We’re talkin’ up a storm again.  Welcome back to Duck Chat.

Today Beth Kery, writer of some of the steamiest erotic romance out there, joins us to talk about her books and have some fun with us. I’ve read a number of Beth’s book over the last couple of years, I have to say I’m hooked. I have been since I read Exorcising Sean’s Ghost. That remains my favorite Beth Kery book to date, and she’s had some terrific stories released since then. If you’re not familiar with her books, do stop by her website and look around. I think you’ll find something that will call to you and you’ll just have to try it! Of course, Beth is going to give you a chance to win a couple of her books. Give us a meaningful comment and we’ll toss you into the running for an ARC of her upcoming release Daring Time, a print copy of Wicked Burn, and a download of her current release, Flirting in Traffic.

If you have any questions for Beth today, leave a comment, she’s going to stop in now and again to see what you’re all up to.  So now let’s chat!

DUCK CHAT: Beth, your writing has brought about a very quick rise for you in the industry. Wicked Burn was your debut with Berkley Sensation. What’s it been like for you in your dealings with Berkley compared to the epublishing process?

BETH KERY: Hi, Sandy. It hasn’t been all that different, really, as far as the mechanics. You usually need an agent to sell to the New York market, but not always. Otherwise–you make a sale, you do edits and you release your book.

A few differences: For my first three Berkley books, I did paper edits, which was quite an experience—one master copy being shipped across the country. However, Berkley is now going to electronic edits, so there goes that difference. I had to learn different promotional and sales markets for my print book. In general (depending on who you are, of course) you reach a wider market with your print book, so you hear from more people about the book.

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

BK: Um…probably when did you decide to become a writer? My answer is always a little false, because it was sort of a jump and start, gradual thing for me, not a sudden “Ah ha!” I’m not so sure that I even considered myself a ‘writer’ in my head until a couple months ago, so yeah—kind of an innocent sounding question that’s pretty complicated for me to answer.

I seriously just realized the other day that I didn’t feel bad, slumming around when I went to the grocery store wearing sweatpants and glasses—because I’m a writer. That’s our uniform!

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

BK: Yes, most definitely. I typically ride the hump of the pantster/plotter bell curve. So I have a loose plot in mind, but the characters definitely improvise and grow on the stage I’ve set for them.

DC: Wicked Burn is one hot, sexy read. Tell our readers about Vic and Niall, please.

BK: Thanks, Sandy. Niall and Vic are two people who sort of come together in a sexual cataclysm one night. When things like that happen, it seems like impulse or chance, but in reality, because of their pasts and personal characteristics, there were good reasons that things were so explosive for them. I like to observe human nature and behavior, and it’s always fascinating to me the events and circumstances that lead up to something that seems like it ‘just happened.’ So, while someone might look at Niall and Vic and say they were using sex to get past their wounds or personal traumas, I wonder what it is about that point in time and those two particular people that made it possible for them to begin to heal through at first a physical relationship and then a much more profound one.

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

BK: Hmmm…that’s a good question. I’d love to say I have these down and dirty drag-outs with them, but I usually don’t. That’s not to say that all my characters are always likeable, because they’re not. I’ve just come to terms with where they are at that point in the development of the story.

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

BK: My other job, first and foremost. Beyond that, a sunny day, a certain look from my husband…. a growling stomach.

DC: Some authors eventually phase out of the epublishing world once their “bigger break” comes along. Any plans of doing that yourself?

BK: I don’t have any plans for that, but I’m admittedly a very freshman writer, so what do I know? I’d like to balance both venues. I was extremely busy last year writing books for Berkley, so I’m not sure at this point in time how things will work out. However, I would eventually like to find a comfortable balance.

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

BK: Hmmm, another good question. I’ve started to experiment more with my heroines. My typical heroine is often a contained intellectual whose emotional maturity helps the hero to grow. There are some recent exceptions. Hope Stillwater, the heroine for my erotic time travel Daring Time, which comes out this May, is a spirited, feisty, impulsive suffragette who might be called progressive in any time period. And Esa, my heroine in Flirting in Traffic, is also a departure for me. She’s devoted to her work, sharp-tongued, shaky in the romance and body-image arena, and possesses a loyal, devoted heart.

My heroes are all pretty much bigger than life. One thing I’m always trying to do is find new, exciting arenas for the alpha to show his stuff. I just finished a book called Release for Berkley Heat, and the hero is a private intelligence operative—a.k.a. a spy for hire. I’m so lucky, because I have a friend who is a military intelligence operative, so I got to have a lot of fun researching it. Ryan Daire, my hero in Daring Time, is a cop who is also a boxing champion, so I had a ball researching boxing terms, famous fights, and talking to my ‘fighter’ lady friends (Belinda and Fi). I just started a book where the hero is a neurologist. I realized I’d never done a hero in the medical field, which is weird because I work in the medical field. Fantasy alpha doctors are so yummy. Don’t know where they actually are, though…

DC: Your latest ebook is Flirting in Traffic with Cerridwin Press. I really enjoyed Finn and Esa’s story. Would you tell everyone about them?

Thank you, Sandy. Finn and Esa sort of both have the older sibling syndrome and have been identified as the dependable ones–the ‘rocks’ in the family. Esa is a smart, plucky physician (yeah, I do heroine docs!) who is constantly being told by her sexy, publisher sister and best friend that’s she’s lame and boring. Finn is a dead-sexy architect who’s been burned by a perfidious fiancé and wants some no-strings-attached-rebound sex to get him back in the swing of things. Of course, he mistakenly thinks stuffy Esa is that fun sex kitten, which makes for a bumpy, but very steamy, road to true love.

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

BK: I’d really like to try young adult. Some day.

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

BK: “You have so much going for you, why don’t you savor it…celebrate it?” It must be the curse of your thirties. I look at my nieces, who are stunning, smart, well-educated, and I’m blown away by all their gifts. I had many of those gifts, but, like them, I was saddled by the insecurities of youth. Why can’t we have the wisdom of age and the future (and the body) of a twenty-one year old all at once? Sigh.

DC: Next up for you is the release of Through Her Eyes in April. Can you give us a sneak peek?

BK: Through Her Eyes is actually a re-write of the very first book I ever had published at a small e-press called Aphrodite Unlaced. It may not be my most polished book, but it has characteristics in it that I value on reflection. Daring Time, Sweet Restraint, and Release all have crime and suspense elements, so I think of Through Her Eyes as my first dip into those genres. Or into anything, really.

I was thrilled that Ellora’s Cave said they’d like to publish it. It’s an erotic contemporary with suspense and paranormal elements. Let’s see, a quick (rather sloppy) highlight of the book—an old Hyde Park mansion, a ghost, a psychiatrist heroine who is also a very reluctant psychic, a serial killer, and an extremely sexy special agent hero who is bound and determined to both save the heroine and catch the killer—for very personal reasons.

Oh…and lots of really hot sex. Can’t forget that.

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

BK: My other job that I still do. I’m very lucky to have two such rewarding careers.

DC: We’ve mentioned your time travel that’s coming out in May, Daring Time. Is this your first time travel? Did you find that paranormal element any more difficult than others you’ve written to date? Or was it maybe easier to write?

BK: I do! I’m probably more excited about Daring Time coming out in May than I ever have been for a book. It is my first time travel, and I cann’t say I’ve ever had so much fun writing a book. I’ve lived in downtown Chicago for the past seventeen years of my life, and Daring Time became kind of a personal tribute to a city that I’ve grown to love to so much. This city has really entered the fabric of my life.

Daring Time is what my editor calls a ‘paranormal light.’ So, the Subtle Lovers series, for instance, has a much heavier paranormal element than Daring Time. Daring Time combines many genres, though, as I suppose many time travels do—contemporary, paranormal, historical, and even a suspense/crime drama.

DC: Would you tell us a little about Daring Time too?

BK: It’s the story of a young vice detective who unexpectedly—and strangely—inherits a Prairie Avenue mansion from an elderly friend. He begins to see an elusive, beautiful woman in the house. His research tells him it’s a woman who was murdered in the year 1906. Desire creates a conduit between them and through it, he travels back to the early nineteen hundreds to save her. There are many parallels between the two time periods—for instance, the man the hero and his partner are trying to bring in for a white slavery operation in the year 2008 is the very same soul responsible for the heroine’s abduction in the year 1906.

I had the opportunity to tour several Prairie Avenue mansions to prepare for this book. The historic district came vibrantly alive for me. I’d love to do a series of time travels associated with the Prairie Avenue district, which to me was as much as a beautiful ‘true’ fantasy as the Chicago World’s Fair and the White City.

Excerpt of Daring Time:

“This professor guy must have liked you a hell of a lot to leave you a mansion,” Ramiro muttered, a hint of envy flavoring his tone.

“I was knocked flat on my ass when Alistair told me what he planned, but there was nothing I could say to change his mind. He insisted I was doing him a favor by taking it. The value of the house is appreciating hugely because of the real estate development in this area. Alistair’s lawyers advised him to reduce his taxable estate with a gift.”

“Some gift. Better he’d left you some cash, though.”

Ryan stepped into a room and flipped on a light. He studied the large spacious bedroom suite, the plaster ceilings and intricately carved mantel. Alistair knew Ryan loved Chicago history. He must have guessed how much Ryan would appreciate the mansion.

“Cash’s got nothing on this place.”

Ramiro snorted. “They broke the mold when it comes to you, Daire. Six foot and four inches of pure pushover. At least to little kids and stray animals. Can’t say the same about you when it comes to assholes like Jim Donovan.”

“You wouldn’t want me any other way.”

“Who wants you? I’m shackled to you,” Ramiro grumbled.

They stepped into the bedroom. Ryan ran his hand admiringly over the carved mahogany mantel. Unlike the majority of the house, this room retained some furniture—stuff that looked to be the same vintage as the house, Ryan realized with a sense of amazement. The green and white floral wallpaper beneath the wainscoting had faded but still retained a fresh, feminine charm. Obviously the bedroom had once belonged to a woman.

The foot and headboard of a brass bedstead leaned against the wall between two antique mahogany tables. Ryan fingered the cool metal thoughtfully. The brass needed to be cleaned but the bed was perfectly intact. An image of himself polishing the brass and putting together the bed for his own mattress flashed vividly into his mind’s eye.

He’d be nuts to even consider moving into this place.

“Look at this. Looks like something you’d have your nose buried in.” Ramiro held up an old leather bound book that he’d found in one of the table drawers. The color of the once crimson leather had faded to a dull dark red.

“Shakespeare’s sonnets,” Ryan murmured. He owned a copy of his own, nearly as well read as this old tome. Ryan had cultivated a love of Shakespeare from his father that had been nourished by Alistair. The book parted to a well-worn gold-leafed page when he opened it. He immediately recognized the one hundred and sixteenth sonnet.

He raised the book toward his face and inhaled. His brow furrowed at the scent of gardenias mixing with the odor of leather and mildew.

“I’ll bet you can get a couple grand for this old chest, Daire. People pay out their asses for antiques. Holy shit, check it out.”

Ramiro moved aside from the opened door of the massive mahogany wardrobe so that Ryan could see the full-length mirror attached on the inner side of the door. The frame had been carved into a meticulous iris design beneath the gilt. Time had taken its toll on the mirror itself. Six or so inches all along the exterior had gone foggy with age. Only the center portion reflected true. Still, the mirror was so huge that Ryan didn’t have to stoop his tall frame to see his face in the reflection.
Only it wasn’t his face that he saw. He started in surprise.

“Jesus.”

He whipped around so fast that Ramiro jerked back in alarm.

“What?” Ramiro asked. The whites of his brown eyes showed as his gaze shifted warily around the room and then back to Ryan. “What’s wrong, man?”

Ryan turned back to the mirror, this time seeing his own bloodless face and greenish-blue eyes staring back at him.

“You didn’t see her?”

“See who?”

“That woman. She was just right here, standing in front of me. I saw her in the mirror.” He quickly inspected the empty wardrobe, scanned the bedroom and rushed to the door.
The hallway stood empty and silent, the dozens of closed doors along both walls reminding him of watchful eyes.

“There’s no one here but us, Daire,” Ramiro said from just behind him.

Ryan shook his head. He knew what he’d seen with his own two eyes: a stunning, lithesome-limbed beauty with pale, flawless skin and a long mane of soft, curling dark hair hanging loose down her shoulders and back.

The same woman he’d imagined briefly in the ballroom, he realized. But this had been different. In the ballroom it had just been like a super-vivid flash of his imagination. This had been real.

Realer than real.

Laughter had curved her lush, dark pink lips. She’d worn a sheer negligee, the bottom of which barely covered the dark nest of hair between her slender thighs. She might as well have been standing there naked for as much good as the nightgown did. The only other thing that adorned her flawless skin was a locket hanging around her neck. Ryan could still see perfectly with his mind’s eye the detail of the filigree carved into the silver and the throb of the woman’s pulse at her throat.

“No. I definitely saw her,” Ryan insisted firmly, but even as he said it, he began to question himself.

He’d seen the front of her in the mirror…as though she’d stood directly before him with her back to him.

His breath froze on an inhale.

There hadn’t been anyone standing in front of him. She’d just been in the mirror, staring out at him as if the space between the gilded frame had been a doorway not a pane of glass. He crossed the room and touched the surface of the mirror. Despite the bizarreness of what had just happened, he didn’t really believe he’d feel anything but the cool, smooth surface of the glass.

Shock jolted through him for the second time that evening when the molecules of his fingers seemed to meld with those of the mirror. He wondered if it hadn’t been his imagination when a second later he pressed his fingertips against a solid pane of glass.

“You really didn’t see anyone?” he asked Ramiro as he turned around.

Ramiro shook his head.

There was no way in hell Ryan wouldn’t have noticed the back of that woman if she stood in front of him. That flimsy excuse for a nightgown wouldn’t have completely covered her bare ass.
Uh uh—not a possibility. As a healthy, red-blooded male, Ryan knew for a fact he would have noticed that.

“Dios, Daire. I think you saw a ghost.”

Ryan shot Ramiro an annoyed look. “I didn’t see a ghost. She was perfectly solid.”

Perfectly gorgeous.

He recalled the startled expression in her velvety black eyes. “She looked as surprised to see me as I did her,” Ryan said.

“What’d she look like?”

A pair of full, shapely breasts and succulent, fat nipples pressing against transparent cloth that did nothing to hide their rosy hue flashed into Ryan’s mind’s eye. The potent eroticism of the recalled image made his cock jerk in his boxer briefs.

What’d she look like? Edible. Delicious. Like an angel on a mission of sin.

“Dark hair. Dark eyes,” he muttered. For some reason he felt hesitant about sharing even a basic description of the woman with Ramiro.

“You saw a ghost all right. This house is haunted,” Ramiro declared as he glanced around, his feet shifting nervously.

Ryan couldn’t help but grin. “I thought you were a big, bad vice detective. Since when are you scared of a little tiny female?”

Ramiro gave him an insulted look. “Ever since the ‘little tiny female’ is dead.”

“She’s not dead.”

Ramiro looked a little taken aback by Ryan’s hard tone. “Whatever, man.” Ramiro shivered and started toward the door. The image of his brawny partner shuddering reflexively struck Ryan as markedly odd, not to mention alarming for some reason.

“The only time I saw you get so pale was when you got shot,” Ramiro said. “Take my advice and sell this place quick as you can. I’ll take the likes of a slimy rat like Anton Chirnovsky any day versus a haunted house. Come on. Crenshaw will be waiting for us at Bureau Headquarters. We’re making sure Chirnovsky has his story straight and is in good voice before we strap the wires on him for Donahue’s downfall this weekend.”

Ryan closed the heavy wardrobe door with a brisk bang, perhaps hoping to shatter the fey spell wrought by the vision of the stunning woman. He didn’t believe in ghosts and he was every bit as eager to nail Jim Donahue for human trafficking as Ramiro was.

Still, he lingered in the doorway, casting his gaze around the empty bedroom warily before he shut out the light.

DC: You’ve quite a number of books published in the last couple of years. Have you found it difficult to come up with storylines, have a problem with writer’s block, or something equally scary? Or has the excitement of it all kept the creative juices flowing with no problem at all?

BK: You know, Sandy, I thank my lucky stars at this point in my life it’s the latter. I realize it likely won’t always be that way, but I’ll have to take my earlier advice and celebrate the moment while it’s here.

DC: What’s next on the horizon for Beth Kery?

BK: My next book is Through Her Eyes from Ellora’s Cave on April 29. I have several books coming out this year from Berkley: Daring Time on May 5; Sweet Restraint on July 7; Paradise Rules on October 6, followed by Release in February 2010. Beyond that, I’d be happy to have the opportunities to keep on writing, if anyone wants to give them to me.

Favorite paranormal author?
Mary Stewart

Contemp?
Sandra Brown

Historical?
Margaret Atwood (also a favorite for futuristic)

Favorite paranormal book?
Probably The Hollow Hills by Mary Stewart. I’ve re-read it a million times.
If Time Travel is ‘paranormal,’ then Time and Again by Jack Finney.

Contemp?
Any old Loveswept or Bantam book by Sandra Brown, like Temperature’s Rising or A Whole New Light. I feel as if I learned romance and steam from Sandra. I like her new stuff, too, but her old stuff creates such a sense of nostalgia and longing in me. I told someone once in an interview, if you want to get most of my stuff in a nutshell, it’s Sandra Brown gone erotic. From my opinion of course, not anyone else’s–like her fans or Sandra herself.

Historical?
Oh, reverting from romance again, sorry. Alias Grace by Margaret Atwood.

Lightning Round:

- dark or milk chocolate?
Milk.
- smooth or chunky peanut butter?
Smooth
- heels or flats?
Heels (although my nieces roll their eyes at me as they look darling in their flats.)
- coffee or tea?
Coffee with cream only.
- summer or winter?
Summer.
- mountains or beach?
Mountains.
- mustard or mayonnaise?
Mustard—spicy.
- flowers or candy?
Flowers.
- pockets or purse?
Purse.
- Pepsi or Coke?
Diet Pepsi

- ebook or print?
Doh! Print probably, until I get used to be my lovely Kindle anyway.

And because we like these:

1. What is your favorite word?
Lustrous.
2. What is your least favorite word?
Was (Yes, I still use it too much.)
3. What turns you on creatively, spiritually or emotionally?
People who are scared, but do it anyway…even if it’s not pretty.
4. What turns you off creatively, spiritually or emotionally?
People who act like they know everything.
5. What sound or noise do you love?
I live in the city. My white noise machine signals relaxation.
6. What sound or noise do you hate?
Pounding nails, garbage trucks….anything cacophonous.
7. What is your favorite curse word?
Fuck.
8. What profession other than your own would you like to attempt?
FBI agent.
9. What profession would you not like to do?
Teacher—not because I don’t appreciate them enormously. I just come from a family of teachers and professors and wanted to do something different.
10. If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you
arrive at the Pearly Gates?
“I’m so proud of you—you took a real chance to get here!”
DC: Beth, thank you for chatting with us today.  It’s been a pleasure!

In case you haven’t heard, Sandra Brown‘s Smoke Screen went on sale today!  And you know what that means?  Goodies for readers! First up, the author is holding a contest to benefit the Muscular Dystrophy Association. Readers who make a donation to MDA, and forward their receipt to Sandra, will be entered into a drawing to win an autographed copy of Smoke Screen. The contest ends on September 2 and all the details can be found at Sandra’s blog.

We also have a little teaser for readers, an excerpt of Smoke Screen‘s prologue as well as the book trailer. Just a little taste to whet your appetite and build anticipation for when you get your hands on your own copy! Enjoy!

E-X-C-E-R-P-T

Thank God he was still asleep.

Waking up to find herself in bed with Jay Burgess was embarrassing enough without having to look him in the eye. At least not until she had time to collect herself.

As carefully as possible, she inched to the side of the bed and slipped out from under the sheet, trying not to lift it away from him in the process. She perched on the very edge of the mattress and glanced over her shoulder. The draft from the air conditioning vent above the bed was cold, causing goose bumps to break out on her arms. But although Jay was naked and covered only to his waist, the chilly air hadn’t roused him. Shifting her weight from the bed to her feet a little at a time, she stood up.

The room tilted. To keep from falling, she instinctually reached out for support. Her hand found the wall with a smack that just as well have been a cymbal crash for the reverberation it created in the silent house. No longer as concerned about waking him as wondering how in the world she’d gotten so terribly drunk last night, she remained propped against the wall, taking deep breaths, focusing on one spot until her equilibrium returned.

Miraculously, her clumsiness hadn’t awakened Jay. Spying her underpants, she crept to the foot of the bed and retrieved them, then tiptoed around the room, gathering strewn articles of her clothing, hugging each garment against her chest in a gesture of modesty, which under the circumstances was rather ridiculous.

The walk of shame. The college phrase seemed apropos. It referred to coeds who sneaked out of a guy’s bedroom after spending the night with him. She was way past college age, and both she and Jay were single, free to sleep together if they chose.

If they chose.

The phrase struck her like the cruel pop of a snapped rubber band.

Suddenly, the shock of waking up in Jay’s bed was replaced by the alarming realization that she didn’t remember how she’d got there. She didn’t recall making a conscious decision to sleep with him. She didn’t remember weighing the pros and cons and deciding in favor of it. She didn’t remember being wooed until practicality was obscured by sensuality. She didn’t remember giving a mental shrug and thinking What the hell? We’re adults.

She didn’t remember anything.

Looking round, she took in the layout and furnishings of the bedroom. It was a pleasant room, tastefully decorated and tailored for a man who lived alone. But nothing in it was familiar to her. Nothing. It was as though she was seeing it for the first time.

Obviously it was Jay’s place; there were pictures of him scattered about, mostly vacation snapshots with various friends of both sexes. But she had never been in this room before, nor in this house. She wasn’t even certain of the street address, although she had a vague recollection of walking here from. . .from somewhere.

Yes, The Wheelhouse. She and Jay had met there for a drink. He’d already had several when she arrived, but that wasn’t uncommon. Jay liked spirits and had an amazing tolerance for large quantities of alcohol. She had ordered a glass of white wine. They’d sat and chatted over their drinks, catching up on what was happening in each other’s life.

Then he said -

Remembering now what he’d told her, she shivered, but not from cold. She covered her mouth to catch a low moan and looked back at him where he lay sleeping. She whispered a sorrowful, “Oh, Jay,” repeating the first words she’d uttered when he broke the awful news to her last night.

Can we continue this conversation at my place? he’d asked. I’ve moved since I’ve seen you. An elderly aunt died and left me all her worldly goods. Lots of china, crystal, antique furniture, stuff like that. I sold all of it to a dealer and bought a townhouse with the proceeds. It’s a short walk.

He was chatty, acting as though they’d been talking about nothing more worrisome than the approach of hurricane season, but his news had been a bombshell. Terrible. Impossible to believe. She’d been staggered by it. Had compassion moved her to affection? Did that explain the lovemaking that had followed?

Lord, why couldn’t she remember?

Searching for answers as well as the rest of her clothing, she went into the living room. Her dress and cardigan were bunched up in a chair, her sandals were on the floor. There was an open bottle of scotch and two glasses on the table in front of the sofa. Only an inch of whisky remained in the bottle. The cushions of the sofa were rumpled and dented, as though someone had been wallowing on them.

Apparently she and Jay.

Quickly she went back through the bedroom, finding the bathroom on the far side of it. She managed to close the door without making a sound, a precaution that was canceled out a moment later when she retched noisily into the toilet. Her stomach was seized by painful spasms as it disgorged what seemed to be gallons of scotch. Never a big fan of scotch, she knew with absolutely certainty that she would never touch a drop of it again.

She found toothpaste in the mirrored cabinet above the sink and used her index finger to scrub the film and bad taste from her mouth. That helped, but she still felt rather shabby and decided to shower. When she faced Jay, she would feel more confident and less embarrassed over the excesses of last night if she was clean.

The stall was a tile enclosure with a large, round shower head mounted into the ceiling. Standing directly beneath the simulated rainfall, she lathered and rinsed several times. She washed carefully and thoroughly between her legs. She shampooed her hair.

Once out of the shower, she didn’t tarry. Surely all the noise she’d made had woken him up by now. She dressed, used his hairbrush to smooth out her wet hair, then bolstered her courage with a deep breath and opened the bathroom door.

Jay was still asleep. How could that be? He was a well-conditioned drinker, but apparently last night had been an overindulgence even for him. How much scotch had been in the bottle when they began to drink from it? Between them, had they nearly emptied a whole fifth?

They must have. Otherwise why couldn’t she remember taking off her clothes and having sex with Jay Burgess? Years ago, they’d had a brief affair that soon flamed out, ending long before it developed into a bona fide relationship. Neither’s heart was broken. There hadn’t been a scene or a formal break-up of any kind. They’d simply stopped dating, but had remained friends.

But Jay, charming and irrepressible Jay, hadn’t stopped trying to lure her back into his bed whenever their paths crossed. “Having a roll in the sack and staying friends aren’t mutually exclusive,” he’d say with his most engaging smile. That hadn’t been her experience, and she’d told him so each time he tried to talk her into a sleep-over for old time’s sake.

Last night, he must have persuaded her.

She would’ve expected him to be up early this morning to gloat over his conquest, waking her up with a kiss and a teasing invitation to have breakfast in bed. She could almost hear him saying, Since you’re here, you just as well relax and enjoy the full Burgess treatment.

Or why hadn’t he joined her in the shower? That would be a Jay kind of thing to do. He would step in with her and say something like You missed a spot on your back. Oops, and here’s one on your front, too. But the shower hadn’t disturbed him. Not even the repeated flushing of the toilet.

How could he sleep through all that? He hadn’t even -

Moved.

Her stomach gave a heaving motion like an ocean wave. Soured scotch filled her throat, and she feared she was about to be sick again. She swallowed hard. “Jay?” she said tentatively. Then louder. “Jay?”

Nothing. No sigh or snuffle. Not even a slight shift of position.

She stood rooted to the floor, her heart thumping hard now. Forcing herself to move, she lurched toward the bed, hand outstretched to touch his shoulder and give it a firm shake.

“Jay!”

Sandy M’s review of Play Dirty by Sandra Brown
Romantic Suspense released by Pocket 22 Jul 08

I’m always amazed at how Sandra Brown takes the unlikeliest of characters, brings them together in ways that have them either suspicious of one another or disliking each other, and the next thing we know those characters are set on a course for the relationship of a lifetime after going through hell and back to get there. The rides we’re given with her heroes and heroines are always extraordinary, and Griff and Laura in Play Dirty are among the best of Brown’s main characters yet. Griff has just been released from prison, serving five years for racketeering. He had it all as the Dallas Cowboys star quarterback, but when he made the decision to throw a couple of games for big bucks, how the mighty fell from grace. He’s now lost everything, including friends and what family he was lucky to have after being abandoned as a teenager. Getting a job, even the most menial, is harder than he ever thought. Then the most outrageous proposition comes his way.

I agreed with Griff when he thought Foster Speakman was a freakin’ whack job. But when a man is as down and out as Griff, he can only refuse temptation for so long. Speakman and his wife, Laura, want a child. Because of injuries he sustained in an auto accident, he can’t do the deed anymore, so they turn to Griff because of his similarities in appearance to Foster — they want their child to look as much like Foster as possible so no one will ever doubt the child is his. Once Griff gets past the craziness of a man offering his wife up to be screwed by another man, he goes for it. He’ll be as rich as sin when it’s all said and done. And it’s been a long five years without sex. Why not take the cake and eat it too.

Laura is driven by guilt and agrees to most anything her husband asks of her, but this latest scheme is almost more than she can bear. She doesn’t want to have sex with another man, but she does it anyway to finally have the child they’ve always wanted, although she wants it to be Foster’s. The times she meets Griff for their Foster-sanctioned rendezvous are done very realistically from her perspective. I enjoyed the dichotomy of watching Laura and Foster’s relationship disintegrate while her association with Griff grows and eventually blossoms, all due to the same set of circumstances and the eventual deterioration of a man’s tragic life.

In between all these goings-on, Griff is being hounded by a man working for the organization that brought his downfall around in the first place. Friends begin to be threatened and even injured to wring any leftover information out of Griff to their satisfaction. There’s several major twists that caught me completely unaware and made me gasp in disbelief. Ms. Brown is a pro at deceiving her readers, making them think one thing while something totally different is going on. She does that beautifully in this book. It’s as subtle as sleight of hand. You don’t see it coming until it’s staring you in the face and you have no idea how you missed it.

I really like Griff. Getting caught and paying for his crimes makes him definitely grow up and realize how stupid he was. He sees how he hurt those who love him. He loses his selfishness and garners a sensitiveness that sneaks in under the radar and makes you begin to love him, as does Laura. He still goes through hell after his stint in prison and I felt deflated right along with him, wondering if he’s ever going to get a break. But he perseveres, fights for those he loves and for what’s right.

Laura’s life follows a similar pattern as Griff’s in that she has it all at one point too, but her fall is due to nothing of her own making. You begin to cheer for her just as strenuously as you do Griff.

For a number of years now my favorite Sandra Brown book has been The Alibi. Play Dirty is very close to toppling it from its pedestal and taking over the top spot.

Grade: A+

Summary:

After five long years in federal prison, Griff Burkett is a free man. But the disgraced Cowboys quarterback can never return to life as he knew it before he was caught cheating. In a place where football is practically a religion, Griff committed a cardinal sin, and no one is forgiving.

Foster Speakman, owner and CEO of SunSouth Airlines, and his wife, Laura, are a golden couple. Successful and wealthy, they lived a charmed life before fate cruelly intervened and denied them the one thing they wanted most — a child. It’s said that money can’t buy everything. But it can buy a disgraced football player fresh out of prison and out of prospects.

The job Griff agrees to do for the Speakmans demands secrecy. But he soon finds himself once again in the spotlight of suspicion. An unsolved murder comes back to haunt him in the form of his nemesis, Stanley Rodarte, who has made Griff’s destruction his life’s mission. While safeguarding his new enterprise, Griff must also protect those around him, especially Laura Speakman, from Rodarte’s ruthlessness. Griff stands to gain the highest payoff he could ever imagine, but cashing in on it will require him to forfeit his only chance for redemption…and love.

Griff is now playing a high-stakes game, and at the final whistle, one player will be dead.

Read an excerpt.

We have drawn the five winners of the Sandra Brown Talks Movies And Books Contest! The lucky winners need to e-mail Sybil with their shipping address information. Congratulations!

And the winners are:

Dianna Stoutenburg

Lisa Martin

Natasha

Emma Sanders

Ellyn Houston

Ordinarily you’d expect me to blog about books, a topic near and dear to my heart! And I’ve been reading some good ones lately. Ever read Jack Ketchum? Sadly, I hadn’t until my son, Ryan introduced me to him, and while browsing in my local bookstore recently, I ran across a reprint of an early book of his called The Lost. Ketchum is a horror writer but this book is a thriller – in the strictest sense of the word. The prologue is gripping, and it never lets up. It’s not a book for the faint of heart, but I couldn’t put it down.

Okay, see, how obsessed I am with books? I can’t help myself. I set out to do a blog about movies, and instead I’m talking about books and writers. By the way. . .bear with me, this is cool. There I was at the ThrillerFest cocktail party, mixing and mingling, and trying not to make a complete fool of myself when introduced to the book industry’s best. Then, I happened to glance over my shoulder and spotted my husband Michael in conversation with Clive Cussler. Clive Cussler! Whom I’ve never even met. Michael waved me over and said, “Sandra, this is Clive,” like they’d been friends for years.

Turns out, it was actually Mr. Cussler who approached Michael and introduced himself. Someone in the crowd had pointed out Michael as a car collector. Mr. Cussler has 105 classic cars, so they had a lot to talk about! I was dazzled, not only to be in the presence of a fiction legend, but to learn firsthand what I’d been told – Clive Cussler is a class act, a gentleman, and as nice an individual as anyone could possibly hope to meet.

Oh, this was cool, too. The following day, when Michael and I disembarked at DFW and were on our way to baggage claim, we passed an airport bookstore. Front and center were books by Clive Cussler, Jon Land, Lee Child, Brad Thor, James Patterson, Douglas Preston, Harlan Coben. . .all of whom we’d been with the evening before. I realized how fortunate I am to know so many outstanding talents. And those are just the writers who have new books out and presently in the front racks.

Oh, right. . .movies. I thought I should blog about that since this is the summer movie season. (Not to be confused with the summer book season and the BIG book this year – Smoke Screen.)

Ahem. Habit. I’m sorry.

I want to see “Mamma Mia!” I saw it on Broadway, and you can’t beat the music. And what a cast! Eye candy for sure. I plan to check my brain at the door, have a bucket of popcorn, and dance in the aisles to “Dancing Queen.”
I love movies. I’m often asked, “What’s your all-time favorite?” Impossible to say because there are so many. Some I’ve watched dozens of times. And you can bet that, if I come across a favorite while channel surfing, I’ll join them in progress and stay with them until they’re over. “The Godfather,” is one. “Shawshank Redemption” is another. A second with Morgan Freeman, “Driving Miss Daisy.” I have to watch until Hoke feeds her a bite of Thanksgiving pumpkin pie.

I can’t not watch “Legends of the Fall.” I adore “One Fine Day” and “Love Actually.” That last scene in the airport when people from everywhere in the world are being met by loved ones while “God Only Knows” is playing. . .well, I get choked up every time.

And if you’ve never seen “Dear Frankie,” with Gerard Butler and Emily Mortimer, get it. A friend recommended it and I fell in love with this quiet little film. I’ve watched it at least a dozen times. I dare you to watch it and not get teary-eyed.

Is it just me, or do you miss movies about people? Grown up people. Real people. Not spoofy, goofy people or comic book characters personified, but actual human beings. Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate special effects and animation. I think they’re terrific. I can’t wait to see “The Dark Knight,” the new Batman movie, and I’m a big fan of “Toy Story,” and “Cars.”

But I miss movies where the story is the star and the main characters are relatable. I don’t mind a bit — indeed I look forward to — watching all six hours of the BBC’s production of “Pride and Prejudice” with Colin Firth and Jennifer Ehle. I’ve sat through it ten times, yet I never tire of it. But my taste is eclectic. I’ve done the same with “An Officer and a Gentleman.” I could practically recite the script. It never gets old.

I miss the movies of the great Sydney Pollack, who died not long ago. “This Property is Condemned“, starring “newcomer” Robert Redford, I saw the summer I graduated from high school, on a date. I loved it then, and still do. “Love With the Proper Stranger,” with Steve McQueen and Natalie Wood. Black and white, but fabulous. “The Way We Were,” “Tootsie,” and one of my all time favorites, “Out of Africa.” When the lion and lioness come and lie on Finch Hatten’s grave. . . Here I go again. Pass the Kleenex.

You’re bound to note a partiality to love stories, but I like war movies and westerns, too. I like historicals and contemporary. I don’t mind nudity (depending on who’s nude) or graphic language, although the four letter words can get a bit boring. My one criteria is the story. It’s all about the story. Just like books. . .
See? It’s compulsive.

If you have a must-see movie list, I’d love you to share it.

Contest Alert! Five lucky winners will be chosen to receive an advanced copy of Smoke Screen!  What’s the catch?  We want reviews!  Either on your own  blog, or right here at the pond.   All you have to do is comment on this post with some of your “must see movie” suggestions for Sandra.  Good luck!

Sandy M’s review of Ricochet by Sandra Brown
Romantic Suspense published by Simon & Schuster 15 Aug 06

Every time I pick up a book by Sandra Brown, I always ask myself why in the heck I waited so darned long to read her again. She keeps me riveted to the page, she keeps me guessing, she keeps me interested, and she keeps the story right where it should be, front and center on the main characters.

Deception is always the name of the game in a Sandra Brown novel. Deception among and between characters and deception for the reader. One thing seems to something but it’s usually something else. The hero, Duncan Hatcher, is being deceived left and right in this book, but he’s a cop and most of the time he can keep the bullshit separate from the truth. This time around, however, when it comes to Elise Laird, he’s so drawn to her that he wants to believe her, trust her, but all the evidence begins to pile up and it looks like she’s guilty of murder.

Twice. Duncan is a good man, an honorable man. He takes pride in his police work. When his recent perp is released by Judge Cato Laird, Duncan begins to question if he’s doing any good when it comes to getting criminals off the streets. Then he meets Mrs. Laird and even his morality, like the sanctity of marriage, begins to crumble.

If Duncan is straight up honest, Elise is as evasive and dishonest as you can get. He doesn’t believe a word she says when he and his partner investigate a shooting in her home, the smoking pistol in her hand. Everything looks and sounds above board as explained by the judge, but Duncan has that gut feeling that something’s not quite right. The more they dig, the more questions come to light until their case has grown into a very elaborate one covering a multitude of characters.

Elise is a very complicated character. You never know whether to trust her or not and you feel for Duncan, knowing he has feelings for her and there’s not a damned thing he can do about it. As we learn more and more of her story and the woman she truly is is revealed little by little, both you and Duncan are in loads of trouble. Every character in this book has multiple sides and you get to see every one of them.

The storyline itself has just as many sides, but you never get lost, you just keep hanging onto every word through all the twists and turns, ricocheting from one unbelievable event to another, until it’s finally time for you to find out exactly what the story is. Ms. Brown is one of the best at romantic suspense, keeping us riveted with hardly any effort at all.

I’ve made a promise to myself not to wait so long in between Sandra Brown books. And I’ll keep it if I know what’s good for me.

Grade: A+

Summary:
Homicide detective Duncan Hatcher is called to the home of a superior court judge to investigate a fatal shooting. Enter Elise Laird, the judge’s trophy wife, who’s awfully cool, calm and collected considering there’s a dead man on the floor of the study.

Elise’s account of the shooting is sketchy at best, and Duncan begins to suspect it’s a fabrication to protect herself from prosecution. His investigation into Elise’s murky past convinces him she’s a liar, a manipulator, and more than likely a killer.

And then she throws him for a loop.

Not knowing whom to believe, Duncan is ensnared in a murder case that tests his logic, his reliable gut instinct, and his unshakeable integrity. He trusts the word of no one except the ruthless crime lord who has pledged to eliminate him.

And he trusts least the woman he wants most.

Read an excerpt.

THIS JUST IN… 

Sandra Brown is bringing new meaning to the phrase “March Madness”…

Sandra has finished her next novel Smoke Screen, given her website a make over and added some new features, created a BLOG, and, the really big big big news, she has optioned THE WITNESS for a feature film!

Go check out the her new digs! As well as her video newsletters.. tres coolio.

Now to figure out what the heck Smoke Screen is about… anyone know?