Wednesday, July 30, 2008
We are so excited! Law's Deliverance released from Loose Id. Law and Larissa are both pretty special *Grins* and we're excited to have them go live.
To read an excerpt.
The blurb: Law's been urged to get a sex slave by many before he weds the "right" woman of royalty, but he's never thought about actually doing it. Until he sees Larissa sashay across the stage. She's angry, spunky, and beautiful. Before he knows what he's doing, he's bid on her. And won her.
Larissa's not happy to be won. She's not a sex slave and has no intention of doing what Law or anyone else wants. She soon comes to learn she's been bought by the Prince of Bergogia. Only being royalty has him in as many chains as a slave. With luck, a little hot, heady sex will win him over, and he'll let her go.
Larissa's plan backfires, and Law's more interested than ever. And so is she. But Law can't keep her forever on the side and she can't be his bride. Will Larissa be Law's downfall or his deliverance?
Mechele Armstrong aka Lany of Melany Logen
Saturday, July 26, 2008
But we know you'll love these titles! ;)
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
After getting knocked out by his prey, the would-be vampire hunter, Leif comes to...tied up and at the sexy vampire's mercy. His wannabe slayer days are over. Now he's got no choice but to team up with Amaretto and catch the rogue vampire terrorizing his city.
All of the books in the Awakening Desires series are also available in download from Ellora's Cave.
Awakening Desires - Capturing Carly By N.J. Walters
Third in the Awakening Desires series.
Carly Ames has yearned for Nathan Connors for more years than she cares to think about. One wild night of sex with him resulted in their quick engagement. But now that she has Nathan, she's not quite sure that she can handle him.
Big and tough, Nathan is very well suited to his job as a sheriff's deputy. Protective and forthright, he is definitely used to being in charge. Now he wants to be in control of her sexual pleasure, but fears his sexual preferences will scare a good girl like her.
As circumstances conspire to keep them apart, Nathan senses that Carly is having second thoughts. Now he must convince her that she's more than woman enough to meet his demands, in and out of the bedroom, because now that he's captured Carly, there is no way he is letting her go.
Awakening Desires - Craving Candy By N.J. Walters
Fourth in the Awakening Desires series.
Candy Logan loves her job as a publicist for TK Publishing, but her newest client is causing her problems. Determined to meet the elusive Lucas Squires and get him to agree to publicize his upcoming book, she crashes a party that he is giving in hopes of cornering him.
Lucas wishes he'd never let his friend talk him into writing a cookbook. He has his hands full opening a new location of his café, Coffee Breaks. He forgets all about his business problems, however, when a woman straight out of his dreams walks into his party. He knows he can't let her leave without finding out who she is.
Sparks fly between Candy and Lucas from the first moment they lay eyes on each other. The sexual attraction is immediate and consuming, but a case of mistaken identity gets their relationship off to a rocky start. Just when things start to smooth out between them, issues from each of their pasts threaten their budding relationship.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Recently, I’ve seen authors include their Play Lists either in the fronts or backs of their books, presenting the music that inspired them while they wrote.
I’d love to be able to do that, too, but I can’t listen to music while I do anything else that requires significant concentration.
A lot of people say that music helps them get in the mood, or helps them focus or concentrate. For some, it helps to shut out other noises and activities that would divert their attention. For others it dispels a quiet and an emptiness that is a distraction in itself.
But music is itself the distraction for me. I’m not sure if it’s because I had a fair amount of musical training or if it’s simply that I have a compulsively analytical mind. Music never fades into the background for me the way it seems to do for many people.
Even while I try not to pay attention, my mind starts picking up on the rhythm pattern, the key, the musical hooks, any dissonances or other unusual features. If the music has words, I try to sing along, even though damage to my vocal cords from a couple of sinus surgeries has reduced my once almost four-octave range to a croaky octave and a half.
I love to feel the way the words fit into the music and interact with the rhythm. I can’t help but analyze the chord changes, the interesting riffs and odd bass runs, the melodic highlights and the mood set by the percussion.
Doesn’t matter whether it’s classical, rock, pop, hip-hop, jazz, whatever. You play, I’ll listen. And analyze. The only instrument I play is guitar, but if I’m listening to an orchestral work, that doesn’t stop me from picking through the rippling swells of the violins, the rushing force of the lighter woodwinds, the contained bellow of the brass and the romping beat of the percussion.
Sometimes even when there is no music playing, I hear it in my head, and my mind wraps around the notes, picking them out on the fretboard of an air guitar, adding vocals in my mind...
I’m supposed to be writing a blog entry right now.
-- Karen McCullough
Saturday, July 19, 2008
Odd how our senses catalog these things before the brain really processes it. It's almost instinctive, I think, this evaluation of our surrounding without conscious thought.
I think writing is like that, too. When I allow myself to drop into a book (and a character and a place), the writing is instinctive. Words flow out, scenes develop, and I don't have to consciously craft a chapter. I 'hear' dialog and I 'see' a setting. When that happens, it's almost magical. I wake up from a trance and realize I've written two chapters and wow, the book is heading in a direction I didn't anticipate.
That's fun. And it's for those times that I write -- for that feeling of 'slipping away' somewhere else. I have more fun in my own head than any TV show can provide, and I suspect other writers would say the same.
Now to go back into that place ....
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Book 5 of the Jamesville series.
Alicia Flint enjoys her community, her home, and her career as a lawyer. But since her livelihood depends on her spotless reputation, it’s not easy to even date in this small town, much less take a lover.
Then a chance encounter with a stranger at a friend’s wedding tempts her to do something she’s never done before—have a red-hot, one-night stand. The guy will be gone tomorrow; no one need ever know her delicious little secret.
Gill Baron has come to Jamesville to visit friends and figure out what he wants to do with the rest of his life. As a newly retired, burnt-out cop, he’s not looking for love, but he won’t say not to a night of no-strings sex with the seductive brunette. A night that leaves him wanting more.
When she meets the newest investigator on her latest case, Alicia is shocked to come face-to-face with Mr. One-Night-Stand. Jamesville doesn’t need another lawyer-related scandal to gossip about, but the truth is, she needs Gill’s top-notch investigative skills.
Their attraction is too deep to keep the town clueless of their affair forever. When Jamesville finds out, Alicia wonders if her reputation—and her relationship with Gill—will weather the storm.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
I'm participating in this contest along with a bunch of other great Ellora's Cave and Cerridwen Press authors. There are lots and lots of prizes to be won.
Check out the contest here: http://thehussies.us/Contest.html
For even more chances to win, join us this Thursday, July 17th, at the Ellora's Cave Chat list where the contest authors will be having an all-day list-mom marathon. There will be all sorts of summer fun, sizzling excerpts and more prizes.
Join the chat list here: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/ellorascavechat/join
Come join us. You might win some great beach reading for a hot summer day.
Monday, July 14, 2008
My daughters are 7 and 9. One discovered reading in 2nd grade and began inhaling books. And I do mean inhale. The other has discovered reading this summer and as she says, "Reading's pretty cool."
But I already see they are going to have very different tastes.
The oldest had read the Fudge books by Judy Blume so I thought nothing of getting her Blubber from the library. She wouldn't read it. Wouldn't crack open the cover. She said, "I mostly like fantasy and mysteries." Which is true. She's read all the Harry Potter series, all the Secrets of Droon to date, is three books away from finishing Animorphs, read all the Nancy Drew books in her school library, etc, etc. I could go on and on about the serieses she reads.
The youngest has discovered Mr. Putter and Tabby. She LOVES those books. She's also reading Amelia Bedelia, Froggy, and Dr. Seuss. Animals and humor seem to be her reading of choice. It will be interesting to see if that changes. But I have hopes maybe she'll enjoy The Black Stallion and Misty of Chincoteague.
As for me, I do have genres I prefer but I read outside of them, too. I read a lot of paranormal and erotic romance. But I read animal books out the whazoo when I was a kid, still do, and read a lot of mysteries. Stephen King, thrillers, and romance rounded out my teen years. I think I have a fairly ecletic mixed bag of what I like to read and always did.
I was just wondering if everyone preferred certain genres like my daughters or was more ecletic like me. Did your tastes change with age? What genres do you read in?
Mechele Armstrong aka Lany of Melany Logen
Sunday, July 13, 2008
Hi everyone! It's my day to blog, but a fellow Aphrodisia author, Devyn Quinn, is doing a blog tour this month and I volunteered to be a stop on her whirlwind tour :)
So, enjoy the excerpt below and leave a comment for Devyn, and you could win a copy of her book! :)
One hand resting on her protruding stomach, Rachel Carnavorn struggled to lower her awkward body into a chair. Feeling her rear connect with the cushion, she smiled in relief. “Whew, for a minute I was afraid my butt was bigger than the seat.”
Devon Carnavorn hovered anxiously at his wife’s side, ready to offer assistance. “Are you sure you should be up, darling?”
Rachel tilted her head back, treating him to a flash of her dazzling blue eyes. Black hair a tousle around her face, skin stained with the flush of her efforts, she smiled. “I know the doctor ordered me to rest, but I’m so tired of being stuck in bed, looking at the same four walls.”
Her gaze turned longingly toward the back gardens. Outside the bay windows the darkening horizon was a mixture of pinks and deepening navy hues. In another few minutes the sun would disappear into the west and night would spread its velvet cloak over the sleepy sky. “It seems like forever since I’ve been outside the house.”
Devon caught her hint. “Maybe you’ll be up to sitting in the garden a little this evening.”
“I’d like that.” As if caught unawares, she suddenly gasped and shifted uncomfortably. Her grip on his hand tightened subtly. She hesitated a beat. “Oh, good one.”
Devon frowned, concerned. “You sure you’re all right, darling?”
Stifling a groan, Rachel forced a laugh. “I’m fine, I think.” She patted the voluminous tummy protruding from her robe. “I swear I’ll soon be giving birth to football players.”
Throat aching with happiness, Devon offered another light peck, this time finding her soft lips. “As long as the babies are healthy,” he whispered, “I don’t care what they grow up to be.”
He bent, placing a light kiss on her forehead. Even hugely pregnant and perspiring, Rachel still looked desirable. Her flawless skin was fair, almost translucent, her cheeks lightly flushed with a pink tint. Her slender body had filled out, breasts and hips offering lush and feminine curves. He felt blessed that this incredible woman had consented to join his world and become his life-mate. “Just don’t tire yourself.”
“Easy for you to say,” she groused good naturedly.
A female voice behind them interrupted. “Are you ready for breakfast, sir?” Nocturnal, the Kynn reversed normal habits, living night to day, rather than day to night. Though able to function during daylight hours, their energies waned. The coming of darkness returned their strength—and renewed their many hungers.
Devon straightened up, nodding toward one of the kitchen maids. “Yes, Anne. Thank you.” He looked to Rachel. “What would you like, darling?”
At the mention of food, Rachel blanched. “Just a cup of tea, please.”
Devon felt his guts twist. “Nothing to eat? Some crackers, or maybe a little fruit?”
Rachel wanly shook her head. “I’m a little nauseous,” she admitted. “If I eat anything, I’d just be sick. Tea will be enough.”
Devon quickly seconded the order. “Just tea for me, too, Anne. Don’t make it too strong.” He would eat later. Why force Rachel to watch him perform the simple function she could no longer manage. He knew her inability to keep solid food down had become a torture. Instead of enjoying all the strange cravings a pregnant woman would normally and delightfully indulge in, his wife couldn’t eat without vomiting a few minutes later.
“Yes, Lord Carnavorn.” Dropping a quick courtesy, Anne hurried off.
Trying not to show his worry, Devon took the chair opposite hers. Something was wrong, very wrong, with Rachel. Looking at her, he couldn’t fail to notice how much worry had taken a toll on her mental and physical state. This in turn vexed him. These last months had been difficult, unforeseen events slowly turning their joy into dread.
Less than a month into her pregnancy, Rachel’s hungers had taken a strange deviation. She no longer seemed to need the sexual energies of a victim to recharge her waning energies. Her rapidly diminishing appetite had strangely become stripped down to a single element.
Her thirst was insatiable, becoming difficult to satisfy. There were no clear answers as to why her cravings had taken such a turn. Unlike sangre vampires, the Kynn did not subsist wholly on blood; the act of taking blood was a very small part of the ritual allowing them to feed off human sexual energies. To meet Rachel’s need for constant feedings, Devon was liberally bribing a blood bank attendant.
The look on Rachel’s face said she wasn’t pleased with this strange turn of events. “I wish I understood why this is happening to me.” A tear slipped down her cheek, the beginning of a torrent driven by frustration and fear.
Devon hated to see his wife cry. It made him feel weak, helpless. Her emotions were strung tighter than a harp wire. He feared that she was going to have a complete mental breakdown.
He laid a hand on hers. “Pregnancy is unknown among our kind. The doctors have said they’re sure it’s only temporary, your body’s way of nourishing the fetuses.”
His explanation failed to placate her. “Not that any man would find big, fat me in the last bit attractive.”
He made a tsking sound. “Fat or thin, you’re beautiful. As soon as the children are born, you will go back to normal.”
Rachel sniffed, looking at him through a tear-jeweled gaze. “But what if I don’t?”
Leaning forward, Devon cupped her chin with one hand, wiping away her tears with the other. Just touching her caused his body to heat up in an unsettling way. They hadn’t had sex in months and he hungered for his wife’s intimate touch. “You will.”
A whisper of a smile touched her lips. “You think so?”
“Oh, I know it.” He kept his hand in place, his gaze steady. Soft and smooth, her skin still felt like silk to his touch. Enjoying her, he brushed his thumb over her lips. “Once the children are born, you’ll go back to your old self.” He arched a suggestive brow. “Remember her? That sexy vixen who captured my heart?”
Amused, Rachel sniffed and shook her head. “I barely remember being thin,” she groused good naturedly. “Much less sexy.” A grin caught hold despite her negative thoughts.
Devon cocked his head to one side. “Oh, trust me. You are one very sexy woman.” He found her hand, lifting it to his lips. “And you’re the love of my life.”
“At least I’m something to you.” Not the first time she’d hinted of her unhappiness.
To spare Rachel’s feelings, he’d settled on a course of discretion by keeping his victims away from his home. Just as a man had to separate work and play, he now had to separate his craving for raw sex from that of his desire to make love to his wife. A very thin line to walk, but he was determined to make a success of it.
He placed a hand over his heart. “You’re everything to me.”
Gaze sharpening, Rachel looked at her husband. A small frown marred her forehead. There was a pause while she digested his words. She didn’t look entirely convinced.
“Am I?” She shivered as if a chill wind had swept through the room. Devon knew doubt lingered behind her acceptance of the Kynn’s open sexuality. She still had trouble believing he loved her even as he fucked other women. Burning up with curiosity, she’d never questioned him even though she knew the late hours he kept weren’t always due to work.
Clearing his throat, Devon reached for her hand. “Absolutely and undoubtedly.” He said it with such firm conviction he thought that maybe he wasn’t trying to convince her, but himself as well.
Truth be told, he hadn’t relished the idea of his wife making love to other men during her pregnancy. She carried his children, a joy he didn’t want to share with any other man. This change, however unsettling, meant that he would have her to himself just a little while longer. Later he’d have to let her go, knowing she must physically embrace other men. She would be a predator, her chosen lovers the prey. It was inevitable.
And hurt like hell.
The secret pain he’d always have to hide within himself.
She closes her eyes and pretends I rake no indiscretions, he thought. He felt no bitterness, only resignation. Embracing the cultic realm always exacted a price. Just as I will have to pretend she’ll make none.
A burden they would always bear, but together.
Rachel glanced down at their linked fingers and exhaled. “You always were a smooth talker. No wonder I couldn’t resist your seduction.”
Tucking away his own melancholy mood, Devon gave her hand a light squeeze. “I did my damnedest to get you,” he said. “And I intend to keep you.”
She laughed. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”
Feet back on solid ground, Devon relaxed. “Feel better?”
She winced, patting her tummy. “Fine. If only our twins would stop punting my kidneys.”
Anne arrived with tea just as Simpson, his majordomo, arrived bearing a large box. “This parcel has just arrived via private courier, Lord Carnavorn.”
Devon eyed the package, plainly wrapped in brown paper and neatly addressed. “I wasn’t expecting anything.” Most anything he received was usually delivered to the nightclub he owned.
Simpson set the parcel in front of Rachel. “It’s addressed to Lady Carnavorn.”
“Ah, that makes sense.” Since word of her pregnancy reached the Kynn collective, presents of all sorts had been flooding in for his wife. All were eagerly anticipating the successful birth of the first born Kynn.
Rachel rolled her eyes. “It’s been nothing but Christmas every day for months. My God, I’ve gotten so many baby things I could open my own store.”
Such adulation pleased Devon to no end. “You are their queen, darling.” He sipped his tea, piping hot Earl Grey with an extra helping of sugar. “Get used to the spoiling.”
Rachel stood up so she could better handle the size of the box, about a foot high and a foot wide in circumference.
“Spoiled rotten already.” She tore away the first layer of paper, revealing an elegant hatbox. “How lovely.” Using her butter knife to cut the ribbons, she lifted off the lid and peered inside. A look of dawning horror crept onto her face. The scream that followed was as sharp and fractured as shards of glass.
Face paling alarmingly, Rachel gagged. “Oh, God. I think I’m going to vomit.” Pushing the box away, she clamped a hand across her mouth and squeezed her eyes tightly shut.
Devon rushed to his wife’s side. Glancing into the box, he slammed the lid down. Fear bit with the force of an arctic front. He ignored it. He had to be strong.
“Get Lady Carnavorn back to her room,” he ordered Simpson in a tight voice. To the hovering Anne, he barked, “Call Rachel’s doctor. Get him here. Immediately.”
“Yes, sir.” Confused and upset, Anne hurried off to make the call.
Panting through her mouth, Rachel didn’t want to go. “Devon, what is—” she started to ask.
He cut her off. “It’s nothing, darling. A cruel prank. Let Simpson take you to your room.
Rachel shook off Simpson’s hands. She swayed slightly, gripping the edge of the table to retain her balance. “I—I’m all right.” She regarded him narrowly, her grimace frozen across her lips. She was trying to be brave, and failing.
Devon insisted, his voice sharpening with authority. “Please, Rachel. You’ve had a bad shock. The doctor is coming. He’ll want to check you out,” he told her flatly. “Think of our children.”
His words seemed to convince her. She flinched, jaw clenching in a spasm, but made no protest. “All right,” she said quietly and reluctantly let Simpson take her upstairs.
Alone, Devon returned to the box. It sat on the table, a specter bearing unspeakable evil. His senses reeled, but his mind remained amazingly clear.
Inhaling a steadying breath, he let it out, slow and shaky. A grim expression settled on his face. “What fresh hell is this?”
Though he didn’t want to, he lifted the lid. The sight had the impact of a hundred pound anvil. Inside was a mummified skull with a few hanging wisps of black hair. The identifier was in the silver charm cleaving the center of the forehead.
Devon’s entire body went weightless, his vision tunneling toward the single spinning vision. His chin trembled slightly until he clenched his teeth. He fought to keep his nerve, too well aware that he was close to failing. “Oh, shit. This isn’t good.” He drew a shuddering breath, wanting, needing, to deny it all. He couldn’t.
The charm had belonged to Lilith. The head, too, had been hers.
Seeing it, a million confliction feeling poured through him. She’d had several of them made—had even given him one in an earlier time. The gruesome part of his mind led him to wonder if the charm had been introduced before—or after—her death. Either way, the vision wasn’t pleasant.
Tucked beside the head, a plain white envelope beckoned.
Hand shaking, Devon retrieved it. A bold hand had incised a message across its smooth white face: PAYBACK IS HELL
A thin smile warped his lips as conscience prodded with a sharp barb. Guilt shredded his soul into tiny little pieces. Gasping in bitter misery, the past had just circled around and bit him squarely on the ass.
The avenger was now being pursued by the man he’d avenged himself on. The realization struck the wind from his lungs and the hope from his heart. For a moment he couldn’t think. The scars of old memories were ripped open, again becoming as fresh as they day they were inflicted.
He didn’t open the letter. He already knew what it would say. Just as he knew who it was from.
Adrien Roth. The man who’d brutally slain Ariel Van Sandt, his sire.
Tucking the envelope back in the box, Devon closed its lid. Temples throbbing with tension, he sat down and passed his hands over his numb face. A man he’d thought long ago dead and buried had just crawled out of the grave.
“Apparently I’ve been mistaken.” An understatement.
Mistake or not, he realized his wife and unborn children were in very real danger. Adrien had made sure that Rachel would open the box.
Fear banged in his chest, not for himself but for his wife and the babies she carried. Despite the warmth of the evening, he was suddenly freezing, chilled to the bone.
“He’s not just after me,” Devon murmured. The shock alone could have caused Rachel to miscarry the babies—far too premature to survive at this vulnerable stage.
That wasn’t going to happen. Not by a long shot.
He needed help. No, he couldn’t call on the collective. He’d helped turn Adrien against his will. The Kynn were not about force. That in itself was a crime by occult justice.
Kill an avowed enemy. That was fine. Fair.
Make him what he despised.
Punishable by death.
Anxiety knotting through him, Devon pushed the fatalistic thought out of his mind. He had no intention of meeting his maker if it could be at all avoided. Because Adrien had never become a member of the collective, formally he wasn’t recognized as Kynn. That was good. It would give him a chance to clean up this mess without facing a tribunal.
Swallowing the panic lodged in his throat, a curse slipped out under his breath. “Lilith promised she would control him. I shouldn’t have let her have him.” He swiped his tongue over his parched lips. “I should have killed him myself and sent his miserable soul straight to hell.”
Hands clenching into fists, Devon glanced at the hatbox. Undoubtedly Adrien was thinking the same thing.
Regret. Remorse. No. He refused to feel either. The only thing he’d done wrong was trusting Lilith to keep Adrien. Somehow she’d lost control, and had paid dearly.
He wouldn’t make the same mistake.
Plans crowding his mind, Devon already knew he had to meet this threat head on, but quickly and quietly—and without further involving his wife. He couldn’t afford another mistake like that. Gut-level aggressiveness kicked in. He needed someone outside the Kynn collective, but within the cultic realm.
He knew just who to contact, too. Everything could be accomplished with no fuss, no muss and without getting his own hands dirty.
To catch a slayer, you send a slayer.
Thursday, July 10, 2008
On Monday, I stepped into the elevator at work and a man was already inside. He was dressed in “corporate cowboy” attire: button-down shirt, jeans so new they’re actually blue and the crease is sharp enough to cut something, cowboy hat, and cowboy boots that desperately need to be broken in. He looked me up and down and said, “You’re not dressed for Stampede.”
I shook my head, smiled, looked him up and down, and remarked, “All you’re missing is the belt buckle that can deflect bullets.”
He reached down, lifted his overhanging belly, and said, “No, I’m not.”
Oy-vey. Why me?
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
Series: Vampire Council of Ethics (V.C.O.E.) - Book One
Order at: Amazon | B & N | MbaM | MbaM
Beautiful genius, Carinian Derrickson, wants to live long enough to date a man from the future generations of spacemen, complete with ray guns and starships. She's not crazy, she's just afraid of dying young of some dreaded disease, like all the rest of her family. Her research into gene therapy has shown her the way to extend her life is by emulating traits only before seen in fiction. Vampire fiction. Only the beings that shouldn't exist are very real indeed.
Series: Vampire Council of Ethics (V.C.O.E.) - Book Two
Order Print Copies at Amazon.com or Barnes & Noble
There’s a rogue on the loose, and the Vampire Council of Ethics has just the man for the job. Alaan Serati, along with his team of elite fighters, is a Seeker for the V.C.O.E. The lethal vampire law enforcement assassin is also the most eligible bachelor of Clan Serati. His job: Take out the rogue vampire who killed his mate years ago. But working with a fellow Seeker quickly becomes a pain in his backside. How is he supposed to accomplish the mission if he can’t keep his mind or his hands off of his fellow officer?
For more years than she wants to remember, Tameth Serati-Cole has worked almost every day, side by side, with the gruff and gorgeous Alaan. It’s been hell considering the special bond between them, something rarely developed between mates. But Alaan doesn’t really want her. He’s still pining away for the woman taken from him years ago. So when he declares his need to bond with her, this lady Seeker ain’t biting…even if she’s wanted to since the day they met.
We all love e-books, but sometimes you want a paperback book to take with you to the cottage or to the beach.
If you like contemporary, vampire, time-travel, or paranormal, you might want to check out some of these books!
I just love these covers. :-)
To check out all my print books, just go to
Ellora’s Cave Print Books or Samhain Publishing.
Enjoy your summer!
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
So, it is with brutal honesty, and as a service to romance readers (and reviewers) everywhere, that I offer this critique of reality versus fiction with regard to my fiance's recent proposal.
Preparation for the proposal
In fiction, proposals are often spur-of-the-moment things, when the hero is completely overwhelmed by his feelings, and must make the heroine his Right Now. The alternative is in romantic comedies, when the hapless hero makes attempt after attempt to create the Perfect Moment, with little or no success.
In reality, my fiance wrote, edited, and revised a proposal. Then, deciding that still wasn't guaranteed of success, crafted a devious plan to reduce my willpower to nothingness before overwhelming me with his charm and leaving me no choice but to accept his proposal.
Lead-in to the proposal
Traditionally, the man gets down on one knee before his intended before asking if she will marry him. Often in fiction, there is first a sumptuous meal.
My fiance gave me a two-hour hot stone massage. (See above comment regarding devious plan to reduce my willpower to nothingness.) He totally wins.
The wording of the proposal
Fictional proposals are full of clever wording, double and triple meanings, and scintillating wit. After all, the author knows you're going to be reading and rereading this passage, so she's got to get it right!
While "cleaning up" after the massage, my fiance said casually, "Oh, I forgot about this rock." But it wasn't a massage stone, it was a diamond. Double-meaning, clever wording and wit, although briefer than most fictional proposals.
Fictional heroes tend to have either huge bankrolls that can buy diamonds big enough to give you carpal tunnel syndrome from the effort of lifting your finger while wearing it, or be sweet yet impoverished heroes who give promisory rings that they swear to upgrade once they've made good, which they're certain they'll do with the heroine at their side. The ring always fits perfectly.
The ring stopped just past the first knuckle of my ring finger, being MUCH too small for my finger, because it was a family heirloom. The diamond dinner ring had belonged to his mother, but the large central diamond had come from his grandfather's diamond pinkie ring, which his father had reset with a slab of jade in the center when he inherited it. My fiance now wears the jade pinkie ring, which he inherited from his father. So the stones in our rings share a history. And, we get to have the stones reset into our choice of modern rings, a decision I will make jointly with him, versus having to spend the rest of my life wearing a ring someone else selected. He totally wins.
The fictional heroine invariably squeals, throws her arms around the neck of her man, kisses him passionately, and says, "Yes!"
I giggled, closed my eyes, and said, "You're so silly!" Then realized I didn't recognize the ring. Opened my eyes, and squealed, "You mean, that's a REAL ring?"
What does this tell us about romance fiction versus reality? That real men can be even more romantic than fictional romance heroes. And that romance writers can be far, far LESS romantic than fictional romance heroines...or at least much slower on the uptake.
Friday, July 4, 2008
Add some sizzle to your summer!
July is getting hotter by the moment!!!
This month we have some of the most sizzling authors from Ellora's
Cave and Cerridwen Press here with us to help put some sizzle in your
Grab something cool and join us in a huge contest. Each author is
giving away a prize. All you have to do is go to "Hussies" contest
page, click on the author's name, and answer the questions on the
form provided and hit submit. It's that easy. And if you don't know
an answer, no worries, there are links to the authors' web sites and
publisher pages to help you out.
So come on, what are you waiting for? Have fun and good luck!!
Prize: to be announced
Prize: to be announced
Prize: Autographed copy of Things That Go Bump in the Night
Sahara Kelly and Scott Carpenter
Prize: Download of all three Parners in Passion books: Eleanor and
Justin, No Limits and Pure Sin
Prize: Download of A Taste for Jazz and new release, Maxwell's Silver
Prize: Tote Bag of Goodies
Prize: Download copy of Bekeweled and Bedeviled
Trista Ann Michaels
Prize: Ebook: Destined for Two, Book 3 in the Entwined Fate series
Prize: Download of Golden Seduction, Book 1 of the Rarieties
Prize: Download of Seduced in Shadow
Prize: Download copy of Wanderlust
Prize: Copy of At Love's Command
Prize: Print copy of Seasons of Seduction IV
Prize: Winner's Choice Download of any of Rowan's backlist and a deck
of EC Silver Playing Cards
Prize: Winner's Choice download of any of Robie's Backlist
Prize: Print copy of Summersville Heat
Prize: Copy of Sapphire Tease (releases in September)
Prize: Autographed copy of Second Sight Dating
Prize: Download copy of Man Overboard
Prize: Paperback copy of Fighting Chance
Prize: Trade paperback copy of Pleasure Raiders
Prize: Download of any of Kate's backlist
Prize: Download of any of Karen's Backlistn
Prize: Reader's Choice download of any of KZ's backlist
Janet Miller/Cricket Starr
Prize: A deck of tarot cards
Fae Sutherland and Marguerite Labbe
Prize: Ebook of Exceptions to the Rule
Prize: EBook of choice from Claire's Site
Cindy Spencer Pape
Prize: Download of any of Cindy's backlist
Prize: Copy of Heaving Bosoms in Paperback
Prize: Download of any of Ann's Backlist
Prize: Download of Intimate Art and Two deluxe packs of seashells for
Prize: Download of Celestial Passions: Meri
Prize: Reader's Choice Download of any of Mari's titles
Prize: Download of any Allyson James backlist
Prize: Download of Lucky Number Seven
Prize: Download of Book
Prize: Paperback book, tote and some goodies
Prize: A Charm Bracelet, winner's choice from my book-themed designs
Lady Jaided: The Ellora's Cave Magazine
Prize: Winner's Choice download of any EC/CP book and a Lady
Jaided/Ellora's Cave Goodie bag