Thursday, October 30, 2008

GUEST: Jenny Gilliam

I'm very happy to have Jenny Gilliam back as my guest again. Her new book sounds just wonderful, and I think you're in for a treat with this terrific excerpt she's offered, so enjoy....


Roxy Palmer is a walking, breathing cliché. And darned tired of it. Working as the assistant librarian in her small, Southern home town, Roxy also anonymously pens the local love column, Ask Paula Rockwell—Thorton, Georgia's answer to Dear Abby.

But when the door leading to Roxy's lifetime dream is slammed in her face by one of the good ol' boys, Roxy brings out the big guns--and turns the genteel town upside down with her racier, feminist, home-wrecking new format.

Paula Rockwell is making Sheriff Noah Kennedy's life crazy. He's got angry husbands lined around the block, demanding the cancellation of the column, fights breaking out and women catching their boyfriends' trucks on fire. If he ever gets his hands on that woman…

But he's got his hands full of Roxy at the moment, and if he ever discovers the truth about Roxy, all hell will break loose.


In the course of one weekend, women had become the bane of Noah’s existence.

He was beyond pissed; he was downright fuming. Between Roxy and Mary Lou’s little excursion to Atlanta and his conversation with Joe this morning, he wanted to rip something, anything apart. With his goddamn bare hands. And teeth.

To compound matters, he had just gotten out of a meeting with Merle Granger, who wanted to know if Noah could do anything about The Gazette and the Paula Rockwell column. Never mind Bobbie Townsend had the First Amendment backing her civil liberties.

He had a nasty headache and a raging case of lust that a twelve-pack of beer and two hundred miles hadn’t been able to put a dent in. He couldn’t yell at Mary Lou, because one look at her face this morning had sent him back the way he’d come.

Well, he would damn well deal with one of them. Noah stormed through the glass doors of the library. His manners abandoned him, a testament to his state of mind, as he failed to remove his Stetson. He scanned the circulation desk for the librarian who was causing mutiny in his body and…heart—no, mind.

“Can I help you, Sheriff?” Alice Monroe asked.

“I’m looking for Roxy.”

“She’s re-shelving books in non-fiction.”

He didn’t have a clue where non-fiction was, but damned if he’d ask. In his current mood, he might unload on the head librarian and get himself banned, Sheriff or no.

It took him under a minute to find her. She stood at the end of the 800’s, a book in her hand, her eyes on the top shelf.

She wore one of those God-awful jumpers, and she had done something to her hair. It floated down her back in sable and crimson waves, and the sides were clipped back by some metal contraption. He felt a wave of unwelcome lust punch him square in the groin. He tried to focus on the shapeless dress she wore, but now he knew what she hid under it.

Soft, pink skin, gorgeous curves and one amazingly perfect ass.

His groin tightened again, irritating him further. He wasn’t supposed to have these feelings for Roxy. Damn it, he wanted things back the way they were. As if she had put some sort of spell on him, bewitching him with her sexy body, he charged forward, ready to give her hell. She’d caused this. If she hadn’t…What? Taken a shower in her own house? Hell, he was more pissed off at himself. For his reaction to her, and her lack of reaction to him. He’d never been in this place before. Women always chased him. All he’d ever had to do was sit back and wait to be caught.

It was unsettling to be the pursuer this time.

Roxy looked up as he approached, her lush mouth forming a little “O” of surprise. He swore she flushed just a little before looking back down at the cart of books she was shelving.

Satisfied he affected her on some level, he stalked toward her.

“I need to talk to you.”

“Really?” she asked. “Well, it’s a good thing you caught me then. I’m awful hard to track down.”

Noah narrowed his eyes. Was she making fun of him? He closed the distance between them, looking hard into her wide green eyes. “You’re damned lucky I’m the law ‘round here, Roxanne.”

In a purely female move, she tilted her head back and fluttered her eyelashes. “Why, Sheriff, I had no idea.”

With frustration and lust dueling inside him, he grabbed her arm and pulled her body flush against him. Her soft, heavy breasts pushed against his chest, and he went from semi to full salute instantly. “I ought to haul your ass into lockup to teach you a lesson.”

All teasing fled. The shallow breaths she dragged into her lungs, and the flush that worked up her pretty neck were all Roxy. Unable to control himself, he pushed her against the metal bookshelf, widening his thighs to cradle hers.

“Noah,” she whispered.

She’d have to be dead from the waist down not feel how she affected him. While the rational part of his brain screamed This is Roxy!, the wild beast straining to break free looked down into her face, into eyes gone emerald with lust, and smiled.

This is Roxy.

Want more? Buy THE TRUTH ABOUT ROXY at

BIO: Jenny began writing at the age of twelve, when she realized the voices talking in her head were characters, not a result of pre-teen induced psychosis. She’s been writing on and off for almost twenty years, but actively pursuing publication for the last three. She lives in Oregon with her husband and two children. She is the author of four novels. Jenny loves to hear from her readers.

You can visit her at

Wednesday, October 22, 2008

A Special Bond...

© Vincenzo Chiofalo

A Special Bond

You are the shadow waiting on the edge of my awareness. A sweet angel who watches, part of me always, like the air that I breathe.

We share a special bond, you and I, one that is stronger than any friendship or simple love. We are tied together by the past and the promise of tomorrow, and though we are not together, we are never really apart.

To the heart that loves like this, a week can be an eternity and a lifetime will never be long enough… Those who love from their souls understand this in a way others can never see, but it is an eternal truth. A bond that can never be broken.

© 2008 Denysé Bridger

Monday, October 20, 2008

GUEST: Douglas Carlton Abrams

WINNER of a copy of Douglas Carlton Abrams' beautiful book is LAURIE D. Thanks to everyone who visited!!

When I was asked to host author Douglas Carlton Abrams on his "virtual book tour" I'd honestly never heard of this book. When I visited the stunning website he's created for it, I was enchanted, and have since spent a lot of time exploring all the wonderful things that are there to be experienced. It's worth a visit, so DO go and discover the magic of this special book, and the equally special author! Just click on the book cover, and you'll soon discover another world. We will also be giving away a copy of this amazing book in a few days, too, so please leave a comment for us, and check back!! You may be the one lucky enough to win a copy of this beautiful book!! Now, my guest: Douglas Carlton Abrams

Was Don Juan truly nothing more than a rapist and a villain? You would certainly think so, judging by how he has been portrayed over the centuries.

From his inception, Don Juan has been depicted as a libidinous scoundrel, capable of rape, misogyny, and even murder. When Tirso de Molina first created the character of Don Juan in the early seventeenth century, he did so as a warning against the dangers of rampant male sexuality and the galanteadores, who were seducing the women of the time. Later, in Mozart and Da Ponte’s opera Don Giovanni, Don Juan rapes a woman and kills her father almost before the curtain even rises.

But would Don Juan have been capable of feeling and doing much more? Male desire can be villainous and overpowering, but it is also multi-dimensional, ranging anywhere from heroic passion to caring tenderness. Any man long rumored to be the world’s greatest lover would certainly have understood these subtler aspects of desire, as well as the unspoken needs of the women he loved.

It is this side of Don Juan’s story that motivated me to write The Lost Diary of Don Juan. I wanted to explore the true nature of love and passion by creating a more complex Don Juan than the one we usually meet. His previous incarnations in plays, novels, and films have only allowed us to see the man from a distance, and we have judged him accordingly. Reading about his life in the form of an historical diary set in Golden Age Sevilla lets us go further into the body, mind, and heart of the man himself. What we find there is far more than an indifferent playboy, but rather a man for whom romance was elevated into an art form, a Casanova with a calling.

This is a Don Juan worthy of far more than mere lust and villainy, a man capable of forming deep and complex relationships with women. This 16th century Don Juan is worth recovering for the 21st century, if only to provide balance in a culture that all too often forgets the true complexity and mystery of desire.

Wednesday, October 15, 2008

New Release!

Available TODAY!

Blood Wine and Pale Roses
From: The Wild Rose Press
Erotic Vampire Romance


Eden Colbourne has spent most of her life pursuing dreams that never quite came true. Running from yet another failed relationship, she seeks solace in the familiar surroundings of England's countryside, and her art. Drawn to the remnants of the abbey, she spends her days sketching the face of a man she believes is a ghost haunting both the abbey and her heart. The reality is even more disturbing...

When Sean Rourke finally reveals himself to her, Eden discovers the ghost is a creature of myth and dark dreams. Turned into a vampire by the man for whom his wife betrayed him, Sean is tormented and lonely, and more afraid of Eden's power to make him love than she is of his nocturnal curse. It isn't until the ancient vampire who made him returns to claim Eden that Sean is forced to decide once and for all if he can let go of the shade of his wife, and permit love to heal what remains of his humanity...

Saturday, October 11, 2008

Guest Blogger: DONNA HATCH

Today, my special guest is Regency author Donna Hatch. The book sounds fabulous, doesn't it? Welcome Donna, and thank you for being her today...

Do you long to dance with Mr. Darcy or flirt with Mr. Ferrar? Do you fantasize of regency bad boys like rakes, highwaymen, and pirates? Do you swoon at the sight of a man on horseback or engaging in a duel?

Welcome to the magical and mysterious Regency world where men were civilized and cultured, educated in dance, art and literature, and yet engaged in manly pursuits like hunting, fencing and the steeplechase. Imagine yourself in the glittering world of dukes and duchesses, libertines and lovers. Wear beautiful gowns, waltz with a viscount, outwit a killer, and fall in love.

Announcing a debut novel by award-winning author Donna Hatch - The Stranger She Married, a sweet, yet sensual regency romance with adventure, intrigue, a love triangle, and a terrible secret.

Torn between a disfigured war hero with the heart of a poet, and a handsome libertine who may not be all he seems, impoverished Alicia must marry by the end of the month. Despite a murder threat looming over her, learning to love the stranger she married may pose the greatest danger of all … to her heart.

Order on line at Look for me on the new release list, or on the English Tea Rose Line.

Monday, October 06, 2008

Guest Blog: J.L. MILES

Today it is my pleasure to have Jackie (J.L.) Miles as my special guest. The book she's talking about, Cold Rock River, is an amazing read, believe me! And, we'll be giving away a copy of this book, hardcover, on WEDNESDAY, October 8th, so do check back for your chance to win, okay? Now, over to Jackie....


I started my writing career when our children left home and my husband insisted they weren’t coming back unless they needed money. Previously, I wanted to be a movie star, but when the mirror confirmed that my theatrical-clock had not only stopped ticking, it was at the cemetery, I thought writing might be a better choice. While at the dentist waiting on a root canal—never make career decisions while waiting on a man with a knitting needle who intends to stab you in the mouth with it—I picked up a tattered paperback entitled The Writer's Little Instruction Book.

Spooky! I was merely contemplating the idea of becoming a N.Y. Times bestselling author and the perfect manual appeared. Surely God, his angels, and all the saints were trying to tell me something, right? I didn’t consider that maybe the devil and his deceivers were having a good laugh. The book listed 365 (give or take) secrets for writing and getting published. Perfect! It was an omen. In 365 days I’d be on the bestsellers list. I simply needed to master one little ol’ secret a day. The first one I came across was the key to a successful story. It was threefold: 1. Get your protagonist up a tree. 2. Put a tiger under the tree. 3. Get your protagonist out of the tree.

Elementary! I was on my way and about to discover secret #2, when the receptionist called my name. It was time for my root canal. Piece of cake—I was on a mission to greatness. Not even that flashing knitting needle held high in Dr.I-Forget-his-name’s hand would stop me now. Four injections (the first three didn’t take), and two hours later I drove home not the least bit interested in the N. Y. Times, its bestsellers list, or who was on it.

Tomorrow, I’d begin the great American novel, the minute my feet hit the floor, the instant my brain met the coffee. However—don’t you hate that word?—I forgot about one character defect I’ve struggled with most of my life: I’m a world class procrastinator. If they ever give out Pulitzer’s on the subject, I’ll be a major contender. Not to say I don’t get things done. I do. But I tend to do them one minute before time’s up.

Procrastination is not a good attribute for an author. All the best books on writing (there are slews of good ones; here are my favorites: Anne Lamott, Elizabeth Berg, Julie Cameron, Stephen King—and Walter Mosely's brand new contribution), state clearly that writers are to place themselves before the computer (or notepad, or typewriter) at precisely the same time each day for precisely the same amount of pre-determined hours each day (weekends and holiday included), in order to not only hone one’s craft, but to complete the manuscript at hand. Ahhh. . .that might be a problem.

The moment I get out of bed, I tend to explore the world around me and assess the damages, making a list as I go. Stupid little things like, I forgot to do the laundry, again and there’s no clean underwear, the milk’s sour, there’s nothing to eat but cat food, the garbage hasn’t been dragged to the curb in a month, and the refrigerator filter hasn’t been changed since we invaded Iraq. The list grows as I walk from room to room. Are those fur balls under the dining room table really having grandchildren? Can’t be, last week they were barely parents. I climb under to investigate. I meander from room to room, procrastination taking over the morning. I get out the phone book. Surely there’s an organization that can assist me. There has to be. I’m on the verge of being a bestselling author! I need recovery.

The yellow page lists Alcoholics Anonymous, Overeaters Anonymous, Cheaters Anonymous, Kleptomaniacs Anonymous and Sex Addicts Anonymous. There are groups for Obsessive Compulsion Disorder, Attention Deficit Disorder, and Bi-Polar Disorder, but absolutely no procrastinators support group. There must be an organization meeting somewhere. Actually a helpline would be my choice. A number I could call the moment I find no underwear I’m willing to wear or encounter a chore I’m tempted to do—featuring a commanding voice like my mothers that will instruct me to immediately march over to my computer and bolt myself to the chair for a minimum of three hours, and call her in the morning.

I look through the entire collection of yellow pages I’ve amassed, as well as the local newspaper’s classified ads and find nothing to assist me. Obviously, I’m one of a mere handful of major procrastinators in existence. There are simply not enough of us to require a network of supporters. Yikes! I’m on my own. I search the room for answers and spot my computer. It’s waiting, perfectly able to do my bidding. And I only have 364 more secrets to master. Glory be—I’m ready to discover them!

I dash to the computer, sit down triumphantly, and put my hands on the keys. At last! I’m ready to write the great American novel. However—the phone rings. It’s my mother. She’s waiting on me. “Did you forget you need to take me to the dentist?” Ahhh. . .yeh, I did, but I don’t tell her. “I’m on my way!” I say instead. I get up from my computer and grab my car keys.

Tomorrow, I’d begin the great American novel, the minute my feet hit the floor, the instant my brain met the coffee.

J. L. (Jackie Lee) Miles is the author of Cold Rock River, the critically acclaimed Roseflower Creek, and the soon to be released Dwayne Series. Divorcing Dwayne debuts April 2008. Dear Dwayne & Dating Dwayne to follow.

Write to Jackie at
Visit the website at

**WINNER** of the copy of COLD ROCK RIVER is Lainey Bancroft.

Thursday, October 02, 2008

The heart that makes us whole....

Sometimes, the heart that makes us complete is very far away.... So many people have seen the beauty of our words, the adoration that I can't contain, and the warmth and passion that seems to be part of every contact we make.... This lovely image was created by a special friend, a lady who sees magic when she looks at these two people and believes in the romance.... Thanks, Catt. For this, and so much more....