Crawl in Bed With SA MEADE

Crawling Into Bed With

SA Meade

And a Good Book

Important things first, are these sheets silk or cotton?

Cotton. Silk is too slidey.

What are you wearing?

Knickers and a smile.

What are we snacking on in bed while we read tonight?

Godiva Chocolates. (in my dreams).

If I open this nightstand drawer, what will I find?

Discarded scratch cards from the National lottery, the instructions for the alarm clock and whatever detritus my beloved has fished out of his pockets.

Interesting. *pokes SA* Do you roll up in the blankets like a burrito, or kick the covers off during the night?

It depends on the weather. If it’s cold then it’s the burrito thing. In the warm weather, I definitely kick the duvet off.

Ahh...I see.  Can I put my cold feet on your calves to warm them up?

Do you have a death wish?

Ahem... no.  Can I borrow a pair of socks?  What are we reading? 

 The silence left by the end of the music was broken by the soft clunk of the station’s heating system kicking in for the night. Paul’s leg brushed against mine. Without wine to dull the heat, I crossed my legs and tried not to think what his closeness was doing to me. I struggled for something to say.

            “Thanks for the curry.” It seemed as good a start as any.

            “My pleasure.” He shifted beside me until our shoulders touched. “It’s nice to cook for someone. It’s not really worth just cooking for myself. Do you cook?”

            “A bit, but it’s fairly basic stuff.I’ve been known to open a tin or two and heat the contents up.”

            Paul laughed. “You’ll have to show me what you can do.”

            “All right, I will, one of these days.”

            He slid his arm across the back of the settee. “I’ll hold you to that.”

            I fought the urge to edge closer.

            Paul moved until the gap between us disappeared. I felt his hand, light on my hair. “You don’t mind, do you?”

            The hesitancy in his voice took me by surprise. He was no longer the station boss. He was just a man, finding his way.

            “No, I don’t mind at all.”

            “It’s been a long time since I’ve really enjoyed someone’s company”—Paul curled his fingers into my hair—“the way I enjoy yours.”

            I wanted to kiss him. I wanted him to kiss me. “I enjoy your company, too.” I turned to face him.

            Paul’s eyes were veiled in the twilight of the room. He glided his fingers over my skin, bringing them to rest on either side of my face. He leaned close, his lips parted.

I twisted my fingers into his hair and kissed him, sliding my tongue along the curl of his lower lip until his mouth opened beneath mine. Everything throbbed. Everything ached.

“Oh…Jesus…Michael.” Paul sighed, his breath warm on my lips. He rested his forehead against mine. “Talk about still waters.”

Buy Orion Rising at: Buy Link: http://www.total-e-bound.com/product.asp?strParents=&CAT_ID=&P_ID=1589

You can more on SA and her work at : http://kestrelrising.blogspot.com/

Men and Romance...never the Twain Shall Meet?

Welcome guest blogger Jean Joachim today. She's adding her two cents to the topic of the month: Men Can't Write Romance.  That's not my opinion- it's a statement I picked up over at GR.  Some people believe it's true- others don't.  Read Jean's column today and let us know what you think.  Everyone who comments on each post in this series will be entered to win an Amazon gift card worth $10. The series will run every Tuesday in April, and that gives you four chances to comment to win!

Who Says Men Can’t Write Romance?

 Men have been writing romance longer than women. For example, William Shakespeare’s timeless, romantic play, Romeo and Juliet has been played, replayed, imitated and rewritten, countless times. Other Shakespeare plays: “The Taming of the Shrew”, “Midsummer Night’s Dream” and “Twelfth Night”, to name a few, have strong romantic themes. Miguel de Cervantes, sixteenth century Spanish author, wrote of the chaste love of Don Quixote for his Ducinea.

Women in those days were forbidden from writing under their own names and later on, a few brave, talented women wrote under the pseudonyms of George Eliot and George Sand. Hey, this article is about men!

Men continued to write great literature with romantic elements like, Sons and Lovers and Women in Love by D.H. Lawrence, Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy, Main Street by Sinclair Lewis, Tropic of Cancer and Tropic of Capricorn by Henry Miller, From Here to Eternity by James Jones and Tender is the Night by F. Scott Fitzgerald, to mention only a few.

And that, you may say, is that for men in romance. And I say WRONG, Cupid-breath. Men are still incredibly romantic today and while some, like the phenomenally talented Brindle Chase and Nicholas Sparks write heterosexual romance books, others, like the brilliant Lee Brazil and a countless number of his friends and colleagues write gay romance books.

Some men, intrigued by romance but looking for bigger bucks, have moved away from publishing into the higher-paying realm of screenwriting. Many of the best romance movies, past and present, have been written by men. You’ll find men’s hearts take flight in this most visual of media, creating romantic situations, great dialogue for women and scorching love scenes on celluloid. From Casablanca written by Julius Epstein to Ghost, written by Bruce Joel Rubin. From The Philadelphia Story by David Ogden Stewart to, Serendipity by Mark Klein, men have been penning romance for the big screen since movies began.

Many of our favorite classic romantic movies are written by men…almost any Fred Astaire movie, It Happened One Night, While You Were Sleeping (okay, this is my favorite) and Sabrina. 

And when it comes to a more present-day movie romance, one male writer shines through the rest. Richard Curtis, a non-descript man, has written several of the most popular, most romantic movies in recent history, including: Notting Hill, Love, Actually and both Bridget Jones Diary movies.

            While women lay claim to soft hearted romantic notions, men buy most of the flowers, fancy chocolates, expensive jewelry (engagement rings) and kneel in humiliating positions to claim the hand of their lady fair. Or put their proposal on the big screen at Yankee Stadium. According to Wikipedia, Valentine’s Day, as we know it, was created by poets (men) during the time of Geoffrey Chaucer in the Middle Ages. And what of poets? Who are “The Romantic Poets”? All men: William Blake, Lord Byron, William Wordsworth, Samuel Coleridge, Percy Shelley and John Keats, to name a few.

            What about romantic music? The most romantic music in the United States, except for Jazz, came from early Broadway musicals, dominated by men. Composers and lyricists like: Irving Berlin, George and Ira Gershwin, Lerner and Loewe, Rogers and Hammerstein, Rogers and Hart, wrote some of the most romantic music ever.

            So why shouldn’t men take their romantic notions back to the written page, where it all started? No reason. Men, I hand you a pen and a pad. Please, put your sexy, romantic notions down on paper. I’m reaching into my purse and getting in line to buy your sigh-inducing, heat-producing, all-encompassing romantic books. Write on!  

             

Find out more about Jean and her work at : http://jeanjoachim.blogspot.com/

Truth or Dare Paper Back Give Away : The Rules of the Game

Y'all have met, Havan, right? My beloved muse? The one who holds my hand when I hit submit, passes the tequila when things are good, bad, or about to get ugly? 

She had this marvelous Idea for how to give away a signed copy of Truth or Dare, the paperback that contains Keeping House, Telling the Truth and Giving Up. 

It's easy. Kind of. 

We'll play our own little game of memory.  I'll post two pieces of dialogue from each book, you tell me who said what, and we'll draw a winner from those who answer correctly. 

To recap: You match six pieces of dialogue to the person who said it. 

Email me the correct answers at lee(dot)brazil@ymail.com. 

Havan and I will conduct a random draw from among those who correctly match ALL six bits of dialogue to the correct character.

The winner will receive a signed paperback copy of Truth or Dare. 

April 8 - First set of questions

April 15 - Second set of questions

April 22 - Last 2 posts - get your email sent! 

April 29 - Winner posted

(International players accepted, must leave contact email to win, must respond to notification of winning within seven days of April 29 or prize will be forfeit.)

That's it!  Come back next week for the first round of questions! 

Check out the latest/upcoming attractions 

Upcoming Release                              Latest Release             

Mark's Opening Gambit

Breathless Press

Coming April 6th, 2012

Contemporary Gay (M/M), Light Bondage, Erotic Romance

Order at http://www.breathlesspress.com/marks-opening-gambit

The son of a wealthy business man, Mark Addison is an expert at chess and hiding. Mason Grant labors with his hands in a menial position; he's open about who he is and what he wants in ways that terrify Mark. . Their paths shouldn't have crossed, but now that they have...

They came from different backgrounds, yet each adheres to his own version of family duty and responsibility. One would make any sacrifice for his family's well being. For Mason Grant that means leaving school at sixteen and working hard while living as a man of integrity to set an example for his brothers.

The other would sacrifice anything to keep his family life calm. If that means hiding who he really is from his high society, narrow-minded parents, then that's what Mark Addison will do. He just wants to run his shop, host a few tournaments, play a few games of chess.

When Mason meets fussy, precise chess tournament director Mark, he isn't expecting much more than a few hours of uncomfortable sleep in his car while his brother plays.

One disdainful look from Mark changes that.

---

Loving Eden

Breathless Press

Contemporary Gay (M/M), Erotic Romance

Buy at http://www.breathlesspress.com/loving-eden

Eden St. Cyr wants to let the boy who's crushing on him down easy. Drew Harris wants to protect his son from what he considers a disastrous relationship. Neither of them counted on being attracted to the other.

Eden St. Cyr has wandering feet. He shuffles around the country from place to place and college to college, changing majors and lovers at whim. When Bailey Harris starts following him home, mooning around, and showing signs of affection, Eden hatches a plan to let the kid down lightly before he leaves for the next semester, the next college, and the next lover.

Drew Harris is stunned at the changes in his son. His responsible, dependable, cheerful boy has become a moody, despondent, irresponsible teenager. Drew knows exactly who to blame too. When Eden doesn't return his phone calls, he's forced to be a little more devious in his plans to get the bad influence out of his son's life.

An unexpected attraction derails both men from their plans, but when Bailey walks in at the least appropriate time, can things be put right?

---

Flash Fiction Friday: My Boy Friend's Ex

My Boy Friend's Ex

     I knew there was something about this job he didn't want me to know,  but walking on set to find Trey fucking a chick wasn't on my radar of things he might be hiding.

     She squealed, bucking into him. Acting my ass. I threaded my fingers through the hair at my nape where it prickled uncomfortably. When I realized how closely his grip in her hair mirrored my gesture I dropped it immediately.

     I growled. Trey's head snapped up.

     "I can explain."

     "No, you can't." His ex-fiancée lay on the bed, tiny school girl skirt flipped up revealing glistening flesh. 

Like my flash? Try the others:

Havan Fellows ~ Bonni Sansom ~ Cyril J. Michael ~ Venus Cahill ~ Yvonne Nicholas ~ Davee Jones ~ Benjamin Russell ~ Muffy Wilson ~ Gemma Parkes ~ Lani Rhea ~ Cassandre Dayne ~ ER Pierce ~ JP Archer ~ Kendel Davi ~ BL Morticia ~ DH Black ~ Sherry Palmer

New Contest! Want to Win Mark's Opening Gambit?

Winner Is:  Maya! 

Congratulations! Please watch for your email notification! 

We're one week from Release! 

That means it's time to give away a copy to some lucky commenter! 

If you'd like a copy of Mark's Opening Gambit, leave a comment on this post, telling me what your favorite flavor of Pop Tart is! 

That's right... your favorite Pop Tart. 

Mine is plain old fashioned unfrosted strawberry, FYI. 

Winner will be selected by random draw on April 4th, so check back here then to find out.

(Don't forget- I can't contact you if you don't leave me your email address!) 

Want to know what you're getting? 

BLURB

The son of a wealthy business man, Mark Addison is an expert at chess and hiding. Mason Grant labors with his hands in a menial position; he's open about who he is and what he wants in ways that terrify Mark. . Their paths shouldn't have crossed, but now that they have...

They came from different backgrounds, yet each adheres to his own version of family duty and responsibility. One would make any sacrifice for his family's well being. For Mason Grant that means leaving school at sixteen and working hard while living as a man of integrity to set an example for his brothers.

The other would sacrifice anything to keep his family life calm. If that means hiding who he really is from his high society, narrow-minded parents, then that's what Mark Addison will do. He just wants to run his shop, host a few tournaments, play a few games of chess.

When Mason meets fussy, precise chess tournament director Mark, he isn't expecting much more than a few hours of uncomfortable sleep in his car while his brother plays.

One disdainful look from Mark changes that.

EXCERPT

The golden brown gaze didn't warm in the slightest under his own admiring regard, but scanned his faded Levis and tight T-shirt with disapproval. Mason half expected to be informed he didn't meet the dress code for the elegant little shop. Instead, Mark Addison looked him over and dismissed him as though he were beneath notice.

Shrugging off the snobbery, Mason slapped his brother on the back. "Go get 'em, kid.  Or whatever you guys call it." He hoped to sleep in his car while his brother played, and turned to leave immediately.

He met Addison's eyes again, tried for a smile, but the arrogant host stared right through him. "Students participating in the tournament are to be supervised by adults at all times." 

The inflectionless voice grated on his nerves as much as the pronouncement.  It wasn't like these were two year olds, for God's sake. It was Chess Club. By virtue of their very geekiness they were mature, well behaved teens.

Too bad such a sexy voice and face belonged to such a prick.  Unfortunately for Mason, he couldn't focus on Johnny's progress through the tournament. All he seemed able to focus on was that slim figure moving between the tables, the unconscious grace of the small man's movements, the seductive draw of tightening khaki across his backside as he bent to survey a board or pick up something from the floor.

He scowled as Mark glared at him again, turning and facing resolutely out the window into the parking lot. In the reflection the glass provided, he watched Mark excuse himself from Ainslie, the kid's coach, and head in his direction, a determined expression on his face.

Good. The self-righteous prick had noticed him. Mark stopped right next to him, and they stood staring out into the parking lot together.

"Stop staring at me like that."

Mason snorted, turned to look down at the shorter man. "Like what?"

The older man twitched and licked his lips. Mason stifled the groan that wanted to escape. He shifted restlessly.

"You know. Like...that."

"Like I want to throw you over my shoulder and take you out of here and fuck you? Sorry. Can't do that." Fascinated, he noted the flush on Mark's cheekbones deepen, heard the hitch in his breathing and knew that he'd been right. Chemistry burned between them.

"You..." Mark glanced cautiously around the shop at the kids concentrating so fiercely on their chess games, the proud parents and coaches peering anxiously at their little darlings. Mark stuttered to a stop before starting again. "Not here. We need to talk privately. Meet me behind the shop in ten minutes."

Welcome Guest Silvia Violet

Hello everyone! Lee invited me to talk about reality vs fantasy in romantic stories, and I will, but I'm also going to talk about one of my favorite topics – chocolate cake. Chocolate cake is, to me, one of the most perfect foods. I love cake and I love chocolate. When they are blended together and then topped with rich, buttery chocolate icing, an orgasmic eating experience ensues. Mmmm…..

Where was I….oh yes, reality vs. fantasy. Let's say for the purpose of this post that a peanut

butter sandwich represents everyday reality. It's tasty, serviceable food. But it's not typically the thing fantasies are made of (Of course I'm now pondering a way to work a peanut butter sandwich fantasy into my next book.) People don't normally eat a peanut butter sandwich as an escape or a treat. Chocolate cake on the other hand. Chocolate cake is pure fantasy - scrumptious dessert fantasies, foodie fantasies, and possibly on occasion….well, you can imagine those fantasies for yourself.

When I read romance, I want to read about chocolate cake experiences, not peanut butter experiences. But chocolate cake doesn't have to be perfect to be a treat.

Imagine, if you will, a cake that didn't want to co-operate coming out of the pan. The layers are lop-sided, making the cake slant off to one side. When you ice it, the broken pieces add crumbs to the icing. It's not a show piece, but it still tastes amazing. The inside is still moist, rich, and sinfully good and the icing patches it up nicely. I would be happy with just such a cake, and I'm happy to read about heroes who need a little patching up or who aren't perfectly put together.

A chocolate cake with no flaws might be too pretty too eat, but a chocolate cupcake that got knocked about coming out of the tin, one iced by a kid more eager to eat the cake than look at it, that's a treat I can relate to. If a hero has no flaws, he's so far from my reality that I can't relate to him. I can't put myself in his shoes or imagine myself in his bed. But if he's got flaws – he's arrogant, naïve, stubborn, afraid to take any risks, no longer as young or fit as he's "supposed" to be – then he's real to me. That amount of reality won't prevent him from being as delicious as chocolate cake.

I want my reading to take me to a world where two people fall in love despite their flaws and then get their happily ever after. Maybe in a peanut butter sandwich world, their relationship would never work, but in the world of fantasy, they are each other's chocolate cake.

Lark Zaccaro and Derek Carlson aren't perfect men. They've both made choices in the past that have left them scarred, hurt, and alone. In Abandoned, they get a second chance to see past each other's flaws.

Galactic Betrayal 1: Abandoned by Silvia Violet

https://spsilverpublishing.com/product_book_info/coming-soon-c-2/abandoned-ebook-p-773

Blurb:

Lark Zaccaro and Derek Carlson were partners and friends. Lark wanted more. Then someone at the Intergalactic Investigations Bureau sold them out to enemy aliens. Lark was forced to abandon Derek to the enemy, and Derek bought the IIB’s story that Lark betrayed them all.

When Lark’s deep cover mission and Derek’s new job in search-and-rescue collide, the desire simmering between them explodes. Lark needs Derek’s help to escape a new enemy, and Derek needs to

discover the truth about what really happened on that alien planet. Can they overcome lies and betrayal and find the love and comfort they seek, or will their past forever keep them apart?

Excerpt:

Lark Zaccaro smiled as he stepped out of the dripping jungle heat, and into the prison building. Even inside, the stale air was so splyvin' hot it belonged in an oven. He didn't know how anyone could breathe. Not that he was supposed to give a fuck if his prisoners got air or not. He took as deep a breath as he could and headed straight for the interrogation room.

A few hours earlier, his guards had discovered a man crouched in the underbrush, spying on their enclave. Lark's morning had been hell so far, and a vicious interrogation suited his mood perfectly. The two guards flanking the door stepped aside, so he could enter what was truly more of a torture chamber than an interrogation room. At least that's what it had been for his predecessor, and the longer Lark lived on Lancarina, the more he found himself becoming like the man he'd assassinated and replaced. He pushed that disturbing thought away. He wouldn't dwell on how low he'd sunk since he'd left his partner to die in a Lithusian prison cell.

The captive hung from the ceiling, suspended by a heavy chain circling his bound wrists. His toes barely scraped the floor, forcing his arms to support the weight of his large body. The dirty chain bit into his wrists, and blood dripped down his arms. In this squalid jungle, he'd have a deadly infection in no time. Lark would have to do something about that. The man had a ship with advanced defenses. Thus, he was Lark's ticket off this cesspool of a planet.

The man's clothes hung in shreds, and Lark couldn't help but admire his muscular body. His gaze slid over the captive's hard thighs, the impressive bulge in his pants, and the well-defined and disturbingly familiar planes of his chest. When he saw the man's face, he froze. No. It couldn't be. His former partner would have no reason to be here. But Derek Carlson, the man who had haunted Lark's nightmares and his fantasies every day for the six Old Earth months he been in this hellhole, was right in front of him. Chained. Suspended. His to do with as he pleased.

Lark's cock hardened, pressing against the confines of his pants. His body knew what it wanted from Derek, but his mind was less sure. Retribution? Forgiveness? A hot fuck before he threw him in prison to rot? Salvation? His gut knotted at that thought, and he fought to keep his guards from noticing how off kilter he was. He had to play his role, not rush this moment.

There would be time later, in his private quarters, to decide what he wanted to know and how he was going to get the information. If the vessel they had captured in the jungle was Derek's private issue ship, then he'd finally forsaken the lying scum at the Intergalactic Investigation Bureau. They might say their mission is to protect everyone in the five galaxies, but they only care about protecting their own asses. Lark intended to find out why Derek had left, but his guards would play no part in that interrogation. Derek was his.
Lark took a few steps toward the prisoner and studied him. He'd wanted him for years, from the moment they were assigned to work with each other at the IIB. Derek had turned down all his advances, saying they should keep their relationship professional. But now Derek was his prisoner, not his

partner. If he wanted to live, he'd do whatever Lark told him to.

From the way Derek limply hung in his bonds, he was either unconscious or doing an excellent job of faking it. His former partner had fought hard from the look of him. A livid bruise stood out on one cheek and purple splotches decorated his ribs. A deep gash on his arm had dripped blood trails that were now dry. He would have to tend to Derek’s wounds.

Lark needed the man's piloting skills. If he were going to kill Derek for believing those liars from the IIB when they told him Lark had turned traitor, he intended to do so with his own hands after they got off planet. Fortunately, he kept a fully stocked first aid cabinet in his quarters. He just needed to find a way to get Derek there without making his men suspicious .

Nothing but fear and the promise of a huge payoff on their next deal kept Lark's men from turning on him, in the same way he'd turned on the man he had been sent here to investigate. He pulled a long thin blade from his boot and pretended to examine the sharp edge as he circled Derek. He had to suppress a gasp when he saw the maze of scars criss-crossing Derek's back. If he let himself think about how Derek got those, he might be sick right here.

"Leave us," he said to the guards who were eyeing the prisoner in obvious hope of getting some play time.

Buy Abandoned here:

https://spsilverpublishing.com/product_book_info/coming-soon-c-2/abandoned-ebook-p-773

Visit Silvia online:

Website: http://silviaviolet.com

Blog: http://silviaviolet.com/blog

Facebook: http://facebook.com/silvia.violet

Twitter: http://twitter.com/Silvia_Violet

Flash Fiction Friday: Soap Opera

Flash Fiction Friday 

Soap Star

Another fine mess I've fallen into. Doing hair product commercials kept me fed, clothed and shelterd. Then I met Fabian. He suggested I audition for a new soap opera he was going to be involved with. I let him convince me over martinis and anti-pasta.

The audition went well. The director said our chemistry melted the screen.  I just wished Fabian had told me what kind of soap ahead of time. I didn't realize he wanted me to play his love interest. I pictured a "buddies" thing, like Butch and Sundance.

How do I tell him I'm straight and engaged?

Like My Flash? Check out the others! 


Bonni Sansom ~ Sara York ~ Cyril J. Michael ~ Venus Cahill ~ Yvonne Nicholas ~ Muffy Wilson ~ Naomi Shaw ~ Lani Rhea ~ Lisa Worrall ~ Sancre Darling ~ JP Archer ~ CR Guiliano ~ Michelle Chatton ~ S.J. Maylee ~ Rawiya

New Excerpt: Mark's Opening Gambit

Coming up on April 5 pretty quickly now! 

Here's an excerpt from 

Mark's Opening Gambit

EXCERPT

The golden brown gaze didn't warm in the slightest under his own admiring regard, but scanned his faded Levis and tight T-shirt with disapproval. Mason half expected to be informed he didn't meet the dress code for the elegant little shop. Instead, Mark Addison looked him over and dismissed him as though he were beneath notice.

Shrugging off the snobbery, Mason slapped his brother on the back. "Go get 'em, kid.  Or whatever you guys call it." He hoped to sleep in his car while his brother played, and turned to leave immediately.

He met Addison's eyes again, tried for a smile, but the arrogant host stared right through him. "Students participating in the tournament are to be supervised by adults at all times." 

The inflectionless voice grated on his nerves as much as the pronouncement.  It wasn't like these were two year olds, for God's sake. It was Chess Club. By virtue of their very geekiness they were mature, well behaved teens.

Too bad such a sexy voice and face belonged to such a prick.  Unfortunately for Mason, he couldn't focus on Johnny's progress through the tournament. All he seemed able to focus on was that slim figure moving between the tables, the unconscious grace of the small man's movements, the seductive draw of tightening khaki across his backside as he bent to survey a board or pick up something from the floor.

He scowled as Mark glared at him again, turning and facing resolutely out the window into the parking lot. In the reflection the glass provided, he watched Mark excuse himself from Ainslie, the kid's coach, and head in his direction, a determined expression on his face.

Good. The self-righteous prick had noticed him. Mark stopped right next to him, and they stood staring out into the parking lot together.

"Stop staring at me like that."

Mason snorted, turned to look down at the shorter man. "Like what?"

The older man twitched and licked his lips. Mason stifled the groan that wanted to escape. He shifted restlessly.

"You know. Like...that."

"Like I want to throw you over my shoulder and take you out of here and fuck you? Sorry. Can't do that." Fascinated, he noted the flush on Mark's cheekbones deepen, heard the hitch in his breathing and knew that he'd been right. Chemistry burned between them.

"You..." Mark glanced cautiously around the shop at the kids concentrating so fiercely on their chess games, the proud parents and coaches peering anxiously at their little darlings. Mark stuttered to a stop before starting again. "Not here. We need to talk privately. Meet me behind the shop in ten minutes."

Realism and Romanticism: SA Meade Speaks

Reality versus Romanticism in Fiction

Romanticism: The state or quality of being romantic.

Romantic: Given to thoughts or feelings of romance.

When I jumped at a chance to write a guest post on Lee’s blog, I had no idea I'd be set an essay question…jeesh.  Anyway, I’ve given the matter some thought and this is my take on this brain-twister of a topic.

Ever since I stumbled across my first Victoria Holt novel in the school library many, many years ago, I’ve been a sucker for a good romance. I’m one of life’s daydreamers and I like a novel that can take me away from bills, the price of petrol in the UK and what to make for dinner for under £2.06. Having said that, I’m also a reader who likes my books grounded in some sort of reality. 

My pet peeves in romance include love at first sight and perfect characters. Give me lust at first sight and I’m happy and give me real people with sharp edges, broken dreams and issues. I can’t be doing with excessive mooshiness. I read an m/f romance once that ended with the dashing hero arranging for the local peasantry to ski down the local mountainside at night carrying blazing torches so that his girlie could be impressed by the spectacle. It was one romantic gesture too far for me. A romantic gesture, to me, is a cup of tea brought upstairs in the morning, a brave smile when life is crap and a goodnight kiss.

I try to reflect my views on romanticism as much as I can when I’m writing. I try to remember that I’m writing about real people with problems and quirks. All right, they may not fart in bed or clip their toenails in the living room, but they’re stubborn, bad-tempered or too quiet for their own good. I love weaving reality into my romances. I love reading romances with real people.

So, there’s my essay. Did I pass, Lee?

I'll say!  Thank you so much for not including the nail clipping scenes in your books!  I like fantasy in my fiction, and a touch of reality.  Blend it right and you've got a reader for life in me! 

Check out SA Meade's work at her blog: http://kestrelrising.blogspot.com/

Want a preview? Just to make sure SA has the right blend of reality and romance for you? 

Here's a delightful excerpt from Orion Rising

Buy Link: Buy Link: http://www.total-e-bound.com/product.asp?strParents=&CAT_ID=&P_ID=1589

The silence left by the end of the music was broken by the soft clunk of the station’s heating system kicking in for the night. Paul’s leg brushed against mine. Without wine to dull the heat, I crossed my legs and tried not to think what his closeness was doing to me. I struggled for something to say.

            “Thanks for the curry.” It seemed as good a start as any.

            “My pleasure.” He shifted beside me until our shoulders touched. “It’s nice to cook for someone. It’s not really worth just cooking for myself. Do you cook?”

            “A bit, but it’s fairly basic stuff.I’ve been known to open a tin or two and heat the contents up.”

            Paul laughed. “You’ll have to show me what you can do.”

            “All right, I will, one of these days.”

            He slid his arm across the back of the settee. “I’ll hold you to that.”

            I fought the urge to edge closer.

            Paul moved until the gap between us disappeared. I felt his hand, light on my hair. “You don’t mind, do you?”

            The hesitancy in his voice took me by surprise. He was no longer the station boss. He was just a man, finding his way.

            “No, I don’t mind at all.”

            “It’s been a long time since I’ve really enjoyed someone’s company”—Paul curled his fingers into my hair—“the way I enjoy yours.”

            I wanted to kiss him. I wanted him to kiss me. “I enjoy your company, too.” I turned to face him.

            Paul’s eyes were veiled in the twilight of the room. He glided his fingers over my skin, bringing them to rest on either side of my face. He leaned close, his lips parted.

I twisted my fingers into his hair and kissed him, sliding my tongue along the curl of his lower lip until his mouth opened beneath mine. Everything throbbed. Everything ached.

“Oh…Jesus…Michael.” Paul sighed, his breath warm on my lips. He rested his forehead against mine. “Talk about still waters.”

Lucky 7

Wednesday, March 21, 2012

Lucky Seven

Here are the rules:
1. Go to page 77 (or 7th) of your current ms
2. Go to line 7
3. Copy down the next 7 lines - sentences or paragraphs - and post them as they're written. No cheating.
4. Tag 7 other authors. No cheating.


Okay Page 77 - & paragraphs: 

"I mean you're young, your little brain controls your life right now. Eventually you'll realize that there's more to life than sexual gratification, more to people than hot bodies and getting off."

Willow jumped off the bed, his guts churned with fury. "I may be indecisive but I am not shallow!"

Cade's blue eyes gleamed. Was he laughing at him? Mocking him? "It's okay. Everyone is all about sex at some point in their lives. You grow out and up and into real relationships as you experience more of life."

Oh yeah. Exposure to Cade should wear that crush right down to nothing. "Then I'm blood y amazed that you want to have a relationship with me and my little head!"

Solemnly Cade intoned. "I happen to like your little head. And to be perfectly honest, I love playing teacher. Much as I thought I'd hate it, I even enjoyed the whole choices thing."

The heart that stalled at the word love on Cade's lips skipped back into beat. "Yeah....that was ....genius."

"Thank you. Now...Ice cream? sofa? Bruce Willis?"

Giving Up Nominated at The Romance Reviews

Very pleased to announce that Giving Up, Truth or Dare book 3 

has been nominated as 

Best Contemporary Romance of 2011. 

This is one of those things where readers determine who the finalists and the winners are. There are a lot of other categories and a lot of great books nominated across the boards.

Go on over and vote, even if its not for me!

http://www.theromancereviews.com/bookvote.php