Liv Rancourt's Blog, page 32

Lather: The Twinkle Jackson Story

So what happens when you take a bunch of writers and stick them all in the same blogging class? They organize a round robin of storytelling, that’s what. Last year we journeyed together through the thrilling adventures of The Octopus Knows. And this year we’re back with another tale of wonder and amazement suds. We’re two chapters into Lather: The Twinkle Jackson Story, in which a virtuous young lad with bad hair goes up against an evil…I’m not exactly sure what. You’ll have to keep reading to find out.



All the chapters can be found on Laird Sapir’s Blog, or for chapter two, check out Mike Shulenberg’s post from last week.

And now, without further preamble, here is Chapter Three…

Diabolical Mastermindedness. What hogswaddle. Jupernia stalked into her sleeping closet, peeved beyond all measure. Her inability to vent frustration by slamming the flux-powered pocket door proved to be the final straw, and she heaved her climbing spurs into the meager approximation of a mattress the shrimperators had provided for sleeping.

She was so over it.

She tossed back the hood of her black cloak, freeing her rambunctious riot of ginger curls, and knelt beside the bed, evaluating the arrangement of the spurs. Patterns were universal and potentially enlightening, though Jupernia had little hope she’d find meaning in this besmeared place.

Mesmerized by the display, she barely heard the little hiccup, her only warning.

“Um, hello? Get your fluffy butt over here. I want to talk to you.”

Torn from her meditation, Jupernia flew around, stiletto blade in hand.

The Golden Goddess leaned against the flux door. “Like that thing’ll do you any good against me, sister.”

With a scowl that had wilted lesser beings, Jupernia stabbed the stiletto back into the sheath strapped to her forearm. “What is it, sister?”

“Hi there! How are you?! Long time no see. How ya been hanging?”

Grabbing the edge of her hood with both hands, Jupernia flipped it back up over her face. She hated her sister, from her tumble of loose golden curls to her perfect peony pedicure. “What. Do. You. Want?”

“You’re no fun, you know?” The Golden Goddess tossed her curls and hitched up her belt, the only thing that kept her swirling silver robes from flying off her Rubenesque frame.

Jupernia answered from under the cover of darkness. “Have you met Lord Lobstar, sister? He’d wither even your perennial perkitude.”

“Whatever.” Another toss of the golden curls. “So, I found your contact. He’s a kid named Twinkle, and he’s got some serious chops. Bad hair, but he’s a demon with the…”

“Shh! Don’t say that here. Lord Lobstink has a pile of fiendish schemes he’s going to throw at them.”

“Well my boy Twinkle’s batting a thousand when it comes to that.”

Jupernia shook her hood so that it dropped even further over her face. “What is this ‘batting a thousand’?”

“You know, like in baseball.” The Goddess’s eyeroll could have been heard in Tacoma.

Baseball? Jupernia didn’t even want to know. “Are we done here, sister?”

“I guess. As soon as you can, head down to earth and look for Twinkle Jackson. You’ll know him by the hair. Oh, and the code is C-C-E-E-G-G-E.”

With that, the Golden Goddess faded, leaving Jupernia staring at the abysmal mud-colored door. Everything about Lord Lobstuub and his flying rubbish bin offended her. At least now she knew what the next step would be. Except…she glanced down at the spread of the climbing spurs shredding the lame imitation of a mattress. They’d look so nice embedded in the walls of a certain robotic exoskeleton.

An hour later, Jupernia materialized outside a falling-down thatched roof cottage. The door opened and an old man with silver dreadlocks and a mustache borrowed from a walrus peeped out. Hmm. Intriguing. She flicked her fingers at him, driving him back into the house. The door popped open again, releasing a boy whose head was covered with a flaming gold fuzz. He was humming. The code.

“Another one?” Twinkle yelped when he saw Jupernia. “Why do you weirdos keep bothering me?”

~~~

Why indeed, Twinkle? And are you really batting a thousand? Your readers are dying to know!

To catch the next chapter, keep an eye on Ellen Gregory’s blog, and remember, there entire line-up can be found on Laird Sapir’s blog. Thanks for playing along

Peace,

Liv

Favorite Fictional Hero

So yesterday Lisa from the MyWana Facebook page posted the following status update…

Favorite fictional hero: Go.

Out of the 17 responses, most identified male characters, but a few girls made the list, including Anne Shirley, Katniss Everdene, and Eowyn (possibly the movie version, because she’s pretty invisible in the books). Most comments suggested literary characters, except for Richard Castle.

Jamie Frasier (from Outlander) and Lestat were the only multiple vote-getters. (Jamie would have been the overall winner, except I haven’t finished Outlander yet and didn’t feel right about voting for him as a favorite. Next time, though…) I hadn’t heard of a few of them, like Lucius Chaerea and Rincewind the Wizard. Seems there are more books out there for me to read. Goodie!

And here our heroine rides off in search of her hero…or just plain rides off, having a blast.

Now, this was by no means a scientific survey, but it did prompt me to start thinking about what makes a memorable hero. For my own favorite, I vacillate between the troubled nobility of Aragorn and the blazing charisma of Lestat, probably because I was born on the cusp of Taurus and Aries.

That explains a lot, doesn’t it?

I know a hero’s got to have a strong moral compass that’ll motivate him toward doing what’s right, and he has to have the skills necessary to capture the attention of an independent-minded heroine (and reader). Boasting a visually satisfying appearance doesn’t hurt, either.

Heh.

So what makes a hero work for you? I’m kicking around ideas for a contemporary romance. It’s still early enough that I can build whatever I want into my hero. So far I know what he looks like – check out my Pinterest board for the visually satisfying (!) picture of Joe Manganiello I’m using for inspiration. I know he’s twenty four and the kind of guy who leads the grace on Christmas Day when he and his college roommates sit down for dinner. He’s not stodgy at all, just well-respected by his friends, yet still young enough to do really stupid things some time.

So what else should I add? Any heroic qualities you really can’t live without? Or, if you’d rather, pretend you saw the MyWana FB status. Who would you say is your favorite fictional hero?

Food for thought…

Liv

Very Inspiring…

Seven things you might not know about me…Hmm…That’s the theme of today’s post, and maybe it’ll inspire you. Or something…

This morning I was nominated for the Very Inspiring Blog award by the always-fun Debbie Christiana. I’ve never actually met Deb, but I swear we were besties in high school – or would have been, had our high schools been on the same coast. You can check out her blog HERE, and check out Twin Flames, her paranormal romance, HERE.

So…Seven things you don’t already know about me…

#1 I am the pickiest eater on the planet. Among other things, I don’t like raw onions or green pepper or pickles or mayonnaise. I really, really hate mayonnaise.  If any of these offending items show up on my plate, I nibble around them…or go find chocolate.

#2 I’m totally addicted to SongPop. Actually, if you’ve been paying attention, you might know that already, since Facebook helpfully posts my successes (and failures) whether I want them to or not. I can just hear some of you out there: Wow, it took her 3.5 seconds to figure out THAT song?!

#3 My husband buys me roses every year on Valentine’s Day, but sometimes I forget to get him a card. I’ll let you decide which of us got the better end of that deal.

#4 Three years ago I had a life-changing back injury, and for months I couldn’t sit for long periods, which meant I couldn’t do my favorite hobbies, crochet and needlework. I could lay on my belly and write with pencil and paper though…and while now I can sit, I can’t seem to stop writing.

#5 When I was at the University of Hawaii, I used to waitress in a bar that had $0.84 drink night. I can’t remember all the multiples of 84 the way I used to, but I can do arithmetic in my head faster than your average bear.

#6 I hate yelling. Any TV or radio program that involves argument for its own sake (think talk radio and much of what happens on the 24/7 news stations) gets an automatic turn-off. No patience for it. None.

#7 Living in the moment is the hardest thing I’ve ever tried to do.

There you have it. Seven things you may or may not have needed to know about me. Now, the rules of this meme are below, and here’s where I nominate three other bloggers. No pressure guys, but I nominate Amanda Byrne and her bloggy snarkfest Byrne After Reading, Marianne Hansen Rencher who too-infrequently gifts us with a post on her blog Comedy of Errors, and Ellen Gregory, who explores the world of fantasy from the other end of the globe on her blog To Beyond And Back.Thanks for reading along, and I hope you have an awesome weekend!

Peace,

Liv

Da Rules

Display the award logo on your blog.

Link back to the person who nominated you.

State 7 things about yourself.

Nominate three other bloggers and link back to them.

Trapped Under Ice

Today’s guest is MJ Schiller, whose new release is called TRAPPED UNDER ICE. I’ve read the first couple chapters, enough to know that MJ is a very cool girl and likely also a secret Choir Geek like me. Awesome! So I’m going to get out of the way and let her tell you about teenagers and life in Tornado Alley and TRAPPED UNDER ICE…

I saw a vanity plate today that said, “UNDR PD,” and I chuckled. Aren’t we all lady, aren’t we all? Having said that, I will admit that I am well-paid for my job as a lunch lady. My other job, as a mom, not so much. Still, the benefit package is phenomenal! Even with teens, I will get the occasional “I love you, Mom!” Only now it’s when I bring home the right kind of cereal or a box of Ding Dongs. (I often have one item on the grocery list. “Good food.” Apparently sometimes my shopping attempts fall short because “we never have any good food in the house!” is a common complaint.) Anyway, with four teens, one eighteen- year-old and sixteen-year-old triplets, I take those little love tokens I get when the groceries come in and treasure them.

But back to that license plate. It got me thinking about vanity plates in general. How can you sum up who you are in just seven little letters? Our plates say DONKEYS. This one has people shaking their heads. My husband’s name is Don, so some think it has to do with that. One time in a Wal-Mart parking lot I was even questioned by a man who raised donkeys for a living. Some people think we’re staunch Democrats. The truth is it’s a long and confusing story. But I’ll try to explain. One time we were staying in a hotel in Des Moines. There was nothing much on the TV but the kids were watching a story about this older man and his donkey that visited nursing homes on Animal Planet. The donkey’s name was Nicodemus. So we started calling the kids our little donkeys or Nicodemuses, or just Nicis, for short. Why? Who knows. But when it came time to get a new van and we needed plates and asked the kids what to put on it they came up with DONKEYS.

Seven little letters! Man! I have trouble keeping my tweets down to one hundred-forty characters! I can’t believe it when someone tweets and leaves like twenty-four characters left over. Think of what you could do with those twenty-four little characters! Being succinct is especially hard when you’re talking about something, or someone you love. Like my sizzling hot rock star character Chad Evans from TRAPPED UNDER ICE. He’s a long, lean rockin’ machine, with sexy facial hair and the kind of gravelly voice that makes a girl go wild. Sure, he has his issues. But who wouldn’t growing up the way he did.

But Beth changed all that for him. She respected him for the man he was. Loved him, despite his flaws. Accepted what he gave, and asked for nothing more. Which, of course, made him want to give her everything! But the best of what he gave, in Beth’s own words, was “That wonderful, heady feeling of being in your own private bubble together, of making love while the world went on without you, this was what Chad gave her for a second time, and she knew just how precious it was.”

So what would my character, Chad Evans’, vanity plate read? Easy. ROCKSTR. And Beth’s LNCH LDY. But that is what they do, not who they are. See. I told you it was hard.

Here’s an excerpt from TRAPPED UNDER ICE:

Chad rang the doorbell, nerves making him tug at his sleeves to straighten his shirt. Everything had to go just right tonight. Beth opened the door and light fell on the porch. “Damn!”

She laughed. “My, you do have a way with words.”

“Let me see this!” He whistled, stepping in and circling around her so he could get the full effect. Beth had on a longer emerald dress, with four straps crisscrossing her upper back before plunging downward and long slits gliding up her legs. Again, her hair was swept up, making her neck seem so much more inviting. He returned to face her, admiring her from the front. He laughed. “I’m sorry, it’s just…damn!” He shook his head.

“Oh stop,” she mumbled, her face flushing as she hit him with her handbag.

“I love the way you blush.” Chad touched her hot face and gave her a kiss.

When he pulled away, she blurted out, bubbling over, “I’m so excited. So where are we going?”

“Ah-ah-ah. Not yet. You need to wear this.” He pulled a silky, black scarf from his suit pocket.

“Ooooh. What kind of kinky thing am I in for?”

“You little vixen!” Chad gave her a sharp swap on the derrière. He positioned himself behind his date again and brought the scarf over Beth’s head to tie it behind her as a blindfold.

“What are you up to?” she asked coquettishly.

Chad leaned into that tantalizing neck, annunciating each word in her ear with a seductive whisper, “Try not to anticipate.” Then, unable to resist, he kissed her there.

She squirmed with delight. “Oooh. That’s so much better when I can’t see you.”

“Uhhh…is that supposed to be a compliment? ‘Cause, it doesn’t sound like one.”

“Oh, silly. You know what I mean.” She tried to reach for him. “I can’t find you to kiss you,” she whined in frustration.

“That’s part of the fun,” he teased, his voice now coming from in front of her. “Okay,” he continued, leading the way, “you need to take a step down onto the porch. Where’s your key?”

“In my bag.”

He took her handbag and locked the door. As he moved her toward the steps, another arm supported her on the right. “Wow, Beth! You look fantastic.”

“Thank you, Pete. So he roped you into this, too?”

“No rope needed. I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

Chad shot his usually tightlipped bodyguard a warning look, which Beth, of course, could not see. After the two men got her safely in the limousine and closed the door, Pete commented, “If you don’t propose to her, I will.”

“Just you try it, old man,” he returned with a grin.

You can find TRAPPED UNDER ICE at Amazon, BN.com, the I-book Store, and other e-book retailers.

MJ’s Bio

I was born in the heart of Tornado Alley, and I’ve been a bit mixed up ever since. Not really, but I’ve always wanted to use that line. The medical community has established no solid connection between the place of my birth and my off-beat personality.

I was born in Overland Park, KS, grew up in St. Louis and graduated from the University of Missouri-Columbia with a degree in English education. I left the workforce, however, when my kids were born. Unbelievably I now have an eighteen year old and sixteen-year-old triplets! Yes, I write to escape teenagerdom. Although I love them dearly. I also escape via rock concerts and karaoke. My first book, TAKEN BY STORM, was published by Crimson Romance last fall, and my next book, the second in the ROCKING ROMANCE COLLECTION, titled ABANDON ALL HOPE will be coming soon!

You can find me at www.mjschiller.blogspot.com, or MJ on FB, or Twitter.

So what does your license plate say, or what would it, if you had vanity plates?

Identity Crisis – We Have Pr!zes

So today, my dear Rancourtesans, I’m interrupting my regularly scheduled snippet of family craziness to bring you an amazing opportunity. Crimson Romance author Eliza Daly is celebrating the release of her new romance, Identity Crisis. It looks like a fabulous read, and she’ll be awarding one $20 gift certificate and two $10 gift certificates for either Amazon or Barnes & Noble to three randomly drawn winners during her excerpt reveal tour March 4. To enter, leave a comment below, and please include your e-mail address so she knows how to find you. Winners will be contacted on March 8. Good luck everyone!

When Olivia Doyle’s father dies under suspicious circumstances, rather than inheriting a family fortune, she inherits a new identity. She learns they were placed in the Federal Witness Protection Program when she was five years old. Her father was involved in an art forgery ring and testified against the mob. Brought up not to trust anyone, Olivia has a difficult time relying on U.S. Marshal Ethan Ryder to protect her, and to keep her secret. She fears her father may have continued his life of crime through her art gallery. She has little choice but to depend on Ethan when she realizes someone is now after her. Olivia’s search for the truth leads her and Ethan across country to a family and past she doesn’t remember.

At the age of ten, Ethan witnessed a brutal murder. He vowed when he grew up, he’d protect people in danger. Protecting Olivia is difficult when she won’t trust him. He soon realizes his desire to protect her goes beyond doing his job, but if his judgment becomes clouded by emotions, her safety could be jeopardized.

Can Ethan and Olivia learn to trust each other when they uncover secrets that will change their lives forever?

Identity Crisis is available at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, iTunes, All Romance, eBooks.com, and Kobo.

Excerpt

Father Clifford slipped a yellowed envelope from the side pocket of his vestment. “Your father gave this to me many years ago. Asked that I give it to you upon his death.”

She took the envelope from his hand. The organ music faded and a desolate, eerie stillness fell over the church, raising the hairs on the back of her neck. She tightened the shawl around her shoulders. She opened the envelope to find a letter and a newspaper clipping. She started with the letter.

Dear Livvy,

First, know that I loved you more than anything in this world. That’s why I hope someday you’ll forgive me for what I’ve done. Telling you the truth while I was alive could have put your life in danger. Now that I’m gone, I no longer fear for your safety. They would only have hurt you to get to me.

The only way to keep us safe was to enter the Witness Protection Program when you were five. Leaving our friends and family was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. I can’t stand the thought of you now being alone. I hope you’ll go back to our family, in the town where I grew up, Five Lakes, Wisconsin. I’d like to be laid to rest there, next to your mother. Please forgive me enough to grant me this one last wish. If you should ever encounter any problems, contact Roy Howard, the U.S. Marshal who relocated us, at 415-334-9076. I’m so sorry. Please believe you were the most important thing to me. You were my life. My Livvy.

Love, Dad

Olivia stood paralyzed, her mind racing, trying to comprehend the letter. Was this some kind of sick joke? For the past twenty-four years her dad had lived in fear that somebody would hurt them? What had forced him to leave behind everyone he’d loved? Everyone she’d probably loved, but obviously couldn’t remember. And if her mom wasn’t buried in San Francisco, whose grave had Olivia been visiting here all these years? She tried to hold the letter steady in her trembling hands. Of course it was vague. Her dad had been a man of few words. However, these few words expressed a lot of emotion, something he’d never been good at doing.

“Is everything all right?” Father Clifford’s voice penetrated her thoughts.

Concern creased the older man’s brow and from the curiosity filling his gray eyes, he had no clue what the envelope contained. Her dad hadn’t even trusted a priest with his secret. Her dad had been the only person she’d ever really trusted, and it turned out she hadn’t truly known him.

She merely nodded, unable to find her voice. She inhaled a deep breath. The scent of beeswax candles and incense did little to calm the panic racing through her veins. She unfolded a clipping from a Chicago newspaper, dated twenty-four years ago. The headline read Art Dealer in Bed with Mob Blows Whistle on Forgery Ring and Vinnie Carlucci. The article included a photo of police officers escorting her dad. She started reading the article.Prominent Chicago art dealer Andrew Donovan confesses to having sold more than a hundred forgeries …

Her stomach dropped. She slapped a hand over her mouth, certain she was about to vomit right there on the pew.

Her dad had been a criminal.

The nature of his crime made it all the more surreal.

She stared in disbelief at the papers in her hand. His name had been Andrew Donovan, not Alex Doyle. Her last name was Donovan. Was her first name actually Olivia? Instead of inheriting a family fortune, she’d inherited a new identity.

Or rather, an old one.

Eliza Daly’s first attempt at creative writing was in fourth grade. She and her friends were huge Charlie’s Angels fans and she would sit in her bedroom at night writing scripts for them to act out at recess the following day. She was Kelly Garrett. Fast forward to the present, she’s still writing stories about beautiful women who always get their men. The journey from fourth grade script writer to published author wasn’t an easy one, but it was always an adventure and the final destination was well worth it.

When Eliza isn’t traveling for her job as an event planner, or tracing her ancestry roots through Ireland, she’s at home in Milwaukee working on her next novel, bouncing ideas off her husband Mark, and her cats Quigley, Frankie, and Sammy.

You can find Eliza on the web at Website, Facebook, Twitter and Goodreads.

Washing The Dishes

So last weekend we suffered a minor catastrophe. The husband determined there was a leak somewhere in the dishwasher innards. I’m sure he had a more specific description than that, but for my purposes, “somewhere in the innards” was sufficient. His solution, however, was not. He wanted to swing by Lowe’s on the way home from the son’s basketball game and buy a new one.

But I argued that we should wait.

They’re up to something…

See, our kitchen was assembled in 1948, and except for a few minor changes, it looks the same as it did back then. In the fourteen years since we bought the house, we’ve put in a new floor and new appliances, but the cabinetry and (GODAWFUL) 4×4 tile is original to the house. I took a picture of the tile, but it was just TOO ugly to post, so you just get to see a snippet of the room. The photo above does illustrate the problem with plunking a modern-sized refrigerator in a space designed in ’48.

Can you say “bottle neck”? Wish we thought of that before…

In a perfect world, we’d blow it up and start from scratch. Reality will likely be a little more restrained. After all, the husband can do a lot of the work himself, though his timeline might mean we’re ordering take-out for the better part of two years. Given that, I’ve scaled back my dreams, though one of my New Year’s Resolutions is to finally replace the old (nasty, impossible to clean) tile with a solid surface counter top.

Repeat after me: Solid. Surface. Counter.

In the husband’s defense, the dishwasher is about eight years old, and some of the bits are rusty and the little wheels from the bottom shelf are broken off and need to be carefully reapplied before you move the loaded tray back into place, using a semi-rolling, mostly lifting action. We kinda do need a new dishwasher. I just want it to be chosen in the context of a bigger plan for the kitchen. I don’t want to buy whichever one is on sale, and then have to deal with rust and broken wheelies in another eight years.

Which is all fine, except that in the meantime, while we’re thinking things through and making some basic design decisions, the dishes still need to get clean.

So I’m washing them.

The husband was really great about loading the dishwasher, but since the delay in purchasing a new one is my idea, I feel responsible for the dishes. And you know, I don’t mind. It’s a little like folding clothes: something I don’t exactly look forward to, but that isn’t really that bad when you get into it. It’s repetitive, relaxing, and looking over the (cramped, oddly arranged) space when I’m done is usually pretty satisfying.

Okay, on the scale of catastrophes, this might not rate very high, and maybe you’re all snickering into your cocktails at this flaky woman who wouldn’t let her husband just buy a new dishwasher. In my defense, I want to plan instead of react. And washing dishes for a few weeks is not the end of the world. Really.

How do you deal with home-improvement projects? Any stories (horror or otherwise) to share?

Happy weekend!

Liv

All Over The Place

I have to say that the best part about publishing a book with Crimson Romance has been getting to know all the other Crimson authors and reading all their fantastic work. I grabbed the chance to take a look at the first few chapters from All Over The Place, by today’s guest Serena Clark, and it looks like a total hoot! Keep reading to learn more about Serena and her book, and then follow one of the buy links at the end. Seriously. It’s a fun read.

Thanks for having me to visit, Liv – your website is so gorgeous!

Thanks Serena

LR: All Over The Place looks like a whole lotta fun. What do you like best about it? Is there a particular aspect that you think works really well?

SC: Thanks – I had a lot of fun writing it! One thing I really enjoyed was weaving the plot threads through the book, keeping Livi on the move (literally and emotionally) and keeping the reader in suspense about which guy she would end up with. I also really loved the secondary characters who turned up. I don’t know where some of them came from, it was like they just walked in! And most of all, I love the happy ending. Oh, I LOVE a happy ending!

 

LR: How much research did you have to do for All Over The Place , or did you just pull from your own (amazingly varied!) life experiences?

SC: Lol well all those experiences definitely contributed! I had a lot to draw on, but I also had a great time doing research. It helps that I chose things that I found really interesting – like the Notting Hill Carnival in London, the stories surrounding a whole bunch of rock stars, and of course magical Paris! Thank goodness for the internet!

 

LR: Your character Livi lived through a reality TV disaster. Do you like reality TV? What’s your fave program?

SC: I do like reality TV – but not all of it. I think we’re kind of scraping the bottom of the barrel now! I did go through a Kardashians phase – it’s really like a cartoon I think! But my all-time favourite reality TV show was My Big Fat Obnoxious Fiancé, from 2003/04. It was absolute genius, with a wicked twist at the end. The fiancé was played incredibly well by Steven W. Bailey, who was also on Grey’s Anatomy. Oh, and anyone who knows me will confirm that my very favourite shows, of any kind, are American Idol and X Factor. I can’t watch them without a box of tissues handy!

 

LR: All writers are readers, right? Who’s on your nightstand right now, and which author has influenced your work the most?

SC: It’s really hard to pick just one writer, but high on my list are Anne Tyler and Nora Ephron. I like Anne Tyler’s earlier books the most – she has such a knack of showing the poignancy and meaning in everyday things. Even the most ordinary people can be so strange, and that weird ordinariness is what makes us most human. And Nora Ephron! Really, was there ever a better screenwriter? I’m so sad she’s passed and there won’t be any more movies from her.

On my nightstand right now is a Kindle full of books! I only just got one and I’m really loving it. There’s also a pile of Architectural Digest magazines, which I adore. They take me to another world, where people’s homes are beautifully styled and coordinated, and there are no lamps without shades or grubby fingerprints on the walls!

 

LR: This might not be a fair question for the mother of two boys, but do you prefer clutter or quiet?

SC: Quiet! *sigh* My natural inclination is to be really tidy and organized, and I hung onto that for a long time – but I’ve had to give up now. Between boys and paid work and the call of writing, something had to give! I used to find it hard to concentrate if there’s mess, but now I’ve learned to just go into another room…

 

LR: Describe your perfect writing situation.

SC: One in which I have all the time in the world! I don’t mind where it is, but I do find it difficult to write in fits and starts. When things are going well you get in a kind of zone, and you just want to keep going! Tearing yourself away back to real life can be tough. Mind you, while writing this I’ve stopped to give kids popsicles, hang out washing, and start the dinner, amongst other things. As we all know, women are good at multi-tasking!

 

LR: Since it looks like you’ve done just about everything, I gotta wonder what your day job is now. Are you juggling work in addition to writing, raising kids, and living out your Happily Ever After with Mr. Tall, Dark & Handsome?

SC: My day job is a wordy one! I do freelance writing, editing and proofreading for business clients – very workaday – and for New Zealand Geographic magazine – magical! This is the cover of the next issue, which will be out shortly. I’m lucky that I can mostly take on work as it suits me – although I’d rather just write books of course!

 

LR: Where’s your dream vacation? Is there any place you’re dying to go that you haven’t visited yet?

SC: Well, on my last stint overseas I really wanted to go to Mongolia. I wanted to ride Mongolian ponies across the steppe, like Julia Roberts, but I never made it there. So it’s on my bucket list. But I don’t think drinking fermented mare’s milk and eating sheep’s head would suit my boys! (Not exactly my dream dinner either, I admit!) So right now I’m dreaming of a family trip to Disneyland. I want to have my picture taken with Mickey Mouse again!

 

LR: What’s next on your horizon? Describe your current WIP(s) or other upcoming project.

SC: On the horizon – hopefully not too distant now – is my next book. Lots of people have asked about it, so I’ve tried to sum it up without giving too much away: England, California, matchmaking, bees, Iggy Pop, loss and acceptance, secrets and sandcastles. A hostage drama, flash mobs, people power in a hyper-connected world, true love, and the trials and joys of sisterhood. But this may change, depending on who else walks into the story!

 

That was so much fun – thanks for the opportunity to chat with you today!

Well thank you, Serena. You’re welcome back any time!

 

About All Over the Place

Contemporary romantic fiction with a chick lit feel

 

Livi Callaway has fled back to London after a reality TV disaster in New Zealand. Safely anonymous in the big city, she’s determined to stay under the radar from now on. But her attempts to build a new life are complicated by unexpected visitors from her old one, and new dangers and temptations lie in wait.

 

Late one night, she meets a mysteriously sexy American on the Underground – and the events that follow take her from Pooh Bear to the golden lights of Paris, via a trail of rock stars dead and alive. A family in disarray, a determined Swede, a crazed Australian and a childhood friend (who might yet be more than that) have her all over the place as she tries to discover the American’s secret – while keeping her own.

 

With help – and occasional hindrance – from her friends, what she eventually finds is something unexpected…sometimes, running away can lead you to exactly what you didn’t know you needed.

About Serena Clarke

Serena grew up in a family of itchy-footed readers and dreamers – not concentrating, reading the atlas and Narnia books, and planning to escape somewhere magical as soon as she could. When she was 16, she went from New Zealand to live in Sweden for a year. It was the beginning of many travels and adventures – and quite a few disasters! She didn’t know it at the time, but eventually she’d be grateful for all the downs as well as the ups. As writers say in the face of adversity: “I can use that.” She’s now living back in New Zealand, where she writes stories reflecting her determined belief in magic, possibility and second chances – and happy endings!

 

Find Serena here

http://www.serenaclarke.com

https://www.facebook.com/SerenaClarkeAuthor

https://twitter.com/Serena_Clarke

http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6893136.Serena_Clarke

 

Buy All Over the Place here

http://www.amazon.com/Over-Place-Crimson-Romance-ebook/dp/B00B2B0X9E/

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Over-Place-Crimson-Romance-ebook/dp/B00B2B0X9E/

https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/all-over-the-place/id594641901?mt=11

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/all-over-the-place-serena-clarke/1114286511

 

Seasons Change

So just over a year ago, when I was preparing for the release of my first book, the publisher asked me for an author photo.

Oops.

I have a thing about photographs. In the first place, as the holder of the mighty iPhone, I’m usually the one TAKING the pictures, not the one in front of the camera. And honestly, photographs of ME make it very clear that I’m no longer 22 years old. Or 32 years old, for that matter. So I chose to use an amazing picture my sister made.

It captures the sort of big sister/best friend/confidant vibe that I wanted to associate with my writing, and I remain incredibly grateful that she gave me such a cool gift when she made the picture.

And yet…

With the release of my second book, I want to make a change. I’m feeling more confident about my identity as a writer, and I want a real, professional head shot. I figure it’s pointless to wish I looked younger, and while I’d love to lose some weight first, that’s always a moving target with me.

You know what gardeners say, right? The right time to prune is when the clippers are in your hand and the branches are too long.

So today I’m getting head shots done, and when they’re ready, I’ll be switching out my avatar and posting them here. I’m alternating between excitement and, well, that ‘ready to puke’ feeling you get right before you walk on-stage to sing a solo.

Yeah, that.

Stay tuned. Hopefully in the next week or so I’ll be changing up the look of things. Wish me luck…

Peace,

Liv

 

Friday Fun

So yesterday Noni and I got into it over email, and I ended up giggling. Let’s see if we’ll make you giggle, too…

NONI: The definition of “humbling” in the dictionary?

“Playing Words With Friends against Liza Rancourt. Sheesh.

Liza is my sister. She’s that good.

LIV: You’re better off playing Songpop with me.

NONI: No, actually I’m not, because at this point you know ALL the songs.

LIV: Didn’t Barry Manilow sing that?

NONI: So help me Liv, if you’ve put that song in my head for the day I’m taking your daughter out for a tattoo.

LIV: Here http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9vST6hVRj2A

Be careful. The link might take you to a clip of  The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald.

NONI: I should have known not to click play when I saw the ship, but I wasn’t thinking.

There is blackness in your soul.

LIV: Just trying to be helpful.

NONI: Super helpful. Now go to sleep.

LIV:  G’night.

And on that note, I’m going to give you another opportunity to check out The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald, a song that’s guaranteed to live on in your brain ALL DAY LONG.

Peace,

Liv

And in case you’ve got more space for pop-tune-wonder, here’s a link to I Write The Songs by Barry Manilow…

Naughty Mom Evolution

So recently my pal Debra Dunbar, author of a totally fun series about an imp named Samantha, has started a new series of shorts, starting with Naughty Mom On Vacation. Now I haven’t read all of it yet (gave up reading naughty for Lent, but that’s another blog post) but Debra can write, and I LOVE this concept. I’ll stop now and let her tell you more about the Naughty Mom Evolution…

Or should that be “revolution”?

I love to read romance, especially erotic romance, but the heroines seem to all be single women in their early twenties. I always thought this was kind of funny given that the demographic of the readers seems to be middle aged, married women with children. Why can’t they be heroines too? Can’t a woman in her late thirties (or forties, or fifties) find passion and heat?

I started to look, expanding my search beyond Romantica to Erotica and did find some married women of a *certain* age looking to spice up their love life. Unfortunately, most of those stories involved finding love outside the bonds of matrimony, either in a threesome or a cuckold scenario. Yes, some of them were well written and hot, but I couldn’t identify. Cheating or crazy ménage with the neighbor was fine for a far-fetched fantasy read, but I wanted a story where I could put myself in the lovely shoes of the heroine. And I don’t mean Jimmy Choo’s either. I wanted a woman in love with her husband, trying to rekindle the spark that made them fall in love. I wanted them to be overworked, harried parents, who don’t live under the golden umbrella of a giant trust fund. I wanted a protagonist I could identify with, that women everywhere could identify with. Except, maybe more willing than most of us to take some risks in the bedroom. Naughty Mom was born.

Well, the idea was born. I’ve never written romance. I write urban fantasy. The kind with an Imp as the main character. Yes, she’s partial to the sin of lust, but the sex scenes, although steamy, were not explicit. Yes, there is romance, but it’s not the main theme of the series. I took a deep breath, and put pen to paper. (Figuratively)

The first Naughty Mom needed a re-write. I tend to be closer to a pantster as opposed to a plotter, so the first draft wandered a bit with murky motivations. By the time I wrote the second story, I knew where I was going with the series, the development I wanted, and the nuances of the relationship. That first story is out now – NAUGHTY MOM ON VACATION. The second story is almost ready to release: NAUGHTY MOM ORDERS ROOM SERVICE. March/April will see NAUGHTY MOM AT THE BOOK CLUB and NAUGHTY MOM FAILS THE TEST. Since I was sailing in uncharted waters, I enlisted a crit editor as well as a proofreader –something not often done with short stories.

Fifteen years of marriage and five kids doesn’t have to spell the end of romance, or loving, kinky fun with your husband. Naughty Mom is out to prove that.

And now here’s a teaser…

“What’s your biggest sexual fantasy?” I asked The Husband one day. We’d planned a trip to the islands, just the two of us, and I wanted to pack accordingly.

“Two women?” he asked, hopefully.

Nope. I’m not ready for that one. “Your second biggest sexual fantasy?”

He thought for a moment. “Mile high club.”

This surprised me. I know it’s a fantasy a lot of men and women have, but The Husband, for all his willingness to experiment, likes it in the bedroom. It’s not that he’s a prude. With children, there is an enormous risk that any activities taking place outside the locked bedroom will be observed by little, shocked eyes. I really don’t want to have to answer those questions about why Daddy is searching for his car keys in Mommy’s ‘personal parts.’ Still, that risk drives me wild. I’ve always gotten off on having sex where anyone could walk in and discover us. Mile high club it was.

I’m nothing if not a planner. Instead of the direct flight, I chose one with a layover in Puerto Rico, where the plane would be half empty. I carefully selected the worst seats in the plane—the ones all the way in the back. I calculated the optimal moment to make our move, and how to best achieve our goal in a miniscule airplane lavatory. There was a lot to consider. If the plane was too empty, the flight attendants would be down the aisles with their drink carts and back in record time, leaving us little opportunity to “seal the deal.” If the plane had too many people, we’d be interrupted (and caught) by other passengers lining up to use the bathroom while we were busy inside. I chose the best options and hoped luck would be on our side.

The Husband downloaded the itinerary the day before our trip and expressed annoyance at the layover.

“Was the direct flight full?” he asked. “Was it too expensive?”

“Trust me.” I took the papers from his hand and tossed them on top of the packed suitcase, then sashayed up to him and put my arms around his neck. “I’ve got it all planned. Just make sure you’ve got easy access to Mr. Happy.”

He pulled back in surprise. “Seriously? You’re really going through with this? We’re going to have sex on a plane?”

“Yes we are.” I wiggled against him suggestively. “We’re going to become card-carrying members of the Mile High Club.”

“Uh huh.” He snaked a hand under my shirt and rubbed up my back. I could tell he didn’t believe me. Boy, was he in for a surprise.

~~~

Naughty Mom On Vacation is available at Amazon and Smashwords. (Make sure you’ve got the adult content filter turned off on Smashwords or they’ll hide it from you.)

Debra Dunbar lives on a farm in Frederick County, Maryland with her family and a multitude of four-legged friends. Her urban fantasy novels feature supernatural elements in local settings. In addition to the NAUGHTY MOM stories, she also has published A DEMON BOUND, and SATAN’S SWORD, the first two novels in her Imp Series. Connect with her on Twitter @debra_dunbar on Facebook at debradunbarauthor, and on her website at http://debradunbar.com .