READ STEALING CARMEN. I finally have a release date of December 26, 2007!! Yayyyy.
STEALING CARMEN is a delicious love story with a Christmas ending. I was so afraid it would not get a December release date because it's not part of the lovely Holiday series EC has planed. STEALING CARMEN came to me long after those deadlines had past.
So here is a little bit of Christmas early from STEALING CARMEN
He really was a fucking romantic. Carmen had seen right through him. Who arrives on Christmas Eve and expects the little woman to be waiting when she hasn’t heard from him in seventeen months?
Jack concentrated on getting the plane on the ground. It was a near thing but he eventually came to a skidding halt, the nose protruding way off the runway. The voice in his headset had been yelling useless instructions as he skidded in. Jack hadn’t minded. The guy needed to feel as if he were doing something useful while he watched a near crash. Now the man in the tower was silent.
“What? Disappointed?” Jack asked as he gingerly turned the plane and headed to the tie-down areas. Being both alive and on the ground improved his mood.
“You took a fu—freaking year off my life, bast—buddy,” the voice responded. “I don’t know who you are, but next time you crash into an airport, do it somewhere else.”
“Well, you’re new here or you wouldn’t have Christmas duty. You’ll get used to me,” Jack reassured the flight controller.
“Don’t tell me this is your home field.”
“Yep, it is now.”
“Fu— nuts.”
“If I’m lucky,” Jack responded with a chuckle to what the guy really said, though not quite how he meant it.
“Right. In that case give me her name so I can call her and let her know how near death you came. Any woman worth her salt will take your head off for attempting that landing.”
“Not a chance, buddy. Thanks, by the way. The landing lights helped.”
The voice laughed. “Go away so I can lock up. This place is officially closed ’til the weather clears.”
Jack was already about done shutting down. “I’m gone. Just have to tie-down and then my tail lights are outta here.”
He kept the Jeep in the hanger with the battery on a charger, he was pretty sure it would start.
Time to go see if she was still his. That was a damn optimistic thought. Even if the woman was living next door he couldn’t expect anything.
The time he’d been gone had been more than seventeen months in terms of who he was. Coming back to her might have been his motivation in those moments when nothing else would do it but that didn’t make it her responsibility to take what he was now.
There were new lines on his face, more gray in his hair and fresh scars on his body. His soul had paid a price for victory. Being the victor didn’t make him the winner if he didn’t get the girl. Her wanting what was left of him was the gamble.
Coming from Ellora's Cave December 26, 2007.
Monday, September 24, 2007
Sunday, September 16, 2007
Ohhh, I wanna win a shiny!!!! um...thing!!!
Shamelessly pimping Night Owl Romance's - Fall N O R Awards because they put WANNA PLAY up for the Best Ebook Contemporary Erotica. So go VOTE!! for your favorites, or just me. LOL
http://pub48.bravenet.com/vote/vote.php?usernum=4115228275
I love the cool graphs that come up after you vote, you can see how your choices are doing. Also you can vote once per day and the voting ends October 31, 2007. Them are the rules. So go run-a-muck!!
http://pub48.bravenet.com/vote/vote.php?usernum=4115228275
I love the cool graphs that come up after you vote, you can see how your choices are doing. Also you can vote once per day and the voting ends October 31, 2007. Them are the rules. So go run-a-muck!!
Saturday, September 15, 2007
Something I liked...
I've been working this novel forever. Getting the words to flow and still convey the mood of a moment is often difficult. Here is something from AT ANY PRICE. I'm trying for dark frustration, a bit of confusion and male denial. If he can't control it, it must not exist.
Harsh control marked grim features as he flicked locks on old fashioned windows and swung them open to breathe the night. It was the predator’s hour, far past midnight but still a long way from dawn. This was his time.
The ground’s lights were muted as a low-lying mist glided across white-pebbled paths. Damp and dark, the night softened sharp angles of manicured order into nature’s abandon. A sliver moon peeked from heavy cloud cover, a perfect night for shadows that moved with more than a breeze, and not necessarily on a combat mission.
This night should be filled with soft moans and breathless whispers. A bolt of arousal shot down his gut to lodge low in his belly. Finally alone in the night, he didn’t want to fight the female hunger reaching for him with the writhing mist. She was molten need. He could all but feel supple flesh burn under his hands with the white hot pleasure of an angel sweeping his dark soul up to gaze on heaven’s gates.
What the fuck!? He’d never held an angel in his life and didn’t want to. A female who knew what to do with the type of aggression battle bred was his preference. And heavens gates were nowhere near the neighborhood he took her to.
Uncanny knowledge of which way an enemy would jump, night vision better than twenty/twenty and the heart of a predator had always been his. Natural abilities that edged on phenomenal were the weapons that made him a deadly opponent. But those abilities had never brought him the type of awareness he was feeling now.
Trusting his instincts had kept him and his men alive. This was the first time he’d questioned them.
Outside a breeze picked up, pushing the mist into swirling agitation and he felt her, the essence of a woman. He knew her the same way he’d often known there was an enemy unit in a place it shouldn’t be. Instinctive, deep in his bones was knowledge he couldn’t explain but had never been wrong. With her it was more. He felt more. She was needy tonight. Her body ached in frustration and she moaned as she threw off covers. Unable to sleep, she was… NO!
There was no female slipping in and out of his soul. The hard evidence that his body disagreed with him throbbed between his legs. Alex stretched, flexing layers of tense muscle to deny the sudden sensation of gentle hands sliding down his taut body. A scent drifted on the air but he chose to consign it to the night blooming jasmine far below. There were no soft sighs fading into shadows.
Men did not go into heat. Whatever his problem was, it would pass. It had to be a reaction to the way these titled women had lost there minds in the effort make their daughters a queen. And Time Magazine had called him the savage royal. Amazing.
Harsh control marked grim features as he flicked locks on old fashioned windows and swung them open to breathe the night. It was the predator’s hour, far past midnight but still a long way from dawn. This was his time.
The ground’s lights were muted as a low-lying mist glided across white-pebbled paths. Damp and dark, the night softened sharp angles of manicured order into nature’s abandon. A sliver moon peeked from heavy cloud cover, a perfect night for shadows that moved with more than a breeze, and not necessarily on a combat mission.
This night should be filled with soft moans and breathless whispers. A bolt of arousal shot down his gut to lodge low in his belly. Finally alone in the night, he didn’t want to fight the female hunger reaching for him with the writhing mist. She was molten need. He could all but feel supple flesh burn under his hands with the white hot pleasure of an angel sweeping his dark soul up to gaze on heaven’s gates.
What the fuck!? He’d never held an angel in his life and didn’t want to. A female who knew what to do with the type of aggression battle bred was his preference. And heavens gates were nowhere near the neighborhood he took her to.
Uncanny knowledge of which way an enemy would jump, night vision better than twenty/twenty and the heart of a predator had always been his. Natural abilities that edged on phenomenal were the weapons that made him a deadly opponent. But those abilities had never brought him the type of awareness he was feeling now.
Trusting his instincts had kept him and his men alive. This was the first time he’d questioned them.
Outside a breeze picked up, pushing the mist into swirling agitation and he felt her, the essence of a woman. He knew her the same way he’d often known there was an enemy unit in a place it shouldn’t be. Instinctive, deep in his bones was knowledge he couldn’t explain but had never been wrong. With her it was more. He felt more. She was needy tonight. Her body ached in frustration and she moaned as she threw off covers. Unable to sleep, she was… NO!
There was no female slipping in and out of his soul. The hard evidence that his body disagreed with him throbbed between his legs. Alex stretched, flexing layers of tense muscle to deny the sudden sensation of gentle hands sliding down his taut body. A scent drifted on the air but he chose to consign it to the night blooming jasmine far below. There were no soft sighs fading into shadows.
Men did not go into heat. Whatever his problem was, it would pass. It had to be a reaction to the way these titled women had lost there minds in the effort make their daughters a queen. And Time Magazine had called him the savage royal. Amazing.
Friday, September 14, 2007
What would I want?
I was looking at the piles of books in my house and considering what the heck to do with them. There are many options when giving away books, but hey, these are BOOKS. Ya know. Something about them is important, especially to an author. They should go where people are hungry for books. I came up with the ladies in the armed forces.
Took me two minutes to find how to send packages to soldiers and even a site where they list what they need. www.anysoldier.com Be careful if you go over there, you'll probably have to cry a little/a lot. But anyway, I figure if someone lists books in their request it's a pretty safe place to send my babies, um...books.
Had to dash down to WallyWorld and get some other things after reading several requests. Apparently Kool Aid is popular (so easy to send) and now they have it in individual packets that can be poured into a water bottle! Love it. The girls in fatigues also need girlie things, had to get some of those. Of course, gotta send Little Debbie oatmeal cookies. We're talking comfort snacks here and besides they go so good while reading a naughty book some author sent ya.
So just a suggestion. Think of the ladies in our armed forces when giving away your books. There is information how to send your package at the site listed above.
Took me two minutes to find how to send packages to soldiers and even a site where they list what they need. www.anysoldier.com Be careful if you go over there, you'll probably have to cry a little/a lot. But anyway, I figure if someone lists books in their request it's a pretty safe place to send my babies, um...books.
Had to dash down to WallyWorld and get some other things after reading several requests. Apparently Kool Aid is popular (so easy to send) and now they have it in individual packets that can be poured into a water bottle! Love it. The girls in fatigues also need girlie things, had to get some of those. Of course, gotta send Little Debbie oatmeal cookies. We're talking comfort snacks here and besides they go so good while reading a naughty book some author sent ya.
So just a suggestion. Think of the ladies in our armed forces when giving away your books. There is information how to send your package at the site listed above.
Thursday, September 13, 2007
Pet Pev. What's yours?
Long winded comments while blogging is irritating.
When a topic is hot and the comments number runs above 30, do not write essay length responses. It's boring and I know I skim or totally jump a comment that is lengthy.
Blogland needs a "reviewer" of blog comments. If they would score them with stars or something everyone would know of its worth reading the next long winded comment.
So that's my current pet pev. You got an interesting one? An irrelevant one? A silly one? I need to be assured I'm not the only crazy person, share your Pev.
When a topic is hot and the comments number runs above 30, do not write essay length responses. It's boring and I know I skim or totally jump a comment that is lengthy.
Blogland needs a "reviewer" of blog comments. If they would score them with stars or something everyone would know of its worth reading the next long winded comment.
So that's my current pet pev. You got an interesting one? An irrelevant one? A silly one? I need to be assured I'm not the only crazy person, share your Pev.
Friday, September 7, 2007
Friday already
It's been one of those weeks. Friday comes as a surprise because it doesn't feel like I got enough done. Not enough writing. Not enough of the other stuff I do to make a living and not enough house work.
I confess I am a piler. That means I put things down in piles all over the place. I intend to put them "away" but not right now. This is bad. What's worse is I live with a packrat-piler. Not only does he pile, he wants to keep everything. You can see how quickly this can get out of hand.
I love the look of clean surfaces. Bare spaces. Minimalist decor. I can't seem to manage it for more than five minutes. I must not love it enough. Not more than the manuscript I'm in a hurry to get back to. That's for sure.
I tell myself a maid would be nice. But honestly, a maid can not put away the piles of papers. The stacks of stuff that is to important to throw away. The poor dear would have to vacuum and dust around them. That would not be the help I need.
What I need is ruthless organization. Does anyone do that as a weekly service? LOL
I confess I am a piler. That means I put things down in piles all over the place. I intend to put them "away" but not right now. This is bad. What's worse is I live with a packrat-piler. Not only does he pile, he wants to keep everything. You can see how quickly this can get out of hand.
I love the look of clean surfaces. Bare spaces. Minimalist decor. I can't seem to manage it for more than five minutes. I must not love it enough. Not more than the manuscript I'm in a hurry to get back to. That's for sure.
I tell myself a maid would be nice. But honestly, a maid can not put away the piles of papers. The stacks of stuff that is to important to throw away. The poor dear would have to vacuum and dust around them. That would not be the help I need.
What I need is ruthless organization. Does anyone do that as a weekly service? LOL
Wednesday, September 5, 2007
What did you expect??
There has been a lot of blog-talk about how dumb authors are. How as a group we're not good business people. We have poor judgement when reading a contract. We are clueless on how a publishing company should be run. Our public relations skills stink and we are hopeless when it comes to legal issues.
Authors live in fantasy land!! How does being imaginative prepare a person for Business, Economics, Legal double talk, and Slick Spin-Control?
If we were good at all the other stuff we probably wouldn't write and expect to make a living. Coz that's just crazy talk!
DISCLAIMER- There are some among us who are straight-up wizards at all those things and wonderful authors as well. Just saying its not the norm.
WELL - DA!!!!
Authors live in fantasy land!! How does being imaginative prepare a person for Business, Economics, Legal double talk, and Slick Spin-Control?
If we were good at all the other stuff we probably wouldn't write and expect to make a living. Coz that's just crazy talk!
DISCLAIMER- There are some among us who are straight-up wizards at all those things and wonderful authors as well. Just saying its not the norm.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)