Ok, so some of these are old announcements, but some of these are new. Still, thank you for your patience! A lot has been going on, but never fear, contests DO end at the Pond, and prizes ARE always awarded.

Winners, you have one week to contact me about your prize.

The winner from Anya Bast’s Original Guest Post… for the last time… Shelley – you’re up! You’ve won a copy of Witch Heart!

Lauren Dane’s Giveaway winner … is Stacy!!! Congratulations You’ve won a copy of Taking Care of Business. Enjoy!

And… the lucky winners of What Happens in Vegas… After Dark are Christine, Little Lamb Lost, and Ann Marie. Congratulations, ladies!

All of you have been chosen by randomizer.org, or an unbiased third party. Again, you have ONE WEEK, so make sure you check the posting date and don’t miss the cutoff.  Please email your information to limecello@tgtbtu.com

And stay tuned for more exciting giveaways and fun. Especially all those fabulous Duck Chats.

Lauren: Hey everyone, thanks so much for having me here today!

If you got through the above silliness – you know a little bit about my upcoming contemporary erotic romance release, Taking Care of Business. One of my favorite things about the book is that I wrote it with my bestie, Megan Hart. We came up with the idea as a way to pass the time while waiting in line for a dinner at the 2007 RT Convention in Houston. The whole process has been a lot of fun and there’s something to be said about every once in a while taking a project that is just about fun – if the opportunity comes up, I highly recommend it! Megan and I have a lot of goofy fun so writing a book was really just a lot of us talking too much on IM and ripping ourselves off when we needed dialog. I’m sure it’s not always this enjoyable – this time around, I had a huge last minute deadline drop in while we were writing No Reservations and so we had to write around my schedule. Luckily, we know each other pretty well and we share the same basic attitude about work so it didn’t cause any tension. But a lot of the time, it was like, “I think Kate needs to go to a strip club with Dix.” And Megan would ping me back, “WHEEEEE!” Some days, this job is really fun.

I loved writing Katherine because she’s a woman who knows what she wants. She’s focused on her career and she knows the hard way that things in business are different for women than they are for men so she keeps a big wall between her personal life and her work life. I loved that about her character, I loved that she wasn’t a woman who hated sex or who was afraid of love, she just has to figure out if she can let someone from her work life into her personal life.

In her case, her man, Charles Dixon, isn’t having any excuses. But he’s respectful of her space and her independence. He doesn’t think she’s being silly but he wants her and he’s not going to let her walk out of his life until she admits she wants him too. Of course, it doesn’t hurt that in my head, Dix is totally Dr. Christian Troy from Nip/Tuck. Poor Dix, I think Kate sullied him a bit, and left him sweaty and weak kneed.

Anyway, it was a great experience. Two friends writing about two friends. The story is simple and straightforward with two adult women facing a lot of the same things many women face with men who aren’t jerks or too good to be true. I hope if you pick up TCOB you have as fun reading it as we had writing it.

Pre-Order from Amazon US – releases March 31, 2009
One conference, two friends, two men who know how to take care of business.
Blurb: After leaving the wrong man, Leah Griffin’s not ready to look for the right one. All she wants is to survive the conference she’s planning and spend some time with her best friend Kate Edwards. She’s not expecting the conference services manager to be so tall, dark and handsome…or so eager to please. It’s Brandon Long’s job to make Leah happy, but after a scorching interlude in her hotel room, neither can deny business has become pleasure.
Smart, driven and successful attorney, Katherine Edwards has spent her life making the right choices. Directly counter to those right choices, she’s involved in a long distance, secret love affair with a co-worker. Charles Dixon is a bad choice she can’t help but make – over and over. A conference and a promotion bring Kate back to Pennsylvania and suddenly, Dix wants far more than a few nights in random hotel rooms. He wants something permanent and Katherine has to figure out if sometimes a wrong choice isn’t exactly what a woman needs.

We had a great time with this project and were lucky enough to also sell the follow up book, NO RESERVATIONS which follows Kate and Dix, Leah and Brandon this time to Las Vegas

 [Ed note: Lauren is going to give away a copy of her book, so chime in and say incredibly witty things. It might just be your lucky day.]

I met the Bree half of Moira Rogers several months ago in a multi-fandom community, and from there it was like some kind of synergy had taken place. Our taste in books, particularly romance, is frighteningly similar, and so when the first Moira Rogers books came out, I became an instant fan. Now, with Crux, the dynamic duo of Bree and Donna have taken a leap into urban fantasy that Sandy and I both love. In celebration of the release of Crux, Bree and Donna, the two halves of Moira Rogers, stopped by the pond to talk to us about their writing process. Stay tuned at the end of this post for a contest!

And now, please welcome Moira Rogers!

When Shannon gave me a long leash to come up with my own topic for a guest blog post, my first thought was, “Oh, she’s going to regret this.” Before we get started, I feel like I should issue a disclaimer up front so no one can say they weren’t warned:
I, the Bree half of Moira Rogers, am an enormous geek.

There, I said it. No take backs. I’m a dorky McDork pants geek princess, and on most days my partner in crime is no better. Donna and I love gizmos and gadgets, comic books and computers, and we really, really like RPGs. We met our husbands in a table top role playing game at the local comic book store in a true romantic comedy tale too geeky for publication. We played dozens of games over the years, and we always had one thing in common: we drove everyone crazy with our elaborate back stories and highly flawed characters who were more likely to get the party blown up than actually kill the bad guy.
What can I say? We love a good redemption storyline.

Donna and I are a comparatively rare oddity in the writing world. We’re two people who share a single penname, and that penname is our career. We’re not two authors who have joined forces to write works together; we’re two writers who have joined forces to become one author. There’s a Captain Planet joke in there I’m dying to make, but I don’t want Shannon to beat me too severely when this is over, so I’ll refrain.

We get a lot of questions about how we write and what our process is. People are always fascinated that we have taken this seemingly terrifying leap of faith together, that we do something so intensely personal as telling a story together and somehow at the end of the day are still friends.

The first thing I tell everyone who asks is this: it is not for everyone. We have our epic battles and fights, our spats and our disagreements. We have hurt feelings when someone says, “Oh, okay, so what you’re saying is you want them to name that baby Deus ex machina.” (Ouch, I’m still smarting from that, Donna. More so because you had to be right.)

There are a hundred ways to write a story, and I don’t think any of the methods are the one true way. What I do know is that I can’t imagine working with someone who didn’t prioritize the story elements in the same way I do. Donna and I have our gamer roots to thank for this agreement, I think, because our number one concern is always the characters. Every character in every book we write has a complex history, family, a personality, trouble and triumphs. Every character. That guy who showed up for 3 minutes on the telephone? Him too. We love creating characters. We stash facts and tidbits about them in a top secret wiki—facts that might look a little like a character sheet.

At the end of the day, we almost never have a story idea before we have characters. Our characters shape our stories because each one is the story we think we want to tell for this character. It also means killing them feels like the loss of a person with so many potential stories left to tell, but when you’re writing dangerous books, sometimes you lose people. (Sob.)

Now the nitty gritty: how do we do it?

We each have our stable of characters, and we are the boss of them. All their words, actions, reactions and feelings are ours to decide. We do not have fights over what a character “should” do, we discuss what a character “would” do and how the heck we’re going to fix the repercussions of any given action. We literally write around each other. We don’t each write a chapter, or a POV scene, or anything like that. We write…paragraphs. Or sentences. Or sometimes words. Sometimes those words go in each other’s sentences.

Our husbands are used to listening to us hash out plots. “What would Joe do if…” “But how would Keith react if…” We don’t get to wing it, or we might be writing two different scenes. Even with careful planning sometimes the story can feel a bit like wrestling something into place, because while Donna and I think almost the same…well, almost is still not completely. Sometimes she’ll write a character saying something that would have never in a million years occurred to me, something I never would have written on my own.

And that’s when it feels a little bit like magic.

I could talk all day about the little details, but sometimes it’s hard to tell just what parts of this people really want to know about. So if you have a burning question about life as one half of Moira Rogers, ask! Nothing is sacred…well, a few things are sacred. Like the true location of the Bat Cave. But other than that, ask away!

CONTEST! Three winners will be chosen to win copies of anything from Moira Rogers’ backlist But you have to work for it! Leave a comment on this post with your questions about Bree and Donna’s writing process and you’ll be entered into the contest!

Thanks to Bree and Donna for stopping by and quacking with us!

Please welcome to the Pond today the wonderfully talented and funny Heidi Betts.  Her latest book Tangled Up in Love was released on February 3, 2009, and is the first book in her Chicks with Sticks trilogy. Love Me, Love Me Knot will be released in August 2009 and Knock Me For a Loop will follow in February of 2010.  

The new trilogy is based around a knitting group of which the heroines of each book, Ronnie, Jenna, and Grace, are members. Their respective heroes are Dylan, Gage, and Zack who are friends. The fun starts in Tangled Up in Love when Ronnie and Dylan, who work for competing newspapers, issue challenges via their papers to one other in a contest of man versus woman, which includes white water rafting, bungee jumping, mountain climbing, and, of course, learning to knit. And that’s only the beginning!

Now learn a little about the author who knits romance just as well as she does an Angora sweater.

I can’t thank Laura enough for inviting me to chat here at The Good, The Bad, & The Unread. When she first asked me to visit, she said that “Make a Splash” was pretty much an open slate & I could talk about anything I like. Ah, the power. It was tempting to take her up on the offer and do something truly wicked and wild. (For the record, I reserve the right to do that at some point in the future.)

Unfortunately, I recently wrapped up what we at my WIPs and Chains blog call the “Blog Tour 2009” and I haven’t quite recovered yet. The only things going through my brain are “Ohmigod, I’m so far behind on my next book!” and “It’s February already? Really? Where did January go?” So, being the generous and benevolent Lady of the Whip that she is, Laura offered to send me a series of interview questions instead. Ah, better. This I can do, I thought. And then I saw her questions. Lady of the Whip, indeed…she certainly doesn’t pull any punches when it comes to discovering her favorite author’s deepest, darkest secrets. (note to Heidi–shhhhh!! everyone here thinks I’m sweet and nice. And you can blame Sandy M. for the questions. Really, I am totally innocent here. *g*)

But anyway, here it goes:

Lightning Round:
- dark or milk chocolate? Dark may be better for you, but milk chocolate is the yummiest. Guess I’ll just have to get my antioxidants somewhere else.

- smooth or chunky peanut butter? Smooth, definitely. I like my peanut butter to get stuck to the roof of my mouth, not stuck in my teeth. *g*

- heels or flats? Well, I like fancy heels best, but since they pretty much make me look like a giraffe on roller skates when I wear them, I’ve gotta go with the comfy, casual, blister-free answer of flats.

- coffee or tea? Tea! All day, every day! Hot’s okay, but I like it better cold. Coffee—gack! I don’t know how anybody drinks that stuff.

- summer or winter? Neither. I prefer Spring & Fall. Summer gets too hot and winter gets too cold. Though the “not-too” times of each of those seasons are okay.

- mountains or beach? Oh, man, that’s a toughie. I love the mountains because of the seclusion and nature. Of course, that’s only if there’s a nice, comfortable cabin with heat, electricity, and running water nearby. If we’re talking sleeping on the ground and dealing with all kinds of bugs and critters… No, thank you. I love, love, love the beach. Except for the sun. But sand and water are wonderful. Of course, that’s as long as you don’t go too far into the water, because then we might be talking sharks, jelly fish, barracudas, and even sharp shells or stones that would cut the bottoms of my delicate feet.

- mustard or mayonnaise? Mayo! Hate, hate, hate mustard! (Except the wee bit they put on McDonald’s hamburgers. Don’t ask me why, but I can tolerate it there.)

- flowers or candy? Ahhh, can’t I have both? Please?!? Okay, I’m picky about my candy, so if I can’t have the good stuff, I’d rather have flowers. But I prefer live flowers over cut ones, so if they were just going to die in a week, I might have to go back to candy.

- pockets or purse? A purse. No, not a purse, a tote. And not just any tote…a bag the size of a small elephant. I need a dolly to drag my purse around most days, but God forbid I be without anything I might need when I’m out and about.

- Pepsi or Coke? Coke! Diet Cherry Coke, if you’ve got it.

- ebook or print? Print. Gotta have a book in my hands. Gotta be able to see and stroke the cover, turn the pages, smell the ink and glue that hold them all together. Gotta be able to mark my place with a good old-fashioned bookmark and come back to it later.

-knit or crochet? Ah-ha! A trick question. You’re trying to get me into trouble, aren’t you? Considering that I’m currently writing and promoting a series of sexy-hot and crazy-funny romance novels that are all about knitting, I’m going to have to go with KNITTING! (Ha! You can’t trip me up that easily, Laura!) Although I do actually crochet, too, and enjoy it just…I mean almost as much.

Some other fun stuff:

1. What is your favorite word?

Floccinaucinihilipilification. It’s the longest word in the English language (not counting medical terms and such) and I’ve always loved it, mostly because I can pronounce it. When my mother was teaching, if she heard a student using the F-word, she would take them aside and tell them that they could either take detention or sit and write her F-word—complete with definition—25 or 50 times. I just always thought it was fun to say—and fun to watch people’s eyes glaze over when you use it in conversation. *g*

2. What is your least favorite word?

No. I do not like to be told I can’t do or have something. I mean I really don’t like it. And it usually just makes me angry enough or more determined to figure how I darn well can do or have what it is I want.

3. What turns you on creatively, spiritually or emotionally?

Would it be wrong of me to say Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson? Oh, come on. Look at that man and tell me he doesn’t get your juices flowing in every way. 

4. What turns you off creatively, spiritually or emotionally?

I’m going to sound like a total snob here, but I have to admit that bad writing and bad grammar drive me batty. I’m not a complete Grammar Nazi; I mean, I won’t jump down your throat if you end a sentence with a preposition and even—gasp!—do it myself from time to time. But I refuse to go through the “10 Items or Less” lines at the grocery store on principle and nearly go into spasms over the misuse of who/that. I know, I know, but it’s a deeply ingrained pet peeve. I think it comes from being raised by two school teachers (see Question 9), one of whom went to parochial school, where bad grammar meant getting your knuckles rapped by a ruler-wielding nun. *shudders*

5. What sound or noise do you love?

I love to listen to my cats purr. I don’t know how they do it and each one is unique, but it’s just adorable and melts my heart every time—even when I’m mad at them.

6. What sound or noise do you hate?

Well, nails on a chalk board is right up there. And, omg, the sound of a nail file (the gritty, sandpaper kind) scraping against anything but an actual fingernail. Sends shivers down my spine every single time.

7. What is your favorite curse word?

I’m the daughter of a Navy man, so I have lots of favorite curse words—not many of which are fit for print. “Son of a bitch” is a favorite and oft-muttered swear in my house, and I’ve also always been fond of “funky butt-lovin,” (from Rookie of the Year), which is exceptionally satisfying to use when you stub your toe or such.

8. What profession other than your own would you like to attempt?

Other than exotic dancer or space cowgirl? I’d have to say something that has me working with animals—veterinarian, marine biologist, Head Clubber who clubs the [dirty word]s who club seals…

9. What profession would you not like to do?

Just about anything Mike Rowe has done on Dirty Jobs. Yuck. I also would not like to be a teacher in any way, shape, or form. Both of my parents were teachers, and I don’t know how they do it. I swear, I would kill half my class within the first twenty minutes (yes, even the younger kids) and run screaming from the building in forty.

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

Well, a warm welcome would be nice. I certainly wouldn’t be happy if He said, “Hi, you’re dead, but you also took a wrong turn. You want to go back the way you came, hang a left instead of a right, and follow the escalator going dooooowwwwwn.” Yikes! Other than that, I would really like to know that I’m going to get to be with my dad and all my babies again, and I don’t care if He tells me that or just points me in the right direction.

It’s me again. Heidi has generously offered up to three (3) posters and a book from her backlist.  Even though this doesn’t include Tangled Up in Love,  there are several other very good books to choose from. You have all weekend to enter and we’ll have Heidi draw the winners on Monday (2/22/09).  In the mean time, if you are looking for a really good book to read and keep you warm on the cold winter nights, pick up Tangled Up in Love and check out Heidi’s blogs at WIPs and Chains and Must Love Yarn.

Thanks for hanging out in the pond with us, Heidi!!

Sunday Afternoon at the B&N Café

Almost every Sunday afternoon I flee my house of chaos for the Barnes & Noble Café. It’s a long drive for me, so usually I go to a local coffee shop to get a little uninterrupted writing time. However, I prefer the B&N Café because you have to pay for Internet access (at my little local coffee shop, it’s free), which means I don’t buy it and I actually write instead of procrastinate by checking my email, playing on Livejournal or Twitter or hunting down eBook pirates (my own private and pointless obsession).

The chairs are fairly comfortable, the staff is friendly (I’m in the B&N Café as I write this, in fact), and once I plug myself into my iPod, the auditory environment is conducive to writing. I like to try and get a table that backs up to a wall so no one can read over my shoulder, especially if I’m about to write a sex scene…which I intend to do right after I finish writing this post. Today I snagged a wall table, so today is a good B&N Café day.

Muted conversation fills my ears, since I don’t have my ear buds in yet. So does the gurgling sound of the café staff making coffee. The scent of that coffee fills my nose, along with the faint aroma of the woman’s perfume beside me. I can also hear the clinking of change at the register, the beeping of machinery, the sound of a child crying in another part of the store.

Today I’m wearing a comfy black sweater with black running pants and fuzzy red socks. On a totally different topic, Limecello gave me a list of possible subjects to write on and one of them was about my favorite kind of socks. You’re probably all just dying to know that I prefer slipper socks and wear them most of the time in the winter. As a full time writer, I can get away with that. Comfort is my first priority. A fashionista, I am not.

Back to the topic at hand, I get a lot of writing done at the cafe. I write for a while, then stop and think, staring out over the top of my laptop with my eyes unfocused. I’m not really seeing anything because I’m deep in thought, thinking about the scene I’m writing or how I need the next part of this particular chapter to show something significant about a certain character, set up for an upcoming battle or black moment, or show how the relationship between my hero and heroine is evolving. I do a lot of staring and thinking when I write.

That doesn’t mean I’m not aware of my surroundings. On the contrary, I’m hyper-aware of everyone around me. I think most writers are. Writers observe. They take in all people and events around them and consider them. For a writer everything and everyone around them is potential inspiration or story fodder. . Today there’s a woman next to me who is dressed in a stylish fawn colored sweater dress and expensive looking thigh-high boots (her perfume smells expensive too). She’s reading a stack of books on divorce. I can’t help but wonder about her, who she married and why they’re divorcing. I can’t help but make up stories to fill in the gaps about what I don’t know about her. . What about that man in his mid twenties in the corner who is pounding away on his laptop like me? Writer? Or grad student?

And there’s clutch of women in the corner that’s obviously a book club since they all have the same mass market paperback on the table beside them-with the title I can’t quite make out – and who are clearly having a wonderful time and not talking about books.

The man at two o’clock is flipping through a book by Mike Huckabee and has Sean Hannity sitting jowl-to-jowl with Michael Savage (books by those men, I mean, not the actual men). He keeps furtively checking out the well-heeled women who is reading the books on divorce.

The chess players are here again. They’re here every single week-the same people scowling down at the boards, scratching their heads and trying to figure out their next move. Another group of women are in the corner. It’s a study group for library science, unless I miss my guess. I can tell their relationship is tentative and new (probably the first time they’ve studied together) because of the nervous chatter and the self-conscious laughter. It’s the kind of communication one engages in when one is not totally sure. . It strikes me every week how many people come here to do things other than drink coffee and consider their purchases. People come to study, write novels or dissertations. They use it as a library, pulling books up next to themselves along with a pad of paper and pen to take notes. The woman on my other side is angry that so many people are making noise (the noise culprits are the library science group and the two tables in front of us who have struck up a conversation about football) and is hissing into her cell phone about how people should be quieter here. of one’s audience.

Except, of course, this isn’t a library…it’s a bookstore. Me? I just put my ear buds in and turn to my sex scene….

*P.S.-  Anya, because she is awesome, has very kindly offered to give away an autographed copy of her recent release Witch Heart to one lucky commenter. Not that you wouldn’t have stopped by to chat with her anyway, right?

Jill has fast become one of my favorite authors.  I adore her novels and think she’s hilarious. Her blog is one of the first I check every morning.  She has a new contemporary series coming out in ’09 that I can’t wait to read [syb note: Instant Attraction is FAB!].  If you haven’t already, be sure to pick up one of her novels.

 What am I thankful for in the romance community?  The warm, the generosity, the spirit of the readers.  Writing is a darn lonely business.  I mean, sure, I get to do it wearing my bunny slippers and Alpha Man’s basketball sweats (Clean, of course.  Well, usually …)  But sometimes it gets tiring being all alone, and my characters are only so much company.  So the companionship and camaraderie I get from the romance readers on my daily blog is invaluable.  They make me laugh, make me feel good, and frankly, they give far more than they get.  Love them, couldn’t do it without them. 

– Jill Shalvis

The authors of the Unlaced anthology, Jaci Burton, Jasmine Haynes, Joey W. Hill and Denise Rossetti are guest blogging at Book Binge today about the good and the bad about writing for an anthology. They’re also giving away a signed copy of Unlaced from the commenters on the post.  Don’t miss out on your chance to win!

Bingeaduckia Guest Authors: The Good and The Bad About Writing For An Anthology

For a second chance to win, check out the excerpts being posted today and tomorrow.

Part 1
Part 2 (with Contest)

Sometimes I think we, as a romance community, forget to take a minute to think about the things we’re thankful for.  We get so wrapped up in our own little blogging world we don’t think about all the things we’re grateful for.

When we started putting together this event I emailed some of our fellow bloggers and asked if they’d be willing to write up a brief paragraph about the things they’re thankful for.  The response was overwhelming and so humbling.  Throughout the week I’ll be posting their responses – both here and at Book Binge.  I hope you enjoy reading them as much as I did.

________________

Where do I begin?  I took a huge break (about 9 years) from reading in general when I had my children.  Sure I’d picked up a book in that time but never to the point where I just wanted to keep reading more and more.  I’d been reading romance novels since I was 13 and my mom told me to stop being bored and read a book and gave me a Harlequin.  Although I read romance before I didn’t break too far out of the authors I knew and loved.  When I got back into reading about 18 mos. ago I met some wonderful women on a forum who then turned me on to their blogs.  From those blogs I met some more wonderful people who I just love reading about…their lives as well as what they’re reading and what they think about those books.  I’m so thankful that I got to meet some great blogging friends but also that I’ve been turned on to a whole new set of authors and sub-genre’s  that I wouldn’t have probably tried otherwise.

-Tracy
Tracy’s Place

Let’s see…what am I thankful for.  Well, I have to tell you, nobody that lives near me, family or friends read, much less read romance.  So, I have absolutely no one to talk to about the books I read.  I first started communicating with others online through the message boards at Romantic Times and All About Romance.  Then I started to visit members blogs.  Kristie J’s was the first one and from there I met other bloggers.  Then in January I decided to try my hand at my own blog.  I have met so many wonderful people on message boards and blogs.  Sometimes I feel as if I know more about fellow readers than I do my own family.  I love having the ability to hop online anytime I want and find a place to chat about the current book I am reading or just books in general.  I have even branched out of my comfort zone a time or two and tried a new genre or a new author and have been pleasantly surprised.  I have been given so many good recommendations, I will probably never be able to read them all in my lifetime.  I give my sincere thanks to the online romance community.

- Jill
Romance Rookie

 I am so thankful for my blog friends.  They are always ready with words of encouragement or compassion and a listening “ear” when I vent.  Their posts make me smile and share part of their worlds with me.  They also give out fabulous recommendations for books   Within my circle of blogs that I read I have noticed that we can also agree to disagree about books on occasion.  Everyone has their own tastes and preferences and are respectful of that.  I have made some great online friends and am so thankful for all of them.

- Kris
The Reading Spot

________

What about you?  What are you thankful for?  

I come from a big Italian family. Holidays at our house are–as I’m sure you can imagine–crazy. It’s loud, rowdy…and filled with love.

Our little romance community is much like that, I think. We have fights and drama, but we also have a lot of love. Books brought us together, but the love is what keeps us going. Love of reading, love and mutual respect for each other. We might have fights now and again (or as I like to call them..debates) but at the end of the day we’re all here for one common purpose: To share our love of books.

This week, we wanted to remind everyone that it’s all about the love.

In honor of the romance community, Book Binge and The Good, The Bad and The Unread have teamed up to bring you Bingeaduckia!!

We hope you’ll join us in celebrating the online romance community. We’ll have games, excerpts, book reviews, guest spots and giveaways. Did I mention the giveaways?

In keeping with our “together” theme this week, we’re featuring anthologies. To kick things off, I want to know:

Do you read anthologies? Why or why not? What are the best anthologies you’ve read this year? What anthos are you looking forward to in the upcoming months?

The celebration is going on until next Wednesday. Be sure to come back and play with us as the week progresses.

The current crop of historical romances got you down?  Tired of being stuck in a Regency ball room, or on the back of a horse with a cowboy who hasn’t had a proper bath in two weeks?  Well, Amanda McCabe‘s launch title for the Harlequin Historical Undone line is the cure for what ails you.  In honor of the novella’s launch, Amanda agreed to swim by the pond to give readers the scoop on her intrepid Spanish heroine’s determination to start a new life.

A terrible shipwreck gives the maidservant Maria the chance to taste life as a wealthy countess in exotic Santo Domingo. But what will happen when her deception is discovered by the sexy, mysterious-and very dangerous-Carlos de Alameda?

Santo Domingo in 1535 is full of exotic treasures, and perilous secrets. Maria hopes to leave her old life behind in Spain when she travels there as a maidservant, only to see her hopeful plans destroyed in a shipwreck where she is the only survivor. When she is mistaken for Contessa Isabella, she makes the hard decision to go on with the masquerade-until she is faced with Carlos de Alameda.

Spanish nobleman, official at the island’s royal fortress-and spy for the King-Carlos has battled against every danger in the New World. But he has never met anyone like the beautiful contessa, and he is determined to discover her every secret, by any means necessary-even seduction…

My January ‘o9 book, High Seas Stowaway, features Carlos de Alameda as a minor character.  I was very intrigued with him, and happy to get a chance to tell ‘his’ story! I got to a do a lot of fascinating research for these stories, and only some it involved tropical beaches! I had to learn about ships, caravels in particular, navigation and mapmaking, the early history of the Spanish in the New World, pirates, and, er, rum.

Readers, intrigued by Amanda’s research?  Be sure to check out more at the “History Behind the Book” section at her website.

In honor of her launch title for the Harlequin Historical Undone line, Bronwyn Scott has stopped by the pond to tell us all about her novella, Libertine Lord, Pickpocket Miss.  A hero on a secret mission, a heroine with plenty of secrets of her own, and plenty of witty banter to go around!  What could possibly go wrong for the intrepid romantic couple?

Sophie DuPlessy has everything to gain. Julian Burke has nothing to lose.

Vienna of the 1820′s is Europe’s new glittering capital both in culture and in politics. No one knows the potential of such a setting better than Sophie DuPlessy. Europe has been ravaged by Napoleon’s wars and re-structured by the Vienna conferences and Europe’s premier statesmen. In the aftermath, kingdoms have been absorbed, national boundaries have been redrawn. In the wake of such upheaval, heirlooms have been lost. In certain circles of dubious repute, Sophie DuPlessy has earned a reputation for discreetly recovering such objects. Now, she’s been hired by an Italian count to retrieve a set of jewels, a supposed heirloom of the family. This will be her last job. The reward promised for recovering the jewels guarantees her the financial resources to re-make her life as a horse breeder. But she’s not the only one looking for them.

Julian Burke, second son of an earl, has been sent on crown business to Vienna to ferret out the truth to the rumors that an heirloom once part of the royal treasury during the time of Charles II has surfaced in Vienna. When the Crown wants something badly, Julian Burke is the man for the job. Julian is the most dangerous of men; a man with nothing to lose. No wife to protect, no estate to risk, a fortune so large he cannot be bribed, no care for his reputation and according to most-no heart to break. He is unassailable when it comes to blackmail and other forms of traditional leverage.

But Sophie DuPlessy is about to change that!

One interesting research tid-bit I enjoyed working with for this story was the neighborhoods of Vienna. The neighborhood Sophie lives in is still marked with a lantern today. In her time, the neighborhood housed bakers and other middle working class citizens.

Readers, be sure to visit the Bronwyn’s blog starting November 1 for links to a few of the research sites she used for the story!

Nicola Cornick is quickly becoming one of my favorite “new-to-me-where-the-heck-have-I-been” authors.  To celebrate the launch of the Harlequin Historical Undone line, she’s stopped by the pond to tell us all a little bit about her Undone title, The Unmasking Of Lady Loveless.

The Unmasking of Lady Loveless is set in the same fictional Yorkshire village, Peacock Oak, that I used for the background for my July HQN release Unmasked and also features some of the same characters. I wanted to write a Christmas story and the idea of the beautiful Yorkshire countryside under the snow seemed the perfect setting!

Research Tidbit:

Being a Yorkshire girl by birth I feel very happy when I write books that are set in that county. It’s like going home! One Christmas tradition I particularly liked when I researched the story was the idea of the Standing Pie. This was a huge pie filled with turkey or game, which had a separate pastry crust that stood up on its own! Apparently the pies were huge and one made for the Lord Chancellor in 1832 was so big that it collapsed under its own weight! When I read about this I remembered that my grandmother used to make pies and cook the pastry crust separately. She must have been following this very ancient tradition.

Summary

Erotic author Lady Loveless is scandalising the Ton with her shocking tales that are based on the real life high jinks of society. Engagements are being broken, inheritances lost as a result of her wicked pen and the gentlemen decide that enough is enough – she may spin the most naughtily seductive tales, but Lady Loveless must be stopped!

Lord Alexander Beaumont is convinced that the outrageous Lady Loveless is none other than his estranged wife Melicent, for the manuscripts are coming from the Yorkshire village where Melicent took refuge after the end of their brief, bitter marriage. Alex travels to Yorkshire determined to unmask his errant wife and put a stop to her wicked ways. But when he reaches the beautiful village of Peacock Oak, Alex finds that Melicent – and Lady Loveless – are not what they seem. Will Christmas in the beautiful Yorkshire countryside reunite Alex and the bride he lost years before?

Readers, ever lament that they don’t publish medieval romances like they used to?  Are you like me and ever wondered why Ireland isn’t used as a setting for historical romances more?  Well have no fear, because Michelle Willingham is busy killing two birds with one stone!  And with her latest novella for the Harlequin Historical Undone line, she’s hit the jackpot with a title that would make any Harlequin Presents author weep with jealousy.  In honor of it’s release, Michelle stopped by the pond to give us the scoop behind her story’s inspiration.

Upon a trip to Dublin two years ago, I had visited the archaeological museum in order to research medieval artifacts. But while inside, I found an amazing display of Viking lore. With further reading, I learned that a Norse King, Magnus the Barefoot, attempted to take over Dublin in 1101. Such a daring move made him a fascinating historical figure, and as I plotted my Viking story, I imagined that such a king might indeed be a ruthless and an interesting foe for a Viking warrior.

One of the more tragic stories that I learned about was the massacre at Dunmore Cave, in Kilkenny. During a Viking raid, over 1000 of the Irish were killed, including women and children. The tribesmen and women fled to the cave, where they were caught and killed. It led me to understand the fear that the Irish held for these raids, and how a young woman might feel if a Viking warrior took her.

The Viking’s Forbidden Love-Slave tells the story of Tharand Hardrata, a member of the Norse warrior class who steals an Irish noblewoman from her clan. He intends to trade Aisling Ó Brannon for his sister’s life, after she was taken by King Magnus. If Aisling succeeds in pleasing the king with her body, Tharand believes Magnus will let his sister go. But the Irish captive enslaves him with a pleasure he’d never before known.

Fortunately for my heroine Aisling, Tharand is a man of honor, and with each forbidden moment they share, she learns how very different he is from the stories she heard of Viking warriors, long ago. If you’ve ever wondered what it was like to be carried off by an amazingly hot Viking, then I hope you’ll enjoy this fantasy story!

At the end, Aisling asks Tharand to help her discover what happened to her brothers during the Norse raid. Readers can learn about both brothers in Her Warrior Slave, the story of Kieran Ó Brannon, which is on sale now from Harlequin Historicals.

Readers, for more behind-the-scenes details, be sure to visit Michelle’s fabulous website.

BINGEADUCKIA

…You KNOW You Wanna Know

We have the first three chapters of My Prerogative to post, a contest and some VJ action from mz Sasha White.

MTV doesn’t have anything on us . Well not that they play videos anymore…. which I do honestly plan to post this weekend along with a contest cuz we just got some in the mail to give away! WooT!

And do check out(again) Gwen’s review if you haven’t already

She does what she likes…

…and what she likes is absolutely wicked.

Kelsey Howard is happy with the single life. She has great friends, a fun job tending bar, and a nice apartment. Not to mention the freedom to enjoy a few wild sex games with strangers—the riskier the better. But what she’s really looking for in the darkness is love.

Then Kelsey realizes she’s got an anonymous stranger watching her every move—and every move she makes is arousing them both. In fact, not only is she not scared, she thinks she may have finally found her soul mate. Especially when she meets the mischievous mystery man in the flesh. That’s when the fun and games really start, and Kelsey realizes just how far she’s prepared to go for love.

My Prerogative by Sasha White

My timing was perfect.

I made my way through the crowded tables of Vantage Sports Pub to the patio where my friend waited. I made it to the plastic deck chair waiting for me mere seconds before the waitress arrived with a fresh pitcher of frozen margaritas.

“How was Jamaica?” Dee McDonald asked as my butt hit the chair.

I thought of Marco and the secluded beach escapade. “In a word … delicious.”

Dee was the manager of an Irish pub near the University and my best friend for the past fifteen years, ever since we met in college. Only two years apart in age, and both working in the hospitality industry, we understood each other in ways that only close friends, and other waitresses could. But even Dee only understood that part of me. She didn’t get that I was always searching for- well, searching.

Hell, even I didn’t really know for sure what it was I was searching for. I just knew there had to be more to life than what was in front of me, and I wasn’t going to find out what it was by living by someone else’s rules.

“Only a masochist would go to the Caribbean in August,” Dee said, distracting me from my thoughts.

The server set frosty glasses on the table and Dee poured us each a margarita from the pitcher while I answered.

“It was cheap, and not much hotter than this. Plus, the occasional afternoon thunderstorm cooled things off nicely.” I eyed her. Dee’s brunette hair was streaked blond and cut in a short bob. “And how were things in McDonald-land while I was gone? I like the new haircut by the way. Very playful and summery.”

“Thanks! Last week work sucked, and Jason fell asleep on the sofa every night, but the weekend was great. We got the backyard landscaped and the basement is almost finished. Oh, and Jason picked up a bunch of fitness equipment, including a cross trainer, so instead of meeting at the gym we can work out in the basement if we want.”

I ignored the twinge of longing at the mention of comfortable married life and focused on the second half of what Dee said.

Jason was Dee’s husband, and gorgeous as that man was, I didn’t want to be working out in any basement.

“Sweetie, you’re forgetting that one of the reasons I work out at the gym is so I can drool over all the hot male hard-bodies that hang out there. What fun would working out in your basement be?”

“Jason will be there, and I know you think he’s hot. He thinks you’re pretty too, so you two can just drool over each other.”

I rolled my eyes. “Get real. Jason can’t see anyone else when you’re around. Not that he’d drool over me anyway.”

It was Dee’s turn to roll her eyes. “You get real, you’re like a cross between a fifties pin-up model and the modern Goth Girl. If Marilyn Monroe was a thirty-something right now, she’d look like you. Well, with black hair. The point is, all you have to do is smile and bat your eyelashes and men drool over you.”

“Yeah?” I couldn’t help myself, Dee had hit a sensitive spot. “First off, I’m not a goth, I just happen to have a unique sense of style. And second, is that why I’m thirty-five and still single? Because I’m so pretty that all I have to do is smile and men drool?”

“No,” she said and waved her hand dismissively. “You’re still single because you want to be single. Anytime a guy tries to get closer to you than your bed, you sabotage the relationship.”

That was because when men found out how much I enjoyed sex that was all they saw. They stopped seeing me as anything more than a real life blow-up doll, and I wanted more than that. I deserved more than that.

“If I wanted to be single, I wouldn’t have put that stupid personal ad online,” I muttered.

“How’s that going anyway?”

“It’s not.” I watched over Dee’s shoulder as the couple at the table behind her leaned together and kissed. It was a slow, seductive kiss, with the guy cupping the woman’s cheek in his hand as he looked into her eyes. It was the kind of kiss I dreamt about.

“Kelsey?”

“Huh?” I tore my gaze away from the couple and focused on the conversation. Where were we? Oh yeah, the online thing. I drained the last of my margarita and made light of it all. “After chatting online to more guys than I thought possible, I gave it up as hopeless about a month ago.”

“Hopeless? Really?”

Well, except for Randy. But Randy wasn’t a boyfriend, he was occasional … exercise. He filled a need, that was it. But I didn’t say that. Dee might be my closest friend, but there were some things even I preferred to keep private.

“Yeah, only a few of the men were interesting enough to actually meet for a drink. And of course, the ones I’m attracted to aren’t interested in me, and vice-versa. It’s easier to just stick with what I have.” Which is a lover who was happy to come when I called, share a drink or two, fuck, then leave.

“What about the gym?” Dee asked.

“No one ever hits on me at the gym.” I caught the waitress’s eye and she nodded. Another drink was on the way.

“Maybe if you didn’t wear headphones someone would try to chat you up.”

“I tried that actually. And you know what I noticed?”

“What?”

“That everyone else was wearing headphones.”

Dee shook her head and I laughed.

“What about the grocery store?” Dee said determinedly. “You love to cook and I know you hit the market at least twice a week.”

I waved my hand. “Urban myth.”

“Ha! You’re just too damn picky.”

That got to me.

“I’m not too picky,” I snapped. “I just know myself, and what I need to be happy. So you’re right, I am single because I want to be.”

“What do you need, then?”

Tequila had loosened my tongue enough that I didn’t even think about it. “I want someone who will see below the surface and be in love with me. I want someone who wants more than to see me happy. I want someone who wants to make me happy.”

“I want someone that makes me want to please him. I know it’s almost archaic but I want someone to cook for. Someone to sit on the couch and veg with as well as someone I can give a look to who’ll be able to read it. He’ll know when I want to kill him, and when I want to ravish him. Or when I want him to slam me against the wall and have his way with me.” And I want him to accept that sometimes, he alone won’t be enough for me.

Dee’s brow puckered. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting the fantasy, Kels. But you have to understand that not everyone gets it.”

“Did it ever occur to you that not everyone gets it because not everyone is willing to wait for it?”

Dee stared at me blankly. I’d shocked her. Shit, I’d shocked myself. My façade was cracking and emotions were starting to leak out. I had to stop that. Now.

All I’d ever really admitted to myself was that I’d rather be on my own than waste my time in a relationship that wasn’t everything I wanted. Everything I needed. Self analysis was good, sometimes it even helped, but I did not need anyone thinking I was some lonely chick who needed a man to make her life complete. I worked damn hard to convince everyone who knew me that I was completely happy with every aspect of my single life. I worked even harder to convince myself.

The shock in Dee’s eyes had faded and I could clearly see concern building. Shit.

Relief swept over me when the waitress set a fresh jug of margaritas down. Dee grimaced. I poured myself another.

“I work in a nightclub, Dee. I see people fucking around and cheating on their partners all the time. That’s what happens when people settle, and I’m not going to do that. I have to believe there’s someone out there for me. Someone who will love the hyperactive, outgoing, and flirty me, as much as the somewhat dark and twisted me. If there isn’t, then I don’t want anyone.” I grinned at my friend. “Not on a permanent basis anyway.”

Dee laughed and shook her head. “That’s probably best. It’ll happen when you least expect it, it always does. Besides, you’re too busy traveling all over and playing sex games with your bed buddies to settle down right now. If you weren’t single you wouldn’t be able to do that. You certainly wouldn’t have been able to pick up some stranger and fuck him on the beach in Jamaica.” She winked at me. “Lucky bitch. How was it?”

I choked on a mouthful of margarita. “How do you know I even did that?”

“You said you were going to, and you always do what you say you’re going to. Now stop stalling and tell me how it was. I’m a boring old married woman, I need to live vicariously through you.”

“Boring maybe, but not old,” I stated firmly. “I’m older than you and I’m not old. So that means you’re not old yet, either.”

Dee raised her glass and tilted her head. “Point taken.”

The waitress came by to check on us and I ordered a couple of tequila shots.

“One shot, and that’s it,” Dee warned. “The last time we got into the shooters, Jason wouldn’t talk to me for the rest of the weekend. Funny how he gets mad at me when I have a few drinks, yet every time he comes home from playing golf, he’s hammered.”

I bit my tongue and took another sip of frosty lime loveliness. Dee had no idea how much I envied her relationship with Jason, and I wanted to keep it that way. There were times when booty calls and bed buddies were fun and exciting, but there were also times when coming home to an empty apartment sucked.

The waitress dropped off the tequila shots and I was quick to reach for mine. “To a man who loves you,” I said and raised my glass in a toast.

Dee raised her glass and clinked it against mine. “To living out the fantasy of fucking a stranger on a beach.”

For the next couple of hours Dee and I talked about work, clothes, Jamaica, Marco, and our hopes for the upcoming hockey season. The pub crowd thinned as time passed and people moved on to whatever plans they had for the evening. Just after four o’clock, Dee announced it was time to go.

“You go,” I replied. “I’m going to stay a while longer.”

She dug some cash out of her wallet and put it on the table beneath her empty glass. “Must be nice. I get to go home and cook dinner for a man who’ll probably just fall asleep on the couch the minute he’s done eating.”

“So wake him up,” I said, tired of her whining.

“Easier said than done, my friend.”

One of my biggest pet peeves is when people complain about something, yet do nothing to change it. Like a wife complaining about her husband falling asleep on the sofa. As far as I was concerned, where there’s a will, there’s a way. And the easiest way was sometimes the best.

“Use sex. He’s a man, that’ll wake him up.”

“Use sex? Hell, I’d be thrilled to have sex tonight. It’s been almost a week, and last time it was barely over before he started snoring.”

“That’s sad.”

“Tell me about it. We had sex more often before we were married. You’re single and you have more sex than we do.”

That really is sad.

If I were married, you’d bet the man would be giving it to me every night. Otherwise divorce would be inevitable – unless he didn’t mind me having sex with others. I could probably live with that.

I gave my head a shake. It was time to focus on Dee. “So liven it up.” I told her. “Wake him up in a way he’ll never forget, and maybe he’ll be a little more energetic for the rest of the night.”

Dee’s eyes lit up and she leaned forward, her purse still clutched in her lap. “Tell me, Oh Wise Wild One, how should I do that?”

Excitement rippled through me.

I loved sex. I thought about sex all the time. Positions, scenarios, certain people, combinations of people, different ways to masturbate, different kinks. Over the years I’d found that there were few problems or issues that either alcohol or sex couldn’t cure.

Temporarily anyway …I was still working on the long term cure.

Mind you, falling asleep on the sofa sounded short term to me. “Do you guys ever role play?”

Her brow puckered. “Role play? As in the Naughty Nurse and her bedridden patient?”

I laughed. “Yeah, that’s one type of role playing. You guys ever do anything like that?”

“We tried it once, but I couldn’t stop laughing.”

Dee and I have been friends for a long time, and while she wasn’t as … open as I was, I remembered our drunk partying nights pretty clearly. She wasn’t as angelic as her big brown eyes led people to believe either.

“After dinner, tell him you’re going to the bedroom, and be sure to give him the look.”

“The look?”

“Yeah. The one that says ‘Follow me, I’m horny.’”

“Oh, that look.” Dee laughed. “Okay. Got it.”

“When you’re upstairs, find some sexy lingerie – matching bra and panties, garter and thigh high’s, baby doll nightgown – whatever you have that you know gets him hard and will make him drool.”

A secretive smile spread across Dee’s lips and I knew she instantly had an outfit in mind.

“If he hasn’t followed you into the bedroom by the time you’ve changed and are ready, then go get out the vacuum.”

“The vacuum?”

“If he’s asleep on the sofa, it’ll wake him up. If he’s not, he’ll still notice you. Just go about the cleaning, as if you had on sweatpants and a T-shirt. Bending here, stretching there.” I gave her a stern look. “But ignore him.”

Dee’s eyes were round and she was grinning like an idiot. “Oh my God,” she said. “That will drive him absolutely nuts.”

“There you go.” I nodded. “The rest is up to you, but I suggest if you have to take out the vacuum, you make him work for it.”

We shared another chuckle and Dee jumped up. “Okay, I’m outta here. I’ll call you.”

“I’m gonna want details.”

We have the first three chapters of My Prerogative to post, a contest and some VJ action from mz Sasha White.

MTV doesn’t have anything on us . Well not that they play videos anymore….

And do check out Gwen’s review if you haven’t already

She does what she likes…

…and what she likes is absolutely wicked.

Kelsey Howard is happy with the single life. She has great friends, a fun job tending bar, and a nice apartment. Not to mention the freedom to enjoy a few wild sex games with strangers—the riskier the better. But what she’s really looking for in the darkness is love.

Then Kelsey realizes she’s got an anonymous stranger watching her every move—and every move she makes is arousing them both. In fact, not only is she not scared, she thinks she may have finally found her soul mate. Especially when she meets the mischievous mystery man in the flesh. That’s when the fun and games really start, and Kelsey realizes just how far she’s prepared to go for love.

My Prerogative by Sasha White

The flight home was smooth and easy. After I passed through customs and caught sight of the mob at baggage claim, I was doubly glad I’d packed light.

Heading through the automatic doors, I ignored the crowd of people eagerly waiting for arrivals to well … arrive. No one there was waiting for me.

It was late afternoon but the sun was shining down on Vancouver. The sky was clear and the air was so humid my hair began to wilt and go flat immediately. It didn’t bother me though; I just reached into my purse for a couple of elastics and made two pigtails. Not many women my age could get away with the style, but I didn’t look my age, and I certainly didn’t feel it, so why care?

I knew the airport’s parking lot layout well, so it took me no time to find my car. Dropping my bags on the passenger seat of the little red Camry, I climbed in, rolled down the window and cranked up the tunes. I bopped along mindlessly to the music for the forty-five minute drive home, weaving in and out of the busy Saturday afternoon traffic but not letting the heat or the cranky drivers on the road get to me.

An hour after my feet touched the ground I was strolling into my apartment and dropping my bag on the floor while my stomach growled angrily. A quick peek into the fridge showed only a bottle of wine and a tub of margarine.

Why the hell hadn’t I stopped at McDonalds or something on the way home? Smart Kelsey. Way to think ahead.

There’s nothing special about my apartment, other than the fact that it’s all mine. I’d spent some time and money making it the best it could be, and that was a nice semi-stylish place with an eclectic collection of comfortable furniture, and all the amenities.

The thought of coming home to a messy place always had me on a cleaning spree the week before I went on any trip and this last one had been no different. When I glanced around this time I noted that it looked as neat and clean as it had been when I left.

It was nice to come home to a clean place, but the hollowness of the empty apartment was a bit too much for me so I dug out my iPod and put it in its cradle. Soon Dave Matthews was chasing the silence away and I reached for the phone.

I’d just finished ordering pizza for delivery and was opening the bottle of wine when there was knock on the door. Yay! Someone came to welcome me home. Not.

Corkscrew still in hand, I opened it to one of the downstairs tenants.

“Hi Manny, what can I do for you?”

A twenty-dollar bill was waved in front of my face. “My wife, she need the laundry tokens.”

Manny was from Chile, and had lived on the first floor of the three-story building for the past twelve years. He and his wife were quiet and clean, and the first ones to welcome me to the complex when I’d moved in five years earlier, and I really liked them. Having neighbors who knew my name and were willing to water my plants while I was away made me feel a part of the place. “Sure. Wait right here.”

I went to the kitchen and pulled the little plastic case from the cupboard. I was counting out tokens when Manny stepped into the open doorway. “Our kitchen sink is still dripping, Ms. Kelsey. It’s very loud and keeps me awake at night. When will it get fixed?”

“I told you before. You have to phone Paul. He’s the head of the condo board and in charge of things until the new building manager is here next month. I’m just taking care of the tokens and the basic maintenance for this month. I have nothing to do with repairs.”

“Two weeks ago I call El Presidente. He said he’d call a repair man, but I’ve not heard nothing, so I ask you again.”

I shook my head and handed him the tokens with a soft smile. “I’m sorry, I haven’t heard anything. I know it’s annoying, but apparently the guy that the condo board hired is worth waiting for, and after the last manager, we need to make sure this new one know’s what he’s doing.”

“That’s true,” he said, nodding his head thoughtfully. “That last guy did nothing but drink. He tried to fix the leak, and it only get worse.”

“Less than a month to go, Manny.” I ushered him out of the doorway. “I’ll make sure when I meet the new building manager that your faucet is first on his ‘To Do’ list.”

I closed the door behind the grumbling old guy and went back to my bottle of wine. Sure I’d agreed to clean the building and hand out laundry tokens for the six weeks they were without a manager, but that was it. I was a bartender, not a handym- handy woman.

Two minutes later I was sitting down with wine glass in hand and the phone rang. I recognized Randy’s number on the caller ID and decided I wasn’t in the mood for a visit. Strange, normally a visit from my occasional and very adventurous lover was welcome, but right then, I just wanted to be alone with my wine.

Sunday was my day to get organized again before I returned to the regular programming of my uneventful life.

Still feeling pretty relaxed and genial after my holiday, I crawled out of bed around ten A.M. – which was actually early for me, the bartender who rarely went to bed before four in the morning. After a lazy shower I dressed in a casual pair of black walking shorts and a tight tank top that hugged my breasts and showed plenty of my C-cup cleavage. Hair wasn’t something I wanted to deal with so I slipped a ball cap over my plain midnight tresses, and smoothed on some bright red lipstick to finish the look before heading to the grocery store.

Vancouver is a big city, which makes housing in the decent areas pretty expensive. Commercial Drive, my neighborhood, was ethnically diverse and a bit seedy, but the city was working on cleaning it up. Cafés and restaurants were popping up all over and it had turned into a more eclectic, almost artsy area because of the recently restored lofts and buildings.

Grabbing a basket just inside the door, I filled it with pre-washed and cut bag salad, baby carrots, and celery before adding some peaches and heading for the frozen food aisle. Microwave dinners, pizza and a carton of ice cream joined the healthy stuff. A basket full of essentials for a single person.

Staring at the food I’d collected was slighlty depressing and I fought the temptation of the cookie aisle. Temptation won and I added a bag of chocolate chip to my basket. Not a coffee drinker, a pack of Red Bull energy drinks was the final item on my list.

The cashier smiled at me when I started to unload my items onto the conveyor belt and I smiled back. “Hi Kelsey, how are you doing today?” she said when the customer ahead of me was done and walking away.

“Doing good, Maureen. You?”

Living alone made it hard to keep lots of food in my fridge because if I didn’t eat at home every day, the food went bad. Which meant I didn’t buy a lot, but I went food shopping two or three times a week. Since I’d been living in the same apartment for almost five years, and the grocery store was only four blocks away, a couple of the cashiers knew me by name.

I was a regular.

A chuckle bubbled up and Maureen grinned and shook her head in puzzlement. “You’re always in such a good mood.”

I was amused because after bartending for fifteen years I’d always swore I’d never be a ‘regular’ anywhere. Regulars could keep a business going, but by the same token, they could be a real pain in the ass at times. But Maureen didn’t need to hear all that so I just shrugged. “The sun is shining and I have nothing to complain about.”

“Ahh.” The pretty cashier nodded. “Well here’s hoping the rest of the week remains the same for us both.”

She took my money, we said good day to each other and I left with a smile still on my face. I had a date with a pitcher of margaritas I didn’t want to be late for.

We have the first three chapters of My Prerogative to post, a contest and some VJ action from mz Sasha White.

MTV doesn’t have anything on us . Well not that they play videos anymore….

And do check out Gwen’s review if you haven’t already

She does what she likes…

…and what she likes is absolutely wicked.

Kelsey Howard is happy with the single life. She has great friends, a fun job tending bar, and a nice apartment. Not to mention the freedom to enjoy a few wild sex games with strangers—the riskier the better. But what she’s really looking for in the darkness is love.

Then Kelsey realizes she’s got an annonymous stranger watching her every move—and every move she makes is arousing them both. In fact, not only is she not scared, she thinks she may have finally found her soul mate. Especially when she meets the mischievous mystery man in the flesh. That’s when the fun and games really start, and Kelsey realizes just how far she’s prepared to go for love.

My Prerogative by Sasha White

There are few things more enjoyable than lying naked on a sandy beach under a hot sun. Especially in a foreign country where no one knows me and I’m free do whatever, and whomever, I want.

Kelsey Howard, footloose and fancy free, answerable to no one. That was me.

Being single and adventurous made me the envy of many, and I had to admit, there were times when even I thought my life was blessed.

Cute as a kid, pretty as a girl, and then beautiful as a woman.

I do believe people see that when they look at me. I have to believe it, I’ve heard it my whole life. And on some days, I can even look in the mirror and see it. The problem is that I don’t always feel that way. I have a hole inside that needs to be filled, and despite the fact that I know filling it with food, drinks, and casual sex isn’t good, or smart . . . I still do it. I can’t stop myself. It’s the only way I know to fill that emptiness.

So really? Is it wrong if it makes me feel better? Even if it’s just for a little while?

Rising up a bit from my supine position on the beach, my elbows dug comfortably into the sand. I lounged in the heat of the Mediterranean sun and tracked the approach of my companion from behind dark sunglasses. Nope, nothing wrong with it at all.

Ocean water glistened over his bulging muscles as they rippled with every move he made. Hair slicked back and eyes intent on me, he prowled up the beach. Yeah, he was definitely prowling, and I was woman enough to appreciate it.

One of the few things I enjoy in life more than lying on a beach is lying under a well-built man. Both at once was a fantasy I was determined to finally have come true.

Marco was his name, and I’d met him at the hotel bar on my second night here. The all-inclusive resort we were at encouraged hedonistic behavior and after the first night spent watching everyone let loose, I was more than ready for my own sensual adventure. I’d almost given up hope of finding someone I could click with when he’d introduced himself and the sparks flew. Marco had proven to be very adventurous himself – a wonderful choice for my holiday fling.

I took a pull of tequila from the bottle I’d grabbed from the room’s mini-bar and a familiar tingle awoke low in my belly. Marco drew closer and I spread my legs a little wider, knowing he wouldn’t be able to avoid the temptation I presented.

Sure enough, hunger sparked in his dark eyes and he dropped to his knees at my feet. Large masculine hands cupped my bent knees and slid up my thighs, sending more tingles through my system.

“Hello there, stranger,” I said softly.

His teeth flashed in a predatory smile and he began crawling up and over my body until his mouth hovered over mine. “You look good enough to eat,” he said.

I looked to the left and saw no one, and then to the right. There was a couple about fifty yards down the beach, roasting themselves on a blanket and minding their own business, so I lifted my arms and pulled him down on top of me. “So what’s stopping you?”

He chuckled and kissed me hungrily. He tasted faintly of tequila and saltwater from the ocean, so I opened up and enjoyed the way our tongues rubbed together. The cool friction heated my blood and made my sex clench in anticipation. The nude beach we were on was part of the private resort where anything goes, and in that instant I made the decision to live up to my reputation as a wild child and enjoy every second of it.

I tilted my head back, and Marco took the hint, nuzzling his way down my neck. The sound of waves rhythmically lapping at the shore became an erotic symphony as he cupped my breasts and flicked the jeweled hoops there back and forth.

“So pretty,” he crooned. He wrapped his lips around one nipple and sucked hard, his tongue pulling at the piercing.

“Harder,” I urged him. A little pain always heightened the pleasure.

He complied and my hips jerked in response. Yes.

I slid my hands into his hair and nudged him lower. Eager to please, Marco slithered down my body until his talented mouth was hovering over my greedy cunt. His hands cupped my ass, lifting me as his tongue came out and flicked the jeweled hoop that pierced the protective hood of my clit. A sigh of pleasure slipped from between my lips and I pressed him closer.

Sometimes fantasies do come true.

Fabulous author Roxanne St. Claire was kind enough to send us some excerpts before she left to go out of town. AKA she will not respond to this till she returns… I think… who know what the hell she and Kresley Cole are up too. Still don’t know about the pictures but lucky for you if you like the excerpts you can go pick up the book. And today is even a holiday woot!

Now You Die (The Bullet Catchers, Book 6) by Roxanne St. Claire

TLT: Author’s Pick, Favorite Scene #3:

Former Bullet Catcher and lone wolf investigator Jack Culver is on a mission. Thirty years ago, an innocent woman was convicted of murder. Jack believes he’s found the real killer — but to take down one of the highest legal authorities in the land, he needs access. Serious access. Unfortunately, the one person he knows with that kind of power is his ex-boss and ex-lover, the woman who still haunts his dreams.

Bullet Catchers owner Lucy Sharpe realizes she’s being used for her connections, and she intends to use Jack Culver right back. She’s determined to see justice served, even if that means partnering with the man who once found his way past her iron shields. This time, she’ll be strong enough to avoid Jack’s persuasive touch.

But when passion flares, and they become the killer’s target, Lucy and Jack don’t just break some rules — they shatter them. And that means risking everything: their jobs, their hearts…and their lives.

She handed him the phone and towel and stepped backwards into the spray, dropping her head back to let the water rinse her hair. “So, what do you think of that?” The utter nonchalance of the gesture, and the way her raised arms lifted her breasts kicked him hard.

He reached around the shower door and set the phone and towel on the counter. “I think Dan’s the last person I would have expected to help my cause.”

“Why?” she asked, turning from him to raise her face to the spray, first leaning out to finish her thought. “We’re all on the same team.”

He watched the water cascade down the veil of black hair so long that when she dropped her head back like that, the ends grazed the dimples right above a perfectly shaped ass.

In his boxers, his cock grew hard.

“I had a feeling his Washington connections would help us,” she said, patting the wall for the soap. “And you should be glad. It supports your theory.”

He stripped off the boxers and let them fall to the wet tile, getting right up behind her and under the water.

“I am glad,” he said in her ear, over her slight gasp of surprise as he reached around and closed his hands over her breasts, his palms aching at the sweet hardness of her nipples. “That you are the woman in this shower, and I am the man with you.”

She turned slowly, blinking away water. “Just in case there’s any question, Jack Culver, the man we just talked to on the phone is and always has been my friend.”

“I know–”

“And that’s all.” She put her hands into his now wet hair and pulled his face a little closer to hers. “And I have never shared anything with him about my life. Or my past.”

Fire and relief and need shot low in his belly. “Good,” he growled as he lowered his mouth to kiss her. “I want to be the only one.”

There. He admitted it. He pushed her against the shower wall and seized her waist, gripping her ribcage to hoist her off the ground. “You got that, Luce? The…only…one.”

“Jack–”

He shut her up with another kiss, lifting her just high enough to position his erection between her legs. The only one, his brain screamed. The only one who kissed Lucy and filled Lucy and loved Lucy Sharpe.

Biting her lip, sucking her tongue, he forced her higher against the wall, the water sluicing down his back, adding heat to what was already incendiary.

He hissed a breath between clenched teeth as the head of his cock wedged into her swollen flesh.

She writhed against him, arching her back, taking him deeper with a sweet, strangled plea.

The only one.

Holding her under her arms, he braced his legs on the slippery tile and plunged to the hilt, back bowing as he howled to the ceiling, crazy and helpless and lost in the pleasure.

The only one.

Opening his eyes, he met her scorching gaze, her lips parted around desperate breaths. He devoured her mouth, clutching her ass, forcing her legs to wrap his hips, pumping her right into the wall, both of them lost and desperate and on the very edge of insanity.

The only one.

Her legs clutched as she came, her beautiful, sweet womanly envelope pulsed, and every drop of anything in him slammed his balls into a knot.

The absolutely only fucking one. Ever. Ever.

He grunted as the first blast of wicked hot release gripped him like a burning fingers and squeezed. Water blinded him as he rammed harder and faster, about to detonate.

“Jack. Wait. Don’t. Not inside me.”

Yes inside you.

“No, please, please.”

His grunt turned to a groan of pain as he dug down to the depths for the power to pull out.

Somehow, he dragged his length from her body. Grinding his shaft against her mound, he came hard over her stomach, the water washing away each heavy spurt as he shot and shot and shot until there was nothing left in him.

The water grew luke warm. They slid down the wall to the wet tiles. Their strangled breaths evened out.

And Lucy cupped her hands on his face and forced him to look into her eyes.

“You are the only one,” she whispered, still trembling. “You are.”

Fabulous author Roxanne St. Claire was kind enough to send us some excerpts before she left to go out of town. AKA she will not respond to this till she returns… I think… who know what the hell she and Kresley Cole are up too. I am still crossing my fingers we get pictures.

Now You Die (The Bullet Catchers, Book 6) by Roxanne St. Claire

TLT: Author’s Pick, Favorite Scene #2:

Former Bullet Catcher and lone wolf investigator Jack Culver is on a mission. Thirty years ago, an innocent woman was convicted of murder. Jack believes he’s found the real killer — but to take down one of the highest legal authorities in the land, he needs access. Serious access. Unfortunately, the one person he knows with that kind of power is his ex-boss and ex-lover, the woman who still haunts his dreams.

Bullet Catchers owner Lucy Sharpe realizes she’s being used for her connections, and she intends to use Jack Culver right back. She’s determined to see justice served, even if that means partnering with the man who once found his way past her iron shields. This time, she’ll be strong enough to avoid Jack’s persuasive touch.

But when passion flares, and they become the killer’s target, Lucy and Jack don’t just break some rules — they shatter them. And that means risking everything: their jobs, their hearts…and their lives.

He rested a hip on the chair he’d been in, looking down at her. “Let’s just discuss this one last time for posterity, Ms. Sharpe. We were on an assignment together. Shit got messy. Someone tried to attack the principal. I shot the assailant to stop him at the minute Dan moved out of formation, a fact he fully acknowledges. My bullet hit his back. I did not, contrary to popular opinion, misfire to take down the competition.”

She stared up at him, silent for a full ten seconds. “He’s not your competition,” she finally whispered.

“He’s half in love with you.” He realized, instantly, what that said about what he considered ‘competition.’

“He is not half in love with me,” Lucy said, but the words sounded hollow.

“You’re right. He’s all the way gone.”

“He’s not. We’re friends. Very, very good friends.” She slammed the bottle on the end table and squared her shoulders to rise. “Frankly, it’s none of your damn business.” She added an icy look. “We’re finished tonight.”

He stood. “You can’t dismiss me.”

She did the same, not quite as eye-to-eye now that she’d lost her heels. “I just did.”

“Too bad, Luce, cause I’m not ready to leave.” He dropped his gaze, purposefully honing in on her low, low neckline. “I still don’t know if you were telling the truth before.”

Her breasts rose and fell with a steady breath, the nipples straining the flimsy silk that held them.

“Not tonight, Jack.”

“No? Why’s that, Luce? Because whatever black and nasty misery sent you calling for relief and assistance last night isn’t bothering you now?”

Her arm twitched, as though she actually considered slapping him. Instead she just raised her chin, and met his gaze with one that was near-black. “I have different problems. Work problems.”

“Oh, I see. So you want Dan.”

“I don’t want anyone.” She sidestepped him, reaching to snag his jacket from the back of a chair. She held it out, hooked on one finger. “All I want is for you to leave.”

He flipped it off her finger and let it fall to the floor. “I’ll leave when I’m ready.”

“Oh, don’t go all alpha on me, Jack.” She walked a few steps away, the dress swishing with the movement.

The dress that had nothing underneath.

“It’s three in the morning. Go to sleep.” She copped a totally professional voice and picked up a piece of paper from the table as if it suddenly interested her.

He slapped it out of her hands, his blood pumping hard again, but not from lust.

“Sleep? I don’t do that much better than you do.” He put his hands on her shoulders and lifted her closer to him. “You want to know why?”

She just looked at him.

“Because I just roll around in that bed, thinking about you, thinking about that night.” He pulled her one inch closer. “I just sweat and ache and remember.”

“Lucky you to have such nice memories to keep you awake.”

“What the fuck does that mean? They aren’t nice for you?”

“Other things keep me awake,” she said.

“Like what?” Like Dan.

She closed her eyes. “Go.”

“Like what, Lucy?”

She wrested one shoulder, then the other, from him grip. “Go to bed. Roll around and remember. That’s all I can offer you tonight.”

He balled his fists, working hard, so damn hard, to keep from yanking her into his mouth and devouring her. “Do you want to know what I remember?”

“The sex, I imagine.”

He let out a soft, quiet laugh, touching her chin with his index finger, staying close enough to see the tiny blue vein in her throat jump when he did.

“What I remember,” he whispered, “is how you cried.”

“That’s enough,” she said, her voice low and rough.

“You cried, and not because you had the fuck of a lifetime. Not because you came six, seven, nine times all over me like thunderclaps.”

“Stop it.” She mouthed the words, and he refused the order.

“You cried from raw, real, heart-wrenching pain. Secret pain. Some damn dark place that you fall into once in a while and have a really hard time climbing out of.”

She paled, silent now.

“You cried because you hurt so bad and the only thing that could keep you from sinking into that abyss…was me.”

“Are you finished yet?”

“I want to make a point.”

“Fine. Make it and leave.”

He leaned closer, inches from her face so he could breathe the words onto her lips. “You don’t want Dan Gallagher when you hurt like that. You want me.”

She lifted her chin, and almost met his lips. “Maybe I did. You want a bottle of booze. We all have our crutches.”

“I don’t want to be a crutch.”

She leveled her gaze, her exotic, tilted eyes so black he could see his own reflected in them. “Too bad. That’s what you were that night.”

The words cracked as hard as if she had lifted her hand and slapped him. He felt…stricken.

“You made your point, Culver.”

“Not yet I didn’t.”

He slid his hands up her arms to her shoulders and pulled her straight into his chest, expecting a fight he didn’t get.

He kissed her fiercely, gripping her into his so completely he could feel every bone and muscle and, God, curve of her body.

She went limp, infuriating him by not responding.

He delved his tongue into her mouth, and she let him, but still didn’t kiss him back. She was stone. Ice. Motionless.

It was worse than a slap. Much, much worse than if she’d squirmed and kicked and screamed for him to stop.

He let go as quickly as he’d started, releasing her, and stepping one inch back. She looked him right in the eyes, her message as clear as if she’d spoken.

“Have you had enough?” she asked, the dull edge in her voice slicing through him.

“Enough?” He slid his hands around her neck, surprised to find it damp with moisture, considering her determination not to feel anything. “Not even close.”

The hook of her halter top snapped in one easy move, and he had it down so fast, she barely had time to gasp. It fell to her waist revealing her firm, sweet, rose-tipped breasts. He could have sworn she arched a little, just to jut those peaks right at him.

“The fact is, Lucy, I could eat you up, swallow you whole, suck the sweat off your skin…”

Her nipples hardened and a slow flush rose on that very skin.

“Then I could tie myself up in this stuff here…” He took two handfuls of hair and dragged his fingers through the silk, grazing the sides of her breasts on the way. “And then I could bury myself all the way inside you until I got good and gone and lost….”

Hands on her hips, he pushed the slippery fabric the rest of the way down her body. He drank in every curve and angle, every shimmery shade of ivory and cream and one skinny strip of sleek ebony pointing straight to the only place in the world he wanted to be.

“And it wouldn’t even be close to enough.”

Fabulous author Roxanne St. Claire was kind enough to send us some excerpts before she left to go out of town. AKA she will not respond to this till she returns… I think… who know what the hell she and Kresley Cole are up too. Maybe we will get pictures *g*

Now You Die (The Bullet Catchers, Book 6) by Roxanne St. Claire

TLT: Author’s Pick, Favorite Scene #1:

Former Bullet Catcher and lone wolf investigator Jack Culver is on a mission. Thirty years ago, an innocent woman was convicted of murder. Jack believes he’s found the real killer — but to take down one of the highest legal authorities in the land, he needs access. Serious access. Unfortunately, the one person he knows with that kind of power is his ex-boss and ex-lover, the woman who still haunts his dreams.

Bullet Catchers owner Lucy Sharpe realizes she’s being used for her connections, and she intends to use Jack Culver right back. She’s determined to see justice served, even if that means partnering with the man who once found his way past her iron shields. This time, she’ll be strong enough to avoid Jack’s persuasive touch.

But when passion flares, and they become the killer’s target, Lucy and Jack don’t just break some rules — they shatter them. And that means risking everything: their jobs, their hearts…and their lives.

“You didn’t answer my question.” He tilted his head the other way, as if he were trying to decide which way the kiss would feel better.

Any way would work. “I forgot what you asked.”

“Why did you summon me in the middle of the night, Ms. Sharpe?”

“To see the scene of the crime,” she said.

“You’re lying. You want me to kiss you.”

“That’s quite an assumption.” It just happened to be true.

He grinned, his teeth white against olive skin and black whiskers, his eyes glinting with an evil, dangerous glimmer. “But I notice that this time when I have you up against a wall there’s no threat to kick my balls from here to kingdom come.” He inched closer. Warmer. Almost touching her from top to toe, exactly what she needed.

“The implied threat is always there.”

He laughed softly. “You do want me to kiss you.”

“What I want,” she said with remarkable control, “is for you to show me the precise spot where Wanda’s body was found, so I can figure out if it was even marginally possible to fire a gun from this angle and kill her.”

He hesitated, still studying her mouth, still considering his move. “I already checked. It isn’t, marginally or otherwise.”

“Yes it is.” She put her hands on his chest – rock hard and pumping with the same accelerated heartbeat as hers – and pushed him back, turning. “A twenty-five caliber Raven Arms could easily hit her from here.” She pointed to a spot directly across from the gate. “And it would look like the point black shot that killed her, especially to a jury predisposed to a guilty verdict.”

“It could, if that’s where her body was.”

He took her hand and guided her away from the wall, taking about ten steps to the other side of the gate, into an even darker corner of the graveyard. “That’s where her body was found.” He pointed into the alley to a spot about fifteen feet away from the original. “But that wasn’t in the official report submitted into evidence. No point blank range, by anyone’s definition. Remember, Lucy. Evidence was tampered with by the real killer.”

She considered that, lifting her finger to take aim, imagining the moment someone shot Wanda Sloane. “If that’s really where she died, then someone inside this graveyard couldn’t have fired the gun. But you can’t see the whole alley. Someone else could have been out there.”

“Someone named Higgins. Or did you forget what brought you to Charleston in the first place?”

She noted the edge in his voice, which reminded her of how personal this was to him.

“I’m just looking at the evidence, Jack. I haven’t convicted our target yet.”

Another bit of distant conversation floated over the wall that separated them from the alley, along with enough footsteps to tell them a much larger group was coming their way. He backed her into the wall and covered her, pressing his full body against hers.

The laughter and talk grew louder, but the sound took a back seat to the thrum of Lucy’s heartbeat, and the devil who put his lips to her ear and whispered, “Stay real quiet now.”

“In 1987, a local amateur photographer took a photo of that headstone right there…” The voice of the ghost tour guide bounced off the alley behind them and footsteps grew louder.

Against her stomach, she could feel the bulge of him growing hard, and the pressure of his chest against hers. He took her face in his hands, brushing her lips with both thumbs, angling her head as if he wanted it in exactly the right place to fit under his mouth.

“Kiss me now.” He breathed the command on her lips, so close she could almost taste him.

Behind them, the tour guide droned. “In that photograph, the translucent image of a mother and her child on the anniversary of that child’s death appeared before that headstone.”

The words walloped her, drawing a slight gasp that he mistook for a yes. Instantly, his mouth met hers and he tunneled his fingers deeper into her hair, moving, his lips open, hungry, hot, his tongue already taking ownership of hers.

Forget. Just forget. Let go.

She listened to that demanding inner voice, sucking on his tongue, drawing a low, soft moan from his chest and a rock of his hips against hers, his erection already hard enough to send a wicked thrill between her legs.

He still held her head in his large, warm hands, holding her like she was precious and he adored her, like the kiss mattered more than anything, and that was so perfect and sexy that Lucy let go, and forgot everything.

He closed his hands over her neck and throat, then raked them flat down her chest, his mouth following with a trail of kisses, his palms covering and closing over her breasts.

“Jack,” she breathed his name.

“Shhhh,” he murmured into the flesh of her neck and collarbone. “Don’t let them hear us. They’ll think we’re ghosts.”

He kneaded her gently, rolling his hard-on against her, pulling a soft moan of sheer delight from deep inside her.

“But the most famous moment in Philadelphia Alley history was on a hot August night in 1771, when two local businessmen dueled to the death on this very spot.”

Behind them, more death. More talk. She arched and offered herself in response.

He kissed her again, moving one hand around to cup her backside and the other sliding under her sweater, fingers on her stomach.

“I have to touch you,” he murmured. “Have to.” His little exhale of desperation shot fire between her legs as he caressed the satin of her bra, her head singing with blood and arousal.

“No pearls,” he mumbled. Nonsense. Blood-pounding, body-wrenching, juice-inducing nonsense. She matched his quickening rhythm against her, spurred by his hands and his hardness and how it made everything disappear. He curled his fingers over the peak, tweaking her into a nub, half chuckling and half groaning at her instant response. “One pearl.”

She had no idea what he was talking about, but it didn’t matter. She’d lost control at the first kiss, and right then, nothing mattered. She could come like this. She could absolutely lose it against this wall, body humping Jack hidden only by a wall and light fog. She could –

“What about the other murder that took place here?”

The woman’s voice sliced through Lucy’s conscious, the question jarring, the voice strident. His fingers froze. Her hips stilled. They both stopped breathing.

~~~~

I’ve never written a love triangle before, and didn’t set out to, quite honestly. But then, I didn’t set out for NOW YOU DIE, the third book in the Bullet Catchers 2008 trilogy (and the sixth in the overall series) to be the book it is. When I proposed the trilogy, the three heroines were going to be three sisters, separated at birth in a black market adoption scheme.

Trouble started on the first page of the first book. A character, Jack Culver, was introduced, his role was to be the “glue” that held the trilogy story arc together. He was never meant to be a hero, never meant to rock my little series on its side.

But, damn, he was powerful. And the first thing that SOB did was torque Lucy Sharpe, the leader of the Bullet Catchers and reveal to me, the poor unknowing author, that those two had a chemistry galore. And conflict. And tension.

As I wrote the first two books in the series, the chemistry ignited and the conflict deepened and the tension got so thick….I changed the whole concept for the third book. In the process, I may have broken a few reader’s hearts, since Dan Gallagher, a fan favorite Bullet Catcher, was always sort of set up to be Lucy’s love, in whatever would be the final book in the series.

But my muse or my characters or my whatever the hell makes writers tick thought differently. NOW YOU DIE is a very different book than I first proposed. It’s Lucy’s book, but not the last in the series. It’s not the third sister of the missing triplets, but she’s in the story. It’s the first time I’ve had characters deal with a bit of a love triangle, and that’s not anything like what I expected it would be. Those surprises, I suppose, is why being a writer is a really fun job.

There are excerpts from the beginning of the book on my web site. For GBU, I’ve picked three of my favorite scenes, the ones that show, I hope, why these two couldn’t be anything but…together.

Enjoy!!!

In our continued quest to keep you all as informed as possible, we have enlisted the help of Jessica Andersen, author of June release Nightkeepers. Nightkeepers features Mayan mythology and history. Don’t know much about the Maya, you say? Well, read on (and be sure to read Part 1 as well.)

Did you know?

• The ancient Maya worshipped their departed ancestors as being next to the gods. They believed that the best way to communicate with the gods was to be close to death, either through a near-death experience or an orgasm (the little death).
• The ancient Maya built tall pyramids not only in celebration of the gods and as astronomical tools, but also so they could act as landmarks, rising up from the otherwise featureless rainforest canopy.

• The ancient Mayan empire once included portions of Mexico, Honduras, Guatemala, Ecuador and Belize.

• Although called an empire, the ancient Mayan society was actually made up of loosely connected groups and kingdoms that often fought among each other, and took their defeated foes as workers. . . or sacrificial victims.

Do you feel a bit smarter? Read Nightkeepers and learn more!

Nightkeepers by Jessica Andersen, the first book in the Novels of the Final Prophecy series, just released on 3 June 2008. It is the first book in a series featuring Mayan gods and goddesses and the END OF THE WORLD! Get your excerpt here. Ms. Andersen recently guested here at TGTBTU (see here and here). The Maya, huh? Certainly an unusual element for a paranormal romance novel. Since your knowledge of this ancient civilization may be a bit rusty (or non-existent), Ms. Andersen has provided us with some interesting tidbits.

Did you know…?

• During the spring equinox, the architecture and carvings of El Castillo, the main pyramid at Chichen Itza, form a snake-shaped shadow crawling down the entire side of the pyramid, paying homage to Kulkulkan, the Mayans’ feathered serpent god.

• The ancient Maya had the only fully developed writing system in the New World.

• Despite movies depicting Mayan gold, the Maya weren’t known as metalworkers. They carved stone, particularly jade and obsidian, worked pottery, wove intricate textiles and wrote books called codices that were made of folded fig bark painted with limestone. All but four of these books were destroyed by the Conquistadors and their missionaries.

• The ancient Maya built their intricately carved temples and pyramids largely without the aid of the wheel or metal tools.

Consider yourself smarter!

by Julia Justiss

Okay, so I stole the idea from Karen Templeton’s very informative description of SSE. I’ll get ready to duck and run for cover on this one, but I have to say it:

I am bored, bored BORED by the plethora of (admittedly, alas) very popular current historical romances in which the hero/heroine (even a virginal one who has no experience with sex) meet and, with little regard for historical accuracy, hop into bed and return there. And return there. And RETURN THERE. Well, maybe there’s a garden bench or an unoccupied library table in the mix, but you get my drift.

I realize the whole trend was sparked (if you will) by the erotica/paranormal craze and that fantasy is a big aspect of it… probably most women don’t actually want to experience a ménage-a-trois with a hunky guy and a werewolf. However, even as a kid I was never interested in fantasy. Nope, no Lion, Witch and Wardrobe for me. **I** read about World War II submarines and Egyptology.

Besides my underdeveloped fantasy genes and lamentable preoccupation with real life, I’m just not into spectator sports. Not that I begrudge the success of fellow authors, some close friends, who write the hotter books — I cheer for them happily while I try to weasel invitations to lunch. It’s just I miss, well, REAL stories about believably REAL historical people.

As a writer, what makes ME passionate is weaving tales about the emotional relationships between heroes and heroines who have family and friends as well as lovers. Who have tragedies to overcome and difficulties to shoulder that can’t always be solved by a little hot sex. But who discover that, despite their problems, their faults, their doubts and their fears, having a deep abiding love for one special person can make any situation bearable and illumine one’s life with joy.

Such is the case with my upcoming Regency historical, A MOST UNCONVENTIONAL MATCH. Elizabeth Wellingford Lowery has just lost her husband, an older man she sincerely loved, who treated her as a precious object, taking care of all the details of everyday life so she could immerse herself in her painting. Suddenly thrust unprepared into bitter reality, left with no one to turn to as all her family is currently abroad, she is floundering when Hal Waterman arrives at her door.

Possessed of a demanding, Society leader Diamond of a mother, Hal has always carefully avoided Beauties, particularly Elizabeth Wellingford, sister-in-law of his best friend Nicky, to whom he had an immediate, instantaneous attraction when they first met seven years ago. But with her family out of reach, when he hears of Elizabeth’s loss, he feels obligated to call and offer his assistance in Nicky’s stead. He intends to help her settle her financial affairs and make a quick exit…until he encounters her little boy, desolate with a grief that Hal, who lost his own father at an early age, recalls only too well.

So cautiously begins the dance of attraction between a gruff man’s man and a china-doll beauty who initially seem to have nothing in common…but come in time to realize they are each other’s perfect complement. I hope readers will agree.

And yeah, there is some pretty hot sex. (Don’t want you to think I don’t know how.)

So tell me what you think: am I the only coyote howling in the wildness on this issue? Do you want more, more, more of the hot stuff…or would you like to see a larger variety of stories not so preoccupied with the physical?

BTW, I have a monthly contest on my website where you can win books and other cool prizes, so stop by.

by Elizabeth Lane

I don’t know about you, but I love ‘em both — the upright, serious, duty bound heroes and the ones who’ll break a girl’s heart without thinking twice, and maybe laugh while they’re doing it.

The bad boys charm us because they keep us guessing-and because we keep hoping that the right woman will turn them around and put their feet on the right road. The good ones are our white knights-even though their unbending honor codes and determination to do the right thing can be annoying as all get out.

Which would you choose, if you could? Which one would you take home for keeps?

In my upcoming Harlequin Historical, The Borrowed Bride (November 2008), readers will be getting a taste of both. To make things more interesting, the two men are brothers — Quint and Judd. And Hannah, our heroine, is forced to choose between them. Ahhh… but there are complications.

What kind of man would seduce his childhood sweetheart, then run off to hunt gold in Alaska and seemingly drop off the face of the earth?

And when the poor girl learns she’s pregnant, what kind of man would marry her to give his brother’s child the family name, then refuse to lay a hand on her-even when she wants more than his hand (I’d say, a lot more)?

Should Hannah choose the sweet, wild, irresponsible father of her baby? Or should she choose the maddeningly honorable man who married her out of duty? I won’t tell you how the story ends, except to say that this book is the first of two. And the rejected brother will get a love story of his own.

How about you? Do you go for bad heroes or good ones? I’d love to hear.

Oh Cowboys. . . How they are loved so. Pam Crooks has promised a signed copy of Kidnapped By the Cowboy and a cowboy fan for someone that shared a story about racing and getting adrenaline going.

The lucky winner in the contest is

Maureen

Congratulations! Be sure you email Sybil at redwyne @ gmail .com your physical address about getting your prize! Congrats again to our lucky winner.

If you have been a reader of the blog for a while, you no doubt are aware I am something of a fan of Jessica Bird, a.k.a. J.R. Ward. I happen to think the author is beyond cool. I was blown away by Dark Lover and still to this day am in love with that book as well as Lover Awakened. Hey… everyone has a favorite brother.

When it came time to for Lover Enshrined I thought it would be tres nifty to have her CP, the ever nifty Jessica Andersen do the interview… we got lucky (or they gave in so I would shut up), at the end of the interview you can read how YOU can get lucky *G*

Dr. Jessica Andersen, author of the newly released paranormal Nightkeepers, interviews J.R. Ward, otherwise known as the WARDen, author of the also newly released Lover Enshrined. Read on…

Hey Duckies, author Jessica Andersen here! I don’t know where you all are at, but here in the Northeastern USA it’s hot as blazes. Hello, early heat wave! In an effort to cool things down, I thought I’d keep it light today. I’m joined by my good buddy and critique partner, J.R. Ward, and we’re going to do a little quacking about her awesome new release, Lover Enshrined, the sixth book in the Black Dagger Brotherhood series.

Jessica Andersen: Hey JR, dude. Thanks for agreeing to do this mini-interview!

J.R. Ward: Actually, thank you for doing it!

JA: Staying on that ‘keep it light and cool’ theory, I thought we could do a ‘these are a few of my favorite things’ list… so here goes. As always in the BDB books, Lover Enshrined has got a ton of great zingers and one-liners among the characters. What’s your favorite line in the book, and why?

JRW: Man, there are a number of them! I think my fav is when Wrath is explaining to John Matthew that the last time Lassiter, the fallen angel, was on the planet there was a plague in central Europe. Lassiter’s response: “Okay, that was SO not my fault.”

JA: Building on that idea, what’s your favorite scene in Lover Enshrined?

JRW: Lemme think… the one with John Matthew on page 497 (I’m quoting the page to avoid a spoiler) just tore at my heart, in a good way and a bad way. I also like the one with Phury on page 492… that was just a great scene (it’s the one where he emerges from the Scribe Virgin’s private quarters.) That one also leads up to my favorite line in the book: “He finally felt like the hero he had always wanted to be.” But my absolute favorite scene… was the one at the end when Z comes to Phury, with the Brotherhood. Got me all teary when I wrote it to be honest. It was so great to see the twins reunited and the Brothers all together… and yeah, that’s my fav.

JA: Thinking of the series as a whole, which of the book covers is your favorite, and why?

JRW: You know, I like them all but I think Dark Lover is my favorite. I love the red and the black, plus it was the first one and set the standard for them all. So, yeah, have to go with the king on that one!

JA: Okay, shifting the topic slightly, what’s the funniest thing a fan ever asked you, either online or during a public appearance?

JRW: Actually, I’d have to say it wasn’t a question, but how a question was raised. This lovely woman who always attends the Cincinnati signings, lifted her hand up to her face, putting it on her forehead (to indicate she had something to ask). The thing was, she had her fingers orientated so that it put a loser sign on her forehead as she looked up at me. I busted out laughing and was like, are you losering me at my own signing?! Of course everyone cracked up- she handled it very well, though. And she’s still coming to the signings!

JA: What was your favorite song (or songs) to listen to while you were writing Phury? Did you mainline the opera, or was the soundtrack straight up ZeroSum fare, or…?

JRW: Huh… well, I listened to opera a lot, yes. But as always there was rap and hip hop in my ears while I ran during the writing of the book. And when I run I plan a lot so even Phury was touched by the likes of Fifty and Pac and Kanye and Lil Jon and Jay-Z…

JA: When you’re treating yourself, what’s the treat? Chocolate? Massage? White water rafting?

JRW: Right now? Breyers vanilla and coffee ice cream!

JA: And now for the lightning round… please answer the following with a word or phrase only, no explanations:

Favorite DVD? “The Office”, any season

Favorite guilty pleasure on TV? “Flavor of Love”, any season

Favorite guilty pleasure in the fridge? Ice cream, see above

Favorite word for the Chicago Manual of Style? Okay that’s a trick question! LOLOLOL geeee I’d have to go with c***sucker.

JA: And finally, what is your favorite recent release about the Mayan 2012 doomsday and the men and women who are bound to protect us from the apocalypse?

JRW: OMG, it’s totally Nightkeepers by Jessica Andersen! Have you ever heard of her? Fabulous writer, wicked sense of humor… and excels at fondue. You.are.welcome.

JA: And there you have it, Duckies! Straight from the WARDen herself, a little light fun on a hot day.

Shiloh: Okay, so after doing uh… I think four guest blogs, a Dear Reader letter, and I dunno how many other things trying to promote Through the Veil, I’ve run out of ideas on what to talk about.

Then I had a brilliant idea slightly different idea-instead of talking about the book, or letting people ask me about the book… I’d let people talk to one of the characters in the book.

Kalen Brenner

He’s a soldier forced to lead an army in a war they can’t possibly win. Their one hope lies with a woman who doesn’t even know he exists.

If he can’t get through to her, he doesn’t have a chance in hell of winning this war.

Getting through to her turns out to be the easy part. Keeping her alive is going to be a little harder.

So there’s Kalen in a nutshell. But I came up with some questions—

Kalen: The hell you did. You went and cheated. Can’t even think of a damn question to ask me?

Shiloh: (Long suffering sigh.) Fine. I didn’t come up with the questions-I asked some people who’d read the book already.

Kalen: I don’t see why you want to ask me questions anyway. You created me. Don’t you already know what’s in my head?

Shiloh: (narrowing eyes and tapping foot) You know, considering that I created you, you could show me a little more respect than this. You run roughshod over what I want to do with the book—

Kalen: (smirking) Well, it is MY story.

Shiloh: (quietly) Jerk.

Kalen: Laughter

Shiloh: Can we get on with this?

Kalen: I’m all ears, madam.

Shiloh: Okay, easy questions first…boxers or briefs?

Kalen: (grins) I could tell you. But then Lee would kill you. Then me.

Shiloh: (Rolling eyes) I know the answer to that, anyway. He goes commando but that’s because he’s usually in too big a hurry to mess with anything not utterly necessary.

Kalen: If you already knew the answer—

Shiloh: Can we get on with this? Okay, so tell me, do you remember much of life before the war?

The smile on his face dies. He looks sad, tired as he sits up straighter and rubs his hands over his face. I’m almost sorry I asked.

Kalen: No. Not usually. There was a time when I was a kid when things weren’t always life or death. When I could just think and it would activate the thought-sense trigger on the prep-unit and I had a snack ready in a few seconds. I can remember Mom singing to me-her dancing with Dad. But then the raids came more often. He died. And…

(Kalen closes his eyes)

And everything just collapsed. He died and it was like it all went straight to hell. Maybe things had already been hell and he just kept me from seeing it. I don’t know.

Shiloh: I’m sorry.

Kalen: Me, too.

Shiloh: About Lee-when did you know she wasn’t…well…normal?

Kalen: (manages a wry smile) I don’t know if I know what normal is. But I knew there was something weird about her from day one. She was just a kid—appeared out of nowhere. Saved my life. Then she was gone.

Shiloh: Once you figured it out, did you ever think about leaving your world, trying to get through the veil and join her in her world?

Kalen: (those eyes of his flash like lightning-burning hot) This is her world. But go there? Someplace safe? Someplace where things seem a little less dangerous? (he shrugs) No. For one, I couldn’t. I don’t have that ability. For another—I’m needed here. I couldn’t leave these people.

(he leans forward, his black hair falling over one shoulder, a bitter smile curling his lips) I know what you want to ask. And it doesn’t matter that staying here means I would end up dead. That’s changed now, but even if it hadn’t, it wouldn’t change things. I love Lee—she’s my life. But what kind of man would I be if I walked away from people who need me? People who are willing to die to protect their world? If I walk away from them—I don’t deserve them. I wouldn’t deserve her.

Shiloh: (smiling—somehow, I knew he’d answer like that) I’ve had a couple of questions about Morne. Don’t suppose you want to tell us anything…?

Kalen: (scowling) Exactly what should I tell you? He knows how to handle himself in battle. He’s handy to have around when people have their heads busted or a bone smashed.

(Then he smirks) He sure is pretty, though. Or at least the women think so.

Shiloh: Ever so tired of everything that you just want to chuck it all and just stay in bed?

Kalen: Almost every day.

Shiloh: When did you lose your innocence?

Kalen: (he starts to laugh)

Shiloh: (narrowing eyes, trying not to blush) Wrong innocence, pal. And I know the answer to that one…give me a hard time here and I’ll let Lee know the answer, too.

Kalen: (makes attempt to hide his smirk with his hand) Hey, don’t blame me. You’re the one who asked.

Shiloh: Men! Come on, Kalen. I’m talking about the war. When did your innocence die?

Kalen: When my dad died. (Shrugs) You lose a parent, it kills something inside you. Mom died not too long after—Raviners got her. I saw it. There is no innocence after you see that.

Shiloh: I’m bringing up bad memories.

Kalen: The memories are there, no matter what. Not asking doesn’t change it. Besides… (he starts to smile and it’s the first real smile I’ve seen from him today) now I’ve got a chance to make some of my own memories—ones that don’t involve strategy, planning, stockpiling food or defending the front line. I’ve got a chance at a life now.

Do you have a question for Kalen or Shiloh? Now is your chance to ask!

Thanks to the following folks for helping put Kalen in the hot seat

Jordan Summers
Lora Leigh
Anne
Jambrea

Shiloh is holding a scavenger hunt and you can find the info here. She’s offering up some great prizes:

• One $50 GC to Barnes & Noble

• One $15 GC to Barnes & Noble

• One $10 GC to Mybookstoreandmore.com

And we will have another nifty contest on Friday @ TGTBTU. Comments in this thread will be entered (put noenter@gmail.com if you don’t want to be). And don’t forget to read ShannonC’s review of Through the Veil here.

by Patricia Frances Rowell

People are forever asking writers, “Where do you get your ideas?” And we look at them blankly, because we can’t comprehend the question. The reason for that is that we are inundated with ideas. Everything we see or hear or read sets our busy little minds to spinning.

For example, take the idea for my June book, An Impetuous Abduction. For reasons I have now forgotten, I was perusing the list of given names in my fifty-year-old Webster Collegiate Dictionary. I noticed that the English name ‘Demetra’ is derived from ‘Demeter’, the Greek fertility goddess.

Well, duh! But who knew? That put me in mind of the famous myth of Demeter; her daughter, Persephone; and Hades, Lord of the Underworld. You know the one? The one that explains why we have fertile summer and barren winter?

In a nut shell, Hades absconds to his realm with Persephone, and her mother pines so much that she doesn’t do her job of making things grow. Zeus, Chief God, has to get into it and negotiate a deal that allows Persephone to stay with her husband, Hades, for six months of the year and with her mother for six months. Thus winter and summer.

Mother love is a beautiful thing, and it has its place in the world, but can you imagine poor Hades having Demeter as a mother-in-law? Can you imagine being Persephone and being tugged first one way and then the other? How are the honeymoon couple going to live happily ever after?

There is more to this story than just Zeus’s solution!

And I decided to write it.

Thanks, TGTBTU, for letting me join you today!

Patti