Egyptian Heart by Kathryn Meyer Griffith

The Story of Egyptian Heart

A backstory and other tidbits from an old writer’s life

Eternal Press buy link:http://www.eternalpress.biz/book.php?isbn=9781615724437

Digital ISBN: 978-1-61572-443-7 * Print ISBN: 978-1-61572-444-4

You Tube Book Trailer: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cogCNYKzPqc

Let me start with this: I have always loved ancient Egyptian stories since I was a child. I remember I wrote one of my first school papers at around eleven years old in pencil on the ancient Egyptians after dragging home an armful of musty smelling books from the library. I don’t recall exactly why I loved this particular time period and the people that lived in it but it might have had something to do with the movies The Ten Commandments (I was raised a Catholic), the horror mummy movies of the 1960’s and the early TV shows on Nefertiti and Cleopatra. I just had this affinity for the period.

It was February 1994 (I noted it on the outside of the manila folder where I keep a running book history on each novel) when I began Egyptian Heart. Originally I called it The Cursed Scarab. Later, I retitled it Egyptian Heart because I wanted it to more reflect the romance tale it had become.

I still had my agent, Lori Perkins, who’d sold four earlier novels for me to Zebra Books (Vampire Blood, 1991; The Last Vampire, 1992; Witches, 1993 and The Calling, 1994…after I’d sold my first three novels on my own to Leisure Books: Evil Stalks the Night, 1984: The Heart of the Rose, 1985; Blood Forge,1989) and she’d told me about a new romantic horror line that Silhouette was starting called the Shadows Line.

They wanted to tap into the darker romantic paranormal market. Lori said they wanted the kind of story I wrote but with more romance. It was Silhouette after all. I’d been labeled as a horror writer from the get go, though all my novels blended genres; usually I wrote a romantic horror mixture with dashes of adventure, suspense and sometimes threw in a little history or mystery as well…but in those days the big publishers felt the need (and I think they still do) to squeeze a writer into one narrow slot.

So I was a horror writer.

But by 1994 I’d lost my sweet editor at Zebra and a new one took her place...and over the next year he didn't like anything I wrote for him and later that year Zebra unceremoniously dropped me and my latest book (Predator, a story about a dinosaur in Crater Lake…which never came out but still lingers like some weird ghost book in every computer on the global Internet) only six weeks away from going to the bookstore shelves.

I’d begged the new editor not to call it Predator, bad title since there was a popular movie out of that name and it was nothing about a dinosaur, and the cover was awful, an empty boat on a lake…what!!!

Having that book – my first ever – dumped like that was a crushing experience, let me tell you. I had a stack of finished, printed covers and had already done my final edits! I got to keep my advance but the book was officially dead.

The new editor-that-didn’t-like-my-writing explained: “No one wants to read a book about a dinosaur.” And six months later Jurassic Park came out! The book is still sitting in a drawer somewhere and perhaps one day I’ll resurrect and finish it as well).

At that point, my agent wanted me to branch out, so I wrote two manuscripts for the Silhouette Shadows Line or tried to.

 Egyptian Heart and Shadow Road (a romantic suspense about a woman truck driver driving a dangerous wintry route with a murderer on her tail, and a hitchhiker in her cab that she feels she’s falling in love with…and fears, at times, he’s the killer; which later I retitled and sold as Winter’s Journey).

To make a long story short, Silhouette Shadows turned both down. Seems I had too much horror in them; not enough sex. I didn’t follow the formula.

Sheesh. I’ve never liked depending too much on sex in any of my books or writing a book too predictable. The originality of the novel and the characters make the story for me.

After that my agent dropped me. Ah, the life of a writer.

So, then life (as it has many times in my 39 year writing career), family and job problems, and my other novels (I was into murder mysteries for years and sold two to Avalon Books), got in the way and Egyptian Heart and Shadow Road went into drawer hibernation until, oh, about 2004, when I rediscovered them, dug them out, rewrote them and began trying to sell them again. Sometimes, I’ve found, a book left alone in a dark cubbyhole ages like good wine. (Or sometimes it just turns to vinegar.)

Fast forward three years to 2007 and a new e-book (e-books still being considered a risky new-fangled craze at that time!) publisher called The Wild Rose Press contracted both and eventually a third called The Ice Bridge, a ghostly romantic murder mystery set on Mackinac Island, and published them.

Good publisher.

They treated me well. But in 2010 when I contracted my two newest novels, Before the End: A Time of Demons and The Woman in Crimson (both romantic horror) my new publisher, Kim Richards Gilchrist at Damnation Books wanted to bring out all my old out-of-print novels again (going back to those early Leisure Books from the 1980’s) in print – and e-books for the first time ever. Seven old paperbacks. I’d rewrite them all, get new covers and they’d all live again.

I was thrilled.

And grateful. It would take a lot of work on both our parts but when we were done ALL my old novels would be in print again and in electronic form out in the world. I jumped right in.

Then when my two year contract (I was lucky, e-books still being new, it was only for two years; now most e-book publishers contract for five years or longer) ran out with The Wild Rose Press. I happily switched Egyptian Heart, Winter’s Journey, The Ice Bridge and a novella Don’t Look Back, Agnes to Eternal Press (Damnation Books sister company). Kim Richards, and her husband William, had just brought Realms of Fantasy Magazine into the fold, as well.

So.

Egyptian Heart has had a very long history. Simply put, it’s a time travel paranormal romance set in the ancient times of Nefertiti and her heretic Pharaoh Akhenaton. It’s more romance than history, though I did a lot of research in 1994… originally for my 1994 Zebra horror paperback The Calling. I thought: why waste all this hard worked for research on just one novel? So I also used it for Egyptian Heart and an erotic short story, The Nameless One, one that Zebra had placed in their 1994 horror anthology Dark Seductions and now it’s available from Damnation Books.

The new cover for Egyptian Heart by Dawne Dominique is amazingly beautiful and Kim Richards herself was my editor. Thank you both.

So from a child’s love of ancient Egypt to the finished book, it’s been a long journey and goes to show all you writer’s out there that, yes, persistence does sometimes win out. And a good book never dies. It just ages like wine in a dark drawer.

I hope you’ll give Egyptian Heart a look and a read. The best way to describe it is through its blurb and so here it is:

Maggie Owen is a beautiful, spirited Egyptologist, but lonely. Even being in Egypt on a grant from the college she teaches at to search for an undiscovered necropolis she’s certain lies below the sands beyond the pyramids of Gizah doesn’t give her the happiness she’d hoped it would.

There’s always been and is something missing. Love.

Then her workmen uncover Ramose Nakh-Min’s ancient tomb and an amulet from his sarcophagus hurls her back to 1340 B.C – where she falls hopelessly in love with the man she was destined to be with, noble Ramose, who faithfully serves the heretic Pharaoh Akhenaton and his queen Nefertiti.

She’s fallen into perilous times with civil war threatening Egypt. She’s been mistaken for one of Ramose’s runaway slaves and with her light hair, jinn green eyes and fair skin she doesn’t fit in. Some say she’s magical and evil. Ramose’s favorite, Makere, tries to kill her.

The people, angry the Pharaoh has set his Queen aside and forced them to worship one god are rising up against him.

Maggie’s caught dangerously in the middle.

In the end, desperately in love, will she find a way to stay alive and with Ramose in ancient Egypt–and to make a difference in his world and history?

Because Maggie has finally found love. ***

And thank you for having me on your blog! Kathryn Meyer Griffith

Eternal Press buy link: http://www.eternalpress.biz/book.php?isbn=9781615724437
You Tube Video Link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cogCNYKzPqc

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A word about Kathryn Meyer Griffith, August 2011...

Since childhood I’ve always been an artist and worked as a graphic designer in the corporate world and for newspapers for twenty-three years before I quit to write full time. I began writing novels at 21 and have had fourteen (nine romantic horror, one historical romance and two mysteries) previous novels published from Zebra Books, Leisure Books, Avalon Books, The Wild Rose Press, Damnation Books and Eternal Press.

I’ve been married to Russell for thirty-three years; have a son, James, and two grandchildren, Joshua and Caitlyn, and I live in a small quaint town in Illinois called Columbia, which is right across the JB Bridge from St. Louis, Mo. We have two quirky cats, Sasha and Cleo, and the four of us live happily in an old house in the heart of town. Though I’ve been an artist, and a folk singer in my youth with my brother Jim, writing has always been my greatest passion, my butterfly stage, and I’ll probably write stories until the day I die.

Novels and short stories from Kathryn Meyer Griffith:
Evil Stalks the Night (Leisure, 1984; Damnation Books, July 2012)
The Heart of the Rose (Leisure, 1985; Eternal Press Author’s Revised Edition out Nov.7, 2010)
Blood Forge (Leisure, 1989; Damnation Books Author’s Revised Edition out February 2012)
Vampire Blood (Zebra, 1991; Damnation Books Author’s Revised Edition out July 2011)
The Last Vampire (Zebra, 1992; Damnation Books Author’s Revised Edition out October 2010)
Witches (Zebra, 1993; Damnation Books Author’s Revised Edition out April 2011)
The Nameless One (short story in 1993 Zebra Anthology Dark Seductions;
Damnation Books Author’s Revised Edition out February 2011)
The Calling (Zebra, 1994; Damnation Books Author’s Revised Edition out October 2011)
Scraps of Paper (Avalon Books Murder Mystery, 2003)
All Things Slip Away (Avalon Books Murder Mystery, 2006)
Egyptian Heart (The Wild Rose Press, 2007; Author’s Revised Edition out again from Eternal Press in August 2011)
Winter’s Journey (The Wild Rose Press, 2008; Author’s Revised Edition out again from Eternal Press in September 2011)
The Ice Bridge (The Wild Rose Press, 2008; Author’s Revised Edition out again from Eternal Press in November 2011)
Don’t Look Back, Agnes novella and bonus short story: In This House (2008; ghostly romantic short story out again from Eternal Press in January 2012)
BEFORE THE END: A Time of Demons (Out from Damnation Books June 2010)
The Woman in Crimson (Out from Damnation Books September 2010)

Her Websites:
http://www.myspace.com/kathrynmeyergriffith (to see all my book trailers with original music by my singer/songwriter brother JS Meyer)
http:// www.bebo.com/kathrynmeyerG
http://www.facebook.com/#!/profile.php?id=1019954486
http://www.authorsden.com/kathrynmeyergriffith
http://www.jacketflap.com/K.Griffith
http://www.shoutlife.com/kathrynmeyergriffith
http://www.goodreads.com/profile/kathrynmeyergriffith
http://romancewriterandreader.ning.com/profile/KathrynMeyerGriffith
http://romancebookjunction.ning.com/profile/kathrynmeyergriffith

E-mail me at rdgriff(at)htc.net I love to hear from my readers.

Elaine Cantrell in the Hot Seat

Hi, I have Elaine Cantrell in the Hot Seat.



Janice: Tell us about yourself?

Elaine: I’d be delighted to! I’m a Southern girl, born and raised in upstate South Carolina. I say ya’ll, which is always plural, and I like grits. I graduated from Clemson University with a BA in secondary education and went back for a Master’s degree in personnel services. I’m a member of Alpha Delta, Kappa, an international honorary sorority for women educators, Romance Writer’s of America, and EPIC Authors. My second novel A New Leaf was the 2003 winner of the Timeless Love Contest and was published by Oak Tree Books in 2004. I’m still teaching social studies at our local high school, and in my spare time, if there is any, I like to read, play with my grandchildren, and collect vintage Christmas ornaments. You can see my vintage collection in my Facebook photos at http://www.facebook.com/#!/profile.php?id=10000015304148

Janice: When did you start writing?

Elaine: LOL. That’s an interesting question. I started writing because of my son. He came home one day in late 2001and told me he had written a book. Who can describe the pleasure and pride in a mother’s heart at that moment? He told me he had always made up stories in his head to amuse himself, so he thought he might as well write them down. After I picked myself up off the floor, I told him that I had always done the same thing, so I sat myself down at my computer to see if I could write. I bet I stared at that blank screen for ten minutes before I remembered that I had a delete key, and if I didn’t like what I wrote I could start over. Since that time I’ve never looked back. I write now because it’s a compulsion. I’ve even been known to take my computer with me on vacation.

Janice: Who was the biggest influence on your writing?

Elaine: People who’ve read my books compare my style to Danielle Steele and Elizabeth Peters, but I started reading when I was just a little girl, and I’m sure all the authors I read as a child left their mark on me. Louisa May Alcott was one of my favorites, and I think I picked up some wisdom about life there. I was crazy about horses so I read Walter Farley’s Black Stallion books. From them I picked up some ideas for action/adventure plots. I also loved the Anne of Green Gables books. They’re so well done!

Janice: How do you go about your writing? Do your prefer pencils to pens or is it all straight computer work?

Elaine: Gotta have my computer. I have written things out by hand, but the minute I started typing on the computer I changed almost everything I had written. Maybe it’s the backspace key. That’s a really useful thing!

Janice: What influences you in your writing?

Elaine: Music, movies, reading, or straight research? I’d have to say that the biggest influence is probably reading. I’ve often read a book and started to wonder how things would have been different if the author had changed this or that. I once read a book on secret codes in World War II, and while I was taking a shower that evening I started to think about the code, and before you know I had the plot for a sequel to Return Engagement.

Janice: When do you write morning or evening, or are you a late into the wee hours of the morning person?

Elaine: My very best work is done in the morning before my mind gets stressed and cluttered with routine things. Ideas pop into my head with ease, but not so much so later on in the day.

Janice: Who in charge you or your muse?

Elaine: My Muse! I try to make her behave, but she won’t have any of it. She pushes me around and makes me change things all the time. She’s fickle too. At the times I need her the most she deserts me and leaves me to blunder around on my own.

Janice: Use only one word to describe your writing style? Or at least what you want your readers to take away from your writing.

Elaine: Thrilling is a good word to describe it. I want readers to be so thrilled with my work that they’re sorry they’ve finished the book. I want them to sigh and send me an email telling me to hurry up with the next book.

Janice: What other books have you written?

Elaine: Return Engagement
Genre: contemporary romance
Title: Return Engagement
Author: Elaine Cantrell
Publisher: Whiskey Creek Press
Buy Link: http://www.whiskeycreekpress.com/store/index.php?main_page=product_info&products_id=819
Author Website: www.elainecantrell.com
ISBN:978-1-60313-999-1
Format: print and ebook

A New Leaf
Genre: contemporary romance
Heat rating: PG13
Title: A New Leaf
Author: Elaine Cantrell
Publisher: Oak Tree Press
Buy link: http://www.oaktreebooks.com
Author website: http://www.elainecantrell.com
ISBN: 1-892343-36-3
Format: print and ebook

Grandfather’s Legacy
Genre: Contemporary romance
Heat Rating: PG13
Title: Grandfather’s Legacy
Author: Elaine Cantrell
Publisher: All Romance Books
Buy Link: due to the death of the publisher the book is only available from the author at elainecsc@aol.com
Author Website: http://www.elainecantrell.com
ISBN: 1-933548-02-9
Format: ebook PDF

Purple Heart
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Heat rating: G
Title Purple Heart
Author: Elaine Cantrell
Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
Buy Link: http://www.thewildrosepress.com/purple-heart-p-404.html
Author Web site: http://www.elainecantrell.com
ISBN: print 1-60154-133-3
Format: print and ebook-Adobe, MS Reader, Web Html

The Welcome Inn
Genre: Romantic suspense
Heat Rating: R
Title: The Welcome Inn
Author: Elaine Cantrell
Publisher: Wings ePress
Buy link: http://www.wingsepress.com/Bookstore/The%20Welcome%20Inn.htm
Author website: http://www.elainecantrell.com
ISBN: print ISBN 978-1-59705-776-9; ebook ISBN 978-1-59705-252-8
Book format: print and ebook-PDF, HTML, MSR, Mobipocket

Janice: What influenced your recent book, the one you are promoting here today?

Elaine: My latest release is Return Engagement, and the book was written to showcase my ideal hero. I noticed that most of my heroes had certain traits in common, so I compiled all of them and came up with Richard Lovinggood. Besides showcasing my ideal hero, Return Engagement explores the topic of ‘what if’. I bet there isn’t a person alive who hasn’t wondered how their life would be different if they had made different choices. In Return Engagement my characters fall in love when they’re both pretty young, but his father is a powerful senator who doesn’t think Elizabeth is good enough for his son. He breaks them up. Ten years later they meet by accident on a California beach, and man do the fireworks begin! Richard and Elizabeth won’t waste a second chance to find happiness. Here’s a blurb and excerpt from Return Engagement.



Blurb:

Elizabeth Lane has it all, but an actress isn’t the kind of woman Senator Henry Lovinggood wants for his son, Richard. Ten years ago he broke Richard and Elizabeth up, but this time Elizabeth’s fighting back, a decision that leads to kidnapping and attempted murder and alienates her from the man of her dreams.

Excerpt: In this excerpt, Richard and Elizabeth have just spend the night together. Richard is totally blissed out, but Elizabeth is conflicted to say the least because Alex, the man she’s thinking about, is her fiancé.

A trace of fear briefly contorted her face. He seems as
headstrong and stubborn today as he was ten years ago. Frankly, I
have no idea if I’ll be able to handle him or not. I wish we’d clarified
his position on my acting before we said I do.

When he held her and kissed her as he had done last
night, all doubts flew from her mind, but it was morning
now, and she had to start a new life, a life without Alex, the
man who’d supported her emotionally for three years now.
Searing pain stabbed her. Surely this betrayal said something
bad about her character!

Resolutely, she squared her shoulders. Today they’d
have that conversation Richard wanted. Today she’d make
him talk about what they should have talked about the night
before. Hopefully, they’d have similar expectations of marriage
which would minimize the conflicts between them.

She decided to shower and start breakfast for him. She
couldn’t help smiling as thoughts of Alex faded. She was acting
very much like a new bride who wanted to take care of
her man. She eased out of bed and took her robe from the
closet but paused before leaving the bedroom.

Yes, she’d acted impulsively and so had he, but she loved
him to distraction! The fates had given her a second chance to
get her heart’s desire; why worry about things that would
probably never be an issue anyway? They’d work things out.
We’ll have to because in the space of one evening I’ve found my missing
half.

She tossed her robe across a delicate gilded bench and
stared at herself in the full length mirror on the wall behind
the tub. He had held her naked body against his and plunged
himself inside her with an abandon that took her breath away!
She still didn’t see why he thought she was so beautiful. But
it’s enough that he does.



If you like the sound of Return Engagement, you can read the entire first chapter at http://www.whiskeycreekpress.com/store/index.php?main_page=product_info&products_id=819
You can also buy a copy at this address.

Elaine: Janice, thank you so much for having me.

Janice: Your very welcome. It was great having you here.

Author interview: Chynna Laird

Hi I have Author, Chynna T. Laird, on the Hot Seat

Janice: Tell us about yourself?

Chynna: Wow, let’s see…I’m a very busy mom of four children: three girls Jaimie (eight), Jordhan (six) and Sophie (two) and a beautiful little boy Xander (four). All of us live crowded together, along with my life partner Steve, in our tiny townhouse in Edmonton, Alberta (Canada).

When I’m not running around with my kiddos, I’m studying to complete my degree in psychology with a focus on special needs children and families.

Janice: Sounds like a lot of work. When did you start writing?

Chynna: I’ve always loved reading and books. Rumor has it that I started reading when I was two. My uncle was a distributor with Golden Books at that time so I used to get tons of his sample books and I eagerly devoured every one of them. I think that’s where my interest began in wanting to write stories like the ones I read.

Then in Grade Four a publisher came to our class to teach us all about the world of writing, editing and printing books. We even got to write our own books, with illustrations, and have them bound. My book was called, ‘The Tales of Super Bug’ a brave crime-fighting bug whose only fear was a size thirteen sneaker (sadly, that’s what caused his sudden demise).

Okay, so the cover was laminated construction paper and the ‘binding’ was staples but STILL! To me, that was the coolest thing in the world. After we’d ‘published’ our books, our class got to put them in the school library to be borrowed by fellow students. We were supposed to have taken them home at the end of the school year but I’d completely forgotten poor Super Bug on the last day of school.

Several years later, my younger sister came home from school waving a book she’d taken out of the library. She was SO excited to show me her book had MY name on it! It was SUPER BUG!! And there had been so many names listed inside of who’d taken it out over the years. That was my sign that writing was what I was meant to do.

Janice: That’s wonderful. What a thrill it must have been for you. Who was the biggest influence on your writing?

Chynna: I’d have to say my grandparents were my biggest influences. They believed so much in me and encouraged me to go as far as I could on whatever path I chose. I even named my writing business after them: Lily Wolf Words (Grandma’s name was Lillian and Grandpa’s was Wilfred.)

Janice: A very nice homage to your grandparents. How do you go about your writing? Do your prefer pencils to pens or is it all straight computer work?

Chynna: I do most of my work on the computer. It’s just a lot faster. But I do enjoy journaling. I have a notebook with me everywhere I go so I can jot down ideas for stories or articles wherever I am.

Janice: What influences you in your writing? Music, movies, reading, or straight research?

Chynna: Every day people and experience influence me the most in my writing. Especially those who have had to face tremendous adversity in their lives and show us how we can overcome the tough times thrown on our life’s journey. I’m also tremendously influenced and inspired by my children.

Two of my children, Jaimie and Xander, have special needs. They often struggle with the simple things the rest of us take for granted. They each inspire me every day as they teach me new ways of seeing the world, of doing things and learning about things. They are a wealth of writing ideas, let me tell you.

Janice: When do you write morning or evening, or are you a late into the wee hours of the morning person?

Chynna: I have to fit writing in around my children’s schedules (eg: picking up/taking them to school, homework, Jaimie and Xander’s sensory games and therapy, etc.). I have sprinklings of time throughout the day but I get most of my writing done in the evening after we (finally) get the kids in bed. I’m not really either a morning or night owl…I’m just a ‘Write until I’m so tired I’m not making sense anymore’ person. HA!

Janice: Who in charge you or your muse?

Chynna: Definitely my muse. I don’t seem to be able to shut the thoughts and ideas off! Hence the notebook. A good writer friend of mine told me she gets tons of story ideas and creates a separate folder for each as they come to her, complete with title and brief plot. She’s told me she has many, many folders to go back to! I’ve actually started doing the same thing as I go through notebooks like crazy!

Janice: Use only one word to describe your writing style? Or at least what you want your readers to take away from your writing.

Chynna: Emotionally-charged. (Is that two?) I’ve been told I elicit deep emotions from my writing. I often write about some tough issues in my work based on personal experiences. I’ve always thought this is the way to get people talking about these issues, especially those considered ‘taboo’ so we can learn about them, understand them and accept them.

Janice: What other books have you written?

Chynna: In addition to my YA book, ‘Blackbird Flies’, I’ve also authored an award-winning children’s book (I’m Not Weird, I Have SPD), two memoirs (the multi award-winning, Not Just Spirited: A Mom’s Sensational Journey With SPD and White Elephants), and an adult Suspense/Thriller (The Gift to be released late 2011).

Janice: What influenced your recent book, the one you are promoting here today?

Chynna: Payton, the main character in my book, is loosely based on a few experiences I’ve had, only he’s a lot younger than I was during those experiences and he made better choices. I grew up with a mother who lived with bipolar that she refused to acknowledge or treat and she died due to maladaptive ways she chose to cope with her issues. Blackbird Flies is my way of discussing issues like mental illness, peer pressure, drug abuse, etc. in a non-threatening sort of way. People seem to be more wiling to talk about and learn about these issues when presented in a ficitional sense…at least that’s what I’ve found.

I’d love to see these issues become less ‘taboo’ so those going through them will feel better about needing, and seeking, the help they need to live their lives more effectively. I always say, “Through knowledge comes understanding.” If we’re willing to take in the information and absorb the knowledge, the understanding will follow.

The most important part about this book is that Payton shows us that kids can go through tremendous adversity and still come out okay. All they need is a positive distraction just that one person who believes in them. Payton’s distraction was his music and his grandparents believed in him.

Every one of us has the power to fly. We just need to allow ourselves to be carried.

Buy link: http://www.astraeapress.com/#ecwid:category=662245&mode=product&product=3028835

Blurb: Fifteen year-old Payton MacGregor is a musical prodigy. To him, though, his music is merely a way for him to escape from the chaos that surrounds him. All of his life, he’s had to care for his mother, who copes with her bipolar disorder with booze instead of turning to her own musical talents. He refuses to become a statistic. Then he’s thrown a curve ball.

His mother suddenly dies, leaving him to be cared for by his aging grandparents. As much as they love him, they decide to send him halfway across Canada to live with his father, Liam—the man Payton always believed abandoned him and his mother. Payton isn’t making the relocation easy on anyone until he finds out he's going to attend the prestigious School of the Arts for musically gifted youth. Any second thoughts he has about his new life are erased when he meets Lily Joplin. Their connection is instantaneous.

Lily is a talented singer, but her struggles with drugs and bipolar disorder hit too close to home for Payton’s comfort. And when her issues become all-consuming, he wonders if his music will be enough to carry him through.

Excerpt: The following excerpt is taken from the part in the book where Payton begins to understand why he was really packed up and shipped off to Edmonton to live with his Dad—the man he’d believed had abandoned him as a child. This scene shows the anguish Payton is in and the love-hate emotions he carries around with him about his mother. It also shows his passion for his music—what he’s always turned to when times were toughest. We also feel his initial attraction to Lily, his romantic interest:

The Dean led Payton into the opera hall. “Your Dad told me you are a bit of a pianist.”

Payton resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “I guess you could say that.”

“Well, we haven’t moved the piano back to the music room yet since our recital last night,” the Dean said, nodding toward the stage. “Would you like to have a go?”

Payton’s gaze switched to the stage where a full black lacquered grand piano sat. Its lid opened towards him, exposing its gorgeous strings…beckoning him. It had been days since his fingers last caressed the keys of a piano. There was nothing that would have made him happier or given him more inner peace at that moment than to play his music.

He didn’t answer the dean . He just walked down the stairs to the stage. A spotlight still shone on the piano. It didn’t even matter to him that the leather seat was hot from the lights. He sat down, pushed the seat back to account for his long legs and positioned his hands over the keys. He closed his eyes.

He played Chopin’s Nocturne—one of his favorites. He’d learned it completely by ear, listening to his mother play it. She’d played the piece with such emotion, it pained his heart. He wished the music flowed half as beautifully from his own fingers as it had
through hers.

As a young boy, he liked lying under the piano bench while his Mom practiced. When she’d gotten really into her playing, the bench shook in time with her hands flying across the keyboard and her tiny feet pumping the pedals. Being only five feet tall, she’d often had to sit right on the edge of the piano seat so the pedals wouldn’t snap back up.

When Payton struck the last chord, the notes lingered high above the auditorium stage, echoing for several seconds. Then silence. Payton removed his glasses and wiped his eyes on his sleeve then heard…applause? It wasn’t just his dad and the dean.

He put his glasses back on and squinted, trying to block the glare from the lights with his hand. A small group of students had sat down in the first couple of rows while he’d been playing. He was embarrassed at first, but when he stood, the students rose, cheering, “Bravo! Awesome!”

He fidgeted for a few seconds then shot a peace sign and walked off the stage. Walking back up to where his dad and the dean stood, he saw that girl again…the one that looked like Alicia Silverstone. He got a closer look at her. Even in the dim light, he saw her face perfectly. Her hair was all one length and ebony. It draped around her shoulders, hugging her gorgeous oval-­shaped face. Her dark emerald eyes were highlighted with perfectly sculpted eyebrows and long eyelashes—the same darkness as her hair. Her creamy skin looked like the sun had never touched it. Her pink, plump lips stretched into a half-­smile when she noticed him staring at her. She gave him a thumbs-­up.

He just hoped his mouth wasn’t open.

“Son, that was incredible,” Dean Fenehey said. “You’ll definitely be an inspiration to other people here. And you can almost bet if you keep up your practicing you’ll get that
scholarship.”

Practicing? Scholarship? What the…?

E-book sales top paperbacks for first time

NEW YORK (CNNMoney) -- The publishing tide is shifting fast: E-book sales in February topped all other formats, including paperbacks and hardcovers, according to an industry report released this week.

E-book sales totaled $90.3 million in February, up 202% compared to the same month a year earlier, according to a study from the Association of American Publishers. That put e-books at No. 1 "among all categories of trade publishing" that month -- the first time e-books have beaten out traditional publishing formats.

Read more.

Interview with Kay Springsteen

I have Kay Springsteen author of Lifeline Echoes with me today.

Janice: Tell us about yourself?

Kay: I grew up in Michigan but transplanted to the south about 10 years ago and now reside in the shadow of the Blue Ridge Mountains in Virginia with my five small dogs and two bigger ones. Two of my four children live nearby, a married son who has a daughter of his own, and one of my twins. The other twin lives just outside of USMC Camp Lejeune in North Carolina. My oldest daughter still resides in Michigan. When I'm not writing, I transcribe and edit medical reports. Besides being an avid reader, my hobbies include photography, gardening, hiking and camping, and of course spending time with my terrific G-baby. I really am a firm believer in happily ever after endings and I believe there's one out there for everyone; it just may not be exactly what you expect or think you want.

Janice: When did you start writing?

Kay: I think from the time I could hold a pencil. I loved writing the essays for school and the book reports. I loved telling the classic back-to-school story of how I spend my summer vacation. I wrote stories off and on for years but I only began to seriously write while my kids were young, about 10 years ago. Then I put it on hold again, when I found myself a single mom. But last year I found myself living on my own, kids all out in the world, and unemployed from my medical transcription job. While I looked for a new job, I started writing. I was introduced to a wonderful friend, who became a writing mentor and a most awesome crit partner, mystery author J. Gunnar Grey. J. Gunnar is Mr. Han (Jackie Chan) to my Dre Parker (Jaden Smith) from the Karate Kid 2010. Everything I wrote before J. took me on as a crit partner was lacking. The embers of the stories were there but the flames, the ability to present them wasn't polished.

Janice: Who was the biggest influence on your writing?

Kay: Other than my crit partner, I would have to say my mom was a great influence because she got me interested in books and in reading, and she used to tell stories off the top of her head when I was small. My dad used to love everything I wrote, which of course encouraged me tremendously. In terms of authors, it was all things romance for a while, then on to science fiction, back to romance, into mystery. I was, and still am, a voracious reader. So there isn't one single influence.

Janice: It sounds like you have two very supportive parents. How do you go about your writing? Do your prefer pencils to pens or is it all straight computer work?

Kay: It's all about the computer. I type over 100 wpm, not quite as fast as I think but close, and someone who types for a living thinks in terms of letters instead of words. It's easier to work on the computer for me. I do carry a notebook to jot ideas when not near the computer, but the stories themselves pop out on the computer.

Janice: What influences you in your writing?

Kay: Music, movies, reading, or straight research? A combination of all these things. I make sound tracks for my stories and have certain theme songs for the characters and the moments. When writing the scenes, a song might be put on repeat on the MP3 player until the scene is finished. But movies and TV are a huge part of my life also, not for the story lines but because I watch the actions of the actors during various scenes, and as I'm watching them, I think in terms of how I would write the description. It helps me keep the action beats going in a story when, for instance, I pay attention to how two cops in a car all day chat back and forth, what they talk about not being nearly as important as their tiniest idiosyncratic actions that can be described. And as far as research, the nature of my day job is research, so that comes naturally to me. I like my stories to be as authentic as I can make them, so when I wrote a blind character, I researched all things to do with blindness. For Lifeline Echoes, it was things like rock climbing, or the things firefighters and dispatchers did 10 years ago. I talk to people, research on line, go to the library. Pretty much whatever it takes to learn enough to be comfortable in writing what I need to write.

Janice: When do you write morning or evening, or are you a late into the wee hours of the morning person?

Kay: My best stuff seems to come just before I start my job, so it often has to be put on hold for 6-7 hours. But when I stop working at 11 p.m., it's usually had time to steep and when I'm ready after work, it just spills out. I might write until 4 a.m. on those nights.

Janice: Who's in charge you or your muse?

Kay: It's a combination. I have an ability to write in my head and maintain the integrity of the story until I get to the computer. So if I'm on the road driving and the muse wants to work, we put on some music and go for it. Then when I can get to the computer, again, it all spills out.

Janice: That’s a very good talent to have. Use only one word to describe your writing style?

Kay: Descriptive. Or at least what you want your readers to take away from your writing. My vibe. That is, the vibration from the creative strings I'm plucking when I put words together.

Janice: What other books have you written?

Kay: My debut novel was a digital publication released March 1, 2011, called Heartsight, the story of a U.S. Marine who had been blinded in battle, and was more or less hiding out in his house on a secluded beach...until a divorced woman and her daughter with Down syndrome arrived and shook up his world.

Janice: That sounds like a wonderful story. What influenced your recent book, the one you are promoting here today?

Kay: Lifeline Echoes came about as the result of a challenge between myself and my crit partners. Originally, we were supposed to write a Harlequin-length novel - we were to choose a line from Harlequin and research the requirements. I thought perhaps a suspense. But I didn't have a clue what to write, and I was sitting at my desk with my MP3 player on wondering about it, when Garth Brooks came on, When You Come Back To Me Again (it's from the movie FrequencyI ). Basically, the song is about someone who's in trouble and he finds hope in knowing someone's out there who still believes in him. The chorus goes "On a prayer, in a song, I hear your voice and it keeps me hanging on..." That was my premise. A voice lifeline and falling in love with just the voice. It morphed a little from the original thought, since I was torn between a military theme and a firefighter theme. I considered using a September 11 story but really wanted this to be my own and didn't want to steal from the importance of that day. So I moved the story to the West Coast, created an earthquake, and stuck a firefighter under a building and a dispatcher in the office, who would try to give him the will to live until help could get there. As soon as I set that in place, the story took off on its own. I had the first 90K draft written in under three months, way more than a Harlequen but it didn't matter. My main crit partner told me it was a winner, with the right amount of tears, laughter, and suspense. And if you ever read any of J. Gunnar Grey's stuff, you'll understand why I found hearing those things very uplifting. My editor told me she stayed up all night reading my submission; she couldn't put it down. When people say those things, I know I've done something right.

Contest: I would love to give a free PDF copy of Lifeline Echoes to one of your commenters by drawing.

Buy link: http://www.astraeapress.com/#ecwid:category=662253&mode=product&product=3465733



Blurb:
Voices form a powerful connection. The day the earth rocked LA, Sandy Wheaton became a voice lifeline over the radio for trapped firefighter, "Mick." Less than twenty four hours later, she had fallen in love with him. Shattered when she learned that rescue came too late, she sought solace Wyoming, the home state he had loved. Now, seven years later, she's made a life there as the owner of a popular local bar. But her wounds are still fresh, and she longs to let go of the past and her lost love so she can begin living again. That opportunity presents itself when the local prodigal son returns home. The attraction between them is instant. It feels like she's known him far longer than just a few days.

Sixteen years ago, Ryan McGee left home in the midst of controversy. After living through a harrowing trauma, he finally returns home when his family needs his help through some troubling times. All he wants to do is make amends with those he hurt most and to get back to the life he'd never wanted to leave in the first place. When he meets the sexy bartender, he starts thinking in terms of forever. But there's still someone out there he wants to find, someone who once believed in him and gave him hope.

Excerpt:
The job was all that mattered now. Sandy made herself disregard the toppled shelves and scattered books. She blocked out all thoughts about the likely state of her own home. As she listened to the chatter on the official channels, she kept meticulous handwritten notes regarding the status of each unit checking in.

"Battalion 9 Alpha, this is Engine Squad 9-¬Bravo, do you copy?" The connection was filled with static and the voice was muffled, hard to hear.

Sandy waited for the response of the battalion chief on scene. None came.The callout was repeated, the voice sounding a bit more urgent.

"This is L.A. Engine Squad 9-Bravo, dispatched to the Convention Center—" Again static broke the transmission.Following protocol, after the second unanswered call, Sandy intervened. "Copy you, ES-9-Bravo. This is central dispatch. Your transmission is breaking up."

The response was drowned out by a loud burst of static in the earpiece.

"Nine-Bravo, be advised you're breaking up," she repeated.

More harsh squawks of static burst from the receiver. Sandy winced, feeling like her head might explode. Then, amid the static, she clearly heard the code every dispatcher dreaded.

"Nine-Bravo is 10-¬60, this location. Code three, code three, code three . . . trapped. . ."

The code for imminent danger!

Static filled the airwaves again as Sandy punched buttons on her console, frantically trying to boost the signal."Dispatch, are you there?" The voice was screaming. "Central! This is 9-¬Bravo in need of assist. The building's coming down around us!"

Afraid to switch over to relay, with the risk of losing contact altogether, she motioned to Ellen, the dispatcher sitting next to her.

Quickly, Sandy wrote on her notepad in bold black ink: UNIT IN TROUBLE.

At the next desk, Ellen nodded and switched channels to contact the Battalion 9 squad leader over the comm.

"Nine-Bravo, this is Central Dispatch," Sandy acknowledged. Only with great effort did she prevent her stomach-wrenching fear from leaking into her voice. Dread shot out little tentacles of hopelessness to curl around her lungs, squeezing the breath out of her. "I'm reading you, sending help your way. What's your location?"

"Civic Center parking garage—A level. The building's coming apart! We need extraction." The voice was still urgent but now without the panic.

She had to get her own panic under control and keep it that way, Sandy reminded herself, or she couldn't help anyone."Copy you, 9-¬Bravo. Who am I speaking with?"

"Mick-" More static, then, "Mic-key."

Sandy scribbled everything she could make out into her hand-¬written notes. "Mickey, you're breaking up very badly. How many do you number? How long have you been trapped?"`

"Two confirmed, dispatch, possibly three. I can feel my partner.He's not moving. I heard someone else moaning down here earlier. I don't know how long it's been. I think I've been unconscious—I'm pinned—can't move. It's dark—can't see a thing."

Sandy passed off the information to Ellen so her coworker could convey it to the battalion chief. The sarcastic part of Sandy's mind registered the irony of having crossed into the twenty-first century and being reduced to the mockery of a child's game of telephone.
With a pointed shake of her head, Ellen caught Sandy's eye and handed her a message from the battalion chief. As she read, Sandy's heart fluttered in her chest briefly before moving upward to stick in her throat.

Her free hand came up of its own volition to cover her mouth, as if to prevent herself from saying the words she was reading. Her stomach threatened to pitch up her breakfast.

The Convention Center had collapsed with several men inside.Some of them were buried under four floors of rubble, while above them, the fire from the gas main explosion burned fully involved and uncontained. Rescue efforts would be delayed and prospects for extraction were grim. A chaplain was en route.

God help them all! How could she tell someone he wasn't going to be rescued? What could she say to a man when her words were likely to be the last he'd ever hear?

Talk To Me by Cassandra Carr

BLURB:

Radio producer Jamie MacMahon is in over her head with ex-hockey player-turned host Drew Milan. She’s attracted to the man who earned the nickname “the Beast” during his playing days from the moment they meet, but he’s her boss and she loves her new job. She’s made plenty of mistakes with men and loathes the thought of being yet another plaything for Drew, a man who sleeps with women but doesn’t date them.  

Drew doesn’t want to lose a great producer and knows Jamie deserves a real relationship, but can’t stay away from the sizzling chemistry they create every time they’re together. Jamie’s insecurities and the very real prospect of having to leave a great job if this thing doesn’t work out, coupled with Drew’s fears about opening his heart and the possibility of losing his first competent producer clash.


EXCERPT:

By the time the show ended and Jamie thought about how long it would take her to shut everything down for the night, then hustle herself off to the subway station and take the three different trains to get to her apartment all the way out in Brooklyn, she was truly afraid she would self-combust.

Drew ran out of the place like a bomb scare had been called in, so at least she didn’t have to worry about him anymore. Nonetheless, Jamie waited a good ten minutes past when she was finished with her nightly duties, then made her way back to the small production room where she and Drew had recorded his promo earlier. She knew a copy of it would still be stored on the computer in the room, and after scooting in and shutting the door, she booted it up. She told herself she needed to check it one more time before giving it to the station manager tomorrow, but who was she kidding? She needed to hear him but in a safe environment. Where she couldn’t do anything stupid. She needed his voice to weave inside her, through her, like a drug.

The rough yet strangely melodic sounds of Drew’s voice drifted over Jamie as she leaned back in her chair. Closing her eyes, she pictured his face in her mind -- his to-die-for lips traveling down the length of her body, just as her hand was doing at the moment; his navy blue eyes, focused only on her as he brought her to orgasm… She reached the button of her jeans and eased them open, propping her feet up on the desk.

She couldn’t believe she was doing this at work, but no one was around, and if she didn’t do something to assuage this ache, she was likely to jump him the next time she saw him. Bad idea. Bad, bad idea. Fantasizing about the man was one thing; straddling his powerful, muscular thighs in the studio chair and offering herself to him was another. That thought brought another rush of heat to her pussy, and she moaned. She needed serious help.

At first she just teased herself a little, rubbing outside her panties, but it soon became too much. She needed relief too badly to continue to torment herself. As Drew’s voice continued to assail her from all directions in the small, windowless room, she pushed her hand down inside the waistband of her panties and through her curls until she found the damp center of her sex. The sweet smell of her musk wafted up to tickle her nose, arousing her even more.

Twirling her fingers as much as the constricting position allowed her to, she imagined they were Drew’s tongue instead. She let out a plaintive moan as the picture caused her juices to flow even more, soaking her fingers. Plunging two of them into her pussy, she pressed her thumb on her clit, craving the direct stimulation. Jamie gasped as shock waves of pleasure shot from her pussy through her clit and up her spine, her back arching. And through it all, Drew’s voice urged her to new heights.

BIO:

Cassandra Carr lives in Western New York with her husband, Inspiration, and her daughter, Too Cute for Words. When not writing she enjoys watching hockey and hanging out on Twitter. Her debut novel, Talk to Me, was released by Loose Id on March 22, 2011. For more information about Cassandra, check out her website at http://www.booksbycassandracarr.com, "like" her Facebook fan page athttp://www.facebook.com/AuthorCassandraCarr or follow her on Twitter at http://www.twitter.com/Cassandra_Carr.

BUY LINK:
http://www.loose-id.com/Talk-to-Me.aspx

Amanda Racette Twentyfive
writing as Cassandra Carr

Talk to Me, out now from Loose Id!
Uniform Behaviour, out now from Andrews UK!

Writer website: http://www.booksbycassandracarr.com
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/AuthorCassandraCarr
Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/cassandra_carr
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/CassandraCarr
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Cassandra-Carr

Tess MacKall Twelve Days of Love

A friend of mine's new release.
Meet Tess MacKall and read about her new release: Twelve Days of Love
It sounds like a wonderful, cute, fun read.

Title: Twelve Days of Love
Author: Tess MacKall
Publisher: Ellora's Cave Publishing
ISBN: 9781419931017
MSRP/List Price: $10.40
Our Cover Price: $5.20
Buy Link: http://www.jasminejade.com/p-9071-twelve-days-of-love.aspx

BLURB:
Eden Riley left her high school geek days far behind. Or so she thought. But when she returns to her hometown and comes face to face with the local heartthrob, sparks ignite like a chemistry set on crack. Super-smooth Nick Lancaster sets her nerves jangling and thrusts her libido into overdrive. But can the former geeky girl overcome her insecurities and jump his sexy bones?

Nothing suits former jock and debate team star Nick more than sparring with the one-time nerd. He’s just itching to get up close and personal with her high-velocity curves and tangle with her on the nearest bed.

With Valentine’s Day fast approaching, all bets are off when Cupid draws back his bow and Nick has only twelve days to convince Eden she belongs with him, in his heart and in his bed.

EXCERPT:

Jingling bells mounted above the flower shop door alerted Eden that a customer had entered the store. She pushed the stem of a pink sweetheart rose into the small wedding bouquet she had just started and wiped her hands on her green wraparound smock. As she turned, she caught a man’s reflection in the glass doors of the refrigerated case.

She couldn’t help but pause and stare. His tall, lean silhouette appeared to be standing there among all those leggy gladiolas and giant spider mums perched in their vases. He reached up to the service counter with one hand and touched the small African violet sitting near the edge. For a moment it looked as though he’d brushed his hand over the big snowy-white spider mum in the cooler.

Eden moaned slightly, his touch so obviously tender. Warm tendrils of longing tiptoed over her skin. She shuddered with the sensation, mentally chiding herself for giving him even a second thought, much less allowing him to affect her physically.

But Nick Lancaster had always worked his way under her skin, even in high school.

He was wet panties and get-naked-quick in one fine-looking package. Bottled sin. A walking aphrodisiac. And all that with just a “hello”. Why did she torture herself with this insane crush? She wasn’t exactly his type, was she? Eden patted her tummy to remind herself of the paunch that sometimes forced her to unbutton her jeans after she’d eaten. Yeah, it hadn’t disappeared, still there.

Nick tilted his head to the side as if to peek into the back of the shop where she stood watching, his mirrored reflection in the glass doors so damn lifelike she took a step back. An exaggerated sigh blew through the workroom’s open doorway, a sure-fire sign his patience had grown thin. He shoved his hands into his jeans pockets and glanced up at the ceiling.

Eden squared her shoulders, inhaled a deep, cleansing breath and stepped into the showroom. Both Nick’s eyebrows quirked when she appeared and he grinned. She nodded, smiled and planted herself on the opposite side of the counter. He looked too damn delicious today in his dark green Polo shirt and navy blazer. Why did he have to be so handsome?

“Hi, Nick. I might have known I’d be seeing you. The countdown has begun, hasn’t it?”

A distinct V formed between his brows, his grin fading into a frown. “Countdown?”

“Yeah, countdown.” Eden gestured toward the large, heart-shaped day calendar on the wall behind her.
Emblazoned in sparkling gold against the bright red background over the heart’s two humps were the words “Valentine’s Day Countdown”. The number twelve was displayed in bright red and centered inside a pale blue and white wisp of a cloud with Cupid sitting on top, his bow drawn.

Nick focused over her head. “Oh!” Then he frowned even harder. “Well, what was that crack about ’might have known I’d be seeing you’ all about?”

“Nothing. Forget it.”

He pursed his luscious lips and squinted his gorgeous green eyes. “You don’t like me very much, do you?”

“Where the hell did you get that idea?”

It never failed. Every time he came into the shop, they ended up arguing. She always managed to make some snarky comment, and of course, he picked up on it. They’d been at odds since their freshman year of high school. Both had joined the debate team and had never seen eye-to-eye on a single subject.

Slowly but surely they’d gravitated to different ends of the spectrum in popularity too, which hadn’t made things any easier. He, with his Adonis good looks and nothing-but-net shooting ability, naturally floated to the top; she, with her wide hips, pimply face, geeky glasses and penchant for all things artistic, sank to the bottom.

Now here they were, all these years later, no further from that high-school type of relationship than when they’d started. Except Nick had taken over his father’s string of Chevy dealerships and she had moved back home last year, forsaking her managerial position at an up-and-coming art gallery in New York to take over her ailing mother’s flower shop.

Times and situations changed but evidently people didn’t.

“If you don’t want me as a customer, Eden, why don’t you just say so?” He leaned forward, folding his arms over one another on the counter’s faux granite surface, watching her intently.

Lemon drops. He always smelled of lemon drops—and some expensive cologne she couldn’t remember the name of. God, she wanted to reach over and ruffle that thick, wavy black hair of his. Oh shit. Wet panties alert! He managed to do it to her every time without even trying.

And oh how she wished he would. Fat chance.

“I do want you as a customer,” she said succinctly, trying to put an end to the verbal scuffle.

“So? What was that crack all about?”

“Nothing. Just pointing out the countdown is all. I’m a florist. Valentine’s Day is important to me.” Actually, her remark had been a direct jibe regarding his frequent flower-buying miles. He constantly had arrangements delivered locally and wired over a three-state area with each card signed, “Yours, Nick”.

“Your mother is a florist. You’re a stand-in.” He grinned, wet his index finger with his tongue and painted the air with an imaginary mark. “Score one for me.”

Her mouth dropped open. She had a damned art degree in her back pocket. He, on the other hand, had dropped out of college after year two thanks to a bum knee and the fact he’d no longer be able to pump up his already over-inflated ego with the roar of the fans. How dare he call her a stand-in!

“I’ll have you know that I started working in this shop when I was twelve years old. Every day after school, weekends, all summer long too. I’m the one who made those sweet little corsages for all your high-school dance dates. So don’t say I’m not up to the job.”

He jabbed the rigid fingers of his left hand into his right palm—time out. “Chill, girl. Damn. You’re gonna pop a blood vessel one of these days.” He shook his head. “I was joking, messing with you. But I really meant that as soon as your mother was feeling better, you’re gonna be out of here and back to that fancy New York art career of yours.”

Did she detect a note of jealousy? Impossible. Nick Lancaster had it all. Well, except for his divorce, that is. Her mother had told her all about it right after Eden had taken over the shop. Nick had shown up on Eden’s third day to place an order and their customary enmity from high school had picked up right where it had left off.

Eden had related the entire scene to her mother at home that night and was shocked to learn that Nick and his wife, Jenna, had called it quits. He’d caught her dead-to-rights with her masseuse.

The vision of Jenna’s toothy white smile, platinum pony-tail and deep cleavage bouncing up and down right along with the whimsical sashay of blue-and-white pompoms rollicked in Eden’s mind. The cheerleader prom queen sure had screwed up her life. How the hell could she ever want anyone but Nick?

Eden tucked her fingernails into her palms and squeezed, jolting herself back to the present. Who was she to talk? Her judgment where love was concerned wasn’t so great either.

She picked up the order book and scratched out Nick’s name on the appropriate line. “I won’t be going back to New York.”

“What do you mean?” He leaned in closer.

The lemony scent became downright heady. Have mercy. Her nipples poked at her thin cotton sports bra. Tingles of lust wound their way straight to her pussy. Maybe she should start keeping a supply of clean panties on hand.

He rapped his knuckles on the counter. “Are you listening to me?”

“Yes.”

“You looked like you spaced out for a few seconds.”

“Just thinking. Now what would you like to order today?”

He shook his head. “Not so fast. Why aren’t you going back to New York?”

“Mom’s not going to be able to return to work. She’s now on dialysis.”

He glanced down at the floor then back up at her. His usually devilish eyes had softened. “I’m sorry to hear that, Eden. Your mom is a nice lady. I hope her condition improves.”

Eden averted her gaze. He was being nice. And Nick Lancaster’s “nice” wasn’t something she could take. As long as he played the fool with her, she could handle him, but this side? No.

She pressed the pen against the paper. “Thank you. So how many dozen roses? One for each of the Twelve Days of Love? A dozen different women or just one special lady this time?”

He choked with laughter, sputtering, “The Twelve Days of Love?”

She rolled her eyes. “Florist marketing. If you can have the Twelve Days of Christmas, why not the Twelve—”

“Days of Love,” he finished in a sarcastic tone.

Eden perched her hand on her hip and stared at him.

He licked his lips. Lusty butterflies fluttered in her lower abdomen, sending a delicious pleasure-pain to body parts she didn’t even know she had. Her stomach somersaulted. She wondered what it would feel like to kiss him. Damn. She had to stop doing this. They didn’t even like each other. She wasn’t his type—no pompoms. He’d laugh his ass off if he knew how I felt. As long as she didn’t see him, she was fine. But if she had to talk to him, be near him…

He came around to her side of the counter. “How long have we been rubbing each other the wrong way?”

Eden skirted past him and walked over to the display window. She twisted a pot of heavily leaved
philodendron so its back side faced the sun. “Forever. I’ve got a wedding tomorrow, Nick. I hate to rush you, but…”

When she turned from the window, he was standing in front of her almost nose to nose. She stumbled backward and he caught her, resting his hand at her waist. He stared into her eyes. How had she failed to notice those little gold flecks swimming in the dark green depths of his? His breath soughed warm over her face—more lemon drops and something else—his unique male scent.

And his hand—was it on fire? He took it away and the temperature of her skin where he’d been touching her plummeted.

“What will you be doing that night?” he asked.

“Wh-what night?” Surprised she’d found her voice, she hurried back to the counter and picked up the order book again.

“Valentine’s.”

“Oh.” She shook her head. “I’ll be lucky to get out of here by nine. And love will be the last thing on my mind, I can assure you.”

“No date, huh?”

“I don’t have time for dating. Can we do the order?”

He shoved his hands in his pockets before he moved back over to the counter. “So you didn’t leave any broken hearts in New York?”

Where the hell is he going with this? And why?

“I’m not exactly every man’s idea of the perfect date. Now if you don’t mind—”

“What’s a man’s idea of a perfect date?”

Exasperated, she blew out a burst of air. “I don’t know and don’t care. I have more important things to do these days than worry about the likes and dislikes of men.”

“What’s more important than love? You’re the florist.” He pointed to the Twelve Days of Love calendar.

“Exactly what is that supposed to mean?”

“You’re willing to sell the product of love but you don’t believe in it.”

“And you’re driving a Mercedes but you sell Chevys.”

Nick propped his hip against the counter, grinning. “Nobody’s ever challenged me the way you do, you know that?”

“Nobody’s ever pissed me off the way you do. You know that?”

His expression sobered. He looked wounded. “I don’t mean to.”

Deep down she knew that. Guilt crested inside her. “I guess we’re just oil and water, Nick. No harm done.”
An awkward silence rose between them. They just stood there staring at each other until Eden couldn’t take it another second.

“You still want to place the order?”

“Yeah,” he said, soft and low, in an almost-defeated manner.

A few minutes later, Nick had placed an order for roses to be delivered on Valentine’s Day to seventeen different women. With every name and address he read to her from his BlackBerry, Eden jabbed the paper a little harder with the pen. Her stomach churned at the thought of all those women. In her mind, she pictured them with pom poms, blonde hair and long, tanned legs.

And they giggled.

Yep, she was definitely wasting panty moisture on thoughts of Nick. Her five-foot-four, big-hipped frame capped off by average-sized breasts would never stand a chance against all those big-busted beauties. Even her soot-black hair was a sharp contrast to what Nick wanted.

“All right. I think I’ve got everything. I have your credit card on file. How about the card? The usual ‘Yours, Nick’?”

“Yeah.”

He sounded dejected. She would too if she’d just spent seventy bucks a pop on seventeen different women. No. That wasn’t it. Nick had money. Apparently their antagonistic relationship had gone a bit too far today.
Maybe this was his last order. How would she feel if that was the case?

“Thanks, Eden.” Nick headed for the door, stopped short just as he reached it, waited the space of a few seconds, then opened it. The bells jingled. He continued to stand there with his back to her. A car alarm blared out in the street. He closed the door and marched back to the counter.

Eden just knew he was going to cancel the order and that would be the end of Nick and her silly schoolgirl crush. Head held high, she braced herself for whatever he was about to say.

“I think it’s a case of practicing what you preach,” he said matter-of-factly.

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re right. I should drive a Chevy and you should believe in love.” His shoulders relaxed and he let out a long breath as if he’d been holding in what he’d said. And now that he’d spit it out, he seemed relieved.

“We’re back to that?”

“Yes, and I think we should do something about this,” he twirled his finger in front of him, “this oil-and-vinegar thing we have going on.”

“Water. Oil and water. You mean try to get along?”

“Whatever. And exactly. After all, it’s that time of year. The Twelve Days of Love.”

She smiled. “Okay, Nick. I’ll try if you will.”

Maybe they could get along. Of course, it wouldn’t help the physical side of things as far as she was concerned. But he didn’t come into the shop more than a couple of times a month. It might be nice not to feel so angry and wet when he left the next time.

“Good. I’ll pick you up at your mother’s house at seven.” He strode toward the door.

It was as if the floor fell out from under her. She grabbed the countertop. Blood rushed to her head and her heart drummed so loudly she thought surely the vibrations would bring the roof down on top of her.

“What!”

Nick spun on his heel. “Seven o’clock. Jeans will be fine. Twelve days, Eden. Twelve days of practicing what you preach. I’ll be driving a Chevy when I pick you up too.” He yanked the door open so the bells jingled, grinned, offered her a little salute and closed the door behind him.

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Historical Romance Contest

*permission to forward gratefully given and actively encouraged*

The love of story runs deep in the soul of our species. We long for
narrative that makes us laugh and cry, that makes us believe and hope,
that makes us eager for the resolution and yet dread the end. Whether we
listen around a campfire or curl up with our Kindle, a great story makes
us forget the world around us.

A story is greater than the sum of its parts. It's what editors and agents
look for; it's what readers want.

Because story is what sells, Hearts through History, a Special Interest
Chapter of Romance Writers of America (RWA) is focusing its 2011 Romance
Through The Ages (RTTA) contest on story.

The contest is open to both published and unpublished writers. Entries
must be original works of Historical Romance or Romantic Historical
Fiction not contracted for publication by the contest deadline of Feb. 1,
2011. Entrants do not need to be members of Hearts Through History or RWA.
Check guidelines on the website or full entry criteria. Entry categories:

- Ancient/Medieval/ Renaissance
- Georgian/Regency/ Victorian
- Colonial/Western/ Civil War
- Post-Victorian/ World War 2
- Time Travel/Historical Paranormal
- Historical Erotic

Final-round judges are: Kevan Lyon, Marshal Lyon Literary Agency;
Emmanuelle Morgan, Judith Ehrlich Agency; Rhonda Stapleton, Carina Press;
Rebecca Strauss, MacIntosh and Otis Literary Agency; Deb Werksman,
Sourcebooks Inc.; Alicia Condon, Kensington Books; and Kelly Schaub, The
Wild Rose Press.

All entries must be submitted electronically and cannot exceed 30 pages.
Entries must include a one- or two-page synopsis, which will not be
judged. Entry fee is $20 for HHRW chapter members and $25 for all others.

Deadline is Feb. 1, 2011. Final round will be judged by acquiring editors
and agents. Winners will be announced during RWA's annual conference
between June 28 and July 1 in New York City at Hearts Through History's
Annual General Meeting.

For more information or to enter, go to: www.heartsthroughhistory.com

New Publisher is seeking submissions

Seeking Submissions

Astraea Press is currently seeking manuscripts between 15,000 and 100,000 words. What we are looking for:

·        Any genre of romance or sub-genre of romance

·        Young Adult

·        Fiction of all shapes and sizes

·        Clean manuscripts with no language and no graphic sex

Astraea was formed in 2010 when two friends saw the need for a non-erotic e-publisher that offers wholesome reads but still maintains the quality of mainstream romance. The first titles for Astraea will be launched in February 2011.

With over six years experience in the publishing industry and avid readers, owners Stephanie Taylor  and Jane Paxson look forward to working with their authors, having fun, and bringing you the best books available.

Astraea is a royalty paying publisher, NOT a vanity press!

What we offer:

• Working one on one with our cover artist to develop a cover you can be proud to display
• 50% royalties on AstraeaPress.com site sales
• Individual, customized marketing plan for each author to help your sales that combine with our own marketing efforts for your book
• Direct communication lines between owner, editors, cover artist, and authors. No middle man here!

Check out our website, www.astraeapress.com, for more details!