Tamara Larson's Blog, page 3

So what is going on with Crazy Karl?

One of the things readers typically ask me about is Crazy "White Power" Karl from Hot Property. I have one friend who puts it this way, "Nevermind all this Happily Ever After crap, what's going on with Karl?"

It's been almost two years since I wrote HP so it's flattering to know people are still interested in him. He was a bit of a departure for me and probably didn't belong in a romance novel (at least a few reviewers thought I'd lost my mind)but I love a good villain and he creeped me out so I thought maybe at least a few of you out there would enjoy a Karl update.

So I've posted a bonus chapter on my website: http://tvlarson.shawwebspace.ca/pages...

Keep in mind that this is written from his son's perspective but we can tell that Karl has definitely been upto no good.

Let me know what you think and stay tuned for a special FMV Epilogue - Coming soon.

Revisiting the ghosts of romance couples past

So, what happens after our tortured couple gets their Happily Ever After? If their story is part of a series then we sometimes get a chance to re-visit them in subsequent books and get some kind of update or snap-shot of how they’re doing. I love that. Especially with really great characters.

However, is it just me or do these couples seem vaguely lobotomized after their story has been told? They’re so happy and in love they make my teeth ache. I suppose this is what Happily Ever After means but does it have to be so nauseating? It’s like they utterly lose their personality once they become secondary characters. All their problems dissolve and the men become utterly pussy-whipped.

I read one book recently where if it wasn’t for the name, I would have assumed the former hero was a completely different character. In his own story he was an obnoxious, tortured rogue. (I write contemporary but actually read a lot of historical – hence the term “rogue” instead of douchebag). In his brother’s story he shows up briefly to stare adoringly at his new bride but otherwise contributes nothing to the story. Evidently, his balls and personality were removed the second he stopped sleeping with everyone in sight.

My response to this trend was re-visiting the hero from Open House (Kingston Bros #1) in Fair Market Value (Kingston Bros #3). In Open House, Jack was kind of a jerk. A sexy jerk, but definitely missing a sensitivity chip. If I was smart and followed the romance novel formula, he’d be a reformed jerk with a heart of gold and a brain of mush in the rest of the Kingston Bros series. But in Fair Market Value he’s actually making mistakes, continuing to act like a jerk and struggling with new issues. His relationship is sound but the drama didn’t end the second he fell in love with Lacey. The expectation seems to be that becoming a secondary character equals becoming one-dimensional and infinitely less interesting one.

Yes, I realize they can’t steal the spotlight from the new hero and heroine but can they at least have something going on in their lives besides wedding plans and family planning?

So who do you think successfully revisits characters from former books without losing the essence of their personalities? I honestly can't think of a single one.

The torture of delayed gratification!

One of the things I personally find hottest in a love scene is some teasing delayed gratification. I like it when the hero makes his lady squirm a bit.

What`s not hot is writing a book and waiting for 45 days to see if it will be published. That`s a LONG time to build some anticipation and then to have a bucket of water thrown all over you at the end? Not sexy.

Fortunately, I have the means to rectify my situation all on my lonesome, without any assistance from Kindle Scout. You guessed it, they passed on Fair Market Value, so it will be self-published later today. It should show up sometime tomorrow, so please wait until Tuesday if you want to pick it up. It'll be free for one day and I want to ensure you guys get a copy for no charge at all. You've been so incredibly patient and supportive (especially the amazing Shannon.)I regret making you wait so long when I could have done this months ago. Oh well, had to try, right?

What have I learned from this? Well, not much. I intend to keep trying to be published but not in this particular format. (Beware Entangled publishers, I'm coming for you next.)I probably won't do the Kindle Scout thing again because I think nominations should be open to everyone, not just the American audience. Also, I'm just not social media-savvy enough to draw attention to my books. Nominations determine whether they will even look at publishing and mine really didn't have much buzz. Totally my fault for not being as pro-active as I should have been but still, mucho-disappointing.

Anyway, watch for Fair Market Value on Tuesday. No more teasing. I promise!!

FINALLY! News on Fair Market Value

I know, it took forever, but Fair Market Value has been accepted into Amazon's new publishing program, Kindle Scout.

Not sure if you've heard about this yet, but essentially Amazon creates a page for the author's book where readers can decide if they want to see it published or not. If a book gets a lot of votes then Amazon will offer the writer a contract and publish it.

Fair Market Value's campaign starts on October 30, 2014. It's page can be found here:
https://kindlescout.amazon.com/p/1WJO...

Hopefully it will receive a warm reception. If you think of it, please pop in and vote for The Kingston Brothers. Those boys have been neglected much too long.

In the meantime, I am going on a cruise around the U.S. Virgin Islands. This will be my first real vacation in almost ten years, so I am going to try to focus on fun rather than how my thighs look in a bathing suit.

Happy Halloween to all of you. Hopefully I will find some inspiration in the form of a cabana boy (man?) on my cruise.


TVL

Can you judge a book by its cover?

I don’t know if you’ve noticed this, but lately romance novel covers are starting to look, well, EXACTLY THE SAME. I’m wondering if this has something to do with the influence of ebooks. I mean, really, how often do you actually look at the cover once it’s downloaded. Like almost never. Unless the guy is extremely hot. Even then. Not so much. As a result I don’t really think authors and publishers are putting much effort or originality into their covers. Just slap a random guy’s ripped torso on the front and call it good enough seems to be the attitude. The poor bastard doesn’t even need a head in many cases. Just some washboard abs and a waxed chest and we’re good to go.

I think back to all those dramatic bodice-rippers from the eighties. (Sorry, if this is before your time but I’m ancient.) They were works of art. Not only did the people depicted on the cover actually resemble the characters described in the book, the scene was usually recognizable as well. The cover actually told something about the story. I know, novel concept. Without reading a single word, you knew something about the contents. If the Hero was a pirate, you could tell by the cover. Okay, maybe a disproportionate amount of these heroes looked like Fabio but at least they changed his hair or wardrobe to reflect the situation.

For an indy author like myself, creating a cover on a budget is a grueling task. I have to scrutinize literally thousands of photographs for sale, trying to find one that reflects a scene from my book. I know, what torture, right? Ogling all those fabulous torsos…sigh. It’s a rough job, let me tell you. But after you’ve looked at a few hundred sets of rippling abs, something weird happens. They start to look pretty much the same. And it’s damn impossible to find ones that aren’t overexposed. I don’t know how many times I’ve purchased the rights to a photograph only to find that it’s been used by countless other authors. My first cover, Lost & Found, was created by one of those romance novel websites and not only is it awful, but I’ve seen that same couple in that identical cheesy pose on about a thousand other covers. Obviously, someone made a killing selling that particular photo.

Someday, I dream of being able to pick the models (especially the male one, he he) and the pose and having a professional photoshoot done to reflect a scene from my book rather than combing through countless websites looking for a shot that doesn’t directly contradict my physical descriptions.

So how important is the cover exactly? Does it influence whether you’ll buy the ebook or not? Or do you base your purchase on the description? Fifty Shades is probably one of the more successful romance novels recently and yet the cover was incredibly simple. Just a silver knotted tie on a black background. Almost non-descript. But it sold like crazy. What do you think? If the cover had been a shot of Mr. Grey’s naked torso, would it have sold more? Or less?

What makes a great romance novel hero? Part Two.

I think I may have done the unthinkable. James Kingston, the hero of my upcoming Kingston Brothers novel, is not your typical alpha male. In fact, he’s a reformed nerd who has trouble talking to women due to a stammer when he was a kid. Don’t get me wrong, he’s still big, hot, and handy with his tools but he’s definitely got some awkwardness to him that was interesting to write. Now, does the fact that he has some pretty major insecurities make him less attractive to a reader? Or more?

I confessed in Part One of this blog (see previous postings) that the male characters I enjoyed reading the most were kind of assholes (Ex: Rhett Butler, Gray Rouillard, Christian Grey, etc.) This idea was recently reinforced when I read The Neighbor from Hell series from R.L. Mathewson. (Thanks for the recommendation, by the way.) As much as I enjoyed the humour in this series, there’s really no doubt that the guys were, well, big jerks at least in the beginning of each book. (With a rather disturbing food obsession.) Once again, I was drawn to them because they were hard and arrogant on the outside, but with a soft, gooey centre that makes their assholish ways forgivable.

What I’m wondering is, how bad can the hero be before we draw the line and find his behaviour unacceptable? I’ve noticed a trend lately where the female protagonist falls for a really bad guy, we’re talking the violent criminal variety of bad guy, not reformed rakes with a heart of gold type. I recently read one where the hero was a drug dealer and another was an actual assassin for the Russian mob. (Raw, Belle Aurora & The Beast, Jaden Wilkes). Is it just me or is this too far? Some morale ambiguity is ok but genuine evil? I don’t think so.

I suppose it could be argued that all those vampire romance heroes are murderers, many times over. (Mine included.) And how about all those romance novels featuring former soldiers? We can probably safely assume that their time in the Middle East was full of the atrocities of war. But since these acts usually can be rationalized due to necessity or obligation we can see past them. Mostly because we don’t actually witness our heroes’ more reprehensible behaviour. If anything, it’s referred to in passing but isn’t typically part of the action described in the book. If anything, the suggestion of bad behaviour adds to their tortured, brooding appeal because they usually have a dark secret that will be revealed at the appropriate time. But rarely do we see them at their worst because it takes away from their appeal. For now.

Truly bad men have become very popular on television over the past decade so it’s really just a matter of time before they cross over into our genre. Think of Hugh Laurie’s character on House? What a dick that guy is but I watched every single episode, riveted. And how about Dexter? He’s a serial killer, but a sexy serial killer, so we still kind of like him despite his nasty habit of slicing people up and throwing their body parts overboard. Can we forgive anything provided our hero has a six-pack and a nice smile? (Hmmm…Could Karl from Hot Property be redeemed? Kidding. He’s never going to be a hero. I promise.
)
And what does this all have to do with James Kingston? Well, I wrote him for a reason. It seems to me that insecurity in a male protagonist is gradually becoming less acceptable. We want our romantic heroes to be super confident and smooth, with powerful jobs and effortless sexual expertise. They’re all cops and soldiers and billionaires who rarely struggle with their own self-image. Yes, this is fantasy but these characters we so lust after on paper are quickly becoming interchangeable and significantly less human and I miss the humanity. Especially considering that we are more accepting of an evil hero than one who displays any sort of weakness.

Don’t get me wrong, I still like my male leads to be confident and masculine. No mommas boys or wimps need apply. But will readers accept one who isn’t an alpha male? We’ll see later this month…

What makes a love scene go limp?

So, a few days ago I’m out on my balcony after work, reading a pretty sexy book. (Yes, on my beloved Kindle so the nosy neighbours can’s see how depraved I am.) About halfway through the book the female character is giving the male character a blowjob. It’s hot. I’m enjoying it and so is the Hero. The author is providing detail but nothing too gross. (I think it’s TMI when an author describes the smell of a man’s nut-sack or the flavour of his spunk. I know. I’m such a prude!) And then, right in the middle of it, the female character starts thinking about something totally unrelated. We’re talking introspection regarding deep-seated, emotional issues for quite a long paragraph. Talk about a mood-killer. Then she goes back to tonguing his balls. I mean seriously? What the hell? Yes, I’m sure a woman’s mind wanders occasionally while she’s performing this particular task, but I think too much inner dialogue during a love scene really takes away from the flow. It also makes me think the female character isn’t enjoying what she’s doing and that takes a lot of the fun out of it. Do I want to read about people having perfunctory sex? Um. No. If the sex isn’t good enough to keep the female character’s attention then why am I reading about it?

Then there’s the question of how the characters can go with the dirty talk before it becomes either unrealistic or downright gross. I think the Hero can utter a few manly compliments while in the throes of ecstasy, but phrases like, “You`re going to burn me alive. So much pleasure I feel like I`m dying.” C’mon. There’s not an alpha male alive that would say anything like that. Yes, this is fantasy but it shouldn’t be ridiculous. If you were in bed with a gorgeous, ripped stud-muffin and he started spouting that nonsense, wouldn’t you be tempted to laugh? Just a little?

As for the gross factor, anal sex has clearly become commonplace in erotic romance. I haven’t explored it much in my books because I don’t find it very sexy, but a lot of people obviously do. I remember reading a very popular book where the Hero took the Heroine’s anal and vaginal virginity one night, while he was so drunk he didn’t remember it. I remember thinking, this guy is a douchebag and why is this girl hung up on him? Uberhot or not, if a guy double-pops your cherry, he better at least remember you. Flowers would not be out of the question.

My favourite love scenes are the ones where the characters have great chemistry. By that, I mean they’re obviously wildly attracted to one another, but there should also be some fun dialogue. The characters in my books are usually quite chatty because I think a sex scene needs intensity and heat but there should also be an element of fun to it. These characters should be enjoying each other and part of that is making each other laugh, at least between grunts and moans.

So, what love scene really stands out in your mind? Was it the dialogue that made it special or the author’s ability to describe the situation with just the right amount of detail? Or was it the unusual setting or position that made you think, “Yup. That’s hot”?

The day it became real

This post isn't related to writing, so please skip it if you don't want to hear what it was like to lose my hair after my first chemo treatment last year.

“Ouch.” She winced as she yanked the strip of wax away from her temple in one fast, smooth jerk. Another section of smooth white skin was revealed as she blinked her watering eyes in reaction. Less painful than a Brazilian, she thought to herself, but no less disturbing.

Staring at her reflection in the large bathroom mirror she ran her hand over the smooth dome of her head for about the millionth time and sighed. Her large eyes and pink cheeks stood out more than usual. She looked like an alien. If her eyebrows abandoned ship she would look like a large, annoyed baby. Not exactly the look most women aspired to, but she didn’t have a lot of choice in the matter.

Her hair was falling out. And waxing it off was just a pre-emptive strike to avoid watching large hanks of it drift down around her shoulders every time she ran a comb through the formerly long, brown strands. Or she could wake up to a pile of it on her pillow every morning. Feeling it slithering down her back as she went about her daily business of living was also an option.

 There was no escaping it. The chemo therapy was finally taking its toll.

She’d been on her way out to dinner with friends when it began. She’d innocently stepped out of the shower and looked back to see an absolute thicket of hair floating on top of the water as it drained.

 She’d known she was going to face this eventually, but she hadn’t expected such a dramatic physical manifestation of her treatment quite so soon. She had convinced herself she had weeks before she’d have to face this particular loss. But once again, the unexpected had happened and she had started looking like Squiggy from Laverne & Shirley in what felt like no time at all.

That night, just over a week ago, she’d fished out the offending hairball and went about her business of getting ready as usual. She was in complete denial. By the time she’d dried and styled her hair she had a virtual topiary hedge of hair around the sink. There was no denying it. This would be the last night she went out looking like herself for a very long time. Six months at least. She made an appointment to get it cut the next day.

Unfortunately, getting it cut short did not slow down the process much. She’d thought the bizarre Dorothy Hamill transitional style would preserve it a bit longer. She had no idea why she’d thought this. Less weight on the hair shaft, she told herself. But she was just grasping at straws. Or hairs, for that matter. If anything it began to fall out faster.  

So, she’d arranged to have her hairdresser shave it off. But even that wasn’t enough. There was stubble. Dark whiskers littered all over her scalp, like small exclamation points. It didn’t matter. She could cover it up with a jaunty cap.

But then she went to bed and found her head stuck to the pillow. The scalp stubble was like Velcro, holding her firmly prisoner against the white cotton. She had to yank her head away to change positions. No one at the cancer clinic had mentioned this indignity. But then that was nothing new.  

She should have gone back to her hairdresser and had it all removed but she just couldn’t face another trip. Besides this last step seemed too personal to share with a virtual stranger.

Her best friend had offered to help. She’d bring one of her husband’s Mach 3 Razors and they’d have a pruning party, she’d said, trying to be supportive.

But she had declined. The truth was that she was a little scared of using a razor. Another side effect of the chemo was a compromised immune system. If she cut her scalp she could end up with a nasty infection and she really didn’t want that. She especially didn’t want her friend to feel responsible if she did accidentally slice-and-dice her scalp.

So she was alone. Waxing her head and watching herself become more unrecognizable with every strip of cotton. It was awful, but there was also something very liberating about it too. She no longer looked like the typical girl next door anymore. She was changing. Evolving. Becoming someone else. Someone edgy and dangerous.

Or at least that’s what she told herself as she leaned down and really looked at herself in the mirror. The truth was that she still looked pretty harmless. She was an office clerk who smiled too much and laughed too loud. Attractive, but no great beauty. Her most notable physical trait had been a really remarkable rack. But now that was gone too. Just 18 inches of scar tissue remained to mark the spot where her double D’s had formerly lived since she was an awkward self-conscious teenager. Scars and the shiny white curve of her new chrome dome were what people would notice about her now.

It was so tempting to just sit down on the cold white tile and weep. Superficial or not she wanted to grieve for her hair. But she wouldn’t. It sucked to look like Kojak, but at least she would see it grow back someday. Her prognosis was good. She could even have reconstruction in a few months and get those perky B’s she’d always wanted. She was fortunate. She really was. But that didn’t stop her from hating this part. How people would look at her now that she was marked as a cancer victim. She’d have to get a wig. Hopefully something that didn’t look like she was smuggling a rodent on her head.

As she slides her hand over the smooth skin of her shockingly pale scalp she finally gives in and mourns the loss of her hair. Tears gather and fall slowly at first and then with real abandon. She’s been so strong until now but everyone has their limits and she’s just reached hers. This is about more than just hair. She looks at herself and cries because she has been in denial since the moment the doctor told her she had Breast Cancer. Really looking at herself in the mirror forces her to face the facts. She stares and realizes that she really can’t deny it any longer. The reality of her situation is staring back at her in the mirror. She has narrowly escaped a slow and painful death and she is terrified that all the treatments won’t be enough to save her. It’s not the very real possibility of death that makes her cry though.

She cries because she feels like she’s wasted her life and now it will never be the same again. She will never be the same again.

The Return Of Verena Vincent

Yes, it's true. I've brought her out of retirement. I've re-released my paranormal erotic romance novel that was banned under a new title, "Trapped with the Vampire." Personally I preferred the old one ("The Vampire's Last Virgin") but I suppose it did suggest that the heroine was underage. (She's twenty-two so just repressed.) I've put a disclaimer regarding the change in title in the description so hopefully no one will buy it thinking it's a completely new novel. This is unlikely considering it didn't sell very well, but you never know. I hate upsetting readers.
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00KPJ83FU

"Mona's Honeymoon Fantasy" the third book in the Delta of Venus series will also be coming out this week. Not sure what the price will be yet. Either 99 cents or free for the first few days anyway.

This will be the first book I've published in almost a year, so I'm a little nervous. I feel like I'm not as good a writer as I was pre-Cancer. "The Love Laws" tanked so badly that I've lost some of my confidence. Which probably contributes to the fact that it has taken me so long to complete all the various projects I've been working on.

I like DOV 3 a lot but that doesn't mean the public will. The hero is sexy and funny, big and superhot. Just the way I like them and there's some plot involved as well. Always a challenge in a novella. And a few hot love scenes too.

This book also marks a lot of milestones for me. In the last few months I had my final chemo room appointment, my final regular oncologist appointment and I had my port catheter removed. So that journey is finally over and my hair is looking fabulous and weirdly curly. So life is looking pretty sweet to me right now.

Part of that is you guys, the readers. You make everything better.

So what do women fantasize about?

I'm just finishing off one of my Delta of Venus Inc. books and I'm contemplating what the subject of the next book in the series will be. So far I've covered the rugged cowboy fantasy and an erotic home invasion scenario. The one I'm just finishing dealt with a woman losing her virginity under the most ideal circumstances. (Hint: things don't go as planned.)

Now what? I read a book several years ago that discussed women's fantasies in detail. (Sorry, I can't remember the title.) The author had compiled an entire book of women's fantasies and discussed why women fantasized about things like: rape, incest, bestiality, etc. etc. It was interesting, but I wonder if your average woman wants to read about these things. To be honest, a lot of these fantasies were more disturbing than sexy to me. But then I write pretty tame erotica compared to what's out there. (Have you seen some of the stuff on Smashwords? Wowzers. Tentacle monsters and Sasquatch are getting a LOT of action, let me tell you.)

I've also explored the whole construction worker fantasy in my Kingston Brothers series. And will continue to do so because I personally, love a guy who can fix things. Nothing is more attractive to me than a guy who knows what to do with his tools. (Yes, cheap double entendre, but it makes me smile.)

For men it's easy, the number one fantasy for them is a threesome with two women. And why wouldn't it be? Four breasts are better than two, right? But for me, I think writing about a threesome would be rather unsexy. I have trouble keeping track of everyone's lips and tongues and limbs as it is. If you throw another set in there I think it might get confusing. In the ones I`ve read I`m always trying to figure out who`s body part they`re talking about and it comes off sounding like a game of Twister gone horribly wrong rather than an erotic scene.

I`ve always had a thing for rock stars. There`s just something so irresistible about a guy that can get up in front of thousands of people and sing his ass off. (I recently saw Hedley in concert and found myself wildly attracted to the lead singer, despite the fact that he kind of looks like a tiny Klingon.)Any guy that can do that is fantasy material as far as I`m concerned.

And how about fire fighters? Is there anything sexier than a man who risks his life to save others? I don't think so. Love a man with a big, powerful hose and a red, shiny truck.

So, if you could have any fantasy at all. I mean, anything, what would it be? Would you re-enact a scene with Mr. Grey in his red room? Or have you always wanted to seduce Father Ralph from The Thorn Birds? How about The Fonz? Okay, maybe not The Fonz. But you get the idea. If you could walk into Delta of Venus Inc., and have your fantasy fulfilled, no questions asked and no repercussion, what would you ask for?