It's the Time of Year for Lists!

Yesterday, out of nowhere, Anna started talking about what she would look for in a potential boyfriend.

So I asked her to write it down. 

"What a boy has to be lie to date me."  By Anna

1. Smart
2. Hamsome (I had to keep that typo!)
3. No colored hair, like purple.
4. Not a Smart Alec.
5. Not a Dumbo.

I mean it!
(Anna w/Megan a member of the Homecoming Court)

Norse Jewel Author Gina Conkle Guest Post , Inside the Writers Home Office.

What a great summer for new books! And affordable ones at that!  Today I am super excited to have Gina Conkle author of Norse Jewel  guest posting today!

I was drawn to reading her new novel Norse Jewel for one simple reason. I like reading about the Viking getting the girl.

 Norse Jewel did not disappoint me. I was quickly drawn into the tale of Helena,  a Frankish (French) thrall (slave) and her unshakable desire to return to her homeland after being abducted by Danes.  Gina does a wonderful job of balancing historical accuracy with the sensibilities of current day readers. Not often do we have a romance, especially a historical romance that includes a single father. Having Hakan the Viking as a single dad trying to get custody of his son in the first millennium isn't standard romance fare, but I loved it.

Once you read Norse Jewel, I am sure you will be as pleased as me to learn that a follow up book is coming! Click the Picture to enter the blog tour giveaway!

Please read on as we enter Gina's home office for a tour of her work space.

Thanks for this opportunity to be here today. 

The requested topic, “My workspace and how do I feed my creativity?” grabbed me. I took a picture of my desk on Norse Jewel’s release day.  A lot of emotions…maybe reflected in the miasma of post-it notes on my desk!
 

Because our house is small, everything’s contained within my desk and a narrow bookcase beside it.

But, inspiration?

That comes from your head, your heart, your soul.  Feed those parts and you can work anywhere, even a cramped desk.

I wish I had a Zen-ish work space…like super-blogger Leo Babauta.

But it’s not. I’m not.

So, how do you build your dreams?
 

1.      “…walk into a large white room.”

Those words open chapter one of choreographer, Twyla Tharp’s book The Creative Habit.  She went to that plain room at the same time for years, decades even, creating moves that played on stages worldwide.

 Does the white room feel familiar? Like a plain canvas? Or a blank computer screen?

The lesson learned? Find your groove.  Make that a habit, and you’ll feed your muse. Your routine becomes that time that two of you sit down and get to work. 

 

Call it the Law of Propinquity.  Your muse will be a great friend if you rub shoulders with her on a continuous basis. 

 And you will be alone with your muse --- a lot.

2.      “Quietness without loneliness.”

If ideas are fishes, then solitude is the bait that lures them to the surface.

Try this.  Sit somewhere quietly.  But, don’t empty your mind.  You want your thoughts to wander where they will.  Give them a little breathing room.

See if you can do this for a few minutes.  If you reach ten minutes, then the next time expand to fifteen or twenty minutes.

We don’t allow ourselves much time to simply be…to think or wonder.

Oh, and that phrase? It’s a Gaelic phrase for that state of mind that feeds creativity.

3.      Keep a “Lifesaver List.”

The first two items I learned from Twyla Tharp.  This last lesson came the hard way: by burnout.

If your creativity is a bank account, consistent deposits balance continuous withdrawals.  You can’t take, take, take without some give in return.

So, what do you do? Keep a list of things that “fill” you up.  Learn to recognize the signs when you’re close to empty.

Here’s a few things on my “happy” list:

*Alone time with a book

*Pedicure

*Go to a bookstore

*Bubble bath

Now, why not share a few things that fill you up?

Before I go, thank you, Victoria, for hosting me and thank you to your readers for sharing part of your day with me.  I welcome you to connect with me:

On my website: http://ginaconkle.com/

On twitter: https://twitter.com/ginaconkle

On Facebook: http://on.fb.me/180kL1y

On Pinterest: http://bit.ly/180l9gu

 

 

Nice start to a new Vampire Series!

I'm pleased to share a book recommendation  for a new paranormal romance series from Entangled Publishing. Read on as I share my review of  Undying Destiny by new author Jessica Lee.

I was excited to learn that one of her inspirations is Karen Marie Moning! This book draws from the tradition of Urban Fantasy of Karen Marie Moning as well as JR Ward and Ilona Andrews.

In Undying Destiny we met Emily, a third -shift working nurse who has a real loser of an ex-finance stalking her. One night she sees a mortally wounded man in the street. Her professional instincts kick in and she attends to this stranger. Within hours her life is changed forever by Kenric St James, a Vampire who spends his nights keeps humans safe from the scourge of DEAD (Death Euphoria ADdicted ) Vampires.

Jessica Lee does a solid job of world building. I really enjoyed the DEAD concept, and the role of Kenric and his Enclave. The focus was kept on our couple but we are given the seeds of stories to come featuring other members of the Enclave.

Undying Destiny introduces us to a very rich "big bad" that I know we will meet again.  Jessica also includes a stunning betrayal and an excellent suprise in the relationship of Emily and Kenric. 

Emily comes into her own in this story, but it's not a far journey. I like that  she is strong and gets stronger as the story progresses. I look forward to Jessica's next Enclave installment! 

Here is a short excerpt from the book as well links to orders and a Giveaway!!

Undying Destiny by Jessica Lee

 

Entangled Publishing - June 2013

 

 

Kenric St. James is out for revenge. Over 300 years ago, an ancient female vampire turned him against his will and killed the woman he loved. He’s spent more than a century building an Enclave of warrior vampires who have sworn to defend humanity against his evil sire and her minions. But when Kenric finds a woman he finally burns to claim as his own again, Kenric knows loving her means giving his sire another target.

 

Emily Ross just wanted a fresh start. She’s a survivor, coming off the tail end of an abusive relationship, and craves time alone to learn who she is and to save the home that holds her heart. The last thing she needed was a controlling, alpha male calling all the shots.

 

Meeting Kenric might just have changed her mind, though. He is wrong for her in all the right ways. But in order to keep her heart from breaking, he first has to keep the hoards of evil vamps from stealing her very breath.

 

Title: Undying Destiny

Author: Jessica Lee

Genre: Paranormal Romance

Release Date: June 2013

Imprint: Edge

 

Purchase from Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Undying-Destiny-Enclave-Entangled-ebook/dp/B00CK55RJ2/ref=wl_it_dp_o_pd_nS_nC?ie=UTF8&colid=36TOXN5A9DZUF&coliid=I1T3598Q45ETJ6

 

Purchase from Barnes & Noble:http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/undying-destiny-jessica-lee/1115290509?ean=9781622660988

 

Author Information

 

 

Almost every author's bio states they've been writing since they learned how to read. It's what they've always wanted to do. Well, my journey wasn't so straight and narrow. I was a nurse for over twenty years and hold a bachelor's degree in science with a major in biology. So as you can see, my career path had originally gone in the opposite direction. I didn't discover my passion for the craft until after I'd had my son and decided to work part-time.

I've always loved to read but had never read a paranormal romance. Then one night at work on break, I began reading Karen Marie Moning's Spell of the Highlander. I couldn't believe what I'd been missing, and I immediately fell in love with the genre.

I wanted to write like that. I wanted to create worlds where others could find the same escape and fascination I did when I read my first sensual paranormal romance.

And I hope that's what I've accomplished in my work. Please dive in, hold on tight, and enjoy the adventure. Just be careful in the dark—you might find more than you expected waiting for you there.

Jessica Lee lives in the southeastern United States with her husband and son. She loves writing and can't wait for that quiet time each day when her son is in school, and she can get lost in another place and world with the fantastical, sexy creatures in her head.

She's a member of Romance Writers of America Carolina Romance Writers.

Author Website:http://www.jessicaleenovels.com/index.html

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/jessicaleenovels

Twitter: https://twitter.com/jessleenovels

Goodreads:http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/3013591.Jessica_Lee

http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/share-code/MWNiNTU0OTUyMGNlZDFiOGJmOTc5ZmExZmRmZDJmOjg3/

Retro 80s Summer Bonding with Anna

Mmm Soapy goodness. Remember when everyone watched Soap Operas? As a youngster, I spent many a summer afternoon with Days of Our Lives, Another World and General Hospital. How could I not?  Look at handsome Uncle Jessie before he was Uncle Jessie.

Plus, though it is hard to believe, back then, there was no Teen Nick or a Disney Franchise built around cute teenage boys and girls. So what was a kid to do?  Oh don't worry I spent plenty of time running around outside playing with friends and riding my bike.  I still found time to watch the Soaps, and all without a DVR.

So here we are,  it's now the 50th Anniversary of General Hospital.  I haven't watch the show in perhaps two decades; but, Anna and I like to watch The Chew a few days a week, and one day we were sitting there after it was over and we got sucked in to General Hospital. Some of the characters have changed, but there are many actors and actresses still hanging in there from when I was a wee lass.

Pretty remarkable to have such a long running gig in the mercurial world of television.  50 years in, the show is still providing summer bonding for moms and daughters.

Anna  is still freaked out that Uncle Jessie was on a Soap Opera.

****************
Awesome Recipe from The Chew website just click the picture to be taken to the recipe which is actually a lightened up Chicken Saltimbocca!

#wordless Wednesday

Waiting For Sunday! True Blood is Back!

Ready for Beach Reads? Grab "The Goddess" by Robyn Grady

Finally Summer is here, and that means the time is ripe for spending an afternoon in the sun with a good summer read.  The Goddess by Robyn Grady from Entangled Publishing is a perfect book to lose yourself in on a sunny afternoon.  Robyn give us a plucky American girl with an adventurous spirit named Helene who happens to meet a Prince on a beautiful Greek Isle. Throw in some well-rounded secondary characters and a bit of magic courtesy of an ancient statue and you have an engaging read. 

I great enjoyed both Helene and Darius, they weren't fools in love, they were adults who considered the consequences of their actions.  Darius is a Prince in the modern world on a small island and has centuries of tradition to consider and Helene is an outsider.  It was fun to watch them experience each other and to open up to love. 

Robyn Grady adds a story within the story, which at first I was not a fan of, but as the book continued I found the second story a great mirroring of how the romance of Helene and Darius would have turned out had they met in less 'enlightened' times.

If you've had a hard winter, and are ready to escape, throw on your shades, grab The Goddess and hit the beach!

Click here to read and excerpt and order the book.


Disclosure: I received a free e-version of the book.  All the opinions are mine.

Here comes the sun

Flower watch Spring 2013!

Where Be My Honey Bee?

Wordless Wednesday ! Happy May Day!

No Alternative by William Dickerson Book Review and Giveaway!

I stumbled across the No Alternative Blog Tour on Facebook. I have not reviewed a book for quite sometime and I have fond memories of 1994, so I asked to be part of the book tour.

 Coming into the story with no preconceived ideas, only knowing that Kurt Cobain's suicide would feature prominently, I was curious and hesitant. Suicide is such an enormously verboten topic, I don't know that many of us like to poke a stick at it, much less read about it. So I took a deep breath and dove into the story and read and waited for the inevitable shoe to drop. And it did, and with the darkness of that death, came awakening.

No Alternative;, is rooted in the depression and disassociation felt by all its characters and it is through the inevitable suicide of one, that everyone around that character is transformed and infused with life.

William Dickerson's story begins in a documentary style.  A staccato sharing of this time, the 1990s and this music, grunge. Throughout the book we are reminded of what was: the 1980s, what is: 1994 and what will be: 2012 and beyond.  This  time shifting throughout the book by our omniscient  narrator was a writing technique that I felt worked and I greatly enjoyed. 

The protagonist of No Alternative is Thomas Harrison and intelligent and average suburban 17 year-old who idolized Kurt Cobain. The book begins several months after Kurt Cobain's suicide, after a time of mourning, Thomas is ready to submerge himself in music and decides to start a band. The story moves forward from there and we are introduced to Thomas's younger sister Bridget, his parents and his band mates.  Each character is isolated from others, living behind the mask of what they think the world would prefer them to be.  It is a pleasure to read how those barriers breakdown and see these people washed clean of their perceptions.

 Below you can find an excerpt from the book. I am thrilled that the excerpt provided to me focuses on Thomas's sister Bridget. Bridget is compelling, Bridge is a force and as I read on through the book, I wanted more Bridget, I wanted to pen Mr. Dickerson quick note asking him to start work on a follow-up novel of Bridget.Take a moment, read the except, and run over to Amazon and get this book. You'll thank me.
 

Bridget is parked in art class, surrounded by her classmates at their individual easels. Ms. Sheehan, her skinny, exceedingly longhaired, Earth-mother of a teacher, makes her rounds from student to student. She stops behind Bridget, eyeballing her canvas. While others concentrate on drawing bowls of luscious fruit, glistening and ripe, Bridget touches up an image of fruit, apples and such, impaled on several razor-sharp meat hooks. Ms. Sheehan surveys the depiction with interest, “Do you think you’ll ever actually follow the assignment, Bridget?” Bridget adds some luster to those metallic hooks, “Not likely.”“I do kind of like it.”“It needs more blood,” Bridget observes.“Of course.”Sheehan shakes her head, but has to smile, as she continues along to another student. Bridget places her pencils down, closing her eyes, and exhales. Bridget exhales for the therapeutic value of the act.Bridget has been prescribed anti-depressant medications, many different medications, a bounty of medications, medications as plentiful as Baskin & Robbins ice cream flavors, medications in all shapes and colors, in colors much more numerous than the colors of the rainbow, medications in quantities nearly equal to the many languages of the human race, a tower of Babel of medications and she has been on this laundry list of medications since she was eight years old. What childhood malady could have justified this salad bar of meds being visited on Bridget? Sure, a casual observer with an eye for analysis might have detected her lack of motivation on the soccer field at an early age, like the way she’d shy away from the ball whenever it was kicked anywhere near her, or noticed her brittle temper, like the time she smashed all the windows on the garage door with a hockey stick. An ever-increasing percentage of the medical community views these childhood failures as justification for testing new wonder drugs on innocent children. Bridget suffers much, there’s no doubt about it and most of all from a debilitating anxiety. The bone-chilling anxiety that accompanies her while being forced to give classroom presentations. The gastrointestinal stomach ailments that she swears are there, but no doctor can officially confirm. The anxiety of her compulsive drawing and erasing, drawing and erasing. Bridget suffers.Just breath. In. And then out. The phenomenon of syncing one’s breathing with another’s is seldom discussed, but is a considerable fear held among the anxiety-ridden. It’s something Bridget obsesses over: the idea of someone other than herself controlling her breathing. It is simultaneously smothering and freeing. During an anxiety attack, breathing becomes front and center, you can actually convince yourself to stop breathing if you’re anxious enough. Or so you think. But it’s what you think that matters. It matters enough to actually cause you physical pain and discomfort. And that’s a problem. Inevitably, nobody thinks you’re crazier than you think you are.In an attempt to combat her anxiety while giving a presentation on earthquake preparedness – an endeavor not worth the chalk when you live in the northeastern quadrant of the country, but an assignment is an assignment, and who knows what part of the country one will abscond to when free to abscond – Bridget focused on her classmates around her. She attempted to picture them in their underwear, a ridiculous cliché, but one that had worked for her in the past. It didn’t work this time. She couldn’t picture anything. No boxers, no panties, no edible thongs, no pierced labia or Prince Alberts; just her breathing – And the sound of other people breathing. Bridget became deaf to her own rhythm as her classmates began breathing in the same tempo. At least that’s what she thought was happening. In actuality, it was Amanda Welsh, and only Amanda Welsh, overweight by acceptable Westchester standards, with dimples the size of pomegranate seeds and the crease of her belly pinching the plaid of her uniform with every exhale. Her breathing eclipsed that of her peers, thunderous sound waves created at a distinctly lower frequency and emitted from the inner depths of her flesh. She was like a bag of bagpipes squeezing itself.Bridget could hear nothing but her breathing; in fact, she honed in on it, on the wheeze of air passing through a crowded windpipe.Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.Like the equalizing knob on her stereo, Bridget’s brain shut off the treble and turned up the bass, louder, louder, louder; all the way to the max. Every word out of her mouth was garbled, as if she was speaking underwater. The only frequencies allowed into her ear canals were those from the bagpipes. As a result, she adjusted her breathing to mimic those of the bagpipes, because if she didn’t begin and end her breath at the precise moment the bagpipes did, she would cease breathing. And, of course, die. The bagpipes were her assisted breathing machine: at this very moment, standing before her class, every movement, every word, every breath, being judged by her peers, her teacher, the loiterers in the hallway passing by, and her breathing was regulated by a bag of human bagpipes. She was a stock car stuck in its groove, unable to change lanes. Then she stopped. Breathing.Either the overweight girl she was listening to stopped breathing, or Bridget mercifully broke free of her often unforgiving burden. Either way, the end result was the same: Bridget’s knees buckled, her legs collapsing underneath her, and the side of her head smashed into the corner of her teacher’s steel desk. She was knocked instantly into blissful unconsciousness. She likes this moment the best.

Spring Finally #WordlessWednesday

Spring, Finally!  I've missed you so!