Wednesday, May 30, 2012

Discover a New Love--Have you heard about the new romance ebook Book Club?

Even if you have, it bears repeating. :} If you're an avid romance reader, you can save money, discover new authors, and connect with many of your favorites! Sourcebooks' new ebook club offers so much to readers! There's events and parties and many ways to connect with other readers and authors. What's especially exciting for me is that The Lord of Illusion is a featured book. I'm in fine company with Catherine Mann, Shana Galen, and Terry Spear! You can check us out here:

And the Discover a New Love's home page is here:

My Magical Best,

Tuesday, May 29, 2012

Irish Spring

By Cheryl Brooks
This has been a very busy spring, and since I returned from Ireland about a week ago, I haven't had much time to breathe. Edits for Wildcat arrived on Friday, and I've been either working on them or at the hospital ever since.

Therefore, it should come as no surprise that I forgot about today's blog post until a thunderstorm woke me up this morning. However, I have plenty of pictures to make up for the lack of creative writing.The tough part will be deciding which pictures to post.

We arrived in Ireland on Mother's Day and had lunch at Durty Nelly's.

Visited Bunratty Castle which was right next door.

Strolled through the Folk park.

Crossed the drawbridge.

Climbed to the very top turret to enjoy the view.

Then we drove on through County Kerry to the Sneem Hotel where we stayed, snapping pictures along the way.

On Monday, we sampled Irish moonshine at Molly Gallivan's near Druids View, where I also bought this  wonderful Irish sweater.

And then took a boat ride to Garnish Island to explore the gardens there. 

Ireland is a fabulous place where rhododendrons and fuchsias grow like weeds.

Where you might stumble across a stone temple...

...with an incredible view.

Where the sky and the water are both blue...

 and even the sheep go to church.

On Tuesday, we took a drive through the Black Valley

And visited the beehive huts.

Then it was on to the Slea Head drive to see the sights.

On Wednesday, I went for a ride on Derrynane Beach,

stopped off to enjoy another amazing view of the bay, 

and climbed the walls at Staigue Fort.

We started Thursday with a full Irish breakfast, and I ate it all, including the black pudding.

Visited Cahergall Stone fort.

Drove up to the peak on Valentia Island to see the view.

Then walked around to the other side to see the Fogher Cliffs.

 We stopped off at an ancient priory,

and hung out with Charlie Chaplin in Waterville.

On Friday, we visited Blarney Castle,

took a walk around the grounds...

before climbing the spiral stairs to kiss the Blarney Stone.

We strolled through the park to Blarney House,

and then went on to the Jameson Distillery in Midleton, 

where I was trained as an official whiskey taster!

Saturday, we took the day off from touring to spend a quiet day in Sneem, exploring the town and climbing over the rocks in the Sneem River.

Took a walk down to Golden's Cove for the view of the lovely Sneem Hotel. 

And said goodbye to Ireland on Sunday. 

It's good to be home again, but I'd go back in a heartbeat. *sigh* Now it's back to work on those edits!

Monday, May 28, 2012

Memorial Day by Shana Galen

Happy Memorial Day. I hope you have the day off or are celebrating in some way, shape, or form. As a kid, I didn’t have any notion of what Memorial Day was or meant. I only knew it was a day off of school, or signaled the end of school, and a day when both of my parents would be home to play with me.

As I grew older, it still didn’t mean much to me because I didn’t know anyone who was enlisted in the armed forces. Once I told my dad this, and he informed me that he and my grandfather had both served in wars. He served in the Vietnam War, and my mother’s father served in World War II.

I was fascinated, as any kid with an interest in history would be, and also so proud. I also felt fortunate that Memorial Day could be a day when I could say thank you to veterans and not have to mourn the loss of my father or grandfather.

So thank you, veterans and thank you to the men and women currently enlisted. Know we are thinking of you, remembering you, and thankful to you for all your sacrifices.

Sunday, May 27, 2012

This Could Be the Start of Something...

by Joanne Kennedy
Summer in Wyoming is a time of new beginnings, and this one's a doozy for me and my family. Last week, I watched my son graduate from the Air Force Academy and move on to pilot training. Next week, I'm going to visit my new granddaughter. The week after that will mark the release of my fifth novel, Cowboy Crazy, and the excitement of a big blog tour. And through all this change and excitement I'm starting a new series about three men who owe their lives to one rancher, a horse trainer who took them in as foster brothers and taught them to trust the bonds of family.

To honor all these new beginnings, I thought I'd share an excerpt from Cowboy Crazy that marks the start of something good... in a slightly racier vein. 
Things are heating up between trodeo cowboy Lane Carrigan and publicist Sarah Landon. In this scene Sarah realizes for the first time that Lane isn't your typical roughstock rider. He's looking for something more than an eight-second ride--and he's going to make her face the fact the feelings simmering between them are something more than lust.

“Let’s just pretend we can’t help ourselves, okay?” Sarah whispered.
“Okay. If we can’t help ourselves, that would mean we have to help each other.”
“Right. You rip off my clothes and I’ll rip off yours.”
“Yours are already gone.”
“Then catch up, cowboy.”
She heard a distinct tearing sound as she tugged at the sleeve of his shirt. Well, maybe she should rip off the other sleeve too. That was kind of a cowboy thing, wasn’t it—wearing a shirt with the sleeves ripped off? It should be, anyway, if the cowboy had muscles like Lane’s.

She pulled him down on top of her and then the shirt was gone and so was everything else. She sank her fingertips into the hard muscles of his haunches and steered him right where she wanted him.
“There,” she said. “Go. Please. Go.”
The muscles flexed and she felt him there, right there.
Still there. No further.
She opened her eyes to find his face inches away. His gaze was so intense she closed her eyes again.
“Open your eyes,” he whispered. “Look at me.”
She didn’t want to do it. If she looked into his eyes there’d be more than a meeting of bodies going on; there’d be a meeting of minds, and that was the last thing she wanted.
“Just go,” she whispered.
He started to pull away and her eyes flipped open like a doll’s. “I’m here,” she said.
“Good.” He moved into her, then out, watching her face. His gaze was tender and hot all at once, and she felt her shield slipping. She could almost believe this meant something to him, but that wasn’t possible. They barely knew each other. This was a one-night stand, a brief, hot interlude of mindless sex, a slaking of both their appetites and nothing more.
After all, he was Lane Carrigan. He could have damn near any woman he wanted. A small-town girl turned spinster businesswoman was hardly what he’d choose.
“Nobody ever felt this good,” he whispered. “Nobody.”
She tried to say something smart and witty, but what came out was a pleading animal noise as she pulled him into her again. After that she stopped thinking and simply moved. It was like music, the way they dipped and soared, asked and answered, over and over, until she cried out again with a scream that released all the darkness inside her and let his light flood in to take its place.
When she opened her eyes again, the moon had slid into the small skylight and was looking down at her with its blank, serene face. It felt like a blessing.

Lane lay beside her, sleeping. She hadn’t noticed what long lashes he had. They softened the harsh masculine planes of his face, making him look less like a mythical outlaw and more like a man.
A man who made love to her like there was actually love involved. But then, Lane did everything all-out. When he rode, he rode wild animals; when he made love, he chose a woman determined to resist him. Even when he slept, he slept hard.

She shimmied out from under the arm he’d tossed over her waist and slipped off the bed, gathering her clothes. When she’d finished dressing, she tapped him on the shoulder.
“Lane, I need to go home.”
He rose and dressed without a word, as if he was still asleep—or maybe he knew talking would break the spell. As he dressed, his shadow shifting in the moonlight, Sarah sat on the edge of the bed and slowly came to her senses.
What the hell was she thinking? Real life didn’t end at the entrance to the rodeo grounds. You couldn’t step outside your life. You couldn’t stop time and do what you wanted and expect no repercussions.
There was always a price to pay.

Saturday, May 26, 2012


HI everyone and welcome to Memorial Day weekend!

I know you've probably already been warned to party responsibly and drive carefully. Those are givens. This weekend is always a mix of emotions for me.

It's the unofficial kick-off to summer...YAY! I love summer. It's my favorite season and it goes by too quickly up here in NH.

It's also time to remember the fallen, including my parents--both army officers and my brother, a naval officer.
But the way I remember people has changed over the years. (I've had lots of practice.)

My parents loved birds. Their backyard was full of feeders and various devices to keep squirrels and racoons out of them. When I visit my parents' graves on Memorial Day, I make sure two things happen. First, I make sure I have plenty of bird seed with which to decorate their headstone. They were practical people. My mom didn't like receiving cut flowers, knowing they were going to die sooner. She preferred plants. Since the cemetery doesn't allow permanent plants, and I know my parents would prefer money for flowers to be spent on feeding the local birds, that's what I do.

The other thing I have to do is check for TWO flags. My mom was in WWII as well as my dad. She flew planes for heaven's sake! One of the first female pilots in our country. Se flew "errands" domestically (since that's all women were allowed to do in those days,) and she was also the OIC of an all black WAC attachment. That's something black women weren't allowed to do back then. I still have an old autograph book of hers. She was a much loved officer, and knowing the kind of person she was, it doesn't surprise me.

If the town puts one flag out, there's hell to pay. Let's just say, it happened once. My folks raised a woman who doesn't suffer fools gladly. So, wish me luck on Monday. I'm getting to the age where my blood pressure can be a problem. Hopefully, I'll be able to spread my birdseed and whisper my gratitude in peace.   

Do any of you have unique ways to remember your loved oes?

Friday, May 25, 2012

Wild Times! by Judi Fennell

As the school year winds down, there are some wild times happening. I have a Kid graduating and going off to College this year - mixed emotions all the way around. I'm not fond of this thing called Change. I shall miss my Kid. My first. It's bittersweet.

Also coming this summer is the release of my 3rd genie book, originally titled Leave It To Genie, now titled Magic Gone Wild. Isn't the cover pretty?

I had to laugh at Robin's upcoming release, Call Me Wild. Sourcebooks has a thing about WILD, I guess. (And you remember that the second book in my Mer series was WILD Blue Under...)

And in other news, Genie Knows Best is up for a PRISM Award. It's the 2nd genie book and I find it interesting that my 2nd Mer book (see above) won a PRISM. Maybe it's the middle-child syndrome. *shrugs.

So, in honor of these changes, and because I just don't want to think about Kid leaving, I'm posting TWO excerpts below, one from Magic Gone Wild and the other from Genie Knows Best. Enjoy!

pre-orders are up at Amazon and B and N,  and it's up for a giveaway at Goodreads.


            “So what’s the plan again?” asked Merlin. “You lost me.”
            Zane would like to lose him. The damn bird hadn’t shut up since they’d stepped off the porch, bitching the entire walk around the property. Zane had offered him the opportunity to leave, but the bird felt some crazy compulsion to stick to Vana like glue, as if he expected Zane to try something.
            Yeah, he might be thinking along those lines after that teaser of a kiss in the kitchen, not to mention the one in the attic when he’d thought she was a figment of his imagination. But she was a genie, for crying out loud. One didn’t lust after a genie.
            Then she walked a few steps ahead of him, her see-through outfit leaving nothing to the imagination, and, yeah, maybe one did.
            “Isn’t this where the lawn-bowling court used to be?” Merlin clacked his beak, and midflight, his wings turned purple and gold.
            “Yes. By the fence beneath that mimosa tree,” Vana answered.
            “I’d rather have a mimosa than go lawn bowling near one.” Merlin landed on Zane’s shoulder. “You don’t mind, do you, buddy? My wings were getting tired. Just flew in from Baghdad, you know.” The bird cracked only himself up with the joke. “Geez, talk about boring. What is it with you mortals? Can’t take a joke.”
            “I have you on my shoulder, don’t I?”
            “Hey, good one!” Merlin nipped his ear.
            “Do that again, bird, and we’ll go for the deep fryer this time.”
            “Sheesh. There you go, back to the no-humor thing.”
            “As I was saying…” Vana reached up to Zane’s shoulder and shifted Merlin onto her fist. “The court was here, and over there was one of Peter’s rose gardens. You can still see the brambles. I bet the bushes will spring back once I clear it out.”
            “You gonna do it now?” Merlin asked.
            She stopped. “I could. If it’s okay with you, mast—I mean, Zane?”
            Zane checked their immediate vicinity. The closest neighbor was half a mile beyond the driveway. A dozen acres surrounded this manicured—as it were—portion of the property, and the Vlad the Impaler iron fence, complete with gargoyles, wasn’t letting anyone in. They were all alone.
            “Sure, go ahead.” He wouldn’t think about being all alone with her.
            And then Vana puckered up and blew a kiss.
            If the brush hadn’t burst into flames, he might have.
            “Oh no, oh no, oh no!” Vana wrung her hands as Merlin flew onto a mimosa branch. “I said ‘tame,’ not ‘flame’!” She made some more kissing noises.
            The flames shot up higher.
            Shit. He didn’t have to worry about someone strolling the property to get an eyeful. The bonfire was big enough to alert the entire town.
            “Vana, we have to put it out!” He looked around for… what? A fire hose? Extinguisher? Waterfall?
            Not a damn thing in sight, which shouldn’t be surprising, given the rest of the nightmare he’d encountered since arriving here.
            “I’m trying to!” She made another kissing noise, and two giant flames—one red, one blue—shot up the middle. “No! Not red-blue! Res-cue! Res-cue!”
            It was no use. The more flustered she got, the more her magic went haywire.
            Zane ducked. They did not need a bunch of hay appearing out of nowhere—Jesus. Now she had him thinking crazy things, too.
            And then she started fiddling with her fingers again. Puckering her lips.
            Yeah, that hadn’t worked out so well. So Zane did the first thing he could think of. He tugged her to him and kissed her.


            A genie.
            A genie. No. That wasn’t possible. Genies didn’t exist. This had to be a dream. It was crazy. It was ridiculous. Insane.
            Yet that kiss had been real. Samantha put her fingers to her mouth, the feel of her skin nothing like that of his lips.
            She glanced at him. Why had he kissed her? And why wasn’t she giving him hell for it? She’d been about to, but then pitchfork-carrying, pointed-hat-wearing gnomes had crawled out of the downspouts, and… oh, yeah, that’d be why. It had nothing whatsoever to do with Albert’s offhanded, metaphorical stomping of her dreams and self-esteem. Nothing to do with being blindsided yet again. Being used. No, nothing to do with that at all.
            No, the reason she wasn’t taking umbrage with that high-handed kiss was because the insanity of this situation was even more insane than some random guy kissing her.
            Some random, half-naked, hot guy.
            One of the gnomes tripped and his pitchfork went flying, landing at Samantha’s feet.
            Gnomes. Pitchfork-bearing gnomes. That was insanity.
            Then the gnome picked up the pitchfork, tipped his hat to her, and army-crawled back the way he’d come.
            She had to be in Oz. Or Narnia. Maybe Middle-earth. Or, possibly the Addams family’s neighborhood because, not only was she looking at gnomes, the likes of which she’d only ever seen on a television commercial, but a dozen of Cousin Itt’s cousins were shuffling out of one building, and a parade of men no taller than the back of that suddenly appearing chair were filing out of another. Dressed in green, the men had black shoes, black belts, and black bands around their green top hats, all with big gold buckles on them.
            Yes, she’d definitely gone over some rainbow because this had to be Oz—and that guy at the head of the green-man brigade the mayor—because she’d planned Dad’s funeral for November seventeenth, not March seventeenth, and she hadn’t had even a sip of the arak.
            “Top o’ the mornin’ to ye, lass,” the mayor said with a heavy, deep brogue, putting the kibosh on Oz. Maybe she was in Brigadoon.
            “All right, all right, stand back. Give the lady some breathing room.” The fennec was running back and forth like a Border-collie wannabe as the parade fanned out around them.            “She’s still in the adjustment period. No one say anything to upset her.”
            Ah, her very own knight in shining fur. Pity he was too late on the no-upsetting thing.
            Then a centaur trotted up behind the crowd, taking upset to a whole new level.
            “Kal!” Half-horse, half-man, the creature fist-pumped the genie over the little people. “How’s it goin’? You done yet? I figured with the High Master all set to announce something big at the bash next week in Al-Jannah, you’re finally getting that promotion.”
            Aladdin—no, Kal—shook his head. “Not yet, Wayne. There’s still her.” He nodded her way, and the sword swung on his hip.
            “Her… I mean, me?” Samantha squeaked. She stuck her hand behind her back and furiously pinched herself. Wake up, wake up, wake up! “What do I have to do with anything?”
            “Oh lots,” said the fennec, bouncing around. The guy could use some Xanax. “You’re going to—mmmrph!”
            Kal scooped up the fox and tapped his snout. “Enough, Dirham. Don’t forget your job.”
            Job? The fox had a job?
            Well, sure. Why not? Why not a feather boa, too?
            That’d be because the boa idea had been claimed by the pair of sparkling white unicorns—literally sparkling and literally unicorns, horn and all—strolling down the sidewalk.
            “I’ll take that aspirin now, if you don’t mind.” Samantha held out her hand to Kal, then tossed the pills into her mouth sans water. Wine. Whatever.
            Gulping them down, she grimaced at the chalky residue they left on her tongue. “Wish I had chocolate instead,” she muttered.
            And, voilĂ ! A chocolate bar hovered before her eyes.
            This time she sat without an invitation. “How… How is this happening?”
            The gnome and the army of munchkins chuckled. Even Cousin Itt and his cousins cracked smiles beneath their hair, the upward curve of yellow teeth behind the dreads making them look like Rastafarian jack-o-lanterns.
            Dirham squirmed in the genie’s arms. Nicely muscled forearms that had been around her not five minutes ago—
            “It’s because Kal’s your genie and he’s here to do whatever you want.”
            Now that had some interesting possibilities…

So, parents out there, how do you handle the college thing? I remember when I went off, how excited I was... and how my mom cried. I TOTALLY get it now, though I am really excited for Kid.

Thursday, May 24, 2012

Sold! A SEAL Wolf Christmas!

Not sure about the title, but Sourcebooks bought A SEAL Wolf Christmas!

It all began with To Tempt the Wolf and Hunter and his wolf pack!

You know how that began. Tessa finds a naked man on her beach. Hey, he's a SEAL...wolf. What can you expect?  Snowstorm coming. What's a woman to do???

Then there's A SEAL in Wolf's Clothing.

And a return to Hunter's pack, only this time with one of his SEAL team members, back at the Oregon coast, Finn Emerson intending to protect Hunter's sister Meara.

Meara catches him before he covers himself with a towel, pretending to be her lover while she's intending to find a mate. And it's NOT going to be him. He's such a devil of a wolfish SEAL hunk.

And now?

I got word last night, talk about TGIF!!! Anna and Bjornolf get their turn!

A SEAL Wolf Christmas (title probably to change)

Navy SEAL Bjornolf Jorgenson and undercover operative Anna Johnson have a rocky beginning at their first meeting all to do with pantyhose and tying her to a bed after some heavy-duty sparring, and him declaring she has mighty fine killer knees. Christmas is coming but thoughts of sugar plum fairies and kissing under the mistletoe isn’t something these two gray werewolves have in mind when they're tasked to be the newlyweds preparing for Christmas while investigating a SEAL’s murder at a Christmas Tree farm.

Neither care about Christmas, sharing gifts, and all the traditions that go along with the season since neither enjoyed the holiday while growing up. But as they battle each other as to what makes for the perfect newly married couple’s first Christmas, they learn that a little Christmas cheer can become so much more, especially if they can take down a SEAL’s killer before they become his next target.

So get ready for more of Bjornolf. Yum. :)  And Anna and her give no quarter attitude!

Happy Friday EVE!!! That's what one of my fans calls Thursday to help get us through until TGIF!!!

And I'm at Discover New Love all month long!

Thanks to EVERYONE who stopped by last night to party with me at Discover a New Love! Bonnie's reason for loving my werewolves--they run around naked--!!! Was one of my quotable quotes for the future!


Good luck to Kathryne and Shana on their upcoming parties!

And remember, Savage Hunger is coming next! Ready for some shapeshifting jaguars???


What would you do if a jaguar is stalking you, and he looks like this guy when he's not in his cat form???

 Maya is in trouble already in the second of the jaguar stories. Figures. Her brother's away with his mate on another jungle adventure...and Maya's looking to do a little networking with some more jungle shifters, if she can locate them. So here's the challenge--what should the bar be called where jaguar shifters are hooking up?

"Giving new meaning to the term alpha male where fantasy IS reality!"

Wednesday, May 23, 2012

My Itchy Feet

by Olivia Cunning

Springtime always gives me itchy feet.

Not because I have Athlete's Foot (ew!), but because every spring I have the sudden urge to make huge life-altering changes in my life. This usually involves wanting to move to a warm area near a beach.

I'm sure it has something to do with living in landlocked Nebraska and spending all winter scraping frost off my windshield, shoveling snow, walking like a penguin, and gazing at barren cornfields, which are pretty depressing things to stare at for five months every year. Cornfields aren't very picturesque when they have brilliant green stalks of corn growing in them. Imagine them empty and gray with dead corn stubble stretching in neat rows as far as the eye can see. Just writing about it depresses me.

Two springs ago, my cold and itchy feet decided to visit Las Vegas (I was researching Rock Hard at the time). Much of the book takes place in Las Vegas. The band has a concert there, and the heroine and hero enjoy the Vegas sights and each other. *wink, wink* My itchy feet also forced me to apply for several jobs in Southern California (the beach "thing") that year. When did the interview committee decide they wanted me to come for an interview? In the middle of my Las Vegas research trip, naturally. So I rented a Volkswagen Beetle and drove to the Los Angeles area from Vegas. I didn't get to see much of Vegas and I got very sick with the airplane plague (as I always do when I fly; I hate flying), so I didn't interview well. Unfortunately, I did not get the job or the beach. Phooie!

Another winter of empty cornfields and walking like a penguin.

Last spring, my son graduated from high school. I was determined to overcome my itchy feet. Life was changing enough without moving to a different state. Not that I didn't think about it. I even considered applying for a job in the Bahamas, but I figured the college Freshman might need his mother close-by that first year. Nope. Not really. He was perfectly content on his own. He called once to ask about laundry soap, otherwise, he was self-sufficient. I should have moved to the Bahamas.

Another winter of empty cornfields, but this past winter was mild. I only had to shovel snow four or five times. Thumbs up!

Despite the mild winter, this spring is no different. Itchy, itchy feet. And this year, I might finally get to move to the beach. I applied for a job in Galveston, Texas. (No need to warn me about hurricanes. Yes, I know they exist.) Two jobs, actually, and was invited to interview for both of them. I had last week off work, so I decided to drive the 1850 miles (round trip) and avoid the airplane plague. Last week at this time, I was in an interview (hopefully dazzling them), followed by eating the most delicious shrimp I've ever tasted in my life, followed by an entire evening sitting on the beach with my feet in the surf while writing about sexy rock stars with pen and paper. It was BLISS! Absolute bliss. I did not want to return to the cornfields. I think the interview went well, but Texans are so nice, it's hard to tell if they think you suck. I'm not sure if I got the job. I want it. They were all very positive throughout the interview process, but they couldn't give me an answer right away. They're supposed to let me know if I'm hired sometime today. Wish me luck. Maybe I'll finally have a cure for my itchy feet. And have a bonfire to get rid of those unnecessary things in my life, such as snow shovels, winter boots, ice scrappers, and parkas.