I dedicate this post to the people who read, not just my books, but any books. All books. Without you, authors would be a mighty lonesome bunch.
Too often writers get caught up in fame games, buy into their own PR, and stop realizing they don't really matter as much as they think they do.

See, there are thousands of other writers out there who are eager to have somebody read their stories. When you come right down to it, I'm nobody. My stories matter. The words I write matter. But me? I'm the invisible woman.

A year or two ago, I read this on Amie Stuart's website, as part of her bio page.

Last but not least, I'm a storyteller and a writer, and I'm here to entertain you.

Yeah. Me too. I work for ya'll. I'd write the stories anyway because of all the voices in my head, but without you readers, they'd have nowhere to go. In the old days, they'd have drilled holes in my skull, trying to let the evil spirits out, so I'm lucky I live in more enlightened times.

I am beyond blessed because on a daily basis, I receive wonderful letters like those from Ginger, Jenny, Denise, Ann, Sara, Kelly, and many more. I wrote back to each of you because it means the world to me that you took the time out of your lives to tell me how my book made you feel. You didn't have to do that, but I'm so glad you did.

That's why I write. Not for reviews, or recognition, or even money, although my agent thinks we should get paid. I write for that one moment when I know I moved somebody; words I wrote made someone else laugh or cry. That's magical. And ya'll can snicker at me if you want to, but I get misty over those letters. I look at them with awe and disbelief. Who am I to be this lucky? To have people reading what I write? Well, I'm nobody, of course. The words are everything. Thank you for reading them.

Readers everywhere, I salute you.

13 reasons I love my husband 1. He brings home flowers for no reason. 2. When I IM him in the middle of the day with questions like, "should they steal a ship or be rescued by space pirates" he doesn't miss a beat. 3. On rainy days when we go out, he walks me to the passenger side of the car and leaves the umbrella with me, then runs around to his side. 4. On those same rainy days, he drops me off at the door of wherever we're going, and then parks the car. 5. If he's tired and/or grumpy and thus short with me, he always says he's sorry. 6. He watched Legally Blonde with me. 7. After ten years, he still asks me out on dates. And he listens when we're together. 8. When I came out of the bedroom on our anniversary, he said without looking at me, "You look nice." As I came closer and he saw me, he amended that to, "You look pretty." Then as I went past him down the stairs, he breathed, "You look really pretty." 9. He tells me he's proud of me. 10. On Tuesday nights, we sit and hold hands in the dark. 11. Late at night when I'm writing in bed, he rolls over, kisses the nape of my neck, and mumbles, "You're beautiful." 12. He still ogles me. 13. Even though he's busy at work, he always calls me in the middle of the day to find how I am or if I need anything.

Labels: Thursday 13

Today QB invented a new meme. Go Bev! To quote her, it's "kind of the pervy version of America's Most Wanted."

Here's how it began. I visited Bev's blog to see the luscious man-pics she posts on Tuesday. (I love the pretty faces, Bev, but I could stand to see less peen. Just sayin') Yes, I know I should've been writing, but I've already done 4K today! After heaving a dreamy sigh, I mentioned the pic to Dionne in an email, who being fond of studmuffins, immediately reposted it. But we don't know who this delicious creature is. He must have a name!

WHO IS THIS GUY? Does he have other pictures, preferably where he's not wearing any clothes?
Look at those eyes, such a crystalline blue, and his delicate, almost elven features. *cue deep, heartfelt sigh*

PS -- If you don't know who this guy is, post his picture on your blog, then come back here and post the link in the comments. Maybe one of our readers out there will know who this mystery man is.

Labels: mmm-meme

The Party Train has arrived. Why? Well, it's June 25th, and that means Your Alibi releases today!

I'm sure you knew there would be some kind of contest going on up in here. To enter, just post your favorite song from the 80s in comments. Prize is a copy of Your Alibi, and a $30 Amazon Gift Certificate. Winner will be drawn randomly this time next week. But you have to play to win!

Meanwhile, let's get down on it.

Want more Annie? I got around this weekend. You can find me here, here, and here.

Whenever I read a book I love, I run off to my blog to tell people about it. This has been a longstanding tradition for me. The fact that I haven't done it in a while just means I've been writing more than reading lately. However, I was lucky enough to get my hands on a copy of Making Chase by Lauren Dane.

Here's the blurb.

Tate Murphy is a girl from the wrong side of the tracks. She grew up a million miles away from the easy life Matt Chase has had. She's spent her life pulling herself and her siblings up and out of that trailer by the railroad tracks and she hasn't looked back. Matt Chase is a dream of a guy and she's certainly not going to turn down a short fling with one of the most handsome men she's ever seen!

Matt Chase has watched each one of his brothers find love and he knows he's ready for that too. It's all a matter of finding the woman who captures his heart. He's certainly sampled his fair share of them but none has moved him the way Tate Murphy does when he goes to her shop to thank her for some cookies and a thank you note.

But as Matt gets to know Tate and appreciate her strength and unique beauty, he also realizes she's got some big self esteem issues about her past. To build a future, he's got to find a way past some big road blocks.

Dude. Making Chase was un-put-downable, exactly the kind of book I love. It reminded me of the most heart-warming of Nora Roberts's family sagas. In fact, some of the interactions between Tate and Matt reminded me a little of Eve and Roarke. I don't mean it's derivative, just that these characters have that same perfect chemistry, married to marvelous banter. Tate isn't all melty-girly; she's more likely to say, "Then fuck me, bub" than anything more subtle. No hearts and flowers for her. She's a realist, not a romantic.

I didn't mean to devour it in one sitting; I really didn't. I opened the file to make sure the pdf downloaded correctly, and lost the whole morning. I was supposed to be writing, dammit! I want to read the first three now, but I cannot buy any books until I finish WANDERLUST, because as I have just demonstrated, I have no willpower.

I love Lauren's writing--she has such a charming style. A couple of my favorite bits were "the visual donut" and her creative cursing. Of those inventive phrases, I giggled most heartily over "fuckadoodledoo."

You don't want to miss this one.

Labels: reviews

13 games I love Why, yes, I am a huge dork, thank you. 1. Riddick: Escape from Butcher Bay There's just something about snapping a dude's neck in one move... I'm playing this now, a little at a time. Because I have work to do! *eyes the Xbox* 2. Knights of the Old Republic Say what you will, this game kicked ass. Great storyline, great characters, touch of romance, and you get to become a Jedi. What more do you want? 3. Neverwinter Nights This game offers endless fun because of the community modules. You just never run out of things to do or new adventures. 4. Baldur's Gate One of the best computer RPGs of all time. 5. Baldur's Gate 2 This one was even better than the first. Better graphics, amazing NPC interactions. Just fantastic. 6. Jade Empire I was totally addicted to this game. If I wasn't playing it, I was thinking about playing it. Come to that, I wanna play through it again... 7. Neverwinter Nights 2 Great graphics. The mods aren't in yet, but I hear the toolset is harder to master. The official campaign was good, though. I've looked at one custom adventure and it's pretty impressive. 8. Knights of the Old Republic 2 Okay, I know, this game got a bad rap because of the ending, but overall, it's a really fun game. I've replayed both KotRs like a bazillion times, and that's the sign of a good game. 9. Eye of the Beholder This is embarrassing to admit, but this was the first computer game I ever played. Really basic DnD hack and slash game, but it totally sucked me in. 10. Planescape: Torment This is the only game whose ending ever made me cry. 11. Fallout 1 & 2 I'm listing these together because I played them back to back. My husband suggested I might like them so I blew through the first one and he immediately handed over the second. You can become a hooker or a pimp in this game or have a gay marriage! 12. Oblivion I commandeered the Xbox 360 for several days over this one. Andres was not amused. 13. World of Warcraft I leveled a toon to 60. I really did. I had to quit this game cos it was sucking up all my free time. I'm a recovering WoW junkie.

Dionne has an important post up on It's Not Chick Porn. Go read it; I'll wait.

Good cause, right? I support this antho 100%. I'll be writing a short story for it, but that's not all I'm doing. I received a wonderful fan letter about my fantasy novel, Stone Maiden. This reader wanted to know if there was any way she could get the book in print because she loves it so much and she has read it over and over. Since the book is out of print, and I can do whatever the heck I like with it, I promptly went to Lulu and set it up so she could, in fact, get the book in print. I set the price low because I just wanted to hook up a fan.

So this is what I'm going to do. In addition to the short story I'm writing for this initiative, I'm also putting the Stone Maiden link here. I set it so I only make $1 for each copy sold. Each copy ya'll buy, I'm donating the $1 I earn to Equality Now to dovetail with the Nothing But Red antho. So for your money you get a fantasy novel and make a contribution to a better world.

It just doesn't get sweeter than that, does it?

Labels: making the world a better place

I admit it. I'm susceptible to marketing campaigns. When you put a dozen beautiful women on screen flipping their long, shiny hair around, I become curious. It's not that I think I'll be transformed into a tall, slim model, but I do wonder what the shampoo can do for my hair. Is it better than what I use now? Really? When you put it in a cute pink bottle and tell me the formula contains pearl proteins and cashmere for superlative shine, I am yours. See?! It's pink! So I switched to L'Oreal Elseve Nutri Gloss shampoo + conditioner. I'm innately lazy, so why do in two steps what I can do in one? It's still wet so I can't tell whether I now have marvelous supermodel sheen, but it hasn't stopped me from flipping my hair around in proper fashion. I almost put out the cat's eye. It does feel lovely, though, and silky smooth.

What marketing campaigns sucker you in?

I needed another way to screw around! No, really. I seriously did. I don't waste nearly enough time on my own. Still, this thing is so much fun to play with. After I got home from grocery shopping, I made Jax.
If ya'll decide to play around with Meez too, use my name (annaguirre) and we'll both get Meez loot to buy more pretend gear for our virtual dollies!

PS - If you haven't already commented, hit The Bradford Bunch. My contest runs until Wednesday morning.
Don't miss out -- act now!

My post is over here today. What're you waiting for? Go win some shit!

In the US, we don't prize our elderly. We don't respect their wisdom. We hide them away in homes because they become unsightly and forgetful and querulous. Why? Because they remind us we're heading there ourselves. They make us think about death, so we try to shove them under the proverbial rug.

That isn't the case in Mexico. There aren't really any old folks homes here. They stay with their families until they die, end of story. I suspect it's like that in other countries as well.

Well, not all seniors are ready to be put out to pasture. Read this article. Seriously. Do it. Now!

That just charmed the shit out of me. These folks rock for real. And now, I'm gonna work your soft spot like you wouldn't believe. Watch this: Not a dry eye in the house, right? Our music, when taken by another generation, gains a whole new meaning, like when Johnny Cash sang Hurt. I salute you, Young@Heart, and I'm buying your CD, Rockin' at Heaven's Door, when it comes out.

Labels: bonus post

First, let me just say that children's school concerts must've been devised for a circle in hell. One demon said, "Let's put the show in a gymnasium with inadequate seating and ventilation, shall we?" and then another demon said, "Hey, this is just too awful, let's spread the misery!" Thus end-of-school concerts were born.

To the tall man in front of me, wearing a lilac shirt and a mauve tie, no, it is not too adorable that you picked up your four year old and were dancing in the aisle, thus obstructing my view of the performance. To the idiots roaming around with your cameras, the school is making a DVD. Please stop being such asshats and buy it. The way you wandered around, madly snapping pictures and filming, I bet you couldn't name half the songs that were sung last night. This is one of my major peeves. People are so busy recording the moment, observing through a lens, they forget to live in the moment.

To the people who kept circling the gym, unable to believe there really were NO seats, I hope you slam your feet in car doors sometime soon. I'm a short person! I cannot see when four six foot plus men arrange themselves in front of me. And finally, to the teacher who bitched at me for coming to the front because I wanted to see my daughter dance without all the camera people, walking people, and the tall men blocking me, you can bugger off. You didn't police the tall dudes when they were bothering me! So I'm afraid I can't give a rat's ass about other people's enjoyment, when they don't care about mine. Why ask the short woman in front (who was NOT standing alone I might add) to move somewhere else? I only wanted to make sure I could see for that one song, for God's sake.

Since I was relegated to a spot where I couldn't see at all once I did finally find a seat, I found myself checking out asses. Is that inappropriate at a children's concert? Well, (a) they weren't children's asses, and (b) I don't care. It has come to my attention that I don't like the asses of terribly tall men. They're almost always flat and shapeless. I only saw two good asses on all the men walking around. One was an Indian gentleman. I was quite shocked when I finally got round to looking at his face because he was at least 50! But the man did have a nice ass, you know, the round bubble kind. The best ass in the place belonged to the professional cello player they hired to play with the children for the concert. He had a really cute butt and a shock of wild black Mozart hair. I stared at him for the rest of the concert, not that he noticed. I guess cello players don't get ogled much.

Oh, and to you loud-mouthed harpies behind me, in case you didn't know, when you come to a children's concert, you SHOULDN'T BE TALKING. I don't care how long it's been since you had coffee with your friend, so-and-so's mommy, this about the kids! Listen to them sing and play! They've worked hard, dammit!!

Moving on. Authors, just because you're on an 'author only' loop, that doesn't mean it's a good idea to reveal how sad and bitter you are. Save the self-defeatist poor-me bullshit for an email to one friend you absolutely trust, who will then tell you, "Suck it up, you're being a whiny little beeotch." I never thought I could be put off buying books based on personality, but it appears I can. After reading some of the shit yesterday, several have landed on my I will never buy a book by them, ever, list.

The rest of you on the loop, holy crap. Give the small stuff a rest, and please, for the love of God, STOP going around bragging about your one accomplishment to anyone who will listen. I saw the same damn thing posted five times by the same person, and it's not even a new development. Hell, I'm not even sure it's true, with some new facts coming to light. Writing is not a way to feed your ego. You'll get smacked down, suffer a lot of false starts, and be told you can't succeed by numerous people, but if you love telling stories, then STFU and do it. Don't talk the talk; walk the walk.

Finally, since ya'll have been kind enough to let me vent, I'm going to make it up to you. This weekend we're launching a joint author blog called The Bradford Bunch. As you could probably guess, it's seven authors repped by the amazing Laura Bradford. It features me, Anya Bast, Cynthia Eden, Jodi Lynn Copeland, Lauren Dane, Marissa Scott, and Vonna Harper. You're probably asking yourself why you should care. Well, we'll be giving away loot and free books during our launch week, and this won't be just another promotional tool where we talk about how awesome we are. Ya'll know I can bring the funny, so consider it broughten. My day is Sunday, so I hope you'll stop by. If that's not enough, you'll have a chance to win an Amazon gift certificate over there and a free copy of Your Alibi, which can't be purchased until June 25th. You'll get it a week early! Pretty sweet, no? See you Sunday.

13 authors who should be famous and aren't. Yet. Note: If your name isn't on the list, don't go away hurt. I may not have read your books. If your name is on here, I didn't rank my picks in any fashion. 1. Bonnie Dee Ever since I first read Bone Deep, I've been in love with this woman's writing. I could smell the air when she described the carnival on page one. 2. Amie Stuart I actually bought Once in a Blue Moon at the same time as Bone Deep. Talk about being blessed twice over. I came away from that shopping spree thinking Liquid Silver must be the best epub ever to have writers like this. 3. Shannon Stacey I love her sense of humor, which I first saw in Twice Upon a Roadtrip. I think she's going places. 4. Elaine Corvidae I can't even begin to tell you how much I love this woman's writing. I'm far from impartial, as she and I have been off-and-on crit partners for more years than I care to contemplate. She writes for Mundania Press, and she was doing kick-ass faeries before the Melissa Marrs or Holly Blacks of this world ever thought up the notion. I love all her books, but I especially love her Shadow Fae series, oh, and The Ghost Eater, and... well, just buy one of her books, dammit. Start with this one. 5. Sara Dennis I started out by reading Stacking the Deck for review, and I ate up her backlist. She has a nice, vivid writing style. 6. Selah March She sent me Dirty Shame, and now I'm a fan. At the risk of tooting my own horn, she writes stories the way I would, except I don't have to go to all the trouble of doing it, and I can just enjoy hers. My one complaint? Her books to date haven't been long enough! 7. Bridget Midway I've read several of her stories, including That's What Friends Are For, and Love My Way. Her books are smart-n-sexy. 8. Lauren Dane I read book four of her Chase brothers series, and not only did it stand alone, but Making Chase made me want to read the other three, right away. You know that special Nora Roberts feeling you get from each and every one of her books? Lauren's got that too, an indefinable magic. 9. Shelby Reed I have no words for how much I loved The Fifth Favor and A Fine Work of Art. I'm not quite so sold on her paranormals. I've also been privileged to read one of her unpublished works, entitled Liar's Moon at the time. That was an amazing novel, and I don't know what the hell happened to it. It was better than Sharon Sala, seasoned with SEP. Shelby's writing just sparkles. I was judging a contest she entered, a coon's age ago, and her story won, I'm pleased to say. What's the deal, anyway? I haven't heard a peep about new deals, and I've been expecting great things, any minute now. 10. Jacqueline Meadows She wrote two great stories, Something Wicked and Something Wanton, for Ellora's Cave, about a PI named Desdemona, who is also a witch. I ate those like crackerjacks, and wanted more, but her website seems to be two years out of date. Anyone know what happened to her? 11. Katherine Allred I first read her as Amethyst Ames. I know, I know. Despite the colorful moniker, the novel kicked ass. Undercover Mistress, I believe it was called. Gruff, antisocial hero named Angus -- how I loved him. Swoon. Now she's writing amazing stuff for Cerridwen under her own name. Books like The Sweet Gum Tree. Why isn't she famous already? Damn. The publishing world needs to ask my opinion more, clearly. 12. Diana Bold She rocked my world with her historical, Nobody's Hero. I promptly bought up everything she's ever written. If you're looking for Laura Kinsale's successor, keep your eyes on this woman. She writes the same type of heavy, angsty yet utterly delicious historicals. 13. Dionne Galace I've been blessed to read a few of her stories, and she's quite brilliant. The amazing thing about her writing is the way her personality shines forth, imbuing her characters with a singular charm. She too is going places.

Labels: Thursday 13

Inspiration just struck me, and I want to get an opinion on this idea before I jot it down as a project I'm definitely gonna write someday.

Over on Dear Author, they have a review up for a book called Tempt Me Tonight. Apparently the "sex for revenge" plot device is used in this story. Wendy made a comment that cracked me up: "What is with the ubiquitous 'have sex to punish guy' plot? 'Oh please, please don't throw me into that briar patch!'"

I responded: "The only time I could see this device working is if the sex is really bad, and she does it on purpose. Like biting him really hard, or just laying there and just randomly asking, 'What do you think of global warming?' while he's doing his best to rock her world. Something along the lines of How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days, where the heroine puts the guy through all kinds of evil shenanigans, like naming his man-tool 'Princess Sofia.' That could be pretty damn funny actually."

Then the magic light went on. Here's the scenario that popped into my head. Two best friends, one of whom is broken-hearted because some player did her wrong. So armed with a picture, angry, militant best friend sets out to teach him a lesson via a twist on the "revenge sex" thing. She goes after him like a barracuda, but when it comes down to the actual moment, here's a sampling of what I have in mind:

• They're fooling around and she starts faking a huge, noisy orgasm, and then just stops and shrugs. "Nah, not gonna happen. You hungry?"


• She bites him so hard she draws blood, and they're NOT into blood play.


• Heroine manages to kick him in the junk during her ecstatic thrashings.


• She convinces him to participate in some really humiliating roleplay.


• She lays there like a dead fish and eventually says, "Did your other lovers like that? Really?


• She asks at some point, "Is it in?"

Now here's the twist. When she's not torturing him for being a bastard, she actually likes him. They click. Despite herself, she finds herself falling for him. But he gets fed up with her crazy shit and dumps her. That's when she finds out -- old boy has a twin! And he's the one did her friend wrong. She actually picked the shy, sensitive one to abuse, and now our bitch has to mount one of those Alpha-hero-style groveling campaigns to get him back.

You like?

In the spirit of yesterday's post I must confess something. As a general rule, I despise country music. Imagine the type of music you hate worse than any other and then multiple it by ten. Well, I hate C&W more than that. I blame it on a childhood of being dragged to the Grand Ole Opry (which in my opinion was neither grand, nor an opera), and to see State Fair performances by Roy Clark and Buck Owens. I know who Roy Acuff was, for crying out loud, and that ain't right in a person my age!

I'd rather listen to Fabio say, "I can't believe it's not buttah" on an infinite loop over a bunch of twangy cowboys singing about how they lost their woman, dog, truck, and are about to forfeit the family farm too. It's depressing. Oh, there are some rockabilly acts that I like, including the Dixie Chicks and Antigone Rising, but by and large, I loathe this shit.

So now that we have established this, please someone answer me this. Why can't I hear this song without getting all choked up? I defy you to listen to that song / watch that video without getting all mushy inside. Fuckin' Tim McGraw, man.

Ya'll may not know this, but my people come from the South. As such I spent a lot of time with aunts, uncles, and grandparents during the long, muggy summers. I've eaten squirrel, coon, possum, rabbit, deer, bear, and stuff in stews that's best not asked about.

That was a partic'lar trial, I must say, on account of my feelin' a deep measure of sympathy for the poor critters my kinfolk hunted and/or trapped. I ate a lot of bread-n-butter pickles, those long, hot summers. I learned the vernacular as well. Certain expressions stay with me to this day, along with less sophisticated customs like refusing to wear shoes anywhere within a block of my own home. It's dead lucky the climate here favors this vagary.

At any rate, today I want to talk about a phrase that has a special place in my heart. Fixin' to. I don't know how many times I heard my grandpa say, "I'm fixin' to mow the grass," as he plopped down in a rocking chair on the porch. This actually means he'll do it whenever he damn well feels like it. This applies to almost any chore that needs doing. If the man of the house prefaces the task with "I'm fixin' to," then you really shouldn't expect it to be done before next week.

Understandably, the womenfolk get all het up over it. There's only one thing a woman can do in this situation, I'm afraid. And that's plop down on the porch beside her man, heave a heavy sigh, get real easy in her chair, and say, "Yep, and I'm fixin' to make dinner."

You watch how fast that man will mow the grass then. Southern women have a lot of power; with their sweet honeyed drawls, they can get away with saying things that would get a Yankee bitch-slapped. I watched it with my aunties and my grandma at church. They'd all be standing around in gossip knots with sugary smiles, whispering about so-and-so steppin' out on her husband. I always wanted to know where she was steppin', but nobody ever told me.

At such church socials, I learned the Southern woman's secret weapon. You can say anything to anyone and get away with it, if you use this phrase and drawl the insult. Let me teach you how it works.

Say a woman is getting on your nerves because she's trying to impress everyone with how smart she is, but when you get right down to it, she's just using a whole lot of ten dollar words that don't actually mean anything. She's been talking about a proactive unilateral paradigm for the last ten minutes.

Well, if you're a Southern lady, you lean in, put your hand on her arm, and smile real sweet. Then you say, "Bless yer heart, you couldn't light a fire with a book of matches and a can of kerosene, could ye, honey? I'm gone pray for ye, though."

Then you demurely excuse yourself, content in the fact that she'll never figure out you just called her dumber than a box of rocks, Southern style. You also hinted that she's so dumb she needs divine intervention. And those are the magic words: "Bless your heart" and "I'm gone pray for ye, though." You can sandwich the meanest things between those two key phrases and somehow never get bitch-slapped.

But don't forget the drawl. It's a key component in getting away with verbal murder. But kids, I beg you, don't try this with a Jersey accent. It could get ugly.

And that's all for the Mason Dix-ionary this time. I'll have more Southernisms for you soon.

Once in a while, I write a book that stays with me. I tend to disown them after completion. I divest myself of them emotionally, so I can say, "Reading is subjective, not everyone will like this" and mean it. Your Alibi isn't one of those books. I'm not going to say "it's the book of my heart" or anything that will make you hurl, but... it's special. Magical.

I re-read it last night and registered a sense of awe that encompassed the thought, I wrote that? The prose is... gorgeous. Here are a couple of my favorite lines: "...the candles gave only frustrating firefly glimpses of his expression..." and "Beneath her tongue, he tasted of springtime, thunderstorms made flesh..."

I haven't disowned this one. I don't think I can. I'm proud of this book; it's more than a romance with hot sex in it. Though I won't go all crazyauthor on a reviewer who hates it, privately I'll think the person is brain-damaged.

In an earlier blog entry, I wrote:

It's for anyone who's loved and lost, anyone who ever said goodbye to a loved one, anyone who ever thought their life was over, and then found the strength to turn it around and try again. And what's more, win this time. It's for people who never give up, who take the pile of shit they've been handed and plant a garden with it.

Without further ado, your first taste of Your Alibi:

"Of course. I want my guests to enjoy themselves at all times."

Her cool words nettled him, and he rolled onto his side to look into her face, forgetting about personal embarrassment. When he realized what he'd done, he shrugged mentally. She could take it as a compliment if she noticed him his straining zipper.

"So you offer this service to everyone? Or just people who are pissed off?"

"No more than I do laundry," she said with a smile he couldn't interpret. "But there are special exceptions."

"How special?" He propped himself up on an elbow, feeling that particular energy crackle between them once more. Definitely not imagining that.

Her gaze lingered on his mouth. "To date, the list consists of you..." Addie touched his cheek gently. "And you..." She ran her fingertip down to his jaw, making a teasing progression toward his mouth. "Then there's you..."

Sean squeezed his eyes shut, unable to bear the teasing. When she touched his lip, he bit, gently, to let her know he wasn't in the mood to play. Or rather, he was. So she'd best be careful or he'd give her what she was asking for, maybe harder and rougher than she wanted. His teeth against the pad of her fingertip coaxed a soft sound out of her, and when he opened his eyes, he saw a sweet, answering need in her gaze.

"You better leave or lay down, girl." He didn't touch her. Yet.

Her glance dropped, and she licked her lips, visibly appreciating the swell of his cock through faded denim. At the end of a minute, she was still standing there, immobile, and that decided the matter for him. He reached for her, tugging her down on top of him. If this wasn't what she wanted, she could pull free, but instead, she let her thighs bracket his hips as she lowered her head, lips seeking his.

First kisses were supposed to be shy and tentative, noses bumping. But Addie tipped her head to the right with consummate assurance and nibbled on his lower lip. Nibble and tug, while her tongue swept his upper lip, carrying traces of peppermint. She kissed him slow and sweet, building the anticipation, and Sean wrapped his arms around her, conscious of the maddening contrast between her whisper-light kisses and the subtle rock of her hips.

When she sat back, he let her go, but she just gazed down at him, her cheeks glowing with color. Sean didn't know what he expected, wondered if she could feel him throbbing underneath her, wondered if she could feel him shaking. Her chest rising and falling quickly, Addie rested her hands on her bare knees as if to brace herself. He followed her motion and noted the scars on her knees, pale nicks against her tan skin. Reacting more than thinking, he rubbed his thumbs over the marks.

"What happened?"

She cupped her palms over his, not trying to take his hands away, though. More like seeking contact. But her smile tightened like he'd asked her something painful. "Roller-skating. I never did learn how."

Well, that wasn't the truth. His instincts perked up when he wasn't getting the complete picture, but he wasn't here to find out why she had scars on her knees. Sean felt a flicker of regret. He hated that feeling, as it was a foregone conclusion she was lying to him, but he'd use whatever weapon he needed to put the pieces together. It didn't matter if she was a good person.

So he let it go and ran his hands a little higher, watching his touch spark in her eyes. Goddamn, it had been so long since a woman looked at him like that. He could almost forget everything else. Almost.

Her skin's so soft.

"What're we doing here, Addie?"

At that, she gave him that long, going-to-hell-with-a-smile look. "Nothing yet, but if you hold still, I'll fuck the hell out of you."

His breath went out in a rush.

The first taste of is always free.

So today, well, today ended about an hour ago, didn't it? Okay, yesterday was our anniversary. We celebrated by going out on a real date. The sitter showed up on time, though it was cool and rainy. Marvelous change from the heatwave we've been suffering enjoying.

I wore jeans adorned with silver thread and gems all down the right leg with my sparkly sandals and a silky gold Indian inspired blouse. With this ensemble, I carried my fabulous camo bag. Andres was debonair in a cream dress shirt and blue slacks. We set out in the Infiniti, delighted to be child free and all set for a leisurely drive to Polanco. Traffic was astonishingly light. Think the rain kept people indoors, which was great for us. Polanco is an upscale district where you can find fine restaurants and fantastic shopping. Gucci, Burberry, and Louis Vuitton all have shops on Presidente Masaryk. Lots of other fabulous designers, but I couldn't shop, for we were hungry.

We headed to the Tandoor Restaurant, left the car with the valet, and made a dash for the front doors. It's beautiful, intimate and artfully decorated. The wait wasn't too bad, and the food is worth it. For dinner we enjoyed vegetable samosa, chicken tikka, kabab, basmati rice, a mushroom dish, yoghurt dip, and nan. For dessert we had some terribly sweet pastries dipped in honey. All delicious.

We chatted on the way back toward Naucalpan and decided to catch a movie at Mundo E. Since Fracture was starting relatively soon, we decided to check it out. Good film, quite suspenseful (unless you happen to watch CSI every night like Andres!) He apologized for figuring out the twist halfway in and telling me about it.

All in all, a lovely evening! As for gifts, well, my girl-tech collection is now complete. I had this

and this already. For our anniversary, Andres gave me this today.
I got him a Wii to replace the one the kittens damaged.

Hope you enjoyed this virtual slice of our anniversary. Night, ya'll.

Don't understand why I love cats? Watch this.

Labels: caturday

Now, now, mop up that coffee you just spit out, and bear with me for a minute.

I make predictions every now and then. A while back, on Cynthia Eden's blog, I said:

I predict vampires are going to be a much tougher sell. They will sell because they're proven, but the market is saturated so it will need to be really fresh or a new twist, not the same old stuff. I also predict demons / psychic abilities will see a huge upswing in popularity in paranormals.

Demons is the keyword there. And yeah, I'm right, aren't I? How many books with demon heroes / heroines have come out lately? How many people have said they've sold such a thing? And still yet how many more author bloggers are talking about their demon story in progress? I have a pretty good eye for these things.

So now I'm making my next prediction. Alpha heroes are the standard; they're old and tired. On a blog I was reading, Gwyneth Bolton said in comments: "I love me some alpha heroes, but I married me a beta."

Her words got me thinking. On one hand, we have readers calling for more realism in romance. On the other, we have readers protesting that romance is a fantasy, not meant to reflect our everyday lives. It's an ideal and an escape.

Well, hells yeah, it is. Imagine marrying that alpha who makes your toes curl in the book. You've had a hard day, the kids were little dipshits who fought constantly. The cat yakked on the rug, and the dog ran off with your favorite leather shoe. The air conditioner isn't working on your car, and the upstairs toilet hasn't stopped running since Alpha Junior flushed your favorite wristwatch.

Alpha Senior walks through the front door like he owns the place, grabs you up into his arms, not noticing the cornmeal on your cheek or the fact that you can't get the gum off the kitchen counter. He kisses you passionately and says, "I've been longing for you! I must have you. Now!" But you have three kids to feed and fish waiting to fry on the kitchen counter.

You say, "Honey..."

But he won't take no for an answer! He drags you upstairs, despite the fact that you feel sexy as a two-day old tuna sandwich, and starts trying to seduce you. "You're my woman, I knew from the moment I set eyes on you. I must make you mine NOW, before I die of desire."

"MOM!" screams Alpha Junior. "Pogo stole the fish you were fixing to make for dinner off the counter!"

"Ignore them," demands Alpha Senior. "You are MINE! Each moment I spend parted from you at work is an agony of lifetimes. I must fill you with the frothing seed of my loins to mark you as my woman and cause you to burgeon with my child, yet again!"

That's when you hit him in the head and trudge down the stairs to deal with the other fruit of his loins. Don't you wish you'd married a nice beta instead, who would help you cook, and listen to how your day went?

Beta is the new alpha. Women will tire of their alpha overlords and go looking for books with men who can be strong without being overbearing. Mark my words, even in the romance world, this shall come to pass.

13 reasons you shouldn't buy Your Alibi 1. The heroine, Addie, is neither a virgin, nor orgasmically challenged. In fact, she's a former slut, who fully intends to return to her slutful state once she sorts out a few familial and financial problems. 2. No alpha hero. Just a sweet guy who cooks, listens, and knows how to fuck. And really, what's the point of that? Why would you want to read about a beta like Sean? Men are weak unless they call the heroine a bitch at least once and practically pee on her to mark territory. Right? RIGHT? 3. Addie doesn't want kids. Seriously. No babies of her own. No secret desire to adopt doe-eyed orphans from Somalia. She's not a normal heroine. Run away! 4. Sex doesn't conform to the formula. While it's smokin' hot, it probably won't be what you expect. You'll be shocked and titillated. Better not risk it. 5. Addie doesn't rely on Sean to solve her problems. She has her shit handled and isn't looking for a white knight (or a secret billionaire) to sweep her off her feet. 6. Addie has tried women. Yes, you read that right. She really is a slut. She touched girl parts on purpose. 7. The book features "beautiful writing" and "gorgeous, evocative imagery." In a romance novel?! Pshaw. Everyone knows romance novels are the lowest of genre fiction. Mystery is always beating up Romance and calling it a whore. 8. Your Alibi features a healthy, loving relationship between Addie and her best friend, Lorene. What? A supportive friend who isn't secretly jealous of the heroine's all around awesomeness? One who doesn't matchmake at stupid / inappropriate times? A best friend who isn't a gay man obsessed with makeovers?! The devil, you say. No, really. It's true. Don't read it. The shock might kill you. 9. Sean's cheating soon-to-be ex-wife isn't a villainess. Don't get too close to this book. The crazy idea that people are just people, all of whom are fallible and imperfect, might rub off. 10. It has penguins in it. 11. Sean doesn't suffer from commitment anxiety. In fact, he's a big, gentle bear, terrified of being released into the wild. No, the hero isn't a bad boy. Definitely don't read this. It's too weird. 12. Your Alibi suffers from a serious lack of angst. Though the characters have issues, they're of the "suck it up and deal" mentality. I know -- that just won't do. Proactive problem solving in lieu of pointless complaining counts as a deal-breaker. 13. The hero and heroine aren't witches, warlocks, vampires, or werewolves. They're not famous, fabulously wealthy, or incredibly beautiful. This is a book about normal people with real problems. I'm just not sure you can handle it. However, if you choose to disregard my warnings, you can acquire Your Alibi from Liquid Silver Books on June 25th.

Labels: Thursday 13

Most of you have probably already seen the Supernatural finale for season two, but I don't want to ruin anything for anyone, just in case. So be aware... spoilers follow below.

I have to say I was disappointed. I'll still watch the show, but I can't believe they killed Sam and then had Dean resurrect him via a demon pact. I found the first part of the episode terribly moving. When he said, "Let it end," to Bobby, I got chills. And I cried when he was talking to Sammy about when they were kids.

But the whole "I'll sell my soul to save you" thing felt very "been there, done that". The fact that the yellow-eyed demon actually says that with regard to hell. Well.

Plus, the story wasn't tightly written. Why, exactly, did they let Jake open the hell gate? Dean knew he'd murdered Sam. It would've made perfect sense for Dean to shoot him in the back of the head, no questions asked. I felt like they let the demons out, just so they'd have shit to hunt in season three.

But despite my disappointment, the show still has plenty of atmosphere. I just hope they don't go all apocalyptic like Angel did just before the show went straight down the shitter. I love Sam and Dean, though, so it doesn't matter. I'd watch it even if they were just doing body shots off each other and telling knock-knock jokes.

What else? Yesterday, at the store, I bought a bunch of healthy, organic cereal. I was terribly amused to see on the box "10% of proceeds donated to world peace." How the hell do I verify something like that? Call up the company? "I expected the world to seem 10% more peaceful today! What's up with that?" And last night I made banana crunch muffins. Weird recipe, called for no butter or oil, but they're tasty.

Oh, here's a random song I heard on the radio and liked. Chumbawamba isn't a one hit wonder!



PS - I wound up listed twice on Publisher's Marketplace. Seeing this on Dear Author thrilled me:

Sounds pretty interesting. Anne Sowards bought Patricia Briggs and Ilona Andrews, two authors on my auto buy list. Ann Aguirre's GRIMSPACE, sci-fi with romantic undertones introducing a jumper whose fractured consciousness holds a secret that could change the world as she knows it, if she lives long enough to remember, to Anne Sowards of Ace, in a nice deal, plus the sequel WANDERLUST, by Laura Bradford of Bradford Literary Agency (world English).

Well, that's a lot of random crap. I'm wrapping it up in pink tissue and silver paper and calling it a blog post. I'm off to write, ya'll. Hope you find something here to amuse you.

Friday:
I did my chapters early, then we went out to lunch with the whole family, who are now back from Europe. I'm up by a new gray and black urban chic bag that has Paris written all over it in various fonts and two silky Pashminas. Mi suegra is catching on. I'm not so much for the souvenir t-shirts, though the kids love them. I'm totally into purses and scarves, though. She managed to bring me back a pair of leather sandals that I quite liked as well.

At any rate, we had a nice lunch at Fonda del Claustro, which means, roughly translated, "inn of the cloister". They do traditional Mexican food, not the kind you get at Taco Bell. The girl had chiles rellenos, the boy had chalaquito de pollo (a kind of really thin grilled chicken) and I ordered albondigas (meatballs, served with rice and beans). They weren't cooked all the way, so I just ate the rice and beans. I can't eat meat if it's bleeding. I should probably be a vegetarian, but I lack the moral resolve.

Then the kids went off with their abuela, leaving Andres and I to exchange words in grownup fashion. That was quite enjoyable. Those who are married with children know what a treat it is to talk to your spouse without interruption. We firmed up plans for what promises to be a crazy summer.

Our satellite receiver was out on the big TV in the den, so we all watched Heroes upstairs on the smaller TV. Since that's in Andres's office, he was quite glad to get rid of us after it was over, I suspect. He and I watched The Replacements after the kids went to bed, and I conceived a crush on Jumbo Fumiko, played by Ace Yonamine, who used to work as a plumber in Hawaii. There's just something about a big guy, y'know? You'll find my love reflected in the homage I pay to the gentle giants via Manu in Your Alibi. I suspect by the time the book is done, you'll want a Samoan of your own.


Saturday
The kids went to Six Flags with their abuela. I did a chapter early, and then Andres and I went to see Zodiac. Different than I expected. Long, but I learned a lot. I had no idea they never caught the guy. Since the movie was almost three hours, we had to get home and wait for the kids. I went back to writing and we ordered salads for dinner from Pan en Via.


Sunday
More writing, and it was so hot, my laptop started giving me trouble. I lost about half a chapter. It's the hottest summer anyone can remember. Thank you, global warming! We're actually considering getting air conditioning wall units for the bedrooms because it's hard to sleep. We went out to lunch at Sanborns and toured the fair that had set up in the parking lot, mostly leather and handcrafted items. I bought a pair of shoes for the girl, homemade soap and body cream for me. It came from a stall that had bees in a display case, and all their products were made using fresh honey. This body cream smells unbelievably divine. So thick the kids said it looks like banana pudding, but when you inhale, it's pure honey. You can see an immediate difference when you apply it on your skin. I didn't finish my words until almost midnight.

So that's what my weekend looked like. Please note, while I'm writing Wanderlust, my online presence will be greatly reduced. Don't take my lack of commentary to mean I've lost interest in you, your blog, or anything of the sort. I just need to focus as I've promised a first draft of this novel by the end of June. I do answer emails so if you need me or you miss me, just drop me a line. I look forward to catching up with everyone when I get done.

It's easier to finish my pages when I'm alone, so that's what I'm heading off to do. Have a great day!

They're hasseling the Hoff!

Hasselhoff, a recovering alcoholic, lost the right to visit his two teenage daughters for two weeks last month after the leak of a videotape that showed him shirtless and apparently drunk, eating a cheeseburger on the floor of his Las Vegas home in April. One of his daughters is heard chastising him.

I highlighted my favorite part. This story inspired me so much, I had to make art about it. I call it LOLHoffs.A Hoff supporter known only as elitebomber had this to say on the subject: "Hasselhoff rocks. He just wants to get hammered and have a cheeseburger and this girl is nagging the hell out of him."

Here at LOLHoffs, we are deeply committed to providing quality Hasselhoff action. Stay tuned for breaking news.

Labels: LOLHoffs

Here's a hint about the chapter I'm working on today.



Let the bodies hit the floor. And have a great weekend, ya'll.