Helping Out A Friend

Lacey Thorn has a new release today. She is an author and a friend. Her computer took a vacation to OZ and hasn't come back. So with apologies to Anita, who is another friend, (and whose blog is previous and you should really read cause she has some interesting insights) I am just going to say:

READ Lacey Thorn's FANNING HER FLAMES. Be sure to have lots of iced tea handy cause it is one HOT Summer Read.

And now for something completely different ...

For Monty Python fans the above line will bring back fond memories. One of my favourites is the Dead Parrot skit with John Cleese returning a dead parrot to the shop and Michael Palin insisting the parrot isn't dead, it's sleeping. Brilliant writing. Brilliant comedy. Brilliant actors.

Which brings me not to brilliant writing - I liked the last post about characters who muscle in on us when we're writing. Happens to all of us, but my blog today is about birds and other little creatures. I'm putting a question to you goddesses and the first one who sends me the correct answer will receive a prize. Not a huge prize. I haven't decided what it will be but it will be something relating to Vancouver Island.

Back to parrots and my question. Where is the World Famous Parrot refuge located? I put the question out on my blog but no one seems to read my blog. How do you lure readers to your blog? That's another question. No prize but send your answers anyway.

A writing comment. I've written 16,000 words of what I thought would be a straight forward romance set in Cornwall, England. However, it has changed its focus to dark and dangerous. Do any of you remember the film, The Manchurian Candidate? My book has taken on those kinds of overtones. Brain washing. Controlling another person. My heroine needs me!

Back to birds, etc. There were seven gold finches on our feeder this morning. Gold finches don't hang around Victoria during the summer. We observe them when they drop in to feed on their way north in the spring, and on their way south in the fall. I've done a lot of bird watching in my time especially when I lived in Toronto. It's on a huge migration corridor. We had large trees in our garden and it was a treat to identify the various warblers that came by.

BIG ANNOUNCEMENT. Hear the drum rolls and the bagpipes skirling. My contemporary romance with a paranormal twist, ISABELLE'S DIARY, will be released on September 6th, that's next Wednesday. I still haven't managed to copy my book covers to this blog or my own blog. Sigh.

Can you believe it's the last day of August? Where has the summer gone? Sounds like a song or the title for a book. Must run. I have household tasks screaming for attention.

Anita
www.anitabirt.com

Strong Characters and Their Authors

Writers. If we were not writing we may be called schizophrenic.

Writers, Authors of fiction, are continuously assaulted, approached, and visited by people from other times, other places, other worlds.

Take my friend Kelly for example. http://www.kkirch.blogspot.com/ She had a character - a potential character - called Seth visit her. He simply intruded. He made a pass at her and demanded that she put aside her other work and write his story.

My character Morgan Taj Zephyrain demanded that she be allowed to teach him a lesson. Well, I interpreted it she wanted to interview him. She has a mind of her own as well.

As I write this she is inviting him to a brawl.

So, as this interview went on - the author pulled the plug. Or maybe Seth did. He wants his own story, not a fight with some amazon woman.

So, my point? I read the definition of a writer once. It was this --

Someone who has voices constantly going in their heads. Someone who lives in this world but resides in hundreds maybe thousands of others. Someone who may be confused by trying to find the car keys, but who can carry tons of information and several conversations in their heads at a time. And to quote Amarinda Jones:

"Writers are scary arsed people. If they are sitting at a computer with a glazed look in their eyes, with half open junk food packets and smudged specs perched on their nose, back away slowly."AMARINDA JONEShttp://www.amarindajones.blogspot.com/

Aloha!

I've just returned from an incredible 9-day trip to the island of Maui. (The excuse was my nephew's wedding.) The traveling there and back was exhausting, but worth every tedious minute. The sea, the sunshine and the welcoming atmosphere were everything I'd ever dreamed.

Now traveling with my father, my brother, and my two teenage sons made this a less than romantic getaway, though my husband certainly did his best to sneak in as much romance as possible under the circumstances. So there was a little private time mixed between the snorkeling, sight-seeing, shopping and surfing lessons. We absolutely have to go back sometime once the kids are grown.

But now I'm home and it's time to get back to work. Projects to finish, edits to make, and websites to update. To my surprise, I didn't write much of anyting at all on the trip, but I don't think the time was wasted. I'm relaxed, refreshed, and ready to write. My brain was soaking it all in, accumlating settings and ideas and people. You can definitely look forward to a book set in Hawaii sometime soon. Happily ever after in the island sun. I'm thinking a surfing instructor and an uptight midwestern tourist...

From Wishes to Reality

I just returned home from a weekend away at my niece's 4th birthday party and realized it was my turn to blog. Oops!

I've reached some great writing milestones recently. My second Ellora's Cave book, I Put a Spell on You released July 13th. My first Cerridwen Press book, Best Laid Plans, released August 16th. I just finished writing another story for EC, tentatively titled Mystic Circle and I found out that my third EC book, Ronan's Grail will be released November 14th.

These are all wonderful accomplishments and I'm thrilled, but this week I accomplished something even greater. All my niece wanted for her birthday was a Dorothy Gale (Wizard of Oz) costume complete with the ruby slippers. I have Target.com to thank for the ruby slippers, but I sewed the blouse, jumper and bows from a pattern I designed by watching youtube videos trying to get the costume just right. (Yeah, I'm a little OCD about costuming) ;)

I stayed up late (did I mention I'm a procrastinator?) broke three needles, and sewed for hours. I was tired, but when my niece opened it and I saw the look on her face, it was worth any frustration and more. She threw her little arms around my neck and said, "You made all my wishes come true."

I guess that's what I like most - making wishes come true - whether it's for the characters in my stories or the children in my life. I have the most amazing job, family and friends in the world and I wouldn't trade a thing.

Anticipation

Anticipation is supposed to make what we are waiting for all the better.

When we were kids and our parents told us we were going to "Disneyland" or whatever the special kids place was at the time, we would be all a-twitter with ANTICIPATION. We couldn't sleep. We didn't want to eat or do homework or even play. We wanted the promised trip.

As adults, maybe our anticipation was based on a wedding, a promotion, a new car, kids, all sort of things. But the ANTICIPATION thing was still desiring for the THING to be completed.

That is where I am right now. My novel Prophecy of Vithan released in August. Now I know there have been some sales. The people who bought the book have told me. But I am now in the thrall of ANTICIPATION waiting for the report that tells me how many books total I have sold.
You see, if I have sold a lot, then that means that people like my book. If I sold only a few, then that means I have a few friends that bought my book out of pity.

I really really want to know. Do people like my book?

For a taste, (and if you like what you read, you can be one of my fans by buying my book hint hint) Here is an excerpt:

"God, I want to." Len whispered. "I want to be inside of you so bad I can taste it. Not simply to take care of the erection they gave me, I want to make you completely mine. I want to be part of you. I want to know you so completely, I finish your sentences."
Morgan struggled to get loose. Len held her easily. She strained against his hands. He was much stronger than she realized. Morgan glared at Len. Her heart pounded wildly, with his body on top of her. Every inch of her body touched him. Morgan wanted Len inside of her. She wanted to pummel him. She wanted to hold him. Morgan wanted to strangle Len. She tried to get her legs free, to kick him. Len shifted. Pinning her with his legs holding hers. Len's desire touched Morgan. She shivered. She tried to raise her hips to him.
"If you want to, then why not? Why -" Tears of frustration, of hurt threatened to spill down Morgan's cheeks. "I don't understand."
Len leaned down, his lips brushed against Morgan's lips.
Len cursed. "I can't stay on top of you like this. I'll mess up for sure. I'm going to let you go. Beat the crap out of me. Maybe it will kill the need I have for you."
Len let go of Morgan's wrists. He rolled off her. He lay flat on the floor, his arm covering his eyes in a defeated, exhausted manner. He grimaced as his sore back touched the wood. Len inhaled deeply. Morgan sat. She watched Len use his breathing and a healing technique to relax his body.
He's using healing techniques he learned from my father? Could he have been the familiar presence I sensed in the throne room?
"Mess up? What are you talking about?" Morgan asked.
"Anthes called me. I got the same information from my father, although he didn't realize it. If I have sex with you before the eclipse and before you do your warrior thing, the world will end. My father wants me to gain my power and to nullify you. Beat me, or kill me. Kill me would be better. Put me out of my misery. I will not have sex with you." Len paused. "I want you so bad."
Morgan crawled over to Len. She looked at the cameras and wondered what the watchers thought.
Len peeked from under his arm and followed her gaze.
"They're off. I finally agreed to come in here if they gave us some privacy. That's when they stopped beating me. Nathe promised the cameras would be off. I figured the only way I could refuse to screw you would be if they didn't know."
"You would deny yourself to save people you don't know?" Morgan said softly. She reached out to touch Len. Morgan withdrew her hand.
"I know, it's not the Protector thing to do…"
"Len, look at me." Morgan looked at the man beside her. Len lowered his arm. He winced as his back complained. "I have never been with a man who would forsake sex for anything. You are willing to sacrifice your pleasure," Morgan looked at Len's bruised face, "And your health to help others. I think it is wonderful. It makes me love you all the more."
"Love me? Did you say you love me?" Len asked.
"Yes. I assumed you knew." Morgan said.
"Why would I know? Do you know I love you?"
"I hoped. Do you, because so far all you've talked about is lust."
"Weren't you listening? I said -" Len started.
"Enough talk." Morgan bent her head over Len. She started coaxing Len out of relaxation.
"Stop that!" Len pushed Morgan away from him. "Didn't you hear what I said? Did they drug you or something?"
"They did. Mine was a pill. I didn't take it." Morgan crawled back to Len. She let her training take over. She came forward like a wild cat, slinking lazily toward him. Her eyes devoured him. Her mouth opened slightly. She licked her lips, promising more.
Len sat and pushed himself away from her. "Will you stop? You're driving me crazy."
"Good. I want you crazy for me." Morgan got on her knees. She swayed her hips in a large circle, undulating in front of Len. She smiled a wicked little smile. Morgan raised her arms over her head, drawing her fingers over her arm until one hand reached for the ceiling, the other hand touching her shoulder. The hand on her shoulder continued its movement over her breast, pausing a moment. She circled her fingers lightly around the nipple, making it stand erect. She licked her lips, watching Len squirm.
"Morgan…please."
Morgan dropped to all fours. She crawled over to Len. His back to the wall, his legs outstretched. She crawled over his legs, letting her breasts glide over his chest. Morgan came face to face with Len. She nibbled his neck. Her tongue flicked the outer edges of his ear. Len moaned. He inhaled raggedly trying to keep his composure.
Morgan put her mouth close to Len's ear. She blew gently. She knew the delicate hairs in Len's ear would respond to her breath by giving his shivers of delight. "Len," Morgan said with a husky whisper. "Anthes has the translation wrong. I don't have to be a virgin.


Charlene Leatherman, Prophecy of Vithan by Cerridwen Press,
released August 2, 2007
Defeating the villain, destroying the monster, delivering the hero, and never breaking a nail. www.charleneleatherman.com

Satisfaction Guaranteed in 2008

I've just received the release date for Satisfaction Guaranteed - January 3, 2008.

Here's the blurb:

Workaholic, accountant Elizabeth Sewell needs a man. According to her well-laid-out life plan, it’s time to find Mr. Right and move on to the next phase of her life--married with children. The problem is, she’s been so busy working her way up the career ladder, she won’t spot Mr. Right even if he’s carrying a neon sign. So, being an organized businesswoman, she comes up with a strategy. She’ll hire a man to teach her what she needs to know to get what she wants.

Disillusioned, attorney Jack Harley needs a distraction. He’s left behind a high-pressure job with a prestigious law firm in Houston, and he’s determined to get his life back on track by opening a private practice in Dallas. When a sexy brunette mistakes his new office for the recently relocated escort service, he’s stunned silent by her request for ‘a variety of men and experiences’. But when she asks him if he’s man enough to uncover what turns her on, he finds his voice in time to accept the challenge.

There's an excerpt on my web site www.isabelledrake.com.

A great way to start the year, isn't it!

Breathless

I was driving home at three o'clock (PCT) when it suddenly struck me - this is one of my days to Blog. I put on the kettle, made a cup of tea and here I am - no longer out of breath but catching up.

I am also waiting breathlessly for the appearance of Isabelle's Diary on September 6. Until it is actually out there I'll give you a little snippet of how it starts.

My heroine, Sally Carter, has stopped for a morning cup of coffee in the Celtic Cafe in Llandridod Wells, Wales. She notices a beautiful young woman dressed in somber Victorian black sitting alone at a window table weeping over the pages of a diary. When had the girl entered the cafe? Sally is puzzled. Why hadn't she noticed the girl walk past her table?

The stranger tucks the diary in her reticle and stands up. Unable to move under the girl's dark-eyed gaze Sally is disturbed by the waitress presenting the bill. When she looks up the girl has disappeared and the waitress insists that no one had sat at the window table all morning.

Ghost? A figment of Sally's imagination? My cover is up at Cerridwen Press. I think it's beautiful.

Anita
www.anitabirt.com

Meet the hot, mysterious Noah Cantrell

He's the hero of my lates Ellora's Cave release, WHERE DANGER HIDES. Taylor Scott is trying to deal with her life being turned upside down when she meets a dark, mysterious strangeer and has the hottest ight of sex she's ever had. Three months later he walks nto ehr office, a representative of her late father and the only man who can help her navigate the world of high finance and international intrigue into which she's suddenly thrust. Will he be more of a threat to her than the danger lurking around every corner?

A commotion in the reception area broke her train of thought and drew her attention. She heard the voice of Sheila, the receptionist, raised in protest over something and the angrier male voice overriding her.
“You can’t go in there,” Sheila was saying as the door to Taylor’s office flew open.
“I’m in. Miss Scott can throw me out if she wants to.”
There he was, standing in front of her.
Him The Man.
She blinked hard, thinking for a moment she’d conjured up his image. But when she opened her eyes again he was still there. Alive. In her office. In full alpha mode. The man she’d never expected to see again. The man who’d taken her far beyond the boundaries set by her inhibitions and beckoned to her in her dreams each night.
He was even more impressive than she remembered, his presence filling her office and surrounding her. His custom suit and silk dress shirt—were they his uniform?—were window dressing for the barely leashed panther beneath the fabric of civilized clothing. Expensive hand-tooled leather boots on his feet. His hair tied back with a leather thong as before. His face still an unreadable mask. The sense of controlled power still there. A man larger than life. The panther was caged today but just barely. This might be her office but he was definitely the person in charge.
Even as embarrassment and anger warred within her, her nipples hardened, her breasts tingled and her panties dampened with moisture. She felt every bit of blood drain from her face and drop to her feet. Waves of hot and cold rolled through her and she was sure all the air had been sucked from her lungs. Gripping the arms of her desk chair for support she licked her lips, trying to moisten them.
Quick, lithe movements brought him to the front of her desk where he stood facing her, his face set, dark eyes probing hers. Eyes that for a brief second held a knowing look.
“Miss Scott?” Sheila’s worried voice cut through her fog. “Shall I call one of the partners?”
Taylor managed to find a functioning part of her brain. “No, thanks, Sheila. It’s all right.”
“Would you like me to send someone in to carry your boxes for you? Walk you down to the garage?” Sheila wasn’t quite ready to let go.
Taylor forced a smile. “No, I can manage. Thanks for your concern. And for all your good wishes today.”
Sheila gave her a last worried look before she closed the door.
His eyes burned into Taylor’s, mesmerizing her as they’d done that night in San Antonio.
What is he doing here?
As if he’d heard her, he reached into his inside jacket pocket, extracted a card from a small leather case and dropped it on top of the folder.
She picked it up with fingers that trembled and stared at it.
Noah Cantrell, Vice President of Security, Arroyo Corporation
Rage fired throughout her system, displacing the sexual hunger that threatened to explode the minute she saw him. She tossed the card back on the desk and curled her hands into fists. “You knew who I was all the time.”
He nodded, his face expressionless.
“You tracked me down at the hotel.”
Another nod.
Taylor wanted to pick something up and throw it at him but she refused to let him see how he affected her. A game. He’d been playing a game. What a fool she’d been. “Well. I’m sure I gave you an interesting story to take back to your employer.”
“I told him I’d checked you out and you didn’t seem like a hustler or scam artist.” His voice was flat, uninflected. “He knows nothing of what happened between us.”
“How very kind of you.” She was shaking inside, panic and desire clashing wildly. The only protective shield she has was the anger she needed to feed. She had to get him out of there.
His face was a mask of stoicism but his unfathomable eyes glittered. “What happened between us was private and personal. I wouldn’t discuss it with anyone.”
“I’ll just bet.” He was standing so close to her she could count his eyelashes.
“When I took you to bed I broke the trust of a man who was very good to me and who I respected—still respect—a great deal. I’ve been damned for it ever since. No matter how I try, I can’t get you out of my blood.”
She was staring at him, shocked by his words. Even in her most far-fetched dreams of him somehow finding her, she’d never expected the reality nor the harshness of the words he spat out. Before she could move his hands gripped her shoulders, he bent his head and pressed his mouth to hers in a blistering kiss. His tongue licked the seam of her lips, pressing, demanding she admit him. When she did he swept inside like a starving man seeking the last morsel of food. At length he released her, his eyes so heated she was sure his look alone would scorch her skin. Taylor stared at him, unable to move, her fingers touching her bruised lips, her body thrumming with desire.

And come visit me at my web site www.desireeholt.com

Boji Stones

Good morning, folks.

First of all I'd like to thank readers of The Crystal. I can't begin to tell you how much your support means.

Next,I'd like to mention that my second Cerridwen book, Boji Stones, will be released next month. It is about a modern day woman with a centuries old secret. Here is an excerpt, hope you enjoy:

His trembling fingers rested on the keyboard as he leaned toward the monitor, an uncontrollable twitch running through his misshapen body as he devoured the article with the greedy need of a child offered chocolate.
'Legend has it that out of all the mortals on earth five women found favor with the gods—
Sophia whose face was pitted and ravaged by pox,
Zoe a young queen whose village was razed and plundered and she herself taken as slave,
Pelagia who had the body of a woman and the mind of a child,
Olympia a poor widow with children to feed,
and
Helen, who’d lost four children to the plague and begged the gods to spare her remaining child.
Moved, the gods created five special amulets.
To Sophia they gave an amulet forged with beauty and creativity.
To Zoe an amulet forged with power.
To Pelagia an amulet forged with knowledge.
To Olympia an amulet forged with wealth.
And for Helen they forged a copper amulet with a beautiful amethyst at its center. Two plain stones the size of small coins flanked the amethyst. The female stone smooth, the male stone’s texture rough. Then they fused the amulet with healing.
Or so legend has it…'

A Man in Uniform

I’d intended to blog about my experiences as a member of the GRPD Citizen Police Academy, but recent, tragic events have changed the focus. Later this month, I'll blog about my ride along, taking bites from a couple police dogs and handling who knows how many millions of dollars worth of drugs but for now I’d like to talk a bit about a man in uniform.

Now, I know there are some women out there who really have a thing for a man in uniform, but I've never been that girl. Really. Always went for the artists or musicians. That being said, I'd like to say that I've discovered that I actually do have a thing for a man in uniform. And a woman in uniform.

No, I haven't suddenly become a cop or firefighter groupie - but believe me those women are out there. I enrolled in the Grand Rapids Police Department's Citizen Police Academy and let me tell you, I learned a lot. I can see those of you who know me shaking your heads or outright pointing and laughing at me. I'll admit, I'm not the likeliest candidate for this sort of thing, but I'm so glad I did it. I had taken the course for research purposes, but I came away with so much more.

The course was designed to educate the public about how our local law enforcement operates. I’ve never met a more dedicated group of men and women – officers who love what they do. To Serve and Protect isn’t just a catchy phrase to these men and women. It’s a way of life – a code of honor if you will.

You might be thinking, but Bronwyn, I’ve met/heard about police officers who were real jerks. Well, I’ve met some of those officers, too – more than once. (NOT at the GRPD I’d like to point out.) The truth is there are asshats in every profession - lawyers, doctors, writers, actors, computer programmers – well you get the idea. But after meeting and talking with so many of these people I’m here to tell you that these officers genuinely love what they do and they do it because they want to make a difference.

These are people who have families and friends who love them. They have spouses and significant others with whom they argue and make up. They have kids who want to see them come home. They are people who get cranky, who like a good joke, who get frustrated about the price of gas, who worry about how their kids are doing in school, who are planning weddings and taking care of aging parents - people who are human - just like the rest of us. But they’re also people who are held to a higher standard and people who will risk their lives for you – whether they know you or not.

In a lot of ways, I think being a cop can be a rather thankless job. They break up parties, write tickets and occasionally piss people off – people generally aren’t thrilled to be stopped by a cop or have one show up at their house. However, when these same people need assistance, they want an officer five minutes ago. These men and women risk their lives every time they take a call. They never know what they’re going to find when they reach a scene or pull over a car.

Recently, in Indiana, a state trooper was murdered by a man he’d pulled over for a routine traffic stop. Even more recently, here in Grand Rapids, Officer Bobby Kozminski was ambushed and murdered while securing the perimeter at a domestic disturbance call. I didn’t know Officer Kozminski, but my heart aches for his family, friends and colleagues.

In very real sense, he died protecting every single citizen of this city. Race, creed, orientation - none of those things mattered. A family needed help so he responded. The officers of the GRPD will respond no matter the risk to themselves. Sadly, Officer Kozminski made the ultimate sacrifice.

When it comes to law enforcement, so often the media focuses on only the negative. Let’s face it, there are some situations that have gotten horribly out of control – Rodney King, anyone? But the positive things officers do every single day are overlooked unless there’s a newsworthy tragedy attached. I encourage you to get to know your local law enforcement – if they have a program like the citizen’s police academy, take it. You’ll be amazed by the things you’ll learn. At least take the time to tell them thanks.

I’d like to publicly thank Lt. Mark Ostapowicz and Sgt. John Dorer for taking the time to run such a wonderful class. I’d also like to thank Field Training Officer Gretchen Galloway for patiently putting up with me and all my questions for a whole twelve hour shift as well as Police Chief Harry Dolan for running an awesome department. And a final thank you to Officer Bobby Kozminski who gave his life to help others.

Here and There

Last month I was in Dallas at RWA’s national conference, this month I’m in Manistee, Michigan, one of northern Michigan’s vacation hot spots.

Here’s Dallas: Up at 7am, iron clothes, makeup, hair. Wish for coffee, but don’t have time to wait in line at coffee shop. Ride train thing (I’m sure it has a name but I never took the time to figure it out) through town to conference hotel, meet with somebody to discuss book biz, sit up straight while having biz lunch with somebody else, learn new stuff at workshops. Sign books. Look around for Texas cowboys, see none, feel disappointed. Zip to dinner, catch up with friends, laugh, have fun, look for cowboys, again see none, go to bed.

Here’s Manistee: Up at 10am, put on wrinkled t-shirt and shorts, pull hair back. Drink coffee while slouching on porch swing and watching trees bend in wind. Ride bike for a couple hours. Sneak laptop outside so my DH won’t know I’m working while on vacation. Write for a while. Eat dinner on a paper plate. Go swimming with kids. Laugh, have fun, watch cowboys on tv, go to bed.

Contrasting exepriences are great for writing. Sort of like a life-size bingo ball tank, they tumble you around, shake you up, and get you to see stuff in new ways.

I know, vacations are supposed to be a time away from thinking, but—oh geez—here comes my DH to pull me away from the library computer…

Don't forget the 5 senses

I recently read a mainstream romance (author/title shall remain nameless) and I feel cheated!

Why? Because the author, who has several books out and good reviews, forgot all about one of the most delightful senses - smell. That's right, the author never once mentioned what things smelled like during the h/h pov. I couldn't believe she'd missed this valuable tool for describing the world she'd created for her characters. There is a fabulous scene involving a camp fire. The author describes the heat from the flames (touch), she describes the crackle and snaps of burning wood (sound), the dancing red and gold color of the flames (sight), and the flavor of rainbow trout cooked over that fire (taste). But what about the SMELL of the smoke? What about the smell of that fish as it's being cooked? What about the smell of the pine forest they're hiding out in? It made me wonder if the author had ever *really* cooked a fish over an open fire or spent time out in the woods.

It takes all 5 senses to bring a book to life. The author didn't need to spend paragraphs on this, just a little clue to animate the reader's brain and make them (in this case - me!) believe the scene.

As an author I strive to keep the senses alive and fresh for my readers. That's what makes the characters and the story seem REAL. Use them all and don't let your readers feel cheated.

Sight, sound, smell, taste, and touch. They are all equally valuable tools in an author's repetoire.

~Rita Sable

Hot issues

Yikes! I just realized it was my day to post. And, miracles of miracles, I was able to sign in on my first try. Of course, it helps if you check the "Remember Me" box.

Well, I am still trying to get through all of the emails that have been flying back and forth since the RWA conference. It is my first time on the PAN ("Published Author Network") lists and boy, I wonder if the posts have always been this HOT! I seriously doubt it. The main issues are what publishers are eligible to get free space at the conference, which authors are PAN eligible, and what is the definition of "erotic romance."

As readers, I'm sure it is that last one that matters to you. What do you think of when you hear the term, "erotic romance?" Or, in the case of Ellora's Cave authors, "Romantica." since that is a copyrighted term for EC only. Is it the explicitness of the sex scenes or the number of them in the book? Is it the type of sex -- menage (m/m/f, m/f/m), BDSM, shape shifters? How do you come up with a definition that encompasses all the various forms and degrees of "heat" involved in erotic romance?

No matter what your own personal definition might be, IMHO, erotic romance is going to be around for a long time. I am proud to write it. And I am glad all of you read it.

Until next time,
Kate Poole

Book on the Way

The book on the way is Isabelle's Diary, release date, September 6th. I have the cover and am still puzzling over how to send the cover to our blog. My helpful friend, Solveig, is out of town for a week so I'll await her return. Her magical touch will solve the mystery of transferring covers to blogs.

Sorry I'm so late blogging. It's 2.28 pm PCT. I've had one of those mornings when I hardly had time to catch my breath before before I had to go and do something else. However, here I am and right now I'm hoping to copy the Blurb for Isabelle's Diary to our blog. Don't hold your breath!

WHEE! It worked but the paragraphs haven't indented. If I touch it the whole thing it might disappear in a puff of smoke.

On a sunny June morning in Llandrindod Wells, Sally Carter stops for coffee at the Celtic Café and notices a beautiful young woman dressed in somber Victorian black sitting at a window table weeping over the pages of a diary. When the girl disappears without a trace and the waitress insists the table had been vacant all morning, Sally is compelled to discover the girl’s identity.

Unraveling the mystery leads Sally on a wild goose chase with the assistance of Dr. Dan Conway, a handsome Welsh history professor, but it’s not until she returns home to Toronto that the final pieces of the puzzle falls into place.

Even then the question lingers. Why was Sally the only person to see the girl?

***

That's the back cover blurb to interest readers in rushing to CP and purchasing my book. To this day Sally isn't sure whether she saw a ghost or it was a figment of her imagination. She's forty-two years old, divorced with two young adult children. She's been on a walking holiday in Wales when she stops at the cafe for coffee. A life changing event. One minute she was planning to explore the old spa town, the next minute she was chasing after the ghostly girl.
But the girl disappears.

***

Can ghosts appear in broad daylight in a sunlit cafe?

How did I come up with the idea for Isabelle's Diary? My husband and I were on a walking holiday in mid-Wales and stopped for coffee in a cafe in Llandrindod Wells. A young woman dressed in old fathioned black clothes sat at a window table drinking a Coke. She kept looking out the window as if expecting someone.

That was it. I imagined a girl dressed in black sitting at the window table weeping over the pages of a diary. She is a ghost - and my story kicked off from there.

Watch for Isabelle's Diary. The sequel, Isabelle's Story will be released on December 27th. It's the story of the girl who wrote the diary.

I loved writing both stories. I loved the mystery I created. But what the heck, I love all my stories that's the pleasure of being a writer.

Anita Birt
www.anitabirt.com

Can you see me? I'm Dancing!

Can you see me? I'm drinking virtual champagne and eating virtual strawberries and dancing in the street.

Why?

My novel PROPHECY OF VITHAN is available to buy today. Yup, you can go to http://www.cerridwenpress.com and buy Prophecy of Vithan.

Today I have chatted and interviewed and watched my my head spin around and around. All because my book is now on sale.

Can you tell I am jazzed?

Here’s a look at Prophecy of Vithan, my August 2 release from Cerridwen Press!

Blurb:
Morgan doesn’t have time for marriage. She has to rescue the prince and save the galaxy. Len, the man she was forced to marry and her attraction to him, simply gets in the way. Morgan has to put aside her distrust and convince Len to help her rescue the boy she loves as a son.

Lead into to excerpt: Rated PG - 13

Excerpt:
"Going somewhere?" The man in white, Len Braxton, stood leaning against the door jam, arms crossed over his chest.
Morgan put her hand to her chest.
"Need alcohol." Morgan gasped. "Low blood alcohol level."
"Really? Hildai 37 zeta 845 beta delta 599 unit 2, what is Morgan's blood alcohol level?"
"I prefer Hildai, only. The rest is so pretentious." A mechanical voice said from inside Len's pocket.
"Answer the question, you annoying piece of junk."
"Ninety-eight percent."
"Does she need a drink?" Len asked.
"Only if she wants to forget you, you pompous ass." Hildai said. "Sorry, Morgan. He overwrote my programming."
"Where did you get her?" Morgan demanded.
"Your room. I met the technician there. Very clever getting him out of the way. I'm not clear how you shut down the shield without setting off the alarms."
"I know the codes." Morgan lied. "I'm an escaping Sonij slave. Quite a reward. Are you going to turn me in?"
"No. I'm not interested in rewards. Seems the Royals are having a dinner party tonight. Some bigwig coming and you're to be extra special pretty tonight.” Len looked Morgan up and down. For some reason, Morgan felt self-conscious in her jeans and leather jacket. “I came to escort you to the harem."
"Harem?" Morgan's throat constricted. She tried to keep the alarm out of her voice. She failed.
"Is this fear I see on your face? I thought all female Sonij slaves are comfortable in brothels or harems." Len said sarcastically.
Morgan swung at Len. He stepped out of reach and held his hands in surrender.
"I'm not fighting with you again. I have several badly bruised ribs to mend before I do. If you get nasty, I'll simply put you out." Len pulled a phaser from his pocket.
Morgan shrugged. "Get the med-tech to heal you. You have your disk, don't you?"
"The ribs will heal on their own. Besides, I don't have a disk."
"A Protector without a disk?" Morgan shook head in disbelief. "Tell you what. I'll be good. But,"
"OK," Len interrupted. "Let's go to the harem."
"But," Morgan continued, "First I want to check on Khai. I'm concerned about him."
"No. You were accused of trying to kill him."
"I was exonerated." Morgan said firmly.
"The answer is no. Let's go to the harem." Len said. He waved the phaser in the direction he wanted Morgan to go.
Morgan raised her fists. "Do you know anything about Sonij physiology? We are a strong race. Phaser shot does not affect us as it does others." Morgan lied. "When I reach you, I’ll hammer your ribs. I don't know much about human anatomy. Do the ribs house anything vital?"
"Okay, you win, but I stay with you and the boy at all times." Len agreed.
Morgan lowered her hands. "Call him and ask him to meet me in the armory workout area. I promised him a lesson."
"Call him? Why should I call him? You're linked to him."
"Only in emergencies." Morgan lied. She did not want this man to know she could not touch Khai's mind. "I prefer to give him his privacy."
"Cat told me she interrogated you. Any residual effects, like being unable to link with Khai?" Len asked.
"Unlike you Protectors, I will not invade someone's privacy."
Len looked at Morgan. She couldn't tell if he believed her or not.
"Back against the wall." Len motioned with the phaser. "I want to check for weapons."
"You know I don't have any weapons on me. You searched me before you put me in here."
Len motioned with the phaser again. Morgan sighed. She backed away from the Protector. She put her hands behind her head and spread her legs, her back against the wall. Len pocketed the phaser. He walked to Morgan. He put his hand behind her neck, searching for a knife. Morgan breath came a little quicker. Len stood slightly taller than she did. She could smell the cologne he wore. Len stood close enough for his cheek to brush hers. Morgan closed her eyes to keep from going cross-eyed. Fantasy images of her and Len drifted in her mind. Len edged himself between her legs, forcing her feet wider. Morgan, startled, opened her eyes. The Protector pinned her against the wall, holding her wrists against the back of her neck.
Len leaned in and kissed her on the mouth. Hard. Morgan struggled to get loose. Len tightened his grip on her arms. He kissed her again. Morgan's knees weakened after the second kiss. She wanted to wrap her arms around Len and keep him there. She felt desire rising in her. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach. Her mind swirled with emotion.
With his other hand, Len slipped a black collar around her throat. The collar snapped on.
Rage curled in Morgan's mind, pushing every other emotion. She wanted to scream. She let herself be caught by the mind control of a Protector, so he could put a slave collar on her. Morgan glared at Len.
Morgan saw the look in his eyes. The kiss affected him, too. Len looked visibly shaken. He swallowed and composed himself.
She shut off her emotions. She willed her eyes to blank. He's a Protector, she reminded herself. She wanted nothing to do with Protectors, especially this Protector. Her only concern must be Khai. She needed to talk to him. The broadsword lesson would be good cover.
Gaining control, Len grinned lewdly. He released Morgan and stepped out of punching and kicking range.
"I'm a slave." Morgan said, irritated with the man. "You're a freeman. You could have told me to put on the collar. You could have ordered me to kiss you, or fuck you. Was the kiss enough? Do you want to have sex? You can have me before the guest arrives. I am a Sonij slave. I am used to brothels and harems. Isn't that what you said? Well, Protector, do you want to fuck before I check on Khai, before I'm ordered to pleasure the guests?"
"Knock it off." Len said, angrily, coloring with embarrassment.


Get your copy of Prophecy of Vithan at www.cerridwenpress.com on August 2!

Charlene Leatherman, Prophecy of Vithan by Cerridwen Press, released August 2, 2007Defeating the villain, destroying the monster, delivering the hero, and never breaking a nail

It's Here!

Beltaine Bargain is being released today from the wonderful people at The Wild Rose Press. It is a Faery Miniature Rose, which means it is a paranormal short story. It is also my first ever historical piece, so I'm doubly excited about this one. Get your copy today at www.thewildrosepress.com

Blurb:
Rhodri of Llyan has returned from the Crusades a cursed man. On the way home to Wales, a young friend is sorely injured, and Rhodri seeks the aid of village healer, Selene, whose gift for healing is as uncanny as her beauty. Can Selene’s magic find a way to break the curse, and heal the wounds on his heart? And what price will she demand for her help? Can he meet her Beltaine Bargain?

Excerpt:

Inexorably, the new moon approached, no more than four or five days away by his estimation. The power and hunger coiled and rolled in his belly, throbbed in his manhood when he thought of Selene. He wanted her more than he ever had any woman. Even Zara. His wife.

He stripped off his tunic as he approached the stream, folding it and laying it on a mossy patch of ground. He hadn’t bothered with tabard or surcoat while staying with Selene, the formal trappings seemed to have no business in this tiny pocket of paradise. He tugged off his boots and sat them alongside his sword belt and bow. He’d never seen another soul by the gentle river, but he’d grown too wary in his years to allow his weapons to be far out of reach. With one last look around, he pulled off his braes and waded into the chilly current.

The splashing sound took him by surprise, as did the startled, “oh!” that followed it. The noise came from just around the bend in the stream, so Rhodri waded over to see who it was, peeking cautiously around the tall weeds that hid the next section of river.

He stood frozen at the sight that met his gaze, his jaw hanging, and eyes unblinking. Holy Mother of God, it was Selene. She was bending over with her back to him, but he’d know that delicious rump anywhere. Only now it was hidden by naught but a thin layer of wet linen, which molded to every curve and dip of her flesh.

“There you are!” She stood, clutching the cake of soap that she must have dropped moments earlier. She hummed in her endearingly off-key voice as she began to soap one tiny white foot that she lifted in front of her. He must have made a sound, because she shrieked, and whirled to look at him. But she must have forgotten she stood on one foot, because with another cry, she toppled into the water.

Rhodri wasn’t sure he’d ever moved faster, even in the midst of a battle. He practically flew to her side, drew her sputtering face above the surface, then held her close as she coughed.

“Rhodri!” Her pearly skin reddened as she realized who held her. “You startled me!”

“I’m sorry, sweeting. Can you breathe yet?” He watched her anxiously for signs of harm.

“I’m fine.” She brushed her wet hair back from her face with one hand, still clinging to his chest with the other. To his immense relief, her breathing began to return to normal.

But his own lungs were still heaving, his heart pumping furiously. It had finally occurred to him that they were standing in each other’s arms, with only a thin scrap of cloth between their wet, naked bodies. He nearly staggered as every last drop of blood left his head for places south.

“Oh my!” Selene’s soft, gentle hand began tracing the lines of his chest, the planes of his ribs. She gripped one shoulder as though testing its strength before sliding in a slow, sensuous stroke down the muscles of his arm. Her tiny pink tongue darted out to moisten her rosebud lips, and her breath had speeded up again, almost matching the ragged pace of his own.

“Selene!” Her name was all he could groan before he gave into the need, and allowed his hungry lips to crush down on hers. She must not have minded, because she tightened her grip on his waist and shoulder, then rose to her tiptoes to meet his kiss. Rhodri was lost then, and he wrapped his arms round her slender waist, pulling her body even tighter against his.