Most of the time you'll find me at the keyboard, moving between the 5 projects I tackle at a time.
- Aimee St. Claire
- Amy Redwood
- Cate Masters
- Debra Kayn
- Haven Rich
- Jen Bluekissed
- Keta Diablo
- Lainey Bancroft
- Lucy Woodhull
- Lynne DuMae
- Moonlight, Lace, & Mayhem
- Regina Carlysle
- Romantic Inks
- Sela Carsen
- Tales From the Crit
- Tammie Jin
- The Naughty Girls Next Door
- Three Wicked Writers
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
whatever. I was on a tight deadline to enter the Delacorte Yealing Contest.
Today was the deadline to have it postmarked by June 30th. I finished and
polished everything by 8 am and my printer died. I went to my mom's house, my
friend's house. I tried to email my documents, plug my laptop into their
printers but nothing was compatible or I'm just too stupid to figure it out. Now
the post office is closed and I don't think they accept Fed Ex so my hopes are
dwindling. And of course they won't take electronic submissions.
Is there any kind soul out there willing to print my cover letter and manuscript
(98 pages) Middle Grade novel and hand deliver it to their offices tomorrow? I
thought I'd give it a shot and ask to see if anyone is close. I will be your
slave for life. Email me if you think you can help at
Here is the office address:
Delacorte Yearling Contest
Random House, Inc.
1745 Broadway, 9th Floor
New York, NY 10019
Sunday, June 28, 2009
I am prolific.
Not just prolific, but PROLIFIC. I have so many damn ideas running around my head at any given time, I have to keep a notebook with me at all times just to write down the sudden flashes of story that come into my brainpan. Sometimes they hit me like a Jimmy Choo pump shot from a cannon at high velocity. Other times I wake from sleep and have to jot down the wild kernals of some dream I just had. It doesn't matter how the ideas come to me...they just do. And they won't leave me the hell alone.
I have to purge.
The problem with having so many ideas at once is that unless I get the clutter of story ideas and snippets of dialogue out of my head, I can't work on the wips I have open and need to get out the door. It's disgusting. Really. I have so many ideas, I'll never be able to write them all in this lifetime, which is why I'm really pulling for reincarnation and that I'll have the inclination to write in my next life. Which just made me think of another story idea. Damn! There it goes again - my flights of fancy that take off like a herd of wildebeast on the Serengetti with a lion on their collective asses.
I guess I shouldn't complain.
It's always better to have too many ideas than not enough. The problem is finding the time to write them all. I wish I wrote as fast as I read. I'd be able to crank out a novel every day or two. However, it is nice that when I see a special call for submissions, I generally have an idea in reserve that I can shape up and send. Though I generally am not working on that project and have to stop what I'm working on and start something new. Which brings me to another piece of brain clutter - the fact my hard drive is littered with half-finished projects.
Case in point.
I'm working on a galley for a book - a dark paranormal coming soon from The Wild Rose Press. Every time I work on this galley, I want to finish the sequel that's been relegated to half-done status for about three years now. Well, for months I've thought I only had about 19K written on this book. As I opened the file yesterday just to check the word count - I was shocked to discover I'm at 29K. Huh, what? I'm almost at the actual halfway point and I haven't worked in it since? Are you kidding me? What was I thinking?
It's that damn mind clutter again. Or just a simple case of SOS - Shiney Object Syndrome.
-So, I'm curious does anyone else get brain clutter where they can't work for the ideas roaming in their heads?
Saturday, June 27, 2009
You can purchase THIRTY-NINE AGAIN at Amazon.com, BN.com or through the publisher, The Wild Rose Press (www.thewildrosepress.com). Links to all these are up at Lynn's website, www.lynnreynolds.com.
When/how did you know you wanted to write?
I have been writing for as long as I can remember. I loved living in my little imaginary worlds and making up stories about myself as a princess or space explorer. Or space exploring princes. In high school, I wrote a very silly serial called The Guam Syndrome, which featured some pretty wild satires of all the teachers. It was a huge underground hit with my classmates and fortunately no teacher ever caught me. Well, one did, but he was this ex-hippie, radical type who thought the whole thing was hilarious and actually encouraged me to keep it up. I’ve been writing ever since, although mostly as a journalist and publicist in my adult life.
Do you see yourself writing in the same genre in 10 years? If not then what?
I don’t see me doing anything ten years from now that I’m doing now! Except staying married to my wonderful hubby and still being a mom, of course. I tend to be pretty restless and would fully expect I’d be writing in a totally different genre. Although I’m sure there’d always be some romance in there!
Do you write your stories out with pencil and paper first or do you work straight on the computer?
I almost always write the first draft out by hand, using a nice sharp pencil and an old-fashioned copybook. No worries about hard drive crashes or batteries running down!
Getting back to your new book. Tell us a little about what to expect.
Thirty-Nine Again is a "chick noir" novel about Sabrina O’Hara. She's a fortyish breast cancer survivor who discovers her boyfriend is leading a double life. Now she's on the run from him, his friends in the Mexican Mafia, and the very sexy Homeland Security agent who's investigating the case.
Chick noir is a little like chick lit - only with guns and dead bodies instead of shoes!
When and where can we purchase your books?
Thirty-Nine Again is sold directly by The Wild Rose Press as an e-book or print book. You can also order the print editions from Amazon.com or BarnesandNoble.com.
If you had a book club, what would it be reading — and why?
Well, after we finished reading the complete works of Jane Austen yet again, I’d suggest we read Elizabeth Hoyt’s Legend of the Four Soldiers series. I love how she’s used a little-known event in American history to create these stories about emotionally damaged war veterans and the women who love them and help them resume their lives.
For contemporary reading, I’d strongly suggest the club read Tori Carrington’s Sofie Metropolis series, which feature the funny, sexy adventures of a Greek-American aspiring detective – Sofie.
Give us three "Good to Know" facts about you. Be creative. Tell us about your first job, the inspiration for your writing, any fun details that would enliven your page.
Three fun facts about me:
I was briefly a child model and did a TV advertisement for a nursery school and even did a few runway shows.
I know most of Hamlet’s part in Shakespeare’s play of the same name by heart. I’m just a frustrated actress and playwright and have read it over and over again and watched about a dozen productions.
I can touch the tip of my nose with my tongue.
Do you have any advice to fledgling authors?
Don’t be in such a hurry to get published. I have found it really hard to balance learning how to do self-promotion and publicity with writing a new book. I wish I had a stockpile of finished manuscripts I could draw on to take the pressure off whle trying to promote THIRTY-NINE AGAIN, but I only have one other completed book right now. Well, only one that I’m willing to let other people read!
Do you belong to a critique group or have a critique partner? Which do you prefer?
I tried some face-to-face critique groups but they tended to get kind of mean-spirited. Or they just didn’t do much actual critiquing. I’ve been involved with a great online critique group sponsored by the Elements Chapter of the RWA and that has worked out really well for me.
Would you recommend critique groups to other writers? If so, what elements, in your opinion, make a successful writer’s group?
I think a critique group can be very helpful as long as all the members treat each other with respect. If you’re feeling beaten down and belittled, then it’s not a good group for you!
Is there anything else you’d like to share with our readers?
I’d like to mention that a portion of all my royalties from THIRTY-NINE AGAIN will be donated to breast cancer awareness charities. I have some friends who are breast cancer survivors, and since the heroine of the story is a breast cancer survivor, I felt like this would be a good way to honor my friends and other women dealing with cancer.
Thanks for inviting me to Wicked, Thorn and Roses!
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Well, Johnny is a young man trying to find Mr right and has a few mishaps along the way with wayward men. With the subtle hints and gentle guiding hand from his Mama, he eventually does find the right man for him. But even Mama can't predict what happens once Johnny does find his true love. Tragedy strikes...And nothing will be the same for Johnny or Mama again.
Here is an excerpt (unedited) from when Johnny meets Sam (who he thinks is the one)
A young man moved in next door with his
parents. I know this because as I sat down to
watch TV that night, there he was on my doorstep
asking me if I had a cup of sugar. I knew it was his
way of getting to know me, to break the ice as it
were. An action which I found quite endearing. I
had to give him credit for that. I didn’t even know
the house next door was for sale, to be honest.
His name was Sam. He was tall—God, he was
tall. I thought I was an ample height, but this guy
could be a goal shooter for a basketball team, no
worries at all. He had a majestic nose that didn’t
seem to quite fit onto his face and his lips were
thin. But that didn’t matter. He was attractive to
me in an odd sort of way. His sparkling eyes were
his greatest asset and more than made up for any
beauty he may have lacked. I had a weakness for
To my surprise, and a pleasant one at that, he
patted me tenderly on my arse as I handed him
“You like the boys?” I said, emulating my
He nodded enthusiastically and smiled in reply,
revealing large eye teeth.
The next thing I remember, we were huddled
on my bed, naked and enjoying each others kisses.
Sam had a foreskin, but not like Frank’s. His
didn’t quite cover the head of his cock and his piss
slit could be seen even when he was flaccid. It
looked like his dick was wearing an ill-fitting
hood, and it retracted easily when I pulled on it.
Quite attractive really. He tasted different, too. His
taste was less strong, sweeter than Frank. He also
groaned a lot as I pleasured him, spurring me on
to roll my tongue more and more around his cock.
I loved it, as did he, obviously.
Then softly, and with a voice that wavered
slightly as he spoke, he asked if he could please
me, to return the favour I had given him. He was
so wonderful. So innocent. So darn fucking cute. I
couldn’t say no to him.
And yes, you guessed it, Mama had even
warned me about men that you couldn’t say no to.
“He’ll break your beautiful heart, Johnny,” she
said as she sipped on a freshly brewed
cappuccino, one that filled the house with its
I tried to tell her that when I was with Sam I
forgot about Ainsley.
She shot me a glance. One that meant you’ll see.
I drank my coffee, the soft subtle scent of her
favourite red roses tickled my nose. “Why have
you changed the roses to red? I haven’t seen red
roses in the house since I was a boy.”
“I am giving you hope. You need that if you
want to be with your true love.”
Sam was inexperienced—as I had been with
Sags—and at first he licked my end as one would
an ice-cream on a hot summer’s day. I had to
gently show him how I liked it by placing myself
into his mouth. He seemed to like being taught
and responded better than I would have thought
to my lead.
Most guys would get offended when
you had to show them. Brett almost certainly
would have been one of those kind of men. Not
Sam. His blue eyes twinkled as he looked up right
into my eyes as my cock slowly disappeared into
his mouth and his magnificent nose became
buried in my pubes. He caught on real quick.
When I thought he had sucked me enough, I
pulled him off, and just like a babe that had been
taken away from a teat, he whined. He even gave
me a morose expression, as if what I had done
offended him. I giggled. I wanted more from him
than just a blow job. I wanted his body.
It was then that I took him into the bedroom
and gently laid him down onto the bed. He looked
at me, puzzled about why I had stopped. That
expression didn’t last long when I moved so I was
positioned between his legs, legs that seemed to be
everywhere all at once, because he was so lanky.
As I sidled into the perfect spot, I stroked his hard,
yet tender cock— made softer by his excess skin.
He groaned in the delicious way he did, smiling
up at me. It was then, when the moment of realisation
struck him, that I pushed myself gently into his
warmth. Sam yelped out and shut his eyes tight
after a pained expression crossed his face. I had
obviously hurt him. I embraced him, nudging my
face into his neck and laying on hot, wet kisses all
over him. I felt terrible.
I pulled myself out.
He quickly calmed and his breathing returned
to normal as I lay on top of him, reassuring him.
Moments later, as I looked upon him, took in as
much of him as I could, he smiled again, nodding
that he wanted more.
He stared at me with those beautiful twinkling
eyes and moaned constantly as I fucked him. I was
now sitting up so I could push myself deeper and
I could see his stomach quiver as I moved
rhythmically inside him. He was soon in the
throes of rapture.
“Fuck!” was all he could manage as he shot a
great wad of cum across his stomach with such
force that some found his face. What was also so
brilliant about Sam was that his muscles tensed so
much when he orgasmed, I could feel his ring
tighten around me. I blew seconds later, unable to
control myself as I looked at his sweat covered
skin and then into his lovely innocent eyes. He
licked his lips, taking in some of his own juice. I
joined him. He tasted sweet, like his cock.
We fucked each other for most of the night,
only stopping for refreshments and food.
It went on like this for weeks, our sex. Each
time he gasped and moaned and acted as coy as if
I were with him for the first time. God he was hot.
Sam had everything I could ever want in a lover,
charming, sweet and caring. I thought he was the
How wrong I was.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Just when everything was starting to weigh down on me I got invited to spend the evening on a houseboat for a sunset dinner cruise with some wonderful writers. How could I say no to that? I had never been to that part of Arizona and was looking forward to the trip. I had no expectations about the day.
Once we got there, we took a tour of the large boat that belonged to Alexis and Bob Walker. They put a lot of effort in showing us a good time. The good time fell under the fabulous catagory though. We had beautiful scenery while having great conversation with people we don't get to see nearly enough. A quiet spot was found so we could stop for dinner and then made our way back to the dock. It lasted all evening.
The night turned out amazing. I was able to get to know some of the women better, brainstormed my novel problem and actually found the missing piece, and was able to fully relax. I walked away with new energy toward life in general and my writing. Make plans with a friend or two... and see what a few hours of fun does to you!
Talk to you soon,
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Hey all you wicked bloggers! I'm thrilled to be a part of The Brood Series coming soon to NCP. Here's an excerpt from Uncaged. Send me your thoughts.
When an African lion wakes up on board a ship bound for London in 1772, he has no choice but to shift into the very creature that has captured and caged him in order to free himself. Fifteen years have passed since the lion has called himself by his given name, Bruce Remington. Time enough to forget life as a man, but when Bruce meets the captain’s daughter, Wren Whittier, a lovely quadroon, the scent of a woman comes flooding back to him.
Once back in London, Bruce settles back into the shape shifter community, intent on reclaiming his life as a man and making Wren his wife. When the captain falls ill and dies, Wren is captured by a lynch mob and held prisoner by a small town of superstitious country folk on charges of witchcraft, though witch trials are a thing of the past. Bruce gathers every available London shape shifter and goes in search of the woman he loves. Will the heart of the lion, the very heart that binds them together be strong enough to free her before she’s burned at the stake?
Bruce fell asleep, hidden between two hefty crates near the northern deck, where the shadows grew longer and blacker. He even managed to steal a loaf of bread and some ale. The first time in ages since he had eaten something other than raw meat. The alcohol quickly took effect, lulling him into a deep sleep, but something roused him, something delicate and enticing.
He sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with thick thumbs. The black night sky was scattered with millions of twinkling stars. He sniffed and then smiled. The woman was near. Her scent wafted through the sea air like honeysuckle dancing on the wind. She stood overlooking the bow of the ship. Her skirt whipped around her dainty ankles. She was barefoot. Never had Bruce known a naked pair of feet to look so erotic. A deep throated growl emanated from within. He shook his head in an effort to yield the wild creature within. Luckily the wind masked the noise. Rising and stretching, he made his way to her side, stomping across deck to alert her of his coming. He didn’t want to startle her and cause her to cry out. She turned when she heard him approach, greeting him with a half smile, her lips curved on one side.
“Good evening, sir,” she said, turning to face him fully.
His eye caught the gleam of a topaz pendant, nestled between her full breasts. His cock stiffened at the sight, pushing against his newly acquired breeches. Breeches that suited his size perfectly, until now. He took her hand and kissed it. The scent of her burnished skin drove him mad with desire. He shut his eyes.
“Out for another smoke, sir?”
“Aye. I couldn’t sleep. Are you feeling better today, miss?”
“A bit. Thanks to you for inquiring,” she said, barely above a whisper. “Father is in a tizzy. All the fuss about the caged beast never setting sail with us.”
Bruce smiled. A sweaty lock of his long, blond hair fluttered against his sun burnt forehead. He worked on deck all day, pretending to be a crewmate. He even helped repair a torn sail. No one had been the wiser.
Bruce grunted. “Don’t see how a beast that size could be carried off without notice. Sounds an oddity for certain.”
“Father says the slaves must have taken him back off the ship the night before we set sail.”
“Does he really think they went to all that trouble and then carried an empty cage back on board?”
“Aye, sir. A lion will fetch a pretty price. He’d make a fine attraction at the fair, bringing in loads of money. The slaves most likely took him back to their master while the cat was still full of sleeping potion. There was never no need to carry back an empty cage. Now the master can sell him for whatever price he wants. According to Father, they tracked that particular beast for weeks before catching him.”
Bruce doubted that. He’d have sensed the men or at least caught a whiff of their scent. He’d been taken totally by surprise. “Seems particularly cruel to me,” he added.
“Aye. To me too, sir. Reminds me of my mother. She’s no different from the lion. She’s been captured, bought and sold again. Cruel, indeed.”
Wren looked up at him, seemingly noticing him for the first time. “Why did you say you were in Africa?”
Bruce cleared his throat. “I didn’t.” He could think of nothing other than the slave trade and then the perfect answer came to him like a flash of lightning. “I’m with the House of Lords.”
Wren wrinkled her nose. “A solicitor? Surely you jest, sir. You look nothing of the sort.”
Bruce was insulted. “I don’t look smart enough?”
“You seem highly intelligent, sir. It’s just that . . .”
Bruce cut her off. “What then?”
Even with her dark coloring, Bruce saw her blush.
“You just seem altogether too much man for such a job. You’re so virile. You seem more suited for the outdoors. I find it altogether impossible to picture you seated behind a desk, scribbling down law onto paper.”
She fancies me, then?
Bruce stuck his chest out. So, the lady found him attractive, handsome perhaps. This he could go with.
“I’ll have you know, miss, I am an astute member of Parliament. There’s much talk of abolishing slavery. I’ve come to investigate the matter further and take my vantage point back to my fellow solicitors.” When he’d lived in London, there had been much debate on the issue.
Wren nodded. “Forgive me, sir. I didn’t intend to insult you.”
“You’re forgiven. It was an honest mistake and besides, what man doesn’t like to be considered virile by a woman such as yourself?”
Wren dipped her head into the shadow of his looming chest. He was afraid he had embarrassed her or perhaps she didn’t believe him. With one finger, he tipped her chin up. “You think I only flatter you?”
Wren frowned. “My father is a terrible man. What is it you want to know? I care not for his love. He cares not for mine.”
Bruce stared at her before speaking. She was so lovely, so honest. It made his heart ache to see her living with such a man. “I know enough of your father, Wren.” He watched her face in the moonlight, sensing her distrust. “I want to know you.”
Wren smiled, letting out a sigh of relief. “Why? I am only the captain’s blackamoor.”
Bruce touched her cheek with the back of his hand and shook his head. “No, Wren. You are the loveliest creature I’ve ever seen. I’m quite smitten with you.”
“I’m guessing you didn’t come out here for a smoke?”
Bruce laughed. “You would be correct.”
“You came to see me? To speak with me?”
He nodded. “Aye. I fancy your company.”
Bruce nodded again. He took one of her hands, holding it between both of his. Closing his eyes he sighed.
“Perhaps you’ve been in Africa too long.”
He grunted. “Much too long.” His eyes snapped open. “May I kiss you?”
Wren’s mouth fell open. He licked his lips, never taking his eyes off hers, beseeching her. Wren smiled. “You may.” She closed her eyes and waited.
Bruce watched her heavily lashed lids flutter shut. He sensed a small amount of fear. He could smell it, but she wasn’t frightened of him. It wasn’t adrenaline he caught a whiff of in the night wind. It was pure lust. Unhinged, full frontal arousal from a woman of her quality. His cock poked and throbbed against his stiff breeches as his hands took possession of her face. She gasped. Her eye lids fluttered open and then shut again. Her lips parted. He moved closer, feeling her sweet breath on his wet lips, drying them with her heat. He kissed her. The sensation rocked him, spiraling down into his belly and into his legs, making every hair stand on end. His tongue probed her delicate mouth. She moaned softly, opening for him. She stuck her tiny tongue into his mouth, unleashing a growl. She yelped against him.
He pulled her to him, molding his mouth to hers, slanting their kiss, sucking on her tongue. She moaned deeper, bewitching him with seductive, slow kisses that heated him from within, sending shivers along his neck and spine. Bruce groaned when she moved closer to him, molding her body to his. He felt the pulsing beneath his breeches. Bruce steadied himself. It’d been forever since he’d seduced a woman. He’d half forgotten. Instinct told him to turn her around and enter her from behind. It took all his powers, from both gene pools to reign the beast that yearned to buck the beauty he held in his arms. He really intended to kiss her only once. He had no idea she’d feel this glorious, this soft, this needy. Bruce shook. He wanted to shift but didn’t know why. He certainly couldn’t bed her while in cat form.
She palmed his chest, fingering the tiny buttons of his shirt. She found his nipples and rubbed them with the heels of her hand. Bruce sucked in a heated breath. She pinched them. He pushed her hands aside and yanked the shirt open. She dragged her mouth away from his, trailing kisses across his jaw, down his neck, past the pulse throbbing in his throat.
She tongued his nipples. He watched her. Watched as her pink tongue flicked and licked at the swollen nubs. Goose bumps rose on his chest. His cock swelled when she bit him and suckled with a hunger he had forgotten existed. She moaned softly as if she were enjoying her delicacy. He clutched her silken hair and pulled her face to his, kissing her fiercely, his tongue diving, tasting. Their teeth clinked when he slanted his mouth to hers, wanting more closeness, more togetherness with a woman he’d only met one day before. Blinding lust rushed through his veins, blacking out all reason.
The wind picked up. The sails above them flapped in the breeze while salty waves slapped over the deck, spraying them, cooling their heated skin. Bruce swept her off her feet and pulled her onto his lap where he positioned himself over a large crate covered by a tattered sail. Her ass perched atop him. He unleashed a growl before burying his face in her cleavage. The jewel embedded between her breasts was hot against his lips as he nibbled and sucked around it. Wren arched her back, tossing her head into the wind, letting it blow her tresses behind her.
Bruce freed her breasts. Full, dark mounds filled his hands and mouth as he took one nipple in his mouth, sucking fiercely. Wren cried out, her passionate song mingled with the howling wind. A tall wave leapt over the side of the boat, soaking them both. Wren screamed in surprise and then laughed out loud. Bruce only growled at the sight of the half naked, wet lady in his arms.
He pushed her to the edge of his lap, unlaced his breeches and pulled her back to him. A mischievous grin curled around her delicate face, awash with passion and desperate need. Bruce’s heart went out to her. He lifted her skirts, grabbed her waist and lowered her onto him in one swift move. Wren gasped. Another wave of water tumbled over them as he sliced into her again and again. She molded herself to him, humming, licking her lips. Bruce loved the way his cock fit into her, so snug, so tight and so bold. She rode him while the ship rocked and swayed, a beautiful melody of wood creaking, waves splashing and Bruce grunting. She wrapped her legs around him tighter, gripping the mast that he leaned upon. With her arms over her head he had full access to her wet, heavy, swaying breasts as they slapped at his chest and face, only making him drive into her with more passion, more force than he thought was possible.
He felt the first tremors of release cinch around his swollen cock. Two more thrusts into her velvety smoothness and he’d lost himself, spilling into her his seed, his unleashed desire and his loyalty. Wren’s body rocked just as his began to still. She cried out into the night. He held her closer as the glorious spasms of quenched passion shot through her. Her necklace slapped his cheek as she rode him to the highest point of her release and then she collapsed onto him. Long, dark tendrils clung to her face and breasts. He peeled them off one by one as her breathing returned to normal. She sighed as he kissed her shoulder and pulled her to him. Even the ship found calmer waters as they clung to one another, two strangers no more.
Monday, June 22, 2009
I love to listen to music. I listen to it in my car, at work, and when I'm on the computer. Sometimes, I even listen to it on TV. What could be better?
I'm not a music snob. I will listen to anything if I'm in the mood for it. But, I do have my favorites, which are country and rock. If I want to have a good time, I listen to my fun playlist, which I will share with you now...
- Rockstar by Nickelback
- Gunpowder & Lead by Miranda Lambert
- All Summer Long by Kid Rock
- Dirty Little Secret by All-American Rejects
- Barbie Girl by Aqua
- Should've Said No by Taylor Swift
- Down on the Farm by Tim McGraw
- Fergilicious by Fergie
- Celebrity by Brad Paisley
- Before He Cheats by Carrie Underwood
- Last Name by Carrie Underwood
- Devil Went Down to Georgia by Charlie Daniels Band
- Redneck Woman by Gretchen Wilson
- Cowboy by Kid Rock
- I Wanna Talk About Me by Toby Keith
- Our Song by Taylor Swift
- Who Says You Can't Go Home by Bon Jovi
- Picture to Burn by Taylor Swift
- Cheater, Cheater by Joey and Rory
- All I Want to Do by Sugarland
- Talk Dirty to Me by Poison
- Skater Boy by Avril Lavigne
- Good Time by Alan Jackson
- Mony Mony by Billy Idol
- When the Sun Goes Down by Kenny Chesney & Uncle Kracker
- Walk Like an Egyptian by the Bangles
- Drift Away by Uncle Kracker
- Party Starter by Will Smith
- What do you Think About That by Montgomery Gentry
- It's Five O'clock Somewhere by Alan Jackson
- Summertime by Kenny Chesney
- How Forever Feels by Kenny Chesney
- Me and My Gang by Rascal Flats
- She Thinks My Tractor's Sexy by Kenny Chesney
- Indian Outlaw by Tim McGraw
- Follow Me by Uncle Kracker
- Young by Kenny Chesney
- Hell Yeah by Montgomery Gentry
- Big Star by Kenny Chesney
- Smack That by Akon
- Whiskey Girl by Toby Keith
- Mr. Niceguy by Will Smith
- Ebay by Weird Al Yankovic
- Gone by Montgomery Gentry
- Mayberry by Rascal Flats
- White and Nerdy by Weird Al Yankovic
- So What by Pink
There are many, many more that I love and have to add to my list, but for now, this is my current "fun" playlist. To me, it's a good mix of songs that either make me feel good or at least give me a laugh.
What do you have on your playlist? I'd love to hear them, and I gladly take suggestions to add to mine ;)
Friday, June 19, 2009
My husband an I attended our daughter’s awards ceremony last Tuesday. We watched her accept her awards for Most Inspirational Award in Music (she’s a violinist) and President’s award for Excellence in Academics. She’s in middle school and will be attending high school next year (Lordy, am not sure if I’m ready for that). Watching my daughter glow in front of the seventh and eight graders, faculty, and guests made me think about the hard work we put in all year long. Just like everybody else, we had tough mornings, late nights working on her homework, hours spent on the road for practice, etc. But all of our sacrifices resulted to her getting an award.
My daughter proudly showed us her certificates. Holding the tangible evidence of her hard work was amazing.
I made sacrifices here and there with my writing, too. My latest rewards are contracts with Red Rose Publishing and eXtasy Books. Also, (yup, I worked hard on this one as well) My Pleasure, a short story from eXtasy Books is another award I got. Mobipocket rated this book “Adults Only” ;).
Like my daughter, I would like to share the evidence of my hard work by giving away a copy of My Pleasure in PDF format. How? Let me know what gives you pleasure in life or just simply leave any comments on this blog.
My Pleasure, available in PDF and Kindle format.
Read an excerpt
Thursday, June 18, 2009
If my story is rejected, then fine, I move on. But the wait, once the publisher gives the release date KILLS ME!!!!
I can’t wait for the 15th of July for “Mama’s Heart” to be released and the 1st of September for “The Pauper’s Prize”!
Anyway, While I'm waiting I am writing! Oh, and I also did this mock up cover. (It's not the official one. My publisher will give me that. But it was fun to do)
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
What do you think of when you hear the word summer? Whenever summer approaches I think of that Summertime song from Will Smith. I also think of lounging by the pool or being on a beach somewhere like my fellow blogger, Gracen, got to do recently (and I’m jealous, by the way!). Hot muscular men in swim trunks, fruity drinks, and sand. Sounds like heaven to me! The reality of any of that? It’s not for me or most people if you have kids. And being a writer on top of it all? It seems almost impossible.
My kids got out of school May 27th. My son had this pent up energy of some sort that made him go crazy the first day of his summer break. I was ready for him to go back May 28th. If you’re a parent, you probably understand. I no longer have those quiet days to write. Instead of characters in my head telling me what to write on the screen, I get to hear “Mom I’m bored,”. Or maybe “There’s nothing to eat,” when the fridge and cupboards are full. And if you have more than one child? I don’t even want to start. Just know the computer they share is shut off for awhile because I’m tired of hearing about who was not being fair today!
Summer. Used to be the magical time of the year. Everyone was happy. The days were carefree. Not anymore. What happened to the luxury of eating popsicles in the backyard all day like when I was a kid? Now we have to fill the days with activities to stay sane. So where does that leave our writing time? Lost in limbo.
Here’s some tips I thought of for us to grab a chunk (even a small one) to keep going during this zany time of year.
~Find a trusted friend to exchange play days with. You take her kids for a day, she takes yours another day. It’ll give you a few hours of good writing time.
~Kids need something to do? Look into your local parks and rec program. I know most had budget cuts (ours did) but see what they have to offer anyway. Ours offers free swimming and some great classes at low cost. Ours also has an adult lounge to hang out in. It’s always quiet in there!
~Are you spending more hours at kid events than at home? How about writing while you are there.
~Set a certain time that’s writing time each day. Set limits. Trust me- they’ll learn to respect them. Mine have.
~Get up before the rest of the family. My schedule has changed but I still get up at my old time so I have that hour just for me. It’s awesome and well worth it.
~If all of these fail? Put on some headphones, some good music, and tune ‘em out!
So let me know how you manage!
Talk to you soon,
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Happy Tuesday to all my wicked bloggers! Here's the first couple of pages of my novella, Voodoo Moon, soon to be released from New Concepts Publishing in The Brood series.
Send me your thoughts.
1825 - Montego Bay, Jamaica - Rose Hall Plantation
Talin held his secret bride as she wept. Warm, wet tears moistened his chest as she wailed into him, begging him not to go.
“Shh, my love. I must. She willa kill me if I don’,”
Daisy shook her head fiercely, sobbing, crying out against what she could not stop. “She willa kill ya if ya go!”
“Der is no otter way round it! I will cahnvince her to let me live.”
Daisy shrieked at his meaning. “By bein’ a lover she cannah part wit?”
Talin picked her up and carried her to the bed like a sick child. He sat down and rocked her, speaking softly into her ear. Her sobs subsided. Her shaking slowed. She sniffed and took a shuddering breath before speaking. “I willa lose ya.”
“I’ll find a way outta dis.”
“How?” she whispered, touching his face where the candle light made a flickering shadow. “We are slaves! Nahtin mo. Tis only a month since she kilt her lahst lover and now she’s ahskin for ya.”
“I wohn’t allow her to kill me, Daisy,” he said sweeping two kisses onto her forehead. “I’ll keep her ’appy and come home to ya at first light.”
Daisy groaned, squeezing her eyes shut. “But for how long? What if she finds out ’bout our secret weddin‘? She’ll ’ave us both kilt!”
“Ya ’ave to trust me! Trust the magick!”
“No! You vowed to stay away from black magick! You promised nah mo voodoo!”
“Tat was befo I knew I’d be forced to lay with the White Witch. It’s the only way ta fight her. If I keep her happy, I stay alive. But you ’ave to trust me and ya ’ave to help me.”
“How?” Daisy asked, wiping her nose on her sleeve, looking past the chiseled chin that formed a shadow on her face.
“The voodoo will be mo powerful if ya perform the spells whi we’re lovin’ one anuther.”
“Ya and the White Witch? Ahhhhhhh! I can’t, Talin! To think of ya with her…”
“Stop it, Daisy! Do ya want to help or not? I canna fight her without ya. Tink of us. Tink of our love! We canna beat her without the utter.”
A tear slid down her smooth cheek. She nodded slowly, kissed his chest and forced a smile. “Teach me.”
“On the morrow. Nah I have the parchment paper with our names written in chicken’s blood. I’ll ’ide it and the peacock fedder unduh our pillow.”
“But the spell willa bind ya to her forevuh! Ya willa forget our love!”
“No! I’m stronger than the magick!”
“How do ya nawh?” she wailed as tears streamed down her face.
“I nawh. Ya nawh, my sweet.”
His large, brown hand moved over her leg, warming her. He stopped at her thigh and bent to kiss her, long and slow. He tasted her tears. Lips so soft, so full, so eager. She sighed into him, wrapping her slender arms around his neck. He groaned, sliding his hand over her smooth skin, finding her wetness, cupping her. She moaned as he touched her. His other hand cupped her ass, kneading it. She gasped when he held her breasts. Rough palms formed around perfect round softness. The image of seeing her for the first time, in shackles, scared and trembling, a new slave for the big house-flashed through his mind. He’d loved her the second he’d seen her, scared and alone. They’d grown up on the plantation and fallen deeply in love with one another. Now here they were, making love on the eve on his laying with the White Witch.
Talin rolled her onto the bed and pushed up her gown, exposing all of her. The sight of her in the candle glow brought tears to his eyes. This would be their final night together. He stood, stripped down to nothing and lay beside her, taking her face in his hands, kissing her lips, tasting her tears, breathing her in, memorizing the moment. He would need it later in order to survive nights upon nights with his master.
She arched her neck, letting him mark her one final time. With dark, urgent passion, he sucked her long, brown neck as she panted, loving it. Her nails dug into his back when he entered her. Their eyes locked, his fierce, holding on; hers wet, pleading, loving. Tears trickled down her face as he moved inside of her. She watched him watching her as she fought to keep her eyes open. Open for him. Neither of them wanted to lose one second of connection with the other. She thrashed beneath him, reaching, locking her arms over his shoulders, aching, longing for their night to never end. Another big thrust and he held himself within her, his breathing ragged, gazing down at the love of his life.
“Oh, Talin, my love,“ she whispered, smiling through her tears.
He bent to kiss them all away. “Don’t cry, my sweet.“ Then took her breast in his mouth, licking, sucking, teasing her nipple with his tongue, still watching the passion as it crossed her face. She cried out. Her hands held his smooth, bald head now glistening with sweat. With one bulging arm, he rolled her onto her back.
“Mmmm…” she hummed, moving on top of him.
They were fluid. One. Sweaty, smiling, loving one another and the closeness they’d both shared for years. Years spent in chains during the day. She worked as a house maid while he worked the cane fields. Though many house slaves of the day walked about freely, the White Witch would not allow it. All of her property were in chains until nightfall when they were allowed to go to their shanty homes behind the cane fields. One room shacks made from straw and palm leaves. It was here that Talin and Daisy felt free. Free like the warm Carribean that roared behind them, rolling in and out. Tonight the winds blew harder as the ocean rushed onto the white sands. The straw door beat against it’s frame. The candle flickered, dancing shadows onto locked hands, loving one another long into the Jamaican night.
“My wife…I love ya.”
Daisy cried out, arching her back, leaning into the pleasure shooting into her, blazing like warm streaks of brightest sunshine, smooth yet bright. Caressing her, soothing her pain. Horror lay ahead for them both. Dark, black magick. Ancient Haitian voodoo. Evil stirred around them. Talin growled, on edge, pulling her to him, devouring her lips with his, biting, kissing, drawing her tongue into his mouth, grabbing her hair into his fist. “Daisy!”
The door slammed open and shut, open and shut. Salty air blew into the room, blowing out the candle. A thin, gray line of smoke curled over their heads. Talin sat up, kissing her, palming both breasts with his hands, thumbing her nipples. She bit his lip. Drew blood. Tasting it with his kiss as they danced together. He inside of her, twirling, swirling, staring into each other’s souls; beyond the eyes, beyond the heartbeat, beyond their spiritual connection, reaching for what would hold them steady, bind them together, unbroken and pure.
The darkness of both their lives soared before them. Flat out and full speed ahead as a tropical storm blew onto the island, foreshadowing wicked things to come. Blackest dread filled their hearts as they cried out, shouting against the wind, filling each other with a love like no other. A love borne of survival, among their people, among the warm Jamaican winds that soothed their dark skin and sad hearts in a time that needed hope and something worth living for.
Monday, June 15, 2009
When opposites attract, they are screwed three ways from Sunday.
Frannie learned the hard way that a McHottie doesn’t always equal marriage material. Besides, she’s happy with her vanilla life. She has friends, a career and a double-D-powered vibrator. Then Fate shoves her, literally, into Prince Charming’s lap. His declaration of love at first sight is cute—and spikes her bullcrap meter into the red zone.
She’s more than willing to give in with her body. But she’s barricaded her heart behind castle walls—and permanently welded the gates shut.
Tragedy taught Jinx that time is too precious to waste, so when a series of uncanny coincidences thrusts Frannie into his life, he holds on tight. He knows she thinks he’s several fries short of a Happy Meal, but he’s determined to breach the fortress around her heart and give her a Happily Ever After.
Even if he has to carry her fanny-first into his kingdom.
WARNING: Includes jelly shoes, a narcoleptic cat, and meatloaf. The steamy sex scenes may lead to fogged windows and wet panties, so proceed at your own risk. Do not attempt to read without the following items: tissues, napkins for spewed beverages, and a booty call on speed dial.
Want more? Read her excerpt...
“I’m not so sure about Christmas with your family.” Grabbing the damp towel from him, she avoided his eyes but felt him shift on the bed, become more alert and defensive.
“What do you mean?”
“It’s just I feel weird intruding. Besides, with Tracey’s mom overseas and Steve’s sister so close to having her baby, we thought about doing brunch here, just the three of us.” Guiltily, she headed toward the bathroom, distancing herself from him. She barely had time to plug in the hair dryer before he was standing inside the doorway.
“You said you’d come. Everyone’s looking forward to meeting you.”
“Jinx, Christmas is for families. You should go and be with yours. I don’t want to impose.” I don’t want to meet your family. I don’t want to see what I can’t have and pretend it’s all okay.
“Frannie, I want you there. You promised.”
“That’s not fair, I accepted in a weak moment. You shouldn’t ask questions like that right after mind-blowing sex, it scrambles the brain. Really, just go and have fun. I’ll see you the day after or so.”
His eyebrows popped up and he stared at her. “You thought it was mind-blowing? Brain-scrambling?”
His self-satisfied purely masculine grin perturbed her. Good lawd, like he needed the ego boost. “It worked. It had been a while. Let’s just say it was better than battery-operated and leave it alone, okay?”
“Better than batteries?”
“Yes, okay. Better than batteries but not quite as good as a half-price shoe sale, alright?”
“Ouch, Frannie, aim a little lower next time, you almost missed my balls completely with that one.”
“Trust me, Fruit-loop, if I wanted to bust your balls, I would have.”
That wiped the smug look from his face and his brows scrunched. “Okay, forget my balls. Back to Christmas. You’re coming to my place and meeting my family.”
Frannie snorted. “Uhm, let go of that bossy vine Tarzan, this Jane don’t swing that way. I said I’m not going.”
The sudden roar of the hair dryer meant an end to the discussion. He was supposed to accept her decision and go back to the bedroom. He was not supposed to get irritated, cross his arms and cock that damned left eyebrow at her. The screeching drone of the ancient appliance had been known to drown out smoke alarms, children crying and the occasional drunken neighbor. She should have known it wouldn’t work on Jinx.
“Mtttkichouuuuu.” In the mirror, she watched his mouth move but only heard a garbled string of nonsense. Perfect.
“I can’t hear you.” Blatantly ignoring him, she flipped her head over and switched the hair dryer on high. “You’re going to have to wait until I’m done.” And then I’m going to jump your bones and make you forget about my ducking out on your family.
Pleased with her game plan, she shuffled the hot air over her scalp. The fine wisps danced like Bambi on ice, flying this way and that. From this vantage point, she could see the faded denim of his crotch and legs. He leaned with one hip on the doorframe, unmoving. Inspired, she turned her back to the door, bent at the waist. He should have a clear view of her bare ass this way. That should get his mind on other things.
The hair dryer died. Still bent over, Frannie shook it then flipped the switches. Nothing. Swiping her hair back, she stood and froze at the reflection in the mirror. Jinx had not moved. Except now he held the hair dryer plug in his hands, twirling it absently.
“You said you would come, I told my parents they would meet you and you’re coming. End of discussion.”
Irritation swelled and she spun around to face him. Hair dryer pointed like a gun, she poked him in the chest. “What in the hell are you doing? That was rude!”
“Rude is backing out on a promise. You’re going and that’s it.”
“I don’t want to go, okay? I don’t want to meet your family and get all cozy, like Little House on the freaking Prairie.”
“I carried you once and I’ll do it again.”
Stubborn crashed in to obstinate and they glared at each other. Her eyebrows tightened and his scrunched. Her lips pursed and his flattened. Her shoulders squared and his straightened. Light brown eyes bored into black ones and black ones bored back. He was not giving up. Thrusting the small machine into his chest, she complained.
“And you’re headstrong.”
“You’re being a pain in the ass.”
A devilish grin erupted on his face. He looked down at the still warm nozzle pressed against his chest and then back at her.
“So what are you going to do, blow me?”
“You wish.” She jabbed the hair dryer into his chest once more. “Fine, I’ll go. But do not expect me to be pleasant.”
“Never. I expect you to be yourself.”
**PLEASE NOTE: The above excerpt is an unedited version**
Gotta have more? Be sure to buy Jinxed!
You can visit Inez at her website.
Trust me! You don't want to miss out!
Sunday, June 14, 2009
Tired of the same old, same old? Want to have a bit of fun without the expense of travel or having to pack? Want to go somewhere exotic without having to wait in those endless lines at the airport with all your possessions in gray bins as you are herded like cattle through the security checkpoint? Yeah, me too.
Try going on a star-crossed journey to the outer reaches of space.
What is it about sci-fi that I love so much? I admit that I'm a total geek when it comes to Star Trek, Star Wars or anything that makes intersteller travel possible. Though, I'll say right now, when I write it myself I don't want to have to worry about FTL drives, or the plausibility of if my spacecrafts can go the distance and speed to get x-number of light years from their point of origin. They just can. A reader, by virtue of picking of a science inspired title, is telling you they already suspended disbelief. I'd rather concentrate on the political, social and inter-personal ramifications of my story than explaining how my characters got from point A to point B.
There is just something about sci-fi that is fun to me. The possibilities. The trips to other worlds. The space hunks!!
Some of my most favorite sci-fi's are the ones that cross genres and add a romance into the mix. Jayne Ann Krentz's Harmony series is so much fun, I stalk BN.com to see if she has a new one coming out anytime soon. There is also C.J. Barry's sci-fi romance series, and Catherine Spangler. For futuristics, I loved the 2176 series that kicked off with Susan Grant's book The Legend of Banzai McGuire.
Some of my most favorite stories I've crafted were my sci-fi/futuristics under my pen name Kathleen Scott. For some reason those always seem to write themselves. I sit back and pretty much type what the characters tell me. I'm working on one now, as part of my many, many wips, that is kind of an almagamation of sci-fi/futuristic/fantasy with an erotic bent. Since it's the first novel length I've done under that particular name, there has been a bit more going into the world building and more thought than just the off-the-cuff writing I've done with the novella length titles. But at least it's satisfying my need to write that genre. I start jonesing if I'm away from it for too long.
So, what is your one genre you love to write or read? Your most guilty literary pleasure?
Saturday, June 13, 2009
The surf has been calm, no sea creatures stinging us, no high waves trying to drown us. It’s been peaceful and idyllic with picture perfect weather. In the evenings, we open the door to the balcony and listen to the surf. I never get tired of that sound. It could lull me to sleep.
The ocean from my condo…
A picture of our condo from the ocean…
The pool from our condo....
A sandcastle built by Zach (a college student my boys befriended)...
Friday, June 12, 2009
Here’s one of the many reasons why I am still writing:
…I just believe in you. I read your story and felt it then. You can be big if you want to.” Leila Brown.
How cool is that? Leila’s words were stuck in my head all day yesterday. Simple, short, but strong enough to give me energy to get up this morning and work on my new story that I’ve been working on for months.
Really, sometimes a little push, encouragement is all we need to keep on moving. And it helps if you believe in yourself, too.
Family, work, home, personal dreams all vie for my time. Of course, for me, family stays in the number one spot and personal achievement like finishing another story at the bottom. But the fact is, my goal is still on the list. And it’ll stay there. So when another Leila comes my way, I can look at that list and say, “Yeah, there it is. I can do it.”
If you feel that you’re writing is going nowhere, think about what you’ve accomplished so far. Even if you just wrote a page or two, for me that in itself is an accomplishment. Trying is an achievement. Some people dream of becoming a writer. But dreaming will not take you anywhere unless you start penning your story. At least that’s my opinion if you want to be in the writing industry.
To find out more about Leila Brown, please visit her site at http://www.leilabrown.com/
Happy reading and writing!
Thursday, June 11, 2009
I have a short story accepted for publication by eXtasy books. It's for their Fantasy Garden series and is titled "Mama's Heart."
I am so thrilled about it because it's the first time I haven't written a speculative story. Yep. No werewolves or aliens in this one. I have stuck to a good 'ol story about a young man discovering love...with other men, of course :-) And Mama... well, Mama has to be read about because she's such a great character (both to write about and to read about). I had such a ball writing this story.
It's coming up for a 15th of July release. Sorry, I don't have a cover pic yet. But you can be rest assured, The Wicked Thorn and Roses blog will be the only place you can win copies of it!
Until next Thursday!
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
When I was a teenager, I loved to read. I hung my clothes (or threw them on the floor in my closest, but shh!) so I could organize my books in my dresser drawers. My books were my treasures. One of my favorite authors was V.C Andrews. I started reading her books when I was just 12 or so. She wrote fascinating scenes set in Louisiana. I wanted to visit the bayous she wrote about. I still haven’t been there but I will some day… all because I read about it so many times in her book.
It got me thinking about the places I write about. I prefer to use fictional towns. I get to use my imagination for the most part with sprinkles of facts here and there. What I want (or my characters!) goes where I say in my town. I get to choose most aspects about my town I make up from the small things like what type of businesses they have to the type of people there.
Here’s a sneak peak of Alban, Oregon from Jesse’s Brother:
“The pedestrians of Alban fanned themselves while darting into the comfort of air conditioning in the stores they visited. Children walked down the sidewalk holding adult hands on one side with dripping ice cream cones in the other. Melted ice cream left stains all over their faces and shirts. This is heaven, thought Samantha as she and Noah drove down Main Street. Alban is the perfect place to live.”
~Jesse’s Brother, Sept. 21st, 2009
But what’s good about setting the novels in real places? A lot. I love traveling and it gives me a good reason to visit new places. All in the name of research, right? By writing about real places I have lived or visited (or want to!), I get to revisit those places each time I read my novel. I lived in Portland, Oregon and missed it greatly while writing Jesse’s Brother. Guess where Samantha got to visit for the first time? You guessed it correctly if you said Portland. I got to revisit my favorite places as I wrote about her trip there.
So I ask you: has a writer ever inspired you to visit a place? Do you prefer real reading about real places or fictional towns?
Monday, June 8, 2009
Also, congratulations to our finalists! You deserve an award as well! So, we've created one for you, too!
Thank you to everyone who participated! There were so many wonderful covers to choose from! I'm glad it wasn't up to me to make the decision. I never could have done it.
Today I want to take some time and congratulate our own Kate Davison aka Kathleen Scott for her newest release “Hotter Than Hell” from The Wild Rose Press! Kathleen has been a great friend and wonderful mentor to me, so I wanted to let you all know just how fabulous she is! Take a look at her new release…
Fallen angels never have it easy. So it is with Damon Serif, who’s just landed the most difficult assignment possible—protecting his sexy neighbor, Ivy Hawthorne, from a hoard of water demons bent on making her their queen. Though keeping the smoking-hot costume designer out of evil’s clutches is something he’s trained centuries for, Damon knows the real challenge is having her close without tasting her charms and indulging in her rather unique perspectives.
Ivy’s luck is finally changing. After years of designing costumes for off-Broadway plays, she’s finally got a shot at the brass ring. But now, her sizzling neighbor is following her around the city, insisting she’s the target of a demonic conspiracy. What’s more, his mere touch causes her body to climax with an intensity of which she’d only dreamed.
When Damon and Ivy connect, even the demons feel the heat, because together they are...Hotter Than Hell.
Damon gave her a lazy smile then sat down beside her. “I got the message.”
What message was that? How badly she wanted to undress him and then slather him in cream cheese and eat him like her morning bagel?
“Yes. Well, sorry. I’m not normally so rude.” Or so orgasmic. Should she apologize for that, too? No, better to write that off as an anomaly.
Damon flashed perfect white teeth at her. “It’s all right. I took you off guard.”
Not nearly as much as with the full court nipple-press he’d put on her.
She took another sip of the wine. This one more of a gulp. At the rate she drank, she’d need him to walk her back to her door.
Time to bring the conversation back around to its original point. “What answers do you need from me?”
He set his wineglass on the end table, then turned to fully face her. He rested his arm on the back of the sofa, brushing the ends of her hair with his fingers. “Do you normally hang out in bars infected with darkness?”
There he went into that demon thing again. “By that I’m assuming you mean the marids and not the fact Daggers caters to the whole low lighting motif.”
“You know what I mean.” The back of his hand stroked her cheek. Intense desire curled around her heart.
“Yes. And I’m not so sure they were after me. Looked more like they were chasing you.”
He gave her a smile one would use to indulge an idiot child. “Normally humans can’t see them. That’s what makes them such a danger to you.”
“So why did we see them tonight?”
“I don’t know the answer to that yet, but I intend to find out. Until I do, promise me you’ll not venture in there.”
“I go to Daggers all the time and never have a problem. It’s where my contacts hang out and I network.”
“Even your contacts are dangerous. Believe me when I say your friend tonight had less than your best interests at heart.”
“And who are you, my guardian angel?”
Buy "Hotter Than Hell" by Kathleen Scott
For more information about Kathleen, visit her website!
Sunday, June 7, 2009
Congratulations to R.F. Long for winning Saturday's poll for her cover "The Scroll Thief".
Our readers have chosen and today is the big finale! The time has come to choose the winner! Good luck to all our finalists!
Friday, June 5, 2009
Last day of covers before our finalist make their bid for the top position! We're so excited to find out who will win the best cover!
Pick your favorite cover in todays group, and vote in the above poll. Good luck authors!
Woohoo! We've got 10 more great covers for your voting pleasure. :D Pick your fav and vote in the poll above. Good luck, authors!!
Thursday, June 4, 2009
Congratulations to Julia Knight! Your cover for Ilfayne's Bane won Wednesday's poll. You get to go on to Sunday's final contest!
Another 10 covers! Lot's of great artwork out there. Pick your favorite cover in the poll above. Good luck authors!!
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
I apologize to Katie Reus. Photobucket decided your cover for Dangerous Deception violated copyright law. So, I wasn't able to add it to the slideshow. I've added it just above the others for our readers to see. Again, I apologize for that.
Round three, here we go! Pick your favorite cover, and vote in the poll above! Good luck authors! Remember that Katie's cover is also included in the contest.
Monday, June 1, 2009
Congratulations to Lisa Alexander Griffin! You're cover for A Celtic Lover's Magic has won Monday's poll! You're cover will go on to our final contest on Sunday.
Ready for a new set of 10 covers? Here they are! Same as yesterday, pick your favorite, and vote in the poll above.
Good luck authors!
Our Favorite Places
- ► 2012 (10)
- ► 2011 (109)
- ► 2010 (212)
- EMERGENCY: READ IF YOU LIVE IN NY CITY
- Hearts 'A Flutter, Minds 'A Clutter
- Thank you for taking the time to interview with us...
- Mama's Heart Excerpt
- Erotic Teaser from Uncaged!
- What's on your playlist?
- My Pleasure can be yours. :)
- The Wait
- Summer time!
- Teaser from Voodoo Moon
- Have you been Jinxed?
- Space...the Final Frontier and other destinations
- Vacation is Sublime...
- What fuels your energy?
- Some News--Finally!
- Real or Fake? What's your take?
- The fabulous Kathleen Scott!
- Cover Contest Finals!
- Cover Contest Day 6
- Cover Contest Day 5
- Cover Contest Day 4
- Cover Contest Day 3
- Cover Contest Day 2!
- ▼ June (24)