A New Old Kind of Hero

I’ve completly scrapped what I had written for my Steampunk romance. It finally dawned on me that I was missing the punk, and writing a time travel. This stuff isn’t easy for a 50 year old, trust me. But now I’m excited, and totally looking forward to something that will let my mind wander down sepia-toned streets. How cool is this writing stuff when…well, it feels cool.

100 pages, here I come. And this guy, not my hero, is a secondary character.

Win This Book! LOVE’S POTION by Monica Jackson

(I will buy a copy of this book for one lucky person who comments before the end of May on this review). Monica’s titles are described at her website.

I’ll get this out of the way up front. I offer to buy and review books here, and hardly anyone takes me up on it (hey, I’m not the greatest reviewer, I admit it). Ms. Jackson took me up on it, because we’ve had conversations about the great racial “divide” in the romance community. I really don’t feel the need to go into it further, except to say I can’t figure out who wouldn’t love this book (okay, my husband wouldn’t, but you know what I mean). Please don’t read anything very heavy into that statement. I’ll say it again. I loved this book. I think you will too, whoever you are.

This is a contemporary paranormal erotic romance hidden under a chick-lit cover, with a beginning that smacks of a short work. But that short somewhat fluffy work builds and builds until the cork just blows off the bottle. Somewhere half way through, you realize that this quirky, lovable heroine, Jasmine, just might be in for something big. And the reader realizes it slowly with her.

Jasmine, a CPA and fish-out-of-water in Manhattan, is lonely, fairly normal, sad, smart, and very funny. So when she buys a pretty little bottle with a genie inside, one imagines that chick-lit wackiness will ensue. It does. His name is Raziq, he’s gorgeous, and he’s ready to grant a wish. Right away, page 2, I’m sure I know what this book is about. “Jasmine had always known that a for-real horror film couldn’t have black folk in it because as soon as the freaky stuff started, that was when any sensible brother or sister would hit the door.” The clever part about this funny, somewhat stereotypical schtick, is that the freaky stuff does start, and the black folk are right in the middle of it, saving our belief in happy-ever-afters, as well as saving all our butts. But that comes later.

Did I mention Raziq is really adorable? A sad, tortured Djinn, a lonely hunk with a sense of humor? I could see Jasmine’s wish coming a mile away, and you might too, and feel very clever about it. But Ms. Jackson doesn’t pull plot punches, and things go very freaky for our couple. Demons and good vs. evil stuff. Love’s Potion takes on aspects of horror, always laced in humor and romance. It’s a mix I’ve not read much, and she makes it work exceptionally well. The sex is hot, the love is believable, and the characters are strong and very well balanced. But the true genius in the genie story is Ms. Jackson’s voice. What is a voice? I heard it described recently as personality. The personality of this book is wonderful, true and vibrant. And damn it, I cried at one point. Okay, so there’s a “mom” bit tied into this book, and that’s a hot emotional button for me these days. But it’s hard for books to make me tear up.

Jasmine is as memorable as any romance heroine I’ve read recently. I wish I knew her in three dimensions. I look forward very, very much to more of Ms. Jackson’s work. Since she gave me this one, I will buy a copy and you can have a chance to win it, here!

I have to say it was a good day…yeayah

Cool review for MAYAN SECRETS on Jennifer Leeland/MacKenzie’s blog today! In part, she said: This is a hot romance, a terrific action story and a tight, well executed plot. Ms. Cullen drew me in and wouldn’t let me go. I read this story in one sitting, staying up until midnight to read it.
It’s brilliant, fascinating and satisfying in all the ways that matter.
The full review is here. The book is here.
Thanks, Jen!!!

mah grate novul ar not finushed

moar funny pictures

I’m not so…online. Correction–I’m reading more than posting, which is probably a good thing for the romance community. Lurking. Thinking that a lot of writers I used to know rather well have moved onto…well, writing I guess. My yahoo group is floundering (as are many I think). My blog is rarely visited (by anyone, including me). My books aren’t reviewed as quickly. There are so many out there, I tell myself. The epublishing community is a very, very different animal than it was a few years ago. It’s sprouted wings and horns and scales and other appendages I can’t describe.

I got kicked off one loop, I guess cause I don’t write for that company any more. That makes sense.

I’ve a novella off in a slushpile. Two WIPs that I stare at once in a while. Not quite right. One is a fantasy romance, one is a steampunk romance. They are both long (well, not yet). I’ve hit this wall so many times it’s astounding it’s still standing. And that I haven’t cracked my skull yet.

From far away, as if in a dream, I feel the pull to write something, somehow. Something I didn’t know I was capable of. And of course, this is probably what every writer feels. That they have “the” book in them. Do I? I know how to avoid finding out, for I’ve done that for a few years now. Permission to be free? Almost. Almost ready to write without borders, to color outside the lines.

What is your dream project?

Key West Magic Joyfully Reviewed!

Here’s a lovely review from Jo at Joyfully Reviewed. I love that she liked the “feel” of the book. This is one of my personal favorites! Thanks, Jo!

“Key West Magic brings together two people who have been hurt in the past. Because of this, neither Julie or Trent look for anything that might last long. Julie doesn’t really think much of magic prior to Key West and Trent, but she cannot deny the magic between them. Reading about Trent and Julie’s pasts had me wondering about their future. I fell in love with the Calloway house and especially the ghost Emily. Watching Trent try and fight his demons and Julie begin to believe in magic made Key West Magic a more than gripping story. The passion and sensual feeling that runs throughout just adds to it. If paranormals with a bit of a twist interest you, then you really should check out Key West Magic. Not to let anything out, but the epilogue has put me on the watch for the next book dealing with the Light family.”

Huh? You bought me as your what?

“I bought you as my pet. See how much I think you’re worth.” Huh? You did not. Aw, shucks.

I’m really out of it, and increasingly, I want to be out of it. I don’t want to know what’s on your Shelfari or whatever, how much you bought me for, what my crush IQ is, or what kind of vampire I am.

I just got used to Myspace. Then I hear about Facebook. Uh-uh. Not even close to considering that. Because as soon as I get used to that, it will be Worldbook or Spacebook or Theirspace.

I’m supposed to hate Blogger and like WordPress, but I can’t find the energy to. I like ebooks–isn’t that enough? I like the instant gratification–the ease, the price. I’m in search of more time, not more things to do.

Are you spending your days wisely? If you’re having fun, then maybe you are. But I’m gonna try harder, and I know it doesn’t involve buying someone as my pet. I have four books in various stages of doneness. Got to go–someone’s sending me photos on my phone. Gawd.

Indy!

I was never supposed to like Indiana Jones, and his treasure-hunting ways. Cause real archaeologists don’t treasure hunt, they do archaeology. Hrumph. How way cool were the first three movies, though, especially the first? They tapped into that adventurer within each of us. Indiana Jones, the anti-superhero with a bullwhip instead of a cape. Sigh.

But now Harrison Ford is old-er. And in interviews, he’s a bit odd, don’t you think. I’m worried about this movie. But nothing will stop me from going, and ordering the big popcorn with butter-flavored artery clogging slime. And extra salt.

I was a practicing archaeologist (never got it quite right), but I wrote two books–Mayan Nights and Mayan Secrets, more because of Indiana Jones than because of grad school.

Better than my books is the You-Tube vid above.

Steampunk! How cool is the James Gang?

Just when I think I can’t go on with my steampunk romance, something crops up to inspire. These guys inspire me. I WILL finish this book. Only 90K to go….

Two Days and a Few Hours and Why I Hate RT and You Can’t Make Me Want to Go

They put me to sleep today, just for a half hour or so. It’s something I do because I have to. It’s called a colonoscopy, and if you are 50 and haven’t had one, well, shame on you. They’re fun! Okay, so the results today were fun. I’m clear for a year, which is the best I’ve done in a long time.

It was a very weird few days though. I rushed home from work on my anniversary yesterday to open an incredible gift from my husband. He has a passion for good handbags. I don’t delve too deeply into that one, I just take them when offered. We had our celebration the night before.

So, once the agony of preparation began (I won’t get explicate), and the worst was over, I turned to a book. An old Janet Evanovich book. This one, in fact, recently rereleased because she can get away with that now.

Let me tell you, this book rescued me. I thought I was starting to hate romances. I forgot that there are books out there in which the POV changes every other paragraph and it’s not disruptive because the writer is good. Sure, Janet got better, snappier, quirkier. But this is funny and heartwarming and just a good romance. Why did I start to hate romances? Why did I forget the huge pile of Nora and E. Lowell in my closet?

Because I got swept into the world of urban, dark, weres and vamps, blah blah blah blah freaking blah. So much of what I’ve picked up in the last few years is so dreary. And I read this stuff because it’s what I’ve aspired to write. But it’s not what I enjoy. Anyway, I won’t go down that tired path again.

I did, however, remember that the reason these fine ladies have long, solid careers is because they are above trends, or they set them. They aren’t chasing a moving target. They are writing what they want to write, and they’re doing it with skill and grace.

Cut to RT (at least what I hear–the positive and negative, nicely summarized recently at Dear Author). I do NOT belong there. I don’t think I belong at EC at all. I don’t like oiled male strippers, and I don’t want anyone touching me, and I just don’t, you know? I know saying things like that is the kiss of death, but if you’ve already decided to become a vegetarian, insulting the butcher isn’t really going to ruin your life, you know?

I love my writer friends, especially the Divas, who can wear lampshades on their heads and drink to all hours and get tattoos and stuff. I love them. But I’m not one of them. The Divas tolerate me, however, and I’m really grateful for that.

I will never be a Nora or a Janet Evanovich. But those folks are my models of writing, behavior, and humor.

So as I went into the colonoscopy center this morning, a woman who was also waiting was reading the same book. Naughty Neighbor. I asked her what she thought. Funny, she said. I really like this. I asked her if she read any erotic romances, and she replied that she wasn’t really sure what those are. But she liked the cute pig on the cover, which is actually why I bought the book.

I was woken from my nap today by three rather stunned looking maintenance guys who were there to replace our apartment’s air conditioners. They had knocked and rang, but I was out cold. I was in bed, they were all beefy and mechanical. In my semi-doped state, all I could say was not to let the cat out. I stumbled out of bed, and curled up on the couch while they did their manly stuff. With my book. And one of the guys pointed to “Naughty Neighbor” and said his wife read that book. “She reads all that stuff.” I wanted to ask more, but I didn’t think he’d get it. And it might sound a bit like a come on.

And that’s my two days.

Happy Anniversary, Husband. I Would Do It Again in a Heartbeat.

Meeting at night

THE gray sea and the long black land;
And the yellow half-moon large and low;
And the startled little waves that leap
In fiery ringlets from their sleep,
As I gain the cove with pushing prow,
And quench its speed i’ the slushy sand.

Then a mile of warm sea-scented beach;
Three fields to cross till a farm appears;
A tap at the pane, the quick sharp scratch
And blue spurt of a lighted match,
And a voice less loud, through its joys and fears,
Than the two hearts beating each to each!

Robert Browning