Did anyone get that license plate number?

Four days after signing a contract for DIVA IN THE DUGOUT, I’m still riding the high that comes with a first sale. But in the quieter moments (read: when I’m not jumping like a maniac and talking 3,000 miles a minute), I find myself wondering: What just happened here?

Yes, I’ve been working hard — writing new stuff, revising stories that still need help and, perhaps most importantly, opening myself up for rejection by putting my babies out there.

I’d also decided — not so long ago — to take the plunge into indie publishing. I signed up for a self-publishing class online. I hired a web designer and started working with a cover artist. I lined up an editor for HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS and sent OPERATION SNAG MIKE BRAD out to several readers.

Of course, I hadn’t completely given up on a more traditional path. After all, so many folks these days are doing both. Last Monday, I entered Bree and Mike’s story, OVEREXPOSED, in the Golden Pen. The goal was to get feedback to better prep the entry for GH2014. (I wasn’t satisfied with its 2013 scores, even though it landed in the top quarter. I wanted another GH final under my belt.)

But I no longer hung all my hopes on landing an agent/finaling in a contest/selling my book to a publisher. I opted to take my career into my own hands.

Funny how life works, isn’t it? My book deal found me only after I stopped looking for it.

The day after I entered the Golden Pen, I got the email from Turquoise Morning Press; on Thursday, I inked the deal. (I believe that makes me ineligible for the next Golden Heart competition. Correct me if I’m wrong, please. I hate to have wasted an entry fee.)

Did anyone get the license plate number of whatever sent me spinning in a completely different direction?

Is it simply that, as Depeche Mode says, “God has a sick sense of humor”? Or is something else at work?

They — whoever “they” are — say that love finds you when you least expect it. Does the same principle apply to book deals?

Maybe.

Dreams Dreams InsideOr maybe there’s something to visualization, to the principle of “acting as if.” That’s what these cards I found at Target the other day seem to suggest.

I also have some personal experience with visualization.

Back in late 2010/early 2011, as part of my ongoing weight-loss journey, I hooked up with a life coach. Among the things Jenn and I did was create a vision of the future me.

After chatting with me about my goals, Jenn emailed me this paragraph for me to consider:

I see a woman who is confident. She is glowing with happiness, she is vibrant. I see a woman who is fit, she is active, she enjoys the outdoors with her dogs and she practices regular yoga. She is lighter, she may even be at her goal weight! I see a woman who enjoys food. Food has lost it’s power over her. She is excited about her future as a writer. She is independent and she believes in herself. I see a woman who is a writing finalist, carrying a new MacBook. I see a woman who is a traveler. She is surrounded by people who love and support her, and she is connected with her family.

Wishes Wishes Inside

As best I could, I took our vision to heart and acted as if I’d already achieved the success I sought.

And guess what?

The fit, active yoga devotee is still mere pipe dream. Most days, I’d rather veg on the couch … or in a chair at Starbucks. The part about food losing its power over me hasn’t materialized yet, either, though I wish it would.

But the part about writing that I highlighted in purple? Spot-on.

I did become a Golden Heart finalist a few months later (and found out I’d won the Beacon on the very same day). I’ve also gotten not one but TWO new laptops since then. (Okay, the first one was reconditioned … but the current one is all mine. Never-been-owned, fresh out of the box — and I love it, even if I’ll be paying for it for a long, long time.)

While I can’t say for sure how big a role our visualization played in my success, it does make me wonder. Perhaps I should start imagining myself as a fit, active yoga lover who doesn’t let food control her.

It’s worth a shot, right?

LynnSexySaturday_button

My fourth contribution to My Sexy Saturday

LynnSexySaturday_buttonTo celebrate the sale of DIVA IN THE DUGOUT to Turquoise Morning Press, I’m digging deep for this week’s 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!

Like I said, I’m going way, way back in my archives for this septuplet — back to DIVA’s roots. That’s right: These seven paragraphs kicked off the now-deleted first chapter of the story.

After my readers/CP insisted the chapter was really a prologue (it happened five years before the main story) and painted neither hero nor heroine likable enough, I dutifully chopped the scene that I loved. I still love that scene, which has some fantastic lines … but I know how to accept criticism. After a little — okay, a lot — of whining, I deleted the whole darn thing — and blogged about it.

I may have cut the scene from the MS, but I saved it with the hope that one day I could release it as an online extra — a “wanna see how it all began?” teaser. (File name: HowItAllBegan.doc.) That day hasn’t come — yet. But I can offer a tantalizing glimpse of what almost was.

The setup (directly from my query letter):

Melinda Cline was a rash, almost 20-year-old motormouth when her high-school sweetheart dumped her weeks before their wedding. She took solace in the arms of the first hottie she had the pleasure to meet, a sexy-as-sin ballplayer whose name she insisted she didn’t want to know.

Mel meets Dave Reynolds, shortstop for the semipro Arizona Condors, at her favorite watering hole, which she snuck into with a fake ID. These seven paragraphs were the original first seven.

* * *

When Melinda’s now-ex-fiance admonished her to grow up, she doubted playing tonsil hockey with a man old enough to be her father was what he’d had in mind.

The thought jarred Mel just enough to make her end the kiss. Through lowered lashes, she regarded the man whose lap she currently warmed. Saying he was her father’s age wasn’t fair. Old enough to be her slightly older brother, maybe. But definitely not her father.

She took stock of his lithe torso. Defined biceps. Warm, easy smile. Nope. No signs of middle age marring the perfection that was —

What was his name?  Dan? Drew? Del? Dave? Why couldn’t she remember?

Who was she trying to kid? She didn’t want to remember. His name didn’t matter — not one whit. It was far more important that he was here, all too willing to distract her from the spectacle in the corner.

Her ex of just two weeks had the gall to be at her favorite bar, canoodling with a blonde who looked — well, old enough to be his mother. No wonder Bud told her to “grow up” if that was his type.

She cast a mutinous glance toward Bud’s corner. He wanted someone older than 19? She’d show him just how grown up she could be.

* * *

Hmm. Reading that now, I can see my readers’ point: Mel isn’t terribly likable here. Dave fares no better as the scene goes on. Perhaps I need to rethink releasing the deleted scene, one-liners or no.

Diva in the Dugout, coming soon from Turquoise Morning Press.

The ECall

My story about The Call

The Call, when it finally came, didn’t happen the way I expected it to. Does anyone’s?

Rather than arriving with the ring of my phone, my call happened on the click of a mouse.

I was sitting at my desk at work Tuesday night, killing time while I waited for our editor to finish with the stories I needed for the page I was laying out. “Killing time” = surfing the Net.

A new email in sat atop my Gmail inbox. The subject line, CATEGORY ROMANCE SUBMISSION — DIVA IN THE DUGOUT, didn’t faze me. Don’t ask me why I didn’t make the connection, but I didn’t. I thought it was confirmation from the Golden Pen category coordinator, since I’d just entered the GP on Monday.

Yeah. Tell me why that makes sense when I entered Bree and Mike’s story, OVEREXPOSED, in the GP’s single title category. Can you say “blonde moment”?

Then I opened the email and read this:

The ECall

And immediately commenced squee-ing. I may or may not have burst the eardrums of my two coworkers who were sharing office space with me at 7 p.m. on a Tuesday. At the very least, I got their attention. Eric asked, “What? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. Someone wants to buy my book!”

More squealing and hyperventilating (all mine) ensued before I dashed off a quick affirmative response … and received an auto reply thanking me for my submission. Eep.

Some poking around the website offered up a different email address, so I responded to THAT one, too. This time, I got a response from a real person, TMP CEO/Publisher/Owner Kim Jacobs. Kim said that email address didn’t go to the acquisitions editor, but that she’d make sure it got passed along.

You can bet I didn’t get a whole lot done for the next hour or so. Being superstitious, I didn’t want to tell just anyone the news before it was official … only everyone I saw, could text or email. 😉

I sent a text to Anne Marie Becker, who reminded me that being our chapter president was good karma. (We both sold after taking the job.) Then I texted the Boyfriend, mentioned it on a few of the loops I’m a part of and emailed my CP, Jennifer Faye, and a few other folks.

Every time, I said, “It’s not official yet, but …” before filling them in.

But I knew it wouldn’t feel real until I got another response from the acquisitions editor, Shelley Rawe. Until I heard back again, I’d worry that first email was a mistake … or that they changed their minds.

After work, I went home and tried to get some sleep. Every time I woke up, I checked the email on my phone. Nothing when I woke up to pee at 6 a.m. Ditto at 8, when the puppy woke me with his whining/crying because he got crated. At around 9, I saw the response I’d been waiting for.

Since then, we’ve exchanged a flurry of emails (none of which bounced back an auto response). I’ve submitted my other Love & Baseball story, BEAUTY AND THE BALLPLAYER, for their consideration as well.

And I received and signed the contract.

Screen Shot 2013-07-18 at 9.50.25 AM

My first contract. (I had to take a screen grab.)

May it be the first of many …

After receiving a copy of the signed contract, I hit all the social media sites: Facebook, Twitter … even Instagram (though I primarily use that account for my weight-loss blog). I also announced it here, at Chicklets in the Kitchen and my weight-loss blog. I’ve spent the hours since celebrating and basking in the congratulations that have been rolling in.

A part of me wishes I could have been at RWA Nationals. My coworkers have been great, but it’d be so much more fun to celebrate with fellow writers who really understand.

NARWA meets next week. I’ll save my party hat for them.

Wearing my SD Padres Spring Training shirt to celebrate ...

I have big news!

Wearing my SD Padres Spring Training shirt to celebrate ...
Wearing my SD Padres Spring Training shirt to celebrate …

Finally, I can shout it to the world:

Turquoise Morning Press wants to publish DIVA IN THE DUGOUT!

I’ll sit down to blog about my call story soon, but I wanted to share the news as soon as I received the signed contract. (I’m superstitious that way — didn’t want to say anything until it was official.)

Until I write the next lines, enjoy this picture of me, ecstatic about my big news.

And know that I’m going to treat myself to a big-a$$ drink at Starbucks to celebrate. It’s not every day that I sell my first novel!

I still haven’t found what I’m looking for (or weird internet searches)

superhighwayCyberspace is a funny place — both funny in the “ha-ha” sense and just plain strange.

How do I know? Take a look at some of the search terms people have used recently to get to my blog:

only fear (the mindhunters). Okay, that one’s not so strange. “Only Fear” author Anne Marie Becker and I live near each other, belong to the same RWA chapter (NARWA) and sit down to write together at least once a week. I don’t read a lot romantic suspense, preferring to stick to contemporary romantic comedy and certain historicals — but I read (and loved) Anne Marie’s debut, and blogged about it.

arlene hittle. Also not weird. I’d be more upset if my name didn’t drive folks to my site.

fotune+cookie+love+panda. Huh? Just because I wrote a post about the fortune I got from a cookie at Panda Express?

copy editors need to have a dirty mind. This is one of my favorites. It harkens back to this post about my experiences as a copy editor. Really, where else but a college newsroom would you have a five-minute discussion on how to describe the new “no parking” signs on campus? You can’t say they were “mounted.” “Erected” is also out.

What did we decide? Give me a break. You expect me to remember the resolution of a conversation that happened two decades ago?

Mr Happy story ideas. Not a recent search term, but I still crack up every time I think about this one. After I blogged about heroes who have names for that certain special part of their anatomy, someone got to my blog via that search.

Hmm. Maybe I should aim to become the author readers put on auto-buy just to see what pet name comes up next …

Over on my weight-loss blog, I blogged in February 2012 about how I asked for Reese Witherspoon’s sideswept bangs at the salon. To this day, I still get traffic related to Reese Witherspoon searches. (Top search terms include “reese witherspoon haircuts,” “reese witherspoon weight gain 2012″ and “reese side swept bangs.”)

Strange but true!

My Sexy Saturday #3

LynnSexySaturday_buttonIt’s Saturday again. You know what that means — My Sexy Saturday time. I totally forgot to take part last week … but I hope that’s the exception rather than the rule.

The idea is 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!

In honor of receiving the cover for “Blind Date Bride,” this week’s My Sexy Saturday entry is from that story.

Blind Date Bride coverA little about “Blind Date Bride”:

The last thing Kari Parker wants in her life is another man — especially one as tall as a Windy City high rise. Yet when her best friend enters her in Romance TV’s “Get a Love Life” contest, that’s what she gets. Sparks fly between Kari andher bogus groom, and as she and Damien share close quarters, intimate meals and — gulp — his bed, Kari doesn’t stand a chance of resisting his considerable charms. But building a real future out of their sham marriage will be tougher than baking a wedding cake from scratch … with no flour … in a broken oven.

The setup for these seven paragraphs: Their blind-date wedding now a bad memory, Kari and Damien have ditched the reception in favor of getting to know one another over coffee (at the nearest Starbucks, of course!). Kari’s having trouble concentrating on Damien’s words over the attraction she doesn’t want to feel for her bogus husband.

* * *

Damien’s eyebrows shot up. “You didn’t seem all that shy when you were kissing me.”

Oh, god. There was that directness again. Kari bit her lip. How could she handle a man who said exactly what he meant? “Call that an aberration.”

Damien shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

“Trust me. I don’t normally act like that.”

He leaned across the table, and for a second she thought he’d kiss her again. Her lips parted in anticipation. But he merely turned her hand over, palm up, and ran his thumb over the skin at the base of her fingers. She watched it move back and forth, fast then slow, fascinated by the friction-generated heat.

His eyes never left hers, so she saw the instant his desire flickered back to life. Her thighs grew damp as her body answered Damien’s call.

The dampness provided a rude wake-up call. Kari clamped her knees together as she jerked her hand out of his grasp, ruthlessly reminding herself how badly her last run-in with lust at first sight had ended.

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

Check out the other entries in the My Sexy Saturday blog hop here.

The big cover reveal

Anyone who likes my author page on Facebook has already seen the news … several times. I’ve also been showing everyone at the office — and the baristas at my regular Starbucks. Pretty  much anyone I can get to look at my phone is seeing my beautiful new cover.

To say I’m pleased is an understatement. “Pleased as punch” is, of course, a dreaded cliche — something the lovely Susan Haught keeps warning me I use too many of. She’s one of my NARWA chaptermates, and quite possibly my biggest fan. But she’s not afraid to point out where my WIPs need more W-O-R-K.

Anyway … back to the story of how I ended up with covers for two manuscripts that are NOT the one I plan to release first.

It all started last month, when I asked about cover artists — and the timing of cover purchases — on the Indie Romance Ink Yahoo loop.

Rogenna Brewer was one of many friendly, helpful folks who responded. She said that she was designing covers, and linked to her page of premade covers. That’s where I saw her. Bride.

Screen Shot 2013-07-11 at 1.19.53 PM

“If she were blonde,” I thought, “she’d make a great Kari.”

Kari is the heroine in “Blind Date Bride,” the tale of a guy and gal whose friends enter them in a cable TV network’s “Get a Love Life” contest in hopes of them winning lesser prizes. But when a panel of experts deems them to have the worst love lives in America, they win the grand prize — a blind date wedding.

So I emailed Rogenna to ask if there was any way to make the bride in her “Bride” cover a blonde. We started exchanging emails about “Blind Date Bride” and its sequel, “Trouble in Paradise.” Since the stories are related, I wanted covers that looked like they belonged together. The next thing I knew, I’d agreed to a deal — buy one custom-made cover, get one free.

The results:

Blind Date Bride cover Trouble in Paradise cover

I couldn’t be happier.

The photo Rogenna found for “Blind Date Bride” hints at so much — my hero, Damien, is a veterinarian, so the puppy is a fantastic touch. And obviously, this photo would have been taken toward the HEA end of the story.

The photo for “Paradise” is actually from Bora Bora, the island Beth and Cody visit to film the reality show that may kill the perfectly healthy relationship that Beth thought was headed south.

(Oops — cliche alert! Luckily, I’m pretty sure I never use that phrasing anywhere in the manuscript.)

Now that I have gorgeous covers, I have a lot of work to do. The first draft for “Paradise” hasn’t even been completely written yet — I have about 20K to go. This is the story that got decimated in the Golden Pen a couple of years ago. Judges hated my heroine. Said they had no idea why the hero was with her … Obviously, I have some rewriting to do.

And I will. But first, I need to polish “Home for the Holidays,” the novella I plan to release this November.

Rogenna’s already got some great ideas for that cover, too. Through the end of July, she’s running a deal for cover design clients: Buy 2, get one free. Check it out.

 

My Sexy Saturday, Part Deux

It’s Saturday — and you know what that means. That’s right. Time for another visit to Sizzletown in the My Sexy Saturday blog hop.

My entry this week is again from “Home for the Holidays,” the novella I’ll be releasing this fall. The setup: Cher and Derrick have recently escaped the crowd that gathered when someone recognized Cher in Chicago. They’ve stopped for Chicago dogs at a dive in Jeffriesburg, Ind., on the way back to Langley.

“I hate to tell you this, your diva-ness, but that hat-and-sunglasses disguise doesn’t render you invisible.”

Her giggle filled the space in the car with warmth and bright light. “Just incognito.”

“If you say so.”

“I do.” With that, Cher pushed open the car door and exited the vehicle.

Enjoying how her jeans hugged her curves, Derrick remained seated. He watched her sweet backside until she turned and stuck her head back in the car.

“What are you waiting for?” She raised her sunglasses to look at him, no doubt so he couldn’t miss her narrowed eyes.

“Nothing.” Oh, how he loved Cher’s quick temper. Smiling to himself, Derrick shook off the reverie and followed her into the restaurant.

Coming to ebookstores near you in November 2013.

 

Pardon the mess

Okay, it may not be the left lane that’s closed — but my corner of the information superhighway is under construction.

In preparation for my indie publishing debut, my website is undergoing a complete redesign. Please bear with me while Larissa from dot.Dalton works her magic.

When she’s done, it’ll be a much nicer place.

My first My Sexy Saturday

Have you heard about the My Sexy Saturday blog hop? I just did, and it sounded like so much fun I decided to jump right in.

The rules:

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!

For my first stab at My Sexy Saturday, I thought I’d treat you to an excerpt from “Home for the Holidays,” a Christmas novella set in small-town Langley, Indiana, in my former neck of the woods.

When singing sensation Cheryl Stanton finds herself back in Langley — against her will — for some much-needed R&R, she runs into old friend Derrick Mullins. Derrick was the one guy she wanted to date in high school — and the only one who was immune to her charms … or so she thought.

In this scene, Derrick, now a paramedic, has come to the scene of the accident that resulted when Cher’s mother swerved to avoid a cow standing in the road. (I mentioned this was small-town Indiana, right?) His mind on business, he doesn’t recognize Cher right away — a fact that peeves her to no end, even though she is in disguise.

Here’s the excerpt:

His eyebrows shot skyward. “After ten years? I don’t think so. A lot’s changed since then.”

“Well, excuse me for not peaking in high school.”

A spark lit Derrick’s smoldering gray eyes. “Sweetheart, you can trust me when I say I’ve improved with age.”

That look set fire to her very soul, offsetting the chill in the crisp November air. To distract herself from the flash of desire, she lowered her lids and tapped her inner smart-aleck. “You think so, huh? You’re not wine or cheese.”

That was a line of crap and she knew it. Even in the watery gray early-morning light, he looked just as good now as he had in high school — better, even, if she took into account the broader shoulders and more masculine presence.

He knew it, too, judging by his sly grin. Damn the man. Why couldn’t he have developed a paunch … or, better yet, started balding?

A low, sexy laugh rumbled from deep in his throat. “Wine and cheese aren’t the only things that get better with age, Cher.”

Coming to ebookstores near you in November 2013.

Don’t forget to check out the other participants’ posts.