Merry Christmas everyone!
I’m picking the winner of my blog hop tomorrow as a true Christmas gift, and I’ll let the lucky winner know. Thanks to all of you who stopped by. I hope your holidays are wonderful!
Gabby…
*who’s just a bit stuck on Bouble*
Mistletoe Madness IS Here!
Sorry, folks, late to the party but it’s on. Post away ‘cuz prizes are HOT!
Okay, here’s what you do, click here for a chance to win the grand prize: http://pjschnyder.com/blog/contests/
Leave a comment on my blog for another chance to win a $25.00 Amazon gift card.
Since I started late, those of you who’ve left comments, no worries, you’re covered. Thanks for stopping by and…
HAPPY HOPPING!
Coasting Through Limbo…
I’m about three months too late with a blog post. I was planning on a regular monthly blog. It’s not that I sold my house, separated from my husband of 18 years, or had to find someplace decent for my daughter and me to live OR anything.
Wait…oh, that did happen.
The separation took quite a little over two years. I think I Shanghaied the poor guy and it took him that long to realize I wasn’t kidding when I said I think it was probably a good idea. With our economic situation so closely in tune with the nation’s, we were forced to deal with it until we could sell the house.
I loved that house.
We finally did sell it after only about a combined 7 or 8 months on the market after an initial attempt the previous year. That was a good thing, but for some reason it took a while for the buyers to secure a loan. Taking a bit longer than expected threw me off, I guess. I had about two weeks to find somewhere else to stay once we’d closed. Living in a wonderful village with a great school for our daughter, it was imperative that she and I stay.
Unfortunately, I fell in rebound love with a condo…a short sale. Ugh! If anyone knows anything about them, why couldn’t you tell me to run screaming from the dang darned thing? Now, we wait, my daughter and I.Cooped up in this okay apartment
with crappy downstairs neighbors who could give Honey Boo Boo and her family
a run for their cable network money. 
Oh, it’s been an experience. One, I’m sure to look back on one day and laugh—just not today. So there you have it folks.
I’m happy to say that I’m writing again.
I pulled out an old manuscript, dusted it off and starting revising. It’s been too long and I want to get back up on that horse. Look out, here I come!
And the Winner Is…
Congratulations Pamk! I’m sending you an Amazon gift card worth $25.00!
I’ll also post the winner of the Mistletoe Madness grand prize Kindle Fire as soon as I get that information.
Thanks so much to all who participated. That was a lot of fun, so stop by now and then to see what I have for you next.
Mistletoe Madness: Blog Hoppin’ Fun! *Contest Now Closed*
Drumroll please…
Really…no kidding!
I’m giving away a $25.00 Amazon gift card to 1 lucky hopper. All you have to do is leave your name and email address (so I can tell you if you’ve won) as a comment below. I’m picking the winner December 21st.
THEN…
Check out the list of authors offering their own contest goodies and try for more LOOT by clicking on their names !
(http://www.inlinkz.com/wpview.php?id=211362)
FINALLY…
Click here: enter to win for a chance at the grand prize!
Go on…it’s MADNESS!
Romance as Fertilizer?
Within the last five years, I’ve been trying to argue that romance is fiction. I guess feeling bereft of it for so long, I’ve grown bitter and jaded.
…very bitter.
Never mind why I still cry at the sappiest romances. I’m programmed—
yes, this is denial!
Definitions declare romance as: an ardent emotional attachment; an expressive and pleasurable feeling from an emotional attraction to another; an emphasis on emotion rather than libido.
Hmm, what’s the common thread here? EMOTION! So romance is the emotional part of relationships. Like if a man tells you he loves you, he’s being romantic, right?
“No.” says a friend. “…it’s how he says it; that’s the romantic part.”
Ah, I think I understand. Universally, most women place more importance on emotional attachments, at least in theory, so men need to feed into that. Some men may feel the necessity to wax romantic when their pure, innate desire is in simply getting laid. These very smart men see the importance in presenting a bouquet of flowers, spontaneously texting a compliment, or cooking a favorite dish. They will be rewarded.
It happens.
Okay, so if we do the math, couple + romance = happy sex?
+
=
Hmm, no. I was never any good at math.
There’s so much more to it, like trigonometry, only simpler. Let’s try biology instead… What happens to a plant when you don’t nourish it?
It dies.
Romance is the water, sunshine and fertilizer you give your ROMANTIC relationship.
It’s a powerful thing. Like Miracle Grow!
Is romance important to you? I’d love to hear your perspective.
I’m Baaack!
The thrill of learning for the first time that one’s work will be published is easy to describe. Adrenaline rushes through one’s body and breathing ceases for about two seconds. When one’s autonomics recover and consciousness returns (yes, I think brief blackouts are common) the relief of air rushing through one’s lungs is dizzying. A smile plasters on one’s face and then friends, family, and pets are told, danced, and hugged. Euphoria sets in, but better yet, a sense of accomplishment inhabits the part of one’s existence where doubt and that dreaded impostor syndrome burrowed deep.
I’ve had two novellas published. Well, the second one is hopefully releasing in August.
I’m very happy about that fact. I love that someone took the time to read my work, appraised it’s value, and said, “Yeah, I love it! I want to publish this.”
It’s affirmation that I’m a good enough writer; that a well respected publisher is taking the time to ensure it’s made available to anyone who wants to read it. I really like that part.
The news of my second novella’s acceptance came at a time when I had to hear some good news, or I think the mask of strength and sanity that I’ve attempted for the past 22 months would crumble. Yes, even during a major life changing event, having another manuscript accepted is amazing! It’s like Demerol kicking in during labor. The pain is still there, but you don’t give a sh*t because you are feeling soooo goood. Weee!
*Really, who looks this good during labor?!!*
Anyway, I’m happy to say I’m back and I hope to be a bit more bloggishly interesting this time around. It’s cathartic, at least writing this bit was, and I should do it more often…I have no Demerol around. *wink, wink*
The Fantastic Voyage: A Look into the Mind of Author Keri Stevens
During a recent RWA chapter workshop, my wonderfully talented friend and personal moral booster, author Keri Stevens emails me. (Yes, I was caught checking messages when I should have been paying attention to some great info…again.)
Keri: So am I guest blogging for you tomorrow? (Of course she’s written it on her calendar of things to do and is completely organized with her marketing ventures unlike moi!)
Me: Crap, I forgot!… I’m sorry!
Keri: No problem. Give me three questions and I’ll do this.
Me (to myself) GAW, I love this woman!
So really, it gives me great pleasure to have her here and quest blogging about her soon to be released novel, Stone Kissed. 
Just read and enjoy what tumbles out of this woman’s mind. I always do! And don’t you just love her cover?!
In which Gabriella Edwards tries to pry deep, dark secrets from Keri Stevens:
Today, I’m pleased to welcome Keri Stevens on her very first stop ever, on her very first blog tour ever, for her very first novel ever, Stone Kissed. I asked her three questions about her book. Watch how she tries to weasel out of answering them…
GE: Is Delia a manifestation of an alter ego?
KS: Delia is as unlike me as I could have made her. She’s small, birdlike, quiet, dogged, no-nonsense and much younger than I am. While I would find the ability to talk with statues a constant source of delight (and probably attempt to make a career out of it), she finds it a mixed blessing, at best.
But when it comes to core values and desires, we’re probably more similar than I want to explore or admit…next question?
GE: Come on. Throw me a bone, here.
Okay—we both put on the oldies and dance around while we clean. It’s the only way to dust.
GE: What about your succubus? Did you base her on someone you know?
Don’t you love her? I just love her. In many ways, I found her much easier to write than Delia. Hmm…I wonder what that means…
GE: Who is Grant? Share that story with everyone.
Grant’s seed was planted (and that is not a metaphor) when I was a teenager. I met a guy from Scotland who was and is the cover of every Highland romance ever written. Tall, dark, and rocking the plaid shirt with the rolled up sleeves, the acid-washed denim with carefully-shredded holes on his thighs and…pardon me. I need a minute.
GE: Here. Have some estrogen…
Anyway, he was the first guy I ever saw who had me thinking, “You are so far out of my league we’re not even talking the same sport.” As a result, we were good buddies for a few minutes. I was one of the few girls not actively seeking his attention, so he could relax with me.
I’d like to tell you that, in classic teen-romance fashion, Mr. Brawbraes realized his “little buddy” was the girl of his dreams and we had a sweet, chaste teen-lurve. But alas, he got away.
And, fortunately, so did I. Grant shares many of the finer aspects of his character with my own real-life romance hero, Dr. Stevens. And none of the annoying ones.
GE: None?
KS: Is this going out on the ‘net?
GE: Yeah.
KS: Then no. None.
GE: ROFL! Thank you, Keri! See? What I tell ya? This is all Keri and her story is simply amazing! Do yourself a favor and download it. It will be available December 27, 2010.
If you’d like a taste of Stone Kissed, Keri has brief excerpts up right now! http://keristevens.com
Read on for more about Keri and Stone Kissed.
STONE KISSED ISBN: 978-14268-9101-4
When Delia Forrest talks to statues, they talk back. She is, after all, the last of the Steward witches.
After an arsonist torches her ancestral home with her estranged father still inside, Delia is forced to sell the estate to pay his medical bills. Her childhood crush, Grant Wolverton, makes a handsome offer for Steward House, vowing to return it to its former glory. Delia agrees, as long as he’ll allow her to oversee the restoration.
Working so closely with Grant, Delia finds it difficult to hide her unique talent—especially when their growing passion fuels her abilities.
But someone else lusts after both her man and the raw power contained in the Steward land. Soon, Delia finds herself fighting not just for Grant’s love, but for both their lives…
KERI STEVENS was raised in southern Missouri and has lived in Germany, Arizona, North Carolina and Kentucky. Along the way, she acquired degrees in writing and German, a romance hero of her very own, three sons, and a mutt who licks her when she speaks German.
Her husband gave Keri her first romance novel to read, which unleashed a passion. Several years and a couple thousand novels later, Keri took up her laptop and began writing her own books.
By day, she is a mild-mannered yoga and Oriental dance instructor. By night she creates mayhem and magic in small-town paranormal romance novels like her award-winning debut, Stone Kissed, coming 12/27/10 from Carina Press.
To find Keri online, please follow @KeriStevens on twitter, fan Keri Stevens on facebook or visit her at www.keristevens.com.
Welcome My First Guest Blogger, Becke Martin Davis!
My novella Until Emie releases today and to help me launch my debut into the publishing world, I asked my dear friend and critique partner, Becke Martin Davis to come and post a blog.
*She knows I’m freaking out and can’t manage one myself* 
Not only is she incredibly talented, gorgeous, and giving, but she likes my writing! If it weren’t for this woman, I wouldn’t have had the courage to submit my little story anywhere. This book is dedicated to her even though it’s not printed on the inside cover (oversight on my part) I wanted everyone to know. Love you, Becke!
“A Cut Above: Until Emie is Released Today!”
By Becke Martin Davis
“I’m picking up my bags now. I should be home in about an hour depending on traffic. Did you send a car?”
She barely registered his reply when a strong hand covered hers over the handle of her luggage. She glanced down and a charge of hot awareness shot through her. The thick scar winding its way from the index finger to streak a path under the palm belonged to only one man.
Shit, no! I’m not ready. Emie looked into the hard steel grey of the eyes she had never seemed to escape. Panic threatened her reason.
“You look disappointed to see me, Emie. I’m hurt.” Without asking, Cut took the phone from her. “I’ve got her, Richard.” He ended the call with four words.
***
It was early in 2008 when I attended my first meeting of the Ohio Valley RWA chapter, and I was a little nervous. A newbie to fiction, I had printed up the completed drafts of my first two stories, eager to compare notes with other writers.
Like a newbie, I sat in a back corner so I could observe without drawing any attention. I wasn’t alone. Sitting next to me was a dark-haired, dark-eyed woman who also had a printout in front of her. We eyed each other eagerly, but a little wary, too. She had a great smile and, like so many of my friends, was a whole lot shorter than me. I felt like the Jolly Green Giant, but her friendly smile instantly won me over. We exchanged introductions – Becke, Rosie – briefly and in whispers, since someone was talking at the front of the room.
“Did you bring a story?” I asked, nodding at her pages.
“Yes,” she whispered back. “Did you?”
We passed our manuscripts over, trying to be subtle about it. I think her eyebrows raised a bit at the number of pages in mine.
I didn’t want to be rude to the speaker, but I was eager to sneak a peek at the story. Although I had been a garden writer for many years, I was brand, spanking new to fiction and had no idea if I was on the right track. I was desperate for a critique partner, and hoped I might have found one.
I slipped on my reading glasses and opened the story to page one. I liked the title: UNTIL EMIE. I started to read. “The arrival gate at Houston Intercontinental was unusually quiet. For once, Emie and the stream of weary travelers made it through without the persistent paparazzi mowing them down.” I was intrigued.
I gave Rosie an encouraging nod and read on. My face began to heat. The hero was named “Cut,” which for some reason I thought was freaking hot. He had a sexy scar, and with about a dozen words I knew he was going to be Alpha with a capital A. I think I may have started to pant at that point. I know damn well I was blushing.
“Holy shit!” I whispered, as my eyes bugged out of my head. “This is really good, but, uh, I can’t read it in public.” Rosie reached to take it back and she had to tug a bit before I would let go. “Wait – I really want to read it!”
“You like it – really?”
“Yes!” I guess my expression convinced her (I may have been drooling a little.)
Her smile was so bright it practically singed me. “I’ll email it to you.”
We’ve been critique partners ever since, but I got the better deal. Her story was almost ready to go, while I was still “learning by writing.” Rosie must have waded through a million words of mine, for which she deserves a medal (or a night with Gerard Butler, and I know which she would prefer).
I was thrilled when Rosie aka Gabriella sold UNTIL EMIE to Red Sage, but I wasn’t surprised. I knew from the first page that she was going to sell this story. It seems as if it’s taken forever, but it’s really only been a matter of months. September 1, 2010, UNTIL EMIE by Gabriella Edwards goes on sale. It’s definitely a cut above!
I’m not a betting person, but I guarantee this is only the first of many stories by this hot new author, and I do mean hot! I hope you enjoy the story as much as I did. But, take my word for it, you’re going to want some privacy – or most of you will. If you’re into an audience? Just wait until you read her next story!
Becke Davis, writing as Becke Martin
Boy Howdy! What Makes an Erotic Scene Tick?
What makes an erotic scene tick? Hot sweaty animal sex…is that it? I’m thinking yes, but then again I have a tendency to write my stories around sex scenes, which never fails to leave me in a huge rut. However, when I come up with a fairly decent story (so my critique partners and editor tells me) I don’t want to admit I think in terms of sex scenes. I’m a romance writer who wants to make the story memorable. I have to add juicy conflicts, and compelling motives, and sweeping character arcs.
Never mind! Let’s get back to the sex!
Okay, so boy meets girl. Boy thinks girl is hawt…girl thinks boy is hawt, and then they have at it.
IT! Dun, dun, dah!
They do the nasty, get it on, make the beast with two backs, or three or four if it’s a… ménage. 
*blink, blink*
Where was I? Oh, right!
What makes it…sex…right for the story? How do sex scenes escape gratuitous status? How do they propel the story forward? These are all the considerations I have to take in when I’m constructing an erotic romance. I can’t just write stories around hot sex. I need to make the scenes necessary/fit the story.
I’m currently finishing up a second novella and I’m at a pivotal scene. It’s honestly the first time I’ve consciously kept every one of these questions in mind. I feel brilliant, creative, and very proud that I’m crafting the scene so no one sees it as just another opportunity for me to write sex.
It’s a wonderful opportunity to allow the hero and heroine to unleash their characters, grow further into who they are (in my mind) and reach a conclusion that moves them either forward—or backward—on whatever path they’re traveling. It really is that important to the big picture.
What’s your opinion? Have you read stories where the sex just wasn’t *gasp* necessary? Did it make you feel uncomfortable or want to throw the book across the room?
Let’s chat!
The Story of Ro: Confessions of an Erotic Romance Writer 
