Wednesday, October 29, 2014
In just a little over a month my debut novel SOUTHERN COMFORTS will be released! I'm so excited, I'm giving away 5 autographed copies. Stop over if you get a chance and enter!
Monday, September 29, 2014
I'm welcoming a Golden Heart sister who's revealing her cover this week. (And isn't her hero, Conlan, hot!)
Teach Me (Southern Nights Book One)
A woman determined to heal…
Shy researcher Jess Kingston spent the last eight weeks recovering from her ex-boyfriend’s brutal attack. Body healed, she’s ready to put her life back together—except her ex isn’t ready to let go. She won’t cower in a corner while Brit tortures her, but she’s powerless to fight back.
A man determined to resist…
Ex-military security specialist Conlan James avoids commitment like the plague. His job, his Harley, and the occasional one-night stand are all he needs, until the day he rescues Jess from a tense situation and realizes he can’t get her off his mind. He can teach her to protect herself, but protecting his heart is another matter.
A madman determined to win…
As the deadly game of cat-and-mouse with Brit heats up, so does the hunger between Con and Jess. Safety might be found in numbers, but in bed, all bets are off—and the wrong move could lead to heartbreak. Or death.
Oh my - sounds wonderful!
Here's a little bit about Ella --
Ella grew up in the Deep South, where books provided adventures, friends, and her first taste of romance. Now she writes her own romantic adventures, with plenty of hot alpha men and the women who love and challenge them. With a day job, a husband, two active teenagers, and two not so active cats, Ella is always busy, but getting the voices in her head down on paper is a top priority. Connect with Ella at www.ellasheridanauthor.com .
Author Website: www.ellasheridanauthor.com
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Author E-mail: email@example.com
Social Media Links:
Amazon Author Page https://www.amazon.com/author/ellasheridan
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Twitter (@AuthorESheridan) https://twitter.com/AuthorESheridan
You can pre-order at the following sites. For only $0.99. And make sure you add the book to your Goodreads to be Read bookshelf!
Here's a teaser --
What the hell are you doing here?
This wasn’t the first time in the last five minutes that Conlan had asked himself the same question.
Maybe if he had an answer, the revolving door in his brain would stop spinning, but that didn’t seem likely. Not anytime soon. Not with the beautiful brunette he’d come to see sitting close enough that, if he let himself look, he could detect the light dusting of freckles across her nose. But he wasn’t looking, and he shouldn’t be here, so how had he ended up standing in line behind the thirtysomething latte league? It sure as hell wasn’t for the coffee.
Legs braced wide, he shifted from one hip to the other, the creak of his motorcycle chaps reminding him he could be enjoying a few extra minutes on the Harley before work instead of spending that precious time here, mooning over a woman. Doe Eyes. The first time he’d seen her all those months ago, he’d thought her eyes reminded him of sweet Georgia pecans and skittish does. The name stuck, as had the memory of her eyes—and a hundred other glimpses he shouldn’t have taken.
Another name called, another latte dispensed, another shuffle forward.
He hadn’t seen those eyes in eight weeks, and yet still he’d shown up every Monday, like clockwork, hoping for one more glimpse and calling himself an idiot. Wasn’t like he planned on asking her out. So why the hell did he torture himself with these weekly forays into enemy territory?
Sex. Or sex appeal, at least.
Another step closer to the counter. The move didn’t ease the constriction behind the zipper of his jeans. This was what she did to him, thinking about her. Especially now, after so long apart.
The thought had a snort escaping. Ahead of him, Mr. Suit and Tie startled and glanced over a shoulder, but Conlan ignored the look. He was too busy figuring out when “this” had become enough like a relationship in his head that he would think things like “after so long apart.” Doe Eyes might appear prominently in his thoughts from time to time—especially certain times—but he’d never seen her outside of this coffee shop. And he wouldn’t. A quick roll in the hay was one thing, but Doe Eyes wasn’t the kind of woman who had one-night stands. He could tell that much just by looking at her. She was a relationship kind of woman, and he was a relationship-phobic kind of guy. Which meant he seriously needed to get a grip—and not on the part of him growing even harder at the idea.
Idiot was right.
He should be at work. Southern summer heat brought out the crazies almost as well as full moons did, and JCL Security was feeling the impact, juggling cases like they had eight arms, which they didn’t. Too many sleepless nights had been spent at his office, especially with the Bennett case coming up. Just a couple more weeks before Thea Bennett had her bastard of a husband before a judge and hopefully out of her life, but the paper- and prep work to get the high-profile bastard there had been a bitch. He seriously needed to—
For a passing moment he was convinced the voice belonged to the woman filling his thoughts. But when the high, candied voice called again, he realized it was coming from the counter. The cashier. Tonya, Tammy? Tracy? He couldn’t remember. She was blonde with a deep tan he would’ve deemed impossible in a landlocked city like Atlanta, the shade a stark contrast to her white smile. Stepping up, he threw her a grin. “Hey.”
She batted long lashes, almost hiding the way her glance slid down to the crotch of his jeans, framed in his leather chaps. “Long time, no see.”
He winked automatically. “It’s a long wait between Mondays.”
The girl giggled. “Your usual?”
“That’s right. Thanks,” he said, passing over a ten-dollar bill.
She made change, certain to caress his hand as she laid the money in his palm. Conlan was more interested in the dark Colombian roast another employee was walking toward them. High-octane all the way. The sight of the near-black brew had him salivating for something other than Doe Eyes for the first time that morning.
He reached the condiment counter just as his phone buzzed in his back pocket. Probably Jack. Retrieving the cell confirmed his suspicion.
Where the hell are you? his partner had texted.
Piss off, Con replied, a grin tugging at his lips. The irony that he’d spent too much time asking himself the very same question didn’t escape him. In a half hour he’d be at the office and they could both stop wondering.
With a little back-and-forth he managed to cram the phone back in his tight jeans. He glanced around absently, and his gaze snagged on a pair of amber-brown eyes that suddenly met his.
Doe Eyes dropped her chin and shifted over the slightest bit, enough that her friend’s position blocked her from view, but not before he caught the blush coloring her creamy cheeks.
His cock banged against his zipper as if begging to be let out. The bite of pain caught his breath in his throat. Jesus, what the hell was he—
Don’t! Ask. Again. He knew what the hell he was doing here, and he needed to go; he really did. He needed to stop letting his dick run this show, grab his coffee, and get back to reality.
He was restless, that was all. He was a man who needed action. Needed to be doing something, anything, not sitting behind a desk like he’d been for weeks while prepping Thea’s case. Usually he worked off his frustration in a way that involved cool silk sheets and bare skin and satisfaction on both sides, but there’d been no damn time. Just his hand and the additional chafing it provided, which wasn’t near as effective—or satisfying. That had to be the reason he couldn’t stop thinking about his mystery woman.
Of course. That had to be it.
Popping the lid off his cardboard cup released the rich aroma of ground coffee beans into the air. He lifted his cup and blew across the hot liquid, the sound almost a sigh of relief. He was already reaching for the packets of sugar when black squiggles caught his eye. There. On the part of the paper sleeve now facing him, he could see a name and number were clearly written: Tiffany. A 470 area-code phone number.
So that was her name. Sounded like an eighties pop star. A glance over his shoulder found the cashier leaning across the bar where drinks were picked up, her mounded breasts shelved there, on display. Come back soon, she mouthed, her shoulders doing a little wiggle. On reflex, he threw her a grin, but her seemingly seductive move couldn’t pull his glance downward. His dick didn’t even twitch. Apparently only one thing could trigger his runaway libido this morning.
He added the sugar, trying to ignore the panic in his gut and his one-track mind. The latter was impossible. He wanted to know Doe Eyes’ name, her phone number. Were her breasts as full as they looked beneath that starched white button-down? Was her hair as soft as he swore it would be when he fisted it between his fingers?
He stirred a bit too vigorously, and coffee sloshed over the side of the cup.
Don’t look. Don’t. He realized he’d closed his eyes. A sigh escaped as he rubbed a thumb and finger against them, but as soon as the lids popped open, he searched for her. Had to see her. Felt his heartbeat pick up knowing she might meet his eyes.
He was so screwed—and smart enough to admit it. He let go, let the conflict and the churning in his gut and the tension cramping his muscles go. And then he looked toward her table.
It was empty.
He stood for a moment, cursing himself, the coffee, and everything else he could think of. When another customer stepped up behind him and cleared his throat, wanting access to the counter, Con grabbed his cup and headed out the door. On his way, he chucked the coffee in the trash without a single sip.
Pre-Order Ella's book!
Friday, August 22, 2014
Bad Traveler is a small town Contemporary Romance and all you foodies should be happy, since the heroine owns a bakery. (Books like this make me sooo hungry!)
Here's the book's recipe:
Recipes are a way of life for Gwen Jones. Take one single mother, her infant daughter and a business plan for a small town bakery. Combine with an eventful cross-country flight, chance encounter with her college crush and a dash of motion sickness. Stir in a few nuts, or family members, and large quantities of chocolate. Will this recipe be an oven oops, or as delicious as her alma matter’s newest coach?
Having survived an attack in Afghanistan that cost him a leg and a wife, Kyle Collins developed a strategy to find meaning in life. He may be an assistant basketball coach but he refuses to sit on the sidelines. When the runs into the woman whose lips are as unforgettable as her brownies, Kyle decides to spice up Gwen’s recipes.
When a secret ingredient is thrown into the mix, can their recipe for a happily-ever-after rise to the occasion, or will it end up a hot mess?
Lola's given us just a little taste of the book!
“Or we could go to my shop, drink some coffee or have cookies and milk. I have my keys.”
“Perfect.” His heart thumped as he put the car in gear. No one would bother them. They would be alone in a cozy space she’d created. The absence of students left the streets virtually empty. Her gloved hand covered his for the five-minute drive. After a few turns, they parked behind the store and entered through the kitchen.
“What will you have? Unfortunately, I have tons of inventory left from today.” She opened the back side of the display counter, revealing about a dozen or so of six different types of cookies. “I swore I wouldn’t sell day-old cookies, but I may bundle up some at a discount rate tomorrow since there are so many.” The touch of sadness in her voice made him want to whip out his wallet and buy them all up.
“I’ll take an oatmeal raisin, a chocolate chip, and…. Are those ginger snaps?”
“Actually, those are molasses cookies. They are spicy like a ginger snap, but different.” She stacked an assortment of cookies on a plate. “It’s my nana’s recipe. See what you think. Coffee?”
“Don’t make coffee on my account. I’m too wired already. I’d rather have milk.”
“Me, too.” She poured milk into a couple of mugs and started toward the corner table, which featured a plush, secondhand love seat. He followed with the cookies. A rapping on the window drew their attention to a couple outside. Gwen pointed to the Closed sign, but the couple persisted.
He walked to the door. “We’re closed.”
She rushed to his side, adding, “We’ll be open Tuesday at seven a.m. We hope to open in the evenings starting in late January.”
The couple walked away.
“I could have made a sale, but….” She sounded frustrated and tired.
“I think we should stay in the kitchen. I doubt people will bother us if we have lights on back there.”
A spark returned to her eyes. “If we sit on the floor behind the counter, no one will know we we’re here. They’ll think someone left the lights on by accident.”
Sitting side-by-side on the floor, backs against the counter, they set the plate of cookies between them along with their mugs of milk, handy for dunking. He picked up the firm molasses cookie with large pieces of sugar that stuck to his fingers. The crisp outside yielded to a softness that melted in his mouth. Sweet with a hint of saltiness to make it interesting, just like Gwen. Tonight, he’d see if she would melt in his arms, and his mouth. It was his night.
When I asked Lola what her inspiration, here's what she told me?
Lola: For me, inspiration swirls in the ether until various pieces collide in my brain. Three factors came together for Bad Traveler.
1. There is nothing fun about flying cross country with an infant. I have been the screaming baby section and run through airports with car seats precariously dangling from the stroller. I have pretended turbulence is “super-fun bouncy ride in the sky” even though I’m more scared than the kids.
2. Living near the home of Seal Team 6, I grew more aware of issues facing veterans as they returned home from war. A series of reports in the Virginian-Pilot piqued my curiosity.
3. The bakery near me closed. I decided to invent one, which is much easier than opening a real one.
You can find more information of Bad Traveler here. Stop over and sign up to win a $10.00 gift card to the winner’s choice of Amazon or Barnes & Noble runs Aug 22nd through Sept 4th 2014.
Here's a little bit about Lola Karns
Lola currently resides in Minnesota with her husband, two children, two hairless cats and a fluffy ex-stray cat. When not writing, she enjoys baking, reading and drinking coffee.
Wednesday, June 18, 2014
A funny thing happened to me on April 30th – I lost my phone. I don’t usually do this. Like almost never. Okay, I do lose my phone inside my purse, but who doesn’t? (I really need to replace my current purse, just for this reason.)
But on April 30th my phone went missing for hours. Seven and a half very important hours.
I had a good reason for misplacing my phone. My daughter, who’s propagating my first granddaughter, was having chest pains and really high BP the night before. There was an ER visit complete with X-rays and CT scans. So the morning of April 30th, I called for an update on how she was feeling. (They never could figure out what was wrong, but she is fine.)
And I tucked my phone in my robe pocket.
That day, I was really focused on the revisions to my 2014 Golden Heart finalist manuscript—POETIC JUSTICE. After attending Spring Fling in Chicago and some major thinking on my drive home, I’d finally found the manuscripts magic. My computer was in Airplane mode—because I’m pretty sure Windows 8 is using Internet Explorer with my mail and other apps and that was when Heartbleed was a problem.
And I missed the following Tweets!
Yup—didn’t see these tweets.
I finally made a concerted effort to find the d*** phone. I called it. Hubby called it. I went up and down the stairs, searching perhaps swearing. Finally, for some reason, I checked my robe hanging in the bedroom.
Voila! My phone. And I had missed 5 calls. Okay -- one was me searching for my phone. One was hubby helping me search for my phone.
And there were three call from Laura.
Laura left an email asking me to call her at 2:26PM. (Remember I’m in Airplane mode so I’m not getting emails.)
Laura and I had just seen each other at the conference. We were hopeful that this last revision for SuperRomance would do the trick. She was being so kind, telling me I was sooooo close. So when I called her back (3:59 PM) I figured she was going to tell me that Harlequin rejected the latest revision.
When I reached Laura, we talked about my phone and my daughter. And then, figuring we’d just been together and she was being letting me down gently, I asked, “They rejected Southern Comforts?”
The answer? Drumroll!
Harlequin SuperRomance bought SOUTHERN COMFORTS. And they are slotting it for December 2014. Wheeee indeed!
I’m going to be published!!
I ran out of my office. Kicked my slippers off so I wouldn’t tumble down the carpeted stairs and break my neck and screamed at my hubby, “I sold!”
And Laura’s next tweet was ----
So after five Golden Heart Finals, I have finally sold. (This manuscript finaled in 2011, then I rewrote the opening and it finaled in 2013.) As much as I have loved being part of the marvelous sisterhood of Golden Heart finalists, I’m so glad to be ineligible for the 2015 Golden Heart.
I have taken perseverance as my motto. I had an agent offer (on this book) and then rescind her offer. I submitted three other manuscripts to Laura before she signed me. (She passed on a previous version of SOUTHERN COMFORTS, but called to say she wanted me to keep sending her manuscripts.) I had two Revise and Resubmits from Megan Long before they offered to buy the book.
So don’t give up.
Here’s my question: Do you lose your phone – if so, what’s the funniest place you have found it or the most important call you missed?
Originally posted on the Ruby-Slippered Sisterhood blog.
Wednesday, June 11, 2014
Sunday, June 1, 2014
I'm continuing the internet phenomenon of the My Writing Process Blog Relay. The lovely Leslie Lynch, my 2013 Golden Heart® sister, tagged me last week. You can check out her writing process here. I'm excited to report her first book, HIJACKED, comes out TODAY!! WHEEEEE!!!! I know I'll be hitting the buy button on this Golden Heart® finalist manuscript. Thanks for the tag, Leslie!
So here goes - WHAT AM I WORKING ON?
Revisions! I sold my 2013 Golden Heart® manuscript SOUTHERN COMFORTS to Harlequin SuperRomance. I got the call April 30th and received my revision letter on May 8th. There were 177 comments from my editor.
I've been focused on ripping apart and adding scenes. And am just about ready to hit send on this set of edits. I had two revise and resubmit letters from Megan Long, my editor, before they took a chance and bought the book. (I still get a little zing every time I say my editor) Silly me—I thought the next set of revisions would be lighter. But writing isn't for the weak. My publication date is December 2014. I'm so thrilled and grateful Megan Long took a chance on this book and for Laura Bradford, agent extraordinaire, for representing me!
I've also been working through revisions on my 2014 Golden Heart® finalist manuscript POETIC JUSTICE with my critique group. It is a finalist in the Short Contemporary category and is Romantic Suspense. Once I send the revisions for SOUTHERN COMFORTS off, I have to dive back in and finish those revisions.
HOW DOES MY WORK DIFFER FROM OTHERS OF ITS GENRE?
Wow – this is a hard question. I write families. Either groups that eventually find and form families or actual families. SOUTHERN COMFORTS is set in a Savannah Bed and Breakfast run by three sisters. Although much of contemporary romance is set in small towns, I tend to set mine in cities like Savannah or Minneapolis, although I have started a series that I set in a ski resort in Montana. It's actually fun creating a town and if Touch the Sky Montana reminds you a little of Big Sky, its' because my parents had a condo on the mountain.
I do tend to write too much business in my manuscripts. It is what is familiar. I was a VP of Finance for a pharmaceutical company and also a CFO of medical group. In the current revisions I'm pulling back on tons of the business bits I had included.
WHY DO I WRITE WHAT I WRITE?
I didn't know the first hot mess novel that I wrote was a romance. It now lies gathering dust bunnies under the bed (or sitting on diskettes if you remember those). But once I joined my local RWA chapter, I figured out I was writing romance. (Even when I joined, I thought I was joining a Fiction Writers group. I was clueless!) I don't think I'd ever read a true romance, but the books I loved usually included a relationship with a happily ever after. Now I devour romance books, because I finally embraced reading my genre. Love it! What's more powerful than love overcoming all odds and healing the emotionally wounded?
HOW DOES YOUR WRITING PROCESS WORK?
I usually have an idea—a what if idea. What if four sisters were struggling to turn their family mansion in Savannah into a B&B? (My sisters and I were visiting Savannah on a sister weekend.) What if a woman was helping a sister by shuttling poets to a conference and was kidnapped. (I was doing just that when I came up with the premise for POETIC JUSTICE) What if three men find out they are almost triplets, but they were born of three different mothers? (THE PERFECT CHILDREN was inspired by a BBC radio story on genetic modification when I was driving home from dropping my daughter off at college.)
I used to be a dedicated pantster. But as I learned more craft, I began to document more of the plots before I began the first draft. Initially, I used a Big Beautiful Worksheet from an online class by Laurie Schnebly Campbell called Plotting Via Motivation. For the last several books I've revised and drafted, I've begun using Blake Snyder's Beats. I may not be 100% true to every beat, but my books now have more form in the first draft.
When I begin a book. I complete a GMC for each character. I also create a background document that contains their physical attributes. I give them a birthday and use Linda Goodman's Sun Signs to get character traits that fit with their GMC. In my background document I keep character names, locations, key information, hyperlinks on research I've done, and any other information that I want to be able to access without searching my manuscript. I keep both documents open when I am drafting or revising.
I also log in and out of a spreadsheet as I work. And because it's data, I might even make a graph or two. Here's one I made while working on revisions. I may not be a financial executive anymore, but I still love numbers and charts.
I also set goals, another residual activity from my business background. I love to check off completed activities on my To Do lists.
There are a number of groups that keep me going. I've been lucky enough to final in the Golden Heart® five times. I'm a proud member of the Unsinkables, The Startcatchers, The Lucky 13s and this year's class—The Dreamweavers. The women in these groups are inspiring, resilient, fabulous cheerleaders and wonderful consolers. I'm also very active in Midwest Fiction Writers and somewhat active in WIsRWA . But I learned how to write in my fabulous critique group which currently consists of Ann Hinnenkamp, Kathryn Kohorst, Leanne Farrell and Neroli Lacey.
WHO'S UP NEXT WEEK ON THE MY WRITING PROCESS BLOG TOUR?
I'm tagging the fabulous Kay Hudson a three time Golden Heart® Finalist. We've been Starcatchers and Lucky 13s together. I'm also tagging Ellen Lindseth. Ellen's a chaptermate at MFW and a 2014 Golden Heart® finalist with her WWII historical novel. So happy to be on this wicked fun ride with her this year.
Be sure to visit them next week on June 9th.
Thanks again, Leslie, for tagging me!
Thursday, January 9, 2014
During the 2013 NaNoWriMo, I realized I’ve increased my drafting productivity. And this productivity has increased exponentially.
Before this November NaNoWriMo, it had been a long time since I’d actually drafted a manuscript. (Since I keep a log, I can tell you, it had been 5 months.)
That doesn’t mean I stopped writing. I’ve revised three different manuscripts. (One three times.) Sure I rewrote and added complete new scenes in those books, but I think revising uses a different part of my brain than drafting. When I’m drafting, even when I’m not writing, I’m thinking about my characters, about the next scene, or the next chapter. Or I’m ripping out my hair, wondering where the book should go. Wanting to wail when the GMC and other plot tools I’ve created fail to help me out of the corner I just painted my characters into.
But as with any other activity, my writing improves the more I force myself to stay in my chair with my hands on the keyboard.
This makes sense. When I took piano lessons, I had to practice at least 30 minutes a day, the same with guitar and voice lessons. Dance required hours of repetition to perfect a movement, weeks of practice to perfect a dance. Golf required even more practice. I hit a minimum of 200 balls a day, spent an hour around the practice green and usually played 27 holes.
Writing isn’t any different than sports. It requires practice to improve. When I first participated in Book-in-a-Week, I was amazed at other writers’ productivity.
Here’s a comparison of April/May 2008 BIW with my daily November 2013 NaNoWriMo.
Words per Hour
I write more than twice as fast as I did in 2008. (You can see that it takes a while to get back into the groove even now.)
There are number of reasons for this productivity improvement. I’ve turned off my internal editor. I plot more. I set goals. (Really important to me.) And I think because I am flexing my writing muscles, I am getting better, faster, stronger. (For some reason the Million Dollar Man theme is running through my head.)
I know that a lot of the magic happens when I revise. That’s when I layer in more emotion and add beats. But to help me really understand the story and my characters’ motivation, I need to get a first draft down. And the faster I can do that, the faster I can start revising.
So my advice? Get out and flex those muscles. Establish good writing habits. Turn off that internal editor. And don’t use excuses to push away from the keyboard.