Monday, August 31, 2009

So much going on!

Hello everyone! I've got lots of fun stuff going on lately to share with you all! I'm so excited.

First, I wanted to let everyone know that my book is out! Yay! You can check it out at The Wild Rose Press. I'm thrilled to say that as of last night, it was ranked at #4 for bestsellers in paranormal romance. Here's hoping it reaches the top 10 of all bestsellers!

Last week, I got the pleasure of having a mini tarot reading done for me. I thought I'd share it with you all today. Here's the reading...

The question was...How can I make my life better?

The 7 of Swords (reversed)
The 10 of Swords
The 5 of Cups

This reading is Situation-Challenge-Opportunity with one card representing each

The 7 of Swords is usually a card that means someone is being sneaky with you - or not telling you the whole truth. As the card is reversed, this means there is some type of challenge surrounding this issue. For some reason the thought of your not telling yourself the whole truth about something surfaces - are you in some way not looking at something with full perspective? It can be so easy to have trouble seeing the forest from the trees in our own lives.

The Challenge card, the 10 of Swords is quite interesting because the 10 of Swords means that a Karmic cycle is complete in your life. So if you have been longing to improve things or make changes in your life - have faith that THIS is the ideal time to put these changes into action. You have just completed a cycle and are entering a time of new beginnings. Try looking at your world and opportunities with fresh eyes.

Your Opportunities Card is the 5 of Cups. I don't know if you've seen this card the Ryder Waite deck it is depicted by a man/woman with their shoulder slumped and several spilled cups in front of them. The traditional meaning of this card is "emotional loss" and "grieving" or "letting go." Remember that this is an opportunity for you - time to let go of what isn't working, things, relationships or events that do not serve you so you can step forward into your new life with faith and excitement. Universal Law states that we must release the old to welcome in the new. That's what you are doing now - releasing the old and welcoming in the new. Say, "Hello new life!"

Sounds pretty good to me. I can say it was pretty right on. If you'd like to have your very own tarot reading, you can check out Aimee St. Claire. She does a reading every Tuesday on her blog.

Sunday, August 30, 2009

Keeping on Track

As the days of summer wind down to the golden leaves of autum, I find myself contemplating what I've accomplished this year, and what more I have to do.

What I've accomplished: jack shit.

What I have yet to do: too much to even think about without puking.

I need a better system for keeping myself on track and task. I'll be the first to admit there are just some days where I don't feel like writing or even opening a file. Like today. I've been up for all of an hour (I worked last night) and already I've managed to procrastinate for all 60 minutes. Not a new record for me by any stretch of the imagination, but time I won't get back nontheless.

Over the last few weeks, I've been taking my laptop into the living room and sitting on the sofa to write. I do have tv distraction, but there isn't internet connections to keep me occupied instead of writing. Problem with that is, I can't skip out of a program to do a little on-the-spot researching should the need arise. (like happened the other night when I needed some quick answers on the Greek Gods and Goddess.) So, that's a pain, but I have gotten some words down. In four days I wrote almost 20K. Not bad, even if it was spread over five books. But now I have to get really serious about the three that have loomingly close deadlines. (insert suspenseful music)

Today, I think I might sit in here and work. I have research to do as well as wanting to add some things to my files that I can't seem to find of my laptop (anyone know why in word 2007 the headers don't show up on the damn page regardless of typing them in five hundred times. very frustrating!)

And's back to the grindstone.


Friday, August 28, 2009

A good reason to celebrate.

Vacation is always fun, but being home is better. I can sleep in my own bed, use my own pillows… :) My girls didn’t want to leave Surrey, but as soon as we started driving, they could hardly wait to get home. Now, we are back. And here I am excited to announce my new book, Wicked Proposal. 


Last summer, I finished and polished this story while my husband drove us from Paris to Germany. While in Germany, I submitted this story to eXtasy Books. It wasn’t until we reached London that I learned eXtasy accepted my Wicked Proposal. Now, here it is. The product of my hard labor.


With each country that we visited, I came up with a different idea for a story. Perhaps one of these days, I’ll be able to find the time to form one, if not all, into a book.


Wicked Proposal is available September 1st, 2009. To read the blurb, you can go to


Sign up to receive my newsletter and for a chance to win a copy of Wicked Proposal. Go to my website at




Tierney O’Malley

Thursday, August 27, 2009

More on my Latest Release

Here's the excerpt I promised last week...So yep, read enjoy and then head on over here to grab your copy *cheeky self promotion grin*

"Before you tell me to leave, there's something you should know, Pavel," Wilhelm said as his lips quivered. He felt his stomach churn as he took in the sight of the creature who stood next to the young man.

The chimera was as magnificent as he'd heard. Even through the rain, the beast's features were unmistakable. It had the body and head of a noble lion, a dragon's tail full of shimmering green scales and the horns of a mighty ram. He could plainly see why his father had talked about hunting the creature many times.

"Tell me quick," Pavel said, his hands firmly planted on his hips. "I have little patience, and my friend's claws can shred you to pieces in seconds."

Wilhelm licked his lips, before he added, "Can we go inside? It's rather wet out here."

"Why have you been following me? You have given me my reward for what I have offered. Isn't that enough? Why bother me again so soon?"

Clearly Pavel and the chimera would need more than an excuse to convince them. Finally, he plucked up the courage to summon the words he needed to speak to be believed. "I ran away from home so I could…so I could be with you, Pavel."

"Come inside," the chimera rumbled in a guttural tone. "Getting wet won't do any of us good. And my fur takes hours to dry."

Wilhelm noticed Pavel shoot a glance at the beast. Did he need more convincing? Surely not. His kiss back in the storeroom was not only filled with passion, it was consumed by wanting, too. Perhaps Pavel was protecting the chimera. He had an idea.

Inside the cave the air was warm and inviting. Not like Wilhelm had expected a cave to be. Sure, it was dark and dusty and only lit by a couple of torches, but not to the extent it would be uncomfortable.

"Now what's all this about?" Pavel asked defiantly.

Before he could add any more venom to his words, Wilhelm grabbed him by his shoulders and pulled him close. As Pavel's mouth fell open, probably from surprise more than anything, he leaned forward and kissed him.

Wilhelm's mind spun as his lips came in contact with Pavel's. The taste of the young man was hard to pinpoint, but delicious. He tasted like bread and saliva and something unexplainable. It was wonderful. The water that dripped off his hair added to the experience. The kiss was wet and warm and exhilarating, just as he had remembered even though it went horribly wrong back in the storeroom.

This time, Wilhelm was determined he wouldn't make the same mistake again. He wanted this kiss to be perfect. He knew Pavel would be worth the risks he had taken. That stolen kiss and the promise of more meant everything to him right now.

Pavel groaned, and as Wilhelm sent in his tongue to explore all the sensations on offer, he felt arms wrap around him, squeezing him tight. He obviously liked being kissed.

He heard a chuckle coming from the chimera. "Excellent. My friend, you have found another that needs you. See? Surprises and unexpected love can happen, Pavel."

Pavel broke away and uttered, "I-I…I didn't expect that again so soon. I've…I've never been kissed so many times before. Not by anyone, especially not by the likes of you. Why are you doing this?" Pavel's arousal was clear, the tattered trousers he wore didn't hide much.

"I told you, I wanted you. I always have. Surely, you must have noticed how I have looked at you? I've even followed you through the village on many occasions before I offered you those groceries. Don't you remember?"

The young man offered a shaky smile. "Yes…but I…I feel like our relationship should be more than…" Pavel looked up directly into his eyes. "My, Lord, you can have me. I'm yours to do with however you like."

That took Wilhelm aback. "Are you offering yourself because I ask of it or because you think you may gain reward from such an act? Sure, I can provide for you, much more than you can even imagine. But I don't want you because you think I'll pay you for your body. I did what I did because of love. Nothing more."

"But I need to eat, don't you get it?"

The chimera politely coughed. "Now, now, Pavel. Let the Viscount's son show you the true intentions of his heart. When he is done, you will not need to question him. You will know."

"If he wants me, he'll have to offer something in return. I have greater needs to worry about. I have Odo to provide for as well, you know?"

"I can provide for myself. No need to worry about that, my dear friend," Odoacro said with a purr-like rumble. "And your cunning will see that you'll survive, of that I am certain. You know, come to think of it, I'd enjoy warming you both. I can make sure you don't catch a death of cold. Now enjoy your newfound friendship and worry about other things later, you hear me?"

Wilhelm noticed that Pavel's stare stayed fixed on him, even as the chimera spoke. The time was ripe to tell him what he really wanted. He suffered from a different kind of hunger, one that haunted his dreams and stabbed his every waking thought since he could remember. A hunger and a need that could only be satisfied by being with another man. Sure, he could have Catherine within a heartbeat, or any other for that matter. But a woman couldn't give him what Pavel could. His desires had been with him since he felt the first signs of manhood change his body and was something he couldn't ignore. "I don't want you, Pavel," Wilhelm uttered. "I want you to have me."

Pavel's glare became filled with surprise. His eyes widened. "What did you say?"

"You heard me." Wilhelm came close again.

Monday, August 24, 2009

Summer is gone....a teaser for the back to school blues!

Happy Tuesday to all you wicked bloggers! I'm super busy this week with school starting for my little ones and working on my current project. I've posted another teaser to Voodoo Moon. I can't get blogger to publish this without screwing up the format so I apologize if there are any strange spacings. Have a fun week!

Nuzzles and hugs,

Excerpt from Voodoo Moon

The wolf licked his chops under the cover of a wide palm tree. He panted against
the humidity while watching a storm cloud race across the full moon and then another,
blowing over the object that kept him a beast.
The moon glow was blocked for a few seconds until the next cloud rolled over it,
casting eerie shadows, black moving spots on his glistening fur. It had rained all
afternoon, the winds growing stronger minute by minute. A storm was raging. A big
He bolted to the edge of the rain forest, slowing his gait where the lawn began.
Trotting to a fountain, he gazed at the great house, watched the flickering yellow lights from the downstairs window and when he was sure no one was watching, took a long drink while rain slicked down his fur, in thick, tight gray bands. When he was satisfied, he moved closer, darting between trees, noting the size of many he’d helped to plant as saplings, enormous now. He’d been gone forever.
Something sinister crept along his spine. He shook his fur, from his head to his
tail. Now all spiky wet, the heated rain clung to him, much like the darkness reaching with grasping fingers, reaching for the deep ache that filled his soul since her death.
Dread filled his heart.
He stopped in his tracks, looked behind him, and sniffed the rain.
She was with him in spirit. Her voice echoed in his mind, taking him back in
time. Back to that fateful night. A night much like tonight, stormy and dark, brimming with dread, fear, loss looming in the distance like wicked fate.
He could smell her tangy, warm skin, feel her soft lips on his own, her tongue
tangling with his, whispering his name when he danced inside of her. One last time.
He closed his eyes, let the rain pelt him, cool him. The image of her atop him,
loving him in their slave home. A shack. They owned nothing, but they had one another
and that had been enough. He growled, snapped his eyes open, and sprinted to the back
of the great house on whispery feet. He could see people inside. White people. Three
men and a woman, seated in a circle on the floor. Candles blazed on the floor, and in the center he saw the witch’s dress. His heart pumped with rage. That red ruby dress that she always wore. Night and day. In the morning while shouting orders from her balcony, cursing the slaves, laughing to herself. She wore it in the afternoon when she walked the fields with her whip. And in the night when she called the men to her rooms.
She ate in that dress, slept in it, and bedded many a good slave in that hideous garment.
It all came flooding back to him. Like a blanket of lovely and horrid memories,
stitched together, numbering his days. Days spent with Daisy. The day she’d stepped
foot on Rose Hall in chains. The day that changed his life and his heart forever. She had given him hope when he’d had none. But there was always the White Witch-screaming, cursing, demanding, torturing, and killing if she so desired. From a young age, slavery was all he’d known. But it had not always been that way. His own people sold him, and he’d brought a pretty price. He always had his magick. A form of security. He thought it would help him survive, and it had, but it had not saved Daisy.
He watched the woman rise, cross to the windows, and pick up a bottle of liquor.
The wolf stomped. He cocked his head to the side, studying her. Was Annie alive? He
had no doubt she’d instructed a houngan to raise her upon her death. Her face was the
same, yet different. So lovely still, but it held something else. Goodness? Joviality?
Had she changed for the better? Was she no longer wicked in heart? He could not
imagine it. She had been so evil, so cold. Never would she really know true love. Her
soul was too black. He’d seen her true reflection. A beast had shown in the mirror, a
sign of the blackest soul. No, this was not Annie. This woman wore spectacles. A
mambo would never have to.
Strong gale force winds whipped over the stalks of the sugar cane, creating an
ominous whistling sound.
The wolf flattened his ears against the assault to his sensitive ear drums. Blinding
rain came all at once, in buckets, drowning out the faint human voices he was listening to. He’d heard the woman say Annie’s name. The three men were laughing, drinking, and smoking cigars. He could smell the smoke, reminding him that there were indeed worldly things he had missed while in the grave.
He noticed all the windows had been boarded up except for one, but the board
was waiting to be nailed, now knocking against the house. He’d remembered only one
such storm, and he’d been the one to board up the windows for Annie, but there was no
shelter for the slaves. All of their homes had been destroyed, one hundred and forty
slaves had drowned and many more were left clinging to the tops of palm trees. Rose
Hall was built high off the ground to sustain such an act of God, but the straw huts had no chance. He remembered that Annie had four slaves held in the dungeon at the time. She released them to make room for her dogs. She cared more for dogs than she did the men that worked her fields. They were replaceable pieces of property.
The wolf snorted in anger at the thought as he rounded the great house to
investigate further. Even the windows on the front had been boarded. The wind was
harsher from the front, so he retreated back to the rear, head bent, finding it difficult to walk at all, and impossible to run in such winds. He found shelter behind an enormous planter only a foot from the back window left unboarded. He’d take his chances. He doubted anyone inside would open the door to such a ferocious storm. He could make out the voices again and laid his head down between his paws to keep from being detected.
Watching through the foggy panes, he saw the woman spreading out the red dress,
smoothing the wrinkles before she sat Indian style across from it. She motioned to the men, and they joined her, forming a circle, laughing and drinking. He watched a bald painted man take a swig and pass a jug around. Never had he seen a painted white man.
He’d only seen African men wear tribal paint. And their clothes. The woman wore skin
tight trousers and a thin shirt that left nothing to the imagination. Most odd. The men were dressed like her. What struck him as beyond strange was the scarf on her head.
Like slave women. Daisy wore them, but he’d never seen a white woman wear a scarf,
and it was decorated with bones. What kind of priestess had evolved in this new world?

It was as if she did nothing to hide her involvement with the spirits. Even Annie was
very discreet about her black magick.
“Let’s hold hands. This is her dress. I’m going to call out to her. See if I
can get ‘er to show up,” Tammie announced.
“Oh she’ll show up, mate,” Ike said. “She’s not the shy type at all.”
“You’re full of it, mate,” Hunter shot back. “You saw a bloody ghost in the
dungeon. Yeah, right. Some hot chic in a red dress walked through the mirror and you
didn’t shag her?”
The men exploded in laughter. “Very funny. Stop yer flim-flam,” Tammy said
dryly. “Annie’s not gonna take kindly to ya making fun of her.”
“Whose making fun of her? Ike didn’t see a bloody thing. He’s just got jet lag
and was day dreaming about some dolly is all.”
“Call her up, Tam! Let’s prove this lady is haunting this old house. She’s here,
mate! I’ll show ya. How much you want to bet?”
“No bets! Bee-ave! Now everyone concentrate. Hold hands, close your eyes,
and I’ll do the talking.”
“If some bloody ghost walks in here, I’m staying at the resort,” Pyro announced.
“You scared, Py?” Tammie asked.
“I don’t do ghosts.”
The living room erupted again in raucous laughter.
“I feel right ramped! Should we be calling on the dead while rat arsed?” Pyro
asked, lighting another cigar. “Does the ghost care if I smoke?”
“I don’t think Annie will mind. Take my hand, Py. Close your eyes.”
Pyro grumbled something under his breath and then completed the circle.
Tammie had lined candles along the hem and the neckline.
“Annie Palmer, my ancestor, we call out to ya in peace and love.”
Rain pelted the back window. The wind howled.
“Christ, could you ask for a scarier night to raise the dead?” Py asked, visibly
“Shhh. Put a sock in it, Py! I’m making peace with the spirit. Not asking ‘er to
show herself.”
Pyro released her hand to take another puff on his cigar and then held it in his
teeth, keeping one eye open. “Sorry, luv. ‘Ave a go at it. Make yer peace.”
Tammie sighed, cleared her throat, and began again.
“We only ask that you allow us to live in peace with you while in yer home. We
respect yer need to share Rose Hall and hope you’ll welcome us.”
Hunter stifled a laugh. Tammie squeezed his hand and shot him a warning glare.
“Nothing’s ‘appening, doll. Do you think she’s gone?”
Ike only stared at him. He knew she wasn’t a figment of his imagination.
“Bugger off if you blokes ain’t serious. I’ve seen her with me own two eyes. I don’t
want the lady pissed at me.”
Pyro yawned as the winds raged outside. “Are we done here? I’m shagged out.
Totally cabbaged. I could really do with a kip.”
“But we’re not done,” Tammie whined.

“I’m done, luv. This is a load of old cack. Wasn’t the lady a big ole’ slag?
Knocking the slaves and then murdering them? G’night, Annie. Try not to haunt me
tonight,” Pyro added, rising to retire.
Tammie stood with her hands on her hips. “Naff off then! You spoiled all this!”
“You’re a right nutter, Py! You don’t want to ‘ave this dead dolly show up late at
night,” Ike added, rising to refill his drink.
Hunter stuttered something inaudible from the floor, back handing Ike’s leg,
vying to get his attention.
Ike turned and dropped his glass.
Standing before them all was the dress. The candles had been knocked sideways.
Tammie gasped, then bent to pick them up, still staring up at the dress floating as
if someone were standing in it. The temperature in the room plummeted.
Hunter struggled to get up, tripping on the rug, then moved away from the
billowing dress.
“Annie?” Tammie asked.
And then she showed herself.
Pyro yelled when she looked straight through him, her emerald eyes blazing.
Pictures hanging on the walls rattled as the winds howled and rain pelted the
Color drained into her phantom features, making her appear as human as any of
them. She flew down to the floor, and, though she had feet and wore antique shoes, she moved as if on rails, zooming toward Pyro with one finger outstretched, pointing at him.
She opened her mouth, and the charm around her neck glowed brightest ruby red. The
scream was deafening, strident, and wicked, an evil howl, full of hate and misery.
Tammie clung to Ike and Hunter, sobbing, afraid she’d done something she could
not undo.
Raging terror filled the house. Sadness and dread seeped into the walls, echoing,
bouncing back and forth. Fear gripped them all. A fear none of them had ever
experienced or even knew could exist. All of them were struggling to breathe.
Tammie fell over, gasping, reaching for her throat. Ike fell. Then Hunter. All of
them choking and spitting when the ghost spilled into Pyro’s body and disappeared.
He went mad with fright, running down the halls, back and forth, screaming like a
woman. His voice was gone, and in its place was Annie’s shrieking-cursing them all,
warning them, ordering them to leave. Possessed, crazed beyond reason, Pyro ran into
the kitchen and came back, sprinting towards the others lying on the floor unconscious.
Held high over his head was a machete. It was so quick. Milliseconds of glass breaking, flying, rain, and hurricane force winds blew onto the Persian carpet, peeling it off the floor as the wolf leapt through the window and hurled himself at Pyro.
At that instant, the phantom released Pyro, flying out of his body, turning to face
her old enemy.
He jumped on her throat but fell straight through to the floor with a loud thump.
She spoke to the wolf without speaking as he growled, barring his fangs.
Get out of my house! Go back to your grave!
The wolf responded telepathically. You’re dead. I’m not!
Annie only stared, studying him before she turned, walked into the wall, and
The humans awoke gagging, coughing, spitting, and Pyro stood there frozen,
holding an ancient murder weapon, white and in shock when the wolf fled from where he
came, back out the window and into the raging storm.

Annie's Tomb and Family Portrait Below

Release day! Almost here!

Well, this is an exciting week for me. My book Love Can Be Murder will be released from The Wild Rose Press on Wednesday!

It’s so amazing. It feels like it’s been forever since I signed that contract, yet it feels like it was only yesterday, too. So much has happened, yet nothing has either. I’m excited, yet scared. Hard to believe I could have so many conflicting emotions going on at once. :D I tell you, I feel like I’ve been run through the wringer with all these feelings stirring around inside. All in all, I think the excitement has won out.

A little about the book…

Alexander Forsytheʼs house is haunted. One wouldn’t think a hundred and three year old vampire would let a little ghost bother him, but this particular house guest has outstayed her welcome.

Alex detests witchcraft, but after discovering his ghost, Abbie, is the ancestor of the local witch, Willow Cowan, his choices are limited. Alex calls on Willow to help evict his ghostly tenant, but he begins to wonder if the sexy spell-caster might be more trouble than the ghost.

Willow thinks Alex needs her magical abilities to remove the spirit from his house. What she doesnʼt realize is that his specter is her long lost ancestor. Sheʼs not sure she wants to help the gorgeous vampire in his ghost hunt, until she sees a long lost family heirloom on display in Alexʼs house.

Alex is adamant that the necklace belongs to him.. Itʼs been in his family since it was created for the wife of a distant ancestor. The necklace had been given to every wife of the first born son. Heʼs reluctant to give away his precious heirloom to a witch.

Can they learn to work together and get past their differences? Or will Abbie be the one obstacle they can’t remove?

You can check it out at The Wild Rose Press. Remember, it’s available on Wednesday August 26, 2009!

For more information on me and what I'm working on, stop by my website. I'd love the company!

Sunday, August 23, 2009

Charaterization and You - With a Little Help From Jane Austen

Welcome to Kate's Sunday Special - on the menu today. The meat and potatoes of characterization.

What makes a great character? To me, it's not something physical - necessarily, but that always helps. It's something much deeper than surface beauty or the ability to buy anything they want in their world. It's the building blocks of their personality that usually seals the deal. There are a lot of authors out there who can nail personality so completely you swear the characters are actual people.

Who could forget the first introduction of Mr. D'Arcy. J.A. wants you to see his arrogance and pomposity in all its vivid colors. Without his "pride" there would be no story. His grand gesture at the end of the book - making Wickam marry Lydia - means nothing. This growth of character, the juxtaposition of the two D'Arcy's (before and after Elizabeth Bennett's influence) makes him a hero worth coming back to. However, we also learn during the course of the book via a servant that Mr. D'Arcy has always been a good man, he just never shows that side to the world. Interesting.

In Emma, the main character, the irrepressible Emma Woodhouse can't seem to keep her nose out of other peoples' love lives. Maybe it's because ladies of time, if born to privilege, had too much leisure time on their hands and had nothing better to do than meddle. Emma isn't a bad person, she just has the overwhelming desire to pair up her world in couples. Most of which are ill meant for each she later finds out. Again, we see the character through personality, and not necessarily physical attributes.

It's food for thought.

In my own writing, I try to establish the character of the person before I ever physically describe them. Laundry lists of hair, eye, and yes, even skin color, aren't as important as the soul inside the package. Though I do - most of the time write about reasonably attractive people - they aren't always necessarily one of the "beautiful people" on the outside. I'd rather my heroes and heroines' attraction come from something intangible. It's more captivating and enduring than mere surface looks.

Point in fact - while contemplating myself to sleep early this morning (I always tell myself little stories before I fall asleep - a hold over from childhood) I started thinking about physically imperfect heroes. Yes, we all know the ideal is the tall, strapping, mouth-watering, yummy tasting, hunk-o-rama but for this just go with me. I started thinking about what kind of personality transformation occurs when a person - who was once physically perfect - is suddenly thrust into a world of disfigurement.
Maybe something like a shattered eye socket that got put back together not as well as it could have. A busted nose that is so different from the original. How would he secure the HEA with the love interest if his sense of self-confidence has been shattered along with his face? Not easy. But we women can be odd creatures.

Sometimes, we can find men who are maybe so-so, incredibly attractive because of their character traits. (For a great example of this look to Admiral Adama from BSG as played by Edward James Almos - he's not good looking, but he's sexy as all hell.) -So, back to my disfigured hero - how would he make a woman fall in love with him. Nothing overtly, I'd say. He'd be too afraid he'd be rejected outright. Since the accident happened in his youth - no older than 18 or 19 - he's had to deal with the repercussions for years - 20 of them at the very least. But he's an intelligent guy, with his Ph.D. in the science field (research of some sort, I'm thinking) where he works in a lab. Maybe his partner on a project is a beautiful doctor and they have a standing dinner in the lab once a week to discuss the project and new directions...even brainstorm if they have to. Maybe these little "business" dinners, sometimes turn personal...the conversations that is...they start getting closer. Now, for me...a sense of humor is all so important and attractive and luscious. But maybe for this heroine, it's integrity and honor. Maybe she's been the recipient of too many arrogant boyfriends who are surface pretty but lack real substance. See where I'm going with this? She's going to fall hard for a man who she can talk to, who shares her interest in science and has both honor and integrity. What if she finds out this man she's fallen in love with plans to go back under the knife to have some corrective surgery to fix the botched rebuild he's had for twenty years. - I can just see the scene so clearly in my head. *sigh* I won't give any more of it away because I have the feeling I might use this sometime. But you get what I'm after - heroine falls in love with hero dispite looks, and because of his inner self.

So, read a Jane Austen book, look at the characters and think about why they are still popular after 200 hundred years. As the saying goes, beauty fades.

What are some of your favorite characters, and what is it about them that you remember most?


Saturday, August 22, 2009

Hell Spawned Weeks


My apologies for not posting last Saturday, which I have dubbed the week as “spawned from the pits of hell”. Nothing went right. Honestly, so much went wrong that I was starting to wonder what else could happen. It started with my telephone lines crashing , which meant my internet was spotty, coming and going. Then my neighbor called my son a liar on Monday. Even though he had two people verifying his side of the story, she still chose to believe her son over mine. Then to add insult to injury, Friday my cat tripped me and I spilled coffee all over my laptop. In less time than it takes to draw a panicked gasp, everything I’d worked on was gone in the poof of an instant. My husband didn’t even have the good sense to be duly sympathetic, but instead his idea of a pep talk was, "Get a grip! No one's dead!" *gives him a ferocious glare* He’s lucky he didn’t become dead.

So...because of my shoddy internet, my neighbor being a crazy bitch, my computer fiasco and my cat's unforeseen continued survival—kidding!...well, mostly since I can't look at her without bitching up a storm and threatening to kill her in a dozen different slow and painful ways—I lacked the mental capacity to post on Saturday.

My phones were fixed sometime Saturday afternoon and I discovered while I missed the consistency of internet, I had NOT missed my phone ringing. I called Dell on Monday, they were supposed to ship a box to me so that I could in turn ship my computer to them to be fixed. Yesterday (Friday) rolls around and still NO box. I was ready to commit murder by then. Everything I had worked on the day before my computer spill was not backed up, so until my computer is fixed, I have no way of knowing if any of it is still on my hard drive. Each day that Dell drags their slow ass is another day of not knowing the outcome of my work, which has me on the fast track to insanity. So, yeah, murder to a Dell agent in my next novel is hitting the top ten of my priority list right about now.

I wasted another hour of my life on the phone with Dell to discover that there was no history of my ever calling on Monday. The Dell agent murder just hit #1 on the list of my next kills and in fact that may become the title of my new homicide novel. Yeah, okay, I am kidding, but seriously that confirmation number did me absolutely no good! Grrr…. So, now I have a new confirmation number (I have little to no faith in it at this point) and another guaranteed box coming my way on Monday (right, I’ll believe it when I see it).

But, this week hasn’t been totally bad. I’ve learned how to work my online backup storage system. It doesn’t help me with the work that wasn’t backed up, but it’s a hell of a lot better than nothing. And I received an e-mail from Ellora’s Cave Submission department notifying me that I made it through the first round and my novel WytchBlood has been sent to an editor for further review. Now, it’s obviously not an acceptance, but I feel a form of accomplishment that I made it through the first round even if they turn me down sometime during the next six months.

My apologies for my murderous mood today. I hope everyone has an awesomely wicked weekend. My Saturday will be spent at the football field in the Southern sweltering sun. I’m melting just thinking about it. *fans self*

Note: All photos pulled from Photobucket and no copyright infringement is intended.

Thursday, August 20, 2009

The Pauper's Prize

I am so next novel, The Pauper's Prize, is available NOW!!! It's full of action and is an m/m twist on the old prince and the pauper fairytale. I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I had writing it.

Here's the blurb:

The ruling family of Corrus needs an heir and the Viscount’s son, Wilhelm, must provide it. He is to be wed to Catherine within the week to ensure the family name continues. He, however, doesn’t love her. He can’t love her, for she cannot give him what he really desires. Wilhelm needs a man to satisfy him.

That man is the most unlikely person in the whole town, a pauper named Pavel.

Will Wilhelm give up everything, his title, his wealth, and all his family inheritance just for the chance to be with Pavel? Or will Catherine make sure he marries her so she can solidify her place as a ruler of Corrus?

I will post an except next week :-)

Here is the fabulous cover (wish I looked this good with my shirt off)

And here is the link to the publisher, the fantastic eXtasy books

Wednesday, August 19, 2009

It's here!

I've tried to write this post a few different times today. My life has been C-R-A-Z-Y lately! The only local family I've had for years was my mom. Not anymore. My sister, her boyfriend, and 4 children have showed up for good. They have their own place but their arrival has added a whole new domension to my life. 3 different cousins have called to visit, my grandma was diagnosed with terminal cancer and I've been sick. My ear hurt most of last week... let me rephrase that. I felt like I was kicked in the side of the head! And I'm in the middle of edits! Does life wait for edits? They sure don't. I've been so busy with them that I haven't wrote anything new. I miss it.

But good news... here's the cover for Confessions. Let me know what you think of the new cover!

Tuesday, August 18, 2009

Matters of the Heart....Call for Submissions!

Are any of you wicked bloggers fans of True Blood? I love it. I devoured every episode last season. I'm giving myself a special treat this season and waiting until the season is over. I'll then have a True Blood party and watch them all on DVD. Maybe I'll order some of the actual drink for the party. Did you know they have bottled something to look like blood and fans can actually buy it? Squeeeee...looks like Halloween will be extra fun this year!

Unless you've been living under a rock, you know that Alan Ball (and anything he touches turns to gold....he did American Beauty and Six Feet Under...a genius in my book) only created the show for HBO, the real mastermind behind the series is Charlaine Harris, author of the Sookie Stackhouse Mystery novels.

Charlaine Harris

These books have it all. First of all....HOT AS HELL SEX! I love anything dark and these are very dark. We're talking about vamps banging humans. They nickname the humans "fang bangers". *Snicker* it! Then they have "fang bashers", those are the people that hate vampires. It reminds me of civil rights. Oh, yes, Charlaine Harris is brilliant. She even came up with the American Vampire League to represent the rights of vamps. Check out their blog.

American Vampire League

This just oozes with creativity. Give yourself a treat and go to the blog above and watch all the You Tube videos. Brilliant!

Charlaine Harris is helping All Romance Ebooks in their 28 days of Heart Campaign. I've posted the call for Submissions below. Don't you want to be a part of this great cause?


All Romance eBooks is thrilled to announce that their 28 Days of Heart Campaign has received the support of Charlaine Harris. The famed, best-selling author of the Sookie Stackhouse series upon which HBO's new smash hit "True Blood" is based will be writing the foreword for the charity anthologies releasing exclusively from ARe in February 2010. All proceeds from the 28 individual stories and the 4 anthology eBook compilations will benefit the American Heart Association. Submissions are open until October 31, 2009. Details can be found at

Open Submissions Call!
All Romance™ Needs You for the 28 Days of Heart Campaign to Benefit the American Heart Association During the month of love, when everyone's attention is focused on matters of the heart, we at All Romance ( want to help fight the number one killer of women, heart disease, and we need your help and your submissions.

Beginning February 1, 2010, we will release one new short story per day for the entire month. All proceeds from the sale of these shorts, which will be offered exclusively on as individual eBooks and also bundled into 4 eBook anthologies, will be donated to the American Heart Association (

The 28 stories will be chosen from submissions received between July 1 and October 31, 2009. Any author who has an eBook available on ARe, or whose publisher lists eBooks with us, is eligible to submit. Submissions must be 10,000 to 20,000 words. The preferred heat rating is 4 or 5 flames, though stories rated a hard 3 flames will also be considered. An explanation of the flame rating system can be found on our site. We are looking for a wide variety of themes and sub-genres, as long as the story is a romance.

The stories selected will be reviewed by an editor and provided with cover art, but please make sure submissions are as polished as you can make them before submitting. Previously published stories will be considered only if all rights have reverted back to the author and the story is no longer available for download elsewhere. Backlist and contact info for the authors whose work is chosen will be listed in the back of their story.

Submission details can be found here:

Questions should be emailed to Final selection of participants will be made and announced in November 2009.


Happy Writing!

Monday, August 17, 2009

What a difference time makes

It's hard to believe how much my life has changed in the past year. So many things have happened, both good and bad. Sometimes, I don't even feel like the same person. Along with those changes, have come decisions, even unintentional ones.

With all of the things life has thrown at me, my writing has had to take a backseat to everything else. I'm not happy about that, but that's what has happened anyway. I didn't decide for that to be the case, yet here it is.

A lot of it has to do with my changing jobs. Talk about a complete turn around. No, I'm still in the same business. I haven't changed careers. What has changed is mainly my hours. I used to work nights. Now, I work days. Big change. I also used to work twelve hour shifts three days a week. Now, I work eight hour shifts five days a week. It amazes me how my free time has changed. You really wouldn't think it would make that much of a difference. After all, it's only a matter of a few work hours, but I can tell you, my free time has changed dramatically.

It's hard to believe, but I actually got in more writing time working three twelve hour shifts on nights than I do now. Granted, it's wonderful working days again. I haven't done that in years, but I find it so much harder to actually get face time with my writing. When I worked nights, I didn't get to write much during those three days I was working, but I had four days a week off. Even if I needed to run around for a couple days a week with errands and trying to keep the house clean, that still left me a couple days I could devote to my writing. Now that I'm on five days a week, my two days off are pretty full. It was really hard giving up those extra days off, even though the twelve hour shifts can take a lot out of you.

Another thing was the change from nights to days. When I worked nights, I had trouble switching my sleeping back and forth, so many times I would just stay up all night when I was off. There's not a lot to do at 3 o'clock in the morning, and there's not much on TV at that time, either. My writing worked well on those long nights when the rest of the world was sleeping. I got a lot accomplished during those hours. Now that I'm working days, I don't have that alone time that I used to have. When I get off work now, there's too much to do. Supper has to be cooked, the house picked up, laundry to be done. There is also people vying for my attention. I understand that. They haven't got to talk to me all night and day, the evenings are the only times they get to tell me what's going on in their lives. Unless I want to stay up until 3 a.m. to write, it just doesn't happen.

I'm still learning the new responsibilities of my new job, and I think that once I've got that down it will help. I come home brain fried and not wanting to think about anything. That has made my writing suffer. Hopefully, that part will straighten out and I'll feel more ready to write again.

I realize that there are a lot of people out there who do this all the time and still find time for their writing. I just haven't found my groove yet. I know that I have to make a decision to put my writing back on the front burner, but when I'm feeling so exhausted, both mentally and physically, all the time it's hard to do. But, I will do it. Writing is too important to me to not figure it out. Once I set my mind to something, I always strive to reach my goal.

I'm still amazed at how much difference just a few hours can make. Have you ever found that to be the case? How do you handle your schedule? I'd love some tips.

Sunday, August 16, 2009

The Cost of Progress

It's time for Kate's Sunday pulpit experience. It seems funny that I'd get this of all days to blog, since I tend towards the pontification when I write. *shrugs* Oh, well, it's just part of my charm, I guess. Hehehee

Now, as the title of this blog suggests, I'm going to talk about progress...not technology, not social, not even political...but more of an emotional as tied to the craft of writing.

Progress for writers can come in many shapes, sizes and forms. You can be progressing in your craft by improving on the scope of your themes, improving on grammar or syntax. You might even make progress on developing more three-dimensional characters. Your progress might mean slogging through a WIP that seems to be taking you forever to write, or it might mean knocking out a few novellas in a couple of months time. For me, it means finally seeing the light of day after a month of being bombarded by the "house cleaning" portion of the writer's life. That's the galleys, the edits, the submissions that writers must do to get to publication but is not involved in creating something knew. I'm talking a no first-draft zone here. And I'm Jonesing.

As a result of this, I think my brain is fried. I stare at my screen, cursor blinking and I'm like...Writing...what's that? I have no idea what to put on the page or how to start it. It's almost like the words have dried up. But they haven't...they're just having a hard time getting past the bottleneck in my brainstem.

For me, the cost of progress is draining. I'm run down and feel like I'm in desperate need of another month of nothing but staring off into space and not interacting with my own work. However, that's not even possible at this juncture since I have deadlines coming out my ears and books still unwritten that need me. I'm not in a position to not work on things. But maybe after the last galley is put away, I'll take an afternoon or two off to do something different. Like take my laptop to my local library and sit there and write for a while. THe only problem with that is leaving the thing for a pee break. I'd had to put it all away only to have to take it all out again. *sigh*

Anyhoo. I have to bolt. I have a book to start and one to finish.

Until next week, my Wicked Thorn and Roses,


Friday, August 14, 2009

Tierney’s Take On Writing

Someone asked me how I managed to write three novels in a short time. My answer was, it wasn’t easy.


I didn’t mean to say that to discourage him. I was merely telling him the truth. But I explained to him the following suggestions that had made my finishing a story a bit easier.


Before I start writing, I already have an idea on what the story is going to be, where, goal, motivation, conflict, and how it’s going to end. I have this information or guide written down and it stays at the bottom of my page and OneNote. But like my first draft, my guide is also in a draft stage. Meaning I could change how the ending, whenever I see fit. It’s not written in stone and sometimes a change is necessary.


I am assuming that you already have your heroine created the way you envisioned her. Now, what is her goal in your story. She’s not just a pretty thing your hero is in love with—I hope. What does she want? You got it? Now, write it down.


Here comes the next question: Why does she want to reach her goal? What drives her to reach for it. In short, what is her motivation. There’s got to be a reward.


And just like anything we want in life, getting it is not that easy. There is always a conflict, a threat, an obstacle that stops her from achieving her goal.


With all of these written down, I always set up a deadline. Deadlines, especially coming from your boss are irritating, annoying or nerve wracking. But setting it for yourself—it’s quite helpful.  A deadline pushes me to get off my lazy bum and write. Of course, you have to take your own deadline seriously.


There are things I have yet to learn. I am not an expert nor a big name in the publishing world. So what I shared here might not conform to what other authors believe on how to make writing easier. But so far, writing down a guide has made my writing less frustrating.


Questions? You can post it here or you can email me. I’d love to hear from you. :)



Thursday, August 13, 2009


I need followers cause otherwise I look like a no mates...and us Aussies hate being a no mates...

Twitter me

No writing news other than I submitted my latest work, a fantasy garden submission titled "The Cadet's Officer" to eXtasy last week. Working away on my next piece now, a take on an Arthurian legend...should be interesting.

Talk to you all again next week.

Tuesday, August 11, 2009

Inspiration as the summer fades away...

As the last days of summer slide by, I'm trying to cram everything I can into a few days so my kids will remember the fun we all shared. We stay up late and watch movies, go to the zoo, the arboretum, the lake and today we're at a very cool coffee shop downtown. The little ones play with toys on the floor...hey, any place that makes a space for kids makes me smile....and my oldest daughter and I bring our laptops and books to read. Right now the kids are playing Mickey Mouse Uno as I type this blog.

It seems like yesterday I was a kid myself, walking to the public pool a few blocks away, kicking a horse apple all the way. Sometimes it makes me sad to see how fast time flies but that should comfort me since I'm a writer. It seems like we have to wait forever to hear back from editors, publishers and agents. Well, I just received the fastest rejection ever today. I queried an agent yesterday and today I received the email form letter that said my work sucks. Gotta love those little love letters we get. I hold them all so close to my heart.

Back to me and my kids going to the Arboretum. At the Dallas Arboretum, they have these storybook cottages for kids to walk inside. I just love them. Each cottage is a house from a book to promote literacy for children. My kids loved Alice and Wonderland's crazy cottage. They had a ship for Treasure Island and some fish in a house for Dr. Seuss's One Fish, Two Fish. It just makes me very happy to see the city promoting literacy in this way. What a gorgeous arboretum. I wish everyone could go. Right now, tickets are one dollar for the month of August...probably cause it's so damn hot, no one in their right mind would pay more than that in this heat..ha ha...but they have a frog fountain for the kids to play in and cool off.

Storybook Playhouses at The Dallas Arboretum

The storybook cottages inspired me. It was my young adult fantasy that was rejected yesterday. I've been told it's "too far out", "bizarre", "weird" and I've had some say, "Hey, what were you smoking?" Well, have you read Alice in Wonderland or any of Dr. Seuss? What about all the crazy names he came up with? The man was a genius in my book. I also sent my query to another agent yesterday. I'll continue to send my work out. I know we all go through tough times as writers. And I've been told I'm a bit odd because I write everything from erotica to YA but hey, I have a lot to write about.

I just want to remind all those wicked bloggers out there to write what you love and never give up. Don't listen to the negative comments. Believe in yourself, spend time with those you love and you'll find yourself inspired to forge ahead. Dream big!


Sunday, August 9, 2009

A Week in Review or A Writer's Synopsis Lament

I came. I saw. I synopsed.

That's about it.

No, really. I worked on that damn synopsis all freakin' week. No lie. I've finally got it hammered down to 7.25 pages - not that I'm being precise, mind you. It's just the thought of condensing that down to only 5 pages is a bit daunting, especially since I think I drew blood just getting the rough draft down on paper.

Why are synopses the one activity universally hated by authors? Why do most reasonably intelligent and articulate writers dissolve into a mass of tears and tantrums with the very thought of writing the dreaded synopsis? How can something that is nothing more than a summary of one's book have the power to paralyze, strike fear and cause sleepless nights and instant nausea? It's a mystery. Or maybe not.

It's a punishment.

Honestly, I think the history of the synopsis has a very wicked beginning. It was probably designed as a way to torture writers who were searching for patrons in the literary world of bygone eras. I bet even traveling bards were asked to summarize their tales before the head of a large keep before performing after dinner.

I can see it now. A poor troubadour comes to a castle, dusty and aching from the many miles he's journeyed. All he wants is to tell his tale of daring-do in exchange for food and a nights lodging. He knows if he's good enough, he may even receive leave to stay on in a permanent position. Unfortunately, there is a line of his fellow troubadours in front of him. The line shifts and moves forward in a slow progression, until he's finally at the head of the line before the lord of the keep.
"Give me a brief description of your story," says Lord Icanmakeorbreakyou.
"Excuse me, sire?"
"Tell me the gist of your tale. Only the highlights. If I'm interested, I may let you perform half of it for my table. If I like what I hear, you may be asked for more. Or sent on your way." Lord Icanmakeorbreakyou, looks down at his doublet and picks off lint.

Thus the first synopsis is born...along with the first synopsis related stress.

Happy Sunday everyone.


Saturday, August 8, 2009

Happy Saturday to everyone! Today’s blog is going to be short. My son’s 12th birthday is today and I’ve been getting ready for it instead of writing my blog. LOL. I know what was I thinking, right, picking my son over the blog? Well, I can assure you I haven’t been thinking much, but rather running around, doing a lot of housework, going to football practice six days a week, karate testing and making plans for the spend the night birthday party tonight.

This week has been so crazy I haven’t even managed to squeeze in any writing. *whimpers* That’s starting to give me a nervous twitch. I need the writing to keep me grounded, happy, not moody... *tick...tick* I did manage to finish edits, a synopsis and a cover letter and subbed my book WytchBlood. Now I get to wait nervously for the rejection or the request for the full. *crosses fingers for the request for full* So, I guess, all-in-all, even if I haven’t written anything, it hasn’t been a total waste of time since I’ve been working on this synopsis for a while. *facepalm* I’m such a terrible procrastinator and I truly stink at writing synopsis. I am so ashamed of myself. :-/

I hope everyone has a fabulous weekend. Do something naughty or wicked at least once this weekend. For me tonight, I’ll have a house full of boys celebrating my son’s 12th birthday. YIKES! *ducks large amounts of testosterone*

Friday, August 7, 2009

Shifting Gears but with only one destination in mind--publishers

Two weeks ago, I shared with you the news about subbing my first paranormal novel, Wolf’s Soul: A Midnight Howl Novel. I heard back from the Red Rose Publishing’s acquisitions editor a few days ago. She told me that the contract is on its way to my inbox. She liked my writing and is looking forward to reading more of my stories. Needless to say, I was over the moon while reading her email.


I didn’t think I could do it considering all I’ve done for the past two years was write contemporary romance. Before I subbed Wolf’s Soul: A Midnight Howl Novel, doubt, apprehension, and fear hovered in the back of my mind. But believing in myself pushed me forward, resulting in wonderful news. Of course, I could have received a rejection letter, but the most important thing was that I believed in myself and didn’t let the negative emotions weigh me down.


Recently, I left a comment for Brenda Novak on how she made it big at Her reply was great and used one of my favorite words—believe.


Publishing is tough tough business that I am sure a lot of people would rather not pursue . But if it is what you desire in the world, at least try. That is what I am doing right now. My hair is still black :) Who knows maybe when I start sporting grey hair and I am still where I am right now, I might quit, too. But right now, my blood warms at the thought of finishing another novel. I  believe that I can still move up another rung of the publishing ladder.


I have a new book coming out from eXtasy Books. The Wicked Proposal. If you haven’t done so, sign-up to receive my once in a blue moon newsletter for a chance to win a copy of The Wicked Proposal.

By the way, you can now purchase Three Christmas Kisses at Barnes and Noble. also carries my other books.


I would love to hear from you. If you tried one of my books, please let me know what you think about it.


Thank you all for your wonderful support.


Tierney O’Malley

Thursday, August 6, 2009

The Lighter Side

A lot has happened recently in regards to my writing.

  • Mama's Heart is out
  • I have submitted a new FG story "The Cadet's Officer" to eXtasy
  • I have begun a new WIP
  • I have been working on old WIP's
  • I have been submitting my completed fantasy novels to publishers
  • The Pauper's Prize will be out soon (September I think)

All I need is a steady flow of chocolate and I'm in heaven!

Thanks to Alisha for her support lately, too. My friend, you are an angel :-)

Talk to you all next week.

Wednesday, August 5, 2009

She's here!

I have seen this woman all over the web and have the honor of having her as my friend. Soooo, I'm proud to announce book reviewer Phoebe Jordan to our blog!

Why did you decide to be a romance reviewer?

Actually I just loved reading romance novels of various sub-genres that I kept learning more about with each passing year and it wasn't until the beginning of 2008 that I really started to find out that there was a whole world out there for romance readers. I started a blog with where I would start posting about the books that I had recently read. But then I got into networking with other romance readers and found that I might want to start blogging about the books I read with other romance readers. That is how I started my review blog Talk About My Favorite Authors but after a while I found that the readers I chose to join me were a bit too busy for blogging even about the books they've read. So I made out to be a romance reviewer since authors starting contacting me about reading and reviewing their novels because they saw that I've read a lot of books.

What sparks your interest in a book?

Since I was a child my mother use to read so many books to me but it wasn't until my aunt gave me the first three books in the Harry Potter series when I was 10 years old that I really got into reading books for the pleasure and not necessity of doing it for school. When I was in junior high school is when I started reading adult mystery novels for fun and Tami Hoag was the author who I happened to have chosen. Then it wasn't until I was about to start high school that I found out about romance novels with Catherine Coulter's Warrior Song and Nora Roberts' Three Fates. And as they would say the rest is history.

Do you have any pet peeves in books?

I don't know exactly but I think one of my pet peeves when reading a book is that there isn't a satisfying happily ever after when I'm done with the novel. That really ticks me off because I'm a romantic at heart and I want to see hero and heroine happy together.

What is the best book you've read this year?

Hmm...that is a really, really hard question to answer because I've read so many fantastic books this year and don't know if I could ever make up my mind with just one. So I'm going to have to disappoint you and say there are too many to chose from and I can't make up my mind.

Where can readers find you?

Well I'm on various networks for romance readers and writers so here are some of them:

Official Website (, Phoebe Jordan's Reviews (, Talk About My Favorite Authors (, Facebook Fan Page (, MySpace (, Twitter (, Red Room (, You Tube(, Shelfari (, Goodreads (, Ning (, TAMFA—Phoebe Jordan Podcast ( and iTunes TAMFA—Phoebe Jordan Podcast (

I hope that you come visit me any time. I love hearing from my readers and any authors out there who want me to review your novel on my review blog or if you want to be interview or be a guest blogger or even be on my new podcast show just go to my official website and contact me or get in touch with me directly by emailing me at phoebejordanauthor [at] gmail [dot] com.

Thanks for joining us, Phoebe. I hope you'll visit us again.

Talk to you soon...
Wendy Ely

Tuesday, August 4, 2009

The Love Letter

I have a great writer's group I formed in my hometown of Dallas, Texas. It's a writer's and wine tasting group. We haven't had a wine tasting yet but I'm planning one soon. Last Friday night we met in a funky little coffee shop near my home because it's just so hard for me to leave my baby behind. He's 1 and 1/2 and two to three hours without Mommy is his max. The coffee shop was five minutes from my house in the old downtown square. My group has like fifty members but usually only 15 to 20people show. And now that I've scheduled it closer to home, even less people come because they prefer the meetings in the heart of Dallas. I figured the people that truly want to come will show, right?

Well, I only had four people show up last Friday night but it was a great night because it was much more intimate. Everyone shared a bit of their work. We had a new guy show up. Bruce is a friend of one of my regular members. He's 79 years old. He showed up and read a love letter he wrote to his wife. His wife died last October. He became emotional toward the end so his friend finished reading it. I was crying my eyes out as I listened to this beautiful letter about a doll he found in a doll shop. The doll was over 100 years old and he bought it because it reminded him of his wife and her beautiful face. This beautiful letter reminded me of something. We are all writers. Published or unpublished. When we put our thoughts and feelings down on paper, we can remember it for a lifetime and it will be there when we are gone for others to enjoy.

I hugged this special writer after the meeting and asked him to come again. He smelled like a pipe and I made a mental note to choose a location where he can smoke his pipe next time. I love the smell of apple wood smoke. He bought one of my books and I tried to tell him that he won't enjoy it because it's a romance. He protested and insisted that he reads romance. Bruce called me today to tell me how much he is enjoying my book, particularly the Indian legend within. I have to admit I was worried he'd cringe at the sex scenes, but I reminded myself that even though he's 79years old, he's still a man. A man that has lived a big life and loved big. I can't tell you how much that phone call meant to me. I've asked dozens and dozens of readers to please email me when they read my book and let me know if they liked it. I stopped asking that because I rarely get feedback from my readers. And now I wonder if Bruce knows how much his letter to his wife meant to me last Friday night as we all sat in a cozy coffee shop. It started pouring down rain and my heart began to ache for Bruce and his loss. He said this after he read. "I was in love with my wife." He shook a little when he said it and I could picture his face when he was younger. I could picture his beautiful wife and their life together. And how fast the years must have flown by.

I was happy to be only five minutes from home so I could rush home and see my family. As I pulled into the drive in the pouring rain, my headlights shined into the carport. My husband was sitting there with our two little ones on his lap, waiting for me, watching the rain. I slammed the car door and ran to keep from getting drenched. My husband asked me what I was cooking and I couldn't help but smile. It was good to be home.

~xxoo Alisha

Sunday, August 2, 2009

Busy, Busy, Busy

It's been two weeks since I've returned from D.C. and the RWA conference and I still haven't seen the light of day. I came home to 2 galleys, first edits, a synopsis, 5 contest entries of 60 pages each —all of which has to be done asap. Imagine my surprise when I couldn't do them all at once. Oh, and plus, I have to work at my paying job.

Sheesh. What's a writer to do?


Yeah, like that doesn't want to make my head explode. Since the hard deadline was for the contests. I tackled them first. One a day for five days. Check. Read through galley number 3 (or is it 4) for Immorati. Check. Started on edits for High Octane - with major blocks of information added. Check. Started on galley 2 for Tin Gods. Check. Piddled with synopsis. Checkarooni.

Had family visit from Michigan. Check.

Wait! That wasn't on the original list. Back up the bus.

Yes, into this chaos, we had visitors. My work was pushed back a few more days. But that's cool, I really like these family members and we all had a good time.

Needless to say, I'm still working on the synopsis. As a matter of fact, I should be working on it right now. But I'm not. I'm here writing my blog I've been neglecting. And my desktop computer is acting up. Running slow. The big fan keeps going on and off. I'm afraid the thing is going to go out on me. I keep telling it, I bought the new laptop for ease in front of the living room tv. That it isn't going to be hooked up to the internet. It doesn't believe me. I'm going to have to see about loading all my hard drive files into my off-site email account and onto disks. Just in case.

This is soooo not good.

I'm feeling the stress.

It's only a matter of time before I spontanously combust.

I'll let you know next week how things are going.

Until then, sign me

-Desperate in Duluth.

Saturday, August 1, 2009

One of those weeks...

Instead of coming up with something original, I reposted this blog here today since it was late being posted at my other blog. Apologies if you're already read it, but hopefully you understand after the week I've had.


It’s been one of those weeks. Have you ever felt like you were going crazy? Or were too busy to think clearly? That’s been my week. It started off with my son injuring himself at football practice. While the doctor’s don’t believe he broke his wrist, the fact that he’s complaining of pain over a growth plate is cause for concern apparently. So, he received a nice, bright red cast on his arm. We go back next Wednesday to remove the cast, x-ray it again and reassess.

That doesn’t get you out of football practice though. Oh, no, apparently there is plenty he can learn even though he cannot catch the ball or tackle anyone. Between both my boys, I am at football practice six days a week. I’m developing a hatred for football right about now and it’s just begun. *curls into a tight ball and whimpers* In fact, we're practicing today bright and early at 8:30 a.m.

Amidst all the football practice, we’ve had karate classes this week because my boys are scheduled to test next week. Yes, we need to add one more sport into my household. Say, ‘Brain the Mom’ sounds like something I could really enjoy right about now. Yes, that was dry sarcasm and no, I really don’t want to play it. But…give me another week and I may brain myself. ;-)

I registered my oldest son for middle school Wednesday and three hours and three-freaking-hundred dollars later, he’s officially a middle schooler. You know the cost of registration roughly came out to one hundred dollars an hour. Who knew middle school was so expensive. And this is my free public education!!! Wow…is amazed…how much would it cost if I had to pay for it? *yes, more dry sarcasm*

On top of that, I’ve been cleaning all week…kind of like spring cleaning in the summer. It’s long overdue, but I’m exhausted and running on fumes, I’m ready to kill half my family, they’re probably ready to kill me and I’m told tonight that my in-laws are coming in the morning!! *bangs head against the wall* I don’t mind them coming, I truly don’t, but a little more notice would have been appreciated! Enough notice so I’d have known to actually sweep and mop the floors, or clean the guest bedroom.

Yesterday I forgot to post my blog at Moonlight, Lace and Mayhem until fellow blogger reminded me that it was Friday and NOT, in fact, Thursday. *facepalm* Maybe I should place an ad in the newspaper....“Hardworking Desperate Mom needs a new LOW maintenance family”. Eh...I doubt I'd get any bidders. :-/ I'd be better off screaming “Calgon…take me away!” Probably have a better chance of that happening. Or better yet…*giggles evilly*...I'd rather scream, “Jensen Ackles, take me away!!!!” *sighs dreamily at the naked fantasies that scamper through my head*

*hears a whip snap and bolts straight up in the chair* Right…back to work!

Hope everyone has an awesome weekend!
Wicked Thorn and Roses © 2008. Design by :Yanku Templates Sponsored by: Tutorial87 Commentcute
This template is brought to you by : Blogger Templates