It’s 4:54 a.m., do you know where your husband is?

Mine is lost somewhere in the bowels of Wikipedia, as he is every night (morning) when I roll over in bed and blink at the empty space beside me. When I quiz him about being awake so late, he replies he lost track of time after he started clicking links.

Do you have this experience at Wikipedia? I usually go, find the info I want, find a link to a more reputable source, and move on with my life. I can see how the site can function as an endless-possibilities “Choose Your Own Adventure” tale, though.

So an experiment for me. Because it’s so hot on the east coast this year, and our site is so smokin’ itself, I grabbed the first fire-related link I saw, which happened to be an entry about 2010 Russian Wildfires (I’m embarassed to admit it didn’t occur to me Russia might experience wildfire disasters).

From there, a link to the term Siberian High caught my eye (not what I expected at all).

And then I clicked off to Arctic Dipole Anomaly, which is a very brief article followed by a very long list of fascinating-looking links. I picked 2010 Eruptions of Eyjafjallajokull (which I remember hearing about but like everything unrelated to my current WIP, went in one ear and out the other), which led me to the 1783 Eruption of Laki (another Iceland volcano).

From 1783 I click ahead to 1816, the Year Without a Summer (clearly not this year…ugh), which, according to Wikipedia speculation, led to the invention of the velocipede.

And…that’s where I jumped ship and clicked away from Wikipedia, finally landing at The Velocipede Museum, concluding a pleasantly no-charge excursion.

Where has Wikipedia taken you lately?

10 Year Old’s First Flushing Toilet

Last week, my 18-year-old coworker (we’ll call him, uh, Tad) delivered* water to a 10-year-old (we’ll call her Marie) and her parents, who themselves had never lived with running water. He said the most rewarding part of the experience was the little girl’s delight as she flushed the toilet and watched water spin down the drain.

Tad spent the week in Tennessee, not in a third-world country.

The writer in me immediately started asking questions. Poor Tad, staring back at me as I asked, What do you mean, they didn’t have running water? Didn’t Marie go to school? Could she read? Did her parents work? Were they living on a farm of some sort? What kind of personality do you develop if you have no exposure to the world beyond your parents? What is her life going to be when she’s 18 or 25? Where is she going to meet someone to share her life with?

Ten years. Never in her entire life had Marie been behind a student desk, written a book report, or had a friend (according to Tad, no neighbors). Tad couldn’t help with my speculation – he just shrugged at my questions, with “I don’t know” kinds of answers, and told me he didn’t ask questions because he wasn’t there to judge, he was there to give her water. (I felt a need to explain my questions as writer curiosity, not snooty judgement.)

From a human compassion standpoint, I’m stunned and humbled (I’m not allowed to call myself “poor” ever again) and so very grateful for people like Tad who decide to leave their comfortable lives and their straight-into-college futures in order to join an organization like the Peace Corps, which is where Tad is bound provided his application is approved. (I’m grateful people who go to school and learn trades; giving of yourself in order to help better someone else is a remarkable thing regardless.)

From a writer standpoint, I’m fascinated and excited. I want to write Marie a fairytale prince and a life like the life I’ve known, complete with praise from educators and the jealousies and friendships of other kids. I want to create a person who’s lived life this way in the 21st century (because that’s where she’s been, her entire life) and really discover the kind of person she is, what inspires her imagination, how she releases curiosity.

From a reader standpoint, I desperately want her to have a hero and a happy ending no matter how humble it might be. Maybe Tad can go back to Tennessee in 10 years when Marie is an adult. He could scoop her up and carry her off and present her with her first sunset witnessed from the perspective of a Carribean beach bungalo instead of an Appalachian mountain trailer.

What a remarkable source of heroes and heroines I’d never even thought of before. If you want to discover them, too, here’s a link to Peace Corps Journals – a whole collection of blogs by people like Tad.

*delivered = dug the trenches, put down pipe, installed plumbing, rewired electricity, etc, to get water from a creek on the side of a mountain to the trailer that housed this family.

Blogging from Conference

Well…Symposium. And non-conference. This week and weekend, I’m educating myself with a variety of workshops arranged by Savvy Authors and presented in the Savvy Authors Symposium, as well as workshops organized by Romance Divas and presented in the Not Going to Conference Conference.

Workshops-wise, I’ve decided I prefer the online format. I’m getting much more for my $30 than I got for my $475 at RWA Nationals, partly because I learn better from the written word than from the spoken word. And partly because I’m not missing out on one workshop by choosing to participate in another – I can multi-task, jumping from topic to topic, whereas the physical event would leave me committed to one room and one room only.

The virtual bar’s not quite as hopping as the Nationals conference bar, but if I had as many real drinks as I’ve consumed virtually, I’d be passed out in my Disney hotel room missing everything anyway.

Some highlights from the NGTCC:

I won something! Soul Stealer by Kimberly Troutte won’t get bent up in my suitcases on the return flight.

I’ve gotten to chat a teensy bit and soak up authorial goodness from Joey W. Hill and James Buchanan and while I haven’t participated in the steampunk workshop, I’m happy to have it all saved for future reading.

From the Savvy Authors Symposium:

I haven’t won anything yet, but I have hope.

I started the event with an a.m. chat presented by Rory Miller, who just might be my new Internet and hero research obsession. Can’t wait to get my hands on his book MEDITATIONS ON VIOLENCE and I’ve already penciled his next workshop on my calendar.

I learned three words that have totally made my week: “erotic category romance.” Thank you Laurie Saunders, editor of Black Velvet Seductions.

And I’m not, but I might after lurking on the “What Kind of Private Eye Are You Writing?” workshop hosted by two working PIs.

Additionally, I’ll be able to go back and peruse workshops on muse-feeding, series-building, deep POV, pitching and blurb writing…in general, well worth the money to me.

Best part? I haven’t had to wear shoes for anything.

Spending a few days haunting the Savvy Authors Symposium has inspired me to sign up for a few more workshops coming up, including undercover op info, how to make book trailers, and…something else I know I paid for but don’t remember. They have an interesting and diverse lineup and I’m already picking the workshops I want to participate in as distant as November 2011.

Neither the NGTCC nor the Symposium are over quite yet. I’m off to make the most of the last couple days.

The Last of the Pearl, CO Carvers and My First M/M (And More)

Ethan Carver (All the Trees in Pearl) wasn’t supposed to be the start of a mini-saga. His story was supposed to be a quick foray into sexy historical westerns, which I’d never written before. In and out, move on to the next time period, subgenre, and set of characters.

Yeah, not so much. The Carver family decided they had a bigger story than I had in mind. Too much time passed, then Ethan’s sister Collette (All the Women in Pearl) finally gave up her perspective. After that, while waiting for baby brother James to start talking, I found a few people connected to the Carvers had some passion of their own to explore (Interlude in Pearl).

When, a year after I wrote Collette’s story, James still hadn’t talked, I really began to worry I’d have to leave the whole thing unfinished. I’d brainstormed and outlined and created three different women for James but he didn’t want any of them. No, instead of Astrid, instead of Lily, James wanted Max.

Once I said “fine” to Max, All the Secrets in Pearl fell out of my brain over the course of two weeks (thank God). Last Monday, I signed the contract and picked the cover art, and hopefully soon, I’ll have a release date.

In the meantime, my friend Seeley has launched a new blog, Naked Romance, and the inaugural nakedness belongs to Ethan. I hope you’ll click over for a teensy excerpt and to say hello to Seeley – and I hope you’ll check back during the next month or so for more information about the release of All the Secrets in Pearl.

While you’re at Naked Romance, look around and send Seeley an email. If you’re a writer, your mantitty could be up next!

Free Books for All

If you’re willing to drive to Baltimore and spend a few hours in awe at The Baltimore BookThing, not only will you find free books, you might also find treasure.

Located in, um, the ghetto (I say as a county resident, as opposed to a city resident), the BookThing is something that really should be experienced by anybody who believes all people should have access to books. I speculate the founder is/was one of those folks who believes in literacy and book availability because what other kind of person would set up shop in a pink-painted warehouse that turns away no book donation that crosses its step? (If you’re one of those people too, the BookThing website has donation instructions.)

Lucky me, one of those donations turned out to be my kind of treasure.  Ok, many of those donations turned out to be my kind of treasure but I was in such awe when I walked in, I got a little overwhelmed and barely moved out of the romance section. I took pictures, though, because I knew I’d have trouble getting past the “eee!” factor of being surrounded by free-damn-books. FREE. (Tell me when I say that too much.)

(Pictured: What you see as you walk through the door.)

I discovered my treasure by accident. Overcome by fits of OMGHolyShitBooksIReadIn1992, I started grabbing paperbacks off the shelves – three at a time, with wild thoughts of some sort of three-themed BookThing blog in my head (the three-themed BookThing blog, according to my fantasy, was going to make me famous on the Internet). The first three books I yoinked (um, which upon review of my photos, I realize were actually four instead of three):

Aren’t they beautiful? Dare I say, glorious? And if I may date myself, totally before my time?  But the awesomeicity didn’t stop there. As I put books back on the shelf (before remembering I could just drop them in my bag and take them with me WITHOUT PAYING FOR THEM), my eye slid to the left and I might have squealed out loud, because this? Yeah. This has been eluding me for 20 years. But no more is it tucked away beside an old Connie Mason Australian novel (not the one that led me to my favorite poem, which is another blog altogether). No, now it is mine. All mine. And my Laurie McBain collection is completed by a title as fantastically fanciful as DARK BEFORE THE RISING SUN.

I left the Connie Mason behind. It wasn’t Thalia’s book so I wasn’t very interested. Anyway, that was my very minor treasure find. The BIG treasure find is still to come. But first:

Do you SEE that holographic (hologramic??) Kensington Zebra logo in the right-hand corner of PIRATE’S (Penis???) IN PARADISE? Because if you recognize it, you’re dating yourself as much as I am. I’m also fairly certain my teen self lusted after THE OUTLAW VIKING while he was busy lusting after his identical twin sister (Raine, in case you’re wondering).

Aside: Even my husband is pulling books off the shelf and giggling like Beavis at this point. He was most impressed by this array (as you can tell by the slightly-dirty-fingernailed manthumbs hanging onto the books for my nonexistent photography skills):

Yeah baby-centric romances. YEAH. You’re almost as good as hairy-chested romances (of which I brought a couple home).

Right at this point, many things happened at once. First, my camera informed me I was out of memory (doh, left the memory card at home) and I had to start deleting things in order to take other pictures. Second, a…socially-challenged stranger wandered over and started informing me that anybody could write romance novels and “there’s even a book that tells you how to do it,” and “they say ‘her heaving bosom’ has been used in so many books that the first person would be rich if he [he!!!] had a nickel for every time a romance writer copied him.” Third, while gritting my teeth and trying not to stab socially-challenged-stranger in his socially-challenged eye, I discovered The Book That Got Away. And I put it back on the shelf. And then I pulled it back off the shelf so I could take a picture of the cover for my photo-blogging. And then I turned it over and read the blurb and put it back on the shelf again. And my heart started pounding rapidly and I pulled it back off the shelf, wondering WTF heart?

And THAT is when I realized I’d discovered The Book That Got Away. And I might have peed my pants a little. JUST a little!

Um, unfortunately between that moment and this moment, I’ve misplaced The Book That Got Away so I can’t put up a picture or tell the story of it, but that’s OK because I’ll find it again somewhere in my house (under the bed? Hidden behind a stack of winter clothes? Under the Christmas ornaments box? Because right now the house is a bit of a wreck) and when I find it? Oh, when I find it, you will be treated to the story of The Book That Got Away. And the picture of it.

In the meantime, though, get thee to the BookThing website and reaffirm that SOMETHING is right with this world we live in, if only by the grace of the Baltimorean who decided unwanted books would be wanted by someone, and should be available free of charge.

Reviewer Top Pick at Night Owl Romance Reviews

This weekend brought another review for CHARLOTTE’S YOUNGER MAN: 5 out of 5!

“If you can read this without getting excited, you might want to check your pulse.” -chvydupont24 at NOR.

Read the full review here.

Reviews in for Charlotte’s Younger Man

Read the Got Erotic Romance review. – 4 Diamonds!

Read the Mrs. Giggles review. – Er…not 4 Diamonds, but I believe in the importance of dissenting opinion and the value of criticism.

Thank you to both reviewers!

Charlotte’s Younger Man now available

For sale now at Liquid Silver Books

Neither “past life experience” nor “pretty, pierced twenty-something” are on the agenda for legal aide Charlotte Kelley’s thirty-fifth birthday. She’d planned dinner with friends, opening of gifts, a few hours’ work investigating potential trademark violations at an area snuggle party, and a quiet moment with her vibrator before bed.

Journalism grad student and features reporter Heath Breck is working on an assignment, not scouting for a MILF. Women who attend snuggle parties are not his type and women who shop at Jones New York instead of Old Navy are totally out of the question—too expensive, too high-maintenance, and too intent on bedtime by 11 p.m.

A token from Charlotte’s childhood and a circle-of-friends ritual, however, make for a significant change in both partygoers’ plans.

Charlotte’s Younger Man for Excerpt Monday

Once a month, a bunch of authors get together and post excerpts from published books, contracted work or works in progress, and link to each other. You don’t have to be published to participate–just an writer with an excerpt you’d like to share. For more info on how to participate, head over to the Excerpt Monday site! or click on the banner above.
*
The door to the upstairs bathroom latched just as he topped the stairs. He paced the length of he hallway, rubbing the back of his neck. His erection persisted. Heath adjusted himself and stopped to knock on the door when she didn’t come out after his tenth trip down the hall.

She appeared in the doorway before his knuckles connected with wood. Her face registered surprise, then her expression closed. She finished buttoning her coat over her pajamas. The toe of a shiny black shoe poked from the open top of the tote slung over her arm. She was leaving the party. Heath frowned and lowered his hand. “Are you alright?”

“Fine. A bit too much to drink at dinner. You can have the bathroom now,” she said to the floor.

Standing, the top of her head didn’t even reach his shoulder. Heath studied the part in her hair. Abruptly, his fingers itched to feel the texture. An uneasy urge to hold her hair and pull her head back so he could see her eyes crept down the back of his neck. He gripped the edges of the door frame to keep himself in check.

“I don’t need it. I wanted to ask you to cuddle,” he said with forced lightness. “Cuddle” wasn’t the verb that had taken over his brain.

Her breath caught, but she didn’t say anything. She finished buttoning her coat and curled a slender, strong hand around the handle of her bag, fist to her shoulder, forearm across her chest. Her impressive chest. Even through the layers of her coat, her curves remained distinct, full and generous. Heath dragged his gaze back to her straight part. How had his brain manufactured that elaborate fantasy?

“I’m not in the right frame of mind for party games,” she finally said. “You don’t seem to be, either.”

Something in her voice made him look down past her head. His cock strained against the front of his pajama pants, stabbing straight at her. Heath flushed and stepped aside, brought back to reality. What could he say to defend his condition?

Charlotte didn’t ask him to say anything. She averted her face and squeezed past him. Heath watched her walk away, his face hot from the amusement he’d heard in her voice. Older women didn’t usually do it for him. He liked girls who were easy to drink with, interested in being out until three a.m., having a quick fuck at four a.m., and thought nothing of going to their first class still smelling like sex and cigarette smoke. Older women…they had a lot more to maintain. Morning showers, face cream rituals, expensive underwear that wouldn’t survive a week beneath his bed. Rubbing his hair, Heath closed himself into the bathroom. Charlotte was too classy and probably wouldn’t even dream of piercing her navel.

She was not for him. Even if she did have a great ass under that orange and black plaid.
He’d just locked the door when a gleam in the bottom of the sink caught his eye. Her ring. The sight of the silver band made his balls tighten. Something told him she shouldn’t lose it. He retrieved the piece of jewelry and turned to follow her but words on the inside of the band caught his eye. He held it at a better angle and stared at the inscription.

In this life, may you find the loves of lives past.

The hair on his arms stood on end. Before his imagination could venture down scary paths, he folded the ring in his fist and went after her.

*

Available Monday, May 17 at Liquid Silver Books

Now Available in Print from Freya’s Bower

Cora Phillips may have witchcraft in her blood, but she’s convinced she inherited the recessive rather than the dominant trait. When Cora, through clumsy fumblings to “get in touch with her goddess”, calls a pair of ancient dragons into her meditation circle, she swears the summons was a mistake.

Mistake or not, two dragons and their keepers gather to answer her mating call.

She quickly learns neither dragon keepers nor dragons are willing to share. As dangerous, beautiful Salim Aridi and his rival Greg Cho set out to claim her she finds herself embroiled in sinister schemes and dangerous power plays. Caught between the dragonkeepers and their legendary aspects, she does the only thing she can and flees the complicated steps of the dragon dance.

Escape is short-lived. Before long, the dragons demonstrate just how meaningless human distance really is and return to remind Cora that dragon ties are not so easily broken.

Deceptions begin to unravel as Cora attempts to disentangle herself from family and lovers in order to pursue the truth of what she is, accept the reality of what she must be, and become dragon bound.

Available now from Freya’s Bower