Over at Writer’s Evolution, we’ve been talking about teachers to whom we’d like to say HA! Or, in my case, Bite me!
Come on over and find out how I became the Bride of Satan.
Soooooo, it’s getting down to the wire and I haven’t packed a damn thing for the Authors After Dark Conference in New Jersey.
Most of it will be no big deal in terms of throwing stuff together. Some of it will require an archeological dig in my office. Yeah, never did get around to cleaning it this summer. Today, I’ll pay for that transgression. Sigh…
I’m looking so forward to hanging with Brynn, Mia, Carol, Jen and finally meeting and hanging with Kris, too! It’s gonna be AWESOME. I promise, there will be pictures and likely embarrassing stories upon my return. If I get a few minutes and the internet doesn’t cost a small fortune, I’ll try to pop on during the conference.
In the meanwhile, the fanfreakingtastic Chaos Chris is kindly running a contest for a copy of my latest release, Maggie’s Mates. If you’d like a chance to win a copy, please stop by her blog, Stumbling Over Chaos, and enter!
Also, there are cute kitteh pictures there. You should go see. 🙂
I’ve discovered something important yesterday afternoon.
Dark Warm Blonde hair color is definitely not the same as Medium Warm Blonde hair color.
I thought I’d freshen up my hair before the AAD conference next week, and quick dyed it before I picked up the kids from school. I thought it looked a little dark, but I was in a hurry, so I left with wet hair. It dried on the way to school, but I still didn’t really notice how dark it was until Killian, Not-Kevin and Justin got in the car.
Justin: (in a faux whisper) Hey, Killian. I think Mrs. Killian’s Mommy did something to her air.
Not-Kevin: Mrs. Killian’s Mommy, did you do something to your hair? We’re boys and we don’t typically notice stuff like this, but it seems like chemicals were involved.
Killian: You have dye on your face. Way to fail.
Normally, I go with the medium warm blonde which turns out to be a light reddish brown. I now have dark auburn hair. I’m getting used to it, and kinda liking it.
I’m also getting used to doing dishes in two plastic basins on my kitchen table. I’m not liking this at all. Not even a little.
My freaking kitchen sink has been backed up for almost a week with several inches of standing water. Nothing’s worked – snaking, drain cleaner, plunging. Matt hasn’t had time to take apart the pipes, and I’m not about to because I have a very bad habit of making things worse.
It’s a gift.
So…hopefully this weekend he can fix it, because the plastic basin thing? Not cutting it.
Cait saw the backed up sink the other day and said, “Oh…creating your own West Nile Virus water feature?”
Bitch.
It’s Killian’s birthday, today. He’s 16.
I was foolishly looking through baby pictures – foolish, because now I’m feeling like a bit of a sad panda that my boy has gotten so old so quickly. I blinked and he went from wearing his Harry Potter robes everyday and flying around on his broomstick to texting his girlfriend (!) constantly.
I’m acutely aware of the fact that there are plenty of parents who would give anything to see their children turn 16 and never will, so I refuse to be depressed about it. I’m lucky to have this great kid. He very rarely gives me grief about anything, he’s pretty helpful, he’s kind and funny and sarcastic. He’s pretty much the perfect kid for me. Note: I didn’t say perfect – just perfect for our family. I feel incredibly lucky to have gotten this one.
This is Killian at about 18 months (and my mama). Whenever my mom comes over, the first thing she does is put the kettle on the stove for tea. Doesn’t matter if it’s winter or summer – there must be tea. When Killian was little, she’d always share her tea with him. In fact, as soon as she’d walk in, his little face would light up and he’d run to the kitchen gate babbling, “Grammywansometea.” Which translates to “Grammy want some tea?” We still joke that Grammywansometea is her Native American name.
Damn…I still need to make cake!
I’ve had a lot of people ask me if Lucas and Quinn, two secondary characters, from Just Right, would ever get a story of their own. The answer to that has been, “Yes, as soon as I can get around to it.”
Well, I got around to it, and their story releases today! Maggie’s Mates is available now at Resplendence Publishing! I’m so excited! (as evidenced by the abuse of exclamation marks!)
Here’s the blurb:
Having recently ended a bad relationship, Maggie Ryan returns to her hometown in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula to discover things aren’t quite the way she remembers. Her childhood friends, Quinn and Lucas Makwa, are all grown up and keeping secrets. The shape-shifters want Maggie for their mate, but she’s not sure she wants to trust another man—let alone two that can shift into black bears at will.
And an excerpt:
Trapped in Quinn’s heated gaze, Maggie couldn’t look away. Hell, she could barely remember to breathe.
“I don’t think that scene at the diner was an act for Jason’s benefit,” Lucas commented, trailing a path down her forearm with his fingertip. “Maybe it was when you started it,” he amended. “But I think you forgot about him pretty quick.”
Maggie’s stomach dropped to her feet as she teetered atop the highest hill she’d ever climbed. But she couldn’t bring herself to push them away or to move. She couldn’t deny it. Her panties were still damp from the experience.
“I’m guessing,” Quinn began, his voice like dark velvet, “that now you can’t help but wonder what it would be like.” His lips quirked. “You always were a curious one.” He toyed with the seam of her jeans, tracing the fraying line of fabric near her knee and sending tendrils of need coursing through her.
Lucas’ lips brushed the outer shell of her ear. “Are you curious now, Maggie?”
Her lips parted. She wanted to speak, but no sound came out. Somehow, she found the strength to nod her head.
Quinn’s lips curved in a near-feral grin that sent nervous energy coiling through her middle. “Me, too.”
She couldn’t have looked away if she’d wanted to.
“So am I,” Lucas murmured as he pressed a kiss to the sensitive skin behind her ear.
Her breath caught in her chest as the arousal she’d pushed aside earlier came rushing back. Her nipples beaded, and her breasts ached to be touched. Her folds dampened as she remembered the sensations of their erections pushing against her. She wanted their hands on her. She wanted their mouths on her. She wanted to know what it felt like to take both men at the same time. At least once in her life, she wanted to know what it was like to be truly desired.
But was that a mistake? Reality and guilt niggled their way into her thoughts.
“I-I don’t know if this is such a great idea. I don’t want to ruin our friendship, and you need to know, I’m not looking for anything permanent. Not after Jason.”
“Jason’s an asshole,” Lucas bit out. “Forget about him.”
Quinn shot his brother a look. “Let us help you forget him.”
I’d like to introduce you all to my dear friend, Jen/Abigail. No, she doesn’t have MPD…although, sometimes I wonder. She’s got a brand new writing persona for her fanfreakingtastic erotic romances.
To celebrate the release of her first ever erotic romance, I’ve interviewed Jen/Abigail AND she’s giving away a .PDF of her new Vampire-Pirate romance, Ravenous, available here from Samhain Publishing. Just leave a comment here and feel free to ask questions. (Leave a comment by 9/9/10 at 8pm)
Bio: The alter-ego of USA Today Bestselling Author Jennifer Armintrout, Abigail Barnette was born during a conversation with author Bronwyn Green, who encouraged Jennifer to develop an elaborate fantasy persona– complete with nom de plume– under which to pen erotic romance. Abigail enjoys long naps in fairy-filled glades, running through corridors in tragically romantic haunted castles, and drinking goblet after goblet of spiced wine.
What to know more about the wonder that is Jen/Abigail? Read on, dear readers!
Tell us about a typical day in the life of Jennifer Armintrout/Abgail Barnette.
Jennifer wakes up in the morning feeling like P. Diddy, but that feeling immediately fades when she remembers she has two kids to run around after and a stack of dishes to clean. Luckily, the children are trained to worship the television so she can get some writing done. And by writing, I mean trolling internet forums. Abigail’s day is much different. She wakes up in the morning feeling like P. Diddy, and the feeling lasts all day.
What type of research do you do for your books?
Very little. I generally will get an idea in my mind for a setting or a time period, then flip through a few websites to get a general feel, and then if a specific question comes up, I try to find the answer. The best thing about the “historical” stuff I’m writing as Abigail is that it’s very, very velour. I don’t have to know how to bake bread in a stone hutch or something.
From what or where do you derive the most inspiration for your stories?
Abigail’s stories come from a very naughty place in my brain that will look at a historical gown and think, “I bet it would be hot to get f***ed wearing that.
Tell us about your upcoming releases.
September 7th I have Abigail’s first book, Ravenous, coming out from Samhain, and that’s a story about hot vampire on human romancing on a pirate ship. Pirate vampires. Then in November, I think, I have Glass Slipper coming out from Resplendence. That one is just what it sounds like, a retelling of Cinderella in which a beautiful, but impoverished, maiden is trained by her weathly, handsome godfather to be a perfect seductress in the hopes that she’ll snag the prince by the… nose.
What are you working on at the moment?
Right now I’m working on the first in a planned trilogy of steampunk erotica set in a kinky Victorian sex club. What do you like best about being a writer? What do you like least?
The thing I like best is being able to work from home. I can wear my pajamas, I can have a beer at ten in the morning and I don’t have to hide it in a thermos. It’s pretty much the most awesome job I can think of. But the downside is the crippling doubt. You’re trying to entertain your reader, and it’s a very strange feeling, kind of like being a stand-up comic or something, worrying about whether or not people will boo you.
What would you do if you weren’t a writer?
Yikes, I don’t even want to think of such a possibility. I’d have to go to college.
What do you enjoy doing when you’re not writing?
Sleeping. It’s not a sexy answer, but there, I said it. I love naps.
Of all of the characters you’ve created, who is your favorite and why?
Oh, that’s very difficult, because they’re all likable to me, in some way. I think my favorite character I’ve written as Abigail is Julien Auvrey, from the upcoming Glass Slipper, because he’s just a bit past his prime and trying to deal with the fact that people don’t see him as the dashing young rake anymore.
Do you find it difficult to keep love/sex scenes fresh and interesting?
As a good Catholic girl, I should say yes, but that would be a lie. I’m consistently shocking myself with what I come up with!
What genre of books least appeals to you and why?
True crime. I just can’t deal with that kind of grimness. I read for escape.
Do you listen to music when you write or do you need quiet?
If you listen to music – what kind? It depends on the project I’m working on. Right now, writing in a steampunk setting, I’m listening to a lot of industrial music and gothic type bands, like Rasputina. Over the summer I was writing American Vampire for Mira, and that involved listening to so much Bruce Springsteen that I actually have dreams that we’re besties. What makes a man sexy?
Besides a huge cock? I would say his voice. I’m attracted to a person’s voice before I’m attracted to anything else about them.
Do you family and friends know you write erotic romance – if so, how have they reacted?
I come from a very strict Roman Catholic upbringing, so when I announced that I was writing erotica, I might as well have sat them all down and forced them to watch a homemade porno I’d done, or something. Now, though, they’re getting quite interested, waiting to see how much money is involved and how many books I’ll actually write for this market.
If you were stranded on a desert isle, what five things would you want to have with you?
As it just so happens, this is a recurring fantasy of mine. I would like to have my laptop, wifi access, my books, a vibrator, and a teleporter so I can leave when I want.
If you could travel back in time, would you? If so, what time period would you visit and why?
Does it have to be actual history, or can it be romance novel history? Because I would love to snag a sexy knight in the middle ages, but not the real middle ages, with lice and disease.
On to Ravenous.
Blurb: One man claims her by day, another by night. Together they lay claim to her heart.
Annabelle Whittington sails toward Jamaica, and marriage to a wealthy plantation owner, on winds of hope. Hope that she hasn’t saved her virginity only to be doomed to proper English wifehood, never to fully satisfy her sexual curiosity. Then the sails of the pirate ship Howling Hades appear on the horizon.
Captain Galerius’s demands are simple: in exchange for her blood to slake his eternal thirst, and her body to quell his voracious lust, he will guarantee safe passage. Except his motives are less than pure. In his hold is another prisoner, Ian Drummond, who must soon be replaced…with Annabelle.
But Ian has plans of his own, and they don’t include giving up his lover so easily. And, once he gets a taste of Annabelle’s sweet blend of innocence and boldness, he can’t imagine living without either one of them.
Annabelle, sensing the tortured soul beneath the monster, refuses to let Galerius intimidate her—and finds an unexpected ally in the infuriating, maddening Ian. As danger threatens the Hades, she is faced with a choice. Return to her life of duty, or embrace her spirit of adventure…and sail the high seas with the men who have captured her heart.
Want a steamy hot excerpt? Who am I kidding, of course, you do!
(although this does require a bit of set-up. Drummond and Annabelle are prisoners of the vampire pirate captain Galerius, who has put a spell upon them so that their presence will not be noticed by the crew):
Annabelle looked around them. The crew swarmed everywhere. As one sailor hurried past her with a bucket of hot tar, she had to sidestep him. “Right here?”
“Why not?” Drummond began unfastening the cuffs of his shirtsleeves, the presumptuous… Annabelle struggled to think of the worst word she could imagine. The presumptuous ass!
“They can’t see us,” he continued, pulling the loose ties at his collar free. “They can’t hear us. And you have to admit, the thought of it arouses you. Your breath has quickened, your throat is flushed. Those beautiful gray eyes are practically glazed over in anticipation.”
He mistook her flush for desire, when it was one of anger. “You think an awful lot of yourself. Why would I lie with you? Simply because you’re the only man available?”
He smirked. “Not because I’m the only man available. You’ll lie with me because you want me.”
“Your opinion of yourself is rather high.” Though her fingers trembled, they strayed to the ties at her sleeves. She loosened one, then the other, then reached for the ribbons that crisscrossed at her bosom. She pulled one tail of the bow at the top, slowly, enjoying the way Drummond’s hungry gaze followed her every movement
“If you won’t lie with me,” he asked, pulling his shirt over his head, “then who?”
She pulled her arms free of the bodice of her gown and let it slip to the deck at her feet. Exposed to the chill air, her nipples puckered and her skin turned to gooseflesh. Well, it was partly from the chill air. A rush of heat flooded her core, and her knees went weak at the thrill of being so exposed, before so many people. Even if only Drummond could see her, the effect was heady. She slid one hand over the tops of her breasts, then down the valley between them, over the soft plane of her stomach. Every inch her hand covered, Drummond covered with his gaze, and she teased him, running her fingers across the top of the tightly curled hair on her mound.
Drummond grinned. “Lovely. Come here.”
She shook her head and backed away slowly. From the corner of her eye, she glimpsed the men working at patching the canvas. The sail was stretched out on the deck, the sailors kneeling around it. The most encouraging, wicked thrill shot through her.
“What are you doing?” Drummond asked, following as she approached the edge of the sail.
She dropped to her knees and timidly placed one hand on the material. None of them seemed to notice, and she gave it a little tug, just to make certain they would not. She climbed onto it, holding her breath, certain something would happen to force them to see her. But the men did not. They kept working.
Drummond gave a laugh. “You’re right, you are rather adventurous, aren’t you?”
She turned on her back, propped on her elbows, but she said nothing. When Drummond fell to his knees and crawled forward, she stopped him with a foot against his chest. “I told you, I won’t lie with you.”
His face fell, and Annabelle almost laughed at his crestfallen expression, as though he were a little boy who’d been denied a puppy. Then that expression changed to another insufferable smirk. “You’re teasing me.”
“You’ve only just caught on?” She scooted back and laid flat, her heart pounding wildly in her chest. On either side of her, the sailors worked at their task, their hands moving just inches from her naked body. They could not see her, could not hear her, but if they touched her…
The fear of discovery only heightened her arousal, and her body ached as she smoothed her hands across her breasts, her belly, her thighs, but she did not touch where she so very much wanted to. If she had learned anything from Drummond, it was that delaying pleasure brought greater gratification.
She closed her eyes and imagined the men’s hands on her, faceless, nameless bodies brushing against her. She let her knees fall open, and Drummond made a strangled noise.
She paid him no mind, but slid her palm over the gentle rise of her stomach, inching lower to cup her mound. Her folds were already slick. She dipped her fingers into the wetness and brought them to her mouth, opening her eyes to watch Drummond as she tasted herself on her fingers.
“I take it back,” he said, wetting his lips. “You have plenty of imagination.”
She laughed and let her eyes fall closed again as she touched herself in earnest, pulling more slick heat from her core. Lost to the heady thrill, she bucked her hips against her hand and rolled her sensitive nub between two fingers. With a groan, Drummond tried again to move closer, and she stilled her hand.
“Will you show me?” she asked, panting, as he crawled over her.
“Show you what?” He gripped the base of his cock, hard and eager for her, and braced himself over her, the tip of him just brushing her mound.
“What it’s like to lie with two men.” It took all of her self-control not to reach for him, to slide him home.
His face was unreadable. A muscle twitched in his clenched jaw. Finally, he nodded.
When he did, Annabelle squirmed from beneath him and climbed to her feet.
Drummond stared up at her, still holding his cock, confusion creasing his brow. “What are you…wait…”
“Tonight,” she promised, and strode away, scooping up the discarded gown. Her body still burned for release, and she planned to have it, locked safely in the cabin where Drummond could not follow.
Want more? Of course you do! Go pick up your copy here!
So, this is a short post, because honestly? I feel like I’m coming down with a cold and I’m trying to finish a galley. And get ready for Authors After Dark. And get ready for the start of school. And do my day job. And after looking at this list, I’m considering adding running away from home. I hear MN is nice… But anyway, here’s the new cover!
There are few things I like better than listening to live music – well, good live music, anyway.
Musically, it’s been a fantastic summer. I went to Lilith Fair with my sister, Cait, and while there saw Suzanne Vega and Sarah McLaughlin (also saw Miranda Lambert and still wish I could get that hour of my life back…but I digress) as well as a few newer acts. Other than the heat (and Lambert – there’s really only so much I need to know about her love of her daddy, tattoos, Bacardi and Jesus), it was great.
A few weeks ago, my mom and I went to see Natalie MacMaster play. That woman was beyond amazing. Anyone who can play Celtic fiddle, while step dancing is astounding. Anyone who can do those two things while six months pregnant with her fourth child (and not miss a beat) is mind boggling.
Last night, Cait and I went to see Brandi Carlile. If you’re not familiar with Carlile’s work, I guess I’d classify her as folk-rock. The venue is great – I’ve seen several other shows there. It’s an outdoor amphitheater in a botanical garden and sculpture park. It’s the kind of place where you can have a picnic while enjoying the show. The people watching and the sing-a-long were great too. But hanging out with my sister best part – well, that and Brandi – who, incidentally, Cait is in love with. So…Brandi…if you’re out there…and available, have I got the girl for you. 🙂
So, did anyone else see any good shows this summer?
Yes, I am more appealing than peanut butter – but more on that in a minute.
Today, while trying to work on my WIP, I considered muzzling my youngest son and locking him in a closet.
Corwin: I know you’re trying to work, but do you think we’d survive the zombie apocalypse? How would we kill them? I mean, it’s not like we have tactical nukes just lying around. Do you think the Marines have special zombie killing training? Do you think cats would be an effective fighting force against zombies? What if cats were zombies? Would zombie cats purr? I bet it would be more of a meow-moan. Meo-oooan, meo-oooan, meo-oooan. (Sound effects complete with shambling around my work area.) I wonder if zombies would like the smell of salt and vinegar potato chips or if it would repel them like it does my brother.
Me: *blink blink blink* (typing exchange along with muzzling and closet threat to Brynn via IM) Tactical nukes are always a bad idea – even for zombies.
Brynn helpfully sent back a list of responses to Corwin’s questions.
1.) Don’t give them brains. Barring that, decapitation.
2.) Zombies, Al Qaeda, very similar. No special training needed.
3.) No to the cats. They do what they want and leave you in the lurch. (Actually, she originally typed lunch before correcting it – Freudian/Zombie slip?
4.) No, they growl.
5.) Yes, they like it – especially on your breath because it’s close to your brain.
Brynn: Betcha didn’t think I knew all this.
Me: I’m impressed. And deeply surprised.
Brynn: This is why I’ll survive the zombie apocalypse. I’ve been tested. I know. And sorry…you were sacrificed. They like you more than peanut butter.
Me: There’s a test? What test is this?
Brynn: One I took on Facebook about six months ago.
Me: Huh. I do like to think I’m more appealing than peanut butter…
Brynn: I haz teh zombie knowledge.
Corwin is still shambling around the room holding Willow (who’s looking mighty confused) and saying Meo-oooan, meo-oooan, meo-oooan, meo-oooan.
Yeah…this book is moving right along.
Over at the Evo blog, we’re discussing our creative outlets other than writing. Come over and visit…there are pictures. Not as good as milk and cookies, I know, but it’s the best I can do via the internet. 🙂