Laura Florand's Blog, page 26

La Vie en Roses: Promised Sneak Peek

Those of you who have been following this DABWAHA contest know already that readers were kind of split in their requests for either an additional sneak peek of SUN-KISSED or of Matt’s still-untitled book, the first of the Vie en Roses books (properly speaking; Turning Up the Heat and The Chocolate Rose are both prequels to this series, and Raoul Rosier’s story is in the anthology No Place Like Home).

Scroll back to previous posts for the sneak peeks of SUN-KISSED, first peek, second peek.

And below you’ll find a little glimpse of Matt Rosier. Thanks so much again to everyone for all your support of THE CHOCOLATE TOUCH and SNOW-KISSED in this DABWAHA contest. SNOW-KISSED comes up for vote again FRIDAY MORNING (midnight to noon CST). But it’s going up against THE GEEK WITH THE CAT TATTOO, only one of my favorite novellas from last year!! So I don’t even know how to tell you to vote against it. But either way you want to vote, the link is here. (Friday morning. There are some other books up for vote right now, though, including Julie James, Sarah Morgan, Deanna Raybourn, and Susanna Kearsley…go have fun!)

EXCERPT: MATTHIEU ROSIER

Burlap slid against Matt’s shoulder, rough and clinging to the dampness of his skin as he dumped the sack onto the truck bed. The rose scent puffed up thickly, like a silk sheet thrown over his head and knotted with rough rope to hold him captive.

He didn’t fight it, too used to it, although maybe he had fought it in the past. Maybe that was all that Nathalie was. And the scars from her were like the ones his wrists would get, twisting against a rope as rough as burlap.

But his hands were utterly free here. Strong and fast and capable, the roses everywhere a silk he could touch, take, hold, nothing that had ever really been possible with Nathalie and which, therefore, had left him very confused about his hands. Hands that could do anything, hold everything, fix everything—and yet they couldn’t touch a woman or fix her or make her his?

He shrugged that away, roughly, the hangover pounding in his head and stirring thickly in his stomach. The lessons he learned from that Paris-model-princess-girlfriend episode were all false ones, but he kept wanting to repeat them anyway, in his head, as if he had imprinted the wrong spelling of a word in his brain or something and couldn’t shake it out to make the right one seem natural again. Was it Matthieu or Mathieu? Who was he, exactly?

It pissed him off, him, who had always known who he was, and he took a deep breath of roses, letting the sounds of the workers and of his cousins and grandfather ride against his skin, be drawn into his lungs. No, this was a good day. It could be. He had a hangover, and he had made an utter fool of himself the night before, but this could still be a good day. The rose harvest.

He stretched and even though it wasn’t that hot yet, went ahead and reached for the hem of his shirt, so he could feel that scent of roses all over his skin.

“Show-off,” Allegra’s voice said, teasingly, and he grinned into the shirt as it passed his head, flexing his muscles a little more, because, well—he liked Allegra. She was cute and happy. And it would be pretty damn fun if she was ogling him enough to piss Raoul off.

He turned so he could see the expression on Raoul’s face as he bundled the T-shirt, half-tempted to toss it to Allegra and see what Raoul did—

And looked straight into the green-brown eyes of Curls.

Oh, shit. He jerked the T-shirt back over his head, tangling in the bundle of it as the holes proved impossible to find, and then he stuck his arm through the neck hole and his head didn’t fit and he wrenched it around and tried to get himself straight and dressed somehow and—oh, fuck.

He stared at her, caught in the T-shirt like a bird in a plastic soda ring, all the blood cells in his body rushing to his cheeks.

Damn you, stop, stop, stop, he tried to tell the blood cells, but as usual they ignored him. Thank God for matte skin. It had to help hide some of the color, right? Right? Heat beat in his cheeks until he felt sunburned from the inside out.

Curls was staring at him with her mouth opened as if he had punched her. Probably thinking what a total jerk he was, first slobbering all over her drunk and now so full of himself he was stripping for her. And getting stuck in his own damn T-shirt.

Somewhere beyond her, between the rows of pink, Raoul had a hand blocking his mouth and was trying so hard not to laugh out loud that his body was bending into it, going into convulsions. Tristan was grinning, all right with his world. And Damien had his eyebrows up in that elegant irony of his, making him look all controlled and princely, like someone who would never make a fool of himself in front of a woman.

Damn T-shirt. Matt yanked it off his head and threw it. But, of course, it didn’t go halfway across the field but let the air friction stop it and fell across the rose bush not too far from Curls, a humiliated flag of surrender.

Could his introduction to this woman conceivably get any worse?

He stared at her, miserable and hostile.

She stared back, her eyes enormous.

“Well, what?” he growled. “What do you want now? Why are you still here?” I was drunk. I’m sorry. Just shoot me now, all right?

She blinked, as if he’d just slapped her, and he wanted to crawl into a hole.

He folded his arms over his chest, trying to hide his chest hair. Because he was pretty sure that made him look like a man, you know, one of that species of big brutes capable of hauling a woman off to a cave. His last girlfriend had at first thought his chest hair was quaintly barbaric, and then a little icky and couldn’t he shave it off like most men did? Her genuine belief that most men had the good manners to shave their chest hair—because most of the men she knew intimately did—should probably have rung greater alarm bells sooner. He wasn’t so good at pretending to be someone he wasn’t. He supposed he hadn’t realized it at first because he hadn’t initially known he was pretending; deep down he’d always hoped maybe he was a prince or a knight in shining armor. “What?” he growled again.

Damn it, that had sounded like a grunt, hadn’t it?

“Matt,” Allegra said reproachfully, but with a ripple disturbing his name, as if she was trying not to laugh. “She was curious about the rose harvest. And she needs directions.”

Directions. Hey, really? He was flat out damn with directions. He could get an ant across this valley and tell it the best route, too. He and bunnies could crouch down and have conversations about the best way to get their petits through the hills for a little day at the beach.

Of course, all his cousins could, too. He got ready to leap in first before his cousins grabbed the moment from him, like they were always trying to do. “Where do you need to go?” His voice came out rougher than the damn burlap. He struggled to smooth it without audibly clearing his throat. God, he felt naked. Would it look too stupid if he sidled up to that T-shirt and tried getting it over his head again?

“It’s this house my great-grandmother gave me,” she said. She had the cutest little accent. It made him want to squoosh all her curls in his big fists again and kiss that accent straight on her mouth, as if it was his, when he had so hell ruined that chance. “113, rue des Rosiers.”

The valley did one great beat, a giant heart that had just faltered in its rhythm, and every Rosier in earshot focused on her. His grandfather barely moved, but then he’d probably barely moved back in the war, when he spotted a swastika up in the maquis either. Just gently squeezed the trigger.

That finger-on-the-trigger alertness ran through every one of his cousins now.

Matt was the one who felt clumsy, stumbling around battered while everyone else went quiet.

“Rue des Rosiers?” he said dumbly. Another beat, harder this time, adrenaline surging. “113, rue des Rosiers?” He looked up at a stone house, on the fourth terrace on the edge of the valley, just where it got too steep to be practical to grow roses for harvest unless the price went way up. “She gave it to you?”

Curls took a step back.

Had he roared that? His voice echoed back at him, as if the valley held it, would squeeze it in a tight fist and never let it free.

“After all that?” Five months. Five months his Tante Colette had had him working on that house. Oh, could you fix the plumbing, Matthieu? Matthieu, that garden wall needs mending. Matthieu, I think the septic tank might need to be replaced. Every single time he had started writhing at how ridiculous he had made himself over Nathalie, he’d gone over and beaten that house into submission. His aunt’s list of tasks had been endless. “You?”

Curls stared at him, a flash of something across her face—surely she didn’t have any feelings about him soft enough for him to hurt?—and then her arms tightened, and her chin went up. “To her great-granddaughter, yes. I hear people do that kind of thing sometimes.”

Yes, but—“To you?” Tante Colette knew it was his valley. You didn’t just rip a chunk out of a man’s heart and give it to long-lost relative you’d never even met.

Not if you cared anything about him. Tante Colette, were you just using me, too?

“To you?”

Curls’ chin angled high, her arms tight, her eyes shining like the damn dew on the roses. “You seemed to like me last night.”

Wounded, sullen heart, shame, and a hangover were a perfectly horrible combination. “I was drunk.”

She flinched a little as if he’d slapped her. Her mouth set, this stubborn, defiant rosebud. “I never thought I’d say this to a man, but I think I actually liked you better drunk.” Turning on her heel, she stalked back to her car.

End of excerpt

[PS: In case this isn’t clear, Curls is not her real name. Matthieu doesn’t know what that is yet.]

 

Talking at Cameron Village Library Thurs March 27, 7 pm (Raleigh NC)

For those of you in the Raleigh NC area, I will be participating in a panel with lovely authors Jennifer Lohmann, Erin Knightley, Claudia Dain tomorrow (Thursday) evening at 7 pm, at the Cameron Village Library. I’ll bring some books for giveaways!

Otherwise, note that it’s BYOB (bring your own book) if you want to be sure to have something signed. (The library won’t be selling, and you *know* I personally sell for anything but chocolate. “No, I’m sorry, ma’am, I don’t take checks or credit cards. And definitely not cash. Do you have any chocolate on you?” What? Everyone has their own value system.) But you don’t have to bring anything but your smiling face! (No, don’t sit in that audience and frown. Hey, now.)

If you come, make sure to introduce yourself! I’m looking forward to meeting some of you!

Promised Sneak Peek Two

THANK YOU all again so much for continuing to fight for these books in this DABWAHA contest! Crazy fun, lots of silliness. THE CHOCOLATE TOUCH went down in defeat before Julie James. (But, to be honest, I was just flattered to even be in competition against Julie James! An amazing writer, and her popularity is entirely justified.)

But SNOW-KISSED survived into the Sweet 16. (Although this makes me wonder if enough voters actually read its opponent last round. Sarah Morgan’s RIPPED is such a fun story! The heroine’s point-of-view is laugh-out-loud delightful. You should try it!) It will be up against, gasp, one of my favorite novellas from last year next round: the utterly charming GEEK WITH A CAT TATTOO. (I give up now. I love this novella. I got nothing for this battle. “Uh…don’t vote for the cat? Cats hate chocolate?” ) But that vote will be Friday March 28, midnight to noon CST.

Anyway, when I asked on Facebook and Twitter what people would most like to see as a little thank you, half the people said more of SUN-KISSED and half the people asked for a glimpse of the first Roses book. (Matt Rosier’s book.) So how about we start with a little snippet from SUN-KISSED in Anne’s point of view, because she’s watching Dom and Jaime, so that might be fun both for those of you who fought for THE CHOCOLATE TOUCH and those of you who have been fighting for SNOW-KISSED. The hardest part of sharing snippets is choosing which part to share (it has to make sense, stand alone a bit, but not reveal too much too soon), so I’m still thinking about which bit of the Roses books to show.

(Please remember: this has not been edited yet, not even by me. A very rough draft! If you’re saying, “Hunh? Sun-Kissed? What’s that?” go to the previous post and start there.)

SUN-KISSED, excerpt 2

Oh, good God. There was happiness all over this place. Anne stopped again, smiling a little. The lighting she had designed for the wedding played beautifully over Jaime and Dom, soft and sheltering, a gentle cocoon of mellow gold against the darkness. The sound of the sea shushed steadily over the dunes.

Jaime brought her hands up over her head and twirled with happiness, spinning away from her big, rough-looking new husband as if there was too much of that happiness to stand still for it, whirling back to land with a rush against his chest as if she had to hurry back to that happiness’s source. Dom caught her. Anne was pretty sure that man would always catch her.

And it gave her a solid feeling in her stomach, a belief that maybe some joys in this world, some couples, could make it through.

Jaime danced a little against Dom as she clasped her hands behind his neck, and he cooperated, rocking them gently as if they could still hear the last love song in their heads.

Jaime snuggled against his chest, and Anne was considering her possible avenues for retreat without disturbing them, when Jaime laughed, in almost sleepy contentment. “Did you see my dad? Do you think he’s drunk?”

Dom grunted, this remnant of an irrascibility that too much happiness had almost drugged to sleep. Dom dealt poorly with Mack.  Didn’t trust a man that powerful so close to him or to Jaime, Anne was pretty sure. Mack did a little better with Dom from his side, mostly because, as he had explained to Anne one morning on the beach, whatever Dom’s faults, and there are many Mack’s gravel morning voice had added, he was pretty sure the man would do anything for Jaime. “I thought you told me those two were already together,” Dom said.

Anne’s eyebrows went up.

“Well, they’re discreet about it,” Jaime said. “I guess they didn’t want to upset me and Cade when we were teenagers. Or maybe just didn’t want to let the world into their business, because the world is pretty damn nosy about us. But I’m pretty sure they’ve been a lot more than friends for, what, probably a decade now.”

What?

“It’s sweet,” Jaime said. “I think it makes them both so much happier. Although they’re both a hard read.”

Dom shook that black head of his. He was fresh-shaved and very elegant in a tuxedo for his wedding, although a secret rebel’s tuxedo, with an open neck to his white shirt. But he would always have this sexy, big, dangerous thing going on.

Well, what?  Anne’s mouth curved in her shadows. So she thought her sons-in-law—wait, Mack’s sons-in-law—were pretty hot. So sue her. It sure as hell wouldn’t be the first time she’d been sued.

“I don’t know what they might have had when you were a teenager, but if they did have something going on, he screwed up or something happened, and she cut him off,” Dom said definitely. “And he’s been cut off for a while. Your dad looks at her like she’s a castle he’s about to bring down.”

Oh, he did, did he? All Anne’s forces manned her walls in defensive instinct, just at the thought. She hadn’t built those castle walls to be penetrable. She’d built them to withstand a siege.

And somewhere, deeper, lower down, like this secret tunnel that some spy inside her wanted to open to the enemy: He did, did he? He wanted in that badly?

Jaime laughed. “Well, she’d better watch out then. Because once my dad starts his pieces across a chessboard, he wins. Even if he has to knock the whole damn table over and go for the other player’s throat to do it.”

[end of excerpt]

I hope you enjoyed seeing Dom & Jaime again! Thanks again so much for all your support! It really means a lot.

 

Promised Sneak Peek!

First of all, THANK YOU all for voting both THE CHOCOLATE TOUCH and SNOW-KISSED on in this DABWAHA. I really appreciate all the support. I hope it is not a pain for people to keep being nagged for votes!

SATURDAY Noon to Midnight (CST), THE CHOCOLATE TOUCH goes up against Julie James’ LOVE IRRESISTIBLY. Ha, ha, ha. Well, we know how that goes.

Not that I might in any way comparing the lovely Julie James to the Balrog of Moria, of course. Although if that drum soundtrack wasn’t copyrighted, I would totally be having it play with this post right now.

But of course I would love it if you vote to keep up the good fight! And Sunday, SNOW-KISSED will face off against Sarah Morgan’s RIPPED. Sigh. Why DABWAHA, why? What did I ever do to you?

That said, ALL the other books in these rounds are so darn good, I’m not sure *who* I would have wanted to face off against. It’s fun, and a huge honor, to trade banter with such amazing company in the first place. Thank you all for your support! I’m so hugely flattered to have made it to Round 2.

Also, during these rounds, make sure you join us on Facebook. To encourage discussion of unknown authors, I’ve asked readers each round to talk about what books they’ve read, which ones they recommend, etc., and I draw a name from the commenters to receive a book of choice from that Round/Set’s book contestants. It’s been a lot of fun and my TBR has increased enormously! Come join us Saturday and Sunday for more!

A PRIZE FOR THE NEXT ROUND

IF  THE CHOCOLATE TOUCH advances, I will share the first chapter of the book I occasionally mention having on the back burner that features a female chocolatier. Dom is in it! Thus the choice.

I still need to think for SNOW-KISSED for Sunday. Maybe something else from the below. What do you think?

PROMISED FIRST ROUND PRIZE

MEANWHILE, fulfilling my promises for the first round, which were: “If THE CHOCOLATE TOUCH and/or SNOW-KISSED advance to round 2, I will share a scene of Dom and Jaime’s wedding from the point of view of the person with the most to lose.”

This is in draft form!! Be warned. This is the Very First anyone has seen of this book, even of its title. I hope you enjoy!

SUN-KISSED (a very, very short novel in the Chocolate series, coming maybe May 2014 but this is not yet firm)

EXCERPT

“Pay attention to your daughters,” Anne told him. “Cade spent a lot of time on this slideshow.”

Mack turned his head as the first image flashed—Jaime as a newborn, so small he used to hold her in one hand, oh fuck. And then all grinning and chubby-cheeked and freckled and smeared with chocolate. There was one with Julie, helping her learn how to walk, Jaime’s little one-year-old round face just as proud as punch in herself, and Julie beaming, her red head bent to Jaime’s baby-pale red hair. His throat clogged. There were both his little girls, peeking out of some giant resin dinosaur egg in a museum, when they were, what, two and five? So freaking innocent, so sweet. The way they used to pile up on him in the morning. He used to get up extra early, try to sneak in some work so he could take his time over breakfast with them all, so he could get home a little early and not work again until after they went to bed. It had worked out—poorly, at that age. They seemed to have a radar for when he woke up, and no matter how early it was, five minutes later, there would be some head poking in through his office door—then the run, run across the still-dark office that kind of scared them, even though he had learned to keep nightlights along the hall, and the little body burying itself in his arms, snuggling up. Falling back to sleep just at that angle where he couldn’t actually use his arms and get any work done, but—he’d liked it too much to give it up.

More photos with Julie. There she was fixing Jaime’s hair. Holding the hands of both girls in their extra-fancy sparkly dresses as they tried to wear their mother’s heels.

Cade had tried to bring in, through photos, all those things Julie would have liked to do with her daughter at her wedding—fix hair, help with her pretty dress, smile proudly and tenderly as Jaime set off on her next phase in life.

Photos with him. Lots with him, lifting them up in the air, twirling them around, playing with them in the water. Christ, had he really looked that young when they were babies? He was just a kid himself, and already thinking he could run the world? Never lacked for nerve, had he?

A beautiful family photo, one of the many that decorated their house, he and Julie each with an arm around each other, the other arm cradling the girls into the shelter of their happy family.

A newspaper headline from that time Jaime had gotten arrested at a G-8 summit. God almighty, that girl had been a handful. Some photos of her on cocoa farms, a delicate photographic balancing act on Cade’s part, to honor that phase of her life without letting it lead them too close to another transformative event in Jaime’s life, one that Mack still couldn’t think about without his breath shortening, his body caving, as if fists were pounding his lungs. Without his own fists clenching and punching until they broke things.

He glanced at Dom, the big, rough, black-haired Parisian chocolatier his daughter had chosen for herself. Not exactly his dream son-in-law, but Mack had to give him credit—the man would take care of her. He would fight for her. Fight him for her, the bastard. Not that many men willing to fight him. Dom would do his damn best by her.

Another photo, just of Julie, a beautiful one where the sunlight fell on her face just right and her expression as she looked into the camera was so tender, so loving. Under it, Cade had captioned I am so proud of you.

Jaime bent her head and started to cry.

Mack took a step forward—but Dom’s hand was already there. Curving over the nape of her neck. Big and scarred and saying, It’s all right. Cry if you need to. I’m here.

Dom was there. Not Mack. She had somebody else to hug her now, when she needed it, whose hugs she would want more than her daddy’s.

The last slide came up, Jaime and Dom in their wedding clothes, Jaime’s head tilted up, Dom’s tilted down, the expression on their faces—

A hand took his arm, pulling him gently around.

“Damn.” He scrubbed the back of his hand across his eyes, breathing raggedly.

Anne kept tugging, guiding him away from the crowd out onto the veranda. It was a lovely night, but just for a moment the crowd was all inside, focused on the speeches and the first dance, which was about to start. He’d have to get back. He had to do the daddy-daughter dance.

Oh, fuck.

Shit, and he’d been the man who once thought he was too tough to cry. Before his daughters and his wife pummeled all his emotions wide open. He scrubbed water off his face again, trying to calm his stupid ragged breathing.

“Sorry,” he told Anne, who probably never cried. She probably hadn’t even let herself cry the night before she went to prison. “Damn. It’s just that she’s—he’s—oh, damn, they’re all gone now. They’re not my little girls.”

Anne stroked the flower petals of his boutonnière, the one she had made for him, as if getting those petals to lie exactly right would fix everything. “They’re still your little girls,” she said quietly.

“They are to me,” he agreed, anguished. “But they’re not to anyone else. No one will ever, ever love them as much as I—” He broke off, sniffling like an idiot, turning his head to stare at the ocean across the dune.

“I know,” Anne said, sadness shifting across her face, so subtly he was probably the only man who would ever spot it. And it had taken him fifteen years of walks along the beach. Her only son was married, too, and Anne had never talked much about how close that marriage had come to a divorce, but for God’s sake, the two had lived apart for well over a year. Mack hadn’t seen Kai during that time, but Kurt had been a mess, like he was being oh-so-slowly stretched on a rack, inch by excruciating inch past bearing.

He pulled Anne into his arms, suddenly, knowing she wouldn’t like it, but just needing a shared hug, for a moment, with someone who really did understand.

And fuck, why hadn’t she ever talked to him about what was going on with Kurt and Kai? He’d thought that was what they were, the two people who could talk to each other when they could talk to no one else.

Her body went startled and stiff in his arms, which pissed him off somehow, and he snuggled it, teaching her body how well they fit. He’d had a wife and two girls, and he knew how well a hug fit. She relaxed so warily you’d think he’d been asking a snowman to sun-bathe, honest to God.

It’s not going to kill you, damn it. You’re not actually made of frozen water.

Snow Queen, they’d always called her in the press during that enraging criminal justice pursuit. Or Ice Queen. For the woman who compulsively collected houses and turned them into homes. Yeah, get a mass of people yapping at you and they were always idiots.

She stood very still in his arms, like she was pretty sure she was not the right puzzle piece for this spot.

Jesus, Anne. He leaned back against the railing, putting some stubbornness in this hug now, pulling her in tight. God, a hug felt good. Even a hug whose smaller half wasn’t quite sure it wanted to be part of it. He’d just been hugging Jaime before he walked her down the aisle only an hour or so ago, so it wasn’t as if he didn’t have hugs in his life, and yet a hug that wasn’t father-daughter but was, you know, man-woman…

Felt good.

Felt damn alive.

Over Anne’s carefully layered cap of frost-blond hair, through the great windows, he saw Dom pull Jaime onto the dance floor, that big, rough, aggressive, utterly enamored son-of-a-bitch handling his daughter, pulling her in close, the strains of the slow dance reaching them on the veranda gently. Jaime laid her head against Dom’s tux with so much trust, as if she was letting herself completely go.

The way she used to lay her head against Mack’s chest when she was a little girl, and fuck you, Dom. Why do they grow up? How did I lose that?

His arms squeezed Anne harder, holding on to the only thing he could.

[end of excerpt]

***

So….in case you want to know more about what this one is about, the cover copy:

SUN-KISSED

They called her the Ice Queen.

Anne Winters. Self-made billionaire. Household name. Divorced single mom. Convicted felon. She didn’t let anyone or anything get to her. No one was allowed to breach the walls around her heart except for her own son. She had only one trusted friend: her vacation house neighbor. They’d been walking the beach together for twenty years. Not that this gave him access to her heart, of course…

They called him a man who got what he wanted.

Mack Corey. Self-made billionaire. Dominant world player. Widowed father of the bride. No felony convictions yet, although his daughters had come close. He’d transformed his family company into one of the top 500 by the age of thirty. He’d raised two daughters who dumped him for idiot arrogant French chocolatiers and went off to live in Paris. Hell, he even managed to tolerate his dad. But that Ice Queen act Anne Winters had going was really starting to get to him…

They’d been friends for twenty years. Could they become lovers?

Could a frozen heart be kissed by the sun?

Thank you for voting! Chocolate Touch advances; Snow-Kissed up for vote Fri am

THANK YOU FOR VOTING. The Chocolate Touch barely survived being melted by Charlotte Stein and made it through Round 1. You all are so kind to spend your time on this thing!

Random # drawn from the comments was Melinda Utendorf! Melinda, can you email me what book you would like and format?

Another round of voting is open now until midnight (including Ruthie Knox, Mary Ann Rivers, Theresa Weir), and then SNOW-KISSED is up for vote midnight to noon (CST) tomorrow (Friday).

I’m polishing the sneak peek, I promise. Will post soon.

THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH. I really appreciate all the wonderful support.

DABWAHA: A Public Service Announcement for Voters Thursday

By now, many of you are aware of the intense campaign season going on, in the online March Madness DABWAHA book contest.

You know by now, of course, that many voters choose THE CHOCOLATE TOUCH and SNOW-KISSED to beat out Nalini Singh in the final round. And by many, I mean four people. A SIGNIFICANT MAJORITY, in other words.

You may even know that if THE CHOCOLATE TOUCH and SNOW-KISSED advance this round, I’ve promised a sneak peek of Dom and Jaime’s wedding, from the point of view of the person with the most to lose. THE CHOCOLATE TOUCH is up for vote Thursday midnight to noon. SNOW-KISSED Friday, midnight to noon.

But what you may not know is that, FIRST, we must face down a Major Threat.

Yes, this Charlotte Stein person we’re up against Thursday. You may have heard the name. You may even have thought that cover looks like one you could vote for:

But do you, does anyone, know the REAL Charlotte Stein?

When warned that her books were so hot they were going to melt this innocent kitten, what did Charlotte do?

SHE KEPT WRITING THEM. That’s right, people. If anything, she made the next one HOTTER.

When asked of her intentions should she win this contest, what did she say?

“I WILL RULE ALL WITH AN IRON FIST. ALL THE CHOCOLATE WILL BE MINE, MINE, MINE!!!”

YES. This is as close to an accurate quote as I can get without doing actual research to verify my references.

[And her followers said, YAY!  They gave her a mandate for dictatorship!]

No, seriously, have you read this book? Do you know how hot it is??!! Click here only if you’re brave and have firefighter equipment: Run To You

And don’t blame me when all the chocolate in your house melts the instant it downloads! I warned you.

Just watch. Watch what happened to these chocolates when left for 30 seconds in RUN TO YOU’s company.

 

The Dom Richard Tragedy from Laura Florand on Vimeo.

 

[Note: Direction and voice acting by Little Miss Florand. Dom Richard's chocolates played by Fleurir Chocolate. Dom Richard played by Francis Cadieux. Well, by his stunt double, Muffle. Not sure really about the mustache, but think it  might have something to do with a beret not fitting on his ears.]

DON’T LET THIS HAPPEN TO YOUR CHOCOLATES.

VOTE AGAINST HOT BOOKS EVERYWHERE.

VOTE THE CHOCOLATE TOUCH.

Which…well, it’s kind of hot, but THAT’S DIFFERENT. It’s hot WITH chocolate. Compatible. Melting at the right moment. In your mouth. Not on your  hands. Which might be okay in certain circumstances, but…

LISTEN JUST SAVE KITTENS, OKAY? That’s all I’m asking. Dom Richard wouldn’t kick a kitten into the street, and NEITHER SHOULD YOU.

VOTE CHOCOLATE TOUCH.

And SNOW-KISSED. But more on SNOW-KISSED’s rival later. That one associates with Greek gods and stuff. It’s all very suspicious, and we’re looking into it.

Chocolate-Starter for Book Clubs? Tell me what you think!

Would this be a good idea? How many things could go wrong with this?

OK, so there’s something about all the chocolate in these books that seems to be motivating for book clubs. That is, once in a while, people write to me that they’re starting a book club with one of the Chocolate books. Then they send photos in which Awesome Times Are Had! It’s pretty amazing. THEN the book clubs KEEP GOING, and read other authors, and have other good times around other themes. Ripples of book club good spreading out into the world. THAT IS SO AWESOME AND I LOVE IT.

You can see some of the things people have done in my book club gallery. (OK, I confess, it needs to be updated with some more recent photos. I’m behind!) These aren’t always the first event a book club had, but when they are, the book club always goes on to do other books, other authors, have other great times together.

And I always feel so proud when one of the Chocolate books started something like that.  Then, people see the photos and say, “I wish I had a book club like that!” But, of course, you CAN. You have to start it, that’s the thing. And chocolate motivates people.

So then I started thinking…what if I did, like, a Chocolate-Starter for Book Clubs? That is, if you’re thinking it would be so fun to do a book club like that and want to do one of the Chocolate books, I can send some chocolate prizes and things as your starter pack. (Visits to local chocolatiers must be organized on your own! Also, homemade Eiffel Towers. I’m *thinking* about making those French swear flashcards Shannon did but who knows when I’ll get around to it?)

I already kind of do little prize packs, when people write me to let me know they’re doing a book club, but I was thinking, I could make it more open, about that Chocolate-Starter inspiration, so other people know to ask about it. But THEN I thought: How many million ways could this be abused? And then I felt tired and jaded instead of enthused.

But it COULD be really cool. And then, you could share photos, and then you could also, when you pick another book by a different author, let us know who it is and what crazy good times you are having with that other theme. (Because you know I like to talk about books.)

What do you think? Would this be a fun idea? (Would it draw sincere book club creators?) It is a wild and crazy thing that will make me feel deflated later when it doesn’t work out like I thought, or would it really be a lot of fun? (Would YOU want to do it? Have a Chocolate-Starter for your book club?)

Thinking, thinking…

Friday Book Club: What Are You Reading?

It’s Friday! What are you reading? Anything you recommend from this past week? Any plans for this weekend?

Last weekend, I read APPLES SHOULD BE RED, by Penny Watson, which I went ahead and highly recommended on the spot. A novella about a 62-year-old curmudgeon and the 59-year-old pearl-wearing woman coming out of a bad marriage he has to host for Thanksgiving. It’s hilarious, but also very sweet. Tom is priceless. (And only 0.99 right now, I think.) (AMZ link: Apples Should Be Red)

 

This week, two of my friends have released books, so I have one of those tough choices: which one first?

Elyssa Patrick released While It Was Snowing (AMZ Link: While It Was Snowing: a novella), her Christmas novella from a duology last year. I’ve read this one, but it’s one of those stories it can be such a comfort to re-read when you’re feeling overextended and tired. It starts out with the pure physical farce (whipped cream is really overrated in certain situations), then sinks right into the cute of a sex contract (ha, ha, I know that sounds bad! But it’s the sweetest thing. The hero is adorable.) It’s one of those really feel-good reads. Also, can I just say that Elyssa Patrick is such a nice person? Generous and unstinting with others. It’s really wonderful. I want to have her big soul when I grow up.

The other book is from Katharine Ashe: My Lady, My Lord (AMZ Link: My Lady, My Lord). Katie is a personal friend and colleague and so when I look at the cover of this book, I can see her excitement as she talks about it. It’s one of the first books she has published herself (you know by now what a good idea I think it is for an author to do at least some books independently), and she just talks with so much energy about what she’s done with this story: “A different kind of Regency!” (You know I’m a sucker for that word “different”. What is the difference? I need to find out!!)

So…which one do I choose first? Comfort? Or adventure?

What about you? Comfort reads or adventures this weekend? Or a little of both?

Novella Recommendations? Giveaway!!

Thanks so much for all your ideas on the contemporary nominations for the DABWAHA! I’m no closer to a decision, but I have a much longer TBR list now. How about you?

As promised, I’ve drawn one name from the comments: Jacqueline Baxter! Jacqueline, please email me at laura AT lauraflorand DOT com. Let me know what your choice of book is and we’ll get that out to you.

And now for the novellas! Here’s our nifty image of the nominees. As before, YOU get to nominate one other you think belongs in the DABWAHA. What are your ideas? I can think of so many!! It’s really hard for me to narrow down a list.

And have you read any of the ones already nominated? Which ones did you love/would you recommend?  As before, I’ll draw one name from those who COMMENT, either here or on Facebook, to win. This time TWO novellas of your choice. (Because, hey, several are only 0.99, and they’re an hour’s read or so each.) If you’re interested in seeing what other readers recommend, make sure to hop over to Facebook, where most of the discussion usually occurs.

Here’s the list in writing, too:

Ripped by Sarah Morgan

Unbuttoned by Maisey Yates, Romance Author

Back Across the River Styx by Karalynn Lee

Starting From Scratch by Stacey Gail

Snow-Kissed by Laura Florand

The Story Guy by Mary Ann Rivers

Geek with the Cat Tattoo by Anne Frasier / Theresa Weir (Theresa Weir)

I LOVED the discussion last time, about the contemporaries! I’m really looking forward to your thoughts and ideas. And again, if you’ve made up your mind which other novella you want to nominate, here’s where you can do that.

Sales (Chocolate Thief, Snow-Kissed) & Giveaways (your choice of DABWAHA noms)

Sales, first:

THE CHOCOLATE THIEF ebook is on sale for $2.99 on Barnes & Noble. A DABWAHA nominee last year, and the first of the Amour et Chocolat series.

And this year’s DABWAHA nominee, also a Dear Author Best Book of the 2013, and the AAR Reader Poll’s Biggest Tearjerker of the Year SNOW-KISSED is on sale for 0.99 for as long as it’s in the DABWAHA competition. I hope you enjoy! Well, cry. Well, find it full of hope and the power of love, through the tears. (Click on the title to find the page of links to the sales.)

NOW FOR THE GIVEAWAY!

Lovely author and fellow DABWAHA nominee Theresa Romain did this yesterday with her historical category, and I really loved the idea. Here are the 7 books nominated in the contemporary category. Now, remember, YOU can nominate an eighth book. (And so can I. But I can’t decide!) What other contemporary from last year do you think should be in the running? (Why?) Have you read any of these books, and did you like them, would you recommend them?

I’ll draw a name from all those who COMMENT to receive a free ebook or print copy of any ONE of these 7 books, your pick. This is open internationally, as long as Book Depository ships to your country. (Which it probably does!)

Nomination form for the DABWAHA.

I’m looking forward to your recommendations! And hope you enjoy the chance to discover some new books/authors yourself. (Also, discussions of these things tend to be livelier on my Facebook site, so do please hop over there if you want to see what a lot more readers are recommending.)



Here they are in writing:

Love Irresistibly by Julie James

Rhythm and Bluegrass by Molly Harper

The Chocolate Touch by Laura Florand

Carolina Girl by Virginia Kantra

Wrecked by Shiloh Walker

Sleighbells in the Snow by Sarah Morgan

Run to You by Charlotte Stein