then and there." "Me too," must be followed by "said the chick." And the word "terrible," cannot be said in isolation but must be followed by "horrible, no good, very bad day. Mom says somedays are like that, even in Austrailia."

5. I have OCD and ADD so I HAVE to lose interest in what you're saying... (I so need someone to make that into a tshirt. I'd buy one for every day of the week.) I can loop on things until my darling one looks at me and asks if I've taken my medication. This OCD manifests itself most particularly in my books. I have books on my shelves and they are organized by author and then in chronological order of the series. If one of my books is out of order I must fix it. Right now. The SO will torment me at times by moving books on the shelf. If a book I haven't read yet is on the shelf of books I have read I must fix it. NOW!

6. I live in a zoo. We own four dogs, a cocker spaniel named Shiloh who is literally insane, a Brittany named George who thinks he can cook and subsequently almost burns down the house about once a week, a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel named Gracie Sue who is unaware that the breed standard says "not for rough play," and a miniature dachshund named Wendell who believes he is human. We have two birds, a blue parakeet named Pip and a green and yellow one named Green Bird. We have three neon tetras who do not have a name except for fishies and a snail my SO now has us all calling Snailie-po.

I have delayed in resonding to my meme'd stated because I cannot think of six people to tag in return. I do promise to do so, but that must come at a later time.

Answering the Age Old Question

2008-01-20T18:12:00.000-08:00

It has been a battle of taste that has raged for years with no clear winner. The question that has set friend against friend, sister against sister and mother against daughter:

Who's hotter, Angel or Spike?

The last week or so has been a Buffy the Vampire Slayer marathon. The library where my SO works recently got the entire 7 season collection on dvd. We've finished the first season and started the second. It is in this second season that the conundrumm to end all conundrums came to be. Which vampire is the hottest? Is it tortured, vampire with a soul, Angelus (Angel) or the cocky, funny, alpha male vampire William the Bloody (Spike)?

We're supposed to love Angel. He's a vampire with a horrendous past. He was one of the bloodiest and cruelest ever created. He killed his entire family. Hell, he created Spike. But he was given back his soul. Now, haunted by a conscience and in love with the little vampire slayer he has become a good guy...of sorts. We're supposed to love him because Buffy does.

We're supposed to hate Spike. His caustic wit, his merciless nature...I mean, he killed a little kid. Granted said little kid was only a kid in body and was actually the annointed one who was controlling the othe evil vampire, but hey, he was cute. And Spike torches him. Spike wants to kill Buffy. (We won't discuss the chip debaucle that marked the point at which Buffy jumped the shark.) We're supposed to root against him.

Sorry, can't do it. Yes, Angel is a cutie. Yes, he's a dark, brooding, tortured soul. But he's also a whining, whishy-washy pain in the arse and a borderline pedophile. He was what, 25 or so when Darla turned him? Buffy is 16! You spent an entire two seasons reminding us that there is a close to 250 year age difference. Icky factor- in a big way.

Spike doesn't want to kiss Buffy until she's at least legal. Spike is a decisive undead man who knows what he wants and does it. He's brutal and you know exactly where you stand with Spike. And he does have a softer side. Look how he watches after Dru. So sweet. And he's quite lovely. I've never been much for blonds, in fact I've always loved the dark, strong type. But give me my Spike any day!

Of course, a girl does have to keep an open mind.

The Were's are Here

2008-01-16T23:51:00.000-08:00

Mystery and variety are important elements in making a happy girl. One of life's little mysteries, my friends, is how yours truly manages to share a brain and writing world with another writer by the name of Jacqueline Roth. Don't ask, it has to do with symbiotic life forms, multiple personalities and the desire to avoid explaining Romantica to angry parents.

So if from time to time another mind seems to take over here, just go with the flow. It's easier than fighting it...or trying to make sense of it.

The upcoming Mating Stone and Lovers' Stone both reveal a world around us where shifters who have tied themselves to our world live along side us. This is the same world you will find introduced in the Cerridwen Press release Measure of Healing by Jacqueline Roth.

Release day for Measure of Healing is here!

I'm very excited and evidently so is Mother Nature. We've had our first trackable snow in Atlanta, GA in 4 years. Trackable snow means it's sufficient in amount on the ground that you could see a rabbit's tracks. What a great treat for this winter missing Northern girl! That or Mother Nature was trying to make our current setting look more like the mountains on the cover.

I think you're going to like Alejandro Ramirez. Alej is a tough-ass, motorcycle riding, works with his hands kinda guy. He also happens to only be half human. The other half is Were. Were-Cougar to be exact. Not usually the warm fuzzy family type, Alej finds his Cougar instincts constantly at war with his human side, especially the one cultivated by the loving human family that takes him in when his Cougar mother throws him out.

Dr. Gabriela St. Jerome is a strong-willed woman who doesn't want anything to do with Alej. It's not that she doesn't think he's a nice guy, he probably is. But he's exactly the kind of man who will get her dead. Very dead.

Add an injured child that one fiercely protects and that the other can heal and you force these two adults to deal with their fears, prejudices and passions.

Measure of Healing is available at http://www.cerridwenpress.com/

For an excerpt check out this and other books at http://www.jacquelineroth.com/