Home Invasions and Other Unrestrained Baboonery

In 2008 I traveled in South Africa, Botswana, Zimbabwe and Namibia. In that part of Africa, you can't help noticing the baboons everywhere. They are such wonderful caricatures of human behavior, I became fascinated with them.

Consequently, a baboon shows up as a secondary character in the last book of my romantic suspense series, which, hopefully will be released at the end of 2013.

BORN FREE

In South Africa and other parts of southern Africa, baboons and wart hogs run free like squirrels or coyotes do in most of the southwest US where there is suitable habitat.

 

Aren't they cute? Who could resist that smile? They're so human-like.

All of the five species of Baboons live in Africa and Arabia. The species vary in size and weight, but all of them have long, dog-like muzzles and powerful jaws, close-set eyes, thick fur except on muzzles, short tails, and protruding butts--well, what did I just say about being like humans?--that are callused, hairless and nerveless pads for sitting. And bright red.

Well, that's not so human…I hope.

They are ground-dwelling social animals who live and travel in structured troops of anywhere from five animals to two hundred and fifty, depending on species and circumstances. Fifty is about the average.

The characteristic sound baboons make is called a bark but it's more like "Wa-hooo." A baboon bark can be heard for miles. They also grunt, screech, and click to communicate.

In addition to vocalization, baboons have a consistent repertoire of facial expressions, postures, and gestures, all of which have meanings. Baring the canines, which are long and sharp, is the response to a threat. Gestures of submission are expected in return. If not, there will be a fight.

He's not so cute when he isn't smiling.

                       

In fact, baboons can detect from vocal exchanges between individuals what the dominance relationships are between the individuals. They tend to take more interest in disputes between families and authority challenges than other types of disagreements within the troop.

Who knew?

Although mostly herbivorous foragers (and not carnivores), they will eat just about anything including insects, fish, shellfish, rabbits, birds, vervet monkys and small antelopes. They can be active at irregular times during the day and night but generally "get up" around 7 or 8 am and spend time with the troop grooming their long hair while the "kids" play. Then they leave in columns to forage and return to their sleeping place about 6 pm and engage in more grooming.

A family consist of one male and a harem of three to five females and their young. The males dominate the females and will cuff them around if they stray too far, and the females are often cause for aggressive fights among the males.   Another point for human-like.

So much for the textbook description.

DON'T COUNT ON YOUR LOCKS

Did I say baboons are so human-like? Human juvenile delinquents, that is.

Baboons are smart, clever, and adaptable. They get into all kinds of mischief to the point of creating serious problems for tourists and authorities all over southern Africa, particularly South Africa. They can learn how to manipulate all kinds of locks, and they've also learned that it's easier to steal food than to hunt for it. Put those together and what do you get?

♦ Breaking and Entering

At our first stop at the Victoria Falls Safari Lodge, we had rooms with French doors that folded back against the wall so the room was completely open to the balcony. No screens. The view from the room was incredible and the weather pleasant, so most of the time we kept the doors open. Even the restaurant had no windows but was open to nature, including bugs (but that's another story).

The clerk at the registration desk warned us never to leave the room unless the doors to our balcony were closed and locked from the inside. Why? Because baboons will get in your room and plow through your things, looking for food.

While that didn't happen to me, another couple in our group were in their room when several baboons entered through the open doors. The woman ran out, and her husband chased the animals away, but not before they messed up the luggage and broke his expensive camera.

♦ Home Invasions

My friends in South Africa, Lana and Eric Smal, told me a baboon had invaded their house. When Lana got up in the morning, she found a baboon sitting on her kitchen counter eating out of her fruit bowl.

                    http://youtu.be/piFkShMwKrE                     

screen on the window of their extra bedroom and opened the window. It cost them a lot to replace all the locks in the house with baboon-proof devices.

♦ Trash Can Trashing

Driving from Cape Point to Hermanus, we came upon several baboons at the side of the road pillaging an overturned trash can. We stopped and, of course, I hopped out to take pictures. Because in South Africa they drive on the left, I was across the road and felt perfectly safe. My girlfriend screamed at me to get back in the car, and our driver just sat there and smiled.

The small baboon had a closed jar of peanut butter and was trying to open it, turning the cap just the way a human would. However, it was on tight. A much larger baboon, apparently the dominant male, tried to take the jar away. There was a fight, and they were all over the road. My traveling companion was still hollering at me to get inside the car. Finally, the big male wrested the jar away and tried to open it himself.

No luck. The cap wouldn't budge. He turned the jar upside down and gave the cap a light thump. 

No dice.

Finally, he held it up, seemed to consider the jar from all angles, then tapped the bottom on the asphalt road, broke off the bottom of the glass, and proceeded to scoop out the peanutbutter.

In South Africa, the parks and public places, have trash cans with baboon proof locks.

♦ Highway Robbery and Harassment of Tourists

Baboons also break into cars. In fact, they have even learned how to stop cars by sitting in the middle of the highway. Eventually, cars come along and stop. Several will entertain the tourists, while others sneak around and try to get into the cars.                                    

At Knowsley Safari Park, 2009, a troop baboons broke into the luggage compartment on top of a car and ripped apart clothes searching for food, although one did try on a hat. They'd been known to break side mirrors and windshield wipers but this was unprecedented. 

 

http://youtu.be/NUJwZZMYBcw 

Authorities in Cape Town report that baboons lie in wait at busy tourist locations and listen for the "tweet" of the locking system. If they don't hear it, when the people leave, the baboons open the car door and forage for food.

♦ Pick Pocketing, Purse Snatching, and Highway Robbery

This appears to be a case where the driver got out and was distracted while the baboon opened the door and took her purse.

♦ Baboons on the Golf Course

My friend Lana also told me that baboons are "very naughty." They love to roam the golf course and steel the golf balls. It looks like the baboon below stole a golf cart…at least the food inside it.

.                                                          http://youtu.be/NUJwZZMYBcw.  

 

RUN FOR YOUR LIFE

By now, you get the picture. Baboons are not sweet cuddly animals. They're not "out to get you" and can be perfectly fine neighbors if you understand them and take appropriate precautions. But don't feed or cross them. If you see a baboon raise his eyebrows, bare his teeth and shout "wa-hoo!", get the heck out of Dodge. You don't want to be close to those teeth.

THE CHARACTER IN MY NOVEL ALL FOR A BLAST OF HOT AIR

Meet Manny Balzac—Balzac for short. When my heroine falls out of a hot air balloon into the African bush, Balzac shows up with her lost cell phone, and they get acquainted.

                                           .        

Actually, Balzac is a Mandrill, which used to be referred to as a baboon but technically is a larger species. Mandrills are the largest of the monkeys and are shy and reclusive, but still social animals.

Excerpt

I hurled downward, screaming, snatching at the air as my cell phone careened into the trees, outdistancing me. Blood pounding in my ears, I crashed through the dense foliage. Thick branches flexed, broke my fall, and snapped back, bruising my bones as I bounced from one to the next.

Long, sharp thorns viciously slashed my skin with deep painful gouges. I tried to cover my face with my arms. Seedpods ripped at my hair and tangled in it.

At last, I came to a jarring halt wedged in the crotch of the tree trunk, chest down, backpack up, still on me. In agonizing pain, I hung there, stunned, a throbbing lump, until I could draw in a deep breath. Bits of broken branches, seedpods like earlobes, and the chittering of animals and birds drifted down around me.

Held tight in the V of the tree trunk, I was able to turn my head enough to see the Zulu Warrior still above the trees, moving away. Elizabeth and Chanya hugged the edge waving and screaming. Will's voice wafted on the breeze, swearing. "Goddammit, Peter, put this damn thing down. We have to go back."

A blast of the burners roared and the balloon rose higher.

"Wait…" I cried, sucking in dust and a bug. As I coughed, the balloon vanished from my line of sight. "Don't leave…me." Those last words, a mere whisper.

My throat clogged with tears of anger and frustration…and maybe because I hurt so much. I closed my eyes, too weak and strung out to do anything else.

Ssss!

The hiss close to my ear and an unpleasant odor sent a spike of adrenalin tingling along my nerves. Gagging and shuddering with revulsion, I opened my eyes…to an open maw full of sharp, yellow teeth and long incisors surrounded by a nimbus of grayish hair only inches from my face.

A blue and red nose surrounded by a thick mane. Close-set beady yellow eyes. Stinky monkey breath.

With a screech of alarm, I jerked backwards, the sudden motion wrenching my body out of the crotch of the tree. I tumbled, ass over teakettle, down the trunk, bumping and scraping my arms and legs along the rough bark.

I hit the ground with a resounding thud and remained there on my stomach, whimpering while the baboon peered down from the high branches grunting and hissing in triumph.

Above me, high in the distance the red, green, and black balloon drifted farther away. My heart pounded with fear as I watched it get smaller. Then, I dragged myself into a sitting position and struggled to free the backpack which had twisted around me in the fall. In my mind, I replayed what had happened, step by step.

I had been foolish to lean out of the basket. No question there. But as I thought about it, I reached the only possible conclusion.

Peter tipped me out of there on purpose. The realization left me breathless and without resources. Why would he do such a thing?

I blew out a long breath and fumbled in the backpack for my water bottle. I took a deep swig and swallowed my panic along with the tepid but refreshing water. Even if my cell phone, which had preceded me in reaching the ground, had died an early death in the fall, even if I couldn't find it, the internal GPS would continue to send its signal.

Whatever Peter's motive, before they'd gone far, Will would force him to land the balloon whether he wanted to or not. Will would come looking for me. Until then, I needed a somewhat safe place in the vicinity, out of the sun, where I could hang out for a while. Encouraged, I recapped the bottle and put it away.

A loud screech from nearby caused my breath to catch. My head came up with a jerk, and I shifted my gaze across the meadow. There, about fifty feet away, two dark-brown baboons tussled in the undergrowth, one small, one much larger. The small one screeched and clutched something in one hand, trying to fend off the other. The bulky aggressor smacked it in the head. With a cry, the small one skittered away, loping toward me with the large male in hot pursuit, both of them howling.

Holy poop! They're coming right at me.

Steeling myself to the pain, I scrambled to my hands and knees and levered myself to my feet. Baboons were nasty animals. After surviving my fall more or less in one piece—I wasn't sure about the number of pieces—I had no intention of ending up in the middle of a confrontation between two rabid monkeys. I'd already seen enough baboon to last me a lifetime.

Driven by fear and haste, I moved a step toward the tree with the intent of sheltering behind it. My shoe sank through the soft ground into an animal burrow. My ankle twisted. New pain spiraled up through my leg, and I sprawled flat on my face. Spitting out a mouthful of dirt, I pulled myself to my knees and crawled toward the tree, moaning as I dragged my backpack behind me across the bare ground.

As I reached the trunk, a flash of grayish-brown flew from the branches above, coming so close the rush of air brushed against my face, and I sniffed a nauseous gamey scent.

Startled, I threw my body against the tree trunk. The baboon with the blue and red nose landed on all fours in front of me and sprang at the two charging baboons, snarling ferociously through bared teeth. I held my breath and covered my ears as a dust cloud enveloped the fighting animals.

Calloused red butts waved in the air, spine-chilling howls like ghouls on steroids made me cringe. Tufts of hair flew. I half-expected to see blood and furry brown body parts scattering.

Then it was over.

The two brown baboons darted off in opposite directions, still emitting ugly barks, and the big male from the tree, with the red and blue nose, sauntered in my direction. A few yards in front of where I sat, he plopped down on his haunches in a sort of squatting position, exposing obscene male body parts.

I gagged and swallowed hard. Not because of the display in front of me. Oh, no, nothing like that. The male waved the prize he'd wrested from the others and actually flashed me a toothy grin.

In his human-like hand, he held my cell phone.

I collapsed against the rough trunk, moaning.  Why me? Why is nothing in my life normal?
□

Resources
http://science.jrank.org/pages/704/Baboons-Communication.html
http://stolenmangoes.blogspot.com/2011/02/counting-baboons-teeth.html
http://www.nytimes.com/2007/10/09/science/09babo.html?pagewanted=all&_r=0
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Baboon
http://animals.nationalgeographic.com/animals/mammals/baboon/
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2013/04/24/baboons-south-africa-invade-house_n_3148897.html
http://www.awf.org/wildlife-conservation/baboon
http://www.imfene.org/baboon-biology/dispersal-and-philopatry-in-baboons
http://www.imfene.org/remove-baboon-attractants
 http://www.outtoafrica.nl/animals/engbaboon.html
http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/video/2013/may/20/baboons-ransack-house-cape-town-video
http://animal.discovery.com/mammals/baboon-info.htm
http://animals.nationalgeographic.com/animals/mammals/mandrill/
http://www.outtoafrica.nl/animals/engbaboon.html
http://www.pbs.org/wnet/nature/episodes/murder-in-the-troop/communication-skills/vocal-communication/2995/

http://youtu.be/_0TcXkMf8VI
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=piFkShMwKrE
http://youtu.be/T6E6uK2QWQc

 

Your Perfect Kiss?

Okay, I know I’m a romance writer and I write about kissing all the time. But really, if you read any of my descriptions (like many romance authors) there are a lot of generalities in the description of kissing. But the one that I’ve been reading a lot is the … “wow, he was a wonderful kisser.”

Seriously? What the heck does that mean?

Nina’s confession #573 ... I’ve romantically kissed maybe 5 guys in my life.

The first one was in 5th grade when I was caught behind the trees on the playground chewing a piece of licorice while my heart-throb ate from the other end, Lady and the Tramp style. Of course we got sent to the principal’s office. The second happened about a year later when I stole a kiss while catching salamanders at the local fishing hole with a young man who said we were "dating". (I'm such a hussy!) My first French kiss happened with a young man from Canada. Yeah, the irony of that is not lost on me. ;)

Then there’s Mr. Nina.

We first kissed when I was 14 and well … we were both too young and inexperienced to know what we were doing. Thirty-some-odd years later our kissing has become another form of communication for us. Sweet and gentle ... "hope you had a good day" or "I missed you". Add in a little brush of the tongue and a nip of teeth and it becomes ... "hmmmm, there's no one else home" or "I've been thinking of you all day". Yep, our kisses say a lot. Sweet and gentle or flirty and seductive, nothing makes my day complete like a kiss from my true love.

There are sites on the internet dedicated to the art of kissing. You can find instructional tips on the Internet with advice on how to seduce your significant other–mostly for teens. There is even scientific research discussing whether kissing is a learned behavior or a natural response to attraction. But no matter how you look at it, kissing is an integral part of the dating game. Nothing shuts down a burgeoning relationship like a poorly executed kiss.

And I have no doubt kissing is a topic of discussion for both men and women. I mean there have got to be all kinds of kissing techniques ... and what we like in our partner's lip-lock, is no doubt, not the same for everyone. Right?

Mr. Nina is usually pretty understanding about my forays into research for my books. But even he wouldn’t take too kindly to a little personal research into different techniques men use for kissing. So that means I need to turn to you all! What makes a really good kisser? Soft lips? A gentle tongue? Oh, I really want to ask some graphic questions, but I already sense those snickers from all of you.

Just consider this scientific research for me. I’d really like to know what you consider a really nice kiss. It could be sweet or hot or just comforting. Tell me about it. I’m dying of curiosity.
 

Nina's latest release, A TOUCH OF LILLY, involves a whole lot of kissing, a murder or two, a nasty villain and two very sexy heroes looking to take a feisty heroine into custody. *wink wink*

 

BLURB

Ex-Chicago detective LILLY D’ANGELO has a secret she doesn’t share with anyone. A master of the one night stand, she’s given up ever finding a soul mate and thrown herself head first into her  

career. That is, until she captures the wrong alien. Kidnapped and sold into the sex slave trade, she’s shipped into deep space. Barely escaping with her life, Lilly now travels the galaxy working as a bounty hunter using her secret talents to bring down criminals and seeking revenge on the one male who ruined her life. 

Agent DALLAS SAWYER works for deep space’s version of the FBI. After a disastrous mission that left several of his team members murdered, a president executed, and Dallas near death, he’s determined to take down the assassin targeting government officials. When a sexy human female gets between him and his goal, Dallas and his alien partner find themselves on the receiving end of a passionate night they won’t soon forget and a proposition that may very well blow up in their faces.

 

Because in deep space … true love can happen with just a touch.

 

Welcome, Jennifer Blake!

Please welcome New York Times and international best-selling author Patricial Maxwell aka Jennifer Blake. A charter member of RWA, she’s the recipient of many awards including RWA’s Lifetime Achievement Award. With over sixty books translated into twenty languages and thirty million copies in print, she continues to evolve in this ever changing publishing landscape.

How does she do it? Read on…

P.B. What are your fondest memories of growing up in Louisiana?

J.B. I was brought up on a farm in the northern part of the state. It had vegetable gardens and pastureland, but most of it was woodland with a creek running through it. Roaming the animal trails with my faithful dog, picking wild berries, hiding out with a book at the very top of a tall pine tree—where my mom couldn’t find me to assign chores—were favorite times. My grandparents lived next door and were great storytellers; it was always special to spend the night with them. Another highlight was the annual family reunions where everyone enjoyed scrumptious covered dishes brought by friends and relatives, and visited back and forth until it was time to go home.   

P.B. Do you remember the moment that you decided to write your first book?

J.B. As with so many other authors, I once threw a book against the wall with the famous words, “Even I could do better than that!” But the catalyst for putting words on paper was a colorful and disturbing dream. In it, I was a young girl in ancient Scotland who had lost her family during wartime, and was being comforted by a kilted highlander. The scene was so vivid I didn’t want to forget it. Capturing it in words set me on my path to writing books – though the incident has never found its way into a story.

P.B. What do you remember most about the day that you received ‘the call informing you that an editor was buying your book?

J.B. It wasn’t a phone call for me, but a snail mail letter—Yes, I go back that far! I picked it up from our rural mailbox at the end of a long drive and immediately tore it open. I read it and smiled, and smiled and read it over and over again, all the way back to the house.

P.B. You’ve managed to produce an impressive body of work during your writing career. What would you consider your most satisfying achievement?

J.B. That I’ve met every writing goal I ever set for myself is a special pleasure. Remembering I’ve made the best seller lists in every book format—hardcover, trade size paperback, mass market paperback and e-book titles—is also gratifying. But most satisfying of all is contact from readers saying how my stories helped them escape from the disappointments, illnesses and tragedies in their lives.

P.B. What is the best career advice you have ever received? Have you ever received advice that you wished later that you hadn’t taken?

J.B. The best advice: “Write the book you’d like to read.” It’s absolutely true that writers who are voracious readers are often ahead of the game, seeing possibilities for different directions in genres or picking up on trends long before traditional publishing takes notice. Added to that, the book that intrigues you will probably intrigue readers as well.

The worst advice: “Forget historical romance; it’s as dead as the Dodo Bird.” This was in 1972 when I suggested writing a historical romance after reading Woodiwiss’s THE FLAME AND THE FLOWER. It took New York the better part of two years to understand this new type of historical romance was nothing like the male-oriented epics from the 1940s and 1950s. If I’d written that historical romance when I wanted, I’d have been much further ahead than it turned out after I was asked to do my first sensual historical romance in 1975.

P.B. If you were to offer any advice to a romance novelist at the beginning of their career, what would you want them to realize?

J.B. It’s self-defeating to chase genres and trends for the money; write in them only if they fire your imagination. Create the story that won’t let you sleep at night and feeds you bits of scenes and dialogue all day long. The enthusiasm you bring to that book will be transferred to the reader, creating excitement in them as well.

P.B. If you had to choose among all of your books, could you pick a favorite?

J.B. I actually have a half dozen favorites out of the 67 I’ve written. Different books are special for different reasons: a character or theme; the difficulty of the story situation, the intriguing format, where I was in my life at the time, and so on. The most fascinating was ROYAL SEDUCTION: I never knew what my Ruthenian prince was going to say or do next. Then a paragraph from that book managed to capture my basic attitude toward being alive: “Spiteful and mean the world might be, with greed and malice and ugly death both in town and wilderness. But there were in the dusty march of days flashes of brilliance, sweet moments gilded with glory, snatched splendid and whole from the dreary parade.”   

P.B. You write both historical and contemporary romances. Do you have a preference?

J.B. Historical romances lend themselves more easily to grand drama and sweeping romantic gestures. You don’t have to worry about keeping up with current slang or using technology that may become obsolete and, if you build your historical world carefully enough, it’s like going back in time and taking readers with you. Contemporary romances allow the writer to “lighten up,” to be freer with attitudes and incidents, and to stop worrying about whether some word or phrase was current in your book’s time period. My best case scenario would be alternate between the two. If I could only write one, however, I’d probably choose historical romance.

P.B. What do you think have been the most significant changes in both genres since you began your career?

J.B. The addition of sensuality with graphic love scenes would be the foremost change, of course. When I sold my first book (THE SECRET OF MIRROR HOUSE, a mystery-suspense published in 1970) the bedroom door was firmly closed. Now it’s wide open with all the sex toys on display.

Both historical and contemporary romances decreased in length from their 120,000 – 150, 000 word maximums. This cut resulted in less meaty stories with lighter character development and generally less intense emotional involvement.

Historical romances were once accurate depictions of their time periods. Some still are, but the current trend is toward stories with characters in long skirts and tailcoats written by authors who either can’t be bothered to research or else ignore past social constraints for the sake of “feisty” heroines and erotic scenes.

Contemporary romances have gone from every heroine being kind and beautiful to every heroine being angst-ridden and less than ideal to look at. Oddly enough, the heroes are still OMG handsome.

I could go on and on.

P.B. In regard to the writing profession, what would you say has changed the most since you were first published? Stayed the same?

J.B. The explosion of the romance genre from a few titles sold each month on drugstore and supermarket racks to a multi-billion dollar industry has taken place on my watch. The opportunity it has provided for female authors to earn a living with their writing is beyond price. But the greatest change has been the advent of e-readers and upsurge in e-books, with the resulting obliteration of the self-publication stigma. This phenomenon is restructuring the publishing industry, and no one knows where it will end.

The thing that has stayed the same is the power of a good story well told.

P.B. You have a few older titles being re-issued from the Sourcebooks Casablanca line but I noticed that your newest Italian Billionaires series is available through the Steel Magnolia Press. Could you tell us a little bit about both ventures?

J.B. For Sourcebooks: I was approached at a writer’s conference with a query about reissuing some of my backlist books through Sourcebooks. At the time, I had 37 titles for which the rights had reverted from their original publishers. These books were all with E-Reads, Inc. where they had been available as e-books and POD (print on demand) copies since 1999 - 2000. Agreement was reached with E-Reads, and four books were chosen for the Sourcebooks program: ROYAL SEDUCTION, MIDNIGHT WALTZ, SILVER-TONGUED DEVIL, and FIERCE EDEN. The great team at Sourcebooks brought these books out with gorgeous new covers. Though the first title was a mass market paperback, the others were placed in the Casablanca Classics line of trade size editions. It was great fun being associated with Domonique Raccah and Deb Werksman. I’ll never forget my visit with them at their amazing office in Chicago.

For Steel Magnolia Press: I’ve been fascinated by the possibilities in e-books from the beginning, as witness my participation in Richard Curtis’s E-Reads pilot program over 13 years ago. In 2011, I connected with a niece who had independently published a book on Amazon as Phoenix Sullivan and was deeply involved in mapping the data and algorithms used to increase sales in that venue. At the time, I was sitting on reverted rights to several novellas that I’d written over the years, plus I had another niece who had published online and two daughters who were interested in writing romance. Following intense discussion, Phoenix and I established a family-oriented online publishing imprint that she named Steel Magnolia Press after a label given to me years ago. My novellas were formatted for Amazon with fresh new covers and posted as e-books in the fall of 2011. The results from this experiment were amazing.

Then two important events took place in 2012. The first was an attempt by my traditional publisher to make a major cut in my advances. As a result, I refused a new contract and withdrew the 3-book proposal I’d created for them. The second was discovering that the contract covering a large portion of my backlist books with E-Reads had lapsed. The result was a perfect storm-type opportunity to publish both my backlist and ongoing original work under the Steel Magnolia Press imprint.

SMP created fresh and vastly improved covers for my e-books,  covers that were then applied to their new audio versions from Audible.com. Box sets were created for titles that shared locations or had related characters. The titles began to go up in mid-2012, at a rate of three or four per month. At present nearly 50 of my titles are available from SMP, as well as titles from my daughter and two of my nieces. Included in these, as you noted, is my new and original Italian Billionaires series with two books out so far, THE TUSCAN’S REVENGE WEDDING and THE VENETIAN’S DARING SEDUCTION. More recently, SMP has expanded to include two other bestselling authors, Christina Skye and Lynette Vinet, as “Steel Magnolias.” Two titles each were posted for these authors in June 2013. Two more per month will be released through early 2014.

SMP has been an intense learning experience, one I never would have undertaken without the expertise of our director Phoenix Sullivan. But it has also been the most fun I’ve had in publishing in years!

P.B. On a more personal note, how do you like to spend your time when you aren’t writing?

J.B. I love to travel and seldom miss an opportunity. My last major trip was a European cruise with my two daughters and eight of my 11 grandchildren, and my next will be a cruise around the world in 2014. Beyond that, I enjoy knitting, crocheting, quilting, beading and painting with watercolors. But the thing I enjoy most is spending time with family.

P.B. Where can we find current information about new releases and upcoming books?

J.B. The Steel Magnolia Press web site has all my titles with clickable links to Amazon for purchase. To learn about special sales and new releases, please sign up for our monthly SMP newsletter there. My Jennifer Blake web site has my bio, book list and a bazillion other bits of information under the Q&A link. Beyond this, I have an Amazon Author page with book links. Finally, I’m on the major social media sites, and enjoy connecting with people there. FMI:

http://www.steelmagnoliapress.com

http://www.jenniferblake.com

https://twitter.com/JenniferBlake01

https://www.facebook.com/jennifer.blake.3914

http://tinyurl.com/JenniferBlake/Author/Page

http://pinterest.com/jblakeauthor/

Jennifer has been kind enough to leave us with an excerpt from her latest release from Steel Magnolia Press. Thank you, Jennifer!

Excerpt

The Venetian’s Daring Seduction

by

Jennifer Blake

“Hello there, you handsome devil.”

Celina Steadman murmured that greeting to the Venetian gentlemen before her as she leaned in mere inches from his face. He really was a bold figure, the very image of most women’s romantic fantasies.

His features were classic, with a wide brow, straight nose, square, almost pugnacious jaw, and high, aristocratic cheekbones. His brows were slashes of black and his lashes thick and curling at the tips, a perfect screen for his thoughts. One corner of his sensuously molded lips seemed about to lift in some secret amusement. A wicked gleam lay in the blackness of his eyes. Their darkness was relieved, however, by golden rays in the irises that echoed the intricate gold braid on his velvet coat.

The wide shoulders of this gorgeous hunk of manhood were cloaked in black silk. A mask dangled from his fingers, one made of gold-painted papier-mâché with a beak-like nose in the style made famous by the great Casanova. Behind him lay the Grand Canal in all its past non-motorized glory, reflecting an aqua blue sky, the softly colored façades and red-tiled roofs of the palazzo which lined it. Conte Lucca di Palladino was perfection against that exotic backdrop. He stared out from it with confidence that bordered on arrogance, supremely certain of his place in that rarified world.

Celina heaved a heartfelt sigh. They didn’t make men like him anymore, at least not in her experience. Such a pity.

Bracing against the top of the tall stepladder she was using, she touched the cool, painted canvas of the life-size portrait. She ran a gently questing fingertip along the conte’s firm jaw line, caressed the sensual line of his lower lip.

“What a favorite you must have been with the ladies,” she told the long-dead Venetian nobleman in wry appreciation. “I’ll bet you gave old Casanova a run for his money.”

“That is a bet you would lose.”

The correction, deep-voiced, faintly accented and none too friendly, came from directly below her.

Celina startled so violently that the ancient ladder wobbled beneath her. She stretched a hand toward the portrait for balance but snatched it back for fear of damaging it. Grabbing at the top step in front of her instead, she clung to it while her heart lurched back and forth in her chest.

“Careful!”

The man below reached up to catch her ankle in a firm grip. A spark like the impact of a Taser surged up her leg. It flared in her lower body and swept onward to jar her brain with the force of a lightning strike. She was still an instant before twisting carefully at the waist to look down.

It was as if the Venetian gentleman in the portrait had come to life. He stared up with a frown of concern on his too-handsome face and one strong hand steadying her stepladder while the other curled firmly around her ankle. Tall, wide of shoulder and with dark brown eyes lit by golden gleams, he was exactly the same.

This man was not in period dress, however, but wore a suit of such perfect fit it had undoubtedly been tailored to his measurements. Paired with it was a shirt so white it seemed to glow against his olive skin. His tie was a symphony of blues and greens, and his shoes were of softly gleaming leather of a quality found only in Italy.

His dark gaze met hers for a moment. Then it drifted leisurely over her, brushing her breasts, waist and hips to linger on the tanned length of her legs that were exposed by the short denim skirt she wore.

“The fact is,” he went on as if nothing had happened, ”the first Conte di Palladino was a devoted husband who married when he was twenty, gave his contessa nine children in fifteen years, and so mourned her death that he never married again, never looked at another woman.”

Celina barely heard him. If he chose to adjust his position beneath her, he might see more of her than she cared to expose. She jolted into movement, descending from her perch with more speed than grace.

“Per l’amor di Dio! He released her ankle, reaching to put a hand on her hip to halt her progress. “Do you want to break your neck?”

“I’ll be fine, thank you, if you’ll just step away.” She could feel his every fingertip through her clothing, five separate spots of branding heat. She was also far more aware than she wanted to be that she had come to a stop with her backside at the level of his face.

“You are quite certain?” He released her, but only moved to grip both sides of the ladder so she was enclosed by the cage of his arms. She could feel the heat of his body surrounding her, catch the delicious hints of expensive aftershave in combination with clean linen and warm male. An odd dizziness swept over, one that had little to do with her uncertain perch.

“Yes, of course. I was—you just startled me.” She twisted at the waist to look down at him again. He was close, so close.

“I don’t doubt it, as you seemed about to make off with one of my ancestors.”

“Yours?”

He inclined his head. “I am Lucca Palladino.”

Of course he was, and named for his ancestor, apparently. She might have known. “You’re Signor Palladino’s grandson, then.”

He frowned, perhaps at this proof that she had some acquaintance with his grandfather who owned the painting and the palazzo where it hung. “And who would you be? Other than a woman who holds conversations with men long dead?”

“The person hired by your grandfather to appraise his art collection. And I was neither holding a conversation with the conte nor stealing him. I was only—”

“Showing your approval, I believe. I’m sure he would have appreciated it.”

Oh, there—there—was the wicked glint of amusement the artist had caught so well. It was stunning in the flesh, a blatant invitation to share in the absurdity of life. It was also an unfair distraction when she was trying to hold on to her annoyance.

“Such a paragon of fidelity? Surely not.”

“He was faithful, not dead.” He tipped his head in consideration. “Well, not at the time anyway.”

With many thanks, again, for your interest,

Jennifer Blake

Interview of Author Paloma Beck

Today it's my pleasure to present an interview of romance author Paloma Beck.

Latest Book: Hold My Hand
Buy Link: http://www.amazon.com/Hold-My-Hand-ebook/dp/B00C2RDSSA/ref=tmm_kin_title_0?ie=UTF8&qid=1372170377&sr=1-1

BIO:
Paloma Beck is a Romance Author living a life of contradiction... she's a happily married carpooling mom writing erotic romance. It's almost naughty! Paloma writes in both the Contemporary and Paranormal realms, journaling the stories her characters tell her, and they are anything but PG. She dabbles in vampires, witches, menage, spanking and bdsm - all in her books, of course. Paloma believes a daily dose of espresso and a good book make any day better.

Q: What part of the book is the easiest for you to write? Why?
A: The beginning is the easiest for me because a story starts with the spark of an idea. I’m excited about the idea –often it’s a character who speaks to me- and the words tend to pour out without even having to think much about them.

Q: What part of the book is the hardest for you? Why?
A: I cringe when I have to write a scene with the main characters fighting. I know it’s necessary. Heck, I even know they’re going to make up. It’s a romance after all so there has to be a HEA but still, the emotion behind a conflict can rub at me.

Q: Who is your favorite character in your book and why?
A: I adore William. He’s the knight in shining armor and while readers don’t get to discover much about what shapes him in Aubrey’s book (Hold My Hand), they’ll be able to hear his side of the story in the next book, Touch My Heart, written from William’s POV.

Q: What hobby do you enjoy when not writing?
A: I have large English gardens in my yard. In Spring-Summer-Fall, I spend time in the garden especially while plotting a scene. Being in the fresh air surrounded by colorful flowers, scented herbs and the critters that fly about, helps open my mind if I hit a block.

Q: What genre would you like to try writing in but haven’t yet done so? Why?
A: Young Adult/ New Adult. I enjoy reading this genre, particularly the angst-filled moments where the characters are making pivotal decisions. The stories bring back memories of being young, of living life without apology and loving as if life will never end. Ah, young love.

Q: Facebook, MySpace, Blogs, Chats, or Twitter. Which do you like best and why?
A: A combination with linked accounts works best for me. I primarily use facebook and twitter, along with my blog, to interact with readers and other writers. Here are my links. I respond to every inquiry personally… stop in and let’s chat!

Tell us where to find you!
WEBSITE http://palomabeck.weebly.com
TUMBLR http://palomabeck.tumblr.com
BLOG http://romancebeckons.blogspot.com
TWITTER https://twitter.com/PalomaBeck
FACEBOOK http://www.facebook.com/PalomaBeckAuthor
FB PAGE https://www.facebook.com/HeartAndSoulSeries
PINTEREST http://www.pinterest.com/PalomaBeck
GOODREADS http://www.goodreads.com/PalomaBeck

BLURB:
Aubrey has been hurt in the past, discouraged and degraded by a heartless father. Still, William sees something in her that won't allow him to walk away. Instantly drawn to her but intuitive enough to take it slowly, he courts her. Then he bargains, persuades and seduces until he ensnares Aubrey with his commanding nature. He’s everything she ever needed but never had the courage to want for. Despite the fight she puts up in accepting William's lifestyle, the bonds he places on Aubrey give her a freedom she desperately needs. Together, they heal old wounds and find their perfect love.

EXCERPT:
When he seated me on the edge of the chair nearest the fireplace and began to stoke the embers of the fire, I kept my eyes cast down. He made me nervous, those same nerves I felt once living under my father’s roof. No, I reminded myself again, not those nerves exactly. William told me I was beautiful so I know it’s not the same. He was nothing like my father though that tension –the tiny feeling of inadequacy I couldn’t quite shake- was so similar; I shied away from his gaze. Yet at the same time I craved William, his presence completely overwhelmed me.

He moved behind me, seated himself with his legs on either side of my body and pulled me down to him. My back to his front. My heat to his heat. My body to his body. I shivered, wanting nothing more than to be what he wanted me to be. I assured myself my desire to please was different this time. I was already pleasing William. He told me as much and I believed him. After all, I had to believe in something.

His fingers on my shoulders distracted me. “You’re so tense, sweet Aubrey. Won’t you just relax in my arms tonight?”

“I’ll try. I don’t relax often.”

“No, Aubrey. Your answer to me is yes, sir.”

“Yes sir,” the whisper floated from my lips on a sigh. It was such a certain response, it left no room for me to fail or disappoint. I found comfort in the statement and relaxed into his body.

“Good. Well done.” His affirmation bolstered my confidence. I’ve not received many compliments that I can recall and it felt nice. I couldn’t help but smile while the pride at such a simple act made my chest feel tight.

William aligned his body against mine so that I could feel him as part of myself. Then I realized he could feel every inch of me against him. He could feel my imperfections. I tensed, wondering what he’d think of me when he got a closer look. I was no longer overweight but now I was slight and never held any real beauty. When he realized this, my time with him will most likely end.

He molded my shoulders and back with his strong fingers. “Relax into me and let me took care of you,” William tickled my neck with his words and a tiny shiver ran along my spine.

“I thought it would be the other way around.”

I felt his laugh against my neck. “You think too much. Time for thinking was over. Now simply trust in me to take care of you.”

His warmth enveloped me. I was caught in him, absolutely ensnared by all that he was.

Salander

For those of you who've read Stieg Larsson's "The Girl..." trilogy, you know who I'm talking about when I mention the name Salander.

For those of you who've never cracked one of these books - you really need to. This is especially true for women and writers.

My god, what stories these are. No, they're not perfect. Just go to Amazon and read the many negative one and two star reviews about there being too much detail about what the characters eat, the computers they use, the way the hero Blomkvist sleeps around (didn't bother me at all), and so many other (small) points that some readers didn't like.

That's not what these books are about. They're about men who hate women (which was the title of the first book before the publisher changed it to The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo).

Salander is a female character like none I've ever read. She's not beautiful, sexy or witty. She's a computer hacker, stunningly brilliant when it comes to mathematical formulas. More importantly, she's been a victim of men in power - a victim who refuses to be victimized. She does what many might call immoral things, yet she is the most moral character I've ever met.

The way she extricates herself from her sadistic and creepy guardian Bjurman in the first book The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo was awesome. I certainly didn't see it coming, and trust me, I've guessed the end of every Agatha Christie book and other murder mysteries/thrillers since I've started reading the genre. I honestly thought she was going to kill the slimeball. (Hell, I was having my own fantasies about that). Not Salander. She found the perfect punishment for the SOB. During that scene, I was pumping my fist in the air and shouting, "You go, girl!"

Blomkvist, a crusading financial journalist, isn't only her lover at times. More importantly, he's her friend in a world where she sorely needs one. This is a relationship I believe all women want with a man. Someone who listens to you, believes in you and will do all that he can to ensure your safety even though the rest of the world thinks you're weird and unattractive. Yeah, he's my kind of guy.

It's a damn shame Larsson died after writing these tales. His work speaks to me as a woman who wants to be treated fairly, to be understood (not dismissed/abused/exploited) and who is more than a means for a man to make himself feel important.

As a writer, I'm amazed at his intricate plotting, stunning cliffhangers and the connection between Salander and Blomkvist. I didn't want these stories to end...ever.

Do yourself a favor - read these books. Savor them. Mourn the loss of a very great writer.

Tina

Tina Donahue
“Heat with Heart”

DEEP WITHIN ME (June 25 - Samhain)
ILLICIT INTENT (5 FLAMES - MY READING OBSESSION)
ILLICIT DESIRE (4 STARS - ROMANTIC TIMES)
SENSUAL STRANGER (BOOK OF THE YEAR 2010)
DEEP, DARK, DELICIOUS (HOLT MEDALLION AWARD OF MERIT)

Website: http://www.tinadonahue.com/
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