Category: Guest Blogs

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Guest Blogger: LW Herndon (giveaway)

Books-n-Kisses is pleased to let LW Herndon take over the blog today… 
Thank you for having me on your blog, Kelly.
One of the things I enjoy most about writing is research. It’s a necessity and temptation all rolled into one. And while a reader might wonder what there is to research about urban fantasy, I can state for a fact, there’s plenty. Almost nothing exists in print, movies or television that doesn’t originate from history or mythology. Star Wars, Star Trek, and the tales of werewolves and vampires can all find their roots in the philosophy and mythologies of China, Greece, and many other countries. The names are slightly changed and the histories mutated, but the ideas come from existing information sources.
So when I decided to use demon clans as the backdrop for the Thaddeus Kane novels, I read about demons across a variety of cultures and religions. The world as Kane knows it holds demons from ancient clans spanning back to the creation of man. Similar to human beings, these demons evolved in many forms, from the mischievous, to the downright evil, to mild-mannered live-and-let-live varieties.
With stories from Christian and Jewish demonology, European, Chinese, Japanese, and even Sumerian mythology, there is wonderful lore and details available. Enough to be a real distraction from actual writing. But with a little bit from here and there, and a twist of something different, it evolved into a framework for the demons who become Kane’s allies and enemies.
Here’s an example of an interesting demonic character that I ran across in my search. Buer: listed as a Great President of Hell. Bearing an auspicious title, he’s charged with ‘teaching Natural and Moral Philosophy, Logic, and the virtues of all herbs and plants.” Not exactly the role I had expected to see from the Commander in Chief of Hell. With the head of a lion and five goat legs he would also be difficult to camouflage. I didn’t pattern any of my demon hierarchy after Buer, but who knows, there are Thaddeus Kane tales left to tell. Perhaps Buer will show up one day. I’m fairly certain he’ll never make a romantic lead, but I could see him as a good side-kick (no pun intended) or turncoat ally.
What demons or creatures of the night do you find most surprising in the stories you read? Which ones stick in your memory long after you’ve read the story?
~LW Herndon
My name is Thaddeus Kane. I exist in Los Angeles, the city known for the hustle of Hollywood, an average 266 days a year of sunshine, and smog.
That’s not my L.A. I operate under the mantle of the city as a troubleshooter for the demon clan who saved my life. Not a bad job if I can stay alive, but I have my limits. I refuse to risk innocents, which causes me problems. That one line I won’t cross for anyone. Loyalties—I have them. I’m pretty sure none of my associates would approve of my particular choices.
Human sorcerers are murdering my clan to harness superpowers and I’m the only one capable of finding the evil. A tough assignment, made harder by my secret alliance with a rival demoness to save prophetic teenagers from the same horrible fate. I’m all they’ve got.
LW Herndon is a pseudonym for the author of the Thaddeus Kane urban fantasy novels and the Declan Other Realm young adult urban fantasy tales. More information on LW Herndon and future books can be found at the website http://www.lwherndon.com and blog http://demonssorcerersandmore.com/lwherndonblog
Website / Blog / Facebook / Twitter

For the giveaway:A $25 Amazon or Barnes & Noble GC to one randomly drawn commenter during the tour as well as to the host with the most comments. Additionally, two random drawn winners will receive the 2nd Thaddeus Kane ebook, on its release date, Fall 2012.

Readers can follow the dates and locations for the Mark of Kane Sizzling PR Book Tour @ http://sizzlingpr.com/2012/04/02/the-mark-of-kane-by-lw-herndon/
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Guest Blogger: Lee Ann Sontheimer Murphy

            We all love our Saturdays and most of us have our routines.  Mine is to visit the library and the supermarket, maybe enjoy dinner out.  In my latest release Miss Good Samaritan (April 2012, Rebel Ink Press) Robin Cavanaugh’s ordinary Saturday goes awry.  After visiting the Laundromat and heading toward her hair appointment, she’s driving along a busy thoroughfare in Tulsa, Oklahoma when she notices a man, dressed in Goth leathers, running hard.  He cuts across a grassy area and at the traffic light he jumps into the passenger seat and urges her to drive.  Shocked, she does – and notices he’s bleeding heavily from a gunshot wound.
            In those moments, her ordinary existence as a librarian changed forever.
            
Miss Good Samaritan 
And you can find Miss Good Samaritan here:
ARe | Amazon | BookStrand | B&N 

Here’s the official blurb:        

Robin Cavanaugh’s ordinary Saturday goes awry when a wounded man leaps
into her car at a traffic light and refuses to go to the hospital. Robin’s
first instinct is to take him to the nearest police station but when he
tells her his name, she realizes he’s a member of her church. He swears
he’s one of the good guys and Robin feels inclined to believe him. So she
takes him home and tends his wounds.

When his condition worsens, she even uses his cell phone to contact what
turns out to be his brother, the local medical doctor. Robin soon learns
that Gray is no criminal but an undercover agent whose life may be in
danger.

As their relationship develops and Gray heals, Robin becomes part of the
action, too. When she gives him her heart and accepts his marriage
proposal, Robin has no idea if he’ll survive his last undercover operation
or not.

I enjoy writing all of my novels and stories but I really had fun writing this one.  Tulsa – the setting – is one of my favorite cities around and my daughter loves it so much she wants the family to make a move there.  She also is considering attending college in Tulsa.  Without giving away any spoilers, Robin and Gray make a road trip during the novel and they visit my hometown of St. Joseph, MO.  I will share this – Gray’s Aunt Susie, a minor character in the novel – is based on my late Aunt Susie, one of my favorite aunts.  I gave her a cameo because I miss her very much and sometimes long for her laid back, never worried, always calm approach to life.

Here’s a brief excerpt from the novel:
“I can take you to the hospital,” she said. “That’s all I can do. Hang on and we’ll be there in a few minutes, just as soon as I figure out if we’re closer to Hillcrest, OSU, or St. Francis,”
He closed his eyes, shuttered tight against the pain but at her suggestion, he opened them and glared at her.
“No hospital,” he choked. “They report gunshot wounds,”
Disbelief cut through her anxiety so that she spoke without thinking,
“Are you telling me you don’t want to go to the hospital?” He must be insane, Robin thought. He needed immediate medical attention. Those drops of blood she’d noticed were now a stream flowing down the seat and puddled onto the floorboard. “You need to get help – you’re bleeding all over the place.”
His eyes narrowed as he glared at her.
“I know but I can’t go to the hospital. The law requires them to report any gunshot wound and if they do, I’m a dead man. Drive faster. I don’t think they saw what car I got into but they might have.”
“Who saw you?” Robin asked, afraid to hear the answer.  The way he’d been running, she figured it must’ve been the police, drug dealers, a gang or maybe organized crime.
“I think maybe the cops did,”
Her attention strayed from the road as Robin wheeled around to stare at him, realizing for the first time that he wore black leather pants, leather jacket, and a black T-shirt.  His hands displayed half-leather gloves while studded bracelets circled both wrists.  His long hair curled around his neck in back but he kept it close cropped in front.  The hair on top must’ve been spiked with gel although it wilted, flat after his run.  Robin couldn’t decide if his getup represented a biker look, pUnk, gothic, or what but his fashion statement stretched way outside her comfort zone. He must be a criminal, she thought and in an effort to remain calm, she asked,
“Were the police chasing you?”
Her voice emerged shrill and frantic but he didn’t appear to notice.
“Yeah, they were. They shot me.”
She braked hard and pulled from the road into a discount store parking lot.
“I ‘m sorry about this,” Robin said. “But I need to take you to either the hospital or the police station. I can’t help you if you broke the law.”
Beneath his mussed hair, his sweat-slimed face relaxed and he grinned, looking younger and vulnerable.
“I’m not a criminal and I’m innocent. I promise you I am.”
Robin pulled into a parking space far away from any other vehicle and turned to him, hands shaking, with a major headache in progress.
“Let’s see if I understand,” she said, with slow precision. This impossible scenario couldn’t be happening. Her reputation and record were washday clean.  She’d never been written a single traffic ticket and now a fugitive from justice might be bleeding to death in her car. “You were pursued by police officers, they shot you, and you don’t any medical treatment because they’ll report it and then authorities will arrest you.”
“That’s about it.”  He sounded serene despite his injury and situation.
Robin wasn’t calm at all, as words tumbled from her mouth. “What am I supposed to do with you? I’m getting my phone out of my purse and calling the police. I can’t do this. I’m a law abiding citizen.”
A dry, harsh sound burst from his mouth and it took more than a minute to realize he was laughing, even though his bleeding increased.
“Go ahead,” he said in a raspy, thin voice. “They’ll charge you with aiding and abetting a fugitive from justice. It might lessen the charges a little because you called but the fact is you’ve picked me up and drove around with me in the car. The old innocent until proven guilty thing doesn’t always apply.  If it did, I wouldn’t be bleeding all over your car. I really am innocent.”
He sounded so convincing Robin wanted to believe him but doubt reared up with a powerful surge. Wondering just how she ever got into this mess, Robin sighed and rubbed her forehead as her headache expanded. By now, without this twist of fate, she’d be at Ci Ci’s Curling Iron, relaxed in the beauty chair.  Right now she should be getting her hair done, not dealing with a fugitive and a headache pounding like a bass drum in a football homecoming parade, all at the same moment.  
What I should do, Lord, she prayed and waited for an answer but no clear one came so she sighed and tried to find some way out of this mess.
“I don’t even know your name.”
Her passenger tried to grin. “I guess you want the real one.”
His nonchalance sent her headache into a new dimension of pain.
You can find me at my :
blog A Page In The Life
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Guest Blogger: Jim Bronyaur

Since I’ve been out promoting and talking about my new series, the Minivan Mom Mystery Series, I’ve been asked about being a man and writing mystery for women.
There was a saying I’ve heard dozens of times about how behind every great man is a greater woman.  Well, I’m the proof in that one, especially in this series.  Without my wife, this series would not have seen the light of day.  In fact, my wife is actually getting interview requests of her own.  I guess my job is to just write and hush up. 
When my wife was pregnant with our kids, I often read What to Expect When You’re Expecting.  It’s a great, big book of the worst case scenarios of what could happen when having a child.  In fact, by the time you’re done reading it, you’re terrified.
I’m going to write today about what to expect when you expecting the second book in the Minivan Mom Mystery Series.
In the first book, we introduced Eve Bailey and her family. 
Ben, her husband.
Delaney, her oldest daughter.
Cody, her only son.
Penny, her youngest daughter.
Then, of course, is the cast of characters from Eve’s enemy, Karen Corothers, to the gossip queen of Marysville, Charlotte Williams.
When I started writing this story, I told myself and my wife that when we got to the second book and there on, I refuse to rewrite the same story.
I wanted each one to be new, different, and fresh.
So, what to expect in the second book (which is titled A Mess to Die For) –
There will be murder.  This is a give in.  It’s a mystery book.  I need to kill someone.  The fun part in the second book is that it’s an interesting murder…
Eve will be involved.  Without Eve getting involved, there’s no story!  In the first book, Eve doesn’t believe what the police are saying.  In the second book, it’s Eve’s memory that keeps her involved.  She just can’t let it go.  She feels tied to the murder and her mind won’t let her rest.
There will be suspense.  In the first book, the suspense came directly to Eve, pulling her along within the story.  In the second book, the suspense is layered throughout the book in small sets.  The suspense hooks all the characters, and the readers.
Kids will be kids.  One of my favorite parts of writing this series is writing about the kids.  In the first book, Delaney prepared for her big soccer game while Penny learned to speak goldfish, and Cody learned that skipping school isn’t such a good idea.  In the second book, the kids are always there, keeping Eve on her toes.  Delaney has some troubles with her favorite soccer medal, Penny has a boy picking on her, and Cody just can’t stop fighting with his enemy, Max Corothers.
Messes all around!  The title was created from the story.  When writing the first book, we had the title from day one.  With the second, we were without title until a quarter way through the book when I realized all Eve is doing is cleaning up messes.  The messes could be a spilled glass of orange juice all the way to a murder.  It’s the true cycle of Eve Bailey and how strong she is as a stay-at-home and how big her heart can be… even though it gets a little dangerous sometimes.
The good news is that A Mess to Die For is slated for a Mother’s Day release.  The even better news is that the first book, If Errands Could Kill, is out now and is sitting exclusively on Amazon in both Kindle and paperback form. 
Thanks for stopping by and if you enjoy a fast paced mystery, then check out the Minivan Mom Mystery Series.
If Errands Could Kill
by Jim Bronyaur
Amazon 
Up at sunrise to enjoy the quiet of a sleeping household, Eve Bailey gets her coffee, prepares breakfast for her three children, and has a spare tie ready knowing that her husband, Ben, will definitely spill something on the one he is wearing. Their oldest daughter, Delaney, is one game away from moving onto the soccer championships, their son, Cody, skipped school yesterday, and innocent 7 year old Penny is trying to communicate with her goldfish. Eve’s days are that of a typical stay at home mom.

Her typical day changes drastically after she drives Cody to school as part of his punishment for skipping school. Cody’s creepy science teacher, Mr. Jackson, approaches Eve to let her know that her check for Cody’s field trip had bounced. Knowing it had to be an error, Eve heads to the bank to figure it out. While in line, she chats with her mother in law who works at the bank. Then she notices Janet, another bank employee and self-made town outcast, acting very strange at the back counter.

Eve’s concern grows when she is leaving the bank and sees Janet open the gas tank door and then drives away. Against her better judgment, Eve follows Janet. What happens next is something unheard of in quiet Marysville, Pennsylvania.
Janet is murdered in front of Eve’s eyes, and the police find drugs in her car.

Murder and drugs? It doesn’t make sense. Eve is now a witness and determined to disprove the “drug deal gone wrong” theory.

Can she convince the police that she knows who the killer is, save her family, and make it to Delaney’s big soccer game in time?


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Guest blogger: Sabrina Luna


My Love Affair with Charlotte …North Carolina, that is!
By Sabrina Luna, author of Crazy for You in the LOVE AGAIN anthology
When I first sat down at my computer to tell Erica and Shawn’s love story in Crazy for You, I knew I wanted it to take place in Charlotte, North Carolina.  I grew up just over the stateline in South Carolina and had visited the Queen City often with friends for special things, like shopping or to see a movie or concert. 
In 2006, I moved here and really got to know her better.  I say ‘her’ because Charlotte has become more familiar to me.  The more I cruise her streets and check out interesting places around the city, I feel a special connection to this city.  So, by starting my story off with my hero’s arrival at the Charlotte Douglas International Airport, I knew the Queen City and her smaller neighbor, Pineville NC, would be an ideal setting.
Now, I must confess, there are some fictional elements in the setting too.  All the names of the stores, restaurants and even the hotel that Shawn stays in are fictional.  However, those places are actually based on places in the city I’ve been.  While writing, I could see, in my creative mind’s eye, Shawn and Erica in these settings.  Not only did it make the scene more believable to me, but I sincerely hope it makes the scene more real to you, the reader, too!
Yes, I’ve been to places like Astro’s Lounge, the uptown club where Erica and the bridal party go for drinks and watch a stripper named Fabio.  And the alternation shop and Chinese restaurant in Pineville are loosely based on actual shops in the town just outside of Charlotte too. 
But my favorite location in Crazy for You is the hotel in uptown Charlotte where Shawn stays before the wedding.  It’s based on one of the city’s newer hotels and I actually attended a private pre-bridal shower party in a room very much like his too.  The building seemed to be created with all steel and glass, in which I didn’t personally find cozy, but the high-rise hotel did have a stunning view of the city.
Even though the names of some of the locations are fictionalized, I hope you’ll enjoy a glimpse of Charlotte, North Carolina –the city where I write and live!
Love, Again is a Valentine’s Day anthology from Ruby Lioness Press with a second chance theme. Love, Again releases February 14, 2012. 

Crazy for You by Sabrina Luna
Shawn Flint wants to rekindle the spark between him and Erica Kelly when he surprises her and his family by flying into Charlotte, North Carolina for his stepsister’s wedding, but Erica is still cautious, wanting to keep their affair a secret.  Can Shawn overcome Erica’s protests and convince her that he is totally crazy for her?
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Guest blogger: Cecilia Roberts


Searing Kisses, better than sex?

Thank you for hosting on Books–n-Kisses, Kelly.
A kiss can be either drugging, or well, disgusting. Depends on who is doing the kissing. I believe chemistry between the two people plays a big role. What about if it’s the first kiss between two people? Imagine the anticipation and anxiety wondering how it would be, or the first physical contact? Or if two people, two best friends, one has always had feelings for his best friend, while the other is unaware of his/her friends feelings. Every person has a different reaction. Myself, I love a kiss that makes my toes curl. Better than sex anytime, and the good thing is, kisses can happen anywhere. And can lead to much, much more. If the kiss is as scorching as it is intoxicating, the sex will be better.
In my contemporary romance, Frey and Liese share a kiss. I’d like to share an excerpt from Truly, Madly, Deeply, You.
“Like, say, a kiss. On my cheek, if my lips might be little bit overwhelming for you.”
He became aware of the change in her breathing, and her squirming on the seat.
“Is that a challenge, Frey? You know better than to dare me. I never walked away
from a dare, remember?”
Oh, yes. He remembered every detail of the dares they had had over the years, up until
she got married to Bastian. An idea began forming in his head. Maybe, just maybe this would
be the one way…. “Yes, Li. It’s a dare. Come on, show me what you have in you.”
He saw hesitation in her eyes, uncertainty. If he didn’t goad her, she wasn’t going to
kiss him. And right now, he wanted that more than the cold air he breathed. “Scared of an itsy
bitsy little challenge?”
Her eyes narrowed at the challenging tone. Her full lips tightened, and then stretched
into the amazing smile that always sent his heart to a full gallop inside his chest.
“As a matter of fact, no.” She leaned forward and brushed her lips over his, then
pulled back and stared at him.
He rolled his eyes. “That was purely for show.” He leaned his head back, and lifted a
brow at her. “Is that all you got for me, Miss Dare-Me-Anytime-of-the-Year?”
She inhaled sharply. Without warning, she slid her hands around his neck and yanked
him closer. Her lips crashed into his, soft yet demanding. Caught off guard, he braced his
hands behind her head on the car seat to keep his full weight from landing on her. This was
the most awkward position he had ever kissed anyone in, or been kissed in, for that matter.
Before he could adapt to the quality of the kiss, it changed. The demanding note was gone,
and was replaced by a kiss so sensual it wiped the painful stitch from his side, along with any
sense of coherent thought. He groaned and shifted his body. Without breaking the kiss, he
climbed into the car, knelt in front of her, and urged her knees apart to accommodate his
torso. And then it ended so fast he was left reeling and breathing heavily.
He leaned forward, touching his forehead to hers. He closed his eyes, trying to breathe
in and out normally. He was aware of her rapid breathing, just as fast as his, and he knew the
kiss affected her as it had affected him.
His eyes flew open at the soft chuckle, cutting through the charged-up air.
“So, what were you saying Mr Dare-To-Kiss-Me?” The hands dropped away from his
face, but the warmth of them, and the kiss, lingered on.
“Intoxicating,” he said, as he attempted to step out of the car.
I just love a well done butter me up scotching kiss. J
Book Title:  Truly, Madly, Deeply, You
Author: Cecilia Robert
Genre:  Contemporary Romance
Publisher: InkSpell Publishing
Publication Date: March 21st  2012
Format: eBook, Kindle
Book Synopsis:
Four days before Valentine’s Day, Liese Hansfeld is determined to shut the door to her house, as well as her heart, for her annual four days of mourning her one true love. Little does she know her best friend Freytag Meier is just as determined to keep her from her ritual. He’s ready to pick the lock to her apartment door and camp in her living room if that’s what it takes.
What Freytag isn’t prepared for is the surge of deep-rooted emotions he feels for Liese, but two things stand in his way: the grief and guilt she still clutches close to her heart, and a man who threatens to snatch Liese from under Frey’s watchful eye. Frey is determined to distract her into forgetting her pain. But is that enough to ease her grief, or help her see he can be more than her best friend
Cecilia Robert enjoys the play and weave of words that make up a good story. She enjoys creating fantastical worlds and getting lost in them. She often meets a prince, a princess, a pirate, ordinary and badass boy or girl who take her through the wonderful world of dreaming and fantasy.
 She doesn’t have particular leanings to any kind of story as long as it captures her attention She reads and enjoys urban/dark fantasy romance,  paranormal, contemporary, sci-fi, mystery or horror as much as her children’s school books.
 Some nights, you can find her reading Puss in Boots for her daughter, or trying to understand how to read Manga comics from her son.
Important Links
Author Website:
http://cecereadandwrite.blogspot.com/
Twitter:
https://twitter.com/#!/CeCeMR
Facebook:
http://www.facebook.com/CeciliaMRobert
Publisher Website:
http://inkspellpublishing.com
Goodreads:
http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/13358709-truly-madly-deeply-you
Pre-order:
http://www.inkspellpublishing.com/4/post/2012/01/truly-madly-deeply-you.html
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Guest Blogger: Timothy Sagges

Books-n-Kisses is pleased to let Timothy Sagges take over the blog today:  

I’ve been inspired to write since sixth grade. My teacher, Miss Fletcher, would regularly assign book reports to the class. Thank God the stories we were to read and report back on were short. As is currently true, I was never an avid reader.

Miss Fletcher and I discovered together that I also lacked the discipline to structure a book report in a way that made any sense. Instead of reporting on Jack and Jill’s motivation for running up the hill, I would explore and expound on the possibilities and consequences of the well being empty, their quest for water, and the exotic places the two would travel to fetch a pail.

In what I know now to be her ability to help a child grow, she would elevate my pathetic attempts at book reporting to what would become a weekly ritual of Timmy reading to the class his latest story.

As I grew and set my sights on becoming independently wealthy, I put my zest for writing on the back burner and set out to earn a living. And although hundreds, possibly thousands of ideas have, over the decades, popped into my head and have been duly scribbled on post-its for future reference, it wouldn’t be until my 49th year of life that I would make the connection between having a neat idea and the process of writing. Writing is hard work. Staring at a blank computer screen is daunting at best. But one can only mull an idea over for so long before going insane. So with the characters, plot and timeline long ago etched in, and haunting, my brain, I opted to do whatever I could to purge the story and make room for something else, (more stories). And after reading the self-published novel written by a friend of a friend, I thought, I can do that! And I did. With discipline I never knew I possessed I sat at my computer every night for five months with the goal of getting 500 words down on paper.

I would give almost anything to find Miss Fletcher.

***

Best Seller
By Timothy B Sagges
Paperback
Price: $14.99
ISBN: 9781456478193
Pages: 326
Release: February 2011
Amazon | B&N | BestSeller-book.com

Thirty-five year old fiction writer, Richard Rossi would do just about anything to get his manuscript published. However, months of rejection and unanswered prayers have strained his capacity to hope. Alone in New York City, he teeters on the brink of alcoholism, as his hope erodes into desperation.

His prayers are finally answered when a simple misdirected piece of mail spawns a chance encounter with an extraordinary man, Seth Volos, Publisher. And while their unholy alliance thrusts Richard to the top of every Best Seller list in America, the horrifying outcome for the book’s legions of fans is anything but a happy ending.

Timothy B. Sagges Bio:
Fifty-year-old actor, director and playwright, Tim Sagges has been tormented by a series of recurring night terrors since 1967, long before there was a name for such a curse. It is only recently that he has found the courage to formulate some of these visions into works of literature. In an effort to purge himself of the unrelenting horror of his dreams, he has created Best Seller, the first in a series of nightmares exorcised from his mind and onto the page.

He is currently the owner of Eye Candy Vision in Philadelphia.

Best Seller web site |Timothy B. Sagges’ Facebook | Timothy B. Sagges’ Twitter |
Tribute Books Blog Tours Facebook | Best Seller blog tour site

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Guest Blogger: Donna Del Oro

WALK LIKE A MAN: How a Woman Writer Captures a Man’s POV
             How does “She tipped up her chin at the stranger, resisting the man’s attempt at intimidation” become “He shot the stranger a don’t-fuck-with-me look”?
            In order for a female fiction writer to avoid caricature and instead capture the sensibilities of a male, her mindset must change. As we all know, POV is vital in accurately portraying a male character (or any character, for that matter) and thus creating and sustaining verisimilitude. A story hinges on how believably the POV portrays/expresses the character in question, and that believability extends to gender. Even if you jump POVs from hero to heroine, the male POV scenes MUST BE MASCULINE, and therefore DIFFERENT in VOICE, ATTITUDE, and LANGUAGE.
            The two sexes are different. We have different world views, mindsets, expectations and preoccupations. For example, one psychologist’s study showed that men think about sex at least sixteen times per day; assuming sixteen hours of wakefulness, that’s a minimum of once per hour. Conversely, women contemplate sex one-third as often. Isn’t it a marvel how men find time to start and fight wars, when so much of their conscious mind is preoccupied with sex? Or find the time to fill a weekend as an armchair quarterback? Are sex, sports and war games their main preoccupations?
            Another preoccupation is their sense of “manhood”, their need to prove themselves “manly”. Watch a fence-enclosed playground of children some time. Little girls will reasonably enter and exit via the open gate. Not little boys. The five-foot high cyclone fence becomes a test of physical strength and agility—a challenge of manhood, if you will, and a string of little boys will dare each other to climb over. The little girls look on, some puzzled by the boys’ illogical behavior, others openly admiring the little daredevils who need to resist the lure of logic.
            Read the novels of male authors to learn the male mindset. From the cerebral, artistic but nonetheless lethal Mossad assassin, Gabriel, of Daniel Silva, to the military action heroes of Brad Thor; from the political thrillers of Vince Flynn to the police procedurals of Michael Connelly and John Lescroat, to the scientific adventurers of James Rollins and Steve Berry—the male gender has his own distinct Point of View. And that includes, of course, his VOICE, ATTITUDE and LANGUAGE.
            So, how to capture a man’s worldview, or—as the German philosophers call it—“weltanschauung”?  Sparingly.  A male fiction hero uses action more than speech to convey his worldview.  A female writer not only has to reflect his POV in inner dialogue and reflection (or narration), but also in his actions and his spoken words. Or lack of them.  For a male character, long silences are common. Daniel Silva’s Gabriel, the Mossad agent whose cover is Renaissance art restorer, spends days silently restoring his canvasses while simultaneously plotting his next mission.  When a male author writes men’s dialogue, he does so sparingly. When a female author writes men’s dialogue, there is almost no difference between the male and female characters. We don’t realize how little men really speak.
            Dialogue, of course, has to reflect the character. Men don’t talk as much as women. This is not stereotype or cliche. The same applies to little girls and boys. Several psychological studies have rated female speech as four to five times more frequent and denser than male speech. There’s more profanity, too, in male speech and many more sports metaphors.  How many times have you heard a man say, “Time to get the ball and run with it”? Or “The ball’s in your court”, “I’m going for broke”, and—one from the military—“It’s all FUBAR, man”.
            When FBI analyst, Jake Bernstein, in my sexy spy-thriller, A BODYGUARD OF LIES, gazes at the medieval-era Iron Maiden torture chamber in the dungeon at Cardiff Castle, he reflects on man’s inhumanity to man, and then thinks immediately of his German-Jewish grandfather’s survival guilt. He thinks outloud and, in a moment of spontaneous candor, shares his grandfather’s suffering with Meg, the grand-daughter of the woman he’s investigating. In the next moment, he covers his embarrassment by seizing and kissing her.  A moment of vulnerability takes a more aggressive, sexual turn. Men’s rule: Never show your weaknesses.
            In another scene, by-the-book Bernstein crosses the line and risks his career by becoming sexually involved with Meg, but only after confirming in his own mind Meg’s innocence. He rationalizes his involvement with the needs of his investigation, but soon assumes the role of protector for both the target—the grandmother—and the target’s grand-daughter. Jake shows, not by words of affection, but by action alone his feelings for Meg. That his investigation has been compromised creates a moral and practical dilemma for Jake, which he deals with in his own inimitable way. His lonely search for love supercedes the need for justice, but only temporarily. Ultimately, Jake turns things around. Justice does prevail in the end, but not in the way some might expect or hope.
            Surliness, cynicism and sarcasm are all accepted male attributes, especially in tough “alpha” males. From the lone gunslinger to the “Mission Impossible” stoical action hero, the alpha male feels, suffers, but never complains. Especially not to females. He might be flawed, drink or smoke too much, pick the wrong woman, or put himself in life-threatening situations, but HE NEVER COMPLAINS and NEVER CRIES. Remember an incredulous Tom Hanks exhorting his female baseball players, “There’s no crying in baseball!”?  There are unspoken mottos of machismo among men: NO CRYING EVER.  TAKE IT LIKE A MAN. WALK LIKE A MAN. TOUGHEN UP AND STAND TALL.  Those attitudes are deep-seated and intrinsic to a male’s psyche. My seven year-old grandson already has incorporated those mottos into his outlook and behavior, and the male role models in his life are sensitive, educated, verbally gifted men. Somehow, through osmosis of cultural mores, little boys learn what is necessary to WALK LIKE A MAN.
            “Defending the Caveman”, a one-man comedy show, reminded me recently of the male mindset and male speech. Men tend to get confused when women are verbose. Like their canine counterparts, they look for tone of voice and body language because they know that women don’t always say what they mean or mean what they say. Look at classic passive-aggressive power struggles between men and women. Men have difficulty arguing back, so they are more inclined to switch to passive-aggressive mode. They don’t like taking orders from a woman, and so if a woman nags a man to be home by five o’clock sharp, you can bet he’ll find something to do until five-thirty. Passive-aggression is a man’s stock in trade. Or he’ll take the opposite stance and just tell you to “fuck off”.
            As a rule, however, men tend to clean up their language when in mixed-gender company, and that’s one of the main appeals of men-only clubs and teams. In such an environment, they can blow off steam, scratch themselves, belch outloud, insult each other with “dickhead” and “butt-wipe” and laugh. And still remain good buddies.  Imagine women going up to their girlfriends with a greeting like “Hi, fatty” or “Still wearing that old, ratty shirt?” That’d be the end of that friendship. With men, such insults are just friendly talk, a sign of good-humored male-aggression and tolerance. Listen in on a men-only poker game. Or go see the musical, “Jersey Boys”.  There’s a reason why men loved that musical but hated “Mama Mia”.
            Listen to men when they don’t realize a woman is around. Very hard to do because their sexual antennae always lets them know when a female is nearby or within earshot. But if you can avoid being detected, just tune in to them and listen with an open mind to their speech. It’s hilarious and, for a woman writer, quite an education. Go ahead. Do it. You’ll see what I mean.
A BODYGUARD OF LIES
(release: Jan. 13th) 
Has a dual setting, a contemporary one and a WWII/London setting. It’s a blend of romance, mystery and WWII espionage. I researched it while in England, Ireland and Germany in 2009. The story involves a Jewish-American FBI analyst, who’s recruited by MI-5 to go undercover and investigate a naturalized American grandmother. The elderly woman is suspected by MI-5 of being a notorious Nazi spy never caught by the Allies during the war, who caused the deaths of thousands and is wanted for war crimes. Jake Bernstein runs into a series of unexpected obstacles and complications: This spy knows a secret that could endanger the royal family; the old woman has a beautiful granddaughter who threatens to derail his investigation; a neo-Nazi group in Ireland known as the Celtic Wolves; and a clever, cagey old woman who’s not as weak as she looks.
Donna Del Oro spent her childhood in two places, Silicon Valley, CA and the countryside of East Texas, as her father tried several job opportunities. Finally settling in Silicon Valley, she grew up in a bilingual, bicultural world–Spanish on her mother’s side and English on her father’s. Comfortable in both worlds, she decided upon retiring from teaching to write about her Hispanic side. Four women’s fiction books resulted and a series about professional singers, their careers and love lives. Retired and devoting much of her abundant free time to exercise, writing, singing and her grandson, Donna has finally reached a point in life that totally satisfies her. Life is good and she has no complaints, just a lot of gratitude for her many blessings.
Website
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Spotlight Feature of Hot Summer by Judy Powell

A hot-tempered spitfire and a sexy, arrogant man – put them together and sparks fly!

After her first embarrassing encounter Summer Jones vows to stay away from suave record producer, Lance Munroe. But then she ends up working for the man. Her quick temper and sharp tongue keep landing her in hot water with him but no matter how hard she tries she can’t deny her growing attraction for him. Then they go on a business trip to Jamaica – and her world is turned upside down.
Lance is intrigued by the feisty woman who practically tells him off the first time they meet. When they begin working together he realizes how much he enjoys the challenge of taming the little tigress. But, before he knows it, he’s the one caught in the snare of passion. The tables are turned – the tigress has tamed the lion.
If you love the sizzle of a romance between two strong-willed individuals, follow Summer and Lance from Chicago to Jamaica and be swept away in the thrill of their hot summer.

Judy Powell is a writer and marketing consultant who lives in Ontario, Canada. Her works are diverse, featuring romance novels, a historical novel and non-fiction essays which have appeared in anthologies.  Her titles include ‘Hot Summer’ which placed second in the Toronto Romance Writers Contemporary Romance Competition, ‘Hot Chocolat’ – the sequel to ‘Hot Summer’, ‘Some Like It Hot’ – a sensual multicultural romance novel, and ‘Coffee, Cream and Curry’ – a literary work which received the silver medal in a national creative writing competition. 

Judy is a great lover of learning which is reflected in the diversity of her studies which includes Masters degrees in Spanish, Marketing, Literature and Creative Writing and a BA in Foreign Languages & International Business. She is a member of Phi Beta Kappa (US Honor Society), Romance Writers of America, Toronto Romance Writers, and Writers and Editors Network of Canada.  She loves to travel and has lived in countries including Puerto Rico, the USA, France, Jamaica and Canada.  She likes to feature diverse cultures in her works. 
Website
EXCERPT
As he spoke he leaned back into the couch and peered up at her through half-closed eyes. She turned away from his gaze and quickly opened the bottles and poured bubbling liquid into both glasses.
“Here you go,” she said with a smile and handed him the drink. She sat on the edge of the sofa beside him but as far away as was polite. She put the glass to her lips and sipped the sharp cold liquid, feeling the bubbles bursting in her mouth.
She felt his eyes on her and gulped more liquid, then opened her eyes wide as it flooded her throat. Her eyes burned and she struggled to swallow but it was no use. Before she could cover her mouth she coughed violently, spraying her lap and the coffee table with soda.
Summer clapped her hands over her mouth, but too late. The damage was already done.  Her eyes grew huge with distress and she looked across at Lance, hot with embarrassment.
“Are you alright?” He’d quickly rested his glass on the table and was leaning towards her, a large white handkerchief in his hand. She took it gratefully, still coughing. Then the spasms gradually subsided and she was able to look at him again. Her eyes were brimming with tears.
“Are you crying?” He looked incredulous, almost out of his depth, as he raised his hand and wiped away a tear with his thumb.
Summer dabbed at her eyes, sniffed, then looked up at him again, her lips curling into a grin.  “Of course not, silly. I’m not crying. It’s the coughing that made my eyes fill up with tears.” Somehow, seeing him look so nonplussed had made her more at ease with him.
“Silly, huh?” He smiled back at her.  “You’re the one who gulped down a carbonated drink too fast and ended up losing the whole lot all over yourself. So, who’s silly?”
While he was speaking Lance had rested his arm at the back of the couch right behind her head and had begun to gently stroke her nape with his thumb. Summer swallowed hard but couldn’t get the lump out of her throat.
 “I guess…I am,” she said, her voice breathless.
“Yes,” he whispered as he leaned forward to press his warm lips against the side of her neck, “you are.”
Summer’s breath came in shallow gasps as she sat still, not feeling she could move even if she wanted to. She was like a bird frozen in the mesmerizing stare of a snake, knowing it was about to be eaten alive but not able to make a move to save its own life.
She moaned and closed her eyes as his lips stroked the sensitive skin then moved to the base of her throat where he licked softly and gently. She didn’t realize that she was still clutching the handkerchief tightly in her hand until she felt his strong fingers pry hers open to pull it away so that he could seduce her palm with his thumb.
“Relax, baby.” He moved his lips up her neck and to her ear.  “You’re so tense. Just relax.”
As he spoke he pushed her back gently into the plush pillows and began to nibble her ear lobe. He gave a lick just behind her ear and shock waves ran down her spine.
“Oh, God,” she breathed, “what are you doing to me?”
“What someone should have done to you a long time ago, Summer Jones,” he whispered.  “Teach you what it means to be a woman.”
He dipped his head and slid his lips back down her neck, over her collar bone and down to that oh, so sensitive place between the curves of her breasts. Here he paused and she held her breath, eyes shut tight, wondering if he was going to stop now. She prayed he wouldn’t.
She was not disappointed. An involuntary gasp escaped her lips as he slipped a warm tongue down her cleavage, sliding it between the orbs and teasing her soft flesh until her body screamed and she felt she would die from the sweet sensation. She grabbed the back of his head and pressed him into her, wanting more of the pleasure, more of the sweetness…
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Guest blogger: Betty Midnight

Please welcome Betty Midnight to the blog:  
Why are werewolves just so damn sexy?
I get offered this question every now and again and each time it’s given to me, I sort of freeze.  There’s an obvious surge in the creatures who used to be more horror than objects of lust, people exploring some of their own personal fantasies and while we think about strong men or sexy cowboys, why not toss in a vampire or a werewolf here and there?
Sure, there have been books and movies that glorify them, turning them into these masses of men who can protect, love, and other things, but essentially, I think it comes down to the deep desire in us all to flirt with danger and death.
In my latest release, Hadyn Heat (Book One – The Urge), it explores the deepest urges of a man who is also a wolf.  More so, the story begins with Hadyn not just exploring his urges, but also testing danger.  He knows just how series it is to enjoy the company of a human woman, but he does it anyway.  And the same could be said for the woman, Sarah, as when she’s faced with a giant wolf, she doesn’t panic… she lusts for the wolf.  Something tells her to let her guard down and enjoy the risk of it all.  Sure, Hadyn as a wolf could have torn Sarah to shreds, but Sarah was okay with that risk because the reward that came instead of death was the most pleasure filled experience of her life.
When women are saved by the strong and sexy cowboys, there are done usually with a shootout where the hero takes out the bad guy and rides off into the sunset.  The same holds true for the darker creatures we long for.  The werewolf can change into a wolf and defeat the bad guys and then turn back into man with a hint of sweat and blood and take the woman away.
We love this kind of writing, and style of writing.  The action, the drama, and in the background, the passion and heat of it all swarming like a nest of angry bees.  I wrote Hadyn Heat to test the boundaries of a man coping with becoming himself.  A man who was a wolf.  A man who enjoyed his urges – whether they be for man or woman.  And finally, as the story progresses, a man who realizes what consequences are and instead of running from them, he dives into them, knowing that his life is on the line.  It’s all symbolic to me, the meaning of life into a work of fiction… who we are, what we want, and the things we will do to become that person.  I just prefer to toss in a tall, sexy wolf here and there… and be honest, you know you enjoy it.
Hadyn Heat
The Urge
links:  Amazon | B&N  | Smashword
As a man and as a wolf, Hadyn has been trying to control his urges.
After catching the scent of a beautiful woman named Sarah, Hadyn finds her and loses all control of his urges.
The pleasure was great, but the mistake was greater, for an evil man has been lurking for a long time, hoping to take control of the world. After kidnapping Sarah, the destructive man named Valon now can finalize his own plan: to have Hadyn mate with his daughter.
He uses Sarah and her lust for Hadyn to draw him in.
The urges grow worse for Hadyn and it seems nobody can stop him, not even his roommate and secret lover, another male wolf named Taylor.
The fate of Hadyn, Sarah, his pack, and the world are in the balance… but can he control his desperate sexual urges long enough to save it all?
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Guest Bloggers: Leia Shaw & Cari Silverwood talk about 31 Flavors

Writing the Perfect Romance
There are any number of reasons why us writers choose to pen a romance – fun, a desperate need to tell stories, a need for more alpha males in our lives, money…Leia and I had all those and one extra one. So many of the romances out there are well, romantic. The men are ten feet tall with ten inch dicks and pretty much always get it right. And we women like that don’t we? Having a man who can almost read our minds, who knows just the right spot to nibble, lick or smack?
In BDSM romances the Dom or dominant male seems to become even more idealized. He is often the experienced one who can take his woman to the height of a world-shuddering orgasm with the precision application of ropes, cuffs, floggers and maybe a few more exotic pieces of equipment like candles, feathers or pieces of ginger used in a very naughty way.
A lot of women have a desire for some aspect of BDSM. It’s a fact supported by many surveys over the years. And although we all pretty much know that fiction is fiction, there does seem to be an extra potent effect when women first realize their desires may have a real life possibility of being forfilled. That they may not be freaks. That there may be a man out there who shares their desires for something kinky. I’ve seen a lot of women ready to kneel at the feet of almost the first real man who answers to the dominant label.
The problem is, even Doms are human. They aren’t perfect. They do make mistakes, and they do have to start somewhere.
Both Leia and I saw the need for a real story and since one of our friends had the same idea, was ready to let us tell her story, and hell, she even had a silly side to her that made writing the story fun, we went with it.
So here it is. 31 Flavors is the story of one married couple’s first foray into the land of BDSM. It’s not perfect. Sid’s husband Nick, is not infallible, and some of their mistakes may make you chuckle out loud. The comedy in the book , as well as the steamy sex seems to be grabbing our readers, and that’s good. Because as one reviewer has said,
“Wow… just wow! This novel is brilliantly written, it is well balanced with humor (at some parts hilarious), saucy sex scenes and genuine life drama.
There were times while reading that I thought “OMG that’s so true”, and there were times that just wanted to jump into the novel and give Sidney a hug and say, “never ever doubt who you are”. I was captured from the get go…”
We hope you enjoy reading it as well as perhaps ending the novel with some new insights on what can make a marriage hum.
There are some things in life you have to try before you know how they will affect you.
After 5 years of awful sex, I was ready. Bondage and spanking had always featured in my fantasies, and one day, I convinced my husband to try them. That day was a turning point.
Ice cream comes in many flavors and that’s us too – not vanilla, maybe not Rocky Road either. We can be a combination or make up our own and no one has the right to judge us.
But there will always be one question that tears at my soul: Will my husband, Nick, ever be happy with what I crave?
About Us: 31 Flavors is a book that is heavily based on a true love story. Although the sex scenes are obviously fictionalized, much of it really happened. This isn’t just another erotic BDSM story. We both felt (Leia and Cari) there was a place for a novel where the readers might draw parallels with their own      lives — a story where idealistic, perfect people did not exist, where mistakes are made, and in particular, where the top or Dom is not some godlike creation and the submissive or bottom is just your average girl-next-door.
Cari Silverwood: Cari writes stories that leap from the page and blast you from your bed. Heroines who will come rescue you and    heroes who will drag you back to bed by your hair and ravish you endlessly. Did she mention there was sex and adventure in her stories? 
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Guest blogger: Blair McDowell


Show, Don’t Tell

Who among us has not seen those dreaded words in the margin of a manuscript?   It sounds so easy.  “Show, don’t tell. ”
Those of us who are, shall we say, of more mature years, are programmed to tell.  Our parents and grandparents told us stories.  Charles Dickens and Jane Austen and Conan Doyle and Agatha Christie and Dostoyevsky all told their stories.  And they were very good stories indeed.
But the times have changed.  The shift in reader expectations from passive to active involvement in stories began, I believe, with motion pictures in the early decades of the twentieth century.  Movies pulled people into their stories in a way print never had.  For the first time stories were made visual.  Of course, plays existed before.  But only a minute proportion of the population ever went to the theater.  With the advent of movies, suddenly drama was available to everyone.
Then came television.  Living other people’s stories was no longer a once-a-week movie experience, it became a nightly event.  Drama came into people’s living rooms and captured an audience far beyond that of most books. Plots moved fast.  They had to.  There was only a half hour or hour time slot in which to draw[L1]  the audience into the story.  The story was visual.  The actions observable.  Emotions were shown, not described.  No imagination was necessary on the part of the viewer.  It was all there to see and to hear and to identify with.  
Video games came next.  Action at the speed of light with the players in charge of the story.
A result of all this recent history is that we as writers must adapt to a very different set of reader expectations than our predecessors.  Today’s readers expect to see the story.  And a natural corollary of this is that they want their stories to move faster, to be shorter.  Where the 90,000 to 110,000 word novel used to be the norm, now shorter works are more in demand.
            Stories [L2] must pull readers quickly into the experiences of the characters.  From the first page they must feel what our characters feel, see what they see.  Hear, smell, taste, touch, vicariously what our characters see, hear, smell, taste, touch.  The use of all five senses is vital to helping readers live our stories.
I rely heavily on the five senses in my stories.  In The Memory of Roses, the scent of that flower is a connecting link between the two love stories and forms a continuous thread from the beginning to the end of the novel.  In Delighting In Your Company, the ghost hero sings and whistles the tune, Greensleeves from the first pages to the last.  Abigail’s Christmas is replete with the sights, sounds and scents of Christmas.  Using the five senses is one of the easier ways of showing.  
 We cannot simply say that a character is sad, happy, nervous, tense, anxious.  We must show what the character is doing that physically expresses the emotion he/she is feeling.  This is not always easy.  But this is what “Show, don’t tell” means.
Here are two ways to tell whether we’ve slipped into telling where we should be showing.  
The first and most obvious is the use of the words “feel” “feeling” and “felt”.  If any of these words is present in a sentence, we’re probably not showing, we’re telling.  A computer search of the manuscript for these words will let us know immediately where we need to revise.
Amy felt deeply saddened as she looked around her father’s empty study.  
Clearly, this is telling.  What actions could we have Amy do that would show the reader she is sad?  If she were an actress with no lines to speak in this scene, what could she do to let us know how she feels?
She could sigh.  She could brush her hand across his desk and shake her head.  If she is deeply distressed she could cry.  She put her head in her hands.  Her body might slump.  We need to tap into the physical actions, the behaviors that indicate sorrow.  
Another area where it is easy to fall into “telling” rather than “showing” is the point in the story at which we describe what our hero or heroine looks like.
Telling: Amy had short auburn hair that never looked quite combed.  
Showing: Amy ran a brush through her short auburn hair and shrugged.  She knew it never looked combed but she really didn’t care.  
Telling: Andy had well-muscled shoulders and a broad chest.
Showing: Amy leaned against Andy, taking comfort from his strong arms and the solidity of his chest.  
Telling: Amy set about cooking breakfast for the kids.
Showing:  The bacon began to sizzle.  Amy turned to the stove, cracked four farm-fresh eggs into the hot bacon fat and watched as the edges began to brown.  Three pajama clad boys tumbled into the kitchen.  Amy smiled.  Nothing like the smell of bacon and eggs to rouse the troops .
Hearing, seeing and smelling were all a part of the above example.  When we draw on the five senses in a scene we always come closer to showing.
Any time we name an emotion we are telling rather than showing.  Almost any time we use a word with an “ly” ending (gladly, sadly, grudgingly, happily, etc.  etc) we are telling, not showing.  I regularly do a computer search for ly.  Sometimes I leave the word.  But usually I try to find an observable action that will express the behavior indicated by the “ly”.
Show, don’t tell means that we must live inside our character’s minds and have them behave in ways that demonstrate their feelings and thoughts, their reactions to the situations in which we place them.  Above all we must make it possible for our readers to become involved in what’s happening in our stories, to be a part of our hero’s journey.



Blair McDowell wrote her first short story when she was eleven and hasn’t stopped writing
since. After many years producing non-fiction professional books in her field, Blair decided to
exercise her rich imagination and write novels of mystery and romance set in places she knows and loves, peopled with characters drawn from her experiences in those locales.
One of her favorite places in the world is Greece, the setting for ‘The Memory of Roses’, Blair McDowell’s latest novel. While in Greece Blair was inspired by the ancient culture, friendly people and the picturesque settings, and the plot for the ‘Memory of Roses’ was born.
Blair has a home on a remote island in the Caribbean where the local lore of the ‘Jumbie’ (‘the dead who walk’) formed the basis for her novel of that name.
The setting for Blair McDowell’s book, ‘Sonata’, is the spectacular city of Vancouver with its
vibrant multicultural population and its rich musical life. In ‘Sonata’, Blair McDowell’s love of
music comes into play, and is intricately woven into this story of mystery and romance.
Blair is a member of the Romance Writers of America, Romance Writers of America (Greater
Vancouver Chapter), and the Romance Writers of America (Women’s Fiction).
Website / Facebook
Buy Links: Amazon / Nook / All Romance / Ebookstrand

The Memory of Roses
The Greek island of Corfu unearths the enduring love stories of two generations of the
McQuaid family. First, renowned archaeologist Ian McQuaid meets the love of his life while
recuperating from an illness contracted during a dig in Crete. Even though he is married, his wife had not been a passionate partner for many years, and the appearance of the stunning Maria Calbrese was a miracle sent to him at the lowest point in his life.
Then a generation later, Ian’s daughter Brit travels to Corfu after his death. He left Brit a note
disclosing that he owned a villa on Corfu, and that when he was there he had fallen in love with a
woman named Maria while still married to Brit’s mother. He asked Brit to deliver a package to Maria, who he thought lived somewhere in Venice. Determined to fulfill her father’s requests and return quickly to the US, Brit’s plan is soon derailed. She meets archaeologist Dr. Andreas Leandros who looks like the Greek gods of ancient times, and her own damaged heart begins to come alive.
What does the mysterious package contain, and how will Brit find Maria as requested by her
father? Will finding her change Brit’s life? Will she manage to preserve her bond with Andreas, or will she return to the US to live out her life without him?
Excerpt:
It was on June eleventh that he met her. He had gone to Adriatika for his evening meal. It was a
week night and he had lingered over his late afternoon swim. By the time he arrived, the few other diners were well into their meals.
“What have you for me tonight, my friend?” he asked.
“Ah! You are in luck. We have Rabbit Steffado and I’ve kept a portion back for you.”
Ian settled into his chair at his regular table and opened his book. He’d long had the habit of
reading in restaurants until his food arrived. It kept him from feeling lonely.
He heard a commotion at the door and glanced up from his book to see a stunning young woman in conversation with Yiannis.
“Of course you are not too late, Signorina,” Yiannis was saying as he showed her to a table. “We
always look forward to your return in June. Did you have a pleasant journey from Venice?”
“Pleasant enough, Yiannis. I hope you have some of your Rabbit Steffado for me tonight. I’ve been looking forward to it for months.”
“Alas, I am afraid the last portion was just ordered by someone else,” he said, nodding in the
general direction of Ian’s table. “But I have a very nice fish if you’re interested.”
“Hmm. I’ll think about it. Meanwhile, if you could bring me a pitcher of your good house wine…”
“Of course.”
Ian went back to reading his book. Suddenly he sensed that he wasn’t alone. He looked up to see
the woman who’d just entered the restaurant standing at his table, a brimming pitcher of wine in her hand. She was tall and full breasted, her long ebony hair swung loosely to her shoulders and her eyes were dark and lively. Her face could have come from a Botticelli painting, beautifully oval, classically Italian. She wore a low necked blouse that seemed to fall off one shoulder and a full skirt that emphasized her small waist.
He realized with a shock that she was speaking to him in English and that he hadn’t heard a word
she had said.
“I beg your pardon?”
“I said I assume you speak English since you’re reading a book in that language. If you’d rather, we could speak in Italian. My Greek is a bit primitive.”
Confused, Ian managed to stutter, “English will be fine.”
“Good. I have a proposition for you.” She smiled.
Ian thought whatever it is the answer is yes. He merely nodded.
“You,” she resumed accusingly, “you have ordered the last portion of Rabbit Steffado. I’ve been
looking forward to Rabbit Steffado for months. I propose that we should enjoy that rabbit together. There is always enough for two in Yiannis’ portions. Meanwhile we can order some of Catarina’s eggplant and a salad to start and,” here she held up the pitcher, “I already have the wine.” She waited expectantly.
Ian threw back his head and laughed for the first time in months. “Please,” he said, getting up
quickly and pulling out a chair for her, “Be my guest. I’m Ian McQuaid.”
Over the eggplant she told him she was from Venice and that her name was Maria. “I always spend six weeks here at this time of the year. And this is my favorite restaurant on Corfu. I always came here on my first night back.”
They worked their way through the appetizers laughing and chatting about their experiences on
Corfu as if they were old friends.
The rabbit arrived at the table, steaming and aromatic in its rich sauce. Maria ladled it on to their
plates. “So what brings you to Corfu?”
Ian somehow didn’t want to admit his recent illness to this young woman who was the picture of
health and vitality. “I was working on Crete and I decided to take some time off. A friend suggested Corfu.”
“What do you do on Crete?”
“I’m an archaeologist. My special area is Bronze-Age societies, the Minoans in particular. Knossos, on Crete, is one of the best preserved Minoan sites in the world. I’ve been working there off and on for some years.”
“You’re an American aren’t you? Your accent isn’t British.”
“Yes. I’m a professor at Stanford University in California. But I spend half of every year in Greece.”
They continued to chat and laugh their way through the rest of meal.
Ian could hardly take his eyes off of her. She was so utterly alive. Her mobile face telegraphed her every thought and mood. When she laughed at his stories her whole face lit up. When she was serious,her eyes held the reflective calm of a mountain lake. He found her utterly entrancing. By the time they’d finished dessert he was wondering how he could prolong the evening, how he could arrange to see her again.
Then he reminded himself that he was still married, that he’d no right to become involved with
this young vibrant creature sitting at his table. And that surely she would have no interest in him, a middle-aged man graying at the temples and many years her senior. Regretfully, when Catarina began closing the shutters, he moved to pay the bill. “Please allow me,” he said. “You’ve given me so much pleasure tonight.”
She nodded and rose to leave.
Outside the restaurant, she paused confused, and looked around. “Where’s your car?”
“Actually, I don’t have one. I haven’t found much need for one here. I walk everyplace. The house I’m renting is just up the hill a mile or so.”
“Please let me drive you home,” she said. “I insist. It is small payment for that lovely dinner.”
Ten minutes longer with her, Ian thought. Ten minutes more of her lovely voice and beautiful
face. “Of course,” he responded.
She drove efficiently and competently. He watched the shadows and light fall on her face as she
navigated the curves of the narrow, winding country road.
“Turn here,” he instructed as they reached the open gates to the property. She came to a stop at
the circle in front of the villa. The fountain was splashing, its dolphins alive in the moonlight.
“What a beautiful spot.” She said. They sat in silence for a moment, neither quite willing to end the evening.
“You could come in for a brandy,” he suggested.
They got as far as the front door. Later they could neither of them remember who moved first.
They were in each other’s arms, tearing at their clothing, stumbling up the steps toward the bedroom. Frustrated with their slow progress Ian swept her up into his arms and carried her to his bed, covering her with his body. They made love wordlessly, frantically, as if their very lives depended on their being together in this way at this moment.
When the storm had passed, Ian tried to speak. “I had no right to do this,” he said. “I’m married.”
“Of course you are,” she replied. “No man as attractive as you could be single. Not at your age. I
came to you willingly, I asked for no commitment. We have here and now. We have tonight. Let’s not ask for more.”
He buried his face in her fragrant hair.
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Guest blogger: Elise Whyles

Books-n-Kisses is pleased to let Elise Whyles take over the blog today.

Finding a happy place with a writing partner.
When I came up with the idea of a series about mythical beings I never believed it would ever get as large as it did. I was thinking four books maybe, but I knew I couldn’t do it alone.
So I approached my writer friend Ciara Lake, who was interested. Together we sat down and brainstormed and worked out the details on the idea I’d given birth to. Was it all easy sailing, no. I wish it were.
When you have two distinct personalities and writing voices working together there are always going to be bumps in the road no matter how close the writers are.  Countless hours were spent discussing things like who was writing what? When were the books due in? Who would we submit them to? What exactly was each author responsible for?
Not all easy to answer questions. We’d discuss something, get it worked out and move on only to find ourselves having to revisit the topic because we’d missed the mark in some fashion. Communication in writing is a key element in my opinion. We’ve done a lot together, worked hard on this series and we’ve had a blast.
At the same time we missed the boat on several things – and found out after the fact there were things which didn’t sit well with one or both of us. Back to the drawing board lol, so we hashed it out. Debated, discussed, asked for outside input, and reach a decision we’re both happy with.
There are moments when I think an author needs to be aware of their motivations, their goals. In a single career there’s never any question about this because we’re all aware of where we want to go. When you have a partnership with a co-author then you have to rely on contracts, communication, and an open discussion to help guide you.
Our journey to the ‘happy-place’ has been long, with a few minor bumps, but over all we’ve had fun, and we’re both learning. Doesn’t mean we both always are happy – but that’s life and art. Sometimes you just have to compromise on the small stuff to keep the bigger picture in vivid Technicolor.


Among us walk immortal beings – cursed to hide within the shadows they live along side us as they have for centuries. Using, feeding, living off the mortals so reviled for their weakness – yet there are some who will be awakened and immortality will be given.
Now, an ancient evil stirs – rising to threaten not only the Immortal Realms but the mortal world. A cursed vampire General stirs, plotting his revenge on those who have forsaken him…but he’s forgotten about the innocent, who like him have been punished.
There are those who are Forsaken.
It could be anyone among us…

The first book, Forsaken Heart by Elise Whyles is set to release in April 2012. 

The second book Curse of a Dargon’s Claim  by Ciara Lake will release shortly after.