Jennifer Probst's Blog, page 19

Let’s Talk Romance Novels…

As a romance writer, I have received many criticisms and judgments on the type of books I prefer to write. I’ve been teased about the bodice ripper covers, about virgins trembling before bare chested pirates, and about contributing to the depression women feel during their search for Mr. Right because I tended to give them “false” expectations of men and set them up for failure.

Mostly, I hold my temper, smile, and say something witty or charming or intellectual. I defend my genre with pride and grace, and refuse to fall into the trap of becoming angry or bitter or argumentative with a person who has no intention of listening to my side.

Until I read a little article today in the IB Times about my life’s work.

http://www.ibtimes.com/damsels-distress-why-do-so-many-contemporary-women-read-old-fashioned-romance-novels-1512548



Seems the writer has pondered why on earth the American contemporary woman of today would read romance novels. He analyzes the culture, wonders if we are truly unhappy with our lot and long to go back to the days when men were old fashioned yet controlling, and we didn’t have as many decisions or choices to make. He equated readers of the genre to gobbling a “hot dog” rather than cuisine. And ended his article by gently nudging readers toward the classics if they must lower their standards to read such a genre. RWA statistics are included in the piece to clearly show the huge popularity and profit in the romance industry, but the writer is completely puzzled and admits he thought the sales number were “much lower.” The writer has obviously never read a romance novel, not even to be observant and fair in his research for the article.

Yeah. I’m pissed off.

But, let’s be honest. Spewing negative comments back doesn’t help anyone. It also doesn’t lift the genre to the elegance and grace it deserves. So, I will try to intellectually rebut this article by using an analysis and research of why women today read romance novels.

First, I have a Master’s Degree in English Literature. I have read all of the “classics” in the genre. Some I enjoy and love, some I did not. But for argument’s sake, let’s agree I am widely read in the field of English literature and do not have a biased account of only reading current contemporary romance novels.

Second, I will approach this as a reader of romance, not a writer, since this is what the article targets. Here’s a quote:

“Is this a rejection of modern feminism? An expression of distaste of the hippie culture which essentially destroyed all traditional forms or behavior in the western world? Do women long for days of old when men were masculine gentlemen and women were feminine and protected as precious treasures and regarded as possessions?

Perhaps most women (even the ones who get lost in romance novels) do not want to go all the way back – but it is obvious, they are unhappy with how the world has turned out in the contemporary era.”

Let’s dissect this comment. Do women read romance because we are unhappy with the world today?

Sometimes. Sometimes not.

Like any reading material, whether it be literary, science fiction, horror, etc, reading is a form of escape. We go to a book because we trust the writer to bring us into an imaginary world where the current world slips away. When we enjoy Dickens or Bronte or Nora Roberts, we are seeking to get out of our present circumstances. Does this mean we are consistently unhappy with where we are? No. I’m a pretty happy and content person who enjoys reading romance for a variety of reasons I’ll get to in a moment. But to assume women wish to change their circumstances, and are reading a romance novel to achieve this goal is a bit…unrealistic.”

Let’s go deeper.

In the form of entertainment, besides being taken away from the moment, we want to gain something from the experience. At the end of ANY book, we want to feel and experience certain emotions, whether it be sadness, tears, rage, frustration, happiness, etc. Sometimes a book makes us think about circumstances days after reading, staying with us in the dark of night until we ponder certain scenes or questions or emotions the novel brought up.

Another quote:

“hyper-romantic, contrived and extremely unrealistic tales of handsome, manly heroes falling in love with virginal women, enduring a series of adventures, then inexorably ending in a happy resolution.

These ‘romance’ stories are to literature what hot dogs are to cuisine — quickly made, tasty, filling, temporarily satisfying, but with no nutritional value whatsoever. Yet, the genre remains enormously popular.”

Romance novels are based on happily ever after. So, when readers picks up the book, they trust the ending will be happy. Now, whether you want to experience a good ugly cry, or fear, or joy, a book does its job by giving you those feelings. Just because readers enjoy the rush of happiness for having a story work out doesn’t mean they UNrealistically believe life will be the same. But if those few hours of time spent on a romance novel installs a sense of peace, or hope, or happiness that lingers into the day—is that like eating a hot dog rather than consuming a gourmet meal?

I don’t think so.

The author doesn’t really delve into the skill of the books, and assumes the contemporary romance are all based on controlling alpha heroes and virginal heroines. The author needed to explore the genre for better understanding of the argument. For example, the current contemporary romance novels popular today, from Jill Shalvis, Susan Elisabeth Phillips, Kristen Higgins, Susan Mallery, Bella Andre, and many, many more that don’t have space to be mentioned here, combine a rich sense of reality within the framework of a happy ending. These characters’ journeys do not hold an easy path. There are deeper, realistic issues tackled that include some extremely dark elements such as abuse, rape, divorce, disabilities, death, and the general everyday disappointments that slowly erode our hope and positive outlook in life. Amidst these issues the hero and heroine grapple and struggle with their own individual demons that emerge from their pasts.

Everyone has issues. Everyone has barriers to love. Everyone experiences depression and grief and heartache. All these emotions are within the pages of contemporary romance novels, and they are not solved easily, but the ending does give the reader hope for a future. Hope that problems can be overcome with hard work and love. Hope that there can be a happy beginning of a new life together.

Is this contrived? Is this not a full, culinary, seven course, gourmet meal to indulge in?

Romance novels are not quickly made. I write them. I know. Months of research, and care, and writing hours upon hours perfecting craft and dialogue and plot are behind the scenes. Because they are so popular, our readers are even more aware of what is good and what is not. My readers are the first to jump on me if I use language or research incorrectly. They are the smartest, most savvy group of people in the world, from all walks of life.

To dismiss an entire genre and casually interpret reading romance novels as an attempt to escape our unhappiness with current society is just…wrong. On many levels.

Finally, the theme of this article should be a cliched warning of appearances. The woman on the train who looked beautifully composed, nicely dressed, and highly successful could have been a mirage. Or maybe not. Who is he to judge a person by his or her outside appearance, making assumptions by what she is reading on her Ipad?

Perhaps, the morale of the story is not to judge a book by its cover. I certainly don’t.

I would welcome a more intellectual debate once the author has read many top sellers in the genre.

Until then, I will get back to my writing. I’m currently researching domestic and sexual abuse, the Baseball Hall of Fame, and surgery for my newest novel.

And I’m not having a hot dog for lunch.

The Biggest Facebook Release Party of the Year Begins!

 

Well, I do love parties.

So when I decided to do one for my new release, Searching for Someday, I figured go big or go home.

 

So I went big.

The authors that are taking time out of their busy schedules to stop in and chat with readers, answer questions, and give away their amazing books and prizes humble me. They are authors I read, respect, and interact with on social media. A huge thank you to all of them for making this one of the most memorable releases I’ve had.

You don’t want to miss out on this. From Wednesday, 11/20 – Wednesday, 11/27, I’m counting down and celebrating the days till Searching for Someday hit stands and cyberspace everywhere by giving you some of the best authors on the planet.

Who, you ask? Who?

How about Carly Phillips? Molly McAdams? Kelly Elliot? Bella Andre? Tiffany Reisz?

Not enough? Ok.

How about Christina Lauren? Laura Kaye? Sydney Landon? Melody Anne?

More? Ok.

How about Kathleen Brooks? Ruth Cardello? Megan Mulry? Wendy S Marcus? Aimee Carson? Maisey Yates?

More? Fine, fine.

How about Jen McLaughlin? Lisa Renee Jones? Rebecca Royce? Eliza Gayle? Mira Lynn Kelly? Barbara Wallace? Elisabeth Barrett? Alice Clayton? Riley Murphy? Elise Sax? Heather Thurmeier? Liz Matis? Mina Vaughn? Katee Robert? Robin Covington? Adrienne Giordano? Kelsey Browning? Lisa Kessler? Mary Leo? Cassie Carver? Jen Talty?

Ok. I’m exhausted. There’s more.

Besides the daily prizes from each author, I’m giving away a GRAND PRIZE of an Ipod with all the songs I listened to on my playlist while writing Searching for Someday!

So hit the join button, hang out with some cool authors, and have fun!

https://www.facebook.com/events/622691654460560/

Cover Reveal for Searching for Perfect!

I am beyond excited to announce an exclusive cover reveal and an interview at one of the most fab sites of all time – The Chic.

I was knocked out from my first cover for Searching for Someday.

But Searching for Perfect – the second in the series – is releasing April 29th and it’s pretty much a grand slam!

Here’s the link…

http://thechicsite.com/2013/11/14/a-day-in-the-life-of-nyts-bestselling-author-jennifer-probst

What do you think? Drop me a comment on my site or Facebook page and let me know!

 

I’m also gearing up for one of the biggest release parties ever on Facebook from 11/20 -11/27. The authors helping me celebrate leave me awestruck. Who, you ask?

How about Carly Phillips? Rachel van Dyken? Bella Andre? Tiffany Reisz? Laura Kaye? Kristen Proby?

And SO SO many more!

Make sure you JOIN the event right here: https://www.facebook.com/events/622691654460560/

 

Finally, I’m giving away a ton of books and doing posts at some of the best bloggers – here’s my schedule for the next few days:

Tuesday, 11/12 – Sizzling Book Club

http://chelssizzle.blogspot.com/2013/11/searching-for-someday-blog-tour.html

Wednesday, 11/13 – Bookish Temptations

http://bookishtemptations.com/2013/11/13/blog-tour-giveaway-searching-for-someday-love-spells-1-by-jennifer-probst/

Thursday, 11/14 – Under the Covers

http://www.underthecoversbookblog.com/

Friday, 11/15 – Shhh Mom’s Reading

http://shhmomsreading.com/

Stop by and say hello and enter to win a book.

Hope everyone has a wonderful week!

Thank You, A Release Party, and Italy!

First off, I wanted to thank everyone who left comments in the blog and Facebook about pursuing your passion. I am overwhelmed by your stories and honored you shared them. It makes everyone feel not so alone.

I counted all entries and picked at random. The winner of a digital or paperback of Executive Seduction is Cynthia! Congrats – I will email you today to claim your book!

My big blog tour will begin in a week, and I will be holding a HUGE release party on Facebook from 11/20 – 11/27. Bestselling authors will be stopping in every day, giving away a ton of prizes, and the grand prize is an IPOD stocked with the playlist for Searching for Someday! Sounds fun, right!

Link and final details coming soon.

For now, how about a break from life. Wanna go to Italy for the day? Sit back and check out my travel memory of Capri Unveiled…

I had such good intentions for my blog. Seven days of Italy. I was going to post photos, talk food, vino, and the gorgeous landscapes of Tuscany.

But I had a deadline.

So I disappeared into the cave and just came out recently. I discovered bulks of mail, unread messages, a messy house, empty refrigerator, and piles of laundry.

Yikes.

Italy was pushed aside. But I came across a photo of Capri and for a few minutes, I closed my eyes. Breathed. And remembered.

Capri is an island I respect. You have to work your ass off to get there. In crazy blistering heat, we took four types of transportation to get to our hotel. First a bus, then a minivan, then a water taxi, and finally the funicular. Dragging our carryon luggage, we walked uphill on twisty pathways. My poor niece looked at me, sweat dripping in her eyes, so exhausted from the endless travelling, and said, “I don’t think I can make it.”

Like anything worth it in life, I got hardcore. “Yes, you can! It will be worth it, I promise, dig deep, keep walking!”

Arms shaking, we finally dropped our luggage and reached out hotel.

Yep. It was worth it.

Yachts floated on the deep, glasslike blue of the water. Gorgeous cliffs rose with majestic grace, and white roofs and houses clustered in the hills, framed by the lush green and rich browns of the landscape. Our balcony overlooked the cliffs and had a hint of the water. The breeze scented lemons and olives and gorgeous vivid blooms. Designer stores lined the paths, amidst cafes and pastry shops selling gelato and home baked goods that rivaled Mama Conte’s bakery, La Dolce Famiglia.

It is a place like no other, hard to describe, from the Mama Mia highway taking you to the highest point of the island, to the sheer grace and raw beauty that attacks your vision.

Capri has a special place in my heart, and I carry it with me now. That tiny sliver of heaven when things get out of control, reminding me it exists, like a beautiful dream or memory…

Is there a special place in your past – on a vacation or maybe around your home – that brings delicious memories and happiness?

Writing Secrets Revealed…

First off, thank you for helping me make the release day for Executive Seduction a success! I’ve picked the winners and emailed them so congratulations to all who helped me spread the word!

I thought it would be fun to take a break from announcements and share some secrets with you. 

When I tell people I’m a full-time writer, I get various reactions. Most are impressed. The career seems quite glamorous, and I get lots of questions regarding my office, how I get my ideas, how many hours I write, and how many books I publish.

Many give a dreamy sigh. “I wish I had the time to write a book,” they murmur. “I have this great idea. Maybe it’s time I get published too.”

Umm, dude, it took me twenty years to make a living out of this.

or

“Isn’t it wonderful to work from home and have so much time for your children and house?”

Umm, dudette, my house is a pigsty, and I never see my children anymore.

But back to my original intention of this post. I want to share some inside information behind the screen of the glamorous writer. It’s a term we know well in our career. It’s a term we fear and dread and if you say it, it’s worse than a curse word or the devil and encompasses every monster hidden in our mental closet.

DEADLINE.

A deadline is an actual date you must deliver our manuscript to your editor. My kids know the term editor very well, too. They whisper it, like she is a fierce Goddess of power, able to yank our house away or bestow a trip to Disneyland in one fell swoop. I have trained them well to know when DEADLINE is near and that my EDITOR will be very, very angry if I don’t deliver on time.

Let’s discuss what happens during deadline. It’s a sad, desolate, scary time in my house. There is no food. There is no cleaning. There is no social conversation or laughter. People tiptoe, and are generally cranky, starting with me and I share the joy until it trickles to each of my family members. Peanut butter and jelly, pasta, and soup are our only meals, unless of course, my husband cooks, which he does because if he didn’t everyone would starve. Wine is plentiful.

I make brief appearances, stomping through the house, muttering under my breath, occasionally wiping away a tear from sheer frustration and fear. This is a time when I get dates wrong. I once showed up for a reading event on the wrong day in my children’s school. My older son used the word deadline to his teacher. I don’t think she understood.

This is a time I get ugly. Really, really ugly. I don’t have time to wash the two pair of comfortable, baggy writing pants because I can’t wait for them to go through the cycles, so I just keep wearing them. I don’t brush my hair – just stick it up in a clip on top of my head. Make-up doesn’t exist. I usually end up breaking out from lack of skin care and sport them with wrinkles.

I smell. I really forget to shower until my husband announces I’m not sleeping in the bed until I do. My legs are porcupines. I get fat, from missed meals and then making up for it with gallons of cheese, bread, chocolate, wine or munchies.

I never sleep. Nearing the end, the voices get louder, insisting me to finish, so I moan and tell them to go away but they talk louder until I stare at the ceiling wondering if I got enough conflict stuck in chapter three, if they should have sex sooner, and if I even have a plot to fix.

Some real events that have occurred in my house at deadline:

1. I washed an entire load of laundry but forgot to put in the detergent

2. I drove to the wrong school and tried to drop my kids off at middle school. They are in elementary.

3. I missed my exit and drove to the next town, several miles away. I was brainstorming.

4. I showed up at a kids birthday party on the wrong day and my children cried.

5. I bought my children expensive Nintendo DS games for absolutely no reason except to keep them away from me until after the book.

6. I wore my shirt inside out to the bus stop. TWICE.

So, there it is. The unvarnished truth of what is behind closed doors during this time.

When the book is delivered, everybody is happy. We go to dinner, and laugh and play board games. We go to the movies. We cuddle and read stories at night, and do fun things on the weekends, and have gourmet meals. The brainstorming begins for a new project, and we have hope we will never go through such stress again because this time the book will be started early. This time, by writing a certain amount of words each day, we will be ahead of deadline. This time, there will be no worries because we have done this before a billion times and have learned our lesson.

Right?

Right?

Drop me a comment HERE or on my FACEBOOK page (Link is on right) on what you’ve done in the pursuit of your work/career/passion/hobby and I’ll pick a winner to get a FREE copy of Executive Seduction in paperback or digital copy – your choice!

 

 

Release Day for Executive Seduction!

I’m so excited to share my official Re-Release of my first book, Heart of Steel, which has been updated with some yummy new scenes and completely edited with a brand new title!

It’s also out on audio for the very first time! Click on my Books or Home Page to buy now in digital or audio.

If you love an alpha, brooding, dominant CEO hero; a stubborn, feisty, independent heroine; an opposites attract romance; and a classic love story – this one’s for you!

And to celebrate, I’m giving away ONE signed paperback and TWO audio copies of Executive Seduction!

Pop on over to my Facebook page and do just one thing to help me spread the word. Drop me a comment on the page letting me know what you did and you score an entry. Anything counts – Twitter, Facebook, Add to Goodreads, Sharing with your book group, bloggers, posting a review, etc. That’s it!

https://www.facebook.com/jenniferprobst.authorpage

Happy Reading and Good luck!

Excerpt from Executive Seduction:

“At least you didn’t invite him in.”

She gasped and spun on her heel. Logan Grant stood at the end of the corridor. Still dressed in his evening clothes, every powerful muscle cloaked in elegant fabric, he cut an intimidating figure. His tie had been ripped off, and the first buttons of his shirt undone. Curly, dark hair peeked from beneath the pristine white cloth. A muscle worked in his jaw as his silvery gaze drilled into her. His voice was a low growl of sound. Rough. Sexy. Her stomach slid and dipped to her toes. She made sure her face showed nothing.

“Why am I not surprised? Don’t you think this could be considered stalking?”

The corner of his mouth kicked up in a grin. “I’ve never stalked a woman in my life.”

“First time for everything.” Her eyes narrowed. “What do you want? Have you trained your women so well that your date is sitting in the car?”

He moved toward her like a predator and stopped a few inches away. The scent of musky aftershave teased her senses. “I took her home. Did you enjoy kissing him, Chandler?”

Her temper surged. “Did you enjoy kissing your redhead, Logan?” Immediately, she realized her mistake and almost bit her tongue with frustration. He’d watched her all through dinner with a possessive gleam in his eyes that annoyed her. The casual intimacy he treated his date with made her angry, too. However, those emotions she could deal with. It was the way her body jumped at the mere sound of his voice, melted at his touch or look, which made her really crazy.

The amusement was back. “Lisa? I gave her a polite kiss on the cheek and dropped her at the door. Why? Does it matter?”

She shrugged. “No.” Then glanced around the empty corridor. “Look, it’s late. I’ve got an early class in the morning.” She turned to dismiss him, but his hand shot out to grasp her wrist. Her heart slammed in her chest. “Is there something else you wanted?”

“If I were sleeping with Lisa, would you be jealous?”

Chandler gasped. “Of course not. It’s none of my business who you sleep with, and I have no desire to know. I wouldn’t tell you who I was involved with.”

“Are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Are you sleeping with somebody?” he demanded.

“How dare you ask me a question like that? You have no right to ask me anything about my personal life.”

Deliberately, Logan leaned in. “It became my right the moment your mouth opened under mine,” he shot back. “When you cried my name and your nails dug into my skin with passion I reserved the right to be your only lover. I’m a greedy, selfish man, and I don’t share with anyone. Especially with Richard Thorne.” Logan studied her face. She tried hard to keep her lower lip from trembling. “The other night we almost became lovers, and today you want to pretend it never happened.”

She pulled her wrist away and crossed her arms in front of her chest. “It was a mistake.”

“It was the first honest response you’ve allowed yourself in a long time.” He stepped back and plowed his fingers through his hair. “Right or wrong, good for you or not, you wanted me in your bed and now you’re too damn scared to admit it. I didn’t see you kiss Thorne like that. I didn’t hear you invite him in. Why? Because something was missing?”

She shook her head stubbornly. “The night you kissed me I was taken by surprise. You wanted to prove a point. Why can’t we let the episode go?”

Chandler watched the male predator before her and waited for his temper to explode. Instead, she heard him speak in an easy tone. “In your little speech the other night, you insisted you were taken by surprise by my, er…forward actions.”

“Yes.”

“So, if I had calmly announced my intentions to kiss you, I wouldn’t have gotten the same response?”

“No.”

“You would have pulled away?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

Chandler watched in fascination as he closed the distance between them. Warm breath struck her lips as his mouth stopped inches from her own. The slow descent held her spellbound. Heat and intense sensual energy radiated from his body. “If I told you I intend to kiss you, you’d refuse to respond, right?”

Her stomach lurched in fear at his obvious intent. She licked her lips nervously and stiffened her body to prepare for battle. “Yes.” The word came out slightly strangled.

His eyes focused on her trembling mouth. “Great. Then as two logical people ready to settle an argument, we’ll conduct an experiment to prove who’s telling the truth.” He paused. “Just in case you don’t know what’s about to happen, I intend to kiss you, Chandler. I’m also giving you plenty of notice so you can’t call foul play after I prove your body was made to belong to me.”

Then his lips closed over hers.

Chandler prepared for a sensual, teasing game like the night before. What she hadn’t expected was the powerful, drugging need that touched fire to her body when his tongue penetrated the seam of her lips to thrust into her mouth, hungrily plundering every secret, dark corner over and over again. Like a flower opening to the sun, she allowed him free access. A deep need burned through her; the need to respond to his masculine invasion; the need to feel her body crushed under his; the need to let her soul soar. She could have fought her response if he’d used cold expertise, or a calculated game of thrust and parry. What she couldn’t fight was this honest, driven kiss. It had been too long since she’d felt a man need her response so badly, and he seemed to want her with a passion beyond the clinical, ruthless mind of a businessman going in for the kill.

Chandler kissed him back. She learned the texture of his lips, the line of smooth white teeth, the heat of his mouth. She reveled in the hard body pressed against hers. She breathed in the scent of him. As the kiss went on, stoking the fires of desire, she wanted more and more and more…

He slowly dragged his mouth from hers. Her skin tingled from the slight roughness of his five o’clock shadow. She let her tongue glide along her bottom lip and caught his taste. Logan groaned. The pad of his thumb pressed over her mouth and traced its outline, following up the line of her jaw. He smoothed back the stray tendrils of hair escaping from her twist.

Chandler almost closed her eyes in defeat. No more lies. Clearly he knew the extent of her physical attraction, and would use the knowledge to his advantage. He’d announced his intentions and she’d been unable to prove she had no feelings. In fact, the opposite was true.

She definitely had feelings for Logan Grant—and that was dangerous.

The temptation to throw away caution and drive over the speed limit coursed through her. What would it feel like to be claimed by such a powerful, attractive enigma? But it would be just sex. He’d quench his sense of challenge, bend her to his will, and move on. Logan had one priority, and that was business. The affair would end with the contract, and she’d lose her school due to a temporary physical weakness. And what about Richard? Would she be giving up an opportunity to have a real relationship to settle for a short affair?

Her mind stepped in and took control. Chandler took a step back and tilted her head back. “I can’t cry foul play.” She smiled tentatively. He smiled back. “But this doesn’t change anything. I can’t get involved with you.”

“What are you fighting so hard to protect?” he asked. “Who hurt you so badly?”

Her face closed off. Her eyes grew distant. “My past has nothing to do with my decision. I admit we have an attraction, but we don’t have to act on it. Can’t you see this is wrong?” she pleaded. “We’re too different. We belong in two different worlds. I can’t go back to yours, and you’d never be comfortable in mine. We would hurt one another, and I can’t sacrifice the Yoga and Arts Center to find out.”

Seconds ticked by and he never moved. Just raked his gaze over her face as if memorizing every inch, every last vulnerability, and cataloging it for the future. He grasped her wrist and pulled her hand to his mouth. Pressing a heated kiss to her palm, she fought the primitive urge to step into his arms and forget.

“Did you ever stop to think I need you in my world?” he murmured. “Have you ever saved a man from himself? I live in darkness, where deception and lies are at every turn. I learned to protect myself by being cold and hard, the only way I know to survive.” Raw emotion carved out his features. “You’re like the sunlight. You radiate heat and truth and all the good things in the world.” He paused. “Save me, Chandler.”

Her lower lip trembled. “I can’t,” she whispered.

“Try.”

Her voice broke. “I think I’m too late.”

“So be it. Here’s my truth. I want you. I’ll drag out every damn secret you have. I’ll stalk every hiding place, haunt your dreams at night, and make your body burn for mine. When you finally surrender, I’ll make you feel more pleasure than you’ve ever known.” He released her hand from his. “Be warned, sweetheart. Cards are on the table. Ante up.”

The clock ticked and she fought for composure. Somehow she’d unwillingly issued a challenge, and he’d do whatever necessary to make her surrender. The sudden flash of vulnerability in his eyes couldn’t be real. And she already knew she wasn’t enough of a woman to save Logan Grant.

He wanted to play business games, but he didn’t understand she was playing for higher stakes. Running would only make him pursue her more ferociously. She’d have to fight back with all the skills she’d learned from her father. Keep your opponent off balance at all times. Never underestimate your challenger. Always be one step ahead.

Logan was about to find out she’d be no easy conquest. She had too much to lose.

She took a step forward and reached for his hand. Slowly, she lifted his fingers to her lips, nibbling on the pad of his thumb, letting her tongue glide along the base. His muscles clenched. She heard the breath hiss through his teeth. With satisfaction, she dropped his hand from her mouth and stepped back once again. The surprise in his eyes made her lips curve in a smile. “Be warned, sweetheart. I was taught to play games by the best. I was also taught to win.” Chandler paused. “Ante up.”

Then she twisted the knob and stepped inside, firmly shutting the door behind her.

 

Big Prizes and Giveaways for 1 Night Stand Anniversary!

Hello my lovelies! I apologize for being away from my blog so long – I was deep in the writer’s cave and just got sprung. Thank goodness I didn’t miss the leaves turning colors – it’s one of my favorite times in New York.

I intend to make up for going away and post numerous blogs in the next week so stay tuned!

For today, I wanted to spotlight an amazing series from Decadent called the 1 Night Stand series. It involves a mysterious French matchmaker, Madame Eve, who is able to set up the perfect one night stand. Imagine the possibilities…

I was thrilled to create a series with the Steele brothers – Catch Me, Play Me, and Dare Me. Like short, erotic, BDSM?

Then these are for you!

To celebrate, enter the Rafflecopter below for some awesome prizes!

Grand prize is a $25 Fandango gift card plus 5 1NS titles of the winner’s choice

2nd prize is a paperback from the vault plus swag

3rd is a 1NS ebook (several winners).

Let’s add to it shall we? Post a comment of what 1NS book from the Steele Brothers you’d like to check out and I’ll pick one lucky winner and send them a digital copy of their choice!

The authors will also be hanging out live tonight at 9:00pm discussing the evolution of the series and the wonderful stories. Join us here:

200 One Night Stands!! Join authors of the popular Decadent Publishing series, 1Night Stand, to celebrate its 200th book with a one-time live event! Fierce Dolan is hosting the series creator, Jennifer Probst, and other notable authors to discuss how the series started, where it’s going, and every steamy step between! Stop by our On Air Hangout and join in the festivities!

https://plus.google.com/events/cifbg9ukaq64ssc62fpt8frppgo

Happy Reading!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Day One- Adventures in Italy

 

I’ll skip over the travel, since that’s the least favorite of my trip, though I will say I watched four entire movies and it was like gorging on candy nonstop with no parental guidance. The first stop was Rome, which is pretty hard core when you’ve been travelling for twelve hours, with a six hour time difference, in one hundred degree heat, and need to hit the Coliseum, Vatican, Sistine Chapel, Trevi Fountain, and Spanish Steps, in one day.

Yeah. HARD. CORE.

I loved it.

There’s something about Rome that hangs heavily in the air. Ghosts of the past. From the rubbled streets, to the soaring architecture, intricate statues, and the Pope at its center, you are immediately steeped in history and realize how young America really is. From bloodshed, gladiators and ruin, to geniuses of epic proportions creating pure beauty and grace, it’s the best of both worlds. Your mind can swim with too many details so I let my vision take over my senses and just soaked it all in as I was soaking wet from the sun beating down on me.

Looking at the Sistine Chapel reminded me of how small I am and how big the world is. But it was only one man, who showed up every day, to paint nonstop until his vision was met, that changed the world. A good reminder. The Pieta isn’t really cold marble. It looks alive, warm, with the Madonna’s cloak falling gently in deep wrinkles, and Christ’s body on her lap broken, with real blood and muscles beating through the glass pane that separated us.

The square at night is magic. Lit up, with the center rimmed with artists sketching and selling paintings in all varieties, the sun set and we sat at a cafe, sipping vino, eating pasta, and enjoying the crowds.  We walked, ate gelato, popped into shops with hand carved Pinocchio toys, and delicate figurines, and got lost.

When my niece and I finally dropped into our twin sized hard beds, we admitted the next morning we’ve never slept so well or so deeply. I began to touch a tiny bit of a place I haven’t seen in a very long time. A sliver of quiet, of focus on me and my experiences, without worrying about others, or responsibilities. The tour guide took over for us – my own version of a BDSM dom who told me what to do and when. Some hated it. I loved it. I didn’t want to be in charge any longer, for a little while, I wanted to just be. I’d forgotten what that was like, beaten by my nonstop workaholic ways, desire to live life to the fullest and not miss anything, my need to be a great mom, supportive wife, loving daughter, wonderful friend. But now, I’d left it behind for a while, unable to check Facebook or Twitter or Pinterest or email or phone texts.

I was in Rome.

My Adventure in Italy

One of the gifts of being a writer is the ability to express myself via words. That is my outlet, my outpouring of emotions when I become overcome, or actually limited. The work is my safety, my savior, my dream, and when I experience something rich and beyond my imagination, the words are the only way to both remember and savor my memories.

I just got back from Italy on a two week tour. The trip was planned three years ago, in a homey kitchen where my aunt, me, my niece and my mom all sat together, eating and chatting. My niece, who just turned twelve at the time, expressed her desire to see Italy. She was taking Italian in school and was fascinated by all things Italian. My mother sighed and said her dream was to see Italy but it had never come true. My aunt and I had gone before, but our respective trips were years ago, and we agreed it was the most beautiful  place on earth.

So, the idea was born.

What if in three years we all went to Italy together? Three generations of females off on an adventure. My niece would be fifteen by then which we agreed was old enough to take overseas. And we made a pact to make it happen.

Three years went by fast. Our trip was rich with food, wine, new people, and the gorgeous landscape of a beloved country. We met people from our own New York, and around the world from Australia, New Zealand, Canada and South Africa.  During the tour, we all experienced something very different and yet all the same. By the end of our journeys, there were tearful goodbyes, and we agreed we would never be the same. Travel does that. For two weeks, there was no tv, twitter, FB, or internet. I forgot what deplugging to a writer is.

A gift.

With so many voices chattering in my head, the various stories sometimes fog amidst the clutter of every day living. But when we strip it down to the basics, the story crystallizes. Creativity has a chance to blossom because the brain rests. We call it filling the well. And it is just as important as the writing.

I received an even bigger gift on this tour. The outline of a brand new novel I can’t wait to write.  Something rich and deep and emotional. I can’t wait to start!

Hang with me this week. I’ll be posting some of my adventures on my blog so I can relive those memories. And there will be photos of course! Lots of photos!

Thanks to everyone who was patient during my “down” time, and who sent me beautiful emails about how much they enjoyed The Marriage Merger. I cried when I heard it hit the New York Times and USA Today list in the first week – it meant the world to me.

Happy Tuesday, everyone.

Homeward Bound…

When we first bought our house, I was ready to birth my oldest son, and had just gotten married. Three huge events experienced within a twelve month period.

That is so me.

We needed a house fast. The small brick ranch was perfect. Five rooms. Cozy. Understated. It needed updates but it was all ours. Anyway, it was only for the first three years. Our starter house. We moved in and were happy.

Three years morphed into the five year plan when I got pregnant again. Jobs changed, we gained two dogs, and a friend moved into the basement. Crowded, yes. Full of love, yes. Our toddlers couldn’t toddle too far away because there was nowhere to go. Hide and go seek games were extra short, but they didn’t care. My little one was thrilled enough to cover his eyes, and within the magic of childhood, believed no one else could see him. There wasn’t stairs to run up or too much space between us, so nightmares and cries for mommy were quickly dealt with. We all watched television together and ate around the family table because there was nowhere else to go.

With ten years now looming before us, we are finally moving. The house is bigger, beautiful, happy. Ready to fill with new memories of our family. But as anything in life, moving forward is bittersweet. Will the past be forgotten and replaced by a new and shinier version? As my children grow, no matter how much I tell them not to, I will look behind me on this move and remember.

I will finally have my own dedicated office space. This amazes me. My current office is a spare bedroom holding a couch, my husband’s closet, endless clothes, and books. My Walmart desk looks like it’s exploded with clutter, dinged up, and scribbled on with endless markers. But even with my kids running behind me, jumping on the couch and interrupting me with endless requests, the work got done. The books were written. I may have stared at a wall but my scenery was my pictures and endless scrawled quotes with mementos that reminded me of who I am. When I hear writers talk about needing their perfect space I laugh out loud. A writer’s space is anywhere she can write. And this office taught me that.

My kids had to share a room. I decorated it with nursery rhymes: Humpty Dumpty, the cow who jumped over the moon, the little woman who lived in a shoe. All the furniture was borrowed from close friends, but my babies didn’t care. The memories of the children who came before guided us which was better than new. My kids learned to respect each other and share space because there was no other choice. The toys and stuffed animals exploded from every corner, but I loved it much better than clean lines and elegant furniture. As I leave, the wallpaper has been ripped, and the carpet damaged. But I smile every time I turn out the lights.

Our living room holds one special recliner that is dubbed “mommy’s chair.” I collapsed there for hours through two pregnancies. I fed them, rocked them, and soothed their tears. My youngest discovered a bottle of bright purple nail polish and decorated it right before Christmas holiday when I was about to have over a dozen people. It never came out. But I love that chair, and worry I will never bond with my new one in the same way.

As I look around the rooms, filled with boxes, my memories scattered throughout, I remember again that life is precious and every stage must be enjoyed. Savored. Good and bad. This little brick house holds my past. My children’s first steps. A shelter from the storm.

I’m homeward bound toward something shiny and new, but I will never forget where it all began.

Same thing with my writing. Each book is an individual experience – a journey never to be forgotten even as we move toward a brand new story.

I wish everyone a safe journey home.