Bunnies Hop and So Do Blogs

Several authors in the blogosphere are posting about their writing process, so I decided to jump on the bandwagon. I know you’re supposed to tag four other people on your post, but I kind of forgot I was supposed to do that, so I’ll probably have people tagged in the next day or so with some linkage. I don’t follow directions well…

Anyway, thanks to Meredith Daniels for tagging me. Here are my answers to the questions provided. I hope they don’t lead any budding authors down the primrose path of corruption.

*1) What are you working on?

I’m currently working on a few things, but the main thing is a sequel to Necromancing Nim, from Samhain Publishing. I left our heroes and heroine in a bit of a bind at the end of that book, so I’m trying to get them back out of it. I’m also poking around at a paranormal romantic suspense and a follow-up to Blood on the Ice, my new book coming out in June from Samhain.

*2) How does your work differ from others in the genre?

I like to try to subvert tropes I see in other writing. For example, Necromancing Nim has a love triangle with none of that angsting about which man is the “right” one. Nim just goes for both of them. I also like to throw weird stuff together and see what falls out. Blood on the Ice features a professional hockey league where the players are all vampires. The story kicks off with a human NHL player being turned right before the Stanley Cup Finals, and takes him through his journey to get his life back. Mostly I’m just a little off-kilter, and so are most of my books.

*3) Why do you write what you write?

I write what entertains me. Or I write what my best friend tells me to write. One of those. Sometimes both. Mostly, I’m not going to waste my time laboring over a story that I don’t enjoy. This business is too stressful, difficult, and bizarre to make it even harder by forcing yourself to write what’s “in,” or what’s supposedly the next big thing. Unless the “next big thing” really turns your crank—then go for it.

*4) How does your writing process work?

It doesn’t. Well, okay, it does, but just when I think I have a workable process down, I start a new book and end up doing something completely different. In general, I start at the beginning and write until I get to the end. I usually have an outline. I don’t always follow it. My characters often do whatever the hell they want no matter what I have written down that they’re supposed to do. Most of my first drafts are a mix of handwritten and computer written. Sometimes I write on the computer, sometimes on the iPad, most frequently in a notebook with a pen. I’m not one of those people who gets up at the same time every day, sits down in front of the computer or other writing apparatus, and cranks out X number of words in X amount of time. Sometimes I do that. Most of the time I write whenever I can grab the chance, then hope all the pieces fit together when I stick them all in Scrivener.

Next Tagged Authors:

TO BE ANNOUNCED WITH GREAT POMP AND CIRCUMSTANCE!!!

*drum roll*  Marteeka Karland

As If You Never Left Me--Sunday Snog

Another Sunday--another excerpt. And since As If You Never Left Me comes out TOMORROW from Crimson Romance, this Sunday's snog will give you another glimpse at Rey and Joely's story.

The snowballs flew crazily for several frenzied minutes. She screeched and he hollered, she laughed and he let out great howls of mirth. She barely missed his head; he came within inches of hitting her square in the face with a slushy projectile. Finally, emboldened by laughter and adrenaline, she slipped out from behind her fort, then darted across the snow to sneak behind his fort and dump her last three snowballs down the back of his shirt.

He howled in protest and grabbed her, pinning her arms behind her. “I don’t even have a decent coat and you do that to me?”

Immobilized against his strong chest, she could do nothing but look up into his laughing face. “I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not.”

“You’re right, I’m not.”

“Then neither am I,” he said, and kissed her.

His lips were icy cold but the inside of his mouth was warm, his tongue hot as it stroked against her lips. She opened to him, pressing hard into his heat. Snow and cold forgotten, she sought only that warmth, that union. His mouth on hers, soft and mobile, his tongue pressing softly against hers. He pulled her close, his hands sliding down her back.

She clutched at his coat, so absorbed it was a few long seconds before she registered the cold, the wet. As she pulled back, he ducked forward, his mouth still seeking hers even as she ended the kiss.

“You’re soaked,” she said. “We should get you inside.”

He dipped his head one more time toward her, and when he missed, he smiled a little and said, “Yeah. My shoes are full of snow and my jeans are soaked.”

“You’re going to catch pneumonia.” Fighting the reluctance of her entire body, she took a step back. Her hand sought his, unwilling to break the connection totally. “Come on. I’ll make you some hot cocoa.”

Humpday Hump

Sharing an excerpt from my upcoming release from Crimson Romance: As If You Never Left Me for Marteeka Karland's Humpday Hump blog hop.

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With the Jeep in low gear, she trundled over the uneven, snowy ground until they were shielded by a stand of evergreens.

“Back seat?” he said, mischief in his eyes.

“Damn straight,” she answered, adjusting the driver’s seat as she spoke, moving it forward as far as it would go.

Braving the cold, they got out and climbed into the back seat. Before Joely had quite closed the door, Rey had caught hold of her, dragging her across the back seat, half into his lap. He kissed her, devouring her mouth while his hands slid down her back, cupped her ass. His tongue pressed in, tangling with hers.

Joely laughed. "What?" Rey said, almost as if in protest.

She shook her head, unable really to explain. It just struck her funny, that they were about to make love in the backseat of a car, like teenagers afraid of getting caught by their parents.

He grinned at her, eyes twinkling, and she sensed that he understood. She smiled back. That was the way they had always been—in synch, practically reading each other's minds. It felt good to have that back.

She grappled with the snap on his jeans, with the zipper, finding it quite difficult to get them unfastened while he was sitting. But she managed to get them open, and to work the jeans down his hips and partway down his thighs. He was already firmly erect, and as she worked the jeans down, he worried a rather bent condom package out of his pocket and laid it on the seat next to him.

She smiled up at him, not sure why that particular gesture touched her so much. Maybe because it proved he'd planned ahead, or maybe because it proved he was thinking about protecting her. Either way, it made her warm. Made her love him.

She maneuvered into an uncomfortable sitting position on the floor between the driver's seat and the back seat. She'd positioned the driver's seat to its farthest forward position, so there was some room, but it wasn’t quite enough. Still, she could make do. She adjusted until she was relatively comfortable, sitting between Rey's open knees. He looked down at her, heavy-lidded, lips slightly parted, and put his hand on her head, combing his fingers into her hair. He knew what was coming. Not forcing it, but obviously anticipating it.

She smiled. Tenting her fingertips against his knees, she traced them up his thighs, then back down. His eyes closed and he let his head settle back against the headrest with a soft sigh of contentment.

She slipped her fingers again along his thighs, up to his belly, dropped a fingertip into his navel, lifted it back out again, carefully circumnavigating even the dark curls of his pubic hair. Then, with no preamble, she bent and took him into her mouth. He jumped, gasped, and she chuckled, licking him.

He filled her mouth as well as he did her body, and the taste of his skin brought back memories of other back seats, other blowjobs, quickly going down on him behind bushes at dusk on the college quad. She took him in, deep, all the way to the back of her throat, smiling at the way he fit perfectly against the back of her palate. She had missed that. They fit together like puzzle pieces. His hands fisted gently in her hair and he began to pulse his hips. It felt good. He tasted good. Faster, deeper, and she brought up a hand to curl her fingers around him as he thrust, working his skin, feeling the hardness beneath it. Then, abruptly, he stopped, and drew her head up.

"Inside," he said. "I want to come inside you."

Christmas Blog Hop--Let's Talk About the Weather

Weather in Colorado is whacky. You might think weather in your state is whacky, but it’s got nothing on Colorado.

When I moved to the mountains west of Denver after seven years in New Jersey, I had to learn new weather words. Words like sublimation and virga and graupel. I had never heard of this nonsense. (I shall now define these terms for you so I feel all smart and stuff.)

• Sublimation. When a solid moves directly to a gas without stopping at liquid or passing go or collecting $200. Basically this looks like snow or ice on the road turning to a massive evil cloud attacking your car as you attempt to go grocery shopping.
• Virga. This is rain that hits dry air and evaporates before it hits the ground. It looks like a big dark rain cloud with long, gray stripes coming out of it. Or sometimes like a ginormous jellyfish hovering over your car, attempting to eat it while you try to go grocery shopping.
• Graupel. The official definition http://www.weather.com/glossary/g.html of this is snow pellets. They tend to be kind of soft. They look and feel like some nutcase in the vast heavens is pelting you and everything around you with tiny balls of Styrofoam while you try to go grocery shopping.

So what does this have to do with writing? Well, I have this bad habit that drives me to use new words in stories when I find out about them. So when I found out about these weird weather phenomena, I had to work them into a story somehow. What better way than to make one of my delectable heroes a meteorologist?

Now you might not think this is sexy. You would be wrong. A guy who knows something about the weather is totes sexy. And so was born Carter Allen, the meteorologist hero of Mostly Sunny with Chance of Belgian Chocolate. So basically, I wrote that novella so I could use the words graupel and virga in a story.

So what does this have to do with Christmas? Not a lot, except that our Christmas weather is shaping up so far to be particularly weird, and I wish I had Carter around to tell me whether we’ll have snow or not

Next Big Thing Blog Hop

So I got tagged for this thing by Cindi Myers, so I'm posting my post today which is the posting day I was supposed to post my post. So here's my post:

1. What is the title of your latest release? Necromancing Nim. The question also asked about WIPs, so I'll just add that I have several WIPs on the front burners, one of which is the follow-up to Nim. The tentative title is Sorcelling Sebastian. (Should that be one "l" or 2? I keep waffling...)

2. Where did the idea come from for the book? I wanted to write an urban fantasy-style story with a kickass heroine, but I wanted to avoid or subvert some of the clichés that have begun to develop around the genre. Like kickass but whiny heroines and annoying love triangles that never resolve. Also that whole thing where everyone the heroine meets falls for her, and where she eventually becomes some kind of supernatural being. (Nim does experience some side effects, but I didn't want her to be supernaturally powerful in any significant way. She's just a kickass chick with a water gun full of holy water.)

3. What genre does your book fall under? Urban fantasy with erotic romance elements.

4. What actors would you choose to play the part of your characters in a movie version? Sebastian is Alexis Denisof, no doubt about it. Colin is sort of David Boreanaz from his Angel days, but he drifted quite a bit. Mostly because I got mad at Boreanaz for cheating on his wife. And for being a Flyers fan. (I can forgive him for the former if his wife can, but the latter? Sorry, DBor.) I didn't "cast" Nim when I was writing. When I put together the cover art form I settled on a picture of Zooey Deschanel, mostly because she has the big anime eyes. But Nim has short, shaggy black hair. The cover art captured her pretty well, I think.

5. What is the one-sentence synopsis of your book? One domineering vampire was enough—can Nim handle two and still avert the vampire-zombie apocalypse? (I totally cheated on that cause it was originally two sentences. But I'm an editor. I can do that.)

6. Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency? Um.. neither? This is a weird question to my overly literal mind. It’s published by Samhain Books, and it came out on October 23.

7. How long did it take you to write the first draft of your manuscript? LOL. Four years? More or less? That was writing sporadically, setting it aside and coming back to it. A lot of that was struggling with the voice and getting the plot to work. I’d never written a full-length novel in first person before, and a lot of the challenges of that approach, well, challenged me. I promise the next one won’t take as long…

8. What other books would you compare this story to within your genre? Maybe Laurell K. Hamilton’s Anita Blake books and/or Charlain Harris’ Sookie Stackhouse series. My ménage in the book is almost a direct reaction to Anita Blake’s constant back-and-forth between Richard and Jean-Claude, which I found ridiculous. Quit whining, girl! Two hot guys? Do 'em both? Which of course is what Nim does. And they do each other, cause that's hot. But there’s a lot of screwed-up, quirky humor, which begs for a comparison to Sookie and maybe to Maryjanice Davidson’s Queen Betsy.

9. Who or what inspired you to write this book. I think I kinda answered that question already. Although another tidbit is that Nim's name came first. I had run across a fanfic writer named Nimuë Tucker (I think it's a pseud--I'm not sure). I loved the name, so I wrote it down. When it came time to write the book, I checked online and discovered she was still writing under that name, so I figured it'd be better to change it a bit. So I stole my best friend's last name and called her Nimuë Taylor instead. At which point I decided I was really glad I decided to write it in first person cause that umlaut is a PITA.

10. What else about the book might pique the reader’s interest? It’s funny. I even laughed at it myself when I was doing edits. (Maybe that’s not the best recommendation?) But even when there are vampires exploding and shit hitting the fan, Nim has a sarcastic voice that keeps things grounded

I tagged Angela Parson Myers for this, as well, but I don't see her post up yet. Go visit her site anyway. (Hi, Mom!)

And yeah, I know I was supposed to tag five people, but it looks like everybody in the WORLD has already been tagged for this hop, so I didn't. Also:

With Love Valentine's Day Blog Hop

I thought I had scheduled blog posts for last week, but it looks like I didn't. Oops? In any case, I'm starting off this week with a Blog Hop! This hop is huge, folks, so be sure to click over to check out the 261 other participants. That's a grand total of 262 participants and 262 prizes up for grabs. Check it out at http://thebloghopspot.com/event-page/.

I'm giving away a copy of my fantasy romance novel Ring of Darkness from Noble Romance. I wrote a post about how this book came about here, so check it out if you like. Below is an excerpt.

To enter the contest to win a copy of the book, just leave a comment below before the end of the day on February 14th. I'll draw from the entries and contact the winner no later than Friday of this week.



Some info about the book:

Brienda's life is about to be turned upside down. After five years at the temple of the God-Mother, she is to be married to Tamalor of Callista on her father's orders in order to end aggression between their two countries.

Brienda is upset at this turn of events, but she comes to believe it is part of a larger plan and the God-Mother has put her in this place to bring not only peace but a restoration of balance to the ancient powers of her world. She is right, and, in the end, the larger plan will demand more from her than she ever thought she could give--including Tamalor.

EXCERPT: Ring of Darkness

 

Finally bathed, dressed, and ready for dinner, Brienda stood in front of her long mirror, appraising her appearance.

The dress seemed immodest at best, but Brienda knew the show of décolletage was fashionable. The blue flattered her, she supposed, as did the blue ribbons Liara had braided into her flyaway, blonde hair.

Too many freckles, she thought, all over her face and her breasts. Then she wondered why her freckles bothered her. She didn’t know what she should be feeling. Her emotions were in such a jumble she couldn’t pin down any of them. She only knew she didn’t want to cry.

"Do I look all right?" she asked Liara. She felt so pale as to be nearly nonexistent, merely a blue dress encasing nothing.

"You look lovely, Milady. Here, let me put some color on your cheeks."

The rouge covered some of the freckles, but seemed garish to Brienda. Liara also supplied tints for Brienda’s lips and eyelids. When she had finished, Brienda felt even more unreal, as if the makeup and fine clothes were all that was left of her.

"There," Liara said, admiring her handiwork. "The Lord Callista will be enchanted."

Was this what would enchant the Lord Callista? A pretty dress and a painted face? Or perhaps he didn’t care about her appearance at all, but only about ending the war with Grammale. Her lips trembled; apparently, she was going to cry whether she wanted to or not.

"Don’t be nervous," Liara told her. "You’ll be fine."

She wasn’t nervous. She was terrified. Nevertheless, when her father came to fetch her, she drew herself up tall and refused the arm he held out for her.

"Lord Tamalor won’t appreciate defiance," Baradan said in a low voice.

Brienda didn’t answer. If doing everything she could to maintain her sanity constituted defiance, then so be it.

They turned the corner, heading toward the Hall. "You do look lovely, though."

"Thank you, Father," she said coolly.

They fell silent. Brienda barely noticed. She wished she had her prayer beads, but had no way of carrying them in the extravagant dress. The prayers calmed her as she recited them in her head, but she was losing count of the number of repetitions without the beads.

As they neared the hall, Baradan grasped her shoulder. "Don’t disgrace me," he said.

Brienda gave him a bitter smile. She had no intention of disgracing anyone.

The hall was full already, the long tables lined with people. Even the dogs, hovering among the dried rushes on the floor, seemed expectant. Baradan led Brienda to the seat next to his. On the other side of the table sat three empty chairs.

"They’re not here yet," Baradan explained, a grin twitching at his lips. "Apparently the Lord Callista ripped his trousers."

Surprised and more than a little amused, Brienda fought back a smile of her own. "I hope he had an extra pair."

Baradan laughed. "The thought of marrying you must have overly excited him."

Brienda’s smile died. Trust her father to find lewdness in everything. He hadn’t even been able to make the trip back from the temple without taking serving girls to bed at every inn, often in groups. Several had looked younger than Brienda. She’d been grateful he’d made allowances for her to have a separate room wherever they stopped, though even that hadn’t shielded her from the noise.

He leered happily at the girl who refilled his glass. She acknowledged his look with a smile before turning politely to Brienda. "Wine?"

Brienda nodded. The girl filled her glass. Tasting it, Brienda barely registered the fruity aroma and rich flavor, but the warming effects of the alcohol steadied her.

"Why didn’t you tell me the wedding was in a week?" she asked Baradan quietly.

"I thought you had enough to think about." He still watched the door to the hall. His mouth twitched. "Here he is."

Her heart beating far too quickly, Brenda looked toward the door. Three men had entered the hall. Two wore plain brown soldiers’ uniforms, while the third was unmistakably Lord Callista. She recognized him from the scrying bowl. The realization unnerved her.

Tall, broad, and dark, her future husband wore a black doublet and trousers, black boots of fine leather. A heavy gold signet ring decorated his right thumb.

Carefully, her hand shaking on the wineglass she’d just set down, Brienda looked at his face. Among the fair men of Grammale, he was striking. His skin was nut-brown, his long, black hair tied back with a simple, black cord. He had a long, straight nose and a full lower lip. Amidst the darkness, his eyes were startlingly blue. He looked across the room, saw Baradan, and smiled. Brienda felt a little weak. She set her glass down and was surprised to find it half-empty.

Baradan stood as Tamalor approached, sketching a brief bow, which Tamalor returned.

"Lord Grammale," Tamalor said. "A pleasure to see you again."

Brienda averted her eyes. Tamalor’s voice was deep but gentle, with a clipped accent that made him sound as if he were talking too fast.

"Yes," Baradan answered. He cleared his throat. Tamalor had politely avoided looking at Brienda. "This is my daughter, Brienda."

The introduction gave Tamalor leave to address his bride-to-be. "Milady," he said. He looked directly into her eyes and smiled, putting out his hand. "You look lovely, if I may say so."

Brienda laid her hand in his. His palm was rough with calluses. This close, she could smell him, the odor faint and musky. She trembled as his lips touched her hand. He was a strange and alien creature, something she’d never thought she would have to become acquainted with.

She withdrew her hand as he straightened. The reality of what would happen to her had suddenly struck. Those big, rough hands would touch her. He would invade her with his body and change her forever. There would be no rescue—of that she was suddenly certain. But how could she possibly bear it?

She couldn’t eat the extravagant dinner. The roast quail, one of her favorite dishes, stuck in her throat. Lord Callista and her father spoke of treaties and battles and debated points of horsemanship. Brienda fought back tears and drank too much wine. Her gaze kept wandering to Tamalor, wondering how much he would hurt her. Wondering what it would be like to be separated from the God-Mother forever.

Catching one of Brienda’s surreptitious glances, Tamalor smiled at her. The smile made small lines appear at the corners of his mouth and eyes. His mouth was gentle, not hard like her father’s. She couldn’t stand to hold his gaze. She took another sip of wine, and her head spun.

"Father," she whispered.

Absorbed in conversation with Tamalor, he didn’t answer. Brienda tugged at his sleeve. "Father, I need to leave."

He turned toward her, his mouth a thin line. "You’ll stay until you’re excused."

"Father, I don’t feel well." She tried to keep her voice low, but desperation leaked into it. Tamalor leaned toward her.

"Is something wrong?"

"It’s nothing," Baradan shot back. He turned back to Brienda. "You’ll stay until I say you can leave."

"Then I would suggest you let me leave before I vomit all over the table. I don’t think that would make a good impression on the Lord Callista." She managed to keep her voice low, but inside she was fuming.

Over Baradan’s shoulder, Tamalor said, "Milady, you don’t look well. Perhaps you’re in need of rest?"

Baradan’s eyes flashed angrily at Brienda before he turned back to Tamalor. "Perhaps you’re right," he said, as if it had all been his idea. "I’ll send for Liara."

"Thank you," Brienda said, trying to sound grateful and failing miserably.

Liara came promptly. Relieved, Brienda took her hand and let the older woman help her from her chair. Tamalor stood as Brienda did.

"I hope it’s not serious," he said. The mild, accented voice carried genuine concern.

"I’ll be fine," she assured him in a quavering voice. "It was a long trip. I only need to rest." She couldn’t look at him. Maybe later she could try again. She’d have to look at him sometime, she supposed.

"Well, then." He lifted his hand, and, for a moment, she was afraid he would touch her. But he only turned the hand slightly and lowered it again. "Sleep well."

"Thank you." She should say something else, she thought, and stammered, "You, too." Shakily, she took Liara’s hand and let herself be led to her rooms.

Liara looked concerned. "You didn’t eat very much."

"I wasn’t hungry. I need to sleep. I’m exhausted. They shouldn’t have made me do this. Can you—" She stopped. Tears rose in a great lump in her throat, stinging her eyes, blinding and choking her. She swallowed hard. "Leave me, please."

Liara departed quietly. Brienda crumpled to the bed and wept.

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