Teresa D'Amario

Archive for the ‘Just because’ Category

Ok, so you’ve probably heard the phrase, One man’s trash is another man’s treasure. I’m here to tell you that also works in reverse.

When I was a kid living in Germany, they had what they called “junk day”, where you could sit out anything in your house that you didn’t want anymore, usually furniture or electronics, and then neighbors and others would wander the streets and chose what they wanted from that “junk”. My mom acquired a sewing machine, a daybed, and many other nice little gadgets that their original families thought weren’t exciting or important any longer. They were “junk”. The daybed stayed in our home for a few years until we moved back to the states. I’m not sure what happened to the sewing machine, but alot of that stuff still floated around the house for many years.

I often wish we had Junk Days here, so I could put some of the junk in my garage out without having to throw it away – because it’s good, I just don’t have time to sit out and run a garage sale. And even if I did, what would it be worth?

Often I find it offensive when people say romance is “Trashy”. Really? I don’t think so. But you know what,I do sometimes think other books are “trash” for me. For instance, I completely despise tragedies. Why? Because to me, they don’t celebrate life. They don’t celebrate love. Their only moral tends to be “Love hurts, watch them die!”, So you know what that means, right? It means I dislike 90% of all “Classics”. Romeo and Juliet? Now that just didn’t do it for me. I remember when I read it, I had no idea it was a tragedy (Ok, I was a kid and clueless). I hated it. Couldn’t stand the way they tried everything to be together and then died. Sure, it was an original for it’s time, and it had some great writing, but it’s not something I would read without it being required to graduate a course.

But then, I do enjoy thrillers and romances, yet people consider romances to be “trash”. Really? The writing is as good or better than alot of other books out there. So does happily ever after equal trash? There’s people who say it’s because it has sex in it. But wait, some of the best books out there that are NOT romance, have sex in them. So what makes romance “Trash” when the others with the same “elements” are not? Since when is celebrating life and love considered trash? It’s not. Like I said, one woman’s treasure is another woman’s trash. Or is that one woman’s trash is another woman’s treasure? Yep. I think that’s more it. Because what others say is trash is nothing more than a treasure celebrating love and life! If that’s trash, give me more. Let me dirty up my home with this ugly celebration of life. :) Wait……. Celebration of life and love. Now there’s a gem I’ll save if not in paper, in my heart, forever.

So recently Roni Loren wrote a blog about authors and their interactions with readers, and it reminded me of something that is quickly becoming my pet peeve.  It’s not so much about authors/readers, but authors/authors.

All authors have to market themselves, or nobody finds their books.  That’s the one big disadvantage of the new models used for being an author.  You write the book, You query the book, you then have someone edit the book, and then they print/publish it, and you market.  And market and market.  Otherwise nobody finds it.  It’s the joys of the internet.  It’s the pain of being an author.  No job is without it’s drawbacks, and so I guess this is the big one for the authors.  With the inception of social media, we all thought “Great, marketing is going to be easy!”  Well, it is.  And it isn’t.  There’s no way to tell if a marketing push is more effective than the last, because of the nature of social media.  But we all have our facebook, twitter, google plus and other sites.  Some of us still have the old Myspace, which was great for marketing, and less on the social aspect. 

When I started marketing, myspace was the big thing.  I spent hours and hours making the perfect profile.  I rushed to other author’s sites, and friended them, leaving comments on their profile, wishing them the best with their new releases.  These comments had a two-fold purpose.  They advertised that people knew who they were, thus their visitors enjoyed the comfort of knowing they were a good author, and at the same time, let their visitors know I existed as well. The more flashy and attractive the posting, the more visitors the post drew.  I loved it! 

Then facebook arrived on the scene.  I went kicking and screaming. I hated the interface. I couldn’t personalize it, but I could see what I wanted with ease, so it had it’s benefits.  Within a few months I had 500 friends.  It was great.  I’d spent alot of time perusing facebook, finding other authors who wrote paranormal, both NY and ebook authors, and friended them.  I even friended a few of their friends.  I was happy!

Then they came out with this limit of 5000 friends.  I didn’t expect I’d get there too fast, but figured it would be best to think ahead, so I made a fan page.  I then notified all my friends about the fan page.  That’s when I noticed something.  My friends list was ever growing, while my fan page went stagnant.  Such a  shame – because for me, the fan page is the perfect place for author/reader interaction.  But then I’m not quite sure how to get it started. 

My friends list continued to grow, quickly getting out of control.  I now have over 4000 friends and only about 1000 fans.  Now that wouldn’t bother me, except when I look at that extra 3000 people on the friends list, most of them are authors.  Ok, so I’m helping other authors, that’s kewl.  But wait… those other authors write autobiographies.  They write poetry.  They write non-fiction.    They are authors who I have nothing in common with.  Uhm, I don’t know about what you think, but do you really think those type of readers are rushing to be my friend on facebook?  Hmm, probably not.  Sure, maybe 1 in 500 of my friends might pick up a book on poetry. Maybe one in 500 might pick up an autobiography that has nothing to do with their own lives.   Who knows.  But I really have nothing to offer this group of friends who are on my lists.

People who work as architects don’t around making friends with heavy equipment operators to further their career.  I’m not liking my book to a heavy equipment operator, but at the same time you see my point. 

So my pet peeve is all about people who friend me on facebook when they think the only reason is cuz I can do something for them.  It’s not because they write the same genre.  It’s not because they read my work.  It’s not because they are true family and friends.  It’s because they think that having more friends linked to their site makes them look more important.

I’m here to tell you, that’s not the case.  It does nothing for you, and only gives you LESS room for the real friends, family and fans.

So my new year’s resolution is to slowly review all of my facebook friends, and if I unfriend you, don’t take it personally.  It’s not because I think people won’t like your work.  It’s because, well, I can’t do anything for your career.  If that’s your only reason for following me/friending me, and you’re not one of the genre’s that runs alongside mine, you’ll have to find someone else.  I love ya, I think you’re great.  But you need to find someone who can truly help you.   I’m going to have to save my 5000 slots for my true friends/relatives/fans. 

For all you romance authors, paranormal and horror authors, sci fi authors, and even non fiction paranormal and sci fi authors, there’s always a place for you at my site.  Because of course I LOVE You guys!  (not that I don’t love the poets and non fiction folks, just that it’s a different kind of love).  And of course, there’s ALWAYS room for my fans and friends to be,,, well,,,, friends.  :sideways:   :silly:

I”m doing this for my friends, family and readers.  By doing this there’s more room for them over on my facebook page to harrass me about whatever game I’m playing at the time.  But if what you want is to find out what’s up in the writing world, , the BEST place to see that is on my fan page, so head on over and “like” me there:  Fan Page.  It’s the place I TRY to make most of my announcements on first about what’s going on (Sometimes my blog gets things first, but the next spot is my fan page.)

And as for the Prince over in Eastern Europe, I guess I’ll keep you too, cuz it’s just too kewl to have a Prince for a friend.

It’s not Christmas without me sharing favorite Christmas videos or songs.  Here is my favorite Christmas Carol, with a beautiful rendition by Vanessa Williams, and with it, a beautiful light display!  I hope you all enjoy it! No matter what holiday you celebrate at this time of the year, may it bring you peace of heart. But as for me and mine, we celebrate Christmas, and therefore, we wish you all a Merry Christmas.

Ok, for those who haven’t followed my hit and miss pained tweets, I thought I’d share what’s been happening this year.  I’m really looking forward to 2012, because things have to get better.   I don’t typically put my life out there for everyone to see, but I don’t want to lose those who have been following and trying to figure out if I’ve decided I hate my readers or something.  I don’t!  I love my readers! Every last one of you!  You are awesome, and are who I write for. :D  You make my day when you send me an email, you make my week when you recommend my book to others!  I couldn’t be this happy without ya!

But, my health this year was pretty rough.  2011 started out like any other year – rushed, and full of promise.  The problem was, I was having alot of pain, and started experiencing alot of “pulled muscles” for no reason.  Breaking teeth in my sleep by grinding my teeth, and even my vision was kind of flakey.  So after my docs yelling at me for ignoring things (The pulled muscles that I hadn’t done anything to cause them to hurt), I finally was diagnosed with Fibromyalgia, and given medication.  It was awesome.  The pain disappeared – ok, not completely, but it did great.  The only bad thing was, so did I.  I went from hanging out on chats and twitter to sleeping.  And sleeping.  And just a little bit more sleeping.

Two months into the meds, I suffered severe Esophageal spasms.  For anyone who’s had those, you know how painful that can be.  Mine lasted 18 hours.  Thought I was dying.  Even my dog thought I was dying and he never notices when ppl get sick.  So I stayed in the ER and slept.  Oh wait, I didn’t sleep that day – it hurt too much.  But, at last the pain eased, and the young man next to me who had cracked his spine was up to his room (Yes, I felt horrendous sadness for that poor young man.)  I blame my meds for the issue – because that was way above and beyond what anyone should suffer the first time around with it.  Everyone says it lasts 2-3 hours.  HA!  Little do they know!

In June, just as I was about to sleep my life away, I found out my mother had cancer.  The terminal kind.  Later we discovered she’d known for a very long time, but was just now telling us.  We discussed options, all of which she promptly ignored.  So, I headed to National Conference, at which I once again, slept half of it away.  But it was kewl, because I’d lost weight, and when I was awake, I was in the zone.  I was walking faster (Jodi, my roommate for the last 2 years went from having to drag me places to having to rush to keep up with me).  I was happier.  But I was sleeping.  Alot!

In July I visited my ill mother, and came to terms with her condition (if that’s even possible), and slept.  Yes, I even slept there.  We drove home.  I slept.  Ahh yes, life was one big sleep fest.  It was great. It was sad.  Somehow July turned to August, then to September.  I’m not even sure what happened those months, probably because I slept them away.  My husband had gotten used to me only emerging in time for the “evil day job”, and then going back to bed when I was finished.  He’d done all the housework, all the shopping, and well, just everything, while I slept.

I had  a book release in September, but I think I slept thru that too, so thought I should make a point of actually letting you guys know about it.  So if you haven’t seen it yet – make sure you check out Blood Moon Betrayed, the story of Sean and how he recovers from his “Events” of SheWolf.  And watch closely, as many questions are answered in this book! If you like a man who’s had his heart taken out and stomped, that would be Sean!  I love the way he tries to fight his feelings, knowing he’s been hurt before, but seeing his True Mate battered and bruised had an affect on him even he couldn’t fight.  You can get your copy at allromanceebooks.com, FreyasBower.com and of course Amazon.com.

Back to my sleeping.  Oh wait, it’s now October and I visited my doctor and said, hey, we have to do something about this sleeping.  And oh, and my hair is falling out.   Yes, the meds were making my hair fall out.  So, we tapered me down, and then had to return to my Mother’s to care for her for three weeks.  I started a new med while there, and suffered severe hot flashes, but I slept less.  Hooray!  Of course I hurt more, but not as much as without the meds.

I got home in time for Thanksgiving, which we had a nice quiet day off, and then on Friday, my mother passed.  Back to Alabama I went.  I’m back home now, and slowly things are getting back to normal, and the sleeping isn’t as bad as it was on the previous med.  Though I made the mistake of trying to get in shape with the treadmill.  Apparently my Fibro isn’t liking that, so I’ve decided to wait till after the holidays – when I’m not so busy.

So for those who wondered where I was for the last year, I was sleeping.  I’m not whining (Ok, maybe a little) in this post, just wanted to let you know why I’ve been so quiet.  It was an ugly year.  Well, I think it was an ugly year. It’s hard to know since I slept through it all.  But don’t worry – Sleeping Beauty has awakened, and hopes to take the world by storm in 2012!  So don’t think I forgot all my wonderful readers, because I haven’t!  I love you all!

So here’s for 2012 being a much better year.  Or at least, being awake for it.  Cuz I’m so tired of being tired!!

Happy Holidays to you and yours!  I don’t know which holiday you celebrate, but as for me and mine, we celebrate Christmas, and so we wish you ALL a Merry Christmas.

Being an author has it’s perks, though I’m afraid money isn’t really one of them.  So, like any job, you have to have fun whenever you can.  You can play with people’s minds and watch their eyes fill with tears or widen in terror.  Watch them race away or stop all conversation.  Or, watch them all start whispering about the strange women in the corner talking about the whips and chains.  And that’s even before they read your book!  

Last year I was working Dark Succession and another manuscript that is, as of yet, not published. My critique partner and I met at a mexican place in town to go over pages and fix errors, etc on Dark Succession, plus pages of one of her manuscripts.  The pages I’d given her covered the murder of one of the characters.  Murder is fun when it’s in a book, and the character’s neck had been broken.  Coincidentally, in the other MS I was working on at home,  I was at the point where someone had also just died, and also had their neck snapped. (hmm, better make sure that doesn’t become a habit).  So yes, I was thinking alot about how to kill people.  

A young couple sat caty-corner to us, just ahead of me.  My CP couldn’t see their faces, though she knew they were there.   I had noticed the couple was listening closely, as though trying to figure our conversation.  For more than 20 minutes they spent more time trying to listen to what we were saying than eating their own meal, and let me tell you, at this place that’s just a crime.  I kept trying to talk quieter and quieter, and I could see them leaning more in our direction, trying really hard to listen.

So when we got the “snapped neck” part, I just couldn’t help myself.  I raised my voice so I knew they could hear me.  “Yes, I’ve been killing people left and right this week.” I mimed the act with my hands and said,  “Snap!  And now he’s dead.”

You could have heard a pin drop at the other table.  The looks on their faces were so precious.  Horror filled their expressions, forks dropped by the side of their plates and for long moments, they just stared at one another.  Eventually the wife took out her cell phone as though to call the police, though the husband touched her hand and shook his head.  Who knows what was going through their minds.

I started chuckling, and my critique partner asked me why, so I leaned over the table and whispered the couple’s reaction, and then she started laughing.  The couple hurridly finished their meal and left, terrified to even look back as they rushed toward the cashier then out the door, never to be seen again.  I sometimes wonder if they even remembered to leave a tip.

The instant the front door closed, my CP and I burst out laughing so hard I had tears running down my cheeks.   I couldn’t stop – every time I did, I kept picturing their horrified looks and the rush out the door.  I’d never had so much fun playing with eavesdroppers in my life.  It served them right to so openly eavesdrop on another table.  (Not that my manuscript wasn’t interesting enough to hold them)

So if you’re ever sitting at a diner, or some place where there’s people talking about death, destruction, and murder, there’s something my mom used to always say that you might want to remember:  If you’re going to eavesdrop, eavesdrop on the entire conversation, not just part. 

Otherwise, you just might get the shock of your life!

Oh I love that sentence:  “Even my sweat is sweating”.  I wish I could take credit for it, but I heard it over on “Ghost whisperer” the other day.  I swear to goodness, it’s exactly how I feel these days.

Now, I’m from down south, where ladies don’t sweat, the perspire.  And true to the south, my body had always only perspired.  When I was a kid, I’d go outside in the middle of the Alabama summers and work in the garden, and would stop when I felt that tiny trickle down my back – sweat.  It only happened after I’d been out there a while, because my body was convinced:  Ladies perspire, so do not sweat.  Ok, so maybe it wasn’t the words that made me sweat so little, but when I was a kid I was the only one who didn’t have to change clothes in the middle of those hot Alabama summers.

So I joined the military and moved on, only to discover I’d begun getting heat rashes.  Why?  “You don’t sweat enough”, said the doctors.  Really?  How weird.

I was in a car accident a few years later, and when spring came, a friend coaxed me into laying outside in the sun with her.  So I headed out, very self conscious of the purple, protruding scar on my knee.  I laid back and closed my eyes, when I felt this odd sensation.  Something was on my knee!  And it moved!  I sat up, and was shocked to see beads of sweat trailing off my knee cap where I’d had surgery to repair damage from the accident.  No other part of my body was sweating.  Just my knee.  At last, one part of my body was normal!  At least for a while.  It too went back to no sweating a year or so later.  I was back to the “Ladies only perspire”.  LOL.  My great grandmother would be proud, don’t you think?

Of course when you don’t sweat you instead do things like overheat.  Yes, there were times I suffered heat stroke and heat exhaustion through the years.  I found a cool bath always helped out when I got to that point, so that’s good.

But then something changed.  Yes, that terrible moment everyone woman experiences.  Hot flashes.  At first, they were mild.  They seemed less “Flashes” and more a “casual” feeling of being a bit hot.  I noticed my clothing was a tad damp around the waist, etc.  Not a big deal, but slightly irritating.  Nothing that every woman doesn’t have to go through at some point in their lives.

But then I was diagnosed with Fibromyalgia, a fun condition, to say the least.  I’ve probably had it many years, but it was finally getting the best of me, so I went in and was put on a medication which did wonders.  No, I wasn’t completely cured, but I was able to do things I hadn’t for the last few years.  Things like go to a zoo and not have to fight off the pain of exhaustion as I looked at animals.  The ability to walk more than 5 minutes without wanting to curl up on the sidewalk and wait for a cab that never comes.  So things were great!

Only one problem.  There were those nasty side affects.  And what is the side affect to my med? You guessed it.  Hot flashes.  When combined with the ones of that magical “mature woman” sensation, I suddenly went from mild hot flashes to set me on fire and get it over with flashes.  One day, two weeks ago, I had a hot flash so hot I thought I was going to find blisters on my skin. It exploded from within, rushing thru the veins and to my brain (or is it the other way around? Never could figure that out).  Where’s the marshmallow’s people?  Just hold them over my body and watch them toast!  You think I’m exaggerating, but I’m not.  Ok, maybe the marshmallows wouldn’t have turned brown, but they definitely would have melted. My hand, which was laying in my lap at that time, felt as if I’d just considered picking up a hot pan on the stove and caught myself “Just in time”, the heat already searing through the skin.

So when I heard the phrase “Even my sweat is sweating” I cracked up, and immediately took to using it.  It was the best way to explain how I felt.  I no longer was a lady of the south.  I no longer perspire.  I sweat.  My clothes aren’t just damp anymore, they are soaked.  The other day I washed my hair and let it dry naturally.  Wait, it never did dry – it stayed wet even after I went to bed.  Due to sweat, of course.  (That makes it sound like I never wash my hair, but I promise, I’m just making an example. LOL)

One simple warm breeze would send me into a frenzy of heat.  My favorite way to sleep, wrapped around a pillow, no longer worked, because the pillow would rest against my chest, holding in the heat, and you guessed it, I’d wake up drenched and ready to go stick my head in the freezer.  Luckily the hot flashes are tapering off because I’ve changed meds. Either that or the fact I don’t have the heat on in a cold house is doing the trick.

Two nights ago my teeth were chattering it was so cold in my house, but I refused to turn on the heat, knowing it would only make matters worse.  I was just considering bed, when sure enough, there it was.  Heat swept through my body at a speed ten times the speed of light (Only a slight exaggeration).  Definitely faster than my heroines when they get a real good look at their hot hero.  But the weird thing?  My hand, sitting on my computer mouse, was still ice cold.  How do I know?  Cuz the first thing you automatically do is touch your forehead, as though you have a fever.  Now that was a shocker.  An ice cold hand touching a burning hot head.  Wowsa!  LOL.

The good thing is I’ve now changed meds, and over the last few days I’ve noticed the hot flashes seem less intense.  I’ve actually slept two nites in a row without waking up 15 times to throw off the covers, and then 15 more times to put them back on.  Maybe, just maybe, I’m about to get back down to the normal, everyday, “That change” hot flashes. 

So if you’ve wondered why I was a bit quiet the last six months – it was because even my sweat was sweating, especially when around the computer! The heat coming off our systems was all it took to throw me into one of those sweet, adorable flashes of heat so strong I could probably toast bread.  Like the boy on Ghost Whisperer said: Even my Sweat has been Sweating!

I hope you will all give Christine Ashworth a warm welcome today, and talk about her new release, Demon Soul.  What an AWESOME cover (and it’s not even cover friday!)  Answer her question, and one lucky winner will receive a free ecopy of Demon Soul in PDF format.

* Demon Soul 90K MARCH 2011 CRESCENT MOON PRESS ISBn 978-0-9841805-9-2

Gabriel Caine stands on the edge of the abyss. A vampire has stolen his soul and if he doesn’t get it back soon, his next step will be into Hell. Only the mysterious Rose can help him retrieve it. Without her, he really will become the devil himself.

Rose Walters has been sent back from the dead to complete one task – save Gabriel Caine. She’s drawn to Gabriel on the most basic level, but restoring his soul may cost Rose her life.

Rose has touched the whole of Gabriel, making him yearn for a love he believes he can never have. Her willingness to put her human life on the line for him forces him to bring all three parts of himself – demon, human, and Fae bloodlines, and the strengths of each – into harmony and into the fight that decided their fate.

Thank you Teresa for having me as a guest on your blog, I’m super excited to be here. I’m just off an exhausting week at RT and my brain is buzzing with all I’ve learned, seen, talked about and experienced this week. One panel struck a chord with me, and that panel was about world building in the sci-fi arena.

I write paranormal romance but I’m an eclectic reader – everything from space opera with techno-babble in it to sweeping historical romance filled with lush rolling hills and lush, rolling bodies. So the panel was interesting in that it encompassed any world you may build, from our current day world to something on a different planet.

Every world needs to make economic sense (unless it is a dead planet with no people). It needs to have a political structure, a religious structure, a social structure and an economic structure; the weather will also affect your society and should not be dismissed. Most of all though, in order for your story not to seem dated ten years from now, you should gloss over how everything works if at all possible. L.E. Modesitt calls too much discussion of technology as techno-porn, where the author is reveling in the physics of it all. And if you’re a professor of physics, then go for it – you’ve got the background. But if you’re like most of us, stay away from the technology! You want your books to have a long shelf life. (Andre Norton, Anne McCaffrey, and yes, L.E. Modesitt for instance; their books are ageless.)

My fictional world is this world – Santa Monica, California, present day. It just happens to harbor a secret underlayer of tribreds – humans who also have demon and Fae blood running through their veins. They’re the protectorate of Earth, but knowledge has gone missing and contact has not been made in a hundred years or more. Now, with the help of a human sorcerer, portals are opening up to the Chaos Plane, and full demons are coming through to the human plane. The series arc will demand my heroes to step up and meet this new threat, as they are the only ones who can do the job.

My first book, DEMON SOUL, is grounded in this world. Gradually we figure out something is going on under the radar beyond what’s happened to Gabriel, so the end of that novel is actually the beginning of the wider problem, which will be resolved in the next three novels.

Which are your favorite novels set in other worlds? Does the world structure hang together when you dig deeper?

You can get YOUR copy of Demon Soul at Amazon or AllRomanceEbooks

Don’t forget – answer Christine’s question, and enter to win!!!

I was thinking today about the different characters I’ve created, and the things that make them “individual” and not cardboard figures.  In SheWolf, my heroine was a veterinarian.  She thought about animals all the time.  She thought about her job, and how stupid white coats were when you worked with animals.  How the dirt and dog hair were always obvious.  We see her at work, with her employees, and how they bond like their own pack.  Her hero, Kieran, identifies himself entirely by his failures until he meets his mate.  The death of his parents.  The death of his first wife.  They all play on his mind and guide his every action.  But once life begins to change. Kieran identifies himself entirely as a mate.  It’s a touching and unusual role to see an alpha male take.

Then there’s Ryland, with Dark Succession.  A man who has to fight for everything, to prove himself, to be what he wants to be.  To be what his brother thinks he should be.  He can’t even control his life enough to know who his parents truly are.  His past has created a powerful, yet edgy alpha male.  One thrown into a world he’d rather not be in, but must fight to keep it.  His heroine identifies herself as nothing more than an alpha’s daughter.  A woman who isn’t attractive in her own eyes, tired of being courted for her position instead of who and what she is.  A college girl, struggling to avoid what she believes to be her future – a loveless mating. 

In Tigress by the tail, we were more with Lance, who was the youngest brother of a family of 5 kids.  How he looked up to his brothers and identified not so much with himself, but what his brothers made him.  Cassie, however is more than confident if not a little bit innocent.  The ultimate college diva, from money.  She identifies herself more as a shifter than as a woman.

In Lone Wolf, Krystal is a movie buff.  You can tell because she is constantly comparing her brothers, or events to movies.  References to Underworld, Fantastic Four, and Matrix are throughout her thought processes.  Krystal was fun for me.  My favorite line in the movie is “The Matrix, in living color.  Times Four.”  A reference to her four brothers, all wearing black trench coats.  It made me smile every time I saw it.  She considers herself the weakest of the Maxey children.  And damn it, she’s going to prove herself even if it gets her killed.  Damon, however, identifies himself as a man without a past, who fears for his future.  It’s there, in everything he says and does. 

Now I’m working on Cougar’s Fate, and our hero, Jared, has trouble identifying himself as little more than the typical “Middle child syndrome”.  The third child in a group of five, he isn’t the oldest.  He isn’t the youngest.  He isn’t the smartest and he isn’t the most powerful.  Those titles all belong to his siblings.  He isn’t even the most “Sensitive”, as he describes his next oldest brother.  At this point in the story, he has at last met a woman who will draw him to be more than “the middle child”.  More than the less than powerful Maxey brother.  I can’t wait to see what she draws out of him.  What power, or strength he develops because of her love. 

So tell me about your favorite characters.  What makes them special?  How do they identify themselves?  How does it differ from the beginning of the story to the end?  Does your favorite develop into something OTHER than what they were in the beginning? or did they simply develop more of that identification till they truly knew who and what they were?

Sorry I’ve been lax lately, but that’s because I’ve been busy.  Writing.  Among other things.  So what am I writing?  The third book in the Maxey Wizard series, of course.  The working title is Cougar’s Fate, and it looks like it’s going to have a few surprises for folks.  It seems the Cougar isn’t the only shifter in the book.  But of course I can’t give away my secrets, that would ruin the book!  For you and for me.

But, Cougar’s Fate isn’t all I’m working on.  Slowly but surely, Dark Succession gets closer and closer to release.  And since that is my current favorite book (with very good reason), I thought I’d share a little bit from the pages of Dark Succession.

Dark Succession - coming soon from Freya’s Bower

Nora Hunt is the daughter of former pack leader Sean Hunt and niece to Kieran Hunt.  Emotionally and physically scarred after being held captive for weeks, she’s finally ready to move on with her life.  But when she meets Ryland, she discovers not only a world of darkness and pain, but discovers Ryland may not be any better than those who held her captive all those weeks.

When Ryland Keegan steps in as Alpha of his dead brother’s pack, he inherits a pack of savage rogue wolven, as well as a legacy of violence, lies and five women held captive within the pack’s confines.

But when Ryland’s pack members start dying one at a time, he must decide if Nora is the catalyst or the killer.  Can he trust his True Mate? Or will he be relegated to a life of leading the dregs of Wolven society?

“What do you want?”  Nora was tall compared to most shewolves, at almost six feet, one inch, yet still he towered over her. He moved slowly, giving her every opportunity to run, his eyes watching her every move. Running almost seemed like a good idea. But then again, he might give chase, and she wouldn’t stand a chance. She tilted her head back to stare into his eyes. She lost her balance and was forced to step back.

“I want to know,” he leaned in, whispering, “why you were in the bar.”

“My car broke down.” His scent moved from her lungs to her blood. The mix of masculine power and leather worked like an aphrodisiac, striking with a force that nearly brought her to her knees. His heat burned against her flesh, though they were still inches apart. Nora longed to lean forward, hungry for more.

“Why did you run?” He cocked his head, curiosity shining in those glittering eyes.

She wasn’t about to tell him it was because she’d caught his scent and had found it shockingly attractive, something that had never happened to her before. “I didn’t want to infringe on another wolven’s territory.” Well, it was true. To a point.

His nostrils flared, he inched closer, his breath whispered against her ear. He rumbled low in his chest.

“I don’t believe you,” he murmured. His breath played across her skin and goose bumps rose. “I think you’re like all the rest.”

She narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean?”

“You’re like all the other shewolves who come through town, looking for an alpha to fuck, in hopes he’ll offer to mate.”

His words splashed over her like cold water. He was wrong. And she would tell him so.

Just as soon as her breath returned.

His sharp fangs grazed the side of her neck, and she fought the urge to offer tilt her head in offering.

She shook her head. “I’m not like the others.”  Small, powerless words.

His taunting, soft laugher rolled through her, her muscles turning to water.

“You want me, you know you do. You can’t hide it.” He inhaled deeply, his nostrils flaring. “So what’s it to be, little rabbit? Do I fuck you and send you on your way?”

He was taunting her, pushing her, and, while she knew what he was doing, she couldn’t stop the cold flush of anger. “I’m different from the others. I don’t want you.”

“Really?”  He cocked his head and met her gaze.

Her hands drew up to his massive chest. Hard, powerful muscle lay beneath his black shirt. It was almost distracting enough to make her forget her goal. Higher and higher her palms slid.

His eyes narrowed, watching. Waiting.

“Yes, really.”  She gasped the words, took in a deep breath, and continued, her voice stronger. “Unlike those mangy bitches, I have a brain, and my brain says no.”  With her hands on his shoulders, she slammed her knee upward. He twisted to the side, and she just missed his groin. Nora drew her arm back and let loose, the sharp crack of her palm against his cheek so gratifying.

His eyes widened, and he stepped back, the dull red imprint of her hand evident on his face.

Anyone who has followed me on twitter knows that I’m a big time olympics fan. I love both the summer and winter olympics and have since I was about twelve years old.  I may not be able to tell you who won what 2 years later, but most of the time I’m familiar enough with all the sports to recognize the names of the athletes and have my favorites.

One of my absolute favorite winter sports is ice skating, preferably the individual events over pairs or ice dancing.  So when the male skaters took the ice, I was very excited. I remembered Plushenko from the last olympics. I remember I didn’t like his attitude.  Well it’s four years later, and I’m an open minded fan, so when they showed a biogoraphy on Plushenko, I was prepared to like him. I Felt he was the underdog, and because people didn’t like him, I WANTED to like him.  He deserved it.  Didn’t he?

I remembered Lysacek from the 2006 Olympics as well. I remember watching his short program, wondering what had happened to him. He looked terrible.  Then we find out he had a horrid case of the stomach flu.  Then came his long program and he slam dunked it, despite having been bedridden the day before.  I admire people who can do that.  ALOT.

Enter the 2010 Olympics. 

Plushenko skated first.  His routine was technically flawless when it came to the jumps, but his arms flailed around during the footwork section to the point you wondered if he had any control at all.  And it lacked artistic talent.  It was sharp, edgy, a total “in your face” performance designed to turn people off.

I didn’t like it. 

And again, I didn’t like Plushenko.  And I didn’t think he got a score he deserved.  Compared to later skaters, it was too high.  But he skated first, and that made it hard for judges to know what the “bar” would be, so I understand that.

Lysacek did an awesome job on his short program and I was happy for him.

Then came the long program.

Lysacek skated first.  I liked his performance.  I didn’t love it, because it seemed to lack some of the emotion I’d seen in his performances in the past.  But at the same time, it was technically perfect.  No bobbles that I noticed (I think I remember one which was mentioned, but I didn’t see it).  It was artistic.  It deserved the score it received!

Plushenko’s long program came last.  I’d expected a huge shoot out by the Skaters, and while the media still hypes it as such, to the long time fan, it wasn’t even close.  Plushenko’s program was marred with multiple bobbled jumps.  Low jumps.  Slow jumps.  He was marred with a boring end to his program.  Though I have to admit, his footwork section was much better than on his short program.  All in all, it didn’t have the power he thought it did, and I have a feeling when Plushenko gets back home, deflates that ego of his and truly watches the performances, he’ll see the same things.

But now to the point of this post.  Sportsmanship.  It’s hard to lose.  It’s even harder to get so close and not win, when you know you could do better than you did.  I think Plushenko knows that.  Plushenko has been the epitome of poor sportsmanship, blaming the scoring system for his low score, when in reality it was his bobbled jumps.  Complaining skating was taking a step back because people wouldn’t do quads in competition.  If a skater can do other jumps and make up those points, what does it matter?

Ice skating is a combination sport. It’s not just about altheticism. And it’s not just about artistry.  It’s both.  It appears the Russian skater doesn’t understand that. 

I feel bad for Lysacek, who has not only earned every point and tenth of a point he received on his routines, he deserved that gold medal.  And he’s had to listen to question after question from reporters about how he feels about Plushenko’s complaints.

The man has been amazing.  He’s never once put down Plushenko, his performance or his behavior.  My hat is off to Lysacek!  Great job!  Great sportsmanship!  If they gave out medals for sportsmanship, Evan, you would stand at the top of the podium!  Great job!

Oh and one last word.  To all the Olympics winners standing on that podium listening to the National Anthem:  Thank you for putting your hand over your heart where it belongs.  Since the moment I put on twitter how the olympians were not showing proper respect, all but ONE has done so.  Kudos to you!!!!!  You’ve done your nation proud, not just in your absolutely AWESOME accomplishments, but in your respect for your nation!