Rainey Days (Raynie?)

We’ve had a fair number of rainy days here in New Jersey this month. I’m not complaining, but the entire summer has been pretty rainy. What that is going to mean most likely is that we’ll have a lot of snow this winter.

Snow is the only weather phenomena that I didn’t include in my Weather Series, which is being re-released at New Concepts Publishing. How’d you like that segue?

Okay, since I’m late and this books is apparently going to come out any minute now *grin* here’s a nice big excerpt! I’m going to have the last in the series ready pretty soon, so it’s aimed at NCP also.

Electric Rayne

by J.J. Massa

Chapter 1



Rayne tried to ignore the pounding on the door but it wouldn’t stop. Finally, she stumbled to the kitchen door where all the pounding originated.

Stumbling to the door without even opening her eyes, she flung open the door and snapped, “What?” She held one hand, palm splayed in front of her face to deflect the annoying sunlight pouring in.

The man who’d been outside pounding came inside the house. He stepped through the door and closed it behind him.

“Who are you, what do you want, and can it wait?” she grumbled half asleep, turning to slump against the counter. “Thanks for closing the …” she waved her hand at the door. She was home again, nobody here would hurt her – annoy her definitely, but she was safe in her grandmother’s house.

“Your Mamere asked me to check on you today,” the stranger in a sheriff’s uniform growled.

“That old biddy hates me. I know it. She’s hated me since the day I was born.” Rayne couldn’t hold her head up any longer.

When her head drooped into her crossed arms, she slid to the floor and curled up into a ball. She couldn’t help it. She was just so tired.

“Just lock the door when you leave, Monsieur,” she mumbled from the floor.

“Feel free to leave me a note. I swear I’ll call you if I ever wake up.”

*

Remy Doucette couldn’t believe this woman. She’d lain down on the kitchen floor and gone to sleep, it appeared. No wonder old Ms. Deveau had asked him to check on her today, specifically.

“Mademoiselle, have you been on a three day bender or something?” he asked, squatting down next to her.

What a curvaceous little heap of woman. She didn’t smell as if she was steeped in alcohol. In fact, she smelled like raspberries, honeysuckle and – rain.

“Took me a week to get out of Malaysia,” she complained. “Would have sold my soul for something stronger than coffee to drink,” she grumbled.

“What the hell did you do there?” he barked, incredulous.

“Instructing the indigenous population in the use of herbs and Homeopathic medicine,” she sighed. She rolled over, facing away from him.

He scooped her up into his arms and held her against his chest, turning toward the upstairs bedrooms. He’d been in this house many times and knew it well.

She couldn’t weigh a hundred pounds, he decided. Her head rolled onto his shoulder.

“Which one is your bedroom, Mademoiselle?” he questioned her, heading up the stairs.

“Last on the left. Oh my God, you smell sooo good,” she moaned. She burrowed into his neck.

“Pardon me?” he stopped short, taken aback. His body leaped to attention. He could feel his heart slamming against his chest.

She rubbed her face in the place where his shoulder met his throat. When she touched the hollow behind his ear with her tongue, he groaned aloud. She pressed her lips to the juncture where his upper jaw met his lower.

“What is your cologne, Monsieur?” she whispered, tasting him again.

“Mmmm,” she moaned.

“I don’t wear cologne, Mademoiselle,” he told her as firmly as he could manage.

She had wrapped both arms around his neck and had buried her face in the collar of his shirt.

“I am so sure I’m going to be humiliated when I wake up. Please, God, let this be a dream,” she groaned, rubbing her nose in the sprinkling of hair below his sternum.

“If you don’t stop that, Mademoiselle…” he choked out in warning. In one second, he was going to rip her feminine lace night gown in half and bury his painful erection into her over and over until she could have no doubt about what was a dream and what wasn’t.

“Please,” she whispered, dragging her lower lip up his skin and inhaling deeply against his throat.

Suddenly, she collapsed back into sleep. Very gently, he laid her down on her bed and pulled the sheet over her.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

And that's an excerpt from the first part of the book. I hope you give it a read, even though it's a re-release. The second in the series, Ashes in the Wind will be out next month, I'm told. Be sure and check out my new releases and those coming soon at:

So, that's it for now!

See you soon.

J.J. Massa

Summer of the Hero

It’s come to my attention within the past few days that this is the Summer of the Hero. Currently, The Romance Studio’s Summer Event is featuring our beloved romance heroes, including a contest for the top heroes via your votes. Exciting hot stuff!
Also, my author friend, Lindsay Townsend, is having two weeks of HERO DAYS on her group blog, Lindsay’s Romantics ~ the first four blogs about our romance novel heroes have been posted. And it is good stuff!
However, let’s delve a bit deeper. It’s my contention that as a society we’ve reached that crucial point where we need our heroes again. Real heroes. Those who truly protect and serve, as in Camelot’s Knights of the Round Table ~ as in the legend of Robin Hood. Because, who protects and bails out the little guy and gal these days?
Not only do we need our true heroes, we need to act heroically in our own lives. Being heroic in this day and age, is an individual expression, and could simply mean being there for someone in a time of trouble. It could mean an encouraging smile. It could mean you purchase regularly at your local farmer’s market, not only for the benefit of your health, but to vote with your dollars.
As authors and aspiring authors we have a critical role to play at this juncture in history. We write heroes... we know how to write love stories about heroic men and women. Many of us have researched the hero archetype. Certainly, we instinctively know a hero when we pen one. Plus, heck, all those adventure movies like ‘Indiana Jones’ and the *hero wins the day* TV shows have gone to our brain and live within us forever.
For me, a few of them are The Lone Ranger, Zorro, the Errol Flynn swashbuckling movies, Star Wars... I could go on and on...
Yep, larger-than-life Heroes are on the rise in every subgenre of romance from what I’ve seen lately. For example, western romance has hit its stride and is a growing trend. What’s not to love about those rugged *won the west* heroes (and heroines)?
Right alongside our Cowboy Heroes are the super-strength heroes in paranormal/urban fantasy romance ~ the vampires, werewolves, shapeshifters, superheroes ~ or the Man from Atlantis (loved that show) ~ the man from another dimension, from another world, from the wonders of the author’s imagination.
Wouldn’t that be interesting... if there was a website devoted to providing the heritage/pedigree of every romance author’s imagined hero and heroine? A huge out-of-this-world undertaking... whew!
You would think I’d take this opportunity to present the heroes in my books. I should, but I’m in the middle of writing my contracted story, Branded by the Texans. Time being what it is, I’m only allotted so much.

Instead ~

Zerr Dann Volcano ~ Before His Mission on Earth

Yes, my hero in WHEN A GOOD ANGEL FALLS is an odd breed. Rare in the angelic realms, Zerr Dann Volcano is called a Carnal Cherub because he’s able to operate in the material realms of planet-worlds and in the etheric worlds with equal effectiveness.
A touch of research reveals that originally Cherubs, or the Cherubim, were fierce take-no-prisoner warriors, before morphing into the adorable little guys of today.
Besides, who better to rescue my angel heroine, fallen to Earth, than a Carnal Cherub?

Since I love exploring the past, present and future of my heroines and heroes, I couldn’t resist writing the following scene... with a nudge from Volcano... okay, many nudges. Because heck, I’d been wanting to know what mission Volcano had accomplished so impressively that he was assigned the Earth Mission: 2012 Ominous ~ despite being called a ‘pup’ warrior because of his youth and inexperience.

Note: Zerr Dann is Volcano’s angelic name, which means volcano.
~~~~~~

Zerr Dann Volcano ~ Before His Mission on Earth

“Want to earn your big angel wings?” Raich Naell thundered a jovial laugh. Spinning himself into a magnificent whirlwind for his own pleasure, he halted on the point of a star beam, his fearsome gaze directed at his only nephew.
“Bigger and blacker than they already are?” Zerr Dann drily grinned, rising from the tall, stainless steel stool. Around him, the few late night customers inside the Route 66 diner were suspended in mid-action.
“Earn those black-as-sin wings of yours, several sizes bigger, and you’ll be considered for an Earth mission of supreme importance.” Floating near the ceiling, Raich Naell spread his silver-gilded wings majestically, framing his handsome physique.
“Mission 2012 Ominous?” Zerr Dann arched his brows. He unfurled his ebony wings in preparation for traveling through the dimensional layers. The opportunity his uncle offered would be instantaneous.
Raich Naell glowered, a mere speck of time on Earth in this year labeled 2009. “Your father speaks too freely.”
“Earth is a favored planet culture of his. A bastion of freedom compared to many.” Zerr Dann never backed down before those more elevated in the Angelic Realm. It wasn’t his nature. In that way he was a fierce chip off the ole block.
Winging higher, he regarded the thunderous, yet sublime features of his uncle. He served Archangel Michael as one of The Carnal High. A watcher over many material worlds, his faithfulness was cherished and relied upon. Although, he rarely got a wing tip dirty by interacting with the sentient humanoids, always summoning Carnal Cherubs like Zerr Dann.
“Freedom,” Raich Naell boomed. The sound circled Earth several times. “Free those of the Light Souls from their prison. Defeat the Triad Demons before the planet, Taijos, enters the next galactic time phase and I will place your name before the Divine Council.”
“Done. As seen by All Eyes.”
Zerr Dann agreed before he considered his destiny. For one reason, he knew dark days descended on Earth like the locust plagues of old.

***
Incorporeal in form, Zerr Dann dived through the layers of darkness toward the pastoral farming world. The black energy attempted to feed on him, to suck on his divine force and transmute it for use by the Triad Demons.
Savage as a torrent of tsunamis, the layers attacked him as he neared the underground labyrinth that was being used as a prison for the Light Souls, the small part of the population still clinging to their angelic natures.
Zerr Dann flashed to his corporeal body, his feet striking the ground. Momentarily surprised his wings emerged, he strengthened them by blazing his warrior light to the pointed tips. At the same time he absorbed the unique vibrations of Taijos.
Creating his fiery battle sword, he imbued it with his pure intent, the defeat of the Triad Demons and the liberation of the Light Souls. Only his ability to remain focused would assure him a swift and impressive victory. Allowing another thought to intrude and steal his mind for even the wink of a star could mean ages of battle. So his father had trained him.
The roar of screams, millions of them gathered from the enslaved population, cycloned around him. The shrieks of terror were designed to distract him long enough for the Demons to mount an attack. Dismissing the sound, Zerr Dann streaked through the air, winging toward the main gate of the labyrinth.
With back and forth swipes of his sword, he flew through the contingent of demon-possessed guards. Their souls hissed in agony for a moment, then were saved, collected by the death angels ringing the world.
Horrendous rumbles of sound shot up from the ground below him. A chasm formed, ripping apart the land. Only the constant prayers of the Light Souls stopped their deaths and the rending obliteration of their prison.
Aiming his intent through the point of his sword, Zerr Dann dissolved the labyrinth’s heavy metal gate. The crisscross of bars turned white and disappeared, returned to dust.
Huddled together, the first group of people stared in paralyzed shock until understanding dawned on them. As soon as they could, they ran stumbling toward freedom.
Zerr Dann arrowed his flight. Near light speed now, he fired lightning bolts through several rock walls creating a direct path out of the prison for the next group of people, then the next until he arrived at the last group, priests and priestesses who had defied the evil claiming their world. Standing bravely, they faced the three demons.
The sheer physical beauty of the Triad Demons nearly caused his downfall. They’d taken the shapes of goddesses, the very ones that lusted his loins and caused him to feel inebriated with euphoria. Beyond that, they’d soaked themselves in the beauty of every man, woman and child they’d enslaved or devoured.
The remnants of their latest feeding littered the high stone altar. Three severed hands, a leg from the knee down. Pieces of bloody flesh not quite to their taste. One head rested on the bloody stump of its neck. It was the head of a priest.
Flattening his wings, Zerr Dann spun upwards, his sword held straight above his head. A shield of starfire brilliance surrounded him as he whirled toward the tornadic advance of the three demons. They’d returned to their first form and their shadow physiology sucked at his force like the blackholes that tunneled into hellish dimensions.
Acting on intent rather than thought, Zerr Dann spiraled his soul’s light outward. His white flames sliced through the Triad Demon’s vortex-slashing attack. Once a multitude of his slashes weakened their horrific level of power, he halted his spin.
Charging, he plunged his sword through one demon. It faded into the ethers howling a death scream. In the fragment of time it took him to whip around, the black dagger composed of their evil deeds, seared through his shoulder. Its poisonous frequencies spread as Zerr Dann stabbed the tip of his lightning blade into the demon’s throat.
Partially transformed into one of the goddesses, it landed with a thud on the labyrinth floor, then disintegrated. Slowed by the darkness infecting him, Zerr Dann dropped and stood amid the priests and priestesses.
Determination coiled though him as he faced the beautiful goddess, his fiery blade poised. She smiled, the epitome of every woman he’d ever loved, ever desired, ever cared for.
With one long fast-as-the-wind strike, he beheaded her. Falling on all fours, his sword lost to its deed, Zerr Dann retched, a brutal quaking of his flesh. He felt the priests and priestesses gather around him. Rapidly laying their hands on his body and his wings, they chanted prayers for his healing. As one sacred force.
Gratitude overwhelmed Zerr Dann and became a tidal force through his Being. He rose up.
~~~~~~

WHEN A GOOD ANGEL FALLS

Blurb ~

Winter Solstice, December 21, 2012 – The end of the Mayan Calendar

What happens when a world weary, worn out incarnated angel, Sedona, who believes she is merely human has three choices after her old van breaks down? Let the Nazerazzi squad of the North American Union capture her and force her into a FEMA concentration camp? Walk out into the Arizona night desert, let the wildlife have a good meal, with the hope her death will be quick? Or does Sedona trust the mysterious stranger suddenly before her? Handsome as sin and all in black, he emerges from the darkness astride a super-speed black motorcycle.

Is he her savior from the brutal hell of end times, or is he a roving cult member of the New World Order, hunting his next blood sacrifice?
Sent from heaven to help her save humanity, Zerr Dann knows the Divine is playing its last card on Earth.
~~~

Happy Summer Reading...
May your most romantic dreams come true...

Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~
~~~

Sedona & Volcano invite you to read their love story ~
WHEN A GOOD ANGEL FALLS ~ Where angels fear to tread, 2012 Earth...Is a stranger on a superspeed motorcycle her savior from the brutal endtimes? ~ available from BookStrand ~ http://bookstrand.com/authors/savannakougar ~ http://bookstrand.com ~ NOW IN PRINT [Barnes and Noble & Amazon] ~ An Author Discovery by Lindsay Townsend ~ http://sirenbookstrand.blogspot.com ~
Volcano’s Angelic Forecast for this week ~ http://sirenbookstrand.blogspot.com ~

Plugged In

The dh and I got new iPhones last week. Poor guy has been using a phone we had in 2004, and when his company offered a discount on iPhones ($79 each! Used, though.) and the data plan (about what we're already paying) and threw in a free phone for the boy, we jumped on it.

But as we played with them and fell in love with them, I started to wonder---how MUCH do we need to be in contact? It's one thing to have a phone with you all the time, to be in touch that way. I resisted getting a cell phone for years, but dang, it's nice to not miss a call.

But now I have my gmail and my Twitter with me all the time. That just may be overdoing it. The only thing that will keep me too connected is my tendency to be cheap. I don't want to go above our allotted minutes, so unless I'm at a place with WiFi, I won't spend too much time on the phone.

Do you have a smart phone? Do you sometimes wish you WEREN'T so connected?

BTW, I also have about 15 ebooks on it. Awe. Some. And that goes to wanting to be entertained all the time, but that's a different post ;)

Summer Heat!

Summer Heat!
By
N. J. Walters

It’s midsummer and the thermometer is creeping higher every day. This is the time of year we all look forward to during the long, cold winters—that is if you live in a cold-weather climate. The kids are off from school and we’re all looking forward to some vacation time. But can we afford it?

With the economy being what it is, we’ve all had to tighten our belts. Here’s a few ways to get the most out of your summer without having to spend a bundle.

1. Vacation at home. Look around your town or city as if you just moved there. Is there a museum or historical site you’ve never visited or haven’t visited in years? Take the family. Many places have family rates these days.

2. Make a day of it at your local park. Pack some drinks, snacks, a blanket and the Frisbee and head out to the park. There’s sometimes a playground area for the kids to enjoy while you sit in the shade and watch…unless, of course, you want your turn on the swings. I know, I do. Everyone gets some fresh air and sunshine. Just remember the sunscreen.

3. Go out for an ice cream cone. It’s not just for kids! We all love ice cream. If you don’t have a lot of money stick with the tried and true Popsicles. They’re always a bargain. If your budget isn’t quite so tight, there are shops around with gourmet ice cream in all kinds of flavors to tempt you.

Personally, I’m a traditionalist. I love a good vanilla…especially when it’s covered in chocolate. If you’re budget is practically nonexistent, pick up a plastic Popsicle mold at the dollar shop and make your own at home treats. You can make them out of whatever juice or drink you and your family enjoy.

4. You can never go wrong with a barbecue. It doesn’t have to be fancy. Hot dogs and hamburgers taste delicious when grilled and eaten outdoors.

5. Check your local paper for free concerts. Most cities offer free entertainment during the summer months. Try some new music for free. You just might like it.

6. Plan a video day. It’s much cheaper to rent movies than to take the entire family to the movies. Pop your own corn and curl up in front of the television and enjoy a great movie with your kids or your honey. This is particularly good on a rainy day.

7. Have an at home spa day. Invite your girl friends over for an afternoon of pampering and talk. Some cold drinks and a tray or fresh fruit and cheese are all you need for treats. Do each other’s nails and just enjoy spending time with your female friends. Again, the dollar shop is a great place to pick up supplies. I’m not kidding. The dollar shop has changed a lot in the past ten years. You can find just about anything there.

8. Take yourself out to a local coffee shop that you’ve never visited before. We all get into a rut going to the places we know and are comfortable. Shake up your world and try something new. You can easily try a new place for less than ten bucks. And who knows, you might find a new favorite place.

9. Check out your local library. There’s more there than just books! You can get DVDs, CDs, magazines and books for free. It’s a great way to try out a new author, check out some new music or possibly find a new hobby.

10. Finally, hit the bookstore and buy yourself a new book. For an even better deal, go online and download one. This time of year is great for summer themed books. You could even check out Heat Wave by…me. *g* This is an erotic summer tale from Ellora’s Cave Publishing that will steam you up before it cools you down. Ice anyone?

How are you getting the most out of your summer vacation?

http://www.njwalters.com
http://www.njwalters.blogspot.com
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/awakeningdesires/ (newsletter group)

In The Mind's Eye

I still consider myself a newbie to the publishing world. Our Valentine Vixen Quickie, Heart on His Sleeve and Sapphire Gem Novella, Winning Bess at Ellora’s Cave are our only publications, so far. So, I read Craft books and want to learn how to write the best story possible.

Recently, I read about writing description. The mind’s eye was mentioned. and it made sense to me because it touched on a pet peeve of mine. How too much description can detract from a story. What’s the mind’s eye? It’s what we, as readers, use to visualize and become involved in the story. And it’s what writer’s need to engage, and not distract a reader from, as we tell a story. In romance novels, the mind’s eye should be focused on the personal journey of the characters to their happily ever after.

When we read or write, we see what the setting looks like, including furniture, clothes, and the all important physical appearance of the characters. The tricky part is when our minds eye is engaged, we see things from our own perspective. Our life experiences and exposure to the world influence how we visualize the story and that makes it more personal to us... Obviously, no one’s perspective is the same.

For example, how many of you have gone to a movie based on a book you have read? Did you walk away saying that’s not what I read? I did not see him as the hero? The book was so much better! This is because the movie is mainly the Director’s perspective of the story. And one reason I don’t like to go to movies based on something I’ve read. I find myself playing armchair quarterback, arguing how different the book was. I do it the other way around, movie then book, though. Because then I read the book with the experience of seeing the movie as part of my perspective.

Writers need to be careful about how much our words detract from letting readers experience the book from their own perspective. Over description is one of the ways we can distract a reader. If it’s not pertinent to advancing the plot or a key element the reader needs to hold onto, don’t go into too much detail. Writers shouldn’t force the reader to see places and people the way we do…that interrupts the flow of the story.

If the hero is walking into an office of a rich man, which he will only enter once in the story, there is no need to describe every piece of furniture the way you visualize it. Just mention the office was furnished in an opulent way that indicated a large bank account. Everyone will see that office differently. But what does it matter? They now know that the man is wealthy.

I was reading a book set in a prehistoric time period. I am guessing the author wanted to describe what the world was like, make it realistic and show she did her research. So, as the heroine floated down a river on a raft, there was page after page describing prehistoric foliage and insects in great detail. It pulled me right out of the story. I lost track of the heroine’s personal journey and I found myself skipping pages to find the story again. All I needed to know was that the river was lined with tall trees and greenery and the air hummed with insects moving through them…

Too much description can be all the research a writer accumulated on a time period or something as little as the exact shade of blue of a heroine’s eyes (they were the soft blue of a cornflower…now we're concentrating on what exactly that blue is and not how attracted the hero is to her).

Awesome authors have mastered the balance between how much description is needed to give the reader the feel of the story and what the characters are experiencing and not sounding like a catalogue description. And something I’ll keep striving to improve in my stories!

Mari

Wanted: True Love

By Janet Quinn

I am excited. My next book, Wanted: True Love is due out from Whiskey Creek Press in September. It is a light, funny, contemporary romance.

This weekend I did the edits and sent them back. I haven’t looked at the book in months, so it was nice to visit with Quinton and Bree-Anna again. Luckily, the edits were not a great deal of work. Those are the kind I like.

This was a book that was fun to write. Bree-Anna is a witch, like Samantha in Bewitched. Bree-Anna blinks her eyes and things happen. One small problem she has is that she is allergic to champagne. When she drinks it, her powers go berserk and strange things happen.

She is coming up on her 200^th birthday with a curse put upon her by Gerard, a overly possessive warlock. If she doesn’t find true love, then she must marry him or lose her powers.

Here enters Quinton, mere mortal, but hunky. She is putting her last hope on him, but can he accept her for what she is.

Now I am waiting for my cover. That is always an exciting moment to see a new cover. And, of course, there is still the galley to read for mistakes. Then, all is done.

The neverending journey

That's what I call the journey to publication. Because once you set your foot on the first step, if you want to suicceed you can never, ever stop. ANd having an idea, the germ of a plot, is only the first baby step. To begin with, you have to write the darn thing, and if you;re like me, you sat down at a comouter without knowing any of those fofreign words and phrases like POV, shift change, backstory, dialogue tags, and a whole lot more. I was so unutterably stpid I thought you just sat down and wrote, proofed your manuscript (which, by the way, I am very bad at), looked up a list of pujblishers and happily sent of your baby to a success ful reception.

I hiope you have a lot of painkiller for the bruises and bumps you get with that first fall. I got every kind of rejection letter you can think of, from "You have an excellent story but you need to take some workshops on how to build your plot" to "I'm sorry, this is just too hard for me to follow so I'm sure it would be for a read" to the dreaded form rejection, where you are so imperonalized they can't even be bothered to write three lines of a personal note.

Wow! I thought. this may be harder than I thought.

I went to a local booksigning where a large group of very nice women were milling around the authors and, with ym Dumbass sign flashing, asked, "Can you tell me how to get a book published?

To their credit they did't all fall down laughed uproariously and holding their sides. Instead the invited me tio join their writers group, where I found wonderful things like a critique group-never sit down at your compuiter without one-and workshops, and an open portal to just about anything I could want or need in my quest to become a published author.

At meetings we celebrated good news when someone signed a new contract, especially if it was the first, and commiserated when someone received-yup, you guess it-another rejection.

What is wrong with these people out there? I wanted to demand. Don't they know talent when they see it?

This was long before I really understood hiow the publishihng industry works, how tough the competition is, and the sometimes luck-of-the-draw way manuscripts are plucked from the sliugh pile and contracted.

But I perservered, because I just knew one day it would happen for me. I entered contest, a great wy to get feedback, by the way, and soaked up all the notes and criticisms. And kept plugging away at that first book. By the time I got to reqrite #34 I was ready to delete every bit of it from my comoputer, but I thought, No, you don;'t throw out your first born.

Then one day, my journey took an unexpectedly positive turn...I made my first sale. Not that book, another one, but a real, honest-to-god sale. To one of the new wave of publishing houses, an electronic publisher. And that's when I realized that electronics had opened the world of publishing up beyond anyone's wildest dreams. Authors with big lumps on their heads from banging them against closed doors now had another venue for their work, a venue that could be read on anything from a cell phone to a PDA to one of the new breed of ereaders.

Wow! I thought. this is like when Thomas Edison discovered electricity or Alexander Graham Bell the telephone. This is terrific.

So gradually, over the next coupkle of years, I practiced my craft, sold more books-and to this day am stuill thankful for the wonderful editor I was blessed with-and every time I learned something, I pulled out that first manuscript and gave it one more rewrite.

The journey of bumps and bruises has now finally paid off. That book, now entitled Target, will be released in November as Book One in The Protectors, a series with The Wild Rose Press. And you know what? Book Two, Boomerang, is finished and contracted and Book Three" Echoes of the OPast is almost completed.

I look at Target, the final productm, and realized I took a toddler barely ready for kindergarten, sent him off to the world of Advanced Placement, and now he's finally, finally, fianlly ready to compete in the big world out there. A proud moment fior mommy, and don't think I won't be having a huge celebration.

So I guess what I want to say ehre is, never, ever, ever give up. Set your path on that journey with your goals firmly in your mind, and suck up everything you can akong the way to help you. because the prize is out there. You just have to reach for it.

Before I leave you, I'll give you a taste of The Protectors:

TARGET

She didn’t know why her late father’s partner wanted to kill her or who the man was he was planning with. Only luck put her in place to overhear the conversation. But the threat was enough to send Kathryn Holt on a frantic flight, taking with her a flash drive that held the secrets of his business. With a big target painted on her back, mediocre, easily led Kathryn Holt became feisty and inventive Kate Griffin. But even Kate reached her limit the night her junker car broke down in the middle of Texas until Quinn, mysterious dark knight with secrets of his own appeared out of the night. Soon scorching sex was neutralizing the intense fear she’d been living with and Quinn was ready to slay her dragons. But two shootings and two brushes with death nearly cost Kate her life and almost destroyed Quinn, bringing back memories he thought he’d buried. With the bad guys finally out of commission, will Kate and Quinn be able to salvage the passion that still smolders between them?

BOOMERANGWhen Katya “Kat” Lombardo wakes up in the den of her partner’s palatial home with a gun in hr hand and his dead body on the floor beside her, she knows she’s in big trouble. She has no recollection of the events leading up to this, or how or why she has this gun. She calls on the only person she feels she can trust, Zak Delaney, her former lover who she broke with after a bitter argument. But can Zak put aside his bitterness to help her? As she runs from the people trying to kill her, people who destroy her home, and her business and definitely want to destroy her, will the chemistry still there between them sizzle to the surface or will it explode and demolish them both?

Come visit me at www.judithrochelle.com and www.myspace.com/judithdesiree

Hanging with Fam

It’s been and interesting summer. I’ve been hanging with the fam. My sister and nephew are here for their yearly visit. Just chilling and reconnecting. I love when they come for their visit. My sis and I laugh and have lots of fun. My nephew looks at us like we are nuts but he also has a wicked sense of humor.

My cousin and her fam who live close to me have come by to also chat and so on. My other sister who also lives close came by too. One day they all showed up and my house was overrun with people. Imagine 8 kids and 6 adults. Whew it was a fun and crazy day. I love hanging with the fam. Nice talking about old times, current events and politics. We had some rousing discussions. LOL.

Hanging with fam is one of my favorite summer things. What are some of your fav summer things?

McKenna Jeffries

http://www.mckennajeffries.com/

…. sensual, edgy, unexpected

Blog: http://www.mckennajeffries.com/blog

Chat Group: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/McKennaJeffriesList

Free Reads Site: http:/ /www.satinnotes.com/

Conquering Jazz - What’s a woman to do when she unwittingly makes a tantalizing proposition to her best friend?

Be brazen, bold and set some ground rules.Her offer. One night of carnal bliss. No emotion allowed.

His counter offer. A continued affair to fulfill all their sexual cravings.

His hidden agenda. Conquer to make sure their affair never ends.

Buy here at Liquid Silver Book.

Cupid's Arrow Excerpt

My first book published with Whiskey Creek Press was on their best sellers list for two consecutive months!

The bathroom wasn’t all that big and when Mike stepped further into the room it shrunk even smaller. “Sorry if I frightened you.” As he spoke his eyes moved around the room, searching for a good place for her to sit. There was only one place high enough. “Up.” He patted the vanity top.

“Up? I don’t think…” Before she could brace herself Mike’s hands went to her waist, hoisting her up without any trouble. She caught her breath when her legs came in contact with the cold marble surface.

“You were saying?” He took in her pretty blush, noticing she couldn’t meet his eyes.

"Do you always get your way?” There was a slight tremor in her voice, which didn’t go unnoticed by Mike. He couldn’t help wondering if she was as effected as he was by their close proximity. He began questioning his common sense. Her sitting on the vanity brought them almost at eye level.

“When it matters,” he responded with amusement He lowered his gaze, taking in the blood soaking her costume before opening the kit to see what it offered. Not much, but at least it had bandages and antibiotic ointment. He set it aside, reaching for Emma’s leg.

She stiffened immediately.

“Ouch.”

His eyes shot up to hers. “I haven’t even touched you yet.”

“I’m practicing,” she said with sass, the light in her eyes catching Mike’s interest and turning him warm inside.

For a second he wanted to do something crazy, like kiss that soft mouth. He wanted to know if it taste as sweet as it looked. He wondered if kissing her would erase the humor that always seemed present in her eyes, replacing it with something else. Something hot and needy. When he realized he was staring at her mouth he literally shook his head, swearing beneath his breath.

“Are you okay?” There was nothing at all innocent about her question. Not when she used that low, seductive tone and was looking at him like something she wanted to lap up.

Was he okay? Hell, he hadn’t been okay since the first time he looked into her large, brown eyes. He managed to find enough strength to ignore her comment, bending to the task at hand. His hands reached for the fabric covering her thigh, gently parting it where it was torn.

Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves and stop the shaking of his hands, he carefully inspected the wound. His fingers and knuckles grazed Emma’s soft skin and he clenched his teeth to ignore the rush of heat exploding through him. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d touched anything so satiny.

He gently probed the area, searching for any remaining glass. Emma caught her breath, stiffening, her hands falling upon his shoulders as though to push him away. Mike slowly raised his eyes to hers, losing himself in the sensual pools. His hands faltered. The glare of the bathroom light emphasized the situation between them making it more intimate than it should be.

“It’s not deep, you won’t need stitches. But if it heals up with glass inside it could become infected.”

“I know you’re not hurting me on purpose, Mike. Maybe I need a bullet to bite on or something.” The soft look in her eyes told him she trusted him. “Do what you need to do.”

What he needed to do and what he wanted to do was the same thing. If Emma only knew what she was inviting, he thought to himself. He was standing between her glorious thighs, touching her, his gaze dropped to her breasts noticing the peaks were crowned. They rose and fell softly with her every breath, teasing him, almost begging him for attention. If he made it out of there without making a complete fool of himself it would be a miracle.

As if sensing the direction of his thoughts Emma suddenly removed her hands from his shoulders. Lord, he thought, just let him finish up and get the hell out of there while he could still walk.

Debbie Wallace AKA Tory Richards
Romance with an Attitude Blog

Something new for Alexis Fleming

July 1st marked the release of a book called Heart & Craft, published by Allen & Unwin in Australia. The publisher has tagged it as the ultimate 'how-to' book on romance writing, written by ten Australian and New Zealand romance writers and edited by the undisputed Queen of Romance Fiction in Australia, Valerie Parv.


I was thrilled to pieces to be asked to write the chapter on Erotic Romance. This was a little different for me. It’s my first non-fiction book and the first I’ve contracted to go straight to print.




Heart & Craft

ISBN: 9781741757217

Format: Paperback

Publisher: ALLEN & UNWIN


Link to Book







To celebrate the release of Heart & Craft, the authors involved in the book are running a Scavenger Hunt. And have we got some fantastic prizes. Check it out!


9 Carat Gold Genuine Natural Diamond & Sapphire Heart Pendant
Pearl, crystal and silver hearts charm bracelet
Two silver heart charm bracelets
Gold heart drop necklace
3 pairs of heart-shaped cubic zirconia stud earrings


Here’s a photo of the first prize—the diamond and sapphire pendant—to whet your appetite.





That’s eight prizes to give away.

What do you have to do to be in the running to win one of these prizes? Check out my Contest page on my website to see how you can be in the running for one of these fab prizes.



The Heart & Craft Scavenger Hunt begins 1st July and will close 30th July. The winners will be announced early August.







Alexis Fleming
http://www.alexisfleming.net

Ghosts Of Storylines Past

One of the fun things about writing romance is that romance readers are… well… fun people. Authors don't take themselves too seriously. Readers don't take themselves too seriously. We're all simply looking for a good time in the book department.

That frees romance writers up to be truly creative. If we get a bit silly, readers tend to forgive us. If we have a joke plot, readers usually get the joke.

I wrote Selling Forever, my July release, as a wink and a nod to the bachelor auction plots of 1980's romances. Remember those? The heroine, after spotting a hot guy, simply places a bid on him. Easy Peasy. If only all of life was that simple!

I worried a bit about readers maybe not getting the joke but since that's one of my dear sweet Mom's favorite plots and I was truly writing the novella for her (because she's the best Mom in the world), I plunged ahead with the story anyway. I had an absolute blast writing it. I gave one of my favorite characters my mom's name (Shirley). I indulged in bad puns, groaner jokes. It was a hoot.

There was no need to worry. Readers got it. They got it and they've been sending me in emails about their favorite past plots (secret babies, female pirates in disguise, bull riding cowboy twins – don't ask - grinning) and some very good groaner jokes of their own. Nothing like opening up the email to…

A young carrot got into a serious accident.
Momma Carrot rushed to the hospital.
Dr. Tomato told her "I have good news and bad news."
"What's the good news?" asked Momma Carrot.
"Your son will live."
"And the bad?"
"I'm afraid he'll be a vegetable for life."

I passed that one to my bad joke loving nine year old niece.

Romance readers are, hands down, the best readers in the world!

$

Every month, Kimber Chin gives away her favorite romance eBook read the month before. To enter, visit http://businessromance.com/

When is it a good time to give up?

I've been thinking about 'giving up' a lot lately. Carolan's post about her father made me remember my father's death, 11 years ago. He fought cancer hard, but in the end, it was best for him to give up.

When do you give up a job? My husband has been struggling with that. He's not very happy where he is, and he's wondering if it's time to move on. He's not terribly UNHAPPY, though, either, so it's a dilemma.

When do you give up on a book? I was writing my latest mystery, and got to chapter 8 and realized it was a lackluster effort. Things just worked jiving, they weren't clicking. So I went back, redid things, restarted the book in a new spot and it feels much, much better now.

When do you give up on an organization? The recent (never-ending and annual) fuss about RWA and its rules about digital publishing make me reassess my renewal of membership every year. I finally decided that I needed to make an effort to facilitate change, so I tossed my hand in the ring for national office. If nothing comes of it, that's fine, but I felt I had to do something to get other views heard.

Everyone has to decide for themselves when to walk away -- from life, a job, a project, a group. We can ask for input from friends and family, but in the end it has to be our choice. You know it's a good one when you look back and realize you made the right choice (and yes, I think we get that chance to consider it after we die).

And if you didn't make the right choice? Not making a choice is the same as choosing, so the fact that you made a choice and tried a new path means you were trying to take positive steps. If it doesn't work out, you'll have new options to consider.

So don't worry about 'giving up': it's just another way to say you're choosing a new route. Who knows where it might take you?

Happy Bastille Day!

Happy Bastille Day!

Ah, Paris.

Well, France actually. Sweet memories and lots of fantasies. There's something about France that calls to the romantic. I may only have a tiny amount of French blood in my veins, but a large part of my heart will always be at home on the Ile St. Louis in an apartment over a bakery, with the scent of roasting coffee and raisin bread to wake me up to a gray morning in the City of Light. Another part will be dashing across the French countryside in a sprung carriage, racing away from Chauvalin, the Scarlet Pimpernel by my side as we make for the coast and freedom. For me, France is a fantasy and reality all blissfully intertwined.

Bastille Day, when the French celebrate all that is Frenchness. The food, the wine, the philosophy, the song. I spent one Bastille Day on French soil, in Tours, where my companions attempted to get the DJ of a karaoke bar to play Mariah Carey song. I tried to explain, it's like trying to get an American DJ to play a French song on the Fourth of July. It's just not happening.

Bastille Day, when dashing heroes are rescuing maidens imperiled in the madness of the Revolution, and getting a very thorough reward for their efforts. Petticoats and passionate French kisses. Powdered wigs and powder kegs.

France is a land of beauty and attitude, of soft dappled light and lush countryside. A hedonists dream, and a land made to explore every sort of passion. Love is a little more free there than anywhere else, and passions run a little hotter when whispered in the language of romance.

I have yet to find the perfect plot to reflect my deep love for France, but once I do, I will glory in writing about the land, the people, and the passion of France. But for now, I will make crepes for dinner, spend money on a good Brie and a bottle of wine, and drink a toast to romance and to France.



Elaine Lowe is a work-at-home mom in Silicon Valley. She misses traveling intensely, but makes up for it in her imagination, and is current working on books set in Bristol, England and Waimea, Hawaii. Check out her website and her books at www.elainelowenovels.com

A Butt-Kicking Friend is Good to Find

Friend: noun
1. Someone who knows when to offer her shoulder
2. Someone who knows when to kick your ass (q.v. true friend)

-----

I’ll get right down to the nitty gritty. I lost my father about a month ago. Actually I’d been in the process of losing him for at least the last ten years; May 23 was simply the final chapter in a death-cheating odyssey that confounded the best specialists in central North Carolina. I mean, Dad would show up for an appointment and his doctors would say half-seriously, “Dude, are you still alive?”

I had this idea that when his end finally came, I’d be ready for it. Shake it off, secure in the knowledge that Dad’s was a life well lived, and move on to do likewise.

When I’d share this with my best friend J.C. Wilder, she’d nod and smile. She’d been down this road. She knew better.

Last December, my most recent title hit the virtual bookshelves right about the same time I visited my parents for the holidays. One look at Dad, and my Mom and I exchanged glances that said we knew it wouldn’t be much longer for him. He always went to great pains to sound hale and hearty on the phone, when in reality he couldn’t walk more than a few steps.

I took a deep breath and told myself I was okay. I wasn’t. I went back to Ohio ready to dive into book three of my Legends series — and found myself staring hopelessly at the screen, my mind as empty as the rest of my life looked without my Dad in it.

J.C. and my editor, Lindsey, were patient. They were kind and supportive through the final ordeal that ended May 23 as Dad passed peacefully into the next life. They bided their time over the next two weeks, waiting for me to turn back to the writing that has been a huge healing force in my life.

By early June, they lost patience. They knew better than I did that if I wallowed in my funk much longer, there might be no getting out again. There was only one way to get me back on task. Spring a carefully planned trap.

I knew something was up when I observed the two of them huddled over martinis in a dark corner of the bar at the Lori Foster conference. And how they’d stop talking whenever I came within hearing range. They even waited to strike until I was driving home.

My cell phone rang.

“Okay, here’s the plan,” said J.C. without preamble. (She always assumes I know it’s her.) “Starting tomorrow, you are going to start writing a novella. We don’t care what it’s about. You will write for two hours a day for six days a week. At the end of that two hours, you will email me the file, and I will forward it to Lindsey. Neither one of us will read it, you just have to send it.”

“Um, okay.” I knew there had to be more. She didn’t disappoint.

“Here’s the catch. You will immediately delete the file from your hard drive. The next day, pick up where you left off and keep going.”

My heart nearly stopped. My crippling Internal Editor was already screaming bloody murder. Write without the possibility of going back to fix mistakes? Yikes!

“You may not have the files back for editing until you hit 10k words,” she continued as if she had a perfect right to boss me around.

“I think I’m going to throw up,” I croaked.

“Trust me, this is going to work,” she said with a confidence I didn’t feel. At. All.

I hemmed and hawed for a few days. Then I opened a new document and started typing with only the vaguest idea of what the story was. Two hours later, I emailed the file to J.C., swallowed hard, and hit DELETE.

Then I went to bed, curled up in a fetal position and bawled like a baby.

Next day: Lather, rinse, repeat.

By day three, I found myself tentatively looking forward to my two hours of seat-of-the-pants writing time, even knowing that by the end I’d be a basket case. By day seven, I was writing on my laptop in the car, hauling it with me everywhere to cram in a few minutes here and there. And I have a first draft half-way finished. This has to be some kind of record for me, folks.

My talisman is a picture on my computer's destop of my Dad. He’s sitting in a boat, grinning and holding up a miniscule fish that’s not much bigger than the bait he caught it with. Even he understood that if you catch enough little fish, eventually you have a “mess”, which in Tarheel-speak means enough for a meal.

In other words, even baby steps eventually get you to your goal. So, step by painful baby step, I’m emerging from the numbness.

And it’s all due to the friends who have my back. Everyone should be so lucky.

Carolan Ivey
Romance that will haunt you…

Web site ~ Blog ~ Twitter ~ Facebook ~ Myspace

Ever wonder what it would be like to become someone new?

Have you ever wondered what it would be like to simply start over? Become someone new. No doubt, everyone at one time or another has speculated. But what if your life depended on it? Would you be willing to leave everything behind in order to survive?

Well, that's the subject of my upcoming, July 14th release from Linden Bay Romance , entitled Worth Staying For.

For Doctor Jordan Scott, the most dangerous place to be in love.

Dr. Jordan Scott thought she knew her fiancé, Caesar, better than anyone…until Detective Riley Donovan confronts her with the truth about her brother’s death. His murder was no random act of violence—and Caesar is the prime suspect, which puts her directly in the path of danger. Their relationship may be strained, but Jordan can’t believe Caesar lied when he claimed he’d severed all ties with his drug cartel family.Riley has seen enough to know that Jordan is telling the truth, despite what his partner believes. Then again, his instincts aren’t exactly on point when it comes to Jordan. He’s already broken two hard-and-fast rules when it comes to witness protection: never get emotionally involved and never fall for your star witness.Now the trick will be to keep her alive long enough to convince her to trust him—and find the truth behind her brother’s murder. Before she becomes the next victim.Warning: Contains a hero to die for, one courageous leading lady, lots of heart-pounding action, and a rollercoaster ride of emotion.

Read an excerpt:

Check out all of my latest releases at:

http://www.maryeason.com/

All the best...

Mary Eason