Thursday, January 31, 2013

Deadline craziness

by Amanda Forester

Hello all you nice people in blogger land.  Today is my day to blog, but it is also the day before I have a manuscript due.  A manuscript that is not ready yet.  And that terrifying reality gives me hives and makes me doubt myself.

What on earth makes me think I can write a book? (Never mind those other books I somehow published).  Seriously, I don't have time.  I really don't.  After going to work and then coming home and taking care of the kids, and the pets, and the house, and the husband, and writing that PTA newsletter I have no idea why I signed up for, and doing the fundraising for my kids sports team, and a hundred other things that demand my time like angry Canadian geese (the most scary image I could think of at the moment relating to a horrible childhood experience involving a loaf of bread and a hungry goose - shudder) why, why am I doing this to myself?

Let me think...

Oh right - I actually love this.  Because even though right now I have not slept enough in I can't remember when and I'm living on sugar and chocolate and green beans (gotta think of your health you know) I would not trade this opportunity for all the housework and reality TV in the world (what I would be doing if I wasn't writing).

Back to editing folks, because if this blog teaches you nothing else, it's the importance of editing.  (Good gravy how many run-in sentences can I put in one blog post?).

I need another chocolate chip cookie with a green bean chaser... I'll sleep when it's done.

Monday, January 28, 2013

WHY WRITING ROMANCE IS THE WORLD’S COOLEST JOB


Being a writer has to be the best job in the world. For years I’ve spent hours lost within the different worlds within books and now I get to create them! Here’s a little list of the reasons why I love writing romance so much:

 ·     I get to make stuff up for a living.

·      Is that Richard Armitage on my computer, honey? Please, I’m just researching my latest novel. Yes, it’s true. I can officially look for pictures of my latest hero inspiration and claim it’s part of the job. I’m a very visual writer and I have very kind writerly friends who send me excellent research materials.

·      Tea is the official drink for authors. Which means I can drink copious amounts of it.

·      Writing steampunk romance is fun. I get to imagine all sorts of impossible dilemmas to put my hero and heroine into and then craft ways to get back out again. Want to put a werewolf into a kraken submergible? No problem! My hero and heroine running from a regiment of automaton guards? Sure, we can do that.

·      No official dress code means that I can show up to work in my fluffy pink dressing gown and ugg boots. The only problem with this is that my study is right near the front door, so I’ve been sprung in this attire many a time by people trying to sell me stuff.

·      I’m pretty much my own boss. Of course, this is only cool until you realise you have to set your own hours and meet deadlines.

·      Staring out the window and daydreaming is pretty much a pre-requisite of the job.

·      It’s all about the happy-ever-after. There may be moments when I take my characters to dark places, but in the end I know it’s all going to be okay.

·      And last but not least, I get sexy heroes (like Blade) whispering in my ear and trying to tell me how the story goes. Mind you, if he’d gotten his way, Kiss of Steel would have been a whole lot more R-rated and shorter.

It might have taken a few years to get to this point (the years of unpaid apprenticeship are kind of the downside of the job), but now that I’m here I’m loving every second of it.

So tell me… what’s your dream job? And why?



KISS OF STEEL

A brilliantly creative debut where vampires, werewolves, and clockwork creatures roam the mist–shrouded streets of London…
When Nowhere is Safe…
Most people avoid the dreaded Whitechapel district. For Honoria Todd, it's the last safe haven. But at what price?
Blade is known as the master of the rookeries—no one dares cross him. It's been said he faced down the Echelon's army single–handedly, that ever since being infected by the blood–craving he's been quicker, stronger, and almost immortal.
When Honoria shows up at his door, his tenuous control comes close to snapping. She's so…innocent. He doesn't see her backbone of steel—or that she could be the very salvation he's been seeking.

Sometimes Failure Rocks

When I was six years old, I was DETERMINED to be a magician. I had an old silk bathrobe of my grandmother's. It had a tied-on belt. I used that as my cape, and I'd swoosh around the house in my sea-foam-green disguise as I performed "magic tricks" for my family. These tricks were almost always making stuff disappear. Usually marshmallows.

When I was about ten, my mom told me I should become a massage therapist. I'm pretty sure she just told me that so I'd practice on her. She's sort of sneaky, my mom.

When I was a teenager, I didn't really want to do anything but theatre. Oh, and fall in love and get married. I was sure I'd probably have to have another job besides acting, but I didn't really think of cultivating a career. My biggest dream was finding a phenomenal guy to sweep me off my feet. 

And now, here I am, about to debut my first mainstream romance novel in just under six weeks. Now I can't imagine wanting to be anything other than a full-time novelist. And I'll get there, hopefully! My dream guy is super supportive, and in a crazy way, I'm really glad that I've failed as much as I have in my life.

No really. I mean that.

Every time I've fallen flat on my backside, I've had to re-evaluate things. Discover new ways to live, to work, to create. I've done some incredibly stupid things in my life. Most recently, slicing off a bit of my left index fingertip. Yeah. I know. It was just the skin, and it's growing back, and I've learned that I can definitely type with only nine fingers.

If we succeeded at everything we thought we wanted, then our lives wouldn't be as rich and full as they truly are. I really believe that. If I'd succeeded in becoming a magician, I might never have learned to give a kickass massage. If I'd succeeded in becoming a massage therapist, I wouldn't have learned so much about character development and storytelling. If I'd succeeded in becoming a famous actress, then I'd never have started writing.

Sometimes things really do work out for the best. I'm super happy to be where I am today, no matter how many screw-ups it took to get here.

In THE GEEK GIRL AND THE SCANDALOUS EARL, if Jamie and her boyfriend hadn't broken up, then Jamie wouldn't have fallen through a bureau mirror and landed with her true love. If she hadn't loved a jerk, she wouldn't understand how incredible her earl really is. If she hadn't risked everything for the man she loved, she wouldn't...

Well, I can't spoil the ending, can I? ;)



The Stakes Have Never Been Higher...
An avid gamer, Jamie Marten loves to escape into online adventure. But when she falls through an antique mirror into a lavish bedchamber—200 years in the past!—she realizes she may have escaped a little too far.
Micah Axelby, Earl of Dunnington, has just kicked one mistress out of his bed and isn't looking to fill it with another—least of all this sassy, nearly naked woman who claims to be from the future. Yet something about her is undeniably enticing...
Jamie and Micah are worlds apart. He's a peer of the realm. She can barely make rent. He's horse-drawn. She's Wi-Fi. But in the game of love, these two will risk everything to win.


It's great to meet all of you! Feel free to stalk me on the interweb. I don't bite! (well, if you don't like that sort of thing.)

Sunday, January 27, 2013

Countdown to Howl Continues all Next Week--Another winner?!

Last week's winner was:Martha Lawson

Between roof and plumbing problems, both leaks!!! And the blog tour, and edits on A SEAL Wolf Christmas, and Jaguar Fever and finishing up Silence of the Wolf, and dealing with a headache the size of Texas,  here is an excerpt from A Howl for a Highlander so I don't have to think too hard:


He didn’t say anything more, and Shelley was too stunned to speak. Wendy broke in, dying to know all about him. “That’s him? A Scottish hunk? Who sounds like he’s already way too intrigued with you? Don’t tell me you’re wearing that string bikini of yours,” she said.

Knowing Wendy, she’d want to forget her manufacturing crisis and fly to the island to check him out. She’d let him stay at the villa for free, too. Probably pay for all his meals, excursions, everything. She could certainly afford it.

Forget Shelley taking in needy strays. She figured Wendy would be the one offering a free room stateside for him. Until she learned he was a wolf. Wolves lived by different rules, and they had to be cautious about stepping over the lines.

“Yeah, he’s my new roommate.” Shelley didn’t want to tell Wendy she was wearing the bikini, and the Highlander’s tongue was practically hanging out of his mouth. He acted like he’d just shifted into the wolf and come back from a fast-paced run, heartbeat accelerated, adrenaline whipped up, and ready for a lot more exercise—this time one-on-one with a she-wolf. “Got to go, Wendy, and again, thanks for the generous offer. I’ll call you tomorrow.” Shelley knew she’d get the third degree from her friend, especially when Wendy learned he was a Highland wolf, not just human.

Shelley had never dated a wolf, and for the first time, she wondered why the hell not. Because they could be serious trouble, like a commitment forever? And what if she made a wrong choice? Their forever could last centuries.

She clicked off the phone and waved her towel at Duncan. “Didn’t bring a towel?”

His sexy mouth lifted slightly, his dark eyes nearly black and the skin beneath them crinkling with good humor. “Do you mind if I share yours?”

Feeling much better about her finances, she cast him a smug smile. “It’ll cost you.”


 

Hope you all snag a wolf for the weekend!!!

  Follow Along the Countdown to Howl Book Blogger Hop!
Each blog will showcase Terry’s latest novel, A Howl for a Highlander, and offer Wolf Prize Packs of different books in Terry’s series!
1/21 Vampire Romance Books http://www.vampireromancebooks.com/2013/01/terry-spear-countdown-to-a-howl-interview-giveaway/
1/22 Night Owl Reviews http://www.nightowlreviews.com/V5/Blog/Articles/Terry-Spear-Characters-That-Touch-At-The-Heart-Of-Readers
1/23 Sia McKye’s Thoughts Over Coffee http://siamckye.blogspot.com/2013/01/having-fun-with-research.html
1/24 Literal Addiction http://www.literaladdiction.com/
1/25 Under the Covers http://www.underthecoversbookblog.com/2013/01/terry-spear-countdown-to-howl-blogger-hop.html
1/28 Book Lovin’ Mamas http://booklovinmamas.blogspot.com/
1/29 Anna’s Book Blog http://annavivian.blogspot.com
1/30 Urban Girl Reader http://www.urbangirlreader.com

******************************************************************************
I'm offering another chance to be a winner.

So if you had a chance to swim with Duncan, would you charge him to use your towel, or just lick all the water off him...??? :)

Be daring! :) 

Have a super great day!

"Giving new meaning to the term alpha male where fantasy IS reality!"
www.terryspear.com  

Saturday, January 26, 2013

"The Underground Romance Cartel" ...and Giveaway!



This is my first ever post on the lovely Casablanca Blog. For the last few weeks I’ve been agonizing over what to write about. Should I do an “about me” post… or one about my book? I tried, but it came out just…blah.

But then I was invited by the AWESOME Shana Galen to do a post on the “Sisterhood of The Jaunty Quills” blog. I told the tale of how my guilty pleasure (romance novels) became my livelihood. You can read it here.  It was a really fun post and inspired this one.

Over the years I’ve realized that my story of keeping my love of romance novels secret is not an uncommon one. In fact, it seems that most of us started out that way.

I can’t remember exactly how I came upon my first romance novel. Likely it was at the library in the 10 cent book bin. I do remember that I was thirteen and I’m pretty sure it was a medieval romance. Either way, I was HOOKED. I’d ride my bike to the library almost every day to get more. At home, I’d keep them under my bed, and at school, I’d tuck them in the bottom of my backpack and read them inside of either my textbook or a Michael Crichton hardback.

I’m sure my mom knew my secret pretty quickly, but she mercifully remained silent… except for the time she caught me reading her copies of Anne Rice’s erotica trilogy. That was hilariously awkward.
It was inevitable that someone at school would catch me with my secret stash of romance novels… indeed, it happened several times. But the scenario was not what I expected:

Some girl (usually the one seated beside or behind me) would give my backpack a pointed look. I’d glance down to see the corner of a damnably pink or fuchsia book cover sticking out.

Before I could stutter a lame excuse, (“I was framed!” Or “How did that get in there?”) she would whisper, “Have you read “so-and so?” Then we’d get into a conversation about the books we’d read and eventually covertly swap books like contraband drugs.

Thus began my initiation into what I call “THE UNDERGROUND ROMANCE CARTEL.” All over my high school campus, there were girls like me. Once we found each other, we’d begin recommending and swapping books (discreetly, of course). Through the “Cartel” I discovered Julie Garwood, Johanna Lindsey, and so many other wonderful authors. I also discovered that I was not alone in my love for a “happily ever after.”

I’ve since abandoned my shame for loving romance novels, especially since I now write my own.



But I will never forget my first years as a romance addict.

So, how did you come upon your first romance novel? How did you get your “fix?” Did you have an underground cartel too?

Three randomly drawn commenters will receive an ARC of my upcoming debut novel, BITE ME, YOUR GRACE.    

Friday, January 25, 2013

Second Chance Love

Happy Friday everyone!  If you're somewhere in the northern part of the US or Canada, I hope you're surviving the deep freeze.  It's really cold out there so I've spent most of my time inside doing what I love to do best, reading and writing.

I finished a few projects early in the month and my reward for finishing was a week or so of just reading.  I'd been hearing a lot of chatter from a few blogger friends about THE BRONZE HORSEMAN by Paullina Simons and it was a book that's been on my kindle for over a year. So, I took the plunge.  Wow.  WOW.




The book is the first of a trilogy and revolves around a young Soviet girl and the Red Army soldier she falls in love with. Needless to say as their story unfolds they are given a second chance at love and second chances is one of my favorite romance tropes ever.

I love when characters with a past get the chance to reunite and reconnect and to finally find the love that we are readers, root for.  What is better than that?

In my recently released book COLLIDE, my hero returns to the town he grew up in to try and get his life back.  What he doesn't expect are the sparks between him and the woman who stole his heart years ago. They have to work through stuff to get to their HEA and I think that's what I love about these second chance love stories.  There's a familiarity with the characters and a lot of baggage.


Here's an excerpt:

“Do you have any wine?” she asked in an uncontrolled Monroe kind of voice that came from where?
“You don’t want wine,” he said, his voice low and hitting that timber that rolled over her skin like little fingers of pleasure. It was a statement, not a question.
“No, I don’t want wine.”
Her gaze dropped to his mouth.
“What exactly is it that you want?” he asked dangerously. He spread his legs slightly as he continued to lean against the countertop.
She could play the game. Keep the banter going. The back and forth. The verbal foreplay.
But she didn’t want to. It had been too long since she’d felt this aroused. Sex with Shane had always been hot and wonderful and amazing and adventurous. So, why couldn’t she have some of that again?  Even if only for a brief moment?
“You,” she said simply, loving how his eyes widened slightly as if he was surprised at her answer.
“You want sex,” he said matter of fact.
Something about his tone caught her attention and maybe she should have listened to the warning bells that clanged loudly in the back of her head, and yet…she didn’t.
“I want sex,” she said slowly taking two steps until she was between his legs, her body humming with desire. Already she pulsed with anticipation. 
“Why?”
God he smelled good. It took everything in Bobbi to keep still when all she wanted to do was rub her body all over him like a cat.
She tilted her head and gazed up at him, her eyes taking in the stubble that shadowed his jaw, the cleft in his chin and the adorable dimple that softened an otherwise very masculine face.
Why?  There were a hundred and one reasons why this wasn’t a good idea, and yet…
“Because I can’t remember the last time I had an orgasm.”
Surprise lit his eyes and for a moment he said nothing. Any other man would have been all over that information. Belittling her ex-fiancé Gerald and his inability to either please his woman, or the fact that he hadn’t been getting any.
But not Shane.
Silence stretched for several more moments and when he spoke it was anti-climactic. She might have jumped.  Who knows, maybe she did.
“This is going to get complicated,” he said slowly.

Oh, yes do things ever get complicated and that's the way I like them.  So, I've a few days to read coming up and I'd love some more second chance at love books.  Thoughts? Anyone have a favorite to recommend?  


Wednesday, January 23, 2013

SECOND VERSE--NOT THE SAME AS THE FIRST: Writing The Sequel by Pamela Sherwood


Finished!

So far, that's the first achievement of the New Year. The edits for A Song at Twilight--a loose sequel to Waltz with a Stranger--are done, and, pending editorial approval, the book will be released in October 2013.




I have a love-hate relationship with sequels. As a reader, my love of sequels knows no bounds--when an author creates a fascinating cast of characters playing out their dramas in a well-developed setting, I am always eager to see more. And when I'm well and truly hooked, I'll read every successive book until a) the author is finished with the series, or b) the series changes/deteriorates to the point where it no longer possesses the elements that drew me to it in the first place.

For a writer, I think the sequel/series situation is trickier. Even when you love your characters and look forward to chronicling their adventures, an ongoing concern becomes how to keep a series fresh. How do you avoid boring the reader and yourself with repetition?  How do you build excitement and interest within the series as a whole? And when should you pack it in, and move on to pastures new?

I faced a few of these challenges in writing my second book. While finishing up Waltz with a Stranger, I came to the conclusion that the next book had to be distinctly different. That’s one of the reasons I resolved the romantic fate of my heroine’s twin sister in the first book. Although Aurelia and Amy are distinct individuals, they have identical backgrounds--as sheltered, virginal American heiresses--as well as identical features, and they possess strong similarities as well as differences. I worried that a certain sameness might creep into Book #2 if it was devoted to Amy, which would ultimately dampen my own enthusiasm and result in a less involving story. (Amy and her hero may yet receive a story of their own down the road, however.)

My solution was to leave some threads unresolved in Waltz with a Stranger, especially a budding romance between two supporting characters: Sophie Tresilian, the hero’s seventeen-year-old cousin, and Robin Pendarvis, the mysterious aspiring hotelier with the past he refuses to discuss. When I started working out the plot of A Song at Twilight, I knew that something had happened to tear them apart, and they were now four or five years older, sadder, and wiser. And to my way of thinking, more interesting.

The changes in Sophie are more dramatic: she’s become a professional singer, a rising star in the Victorian music world. She’s no longer the wide-eyed innocent she was in Cornwall. Time hasn’t stood still for Robin, either: he’s known betrayal and deceit, along with one of the most life-altering experiences any person can have. And yet his passion for Sophie--and hers for him--burns as brightly as ever, even though the obstacles between them seem no less insurmountable. Or are they?

I’ll leave you now with this short excerpt, in which Robin lays eyes upon his lost love for the first time since their heart-wrenching parting of four years ago. And with the following questions: Series writers, how do you keep sequel fatigue from setting in? And readers, what are some of your favorite ongoing series and what keeps you coming back for more?



 Exterior and interior of the Royal Albert Hall, opened by Queen Victoria in 1871.  The heroine of A Song at Twilight is first seen performing there. At a glance, I'd say the venue probably is big enough to contain those 4,000 holes in Blackburn, Lancashire--oh boy!

Excerpt:

London, July 1896
            He’d been a fool to come, but he couldn’t have stayed away if his life depended on it.
            All around him, Robin could hear the rustle of programmes, the faint coughs and murmurs as the audience settled in before the performance.  Down in the pit, violins lilted and cellos thrummed as the orchestra tuned up its instruments. The concert had sold out quickly--he’d been fortunate to secure a prime seat in one of the lower tiers, with a clear view of the stage. But even the galleries and balconies were full tonight.
            He smoothed out his programme with hands that shook only slightly, read the lines of print over and over until the words ran together in a meaningless blur. David Cherwell, the promising Welsh tenor, and Sophia Tresilian--one of the finest young sopranos in recent memory--performing together for one night only at the prestigious Albert Hall.
            Sophia. The name seemed to belong to some glamorous stranger. In Cornwall, among those who knew her best, she was just Sophie. Sometimes “Snip” to her brother Harry. “Lark” to her sister Cecily. And to Robin himself . . . he pushed the thought away, reminding himself that he’d lost the right to call her anything at all four years ago.  Lost it, renounced it, thrown it away . . . and for the best.  What could he have offered her then, but heartache and ruin?
            And now here she was--celebrated, adored, at the start of a brilliant career. And here he was, watching and waiting. To see all that radiant promise fulfilled. To comfort himself with the knowledge that he’d done the right thing. And for one more reason, that he could not, dared not, put into words yet.
            One way or another, tonight would tell the tale.
            The house lights dimmed and the orchestra launched into a brisk overture that Robin barely heeded because his attention was fixed on the stage. As the last flourish sounded, he saw the slender figure walk out to take her place before them all.
            Not tall, Sophie, but she carried herself with a poise that made her appear so. Stage lights caught the coppery glints in her dark hair, shone on the smooth ivory heart of her face, the slim column of her throat, rising from the décolleté neckline of her gown--a gown the color of midnight, almost void of ornament, severe but becoming. She’d worn white the first time he saw her--a young girl’s dress, artless and unsophisticated, but even then the woman had begun to emerge. And here she stood now, the blossom to the bud, so beautiful it made him ache.
            And not just him. He sensed the heightened awareness around him, the way so many of the men in his vicinity seemed to come to a point.  Like hunting dogs catching the first whiff of game, or orchid hunters sighting a rare, elusive bloom.
            Unseen, the piano rippled out an introduction, the somber chords echoing through the hall, now hushed and reverent as a church. Onstage, Sophie raised her head and began to sing.


Tuesday, January 22, 2013


THE TOP FIVE THINGS I LEARNED AT A COVER SHOOT
Okay, so I have a confession to make.  I went to a Sourcebooks cover shoot a couple of weeks ago, and I drooled... just a little.  All right, so you got me.  It was a lot.  But I was in the same room with the man who posed for this...
THRILL RIDE hits shelves April 2nd.
... so how could I NOT suffer from a lack of salivary control? 

That wasn't a rhetorical question.  I'm really asking in the off chance I get to go to another cover shoot.  I'll wait while you think...  Yeah, you couldn't come up with any way to combat the ol' stare-and-slobber routine either, could you?  *sigh*  I guess I'll just have to remember to bring a very large hankie if and when I find myself surrounded by romance cover model beefcakes again. 

And just in case you think there's a lot of photoshopping going into those pictures, I'm here to tell you that, unfortunately for us mere mortals, there's not.  They actually LOOK. THAT. GOOD.   Disgusting, I know.  Which brings me around to the point of this blog post.  Without further ado, I give you the top five things I learned about myself while at a Sourcebooks cover shoot...  

5.)  I eat way too many brownies.  It's one thing to look at magazines and go, "Eh, they're all airbrushed anyway," while licking fudge icing from my fingers.  It's another thing entirely when physical perfection is staring me smack-dab between the eyes.

4.)  I don't exfoliate enough.  How is it possible for skin to be so smooth and shiny?  Seriously, do the models use loofahs?  Salt scrubs?  Pumice stones for the body and face?  Do they take nightly oil baths?  <--- Okay, I just pictured that last one in my head.  And, can I say, "Mee-Ow!  Mama likey!"

3.)  I seriously need to revisit the amount of coffee and red wine I drink.  Who knew teeth could be that sparkling white?

2.)  I need to hire a personal hairdresser to come over each morning and work their black magic on my head.  I've never seen a French twist look so sexy, or a lock of hair falling so perfectly over a forehead.  It's downright uncanny.  And I want a piece of that action.

1.)  I might need to rethink my career as a writer.  Because while it's a no-holds-barred blast to get paid to tell my stories, it also means I'm sitting at a desk all day.  Talk about an occupation guaranteed to make my ass and thighs take on the relative size and shape of... well... the world's largest ass and thighs.  Then again, if I quit writing, I won't get invited to photo shoots, and I won't get to take pictures like this... 

Yours truly and Donovan

Yeah, that's right.  Be jealous.  Be so very, very jealous.  LOL!


ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Julie Ann Walker is the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author of the Black Knights Inc. romantic suspense series. She is prone to spouting movie quotes and song lyrics. She'll never say no to sharing a glass of wine or going for a long walk. She prefers impromptu travel over the scheduled kind, and she takes her coffee with milk. You can find her on her bicycle along the lake shore in Chicago or blasting away at her keyboard, trying to wrangle her capricious imagination into submission. Look for the first three books in her fast-paced series: Hell On Wheels (August 2012) In Rides Trouble (September 2012) and Rev It Up (October 2012). Or jump on the BKI bandwagon and pre-order the fourth book, Thrill Ride, debuting April 2nd. For more information, please visit www.julieannwalker.com or follow her on Facebook www.facebook.com/jawalkerauthor and/or Twitter @JAWalkerAuthor.



Monday, January 21, 2013

Sun, Sea, Sand, and a Rum and Coke? Seriously?

Greetings! The clan and I recently returned from a fabulous Christmas vacation to Riviera Maya, Mexico. We traveled with my dad and my sister and her family for a grand total of eight! Yep, a good old-fashioned Griswald family Christmas.


I was never away from the States for the holidays before and the trip was definitely an experience. But I have to admit, it was kind of odd not to have the dreary gray skies or snow. Instead, we were blessed with 85 degree weather, white sandy beaches and palm trees. This was pretty much my view every day under the cabana with an umbrella drink in hand.

This fair-skinned beauty only comes with two shades--white or red. I do not tan. I burn. The bird didn't seem to mind my company though.
The staff tried to make everyone feel at home and the resort was decorated with all-things Christmas.

This vacation was my daughter (twelve years old) and my son's (seven years old) first trip to Mexico. My tweeny pretty much rolls with anything, but my son--well, let's just say he's still at that impressionable age. Which brings me to the case in point.
 
The little lad played in the sand, minding his own business, when he spotted a topless woman on a lounger (the only woman on the entire beach sporting such nothingness.) His eyes widened, his jaw dropped and oh, boy...we knew it was coming. 
 
"Where is her top? She doesn't even have a bra on!" he shouted.
 
We sat down and explained how some people in Europe go to the beach "natural" and I thought I had handled the situation like a seasoned pro. Then I politely added, "If it bothers you, just don't look."
 
Again, the little jaw dropped and my beloved son replied, "Of course I'm going to look. I'm a boy!"  
 
Hauling my great parenting skills to dinner that night, the entire clan had a drink beforehand at the bar. A round of drinks were ordered and my son was the only kid who wanted anything--a Coke. We sat around and waited for our name to be called for the reservation when my son came up to me and held out his glass.
 
"There is something totally wrong with this Coke."
 
"What do you mean?" I asked.
 
"Taste it," he said, scrunching up his little face.
 
"No wonder it doesn't taste right. They gave you a rum and Coke."
 
"I had a rum and Coke? This vacation is awesome! I can't wait to tell my friends!"
 
Can you imagine this parent's nightmare? What is he going to tell his friends and teachers? I saw a naked lady and drank a rum and Coke!
 
We had a wonderful time, especially the kids. lol And the first day we were home, we awoke to a beautiful sunrise and four inches of snow.

Sunday, January 20, 2013

A Howl for a Highlander and 1st GIVEAWAY--Autographed copy!


A Howl for a Highlander

Make a trip to Grand Cayman Island where you will snorkel with the sting rays, cruise with swashbuckling pirates, and swim with the wolves. :)
B&N
Amazon




I actually went to Grand Cayman Island and did all that the hunky wolf and his she-wolf did. They balked about going on the submarine, and I didn't blame them. It wasn't worth the price and if you have claustrophobia, not the place to be. But otherwise, except for having all the fun with the wolf, I did it!!! :) Though I kept thinking while I wrote the book, that I needed to go back for a refresher! :)

The books comes out February, but the actual guest blog tour starts on Monday! So who wants to have a chance at winning a book even earlier than that??? If you comment, I'll put you in the drawing.

*******

A Howl for the Highlander (Book 10) Sourcebooks Feb 2013 Duncan MacNeill is a Highlander at heart with a mission—find gray wolf and former stockbroker, Silverman who has stolen the family fortune and is purported to be living in the Grand Cayman Islands. As a Highland wolf, Duncan rarely leaves his native homeland and taking a trip to an island paradise doesn’t appeal. But keeping the MacNeill’s ancestral castle depends on making Silverman pay. What Duncan doesn’t plan for is the American botanist who distracts him from his mission and makes him realize what an island paradise really means.Shelley Campbell is teaching botany at a Florida college, when she receives an email from an old girlfriend, who’s renting a villa on the island and wants her to come to stay with her. Figuring she can study the old growth forest while she's there, and lecture about it when she returns home, she has no idea the secrets she might uncover. When her girl friend’s a no-show, a Highlander turns up instead, and she has a choice—share the villa, or send him away and pay full price for the accommodations—which on her teacher’s salary is stretching things pretty thin. Since he promises to be no trouble at all, she lets him stay. And that’s when the trouble really begins!

DebraTaylor, The Night Owl Reviews
Score: 5.00 / 5 - Reviewer Top Pick
"Another fun and sexy read from Terry Spear! The Queen of shifter romance has done it again. Whether it be wolf or jaguar, this author is one of the best in her genre. Howl for a Highlander is the sizzling love story of sexy Scottish werewolf, Duncan MacNeill and his American she-wolf, Shelley Campbell.
If you're in the mood for a fun shifter romance then I recommend trying this awesome story. I guarantee you won't regret it and that, like me, you'll be hooked for life."


Here is the schedule for A Countdown to Howl

1/21 Vampire Romance Books

1/22 Night Owl Reviews

1/23 Sia McKye’s Thoughts Over Coffee

1/24 Literal Addiction

1/25 Under the Covers



The problem with the deep blue sea is that not only are wolves swimming in the water...but nasty things like jelly fish. The coral is beautiful though!



So what do you think? Would it be worth it to swim with Duncan, that hot Highland wolf who looks as good in a kilt, swimsuit, wolf coat, or without???

Come join me in the Caribbean!

Must be US or Canada to win.

Terry

"Giving new meaning to the term alpha male where fantasy IS reality!"
www.terryspear.com