Chloe Stowe's Blog: The Words and Madness of Chloe Stowe, page 14
December 29, 2012
"Stealing the Sunrise and the Next Breath"
“In the land of Gilgamesh and Enkidu, the city of Ur rose above Sumer like a crown jewel.” (page 1)
To Steal the Sunrise.
*sighs happily, proudly*
To Steal the Sunrise, my first historical romance (m/f, no less!) has now been published.
*giggles giddily, perhaps a little manically… I am mentally “off” after all*
I am a published historical romance author!... Yes, if anything deserves an exclamation point this one unbelievable statement of fact certainly does.
As I’ve chronicled over the last two years, oftentimes painfully for both myself and my readers, the beast called Panic has had its grubby claws wrapped firmly around my neck so tightly that it has cut off all possibility of a “normal” career, not to mention a “normal” life. Well, the “normal” life mirage is still shimmering just out of reach on the other side of my horizon. The “normal” career dream, however, has just gone Technicolor, and perhaps just a little 3-D.
Historical romance, particularly in the m/f pairings, is a road that could possibly lead to some financial independence. Yes, the road will be tricky, hazardous and possibly unkind, but the journey, I pray, will be worth it.
Besides, if I get thrown flat on my ass I’ll have a pretty new bruise to show the world.
Working with a new publishing house (the newly re-vamped Noble Romance), I’ve found myself tip-toeing a little through the release process. I apologize for that. My not wanting to jinx or flub this big career step has kept me unusually silent about To Steal the Sunrise’s release…
No more!
Standing proudly in my living room, I throw my shoulders back, stretch my arms out wide to the side and sing to the world my first historical romance blurb/synopsis/back cover tease…
The year is 2600 BCE.
The land is Ur.
Royal temples of mud bricks rise in the stifling desert air. Fields of barley, groves of date palms lay stagnant in the baking heat.
The Sumerian gods watch idly. The tragedy that is about to unfold means nothing to them.
A young woman searches for her queen on the banks of the Euphrates River. But Elenu, the royal lyre player, does not find her ruler. Instead, she finds Asar.
He is the builder to the king. He is a man who holds secrets of his own.
Asar will save Elenu’s life that night.
In return, she will save his soul.
This is the story of love born of sacrifice, of a forever forged in the ashes of one brutal night.
This is the story of Elenu and Asar.
Goosebumps, right? Well, I have goosebumps, nice, tingly ones I never, ever want to get rid of.
So, here are the details as I know them… To Steal the Sunrise is a novella now available for $2.99 through Amazon. In the next few days, it will be available through all the usual suspects, including www.nobleromance.com. Word is that once I have a couple more novellas written in the Sumerian Sands series, I will even be published in paperback.
*giggle, giggle, happily holler to the heavens, “Yes!”*
The Sumerian Sands series will be a series of novellas, the characters not interconnected, based in the time period of Ancient Sumer, from approximately 3500BCE to 1000BCE. It’s a wonderfully rich time period in which to uncover love. With my Masters of Ancient Art History sitting proudly on my shoulder, expect the stories to be nothing less than historically accurate… or so I try. Any gray areas I will fill in with an imaginative, dramatic flair I promise will be true not only to the era but to the story and its characters.
Can you hear that?
The beast by the name of Panic is groaning. Its claws, while still held tight around my throat, are hopefully itching in a little taste of the discomfort their grasp have dealt me over the last twenty years.
I may never be able to breathe freely, but I will continue to breathe…
Deeper.
Richer.
Prouder.
Thank you for your continued support. Every other breath is because of you.
Sincerely,
Chloe Stowe
To Steal the Sunrise.
*sighs happily, proudly*
To Steal the Sunrise, my first historical romance (m/f, no less!) has now been published.
*giggles giddily, perhaps a little manically… I am mentally “off” after all*
I am a published historical romance author!... Yes, if anything deserves an exclamation point this one unbelievable statement of fact certainly does.
As I’ve chronicled over the last two years, oftentimes painfully for both myself and my readers, the beast called Panic has had its grubby claws wrapped firmly around my neck so tightly that it has cut off all possibility of a “normal” career, not to mention a “normal” life. Well, the “normal” life mirage is still shimmering just out of reach on the other side of my horizon. The “normal” career dream, however, has just gone Technicolor, and perhaps just a little 3-D.
Historical romance, particularly in the m/f pairings, is a road that could possibly lead to some financial independence. Yes, the road will be tricky, hazardous and possibly unkind, but the journey, I pray, will be worth it.
Besides, if I get thrown flat on my ass I’ll have a pretty new bruise to show the world.
Working with a new publishing house (the newly re-vamped Noble Romance), I’ve found myself tip-toeing a little through the release process. I apologize for that. My not wanting to jinx or flub this big career step has kept me unusually silent about To Steal the Sunrise’s release…
No more!
Standing proudly in my living room, I throw my shoulders back, stretch my arms out wide to the side and sing to the world my first historical romance blurb/synopsis/back cover tease…
The year is 2600 BCE.
The land is Ur.
Royal temples of mud bricks rise in the stifling desert air. Fields of barley, groves of date palms lay stagnant in the baking heat.
The Sumerian gods watch idly. The tragedy that is about to unfold means nothing to them.
A young woman searches for her queen on the banks of the Euphrates River. But Elenu, the royal lyre player, does not find her ruler. Instead, she finds Asar.
He is the builder to the king. He is a man who holds secrets of his own.
Asar will save Elenu’s life that night.
In return, she will save his soul.
This is the story of love born of sacrifice, of a forever forged in the ashes of one brutal night.
This is the story of Elenu and Asar.
Goosebumps, right? Well, I have goosebumps, nice, tingly ones I never, ever want to get rid of.
So, here are the details as I know them… To Steal the Sunrise is a novella now available for $2.99 through Amazon. In the next few days, it will be available through all the usual suspects, including www.nobleromance.com. Word is that once I have a couple more novellas written in the Sumerian Sands series, I will even be published in paperback.
*giggle, giggle, happily holler to the heavens, “Yes!”*
The Sumerian Sands series will be a series of novellas, the characters not interconnected, based in the time period of Ancient Sumer, from approximately 3500BCE to 1000BCE. It’s a wonderfully rich time period in which to uncover love. With my Masters of Ancient Art History sitting proudly on my shoulder, expect the stories to be nothing less than historically accurate… or so I try. Any gray areas I will fill in with an imaginative, dramatic flair I promise will be true not only to the era but to the story and its characters.
Can you hear that?
The beast by the name of Panic is groaning. Its claws, while still held tight around my throat, are hopefully itching in a little taste of the discomfort their grasp have dealt me over the last twenty years.
I may never be able to breathe freely, but I will continue to breathe…
Deeper.
Richer.
Prouder.
Thank you for your continued support. Every other breath is because of you.
Sincerely,
Chloe Stowe
December 18, 2012
"Jimmy Stewart in Your Stocking": Release Day of the Miracle on Lombard Street Preview Event
Chapter Six: Jimmy Stewart in Your Stocking
“If Davin had been forced to describe himself at that exact moment the words “jolly idiot” would have no doubt made an appearance. “Merry” and “inordinately happy” would have been right there too. All this joyousness was a new thing for Davin. It made him a little twitchy.” (page 118)
With a grin of pure merriment upon my face and an excited tremble to my hand, I present to you my very first Christmas novel. Miracle on Lombard Street has arrived!
As always, the exploits of my men will first be available at RavenousRomance.com. Later this afternoon, Davin and Joseph should make it to AllRomance Ebooks and Amazon.
Please help me spread the word and the good cheer!
As I’m hoping (fingers and toes are all crossed) that you’ll be reading plenty of my words later on today, I will leave you with a simple thank you for your continued readership and support. Thank for you for making my holidays jolly, indeed.
Until tomorrow…
Chloe Stowe
www.ravenousromance.comChloe Stowe
“If Davin had been forced to describe himself at that exact moment the words “jolly idiot” would have no doubt made an appearance. “Merry” and “inordinately happy” would have been right there too. All this joyousness was a new thing for Davin. It made him a little twitchy.” (page 118)
With a grin of pure merriment upon my face and an excited tremble to my hand, I present to you my very first Christmas novel. Miracle on Lombard Street has arrived!
As always, the exploits of my men will first be available at RavenousRomance.com. Later this afternoon, Davin and Joseph should make it to AllRomance Ebooks and Amazon.
Please help me spread the word and the good cheer!
As I’m hoping (fingers and toes are all crossed) that you’ll be reading plenty of my words later on today, I will leave you with a simple thank you for your continued readership and support. Thank for you for making my holidays jolly, indeed.
Until tomorrow…
Chloe Stowe
www.ravenousromance.comChloe Stowe
December 17, 2012
"Asperger's: Truth, not Fear": Day Five of the Miracle on Lombard Street Preview
Chapter Five: Chortles and Bananas
“But there was a small corner inside of him where an irrational panic hid. It hid until the sun disappeared and the night crashed in through his windows. Even now he shivered remembering it. “It was the kind of dark you can’t understand. The kind you don’t want to.”” (page 108)
My moment of silence is over.
For two days, I’ve kept this blog quiet out of respect for the innocent lives lost in Connecticut Friday. I felt it was the best way I could acknowledge the tragedy. I hope everyone understands that.
Now, however, the silence must be broken.
It has been rumored by various media outlets (the same media outlets that had erroneously identified the shooter as Ryan Lanza and Mrs. Lanza as a teacher at Sandy Hook Elementary) that the killer, Adam, suffered from Asperger’s Syndrome. Whether or not this turns out to be true, I’m deathly afraid that this “mild” form of autism will be (and has already been) used as a reason for the violence.
I must, and I will continue to vehemently disagree.
Balthazar Macy, the twelve year old boy in Miracle on Lombard Street suffers from Asperger’s. This choice of characterization was made months ago. Of course, there was no way I could have known that the syndrome would suddenly be filling the headlines right before Christmas, right before my novel’s release tomorrow. I have mixed feelings about this coincidence.
My initial knee-jerk reaction was “You’ve got to be freaking kidding me! Maybe it’s not too late to change, well, everything.” The very last thing I wanted to do was to tug at heartstrings still bleeding just to tell a silly story. I don’t want to profit from this tragedy whatsoever. I thought about asking for the book to be pulled…
Then, I yanked my head out of my ass and realized the truth.
Perhaps, just perhaps, twelve year old Balthazar could be used as a small, meek though powerful beacon of truth.
Asperger’s Syndrome does not cause violence. It should not be blamed for the evil the shooter exhibited last Friday, and it should not be looked at as a “marker” for killers-to-be.
Asperger’s is a condition that greatly effects a person’s ability to socially interact with the world. It often isolates its sufferers; it does not turn them into murderers.
Balthazar is a sweet boy whose belief in Christmas magic is magical in and of itself. There is not a violent bone in his body. His story, while fictional, is realistic. Reading about his struggles and his triumphs I hope will reveal the truth about Asperger’s.
I often ask myself if there is a reason why God has chosen to send me down this writing path. Perhaps, just perhaps, Balthazar Macy is the reason why.
Miracle on Lombard Street releases tomorrow, Tuesday December 18th. I hope you consider adding it to your romance library not because of Balthazar but because you want to read a damn good love story…
But if you do allow Balthazar Macy into your life I promise that you will treasure the boy, not fear him.
Until tomorrow…
Chloe
Chloe Stowe
“But there was a small corner inside of him where an irrational panic hid. It hid until the sun disappeared and the night crashed in through his windows. Even now he shivered remembering it. “It was the kind of dark you can’t understand. The kind you don’t want to.”” (page 108)
My moment of silence is over.
For two days, I’ve kept this blog quiet out of respect for the innocent lives lost in Connecticut Friday. I felt it was the best way I could acknowledge the tragedy. I hope everyone understands that.
Now, however, the silence must be broken.
It has been rumored by various media outlets (the same media outlets that had erroneously identified the shooter as Ryan Lanza and Mrs. Lanza as a teacher at Sandy Hook Elementary) that the killer, Adam, suffered from Asperger’s Syndrome. Whether or not this turns out to be true, I’m deathly afraid that this “mild” form of autism will be (and has already been) used as a reason for the violence.
I must, and I will continue to vehemently disagree.
Balthazar Macy, the twelve year old boy in Miracle on Lombard Street suffers from Asperger’s. This choice of characterization was made months ago. Of course, there was no way I could have known that the syndrome would suddenly be filling the headlines right before Christmas, right before my novel’s release tomorrow. I have mixed feelings about this coincidence.
My initial knee-jerk reaction was “You’ve got to be freaking kidding me! Maybe it’s not too late to change, well, everything.” The very last thing I wanted to do was to tug at heartstrings still bleeding just to tell a silly story. I don’t want to profit from this tragedy whatsoever. I thought about asking for the book to be pulled…
Then, I yanked my head out of my ass and realized the truth.
Perhaps, just perhaps, twelve year old Balthazar could be used as a small, meek though powerful beacon of truth.
Asperger’s Syndrome does not cause violence. It should not be blamed for the evil the shooter exhibited last Friday, and it should not be looked at as a “marker” for killers-to-be.
Asperger’s is a condition that greatly effects a person’s ability to socially interact with the world. It often isolates its sufferers; it does not turn them into murderers.
Balthazar is a sweet boy whose belief in Christmas magic is magical in and of itself. There is not a violent bone in his body. His story, while fictional, is realistic. Reading about his struggles and his triumphs I hope will reveal the truth about Asperger’s.
I often ask myself if there is a reason why God has chosen to send me down this writing path. Perhaps, just perhaps, Balthazar Macy is the reason why.
Miracle on Lombard Street releases tomorrow, Tuesday December 18th. I hope you consider adding it to your romance library not because of Balthazar but because you want to read a damn good love story…
But if you do allow Balthazar Macy into your life I promise that you will treasure the boy, not fear him.
Until tomorrow…
Chloe
Chloe Stowe
December 14, 2012
"The Russian Ballet": Day Four of the Miracle of Lombard Street Preview Event
Chapter Four: The Russian Ballet
“Maybe.” Like a long, smoldering fire that never really went completely out, mischief once again electrified the blue in his eyes. “If you rub my belly.” (page 83)
As the release day for my first full-length Christmas novel nears (Monday or Tuesday, folks), I find myself giddy with excitement, twirling around on my toes like a Nutcracker ballerina…
Well, ok, maybe Nutcracker is not exactly the right word to describe a m/m romance writer. While I might do a lot to my men’s jewels, I have never, ever cracked a single nut bedecking their groins. Fondle, manhandle, bathe with an appreciative lover’s tongue, sure. Cracking, no.
I’m a lover, not a cracker.
*roll my eyes and groan*
Apparently giddiness translates into bad, bad writing in the Chloe Stowe world. Sorry. I’ll try to restrain myself from now on.
To celebrate the Friday before a late December release, I’m celebrating by giving everyone a sneak peek at the Miracle on Lombard Street cover!
Please, keep the squeals of delight to a minimum. We don’t want to scare any eavesdropping elves (try saying that one thrice, *grins*).
So without further adieu, or ballerina analogies, I give you my latest cover…
(please see chloestowe.com)
Jolly, ain’t it? *smiles*
Spread the word and spread the Santa, Chloe and her much beloved nuts are coming to town Monday (or Tuesday)!
Until tomorrow…
Chloe Stowe
Chloe Stowe
“Maybe.” Like a long, smoldering fire that never really went completely out, mischief once again electrified the blue in his eyes. “If you rub my belly.” (page 83)
As the release day for my first full-length Christmas novel nears (Monday or Tuesday, folks), I find myself giddy with excitement, twirling around on my toes like a Nutcracker ballerina…
Well, ok, maybe Nutcracker is not exactly the right word to describe a m/m romance writer. While I might do a lot to my men’s jewels, I have never, ever cracked a single nut bedecking their groins. Fondle, manhandle, bathe with an appreciative lover’s tongue, sure. Cracking, no.
I’m a lover, not a cracker.
*roll my eyes and groan*
Apparently giddiness translates into bad, bad writing in the Chloe Stowe world. Sorry. I’ll try to restrain myself from now on.
To celebrate the Friday before a late December release, I’m celebrating by giving everyone a sneak peek at the Miracle on Lombard Street cover!
Please, keep the squeals of delight to a minimum. We don’t want to scare any eavesdropping elves (try saying that one thrice, *grins*).
So without further adieu, or ballerina analogies, I give you my latest cover…
(please see chloestowe.com)
Jolly, ain’t it? *smiles*
Spread the word and spread the Santa, Chloe and her much beloved nuts are coming to town Monday (or Tuesday)!
Until tomorrow…
Chloe Stowe
Chloe Stowe
December 13, 2012
"The Dangers of Disney": Day Three of the Miracle on Lombard Street Preview Event
Chapter Three: The Dangers of Disney
“While women tasted of chocolate, citrus and mint, Davin Clarke tasted of whiskey and need.” (page 66)
Ok, admit it. Who just snickered at the title? Raise your hands, please, while I count…
Not you, Leon. You’re just drunk. And, like I’ve told you before, giggling champagne out of your nose is not attractive. Jeez, if I could just have a regular dog like everyone else in the world...
Hee-hee.
Love it or hate it, Disney does do something to a soul. Just a mention of the corporate cuddly beast and you’ll likely to start humming some catchy, merry, totally annoying tune. I, for one, now have The Jungle Book’s “Bare Necessities” cheerily chipping away at the crumbling sanity in my head. If I end up in a strait jacket thinking I’m a giant dancing bear by the name of Baloo, Disney is going down, my friends.
The dangers of Disney. Who knew, huh?
Admittedly, most people aren’t dealing with a psyche oftentimes in ruins when they get that darn sing-song bug stuck in their heads… speaking of which, have you ever noticed how everything sings in the Disney world? Bugs, crickets, fish, elephants, mice? Come on! Dear old Walt is just begging for some of us to slip into delusion land. Some of us don’t need that kind of help, old man.
Hee-hee.
Or, of course, the danger of Walt Disney might very well be that once the guy and his mouse gets a song in your heart, that silly, silly song just might not leave. It’ll grow inside of you, eat away all those blah places in your soul and replace them with a Baloo, a Mickey, a Goofy or, God help you, a Jiminy.
Who wants to deal with a chatty cricket in their head for the rest of their lives?
Raise your hands, while I count… and yes, Leon, I realize I’m raising my hand. It is not a dog’s job to point out such embarrassing crap, however. Go back to your bubbly, buddy.
Of course, it may already be too late for me. I don’t have a dog named Leon.
Save yourselves, my friends.
Until tomorrow…
Chloe, Leon and Baloo
Chloe Stowe
“While women tasted of chocolate, citrus and mint, Davin Clarke tasted of whiskey and need.” (page 66)
Ok, admit it. Who just snickered at the title? Raise your hands, please, while I count…
Not you, Leon. You’re just drunk. And, like I’ve told you before, giggling champagne out of your nose is not attractive. Jeez, if I could just have a regular dog like everyone else in the world...
Hee-hee.
Love it or hate it, Disney does do something to a soul. Just a mention of the corporate cuddly beast and you’ll likely to start humming some catchy, merry, totally annoying tune. I, for one, now have The Jungle Book’s “Bare Necessities” cheerily chipping away at the crumbling sanity in my head. If I end up in a strait jacket thinking I’m a giant dancing bear by the name of Baloo, Disney is going down, my friends.
The dangers of Disney. Who knew, huh?
Admittedly, most people aren’t dealing with a psyche oftentimes in ruins when they get that darn sing-song bug stuck in their heads… speaking of which, have you ever noticed how everything sings in the Disney world? Bugs, crickets, fish, elephants, mice? Come on! Dear old Walt is just begging for some of us to slip into delusion land. Some of us don’t need that kind of help, old man.
Hee-hee.
Or, of course, the danger of Walt Disney might very well be that once the guy and his mouse gets a song in your heart, that silly, silly song just might not leave. It’ll grow inside of you, eat away all those blah places in your soul and replace them with a Baloo, a Mickey, a Goofy or, God help you, a Jiminy.
Who wants to deal with a chatty cricket in their head for the rest of their lives?
Raise your hands, while I count… and yes, Leon, I realize I’m raising my hand. It is not a dog’s job to point out such embarrassing crap, however. Go back to your bubbly, buddy.
Of course, it may already be too late for me. I don’t have a dog named Leon.
Save yourselves, my friends.
Until tomorrow…
Chloe, Leon and Baloo
Chloe Stowe
December 11, 2012
"Home Fires Burning": Day Two of the Miracle on Lombard Street Preview Event
Chapter Two: Home Fires Burning
“As for Davin and Joe, blocks passed without a word being shared. The silence, however, was somehow warm and far from empty. There were brushes of shoulders, nudges of elbows and sparring of gazes. Neither man hid his attraction for the other. Far from it. They toyed with each other with everything but their tongues.” (page 53)
Bright and bushy-tailed (and a very fine bushy-tail, it is), I welcome one and all to Day Two of the Miracle on Lombard Street Preview Blogging Event.
For all concerned citizens, I am happy to say that my cold is better and survival is now a distinct possibility. Unfortunately, coughing fits still tackle me with no warning, sending my panic-challenged brain roaring back to bad, bad days. But no worries, I will not allow a simple cold to take me and my sanity out. No way. No how… and if that sounds like some “buck it up” motivational cheerleading on my part, I plead the fifth.
Moving on…
Negotiations are currently underway as to the exact date of Miracle on Lombard Street’s release. All indications indicate that the big day will be Monday and Tuesday of next week. Once these high-level, heated, boardroom discussions are complete I will pass the final decision on to you… please insert completely non-sarcastic smile here.
The image of “home fires burning” has been particularly poignant for me this week. As noted above, I’ve been battling some briar-filled memories this last week. To put it simply, I don’t do sick. Any kind of sick. Injury? Bring it on. Sniffles? You’ll find me hiding under my bed.
Please don’t stuff me into that Cowardly Lion costume too quickly, however. I’m not as big of a baby as I may appear. Really.
When I was eleven, in the first major appearance of my panic disorder in my life, I convinced myself that I was dying. My heart was giving out. It was either beating too slow, too fast or too irregularly for me to survive. I was convinced with every fiber of my soul that I would not live to see my fourteenth birthday.
I was terrified, absolutely scared to death. For hours, I’d sit with my hand on my chest, counting the heartbeats, sure that I was about to feel my last one.
As the months dragged on and my fear escalated, I would make myself so nervous that my heart would start to actually beat erratically. An extra thump here, a missing thump there assured me that I was going to die.
Guess what?
I didn’t.
And every year on my birthday, I thank God that I made it to fourteen. I have vowed never to complain about getting older. Every decade that I see is an unexpected blessing, a cherished event that leaves me saying “Wow!”
Unfortunately, this habit of my body’s to go along with whatever freaked out thing my mind is thinking at the time has not dissipated with the years or the meds. For instance, if I convince myself that every time I cough I will puke, well then, every time I cough, I puke. Done deal… that is until I can convince my mind otherwise.
Silly, isn’t it?
Stupid, certainly.
Sad? Yeah, sometimes it is just sad.
And sometimes all I find myself saying, with no clear logic attached, “I just want to go home.”
Bright and bushy-tailed, I do indeed write this blog to you. The panic has faded again, and I find myself already home.
Until tomorrow…
Chloe Stowe
Chloe Stowe
“As for Davin and Joe, blocks passed without a word being shared. The silence, however, was somehow warm and far from empty. There were brushes of shoulders, nudges of elbows and sparring of gazes. Neither man hid his attraction for the other. Far from it. They toyed with each other with everything but their tongues.” (page 53)
Bright and bushy-tailed (and a very fine bushy-tail, it is), I welcome one and all to Day Two of the Miracle on Lombard Street Preview Blogging Event.
For all concerned citizens, I am happy to say that my cold is better and survival is now a distinct possibility. Unfortunately, coughing fits still tackle me with no warning, sending my panic-challenged brain roaring back to bad, bad days. But no worries, I will not allow a simple cold to take me and my sanity out. No way. No how… and if that sounds like some “buck it up” motivational cheerleading on my part, I plead the fifth.
Moving on…
Negotiations are currently underway as to the exact date of Miracle on Lombard Street’s release. All indications indicate that the big day will be Monday and Tuesday of next week. Once these high-level, heated, boardroom discussions are complete I will pass the final decision on to you… please insert completely non-sarcastic smile here.
The image of “home fires burning” has been particularly poignant for me this week. As noted above, I’ve been battling some briar-filled memories this last week. To put it simply, I don’t do sick. Any kind of sick. Injury? Bring it on. Sniffles? You’ll find me hiding under my bed.
Please don’t stuff me into that Cowardly Lion costume too quickly, however. I’m not as big of a baby as I may appear. Really.
When I was eleven, in the first major appearance of my panic disorder in my life, I convinced myself that I was dying. My heart was giving out. It was either beating too slow, too fast or too irregularly for me to survive. I was convinced with every fiber of my soul that I would not live to see my fourteenth birthday.
I was terrified, absolutely scared to death. For hours, I’d sit with my hand on my chest, counting the heartbeats, sure that I was about to feel my last one.
As the months dragged on and my fear escalated, I would make myself so nervous that my heart would start to actually beat erratically. An extra thump here, a missing thump there assured me that I was going to die.
Guess what?
I didn’t.
And every year on my birthday, I thank God that I made it to fourteen. I have vowed never to complain about getting older. Every decade that I see is an unexpected blessing, a cherished event that leaves me saying “Wow!”
Unfortunately, this habit of my body’s to go along with whatever freaked out thing my mind is thinking at the time has not dissipated with the years or the meds. For instance, if I convince myself that every time I cough I will puke, well then, every time I cough, I puke. Done deal… that is until I can convince my mind otherwise.
Silly, isn’t it?
Stupid, certainly.
Sad? Yeah, sometimes it is just sad.
And sometimes all I find myself saying, with no clear logic attached, “I just want to go home.”
Bright and bushy-tailed, I do indeed write this blog to you. The panic has faded again, and I find myself already home.
Until tomorrow…
Chloe Stowe
Chloe Stowe
December 10, 2012
"Snoopy in the Sky": Day One of the Miracle on Lombard Street Preview Event
Chapter One: Snoopy in the Sky
“It was Thanksgiving morning in San Francisco. Crisp and clear, the sky was a spectacular blue. The last tendrils of fog had scampered away with the first rays of the late November sun.” (page 1)
I press my ear to the frosted window and smile. A Chloe Stowe first-liner always brings an appreciative sigh from the world, an “Ahh, finally!” that I cherish with all my sweetest delusions of grandeur…
*cough, cough, a swift kick to my ass*
Yeah, well, reality sucks tunas, so while I peel my stupid ear lobe off of the icy glass, you can take the time to settle in for five days of festive preview blogging! Yes, it’s that time again, folks. A brand new Chloe Stowe novel is outracing Santa down your chimneys this year.
Miracle on Lombard Street, my 14th novel, will be released this week! Specific date is still up in the air, but when I know, you’ll know.
Of course that means I’m going to start talking again. Yapping up the airwaves. Chatting your ears off – speaking of ears, does anybody have a band-aid and some industrial strength Windex? Even the tiniest of psychotic breaks can be darn messy.
So, here I am- delusions, tunas and all!
For the next five days, I will be blogging daily, teasing each of my readers with a chapter title and an excerpt from my very first, full-length Christmas novel. Today, you’ve already gotten “Snoopy in the Sky” and as always the first lines of my newest work. If that isn’t enough to set your toes a-tingling, you will also be getting the juicy blurb. Now whose champagne is fizzing and popping and cranking out a chorus of Jingle Bells?
Sorry. I’m sick as a dog right now so my normally skewed mind is even a little more screwy this morning. Unfortunately, with the big meds I’m on for my chronic panic disorder, cold meds are out of the picture. Talk about sucking tunas big time… yeah, I don’t know what it is with the tunas today either. Seems a little fishy to me. *grins*
Without further adieu, or marine creatures of any kind, here is your blurb…
Taking its cue from the classic “Miracle on 34th Street,” Miracle on Lombard Street is a modern take on the wondrous story of the holiday magic born of the words “I believe.”
Balthazar Macy believes his suspicions are correct. No matter how much Skule Winters denies it, the old man is indeed Santa Claus. All he has to do is prove it.
Joseph Macy believes that life is bitterly unfair. There is only one thing in the world that he trusts implicitly: the love of his little brother. And Joseph will do everything to protect the autistic boy he alone is entrusted in raising.
Davin Clarke believes that life is good. Troubles are only hurdles needed to be negotiated cleanly to reach better, greener pastures. He, however, has never met a hurdle quite like Joseph Macy.
Skule Winters believes. What it is that the old man believes in, however, only a boy by the name of Balthazar will be able to bring to light.
As Christmas dawns on these men’s lives, a fiery love, a forgotten faith and a touch of magic will greet them.
If you were to press your ear to the chilled window pane right now, you really would hear my appreciative sigh. No delusions necessary. *smiles*
Tomorrow I hope to have more substance to share. I’m planning on dealing the knockout punch to my cold today, so I will be fresh and fish-free the next frosty morn… Ok, now I’m starting to alliterate. It is definitely time to let you go.
Until tomorrow, when clearer heads will prevail…
Chloe
Chloe Stowe
“It was Thanksgiving morning in San Francisco. Crisp and clear, the sky was a spectacular blue. The last tendrils of fog had scampered away with the first rays of the late November sun.” (page 1)
I press my ear to the frosted window and smile. A Chloe Stowe first-liner always brings an appreciative sigh from the world, an “Ahh, finally!” that I cherish with all my sweetest delusions of grandeur…
*cough, cough, a swift kick to my ass*
Yeah, well, reality sucks tunas, so while I peel my stupid ear lobe off of the icy glass, you can take the time to settle in for five days of festive preview blogging! Yes, it’s that time again, folks. A brand new Chloe Stowe novel is outracing Santa down your chimneys this year.
Miracle on Lombard Street, my 14th novel, will be released this week! Specific date is still up in the air, but when I know, you’ll know.
Of course that means I’m going to start talking again. Yapping up the airwaves. Chatting your ears off – speaking of ears, does anybody have a band-aid and some industrial strength Windex? Even the tiniest of psychotic breaks can be darn messy.
So, here I am- delusions, tunas and all!
For the next five days, I will be blogging daily, teasing each of my readers with a chapter title and an excerpt from my very first, full-length Christmas novel. Today, you’ve already gotten “Snoopy in the Sky” and as always the first lines of my newest work. If that isn’t enough to set your toes a-tingling, you will also be getting the juicy blurb. Now whose champagne is fizzing and popping and cranking out a chorus of Jingle Bells?
Sorry. I’m sick as a dog right now so my normally skewed mind is even a little more screwy this morning. Unfortunately, with the big meds I’m on for my chronic panic disorder, cold meds are out of the picture. Talk about sucking tunas big time… yeah, I don’t know what it is with the tunas today either. Seems a little fishy to me. *grins*
Without further adieu, or marine creatures of any kind, here is your blurb…
Taking its cue from the classic “Miracle on 34th Street,” Miracle on Lombard Street is a modern take on the wondrous story of the holiday magic born of the words “I believe.”
Balthazar Macy believes his suspicions are correct. No matter how much Skule Winters denies it, the old man is indeed Santa Claus. All he has to do is prove it.
Joseph Macy believes that life is bitterly unfair. There is only one thing in the world that he trusts implicitly: the love of his little brother. And Joseph will do everything to protect the autistic boy he alone is entrusted in raising.
Davin Clarke believes that life is good. Troubles are only hurdles needed to be negotiated cleanly to reach better, greener pastures. He, however, has never met a hurdle quite like Joseph Macy.
Skule Winters believes. What it is that the old man believes in, however, only a boy by the name of Balthazar will be able to bring to light.
As Christmas dawns on these men’s lives, a fiery love, a forgotten faith and a touch of magic will greet them.
If you were to press your ear to the chilled window pane right now, you really would hear my appreciative sigh. No delusions necessary. *smiles*
Tomorrow I hope to have more substance to share. I’m planning on dealing the knockout punch to my cold today, so I will be fresh and fish-free the next frosty morn… Ok, now I’m starting to alliterate. It is definitely time to let you go.
Until tomorrow, when clearer heads will prevail…
Chloe
Chloe Stowe
September 22, 2012
"To Prove Them Wrong": Final Day of Hellesgate's Long Goodbye
Chapter Eight: To Prove Them Wrong
“Strangers were all around him now, giving him orders, trying to push him out of the room. Dimas paid them no mind.” (page 112)
The keys are in my hand. The door is firmly closed. All that’s left to be done is to turn the lock and walk away.
Hellesgate’s long goodbye is almost complete.
It’s been a long journey these men and their friends and family have been upon. I hope I leave them better off than I found them eighteen months ago. For despite all the trials and tribulations I have forced them to go through, they did find each other. I, for one, would be glad to face blizzards, wars, earthquakes and betrayals if it meant finding the one true mate to my soul.
And to you, their loyal fans, I hope my words have left you satisfied and glad to have known a New York real estate mogul by the name of Matthew and a wounded war hero by the name of Cane.
Before I turn the key one last time and lock away Hellesgate into our memories, I do have an announcement I hope excites you as much as it does me.
I have just sold my first f/m historical romance!
For longtime followers to this blog, you know that it has been a goal of mine to break into that market. I adore diving into history to pick out times and events seeded for romance. I find it a challenge to mold my modern day take on relationships to the customs and standards of a long vanished world. My latent art historical love is tickled at the prospects of what may be to come.
Fear not, however. I am hardly abandoning the m/m romance genre. As I announced in yesterday’s blog, I have just signed on to do a Christmas novel with Ravenous Romance. I plan on continuing in both lines for as long as the publishing gods allow.
I do hope you will follow me to this new step in my career; in fact, I am counting on it. Your support and your loyalty to my 13 (so far) novels I feel was a major part in my being offered a contract. My fan base is superb. With all my heart, I thank you for that.
And even if historical romance is not your “thing,” I hope you will send any wandering historical romance junkies my way.
To Steal the Sunrise, a novella set in ancient Sumer, should be released before the end of the year. I will, of course, keep you updated. Expect preview blogging for both the novella and Miracle on Lombard Street in the coming weeks.
The key now slips into the lock. I turn it and with a smile I walk away from Hellesgate.
Until next time…
Chloe Stowe
Chapter Nine: A Single Word Upon His Lips
““Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain,” his mind pleaded with him. But what has been seen cannot be unseen.” (page 119)
“Strangers were all around him now, giving him orders, trying to push him out of the room. Dimas paid them no mind.” (page 112)
The keys are in my hand. The door is firmly closed. All that’s left to be done is to turn the lock and walk away.
Hellesgate’s long goodbye is almost complete.
It’s been a long journey these men and their friends and family have been upon. I hope I leave them better off than I found them eighteen months ago. For despite all the trials and tribulations I have forced them to go through, they did find each other. I, for one, would be glad to face blizzards, wars, earthquakes and betrayals if it meant finding the one true mate to my soul.
And to you, their loyal fans, I hope my words have left you satisfied and glad to have known a New York real estate mogul by the name of Matthew and a wounded war hero by the name of Cane.
Before I turn the key one last time and lock away Hellesgate into our memories, I do have an announcement I hope excites you as much as it does me.
I have just sold my first f/m historical romance!
For longtime followers to this blog, you know that it has been a goal of mine to break into that market. I adore diving into history to pick out times and events seeded for romance. I find it a challenge to mold my modern day take on relationships to the customs and standards of a long vanished world. My latent art historical love is tickled at the prospects of what may be to come.
Fear not, however. I am hardly abandoning the m/m romance genre. As I announced in yesterday’s blog, I have just signed on to do a Christmas novel with Ravenous Romance. I plan on continuing in both lines for as long as the publishing gods allow.
I do hope you will follow me to this new step in my career; in fact, I am counting on it. Your support and your loyalty to my 13 (so far) novels I feel was a major part in my being offered a contract. My fan base is superb. With all my heart, I thank you for that.
And even if historical romance is not your “thing,” I hope you will send any wandering historical romance junkies my way.
To Steal the Sunrise, a novella set in ancient Sumer, should be released before the end of the year. I will, of course, keep you updated. Expect preview blogging for both the novella and Miracle on Lombard Street in the coming weeks.
The key now slips into the lock. I turn it and with a smile I walk away from Hellesgate.
Until next time…
Chloe Stowe
Chapter Nine: A Single Word Upon His Lips
““Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain,” his mind pleaded with him. But what has been seen cannot be unseen.” (page 119)
September 21, 2012
"The Religion of Mall Santas": Day Four of Hellesgate's Long Goodbye
Chapter Six: The Religion of Mall Santas
“He toed the tile with his shoe. In slow, deliberate swipes he searched the floor for cracks, for hairline fractures slick with the remains of his last coherent thoughts.” (page 97)
The day after.
Wow.
I want to thank you all for making A Torch Kept’s release day a success! It was awesome. Thank you!
Whew.
Still got my mind.
That’s always a plus on the day after. Have you ever woke up with nothing but an echo of the alarm clock clanking around between your ears?
Yeah, not pleasant.
Especially when you don’t own an alarm clock.
*hums a little “Santa Claus is Coming to Town”*
On a day when the blog is entitled “The Religion of Mall Santas,” I thought it would be the perfect time to announce that my 14th novel for Ravenous Romance will be… a Christmas story!
Yes, Chloe does the guy in the big red suit… well, uh, you know what I mean.
*sighs*
Great. That’s one big check on the “naughty” side of the tote-board for me. I really don’t need any help on that side of things. My naughtiness is all fleshed out, thank you very much. Hello. Smut writer here.
*grins*
As it’s becoming readily apparent that I am still hung-over from yesterday’s festivities and delusional breaks, I’m going to end all our suffering by ending this blog a little early today.
For your patience, however, I will leave you with a small parting gift…
The title of my 14th novel will be Miracle on Lombard Street. Yep, I’m hitting the streets of Frisco with this one, babe. All new characters, all new storyline! What a merry rush it will be! The deadline for the manuscript is November 25, so expect a mid-December release, my friends.
Until tomorrow (when another HUGE announcement will be made), I wish you all a little early “Fa-la-la-la-la!”
Chloe
Chapter Seven: When All is Well
“Her footsteps were small, fragile against the hard hospital floors. There was no sense of certainty about her movements. From the way she held her elbows tight against her sides, to the hesitant downward tilt of her chin, (the woman) slipped through the long, solemn corridors with the presence of a banished wraith.” (page 105)
“He toed the tile with his shoe. In slow, deliberate swipes he searched the floor for cracks, for hairline fractures slick with the remains of his last coherent thoughts.” (page 97)
The day after.
Wow.
I want to thank you all for making A Torch Kept’s release day a success! It was awesome. Thank you!
Whew.
Still got my mind.
That’s always a plus on the day after. Have you ever woke up with nothing but an echo of the alarm clock clanking around between your ears?
Yeah, not pleasant.
Especially when you don’t own an alarm clock.
*hums a little “Santa Claus is Coming to Town”*
On a day when the blog is entitled “The Religion of Mall Santas,” I thought it would be the perfect time to announce that my 14th novel for Ravenous Romance will be… a Christmas story!
Yes, Chloe does the guy in the big red suit… well, uh, you know what I mean.
*sighs*
Great. That’s one big check on the “naughty” side of the tote-board for me. I really don’t need any help on that side of things. My naughtiness is all fleshed out, thank you very much. Hello. Smut writer here.
*grins*
As it’s becoming readily apparent that I am still hung-over from yesterday’s festivities and delusional breaks, I’m going to end all our suffering by ending this blog a little early today.
For your patience, however, I will leave you with a small parting gift…
The title of my 14th novel will be Miracle on Lombard Street. Yep, I’m hitting the streets of Frisco with this one, babe. All new characters, all new storyline! What a merry rush it will be! The deadline for the manuscript is November 25, so expect a mid-December release, my friends.
Until tomorrow (when another HUGE announcement will be made), I wish you all a little early “Fa-la-la-la-la!”
Chloe
Chapter Seven: When All is Well
“Her footsteps were small, fragile against the hard hospital floors. There was no sense of certainty about her movements. From the way she held her elbows tight against her sides, to the hesitant downward tilt of her chin, (the woman) slipped through the long, solemn corridors with the presence of a banished wraith.” (page 105)
September 20, 2012
"A Woman Named Loring": Day Three of Hellesgate's Long Goodbye
Chapter Four: A Woman Named Loring
“Buried? For some reason he cringed at that word. His bad feeling about all of this was just getting worse.” (page 53)
Release Day! The foreplay has come to its end. All the soft nuzzles of lips upon nipples, all those sweet kisses on the best of those unmentionables have now disappeared. What remains between us this day is the climax.
Let the thunderous waves of pleasure come, let ecstasy rock the boat you lay upon.
Lay all of your defenses down.
Give in to the hot rush that wants to devour you.
Scream as the orgasm takes hold of your soul and shatters it. Relish the devastation, suck it dry.
And know that tonight, tomorrow, for all time to come I am here to bring you more…
*coughs innocently*
Bet you never had a “Please buy my book” quite like that, huh?
*tosses her salesman’s hat to the floor and kicks it out of sight*
Now back to the blog…
Anybody want to take my shift in my brain today? Seriously. I am bone tired of being so… weird. And I can’t even be weird in a cute and snuggly way. No, I have to be weird in the “Jeez, I hope it’s not catching” way.
Take yesterday as an example.
I spent most of the morning and all the early afternoon literally revving myself up to go to the Fed Ex place (a place I’m very unfamiliar with). There was a very important contract I needed to mail to a new publishing house (details to follow in the next days). Well, by the time I got up the nerve to actually go I had wasted the majority of the day worrying about it. Yeah, dumb, I know. Believe me, I know.
Did I go to the Fed Ex place? Yes. Did I get it mailed? No. After a “comedy” of nervous errors, I was told (while holding on to 2 completed forms and a big envelope I had just bought) that they couldn’t mail the contract to a PO Box.
Yeah, I know this kind of stuff happens all the time to everybody. Fortunately though, for everybody’s sanity, everybody isn’t operating with my brain set.
So, I dragged my pitiful self back home, curled up on the couch and called my Mommy. September 19th was officially shot to h-e-double hockey sticks and I’d gotten zero accomplished… except, of course, for the knotted up stomach and the exhaustion-laced nausea.
Yep, sometimes I wish with all my soul that somebody else was Chloe Stowe and I was a woman named Loring.
Until tomorrow and the afterglow…
Chloe Stowe
www.ravenousromance.com
P.S. *nudge, nudge* “A Woman Named Loring” is one of the title chapters of the day. Got it? Good. Even I get lost sometimes following my line of thinking.
Chapter Five: Home Away from Home
“His eyes popped open and a world of harsh, electric light swallowed him. Trapped in an ice cold fire he couldn’t understand, Cane began to struggle.” (page 65)
“Buried? For some reason he cringed at that word. His bad feeling about all of this was just getting worse.” (page 53)
Release Day! The foreplay has come to its end. All the soft nuzzles of lips upon nipples, all those sweet kisses on the best of those unmentionables have now disappeared. What remains between us this day is the climax.
Let the thunderous waves of pleasure come, let ecstasy rock the boat you lay upon.
Lay all of your defenses down.
Give in to the hot rush that wants to devour you.
Scream as the orgasm takes hold of your soul and shatters it. Relish the devastation, suck it dry.
And know that tonight, tomorrow, for all time to come I am here to bring you more…
*coughs innocently*
Bet you never had a “Please buy my book” quite like that, huh?
*tosses her salesman’s hat to the floor and kicks it out of sight*
Now back to the blog…
Anybody want to take my shift in my brain today? Seriously. I am bone tired of being so… weird. And I can’t even be weird in a cute and snuggly way. No, I have to be weird in the “Jeez, I hope it’s not catching” way.
Take yesterday as an example.
I spent most of the morning and all the early afternoon literally revving myself up to go to the Fed Ex place (a place I’m very unfamiliar with). There was a very important contract I needed to mail to a new publishing house (details to follow in the next days). Well, by the time I got up the nerve to actually go I had wasted the majority of the day worrying about it. Yeah, dumb, I know. Believe me, I know.
Did I go to the Fed Ex place? Yes. Did I get it mailed? No. After a “comedy” of nervous errors, I was told (while holding on to 2 completed forms and a big envelope I had just bought) that they couldn’t mail the contract to a PO Box.
Yeah, I know this kind of stuff happens all the time to everybody. Fortunately though, for everybody’s sanity, everybody isn’t operating with my brain set.
So, I dragged my pitiful self back home, curled up on the couch and called my Mommy. September 19th was officially shot to h-e-double hockey sticks and I’d gotten zero accomplished… except, of course, for the knotted up stomach and the exhaustion-laced nausea.
Yep, sometimes I wish with all my soul that somebody else was Chloe Stowe and I was a woman named Loring.
Until tomorrow and the afterglow…
Chloe Stowe
www.ravenousromance.com
P.S. *nudge, nudge* “A Woman Named Loring” is one of the title chapters of the day. Got it? Good. Even I get lost sometimes following my line of thinking.
Chapter Five: Home Away from Home
“His eyes popped open and a world of harsh, electric light swallowed him. Trapped in an ice cold fire he couldn’t understand, Cane began to struggle.” (page 65)
The Words and Madness of Chloe Stowe
The daily blog of a published Romance author, Cozy Mystery rookie... and certified crazy woman.
Well into its 6th year, this blog chronicles the daily triumphs and struggles of a chronic panic / anxie ...more
Well into its 6th year, this blog chronicles the daily triumphs and struggles of a chronic panic / anxie ...more
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