Sandy M’s review of The Ruby Kiss (Magic Knot Series, Book 3) by Helen Scott Taylor
Paranormal Romance published by Dorchester 15 Nov 11

This magical world of Helen Scott Taylor’s only gets better and better with each book. Her characters are full of emotion, and I found myself tearing up a couple of times when it looks as though all hope is lost. The writing is strong and tailor made to pull you in so you can experience each and every nuance of the storyline as the characters do themselves. Outstanding.

We’ve met Nightshade in the previous two books in the series. He’s not always been a stand-up character, but he does go through a turn-around and tries to make amends for the damage and hurt he’s caused. He also discovers he has a younger brother and vows to keep the boy away from their father, a man who never showed anything but evil interest and intent and hate toward Nightshade. He’ll not allow that to happen to Rhys. So now we have a character who we didn’t like very much early on, who has now become a sympathetic character and hero material. Thank goodness Ms. Taylor saw this in Nightshade, because this book is now my favorite of the series. I’m wondering how close it was that he might not have gotten his own book.

Ruby is the typical modern-day Scottish lass, independent, relying on no one but herself. Her mother used Ruby’s “affliction” throughout her childhood to try to locate the father who never showed any interest in his daughter – or her mother. Finally refusing to help her mother any longer led to the woman’s death and Ruby’s freedom. Her “affliction” still hits once a month on the full moon – grass, trees, flowers, vines and the like grow at alarming rates wherever she is, so secluding herself for that time is the only way to keep things under control.

When Nightshade crashes through her skylight onto her bed and after deciding she doesn’t need her trusty bat as a weapon against the tall, dark, and sexy nightstalker, she nearly gives in to his sensual allure. But fearing being controlled again, Ruby pushes Nightshade away despite her want of him. So he takes flight once again to track down his father to force him to cede his rights to Rhys. The next thing he knows Ruby is also at the Gathering of Kith and Kin and not of her own volition. Forced there by creatures she’s never seen before, she discovers the otherworld is looking for her – the new Mistress of the Beasts – all thanks to her father, who is a piece of work just as Nightshade’s is. Now she’ll never be rid of her affliction.

From this point on, things really begin to move. Nightshade has vowed to protect Ruby no matter what comes her way, and a lot comes forth. She has to deal with the King of the Unseelie Court, who wants to use her powers for himself. Ruby still has to learn how to harness and apply those powers. She goes before the Bride of the Light at the Seelie Court, which is one of the best scenes in the book when Devin, Nightshade’s demon friend, sees the love of his life again, the daughter of the Seelie King and Queen, who refuse to allow them to be together. The longing, the regret, the love are entwined between them and it’s a very moving scene, especially because Devin is a character you come to like very quickly.

Another character who turns you completely around is Twister, the Unseelie King. The way he uses and handles Ruby in the beginning makes you despise him, but when you learn why he needs her powers, how long he’s been waiting, you feel so differently then. And even more so when he finally gets what he’s always hoped for and it doesn’t bring back to him what he so desperately wants. Very heart wrenching. Another such scene is later in the book when Troy, Devin’s father, sacrifices all for Nightshade and Ruby to be together. His selfless act surprises both of them and the reader, but it’s the scene when Devin comes to his father afterward that had me in tears. All of this revolves around Ruby’s, and others’, magic knots, which are stones that hold a person’s essence of mind, body, and soul. Though magic knots are a part of the previous two books, of course, they’re much more front and center here, and Ms. Taylor ties her characters and the reader in knots over them.

I think Ms. Taylor has made an admirable hero out of Nightshade. He wants a son, a family, and he learns what love truly means. Ruby is a typical woman, self-conscious about her weight, stubborn, independent, no one’s doormat, and, turns out, more adventurous than she thought she’d be again. Nightshade loves her lushness and extra curves. A man after my own heart. She does have trust issues, which pushes Nightshade away a couple of times, but she eventually does learn to give him her trust in a world where it’s needed at every turn. Ultimately, they are a unique couple and you cheer them on whenever it looks as though things may not work out for them.

I’m hoping Devin gets his book in the future. But with the business Ms. Taylor got caught up in with Dorchester, I have no idea if that will happen. I’m sure that would be another kick-in-the-gut read if it does come to be. Keeping my hopes high for it anyway.

Grade: A+

Summary:

A Powerful Nightstalker: Nightshade hungers to bring the strong and beautiful to their knees beneath the ecstasy of his bite, but he has never known sexual lust–not until he meets Ruby McDonald. The curvy redhead wields attitude and strength like an ax and she would be the perfect mother of his children. Caught in a clash between the Seelie and Unseelie courts, he battles not only for her survival but also for her heart.

A Mortal with a Secret: Plagued by magic inherited from a father she never knew, Ruby wants answers. Nightshade has them. But when he crashes into her bedroom late one night, the Fairy’s silvery eyes, dark intensity, and striking black wings tempt her with a whole lot more: a mysterious world waiting to be explored, a dangerous love that binds her in body, mind, and spirit, and the children she thought she could never have. The future offers her a choice between freedom and a power some would kill to possess. Should she deny her desires, or succumb to the seduction of…THE RUBY KISS

Read an excerpt.

Other books in this series:

This just in…

If you were intrigued by my review to read Erin Kellison’s debut novel, Shadow Bound, here’s your chance to get a few dollars off your purchase of the book with hardly any effort at all!

Head over to Dorchester Publishing.

Read the prologue from Shadow Bound.

Answer a trivia question.

Your $5 off coupon will be emailed to you.

Place an order and apply your coupon.

How darned easy is that!!

If for some reason you’re not sure this book is for you, read my review in addition to the prologue. I think you’ll be very intrigued!

Consider yourself flashed.

Sandy M’s review of Shadow Bound (Shadow Series, Book 1) by Erin Kellison
Paranormal Romance published by Leisure Books 29 Jun 10

I just love it when I find a debut author who wows me. Erin Kellison has written a mind-blowing first novel, full of fae, death, darkness, wraiths, and, of course, love and romance that triumphs it over all

I have to be honest, when I read the prologue I thought this book might be a little too dark for me. I’m not one who likes death on every page and all that goes with it. And we meet death right off the bat, in the form of a handsome man, a form which Kathleen O’Brien has given to an otherwise unattractive being. He’s followed her for years, knowing he would one day come for her, watching over her in the meantime. She calls to him this time, asking to see him, they’ve been through so much together over the years. Knowing he shouldn’t, he goes to her. Kathleen proclaims him Shadowman and asks him for nine more months.

Twenty-six years later we meet the culmination of their night together, Talia. She has inherited her father’s ability to manipulate shadow, so dating is tricky, but she’s about to embark on her dream job so that’s where her her focus lies. But in the space of one drawn breath, her world is torn apart. Strangers come looking for Talia, and when they turn violent (which is an understatement for what these beings do), it’s Talia’s screams that bring her father to her from the shadows of twilight.

On the run from the monsters who killed her roommate, Talia has been hiding in the shadows for weeks. It’s Adam Thorne who rescues her, a man who is driven and determined…to kill his brother. Founder of Segue Institute, he is preparing for a war with the Wraith who are under the guidance of a demon intent on taking over the world. Jacob is a Wraith and in captivity at the institute until a way can be found to destroy once and for all the creature he’s become. Talia is Adam’s secret weapon.

However, she has other ideas. She’d rather be on her own than part of a war not of her making, but Adam knows which buttons to push to guarantee her cooperation. He’s been waiting for years for this, and it’s going to happen. What neither of them expect is their mutual attraction, even though they are somewhat distrustful of the other, but running for their lives when the institute is infiltrated brings them even closer together.

The pace is fast and furious once these Wraiths have Adam and Talia in their sights. They escape time and again by mere minutes or inches. I really enjoyed the way Ms. Kellison uses Talia’s shadow ability throughout the book. From hiding herself to allowing Adam to experience the phenomenon to letting it all go when they make love, it’s all done quite ingeniously.

Adam did slightly irritate me a couple of times with his single-mindedness in getting rid of his brother, but when his enlightenment comes, I realized what Ms. Kellison had done. Same situation with the friends Adam loses. I was especially unhappy with the last one, but all was forgiven when I found out what’s in store for Custo later.

Which reminds me, the second book in the series, Shadow Fall, is due out next month, and I am looking forward to it. Absolutely.

Grade: A-

Summary:

Death

Some people will do anything to avoid it. Even trade their immortal souls for endless existence.

Wraiths

Secretly, inexorably, they are infiltrating our world, sucking the essence out of unsuspecting victims with their hideous parody of a kiss.

Segue

Adam Thorne founded the Institute to study and destroy his monster of a brother, but the key to its success is held in the pale, slender hand of a woman on the run. There is something hauntingly different about Talia O’Brien, her unknowing sensuality, her uncanny way of slipping into Shadow.

Twilight

This is the place between life and what comes after – a dark forest of fantasy, filled with beauty, peril, mystery. And Talia is about to open the door.

Read an excerpt.

Other books in this series:

Dawna’s review of Soul Song (Dirk and Steele, Book 6) by Marjorie M. Liu
Paranormal Romance published by Leisure Books 3 Jul 07

I’ve always been told never judge a book by its cover. But when I glanced the sexy man emerging out of the turbulent ocean depths, ready to walk right off the page, I was compelled to pick this book up.  Soul Song by Marjorie M. Liu has a lot more going for it than just its cover art.  She’s created intriguing characters full of depth and a riveting story that will keep you turning pages.

Her hero, M’cal is a tortured merman sent to steal souls for an evil witch.  With a sirens voice he literally sings their souls right out of them.  He’s compelled to do so by order of the witch and has given up all hope of escape until he meets his latest victim, Kitala Bell, a renowned violin player.  The first time he sees her on stage with instrument in hand, her music calls to him.    For some reason he has the power to withstand the witch’s compulsion when it comes to Kitala.  He finds the desire to protect her rather than harm her, but the peril she’s in may threaten both of their souls.

Kitala makes her own kind of magic through her music.  Old Jaz Marie has tried to teach her how to use that magic, but Kitala never paid much attention to her grandmother.  She never wanted to accept the visions of death she saw either, but lately they have become more frequent and when she sees a beautiful woman in her audience with a knife through the eye, she can only do one thing: warn her.  By intervening, Kitala puts her own life at risk and is forced to form a partnership with a beautiful man whose voice can kill, but there is something about M’cal that doesn’t frighten her away.

What I liked best about this book was the fast pace and twists.  You never really know who the bad guy is until the very end.   And Ms Liu even does a good job of making you feel a bit of sympathy for the witch, be it very slight. In my opinion, it takes a good writer to do so.   I recommend this book for anyone who likes a perfect blend fantasy and danger, a sexy merman that can walk on land and a heroine who can hold her own.

I give this book an A because I haven’t found anything quite like it before and it definitely kept me turning pages.

Grade: A

Summary:

Against her will, Kitala Bell foresees the future. But only deaths, and only violent.

Kitala’s own future is in peril. From the ocean’s depths rises an impossible blend of fantasy and danger, a creature whose voice is seduction incarnate, whose song can manipulate lives the way that Kitala herself manipulates the strings of her violin…even to the point of breaking. He is a prince of the sea, an enigma-a captive stretched to the limit of his endurance by a woman intent on using him for the purest evil. And when survival requires he and Kitala form a closer partnership than either has ever known, the price of their bond will threaten not just their lives but the essence of their very souls.

Read an excerpt.

Other books in this series:

I admit when Kristie J emailed I pretty much said yes before I finished the email because it was Kristie and she said the code word – WESTERNS.

I envy those of you who were around for the high ‘trend’ of the western. Lucky for me so many of you have recommended such amazing novels I have read, loved, collected, and hoarded to read while I wait for the ‘trend’ to come into vogue again.

Every year it seems, the western is on the verge of a comeback, every (ok most, but that post comes later in the week) publisher wants that NEXT great western to publish. And this year will be our year. Why you ask? Because like the spirit of the west – our hope springs eternal – there is a never ending well of rebirth. No matter what the past sins of publishing, this year, if they only pack up their covered wagons and moved west, it could happen!

Of course there are those publishers who will be forever be in my heart: Harlequin Historical, HQN, Dorchester, Kensington, and Samhain. When I ask (and ask and ask and ask) why we don’t have more historical westerns, the blame more often than not is put right back in our court.

Now I know Kristie, Wendy and I do – we read them, buy them, and WANT them. And the plan for The Great Western Drive is to spend the week telling you why you should read them, buy them, and WANT them too.

Read A Western: Cowboys Need Love Too.

Thank you for stopping by Duck Chat today. Welcome!

Author Karen Whiddon has been keeping her fans happy the last ten plus years with a variety of romance genres from paranormal to contemporary to romantic suspense. Her first book, Desert Fire, was published in 1997 and now with more than twenty books to her credit, she’s celebrating her latest release, Wild Wolf, this month.

Growing up near the Catskill Mountains of New York and the Rocky Mountains of Colorado, Karen now lives in North Texas with her husband of twenty-two years. They have a daughter who is a kindergarten teacher. Some of her loves include animals, going on cruises and fishing trips, traveling to Las Vegas and just about anywhere else, and she just loves spending time with her husband.

Karen has graciously offered to give away two copies of the Midnight Cravings anthology in which her novella Mate of the Wolf is featured. So be sure to leave a meaningful comment or question for Karen to be in the running.  Now let’s chat!

DUCK CHAT: Karen, you’ve got a terrific backlist, but let’s start with your Silhouette Nocturne series, The Pack. First would you tell how the idea for the series came about?

KAREN WHIDDON: I was working on a proposal and rewriting and it popped into my head that the heroine was a shape-shifter. I wasn’t sure the book would even sell and certainly didn’t anticipate doing a series, but my agent submitted it to Leslie Wainger of Silhouette and she ended up offering for it and a second, blind book.

DC: There’s nine books in the series so far. Is it possible to tell how they’re related and give a little insight as to the series as a whole?

KW: The series centers on the idea that a sub-society (The Pack) of shape-shifters exists in tandem with our current human society. I usually set them either in The Catskills in New York, North Texas, or Boulder, Colorado (all places I’ve lived), though I have set one on Vancouver Island, BC, Canada. Occasionally a story will have a reappearance of characters from one of the previous books, and sometimes the hero or heroine of a book will have been a secondary character in a previous book, but other than that, each book is basically stand-alone. I continually introduce new elements into the stories, such as vampires. They’re a lot of fun.
DC: If you could retire any question and never, ever have it asked again, what would it be? Feel free to answer it.

KW: A lot of people seem to think that I’m very odd, since I write paranormal stories. Believe me, I’m an ordinary person who also happens to be a writer. I’m a wife, mother, and insurance agent too. I don’t attend any weird, masked rituals except maybe in my dreams!

DC: I’ve heard writers often say their stories take them in surprising directions, or dialogue flows from some unknown place. Is it the same with you? Do your characters surprise you sometimes?

KW: Yes, my characters always surprise me. Though I’m required to submit a synopsis to my editor, even though they might have contracted for a “blind” book, I don’t like to write to outline. For me, the fun of writing is discovering what will happen next. It has to be new to me in order for me to write it fresh. Often I’ll be doing some minor household chore, like dusting or vacuuming, and I’ll realize something about one of the characters in whatever book I’m working on. Or a scene will occur to me and I’ll have to dash off and write it down.

DC: Do you ever argue with your characters while you’re writing? Who usually wins?

KW: No, I can’t say I’ve every really argued with them. Sometimes I might try to make them do something they wouldn’t really do and when the scene isn’t working, or I become stuck, that’s their gentle way of pointing this out to me.

DC: Your latest release is a book in The Pack series, Wild Wolf, which is Simon and Raven’s story. Can you give us a look into this book and their relationship?

KW: I began wondering about the possibility of a shape-shifter gone feral when I wrote Secrets of the Wolf. Several books later, I realized I had to write Raven’s story. She’s a Feral Shifter, or one who prefers to live as a wolf. This is because of a horrible, abusive past. Then I started thinking about the Pack Society and how true Ferals could endanger them, so I created the Society of Protectors. Their job is to assess and rehabilitate Ferals. They also, like trained military assassins, exterminate Ferals when necessary. Simon, the hero, is a Protector who has been sent to assess Raven.

Here’s a special treat – an excerpt from Wild Wolf:

“Another Feral shifter.” Hanging up the phone, Simon Caldwell dragged his hand across his face and tried to smile at his fellow Protector and friend, Anton Beckham, known as Beck. “There’s been a murder—a professor up at CU, in Boulder. They think a Feral killed him, so it’s another search and destroy. The Feral’s been located—living up on a nearby mountain. Your assignment, this time.” There was more—much more, but Beck would receive that info in the case file.

Beck frowned. “Doesn’t the Council realize how burned out I am? Hellhounds, I had to eliminate my last three.”

“Let me talk to Ross.” Simon should have seen this coming. Burnout. All the telltale signs were there. “I’ll take the job. You need a break.”

“You’ve killed your last seven,” Beck pointed out. “If anyone should have burnout, it’s you.”

“I don’t get burnout.”

“Right,” Beck said, grimacing. “You’re the Terminator.”

Grinning, Simon shrugged and poured himself another cup of coffee. Returning to his seat at the polished steel table, he took a long drink. “Unlike you, I don’t let emotions get in the way of what I have to do.”

“Emotions have nothing to do with it. One of those last three Ferals could have been rehabilitated. I know it.”

“You knew it, huh? When did you realize you might be wrong? When he attacked you and you nearly lost your arm?”

“The Council wouldn’t give me enough time,” Beck insisted. “Come on, man. Show a little compassion.”

Simon said nothing, knowing any further argument would be pointless. Beck knew The Protector’s Creed as well as he did. Drumming his fingers on the metal table that had always seemed more appropriate in a laboratory than a kitchen, he sipped his coffee and stared at nothing.

“You really don’t give a wolf’s ass, do you?” Beck sounded faintly accusatory.

“Of course I do. But let’s look at the stats.” Simon took a long drink from his chipped mug. “Out of the last forty-seven Ferals encountered in the past year, only six were able to be saved.”

“Grim statistics, true. But you know as well as I do that some of the Protectors are trigger-happy, particularly the European and Middle Eastern contingent.”

“First threatening move, you shoot.” Simon hated pointing out the obvious. As soon as his friend left the room, he was going to call in a recommendation that Beck be sent on enforced medical leave. An uncertain Protector was a dead Protector. He didn’t want that to happen to Beck.

“You have to give them more of a chance.”

When Simon didn’t comment, Beck pushed himself away from the table.

“You know what your problem is, Caldwell?”

“I’m sure you’re going to tell me.” Simon couldn’t keep the weariness from his voice. “Let me take a wild guess. I’m too hard. Unfeeling. Too old.”

“Nope,” Beck said, surprising him. “You’re not too old. You’re only thirty-four, a year older than me. I can tell you think I shouldn’t take this assignment, because you’re worried I’ll fail. But you’ve got a worse problem than I do. I think you identify too closely with the Ferals. ‘Grass is greener’ type of thing. That’s why you terminate them so quickly. Because they scare you.”

Simon snorted. “You’re wrong.”

“Maybe I am.” Beck sounded tired. “But honestly, Simon. Sometimes you seem dangerously close to Feral yourself.”

“The end result is all that matters.” Eyes narrowed, Simon slammed his mug on the drainboard. “I’ll ignore your insult. This time. Remember, I’m the one the Council always calls to clean up the mess guys like you make.”

Beck sighed, head in hands. “Sorry.”

“I’m going to take this case,” Simon told him. “Not only because you need a break, but because this seems particularly intriguing. The murdered professor is rumored to have been keeping two shifters captive for years. One of them is the Feral.”

“How’d we locate this one?”

Simon knew his grin looked savage. “How do we always? Rumors of a werewolf, sightings. Thefts, appearances. Humans talk. Then finally, a shifter reports to their local council.”

“What about the other Feral, the second one?”

“The Society hasn’t located her yet. She’s either very careful, or very lucky.”

“Her?” Beck looked even more troubled now.

Simon nodded. “Two females. One—or both of them—is likely the killer.”

“Kept captive? Hounds know, they had reason.”

“There you go again.” Shaking his head, Simon didn’t bother to hide his disgust. “I’m taking this case.”

“Go ahead.” Beck didn’t argue. Not about that. “But you know what? You’re cold. Hard. I think it’s time the Council should reconsider their training methods. Like taking us from our parents before we even start school.” He didn’t bother to hide the bitterness in his voice. “Most of us can’t even remember our birth family. There’s no reason.”

“First off, they don’t take us. We’re given. You know that. When we exhibit skills beyond those of others our age. Our parents are honored to send us. You know that.”

“Maybe.” Beck dropped his head. “But I still think we go to training too young.”

“Do you? Years of training hones our skills, inspires loyalty. In the end, none of that matters.” Simon crossed his arms, weary of the same old argument. “We’re born to be what we’re born to be. Forgetting that is what gets you in trouble.”

Pushing himself up, Beck flipped him the bird before dropping his cup in the sink. “I’m going upstairs. Do you want to make the call, or shall I?”

“I’ll do it.”

As soon as the other man left the room, Simon picked up the phone and dialed Ross, their unit commander. No way was he letting Beck go on this assignment. Until he got his head together, Beck was a disaster waiting to happen.

Blowing snow and biting wind made Raven shiver, despite the thick pelt gifted to her by the Old One when she died. Raven had cried when the old wolf went still, lifting her human face to howl into the night, exactly like her wolf-family did. The Old One had passed last winter, a season marked by death amid swirls of snow, ice and bitter, bitter cold.

She couldn’t stay wolf always, and in her human shape Raven hated the cold. The bone-numbing chill was the one thing that tempted her to rejoin the human world. When she became wolf, she felt warm enough. Human was another story. No matter how many layers of stolen clothes she wore, she couldn’t banish the cold from her skin.

After last winter, she’d nearly packed it in and given up. Only her pack of wild wolves had kept her in the cave, shivering when she was human, gritting her teeth and counting the hours until she could become wolf once more.

When spring had finally arrived, the pack had rejoiced. In summer and fall, every day had been a celebration of life, of living.

Until now. This day, winter started again. Early.

Shivering, she cursed her human form, hating the weakness of her olfactory senses, so sharp when she was wolf. Yet even as human, she sensed something was wrong, something more than the icy wind blowing over the mountains, more than the promise of snow in the air.

Beside her, Shadow whimpered.

“You sense it, too.” Absently, she stroked the thick pelt of the wolf at her side. Her pack knew her scent, whether human or like them, and one or two stayed with her always. As protection and for company.

Two more heavy-coated wolves glided closer. The animals had started growing their winter coats weeks ago, their internal clock telling them the time had come. As human, Raven had noted the change and stepped up her gathering and storing, remembering the long winter the prior year. This year she’d vowed none of her pack would starve.

Despite her preparations, she still felt unsettled. Something was definitely not right.

Later, she’d change to her wolf-self and scout out the area, but now she needed to gather more wood. She thought she’d beefed up her food rations—nuts, berries, whatever she could find—enough. Years ago, in her human time, she’d learned to cure meat, but now she had no way to obtain the salt to make the brine. Yet her pack, always generous with their kills, had not protested when she’d taken choice cuts of meat to try and freeze them, burying them in the crevice areas where her cave dipped deep into the earth.

She wanted to be ready. Yet she worried that despite her hurried preparations, winter had arrived too quickly. She needed human supplies—salt and matches, blankets and a newer thermal sleeping bag to replace the tattered one she’d stolen. A fire would be essential if she wanted to survive the subzero temperatures this high in the mountains. Even her pack liked the warmth, though she needed it. Unlike her furry pack, she couldn’t keep her wolf-form with its thick pelt indefinitely. Eventually, she went back to the form she’d been born in, which pained her.

In the summer, when the hikers and campers flooded the mountain, she’d taken what she could, trying her best not to inconvenience anyone. But now, with the icy north wind howling over the mountains, humans no longer came to the mountain. There’d be no choice for it—she’d have to make a quick trip down into civilization to steal what she needed, fast. As soon as the storm passed, she’d do so.

A movement on the horizon caught her attention. The animal beside her growled low in her throat. The other wolves moved up to flank her, circling her with their silent protection.

Raven stared—uncertain whether what she saw was real. If not a vision, she had a problem. Despite the blizzard, a human climbed the mountain, heading directly toward them. The furious wind and blowing snow had carried away his scent and he’d gotten way too close to her pack’s sanctuary.

Of course, he might be lost. A lost human and a blizzard usually equaled death, unless she led him to safety. She preferred to do the latter. Two winters ago another man had died on her mountain. The search teams had nearly found her cave and her pack before locating his body.

With the human here, she’d be better off as wolf.

She dropped low to the ground and stripped off her clothes. Then, muttering her usual prayer, began the change from human to wolf. Over time, she’d learned to shape-shift in seconds. Now she’d track the stranger…

DC: What is sure to distract you from sitting down and working/writing?

KW: Oh my gosh, the internet. That, and Spider Solitare! Recently I’ve taken to handwriting in a lined notebook with a nice pen, then transferring to computer. That seems to help remove the distractions and free up my creativity.

DC: The Pack started out as Silhouette Intimate Moments and now they’re being published as Nocturnes. Has this made a difference in the way you write the stories?

KW: The only real difference might be that I am able to focus more on the impact the paranormal aspect has on the relationship. But writing for IM, I also had no real restrictions, as long as the love relationship was center stage. Everything else revolves around that.

DC: How do you feel your male or female characters have evolved over your career? Do you think you write them differently now than you did when you started?

KW: Probably. I think my characters now are much more multi-faceted than they were when I wrote my first book back in 1997 for Kensington Precious Gems.

DC: You have several books with Magic in the title, Shadow Magic, Soul Magic, and Missing Magic, just to name a few. Do these books make up a series or are they all unrelated? Where did the idea come from for the books?

KW: The Magic books were all Fae Paranormals published by Dorchester for their Lovespell line. Most of them, with the exception of Lone Star Magic and Missing Magic, were historical paranormals and like my Pack stories, revolved around a loose premise of a society. In those stories it’s the Fae.

As far as the idea for those, I’d written five short contemporary romances for Kensington and wanted to do something different. So in 2001 I wrote a book for myself with a time traveling heroine and a half Fae, half human, Prince. I sent it to Chris Keeslar at Dorchester, who bought it. The book did very well and was reprinted in 2007. All of those Magic books feature a Fae character, usually the hero (except Shadow Magic, where it was the heroine).

DC: Is there a genre you haven’t tackled but would like to try?

KW: Hmmm. I’ve done contemporary, historical, paranormal, and suspense. I don’t know – maybe erotica?

DC: What advice would you give to your younger self?

KW: Patience is a much underrated virtue. I wanted to be a writer so badly that I’d often send material off without proofing it or re-editing it.

DC: If you were a book, what would your blurb be?

KW: Wow, interesting question. As I grow older, I get more comfortable in my own skin. Yet I love to explore new areas (as in my recent foray into the world of physical fitness). Since more story isn’t yet completely written, I’d have to put a big question mark.

DC: What would be your “voice’s” tagline?

KW: I’ve been told I have a “strong” voice, but am not quite sure what that means. I don’t like to write overly florid description or meandering prose, but like to cut to the chase.

DC: If you had never become an author, what do you think you would be doing right now?

KW: LOL, my other job is running a commercial insurance agency. But, when I was young, I had some talent at art and my high school art teacher recommended me for a scholarship at an art school. I also love working with animals and showed horses and obedience dogs in the past. No matter what, I’d have to have some form of artistic outlet.

DC: What’s on the horizon for Karen Whiddon?

KW: I just turned in another Pack story and am working on the next book in The Cordasic Legacy for Silhouette Romantic Suspense. I’m contracted for two more Pack books after that and another SRS. Beyond that, time will tell. I’d like to do another single title, like my Magic books, but more of a contemporary romance.

Lightning Round:

- dark or milk chocolate?    – Definitely dark.
- smooth or chunky peanut butter?    -  Smooth
- heels or flats?    -  Both. I love me some high heels, but spend most of my time in flats.
- coffee or tea?    – Again both. I drink coffee every morning and tea every afternoon.
- summer or winter?    – Winter. I love snow and Christmas and bundling up with a nice fire in the fireplace and some hot cocoa. Hmmmm.
- mountains or beach?    – Mountains. I grew up in the Catskills and the Rockies and two of my other favorite places on earth are Alaska and British Columbia.
- mustard or mayonnaise?    -  Both. Depends on what kind of meat.
- flowers or candy?    – Flowers.
- pockets or purse?    – Oh, purse. I have quite a collection of purses.
- Pepsi or Coke?    – Diet Coke.
- ebook or print?    -  Print. I love the feel of paper and have a huge library. Not to say that I won’t even break down and get a Kindle/

Just for some extra fun:

1. What is your favorite word?    – Sleep.
2. What is your least favorite word?    – Deadline
3. What turns you on creatively, spiritually or emotionally?    – Beautiful nature. Forest, lake, mountains, beach.
4. What turns you off creatively, spiritually or emotionally?     – Loud noises – TV or voices.
5. What sound or noise do you love?    – Cranes over the lake. Eagles over the ocean. Crows.
6. What sound or noise do you hate?    – Loud TV is the worst for me.
7. What is your favorite curse word?    – I can’t say it here
8. What profession other than your own would you like to attempt?    -  Artist
9. What profession would you not like to do?    -  Accountant
10. If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates?  -”Welcome. Let me show you the Hall of Records.”

DC: Karen, thank you so much for spending the day chatting with us!

Welcome to another whacky day of Duck Chat!

And today is going to be whacky. We have romantic suspense author Christie Craig with us, and if you haven’t read any of Christie’s books, you have no idea what kind of whackiness you’re missing! If you love humor in your books, you will love Christie’s stories.

Christie just released her fourth book, Gotcha!, last month (see my review). Her non-fiction and photography have appeared in almost three thousand national magazines. She is married and lives in Texas with her husband and they have two children and one grandchild. (Check out this funny but poignant blog about her new granddaughter.) She blogs daily at Killer Fiction and helps out aspiring writers when she can.

Life is full of humor for Christie (even her bio on her website is fair game!) and she spreads that fun and laughter around quite liberally in her books which cause her fans to come back time and again. So read on to get know this terrific author better. And if you leave a meaningful comment, you’ll be in the running for several copies of Gotcha! from Christie and Dorchester. Now let’s chat!

DUCK CHAT: Well, as cliché as it is, we have to start with “the phone call,” especially because your call gave you the news you sold four books in that one day. You don’t hear that every often. What was that like as soon as you hung up? What was it like a week or two or more later?

CHRISTIE CRAIG: Oh, it was crazy. I had just won and finaled in a bunch of writing contests. And I had been targeting Dorchester, because I felt my humorous voice would fit there. I had three books on three different Dorchester editors’ desks all from different contests. And I had one manuscript submitted by my agent, Kim Lionetti, there. When one editor requested the completed manuscript, my agent started calling. I had another book at a small press submitted elsewhere as well. On that November day in 2006, I knew that Chris Keeslar had read one book, and then requested to see another. I also knew the small press was interested in my other book. But my insecurities told me that Chris was looking for a reason to reject my butt and the small press would not come through. I had been so close to selling before, only to learn it didn’t pass a committee, so my insecurities had validation. Ahh, but I was seriously hoping.

When Kim called she asked me. “Are you sitting down?”

My answer was, “No, but I’ve worked my butt off and I can take this news standing up. I sold a book, didn’t I?”

Her one-word answer, “No,” sent my heart nose diving to my bladder. But then she said, “You haven’t sold a book. You sold four.”

My reply was quick. “Just a second, I’ve got to sit down!” I had sold one to the small press and three to Dorchester. However, the small press went under and that book was returned to me.

The call happened early that day when I was still in my PJs. When my hubby came home that afternoon ready to take me out to celebrate BIG, he found me at my computer in a complete state of shock. He looked at me really strange and asked about us going out. I told him that of course we were going out. I freaking deserved to be taken out. Then he asked if I was planning on wearing my pajamas. I had sat and stared at my computer all day and completely forgotten to change my clothes.

DC: Did you actually have four books either partially written or at least in mind when the call came? If not, what in the hell did you do?? If so, were they the books you’ve written so far or something else?

CC: The first book I sold and published was actually a Silhouette Romance in 1994 (Two Hearts Too Late). When I hadn’t had any luck selling a second book, and my daughter started college and the University of Houston had the nerve to want to be paid to teach my little darling, I put the novels on the backburner and started writing full-time for the magazine market. Six years later, she graduated with two degrees, and I had over 3000 credits in freelance. But I had always felt like a one-book wonder. I wanted to write novels. So, when the University stopped reaching into our bank account, I started writing novels again and wrote part time for the magazine market. I wrote eight complete novels and six proposals during that time. The books that sold were all written. And my next three-book contract with Dorchester included another that was also completed, one that was partially completed and one that I had to start from scratch.

DC: If you could retire any question and never, ever have it asked again, what would it be? Feel free to answer it.

CC: Ohh, this is good question and a hard one. I think the question I would kick to the compost pile would be: So when are you going to write a real book?

The prejudices are generally against romance . . . about love. And I always just look at them and say, “So love isn’t real? Two people making a commitment for life isn’t important? So when the kindergartener feels her first butterflies over a boy, it isn’t real? When at twelve, she holds a boy’s sweaty hand in hers, the rush she feels really doesn’t exist? When she gets her first kiss at thirteen, the emotional high isn’t worth talking about? When she goes out on her first date and her heart is in flutters, it’s not important? Her first heartbreak is trivial? When she dreams of the boy asking her to the prom, it’s a stupid little thing, right? When she experiences her “first time”, it’s not a memory she will ever recall? When the boy she loves gets down on one knee and puts a ring on her finger, it’s frivolous? And when she walks down that aisle with her father to become a wife, the day isn’t important? When the man she loves, holds their little baby for the first time, it’s just a joke? When she makes 25 years with the man she loves, it’s not a big deal, right? When she stands beside a grave and watches the love of her life be lowered into the ground and she cries from the grief, it’s just a silly little thing that isn’t worthy of being written about? Passion, love, commitment, that’s what my books are about. Oh, heck yeah, they are funny, and I’m going to make you laugh, but laughing is good. And love is real, and it’s probably one of the most important parts of being human. I’m proud to write romance and it is a REAL BOOK!

DC: I’ve heard writers often say their stories take them in surprising directions, or dialogue flows from some unknown place. Is it the same with you? Do your characters surprise you sometimes?

CC: I never know where my characters are going to take me or what smartass remark they are going to make. Heck yeah, they surprise me and they embarrass me, too. I can’t believe they do some of the things they do. I really am a write-by-the-seat-of-your-pants writer.

DC: Now we have to talk about your hats. Do you have a closetful? Do you go out of the house without one? How many do you have (okay, rough estimate is fine!)? Do you have a favorite?

CC: I like my hats. I do. But unlike some of the rumors, I’m not a hat freak. I probably have 12 hats, and I have three favorites that I wear most of the time. I’m very picky about my hats because with me being so short if I get one too big, it makes me look like a mushroom. I wear hats at almost every writer-related event because it has become my trademark. But I really don’t wear them at home or for any other event, unless it’s a bad hair day and then it’s a baseball hat.

Hats became my trademark about a year before my first book came out in 1994, I was at a conference and I’d found a couple of hats I liked, so I wore them. When my Silhouette editor went looking for me, everyone said, “I think she’s the little blonde with the hat.”

My editor, who was a smart woman, told me then, “You need to always wear your hat when doing a writer’s conference, because people recognize you and remember you because of them” So . . . my trademark was born. Now if I go to even a writer’s meeting without my hat, I get hell from people who know me.

DC: Do you ever argue with your characters while you’re writing? Who usually wins?

CC: Argue with my fictional characters? Are you joking? They would kick my butt! Seriously, I argue with them all the time. Not that it does a bit of good, they always win. In a lot of ways, characters are like children. You give them life and then they take off and do what they want, and throw tantrums, talk back to you, and make their own life. That’s part of the thrill of being a writer.

DC: I’m willing to bet that a lot of your ideas in your books come from everyday life that either happens to you or you hear about. Am I close? Can you give us an example?

CC: Oh, yes, I’m afraid I come from long line of people who are constantly finding themselves in chaos. Crap just happens to me. Weddings Can Be Murder came from planning my daughter’s wedding and more specifically from the day we visited the Houston Bridal Extravaganza. Between getting wedding cake samples dropped on us, being burped on by a chocolate fountain, and trampled by hundreds of photographers, wedding planners, florists, and cake bakers, I knew I was going to have to kill someone. Lucky for me, I could do it in a book and stay out of prison. Hence, the whole plot of Weddings came into being.

DC: What is sure to distract you from sitting down and working/writing?

CC: Clive Owen walking into my study without his shirt on would probably be a big distraction. LOL. Seriously, probably the biggest distraction is some good “writing” news. Before I sold to Dorchester, I learned to write through rejection. It actually motivated me, because I would work harder and set out and prove the naysayers wrong. But when good news comes in, as in I sold another book, or I’ve gotten some great review, or one of my published books is up for some award, well, I just get so excited that I can’t write.

DC: I don’t think I’ve ever laughed so hard when reading as I do when I’m engrossed in one of your books. You have to be the jokester in your family, but what about your husband and kids? Are they the same or do they leave that part of life to you?

CC: I come from a long line of jokesters. Before I was born, my dad actually convinced my mom, who was a new driver at the time, that she needed to change the air in her tires. You should hear her tell the story of how she pulled up to a service station and told the attendant to change her air. When he said, “You mean, you want me to put some air in your tires?” my mom thinking he just didn’t want to do it, informed him in a serious voice, “No, I want you to take all the old air out and put new air in!” Seriously, my mom and dad are a big reason I write humor. If there is one lesson they taught me while growing up, it was: You gotta be able to laugh at yourself. Because when you can laugh at it, you can live with it. It’s a lesson I live by and all my characters are believers as well.

And while my hubby at one time was a very serious, sedate man, after falling prey to too many of my pranks, he has turned into a king joker. I’m short, and I recently complained that I couldn’t reach the pull strings of our new ceiling fans. Thinking it would be funny, he went out and bought pull strings that hung all the way to the floor. Then there’s the whole Geico story. You know the lizard on their commercial. Well, one day he saw two green lizards getting it on and he had me take a picture. Then he sent the picture and a blackmail letter to the Geico corporation saying he was going to show it to the lizard’s wife if they didn’t pay up. You can see that picture on my website under Musings and then by clicking on the box that says, “for anyone who enjoys a little voyeurism, click here.”

DC: How do you feel your male or female characters have evolved over your career? Do you think you write them differently now than you did when you started?

CC: Good question. My very first book with Silhouette was a sweet romance. I think as I got older, I grew into more of a . . . smartass. There is something about hitting the age forty that just allows a person to speak their mind. And unfortunately this speaking of one’s mind is passed on to my characters.

DC: Your latest book is Gotcha!, which released May 26th. Would you tell us where the idea for the story came from and then give our readers a little insight into Jake and Macy?

CC: I think Gotcha! and perhaps my whole desire to write humorous romantic suspense came from several of my brushes with the law, and especially the times when I was working at a pizza place just like my heroine does in the book. Don’t misunderstand, I’m not like a hardened criminal, but let’s just say I’ve had some humorous close calls. One of my stories, about the time I was caught in Pizza Hut with thousands of dollars strewn around me, by six armed and ready to shoot police officers, is posted at Dorchester’s site under the special feature link.  You will also find a contest posted there and learn how you can win a whole basket filled with Christie Craig books and goodies.

Macy is a smart-mouthed pizza delivery girl/law student who allows only two tissues for crying jags for fear she’ll end up being like her mom. Macy’s history with men reads a bit like a daytime talk show where words are bleeped out, noses are broken, and chairs are thrown. She compares dating to enjoying a day at the beach without sunscreen. It might be fun while you’re there, but inevitably you’re gonna get burned.

Jake is a fun-loving crass man, who doesn’t back down when he knows what he wants. And he wants Macy, but convincing her that they’re perfect for each other isn’t easy. However, watching him try, is a lot of fun.

Here’s that special treat, excerpt from Gotcha!:

Chapter One

“You lucky bastard.”

Sergeant Jake Baldwin looked up from his desk and found Mark Donaldson, the new detective in the department and his sometime partner, leaning his head inside the offi ce door.

“Why am I lucky?” Jake asked and shouldered back in his chair.

Donaldson’s chicken-shit grin widened. “She says she needs you, and only you will do.” He looked down the hall, then shot off as if someone chased him.

“Hey, who needs . . . ?” Jake’s question tripped over his lips as a blonde, a dead ringer for Marilyn Monroe in her chubbier years, sashayed into his office. She didn’t walk. She sashayed.

About a foot from his desk she stopped moving, but her body didn’t. Her breasts, squeezed into a low-cut red tank top, continued to bounce. Up. Down. Up. Behind her, two Houston police officers paused, their tongues dangling out like hounds’. Jake’s tongue remained in his mouth. He’d never been a Monroe fan.

His visitor leaned over to pull out a chair, and he got a peek at her cleavage— which led him to realize maybe you didn’t really have to be a true fan to appreciate a look-alike. He glanced away. Gawking was crude. Besides, he’d stopped letting women know they had the upper hand. They still had it, of course. He was, after all, flesh and blood, but he refrained from giving them the leverage that came with knowing. His ex-fiancée, now sister-in-law, had taught him better.

“What can I do for you?” he asked, but his male mind was already considering options. Then he gave her another once-over. She was twenty, maybe? At thirty-one, Jake refused to date anyone who might still believe in Santa.

Miss Monroe opened her mouth to speak, and Jake waited for her sweet husky voice to flow over him, sound effects to add to the fantasies that no doubt he’d have later on. His fantasies had no problems with a twenty-year-old. And lately, fantasies  were all he had.

“My name’s Ellie Chandler.” Her voice, some would call it cartoonish—a really bad cartoon—came out two octaves above chalk screeching across a blackboard. “You’re Jake Baldwin, riiiight?”

Jake jerked, knocking over his coffee mug. God help him. No, God help her, he thought, grabbing the cup and saving his files from the spill. No wonder the Almighty gave her that body. He’d been trying to make up for the voice.

She continued talking, and Jake would have done almost anything to shut her up. Anything but be rude. For the son of a Baptist preacher, rudeness wasn’t an option, even for a religious backslider like himself. He finger-locked his hands in front of him and forced his attention on her. Every spoken syllable was like bowel surgery.

“I’m here to report a murder.”

He sighed. “Then you need to talk to Hom icide. I work Robbery.” Please God, let it be that easy. God  wasn’t listening. “I want to talk to you.” “Why me?” he asked both the blonde and the Almighty. “Because you know what he’s like. You’re the one who put him away.” 

“Put who away?” 

“David Tanks. My ex-boyfriend.” 

Jake remembered Tanks. Too many tattoos. A dealer with a mean streak and a drug habit of his own.

“And because I love Billy now, David’s threatening to kill him. He’s even threatened Billy’s sister. He called her one dead bitch.”

Jake shook his head to clear her voice from his ears. “Tanks is still doing time, isn’t he?”

“Yes.” Ellie Chandler nodded vigorously, and her tank top strained to contain the jiggling. Up. Down. Jake had to force his eyes from lowering.

“So, the murder you want to report . . . It hasn’t happened? No one’s dead yet?” 

“He cut the man’s head off. I’d say that killed him.” Jake stiffened. 

“Whose head?” 

“I don’t know.”

“Where did this happen?” 

“I wasn’t there”—her hazel eyes rolled—“so how would I know?” 

Okay. She  wasn’t making a ton of sense, but he’d give it one more shot. “When did the murder happen?”

“Last year, I think. David got drunk and bragged about it. I want you to pin it on him and then get him moved in with the dangerous prisoners—away from the good ones.”

Good prisoners? Unlocking his fingers, Jake pressed his palms on his desk. Suddenly, the pieces of the blonde’s story began to fit together. “Where’s Billy?”

“In prison with David. But don’t murderers get moved away from people who accidentally rob a convenience store?” 

“Accidentally robbed a store?” Jake tried to keep the disrespect from his voice.

The blonde started chattering again, and Jake listened. His ear drums throbbed.  At last he reached for a yellow notebook and wrote down her contact info. Then he jotted, Tanks—threatened to kill Billy’s sister. Glancing right at her, and for the sake of politeness, he said, “Miss Chandler, I’m glad you came in.” Sons of Baptist preachers occasionally lied, but only when politeness was on the line.

She blinked, and something close to intelligence fl ashed in her green eyes. “You’re not going to do a thing, are you?”

Okay, he’d try one more time to reason with her. “Honestly, you need to talk to Homicide.” He then watched her storm out.

Though the view was nice, his gaze dropped back to his pad. Tanks—threatened to kill Billy’s sister. Sadly, if a cop jumped every time one inmate threatened to hurt another’s mother or sister, the  whole damn force would be too busy playing leapfrog to do its job.

“You’re his sister.”

“No!” Macy Tucker said, dropping her veggie burger onto her plate. She should have guessed something was up when her mother served a lunch entrée that didn’t include butchered livestock. Macy had been a vegetarian since she was sixteen. Twelve years later, her mother still felt it was a passing fad. Of course, her mom, clueless at times, also waited for Ma-cy’s dad to walk back in and yell, “I’m home. Get me a beer, would ya?” Never mind he’d been gone for fourteen years; she kept waiting. Not that Macy would want him back.

“Siblings are supposed to—”

“It’s not happening, Mom.”

Macy’s chest clutched when her mother’s blue eyes filled with tears. Not that Faye Moore’s crying would surprise anyone. In the last three years, she had taken her part-time job of hysterics and made it a full-fledged career. Hundreds of trees had fallen to make the facial tissues to dry her eyes. The doctor said it was menopause. Macy decided it was men. Macy sympathized, because she’d almost succumbed to the malady herself.

“He said he needed to see you.”

“I’m not his fix-it fairy anymore.” But Macy’s chest ached watching her mom dry her tears. Crying could be contagious.

“You’ve always been there for him.” Her mom snatched another Kleenex from a box on the counter and went to work with it.

“Maybe that’s where I went wrong. If he’d faced the consequences—” “It’s been months since you’ve seen him.” The used tissues got pocketed.

“I’ve been busy. Between work, school, and getting a divorce, my plate’s been a bit full.” And the thought of seeing her baby brother behind bars was horrifying.

“Just because you’re . . .” Sniffle.

Her mom glanced at the Kleenex box again. Macy glanced at the door. Two tissues  were her limit. Any more heartfelt sobs and she’d need her own box of tear catchers.

Faye continued, “Just because you’re mad at your husband, you  can’t take it out on your brother.”

“He’s my ex-husband, and I’m not mad at him.” What Macy felt went far beyond anger.

“Your brother thinks you’re embarrassed by him,” her mom suggested.

“Well, when Father Luis asked what Billy was doing, and I said, ‘Three to five in the pen,’ I  wasn’t exactly beaming with pride.”

“Oh, Mace. You  can’t be this way.”

“What way?” The self-control Macy maintained around her mother was starting to slip. She was tired of sugarcoating everything. It didn’t help. She had tried all sorts of ploys to curb her mother’s tears, biting her sharp tongue among them, but all had failed. And lately, Macy was tired of failure.

Her mom sighed. “He loves you.”

He should have thought about that before he borrowed my car to hold up a Stop & Go. And wrecking it didn’t help, either. “I love him, but I  can’t fix this.”

“He said he was sorry.” Emotion fi lled her mom’s face.

Anger at Billy’s selfish actions and their consequences shot through Macy like blue fire. She embraced it, because anger felt better than helplessness. But as her mom reached for a third tissue, Macy reached for her purse. No third tissue! “Gotta go. Thanks for lunch.” And with a quick kiss to a damp cheek, Macy fled her grandmother’s kitchen.

Her mother’s words chased her across the living room. “Mace! You weren’t raised to turn your back on the people you love.”

Macy kept walking. “It’s called tough love, Mom.” The front door was Macy’s target, and not-crying her immediate goal. Not turning into her mother? That was a lifelong challenge.

“All love is tough,” her mom snapped. Then: “Men.”

“Yup. We should all become lesbians,” Macy countered. And she never looked back as she hit the screen door with her open palm.

Tears did spring to her eyes, however. You  weren’t raised to turn your back on the people you love. The lump in her throat grew as she headed for her car. Macy hadn’t been raised that way, but it sure seemed all the men in her life had. First her father—no, first was Grandpa, then dear ol’ Dad. Next her husband, now Billy. Of all the stupid, idiotic things to do, the brother she loved more than good chocolate, the brother she’d sworn to protect, had gotten himself a prison sentence. How could Macy take care of him now? She  couldn’t, and she was tired of trying.

No, trying  wasn’t the issue. But trying and failing was breaking her heart. And she’d obviously failed Billy, failed to teach him right from wrong.

She’d almost made it to her green Saturn when she heard the distinct clearing of a throat. Blinking the watery weakness from her eyes, Macy turned to face the music.

The music was dressed in purple biking shorts and an orange T-shirt that read bite me. It was Macy’s grandma, who flipped the bird at the world’s view of a senior citizen. No rocking chairs, no matronly house dresses or quiet home life. At sixty-eight, she biked six miles a day, taught yoga and, as Macy had recently discovered, did a few other things, probably in yoga positions.

“Your mom has a point.” Nan stood beside her new ten-speed.

Macy quirked an eyebrow. “Her having a point is fi ne. It’s when she starts jabbing me with it that I get out of sorts.”

“He is your brother. Would it hurt to just see him?”

“Yes. It would hurt me.” The thought of seeing Billy behind bars brought back the lump in her throat. Didn’t everyone know it was easier to be mad? She  couldn’t start feeling sorry for him. That would hurt too damn much.

A sympathetic smile deepened the laugh lines in Nan’s face. “You’ll do the right thing. You always do.”

“I’m not going.” Macy suddenly remembered the package in her purse. She pulled out the plastic bag and said, “Here. And you can buy these yourself. They aren’t illegal.”

Nan’s smile vanished. “I . . .  It would be . . .  embarrassing.”

“Embarrassing?” Macy stalked to her car and opened the door. The smell of yesterday’s pepperoni wafted from the vehicle—one of the drawbacks of delivering pizza for a living. But going to law school full-time had left her with limited job choices. Never mind that her ex, Tom, was supposed to put her through college, just as she’d spent the first years of their marriage doing for him.

Nan looked at the bag. “You’re young. People know you’re doing it.”

“I haven’t done it in two years.” Giving up men meant giving up sex.

Nan smiled. “Mr. Jacobshas a nephew. . . .”

“And he’s welcome to keep him.” 

With one foot inside her car, Macy swung around and hugged her grandmother. “I love you,” she said. And she meant it, too. As much of a nutcase as her sexually active relative was, she’d been the glue of their family since Macy’s father walked out. She had cocooned them in her nutty life. It wasn’t Nan’s fault that the glue hadn’t been enough. What did keep families like hers together? Macy wondered. She’d let her marriage fall apart in less than five years. How sad. Heck, even her mother had stayed married to her dad for fourteen.

“I know you love me,” Nan said. “Just like you love Billy.”

Macy jumped behind the wheel of her Saturn, shut the door, and drove away. “I’m not going,” she muttered. “I’m not.”

She hated being proved wrong, but the next day Macy sat behind the wheel of her pizza-scented, fender-dented, convenience-store-robbing Saturn, driving toward the prison. Her mom’s “you don’t turn your back on people” speech and Nan’s “you’ll do the right thing” lecture had done her in. However, she’d postponed the trip until today because she didn’t know the proper attire to wear to a prison. Visions of all the men ogling her, running tin cups along the bars, had been daunting. Not that she was the type who warranted a tin cup. Men preferred bouncy blondes. Macy was brunet, and her size Bs didn’t bounce without the help of a bra that pushed up, pulled in, and captured jiggle mass—and she’d burned those bras the day she found her husband in bed with his blond, bouncy secretary—but prison inmates were desperate.

In the end, she had decided to wear her pizza uniform. How sexy could Papa’s Pizza’s polyester be? Plus, she had to hurry back to Houston, go to the library to do some research, and then go straight to slinging cheese pies. Then she had to study for exams. There was no time to cry tonight about the emotional havoc this visit was sure to bring. No. Not tonight. A vision of Billy behind bars popped into her mind. Dread pulled at her stomach.

Spotting the sign proudly announcing the prison, she pulled into the parking lot and mentally scheduled herself a pity party this weekend. But only two tissues. What was good for the mother goose was good for the . . .  goosette.

Oh Lord, she didn’t want to do this.

Do what, exactly? Why had Billy insisted she visit? All night, Macy’s fitful tossing had given her mattress springs a workout, and she’d half dreamed, half imagined her brother begging, Macy, you’ve gotta break me out of jail.

Her chest ached as she got out of her car. She stuffed her long, unruly hair up under her pizza cap and approached the desolate building that was to be her brother’s home for the next three years. He’d only gotten three to five, thanks to the fantastic lawyer she’d hired to defend him. That was one credit card that would be maxed for a while.

Like her mom, Macy had wanted to blame Billy’s downfall on his bad group of friends, on the fact that he had grown up without a father. But the pain of it all had forced her to pull her head out of that pile of kitty litter. Billy had done this to himself. He’d done it to their mom and to Nan. And, God help Macy for being angry, he’d done it to her, too.

Chin up, she entered the prison. No tin cups or bars. The impression she got was minimalism meets drab: all was linear, sterile. The only warmth in the place came from the old red- brick walls.

A guard snagged her purse and locked it away, another wanded her for weapons, then a serious-faced geezer led her into a gymnasium-type room to wait. After a few minutes of her finger-tapping the metal table, the door opened and inmates rushed through.

Tears sprang to her eyes as her brother approached. She knew it was too much, but Macy didn’t see Billy the nineteen-year-old. She saw the five-year-old kid with big blue eyes fringed in black lashes, the kid who’d sneaked into her bedroom at night with his teddy bear because he was afraid of trolls under the bed. He looked scared now. All her anger vanished in a big puff of smoke. And without the anger, the anguish of knowing she’d failed him ripped at her heart.

“Hey, sis.” His voice shook as he lowered himself into the chair across from her. Once settled, he touched her hand, carefully, almost as if he feared she’d pull away.

Didn’t he know she loved him with every ounce of her heart? Didn’t he know the reason she hadn’t come until now was because this was going to kill her, and perhaps the only way to teach him to deal with the messes he created was to leave him on his own? Tough love wasn’t easy. Not for the giver or the receiver. She felt a few tears trickle down her cheeks. This visit might take three tissues.

“Hey back at you.” The ache in her throat doubled as she turned her palm over and threaded her fi ngers through his.

“You look good. Mom said you fi nally got your divorce.”

“Yeah. And I sure showed him. I got custody of most of his bills.” Swallowing, she fought for control. Billy probably got all the tears he needed from their mom. 

“How are you?”

“I’m . . . making it.” He gave the room a glance then met her eyes. “I know you’re mad,” he whispered. “You deserve to be mad. But I . . .  There’s trouble.”

Macy braced herself for the  whole break- out-of-prison re quest. This visit would defi nitely require three tissues. Billy leaned in. “I need your help.” 

“What kind of help?” she whispered back. 

“There’s this man. He’s real bad.” Billy’s big blue eyes grew wide. “He cut this guy’s head off. Now he wants to kill me and—” 

“Why?” Macy gasped. “Why does he want to kill you?” 

“Well, I sort of stole his girl.” Macy’s mouth fell open. 

“You did what?” 

“Her letter to him got caught inside my magazine in the mail room. I thought it was to me . . . from you, Nan, or Mom.” He glanced away. “It  wasn’t to me, but . . . She wrote this poem about her grandma, and it was so beautiful. I wrote her and told her I’d accidentally opened her mail, and I told her how beautiful her poem was. I never dreamed that she would write me back. But she did, and . . .  we fell in love.”

“You stole a murderer’s girl?” she asked. “Couldn’t you have, I don’t know, gone after a deadbeat dad’s? Or someone less violent, like a white-collar criminal?”

Billy’s forehead wrinkled. “I’m serious.”

“I’m not? What the hell  were you thinking? You don’t steal a murderer’s girlfriend. Didn’t they teach you anything in school?”

“I didn’t know he was a murderer.”

“Wait!” Macy held up her hands. “I don’t need to know this. Because I  can’t fix it. I mean, if you think this guy who just happens to cut people’s heads off will listen to me, why, I’ll be happy to read him the riot act, but something tells me—”

“I don’t want you near that freak. I want you to talk to Ellie.”

“Ellie?”

“My girlfriend.” Billy bit down on his lip.

Macy blinked. “The same girl who dated the murderer?” When Billy nodded, Macy dropped her head on the table. Her pizza delivery hat flipped off and her hair scattered. The cold metal on her forehead was bracing, but everything else felt surreal. Damn, if it still didn’t hurt, though. It might take four tissues..

Billy rested his hand on her shoulder. “Between the two of you, maybe y’all can fix things.”

Macy raised her head. “Fix what?”

“Maybe you could talk to the cops. Anyone but Jake Baldwin—don’t go to him. Maybe they’d listen to you. Ellie’s not like you. She’s too pretty. Men don’t listen to her.”

Macy was suddenly a frog’s hair away from committing her own murder. “But they’ll listen to homely-looking girls like me, huh?”

“I didn’t mean that. It’s just she’s blond and—”

“Big boobed?” It would be justifiable hom i cide.

“Yeah.” Her brother smiled, then frowned when he looked at her. “What I mean is, men don’t think she’s smart.”

“Of course she’s, like, megaintelligent, right? That’s why she was dating a man who chops people’s heads off.” Macy knew she was being catty, but how much could a girl take?

“It’s not like that. She just got mixed up with him because of her stupid brother.”

Because of her stupid brother, huh? Well, that was an excuse she could understand. Macy dropped her head back on the table. She even gave it a good thump.

“She’s not stupid. Okay, she’s not smart like you. . . .” Her brother nudged Macy up. “I know you’ll think I love her because she’s pretty, but I didn’t know what she looked like. I fell in love with her in her letters. We wrote every day—still does—and she comes to see me four times a week.”

Only the fear in Billy’s eyes kept Macy from grabbing her pizza hat and getting her homely butt home. Or was it the memory of the one time Billy hadn’t been afraid? Four years old, teddy bear in his arms, he’d stood up for her, stood up for her when no one  else had been there. You’re not hurting my sister. Macy could still hear his little-boy voice saying those words. She could still hear the sound of her father’s fist knocking Billy across the room.

Another tear rolled down her cheek. “You need to talk to someone  here. If they know—”

“They won’t do crap,” Billy interrupted. “Even the guards are afraid of him. And some of them . . . he does things for them. He’s got people on the outside, too. He’s the head of some big gang. I heard he has some cops doing things for him. Ellie even thinks that cop, that Baldwin guy who arrested him, is in his pocket now. He wouldn’t even listen when she tried to tell him about the murder.”

“Talk to someone above the guards,” Macy suggested. What was she supposed to do?

“Please, Mace. Her name’s Ellie Chandler. She lives a couple of miles from you. I gave her your number. Promise you’ll see her. I’m scared for her. But it’s not just her. Look, the main reason I needed to see you is . . .  I’m scared for you, too.”

“For me?” Macy’s blood ran cold.

“I wrote you a letter, addressed and everything. I wrote to tell you how sorry I was about your car and all.” Guilt shadowed Billy’s eyes. “But it came up missing before I could mail it. The next day, Tanks told me he knew where my family lives. He’s got people on the outside and . . .  he’s got your address. You need to get with Ellie. She’ll explain.” He placed a scrap of paper in Macy’s hand. “This is Ellie’s information. Promise me you’ll call her, Mace. Promise me.”

The bell announcing that the visitation was over rang. Macy didn’t make Billy any promises, but she took the paper he’d pushed into her hand.

After his sister left, Billy waited in his cell for a guard to collect him for work duty. If anyone would have told him he’d someday be excited to weed petunias, he’d have called them a friggin’ liar. But it was true. He loved the chance to get out from behind the prison walls. It was a tiny taste of freedom.

“You going on garden duty?” his cellmate Pablo asked, sitting in the room’s one chair, his face hidden behind a book.

“Yeah.” Billy dropped down onto his bed. Some days, he thought he’d go nuts being in here. Then he would remember that he deserved it.

“Your sister come to see ya?” Pablo lowered his book.

Billy only nodded, not wanting to get into a conversation.

How many times had Mace told him he was going to get himself into trouble if he didn’t start thinking about his actions? He’d let her down, and she didn’t deserve it. That’s why he’d decided to turn his life around. He hadn’t told her about the college classes; he wanted to surprise her when he got out. He wanted to show her, his mom, and Nan that he was better than his ol’ man. And he would.

“I heard she was really pretty,” Pablo said.

“Drop it.” Billy closed his eyes.

What really hurt was Mace being disappointed in him. Again. But Billy refused to see Ellie as another of his mistakes. She was too sweet, too good-natured, and yeah, too pretty to be a mistake. Sure, he regretted getting Mace mixed up in this, but he hadn’t meant to do that.

Someone down the hall coughed, and it echoed along the gray concrete walls. Billy hated the echoes in here. God, he prayed Mace would do like he’d said and talk to Ellie. His girl might not be intelligent like Mace, but she had street smarts. And if Tanks went after his sister, Ellie would know better how to protect her.

Billy heard footsteps and remembered garden duty. Eager to leave the cramped room, he jumped up. He could almost smell the outside air.

“You ready?” Hal, one of the day guards, asked. The cell door clicked open.

“Yeah,” Billy said.

Of all the guards, Hal was the only one Billy liked. In his fifties, Hal reminded him of what a father should be. Once Hal had even shown him pictures of his grandkids. Billy wondered if the man’s family appreciated him, or if they took him for granted the way Billy had done with Mace. No more, though. Somehow he was going to make his sister proud.

Hal’s gaze shot to the stack of books. “School going okay?” he asked.

“Fine,” Billy grunted.

He and Hal made their way down the prison halls, their footsteps echoing. The thrill of leaving for a few hours stayed with Billy until he crawled into the van and saw a tattooed forearm resting on the back of a seat. David Tanks glanced at him over a shoulder. The man’s sneer had 24-karat evil stamped all over it.

“Heard your sis came by today,” the murderer whispered. “Heard she’s hot. I  can’t wait to get me some of that. I’m going to fuck her hard, Billy boy—right before I slit her throat.”

DC: Is there a genre you haven’t tackled but would like to try?

CC: Young Adult. Stay tuned !

DC: What advice would you give to your younger self?

CC: Pay attention in English class. Believe it or not, you will wish you knew about commas and dangling participles later on. And you know that guy you fell for when you were sixteen? Don’t!

DC: And because I’m curious, where did the idea for the Divorced & Desperate (DD&D) series come from?

CC: From the guy I shouldn’t have fallen for when I was sixteen. Oh, and then from my hubby, the guy who convinced me to give love another try. Seriously, after living through a bad marriage and a divorce, I pretty much felt like my heroines: Men were history! It was my present hubby, who much like a hero, fell in love with me and my daughter and then convinced me that love was worth another shot. Yup, I know the feeling of heartbreak–it’s like to have your heart ripped out of your chest and handed to a small dog with sharp teeth to use as a chew toy. But thanks to my hubby, I know what it’s like to find someone who you respect, admire and desire. We will be married 25 years, and while he’s not perfect, he’s still a keeper.

DC: May we get a little sneak peek into the last DD&D book coming up?

CC: Here’s my back cover blurb for Divorced, Desperate & Deceived. It was a really fun book to write. You’ll not only get to peek back at the lives of Lacy and Chase and Sue and Jason, but you meet a bad guy tuned good guy that helps saves the day. [Ed. You're all one of the first to see the new cover for DD&Deceived!]

“Christie Craig will crack you up!”
—New York Times Bestselling Author Kerrelyn Sparks

Of the Divorced, Desperate and Delicious club, Kathy Callahan is the last surviving member. Oh, her two friends haven’t died or anything. They just gave up their vows of chastity. They went for hot sex with hot cops and happy second marriages—something Kathy can never consider, given her past. Yet there’s always her plumber, Stan Bradley. He seems honest, hardworking…and pretty handy with a tool.

PLUMB CRAZY

Kathy’s best-laid plans are about to hit a clog. The guy snaking her drain is handier with a pistol than a pipe wrench, and she’s about to see more action than Arnold Schwarzenegger. The next two-days promise pursuit, passion and some very unhappy hit men. And at the end of this wild escapade, Kathy and her own undercover lawman will be flush with happiness . . . assuming they both survive.

DC: If you had never become an author, what do you think you would be doing right now?

CC: A stand up comic. I love making people laugh. I think laughter is a big key to happiness.

DC: My favorite book of yours is Weddings Can Be Murder. I absolutely loved Carl. Is his character modeled after anyone you know? How did that storyline come about?

CC: All my heroes are modeled after bits and pieces of my hubby, my dad, and my son. Though all my heroes have better abs! (Shh, don’t tell anyone I said that!) Seriously, all my heroes are macho on the outside but have soft hearts. They all suffer from a touch of crassness and they could all use a few lessons in manners. When my hubby reads my books and he always reads them when I get my galleys, I can’t tell you how many times he says something like, “Hey, I actually said that. You stole my line.” I just shrug and tell him, “Well, you should be careful what you say from now on.”

DC: What else is on the horizon for Christie Craig?

CC: Hopefully, a lot more books. Writing really is a passion for me. I’ve heard it said that true happiness is doing what you love and getting paid to do it. I believe that. Don’t get me wrong, deadlines can still bite, and there are days I would rather go to lunch with a few friends then finish a chapter right then, but I couldn’t stop writing. And I would write my stories even I didn’t get paid to do it. Don’t tell my publishers that. Writing is part of me, every story is a journey and a adventure that teaches me a little bit more about who I man and about being human.

Lightning Round:

- dark or milk chocolate?    -  When it comes to chocolate, I’m not prejudiced.
- smooth or chunky peanut butter?    – Chunky.
- heels or flats?    – Barefoot mostly. Okay, I like a little heel. But more than two inches and I’ll fall on my face.
- coffee or tea?    – Coffee.
- summer or winter?     – Spring!
- mountains or beach?    – I like both, but the beach is where I go to refill my soul.
- mustard or mayonnaise?     – Mayonnaise.
- flowers or candy?     – Please, can’t a girl have both!
- pockets or purse?    – Purse.
- Pepsi or Coke? Coke.    – But don’t tell anyone. I own stock in Pepsi.
- ebook or print?    – I’m a print girl, mostly. I work so much on the computer and staring at screens that I like turning pages.

And because we like having some extra fun:

1. What is your favorite word?   – Quirky
2. What is your least favorite word?    – No.
3. What turns you on creatively, spiritually or emotionally?    -  The word no. I get in this I’ll-show-you mode. Also turns ons: The beach. Time to ponder, and my hubby when he’s being extra sweet.
4. What turns you off creatively, spiritually or emotionally?   – People who think they are better than someone else.
5. What sound or noise do you love?   – A baby laughing.
6. What sound or noise do you hate?    – Angry words between two people who love each other.
7. What is your favorite curse word?    – Piss and shit. My daddy said them when I was young and they sort of stuck.
8. What profession other than your own would you like to attempt?    -  A cover girl/runway model. Who wouldn’t want to give being tall and gorgeous a shot?
9. What profession would you not like to do?    – A politician. Hey, I want my skeletons to stay in the closet until I choose to bring them out and write about them.
10. If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates?   – ” I laughed my ass off at your books. Would you mind autographing them for me?”

DC: Christie, thank you so much for a hilariously wonderful time today!

First, I want to thank Jennifer Ashley for taking the time to Duck Chat with us. She gave us a terrific week here at the Pond.

And, of course, a huge thanks to those of you who dropped by to comment and ask questions.   Now are you finally ready for what you’ve all been waiting around for all this time??

Cue the fanfare, please!

Here are our four ARC winners of Jennifer’s The Madness of Lord Ian Mackenzie as picked out of the proverbial bowl by Jennifer’s hubby:

Stephanie

Adwa

Margay

Deb

Congratulations, ladies!  Please send your snail mail address to me at Lighthousetagger@gmail.com. Your books will be mailed to you by Dorchester Publishing as soon as I pass on your info!

C2’s review of Vexing the Viscount by Emily Bryan
Historical romance released by Leisure 24 Feb 09

This review is going to be a bit different, gentle readers. I’ve had this book for the longest time and kept getting distracted. Real Life sometimes interrupts my reading schedule, don’t you know. Anyway, I try to keep notes when I’m reading a book for review, so I can keep things straight in my head when it’s time to do the write-up.

When I actually sat down to do start my review, my notes amused me so much I thought I’d post them rather than doing a more formal review. So, yes, you’re about to get a glimpse into my brain – a very scary place, some might say.   Here we go:

Georgian setting – unusual nowadays.

First meeting over an antique oil lamp shaped like a penis.

Tassels=phallic symbol? I had no idea.

Childhood Iggy has turned into reclusive rake and wastrel Lucian.

Would she have really been on the shelf at 21, I wonder?

An outspoken young lady – gentlemen don’t like that, you know.

A reader of naughty books…shame on her.

Egad, a group of sisters with flower names.

A lost Roman treasure.

A masquerade ball and a courtesan costume.

Yikes – intimate waxing!

Yikes again – he’s a virgin!

Oh, I forgot he’s young too – mid-20s. Still – VIRGIN!! 

She (the in-disguise her) agrees to give him a kissing lesson if he shows her some of his antiquities.

Subplot involves the second Jacobite uprising. Why??

His father hates her family so she uses a fake name while working with him.

Whoa! Flashback to Romans in England. Unexpected.

Flashback has 30 year-old male virgin!

Kissing lessons between her (in disguise) and him. That lead to strip poker (not really poker, of course).

Holy anachronisms! Chocolate candies in the Georgian era?! I don’t think so.

“She cupped his bag”?!?! Oh no she didn’t…OMG  

He gets cranky when he doesn’t get all the goodies the first time they make out. Typical. 

Flashback with naked moonlight dancing. Wheee!

Back with our couple. Ooh, he briefly sees a resemblance.

A convenient antiquities expert appears.

The father is prone to destructive, drunken rages. Lucian suspects he’s on the brink of madness.

Lucian’s suspicions deepen that Blanche and Daisy are the same person.

A second lesson in love is arranged. And a blindfold comes into play, an ankle is sprained and a realization is made.

Dark flashback. Necessary?? I’m thinking no.

A conspiracy is afoot. Just call me Holmes…Sherlock Holmes. Jeez.

Clues are uncovered.

The aunt is a beard for her hubby. Carry-over from an earlier book, I’m guessing.

The plotting Jacobites want the Roman treasure to fund their cause and try to hook Lucian’s father into helping them. *sigh*

The aunt’s husband overhears the plotters and refuses to let Daisy see Lucian.

Another masked ball is just the ticket, then, isn’t it? But this time he recognizes her and says so.

A painting on a ceiling gives them another clue. How did they spot the painting? Hmm, I wonder.

Why won’t he tell her about the Jacobite plot? Oh yeah, because it’s silly.

And because he didn’t tell her, she steps right into problems. Of course.

And when he finds out, he is angry. Of course. But he doesn’t tell her of the connection to his father so she thinks he is excluding her. *sigh*

They go in search of the treasure…with the bad guys lurking behind them.

In the meantime, her uncle from Cornwall arrives. Her family figures out Daisy isn’t where she’s supposed to be.

While the family looks for Daisy, she and Lucian look for the treasure. On a haunted island! Woooo-oooooo-oooo. *eerie wailing sounds*

Gratuitous tavern brawl/sword fight. But, it provided a way to get him into her room and for nature to take its course. After he finally tells her the truth about the Jacobites and his father.

On the island they untangle the poem. But they’re being watched.

Finally, they find the treasure…but it isn’t what they expected. And their enemies get their comeuppance.

And that’s not all – Lucian gets a new title for helping dispatch the traitors.

My final thoughts on Vexing the Viscount are that it is a light (mostly) read and a nice change of pace for those who might be tiring of the Regency era. While it wasn’t a perfect book, it was entertaining. The main characters were engaging and amusing and the plot involving the treasure was interesting enough to stand on its own.

Grade: C+

Summary:

Daisy Drake is leading a double life! By day, she’s Lucian Beaumont’s unwanted assistant and by night, she masquerades as the masked courtesan, Blanche La Tour, a Frenchwoman who agreed to give Lucian lessons in sensual love!

There’s only one problem. Daisy speaks fluent French and can read ancient Latin without moving her lips, but she doesn’t know the first thing about the pleasures of the flesh!

Good thing she has the real Blanch La Tour’s very explicit memoirs for guidance.

Lucian Beaumont, Viscount Rutland, longs to see his family’s standing returned to its glory days, before his father lost their fortune. And he thinks he can manage it, if he can only discover the hiding place of an ancient Roman payroll.

Daisy never forgot her girlhood fascination with Lucian, even though his father has a score to settle with her uncle. Now that they’re all grown up, she’s determined to help the viscount find his Roman treasure.

Whether he wants her help or not!

Read an excerpt HERE.

Other related books:

Welcome back to Duck Chat!

Today we’re talking to Bonnie Vanak, who is a very busy lady. As I put the finishing touches on her interview, she’s on her way to Haiti. Wow, what a way to spend a week!  Right?  That’s what I thought too. But it’s definitely not so.  Read on and you’ll find out why writing romance is a balm to her soul.

Bonnie lives with her family in sunny Florida. Well, at least it’s sunny when the hurricanes decide to hurtle in a different direction anyway. She has a journalism degree and worked as s journalist for a few years before she began writing for a large international charity.  After traveling to Nicaragua, Haiti and other poor countries, it was writing romance that helps her recover after encountering such horrific suffering.

Her first book was the beginning of her Egyptian novels, The Falcon and the Dove in 2001, followed by The Tiger and the Tomb in 2003, The Cobra and the Concubine in 2005, The Panther and the Pyramid in 2006, The Sword and the Sheath in 2007, and The Scorpion and the Seducer in 2008, and in April 2009 will be The Lady and the Libertine.  She’s also written several Silhouette Nocturnes that feature her Draicon shape-shifting wolves, The Empath, Enemy Lover, and Broken Souls, a Nocturne Bite, in the Midnight Cravings anthology. When in the world did she have time to sit down to talk with us?  Thank goodness she found a few spare minutes.

Bonnie will be in and out of the Pond today, so if you have questions or comments, let her know.  Now let’s chat!

Duck Chat:  You’re so busy writing both your Egyptian historicals for Dorchester and your werewolf books for Silhouette Nocturne! Do you have a set schedule you adhere to for writing each genre or do you just write one book until it’s done before going on to the next? Or something else?

Bonnie Vanak:  I usually have a schedule because I must space apart my deadlines due to the day job. But sometimes I’ll have something unexpected (a nice surprise!) to write, like with Unwrapped, the novella for Holiday with a Vampire III.

DC:  If you could retire any question and never, ever have it asked again, what would it be? Feel free to answer it.

BV:  Why do you write porn for women?

Honestly, someone asked that recently. I do get tired of the whole “romance is trash” attitude, always from those who never read romance or my books. I’ll share a story about this. A few years ago, I was in Haiti for the day job. After we finished work, I was in the hotel lobby reading Pamela Clare’s Ride the Fire while waiting for my co-workers so we could go to dinner. Great book. I’m chilling.

And along comes the newbie, the newest member of my department. We start talking, and he discovers that I write romance novels. The newbie looks at me and says, “Oh, those books are read by desperate women.”

The other co-worker joins us. This guy, who thinks it’s great that I write romance, tosses out some impressive stats about the industry that he heard on NPR, such as how Nora Roberts outsells the leading MALE fiction writer. Then I launch into the reason why I write the books. To balance my life after seeing the hunger and suffering in places like Haiti, because my romance novels always have happy endings.

The newbie wants to know if I write sex scenes. I tell him yes. Then he gets this goofy look and says, “Oh, and you use words like thrust. Romance novels are like PENTHOUSE.”

I ignore that and give an impressive little talk, woven in with stats about what percentage of American women buy romance novels, what kind of market share in publishing romance garners… how the books are character driven and the books are love stories about relationships, etc, etc.

When I finish, he says, “So it’s all about the thrust.” He pumps his fist forward. Some days, I just regret wasting my breath.

DC:  Your seventh historical is The Lady and the Libertine which is due out in April. Would you tell us a little about it?

In this book, a displaced English earl seduces a virginal beauty in order to steal the pharaoh’s treasure she guards in Egypt. I pitted Nigel, a thief, liar, and libertine, who was cheated out of his birthright as earl, against Anne/Karida, who has sworn to be upright and moral. Karida was born in England and taken to live with my Khamsin warriors of the wind in Egypt. They entrusted her with a ruby that unlocks the key to a fabulous treasure buried in the sands.

Nigel was fascinating to write and may be one of my favorite heroes because he’s so complex. He does the wrong things for the right reasons. He’s very naughty, and just when you think he’ll change, he turns around and does something wicked again.

I loosely based the pharaoh’s treasure tomb on the Valley of the Golden Mummies in the Bahariya Oasis, four tombs of about 105 mummies excavated by Dr. Zahi Hawass.

DC:  I’ve heard writers often say their stories take them in surprising directions, or dialogue flows from some unknown place. Is it the same with you? Do your characters surprise you sometimes?

BV:  Definitely. A good example of that are the gremlins in Unwrapped. They literally popped out of nowhere. I had this image of little grinning, green guys dressed like Santa singing off-key Christmas carols and waking up Adrian, the vampire hero. I set them loose in the story, and they provided good comic relief to the darkness. One of my favorite scenes with them is where the gremlins are using the heroine’s bra to launch coconuts at a dummy for “target practice.”

DC:  Do you ever argue with your characters while you’re writing?

BV:  Yes, but they usually win.

DC:  You’ve got several of your Draicon werewolf stories coming out over the next year. Broken Souls is a Nocturne Bite being also being released in April. Please tell us about that and then what’s in store for us next year in the series.

Broken Souls is a Bite that will be released in the anthology Midnight Cravings in April. It features Baylor and Katia from The Empath. Here’s the synopsis:

She was forbidden by the Draicon to cast the blood-to-blood spell. But Katia was determined to find her father, and the spell was her only option. The Draicon had taken her into their pack when her own family had been destroyed by the Morphs. But Katia had never given up hope that her father was still alive, and refused to mate for life with her beloved Baylor until she found him. Now Baylor had given her an ultimatum, and Katia was forced to take drastic measures.
But when Katia’s spell summoned a Morph claiming to be her father, nothing Baylor said could convince her of the danger. Baylor knew too well the cost of trusting a loved one who’d turned, and desperately wanted to save Katia the pain he’d lived with for so long. He also knew that if he spared the Morph, it would destroy Katia, but if he killed this evil being, he risked losing her love forever.

Immortal Wolf is Raphael’s story. The Draicon’s executioner is sent to ritually sacrifice Emily, a female Draicon who can kill with a single touch, but discovers she is his destined mate. That Nocturne is out this October.

Unwrapped will be a story in Holiday with a Vampire III this December and features a vampire who’s given a doll by gremlin carolers as a gift, a doll that shifts into a female Draicon he secretly loves.

And next up is another Bite, Gabriel’s story, which I’m temporarily calling The Shadow Wolf and which I still have to write!

DC:  What is sure to distract you from sitting down and working/writing?

BV:  The day job, lol. I work as a writer for a large international charity, travel to impoverished countries like Haiti to get stories of poor people who need help, and then write fund-raising appeals to help them. [Ed. Bonnie just returned from Haiti and has posted her thoughs and some pics at her blog.  Do check it out.]

DC:  How do you feel your male or female characters have evolved over your career? Do you think you write them differently now than you did when you started?

BV:  I have noticed my writing has gotten considerably darker, more intense and emotional. That’s why I love writing the Nocturnes, which are dark paranormals. Raphael in Immortal Wolf is very dark, immortal, and the Draicon’s executioner. I also wanted him to be sexy, like a dark angel, so he’s a Harley-riding Cajun who has an earring and long hair. And he’s a lethal fighter as well.

With the Dorchester historicals, I’ve relished the freedom I had to experiment. That’s a huge asset to a writer’s creativity. My editor always let me write what I wanted, so I could have a hero who was sexually abused as a child (Graham in The Panther & the Pyramid) or a dark-skinned heroine who was subjected to racial bigotry (Jasmine in The Scorpion and the Seducer) or even an English earl who is a thief, liar, and seducer who has a ménage à trois in the fourth chapter (Nigel in The Lady and the Libertine).

DC:  Is there a genre you haven’t tackled but would like to try?

BV:  I always try to put a little mystery, and a twist, in my stories, and I’d like to try writing RS.

DC:  Is there a current work in progress you can give us sneak peek on?

BV:  Actually, I just got off deadline and I’m taking a very short break, but I can give you a glimpse of Immortal Wolf, Raphael’s story, which will be out this fall. Raphael is the Kallan, the only Draicon who can take life away without consequence. He is the Destroyer, who not only swiftly delivers a merciful death with his sacred Scian, his gold sword, but prepares the soul for the journey to the Other Realm. Emily, his “transition,” is believed to kill everyone she touches with her bare hands. Raphael is to ritually sacrifice Emily to prevent the spread of her curse to the entire Draicon race.

Excerpt from Immortal Wolf:

He was the Destroyer, the bringer of death.
Minutes later, he parked the bike in front of the Full Moon bar. Music poured down the street in an acoustic tidal wave; soft, cool jazz and hard, pounding rock. A few women lounging on the sidewalk and sipping hurricanes gave him the twice over. Wind teased the pure white streak of hair at his temple, played with the gold dagger earring dangling from his left ear.
A collective female sigh, soft as a Mississippi River breeze, drifted toward him. He angled his famous half smile at the staring threesome. “Evening ladies,” he drawled.
Three in one night. Nothing new. Hard, fast female company, the bliss of quick, anonymous sex and the energy it brought pushed back the loneliness a little. The tallest had a lush figure, with enough flesh on all the right places he loved to caress. He adored females. Even human women who were too frail to absorb the rough sex Draicon males sometimes relished.
But sex with anonymous strangers never touched the empty space inside him. Raphael gave the women a charming smile and walked away. Behind him, their murmurs of disappointment buzzed like mosquitoes in the bayou.
He headed toward the scratched wood bar and a last mug of beer before his ritual purification necessary to committing trasna. Male and female Draicon nursing drinks stared. “That’s him,” he heard one female whisper. “The Kallan. They say he was appointed because he killed 80 Morphs in one day when they were about to slay a pack in California.”
Sometimes the story boasted over 100 Morphs, and the pack of Draicon were from New England. It mattered not, for the legend shadowing him was far bigger than reality.
Too often he felt as if he were dancing atop a paper pedestal erected by his people. When would he fall off because his blood wasn’t pure enough? Only his family treated him normally.
He snorted. Normal? He was immortal. Normal wasn’t part of the package.
He had never dispatched a female before. Raphael hoped he’d have the strength and emotional detachment to execute the cursed Draicon. It could be worse, he thought grimly. She could be someone I know, even love.
Two of his brothers shouted a hearty hello. He was crossing the distance between them when a voice spoke in his head.
“Amant? Are you there?”
The whisper made him halt. It was her, the one he revered above all others. Raphael held up a hand in greeting to his brothers. He retreated to a solitary table.
“Erin. I’m here.” He reassured her.
Her voice sounded shaky, as if she tried disguising her fear. But something deeply worried her.
“I thought I’d lost you. You haven’t spoken to me since yesterday.”
“Hush, little one,” he soothed. “I’m right here, as I have been. What troubles you, chere?”
“I just missed you, that’s all.”
“I missed you too,” he admitted, pulling out a chair and propping one booted foot upon it.
One month ago, he had been preparing crayfish for the family barbecue when he’d heard her telepathically. His draicara, his destined mate, seeking him out. Raphael had gone still at the sweet purity of her voice, the low melodic tones. He felt bathed in serenity and yet sharpened by sexual need.
It was the most erotic thing he’d ever experienced, and yet she’d spoken but one sentence.
Since then, they’d talked nearly each day. He wisely did not press her, and allowed her to seek him out. He’d given her the nickname bestowed on him by his brothers. Amant, the French word for lover. He didn’t want to frighten her or have her overcome with awe at the legendary Raphael, the most feared and respected Draicon.
“Where are you now? What are you doing?” Erin asked.
“In a bar. Talking to you.”
“Oh. There must be many pretty women there.”
He heard the uncertainty and sadness. Raphael spotted his older brother Gabriel flirting with a blonde woman in a low cut dress. “No, just a few big, hairy males.”
“Hairy males. And it’s not even a full moon.”
Her dry joke made him laugh aloud. He leaned forward, placing both feet on the floor. “What’s wrong, Erin? You sound sad. Are you alone?”
A tiny sigh went through him like an arrow. “Where I am, I am always alone.”
Where was her pack? Her alpha?
“I must go. It isn’t safe here. I have to go to someplace safe.”
He picked up her anxiety, like little hairs brushing against the nape of his neck. Raphael frowned, wishing he could see her. “Your people, are they near? Do you feel threatened?”
“It’s just some males from my pack walking nearby. I can’t let them see me.”
His hackles rose at the suggestion of someone daring to touch his draicara. Automatically, he flexed his muscles, his protective instincts rising. “If they try anything with you, they will pay.”
“Don’t worry. They won’t come near me.”
“They’d better not. You’re mine and mine alone.” He couldn’t help rumbling.
She gave a light laugh, as sweet and airy as a songbird. “I can take care of myself. Trust me. I have for a while now.”
“It’s my job to take care of you.”
Her voice deepened. “You’re so good to me, even if you aren’t here. I cherish our times together these past weeks. When can I see you?”
Raphael blocked away thoughts of the task awaiting him. “Soon. I have an assignment, then I will come to you.”
“Promise?” Despair punctuated her voice. Troubled, he sent her waves of reassurance, soothing images of forest and glen, the deep quiet of the green woods. He felt her tension ease.
“How I wish you could kiss me now. Kiss me and tell me all is well.”
Her admission sent waves of erotic heat through him. He would kiss her, inch by sweet inch. His body tightened with need. He wondered what she looked like and wished she would allow him to see her reflection in a mirror.
“I am eager for us to meet. I can’t wait to touch you,” he admitted in a husky, sensual whisper.
“No!”
Her distress screamed in his mind. Raphael frowned and speculated. Even if she were a virgin and scared of her first time, such fear wasn’t normal.
“Has someone hurt you?” He didn’t mean to make his voice so sharp, and softened his tone. “Tell me, so I may help you, chere.”
“I will be fine.” Her wistfulness gave his heart a twist.
“Let me help you. I’m your dracairon. It’s my duty to care for you, and see to all your needs, be they large or small.”
“You sound as if I’m an invalid who needs assistance getting out of bed.” came the tart reply.
Raphael gave a small, amused laugh. It might come to that. He blocked the thought from her of the sexy image of Erin lying languid and flushed in bed, dazed by the pleasure he’d given her. “Of course not. But I am your mate, and it grieves me to know you are in such distress. Tell me what you need.”
“You.” She went silent a few heartbeats and added, “Do you want me?”
Her deep, sultry voice sent lust spiraling through him. Raphael gripped the chair’s armrests. Want her? “You have no idea how badly I want you.” Mentally he sent her an image of an enormous bed, two bodies tangled together between rumbled silk sheets. “All that and much more,” he said softly.
“Oh! Oh. I didn’t realize, I’ve never… um…”
Silent delight filled him at her charming, blushing innocence. “Don’t worry, chere. It’s your first time, and I will be gentle. You have nothing to fear from me.”
“I’m not afraid of you. I could never be afraid of you.”
Satisfaction poured through him. He would cherish her, and be mindful of her innocence at their first joining.
“I wish I could touch you.”
The absolute sorrow in her voice gave him pause. His heart twisted. “Soon,” he promised.

DC:  What advice would you give to your younger self?

BV:  I’d tell her, “Sweetie, disco is dead. Get over it already.” LOL!

DC:  If you had never become an author, what do you think you would be doing right now?

BV:  Time traveling back to the 19th century. I wish! Sometimes I think I’m an anachronist at heart. I love history, and that’s why I started writing the Victorian-era Egyptian historicals. Then again, I’d hate wearing a corset and couldn’t live without modern plumbing or Advil.

Lightning Round:

- dark or milk chocolate? Milk chocolate, mmmmm
- smooth or chunky peanut butter? Smooth! (I’m getting hungry now)
- heels or flats? Flats
- coffee or tea? Coffee. Actually amaretto espresso from Nicaragua, yum, I get some each time I travel there
- summer or winter? Since I live in Florida, I like winter and the cooler temperatures and the fact I don’t have to fret over hurricane season
- mountains or beach? Mountains!
- mustard or mayonnaise? I’m a mayo girl
- flowers or candy? Red or pink roses
- pockets or purse? Purse. I have a collection from my travels
- Pepsi or Coke? Diet coke
- print or ebook? Print, only because I’m on a computer day and night, so my eyes get very tired of looking at a screen

Some more fun stuff:

What is your favorite word? Onomatopoeia. I love the sound of it.
[Ed. Okay, had to look that one up, Bonnie! Here’s the pronunciation: on-uh-mah-tuh-pee-uh and then the definition: the formation of a word, as cuckoo or boom, by imitation of a sound made by or associated with its referent.]

What is your least favorite word? Cancer

What turns you on creatively, spiritually or emotionally? Free-thinking, independent, upbeat people who dare to reach for their dreams, who look beyond the ordinary and accept that we are all different and respect those differences.

What turns you off creatively, spiritually or emotionally? Closed-minded, pessimistic people who disdain those who don’t think as they do and think only they are right.

What sound or noise do you love? A Baltimore Oriole (the bird, not the baseball team) breaking the hushed silence of a deep forest

What sound or noise do you hate? The alarm clock on Monday morning

What is your favorite curse word? &#*@#&@*&#. LOL!

What profession other than your own would you like to attempt? If I were better at science, and had a stronger stomach, I’d love to be a forensic anthropologist.

What profession would you not like to do? Accounting.

If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates?

I hope He says, “Well done, my good and faithful servant.”
I hope He doesn’t say, “You were supposed to take the down escalator.”

C2′s review of As Luck Would Have It by Alissa Johnson
Historical Romance release by Dorchester 30 Sept 08

Since this is my debut here at TGTBTU, it seems appropriate that I’m reviewing a debut author. Of course, it could have gone terribly, terribly wrong – the book, I mean. You may judge the review on your own. However, as luck would have it (heh), I found Ms. Johnson’s first effort quite enjoyable.

We meet Sophie, our heroine, on her way back to England after spending much of her youth traveling the world with her father. A gentleman on the ship tells her he has been sent by the Prince Regent with the request of a favor. Apparently the cousin who has been managing the family estate is friendly with some suspicious fellows and Prinny wants more information. Of course, Sophie balks at spying on family but, after hearing that the cousin has been mismanaging funds and imperiling the family estate, she is persuaded to take the job…for a fee.

At roughly the same time, Alex, our hero (and a duke, as well), is getting an assignment with the same desired outcome but his instructions are a bit more unusual. He is told to get close to Sophie and maneuver his way into the cousin’s confidence. Like any young duke, he has spent a great deal of time and effort avoiding young, marriageable misses of good family. Still, Alex knows his duty to crown and country.

And we’re off into a fun-filled adventure, gentle readers! What happens when two spies with the same objective but working for different people try to accomplish their goals without anyone finding out? Comedy, of course! At least, if the two spies are Sophie and Alex. Plus, Ms. Johnson gives us supporting characters that are more than wallpaper or sequel bait (although there are two more books coming).

The best part of the book, for me, was the banter between the main duo and the supporting characters. The conversations were so lively and fun – without becoming slapstick-y – but still seemed true to the period.

Will our duo catch the spies? Maybe. Will the evil cousin’s machinations be for naught? Maybe. Will love triumph in the end? What kind of book do you think this is, gentle reader? Of course, love will triumph! Jeez. I’m looking forward to the sequel, Tempting Fate, coming in February 2009.

My take on “As Luck Would Have It” – for the plot, since there wasn’t anything groundbreaking (although the way Ms. Johnson managed to weave together several historical romance set-pieces without it seeming awkward or rushed was impressive), a C; for the characters and dialogue, a B. Since, for me, characters and dialogue outweigh plot,

Grade: B-

A WOMAN OF THE WORLD…
After years of wild adventures overseas, Miss Sophie Everton is in no hurry to return home to the boring strictures of the ton. But she’s determined to reclaim her family’s fortune–even if she has to become a spy for the Prince Regent to do it.

A MAN ON A MISSION…
Before she can get her first assignment, she lands right in the lap of the dark and dashing Duke of Rockeforte. She’s faced hungry tigers that didn’t look nearly as predatory. Somehow the blasted man manages to foil her at every turn–and make her pulse thrum with something
more than just the thrill of danger.

AND THE FICKLE FINGER OF FATE
Both are caught in a daring dance of espionage and desire. But to make a true love match, they’ll have to learn to trust in each other…and, of course, a little bit of luck.

Read an excerpt.

Connie’s review of Triple Exposure by Colleen Thompson
Romantic Suspense released by Leisure 29 Jul 08

Photographer Rachel Copeland returns to her hometown of Marfa to escape a scandal and heal. Rachel was accused of killing a 19 year old stalker whose mother garnered a lot of public sympathy and gets Rachel tried in his death when Rachel was really a victim. Rachel must confront her jealous, unfriendly stepmother while trying to make a new life for herself.

Zeke is trying to hide from a tragic past but is drawn into Rachel’s life and her her problems. After so long being alone Zeke can’t help himself caring for Rachel while trying to stay hidden. Everyone thinks the kids mother is the one trying to harm Rachel since she fell apart on her sons death.

Marfa seems pretty small but you run into some unexpected strengths along the way. Rachel comes to terms with her stepmother, her tragedy and finally realizes what is important to her and Zeke realizes you can’t hide from your past that you must confront it and go on from there.

I enjoyed reading the story and especially Rachel’s grandmother. Tragic times lead to a sad story for one of the characters. Good book.

Grade: B

A mother’s love. A son’s life snuffed out. A killer at large. Snapshots of reality, except sometimes layered images do not add up to a whole picture of the truth.

Better than anyone, photographer Rachel Copeland knows the camera can lie. That’s how lurid altered pictures of her appeared on the Internet, starting a downward spiral that ended with her shooting a nineteen-year-old stalker in self-defense. Fleeing the press and the threats of an unidentified female caller, she retreats to her remote hometown in the Texas desert. In Marfa, where mysterious lights hover in the night sky, folks are used to the unexplainable, and a person’s secrets are off limits. But recluse Zeke Pike takes that philosophy even further than Rachel herself. In her viewfinder Zeke’s male sensuality is highlighted, his unexpressed longing for human contact revealed. Through a soft-focus lens, she sees a future for them beyond their red-hot affair, never guessing their relationship will expose the lovers to more danger than either can imagine.

Countdown by Michelle Maddox will be published by Dorchester Shomi on July 29, 2008. This is the author’s first title as Michelle Maddox, but she also writes as Michelle Rowen.

THREE
Kira Jordan wakes up in a pitch-black room, handcuffed to a metal wall. She has 60 seconds to figure out how to escape. Thus begins a vicious game where to lose is to die.

TWO
The stranger she’s been partnered with-her only ally in this nightmare-is a convicted murderer. But if he’s so violent, why does he protect her? And worse yet, what is it behind those haunted sea-green eyes that makes her want to protect him?

ONE
No one to trust. Nowhere to run. And the only hope of survival is working together to beat the COUNTDOWN.

Hmm…Looks interesting. What does it remind me of? Anyhow, check out the excerpt after the cut.

Excerpt

“Welcome to Level Four,” the sing-song voice continued. “A reward level in which Kira is to rescue her partner by crossing a narrow and dangerous bridge high above the city streets, and then the two must continue on to the other side to complete this level successfully. There is no safety gear for this, no ropes, no tricks. All Kira has to work with is her sense of balance and self-preservation. Should they finish they will be well rewarded for their efforts. Our competitors have ten minutes to complete this level. Enjoy!”

I didn’t move. I stood in place and stared out at Rogan. I always thought that I only had a fear of the dark. Who knew about this nagging little fear of heights I’d just developed in the past two minutes?

My mouth went dry.

I shuddered, and looked around the rooftop I was currently standing on. Whomever had removed my blindfold and bindings had disappeared. I was all
alone. Nobody to push me to do this. Nobody to force me.

“Nine minutes remain in this level of The Countdown.”

I made my way to where the platform began — it was even narrower than I’d originally thought. I tried to breathe.

The platform seemed fairly stable. I tested it with my foot and it gave a little, but not much. My upper
thigh gave off a dull ache from where I’d been shot, but I suppose it was better than still bleeding.

These Countdown people wanted their contestants to be in top shape before their precious Subscribers got to watch them die.

So sporting of them.

“Kira!” Rogan shouted again. He had his head up and looked at me. “Be careful!”

I ignored him. Thinking about him right now was only going to distract me. There was no time for me to be distracted. To say the least.

Just don’t look down, I told myself.

Which left me with very few options. The platform was so narrow that when I focused on it, I couldn’t help but see the street so far below me.

My right foot shook as I placed it on the platform and I wavered for a second, holding my arms out to either side of me as I established my balance. I let out a long breath and tried to center myself.

Just like gymnastics. I needed to pretend that I was competing at the Olympics if they were still being held. I wanted that gold medal.

Focus on that gold medal, I thought. Think of nothing else.

“Eight minutes remain in this level of The Countdown.”

The voice seemed louder in my head than usual and it surprised me. I shook a little before I steadied
myself. I took another tentative step and let out a long, shuddery breath.

“You’re doing great, Kira,” Rogan said. From what I could see from twenty feet away, his expression was
strained. He pulled at his bindings and the platform shook.

“Don’t do that!” I yelled. “Just stay still.”

“Sorry!”

“Yeah,” I muttered under my breath and a line of sweat trickled down my forehead and onto my nose. “You’re going to be sorry, you son of a bitch.”

No, don’t think about anything negative, I thought. Nothing. Just focus on putting one foot in front of
the other –

“Seven minutes remain in this level of The Countdown.”

– and doing it quickly.

Christ. That voice was so distracting.

I took another step.

A silver camera buzzed past my face, so close that I felt the wind from it. I glared up into its lens and it came back for another pass.

“How is Kira feeling right now?” the voice asked. “Ready to win The Countdown and receive her ultimate
prize of a first-class ticket on the Offworld shuttle?”

“Fuck off,” I told it. “Pretty please.”

It flew away and out of my peripheral vision, but I could still see two other cameras moving around the air nearby.

Another step. Balance. Another step. Balance.

I raised my gaze to look at Rogan who was much closer now, his head still propped up and he watched me as Iapproached. His jaw was tense. The muscles in his arms tight. The closer I got, I could see a small grin appear on his lips.

“What the hell are you smiling at?” I managed.

“Just the fact that you’ve come to my rescue. Does that make you my knight in shining armor?”

I didn’t smile. “I haven’t rescued you yet.”

His grin faded. “Just watch your step. Don’t fall. Here comes another camera.”

It buzzed close enough that it almost touched me. “What the hell? Are they trying to knock me off this thing?”

“They’re not trying to give you a helping hand, that’s for damn sure.”

“Why’d you let them tie you up like this?”

He pulled at the bindings. The platform shook slightly. “Like it was my idea. They took me outside the room and knocked me out again. I woke up here. Trust me, it was a hell of a shock.”

I studied the ropes that tied him. “This is going to be tricky.”

“I don’t think the knots are too tight. It’s just awkward.”

I studied his face. He looked up at me with those blue-green eyes framed with dark lashes and that fading scar. He wore the same clothes as before: bloody, dirty, ripped. I still saw the handsome man under the ruin, the one I’d let charm me into believing in him.

His dark brows were drawn together as he frowned up at me. “Why are you looking at me that way, sweetheart?”

I blinked back tears. “Just shut up. I need to concentrate.”

I thought back to gymnastics. One lesson had been how to kneel down on the bar without losing balance. It took me forever to learn that without falling off, but I had finally gotten it. However, that was more than ten years ago and definitely not a skill I used all the time. Unfortunately.

I slowly crouched down far enough that I could fumble with the bindings around his ankles just above his worn, black boots.

His body took up the entire width of the platform and then some. He couldn’t move without shaking everything
around and I couldn’t get past him.

He eyed his wrists. “Now what?”

A camera whizzed past my ear and I swatted at it, hitting cold metal.

“Five minutes remain in this level of The Countdown.”

I met his gaze and saw there was more than a trace of fear behind it. There was concern. For me.

My heart wrenched. Why was he concerned for me? Dammit. I hated that I’d convinced myself he was a good man — and even now, after everything, I still had doubts about his guilt.

“I’m thinking.”

He blinked. “What they said earlier…about what happened with you and that lawyer scumbag — ”

“It was true. All of it.”

His jaw tensed. “If he wasn’t already dead I’d find him and rip his heart out.”

I willed myself to stay focused on the platform. “Nothing happened. I learned my lesson the hard way.”

“I’d still kill him.”

“It’s that easy for you? Killing?” My voice broke on the word.

His expression darkened. “I’ll do it for a good cause. For the right reason. To protect myself or somebody I care about.”

“Are you saying that you care about me?”

“Sure.” He averted his gaze. “And now I care that you untie me so we can get this fucking level over with.”

“Don’t forget it’s supposed to be a reward level.”

“I couldn’t give a smaller shit. I just want us to get through this in one piece. Now you’re going to have to climb over me and untie me so we can keep going. There’s not much time left.”

I put a hand on his jean-clad thigh and slowly eased myself lower. He spread his legs so his feet dangled off the side of the platform to give me space to maneuver. Now on my knees, I slid myself closer to him until I couldn’t go any further. I placed my hands on his hard-muscled abdomen, then one at a time on his chest sliding up to his shoulders. I grabbed the platform above his head on either side of his arms. Our bodies were now firmly pressed against each other. I heard his breathing hitch and felt him harden against my stomach.

“Is it wrong that I’m enjoying this a little bit?” he rasped.

Sandy M’s review of Immortals: The Gathering (Immortals, Book 4) by Jennifer Ashley
Contemporary paranormal romance released by Love Spell 28 Aug 07

I kept my hopes up that this book would bring the series together and be a satisfying pseudo ending for the first four books. I’m happy to say that my hopes were very highly rewarded. The action, romance, and emotion was perfect and we’re left in just the right place for the next edition of the series, beginning with Tain’s story, The Redeeming, due out next month.

Hunter is the pleasure-grabbing Immortal of the four brothers. At first you figure that’s just who he is, he loves the ladies and goes for it every chance he gets. But then you learn the real reason why he basically loves’em and leaves’em and, like Leda when she finds out, you just want to hold on to him and make it all better, especially when you further learn that his tragedy happened nine hundred years ago and he still hurts like it happened yesterday.

We know way before he does, of course, that he’s now found the one person who can fill that void in his heart and soul, that one person who can love his hurt away, that one person who can make him whole again. He just has to jump through a lot more hoops before that happens, and those hoops are action packed and right down scary at times.

Even with the heartache Leda has had in her life, she comes to the realization that Hunter is the one for her early on and knows that there’s not much to entice him to stay with her if he won’t open his heart to her. The handsome devil who communicates with animals could drive a saint to drink, but she knows life will be boring and not worth a plug nickel once he decides to leave when he knows he’s getting to close to her to risk being hurt again. When they’re drawn into the hunt for Tain and the demon who wants to control of the world, things begin to move at a frantic pace and no one is sure any of them will survive to worry about such things as love.

I really liked the scenes later in the book when the brothers are finally brought together after so many centuries apart. Even being immortal doesn’t stop the squabbling and the competition between them. When they do come together to save Tain from his self-destructiveness, the emotion among them is deep and heartfelt.

Hunter’s interaction with Mukasa the lion throughout the book is a lot of fun. I kept thinking it would be even more fun if he’d had other interactions with a few more animals, but it’s not that much to quibble over. I know Tain had to leave to find himself after so many eons of captivity, but I wanted to scream at the brothers to make him stay with them after they’d just found him again, but he’s on his own path once again and we’ll find out soon enough what’s in store for him.

This book is a nice ending to this part of the series. We now head for a whole new look for the books themselves and a lot more excitement starting next month.

Grade: A+

Summary:

Created at the dawn of time to protect humanity, the ancient warriors have been nearly forgotten, though magic lives on–in vampires, werewolves, the Celtic Sidhe, and other beings. But now one of their own has turned rogue, and the world is again in desperate need of the Immortals.

He was known as “the crazy one.” And Leda Stowe could see why after finding the stunning half-naked warrior in her lion’s pen–unarmed and completely unafraid. Though he could somehow soothe the temperamental beast, nothing could calm the desire that sparked through her body at his touch. She wished they could hide away together on her island forever, but the world thrummed with danger. Before Leda could claim Hunter for herself, they would have to join the other Immortals to face the greatest trial yet: The Gathering.

Read an excerpt.

Other books in this series:

Caroline Linden‘s review of Hidden by Eve Kenin
Science fiction romance released by Shomi 1 Jul 08

Sometimes you come across a book that’s just impossible to accurately describe. Like Eve Kenin’s HIDDEN: “It’s a book set in a post-apocalyptic future, in Siberia…about a woman who was raised in a lab…and there’s a deadly plague that turns people into cannibalistic zombies…and ice pirates…and oh yeah, a rogue scientist who studies philosophy while he tries to save the world.” Screams romance, no? Think again, because this is not only a fabulous read, it’s taut, sexy adventure at its finest.

HIDDEN zooms back to the Northern Wasteland introduced in DRIVEN, the bleak frozen place Earth has become after a series of (probably nuclear) wars. It’s unforgiving and nearly lawless, with pirates and evil masterminds and rebels circling each other in a brutal struggle. Human life has both advanced and regressed, with impressive medical advances balanced against the utter social decay that has pushed large parts of humanity to the edge of survival. Just like the heroine and hero.

Tatiana has been a medical experiment most of her life, raised by computers and subjected to all sorts of procedures that leave her with some seriously enhanced physical abilities. Of course, it’s also left her with little experience of how humans behave and interact. When she finally escapes from the lab, she sets off on a quest to destroy the people who almost destroyed her, Gavin Ward and a scientist called Tolliver. Gavin Ward, she knows where to find; he’s trying to find–and dissect–her just as hard as she’s trying to avoid him. But Tolliver is a mystery, and yet the key to her desperate attempt to stop a debilitating virus, manufactured from her own genetic material, from being unleashed by Ward on his enemies. And yeah, she plans to waste Ward in the process.

Tristan is a rebel, hiding out in the Wastes with a dangerous mission of his own–nothing less than saving the human race. Unlike Tatiana, he’s deeply alive to emotion and empathy, and knows just how much Ward’s plague threatens humanity, even beyond just bringing death and suffering to its victims. When Tristan’s path crosses Tatiana’s, it’s intrigue at first sight for both of them. After spending her entire adolescence locked in a dungeon (oh my God! Can you imagine?!?),Tatiana feels the first pull of sexual attraction in her life, and watching her deal with it, trying to figure out how to be human and a woman, was quite moving. Inside Tatiana’s highly logical, genetically enhanced body beats a very human heart after all. And while Tristan notes her ethereal eyes, silky hair, and tight figure, it’s the almost superhuman way she dispatches two tough ice truckers twice her size that really snares his interest. Unusual girl, he thinks.

Honey, you have no idea.

Can I just say that’s possibly what I loved most about Tristan? His first thought was not how he wanted to get her into bed, it was, “Damn, that girl’s good in a fight.” Tristan’s no fool, and although Tatiana does appeal to his sex drive, the instant respect he has for her was fabulous. He feels responsible for the small band of rebels hiding out with him, and the fact that he doesn’t have to worry about Tatiana–in fact, that he can even lean on her from time to time–puts their relationship ahead of many couples’ (and not just romance novel ones). Also, although the story is weighted more toward action and adventure than most romances, the romance is pitch-perfect between these two warrior souls. When the only way out of a tight spot is a long climb up a laser-shielded elevator shaft, Tatiana is the one better equipped to do it. Tristan not only agrees to this, not only boosts her up so she can get started, he tells her the most important thing: come back to me. Nope, no sweet, tender “I love you,” but a command that nonetheless expresses perfectly how he feels without beating anyone over the head about it.

Because these two are perfect for each other just as they are. There’s no excess emotional outpouring on either side, just a realization that they each want the other at their back. For once the cover illustration is amazingly accurate. And the pacing is relentless, with no wasted scenes. This is a book that you open intending to read a few chapters, and then look up to realize you’ve read the whole thing almost without stopping to breathe. You can’t help cheering for Tristan and Tatiana as they fight what’s worst in humanity, to find–and save–what’s best.

HIDDEN is romance for the adventurous. If you lusted after Han Solo, this book is for you. If you wanted to be out fighting the dragon instead of locked in the ivory tower, this book is for you. It’s DRIVEN with an added philosophical touch, action and adventure with a jolt of red-hot romance.

Grade: Solid gold A

Summary:
Tatiana has honed her genetic gifts to perfection. She can withstand the subzero temperatures of the Northern Waste, read somebody’s mind with the briefest touch, and slice through bone with her bare hands. Which makes her one badass chick, all right. Nothing gets to her. Until she meets Tristan. Villain or ally, she can’t be sure. But one thing she does know: he has gifts too-including the ability to ramp up her heart rate to dangerous levels. But before they can start some chemistry of their own, they have to survive being trapped in an underground lab, hunted by a madman, and exposed to a plague that could destroy mankind.
Read an excerpt here

This just in…

Dorchester Publishing is giving you the chance of making your dream to be a cover model come true in their Live the Romance Photography Contest. How you ask? Read on!

~ Cash prizes and free books will be awarded to contestants in several categories: Best Historical, Best Paranormal, Most Romantic, and Most Creative.

~ “Romance novels have the power to transport us to worlds of fantasy, lands far away, the distant past and the distant future. They capture our imagination and allow us to see, smell, breathe and touch as if we were the character in our favorite book. Dorchester challenges its readers to bring the books to life by ‘getting into character’ and taking some pictures,” according to Dorchester.

~ So simply choose your favorite character or scene from a Dorchester book, dress up accordingly, snap a photo and send it in to be judged by their Romance experts at cnelson@dorchesterpub.com by September 1, 2008.

~ You could be Egan MacDonald from Highlander Ever After fighting in his plaid and paint or Rain Tairen Soul from King of Sword and Sky, shape-shifting and brandishing your deadly blade. Perhaps you’d like to go shoe shopping and mystery solving like the indomitable Maddie Springer from Alibi in High Heels. If the future is your bag, dash across the Northern Waste as Raina Bowen in Driven. The sky is the limit!

~ For more into, check it out here.

Consider yourself flashed.

Live the Romance Photography Contest

Now it is your chance to be a cover model! Dorchester Publishing is offering readers the opportunity to create their own costumes based on characters in their favorite Dorchester romances for a chance to win cash prizes and free books.

Romance novels have the power to transport us to worlds of fantasy, lands far away, the distant past and the distant future. They capture our imagination and allow us to see, smell, breathe and touch as if we were the character in our favorite book. Dorchester challenges its readers to bring the books to life by “getting into character” and taking some pictures.

Participating is easy. Simply choose your favorite character or scene from a Dorchester book, dress up accordingly, snap a photo and send it in to be judged by our Romance experts.

You could be Egan MacDonald from HIGHLANDER EVER AFTER fighting in his plaid and paint or Rain Tairen Soul from KING OF SWORD AND SKY, shape-shifting and brandishing your deadly blade. Perhaps you’d like to go shoe shopping and mystery solving like the indomitable Maddie Springer from ALIBI IN HIGH HEELS. If the future is your bag, dash across the Northern Waste as Raina Bowen in DRIVEN. The sky is the limit!

A winner will be chosen in each of the following categories: Best Historical, Best Paranormal, Most Romantic and Most Creative. The winners will receive cash prizes and copies of their favorite author’s books.

HOW TO ENTER: Choose your favorite character, get a costume and snap a photo. Email the photo <a href=”mailto:cnelson@dorchesterpub.com” target=”_blank”>here</a> by September 1, 2008.

LauraD review of Sleeping with Ward Cleaver by Jenny Gardiner
Contemporary Romance released 01 Feb 08 from Dorchester

“Sleeping with Ward Cleaver” won the American Title-III Award. I’m really sure what that is, but hey, a win’s a win. The cover is a pink-haired cartoon girl on a bed, it’s labeled contemporary romance, and the words fun and sassy are also on the cover. Do not believe any of this, it’s all there to mislead you.

Claire Doolittle met and married Jack, the man of her dreams. But now, the thrill is gone. Jack has turned into Ward Cleaver, for Claire the epitome of everything boring and stale. They don’t talk, he doesn’t appreciate her, he talks down to her; and instead of the hot sex they used to have, they now have sex-on-Sunday-night. Jack has the great job, while Claire raises the 5(!) kids, and takes care of the house.

Things are about to change. Just as she finds out that Jack’s sexy new (and young) co-worker is going on a trip out of town with him-a trip Claire is definitely not welcome on-she gets an email from an old boyfriend. Todd broke up with Claire and broke her heart, and now he wants to meet her in Miami so that when she finally confronts Jack, Todd can be the one to hold her hand.

I would have enjoyed “Sleeping with Ward Cleaver” quite a bit more had I found any of the characters even a little bit likable. Sadly, I lost count of how many times I muttered “get a therapist” as Claire cried poor pitiful me. Jack teeters on a fine line between jerk executive and irredeemable asswipe. Then there is Todd, the one that got away. Todd is married to his second wife, who he is planning on leaving because she wants kids. He has a child from his first marriage, who he never sees. Despite being married, he is actively pursuing Claire. His emails to Claire actively encourage her to spy on her husband. Todd is a tool.

The story itself moves back and forth between present day, and Claire reminiscing about how she and Jack met and times when they were happier. Todd gets back in touch with Claire via email; I’ve got to say that Todd’s emails to Claire are the least authentic male voice I’ve read in a while.

An upper middle class couple with 5 kids, working an unhappy marriage-that’s a hard subject for a comic romance. Props to Jenny Gardiner for trying. I’m sure there are plenty of readers who will feel that she succeeded; I’m just not one of them.

Grade: D

WHAT HAPPENS AFTER THE “HAPPILY EVER AFTER”?

Sleeping with Ward Cleaver is the funny yet poignant story of a woman at a crossroads in life, who years earlier married a man who swept her off her feet, but now finds that her Mr. Right has evolved into Mr. Always Right, and the only sweeping going on in her life involves a broom and a dustpan. As her dreams collide with reality and the one that got away shows up trying to worm his way back into her heart, she must decide if her once charmed marriage is salvageable, and if so, how she’s going to go about saving it.

Double Enchantment (Relics of Merlin, Book 2) by Kathryne Kennedy

“This is Kathryne’s second book in the Relics of Merlin series, and just like Enchanting the Lady, it delivers a Victorian world full of magic. Author Erin Grady summed it up best with: ‘The imagination of J. K. Rowling and the romance of Julie Garwood.’ I just love the premise of this book, not to mention the shape-shifting stallion of a hero.” – Leah Hultenschmidt, Dorchester Editor Extraordinaire

Lady Jasmina was in a world of trouble. A simple spell had gone disastrously haywire and now there was a woman running around London who looked exactly like her-a woman with no sense of propriety whatsoever. All Society was whispering, and a baronet she’d never met was suddenly acting like he knew her…in a most intimate way. To find her double and set things right, they’d have to work together-braving the fog-shrouded streets, a mysterious group called the Brotherhood, and a passion stronger than any magic.

You can find Devon’s review of book 1 here and she is mucho excited to read this next one. As is Sandy M, who also enjoyed the first book. If you haven’t picked it up yet and you are one of those “le gasp! books must be read in order or a fairy loses their wings” types, this is a September release (i.e., 26 Aug 08).

Check out her contest (hurry! closes May 31) here, read an excerpt here and pre-order here.

Show me more Shomi, you say? [Hee, I iz funneh]

Razor Girl By Marianne Mancusi

Molly Anderson is not your average twenty-one-year-old. It’s been six years since she and her family escaped into a bunker, led by her conspiracy theorist father and his foreknowledge of a plot to bring about the apocalypse. But her father’s precautions didn’t stop there. Molly is now built to survive.

Yes, Ian Anderson’s favorite book gave him ideas on how to “improve” his daughter. Molly is faster, stronger, and her ocular implants and razor-tipped nails set her apart. Apart, when—venturing alone out of the bunker and into a plague ravaged, monster-ridden wilderness—what Molly needs most is togetherness. Chase Griffin, a friend from her past, is her best bet. But while he and others have miraculously survived, the kind boy has become a tormented man. Together, these remnants of humanity must struggle toward trusting each other and journey to the one place Molly’s father believed all civilization would be reborn: the Magic Kingdom, where everyone knows it’s a small world after all.

The Excerpt:

The zombie turned suddenly, bloodshot eyes zeroing in on where Chase stood in the shadows. Forcing himself to keep his breaths slow and regular, he lifted his rifle, trying not to make any sudden moves that would set her off. His hands shook, making it difficult to line up the female creature’s head. The money shot. The shot he’d need to take her down for good and protect his family with the least risk to himself. How had she gotten so close without him realizing?

The woman let out a muffled moan, hairless, bony arms outstretched like something from an old George Romero movie. But this was no film set. The world in 2036 had become a true horror flick, and Chase was one of its stars. He was the one who’d done the drugs, had sex with the girl and uttered the words, “I’ll be right back.” In other words, he was the one who was about to wind up dead.

It was more than a bit tempting to run. To get as far away as possible from this pus dripping creature formerly known as a human. But she was too close to the campsite where Molly and the children were sleeping. And while Chase had failed before things were different now. For the first time since the plague erupted, there was hope. And no dumb, oozing, post-apocalyptic monster was going to take that away. Not on his watch.

He blew out a breath and steadied his gun, eyes narrowing to slits. Steady as she goes, he told himself. This was a matter of protecting his family: both what was left of it and what he’d rebuilt. It was a matter of doing good, and not the simple rehash of senseless violence that once had been so popular on the silver screen. Shoot-’em-up slasher films… It was so different in reality—tougher to summon the courage to fire, to engage, to set in play the sequence of events that he knew had to follow.

In an instant it happened. The creature lurched forward and Chase fell back a step, squeezing the trigger of his rifle. Its recoil bruised his shoulder. Blood gouted from the woman’s chest—he’d missed. Only a flesh wound. And she was still coming. And two other shadows had appeared behind her. Three…no, four? How much ammunition was left in his gun?

He fired again at the Other, twice more, and her head exploded in a mass of red and grey pulp. At the same time he reached around his neck and pulled free a whistle. Sometimes this worked, as the creatures were sensitive to high-pitched noises. He blew as hard as he could. Sure enough, the shadows that had risen behind the first Other stopped moving. There came a cacophony of inhuman screeches and then the shadows dissipated. The creatures had turned and fled, hands over their ears.

Chase watched them go, breathing heavily. The whistle fell from his bloodless lips. “Yeah, I thought so,” he said, shaking out his arms and trying to regain some composure. “I thought so! Run, cowards!” He nodded to himself and stepped out from the shadows.

Only to find himself thrown backwards.

He crashed hard onto the asphalt of the street, the impact knocking the breath from his lungs. His vision blurred and, for a moment, nothing made any sense. Then he looked up and saw what had struck him. An Other towered above, clearly not scared away by his whistle. It was growling and spitting.

It was a huge male, and it lunged forward, hands finding Chase’s neck, encircling and squeezing tight, cutting off his breath. Desperate, Chase kicked out, slammed his foot into the creature’s groin. The monster bellowed but didn’t let go. Chase struggled harder, panic slamming through him as he used one arm to brace himself, fighting to keep away from the monster’s mouth. He reached for his boot with his free hand, feeling for the knife he always kept there. It took what seemed forever to wrap his fingers around the hilt. The creature’s grip tightened, and Chase saw blackness swimming toward him. Pain seared through his shoulder. Then, in his final moment of consciousness, he managed to yank the knife free and drive it into the creature’s heart.

The zombie recoiled then fell on top of him, crushing Chase with his weight. But the fingers loosened and Chase was able to breathe. He sucked in a huge breath and pushed the creature off. It rolled back onto the pavement, staring up at the sky and whimpering. The heart was always a weak spot.

Chase surged to his feet, stared down at the monster. It looked a lot more human lying there now, vulnerable and bleeding. This was something he always hated. He wondered who it had been before the change. A doctor? A lawyer? Maybe a humanitarian who built houses for poor people.

It didn’t matter. It was none of those things now, he reminded himself. Just a monster. A monster that needed to be put out of its misery.

He grabbed his rifle and pressed the barrel to the zombie’s head. Closing his eyes, he pulled the trigger. The shot shook his arm and echoed in his ears. He let the sound fade away before looking. The body was twitching, the head disintegrated.

He forced himself to look away but as he did a piercing pain found his right shoulder. Startled, he glanced down, his mouth falling open as he saw where his leather jacket had come open, where the shirt below was ripped and bloody. Teeth marks. He’d been bitten. He’d been bitten.

“Chase! Chase, are you okay?”

He looked up. Molly. She was running toward him, her face white.

“Chase?”

“I’m okay,” he said, turning at an angle so she couldn’t see his wound. “I got him.”

She stopped a few feet away, looking down at the remains of the two dead zombies. “God, what happened?” she asked.

“One got the jump on me. No big deal. It’s all fine,” he lied. The pain gripped his shoulder like a vise and it was all he could do not to fall to his knees. But if he fell, she’d know. He couldn’t let her know.

She took a step forward but he held out a hand. “I’m all slimy,” he said. “Zombie gook. You know. I’m going to go find a fountain or something to wash off.”

“Are you sure you’re all right?” she asked, peering at him, confusion and worry warring on her face.

He felt sick to his stomach but nodded. The last thing he wanted was to lie to her. But what choice did he have? He had to think of her and the kids. She was too weak to get where she needed to go on her own now. Wonderful Molly. Tough Molly. His beloved. She needed his help to find her father. To complete her pilgrimage. To save the world. And who knew how her priorities would change once she learned the truth?

Well, he had two weeks. Two weeks before the virus could work its way fully through his system, mutating his cells, destroying his brain and turning him into one of them: a diseased, merciless monster with an appetite for human flesh. An Other. He had two weeks to get Molly where she had to go. Then he’d use his rifle one last time—to put a bullet in his own head.

© Marianne Mancusi. All rights reserved.

The Model Contest: Romance Style…
by Lynne Connolly

And so to the final full day. The book signing day! I’m not signing at the big fair this year, so I had a wonderful time wandering around the packed ballroom and talking to some of my heroines, squeeing at the likes of Mary Jo Putney and Pat Rice, and buying books. Just what I need. All those romance authors in one room, and they all got on like crazy, lots of chatting and hugging. Women together are real bitches. So not.

Last night I was inveigled into helping with the Lotus Circle tarot readings. I’d brought two packs with me, my old Rider pack and a new French deck I’m working with. I left the Thoth pack at home. They’re one of the original 12 test decks printed when the Crowley Thoth deck was first considered for use, instead of the book where they’d resided for fifty years. They are not easy to read, so I use them for in depth work, and there is no way they would work properly here. But we raised a good amount of money for a worthy cause and we’re doing it again on Sunday.

I did lose my voice, though, shouting above all the squealing and screaming. I can’t tell you about the cover model dinner, because I didn’t go. Not my thing, really and I wasn’t particularly hungry, even for beefcake. So Fabio and Adrian Paul came and went without me. The poor dears. Then I suppose I should talk about Mr. Romance (sigh, stifled yawn!) The contestants worked really hard all week, garnering votes and being generally nice chaps.

The contest was its usually cheesy self, hugely enjoyable and squirmy (though not necessarily in a good way). When the guys lined up in their smart casuals at the end I had a revelation. Buy some Armani or Hugo Boss, guys. A good suit can make a man, and you will, I promise, look even more gorgeous. Last year’s winner, Jason Santiago was as gracious as any contestant in a beauty contest (what, did you think it was their personalities we were whooping at?) and yes, he wore a good suit that smoothed over his nice abundant curves. John Fish won two awards, nice piece of beefcake that he is, and the two runners up to the main prize were James Gaskin and Fred Williams, both oozing sex appeal and baby oil. The winner was Chris Winters. He is going to look stunning on the cover of a Shomi book, you mark my words.

Later, as well as sponsoring the Cover Model contest, Dorchester held its annual party. A proper party with a great band playing great music, with melon and crackers and cheese and hot pretzels which I would have liked a bit of butter on, but when I said that my table companions recoiled in horror. Mustard just isn’t my thing, but I do like a piece of bread and butter from time to time. Most of the cover models and the Cavemen were present, having fun and winding down after their exhausting day. Looking beautiful is hard work.

Because I’m an Ellora’s Cave author, I got to see a teeny bit more than most, although I haven’t discovered who is on the cover of Icefire, coming to Ellora’s on May 2nd. Any ideas?

[Ed.: This is Chris Winters too.  HAMINA HAMINA HAMINA!]

There’s video of Day 1 and 2 behind the cut.

‘Cuz you know you need to know.

Rebels of Romance’s video of Day 1.

This just in…

The continuation of C.L. Wilson’s very popular Tairen Soul fantasy series is getting ever closer…

• Books 1 and 2, Lord of the Fading Lands and Lady of Light and Shadows, will be out in audiobook format later this year.  But you’re missing out if you don’t have your print copies now!
• Book 3, King of Sword and Sky, will be released 30 Sep 08
• Book 4, Queen of Soul and Songs, is slated to be out 4 Feb 09
• Dorchester just released the brand spankin’ new covers for both books. Aren’t they goregous?

Consider yourself flashed.

Hidden by Eve Kenin, new from Shomi out in **July 2008**

Tatiana has honed her genetic gifts to perfection. She can withstand the subzero temperatures of the Northern Waste, read somebody’s mind with the briefest touch, and slice through bone with her bare hands. Which makes her one badass chick, all right. Nothing gets to her.

Until she meets Tristan. Villain or ally, she can’t be sure. But one thing she does know: he has gifts too- including the ability to ramp up her heart rate to dangerous levels. But before they can start some chemistry of their own, they have to survive being trapped in an underground lab, hunted by a madman, and exposed to a plague that could destroy mankind.

Prologue

Sub-basement, Janson Transport Head Office, Port Uranium, January, 2088

Blood had its own scent. Metallic, sharp. Faintly sweet.

Tatiana raised her hand to her cheek, beyond pain, almost beyond thought. There would be more. With Duncan Bane, there was always more.

To make you stronger. To make you invincible. Bane’s justification. And the simple truth. But Tatiana wasn’t like Wizard or Yuriko. She didn’t recover as quickly as her siblings. She bruised easier. Her bones broke where Wizard’s and Yuriko’s bent to absorb the force.

And Bane had been particularly brutal this session.

“Because you are soon to go on your first mission,” he explained in that soft, soft cultured voice, pacing a straight line before the three of them. He paused, touched Tatiana on the shoulder. She shuddered, but knew better than to pull away. “This will ensure that you are ready, that you survive. You”-he spun toward Wizard-”will be the commander, and a commander must be able to make rapid decisions.”

Another step, and Bane stood in front of Yuriko. Running his finger along her cheek, he smiled as she jerked away. “So decide now, Wizard. Who will be subjected to ten more minutes?”

Tatiana choked back a plea. Please. I can’t. I can’t-

She shook her head, struggled to focus. The room felt too big, too bright, and this all felt so familiar, like she had been here many times before. She knew what Wizard would say even before the words left his lips.

“Me. I will take the ten minutes.”

She let out a dry sob. Wizard. Her brother, so logical even in this. He would take the blows because he was the most physically resilient. And because he would stand before her and take them in her stead.

Yuriko was like him. Clean and linear in thought and action.

But Tatiana…

Bane laughed as he stared at Wizard, the sound hollow, echoing off the bare walls, echoing in her darkest dreams.

Yes, just a dream. It must be.

“You are the commander,” he said. “The fastest. The strongest. You have the best chance of finishing your mission. I may send you out tonight, before you have time to heal, though. Choose the weakest, Wizard. A good commander knows when to calculate the odds, when to sacrifice for the good of the mission.”

“Wizard…save her. Please. She has a chance,” Yuriko’s normally cool tone was laced with despair, with pain, and Tatiana’s heart shattered as it did each time the nightmares sank her to this place, to the deep dark of her soul, the coldest part of her memories. Because in begging Wizard to save Tatiana, Yuriko had doomed herself.

Bane would set loose his brutality on her.

Trembling, Tatiana swayed on her feet, her swollen lips working as she tried to form the words…What words? Did she mean to offer herself to Bane’s fists, or to sacrifice her sister?

Again came the eerie, frightening sensation of familiarity and the terrifying knowledge that she had lived these moments again and again, that the outcome was always the same.

The walls around her shimmered and danced, and she heard voices, saw lights. They were wrong. They had no place here.

She had no place here. None of it was real.

Heart racing, palms damp, Tatiana began to run, her feet pounding against the cold stone floor, hard, fast, only she didn’t move at all. Her limbs pumped as hard and as fast as they could, and still she stayed in one place, trapped in the past.

She only needed to pull free, come awake, and they would be gone, the pain, the memories, the horror. But neither the bonds of sleep nor the terrors that dwelled in her memories eased to set her free. They held her in tight tendrils that dragged her back and pulled her into a place she had no wish to be.

Wizard…save her. Please. She has a chance.

Yuriko’s voice, low, urgent.

Bound in the barbed web of events that had played out long ago, Tatiana thrashed and flailed. A dream. A dream. It was only a dream.

“Calculate the odds,” Bane ordered.

Tatiana’s breath came in short, huffing pants. She couldn’t push any sound past the lump in her throat. Coward. She was a coward. Weak.

Hazy, unfocused, she shifted her gaze to Wizard. Silently she pleaded for…what? What did she want him to do? What could he do?

The outcome was always the same. She had been powerless to change it then, powerless to change it now.

“Choose.” Bane whispered the word against Wizard’s ear.

For the first time in her recollection, her brother hesitated.

Choose. Choose. Choose.

And then Bane’s face melted like wax in a flame, shifting, changing, until it was a different man who chained her, a different man who stood looking down at her wanting to master her, to use her, to twist what she was for his own gain.

She had thought Bane the face of purest evil. But she’d been wrong. So wrong.

Gavin Ward. Dr. Gavin Ward.

He was here for her. Her time was up.

Sweating, screaming, Tatiana bolted upright, the dream so real that she smelled the stink of her own fear, felt the sting of the blows in her cheek, her jaw, as though they had landed minutes rather than years past. Felt the pain of knowing that her weakness had cost her sister her life.

Yuriko. Oh, God. Yuriko.

Dragging her knees up, Tatiana wrapped her arms around them, and lowered her forehead. She closed her eyes, shuddering in the cold and the darkness, fighting the memories, the anguish, the fear.

A nightmare, she told herself. Only a nightmare.

But it wasn’t.

Because as she raised her head, she saw him, there, in the shadows, just beyond the bars that caged her. Gavin Ward was there. Watching.

And the light glinted off the scalpel in his hand.

© Eve Eve Silver 2008. All rights reserved

** doesn’t it just make you WANT it now… don’t worry July isn’t THAT far away… and if you haven’t picked up Driven yet WHAT are you waiting for? Do keep in mind you do NOT HAVE to read Driven by Eve Kenin before reading Hidden. They take place in the same world are NOT sequels.

But if you are now dying to read this and haven’t read Driven yet, check out our reviews here and here. You can thank us later .

This just in…

Dorchester’s popular SHOMI line is gearing up for a four-month explosion stating in late summer 2008, which kicks off with Hidden by Eve Kenin.

You may recall it being whined about mentioned on TGTBTU already.

• Countdown by Michelle Maddox in August 2008 (29 Jul)
• Razor Girl by Marianne Mancusi in September 2008 (26 Aug)
• Irreversible by Liz Maverick in October
• Phenomenal Girl 5 by A. J. Menden in November

So get ready to SHOMI!

Considered yourself flashed.

This just in…

Those sexy demigods are back. Love Spell’s Immortals series is slated to begin again in the fall…

• The Redeeming by Jennifer Ashley out in September (26 Aug 08)
• The Crossing by Joy Nash in October 2008
• The Haunting by Robin T. Popp in November 2008
• The Reckoning by all three authors is due out in February 2009

For more information check out The Immortals website.

Ever wonder which Immortal Warrior is your Soul Mate?  Find out here: Immortal Warrior Quiz.

Consider yourself flashed.

Sandy M’s review of News Blues by Marianne Mancusi
Contemporary Chick Lit released by Love Spell on 26 Feb 08

While Chick Lit is not my favorite to read, I have to admit that I had fun with this book. I didn’t have quite the connection I do with characters in historicals or paranormals that I love to read, but I still enjoyed Maddy and her on again/off again screwed-up life.

All Maddy really wants is a job as a producer with Newsline, sitting right next to her idol who inspired her to study journalism in school. And she wants a man in her life. Her goal for the job of her dreams is still well in sight, but it’s the man of her dreams that’s still eluding her. She gets through her quirky days at News 9 trying to do a good job on crazy and lame assignments from people who no longer care about truth in journalism.

With the appearance of a sexy photographer, Jamie Hayes, who’s all hers to work and play with, her luck seems to have changed. At the same time she gets a lead on a story that will definitely make her career, if it doesn’t kill her first, she’s falling head over heals for Jamie. Her happiness is short lived, however, when her parents announce they’re divorcing: her father is marrying a younger, pregnant woman; her mother is gallivanting around the globe.  And her out-of-control younger sister has landed on her doorstep. Then she finds out even her man is too good to be true.

Maddy has attitude. She’s tough. She’s also realistic, sensitive, and she bucks up when she has to and tries to do the right thing. She’s clever too, as she shows when she one-ups her boss to do what she knows has to be done, the consequences be damned. The romance in this story is much more than I’ve found in other chick lit books I’ve read. I liked Jamie, a man in a huge pickle when it comes to women, but he knows what he wants and goes for it, good or bad. And he’s sensitive. As much as I like a macho guy, he has to have some sensitivity and Jamie pulls it off with his masculinity intact.

There’s also plenty of crises in this book and they’re each handled with all the parties holding their heads high and continuing to plow through life. Sort of like we all do every day.

Grade: C+

From the back cover:

     TUNE IN      All 27-year-old Maddy Madison wants is a cute guy, a designer handbag and to work at Newsline. What she has is a dead-end job at News 9 San Diego, a psycho boss and a counterfeit Kate Spade. One with a badly glued-on label. Oh, and no guy.

     TURN ON     Just when Maddy’s sure her days of producing sensationalistic puff pieces will never end (“Perilous Pets!” “Deadly Dishwashers!” “Clay that Kills!”) she’s offered a promotion. She’s now an investigative producer—and that’s not all; she’s also partnered with the station’s newest photographer: sexy, motorcycle-riding bad boy and former moviemaker Jamie Hayes. But every silver cloud has a stormy lining. Her new job is with News 9’s narcissistic anchor, Terrance Toller; Jamie’s getting married (not to her); and reporting the truth is about as easy as watching your divorced parents get remarried (not to each other).

     TAKE OFF     So, how does Maddy get to produce real news, bag her boss and win her man? Stay tuned. It’s the story of a lifetime.

     Read an excerpt.

Lawson’s Review of The Perfect Wife by Victoria Alexander
Historical romance reprinted by Avon 26 Feb 08 by Avon (Original Dorchester release Nov ’96)

There’s been a bit of a stir by some people about this book. Yes, it is a reprint. This could be a big deal to some and not to others, but after reading this book I don’t really see what all the excitement is about. But then, I didn’t see what all the excitement was about with Chase’s Lord of Scoundrels either. Maybe it’s just me, but I know when both of these books were originally printed I was generally reading only Julie Garwood (many many times) or Kathleen Woodiwiss (many many times). So what is up with this one? Well . .

It’s not that I don’t like Victoria Alexander. I generally enjoy her books, in fact one of my favorites is The Prince’s Bride. But then she can hit or miss depending on one fact: how independent is her heroine. Is this an important thing to quibble over? I think so. Sabrina Winfield is one of those heroines that you want to like, but deep down you know you can’t.

Sabrina is on a quest for French gold in Egypt to make herself financially solvent and provide her daughter with a dowry. Her daughter is engaged to Erick Harrington, Nicholas Harrington, Earl of Wyldewood’s son and heir. Sabrina had been an adventurous person in a former life, before her return to London some years before. She had been a smuggler (to make money since her husband’s death left her penniless) and Nicholas the determined government agent out to catch her.

Nicholas follows Sabrina and goes with her to Egypt, and their children follow as well, with Nicholas’ sister serving as chaperone. As do three spurned suitors of Sabrina’s. Sabrina had hid her natural exuberance so well that everyone was afraid for her virtue as a serene, well mannered widow. And thus the adventure to Egypt is filled with everyone’s agendas and intrigues.

The fact that Sabrina’s daughter Belinda is afraid for her mother’s virtue is laughable. Even in 1818, widows were allowed a greater measure of latitude and independence in society. But then, Sabrina doesn’t really act like a dignified widow. She’s 36, but she’s stubborn, immature, prideful and rather selfish. Of course now, what woman isn’t all of those things? But the combination in Sabrina comes off as petulant rather than a fiery spirit, no matter what people see in her.

Nicholas has pride as well, but he’s also an honorable rake and takes things rather well for just trying to see to the well being of son’s future mother-in-law. For what he puts up with Sabrina, when he looses his temper he comes across as the more sympathetic party than she does. Though he’s still a man and thinking with other parts of his anatomy rather than his head, or even heart.

Belinda and Erick are cute enough, just young and idealistic, Nicholas’ sister Wynne is nice, if not naive and rather bossy, Sabrina’s former smuggling partners are manly, but overly indulgent to Sabrina’s whims and her fomer suitors are just bumbling idoits.

Why this book was reprinted is something that I don’t particularly understand, as it stands more for the growth of Alexander’s writing talent rather than a classic that people may have missed before this point. But Nicholas is a good hero and that does help save most of the rest of the book from absolute cliche, predictability and annoyance.

Grade: C-

     The perfect wife should be beautiful, trusting, and absolutely agreeable—or so the Earl of Wyldewood thought. But in New York Times bestselling author Victoria Alexander’s intriguing tale, he finds that marriage is about more than mere appearances . . .

     When the Earl of Wyldewood meets Sabrina Winfield, he thinks he’s found the ideal match. Graceful and genteel, the elegant blonde will look simply exquisite displayed on his arm. And a lady like Sabrina will undoubtedly occupy her time with proper matters, leaving him free to pursue his own pleasures . . .

     But beneath Sabrina’s delicate beauty lies the most infuriatingly stubborn, wildly adventurous woman the earl has ever met. She’s nothing like the perfect wife he had imagined. And before long, all he can think of is quieting her biting wit (with his kisses), putting an end to her outlandish schemes (with his own carefully planned seduction), and doing everything in his power to become the perfect husband.

     Read an excerpt.

Sandy’s review of Alibi in High Heels (High Heels Mysteries, Book 4) by Gemma Halliday
Contemporary romance/chick lit released by Making It (Dorchester) 26 Feb 08

I had a good time with this book. Of course, I found out not too far into it that there were three books about Maddie and her antics published before this one, but it was okay because I didn’t feel like I missed anything too important having not read them.

Maddie is a breath of fresh air. She’s upbeat. She doesn’t give up. And she knows when she’s lost a good thing. Realizing that Jack may be out of her life for good, she still pushes on to clear herself, but every once in a while Jack will float through her mind. She’s the typical woman in love, even if she doesn’t know it herself.

The story itself gets complex with all the players, but the reader never gets lost. There’s plenty of twists and turns to keep you guessing, and the ending of this book was both a delight and very frustrating! Now you have to read it to find out what that is!

Grade: B

     Blurb: Baguettes, bodies, and haute couture galore! Shoe designer turned amateur sleuth, Maddie Springer, is at it again, this time in fabulously fashionable Paris. When Europe’s designer de jour, Jean Luc LeCroix, invites Maddie to show her creations at Paris Fashion Week, Maddie’s sure she’s died and gone to heaven. That is until Jean Luc’s top model is found dead on the runway, stabbed with a familiar stiletto heel.

     Sure someone is trying to frame her, Maddie enlists the help of her friends, including the sexy Detective Jack Ramirez, to uncover a daring jewel heist, a devious blackmailer, and even a few skeletons lurking in the closets of those closest to her. But as the evidence mounts, Maddie becomes the prime suspect and Ramirez is stuck between a badge and a cute blonde with a tendency for trouble. Will he stand by her as she attempts to track down an international killer, or will this be the case that finally comes between them? One thing’s for sure, if Maddie doesn’t uncover the real killer soon, she may be saying her final adieu.

     Read an excerpt.

Other books in the series:

Before Syb fires me for being the worst Contest Duckie ever (I admit it, I’m WordPress challenged, or as Syb said, I have bevnical difficulties), I wanted to send some luv out.


I hope all of you had as much fun during Valenduckie Week as we did. Our Guest Cupids and all you “honorary duckies” created sooo much fun and mayhem! HUGE THANKS to all of you for joining us– YOU made it a party for US, too. (I have to admit that enticing Phil Gigante to come play with us made me as giddy as my 5th grade self was with The Monkees.)

And kudos to our duckie wrangler, Sybil. All those techie hiccups with the new template were worth it because Valenduckie Week showed us that Syb’s vision of a magazine style site was spot-on. The mayhem and craziness were safely contained within the Events box while Reviews and Ponderings each had their own spotlights without getting lost in the Valenduckie mayhem.

If you haven’t done so yet, check our Guest Cupid posts to see if you’ve won a prize. Look to your right… see the sidebar? Click on the names to read the Valenduckie stories from our Guest Cupids. Many of them also held contests, so click on the word “Winner” next to their name to see who scored some Valenbooty.

Want to browse through all the posts? When you go back to the front page, look at the title of this section– “BUZZ, GUESTS, and EVENTS – click for index” -OR- the “Category”/ “Guest & Events” drop-down box at the bottom of the right sidebar. Click on them to scroll through everything in that category. Or look down at the bottom of this post. See the blue “tag” that says “Valenduckie”? Click that to browse only the Valenduckie posts. (BTW, those methods also work to browse our Reviews and Ponderings, too.)


You remember all those prize packs o’ books that our Valenduckie Surprise winners won? Well, I want to shower some duckie love and thanks on the people that made those prizes possible.

Our two Purple Prose Challenge winners, Sharmi and Little Lamb Lost, have picked a couple of good ones from Samhain, who gave them each a choice of any ebook download…

Berkley will be sending the winner of our Valenduckie Surprise #1, Katiebabs, the following:

Also from Berkley, the winner of Valenduckie Surprise #3, JSL, will receive…

Valenduckie Surprise #2 winner, Azteclady, will receive her books courtesy of Harper Collins (Avon, Avon Red):

Our Mission imPossible winner, Becky, will receive:
From Dorchester (mailed separately)

Courtesy of Jo Goodman, SIGNED by Jo Goodman

Courtesy of Avon Red

Courtesy of Kresley Cole, SIGNED by Kresley Cole

Courtesy of Bantam Dell

[Oh, btw, if Syb is crazy enough to keep me on as the Contest Duckie, be prepared for spontaneous outbursts of "SYB! I wanna give something away!"]