Sourcebooks Casablanca Romance Authors

At the time I write this, the romance writing community is eagerly awaiting the announcement of the finalists in the Romance Writers of America's RITA and Golden Heart contests, which acknowledge excellence in published and unpublished romance fiction. Over at my other group blog, The Ruby Slippered Sisterhood , regulars who've entered the Golden Heart are starting to get twitchy, but those of us who've entered books in the RITA are...pretty chill. Having your book be named a finalist in any writing contest depends on an epic alignment of taste, subjectivity, and luck: which preliminary round judges were randomly selected to read your book? Do they like your voice? Did you use a trope that they love/hate? Does your hero remind them of a rat-bastard ex? Are your love scenes too hot, too cold, or just right? Does your runaway enthusiasm for em-dashes annoy them to high heaven? It's a matter of taste, the...

...by Shana Galen I write a lot about luck. I don’t mean to, but it always seems as though some character is particularly superstitious or thinking about luck or wishing she had more luck or—uh-oh—out of luck. I’m not a big believer in luck myself. I don’t play the lottery or gamble or toss pennies into fountains—very well, sometimes I give my daughter pennies to toss into fountains. My characters often do believe in luck. In reality (can you have reality in fiction?), they’re probably just smart or talented and make their own luck, but that doesn’t stop them from believing in it. Take Bastien from my latest release, The Rogue Pirate’s Bride . He believes in luck. He’s a pirate, and sailors are notoriously superstitious. Here’s a few lines from the book where he discusses luck with the heroine, Raeven. Her father, a British admiral, has just spotted Bastien’s ship, which is currently housing the admiral's kidnapped daughter. His cobalt eyes were steady, the quest...

I know, I know. 13 is supposed to be un lucky. But I've never exactly been a traditional sort of person. That could have something to do with the fact that I was born on the 13th. I consider that very lucky--that I was born, that is. You know, when you think about the odds, it's like 8 billion to one that you would turn out to be you. One quicker little wiggle by the sperm swimming beside the one that made you, and you'd be someone else. You could even be the opposite gender. Tall instead of "average." A genius instead of... well, not. Or maybe not instead of a genius. (I, personally, think all of my readers are geniuses, but that could just be me...) I always tell my kids to be thankful for what they have because, you know, one little mishap, one misplaced gene, and it could all be so different. I also remind them that they're the sperm that won. (TM) [Yes, I am trademarking that. I came up with it; it's mine. But feel free to use it with proper attributi...

by Olivia Cunning A few months ago, I was doing some research about lucky charms. Not the cereal. I already know plenty about that sugary goodness. I was researching objects that are thought to bring good luck. The reason? In one of the Sinners on Tour books, everyone's favorite quirky drummer, Eric Sticks, thinks he's targeted for injury (or death) and he figures a good luck charm (or twenty) can't hurt. So he starts to accumulate them. Eric's first and probably most morbid good luck charm, was a lucky rabbit's foot. Surprisingly, the rabbit's foot has been considered lucky for centuries and by various cultures around the world. To be considered truly lucky (for the human possessing the charm, not the rabbit), the charm must be the left, hind foot of a rabbit killed in a cemetery under a full moon on Friday the 13th. I believe Eric picked up his rabbit's foot at a swap meet, so it probably wasn't all that lucky. Especially since it was green. Yes,...

Warning to all would-be madmen and rabble rousers: That stylish little grandma with the blonde hair—‘cause Baby Boomers don’t go for that blue stuff—may be packing heat. But this blog isn’t about guns or the right to bear them. It’s about my mom and how sometimes we don’t realize just how lucky we’ve been in our lives until we’re older. Last November we were fortunate to have my mom, aunt, and an older cousin present for my daughter’s ninth birthday party, and what a treat it was. At some point, I know the fifteen-plus-hours journey from my mom’s house to ours is going to become too difficult for her to travel. Of course she has always been a little spitfire, so she could surprise me. Much like she did during her last visit. The conversation between the ladies in my family after the birthday party was probably one of the funniest ones I’ve ever overheard. Let me set the stage. You see, my mom is about 5’2” and a strong wind could blow her away. She usually has a new outfit on, her hair...

This was always my favorite song from Guys and Dolls. I'd wait and wait through the movie for Marlon Brando to stand in the sewer, a pair of dice in his hands, betting his life on a single roll, and call on Lady Luck to help him win the girl of his dreams. I have been an incredibly lucky person of late, for, you know, the last few decades. I can point to easy job promotions, I can point to a solo bicycle trip around the world, I can point to published novels, and I can point to my greatest luck, my wife and kid. No man ever won such a roll before. And every bit of that luck was made... By me! Sounds arrogant? Well, not really. It is a matter of attitude and action and which way I face. Do I look at all the fine people I worked with and all I learned or do I look at the hard work and pain I invested in some jobs only to be laid off due to the recession? Do I look at the adventure of the bike trip or the fact that I lost my business, my career, and my house finally arriving at the po...

March 17, 1967 --the day my parents met. The east coast had been slammed by a massive spring snow storm but that didn't stop two groups of college kids (or thousands of others) from enjoying the parade in New York City. Both of them were just 19 years old and on their way to NYC for the festivities with their friends. They'd spotted one another at the New Rochelle train station while waiting in the bitter cold for the crowded train. My Father tried to follow the gorgeous blond but once they reached Grand Central...the sea of people had swallowed her up. The platinum haired beauty seemingly lost to him. However, several hours later they spotted each other again. My mother and her two friends were standing under the big clock at The Biltmore Hotel. My Dad, having participated in his share of Saki, sauntered right up to her and said, "Hey weren't you the girls we saw at the train station this morning?" My Mother looked up at the handsome boy with the smiling br...

There are approximately 10,000 3 leaf clovers for every one 4 leaf clover according to Wikipedia. Imagine having the time to hunt through a patch of clover looking for one... I did as a child, and I found one. For many years it was pinned to the noticeboard my mother kept next to the phone in the kitchen, commandeered for communal luck. As a kid that really bugged me as I considered it mine, now I realize the luck is in the finding not the keeping. Did the 4 leaf clover bless me with a luck-filled life? Well, that depends on what you consider luck. No, I haven’t won lotto and it didn’t stop bad things from happening. However I’ve always come out the other side relatively unscathed (even if I didn’t feel lucky at the time in hindsight things could’ve been worse). So while I do believe in luck, I also believe in hard work, taking chances and grabbing every opportunity that comes along. If you leave a comment, I have a signed ARC of Kiss of the Goblin Prince up for grabs. ...

I made my deadline. :) With only one day to spare, I turned in book 2, CHECKMATE, MY LORD, to my editor. Can everyone hear my ginormous sigh of relief? Have a peek at my pre-deadline office below—yikes! Many times, I’ve heard authors talk about the difficulty they had in writing their “sophomore” book. I never really understood the message they were trying to convey—until this past year. Writing on deadline is a completely different animal from having years to polish one’s debut. And in some cases, writing several manuscripts until THE ONE catches an editor’s eye. If you’re a pre-published author, I’d like to offer you one piece of advice. Discipline yourself to writing a certain number of words (or pages) a day, every day. Then, when you do sell (because you will), you can answer one vital question that your new editor will ask. How long will it take you to write the next book?   It’s an answer you must know. Because if you get it wrong, you’re not only affecting y...