I'm so so so excited. Whoo hooo! Settler's Mine 5: The Man is available.

Blurb: Colton returns to Settler’s Mine searching for his mate who he’d abandoned years before. He’d been on his way earlier, but once he and Larkin mated, they couldn’t keep their hands to themselves and it delayed his trip.

Michipi has made a new life for herself at Settler’s Mine and doesn’t want to trust Colton again, no matter how sincere he seems. Especially with his new mate receiving all the perks of the heartstone glow that she never got.

While Michipi enjoys being the subject of being two men’s desires and what they have to offer, however good they both are she can’t get past Colton’s past betrayal and denies the future of their mating. When an old enemy resurfaces to make an attempt on Colton's life, Michipi is forced to realize that she needs both men in her life. But has the knowledge come too late, and at too high a cost?

To read an excerpt!

(My copy function isn't working at Blogger to share another excerpt *sigh*. Not sure why. Had a heck of a time getting the blurb to post.)


May the muse have The Man
Mechele

NEW RELEASE TODAY!

ISBN: 978-1-60737-490-9
Series: Adrien English Mysteries; Previous Book: Death of a Pirate King
Genre: LGBT Romantic Suspense
Length: Novel Plus
Cover Artist: Croco Designs
Price: $7.99

BLURB:
As if recovering from heart surgery beneath the gaze of his over-protective family wasn’t exasperating enough, someone keeps trying to break into Adrien English’s bookstore. What is this determined midnight intruder searching for?

When a half-century old skeleton tumbles out of the wall in the midst of the renovation of Cloak and Dagger Bookstore renovation, Adrien turns to hot and handsome ex-lover Jake Riordan -- now out-of-the closet and working as a private detective.

Jake is only too happy to have reason to stay in close contact with Adrien, but there are more surprises in Adrien’s past than either one of them expects -- and one of them may prove hazardous to Jake’s own heart.

EXCERPT:
We reached the bookstore. I thanked Lauren again, lifted a hand in farewell, and let myself into the big, empty building.

It was warm and very still inside. The heady scent of old books floated with the dust motes in the fading light. Old and used books have a particular scent -- very different from new books. That evening it was a mix of old leather, worn cloth, crumbling paper, and wood polish. It smelled like home. I couldn’t imagine willingly leaving Cloak and Dagger ever. Maybe they could stick me under the floorboards when I was done.

I walked over to the plastic wall dividing the bookstore from the other half of the building. There was no sign that the cops had been there during the day. No sign anyone had. Perhaps that was good news.

I went upstairs and unlocked my flat. It was too warm and stuffy upstairs, a bit too redolent of cat. I opened the windows to catch whatever evening breeze there was.
What had been the rush to get here again? Everything was exactly as I’d left it. As it would always be.

I sat down on the sofa, and Tomkins leaped onto the cushion beside me, rubbing his face against my arm.

“Miss me?”

Apparently so. Well, there was no accounting for taste; I’d be the first to admit that.

I dealt with the litter box, fed the cat, decided I’d opt for a snack later, considered having a drink, reconsidered, and returned to the sofa, where I stared at the ceiling for a time.

What the hell was my problem?

If I’d wanted company, why hadn’t I stayed at Lisa’s?

I listened to the distant street sounds as this part of town began to roll up the sidewalks for the evening. I listened to the building settling in for the long evening, stretching out wooden joints, cracking its knuckles.

“Oh, what the hell,” I said.

Tomkins briefly abandoned his pursuit of an ailing fly to throw me a curious look as I rose and went to the phone.

“He’s probably not even home,” I told him.

Tomkins offered no opinion. He sat down to watch, as though my dialing a phone was one of the most fascinating things he’d ever witnessed in his brief life.

The phone rang on the other end.

Once.

Twice.

I closed my eyes, trying to decide if I was going to leave a message.

“Riordan.”

I opened my eyes. Funny how the sound of his voice could still make my heart speed up. You’d have thought I’d be over it by now. You’d have thought wrong.

“Hi.”

“Hey.” One syllable, but his voice warmed perceptibly. “How are you doing?”

“Okay.” I wondered how long it would be before that statement was true.

“Yeah?”

I didn’t think there was any telltale note in my voice, yet his single questioning word held instant and complete discernment. Sometimes I thought Jake, ironically, knew me better than about anyone on the planet.

“Not really,” I admitted. “Did you hear about yesterday?”

“The skeleton in the wall? I heard.”

You could take the boy out of the police force, but you couldn’t take the police force out of the boy.

“We had another break-in too. That’s why I’m calling.”

His voice didn’t cool exactly, though it lost warmth. “Yes?”

“How’s the PI biz?”

He said colorlessly, “I got my first case yesterday. A woman wants me to follow her ex.”

“He’s already her ex?”

“Yeah.”

No wonder his voice sounded flat. “Are you going to take it?”

“Yes.” And clearly it was not up for discussion.

“Do you think you’d have time for another case?”

He sounded almost wary as he asked, “What case? Who’s the client?”

“Me,” I said. “I want to hire you.”

Recently, an interviewer asked me if I had any rituals before I started writing. I can't really remember offhand what my answer was; mostly it had to do with finding a quiet spot away from the normal distractions of our household. Maybe a little meditation to get me focused, but that was pretty much it. I can sit down and start writing cold, pretty much anytime or anywhere.

Well, that was a lie. Not an intentional one, but still, events of this night and morning have brought home to me just what a obsessive/compulsive person I am about writing. You see, I believe that writing is a craft that is powered by discipline. Yes, it's a creative art, but unfortunately, I don't run off inspiration 24/7. I'm moody and a bit lazy, and there are times when I'd much rather be outside playing than inside facing my computer. So I believe in discipline. But what I believe about myself isn't always true.

In November, I participated in NaNoWriMo, the big writing marathon that runs through the entire month. I did well, I believe I ended a bit over 52 thousand words. I completed 2 novellas and got a healthy start on a novel. Once I cleaned up one my novellas and submitted it last week, that left me facing some decisions on what to do next.

After a few days I picked my project, the sequel to Belle Starr. Fortunately, I did some early work on the book many months ago, so I'm not starting from scratch. I've got my story plotted, my characters developed and really, it should be a breeze.

Well, it isn't being easy.

I sit down, open the document and scan the work I've done. Then I take a break. That can be time on Facebook or Twitter. Maybe I'll catch up on email or write to my daughter. I'll do some "research." Usually that has to do with another project completely. I'll open another file and work on something unrelated, or go read a book. Then I return to the manuscript. This process continues for days. In the middle of the night, I get up and make muffins or go in the bathroom and search for grey hairs. Maybe take a bath and give myself a facial.

Anything...anything to avoid the manuscript that's waiting.

I finally figured out that there's not really a problem, this is simply a method of preparing my mind to turn itself over to the new book. Once I've finally submitted to the task at hand, I'll sit down and work steadily. Those hours and days that I've dithered haven't really been a waste; on some subconsious level I've been organizing my thoughts and diving into the characters. I'll go searching for music on You Tube or sorting through photos on stock photo sites. Sometimes I'll grab onto a line of poetry or a comment that someone makes in a movie. This is all fodder, setting the mood for the time to come.

Thankfully, these rituals don't always last for days on end, this is generally when I'm letting go of one story and family of characters and embracing the next project. As I sit here at 3:00am, I think that I'm nearly ready to let go of the last book and move on to the next. Of course, I'm writing a blog about my ritual of avoidance, so maybe I'm not as ready as I thought. But maybe tomorrow I will be.

Visit Belinda at her website: http://www.belindamcbride.com

Next Tuesday will see the release of the fifth and final Adrien English novel. This decade-old series is winding up at last -- with what I hope will be the strongest (certainly the longest) book so far.

So I thought it might be timely (seeing that it’s Christmas and I really don’t have it in me to find another blog -- I still have a LOT of Christmas shopping to finish up) to do a quick review of the books -- all available through Loose Id.

The Adrien English Mysteries -- combines the first two books in the series Fatal Shadows and A Dangerous Thing (very cost effective!).

Relationships can be murder. Bookseller and mystery author Adrien English is looking for love in all the wrong places -- and, according to hot and handsome LAPD detective Jake Riordan, it's liable to get him killed.

Fatal ShadowsA serial killer is stalking gay men, and a tawny-eyed LAPD detective wants bookseller Adrien English in handcuffs -- for all the wrong reasons!

A Dangerous Thing
When his romance goes south, Adrien heads north to the California Motherlode country. Can murder -- and Adrien's favorite LAPD detective -- be far behind?




The Hell You Say
Adrien English isn't really a detective, he's a bookseller and mystery writer who has a knack for attracting real life mischief and mayhem -- much to the displeasure of his sexy, sometimes-boyfriend, closeted homicide detective Jake Riordan.

When bookstore assistant Angus falls afoul of a Satanic cult, Adrien falls afoul of Jake -- but despite the fact that his amateur sleuthing is playing hell with his love life, Adrien can't help but delving into this case of kooks, cults, devil worship, and human sacrifice.







Death of a Pirate King
Gay bookseller and reluctant amateur sleuth Adrien English's writing career is suddenly taking off. His first novel, Murder Will Out, has been optioned by notorious Hollywood actor Paul Kane.

But when murder makes an appearance at a dinner party, who should be called in but Adrien's former lover, handsome closeted detective Jake Riordan, now a Lieutenant with LAPD. And that may just drive Adrien's current boyfriend, sexy UCLA professor Guy Snowden, to commit a murder of his own!





The Dark TideAs if recovering from heart surgery beneath the gaze of his over-protective family wasn’t exasperating enough, someone keeps trying to break into Adrien English’s bookstore. What is this determined midnight intruder searching for?

When a half-century old skeleton tumbles out of the wall in the midst of the renovation of Cloak and Dagger Bookstore renovation, Adrien turns to hot and handsome ex-lover Jake Riordan -- now out-of-the closet and working as a private detective.

Jake is only too happy to have reason to stay in close contact with Adrien, but there are more surprises in Adrien’s past than either one of them expects -- and one of them may prove hazardous to Jake’s own heart.

Working from Calls: Six Degrees of Separation

Brenna Lyons

It’s funny how the author’s mind works. I guess if it worked like everyone else’s there wouldn’t be such a small percentage of people who are writers. Still...

The call comes out. At first glance, I really want to write something for it, but the usually-vociferous muse shrugs and tells me, “I got nothing.” I’d say it’s a first for her, but it happens often when calls for anthologies or collections come out, unless I already have something done or in process that would work for it. The logical side of my brain (ah...that left side) opines that I need to forget the call and move on to other projects.

If that was the end of it, I wouldn’t be the person I am. So, what happens next?

That pesky right brain--you know, the creative and feeling half of the picture--really wants to get in on that call. Like a small child, it’s poking the left side and whining, “But I want to write for this call. I want to. I want to. Find me something to write about.” I feel like offering right brain cheese to go with that whine...and in fact, probably nibble on some.

Back to the poor, beleaguered left brain. My left brain has never learned to be a proper parent and tell the child (right brain) that whining does not get the right brain what it wants, so the left brain is sneaking around, looking for the six degrees of separation to match the call to something interesting enough to kick the muse into gear. It’s unconscious, because if the conscious mind had an inkling of it, it would step in and smack the left brain around...and rightfully so.

The left brain, as you might know, is a pattern matcher. Mine is rather overdeveloped, as is the connection between right and left brain, which means the infantile right gets to bug the left unmercifully. “I’m bored, Mommy. I want something to do. No, I don’t want to do that. I want to write for that call I told you about.”

Back to the left brain, who is busy dedicating some small portion to satisfying right brain to shut the bugger up.

And the whole process goes something like the following...

1. I see a call for, say...holiday song stories for LooseId.

2. After running through every holiday song I know, Christian and not, the muse is still saying, “I got nothing.” And in the case of “Sailing Home for Christmas” by Doug Stone, she’s saying, “Still too raw. Try me back for that catharsis in a few more years.”

3. The back and forth of the right nagging left continues, until the left brain starts looking at holiday movies and happens upon Love Actually, one of my favorite holiday movies. Hence begins the six degrees of separation.

4. Admittedly, the “All I Want For Christmas Is You” song that Joanna Anderson (Olivia Olson) sings is my favorite, so I focus there. Sam (Thomas Sangster) desperately wants Joanna to know he’s alive, and his step-father, the new widower Daniel (Liam Neeson), helps him achieve that. In the end, both Sam and Daniel end up finding love.

5. Fresh from the heart wrenching stories of Liam Neeson losing his beloved wife Natasha Richardson, the character of Sam stuck in my mind...sort of. He was tragic but he did move on.

6. The further encroachment of Love Actually into the thought process came with the tragic love triangle of Peter (Chiwetel Ejiofor), Mark (Andrew Lincoln), and Juliet (Keira Knightley).

7. Presenting all of this to the right brain, the following happens... What if a Juliet-like woman has lost the man she loved and wanted to marry? What if she never knew the Mark-like brother of her husband-to-be loved her too? What if they remained friends, despite their feelings for each other? And what if something brought them together? Love happens, right?

8. Left brain says, “Now, go play and let me do some work over here.”

9. And right brain scurries away and creates a story aptly titled ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS IS YOU for LooseId. In fact, it just released today.

All I Want For Christmas Is You- Two years after losing her fiancé Zach in a car accident, Robin is moving on. She's set her priorities, and one of them is following through with a life plan she and Zach made together...having a baby. It would be best if said child shared some of Zach's genes.

Enter David, Zach's older brother. He's Robin's best friend, her confidant, the one person who won't think she's crazy to do this...she hopes. Since there's no chance the ladies' man will fall for her, she hopes sex with him will stop the dreams where David takes Zach's place.

It's the invitation he's been waiting for, three years of watching Robin with his little brother, then watching her grieve Zach. If only she wanted David for himself and not a convenient sperm donor to conceive his brother's child. Then again, in such close quarters, maybe he'll be able to convince her to something more permanent...if his parents don't catch wind of the whole thing first.

HEA-yes, VIOLENCE-mild, LANGUAGE-graphic, SEX-erotic...anal sex/play

Cover art by April Martinez!

Happy reading!

Brenna

For the duration of this month I'm running a big ole giveaway on my blog. The grand prize is a Danielle gift set (perfume) and a ton of print books and goodies. Four other lucky individuals will win gift bagsstuffed with goodies.

The best thing is, all you have to do to enter is leave a comment. Simple as that.

For more information, please visit my blog.

http://www.amandayoung.org/2009/12/01/giving-thanks-contest/

I’m really picky about the names I choose for the characters in my stories. If I don’t get the right names in my head from the start, my writing falters. I can’t use the names of anyone I know just in case they think I’m writing about them. Not a problem in many genres – there are a few people I wouldn’t mind murdering – on paper of course - but in erotic romance I’m not so sure my friends would want to be the woman writhing on my pages or the woman sandwiched between two guys or the guy with a big... well maybe they would. But if I picked the name of a pal,I’d have them in my head when I was writing and that won’t work.

What do readers think of the names we pick for our heroes and heroines? Does it put you off the story if the names don’t give the right vibe? Not liking a character’s name wouldn’t stop me reading a book – well unless it was Smedley Ponsonby-Farte perhaps. Apologies to any Smedleys reading! But the time I spend finding the right ones for my characters - you'd think I was studying brain surgery.

My heroines are Kate (more than once) Chloe, Addie, Holly, Susie, Polly, Lucy, Daisy, Erin, Jo, Flick and Imo - to name but a few. I obviously like the 'ee’ sound at the end of the name. In fact both my kids have names that end this way.
My heroes - Charlie (arggh - slipping into it with the guys), Ethan, Nathan, Christian (all ending the same), Jay, Jax, Jack, Jake (I obviously like the J sound), Beck, Will, Ed, Alek and so on.

I can see a pattern. The men's names are mostly short and hard sounding, while the women's have two syllables and are softer. Regardless of whether they are human, werewolf, faery, vampire or demon, I always seem to go for something fairly traditional.

I think part of my concern in getting the right name is my problem with some fantasy books. If I can’t remember a made-up name from one page to the next and if I can’t pronounce it in my head as I read, I struggle. For me the name has to resonate from the first time I read it. Even with the writer’s description, I still want to draw my own image of the character.

So - what do you think - do you care what the character is called? Does it matter more to me than it does to you?


www.barbaraelsborg.com
www.barbaraelsborg.blogspot.com

Today the United States celebrates Thanksgiving. It's a day where we are supposed to give thanks for all that we have, be with family and friends, and usually eat.

Love the turkey day LOL. I enjoy seeing the family most of all. We don't get together enough.

I saw the kindergartners the other day at school who had dressed up for the Thanksgiving feast between the Indians and the Pilgrims.

Yesterday I listened to a podcast from two historians on Pocahontas and another on the first Thanksgiving celebrated at Plymouth. Needless to say there are a LOT of myths about both of them. They didn't call themselves Pilgrims for one thing.

There are myths about the traditional foods of Thanksgiving, too. Turkey doesn't really make you sleepy. Overeating does.

But one thing that isn't a myth is being thankful. I've been blessed to be able to do what I do. To have friends and family who support me.

Yes, definitely a day among many to be thankful.

Mechele Armstrong aka Lany of Melany Logen
http://www.mechelearmstrong.com
http://www.melanylogen.com

Tuesday saw the release of Old Poison, the second book in the Dangerous Ground series. It's the one about the two DSS agents, partners and best friends, who suddenly realize there may just be more there to explore. And explore they do. At length and in detail. I jokingly call this my "popcorn" series because it's all action-adventure and sexy fun, but maybe I shouldn't because it gives the impression that these books are...tripe. And I don't think they are. Oh, they're not Dostoevsky -- I'm well aware -- but I'm as careful writing them as anything else. (Which, for the record, is painstakingly careful.) I may not always get it right, but it's not for lack of trying.

The problem, I suspect, is that these books are very easy for me to write -- and I enjoy writing them -- and after all I am The Josh, famed wide and far for Doin' eet Write, yeah? So how does the pure pulp pleasure jibe with my standing as Serious Author? Assuming you can wrap your gray cells around the notion of genre fiction being the stuff of serious writing.

It's a rhetorical question mostly because I love doing what I do or I'd do something else. I've done something else -- and made a heck of a lot more money at it -- so this is definitely about love of the work. The craft. And my craft is -- sometimes at least -- making popcorn balls. The best freaking popcorn balls out there, if I have anything to say about it.



Anyway, I was reading Old Poison's review at Jessewave's. I love Wave's reviews, by the way, because she is unabashed in what she likes and doesn't like. She loves books, she loves reading, and she isn't pretentious about it. She's not unkind, she's frank. Which is great if she enjoys what she read, and less delightful if she doesn't. But you're still getting the real Wave. Anyway, in the comment section Wave mentioned something to the effect that she loves my work but sometimes feels guilty (I'm paraphrasing like mad here) because she has yet to give me a bad review. Basically she feels guilty for enjoying herself too much.

Just as I feel guilty for enjoying myself when I write these books.

What is it about us humans that makes us prone to guilt for enjoying the things we love? We refer to so many things -- chocolate, television, genre fiction, bubble baths and taking time for ourselves -- as guilty pleasures. Why are we guilty about our pleasure?

I'm asking, I don't have an answer -- I just think it's an odd thing about our species. We have trouble being happy. Have you noticed that?

It's not like there is so much pleasure in all our lives that we can't stand one minute more -- or that there's so much laughter and love in the world that these things are trite and meaningless. If anything, given the state of the world, I think escapism is more important to people than ever before (barring a couple of World Wars).

Like I said, I don't have the answer. I'm curious as to what you think.

I'm caught between manuscripts.

I just turned my latest story and it was the last one I had a contract for. In the last year, I haven't really submitted much new. I've mainly been catching up on a list of commitments that had gotten a little lengthy. Well, now those commitments are fulfilled. On one hand, I feel great. I got stuff accomplished and I'm rather pleased with the results. On the other hand...

Gah!

It's not that I don't have ideas. I do. I've got Scrivener* open with four different new projects, plus at least two others that I can think of saved to my hard drive. Although I've "finished" two of my ongoing series (Dark Elves and Heaven Sent), I've still got lots of balls up in the air for my Leashed series and I've yet to begin my Indigo Knights series. I've even got brand new ideas that have little or nothing to do with the above that are waiting to get written. Ideas isn't my issue.

Follow through. That's the issue.

It's a weird time between manuscripts. I feel adrift. There are so many possibilities. And, because I'm contract-less, there's nothing I have to get right on immediately. Kind of scary. There are so many possibilities. Where do I go next?

Stay tuned. I won't keep idle long.

*For those with Mac's who don't have Scrivener, I HIGHLY suggest you check it out. Best writing tool I've ever had, hands down.

http://www.jetmykles.com

I'm pleased to say the sequel to I Spy Something Bloody just squeaked in under the wire for Halloween!

I Spy Something Wicked is a Halloween "fling." What that means is, if you had questions about whether Mark and Stephen really would manage to carve out a life together, well this one's for you. MORE angst.



It's All Hallow's Eve and Mark Hardwicke's past has come back to haunt him. The Old Man needs Mark to go on one last mission to the wild, lonely hills of Afghanistan—a mission Mark knows he can't survive. Even if he does make it back, Stephen has made it very clear Mark is out of second chances. Should Mark place his lover and his own happiness before duty?

Especially when deep down Mark knows he doesn’t deserve a happy ending.


EXCERPT:

I parked in the tree-lined circular drive of the white Victorian mansion. The
lights were on downstairs, the curtains wide open. It was like looking into a
doll house or a stage set. Downstairs I could see Buck curled up on the sofa in
the den. The bookshelves where my books now crowded Stephen's. My paintings
symmetrically arranged around Stephen's. Upstairs, Stephen walked from the
bathroom into the bedroom. He wore a pair of pale green pajama bottoms. He was
toweling his hair.

I sighed. Despite my best efforts, I couldn't get Stephen to take the concept of
security seriously. Granted, he was better than he had been; he remembered to
lock the doors now, at least. But that was just to relieve my mind. When I'd
tried to explain why this was so important, bewilderingly, he'd apologized and
said, "I know you need to feel secure. I promise to be more careful." As though
it were about my safety. About my feelings.

I ejected the magazine from the Glock and dropped it back into the glove
compartment. I bent, re-taped the pistol beneath the seat, got out of the Range
Rover, locked it, and went quickly up the stone steps to the long, covered
porch. There was a pyramid of resin jack-o-lanterns at the base of one of the
posts, electric eyes and smiles glowing brightly. Black rubber bats on string
hung from the porch rafters, stirring in the breeze.

As I locked the front door behind me, Buck came to greet me, tail wagging while
he growled in that way of Chesapeake Bay retrievers. He'd been shot back in May
when a team of assassins hired by a senior Taliban commander had come calling
for me, but he was doing fine now. A little stiff in the mornings, but—as
Stephen had gently teased—who wasn't?

Upstairs, the stereo was playing. I could hear the music drifting down the
staircase: simple, intensely emotional, and somehow fragile. Barber's Adagio for
Strings. An appropriate soundtrack for the return of old ghosts.


Trailed by Buck, I went around checking windows and closing curtains. I was
relieved to see that while Stephen hadn't bothered with the curtains, he had at
least locked everything.

In the kitchen, I poured myself a glass of milk and leaned against the sink
while staring out at the black diamond glitter of the lake behind the house. I
hadn't been able to spare time for dinner, but I wasn't hungry. It had been a
long day. I was taking courses at the University of Shenandoah, their Career
Switcher Program, which was designed for people like me, frustrated teachers who
hadn't completed the training curriculum but had "considerable life experiences,
career achievements, and academic backgrounds that are relevant."

Apparently I'd have been better off reporting to the target range every day and
practicing my Pashto. In the mountains of Afghanistan they have a saying: A wolf
cannot outrun its shadow.

I tried again to think how I would tell Stephen, how I would explain what I was
considering, and I decided that it would be better to work it out in my mind
first. I was too angry and confused just now—and Stephen had zero tolerance for
the Old Man even at the best of times.
I washed the glass, rinsed it, and set in the sink. I turned out the lights and
went upstairs.

Stephen was in bed, reading the New England Journal of Medicine.

He glanced up, and smiled, and my heart did that little flip it always did. He
was so…beautiful. At fifty he made everyone else look callow and crude. Tall,
lean, broad shoulders and long legs. His hair was prematurely silver, but it
just emphasized how young and handsome he really was. He looked like the
quintessential doctor on the telly, a man you wouldn't think twice about
trusting with your life or your heart.

I went to him and he kissed me, but as our lips parted, his green eyes were
searching. He said, "You're late."

"Yes. Sorry."

He was waiting for an explanation. That was one of the difficult things about
being with someone. Accountability. I just wasn't ready to discuss Malik's
proposition with him, and I didn't want to lie, so I said nothing.

When I didn't offer an explanation, Stephen, patiently explaining the customs to
a foreigner, said, "You should have phoned. I was worried."

"I wasn't thinking of that."

His mouth quirked wryly. "Obviously not." He was still studying me, looking for
clues. "Have you eaten?"

I shook my head. "Not hungry, really." I added quickly, as his brows drew
together, "Not for food."

I loved the way the concern in his face gave way to that wicked grin. He tossed
aside the journal and, reaching for me, murmured, "Oh yeah?"

I mimicked that soft Southern accent, "Oh yeah."

Every day the media focuses on the most sensational stories of the day. Unfortunately, most of these are tales of the worst traits of humanity, violence, avarice, depravity. I’ve decided to take every Wednesday, it is after all hump day, to highlight the good news.

Today, Wednesday October 28, one headline reads, “Many Babies Born This Century Will Live to be 100.” There is a caveat to this caption is many babies born in rich countries will live to be a hundred. Since the 20th century, people living in developed countries are living three decades longer than they have in past centuries. Wow!

Japan has one of the longest life expectancies in the world and a new study finds that most women now aged 80 will live to be 90. According to experts, we are less than 10 years away from the day when there will be more people on the planet who are over 65 than there are under the age of 5.

Yet another study finds that the brains of older people who’ve never used the internet are actively stimulated and changed when they begin to use the web on a daily basis. Simple internet searches, according to the UCLA study, form a simple brain exercise that may be used to enhance cognition in older people.

That’s good news all around as far as I’m concerned, we’re getting older, and we’re getting smarter.

Hooray for humanity!

Just as an FYI, I recently received a wonderful review for White Wolf. Here it is:


FANTASTIC! I enjoyed Gray and Sorcha’s story immensely. The pages absolutely drip with suspense, mystery, action, and best of all great sex. There are plenty of charismatic secondary characters as well. In fact, I’m sorry Jianne Carlo didn’t write White Wolf as the final book in a series about the entire White clan. Presented as it was, the Black Wolf mystery and unsolved serial murders could have easily been incorporated into an entire series, not to mention that I would have loved to have read Joe and Susie’s, Chad and Lizzie’s, and Mike and Melanie’s stories from the very beginning. I will definitely be watching for more great work from this talented author. White Wolf is a must read! Merrylee.

Have a great hump day,

Jianne Carlo

Surge is releasing soon! More good news.

I also received my author copies of the two person print anthology for I HEART THAT CITY with Body Shots and Sierra Cartwright's Body Double. Hee. It's not up on Amazon yet but expecting it any day now.

I'm attending the Author After Dark Paranormal Weekend this weekend! Doing a book signing, a breakfast, a vampire panel. Should be LOADS of fun.

I think I do feel a little better. What good news do you have to share? We could all use the pick me up.

Mechele Armstrong aka Lany of Melany Logen

Where Sensuality and Wonder collide

http://www.mechelearmstrong.com

http://www.collector-series.com

The future's never been so sexy

http://www.melanylogen.com

Released October 13 from Loose Id

Available now from Loose Id

This story was one of those organic ones. I won’t say it was super-easy, because it wasn’t, but it was born out of a scene that popped into my head one day. The scene, in fact, that is depicted below.

It’s one of my “gay for you” stories, I’ll confess. What can I say? I like the dynamic.

BLURB:

Justin falls for Kevin the instant they pass each other on a sidewalk. Only, Kevin’s not gay. The higher ups at Kevin’s company are gay, however, and Kevin’s accidental meeting with Justin gives him an idea how to get around his controlling female supervisor. If he can gain access to the top men at an exclusive gay club, he might be able to finally share his ideas.

Justin instantly agrees to be his date, despite the obvious heartbreak that’s headed his way for going out with a straight man. At the club, Kevin gets a chance to meet the company owner, Victor Chen, and the man seems interested… both in his ideas and his date.

Kevin can’t deny his attraction to Justin, but he’s not gay. Right? He should step aside and let Justin have a chance to date Victor, who’s gorgeous, rich, and shares Justin’s interest in fashion. Despite his internal struggles, he really wants to explore their growing bond. Justin is certainly game, but a part of him knows they can’t have a future together…can they?

*************************

©2009 Jet Mykles, all rights reserved

“…and then I…” Justin stopped dead in his tracks in the middle of the sidewalk, forcing two chatting women to split up to go around him. Ignoring their mild glares as they passed, he stared blindly over the plastic lid of his coffee cup, wondering if he'd just seen what he thought he'd seen.

Ahead, Frank kept walking a few steps before realizing he was alone. He spun, the spikes of his highlighted hair refusing to move in the mild breeze that kept the sunny street somewhat cool. “Hey?”

Justin heard him but couldn't be bothered to acknowledge the words. He snapped around, eagerly searching for… Oh yes! The hind view of the vision of loveliness that had just passed by him. Slightly rumpled charcoal slacks loosely framed a fine little derriere, and an equally rumpled ice gray button-down dress shirt draped slim shoulders. Waved hair the color of good French Roast almost brushed said shoulders.

“Justin, what are you…?”

Barely hearing his friend, Justin raced back down the sidewalk, nearly spilling his coffee in his rush to catch up to a wet dream come to life. He almost ran over a guy on Rollerblades and just avoided getting wrapped up in a microdog's leash, but he finally made it to the vision's side. He reached out to wrap a hand around an arm. Nice, he thought, feeling the biceps. Slim but firm.

Said vision halted and twisted his graceful neck over and up to face Justin.

Oh. My. God! Innocently seductive brown eyes kind of focused on Justin from beneath sinfully full black lashes. Confused eyes blinked up at him, positively enchanting. Elegant and sleek, just like the rest of him. Latino somewhere in his lineage, judging by facial features and gold skin tone. There was a childlike purity in that face even though he had to be in his midtwenties, at least. Justin wanted to devour the generous lips that parted in surprise.

“I've just fallen in love with you,” Justin declared, cradling his coffee cup to his chest as he kept hold on the vision's arm. “What is your name, and please tell me you're gay?”

“Justin!” Frank caught up with him, grabbing the wrist of the hand that had a grip on the vision's arm. Frank tugged, but Justin wouldn't let go. “Justin, please, you're annoying the nice man.”

Justin blinked at the dumbstruck object of his attention as the breeze puffed a lock of shiny dark hair across the man's brow. “Nice man, please tell me your name so I know who to dream about tonight.”

“Justin!” Frank scolded, prying at his fingers.

Reluctantly, since the vision didn't seem to be responding in kind, Justin let Frank remove his hand. But he kept eye contact.

“Please excuse him,” Frank said, yanking Justin away. “He's not right in the head.”

“How can I be in the face of such beauty?” Justin protested, stumbling backward as Frank tugged.

Said beauty blinked slowly, his gorgeous pink lips still parted in shock.

“I work down the street at Juster's. It's a men's boutique.” Justin wanted to cry. “Come find me, Prince Charming. Please!”

The vision blinked again, closed his mouth, and turned away.

Justin sobbed dramatically, watching a fine ass in shapeless slacks retreat. “There goes the love of my life.”

Frank snorted, forcibly turning Justin toward the intersection so he wouldn't have to drag him anymore. “You're a complete nutcase.”

Justin sighed and sipped his coffee. “I know. But you gotta go with your instincts, right?”

“Your instincts are going to get you killed one of these days.”

Justin waved his hand and avoided a group of chatting businessmen. “I've gotten beat up over it before. That's nothing new.” He hummed dreamily as they stopped to wait for the light. “But he was pretty, wasn't he?”

“He was that,” Frank admitted, pressing the Walk button.

Justin glanced back, but the vision was long gone. “Not gay, though, huh?”

“Not in the least.”

“Damn.”

* * * * *

Kevin returned to his cubicle, still bemused by what had just happened. He'd left to blow off a little steam with an afternoon walk. He certainly hadn't expected to be hit on. By a guy, no less!

Raoul got up from his chair in the next cubicle just as Kevin sat down. Immediately Kevin was reminded of the reason he'd left. Some of his amusement died.

“She's gone,” Raoul told him, keeping his voice low. The three people in the neighboring cubicles were all on their side and could be trusted, but beyond that was sketchy.

“Gee.” Kevin checked his watch. “Three o'clock. Must be nice.”

Stacie pushed her chair close. “She's going to”—she made quote signs in the air with her fingers—“'work from home.'“

All three of them snorted at that.

Kevin shook his head. “The woman never listens.” Staring blankly at his monitor, he balled his fists. “I know we could get that second installation if she'd just present the idea to either Greg or Victor.”

“Fat chance. She's way too scared of how it went last time.”

Kevin waved a hand in the air. “We've fixed those problems. We've gone way beyond that. Besides, if we just talked to the customer…”

“Please,” Stacie scoffed, “remember what happened the last time she talked to a customer?”

Snarling soundlessly, Kevin slumped back his chair.

Raoul leaned on the low cubicle wall and shrugged. “What can we do?”

Kevin grimaced. “Unless we can get to Greg—”

“Which we can't.”

“—or Victor—”

“Yeah, right.”

“—nothing.”

Stacie patted his shoulder before wheeling back to her keyboard.

Raoul gave him a sharp look and glanced at the drawers of Kevin's desk. He raised his brows, then shrugged, before disappearing around the corner into his own little space.

Kevin knew what the look was for.

He stared at the second drawer of his metallic desk. Inside was the possible answer to their problems, but only if he had the balls to go through with it. No one else does. It was an invitation that a friend had given him to an exclusive party at a popular local club. Kevin was not into the clubbing scene, but it was a sure bet that at least two of the three men Kevin needed to talk to would be there. The club was high-class and rumored to be the place. For homosexuals. Which both Greg Hanson and Victor Chen were.

Kevin Fuller, however, was not.

Kevin blinked, the coincidence crashing into him. He wanted to go to a gay club. He'd just been hit on by an obviously gay guy. Kismet?

**********************

Click here to visit my website’s main page for Just For You

I happened to be reading an older post by one of my favorite reviewers/bloggers Jenre over at Well Read Reviews. She was commenting on how she feels when a writer doesn't respond to one of her reviews. She's a reviewer who sends the writer a little note when she does a review (a lot of reviewers don't do this, by the way).

It was fascinating reading this from the other side. I started to reply to her in the comment section (something bloggers like, by the way) and I said this:

Well, I wish I'd seen this post sooner because if I don't get pointed to a blog and a post and a review, I don't know about them until I do a periodic sweep for my weblord. But this is a fascinating post.

I come from a writing tradition where you don't acknowledge reviews. At most you send a curt little thanks! because it's all supposed to be very professional and hands off.

But here in the blogosphere that just seems weird and unfriendly. This is a different world. For one thing, reviews are much less...shall we say, standardized.

And then it occurred to me that this was actually a good topic for me to blog on, seeing that I do have a blog due today that I, er, forgot about.

So, where was I?

Oh. Here in Bloglandia, it's a bit looser and more casual. It's friendlier, but it's also the Gateway to Psychoville. Terrific smart, funny, insightful people have blogs and talk about books and writing -- and so do people who have been off their meds for way too long. Sometimes you can't always tell the difference. At first.

Initially I ignored all reviews because that's the way we did it back when I was a whippersnapper. But...these bloggers were so...friendly. So personable -- and personal -- that I started leaving little comments.

Hey, thanks for the review! Glad you enjoyed the book!


Sometimes bloggers responded, sometimes they didn't. Granted, I was often finding these reviews months, sometimes years later. I don't look for reviews of my work except in giant sweeps of a particular title and then I'm going through so fast, and reading so many, the occasional negatives are instantly dismissed in an Olive You're-Lucky-You're-an-Idiot! moment.


(Negative reviews are are always best ignored, anyway. What's the point of engaging in dialog with someone who doesn't like your work? You're not going to reason her or him out of it.)

It's a dilemma for a writer. If a reviewer contacts me and says, I just reviewed your INSERT LATEST TITLE HERE, I will usually send a quick thank you (without even looking at the thing) and file the email for when I do my quarterly sweep for website material. If I know the blogger -- if it's Jesse Wave or Jenre or Sarah or Book Utopia, I'll try to remember to leave a comment on the blog. I don't comment on the "professional" review sites. It just doesn't feel right. Mostly, unless invited, I don't comment on the personal book blogs either. These mini-reviews or thinking alouds aren't aimed at me, and I feel like it's going to make bloggers, reviewers uncomfortable if I suddenly intrude.

Granted, sometimes I'm in a chatty mood, and I'll pop in and say hi and thanks, but it's fairly rare.

I always respond to personal email. End of story. I try to respond to every comment on my blogs too, but sometimes it gets out of hand. Still, a review is a little different. Or is it? Jenre's thoughts on this were interesting to me.

Although it's certainly true that reviews are for readers, not writers, I do think -- given the sometimes heated tone of reviews -- reviewers hope to help influence writers, books, writing, publishing. They want to see more of the kind of things they like to read, and less of the kind of thing, they don't. That's reasonable.

So one of the questions for today is, suppose a reviewer contacts you with a link to a review that seems to totally miss the point? Or a negative review? I've occasionally had that happen. Someone will send a link, I'll read the review and think...hmmmm.

I've generally already thanked them by then, so it's kind of moot for me, but I often wonder why the reviewer would bring a lukewarm or negative review to a writer's attention. What is the reviewer's expectation with a negative review? Does the reviewer hope to open a dialog? Is the reviewer simply doing the professional courtesy of...here, you should know this. Is it an aggressive move? Let's face it, being able to read and run a blog is not proof of sanity. I'm case in point.

What do you think? Should writers respond to reviews? Should they comment on blogs that mention their books? Should reviewers alert writers that they've written reviews? What do they hope for from that interacton? Should bloggers alert writers to their negative reviews? And, if so, what do they hope for in the way of a writer response?

Ralph Lauren fired Fillipa Hamiliton, a size 4 model, for being too fat.

Can you believe that? What kind of message does this transmit to young girls?

Did you see the Ralph Lauren photoshopped image of Fillipa that the company used in a mall add in Japan?

It’s grotesque. Fililipa’s hips, legs, and waist are the size of a skeletal eight year old, while her head and face are the size of a normal adult female. The company’s statement on the event made me decide to boycott the label. Since when did a size two become the norm for fashion ads? How many of you out there are a size two? I’d bet any odds that the majority of women are in the eight to twelve size categories.

According to the oft-quoted statistics, almost sixty percent of North Americans fall into the overweight class. I don’t know a single female who isn’t worried about her weight, especially those in the over forty age group.

Health concerns aside, I’d much prefer to carry that extra five pounds and still have the glass of wine with dinner, eat cheesy garlic bread once in a while, and enjoy a rare steak on occasion. It’s called quality of life.

Are only thin women considered sexy?

What do you think?

Chime in,


Jianne Carlo

Author Name: Brenna Lyons

Year started writing for LI: 2008

Titles: Close Enough to Human, All I Want For Christmas Is You

Web Page: http://www.brennalyons.com

What genre do you write in, and why? :

There’s very little I don’t write. Most of my work is dark, milieu-heavy spec fic (science fiction, fantasy, paranormal, horror), with or without romance, erotic romance, and/or erotica mixed in. I also occasionally write contemporary, historical, and mystery cross-genre. And I write articles, essays, and poetry. The one thing I admittedly stink at is play writing. I do know my limits.

How much time do you spend writing every week? :

It depends on the week. Some weeks work out to a few hours a day...maybe a total of 10-20 hours in a week. Some weeks work out to me writing 60 or 70 hours per week, plus marketing, e-mail, and so forth.

What was the first story you ever wrote about? (not nec. first published story) :

No surprise. It was about astronauts meeting aliens on Venus. I even did chalk art illustrations for it, though my next younger brother is the artist in the family...not me.

How do you judge the effectiveness of the sensual scenes in your stories? :

They either get me hot...or they don’t. Since I empathize so closely with my characters, I can be turned on even by things that don’t appeal to me personally.

Ever been told, Um...sweetie, that's not how it works? :

No, but I’ve had to tell an editor that. Long story short, I had an editor who’d never had children. She believed you weren’t allowed to have sex after the first trimester. Picture my eyebrows arched appropriately.

What one word best describes your toy collection? :

Adventurous, since I can’t say Mostly harmless. That’s two words.

Where did your most unusual plot idea come from? :

I have unusual ideas? Considering how popular paranormal/fantasy is, how can I qualify unusual? Since I’ve been called one “of the most deviant erotic minds in publishing today...not for the weak" (Fallen Angels), I don’t think I’m qualified to decide what constitutes unusual.

What inspires you to write? :

Everything. I’m a people watcher, like most authors are. I can be inspired by a scene, a quote, a look... I can be inspired by calls for submissions, songs, videos, by games of what-if, by my dreams...even by someone else’s dreams. One of my books grew from a small part of one of my husband’s dreams.

Plotter or a Panster? :

Complete and utter pantser. I don’t plot. I don’t plan. I don’t write linear. I don’t write one thing at a time. I don’t know what’s coming next, let alone last, unless I’ve already written the end. Then again, I might add an epilogue, so who says that’s the end?

Does your cat insist on sitting on your keyboard like mine does? :

You mean someone’s doesn’t? She loves my keyboard, my printer...and most of all, she loves chasing the cursor or the type across the screen.

Most challenging place you've ever written a spicy scene? :

On my lunch break while teaching preschool, in the teacher’s lounge. They didn’t mind that I wrote spicy stories. In fact, they enjoyed it. Now, try writing with a dozen teachers trying to read over your shoulder. Grin...

The Personal stuff:

Any outrageous liaisons in your past?

If you ask my biological mother, my husband was my outrageous liaison. But, aside from the guys themselves being nutters and/or adventurous, not really.

Where's the most unusual place you ever managed to have sex? :

I have two that come to mind. One was under a bridge on Lake Arthur, with speed boats rushing past. The other was in the rooftop room at my high school. Both are very long stories.

What was the most romantic meal you've eaten? :

When my husband and I had been married for a month, I cooked him one of his favorite dinners...beef stew and drop biscuits. He brought me roses. I still have the card from them. It says: “One month with you has been Heaven.” We ate at the coffee table, since we lived in an efficiency with a breakfast bar and no table. And we ate by candlelight.

What kind of books do you read for fun? :

The same types I write...plus some. Take everything I write...then add in true crime and a few other choices.

If you were to make a bumper sticker for your car that had to relate to erotic romance, what would it say? :

The same thing the shirt I made for my husband says: “Men are animals, and women wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Soulmates? Do you believe? :

Absolutely! I believe I have two of them. One is my husband. He’s obviously a love interest soulmate. The other is a soul sister, my best friend Lisa. I’ll tell you the same thing I tell everyone about soulmates. Having one does NOT mean an easy ride. It means the long haul is worth the fight.

Cake or Pie? :

Depends on my mood.

Coke or Pepsi? :

If it’s in a can, Pepsi. If it’s in plastic or from a soda fountain, either.

Tea or Coffee? :

Hate them both. The only caffeine I take in is in the occasional soda and chocolate.

Over the last few months I’ve had the privilege of judging a few writing contests, some for published authors and others for unpublished authors. I had the preconceived notion that the quality and talent of published authors would be more consistent and even than those who aren’t published.

Hah! Another myth buried under tons of concrete. The best work I read, and I judged over twenty-one different entries, came from an unpublished author. Quirky, hilarious, romantic tension popping every page, the characters, particularly the heroine, so easy to relate to, complex, flawed, admirable, I can’t wait to read the final version.

I read entries with obvious spelling and grammatical errors. One where people start talking to a character in an empty bar(and no, they weren’t ghosts nor was he schizoid). Another where from paragraph to paragraph, I couldn’t figure if we were in the past, present or future, as the character’s age ranged from seven to nineteen to forty-five in less than twenty lines. One I had to force myself to finish. One where I read those wonderful words, “The end,” and I still didn’t understand what had happened.

If you have a dream of being author, wouldn’t you want to be the best?
If you dream of winning a writing contest, wouldn’t you want to make your entry perfect, polished?

All of the entries had to be in either .rtf or word format. So, I’m assuming most were written in Word, WordPerfect, or some other word processing program. I don’t know of any version of any word processing program that doesn’t have a spell or grammatical checker.

Why would anyone entering a writing contest not run spell check? And I’m not talking about one or two entries, no more like five or six. Of course, if spell check wasn’t run, the grammatical checker wasn’t either.

I volunteer to judge because contests helped so much in my career. I try to be as detailed, but as kind as possible in my comments. I try to balance my, hopefully, constructive criticisms with praise where due.

I can only begin to imagine what editors receive on a daily basis. Even if a work is not wonderful, but the author has taken the time to polish her words, learn grammar, I can enjoy reading the entry. It really ticks me off though when people are too lazy to even re-read their own words.

You wouldn’t expect to get a job with a resume filled with spelling and grammar errors, would you?

I just don’t get it.

I do love it when I discover a new writer whose voice and work I love. And I uncovered seven beauties this year. Authors I am adding to my To Be Read list (not that it isn’t growing like Medusa’s head minute by minute).

I hope no one interprets this as ranting. I just think when someone submits an entry to a contest they should do their homework. And I also believe when a publishing house allows its standards to slip, we all lose as authors.

I bless the fact I found Loose-Id. And Georgia (Georgia Woods, my editor) - you’re a gem!

Have a great rest of the week,

Jiannne

Author Name: Viki Lyn
Year started writing for LI: 2009
Titles: The Tiger Within
Web Page: www.vikilyn.com


What genre do you write in, and why? : M/M Romance. This is a new genre for me. My past books have been historical romances but with edgier characters that live on the outside of society. My WWII Trilogy featured a gay triangle and was a strong secondary subplot, so writing M/M wasn't a difficult transition.


How much time do you spend writing every week? : I'm really a sporadic writer! I'm disciplined when I have deadlines, but other than that, I write at all times of the day. I don't have a set schedule so maybe if I did, I'd be able to write more. I average 3 hours a day, including weekends.

What was the first story you ever wrote about? (not nec. first published story) :

A short fan fiction piece in 2000. From there, I wrote numerous fan fics before attempting original short stories. My first novel was a fantasy that I never had published. Sometimes I think about going back and rewriting the darn thing. Some of the characters are worth resurrecting, but once my stories are completed, I like to move on to something new.

How do you judge the effectiveness of the sensual scenes in your stories? :

If I get turned on by reading them, then I've succeeded!

Do you ever try out the sexual positions you write to make sure of accuracy?:

Well since they are M/M sex scenes, no, but I do have a gay friend who reads for accuracy. And the more I write hot sex scenes between two men, the more comfortable I become in knowing what can be done. In the beginning, I went to the local adult bookstore and bought two gay sex manuals for references. They were a big help!

Ever been told, Um...sweetie, that's not how it works? :

No, but then, my sex scenes are not that 'way out' (not yet, anyway!) - and my characters don't use a lot of sex toys - LOL - that will be next...

What one word best describes your toy collection? :

Oh boy, boring! The usual shapes and sizes!

Favourite candy while writing?: Ice cream (to cool down!)

Where did your most unusual plot idea come from? :

From my imagination, and my interest in the occult, mythology and ancient spiritual philosophies.

What inspires you to write? :

My muse is fickle. I used to create abstract mixed media works of art before writing, so maybe some day I'll go back to my art. Writing fits my personality, because it's mutable. No two stories are alike and the possibilities are endless.


What music inspires your writing? :

I listen to my iPod which has a very eclectic mix from The Pet Shop Boys to Loreena McKennitt.


Plotter or a Panster? :

When I begin a story I'm a panster but once I get into it I mutate into a plotter.


Most challenging place you've ever written a spicy scene? :

Oh, I am boring...because none of my sex scenes seemed too challenging. I guess for my next book I'll have to change that. Maybe sex under water?

When you get stuck, how do you find your way back to the writing? :

Sometimes I need to take a break from writing. When I do, I try not to beat myself up with self-guilt. To get back into a writing mode, I just sit in front of my laptop and type, even if it's junk.


The Personal stuff:

Any outrageous liaisons in your past?

None I want to put down on paper!

Where's the most unusual place you ever managed to have sex? :

Golf course at night.

What was the most romantic meal you've eaten? :

A picnic in the middle of a rushing river as we lounged on granite boulders warmed by the sun.

What kind of books do you read for fun? :

Mysteries! I devour them.

Is your real life anything like your stories? What about your fantasies? :

No...and no!

Soulmates? Do you believe? :

Sure, I believe in soul mates and they can be either gender. I don't believe a soul mate has to be between a man and woman exclusively. I have two very wonderful girlfriends that are my soul mates.

Cake or Pie? Coke or Pepsi? Tea or Coffee? :

Pie, Pepsi, and most definitely coffee!

I've started several blogs but none of them seemed to say what I wanted to say. We'll see how this one does.

Have you ever read a book with too much sex?

*blinks* I used to think that wasn't possible. Really I did.

Until...I read a book a few years ago that was pretty much one sex scene after another. No character development, no plot to speak of, just a string of sexual exploits.

I couldn't get into it. At all. I'm sure some people did, but it just wasn't for me.

Then a popular author that I read got into sexual situations in her books. And I found myself again saying, "I think this has too much sex!" Shocked me. But the sex came off cold. Almost clinical. There was little emotion behind it and I didn't feel like it did anything for the characters. It just was filler in a way.

I've definitely come to realize, books can have too much sex. I need an emotional connection between the main characters. I like sexual tension.

A tv show disappointed me the other night with a bedroom scene. It really had little build up in the episode. Now this is a comedy, on regular network TV. But dang it, they had an earlier episode that was uber sexy with lots of sexual tension. This one, the current bedroom scene, seemed dropped in. I didn't feel it and trust me, with these characters, I wanted to feel that connection. Of course I think the point will be them recovering from this round of sex. But it still was a disappointment.

So what works for you in a sex scene?

Mechele Armstrong aka Lany of Melany Logen
Where Sensuality and Wonder collide
http://www.mechelearmstrong.com
http://www.collector-series.com
The future's never been so sexy
http://www.melanylogen.com

To learn more about this series, visit http://www.guardiansrealm.info

I realized belatedly this morning that I had a blog due today. It's been a incredibly productive -- but exhausting -- month. So far I've written the Halloween Fling sequel to I Spy Something Bloody. It's called I Spy Something Wicked. About Fifteen thousand words of wicked.

It's the one about the British spy who wants to retire to Old Virginny with his skeptical lover the handsome, fiftyish doctor. But Mark's (that would be the spy) old enemies won't let him. (This time around it's his friends who won't let him be.)





One of the questions we writers get asked a lot is, is it easier to write series or stand alones? I think it's about the same. In some ways revisiting old characters is easy -- you've done the ground-work. But you've also got more to remember, especially if you put a lot of careful detail in about those characters. Like I gave Mark a love of waffles and classical music. But he starts the story out listening to rock. The boyfriend's influence, I expect.

It helps if you keep a character "bible" but I don't tend to do that with characters I only plan on using once. And that was initially how I approached all these novellas. They were supposed to be pleasantly complicated one-offs. The only series I planned on doing was the Adrien English series.

But these characters turned out to be more popular than I anticipated and readers wanted more of them, and I found myself curious about how some of the dynamics I had set up might ultimately turn out.

So that was the beginning of the month, and then last week I did a Christmas novella for Samhain, which I really, really like -- all new characters on that one. It's pretty much my first straight (as in no real mystery) romance. It's very...er... quirky.

And then this week I'm working on Old Poison, which is the sequel to Dangerous Ground. That's one of my all time most favorite stories (both with me and readers). It's my popcorn movie novella. Two special agents for the DSS are trying to salvage their relationship after one of them is shot following a declaration of his feelings for the other.



Er, I should hasten to add he wasn't shot by his partner. He was shot because his mind wasn't on the job -- or so his guilt-stricken partner thinks. Anyway, they go camping in the High Sierras to try and mend their friendship and partnership. But, as you probably know, NOTHING good can over come of camping.

Just kidding. Although I do much prefer hotels.

Anyway, they survived camping. This time it's trickier to write because there's a lot more about their jobs -- they're Special Agents for the DSS (which is a fascinating organization, if you've read anything about it) -- and because the first time around they were too busy running for their lives to put in a lot of details. Although I did manage to throw in a couple of complicating things like...Will has a dog.

Why do I do things like that?

Now do I kill that damn dog or do I drag it along through this story?

So that's this week. Next week I have a Halloween ghost story due for MLR Press. New characters for that one -- it's a historical about spiritualists and serials killers. It's going to be complicated, without a doubt. Because that, apparently, is what I do.

I don't even want to tell you how many sets of edits I'm working on right now. Let's just say it is a hellishly busy month. But, assuming I finish all this on time, it's a relatively sane ride back to the barn.

So that's it for me. That's my month.

What are you working on? And what do you prefer -- as reader or a writer -- series or stand alones?