posted online at Running With Quills July 10, 2008

PDAs—for or against?

Once upon a time a friend and I went to visit another friend in the hospital. While we were there a young couple came to visit our sick friend as well. As we were occupying the only available chairs in the room, they stood to converse. After a bit, the husband moved behind his wife and wrapped his arms around her waist. Occasionally he would snuggle her close as he visited with our sick friend.

I like seeing people display affection so I didn't think anything of it. They just looked like kids in love to me and I'm always happy to bear witness to folks in love. But my friend made a comment later that made it clear she thought it was inappropriate, that a hospital room was no place for cuddling. I didn't quite get what she was objecting to. Since then, however, I've discovered public displays of affection are a hot button for a lot of people.

Now I've been known to indulge in the occasional PDA myself. I've been married nearly forty years and my husband and I still hold hands when we walk. We've kissed each other in, yep, public. I'm not talking hot and heavy tongue action, but still, a kiss. There's just so much crap in the world, so much violence and hate, that I'm not sure I understand why anyone would find that objectionable. If people aren't actually having sex in public or a too-close-for-comfort simulation, what's a kiss, a hug, a cuddle between those who bear another obvious affection?

But that's probably the point, isn't it? What's comfortable for one person can be very much not so for another. Clearly, my comfort level is high in this arena. But what about your own? C'mon, you can tell me. We don't have to agree. I'd just be interested in hearing your opinion.

 

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posted online at Running With Quills June 26, 2008

We have a play date with Carly Phillips!!

I have a special guest today! Carly Phillips has been rockin' the bestseller lists (Can you say NYT, USAToday, Waldenbooks and. . . well, pretty much everything) for several years now. She writes funny, sexy contemporary romance and you all know that works for me! Her latest is Hot Property.

But rather than have me talk about Carly, let's do something more interesting and let her speak for herself. Oh, but first--not only do we have a cool guest, but she comes bearing gifts! Carly's going to autograph a copy of Hot Property for one lucky poster, so check back tomorrow night to see whose name was drawn.

Welcome, Carly!!

****************************************************************

Giving Birth to and Raising Children
(the human kind and the kind made of paper)

Just last week, My husband and I had a very tough time with my oldest teenager. Without going into details, thank goodness she is OK. We are very grateful and hope lessons were learned. This experience led me to think about how children don’t come with instruction manuals and as parents, all we can do is our very best. The same can be said of my other children – my books.

Unlike my real children, who I hopefully can continue to teach and grow and mold into healthy safe and happy adults, there reaches a point in the birth of a book, when we must send them out into the world with no further say in who they are and what they become. We put them out to there and expose them to the world, virtues, vices and all. Just like our kids, only they never change.

Hot Property is my current book out now. It’s the last book in the Hot Zone Series of books (Hot Stuff, Hot Number, Hot Item and now Hot Property) and it forces me to say goodbye to this set of children and begin the process of raising/creating new ones.

Unlike some authors, I am able to move on to a new book fairly easily because I get a rush of excitement each time I start something new. That is, until the hard part of actually developing the characters begins!

And as a reader, when my favorite author finishes a series or a book, I’m sad – but I’m already excited for the next one – regardless of what they’re writing. (Unless it’s a complete genre switch but that’s for another blog, since I tend to only read romance!)

So I’m wondering … Authors out there – do you move from ending one book or series easily and jump into the next? Or do you angst?

And Readers (the people we, as authors, count on) – as much as you know you will miss the end of a series of books, do you get excited by the start of a new one by your favorite author? Or do you need to read it and see if it will strike you before the excitement kicks in?

 

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posted online at Running With Quills June 24, 2008

Trash Talking

The RITA is Romance Writers of America's highest award, so when I received my very first nomination this year for Coming Undone it was a pretty big thrill for me. Since then, however, I've had an even bigger thrill--getting to know several of my sister nominees.

Diana Holquist contacted the eight nominees (well seven, plus her if you wanna be literal) and proposed we do a trash talk video to spoof ourselves. She put us all together, enlisted Lindsay Farber to produce the final result and wrote the story board.

The latter went through some changes. Hey, you didn't really think you could involve this many writers and not have all of us put our two cents in, did you? But without Diana it never would have gotten off the ground.

Not everyone was comfortable with the idea. I wasn't at first, since I tend to get uber selfconscious when video cameras are pointed my way and I'm expected to say something brilliant, or, okay even comprehensible. But the whole trash talking concept sounded like way too much fun not to stretch my comfort level.

And I'm so glad I did. Because those of us who ended up doing this video had a blast. And as Toni Blake pointed out, we got the extra added bonus of bonding over it. I was blown away at how natural and funny my sister finalists were--they just cracked me up. And win or lose, I'm truly privileged to be included in such marvelous company.

So, here it is. I hope you get as big a kick out of watching it as I did participating in it.

 

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posted online at Running With Quills June 19, 2008

Meet Virginia Kantra!

Have I got a treat for you! I was introduced to Virginia Kantra's books when I judged one in the Ritas a couple of years ago. It knocked my socks off, so I wrote to tell her so. And this is one generous woman, lemme tell you. She sent me the Trouble in Eden series that she'd written for Silhouette Intimate Moments.

Well. . . generous or wicked. Because can you say, "Wanna free book, little girl?""
Now I'm a stone VK junkie.

And I'm not the only one, clearly. Romantic Times gave Sea Witch four stars and called it “an emotional journey of discovery and an intriguing launch into a compelling new series.”

At WritersAreReaders.com, Suzanne Brockmann wrote:
“A paranormal world that moves with the rhythm of the waves and the tide… Kantra tells Margred and Caleb's story with a lyric, haunting, poetic voice.”

Fresh Fiction said:
“Sea Witch is a fantastic story full of excitement, humor, suspense and loads of hot, hot sex. (Susan, who scored an early copy, interrupts to say: Oh, yeah) This paranormal is so interesting, you want it to go on and on and never quit. I thoroughly enjoyed [Kantra’s] witty style of writing and her wonderful, fascinating characters. Anyone who enjoys a good paranormal should NOT miss this one!”

But enough from them--let's let Virginia talk for herself. And, ooh! Ooh! She's giving a copy of Sea Witch to one lucky poster and the anthology Shifter by her, Angela Knight, Lora Leigh and Alyssa Day to another. Then the two of you can join me in twitching as we await her next book.

Take it away, Virginia!

*************************************************

I’m so excited Susan invited me to guest blog today. This is more fun than sitting at the cool kids’ table in the school cafeteria. (At least, I imagine it is. I didn’t spend a lot of time at the cool kids’ table.) Anyway, the people here are nicer.

And we get to talk about books!

I remember summers by the books I read. All of Edward Eager at a cramped cottage on Cape Cod the summer I turned nine. Peter Beagle’s The Last Unicorn in a dusty London flat when I was fourteen. Mary Stewart’s This Rough Magic on the train in Germany. I read my first novel by Jayne Anne Krentz (it was Family Man) with my butt in the North Carolina sand and Susan’s Baby I’m Yours in Charleston a few years later.

The crash of the waves, the caress of the sun, the tang of salt, and the promise of a hot romance still mean “summer” to me. This year, I have a new paranormal romance series to share with you, stories filled with the mystery and magic, power and passion of the ocean: The Children of the Sea. Set off the coast of Maine, these books were inspired by the Celtic legends of the selkie, immortal creatures of the sea living apart from humankind but able to shape-shift into seductive human form.

For centuries, the children of the sea have co-existed in uneasy peace with their fellow elementals, the children of fire. Now that balance of power is tested as three siblings born of a human father and a selkie mother become embroiled in an ancient rivalry.

Caleb, the soldier, who returns from the desert to fall in love with a woman from the sea
(Sea Witch, Berkley, July 2008)

Dylan, the loner, who must choose between the freedom of his mother’s kind and the bonds of mortal love (Sea Fever, Berkley, August 2008)

Lucy, the dreamer, whose heart and fate are tangled with the sea king’s son
(Sea Lord, Berkley, February 2009).

In Sea Witch, Margred, a selkie, is driven to the island of World’s End by her desire for down-to-earth police chief Caleb Hunter. Strong, steady Caleb is bewitched by this sensual stranger. But when a murderer begins targeting women on World’s End, Caleb must face the terrible possibility that the killings are somehow connected to the mysterious Margred . . . and that the course of their love may threaten everything he believes in.

I hope you’ll check out the excerpts on my website, virginiakantra.com, and the “Countdown to Sea Witch” at my blog.

In the meantime, share: What are some of your all-time favorite summer reads? Do you remember where you were when you read them?

Happy Summer! And happy reading.

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posted online at Running With Quills June 5, 2008

Books, books, books, books, books

Lets talk books. I have no blogging chops for anything else today, but then we're all here because we're readers, right? So let me start the discussion by talking about some of the books I've read and enjoyed lately. Maybe I can turn you on to some new authors or titles. Perhaps you can do the same for me.

Because most of the stuff I've read recently has been recommended to me by other readers. I've blown through several books by my favorite authors, of course. But, man I love discovering new to me authors. And joy, joy, joy: my brainstorming partner, Caroline Cross, has turned me on to two separate series written by writers I'd never read before. She brought me Books One and Two in one of the series and Book One in the other, and I became a believer in both.

I first took note of J.R. Ward some time ago while I was checking the Bookscan sales list. This author I'd never heard of was simply shooting up the charts. I saw that she wrote a vampire series, however, and thought, "Like we need more of those." Then Caro brought me the first two and, folks, they knocked my socks off. Ward's built an interesting world of caste systems and warriors and vampires who get their sustanance from other vampires rather than humans. I'm only three books in, but what I've read so far is simply fascinating. It has romance and sex and danger and that wonderful "something" that keeps us turning those pages as fast as we can.

The other series she got me started on was Stephanie Myers teen angst/vampire/werewolf saga. Book One, Twilight, was the author's first book, period, and it was darn near perfect. (Except that we in the Pacific NW do not call our highways/ freeways "The" whatever number. We simply say I-5 or 101. But that's a nitpick) The main vamps in this book are a cobbled together family trying to exist without drinking human blood. They can also go out in the daylight but have taken up residence in Forks, Washington because it has the most rainfall of anyplace in America. Which is helpful as they become very conspicuous in sunlight. (I won't give away why)

Then my sweet baby boy brought me the uniquest book--one he picked up in a section of Barnes and Noble that I probably never even would have checked out. This one's called Sharp Teeth by Toby Barlow. It's a book written in free verse about weredogs in L.A.

I know! It seems to be all paranormal all the time with me these days. What can I say; sometimes it just turns out that way. I knew I had to write an actual review for this one for WritersAreReaders.com before I even finished the thing, because I was simply stunned by the sheer level of enjoyment it gave me. Sharp Teeth is funny and hard-edged and wicked-sharp. It's sometimes grim yet often lyrical. And it just plain kept me rivited. To get a more indepth idea of its plot go here.

I'm reading yet another fabulous book, but I'm going to save this one for next Friday's post as I've invited its author to be our feature blogger. Meanwhile, what have you read lately that's blown you away? If there is one thing I am always up, it's hearing about wonderful, entertaining books.

 

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posted online at Running With Quills May 15, 2008

Susan. A study in poetry in motion

You ever have one of those days? Last Friday, I was walking with my friend Joey, minding my own business, laughing about something she said and enjoying what's been a very rare occurrence in Seattle lately--a sunny morning.

Then I caught my toe on a piece of raised sidewalk and my sistahs, my upper body lurched so far ahead of my lower there wasn't a hope in you-know-where of catching my balance. One minute I'm on my feet. The next I'm sprawled out on the sidewalk, whimpering Hurts, hurts. Hurtshurtshurts.

Not that my injuries were all that serious--I smacked one knee hard enough to eventually turn a dense purple, but not break anything, and mildly abraded the other. I had a minor scrape on my right palm and a bigger, nastier, but still inconsequential one on my left forearm. But there's a wicked shock factor to a spill, so I was shaken. And my left hand, which I'd thrown out unthinkingly to catch myself, was kind of a mess. My landing took a nickle-sized flap several layers deep out of the skin over my wrist bone. It bled like a sonofagun, but I'd dragged my butt out of bed early to meet Joey, we were barely a mile into our walk and I didn't have to be to the salon to get my hair cut until 11. So I slapped a leaf on it and we continued on. I had a vague plan in the back of my mind of getting a band-aid when we reached civilization (Tullys ).

The bums didn't have any.

Okay, no problem. They had plenty of napkins.

When we set off again, we climbed a steep hill until we spotted a long street that angled back down toward the beach where we'd left our cars. Since we were now several miles from where we'd parked and I did have that 11 o'clock appointment, we checked to be sure it wasn't a dead end (lots of those in Seattle) then headed down the road. It was kind of cool. I'd never been on this street before and it hosted some really pretty homes and a killer view.

But maybe a half mile down, it petered out. And a woman whose yard we considered cutting across said the street in front of her house didn't go through, either.

Okay, no problem. If we walked reasonably fast--and trust me, Joey can move!--I could still make my appointment. I had to take my fleece jacket off a couple times because hiking uphill in the sun is HOT work, but we visited as we cut through a neighborhood that was fun in its unfamiliarity. And, hey, it looked like I was going to get to the salon on time. (which, considering how badly I needed a cut, was a Very Good Thing)

But as we were steaming down the final hill and my car was in sight, I reached into my jacket pocket and. . .

Problem. No keys. Arrgh! Joey said wouldn't you know she didn't have her cell with her today or we could've at least called the salon to let them know what happened. Hey, I said. I've got mine. In my purse. . .

Which is under the seat in the car. Sigh.

She drove us back to the area where I'd taken my spill but we didn't find the keys. And given how many times I'd taken off and put back on my hoodie, which has kinda shallow pockets, they could have dropped out anywhere. So she drove me to the salon to see if it was too late to still get in. It was, which was just as well as I couldn't pay them until I got into my car, which wouldn't have been a problem as I've gone there for years. But I would have had to hoof it the two or so miles home afterward and I was pretty much hoofed out.

So J drove me home and later Mimi took me down to retrieve my car with my spare set of keys. Joey could have done it when she dropped me off but we were both so frazzled by then it didn't occur to either of us until she sent me an email later in the day to say, Duh!

When I was making lunch later, I knocked a jar of Pepita seeds off the counter and they went everywhere. When I went to get the broom, I brushed a cat food dish with the side of my foot. Oh, goodie. Another (smaller) mess to clean up. Sigh. I finally decided there was only one thing to do.

I grabbed one of my cats and took a nap on the couch .

So have you ever had one of those days?

 

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posted online at Running With Quills May 1, 2008

Mother's Day Blowout!

Have we got a contest for you!! Well, actually, it's not so much a contest as it is a drawing. But the Quill Sisters are in the mood to talk Mums — and I'm not talking flowers here. So from now until Mother's Day everyone who posts in response to our posts will be entered for a chance to win. And wouldja...lookit...

All
That
Loot!!!

Yes, my pretties, everything you see here can be yours. Why, you'll think it's Christmas, Momma's Day and your birthday all rolled into one when these babies start rolling in. (The mailman is gonna LUV you. Or maybe hate you--there's a lot of stuff, it could go either way) We've got books, books, a bag to carry them in, more books, a tee to wear while reading them, books and...did I mention books? All personally inscribed to you, natch.

So come on out of lurkdom and join the fun. You might be very glad you did.

Susan's sweet baby boy and strawberry waffles

Oddly enough, this isn't a story of my mother but about me. (And yes, I can hear those of you who know me well saying, yeah, yeah, isn't it always?) But becoming a mom was a very big deal for me. It took me several years to get pregnant. We went through a battery of tests, ingested fertility drugs, took temperatures on a Basal thermometer and had sex on a schedule. (sucks the joy right out of the act, lemme tell you) When my OB-GYN ran out of procedures and ideas, he sent me to the University of Washington's Fertility clinic.

The doctor who did the original workup was on an Endocrinology Fellowship from Ireland. So when he found a lump in my throat, everything fertility related came to a screeching halt. Turned out I had a cancerous growth on my thyroid. That was in December and I went home pissed off and discouraged. Which pretty much shows how young I was (25) because I wasn't as concerned with the fact that I probably had cancer as I was that they hadn't finished the tests. I decided then and there that I didn't need a baby, that we had each other, Steve was back in college, we had a mortgage and a dog and I was looking at weeks, if not months of tests, surgery and recovery — and that was more than enough.

You can see this one coming, right? Because having decided this, the next month I began waking up sicker 'n a dog and, yep, I was pregnant. So the Mother's day before our sweet baby boy was even born, the soulmate made me strawberry waffles for breakfast — a tradition that endures to this day.

(I love this pic. It was taken the day we brought our baby home from the hospital, then discovered 27 years later when we took the mantle off the fireplace. It's usually pinned to my bulletin board in my office)

We aren't talking Eggos — he makes his own waffles, combines fresh and frozen strawberries and whips up the highest fat cream in the universe. And, oh, mama, it is to die for. (Our son is a chef--I think he got his abilities more from his dad than from me) In the thirty-three years since that first Mother's Day breakfast, we've only missed our time-honored strawberry waffles once — and that was because the soulmate was on a three month start up on Ascension Island in the middle of the Atlantic and my son had to work.

So how about you? Have any Mother's Day traditions?

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posted online at Running With Quills April 20, 2008

What year was it?

The year I graduated from high school was a tumultuous year in history.

I was in the senior activity center kind of flirting with this black athlete from another school when we heard Robert Kennedy was assassinated. Martin Luther King had been assassinated earlier in the year and I thought the world was getting to be a very crazy place.

Laugh In and The Smothers Brothers Show cracked me up. The Graduate was different than any movie I'd ever seen and its Simon and Garfunkle songtrack just blew me away. Bonnie and Clyde showed every minute twitch and jerk of the bodies being riddled with bullets with all its accompanying blood splatter. (To this day, I'd rather see the hokey slap of a hand to the wound when a character gets shot and the victim staggering around unconvincingly than watch the impact of the bullets hitting bodies)

A boy named Steve Cameron read The Catcher In The Rye with the book barely open because he loved the cover and didn't want to crack the spine. We argued that one to a standstill as I did NOT understand how he could sacrifice the reading experience to preserve a stupid cover.

The Beatles dominated the charts but I played Otis Redding's Dock of the Bay until I wore out the record. Seattle's Jimi Hendrix was jailed in Stockholm for trashing his hotel room. (Lots of rockstars seems prone to that. Never got it)

Pantyhose had been invented but they were sort of one size fits all, so we still wore garters.

The Viet Cong launched the Tet Offensive and American soldiers massacred civilians at Mai Lai. Students protested the war in the streets, staged sit ins and took over college administration buildings. I was conflicted because I truly didn't believe in the war. But I was a middle class American girl who did believe in the soldiers. I knew people, had lost people to that war, and the soul mate who was my boyfriend at the time had been drafted into the Army (and would be shipped to Nam the following year).

Feminists protested the Miss America contest, protestors died in the Democratic Convention riot in Chicago, Baltimore burned.

And I struggled to grow up.

Man, this is way too easy, but what year was it? And what happened the year you graduated high school or college or perhaps another eventful time in your life?

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posted online at Running With Quills April 3, 2008

Here comes da sun!

Last Friday was my wedding anniversary. As the soulmate and I boarded a train for Portland for a mini getaway, it was snowing.

Snowing, for heaven's sake! So close to April 1st it makes no nevermind.

This has been the craziest year for weather. I've seen atypical temps and weather patterns all over the nation.

But Spring has come to Seattle!!
Finally.
At last.
'Bout time.

I love the seasons in this town. Love them all. I have a genuinely tough time deciding which I like best.

Still, it's hard to beat Spring with all its flowers.

Not to mention sunshine. Man, am I grateful to see that again! I thought for sure it had forsaken our part of the world for ever and ever, amen. But it's back (if only for a short while) and everything looks so clean and bright, instead of gray and dismal. The greens are such a clear, tender hue, and the air is filled with fresh scents. My Daphne Odora (or maybe its Adora) is budding and Lordy does it smell divine. Our ancient lilac tree will be in bloom in about a month. Already I look forward to stepping outside the lower back door and simply breathing deeply.

How about your part of the world ? Has winter finally (at last. 'bout time) lost its grip? And what's your favorite season?

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posted online at Running With Quills March 20, 2008

A new cover as stand-in for my brain

My cat Mojo is a big fan of bathtubs and sinks. When he's in my tub upstairs, he often spins in circles trying to catch a glimpse of his own shadow, which I imagine he sees out of the corners of his eyes.

That's what I've been doing this week--spinning in circles, chasing my own shadow. You ever have times like that? Mine was mostly due to work. The soulmate's out of town on a job, I've had my nose seriously to the grindstone and everything else has fallen by the wayside. I sat down early Monday morning and swear I didn't look up again until Wednesday afternoon when I realized I'd forgotten to check in here and so had missed out on Christina's blog. That bummed me out, let me tell you. But then I got sucked back into the story and just came up for air a minute ago.

Only to realize it's my turn to blog. (You don't want to know the word that came out of my mouth.)

Okay, the above timetables may be a wee bit exaggerated, but it definitely felt like days had lapsed while I wasn't paying attention. So because my brain is toast, I'm posting my new cover for Cutting Loose (Coming to a bookstore near you July 29th). This is Book One of my new Sisterhood Diaries Trilogy, which features three BFFs who inherit a notoriously ugly Seattle mansion. Tell me what you think.

And I hate to look like the absentminded professor all alone. So do a weary writer a favor, would you? Share some of your own less than brilliant moments.

I'll love ya forever for it.

~Susan

 

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posted online at Running With Quills March 11, 2008

We interrupt this regularly scheduled reading. . .

...To let you know that Susan is now on MySpace. Stop by and add yourself as her friend at myspace.com/susan_andersen

Hope to see you there! ~Susan

 

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posted online at Running With Quills March 7, 2008

Elliot thinks I'm fancy

My great-nephew Elliot loves Olivia the pig books. The one he's into right now is all about opposites. And apparently my fondness for makeup is evident even to a two year old, because everytime he comes to this page, he points at fancy Olivia and says, "Susie!"

Okay, I admit it. I'm one of those women who prefers not to leave the house without lipstick. Mascara's right up there on my list, too, along with Carmex to tame my eyebrows. But hey, I don't wear pearls like Olivia. Or big red bows around my ears. (Girl, that's just tacky. Love the shoes, though) And I haven't gone topless since I was three.

Still, I'm a fool for cosmetics. I love the look, the feel, the smell... the promise. Now, I consider myself an intelligent, reasonably grounded woman. I know my limitations in the beauty department. I have zero interest in Botox and no one's putting this girl under general anesthesia to take a scalpel to my face. But for a few bucks and no blood spilled you can do amazing things with a little mineral foundation and a stick of cream blush. If makeup doesn't precisely hide a multitude of sins it at least mutes them a little.

The soulmate and BBF Mimi like to make fun of my dresser in the bathroom. And I admit, the thing's loaded with way more crap than one woman needs since I'm not always great about thinning out the rejects. But I'm an experimenter by nature and I've discovered some great stuff along the way. Jane Iredale cosmetics, especially their Sugar and Butter lip treatment. Cargo blu_ray compact of four lip glosses (seeing a trend here?) With this little beauty you can customize your lip color. I usually have oily skin but this winter it got really dry and I discovered La Roche-Posay Nutritic, which was great. It healed the dryness without leaving a greasy sheen.

So, Elliot (at the Whaletail) will probably continue seeing me in lipstick and mascara on our Friday morning walks. But how about the rest of you? If makeup bores you silly, what does shake your tambourine? What do you have a lust-on for that friends and lovers just don't get?

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posted online at Running With Quills February 21, 2008

Fresh meat! Er, that is, a guest in our abode.

Hey, y'all. Today we have a guest blogger. I'm not as yet personally familiar with Kathryn Caskie's books, but I love Regency historicals, so I'm penciling her in at the top of my Gotta Check It Out list. Kathryn is the USA Today Bestselling author of seven Regency-set historical romances. Her upcoming release for Avon Books, How to Propose to a Prince, will be in stores next Tuesday (February 26th). She lives in Virginia in a 200 year old house with her family, including two neurotic Border Collies, a Chihuahua with a Napoleon complex and two cats inclined to ignore them all.

Please join me in welcoming her. Take it away, Kathy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you for inviting me to come blog on Running with Quills. You are all queens of romance in my book and I feel like a fan girl to be in your cyber presence.

Is it just an author thing, or when anyone meets a couple for the first time, does he or she feel compelled to ask "So, how did you two meet?"

I love to hear stories of how someone came to be with the love of his or her life. You'd be surprised, too, at the number of time some element of someone's first meeting made its way into my books. Sure, I make it a little more dramatic and fun, but the essence of someone's story is usually at its core.

That is, until I wrote the first chapter of my February 26th release for Avon Books, How to Propose to a Prince. Made it all up. I was convinced that there was no way on God's green earth this would happen in real life. The chapter is posted on my site KathrynCaskie.com so you can read it for yourself.

In my story, Elizabeth Royle, has had prophetic dreams her entire life--but only about half come true. But when the man she knows she will marry steps straight out of her dreams and into her life, she knows for certain they are destined to marry. Never mind that he is Prince Leopold, and is in London to woo Prince Charlotte. She knows Fate is on her side.

But, you know, the chapter hadn't been posted for two days before I received an email from a woman who read the excerpt and was startled by the similarities. She said that for years before she met her now husband, she had had dreams about meeting him. She knew what the man she would marry looked like, she even saw the house where they would one day live. And here is the kicker--it turned out, when they finally did meet, that he had been dreaming of her too. They have been married for decades now.

Kind of makes you think, doesn't it?

Tell us the story of how you and your significant other met. Then, tell us what you think. Is there a special someone out there meant for of each us?

Prizes are to be had for the best stories or observations (signed books for readers, or a critique of the first ten pages of the winners manuscript for aspiring authors--add AA to start of your post if you are interested in the critique, please.)

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posted online at Running With Quills February 7, 2008

If the ski boot fits...

Sorry I haven't been around much lately. Last week was our annual ski trip and I ran around beforehand getting ready and have been chasing my tail ever since trying to catch up. I look forward to this trip every year--its four days of good friends (there are nine of us) good food (waaay too much junk food-- all that yummy stuff I ordinarily at least try to stay away from) and, of course, skiing.

We go to the Mazama Ranch House in the Methow Valley in northeastern Washington State, and at the best of times it's a six hour drive once you factor in stopping to eat, taking bathroom breaks and getting coffee. (And trust me, those last two are big factors. The standing joke is that the soulmate knows where every Starbucks is--and I know the location of every bathroom in the state). This year our area has been hit with record breaking snowfall and a pass that we usually take was closed due to a series of avalanches. So we took an alternate route and I won't bore you with what an ordeal that turned out to be. I will say, however, it took us ten hours to reach Mazama.

But like childbirth, I forgot the pain as soon as I got there. Because--I know, big surprise to those of you who know me--I'm a cross-country skiing fool.

(Here's my friend Martha and me in front of the ranch house. I'm betting she's lovin' this pic, because her shadow almost makes her look tall :)

This sport is my drug of choice. It's quiet and oh-so beautiful out on the trails. You use your own body rather than gravity to move, and that keeps you warm. But X-country also throws in some downhill action for the always fun cheap thrill.This year we mixed things up a little, too, which was fun. The ranch house is a ski-in/ski-out establishment. I love that, because you don't have to drive anywhere; you can simply throw on your skis and take off. But it also limits you to the 40 k of trails around you when there's 220 in the system. So instead of going shopping with the women after driving the guys up to Sun Mountain to do the ten mile series of trails down to Winthrop, I decided to ski with the men instead. The last mile and a half kicked my butt, but the rest was great, even my spectacular wipe-out on a U turn at the bottom of a longish hill, which resulted with me on my back with a gallon of snow up my shirt. Another day we took a long, partly riverside trail that I've only been on once. And we started from the opposite end. It was fun putting a different spin on the same old pattern and stepping out of my rut.

Give me a twenty degree sunny day with freshly groomed trails and a couple of friends to share it with and I'm a happy girl.

That's Martha's husband Gary. I loved the birch trees on this trail.

What makes you smile and feel at one with the world? Is it a person, a hobby or sport? Tell me. I love hearing about the things that give you all peace and happiness.

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posted online at Running With Quills January 30, 2008

Stella is... A Marked Man!

Susan: Okay, so she's a woman and her book title is A Marked Man. Sue me, I took literary license. But y'all didn't tune in to read me. You want to hear about this book! So without further ado, Heeeeeere's Stella.! Hey, girl. How was New Orleans last week?

Stella: Amazing–it’s always amazing. That city reminds me of a really good stew filled with the best and most unexpected ingredients.

Susan: What a luscious description. It’s obvious you love setting your stories there.

Stella: New Orleans has had more influence on me than any other city I’ve explored–including some I lived in for a long time. The moment I set foot in the French Quarter I feel I’ve arrived in the middle of a carnival, or in an old, French fairground. Not that I’m unaware of the seamy side of the city and the problems, but every city has those elements. It’s just that in New Orleans everything is more colorful, louder maybe, like looking through a kaleidoscope with sound. Nothing stays still for long yet I can sit back, watch, and soak up the whole thing. When I come away I see memories in my mind and they’re all really neon. New Orleans is drama, and drama is great story stuff.

Susan: Do you like the cover for A Marked Man? It sure looks marvelous on the stands.

Stella: I’m so pleased with this cover. There’s the seething atmosphere of the bayou country, but the human images are sensual. This is a steamy, sensual, suspenseful book. Yes, I think this is the right cover for the story.

Susan: But it’s what's between the covers that we’re really dying to hear about. So dish! Share a few sound bites about A Marked Man with us.

Stella: “Just the facts, Ma’am :)”

Susan: No, no, feel free to embellish.

Stella: Annie Duhon is a fighter who has made her own breaks. She has worked her way from high-school dropout and victim of abuse, to achieving her dream. She is the manager of Pappy’s, Toussaint’s most popular place to dance and eat.

Confidence has been hard won and it isn’t easy for her to accept the obvious interest of Max Savage, a successful plastic surgeon. Is this incredible man in her life too good to be true?

Behind the public Max is the secret Max who was twice accused of murdering women and twice acquitted for lack of evidence. Legally, he is an innocent man. And Annie might never have had reason to doubt–or fear–him if another woman wasn’t missing, feared dead, right here and now in the middle of Annie’s exciting new world.

Max is a marked man who has unwittingly attracted danger to anyone he’s cared about. Now he loves Annie, and knows with chilling certainty that he faces one last chance to unmask a killer before there’s nothing left to fight for.

Susan: This is such a fabulous book!!! I gobbled up every word and wanted more. I’ll be waiting for the next book in the Toussaint series.

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posted online at Running With Quills January 24, 2008

Susan's Addiction, As Seen on TV

I usually turn on the television when I’m eating. It doesn’t particularly matter what’s playing—it’s merely something to gaze at while I eat my breakfast, my snack, whatever. It’s a benign enough habit—until I run into an infomercial.

I’ve always considered myself a level-headed woman. But put me in front of a half hour program designed to sell me something I have absolutely no need of and I turn into a brainless idiot (a redundancy, I know—but fitting).

I’m the demographic for which infomercials are designed. I don’t know what it is about them, but I always think everything is essential, especially if makeup is involved. Whenever the soulmate catches me at it he says, in his best cop voice: “Step away from the phone and hand me that remote, nice and slow. Now, lady! Step. Away. From. The. Phone.” Then he switches the channel to golf.

It brings me down every time.

My rehabilitation is avoiding infomercials entirely. If I do come across one while channel surfing, I just keep on going. And if I can’t quite make my thumb hit those channel buttons, I force myself to analyze the product objectively. (And ooh, does that hurt, not being the analytical sort) You are not going to look like that 30 year old model with her perfect skin, I warn myself sternly. Your thighs will not look like Suzanne Sommers'. And if your high end blender gets bogged down making smoothies, what do you think the chances are that little bullet shaped thingie is going to whip up a perfect one without the usual glitches? So, I’m definitely getting better. I’ve identified my compulsion and am taking steps to avoid situations where I can indulge it.

But I’m telling ya. . . it’s one day at a time.

How about you? Any guilty pleasures that you know aren’t good for you, but you indulge anyhow? Come, on. Fess up. You can tell Mother Susan.

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posted online at Running With Quills January 10, 2008

Sure a rose is a rose. But what's the story with some of these names?

Do you ever wonder where people come up with their email addys? I do, every time I update my email list. I understand, of course, that a lot of people simply use their given name or a variation of it and leave it at that.

But others tell you something about themselves, email handles like justboycrazy, alwaysblushing, readingaddict, littleminx, blythspirit, imcheeky, gatorhater, dramamama or sixofnine.

Others give you a hint of the things people either enjoy or perhaps wish for, such as ottergal, shoecrazed (my kinda woman) nomosnow, sliverofmoon, shouldhavebeenacowboy, stargazer, stargal and starfishgal.

In regards to those last three, many of the contest entrants from both here and my webpage, which comprise much of my database, often run in themes. Since we’re romance writers around here, of course we get the entries from likeminded readers/writers such as: romancebooklover, romancechica, romancenewz, romancetreasures, romancewriter and romancereader with various numerals, initials and underscores attached (I’m not including entire addies for obvious reasons). Then there are the pixie people: pixieframe, pixiequeen, pixiedragon, pixiekitty and someone who’s just plain pixilated. On the snow front I’ve got: snostorm, snowangel, snowbear, snowbird, coupla snowflakes, a snowleopard, snowqueen, snowyowl, snowwhiteinfiniti and snowzapped.

Did I mention the ladies? Just a few out of a bunch on my list include ladybug, ladycat, ladychatalot, ladyclearskies, ladyluck, ladymacaw, ladyofmyst, ladyofthelake, ladyontherocks, ladyraidersmom and lady-fill in the name.

Some, like femchauvinist, luckybooboo, and Ladytramp, seem like oxymorons, and others I just like for my own reasons. Boobear, for instance, is one of my nicknames for my cat Boo, motherdriveninsane, because I’ve been there, bookbeyotch cuz it’s got attitude and figgy-fig and tiztazz, simply because they’re catchy and make me smile.

But the ones I really wonder about are those that are different for reasons that aren’t readily obvious to me, such as prettyinpoison, StupidNurse (don’t want that one assigned to my case if I’m ever in his/her hospital) sweetmassacre, aroseoffeathers and, oh so many more.

Have you seen an email addy that tickled your fancy or caught your attention? And, hey, since I took these largely from people who stop by this site, if you're lurking and see your e-addy on my list here, drop in and tell me what inspired your choice.

Because inquirying minds wanna know.

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posted online at Running With Quills December 13, 2007

The 3Fs--requisites for the Andersen's holiday

When I was little, I'd wake up Christmas mornings around 4 a.m, so excited I could barely breathe. I'd head straight for my parents' room, where I'd rouse them to ask, "Is it time?"

"Not yet," they'd mumble around big yawns, so I'd go back to my room and thumb through a book for awhile before heading back down the hall to give it another try.

They'd usually cave around 6 since they were only getting to sleep in five minute snatches anyhow and it was clear I wasn't going to give up. But even then I couldn't go into the living room where the tree and the presents were, because my brothers and I weren't allowed in there until Dad had built the fire. It was tradition.

One that I didn't pass on to my own kid, remembering the pure torture of that final five minutes after everyone was finally up. We did, however, build traditions of our own.

One of our favorites is the Annual Christmas Tree Slaughter. This isn't a From-the-beginning one; that's the cool thing about traditions--it's okay to be fluid. Some are around forever, some are discovered later, and all are those that simply work for you. This one came about because of a lot-bought Christmas tree that dried out so fast I truly feared it was going to spontaneously combust in its stand. From that point on, I wanted to know when our tree had been cut--and the only way to do that is to chop down your own.

So in early December we drive out to this wonderful tree farm in Orting, Washington, where we meet family and friends and whichever of their kids/grandkids are available. We all scatter to select our trees (I'm a diehard Frasier Fir girl, myself--love the shape and that blue underside) cut them down and meet up again outside the netting shed to head to a cafe for lunch. It's a day I look forward to with great anticipation.

Another is my mother's annual Ladies Party, where there are usually four generations of women sitting around eating, drinking and doing what women do best: connecting.

We have Christmas Eve for the soulmate's side of the family at our house, and his sister always makes lefsa, a Norweigian potato/whipping cream pancake-like dessert. Christmas morning it's just me and my guys. But after we open gifts the three of us go down to Doug and Mimi's and have brunch with them and their two boys (men, now). Then it's off to my mother's to celebrate with my side of the family.

Connie Brockway did a great blog once on a tablecloth that they've had guests autograph over the past twenty or so years. We don't have a tradition like that. But we have our own that revolve around the 3Fs-- family, friends and food. And as long as we have those, I'm a blessed woman.

Tell me about your traditions.

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posted online at Running With Quills November 29, 2007

Books, boobs and bones

A while ago I went to an imagining clinic to have a bone density test and my annual mammogram. I had my nose in a Susan Mallery book when the technician whose job it was to smash my breasts between two cold plates came to get me. She asked what I was reading and as I showed her the cover I half braced for that slight curl of the upper lip that is too often present when romance is mentioned.

Oh, me of little faith. It turns out she’d crossed over to the Light Side a long time ago. We talked books and although she's more a fan of historical than contemporary romance she insisted that I write down my name and backlist. She also didn't seem to feel it was necessary to completely flatten my boobs in order to get a good image. A coincidence between that relatively pain free procedure and romance, you ask?

I think not.

Next I went down the hall for my bone density test. The tech there was a Samoan guy somewhere between forty and forty-five. Married, the father of five. He was more into self-help books than fiction. Yet when he found out I was a writer he, too, insisted that I give him a list of my titles and said he was stopping by the bookstore on his way home. Oh, boy. If he actually tries one, I might have myself a convert. That’s even better than selling to a True Believer. Okay, maybe not,. But it feels like a coup all the same.

So this post is a two-fer. One part is to remind everyone (well, except for you, Louis, and you can remind your wife) to do your monthly breast exam and to think about getting a mammogram. Granted, the latter's not a lot of fun, but as someone with a shipload of breast cancer in her family I'm here to tell you: it's better to endure a few seconds of discomfort than to oh, say... die.

And of course this is about books. Reading makes the world go 'round as far as I'm concerned and in this case it took two appointments I wasn't exactly panting with anticipation to keep and turned them into opportunities for stimulating conversation.

So, I’m wondering, have the rest of you ever found yourselves in unexpected places, talking books with strangers?

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posted online at Running With Quills November 14, 2007

Sheila's got a take on Christmas that husbands don't wantcha to know

Hey, you all--I have a guest blogger this week. Please welcome Sheila Roberts--who many of you may know as Dr. Shiela from her fun articles in Romance Writers of America's RWR industry magazine. Sheila and I met oh, a hundred years or so ago at our local chapter and has she got a holiday book for you!

ON STRIKE FOR CHRISTMAS
Christmas is fast approaching and many of the women in the town of Holly are bracing for stress, overwork, and very little understanding or appreciation from the men in their lives. But then Joy Robertson, Laura Fredericks, and their knitting buddies decide to “go on strike” and give the men an opportunity to see firsthand what it takes to make the holidays merry and bright. Soon other women are joining in and husbands all over town are getting a crash course in decorating, shopping, and what to wear to see Santa, and are searching frantically for an interpreter to translate the mysteries of holiday recipes. The men may just come to appreciate the holidays after walking a mall in their wives’ high heels. But maybe the women will learn something, too.

And take it away, Sheila!!

AN OUNCE OF PROTECTION . . .
Is worth a pound of cure, so they say. That's why I thought I should go into this holiday season with A PLAN. And I'm happy to say you heard it here first. Thanks so much, Quills, for having me.

By the way, I want a hot promo pic like you ladies all have. Of course, it helps to be hot to begin with. I'm seriously considering photo-shopping my head onto Susan's body. No one would ever know until they met me in person. Then they would wonder when I put on all that weight.

Which brings me to my holiday eating plan. I thought I should eat right this year. Lots of greens. I could serve broccoli, snow peas, and green peppers to my party guests. Except that stuff is no good without dip, and I suppose an ounce of veggies to a pound of dip rather defeats the purpose of serving those veggies in the first place. And honestly, when I think of eating something green at the holidays the first thing that comes to mind is not broccoli. It's those cute little green tree-shaped spritz cookies. Or sugar cookies with green frosting. And then there's the green frosting on my holiday brownies - chocolate and mint, how can a girl resist that combination? Obviously, this is not the plan for me. I enjoy baking too much.

I could e-mail Santa and beg him to please Fe Ex me an Acme Holiday Mouth Protector ASAP. Oh, you haven't heard of this? It's basically a giant stapler. Apply to the corners and center of your lips and your eating problem is solved. No fattening holiday goody will be able to enter your mouth and make its way on down to your hips. This handy gadget has a double advantage for people like me who make a habit of putting their feet in their mouth. It's hard to do that when you can't open your beak. But I hate pain. I barely survived getting my ears pierced.

I could do some mall walking with my girlfriends. That way we could scope out the sales while burning calories and still be able to enjoy those holiday goodies. But when you're mall walking you don't want to walk too fast. You might spill your eggnog latte. You might not see that great bargain. And who wants to be all sweaty when she finds the perfect Christmas red dress? You can't try on clothes when you're sweaty. Obviously, that plan won't work.

So, realistically, here's the plan. You might like to try it, too. I'm going to have a merry Christmas and eat according to the charge card principle: enjoy it now, pay later. And yes, I will pay, but while I'm jogging my way through January I'll have my memories of holiday eating bliss to keep me warm. Now, that's a plan.
For those of you opting for Sheila's merry Christmas to my stomach plan, here's a fun recipe from my new book that you and your girlfriends are bound to enjoy.

DAVE'S PEPPERMINT FIZZ
2 generous scoops peppermint candy ice cream
1 shot peppermint schnapps
1/2 cup club soda
Combine all ingredients in blender and blend just until smooth. Serve in a champagne flute or margarita glass and garnish with a peppermint stick. Pour in just a dab more club soda to add decorative fizz. Makes one drink.

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