Hero Meets Dog by Jannine Gallant

So, after fifteen books, you may have noticed I put a dog in every single one of them. Some dogs play a greater role than others, but they are each unique in their own way. My purpose, other than feeling like it's sort of a trademark at this point, is too add an extra touch of humanity to my characters--because a hero who relates to an animal has to be loveable, right? Oh, and a little comic relief. Most of my canine characters are pretty funny. Wilde One is no different, although I'd have to say hero-meets-dog happens in a pretty unique way. Here's the excerpt.

A big rig thundered by, and Ainslee let out a squeal. But when the Mack truck passed, the dog—if the damned animal was a dog and not a big rat—was still cowering in the slow lane. She leaped out of the car.

“Holy crap!” Griff shoved open his door then slammed it. “No, Ainslee. Stay back. I’ll grab him.”

Horn blaring, a white pickup barreled nearer. Sprinting forward, Griff dashed out into the freeway to scoop the quivering bundle off the pavement. Brakes screeched, but he made it to the edge of the road with a foot or two to spare. The animal in his hand growled.

Griff’s gaze clashed with terrified brown eyes. “Don’t think about biting me.”

Jogging back to the SUV, he handed the tiny critter to Ainslee. Remarkably, it didn’t make any threatening noises at her. Cradling the dog against her chest, she climbed into the car. After running around the rear of the vehicle, he opened the driver’s door and slipped inside then waited for a string of cars to pass before pulling back onto the freeway. They’d gone at least a mile before his heart stopped pounding.

“It’s okay, baby. You’re safe.”

Baby? Oh, she’s talking to the damned dog.

“God, I must be crazy. That truck almost killed me.”

“Thank you, Griff. It would have broken my heart to see this sweet boy get squashed.”

           He noticed she didn’t mention the state of her heart if he’d been turned into a grease spot by oncoming traffic.

So, what do you think? Is Griff hero-worthy for risking life and limb for a miniature pup? Do you like your romance with a side of doggy humor?

Here's my own personal canine comedian...Ginger.

You can pick up your copy of Wilde One at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Apple, or KOBO to see how it all turns out for Griff and Ainslee. Find more info on all my books on my website. Happy reading!

A Scattering of Commas by Betsy Ashton

This may be the nerdiest post yet from me. It's a minor rant about grammar.

When you stop and think about it, writing is like recombinant DNA: Throw a bunch of mouse DNA into a blender, add a dash of bat DNA, a pinch of cat DNA, and push blend. What comes out could be a better mouse of a cat that can fly.

Writing takes twenty-six letters, if you use the Western alphabet, and a handful of silly marks to let a writer craft something on paper that has a semblance of brilliance. Twenty-six letters. Scatter them across a page. Shake them in a bag with flour. Put them on keys in a nearly incomprehensible order. What gives with the QWERTY keyboard anyway? Or, sharpen a cupful of pencils and lay out a stack of legal pads. It doesn't take much more than that to get started.

Oh, wait, you say. What about those silly marks? What about the rules that "govern" them? Well, that is a dilemma. We seem to have more exceptions to the rules than rules themselves. Periods and question marks are fairly easy. They mark the end of a complete sentence or a sentence fragment ("hair ball," cry grammarians), or they mark a question. Either way, they are found at the end of a sentence. Do you use a question mark when you ask a rhetorical question. A colon can function as a kind of period:  As a writer, I like colons. I try to use no more than one per chapter: Sometimes I use more.

Semi-colons defy logic. I mean, who said they can't be used in dialogue? So, if I want to create a series of similar items, do I use a comma or semi-colon? If I have a sentence, which contains multiple clauses, do I use the semi-colon? Like in Johnny and Mack walked to the store to buy candy; Lydia met them there, because she wanted them to treat her; and Suzie ran into them with her car. Okay, that makes absolutely no sense, but you get my gist. What if this was in dialogue? I couldn't use the semi-colon, or could I? I could break this into three sentences, or I could remember that the Delete key is my friend.

It's the lowly comma that gives writers more angina than anything else. To comma or not to comma, that is the question. Whether it is nobler to use them correctly or be creative...

I mentor a first-time writer. We've had interesting discussions about that lowly comma. He doesn't favor commas here:  "Look, Michael, we have to fix this." Nope, If he had his way, there's be no commas in that sentence. Serial commas, as in a, b, and c are alien beings. So are commas before constructions like, "I'm going, too." I think he'd take the comma off his keyboard, if he could.

Just when we were making a ton of progress, along comes a Pulitzer Prize winner that doesn't use quotation marks to set off dialogue. I think you can count the number of quotation marks on both hands. A block of text can have a dozen changes in speaker, some demarked by dialogue tags, like he said. Or not. Some changes in dialogue are set off by action following what I thought was a quote. Once I figured out how to read the book, I couldn't put it down. Of course my mentee had to pick it up one day. He said, "Hey, he doesn't use quote marks. Why do I have to?" My response: because you haven't won a Pulitzer. When you do, you can dismiss grammar.

I'm thinking about running a test:  scatter all the letters of the alphabet onto a piece of paper, had a handful of commas, a period or two, rinse, stir and dry. I wonder what I would end up with. What do you think? Is this worth an experiment, or should I spend an hour looking at kitten videos on Facebook?

###

Betsy Ashton is the author of Mad Max, Unintended Consequences, and Uncharted Territory, A Mad Max Mystery, now available at Amazon and Barnes and Noble. I'm really excited that the trade paper edition of Uncharted Territory was released this week. Please follow me on my website, on Twitter, Facebook and Goodreads.

What A Week It’s Been by Donna Michaels

Hello, it’s Donna Michaels, sorry I’m late, but considering the past ten days, I guess it’s fitting that I scramble to get this post written. J

Last week, I was hanging out with the amazing Rolynn Anderson at InD’Scribe Author/Reader Convention in Burbank, California where we both won awards! Woot! Rolynn was 2^nd Runner-up in the Romantic Suspense category of the RONE Awards with FEAR LAND! Congrats, Rolynn! And I was shocked to win 1^st Runner up with COWBOY PAYBACK and then 2^nd Runner-up with LOCKE AND LOAD in the Cops, Jocks, and Cowboys Contemporary category! Still in shock!  Here’s a photo of me holding them, taken by my real-life hero, my hubby, while I stood in front of one of my favorite hero inspirations…J

The convention was great with several informative and fun panels, but you can ask Rolyn, I missed a few and had to juggle my time because I was on deadline and writing every spare second. Bless my editor, she was on standby and editing the chunks of story I sent her every day because the novella I was writing was due for upload in Paige Tyler’s Dallas Fire & Rescue Kindle World no later than Tuesday because the launch was Thursday. So I had to write, edit, then format the book. Yeah, crazy, but doable. And I did—able. lol Phew.

Even managed to get two hours sleep before hubby and I hit Universal Studios on Sunday before we flew back home on Monday.

Here's a photo of my husband at Universal, trying on a fabulous hat.

I like to call this Dino-Michael :-)

I’m happy to report I uploaded on time. Launched on time. And oh my goodness, WHINE AND RESCUE hit #1 in Romance in Kindle Worlds for several days this week, and is currently at #3!!  Can you believe that? I can't believe that, hence the screen shots I took on release day. :-)

Thank you to all who helped make that possible. I am truly humbled by your support. <3

In case you're interested, here's the cover and blurb to the novella I mostly wrote last week in California.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01MA3732S

The brother of her sister’s fiancé is hotter than a Texas summer and back in Dallas making Layla Pickett want things she can’t have. Him. It doesn’t stop her from fantasizing though, especially since he often frequents her coffee shop—Coffee Cats—a place she opened for the firefighters to destress with kittens and cats while grabbing a quick coffee and a bite to eat. Although, whenever he’s near a very different destresser comes to mind.

Noah Donovan knew being around his future sister-in-law’s sister was going to be tougher than leaving his buddies in his guard unit and fire house up in the Poconos of PA. He’s faced bullets, bombs, and fires with those men, but returning to Dallas is even more dangerous. No amount of turnout or guard gear can protect him from the attraction that sizzle between him and Layla. And when he visits her shop, it’s not the cats he wants to play with.

But even if she is willing to take a chance on a guy who is about to become a permanent extended part of her family, will the fact her godfather is his captain put a damper on their heat?

~~***~~***~~

 All that rushing and scrambling and sacrificing is worth it, and I’ll keep reminding myself of that as I begin to scramble to write a novella and novel by Nov. 13^th. But first, I think I need to sleep for two days.

Have a great October! Thanks for reading,

~Donna

www.DonnaMichaelsAuthor.com

That First Big Kiss by Alison Henderson

We all know the first kiss is a critical point in any romance novel. So much hangs on it. It's usually the couple's first intimate contact, and the nature of the kiss depicts where the couple is in their relationship at that point. Does the hero steal a kiss from the reluctant heroine? Does he force it on her? Does she ambush him? Or do they come together in a mutual expression of passion? It all depends on the characters and the situation in which they find themselves at that moment.

My new bodyguard romance, BOILING POINT, begins with mutual suspicion and multiple mistaken identities. This hero and heroine are not going to fall blissfully into each other's arms while each suspects the other of being a potentially dangerous criminal. On top of that, my heroine bears the psychological scars of a previous attempted sexual assault. They spar--verbally and physically--for several chapters before their first attempt at a kiss, and they're foiled before they really begin. They continue to learn more about each other and have another near miss before they're ready to try again in earnest.

With that in mind, here's the first successful kiss from BOILING POINT:

Before Zoë’s hand touched the knob, Nick slipped between her and the door. She had to pull up short to keep from running face-first into his broad chest. Taking a half step back, she lifted her chin, and sent him a questioning look.

“There’s something more I want to say.”

His voice rumbled in his chest, it’s deep tone sending goosebumps up her arms. Her heart fluttered in her chest. Was he going to try to kiss her again?

“I’m sorry for the way I acted.”

Not what she’d expected. Zoë released her breath and relaxed a fraction. “It’s my fault. I woke you up.”

“Not then… earlier… in the kitchen. When you so graciously pointed out my shortcomings.”

She glanced down at the ratty old green shag carpeting. “About that…I probably could have been more…um…diplomatic.”

He slipped a forefinger under her chin and tipped it up until she met his gaze. “No, you were right. I’ve never taken criticism well—just ask my former lieutenant. I overreacted.”

“Let’s agree we both could have handled the conversation more professionally and leave it at that.” She offered her hand. “Deal?”

His hand enveloped hers with heat and strength, squeezing lightly. “Deal.”

When she tried to release her grasp, he tightened his hold and gave a little tug, drawing her forward. “I’m wide awake now.”

“I can see that.”

He pulled her steadily forward until his face loomed above hers and only inches separated their lips. “You could stay a while and keep me company.”

“I could, but then you’d get no dinner.”

His voice dropped even lower as his head came down and one arm slid behind her back. “Maybe I’m hungry for something besides food.”

As his lips drew closer, Zoë’s chest tightened, but she fought back, refusing to let the old panic overtake her. Instead, she focused on the solid reality of the man in front of her.

This is Nick. You’re safe.

His warm breath fanned her lips, and his strong arm supported her like a branch of her favorite climbing tree back home. She felt nothing but a kindling excitement deep inside. He wasn’t holding her too tightly—she knew she could escape if she needed to—but he’d aroused her curiosity, among other things. At the moment all she wanted was to taste him.

Nick’s kiss was tentative at first, but as soon as she moved her mouth, his arms tightened around her. As he increased the pressure, Zoë steeled herself against the sense of suffocation, but it never came.

Instead, a warm tingle spread from her lower abdomen to her breasts and down her arms to her fingertips.

He moved one hand up and speared his fingers through her hair, cradling her head and holding it steady while he teased her lips open. She half-expected his other hand to go wandering in search of more titillating destinations, but it remained firmly welded to her back.

After a few minutes that seemed like an eternity, he slowed and ended with one last, lingering kiss before releasing her lips.

She rested her head against his chest and listened to the rhythmic thuds of his heart while she regained her breath. She ran her tongue over her lips, missing the feel of him already. Kissing Nick had been a revelation on many levels. He was unlike any man she’d ever known—certainly unlike any she’d kissed. He hadn’t tried to overwhelm or push her. He’d taken his time, leashed his passion. Maybe that was the reason the old fears had lost their teeth.

With a gentle push she slipped out of his arms. There was something oddly endearing about the confused frustration on his face. She smiled and touched his hard jaw. “That was delightful, but I’ve got to cook dinner. You know the old saying—man cannot live on love alone.”

Nick grabbed her wrist and gave her fingers a light nip. “I don’t think that’s how the quote goes. Besides, who said anything about love?”

Nobody. “You can’t live on sex alone, either.”

      “I’d be willing to give it a try.”

BOILING POINT is available from Amazon in paperback and kindle formats at http://amzn.to/2cw9hPX

Alison
www.alisonhenderson.com 

Low-fat Sci-fi Romance by Christine DePetrillo

I’ve written many contemporary romances, a few paranormals, some poetry, and nonfiction. My new series, The Shielded Series, is what I’m calling “low-fat sci-fi romance.” It has a contemporary feel with a few splashes of sci-fi to change things up a bit.

Let’s face it, the Star Trek version of the future is not going to happen within our lifetimes. I become more and more certain of this as time passes on and still no food replicators, no transporters, no Star Fleet Academy. Once in a great while I hear news of some amazing scientific discovery, but nothing that leads me to believe we’re on the cusp of meeting extraterrestrials or truly revolutionizing the way we live.

Hence the birth of my low-fat sci-fi romance—all the fun of pushing the technological envelope without the pesky, overly-intellectual scientific jargon. Happily ever afters, of course, are still guaranteed.

SAFE, Book One in The Shielded Series, takes place in the year 2025 and has hovercopters, genetically-engineered characters, a deadly plague, and a ruined global landscape thanks to science. Life isn’t easy for my main characters, but they’re doing the best they can considering the circumstances. They’re approachable too because the sci-fi parts are just a light frosting on the story. Not many calories at all. Easy to swallow and digest. No additional sit-ups required after consuming. Darina and Foster aren’t that much different from you and me of 2016. Their struggles are relatable even if they are living a few hops ahead on the timeline. Fears, pride, needs, desires—those don’t go away in the future.

To really dial back on the sci-fi, I gave the main character a wooded sanctuary where the living is about as natural as you can get. This serene setting balances out the gritty rubble of the decimated city. I give you equal doses of the hard, just-trying-to-make-it-through-the-day survival mode of Boston in 2025 and the take-a-deep-breath-of-mountain-fresh-air-and-hug-some-trees living of Vermont.

This all combines to give you a reading experience that stretches imagination, warms the heart, and gives us hope that things can work out even in the future.

Low-fat sci-fi romance.

Here’s a short excerpt to illustrate what I mean:

“Foster, c’mon. This roof isn’t going to hold much longer.” Darina took another step closer, wary of the gaping hole in the roof beside Foster. Heat and smoke poured from it as well as other places on the roof.

He reached forward and put his hand in hers. With a tug, she pulled him to his feet and they ran to the hovercopter.

She didn’t let go of his hand. Not when she climbed into the craft. Not when he climbed in right behind her. Not when they settled in their seats. Not when she signaled to Ghared to get the hell off that roof. The hovercopter ascended vertically, leaving Foster’s building a flaming beacon below them. Banking around the neighboring buildings, the craft jetted toward Emerge Tech’s walls.

Foster let go of her hand then to lean forward to Ghared. “Those walls have a security field above them.”

“Yeah, no shit.” Ghared shot him a sideways glance. “But I got in, didn’t I?” He reached over and smacked the leg of his copilot—Zeke.

Darina had been surprised to see Zeke in the hovercopter, but Ghared told her he hadn’t wanted to leave the kid behind so soon after a seizure. She immediately regretted calling her buddy for help, but he was the only one who could get them out of there in one piece.

She loved him for not leaving Zeke behind, even if the kid looked pale and groggy in his seat now. His dark mass of hair was sticking out at odd angles as if he’d been ripped out of a death-level slumber, which he no doubt had been. She fought the urge to pull Zeke into the back seat and into her lap, wanting nothing more than to comfort him. 

Foster leaned back in his seat beside her. “Is our pilot’s confidence warranted, or should I be concerned?” He touched the gash on his forehead and frowned at the blood dotting his fingertips. He unzipped his pocket and extracted his tablet.

“I wouldn’t have called someone incompetent for help. I make a point of only associating with useful people,” Darina said, watching Foster power up his tablet and attempt—unsuccessfully—to doctor the gash in his forehead.

She slid closer to him and held out her hand for the tablet. After he slid it into her hand, she focused on lining up the injury in the tablet’s viewfinder. She absolutely did not notice how beautifully green his eyes were or how long his dark eyelashes were or how wonderfully that black stubble framed his tempting lips. She barely registered the artistic way his tattoo swirled up from his neck to his ear. Nope. Didn’t see a thing.

Grumbling to herself, she scanned his wound and it sealed itself. She reached under the pilot’s seat and grabbed a first aid kit, which no doubt was an antique to Foster. Rummaging around in it, she found a cleansing wipe and gave him one to wash the blood off his forehead.

As she stowed the first aid kit back under the pilot’s seat, she said, “You’ll live.”

“Thanks.” His voice also sounded as if he had tried—and failed—to not notice anything about her face as she’d tended to him.     

  

So if you’re looking for something that has a contemporary flavor with a dash of science our time doesn’t quite have yet, try The Shielded Series. Darina and Foster are waiting for you in SAFE, Book One, and promise not to ruin your diet.

Toodles,

Chris

www.christinedepetrillo.weebly.com

Recharging time

I'm heading out soon to travel to a casino where I will be plotting murder all weekend.

This is an annual getaway I have with some writer friends. We go to the casino, have intensive brainstorming sessions for each person's work in progress, with breaks to eat, drink, and gamble. It's a little bit of heaven on earth as far as I'm concerned. There is something about being around like-minded people that just makes my brain zing.

I have 2 ideas I want to bounce off of them for new manuscripts in the Remembered Classics series. If anyone can help me find a way to twist a few fairy tales, it'll be this group.

It's important to have the right mix of people when you have get-togethers like this. We're all at different stages of our careers, but we all respect and value the input we get from others. We have a loose format that we follow (time slots for each person) with plenty of down time to let folks recharge.

It's surprising to me how much I get out of helping other people brainstorm their plots. It's like new pathways open in my mind and I start to think about new plot points and character arcs in a whole new way. This kind of interaction is really valuable for a writer because I think it helps keep us from getting stale.

So wish me luck at the slot machines -- I'll report back in later this month. I know I'll be a winner because I'll have a great time. Whether or not I come away with any cash is another matter entirely.

J L Wilson
(jayellwilson.com)

You'll Never Believe What I Did Next!

~ By Vonnie Davis (Hereafter known as Cranky Author, or CA)

For months I've fussed about my editor at Random House wanting to change my voice and my feeble attempts at trying to march lock-step in line with her changing demands. And you all know I don't march, I tend to schlep, stopping here and there to admire the flowers or stare off at a cloud formation in the sky. No, I don't do marching. Heck, it's all I can do to manage normal.

Trying on hats in a souvenir shop. Is it me? I didn't think so either.

My editor emailed to ask if I was happy writing my bear shifters. She knew how upset I'd been when they rejected MR. OH, a romance I'd written specifically to her criteria--like a literary pharmacist filling their prescriptions. I replied that I was. I was in my comfort zone of the dual personas and the delightful Scottish burr. I also included an excerpt of Kendric as he leaves Mathe Bay, home of the original series, to take the ferry to Sonas Isle, locale for this new series. Warning:  Even with Scottish spelling, some words may offend and, for that, I'm sorry.

Unlocking his SUV, Kendric belted himself in once he settled behind the steering wheel. That’s when he allowed the vision of Jaimie to surface, just as she had so many nights in his dreams. Long, blond hair the color of honey that she usually wore in a braid. Green eyes like Highland pines. Wide hips the way he liked them with an arse that bore watching as it swayed from side to side when she walked. She was a bonny lass and, damn, she could kiss, too. His kilt tented a wee bit at the memory of her lush body flush against his. Hell, he’d better think on something else.

Yer awfully quiet, bear. The last time ye were this silent was after ye heard Ronan’s bear had picked a name for himself and ye got a wild hair up yer hairy arse to have one of yer own.

Kendric started his vehicle and eased out of the parking lot.

Aye, and a fine name I picked, too.

‘Tis nay name for a feckin’ bear. Ronan’s bear picked Magnus, a tough name. It shows strength. Kendric checked both ways for traffic before pulling onto the road, making a right at the second traffic light that would take him to Galswren where the dock for the ferry to Sonas Isle was located.

Mine is just as good.  To be named after Maizie’s ferocious dog was an honor. We fished for many a salmon together.

I repeat, ʼtis nay name for a feckin’ bear. ʼTis why I refuse to use it. Kendric’s temper rose. He’d put up with his bear’s foul mood for days. As soon as Creighton had talked to Kendric about leaving his job as a police detective in Mathe Bay to replace the current sheriff on the remote island of Sonas Isle, his bear had made every waking and sleeping minute of his life bloody hell. While he ken Jaimie moved to the island after inheriting her aunt's property, his bear had nay idea until Creighton mentioned it just now when he'd said his farewells.

Ye ken Jaimie is the woman I claimed for ye back when ye first met her. If ye behave yerself like the proper gentleman I ken ye to be, ye can woo her and win her heart.

Kendric scoffed as he turned onto the road leading toward the ferry’s dock. Och, as if I’d take fokin’ romantic advice from a bear named Spot.

The editor replied she didn't like it.  She didn't want the human and the bear talking to each other. She didn't want the bear to have his own pov. I responded it was "just like a woman trying on a dress in a store. The feminine side of thinks I love how this looks on me! The practical side responds Do you really need it? Have you looked at the price tag? One woman with two opposing opinions arguing within her.

"I also thought you were allowing my creativity free reign on this series. You gave me a list of criteria and I've complied with them all. Do you micromanage all your authors this way or only me?" Yeah, I was a couple shades beyond livid and my fingers were running amuck over the keyboard.

She asked me if I wanted out of the contract.

I replied that I felt it would be for the best. That writing no longer held any joy for me. I was eight chapters into this book only to find out, to make her happy, most of it would have to go.

Remember the "Cranky Author" moniker at the beginning of this post? Well, there's a reason for that. A few years ago, I fired my agent. This time I fired my publisher, the biggest one in the world. I don't know if that makes me brave or dumb as a rock.

We did part on good terms. She told me I was more than free to submit again if "the right story for the market" came along. Since she doesn't like humor. I don't see that happening. I have a six month period from the release of the final book of each series before I can self-publish another book in the series or use any of the characters I created for the series. No problem there. Since none of the Sonas Isle Shifter books were released yet, I was free to publish at will. 

So, I was mentally prepared to go completely Indie. Being able to write what I wanted the way I wanted felt incredibly good. I'd have a new label: Hybrid Author. Not to be confused with Cranky Author.

Then I got an email from an editor at another publisher. A couple months ago, after Random House had rejected MR. OH, I'd sent three chapters and a synopsis to a couple other pubs. I was in an "I'll show them" frame of mind. A few days later as my spirits sank, I figured they wouldn't like it either and I'd put it out of my mind. Now, one of then wanted a full.

But there was no full to send her. I was so depressed and doubtful of myself as a writer, I'd laid it aside to work on the new shifter series. What had I done? What writer in his or her right mind submits a book that's not even a third written? Don't answer that!

So, I swallowed what little pride I had left and responded to the editor, telling her I had placed the book aside to work on a bearshifter series. If she didn't mind waiting, I'd gladly shift projects to deliver MR. OH to her. She replied she didn't care about waiting; she just wanted to read the entire book.

Okay, leave Scotland and drop the lyrical burr. Land in Philly ASAP. Go from writing in third person to first and get this puppy done. And if she doesn't want it, no biggie, I'll just self-publish it. More and more I feel like my author's bio. "Vonnie likens herself to a freshly baked croissant: Warm, crusty, wrinkled, and a tad flaky--best served with strong coffee."

www.vonniedavis.com