Musings of a Chocoholic Romance Author

A day in the life of a romance author, from the mundane to the crazy. From family life to writing life. And sometimes, my opinion, which often isn't noted for being very humble.

Thursday, November 12, 2009

Words

It's been a lesson in the power of words around my house lately. As a writer, words are a major tool, they go hand in hand with the actual idea, because without something to write about, the words are practically useless.

Here's a list of ways words can be used.

To express love
To show approval
To hurt
To soothe
To calm
To incite
To anger
To rally
To convince
To teach
To reconcile
To tear asunder
To praise
To pray
To compliment
To chastise
To entertain

Anyone have anything to add to the list? Go for it! Words are power.

Spotlight on YOU!


...Nell Dixon...


One of my favorite authors has a new release coming Tuesday, November 17th, from Freya's Bower. His Darling Nurse by Nell Dixon is available at the moment as a pre-order, but please, pay attention to the warning on the website...don't attempt to download before the release date, or you'll only download a placeholder, not the actual book.

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His Darling Nurse
Nell Dixon


Juliet Darling needs a fresh start. With the end to her disastrous marriage, she hopes that moving to the village of Chandler's Gate--where she landed a job as a practice nurse--will give her and her small son Charlie just such an opportunity. Her ex-husband, however, doesn't plan on allowing them to escape his clutches quite so easily.

Dr. Neil Forrest finds his quiet and orderly life disrupted both at work, with the arrival of Juliet and her new ideas about what a practice nurse should do, and at home, where the accident-prone Juliet and her son have moved into the house next door. Neil has developed deep-rooted insecurities about life and relationships since the premature death of his wife. The loss has left him clinging to his precious routines, in an attempt to protect himself from further pain.

It takes a very special little boy, an out of control barbecue and a terrible accident before Neil and Juliet can finally get together, and Neil can make Juliet his very own darling nurse.

Genre: Contemporary
Rating: Sweet
Book Length: Novel
Price: $5.49

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Find Nell on the Web

Her website

Excerpt of His Darling Nurse

Her blog

Freya's Bower
Pre-order your copy today!

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Monday, October 19, 2009

Spookage

The Bat Cave at eHarlequin is one of my favorite haunts, and every year we do a Secret Spook (seeing as we're bats), rather than a Secret Santa deal. We've been doing this for um, somewhere between 4-6 years now. It's great fun and the packages are great.

This year, I got spooked by a new bat named Mope. She sent me Banshee's spooky dark chocolate (HUGE chocolate bar---SNARF), and Banshee's dark chocolate chips. It all probably came on Friday or Saturday, because the chips are melted, thanks to the 95+ temps we had over the weekend. In October. Yes, in the northern hemisphere, where it's officially autumn. But I digress. Also, a recipe to use the chips in (the chips will now be turned into fudge, and I'll save the recipe), bookmarks--enough for me to pass out one to me kids and still have one for myself, and then... this handmade potholder with my cave name on it. As we say in the cave, I hates it muchly, and it's currently hanging in a place of tremendous dishonor on my desk, right where I can see it. (The back is black and silver stripes).

Monday, October 12, 2009

Armpit Hair

So I checked the stats for my blog. I dunno why I do this, really, but I do have a fascination to see who's tagging me and where they're from. No, I don't know WHO you are, I just know what country you're in, which is the fascination. Also, it shows me the referrer...how people find my blog.

Imagine my surprise to discover that someone found my blog by googling "armpit hair."

I kid you not.

Now I'm rackin' my braincell, trying to figure out when, why and what context I mentioned armpit hair. I mean, of all the scintillating topics I could blog about, I'm at a loss. There is really nothing funny about armpit hair.

Unless yours is so long you braid it.

Unless you want it to match the wicked green you dyed your hair for Halloween, and so you dyed your armpit hair with the leftover dye. (Ouch, hope that didn't sting).

Unless you want to know how many hair follicles you have in your armpits and count the little bits you shave off in the shower.

Unless you save all the shavings with the intention of making a montage honoring your favorite hair band of the 1980's.

Other than that, I can't imagine a reason to blog about armpit hair.

Saturday, October 03, 2009

Goin' on a Muse Hunt...

...Gonna catch a good 'un...
I'm not afraid...
What's that up ahead?
A plot hole.
Can't go over it...
Can't go under it...
Can't go around it...
Gotta go through it.

Goin' on a Muse Hunt
Gonna catch a good 'un...
I'm not afraid...
What's that up ahead?
A sagging middle.
Can't go over it...
Can't go under it...
Can't go around it...
Gotta go through it.

Goin' on a Muse Hunt
Gonna catch a good 'un...
I'm not afraid...
What's that up ahead?
A flat character.
Can't go over it...
Can't go under it...
Can't go around it...
Gotta go through it.

Goin' on a Muse Hunt
Gonna catch a good 'un...
I'm not afraid...
What's that up ahead?
Wooden dialogue.
Can't go over it...
Can't go under it...
Can't go around it...
Gotta go through it.

Goin' on a Muse Hunt
Gonna catch a good 'un...
I'm not afraid...
What's that up ahead?
A rejection letter.
Can't go over it...
Can't go under it...
Can't go around it...
Gotta go through it.

Goin' on a Muse Hunt
Gonna catch a good 'un...
I'm not afraid...
What's that up ahead?
A brick wall.
Can't go over it...
Can't go under it...
Can't go around it...
Gotta go through it.

Goin' on a Muse Hunt
Gonna catch a good 'un...
I'm not afraid...

Okay, enough with the campfire songs. Next thing you know, I'll be roasting a marshmallow over my butane candle lighter for s'mores.

So, got to thinking, and I blame a friend of mine for this (his initials stand for Josh Lockwood) that maybe, just maybe, my muse resents that I see her as a tu-tu wearing bear. I've known for a while she hates the name I've given her (Prima, as in ballerina)...so, I'm going on an image search to find the most accurate representation of how my muse views herself.

...Imagine the void filled with elevator muzak...


Huh.

She's telling me she's classical in appearance, and that she likes the Hawaiian name "Kaleoaloha", which means "The Voice of Love." She likes this name because I write romance, and is willing to answer to "Kale"---pronounced "KAY-lee". Fine by me. As long as she's happy and comes home from her vacation in the Hawaiian Islands soon, I'm good.


Kale says this a good representation of what she looks like, and that I should just think of that whatever it is in her lap as a laptop. Heh.


















I guess my muse didn't feel this was a very dignified or accurate depiction of her self-image. And she says that "Prima, the Dancing Bearlerina" is cute for a stuffed ballerina bear, but totally ridiculous for a Muse of her standing and breeding.

My apologies, Kaleoaloha. I'll never force you to look like this again.

Now then. Can we get back to the writing? Now that I've envisioned you correctly and given you a name you can live with? Please? Purty please with chocolate on top of the chocolate? Huh? Thank you.

Yours most humbly,

A writer who'd like to, yanno, WRITE something.

Friday, October 02, 2009

Excuse Me? Pardon My Bafflement...

Okay, I must confess a certain amount of...well, bafflement over a commercial for a well-known brand of moisturizer. The product in question is billed as an "eye wrinkle protocol."

PROTOCOL?

Does the bottle of moisturizer curtsy when it sees you coming?

Protocol. Sure is a very fancy word to describe eye cream.

Main Entry: pro·to·col
Pronunciation: \ˈprō-tə-ˌkȯl, -ˌkōl, -ˌkäl, -kəl\
Function: noun
Etymology: Middle French prothocole, from Medieval Latin protocollum, from Late Greek prōtokollon first sheet of a papyrus roll bearing date of manufacture, from Greek prōt- prot- + kollan to glue together, from kolla glue; perhaps akin to Middle Dutch helen to glue
Date: 1541


1 : an original draft, minute, or record of a document or transaction
2 a : a preliminary memorandum often formulated and signed by diplomatic negotiators as a basis for a final convention or treaty b : the records or minutes of a diplomatic conference or congress that show officially the agreements arrived at by the negotiators
3 a : a code prescribing strict adherence to correct etiquette and precedence (as in diplomatic exchange and in the military services) b : a set of conventions governing the treatment and especially the formatting of data in an electronic communications system c : convention 3a,b
4 : a detailed plan of a scientific or medical experiment, treatment, or procedure


Huh.

Okay.

Well, I have to admit, I've been using cheap, generic facial moisturizer for years. So far, my eye wrinkles don't seem to require a more impressive protocol. Honestly, I don't see my wrinkles as The Enemy That Must Be Eradicated By Any And All Means Possible.

Nope.

I earned every single wrinkle. Wrinkles lend character to a face---laugh lines tell the world you enjoy life and laugh often. The fine lines around my eyes deepen when I smile or laugh and I see nothing wrong with that.

The other thing that baffles me is that prescription stuff Brooke Shields is hawking for eyelashes. I have one suggestion for women who feel they have insufficient eyelashes: MASCARA.

The fixation on being wrinkle-free, fabulously eyelashed, and another phenomenon that baffles me, the preternaturally white teeth every celebrity seems to have grown, bugs me. I laugh at the wrinkle protocol commercial, change the channel when the eyelash prescription medicine comes on, reach for my sunglasses to protect my eyes agin the glare off all the white teeth.

I'm happy with my wrinkles. My inadequate eyelashes don't bother me (because I use mascara and pretty much don't obsess over my lashes---I have other things to worry about, like my children. I'm pretty sure my kids don't give 3 pips about my eyelashes and wrinkles)... And I'm worried that everyone bleaching the huzzah outta their teeth are going to bleach their teeth right out of existence. That'll sure look good in their wrinkle-free, long-lashed faces for sure.

Thursday, October 01, 2009

Reviewing a Review

Without even realizing it, I was looking for THE perfect book review. Waiting for the day when I'd come across that elusive Gem of a Book Review, and happily, I found Nirvana on Monday at Smart Bitches. This review has tickled me so much, I've been linking everyone I know to go read it. I mean, that's what friends do, right? Spread the joy?

The Perfect Review. Title being reviewed: The Playboy Sheikh's Virgin Stable Girl by Sharon Kendrick. It's a Harlequin Presents, which I daresay anyone familiar with this line could've guessed.

I happened to see this double-take worthy title in the recently reviewed column, and thinking that someone was pulling my bat wings, I clicked. Surely, I thought, this couldn't be an actual title of an actual book.

Turns out that not only is it an actual title, it's an actual book. Here's proof.

Reviewed by Smart Bitch Sarah, the book yields all manner of fodder. Hole. E. Cow. With quotes galore, it's difficult to decide what's more entertaining---the excerpts or the commentary accompanying the excerpts. I'm gonna go out on a limb here and claim it's the entire package, because clearly, without the book, there would be no reason for such comments as "NOW WAIT JUST A GODDAM MINUTE HERE MR SHIEKHY PANTS." and "And he is a highly sexed man. To quote a wise sage, “It is a romance novel rule that any man named Kaliq MUST be highly sexed.” and "Let’s move on, now that we’ve all been made into women by our sheikhs." (Oh, dear God, I spewed Pepsi from my nose when I read that line. I think I got it all off the monitor screen, tho and only the H and J keys on my keyboard are still sticking.) and "This book is high entertainment. It’s so ridiculous, you can’t put it down. It is its own drinking game."

Now then, the book itself only rated a D- grade, but this rollicking snarkfest of a review has me waxing back and forth as to whether or not I want to read this book. As a rule, I generally can't get past the ridiculous Presents titles enough to even pick the book up off the shelf to read the back cover, so for me to be tempted to even consider purchasing a Presents is an accomplishment. Still, I'm thinking that I won't get nearly as much entertainment from this book as I got from the review, so unless this book magically appears on my doorstep, chances are good I won't actually spend money on the playboy sheikh and his virgin stable girl. (If you had the visual of Mr. Laura's expression as he sees this title, you'd understand my point. Although, I do have book covers...Hmmm... and it is a great expression... Oh, hell. Decisions, decisions, decisions...)

I give the review 2 Wings Up. I recommend the review, you can decide for yourself if you want to read The Playboy Sheikh's Virgin Stable Girl by Sharon Kendrick.

That said, I have the sudden desire to write a Presents. This could be scary.

Wednesday, September 30, 2009

Efficiency

Wouldn't it be more efficient if the house stayed clean after you cleaned it?

How come, despite years and years of demonstration and training, the laundry and dishes don't do themselves?

I paid the bills last month. Why don't they STAY paid?

Why is it that within 6 hours of mopping the floor, someone will spill something nasty and sticky on the clean floor? Makes me think that nature abhors a vacuum and this maxim is somehow applied to clean kitchen floors.

Why aren't tubs and showers self-cleaning? I mean, we use soap in there, so why do they get dirty?

Clean is a magnet for mess. No matter what, I clean the house, and within 24 hours, you can't tell that things were once put away.

Children have a built-in chocolate meter. My boys know when I have chocolate on my desk and they all come by and demand I share. Sharing chocolate is for the birds. It's mine. All mine.

Wouldn't it be more efficient if your refrigerator could restock itself? Just need a little computer in the door and the fridge can monitor when you're low on milk, oj and lunchmeat, email the grocery store and have new supplies beamed in. Oh. Wait. I'd have to relocate to the USS Enterprise (D)... Hmmm... Might hafta rethink my whole landlubber stance.

Why do the clerks at the grocery story only ask you if you want help out to the car when you've brought your helpers along with, but not when you're there without your built-in helpers?

The vacuum cleaner should also by this time, know how to run itself.

On the days you feel like snatching yourself bald-headed, just remember this: if you do snatch yourself bald-headed, there's a possibility that a really bad toupee is in your future.

Happy Wednesday.