All About the Writing

Romancing the Hop: Summer Lovin'

Welcome to Romancing the Hop, a blog hop celebrating romance in all its forms.

One of my favorites is the summer romance. There's something about the heat and the sun--and the poignancy of a built-in expiration date--that makes for a fun and flirty experience everyone should have at least once in their life.

In my novella, Summer Lovin', Mia is doing her best to resist her attraction to Luke, a hunky chef who lives next door to where she is dogsitting Hellboy, a mischievous Bichon. Luke is very interested in having a summer romance with Mia, but she doesn't do flings. She just has to keep reminding herself of that. . .

If Hellboy hadn't had such a short attention span the previous night, Mia might have given in to the urge to have her very first fling.

She adjusted the lawn chair so it was in a reclining position, and then grabbed the tube of sunscreen. She couldn't take a chance on falling asleep and getting burned today. And after tossing and turning all night, spending way too much time reliving the kiss, she could barely keep her eyes open now.

Talk about a kiss. It made her want to—

She squeezed the tube of sunscreen so hard it came out in a huge splat. "Ack! That's enough to cover everyone in the whole neighborhood."

She dabbed her fingers in the lotion and spread it on her arms, rubbing it up onto her shoulders. She couldn't stop thinking of Luke, which led to less-than-innocent thoughts of what could happen next.  

She couldn't let anything else happen though. It wasn't practical. Still, she liked that Luke had seemed disappointed when they'd been interrupted. She liked even more that he'd been a gentleman about it, and didn't try to press her further. He'd even been indulgent with Hellboy the Interrupter, which had made Luke's sexiness really soar off the charts.

A little "ruff!" stopped Mia's wild thoughts. Hellboy loped over to her chair, barking up a storm, his tail wagging non-stop.

"Speak of the devil."

As aggravating as he was, he was still too cute for words. Mia leaned over to pick him up, but just before her hands reached him, he spun around and sprinted toward the gate.

"Fine," she said, ignoring him, going back to rubbing sunscreen on her legs. "You're trapped here with me though."

"That doesn't sound so bad," a sexy voice said.

"Oh! Luke." She sat up. "I was talking to the dog." She laughed. "Which sounds pathetic, I'm sure. Especially since he doesn't listen to anything I’m saying."

He stood there, with his hands on his hips, and Mia had to shield her eyes to keep the sun from obscuring all of his manly yumminess. Why had she never realized how sexy a white T-shirt could be? Maybe it was because she'd never seen one emphasize a man's muscles quite like his did. Her face heated, but thankfully she could blame it on the sun beating down on her skin.

She wouldn't mind seeing those muscles without the shirt again. She had been too distracted when she'd first seen his bare chest, and it had been such an effort trying to pretend she wasn't ogling him. And the blue jeans he wore today. . .well, the Smithsonian should ask to have them in their permanent collection. They were just that perfect. Only the perfection was really in what they covered.

Luke cleared his throat.

Dear God. Mia sneaked a peek at his face, but his lips were tilted up in amusement.

"Why don't you sit down?" she offered. It would be easier to keep her eyes, and hopefully her libido, under control.

"Actually, I can't stay," he said. Somehow she kept from whimpering. "I just came over to see if you wanted to have dinner tonight."

She opened her mouth, pretty sure she should decline, but then he added, "You said how you don't like to cook, and well, I don't mind."

"I couldn't have you do that," she said, but her protest was half-hearted at best.

"It would be my pleasure."

His voice was promising something in addition to dinner, and the expression in his eyes confirmed it. Mia nearly had heat stroke, and the sun was blameless. Her brain insisted this could not be a good idea, not in the long run, but another part of her vetoed all of the rational arguments, focusing instead on pleasure.

"How could I possibly say no to that?" 

There are lots of great giveaways as part of this blog hop. When you visit each blog, make sure that you comment with your email address. This enters you into the drawing for these grand prizes:

1st Grand Prize: A Kindle Fire or Nook Tablet

2nd Grand Prize: A $130 Amazon or B&N Gift Card

3rd Grand Prize: A Swag Pack

The other blogs can be found here: http://carrieannbloghops.blogspot.com/ 

Anybody else have a summer romance story? Fiction or non-fiction -- feel free to share! I will be giving away a $10 gift card  (Amazon, Barnes & Noble, or Kobo) to one lucky commenter. If you are interested in following me on Facebook or Goodreads, it will give you additional chances towards the gift card. 

Enjoy the blog hop, as well as the last few days of summer!

Spreading Some Sunshine

The lovely Mae Clair recently tagged me to participate in the Sunshine Award, which gives you a chance to learn a little bit more about me. Here's how it works:

• Thank the blogger who nominated you (Thanks, Mae!)
• Post the award icon (Every day should start with flowers, right?)
• Answer the questions below (Which I did)
• Nominate ten other bloggers (I'm going to have to skip this step, unfortunately, since I'm running out of folks who haven't already been nominated!)

Now, on to the questions and my sure-to-be-scintillating answers!

What is your favorite Christmas/festive movie?
I've always loved "White Christmas", with Danny Kaye and Bing Crosby. I love the romance and the banter, and the kooky songs (especially "Sisters", when they wear those big poofy skirts and do their dance routines with those humongous fans).

What is your favorite flower?
Definitely daffodils. No, it's gardenias. Wait. Lilacs. Can I just have a bouquet? Because I also love fuchsias. And peonies. Heck, I just need a full-time gardener, because I have no gardening abilities of my own, other than floral appreciation.

What is your favorite non-alcoholic beverage?
If anyone doesn't know the answer to THIS one. . .LOL Yes, I am a fan of coffee. And it needs to be strong, dark, good, smack-me-in-the-head-to-wake-me-up coffee. Even though coffee is primarily a caffeine-delivery system, I'm still finicky about having the kind I like, which usually means Starbucks.

What is your passion?
Writing is definitely my passion, along with books and reading. I would love to travel more. Come to think of it, I wouldn't mind doing some time travelling too, back to Regency England.

What is your favorite time of year?
Since I used to live where it rained 679 days out of the year, I'm thrilled to reside where there are four distinct seasons. I love the freedom and warm weather of summer, but I also love the spectacular beauty of autumn. I used to like winter a little bit more than I do now. But lately it's gotten greedy and decided its three-month rotation should be expanded to six months. Somebody needs to give winter a good talking to.

What is your favorite time of day?
I am a nightowl. I stay up late, sometimes WAY too late, but it's very natural for me. However, since I am also a confirmed contrarian, I also like the early morning, when it feels like I have the whole world to myself. It's more likely I'll stay up until that time rather than GET up then.

What is your favorite physical activity?
Hey, this has to stay PG-13! Does tweeting count as physical activity? #itshould

What is your favorite vacation?
I love Hawaii, because I'm a tropical girl at heart. And New Orleans has stolen my heart many times, thanks to beignets and pralines and the best food I've ever eaten. But I can be happy anywhere that has sun, and coffee, and interesting things to see and explore, along with a nice hotel room to return to for rest and relaxation. See, I'm not such a diva after all! 

In other news. . .

I have also been nominated for The Booker Award by three more of my fave writer friends -- Angela Quarles, Kate Warren, and Kate Meader -- but since it requires me to list my five favorite books, I have to put a little more thought into that. Five. ONLY five? How is a person supposed to do that?! Until I can figure it out, check out their book choices--there are definitely some good ones there. 

And. . . I have a new post up at Heroes and Heartbreakers, discussing some of my favorite Erotic Romances with Humor. (I can take no credit/blame for the title on the blog post!)

Six Sentence Sunday: Bad Sex Karma #7

After getting dumped by her boyfriend at their anniversary dinner, Delia has moved into a new apartment, and her friends Carly and Brooke are helping her spruce up the place:

"We can finish painting this place in no time," Brooke announced, taking another sip of Riesling.

We were seated on the floor, with several boxes of my prized possessions serving as our cocktail table. Carly had thoughtfully provided cheese and crackers and olives. Very thoughtfully, since if we continued to drink wine without any food, my apartment would look more like Pee Wee’s Playhouse, after a surprise visit by Jackson Pollock.

I looked around at the splashes of paint we’d managed to get on the walls. It was July, so it was hotter than the current teen singing sensation, and so humid it wasn’t likely the paint would dry before Santa’s elves packed up for the season.

Thanks, as always, for your comments. And thanks to everyone who participates in Six Sentence Sunday. It's so enjoyable reading all of the great snippets!

Building a Better Idea Trap

My mind comes up with so much stuff, and I can't always keep up with it. It likes to drive around in the car -- well, just to be clear, *I* am the one doing the driving. . . Anyway, my brain seems to be like a little kid looking at everything outside, jumping up and down with unbridled excitement, telling me what each treasure could be used for.

"See that? That house could be where the heroine lives. Oh, look at that dog. I wonder why he looks tired. Maybe . . .Wow. Those flowers are HUGE."

It's fun, and a little exhausting, mainly because I can't keep track of all of it. You know how a clothes dryer has a lint trap? I need that for all the ideas that have sprouted during a short drive around the neighborhood. It would be great if I could come home, slide the "idea trap" out the side of my head, stick it into the USB port on the laptop, and then download all the good stuff I've collected.

Of course, there's always the fear that I'd drop the thing in my coffee cup.

Right now I'm trying to remember all the brilliant things that popped into my head while I was driving around on my day off, and all I can recollect is that I need to go buy a lemon and some milk, so I can make this rhubarb cake. I bought the rhubarb at the farmstand, but I forgot the other things, and it was probably because I was wondering whether I should open this novella with the hero's point-of-view, or maybe it would be better with the heroine, and is it long enough to be a novella, or should I call it a short story. . .

When I'm at my job, I constantly jot things down on sticky notes. It can be tidbits my brain is trying to get me to remember the next time I'm sitting in front of the laptop looking at the WIP, or sometimes it will be ideas for a blog post.

I'm always finding these crumpled yellow papers in my pocket or my purse, but half the time I don't know what I meant when I wrote something down. It obviously made sense when I rushed to grab pen and paper to record it.

For instance, I have a sticky note with "Jason" written on it. There's no phone number included (alas) so I can assume this note is meant for writing purposes. I still have no idea what it means. Is it a new story idea? Is it a character name? Is there any end to the possibilities?

It's like a constant mental scavenger hunt around here, deciphering my scratches and scribbles, trying to follow the clues they provide. On the other hand, I'm afraid to throw any of these pearls of wisdom away. What if my brain finally gives me the cipher I need to crack the code. . .only now it's residing in the bottom of the recycle barrel?

I think it's time to build a bigger lint trap.

Six Sentence Sunday: Bad Sex Karma #6

The previous snippets of Bad Sex Karma were from the anniversary dinner where Delia was expecting a marriage proposal, but instead she got dumped by her boyfriend.

In this part, Delia is commiserating with her best friends Carly and Brooke the next morning, explaining how her anniversary had started out with her first-ever bad sex and went downhill from there:

They knew Bradley and I had had five years of wild, passionate, insanely gratifying sex. The kind of sex that makes you think it can only get better with every repetition. The kind that makes you feel bad for all the people in the world who weren’t you.

"Okay, to be perfectly honest, the past year or so there wasn’t really any sex," I admitted. "Remember my last physical? When the doctor asked, 'What do you use for birth control?', I actually said, 'Exhaustion'." 

It's so much fun reading your comments each week, and I truly enjoy reading all the Six Sentence Sunday posts. Happy Sunday!

Finding the Big Picture

I'm working on a novella, one I started a few months ago, and I'm fascinated by how it is making its way into the world.

At the moment it consists of several documents filled with random musings and unconnected scenes and stray thoughts about the plot and character arcs and the black moment. It feels like a big ole pile of raw ingredients that my brain plopped down in front of me, challenging me to turn it into something appetizing. I'm sifting through all of it, intrigued at how one scene has at least a couple different variations. Clearly it's one that has enchanted me from the beginning, and I imagine it will be the setpiece of the whole thing.

Right now it feels like when I'm trying to attack the clutter in a room, wondering how it got that way, and even worse, how it will ever NOT be a big messy sprawling pile of stuff. Some days I wish there was a different way for my stories to come into existence. It would take the sport out of it, I suppose, because I kind of like digging through and seeing what my brain has conjured up.

It's like going through boxes of stuff I've accumulated over the years, determined to pare it down, but then I get distracted with, "Oh! I remember this!" Next thing I know I'm reading a book I forgot I had, or glancing through pictures that I thought were lost. I gather all of it together and realize I've completely missed my original goal of "organizing", but I've had a heck of a great time traipsing down memory lane.

Writing my stories can be like that, too, when I come back to them after having set them aside for a while. I'm excited to read what I've written because it feels brand-new to me. I'm glad I recorded what my characters said, because I love seeing how sexy and clever they are, especially when at the time I thought they were being bratty and uncooperative.

To an outsider, my writing method may seem sloppy or unproductive, and I would think the same if I wasn't the one involved in it. Heck, I feel that way too when it feels like I'm trying to hold onto all these ideas and story threads and it would be easier to do just about anything but make sense of all of it. But I have to admit I like all these random bits and bobs and the potential they possess, but I really like when I can finally see the big picture and how it all fits together.

Sometimes a story has to be condensed down into a smaller pile, from the bigger pile it started out as, and then I polish that smaller pile until it is an actual story with scenes and chapters that make sense. In the process, a lot gets thrown aside, but it's never wasted. It's kind of like calisthenics for my brain I think. It needs to stretch and warmup and try out different ideas and then I have to decide which muscle group we're working on for the day.

So it may start out as a big gooey unmanageable mess. And every time I swear it's the last time I'm going to write anything ever again. But then I see its smiling face when it's all cleaned up and polished to perfection, and I forget that it made me question my sanity in the process.

It's always worth it.

Six Sentence Sunday: Bad Sex Karma #5

After being dumped by her boyfriend at their anniversary dinner, Delia is getting some payback. Her now ex-boyfriend asks why she keeps ordering expensive items (like the $200 bottle of Cabernet), since she's not really consuming them. She innocently asks what he's talking about, and he replies:

"This." 

He meant to gesture expansively, but his anger hampered his swing. He knocked the wine bottle off balance, and we both watched as it teetered, heading for the floor. Bradley jumped out of his chair, grabbing the bottle just in time, although he knocked over his water glass in the process. He sat back down, breathing heavily, clutching the bottle like it contained a genie with the last of his three wishes. 

No way was I going to tell him about the wet spot in the front of his trousers. 

Thanks for your comments. I'm glad you've been enjoying this story. I'm off now to read yours! Here's a quick link to the Six Sentence Sunday site.

Also, I was interviewed this week by Mae Clair, a fellow Sixer, so if you haven't had a chance to stop by, click here.

I've Been Reviewed and Interviewed

This has been a fun week to be a writer!

I received a wonderful review for Lord Midnight from Bridget at The Romance Reviews. It's so beautifully written, and it actually gave me some new insights into my own characters. It was definitely a treat to read (and re-read!)

And today I'm being interviewed by author Mae Clair, who has an intriguing book titled Weathering Rock coming out October 8th. There's a yummy hero named Caleb who time travels from the Civil War era, and is also a werewolf. I've gotten to "know" Mae from reading her Six Sentence Sunday snippets and she's a delightful writer. She's also an amazing interviewer. So stop by and see her skills in action!

I also received some fun things from Crimson Romance: an author questionnaire and a cover art information sheet. So I'm going to be looking through I Do. . .or Die to get all the pertinent details about Shelby and Ryan, as well as their stomping grounds. I want to make sure it's as accurate as possible so the cover can reflect them and their fun and crazy world. The author questionnaire? That will be easy. Heck, that's why I write fiction! 

Mommie Deerest

Yesterday I was tapping away at the keyboard, and I glanced out the window, which everyone knows is an essential part of the writing/brainstorming process. I saw a mommy deer walking past the driveway, followed by two baby deer. The baby deer were adorable, as you would expect, and they were actually frolicking, obviously happy to be outside on such a nice day and getting to play.

I jumped up to get my camera. I had recently charged the battery so I not only knew where the camera was, but that it was good to go.

By the time I got it, though, the deer had moved far enough away that I couldn't get their picture through the window. I decided to go outside, around the house, and take a picture that way.

I guess my stealthy movements weren't all that stealthy, because as soon as I came into view, the mom's head came up and she stared at me. If anybody had that "deer in the headlights" look, it was ME. Even though I was easily 50 feet away, I could see she considered me a bit of a threat.

I held up my camera and managed one click. I have no idea what I took a picture of though, because all of a sudden I noticed Mommie Deerest's lips were moving. Until then I'd never realized deer had lips that could move.

Clearly she was muttering something under her breath. It wasn't likely she was admiring my summer writing ensemble, or my budding wildlife photography skills.

That's when I realized I had two other skills that were more important in that moment: 1) surviving, and 2) writing about the encounter, assuming she didn't run faster than I did and took a chomp out of me first.

I raced back around the house, hoping she didn't feel the urge to jump over the stone fence, which I knew she could do as easily as I lift my coffee cup. Once I was safely inside my writer's lair, she and her babies were gone, probably off to the next stop on their neighborhood tour. I counted my increased heart rate as my daily exercise and then, as any writer would, I began to ponder what she was saying to her babies when I saw her lips moving in such a menacing fashion.

I'm guessing it was this: "Hey, kids. Wanna see a human turn into a blur?"

Six Sentence Sunday: Bad Sex Karma #4

After Delia has been dumped by her boyfriend during their anniversary dinner, she decides to exact a little revenge on him--by hitting the tightwad in his wallet, with a succession of expensive items. She starts with a very expensive bottle of wine suggested by the sommelier: 

I smiled through the rhapsodic description of the Napa Valley cabernet's merits, even though I was unable to concentrate on anything but Bradley's betrayal. When the wine splashed into the glass, it was a beautiful dark ruby hue, the exact color of my battered heart. I swirled the glass and gave the contents a quick sniff before taking a sip, rolling the rich liquid around my mouth. 

It tasted like heartache, with overtones of treachery, and a pronounced finish of despair and hopelessness. If I didn't know better, I'd swear the wine had been crafted to commemorate the moment my world disintegrated, thanks to Bradley.

"It's perfect," I announced around the lump in my throat.

If you want to read the previous installments for this book, I've got them right here: 

Part 1    Part 2    Part 3 

Thanks to everyone who stops by each week. I treasure your comments, and I love reading what you post every Sunday.