Melissa Snark's Blog: The Snarkology, page 122

The Cover Up

Mrs. Snark likes to park dead center in the middle of any available space. Unfortunately, Mrs. Snark shares a two-car driveway with Mr. Snark who--quite unreasonably--expects his wife to stay on her side of the center line.

However, Mr. Snark's expectations are not always the same as reality.

One Saturday, Mr. and Mrs. Snark swapped vehicles because the Snark men wanted to go skiing. Mrs. Snark and Miss Bear had a nice girls-only outing to the gym. Upon returning home, Mrs. Snark absentmindedly parked.

Dead center.

Middle of driveway.

Monday morning came, and Mrs. Snark could not find her vehicle in the driveway. Only Mr. Snark's car occupied the area in front of the garage.

"Where's my car?" Mrs. Snark asked her middle son.

"It's across the street," the boy said. "You parked in the middle of the driveway again. Mr. Snark said..."

Abrupt, telling silence fell as the boy cut his words short.

Mrs. Snark turned to the lad. eyebrows climbing. "What exactly did Mr. Snark say?" she asked sweetly.

His eyes darted around the room and he bit his lower lip, mumbling. "Nothing..."

Mrs. Snark's curiosity doubled. "What did Mr. Snark say about my parking?"

Easy enough to imagine: Mr. Snark has a vocabulary like a tramp steamer sailor.

Under pressure, the boy caved. "Nothing. He just said it annoyed him when you park in the middle of the driveway."

"Uh-huh."

Riight. Mr. Snark's angry vocabulary doesn't actually contain the word 'annoyed'...

Mrs. Snark tracked down Mr. Snark and confronted him without any children present. "What did you say to the boys about my parking this weekend?"

"I said that it really pisses me off when your mother parks in the middle of the driveway," Mr. Snark said. "Why?"

"The Middle Child tried to cover for you."

Mr. Snark looked thoughtful. "That's actually rather touching."

The Child Thief

I've finished my first round of polishing on my urban fantasy short story, "The Child Thief". I'm waiting on pins and needles to hear back from my second round of beta readers, but the suspense is just killing me. Seriously, I'm so excited that I'm itchy.

I received my cover yesterday so I'm going to share it.

 
My cover artist is Farah Evers. She's absolutely amazing. Highly recommended.

Author Spotlight: Joanne Stewart

 Please tell us about yourself and your writing.
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I’m a stay-at-home mom by trade, with two teenage boys. My husband and I have been married for sixteen years now, and we currently have two very spoiled dogs. I live in the Seattle area of Washington state. 
I write contemporary romance a bit more on the sweet and heartwarming side. I started writing when my boys were little. I’ve honestly lost track of time, but I think it’s been about twelve years now? It was a dream I had one morning that demanded to be written down. I became addicted to the process. My first book was published in 2010.
  
What inspired your current book?

A Second Chance at Forever was inspired by something I’d read online. It was a two or three sentence passage someone had posted on a message board. The main character was a woman who worked as a stripper and hated the job. My mind took this and ran. Being a romance writer, my first immediate thought, “What kind of heroine would work in a strip joint?” My heroine, Angela, stepped out and introduced herself to me. Angela told me she was a smart girl, works as IT specialist for a small company by day. She works as a stripper on the weekends to make extra money. Okay, now I’m intrigued.
Of course, I then needed a hero to counter her. Alex took a bit of coaxing. His name actually popped out at me in the pages of another book. I was re-reading an old favorite, Diana Galbandon’s Voyager. The hero in her book at the beginning uses an alias. He goes by the first name of Alex. At that point, my hero, Alex, sat down on the arm of my recliner and smiled at me. 


Blurb:Recently divorced and working two jobs, Angela Lewis has no room in her life for love. Yet when her childhood crush finds her at the nightclub where she works as the sexy stripper, Candy Cane, and expresses his interest, Angela can’t resist. She only wants one night to live the fantasy her alter ego provides.           Alex McKinley is still trying to pick up the pieces of his shattered life, and one night with Candy is exactly what he needs. He gets more than he bargained for, however, when he discovers she's the little sister of his best friend.  Suddenly little Angie’s all grown up and driving him crazy.
The more time he spends with Angela, the more Alex finds himself falling for the woman she’s become. She makes him want to live again. But can he convince her to take a chance on him?




Buy links:Amazon
All Romance ebooks
Barnes and Noble 
Sony
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The Wild Rose Press

Where you can find me on the web:Website Blog Twitter Facebook

Sleeping In Never Goes Unpunished

The kids had Monday off school, so Mrs. Snark slept in to the decadent hour of 8:30 a.m. She awakened abruptly to Mr. Snark and Miss Bear standing beside the bed.

"Mama, mama, mama," Miss Bear chanted, dancing around while waving a short cardboard tube.

Mr. Snark frowned and said, "Miss Bear used Curious George as cover to go on a crime spree."

"Whaa?" Groggy, Mrs. Snark gaped at the pair and wondered if she was having another one of those dreams.

"Miss Bear attacked the wrapping paper," Mr. Snark said, bending to gather up some mutilated Christmas paper.

"Urg." Mrs. Snark crawled out of bed and staggered into the bathroom.

"Mama, mama, mama," Miss Bear said.

"I had no idea she was gone," Mr. Snark said.

"There's a shocker," Mrs. Snark muttered between gritted teeth.

Mrs. Snark strengthened her resolve and got a drink of water. Then her foot encountered paper, so she looked down and saw a pile of unrolled toilet paper. A glance about the master bathroom revealed that a very short person had teepee'd the entire room.

"Miss Bear unrolled an entire roll of toilet paper to get to the cardboard tube," Mrs. Snark said, gathering up yards of paper. She shot her tiny daughter a dirty look.

Miss Bear peered back with one eye pressed to the tube and smirked.

"I had no idea she was so bad," Mr. Snark said.

Mrs. Snark eyeballed her husband. Riiight.

"She's two-and-a-half-years old," Mrs. Snark said. "Surely you must have had some clue by now."

"I had no idea she was being so bad right now," Mr. Snark amended.

Mrs. Snark said, "It'll be okay. I just need a cup of coffee and I can deal with anything."

"We're out of coffee," Mr. Snark said. "I came to tell you that I'm going to work."

Before Mrs. Snark could react, the man dropped a kiss on her forehead, kissed his dancing daughter goodbye, and ran for the door.

"Mama, mama, mama."

The Happily Ever After List by Mac Crowne

 As a young woman, I stood before the mirror in my childhood bedroom, admiring my oh-so-cool leg warmers and putting the finishing touches on my “big” hair. That brand new phenomenon, MTV, blared in the background while I primped for nights on the town with my girlfriends, giddy at the idea of spending the night dancing like it was 1999. Ah, the music, the excitement… the boys! The possibility of that night being the night I would finally meet The One and live happily ever after!
But alas, time passes quickly. Mom jeans have replaced the leg warmers and the hair, which is not so big anymore, would be liberally streaked with gray - if I didn’t beat it into submission once a month with a box of Nice-’n-Easy. As for happily ever after, yeah, I still believe in the concept. After all, I did eventually meet The One, and this year we’ll be celebrating thirty years of wedded bliss.
Hah! Chances are those of you who have been married longer than the length of the honeymoon are raising an eyebrow at the word bliss, because let’s face it, bliss is hard to come by when faced with the day to day realities of marriage. Honestly, is any woman blissful when picking up their One’s boxers from the bathroom floor? There have been many occasions in the past thirty years when I looked at The One and imagined myself as one of the Merry Murderesses from Broadway’s Chicago, declaring He ran into my knife. He ran into my knife ten times!
Yeah, I know. I’m weird. But I’m a writer. I can’t help imagining delicious scenarios I can never follow through on - unless I’m willing to do time. And if you’ve been married as long as The One and I have, admit it. You’ve imagined some of those scenarios yourself. So, what’s the secret to a successful marriage and happily ever after? There’s the popular list: Respect, give and take, communication, and commitment - but I have my own list. 
1. Know when to stand your ground.2. Maintain your sense of humor.And…3. Develop the art of subtle revenge.
Now, despite the Merry Murderesses reference, I don’t want to give you the wrong impression. The One and I rarely disagree, much less fight. The One claims this is because we’re friends as well as lovers. I attribute the usual peacefulness of our relationship to my aversion to conflict. I hate fighting and avoid it whenever possible. But The One is a guy, which means he occasionally does something so ridiculous, it simply can’t be ignored. When that happens, I survive the explosive fall out by sticking to my list. Case in point:
After accidentally dousing his sandwich with a heaping pile of pepper not long ago, The One promptly tossed the pepper shaker into the trash, announcing, “I’m sick of this d*%@ thing!” 
Seriously, he threw away the pepper shaker! Who throws away a pepper shaker? I mean, come on. It’s an innocent, inanimate object. If you have a problem with it, it’s a pretty sure bet the trouble is user error. Besides, it’s part of a set!
#1: Know when to stand your ground. “Well then,” I responded. “We don’t need this!”
Into the trash can went the salt shaker. Take that, buddy! I swear, his hair stood on end. He pinned me with narrowed eyes as he grabbed the first thing within reach. The tea kettle joined the innocent salt and pepper shakers in their absurd fate.
And  hello. Game on!
Dirty dishes and clean ones, silverware and countertop items, including a few small appliances, nothing escaped the whirlwind of angry passion gripping The One and me. Five minutes later, with a fine cloud of flour hanging in the air, sanity suddenly grabbed hold of me. Okay, the truth is I came to my senses when we couldn’t fit anything more in the trash can. I glanced around at the damage, but there was no way I could apply #2 at that moment. I was too ticked off! The man threw away a two hundred dollar blender, for heaven’s sake, and my kitchen looked like it had been ransacked! Because it had.
#3b: Add knowing when to utilize a cooling off period to the list. Sometimes getting away from your loving spouse is the only way to avoid doing time after all - with the added bonus of allowing you to regroup and come up with a workable plan for that subtle revenge I mentioned. I promptly went for a drive.
While I have my list, The One has his own. It consists of only two items. He believes in the power of persistence, and if that doesn’t work, he turns immediately to his own form of bribery. He’s such a guy. But I have to admit, he’s got skills when it comes to the suck-up gift - and he knows when to bring in reinforcements. The next morning, he enlisted our teenage boys in his ploy to charm me out of my mad. They disappeared for an hour and returned with a tiger striped kitten they claimed to have found foraging for food in a downtown parking lot.
Talk about a double whammy! I was toast and he knew it. But I ask you, how is a woman supposed to stay mad under those circumstances? It would take a much harder woman than me, that’s for sure. As we shared our morning coffee, his suck up gift lay curled up asleep in my lap.
“What are you going to name her?” he asked, looking far too smug for my liking.
I haven’t lived with the man for thirty years without knowing how to nip that kind of thing in the bud. I scratched at the kitten’s soft chin, smiled sweetly and replied, “Pepper, of course.”
Oh, please. You didn’t think I was going to forget #2 and 3, did you?  
So here’s my happily ever after advice. Stand your ground. A good man loves a woman who knows her mind. Laugh with him as much as possible, and learn the art of subtle revenge. You might just get a kitten out of it.
When Mac isn’t busy working on her own happily ever after, she spends her time weaving  HEAs for her characters, like Meggy Calhoun, the heroine of her latest contemporary romance, The Billionaire’s Con.
 Meggy Calhoun has too much on her plate to explore the shocking revelations in her birth mother’s letter. The success of Boston’s hottest new restaurant rests squarely on her shoulders, and her fascination with her hunky new tenant promises to take up all of her free time.
Trevor Bryce Christos would do anything to protect the woman who raised him; including seducing a beautiful con artist disguised as a chef, and bent on cashing in on his family’s wealth.
Under the microscope of small town interest, Meggy’s and Trevor’s opposing agendas soon have the townsfolk choosing sides, and betting on who will be the first to surrender the field, and their heart.


For more information on The Billionaire’s Con, as well as Mac’s other titles, visit her at mackenziecrowne.com , Twitter or Facebook .

Five Star Review of Home by Calisa Rhose

Home by Calisa Rhose
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Home is a heart-warming love story set in a small town in Oklahoma during the Vietnam War. The story strikes many chords on the right note, particularly a mood that evokes the feel of the era and the character—good and bad—of small town life. Calisa Rhose employs apt word choices to create an atmosphere that feels realistic and absorbing, from the phrasing of insults hurled at veterans returning stateside to colloquial sayings. The author pays a great deal of attention to details of the era—vehicles, clothing styles, politics, and culture.

Sam Callahan is a doctor returning to his hometown following a traumatic tour of duty in Vietnam. Once a popular teenager, he feels alienated from the people he used to identify with most closely. The descriptions of his PTSD are powerful and disturbing, and contain what feels like the author's comprehensive understanding of the condition. Sam is also a strong man and a highly empathic character that the reader can identify with and cheer on.

Poppy Tippen is Sam's opposite. She grew up as the bastard daughter of a gypsy in a small town that has ostracized her all of her life. Unfair and cruel things are said about her, making her an outsider, and yet she manages to maintain a positive outlook on life. Her zest and strength are admirable traits, and she offers Sam what no one else can—acceptance without judgment. The interaction between the hero and heroine is touching and moving, a sweet romance that brings a smile to the lips.

The plotline surrounding the cursed doll adds an interesting element to the story without ever detracting from the romance, which is front and center. Although short, no words are wasted. Home is a wonderful story about the redemptive power of love. It is a five star read all the way.


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Hiatus

The weekend was mixed. More bad than good.  The only real upside was that my new cook top finally arrived and got hooked up without further incident. Mr. Snark took the boys skiing on Saturday.

Mr. Snark is unhappy because his team got spanked yesterday.

My grandmother died during the Super Bowl. She lived in Arkansas and was ninety. My mother was with her when she passed. Due to the remoteness of my parents from airports and the arrival of Miss Bear, I haven't traveled much in the last three years. The last time we saw her was in June of 2009, right before Miss Bear was conceived in August.

I told my sons separately of her passing. My oldest boy was silent and clearly didn't know what to say. I said to my middle son, "You haven't seen her in a long time so you didn't really know her very well."

He said, "And now we never will."

His sensitivity makes me want to cry, because he really gets it.

I'm going to take a short hiatus to get myself emotionally centered again. I'm sure the blog will be back within a couple weeks but right now I'm not able to find the funny.

We Call Him R.J. Squirrel

Once upon a time, Mrs. Snark foolishly said, "I've always wanted a Siamese cat." It was a classic example of being careful what you wish for because it might just come true.

In October 2009, Mr. Snark said, "Do you still want a Siamese cat? I know where I can get a kitten for free."

Mrs. Snark stared at him with suspicion. "What's wrong with it?" she asked. "Purebred kittens are never free."

"Here's the thing..." Mr. Snark said.

The mother cat in question happened to be a purebred, show quality, papered lilac-point Siamese. Her ancestors had lived in temples and were only owned by royalty. Her owners were friends of Mr. Snark's parents.  

Unfortunately, mama kitty had one serious character flaw.  When in heat, she swam out to meet troop ships.


Now, as you can see from this photo, the cat we received looks more like a seal-point Siamese.

R.J. Squirrel
As mentioned in A Story About Arkansas, Mr. Snark's parents lived in Nowhere, Maryland. Mr. and Mrs. Snark are residents of Northern California, which meant certain transport difficulties arose in obtaining the kitten. 
Ultimately, the cheapest method proved to be airlines tickets, so one Friday night Mr. Snark boarded a red-eye flight into D.C.  There he spent two hours with his parents, who had brought the kitten to the airport via car. Then, without sleep, Mr. Snark turned around and boarded another coach class flight back to California with the kitten tucked beneath his feet.
Before the cat had even arrived, the Snark men were calling him "Rocket" after Rocky the Flying Squirrel.
Mrs. Snark protested: "It's dumb to name a cat before you've met it."
"According to my parents, Rocket is perfectly appropriate," Mr. Snark said. 
For once, Mr. Snark got to be right. The cat has one speed: fast. Squirrel also gets into endless amounts of trouble. He has broken multiple vases and trashed photo frames. His very presence irritates the hell out of our female cat, Clio. He brings Mrs. Snark presents--LIVE rats and mice--carried right into the house and dropped so they can escape and hide.
Rocket and Miss Bear really hit it off. They go on adventures together.  Neither child nor cat has a lick of sense or an ounce of self-preservation. I'm submitting photo evidence to show that I'm not making things up.

Miss Bear and Rocket in the trash
Miss Bear and Rocket in the shower
Rocket patrols our quiet residential neighborhood. He sits on fences and taunts dogs. He strolls along sidewalks and lounges in other people's yards. It has gotten so that he is recognized.

"Is that your cat?" a neighbor asked Mrs. Snark.

"Maybe," Mrs. Snark said. "What has he done now?"

"Oh, nothing," the neighbor said. "We just see him around. We call him the Mayor."



***
Rocket was the inspiration for Josie, my Siamese werecat heroine, in A Cat's Tale.

Review of "A Taste of Chocolate"

A Taste of Chocolate by Vonnie Davis
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

"A Taste of Chocolate" is a short but absorbing read and offers a pleasurable way to spend an hour. Heroine Hope Morningstar, having experienced two unpleasant breakups, has been unlucky in love. She is a sweet person but has a tendency to choose the wrong sort of man to trust with her heart. I actually found myself identifying more strongly with Hope's sister, Gracie, who was stronger and sassier.

When Hope gets lost on a drive, she winds up at Freya's Cafe, a mystical coffeehouse owned by a charming Irish lady who acts as a matchmaker, helping the deserving find their soul mate. I have a special fondness for the Norse goddess, Freya, and so I very much enjoyed the description of the cafe.

With a bit of help, Hope meets our hero, Declan, a military vet who has loved and been betrayed. Vonnie Davis handles the introduction of the romantic couple with a deft hand. Their interaction is engaging and enjoyable. "A Taste of Chocolate" is definitely a five-star read.

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When You're Bad...

When Miss Bear is good, family members automatically take credit for the tyke's accomplishments--no matter how trivial or mundane.

"Oh, yes, she's a musical genius!" gushes a grandmother as the little prodigy pounds away on her xylophone. "She gets it from me. I played the flute for two years in elementary school, you know."

But when Miss Bear is bad, everyone blames Mrs. Snark.

A frazzled Mr. Snark greets Mrs. Snark at the front door as she returns from an hour out of the house shopping. "Miss Bear upended two pounds of a dried pasta and a container of cat food while you were gone," he says. "While I was cleaning that up, she drew a mural on the bonus room door in green marker."

"Well, were you watching her at all or playing on your computer the whole time?"

Mr Snark glares and delivers the pièce de résistance. "She takes after you!"

Mrs. Snark doesn't see it. Admittedly, Mrs. Snark has a small dislike of rules and sometimes challenges authority. But really? Every fault of the baby universe resides with her as a result?

Miss Bear demonstrated her first dislike of authority around the age of twelve months. When told "no, don't touch" the baby tested the parent by extending one tiny index finger toward the forbidden item. She looked you straight in the eye, smirked and touched her fingertip to the no-no.

It's been like that ever since.

Mr. Snark's favorite sport is football. 

Mrs. Snark's favorite sport is baiting Mr. Snark--nothing is too outrageous if it gets a reaction from the man.

One weekend, Mr. Snark sat on the couch clutching a game controller in both hands.  Miss Bear crept up behind him holding a cardboard square. The child balanced the cardboard directly atop her father's head and then fled, giggling up a storm. 

Mr. Snark had to sit there with the thing on his head, because to reach for it meant instant character death. Instead, he bellowed and shook it off. "Stop it, Miss Bear!"

Mrs. Snark watched the process repeat three times. The more irate Mr. Snark grew, the funnier the game became to Miss Bear.

Finally, Mrs. Snark faced a reluctant realization. "Okay, maybe she takes after me a little."