Friday, June 28, 2013

The Friday Five - Birthday Facts

Happy Birthday . . . Fish?
Eh, I don't know.
Hmm. Well, it's that time of year again. The one where we talk about how many summers old I am, but I like to pretend I stopped counting at 19. I remember my 19th birthday. Living at college, got home from work (hopefully I took a quick shower because I worked in a place with no AC), changed clothes, went to Olive Garden, played mini-golf with friends. It was fun. I was away skinnier then. I miss my metabolism.

How about today we talk about five things that happened on June 28th? Sound good? Okay, here we go.

Smile, dude, you're KING!
Wikipedia Commons
1) Edward VI was crowned King of England on June 28, 1461. That's 521 years before I was born.

2) June 28, 1776, the Battle of Sullivan's Island was the first American victory in the American Revolution. That's 206 years ago.

3) Thomas Henry Harrison brought information to General Lee that prompted the Battle of Gettysburg during the American Civil War on June 28, 1863. That's 119 years ago.

4) Australian bushranger Ned Kelly was captured at Glenrowan, Victoria, on June 28, 1880. That's 102 years ago.
Diggin' that hair, bro.
Wikipedia commons

5) On June 28, 2007, the bald eagle was removed from the endangered species list. That's 25 years after my birthday. (Which is kind of sad because they're still "threatened". I'm good with them as long as they don't eat my dog.)

Now, unfortunately, I have 8 hours of work to look forward to, but I fully intend afterward, to enjoy a big ol' slice of lemon meringue pie. If sunshine had a flavor, that's what it would be. Pie. That is my huge birthday plan. For your own safety, do not try to get between me and the pie. It won't turn out pretty.

So get outside if the weather is agreeable (or even not) and make some history.

Wednesday, June 26, 2013

Book Feature - Sagebrush Bride by Tanya Ann Crosby

Sagebrush Bride
by Tanya Anne Crosby
Historical Western Romance
Publisher: Oliver Heber Books
Release Date: March 13, 2013
Heat Level: Steamy
Length: 372 pages

Available at:
Amazon | B&N | Kobo | iTunes

Fiercely independent, Elizabeth Bowcock – “Doc Liz” as she’s known by all -- vows to raise her orphaned niece as her own. Unfortunately, the child’s grandfather has declared the unwed doctor to be an unfit guardian and refuses to deliver her to Liz's care until she finds herself a man...

Enter dark-haired, devil-eyed Cutter McKenzie. Outcast for his Cheyenne blood, the handsome halfbreed volunteers to pose as Elizabeth’s husband. But though his wicked sex appeal threatens to undermine Liz's independence, the road to St. Louis promises even greater perils…

Warning: This title is intended for readers over the age of 18 as it contains adult sexual situations and/or adult language, and may be considered offensive to some readers.

“Mmmm, mmm,” Cutter murmured, embracing her as though she were his long-lost kissin’ cuz. “You’re looking better than ever, gal.”

Elizabeth’s heart jolted violently at the deep, unfamiliar voice. Warm lips kissed her cheek in a familiar way, taking just a fraction too long to leave her flushed skin, lingering at her lobe.

She swallowed convulsively.

He whispered in her ear. “Gotta loosen up, Doc, if you want this to look good... Come on now,” he coaxed, forcing her weight against him.

His husky voice set Elizabeth’s pulse to pounding, and her body into sudden paralysis. Powerless to fight him, she let him adjust her at will. Her legs felt wobbly, her body no more than mush in his hands.

“That’s it, bright eyes; now turn real slow,” he whispered, his lips scalding against her face, “act like you’re damned glad to see me.”

Elizabeth suppressed a helpless shudder as she worked up the courage to turn, fully intending to slap the britches off the fool who’d dared to be so intimate with her. But the man who faced her left her momentarily dazed, her throat too thick to speak.

Good night, but he was tall!

Her eyes refused to lower, but neither would they move up to his face. She forced them, and found dark hair flowing from beneath a dun-colored hat.

He cocked a brow at her, amusement flickering in his black eyes. He winked and she felt her knees go instantly weak... yet she couldn’t tear her gaze away even as they buckled.

He reached out to steady her, but Elizabeth continued to gape, helpless to do anything else. The longer she looked, the more she swore he didn’t have pupils, his eyes were so blessed dark... his face too tawny... his cheekbones too high. But it was those lips of his that unnerved her so: insolent, smug, kicked up only slightly at the corners, as though he couldn’t quite stifle his humor at her expense. His gaze roved, lazily assessing her, sliding down over her body slowly, seductively, then returning to her face to bore into her with silent expectation.

He anticipated some reaction from her, Elizabeth thought dimly, but couldn’t think what—couldn’t think, period. Staring as though transfixed, she tried to decipher his stony features but found her brain as useless as her limbs. But it occurred to her in that muddled moment that maybe he had appraised her with more than a mild interest, and her pulse quickened at that prospect. No one had ever looked at her in quite that way.

Not anyone.

Those dark eyes still piercing her, he raised two fingers to his brim, tipping his hat in greeting as the remnants of a smile turned the corners of his mouth. “Howdy, Liz,” he said huskily. “It’s been a mighty long time, gal.”

Long time?

Elizabeth shook her head, denying it, for if she’d ever set eyes on the man before now, she would have remembered. He wasn’t the type to be forgotten. Unconsciously she lifted a finger to her cheek, to the spot where he’d kissed her. Her throat constricted, seeming suddenly parched, and she licked her lips desperately as they parted to speak.

To her mortification, no words came.

For the first time in her life, Elizabeth Bowcock found herself dumbstruck. In spite of the man’s amused expression, he wore an air of menace about him like a second skin, and a tremor shook her as she averted her gaze to his boots. Dangerous, she thought.

The man was dangerous.

She hadn’t missed the fact that he had the most vicious-looking revolver she’d ever spied jammed into his gun belt, but she’d only just spotted the ink black knife hilt peeking over his faded leather boots. And those boots of his told a tale in themselves, for they were unmistakably U.S. Cavalry, and ominously inconsistent with his buckskin dress. There was little comfort in that he didn’t wear his weapons as Dick Brady did, like cheap jewelry. The fact that he kept his blade concealed and wore his gun casually, as though it were not there at all, told her all she needed to know. He was no gun-strutting cowpuncher. He was the real thing. As for the boots, she could think of a dozen reasons he should be outfitted so, not one of them reassuring.

A quick, wide-eyed glance to Jo told her that she was in no immediate danger, however. Jo’s lips lifted at the corners, and she, too, was on the verge of a smile, her kindly cinnamon eyes warm with humor.

Not really understanding why she felt compelled to, Elizabeth decided to play along. “Uh... um...”

Mercy’s sake, she didn’t even know his name! How was she going to pretend to know him if she didn’t know his blessed name? In panic, her gaze skidded to Jo.

“Cutter,” Jo supplied with a laugh, seeming to read Elizabeth’s thoughts. Her eyes gleamed with mischief. “I believe you have her tongue-tied, brother dear. Reckon she thought she’d never see you again.” Seeing Elizabeth’s confused expression, she laughed softly. “Isn’t that right, Liz?”

“Right?” Elizabeth nodded woodenly. Jo’s brother? “Oh—yes! I did think I’d never see you again!” She nodded dutifully for the benefit of their audience.

All eyes reverted suspiciously to Cutter, leaving her somewhat doubtful of her performance. Her brow furrowed.

Warmth invaded his eyes as he gently chucked her under the chin, much as a brother would a cherished younger sister.

Elizabeth felt suddenly too warm, almost as though she were being roasted over a slow fire. And the heat of his fingers... lingered upon her chin long after he’d withdrawn his hand. Mortified that he could affect her so, she averted her gaze to Brady. He was watching her with unflinching eyes.

His eyes narrowing to shadowy slits, Cutter turned to Brady and his men, sending them each an unspoken challenge. Brady fidgeted, flinging Elizabeth a doubtful look before turning away. The rest of his outfit followed immediately, slapping one another consolingly on the shoulder.

Elizabeth’s brows rose as she watched the exchange, astounded at the ease with which Cutter had handled Brady and his men. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words stuck in her throat like a spoonful of dry sugar. The man was just too smug for his own good. He’d had no right to be so familiar with her, but she did owe him her gratitude, no matter how reluctant it came. “I suppose I should thank you,” she said.

Cutter grinned. “Anytime, Doc.”

About the Author:
Tanya has written seventeen novels, all of which have graced numerous bestseller lists including the New York Times and USA Today. Best known for stories charged with emotion and humor, and filled with flawed characters, her novels have garnered reader praise and glowing critical reviews. She lives with her husband, two dogs and two cats in northern Michigan.

Connect with Tanya Anne Crosby
Email | Website | Facebook | Twitter | Pinterest

Be sure to follow along and check out other features for this book by clicking here.

Tuesday, June 25, 2013

It's My Birthaversary, So...

Birtha-what now? In case you're not up to date on Allison-speak, birthaversary is the last week in June (usually) in which both my birthday (I'm 19... 12 years running this year) and my wedding anniversary (8 hundred years) occur (that's actually today. Yay, another year we haven't killed each other). So it's birthaversary week.

I have news. Big, shiny news. I love giving news. I wanted to blurt it out the minute I found out, because I'm a really sh!tty secret keeper, but I held it in. It's so big and shiny and it makes me smile like an idiot every time I think about it. I'm nerdy like that.

Right at the end of March/beginning of April, I started working on a new historical romance novel. I didn't really tell you about it, because I was pretty sure I was going to flop it and it would get stuffed into the dark recesses of my flash drive with the one we don't talk about. Okay, we do talk about it. It was my first NaNo project and it bombed. I use bits and pieces of it in other novels, so in a way it's seen the light of day and it other ways, it never will.

I had difficulty coming up with a title for this new historical romance, but I settled on The Wrong Brother's Bride. I told you about several posts ago. You can read them if you're bored. I won't drag you through them again here. I was trying to finish up Camp NaNo in April after that disaster with what was supposed to be the 5th book in the L&L series that we're never talking about again--until we do--when I decided to write The Heckmasters instead. At the same time, I was writing this HR. When I hit my word count goal on the Heckmasters, I kind of set it aside--I'm still working on that thing, even though I wrote the ending already. I focused harder on my HR because I sent the first couple of pages to an editor who requested the full. I told you about that a few posts ago too. I finished it in mid-May, which you also know, and began pre-edits the way Lyrical wants them. Then I sent it to my editor there. She assured me that while she was working on the first round of content edits for The Convict and the Cattleman that she was reading TWBB. I was all, okay, I can wait. No biggy.

I finished my content edits and mailed them to her a little earlier than she asked, go me. Rah-rah and stuff. Then she e-mailed me back. And she said she'd finished TWBB and she liked it, so she was going to recommend the contract to Lyrical's owner.

Yeah. That's right. Another contract. On a book I finished in a month and a half because a different editor asked for the full. I wrote TWBB with the intention of subbing it to Lyrical above all others, but I couldn't resist sending it to another house's critique just to see what the eds there thought. I love TWBB because it's set very close to my home and in one of my favorite places in the world, the township that encompassed Wilson's Creek National Battlefield. I'm just drawn there, to the history of the place.

I was really nervous about this one, because I usually don't write this fast and I'd never, ever dream of writing one and then doing those kinds of edits and sending it two weeks after finishing it. It was crazy and that's saying something because everyone knows I'm two bricks shy of french fry picnic. So I'm thrilled to say I very happily signed the contract for The Wrong Brother's Bride last Thrusday and it was finalized Saturday.

Oh my, I have no ideas for cover design on this one. I really didn't put much thought into it because I was so nervous about sending it. Ah! Now I have to figure out something because it's nice to get your paperwork done ASAP.

I got a new contract! Happy birthaversary to me! I've felt like spinning in circles like Julie Andrews on that mountaintop. I've laughed and cried happy tears and giggled like an idiot for almost two weeks. I've been in an unusually good mood, which might be scaring my husband a little bit because he's used to me being cranky. Seriously, I've cut back on my caffeine consumption and I haven't been sleeping so great, but I'm so happy. You'd think I won the lottery.

Contract. The Wrong Brother's Bride. No official word, but it will most likely come out sometime next year. I'll let you know for sure, of course.

Monday, June 24, 2013

Book Feature - What A Texas Girl Dreams

What a Texas Girl Dreams on Amazon | Barnes & Noble | iTunes

Publication Date: June 3, 2013

About What a Texas Girl Dreams
Monica Witte has life the way she likes it – she comes home to be babied every few months and the rest of the time she has no strings holding her back. But after her horse is injured in a rodeo performance, Monica knows it's time to come home and face her family – warts and all.

Trickett works best on his own. A world-renowned large-animal vet, he likes his quiet life in the Texas countryside. When Monica Witte blows into town, demanding a quick fix to her horse's big issues, his life is turned upside down. Trickett doesn't understand Monica's need to perform before perfect strangers or why she wants to keep the truth from her family. And the more he gets to know her, the more he wonders if he really is better off on his own.

Trick followed and was barely inside the trailer when Monica launched herself into his arms.

“Did you miss me?” She whispered the words against his mouth, nibbled his lower lip. Trick knew it was a rhetorical question. He knew Monica would go running into the Texas afternoon if he answered with one hundred percent honesty. So for the first time today he kept his big mouth shut—figuratively speaking—and fell into the moment.

Her mouth was hot on his, demanding. Mad at her or not for risking her life in that bull pen, he couldn’t resist her. Trick dug his hands into her hair, breaking the elastic at her nape in the process. Monica wrapped one leg around his, pushing herself against him, as if their bodies might become one hot, writhing unit. Trick pushed his tongue between her lips, wanting to taste more of her.

Their teeth clicked together and Monica chuckled. “God, I’ve missed you.”

Trick pushed her against the side of the trailer. “Really? Because you didn’t even want a handshake ten seconds ago,” he said between kisses. He smelled coconut in her hair, bananas on her skin, and despite the overpowering aroma of cooped-up horse, the trailer was suddenly a tropical paradise.

“You know the rules.” She panted and kissed her way along his jawline. He lifted her up by the hips until her legs were wrapped around his waist.

Yeah, he knew the rules. No deep feelings, no firm commitments, no family involvement. They drove into Austin or San Antonio for dates, she stayed over at his place, and he was never invited to the Diamond for more than vet checks. On the occasional long weekend or during a break from the rodeo, he’d go to her place in Austin. Easy.

Up until two weeks ago, it had been enough. Then he asked her to take a long weekend and she balked. Pride made him throw down the ultimatum that she stay. After seeing her in the ring with the bull, easy wasn’t nearly enough. He wanted more. He wanted to take her to dinner in town. Wanted to wake up with her wild hair spread over his pillows every morning. Wanted to come home to her every night.

“This isn’t exactly the safest place in the world for hot, sweaty sex.”

About the author
Once upon a time, Kristina Knight spent her days running from car crash to fire to meetings with local police - no, she wasn't a trouble-maker she was a journalist. When the opportunity to focus a bit of energy on the stories in her head, she jumped at it. And she's never looked back. Now she writes magazine articles by day and romance novels with spice by night. And any toddler-free, five minute break she has. She lives on Lake Erie with her husband and 4 year old daughter. Happily ever after.

Visit Kristina's other blitz stops here!

Friday, June 21, 2013

The Friday Five - Little Known Facts

As I struggle to come up with something brilliant to say--this sh!t doesn't come easy all the time, y'all--and I'm reading other people's blogs desperately trying to give you something so you don't abandon me like a mama cat with devil kittens, it occurs to me that I know things about my series that you don't know. So I'm going to tell you some of these little secrets. Enjoy them. Savor them. Now when people ask, you can spout off useless knowledge about the Legends & Lovers series. You know you want to.

1) The opening scene of The Turncoat's Temptress is a scene I wrote in 2011 after half a dozen agent rejections and the one that almost gave me a nervous breakdown. That would be Big Nervous Breakdown #2, if you're counting. Nora Frost was supposed to be the new Romy Farrington. Romy is British and Nora was going to be the Americanized version. Until I just decided to re-set The Treasure Hunter's Lady in America. Then it felt like Nora would be a good fit for Basil.

2) Basil Tinwhistle was only supposed to be a minor character. In the first draft of a book that shall remain nameless because it had a really stoopid name and it only made it to maybe 7000 words, he was British, way more condescending, and he had both legs. He only lost a leg when I decided to give him his own book. Which was before The Sky Pirate's Wife was finished, of course.

3) In the original draft of The Treasure Hunter's Lady, set in Australia (you already knew that), the Great Snake story was 100% different than the one in the published version. At the end, the Serpent was benevolent instead of a psycho, although she didn't tolerate any foolishness and forced Abel to admit he loved Romy before giving them the cure for the venom.

4) In the original draft of The Sky Pirate's Wife, Sophie ran to Van Buren and he tricked her into marriage. She thought his ship was empty and it would be a good place to hide. She was a lot more tomboyish in that draft than she ended up being in the published version. Also, at the end, instead of Sophie taking an electromagnetic blast for Van Buren, he gets shot with a real gun and then badassedly stabs the bad guy in the throat with a knife. The bad guy never publicly answers for his crimes against Van Buren.

5) When I wrote the first draft of The Turncoat's Temptress, I wrote Abel, Romy, Van Buren, and Sophie into it because, hey, it was Camp Nano and I had no idea where the plot was going. I seriously considered cutting them because this is the first book in the series that you have to read the first two in order to understand who these crazy supernatural-killing people are. The Treasure Hunter's Lady and The Sky Pirate's Wife read just fine as stand-alones, even though Abel and Romy are mentioned in SPW.

Okay, that's what I've got for you today. Tell your friends. Then go, be, do.

Wednesday, June 19, 2013

An Excerpt from The Heckmasters

I feel a little off today, kids. So instead of blathering at you for a while, how 'bout a snippet from The Heckmasters - Wystan. You might've read part of this on my author FB page, but here's a longer cut. It's unedited, so pardon the me-stakes. (Ha. A pun.)

Let's blurb first, then have an excerpt, shall we?

An ad in the newspaper for a school teacher in a small New Mexico Territory town is the answer to Rhia Duke's prayers. She packs her sister and friend into a rickety wagon and leaves Nebraska behind, intent on escaping a threat from her past. But her hopes are shattered when they arrive in Berner and she learns there is no job. 

Sheriff Wystan Heckmaster is the oldest son of a demon who spurned evil for the love of a human woman. His duty is to slay any demons that rise from Hell to serve their master—his father's former liege and his greatest enemy. With a gut full of regret, a forgotten town filled with reformed demons and now a beautiful schoolteacher to look after, Wystan must decide whether revenge is worth dying for, or if he can find peace the way his father did—with enough love to overcome the blackest evil.

 “Sheriff?” Rhia's voice cracked. “We should go.”

It stepped out of the vapor, six feet tall at its sloping shoulders. A wide mouth gaped with uneven teeth. Big eyes bulged from its face and pointed ears pricked forward. Its long legs carried it over the rocky ground without breaking stride. Cloven hooves clacked on the stone.

“Wystan. Astaroth sends warm regards.” A deep, gravelly voice issued from the creature's throat.

The horse's hooves clattered on the rocks and one of them cried out in distress. Killing the changesteed would take more effort than a bargest. It was safer for Rhia if she wasn't around.

“Rhia, go.”


He waved his arm at her. The changesteed crouched and sprang. Lifting the knife, Wystan braced for the impact of the beast. It crashed into him hard enough to take him off his feet. Sharp jags of rock bit into his back. A cloud of fetid breath clogged his nose. With all his strength, Wystan drove the knife into the changesteed's chest. The blade sliced through sinew and cartilage, but the tip stopped shy of reaching an organ similar to a heart. Demons didn't have hearts, didn't require blood to circulate through their veins. Brown sludge oozed over Wystan's hands and the creature's jaws snapped. Foamy flecks of saliva dropped onto Wystan's face.

He wrenched the knife free of the creature's chest and it sank its teeth into his shoulder. In response, he pushed the knife into the softer tissue below its ribcage. The changesteed yelped and turned him loose long enough for him to spill its entrails. Ichor spewed from its mouth, but it didn't stop snapping.

A shot rang out and the changesteed collapsed on top of him. Wystan craned his neck around and saw Rhia sitting calmly atop the horse, smoking rifle in her hands. The changesteed's black mouth and yellowed teeth were inches from his face. He pushed the corpse off him and removed his knife from its guts.

Rhia removed the spent shell from the chamber and looked down at him. “You still think I won't fit in here?”

Monday, June 17, 2013

The Little Engine That Abso-freakin-lutely Could

I'm not an overachiever. That's mostly because I bumble around blindly trying to figure out exactly what it is I'm doing. That applies pretty much everywhere in my life. I'm a bumbler. I don't really like to make plans, I just like to do things.

I didn't wake up January 1st with the notion that by June 16th, I'd have two books written. One of them I never, ever came close to planning to write. Remember, I thought I was done with historical romance. Erm, maybe not.

Sunday morning, around 2-ish, I wrote the HFN ending on the first Heckmasters book. I was a hair short of 60k, but not by much. I know where the story needs filling in. I'm on it.

It's weird, finishing two books in two months. And I feel a little guilty because I should've had Wystan's book done last month, you know, if I hadn't been pounding away at The Wrong Brother's Bride, which pretty much blindsided me, because afterward, I didn't want to work on anything. I figured I deserved the break. It made it that much harder to get back into it. I'm not sure if the different genres had something to do with it or not. Am I glad to have it done? Yes. Will I be chomping at the bit to add to the opening I've already written for Eban's book in a few weeks? Yes. I'm 20,000 words from hitting 200,000 words this year already. I have an idea for another historical, but I'm putting it off in hopes of a research trip some time soon. I don't feel like 180k is an over-achievement, just that it was necessary to keep my sanity. Remember how bad I felt last year at this time? I feel like a different person now.

I know for sure that writing two books at once and putting myself on a deadline to finish one of them was bad for my body. My legs cramped, my back hurt. It wanted to move and my brain was all, No, no, no. Finish this! I started walking again this weekend--nowhere exciting, in case you wanted pictures--two miles in the last two days. I know, big mileage there, geez, don't overdo it. I'm positive I'll be ready for two miles a day by next week. Poor, abused body. I already feel better even though it's been so muggy, I come home dripping wet. But it's totally worth it. I'd have done a mile and a half yesterday if not for the dog. Yes, lazy PeeWee said, 'no thank you, Mom, let's go to the car.' Only, in dog-talk, not people talk because I'm not that crazy yet. Little bugger knows where we parked and each time we came around to the parking lot he started casting hopeful glances toward it.

Also yesterday, in lieu of doing anything strenuous, I did some beta reading and sat out on the deck most of the day. My legs are the same color as my t-shirt, a very lovely shade of bright pink. Only the lower halves, because the computer was obviously on my lap. Somehow my forehead and nose caught some light too. Ah, well. It makes up for all the hours under florescent light and no light at all. I did a lot of sitting and pretending I was on the beach, which was kind of difficult as someone was mowing and I kept muttering, "This is the beach, you don't mow sand!" I feel ocean deprived. :(

All right, all right. Monday updates over. I have work to do and scenes to add to the Heckmasters. And also, some more pretending that I'm not stuck in the ocean-less Midwest.

Friday, June 14, 2013

SIFWIW - The Friday Edition

I'm the worst blogger ever. Giving you all hope that things will stay consistent and then just ripping that carpet out from under you like some kind of carpet ripper upper. I'd say I'm sorry, but . . . we all know I'm not. Here are photographicals of the walk my husband and I took last weekend at the Springfield Nature Center in Springfield, Mo.

A bear statue. I can do without real bears.
Have you seen my nuts?
Whatchoo wanna be all chasin' me up trees for?
Struttin' for the ladies.
My milkshake brings all the hens to the yard.

Yes, that's a snake. Yes, I did the eww-it's-a-snake dance after
I took this shot. Snakes. In nature. The nerve!

Bonus shot: Real live young gators at Bass Pro Shops.
They're maybe four-five feet long. You don't want to fall
in that exhibit at any rate.
That's what I've got today, kids. Have a great weekend. Go, be, do.

Wednesday, June 12, 2013

And Then I Totally Forgot to Post

Gack! Someone was supposed to remind me to remember to post today. Because we had our book feature/giveaway Monday, y'all. Which one of you forgot to remind me?

No matter. So, how's it? I got an e-mail with content edits for The Convict and the Cattleman the other day. And now for a dirty little secret: I was a Track Changes virgin. Yup. Never used it before. What a fascinating experience. I'm not being sarcastic. Stop looking at me that way. I was all, what? It's really this easy? This is hardly painful at all. It worked out well. Never mind that I had a husband and a dog laying across the bed. Waiting. Waiting for me to finish. It was sort of like watching someone (or two someones) from the corner of my eye like they expected me to diffuse a time bomb.

Will she flip out? Will she argue with the screen for ten minutes before giving in to the requested change? Will she cry? Will she threaten to throw the computer across the room? Will she ever stop editing and change her clothes so we can go get something to eat? She can't seriously mean to wear that ridiculous ponytail (which is really more of a nub) in public, can she?

It would be difficult to say which of them hates computers more. Yeah, that ponytail thing is what I was thinking, obviously.

I will eff up your manuscipt, mother.
I actually did get through the accept changes bit in a few hours. I did the hard stuff yesterday, like some POV rewrites. Now I'm reading through to make sure I didn't screw things up worse. It's beginning to look more like a book and less like the crazy drivel that usually comes out of my fingertips, drooled from my brain in a crazy rush. Sweet. There were only a couple of moments where I gaped in disbelief at something I'd screwed up. Like d'oh, I knew that! Brain, how could you be so dumb? Gremlins, man. It's the gremlins, it
must be. Or clowns. Yeah, I bet it's clowns.

Also, I've indulged in way too much Star Trek fanfic this month. I'm a nerd. There. I said it. Dirty little secret number 2 out of the way.

I have photos for you guys. Check with me Friday. Maybe I'll have my shit straightened out by then and remember to really post.

Monday, June 10, 2013

Book Feature - The Last Execution

The Last Execution
by Jerrie Alexander
Romantic Suspense
Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
Heat Level: Steamy
Word Count: 97,000
Available at: Amazon | The Wild Rose Press
To survive, she must put the past behind her. To love, she must learn to trust. Homicide detective Leigh McBride's first assignment with the FBI brings her face-to-face with a past she's tried hard to forget. And when her temporary partner, a cynical ex-marine, lights a fire in her she thought long-extinguished, her darkest secret is threatened.

Scarred both physically and emotionally, Special Agent J. T. Noble is a man of few words. He prefers to keep people at a distance—until he meets Leigh. He's attracted to her strength and drawn in by her secrecy. But in their line of work, secrets can be deadly.

When the killer they are hunting aims his vigilante justice at Leigh's past assailant, the fine line between right and wrong blurs. To heal the past—and find their future together—Leigh and J. T. must learn that only through trust and forgiveness can love grow.

Warning: This title is intended for readers over the age of 18 as it contains adult sexual situations and/or adult language, and may be considered offensive to some readers.

The six-year-old missile launched himself into the air, giving J.T. two choices. Catch the kid, or let him fall to the ground like a deflated football. J.T. grabbed him and held Ethan out in front, as he would a wet, smelly dog.

Leigh jogged down the sidewalk, sparks flashing from her eyes. She pulled her son out of J.T.’s grasp and plopped the kid down at her feet. She knelt and got right in his face. J.T. made a mental note to not piss her off.

“What have I told you about running out the door?”

Ethan’s head bowed. “Don’t even think about it.” He stared at the tops of his bare feet.

“Obviously, you didn’t listen.” She tugged the knot at the back of her head tighter before she looked up. “Sorry about the attack.”

“Kid’s a natural born high jumper.” J.T. stuffed his hands in his pockets. She’d wadded her hair in the old-lady-school-teacher-bun-thing she wore at work. Probably just as well. If she’d left all that blond silk loose and sexy, he might’ve thought this was a date or something, which it wasn’t. Him being here was entirely the fault of his own big mouth.

“Please.” She waved a hand toward the wide-open front door. “We were about to come and get you.”

“You knew I was here?”

“A black Corvette rumbling around in our neighborhood doesn’t go unnoticed.”

Dressed in blue jean shorts and a thin-strapped top exactly the same blue as her eyes, Leigh looked more like a model than a mom. J.T. was glad he’d worn a T-shirt and Wranglers. His chest double-clutched and pulled a weird stutter step when a small hand gripped two of his fingers and two small feet shuffled hurriedly to keep up with him. Tonight was a mistake.

About the author:
A student of creative writing in her youth, Jerrie set aside her passion when life presented her with a John Wayne husband, and two wonderful children. A career in logistics offered her the opportunity to travel to many beautiful locations in America, and she revisits them in her romantic suspense novels.

But the characters went with her, talked to her, and insisted she share their dark, sexy stories with others. She writes alpha males and kick-ass women who weave their way through death and fear to emerge stronger because of, and on occasion in spite of, their love for each other. She likes to torture people, make them suffer, and if they’re strong enough, they live happily ever after.

The author of THE GREEN-EYED DOLL, THE LAST EXECUTION, and her latest release, HELL or HIGH WATER, Book 1 in the Lost and Found, Inc. Series, Jerrie lives in Texas, loves sunshine, children’s laughter, sugar (human and granulated), and researching for her heroes and heroines.

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Be sure to visit Jerrie's other blog stop on her tour!

Wednesday, June 5, 2013

Book Feature & Giveaway - Climb the Highest Mountain

Available exclusively at Amazon!

About the Book:
Throughout years of struggle and determination and a love of freedom and the magnificent West, Zeke and Abigail Monroe have built an empire, bred a large family and made a name for themselves from Denver to Washington D.C.  Their children are older, and each is unique in his and her looks and life choices.  Some will be totally Indian at heart, some will turn away and deny their Indian blood.

“Zeke …”  Abbie spoke in a near whisper.  “Without you there would be no life for me.  With you I can bear anything that happens, but without you I am nothing.”

He leaned down and kissed her neck.  “It’s the same for me,” he said softly.  “I need you, Abbie.” …

Their bodies seemed to melt together naturally, in tune to one another’s needs.

“Abbie, my Abbie,” he whispered, his lips moving against her flesh, drawing out her passion.  She touched his hair, breathing deeply, allowing herself to enjoy the moment fully, never knowing what tomorrow might bring.  She wanted him as much today as always, and she would love him forever …

Through it all Zeke and Abbie have faced trial and tribulation, Indian wars and the Civil War, and experiences that would try the heart of the truest love.  But still they are together, and age has no affect on their passion and strength.  This book depicts the life of true American pioneers, with characters that will live in the hearts of readers for years to come.

About Rosanne Bittner
I've been writing for nearly thirty years and to date have had 57 novels published, all about the American West of the 1800's and Native Americans. I write romance, but not the typical bodice-ripping adventures. My stories are deep love stories, often family sagas told as a series. It is the hero and heroine's love that holds them together through the trials and tribulations of settling America's western frontiers. I absolutely love the Rockies, the Tetons, the Sierras, and the wide-open plains, prairies and desert land west of the Mississippi. In my books, I strive to tell the truth about the settling of the West and how it affected our American Indians, as well as the gritty depth of what our brave pioneers suffered in their search for free land and a better life.

I am a member of the Nebraska and Oklahoma Historical Societies, my local southwest Michigan historical society, Women Writing the West, Mid-Michigan Romance Writers of America (treasurer) and the national RWA, and a local charity group called the Coloma Lioness Club. I help run a family business and love doing things with my three young grandsons. If you visit my web site at, where all my titles are listed as well as a page that lists all my many writing awards; or you can visit me on Facebook. At either site you will learn news of new books to come as well as reprints of many of my past titles soon to be published in trade paperback and as e-books! I also have an author site at

Click here to enter the giveaway and visit Rosanne's other feature spots!

Monday, June 3, 2013

Must (Not) Love Bacon

This is happening.

On Friday, I posted a link to an article on my personal FB page from the New York Daily News about *drum roll please* bacon condoms. You can read it here. In fact, you should read it. I'll wait.

Are you back? Good. Now, I like bacon just fine from a distance. I'm not much on the flavor, especially if it's hovering around precious, precious chocolate. That's just wrong. But! When I read this article, I immediately knew that this was a deal breaker, to quote Liz Lemon. I mean, bacon-flavored lubrication... I have no words.

I want you to have words though. Here's the skinny:

* Write a break-up scene where one member of the amorous couple brings home bacon condoms or tries to incorporate them in their bedroom.
* I'm interested in funny and original. Emphasis on funny. I will also allow, if you can pull it off in the word count, a happy couple reunion sans bacon. Maybe a different flavor?
* Let's cap the word count at 1500.
* Keep the tone between G and PG-13. I don't need body part descriptions. Well, boobs and butts are okay. Just no detailed descriptions. I know, I'm a kill joy.
* Open to the U.S. and Canada only.

What do you get out of the deal? How about a bacon bobble dancer? Worth a whopping $8.00. That's worth a bacon break-up story, right? Of course!

How to enter:
Send your entry of 1500 words or less to by Friday, June 28th at midnight. Put Bacon Break-up in the subject line to ensure I catch your entry.

Get cracking and good luck!