Just FYI! I’m participating in a Studio Art Tour this weekend with my mom, aunt, and daughter. We’ve spent months getting things ready to display and sell. Wish us luck! If you’d like to see what we’re doing, be sure to check out my Facebook page this weekend. We’ll be posting pics and giving updates. Should be fun! ~DD

* * * * *

What’s Your Pet Peeve?

One of my pet peeves when I read is character names popping up all the time, even when it’s perfectly clear who is talking or thinking.

Of course every character has to have a name, and I’ve nothing against them. Most of the time. When they’re used so often they whack me over the head while I’m reading an otherwise dynamite story is when I want to remind the author there are such little words as personal pronouns. And there are words of address other than people’s given names.

Whoever heard real conversations like this one?

“Mark, I’m gonna kill you.”
“Oh yeah? Go ahead and try, Sal.”

More likely it would sound more like this:

“Motherfucker, I’m gonna kill you,” Sal said.
“Oh yeah, asshole? Go ahead and try.”

Or this, as a hot sex scene’s coming to a close?

“Oh, Susie, I’m gonna come.”
“David, don’t stop!”

Try, “Oh, baby, I’m gonna come.”
“God yes.. Don’t stop!”

My point is that people don’t usually address each other by name. In fight scenes, they’re more likely to toss in the occasional epithet, and in sex scenes they’ll use pet names or endearments—or nothing at all.

Now I’m not totally prejudiced against using names—occasionally in one-on-one scenes, to remind the reader what the characters’ names are. It’s necessary to use them more often in scenes where there are more than two characters, or where the two characters in the scene are of the same sex. More often, when the character’s voice is strong enough, it isn’t necessary to identify him or her by name more than once or twice during a two-person scene.

Overusing character names when they aren’t necessary for identification purposes sounds unnatural in dialogue and reeks of “telling” instead of “showing” in narrative. It pulls me straight out of stories I’d otherwise be devouring and makes me want to toss the books they’re in—into the nearest wall or at the author, if only he or she were handy.

He, she, him, her, his, her—these are short, sweet stand-ins for names. Authors should use these personal pronouns often, whenever there’s not the least doubt as to who the POV character is thinking about. That’s pretty darn often in scenes where the hero and heroine are alone together. I recently read a sex scene—an otherwise very steamy, yummy sex scene—where my guess is that the two participants said or thought each other’s names at least several hundred times. Those names got me where I was ready to scream for mercy before the scene was done.

Unnecessary use of character names is one of my pet peeves. Tell me what jumps off the pages of books and knocks you out of the scene when you’re reading in a comment, and I’ll put your name in the hopper for a free download of my latest Caden Kink book, SHOTGUN RELATIONS, as soon as it’s released on September 21.

Ann Jacobs
https://annjacobs.net

Like me on Facebook:  https://www.facebook.com/AnnJacobsAuthor
Follow me on Twitter: https://www.twitter.com/authrannjacobs

Hello Everyone!

Thanks so much to Delilah Devlin for allowing me to invade her space today.

I would like to share a little bit about my new Ellora’s Cave release, Just for Tonight.

I know that most of us enjoy slipping into the fantasy worlds of our books, but every once in awhile I like to visit middle class American people in their own day to day lives to create real life like romance. This story does that.

Kelly Devers has a crush on her co-worker Thomas Brigs. For a year he’s been the object of her fantasies, but she hasn’t dared to make a move on him. But when Kelly finds out Thomas is leaving town, she throws caution into the wind and gives into the yearning she’s suppressed for far too long.

Passion ignites as their bodies come together and Kelly is determined to enjoy the steamy loving. Even if it can’t last forever.

By   reading any further, you are stating that you are at least 18 years of age.
If you are under the age of 18, it is necessary to exit this site.

An Excerpt From: JUST FOR TONIGHT
Copyright © VIRGINIA CAVANAUGH, 2012
All Rights Reserved, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.

Kelly turned her head and the skin of her cheek brushed against his. Heat spread across her flesh, radiating from the point of contact. “Th-that’s okay. I really don’t like the stuff anyway.”

His head moved and her gaze went to his mouth as he raised the bottle to his lips, taking a long drink as he sidestepped, coming around to face her. Her heart hammered as she struggled to find something to say. He’d caught her off guard standing so close to her. Never had he entered what she’d call her personal space.

“Nice party.” She wanted to cringe as the words left her mouth. Why couldn’t she have come up with something sexy to say?

His hand lowered as one side of his sensual mouth tipped up. “Yeah. I think it turned out nice.”

She shifted her weight from one foot to the other as she turned and looked outside at the other employees and their plus-ones conversing and dancing on the patio. Never had she been attacked by a case of nerves this bad.

“Looks like Tammy got lucky on the weather holding.”

Kelly smiled as she thought of her boss’ wife. “That she did.” August usually meant monsoon season in these parts, but the storms hadn’t begun as of yet. Although she had noticed a few clouds skating in as the sun had set on her way over to the party.

“I’m glad you got to come.”

She cast him a questioning glance before returning her attention to the other guests.

“I overheard you say something to Gina last week about having to babysit your nephew, Alex.”

Understanding washed through her. She’d actually made an offhanded comment to Gina, saying that she had a feeling she had to babysit this weekend, but really she was meaning more like she’d volunteer to babysit her oldest brother Kyle’s child, in hopes of skipping out on this party. But being from a small town didn’t work to her advantage. Tammy had graduated with Kyle and his wife Starla, so when she had mentioned it as an excuse, Tammy picked up the phone. It had been fun explaining to Kyle later why he had to let her off the babysitting hook he’d never put her on. Oh well, at least her brother got a laugh at her expense. “Yeah. I got lucky and Kyle didn’t need me after all.” Too bad she wasn’t sure if that plan falling through was a curse or blessing yet.

“Is there something bothering you, Kelly?”

She spun, focusing on Thomas. Boy was there. But it wasn’t as if she could spell it out for him. Fortifying smile in place, she responded, “Why would you think that?”

He reached out and ran his index finger along her jaw, slowly tracing a line down her neck and across her shoulder. “You seem tense.”

She inhaled a shaky breath as the tip of his finger ignited a fire beneath her skin. And she’d worried about trying to start a casual conversation with him. It seemed as if things were swiftly going past casual. Maybe she should have fed him alcohol sooner.

His hand dropped and he clenched it into a fist at his side. “Sorry.”

She swallowed and shook her head, as much as to naysay his apology as to clear her mind of the sensual fog that had descended. “No. It’s fine. You have nothing to be sorry about.” Another smile from him that made her nipples draw up tight as the low buzz of desire ran through her.

“Would you like to dance?”

BUY NOW
Ellora’s Cave
Amazon
Barnes and Noble

Best wishes, Virginia Cavanaugh

I Hate Blogging

First, allow me to thank and apologize to my gracious house Delilah for hosting my ramblings because I’m really, really bad at blogging. Like, seriously awful. Every time I sit down to blog about something, I either allow myself to get distracted or struggle to think of a topic. There are a lot of incredibly talented bloggers out there who are able to creatively spin any subject matter into pure internet gold. Not me. When I am actually able to come up with a post, I generally end up rambling about nothing and end with an awkwardly-placed “well, what do you think?”

Case in point, the potential subjects for this particular blog post were:

• My Cat Is Sitting On My Keyboard.
• I Just Reorganized My MP3s!
• Where Did That Stain On My Wall Come From?
• Minesweeper Marathons Are Incredibly Fulfilling.
• Masterchef Australia Is The Best Show Ever.
• I’m Going To Make Cookies To Help Me Decide On A Blog Subject. Oh, Crap, I’m Out of Flour. Well, Good Thing I Needed To Go Grocery Shopping Anyway. I’ll Just Think Up My Blog Post Later.
• The Internet Is Distracting (And Also For Porn).

I’ll sort of sit, frozen at my keyboard, struggling to find something to say until finally conceding defeat and tabbing over to Firefox to lose ungodly amounts of time on TVTropes.

It seems odd to me that this has become such an issue. I love writing. And generally I have an opinion about everything. The two should go hand in hand. It’s a formula for a successful blog (or nearly successful, since I think you actually need to be talented to have a successful blog, but don’t quote me on that). I think I put myself under too much pressure to be clever and/or insightful and end up somewhere in the confused middle where most people start banging their heads against their desks and beg for the pain to stop. I don’t have this problem with fiction (well, except for the Minesweeper thing, because marathoning back-to-back advanced games is actually pretty fulfilling). Take my new release, Half Blind. The first draft was written in less than a month, because once an idea grabs me I focus on it to the exclusion of all other things. But blog posts in general? Well… let’s just say there’s a reason I don’t have a ‘blog’ section on my website. People who enjoy watching train wrecks just have to get their jollies elsewhere.

There’s all sorts of fretful things besides subject to consider when writing a blog. How long should it be? Should I include a giveaway? Embedded links? Will anyone really appreciate it if I link it to a Youtube video of baby sloths? Google offers differing opinions.

This is where I’d usually try to come to a thoughtful conclusion, ask some rhetorical questions (see above) and request your opinion. I’m not going to do that this time (though your comments are certainly welcome) because I don’t think I’ve come to any stunning conclusions about blogging. Unless you’ve got a surefire way of coming up with stunningly witty subject matter. In which case, bottle it, ‘cause I’d buy it by the caseful.

(Oh, by the way, the answer to the sloth question is yes. Everyone appreciates baby sloths. Here you go: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q1mAGQAw3Oc)

Half Blind is available for purchase now!

About the Author:

Christine Price lives with her family Edmonton, AB. Her fascination with the written word began at a young age with a one-page story titled “My Mother is a Werewolf” and took off from there. In her spare time, she enjoys unfortunate puns, good books, borderline decent wine and making contingency plans for a zombie apocalypse. (Believe it or not, this used to be an unusual pastime!)

Christine loves hearing from her readers and can be reached at priceiswrite@christinepricewrites.com via email or on the Web at www.christinepricewrites.com.

You can also follow her on Twitter at
www.twitter.com/CPriceIsWrite.
Sometimes, she’s interesting!

My Love Affair with Cary Grant

When I was just out of college, I lived and worked in New York City. One rainy spring, my favorite revival film house had a Cary Grant festival showing every single movie of his four decade plus career. Of course, I went to nearly every film, whether I’d seen them before or not. And with a career that stretched from the 1932 to 1966, that’s a lot of movies (75 or so, to be exact).

Spending so many hours with Mr. Grant, I have to admit I fell in love.

Today my first book is published: Marrying Mari. Every Tuesday in October over on my blog I review romantic movies starring the fabulous Mr. Grant. I do this because one of those movies, the Hitchcock-directed thriller Notorious, is not only my favorite Grant film and favorite romantic movie but the inspiration for one of the love scenes in Marrying Mari.

I didn’t plan for that to happen. It was a happy coincidence I recognized well after the fact.

I also didn’t plan that Mr. Grant would also be the inspiration for my character of Ethan Stone, one of Mari’s heroes (my other hero, Gabriel Pryor, is more a combination of Hugh Jackman and David Beckham). Ethan is sophisticated, handsome, self-confident and cool – not unlike the mysterious agent T. R. Devlin (Grant’s character in Notorious is so mysterious we never learn what the initials stand for). And the biggest challenge for both men – Devlin and Ethan – is meeting the right woman.

Well, meeting and then keeping the right woman.

In Devlin’s case, the right woman is a thrill-seeking playgirl as well as the daughter of a convicted Nazi traitor in post-war America; Alicia agrees to flush out more Nazis, and Devlin is given the task of sobering her up, training her and getting her into the Nazi stronghold in Rio de Janeiro. In Ethan’s case, the right woman is someone who doesn’t know the truth about her past; as a result, Ethan has to get through the lies to the truth, provoke Mari into believing him and then convince her to give him – and Gabriel – a chance.

Both characters – Devlin and Ethan – screw it up, of course. But that’s the reality of heroes: they’re not perfect, even when they’re charming, gorgeous and wicked smart. They should know better, but they don’t – and then our heroes fix the screw-up, beg forgiveness, try harder and make us fall in love with them all over again… which is the fun part of writing them.

Recognizing Ethan’s potential for screwing up his romance with Mari, a woman worth winning and keeping,  really gave me the “aha!” feeling while I was writing Ethan, because of course it’s all about what goes on underneath when it comes to our favorite heroes, isn’t it? Because as gorgeous, as smooth and as strong as a hero is on the surface, we really fall in love when we see what is under the surface, that he’s just “a fat-headed guy full of pain” (as Devlin puts it) who none the less shows up to do what’s necessary.

That’s what I wanted for Ethan: a man who’s had it all his own way for a long, long time… and now he might lose it all because of his own mistakes. To meet a woman who challenges him to change, to grow and become a better man. That’s fun to write.

So thanks, Mr. Grant, for the inspiration.

Elyse Snow

Hello everyone, and thank you Delilah for lending me your blog. I’m so happy to be back!

Last time, we talked women. Today, I thought we’d talk men. OK, women all over again, as well. You see, I got into a heated debate I mean civilized discussion, with a guy, about the type of men romance authors write. You know, the type all women secretly or rather not-so-secretly covet. We have, after all, devoted an entire genre to the man of every woman’s dreams. A Man, with a capital M.

A Man who is strong yet vulnerable, emotional even. A Man who is confident but sensitive and understanding when need be. Dependable, loyal and intelligent with a great sense of humor. A Man who is kind and courageous, who is endlessly creative and attentive in bed, successful in all his endeavors but never afraid to admit, even if sometimes begrudgingly, that they were wrong, and who, after acknowledging the error of their ways, will bend over backwards to make their loved ones happy for as long as they both shall live.

Not only is that hopelessly unrealistic, he said, the guy I was debating I mean having a civilized discussion with, it puts real men under pressure and it generates performance anxiety and it’s just not fair, pitting men against something that doesn’t even exist. He went on to say the species most likely to become extinct next was the Average Joe and complained how no one wants Joe and no one wants to be Joe, everyone wants to be and bed The Man.

I let him talk while a light bulb slowly lit up in my head. If The Man is not true to life, it’s not true to fiction, either, not anymore. The description of The Man fits every heroine as well, and The Man lives inside every real woman. Women are proactive in the family, their communities and the workplace. And they are agents of change, movers and shakers, independent in their choices in books, as well.

I submit to you that The Man is the type of person not only would we love to have as a lover and/or a friend, it’s the type of person each and every one of us aspires to be. The heroic journey we love to write and read about, the dream of the hero saving the day against all odds and finding their happy ending is the search for the champion in all of us. Not just the story we’d love to experience for ourselves and the kind of man we’d want by our side but the type of woman, human being, we’d like to be.

I admire The Man, or The Woman, because I aspire to be just like him/her. I write about them because I suspect you admire them too, and it’s a sweet dream, one worth cherishing, isn’t it? And I don’t believe in the battle of the sexes, that women are from Venus and men from Mars. I think we’re just earthlings with the same hopes and dreams, fears and desires. We face the same challenges and we want the same things. To be happy. To make someone happy. To love and be loved. To do the right thing.

Different costume. Same core. Truce?

Dita Parker is the author of a death-defying love and lust triangle set in the Big Easy titled Alex Rising, and Perpetual Pleasure, a hot and heavy novel starring a commitment phobic immortal and a stunt performer bent on showing her everything she’s missing out on (Ellora’s Cave Publishing). Dita lives in Scandinavia with her striking Viking and their children. She believes that sex is a positive life force, that love can last a lifetime, and that in 2014 Brazil will once again win the World Cup. To see how it all plays out, visit Dita’s Den.

With several days of intermittent Internet (love the alliteration!), I can safely say this is the biggest downside to living in the country—for me. I feel like I’m held hostage by the weather. I’m on satellite, and anytime cloud cover gets thick, the signals being passed between the satellite and my dish get interrupted. I can’t Facebook or Tweet, can’t check my email, can’t check to see how Tarzan & Janine is doing on Amazon…

But I do have plenty on my desk to take care of while I wait for a window in the clouds to open up so I can scramble and get a blog posted. I have books to write, pages to critique, submissions to read. Plenty, plenty…

Have you seen how well Tarzan & Janine is doing?

Thanks so much to everyone who took the time to post a review. And thanks for clicking on those “Likes” and “Tags”. Sis and I are truly appreciative. And since you seem to like the book so well, it’s a sure bet we’ll be working on getting the next book out very soon. It’s written, but needs some revision. Shouldn’t take us long.

And thanks to everyone who voted and posted comments regarding the cover for Shattered Souls. My editor and I have been back and forth about it. I think we have something we love—all because you swayed me from my stubborn course!

Here’s today’s question. Have fun with it!

If you could have a free meal at any restaurant in the world, regardless of price,
which restaurant would you choose? What would you order?

One of the perks of being a romance writer is the opportunity to daydream about handsome, sexy men. I have the perfect excuse to sit at my desk, close my eyes, and envision candidates to star in a new story and fill the role of my heroine’s soulmate. Short or tall, light or dark, I know they’ll have muscles in all the right places and be a man I would fall for in a big way – if I wasn’t already happily married to my own Prince Charming.

But when I was writing my latest book, Deadly Memories, I didn’t have to stretch my imagination far to discover the identity of Trish’s dream man. Her college sweetheart was always the man destined to complete her life.

Her former lover, Greg Erickson is no ordinary hero. I write romantic suspense, so most of the men I write about fight for justice and morally or physically struggle with villains. But Greg fights a different kind of struggle. He is a modern hero, fighting cybercrime using his sharp mind and exceptional computer skills, not his fists.

The last time I wrote about Greg, he appeared in Beyond Paradise (Samhain Publishing, 2010) as a teenager smitten with Trish. Between the time of that story and the beginning of Deadly Memories, he went to college, made millions building and selling a computer security company, broke up with Trish, and married another woman. His marriage was typical of the poor choices we all make when we’re young. We know he should have married Trish, but until he was able to star in his own story, he couldn’t see the light.

I loved both Greg and Trish when I wrote about them before and wanted them to have a second shot at happiness. Trish believes her one chance for true love has passed her by and is resigned to a life spent alone. She’s been guarding her heart and focusing on her career. But when she meets Greg again, he’s a mature man, gorgeous and even more of a temptation than in college. The old spark re-ignites, and nature takes its course. If one of them doesn’t get killed as the story progresses, love may have a new chance to flourish.

I enjoyed writing Deadly Memories and bringing Greg and Trish back together, because I’m a hopeless romantic. I firmly believe there is someone in this world for everyone, and when two people are meant to be together, neither time nor past mistakes should keep them apart. He was her perfect mate. And putting them together gave me an opportunity to create a happy ending.

Writing romance has a lot pf perks. The warm feeling I get knowing I’ve told a story about love triumphing despite all odds and two people finding each other despite monumental conflicts, is worth all the hours of hard work that go into the writing of a book.

And now that my characters are happy, I can go back to that other perk. Daydreaming about hunky men I might want to meet in my next story.

Thanks to Delilah for inviting me to be her guest.

Kathleen Mix is the author of six novels of romance and romantic suspense. To read more about her books, or buy a copy of Deadly Memories, visit her website at https://www.kathleenmix.com.

 Short Excerpt:

A millimeter at a time, his fingers moved to her nape, lightly toyed with her hair.

The interior of the car became totally devoid of oxygen.

His hand cupped her cheek, his thumb slowly caressed her jaw, and his eyes took a long, lazy trip over her body. “You’ve matured into a beautiful woman. That dress, and the body in it, drew a lot of male attention tonight.”

Fire licked through her bloodstream. Goose flesh tingled on her arms.

She knew she should bolt for the house, but her feet were cemented to the floor mat. She held her breath. Waited.

His gaze locked with hers. Smoldering. sexy. He was remembering making love in the past. She could see it in the way his pupils glazed, darkened, and dilated.

Her mind flew in a similar direction. That little voice inside her whispered. I still want you.

As if she’d said the words aloud, he smiled devilishly, then leaned over and ever so slowly claimed her mouth.

The rush of sensations brought tears to her eyes. His taste, his warmth, the electric thrill of his lips touching hers. His firm mouth pressing, his tongue probing, her body melting. She clung to him as if their last kiss had been yesterday, as if he was still hers to savor forever.

She wanted to weep for the pleasure, weep for the memories of loss.

He broke the kiss, drew back a bare millimeter. His breath was hot on her skin. He whispered in a voice like dark honey, “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”