Liv Rancourt's Blog, page 49

Keeping It Real

Today I am most fortunate to have a guest post from the lovely Sherry Isaac. She is an award-winning writer whose work sometimes takes her to unexpected places. Read on to see whether or not we can all truly call ourselves writers... E R, the two most important letters to awriter. Er can mean a lot of things to those who have chosen this professioncalled writing. Or has the profession chosen us?
Er, what should I blog about?Er, should I open my WIP, or watchGrey's Anatomy?Er, how will I build my platform? Er,should I build a website or blog? Er, plotter, or pantster?But the great E R is also a suffix. Bydefinition, one who writes is a writER. That is how the English language isconstructed. One who paints is a painter, one who counts is a counter, one whokisses is a kisser. The act of doing makes one a doer. So why is it that when a new, as yetunpublished writer confesses their craft, she is asked to support her claimwith a published book. No matter how much talent or promise, nomatter how many years spent learning the craft, no matter how many queries aremade, no matter how many partials or fulls are requested, no matter how closeshe has come, if a book can not be found on a shelf in the local bookstore withher name in bold letters on the cover, the pronouncement is made. "Oh, you're not a real writer," comes the verdict, through lips so pinched thespeaker might be sucking on lemons.I'm not? Really?Then from where, pray tell, did the reamsand reams of printed pages in my office come from?Embracing the phrase, I am a writer, is a risk. The confessionopens us up to scrutiny, people ask for proof, so until you score that NYTlabel, you may want to tread carefully, and be selective about whom you shareyour profession with. Ray Bradbury, in his address to to ThePoint Loma Nazarene University, shared this bit of advice:"Get rid of friends who don't believe inyou."Well. we may not have to go so far asgetting rid of friends. (I surely won't. Nerd that I am, friends are hard tocome by!) Some friends will come around, and learnto respect your title. They may become your greatest cheerleaders. But you maywant to prepare yourself, and appreciate that some friends can only see you forwho you are on their terms, not yours.So, what does this mean? Should you keepwho you are a secret?No way. The proclamation, I am a writer, can give you wings, validation, and the attitudeshift to take you from amateur to professional. It can take you from wishingyou might be published to knowing you will be. It can sit your butt in thechair and do the work. As writer, you create the characters, construct thejourney, build new worlds.And isn't that what the job is allabout?~Raisedby Nancy Drew and Jane Marple, Alice Munro Short Story Award winner andMaggie Finalist Sherry Isaac's novels and short stories weave the commonthread of everyday life, love and forgiveness into tales that transcend allthings, including the grave. Find Sherry on the web,follow her on Twitter,like her on Facebook andread her blog posts at Romance &Beyond.
Thanks Sherry! I feel so....VALIDATED...What do you guys think? Do you ever introduce yourself as a writer? or an artist? or a musician? And is it a comfortable fit?Peace,Liv 

Friday Fun

It's that time of week again! Are you ready for a little Friday Fun? ;)

This video is the funniest thing I've seen all week. It just is. It was put together by the brilliant forces behind the blog Rants from Mommyland and if you like the video, check out their blog because there's more where that came from. Have a fabulous weekend!
Peace,Liv

Where do you like to do it?

Hey gang!
This morning I'd like to welcome another of my fellow blogging students, Susi Nonnemacher. She's a Pennsylvania girl, born and bred, and her enthusiasm for writing and for reading have made the class a lot more fun. Here she's going to talk about her fave place to do it....
 
I love to read, as most writers do. My favorite place to read is on a beach--the sun beating down, the waves providing the background music. Actually, the beach is my favorite place to be even if I am not reading. :-)

 "Reading on the beach"

Unfortunately, I live in Pennsylvania, about two and a half hours from the closest beach. Even worse, there are only a few prime beach months each year, so I don't get to visit as often as I would like.In spring and summer, when not at the beach, I love to sit on our back patio to read (thank goodness for e-ink readers), but I didn't find that perfect reading spot for winter until recently.For Christmas, my husband and I bought a new sofa. It is a big, fluffy sectional. (We joke that I bought him one piece, and he bought me the other.)
:-)

  "I think Cami spends more time here than I do!"

Seriously, the corner of this sofa I ridiculously comfortable, perfect for snuggling in with a blanket, a great book, a cup of tea, and, of course, my cuddly pup, Cami.I read over 200 books on my first Nook before replacing it after 2 years (and a worn-out page turn). I am up to 8 on the new one (bought the week after Christmas), and most of that has been read in my new favorite reading spot. I wonder if I can wear my shiny new Nook out quicker than the first one? ;-) I hear there is a new one coming out in a few months.     "Justa little crack--but it still works! :-)"
Speakingof reading, it just started to snow;  I have a crystal-clear view outsidefrom my reading-spot, and a to-be-read list that is calling my name.
What'son your to-be-read list? Where is your favorite place to read?  Does itchange by season? Any must-haves when you are reading—a preferred drink, a pet?
Thanks so much, Susi! I know I always read better with a cat in my lap. What about the rest of you?Peace,Liv
S. M.Nonnemacher has loved reading for as long as she can remember. It didn't takelong for her to realize that she enjoyed creating her own stories as much asreading the creations of others.  Alifelong daydreamer, she sometimes claimed her "characters" as actual friends,especially when it meant getting her way with her parents. When not writing orspending time her beloved husband, she can be found with family and friends, ata community theatre rehearsal, at a minor league baseball game, or relaxingwith a cup of coffee or tea and a great book. You can find her on-line on the following sites: Facebookhttp://www.facebook.com/SMNonnemacher,  Twitter http://twitter.com/SMNonnemacher, and her blog/website http://SMNonnemacher.com.   

Fourteen years ago today...

Fourteen years ago today, I was 35 3/7 weeks pregnant with my first child. My day job's taught me to be specific about those things - every day during pregnancy makes a difference. My husband and I were planning to go away for the weekend, to have one last fling as a couple before becoming parents. We did, traveling to LaConner, WA, which is a little over an hour away from our home in Seattle. It's a beautiful little town in the valley, and our hotel room had a gas fireplace and a jacuzzi tub, my bare-bones necessities when traveling.

As flings went, it wasn't much. I had started a new job at 27 weeks pregnant (because really, is there a better time?) and I was tired. I spent most of the weekend in bed watching the Winter Olympics. Until Sunday morning, when I woke up, spent some time in the jacuzzi tub, and started having contractions. Our daughter was born four days later.

Which means that in four days, she's turning fourteen. I can't begin to describe the complex mix of emotions that dealing with her brings up in me. I love her, sure, but I'm her mother. Even better, I like her. When she's not making me want to tear my hair out. She's tall - like, two inches taller than me, and I'm almost 5'9" - and slender but not so skinny that I worry. She does a bang-on imitation of Mr. K, her eighth grade teacher, that I try to discourage because it's not terribly respectful but damn is it funny.

She's moving out of the soccer & kittens & puppies stage - her current obsession is Benedict Cumberbach and the BBC version of Sherlock Holmes. Last night the husband and I came  home from a meeting and she was sitting at the table, looking a little droopy. It seems she'd watched another movie featuring Mr. Cumberbach, and he'd died at the end AGAIN. Then she says, "Oh my God, he plays the dragon in The Hobbit. He'll die at the end of that one, too!"

Such is love when you're fourteen.

Did I mention she can sing? She's going to be a Mezzo like her Mama for sure.  ;) And she's an awesome artist. She made the piece that starts this post, using Microsoft Paint. She's going to be in high school next year - and if you've been following along with this blog, you know we're waiting (still) to hear if she gets into her school of choice. And after that, college.

Wow.

Just like every day of pregnancy can make a difference, so have her needs changed as she's grown. I feel like I'm stepping aside, letting her take the lead in her own life, and on some level I know that shift is going to continue. And that's okay. She'll have the chops to be the leading lady in her own drama. I just hope she ends up with someone a little less freaky-looking than BCumberbach.

Peace,
Liv

Madonna comes in second

So they played a football game yesterday. Did you notice? The only part I paid any attention to was the halftime show. I was at work, and while they don't pay me to watch football, I did seriously want to see Madonna, and the babies cooperated with my plan. A bunch of us were able to sneak away and watch, and it was awesome! So very cool. But that got me thinking about which was the best Super Bowl Halftime show I've ever seen. Madonna was very good, but I couldn't give her Number One. I came up with my top three, and for better or for worse, thought I'd share them with you.
#3. 2001 - Aerosmith with Britney and 'N Synch and Nelly and Mary J Blige (and anyone else in the house who could play an instrument). This one topped them all for the WTF factor alone. Why is that person on stage? and how did THEY get in? But they were all having a blast, and it was really fun to watch. I should preface that statement by saying that I was in a hospital call room, and I think I'd been taking a nap (in anticipation of a night spent chasing after deliveries) and I woke up just in time for the show, but my sleep-fogged brain really couldn't make much sense out of what I was seeing on the antique 24" TV. I do remember that watching Britney sing a verse of Walk This Way (a song that might have been written with her in mind) was surely something.

#2 2012 - Madonna with M.I.A., Cee Lo Green, LMFAO and Nicki Minaje (and some guy who could dance on a wire). Madge, you rock. There, I've said it. I've been a huge Madonna fan  since since 1982 when Borderline topped the Honolulu radio playlist. And you know what my first thought was when she was walking like an Egyptian all over the center of the stage yesterday? Wow, I hope the Black Eyed Peas are taking notes, because it is possible to put on a dance-influenced extravaganza without having it look like a mess. Seriously, though, I loved the songs she chose and I loved her dancers and I loved that she dressed her age (more or less) and I just loved the whole damned thing. And Gaga, I hope you took some notes too cuz someday it's going to be your turn.




So what could possibly top that? Only my other 1980's musical idol. I'll give you a hint.



Don't scroll down yet. You know you can guess who it is.
Okay, scroll...
#1 2007 - Prince. I can't remember if he had any guests on the stage or not. He sure didn't need them. Just a man and his guitar in his do-rag tempting fate by playing in the pouring rain on the biggest stage on earth. I cried. I've since looked on the interwebs to try to find a video, without any luck. It'll just have to live on in my heart as one of the coolest musical moments I can think of. Peace,Liv

Now what was your favorite Super Bowl Halftime show?


Giving credit where credit is due:
2001 Halftime show photo: http://sportsillustrated.cnn.com/multimedia/photo_gallery/0901/top.10.super.bowl.halftime.shows/content.5.html

Madonna Halftime show photo:
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2012/02/05/madonna-halftime-show_n_1256265.html#s665124

Prince Halftime show photos:
http://blogs.pjstar.com/eye/2012/02/03/a-look-back-super-bowl-halftime-shows/

Want some culture with that coffee?

 Hi guys! I'm very excited to play hostess to the wonderful Ellen Gregory, a writer from Melbourne, Australia. Ellen and I are taking a class together and we totally bonded over the fact that I recognized she was on email or Facebook or something in the middle of the night, Melbourne time. Heh. Like minds think alike, I guess. Now, Seattle's no slouch in the 'liveable city' department, but Melbourne is one of my favorite cities in the world. I'm going to step aside and let Ellen convince you of what a great place it is. Peace,Liv 
This will be a slight change of pace on the Liv Rancourt blog… because I'm here to talk about what it's like to live in the world's most livable city—Melbourne. I know you might have tuned in to hear about something more literary in nature, but if you've never been to Australia, perhaps I can entice you to visit. (For the record, I too am a writer, working on my first novel.)  Now to the world's most livable city. First of all, this is not an idle claim. Apparently Melbourne was indeed nominated by The Economist as the world's most livable city for 2011. Yes, OK, it's very subjective, but it's not the first time we've made it to the top of the list, despite Vancouver having held the mantle for the last decade. Melbourne is indeed a great place to live.  One of my favorite aspects of Melbourne is the café – and coffee – culture. It isn't until you travel to other parts of the world that you realize how something you take for granted is indeed unique. It's not the presence of the cafes, it's the style and the vibe. For the most part they are independently owned, as opposed to chains or franchises. Starbucks has failed here. There is simply too much awesome competition – cafés with quirky and unique décor, innovative cuisine, individual character...


To get a 'coffee' in a Melbourne café means without fail an espresso with or without milk – unless you're somewhere really fancy that offers coffee prepared in a gazillion different ways like one of my locals. My standard order is a 'Large Skinny Flat White' – which means two shots of coffee in a large cup or mug with steamed skim milk. There is no drip filter coffee to be found in a café anywhere (at least, not that I've seen). Our coffee is strong and smooth and aromatic and flavorsome. On a recent trip to San Diego, I worked out that I needed to ask for an extra shot of coffee in my Starbucks, for it to taste more like 'Melbourne coffee'.  Mmmm, I think I'd better go make myself a coffee with my nifty Nespresso machine… (The George Clooney adverts worked!)   The good cafés in Melbourne offer all-day breakfasts (brekkies), and this is my absolutely favorite thing. I'm lucky enough to live in a neighborhood with a host of fabulous cafes, and a friend and I share ourselves among them from week to week. Most Saturday mornings will find us at one of four or five places, always ordering a Large Skinny Flat White and usually ordering some concoction of eggs. I tend to go for scrambled or poached, with sides of mushrooms, spinach or tomatoes… or French toast. I love French toast! One of our favorite brekkies is called 'The Olive Bread Brekky', which has bacon and avocado and fresh tomato slices and poached eggs on toasted olive bread… Yummy.  Around a year ago I travelled a bit in Europe – France, Spain, the UK and Germany – and was greatly fascinated by the differences in coffee/café culture. In each country, working out the best way to take my coffee was a new adventure.   But I digress… and I seem to have spent a lot of time talking about coffee and cafés. Oops. It's because I'm a writer of course. Which reminds me of something I haven't mentioned, which is my love of writing in my local cafés! Sometimes I just need a change of scene, a 15 minute walk, a spot of lunch (eggs!), and I toss my baby netbook into my satchel and hike off to the local for a few hours. (I also have a penchant for meeting fellow writers for pub sessions, which is another story entirely…)  There are lots of other great aspects of Melbourne that I've run out of space to cover. But I am fairly certain that our cafés and our coffee must be directly responsible for us being nominated the world's most livable city. Don't you think?   But just in case you're not convinced, I'm willing to take questions. What else would you like to know?









To hear more from Ellen about Melbourne and many other subjects, leave questions in the 'comments' or check her out on her blog, http://ellenvgregory.com/.;)

Friday Fun

It's been one of those weeks, where so much has gone down that Friday morning finds me unable - or maybe just uninterested - in firing the creative pistons. The book promo and the blog tour and the deadline and the WANA112 class (that I'm lovin' but wow the time and energy) and the kids and the husband and the day job; TGIF, man. That's all I can say. So for everybody else out there who hasn't got a lot left this Friday morning, I offer you the opportunity to laugh. This is Literal Video's version of Total Eclipse of the Heart. Watch it with a straight face. I dare you.
Peace   ;)
Liv

Decadent Seconds

This morning I want to welcome W. Lynn Chantale, a lovely author that I met through Still Moments Publishing. She's here to talk about her newly released short, Decadent Seconds. Now, I haven't had the opportunity to read her new piece, but Mistletoe Mamba, her contribution to Christmas Treats: Santa's Naughty List has one of the hottest tango scenes I've ever read. Yum! Lynn has been gracious enough to host me on her blog a couple of times, despite my PG rating, and now I'm thrilled to have her here. Please welcome her and check out her newest work.
Peace,
Liv


PS - Lynn's promised to give away a $15 gift card to one lucky person from the comments. It's a winner's choice card - Amazon, Barnes & Noble, or ARe. So let us know you've been here, okay?


Hi Liv, thanks so much for hosting me today. I can keep thingsPG. :-)
Why I Own a Potato Peeler  ...              Until last year I never owned apotato/vegetable peeler. I've always used a knife, paring, steak whatever topeel potatoes. Stay with me here, because I've got to explain something. I'malso a sucker for sharp knives, I have a degree in culinary arts and the firstthing I learned was sharp knives require less force to use. So I purchased athree knives ( a paring, a chef's knife and a cleaver) from an extremelyreputable company and eagerly waited for them to arrive in the mail.Knives arrive. I can't wait. Yes, I knowthey're sharp I watched the demo where a penny was cut in half and then a sheetof paper. Oh yeah that sharp. So I peel my first potato cradled in the palm ofmy left hand as I've always done. No problem. Quarter the sucker. No big. Yes,I'm taking my time, my eyes never leave my task. The second potato slips whileI'm quartering, but nothing major.So third potato, yep potato slips whileI'm quartering and I slice a two inch gash in my left index finger. I know someof you already figured out where this was going, but geesh... I've got to tellit. The first words out of my mouth were "I need to go to urgent care."While my sons and husband are panicking.I love them dearly, but I'm the only calm rational one at the moment, despitelaughing my fool head off. My then 16 y/o son whips the car around likes he'sbeen driving everyday for the last 20 years and off we go to the emergencyclinic.So now I have 6 or 7 stitches in my poorfinger, but I can still type. I know I should've been more concerned about thatcut. What can I say, I'm a writer. When I come back for follow up the doctorlearns I have some numbness in my finger. Let's just say when I cut something Ido very well. I severed the tendon and a nerve. Please, no applause. Did youknow the interior of the finger has all the nerves? I do. So outpatientsurgery, 4 weeks in a cast, 4 months of physical therapy and my finger is goodas new. Almost.I know you're dying to know if I stillown that knife. Yes, I do. For a few months my youngest would hide it from me.Do I use it? Of course, but now I slice and quarter potatoes on a cuttingboard.As for the potato peeler, the kids useit.
When I'm not testing the sharpness ofknives, I can be foundWebsite: http://wlynnchantale.comBlog: http://wlynnchantale-decadentdecisions.blogspot.com/Twitter: https://twitter.com/#!/wlynnchantaleFacebook: http://www.facebook.com/W.LynnChantaleAuthorUntil next time, Indulge Your InnerRomantic.



Blurb: As a caterer, Darling gets to witness some of life's happiest moments, but yearns for a marriage proposal of her own. After years of waiting on her beloved to pop the question, she gives up on ever having a happy ending of her own and severs the relationship. When she learns she's pregnant, she has no choice but to face her child's father on a daily basis as well as the love and attraction she has for him.Darryl Manning always believed Darling would be his forever. After all he didn't need a piece of paper to show her how much he loved her, but when she leaves him to pursue her dream of owning a catering company and raising his son, he may have to rethink his views on marriage. That is if he wants a second chance at family. Excerpt:Drunken laughter floated just above the thrumming bass lineof Lenny Kravitz's Are You Gonna Go My Way, competing with the steady buzz ofconversation. Soft pastel strobe lights flickered through the mutedillumination. Darlene Williams, or "Darling" as she was known to friends andassociates, surveyed the banquet hall full of guests.She heaved a sigh as she glimpsed a swirl of ivory on thedance floor. For one wistful moment, where fairytales glowed bright and rosy,she imagined her own wedding. Her fairytale didn't have a happy ending. Shesighed again. Or a beginning.A familiar face bobbed in the crowd, and her breath hitched.Twice he tried to take her picture, and she was determined he wouldn't succeed.His gaze found hers, and her heartbeat matched the pounding bass line. Heturned away, and she focused on a set of broad, muscular shoulders. She couldspend hours smoothing her hands over his brawn. When he found her again, thecorners of his mouth creased, and a familiar tingle crackled through her veins.Just once she'd like to not react when she saw him. Despitethe warmth knocking at the wall of her heart, Darling followed his movements toa group of similarly clad women. When they clustered around him, he raised hisNikon to his rugged face.She loved his face, all angles and planes, and all thatsharpness melted away when he smiled. Sadness and longing wiggled through acrack in her wall and squeezed her heart. They weren't meant to be. Still shestared after him, envying the way he leaned close to one woman and lowered hiscamera. He gave a nod before moving away. When he passed beneath a wall sconce,the warm glow gave his smooth brown skin the fine sheen of melted chocolate. Heshould've been out of place in his black polo shirt and khaki slacks as hemoved among the tuxedoes and long dresses, but his sexy smirk and camera madethings easy.The discordant clash of a body colliding with cymbals andsnare drum drew Darling's attention toward the dais next to the dance floor. Aglassy-eyed young man in a tux tried to untangle his limbs from the instrumentwithout spilling his drink. Succeeding, he then lurched onto the crowded dancefloor and crashed into a couple of dancers. She shook her head when he sprawledon the floor, still trying to drink from the glass in his hand.Not her problem. Darling regarded the decimated buffet, thefood reduced to crumbs and half-dried globs of gravy—this was her problem.Swiping sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand, she lifted her gazeagain, this time scanning the room for the tall, sexy photographer. He was nowtaking pictures of the drunk on the floor. Good, she didn't want to run intohim or his camera again. Turning, she hefted the silver chafer by the handlesand placed it on the rolling cart behind her.She reached for the next chafer, moving the serving spoonaside when strong hands seized her shoulders. The spoon slipped from her grasp,splattering white sauce on her black slacks, before settling on the floor. Asensuous chuckle tickled her ear, sending warmth scurrying through her veins,and puckering her nipples. Yanking free, she spun around to glare into darkchocolate eyes. She shoved the owner of those eyes and straightened herclothes. He laughed softly, his gaze drifting leisurely over her white chef's coatand work pants.Darryl Manning, the sexy photographer, grabbed her hand andgently tapped the thick bandage wrapped around her index finger. "What did youdo to your finger?" She tugged her hand from his grasp, wincing when shesmacked the digit on the chafer. "I cut it." She bent to retrieve the spoonfrom the floor, straightened, and placed the utensil in a gray plastic tub.Darling wiped her hands on a towel. Darryl folded well-tonedarms across his broad chest, the black knit shirt he wore strained toaccommodate the expansion of muscle. She stifled a groan and the urge to runher fingers along the bulging biceps and perfect pecs. Why did her body picktoday to rebel? "I don't have time for this now," she snapped, "What do youhave time for?" His rich baritone conjured nights of hot, steamy sex anddecadent morning afters. He lifted his camera, with a sexy smirk. "Maybe aphoto or two?"She resisted the seductive note in his voice and placed herhand on the lens. "I'm working.""And I'm not, just finished." He stepped closer, the heat ofhis body instantly warming hers. Darling tilted her head back to maintain eyecontact.She studied his face, waiting for the familiar ache andlonging to subside. It didn't. Being this close to him, surrounded by his scent,a little soap and a whole lot of male, made her yearn to be in his arms, tofeel his full lips against hers. What was she doing? She couldn't think abouthim, about them. She moved away. Not today.Darling turned as the click-click-click of his camera capturedher. Huffing, she stalked toward the kitchen. She caught the attention of Pete,one of her chefs for the evening. "Could you finish breaking down the buffettable while I take care of this?" She jerked a thumb to the hunk at her heels.Light flashed in her face, momentarily blinding her, and she held a hand to hereyes, blinking to clear her vision. "Don't do that!"Moving through the kitchen to a narrow staircase, she heaveda sigh as the pulsing rock music faded to a dull roar. Darling entered heroffice and smiled at the young man seated in a chair. "Thanks, Denny," shesaid. He was another employee, and she waited until he closed the door.Darling knelt next to a car seat and dropped a kiss on thesleeping infant's cheek. White light zigzagged before her eyes. "Stop it!" shesaid."But you're so beautiful," Darryl said.Her stomach did a slow somersault at the compliment, but hewould need more than pretty words and his handsome face to woo her.Straightening, she shoved a diaper bag in his general direction. "I have twomore weddings, a funeral, and an awards banquet. You trying to flirt is not ontoday's calendar!"Darryl offered her a smile and her knees turned to jelly.The man would be the death of her. The only reason she still spoke to him wasthe sleeping toddler. If not for the baby, she'd have kept walking and neverlooked back.She brushed a stray curl from her face and planted her handon her hip when Darryl didn't move. "I know you may not have anything to do,but I really need to get back downstairs," she reminded him.He stepped closer, reaching a hand to tug on the lock ofhair she had just swept away. She sucked in a breath, his clean masculine scentbeguiling her. Her gaze dropped to the open collar of his shirt. If she pressedher mouth to his warm skin, would he moan? Darling lifted her head, and he mether lips with a kiss. Too stunned to protest, she sank into his kiss, savoringthe spicy taste of him and the firmness of his lips. He skimmed the curve ofher spine with his hands before resting them at her hips. Drawing her closer,he brought her against the hard line of his arousal. Desire exploded, and shewiggled her hips in hopes of easing the sudden tension at the apex of herthighs. As if sensing her need, he cupped her butt, shifting her slightly untilhe was wedged between her legs.Lightning arced through her veins as he settled more firmlyagainst her core. She gasped, and he deepened the kiss, tongues dueling in afevered dance. Tightening her arms around his neck, Darling relished thesensations vibrating through her system, and decided to enjoy them.Lifting his head, Darryl stared into her face. For once shedidn't care if he knew how much she wanted him, her fingers stroked the nape ofhis neck. She regarded him a moment before he brushed his lips across hers onelast time before stepping away."I like flirting with you." He trailed his fingers down herarm.And with those few words he ruined the mood. She drew aragged breath into her lungs and shoved his hand aside. How could one littlekiss leave her so edgy and uncomfortable? She couldn't give in to the demandsof her body. She needed a clear head.Whispers: http://whispershome.com/romance/decadent-seconds/Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Decadent-Seconds-ebook/dp/B007228MRW/ref=sr_1_4?ie=UTF8&qid=1327677892&sr=8-4Website: http://wlynnchantale.comBlog: http://wlynnchantale-decadentdecisions.blogspot.com/Twitter: https://twitter.com/#!/wlynnchantaleFacebook: http://www.facebook.com/W.LynnChantaleAuthor

Bonded By Crimson

Today I want to welcome a special guest, author Zrinka Jelic. Saturday isn't usually a guest-post day for my blog, but I'm making an exception because it's the release day for her novel Bonded By Crimson. I've gotten to know Zrinka through the Black Opal Books author's discussion list, and she's a lovely person. I'm very excited that she's here, sharing some of the influences that went in to the creation of her new novel.Peace,Liv
1. From the description of the story you sent me, I can tell you've pulled from Croatian traditions that give the book a unique feel. Can you talk a little about what influenced you as you developed the story? 

The story that was swiming in my head and the final prouct are two totally different things. My original plot wasn't catching on with my critique partners so I changed it and as I did, I remembred a tragic love story often compared to Romeo and Juliet. So I've got the idea to make my heroine obsessed with this story and she often imagined what would it be like if they were allowed to love eachother. What she didn't know was the couple continoued to live after their deaths, but centuries later another tragedy struck them and now the man is a widower and a single dad. This also opened a possibility for a prequel which I'm working on.It was challenging to write the descriptive passages in Croatia without making it read as if it's a travelogue. But my crit partners wanted me to describe it better, they said the readers would want to see it. But if I went into too much deail then I sounded as a page from a history book. So I had to think of how I viewed it while I lived there. Playing hide and seek on the remains of a accent Roman Forum, climbing the medeval defense walls, how to describe it to someone who never done it? But that was normal part of growing up for me. 


2. One of your key scenes involves a coffee reading. Have you ever had a coffee reading done?

Yes, I had it done and I've done it for others. This is such a part of our culture, something to pass time with. At first I faked it as everyone else did. Not every symbol have a meaning so it is ok to make something up. But it is not hard to learn the symbols and it is funny how different people will see different things. But it is creepy when someone who sees you for the first time can read your life from a tiny cup. 


3. Which authors do you like to read? Are there any that particularly inspire you? 
When I was in high school, I devoured Danielle Steel. But after a while, her books started to feel the same. Then I've got into anything with vampires. So Anne Rice was high on my list. Then I was into Highlanders and that is how I learned about RWA through Mary McCall. As you can see, I like to read any author, but for the past year I've been into Arthuro Perez Reverte and his Alatriste series. It's not a romance, but I always find romance in every book. A few inspired me but what I don't like is when I read enough of that particular author's work I just know what the next book is going to be likeBut many authors seem to get comfortable in their style and would not change. I like to expect the unexpected.

4. How do you juggle writing with all your other commitments?
I'm a staying at home mom so I have time in between house work and kids. My youngest napped at the wrong time, so I spent many late nights waiting for him to tire enough so I can put him to bed. It was in those quiet hours of the night, that ideas came to me. Thankfully, he's dropping those late afternoon naps and we make it to bed in a semi-decent hour. In the mean time, we got rid of cable TV. Kids weren't watching it and neither did I. You can't believe how much you can accomplish if you don't stare at the television every night. But I discovered I am an Internet junkie and I wasn't aware of this until one day the Internet was out. 

5. Living in Canada, what do you miss most about Croatia? 
The sea, I'm from the province of Dalmatia on the Adriatic Sea and my family is from island of Essa. You can take an islander from the island, but you can't take island from an islander. I miss the summers there spent on the beaches, and in the evenings met with the friends and sip cocktails till wee hours. I can't comare it to the cottage life here. The lake waters here are ice cold and murky. Mosquitos eat you alive as soon as you poke your nose out, it gets cold once sun goes down.It's not a summer if I have to pull a sweatshirt and socks on. 


6. Where would your dream romantic vacation take you? 
Anywhere where there are beaches (not sandy, can't stand sand in my bathing suit), stunning sunsets, crystal clear sea, endless sky, warm breezes playing with the trees


7. Cats or dogs? Which do you prefer?  
;) My favorite movie is Cats and Dogs, and I just love Mr. Tinkles. "Catz rule". So, definatevly cats, but I'm very alergic, so that leaves me with dogs. I can't stay around a cat for more than a few minutes even if I don't touch them. Once the itching starts it's time to leave. 




Bonded By CrimsonLoveisn't in the cards for Kate. After her short failed marriage she's trying torebuild her life and finds herself nursing the three lovely boys of Mr. Zrin. Aman, whose idea of fatherhood is non-existent. Her efforts to bring the bestout of this reluctant father are mysteriously supported by a being she cannotgrasp. It takes a trip to her hometown in Croatia and an evening full of coffee-readingwith her old friend to find out that there's an earthbound spirit attached toKate.
Forthe past six years, Matthias Zrin has been trying to follow his dead wife'surging to change his ways and become the father she always wanted him to be.Not an easy task for a three centuries old immortal. His search for theultimate nanny ends when Kate Rokov stumbles to his home and into his arms. Theimmediate attraction he feels for Kate sets him off. He isn't prepared to letgo of the love he harboured for one woman for over three hundred years. Butwhen Kate offers him her loving smile, everything he clung to in the pastbegins to tumble and break down on him.  
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Heclaimed to be immortal, but that was ridiculous...wasn't it?
Kate's heart hammered. Theexperience seemed so real. A low moan escaped her and she bit her lip. Soonwarmth surged through her, causing her body to go limp. Her legs gave wayunderneath her, but Matthias—or whoever this man claimed to be now—wrapped hisarm around her waist. His sweet, musky scent clung to her. Ecstasy filled herand she felt as if she hovered in the air. If he intended to kill her likethis, she could imagine no better way to die. A voice echoed through her mind,speaking of undying love in centuries old Croatian."Wake up," he whispered closeto her ear, his strong arms still locked around her."I don't want to." Her headwobbled, exuberant with sheer happiness, a kind she had never experiencedbefore."You must." He stroked herhair with tender fingers. "Wake up now.""No. I want to stay like this.Forever." She focused on his handsome face staring at her through her haze.His smooth cheek brushedagainst hers. "Me too, but you must wake."The fog lifted and his image appeared,clearly now. She blinked once. Twice. What had happened? She pushed away fromhim and flattened her back against the wall."You, you—""You," he said, pointing ather, "asked for proof."


ZrinkaJelic lives in Ontario, Canada, with her husband and two children. A member ofthe Romance Writers of America and its chapter Fantasy Futuristic &Paranormal,as well as Savvy Authors, she writes contemporary fiction—which leans towardthe paranormal—and adds a pinch of history. Her characters come from all walksof life, and although she prefers red, romance comes in many colors. Given Jelic'slove for her native Croatia and the Adriatic Sea, her characters usually findthemselves dealing with a fair amount of sunshine, but that's about the onlybreak they get. "Alas," Jelic says, with a grin. "Some rain must fall ineveryone's life."

Friday Fun

These days it's been all-vampires-all-the-time around here. I guess that's what happens when you have a book come out and your romantic hero is undead. I've been kicking out posts for a variety of lovely people who have been willing to share their blog space to talk about the book, and getting all those blog posts right has taken some research. I mean, I don't want to keep repeating the same goofy misinformation, right? (Sparkly vampires, anyone?) 


In the course of my research I was reminded of the following video, which Snoop Dogg released right before the start of True Blood Season 3. It is a classic, and one of the most convoluted pop-cultural mash-ups I know of. Check it out:


Now, answer me this...is he right? ARE vampires the new uberbadboys? Do women need to be reminded to look for a guy with a pulse?
Have a great weekend!
Peace,
Liv