Get Wild with Nanowrimo

I imagine we'll hear the wind whistling through this blog for the next thirty days or so. Now, now, quit crying. It's not like we're breaking up with our wonderful readers! But it's nanowrimo time--that insane month of the year when authors and hopefuls fire up the old coffee maker, chain themselves to their keyboards and take on the task of writing an entire novel in thirty days.

I've decided to use the time to complete edits on my upcoming release of "The Fuck It List: Bijoux and write another Christmas novella.

Why a holiday story, you might ask? Because writing those makes me happy in the goofiest kind of way, and in my life right now, deliriously happy is a rare commodity (although I have to admit misery and heartbreak and a marriage careening dangerously toward the rocks is good for the waistline).

A good number of our WGW ladies will be participating, so please, come on over to the nanowrimo site and friend us. Maybe we can all help each other through the insanity. Or, we could just drink a lot. Which works for me. ;)

I'll be uploading chapters of my nanowrimo project, Naughty Noel to
wattpad as I write, so if you follow that amazing application, be sure to friend me there as Liane Gentry Skye. :)

Dating Rules for Daughters

DATING RULES FOR DAUGHTERS By Maree Anderson (for Writers Gone Wild)

Hi all,

We were watching Jackass and laughing ourselves silly, in between wincing, and making sympathetic "Ooooh!" noises. If you've ever watched Jackass, you'll appreciate what I mean. If ever there was a case for ensuring non-procreation so you can't pass on an idiot gene, these guys would be right up there ;-)

Sure, these guys are fun to watch, but the stunts they pull are often just plain idiotic. They seem to relish hitting each other in the balls with various things, too. (Must be a man thing. So far as I know, women don't whack each other in the boobs with heavy objects for fun... and then film it.)

The image of Steve-O lying naked and spreadeagled on the bonnet of a car, and going through the carwash, is forever seared on my retinas. Hot wax, anyone?

Hence the laughing combined with wincing. Not to mention covering your man parts if you're man, and thanking God you don't have man-parts if you're woman. That's usually followed by thanking God one of these idiots isn't your son-in-law.

And it was that vein of thought that led DH to turn to DD and say, "No way would I let you date any of these guys."

Which led to DH establishing some dating rules *VBG*

• No dating anyone named Jonno. Or Robbo. Or Jacko. Or any guy with a name ending with "O", come to think of it. Especially not "Steve-O". (If you've watched Jackass, you'll know why any guy who calls himself Steve-O would be a no-go zone. That guy takes Jackass to a whole new level!)
• No dating anyone named Chad. Or Chaz. Just because I don't much like those names.
• If you decide to become a lesbian, that's fine. But no way will I let you date Lady Gaga. That woman scares me.
• No dating guys who ride motorbikes.
• No dating guys with souped-up cars who make like boy-racers.

I gotta say, these rules are a work in progress. They seem to be added to frequently. Poor DD has no idea what she's in for.

So. What are your rules for your daughters' dating? Do you have any favorite "You have got to be kidding me!" no-go types?

Just curious....

:-)

Maree

Everyone Has an Opinion

Do you ever read a super negative review of a book you just loved, and wonder if the reviewer was reading the same book you were? Happens to me quite often.

Everyone will have a different opinion about a book, but it always amazes me how varied the responses are. The subjective nature of a reader's experience with a story makes each instance unique. It also proves that an author can't please everyone. What one person loves, another will no doubt hate. The writing advice I keep hearing over and over is to stay true to the story you want to tell. Do you think that's true? Or do authors have an obligation to deliver something that their readership wants/expects?

I'll be honest--the wild swing of opinions about a book makes me scratch my head sometimes. Even famous/popular authors get slammed every now and again. I don't mind when a reviewer states that they simply didn't care for the book or point out legitimate problems with it, but when someone starts slamming the author and saying how the book should have gone, it always takes me back to that original question: Do authors owe it to their audience to deliver an expected or popular product? Or do they have an obligation to themselves, to write the story in their heart, even if it's unpopular with readers? (I'm thinking of the turn JR Ward took with her BDB series, which disappointed a lot of fans, including me!)

It can't work both ways.

What About B.O.B?

Jennifer L. Hart for Writers Gone Wild.

So, you know we creative types, we're sprightly creatures full of dreams and whimsy. And sometimes, just sometimes, the practical stuff gets missed. I have been recently made aware of a rather big whoopsie daisy type gaffe in my bestselling book (seriously, that will NEVER get old ;-) Who Needs A Hero?

*****************SPOILERS AHEAD. SERIOUSLY, YOU'VE BEEN WARNED!!!!!!!!!!!*******************************************************

The set up: Maggie, the nanny heroine, is all alone on her birthday. Neil, our hero/ mental train wreck, is off being super SEAL, the children are asleep and she's throwing a very festive pity party, table for one. Enter Leo, the neighbor who cooks like an angel and cusses like a sailor and has brought Maggie a special birthday present.

A vibrator, A.K.A a battery operated boyfriend. Or B.O.B for short.

So there is my sweet little former bible thumping heroine is, trying to come up with a polite way to decline said awesome gift, and her go-to excuse is "it's just not sanitary". Leo insists that B.O.B is dishwasher safe, top rack only, and then proceeds to plop it in the dishwasher between the sippy cups.

And the front door opens. Uh oh, Neil's back. Wouldn't do to be caught with the gay neighbor and a sex toy by the boss man. So Maggie slams the dishwasher and the next morning when she checks, B.O.B has disappeared and Maggie and Neil have bigger issues.

So....what happened to B.O.B?

No, I did not forget that he was M.I.A. Somehow, in the stretching the book from 67 to 80 thousand words, the ending changed entirely and the fact that B.O.B never made a cameo at the end got missed. Nothing worse than setting up for a joke and never giving the punch line.

"Daddy, Daddy, come see my sword!" One of Neil's eyebrows rose in a speculative arch. Setting down his seabag he looked over at me for an answer. I didn't have the foggiest and shook my head. Though I might not be the world's greatest nanny, even Marty knew better than to let the boys play with sharp pointy objects. "Let's see, buddy." Neil called out. Josh marched in, a giant grin on his face, a dish towel draped across his slim shoulders and B.O.B gripped in his small fists, wielded aloft like a big phallic beacon for all the world to see.

This was actually the original ending to the book, instead of the wedding on the beach. The romantic horse outpaced the comedian in this particular race, but I am sorry I missed this rather big (giggle) edit.

I will remedy in all electronic versions ASAP.

Never say NEVER!

The last time I was neck deep in boxes, I swore I'd never do it again. Move, that is. And I should know better. Every time I say never, it comes back to haunt me. I am quite happy in the house I currently occupy. At least I thought I was until a friend dragged me along to look at real estate with her. And that's when I saw it. The cutest, more perfect house in the whole wide world! And it isn't out of my price range (blame the economy for that!).

So here I sit surrounded by boxes, with my fingers crossed while I wait for the sale on my current house to be final. Talk about stress! The new house has a hot tub, a huge backyard with a six foot high fence around it to keep the grandkids in, a garage, a big shop in case I decide to try my hand at .... something..... It's small enough for me to keep clean ( Mrs. Martha I'm not!) Cross your fingers for me, I'd hate to lose it now. Isn't it adorable?

I'm off to do some more packing!

Anne Kane
http://www.annekane.com/

A Little Faith from My Four-Year-Old

My writing, sadly, has been put on the back burner (and I’m talking about one of those industrial-sized restaurant stoves) in my life, but almost every day, something happens to remind me that yes, I am a writer, and yes, there are those who see me as such.

This week, my Dear Daughter was that reminder.

It needs to be said that for awhile, I wrote, and wrote, and wrote. DD would be in my lap, napping. She’d be in her bouncy seat, watching. She’d be eating lunch in her highchair while I jotted down notes. I don’t think there ever was a time she didn’t see me with a pen, paper, or laptop. That was how I wanted my life to be—full of the things I love, existing side-by-side. For awhile, I had that.

Then this spring, our lives changed. I had been looking forward to going to RWA, my daughter was in Pre-K all day, and my Darling Boy had taken up her position while watching me write. In one day, we’d become a statistic, one of the many who were suffering from the economy and struggling with the turn of events. Our lives, and most importantly, our positions in those lives, dissipated like so much smoke, and we were left with just one question:

What the hell are we going to do?

We needed a long term solution in a very short term way. When we bought our house, we marveled at the space downstairs: a whole floor that was once a daycare area. I’ve always worked with children, and it seemed feasible that one day, I should do so again, and I’d be able to do it in the comfort of my own home. We laughed and said “Just in case the worse happens. We can fall back on this.”

When the worse happened, I went into survival mode. Within the hour of my husband’s phone call that he no longer had a job, I already had a child lined up for me to take care of. Less than a month later, we made the decision to start the daycare. I was going to be a small business owner.

In the swirl of classes, paperwork, setting up the area and advertising, writing fell behind. DD started kindergarten, I got my first rush of kids and soon, I had a few days a week where I worked 12 hours (though usually, my time runs about 10 hours a day, not including the cleaning and preparing for the next day).  It’s all very satisfying, but I truly miss those days where all I had a kid hanging off of each arm while I wrote and wrote and wrote. Now I still have kids hanging off my extremities, and I do write, but it is more of singular letters than words, or perhaps some shapes, and more often my creativity is in the form of a lesson plans for the week.

Last week, my DD came home from Kindergarten with a new book. We read it that night before bed, and she proudly told me the parts of her new acquisition. She pointed out the spine, the cover, the title page. She told me that the illustrator draws the pictures, and the author writes the story. Fiction means it’s made-up and non-fiction means it’s real.

“You know quite a few authors,” I pointed out.  “There is Aunt Debbie, and Shannon,” I ticked them off with my fingers. “Aunt Debbie writes non-fiction, and Shannon writes fiction. “ Her intelligent eyes lit up with that knowledge, and she snuggled into her blankets, getting comfy for sleep, but not before she smiled one more time at me, a thought hitting her like a lightning bolt.

“I know you, mommy. You are an author, too.”

Sometimes, my heart is so full, it hurts.

A Real Life Alpha Hero

We talk about Alpha males and awful lot here at Writers Gone Wild, so I decided to show off my Alpha male.

See that up there? That's genuine, Grade A, beefcake Alpha male. He can't even put his arms down. If he could, his knuckles would drag the floor. He's a total caveman. *grin* That's 6 foot 2 inches and three-hundred pounds of man. (Sometimes 6'3 after he's been "adjusted")And it's mine. His ancestors were explorers and conquerors, taking to their longships and sailing uncharted waters hoping for glory, gold and battle. Yep, those legs have pillaging thighs. I truly believe he could tear down a castle with his bare hands if he were so motivated. Oh yes.

Like all romance novel heroes, he's a considerate lover. Very considerate. In fact, there is no lengths to which he won't go to please me. As evidenced by his many injuries he's received in said pursuits. At one point, he even tore the skin under his tongue. Ruminate on that for awhile. I'll wait. *blushes* Yes. Uh-huh.

But that's not really the best part.

I've had some fellow writers comment on what they perceive as his lack of interest in my writing. He doesn't care for the genre I write in. It doesn't engage him so he doesn't read my work. But I don't find that unsupportive. Why? Because he's worked two jobs for twelve years so I can pursue my writing.

When I told him I'd won the Textnovel contest, he wasn't surprised. In fact, he'd squirreled away a little bit of money already to take me out to dinner because he said he knew I'd win. Just like he says he knows my other books are going to hit big.

I asked him what if they don't? He said it doesn't matter because I'll be doing what I love.

A friend invited me to Ireland and he's always wanted to go, but he sat down and started looking at our budget to see how much overtime he'd have to work so I could go.

He remembers what I was wearing when we first met. We celebrate our first date more than we do our anniversary.

My favorite heroes are scarred because it's physical evidence of sacrifice. My husband's are in the lines around his eyes, when he falls into bed exhausted, when I can see how badly he needs a new watch because his old one doesn't keep time anymore, but he spends the money on something for the kids. Or on more cat food for the strays he feeds.

And he never complains about how tired he is. Never looks for recognition for how hard he works, how many hours he puts in. Never complains if I'm caught up in whatever project I'm working on and I forget to do the laundry.

We just had our 12th anniversary on the 13th. We didn't really do anything. We'll celebrate more Christmas Day. That was when we started dating. We'll celebrate again on New Years because that was our first date.

And I haven't even touched on the banter... but I think I'll save that for another post.

Tell me about your Alpha male.

The thing about Relativity

Liane Gentry Skye for Writers Gone Wild

I got hit on the other day. At Sam's Club of all places.

Big deal, right? For me, yeah, it was. Let's just say the last three years have plunged me firmly into frantic-mom-wife-sometimes writer mode. One who has begun to wonder if the everyday bedlam would slow down just long enough to even consider getting the look-at-me, I'm all that, groove back. Somedays have found me looking in the mirror wondering, is it even possible to rehabilitate *that*?

But wow, what a difference a day makes. Somewhere out there is a guy with a serious swag of silver hair and a toothpaste commercial smile who thinks I never lost it. Who in fact thought me so adorable that he followed me out to the parking lot to enquire whether I was married. He didn't care that I had no makeup on. He didn't care that I wasn't dressed to the nines. He just saw something he liked enough to risk the dreaded feminine brush off.

And damn if his car wasn't hot, too!

Yes, I owned up to being married. And yeah, a part of me remembered a time when I'd have been all over it. I chose a different life. A married life. But I have to thank him. Because now I can't stop smiling. All because some poor nearsighted dude out there got all worked up over sweats clad, no make up, hair in an impossibly sloppy bun moi! I feel like Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer when his lady love told him he was, indeed, cute. "He thinks I'm hot. He thinks I'm HAWT!"

It's a silly thing, granted, and vain to the bottom of the ninth, this woman's desire to feel gorgeous in the eyes of the opposite sex. But when I got home, I found myself washing my face, righting my pony tail and putting on a nicer pair of mommy kick arounds. For just a little while, I saw myself as someone else did. A very manly someone. When I bopped out of the bathroom, my husband said I looked different. Pretty. And instead of brushing the compliment off, or getting aggravated that he doesn't always think me pretty, I shot him a wink and replied, "damn right I do."

And the shit eating grin hasn't left me yet.

Grey is NOT my favorite color right now!

Grey is NOT my favorite color right now! By Maree Anderson (for Writers Gone Wild)

Hi all,

*Warning* Please do not read on if you're expecting an uplifting or humor-filled post! (In other words, I have a feeling this is going to be a bit of a "I'm feeling sorry for myself" whinge-fest. So consider yourself duly warned.)

It's like this: I'm 46 years old, and I've been going grey since my early twenties. It's hereditary for some of the women in my family. Starts out with a stripe of greys right down the middle, about where someone would part their hair, and that stripe gradually gets wider and wider. And in this age of DIY hair-dyes, it's not been too much of a drama. Heck, I've been dyeing my hair for around 25 years! But alas, now it looks very much like I might not be able to dye my hair anymore.

You see, I have a weird, unexplained, officially un-diagnosed sensitivity to chemicals. These days, it's become more like an allergy, and it's gotten so bad, I can't even use shampoo or conditioner without being affected. Which means it probably wouldn't be the smartest idea to go to the hairdresser and ask her to bleach the current darkish color from my hair and put a grey color through it.

So I'm probably going to have to do it the long way: by letting the greys grow in naturally.

I know it sounds pathetic to be feeling sorry for myself when there are so many terrible things happening to people in the world right now. Yes, it's even kinda shallow--I'll happily own that, OK?

But for me, given that I can't use toothpaste, perfume or scented lotions without my eyes puffing up and my skin breaking out in weird red patches, and that the fumes from pumping gas or the out-gassing of toner particles from my laser printer are a nightmare, and I haven't been able to use skin care or wear a skerrick of make-up for the past 8 years, being able to dye my hair was about the only thing I could do to enhance my appearance. (BTW, I used a very mild permanent color with no ammonia or other nasties, and had antihistamines at the ready in case the reaction went further than the expected slightly swollen eyes and red patches of skin.)

I've learned to live with the no make-up thing, and I don't feel self-conscious about it too often. Well, for day-to-day things, at least--parties and evening functions are a different story, of course. And the prospect of watching the current 2 inches of grey regrowth slowly inch its way down my chin-length bob? So not good for the already lowish self-esteem.

And now? The thought of socializing, or even going to my usual weekly karate and Ceroc dance sessions fills me with apathy. Frankly, I feel like total crap and I don't want to go out anywhere in public. Plus, there's the whole, OMG, what will I look like with grey hair? Will it be a "nice" grey color, or a patchy salt 'n peppery one? Will I suddenly look a whole heap older?

Might not be so bad if I could wave a magic wand and go grey overnight. (Or better still, go kinda silvery, like Jay Manuel from ANTM.)

I'm trying to figure out why I feel this way. And I think it's not only vanity, it's also a social thing. My mother only went grey in her late 60s. And she did it gradually, with the help of a hairdresser. My DH, when I broached this subject after the stint in hospital with anaphylactic shock that kicked off this whole weirdass allergy thing, opined that he thought I was far too young to go grey. And my hairdresser insisted the same thing: "Oh no, you don't want to do that at your age." (Her expression of horror kinda summed up her feelings about the idea in no uncertain terms.)

And now I've left it too late to have any kind of chemical assistance, and I have no choice in the matter. I can't enlist a hairdresser's help to do it gradually, because if I can't even handle hairspray when I get my hair cut, how on earth would I handle the chemicals that would be needed to lighten my hair before the new color is applied?

Funny how no one bats an eye when men go grey. It's "distinguished", don't you know.

Yeah. Right. There's nothing distinguished about putting up with an ever widening grey skunk-stripe for the next six months to a year until the dyed hair finally grows out. Sigh. Sure wish that pink wig of mine would stay on during a karate lesson, or when some guy does a Ceroc dip, drop or layback with me.

See? I told you it was gonna be a whinge-fest. *wry grin*

And yes, the purpose of this post is that I'm totally fishing for sympathy. Not to mention some suggestions for cool hats, and maybe even how to wear a scarf or something to hide my "problem".

Bring it on, Wild Readers. Pleeeeease?

And thanks heaps for letting me whine and get this off my chest. I love you guys!

Maree

(Who is trying really hard to imagine what this halfway decent photo someone took of me a few months ago would look like if I had grey hair.)

Sometimes you just have to say " F@#k it!"

Jenna McCormick for Writers Gone Wild.

When you've spent your life playing by the rules, doing the right thing and getting absolutely nowhere, when is it time to say enough already?

For Mary, a.k.a, mystery writer Maryanne Diamond, the moment comes when she's been given a death sentence. Her heart is giving out and with no hope of receiving a transplant in time Mary is determined to make ever moment count. With no time for regrets, Mary sets off to seduce her personal assistant, the mysterious and handsome Luke.

LUKE!!!!

This is going to sound sick and disturbed no matter how I phrase the sentiment, but, well, fuck it. I actually envy the hell out of my terminal heroine and the freedom her death sentence has given her. No holding back because there is no chance for a do-over. Balls to the wall, baby! Dying is easy, it's living that's a chore and a half. Plus, she has Luke.

LUKE!!!! I seriously dig this hero, in case you didn't get my oh so subtle message.

Then again, I kind of DO already live that way. Not that I'm out to prove something to anyone other than myself. I do what I have to and when I get let out, man, I'm all out, bringing the wild woman. Maybe that's why so many people think I'm crazy. Yes, I have my moments where I sweat the small stuff but on the whole, I usually know where to draw the line. My priorities are in order. Family, friends, work, Rosa Regale. What more does a diva need? (Bacon chocolate maybe. LUKE!!!!!;-)

So what about you? Do you do like the song says and live like you're dying? Or do you have a fuck it list, stuff that if you got the bad news tomorrow, you'd start tearing through like the Tasmanian Devil on a bender?

Oh and just FYI, Book One of the Fuck It List anthology, Mary's story Letting Go will be available later this month. For more info visit www.sanibelmoon.com.

JOINING THE E-READER REVOLUTION

Oh. My. God. I'm finally taking the plunge - I've ordered a Kindle!


My longest-known friend (I've promised not to call her my oldest friend) was an early adopter of the Kindle, but when she sang its praises, I hung back. The device seemed expensive, and as a certified technoklutz, I was nervous about whether I'd be able to figure out how to use it. Besides, I really preferred paper books.


Then my friend and chaptermate Hope Ramsay (author of the Last Chance series from Grand Central Publishing) started raving about her Kindle, saying it made the transition from paper to e-books "seamless." And other e-readers, like the Nook and the Kobo, appeared on the market. But they were still a little pricey, and I was still a little nervous.


So I compromised. I settled for dipping my toes in the e-book water by downloading the Kindle and Nook apps for my iPhone. I was still skeptical, but since the apps were free, I thought, what the heck. And I found that while reading a book on the small iPhone screen wasn't totally ideal, by using a large enough font size, it was do-able.


Then last Christmas, the e-reader revolution really took off. Many people received Kindles as gifts in December and went looking for e-books to download in January. Self-publishing -- formerly known as vanity publishing -- completed its move from a scam directed at the naive to a legitimate business model. Now many of my friends had self-published books out that were only available electronically. In addition, the big guys had jumped on the bandwagon. While the Big 6's "normal" prices for e-books were outrageous, they started offering e-book specials that were more reasonable. And the prices of the e-readers themselves kept coming down. I did some tentative research on the characteristics of the various devices. I decided if the Kindle went below $100, I'd buy one.


Lo and behold, that day is now here. So my $79 Kindle is on its way. I can hardly wait!

BPW: Spotlight on Sasha Illyvich

Author Bio: I started writing eleven years ago. My erotic romances have been listed under the Night Owl Romance and Road to Romance’s Recommended read list, as well nominated for a CAPA by The Romance Studio

I host the Unnamed Romance Show on Radio Dentata and continue to write for Sizzler Editions and Total E-bound. Readers can find my work, plus free reads at http://saschaillyvichauthor.com

I edit for Sizzler Editions Intoxication Erotic Romance line and I’m also part of the WriteSex Panel, a blog group defining erotica for writers in any genre! Find us at http://www.writesex.net

Wolf Magic: An enthralling contemporary fantasy, and a passionate erotic romance. Marco and Selene. Werewolf and witch. He is the sexy, rebellious young werewolf whose anger and violence are legendary. She is a sexy, mature witch into whose care the elders of his pack have given Marco. At once she realizes he is more dangerous and powerful that the other werewolves. To Marco she is the most desirable woman he has ever met, and he knows he will never give up until he possesses her. As she attempts to show him wisdom, he subjects her to his very considerable charms. Something has to give - and does. As nights of torrid lovemaking and nights of the full moon when he tears himself from her side alternate, neither suspects that they are at the center of a conspiracy by the leaders of Marco's pack, or that they may all be pawns in an ancient prophecy from the dawn of time. For the love that binds them both is bringing death nearer with every beat of their hearts. Marco is strong and Selene wise, but these are as nothing to the power of the danger that threatens them.

~*~

Siddella’s Surrender: Prized for her highly sexual nature as a faery, Siddella hides in the fetish Lifestyle among the Cyber-Fae where she can mostly get her needs met while hacking and stealing data to dismantle the Mechanized version of Faery and return it to its former glory.

Frika needs the power of a Faery along with her sexual energy to strengthen his wolves. As the guardians of what lies between, they keep balance on how much good/bad travels between worlds, until recent attacks on them have weakened him and his forces.

Upon spotting her at a party, Frika realizes that Siddella is the one who can strengthen him. Kidnapping her and unleashing sexual pleasures on her becomes his new goal until an enemy stalks them and forces them into hiding. How will the two of them survive?

~*~

Bound to Her: Luka has finally united the local and regional packs of Northern California, but Lajon the Eldest says Luka needs a mate to balance him out. Michele hates the fact that she’s Lupine and wants nothing to do with her heritage since the accidental killing of her parents. Yet the necklace Luka wears intrigues her despite her disposition towards wolves. Can the two lovers share passion and learn to be together from the heart or will the work Luka’s put into building an alliance go to waste?

~*~

Dark Traders: A novel of dark, forbidden love! Miranda is the SEC's sexiest and savviest investigator. But she meets her match when she is assigned to investigate the X Corp, a company founded and run by vampires. But before she can determine if the undead have violated fair trading rules on the NYSE, Jet Curtis, vampire, X Corp's top hit man is sent to kill her.

However, once Jet sees Miranda his thoughts turn to kissing, not killing. The two make passionate love, and then, Jet turns her into a vampire like himself. Miranda disappears. Then a year later, she returns, now one of undead, with vengeance on her mind.

Can she and Jet settle their differences in order to stop X Corporation from causing chaos on the stock exchange and ruining the American economy? Here is a premium blend of dark eroticism and vampiric carnality for those who like their vampires with just a dash of sex.

~*~

Heavenly Bodies (out in print now) Real erotica, full of pain intermingled with pleasure. Love makes the sexual scenes more powerful. Sensuality Level: Scorching." raves Ann Leveille of Sensual Reviews. Two exceptional novellas of fantasy and eros by the author Coffee Time Romance calls "Amazing!" and rates "Four Stars!" In "Sacrifice," Ares, the God of War, is banished from Olympus, falls in love with a mortal woman and is called upon to make a very unusual sacrifice if he wants to keep her. In "Echo s Odyssey," the wars of faery are over, but for the assassin Echo and his lover Alexandrya, a new war is just beginning. They return to faery expecting to be reunited with the third member of their triad, the princess Serenissa, only to find she and faery itself are threatened by even greater peril. Heavenly Bodies is a pair of erotic, romantic adventures dealing with carnal love between humans and gods and fairies with their heavenly bodies!

Wild Trivia:

1. The feminine part of me that I allow to indulge in cross dressing is REALLY feminine. Alpha but still into girly pink…

2. I like classic clothes, classic movies and violent heavy metal.

3. I prefer a room full of cigar and pipe smokers to a club, sophistication to anything less and slightly understated to overly brash

4. I own the first 30 or so Harlequin Blaze novels.

5. I’m an avid practitioner of traditional Chinese medicine.

Every had one of those weeks?

Well I had a whole blog post typed up to tell you what a lousy week I've had. It was brilliant and quite humorous, but you're not going to get to read it, at least not today. You see, the copy and paste function seems to have fled. I've spent the last half hour trying everything I can think of but it's a no go, which is quite funny since I thought thinks were starting to improve in my little corner of the world. Apparently not :)

So you don't get to read my witty discussion of the many mishaps of the week and I sit here wondering if maybe I've done something to offend the gods. I think I'll have another glass of wine while I contemplate the perils of communicating in a digital world.

Maybe by next week, I'll be able to post the original blog!

Cheers!

Anne Kane

http://www.annekane.com/

The Empty Nest

My second novel, FALLEN ANGEL, just published, and at the same time, I just handed off the copy edit notes for the final book in the series, NAKED ANGEL. I have the strange mixed emotions of feeling good that I completed a trilogy, and sad that the people who have lived in my head for a year and a half will no longer reside there.
So now I have the writer’s equivalent of empty nest syndrome. I knew this day was coming, and so I’ve been spending the last month or so trying out different ideas of what to write next. Nothing really clicked for me, but now that the series is really done I have an idea and characters that are starting to “breathe.” I wonder if maybe I had to really feel finished with Blue Angel in order to commit to new characters and a new story. I know I can’t let myself be this way; Many successful writers have multiple series going at one time.

I went to Barnes & Noble on 86th street today to see if FALLEN ANGEL was on the shelf. It was, and there is nothing more exciting that seeing that book in the store for the first time. I really hope that ebooks don’t entirely replace the physical book. It is sad to think that a few years from now, and author won’t have the chance to experience what I did this afternoon.
I hope by the next time I write, the new novel will be developing to keep my company full-time.

In the meantime, I will visit my baby on the shelves.

BPW: Spotlight on MJ Fredrick

MJ Fredrick knows about chasing dreams. Twelve years after she completed her first novel, she signed her first publishing contract. Now she divides her days between teaching fourth grade students how to write, and diving into her own writing—traveling everywhere in her mind, from Belize to Honduras to Africa to the past.

She's a four-time Golden Heart Award finalist. She won the 2009 Eppie Award with Hot Shot and the 2011 with Breaking Daylight. Her romantic suspense titles include Hot Shot, Breaking Daylight, Beneath the Surface and Don't Look Back. Her first book was a contemporary romance, Where There's Smoke.

www.mjfredrick.com

Something to Talk About:

Taking chances is never easy--especially when the whole town is watching.

Ellie Morgan is trying to stay below the radar in a small town. Her break-up with her football coach boyfriend and growing interest in her best friend's
widower are grist to the local gossip mill. Her friendship with the local psychic and the return of her prodigal mother are the cherries on the cake.

Add a meddling preacher, a water-loving dog and a man trying to shake off his past, and Ellie's got more than enough on her plate in her quest forlove.

~*~

Midnight Sun:

Brylie Winston has made some mistakes in her life, but she didn’t think she’d repeat one. She didn’t realize the man whose bed she left this morning after a rare impulsive night of passion was her boss. Worse, he owns the cruise ship where she works, and of course, he’s on board for their trip to Antarctica. And instead of being pissed that she snuck out on him, he seems determined to have a repeat performance.

Marcus Devlin knew his family would make good on their threat to send him to the ends of the earth some day. He didn’t think it would be quite so literal, sticking him on a cruise ship to Antarctica, after his latest scandal. Time for him to learn the family business. Things look up when he spots the gorgeous redhead from last night.

If he thought it would be smooth sailing, he was sadly mistaken.

~*~

Don't Look Back:

When her best friend is kidnapped in Africa, Dr. Liv Olney must return to the scene of her own horrific captivity. The only man she trusts is former Army Lt. Gerard “Del” Delaney, the man who rescued her. Even with him, she can't relinquish control of her emotions, needing to keep painful memories at bay.
Del takes honor seriously, but sometimes neither honor nor humanity are found in the orders he receives. In exile after a court martial that stripped him of everything, he misses his son and his country. When Liv asks for help, his instinct is to turn away. But her courage reaches out to him and he cannot refuse, especially when she promises that she can help clear his name so he can go home.
Together they travel to Africa, where they fight warlords and monsoons, and learn to trust and hope that, together, they can find happiness and peace.

~*~

Beneath the Surface:

In retrospect, perhaps archaeologist Mallory Reeves shouldn't have delivered the divorce papers to her estranged husband mere weeks before her marriage to another man. She knew seeing Adrian again would stir up memories, but she didn't expect so many of them to be good, not after the mess they both made three years ago.

She also didn't expect to want to stay at the dig site on the Yucatan Peninsula. But the lure of the ancient ship and, yes, her sexy ex provide more of a draw than the white picket fence she thought she wanted.

Marine archaeologist Adrian Reeves has good reason to trust no one. His former partner—and former best friend—made off with his last archaeological find. And his wife left him, frustrated by his obsession for professional revenge.

Now both Mallory and his nemesis have returned, and it can’t be an accident that they've turned up in the middle of the most important excavation of his career. Seeing her again unearths old pain—and rekindles never-forgotten desire. Now he has to decide if he can trust Mallory again. More importantly, if he can trust himself with her.

~*~

Sunrise Over Texas:

Kit Barclay followed her husband into the wilds of Texas only to be widowed. Stranded with her mother- and sister-in-law to care for, with no hope of rescue before winter sets in, Kit has only one goal: survival. So when a lone horseman appears on the horizon, and then falls from his mount in fever, Kit must weigh the safety of her family against offering aid and shelter to the handsome stranger.

Trace Watson has lost everything that ever mattered to him. Trying to forget, he heads to the frontier colony of San Felipe, not caring if he lives or dies. But when he wakes to discover he's being nursed back to health by a brave young widow, he vows to repay her kindness by guiding the three women back to civilization, no matter what the cost.

Soon, Kit and Trace are fighting the elements, Indian attacks and outlaws—as well as feelings they both thought were long buried...

Wild Trivia:

I live less than ten minutes from where I grew up, so though I like to travel in my books, I'm NOT that adventurous in real life!

My favorite TV shows are Friday Night Lights, Justified and Supernatural.

I'm a music teacher, so I like to listen to music while I write. Currently loving The Return of the King soundtrack.

I take FOREVER to make decisions in real life. If only they could be deleted as easily as the decisions I put on the page!

I've been married more than half my life, so of course I believe in happy endings!