Birthday contest!

Today's my birthday!

Two of the best gifts: After Tuesday's scare with Tiger, he's doing OK. He's a real little fighter.

The second one? I made my goal of losing 15 pounds by my birthday! YAY!

So to celebrate my birthday, because I like giving stuff away, I'm giving away a copy of my first book, THE FALCON AND THE DOVE. It's an historical paranormal set in Egypt.

Here's the blurb:

In the 18th Dynasty of Egypt, there was born a love that can never be broken—that of a young queen and a great warrior. And while the warrior's duty to combat the infidel was strict, and though his beloved was the wife of Pharaoh, the two would be separated only by death. But then only for a time. Elizabeth Summers comes to the dig in 1892. English archaeologists have made huge advances, and Egypt's fantastic history is being laid bare. And while Elizabeth doesn't know whether she is the reincarnation of an ancient queen, she realizes that in the arms of a great sheikh she has found her destiny.

Here's a link to an excerpt and reviews.

All you need to do to enter is just leave a comment. I'll draw the winner one week from today.

Tomorrow I'm off to the Romantic Times convention, bright and early. Driving up there and going to listen to Fergie on the way, blowing all the elderly drivers out of the water as I crank up the volume. Heh!

Going home

Cover model contestants from RT 2008.

I have no tact, I had them say BOOBIES when I took this shot.

Bobbi Smith was doing a fundraiser for SOS, take your photo with the guys and make a donation. Bobbi... I can't say enough about her. She's very nice, warm, outgoing and just a good person.

There are a lot of good people in romanceland. Authors, readers, publishers, reviewers, etc. I met CL Wilson, who lives in my home state, and her mom. Readers Kitty and her daughter Nikki. Kitty is an artist who does beautiful paintings. Nikki writes poetry and we were trying to encourage her to write short stories. I met Isabo, who is just the greatest person.

There's a blur of names and faces right now my tired brain can't remember.

I do remember someone telling me that at the book fair when the lights went out, someone yelled. WHERE ARE THE MEN? (hiding in fear, I'd say) And someone told me she'd handed a book to Brenda Novak to sign and the lights went out and Brenda signed it by the light of her cell phone.

Gotta love the innovation at these conventions.

Getting up this a.m. was pure torture. My eyeballs felt glued shut. I had to pack. I went to bed at 1 and got up at 6. I managed to pack all, and eventually got downstairs.

In the lobby I saw my editor, and got to say goodbye to him. I told him I was afraid my suitcase would go over the weight limit.

He asked, "Why?"

I said, "I have an Ellora's Cave cover model in here."

I'm at the airport now, trying to wake up and make use of down time to upload and sort out photos because I know as soon as I get home it will be back in the home mode. I have to go to work at the day job tomorrow. Something amusing for me at this conference was talking to other authors and having them be stunned that I write for two houses and work FT. They said they don't know how I do it.

I don't, either.

RT 2008 was fun, tiring, and an interesting experience. I'm in a period now of introspection, trying to make decisions about the future. I was at Mona's booth at Club RT, the woman who sells gorgeous shawls and jewelry, and looking over the jewelry. I met Celeste Bradley, talked with her for about 5 minutes about jewelry. I bought a pair of turquoise earrings. Certain stones carry certain properties with them, and turquoise, which I love, is supposed to bring clarity and good fortune.

I'm not seeing either now, but there is always hope.

Though the booksigning for me yesterday was meh, and a disappointment, I'm glad I did it just to meet people who wanted to meet me. There weren't that many, but it was very gratifying to meet them. I appreciate every reader who takes a chance on my books.

And it's so validating as an author to hear a reader say, "thank you." I met one woman who told me she has horrid migraines and the books she reads help her though the pain.

The publishing world is like a roller coaster. Authors have ups and downs. You put out a book, cross your fingers and pray and hope it sells. Books you think are probably doing great sometimes end up not selling that well. Or you get really crappy reviews, and the book ends up doing well.

If I had to compare it to anything, it is a lot like modeling. Some get great gigs and do well, and have skyrocketing careers. Others get some bread and butter gigs, and others get one or two modeling jobs and they struggle.

If you're very lucky and very talented, you can make a real career out of being a romance author. So much of this business, and I heard it again and again at this conference, is luck and timing.

And if you're lucky, you do okay, and have the gratification of meeting readers who thank you for writing the books you love to write.

That is probably the best thing, for me at least, about being an author. I'm grateful for every reader who takes a chance on my books. I'll never be a "superstar" author, but I'm glad there are readers who like my books, and I'm glad I got to write the books I really love to write.

And having Jimmy portray the hero from THE SCORPION AND THE SEDUCER was a real highlight for me. I've never had a cover model portray my hero in the competition. And I've never been escorted into the competition and had a front row seat, as if I were someone special.

Now it's back to my darling hubby, whom I really miss, the dogs, the day job and reality. I'm glad I'm going home. RT is like an escape from reality in a way. You can go there and for a few days or the whole week, feel totally in another world with fairy balls, and cover models and authors and publishers and readers and booksellers.

And if you're really lucky, you have a lot of great memories to take back home with you. Or a cover model or two in your suitcase. :-)

How to pack for a Romantic Times Convention

Do not attempt this at home. May prove dangerous…

I told my husband I was taking the day off from work Tuesday to pack for the RT convention in Pittsburgh. He looked at me as he does when I tell him something truly nutty, like when I told him I always wanted to climb Mt. Everest, except I’m scared of heights.

DH: “Why do you need a whole day off to pack for a four-day convention?”
Me: “Because it’s RT. I’m an author and have to pack all this stuff I’m giving away.”
DH: “So you are going to pay this money to attend a convention to give away stuff and you need a whole day to pack it into a suitcase?”
Me: “Right. Glad you see my point.”

I took the day off, first indulging in a pedicure to mentally cleanse my mind for the Great Packing Event, known hereon as the GPE.

I got home, my toes all bright fire engine red, and started to pack. First, I made myself a rum runner. A rum runner is a tropical, Keys drink and I need fortification. I selected my conference clothes and laid them out on the bed.

Then I girded myself and set out to get the small red suitcase for the GPE. As a writer for an international charity, I've visited poor countries from Haiti to Guyana, squeezing a week’s worth of clothing into a suitcase the size of a handbag. “You can do this, you can do this,” I silently chant as I drag out the sturdy red suitcase.

The dogs look at me with woebegone expressions. Dolce knows the Red Suitcase. I took out that red suitcase when I packed for the Dominican Republic three weeks ago. His little face takes on a mutinous expression.

As I drag the red suitcase to the bedroom, the dogs chase after me. “No, you are NOT leaving us again. Who will play with us?”

I put the red suitcase on the bed, and open it. Dolce puts his paws on the bed and looks at me. Pouts.

The small travel alarm clock I bought because I lost two other travel alarm clocks is broken. I proceed to throw into the suitcase my panties, socks, hose and flamingo pajamas. And realize, I Can’t Do This. Already the suitcase is full.

Wonder if I can just wear the flamingo PJ’s to all the events.

Drag red suitcase out to the living room to put it back into the garage. Realize Dolce has left me a “gift” on the living room rug. He sits there, wagging his tail and grinning. “This is what I think of your leaving,” the gift announces.

Clean up the “gift,”, wash the rug, go to garage and hunt down the Green Monster. This is a suitcase that could easily smuggle 10 small children in and out of the country. The color resembles nuclear puke. Easy to spot on a baggage carrousel because no one wants to admit they’d purchase something this tacky.

Drag Green Monster to the bedroom, nearly trip over the dogs who think that if I fall on my butt and break something, I can’t go.

Open Green Monster. Find the two missing travel alarm clocks.

Take a large swig of rum runner. Say a Hail Mary and proceed to throw in flamingo PJ’s, panties, socks, hose, and then items for the gift basket I’m giving away at Club RT and the silent auction items to raise money for charity. And the basket I need for giving away pens, bookmarks and cover flats for my new Dorchester Egyptian historical, The Scorpion & the Seducer.

Tiger jumps on bed and proceeds to lay in middle of conference clothing. Grins.

Put Tiger on the floor. Take another swig of rum runner. Exhausted, I decide to check email. See that my Nocturne editor has wished me a good trip and by the way, I’ll have your November Nocturne edits ready in early May and edits for your Nocturne Bite.

Take a giant swig of rum runner as I anticipate said edits.

Drag out all my conference clothing. Check the weather in Pittsburgh. Realize it will be 55 degrees at night. Shiver. Think about packing parka, decide that maybe I should fur line flamingo PJ’s and just wear those. Hunt through closet for a jacket.

Take conference clothes and realize the suitcase is already half full with stuff to give away. Sit on bed, take another swig of rum runner.

Admire red toenails.

Begin rolling up conference clothing. An old ex-Army pal told me this trick. “You can pack anything into anything if you roll clothing,” he assured me.

Try it, seriously doubt John has ever been to an RT convention.

Make a brave attempt again. Then realize I am packing last year’s conference clothes. What if they don’t fit? I did lose weight, about ½ a pound. Take off shorts, try on conference pants. Breathe sigh of relief. They fit.

Take off pants, roll and tuck into suitcase.

Realize I forgot to pack the VIRGIN and EX VIRGIN badges I made up for fun to give away. Fetch badges, pack, take another swig of rum runner.

Dolce barks. Mail is here! Start to go outside to get mail.

Realize I’m dressed only in a T-shirt and underwear. It’s south Florida, but not South Beach. Put shorts back on. Sort through mail, check email again, and steel myself to go back to packing.

Drag out the rolling fold-up travel bag for the promo stuff. Authors
Linnea Sinclair and Nancy Cohen told me, “You MUST buy one. It’s perfect for conferences!”

Stuff rolling bag and realize it is sagging to one side like a drunk person on a Saturday night bender.

Say a Hail Mary that someone will want all this stuff I am giving away.

Check email again. Spam folder has email about someone asking if my male member is too small.

Go back to bedroom and realize… I still have to pack hair dryer, cosmetics, contact lens solution, hairbrush, extra hose, nail polish in case extra hose run, bookmarks, extra basket to throw in extra stuff to give away, two toys for Heather Graham whose Slush Pile Players are visiting a children’s ward at a hospital Saturday, and more.

Sit down and start to compose letter to spammer who asked if my male member is too small. “Forget the penis,” I write. “If you can increase the size of my suitcase an extra ten inches and not have the airline charge me a trillion dollars for overweight baggage, I’ll pay you anything.”

Take another swig of rum runner, sit down to admire red toenails again. My flight leaves tomorrow and somehow, someway, I will pack everything into the Green Monster.

I am woman. I am strong. I can do this.

Free limo with virgin

This is Dolce with the duck I plan to put in my free basket giveaway next week at Club RT. I'm making up a beach bag filled with stuff like flip flops and suntan oil and a towel and other beach stuff, along with some of my books.

Problem is, the duck is not a silent duck. It quacks Freres Jacques.

How am I going to pack a Freres Jacques quacking duck into my suitcase? What if it starts quacking at a bad moment? Will the airline baggage handlers toss out my suitcase, in terror of a quaking duck?

I have tons of stuff to lug to RT. Bookmarks for THE SCORPION & THE SEDUCER.

Cover flats for THE SCORPION & THE SEDUCER. Pens advertising THE SCORPION & THE SEDUCER.

Can you tell that I'll be plugging my newest book?

It's been a crazy, crazy week. Between finally getting the FIL home and settled, and then getting ready for RT next week, doing a newsletter mailing for THE SCORPION AND THE SEDUCER, and this week I was at a two-day marketing seminar for the day job. We looked at advertising, graphics, everything.

At one point we were analyzing an ad for Virgin Atlantic airlines. The ad gave away a free limo ride.

I was so tired that I wrote in my notes, FREE LIMO WITH VIRGIN as I typed on the Alpha Smart.

Then I copied my notes to the other people in my department. Oy.

No writing done at all this week. It's been too hectic. Maybe tomorrow.

In the meantime, I saw over on Ferfe's blog that the temps in Pittsburgh are supposed to dip down to the 30's. WTH? I live in Florida. I do not do cold weather in spring.

I'd go out and buy a ski mask, except I think I may have enough trouble packing the quaking duck in my suitcase, let alone trying to explain packing a ski mask...

This is so discouraging...

Food riots have started in Haiti. Actually started last week in the usually sleepy town of Les Cayes. Four people were killed in relation to that.

Now the people are protesting in the streets of PAP, burning tires, disrupting public transportation and the UN tanks and troops are called in to try to calm things down and keep order.

They have good reason to protest. They're hungry. Food prices have escalated 50% in the past year.

Fifty percent. Can you imagine living on $1 a day and your grocery bill rises 50%?

It's so discouraging to see this... It's a sad sad circle. Only a couple of months ago I was in Cite Soleil, walking the streets, visiting the people, and I've never seen it that quiet. I was so enthusiastic and happy because I thought, "Now we can finally get some work done here."

I met a little girl named Nelda, only 8, who had one cup of rice to share with her two siblings. Her mother was at the market, trying to earn money, so Nelda was the babysitter. Tears trickled down her cheeks as Nelda told me that when she sees her little brother and sister crying because they are hungry, she doesn't have any hope and she cries as well.

Can you imagine being eight years old, and instead of worrying about your Heelies getting worn down, or having a crush on the boy in your homeroom or making soccer practice, you are crying because your brother and sister are sobbing from hunger?

These kids, and there are hundreds of thousands in Haiti like Nelda, know the real, grinding pain of hunger. The kind that makes them drink salt water, gnaw on their fingers, do anything just to try to get rid of that clenching pain.

Now the people are rioting in the streets because they have no food. Small protests by Haiti's standard, only about 1,000, but still the burning tires and the violence (they are even attacking some journalists and photographers) are enough to bring things, once more, to a dead halt.

Next week I'll be at RT in Pittsburgh, signing books, meeting readers, booksellers, friends and plugging The Scorpion & the Seducer. RT is like another world for me, away from the reality of poverty and violence and rising food prices and struggling to help little girls like Nelda.

I'll be at RT, and there will be cover models and parties and friends.

In the meantime, Nelda is still in Cite Soleil, trapped by poverty, violence and the agony of hunger. When will she finally have hope?

When will Haiti finally get help?

Sigh...

Hump Day Hunk

Looks like the cover to a romance novel, huh?

Speaking of cover models, there will be plenty at the Romantic Times convention next month in Pittsburgh. RT asked me to join their blogging team to liveblog my observations/experiences from the convention.

Adrian Paul will be there. I've drooled over him ever since watching him in The Highlander. Kilts, sigh...