BizCardBackBorge

The power of laughter

The power of love is a curious thing.

Make a one man weep, make another man sing …

— Huey Lewis and the News, “The Power of Love”

Like my man Huey, I believe in the power of love. That particular song was in the movie “Back to the Future,” but I remember being in the sixth grade and listening to Sports on cassette tape … on an endless loop. “I Want a New Drug,” “The Heart of Rock N Roll,” “If This Is It,” “Walking on a Thin Line,” “Bad is Bad” … They all bring back memories.

Thanks to YouTube, I just spent a good 15 minutes strolling down memory lane. Huey sure was good-looking, in that overconfident ’80s rock star kinda way.

Ahem. You might say I learned a lot about love from that album. Or not. I wouldn’t have a chance to put any of that knowledge into practice for years.

The power of love is strong. But the power of laughter is just as important. It lifts your mood, helps relieve stress and might even help you heal. Some experts say “laughter is the best medicine.”

Put love and laughter together and you have a combo that will win every time.

BizCardBackBorgeIt’s why I write stories with characters who don’t take themselves — or life — all that seriously. Sharing a laugh can bring couples closer together, help them smooth over differences, diffuse tension and put things in perspective. (I’m not the only one who feels that way: This article I’ve bookmarked for future reference talks at length about fixing relationship problems with humor.)

Many famous folks have said great things about laughter. I borrowed these from a list of laughter quotes compiled on Goodreads. They spoke to me — so much that I hope to put them on the backs of my next business cards.

“I don’t trust anyone who doesn’t laugh.”

— Maya Angelou

“The human race has only one really effective weapon and that is laughter.”

― Mark Twain

“I’d rather laugh with the sinners than cry with the saints.”

― Billy Joel

“Always laugh when you can, it is cheap medicine.”

― George Gordon, Lord Byron

“Laughter is the shortest distance between two people.”

― Victor Borge

“You don’t stop laughing because you grow old. You grow old because you stop laughing.”

― Michael Pritchard

“A day without laughter is a day wasted.”

― Charlie Chaplin

I just need to decide which look I should go with:

BizCardBackAngelouBizCardBackJoel BizCardBackByronBizCardBackChaplinDo you like the colored background or white? If I use the colored one, should I go with the top-bottom gradient (like in the turquoise card) or the left-right (like in the blue)?

I’m leaning toward the white background. It’s clean, simple and matches the logo.

I think I like the embossed look of the top two, though, with the words that appear to be jumping off the page.

Like I said on Facebook, I know just enough about Photoshop to be dangerous. I can do basic designs, but anything elaborate like a book cover or web design is better left to experts like Rogenna and Larissa.

So hard to make up my mind. Do you have a preference? Weigh in in the comments, please.

LynnSexySaturday_button

My Sexy Saturday: Blind Date Bride

LynnSexySaturday_buttonYou know what day it is, right? Saturday! That means it’s time for another entry in the My Sexy Saturday blog hop.

The rules are simple:

Post 7 paragraphs or 7 sentences or 7 words. The choice is yours. It can be from a WIP or something you already have published. Your post should be live by 9 am US Pacific Time on Saturday. Put those lucky 7s to work for you!

Blind Date Bride coverThis week, I thought I’d give you another peek at Kari and Damien from “Blind Date Bride.” I’m breaking the rules by serving up a couple of extra paragraphs — but since some of my lines are one or two words long, I think y’all can roll with it.

Kari and Damien, strangers who were married after becoming the lucky winners of a blind date wedding, have just agreed to allow cameras to film them for a “Newlyweds” type of show over the course of their network-mandated 90-day “cohabitation period.”

Kari agreed because the network offered them extra cash, but only hours later — when it’s time for bed — does she realize what the decision means for their sleeping arrangements. Her new roommate is now also a bedmate. With the camera crews around 24/7, they’d actually have to sleep in the same room — so she can no longer bank on coasting through the next 88 days or so by avoiding her unwanted husband.

***

Kari plumped her newly acquired pillow, stretched out on her back and stared up at the ceiling. The ceiling fan whirred lazily, making only a few slow circles before Kari was convinced that no one would be spending the night on Damien’s floor. The hardwood floor wasn’t just rock-hard; it was also freezing cold. Kari didn’t know how that was possible when it was in the low 80s outside, but if she didn’t climb into Damien’s bed soon, her boxer-clad butt was going to end up with a severe case of frostbite.

Her gaze flitted from the ceiling to the bed, where Damien still sat, watching her intently.

“Stop looking at me like that!” she snapped.

“Like what?”

“Like you’re on a diet and I’m a hot fudge sundae!”

Damien rolled his eyes. “You think you’re that irresistible, huh?”

“Well —” Kari began. More concerned with her own response to the look he was giving her, she hadn’t thought about how conceited the complaint would make her sound.

“Because I have news for you, sweetheart. I can resist — no problem.”

Kari stood up and sat on the edge of Damien’s bed opposite him, but not before scowling at him. “You don’t have to be such a jerk about it.”

He glowered right back. “Why shouldn’t I be? You’re basically saying you don’t trust me to keep my hands to myself, right?”

“Uh —”

“Because I’ve never had to force my attentions on an unwilling woman before, and I don’t intend to start anytime soon. So until you decide you want my hands on you, you have nothing to worry about.”

“Blind Date Bride” coming to e-bookstores everywhere in Spring 2014.

My Sexy Saturday: Meet Mike James (again)

LynnSexySaturday_buttonIt’s Saturday again — and this week, I don’t feel like I’ve been dragged through a tar pit and then forced to go to prom without changing. My head is only mildly stuffy, not filled with snot, and I’m ready to rejoin the land of the living.

That means I’m back for the My Sexy Saturday blog hop. The rules are simple:

Post 7 paragraphs or 7 sentences or 7 words. The choice is yours. It can be from a WIP or something you already have published. Your post should be live by 9 am US Pacific Time on Saturday. Put those lucky 7s to work for you!

This week, I’m bringing you another booty-licious scene with my favorite hero, Mike James.

Aww, who am I kidding? I love all my heroes. That said, I’ll always have a big, squishy soft spot in my heart for Mike. He’s the first guy character I created, although it was quickly apparent he would NOT be Erin’s hero. Not Mike. He wasn’t right for Erin, no matter how much she wanted him to be. Persisted in thinking of her like the kid sister he never had. I realized he needed his own story, the happy ending he didn’t believe he deserved.

And I proceeded to write him one. In OVEREXPOSED, faux bad-boy Mike gets his happily-ever-after, with the ultimate good girl — a 24-year-old virgin.

In this scene, he’s about to relieve her of that condition. They’re at a bar, across the street from the no-tell motel room they’re being forced to share by a snowstorm. They’ve both had a bit too much to drink, and Bree is putting the moves on him (for what she believes at the time to be an excellent reason). Mike is trying desperately to resist her.

***

If I’m lucky, I’ll get drunk enough to pass out before I can do something we’ll both regret.

But as the minutes ticked by, and Breanne responded to every evasion by trying even harder, it became increasingly clear to Mike that resisting her advances wouldn’t be easy. She obviously wanted him — and had for quite a while, if the hints she’d been dropping were to be believed. He desperately hoped her comments weren’t the ravings of a drunken lunatic, because he wanted her, too. He sure as hell didn’t deserve her, but he wanted her just the same. And if she felt the same way, there was nothing to stop them from fulfilling their mutual desire.

Nothing except your innate sense of decency.

And there it was: the elephant squatting on the barroom table. If he did take up with Bree now, he’d become the bad-boy playboy he was pretending to be to hold her, and every decent woman like her, at bay.

He’d never be able to live with himself then. Hell, he barely tolerated himself now.

Time to end this flirtation before it spiraled even farther out of control. Surely she’d balk if he flat-out propositioned her.

“It’s late, Red,” he said, scraping his knuckles over her denim-clad thigh. He stroked her thigh, getting dangerously close to the part of her that he ached to fill. “What do you say we get out of here and find something better to do with our time?”

Instead of pulling away, she practically purred and arched into his hand. “What’d you have in mind?”

My Sexy Saturday — Meet Beth & Cody

LynnSexySaturday_buttonIt’s Saturday, and you know what that means: Time for another sizzling trip down desire lane with the My Sexy Saturday blog hop.

The rules are simple:

Post 7 paragraphs or 7 sentences or 7 words. The choice is yours. It can be from a WIP or something you already have published. Your post should be live by 9 am US Pacific Time on Saturday. Put those lucky 7s to work for you!

Today, I’m sharing something a little different. This excerpt is from TROUBLE IN PARADISE, the WIP I’m having trouble finishing at the moment. It’s not the sexiest moment in my manuscript, but it cracks me up every time — and I feel the need to laugh this week.

Bethany and Cody, the heroine and hero in said WIP, might be giving me fits, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love them both.

You might remember Beth and Cody as the best friends from BLIND DATE BRIDE — the ones that got more wedding-night action than the bride and groom.Trouble in Paradise coverTROUBLE IN PARADISE picks up nine months after BRIDE leaves off. Bethany, worried Cody might be losing interest, wants him to apply for another Romance TV show, “Invitation to Sin.” Cody is firmly anti-reality-TV after seeing what his buddy went through, but agrees to apply because he figures they won’t get picked for the show — no way will Romance TV lightning strike their circle twice.

Except it does, and soon Beth and Cody find themselves on Bora Bora with a TV production crew and a pack of other contestants, fighting to not only win the grand prize but hold together their previously solid relationship.

In this scene, Beth and Cody have gathered with the other contestants at Romance TV HQ for a meet-and-greet reception.

***

Cody munched on pineapple and mango chunks and sipped the punch. He hoped there wasn’t any alcohol in it, because it tasted vaguely pina colada-ish. Then again, he didn’t have to drive, so what was he worried about? He took another gulp. Beside him, Bethany sipped her drink, too. Suddenly, she spit it back into her cup and started coughing.

He put his drink down. “You okay, sweetheart?”

Clearly not okay, she shook her head. Her face was redder than the cherry on top of the chocolate and whipped cream cookie he’d picked up for her. When she stopped coughing, she whispered, “Did you get a good look at the ice cubes?”

“No.”

“Why don’t you do that?”

Puzzled, he picked up his glass again and studied the ice — cubes shaped like penises and breasts. Come to think of it, that cherry-topped cookie looked like a boob, too.

He looked back at the table of refreshments, seeing it for the first time for the work of “art” it was undoubtedly intended to be. Things were arranged to resemble … well, hell. The spread looked just like a woman’s spread legs, with the cookies in the center, spilling sweetness into the vast, empty middle.

“Trouble in Paradise,” coming in Fall 2014.

Cover reveal: Home for the Holidays

If you know me on Facebook at all, you’ve probably seen it already — but I’d be a Bad Author if I didn’t post an official cover reveal here on the blog.

So here it is: the cover for HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS.

Cover artist Rogenna Brewer did another beautiful job! And Ruby Slippered Sister Kelly Fitzpatrick gets props for suggesting the tagline. I was on vacation last week, but taking the task of coming up with one way too seriously — until Kelly came up with that gem.

This cover wasn’t quite as simple to choose as the ones for BRIDE and PARADISE, though. Right before Rogenna sent me her initial idea, I’d just read a piece of advice: Don’t sign off on a cover until you get at least 5 people to say they love it.

With her permission, I posted the cover on my Facebook author page (and a few other places) and asked for opinions. I did get quite a few “love its.” Then Rogenna sent me a different take. It, too, went up for input — and got some definite love.

Unable to decide which one I liked best, I made a side-by-side comparison of the two covers and solicited votes.

two cover concepts

Right up until I decided to go with the pink background — mainly for the pop of color, reasoning that it’ll stand out more in thumbnail view — the vote was dead even. A couple of extra votes for Cover B (on the right) showed up on the thread AFTER I told Rogenna to go with the pink.

I’m still happy with the decision. With so many votes for both, I think either cover will be a winner.

HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS, a 30,000 word novella, is my first indie release, slated for mid-November — just in time for, well, the holidays.

 

August is National Read-A-Romance Month

reader-badge-2-pinkI was a reader of romances long before I started writing them.

I remember plowing through the stacks of Harlequin and Silhouette books Mom would bring home from the library, secured with a rubber band. (Apparently, the library thought bundles were more appealing.) My couch potato self spent many a lazy Saturday devouring two or three category-length titles in one sitting.

As I got older, the romance reading continued. With each book I finished, so did the conviction that I needed to be writing romance. I’d close a book and think, “I could write that. I could write something better than that.”

Ah, the overconfidence of the uneducated. Turns out that writing one — a good one, at least — is much harder than it looked.

But once I started trying, I never looked back. I moved from Indiana to Arizona in 1999, and in 2001 won a radio station’s “dinner with a romance writer” contest. That’s when I met Rita Rainville, then a member of  NARWA. I started attending the group’s meetings, joined RWA and discovered just how much I had to learn about writing romance.

Finally, in 2011, I snagged the coveted title of Golden Heart finalist … a sure sign I was mastering the craft. I was on the verge of the big payoff — publication. Still, it eluded me until this year.

Nowadays, it seems that I spend most of my free time writing romance instead of reading it. Whenever I get a few minutes not consumed by the dreaded day job, I feel the need to devote it to writing.

But August is National Read-A-Romance Month, not Write-A-Romance Month. That begs the question: “Why do I read romance?”

When I started reading them in middle school, I most likely read as a way to pass time. There’s not much to do in rural Indiana. I’m sure I also read for the sex ed. So much more fun — and informative — than health class. (Am I the only one who wondered what the guys were learning when they were sent to another room while we girls watched the same damn menstruation movie three years running?)

Of course, I could have passed time reading any kind of book. And did. I read a lot of Stephen King as a high school freshman. Then, my sophomore year, I discovered Anne Rice and devoured everything of hers I could get my hands on.

Still, I kept going back to romance. Those are the stories that draw me in and leave me satisfied. I’m not happy unless the characters get the ending they deserve. That’s one thing that drove me crazy when I read Gone Girl. The book was a real page-turner, but no one got what was coming to them in that book. (Link takes you to my weight-loss blog.)

Romance offers that happy ending. It allows the characters the happily-ever-after ending they need. I’d much rather see folks I’ve come to know and love get what they deserve.

Kristan Higgins, one of my favorite writers, put it much more succinctly in her post Monday. We read romance for the hope.

Most people in life don’t transform, don’t have a clearly delineated character arc that blossoms in the space of a few weeks or months as the outer goal is accomplished. That’s what makes a romance novel so gratifying, and uplifting…and hopeful. They did it. They’re our role models, and it doesn’t matter if they’re fictional, so long as they walk the walk of someone who was stuck, and afraid to try something different, and risked it all for love…and triumphed.

Do yourself a favor and read her entire post. It’s excellent — and just another reason to love Kristan.

I still remember the few minutes we chatted in the elevator at RWA Nationals in NYC in 2011. Me, a nervous first-time conference attendee, wearing my GH finalist ribbon and completely overwhelmed by the whole experience. Her, lovely and gracious and …

Okay, I mostly remember that we were staying on the same floor. I told her I loved her books. We commiserated over how the experts said rom-com is dead and declared we actually wrote funny contemporary romance … or something like that.

Long live the funny contemporary! And long live romance. May it continue to offer everything readers need.

My Sexy Saturday with Mike James

LynnSexySaturday_buttonIt’s my favorite time of the week again: Time to share an excerpt for the My Sexy Saturday blog hop.

The rules, in case you’ve forgotten:

Post 7 paragraphs or 7 sentences or 7 words. The choice is yours. It can be from a WIP or something you already have published. Your post should be live by 9 am US Pacific Time on Saturday. Put those lucky 7s to work for you!

This week, I’m giving you seven paragraphs from the beginning of  OVEREXPOSED, the third book in my Women of Willow’s Grove collection. This time, Mike James, the object of Erin’s lust at the start of OPERATION SNAG MIKE BRAD (Book 1), finally gets the happy ending he doesn’t believe he deserves.

Before he gets there, though, he has to go through a whole lot more torture and self-flagellation.

I’ve always liked Mike. He’s pure figment of my imagination — but that’s not to say my imagination wasn’t sparked by a coworker. The guy was Greek-god-gorgeous, like Mike. Flirty and funny, too (also like Mike). Anything Mike does (or did … or didn’t do) is all on me, though.

In this scene, heroine Breanne Garvey (photographer for the Willow’s Grove Journal-Times), is at the tiny town’s male strip joint for her roommate’s bachelorette bash. She doesn’t yet know that Mike, her coworker at the paper, moonlights there.

How much you want to bet she’s about to find out? 😉

***

This “Masked Avenger” reminded her of Mike: Tall, blond and — behind his black Lone Ranger-type mask — chock-full of cuteness potential. The man had well-defined thighs, and when he turned around to shake his rear end in her face, she could see that it, too, was in perfect shape. And every inch of exposed skin was a nice, even golden color — the color of smooth clover honey.

Just like Mike’s tan.

Suddenly the idea of flirting with this guy didn’t seem nearly as far-fetched. She was only a virgin, not dead — and having Mike James dance for her was full of potential. Intriguing possibilities blossomed in her fertile brain … ideas a good girl would never act on.

No harm in looking, her inner rebel assured her.

For once, she listened. After all, it was likely the only chance she’d ever have to see Mike in the flesh. If he hadn’t picked up on the “let’s date” vibes she’d been sending him for the last year and a half, she doubted he ever would — although she’d never understand how a guy who loved women could be so darned oblivious to her hints.

Pretending it was her colleague in front of her, she dropped her hands so she could enjoy the view. She even went so far as to accept the bill Cassie waved under her nose. Why not have some fun? Cassie was right: She wasn’t getting any younger.

But where do I put it?

DIVA has a release date

When I decided I wanted to join the ranks of indie publishing last spring, my initial plan was to release my first book, OPERATION SNAG MIKE BRAD, around my birthday in October. I thought having a book out by my 42nd birthday sounded like an excellent idea.

Plans changed, and I decided to test the publishing waters with a holiday novella, out in November, instead.

Then I sold DIVA IN THE DUGOUT to Turquoise Morning Press. Today, I got word that they’ve set DIVA for release the week of Oct. 15 — just a week after my birthday (Oct. 7).

Turns out I’ll have a birthday book after all.

The universe really does have a sense of humor, doesn’t it?

On another note, it’s all happening so quickly! With final edits due Sept. 1, I’m going to be hard at work in August.

Another My Sexy Saturday

LynnSexySaturday_buttonWelcome back to another My Sexy Saturday. I’ve really been having fun with this blog hop, and I hope you are, too.

The rules are simple:

Post 7 paragraphs or 7 sentences or 7 words. The choice is yours. It can be from a WIP or something you already have published. Your post should be live by 9 am US Pacific Time on Saturday. Put those lucky 7s to work for you!

Last Saturday, I shared a deleted scene from “Diva in the Dugout,” the book I just sold to Turquoise Morning Press. I signed the contract last Thursday. It’s my first sale. I was — and still am — very excited.

But this week, I’m going back to my holiday novella, “Home for the Holidays.” Here, Cher and Derrick just arrived at an Italian restaurant for dinner. This is the evening of the day they met up again at the accident scene.

I normally go the seven paragraph route, but this week I picked just seven sentences. I think they’re good ones. I hope you agree.

***

When they were seated at DeLuca’s, Cher dove into the basket of garlic bread with the enthusiasm Derrick usually saved for more carnal pursuits. Come to think of it, her moan of pleasure as she licked the butter from her fingers reminded him of a woman enjoying herself in bed. When her eyes rolled back in her head and she moaned again, Derrick squirmed in his chair.

He tried cooling himself off with a sip of water. “You really love that bread, don’t you?”

“Yeah.” She savored another bite before leaning across the table to whisper, “Sometimes, I dream about it.”

“Home for the Holidays,” coming to e-bookstores near you in November 2013.

Doing it without falling on my face

You’ve probably heard the saying “Drummers do it with rhythm” — or some variation thereof. A quick search of Google revealed “Geologists do it in the dirt,” “Writers do it until their hands cramp” T-shirts and other products emblazoned with “Ham radio operators do it with frequency” and “editors do it with style.”

I’d like to add one to the list: Romance writers do it in fabulous shoes.

I didn’t go to RWA Nationals last week, but I saw plenty of pictures — and great shoes figured in many of them. Bestselling author Cherry Adair and Fellow Starcatcher (the 2011 Golden Heart class) Kimberly Kincaid are known for fabulous footwear. And just ask any of the Rubies about their shoe collections.

Naturally, when I prepped to have my official author photo taken this week, I had to dig out my own pair.

Gorgeous, right? The Boyfriend sure likes them … even if they make me taller than him.

Problem is, I can’t walk in the darn things.

I’m tall — 5 feet, 10 inches — so in heels I top 6 feet. And I’ve never liked being taller than all the girls and most guys in a room.

Consequently, I’ve never bothered to learn how to walk in high heels. I live in sneakers and flats.

It’s not that I don’t love pretty shoes, because I do. I have countless pairs of sandals and boots in my closet, in pretty  much every color of the rainbow.

And I can drool over Manolos with the best shoe horses in the stable … although I doubt I’d ever drop that much cash on anything that didn’t come with an electrical cord. Gadgets are allowed to cost most of a paycheck, not shoes.

On the rare occasions I do wear heels, my ankles wobble like a kid playing dress-up with Grandma’s clothes. Worse, I live in constant fear of falling flat on my face, breaking an ankle and/or exposing my underwear to the world.

Thank goodness none of those misfortunes befell me Tuesday. Maybe that’s because I actually wore flip-flops to our photo spot, then changed into the pumps when it came time to take the pictures. When we traipsed across the parking lot to a different location, on went the flip-flops again.

Now that I’m on the verge of — cough — romance superstardom, I probably ought to start practicing walking in sky-high heels. (Save the cards and letters. I know selling one manuscript does not a superstar make … but a girl can dream.)

My feet in their natural habitat. High heels need not apply.
My feet in their natural habitat. High heels need not apply.

Or maybe I can start a new trend. I hear Bedazzled flip-flops are all the rage … somewhere. Out there. At least in the unexplored corners of my mind.

Who’s with me?

Vive la comfy footwear revolution!