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Saturday, October 29, 2011

some 99 cent titles by me

A bunch of my titles are el cheapo! It'll cost less than a dollar to buy one of these Summer Devon/Kate Rothwell books. Cheaper than a tiny cup o' coffee. Less than a candy bar (well, some candy bars).

A romantic novella set in the 1880s
Strong-willed Miss Mary Dunaway had a plan for her future and she would stop at nothing to reach her goal of working with the poor in London. She was even willing to ask a gentleman, a stranger, to help her.

Twelve years later, the same gentleman reappears in her life. Although he doesn't seem to recall her, she remembers every detail of the kisses they shared. The attractive Lord Fellington apparently sees her as the saintly, nun-like matron of the foundling asylum. Very well, she made her bed and now she lies in it, alone. 

That guy you glanced at…the one you thought was so gorgeous. What do you do when you’re suddenly seeing what he’s seeing, feeling what he’s feeling, and it’s all hot, sweaty and very R-rated?

Gia’s life takes a turn for the bizarre when she develops a connection with construction worker Will, and the connection is all sexual. Not only can she see and sense his fantasies, he can visit hers too. And for two strangers, they begin to have some pretty intimate daydreams about each other. Anger, and concern about the sudden onset of shared insanity, are thrust to the wayside when Gia and Will finally meet and find that even outside the fantasies, they can’t keep their hands off each other.

Some kind of weird lust is driving them—to mutually orgasmic results. While Gia’s loving it, Will just wants a normal life, but soon realizes they might never turn down the heat and return to normal again. And craziness aside, does he really want the “cure” if it means losing Gia?

Time-travel agent Collins is preparing for a routine assignment to the past when rebels kill his commander and force him back in time, unprepared. With no sex-suppression drugs and incomplete training, he's stranded in a strange old world.

Candy was almost resigned to her humdrum life until a man in a strange black get-up dropped onto her park bench. If he wasn't gorgeous, and wounded, she might listen to her common sense and run. But curiosity and kindness have always been her weaknesses, and the fact that this guy rouses her long-dormant libido doesn't hurt, either.

Overwhelmed by the novel sensation of lust, Collins can't resist Candy's sensual sweetness. But every fevered joining of their bodies breaks the stringent laws to which he's sworn allegiance. Being trapped in the past is bad enough. Committing carnal crimes with an irresistible 21st century indigenous could destroy his future—and hers.

Bryan has a problem most men would envy. He's irresistible to women. A laboratory experiment gone awry cranks Bryan's pheromones into overdrive and females flock to him like moths to a flame. Escaping droves of desperate women is only one of his worries. Thugs from the lab are after him, eager to recapture the million-dollar essence he exudes. His only hope is to find the "perfect" woman. Sleeping with her will turn off his pheromone factory.

Waitress Allie slings hash and laughs with customers at a roadside diner. Resigned to life without a man after suffering heartbreak too often, Allie is shocked when a mysterious man jolts her libido awake with just a glance and a touch. A quick tumble seems an innocent indulgence—until black-suited men show up in pursuit of Bryan. Tangled in the intrigue, Allie finds herself tied to Bryan by more than erotic fun. The pursuit of perfection leads them down new paths of pleasure, but curing Bryan could spell the end of their adventure.

When Bonnie spurns the sexual advances of a real creep, she suddenly finds herself invisible to any man she finds attractive. She soon learns that the creepy man she turned down is also an amateur sorcerer who has placed an invisibility curse on her. Now he's threatening to make it permanent unless she agrees to spy on his boss, a man Bonnie finds irresistible. She just can't keep her hands from exploring his sexy body!

At first Jared thinks he's going crazy. He knows he's embracing a delicious female but he doesn't know if the invisible being is an actual woman or ghost. When things heat up between Jared and Bonnie, they find a way to communicate. Now they have to figure out how to thwart Jared's enemy or Jared will never get a good look at the woman he's felt…all over.



Thursday, October 27, 2011

Linda and I are visiting Marie Treanor's blog today

It's shapeshifter week at Marie's place. Go on over and comment today and you might win a copy of our book. I know, everyone and her uncle is doing book give-aways, but seriously. Do this anyway. Do it for the kids. **

Speaking of those kids, last night I posted a comment on facebook that has gotten immediate and heartfelt responses--a lot of disbelief from readers, too.
Stop the presses; stop all of the presses everywhere. No, this is not a false alarm--it is the real news deal. One of my kids, one of my boys, put a fresh roll of toilet paper on the roller without being asked. AND he threw the old cardboard tube IN THE TRASH. You all carry on with your lives. I'll be over in the corner of the bathroom, gazing at the miracle, weeping with joy.

Kind of amazing how much snark it has raised.  Ha, ha, ha.

Wait. Not really. The disbelief and snark in the responses make perfect sense.

So does my enormous pride.




______
**Every new year's eve, my sister would pick a theme for a year. "Doin' it for the kids" was my favorite.

Wednesday, October 26, 2011

Yay! Look! It's in PRINT

I asked people (mostly fellow writers) what sort of contest should I hold for this book going into print. The conversation never got past the Is It The Worst Cover Ever? And then I learned that some people -- sane, happy, clever, intelligent people** -- really love the cover****  Hmm.

I'm basically informing readers who like my book('s cover) that they're goofballs. Okay, we can all agree that's not a good idea. And just because I think butt-genie when I see it, doesn't mean there isn't room in the world for butt-genies. It's certainly a nice enough butt, though it does make me wonder about a man who would wear a hard-hat and nothing. . . .  

All right already. Jeez. Can we please get past the cover? I really like this story, got it? It didn't go over well with Sarah at SBTB (my take-away quote from her review is something like "the story isn't as bad as the cover.") But I really, really like the story. I had fun writing it and I got a big kick out of the nasty old guy who cursed people and the strange, almost-like-us-world where curses aren't entirely weird.

BOTTOM LINE [heh, bottom]: Go buy this book, now. The ebook version is LESS THAN ONE DOLLAR!! The print copy is a lot more but then you get that cover, suitable for framing.

I'm going to order a few print copies to give away. Be on alert. You can may get one of these in your mailbox!

(That doesn't look quite right. On the other hand, this could inspire my best contest ever: a kind of "nice bookshelf you got here, lady. Would be a shame if anything happened to it." event. It would be a "enter this contest or a copy of this book might show up on your doorstep.") 

_________
**people who read my books

**** I just hope some book sellers are among
1. the ranks of the book's admirers
or
2. get really tipsy before they put in their orders and are in the mood for major snark-giggling.


Monday, October 24, 2011

sbd I meet a wall banger

Maybe it's the perpetual state of annoyance in which I'm currently inhabiting. . .
I met a book that pissed me off.

I tend to stick with books, even the ones that annoy me. Lots of people point out that life is too short for bad books. They're right of course, but I can read all sorts of books that only show a spark of life because somewhere along the line I lost the ability to get annoyed.

And then I met Emily Giffen's Something Borrowed. I probably should stick with it for a little while longer just to see if I can get past this stuff, but at the moment, I want to stomp on it and throw it against the wall and then rip it into shreds.


Is it badly written? Not at all. Is there a dead baby? Nope (thank goodness I've gotten past the dead baby prohibition. When my guys were little, I Could. Not. Bear. Them.) Dead animal? No. Gratuitous rape? No. Obvious deus ex machina? Not so far.

It is the Best Friend Diss.

I'm not exactly a loyal-through-the-years friend. I don't hold tight the way I should. But nor do I whine and kvetch about my friends, except sometimes. But this character, the narrator of the book, not only does she feel competitive with the person she calls her "best friend" not only does she seem to go out of her way to see the bad side of this person she's "loved" for years. SHE BOFF HER BEST FRIEND'S FIANCE ALL NIGHT. Okay, okay, human. Things happen. This is what goes on with human beings. But her response is "oh god I'll get caught." When her friend calls up, frantically wondering where her fiance could have vanished to, does the main character feel awful that her friend spent the night wild with fear? Nope. Still hoping she didn't get caught.  Her best friend is someone whose supposed to matter to her. This is an immutable fact.

Turns out it's a RULE, written in stone. I can forgive a character who'll lie cheat steal and even maybe murder now and then. Or get unreasonably mad, even with her best friend. But what the hell? Why does she play the role of passive aggressive in the relationship with HER BEST FRIEND? 

That "oh no gonna get caught" in the face of her friend's misery was about the time I decided I was done with that story and it was only a couple of chapters in.

I had nearly the same response with the Kitty Norville book. This is about a werewolf (strike one) who single-handedly decides to out the supernatural world. Because she's thought the matter through and decides that it's best? That would be bad enough because she'd believe she has the right to decide the fate of her fellow supernatural types. No, she outs them all to save the ratings on her radio show.Yes, I know it's a fluffy little book with cutesy dialog (all cutesy-smart-snark is on her part, naturally) but even fluff deserves decent non-brain-dead characters

The wall-banging moment came for me right after her best friend has killed for her. He now has to run away from human society, abandon his life, live in the hills. Does she think, "god, I'm so grateful you saved my life and I'm going to worry about you night and day."

No. She gets mad at him and says "no need for that" even though it's clear she was losing the fight. And then, after she forgives him for murdering for her and saving her skin, she says "what am I going to do without you?" not "how are you going to survive?" It's all about her.

Gah. Grr. I stuck with that book though and decided overall it's pretty good. A few of those The World is All About Kitty moments but basically it was all right.

I don't require Mary Balogh self-sacrificing types. I don't mind if someone acts selfishly--as long as there's either self-awareness or clearly some awareness on the author's part. But these characters tend not to even regard other people as fully human or only in terms of What Can You Do for ME? They're all in first person narratives too. Eh, I'm done with that.

Anyway if I wanted to read about disloyal, cowardly or despicable characters, I'd read literary fiction, thank you. Then at least those people tend to be interesting.



Wednesday, October 19, 2011

Anachronisms.

Which word is older, "okay" or "hallway"? How about "kibosh" or "string quartet"? Do you use the word "hello" correctly in your historical writing? I wrote an article about words that are newer than you thought (okay, than I thought) and words that are older than you'd (I'd) guess.

The article is over at Leah Braemel's blog.  Go read it, comment and you can win an ebook. Go on! So far, your chances of winning are 100 percent!! (as in, no one's commented yet.)

Monday, October 17, 2011

I can't stop reading Sookie Stackhouse books

Curse you, Harris! Curse you, library! Curse you, Kindle! I had been warned. They're like peanuts--no, those have nutritional value. They're like cheeze puffs. Eating one just leaves you wanting more and more.

I thought I don't like vampire books. I'm sick of the undead. No way will I be drawn in. I forgot I'm an addictive personality when it comes to cake, coffee and books. I will consume all there is until there is no more.

I eat and read quickly. munch munch munch.  These are easy, fluffy and reasonably fun.

I have to say that the Sookie of the first book was the best part. She was interesting and upbeat even with her meh life. Lately (I'm on book five) she's turned into a standard sort of heroine you find in these books, although the way she smiles when she's frightened is kind of nonstandard.

Pretty? check
Men falling all over her? yes (though they do seem able to exist outside her sphere. The one terribly dependent one was only terribly dependent for a little while then snapped out of it-- and we were relieved when he got back to normal)
Kick-ass? Fairly--and more so with each book.

I have to see if the library has book six. I can't afford to buy these on Kindle. AND here's the interesting thing. Some of them are cheaper in paperback than in ebook. NONE of them are cheaper in Kindle form, which shows that, yeah, Kindle's sliding into first place. Supply and demand, baby.


Wednesday, October 12, 2011

The Nobleman and the Spy giveaway

HEY LOOKIT! Our book is out in print, so we can give away copies. Go on, click the link; it's easy to get one.

Goodreads Book Giveaway

The Nobleman and the Spy by Bonnie Dee

The Nobleman and the Spy

by Bonnie Dee

Giveaway ends October 22, 2011.
See the giveaway details at Goodreads.
Enter to win

Tuesday, October 11, 2011

stuff


My aunt died last night. Other people, the ones who knew her well, will have more to say and I'll shut up and listen. What I knew is I loved her house and she had the best taste in the family. Unerringly perfect taste. When we were young, her kids talked to her as if she was stupid. When I tried to talk to my mom like that it didn't work. 

She wasn't stupid, not by a long shot.  After the kids grew up, she went back to law school, became a public defender and was a hot ticket. And then, after she retired, she went to work with kids. Page four of this link has a short interview with her. See? This is a death that diminishes the world.

My life isn't affected much, so no need to express sympathy. Too bad I'll never see her house or clothes again or hear her express her blunt opinions which were sometimes odd,  but often held great zingers.

Mostly when I think about her, I think of her house, which shows up in a bunch of my dreams. Most of those dreams are me, sitting with her on the porch facing the ocean, explaining why this time it's not really a dream and I'm really there with her. Usually in the dream, she's fairly grouchy about me being there. Right. If I apparently mourn the house more than the woman, I don't require a pat on the shoulder.

This is the last of my past, drifting away, into the ocean vanishing into an impossible-to-reach horizon. I am just another one of the 99 percent waving from the shore.





Sunday, October 09, 2011

Top Vac

In a house full of males (four of them), I spend some time trying to lure them into some appreciation of housework. Since I'm uninspired by the work myself, I'm no great shakes at getting them to help without boatloads of whining on all of our parts. But as I vacuumed just now, I realized I've gone about this ALL WRONG.

In fact, the whole world has approached this without the edgy verve and lust that men can give inanimate objects. Time to inject some testosterone into the world of vacs.

I propose that vacuums---henceforth only known as vacs because that sounds sort of like a Three Letter Acronym and we all know how men respond to them--anyway, all vacs must be seen as sleek beauties. They need to be sexxed up. There should be talk about horsepower and the joy of a good run (session?) with the vac.

Someone needs to produce a whole show, a la Top Gear. There's be backlighting, classical music, and slo-mo footage as the Vac of the Week is brought in, and some British guy's voice goes on and on about its features that make it a "monstrous choice" and "the only one out there with [some numbers and random facts thrown in]"

Clearly guys like Mr. Dyson would be the Shits! He'd be an honored pioneer and the studio would feature at least one signed, life-sized poster portraying him standing, arms folded, head back glaring out at the live audience--which would have to include at least a few guys with no shirts (every notice how there are pretty women at the front of the Top Gear crowd?) and sporting tattoos of classical vacs on their upper arms.

The show would consist of segments, including interviews with vacuum crank/experts ("electrolux is the only worthwhile choice") arguing with other crank/experts ("electrolux hasn't produced anything worth looking at since [insert model name, preferably with lots of numbers and some random letters] version in 1976.") It would have to get passionate and insulting. ("Jesus, you'd be better off with a broom, you wanker!") There's be a comic relief as part of the argument, say a clueless guy who doesn't even know how to turn on a vac and has had a cleaning service forever.

There'd be the funny vac-off segment with challenges that a regular vacuum cleaner would never face--maybe a bed of nails--all filmed from a low angle so the machines look like scary-ass destructive devices.  We'd realized that all vacs are towering powerful erect growling scary PENISES that would take on anything in their paths and WIN.

Vacs would have to become slightly more dangerous. Maybe gasoline could be introduced? or the really powerful ones could have flames shooting out the back? Only professionals can operate them.

The three guys, regular blokes, would have to build their own vacs, then pretend to be door to door salesmen selling them. And of course there'd be long pretentious essays about the history of vacuums and how far we've come/how we've lost the soul of the first machines--depending on whether it's the old fogey or the young up-and-comer making the argument.

Anyway. That's what I was just planning out because my MP3 player is broken so it was just me and my MACHINE at work.

Friday, October 07, 2011

put a sock in it, Rothwell

I was watching the ad for dog food--the one where the dogs wear protest signs around their necks. I clearly don't watch enough television because I paid close attention. There's that sign around some dog's neck that says "Ban by-products" oh, whoa, no, no, no

WTF? Huh? Dogs freaking love by-products. Hey, no, I'm serious here. Give them a choice between a steaming pile of guts and a pile of the green veggies they're showing in that ad and . . . well, damn. Why the hell don't dog owners notice that their dogs are essentially disgusting creatures and perfectly fine that way? How come those people got to force the dogs to abandon by-products when their happiest dreams consist of rolling in partially rotted animal bits?

I was ranting out loud, for God's sake. Complaining to the snoozing dog about an ad for dog food.

That's when I understood I needed to get out of the house, and maybe fetch a life from somewhere.

So now I'm at La Paloma, loading books onto review sites, sighing about my lack of sales, listening into conversations. BUT I AM NOT TALKING TO MYSELF or the dog.

It was a close call.

Some day I'll go too far. A couple of cats, maybe a few packages of cheetos -- either way I would have tipped over some serious edge. I can't count on you online people to fetch me back anymore--you're like the kids. You never write, you never call. It's just me, the dog, and a mute button that doesn't work on the TV remote.


Tuesday, October 04, 2011

Just when I was about to fret . . .

. . . it turns out Claws on Silk is now available on Amazon. 
Check out the interview with me over at All Romance Ebooks. My elongated face is my fault. They told me what size they wanted and I didn't check carefully enough. That photo doesn't look like me anyway. It's six years old and it has been a long six years--for my face anyway.

In other news, I missed SBD. I should go visit Rachel's place to talk about Frankie, because I love Frankie but I haven't yet. I read all the Naomi Noviks way too quickly and now my arms are tired from flying around Europe, China and Australia. The battles blended together and Laurence started to get on my nerves (although I think he's finally figured out that he's adhering to a system that will never appreciate him or his best friend. And might not be the best of all possible worlds after all.)

I really should learn to space out books in a series better, but . .  . oh well.  I eat too fast too.

Monday, October 03, 2011

A human hamster video

from the Vermont wedding. With music! And big, big balls!


movie and games by Andy

Saturday, October 01, 2011

Open your mouth, gift horse.

A really nice review for Gentleman and Rogue. 

Except now I'd like a review or two for Claws on Silk or Seducing Miss Dunaway or some other title.

I'd also like all these people--the ones I begged to come home, the people I missed so much--to stop taking up so much space and air.

AND while I'm working on that sort of yes, yes, no, no thing, I want my present again--the lovely gift that I got for my birthday and then returned because it was too expensive for a toy. (A tablet.)

I swear to god, I don't know if it's harder being me or living with me. I'm currently rife with first world white lady problems. I suppose we should all be grateful I'm not whining about my manicure. (I don't have one so I have to put that subject on hold for now.)

And now that I've finished the Naomi Novik series, I want another book or ten that'll grab me like that. She's going on the list of autobuys none of whom are putting out books at the moment. Briggs? Bourne? Farr? Butler? Harrison? Tick, tick, ladies and gentlemen, my current strong sense of "I Deserve _____ Because I Returned My Gift" is going to dwindle soon. I'd like a few of your books before I turn back into my usual miserly self.