Friday, December 28, 2007

Djinni and the Geek available today!

It's here! Djinni and the Geek, from Ellora's Cave, is a stand-alone sequel to Dragon in the System, which came out in June from Cerridwen Press.

Take a closer look at

Blurb: Computer science professor David Garvaglia is nobody’s idea of a hero. Is he? When David opens an antique puzzle box and finds a Djinni, his first thought isn’t for wishes, it’s how to set her free. Anissa has spent centuries as a prisoner of the box and has dreamed of the day some handsome master would release her. But she also has to adapt to the twenty-first century, and defeat an evil wizard. Besides, once she meets David, she’s not so sure she wants to be freed.

The door to the hallway opened, and Anissa stopped and stared with her shoe halfway to her foot, dumbfounded by the man who stepped into the room. Who was this and what had he done to her master?

“Everything okay?” The gruff velvet voice was right, and so was the strong, thick-fingered hand that idly stroked his chin. The bare skin where a rough red-brown beard had been just an hour ago. His hair was still long, but had been ruthlessly tamed into a small queue at the nape of his neck with a black leather thong. His bright blue eyes were the same, though and they studied her hotly. “Wow. You look amazing.” His deep voice was husky and warm, and Anissa felt it like a caress, all the way to her bones. She felt her face warm in a flush as her womb clenched and her passage moistened, and she focused on her shoes till she could breathe correctly again.

Once she had the velvet pumps in place, she stood and smiled. “As do you.” It was a struggle not to lick her lips and to keep her hands at her sides. A soft blue turtleneck hugged a chest that she could see was broad and thickly muscled, not fat as she had assumed from his baggy sweatshirts. Heathery gray trousers fell from trim hips, and he carried a gray tweed jacket over one arm. She grinned as her eyes continued downward though. From beneath the woolen trousers peeked a pair of perfectly shined combat boots.

“Yeah, this should shock the hell out of them,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “Sorry I didn’t have time for a haircut.”

“I am glad.” The admission popped out of her mouth before she could stop it. “Your hair is—nice.”

His grin was sweet and a little bit shy. He ignored the compliment. “We didn’t think to buy you a purse or anything. You need me to stick anything in my pockets for you? Doesn’t look like there’s much room in that outfit.”

“Is it too small? I could wear the black jeans.” She whirled toward the dresser.

“Whoa there!” He stopped her by laying a hand on her shoulder. The contact of his warm hand on her bare skin pulsed through her like a lance straight to her womb. He had used some sort of cologne or shaving lotion, and the added spiciness to his scent made her knees wobble. “It looks great. I just don’t see any pockets, if you need to take a hairbrush, or some makeup or anything.”

“Oh.” She had to move away from him a step in order to think. “The lipstick, perhaps.”

“Fine.” She fetched it from the bathroom while he put on his coat, and he slid the silver tube into his pocket without hesitation. Then he stood by the door, holding it open for her. “Ready?”

She nodded, ignoring the butterflies that tumbled in her stomach like traveling acrobats. She followed him down the stairs to the kitchen door where he helped her into the long quilted down coat he had purchased, and cut the tags off a pair of soft leather gloves before handing them to her. Then he tucked his wicked-looking folded blade back into the pocket of his trousers. Yes, she now believed that there was more of the warrior to him than she had originally thought.

“There’s just one more thing I’ve got to do before we go.” His whisper was such a low bass rumble she barely heard it.

“What?” She looked up at him, mesmerized by the sheer breadth of him looming so close.

“This.” He leaned down with one hand on the wall, and one holding her elbow in a loose grip.

Then he lowered his face to hers, moving slowly, giving her plenty of time to escape.

She could not have moved, even if she had desired to do so. And truly, she did not wish to. Instead, she went up on her toes to meet him partway.

At first it was just a feather-light brush of his lips against hers. Unfair! She placed both her hands on his shoulders and tugged, bringing him back down. Then she opened her lips and drank him in. He tasted of mint, smelled of spice and man, and it only took a moment for him to take over the kiss. His free arms swept around her waist and drew her up against him while his lips plundered and devoured.

Anissa gave a little moan as her breasts crushed up against his rock-hard chest, and he used that instant to sweep his tongue inside her mouth, teasing, tasting, and seeking out every curve and hollow. Not to be outdone, she stroked it with her own, and they played seek-and-follow until they were both breathless and shaking. Her new underwear and pantyhose were dripping wet and her swollen nipples throbbed against his chest. His long thick shaft pressed into her belly, hard and strong, and she exulted in the knowledge that he wanted her just as she longed for him.

Finally he straightened and stood her back on her feet, steadying her at the waist until she stopped wobbling.

As soon as she could breathe, she blurted out the first thought that popped into her head. “Must we attend this party? We could stay here.”

David drew in a ragged breath. “Don’t tempt me.” He leaned over and did up the top two buttons on her coat. “Now let’s get out of here while we still can.”

“Just one moment.” She looked around, saw a box of tissues by the couch, and grabbed one before returning to David.

“What?” He was still breathing heavily, as was she. Her feminine heart was thrilled to know he was as affected by the kiss as she had been.

She raised the tissue to his face, and wiped at the area around his lips, smiling softly. “Pink, professor, is decidedly not your color.”

Thursday, December 20, 2007

The Isabelle books

A short introduction to -
Isabelle's Story,
Llandrindod Wells, Wales. 1900

Isabelle Linden's parents insist she wed a suitable man. The man they have in mind, Isaac Witherspoon, a curate in a nearby parish is eager to marry. He lusts after nineteen year old Isabelle.
But she has a mind of her own and flaunts society's rules to meet secretly with Sir Harry Manderlin. The lovers vow to remain true to each other while Harry is on an extended business trip to America. He will speak to her father on his return and ask for her hand.
While he's away Isabelle discovers she is pregnant. Harry apparently ignores her letters pleading with him to marry her. Her father orders her out of the house. Abandoned, alone and penniless, she writes a farewell note to her mother and on a dark, rainy October morning makes her way into the hills above the town determined to end her life.
When I reached this point in writing the story my heart ached for my broken hearted heroine. I didn't want her to die. I had a problem. I couldn't skip lightly over her despair. It was too real.
Writers often find themselves up to their ears in problems they've created for their characters. I speak for myself. I dug Isabelle into a hole and had to get her out without destroying the thrust of the story. And there I must leave you to worry about Isabelle and her unborn babe. My book will be released on December 27.
Isabelle's Story, a historical romance is the sequel to Isabelle's Diary, a contemporary romance. Both stories are set in and around the old Welsh spa town, Llandrindod Wells, once famously known for its healing waters.
And now for another topic that concerns me. It's about our covers. I've been told that sexy covers sell books. But if my two Isabelle stories are not classed as "sexy" and the covers reflect the books I wonder how to catch a reader's attention? It's a puzzle because there is lovemaking in my books and might be classed "hot"although that term troubles me. When is sex hot and when is it not? If one of my goddess friends has an answer, please comment.

Monday, December 17, 2007

Awakening the Dragon Authored by Theresa Chaze

Theresa Chaze has been described as the woman who plays with dragons, especially the dragons of the mind. She leads her readers to magical realms and others worlds. Her work is based on her philosophy that all peoples can live together in peace as long as we come from respect, not only for ourselves but those who follow different paths or beliefs. Whether fiction or non fiction, Ms Chaze uses her talent to help others find the path to healing and take back their own power. In many ways, she is a life coach who helps others find alternative life paths and regain their passion. Her work has been compared to Marion Zimmer Bradley and Anne McCaffrey with an adult version of Harry Potter mixed in. Theresa Chaze's major works so far include the first two novels of the Dragon Clan Trilogy , a ebook of Shadows, Out of the Shadows and Into the Light, and a free fantasy ebook called, Sisters, Mother, Daughters. Her screenplay, Never Can Say Good-bye, is one of the 2006 winners of the Gloria Film Festival. She publishes an ezine called, Messages From the Universe, which is available on her site

Buy this book! I found myself smiling when I finished the last page of Awakening The Dragon--Book One of the Dragon Clan Trilogy (formally Dragon's New Home), by Theresa Chaze. I've read a pretty good number of books in my life, but none have given me quite the mix of emotions that this books has.
Joe Murphy, The Dragon Page

Magic, Mystery, and Murder. The three M's! Ms. Chaze shows colorful, visual language that will even keep the romance novel buff obsessed in finishing this novel in one read! The pacing is excellent the main character strong and likeable, and the hint of romance to come in the final installments of the trilogy. I must say I'm already addicted to Ms. Chaze's writing style! A guaranteed page turner! Bring on the rest of the trilogy!
Catherine J. St. Amour, author
Therese Chaze draws her readers in from the first page and refuses to release them until the last word of this fantastic tale of witches, magic, love and betrayal. Set in the village of Coyote Springs, Dragon Domain is a book of lessons; lessons on love, forgiveness, and above all truth to oneself. In the grand traditions of Anne McCaffrey and Marion Zimmer Bradley, Therese Chaze captures the imagination as well as the heart of her readers. Dragon Domain is an open door to a world of wonder, and from the first page to the last, you will be hard pressed to put it down.
Linda Rucker, author
Thank you for coming, Theresa!
Can you tell us where everyone can pick up a copy of Awakening the Dragon?
Both are distributed by Ingram and Baker & Taylor, so they are available through most bookstores. In addition, they are on Amazon. However, two things about ordering online. The previous versions are still listed. Please only buy the new versions that have been released by Valkyrie Publishing. They both have the Dragon Clan Trilogy listed in the title. Plus, I have my own store through Amazon. It’s listed as Easternguardian. When you buy books from me, I will autograph them. The direct link is can be found here.

Sunday, December 16, 2007

Dancer's Delight by Anny Cook

Folks this looks like a must read:

Here's an excerpt from my second book Dancer’s Delight available now

from Cerridwen Press.

Excerpt One: Dancer’s Delight by Anny Cook (Unedited)

Quiet fell over the concert hall as the orchestra moved into the first notes of the closing composition. Perched on a stool in the center of the stage, the musician known simply as Devereaux calmly waited for his cue before launching into his signature piece, Devereaux’s Dance. The guitar notes seemed to leap into the air, glittering and dancing as his fingers flew across the strings. When the last note shimmered across the hall, a deep moment of silence preceded a storm of applause. Devereaux bowed low, accepting the audience’s acclaim, then strode from the stage, his mind already occupied with the next step in his plan.

In his dressing room, he quickly stripped off his formal clothing and stepped into the small shower stall. His friend and agent, Jake was waiting when he stepped back into the dressing room naked except for a small towel wrapped around his hips. Jake waggled one eyebrow in query. “No encore?”

When he shrugged in reply, the blue and green dragon tattoo that stretched across his left shoulder and biceps rippled. Jerking on the clothing laid out—gray silk boxers, soft faded jeans, plain navy blue t-shirt and polished black cowboy boots—Devereaux nodded once. “I’ll give them one. Two minutes, Jake. After the encore, I’m out of here. No interviews. No autographs.”

Jake soberly studied his friend and client. The hard, honed body usually camouflaged beneath a specially tailored tux was obvious in the soft comfortable jeans and shirt. Devereaux’s golden hip length hair, normally tucked out of site beneath his jacket, slithered across his taut butt, confined in an elaborate French braid. “You’re really coming out of the closet, Dev and going out there like that? Your fans don’t know what a predator you really are.”

“They’ll get over it,” Dev replied shortly while he shoved his wallet into his back pocket and slid a handful of change and his keys in his front pocket. “Next week, there will be a new sensation and they’ll be saying ‘Devereaux who?’ “

Jake snorted in disgust. “Right! How many virtuoso musicians of your caliber play to sell out crowds? Violinists at your level are rare enough, but you play nearly every stringed instrument that exists! I’m not announcing your retirement. Go on this search you’ve planned. Find your damned mystery woman. When you get her out of your system, let me know and I’ll arrange another tour.” Shaking his head, he slammed out the door.

Dev surveyed the small room and pondered how anxious Jake would be to arrange another tour if he knew that it was just a cover for Dev’s day job as an assassin. With the grim black humor he’d developed over the years, he decided that he should have acquired business cards with the legend Troubleshooter for Hire. Maybe print it in blood red ink with a black rifle underscoring the title.

Once Jake was gone, Dev retrieved his personal weapons from their hiding places and swiftly distributed them about his person, before shrugging on his long black leather duster. He strapped on his chrome watch, slipped tiny gold hoops in his ear lobes and slid his passport in his inside coat pocket. As a final touch, before leaving the dressing room, he put on his dark glasses and ducked to survey himself in the mirror. Not many dressing rooms were designed for someone over six four. Grinning, he shook his head, snagged his black cowboy hat and departed.

Stunned silence rippled across the auditorium as he strode confidently to the center of the stage with a sexy loose-hipped motion, took his violin and bow in hand and with no further ado, leaped into his most recent solo composition, never before performed in public. The reviewers the next day raved about the appropriately titled, Dancer’s Delight, while avidly dissecting his changed appearance. What was not reported was the fact that Devereaux vanished when he walked off the stage after his final performance.

Buy here:

Saturday, December 15, 2007

Interview with Author Anny Cook

Joining us to day is Ms. Anny Cook. Anny, tell us about your current project.

At the moment, I have two. One is a ménage titled The Kama Sutra Lovers. The “actions” are based on random drawings from a Kama Sutra deck of cards. Hmmm. Enough about that one. The other is tentatively titled Love at Last. It’s the next book in the Mystic Valley series, another two-fer story about Bishop and his half-brother Nikolas and how they find the two women perfect for them.

2. Do you think a writer needs an agent?

For myself, I don’t think so. I don’t have one and I’m not looking for one as I’m not interested in publishing for a New York house. I like what I’m doing now.

3. Does music beckon your muse?

It depends on the day. Some days I write with the minimal boost. Other days, I could definitely use something to put me in the mood. When I worked on my Christmas book, I listened to Christmas carols.

4. If so, what type of music?

Usually, I prefer writing to Josh Groban’s music. Many of his songs are in Italian or Spanish which means that I can enjoy his voice without the words interfering with my writing. I find that if I listen to a singer in English, the words get stuck in my head and I end up typing the song! Not productive at all.

5. What’s your preference: getting a tooth pulled or writing a synopsis?

Oh, writing the synopsis. Anesthesia doesn’t work well on me so getting a tooth pulled is a real pain. The synopsis doesn’t bother me too much. I spent a lot of time in school summarizing books and stories, so a synopsis is pretty similar, isn’t it? I think it’s a scary word. Try using the word summarize instead.

6. What books of yours are currently for sale and where can a reader buy them?

Oh, wow! Well, First of all, the Mystic Valley series is all for sale: Dancer’s Delight from Cerridwen Press, Everything Lovers Can Know, Traveller’s Refuge, and Cherished Destinies are all from Ellora’s Cave. And the first Flowers of Camelot book, Chrysanthemum is also for sale from Ellora’s Cave. The second one, Honeysuckle will be available January 30th. And my first book in the Ardent Angels series, Winter Hearts will be available December 12th from Ellora’s Cave.

Friday, December 14, 2007

A holiday excerpt

Do you want to win some fantastic holiday reading? If so come celebrate the Twelve days of Romance with 12 authors from Ellora's Cave, Total-E-Bound, Cerridwen Press, and The Wild Rose Press. Each day beginning December 8th and running through December 19th one of the twelve authors will tell what their "True love gave to them" on either their blog or website. Just check each of the sites until you find that day’s gift. All answers will remain posted once they are up, so there is no problem if you start a few days late. There will be three lucky winners. Collect all twelve answers and e-mail them to with 12 days of Christmas in the subject line to win some great books.

The prizes:
1st prize--6 books
2nd prize--4 books
3rd prize--2 books
All books and prize winners will be drawn randomly.

Anny Cook Winter Hearts
Sandra Cox Boji Stones
Bronwyn Green Ronan’s Grail
Heather Hiestand Cards Never Lie
Barbara Huffert Deal of a Lifetime
Amarinda Jones Mad About Mirabelle
Kelly Kirch Time for Love
Cindy Spencer Pape The Cowboy’s Christmas Bride
Brynn Paulin Fallen
Jacquéline Roth Access Denied
KZ Snow Mrs. Claws
Lacey Thorn Earth Moves

Here's a holiday sleigh ride excerpt from The Cowboy's Christmas Bride, available now in e-book and print from The Wild Rose Press.

The combination of old-fashioned craftsmanship and modern technology was never more apparent than now, while Allison watched CJ hooking up a pair of sturdy draft horses to a beautiful antique sleigh. It would have been a scene straight out of a Courier and Ives painting,
except for the pair of bright yellow snowmobiles parked alongside the sleigh in the unheated “garage” portion of the barn.

CJ looped the reins over the front of the sleigh, and tied them loosely. “Want to go for a test drive?” he offered, walking up beside her. “The others won’t mind finishing up without us.”

She also wasn’t sure if spending time alone with CJ was such a good idea right now. Her stomach had been tied up in knots all morning, between coping with Trip’s flirting, the sisters’ matchmaking, and CJ’s seeming indifference.

“Okay,” she replied hesitantly, rubbing the nose of one of the huge gray horses. She’d gotten past her initial fear of them quickly. “What kind of horses are these?”

“Percherons,” CJ answered, handing her up into the sleigh, before opening the garage-style overhead door. “An old friend of my dad’s breeds them, and we’ve always kept a team for the haywagon and sleigh.”

“Do you ride them?” They were enormous animals, but then so were CJ and his brothers!

“No,” he chuckled. “I keep the quarter horses for riding and working the cattle.”
There were half a dozen or so of the slightly smaller horses in the barn, she remembered, including Belle, the pregnant mare. “Quarter what?”

He laughed, as he led the team out through the wide door, and Allison blinked at the bright sunlight glinting off the snow. “Quarter horses,” he explained. “It’s a breed, like poodle, or Labrador. Belle’s foal is my first attempt at breeding them.”

He climbed up beside her on the high seat of the sleigh, and Allison moved closer, closing the gap between them. It felt right, she decided. She resolved to ignore her doubts and enjoy the afternoon. With an expert flick of CJ’s strong wrist, the horses began to move. Allison was astonished by the tranquil beauty of the snow, the sunshine, and the musical clop of the Frisbee-sized hooves. Even more stunning, in her opinion, was the strong, quiet man who sat beside her.

“How are you holding up?” he asked finally. “Is everybody treating you all right? I know it’s a bigger crowd than you’re used to.”

She shrugged. “I’ll be okay,” she answered.

Neither of them spoke for the next several minutes, as CJ guided the team down the road away from both house and barn. Just around a bend screened by a grove of evergreen trees, CJ pulled the horses to a halt and turned to Allison. She looked up expectantly, certain that he was going to kiss her.

He didn’t. After staring at her for a few seconds, he turned and clicked his tongue at the horses, starting the sleigh moving again.

“What’s wrong, CJ?” Allison asked.

No answer. Allison shivered at the cold breeze as they moved across the snowy field. “Did I do something to upset you?”

“Of course not,” he replied.

“Then what’s wrong?”

He shrugged. “Nothing.”

She had to resist the urge to strangle him. Honestly, men could be such idiots! “Was it the book?”

“What?” His expression seemed genuinely confused for a second, then he shook his head, gave her a hint of a smile. “No, of course not. The book was fine.”

“I know I told you I hate lawyers. I hope you don’t think it was an insult, or anything,” she continued. “I wanted to find something more personal, but I didn’t have any idea where to look. The only time I was alone was at the bookstore.”

“Harry knew I wanted the book. It’s fine.” He didn’t sound fine, he sounded exasperated—for CJ. His face had gone funny when she made the lawyer remark, but she didn’t want to push him. Instead, she tried to bridge the gap physically. She leaned her head on his shoulder. “Thanks, CJ. For everything. The invitation, the gifts, but mostly for including me. This was the nicest Christmas I’ve had in years. Maybe forever.”

“I’m glad,” he rumbled, putting an arm around her waist. “Let me know if the rest of the clan gets on your nerves too much.”

Did he mean Trip? She thought he was jealous of Trip’s flirting, but she wasn’t sure, and she sure didn’t want to bring the subject up. She tried to hedge a reply. “I think they’re all very nice. Especially the kids. They’re so enthusiastic, though, it can be exhausting just watching them.”

He chuckled. “I know what you mean. I love having them visit, but I’ll be just as glad in a couple of days when they all go home.”

He seemed to be in a better mood now, so she was quiet for a few minutes, lost in the picture-book beauty around her. Then another nasty thought occurred to her, and slipped out of her mouth before she could stop it. “Is it about the mistletoe?”

He didn’t say anything, he just grunted. She took that as a yes. “You know I’m not interested in him, right?”

More silence.

She pushed on. “Your brother is something else, but I’d never even think about taking him seriously. He flirts with every female he sees, even Rose. Besides, he only pays attention to me because it makes you mad.”

“My siblings…”

His voice dropped off and another terrible thought occurred to her. “Oh no! They don’t think I’m kind of—well—loose, do they?”

“What?” She could tell she’d surprised him, he straightened so quickly his shoulder jerked out from under her cheek. It took all her balance to avoid falling off the seat.

“I mean, I was engaged to somebody else just a few days ago. And now, I’m—I mean—you and I—” She was sure she was blushing now, and not just from the wind.

CJ pulled the horses to a halt again, then touched her cheek with one gloved hand, turning her face to his. “No,” he said simply, then dropped an exquisitely tender kiss on her cheek. “Nobody thinks that.” There was such fierce sincerity in his eyes and his voice, that she was compelled to believe him.

“Good,” she replied with a shaky smile.

“No, what they think is that you’d be perfect for Trip.”

“You’ve got to be kidding!”

He held up three fingers. “Boy Scout word of honor.”

She snorted out a laugh. “I can’t believe it. Even Fitz? He can’t stand me.”

CJ sighed. “Who know what he thinks? You’ve got to understand, Allie, Fitz has his hang-ups like everybody else. For Fitz, it’s women from the big city. He got his heart broken once, and he’s held a grudge ever since. But he’s not a bad person, Allie. He’ll come around.”

But would she still be here when he did? Allison had no idea. All she knew was that her feelings for CJ were growing with each passing day, and if she was going to leave Wyoming with her heart intact, she might need to do it soon. She opened her mouth to speak, but didn’t get the chance. CJ had swooped in for another kiss, and it was all Allison could do just to hang on.

Tuesday, December 11, 2007

Desiree Holt, Author of Where Danger Hides

Desiree Holt, a member of the Goddesses of Storytelling blog, is taking December off for some much needed R&R. She has agreed to let me post excerpts and reviews of her novel Where Danger Hides available at

Ellora's Cave.

Where Danger Hides

It’s been a bad week for Taylor Scott. First her grandmother dies, then she discovers her father is alive, not dead, and when she tries to see him he has her thrown out of his office. Angry and disillusioned, she drowns her sorrows with a gorgeous stranger in the hotel bar, and indulges in the wildest night of erotic sex she’s ever experienced. Back in Florida she’s wrapping up her grandparents’ estate and looking to make some changes in her life when she learns her father, a Texas billionaire, has been murdered. And who shows up in her office to drag her back to Texas but the stranger from the hotel – Noah Cantrell, her father’s vice president and closest confidante. With his empire unexpectedly in her hands, she’s thrust into a world of international intrigue where the person next to her could be the murderer. Things are complicated by the high voltage passion that explodes between her and Noah, a passion that no matter how they seem to fight it, sweeps them along on a treacherous current. Is Noah friend or foe? And what will happen when the truth finally comes out?



RT Rating: 4 Stars

Category: EROTICA


Published: January 2008

Type: Erotic Romance (E-book)

Holt pens an exciting, rapid-paced tale that's sure to keep the pages flying. A sexy alpha male and a fiery heroine create a dynamic couple readers can stand behind. The love scenes scorch the pages, and overall, this is a compelling, satisfying novel with emotionally driven characters.

Summary: Discovering that her life has been a well-structured lie, Taylor Scott is in the mood for a little rebellion. She begins with a night of uninhibited sex with the dangerous-looking stranger sitting next to her. She never intends to see him again, but he has other plans.Noah Cantrell has come to fetch Taylor to San Antonio to persuade her to take over a corporation from a man she has never met -- her father. As the passion rises between them, they must hunt down a vicious killer bent on keeping secrets buried. (, dl $6.49)—Keitha Hart


Taylor felt shock ripple through him and she clutched harder at the fabric of his jacket to keep him from pulling back. She wanted this man in ways she’d never wanted anyone else. Ways that startled her as her body reacted in an unfamiliar manner. She almost pulled back, frightened at the explosion of desire streaking through her, but determination overrode trepidation. For all the things she’d lost and the ones she’d never had, she deserved this. She pressed her tongue hard against his mouth, and whether from shock or desire he opened and she tasted him. Whiskey and coffee and mint combined to produce a heady flavor that tantalized her sense of taste. She sucked at his tongue, drawing him into her mouth in a kiss more sensuous than she’d ever permitted herself. Or ever wanted.
His hand gripped her upper arms tightly as if to push her away but she had a death grip on his lapels. She was so damned tired of being strait-laced and obedient. The past week had stripped away all the steel bands restricting her life, with today finishing the job. All that obedience had been for nothing. Now she wanted wild, a night that would help her blot out all the dark feelings rampaging through her.
With a groan the man pulled her closer. His own tongue responded to hers, sweeping into her mouth, leaving no inch of the dark wetness untouched. The slight roughness of it scraped across the sensitive tissues, calling each hidden nerve into play. His lips fused to hers, pressing down on them, devouring them, as his fingers dug into her shoulders.
They stood suspended in the darkness, sensations from the kiss rocketing through her body and drawing forth reactions from parts of her body long dormant. Her nipples began to tingle and she felt wetness seeping between her thighs. She would give anything to stay this way forever, balanced on a precipice.
He was the first to break away, looking down at her with glittering eyes. “I think you’ve had far too much to drink.”
Taylor was trying to find her breath but all the air seemed to have been sucked out of her lungs. The pulse that beat between her legs was echoing through her core. She knew about “getting hot” and “getting wet” but this was the first time a man had made her feel it. The drinks had nothing to do with what was happening to her. It was the man, a powerful jungle animal who called to the hidden wildness within her.
“This is my idea, not the whiskey.” She pulled in another breath and tried to drag his face down to hers again.
He tightened his hands on her shoulders, a strangled sound erupting from his throat. “I’m a stranger. You can’t just pick me up and take me to your room like this. Don’t you know things like that aren‘t safe?”
“I don’t think you’ll harm me,” she whispered. “I don’t know why but I trust you.”
And wasn’t that absurd, when she’d hardly trusted anyone all her life. Yet something in him gave her a sense of security, certainly unusual when locked in the darkness with a caged panther. “Please don’t pull away.” With slightly trembling fingers she shifted his tie out of the way and began to unbutton his shirt. She pressed her body against him, rubbing herself against the hard erection the layers of clothing between them couldn’t hide.
“This is insanity.” His voice was hard and edgy, his grip on her tightening almost to the point of pain. “There are things about me you don’t know.”
Taylor licked the bare skin of his chest that she’d exposed and slid her hands inside his shirt. The warmth of his body almost burned her. Beneath the hot male skin he was harder than steel, his muscles like ropes of steel. As her tongue found his soft chest and the tip of it danced over him, his breathing hitched.
She looked up at him, struggling to bring out words. “Are you a wanted criminal? Do you have a deadly disease? No? Then I don’t care about anything else.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I want this. I want you.”

Night Owl Romances Review

Where Danger Hides
Desire Holt (Author Website)
Review Date: 10/7/2007
ISBN: 9781419910630
Score: 4/5
Date Available:Out Now
Rating Scale
1 - Has major problems

2 - An ok Read

2.5 - Could have been done a bit differently

3 – A great Read
3.5 – An excellent Read

4 - A Page Turner

4.5– A book I would keep on my shelf

5 - Lifetime keeper!

Genre(s): Erotica
Just when you think life sucks, somehow it manages to get worse. Taylor Scott finds out her life is a lie. After a lifetime of allowing her grandparent’s dictate her life as they pleased, Taylor finds her father really hadn’t left her mother. Then she is practically kicked out of her father’s company when Taylor tries to contact him, so as an act of defiance and celebration she decides to get drunk. This goes pretty well, it gets even better when she meets a handsome stranger at the hotel bar and seduces him as a coup de grace. This is the high point of her life so far, because she later finds out that the handsome stranger she can’t keep her hands off is her father’s right hand man. Her father, Josiah Gaines, is killed in an accident on his way back from the airport, under suspicious circumstances and Noah Cantrell wants to find out who did it and why. In order to do that he has to convince the luscious vixen he imprudently slept with to help him do that. Together they investigate her father’s last few days, will they be able to find the culprits before they kill Taylor as well?With lots of action and explosive desire, Desiree weaves an exciting plot guaranteed to have you on the edge of your seats.
After a night of wild sex with a total stranger, Taylor Scott never expected to see the man again. What a shock when he walked into her office weeks later as the representative of the father she never knew she had, a man who'd left her his entire empire. With her father's killers still at large and vultures hovering to pick apart his massive corporation, Noah Cantrell soon becomes the only person she can trust. He's also the man who teaches her the pleasures of erotic love, demanding her body even as he sets barriers to any kind of personal relationship — because Noah has a dark secret he never shares, one that prevents him from ever opening himself up to anyone again except in bed.As the two follow a treacherous path through the world of corporate intrigue, a path that takes them from the corporate boardroom to the jungles of Mexico, with the sex growing hotter by the night, can Taylor find a way break through that wall he's built around himself?:

Stop by Ellora's Cave and purchase Desiree Holt's Where Danger Hides

Sunday, December 9, 2007

Welcome Guest Blogger Marilyn Morris, Author of Diagnosis: Lupus

Welcome Marilyn Morris, Author of Diagnosis: Lupus
Thanks for dropping by on your Virtual Book Tour. Today we learn about your book and you have agreed to answer some questions.

Diagnosis: Lupus : The Intimate Journal of a Lupus Patient

Book Description: When she was suddenly assaulted by myriad baffling symptoms of joint pain and extreme fatigue, the author embarked on an intensive search for diagnosis and treatment of what would be diagnosed as systemic lupus erythematosus, a little-known autoimmune disease that promised to destroy her body, her mind and her spirit. From the pages of her intimate daily journal, we travel with her through chronic joint pain, frustration, anger and grief for her former self to her current state of remission. Far from being a litany of complaints, the author’s pages reveal her unexpected spiritual growth and gratitude for life itself, and she hopes she can be of help to others who suffer from this disease or other chronic illnesses.

Thanks for answering some questions about your writing.

1) How old were you when did you start writing?I've always written, since I was in kindergarten and had a pencil in my hand. I figured out right away that the letters on the blackboard made words, and words made sentences, and sentences made stories. I was off and running!
2) Why did decide you wanted to be a writer?I think the answer is "revenge." I was in a very troubled marriage, too afraid to escape it, so I turned my energies to writing for publication. My husband, in the divorce decree, wanted to include a clause that stipulated any income I derived from my writing while I was married to him would entitle him to half the proceeds. I squashed that right away, and when 'Sabbath's Room" came out, I felt such a thrill. It was also kind of "See, I told I could do it!"
3) What was the first job you had with writing?Actually, I began with a local newspaper, writing a couple of columns. Then I turned my attention to Sabbath's Room. I had been editing some work for a friend who had his book published, and I thought, hey, if he can do it, so can I.
4) In your life who has influenced you the most? I pull on my parents, who recognized my drive early on, and encouraged me.
5)How many books have you written?Three, so far. Or four, really, if you can count the one that's hanging out there in limbo.

The first book and my first novel is Sabbath's Room, Publish America, 2001. It's a paranormal murder mystery:When New York writer Joanna Elliott flees her abusive husband to the Texas Hill Country, she and her six-year old son Jason unwittingly become a killer’s prey.Despite Realtor Tommy Joe Greenleaf’s warning that Wanda and Ralph Spencer had mysteriously disappeared from the remote farmhouse ten years earlier, Joanna moves in, and makes the sun room into her office.Joanna adopts a cat from the local veterinarian, Sam Kelly, who tells her that Sabbath “had belonged to a witch.” Immediately, unexplained events unfold: Joanna is locked overnight inside the storage shed, footprints appear under the sun room windows, and Jason’s dog, Mournful is found poisoned.Sheriff Judson Pollard investigates. He is puzzled by Wilma Foulkes’indifference to her sister’s fate, the activities of an itinerant evangelist, Brother Adam, and Joanna’s former husband has arrived in town.
My second publication is Once a Brat, Publish America, 2002:As one of the first dependents to be sent overseas at the end of WWII, eight-year old Marilyn Celeste Morris received her very own orders from The War Department. From Seoul, Korea to Linz, Austria, she traversed the globe from 1938 to 1958 with her Army Officer father, mother and younger brothers. Between assignments in the primitive world of the Far East, to the sublime luxury of exploring castles in Bavaria, the family shuttled between the various Stateside Forts: Bragg, Bliss, Hood and Sill. Sometimes hilarious, sometimes gut-wrenchingly sad, her narrative is part travelogue, part therapy session. She still cries at “Taps” and stands tall when the colors pass; yet she realizes she carries an odd mixture of pride and resentment over her nomadic way of life.Her conclusion, however, is that she wouldn’t have had it any other way.Once a Brat, Always a Brat.
My third publication is Diagnosis: Lupus: The Intimate Journal of a Lupus Patient, Publish America 2005.An intimate journey of a lupus patient taken from personal journals as she embarks on a three-year, five doctor search for a diagnosis of her baffling symptoms.
My fourth published work is The Women of Camp Sobingo, released on June 9, 2007 as an ebook by Mardi Gras Publishing.Four women of diverse backgrounds form a bond while en route to join their Army officer husbands in Korea in 1946.Their experiences in a far-flung military compound strengthen three of the women, but a fourth chooses to end her life, and during a reunion twenty-five years later, long-held dark secrets and sorrows are revealed.The site has since closed down and this novel will probably be tied up in bankruptcy proceedings for quite some time.
6) Which aspects of the work that you put into the book did you find most difficult?I'll take my lupus book as an example for that. I can deal with making up stories and characters who encounter various difficulties, but with my lupus book, I laid my feelings bare. I exposed all my little secrets, like having a melt-down in my parish priest's office because I couldn't afford my prescription meds that month; raging at God for allowing this to happen and admitting that I had difficulty accepting help from others and from various government agencies such as the country health system. But I also recognized that I learned much about myself and was willing to share it with others so they won't feel alone.
7) Which did you enjoy most? Why is this? I found my work just flowed, explaining why I wrote the book, what I had learned and how this book might help others, thus setting the stage for the actual journal entries.What sets the book apart from the other things you've written?It's factual, and I expose my shortcomings.
8)How did you get to be the writer that you are? Applying the seat of the pants to the office chair. No matter what. I consider writing every day to be my occupation, and my "paycheck" is the thrill of holding MY book in my hands.
Marilyn Celeste Morris may be reached by email: to schedule a speaking engagement or arrange for editing services.Her book is available at

An Excerpt of Marilyn's Blog
Someone You Know Has Lupus 4:35 PM PDT, May 15, 2007
Half of the Proceeds from the Sale of This Book Will be Donated to The Lupus Foundation of America for Research to Find a Cure for This Disease.

The Story Behind Diagnosis: Lupus: The Intimate Journal of a Lupus Patient
Like many lupus patients, I had suffered for years before finding a diagnosis and treatment for this baffling disease. As part of my ongoing personal therapy, I had kept a daily journal, venting my frustrations, pain, hope and despair as this disease progressed and no progress was on the horizon. I wrote of losing jobs, applying for food stamps standing in line at the Unemployment Commission, filling out volumes of paperwork for various agencies, and seeing a “shrink” at one of the Alphabet Soup social services agencies, all the time in physical pain that responded to no treatment.***
First, Some Facts…..Some symptoms of lupus:Do you have/ever had/been told you have:Achy, painful and/or swollen joints for more than three months;Fingers and/or toes becoming pale, numb or uncomfortable in the cold;Sores in the mouth for more than two weeks;Been told you have a low blood count, anemia, low white cell count or a low platelet count;Ever had a prominent redness or color change in the shape of a butterfly across the bridge of your nose and cheeks;An unexplained fever over 100 degrees for more than a few days;A sensitivity to the sun where the skin breaks out after being in the sun (not a sunburn);Had chest pain with breathing for more than a few days (pleurisy);Been told you had protein in your urine;Experienced persistent, extreme fatigue and weakness for days or weeks at a time even after 6-8 hours of restful nighttime sleep.If you have 3 or more symptoms, you should see your doctor.

According to the Lupus Foundation of America, Lupus is more common than Leukemia, Hodgkin’s Disease, Muscular Dystrophy, Cystic Fibrosis and Multiple Sclerosis. And yet, the average person rarely knows about lupus and is generally misinformed, vaguely believing it to be “kind of like arthritis, isn’t it?” While my symptoms first presented themselves as “kind of like arthritis,” and I was thus diagnosed and treated for two years for RA, other symptoms soon presented themselves, until, after three emotionally charged and pain-filled years from the onset of symptoms, laboratory tests confirmed the presence of SLE, or Systemic Lupus Erythematosus.There are two distinct types of lupus. One is discoid lupus, where the skin shows large “splotches” or red rashes in clusters, mostly on the face, across the cheeks and the bridge of the nose, creating a “wolf-like” mask. One can have discoid lupus and systemic lupus at the same time; generally, those who suffer with the discoid form of lupus do not develop the systemic form.The second is systemic lupus; that is, it is throughout the body. It has been classified as “an autoimmune disease.”Lupus has nothing to do with AIDS, I must point out. I like the ‘short’, understandable description of what lupus is: Think of the body as a fort, like in the Wild West Days. Every now and then, Indians would attack the fort, and the soldiers inside the fort (white blood cells) would repel the Indians (the infection). Then the fort (body) would settle down and go back to its usual routine, until the next Indian attackOnly with lupus, THERE ARE NO INDIANS. The soldiers inside the fort are ever ready for an attack, but the Indians don’t arrive, so the soldiers (stressed) turn on each other, fighting among themselves, eventually destroying the fort itself: lungs, kidneys, central nervous system, etc.As of this printing, there is no cure, but it is treatable.*****
For more information or to make a donation, go to Celeste Morris
Yet I also found in these pages, as I looked back on them from my current stage of remission, a spark of hope, a determination to survive and even thrive, and a realization that God had not forsaken me. I joined a local Lupus Support Group, sponsored by the Lupus Foundation of America, and discovered many members had felt the same as I had; yet they had also felt so alone in this disease’s symptoms. That was when I decided to take the best – and worst – of my journal entries and put them into a book format, which was released in 2005.This book has been designated in the Lupus Now magazine, Spring 2007 edition as earning the LFA Education Committee Seal of Approval.

Friday, December 7, 2007

News and Views

Sorry I'm late with my goddess blog. I've had a busy day and it's not over yet. It's 2.09 pm on the west coast. Soon the sun will go down and night will fall and the stars will come out. I love the bright winter sky. Several years ago I visited Baffin Island and stayed in a small Inuit village. The aurora borealis danced across the sky night after night. It is a fabulous sight and it came with sound effects - it crackled.
Having opened with a sky report I'll press on with something else. I am doing all the wrong things when it comes to my writing. Beginners should stick to one genre! Stick to one genre to capture readers. And so on. Repeat that over and over. Meditate on it.
My mind refuses to work that way. Ideas pop into my head. First lines pop into my head. Locations pop into my head. And I want to play. My first book was a historical romance, A Very Difficult Man. Then my husband and I visited Llandrindod Wells in Wales and I saw a girl dressed in black sitting at a window table in a cafe. That triggered my second book, Isabelle's Diary and the sequel to that, Isabelle's Story will be released on December 27.
And then ... we visited Cornwall and I fell in love with the King Arthur stories and the magical atmosphere pervading the countryside. My time travel, Ring Around The Moon, came from that visit. I'll say more about my romantic suspense in a few weeks.
A first line popped into my head about a year ago. "You will, of course, accept my offer." I heard a man's voice. What could I do? I started to write a contemporary romance. Do other goddesses have bad habits they'd like to share? Do you stay with one genre? It's too late for me to change my bad habits.

To read excerpts and find out more about me go to my web site, or visit my blog,
The major purpose of memory is to predict the future

Thursday, December 6, 2007

A Sexy Pirate Ghost ~ Who could ask for More?

Brigand Love by Isabelle Drake
is available now

at Amazon shorts for only .49!

What's it about?

Restless and unsatisfied with her life, Lacey is looking for answers. But the recurring dream that haunts her sleep delivers only more questions. When the fierce brigand of her nights seeks her out, Lacey’s tormenting dreams become reality and her past becomes her present.

Link to Buy @ (Romance Shorts)

Tuesday, December 4, 2007

Guest Blogger Sydney Molare Author of Devil's Orchestra

This evening we have a Guest Blogger.
Sydney Molare, Author of Devil's Orchestra is stopping on one leg of her Virtual Book Tour.

Thanks for stopping by Syndney. On and we learned a little about you and about your book Devil's Orchestra. Today you have graciously agreed to answer some questions.

1) Why did you become a writer? Was it a dream of yours since you were younger or did the desire to write happen later in your life? I was a late bloomer. I actually began writing as a way to vent when my marriage was going the way of the dinosaurs. So I actually wrote my first piece in 2001.

2) What do you love about being an author? Is there anything you dislike? Love? Gushing emails trumpeting my greatness to that particular person. Dislike? Author jealousy I've encountered on tours.

3) How do you balance your personal and writing time? I can't honestly say I've got it all balanced. Right now, it feels like life has got me by the hinny and I'm just swinging in the wind. But what I try to do, is work as a veterinarian during the day and then become Sydney Molare nights and weekends. LOL.

4) I have visited your website The Devil’s Orchestra at It seems like you enjoy stirring the pot a bit. Is that something you have always been interested in doing? Did your desire to shake things up come from a particular incident in your life? I like pushing the envelope, tackling controversial subjects people shy away from, scratch a soul or two. As far as where it came from, I've always been my parent's rebel child. They tend to be too pacifist for me. Where they say, walk away, I like to stay until both parties have an "understanding" about the situation, whatever it is. Yes, I got punished plenty as a kid. LOL.

5) How do you write? Do your characters come to you first or the plot or the world of the story? It's really a mixture. I know people talk about outlines, but a character will pop into my head and I tend to shelve them if they aren't applicable to what I'm writing currently. Then when a plot pops into my head, I got back to my character shelf, pluck one off, and see where they lead me.

6) What genre(s) do you write? Why do you write the stories that you write? I'm cross-genred: Short stories, erotica/romantica, mystery/suspense, quasi-Christian and mainstream. I will tell anyone, i write stories I would like to read.

7) Is there any type of book you would not want to write? Is there something you would like to try but have not written yet? Honestly, I feel that to be a great writer, you should be like a great actor: able to write anything with a little research. I can't think of a genre I abhor. I read everything so I think giving a shot at writing in a new genre would be a pleasant challenge. There are many books in my head to be written. I recently finished a paranormal erotica. I thought that was great fun! But an unchartered genre I'm planning, probably the children's fiction arena.

8) What is the biggest misconception about being an author? That you make plenty of money and that it is easy.

9) Do you tend to base your characters on real people or are they totally from your imagination? Actually, my characters are compilations of real and imagined. I may use a mannerism from this person, with a speech pattern from that, add in what I'd like to see, and voile' we have a character.

10) Out of all the characters that you've written, who is your favorite and why? I'm a Southern fiction junkie so Madame A in Grandmama's Mojo STill Working is definitely my favorite. This is a feisty 75 YO grandmother who has two boyfriends. She lives life on her terms and to heck with those who have something to say about it. Shucks, I want to be her when I get older. Something about those sharp women in those flamboyant hats down here in the South. Can't wait!

11) If you were writing a script for the big screen, who would you want to act in your movie? This is a tough question. An big name would get the movie seen...but I'm also partial to the unknown underdog. I don't have anyone "penciled in my mind" yet, so I think the best course would be to put the script out, let them duke it out and to the winner goes the spoils. LOL.

12) What would you want readers to take away from your books? I want my books to scratch their souls, make them think, leave them rubbing their chins going, "Hmmmm." Every book has a message or theme to it, so I'm hoping they "get" it.

13) Do you have any advice for beginning writers in regards to writing a book?
Sydney Confucius says, "The road to publication will not be without bumps, bruises, many reams of paper and red ink."

Don't take too much advice from too many people. Use common sense and talk to other published authors and you should be fine.

14) Who are your favorite authors? James Patterson, Eric Jerome Dickey, Jude Devereaux, John Grisham

15) What are you reading right now? The Heretic by Andrew Feder. It's the second part to, When Angel Have Risen

Thanks for having me over!


Saturday, December 1, 2007

December, A New Year and Resolutions

Today is December 1. Can you believe it? This year as sped by and has crawled by.

I don't usually talk about personal things. I don't think the Internet is the place for personal things. But today I am going to write about my personal last year.

The year before, 2005, I made a resolution to write a book. On December 2006 I signed a contract with Ellora's Cave/Ceridwen Press for my first novel Prophecy of Vithan. For 2007 I have finished a second novel - Stone of Cruento and am starting a third novel - Vials of Aquilonia. My resolution is to finish Aquilonia and write oh, let's say two more books.

January 2006 I made a resolution to lose 50 pounds. I lost 50 and regained 40. I guess that is a 10 pound score for the resolution side. So, for 2007 I am resolving to lose those 50 pounds again and maybe lose another 50. (Yeah, I'm that big, but beautiful too)

In 2006 My quadriplegic husband started showing some improvement. Just this morning he started moving his paralyzed arm. He is eating two meals a day - where he had to have tube feedings last year. He has an electric wheelchair and we have a small hoist to put him in and out of the car so we can go places. 2007 resolution is to continue to work with him to get him improving even more.

In 2006 I had my first experience with blogs, websites, chats, and yahoo groups. I have 15 blogs. Just in trying to understand what I was doing, I over did. I also have 3 websites, or is it 4? In 2007 my resolution is to manage them all and to blog regularly instead of sporatically.

How many resolutions will I manage to keep? Who knows. The fun in resolutions is making them. The hard work is doing them. Maybe I will be able to keep one or two. Maybe none. But I had fun this year - granted life got in the way occaisionally - but I had fun anyway.

So I will make my resolutions. And break them. What resolutions are you planning on breaking this year??

Friday, November 30, 2007


Hi, everyone

Yes, TGIO -- Thank God It's Over! I refer of course to NaNoWriMo. As usual, I did not reach 50,000 words. In fact, I probably didn't make 10,000 words. That's the bad news. The good news is that: (1) I wrote more than I have every other year I have signed up for NaNo; and (2) it got me back into my WIP. It also helped me identify a LOT of problems with the story that I have to go back and correct. But that's a good thing, too. At least now I know (or, hope) I can get the story to work. I am excited about fixing the plot problems and getting to the end.

So, I won't hang my head too low when I go to the TGIO party tomorrow. Anybody else out there do NaNo? How did you do?

There is another significance to this day. To all my fellow Scots and descendents of Scots -- Happy St. Andrew's Day. As you know, St. Andrew is the patron saint of Scotland. There are a couple of stories about how he acquired that honor -- his relics being brought from Constantinople and given to the Pictish king, Oengus mac Fergusa, or that Oengus or Oengus II seeing an "X" in the clouds that predicted he'd win in battle. Whichever story is true, we know that the "X", the saltire, is the cross on the flag of Scotland. St. Andrew was crucified, but he felt he was unworthy to be crucified on the same type of cross Jesus was, so he requested the X-shaped cross.

Well, that's all I have for today. My website is still not up -- my web designer and his wife recently had a baby, so he is VERY sleep deprived -- but hopefully soon. I know -- I've been saying that since the summer.

Till next month, Happy Holidays -- whichever one(s) you celebrate.
Kate Poole

Thursday, November 29, 2007

Welcome Sheila Roberts on her Virtual Book Tour

Welcome Sheila Roberts on her Virtual Book Tour

I'd like to welcome Sheila Roberts, author of On Strike for Christmas.
Thanks for dropping by. We learned a little about your book and about you yesterday. Today, you have agreed to answer some questions for us. Well, here we go.

1) If you could start over with your writing career, what if anything would you change? I would have started writing contemporary stories right from the get go. I got my beginnings writing Regency Romances - not surprising since I love them, but they have a limited readership. Plus although I tried hard, I really was terrible at research and it seemed I was always getting some historical detail wrong. Very embarrassing. I really think I would have done better writing about my own time period right from the get go. But, writing is a learning process, and I don't know any writers who ever got it all right at the beginning.

2) What was the best piece of advice you received regarding the life of a writer? Never give up.

3) If you could meet anyone, living or dead, who would it be? Actually, that list is rather long. But, to name a few: Stephen King, Dr. Phil and his wife, Steve Martin, Dustin Hoffman, and Cliff Richard, the British singing star

4) If you could meet any fictional character, who would it be? Jane Austen's Elizabeth Darcy, Heathcliff from "Wuthering Heights" and Dickens's Mr. Fezziwigg

5) In the next century, what do you hope people will remember you for? That would be remarkable to be remembered in the next century. Down the road, I'd like to be remembered as a writer who inspired people to be their best.

6) How do you balance your personal and writing time? I write during the day, just like a job, but unless I'm under deadline, I don't write more than a couple hours at a stretch. Then I go do something else. Fitting in time to be with friends and get other work done is important.

7) How do you write? Do your characters come to you first or the plot or the world of the story? What usually comes to me first is a story idea - something following the words, "What if?"

8) What genre(s) do you write? Why do you write the stories that you write? I've been published under different names in Romance, but I've also written for gift books and written non-fiction. I love to write about things that are important to women. And I like to write humor. Everyone needs to laugh.

9) Out of all the characters that you've written, who is your favorite and why? Some of my favorite characters have never seen the light of day. They all made guest appearances in manuscripts that never sold. Right now my favorite character is in a book that will be coming out next summer. She's a ditz and I love her.

10) If you were writing a script for the big screen, who would you want to act in your movie? Hmmm. Maybe some of the angry housewife chicks.

11) What would you want readers to take away from your books? A smile.

12) Do you have any advice for beginning writers in regards to writing a book? Finish the book. Many writers spend more time talking about writing than they do actually writing. Being able to type "the end" on something you've created is hugely satisfying.

13) Where can readers buy a copy of your book? At their nearby Barnes and Noble or Borders. And, of course, there's always Amazon. It's a fun book and I hope readers will give it a try.

14) What other projects are you working on right now? I just turned in Bikini Season, my second book for St. Martin's Press. It's about diets, true love, cheating, and friendship. I should have an excerpt posted on my website ( in the new year.

Wednesday, November 28, 2007

Introduce Sheila Roberts Author of On Strike for Christmas

Tomorrow Sheila Roberts is dropping by on a leg of her virtual book tour to talk about her book

On Strike for Christmas

So today I would like to introduce her to you.

Sheila Roberts lives in the Pacific Northwest. She's happily married and has three children. She's been writing since 1989, but she did lots of things before settling in to her writing career, including owning a singing telegram company and playing in a band. When she's not speaking to women's groups or at conferences or playing with her friends, she can be found writing about those things near and dear to women's hearts: family, friends, and chocolate.

Romantic Times Magazine Reviewed On Strike for Christmas and said:


RT Rating: 4½ Stars


Publisher: St. Martin's Griffin

Published: November 2007

Type: Mainstream Fiction

Roberts' witty and effervescently funny holiday novel will warm hearts. Realistic characters populate the pages of this captivating story, which is a great escape from holiday hustle and bustle.
Summary: In the town of Holly, some of the members of the Stitch 'n Bitch knitting club have decided to teach their husbands a lesson. Led by Joy, one of the club's older members, the women have collectively decided to go on strike, forcing their husbands to provide all of the holiday preparations.As the men get together to complain, the women remain steadfast in their strike efforts. But Carol, a knitting club member whose husband and son are both deceased, thinks the women should be thankful for their husbands and hectic lives. And when Jerri, another knitting club member, suffers from the ill effects of chemotherapy, the women unite to support their friend. (St. Martin's griffin, Nov., 352 pp., $13.95)Sheri Melnick

Tuesday, November 27, 2007

Why write Romance? Why read Romance?

Pretend the date is November 24th, last Saturday, when I was scheduled to blog and FORGOT!
I see an empty space on our Goddess blog to-day so here I am with head still slightly bowed from shame but recovering.
Why write Romance? Why read Romance? My quick answer - to keep us from falling into the techie trap. To keep us involved with others. To keep us warm hearted human souls. Because I came late to the technical upheaval sweeping our world I wonder what's next?
David Levy, author of Love + Sex with Robots: The Evolution of Human-Robot Relationships, thinks he has the answer. There was an extensive question and answer interview with him in The Globe and Mail, November 15. "A robot that contains all knowledge of sexual technique will clearly be a very proficient lover." I can't picture it. I don't want to. I blogged about robots on my own blog. Since then I've been wondering if David Levy has a better sense of the future than someone like me or you.
When I'm out for my daily walk around the neighbourhood I pass young men and women, and some older men, with dazed looks on their faces as they listen to music on their Ipods, etc. Their eyes are unfocussed. It's almost as if they are walking in a bubble. Out of touch with the birds twittering over their heads, fallen leaves scuffing under their shoes, me walking towards them.
Cell phones. Text messaging. No one is ever out of touch - or are they?
Writing romance is about honest to God human relationships where paying attention to verbal, emotional and physical signals builds trust with another. We make mistakes, we repair the damage, we laugh at ourselves - especially the laughting. Developing a sense of humour is a key building block in becoming a social animal. Share a funny story with a robot?
Did I ever tell you about the drunk man who staggered close to a river where a pastor was baptizing members of his flock in the river. "Come, my good man, and be saved." He grabbed the drunk and shoved him under the water. Gasping for air the drunk surfaced. "Have you found Jesus?" The pastor asked. The man shook his head. Down he went under the water a second and then a third time. "Have you found Jesus?" The pastor asked again to which the drunk replied. "Are you sure this is where you lost him?" (I hope no one is offended. My parish priest cracked this joke during Mass last Sunday!)
Writing romance is non-tech. A pencil and paper will do. Think of Jane Austen writing with a quill pen by candle light. We're lucky to have computers but some authors prefer the pen and paper route to get the story down before transferring it to a computer.
Why read Romance? It's so cool. Nothing between the author and the reader but words on a page. It's an invitation to sit back and live the story with the characters. You'll tell your friends to buy the book or borrow it. There's something warm and fuzzy about a good read and wanting to share.
And since it's so close to Christmas, bear with me while I read aloud - only you can't hear. So I'll write down the first paragraph.
"Marley was dead, to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that. The register of his burial was signed by the clergyman, the clerk, the undertaker and the chief mourner. Scrooge signed it. And Scrooge's name was good upon 'Change or anything he chose to put his hand to." A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens.

Friday, November 23, 2007

One Good Man: Thanksgiving

Here's a never-before-posted Thanksgiving excerpt from One Good Man by Lacey Thorn and Cindy Spencer Pape, available NOW at In this excerpt, Grant is still struggling to deal with witnessing the death of his younger brother in Iraq. Casey is fleeing a murderer, and has been led to Grant's remote cabin by a hitchiker who then vanished.

When she returned a few minutes later, she was dressed in jeans and a tight little sweater that made Grant’s mouth water and his jeans uncomfortably tight. Her long damp hair hung in thick glossy strands down her back.

“Something smells wonderful.”

“Turkey.” It came out as little more than a grunt, so he tried again. “I put some potatoes in to bake too.”

“Thanksgiving dinner with all the trimmings, huh?” She gave him a lopsided grin. “Anything I can do to help? I’ll warn you I’m not much use in the kitchen.”

Oh Grant could think of plenty of things to do with her in the kitchen but none of them involved getting dinner on the table. He pointed at the big cardboard box from his mother.

“There are probably more goodies in that, if you want to check.” Yesterday he’d been too depressed about the whole holiday to even open the care package.

“You want me to open your mail?”

Grant shrugged and handed her a small paring knife. “It’s from my mom, so it’s not like there are going to be any dirty pictures or anything. But she usually sends cookies and we could use dessert.”

“Ooookay.” She took the knife and slit the tape on the box. While Grant pulled the potatoes out of the oven and put them on a plate, he watched her remove a layer of newspaper, then the rest of the contents, cans first.

“Cranberry sauce. A can of turkey gravy. Green beans. A bottle of white wine. A loaf of some kind of bread.” She pulled out a small foil-wrapped package.

“Oh yum, that will be her homemade banana bread. Seriously good stuff. Anything else?”

“A can of mixed nuts, a big tub of cookies and something else. Looks like a framed picture.”

Grant watched as she dug into the bottom of the box. She pulled the flat rectangular object out and handed it to Grant. He could tell it had bothered her. She was trying not to look at it. He noticed when he took it that her fingers were shaking almost as much as his were.

“Mom, what did you do this time?” He recognized the frame, though, didn’t need to see the photo to know every line and shadow. It was a blown-up snapshot of his first Thanksgiving after his ranger training. He was home, in his dress greens, with his arm around his nine-year old brother, who wore Grant’s beret and a mile-wide grin.

“You have a non-electric can opener?” Casey turned away, the can of beans in her hand. “I can manage to heat up a can of veggies, I think.” He heard the quaver in her voice and wanted to believe that the emotion was real, that she wasn’t here out of some ulterior motive.

“Yeah. Second drawer.” His own voice came out as a croak. He put the photo back in the box and turned to the cupboard to dig out a saucepan and another for the gravy. Trust his mom to remember that Grant had never mastered the art of making gravy.

He finished up the meal while Casey set the table, awkward silence stretching between them. The cracking fire and the oil lamps cast a glow that was almost too intimate and romantic for the talk they needed to have. When Grant finally took his place Casey raised her wineglass to him.

“Well, here’s to Thanksgiving. At least we’re inside with food and a fireplace.”

Grant nodded and clinked his glass to hers. He still wasn’t sure today was anything to be thankful for but at least it was a whole lot more interesting than he’d had any right to expect.

Wednesday, November 21, 2007

Happy Thanksgiving!

For all our friends in the US, have a joyful and safe Thanksgiving. For those of you elsewhere in the world. have a lovely weekend knowing we're giving thanks for having you touch our lives, however lightly.

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One Good Man!

One Good Man, by Lacey Thorn and Cindy Spencer Pape, is available today! Check out this Thanksgiving treat at

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?

“Miss, can you tell me how badly you’re hurt?”

“Not bad.” She started to shake her head but winced and gave a little moan instead. “Was going pretty slow by the time we hit the tree.”

“We? Was there someone else in the car?” He shined the flashlight around the back seat, found no signs of another occupant.

“Umm-hmm.” She straightened slowly as if testing each movement. The dome light and his flashlight provided enough illumination to tell she was fairly young, with a cascade of long brown curls, a heart shaped face and big green eyes. “I picked him up a few miles back after he helped me change a tire. Said the bus dropped him off at the highway and he was trying to get home for Thanksgiving.”

“Well, once we get you inside, I’ll come back out and look.” He wasn’t sure if she was delusional or if her hitchhiker had fled before the cops could be called, but either way he didn’t figure he’d find any tracks. With no working phone lines he couldn’t call an ambulance or the cops anyway, but if there had been a rider, he was gone now.

“Do you think you can stand?” God he hoped so. He didn’t think his body was up to carrying her all the way up the hill.

“Let’s get you up to the cabin then.”

“Okay.” She leaned into the Jeep and pulled out a big leather shoulder bag. She staggered a little as she straightened but caught herself on the door. “One ankle’s a little sore, but it will hold.”

“Good.” He leaned past her and swung the door shut. “Cause the phone’s out, so it would be kind of tough to call an ambulance.”

“I’ll make it. And I’d sell my left arm for a cup of coffee.”

“That I can manage.” He’d dug out the old metal percolator before the power went out. He took her arm again, helped her climb over the tree, and started guiding her slowly up the hill. “The cabin’s a good ways up the road. Let me know if you need to stop and catch your breath for a second.”

“I’m good. I’m going to have a nice collection of bruises, a puffy ankle and a knot on my forehead, but nothing major.”

“If you say so.” The head injury would be the one to watch. She kept up pretty well, so he wasn’t too concerned. Of course with his leg and the ice that wasn’t necessarily saying much. The rain had started up again by the time they made it up the hill, making the trip even tougher. When they reached the cabin she stopped on the porch and kicked the snow off her sneakers before following him inside.

“Power’s out,” he told her as he unzipped his coat and stuffed his gloves in the pockets. “But there’s plenty of firewood and the stove’s propane, so we should be all right.”

She looked around and gave him a smile that went straight to his gut—and lower. Jesus—in the firelight she was even prettier than he’d realized—all long hair, long legs and the most kissable damned mouth he’d ever seen.

“Nice place.”

“I like it.” He shrugged and turned away to hang his coat on a peg beside the door. He held out a hand for her coat carefully avoiding any contact with her skin when he took it, then hung it beside his own.

She followed him over to the fire, held out her bare hands to warm in front of the flames.

“Thanks for the rescue.” He dragged a couple chairs over to the fireside, and with a sigh she sank down into one. As soon as he sat down beside her, she stuck out her hand. “I’m Casey, Casey Shields.”

He shook her hand then leaned his elbows on his thighs to hide his body’s instant reaction to even that most casual touch. He hadn’t had a waking erection in months. Why the hell had the equipment picked today to go back into working order? He managed to nod an acknowledgement and return her introduction. “Pleased to meet you, Casey Shields. My name’s Grant Kincaid.”

Her forest-green eyes widened and sparkled, “Oh you are Grant. Good! Now where is Lee? I assumed he’d come up to the cabin to get help.”

Every hair on Grant’s body stood on end and his guts clenched in a knot. “What the bloody hell are you talking about?”

“Lee. Your brother.” She tilted her head to the side in a damn good imitation of confusion. “Oh that’s right—he said it was a surprise—you didn’t know he was coming. But you have to go out and look for him. He could be hurt!”

“Lady, I don’t know what kind of scam you think you’re running, but unless you want to walk back to town it ends right now.”

She blinked up at him with those big green eyes—those big green lying eyes. “What’s wrong with you? Your brother could be lost out there somewhere, or hurt. Don’t you even care?”

Rage burned in his belly. He wouldn’t have been nearly this pissed if she’d shoved a gun in Grant’s face. There wasn’t much left that he gave a damn about, but Lee’s name, Lee’s memory—those were still sacred. Maybe the only things left that were. “You’ve got about two seconds to tell me what the hell is going on before I open that door and throw you out into the ice.”

“I have no idea.” She threw up her hands. “All I did was offer a ride to a nice young Marine who helped me out when I got a flat tire. And in return I got a smashed up Jeep, a sore ankle and a bitch of a headache.”

He started to speak but she shook her head and kept on going. “I don’t know what the hell your problem is, and frankly I don’t much care. All I really wanted to do was to get to my own cabin and get some sleep since I’ve been driving all night. You on the other hand, might want to go find your baby brother—who seems for some reason to idolize you even though you are obviously a freaking lunatic.”

Grant stood and leaned over her, pinning her into her chair by leaning one hand on each armrest.

“Listen, lady. I don’t know what your game is, but mention my brother one more time and I will toss you out into the freezing rain. But just in case you hit your head harder than I thought and you’ve got amnesia, I’m going to say this nice and clear. My little brother Lee is dead. I watched him get blown to pieces right in front of my face, so there’s no mistaking it. Lee Sherman Kincaid died January fourteenth at five thirty six pm in a fucking tent in Iraq.”