TANTALIZING TUESDAY

Please help me welcome Ruth Hartman into the moonlight today. Ruth is the author of My Life In Mental Chains and her newest release is an anthology, Must Love Cats. To learn more about Ruth, follow her at her blog: http://www.ruthjhartman.blogspot.com/

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GRACEN: Do you have any Valentine’s Day traditions like watching a Lifetime Channel movie marathon, spending the day with your significant other, writing, etc.? Do you have a favorite movie that you love to watch or a book you like to read on Valentine’s Day? Is there any movie or book that you’ve saved for this time of year? If so, what’s the title?

RUTH: My husband and I always go out for a romantic dinner on Valentine’s Day. He’s very romantic. I also usually get flowers and a stuffed animal (which I love!).


GRACEN: Many of us feel that Valentine’s Day is just one more day that has been overly commercialized and isn’t something that should only be celebrated once a year, but at least once a day. What was the most romantic gift you’ve ever received, when did you receive it and who was it from?

RUTH: I received my engagement ring on Christmas Eve, 1981. I was 18 years old. I can’t imagine a more romantic gift, ever!


GRACEN: Since this is the time of year when many people (teens included) feel the need to find a significant other, what suggestion(s) do you have for our readers as to what trait(s) should be added to their list?

RUTH: I’m blessed that my husband is also my best friend. Romance is wonderful! But you also need someone you can talk to, and do the everyday things with, as well.


GRACEN: There are many relationship superstitions out there such as, “rain on your wedding day is bad luck,” are you superstitious when it comes to love or relationships? Why or why not? If so, what superstitions do you believe have merit?

RUTH: No. I’m not superstitious about that. If you’ve found the right person, that’s all that matters.


GRACEN: Do you believe in ghosts? Do you believe in the power of love? If so, do you think that love can exist beyond this life and carry over into the next or has the power to keep a soul attached to the mortal coil never to cross over? Do you believe that ghosts have the ability to effect humans in a sexual manner?

RUTH: I believe there are spirits. I know for a fact the Holy Spirit is real! And the power of true love is very strong. I’ve heard of a person dying, and their mate died shortly after. They were so much in love, they couldn’t stand being apart, and the person left behind died of a broken heart. Once they passed on, they were together in heaven.


GRACEN: Please tell us, if you have any, 3 funny, strange or silly things that happened to you, or someone you know, on past Valentine’s Days. Any rendezvous fiascos that you now find humorous to tell? Have they ever been inspiration for some hi-jinks in your stories? Which ones? (Sharing may help others not feel so bad if it happened to them, as the saying goes, “misery loves company”)

RUTH: The only one I can think of, is when my husband and I hadn’t been married very long, he went to all the trouble of buying shrimp and all the ingredients for a whole romantic meal he wanted to cook for me. When I got home that day, I tried to unlock our front door, but it wouldn’t budge. This was before cell phones, so I had no way to call my husband to warn him before he got home. I walked over to our neighbor’s house. The older gentleman who lived there was kind enough to get the door open for me, and even offered to put a brand new lock on the door. When my husband got home from the grocery to make the romantic meal, he was shocked to see our neighbor bent over our door lock. It took our neighbor quite a bit of time to fix the lock, and we were very grateful. Needless to say, the evening wasn’t very romantic! I’ve never used that in a book, but I think I should!


GRACEN: For years, romance readers have experienced flack from non-romance readers saying or implying, “that’s just porn for women.” What can you say that might help non-romance readers understand the current essence of the romance genre?

RUTH: Romance writing isn’t all fluff. If a non-romance reader would take the time to look, a really good romance has all of the usual elements of any other story: interesting characters, plot, pacing, excitement, an element of surprise or mystery. The element of romance is just a wonderful bonus.


GRACEN: Now, let’s get to your writing, Ruth…What genre is your work considered to be? Why this genre? What was the draw for you?

RUTH: Mine is contemporary, sweet. And my latest, due out this year, is also fantasy. I write in this genre because it’s what I love to read. When I’m picking out a book off a bookstore shelf, it’s what I migrate toward. I find writing contemporary romance to be second nature. I’ve never been one for a lot of research, for example, historical fiction. But I deeply admire writer’s of that genre, and enjoy reading them, too.


GRACEN: If you could describe your writing with a word or phrase, what would it be? Please be creative and delve into the core of your writing to tell us what word or phrase you want readers to take with them when they've finished reading your story.

RUTH: Goofy, klutzy, real heroines that make tears of laughter roll down your cheeks.


GRACEN: Do you prefer romantic gifts (flowers, chocolate, jewelry, etc.) or romantic acts (massages, dinners, fun night out, etc.)? Does that show through in your writing? If so, how?

RUTH: I like getting gifts. I mean, who doesn’t? And the female characters in my books like them too. But I also just like holding hands with my husband, or when he hugs or kisses me. That too, shows through in my writing.


GRACEN: What school of thought are you when it comes to romance, love at first sight or that love takes time? Does this show through in your writing? If so, how?

RUTH: Love at first sight. Because that’s what happened with my husband. And yes, it does show in my writing. All of the couples in my stories are immediately drawn to each other, even if they can’t admit it at first.


GRACEN: When reading stories, many of us find secondary characters to be as interesting as or more interesting than the main characters. Are there any secondary characters that you plan on giving their own story? Or any that readers have requested have their own story? Are any of them your favorites? Why?

RUTH: I’ve never given thought to writing stories for my secondary characters, but that being said, it’s an intriguing idea. Some of my favorite series that I read are based on that concept. I may just have to try it!


GRACEN: Of all of your heroes, who would you say is the most romantic and why?

RUTH: I’d say, Graham, in “Pillow Talk” (due out June 2010). He works so hard to figure out why Trixie won’t go out with him again. He’s determined to make her see that they belong together, no matter what. To me, there’s nothing more romantic.


GRACEN: Of all of your heroes, who would you say is the least romantic and why?

RUTH: I think all of my heroes, Max in “Purr” from the anthology, “Must Love Cats,” Bruce from “Flossophy of Grace” (due out March, 2011) and Graham from “Pillow Talk”(due out June, 2010) are romantic, probably because they’re all somewhat based on my husband.


BLURB of PURR in the anthology MUST LOVE CATS:

Max's son must work at Roxy's cat shelter to complete his community service. Can they help Derek overcome his fear of cats and explore their growing feelings for each other?

EXCERPT:

“Now just what have you guys been up to since I left? Hmmm?” No one answered. Seventy-two eyes stared at her from half that many faces. Furry faces. And the eyes that stared at her were of the feline variety. “Have you all got each other’s tongues?”

Roxy never liked being the center of, well, anything. That’s probably why she chose running a no-kill cat shelter. No one expected you to be dressed up, or wear makeup, or comb your hair. She did actually do the third one, and occasionally the second. Never the first. She was a jeans and Henley-shirt kind of girl.

Another reason for her career choice? The woman was absolutely, one hundred percent cat-crazy. There was no denying it. She had been in love with cats since she was in the womb. Her mother, who was also a cat-person, would hold one of the fluffy creatures against her stomach when Roxy was on the way. The womb-enveloped baby would smack, poke and shuffle. Anything to get closer to that amazing motor-like purr she later discovered was a cat’s expression of delight.

Her job was her life. Period. There was no husband, boyfriend, or male anything else. Except of course, about half of her cat population. That’s not how she wanted it. That’s just how it was.

“You’re here early, Roxy.”

She looked up to see her assistant, Teresa Lynn. “Hey, yeah I decided to get an early start on those adoption forms today. Never can have too many willing pet-parents, now can we?”

Teresa Lynn smiled. “Exactly.”

The two women went about their morning duties. Teresa Lynn checked through their huge stack of mail, hoping to find an elusive donation.

“Found one!” she waved the envelope at her boss.

“Great!” said Roxy. “See if there’s any more. We’re coming up short on the mortgage this month. Not that it hasn’t happened before.”

“I’ll keep looking.” Teresa Lynn continued to flip through the stack. “Sorry. Just the one.”

“Rats,” Roxy muttered as she made her way down the narrow corridor between the cages of stray cats. She then turned her full attention to her charges. “Who’s hungry? Anybody? Raise your left paw if you want some breakfast.” Every fur-bearing creature in the place began to pace and howl. Roxy quickly filled bowls with cheap dry cat food (the only kind they could afford). One by one, cats purred and pranced, eager for his or her turn to gobble their rations.

Along with breakfast, each cat received a quick chin-scratch. Later on, they’d be let out of their pens in stages to frolic and mingle. At that time, Roxy and Teresa Lynn could give them more individualized petting and attention. During the kitty “happy hour”, the purr level usually reached the three hundred-decibel level.

“There now, doesn’t that feel better?” Oliver, the orange tabby, practically smiled as Roxy quickly brushed his long, tangled fur. “You just need a haircut, don’t you, my little man?”

Teresa Lynn giggled as she watched them. “You talk to them as if they were human.”

“Well, they think they’re people, so I guess I see them that way, too.” She smiled sheepishly.

Both women looked toward the front door as someone rattled the doorknob, trying to get in. Roxy stood up and put Oliver back in his cage. She walked to the door to peer through the glass. “We don’t open for another two hours. Sorry.”

The boy standing outside the door was frowning. His navy, hooded sweatshirt was too large for his skinny frame, and he needed a haircut, badly. Roxy waited for him to leave, but he stayed planted right where he stood.
She made a second attempt to dissuade her frumpy visitor. “Um, sorry, but we’re closed. Can you some back at 10:00?”

The boy simply stared through the glass at her. As she looked closer, she realized he was crying.

“I can’t stand it,” she muttered. “Why is this kid standing out there using the waterworks?” She unlocked the door and opened it for her unwelcome guest.

Buy Link: http://www.midnightshowcase.com/MustlubCats.htm

Mystic Monday

Short Fiction

Yesterday was Valentine's Day, so I hope everyone enjoyed the day.

A moment of silence for the Olympian who lost his life in a luge crash this past weekend.

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Now I feel like I can go on with my day and my blog. In honor of the Olympics, I thought I would talk about a couple different types of short fiction. There are weird names and word counts to boot!

We'll start small and work our way up.

The smallest works to be considered fiction get their names from their word count. There's 55 Fiction which began as a writing contest in 1987. It's a story of exactly 55 words. The title is not included in this total but cannot be more that 7 words.

Then there's the 69er which has it's roots in a Canadian publication, NFG. This has, you guessed it, 69 total words excluding the title.

Next comes the fiction story with my favorite name, The Drabble. The Drabble has exactly 100 words, no more, no less, title excluded. Rumor has it the Dribble is a 50 word story and a Drouble is a 200 word story.

Who could possibly want stories this short? Well, besides magazine contests, these types of short fiction pieces are very popular in Sci-fi culture.

This brings us up to Flash Fiction, a story ranging in length from 300 to 1000 words in length not including the title and finds it's beginnings roughly in 1992 as an anthology with the same name intended to give readers stories that fit in two facing pages - roughly 750 words. With the advent of the Internet, this type of fiction is fast growing in its appeal.

What can short fiction do for you?

Well, if you're struggling to focus on your writing or need to hone your tight writing skills, these types of challenges can help you do that.

If you find yourself having difficulty with them or aren't quite sure how to approach them, think of it this way.

A novel is made up of all kinds of moments tied together, creating a continuous string of moments that compose a story. Each of these individual moments can be taken out of context and viewed as Flash Fiction. Therefore, Flash Fiction is a scene or a moment in time with characters, a beginning, middle and end.

How can Flash Fiction help you write a story?

Well, since a novel is basically a long string of moments, and Flash Fiction is a single moment, you can consider a novel to be one long string of continuous Flash Fiction pieces.

So, writing one Flash Fiction piece can lead to another and another and another.

Flash Fiction can also help you tighten up your writing. If you pick a specific word length, such as 500 words and make each moment exactly 500 words, it will teach you how to pick the right words. If you find that your moments are less than 500, try to get those pieces closest to the next lowest words count such as 450 or even as low as 400. These lower limits will force you to find the one word to take the place of five or six and eliminate unnecessary words.

While there are all kinds of Flash Fiction pieces for you to read through and learn from, I thought I would offer up one of mine I wrote for a creative writing class. This is a shorter piece (265 words), but it should give the idea of how important word choice and imagery are in a piece like this:

The Dream Room
by Carrie Hinkel-Gill

She wakes up, reaches out her right hand to stroke the plush, light green carpet. The carpet wasn’t quite grass green, but it was slightly lighter and softer, like fairy grass. One look transports you to another place and time. Wanting to strengthen the illusion, she stretches her right leg so that the fairy grass envelops her toes. The polish adorning her fingernails and toenails is so close in color to the fairy grass that it looks as if her nails are made of fairy grass. She looks across the expanse that is her room, beyond the mountain of books on her desk, to the dragon rookery. She sees them stretch, waking to the sunlight as they ready to greet the dawn, and her. She smiles at them and hums a hello to which they respond with fervent, screechy yawns. The wizard protector bows in respectful greeting and the little white ghosts encircle the candle, keeping the wax in check. Rolling on her back, stretching like a feline princess, she sees the parent dragons, ever watchful, ever protecting. She sighs with longing because he’s not here. They might not have much time together, her purple-cloaked warrior and her, but the time they do spend together is always a grand adventure. She lies there, on her bed of fairy grass, wondering when the next adventure will happen. She’ll continue to care for the dragons in the rookery while she waits for her warrior.

This is her safe haven.

Nothing can touch her here.

Then the buzz of the alarm clock dispels the magic. Reality is calling.

I hope you've enjoyed my moment and go one to write your own moments!

SUPERNATURAL SUNDAY

HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY, MOONLIGHTERS!!!

Valentine's Day is known as the day of love, a day to show how much you love someone and what better way to celebrate it here in the Moonlight than with a burning hot, erotic paranormal romance, written by fellow Noble Romance author, H.C. Brown. Ms. Brown is the author of Purr-fect Seduction, Forbidden Love, Betrothed to the Enemy, A Long Hot Delicious Slide, Hot Damn--that cover art had me saying HOT DAMN! =) --and her newest release to come on February 17th, My Purr-fect Alphas, which is a sequel to Purr-fect Seduction. To learn more about Ms. Brown or her books, visit her blog:

http://hcbrownauthoroferoticromance.blogspot.com/

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GRACEN: There are many relationship superstitions out there such as, “rain on your wedding day is bad luck,” are you superstitious when it comes to love or relationships? Why or why not? If so, what superstitions do you believe have merit?

H.C.: I am very superstitious, my grandmother was a true, card reading, fortune telling gypsy from the UK. I made the front page of the newspaper when a couple of reporters decided to test my well-known, psychic abilities. Unfortunately, I can't foretell my own future or give lotto numbers.

Superstitions from my grandmother are in the hundreds. These come to mind:

1. Never take red and white flowers to the hospital- they bring death.
2. Change your clothes and change your luck.
3. Right palm itches you pay out money opposite for the left.
4. Birds flying to the right brings good fortune.
5. Wish only on a full moon.


GRACEN: Do you believe in ghosts?

H.C.: Yes I know they exist. I believe in good and evil spirits.


GRACEN: Do you believe in the power of love? If so, do you think that love can exist beyond this life and carry over into the next or has the power to keep a soul attached to the mortal coil never to cross over?

H.C.: I think love is the most powerful emotion of all. I don't believe we have the power or the need to attach to a mortal coil. I personally believe our Guardian Angels are loved ones who have passed over. Their love protects us during our life.


GRACEN: Do you believe that ghosts have the ability to effect humans in a sexual manner?

H.C.: No not at all – I believe in the purity of the soul.


GRACEN: For years, romance readers have experienced flack from non-romance readers saying or implying, “that’s just porn for women.” What can you say that might help non-romance readers understand the current essence of the romance genre?

H.C.: I think romance readers are dreamers; they like to lose themselves in a world of the perfect hero, the perfect romance. Some just like the romance in more detail. It's no different to any other genre, all stories have their worth to the reader.

For example: Sometimes I write M/M stories, I'm not gay but to me love is love . I think a love story between two men is as beautiful as any other.


GRACEN: Now, let’s get to your writing…What genre is your work considered to be? Why this genre? What was the draw for you?

H.C.: I write romance in the following genres: Paranormal, historical, fantasy, urban fantasy, mystery. I write erotic, Sweet, YA and children's fantasy. I love fantasy/paranormal mainly because I am only limited by my imagination. To be able to create a world and people is exciting to me and feeds my Muse.


GRACEN: If you could describe your writing with a word or phrase, what would it be? Please be creative and delve into the core of your writing to tell us what word or phrase you want readers to take with them when they've finished reading your story.

H.C.: I've just stepped from a world of faeries, shape-shifters and alternate dimensions.


GRACEN: Do you prefer romantic gifts (flowers, chocolate, jewelry, etc.) or romantic acts (massages, dinners, fun night out, etc.)? Does that show through in your writing? If so, how?

H.C.: I'm not really interested in gifts it puts a price on love. Acts yes, I'm a kiss and cuddle girl. I hope love and tenderness shows in my books.


GRACEN: What school of thought are you when it comes to romance, love at first sight or that love takes time? Does this show through in your writing? If so, how?

H.C.: For me it was love at first sight – I was 18 – three weeks later, we were married . . . still together.

I believe people feel a connection when they first meet . . .an instant attraction, that subtle pull that grabs the interest. I try to put that in my stories . . . the first impression, the first spark of awareness.


GRACEN: When reading stories, many of us find secondary characters to be as interesting as or more interesting than the main characters. Are there any secondary characters that you plan on giving their own story? Or any that readers have requested have their own story? Are any of them your favorites? Why?

H.C.: Nox is a favorite and he cameos in all the Pride Brother series. Who wouldn't love a seven feet tall faerie with an attitude? Most emails I get are about Nox, although the shape-shifter hero got a lot of mail. Which I love – it humbles me when fans take the time to write.

I've written a Free Read- A Taste of Nox – yes he will get his own story and it's going to push my fantasy world to the limit. I have his story outlined and it will be beautiful and very romantic . . . Nox deserves the best.


GRACEN: Of all of your heroes, who would you say is the most romantic and why?

H.C.: Prince Darrius of Knight Watch (Dare) my first shape-shifter. (Purr-fect Seduction) I made him a loveable romantic. Zandor in My Purr-fect Alphas is a bad boy who took the story and ran with it. I loved writing his story. In Savage Lust, Rio, the loner who loves and loses twice was a challenge. I wanted to jump into the pages and give him a hug.

Thank you for having me today!

BLURB:

Dr. Elizabeth Clark's life is turned upside down, when she is kidnapped by the Druiks, and taken to Druik Void, in a future realm. Caged like an animal, in a laboratory filled with humanoid specimens from other dimensions, she endures experimental surgery. Seduced by Zandor and Thryll, two very sexy shape-shifters trapped with her, she is persuaded to escape. Will Beth survive the frantic journey to the Gate and safety? Or,will she fall prey to the insatiable shifters?

EXCERPT:

The floodlights in the parking lot danced before her eyes and without another thought, she threw herself from the window, tumbling awkwardly backwards, but Zandor caught her, as if she were as light as a feather, and drew her to his chest.

"I have you, be calm, relax." He crooned and sprinted through the gate just as it began to close. She clung to his neck as he ran super fast around the iron fence and under a dark overhang where Thryll stood with the dune buggies.

"I'll guess we've only seconds before he raises the alarm. See if you can make these work or we'll have to run," said Thryll anxiously.

"You did well, Beth," purred Zandor. He dropped her gently to her feet and stood so close she could still feel the heat from his body.

Beth turned to the dune buggies. They used similar modes of transport in the complex where she worked, though these were much bigger and made to carry two people. They each held a solar panel along the back of the frame and large metal saddlebags on both sides. Leaning over one, she searched for a key in the ignition, and noticed a red button on the handlebar. Here goes nothing. She pressed it and the motor hummed into life. So far so good. She climbed into the seat and experimented with the controls.

"Okay, Thryll, jump on that one. Press the red button to start the engine. Right pedal is forward. When you want to stop, press the left pedal gently or you'll roll over. Let's go, we'll follow this road and bear left at the second intersection."

She glared at Zandor when his arms slipped around her waist, lifted her off the seat, and placed her behind Thryll. "You don't know how to drive one of these."

"Neither does Thryll, but we learn very quickly, precious one." He smiled a brilliant smile, slipped into the seat and stamped down on the accelerator shooting past them into the darkness.



Buy link: http://www.nobleromance.com/

STARLIGHT SATURDAY

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REVIEW OF

LAND OF THE FALLING STARS

By Keta Diablo

The Civil War has rendered Sophia Whitfield penniless and an orphan. Traumatized by the repeated pilfering and looting by the Bluecoat’s, Sophia spies a bluecoat staggering toward her home and she’s determined not to be a victim again. So, she runs to fetch her gun and shoots the interloper, only to learn that her victim is her childhood friend, Gavin Langdale. Sophia nurses Gavin back to health and succumbs to her attraction to him, only to learn that he killed her fiancé and his best friend, Jesse, on the battlefield.

It felt like these two traversed the world, when they only traveled from the south to Baltimore, but so much happened in between…Sophia’s house was torched, she was rendered blind, she was almost raped—twice!—Gavin was almost murdered, they met up with a band of gypsies and Sophia had to accept her heart’s desires…not necessarily in that order.

There were times I had a hard time connecting with Sophia. Some of her decisions were not only extreme, but rash. For instance, the opening scene where she shoots Gavin simply because of the color of his jacket. But the one thing I kept coming back to was that this novel was set during the Civil War. A very harsh and brutal time period. None of us know how we would react as a lone woman in a violent time. It’s likely some of us would have reacted just as violently and irrationally as Sophia did.

Sophia is complicated, but that makes her an interesting character too and she reminded me of Scarlett O’Hara. Spoiled and hard to deal with, even a tad naïve, and so stubborn that when it’s almost too late—was too late for Scarlett…which led to that famous line by Rhett…”Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn.”…*sigh*—she realizes that Gavin is the one she wanted and loved even when her fiancé, Jesse, was alive. I adored Gavin from beginning to end and connected easily with his torn conscious. And, yes, he was like Rhett too in that he protected, adored and loved Sophia in spite of her faults.

Land of the Falling Stars is a great read, fast paced, with scorching love scenes that’ll leave you fanning yourself. Land of the Falling Stars always left me wondering what was going to happen next. So, if you’re not reading Keta Diablo’s books, my question is WHY??

Buy Link: http://www.ravenousromance.com/once-upon-a-time/land-of-falling-stars.php

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On a separate note, two of Keta’s anthologies have been nominated by Love Romances Cafe, and voting begins February 15th. More information will be provided in the upper lefthand corner of our blog. Here is the information on both of those nominated books:




Boys of the Bite
More Information Here: http://www.ravenousromance.com/fantastica/boys-of-the-bite.php

About Boys of the Bite:

Vampires are ever young, ever beautiful, and ruled by the cravings of the flesh. In Boys of the Bite, the gay male side of the vampire's legend is explored in every erotic possibility. From historical settings where vampires move through high society to modern vamps you find at the all-night laundromat, these lusty men know how to hunt, whether for love or just a midnight snack.

Mixing stories by gay male authors like R. R. Angell and Bob Panadero with some of Ravenous Romance's stars of m/m romance like Keta Diablo and Ryan Field, Boys of the Bite gives every reader plenty to get his or her blood pumping.


Spank Me Twice:

More information here:
http://tinyurl.com/p7qff4
Wowzers. Spank Me Twice is mouth-wateringly delicious down to the last page. What an incredible array of writers in this book. Jude Mason starts it off with a delicious tale of a naughty husband who gets his punishment and it goes out with a bang with a male love story by Keta Diablo. Spank Me Twice is like an Oreo cookie. Yummy crunchy cookie on the outside with delectable cream-filling in the middle. All the stories are fast paced and will have you needing a fan on high next to you.

PHANTASM FRIDAY

Please help me welcome Tina Donahue into the moonlight today! Tina’s newest release is Deep, Dark, Delicious, and is published by Ellora’s Cave. Tina is multi-published and you can learn more about her and her books at her website: http://www.tinadonahue.com/

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GRACEN: Do you have any Valentine’s Day traditions like watching a Lifetime Channel movie marathon, spending the day with your significant other, writing, etc.?

TINA: Does shopping count? My guy knows how much I love the mall…so if Valentine’s falls on the weekend, we start off with breakfast at a restaurant in the mall, then hit all the stores, then stop for lunch at a mall restaurant, then hit all the stores, then stop for dinner at a mall restaurant and hit all the stores. He doesn’t complain once. To me, that’s very romantic.


GRACEN: Do you have a favorite movie that you love to watch or a book you like to read on Valentine’s Day?

TINA: For a movie, I’d have to say “Somewhere in Time” with Christopher Reeve and Jane Seymour. I always cry at the end…it’s sad, but it’s happy too. Just a truly great romantic movie.


GRACEN: Is there any movie or book that you’ve saved for this time of year? If so, what’s the title?

TINA: If I wanted to read a truly great love story on Valentine’s Day, I think I’d pick Jane Eyre…the part where they’ve been separated and he whispers, “Jane, wait for me.” And she hears him in her thoughts…wow…makes my hair stand on end. What a love story. Saw a TV adaptation of it years ago with Timothy Dalton. Really romantic.


GRACEN: Many of us feel that Valentine’s Day is just one more day that has been overly commercialized and isn’t something that should only be celebrated once a year, but at least once a day. What was the most romantic gift you’ve ever received, when did you receive it and who was it from?

TINA: The first Christmas I was going out with my sweetie, he gave me a pre-Christmas present on the twelfth day before Christmas. On the eleventh, I got another…and so on…he did the twelve days of Christmas thing. Absolutely wonderful!


GRACEN: Since this is the time of year when many people (teens included) feel the need to find a significant other, what suggestion(s) do you have for our readers as to what trait(s) should be added to their list?

TINA: A great sense of humor. The guy can be as perfect as Brad Pitt in the looks department, but if he can’t laugh and if he can’t have fun, I wouldn’t want him.


GRACEN: There are many relationship superstitions out there such as, “rain on your wedding day is bad luck,” are you superstitious when it comes to love or relationships? Why or why not?

TINA: No. I don’t think superstition has anything to do with a good match. I believe if you share core values with your significant other and you’re both adult in your relationships, you’ll do fine.


GRACEN: Do you believe in ghosts?

TINA: No. It would be too scary to contemplate. If I started seeing things in the corners of my vision, I’d freak out.


GRACEN: Do you believe in the power of love?

TINA: Absolutely.


GRACEN: If so, do you think that love can exist beyond this life and carry over into the next or has the power to keep a soul attached to the mortal coil never to cross over?

TINA: I believe when someone passes that they can still see their loved one…not necessarily communicate with them. I believe they’re waiting for their loved one when that person passes. It’s like the last scene in “Somewhere in Time” where she’s waiting for him. Just beautiful. Even now, it brings tears to my eyes.


GRACEN: Do you believe that ghosts have the ability to effect humans in a sexual manner?

TINA: Not really. I read “The Entity” and it creeped me out. Although it was supposedly based on a true story, I find it hard to believe.


GRACEN: Please tell us, if you have any, 3 funny, strange or silly things that happened to you, or someone you know, on past Valentine’s Days. Any rendezvous fiascos that you now find humorous to tell? Have they ever been inspiration for some hi-jinks in your stories? Which ones? (Sharing may help others not feel so bad if it happened to them, as the saying goes, “misery loves company”)

TINA: The only one I can think of is when I was in grade school. I really liked this boy in my sixth grade class and sent him a Valentine card. His mother called up my mother to tell her he didn’t want me bothering him. Wow. I had to go through several more years of school with the little snitch.


GRACEN: For years, romance readers have experienced flack from non-romance readers saying or implying, “that’s just porn for women.” What can you say that might help non-romance readers understand the current essence of the romance genre?

TINA: I believe they’d have to read one of the stories first to get a good sense of what goes on in a romance novel. Contrary to what they believe, romance novelists are some of the best writers around. It’s extremely difficult to convey emotions on the printed page. I believe that’s why most male writers don’t try to do it. I’ve written many genres, and I always find it a snap to write humor, suspense, intrigue, etc. But when it comes to conveying a person’s deepest emotions and love – it’s always difficult.


GRACEN: Now, let’s get to your writing, Tina…What genre is your work considered to be?

TINA: I write contemporary & historical romance and erotic romance.


GRACEN: Why this genre?

TINA: I like to read these sub-genres.


GRACEN: What was the draw for you?

TINA: I like character-driven stories. So many times I’ve read novels where the plot was everything, the characters cardboard cutouts. I couldn’t get involved. When I read I want to cry, laugh, smile and be completely enthralled by what’s going on with the characters’
heads and hearts in the story.


GRACEN: If you could describe your writing with a word or phrase, what would it be? Please be creative and delve into the core of your writing to tell us what word or phrase you want readers to take with them when they've finished reading your story.

TINA: Heat with heart. I like my novels to be very sexy but there’s a deeply romantic story in all of them. It’s not all about the physical stuff that goes on between the characters, it’s mainly about what’s in their hearts and heads.


GRACEN: Do you prefer romantic gifts (flowers, chocolate, jewelry, etc.) or romantic acts (massages, dinners, fun night out, etc.)?

TINA: I prefer romantic acts. Anyone can buy you jewelry, not everyone can spend a day at the mall because I like it.


GRACEN: Does that show through in your writing and if so, how?

TINA: Absolutely. In my novel “Adored”, the hero knows the heroine loves this certain type of cherry chocolate. Not only does he surprise her with the candy during a very erotic scene, but he also has the company that makes it send a box to her apartment. And in my novel “Deep, Dark, Delicious” when the hero shows up at the heroine’s house, she’s trying to fix her leaky sink – he does it for her. IMHO that’s very romantic.


GRACEN: What school of thought are you when it comes to romance, love at first sight or that love takes time?

TINA: I’ve written both ways and believe either can happen.


GRACEN: Does this show through in your writing and if so, how?

TINA: Absolutely. In “Adored” the characters have known each other for years, but never really got together until the beginning of my story Their friendship has grown into deep attraction. On the other hand, in “Deep, Dark, Delicious” the hero/heroine were instantly attracted to each other.


GRACEN: When reading stories, many of us find secondary characters to be as interesting as or more interesting than the main characters. Are there any secondary characters that you plan on giving their own story?

TINA: Not at the moment.


GRACEN: Are there any secondary characters that readers requested have their own story?

TINA: Most of my readers want me to bring back the heroes for another story – they like the guys I write!


GRACEN: Are any of them your favorite and if so, why?

TINA: I really like my secondary character Trish Luna, my heroine’s best friend in “Deep, Dark, Delicious”. She’s funny and is always rooting for the heroine, Eden, to go for the guy – to tear down her defenses and fall in love.


GRACEN: Of all of your heroes, who would you say is the most romantic and why?

TINA: Probably Rafe Zayas in “Deep, Dark, Delicious” – he’s so drawn to Eden, my heroine, he can’t stay away from her. He wants her for his own.


GRACEN: Of all of your heroes, who would you say is the least romantic and why?

TINA: I don’t write unromantic heroes…just wouldn’t be a romance if I did and wouldn’t be any fun for me to write.

Buy link for Deep, Dark, Delicious:
http://www.jasminejade.com/ps-8080-50-deep-dark-delicious.aspx

BLURB for DEEP, DARK, DELICIOUS:

A wickedly sensual feast…

Eden DeCarlo may have narrowly lost Miami’s best chef competition and the prize money she desperately needs, but she has caught the eye of dangerously virile Rafael Zayas, one of the judges and a wealthy restaurateur. Despite her vow not to let any man derail her life, Eden’s captivated by Rafe’s imposing masculinity, then challenged by the business deal he offers. He’ll invest in her new venture if, for one month, she can satisfy his culinary expectations and the sexual attraction they both feel. Dominant and unashamed, Rafe knows what he wants when it comes to carnal pleasure and will spare no seduction to have Eden in all the ways he demands. Within thirty days, he will teach her the delights of yielding to passion, relinquishing all control to him and fulfilling her deepest, darkest and most delicious desires.


EXCERPT for DEEP, DARK, DELICIOUS:

He moved closer but didn’t touch her. He wondered what type of a mother could willingly give up her own child. And what of her father? Had she known him or even met him or was he a shadowy figure her mother seldom mentioned? “Eden, are you certain you want strangers to live in your house?”

She stepped back, arms across her chest again, no sign of tears in her voice. “I don’t have a choice. In order to open my restaurant I took out several home equity loans. Grandma left the house to me free and clear. It kept appreciating and the restaurant was doing well. Until the economy tanked, I didn’t think I’d have any problem meeting the payments.”

He now understood the depth of her financial situation. She surely owed more than the home’s current worth and bankruptcy would forestall the inevitable for only so long. “Is the bank threatening to foreclose?”

“Not since you wrote me the check last night for your stay. Even if you end up hating it here and decide not to invest, I’ve bought myself a few months, more than enough time to get new vacationers. And no way am I losing this place. I couldn’t do that to Grandma.” She inclined her head to the sink, her voice stiff. “That’s not going to fix itself. If you’ve changed your mind, I can—”

Patiently, he interrupted. “I haven’t changed my mind.” He grabbed the industrial-sized flashlight from the counter and handed it to her. “You do know what to do with this, no?”

She tapped its head against her palm, making small thwacking sounds. “If you mess up my plumbing, I get to whack you over the head?”

He laughed. “You’re going to pay for that.”

The tapping stopped. Her skin pinked up nicely. She looked at him from beneath her lashes. “How?”

“That would be telling. Time for me to fix your leak.”

“Wait.” Her free hand went to his upper arm, her moist fingers hugging it. “It’s dirty down there. You’ll mess up your clothes.”

Heart pounding, he studied her fingers on him. “You want me to take them off?” His eyes slid to hers.

She stared at the dark hairs on his forearm, his navy tee and faded jeans. Her voice dropped an octave, becoming throaty. “I was thinking about putting a sheet down there for you to lie on. It’s what I usually do. The pipe’s hard to reach.”

“Very well.”

She didn’t respond or leave to get the sheet. Her thumb had reached the bumpy skin on his biceps, halting on the uneven flesh and then investigating again. “What’s this?” She lifted his tee’s sleeve. Air hissed through her teeth at the brutal scar. “How’d you get this?” Her dismay matched his mother’s and Victor’s whenever they found his behavior questionable. “Were you in an accident?”

Rafe regarded what he could of the discolored wound, eleven inches total, stretching from his upper arm to his shoulder blade, the surface craggy, ugly. “You find it disgusting?”

“What? Of course not.” Indignant, she slapped his forearm with the back of her hand, a lover’s blow.

He leveled his gaze on her. “Ouch.”

She laughed. Her features relaxed. “What happened, Rafe? Were you riding a motorcycle? Did a drunk driver hit you?”

“No.” He smoothed down his sleeve. “The edge of the wooden raft my parents used to escape Cuba tore my arm and shoulder when I fell from it.”

Her mouth formed a shocked O. “How old were you?”

“Seven.” He smiled. “A long time ago. Completely forgotten. Not worth mentioning again.”

She chided gently, “Liar.”

His smile fell away. At the sorrow in her eyes, his heart skipped several beats. “You want to know about it?”

“Do you mind telling me?”

He didn’t and did. Once more, she had him questioning his feelings. He ached for her to know him, to accept his past no matter how harsh it had been. On the other hand, he dreaded her pity.

Her steady, accepting gaze gave him the courage to continue. “The raft was little more than several doors nailed together, though big enough for me, my mother, father and older brother Victor. At the last possible moment, my mother’s only brother Gerardo begged us to take him and his family. It wasn’t a question as to whether we’d do it, but how we’d succeed in getting to this country. With the addition of him, his wife and three children, ranging in age from an infant to five years old, the raft was too crowded.” He recalled the waves jostling it. His thin shirt and pants drenched from the water’s spray. “My cousin Javier, the five-year-old, fell against me as the raft hit a swell. I lost my balance and tumbled over the side. The water was cold, yet I was strangely calm going under. It was so quiet. Never have I heard such an absence of sound. When I bobbed to the surface, a pain ran from my arm to my shoulder. It felt as if I’d been burned. I learned later the raft had hit me. In addition to the wood, several nails ripped through my skin. Uncle Gerardo reacted first, diving in to save me. He managed to get me back on the raft, but he wasn’t a well man. Too many years of poor nutrition and hard work had made him old. My father tried to reach him, but the next wave washed him away. He drowned.”

Eden heard the shame in his voice, his guilt for having caused such a thing. She rested her free hand on the side of his face, feeling the bite of his beginning beard on her thumb and palm. The bristles were so adult and male while his heart still grieved like a child’s. “It wasn’t your fault. You were a little boy.”

Although he nodded, his eyes said he didn’t believe her.

“Your first restaurant here was Querido Tío—beloved uncle. For him?”

He put his hand over hers. “You think me too sentimental, no?”

“I think of those many relatives you have working at your restaurants, your cousin Javier is no doubt among them.”

His quick smile pushed his cheek into her palm. “He’s the VP of marketing. In high school and college he was the valedictorian.”

Eden bet Rafe had been in the first row of the audience, cheering Javier on. She tried to imagine having such a devoted family and pictured Rafe with his own children, daughters and sons he’d adore, children he’d never give up. Perhaps he’d meet their mother after his thirty days here were over. He’d indulge himself in this house, holding nothing back. Eden wouldn’t either, but it wouldn’t go beyond sex. She’d miss him terribly when he left, she couldn’t lie to herself about it, but she’d move on. She’d done so with her mom.

His smile dimmed as though reading her mind or her face. “What is it?”

She lied. “I was thinking about your aunt. What happened to her?”

Gently, his fingers squeezed hers. “A few years after we reached Miami she remarried and had two daughters with her new husband. Her youngest is my godchild.”

Happiness for the girl merged with Eden’s sadness for children who weren’t as lucky. Not wanting to dwell on it, she backed up, removing her hand from his face. “I’ll get the sheet.” She laid the flashlight on the counter and padded into the utility room. The bed linen was still warm from her dryer. She held its fragrant cleanliness to her nose and mouth. In a little while, the cotton would smell of him.

A shudder ran through her. He’d been here less than an hour and too quickly she’d revealed things he had no business knowing and encouraged him to share his past, which increased her admiration and desire for him. Eyes closed, fingers fisted in the sheet, she ordered herself to get a grip, to stop her control from crumbling.

At the doorway to the kitchen, her step paused. He was on one knee, his head bent to the tool box, his tee slung over the stove’s handle, his chest naked.

Anticipation bubbled through her brazenly. Her fingers and toes tingled. Firm, bronze muscles draped his broad shoulders, biceps, pecs and torso. A mewl snagged on the back of her throat. Dark, silky hair peeked from beneath his arms. His flat nipples were nearly as dark as his eyes, his chest smooth, his skin flawless except for his scar and a few moles.

Hopelessly drawn to his male beauty and shocking wound, she stepped into the room, her pulse pumping crazily.

His attention moved from the epoxy putty and C-clamp in his hand to her. He smiled.

Eden sank to her knees and lifted the sheet to show him she had it, relieving her of having to speak or trust her voice. With jittery hands, she smoothed the brown-and-gold striped fabric over the bottom of the cabinet then sat back on her heels, waiting.

~~~~~

Tina’s links:
http://www.tinadonahue.com/
http://www.tinadonahue.com/blog/

DEEP, DARK, DELICIOUS YouTube video trailer:

http://www.youtube.com/tinadonahue

Buy link for Deep, Dark, Delicious:
http://www.jasminejade.com/ps-8080-50-deep-dark-delicious.aspx

Buy link for Adored:

http://www.jasminejade.com/ps-7772-138-adored.aspx

TWILIGHT THURSDAY

Lisa Troy Shines in the Moonlight

I’m a romance writer. Yes, I’ll say it and won’t glance away.

People have reacted in many ways after hearing what my books are about—from completely supportive to giving me a sour, disapproving face. And I have to admit that in the beginning, I was a bit uncomfortable when I had to deal with condescending looks.

But then I thought better of it.

Everyone who thinks the romance genre doesn’t constitute quality reading the way science fiction or horror should think again. From sweet to erotic, these books’ subject is love and how different characters confront and overcome or not its various challenges.

Who amongst us can say that that’s a piece of cake?

Love is as elusive as a fairy. Some of us never quite manage to find it, and others can’t seem to keep its fire burning for long. Add in the fast pace of today’s everyday life, and how many can make the effort to reserve room in our lives for someone else? How many can spend day after day caring about someone else, taking into consideration their schedule, their wants and needs when our own life is very complicated and sometimes feels like a frustrating struggle? We don’t always have the energy to hear about someone else’s bad day and offer advice.

When someone gets too demanding, stress levels go through the roof and the easy way out is to say “I don’t love you anymore”.

Besides, it’s hard to commit to someone when there are so many possibilities out there. All of us have fears, quirks, hang-ups and when we’re in love everything gets magnified. The smallest thing can trigger an explosion and make us lose our perspective.

And all that’s without taking into consideration how other people, with good or bad intentions, affect a relationship. It’s a complicated, thorny web we weave when we decide to join our life with someone else’s.

So yes, I write about love and how people try to find it or avoid it at all costs. My characters cry and laugh, are on top of the world or skydive without a parachute at a moment’s notice. It ain’t a pretty fairy-tale but then again life isn’t either.

The next time you see a romance book, ask yourself this: what’s easier, going up against a flesh-eating zombie or finding true love?

I thought so.

Blurb:

Her heart is off limits. She's only looking for fun and sex.

Emily Stone is sick of men and their lying, cheating, self-centered ways. A stranger stealing a kiss on New Year's Eve is the last drop. She makes the resolution to turn the tables on the opposite sex and beat them in their own game.

But when the stranger turns out to be Blake Edwards, the brother of one of her students, Emily's plans start to go awry.

Blake pursues her with a vengeance. He's sexy, has all the right answers and makes her heart flip in her chest with just a smile. But he's also too confident, annoying, not to mention he can end her career with just a word at a time when money is scarcer than shooting stars.

Should Emily fight her strong attraction to him or add another name to her date card and pretend Blake's no different than the rest of them?

Buy Link:

http://www.freyasbower.com/index.phpmain_page=product_info&cPath=7&products_id=230

Wistful Wednesday

Recognition

I recently posted this at my publisher's site and it generated such interesting comments, I thought I would post it here to see what our readers thought of the topic, too.

We all secretly crave it, don’t we?

Recognition.

No matter what we do in life, whether it’s to get a problem eater to try peas or to crack the genetic code, deep down we all wish for the same thing: Recognition. For that one person to notice us and in noticing us, to let us know we are doing a good job. It doesn’t have to be anything grand, just a simple “well done” will do. But that simple gesture can go a long way to helping us validate our own self-worth.

If you’re a writer, that validation comes in the form of someone saying, “I loved your book.” There are no sweeter words than those – except, perhaps, “So when’s the next one coming out.” For a writer, this is more important than an award, more important than critical acclaim, for when a reader tells you that they love what you wrote, that is the culmination of your life’s work. Validation. Proof that all those months, if not years, of slaving over your masterpiece were well worth all of the blood, sweat and tears you wrung out of yourself in the process. And although I, for one, write the stories for myself first before deciding if I will share them with the public, secretly I yearn for that recognition. For someone to read what I wrote and say, “Hey, this is good.”

If you’re anything like me, it takes a lot to get from the just-for-me-stage to the ready-for-prime-time stage for two reasons: 1) I have a wicked internal editor who is constantly dogging my steps, driving me to perfection and goading me with the possibility that I might never achieve it because what I am putting down onto paper is drivel; and 2) I also have a fear of recognition. Deep down, I fear that someone will read what I wrote and proclaim it utter crap.

So you see, Recognition is a double-edged sword; it can cut either way.

What are your thoughts on Recognition? I’m curious to know.

Tantalizing Tuesday

Naughty Girls Need Love Too!

I apologize to our readers. We've promised you Lynn Crain, but due to circumstances beyond our control, she's not guest blogging with us today. Since Gracen was busy getting ready to go out of town (have a safe trip!), I volunteered to help her out and fill in today.

Before I get to what the title means, I'd like to begin with the video that inspired this whole post! While on Facebook, I saw this video posted by Eloisa James:

This video is so fun! I think it's great that Eloisa got involved in this! The fact that she was featured with two other writers (Connie Brockway and Teresa Medeiros) gave me the idea that, well, writers always seem to need fun! It started with a simple word substitution "writers" for "girls" but I couldn't just leave it at that, and here's what I came up with, so I hope you like it:

Writers Just Want to Have Fun
(to the tune of Girls Just Want to Have Fun)

By Carrie Hinkel-Gill

I wake up and check my email
My editor asks where’s your latest manuscript
I reply I’m not finished yet because
We writers, we want to have fun
Oh writers just want to have fun

The phone rings in the middle of the night
My editor yells you’ve missed your deadline again!
I tell her that I’m working on it right now
But writers we want to have fun
Oh writers just want to have -

That's all we really want
Some fun
When the manuscript is done
Writers - we want to have fun
Oh writers just want to have fun

Some villains take a beautiful girl
And hide her away from the rest of the world
I want my heroine to walk in the sun
Oh writers we want to have fun
Oh writers just want to have

That's all we really want
Some fun
When the manuscript is done
Writers - we want to have fun
Oh writers just want to have fun
We want to have fun,
We want to have fun....

Okay, so I hope you enjoyed that one! Now, as I was contemplating this song, another one popped into my head, Naughty Girls Need Love Too by Samantha Fox. Originally, I thought to do a parody for the song, but when I got to the line "I want my heroine to walk in the sun," and I thought about the last couple of books I read, it dawned on me that we do an awful lot to our heroines these days. They get kidnapped, they fall down wells, get poisoned, jump from windows, all sorts of nasty stuff. Some of them are merely "innocent" damsels, but an equal number are not so innocent. Take, for example, Kat Martin's heroine in Reese's Bride. Elizabeth lied to the hero, she broke their original betrothal for a marriage to an older, richer man and then comes to him years later asking for help, but still doesn't come clean about her lies.

While Elizabeth does have some legitimate and understandable reasons for what she did (one of which is that she was too weak to go against her dying father's wishes), I'm not so sure that Samantha James' heroine of Bride of a Wicked Scotsman, Maura, has any truly good excuses for her naughtiness, and she is certainly naughty!

There's a whole intricate story behind this, but to simplify things, Maura needs a mythic Celtic item, Circle of Light, to restore the good fortunes of her lands, as they went barren the day it was stolen by the Black Scotsman. 200 years later, after the death of her father, Maura conspires with the family butler to get the item back, but the scheme isn't exactly above board. She knows who he is, seeks him out, tells a tale to get invited to the Masquerade Ball of a Baron, doesn't tell him her name, shamelessly flirts with him as they both happen to be dressed as pirates (great scene!!), tricks him into marrying her by arranging to have them caught after a "night of passion" that he can't remember, then makes her treachery worse by arranging for the forced marriage to be performed by a pseudo priest! Then, she has a chance to come clean and save herself, and possibly her relationship with him, but she doesn't take it and risks losing him forever! Maura may be a very naughty girl, but as you find out in the end, she too needs love, not just a physical encounter.

I want to know, what "naughty girl" heroine(s) have you read about that need love? Tell us her name, the book she appears in, the author of that book, and what she did that makes her qualify as a "naughty girl".

More than one and can't decide, tell us about them all!

To help you with your choices, here's the video of Naughty Girls by Samantha Fox:

Mystic Monday

Getting Out of a Good Book

Yeah, I'm late today. Don't know why, but I'm extra exhausted today. I didn't even stay up that late last night.

Anyway, I read a good book over the weekend, Bride of a Wicked Scotsman by Samantha James, which I will be reviewing this weekend along with Wicked Knight by Tierney O'Malley. I've been offline since last Thursday and I was pretty busy. I had to get offline because I was playing this game Bryx online at Lifetime.com, so I had to just stop. It was a good break. I started reading late Thursday night and finished the book early last night (Sunday).

My current topic comes from what happened just before I started reading Bride of a Wicked Scotsman. I had been reading Tierney's book and at the same time, I had a completely different story to review for another review site. I just couldn't get into it, so, I decided to wait until I finished reading Tierney's book. I still couldn't get into it, but to be honest, I'm not sure if I could have gotten into any book at that point, so I put it down with the intention of coming back to it later. However, later that night, the urge to read came back and I really wanted to, but I was in my bedroom. Since I don't like to read from my computer while in my bed, I decided to take one from the stack on the dresser next to my bed (Samantha's), and was able to get into it right away.

This leaves me with one question - why was I not able to get into the one I had to review, but able to get into this one so easily?

Of course, there are several explanations that could fit here:

1. I wasn't in the mood to read another contemporary after finishing Tierney's contemporary novel.

2. I wasn't in the mood to read at the time I started the one I need to review.

3. I honestly couldn't get into the story because it isn't very good.

4. I wasn't in the mood to read a story with this particular storyline.

Now, there could even be more reasons, but I can't think of them at this point. However, this leads me to ask, how easy is it for you to get into a book after having finished one you really liked? Do you have to give yourself some time in between books, or can you just go right from one book to another?

Do you ever find you can't read a book because it turns out to be one genre (romantic suspense, paranormal, historical) but you're in the mood for a different genre (sci-fi, crime/drama, murder mystery)?

I ask because I tend to get saturated with one type of genre and sometimes I can't read one genre until I've satisfied my need for another.

SUPERNATURAL SUNDAY

Please help me welcome Diane Taylor into the moonlight today! Diane’s newest release is Toymaker, a short erotic read published by Shadowfire Press. Diane is multi-published and you can learn more about her and her books at her website: http://dianet-write.weebly.com/

~~~~~

Q. We all know that February hosts one of the most famous holidays for lovers…Valentine’s Day. It’s a romantic holiday showing your love through candlelit dinners, sending flowers, giving candy or even jewelry as gifts. But, at Moonlight, Lace & Mayhem, we believe love should be expressed all year long. So, if someone were romancing you, what little things could he/she do for you to show their love?

A: Little things. Like saying, “Okay, how about we go out to a movie?” or surprising things like a backrub, or springing for a day at a spa while the person in question cleans up the house so she arrives in time for that candle light dinner. Jewelry and flowers are nice, but it's small things like, “I love you, now go relax while I take care of things.”

My husband, now separated, used to say, “Honey, I'm not worthy of you.” when I asked him why, he said:

“Because no matter what I give you, no matter how cheap or insignificant it is, you treat it as if it were the finest gemstone in the world.”

To that I said, “That's because it came from you.” The rest of that night is sort of a blur because we spent the weekend in Vegas and visited one of my favorite shops. Don't ask for details, ya ain't getting any. :D


Q. Like all holidays, Valentine’s Day is too commercialized and in these economic times, many are shifting to homemade gifts. If you could give or receive one homemade gift to express your love, what would it be? Why?

A: I always love to grow things. Flowers are nice, but I like herbs. I think the best homemade gift I'd like to receive is herb seeds and planters. My homemade gift of choice to give.. which I do on occasion, is mix up herbal bath salts to give away to people.


Q. What is the most romantic act you have ever experienced?

A: MMMM... a toughie. The most romantic act? Riding on a Harley behind a hard bodied man to a camping event in a forest and eating dinner by firelight.


Q. If you could build the “perfect” mate, what physical attributes and personality traits would be a must?

A: Well, I like my men rugged, a little frayed around the edges, and a voice. You know that voice, ladies. The deep, gravelly one that makes your toes curl? Think Hugh Jackman, Vin Diesel, Gerard Butler... Okay the last is the accent to die for.. :D

For personality, I like a free spirit from time to time, but I also want respect for me as a person. I like being able to do things and have a supportive partner saying, “Okay, that's good, but try this and see how it works.” You know? Oh, and I want him to actually 'see' me as a woman, not stare at my chest and think it's going to talk to him.


Q. Romance books have a bad rap and are often misunderstood. Recently, I heard someone call it “porn for women”. How would you respond to this?

A: Who is this person? Where's my rolled up newspaper.. Bad dog.. Bad Bad... no scooby snacks!!!

Okay, sorry, heheh couldn't resist. “Porn for women?” Puh-leeze. If they think Romance books are bad, they've never read some of the garbage I've seen in certain unnamed type stores!

There's a big difference between Romance and Porn, and mostly because it's that women like more than just the descriptive sweaty sheets.. as it were. Note: Hubby used to have 'those' type of books in his own repitoire.. so I know exactly what I'm talking about.

For me, Porn is to Romance what a Ford Gremlin is to a Corvette Stingray. No comparison. :D


Q. Now, let’s get to your writing, Diane…If you could use only one sentence to convince someone to buy your book, what would you say?

A: Enter the realm of the imagination, the darkness, the heated desires that have been contained for too long and set them free.


Q. Do you prefer chocolate, jewelry or body massages? Is your preference reflected in your writing? If so, how?

A: Oh now you're getting difficult! I prefer both Chocolate and Massages. The first is because I must feed my sweet tooth or my Muse will get PMS, the second because I never get any massages.

I've never used either of them in a book, but I may just do it one of these times. But if I'm deprived of either coffee or chocolate, my characters tend to get a bit grumpy.


Q. In your books, are your characters suddenly whacked with Cupid’s Arrow and love ignites? Or does their love slowly blossom throughout the book?

A: LOL, Honestly, it's not love at first sight. More like he think she's harmless, until she shows him how it feels to be on the receiving end of being hit in the squishy bits. From there, the heat builds. I try to put in a few 'almost' scenes before the clothes actually start flying. But it's all in good fun.


Q. Have you ever used real life situations in a book? If so, would you please briefly share the situation? (Please protect the guilty and do not use real names.)

A: Moi? Protect... Okay.. you're right.. we must protect them. 'evil grin' if only from further humilia... ahem.. further torm.. no that's not right... Let's just say to keep them locked in the closet.

I haven't really used any real life situations, per se, but I do have a saying:

Writers don't get mad.. they write books.

Immortality can be a complete pain when you upset a writer. They remember you when the time comes for a truly nasty and humiliating scene where the victim..who looks supsiciously like the person who upset the writer... gets all his major faults handed to him before he becomes a mess on the floor.


Q. Who is your favorite secondary character and why? Will this secondary character become the hero/heroine in an upcoming novel?

A: I really don't have a favorite. They're all my favorites and usually carry a piece of me with them when they are published.

In my first book, Wassail Woes, I introduce Odin, Thor, and Loki to a human mortal... WW is Odin's story while Thor is the secondary character and Loki.. heheh well, Loki will be my third. And yes, Thor will get matched up with a woman in the story I'm writing... keep an eye out in March.

Toymaker I can't really say much about because it isn't a PG book. Trust me, I don't want my book to melt the blog site down with the heat. :D However, I will give you the cover art.. so you can enjoy it as much as I am.

BLURB:

Sandra Mackinon was happy with her life. She had a job, going to college, and a creative outlet for her arts and crafts. Happily devoted to the Celtic Goddess, Druantia, she was content, until her past caught up with her. Five years ago the goddess had rescued her from a power hungry 'coven' and gave her a new start on life.

Now they must use their wits to outsmart the men who want to use her, and the parents who want to save Sandra from herself.


EXCERPT:

Sandra opened a drawer and pulled out a pair of black jeans and a dark gray t-shirt. “Yes. There’s a couple of shackles and a collar on the rush order list that needs the scrollwork etched into the steel, then tempered.”

Lady Druantia nodded. “Let’s go to the kitchen, food is ready and we can work on my problem.”

Once settled in with the not too surprising eggs and bacon with coffee, Sandra leaned back in her chair. “Goddess, in all of five years that I’ve known you, you have never needed to leave our lifestyle behind closed doors. Tell me what’s wrong.”

The goddess hesitated, looking troubled. “It’s your parents and the coven I rescued you from.”

Sandra frowned at her, a chill walking its way up her spine, “Oooookay. I have a feeling I’m not going to like this topic of discussion considering the first wants to shove me into a Christian mental institution to save me from myself, even though I’m twenty five years old, and the second kidnapped me from my dorm room at the college for a ‘sacrifice’ to whatever god so they could make women their slaves and have ultimate power.”

“Yes, well, number two went to number one and told them that you were being held against your will as a Sexual Slave. Not only that, they’ve convinced your parents to bring in the law on this. Apparently, your parents claim they’d already signed you into the mental institution and you’re listed as an escapee.”

Sandra came to her feet with a shout of rage. “What? What in hell? After five years? They’ve left me alone for five years and now, now they’re doing this?” She shook her head then began to clean up the spilled coffee that had tipped over.

Druantia sighed, “Greed, mostly. According to my brother, Talieson, and Cernunnos, the coven got wind of your particular talents at crafting things. It didn’t matter that you returned to college and finished your Masters in Computer Sciences with a minor degree in history and world religions.” She smiled slightly. “You could probably outdo your parents in Catholicism at this point.”

~~~~~

Wassail Woes by Diane Taylor

What happens when Bah-Humbug meets... Oh.. My!

Blurb:

Jeri Butler is a Druid Pagan, making wassail on the night before Christmas Eve. She's a Solitary, who had just put the mistletoe over the entryway of her home, and had just settled down to do some programming work on her laptop for her job, when a loud sound is heard out front. Opening the door, she comes face to face with, oh my, Kris Odinsen.

He's crashed his bike and has a twisted foot to boot. And to top it off, literally, white hair and an ice blue eye, since the other is covered with an eye-patch. Oh what shall she do?

The holiday has definitely gotten hotter....

Excerpt:

And found herself flat on her back in her own driveway with a leather clad man pinning her down. When she tried to look at the reason for this sudden predicament, the man pulled her head into his neck. "Keep your head down." He rumbled into her ear. "My bike just exploded. Give it a few more moments."

Mentally, she groaned. Old Spice. Why did he have to wear Old Spice? The one scent that always drove her insane with desire. Burying her nose in the stranger's neck, she inhaled deeply, savoring the scent. After a moment, his lips began to kiss their way up from her shoulder, giving little love bites in the process.

"Don't tease, woman. I may be in pain, but I am still a man. One who has been away for a very long time."

"I can tell that," she wriggled her hips, feeling the massive bulge press into her body. "But if you don't want the firemen and the cops to think you're trying to rape me, you'd best get off of me so I can help you into the house." She nipped his ear. "Besides, I don't even know your name."

He smiled and rolled off her, then stood. "My name's Kris Odinson."

"I just bet you get a lot of really tasteless holiday jokes."

"A few." He looked off in the distance. "You're right. I can see the lights."

The blare of the sirens became louder as the vehicles approached. Jeri stepped up to his side and under his right arm. "Lean on me and we'll get you inside and off that foot. I'll have enough explaining to do to these lily-white police officers when they find you sitting on my couch and get a good look at the decorations." She blushed at the idea of what the straight-laced community would think of her home. "By the way, I'm Jeri Butler."

"A nice name. I guess you get teased about your name as well." He smiled as theyreached the porch. "Guess I don't have to ask who killed the man of the house."

They grinned at each other and said, in unison, "The Butler did it."

The front door opened and Kris looked up to spot the Mistletoe. A devilish smile came to his face as he looked at her. "You know this is a very interesting place to put a sprig of that mischievous little herb, don't you?"

Jeri grinned impishly. "Well, I had planned on my friends greeting people at the door with kisses. It's a friendly tradition amongst us four people. Everyone else just goes along with it."

"Well then," His shaggy head swooped down to nibble her lower lip, “allow me to be the first kiss for this plant."

Her words of agreement were silenced as his lips claimed hers. Strong arms wrapped themselves around her waist to draw her closer as their tongues met, and caressed. Slowly,he plundered her mouth, turning her blood into molten lava. Groaning, she ran her hands up his back, feeling the tautness of the muscles there as Kris moved to become more demanding.

Sternly, she told the good sense in the back of her mind to go to hell as she gave in to the total sensation of being held by this strange man in the doorway of her home.

Suddenly, her front lawn light up like a red and blue Christmas tree and someone yelled, "Freeze!"

Where you can find Diane Taylor and her books on the web:

http://dianet-write.weebly.com/
http://paranormal-minds.blogspot.com/
http://groups.google.com/group/order-of-demented-dreamers

Starlight Saturday

Weekly Book Review

PHANTASM FRIDAY

Greyhound

by
Glenn Bretz

Getting sleepy now. The third glass of whiskey joins forces with the sleeping pill and tranquilizer. The toxic triumvirate conspires to take me to where I am not. It’s their job.

When I come to I’m reclining in the seat of a Greyhound bus. My neighbor’s cat is pushing her head against my chin. I pet the cat with my left hand and unwrap a candy bar with my right. It chews like licorice, tastes like white chocolate.

“People need petting, too.”

I recognize the voice. She lives here. She’s always here, but she’s not always the same. This time she’s a strikingly beautiful blonde wearing a short white dress that I can almost see through. I stroke her cheek with the back of my hand, wrap my arm around her shoulder. Her response feels intimate enough to suggest a level of sexual comfort, familiarity. I don’t remember. I suppose that’s just as well. She’s much too young for me. I’m sure I got the better end of that bargain.

I have to remind myself that I might not be that old; not here. Here I can never actually see myself. It’s hard to determine what numerical value should be assigned to my foggy existence.

The center aisle is sparsely decorated with abandoned chewing gum, peanuts and popcorn. They leave plenty of room for the driver’s lackluster voice. “Shiremanstown.”

I grew up here. I suppose it’s where I’m going. I make my way down the aisle, cringe at the pneumatic hiss of the doors opening. I stop at the bottom of the stairs, look back to see her standing at the top. It gives me cause for a moment’s false hope. She’s not coming with me. She can’t. This is where our paths diverge.

She points to her feet, her bare feet. How cool is that? “Don’t forget your cat.”

Heaven forbid. My neighbor would never forgive me. I lean in, pick up the cat and don’t even bother to look up her skirt. I could never grow bored with her. So it must be my lack of corporeal substance.

The bus pulls away. I’m standing in front of a long, three story steel and glass building. When did the sleepy village of my youth become large enough to sustain such a garish edifice? I look about me, futilely searching for familiar landmarks. If I’m finally going home, I’ll need to get my bearings. It only takes a moment for the reality to set in. I can’t get there from here.

My chin keeps falling toward my chest. It’s all I can do to keep my eyes open. This is the place I go when I sleep. If I go to sleep here it must mean …

I open my eyes and the digital clock is staring at me. I get dressed and rush out the door.

*****

The boss turns his wrist and casts a sideways glance at his watch. I’m late. An explanation is expected. “I overslept. I’m getting old.” It happens to the best of us, but it doesn’t happen to whoever I become when I sleep.

He puts his hands behind his back, assumes his authoritative stance. “I’m getting old, too, but I still make it to work on time.”

I take a deep breath and sigh, quite deliberately. The donut box is empty. The coffee will be stale and bitter. Beyond that, I can’t see any real consequence to my tardiness. But he’s still standing there, insisting that I elaborate. “I think that the place I go when I sleep is trying to hold onto me.”

He arches his eyebrows, tilts his head to the side and looks at me as if I’m quite mad. He’s known me for twenty years. Is he just now figuring that out?

I plod my way through another tedious day. It’s slow; been slow since Bush, Cheney and partners finished raping the economy.

I nuke a TV dinner and pretend that it’s food. It’s leaves me empty and not wanting more. So, I have six episodes of Stargate for dessert. Thank heaven for Hulu.

The whiskey tugs at my eyelids and I’m too tired to tug back.

*****

Suddenly I’m back on the bus again. She tickles my ear with her pinky finger. “I’m feeling very generous. You can have anything you want.”

I take a moment to ponder the possibilities. One clear candidate springs to mind. “A chili-cheese dog would be wonderful.”

Her laughter is uninhibited, infectious. “You can have as many as you want when we get to the lake.”

I can see a vacation house, a cottage in the woods of southern Ontario. I remember clean water, clears skies and summer days when reality could still compete with dreams. “Cranberry Lake?”

“Why not?” she asks. “If you stay on the bus we’ll be in Canada tomorrow.”

North is north. I suppose we would be.

She looks at my lap; which is more than I can do. “You didn’t bring the cat this time. There’s nothing to anchor you to that other place.”

I sit there silently; measure the merit of all that I’ve lost and all that I might gain. The effort leaves me weary. I could easily nod off, but her lips are wet and cool against my neck. Her hair is honeysuckle and heather dancing a whirlwind waltz inside my nostrils. Her voice is a wind chime whisper. “Don’t go to sleep this time. Don’t leave me.”

There’s no need to answer. She already knows. She kisses me again and rests her head on my shoulder. The victor is congratulating the vanquished. I’ll no longer go where she can’t follow.

*****

My co-workers are gathered around the coffee pot discussing my unexpected departure. I’m viewed more fondly in past tense than I ever was in present. They’re all sad, but they shouldn’t be. I’m not. Sooner or later everyone finds a way to get here. I took the Greyhound.

~~~~~

Greyhound was a unique look into the mind of my friend and fellow author, G.R. Bretz. Glenn's newest release is Trill Song, published by Noble Romance Publishing. Another novel in Glenn's cache, a particular favorite of mine, is Absinthe Eyes & Other Lies. I'm not the only one praising Absinthe Eyes & Other Lies, but so are others:

Strega at The Pagan and the Pen Book Reviews said: "GR Bretz has written an astounding tale of dark, erotic love, lust and longing that will keep you as mesmerized...I was totally enthralled with this story and literally couldn’t put it down until I had finished reading every word...Don’t miss this extraordinary tale from a master storyteller! GR Bretz is a name you’ll want to remember and Absinthe Eyes & Other Lies is a book you won’t soon forget." To read the full review, go here: http://thepaganandthepen.wordpress.com/2009/11/20/book-review-absinthe-eyes-other-lies-by-gr-bretz/

Here's my take on Absinthe Eyes & Other Lies, a very creative piece of work I think everyone is missing if they're not reading it: http://moonlightlacemayhem.blogspot.com/2009/11/phantasm-friday_13.html

But since today isn't about absinthe, eyes, lies, or even Glenn's other works, I'll simply give you a link to the other books penned by G.R. Bretz and follow that with a blurb and excerpt of Trill Song: https://www.nobleromance.com/BrowseListing.aspx?author=54

Trill Song Buy Link: https://www.nobleromance.com/ItemDisplay.aspx?i=94

BLURB:

Liwa is a young woman with a mission. She means to end the war that has drained her society of its best and brightest for centuries. When Liwa was seven, the Healer fled the village in fear of her life. She left her six year old son, Temo, in Liwa’s care.

Now Temo has come of age and Liwa is determined to keep him from being sent to war. Her efforts incur the wrath of the ruling Elders. Liwa must come to terms with her conflicted feelings for Temo, as the two of them fight their way north in search of the legendary Andrigorn valley and the one person who can help Liwa end the war: Temo’s mother.

EXCERPT:

A Trill can sing six notes in a single beat
She can sing in octaves heard only by the beasts of field and forest.
Trill song tickles your skin like the memory of mosquito bites.
It whispers in your ear like the wind in the willows.
It surges through your mind like a spring thaw when the water
is cold and frothy and still tastes like snow.
It is the memory of birth and the birth of memory.
They are Utep. Their world turns on the song of a Trill.

Chapter One

The sun came out for a single day in late December; at first, only a single, slender white ray poking through the thick, gray clouds. The morning grew and the sun climbed high into the sky like a diva ascending the stage. The brilliant yellow orb swelled and shone and sent the clouds scurrying to wherever dark clouds go when they aren’t hanging over the lands of the Utep.

In a sturdy log cabin in a village a few miles east of the Great River the four village Elders huddled in front of the fireplace. They were greedy women; such is the nature of Elders. They would swallow the fire’s warmth with no thought of the young woman lying on a hastily improvised birthing bed of straw and cloth, who may have greater need of its warmth.

The Elders cast flickering, bent shadows over her swollen stomach. An omnipresent force in the lives of the villagers, they were present for every sowing, every harvest. They stood there, stern and stoic, and acted as if the bounty of the earth was somehow their doing, although they neither toiled nor tilled.

They attended every Union between man and woman, and they were present for every birth. In the past few decades the need to watch each birth had become a matter of much importance to them. The world had a way of changing its aspect every so often. The change seemed near due and it always began with a birth.

The midwife knelt beside the young woman and wiped the sweat from her forehead with a cool damp cloth. “I can see the head. One more good push and it will be finished.”

The young woman looked up at her with hopeless eyes. Childbirth was so much worse than she had imagined. The herbal tea clouded her vision and fogged her mind, but did little to ease the pain.

She thought about her husband. She loved him for the life springing from her. She hated him for not being there by her side, but he could not be. Utep brides always watch their husbands march to the Island from which no one returns.

She summoned what little strength she had left, poured the last of her stamina into the effort. Her faced puffed up and turned bright red. The veins in her forehead swelled and throbbed and threatened to burst. The pain gnawed at her groin, tearing her apart, ripping her asunder to make way for the next generation. She knew she could bear no more. The pain would surely kill her, but the life within her had its own steadfast strength, fueled by an unrelenting determination to be.

The midwife held the newborn upside down and smacked its bottom. The girl child opened her mouth and made her first sound. More than a plaintive infant wail, it was a single note, crystal clear and all-compelling. The beautiful sound spilled from the cabin and swept across the village. The echoes raced into the woods and sent showers of snow falling from the bare branches of the trees. The sound hadn’t been heard in centuries, but every living being in earshot recognized it immediately.

The children of the village were gathered in a nearby field delighting in their winter enterprise. They were furiously trying to build the largest snowman in memory, a snowman that would be worthy of song. Music was the standard by which the Utep measure all events: are they worthy of song?

At the newborn child’s cry, the children abandoned their snowman and headed for the cabin. Foxes, squirrels and rabbits raced past them and left dotted trails in the fresh white powder. The air came alive with the frantic fluttering of a thousand wings. Birds descended on the cabin and replaced the thatch roof with a much nicer one of multi-colored feathers. Wolves came in from the woods and lay down beside lambs. On days such as this old animosities were set aside.

* * * * *

The midwife handed the baby to Esme, the eldest of the Elders. Esme willed her hands not to tremble, but she felt as if she had reached into the fireplace and gathered up a handful of hot, glowing embers. She looked at the other three Elders and nodded. The child would probably complicate their lives, but they could speak of it later, in private.

She handed the infant child to its mother. “You are blessed above all women. We are blessed above all villages.”

She didn’t believe a single word, but ritual demanded she say them, and the Utep clung to their rituals like a drowning sailor clings to the flotsam of his once noble vessel.

The midwife opened the cabin door. The children were gathered in front of it, waiting to be told what they already knew.

She nodded, spread her arms wide, and her smile swallowed her face. “Send word to every village in the land. Today a Trill is born.”

In a land where music is everything, Trills were the ultimate evolution, and they were quite rare. It had been nearly three hundred years since last the lands of the Utep were blessed with Trill song.

Trill Song Buy Link: https://www.nobleromance.com/ItemDisplay.aspx?i=94