#GuestBLog w/ Love and Turmoil by @Luanna_Stewart @WildRosePress #recipe #historicalromance

Now that we’re into April and the days are turning balmy (the temperature will be +4 degrees Celsius today so I know I’m pushing the whole balmy thing but it’s been a heck of a winter) my menu planning is changing. I’ll put away recipes for all the hearty comfort foods that sustained us through the seemingly never-ending Nor’easter storms and start dreaming of fresh salads, tender juicy things on the grill, and fruity desserts. And since dessert is the most important part of any meal I want to share a delicious, simple cake recipe with you so you’ll feel better about the end of winter, too. Or maybe you live in one of the southern US states and your winter has been gone for weeks and you’re already scampering around in shorts and halter tops. In which case I might have to hate you just a little bit.  Or maybe you’re in the southern hemisphere and are looking forward to cosy evenings filled with hot toddies and bread pudding. (Ooh, maybe it’s not too late for more comfort foods.)

Here in Nova Scotia, we’re many months away from enjoying local berries. And, I’m sorry, but the things called strawberries available in the supermarket this time of year should be ashamed to call themselves strawberries. Having been raised on wild blueberries (my mum’s childhood home has a blueberry field in the backyard) I’m not a fan of cultivated blueberries. Now, we do have an abundance of locally grown apples, but in my head, apple desserts are more of an autumn/winter thing. Call me silly if you like.

So where does that leave us for fruity desserts in April? Citrus. Not locally grown (though with climate change that could happen) but abundant and relatively inexpensive. Also prevents scurvy. I came across this recipe a month ago and have baked this cake three times. So far. I took it to a family supper and it received rave reviews. And did I mention it’s dang simple to mix together and bake? The easy tart-sweet glaze finishes it off beautifully.

Does your eating change with the seasons? What are you looking forward to cooking in the coming months?

Lemon Cake with Lemon Glaze

Recipe by Nagi at www.recipetineats.com

Wet:

2/3 cup vegetable or canola oil

2 eggs

1 ½ tbsp grated lemon rind (1 large or 2 medium lemons)

¼ cup / 65 ml fresh lemon juice

1 cup/250g plain yoghurt

1 1/4 cups / 275g caster sugar (superfine sugar, granulated ok too)

Dry:

2 cups/300g plain flour (all purpose flour)

4 tsp baking powder

Pinch of salt

Glaze:

1 3/4 cup / 210 g icing sugar

1 tbsp lemon juice

1 1/2 tbsp plain yoghurt

1. Preheat oven to 180C/350F (standard) or 160C/320F (fan/convection). Grease a 20 cm / 8” springform pan with butter.

2. Place Wet ingredients in a bowl. Whisk until combined.

3. Sprinkle over flour, baking powder and salt. Whisk until smooth few small lumps is ok.

4. Pour into pan it should be fairly thick but pourable. Bake for 50 minutes or until a skewer comes out clean.

5. Remove metal ring and cool on rack then glaze.

Glaze:

1. Place ingredients in a bowl and whisk until smooth. Test down the side of the bowl to get the right thickness, using 1 tsp of yoghurt at a time to thin it out if required. Glaze should drip (slowly, because it's thick) but not be see through.

2. Place rack on a tray or baking paper.

3. Pour glaze over the middle of the cake, gently push towards the edges so it drips down the sides.

4. Let it set for 1 hour before transferring to a serving plate.

Here’s the link to the recipe on Nagi’s website so you can see a picture and read additional notes about preparation and presentation. Enjoy!

https://www.recipetineats.com/lemon-cake/

***

Title:  Love and Turmoil

Author:  Luanna Stewart

Genre:  historical romance

Publisher:  The Wild Rose Press

Book Blurb:

Six months after burying her wastrel husband, Lady Arabella Woodbridge has resigned herself to a lonely life in the countryside with only her two adopted nieces for company. Being a young, respectable widow is – frustrating. Then the charming and wickedly handsome Samuel Payn takes up residence in the neighboring manor house.

Retired explorer and occasional pirate Samuel Payn is on a two-fold mission – retrieve buried loot, and locate the father who abandoned his mother to a life of poverty. But a gang of murderous villains is also after the buried treasure. And someone is threatening to tear apart the lovely widow’s family.

Will Sam’s single-minded determination to uncover his true identity threaten Arabella’s happiness - and his life?

Excerpt:

“I hope my girls haven’t been bothersome, Mr. Payn.”

“Not at all. Edwards had the brilliant idea to search out the nets. I’d not noticed the wide variety of butterflies in the garden, not until we tried to catch them.” He chuckled. “I’m afraid the insects have outwitted us.”

She laughed, gazing up into his gorgeous blue eyes, almost silver in the bright light. She breathed in his spicy scent and every part of her came alive. She fought the urge to lean into him, wrap her arms around his slender waist, and bury her face in his chest.

Glancing away to gain time to recover from the onslaught of desire, she watched her daughters play. “They appear to be losing interest in a game they can’t win.”

Mr. Payn took her hand in his. She met his gaze, his eyes darkened. “Some of us don’t give up after the first attempt or two.”

       He was not speaking of catching butterflies. He was speaking of catching her.

Buy Links:

https://catalog.thewildrosepress.com/all-titles/5434-love-and-turmoil.html

https://www.amazon.com/Love-Turmoil-Luanna-Stewart-ebook/dp/B076Z4RGRR

https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/love-and-turmoil-luanna-stewart/1127353431?ean=2940158945496

http://www.bookstrand.com/love-and-turmoil

Author Biography:

Luanna Stewart has been creating adventures for her imaginary friends since childhood. As soon as she discovered her grandmother's stash of romance novels, all plots had to lead to a happily-ever-after.

Luanna writes full time, concentrating on sexy romantic suspense, steamy paranormal romance, and spicy historical romance.

Born and raised in Nova Scotia, Luanna has recently returned to the land of her birth with her dear husband and two spoiled cats. When she's not torturing her heroes and heroines, she’s in her kitchen baking something delicious.

Under her previous pen name of Grace Hood she has two novellas published with The Wild Rose Press.

Social Media Links:

Website:  http://www.luannastewart.com/

Twitter:  https://twitter.com/Luanna_Stewart

Facebook:  https://www.facebook.com/Luanna.Stewart.nau

Pinterest:  https://www.pinterest.com/luannastewart/

Goodreads:  https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/14104212.Luanna_Stewart

Amazon Author Page:  www.amazon.com/author/luanna_stewart

BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/profile/luanna-stewart

GPS for Writing

GPS FOR WRITING

     (I wrote this article in 2009 after a road trip to California. Since then, self-publishing has forged a new direction for many of us. I’ve updated this to reflect the changes, but the basic message is the same: start with a road map even if you decide to take a detour. Another update: after that trip we bought a GPS, and more recently, we bought a new car that has a navigation system. If we travel anywhere now where we need to rent a car, we bring our GPS. I also now have a Smartphone and am learning how to use the navigation APP on that. I don’t anticipate we’ll get lost much, but then, maybe we will, and maybe we’ll discover another hidden gem.)

     Do you have a GPS in your car or as an APP on your phone? It seems everyone nowadays has a GPS in some form or another. Before our 2009 trip up the California coast, I decided we should buy a GPS and take it with us. My husband disagreed, saying the maps we got from AAA would be enough to guide us. When we picked up the rental car, we turned down the rental company’s GPS because we didn’t want to pay $140 when we could buy one for about $50 more at home. Big, big mistake.

                                                               

     We got lost a lot on that trip. A lot. My husband becomes unglued when he gets lost. At one point I was writing a story in my head titled, “A GPS Would Have Saved My Marriage.” We finally calmed down and resigned ourselves to getting lost at times. We missed many of the sights we’d wanted to see, partly because the state of California doesn’t believe in signs, partly because we didn’t have a GPS, and partly because I didn’t thoroughly read the books AAA gave us. We missed Big Sur, which was one of the main things we’d wanted to see. On the other hand, while lost we stumbled onto Ventura, a true gem of a beach town. Now I know where all the Sixties hippies went. We spent a wonderful, unexpected afternoon in sunny, beautiful, quirky Ventura and decided it was a place in which we could happily live.

                                                                  

Big Sur

                                                                      

               What does this have to do with writing? Do you have a GPS for your writing? Do you know what direction you want your writing to take, or are you barreling down the freeway and hoping for the best? When you started writing to sell, did you map out a plan? Did you decide to attend conferences and workshops to learn all you could about the craft of writing? Then, did you write and write and hone your craft? Or did you write with no real direction, feeling you didn’t need to study the market, that your books would find their way to the right publishers, like a GPS you plug in with no destination and wait for it to take you somewhere?

     I know writers whose plan it is to sell only to a big New York house, and if they don’t, they’ll put their manuscripts into the proverbial drawer rather than go with an epub or a small press, or indie publish. There’s nothing wrong with that. It’s their choice. Yet, they may be cheating themselves by not recalculating their direction. I can hear that inner voice now going, “Recalculating, recalculating.” What if one of their manuscripts is a little too out of the box for the big houses? Maybe a reputable epub or small press would love it. Maybe indie pubbing that unusual story will bring major success. There are times when you might need to veer off onto small detours. You never know where those detours will take you.

     By all means, get back onto the main highway after the detour if you still want, but by opening yourself to new roads and taking a less traditional publishing route, you’ll have a book out there, a book people will want to read. Isn’t that better than keeping the book hidden in a drawer?  

     On our California trip, we didn’t get to see Big Sur, but we discovered Ventura. And I’m so glad we did. When I started writing, there were one or two epubs and they were very new and earned no respect from the writing community. Like most of my fellow members of RWA, I dreamed of selling to a big NY house. After I was rejected by several big publishers, someone suggested I submit to Avalon Books, a small press. I hadn’t considered a small press. I submitted and I sold to them. My book, a traditional romance, gave me entry into RWA PAN.

Busy Bee Cafe, Ventura, CA

                                                                 

     Since then, numerous epubs have sprung up. Some fell by the wayside, but many others are thriving. I contracted for my second book, a romantic suspense, with The Wild Rose Press. In GPS terms, I haven’t found Big Sur, the NY publishers, but I found my publishing Ventura, small press and epubs, and now indie publishing. All places where I’ve settled comfortably. I’m no longer heading down the expressway hoping to someday sell to a large publisher. I’ve discovered the joys of driving a less traditional route.

     You might have to change direction from time to time, but the important thing is to know where you’re going. Study the market, write what you love, learn all you can and drive forward into that publishing freeway. But be prepared for detours and know those unexpected twists in the road might lead you to greater adventures.

       Get lost in a book this summer, read Sizzling Summer, a three-book set of full-length romances I'm privileged to be part of. When summer is over, Sizzling Summer will be gone too. Only 99 cents at Amazon and Barnes & Noble.

How hot do you like your romance? 

A special three-book set 
Lynn Reynolds 
Ann Whitaker 
Cara Marsi 

Love Capri Style by Lynn Reynolds 
A sexy, sun-drenched romance set on the island of Capri. Can inept journalist Amanda Jackson get an exclusive on playboy Eric Greyford, or will she wind up as just another item on the gossip pages of his newspaper? 

Dog Nanny by Ann Whitaker 
A romantic comedy set in the heart of Texas 
When vet tech Julie Shields agrees to train two delinquent poodles to save them from becoming doggies of divorce, she doesn't count on having to harness her desire for hunky pilot Nick Worthington. 

A Catered Romance by Cara Marsi 
There's more than business brewing between two old high school flames. 
Stubbornly self-reliant Mary Beth Kendrick needs financial backing to keep her catering business cooking. A looming corporate buyout forces her to accept help from Tom Sackett, the man who broke her heart and left her with no appetite for love.

  

http://www.amazon.com/Sizzling-Summer/dp/B00JZCE1SG/?tag=carmaraut-20

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/sizzling-summer-lynn-reynolds/1119638711?ean=2940149588060

    

      

    

     

USING YOUR ETHNIC HERITAGE IN YOUR WRITING

USING YOUR ETHNIC HERITAGE IN YOUR WRITING

by

Cara Marsi


You’ve all heard the old adage, “Write what you know.” Of course, we do research to write about places we’ve never visited, or we make up our own worlds. But regardless of what worlds we writers imagine, we put a little bit of ourselves into everything we write.

I hadn’t thought of using my ethnic heritage in my writing until my third book. In the first two books I wrote (one published, one not), my heroes and heroines had Irish/English names, as do most characters in American books. Face it, we Americans have an easier time pronouncing English, Irish, Scottish and German names than we do Italian, Polish, French, etc.

When I decided to write my third book, I had an epiphany. Why not make at least one of my protagonists of Italian descent, as I am? Thus, Doriana Callahan, the heroine of my romantic suspense, Logan’s Redemption, originally from The Wild Rose Press and now available on Amazon Kindle, BN Nook and Smashwords. Doriana, named after a woman I know who is an immigrant from Rome, Italy, is half Italian, half Irish. Doriana has the quintessential Italian mother, loving, but intrusive, named after one of my favorite aunts. Doriana’s Nana lives in South Philadelphia and is a sweet, tiny elderly Italian woman who is a terrific cook, modeled after my husband’s grandmother and mine. I had such fun writing these people because they are so familiar and dear to me. I put in a scene where Doriana, her mother, her cousin, and Nana are making Italian wedding soup. My cousins make wedding soup together every year.

I used my ethnic heritage again in my romantic suspense novella, Murder, Mi Amore, available now from The Wild Rose Press. Murder, Mi Amore is set almost entirely in Rome, Italy, with an Italian hero and an Italian-American heroine. I even included a whole chapter set in the small town in Abruzzo where my grandparents were raised. Writing Murder, Mi Amore brought back memories of my trip to Italy in 2006. Every bit of setting — the hotel where my heroine Lexie stays, the streets she travels, even the food she eats — are authentic, based on my own experiences. However, unlike my heroine and hero, I wasn’t chased through Rome by very bad people trying to kill me.

In the past two years I’ve sold a dozen short romance stories, most of them to the confession magazines. I’ve used Italian and Polish names for many of my short story characters too. You have to be careful when using ethnic last names. The names must be easy to pronounce - like Russo, DiMarco, Novak, Morelli, Brioni, Cortese. You don’t want readers tripping over the names.

But then there’s my werewolf paranormal, Cursed Mates, available now from Noble Romance Publishing. No ethnic names there. My hero is an English nobleman who happens to be over 500 years old. I’d originally given my heroine an Eastern European first and last name, but that didn’t work for various reasons. Now she has a name which better suits her, even if it’s not exactly ethnic.

Writing characters who are familiar, who might have a shared background with you, can make for stronger stories. But the name has to fit the character. I used an English name for the hero of Cursed Mates because being a tortured English nobleman is a big part of my story and of this character.

I’ll use an ethnic name whenever it fits, but I know, regardless of ethnicity, the characters’ names must tell the readers a little bit about them.

LET ME INTRODUCE MYSELF

Let Me Introduce Myself

by

Cara Marsi

I’m a new member author and this is my first post. I want to thank Marianne for inviting me to be a member author, and I look forward to getting to know everyone. Marianne suggested I introduce myself, so here’s a little about me. My name is Carolyn Matkowsky, but I write under Cara Marsi.

It took ten long years of writing and rejections before I sold my first book. That book, “A Catered Affair,” a sweet, traditional romance, was published by Avalon Books under my real name. Avalon publishes in hardback, and they sell directly to libraries. I didn’t want a pen name because I always wanted to write under my real name. I figured I’d worked hard enough to sell a book and I wanted people to know I’d made it. However, I soon found out readers had a hard time spelling and pronouncing Matkowsky. When I was nominated in 2003 as an up and coming author in a romance magazine’s readers’ poll, my name was horribly misspelled. That decided me to take a pen name that was easy to say and spell. I’ve been Cara Marsi ever since.

I thought once I sold a book I was well on my way to being multi-published. Was I wrong. It took me four more years to sell another one. In 2007 I contracted with The Wild Rose Press for my romantic suspense, “Logan’s Redemption.” Despite glowing reviews, my sales were disappointing. In 2010 I got my rights back and published “Logan’s Redemption” myself on Kindle. The sales have been great, and I couldn’t be happier. I gave new life to a book I love, and thousands of people have now read it.

I’m a slow writer. While I struggled to complete a paranormal romance, my first attempt at that genre, I became discouraged and considered giving up writing altogether. Then I discovered short story writing. I sold my first short story to New Love Stories Magazine (now defunct) in early 2009. Since then, I’ve sold ten short romance stories to the Trues (True Love, True Romance, True Story, True Experience). Sadly, of all those, only True Story remains. The magazines are owned by Dorchester, and we all know about their troubles. I hope and pray that Dorchester continues to publish True Story and its sister magazine, True Confessions. I love writing for the Trues, and I’ve sold every story I submitted to them. Writing short stories kept me in the game when I had doubts about my ability to publish again.

In late 2009, I put aside the paranormal and began writing a novella for the romantic suspense series, Jewels of the Night, from The Wild Rose Press. I finished that novella in four months, a record for me. The Wild Rose Press offered a contract, and “Murder, Mi Amore,” set almost entirely in Rome, Italy, was released December 15, 2010. I completed my paranormal romance, “Cursed Mates,” and Noble Romance Publishing offered a contract. “Cursed Mates” was released December 13, 2010. After a dry spell of no books, I had two releases within two days of each other.

I’ve just sold another short story to True Story magazine, for their August issue, and I’ve completed a sweet romance novella, “Wedding Dreams,” which I plan to publish myself. I’ve had it professionally edited by a wonderful and talented editor. I wouldn’t put a book up without it being edited.

On a personal note, I live on the East Coast with my husband and a fat black cat named Killer. She’s a sweetheart. My husband can be a sweetheart too, sometimes. We have one son who lives in Las Vegas. I miss him and wish I lived closer to him. If I could convince my husband to move to the Phoenix area of Arizona, I’d be in heaven.

When I’m not writing, I’m hitting the gym (five days a week), reading, watching TV (I’m a TV junkie), and planning our next vacation. I love to travel. I set my stories either in places we’ve visited or places close to home. As I mentioned, “Murder, Mi Amore” is set almost entirely in Rome, Italy. The last chapter is set in Las Vegas. We visited Italy in 2006, and we’ve been to Vegas many times. “Cursed Mates” is set in Maine, a place we’ve also visited and loved. My book with Avalon is set in Wilmington, Delaware; “Logan’s Redemption” takes place in Philadelphia, a city close to us. All my short stories are set in Delaware, New Jersey and Pennsylvania.

I grew up in the corporate world. I like to say I’m a former corporate drone and cubicle dweller. I worked for the local phone company, now called Verizon, for over two decades, then worked for an insurance company. I was downsized from my job in 2008, and am now realizing my dream of writing all day if I want.

So there you have it – my life, such as it is.

Springtime

Spring is one of my favorite seasons. Not only do we have the "prettiness" returning to the land, but there's the air of love, of life, of newfound beginnings that comes with Springtime. An air of romance to come, or maybe romance rekindled.


There's also spring storms in my neck of the woods. Passionate unleashings of nature, that can have devastating effects, but also replenish what the grey of winter has made dormant. In this, the first week of Spring (maybe not officially according to calendar but according to my Claire Laws of Climate), we've already weathered hailstorms with golfball to tennisball size hail, and in a couple days we are preparing for another round of severe storms with possible tornados. Such is the life for those of us in Tornado Alley.


But there's another part of me that comes to life when Spring rolls around, and it's, of course, the horses. This is the first year in many that I will have a foal on the ground. And, as I've shared here before, my stallion passed so this coming foal is extra special to me. Little baby Arabians... who will grow up into the elegant beauties that inspire my heart.


A perfect combination to go with the release of Waiting For Yes, the steamy contemporary that was inspired by my coming foal's sire. Initially I was a bit disappointed it wouldn't see a winter release given the setting of the novel. But, in hindsight, I don't think I could ask for a better schedule. It all fits together so very appropriately... perhaps a little too appropriately.


In any case, Waiting For Yes, is now available for pre-order and in paperback through The Wild Rose Press. It's a story about courage, trust, fears and dreams. And I sincerely hope you will enjoy it.


Gabrielle Warrenton gave up everything to pursue her dream of a first-class Egyptian Arabian breeding farm. Her future lies in her new stallion’s success. Though she possesses an exceptional eye for horseflesh, she lacks the training knowledge, and Bahadur Mamoon has a date with the nation’s most affluent show in three weeks. Nothing that would present a problem given his previous credentials. Only, the sellers disguised one critical fact—he’s crazy.


Jake Lindsey-Sullivan was once part of an exceptional Arabian training team. Under his mother’s guidance, he developed an instinctual talent, but she was the star, the cornerstone of his life. Until she met a premature death. Grief-stricken and plagued by guilt, Jake abandoned the world of horses. Now an over-the-road truck driver, he evades the memories.


When a snowstorm throws two Arabian professionals into close-quarters, they discover an engulfing passion. But will Mamoon rip open emotional scars, or forever seal them shut?


EXCERPT


In slow motion, he leaned forward. One thick palm framed the side of her face. His eyes searched hers, emotion flickering behind their sky blue depths. Sorrow, regret, and affection stared back at her as his thumb caressed her cheek. “Be safe, Gabrielle,” he whispered.


She closed her eyes against a storm of sorrow. Instinct filtered through her hope, and in the half-second of time that passed before his other hand came up to join the first, she knew. This wasn’t a temporary goodbye. Jake intended on driving away forever. A sob bubbled in the back of her throat, threatening to strangle her.


Before it tore free, Jake’s mouth settled against hers. He nudged her lips apart, inviting himself inside. Softly, slowly, he explored. Roused her awareness until the reality of his departure gave way to striking tenderness. She responded to the familiar feeling he awakened, her body tightening with an anxious surge of energy.


He held her in place, seemingly content to kiss her until time stood still. In the quiet, she caught the hard fall of his breath. Beneath her fingertips, his heart hammered fierce. His mouth took on a more demanding quality as he slid one hand into her hair and curled his fingers against her scalp.


A sound of pleasure vibrated in his throat, and Jake drew the kiss to a lingering close. He touched his forehead to hers, then sucked in a deep breath. “Win for me, sugar.”


Before she could gather her senses and respond, the passenger’s door slammed shut. Panic flooded her. He couldn’t walk away. That kiss alone said things she’d longed to hear. He cared for her. She loved him. He couldn’t just turn his back on all that.


Jamming her hand against the handle, she shoved open the door and jumped out. “Jake!”


~Claire


http://www.claireashgrove.com/

Rejection and Revenge

If you read the inside flap of my latest release, Kismet's Revenge, you'd see the book is dedicated to Bertrice Small with the caveat that the book wouldn't exist without her. Well, it's true. In a weird way.

Allow me to 'splain. My first attempt at writing a full-length historical novel, in its initial inception, was more than 800 pages long and packed with details totally unnecessary to the story. What did I know? I was completely new to the writing business, raw and totally on my own. Undaunted (or ignorant--take your pick), I sent a query off to an agent on a Monday morning. The agent in question had a direct link to my idol, Bertrice Small. By Thursday I had my first rejection: a postcard that gave me the usual apology for the impersonal reply but he had too many manuscripts and not enough time to send a personal rejection, yet after careful consideration, the story was not for him. And boy was I mad! Not that he rejected me. More that I knew there was no way that if he had too many manuscripts on his desk he could have read my 800 page tome and sent me a rejection postcard within four days. (I told you; I was ignorant.)

The good thing about anger (at least for me) is that it energizes me. Makes me want to prove someone wrong. I started doing research, found critique partners, found Romance Writers of America, and learned.

I still believed in my story, but knew it needed tremendous work if I ever wanted to see it in print. But with my resentment at that agent still bubbling, I decided to write a sequel to my 800 page story. Yes, even after 800 pages, I still had plenty of story to write. Since this was a story for revenge, I titled this new work, Kismet's Revenge.

And it's available now at The Wild Rose Press. So there you have it. What's that old saying? "Living well Getting the book published is the best revenge."

The Trouble with Tomboys PROMO

Since my first adult book, THE TROUBLE WITH TOMBOYS, released last week from The Wild Rose Press, I'm gonna have to gush about it today. Sorry.

To celebrate, I threw a countdown party on my blog last week. If you'd like to check that out, just click to http://lindakage.blogspot.com/2010/08/trouble-with-tomboys-countdown.html for a contest, deleted scene, character interview, and more.

If by chance you're interested, you can go HERE for purchasing information.

OR you can enter my contest now and try to win a free copy HERE.
(Contest Deadline : August 13, 2010 -- Winners Announced : August 27, 2010)

Here's a little about : The Trouble with Tomboys Contemporary Adult Romance* from The Wild Rose Press ISBN : 1-60154-790-0 Available : August 6, 2010 In Print and Ebook *Sexually Explicit Scenes and Language It takes pilot B.J. Gilmore to teach widower Grady Rawlings that loving 'tomboy-style' can heal his wounded heart.

And to wrap things up, here's an excerpt (that I haven't shared on this blog--or really anywhere--before). Hope you enjoy!!

“Can I taste you?”

B.J. honestly hadn’t thought the night could get any more erotic. She’d come hard and long and felt sure she was done till the next full moon. Someone stick a fork in her. But at his seemingly shy question, a pulse of pure desire beat its way up her thighs and fried the nerve endings in every erogenous zone on her body.

“Well, hell,” she said, opening for him. “If I’d a known you wanted to go down on me, I would’ve let you finish me off.”

He looked uncertain for a moment, then said, “I probably couldn’t have given you an orgasm anyway. I’ve never...you know, done this before.”

B.J.’s mouth dropped and then she shook her head. “Well, you cheap bastard,” she said and laughed outright. “I bet all the girls you’ve been with don’t miss you at all.”

He frowned slightly. “Amy would never let me,” he said defensively. “She thought the whole idea was…” He shrugged. “Dirty...unsanitary. She didn’t think she’d be able to kiss me again if I went anywhere near there.”

His words fell off as he glanced at that tempting spot on B.J. “So, what about the other women?” she couldn’t help but ask.

He sent her a strange frown. “Other women?”

The hairs on the back of B.J.’s neck spiked with apprehension. Needing to appease her own unease, she pressed, “You know, the other women you’ve been with.”

He shook his head. “I started dating Amy when I was fourteen,” he reminded her. “We never once broke up, and...well, you already know you’re the only one since she died.”

“Oh...my God,” B.J. murmured, feeling utterly dumbfounded. She sat up as if to escape the realization. This was not what she wanted to hear. “You’ve only been with two different women your entire life?”

(Don't worry, dear readers, B.J. breaks in our near-virgin hero just fine by the end of the story)

"Revenge" and a Full Plate

This past week, the second story in my Kismet series, Kismet's Revenge, was released in paperback from The Wild Rose Press. How did I celebrate this momentous occasion? By fighting with my computer's hard drive for a week, of course! Apparently, my trusty desktop--let's call her Della--had decided she'd taken about as much of my many documents, story lines, photos, and blurbs as she intended. In a nutshell, Della crapped out.

Ordinarily, this would be a bit of an inconvenince, but with my trip to RWA National in Orlando coming up next week (and all its obligatory paperwork: reservations, flights, transportation receipts, schedules, etc., carefully stored on Della's hard drive), inconvenience became apocalyptic drama. You see, in my local chapter, I not only serve as President, but I'm kinda the unofficial Control Freak in Charge. Which means, I not only had my information for National, but my chapter mates' stuff, and stuff for the chapter at large all stowed in Della's trusty megabytes.

I began treating Della with the usual disk maintenance. But defragmenting was impossible since I need a minimum of 15% free space to run that particular program. Current free space? 0%. Okay...deep breath...not a tragedy yet. I ran my virus software, malware, and crap cleaning software. After all that, current free space jumped from 0% to a whopping ...0%.

Yup. No change at all. Time to go into the Programs section and clean stuff out of there. I moved 138 files-- mostly WIPs and documents related to chapter business--from my desktop to my Yahoo group where I archive and store important info. (A side note: I highly recommend some kind of Yahoo group or Google storage thing for everyone. While I use Carbonite for storage of all my computer files, if Della should ever reach a DNR stage and I don't have the means to replace her immediately, I can access any of my important stuff from any computer anywhere with my Yahoo group. Best of all, it's free.) Okay...so 138 files deleted from hard drive and transferred to Yahoo group. Current free space...0%.

Hmmm...I'm sensing a pattern. Flipped my Auto Restore settings to 2-4, rather than the 15 it was set on as the factory standard. Current free space...2%. Yay! Progress. Back into other Program files to delete. In going through the actual C Drive, rather than the autopopulated list Della gives me in Add/Remove Programs, I found some files I hadn't used in eons. Old publishing files from programs that no longer exist for documents for an organization I'm no longer a part of. Still 2%. And we're only up to Tuesday of the week.

I removed--one at a time--the series of 4000 fonts I'd downloaded to Della when I was a newsletter editor. Kept only the basic. Up to 6%. On Thursday, I looked in my Music files and discovered something unusual. When I'd switched to a new I-touch from my loyal old MP3 player (which, after eight years of fantastic service, had gasped its last the week before), I had to transfer all my music from Windows Media Player to I-tunes. Approximately 500 albums, more than 3000 songs. (Yeah, I'm a music buff with extremely bizarre taste. I have everything from The Mills Brothers and Etta James to Lady Gaga and O.A.R.) But my I-tunes said I had more than 12,000 songs! Okay, I'm a music buff, not a crazy person. Opened my I-tunes to discover every song I'd transferred from WMP had replicated itself five times!

At this stage, I knew I was in serious trouble. So I broke down and bought Della a shiny new external hard drive, transferred all my music files over to that. Nothing else, just my music files. Current free space: 16%! Woo-hoo! We have lift-off! Finally defragmented, got in to my files for RWA National and quickly printed all the receipts, reservations, and handouts that I needed, tucked them into my annual "National" folder.

For the last 24 hours, I've been manually deleting the four extra copies of every song I transferred to I-tunes. The external hard drive is happy to help and Della, while weak, will hold out a little longer so I can shop around for her replacement and not buy something in the heat of panic.

So if anyone's been wondering where I've been this week, now you know. But I did manage to squeeze in an appointment with a tattoo artist. I'd take a picture of my new "pretty", but I'm afraid Della couldn't take the excitement. So if you'll be at RWA National and spot me there, ask and I'll be happy to show you my little masterpiece.

Welcome to My World!

As the newest member author of RBRU, I thought I'd use my inaugural post to play hostess. So come inside my cyber house and let's chat.

I'm a bipolar writer. Under the name, Gina Ardito, I write sweet, lighthearted contemporary romances. But my slightly darker/older alter ego, Katherine Brandon, writes epic historicals with a bit of a spicy bent--not erotic, mind you. Just no closed bedroom doors, like in Gina's stories. My worlds aren't too far apart so it's fairly easy to straddle them.

Katherine has three books releasing this year with The Wild Rose Press, all part of her Kismet series. Book I, Kismet's Angel, was released in May, Kismet's Revenge (Book II) will be released in August and the third book, Kismet's Salvation is due out in October.

Gina will have three books out, her Nobody series, with Avalon Books over the next eighteen months.

I'm also co-founder and president of Dunes & Dreams, the eastern Long Island chapter of Romance Writers of America®. In that role, I lead a group of about twenty very talented romance writers--half published, half unpublished. We host monthly meetings, online workshops, booksignings, and promote romance writing and reading. On a month to month basis, I'll oversee our meetings, assign chairpersons to different activities like contests and conferences, and act as a liaison between our members and the national organization, as well as our members and the public.

I'm a coffee addict (big surprise!) and my favorite invention of the last few years is the Keurig coffee system, which allows me to brew one perfect cup of coffee whenever I want it.

For today, I'm going to introduce you to Katherine Brandon's first historical novel, Kismet's Angel, which is available now from The Wild Rose Press. I hope you'll enjoy this peek into my work!

Prologue

In a glistening castle spun from vapor and dreams, Kismet, the goddess of fate, sits upon her celestial throne. While she awaits word from her handmaidens, her fingers drum the armrest, scattering astral dust into perfumed air.

At last the dark-haired Rosamond, mistress of the virtuous, flutters into the chamber and makes her obeisance. “She has arrived, Peerless One,” her melodic voice sings. “Nearly a month too soon.”

“Nevertheless,” Kismet replies, a gentle chastisement, “she is welcome.”

Rising in the mauve sky, the goddess transmutes to pour as incandescent gold into the viewing room. While a cluster of lovely women watches, the light grows denser until the goddess returns to her opaque form. “Where is she, Rosamond?”

“Hyderabad, India, Peerless One. On earth, the year is 1793.”

From her special aperture, Kismet searches the blue planet, but discerns nothing save darkness and rain. A wave of her hand sends a flash of lightning to hurtle downward, illuminating the earthen sky and a ramshackle cottage’s occupant…

****

Summer lightning speared the gloomy room, startling Ahmed Manu from his chair. He trudged to the window and lifted a trembling hand to the ragged curtain. Nothing stirred but the banyan trees, shuddering beneath the wind’s fury, weeping in grief.

I will not cry. He dropped the curtain. I will not cry.

What would become of him now? Only Kismet knew what the Nizam would do when he learned of his favorite child’s death. The hairs on the back of Ahmed’s neck prickled at the imagined cold steel of a royal executioner’s axe.

Outside, thunder rumbled, combining with the low thud of approaching hooves.

Inhaling courage from the storm, he opened the scarred wooden door. The wind whipped, and the force knocked Ahmed against the wall. On the heels of the gusts, a man raced inside.

“Sarita!” The man removed his sodden cloak, tossing it on the chair before turning to Ahmed. “Where is she? Where is my wife? Is she well?”

Dropping his gaze to the rainwater pooling on the dirt floor, Ahmed choked out the dreadful words. “She—she is dead, Louis. And the child with her.”

“Dead?” The pain in Louis’s voice tore into him like talons. “No, she can’t be.”

I will not cry… “I-I’m sorry. The midwife did all she could. But the babe was too big. Sarita could take no more.”

“Our child,” Louis murmured. “Was it a son or a daughter?”

“The babe was a girl. She never took a breath. Now she sleeps in her mother’s arms for eternity.” Ahmed dared not look at Louis, couldn’t bear to see the agony his words inflicted. He’d made Sarita a promise—his very last service to his beloved princess. Despite the wrongness of it, he’d hold fast to his vow. “Your wife’s only thoughts were of you. She insisted you leave India before the Nizam learns of our tragedy.”

“I would see them first.” Louis strode toward the bedchamber. “I would say goodbye.”

Panic welled. Ahmed leaped to place his hands flat upon the man’s chest, halting any forward motion. “Sarita did not wish you to see her in death. As for the child, your loss will be easier to bear if you’ve never seen her. A faceless memory does not linger.”

As if voicing displeasure, the winds howled and rattled the door. Another stab of remorse pierced Ahmed’s heart. Why had Sarita heaped such a large burden upon him? How long could he keep his secret from Louis’s acute senses? In an effort at distraction, he reached for the sodden cloak still draped over the chair. Rainwater rolled off the garment and splashed onto his bare feet, the rhythm of tears.

I will not cry…

Pulling the grief-stricken man forward, he wrapped the cloak around him. “I’ve secured your passage onboard a merchantman, The Christman. She leaves on the morning tide for Batavia. From there, you must find your way home.”

“Home?” Louis’s dirt-streaked face clouded with grief. “I no longer have a home. Sarita was my home.”

Guilt sliced Ahmed in half. Before he broke and allowed the truth to escape, he led Louis out into the maelstrom. Hard rain pinged his cheeks as he helped Louis mount the saddled horse still standing in the midst of the deluge. “May Kismet smile upon you always, sir,” he shouted above the monsoon’s wind.

Slapping the beast on the rump, he sent horse and rider away. When their shadows disappeared in the dark and rain, he sloshed through ankle-deep mud to return to the house. Once the door closed on nature’s fury, he pressed his dripping head to the rough wood. The deed was done.

A mewling cry broke from the bedchamber. Ahmed hurried into the room, careful to avert his gaze from the lifeless body lying atop blood-soaked bedclothes. The cries grew louder when he lifted a swaddled bundle from a wooden cradle at the bedside.

He removed the blanket covering the child’s head and kissed the feathery hair. “Hush, my little princess,” he crooned, rubbing the infant’s back. “All will be well. Did I not promise your beautiful mother I’d take care of you? Uncle Ahmed is here. I’ll always be here. Don’t cry.”

Unbidden, the litany began again in his brain. I will not cry. I will not cry…

At last the babe quieted and snored against his neck. Only then did he allow the tears to slide down his cheeks. He cried until he was completely devoid of moisture as the storm clouds outside did the same.

He was twelve years old.

 
 

Research Humor

The other day I was chatting with a fellow author about the research we put into our books, and a rather funny story came to mind. As my day to blog approached, I thought I’d share this with all of you.

I’m pretty much a research fanatic. If it’s in a book of mine, no matter the genre, and it relates to history, you can almost bank it’s factual. To date, I think I’ve stretched factual truth once in a book. (That’s not to say I haven’t run free-reign with gaps in history or unverified fact.)

When I wrote Seduction’s Stakes, I’d never been to any of the places I used in the book. My experience with the east coast is one small part of Virginia and DC. So, as I looked for hotels that would suit my needs, I found the perfect one for Preakness Week – the Harbor Court Baltimore.

The web pictures were enough to give my creative side room to work with. They even had menus posted for their restaurants. But what I needed was a floor-plan to make my plot idea work. I had great fears that someone staying there would read the book and say “Hey, that’s not possible.”

So I emailed two persons, uncertain which one was the better contact, requesting some sort of floor plan or description, explained I was a romance author, and elaborated on my set up, in attempts to verify or disprove my mental picture. I specifically asked whether they had luxury suites that adjoined, or whether the corner suites were on top of each other, so they could be accessed by a back stair.

Two days passed, and both persons responded. I saw in my box a man’s name and a woman’s name, and cringed at seeing the man’s – I could picture him snickering. So I went for the lady’s response right off the bat.

I about fell out of my chair.

While she did send over a diagram, and the letter began in a very professional manner, evidently something cross-fired in her brain. The very last line of her letter was, “If your characters need any further information, they should book a stay with us.” What came after that, I don’t recall exactly, but it was a direct reference to a discrete rendezvous.

No, this woman wasn’t being facetious. She clearly believed I had fabricated some story and was making an inquiry for an affair.

To this day, I ask myself how many other people she might have indirectly insulted. Although admittedly, it’s more humorous to think how many people have claimed to be a romance writer just to conduct an affair.

On the other hand, the gentleman’s response was completely professional, more informative, and exceedingly polite. He got the thank you.

For a rather intimate view of the Harbor Court Baltimore, check out Seduction’s Stakes.

Never make a wager you can’t afford to lose...

A member of horse racing’s elite, Maddie McCleery’s got her eye on the Triple Crown and her heart set on her rival’s unraced colt. Owned by the one man she can’t conquer on the track, the same man who humiliated her in a youthful game of Truth or Dare, the colt promises sweet victory. When he refuses her purchase offer, and outruns her at the Kentucky Derby, Maddie sets out to seduce Riley into selling. In the process, she’s seduced, and agrees to a shocking bet. The odds aren’t in her favor, and she’s desperate for the win.

Riley Jennings wants Maddie almost more than the Triple Crown. In his bed, in his shower – wherever he can have her. For two years she’s eluded him and he’s refused her offer on his horse out of spite. Enraptured by her post-Derby game, he learns the lengths she’ll go to for his colt, and sees sure-fire victory. His proposed wager stacks the odds in his favor – if her horse wins the Preakness, he’ll accept her terms. If his horse comes in first, they’ll negotiate his way.

When the dust settles on the wire, will love claim final victory, or will unexpected tragedy stop them in the gates?

http://www.claireashgrove.com/

Yes, You're Stuck with me on the 12th

Hello! Linda Kage here. I guess I get to bore—I mean, ENTERTAIN—you all on the twelve of every month. So, I’ll just introduce myself this first post to give you some fair warning about what you can expect from me every thirty days or so.

I love to read all sorts of romance: contemporary, suspense, historical, paranormal…you get the picture, right? If it’s a romance, I’ll devour it. But so far, I’ve only written mainstream contemporary romance.

My first book, The Stillburrow Crush, was released this February from The Wild Rose Press. It’s a contemporary Young Adult story, and strangely enough, the only YA book I’ve finished to date. The other three books I have coming out are all adult romance—not erotic but definitely on the steamy side (Oh yeah!).

The Trouble with Tomboys will be released in August from The Wild Rose Press. It’ll be available in both ebook and print. Then in November Champagne Books will release my third book, Hot Commodity. Hot Commodity will also be available in ebook and eventually print. And my fourth book, Delinquent Daddy, is currently being edited by The Wild Rose Press. They’ll probably release it sometime in 2011 (just a guess).

If you’d like to read more about any of my stories, please feel free to visit my website at www.LindaKage.com. I just love visitors!

Now, if I were a smart person, like Molly Daniels/Kenzie Michaels and Marianne Stephens/April Ash, I would’ve gotten myself a split personality and had two different pen names: one for my YA story and one for my adult work…but nope, I’ve never been accused of being a genius. So, there’s just little ol' me.

But, I digress. So onto my personal life…

I live in Kansas with my husband, daughter, and our nine cuckoo clocks (though we only run one clock at a time because, honestly who wants to wind nine cuckoo clocks every morning and evening—though technically, you don’t wind a cuckoo clock; you pull a string. Sorry, I’m not up-to-date on the correct cuckoo terminology on how to re-energize a cuckoo clock!) Anyway...

This February was a HUGE month for me because not only did my first book come out, but my first baby was born too! I know, WOW, right?

Seriously can’t believe my little Lydia Marie is already two months old. Before I know it, she’ll be walking, talking, and moving off to college. My writing time has greatly decreased since she’s been alive, but stories keep swimming around in my head, so I’m sure I’ll continue to use what spare time I can find to keep up on writing…or reading. I really miss reading as much as I used to read before she came along. But it’s still worth it. She’s been a blessing, an exhausting blessing, but a blessing nonetheless.

So, that’s the basics about me. It was nice to meet you all, and I’ll see you again next Twelfth!