Entries Tagged 'Guest Blogger' ↓
March 18th, 2010 — About, Guest Blogger
by Jennifer Roland, guest blogger
It is no secret that we women--and some men--love our romances. As was discussed at great length in the news media earlier this year, the romance genre has been one of the few segments of the economy to thrive in the recession. Even when we are not doing well financially, we long for the escape that our love stories bring us, whether we prefer heroes who are not quite human, settings that are long past or barely dreamed of, or heat levels that would make our mothers blush.
But are they good for us? Do they further the cause of women, or do they hold us back, trapping us in traditional gender roles?
A few other bloggers have talked about the economic empowerment the romance genre offers to women, the inherent subversiveness of a genre written and read almost entirely by women, and the power romances give women over their sexuality. Rather than rehashing what these other ladies have said, I’d rather look at the stories. Does the romance narrative harm women?
For years, I believed it did. I saw romance novels as a tool of women’s subjugation. We read books that reinforced the roles society had laid out for us: wife, mother, caregiver. Romance novels have one ending: the woman finds her man, the man who will marry her and give her the security and the family she craves. Until she reaches that goal of finding a husband, our heroine is incomplete. I believed that I was more than my marital status, so why would I want to read about women who were made whole only through the object of their affection?
Then I actually read some romance novels, beyond the category romances I read as a young girl. I found a genre that had grown up without me realizing it. I encountered strong women who were whole and who didn’t need a man to complete them. Instead, they wanted a partner to share the burdens and the joys of life. Some of the stories ended with a marriage. Some ended with a commitment to raise a family together. Others ended with the knowledge that two people were entering into a relationship of equals, merging their individual lives to create something more together. Neither the hero nor the heroine quit being who they were; they simply chose to be those people together. In short, I found feminism.
Romance novels allow us to explore the myriad options available in our society. They cover different lifestyles, sexual acts, and time periods. They explore the different paths a woman’s life can take as she maneuvers through the worlds of career and family, whether her family is the heteronormative husband and wife, a committed same-sex relationship, or even a triad or other polyamorous grouping. But most important, they use the woman’s voice to explore the classic themes of literature that have in the past been explored only through a male lens. And they allow us to experience a situation that has a happy ending, something we don’t always get in our everyday lives.
That is why I love romance novels.
Jennifer Roland is a freelance writer and aspiring romance novelist. She fancies herself a new school feminist who adores a sexy vampire or shapeshifter tale, yes, alpha male and all. Keep up with her progress navigating the scary world of publishing on her blog, Jen’s Writing Journey.
Originally posted 2009-07-15 03:33:12. Republished by Blog Post Promoter
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March 7th, 2010 — Contemporary, Guest Blogger, M-O, Survival
by Libby Malin, guest blogger
In my novel, FIRE ME
, the heroine Anne Wyatt embarks on a crazy adventure-trying to earn her boss' negative attention so that he'll choose her for the employee lay-off he has scheduled by the end of the day. Although she'd planned to hand in her resignation anyway, she decides the severance package attached to the lay-off is just too sweet to resist. In a day devoted to outrageous stunts, she learns a lot about herself, her choices in life and in love.
Survival for Anne during this loony day means just the opposite - getting kicked off the team. So she has to turn every good-girl instinct on its head, and ask herself: what is the opposite of what I'd normally do?
If she'd normally think twice about using the boss' expense account for pricey treats for the staff, she now has to let herself go on a spending spree with his money.
If she'd normally be careful what information she let get out to eager reporters, she now has to abandon her scruples and reveal company "secrets" (that aren't even real!).
If she'd normally take time and effort meticulously preparing the employee newsletter, she now has to allow herself to let embarrassing mistakes slip in that poke fun at the boss.
Oh, and if she'd normally sit still like a schoolgirl in her cubicle, she now has to shed her inhibitions and dance and sing up a storm!
The list goes on and on as she looks for more creative-and more attention-grabbing-activities to pull her boss' negative vibes her way.
As I wrote Anne's antics, I had a heckuva good time imagining what I would do (if I'd ever have the courage, that is) to bollix up work assignments so badly I'd know my boss would want to let me go. I think Anne's story taps into fantasies we've all had at one time or another when stuck in a job we don't care for or working for a boss who's less than...kind.
On a more serious note, though, if I were really doling out survival advice to women in the workplace, I'd have to say beware of office romance! Anne doesn't manage to skate past this one, but she does have mixed results, seizing one opportunity she should have let pass and nearly missing another she should have snatched up.
Although Anne's adventures have her deliberately acting a bit on the zany side, most contemporary heroines and real-life professionals would also want to maintain a business-like posture in the office, not resorting to silly pranks. I think this is especially important for women who, unfortunately, still struggle to be valued equally in some workplaces. Sad but true.
So if I were giving real-life advice to women in the workplace, it would be: take yourself seriously and expect others to do the same. Even Anne takes her job of trying to get fired seriously, applying all her skills, talents, and resources to the task!
For more about FIRE ME and my other books, check out my website at www.LibbysBooks.com
Originally posted 2009-05-01 05:38:48. Republished by Blog Post Promoter
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March 4th, 2010 — Arranged/Forced Marriage, Contemporary, D-F, Guest Blogger, Marriage of Convenience
by Mary Margret Daughtridge, guest blogger and author of SEALed with a Ring
Marriages of convenience—romance fans love ’em, but when I tell people who aren’t romance readers that SEALed with a Ring: Sometimes you get a lot more than you bargained for is a contemporary romance with a marriage of convenience plot, you’d be surprised how many ask, “What’s a marriage of convenience?”
Next thing you know, I’m explaining marriage plots. You have arranged marriage in which choice of spouse is dictated by parents. Hero or heroine acquiesces, more or less gracefully. Forced marriage is one in which one or both is trapped into marriage against their will. And finally there’s marriage of convenience where one party has a need to marry (that has little or nothing to do with love) and the other agrees—usually for financial gain.
All have built in conflict. All are beloved staples of the romance genre.
With women’s enfranchisement, all have become hard to pull off in a contemporary—a reason, I think, that these days you’ll find three or four times as many historicals as contemporaries.
Although in some cultures arranged marriage is still the norm, in the West the expectation is that people marry because they fall in love. Period. It’s hard to get a plot out of that.
Forced marriage (happily) has also gone by the wayside in mainstream society. No one thinks a marriage to save a reputation or because of unplanned pregnancy is anything but a terrible idea. Marrying a girl too young, or unable, to consent is a crime.
That only leaves marriage of convenience. Once it was perfectly acceptable as long as it was aboveboard and a fair exchange. No more. I suspect many marriages today are quid pro quo contracts (witness the rise of the pre-nup) but who’s going to admit it? Marrying for money is thought “crass,” and being married for one’s money is the mark of a loser.
It’s not easy...
But I love marriage of convenience plots and I refuse to give them up. Character-driven writer that I am, I realized the difficulty of motivating a loveless marriage in a contemporary setting could play to my advantage. A person’s reasons (good or bad) for going against society’s expectations reveal a lot about character.
For the M of C plot to succeed, hero or heroine must be motivated by altruism. From the beginning they are sympathetic characters, invested with a degree of nobility. Since their goal is larger than they are, I have more latitude to make them multi-dimensional, strong yet flawed, without losing the reader’s sympathy.
It feels like love...
I also like to explore relationships—I think most women do. Unblinded by love, the M of C characters confront the details of living together and meeting the world as a unit. They consciously assess the other’s strengths, learn to read emotions, see beneath the surface. Again, a boon to the writer of character-driven contemporaries. When the two finally fall in love, the reader was there for every step. It really feels like love.
And it’s magic...
Best of all, an M of C plot (where they don’t pretend, they really get married) has inherent alchemical magic. For better or worse, marriage changes people.
Sharing is no longer optional. One’s destiny is irrevocably tied to the consequences of another person’s good judgment and luck—or lack thereof. And suddenly, there’s little real choice about how and with whom to spend holidays. Sublime or silly, sharing can be soul shaking. For the writer, it’s another chance to delve into character. For the reader, it’s fun. The plot can take a twist at any moment.
I liked putting a contemporary spin on an old plot so much, I think I’ll do it again sometime.
How about it? Do you love M of C? What is the appeal? If M of C isn’t your fave, what is? Cinderella? Secret Baby? Reunion?
SEALed WITH A RING BY MARY MARGRET DAUGHTRIDGE—IN STORES MARCH 2010
She’s got it all…except the one thing she needs most
Smart, successful businesswoman JJ Caruthers has a year to land a husband or lose the empire she’s worked so hard to build. With time running out, romance is not an option, and a military husband who is always on the road begins to look like the perfect solution…
He’s a wounded hero with an agenda of his own
Even with the scars of battle, Navy SEAL medic Davy Graziano is gorgeous enough to land any woman he wants, and he’s never wanted to be tied down. Now Davy has ulterior motives for accepting JJ’s outrageous proposal of marriage, but he only has so long to figure out what JJ doesn’t want him to know…
Buy: SEALed with a Ring
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Mary Margret Daughtridge has been a grade school teacher, speech therapist, family educator, biofeedback therapist, and Transpersonal Hypnotherapist. She is a member of Heart of Carolina Romance Writers, Romance Writers of America, and Romancing the Military Soul, and is a sought-after judge in writing contests. She resides in Greensboro, North Carolina. For more information, please visit http://marymargretdaughtridge.com/.
Giveaway: Sourcebooks is offering up 2 copies of SEALed with a Ring. That means two winners! Yay! Open to US and Canadian readers only. To enter answer Mary Margret's question about marriage of convenience plots. One entry per relevant comment; multiple entries allowed. Ends: March 11, 2010.
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February 25th, 2010 — D-F, Guest Blogger, Merman/Mermaid
by Judi Fennell, guest blogger
Back in 2004 when I joined Romance Writers of America, I had one manuscript (in sore need of craft workshops!) and the dream.
I had nothing else. Not a clue how to do this, not another story idea, no industry knowledge. Nothing. How could I ever expect to get a book published - especially once I got my first contest entry back and saw that I needed a lot of help.
Enter the characters who won't shut up.
And thank God for them. First it was the gypsy who showed up in a re-write of that first story. Then it was Cinda Bella, obviously a Cinderella character but modernized for today's world. Then it was Bella from Beauty and The Best.
And then there was Reel. And Erica. And Chum. And Puffer and Vincent and Chipper and Angel and Harry and the rest of the cast of In Over Her Head. Once those floodgates opened, there was no damming them back up.
In Over Her Head is my debut novel and the easiest story I've ever written - all because of the characters who won't shut up! Even now, as I do the edits on the third book in this Mer series, the characters are all chatting in my head.
Sounds crazy, right?
Crazy keeps me writing. These characters wake me up in the middle of the night. They have parties at 5 am, each one trying to shout the other down. It's insane. I have learned to keep a notebook next to my bed so I can jot down what they're saying - don't want to lose it because they can get a bit stubborn about sharing it with me again. "Not important enough to write down when I'm saying it? Then I'm not going to repeat it."
There's a reason writers call their stories their babies - sometimes they start to act like grouchy teens!
But I love each of them, even the villains. They've given me a lot to work with in the stories and I've been blessed to hear from readers that they love the characters.
Many people have emailed me that they love Reel, laughed at Chum, identified with Erica, but the email I received today was a first.
The reader loved my bubble gum-chewing pelican, Amelia. Amelia only shows up for a bit, but she plays a big part, and the bubble gum just sort of came along with her.
So if you've read In Over Her Head, who's your favorite character? Besides Erica and Reel, who would you most like to hang with? I'd love to know. If you haven't had the chance to read it, please email me once you do (Go to my website for my contact info!).
The characters who won't shut up are taking bets as we speak.
And while you're on my website, (www.JudiFennell.com ) feel free to register to win one of three romantic beach getaway weekends. The Atlantis Inn Bed & Breakfast in Ocean City, NJ (www.AtlantisInn.com) and the Hibiscus House B&B in West Palm Beach Florida, (www.HibiscusHouse.com) have come on board to offer these weekends to celebrate the release of each of the Mer series books.
And the winners can keep an eye out for sexy mermen, or talking fish or even the occasional gum-chewing pelican... Here's an excerpt from In Over Her Head:
Amelia, Ernie's wife, popped by instead, floundering to a pelican's lumbering landing just as they hit the beach.
"Heya, Reel. You are one lucky S-O-M." Amelia was munching on that chewy substance Humans were so fond of. It stuck to everything and they stuck it to everything: the underside of docks, boat hulls, every piece of their refuse. He could always hear her coming from a mile away.
"What's the scoop, Amelia?"
Erica groaned behind him. "Amelia? As in Earhart? Who's next? Captain Nemo?"
"Sorry, chicky, but Nemo's in the Pacific these days. He and Ern had a falling out." Amelia blew a pink solid bubble with that stuff.
That always freaked him out. Bubbles. Solid. Out of water. Pink. Odd, just odd.
"So, what's happening in my luck department, Ame? Krak still chasing the herring?"
The bubble popped all over her beak and she made the mistake of trying to remove it with her wings. Several gooey, fowl-mouthed comments later, the pelican was spun in a web of her own making.
"Oh, for pete's sake!" Erica approached the squawking bird, plunked her cute backside in the sand and started picking the pink gunk off Amelia.
"Thanks, doll," Amelia said when her beak was untied. "I guess I oughta lay off that. If you could do that big feather on the bottom... yeah, that one. It's bending back and pinching a bit... yeah, that's it." The pelican sighed. "So, where was I?"
"About to tell me if we're heading into a trap? You know, just a tiny portion of info that could determine whether we live or die? Nothing too important, Ame," Reel answered.
"Yeah, yeah, keep your scales on-wait. You don't have scales. My bad."
"We're wasting time, Ame. So, did Krak take the bait? Or did his two brain cells rub together enough to generate a spark of intelligence?"
Amelia stretched a freed wing out to its full three-foot width. "I said you're a lucky S-O-M and I meant it. The big, dumb oaf is probably halfway to the Falklands by now."
"Good." Reel pulled Erica to her feet. "Come on, sweetheart, we've got to get moving."
Now more about winning that copy of In Over Her Head
. To enter, leave a relevant comment below about Mers, characters that don't shut up, or ask Judi a question! The winner will be drawn Friday, June 5th, 2009. Open to USA and Canada.
Originally posted 2009-06-03 03:03:19. Republished by Blog Post Promoter
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February 22nd, 2010 — Contemporary, D-F, Fantasy, Guest Blogger, Merman/Mermaid, Seas, Writing Tips
by Judi Fennell, guest blogger and author of Catch of a Lifetime.
Thanks so much for having me again! The third book in my Mer series, Catch of a Lifetime, came out this month, and once again, the puns are out in full force.
The sea-isms were a really fun part of writing this series, and I'd never realized how many sea sayings we use in our everyday language. It made coming up with the sea-based version of the sayings easier.
I hadn't actually started out to include things like that, but when Reel, the hero of book one, In Over Her Head, was talking to his sidekick Chum, a suckerless remora fish, well, I couldn’t help but go down that alley. Chum? For a fish? It just made me laugh.
Then Reel mentions he has a twin brother named Rod, and that was pretty much it. Every sea-themed pun I could come up with decided to end up in the stories.
I'd never realized how many "sea-isms" we actually use in everyday English. Or how much fun it'd be to poke fun at our use and make it seem normal to Mers. But I'm finding that they come really easy to me - and to my readers. I will admit to taking notes on some of the funnier ones people send me, and plan to use them in Mariana's and Pearl's stories (that I'll, hopefully have the chance to write!).
I've been asked about how and why I play with the puns and clichés, because all pre-published authors are told over and over not to use clichés. I know, I was told that, too. But the thing is, if you put your own twist on anything - and other people "get" it - you can pretty much do what you want. That's held true for me with the clichés and groan-worthy puns.
But those puns are also in keeping with how my Mers think. They're not going to say, "Go fly a kite" to someone who's annoyed them. They might, however, tell that person to go toss a skate (skates are like sting rays). It's their frame of reference, much as our American slang is completely incomprehensible to someone learning to speak our language. I mean, if you're a non-native speaker and are translating something as commonplace as "take a hike," you're going to wonder where and HOW to take a hike somewhere? Do you carry it? Put it in a box? A hike is an intangible object.
When creating a world, a writer has to immerse herself in it and see it as the beings in that world do, and then build that world from the inside out. What's going to be commonplace to those inhabitants--and, conversely, what's going to seem odd for a newcomer to that world? Hence, the term "shell-fillers" for breasts. Some readers have liked that term, others notsomuch. But think of the quintessential images of mermaids: they're either bare breasted or have seashells lashed across their breasts. Shell-fillers. It's their frame of reference. Of course, since readers' frames of reference don't include that term, I have the Mers make the jump to the Human reference pretty quickly so I don't lose the reader. But that's also to illustrate the Mers' understanding of that new world.
So how do I come up with these sayings? I honestly don't know other than to say, I try to think like my characters. I try to see things the way they would and put it out there for the readers so they can see it that way, too.
Here's a bit from Catch of a Lifetime with Angel, the mermaid, chatting with Ginger, a flamingo. Two beings of two different worlds interacting in a Human one and having some fun of their own playing with language:
“Ginger?” Great. Just what Angel needed. The laziest and most opportunistic flamingo in the Eastern Hemisphere had just glommed onto her case study. And as for Ginger keeping a secret? Not so much. “What are you doing here? I thought birds of a feather flocked together and all that.”
“Those Orlando chicks are too cliquey. Sometimes it’s nice to be the only flamingo around.” Ginger twirled her black-tipped beak, striking a pose that was ineffectual on females and downright ridiculous for anyone. Even a flamingo. To add insult to injury, the bird looked down from the back corner of her eyes. “So, what do you say? Prawns for silence?”
Angel tossed a swath of hair over her shoulder—so hard to get used to it hanging against her body instead of floating around her like kelp on a current. “I say that blackmail is a filthy practice, and if you’re going to try it, you should first have a clean background. I know what you’re doing with Roger, by the way. I think everyone except his mate does.”
That took the stuffing out of the bird. Ginger deflated back to normal size and quickly set her plumage to rights. “Fine. You don’t have to get snippy about it. I just wanted some prawns. Humans have taken all the good ones around here and I’m not a big fan of fish fry. It gets boring after a while.”
“I know all about Human fishing practices, Ginger, among other things. That’s why I’m here, and I’d appreciate if you’d keep quiet so I have the chance to make a difference.”
“You don’t want your brother to find out, do you?”
“I’d prefer if he didn’t, but I’m a grown Mer. I’m allowed to live my life. If he does, I’ll deal with it. But until then, I’m going to try to accomplish something.”
“Oh? Is that what they’re calling it these days?” The flamingo clacked her beak. “I accomplished something just last night.”
© Judi Fennell, Sourcebooks Casablanca, 2010
Buy: Catch of a Lifetime
I'm working on my new series which hits the shelves next year, about genies, and I'm finding that there aren't nearly as many clichés or sayings that I can twist as there are in an undersea world, but the ones I'm coming up with are fun. But, hey, I'm more than ready to take notes on any you want to shout out. So think magic carpets, genies, talking cats and magic. And let you imagination take flight! (Okay, I'm calling that one…)
Any more?
CATCH OF A LIFETIME BY JUDI FENNELL—IN STORES FEBRUARY 2010!
She’s on a mission to save the planet…
Mermaid Angel Tritone has been researching humans from afar, hoping to find a way to convince them to stop polluting.
When she jumps into a boat to escape a shark attack, it’s her chance to pursue her mission, but she has to keep her identity a total secret…
When he finds out what she really is, they’re both in mortal danger…
For Logan Hardington, finding a beautiful woman on his boat is surely not a problem—until he discovers she’s a mermaid, and suddenly his life is on the line…
The third novel in Judi Fennell's mermaid series, a fresh, exciting, and different entry in romance fiction!
Buy: Catch of a Lifetime
About the Author
Judi Fennell is an award-winning author. Her romance novels have been finalists in Gather.com's First Chapters and First Chapters Romance contests, as well as the third American Title contest. She spends family vacations at the Jersey Shore, the setting for some of her paranormal romance series. She lives in suburban Philadelphia, PA. For More information, and a chance to win a romantic ocean getaway, visit www.judifennell.com.
Giveaway: Judi and Sourcebooks are giving away 2 copies of Catch of a Lifetime. That means 2 winners! Open to US and Canada readers only. To enter share your Arabian and genie themed puns, clichés, or sayings. One entry per relevant comment; multiple entries allowed. Ends: February 28, 2010. Good luck! (Extended to March 10, 2010).
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February 19th, 2010 — Contemporary, Guest Blogger, J-L
by Robin Kaye, guest blogger
10. Domestic Gods know how to separate laundry, and are man enough to buy and care for fine washables.
9. Domestic Gods like more power...in their women, their cars, their vacuums, and their household cleaners.
8. Domestic Gods do manly things, like lift the couch with one hand to vacuum under it.
7. Domestic Gods don't question their sexuality: being a good cook and knowing how to clean doesn't make them effeminate. It makes them independent.
6. A Domestic God knows the way to a woman's heart is to show he's capable of killing bugs, scrubbing toilets, washing windows, keeping her well fed and well satisfied in bed.
5. A Domestic God knows there's nothing sexier than a man cleaning the bathtub for the woman in his life and then joining her in it.
4. Domestic Gods don't expect their women to be maids unless said women are into playing dress-up. Then, they prefer the French variety--feather duster included.
3. Domestic Gods can fix your car and fix you a five-course meal.
2. Domestic Gods not only respect women, they care for and about them.
And the number one reason women love Domestic Gods is...
Domestic Gods are as good in the kitchen as they are in the bedroom.
Most women I know ask me if Domestic Gods are a figment of my imagination or if they are real. I am here to attest to the fact that yes, Domestic Gods do exist. I know this because I'm lucky enough to be awakened every morning to my very own DG's kiss and a really good cup of coffee.
Let me tell you ladies, a lot can be forgiven when you awake to a good cup of coffee in bed and a kiss every day of the week. And since we live in the real world, it's a good thing because no matter how wonderful a real Domestic God is, he's still a man.
Dr. Mike Flynn, the Domestic God in Too Hot to Handle is nearly perfect. Of course, he's also fictional. Mike is the type of guy who cleans out the refrigerator in the doctor's lounge at the hospital, giving everything questionable the sniff test, washing the coffee cups left lying around, and wiping down the counters. Of course, everyone teases him about it, but Mike takes it all in stride.
In Too Hot to Handle, when Annabelle falls and rips a few ligaments in her ankle, he not only carries her to X-ray and diagnoses it, but he takes her home, cleans her apartment, cooks a hot meal and gives her plenty of TLC. When Mike and Annabelle go away for a long weekend on Westhampton Beach; Mike's the one who plans the meals, fills the cooler and barbecues-among other things.
The thing I love most about Domestic Gods is that no matter how great they are, they're men who are continuously stumped by the women in their lives. Still, they clean to relieve the stress that the rocky road to loves causes. I find chocolate to be the perfect stress reliever, but I'm glad it's not my DG's stress reliever of choice. I don't know about you, but a gorgeous Domestic God cleaning his way through the stresses of everyday life totally works for me.
This giveaway is for 1 copy of Too Hot to Handle and is open to US and Canadian readers. If you would like to be entered for a chance to win please leave a comment below. You'll receive two entries if you leave a comment detailing a special Domestic God moment that was performed by your honey or provide another reason to love Domestic Gods. The winner will be announced Sunday, May 10, 2009.
Originally posted 2009-05-07 05:05:14. Republished by Blog Post Promoter
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February 19th, 2010 — Book Intro, Contemporary, Erotica, Guest Blogger, LGBT, S-U
by Jeanne St. James, erotic romance writer.
I love the romance genre. I should. I write it. Well, to be more exact, I have published two erotic romances: Banged Up, a m/f erotic romance, with Liquid Silver Books, and Double Dare, a m/m/f interracial ménage, with Loose Id. In addition, I have published a gay erotic novella. I’ll repeat that again… an erotic novella. I did not mention romance.
When Phaze Books had a special call for submissions for their “rebel”-themed Heatsheets (short stories), the only requirement was that it be about a “rebel” and it be short. So I decided to write my first strictly gay novella and decided to keep it short by using one scene – one interaction between the two characters – for the story. So the story (one night in the two men’s lives) involves them going back to a school reunion and exploring (sexually) the secret crush they both had on each other back in high school.
Rip Cord’s Blurb:
Gil Davis hated high school. Ever the geek, he has no intention of attending his 10th year class reunion. The last thing he wants is to relive the taunting and teasing he received during his teenage years. However, there is one thing he missed from high school: the star Varsity football player. The one he had a crush on since the first day he laid his eyes on him.
The last thing he expects is the now pro football player to come back to their home town to attend a lame high school reunion. Known as the Bad Boy of the NFL, Ripley “Rip” Cord, not only shows up, but shows up without a date and an eye for Gil.
Since the novella is only about 12,000 words, I was limited on plot. I wanted to use an already established relationship – Gil and Rip being classmates – in which the two discover a hidden attraction – a secret crush. That allowed me to throw them into the story a lot quicker.
So, my point is… I’ve been getting mixed reviews on Rip Cord. People either love it (5 star) and want a sequel or say it’s so-so (2 star). Why? Well, I’m guessing it’s because someone is reading it thinking it’s an erotic romance. It’s not. The difference for me between erotica and erotic romance is the ending. The ending on Rip Cord is not HEA (Happily Ever After) like my erotic romances. This little story has a HFN ending (Happy For Now) that means things were left up in the air at the end. The men had plans to meet up again in the future, it’s just not known where or when. Of course, they are both “satisfied” sexually during the book but there isn’t a complete emotional connection. No “we’re getting married” or “we’re having a baby,” for example, like a typical romance.
Because of that, I do not consider Rip Cord an erotic romance. That’s why I label it erotica or an erotic novella. Two men thrown together having hot, steamy man love and then each go on their way -- at least at the end of THIS story. It doesn’t mean they won’t hook up again or eventually achieve that HEA.
Here’s a review in which the reviewer “got” what kind of story it was:
From Seriously Reviewed:
"Well, I sat down to read and burned dinner! I couldn’t stop reading. The story is fast. Gil attends his high school reunion. And we all remember how enjoyable that is…not. But with a hot jock like Rip, at least he’ll have someone to stare at during dinner. But wait. This is hot gay erotic romance. So when boy sees hot football star, boy lusts for football star, and holy shit, the football star has game of his own. The sex was raw and brazen, the dialog refreshingly natural and the ending pleasantly simple and satisfying."
Now, she considered this HFN ending satisfying. Someone looking for a HEA might not. So what makes a book a romance? My opinion (and this is only my opinion) is the HEA ending. But rest assured, both the HFN and HEA story can be a pleasurable read. What’s YOUR opinion?
EXCERPT FROM RIP CORD:
CHAPTER ONE
Gil Davis couldn’t believe it had been ten years since he’d last walked through these doors. Where had the time gone?
When the invitation to his class reunion had come, he almost tossed it out, just as he had with the notice of his fifth year reunion.
He was not into reliving his high school years.
No way, no how.
But something on the invitation had caught his eye… this time they were holding it at the school. So instead of immediately pitching it, he had thrown the invitation on his kitchen table. Unfortunately, Katie, his best friend and roommate, found it and hounded him relentlessly until he agreed to RSVP.
And, of course, Katie insisted on being his date.
Which thrilled him to no end… Not.
Now he wasn’t so sure if he wanted to go in.
He wasn’t sure he was ready for a night of teasing from his former schoolmates.
Yet, here he stood, just inside the double doors of his old high school staring at the registration table by the gymnasium doors.
Someone grabbed his elbow. Firmly.
“You’re not chickening out are you?”
Gil just shook his head and swallowed hard. “Did you find the restroom all right?”
“Fine,” Katie said in her little no-nonsense tone. “Let’s go.”
The harder she tugged on his arm, the more he dug in his heels. He didn’t want to leave his little corner of safety yet. “Hold on.”
“No, Gil. It’s not going to get any easier. You look fine. We’ve – okay, I’ve worked really hard to get you to this point.” She smoothed the hair back from his eyes. Gil was surprised she hadn’t spat on her fingers first like a hovering mother hen.
The problem was, he was still a nerd at heart.
“Now, get your shit together and let’s go!” She gave his arm one last hard yank and dragged him over to the table.
Sucking in a breath, he steeled himself for what was to come.
The two women sitting at the table wore big predatory smiles.
“Gilbert? Gilbert Davis is that you?” the toothy piranha on the right asked. “I swear I didn’t recognize you without your bottle-bottom glasses and pocket protector.”
Those glasses were long gone thanks to Katie dragging him years ago to the optometrist for contacts.
Gil leaned forward to read her name tag. Bonnie (Trusk) Smith.
Bonnie Trusk. He remembered her. She had been part of the Homecoming Court their senior year.
And had accidentally run over his foot one day in the parking lot with her Eddie Bauer Explorer. Why? Her excuse had been she hadn’t seen him. Yeah, he had been the invisible man, “invisible” to all of the popular kids.
“Just Gil,” he corrected her.
She laughed and waved a hand toward him, clearly dismissing him.
The other woman, Patti Petroski-Harrison, shoved a “Hello! My name is… Gilbert Davis” sticker at him. “And your hair! It looks…” Gil expected the next word out of her mouth to be “normal.” Her face showed her internal struggle. “Nice.”
He was a geek. He knew it. He had been one ever since he could remember. And his classmates had always teased him about it.
She sized up Katie. “Are you his wife?”
Katie laughed and patted Gil’s arm. “Oh, no.”
Gil gave her a quick warning look.
Katie just gave him a sugary smile and a noisy kiss on the cheek.
“Well then,” Patti said. “When you go through the doors, Gilbert, there will be a table with place settings. Find your name and that will tell you where you’re seated.”
“Just Gil,” he corrected again, but by then both women were flashing their beaming smiles at another couple who had come up behind them.
Katie tugged him to the side to avoid being crushed by the new arrivals’ hugging and squealing. Gil didn’t recognize the newcomers. But then they had probably been a part of the “in” group.
Gil had been a full-fledged member of the “out” group, but not the “out of the closet” group.
A woman’s shrill scream shot a bolt of pain through his head.
“Did you hear Rip Cord is going to be here? Can you believe it?” the one called Patti asked, her question ending in a squeal. She looked as if she would bust a vein.
Gil stumbled back a step from the table, barely avoiding Katie’s toes.
Holy hell, he never should have agreed to come to this thing. Especially if he’d known Rip would be here.
Gil had a crush on Rip since high school. Unfortunately, Rip was definitely of the heterosexual persuasion. Being captain of the football team, he’d had every girl in school chasing after him, one way or another.
So he’d admired the well-built, handsome jock from afar. Very afar.
Hearing Rip’s name brought all those old feelings back to the surface.
All the insecurities.
Gil certainly had never expected his secret crush to come back to town for a ten-year class reunion. Rip had become way too famous for that.
Gil grabbed Katie’s arm and, with her squeaky protest, dragged her through the double doors into the gym.
“Jesus, Gil. What’s going on?” she asked as he pushed her against the wall just inside the doors.
“Did you hear that?” He struggled not to hyperventilate.
“What?” Katie peeled the backing off of Gil’s name tag and slapped it onto his chest. Not so gently either.
“Rip is going to be here.”
“Rip?” She wrinkled her nose. “What the hell is rip?”
“Not what. Who!” Gil swallowed hard and blew out a long breath. He realized then he was squeezing her upper arms. Way too hard. He relaxed his fingers.
“Okay, okay. Calm down. And let up a little more please.”
He released her and wiped his sweaty palms along his slacks. He never should have worn slacks. Slacks were nerd-wear.
Why didn’t Katie talk him out of wearing them? He should have worn torn jeans or leather pants or --
“So is Rip a band? I would’ve thought they just would’ve hired a DJ. It’s cheaper.”
“Wait. What?” Gil shook his head. “First of all, why would they need music?”
Katie pointed a finger upwards. “Hear that, nerd-o? Music. You know, it creates atmosphere and gives you something to dance to.”
“Dance?” Gil swallowed hard. He cocked his head. He did hear music. He hadn’t noticed it because he’d been too panicked about Rip being there. “Okay, just don’t ask me to dance.”
“No can do, Gilly. We will be dancing. I didn’t come along to be a wallflower.”
“Katie, you know I can’t dance,” he hissed inches from her face.
She had the nerve to laugh. As if his lack of rhythm was something to laugh about. His coordination left something to be desired. Gil considered it a handicap – maybe not one recognized by the government. But no one should make fun of the handicapped!
Gil frowned. “I didn’t see anything on the invitation about dancing.”
Katie sighed. “Gilly, don’t worry, we’ll fake it.”
“Don’t call me Gilly here. It’s bad enough people will be calling me Gilbert.”
“Okay, Gil. So if Rip isn’t a band then who or what is it?”
A low murmur throughout the room behind him caused Gil to look up. Coming through the doors…
Gil pressed a hand to the wall to steady himself. His legs had suddenly lost all strength.
Coming through the doors was…
“Him,” was all Gil could get past the lump in his throat.
Buy link: http://tinyurl.com/phaze-ripcord
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February 18th, 2010 — About, Guest Blogger, J-L
by Pam Jenoff, guest blogger and author of Almost Home
.
After the publication of my first novel, The Kommandant's Girl
, I was thrilled to be invited to speak at a number of events, ranging from small book clubs and library gatherings to larger fundraisers. I gamely accepted every invitation, participating in well over 60 events. By the end of the year, I found myself exhilarated but also, well, a little burned out. I realized then that promoting oneself as an author is an important, but time consuming job of its own.
As an author, there is nothing I like better than meeting readers in-person. But these days, with two jobs and a baby at home, I’m much more selective as to the invitations I’m able to accept. I think for most authors, there is a cost-benefit analysis that goes deciding whether to participate in an event. So if you are planning one, the following are my brutally honest tips for maximizing your chances of getting an author to attend:
Ask about timing.
Consider the author’s schedule. For some authors that also have a day job, an evening appearance may be the only option. Does the author prefer an early evening in order to get home to put her kids to bed or a later evening to allow her time between work and the event to eat and regroup? For example, I get up to write at five a.m., so staying late at an event is often not feasible. Also, to the extent you have control over the date, consult early with the author about whether some days are better than others.
Keep it short.
Even if your book normally meets for two hours, understand if the author may only be able to stay for the first forty-five minutes or an hour, and start promptly. This will also give your group a chance to candidly discuss the book further after the author has left.
Consider location.
I am far more likely to be able to travel to an event that is fifteen minutes from my house than an hour and a half away. Perhaps offer to meet at a restaurant or coffee shop closer to the author’s residence. Of course for a remote author, phone or videoconferencing can be a great alternative.
Have food.
Shallow, perhaps, but true. I spent a lot of nights during my first year as an author choking down a salad in a supermarket parking lot because there was no other option for managing dinner between work and a book event. I was always so grateful for the hosts that had light appetizers or even dinner.
Think about group size.
While small, intimate gatherings are fun, it is almost always more beneficial for the author to have a slightly larger turnout. Consider merging with another book club or reading group for the night to ensure a good crowd.
Plan promotion.
Are you going to advertise the event? Have books for sale? If so, discuss these things with the author when extending an invitation. For most of us, writing is the way we make a living and we are usually thinking about how an event can support book sales. I am frequently asked by inviting groups if I have books to sell. I don’t, but I’m so grateful when the group can arrange with a book store or the publisher to have them on hand for people to buy. And I am always happy to promote an event I’m attending on my website and Facebook.
Contemplate contingencies.
I kept participating in book events almost until the day my son was born, and when I couldn’t attend due to early labor contractions, the group I had to postpone was very understanding. Another group however, expected me to travel in a dangerous ice storm rather than reschedule. Take unexpected events into account!
I hope these suggestions don’t sound demanding or petty; that couldn’t be further from what I intended. I love participating in book events and meeting readers and plan to keep doing so as much as my crazy schedule will allow. Hopefully armed with these insider tips, you will have a great deal of success in bringing authors to your future events. I welcome your comments (and invitations of course 
) here or through my website www.pamjenoff.com.
Buy: Almost Home
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February 17th, 2010 — Erotica, G-I, Guest Blogger, Paranormal, Supernatural
by Eliza Gayle, guest blogger and author of Lucas: A Black Cougar Novel
To be honest it was a fast and furious trip. Despite my love for reading and my early adventures in fanfic, (although I had no idea the fact I was writing sequels to Star Wars movies was called fanfic back then) I had not really given much thought to becoming a writer.
From the very beginning it’s been all about romance. I used to hide in the corner of the library devouring Rosemary Rogers as a pre teen and eventually wound my way to Nora Roberts. I’ve never been a reader of Horror of Science Fiction so it wasn’t until Sherrilyn Kenyon started writing the Dark Hunters that I realized paranormal romance was awesome. I fell in love with Valerius and that was it for me I was hooked. I sought out more books to read and I kept my library hopping for quite a while. Then two things happened that changed my life.
I picked up a copy of the Romantic Times magazine and I found Ellora’s Cave. My first EC book was by Lora Leigh and I swear my eyes were probably bugging out of my head. I kept turning to my husband with that OMG, deer in the headlights look. I even commented to him “They can write that? Wow!” Yes, I was truly oblivious to erotica until that moment. Somehow I’d made it into my thirties unaware. But I loved it and the wheels started turning. I wanted to write some but I didn’t have a clue even how to get started.
This is where the Romantic Times magazine comes into play. I came across the advertisement for the 2006 RT Convention in Daytona, Florida where they offered a pre-convention beginner’s writers course. That was only an hour away from my childhood home and my mother had been bugging me to come for a visit anyways so why not? I took that course with Judi McCoy who I will credit forever with starting me on this crazy path that I love so much. Her realistic approach to the business is awesome and I couldn’t recommend it more highly.
I returned from that trip in May of 06 and sat down and began writing a story about shapeshifters in the North Carolina mountains. I finished it in September and put it away. I needed some distance from it before I began edits and I had a short story idea I was dying to write. The short I finished in two weeks and sent it off to two publishers. The first rejection came and I sent it out again. The story sold a few weeks later and thus Eliza Gayle was born and it’s been crazy ever since.
That very first manuscript? Well, I poked it and prodded it here and there until in late 2008 I finally got serious with it. It needed a lot of work but I couldn’t let go of the premise. After a few name changes and a couple of other hurdles that book is now called Lucas and is my latest release and the first in the Black Cougar Trilogy.
Here is the blurb:
Lucas: A Black Cougar Novel
Kira MacDonald is in trouble. Plagued by false visions and erotic dreams of a man she’s never met, she fears losing both her psychic powers and her sanity. The cure? Finding and bonding with her mate. The stubborn red-haired warrior might not want one, but fate has other plans, plans that include her rescuing Lucas Gunn.
As the Guardian of his shape-shifting clan, Lucas Gunn lived a quiet, solitary life. Until he was kidnapped, examined, and tortured. Now imprisoned, his only tie to the outside world is the memory of his dreams and the passionate woman who appears nightly in them. He thought she was nothing more than a vision. Then she came for him.
An uneasy alliance, a mating call that won’t be denied, rituals that must be honored, and unrelenting enemies who will stop at nothing to get what they want. It all comes together in the first of Eliza Gayle’s sensational Black Cougar Series. Passion and Pride. Duty and Danger. In the end, there’s really only one choice…for Lucas.
The link to read an excerpt is http://elizagayle.net/books/lucas
Buy: Lucas: A Black Cougar Novel
Follow me on Twitter @elizagaylebooks
Or on Facebook http://www.facebook.com/elizagayle
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February 15th, 2010 — Guest Blogger, J-L, Suspense/Thriller
by Cym Lowell, guest blogger and author of Riddle of Berlin.
When a writer crafts a thriller, is there a role that romance should play in the plot? This would be a great question for a creative writing class, along with other plot elements. Why? I can think of at least two reasons. First, there is no formula or stock answer so the question should generate plenty of lively discussion. Second, the lively discussion would be fascinating, reflecting the individual tastes of the participants.
As a practical matter, the thriller genre has enough sub-genres to absorb any level of romance that a reader could want. We have books that are described and promoted as romantic suspense or romantic mystery. There are probably books promoted as romantic thrillers, though none come to mind immediately. There are several that I think are romantic, as will be noted below, but I do not think they are promoted as such.
The place to begin this inquiry is to ask “what is romance?” Is it the subtle intrigue in the evolution of a relationship that seems too bizarre to be possible (this was the case in the now best seller The Swan Thieves by Elizabeth Kostova). Or is it the sensuality of James Bond and his “Bond girls?” There are plenty of books that seem to surf on swells of voyeurism as the plots center around sex.
Which of these areas is romantic to you? To me, “romance” is a critical element of the humanity of characters. For me to find kinship and interest in characters, I want to know that they have needs, hopes, and dreams. As a story progresses, I will identify with and be concerned about a character who is brave enough to address the danger in the story that is always on the horizon (after all, we are talking about thrillers). As empathy grows for the character, I am hopeful that he or she will find that dream at the end of the chase. If such elements of humanity are taken out of the character, it generally becomes more one dimensional and my interest is likely to wane.
For every successful thriller writer, there is a different formula that works for that author and the style of story that he or she likes to tell. If the style resonates with a large enough group of readers, then the author will find at least creative success, and maybe financial as well. At the end of the day, fiction writers address what they know, with their own insecurities, hopes, or desires in full bloom for readers to enjoy as they will. Some of us are romantics. Others of us are, no doubt, so insecure in our own lives concerning romance that it is hard to imagine how characters would experience the romance that can only be dreamed of.
What do you want in a thriller in terms of romance? Do you enjoy the intellectual stimulation of genuinely intriguing action story line (First Blood by David Morrell, the classic beginning of the Rambo saga. The only romance in that wonderful book was understanding what made that interesting young man home from war tick. What about the chase to determine the famous Jason Bourne’s identity as the bad guys seek to shut him up forever (The Bourne Legacy by Eric Von Lustbader and Robert Ludlum)? The romance here is often in the nature of liaisons that are consumed in the fire of the action. Do you want to understand the psyche of Jason and the sensuality that be hidden beneath the exterior that is painted vividly? Or the romance could be a bit of prop to establish the humanity of a thriller character, which is a common way in which romance seems to be embraced in thrillers?
I read a lot of books and I am constantly amazed at the prop nature of romance. In this sense, I think of a “prop” as being something that is necessary for the story but really has no role in it. How about romance being the real story and the action parts being the background (Terms of Attraction by Kylie Brant). I loved this book because it was so easy to attach to the characters and wonder what possibility there was between. The needs of both male and female protagonists were plainly established from the first moment. She is a professional killer (a police sniper), who is needful. Can she find it? Don’t you want your protagonists, male or female, to find excitement in their romantic lives? Don’t you want to read of them experiencing what you dream of for yourself? Do you want to see how the protagonists deal with emotions that you have felt in your life, reading the story amazed that fictional characters could experience what you have, then become hooked to see if they handle it better or worse that you did in your life?
For me? I love to combine an exciting thriller story-line with situations in which real people, like you or me, could find themselves ensnared. In my novel, Riddle of Berlin
, the female protagonist sees a likely dead body in the waters of the Seine River in Paris. She strips naked, jumps in, hauls the inert carcass aboard, nurtures it back to health, as her boat traverses the waterways of Europe. She falls in love, as does he with her. Initially, he thinks he died and awoke in Heaven in the arms of angel. “Angels are soft,” he said, “and delicious.”
My conclusion about the role of romance in thrillers is that a fiction writer puts his or her own feelings on paper, whether it is conscious or not. A few months ago, I was honored to be asked to address an African-American reading club. One of the ladies had read Riddle of Berlin and wanted me to address its Christian themes. Frankly, I was delighted to accept but mystified about the suggestion that there were Christian or even religious themes in the book. Upon reflection and preparation, I was surprised to find a wide range of such themes. When I then thought through why they were so apparent when I was looking for them, but not when the words were getting on the page, I had an interesting self-revelation. Religion is an important part of my life, so as I write it is inevitable that such themes find their way into the storyline.
Similarly, romance is a driving force in my life so it is not surprising that it is front and center in what I write.
Buy: Riddle of Berlin
Author Bio:
Cym is a thriller writer who lives on a lake in East Texas. A romantic, he enjoys weaving romance, spirituality, and experience from the world into his international thriller stories. He also enjoys reviewing a wide range of books, including romance stories, especially if the stories expose the souls of their characters.
You can find more information about Cym on his blog, www.cymlowell.blogspot.com and connect with him on Twitter, www.twitter.com/cymlowell.
Giveaway: Cym Lowell is offering two versions of his bookRiddle of Berlin to two readers today. One will get a a signed copy and the other will get an ebook version. Both are open to international readers. If you have a preference, please indicate in your comment. To enter leave a comment or ask Cym a question! One entry per relevant comment/question; multiple entries allowed. Ends: February 28, 2010. Good luck!
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February 14th, 2010 — Guest Blogger
by King Mho Fho and Katiebabs of Babbling About Books and More, guest bloggers
My girl Keira is in the middle of some ocean on a big boat getting her freak on. Since she can’t post on this special day of all days, she has asked me, your favorite demon sheep, to guest post. And because it’s Valentine’s Day, and one of the most romantic days of the year, I give you my list of my top 5 favorite romance heroes of all time.
I’ve acted out a few scenes from some well known books, but with a twist.
1. Roarke from JD Robb’s In Death Series:
Eve: Mho Roarke, why do you have my button from that ugly ass suit I wore in Naked in Death?
Mho Roarke: I carry this button in my pocket so I can have a piece of you wherever I go!
Eve: That is strangely romantic and a somewhat disturbing, but I can dig that. Why are we in a bathtub?
Mho Roarke: Because we always end up having hot shower sex in every single In Death book.
Eve: Hot! Want to tell me who my candy thief is?
Mho Roarke: Sorry, not me darling, but I do have a nice big and tasty Snickers bar you can enjoy while I make sure the shower is set to boiling and just the way you like it.
2. This takes us to Derek Craven from Dreaming of You by Lisa Kleypas who also keeps something special close to his heart that his heroine owns:
Sara: Oh my! Why you have my missing glasses. Can I have them back?
Mho Derek: ‘ell no lovely. These are mine! I am not ‘orthy of your love and the only thing I have to keep me warm at night (and no I didn’t boink that whore) are these glasses of yours.
Sara: Mho Derek, take me I am yours! Ravish me in the garden, your bath, on the card table! *swoon*
Mho Derek: You better believe it. And if you ever think of cutting your hair, I will tie you to the bed and continue to have more wicked sex with you because I am so wicked and not ‘orthy of your love!
3. Rain Tairen Soul from C.L. Wilson’s Lord of the Fading Lands Tairen Souls series:
Mho Rain: Ellie you are my mate, my soul! I won’t take no for an answer, much like those psycho vampire heroes of Christine Feehan. Come be my bride and we can make little cat babies.
Ellie: Why Rain you scare me so, but you are so handsome and brooding. Can I ride on your back?
Mho Rain: *rowl* you can ride me and more.
4. Vishous from Lover Unbound by J.R. Ward:
Butch: Yo V dude that was the best time I ever had in bed. You’ve made me see the light and with the day glow hand of yours and the way you wear leather so well, I want to engage in more the butt butt love with you.
Mho V: Word my bitch… er my Butch. But every so often I have to go off with Casper… er Doc Jane because she’s my mate and all. But if you want, she can join in.
Butch: Sweet!
Jane: *poofs* YAY. Bend over boys!
5. And finally my all time favorite hero ever! Jacob Black from Stephenie Meyer’s Twilight series:
Bella: Oh Mho Jacob I love you like a friend, even with your rock had abs and adorable smile and the way you wear those short jeans shorts that makes me bite my lip and worry way too much.
Mho Jacob: *sticks out 8 pack abs* Leave sparkle boy for me!
Bella: I can’t, because he sparkles and you don’t.
Mho Jacob: *transforms into wolf* Yes I do, see I am a sparkling wolf!
Bella: Um, you are a pony with pink hair.
Mho Jacob: *grumble* kicks Edward and stomps away
And there you have it! Hope you have enjoyed my acting skill. If you had to pick your top 5 literary heroes of all time, who would you choose?
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February 12th, 2010 — Guest Blogger, Poetry, V-Z
by John Wareham, guest blogger and author of Sonnets for Sinners.
Excerpted from:
SONNETS FOR SINNERS: Everything One Needs to Know About Illicit Love,
by John Wareham
Published by Welcome Rain, New York.
Copyright © 2010 by John Wareham
The ubiquity of illicit love surely proves that marriage is like a castle under siege; all those the outside are trying to get in, and all those on the inside are trying to get out. But if the prime goal of those so anxiously seeking entry to the castle is lifetime partnership, then no wonder so many unions fail. With more time and effort, these same people might make a better match—and, given the work that marriage takes, a more compatible one, too. Maybe that’s why James Taylor hit a nerve with his song, “It’s sad to belong to someone else when the right one comes along.” Unfortunately, such a latecomer often proves all too tempting; an irresistible focus of love and lust within a thrilling aura of secrecy. Partakers become accomplices in the crime of seeking grander thrills than marriage can provide. Then the “brevity factor” comes into play: the moments that illicit lovers spend together are so fleeting that they seldom become truly familiar, allowing their intense, love-fevered illusions to remain intact for months, years, or even lifetimes. A grand tour of illicit love, conducted in my anthology of forty-nine epiphanic sonnets, guides us through six typical stages.
- Attraction. Sonnets for Sinners opens with fourteen lines distilled from the heartfelt emails of Governor Mark Sanford, who, standing in a crowded room experienced a Some Enchanted Evening
moment. “My heart cries out for you,” he wrote, “and an even deeper connection to your soul / I have crossed lines and I love you.” Well, the governor certainly crossed some lines, but whether he fell in love with the woman known as Maria might be moot, for as Voltaire warned, “If you think you love your mistress for herself, you are mistaken.” Right—for as several ultimately regretful sinning sonneteers make clear, upon gazing into the eyes of an imagined soul mate, illicit lovers, like Narcissus, mostly romance their own reflections.
- Fever. Chandler Haste shares hard-won insights about the drug induced fever of illicit love: “You blow me stardust from your heart / and speed the pulsing of my being.” Indeed: mind and heart collude in a struggle that blends infatuation, enchantment, and lust into a dangerous fever. No passion is so serious, no sickness so potent. It fells princes, presidents, potentates, and paupers. Doctors can’t quell it. Analysts can’t shrink it. Priests can’t exorcise it. The police cannot imprison it. A spouse cannot snuff it. Young men and women sacrifice their lives for it. Old folks stagger up its beckoning path. It is a feverish delirium that must run its course.
- Lamentation. Nailed on the crucifix of illicit love, sinners discover themselves hanging between two thieves—guilt and desire. Worse, however, than the inescapable presence of these forlorn companions, is the agony of ungovernable, intermittent separation from the loved one; “How like a winter hath my absence been from thee,” says Shakespeare. Yes, for clandestine lovers coming together may be easier than getting together; and as the wounded Tiger Woods texted his tootsie, “It’s brutal that you can’t always be with me.”
- Farewell. We seldom know how much we love, or how dependent we have become upon the drug of love, until a breakup. A clean rupture would be ideal, the kind of calm goodbye that poet Michael Drayton urges in the opening line of his most famous sonnet, “Since there’s no help, come let us kiss and part.” In the unreal world of illicit love, however, nothing is so simple, and the agony of goodbyes can seem as interminable as they are unbearable. Hence Emily Dickenson’s observation, “Parting is all we know of heaven / and all we need of hell.”
- Ending. The problem with the enzyme of secrecy that so heightens a sinner’s pleasure is that it also provokes pangs of anxiety, and ultimately poisons the affair. In the end, guilt-wracked sinners feel relief, but dedicated love addicts suffer a sense of loss and longing. For them, if the opening act was a heart-stopper, the closing curtain can be a soul destroyer, and suicide a distinct possibility. An apparently more palatable way to end an illicit affair is to marry one’s lover. With the glue of secrecy gone, however, longing and lust may evaporate, too, thereby, as in a devilish game of snakes and ladders, delivering the hapless partners all the way back to the bottom rung.
- Epiphany. No one can comprehend the enslaving power of illicit love without first being incarcerated in its crazed penitentiary. It is as true of a lover as of love itself: we only know well the paramour to whom we so madly committed—then, later, objectively judged. To understand the intensity of illicit love one must be free of it, but not always have been free. Only then can we appreciate the potential alchemy in sinning: with luck, that intoxicating experience can be evolve into wisdom, which, if it does not always bring joy, can yet produce the insight and redemption so beautifully described by Elan Haverford: “Lastly, a chastening sun fired fiery darts, / annihilating my losses and lies, / absolving my crimes, healing my heart / and cleansing the salt from my scarlet eyes.”
Ah, yes, psychologists and theologians can theorize on the nature of illicit love, but as you see, it takes a sinning poet to fully bare a lover’s heart and soul.
For more go too www.sonnetsforsinners.com
Buy: Sonnets for Sinners: Everything One Needs to Know About Illicit Love
John Wareham author, poet, and lecturer, is an eminent coach and counselor to upward strivers—from prison inmates to corporate chiefs. His works include the life-changer, How to Break Out of Prison
, the critically acclaimed novel Chancey on Top
—ranked in the New York Observer “among the finest novels ever”—and the bestselling psycho-political thriller, The President's Therapist
.
Visit: www.johnwareham.com
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February 11th, 2010 — Between the Sheets, Guest Blogger, News, Plump/Endowed Heroine
by Karen Jones, guest blogger and Promotions Manager for Accomplice Press.com
Accomplice Press is proud to announce a new romance book line called Curvalicious.
Here at Accomplice Press we love a good juicy romance and a few of us are vivacious, full-figured women, so we are extremely excited to bring this series to our readers. The Curvalicious line will be short novella length romance stories that showcase plus-size heroines in a very positive light. These curvy, inspirational women are beautiful, strong, sexy in their own ways and intelligent. The best part is that Curvalicious women always get the man of their dreams without losing weight or changing who they are on the outside. The stories will be available in e-book format with periodic print anthologies.
As publishers and women we feel that there are countless romance lovers who don't see real life females, like themselves, portrayed in the books they read. We offer books that stimulate hope and build self confidence while entertaining with enticingly creative plot lines spotlighting the voluptuous heroine's point of view. Our selections always depict relationships between a hero and heroine that are fully realized by the end of the story with a "happy ever after" or "happy ending for now". Romance novels should be like a warm sunny day in the middle of the coldest winter night, we strive to make that happen with every turn of the page.
"Society and the media have convinced women that men won't find you attractive if you are double-digit sizes. This is reinforced by the romance book industry. The leading terms used to describe a heroine are slender, thin, lithe, small, and tiny. Real women read romances, and real women deserve to be able to relate to the heroines. Romance stories are about fantasies, and as a large woman, I personally do not find it satisfying to fantasize about a man touching a body that I can't relate to. I also happen to know that men love women of all sizes. Sexy comes from within. That is why I created Curvalicious." --DJ Alling, CEO, Co-Founder of Accomplice Press and Editor in Chief
At Accomplice Press we realize that the word "romance" means different things to different people so Curvalicious will have two distinct categories based on the relationship's heat level. Curvalicious Sweet is romance with sweet or sensual love scenes, but no explicit language or sex. Curvalicious Spicy is erotic romance containing explicit language and sex scenes. The first book released in this series is a spicy but touching romance called A reason to Stay by Delinda Jasper. The heroine Ellie is ready to move far away from the home and man she loves because she doesn't feel her best friend Jake will ever feel the same way. After an amazing evening together she wonders if she's lost him forever.
In conjunction with this groundbreaking launch Accomplice Press is holding a Curvalicious writing competition. Beginning on Valentine's Day, February 14, 2010 and ending at midnight on May 14, 2010, we'll be accepting submissions in two different categories, one sweet and one spicy. On May 28, 2010 two winning entries will be announced on Accomplicepress.com, then contracted and published in e-book format by the publisher. The top three submissions of each category will also be included in the first Curvalicious print anthologies. Curvalicious contest entries must be sent to curvecontest@accomplicepress.com. The specific guidelines for sweet and spicy submissions, word count and formatting requirements are all available at our website accomplicepress.com.
Accomplice Press may be a new kid on the block but we aren't amateurs, instead we're perfectionists striving for literary excellence. Accomplice press is NOT a self-publishing company; we are a full service, boutique-style publisher dedicated to being a partner to our readers and authors.
Happy reading and writing…good luck authors!
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February 10th, 2010 — A-C, Great Britain, Guest Blogger, Time Travel
by Laurie Brown, guest blogger and author of What Would Jane Austen Do?
1. No planes, trains or automobiles -
So that means the main mode of transportation would be horses. Beautiful to look at, but smelly. Lots of horses in London meant lots of you know what in the streets. Also a horse drawn conveyance would be so slow by our standards. If I had to ride in a carriage to work it would take me four hours to get there.
2. No electricity -
No computer, no television, and no electric lights. Instead there would be a number of oil lamps and candles. If you've ever tried to light up a room enough to read during a blackout, you know how many candles it takes. The fuel in the lamps would be fish oil, olive oil, whale oil, sesame or nut oil. All of which would leave a lingering scent, especially since household fabrics in drapes, rugs, and in furniture was seldom cleaned and only 'aired out' once a year. Gas lighting using coal oil was invented in 1804 and a few houses and streets in had been converted but it was still advanced technology.
3. No cell phones -
The main method of communication (for messages traveling farther than across the room) was letter writing. A lost art, true, but immediate contact has so many advantages. It doesn't take days (or even months across the ocean) to send a message and get a response. A loved one could die before others even knew they were ill. Postage was expensive because independent agents delivered the letters. The recipient paid for the service. Rates became standardized when the fist stamp wasn't issued in 1840. The cost decreased, transit times reduced, and mail volume increased dramatically. But it still isn't as fast as picking up the phone to tell your best friend that Bloomies has just marked down a ton of designer shoes. Imagine having to send a letter.
4. Lack of modern dentistry -
Not just the fact that medically trained dentists were rare but that the barber or blacksmith was considered an appropriate substitute. There were toothbrushes of a sort. Some were mass produced as early as 1780 but were generally made of boar's hair and wood. (I didn't even know boars had hair.) Toothpastes were unknown but toothpowders were made by the household or by an apothecary. The powders might contain bicarbonate of soda, charcoal, salt, sugar, burnt alum, cinnamon and/or cloves. They might also contain brick dust, crushed china/earthenware, ground cuttlefish, or dragon's blood. No wonder there was such a market for false teeth.
5. Lack of modern plumbing -
Chamber pots. Outhouses. No toilet paper. No sanitary products. Need I say more?
6. Lack of bathing -
I know this relates to plumbing, but it goes beyond the sheer lack of running water. They had tubs that were laboriously filled by buckets, but people of the early 1800's just didn't believe in bathing. Some even thought it was dangerous to your health to get wet all over. Others believed a wash once or twice a year was sufficient. No need to wonder why heavy perfumes and nosegays were popular.
7. No modern medicine -
Sort of along the same lines as dentists, but so much more encompassing. Doctors of the day were no fonder of bathing than their patients. Until Florence Nightengale noticed during the Crimean War (c.1854) that cleanliness increased the odds that a patient would survive, doctors rarely washed their instruments between patients much less sterilize them. Medical knowledge was so far behind what it is today. Many children died in infancy, and many women died in childbirth. Jane Austen died in 1817 at age 41 from a disease that didn't even have a name, wasn't recognized. Today a diagnosis of Addison's Disease is serious but not a death sentence.
8. Uncomfortable clothing -
If they didn't complain of being uncomfortable that's just because they didn't know anything else. Girls were put into corsets as young as the age of two. Many women wore stiff corsets 24 hours a day because after so many years their muscles could no longer hold them upright without support. Shoes had no left or right but were made the same for both feet. Unless they were made of the softest leather or fabric, they just had to have rubbed blisters. There were few sizes to choose from and if your feet were in between the lasts, (as a cobbler's shoe-making forms were called, generally made of wood) then you could either stuff the toes with cotton or suffer the pinch of a too tight fit. If you were rich enough you could have your shoes made to a personal last that had been carved to match your foot. The same went for men. Many men wore corsets and padded clothing. Fashionable collars were stiff and came up around their ears so high that they couldn't turn their neck.
9. So Not Equal Rights -
Women were rarely educated except to entice a husband, and to run his household after marriage. Although women could own property, if they married, all control went to their husbands. Arranged marriages were considered not only acceptable but desirable. A woman was expected to grow to love her husband after marriage and children. Not the plot of a good romance novel that's for sure.
And the #1 reason for not traveling back in time even if it were available--
No Chocolate -
At least not as we know it. They did have a bitter hot cocoa beverage that was served in the coffee houses and some homes (nothing like the modern version) but chocolate as in candy bars was not invented until 1847.
[insert shameless plug here] In What Would Jane Austen Do? Eleanor Pottinger faces all of the above and more when she travels back in time. Does meeting the hero, Lord Shermont, make it all worthwhile?
Thanks reading my reasons for not going back in time. Do you have others?
Originally posted 2009-04-29 05:28:46. Republished by Blog Post Promoter
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February 10th, 2010 — A-C, Erotica, Guest Blogger, Paranormal, Vampire
by Teal Ceagh, guest blogger and author of the Destiny's Trinities series.
I’ve been on a marathon viewing of the second season of True Blood
. The TV series is a huge departure from the Sookie Stackhouse
books by Charlaine Harris, which I’ve read at least twice over, all nine-point-five of them. I’m looking forward to reading book ten in May, when it’s released.
One of the more interesting convergences of the books and the series, though, is the question that constantly plagues both humans and vampires in the series: What is the difference between humans and vampires? And should vampires work to maintain their human-ness, or let it go and embrace their differences?
I find that a fascinating part of both series and I find the same questions tend to creep into the books that I write — although I tend to deal with the questions in much more intimate ways, as I’m writing erotic vampire romances. I love watching vampires struggling with feelings. After centuries of growing cynical and objective about temporal humans, seeing vampires brought to their knees by love, especially love for a human, is an especial treat — and the greater and more powerful the vampire, the more delightful it is to watch his or her topple from their ivory tower.
To fall in love with a human must be devastating for a vampire. They know from experience built over decades, centuries and sometimes even millennia, that the human they have feelings for will soon wither and die and still they cannot help themselves but feel romantic love for them. How does that make a vampire feel? Weak? Vulnerable? Powerless? An idiot? A fool? Human?
What if that human does not want to be turned to a vampire as they age? What if they prefer to age and die and leave the vampire to go on alone through the ages. Or what if the vampires refuses to turn the human when the human requests it?
There are dozens of moral, ethical and emotional questions and dilemmas that sex and romance between vampires and humans beget and beg to be explored. Is it any wonder that vampire romances are so popular? There’s so much uncharted emotional conflict still to be shaped into delicious stories and heart-stopping tales. I know I’m not about to stop writing them any time soon.
Nearly one hundred years after their last dance together, Eva’s long-lost love Edward makes contact again. Eva, now a lonely vampire, can’t resist falling into his arms and under his erotic spell. She’ll do anything he asks of her…
Until the spell is rudely interrupted by Ryan, a demon hunter on the trail of an incubus. He seduces Eva with a searing night of dance and passion—and attempts to avert the disaster that hovers over the delicate, beguiling creature.
Buy Eva's Last Dance
Excerpt
Usual warning folks…This is not kiddie fare. Read at your own moral risk.
Chapter One
Eva brushed her gloved hand down the length of her gown nervously and stepped out onto the roof, her heart pounding. At the other end of the roof, he was standing there waiting for her and she thought she might die.
“Edward,” she whispered, coming to a halt.
“Yes, it’s me.” He came toward her, holding out a rose. “I know it’s a shock but I can explain all that.” He handed her the rose. “Just as I know you can explain how you came to be here. Now.” And he smiled, just like she remembered, his blue eyes dancing, his easy smile lighting up his face. His blond hair was slicked back as always and he wore a white suit, just as she remembered too.
“You don’t look any different,” she said and her voice was husky.
“Neither do you.” He picked up her hand and drew her toward the centre of the roof. “It’s not the Waldorf, but would you care to dance?”
“I haven’t danced since…since then.” She looked around at the paper lanterns he had strung. “What about music?”
He pulled a small remote control from his pocket and clicked it. “Modern living has some advantages,” he confessed and a Strauss waltz emerged from an MP3 player and speakers set up on a small table. Waltzes. She loved waltzes the best and he knew it. She melted into his arms and wished that she was able to cry, to give expression to the overwhelming joy of being nestled in Edward’s embrace once more. Soon she would have to find out how this miracle had happened. But not now. For now she would simply enjoy it.
And dance. It had been such a long time.
Once, long ago, she and Edward had danced every night, their bodies pressed against each other, their eyes locked, the knowledge of their future together written in each others’ gazes.
She turned her head now to look him in the eye. “Edward.”
He looked at her and she saw once again the gleam in his eyes. The dancing had often been their only way of expressing their physical needs for each other, that they would not be able to fulfill until their marriage. Now she saw and understood the lust in his eyes and welcomed it. There was no impediment and her heart raced. As their steps slowed to a gentle swaying, his big hand gathered up the skirt of her gown, lifting it and his mouth captured her lips.
She moaned as his tongue pushed into her mouth, rough and commanding. Fright tore through her. They would never have been this daring when they were first engaged. Their families would have been shocked and horrified at the public display. But the fright was edged with arousal that swiftly overcame the old barrier. She wanted more.
Edward bent her over his arm, his hand sliding under her gown, past her stocking tops, to the tops of her thighs. His hand was cool but nevertheless, she found his touch made her tremble with anticipation. This was Edward, the man she had loved and thought she had lost.
His lips trailed down her throat to kiss her breasts above the low décolletage of her gown and his hand pushed between her thighs. She was slick with moisture and bare of undergarments. She longed for him to thrust his hand—
“Hey, asshole!”
Edward turned his head around toward the access doorway, questing like a wolf surveys the landscape.
Eva tried to stand up, for there was a man on the roof a few paces from the door, wearing a three-quarter length coat against the April chill, his legs spread in an aggressive stance. Black hair that was supposed to be short but needed cutting and glinting blue in the soft lights. Dark eyes surveying them with a world-weary expression and a sharp jaw set at a sardonic angle. Worse, there was a double-barrel shotgun over one shoulder.
Edward made a sound that was inhuman. A banshee howl. And he dropped her. She fell flat on her ass as he turned and strode toward the stranger, careless of the gun he had over his shoulder.
The man flipped the gun over and fired one barrel and Eva screamed as Edward clutched at his stomach with a shocked expression.
“Surprise,” the stranger said. “Think I’d use normal pellets on an asshole like you? Salt bound with holy water, with my compliments.” He walked up to Edward, put a boot on his shoulder and shoved and Edward fell on his back.
“What are you doing?” Eva cried, scrambling over to them.
“Saving your ass, honey. Don’t get in the way.” The man reached under his coat and pulled out a black knife with a flat, wide blade. Edward lay clutching his stomach and gasping with inhuman, whimpering sounds and the man leaned toward him and thrust the knife into his heart.
Eva screamed. She leapt on his back, reaching for the knife, moving as fast as she could but before she could pluck it from Edward’s heart, he disappeared. She stared at the black, smoking outline where his body had been, disbelief crowding all thoughts from her head.
That was when the man flipped her onto her back on the roof and straddled her, his black eyes glinting dangerously. “You’re a fucking vampire!” he railed.
Ryan watched the delicate little blonde’s crystal blue eyes get very large. “How do you know that?” she whispered. “No humans—”
“I just off’d an incubus. You think I don’t know about vampires?” he railed. “Question is, what did the thing want with you? They go after humans. Not your kind.”
“You’re a hunter,” she said breathlessly, fear blooming in her eyes.
“Relax,” he said, sitting back on his heels. “I took vampires off my hit list five years ago. But that still doesn’t answer my question.”
“Edward…was an incubus?” she asked. She looked like she was about to burst into tears and Ryan put it together with an almost audible click. “Jesus Christ, they duped you, didn’t they? Who was Edward to you? An old boyfriend?” He got to his feet. Normally, he would have let her get up on her own but something about her dress—the olde worlde quaintness of it, the long gloves and the way her golden curls were piled on top of her head…or maybe it was just the way her big blue eyes were gazing at him with such desperate need for help and information—whatever, okay, all right, he was a weak-minded idiot—he picked her up around the waist and put her on her feet. And damn but his hands nearly met around her middle.
And just for a second he flashed on a mental image of gripping her waist as he pounded his cock into her petite little package, making her scream his name.
He stepped back, dropping his hands from her waist like she was a hot potato and picked up the shotgun and reloaded it, giving his suddenly shaking hands something to do.
“Edward…was my fiancé,” she said softly. “We were supposed to have married, May 1, 1912. I was to join him in New York and booked passage on the Titanic.” She looked up at Ryan with a small smile. “I was not one of the women who found an early seat on the lifeboats. But a man who found me as I was dying offered me an alternative and I took it. He made me into a vampire, which allowed me to survive the cold that night and pass as human until we arrived in New York on the Carpathia. I could not go to Edward after that. It was part of the price of becoming a vampire.”
Ryan expected her blue eyes to swim with tears, until he remembered that vampires could not cry. He cleared his own throat. “What happened to him?” he asked.
“He died in the great war,” she said softly. “A hero, they said.” She looked over at the still smoking outline of the incubus. “So when I got his note today, saying that he had returned and wanted to see me, I thought that perhaps he had found a way to live on, just as I had.”
Ryan recalled the image he’d seen as he’d first stepped onto the roof—the demon’s lips on her breasts, his hands between her thighs, the gown hiked up around her hips and realized that his cock was straining against his pants, beating a steady tattoo that echoed in his temples. He was lusting after a vampire. Shit. Who’d have thought?
He waved toward the blue satin dress she was wearing. It made her waist look tiny and her breasts look like they might spill out at any moment. The sleeves looked like they would fall from her arms if he gave them the slightest encouragement, further exposing her breasts. He already knew that beneath the long panels of the dress she wore delicate stockings that stopped just above her knees and nothing else.
“Is this what you used to wear, then?”
“Almost,” she said, with a small smile. “My momma would have spanked me for not wearing a corset, or…other items. But yes, this is what we wore then.” And she blushed.
Ryan knew he was lost then. The blush did it. That and the dress that covered up far more than women exposed these days, yet did more to say “fuck me” than most porn. He was gone. Hook, line and sinker. He wanted to wrap himself around her delicate beauty and at the same time pin her to the wall and fuck her until those blue eyes hazed over with sensual repletion.
“So the fucking bastard gives you one dance and you’re putty in his hands,” he ground out. “Didn’t you even stop to ask for his credentials?”
“It was Edward. Why would I ask? And he danced with me. We always danced. We…” Her blush deepened and she dropped her gaze. “We danced instead of…” Then she lifted her head and looked him squarely in the eye. “We danced instead of sex. It was the way of it in those days, Mr.…”
“Ryan,” he said stiffly, as ideas exploded in his mind. “Jesus Christ, you’re a virgin,” he said softly.
“I most certainly am not,” she said stiffly. “I’ve been a vampire for nearly a century, Mr. Ryan. I assure you, virginity is a technicality I left behind a long time ago.”
“Just Ryan.” He held up a hand, frowning. “Technically speaking, you might still be. These things count in the demon world, let me tell you. I’m not talking about toys, or other vampires, or the loss of a hymen, if that’s what you mean.”
Her chin remained up but her blush deepened and he knew he’d hit the mark. He put the shotgun down again, to make himself less threatening and dropped his hands to his sides. “Have you ever had sex with a human male?” he asked softly.
She took a breath. “No,” she admitted.
He nodded. “That’s what the incubus wanted—your virginity. They prey upon humans because they’re easy marks but finding virgins is becoming more and more difficult for them. But when they do, they get all the power that comes with that virgin’s blood. But a virgin vampire’s powers? Sex with you would give them power beyond belief. No wonder they went to such effort to fool you.”
She backed up and sat quickly in the fold up chair next to the table, like the strength had suddenly run out of her legs. “I had no idea,” she said.
“There’s a war on,” he said dryly. “Didn’t they warn you about this stuff?”
“I’ve never… I didn’t tell anyone,” she said.
Ryan knew he had to give her the rest of it. “They’re going to keep coming at you, you know.”
Her blue eyes looked up at him helplessly.
“They’re going to keep coming at you until you do something about it,” he finished harshly.
“What do I do?” she whispered.
His cock throbbed. “Have sex with a human,” he said. He fought for a casual, offhand tone. “I’m willing to help out, if you want.”
To buy this book from Ellora’s Cave, click here.
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Giveaway: Teal is offering to giveaway one copy of any of the three books from the DESTINY’S TRINITIES series, (BETH’S ACCEPTANCE, MIA’S RETURN or SERA’S GIFT). The winner gets to choose their prize. As they’re a series, it’ll depend on what the you have read so far, as Teal says they really need to be read in order. To enter leave a comment. One entry per relevant comment; multiple entries allowed. Ends: February 28, 2010. Good Luck!
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