Karilyn Bentley's Blog, page 31

Kisses, Laughter & Love -- Three Zany Stories of Love

The last weekend has been kind of crazy after spending time at a lovely readers event in Atlanta,
Georgia where I met so many new readers. So today, I thought I would share with you my latest Boxed set. Right now it's on sale for .99 cents, but that could change at any moment. The price will be $5.99 as soon as Amazon updates their files. 

This boxed set includes three of my contemporary stories, The Wanted Bride (my favorite), My Sister's Boyfriend and The Reluctant Santa. Here is the blurbs on all three books.

My Sister’s Boyfriend The trouble with identical twins…He's back. The one guy she never wanted to see again. Her high school indiscretion, Brent Moulton, has returned to Tyler, Texas. Only Jennifer Riley knows the truth about that night so long ago when she switched places with her twin sister, Julie, and gave her virginity along with her heart, to her sister's boyfriend in the backseat of his father's Mustang.
…they look alike.Fifteen years later, life has thrown them back together. Will Brent realize he slept with the wrong twin? Will he overcome his commitment issues and realize that Jennifer just might be the right twin for him.
The Wanted BrideSometimes in order to find yourself, you must become someone else!She’s a Runaway BrideValerie Burrows is running from a wedding, her attorney fiancé and the law.  Pampered Valerie takes a bus to nowheresville, where she learns her cash and credit cards have been stolen. Left with only her designer clothes and luggage she takes on a new identity and must learn to be self-reliant. She swears off men, especially attorneys, only to find the one man who refuses a one night stand and wants a relationship.
He’s Looking For A WifeMatt Jordan, the Colorado Crusher, is the most successful liability lawyer in the state. After the death of his brother-in-law, he realizes he’s ready to settle down with a family of his own. His only requirements are intelligent, great-looking, wants more than a hook-up and doesn’t lie. After witnessing the lies his father told his mother, he demands complete honesty.  Yet Valerie Brown shows him sometimes in order to find yourself, you must become someone else. Even if that means lying.
The Reluctant Santa Scrooge Colin McDermott Has One Last Chance To Get Christmas Right Colin McDermott hates Christmas, doesn’t like children and is focused on making his first million. But two angels are fighting for his soul and to teach him about the importance of love and family. This is his last chance to learn the true meaning of Christmas. Watch as Colin receives everything he never wanted for Christmas.

Celebrating the release of AFTER THE SCANDAL

Welcome and Huzzah! Today I am celebrating the release of AFTER THE SCANDAL my 5th Reckless Bride novel. This novel is particularly dear to my heart, because it was the first novel I worked on in concert with the Plotting Princesses.
This wonderful group of authors got together to do what our title suggests: plot. This is a HUGE help to me, as I tend not to plot at all, but let my stories evolve as I go along, following where the characters lead me. While this is often lovely, and leads to wonderful surprises for both the reader and me, it is unfortunately dreadfully SLOW.
Enter the Plotting Princesses. I brought them my opening (already written) and gave them my inciting incident, and within a few moments they had given me so many wonderful ideas, and the biggest plot point—my hero and heroine needed to find a body. 
And off I went. While there are elements of a murder mystery to AFTER THE SCANDAL, I want to assure readers this is a love story first and foremost. A very fulfilling love story. :)
But you can judge for yourself. Here’s an exclusive excerpt of the opening:
Richmond upon ThamesAugust 1815
Tanner Evans, ninth Duke of Fenmore, should have known he would never truly be satisfied with a bride he hadn’t stolen fair and square. Despite years and years of careful training in the arcane arts of being a Duke of Fenmore, the more honest and useful art of larceny still ran red and ruddy within his veins.  When the opportunity to make the inestimable Lady Claire Jellicoe his very own dropped into his hand like a pilfered purse full of shining, golden guineas, he palmed it deep into the hidden pocket next to his heart, and held fast. He stole her from the garden of his grandmother’s magnificent, ancient manor house in Richmond, during a ball, on a moonlit summer night so sweet and warm and comfortable, it never should have needed anything approaching larcenous stealth or guile. But even on such a soft evening, and even after all the years and years of training in the polite proprieties, stealth and guile came to him quite naturally. Like old friends out of the silent night.  Old friends he could trust. This fortuitous piece of larceny came to his attention directly after the fourth couple of dances. Tanner had been standing along the north wall of the cavernous old greatroom—it was one of the sacrifices he made to preserve the honor of the dukedom, this standing about against walls, just to be seen—when he saw her.  He saw everything, every ferocious little detail that others either didn’t notice, or didn’t want to see. All the things they did not want him to see—their nervous glances and telling looks, their nasty bad habits and impulsive, informing foibles. He saw them think, just as clearly and easily as if he were reading a broadsheet.  He saw the shift of their eyes and the clutch of their hands when they intended to cheat at cards. He saw their backhanded smiles and snide pleasure when they made plans to cuckold their friends. He saw them stuff silver salvers into their reticules, and stand idly by while innocent servants were given the sack. He saw them laugh and cry and flatter and flirt and lie and cheat and steal.  He saw it all. But he had never seen Lady Claire Jellicoe do any of those things, not once, though he had watched her for years, in ballroom after ballroom, from London to Leicestershire. He was helpless not to—an informing foible he should have long overcome, but had not. He could not. She was as tiny and staggeringly beautiful as the fragile orchid blooms that filled his grandmother’s conservatory, and just as full of wondrous, vibrant life. She was always smiling, always laughing and chatting, and serenely happy, glowing with luminous vitality—a rare white orchid he fervently admired, but could never touch. But others did touch. Others danced and twirled and took her hand—the young lordlings who were meant to be his peers, the men who were as different from Tanner as sharp chalk was from soft cheese. Because no matter how hard he tried, or how carefully he had trained himself to become the ninth Duke of Fenmore, Tanner Evans knew he could never wash himself clean of the sulfurous stink of his years on the streets. And so he had given up trying, and settled for being different, for retreating into the fortress of his mind, and preserving his still savage pride behind a wall of eccentric silence.  His sister had laughed at the change in him. Never shut up when you were a boy, Meggs had teased.  But he had learned to hold his tongue now, and refrained from talking, though he watched them still. He watched her still—his lovely, luminous orchid of a girl. Because watching her gave him a pleasure so incomprehensible and inexplicable and vast, it was beyond his understanding. And beyond his power to stop. So when Lady Claire Jellicoe turned her wide, sparkling blue eyes upon her dance partner, and smiled that smile that absolutely slayed Tanner—the smile that was warm and open and entirely without guile—the spurt of some small pain that would be very much like jealousy, if he allowed it to be, made him follow the line of her gaze to her partner. Lord Peter Rosing. God’s balls. God’s bloody, bleeding balls. Beneath his spotless gloves, Tanner’s palms went damp and itchy, and his back propelled itself off the wall. Not Rosing. Anybody but Rosing. Tanner controlled himself enough to stop his face from contorting into a sneer, and immediately scanned the crowd. He tried to place Lady Claire’s parents, the Earl and Countess Sanderson, where he had seen them last, chatting with his grandmother near one of the greatroom’s arching doorways. Or her oldest brother, James, Viscount Jeffrey. One of them had to be near enough to act. One of them had to see and know and understand just how vile Rosing truly was beneath his charming veneer. One of them had to stop him. One of them had to save her. Because Rosing was as slick and plausible and cunning as he was opportunistic. And he was nothing if not opportunistic, the amoral bastard. Rosing took Lady Claire Jellicoe’s elbow in his filthy grip, and escorted her out the tall, open doors at the foot of the room so smoothly and quickly, no one seemed to notice they were gone. No one but Tanner. Tanner knew that out in the shadowed dark, where the garden plummeted into the river, Lady Claire would soon stop smiling her open, honest, guileless smile. Because people were terrible, awful, cruel creatures of habit. And Rosing was the most terrible, habitually cruel creature of them all. Rosing indulged himself with lethal impunity. The walls of the greatroom tilted inward—the room narrowed to the spot where she had been. Tanner was already moving, preparing to employ lethal habits of his own—his old friends stealth and guile. Stealth and guile, and single-minded devotion. Because he was devoted to Lady Claire Jellicoe, this exquisite orchid of a young woman he had never met, never danced with, never so much as spoken one single word to in all his years of propping up ballroom walls.  He had never dared.  Tanner Evans, ninth Duke of Fenmore, was madly, deeply, irrationally, and altogether secretly in love.


What do you think? I’m giving away two print copies of AFTER THE SCANDAL (North America only please). Leave a comment to be entered! Cheers and happy reading! EE 
If you have to have it now, you can buy AFTER THE SCANDAL at Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/After-Scandal-Reckless-Brides-Elizabeth/dp/125004457X/ref=tmm_mmp_title_0 , or at Barnes & Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/after-the-scandal-elizabeth-essex/1115783446?ean=9781466843035

It's launch party time!My latest release, C...

    It's launch party time!
My latest release, Connor's Gamble, is available NOW!.  I'm shouting it from the rooftops, street corners, alleyways, and everywhere else. I'm so excited that this book is finally available!
And I'm having a launch party for all my friends on Facebook this Friday, March 28, 2014 from 6 p.m. to 10 p.m.  Lots of my author friends are showing up and there will be lots of prizes being given away through the part (meaning lots and lots of books and other goodies). 

YOU ARE INVITED!  Just go to the Facebook page for Connor's Gamble (Join the party!) and click the join button.  Then just come back on Friday night and we'll have a great time. 
The grand prize at the end of the party will be chosen from among the people who leave a review of the book at Amazon.  So, grab your copy and post a review.  You could be the winner.  Less than 20 total reviews the prize will be a $50.00 Amazon gift card.  More than 20 and I'll give away a Kindle.  So the more reviews, the better the prize. 
Except: Thursday
    A pool of matted dark red blood spread out in a macabre halo beneath the gray hair of Mrs. Abigail Spencer. For one brief moment, Connor gave thanks he hadn't eaten breakfast yet. It wouldn't do to spew chunks all over the poor old woman.
    He whirled around at Alyssa's sharp intake of breath right behind him. Damn it, he'd told her to wait outside. Then again, why was he surprised she hadn't listened? The whole time they'd been married, she'd never listened to anything he'd said then, either.
    "Connor? Is she . . .?"
    "Dead?" Connor knelt beside the old lady, careful not to touch anything. Reaching forward, he pressed his fingertips against the side of her neck, checking for any indication of life. He felt nothing. No pulse. No rise and fall of her chest. "Looks that way."
Amazon buy link:  click here

Vicki Batman ~ Cover Reveal!!! Temporarily Employed

A long journey for my baby is paying off and I'm delighted to share with you!    Here's a little blurb to whet your appetite:  
Hattie Cook's dream job is down the toilet and her new SUV violated. Desperate for cash to cover the basic necessities of rent and food, she takes a temporary job at Buy Rite insurance company where she uncovers an embezzling scam tied to the death of a former employee--the very one she replaced. The last thing she wants is to clash with By-the-Book Detective Wellborn, no matter how much he makes her heart pound.

Allan Charles Wellborn has secretly adored Hattie all his life.  He evolved from a pocket protector-wearing geek to a handsome police detective.  When the police determine there's more to the death of a former Buy Rite employee, he steps in to lead the investigation.  Overly dedicated, always perfect, he puts his job first, even if doing so ultimately hurts the one he loves.

Can the killer be found before Hattie's time is up?  Can you tell I'm happy? and to celebrate, I'm giving away an adorable flowery tote! Leave your email address in the comments.  For more information, check my blogsite: http://vickibatman.blogspot.com   

Michelle Miles: New Release - A Knight Like No Other + Giveaway!

I’m really thrilled to have this book out into the world. This is the fourth book in the REALM OF HONOR fantasy romance series. But by no means do you have to read them all in order to get the story. ;)

I knew I had to write this book and give these two characters a happy ending. The bonus part, for me, was that I ended up giving another pair of characters a happy ending. Double your pleasure! But the central romance for this book features Sir Drake and the Elven princess, Sobriel. Their romance is forbidden in the Otherworld because he’s human. But when the princess’s life is threated by evil, Sir Drake will do whatever it takes to save her.

Below is the blurb and an excerpt. Plus TODAY I’m gifting ONE lucky commenter with an eBook copy. So leave a comment and tell me this: If you could visit any place in the world, where would you go?

Where to buy:
Amazon | BN | Kobo

Will the knight of her heart be able to save her from evil’s plan?

By the king’s order, Princess Sobriel is betrothed to Lord-Regent Marath, an Elven noble with an evil agenda who’s manipulated his way into royal favor. Marrying him will be a fate worse than death, especially when Sobriel yearns for the sexy and irresistible Sir Drake—the knight who holds her heart. A knight she is forbidden to love. She flees her family to be with Drake, giving up everything she knows for him.

Enraged at her defiance, Marath summons a mage to kidnap and kill Sobriel. Drake, determined to protect the woman he loves, will stop at nothing to see her safe. Their desire for one another burns hot and nothing can keep the two lovers apart. Nothing but Marath’s evil plan to do away with the Fae and separate Drake and Sobriel forever.

EXCERPT:
Drake joined the Elven royals for the evening feast, as he said he would. The king gave him less than a warm reception. He was quite cold. But Drake didn’t care. All that mattered was getting a moment with Sobriel.

The king, however, must have guessed Drake would try anything to get the girl alone. He kept her by his side all evening, never letting her out of his sight. All the two could do was exchange a glance every now and then. And even that was scrutinized by the king.

When dessert was served Sobriel feigned a headache and excused herself from her father’s presence. She gave Drake one last passing glance before she disappeared out of the great hall.

After she’d been long gone Eldrin leaned toward him and pushed a small piece of parchment in his hand. The ranger said nothing. Merely gave him a nod as he rose from the table and left the feast.

With his hands hidden under the table, Drake unfolded the small parchment. Written in a careful script were directions to meet Lord Eldrin in the grove by the loch at full moonrise. He said nothing of meeting the princess. But he hoped the ranger had made good on his promise to bring her to him.

Drake waited until the musicians started playing and dancers took the floor. With the king and crown prince distracted, Drake slipped out of the great hall and found his way to the long, winding staircase that led to the ground.

At the foot of the staircase, he paused and wondered which way to the grove with the loch. A fire pixy flittered in the darkness toward him, then buzzed around his face and circled his head. He could barely make out the little pixy’s features. She had a delicate face and beckoned him after her, waiting for him to follow.

He pursued the streaming little light, heedless of his surroundings. He didn’t want to lose sight of her as he stumbled along. When the glittering loch came into view, the fire pixy disappeared. He halted, looking out at the peaceful water with the moonlight reflecting upon the surface.

A moment later the princess stepped out from behind an overgrown rosebush. Her hair was like a halo in the silvery light. Delicate shadows played upon her beautiful face. He could see the outline of her rose-red lips, the slant of her high cheekbones, the curve of her perfect, pert nose.

She smiled sweetly, fluttered her lashes down, and dipped a quick curtsey in greeting.

The small gesture sent his heart into a tailspin. His body reacted as a vaguely sensual light passed between them. And he knew he had to feel her in his arms. He hurried toward her. The smile never left her lips.

“Sir Drake, I—”

But that was as far as she got when he took her in his arms, pulling her close, feeling her small body curve against his. Enough waiting. He’d waited long enough to hold her. To feel her. To taste her. Her breath caught in her throat as his head dipped toward hers. And before their lips met, her breath shuddered out.

He paused, inhaling her sweet nectar scent. It was sultry and heady and nearly made him lose his mind. He could stand it no longer. His mouth closed over her lips, at long last sampling her taste. His tongue delved deep into the sweet recesses of her mouth. She tasted like honeysuckle wine on a warm summer night. She tasted like heaven. She tasted like forever.

To his delight, she kissed him back. Her arms slid around his neck as she pressed closer. So close he could feel every curve of her little body against him. Her small, round breasts. Her narrow waist. The curve of her hips.

Her tongue bumped against his as they savored each other, branding their first kiss in his mind. She kissed as though she’d always known how. As though she had been born to kiss him and no other. He was reluctant to break apart from her but wanted to see her face and memorize it. He wanted to store it away so he may recall it anytime he wished. Because he knew tonight would be the final night they would have together.

As he pulled away, he could see the color high in her cheeks and the pink in the tips of her pointed ears. Her lips were still damp from his onslaught and to make matters worse, she ran her tongue over them. As though remembering the last remnants of his mouth on hers. Her pulse fluttered wildly in the long column of her pale throat. She labored to breathe, as though she couldn’t catch her breath.

“Forgive me,” he said. “I should not have taken such liberties.” He kissed her forehead and a little mewl escaped her. It nearly sent him over the edge.

Control, though. He must control his reaction. When all he wanted to truly do was tear the gown from her sweet body and make love to her until the dawn. Here on the edge of the loch amid the soft grass. Yet that would not be appropriate. He was a knight. He had honor and dignity. And he would not ruin her reputation with one selfish act. An act he could never take back. She was pure, untouched bliss. He would not destroy that. Yet he couldn’t stop kissing her.

The Plotting Princesses are enjoying tea and a chat with author Marilyn Baxter

Sometimes, friendships are formed in fun circumstances. PP gal Vicki met Marilyn online via the True yahoo group and got to know her better when she took Marilyn's writing short fiction class. Let's get to know Marilyn too!

Hi, Marilyn! How did you get from your day job to writing romance?  I went from writing without a day job to writing with one after a divorce several years ago.  In 2001 I discovered romance novels, and earlier than that I had dabbled in non-fiction writing.  After a few years of reading romance, the writing bug hit again, and I knew I wanted to write about happily ever after.  Between that decision and the sale of TEA FOR TWO, I also wrote for the confessions and romance magazines.  Most of my stories had some romance in them even while the heroine was overcoming whatever seemingly insurmountable problem I had saddled her with.

What are your three favorite books of all time?  Mr. Perfect by Linda Howard, Nobody’s Baby but Mine by Susan Elizabeth Phillips and Barefoot by the Sea by Roxanne St. Claire.

Morning, afternoon, or evening person?  Evening!  And thank goodness the day job doesn’t start until 1:00 p.m.

Music--with or without? What kind?  With, but only instrumental.  Otherwise I end up singing rather than writing.  I have a set of CDs by SonicAid, one of which is Music to Promote Creativity.  It’s on my laptop, my iPod and my phone so I have it everywhere.  You can even listen to it on YouTube.

First or third POV?  Both.  I write in first person for the confessions/romance magazines and third for my contemporary romances.

How's tricks? Do you juggle multiple projects?  Not if I can help it!

What's harder: beginning, middle, or the end?  All of the above?  <grin>  The beginning is usually the most difficult.  It I can get the hero and heroine together at the right spot in the story, I’m usually okay.

Revisions: Love 'em or hate 'em?  I’ve only been through one set (with TEA FOR TWO) and they were very light.  I have a novella whose revisions are due next month.  Ask me this question again about April 30th.    ;-)

How did you come up with that title?  Best advice anybody every gave you?  My favorite title is for a book still under consideration by my editor.  DIRECT DEPOSIT is about a woman who wants to make a withdrawal from a sperm bank and a man who would rather make a direct deposit.  I got the story idea from an article about online sperm banks. 

The best advice?  Just write!

What's your favorite dessert? Peach cobbler!  That’s an easy answer.

Do you write at home or someplace else?  Both.  If I’m not at home, I’ll usually be at a coffee shop or book store.  Those seem to have good mojo for writing.  Or maybe it’s just the caffeine.

What's your favorite type of hero/heroine and why?  My favorite hero is the wounded hero who realizes this woman who drives him nuts is actually the one who can make him whole again.


Find Tea for Two at:
Amazon
Barnes and Noble
Boroughs Books
Website
Facebook
Twitter

EXCERPT:

Sam nudged Mollie’s arm with his elbow as they strolled down the sidewalk after dinner. “You know my grandmother is going to have a field day with this. Us going out to dinner again. You’re all she’s talked about for the past few days. Now I’m really suspicious she sent me to your shop to try and set us up.”

“Oh, I know she did. I figured it out that afternoon when she invited me to tea and made a point to tell me you were single. And my granny was in cahoots with her.”

“I emphasized I was not her latest matchmaking project. Apparently she wasn’t listening.” As they approached his car, Sam pulled his keys from his pocket and thumbed the fob to unlock it. “I should be mad. Somehow, though, I can’t muster up a lot of anger since we have this great business arrangement now. I can’t believe I already have clients.”

Mollie’s heart sank. This was all about him and his business? He hadn’t really asked her out on a date, had he? She was angry, and right now her anger wasn’t directed at her grandmother or Sam’s.

She was furious with herself for letting down her guard. For believing there might be something more than a professional relationship between them, even though she’d pretended not to want it. How many times had she seen the words Listen to your gut in the multitude of self-help books she’d read in the wake of her split from Philip?

Thank you, Marilyn, for visiting the PP today!

#FREE on Kindle: Dragon Lover by Karilyn Bentley

 Yep! You read that correctly! Dragon Lover, the third book in the Draconia Tales trilogy, is FREE today through Saturday, 3/15, on Kindle. This book ends the trilogy and wraps up the overarching villain. Not literally, but close. <g> I'm excited it's out and really excited about the cover. Isn't it gorgeous? Here's a blurb and excerpt to tempt you to stop by Amazon and pick up your FREE copy. And while you're there, check out Magical Lover and Warrior Lover, the first two books of the series.

Happy Reading!

Blurb:
     Predicted from birth to be mates, Aryana and Fafnir spent their youth running from each other and pursuing their own dreams. Aryana sought power and magic, while Fafnir escaped to explore other lands and to find a love not dictated by cryptic prophecy.
     But after Fafnir is captured and magically locked in his dragon form, he returns to Draconia. Ashamed and broken, he hides his true identity from everyone, hoping Aryana will find a spell that will return him to his human self.
     The last thing Aryana needs or wants is to find out her mate still lives-for a mated female cannot be a priestess, let alone the High Priestess. Yet his dragon's presence brings out her true abilities. When opposing dreams collide, will love be the victor?

Excerpt:
     Fafnir felt one eye-ridge rise. Did she think to rummage around in his mind, to extract the memory of her presence? He’d like to see her try.
     But he’d rather speak a promise. What did I see?
     A small brush against his mind, so slight as to be almost imperceptible. Almost. He slammed mental barriers in place, watching her brow furrow as she tried to remove his memory of her. She probably could get away with reading others’ minds, but not his.
     “You saw me standing here.” The High Priestess’s voice jarred him back into the moment.
     That’s not all I saw.
     “Yes, it is. Now, are you going to give me that ride back to the Temple or not?”
     Having problems transporting?
     “I’m still here, aren’t I?”
     Fafnir chuckled. A ride then. He knelt, offering her his back.
     Her hand touched his shoulder as some of her bristle relaxed. “Thank you.” She climbed to his back and sat, her weight a pleasant feeling against his scales.
     He straightened, standing a bit taller, knowing she sat on his back, knowing she trusted him. Him. The Draconi liar, the male too afraid of his own guilt to admit his identity. But she didn’t know that, did she? No, she felt pity toward him, pity for his years of captivity, his inability to change into human form, but no outright disgust. As annoying as pity might be, he could live with it. Her disgust, though, would shatter his heart into shards of shame.
     Bloody effing sap.

www.karilynbentley.com
Dragon Lover
Magical Lover
Warrior Lover
After the Moon Rises

Gearing Up For A Blog Tour---Or Not!!

In a few months JAILHOUSE GLOCK releases. You would think that since I’ve known this for –well, forever—that I would be better organized with the promo that I’ll have to do. In the past when I've had a book release, I would already have a six week schedule of marketing set up as well as a blog tour, several signings, and lots of contests and Facebook announcements. I remember being exhausted by the time I was finished, and I vowed never to do that again.
Apparently, publishing books is like childbirth—you forget how bad it really was until you’re smack in the middle of it again. I was all geared up to send out pleas for friends to have me on their blogs when I realized I have not budgeted much time for that. I just signed another two book deal and have a June deadline for the first book of that contract.
Plus, I am going to Malice Domestic in Bethesda the first week in May, to Marco Island for a week with my Bunko buddies the third week, and on a 7-day cruise with my family in June. There is no way I could fit in a grueling blog tour like I did way back when.
Then I read an interesting blog. Although it’s about the top self published authors who earn the most money, I found one very interesting point among the ten points listed that I swear was a gift from heaven to me. (Thank you, St. Jude.)
The Top Earners group spent more time writing than they did marketing, and those in the group who spent the least time marketing were making the most money. Out of all respondents, those who spent the most time marketing earned the least . 
Are you kidding me? Go back and read it again. And again if you’re like me and have a hard time believing it. Is the guy really saying that if I spend more time writing and less time with blog tours, signing, etc, I will  be more successful?
Damn! I think that’s exactly what he’s saying. And you know what? The more I think about it, the more I realize he’s right. What good does it do for you to hook a reader with a cutesy blog or a FaceBook blitz or even your fantastic writing style if there isn’t another book for him/her to read afterwards. Let’s face it, in this day and age of self publishing there are a lot of choices out there for readers. Are they going to remember your name nine months later, or however  long it takes to get another book out there? Maybe—maybe not, but for now, I’m going to give it a try.
I have committed to writing 2 books and a novella this year, and we're already past the first trimester!!  Cozy readers would love a book every month from the authors—that’s how crazy they are about the fast, entertaining genre. I need to quit worrying so much about how my books will sell and just write new ones to go with the ones out there. As a reader myself, if I find an author whose voice I love, I immediately look to see what else they have that I can read.
So, don't look for me to be all over the blog nation in May. I have already agreed to several blogs where I know I get the most exposure. Of course, the Plotting Princess one is at the top of my list. After that I am going to put my butt in the chair and write. For my last release I established a street team of readers who liked my stuff and had a FB release party for them only with lots of giveaways. Did this help sales? All I know is that I am still in the Amazon rankings with that book. Who knows if I would have been there anyway.
I’m curious what you all think about this. I know some people think that blog tours are still very effective. How important do you think it is for an author to devote so much time to marketing nowadays? And do you think it might be different for a debut than a multi-pubbed? 

Liz writes G rated cozies as Liz Lipperman and grittier mysteries and romantic thrillers as Lizbeth Lipperman. Check out her website to find out more about her. 

Mardi Gras or Laissez Les Bons Temps Rouler

Happy Fat Tuesday or Shrove Tuesday! The reason today is called Fat Tuesday is because it’s the last night of eating rich, fatty foods. Today in many cities across the world people are celebrating, dancing, drinking, wearing masks, costumes and many throwing their inhibitions out the window at least until midnight. At midnight, it all comes to an end, and the Lenten season of prayer and fasting begins.
This day is celebrated in many countries, including, Belgium, Brazi, Germany, Italy, Netherlands, Sweden and the United States. So why doesn’t every city in America celebrate Mardi Gras? The tradition is a French Catholic tradition and was brought to the United States in the late 17thcentury by Pierre Le Moyne de’Iberville. There is even a point called Point du Mardi Gras where on March 3, 1699 they landed and claimed the land for the French. Of course that point is closer to Mobile Alabama than New Orleans. Later the capital was moved to New Orleans.
In Belgium, at the Carnival of Binche, around 1,000 Gilles dance from morning until past dusk. In Brazil, Carnival is not only their hottest tourism time, but the day is observed across the country. There are massive parades and in Rio de Janeiro, over two million people will be celebrating today. In Germany, it’s called Karneval, Fastnacht or Fasching. That translates to “Eve of the Fast.” Italy calls Mardi Gras Martedi Grasso and they also celebrate Fat Thursday, Giovedi Grasso, the week before. The Netherlands call Mardi Gras, Carnaval and is mainly held in southern Netherland. In Sweden, it’s called Fastan and you eat Fastlagsbullel. Literally you are eating Fat.  
While researching this article, there was an exchange I found from a person who lived in New Orleans and said that the news has made the event seem so sordid with women showing their breasts. He admitted that goes on down on Bourbon Street, but said there are a lot of the parades that you can take your children to. He says that’s only a tenth of the actual celebration and that it’s an enjoyable celebration for families and friends.  I’ve always wanted to go to New Orleans during Mardi Gras, but the crowds and the drinking have kept me at home. Maybe someday. If you celebrate Mardi Gras, have a wonderful time, be careful, and I hope you receive a lot of beads without having to show your breasts. Tomorrow I’ll see you in church.The first person to leave a comment and tell me what “Laissez les bons temps rouler” means wins a free book. Contest ends at midnight. Check our Wronged, a Historical Romance set in New Orleans by Sylvia. Currently, it's free.
 Information and pictures from Wikipedia.  
 

Bunnies and Plot Trails - By Kathy Ivan

I'm sorry.  Today's my day to blog and I totally spaced on the date.  So, since I didn't have anything ready, I've pulled an older blog post that I did for another blog and I'm going to post it here today.  It still applies to the way I think, so I hope you'll get something out of  it.

BUNNIES, BUNNIES EVERYWHERE . . .
When I set out to write this blog, I stood at my back patio doors looking outside at my yard.  Within moments I noticed movement under the bushes along the fence line.  In our neighborhood, even though I live in a large city, we still tend to get several different "critters".  Some I don't mind seeing in the yard, some I mind quite a bit.  This morning, though, was one of the happier sightings.  Coming out of the bushes was a cute little brown and white bunny.  There have been several wild rabbits spotted on our street, so the sight of this one wasn't a big surprise.  Seeing a second bunny come hopping out behind the first, though, that was a bit more unusual.  So standing there with my first cup of coffee in hand, I eased the curtain aside and watched. 


The bunnies played in the grass, running and hopping.  It looked almost like a dance, a fun game, with one racing toward the other and right as he/she would reach the other rabbit, it would hop straight up in the air and land only to race in the other direction.  They did this over and over.  Then I caught movement out of the corner of my eye.  From under the same bushes as before, another lone figure slowly emerged from the underbrush.  Easing forward, slowly, body crouched low to the ground, one step at a time, it paused to look around before focusing on the two young bunnies at play.  Slowly it inched forward, step by step drawing closer.  The two at play never notice the possibility of danger creeping slowly up behind them.  They were having so much fun running along to and fro, hopping up only to run again.  They ran through a small hole in the fence, only to race back in seconds later. 
With a burst of speed, the third body sprang forward tackling one of the playful rabbits, barreling into it full force.  A third bunny had gotten into the yard and wanted to join in the fun.  They raced across the patio, oblivious to any sense of danger around.  I watched these three bunnies play for a few minutes thinking about how what they were doing was similar to how we write. 
We start a story with the two main characters, the hero and villain.   As writers we could take then on a straight path from point A to their goal, the villain is foiled, and everybody lives happily ever after.  End of story.  But where's the fun in that, not just for the writer but for the reader?  Instead, like the bunnies, we have them do their dance, running toward each other only to veer away (or hop away as the case may be).  We send our characters down rabbit trails, following false clues, making them backtrack and start their dance over again.  If we're really creative, we throw in that third person to provide that element of danger, that layering of suspense.  Is this the villain?  Are they a friend?  A lover?  We can take it in any direction we want. 
Do you have your characters following bunny trails throughout your story?  Do your characters do their own special dance, a few steps forward, a hop back?   Sometimes, if we take the time to stop and watch the bunnies, following those bunny trails in our stories can be a good thing.