Monthly Archives: April 2012

Kindle

Look it!  It’s releasing today!  I don’t know where all it’s going to be available… but.. lookit!

Tantor link

Amazon link

BN link

Audible link

iTunes link

Dunno where else it will be, but there are the ones I have.

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But you can name him.

Or well, somebody will get the chance.

How?

Go to http://brendanovak.auctionanything.com/Bidding.taf?_function=detail&Auction_uid1=2464107

I donated Tucker’s cat…who was inspired by Ilona’s cat. Who is Tucker? He’s the very cool psychic you all will meet in THE REUNITED…due out in 2012

Ilona… thanks for letting me steal err…borrow your cat.

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Okay, so this happened a week or two ago. It’s lousy and it sucks and the bloggers who actually spoke out are getting hate mail, and they are getting bullied.

The really beautiful thing is that it was a YA blogger who was the plagiagist.  A very prominent one.  I’ll be honest.  A YA blogger is going to have lots of YA…lots of teens flocking to her blog.  I’d hold a YA blogger to a higher standard.  I’ve got a teen in my house and anybody who might have my teen in her audience?  I’d rather you not be a thief and a liar.

Yes…I discussed it with my teen and this blogger was kinda marked off the list of sites my kid will visit.  Kid was rather disgusted with the blogger.  But she’s also a budding writer, the child of a writer…she knows the value of words, and she understands the work that goes into them.

I also hope the blogger never really spoke out against bullying…if she did?  The message didn’t take, because many of her loyal followers are attacking those who spoke out against.  That’s another really disgusting part.  It’s more blame the victim stuff.

I spoke my mind about this over at the Smart Bitches blog and I think I said everything i wanted to say there, so I’ll just paste my comment here…

People…writing is hard. It doesn’t matter if you’re writing a book, writing a blog, writing a review, etc. Writing is hard. You’re pulling the words from inside you and they mean something.

I’ve had my words stolen and it sucks.

If you haven’t been there, then you don’t have much ground to stand on when you’re pulling the… UR A BITCH and UR JEALOUS and SHE’S IS AWESOME AND AUTHORS LOOK UP TO HER… (FYI, I’m an author and I don’t.) She’s also a blogger who is forever off the list of blogs my kid will be allowed to visit.

It’s that old… WALK A MILE IN THEIR SHOES. If you can’t do that, all you’re throwing around is empty words. You’re also setting yourself up for karma in the worst way, because everything comes back on you. If you treat people fair, you tend to get fair treatment. If you ride them down, you get ridden down. And…well, in the case of the Story Siren…she treated people like waste when she stole from them. This is the consequence. When you lash out in her defense and get ugly over it, you’re setting yourself for future consequence yourself.

here’s my suggestion…

Think of something you worked really, really hard on. Something you put a lot of time into… whatever it may be. Maybe it was a school assignment. Maybe it was some sort of artistic creation. I don’t know… but you worked HARD, and you accomplished something and you ARE PROUD OF IT. Hell, maybe it’s a relationship. You’ve got a great boyfriend and you two are wonderfully happy and it’s awesome.

And then somebody comes in and claims that work as their own. Or some tramp comes in and steals your boyfriend, or at least makes a play for him that just leaves you feeling sucker-punched.

They don’t credit you. They don’t thank you. They take your hard work, claim it as their own and just walk on. It’s a betrayal.

It’s wrong. It’s theft. It’s cheating.

And the bottom line, if you can’t see that… it means you’ve never invested that much of yourself in something. Which really… well, it’s kinda sad.

To all the bloggers who stand up against this, you have my appreciation.

Now… I dunno if it will happen, but if by chance any of those defenders show up here…I have a policy against those who can’t keep a civil tongue…or tone.  Want to argue with me?  Fine.  But do it with a civil tone…my blog is for my readers and they don’t need to read nastiness.  You can argue without spewing hatred.  I do it all the time.  Get ugly or nasty and the posts do get deleted… or at least modified.  That’s the blog policy and it’s been made clear up front.

Want to email me hate mail?  That’s cool, too.  The contact button is right up there at the top, but don’t expect a response.  I don’t waste my time with UR A BITCH or UR JUST JEALOUS.

I don’t have a reason to be jealous of a plagiarist and I already tell people I’m a bitch, so there’s not much to respond to there, anyway.

Okay.  Two cents spoken.

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I mentioned last week that I thought I had news.  I do.  I have news… and I shall tell.

There may be more, I dunno yet… we shall see, but for now…

This is Beautiful Scars, a book I wrote in a mad rush back in December after I saw a picture.  No, I’m not sharing the picture, because that would be spoilers, but I saw a picture and it inspired a book.

This book…

~*~

He could have kept on playing, just for her.  Forever.  He’d forgotten how amazing it was to do this.  Playing for himself was amazing.  Playing for his fans…yeah, he loved that.

But there was something magic about sitting there in the dark and playing for her.

It was almost like he could talk to her through the music, and even though she said nothing back, he could hear her answer just in the way she moved, the way she smiled.

And it had always been like this, he realized.

Chaili seemed to find almost the same pleasure in the music that he did.

That same little smile bowed her pretty mouth up and she swayed, one hand curled around the wine glass, the other tapping out a rhythm on her thigh.

He had an image of catching the hem of her skirt.  Pushing it up. Okay…that wasn’t anything that had happened before tonight.  But he had a feeling he’d be thinking hot and dirty thoughts about her for a long, long time after this. Hell, he was wondering why he hadn’t done it before.

Closing his eyes, he tried to focus back on the music, but he couldn’t block her out.

It was all there, twining through his mind.  The raw, powerful vibe of the music.   The song.  The image of his hands on her thighs.  Pushing that pretty skirt up. Catching the silken hose she wore and dragging them down, her panties…leaving her naked under that skirt.  Then he’d play a little while longer.  Just a little while, as he thought about her being naked under that elegant little white dress.

Get a grip, Marc.  Or you’re going to lose it before you even get started…

Get started.  Shit, was he actually thinking of trying to do this…

Hell, yes.

He must have lost his mind somewhere in the time he’d seen her standing the office of Escortè and when he’d started playing for her back at the party, but he had every intention of having a taste of her.  Just once, he thought.  They were friends, right?  They could have a night of nice, friendly sex and then go back to being friends…

Yes, because that had worked so well before.

Stop it, man.  This isn’t Lily.  It won’t happen that way.  And if you can’t get that through your head, you need to just take her home now, he told himself.

No.  She wasn’t Lily.

And he’d be damned if he took her home just yet.  Unless that was what she wanted.

Clearing his throat, he took the glass of wine from her.  “Ah…are you wanting to head home or you wanna hang around a while?”

She slid him a smile as she took the glass of wine back.  “Hey, you played me one song.  That does not a concert make.”

Hot damn.

“Walking in Memphis?”

She just smiled.

He rolled into it, watching her a little closer this time.  She was watching his hands again.  Her face was flushed, although he didn’t think it was the wine.  He’d had as much as she was and it was just the one bottle.  Couldn’t just be the wine, right?

She all but groaned as he launched into the one part that got to her, every damn time.

She said, “Tell me are you a Christian child?”

And I said, “Ma’am, I am tonight

His voice dropped, lower, rougher.

A shudder went through her and she grabbed the glass of wine, drank it down.  They’d emptied the bottle and she wished she could blame the heat burning inside her on that, but it wasn’t that.  It was him.  Always him–

“What is it about you and that song?”

As the music faded, she jerked her head up, saw him staring at her.

She tried to shrug.  It wasn’t the song, it was him.  Something about the way he sang it, hell, the way he sang anything…She licked her lips and stared off into the distance, trying to figure out the right way to say something that wasn’t a lie, but didn’t leave her stripped bare.

A harsh groan reached her ears.

Startled, she looked at him, realized he was staring at her mouth.

Two seconds later, he was reaching for her.

Stunned, she couldn’t think. As his lips covered hers, she couldn’t think.

Marc was kissing her.

Damn it.

Marc was kissing her–

Had she drank more wine than she’d thought?

“Open your mouth,” he snarled against her lips, a harsh, urgent command in his voice.  “Give me your mouth.”

Dazed, she did just that, opened for him.

His arms came around her as his tongue stroked across the bottom of her lip, slowly, seductively…teasingly.  Oh, hell.  She was in trouble.  Big, big trouble…

~*~

This is an erotic contemporary romance and now, I can tell you one of the things I’ve been so cryptic about.  :) Grand Central’s Romance imprint Forever Romance has bought it…plus another book (more info on that one later on).  It’s going into their digital line, and might be out in print as well.  Release date not known…I’ll get that info to you once I have yet.  But it’s written. And now?  It’s SOLD!

Kindle

I’m working on the edits for the UK version of IF YOU SEE HER…this mostly just included making sure the formatting is okay, but it must be done.

I still love this scene.  :) (FYI, if you haven’t read these books, there is no spoiler here, but please keep in mind, don’t try to read the Ash (link) books out of order…start with IF YOU HEAR HER)

“Is that a polite way of telling me to leave?” Remy said, lifting a golden brow.

Hope swallowed, then bit her lip. “Actually, it wasn’t much of an attempt to be polite—I’ve got some things to do and I’m sure you have better things to do than stand around in here with me.”

“Actually…” he looked down at the glass of tea he held in his hand, stared at it as though he found it fascinating. “Now that you mention it, you’re kind of the reason I came out here.”

“I am?”

Her heart started racing, but this time it was fear. Oh, God.

He’d said she wasn’t going to be arrested, and for some reason, she did believe him. But that didn’t mean he wanted somebody like her hanging around his town.

She had already caused all sorts of trouble or at least, it seemed like it had followed her. Despite the fact that she’d only been in town a few weeks, she already knew the kind of influence the Jennings family had around here. Was he here because…

“Hope?”

Screw that, she thought, turning away from him once more. She poured her own tea and took a sip, slowly, deliberately. You haven’t done anything wrong. This is Law’s home—as long as he says you’re welcome, you don’t have to go anywhere.

“Hey, are you in there?”

Shooting Remy a narrow look over her shoulder, she bit off, “I’m standing right here. Where else would I be?”

Turning around, she lifted her glass to her lips, took another drink of the tea. Her throat was still dry, burning tight, and her heart raced. But she was mad, and getting madder. Fed up, she realized.

It had taken her almost fifteen years to find her stopping point, but damn it, she was sick and tired of being pushed around and if this slick lawyer thought he had any right…

“Why do you suddenly look so pissed off?” Remy asked.

“Why?” Hope asked slowly. She sat the glass down and then folded her arms over her chest, staring at him. “Well, let me see. First I get arrested for something I didn’t do. I get attacked. Nobody believed me when I said I didn’t hurt Law, except Law, of course. Well, Law and a few other people. But that’s beside the point. I didn’t do a damn thing. And now you’re out here harassing me. I didn’t do a damn thing wrong and if you think you can make me leave your precious little town, you can shove it.”

Remy blinked. Then he passed a hand over his face and muttered something too low for her to hear. Finally, he looked back at her and said, “Okay, exactly what have I done that you consider harassment, Hope? And when in the hell did I say anything about you leaving?”

“Well, why else would you be here?” she demanded defensively. Spine rigid, she shoved off the counter and just barely resisted the urge to back away as he took a step toward her. “It’s not like you and Law are best buds or something. Are you?”

“No.” He snorted. “Up until the past few weeks, I could hardly stand him, if you want the honest truth.”

“Well, then.” Hope sniffed. That just proved he was too much an idiot to waste time on anyway. “See? You’re not hanging out here to shoot the breeze with him, so the only other reason you’d be here would be me.”

Remy blew out a slow breath. “I’m following that part of your logic, but I still fail to see why you automatically assume I’m here because I’m trying to run you out of town.”

“What else would it be?” She hunched her shoulders. “Unless you lied about not wanting me arrested. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”

Remy closed his eyes and tried to figure out if he had ever heard a more convoluted line of thinking.

He was pretty sure he had—after all, he was a lawyer, he’d heard some seriously inventive arguments.

But this…Opening his eyes, he studied her heartshaped face. Without all that hair, she didn’t look so fragile, he realized. Not that she really was, he was coming to realize. A fragile woman would have broken after what had been done to her. No matter what people thought, Hope hadn’t broken. She had been forced to bend, to take unimaginable shit and heartbreak.

But she hadn’t broken.

She had to be one of the strongest women he’d ever met.

Still, just looking at her flooded him with the most insane urges—the need to protect her. The need to touch her. The need to fuck her. The need to see her laugh. To smile…at him.

And she thought he was here because he wanted her out of town? His town? Like he owned the damned ground it was built on?

Shit.

“I’m not here because I’m trying to run you out of town,” he finally said, when he thought he might be able to say it in a somewhat level voice.

With that doubt still glinting in her pale green eyes, she jerked one shoulder in a shrug . “Fine. Then whatever you’re doing here, would you please just get it done? Please? So you can leave?”

Something moved inside him. It might have been anger. Might have been wounded pride. Might have been frustration…or all of the above. “Just get it over with?” he repeated, some of his tension edging into his voice.

“Yes.” She swallowed. “Please.”

“So polite. Even when you’re that pissed off at me. Still so polite,” he murmured. “Okay, Hope. I’ll get it over with.”

Then he closed the two feet between them. He wanted to touch her…fuck it, he wanted it so bad, he hurt with it, ached with it, would have gone to his knees and begged if he thought it would have done any good.

Instead, he jammed one hand into a pocket, closed it in a fist.

The other, he used the tip of his finger and used it to lift her chin.

He had just a second to see her eyes flare wide before he dipped his head and brushed his mouth against hers. Just the lightest brush—hardly enough to even get a taste.

Still, that one taste blistered through him, rushed through him, setting his blood to boil.

He heard her gasp, felt it…and as her lips parted against his, he wanted, desperately to tease that slight opening with his tongue, see if he couldn’t coax her mouth into opening for him, just a little more.

Instead, he whispered against her lips, “I’ve wanted to do that from the first second I laid eyes on you.”

Kindle

Now available…

“What in the hell do you know about love, you damned iceberg?”

She never even saw him move. One moment, he was three feet away. And then he was only inches away, his long body, so lean and warm, caging hers in against something cool and metal—a car? Truck? She didn’t know, didn’t care. One hand rested by her shoulder. The other cupped her chin. “More than you would think, sweet. Far more than you would think.” Then his mouth was on hers.

An iceberg.

She thought he was an iceberg.

Little fool.

Her mouth was still under his, for the briefest moment. He knew it wouldn’t last long, and he intended to make the most of it. She wanted to wither away and die, did she?

Perhaps she needed to see just how much life she still had inside her.

Oh, but she was sweet…he’d known she would be. Her mouth was soft, even though she was still frozen with shock. Soft, and she tasted like soft, warm woman, cherries and Coke… She lived on Cherry Coke, it seemed. He could live on the taste of it on her, he supposed.

Stroking his tongue along the curve of her lower lip, he teased her lips apart, delving inside the second he had an opportunity. He didn’t believe in wasting those.

Her fingers curled into the front of his coat and over the roaring of blood in his ears, he heard the soft, broken sound of her breath…and even sweeter, the erratic beat of her heart. Her body wilted against his—he felt the push of her breasts, the softness of her belly, the long lines of the body she treated so carelessly. There was wanting in her body, needing…she wanted, she needed. Him…she wanted him.

For that moment—he felt it.

And then he felt her fist.

Read another excerpt…

Samhain | Amazon | BN

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I have a thing for cameras.  I love taking pictures.  I’ve never bought a camera on impulse, though. Um.  Until now.  It seduced me with it’s mega pixels and special features and shininess.  The Nikon D5100.  Sold in many places, but you can’t have mine…

LOOK!  SEE!  Pretteh picture!