Wednesday's the Day!!!

When Diamond Lady makes her appearance at Ellora's Cave. Another hot tale from the melting pen of Desiree Holt.


Didn't you ever want a handsome, sexy, intriguing man to just sweep you off your feet and treat you to a night of exotic, erotic sex? Anna Beloit lived sexual adventures vicariously through the books she read in the book store she owned. But she was tired of only experiencing life on paper, tired of the routine she lived, tired of the boring men who had no idea what eroticism was. She wanted a grand adventure of her own, one that would fulfill every one of her erotic fantasies. An expert in the art of sensual love, wealthy and powerful, Dominic Fellini could have any woman he wanted. But from the moment he spotted Anna, he wanted to claim her for his own, to teach her the sexual heights she could achieve with him. Then Fate and her sister’s wedding brought them together, and in one night Dominic took her on the sexual ride of her life. But would one night be enough for these two lovers?

What she really wanted was to ditch this stupid, boring party and put a little excitement in her life. What she needed was an adventure, with a handsome stranger like those in the erotic romances she read when business was slow. One who would help her live out the fantasies that were still just images in her mind.
Fantasies that would shock the hell out of the very proper Beloits, who saw Anna as a recalcitrant child, even at thirty, who need to be brought to heel.
“Damn them. They can all go to hell,” she whispered to herself, impulsively throwing the crystal champagne flute into the bushes.
“I didn’t expect when I came outside that I’d be taking a shower.” The voice was deep and husky startling her with its nearness.
Anna stumbled backward as a tall, well-muscled man in an impeccably cut tuxedo stepped from behind the shrubbery where she’d thrown her glass.
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry.” She continued to back away, shaking, as the man moved forward. “I’m angry and acting like a brat, paying no attention to what I’m doing.”
He threw back his head and laughed, a low rumbling sound. “Anger is good, if properly controlled.” He looked at her from head to toe with experienced eyes. “But I see more than anger in your eyes. I see fire and passion.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“If you want to keep away from the light, which it seems you do, I’d stop backing up right about there.”
She nearly tripped over her own feet trying to move back into the shadows. “Who are you, anyway? And what are you doing hiding out here in the shrubbery? Wait, I know you. I’ve seen you at other functions that are part of this bizarre ritual my parents are conducting.” She shook her head. “I have, haven’t I?”
He nodded.
“How do you stand it? Lord. If I have to go to one more party like this and smile at one more jerk-head, I think I’ll scream.”
“Not my cup of tea, either but I do business with the groom’s law firm. I guess that put me on the permanent guest list.” His eyes hypnotized her, so dark and dangerous. “But I have had my eye on you for a long time, Anna Beloit.
“Y-You know who I am?” She smacked her forehead. “What a dummy I am. Of course you do, if you’ve been coming to all these duck walks.”
He laughed again. “Duck walks. An appropriate name for these events.” He winked at her. “Your name is not all that I know. But not nearly as much as I wish to discover.”
“You want to learn more about me?” She could hardly believe that this very sexy, very mysterious man, would rather go off with her than one of the glamorous females in Shari’s entourage.
He pinned her with his gaze. “But of course, cara. You are the woman of my dreams.”
Her jaw dropped. “Me?”
“That surprises you? I don’t know why it should. You’re a beautiful woman, full of hidden fire.” His mouth shaped itself in a slow, sexy smile. “I would love the chance to bring that fire to life.”
Anna shivered as delicious images raced through her mind, images from the pages of the erotic novels she read in a corner of her bookstore. “I-I don’t know what to say.”
“Say nothing. Just tell me you’d like the same thing.”

Come see me at www.desireeholt.com

Buy this book at www.ellorascave.com

Stone of Cruento

Stone of Cruento is my latest book. I don't have a cover yet. I don't have a release date yet.

However, you have an excerpt. It is unedited.

Stone of Cruento coming soon to Cerridwen Press

Claren sighed as she shifted from wolf to human. She had been able to catch some small animals as a wolf but she was not adept at hunting. Perhaps if she hunted with Daniel sometime she would learn the how-to of it. For now, it was a miserable success. She hated chewing through the fur and the skin to get to the blood that the vampire in her craved. She wanted to be back on Earth in a club where sophisticated girls offered their throats and bored men desired to be bitten by her. All she saw as she pounced on a skittering animal was scenes from animated movies of singing deer and prancing rabbits.
She had roamed quite a way from where Vion and Theesal were encamped. She was still craving blood so it was not safe to go back until she was sated. She found a spring of blood water flowing between some boulders and stopped to drink. She was tired of Cruento. She wanted to be back on Earth pre-vampire where all she had to worry about was what stylish suit to wear to work and how to avoid her boss’s groping hands.
Kneeling down Claren scooped some of the blood water to her mouth. She could see her reflection in the water. Taking another scoop, her reflection changed from her face to that of a tall thin man with an angular face and antennae coming out of his head.
“We think you should come with us,” the man said.
Claren looked around. She didn’t see anyone else.
“I’m just leaving. I stopped for a drink,” Claren said as she stood. She could shift into wolf form or mist if necessary. She took a step away from the man.
“No,” a second man appeared at the other side of her. “We think you should come with us.”
Claren focused on misting. Nothing happened. She tried to shift into wolf form. Nothing happened.
A third man shimmered out of the first man, like a Twilight Zone episode. “We have stopped you from doing anything that will keep you from coming with us. We think you should come with us.”
The third man touched Claren on the shoulder.
An electric sensation shot through her. Claren swayed, her vision getting blurry. She blinked trying to keep awake. Her eyes closed. She could feel herself falling. In the background she heard three voices speaking at the same time.
“This one is strong with power. She would have escaped if we had not blocked her powers. She will make a good queen.”

If you like what you read here, and you haven't read it already, you may like

Prophecy of Vithan also at Cerridwen Press.

Weather gods awake!

I decided to write about weather mostly because it's pouring rain in Victoria and snowing in Vancouver! On March 28th! Weather gods what are you playing it? This is spring time and we want it back the way it used to be. Remember? Oh dear, have you forgotten the rules? Or have you slipped into senility and left the world to its own devices.

Come on weather gods. Wake up! We want sunshine and roses and birds nesting and lambs bleating and all that good stuff that makes us happy. It's cold right across Canada and we don't deserve this. We are a pleasant peaceful nation ask anyone. Oh, you don't know where Canada is? Find a map! Look us up. Come visit.

Sorry this such a short blog - well I'm not really sorry, I'm rather tired being brilliant. I've been writing all day and it's almost time to get dinner ready and sip a glass of white wine with my husband.

To keep you all up to speed, my time travel, Ring Around The Moon will be released on April 8 by Cerridwen Press. Here's the cover.
For an excerpt drop by my web site, www.anitabirt.com

The weather isn't affecting those two is it?

Anita

Isaac Asimov Robotic Rules

One of the Kings of Science Fiction Isaac Asimov wrote three laws pertaining to robots.
The three laws are:


1) A robot may not injure a human being or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm.
2) A robot must obey orders given to it by human beings, except where such orders would conflict with the First Law.
3) A robot must protect its own existence as long as such protection does not conflict with the First or Second Law.

As a writer of science fiction you have to be willing to build on the inventions and the universal laws written by other people.

For instance, if I am writing about a device that takes a person apart at the molecular level and then reassembles them at a different location I could go thru that description over and over again ad nauseum or I could use the term coined in the Star Trek series -- transporter.

So as I am wandering around the Internet looking for something to blog about, I found a beginning of a thought about Asimov's Robotic Laws pertaining to every day items.

Asimov Laws of Robotics Applied to Materials

As Isaac Asimov famous laws of Robotics prevent robots from harming humans, imagine some examples of intelligent stuff like:

* spill-proof coffee: don't worry about your lovely white suede couch, if you spill intelligent coffee on it, the coffee will never reach the suede, its intelligent nano molecules will sense the imminent fall and quickly solidify midair, so you can put it back in your microwave oven to liquefy again.
* intelligent bullets will recognize VIP people and disintegrate before hitting them. This bullet-proof condition may be made reversed, like you are not more the President, so now bullets can hit you

These are copied as they were written.

Taking it a bit further:

1. The wrapper of the hamburger you just bought has nanobots embedded in it and determines that you are too heavy, or that you have had your full allotment of fat, meat, cheese and carbs for the day. As you go to take a bit, the wrapper disintegrates the hamburger and recommends you purchase a salad.
2. Your chair has nanobots and determines that you have been sitting too long for good health. It dumps you gently on the floor then chases you around the room until it determines your heart rate is up to an appropriate healthy cardiac rate.
3. You go to the library and are about to check out a book. The nanobots of your library card read your current state of mind and determine that the book you have chosen is not appropriate at this time. You are lonely so you need to read a romance. Your brain synapses are not firing quickly enough so you need to read a science journal. You are angry at so you need to read a pleasant comforting story. etc.

Maybe we should simply leave the nanobots and the robotic laws in the science fiction genre.

Charlene Leatherman,

Prophecy of Vithan - adventurous romance with a science fiction background. Available at www.cerridwenpress.com

What does your Muse say about you?

Every Author has a Muse. Every Painter, Sculptor, Dancer, Artist in every form may have a Muse, but I don't know for sure. I just know that Authors have Muses. I know this because I have a Muse and every author I have talked to has one.

I just read a delightful blog at http://tweenyouandme.blogspot.com/ about an author's dealing with a muse. You should stop by and read it.

But after reading about this author's muse, I got to wondering. What does the author's muse say about the author in terms of what the muse looks like?

Every Muse does about the same actions for every author. The muse inspires the author to create. More importantly the muse tortures the author. The muse whispers words of inadequacies and tells you how stupid you are to be writing this or that. The muse sits on your shoulder and prods you. The muse demands you pay for the creative ideas.

Every author knows about the struggle between author and muse.

But not every author has a muse that looks the same way. Some muses are beautiful, or elusive. Some muses are strong manly and courageous. Some are feminine shapely and exotic.

My muse is a gnarly gremlin. So what does that say about me?

Quarterly Review

So the end of the first quarter approaches and it’s time to take a look at my New Year’s To-Do List (I don’t do resolutions!) and see how much progress I’ve made…

8 Things to do in ‘08
This year I will…
___ make at least one brand new friend
___ reconnect with at least one old friend I’ve lost touch with
___ visit at least one place I’ve never seen before
___ try at least one totally new food
___ listen to at least one new kind of music
___ attempt at least one physical activity I’ve never tried
___ find at least one new way to volunteer
_X_ write at least one story that is totally out of my comfort zone

Ouch! Only accomplished one! Not good. Though hopefully the story is. I decided it was time to try writing a ménage, and I did. Had loads of fun with my Male elf/female elf/male demon story, tentatively titled, “Three for All,” or maybe “Missing Pieces.” Still waiting to hear back from my editor on it. So since that appears to be my only progress, want a taste? Here goes:

Excerpt: (A little steamy!)
Eislinn squirmed. Nothing like having two ex-boyfriends in one room. Especially when they were the two she’d never really gotten over. It was bad enough that both of them were in Philadelphia at the same time. Ever since Callum had shown up here a year ago, she’d wondered if he’d been following her. She could have lived a few more centuries without them getting together and ganging up on her. Unless—she felt her pussy clench. No, she was pretty sure that neither of them would ever go for it. They were both centuries-old alpha males. Neither would be willing to share her—would they? If only for this one night?

“Oh the lovely Eislinn and I are old friends, elf.” Lothan had an eye for races, and he’d pegged Callum immediately as one of the Fae, just like Eislinn. “Old enough that I’m tempted to tie her up and paddle her backside for putting herself in danger tonight.”

His heated gaze was making Eislinn sweat. Her nipples hardened under her hoodie and her jeans were getting soaked. It had been almost five years since she and Lothan had been together, and she hadn’t had a really good spanking since. Still, she held her ground.
“Sure you are, big guy. Promises, promises.”

“I’ll help,” Callum offered. His grass-green eyes were shot through with golden sparks—a sure sign that he was aroused to either anger or passion. “I’ve been trying to get her to stop taking stupid risks for two hundred years. And just think how pretty she’ll look with that little ass all red from both of our hands.”

Eislinn’s breath stopped in her throat. Had Callum just suggested…?

He had.

Well, keep your fingers crossed…and time to get my butt in gear on the other seven!

You’ve been hit by the dreaded writer’s block

So. You current WIP is racing along at warp speed, your characters all know their place, no one is speaking out of turn and you’re feeling pretty darn good about yourself. Then bam! Out of nowhere, a granite wall surrounds your brain. No matter how long you sit at the keyboard and stare at that pesky monitor screen, not one word will come to your brain. What to so. What to do.
There are so many suggested cures for writers block out in cyberspace that if you took the time to read them all, you’d for sure never get any writing done and you wouldn’t have to worry about your frozen brain cells. I thought some were very creative, some were hysterical, and some just plain made good sense.
One suggestions was hypnosis. Of course, you’d have to find a qualified hypnotist and be sure you were a good subject. But if you get past that, maybe you could have him or her implant a few extra suggestions for your next stories. And actually, believe it or not, for $12.95 you can download a CD, play it and hypnotize yourself. Only…who wakes you up?
Another suggestion is to step away from the computer. Well, duh. Don’t we all try that? But while you’re away from the dreaded computer, try translating a poem into another language (Google Babelfish). Or better yet, writing one yourself. It takes your brain on a whole new trip and gets it unstuck from the crossroads you can’t cross.
Watch a movie with English subtitles. I watched the movie, “Z”, that way and not only found myself drawn into the movie but as I concentrated many other idea came to me.
Indulge in a favorite treat. For me it’s coffee ice cream, or sometimes coffee and chocolate mixed together. Which of course is why I’ll never be modeling on the cover of Vogue.
Meditate. A good companion to hypnosis. Sometimes it helps to wipe the brain clean, sometimes it finds that little bend in the road where it’s stuck and unkinks it.
Brainstorm with a friend. Unless of course the friend is either under deadline or having her own writer’s block. If that latter, I suggest a two margarita lunch.
Keep a journal and write in it on the days your brilliant ideas smack you in the head and the days your brain won’t work at all. When you go back later on and read them you’ll be surprised, stunned, hilarious at what you’ve written.
And finally, just put your WIP aside and start something new. Maybe something outrageous you haven’t tried before. Something that takes you to a whole new place. You’d be surprised how it will flow backwards to the place where you got stuck.
Me? I personally find my brain works best in the shower, which is why I often resemble an old prune.. But then, at least you know I’m always clean!

And while you're at it, take a look at my new psychic romantic intrigued released by The Lotus Circle, Visions of Darkness

Dan Romeo CEO of the mysterious Phoenix Agency, has just completed a dangerous mission and wants some down time. But when his friend Chase Carpenters calls with an emergency, how can he refuse him? Someone is threatening to steal Chase’s brand new high tech robot about to be unveiled and all he’s got is an anonymous tip. Art historian Mia Fleming has battled with her precognitive abilities all her life, often shunned by a skeptical public and even more skeptical police. But the visions relating to the robot are so vivid she can’t ignore them. When Dan tracks her down as the source of the anonymous note, he wonders if she’s the culprit or a conduit for a message? Things get complicated when the electricity between Dan and Mia ratchets up into high voltage and they find it’s not something they can ignore. Then bodies begin falling, Mia’s vision escalate in horror and intensity and the tension at Carpenter Techtronics is off the charts. When Mia is shot and almost killed, Dan and his team race to locate the real robot and find the killers before they can strike again.

Happy Easter

The Goddesses of Storytelling wish you the happiest of Easters. Here is hoping that you find all your eggs filled with goodies and the chocolate bunny brings you a wonderful week.

Rose Quartz

Isabella Tremaine's credo is always look your best even when you're running from the bad guys.

This modern Southern Belle has an ancient secret. Bella, as Isabella is known to her friends, is the possessor of a primeval amulet empowered by the gods with creativity and beauty, and this spunky blonde has an abundance of both. Unfortunately a madman has discovered Bella's secret and is determined to gain possession of the amulet, even if he must kill her to do so. It will take every wile in Bella's formidable arsenal of tricks to outwit the megalomaniac who is after her.

At the same time the madman is trying to steal her amulet, a ranch hand is trying to steal her heart. Bella is determined to not only stay alive but to keep her size five stilettos foot loose and fancy free. Who will prove the greater danger? The madman who wants her amulet or the ranch hand who wants her heart?

Excerpt:

A streak of silver flashed as the knife sailed through the air. Hank shifted and the knife went flying by him. The two men closed in from different directions. He crouched, waiting.

Bella watched, helpless.

When the two men rushed him, he reached out grabbed them each by the nape of their necks and knocked their heads together. The sharp crack made Bella wince and cradle her own aching head.

The men went down without a sound.

Hank ran to her side and dropped to one knee. “Bella,” he said his voice hoarse with anxiety.

“Amulet,” she whispered.

“I got it, honey.”

She gave him a loopy smile. He kept spinning toward her then away from her. “My hero,” she said. She was going to make a joke and tell him she could have taken them but she lost her train of thought. She tried to raise her hand to pat his cheek, but it fell limply to her side. The world tipped then turned black.

“Wake up, Bella. Come on, ole girl.” The voice came from a long way off. Closer , an irregular thumping sounded in her ear. The scent of blood and sweat mingled with the musky sent of man and aftershave.

Arms around her tightened, as memory tried to slither in through the black wall of oblivion. “Where’s a cop when you need one,” Hank muttered.

He gave a tiny jiggle of his arms that sent the hammers hitting against her head pounding.

She moaned.

“I’m sorry, Bella, but you need to open your eyes.”

Someone must have stuck a sticky, weighted substance on them because she just couldn’t do it.

“Come on, woman. Show me how tough you southerners really are. No wonder you lost the war.” The sneer in his voice angered her enough to pry one eyelid halfway up.

“That’s my girl. Come on, Bella.”

“A. I’m not a girl I’m a woman. B. I’m not your girl.” She meant to say but realized the words that had formed in her mind had never passed her lips.

Love Your Neighbor As Yourself

Today is Good Friday. In the Christian world, that is the day Jesus Christ was crucified.

In three days, on Easter Sunday, Christians celebrate Jesus' resurrection.

When asked what was the greatest commandment, Jesus answered that first to love God with everything in you. The second was to love your neighbor as yourself.

I realize this is not a religious blog. I do not intend to make it one. But since the season is one of renewal and one of remembering love, I offer these quotes about helping each other.
No matter what your religious affiliation, even if you have none, you can make this world a better place by helping your neighbor. So with that thought, here are what some people worth quoting said:

When someone is in trouble, don't annoy him by asking if there is anythig you can do. Think up something appropriate and do it. E.W. Hove

Many are called but few get up. Oliver Herford

Great opportunities to help others seldom come, but small ones surround us every day.
Sally Koch

Doing nothing for others is the undoing of one's self. We must be purposely kind and generous or me miss the best part of existence. Horace Mann

I think we need to look for comunity by feeling copassionately what others are going through and responding with our time and hearts. Thomas Moore, Ph.D.

There is no such thing as a self-made person. We reach our goals only with the help of others.
George Shinn

Teamwork thrives when no one points a finger, and everyone lends a hand. Dan Zadra

To fall down, you manage alone, but it takes friendly hands to get up. Carolee Dunagan

Goodwill is reciprocal. The good thoughts you send out to others will return to you multiplied. Grenville Kleiser

When you are kind to someone in trouble, you hope they'll remember and be kind to someone else...it'll become like a wildfire. Whoopi Goldberg

A great life is the sum total of the worthwhile things you've been doing one by one. Richard Bach

The measure of life is not its duration but it's donation. Peter Marshall

It matters not how long we live but how. Philip James Bailey

Enjoy your weekend, enjoy your holiday, celebrate Easter, and do something kind for someone.

It's the Little Things That Count

Easter is almost here.
What we sometimes forget is that Easter is not just about chocolate bunnies, boiled colored eggs, and pretty ruffled dresses. Easter is also about new beginning. The beginning of spring. If you are a Christian, as am I, Easter is about new life offered by a Messiah, a Christ.
Perhaps for all of us, we can make Easter to stand for something else as well. Perhaps we can make Easter stand for a time to become new - starting with a new attitude.

Here are some thoughts that might start you on your way:


Do the kinds of things that come from the heart. When you do, you won't be dissatisfied, you won't be envious, you won't be longing for somebody else's things. On the contrary, you'll be overwhelmed with what comes back. Morrie Schwartz

Too often we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word, or the smallest act of caring, all of which have the potential to turn a life around. Leo Buscaglia

We cannot explain why these little signs mean so much to us. But the fact is that a word of thanks for some small thing can transform our day. Jeanne Reidy

Seven National Crimes: I don't think. I don't know. I don't care. I am too busy. I leave well enough alone. I have no time to read and find out. I am not interested. William Boetcker

"I believe that one of the most important things to learn in life is that you can make a difference in your community no matter who you are or where you live. I have seen so many good deeds -- people helped, lives improved -- because someone cared." Rosalynn Carter

The thoughtful little things you do each day have an accumulated effect on all our tomorrows. Alexandra Stoddard

Take good care of yourself, just as you have taken such good care of others. Dan Zadra

drawing a blank

I really, truly, honest-to-god (or gods, take your pick) can't think of a thing to say today. So here it is, your moment of zen...

What would you be..

If you could be anything you wanted to?

Did you ever—do you still—have secret dreams about something you’d like to be? Maybe the head concubine in a pasha’s harem. Or an astronaut circling the earth. How about an explorer on the Amazon River or a stunt pilot in an air show?
When I was in my early teens I wanted to be a movie star (big surprise-who didn’t?). My mother didn’t take too kindly to the fact that I went around blabbing it all over the small town where we lived. Or that I dug into my sister’s makeup and went to school with enough eye shadow and blush on my face to qualify me for the clown college. But I saw myself as the next hot siren with flowing black hair and bedroom eyes, handsome men at my feet…well, you get the idea. Too bad I was only fourteen at the time!
As I got older my dreams changed with my life experiences. I had a ride in a tethered hot air balloon and decided I wanted to compete in the race in New Mexico. Until, that was, I found out how much it cost.
In college I was the only female reporter on the sports staff of my college newspaper. I had dreams of breaking glass ceilings and soaring to journalistic heights. Then I discovered at that time the ceiling was more like cement, and the coaches didn’t take too kindly to me criticizing their athletes.
Managing rock bands and country singers led me on a different path. I spent four memorable (and very interesting) months in Nashville and two years on the road with musicians who never reached a social age past ten. But I did learn how to contact a bail bondsman in the middle of the night and to book out of the way rooms at out of the way motels. Groupies were throwing undies even then and somehow they always got dumped in my possession. Like I really wanted them!
I’d love to have been a singer except I can’t carry a tune with a moving van to help me. I wanted to be a folk singer, but besides not being able to sing I only learned six songs on the guitar (that’s all there were in the book I had).
My scariest dream was of being a race car driver, when I hung out with someone who built prototypes. I actually got to drive a Lotus, a barely street legal car, on the track at one of the speedways. Scared the hell out of myself and decided top leave that particular career to someone else.
So now, instead of shaping a million careers for myself, I write about them. In my books I can be anyone I want to be and do the most amazing things. And all without ever leaving my desk.
What are your dreams? What are you secret desires? Come share them with me. I’ll bet they’d make great stories.

Some uplifting thoughts to start the week

There are people who take the heart out of you, and there are people who put it back.
Elizabeth David
be sure and be the kind of person who puts the heart back

If the people around you don't believe in you, if they don't encourage you, then you need t find some people who do
John Maxwell

Somebody saw something in you once --and that is why you're where you are today. Thank them! Don Ward

Most people see what is, and never see what can be.
Albert Einstein
look for what can be then it becomes what is

You must believe in yourself, my child, or no one else will believe in you. be self-confident, self-reliant, and even if you don' make it, you wil know you have done your best. Now go to it.
Mary Hardy MacArthur

Virtually every great accomplishment or movement was started by someone who believed passionately in something - and someonewho believed passionately in that person.
Margart Warren

Those who believe in our ability do more than stimulate us. They create for us an atmosphere in which it becomes easier to succeed.
John H. Spalding

The greatest good we can do for others is not to share our riches but to reveal theirs.
B.J. Marshall

Believe that there's a light at the end of the tunnel. Believe that you might be that light for someone else.
Kobi Yamada


Remember, if your day is dark, try to make it lighter by being a light to someone else. You will be surprised how bright your day becomes. Have a great week. Charlene

Rose Quartz

Coming down to the wire. Wednesday is the last day of the Rose Quartz contest. Rose Quartz will be out Thursday. For a chance to win a Rose Quartz Tee Shirt send me an email at sandracox1@gmail.com and tell me if Bella Tremaine was talking to you would she address you as sweetheart, darling, honey, or sugar. Just put the correct answer in the header. Need a hint? Here's the quote of the day.


Quote of the day: "Sugar, you take my breath away." Bella Tremain, Rose Quartz.

Excerpt:

An engine purred softly.

“Bella get back!” Hank yelled as he threw open the door and came racing toward her.

Startled, she looked up. The car, its lights off, came out of nowhere. For a moment she felt like a deer caught in the headlights, her jaw slack, her mouth gaping.

Hank tackled her. He knocked her to the ground, rolling over and over with her, absorbing most of the shock from the hard concrete with his tough body.

As the car sped by, he yanked her up. “Are you all right?” When she didn’t immediately respond, he shook her his tone urgent.

“Yeees.” She lifted a shaky hand to the side of her head, her keys still clutched in her hand.

He shoved her toward her apartment building. “Get inside,” he ordered, already racing for the truck. With three long-legged strides, he reached the pickup and hopped in the cab.

“Ms. Bella, are you all right?” George came running toward her. He stumbled to a halt beside her, trembling worse than she was.

“I’m fine, George.” She brushed off her shoulders. She had a nasty scrape on her right arm but it could have been worse, a lot worse.

She turned to watch Hank as he gunned the motor. Wrenching the steering wheel, he missed the little white Honda parked in front of him by a hairs breath. The motor whined as the truck went fishtailing down the street.

Blurb:

Isabella Tremaine's credo is always look your best even when you're running from the bad guys.

This modern Southern Belle has an ancient secret. Bella, as Isabella is known to her friends, is the possessor of a primeval amulet empowered by the gods with creativity and beauty, and this spunky blonde has an abundance of both. Unfortunately a madman has discovered Bella's secret and is determined to gain possession of the amulet, even if he must kill her to do so. It will take every wile in Bella's formidable arsenal of tricks to outwit the megalomaniac who is after her.

At the same time the madman is trying to steal her amulet, a ranch hand is trying to steal her heart. Bella is determined to not only stay alive but to keep her size five stilettos foot loose and fancy free. Who will prove the greater danger? The madman who wants her amulet or the ranch hand who wants her heart?

It's about Time

Not - "It's about time you turned up to blog," or "It's about time you carried out the trash," etc. It's about that mysterious element that runs our lives. TIME. I am late blogging to-day. It's 2.28 pm in Victoria. I've been on the go since I got up at seven this morning. I have nearly run out of time!

Dumb me wakened in the night and decided to write about Time. I thought and thought about all the phrases we use about Time. I'm behind time. I've lost time. Time to move on. "A time to reap and a time to sow..." Timely. Time is of the essence. Time out of mind. Take time. He/she gave me a bad time. There are lots more but I went back to sleep.

Our lives are fragmented into seconds, minutes and hours. "Keep track of time, Anita, or you'll be late for the ballet." Yes, I'm going to Ballet Jazz with a friend this evening. Much to do before I leave the house. I'm a timely person. If I'm to pick you up at a certain time I'll be parked out on the street five minutes before the agreed upon time. But my friend, Helen, with whom I'm going to the ballet is the most untimely person in the world. She'll come running up to the car. "Sorry, I'm late. I got caught on a phone call and lost track of time." I love her dearly and put up with this flaw in her character.

To end this jumble of timely things, I'll quote a few lines from Andrew Marvell's poem, To His Coy Mistress. "Had we but world enough, and time, This coyness, Lady, were no crime. We would sit down and think which way, To walk and pass our long love's day..." The poem is so seductive. Here are a few lines. "But at my back I always hear, Time's winged chariot hurrying near;And yonder all before us lie, Deserts of vast eternity..." So he coaxes her into making love and what better way to use time. It's a gorgeous poem.

Not to lose out on promoting my time travel, Ring Around The Moon, releasing on April 8, here's the cover for you to gaze upon.

Go to www.anitabirt.com for lots of information about me and my books.

I have run out of blogging time and must leave you now. Enjoy the week-end. I hope the sun shines where you are.

Anita

Why is blogging so $%^&*( Hard???

Blogging to me is a trial. A tribulation. Hard work. A Punishment.

Now that is really strange, cause I can write over one hundred sixty thousand words about worlds, heroines, heroes, villains, and monsters. I can write about sex. I can write about torment, joy, mourning, and birth. I can write about universes, space ships, sword fights, and brawls. I can write just about anything far out imaginary and beyond belief.

But writing a blog about ordinary things is next to impossible for me. I get to the blog screen and I am brain dead. If I were writing a novel it would be called writer's block.

But if you are interested in my worlds of wonder and imagination, then I will give you an excerpt of my novel Prophecy of Vithan which is available at www.cerridwenpress.com.

Morgan lowered her eyes to the phaser for only a second. She looked at Len, somber. She locked eyes with him. Her hands quietly in her lap. If Len shot, at this range, she'd be dead. If he moved his eyes away from hers, distracted for even a micro-second, she could knock the phaser off target. She might be wounded, but not dead. The crawler had made its way twenty feet toward the surface. She'd survive the fall. Her breathing receptacle needed filling. She wasn't breathing raggedly, yet. It would be close. The alternative would be to attack Len. She didn't want to attack him. It would be dangerous, exhausting and, well truth be told, she liked his kisses.
"So, is it?" Len asked again.
"What's funny," Morgan answered, not wavering from looking into Len's eyes, "Is Vespasian telling the Prots such a story. If I thought I could do it, I would kill Vespasian in a heartbeat. I had no reason to kill the King or the Queen. Why would I kill Khai? I killed two men and fought you to keep him alive. Does it make sense I would now try to kill him? I want Vespasian dead, more than you can imagine. However, he's too strong. His mental powers are too strong for me. I can't even keep him from touching me."
"You told the King you would rather see Khai dead than under the Regent's care."
"If I thought Khai would be under Vespasian's care and I could not stop it, yes, I would kill Khai to save him from destruction. But the kill would be fast and surgical. I wouldn't bother with killing Khai's friends, his bodyguards and Billy, my friend." Morgan inhaled raggedly. Her voice cracked slightly as she spoke. "Len, if you think I killed those people, shoot me. I'm tired of trying to fight this battle any more." Morgan lowered her head. Her disheveled black hair fell forward covering her eyes. Her shoulders shook with a sob.
"Morgan, I…" Len said softly. He let his hand holding the phaser drop slightly. He leaned toward her.
Morgan snatched the phaser from Len's hand. She swung and backhanded the Protector across the face. She swiveled inside the seat belt. Raising her leg, she planted her boot in the middle of Len's stomach. She pointed the phaser, still set to kill, at Len. "So, it is true, you killed -"
"I killed nobody, tonight. I don't like having a phaser pointed at me." Morgan pressed the phaser switch, turning off the gun. She opened the crawler window and tossed the phaser out. She kept Len at bay with her boot. "Vespasian killed the King and the Queen, and wounded himself. He's the one who killed Billy and the kids. I'd lay you odds on it. If you searched the area, you'd find molecular proof. He's too careful to leave any actual DNA around."
Len pushed against Morgan's boot.
Morgan pushed back, slamming him against the crawler door. "You have a choice. You can promise you will not fight with me and drive this thing to the surface, so we can find Khai. Or, we can fight and one of us will fall out of this thing. I notice your seat belt is not fastened. Even if you do push me out, I'll survive the fall. Will you? Humans seem very fragile. You've been unconscious twice this evening. Want to go for three?"

Coming this Friday from Ellora's Cave

Teach Me (The Hierophant)
A Torrid Tarot Novel
By Cindy Spencer Pape
Available this Friday, March 14 at Ellora’s Cave:
http://www.ellorascave.com/AuthorsBooks.asp?AuthorCode=CSPa

Blurb:
The Hierophant generally appears in life in the form of a teacher or mentor. He’s wise but can be stubborn to the point of disaster, especially if his beliefs are called into question. Galen Forsythe believes the traditions and tenets of academia to be an almost sacred trust. So when he is hopelessly attracted to a brilliant young graduate student, he fights against it for three long years. Lydia has been in love with Galen, her Hierophant, from day one. When she’s targeted by an ancient demon determined to escape its prison, Galen has to learn to let go of logic and tradition and trust in the power of love to save her.



ADULT Excerpt:


“You planning to stay here all night?”

Lydia shrieked and spun in her chair. The movement yanked the ear buds out of her ears. She heard Galen’s soft laughter at almost the same time she registered his sandalwood scent.



“You’re back!”



“I am. Can I take this to mean you missed me?”



A quick glance to her right told her that her door was shut. She’d covered the window in it with a poster the first day here so that when she closed it no one could see in. Originally that had been for security purposes since she worked with valuable materials but now she could think of another advantage.



“You can.” Her arms wrapped around his waist and she squeezed, pressing her face into his stomach. “How was the conference?”



“The usual.” He slipped his hands under her arms and pulled her to her feet for a long satisfying kiss. She wound her arms around his throat and opened for him, pressing her body full-length along his. She could feel his erection prodding into her stomach and she shimmied against it. She could already feel her panties getting wet beneath her broomstick-style skirt and her nipples ached where they rubbed against his solid chest.



“Usual what?” She gasped for air and smiled at him when their lips finally drew apart. He sat on the desk and drew her down into his lap.



“Usual bad food, boring talks and annoying networking, all for ten minutes worth of really useful information.” He nibbled on the point where her neck met her shoulder while his hands toyed with the sides of her breasts through her summer-weight sweater and satin bra.



“Which is why we all go to the stupid things.” She sighed and tipped her head to give him greater access while her own hand slid up under his golf shirt.



“Umm-hmm.” His tongue swirled around her ear. “And remind me next time to make sure I sign up for one my department chair isn’t going to.”



“Oh that had to be fun.” She shifted a little to bring his palm to her swollen nipple, then whimpered when he found it and pressed down.



“Loads.” He nipped her ear lobe then turned his attention to getting his hand beneath her bra.





“Lord, I missed this!” His voice dropped so no one could hear them beyond the thin office walls.


He squeezed her breasts gently and chuckled. “Missed these too.”



“Yeah they missed you too,” she whispered back. He shoved her bra up out of the way and massaged both tips, making her arch into his hands. “Did you lock the damn door when you came in?”



“Do I look stupid?” One hand left her breast to go questing down past the elastic waistband of her skirt. “Of course I locked the door.”

Do you have visions?

From Visions of Darkness, released tomorrow by The Lotus Circle

Do you have visions?

Mia Fleming does and she wishes she hadn’t been born with what some call a gift and she considers a curse. This week The Lotus Circle will release Visions of Darkness, the second in my Phoenix Agency books and the follow up to Always On My Mind We meet Phoenix’s powerful CEO and Mia Fleming, who finds herself battling her psychic powers .
It wouldn’t be so bad if the visions always came to her in a timely fashion. Or if they were clear and easy to interpret. But too many times she’s carried messages that were wrong or came to late to help anyone. It raised a high level of skepticism with the police and others, and a burning frustration within herself.
She tries to focus on her position as an art historian for a museum, a job that requires a great deal of concentration and research and one she hopes will provide an effective block to her precognition. But after a long period of freedom from the visions, she is suddenly bombarded by them and they might as well be written in code for as much as she understands.
She’s smart enough, however, when she can’t push them away, to ask a friend to help her identify what she’s seeing and that leads her to send anonymous messages to Carpenter Electronics, warning them that their very secret new high tech project is about to be stolen. Dan Romeo, CEO of the low profile but powerful Phoenix Agency is called in by Chase Carpenter to find the sources of the warnings, and the trail leads him to Mia.
The electricity generated at their first meeting is enough to light of downtown San Antonio, but Mia shies away from personal involvements and Dan definitely has a rule about involvements in a case. But as Mia’s visions increase in violence and intensity and her life is threatened, as they work together to find the person planning the theft and the ones who have already killed three people, there’s no way they can deny what’s evolved between them.
Here’s a little taste of the book for you.
No. I’m tired. That’s all that’s wrong.
Mia Fleming put aside the art book lying open on her desk, closed her eyes and rubbed her temples. She’d just been staring at the photo of the Da Vinci painting too long, that was all. As art historian and assistant curator at the DeWitt Museum, she was immersed in research for the private collection due to arrive at the museum next month. Part of her job was to gather information for the brochures that were printed and the press kits they distributed. And as usual, she’d been overdoing it.
Shoving her long brown hair, the color of rich chocolate, back behind her ears, she pulled the book forward and began to study the page again. And there it was. Just as before. Shimmering in the center of the photo of the Da Vinci painting. An ugly rock that looked like a misshapen lump of clay, bumping along, wobbling back and forth, with a pair of hands reaching for it. Then nothing except the original picture, undisturbed.
God, not again. Please, please, please. Choose someone else, okay?
Why did she have to be the one these things happened to? Why did she have to have what her grandmother called a “special gift”? More like a curse than a blessing, she often said.
But she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the book. The image on the page kept shifting, first the photo of the painting, now that stupid little rock with its jerky movements. Finally, the shadow hands reaching for it. Like a broken record, the vision continued to repeat itself over and over again, taunting her to find its hidden meaning.
Mia slammed the book shut and shoved it away from herself. It was just like always. How on earth was she supposed to figure out what the vision meant? A rock was a rock, right?

One Good Man in Print!

It finally happened and Cindy and I are ecstatic! One Good Man released in print. This is the first in our urban legend books, with more planned in the future. We knew that it would be coming out this spring and were anticipating it! Now it is finally here. So if you missed it as an ebook or were just waiting for it to be out in print, now is your chance to pick up this fantastic read.

A taste of One Good Man to wet your appetite.
One Good Man
Lacey Thorn and Cindy Spencer Pape

One of the most enduring of all urban legends is the story of the phantom hitchhiker. Young or old, male or female, in need of help or just needing a ride, the legends vary. A helpful driver offers a ride and the passenger gives directions. When they arrive at the destination however, the driver discovers the passenger has vanished, sometimes leaving behind a piece of clothing or some other memento to mark his or her passing. A stormy night, a deserted country road, a blown tire, and a woman on the run from a killer. Is the handsome young Marine here to save her? Or is he just a figment of her imagination?
Casey is caught between a murderer, a ghost and the wounded soldier who could either save her life or break her heart. Grant can deal with Thanksgiving snowstorms and determined killers but not his brother’s ghost, and not a woman who makes him start thinking about the future. Can Grant let go of the past to embrace the explosive passion he finds with Casey? He’s willing to risk his life for hers, but what about his heart?

Excerpt:Casey jumped out of bed suddenly deciding that she needed the comfort of her own clothes on instead of Grant’s shirt and her panties. She was just bending over to pick up her stuff when she heard a deep groan from behind her. She turned and there was Grant filling the doorway with his big frame. His gaze zeroed in on her breasts and she blushed even as she felt her nipples harden and press against the cotton of his shirt. Her gaze dropped to his jeans and there was no missing the prominent bulge behind the fly of his Levis.
He started toward her and she noticed the glass of water in his hand. It was a paper cup she seemed to recall from the bathroom which explained why he was back so quickly. He stopped when he was in front of her, so close that she could feel the heat radiating from him.
“Drink,” he grunted and she grasped the cup and carried it to her mouth. She almost dropped it when she felt his knuckles graze the tips of her breasts. She did drop it when he pinched both nipples and pulled on them.
Casey moaned as the sensation speared her from breasts to belly and all the way down. God she wanted him.
“Damn,” she heard him mutter before he locked gazes with her and stated bluntly, “I want you Casey. I want to throw you across my bed and take you hard.”
Casey shivered with her own carnal need. It had been a long time and something about Grant increased her need, her hunger. “What’s stopping you?” she tossed out before sitting on the bed and reclining back on her elbows. Her knees draped over the side and he spread them wide with his body when he stepped between them.
“I don’t like people wearing my stuff Casey,” Grant stated matter-of-factly nodding at his shirt plastered against her chest. Since he’d already said he didn’t care, she recognized the command as purely sexual. “Take it off.”
Casey couldn’t stop the grin that tugged at her lips as she caught the hem and pulled the shirt up and over her head. She tossed it behind her and leaned back once more letting him look his fill of her breasts. She could tell he liked them by the lust that flared in his eyes.
“Now the panties,” Grant ordered.
“Are they yours too?” Casey said with a laugh that made him growl. She reached down and eased the bikinis over her hips and down her legs hooking them on one foot before extending it out to Grant as an offering.
Grant took the panties and she gasped when he carried them up to his face and inhaled deeply. It was more erotic than she would have ever imagined to see him breathing holding her arousal soaked undies to his nose. She rubbed her legs together feeling more moisture seep from her slit to coat her thighs.
“Open your legs and show me how much you want me.” He stuffed the undies into his front pocket then proceeded to unbutton the dark flannel shirt he was wearing.
She spread her legs wide and lay back on the bed enjoying the view just as much as his expression said that he was. He had a deep grey thermal shirt under the flannel that made his eyes appear almost silver in the soft light. She brought her hands up to her breasts and pinched lightly at her nipples making them both groan. He pulled the thermal up and over his chest and Casey shivered at the sight of his naked chest covered in a light peppering of blondish brown hair that thickened in a line from belly to the top of his jeans. She knew it was pointing the way to the Promised Land.
“We’re still going to talk later, Casey.” Grant flicked open the top snap on his jeans. “You’re not going to leave ‘til I get some damn answers.”
“Whatever you say.” Casey was willing to agree to anything as she watched his hand finally reach for the zipper and pull it down.

Hope this gets you interested enough to pick up your copy of One Good Man today. Just follow the link below!
http://www.jasminejade.com/p-3938-one-good-man.aspx?skinid=11

Lacey Thorn
Your world...unlaced

ROSE QUARTZ

ROSE QUARTZ RELEASE DATE AT CERRIDWENPRESS.COM:MARCH 20.

Rose Quartz Contest

For a chance to win a Rose Quartz T-Shirt send me an email at sandracox1@gmail.com and tell me if Bella Tremaine was talking to you would she address you as sweetheart, darling, honey, or sugar. Just put the correct answer in the header. Need a hint? Check out the quote of the day at Sandra’s Blog: sandracox.blogspot.com.

ROSE QUARTZ BLURB:

Isabella Tremaine's credo is always look your best even when you're running from the bad guys.

This modern Southern Belle has an ancient secret. Bella, as Isabella is known to her friends, is the possessor of a primeval amulet empowered by the gods with creativity and beauty, and this spunky blonde has an abundance of both. Unfortunately a madman has discovered Bella's secret and is determined to gain possession of the amulet, even if he must kill her to do so. It will take every wile in Bella's formidable arsenal of tricks to outwit the megalomaniac who is after her.

At the same time the madman is trying to steal her amulet, a ranch hand is trying to steal her heart. Bella is determined to not only stay alive but to keep her size five stilettos foot loose and fancy free. Who will prove the greater danger? The madman who wants her amulet or the ranch hand who wants her heart?

Excerpt

The big jet’s engines droned. Outside the windows, stars glittered like diamonds against black velvet. Isabella Tremaine—Bella to her friends--glanced at her watch. Ten p.m. She leaned her seat back and snuggled into the blanket provided to offset the cool air flowing through the plane.

The tangy aftershave of a passenger walking down the aisle tickled her senses. Pleasantly drowsy and drifting toward sleep, it took several moments for her mind to register the insidious unease pricking her body. The hairs on her nape rose. Needles of tension ran skeletal fingers up her spine settling in her neck. Someone was watching her.

She could sense the malevolence of the gaze crawling across her like a spider. Victor Price? Of course not he was in prison . . . wasn’t he?

The feeling of being watched had to be connected with the amulet. She could feel it in her bones. Under the blanket, she touched her forearm. Beneath the expensive mint green silk of her blouse, she felt the cool molten-gold band and its three raised stones. Who on the plane could possibly know about the piece of jewelry she always wore on her forearm and the power it gave the wearer, the power of both creativity and beauty?

With a click, she pulled the seat up and looked around. There were no first class seats available on her flight from Rome to Atlanta so she sat smack dab in the economy section with rows of drowsing people in front, beside and behind her.

She looked at the young woman seated next to her. Her companion had spiky black hair and black fingernails bitten to the quick. The last time she’d returned from the restroom she had smelled of an illegal substance. Eyes closed, mouth open, and headphones on, the young Goth snored softly. No, the threat Bella sensed wasn’t coming from the young person at her elbow…at least she didn’t think so.

Straightening, Bella glanced around. Her sweeping gaze barely registered the admiring and occasional leering glances from the males on board. She had dealt with that sort of thing since she was thirteen. What she sensed and was looking for was the cold icy sheen of depravity. But evil was never that easy to recognize.

Spring time

Friday, March 7th and my turn to blog about ... spring time. On southern Vancouver Island we are enjoying lovely spring weather and flowers galore. The first of the flowering trees lining Victoria's streets are in bloom. Early rhododendrons are masses of pink blooms, hundreds of daffodils are blooming in our garden and soon the birds will be nesting. This is the time to put fingers to keyboard or pen to paper and start a new book. Sigh. I've just finished wrapping up the edits for my romantic suspense, Too Young To Die and need a break. Below is the cover. No release date as yet. But my time travel, Ring Around The Moon will be released on April 8 so I've dropped the cover in as well. That's FIVE BOOKS with Cerridwen Press. Not in the best selling league yet but it's early days.
Actually I have tentatively started a new book about three sisters, not young, middle aged, who for various reasons have decided to try living together in the old family home. Something will happen to shake them up. I hope there may be a market for stories about older women who are not perfect but interesting and worth knowing.

Sorry about the short blog. I've had a busy few days and almost forgot it's Friday and my day to blog. I promise to do better next time. I may write about SEX and the ideal duration for intercourse. Seriously.
Anita
www.anitabirt.com

Don't Forget the First Annual Cerridwen Spring Giveaway is Underway

Are you ready to win an ebook reader?
Or downloads of fantastic romances, including a copy of Prophecy of Vithan?
Have you wanted to buy some romances from Cerridwen Press, but haven't got around to it.

Now all you have to do is participate in a scavenger hunt and you will be eligible to win downloads of romances from Cerridwen Press and an ebook reader.

Going on Right Now from March 1 through March 15 you will have the opportunity to hunt for a tree icon and for secret words. Go to www.charleneleatherman.com and check out the rules.

Be a winner in the First Annual Cerridwen Spring Giveaway.

NOW IN PRINT!!!

One Good Man
by Lacey Thorn and Cindy Spencer Pape

Book Length: 164 pages
Book Type: Trade Paperback
Publisher: Ellora's Cave Publishing
ISBN: 9781419957420
Price: $8.99

Blurb: An enduring urban legend is the story of the phantom hitchhiker. Young or old, male or female, in need of help or just needing a ride, the legends vary. A helpful driver offers a ride and the passenger gives directions. When they arrive at the destination the passenger vanishes, sometimes leaving behind a memento to mark their passing. A stormy night, a deserted country road, a blown tire, and a woman on the run from a killer. Is the handsome young Marine here to save her? Or is he just a figment of her imagination?Casey is caught between a murderer, a ghost and the wounded soldier who could save her life or break her heart. Grant can deal with Thanksgiving snowstorms and determined killers but not his brother's ghost, and not a woman who makes him start thinking about the future. Can Grant let go of the past to embrace the explosive passion he finds with Casey? He's willing to risk his life for hers, but what about his heart?

Excerpt:
She didn’t cry, like some women did, in a cute, chick-flick kind of way. He was immune to that. His ex-wife had had it down to an art from. This woman cried from the gut—and if he didn’t miss his guess—from the heart. Her shoulders jerked and she wheezed for breath as she sobbed and sniffled, then wiped her face roughly with the back of her hand.

He didn’t even realize he was moving ‘til he was there beside the bed. Then it was the most natural thing in the world to sit on the edge and gather her into her arms. Whoever she was, whatever game she was playing, right now, all he could do was hold her in his arms and stroke his hands down her back while she cried.

After a few minutes the sobs dissolved into hiccoughs, then faded away to one locker-room loud snort. She pulled away from his soaked chest and used both hands to swipe at her face, shove damp strands of hair out of her eyes.

“S-sorry.”

“For what?” His own voice sounded rusty, even to him. Now that she wasn’t falling apart anymore, his cock had registered the fact that there was a real live woman sitting in his lap, all warm and soft, for the first time in almost a year. Down boy! He tried to remember that he didn’t know her, couldn’t trust her. Too bad it wasn’t working.

“Everything.” She looked around wildly. It dawned on him what she needed and he handed her the first thing that came to hand, which turned out to be a pillowcase. She nodded her thanks and used the cloth to wipe her face, then finally, blow her nose. “Including the extra laundry.”

“That would be the least of my worries. Probably should have put clean bedding on a while ago.” Would have, if he’d known there was going to be a woman in the cabin. But he knew, or thought he did, what she was really apologizing for. Unless he missed his guess, Casey—her name was engraved in his mind from earlier—was a strong, independent type. And he knew very well how much he hated to fall apart in front of anyone else. He figured he might as well say something to put her at ease. They had a lot of talking to do. It would go easier if they didn’t start out in confrontation. “Trust me, I’m no stranger to nightmares. They happen to the best of us.”

Pick up a copy today at: http://www.jasminejade.com/p-3938-one-good-man.aspx

Conflict vs conflict

This week I had another chapter in the ongoing discussion with my adult son aboujt conflict in books and in television. I'm always complaining to him that the minute I become emotionally attached to a couple in a televisions program, boom! the writers decide it's time to break them up. Then they take forever to get them back together...if indeed they do. I'm a Grey's Anatomy fan, so my heart has been following Meredith and derek (a/k/k Dr. Mcdreamy) and they are doing terrible things to that relationship, enough that it ruins the entire program for me. My son, of course, insists that the writers and producers don't think we can be happy withiout constant conflict.

Writers, on the other hand, have a bit more latitude, because there can be a definite conclusion, usually a happy one which is why I read and write romance. The happy couple is sure to break up. separate/ be in conflict when they meet, but by the time you read The End, the author has delivered you to a staisfying conclusion.

Most of the time.

I'm sure I'll never forgive Karen Slaughter for killing off her hero, Heffrey, in her Grant's County series after four books. I grieved as if I'd lost my own lover.

I don't believe 'art' requires a depressing ending or a depressing arc in a story, but of course that's just me. So tell me, everyone, what do you think? Does it bother you when television shows scramble relationships and drive you nuts? Does it bother you when authors kill off main characters? (James Patterson is another on famous for doing this?

Or is the conflict that is merely part of the journey to the end of the rainbow enough for you. Is the method used to bring about happiness enough to make the story interesting?

I'd lopve to know what y'all think, so please leave me a comment.

RT 2008

It is already March and that means that the 2008 Romantic Times Convention is just around the corner. This will be my first time at this event and I can hardly wait. I'm looking forward to meeting my fellow authors and hope to even get the chance to meet some of the people who have read the Bare Love series, Island Guardian series, Debtor's Daughters series, or some of my stand alone work.
I'll be traveling with fellow authors Cindy Spencer Pape and Brynn Paulin, and rooming with Brynn and Carol Lynne. I know that we will have a blast. So if you are planning to be there as well please say hello! I'd love to meet you. I should be signing book flats at the e book event and then copies of One Good Man with Cindy at the book fair. It will be fantastic to share this first time with Cindy. Especially since we are already working on a follow up to One Good Man.

Hope to see you all there!

Lacey Thorn

Excerpt from Rose Quartz

Excerpt from Rose Quartz

Release date March 20

He sat at the prison library scrolling down the computer screen, his dark eyes glazed and feverish. “Yes, yes, yes, I know all that,” he muttered as he scanned the article, reading:

’Legend has it that out of all the mortals on earth five women found favor with the gods:

Olympia a poor widow with children to feed,

Zoe a young queen whose village was razed and plundered and she herself taken as a slave,

Pelagia who had the body of a woman and the mind of a child,

Helen, who lost four of her children to the plague and begged the gods to spare her remaining child,

and
Sophia whose face was pitted and ravaged by pox.

Moved, the gods created five special amulets in the form of armbands for the women to wear on their forearms.

To Olympia an amulet forged with wealth.

To Zoe an amulet forged with power

To Pelagia an amulet forged with knowledge.

To Helen an amulet forged with healing.

and

For Sophia they forged a molten gold amulet with a lovely rose quartz at its center flanked with deep blue tourmaline stones then infused it with beauty and creativity.

He clicked on the mouse and flipped to another screen…

“It is believed that tourmaline enhances artistic creativity and the rose quartz beauty. The ancient Japanese believed that quartz was formed from the breath of a white dragon and represented perfection. And what more representative of feminine perfection than the lovely pink of rose quartz?”

He stopped reading and leaned back in his chair trying to quell the unholy laughter bubbling in his throat. Yes, Isabella Tremaine represented perfection. Even in death her features would look like chiseled alabaster.

Death would become her, he thought as the laughter he’d tried to swallow spewed over and echoed in a wild parody of sound through the quiet library.

I'm running a contest between now and March 19th. To win a tee shirt stop by: sandracox.blogspot.com