Confessions of an Erotica Author

Happy Halloween everyone!!

Please join me in welcoming today’s fabulous guest author, Diamond Taylor. Take it away, Diamond…



Thanks so much to your blog goddess Gemma for having me. She told me I could blog about anything I want so beware it’s no telling what I’ll say! I went through several topics I wanted to discuss so I settled on having a confessional Q & A Here goes…


1. What’s your biggest addiction(s)?
Answer: Coffee, chocolate, gadgets and writing. Or chocolate flavored coffee. LOL. Seriously I have a serious obsession with single serve coffee makers. It’s like a sickness. I’m always looking for the newest coffee makers and coffee flavors. I went away on business this year and there was a coffee shop in the hotel, by the time I went home I was shaking and going through withdrawal. It was horrible (cringe). And chocolate OMG who doesn’t like chocolate? I’m talking: milk chocolate, dark chocolate, white chocolate, semisweet chocolate, bittersweet chocolate the list just goes on and on. Whoever got the idea for chocolate I’m indebted to for all of eternity. Gadgets. Love em. I have gadgets I have no clue how to use!J I can’t watch shopping channels and infomercials for that very reason. I’m the one that you hear about that’s up at 3am ordering stuff I don’t need. I have talking clocks, some kind of swifter thingy that I never use, digital photo frames. You name it and I’ve probably either had, have or thought about getting it. Finally writing. My characters are like family. They get on my nerves till I listen to them and they live with me rent free. They also bring me joy. I love the whole I idea of creating people, places and scenarios for them to work out. Writing is kind of like having a baby (though mothers may disagree). You nurture this story for months sometimes years, preparing it for the world. Then you go through hours hard labor and sleepless nights all in the name of romance. Then when you present it to the world some will say “aw, what a beautiful story!” while privately thinking, “this story sucks!” But you send it out in the world till someone accepts it and if you’re lucking it can become a tax deduction.



2. Did you always know you wanted to be a writer?
No! I was pre-law in college when I started dabbling in writing. I still can remember it. I was reading this novel and thought like most writers I could do better than that. And like most writers I found out very quickly with my first novel boy was I wrong. So I had in my head that I could write the great American romance and told my mom I was dropping out of pre-law and taking up creative writing instead.



3. Why erotica?
Originally I wanted to do romantic suspense and I never could finish the book. The characters were to far remove from me and I couldn’t connect with them. So one day my then CP asked me had I ever thought about writing erotica. I remembered being thrown by the question because it had never occurred to me. She thought my writing was much too spicy for mainstream romance and I should consider it. Then I participated in a mentoring program and my mentor told me the same thing. So I began to submerge myself in all things erotica and romance. And then after I was hooked! The stories just started the flow. I had so many ideas I didn’t know what to do with them all. I hope I have enough ideas for years to come.



4.When did you feel you became a bonafide writer?
That’s funny because each time something new happens I feel like I’ve made it as real writer. When I first started taking writing seriously as a craft and not just a dream I thought I was a real writer. When I joined Romance Writers of America who had best selling authors in their membership I thought I was a real writer. When I went to my first RWA conference and rubbed elbows with authors I’d adored from afar I thought I was a real writer. When I finished my first novel I thought I was a real writer. When I got my first rejection I thought I was a real writer. When I made my first sale I thought I was a real writer. When I got my first royalty check I thought okay now I’m a real writer. So I don’t know when I think I’m a real writer I let you know. Maybe when I hit bestseller list. That’s the perfectionist in me.


5. Parting words and latest news
I want to thank everyone for bearing with me as I ramble on needlessly. I want to send a special thank you out to Gemma for letting me use her blog as my little on confessional box.


To all the readers out there, thank you so much for the support you’ve shown to my first release. You rock! I hope you will stop by my little tiny slice of heaven at www.diamondtaylor.net. And read about my latest book news and reviews. Also you can find me on twitter and facebook. Search Diamond Taylor. My first book is entitled Total Package, which was released this Aug through Cobblestone Press. I have three other stories in the works.So keep reading and keep the romance alive!


To all the writers out there, just keep writing and follow your dreams. Don’t let anyone tell you different!


GIVEAWAY TIME! I have really cool giveaway. I’m giveaway Total Package poster and bookmark to the person who can tell me what city Total Package is set in.

~Diamond

Down for the count...

I meant to have lovely autumn pics from the Heartland to share with you today, but despite ample antibacterial wiping and liberal use of the Lysol, the nasty flu bug that got hold of my daughter last week discovered me as well. To speed my recovery I'll be spending today wrapped up in my Snuggie blanket sipping orange juice (now that I can keep fluids down again) and watching the leaves--and rain--fall outside my front window.

Get that flu shot(s) if available. Get proper rest and take care of yourself if you do come down with the flu. I was feeling fabulous one minute and dizzy as the very devil the next so this one sneaks up on you and--like a mooching guest--is very reluctant to depart.

So take care, stay well, and I'll talk to you next week.

~Bullet Hole~

Lucy and the Slipped Disc of Woe & Degradation

This is Lucy.
Lucy is a Pug.
Lucy is a very obese Pug.
Lucy is a very obese Pug and I am utterly Pug-whipped.

Sunday was an unhappy day in the Assassin house. Lucy wouldn't walk. She wouldn't EAT, drink or even sit. Occaisionally, she would scream inhumanly, alarming the guinea pigs and setting off the smoke detectors.

I had no idea what was going on. And that's so unlike me. Usually, I'm the one everyone comes to with questions about pet problems, the difference between "Frances" and "Francis," and to write obituaries. For some reason, they always come to me for obituaries.

But I had no idea what was wrong with Lucy. And this worried me. Which meant it scared the hell out of the kids.

Margaret: "Is Lucy gonna die?"

Me: "No. Something's wrong with her, though."

Jack: "Is she going to explode?"

Me: "Um, no. Why would you ask something like that?"

Margaret: "Duh, Jack! Dogs don't explode! They implode!"

Me: "What? Where did you..."

Jack: "That's just stupid. What's the trigger?"

Me: "Right. No trigger. Can we get serious for a moment?"

Meg (who just changed her name mid-conversation, naturalmente): "You? Serious?"

Jack: "So is she going to die? Can I get the new Bakugan trap?"

Meg: "Way to go, Jack! You wish Lucy was dead!"


Okay, so you can see what I'm dealing with here.

On Monday, Lucy was showing no improvement. So, I took lunch at 10 a.m. and took Lulu to the vet.

I love my vet. He's like a retired game show host who wanted to be Captain Kirk. I'm not even sure he dispenses sound medical advice - I just go there for the show. One time, I took a bird that I found in the yard unconscious. (Yeah, I know.) Doc looked at the bird, then looked at me and said, "It's a bird, Leslie."

Me: "Yes it is. Can you do anything?"

Doc: "I don't do birds, Leslie."

Me: "Oh. But you're a vet..."

Doc: "Take it outside and set it on the tree." And he walked out.

So I took Lucy in. Doc politely ignored the fact that she weighs twice what a Pug should weigh and checked her out. He did a lot of staring into space, tapping his fingers on the counter and mumbling to himself. Then he went and stood in a corner, ala-Blair-Witch finale.

Doc: "She has a slipped disc, Leslie."

He gave her a cortisone shot and some pills, asking me to let him know the next day how she was doing.

Pills. Lucy hates pills. This is a dog who would eat a dead mole carcass. Hell, most of the time, she eats whatever falls to the floor before identifying it. And yet, this dog...my princess...will not eat one quarter of a small pain pill.

Most dogs have muzzles that you can hold onto to keep their mouth closed until they get bored and forget they are trying to avoid swallowing. Pugs have more of a closed-fist-like face. It's almost like holding a bowling ball closed. Although why a bowling ball would open is beyond me.

Lucy has developed the most interesting reaction to having her face held shut. She foams at the mouth. And not just a little. She works up a very impressive spouting that comes through her clenched teeth and lips and pours out over everything in its path. Once you pull away in horror, she spits out the microscopic sliver of a pill.

The bitch.

I went back to work, at 11 a.m., covered in angry Pug hair and unmentionable amounts of foamy drool.

When I got home that night, she was springing around like a f%#!ing gazelle on meth.

The kids don't seem too disappointed that my pet didn't implode and once I get my dry cleaning back, I will give thanks that Lucy is alright.

Until the next episode.

The Assassin

A Picture Says a Thousand Words

Winners! Winners! Winners! It was so hard to pick a winner, so hubby pulled his favorites, I put names in a hat and drew. Please send me your snail mail addresses at: christie (at) Christie-Craig (dot) com. The books won’t come to me until a week before pub date, which is Nov. 24th.


#1) Bookmobiler: When we met on the internet and you described yourself as being all ears I thought you meant something else.

#2) Terri : She left me for a poodle. *sigh*

#3) Leona : I hope my friends never see this. I'd never hear the end of sleeping with a mouse.

#4) Shelli : You better be nice to me. If I cry, you're outta here, mister.

A picture says a thousand words, but what are these pictures saying?

I’ve had a busy and crazy week with out-of- town company, (I’m gonna blog about that next week) so today we’re doing something different. I’m holding a “write a caption” contest. You’ll see the four pictures below and the best caption for one of the four will win a copy of Divorced, Desperate and Deceived. So go ahead, get creative, and let’s have some fun. Write a caption for only one of the pictures or write a caption for all four.

And speaking of words, here’s some words from two reviewers on my November 24th release. My hubby is poking me saying, “See I told you didn’t have to worry.” And he’s right, now I can stop worrying about this book and start obsessing over my next release in June 2010, Shut Up and Kiss Me.

RT Book Reviews:

Divorced, Desperate and Deceived, 4 ½ stars, TOP PICK

The latest in Craig’s Divorced, Desperate and . . . series is fast moving, exciting and suspenseful, with the many delightful characters Craig always provides. The secondary romance is a wonderful touch, and much of the humor originates with and is provided by the male characters.

Though Kathy Callahan’s friends are determined to find her a man, Kathy has her eye on one who seems to have lost interest now that she’s ready to date again. While her son visits his dad for a month, Kathy hopes to connect with plumber Stan Bradley who, until recently, showed all the signs of being very interested in her. Only Stan isn’t really Stan; he’s Luke Hunter, an FBI agent in the witness protection program. Just as Kathy makes her move, so do the bad guys, and she winds up on the run with Luke. But some of the bad guys aren’t so bad – something that just may save Kathy’s and Luke’s lives.

Publishers Weekly:

The action only stops long enough for steamy passion in this fast-paced conclusion to Craig’s contemporary romance trilogy (after 2008’s Divorced, Desperate and Dating). Kathy Callahan is the last member of the Divorced, Desperate and Delicious Club to remain single, thanks to her distrust of men and her devotion to her son, Tommy. Sparks are flying between Kathy and plumber Stan Bradley, but Stan is actually Luke Hunter, an undercover FBI agent hiding out until he can testify against organized crime boss Lorenzo. When Lorenzo’s men—including hilariously reluctant mobster Joey Hinkle –catch up with him, Luke and Kathy have to flee, unable to trust even their closest friends. Craig keeps the sexual tension as high as the suspense in the mad dash Kathy and Luke make toward what they hope is safety, and maybe even love.

Okay . . . make sure you post your captions. Here are the pictures:

Photo #1:

Photo #2:

Photo #3:

Photo #4:

Things I'll Never Understand

There are things in life I'll never really understand. Like how or why anyone would need to send 800 text messages in one day. Why people need unlimited calling on their cell, etc. To start with, I don't have time to text 800 times a day, and since I haven't yet learned to do it with my toes (apparently teenagers can), while also painting my nails and working, then I'm going to have to pass. When I switched to tmobile, I signed up for the MyFaves plan, that allows you to call five of your favorite people an unlimited amount of time. Then you have minutes for everyone else. The lady wanted to sell my 1000 minutes. I disagreed, pointing out that the five people were likly the only ones I'd call 99% of the time.

When MySpace first started, I was writing and had sold a book, and everyone insisted that I was missing out on the viral marketing event of a lifetime, so I NEEDED a page. Yeah. My first thought was "I don't have time to mess with building a MySpace page. I need to be writing books." My second thought was "And then I'd have to get FRIENDS." But I spent a weekend cussing over the software and finally put up a page. I have no idea how many friends I have, but they kept showing up. BTW - I don't think I've actually looked at that page in almost a year.

Have you guessed yet that I'm an overworked introvert? My workdays are seven days a week, currently 14-18 hours/day given the day job, next book and other things I'm working on. I don't have time to pee, much less to have friends. I do have a few, in case you're wondering. I call them when I'm driving to and from work because that's the only time I can't be typing. They understand - hell, they're busy people, too.

So then Facebook comes around and again, the pressure begins. So now I have a Facebook page, but again, I haven't been there in forever, except to approve people. And what the heck are tweets? Never mind. I don't think I want to know since that sounds like something that would involve answering my phone. Why do people tweet? Either some people have far more interesting lives than I do, or they're just as boring and THINK they are interesting. Do I really need to tweet everyone that I finished a page on my book, or ate a bowl of cereal, or remembered to walk the dog?

Then there's those obnoxious Christmas letters - you know the kind. Where it details out all the wonderful things that Ken, Barbie and Muffy did last year. I guess I don't see the point unless you're sending those letters to people over 80 who don't use the Internet. Nowadays, I figure anyone important already knows everything that's going on with me between the blogging and MySpacing and Facebooking and Tweeting, heck we know more about people than necessary. And those that don't know probably aren't that important and wouldn't give a whit if I sent a letter anyway.

We are fast becoming an "On Demand" society. We want every single need/want filled immediately upon thought of it. So when does anyone ever sit back and enjoy it?

You have to wonder.

Deadly DeLeon

Author Debbie Mumford

Please join me in welcoming to KF a fabulous lady and super entertaining author, Debbie Mumford! Her latest book is a mix of a cool time-travel, a sweeping historical, and a really hot Scottish guy - what's not to love, right? So, take it away, Debbie...


It. Siblings ~ Ya Gotta Love ‘em
Debbie Mumford

So where do you fit in your family dynamics? Are you a first-born—responsible, helping your folks keep track of the younger rug-rats; a middle-kid—occasionally feeling lost in the shuffle; the baby—sometimes spoiled, sometimes resentful that everyone treats you like an infant; or are you an only child?

If you're the one and only, do you wish you had sibs?

If you have brothers and sisters, do you find yourself wishing you had your folks to yourself?

Well, I’m in a unique position to tell you there are pros and cons to both sides of the question. I’m an only child…with five brothers. No, seriously, that’s my actual position in my nuclear family. I have five sibs (all guys), but I was raised as a one and only due to the extreme difference in our ages. (I have a nephew just a few months my junior.) It’s an odd alignment, but it’s the only one I’ve ever known.

So, depending on how you look at it, I’m the baby of six, or I’m an only child. Bizarre, huh?

Like the heroine of one of my short stories, I was blessed (cursed?) with a mom who was wise to the ways of kids. By the time I was old enough to pull shenanigans, I knew I’d have to be very crafty to put anything past Mom. Fortunately, I’m smart…and female. Mom was accustomed to dealing with boys, so I managed to elude the parental units on a number of occasions.

Of course, I also had a bad case of youngest child syndrome—the need to please. Everyone else had already made their mark. What was left for me to excel in? Not much time for rule-breaking when you’re trying to measure up to (and surpass if possible) five excellent brothers!

So what effects have you noticed on your tough-as-iron yet delicate-as-a-butterfly’s-wing psyche that you can chalk up to birth order and the presence or absence of sibs?

~~

Please visit Debbie at Flights of Fantasy


Debbie’s latest release, The Silver Casket, is a time-travel historical romance about a contemporary woman who finds herself in fifteenth century Scotland.

Competing

Please join me in welcoming a fabulous author whose book Snowbound is a MUST read, a good friend, and (as you’re about to find out) very competitive game player, M.G. Braden! M.G. is giving away an ebook copy of Snowbound to one lucky poster, so be sure to comment today!
Take it away, MG…



Thanks, Gemma, for having me today while you are hanging out with your new babe.


I'm very competitive. Most of the time I don't even know it. I'm all about being nice and easy-going and it's all in fun. Blah, blah, blah.


A few weeks ago my family was called up to play Kerplunk Family Feud against another family at Church (well, it was for our church's Fall kick-off, we don't normally play games during our regular service—we're very, very serious for that. Mostly.) Now this was a complete surprise to both our family and the other chosen family. Because, really, who would say yes to playing Kerplunk Family Feud in front of their entire congregation? Let's not even discuss the fact that I'd never even played Kerplunk before and that I was dressed up because I was singing in the choir.


So, since there was no buzzer the children's pastor placed a rag doll in the center and whenever we thought we knew the answer we had to grab the rag doll. Then if we answered correctly we pull these sticks out of this contraption which drops marbles down. As an aside, I thought the idea was that you were trying to drop marbles down, but apparently the idea was to NOT drop them. Good thing my strategy didn't work.


Anyway, so we were part way through a very amicable game and, truthfully, we were winning because my entire family has way longer legs than theirs (other than the Dad in their family) so we could reach the rag doll faster. They may have been vertically challenged. I may have kept throwing the doll back closer and closer to their side to “help” them.


Until it was my turn.


Then all bets were off (not that we were betting, this was church, remember). I ran at that doll like I had the hounds of Hell at my feet and, apparently, so did my competitor. The next thing I knew I was on my knees, on the ground—halfway down the aisle—gripping the doll. And, thankfully, my skirt was still down. The head pastor stood over me, looking very concerned, and my oldest son tried to help me up (I didn't let him, I had to have some dignity.) “It's all good, I'm ok.” I smiled and nodded, but knew my body would deceive me later that day when all the contortions I had made trying to actually stop myself from falling caught up with it. Who cares? I had the doll! I won!!


Then someone made a comment about blood and I looked across at my competitor and saw her skinned knee. Lifted up my skirt (only to the top of my knee, not trying to scare people here) to check out my own leg and, sure enough, the rug burn was imprinted across my knee cap. I think I had left a skin graft on the carpet.


In the end our family won and to this day I still have a scab on my knee. And for what? A couple of Dairy Queen gift cards (pretty sure they got the same thing—because didn't we all win by having fun like that?) I like to joke that my friend hip-checked me in her thirst to win, but the funniest part was we didn't even touch each other. That and the fact that she's maybe 5'1” and I'm a good 5'10”.


Do you like playing games? Are you competitive? Post your answers and let us know and you'll be entered to win an ebook of Snowbound by M.G. Braden.


~M.G. Braden
http://www.mgbraden.com
http://www.mgbraden.com/blog

One of 'those' weeks...

Based on the picture above, I betcha you can guess what this blog is gonna be about. So here's the deal. Saturday night I'm awakened by the sound of wretching in the bathroom next door. It's one of my daughters. She has the flu. H1N1 or a strain of the seasonal bug? We don't know. They treat every flu as if it is H1N1 these days.

Sunday morning I get up and decide to make a run to Walmart for such necessities as Lysol (by the gallon), 7 UP, chicken noodle soup, and tissues. I park, run in, grab my items, and run back out. And the Jimmy won't start.

Nothing.

I sit there for a few minutes trying to decide who to call, realize everyone else is in church, and debate walking all the way home with my bags. I give the key one last crank and lo and behold, it starts!

I drive straight home, pull into the garage, turn the key off, then try to start it again and, you guessed it, NADA! Not even a click. Silence, except for the sound of me beating my head against the steering wheel.

It's Sunday. No one to call in my tiny hamlet. I have to get to work the next morning. I call my brother after church. He brings over his battery charger. A battery replacement is something doable on a Sunday. Except for it wasn't the battery. Naturally.

Monday I drive my kid's car to work. Imagine driving to the Statehouse and parking in the legislative parking lot with a car that has stuffed animals on the dash and riding in the back.

I leave work early Monday, get home, pray by some miracle Jimmy starts, kicks a tire when it doesn't, and call the repair shop. I ended up having to call a tow truck and pay forty bucks to have the Jimmy towed three blocks. Sigh.

The repair shop couldn't get to the Jimmy until Tuesday which meant another day of driving the kid's car. Yesterday I walked to the repair shop to pick the Jimmy up. Fortunately I didn't have to replace the starter, but I did have to replace the wire leading to the starter. For now I'm back in business.

Have you had car trouble that's left you stranded at an inconvenient place or time? Any repair shop horror stories to share?

Today I'm taking my mum out for lunch to celebrate her upcoming birthday. We'll browse through some shops, as well. I'll have to browse. I spent all my #$@! money on a wrecker and a starter wire...

Hope you have a great day and can make it to the weekend!

~Bullet Hole~

The Pictures Currently On My Camera...

So, my sister, Jenny (you know her as Sami in book 3) had a birthday party last weekend for her 2-year old granddaughter, Ava. This is me and Margaret. What's interesting isn't the fact that Jenny has a kegorator permanently installed in her living room (behind me), nor that she chooses to fill it with crappy PBR. No, the shell shocker here is that Margaret has now decided she wants to wear eyeliner. Can't get much cooler than rockin the Egyptian thing while wearing an Elmo hat.

Although it may seem like a good idea at the time, never print pictures like this one at Wal-Mart. They don't give a damn who shops there (why is Monday night always Serial Killer Night there?), but they sure as hell call the cops when you take pictures of your kids in a cage. That didn't happen to me because I was smart enough to develop them myself so no one will ever see them.

Wait...um... @#$%!

(No children were injured in the taking of this photo.)

This is how the kids celebrated Columbus Day. Nothing says, "thanks for the smallpox Snuggies and knock-off wampum" like a gay-looking Crocodile Dundee playing cars with Joan Jett in Jackie O sunglasses. I have to say, I didn't stage this. I just got lucky.

What's on YOUR camera right now?

The Assassin

My Hubby Binged Me In My Office

My Hubby Binged Me In My Office



To anyone popping in because they thought this was an R rated blog, well you’re gonna be disappointed. Reread the title again. I didn’t say “banged me,” I said “binged.” Oh, I’m not blaming you for being confused. I had the same reaction when my hubby used it on me.

Not that this blog is about being banged or binged . . . well it is a bit about being binged. But mostly it’s about self-doubt, insecurities, and those heroes who prop us back up on the self-confident wagon when we fall off. For this particular fall, my prop-me-up-guy was my hubby.

Yeah, it surprised the heck out of me, too. It isn’t as if he’s not supportive. He’s a gem. But saying the right thing at the right time has never been his strong point. Let’s just say, he’s not the guy you go to ask if the jeans make your butt look big. Ahh, but this particular time, he came through.

It was a couple of weeks ago and I was having a bad hair, bloated-feelin’ all around crappy day. And yes, deep down the real problem was the brewing insecurity. You see, any day, I would be receiving reviews. My baby, my little darling, my book Divorced, Desperate and Deceived was making its way around the nation and about to be scrutinized by people who very well could call my baby ugly.

Yeah, I’ve heard we’re supposed to be above all that. We’re supposed to believe in ourselves. Kick self-doubt to the curb like it was a stray pine comb. And to that I say . . . are you freaking joking? Please! Don’t we all have our moments when we question our abilities and our worthiness? And it doesn’t mean we aren’t strong women, we just have a weak spot . . . or two . . . or three.

Some of us worry we’re not good enough moms. Some of think we don’t deserve to live if we outgrow our size five jeans. Some of us think if we don’t have a man attached to our arms we are worthless. Or maybe it’s our career that has us obsessing. Most writers worry that their next book won’t be as good as their last.

I think it’s only human to question ourselves, to doubt our own abilities every now and then. No, we can’t wallow in that place, or even allow these feelings from preventing us from continuing down life’s path. (I’d never write another book if I did.) Nevertheless, those moments are why it’s important to have those special people in our lives. Those people who set us straight, who helps us see that we aren’t as sucky as we believe we are in those low, hit-bottom moments.

And that’s what hubby did for me that day. He looked at me sitting at my desk with the appearance of a wilted flower on the way to the compost pile. “What’s wrong?”

I gazed up. “What if they don’t like Divorced, Desperate and Deceived?”

“They will,” he said. “People love your crap.” (Okay, he could have done a little better with that statement.)

“Is it crap?” I asked.

He looked at me in an odd kind of way. His crooked smile became suspicious. “I Binged you this morning,” he said.

Now, here’s the part where I was confused with the word, and I replied, “Did I not even wake up?”

He chuckled. “Here, let me Bing you now and show you.”

I started working on getting in the mood, but it turned out, Bing is another search engine like Google. Who knew? I sure as heck didn’t. Anyway, he Binged Christie Craig and searched for images right there in my office. And on the screen popped up numerous pictures of . . . Christie Craig. In some of them, I really looked hot. Yeah, I sometimes sweat giving workshops. Some of them I looked hot as “wow, look at me there.” Of course, it was another Christie Craig, but it was cool to think some people might think it was me. A few of them gave the viewers insight to the real Christie Craig—a Weight Watcher’s returnee, and someone who’s passionate about writing. There were several pictures I’ve never seen, pictures of me standing beside a fan, or me giving a workshop, or me signing my books.

“See,” hubby said. “You’re Christie Craig and they love your crap.”

I laughed and most of the insecurities crumbled. Not just because of the pictures. Sure, I’ll admit it felt good knowing my fans liked me enough to post pictures, but mostly what felt good was seeing my hubby’s belief in me. Sometimes all we need to know is that someone else believes in us, and that alone chases away that moment of self-doubt and insecurities.

I consider myself very fortunate to have so many of these people in my life. So today, I hope you’ll find those heroes who believe in you, the people who prop you back up on the self-confidence wagon during your self-doubt, and when you find them, tell them thank you. Then I hope you’ll always be ready to prop someone else up who you believe in.

And I want to say thank you to all you guys who read my blogs, buy my books, and to all of you who as my hubby says, “loves my crap” because you too are on my list of heroes.

Movies and Such

It was a busy weekend. Basically, I worked all weekend. ugh Writing and writing and writing. My chiropractor is going to have his work cut out for him if I ever have time to make an appointment. Aside from writing, and the occasional eating and sleeping, I did manage to take a break and re-watch a movie that just came out on video. The Proposal.

If you didn't see this movie, please rent it. I loved it. I think Sandra Bullock is just wonderful in fish-out-of-water stories and combine it with a romance and it's even better. It's worth the rental for seeing Ryan Reynolds abs! That guy is seriously hot - I had no idea. But then I don't pay attention to much. No time.

In other television news, Hell's Kitchen is over and finally the guy I wanted to win, won. Congrats Dave! So You Think You Can Dance is getting down to the top 20 and it looks like this season is going to be spectacular.

American Idol is not coming until January, but is anyone else feeling kinda sad that Paula won't be there? I know she was a nut, but that was part of the fun. Also, not sure about having four judges. I think that's way too much of other people besides Simon talking and I usually don't care what anyone else has to say but him.

Dexter is on Showtime, but I don't have Showtime, so I will have to wait until it's out on video.

So what about you guys - what are you watching? Do you have Netflix? If you don't have Netflix, log on now and get it. I swear, it's the smartest decision I've made since buying the iphone.

Deadly DeLeon

Glory Shot

Please join me in welcoming romance author, Mima to KF! Mima lives in a small village on the Erie Canal where she rearranges her perennial garden, is a teacher-librarian to one thousand delightful children, and string partner to a wee black cat.
Take it away, Mima...



I’m a browncoat, which in geekspeak means I’m a Firefly fan. Toward the end of the movie Serenity, there is an image that Joss admits was one of his inspirations for the whole story. Blast doors open after all hope is lost, and there is River, their damaged little girl, standing in a pile of bodies with two gore-covered axes. And then the military pulls the wall down, silhouetting her. We all hold our breath. Will she attack them?

This is what I refer to as a glory shot. I’m not sure what the technical movie term is for it, but basically it’s the source of trailer editor’s dreams. A glory shot leaves your heart pounding, and your eyes dazzled in awe.

I am vain enough to wish a few of my books would be turned into film (starring Nathan Fillion wouldn’t hurt). When I imagine my books, I do see at least one “glory shot” in each of them. A glory shot from my newest book, Spirit Within, is one that happens early. The heroine, at that moment nameless and identifying only as Slave, enters a barren stone cell to find a shapeshifter hanging in chains. When his amber gaze lifts to hers, he puts his rage away to smile at her. Well. I may have rewound that scene a few dozen times in my mind.

Readers, do you have these kinds of visual memories from the books you read? I love it when an author has led me down that path, and those blast doors pull back, leaving me with frozen moments of beauty and impact.



Mima
www.mimawithin.com
Buy Claimed!

Author Jennifer Leeland

Please join me in welcoming the fabulous Jennifer Leeland to Killer Fiction. She writes sassy, sexy romance, and her alter ego, Jennifer McKenzie, writes fabulous romantic suspense. So, take it away, Jennifer...



Thank you so much, Gemma, for having me guest blog today and hello to everyone who comes by Killer Fiction.

Gemma made the mistake of telling me I could ramble about anything so...
I'm going to rant.

Do you have a favorite book or movie that someone attempted to make into a movie? I say "attempted" since most of the time the translation is bad. Very bad.
The worst attempt was made by the BBC. Most of the time, the BBC does a good job dramatizing mysteries. (Joan Hicks as Miss Marple. David Suchet as Poirot. Edward Petherbridge as Peter Whimsey) but one production was so heinous that I couldn't watch Mystery! on PBS for a few years after that.

In 1990, imagine my thrill when someone FINALLY put Ngaio Marsh, one of my favorite authors, on television. Eagerly I switched on PBS with my father, who was my partner in watching crime. Okay, so they started with "Artists In Crime". That was pretty good. Awesome.

But then, they went on to do "A Man Lay Dead."

To do this wonderful bit of out of orderness, they DELETED A CHARACTER! An important one. Angela North, the love interest for Nigel Bathgate, played a huge part in "A Man Lay Dead" and is referenced in several following stories. How could they DELETE her?? And what in the world were they doing giving her parts to Troy?
I was properly appalled.

It didn't matter that they did try to get back on track with "Death in a White Tie". I was disheartened. Stunned. (Hey, I was 19. Still in drama mode.) I did try and watch them again when I was less of a drama queen, but they still bothered me.

Funny how some will bug me that way.

"Lord of the Rings?" Totally not like the books at all. But I loved the movies.
"The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe?" Also a good adaptation though it took liberties.

But "Prince Caspian", the sequel to "The Lion The Witch and the Wardrobe?" No way. Hated that movie.

I used to think it depended on the book, but I'm not sure about that. I LOVE Frank Herbert's "Dune" and disliked the movie. But I liked the Sci Fi channel adaptation (which also took some serious liberties). Apparently, you can delete characters, change the story and do all kinds of weird things to a book when you dramatize it....but you have to do it well.

And the best part is that what I think is "done well" is certainly not shared by all. LOL.

So, what's your experience? Is there a book you've seen dramatized and thought "Noooo! How could you do that to my book?" Or "Wow! That was awesome!"
Of course, if my life is ever dramatized, I want Crystal Renn to play me. (She's here if you don't know who she is. http://www.stylelist.com/blog/2009/08/27/plus-size-women-getting-more-tv-time-but-is-the-focus-on-weigh/ )


~Jennifer
http://www.jenniferleeland.com/

And so it begins...

This is the scene I woke up to last Saturday morning. Big, fat, fluffy snowflakes. On October 10th. I went back to bed.

I am not a fan of winter. Usually I get cold in late October and stay that way until the first of May. This year the cold has set in early. It feels like we went directly from summer right into winter. Way too early for hibernation.

I've had to take extreme measures to combat the unseasonably chilly temperatures in the house to stretch the household heating budget over what could be a very long winter heating season. What drastic step have I taken to stay warm while keeping the thermostat down?

I bought a 'Snuggie'™ . That's right. A Snuggie™. One of those blankets with sleeves you see advertised on TV this time of year. The item that looks really lame and you swear you'll never resort to buying or using.

That Snuggie™.

As I said, desperate times call for desperate measures.

And how do I like my new blue Snuggie™? I LOVE it! I can wrap up in it and have my arms covered, but still have my hands free to use the laptop, sip my tea, and use the remote and all while keeping toasty warm.

If I could only find a solution for my chronically cold nose I’d be set.

Working today at the World Food Prize Ceremony so I’ll catch you all later!

Hope the weather is better where you are!

~Bullet Hole~

The Agnostic's Catholic Son & Other Tales of the Bizarre...

My little altar server!

To those of you who have known me for a while, this may seem like a trip to the Twilight Zone. Yes, I was at the mass where my little boy did the altar thingy. No, I did not burst into flame...my hand didn't even fall asleep. Yes, I was very proud of him.

I started out life as a Lutheran. By age 12, I quit the church because I got into an argument with the pastor during catechism (I know, you're soooo surprised). He said dinosaurs never existed...that science just made them all up. He also couldn't sing worth a damn, had halitosis and did I imagine it or was he wearing a bustier under his robes?

In high school, I toyed with atheism but found it too religious. By college, I'd settled on agnosticism. I'd read something by some Greek philosopher named Protagorus (sp?) who said we should be agnostic because we just don't know. That sounded about right. Or lazy.I get the two confused sometimes.

Oddly, one of my best friends in high school was a Traditionalist Catholic. Why? I admired her faith. We were both comfortable with who we were religiously and decided that time spent prosthelytising (sp? again? I got to stop drinking while blogging) was time better spent talking about boys and why I sucked at geometry.

My daughter is far more interested in science and the Ramones and far too sarcastic to get on with faith of any kind, unless it involves Hershey's chocolate and fluffy kittens wearing sweaters with skulls on them.

So, how did it come to pass that my nine year old boy up and joins the Catholic church? And how do I feel about it?

You might be surprised to know that I am very proud of him. Jack has always been very spiritual, even as a toddler. I had briefly flirted with the Unitarian church and we went for about a year and a half. Jack loved it. When he was four, we visited the John Deere museum. He insisted on pretend driving the combine with me as a passenger. As we sat eighty million feet over the cement floor, he told me, "I gotta get one of these!"

"Where would you drive it?" I asked, wondering why there weren't any seatbelts.

"I'd drive you to church every Sunday!" Was his response, as I imagined terrifying the good people of the Quad Cities as we drove down the interstate, taking up five lanes of traffic at a time.

I quit going. And not just because I liked sleeping in on Sundays (although that is a really good point). The minister, who I really liked and who was the same age as me, told me one day that the Pagans had left the church when they cut down some trees. He wanted to get them back. I didn't have time to hunt down cantankerous pagans and I believed at the time that I had a much stronger relationship with my mattress than I did with, well, anything else.

When Jack turned 8, he wanted to work on his Parvuli Dei pin for Cub Scouts. We set him up with my in-laws and every Saturday, Jack spent the afternoon with them, working on the badge and going to mass. He earned the award. He also decided he was Catholic.

Jack asked to start CCD. He took to it with an enthusiasm that made me smile. Within one year, he'd caught up with the other kids. Last spring, he had first communion and was baptized. This year, altar servicing.

This fall, Margaret and I went with him to his first CCD class. The teacher kept trying to send Margaret to the sixth grade class and was confused when I said that their grandpa would be filling out the paperwork and bringing him every week. I watched other parents drag their kids in, cuffing them in the back of the head. I saw their unhappy faces as they looked forward to another year of enforced religious education. I wondered what Torquemada's kid went through ("You're going or else! Don't make me get my pliers young man!").

Last week, Jack came home with a new rosary. They had a quiz in class and if they got an answer wrong they had to sit down. Jack was the last kid standing. He never missed a question.

You see, most of these kids aren't there because they want to be. They're there because their (did you see how in four words I used three different variations of "their?") parents said they had to go. Jack may be the only kid at Catechumenate of Christian Doctrine (that's right...I know what it means) who is there because he truly wants to be. He takes great joy in it. Jack chose Catholicism. It didn't chose him.

I can deal with my kid being religious as long as it's something he loves. Don't all parents say that? And I believe it too! Well, as long as he doesn't become a mathemetician. I mean, I have to draw the line somewhere.


The Assassin

A Word Between Strangers

WINNERS, WINNERS!!! Okay, Hubby pulled the names out of the hat.

Brandy is the winner of the ARC.

Second places winners: Emmanuelle, Terry Blain and Simply. You guys win either a copy of one of my earlier releases, or if you have all those, you can wait and receive a copy of DD&Deceived when I get my author copies. Email me at christie (at) christie-craig (dot) com.

Contest...Contest.





Today I will be giving away another ARC of Divorced, Desperate and Deceived--which I was notified is a Top Pick by Romantic Times Magazine and received a very positive Publisher's Weekly Review. So make sure you leave a comment to get an early copy.














A Word Between Strangers


A couple weeks back, I sat in the hospital waiting room while my hubby had some out-patient tests. I was surrounded by a variety of strangers--men and women of all varying ages and walks of life. There were grandfather types, newlyweds, and a lot of “middle of the roaders” like myself. I figured some of them to be lawyers, housewives, IRS employees, maybe even a preacher in the mix.

Some of them were alone, a few had company. Some of them seemed preoccupied—probably worried about a loved one. Several had brought reading material. I spotted a couple of romance novels, a Money Magazine and others’ read the Houston Chronicle.

Of course, the television, three of them, hung in every corner of the room, blaring out cable entertainment for the non-readers, or for those who were resting their eyes. Being the friendly sort, I would nod and offer a bit of conversation to my waiting-room companions. Hey, we were together and sharing a word or two just seemed to be the polite thing to do.

But I have to tell you, the words I’d expected to share with strangers that day were NOT “erectile dysfunction, penis enhancement, male enlargement, sexual endurance, vaginal itch and feminine odor.” And that seemed to be what constantly played on the television—over and over again.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying these ads are a bad thing. I seriously think it’s good that we can talk about these issues. Erectile dysfunction and feminine itch is a part of life and when you’re dealing with it, it’s a big deal. But as I sat in a room of strangers while the television broadcasted the testimony of a man who claimed a pill actually added inches to his sex organ and his significant other accompanied him in the commercial, smiling ear-to-ear with what my daddy would call a chicken shit grin, well, I found myself getting tickled.

That’s right. I couldn’t help but laugh. Quietly, of course. But with me sitting across from the man who looked like a preacher, it made the situation even funnier.

But it got really funny when after the longer-than-normal commercial about a penis enhancer came an advertisement about feminine odor. I tried to hide my chuckle with a cough.

The poor man turned beet red and refused to look at the television, unfortunately he didn’t have anything to read, so he started humming and staring at his hands. A woman, a grandmotherly type, got caught up in my mood and leaned over and whispered, “I remember the day I couldn’t tell people I was pregnant. And now a man goes on television and admits he has size issues.”

We both chuckled and instantly several others across the room also started chuckling. Hey, it was one of those awkward moments that ignoring it didn’t make it go away—we didn’t have the clicker to change channels—so laughing at it just made it feel a little better. Well, most people felt better, I’m not sure the red-faced man got into the humor mode, at least not until after the feminine odor aired and following it came a commercial about the very natural-feeling condoms showing an eager couple wanting to buy out the whole stock. Almost the whole room burst out laughing. Right then even the red-faced gentleman cracked a smile.

Ahh, but the entire situation got me thinking about conversation etiquette. I can’t remember when I was first educated in proper “conversation,” but I remember the rule: no discussions of politics or religion were to be brought up in social situations with people who were not more than casual acquaintances. We didn’t even list no-nos like sex or the size of a man’s Johnson, because it was a no-no just to put it on the list. Sure it might be discussed between girlfriends—girlfriends have forever discussed these no-no topics, but with strangers? I don’t think so.

Well, today, good or bad, at least where television is concerned, there seems to be no conversation etiquette. The sky, or I guess I should say, a man’s Johnson, is the limit. But for me, someone who even writes romances, and I admit, I use lots of sex humor in my books, it will be a while before I lean over to a stranger and just casually discuss feminine itch.

So, what about you guys? What do you think of conversation etiquette? Have you been in a situation that an inappropriate conversation has had you snickering or turning red?

Come on, leave a comment and let’s laugh a little. And remember, everyone who leaves a comment will be entered in the contest to received an ARC of Divoriced, Desperate and Deceived.

Crime Scene Christie

A Hat and Weird Neighbors

Yesterday was the annual Buns & Roses Tea here in Dallas. Local romance authors host tables of readers and the proceeds go to literacy. It's a good time for all and people get to learn to read, which is a great thing. I hosted the Red Hat Society ladies and they were a blast. Very fun group! In fact, they made me an honorary member for the tea and it even came complete with a hat loan. Check it out:

So if you're ever in Dallas in October, you should try to make the event.

Next story, you remember back early this year I said my neighbors were strange, but I didn't indicate which ones. Well, the correct answer is most of them, but I have to tell this story whether they read this or not (I'm guessing not) because it proves my point.

Last Tuesday night a storm moved through the area. I was watching television and dozed off on the couch. Around 11 pm lightning struck somewhere close and I woke up already standing straight up. It was THAT loud. I walked outside and looked around but our neighborhood has barely any lighting and it was still pouring down rain, so I couldn't see anything. The power had gone off with the blast so I said to heck with it and went to bed. Now, my bedroom is at the back of my house, so I can't hear anything going on out front once I'm in there. Not to mention, I sleep like the dead.

Well, the next morning, I go outside and can clearly see where lightning struck - my neighbors house. Which apparently also caught fire and now there is tarp flapping in the wind trying to cover a gaping hole in their ceiling/front facing.

Okay, for the record: even if you don't like your neighbors, if you HOUSE IS ON FIRE, ring the doorbell and ask for help. We're the last two houses on the block. It's not like I'm the furthest away. So really? Your house is on fire and it's better to NOT ask for help? What the heck is that about? And the thing is, I've talked to the husband before in my garage when I was doing woodworking. He knows I have heavy duty staplers, nail guns, stacks of tarp.

I simply don't get it. I called my friend and she agrees that I win the weird neighbor award because even her weird neighbors (the nudists) would have rang her doorbell if their house was on fire. They might not have had on clothes, but that's a whole other issue.

Deadly DeLeon

How to be a Sensual Diva

Please join me in welcoming author Mary Quast to Killer Fiction. Take it away, Mary...



Greetings! I am Mary Quast, the author of the sensual contemporary romance Soul Series. I love to not only write sensually… that is I write using all my senses, but I live that way as well. My goal is to write in a style that pulls the reader into the story to the point of feeling, seeing, smelling, touching, tasting whatever the characters do. Believe it or not, it’s not hard to bring that concept into daily life. I have three boys, am married to a pilot; have a houseful of pets so I know how easy it is to fall into the traps of a monotonous and boring daily routine.


Having a daily routine is important for keeping your stress level healthy but your love life should never become habit. Sensuality is more than just wearing lingerie. While writing Lonely Soul I researched Kama Sutra and Tanta to add more sensual/spiritual elements to my hero. (If you ask dear hubby about the research, he’ll answer with a smile.) I’d like to share some hints and suggestions on how to indulge your senses and use the erotic fundamentals we often overlook to experience the sizzling freedom our favorite fictional characters encounter.



Sight

Flowers and bright colors are sensual in a room. Many people are stimulated by this sense so use candles or dim lighting to add to the aura of the mood. Women are beautiful and deserve to be seen. Wear something comfortable that visually compliments your favorite physical features. Try doing a strip tease or a sensual dance while keeping eye contact the entire time. Show your partner how much you enjoy his excitement. Also, for the fun of it, try making love in a new place. Get a room for the night, try it in public, or it can be as simple as the dinning room table! If you’re honey is gone, hide some yummy pictures of yourself in his overnight bag so he’ll always have you on his mind.


Smell

The most common aphrodisiacs are fragrances. Carefully choose candles, flowers, oils and incense to create the sensual atmosphere. Don’t over due with too much of a good thing though. A nice hint of a fragrance will leave a lasting impression. Every time your lover smells the scent in the future it will be associated with making love to you.


Hearing

Sound is the sexiest sense. Try reading sensual poetry or stories aloud to your partner. Use music to stimulate this sense. Create arousal with your own voice; those soft sounds you make when you are pleasured or tell your lover what you want or what you’re going to do. I think it’s a lot of fun to tease my Flyboy all day long by telling him what I want to do with him once he gets home. (And you think those airplanes fly fast to get the passengers to their destination! LOL)



Taste

This is the sense where you can get creative. Use this sense to give another the taste of something they crave without full satisfying their hunger until you are ready to. A variety of sensual foods and wine are pleasurable when feed to each other. This is where edible lotions, chocolate body paint (or Hershey’s syrup), strawberries and whipping cream come into play. My personal fav is Honey Dust. Not only do these items taste yummy, but are great for exploring each other with.


Touch

Hmm… my favorite sense. This is about feeling intimate. Incorporate everything here; the feel of a silk chemise against your skin, the soft cotton sheets, a fuzzy rug, a feather, a cold surface, a shower and think of different ways you can use your fingers to touch. Follow the contour of muscles with your fingers, your nose, or your tongue. Ladies: when an aroused male is involved there are always a lot of exciting things to see and touch! Keep eye contact as you strip off clothing or caress skin; this can be in many ways more intimate than the physical stroke especially when the eyes can reflect our hopes, fears, and passion we feel. Enjoy each warm breath on a cheek, experience the heat of aroused skin, passionate kisses.


The Mind

This is a little something I like to add to the list. Use anticipation and imagination to heighten the senses. A sexy invitation and simple touches or teasing adds to arousal. Pull out the handcuffs, silk scarves and a blindfold. Tell your partner what you’re doing in a romantic voice when he is blindfolded and/or tied up. Trust me… it’s fun! Don’t hold back your emotions, be free to express yourself. Trust and confidence are powerful aphrodisiacs.


Keep that fire burning; constantly care for it by continually working and paying attention so the flames of passion won’t burn out. Use all your senses and become a sensual person and lover. For a little boost read some sensual romance to your honey in bed with incense burning and soft music playing.

~Mary

Mary Quast is the author of the Soul Series published by Vanilla Heart Publishing, available at Barnes & Noble and Amazon.com.

Painted Soul – June 2008
Tormented Soul – Feb. 2009
Lonely Soul – May 2009
Fortunate Soul – 2010
Dark Soul - 2010

Visit Mary’s website: http://www.maryquast.com and her blog: http://maryquast.blogspot.com/

Characters Who Demand Attention

I have a fabulous, fantastic guest blogger lined up for today, but first I just have to share a bit of news… baby’s finally here!

Late last Friday night my little baby bump finally arrived in the form of an actual baby! Thomas William (or “Tommy”, as we’ve been calling him) popped in at 9:10pm, weighing in at 7lbs5oz and 20inches long. One chubby little bundle! I’m happy to report that both Mom and baby have survived their first week together, and Mr. Big is mastering the fine art of diaper changing like a champ. ;) I’ll try to pop in with more updates in the next couple weeks, but in the meantime…

Please join me in welcoming to Killer Fiction a very cool author, a fun gal to hang out with, and the very best assistant a girl could ever had, Haven Rich. Take it away, Haven…



When the chance to blog at Killer Fiction was presented, I couldn't wait to jump on the bandwagon. It presented me with the perfect opportunity to blog about one of my all time favorite characters, Bobbie Faye Sumrall. Bobbie Faye is the creative (genius) work of Toni McGee Causey.

So let me tell you about this little rollercoaster ride with dynamite better known as Bobbie Faye.

Book 1: CHARMED AND DANGEROUS

Bobbie Faye is a disaster waiting to happen. However, this “don't take no for an answer” woman has never needed anyone. EVER! But when she wakes up in the middle of the night and finds her trailer has been newly renovated as a pool, she calls her brother, Roy. After all, he had promised to fix the blasted water heater. When Roy FINALLY answers his phone, he claims to have been kidnapped and the ransom is the only thing Bobbie Faye has from her Mamma, her plain metal Contraband Queen tiara.

The problems just keep adding up! She's standing in a flooded trailer. Her lights have just been shut off, requiring a huge deposit. The tiara is at the bank in a safety deposit box. Plus she has to get her niece, Stacey, to school.

Adding to her day from HELL, Bobbie Faye's car sputters to a stop and dies (thankfully) in the bank parking lot. After getting her check cashed and securing the tiara, Bobbie Faye starts to leave the bank but is robbed of both. Pissed, she chases after the bandits by forcing a guy (at gun-point) to lend a helping hand.

Not wanting Roy to be killed before she gets the honors, she must retrieve the tiara from before handing it over to the kidnappers, all while dealing with an ever so handsome hostage. Making matters worse, a car chase ensues between the bank robbers, Bobbie Faye (and her hostage) and a local cop (who just happens to be her ex-boyfriend, Cam).

Before the day is over, Bobbie Faye will have more than her fill of irate ex-boyfriends, infested Louisiana swamps, FBI, explosions and her attractive captive, all this while wearing a “Shuck Me, Suck Me, Eat Me Raw” t-shirt from a local restaurant. The day couldn't get any worse…Could it?

Book 2: GIRLS JUST WANNA HAVE A GUN

Bobbie Faye is BACK!

The Contraband Queen's life is barely returning to normal (whatever that might be), when she is caught in a shooting out as she's TRYING to talk a sweet old lady out of buying a handgun. Narrowly able to escape without adding new holes to her body, she is nabbed by a would-be kidnapper. When the would-be kidnapping process is repeated more than once, Bobbie Faye is more than peeved. She's ready to kill someone!

Tossed in the middle of family drama, again, Bobbie Faye is now faced with tracking down her aunt and some very valuable diamonds. The idea of having people chasing her again isn't exactly what she had planned. If one ever planned such things.

In any Bobbie Faye adventure the normal challenges arise…

Bullets narrowly missing their target. Exploding objects (including a bridge, now missing a huge chunk). And let's not forget her ex-boyfriend, who is a local cop, two steps behind her (and pissed!).

As if having Cam on her trail again wasn't bad enough, she finds out that the sexy, Too-hot and Oh-so-Sexy Trevor has been keeping surveillance on her. But just when you think her man troubles couldn't get worse, she learns that this time she must endure something that trumps all the flying bullets (aimed at her), car bombs, voodoo spells and Cam's snarling attitude…her dad.

With the (unwanted) help from her family, Bobbie Faye must find the diamonds, stay alive and not be arrested for Murder. Simple enough goal! Right?

Book 3: WHEN A MAN LOVES A WEAPON

Bobbie Faye wants a quiet life, in a quiet part of the Louisiana swamp, with her OMGS gorgeous boyfriend, Trevor. Three things stand in her way: 1. She's Bobbie Faye and chaos has followed her from the crib, 2. Trevor is a FBI agent who has just been sent out on an undercover mission and 3. Sean MacGreggor is aching to destroy it all. As if this wasn't bad enough, she is left with Trevor's friend, Riles, to babysit her.

While Bobbie Faye has recovered from her gun wounds, she is still un-nerved and sleep isn't on her BFF list. Between lack of sleep and Trevor's extended assignment, painting her living room nine shades of crazy has kept Bobbie Faye from going off the deep end (which some may say she did long time ago) or using her new babysitter for target practice. But when Trevor hasn't returned home as he said and numerous calls to the FBI headquarters turns up nothing, its clear Bobbie Faye must find what's going on by herself.

These books aren't your classic bad guy action-thrillers. It's a rough em' up-blow it up-track em' down-chicken dance kind of books. If you feel like taking a ride on the dangerous-explosive side, pick up a copy and hold on tight. Toni McGee Causey has penned what could only be described as chaos on crack x3. Miss Causey will have you laughing out loud as her insane characters take you on a ride of pure chaos.

When asked how these destroy-the-world-now and ask questions-later characters came to be, Miss Causey swears she was sitting at her desk when “THAWCK” there was Bobbie Faye. Nothing short of being hit in the head by a 2x4. She confesses that Trevor and Cam quickly followed behind.


**********


Now that I've told you about Bobbie Faye, tell me about your favorite characters and why you love them so much!


~Haven


Bio:
Haven Rich currently resides in Louisiana with her husband, both of which are slaves to several royal cats and one extremely spoiled Cocker Spaniel. She is also a member of, RWA, The Beau Monde (an RWA chapter), Romance Divas, and founder the group Romantic Inks.

Before and Afters Part One

It's 'that' time of year again. Days are growing shorter and heating bills begin to creep upwards. Leaves are falling right along with the temperatures--not to mention, my spirits. The 'S' word is in the forecast. We're getting down to the wire. Outdoor projects must either be completed or languish through a long, miserable winter along with the rest of us poor suckers who must contend with another Heartland winter.

As you know, I've been working on my house and garage exteriors. I've spent more time on a ladder this summer than some folks spend in a lifetime and my hair has sported more bizarre color combos than I'd care to think about.

It's crunch time.

And I'm nearing the finish line. (No snorts or snarky remarks allowed!)

Yesterday I spent the day on the ladder painting over spots I'd missed--or been too terrified to do a good job the first time around. I managed to finish the garage--or at least call it as good as it gets for this year. So you'll know how I spent some of my summer 'vacation' I thought I'd post some before and after pics of the garage. So here is my flat roof garage before it's 'facelift'.

And here is the 'after' pics.

Some people have commented that my garage looks like a tiny little house now! As you may recall, the side of the garage with the walk-in door and large window used to be my office. Until the roof began to leak. So, next spring, I'll do a total re-do of my office area and update it and, hopefully, swing a new garage door and opener. Whoo hoo!

Next week I'll post pics of the house. I should have most of the clutter associated with my long-term do-it-herself projects put away and out of sight for the winter.

Any last minute projects that need your attention or are you good to go for the coming winter months?

Today it is rainy and cold here so I plan to do laundry, write, and munch on corn candy and peanuts...uh, not necessarily in that order.

~Bullet Hole~

Oh I'm Knitting Up A Ski Mask For You...Not An Ordinary Ski Mask Will Do...

So, on one of our daily rants to each other about who should die and who should be our slaves, Deadly DeLeon mentions she'd like a ski mask. Of course, I offer immediately to knit one for her and ask her what color she'd like. She tells me turquoise is her favorite color. Go figure. I saw her as a "fairy princess pink" chick. Oh well.

I can't just knit ANY old ski mask. This has to be special. After all, there has to be a reason to own a wool ski mask when you live in Texas.

So I find this pattern online. It's called Bokaclava and was designed by a knitter who fancied some gargoyle or demon on Dr. Who, named Bok. (Subversive knitters rock.)

It's almost done. That's me modeling the main part of it while knitting one of the pointed ears. Once the ears are on I can add the horns and do a little tweaking, then wet it down and block it to make it perfect. I just have to make sure the dye stops wearing off so Jana won't look like a smurf after wearing it...

I'm leaving it to Deadly DeLeon to model the finished project on this very blog. (Hint - you should encourage her to do this.)

Why am I telling you? Because;

1) I'm kinda proud of myself. This was a bitch of a pattern (Jana is so worth it);

2) So you can get the hell out of her way if you see her wearing this, walking down the street with an uzi (in which case you must take pictures and send them to me).

Next project, a Henry Rollins doll for a Todd's birthday in November. After that, who knows?

The Assassin

Conference Aftershock

Ahh, I’m not back home yet, I’m at my dad’s in Alabama. But I’m still reeling from a fabulous conference at Moonlight & Magnolias in Atlanta, Georgia. Wow, what a great group of people. I chatted with editors, agents, and a whole bunch of writers. And most of them talked like me. It’s kind of nice to be in a place where my southern drawl doesn’t draw more attention. A few sayings I’d almost forgotten but am hearing…

* I’d done did it.
* Fine as frog‘s hair.
* People are offering to “carry me” places, and they aren‘t really planning on picking me up.
* Everyone is “fixin’” to do something, too.

None of these saying made me stop and think. They just made me feel at home.
I met so many great writers. Being with other writers is like going to a family reunion for the first time and meeting people who sort of look and act like you. I mean, I can be sitting around having a conversation with someone and suddenly pause and blurt out, “Oh my gosh, I just realized the perfect way that Frankie has to die.” And no one in the room is going call 911 or even think I’m the least bit scary.
Yes, this basically means that writers are weird. We can’t help it, it’s part of our DNA. We do an immense amount of people watching. So when authors stare at someone we aren’t being rude, we’re just doing our job, looking for characteristics to showcase in our books. If someone has a unique nervous tick, you can bet that nervous tick will show up in my book. If someone has a different facial expression, we steal it for our characters. And then there’s the eavesdropping writers are always known to do when we get in a crowd. Hey, some tiny piece of dialogue will spark our imaginations and bam, we get an entire plot. So I’ll admit I did some eavesdropping. Unfortunately, it was too apparent that I was in a hotel filled with other writers. Below are just bits and pieces of conversation I overheard:

“He’s not that old, only 150 years or so…”

“I really think you should have found another way to kill him. That was too easy.”

“He gave up sleeping in the casket about a hundred years ago…”

“He didn’t want to turn her, just feed off her a little…

“Then he borrowed his neighbor’s body so if he got shot up it wouldn’t leave scars…

“I don’t usually kill people. Wait I take that back. I did kill Jim, but everyone wanted him dead.”

“And after he was dead, I couldn’t decide what to do with the body. Because for things to work out, I needed him to be partly decomposed before they discovered him.”

“He’s killed a lot of people, but that was when the villain had control of his mind, so underneath it, he’s still a hero.”

“He’s stuck in dog’s body and in his human form he’s vegetarian. So he‘s starving to death.”

“And then he meets himself in the future and takes the ring back.”
“She found the dead guy in a Porta Potty wearing the hat that said, “Shit happens and then you die.”
　
Okay…that last piece of dialogue was my own. But seriously, can you imagine the few people staying at the hotel who weren’t writers and what they must have overheard?
So…what bits and pieces of dialogue have you guys overheard? Any great plot ideas happening in your neck of the woods? Any nervous ticks you care to share with me so I can add them to my characters?

Come on, share a little.

Crime Scene Christie

Monday Rush

It's raining, and I've been fighting a viral AND bacterial infection for a week now, AND I have a book I have to write. ugh So I am perpetually behind. In fact, I am staring at my own butt. I've already forgone clean house, clean underwear and groceries to get things done, but there's really nothing else I can give up....well, except work. And god knows, today I'd really like to give up work.

I apologize for having nothing useful to say. I mostly only have complaints - like that the new season of Dexter is on Showtime, but I don't have Showtime and refuse to pay the rates they want for it. (sigh) So lord only knows how long I'll have to wait for it to appear on Netflix - along with the million other people waiting.

So You Think You Can Dance is back on and running well. Hell's Kitchen is winding down and I must say there's only one person on there I like and another I don't detest and the rest are worthless. So picking the final two is easy for me, and I already have a winner in mind. I'm just hoping Chef Ramsey agrees.

For those of you with little ones, a lady gave me this link last week. It's her six-year-old daughter's favorite website and I have to admit, that I did waste some otherwise clean underwear time taking a peek. It's hard to resist:

http://cuteoverload.com/

Deadly DeLeon

Author Kimberly Lang

Please join me in welcoming Kimberly Lang to Killer Fiction. Kimberly, take it away!

* * * * * *


I love Facebook.

Aside from connecting me with readers around the world, it’s reconnected me with friends I haven’t seen since we graduated from high school and folks I went to college with. I love how easy it is to find the people who were so important to me at a point in my life but that I somehow lost touch with. And it’s better than regular ol’ email, because I can visit their pages and see their kids and their dogs, learn about the hobbies they’ve picked up, and sometimes more importantly, learn what they majored in at college and what they do for a living.

See, I hate doing research.

I know there are writers out there who love research. Writers who will spend hours uncovering details, mining for data gold, and immersing themselves in the facts. I’m not one of them. I know the internet makes all the information in the world available at the click of a mouse, but I just don’t have the patience to sift through the flotsam and jetsam of the ‘net to find the info I need. Plus, I have the attention span of a three-year-old, so I’m very lured by the link to the *other* cool thing that has nothing to do with what I’m researching.

Let’s say my hero has an accident. I need him to be hurt bad enough to keep him in the hospital for a couple of days, but not bad enough to cause permanent damage. I could go Web MD and spend an hour (and probably diagnose myself with something rare and horrible while I’m there). But why do that when three of the folks in my graduating class are now nurses? I click through to Facebook and send a message: “Hey girl! Hope you’re well. Remember how I held your hair back while you puked on prom night? You said you owed me forever? Call me. We need to chat.”

Facebook will tell me which of my friends live in Chicago now, who raises horses, who became a dentist, who spent time in the military, who’s working on a PhD in physics, and who’s selling insurance. One day, I might need to talk physics, and I’ve already cashed in on the Chicago and insurance connections.

Facebook is the ultimate Phone-a-Friend Life Line.

Of course, the fact I’m now a “published author” means I get the “I’m writing a book, can you introduce me to your agent?” requests. It’s a bit tougher to say no when the person asking held my hair back on a night I don’t fully remember.

So who have you found on Facebook who surprised you with what they grew up to be or the hobbies they have? (My friend who was a goth before goth was cool is now working for a conservative politician. I think the photo I have of him in that “Anarchy Now” t-shirt might be worth something…)

I’m away at a reader’s luncheon in Louisiana today, so I might not be able to respond to your comments until later tonight, but I’ll chose one commenter to get a copy of my new book, The Millionaire’s Misbehaving Mistress.

Kimberly

www.booksbykimberly.com

THE MILLIONAIRE’S MISBEHAVING MISTRESS (Harlequin Presents)

Perfect, polite… and passionate!

As Dallas’s most eligible bachelor and heir to his family’s fortune, billionaire Will Harrison knows how to handle the paparazzi – but his little sister Evie is a worry.

Miss Behavior, etiquette expert Gwen Sawyer, has only three weeks to work her magic on Evie before a society ball, and so moves into Will’s luxurious penthouse. However she discovers too late that etiquette is the last thing on devilishly handsome Will’s mind…

****

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