I’ve never been the most trusting person in the world. In fact, I’m one of those casually-paranoid people who figures everyone’s out to get her in one way or another. It takes me a long time to become friends with anybody. Most people find me stand-offish until they really get to know me. I do test the waters with new acquaintances. It takes time to trust.

So, now that you know something deeply personal about me, I’m going to switch gears–sort of–to talk about home decor. Yes, that’s right, home decor with the armoires and the cushions and the HOYVIN-GLAVIN! (Sorry, just having a Professor Frink moment, there)

The very first time my girlfriend Sweet came to my apartment, she said (and I quote), “You know, if you moved the couch under the window and the TV unit against that wall, you could put your bookshelf over there and create a little reading nook with that chair.”

And I said, “Uh-huh…yeah, thanks for the advice. Now shut up and kiss me!” (Okay, that one was not a direct quote. I don’t remember what I said.)

I didn’t think I’d end up taking Sweet’s decor advice. It didn’t sound like it was going to work. If I moved the couch under the window, it would block my heating vents. And put a bookcase in the middle of the room? The more I thought about it, the stupider her idea sounded. Want to know why?

Because I’m a person who sees only obstacles. That’s it. My whole world is comprised of one obstacle after the next. That’s not necessarily a bad thing…unless you couple my obstacle-seeing characteristic with my “screw that” tendency. It’s fine if you see an obstacle and plan a way to overcome it. I don’t do that. I see the obstacle and I say, “Screw that. It’ll be too hard. It won’t work. There’s no point.”

But now that I’ve realized these things about myself, I can work at improving. That’s what life’s all about, right? Learning and growing and improving. So I took Sweet’s advice. I moved all my furniture around, adjusting for foreseen obstacles, and you know what? She was right! My living room looks amazing now.

Thus, we come full circle to trust. It is damn hard to trust people–for me. I don’t know if it is for you. And trusting Sweet’s home decor vision was akin to trusting her. In fact, it was a segment of trust, a little trust that makes up part of trust as a whole. The reason I didn’t hop right to taking her advise about my living room was that I couldn’t blindly trust that she knew what she was talking about. Seeing was believing, for me.

Now I’m filled with a sense of weathered awe as I see her vision fulfilled in my home. It makes me happy. It’s like a piece of her mind is living in my…living room–hey, neat! I trust her decor sense. Next victim is the bedroom. She’s got a vision for that as well.

Hugs,
Giselle Renarde
Canada just got hotter!

So I happened to be at a gathering a couple weeks ago and someone I don’t know well (like at all) struck up a conversation with me.  He was talking to someone else and heard that I had published a book or two about “something to do with vampires.”  Uh, yeah.

This (cough) gentleman assumes, of course, that every vampire book is in the vein (heh, heh, pun intended) of Twilight.  Uh, no.

So we moved on (can we please move on, like to opposite sides of the room?)  Where was I?  Oh, yeah, so he then observes that for something like that I pretty much just type whatever I want, right?  I mean it’s not like it’s real or anything.   Uh, no.  That’s why they call it fiction.

So, he concludes, that must be pretty easy.

It’s moments like these for which the phrase, “if looks could kill” was invented.  (We writers know stuff like that.)

That’s right, I wanted to tell him.  The words just trip off my fingers onto the computer screen, fully formed and perfect in every way.  No research involved, no planning, no plotting, no character development.  And then no revising, no editing, no sending my darlings off to be rejected by vicious agents and editors!

No, you ass, it isn’t easy, I thought about saying, as I eyed his pristine white shirt and imagined what it would look like with my Cosmo all over it.  And, no, just because it’s vampires for grown-ups, the entire book is NOT just one big sex scene, like some sort of bad porn flick with cheesy music playing while the characters switch partners for the next round of body fluid swaps.

Some of the best writing I’ve ever read is in genre writing.  Some of the best writers I’ve ever read write fantasy and romance and science fiction.  And good sex scenes are damn difficult to write.  I’d like to see THAT guy try writing one.

Unfortunately, courtesy (not to him, but to our hostess) prevented me from telling him what a jerk he is.  So, I just smiled and moved on, dreaming of red, sticky stains all over his white shirt, and . . . you know, I just might have the character profile for the annoying-guy-who-dies-early-and-bloodily for my next book!

DBR

In the coming days of August, I have a new release due out from Passion in Print called The Darkness of Sable. My editor asked me to take a picture of myself holding the print version when I receive it and turn it in for the blog page and her scrapbook too.

Heaven have mercy, how I hate having my picture taken!

I guess this means I need to get more of my office arranged and cleaned up. Well, at least the desk area, lol.

Every time someone points a camera at me I dive for cover, which is odd since I used to do some modeling when I was fresh out of high school. But if I’m honest I hated posing even then.

I suppose every author who has his or her picture taken thinks, “Oh, my gosh, I’m going to look like a dork!” or “I hope like heck I don’t look like a beach whale.” Or even things like “Is there something between my teeth?”

Why is it that kids and teens will jump in front of a camera and act goofy or even pose in the most bizarre garb, but once we reach a certain age or moment in our life, we suddenly become camera shy? Heck, my hubby’s nephew went to the prom in a plaid orange and green tux and was proud as a peacock about the prom picture. When I saw the pic my first thought was, “His grandmother probably tried to kill him when she saw this.”

My oldest, JadeyKiss, always says, “Mom, you look fine, so stop worrying!” However, now she insists on having makeup on and her hair done if anyone wants to take a picture of her and the baby.

When does our outlook change about having our picture taken? Is it after that first child? Is it when we have our first high school reunion? Or does it become ingrained in us once the fashion industry has bombarded us enough with what they “think” is beautiful?

Whatever the answer, I’ll pose with my print book and smile. Well, I can’t promise I’ll smile, but I’ll keep my promise to my editor for a picture.

I wonder if she’ll accept a pic of my hand holding the book? LOL!

Being a romance author entails so much more than just writing a book. It’s an entire lifestyle. So before you put fingers to keyboard, here are some essential things you will need in order to be a proper romance author.

Have a Harem of Gorgeous Men

(This should be you)

This is absolutely the most important one. We all know that the only reason anyone buys romance is for the sex. In order to create the most believable, passionate and erotic chick porn out there, you need to do your research. Therefore, you need a harem.

Travel to Exotic Locations

(Here looks good)

Romance simply cannot flourish in a banal setting. The backdrop to your epic tale must be as intriguing and dazzling and jet-setting as your characters and their whirlwind love affair.

Have a Tragic Love Affair

(There cannot be happiness without sorrow)

You can’t know (and hence write about) the beauty and power of true love without having thought you were in love in the past only to either lose that love or realize it wasn’t love at all. This could be because you were blinded by lust and infatuation or maybe you picked the wrong man who wasn’t worthy of you or you might have even had a nice man that wasn’t very good in bed. Whatever the reason, a tragic – and preferably tormented – romantic past is a must.

Know How to Kick Some Ass

(He could TOTALLY teach me a thing or three)

It doesn’t matter if you are writing historical, paranormal, erotic or scifi, your hero needs to be a total ass-kicking stud even if he doesn’t actually kick any ass at all. Find yourself a weapons expert, a personal trainer and/or a hand-hand combat specialist and convince them to tell you all their secrets. And then add them to the harem.

And remember to always, always have fun!

Blog — Twitter — Facebook — Sculpting a Demon at Ellora’s Cave

Today I got back from two weeks away and GOD am I glad for the solitude!

This past week, I vacationed with family. Siblings…parents…that sort of thing. You know what I remembered as I spent twenty four hours a day, seven days a week with my family? I remembered why I do not live with, in, on, around, or in the vague vicinity of my family. Don’t get me wrong–I do love them! I do…but…but…well, there’s only so much family I can handle. This week, I went a little overboard and now I’m feeling the consequences.

It feels a lot like a hangover.

The week before last, I stayed at my girlfriend’s house. I love her too. I do…(can you see where this is going?)…and I can spend much more time with her than with my family before I peak in annoyance…but…but…well, Sweet’s house is very much her house. It isn’t my space. If I’m loading the dishwasher the wrong way, I’m going to hear about it. And, “Why are you chopping the onion like that? No, no. Give me the knife. I’ll show you how…”

*sigh*

I do know how to chop an onion. I’ve done it before, with relatively minor consequences.

Anyhoo…today I’m in my own home, where I can chop onions however I damn well please and load the dishwasher…well, actually, I don’t have a dishwasher, so I don’t need to worry about that part. But the point is that I’m back in my own space, and not a moment too soon.

I love the people in my life. I love my friends, my family, and most of all my pernickety girlfriend who must have onions chopped just so. Even though I love all these people, I don’t want to live with a single one of them. Call me a hermit, but I would go crazy without my solitude.

Virginia Woolf had her room. I have my bed. Yes, I do share it with cats, but cats are much less annoying than people. I’ll tell you a secret–I’ve never liked sharing a bed with anyone. I much prefer sleeping alone.

Waking up beside Sweet is pleasant. I do enjoy watching her dream. Her face is so perfectly beautiful when she’s at rest. All the same, I could do without the snoring, the excess body heat, and the ridiculously bad music they play on the radio station she insists on waking up to.

Lone wolf…hermit…crazy cat lady…call me what you will, but I believe in having a bed of one’s own.

Hugs,
Giselle Renarde
Canada just got hotter!
gisellerenarde.webs.com
twitter.com/gisellerenarde

Hello!  I’m KC Burn, and I’m a (new) Flirty Author Bitch.  For my first post, I thought I’d take the Pirates vs. Ninjas debate and put a little twist on it – Pirates vs. Ninjas as Romantic Tropes.  I know ninjas aren’t typically considered romantic tropes, but how else can I have my first Romantic Trope Cage Match?  So, we’re gonna pretend, okay?

Pirates vs. Ninjas isn’t exactly an ages-old debate (I don’t think) but as a geek who is friends with a number of other geeks, this topic has raised its head periodically over the years.  Even the “I’m on a horse” Old Spice guy has an opinion - CLEARLY this is a timely and relevant topic. 

Generally, my friends’ discussion involve which one is cooler or more dangerous, not which one you’d rather boink.  Or in the case of this post, which one you’d rather read about as they boink in your romantic fiction.

Now, I honestly don’t recall any instances of ninjas as romantic heroes, but that might be due to an utter lack of ninja romances.  Is there such a sub-genre?  If you know of any ninja romances, share some titles!  If not, you’re all witnesses – I invented it here and now.  It’ll be bigger than steampunk!

Ahem.

I think most people would probably pick pirates over ninjas as romantic heroes.  Dashing, lawless, manly, and as it’s my fantasy, maybe they all look a bit like Johnny Depp.  But then, my own personal reality check steps in.  The escapism fails as I start to think:  months on a boat… no showers… no toothbrushes… I bet ninjas have MUCH better personal hygiene.  After all, how can you sneak up on someone when you smell like an open sewer?  And ninjas are fit, right?  Totally buff?  I bet a lot of pirates have beer bellies and brewer’s droop.  That’s not even considering the scurvy!  So, the more I think about it, the more I’m leaning towards ninjas.

There’s another consideration, though.  I write m/m romance – my first book was released earlier this year – and I should probably forget which would make a better romantic hero, and start planning how I can get a pirate and ninja to hookup!  Have I mentioned I’m constitutionally incapable of making decisions?

What do you think — Cage Match or Hot Hookup?  Who do you want to win?  Which one’s your favorite romantic hero — Ninja, Pirate, or both together?  No cheating by suggesting other types, because I just might have a couple more cage matches planned!

Welcome….I’m Lyncee and this is my first time blogging at Flirty Bitch Authors. In the months to come I have some topics I’m excited to blog about but I thought start with my view on writing…and with the heart of what I write – romance. Be it a suspense or paranormal romance is at the center of my writing. So let me ask what is……romantic?

Flowers?

Candy?

Candlelight?

A bubble bath?

Some would say all of the above while others would have their own ideas. In writing romance, there are many definitions that a writer must deal with. So – what is….romantic?

Often, the same scene can have a double meaning. For example….
The shrill buzz of the doorbell shattered the silence. Darla glanced at her watch as she sat her book down. Twenty after nine. Who could it be? She stood and walked to the front room. The low rumble of distant thunder echoed in the night air as she opened the door. Michael stood in the pale yellow porch light.
“I thought you were still stuck in Colorado.” Darla’s pulse raced as she tripped over the words. “They said all flights were still ground.”
He held out his hand, offering a rectangular box with a green silk bow decorating the top. “It’s your birthday. I couldn’t miss it. So I rented a car and drove. Here, your favorite chocolates.”
“Oh, Michael,” she stepped outside and into his embrace.
OR – same scene and props but totally different outcome -
The shrill buzz of the doorbell shattered the silence. Darla glanced at her watch as she sat her book down. Twenty after nine. Who could it be? She stood and walked to the front room. The low rumble of distant thunder echoed in the night air as she opened the door. Michael stood in the pale yellow porch light.
Darla’s heart skipped a beat, panic surging through her. “What are you doing here?”
He held out his hand, offering a rectangular box with a green silk bow decorating the top. “It’s your birthday. I couldn’t miss it. Here, your favorite chocolates.”
“No, Michael,” she stepped inside and tried to shut the door, but his fingers stopped it.
While these examples are very basic, they show how the same thing – a box of candy – can mean two entirely different things. One scary the other a sweet gesture.

As a romance writer, I realize it’s more than a simple prop that makes romance. It’s the characters, their relationship and the setting and I have to use all three if I’m going to create a romance that will pull the reader in. I’ve read great romantic scenes set in places I’d never have thought of as a romantic place yet through skilled writing they were.
So tell me, what are some of the more ‘off-beat’ romantic settings you’ve read? Glad you stopped by.

Why? Because some day you might be able to use them. Now bear with me, people. We’ve all written a sentence, a paragraph, a page, etc., and then decided it wasn’t what we really wanted to write. It didn’t work. So we hit delete and moved on. Right? Wrong. Make sure you keep a file for all those words. You never know when you might be able to use them.

I was talking to an author a few weeks back and she happily announced to me that she’d cleared her files of all those books she’d started where she’d only gotten down a chapter or a couple of hundred words on, and then abandoned. I almost cried.

I keep everything. And everything I keep also sits in my brain and as I’m writing, suddenly I’ll remember something I’d written somewhere else and filed away and pull it up. Voila. It fits beautifully with the new work when it hadn’t with the old work.

Not only that, but just because an idea for a story you had last month, last year, a decade ago didn’t work out then, doesn’t mean you can’t look at it now and find something of value there. I’ve got shorts, novellas, and books a plenty sitting in my files. A major stockpile. LOL

A stockpile that’s paying off it seems. I received an offer of contract on one from Ellora’s Cave. And I was very happy about that. It started out as a freebie read, but the characters wanted something bigger and they got it! Such a sweet little Valentine’s Day tale, so it won’t be available until 2011.

In the meantime, I’ve dusted off a couple of more in my files, tweaked and fiddled with them a bit and off they went. One of those books came about as a result of an exercise on the Avoid Writer’s Hell Workshop group. I asked writers to work up a five-hundred-word excerpt in which they described a character’s job without actually naming the job. The purpose was, of course, to make sure the writing was clear and concise. We had a lot of fun guessing. That five-hundred-word excerpt of mine turned into a fifty-thousand-word novel. But more about those lost books on a later blog and what happens to them. *wink*

So don’t throw away your words. Keep them safe. You never know what publisher might just think they’re worthy of publishing. And those little snippets you save always come in handy when you’re blocked!

I hope everyone is happily writing!

NOTE: This post is not really late. It has an excuse. Faith’s daughter had a BABY yesterday! WOOT! ~ Lex

This heat is getting the best of everyone. All across the U.S., state after state is suffering and wilting under the sun’s intense rays and the formidable humidity. I feel so sorry for anyone who doesn’t have central air or A/C window units. Luckily, the new house we moved into is very air tight, so a small unit downstairs and one upstairs in my office keep our home comfortable.

Our new home has a small fishing pond that’s spring fed. Normally we’ve been going across the road to it and fishing at night. My youngest, who is five, has become quite a li’l fisherman, lol. Anyway, the heat has prevented us from fishing this week. Since Sunday, we’ve walked over once, and that was at nearly 9 p.m.

The youngest girl has discovered two toads that have sat on the carport and literally fried. Birds are dropping out of the sky and the trees due to the heat. We’re constantly checking on the dogs and the bunny. The two cats that are indoor kitties refuse to go out unless it’s early morning or late in the evening.

The upside to the heat and humidity is that it gives me a good excuse to sit in my office and write. I’ve turned in the last of an entire novel, have secured two new contracts, and have made great progress on a co-authored novella I’m working on. When it’s this damn hot, lol, what’s the point of going outside and suffering from sunstroke or dehydration when I can remain in by the A/C and get writing work done?

The other night I was cleaning up the kitchen after supper, and my hubby was sitting at his usual spot at the table watching TV and sipping some homemade wine. I chatter about what I’m working on, use him as a springboard for ideas, get his opinion on various names, etc., and tell him about what I’ve submitted and where. The conversation moved to the heat and humidity. My hubby is a welder, so he already works in a shop with high temperatures, but add this hot weather to it and the shop thermometer reaches 145 degrees and then some. I mentioned I was thankful for the A/C he put in my office or I’d never be able to set foot upstairs. I hung the hand towel and said, we’ll, I’m going back upstairs to the bat cave.

He burst out laughing and said, “A bat cave with air-conditioning!”

Sometimes I feel guilty when I know my hubby is slaving away, welding, sweating, and all the while the temperature goes up, up, up. But if my work keeps going the way it is, then maybe I can build him his own little bat cave. But for him it won’t be an office. It’ll be a room with animal trophies, a flat-screen TV, his guns, fishing poles, and a recliner just like Jeff Foxworthy’s. LMAO!

I’m excited and delighted to announce the release of my first fairy story, a hot piece with a killer cover: Secrets of the Solstice Sacrifice!

Secrets of the Solstice Sacrifice

By: Giselle Renarde

Published By: loveyoudivine

ISBN # 9781600544927

http://tiny.cc/cypm4

Professor Selyf is a fay magical, a solitary academic who lives near the mythical village of Gwyllion on a Welsh hillside. When a knock at the door interrupts him from his manuscript, he curses the intruders—until he gets a look at them! The ginger boy, Bedwyn, he doesn’t much care for, but Trysta, his beautiful cara, awakens Selyf’s heart and the sleeping serpent within.

Trysta has a “female problem,” as Bedwyn puts it, and needs the professor’s audience. She and Bedwyn are mixed-bloods–half human, half fay. When Trysta’s mother conceived her, she wished for a little girl. The fae have a unique ability to select their children’s genders with simple wishes, but since Trysta’s system contained “stagnant” human blood, the wish only half succeeded. Trysta was born a girl with one particular boy part.

Bedwyn doesn’t know the true nature of Trysta’s “female problem,” and she asks Selyf to help her resolve it so she can finally share her body with her caru. As a guest in Selyf’s home, Trysta grows as attracted to the professor’s magical intellect as he is to her beauty. The desire to give in to temptation mounts, particularly when Selyf realizes the only way to resolve Trysta’s problem involves a sexual sacrifice on the solstice.

Excerpt:

He knew she’d return. He sensed it in her look of longing as she left
for dinner with that stupid sod of a caru. “You’re here for my bed, I
presume?” Selyf said as she slipped in the door. Her eyes revealed
everything she longed to say, but he understood her restriction. “Will
you sit with me?” he asked, beckoning her into the chair by his desk.

Gazing into the empty seat, she shook her head. “I should not have
come,” she said with a look of apprehension in her conflicted eyes.
Slipping her bag from her shoulder, she sat in the chair. “You should
know you represent a distinct temptation for me.”

Selyf was not easily scandalized, but her bold admission took his breath
away. “As do you, for me,” he admitted. “But you needn’t fear me, Fay
Trysta. I have spent all my adult life as a solitary magical. I know
denial and self-sacrifice only too well. You are safe here in my home.”

With tears in her eyes, she nodded. For a moment, she looked as though
she might speak, but then said nothing. As she rose from her chair, she
finally blurted, “What if I don’t want to be safe anymore?”

He only stammered, with no response at hand.

“You speak of denial?” she went on. “What do you think my life has
consisted of up until now? At my age, I have yet to experience the
pleasures of the flesh. In the village, I must pretend to be exactly
what I seem, and why? Because only my mother, her mid-wife, and I can
know the truth. You have no idea the trust I’ve put in you, Professor
Selyf. You hold my very life in your hands.”

“I hold your life,” he repeated, rushing around his desk to meet her.
“Why may I not hold your body as well?”

Slipping past him, she hurried to the window, mumbling, “Bedwyn.” Just
as Selyf’s heart began to plummet, she continued, “He mustn’t see.”
Ensuring the curtains were fully closed, she walked to him like a vixen
on the hunt. Her eyes burned like roaring embers as they explored the
lengths of his body. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she ensnared him
in a kiss the likes of which he’d never imagined. He felt her veiled
passion course through his veins as his mouth melded with hers. Their
tongues fluttered and surged one against the other. His whole body was
so rapt with hers he could hardly breathe. As they kissed, he ran
intrepid fingers through her silken hair and down her back. In turn, she
held his cheeks and his neck, his back and his sides. When he grasped
the firm flesh of her buttocks, Trysta wheezed and broke free.

The look in her eyes was indiscernible but for the temptation they
aroused. He almost apologized for being so dreadfully forward before
realizing it was she who’d kissed him. Grabbing her wrists, he pulled
her into his arms and carried forth the sweet embrace she’d abandoned.
After a moment of brave indecision, she gave in to the kiss and melted
in Selyf’s arms. His tongue wrangled hers until she broke away once
more. Pressing her soft lips to his ear, she whispered, “I’ve never felt
like this before.”

“Neither have I,” he admitted. “You’ve aroused in me the sleeping
serpent.”

At that turn of phrase, her body grew limp in his arms. “Yes,” she said.
“I know only too well what you mean.”

Buy Now! http://tiny.cc/cypm4

Hugs,

Giselle Renarde
Canada just got hotter!

http://freewebs.com/gisellerenarde/

http://donutsdesires.blogspot.com

http://twitter.com/GiselleRenarde

http://audreyandlawrence.viviti.com/