The Top 5 Fictional Character Deaths That Destroyed My Soul

I'm an emotional person, regardless of what my enemies might scream in the face my cold, merciless fury. This extends to fiction. It has to, if I'm going to do my job as a writer. Being able to put myself in the shoes of a character helps me craft more believable conflicts and heartaches before my characters can get their HEA. But what really pisses me off is that some people, some horrible, awful, terrible, mean, butt hole people, don't let the characters get their HEA. Sometimes, they just straight up kill them.

Because this post is going to be all about characters I love who have died and left me with a gaping hole in my still beating heart, pumping gallons of blood and gore all over the place, there are going to be spoilers. Since I'm nice, be aware that there will be spoilers for the following movies/tv shows/books after the jump. If you click anyway, it's your funeral. So, last warning, if you click the jump, the following tv shows/books/movies WILL be spoilered for you:

Misfits
The Green Mile (book and movie)
Buffy The Vampire Slayer (comic books)
The Walking Dead (tv show)
A Song of Ice and Fire
Atonement (book and movie)

I'm not just an author. I'm the preschool Oprah.

My daughter recently started preschool. She's really enjoying being around kids her age (my son is nine, and she's three), and she loves her teachers and likes taking a break from me three days a week. I know she enjoys the break, because she told me, when last night she tearfully begged me not to come to her school today to be the class helper: "I don't want you to come to my school, mommy! That's my time away from you!"

After I pinkie swore that I would not cramp her style, and that she didn't even have to talk to me if she didn't want to, she relented and agreed that I could, indeed, be the preschool helper.

Let me tell you something about me and children. I think kids are pretty awesome. But I don't think I've ever been a kid in my entire life. When I was about five, a boy asked me to play doctor, and I, not understanding that "playing doctor" is a game of exploration and titillation, told him he had esophageal cancer and needed chemotherapy. I spent my childhood mostly around adults and teenagers. So, I've never related to children very well. The idea of spending three hours in a room full of eighteen three-year-olds is a terrifying prospect to me, like unto staring into the untempered schism.

I was pleasantly surprised to find that preschool is not the nightmare void of madness I'd expected it to be. There was a lot of snot. And a bathroom accident. Those things, I suppose I should have expected. I ran a paint station, where the kids painted a picture of a tooth with a toothbrush. It wasn't terribly hard, and it definitely helped that I had a little girl who sat next to me, prompting me with, "You forgot to talk about the root of the tooth," and "You can't say deciduous, he won't know what that means." I learned what kind of toothpaste and toothbrush every kid had. I'm actually astonished that there are toothbrushes for so many different characters, although I doubt the veracity of one claim, as it came from the same boy who insisted that he'd once killed a cheetah.

Slowly, the kids would just open up about something crazy and totally unconnected with painting or teeth. One boy told me that his mom is mean, then went on to describe said meanness, which I assure you, to a three-year-old, was horrific. Games where put on shelves, high up, where they cannot be reached. This cruel and unusual punishment was inflicted upon the poor child for simply being naughty! I assured him that his mom wasn't mean, she was just doing her job, because there have to be consequences in life. He nodded sagely, as if understanding every word, then said, "What's consequences mean?"

A little girl opened up about her struggles with thumb-sucking. She talked the way people talk in drug counseling: "I know I can't, because see, my teeth keep going backward, and I know they put the cream on my thumb that tastes so nasty, but I feel like I'm going to just start sucking my thumb and I can't help it!"

Another boy expressed his frustration with mothers the world over for their choice in favorite Star Wars characters: "Moms always like Han Solo best, because he's handsome. Luke is better!"

By the time snack time had rolled around, I had started thinking to myself, "wow, kids have just as many problems as we do." While it might not be as hard to quit sucking your thumb as it would be to kick heroin cold turkey, that kid was struggling with the same emotions of any addict. And the kid who who couldn't understand why anyone would like Han Solo when Luke Skywalker is clearly better... how is that different from grown ups arguing over politics on facebook?

So, my daughter and I have reached an accord, because now she realizes that mommy isn't going to cramp her style at school, and I don't dread next month's helper day quite as much as I was before this one. I think I might actually look forward to it.

I don't make New Year's Resolutions, I make New Year's ResoAWESOMES.

Next week, it will be a new year. Every time we roll around the week after Christmas, my mind is blown. We're about to leave the old year behind. We're about to start a new one! But in this space in between, when no one is doing anything truly constructive, people are just kind of screwing off at their jobs in anticipation of the big end-of-year party, when banks and schools and libraries have insanely strange hours, everything feels so... liminal.

I love liminal spaces. As a kid, I used to hang out in door ways. So this week? This week is my week. I'm standing directly in the doorway of the new year, with the old behind me. When I step through, I need to be prepared.

At this point, I could make a lot of common resolutions. I could say I plan to lose weight. I plan to work harder and write more books. I plan to have a clean house all the time. I'll always have freshly baked cookies, I'll shower every day and wear makeup. I'll go on walks, I'll stop yelling at my dog when kicking him would suffice. No, I'm totally kidding about that last one. My dog lives to be yelled at. It's our love language.

But none of those resolutions would make me happy. People concentrate on using the new year in terms of how to make themselves a better person. By whose standards? I'm a great person already. I'm awesome, and everyone likes me. That's not bragging, that just an honest assessment of the situation. And while I definitely have areas to work on, that's between me and my therapist. That had nothing to do with building the best possible 2012 for me.

So here, in no particular order, are my resolutions for 2012:

1. Build a time machine. Go back to 1994. Enjoy the comforts and prosperity therein.
2. Oh, but put a wifi hotspot in my time machine, because for real, I'm not dealing with dial-up or America Online.
3. Watch at least one episode of Doctor Who every day.
4. Spend as much time just goofing off as I do writing.
5. Craft. Craft like a whore with her ass on fire. If that whore was a crafter.
6. Teach my toddler more swears to shock conservative relatives.
7. Stop worrying about my weigh and my body, because for serious, it's broken down. I need to recognize that God gives everyone different gifts. Mine is eating a whole tray of cupcakes.
8. Figure out the time zone difference between here and Hawaii so I'm not constantly waking up my Navy friend.

Let's just all hope the new year is as prosperous as my year in alternate-past 1994 will be, everybody!

It Must Be Thursday

There is this line from Buffy The Vampire Slayer where Willow or someone says, "Buffy, Dawn's in trouble!" And Buffy answers, "Must be a Tuesday". I'm feeling very Dawn-esque these days, except my name is Mia and for me, "It must be Thursday."

Today, like the past month of Thursdays, is another challenge waiting for my attention. You see, my air conditioner broke down on the first day of the hottest month of the year, in the hottest heatwave Grand Rapids, Michigan has had in years. Yes, that's my luck. Fortunately a guy friend (for he is not my boyfriend, but also not exactly a friend, but a guy I date sometimes. And by date, I mean fool around with when I'm bored--translate that however you want to) gave me his AC window unit. But, I don't work in my bedroom, so, I spend the days sweating--much less than sexy. And now, here I sit in air conditioned comfort, at Bronwyn Green's house. It's a beautiful thing... until I have to go back home again.

So I've been dating (follow me here, folks. I switched topics. Yes, I can do that.) a bunch lately. I'm not exactly sure how it all happened. I mean, I'm not exactly man-manna and so the fact that I've had six dates in the last five days with three different men, seems a bit--okay, a lot--out of character for me. Livin' the dream baby.

Here's the thing though. One of the guys looks like my ex but he's so nice. That's the AC giving guy. He's kind, non-judgmental, and if it makes me happy, then he's content. There's another guy I really hit it off with. I like him. He makes me laugh and makes me a little nervous. He kisses like crap and I have no desire to get physical with him for other reasons I wouldn't be a lady for mentioning. The third guy is hot. Like FREAKIN' HOT, but it doesn't look like he's going to call me back. I think the male/male erotic romance writer schtick kind of turned him cold. Too bad, because although he was a dick, I'd kind of like to keep that one around for visual stimulation.

Sadly, none of them get my motor going. It's like kissing a friend. Or a brother. I mean, you can squint your eyes and pretend, but all in all, they aren't the ones I want to end up with.

Back to the drawing board.

Any advice for the chronically dating? I'd love to hear it.

Ten Signs Of Meltdown

Now I know you can all identify. Things go undone. You feel overwhelmed. And you can’t seem to fix anything. Nothing goes right. I’m feeling a lot of all of that right now. The pressures of family and writing and promotions just have me twisted like a pretzel.

But that’s how life goes. We are constantly inundated with the unexpected. Constantly pummeled with this or that to the point that we don’t know which way to turn. And what happens?

We have a melt-down.

Personally, my melt-down seems to be an ongoing thing. And I’ve learned to recognize all of the signs too. I can honestly visualize myself like the witch in the Wizard Of Oz, and I’ll turn to the nearest family member and say: “I’m melting…I’m melting…” They tend to back away when I do that. LOL

I thought it would be kind of fun to work up a list for everyone so you, too, could recognize all the trigger signs of melt-down. Oh, and I’ve posted this list before on another blog but since I have some torn cartilage that is giving me fits and the Tylenol isn’t touching the pain---I thought I could post it here as well as I’m sure most of you haven’t seen this list yet. So here it is:

1.    Your house possesses a permanent scorched scent from all the food you’ve burned.

2.    The cupboards contain a lot of green beans. A lot.

3.    You look at your bubble-headed eighteen-year old and actually say: “It’s your life, honey. You have to live it as you see fit.” All of this just before she gets into a car with a guy who looks like he is a throwback from Hell.

4.    The bank teller looks at your ID and swears it isn’t you.

5.    You email your best friend with a rant about your boss just to discover you emailed your boss.

6.    You get up in the morning and pick up the hairbrush, squint, and decide that bed-head suits you.

7.    You tell the cop that the redlight was only red for a few seconds before you went through it.

8.    So what if the flashing light says you’re low on gas? You’ve got enough fumes to make it home.

9.    When someone asks you what time it is, you ask them why they want to know.

10.  You think the mailman is coming on to you. After all, he’s at your door almost every day.

So if you recognize any of these symptoms, you’re having a melt-down. What do I recommend you do about it? Just go with the flow. Sometimes it can be kind of fun to see people look at you like you’re crazy. LOL And I’d love it if all of you would share your own personal melt-down symptoms.

Now for today’s book trailer showcase: Created by Tina with Topaz Promos http://topazpromos.com the video was made for Stormy Glenn’s Love Sexy from Siren Publishing.

http://tessmackall.com

Heroism, what be thou?

Like most of us, I suffer from author Multiple Personality Disorder. It's a little difficult to keep things flowing from one aspect of my persona to the other. Especially when I have friends who don't understand writing, don't read, think I'm nuts for writing what I write, and generally are unimpressed that I know famous people (and trust me, with the name dropping I've done, I could have sunk the Titanic all over again, <--Just realized that makes me sound like an ass, but I promise, if I'm an ass, I'm a really nice one. *blink* So now I just sound like I have absolutely no humility. I think I'll stop while I'm a head.).

BUT (she said, trying to get back on topic), I'm gonna veer around this topic until I finally figure out my point, bear with me. It's only because I'm actually trying to draw from two totally opposite directions.

What directions, you may ask? Writing romances and Biggest Loser and heroism. No, srly. And here's why.

We write about heroes. Duh. Not exactly a news flash. But what is it that makes our heroes heroic? I remember when I was a brand new baby writer, I had this book with a woman (what? I can write women, shut up) in it. The way I had written the story, she did prevail in the end, but for the majority of the book she was petulant and childish (that's what I get for modeling my heroine after the books of teh 80z). I sent it to a contest thingy, and three of the five judges wrote, "Not heroic" in the margin. Sure they said it in different ways, yet the message was the same. Characters throwing hissy fits, stomping their size four and a half feet, tossing their "wild mane of curls", and pouting with cherry red lips (gag. gag. gag) aren't heroic. They're just childish.

So back to boyz. Because I like me some of that.

What makes a hero, heroic? Is it because he puts up with the above type heroine and doesn't lose his patience? Is it because he handles all the problems with his big broad shoulders and never lets on how difficult it is? Is it because he's freakin' hawt and he lets his woman be her own person, save her own day, make her own discoveries while he screws her senseless and loves her unendingly (okay, I think that one got my vote. Way to go, subconscious!)?

Now to Biggest Loser. You still with me? I record shows, because they are inconveniently on. Last night while I worked on the day job (which bleed over by a lot), I had Biggest Loser playing in the background. They had this "Final Exam" thing with each of the trainers. When they got to Jillian, I started tearing up. I was annoyed, because displays of emotion for no apparent reason trigger my WTF button in a big way.

But then I realized why it got to me. I teared up because she was playing the part of someone who feels defeated by their failures. The job of the contestant was to give her usable advice to show her what they'd learned about self-worth. But here's the clencher: One of the contestants realized what she was doing. She said, at some point she heard all the words she used to say about herself, coming out of Jillian's mouth like they were her own problems.

With that in mind, I listened to contestant after contestant deal with their own self-doubt and self-hatred in the guise of comforting Jillian through her weakness. OMG! TEARZ! Contestant after contestant, all but one having lost more than 100 pounds at this point (the other lost 98), were faced with their own words. Their own tape recorder of hate that they used to play. "I'm a failure. I never accomplish anything. I'm too fat/short/stupid to deserve happiness. I'm so tired of my life." And who wouldn't be with that kind of baggage, that kind of verbal butt-kicking? I just wanted to hug them all.

As writers, I think we deal with the self-recriminations too. If we write, we feel guilty about not spending time with the family. If we don't write, we feel guilty about not working. If we don't sell enough, we decide we're inadequate/stupid/bad writers/terrible people. If we sell a lot, it only lasts until the next royalty check when, if it dips, we wonder where we went wrong. If our family disapproves, we might hide what we do, defend what we do, blush because of what we do. We face social ridicule for writing "those books" and even though we're proud of them, the sting does eventually settle in as defensiveness.

And here's where I tie all this together. I have this fan-girl. Her name is Amanda P. She's from England and she is the most amazing woman. Despite any of her own life drama, she never fails to send me encouragement. I get long emails from her a couple of times a week talking about my talent. Admittedly, it's hard to hear. I have my own tape recorder of failures playing, and hers, talking over it, confuses my tiny mind. Her latest email made me think of Biggest Loser and those heart wrenching confessions. It made me think of how easily we give the title "hero" to a fictitious character, but forget to remember the heroes we see everyday.

The heroes like you. Like me. Like your neighbor, Bob, who looks like he doesn't care a whit that his dog just went in your yard. Even he has that tape recorder. Some people just live up to that expectation they have for themselves. Some people strive to improve. Some people struggle under the weight of their own self-hate, never realizing that they are heroes. HEROES!

Amanda wrote me this, in her most recent email. It's all I'm going to share because it was a private email, and she knows stuff that I don't want to put out there. Also, pretend she's talking to you. Pretend it all day long and remind yourself of it when your tape recorder begins to play.

I say, don't you always find  the ones who can laugh about the shit that has literally been thrown at them are always the bestest of people and have to have any problems dragged out of them? It makes my respect for you grow because, although i am aware you weren't fishing for it and certainly don't think you deserve it, to follow your dreams against opposition and keep trying despite all the setbacks sounds bloody heroic to me.

~Amanda P.

One breath in. Now breathe out. YOU are a hero. Believe it.

~Mia

Horny, Hard, and Hare-y is out!

I'm happy to announce that Horny, Hard, and Hare-y is available from Resplendence Publishing as of yesterday!

Blurb:

It's time for the annual race, and tortoise shifter, Duncan, is finally going to catch some tail—hare shifter tail, otherwise known as Charlie. With Gibbs, their owl shifter friend, keeping an eye out overhead, they're off and running. But Charlie is as spontaneously careless as the fairytale hare and finds himself caught by local DNR officer, Ben.

The full moon is rising, and if Charlie stays collared through the Hare Moon, he'll remain an animal forever. It's up to Duncan and Gibbs to free him before time is up. But in telling their secret, will they lose Ben forever? It's a foursome waiting to happen, where Ben reconnects with a mysterious lover, and the tortoise finally catches his hare.

Excerpt:

Charlie Cuelho glanced over his furry brown shoulder. His ears twitched, ruffling a little in the breeze as his constantly moving nose tried to find Duncan’s scent on the wind. Charlie had time, lots of time, so he stopped to run a soft paw behind his long ear and down his nose. He practically shivered at how awesome that felt, so he repeated the motion.

“You’re going to lose again.” A great horned owl settled onto a nearby branch.

“I’m fine, Gibbs. He’s nowhere in sight,” Charlie disregarded. Besides, having the tortoise in his sites as he won the race was exactly what he wanted. He just didn’t want to push it too close. The fact that he’d be able to laud the achievement over Duncan again and again, didn’t hurt either. There was nothing sexier than a pissed off tortoise shifter, who owed you a debt.

Since Charlie had yet to decide what that debt would be, it would only make the moment sweeter. Definitely something Duncan didn’t want to do, like kiss him whenever Charlie snapped his fingers. For an entire month. Yeah, that would be awesome.

“That’s what you said last time, and he won. You two are a cliché,” Gibson complained, tearing Charlie away from his thoughts.

“Fuck you,” Charlie barked.

He stood up on his hind legs, trying to make his exclamation sound more impressive. Which was difficult, considering he was a hare and too damn fluffy to be imposing.

“You mean, fuck like a bunny?” Gibbs made a sound like a sniff. Which wasn’t possible, technically, since he didn’t have a nose—in owl form. “I shouldn’t be warning you, but there’s a trap ahead.”

“I’ll jump it.” A movement caught Charlie’s eye, and the tell-tale scent of tortoise reached his sensitive, ever moving nose. “You know, most owls sleep in the daytime. You don’t make a very convincing shape shifter if you can’t keep the same habits.” He’d waited long enough. Duncan’s head poked from behind a bush, stretching for a better look. “Gotta go!” Charlie told the owl.

“Wait!” Gibbs called.

Charlie didn’t wait, he wouldn’t. It was just a ploy to get him to slow down enough so that the tortoise would win the race, a-damn-gain. Every year it was the same thing, laundry chores and dishes for six weeks. If Duncan had ever made him pay up creatively, Charlie might have lost on purpose. Stinky laundry and dishes weren’t creative.

Bathing Duncan for six weeks—with my tongue—now that would be hot.

Charlie raced forward, leaping over leaves and branches. His hips twisted in mid-air, knocking his long back paws together like he was clicking his heels, before they came down, dug in and pushed him off even faster.

No way was Duncan going to win another race. Not this time. No fucking way. He glanced back as he made another leap. Exultant that he didn’t see Duncan anywhere near him, he bounded happily onward. Twigs popped under his feet. Leaves rattled this way and that, with each successive jump forward. He had this race in the ba—.

His back left paw extended. Momentum carried him to a lurching stop and Charlie scrambled uncomprehendingly, when his left paw remained immobile, no matter how he shook it.

Overhead, Gibbs circled, screeching alarm. He’d be saying “I told you so”, unless the hunter was nearby to hear him.

Charlie’s heart hammered in rapid staccato beats. His keen eyes caught the flicker of movement even before he heard the crunch of boots. Charlie froze instinctively. He huddled making himself as small as possible, even though he knew it was already too late. He’d been seen, and trapped, just like Gibbs had warned.

Fuck!

“It’s okay, little guy. No one’s gonna hurt you,” the gentle voice of a man reached him. It sounded hypnotic and soothing. A voice like that could make a guy forget that he’d just been snared, and might end up as somebody’s stew meat.

Wouldn’t this dude be surprised when he tried to skin him and found a naked man instead? Charlie almost smirked. Except he couldn’t, because he was busy freaking out at the moment.

This is the second book I did for a five person, year long anthology. My first book, Unchaste, released in March. I loved this project! We had a very few rules: Word count, menage, shape shifters coinciding with the moon on the month of our release, and a happily ever after for everyone. Some of us wrote m/m, but there are several m/f books too. Check us out at ResplendencePublishing.com

Welcome Our Guest Elizabeth Black

For The Love Of Women
By Elizabeth Black

Loving women comes naturally to me, but I didn't know that when I was in college. I always thought you were either gay or straight. I didn't know you could love both men and women. So I learned by the time I was in my late twenties that I was bi-sexual. I've often fantasized about making love to a woman as far back as high school but the opportunity never presented itself except once, and she turned out to be very, very straight. I gave her many different kinds of educations. For instance, she was a vegetarian, and I got her to eat bacon. The gateway meat. LOL Soon she was eating cow and chicken. I don't know if she went back to being vegetarian but she did take a walk on the wild side for a little while there. However, my first and only experience making love to a woman didn't work out as I had hoped it would. I loved her, too. Even though it didn't work out the way I had hoped, we remained friends and are friends to this day.

I've created many lesbian and bisexual female characters, and Bridget and Gillian in "Things That Go Hump In The Night" are only my latest. This short paranormal lesbian story appears in the anthology "I Kissed A Girl II: More Virgin Lesbian Stories" published by Ravenous Romance. All my female characters feel a great lust for life and they help to open up their bi-curious lovers to the joys of both womanly sex and exotic living. My first lesbian character was Amelia in "Lost In Her Mouth". She appears in my short story anthology "Tales Of Lust And Longing", published by Whiskey Creek Press Torrid. Amelia is a very tactile-oriented young woman who loves to taste and feel everything around her – including her lover. My two favorites are Angelina and Charlotte in my favorite lesbian short story "Neighbors", which appears in the "Vamps" lesbian anthology published by Torquere Press. Angelina is based on Angelina jolie and Charlotte is based on Charlotte Lewis. Yes, I like a particular body type – long dark hair and skin, exotic features, muscular yet lithe, with large breasts and big hips. I don't do blondes, LOL. Ange and Charlotte invite staid, stick-in-the-mud Annie into their world, and there's no turning back! Annie dives into a world of decadent food, fine wine, a love of leisure, and exciting sex. Coming soon: Gatria, Sun, and Shira who appear in yet another lesbian story "Unfolding Her Wings", soon to be published in the anthology "Women On The Edge Of Space", by Circlet Press. This is my first science fiction story. Characters like Ange, Charlotte, Gillian, Sun, Gatria, Shira, and Amelia are very appealing to me. They break rules, think outside the box, enjoy their bodies and their lover's bodies, and there's no holding them back. I see them as my alter ego.

So, are you interested in meeting these fascinating women? You may find cover art and links to "Neighbors" and "Lost In Her Mouth" on my web site.

"Neighbors" – Scroll down on the "Short Stories" page to "Vamps".

"Lost In Her Mouth" – in "Tales Of Lust And Longing"

And here is information about my newest release, "Things That Go Hump In The Night", appearing in the "I Kissed A Girl II: More Virgin Lesbian Stories" anthology.

Title: I Kissed a Girl II: More Virgin Lesbian Stories
Includes short story "Things The Go Hump In The Night" by Elizabeth Black
Paranormal erotic lesbian romance
Edited by Regina Perry
Publisher: Ravenous Romance
Publish Date: 2011-03-22
Word Count: 50,957
ISBN: 9781607773993
Price $4.99

Buy Links:

Ravenous Romance

Amazon Kindle

AllRomanceEBooks

Bookstrand

Elizabeth Black's Web Site "I Kissed A Girl II" Page

Blurb:

Our readers asked for it, and now we're pleased to present Volume II of first-time lesbian encounters inspired by Katy Perry's hit song! Seven returning authors continue to arouse, plus six new authors will not disappoint.

This diverse collection travels the globe and the ages. No two settings or circumstances are alike, proving that women from every walk of life and culture are curious and eager to explore their full sexuality...with each other.

The Moment by Nichelle Gregory

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Tarra, My Lovelies!

Hiya gang!

Today is my last day blogging here. Since starting work full time, I’ve had to sit down and seriously work out what I can comfortably manage without overstretching myself. Blogging is one of those things—I haven’t even written on my own blogs in an age—and something I need to remove from my list. Other things have also been placed in the “to do later” file.

I’m utterly dedicated to my job and family, and those two things take priority with me. Anything else has to wait its turn, and it’s unfair of me to continue here when I don’t have the time to write interesting posts that you’ll enjoy reading.

That said, it’s been great blogging here. I’ve met some wonderful people, made friends I wouldn’t have otherwise, and leave this blog knowing it was well worth the experience.

All that is left to say now is that I wish the other ladies well, all you readers and authors well, and may your lives take all the twists and turns you want, making you happy and fulfilled!

Bless you all, loves! See you around!

HUG!

Groovy Day!

I’m having a brilliant day today. How about you? I woke a bit groggy, but told myself to get going and get some serious work accomplished. I gave myself a target of three book covers. It’s 11:40 a.m., and I’ve made two, so if I continue at that rate, I’ll exceed what I set out to do. Some days just work, don’t they? Everything falls into place. Marvellous!

The latest news for me is that I finally finished the Victorian, subbed it, got a revise and resub where I needed to add a couple more chapters—gotta love editors who can see more than me—then resubbed. It got accepted (whoo hoo!) and I was lucky enough to be allowed to use my own cover. Whatcha think?

Today I have a release by Sarah Masters, Mane Attraction. How groovy! I made the cover for this too. I had a LOT of fun writing this because it’s laid back, funny (I hope!), and just a book where I took a chill pill and relaxed. Here’s hoping my humour makes you laugh too!

Here is the blurbage:

Dominic Hurley is an average guy, working in a book packing company and getting through his boring life the best way he knows how. One Friday night, after sinking one too many beers, he finds an animal on his apartment balcony window—an animal that changes his life.

Levian Brooke is that animal, although he’s also one sexy-as-hell man. He has arrived in London to make Dominic his mate—and to get Dominic’s help in a quest to free one of Levian’s family members from London Zoo.

Dominic is drawn into the seedier parts of his beloved London in his search for someone to create fake passports so Levian can return to where he came from. A sinister element find out his involvement in Levian’s quest and come after him.

It’s a race against time and a fight for his life as Dominic finds inner strength to do things he’d never even dreamed about.

You can buy it here if you're so inclined: BUY!

Well, folks, it’s short and sweet from me today, because I’m on a mission and I don’t want to fail. What are you up to?

Characters and Co-Authoring

What kind of couple do you prefer reading about? Do you want them both to be strong, to possibly clash a little with their ideas—which makes for some good sexual tension—or do you like the male strong and the woman less so?

When Tess MacKall and I began writing Black Cougar Curse, we knew Sam, our hero, had to be strong. Of course he did. After all, he’d been cursed and had carried the burden of that curse for too many years to count. He’d endured more years on this earth than anyone, roaming the mountains, waiting for his one true love to come along and break the curse. He longed for love, to be released, yet I have to wonder…wouldn’t that be scary? You’ve lived for a long time, mainly alone, and the prospect of your life changing drastically upon the appearance of your soul mate must be a daunting thing.

Sam copes with it beautifully, embracing the changes Lucia brings. He’s an adorable man who helps Lucia with her grief and also in telling her something about herself—something of which she had no clue before she arrived at his mountains.

So then we come to Lucia. Did we want a woman equally as strong as Sam, or did we want her to defer to him for the most part? No, we wanted a strong woman, someone to match Sam in every way—the perfect combination that was right for those characters.

I suppose each book demands different personalities. What works in one book with one h/h may not work in another when you take into account their lives, what they’re doing, and where they are headed. Toss in their personalities, and you’re left with deciding which one should be the stronger character, or whether they should be of equal strength.

That’s the beauty of writing, though, isn’t it? You get to choose, and sometimes your characters choose for you. For me, that’s always the best way. When characters appear already formed, their personalities and idiosyncrasies built in before I’ve even typed the first word…ah, the exquisite life of a writer!

We wrote the book last summer. I remember us flying through it, bouncing off one another, and feeling really lucky that we’d gelled so well as a pairing. I knew we would, but you always wonder if it will sour your friendship a little if you write with a pal. It didn’t. We told one another that falling out over words wasn’t an option, that if we found we didn’t get along inside a manuscript, we’d rather abandon it and return to just being buddies. Thankfully, it just worked, and I feel that together we created a really cool book, one with double the imagination and input.

Co-authoring is great. You only have to give half the word count LOL. You have nice breaks when your partner’s writing her chapter, and the discussions via email about where we were going next sometimes produced hilarity.

“So, what’s got to happen next?”

“Hell if I know!”

“Oh, I thought you might have something in mind.”

“Nope, I thought you did!”

And so it went on. Yes, we had a clear, pencilled-in outline of what the basic plot was about, but colouring in that picture was one of the most fun times I’ve had while writing. Together we made a setting, together we made two people fall in love, and together we combined our ideals, shaped them, and placed them on the page. I love the fact that I have shared this experience with Tess. It’s amazing that something we produced together is out there. I probably sound whacko, but it’s a privilege for another author to agree to let you into their writing space, into their mind and heart, and I will always feel blessed that Tess let me walk through that door.

By Lily Sawyer...

Please give a warm welcome to Lily Sawyer!

By Lily Sawyer; I keep looking at those words and I can’t quite get my mind around the fact that I’m a published writer.

It all started when I found out that my favorite show, Star Trek, had a fandom. And that Trekkies, as we called ourselves, wanted to see more of our favorite characters.  SO they started to write their own fiction; the first fanzines were born. And I was quite pleased when I accidently came across a professionally published Star Trek novel while browsing in the library. It became the impetus for my getting involved in writing fan fiction. Star Trek was the first fandom I wrote a story for. Then later I became involved in other fandoms, first as a reader and later taking the plunge into writing my own fiction. I never dreamed I’d be writing romance stories; I had never been interested in the genre before. I have a friend who was writing stories for Harlequin Romance and to show my support I bought her books.  

It wasn’t until 2006, after watching the movie Brokeback Mountain, that I discovered the world of gay romance fiction. I joined the fandom, first as a reader and then, because of the way the movie ended; I had to fix what I couldn’t stand. You should be able to love who you want without anyone telling you it’s a sin and that you’re going to hell because of it. The two characters from Brokeback couldn’t have the life they should have been able to lead, so I turned to writing fan fiction to change things so they were having a happy life. I met so many wonderful friends there and many of them had decided to write original stories and sell them to e-publishers. I decided to throw my hat into the ring. In 2009, I got my very first story published by Dreamspinner Press. The Finest Thing was part of their To Have and to Hold anthology that was released in June of 2009. I can’t tell you the thrill I had seeing my name on the cover and to have so many positive responses from readers and a nice review as well.

I got hooked on writing my own stories, and it wasn’t long before I got an idea for another one. Being from Long Island it was natural that I gravitated towards the water. So I had this idea for a merman story. I had no idea where I was going with it, but I just let my muse, and the merman, take me where they wanted me. And believe me, I was a willing captive. 

My merman story is titled Catch of the Day and it takes place in the Florida Keys.

I’ve fallen in love with this cover. I have to thank the talented artist, Reese Dante, for bringing my merman to life. And my editor, Sharon, for helping me dot the I’s and cross the T’s,  and to my many friends near and far who I am grateful for their never-ending encouragement and love.  I couldn’t have done this without you guys.

Here is an excerpt:

Kellan grabbed a cup of coffee and carried it out to the back deck of his beach house.  It had been a year since he moved from Chicago to the Florida Keys.  The two places were as different as night and day.  Back home there was a foot of snow on the ground and here the temperature didn’t make it down to the freezing point.  He certainly didn’t miss having to deal with the icy winds and the endless winters.

He’d worked as a car salesman for one of the biggest automakers, and had been recognized as their top seller two years in a row, but the accolades didn’t mean anything to him.   He felt like he’d become like a robot in the corporate world and he desperately needed a change.   He’d been looking at a travel magazine while sitting in his doctor’s waiting room and spotted an ad for the Florida Keys.

There was nothing holding him in Chicago, his parents had died a few years ago and they’d left him a nice inheritance.    He’d been in a serious long-term relationship, but after losing him in a tragic accident he decided this was the final straw and it was time to start a new life somewhere else.    

Now he had sunny days and a new business venture that got him excited to get up in the morning.    He’d always loved nature, he remembered going on family vacations to the mountains with his parents and his father taking him out on the boat they kept up there.    It was one of his fondest childhood memories.   Now he was living his dream of owning his own boat; he enjoyed taking people on tours of the Keys.  Kellan also took people deep sea fishing, his clientele ranged from the locals to big wigs who wanted to land the ‘big one’ to the vacationers who came from all over the world to experience the Keys.    Ernest Hemingway was to blame for the influx of visitors, the famous author put the place on the map, but Kellan wasn’t complaining.  He loved meeting new people and seeing the joy come over their faces when they caught some fish.    The really big ones were the marlin and sailfish; they could really give you a run for your money.  

So here he was sitting in the Keys enjoying all this new life had to offer.   While he enjoyed his time with other people during the day, his evenings were spent in his house, alone.    Maybe one day he would find someone, he just wasn’t in any hurry, and he was still grieving over Frank.

Kellan heard his empty stomach rumbling and made himself scrambled eggs for breakfast and filled two thermoses with coffee then drove over to the marina where his boat was docked.

This morning Kellan didn’t have any charters and he decided to take off on his own.  He filled up an ice chest with beer, bottled water and sandwiches, made sure his tank was filled up with gas, weighed anchor and was on his way.

The weather was gorgeous and Kellan still marveled at how blue the water was. He’d dreamed of seeing the ocean one day and now here he was, there was nothing like smelling the fresh ocean breeze and feeling the salty mist on your face.

After spending some time out in the open ocean he sailed into his favorite private spot, a deserted cove and picked up his lucky fishing pole and cast it into the water.  It wasn’t long before he was catching fish, they’d make a delicious dinner and whatever he didn’t use he’d freeze.    He worked up an appetite so he took a break to have lunch.  He was sitting in a chair on the deck finishing the last bite of his sandwich and drinking from a bottle of beer when he saw the fishing line he’d left in the water start to bob up and down.  He put the bottle down and went over to check it out.

“Damn!” Kellan grunted as he pulled on the line; it felt like it weighed a ton.  “What’ve I got on the end of this line a whale?”  He blurted out.

“Uhhhh,” He put his back into it as he pulled on the pole and reeled in his line.  Kellan figured he could have snagged a mackerel or maybe even an old tire.   You came across pollution from time to time, even down here in a pristine place like the Keys.

He could see a shape in the water and it definitely was not a fish.   The front part of the animal was hidden under the boat; he could see the tail flukes and thought it might be a manatee. 

“Oh man,” he was worried he’d get in trouble with the fish and wildlife conservation commission; manatees were a protected species.   He quickly tried to get the animal out from under the boat so he could get a better look at it and see if it was hurt.  As soon as the lower half of the animal cleared the underside of the boat it became clear what the catch of the day was.  “Oh my gawd!”  Kellan couldn’t believe his eyes.   It wasn’t a manatee; in fact it wasn’t like any manner of marine life he’d ever seen.    The tail looked like a manatee or whale but he saw the head and torso of a man attached to it.   ‘A merman!’    Kellan thought.    He didn’t have time to think about it.  He could see the man was hurt.  So he quickly pulled him onto the deck.  The fishing line had tangled on his tail so he took a knife and cut the lines.   

“Hey, uh, bud.  You okay?” Kellan wasn’t sure what to make of this creature.  Was he a man or a fish? Kellan’s instincts took over and he checked the merman for injuries.  As his hand disappeared into the dark hair, he found a bump on the back of the merman’s head.  His arms weren’t broken, he felt along the well-built body for broken ribs but found nothing then he looked down at his waist.  Instead of hips, thighs and two legs there was a long torso that ended in a tail.

Kellan was at a loss as to what to do next.  

Available now from Silver Publishing

http://silverpublishing.info/product_book_info/coming-soon-c-2/catch-of-the-day-p-183

Check out my other books on my blog:  http://lilysawyerbooks.blogspot.com/    

I hope you’ll let me know how you like it. 

Hugs, Lily