Six Sentence Sunday

This is from my soon to be released The Swords of Gregara-Honora. I’m giving away a $5 Starbucks card to one lucky commenter and a paperback copy of my current release, TAME A WILD BRIDE to another, so be sure and leave a comment.

Six Sentence Sunday:

When he woke again he was not alone. Chained across the room from him, hung by her wrists, was a woman. He could see the lash marks on her back. Lash upon lash, new over old. They obstructed the beautiful tattoo of a dragon.

Crawling over to her, he released her hands from the chains holding her up.

An Interview with Norah Wilson

Help me welcome Norah Wilson to my blog to day. Her new book, Comes The Night will be available on December 1 and you’re seeing the cover here first. It ROCKS!

Please leave Norah a comment and be entered in to a drawing for a $10 gift card or an ebook. There will be two winners.

What genre(s) do you write in and why?

With my solo writing, I write romantic suspense and paranormal romance. But I’ll tell you a secret – the paranormal romance is just romantic suspense with the addition of supernatural beings.  At least that’s my approach. As for the why of it, I love how the strong external plot gives me something to hang the romance on. Straight up contemporary romance is my first love, but when I tried to write it, I found it positively exhausting trying to come up with stuff for them to do. The strong suspense plot gives them plenty to worry about, and the romantic development becomes so much easier once I’ve thrown them together in a high stakes battle. You know the axiom that true character is revealed under pressure? When I throw them into this crucible, the characters come to know each other’s character on a very fundamental level in a relatively short time. That totally appeals to me!
I also write young adult paranormal with writing partner Heather Doherty. Again, that fast-paced, suspenseful plot really helps! Heather and I also write the laugh-out-loud Dix Dodd cozy mystery series. I can find no explanation for that. LOL! You’d have to read one.

Tell us about your current series.

My best selling series right now is the Serve and Protect Series, which are romantic suspense stories featuring sexy police detectives (with a police K-9 handler thrown in there). I guess you’d call them women in jeopardy stories, if you feel the need to pigeonhole them. But that doesn’t mean my heroines are shrinking violets. They are strong, smart women who just happen to find themselves in situations where they need protection.

Also doing reasonably well is my Vampire Romance series. I wish I could entice more of my romantic suspense fans over to the dark side, since these books really are nail-biting suspenses.

What is your next project and when will it be released?

It’s a joint project with my writing partner, Heather Doherty. By December 1, 2012, we expect to have the first book in our Casters series of YA paranormal/horror launched. It’s called Comes the Night, and it’s sooo scary. We’ve created a whole new entity. Three girls who are sent to a boarding school which is just one step away from jeuvie find a way to escape their pain by literally escaping from their bodies. There are four books planned in the series, to be released over the course of 2013.

How has your experience with self-publishing been?

It’s been extraordinary. I got in early – the summer of 2010. I was – and still am – agented, but I had a number of books that had already made the rounds of appropriate traditional publishers, with no takers. I came to the conclusion that they were never going to sell to New York and I had nothing to lose by self-publishing them. Well, with the possible exception of my reputation. At that point, self-publishing was still pretty much synonymous with vanity publishing. But I’d been listening with great interest to fellow author Delle Jacobs, who is the first author I knew personally to take the plunge. I figured if it was good enough for Delle, for whom I have enormous admiration, it was good enough for me. Sales started slow, but about six months in, they exploded. Apple was the first market I penetrated with any substantial numbers, and they are still a very important market for me, but after I put my free loss leader short novella on Amazon and they price-matched it to free, my Amazon sales came on very nicely. At this point, I’m not out there leading the indie pack, but I’m comfortably somewhere in the middle. 

Right now, I’m fortunate enough now to have a book out with Montlake Romance (Every Breath She Takes, Sept. 2012), and I’m thrilled with what that has done for my indie sales.

Tell us about your hero. Give us one of his strengths and one of his weaknesses.

I love talking about my heroes! Since your focus is indie, I’ll talk about John Quigley, or Quigg, from Guarding Suzannah, the first book in my Serve and Protect series. Quigg is strong, protective and sexily capable, but he may also be the least Alpha hero I’ve written. In a lot of ways, he’s smarter, more patient and better adjusted than a lot of those out-and-out Alphas who can sometimes go off with very little provocation. He’s the son of a laborer and sees the heroine, Suzannah, the daughter of a chief justice, as somewhat out of his league. Suzannah, a criminal defence attorney, is also abhorred by his colleagues on the police force for her habit of demolishing them on the witness stand. When Quigg discovers Suzannah has a stalker, he has to walk a fine line between solidarity with his colleagues and his need to protect this beautiful, independent woman who refuses to make an official complaint to a police force she half suspects is behind the harassment. When she refuses to go to police, he appoints himself as her protector, whether she wants it or not. Of course, with his patience and steadiness, he turns out to be the perfect match for the sexually and romantically skittish Suzannah.

Do you have any words of inspiration for aspiring authors?

Absolutely. Don’t give up. There are more avenues than ever before for authors to succeed. But even with the self-publishing avenue open to anyone who wants to take it, there will be challenges. Discoverability in a world where shelf space has become unlimited is the new mountain to be scaled. I know lots of amazing authors who toil in relative obscurity. But here’s the thing – if you self publish, you can have a successful career writing to a relatively small niche. For instance, New York has pretty much declared the romantic suspense dead, and only the superstars of the genre continue to sell at a clip that will support a traditional publishing career. Traditional publishing requires a blockbuster of a book to make it a profitable undertaking. But as an indie, there are more than enough romantic suspense fans to support my books. And for readers, the genre has been revitalized by the indie movement, with more choice than ever before. So yes, it’s a challenge, but you can target a niche market and write to it. Work on your craft. Deliver a quality product. Work with an editor. Commission a cover that looks great in thumbnail and which SCREAMS the genre. Make it available on as many platforms as you can. Build you fan base with another book and another book.

Thank you for hosting me, Cynthia. It’s been a blast!

Excerpt from Guarding Suzannah (Serve and Protect Series, #1)

She looked so thoroughly disheartened, way beyond what a flat tire should cause. “Relax, Princess.” He pushed away from the pillar. “I’ll change your tire, have you on your way in five minutes.”

“Don’t bother,” she clipped. “I’ll call CAA.”

“Hey, I can handle this. Besides, with any luck, I’ll get dirt or grease all over me and won’t have to go back in there.” He indicated stately Old Government House with a nod of his head.

“Thanks for the offer, but I don’t have room in my trunk for four spares.”

“Four?” He blinked at her. “They can’t all be flat.”

“They can if they’ve been slashed.”

Quigg shot a look at the valet, who nodded a confirmation, then retreated back to his station.

He gripped her elbow. “What’s going on, Suzannah?”

Calmly, she removed her arm from his grip. “Nothing that’s not par for the course, Detective.”

“Jesus, your tires are slashed and you don’t even bat an eyelash?”

She opened her ridiculously tiny beaded purse and pulled out an even tinier cell phone. Seconds later, she was talking to the CAA dispatcher. Cripes, she had the auto association on her speed dial? He listened as she gave her situation and her location.

“Wanna explain what’s going on here?” he asked as she tucked the phone away again.
She shrugged, an elegant lift of the shoulder. “Just the cost of doing a little criminal Legal Aid in this town.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? And why wasn’t your first call to the cops, especially if this isn’t the first time it’s happened?”

“The police.” She laughed, a surprisingly grating sound that lacked real amusement. “Yeah, that’d work.”

Quigg sucked a breath in through his teeth. “You think cops did this?”

She arched a delicate eyebrow. “Congratulations, Detective. I’ll bet you graduated top of your class.”

“No.”

“No? Gosh, with those deductive powers, I’d have –”

He stepped closer. “No, it wasn’t a cop who did this.”

Her bosom lifted on a long inhalation, but she didn’t huff out an impatient sigh as he half expected.

“Look, I’ve been around the block a few times, Detective. I know I haven’t endeared myself to you guys. I also know you stick together –”

“But not like this –”

“Hey, I understand. Really. The blue wall. You’re charged with enforcing what amounts to a pretty puritanical code, one that abhors improprieties like drunkenness or lewdness. So you avoid those social situations where you might make a hypocrite of yourself. Then, before you know it, your social sphere includes nothing but other cops.”

“Can I just say –”

“It’s okay. I totally get it. You put that uniform on, that badge, and it isolates you from your friends, from your community, even from the legal system. Which sets up the us/them solidarity thing. So when a guy gets a rough ride from me on the stand, of course the rest of you are going to empathize pretty strongly with him.”

“Thank you, Dr. Phelps, for that lesson on police sub-culture. But read my lips – it wasn’t one of us slashed your tires.”

Black Friday Shopping – NEVER

I’m giving away a $5 Starbucks card to one lucky commentor and a paperback copy of Tame A Wild Bride to another. In order to qualify for the Grand Prizes listed below you must leave your EMAIL ADDRESS IN THE COMMENT.

I know people who get up at Midnight to hit those first Black Friday sales. That’s INSANE. What in the world is worth that? Are the deals and the attitudes you encounter worth that? Not to this person. Maybe I’ve never wanted anything that badly.

I hear the horror stories not only from the nightly news but from friends and family who brave the wilds of the shopping malls or Walmart, to save $50 on an iPod or something. I suppose $50 off an iPod would be a really BIG discount but is it worth standing in line, in the cold with a bunch of cranky strangers?

Not to this girl.

How about you? Do you shop on Black Friday? Why?

We have THREE grand prizes. You as a reader can go to EACH blog and comment with your email address and be entered to win. Yep, you can enter over 200 times! Don’t forget that in order to enter for these prizes you must LEAVE YOUR EMAIL ADDRESS IN THE COMMENT.

Now what are those prizes?

1st Grand Prize: A Kindle Fire or Nook Tablet
2nd Grand Prize: A $75 Amazon or B&N Gift Card
3rd Grand Prize: A Swag Pack that contains paperbacks, ebooks, 50+ bookmarks, cover flats, magnets, pens, coffee cozies, and more!

Here is a short excerpt from my latest book TAME A WILD BRIDE. I hope you all have a great time today, whatever you choose to do.

EXCERPT
Rosemary Stanton stood patiently on the train platform, sweat rolling down her back and between her ample breasts. Waiting. Sweating because it was an unusually hot day in late April. Waiting for her husband. A husband she wouldn’t recognize if he were standing right next to her.

She’d been desperate when she answered the advertisement for a mail order bride. Wanted: Single woman to cook, clean, and care for children on a cattle ranch in southwestern Colorado. Will marry upon arrival.

Well, she was twenty-six with no prospects. Her brother just got married and his new wife, Beatrice, didn’t want Rosie around. She could answer the advertisement or become a governess. Help someone else’s children grow up into adults. Live in someone else’s house. For the rest of her life, she’d have nothing she could call her own.

Rosie wanted a home. Her own home. She wanted a husband and children. All the things she’d never have if she stayed in Philadelphia. When she’d seen the ad in the morning paper, she’d nearly shouted with glee. However, she managed to restrain herself until she retired to her room before she giggled with delight as she pressed her back against the door. The advertisement was tailor-made for her needs. It got her away from Beatrice and got her her own home all in one fell swoop.

Her brother, Robert, though was not happy with the idea of his baby sister traveling across the country to marry a stranger. He grudgingly agreed to give her her dowry to take with her. Five thousand dollars. She’d take the draft to the bank as soon as she arrived in Creede, Colorado, and married Mr. Thomas Harris. Cattle rancher. It was her “in case it doesn’t work out” money. Though she supposed it would belong to her husband once she married. Perhaps she just wouldn’t tell him about it.

Her conscience spoke up. That’s no way to start a marriage. With lies and secrets. Oh, all right. She’d tell him and have him take her to the bank. But not until after she’d taken his measure. She could tell by how he treated his animals what kind of man he was. A man who was cruel to his horses would also be cruel to his wife. If he was a cruel man, she would leave and she sure as heck wouldn’t tell him about her money.

Even the substantial size of her dowry couldn’t seem to provide marriage prospects for Rosie back in Philadelphia. She wasn’t pretty in the conventional sense. She thought her face with its big brown eyes and full lips was pleasing enough, but men apparently hadn’t. Her one beau told her that her eyes were the color of warm brandy. That was before he left her to marry another more suitable woman. More suitable, hah! Richer was more like it.

He’d had expensive tastes and had married a rabbit-faced girl, heir to a substantial fortune to which he’d have access. Well, good luck and good riddance.

She hoped her new husband wouldn’t be as snootish as Paul had been. As a cattle rancher she didn’t know what to expect but the idea of a more earthy, less frivoless man appealed to her.

Rosie did have one extraordinary feature. Her hair. Waist length, wavy and a clear, golden blonde. Right now, standing on the train platform in Creede it was bound up in a loose bun on top of her head under her hat. It, like the rest of her, was covered in white dirt and a nasty grayish soot from the train. Her suit would never be the same again.

She’d discovered on the second day of her trip, she could minimize the grime by sitting in the front of the car with the window closed. But sooner or later the heat and mugginess of the car would force her to open the window. The air came rushing in, cooling her, but bringing with it the dirt and ash from the train’s boilers and whatever the wind picked up along the way.

On the long trip, she’d told herself again and again she’d made the right decision. She was right to make the difficult trip. This was her life and she had to take her future into her own hands.

“Excuse me. Miss Stanton?”

Rosie shaded her eyes from the late afternoon sun and looked up at a tall man with dark hair. His hat was pulled low, hiding his eyes. He had a strong jaw covered with a shadow of whiskers.

“Yes. I’m Rosemary Stanton.”

He took off his hat and held out his hand. “I’m Tom Harris.”

Rosie took his hand. It engulfed hers with a shock of warmth. Her pale skin stood in stark contrast to his tanned one. Calluses rubbed against her soft palm though the touch was not unpleasant. She looked from their clasped hands up into the bluest eyes she’d ever seen.

“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Harris.”

“Tom. Call me, Tom.”

“And I’m Rosie.”

“Where are your trunks, Rosie?”

“Oh, I don’t have any trunks. I only brought what I thought I would need out here.”
He picked up the two valises at her feet. “Doesn’t seem like much for an Eastern woman. I’m glad to see you’re practical.”

Rosie felt the heat in her cheeks and knew she blushed at his praise, undeserving as it was. “Well, I didn’t think you’d have any balls.”

He cocked an eyebrow.

Purchase Links

Amazon

Barnes & Noble

Smashwords

Apple

When reality collides with fantasy… or why I love to write paranormal.

Please help me welcome Lynn Cahoon to my blog today. Lynn will be giving away an ecopy of The Bull Riders Brother to one lucky commenter so be sure and leave her a comment.

When things get too busy for me and I haven’t dealt with the problem in my conscious mind, I have a dream. It’s the too-many-puppies dream. I’m in charge of all these cute little puppies (or kittens) and they just keep taking off on me. I just get one corralled and another one disappears.
I had that dream last night. But I didn’t realize it was the too many puppies dream until much later after I had started my day. Because I’d upped the plot line. There was a plane crash, and a secret coin with magical powers, and, my too-many-puppies dream had morphed into a better story. One where your choices are between suck and suckier.
And that’s the life of an author, when your dreams are even in revision mode.
Parris McCall knows the dream. She banished fantasy out of her life the day her folks died in a car crash. Now, it’s reality. Who cares if she’s different? As long as she keeps her bar running smoothly, she doesn’t have to worry about the weird things that happen around her. At least, until Ty Wallace walks into her bar one night. One kiss and she knows she wants more. So when her Grans gets a letter and needs some legal help, Parris knows who to call in to help.
And the puppies start running.
So do you have a stress dream?

BIO – Lynn Cahoon is a contemporary romance author with a love of hot, sexy men, real and imagined. Her alpha heroes range from rogue witch hunters to modern cowboys. And her heroines all have one thing in common, their strong need for independence. Or at least that’s what they think they want. She blogs at her website, A Fairy Tale Life. www.lynncahoon.wordpress.com
Blurb –
A rogue hunter, a clueless witch and a mission to save an unknowing world.

Parris McCall, owner of the dive bar, The Alibi, has finally constructed a life where her little quirks don’t show or matter to anyone. As for her grandmother’s warnings that she’s different, well, she’ll cross that bridge if she comes to it. But when Ty walks into her bar, both lives are instantly changed.

Ty Wallace loves his life. How could he not? He’s a powerful human lawyer by day and the Magic Council’s rogue witch hunter by night. But after he agrees to substitute on his
secretary’s dart team, all hell breaks loose. Now Ty has to help Parris admit who she is before her long-lost relatives kill her.

A Lyrical Press Paranormal Romance

Excerpt –
“Sally knows how to recruit a substitute.” Parris looked in his brown eyes, juggling her darts. “You’ve never played before?”
Ty shot her a smile designed to melt the coldest of hearts. Yes, he knew what he was doing all right. At least in the flirting department. Parris’ knees felt weak looking at him.
“I swear. I’ve never played league before. Beginners luck.” Ty motioned to the dart machine. “You ready or you want to throw a few practice darts?”
Parris’ eyes narrowed. Ha. He’d said he’d never played league before, not ever played before. Sally had brought in a ringer. Confident, she shook her head. “I’m ready to get this over.”
“Pretty sure of yourself aren’t you?” Ty tilted his head to the side, watching her reaction.
“You don’t have to be cocky when you’re good.”
“And you think you’re good?” Ty pressed. “A natural?”
She frowned, her face crinkling. “I have a lot of free time on my hands here when there’s nothing to do except practice.”
Another couple hours and Ty Wallace would be out of her sight, her bar, and her life. She wished erasing him from her thoughts and dreams would be as easy.

Buy it now at AMAZON.

Six Sentence Sunday

From my new WIP, The Capital Bride.

On the other side of the door was her last resort. Either this or prostitution and prostitution was not a choice. She couldn’t raise MaryAnn in that environment, nor if truth be told, could she lower herself to live like that. At least this way there would be some stability in her little girl’s life.

Sarah turned the knob, took a deep breath and walked through the door to a better future for her daughter and, if she was lucky, for herself.

The office was small and neat.

Leave me a comment for a chance to win a copy of Tame A Wild Bride, ebook or paperback. Ebook includes international. Paperback is for US only

An Interview with Mara Jacobs

Help me welcome Mara Jacobs to my blog today. Mara has generously offered to give away 3 ebook copies of her book to 3 commentors so be sure and leave her a comment.

What genre(s) do you write in and why?

I write 2 series that are romantic mystery series, as well as contemporary romance. I like my happy endings!

Tell us about your current series.

The Worth Series is a contemporary romance series featuring three life-long girlfriends who are now in their mid-thirties. Subtitles are The Nice One, The Pretty One, and The Smart One. Each woman was pegged with their title in school and in some ways it has shaped the women they’ve become —and yet they’re so much more.

What inspired your latest book?

Worth the Drive, the second Worth book, was totally inspired by my long-time crush on professional golfer Jose Maria Olazabal. Very fun to play out that fantasy!

How much time do you spend promoting your books? What works best for you?

This is very new to me—I just debuted with my indie books in October—so I’m still feeling out what works. I’ve done some ads, some blogs, and the usual social media outlets. I truly believe that the best promotion is getting the next book out, so I’ve really tried to concentrate on spending my time writing.

How has your experience with self-publishing been?

So far, so good. My agency, Writers House, was offering the expertise of a self-publishing service to their authors if they were interested. I decided to do my first 3 books through them, and my 3 Worth books myself so I could compare and contrast the experiences. I’ve found pros and cons to both venues—timing and control being a pro of doing it all yourself. And of course the time taken away from writing by doing it all yourself (or hiring those to do things like formatting, cover art for you) is a major con. It’s been an interesting process and I learn something new about it all everyday.

What advice do you have for other authors wanting to self-publish?

Weigh out time vs. money when deciding what to do yourself and what to hire out. Is it time that would serve you better in the long run by writing the next book instead of spending time learning to format, etc? Having said that, I do believe you HAVE to get professional looking covers and editing done from an outside source unless you have strong graphic design skills.

Do you have critique partners?

Yes, and they have been instrumental in my continuing to write. They are both very different (and awesome!) writers and bring different things to the table on the critiques they do. Hopefully I do the same for them. One of our three-some is multi-published with the major houses as well as self-published and a great wealth of information on the publishing industry.

What is your favorite dessert/food?

Red Velvet Cheesecake from the Cheesecake Factory. Thank God I don’t have one near me!

What is most difficult for you to write? Characters, conflict or emotions? Why?

Probably conflict, because I honestly believe that we’re sometimes our own biggest conflict. Internal conflict, to me, is more human that outside conflict – at least in contemporary times. And yet, a book with ONLY internal conflict may not be everybody’s cup of tea. So, the hard part for me is balancing internal conflict (which is easy for me) with external conflict (which is not so easy).

Give us an elevator pitch for your book.

For Worth The Weight: Woman loses half her body weight and heads to her hometown to try out her new body on an old flame.

What are you currently working on?

The third Worth book, Worth The Fall, is just wrapping up and I’ll have it out right around Christmas.


Excerpt

“God, I love the smell of theater popcorn, there’s nothing else like it.”

Finn Robbins heard the female voice from behind him. He couldn’t say the same. The smell of fresh popcorn made him sick. It seemed the aroma stayed with him wherever he was, the buttery stuff burning into his nose with every breath. It was enough to make him puke.

It’d been okay when he’d worked here years ago, but this time around it was too much. Everything was too much.

Something about the voice made him turn. Three women stood at the concession stand counter, one of the new high school kids waiting on them. Finn had his head buried, connecting a new Coke tank. The old tank had just died, spraying Coke all over his white shirt. Just another sign that the universe was having a good laugh at him.

He checked out the women. Mostly all he saw were packs of kids and couples at the theater. It was refreshing to see a group of thirty-something women together. The two he could see were striking, but in very different ways. Completely opposite in looks. The first was tall and Nordic looking, and strikingly beautiful. A Viking princess. The other was all soft curves, darker skin and hair, but still blonde. A dark Finlander and a light Finlander, the two mainstays of the Copper Country.

There was something a little familiar about them. Maybe they came to the theaters often? He dismissed that. He’d have definitely remembered the Viking.

The woman behind the two got her order and turned, allowing Finn to see only a flash of long black hair ending just above a wonderfully lush butt. He tried craning his neck, but from where he stood he couldn’t get a clear view of her.

Those damn high school kids were too fast. They had the women’s orders done before Finn had a chance to get out from behind the counter and get a proper look. He wanted to figure out where he knew the two from, and definitely wanted to see the third.

There was something about that voice. Maybe he could catch a glimpse of them after the movie as they left the theater.

Lizzie Hampton couldn’t concentrate on the movie, which was unusual. She, Katie and Alison had been seeing movies at the Mine Shaft together since sixth grade when they were finally allowed to go without parental supervision.

One parent would drop the three girls off in downtown Houghton. They would see the movie, then cross the street to the Big Boy for a hot fudge ice cream cake. One of the other girls’ parents would pick them up in front of the Big Boy exactly one and one-half hours after the movie was scheduled to get out. In that time, the girls would dissect the movie while plying themselves with the decadent dessert.

Over time, the girls’ critiques of the movies went from “isn’t he dreamy” to “the use of the wide angle lens by the director was really effective.” Although isn’t he dreamy never really went out of style. They had progressed from parents’ pick up and delivery service, to being old enough to walk on their own, to driving their parents’ cars, to driving their own.

Now they were back to walking across the bridge from Hancock to Houghton, but this time for the exercise. The Big Boy had long closed down, but Lizzie fully expected the Pavlovian response of craving hot fudge the moment the credits rolled.

Except tonight, she wasn’t immersed in the movie. “He didn’t even know me. Not a flicker of recognition,” she said out loud, as much to herself as her friends.

“SSSHHHHH,” came a voice from behind them.

Amazon Buy Link – http://amzn.com/B009MZQMAQ

BIO

After graduating from Michigan State University with a degree in advertising, Mara spent several years working at daily newspapers in Advertising sales and production. This certainly prepared her for the world of deadlines!

Most authors say they’ve been writing forever. Not so with Mara. She always had the stories, but they played like movies in her head. A few years ago she began transferring the movies to pages. She writes mysteries with romance, thrillers with romance, and romances with…well, you get it.

Forever a Yooper (someone who hails from Michigan’s glorious Upper Peninsula), Mara now resides in the East Lansing, Michigan, area where she is better able to root on her beloved Spartans.

Excerpt from Gnome for the Holidays by Jennifer Zane

Welcome, my friend Jennifer Zane to my blog today. Jennifer will be giving away one of her ebooks (winners choice) to one lucky commentor today, so be sure to leave her a comment.

Thanks, Cynthia for having me here today! I was at one of the big box hardware stores last month—before Halloween, mind you, and all, ALL of the Christmas decorations were out. Now, a week before Thanksgiving, I drive around and see more holiday lights up every day. Needless to say, no matter where you live in the US, it seems Christmas is starting earlier and earlier. (All those election ads on TV- the only thing positive about them is they delayed the inevitable onslaught of holiday commercials by at least a week!)

Since everyone is getting into the holiday spirit now (forget Thanksgiving!), I think my new book release is right on time. Gnome For The Holidays is the third book in the Gnome Novel Series. Some of the same great characters make a return appearance—yes, Goldie and her meddling, for a holiday story of humor and matchmaking.

I hope your holiday season is wonderful—no matter when it starts for you.
Jennifer Zane

Here is an excerpt from Gnome For The Holidays, on sale now at Amazon and AllRomanceEbooks.com.

“MeMe Hardy. It’s been too long!” Goldie called to me as I stomped my boots. She was the owner of Goldilocks, the local, and only, adult store in town. She’d opened it well before I was born and it was practically a historic landmark, although I’m sure Goldie wouldn’t appreciate that description. It sold anything and everything sex related, from condoms to crotchless panties to fingertip vibrators. Even in a town of less than thirty thousand, business boomed.

I winced at the childhood nickname. When I turned eighteen and went away to college in California, I was able to shed that moniker and take on my given name, Emma. But there were a few die-hards in town still that remembered me when I was three and couldn’t say my own name right. I’d been back in town six years and was pushing thirty, but I’d still be MeMe to some. My mother, my aunt Sissy, a silly name in its own right, and Goldie.

“Sorry I’m late,” I tell Goldie and Violet, both behind the counter, piles of what looked like lingerie spread out before them. I pulled my knit cap from my head and tucked my blond hair behind my ears, taming the static out of it.

My friend Violet looked at me trying not to laugh and mouthed, “MeMe?”

I rolled my eyes at her. “I got stuck behind a snow plow.”

Goldie nodded as she took her glasses off her nose and let them dangle over her ample bosom by a sparkly, rhinestone covered chain about her neck. “That’s the safest place to be on a day like this. What can I get for you today?” Goldie looked me over, as if by looking at me she could guess just what I needed. “A new bra.”

Oh, great. She could see gravity setting in through my heavy winter coat.

She rubbed her chin. “No, you’re here for a vibrator.”

I could feel my cheeks heat at her words but I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Nope,” I answered as I shook my head, leaving her hanging. Talking vibrators with Goldie, who was friendly with my mom, was just about as bad as talking about it with my mom herself. Not that the vibrator in my bedside stand couldn’t use an update, or at least new batteries, but I wasn’t planning on telling her that.

“No vibrator for me today, Goldie. Thanks though.” I smiled brightly.

“Well, just give me a call when you’re ready and I’ll pick out a top of the line model for you. You know,” she waggled her eyebrows and twirled her finger in the air, “the one that has that spinning middle.”

My mouth fell open at the thought. I wasn’t sure if I should be mortified or intrigued at the very idea.

The Diabolical Plans of the Pirate Jean Lafitte of River Road

Please help me welcome Suzanne Johnson to my blog today. Suzanne is interviewing a characher from her novel River Road. Be sure and leave her a comment to be entered into the prize drawing. She’s giving away the winner’s choice of a signed print book or ebook of either River Road or the first book in the series, Royal Street, US and Canada.

The Diabolical Plans of the Pirate Jean Lafitte of River Road

(as told to Suzanne Johnson)

Bonjour, mes amies. Je m’appelle Jean…Bah. You wish this to be in English? (Makes snarly face at the lowly author transcribing his words onto a laptop, who nods.)

Very well. My name is Jean Lafitte, and in the year 1806, as a young man of twenty-six, I arrived in the city of New Orleans—Nouvelle Orleans sounds so much nicer, do you not think? (Lowly author nods, since she has learned it’s much easier to just agree with whatever he says.)

Within a decade, I became the most famous privateer to sail the waters of the Gulf of Mexico and had a thousand men at my command on the coast of Louisiana. (Lowly author pipes up: Most people know you as a pirate.)

Bah. History has called me a pirate, but I simply took what belonged to the Spanish, and they are mongrels, oui? You must stop interrupting me, Jolie. (Lowly author swoons slightly at the endearment, issued in a deep, husky baritone with sexy accent.)

Now, where was I? Ah, oui. I was quite the handsome man, and many women wished to enjoy my company. As I am quite kind and considerate, I attempted to accommodate as many as possible. (Lowly author rolls eyes.)

Of course, my human life reached an unfortunate end. But imagine my surprise when—voila!—I was given a second, immortal life through the power of human memory. Now, I one of a group of formerly famous individuals known as the Historical Undead.

What do I do with my unlimited time, one might ask? Before the hurricane named Katrina, the borders between the Beyond, where I live along with other members of the Historical Undead (as well as such unsavory creatures as vampires and elves), were enforced by the wizards. If I wish to enter modern New Orleans to conduct business or enjoy the company of a young lady, I was forced to wait for someone with magical abilities to summon me. Often, these were strange young people who expected me to look like someone they call “Johnny Depp” or “Jack Sparrow.” I do not know these blackguards, although I issue an open invitation to duel with this Captain Sparrow or Monsieur Depp should either be brave enough to face me. (Lowly author considers trying to explain such newfangled things as movies, but decides against it.)

And as soon as I set foot into modern New Orleans, the local wizard sentinel would chase me down and send me back to the Beyond. How was a privateer to conduct business when he must constantly elude capture by a wizard?

Yet I have devised a plan. The current sentinel, a lovely young woman named Drusilla, is quite susceptible my considerable charmes romantique. I shall be plying her with my charm in order to establish my local business with the mermen of New Orleans. We will have a very profitable trade of goods between the Beyond and modern New Orleans.

I shall become even wealthier and more powerful. And if the wizardess DJ rejects my advances, of course, will be forced to take action. For to refuse the famous pirate Jean Lafitte? It could be deadly, n’est-ce pas?

(Lowly author points out that if he kills the heroine of this urban fantasy series before the first book is released, it will be a very short series indeed.)

Blurb/Book Description for RIVER ROAD:>

Hurricane Katrina is long gone, but the preternatural storm rages on in New Orleans. New species from the Beyond moved into Louisiana after the hurricane destroyed the borders between worlds, and it falls to wizard sentinel Drusilla Jaco and her partner, Alex Warin, to keep the preternaturals peaceful and the humans unaware. But a war is brewing between two clans of Cajun merpeople in Plaquemines Parish, and down in the swamp, DJ learns, there’s more stirring than angry mermen and the threat of a were-gator.
Wizards are dying, and something—or someone—from the Beyond is poisoning the waters of the mighty Mississippi, threatening the humans who live and work along the river. DJ and Alex must figure out what unearthly source is contaminating the water and who—or what—is killing the wizards. Is it a malcontented merman, the naughty nymph, or some other critter altogether? After all, DJ’s undead suitor, the pirate Jean Lafitte, knows his way around a body or two.
It’s anything but smooth sailing on the bayou as the Sentinels of New Orleans series continues.

Excerpt:

The minute hand of the ornate grandfather clock crept like a gator stuck in swamp mud. I’d been watching it for half an hour, nursing a fizzy cocktail from my perch inside the Hotel Monteleone. The plaque on the enormous clock claimed it had been hand- carved of mahogany in 1909, about 130 years after the birth of the undead pirate waiting for me upstairs.
They were both quite handsome, but the clock was a lot safer.
The infamous Jean Lafitte had expected me at seven. He’d summoned me to his French Quarter hotel suite by courier like I was one of his early nineteenth-century wenches, and I hated to destroy his pirate-king delusions, but the historical undead don’t summon wizards. We summon them.
I’d have blown him off if my boss on the Congress of Elders hadn’t ordered me to comply and my co-sentinel, Alex, hadn’t claimed a prior engagement.
At seven thirty, I abandoned my drink, took a deep breath, and marched through the lobby toward the bank of elevators.
On the long dead-man-walking stroll down the carpeted hallway, I imagined all the horrible requests Jean might make. He’d saved my life a few years ago, after Hurricane Katrina sent the city into freefall, and I hadn’t seen him since. I’d been desperate at the time. I might have promised him unfettered access to modern New Orleans in exchange for his assistance. I might have promised him a place to live. I might have promised him things I don’t even remember. In other words, I might be totally screwed.
I reached the door of the Eudora Welty Suite and knocked, reflecting that Jean Lafitte probably had no idea who Eudora Welty was, and wouldn’t like her if he did. Ms. Welty had been a modern sort of woman who wouldn’t hop to attention when summoned by a scoundrel.
He didn’t answer immediately. I’d made him wait, after all, and Jean lived in a tit- for- tat world. I paused a few breaths and knocked harder. Finally, he flung open the door, waving me inside to a suite plush with tapestries of peach and royal blue, thick carpet that swallowed the narrow heels of my pumps, and a plasma TV he couldn’t possibly know how to operate. What a waste.
“You have many assets, Drusilla, but apparently a respect for time is not among them.” Deep, disapproving voice, French accent, broad shoulders encased in a red linen shirt, long dark hair pulled back into a tail, eyes such a cobalt blue they bordered on navy. And technically speaking, dead.
He was as sexy as ever.

Author Bio:
Suzanne Johnson writes urban fantasy and paranormal romance from Auburn, Alabama, after a career in educational publishing that has spanned five states and six universities. She grew up halfway between the Bear Bryant Museum and Elvis’ birthplace and lived in New Orleans for fifteen years, so she has a highly refined sense of the absurd and an ingrained love of SEC football and fried gator on a stick.

Autumn’s Harvest Blog Hop

What do you think of when you think of autumn or fall? I think of crisp evenings and warm days. Of new clothes for school and Halloween.

It’s my favorite time of year. Autumn. I’m a September baby and my birthday is usually the first day of fall, so I guess I was predestined to like autumn the best. I love the smell of fall, portending the coming of Ol’ Man Winter. I love the changing colors of the leaves and even putting my garden to bed before winter is upon us.

I still buy new clothes in the fall. Like I’m still getting ready for school. Only now, I get to buy what I like, not just what fits. I was extremely lucky as a child because my mother could sew. I would show her what I wanted in a magazine and she could make it for me. She made her own patterns, so the sky was the limit. Of course, she had to approve it as well. My dresses were always longer than the current fashion of miniskirts, but now that I think back to it, she always dressed me well. The other kids didn’t tease me about my clothes because they were just like theirs. I was a fat kid so I didn’t have the choices that the other kids did when it came to buying clothes, but my mom made sure I had clothes that I liked to wear and that were in current fashion, too.

And Halloween. What can I say? I love it. Seeing the little ones dressed up as princesses and cowboys and bumble bees. I love it. I decorate our house. I dress up every year and give out the candy. LOTS of candy. I give out a handful to each child. I remember when I was a kid and only got one little piece. I thought it was so chintzy, unless of course, it was a full size bar. Then WOW! I’d hit the jackpot. Now when Mom said I could have only one piece I had a major one to spring on her. LOL

Then there is Thanksgiving. A favorite holiday because I get to spend it with my chosen family. Not just the family I was born into but the one I choose to belong to.

Let’s face it there are so many things to love about fall. And I love them all.

I’m giving away two $5 Starbucks cards and 2 paperback copies of TAME A WILD BRIDE. In order to be entered in the drawings for my prizes and for the Grand Prizes of a Kindle Fire or Nook, a $50 giftcard, and a HUGE swag pack, you MUST LEAVE YOUR EMAIL ADDRESS IN YOUR COMMENT.


54.
96.
103.
120.
121.
131.
144.
163.
169.

Ballroom Etiquette by Susan Macatee

Thanks so much for hosting me today on your blog, Cynthia!

You’re welcome Susan. Everyone please help me welcome Susan Macatee back to my blog. She has a great prize for one lucky commentor so be sure and leave her a comment or question.

My post today is about Ballroom etiquette during the American Civil War period.

Although the setting for my Civil War Christmas story, The Christmas Ball, opens in a Civil War camp where the heroine is disguised as a man to serve as a soldier, the story ends in Washington, D. C. at a lavish Christmas ball. I thought I’d talk about the types of balls given during the war years and the rules for the attendees.

A few of the things I learned were:

1. Nineteenth century Americans were class conscious. They didn’t mix with people above or below their class.

2. A formal introduction had to be made when meeting a new person. Only after such an invitation, could people greet one another and gentlemen were permitted to ask ladies to dance.

3. Balls could be private, invitation only affairs, or public, open to everyone. Attendees of the latter type of ball purchased tickets, the proceeds going to various causes. During the war, they were used as fundraisers on both sides.

4. Ladies never asked gentlemen to dance. If a gentleman wished to dance with a married lady, he had to ask her husband first.

5. Round dances (waltzes, polkas) were considered scandalous throughout small town America during the war.

6. Dancing was considered the first drill for young men who would ultimately become soldiers. Formation dances taught right from left, timing, how to maneuver in formation and team work.

7. Young ladies attending balls should only do so under the protection of a married lady or elderly gentleman.

8. A lady should not be left unattended at any time in a public assembly.

9. Husbands should not dance with their wives, except for the first set.

10. If a couple falls during a dance, it is almost always the man’s fault.

Love that last one. For more information on period balls, visit this site.
http://www.civilwardance.org/articles.htm

Blurb: While pretending to be a male soldier, farm girl Sara Brewster falls for a handsome Union army surgeon. When her secret is revealed, will a lavish Christmas Eve ball work in her favor–or will her heart be broken?

Kirk Ellison is shocked to discover the assistant he thought of as a boy is a young woman disguised as a man. As his feelings for Sara grow, he must convince her she can fit into his society life, if he’s to make her his own.

Excerpt:

Sara closed her eyes and breathed deeply. Doc Ellison’s kiss had scattered her senses. For months she’d dreamed of being in his arms. As he reached for the buttons on her shirt, her breath caught. His hands on her body thrilled her. She’d never felt like this before.

After loosening the buttons, he opened the shirt and gazed at her bosom.

She studied him, wondering what he was thinking. Did he like what he saw?

He dropped his hands and half-turned away.

“Please,” she gasped. “Don’t stop.”

Turning back, his gaze roved over her. She tried to read his expression. Was that desire she saw, or disgust?

“We should be going now,” he said. His gaze dropped to the hay strewn ground.

“No!” Boldly she reached out and fingered the buttons of his coat. He didn’t move as she slowly undid them and parted the material. Her fingers tingled as they brushed over his shirt, feeling hardened muscle beneath.

His breath hitched, but he gently pushed her away. “Miss Brewster, we mustn’t…”

“Doc!” A shout from outside, startled her. She jerked away from the doctor and scanned the barn opening.

“Yes,” Ellison called. He eyed her. “You’d best go.”

She nodded, hurriedly fastening her buttons. One of the other stewards approached. His dark eyes slid from her to the doctor. “They don’t need me in the hospital tent, and told me to come on over and give you a hand.”

Ellison glanced at Sara. “We’re about finished here. I was on my way back.”

“All right, Doc,” the soldier said. “I’ll head back with you.”

She swallowed, not sure she could find her voice. “Ah… I’m off duty, so I reckon I’ll head back to my tent.”

Ellison reached up and gave her shoulder a squeeze. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She caught his gaze, trying to gauge his thoughts. Would he have allowed her to undress him if they hadn’t been interrupted?

The Christmas Ball releases today from The Wild Rose Press. http://thewildrosepress.com
http://www.thewildrosepress.com/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=195&products_id=5026

For more information on my other Civil War set romances, visit my website: http://susanmacatee.com

And if you leave a comment on this post today, you’ll have the chance to win a pdf copy of The Christmas Ball and a $10.00 gift certificate for The Wild Rose Press.