Taste of Kiwi

My special guest today is fellow Ellora’s Cave author, Eve Cassidy. Eve has a new release this week, her debut release with EC, called Southern Comfort and she’s talking about favorite hangouts.

One of my favorite things in real life, television, movies or books is discovering a cool new place where people like to hang out. Not necessarily a place you go to party (although it can be) but generally the feel good place you and your friends always seem to congregate and eventually you get to know people who work there and frequent there on a first name basis. It becomes your home away from home for you and your friends.

That’s exactly the kind of place my upcoming ebook with Ellora’s Cave is all about. Southern Comfort is a bar and is loosely based on “the” bar me and my friends used to hang out at many years ago when I was an active duty marine stationed at an air base in North Carolina.

It was just outside the front gate so it offered easy access for everyone but it was still off base so it didn’t carry all the same rules an on base bar did. Honestly the place was a bit of a dump but it was a good size with multiple rooms stuffed with couches, tables, a dance floor, 2 bars and a good number of pool tables. I considered myself quite the player back then so I played a lot of pool there. But more importantly, all my friends were there.

Practically any day of the week, I could show up and there’d be a crowd of people I knew well and hung out with. Those were some good times and great memories.

It was that atmosphere that inspired me to write Southern Comfort and actually I am writing more stories around the same concept of a bar outside every front gate that caters to the boys of service.

Now a days my friend hangout is a French Bakery Café that is located in my city’s arts district about 20 minutes from home. Besides delicious food, decadent desserts and free wi fi, they are the only place open 24/7 365 days a year. The perfect writer hangout. When deadlines loom, you’ll find me there writing late into the night. Although some days you have to fight to get a table. It’s beloved by the entire city.

Whenever I meet someone who hasn’t been there I am more than eager to take them there for the quirky décor and an unbelievable salted caramel brownie. No wonder the place is so popular.

So what about you? Do you or did you have a favorite friend hangout? I’d love to hear about it.

Here is the blurb for Southern Comfort:

Two guys. A girl. One incredible game of pool…

Scarlett wants to escape, even if it’s just for a little while. So she heads to Southern Comfort where she’ll find a certain Marine she can’t keep her mind off of and he won’t be alone.

Michael spies the uptight woman of his dreams the minute she fights through the crowd. Sexy as sin, he can’t take his eyes off her while she flirts over some liquid courage. When she finally heads his way, it’s time to find out if she can live up to her end of the fantasy.

Red-hot chemistry may call the shots, but once you take the double hit… The game is on.

Purchase from Ellora’s Cave on 2 September.

CONTEST: Tell us about your favorite hangout and go into the draw to win a download of Eve’s new release, Southern Comfort.

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My special guest today is author Jenyfer Matthews. She’s talking about a very special challenge she’s facing this week as well as her new release, Separation Anxiety.

You know how it is, you go on vacation and you buy things. Maybe you’re even going to a place where you expect to shop so you travel light going.

Now imagine that you live in a country that not only doesn’t have good malls or decent mail service, but where you can’t even find quality socks when you need them. That’s me, in Egypt.

I’m an American who has lived abroad for eleven years (where does time go??). It wasn’t so bad when I lived in the United Arab Emirates – Dubai hosts an annual Shopping Festival, after all. But even there, in the land of shopping malls, there were still things you couldn’t find easily, like good socks or books (gasp).

Every summer I come back to America with light suitcases and a long shopping list. I’ve got it nearly down to a science now. Each child has their own ticket and we’re allowed two checked suitcases apiece, each weighing 50lbs. I’ve gotten very good at packing things – for instance, I pack all the heaviest items in the smallest suitcase, on the theory that it won’t go overweight because it will be full before I get too much in there anyway. In all my years of bringing back a year’s supply of miscellaneous stuff for a family of four, I’ve only once had to pay an overweight charge. Not bad on average, all in all.

This year, however, I’m worried.

I not only have several large but light, bulky items, but I also have a couple of very heavy things including a much-larger-than-I-expected jewelry chest and a lidded cast iron soup pot that once belonged to my grandmother. Unique challenges to my packing skills to say the least. I travel back to Egypt on Sunday so I’ll have to get back to you on how it all goes.

I’ve traveled a lot in the last decade so I suppose it’s no surprise that I would write a book where the heroine starts traveling after a major life crisis. I have to admit that I when I wrote SEPARATION ANXIETY I was indulging in a major fantasy exercise because not only wasn’t my character dragging two small children in her wake, she shopped as she liked and simply shipped her excess and unneeded items home ahead of her. Bliss.

I’m happy to say that SEPARATION ANXIETY is available in multiple digital formats from Smashwords.com as well as other major ebookstores, including Sony and Apple. SEPARATION ANXIETY is also available in paperback from Amazon.com.

BLURB

Sometimes running away is the first step toward finding yourself.

Aurora has spent her entire married life transforming herself from a regular, middle class girl into the perfect society wife. Life seems perfect until she is unceremoniously dumped by her philandering cliche’ of a husband just before Christmas – and their tenth wedding anniversary. Devastated and unable to face the social ostracism or the holiday parties, Aurora and her best friend Kat plan a trip to Amsterdam for a weekend…then decide to keep going. Aurora attempts to drown her sorrows with wine in Amsterdam and Frankfurt, finds her anger in Athens and Cairo, and reclaims her sexuality in Dubai. By the time she and Kat reach Bangkok at the New Year, Aurora is ready and eager to move on with her life.

Planned as a way to escape her pain, Aurora’s travels instead become a journey to a new sense of self and a whole new world – post-divorce.

EXCERPT

I am standing in the kitchen debating on whether or not baking some gingerbread would be overkill when I hear a car door outside.

My stomach flips and I run to the window to peek outside. It’s Bryce.

I press my hand to my stomach and try to slow my breathing. Hyperventilation and hysteria is hardly the alluring look I’m going for.

I go back to the kitchen, check my lipstick in my reflection on the window, and finger comb my hair. I whirl around and try to appear casual when I hear Bryce’s key in the door.

“Aurora?” Bryce says as he lets himself in.

“Good morning, Bryce,” I say, walking toward him and giving him a big smile. “Good to see you.”

He looks at me with some suspicion as he stands uncertainly in the foyer.

He’s not as impeccably presented as usual. His shirt is wrinkled and he doesn’t look as if he’s slept much. He certainly doesn’t look like a man who is happy with the decision he’s just made. I can feel my hopes rising just looking at him. This might be easier than I expected.

“Don’t just stand there,” I say, “This is your home, come in. I made some coffee. Sit down and have a cup. Can I get you some breakfast?”

“Thanks, but no,” he says, putting his hands in his pockets. “I really don’t have much time. I have an early appointment this morning. I’ll just go up and get my things.”

My smile fades. He’s deviating from my mental script of how this will go. He’s supposed to sit down, have breakfast and snap out of whatever spell Audrey has him under. “What? Just like that? Can’t we even talk about this? About us?”

I hear him sigh. “We already talked last night. What more is there to say?”

“We didn’t talk last night!” I take a deep breath and try to regain my composure. Bryce doesn’t like scenes so screeching at him will hardly win him over or gain his ear. I start again. “We didn’t talk. You made an announcement. I’d like a chance to discuss things with you. Privately.”

“I don’t really have much more to add, Aurora. I’m in love with Audrey and it doesn’t seem…kind to draw this out any more than we have to. I think it’s best to make a clean break.”

“So that’s it? After ten years together? How is it ‘kind’ to just walk out on me with no warning? Aren’t we at least supposed to try counseling?” I ask him as I follow him up the stairs to our bedroom.

Bryce is pulling suitcases from the back of our walk-in closet. “I don’t want to go to counseling.” He pauses to look at me. “I’m sorry.”

I stand there, stunned. He’s not repentant or regretful. He hasn’t realized his mistake. He’s merely uncomfortable with the situation. With me.

How has this happened? Yesterday things were normal. I was buying him an anniversary present. How can he be leaving me today?

He turns and begins to put things in the open suitcases. Shirts, pants, suit jackets, ties. I cross my arms and watch him silently. He picks up a small satchel and turns to cross to the bathroom. He squeezes my arm as he passes me. He is still my husband but already his touch seems foreign.

I can hear him opening drawers and dropping items into the bag. When he comes back out I want to catch his eye — to make him look at me! — but he’s looking down.

“You can’t leave without at least talking to me,” I try again. “You owe me that much at least.”

“I can’t see how talking about this will be helpful to you,” Bryce says, opening a dresser drawer and tossing socks and underwear into his suitcases. “I don’t have much time and endless discussion will only serve to hurt you more.”

“Oh my god — is she outside?” I ask. “Is she waiting for you in the car?” I run to the window to look out, trying to see into his car.

“No. I wouldn’t do that,” Bryce says. “I wouldn’t bring her here. This is hard enough as it is. On all of us.”

I can’t help but wonder whose feelings he is trying to spare because it certainly doesn’t seem to be mine.

It’s getting hard to maintain my composure when things are spinning so far out of my control. But this doesn’t make any sense to me. The situation does not compute. I have to have better answers than he’s giving me.

“What…” My voice breaks. I clear my throat and try again. “What did I do wrong? What do I need to do to fix this?”

Bryce sighs again. He stops packing for a moment and puts his hands on his hips. Finally he looks up at me.

“You haven’t done anything wrong,” he says. “Things just…happened. I’ve changed. I want different things. Neither of us is getting any younger and life is too short not to take happiness where you can find it. None of this was your fault. It’s not you, Aurora, it’s me.”

When I don’t answer him, he turns and starts packing again.

I can’t believe it. It’s been a while since I’ve heard it, but I’m pretty sure my husband of a decade just dumped me with a string of clichés and the old it’s-not-you-it’s-me line.

CONTEST – Jenyfer is giving away a PDF download of Separation Anxiety to one lucky reader. All you need to do to enter the draw is comment on this post or ask Jenyfer a question.

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My special guest today is fellow Carina Press author, Rebecca E. Grant. If you enjoy a contemporary cowboy romance, check out her latest release, Liberty Starr. Today Rebecca is talking about one of my favorite things–the romance hero. Tall, dark and a shuttle driver?

What do you think—would a shuttle driver make a good romance hero?

I hope you’ll leave a comment about your idea of a good romance hero here on Shelley’s blog today. All commenters will be included in the drawing for a free copy of my contemporary cowboy romance, LIBERTY STARR.

While you’re thinking about that question, last week I was taking an 8:00 AM shuttle bus from the Walt Disney Dolphin Hotel in Orlando where the Romance Writers of America conference had just wrapped up, to the airport. It was crammed full of romance writers. I should have been exhausted—we all should have been exhausted. But the energy on that bus was high—even though the temp topped out at over 100—the humidity was beastly, and the hour was early, after a late night—all because it was a great conference, and romance writers love what they do!

Even the ride to the airport was fantastic. I had the best seat on the bus—first seat on the passenger’s side with a bird’s eye view of our driver—a fabulously sexy, man from the Caribbean with amazing eyes, a tall, slender body and the sexiest…well, you know…sexiest everything!

I will admit I was unabashed about staring blatantly at him because physically, he was the perfect model for a romantic hero. He must have felt me watching him because he turned around and gave me a slow smile.

“Hot,” he said.

Too bad he was talking about the weather.

“Yes.” I agreed. “And that was a lot of luggage you slung under the bus.”

He ripped a paper towel off a roll he took from under the seat and wiped his forehead and the back of his neck. “I’ve never seen so much luggage. Must’ve been a lot of free giveaways at this conference.”

I smiled and nodded, seriously not trusting my voice—he was that good looking. He turned away and picked up a gallon jug of water, snapped the cap off and took a long pull. I watched the way his mouth fit over the opening of the jug—the undulations of his throat as he swallowed, and couldn’t help but imagine what his mouth would feel like—taste like.

He caught my eye in the mirror, lowered the jug and said, “Vodka.” He winked.

I chuckled. It wasn’t original, but it was entertaining. Encouraged, he picked up the microphone and treated us to a running diatribe of interesting facts and stories about the area. He was so engaging, someone called out from the middle of the bus, “you should do stand-up.”

He smiled at me through the mirror and said, “What do you think this is?”

About half-way to the airport he asked me, “What conference was this?”

This time I grinned—I haven’t met anyone yet who is indifferent to a romance writer. “Romance Writers of America.”

He reached for his jug, swallowed spectacularly again for me, and asked, “All of you are romance writers?”

I nodded.

“How do you conduct your research?” He asked. Again, not original—what romance writer hasn’t heard that one? But he was beyond sexy. He was compelling.

I decided to play with him a little. “Exactly as you imagine.”

He took another swallow and was momentarily quiet. I could see his mind working. Finally, he picked up the microphone and began to talk again, this time tailoring all his fun facts and stories to romance writers. Much of it centered around how romance authors conduct their research—and where. He was just short of crossing the line, with extraordinary timing, and an engaging laugh.

Needless to say, it was a fast ride to the airport, and I’m confident his tips attested to the fact that not only was he relentlessly sexy, he had a razor-sharp wit.

So, back to my original question. Do you think a shuttle bus driver would make a good hero?

When I got off the bus he asked, “Where do you get your ideas?” (only slightly different from the research question, but this time I knew he was serious).

I was serious too, when I answered, “Sometimes they come to me in dreams. Sometimes they just show up when I put my fingers to the keyboard. And sometimes,” I grinned, “it happens when I’m taking a shuttle to the airport.”

“Really? I could be a character in one of your books?”

“Trust me,” I told him. “You already are!”

Thanks for joining me at Shelley’s blog today. Don’t forget to leave a comment about your idea of a compelling hero, and why. You might just be the lucky winner of a free copy of LIBERTY STARR.

Click here for an excerpt from LIBERTY STARR
Click here to read reviews of LIBERTY STARR

Visit my website to read excerpts from books coming soon.

All the best to you,
Rebecca E. Grant

Love is Unstoppable!
www.RebeccaEGrant.com
http://blog.RebeccaEGrant.com
follow me on Twitter: @RebeccaEGrant
or visit me on Facebook

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My special guest today is debut author, David Bridger. I’m thrilled to introduce you to David and his first book, Beauty and the Bastard, which is available now from Liquid Silver Publishing. Today he’s talking about quiet experts, trees and romance.

Thank you for inviting me here today, Shelley. It’s an honour to be here with you.

I live with my wife and our daughters in a house on a quiet leafy avenue, halfway up one side of a wooded valley on the south Devon coast, in England’s West Country.

My Royal Navy career moved us around the world regularly, so we experienced life in a lot of places before deciding to settle here. The mild climate is just about perfect for us, although of course we moan about it if summer stays wet from spring to autumn, and it keeps our valley green and luscious.

It keeps the Plane trees that line our avenue growing vigorously, which is fine by me but not so popular with everyone else – including my wife and our next-door neighbour.

I love those trees. They were planted when the road was laid and the houses built, which happened to be the same year I was born, which makes it a damn good year in my book. But that’s only an incidental. The real reason I love them is that for several bedbound years, while I worked through pain to recover movement and mobility after an injury, those trees were all I saw of the world beyond my bedroom window.

In spring, I watched wood pigeons nesting in the crook of two thick branches only a few feet away from my pillow, and enjoyed their little families while they grew and flew as life budded and burst open all around them.

In summer, heavy foliage filled my vision and shaded the inside of my bedroom a lovely cool green, and middle-of-the-night rain storms turned into soothing percussion symphonies, and squirrels poked their cheeky faces out to chuckle at me while they chased one another round and round.

In autumn, spectacular golds and reds framed the ever-changing landscape that opened up to me as the valley became visible again, and the afternoon sound of my girls swishing home from school through mounds of fallen leaves rose to my ears.

In winter, I sketched the architecture of the trees and marvelled at their supple fortitude when gales thundered in from the ocean and battered them without mercy for weeks on end.

And round again into spring.

I built a relationship with the trees. Don’t get me wrong – I’m not a tree-hugger. Okay, so maybe I have hugged them once or twice. Don’t tell anyone, okay? They mean a lot to me.

But not everyone feels the same way. My wife and our neighbour get their knickers in a twist about the trees every two or three years, when their branches grow long enough to tap at our upstairs windows and rap on our roof tiles.

They’re protected, though, so no one except the local council is allowed to touch them. And the local council is always strapped for cash so the pollarding doesn’t happen as frequently as certain people would like it to.

Which is good news. I remember my distress the first time I watched a gang of men cutting the branches back hard and removing the top third or so of the trunk, two or three years after we moved in here. Can trees scream, or was it only the chain saws I heard? I didn’t know then, and I’m still not certain now.

Next time, five years later, I spoke to the man in charge of the council department. I was out of bed and in a wheelchair by then, re-emerging into the world and on my way to getting back on my feet. He was new in the job and I was impressed at his knowledge. He agreed with me that the previous pollarding had involved unnecessary savagery, and explained his methodology, which was all about encouraging healthy growth in the trees rather than simply hacking back an expensive nuisance.

When my wife and our neighbour telephoned yesterday to complain that the trees need cutting back again, I was happy to discover that he is still in his job. He told them politely but firmly that the trees are pollinating right now, so the pollarding will have to wait another four weeks or so. Good man!

You know, I really like meeting quiet experts.

I love meeting them in the world of romantic fiction.

This morning I walked in on a conversation between two of my publishing industry friends, who were talking about romance novels and sharing a condescending chuckle.

Now, these are good men. Pleasant, intelligent, well-adjusted men. I respect them and value their friendship. But right then? Well, you know.

The romance world is full of experts, people who know exactly what they want and people who know exactly how to deliver it, and none of them deserve the condescension of people on the outside who don’t actually know what they’re talking about.

Romance readers are absolutely experts. Anyone would have to go a long way to find another group of readers more knowledgeable and enthusiastic about their chosen genre. Romance readers definitely know what they like.

Romance publishers are experts. At every stage of the publishing process, experts work hard to offer readers an astonishing variety of wonderful treasures.

In the romance world, readers and authors are respected, well-treated and happy, and who can ask for more than that?

I suggested to my friends that all these experts – readers, authors, editors in their various roles, and cover artists – seem to be doing it just right. Because romance is booming while most other segments of the publishing industry are only farting.

I love being a romance author. I’m proud of our industry and I love the people who make it what it is.

That’s you. Thank you!

You can buy David’s debut book now from Liquid Silver Books.

Saul the Bastard is a fallen angel who works as a bounty hunter for powerful urban demon families. Rebecca Drake, a modern day demon princess, is being hunted by dangerous desert demons. When Rebecca’s family hires Saul to protect her, they are both unhappy with the arrangement, but before long sparks fly as they try to resist their strong mutual attraction. For the first time in living memory, Saul has someone to love; someone he is scared of losing; someone the desert demons have marked to be their next sacrifice.

Read an excerpt.

CONTEST: I thought I’d give away a download of David’s debut book to one person who comments on this post or asks David a question about his book or writing. I’ll choose the winner tomorrow.

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My special guest today is Toni Anderson, a marine biologist turned writer. After my recent cruise, I’m fascinated with the sea, and I begged Toni to tell us a little about marine biology as well as her recent release, A Sea of Suspicion.

Thanks for having me on your blog, Shelley. Shelley wanted to hear a little about my previous life as a Marine Biologist and how it connects to my writing, so here we go…

I was born and raised in the old-fashioned, land-locked, rural English county called Shropshire. Every summer my family would take off in their old Ford Anglia (6 of us in all) and we’d go camping at Black Rock Sands, Porthmadog, North Wales. My dad helped us to trawl through the rock-pools at the base of the cliffs and spawned (pun intended) a lifelong love of the ocean and its elusive inhabitants. Career choice seemed like a no-brainer when I spotted ‘MARINE BIOLOGY’ in the UCCA handbook. I headed off to the University of Liverpool who had a field station on the Isle of Man (now sadly closed :-( ) where me and my Honours class spent our final year. It sounds kind of idyllic? A whole year on an island studying marine life with like-minded people? It sounds romantic and idealistic.

It wasn’t.

The Isle of Man is smack-bang in the middle of the Irish Sea and is one of the windiest places on Earth. I spent most of the time in fleece, Gortex and welly boots, my hair frizzed within an inch of a 1970’s afro. It wasn’t romantic. It was cold, wet and claustrophobic. Thirty students living in one another’s pockets for nine months made it an oddly lonely experience as we all worked hard to get our degree. My then boyfriend couldn’t label his limpets for his Honour’s Project so I foolishly said I’d do it for him (having small nimble fingers), which meant endless 5:00 a.m. starts to catch the low tide (I am so not a morning person). My own Honor’s Project died over Christmas which cut the experiment a little shorter than anticipated.

It should have put me off science for life, but I guess I’m contrary because I was completely hooked on that type of smelly, slimy, destined-for-failure research. I headed off to the University of St Andrews, Scotland, and began one of the most fun and emotionally rewarding periods of my life. I spent 4 fantastic years in the Gatty Marine Laboratory, working my proverbial backside off, partying when time and money allowed, before graduating with a Ph.D. at the age of 25.

Marine Biology requires a practical disposition where you aren’t afraid of blood, guts, stinky smells (usually seaweed) or big men in woolly jumpers. Things wriggle, jump and escape (even when dead). Stuff gets spilled. Illegal aliens come into the lab using false credentials and spread seriously nasty chemicals around like talcum powder. Personalities clash and explode, people use one another, cheat, bitch, moan, despair, comfort, love. People come from all over the world to collide in a melting pot of human drama. It’s awesome!

I loved research. LOVED it :-) . I went on to the Institute of Aquaculture, Stirling, where I had the best boss ever, and then onto Canada. It allowed me to meet the most wonderful people while chasing fish around the world. But when I had kids I realized I couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t put everything I needed to put into research and have enough left over for babies. Science isn’t a nine-to-five sort of career. So I pursued another dream of mine, to write, and I knew I had to set a romantic murder mystery in the Gatty Marine Lab.

That story, SEA OF SUSPICION, was just published by Carina Press :-D

Blurb

Marine biologist Susie Cooper traded her life in America for a dream job on the rugged Scottish coast. Now all she lacks is the right man to start a family with. After their first meeting, she knows sexy Detective Inspector Nick Archer isn’t what she’s looking for. He’s the type of guy whose idea of commitment is staying the whole night.

Nick has returned to St. Andrews for one reason only—to fulfill his vow to find his wife’s killer. Relentless in his twelve-year quest for justice, he has no problem using Susie to get close to his primary suspect: her boss. But the passion between them smolders, and as it ignites, Nick finds himself torn between his past and his present—with Susie.

When one of her boss’s students is murdered, Nick’s investigation draws Susie into a web of madness and betrayal. They will have to learn to trust each other if they’re going to catch a killer…and come out of this alive.

Read an excerpt of Sea of Suspicion here

Available from Carina Press and all other ebook stockists.

Thanks so much for having me, Shelley—any questions welcome :-) . By the way, SEA OF SUSPICION has its own Facebook page and I’ll be running another contest there in the next week or so. For travel adventures check out my blog…

CONTEST: Either ask Toni a question about her book, writing or marine biology or tell us about your favorite beach destination and you’ll go into a draw to win a download of Sea of Suspicion. We’ll draw the winner tomorrow.

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My special guest today is fellow Carina Press author, Abby Wood. Abby is here to tell us about her recent release, Consent to the Cowboy. This is another book I’m looking forward to reading and one that is locked and loaded on my Palm reader. I’m thrilled to have Abby visit today, especially since she’s talking about some of my favorite things–rodeo and country fairs.

Thank you for having me here today, Shelley. It’s a pretty exciting time around my house lately. Not only has Consent to the Cowboy been released at Carina Press, but it’s also county fair time in my part of the country. To celebrate, I’d love to give away a copy of my book to one lucky person who leaves a comment today.

For me, county fair means rodeo time! These are small time rodeos where town favorites compete for the championship. Year after year, we attend and cheer on our favorite rider. From barrel racing, calf ropin’, bull ridin’, and team ropin’, every highlight of the rodeo draws a big crowd. Heck, if two hundred people show up, that means almost the whole town attended. We start’em young too. Our four year olds are sat atop the back of a calf and let loose within the ring. We grease up pigs and encourage our children to go catch their dinner.

Spirits run high, beer flows fast, and words take on more meaning. It is the one chance to meet with your neighbor who lives five miles away and get caught up on how their crops are growing, how many heads of cattle they are planning to run through the winter, and to catch up on the local gossip.

Behind the fencing, personal bets are taking place. Although, that’s not what we call it…it’s bartering. I’ll give you one goose for three laying hens if O’Reilly wins the next round! We always come home with new animals. Gotta watch out for some of them seasoned farmers though, they’ll hoist a mean rooster off on the innocent adults who have just begun their journey into country livin’.

The rodeo also means a stressful time for the women. We find out who is the best cook, the best pie baker, and who canned the most over the summer. We brag about how many nights we stayed up listening to the lids popping on the dill pickles sitting out on the counter, and we’ve sworn our man not to utter a word about the steak we burnt last week. Bad news like that stick in other women’s memories for a long time and you’ll forever be asked to bring a jello salad to the next potluck. You have to earn the right to bring a main dish, ya know.

I’ve attended quite a few fairs. Some are more centered around carnival rides, entertainment, and businesses trying to sell their products. I really enjoy them, but it’s the small local fairs that feel like a family reunion and gathering spot for the neighbors that I love the most.

Do you go to any fairs in the summertime? What kind of fair do you have in your area?

In Consent to the Cowboy, the first chapter takes place at a small town rodeo. You can read the first chapter of the book here.

Here’s the blurb for Consent to the Cowboy

Surrounded by beer-swilling, skirt-chasing cowboys her whole life, barmaid Daphne Norris has no intention of ever settling for any of the men in her Podunk hometown. So when bronc rider Will Hanson sends shock waves to her core with just one glance from his striking green eyes, no one is more surprised than her.

But Will is no ordinary cowboy, and he can see that Daphne is no ordinary small-town girl. He can sense in Daphne the quiet strength and devotion needed to satisfy a man like him, a man who needs to be on top, in every aspect of his life.

Daphne hasn’t ever succumbed to her submissive desires before, and Will awakens her in ways she never imagined. While she’s not prepared to give him her heart, she agrees to Will’s offer of three days of intense pleasure, and then she’s walking. But Daphne falls hard and fast, and now she has a decision: return to a normal life, or give up everything for Will…

Purchase Link

Multipublished author Abby Wood lives in the Pacific Northwest. A huge animal lover, she enjoys the many animals on her farm and the wild ones that roam the forest. In her free time, she loves to ride motorcycles, garden, go fishing and play tennis. She loves to write stories that allow readers to escape into a brand-new world.

You can find out more about Abby at www.authorabbywood.com, visit her Facebook page at www.facebook.com/AbbyWoodFanPage and follow her on Twitter at @MsAbbyWood.

Contest: Don’t forget – Abby is giving away a copy of Consent to the Cowboy. Just answer her question and one commenter will be chosen as the winner.

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My special guest today is debut author Kaily Hart. Her book Picture This came out at Ellora’s Cave on 29 June. Today Kaily is asking what makes a reader choose a book by a new author. I hope you’ll participate because I’m interested in your answers too.

Shelley, thanks so much for having me here today. It’s an honor and a pleasure to be able to share the same cyber space with you!

Being one (a new author that is), I’m particularly interested in this question. Especially the answers!! Honestly, we all know it’s an investment to buy a new author, essentially an unknown, unproven entity. It can be a risk, right? Personally, I have my own criteria when it comes to new authors and it usually involves something compelling. Something has to grab me, whether it’s the authors style or voice, something unique in the premise of the story, a favored story element or it could be as simple as a description or a line of dialogue that tugs at me from the blurb or excerpt.

I’ve never thought I was that influenced by reviews (because people have different tastes), but I’ve never bought a book on a bad review, either. I don’t think the title makes that much of a difference, although something ‘hoakey’ might give me pause. I have noticed the character names occasionally make me think, especially if I’ve known someone with the same name and the experience wasn’t a pleasant one. If there’s a perceived challenge to being able to relate to the character for some reason (name, occupation, situation or choices), I might really think hard about it because it might prevent me from being invested in that character.

Rightly or wrongly, I know I’m influenced by the book’s cover. It’ll catch my eye such that I might take the time to look at it further when otherwise I might have just skimmed over it. I try not to let a cover sway me though. I know that an author often doesn’t have a lot of say in the cover’s end result. Many times I’ll skim the blurb, but read the excerpt because it will give me a feel for the authors writing and style. Can I really read a whole book of this? I’ve also been known to flip through a book in the bookstore to about a third of the way through and just read a couple of pages. I also like to know that in the event I do buy the book and like the author, there’ll be more books! I’ll check out their website or blog to get a sense of that. Really, there are many factors that influence the book buying decision, especially for a new author, and it can be a very individual thing. Of course, I’m hoping Picture This has that something special to draw readers to this new author!

So… what makes YOU buy a new author?

BLURB:

Desperate and young, Jillian Moore did something she knew would one day come back to bite her in the ass. She’d posed nude. For money. Years later, and on the fast track to a successful career, she’s still haunted by her mistake. She can’t help but wonder when her past will catch up with her.

Samuel Steele is not short on female attention, but the women who warm his bed pale in comparison to the fantasy he’s created of the seductive temptress in the painting hanging prominently in his bedroom. A fantasy that has ruined his once satisfying sex life. When he discovers that her exact likeness works in his building—for him—things get…interesting.

EXCERPT:

It’d been sold, again, three months earlier. Private auction, anonymous bidder and there was no way for her to find out who’d bought it. All she knew for sure was that it’d been a man. It figured. Damn, she’d been close this time. Not that she would have been able to afford to make even one bid herself. It had opened at fifteen thousand and after some fast and furious bidding had finally gone for a cool seventy-five thousand—dollars. Jeez, she’d probably be paying off her student loans for another twenty years and some guy had dropped seventy-five grand on a picture?

Jillian sighed. She wasn’t even sure what she’d do if she could uncover the identity of the new owner. She’d kept telling herself she’d be able to buy it one day once she got established. She’d planned on it, she’d counted on it. It was why she’d tried her damndest to keep track of it for the past ten years. Her only hope now was that it would sit in some private collection, gathering dust and never see the light of day. Yeah, right. She’d never, ever been that lucky. All those years ago, who would have thought? Deep down though she’d known and it had plagued her ever since. When she least expected it, it was going to come back and bite her on the ass. She just knew it.

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CONTEST:

I’m giving one person a chance to win a copy of Kaily’s debut release, Picture This. All you need to do is answer Kaily’s question and I’ll pick one comment at random to win. I’ll post the winner’s name on Friday. Good luck!

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This week, I have a special guest–Kathleen Dienne, one of my fellow Carina Press authors. When I asked her to do a guest post, she volunteered to do a Thursday Thirteen. I think road trips with children sound quite interesting… Don’t forget to check out Kathleen’s new release Her Heart’s Divide!

Thirteen Things I Didn’t Know About Road Trips With Small Children

by Kathleen Dienne

Hello, Shelley readers! Your hostess, whose mountain of marvelous books is impressing the socks off this beginning author, was corresponding with me over author resources. She kindly invited me to contribute to this community.

To be honest, I’m kind of awkward in new communities. I didn’t used to be this way, but I decided to go pro with my writing (http://kathleendienne.com) at the exact same time that my sweet and tractable baby decided to become a toddler. As all you working moms (and if we’re moms, we’re working!) can attest, your world can get a little narrow when you’re trying to keep up with everything. I sure appreciate Shelley bringing me out of my cave to meet you :)

After my first book launched last month (Her Heart’s Divide), my husband and I decided to go on a family vacation. We hadn’t taken one since our son was born. We love road trips and living history, so the inaugural family trip was an eight hour drive to Dearborn, Michigan, and the Henry Ford museum and village.

All of you experienced parents are already laughing.

For those of you with no kids, read on.

1. Raisins seem like a wonderful car food, but they are not.

2. Anything that becomes sticky when you grind it into upholstery is a bad car food.

3. Especially bananas.

4. One should not feed a diaper-wearing toddler nothing but fruit for two hours.

5. If a small toy is dropped, you can find it by identifying the one spot no one in the car can reach without pulling over.

6. Every rest stop in Ohio looks identical. This will comfort your toddler and cause him to associate the graceful little dome with “getting out of the car.”

7. A child who sees the little dome as it passes by his window can be astonishingly loud.

8. There are a lot of eighteen-wheelers on our nation’s highways, and a toddler can say “Bye bye big truck!” to every… single… one of them.

9. You don’t think you can sing Old MacDonald’s Farm more than twenty times in a row until you’ve done it.

10. A child who wakes up if an ant sneezes can sleep through a storm beating down so hard that every vehicle on the road is forced to pull over and stop on the shoulder.

11. The hotel’s minifridge is just as fascinating as a costumed interpreter running a loom.

12. It is good to make time for a toddler to just run across a big lawn and shriek with glee.

13. If you’re genuinely trying to keep your kid happy and behaving well, pretty much everyone in the world wants to help you… so let them.

What are your favorite tips for toddler travel? Got any good disasters to share?

Her Heart’s Divide

Lila was a faithful, loyal wife.

Ryan was her sexy, loving husband.

And so was Jack…?

Jack, however, was her boss, not her husband—why was he claiming her as
his own? Lila had been passionately happy with Ryan for more than
seven years. Yes, there’d been a moment when she’d first been attracted to
Jack, but then she’d met his best friend, Ryan. They’d fallen in love and married.
Jack claimed that in his world, their attraction had led to the altar.

And now she was caught between two men—two husbands—in the wildest situation Lila could ever have imagined. But what she wasn’t imagining were the two men touching her, pleasing her, caressing her…

Purchase from Carina Press

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My special guest today is Natalie Acres who has a new release out today called Bridled and Branded. An intriguing title, isn’t it? Bridled and Branded is a a western MFM contemporary romantic suspense. I asked Natalie a little about her writing.

What attracts you to writing cowboy/western stories?

Give me a big green tractor, a cooler full of ice cold beer, and a couple of strong cowboys to toss a few hay bales around and I’m a happy girl. I love reading and writing about the sexiest of all men–cowboys.

Wow, sounds good to me. Where did you get the idea for your story Bridled and Branded?

My love for horses inspired Bridled and Branded. I’d love to read a western with a strong heroine steadfast in her commitment and love for training/showing horses but just as dedicated to her cowboy hero. Bridled and Branded materialized because this novella is the kind of short western romance I’d like to read.

What writing tip would you give to an aspiring writer just starting on their writing journey?

Believe in yourself.

Great advice! Tell us about Bridled and Branded.

Lynlee Lewis is an old-fashioned girl who might as well take the lead in a modern day romance. She met a boy, when he was just a boy. She fell in love, but he barely noticed. Now, Lynlee wants to place a woman’s brand on Blaine McCain, but will his past prevent her from staking a claim?

Lynlee’s storybook romance isn’t without its villains and obstacles. Add in the fact that Blaine rarely travels behind a bedroom door without company and Lynlee wonders why she’s so taken by the cowboy in the first place.

Throw in a deadly situation and Lynlee finds herself in the midst of danger when a knife is shoved against her throat. Worse still, the man behind the blade is traveling with a wife who is no stranger to Blaine McCain. And they want to turn Blaine’s life upside down with a package full of problems.

The following excerpt is unedited pending final approval:

“You wanted our attention,” Rhett began. “You got it. What do you want?”

Blaine released him. “Yeah, what’s so damn important that you’d go to this extreme?”

His eyes watered. “My Sarah Beth passed away last week.”

“She what?” Rhett asked, compassion settling in his eyes, which Blaine had rarely seen.

“She passed away.”

“What happened?” Blaine asked, feeling a little odd since he had been one of the participants in the ménage experience with Rhett and Sarah Beth.

“She jumped off a bridge,” Sarah Beth’s husband explained.

“She did what?”

“Told you she was touched in the head,” Rhett reminded Blaine.

“You’re the one who brought her home,” Blaine said, jumping to his feet and backing away before her husband took an opportunity to deck him. “She wasn’t even that pretty, best I remember.”

“Blaine McCain, I ought to kick your ass right here,” Lynlee said, studying her captor. “Sir, I’m sorry for your loss. I really am. It’s a shame these two didn’t have a gentleman’s sense of values to keep their cocks in their pants, if not their hands, but you see here, you can’t blame your wife’s actions on two men who barely knew her.”

“Lynlee, so help me God, I don’t need your eloquent way of taking up for me,” Blaine said.

“No, you don’t. What you need are some manners and maybe even a conscience, but I doubt you’ll find either tonight.”

Rhett snickered. “You got that right.”

Lynlee extended her hand. “I’m Lynlee Lewis, by the way. We met at the party, and you said your name is Scott Sanders, but I take it that’s not your real name?”

“Yes,” he said, taking her hand. “The name is Scott Sanders. Sarah Beth was my lovely wife.”

“Well, I’m sure she knew how much you loved her,” Lynlee said, backing away from the situation and making it evident in the finality of her tone. “Gentleman, I’ve had a long night. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Blaine looked at Rhett and then Scott. Rhett nodded and Blaine said, “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll say your peace and leave.”

Scott shifted his weight. “I wanted to look directly at the two men responsible for Sarah Beth’s downfall and see if I found even a smidgen of remorse. I blame you for what happened, and I can’t understand what she ever saw in either one of you.”

“Good thing,” Rhett said. “I don’t buck that way.”

Blaine ignored his friend and addressed his enemy. “I’m walking Lynlee back to her camper. If you go near her again,” he paused, set his jaw, and then grated out, “I will harm you in a way you’ll never forget.”

“I don’t want an escort, Blaine,” Lynlee snipped. “And I sure don’t need you to hold my hand.”

“Well, ain’t that a blessed shame? Besides, I need you to hold mine.”

Natalie Acres is the best selling author of the Cowboy Sex Series which includes Sex Party, Sex Games, and Sex Camp. She’s also the author of the #1 Amazon Best Selling Western/Erotica title Cowboy Boots and Untamed Hearts which now has a sequel, Cowboy Boots and Unfinished Business. To find out more about Natalie Acres, visit her on MySpace at www.myspace.com/natalieacres. To view more information on Bridled and Branded go to: http://www.bookstrand.com/bridled-and-branded

Copyright © 2010 Natalie Acres

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My special guest today is Madelyn Ford, author of My Avenging Angel. Check out Madelyn’s cover – isn’t it gorgeous? Today Madelyn is telling us how her story came to life….

My Avenging Angel was the little novella that almost didn’t get written. I was in the middle of edits with my first published novel, Faith Revisited, when just by chance, I had run across an open submission call for Samhain on a loop. It was for an Angels and Demons anthology, and since I write about angels, I thought it was a no brainer. Until I sat down to write the darn thing.

Having less than a month before it had to be turned in, I agonized over the story, uncertain even who I was going to write about. I was already in the middle of a story about the Archangel Gabriel, but knew it would far exceed the 30K limit, so that was put aside. I was discussing a book my friend Kris was reading, something that had to do with summoning a demon, and I said flippantly, “Wouldn’t it be funny if I wrote about a witch who accidently summoned the wrong angel.” And voila, My Avenging Angel was born.

Having never written a novella before, I spent the two weeks waiting to hear back in a state of complete anxiety. Novellas are a tricky beast, for them to really work, they have to be done well, and truthfully, I wasn’t certain I had accomplished that. This was Samhain, one of my dream publishers, so I waited. And waited. Nail biting ensued. The day I was supposed to hear back came and went. And nothing. I knew others had received rejections. They posted on that loop that they had and yet nothing showed up in my mailbox. Had they not received my manuscript? Had the rejection email gotten lost? I obsessively hit the refresh button until I could no longer keep my eyes open, and finally with a heavy heart, I went to sleep.

The next morning, the first thing I did was check my email and my heart sank to my toes. It had finally come, the rejection of all rejections. (Now I know where my oldest gets all her drama, lol) I was terrified to open the email, caught between fear and abject curiosity, and stared at it for several minutes. Then swallowing the huge lump in my throat, I clicked it open.

Thank you for giving Samhain Publishing the opportunity to review your work, My Avenging Angel, for possible publication. I really enjoyed your story and would like to extend an offer of publication for this manuscript for the Angels and Demons Anthology.

I paused, went back, read it again, and then sat in stunned silence. I seriously thought I must have read it wrong, so I read it again. This continued throughout the day. I must have read that email two dozen times, just to confirm I hadn’t dreamed it.

So for those of you who want to be published someday; you can’t have a career in writing if you don’t ever try. First write your book, it will be your greatest accomplishment. Then find yourself a really good critique partner. They are priceless. And finally keep submitting. All it takes is that one editor who has faith in your ms. Keep persisting and you’ll find him or her.

My Avenging Angel blurb:

To save her life, he must break a covenant—and lose his heart.

An Angels and Demons story.

It’s Victoria Bloom’s twenty-fifth birthday. But is she out celebrating? Oh, no. She’s in a stuffy old attic with the Three Stooges—a.k.a. her so-called spirit guides. There’s a demon who wants her dead, the same one that killed her mother two decades ago. No worries, say the Stooges. All she has to do is summon an angel. What could go wrong?

Well, plenty when you summon the wrong angel. The next thing Tory knows, she’s got one very bad-ass, pissed-off and sexy Archangel on her hands.

Michael, mighty warrior, leader of an elite team of demon killers, is shaking in his heavenly combat boots. Not because he finds all humans distasteful. But because he’d rather face Lucifer himself than the woman his soul has just recognized as his mate. Binding himself to a mortal, one who will eventually die, is the one path he’s sworn never to follow.

It’s too late now; his fate is sealed. With one touch, she becomes as necessary to him as the air he breathes. He will move heaven and earth to protect her—but against a demon as powerful as Asmodeus, heaven and earth may not be enough…

Warning: This book contains one bad-ass Archangel with a fiery, um, sword, a witch who blows things up, one nasty demon who is trying to kill them both, and ghosts who make interfering their mission. Steamy sex is had, even with the voyeur ghosts—though Tory is still blushing.

And here’s an excerpt:

Looking at the items around her, Victoria Bloom knew something was missing. She had the pentagram outlined in chalk on the old attic floor. At each point rested a large white candle, all of which was surrounded by a circle of protection. Ginseng burned on the makeshift altar, the scent so overpowering it almost gagged her. The Grimoire of Armadel was opened to the correct page. Ari, one of her spirit guides, insisted she was ready, but still she hesitated. The one thing Tory considered to be essential for the ritual to work was the very thing she lacked. Belief.

Funny really, considering Tory was a medium, meaning she saw ghosts, and she was preparing to perform an ancient ritual, all on the advice of a woman who had been dead for almost four centuries. But she couldn’t deny something had to be done. On her twenty-fifth birthday, her powers had begun to emerge, powers her guides would soon no longer be able to camouflage. Calling forth an angel, though, seemed a little extreme, even for her.

“Hurry up,” Ari whispered in Tory’s mind. “You don’t have all day.”

“Yes, the spell must be performed before the sun sets. You don’t want to accidentally call forth a demon, do you?” Sam prodded and Tory sighed. Sometimes she wondered what it would be like to be the only voice in her head.

“Boring,” Thomas added, his nasal tone a reprimand. “Now get the sigil drawn so we can get this over with.”

Tory snorted but didn’t bother arguing. It wouldn’t do her any good anyway. One of the three guides always seemed to have the last word.

In the center of the pentagram, she carefully copied the sigil from the ancient grimoire. The three stooges, something she had affectionately termed her guides when she’d been a child and continued because it annoyed them so much, had debated for days, poring over the book before finally coming up with a name. Tory would have picked the most powerful warrior to aid her but the stooges had been adamantly against her choice. It seemed even though Michael’s mission was to protect humans, he didn’t like them very much.

Setting the book aside, Tory picked up the dagger. With the stooges egging her on, she sliced the blade across her palm and gasped. It stung like a bitch. Eyes watering, both from the incense and the cut, she pressed her palm in the center of the sigil, leaving behind a bloody print. Then she moved out of the protective circle and began to chant, calling forth the angel Zadkiel. The words flowed from her, unknown and mysterious, a testament to how much power now flowed through her, energy Tory feared would be her downfall.

A blinding light burst forth within the center of the pentagram, causing her to draw a hand up to shield her eyes as the words faltered on her lips. Time seemed suspended. The rays illuminated every corner of the attic and Tory held her breath, fearing for the first time more than just the evil hunting her. As her body was enveloped within the white beams, she waited for the burn.

Slowly, the light dimmed and she was stunned to find herself unscathed. But still Tory hid her eyes behind her hand. Who knew what the hell stood on the other side. And since her father was, if the bastard still lived, a demon-worshiping warlock, hell was entirely possible.

“You foolish human. I was in the midst of an important meeting. Send me back. Now.”

Her hand fell from her face, her gaze latching onto the figure in the middle of the pentagram. Holy shit. It had worked. And he was huge. Close to seven feet tall with long black hair cascading around broad shoulders and rippling biceps. His arms were folded across his massive chest, fists clenched in obvious agitation, causing the veins to bulge prominently.

Visit Madelyn Ford’s website

Purchase My Avenging Angel from Samhain Publishing or from Amazon Kindle

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