Hello, Fresh Fiction! As I’m writing this, Tropical Storm/Hurricane Fay is barreling towards lucky south Florida, and nobody is sure where she’s going to hit. This means that I am not writing outside at the wrought-iron table, looking at the water. It means that I have piled that wrought-iron table, along with all the chairs, chaises, potted plants, plant stands, decorative garden objects and my husband’s green froggy ashtray into the formal living room . . . which is now not looking quite so formal. A pool net will do wonders for anybody’s décor, know what I mean? I’ve been wrestling with hurricane shutters, making room in the garage for the cars and hitting the grocery store, gas station and ATM like every other person around here. It’s probably all a lot of overkill, but you can never be sure. And I have a friend who writes weather-related thrillers which keep me up at night, so I take these little ole hurricanes seriously. Typical writer, though: I’m so glad that I met my revisions deadline on Friday, because now if rogue electricity streaks, say, from a window to my coffee table, through the couch, around the doorframe, down the pool…

Eleventy quibillion years ago, when I was in fourth grade, I wanted to be a writer. I wrote terrible poems, which I think only got worse as I got older and the teenage years descended like locusts, leaving only WOE and ANGST. By college, I had brief bouts of sanity, whereupon I attempted architecture (ohmyGod, they do not tell you about the math), business (my first accounting teacher gave me the final exam in advance, with the answers, if I would swear to her I would never, ever, take another accounting class again), and then journalism (where I learned they had the picky little annoying habit of wanting reporters to not make crap up)(this was before Fox News). And in spite of a fine history of liking to eat and wanting a roof over my head, I still wanted to be a writer. If you asked a question, you would get a story instead of an answer. If I could sidetrack into a couple of tangents? You might as well park a while, because the stories? They would not stop. All the while, I wrote. Much of it was bad. I ran into a former high-school teacher, who’d also been…

I’m not sure how I feel about that word. Just saying it conjures feelings of expectancy and excitement, but it can also lead to anxiety and good ol’ fashion worry. My life is filled with anticipation. Whether it’s wondering what will happen next on my favorite TV shows (Seriously, aren’t we all wondering if McSteamy will end up with Nurse Rose or go back to Meredith Grey?), or waiting with bated breath for my niece to be born (FYI: She was born on April 30th after a twelve day delay, and she is the most precious child to ever grace this planet), anticipation has become a constant life companion. My writing journey has been filled with anticipation. Finishing the book, finding an agent, landing my first contract, finally seeing my debut novel, Deliver Me, on the shelves, et cetera. I though the edgy, bumble bees fluttering around in my stomach feeling would ease up after the first book, but no such luck. As I anticipate the release of my next novel, Release Me, those bumble bees are having a field day and that excited, ready-to-jump-up-and-cheer-one-minute-and-lose-my-lunch-the-next feeling is keeping me up at night. The anticipation of receiving reviews, wondering if fans…

Susan Wiggs was the Plano (Texas) book club’s author for our April get together. I was really looking forward to this month’s call because I had just read and enjoyed Susan’s latest book, Snowfall at Willow Lake. This is the fourth book in The Lakeshore Chronicles series, but don’t fear. Those of us who had read Snowfall at Willow Lake and not the other Lakeshore Chronicles did NOT feel like we had just landed in the middle of the series. We didn’t feel like we were missing any information nor were we trapped in a series summary for the first few chapters. The book truly stands alone…That’s not to say I don’t want more! But back to book club. Susan was super excited to be part of our book club. She had recently been to visit her publisher and been treated to the full Queen for day routine in Toronto and had not had a chance to rave about it to anyone. By Queen for a day routine, we’re talking about large flower bouquets, limo ride, 1st class seat during flight, 5 star meal out with publisher, etc. Of interest to Susan’s fans, the publisher expressed interest in a Lakeshore…

I’ve been told that Jazz, the witchy heroine in 50 Ways to Hex Your Lover and I are very much alike. So let’s look at the similarities. Jazz and I both speak our minds at times, but she can says what I’d love to say and have magic if she needs it. She’s snarky. I’m snarky. She has red hair. I have red hair. She’s tall. I’m short. She’s gorgeous. I’m short. I think many of us would say we echo at least one of our characters. I know that’s happened to me, but never more than with Jazz. She’s lived with me for quite awhile as I worked on the book and then had no choice but to work on the second book, Hex Appeal, which comes out this November. She also gives me the chance to stick bits of history in the book. After all, she and her witch friends have been around for 700 years. She’s lived history, had passionate ups and downs with Nikolai Gregorivich, a vampire enforcer from The Protectorate who’s now a private investigator. She’s dealing with a cranky ghost haunting her beloved 1956 T-Bird convertible and having to keep a tight rein on…

Wanderlust – once you succumb it’s like a chocolate addiction, tantalizing and almost impossible to kick. Growing up in a small south Texas town my childhood was a comfortable cocoon of sameness. I went from learning my ABC’s to the angst of puberty with an identical group of kids. But even while I was cruising the streets with my carpool buddy’s I knew I was destined see the world. I just didn’t know how far reaching that would be. Now let’s fast forward to my life as a nomadic Air Force wife. At times the travel and moving was frenetic and sometimes it could even be exasperating, but it was always an adventure (all 23 moves). I had an opportunity to meet new people, to see new places, and to create my niche in places all over the world. I skied in New England and Bavaria, hiked in the Pacific Northwest, explored Roman ruins, stuck my toe in the North Sea, the north Atlantic, mid-Atlantic, south Atlantic, the Gulf of Mexico and the Pacific Ocean, got up close and personal with a lobster trap and watched the America’s Cup race from the deck of a Coast Guard ship. What a…

Some writers start their books with a character they love. Others start with plot. Then there are the folks who look to the market to see what’s hot: a vampire lesbian spy thriller shape-shifter historical—count me in! And then there’s me. Me, I get mad. Here’s something that made me mad: reading a twenty-something’s blog about her search for the “perfect” husband. He had to be tall, rich, successful, etc. I wanted to smack that woman. I wanted a mysterious Gypsy psychic to swoop in and rock her world by telling her that her one soul mate on this earth was a penniless single father, down on his luck.Hey, wait…that would make a good book. (My first book, Make Me a Match.) But I was still mad. Which was good, because I had another book due. This time, I was mad about reading my 7,436th kick-ass heroine romance novel. Enough already with the spy/killer/half-beast/vamp woman who does it all in heels. Not that I don’t love those books; but I needed a change. I wanted to read about a heroine like me, an overweight mother of two… …um. Okay, so I didn’t want to read that. But what about a…

I’m 46 and I still get crushes. I’m not talkin’ seeing a Russell Crowe movie and thinking,”Hootchie Mama, that’s one fine lookin’ Aussie.” I’m talkin’ lying on my bed mooning. I’m talkin’ trawling the internet for info and pictures. I’m talkin’ the full Tiger Beat treatment. And you know what? I think they play a pivotal role in my writing romance. I got my first crush when I was five. It was Davy Jones of the Monkees. Those big brown eyes. That British accent. Of course, if I’d known he was only 4’3″, I might not have felt the same. But when you’re five, you don’t wonder why your idol is the same height as you. Next? George Harrison. He had the best Beatle hair and I thought he was deep. I actually credit George with launching me on the road to writing romance. In sixth grade, I used to write G-rated stories about me and George. I still have them and they’re hilarious. Then came Pete Townshend of the Who. I know: His nose is so big he could smoke a cigar in the rain; but he’s so smart, with the most gorgeous blue eyes…. Keith Richards of the…

“Where do you get your story ideas?“ “Are any of your characters based on yourself or people you know?” The above are the two most frequently asked questions I hear from readers. The third most frequently asked question is, “How do you research your sex scenes?” This question is never asked by someone who has read my books, always asked by a male, and usually is asked each year at my husband’s company Christmas party. The question is always preceded by over-imbibing on the part of the buffoon asking the question (usually to the embarrassment of the long-suffering wife at his side) and is always followed by a wink-wink, nudge-nudge from said buffoon. Depending on my mood, I will either glare, scowl, look down my nose at the fool (not an easy task for this vertically challenged writer,) or offer his wife a sympathetic eye roll. But I digress (Can you blame me? What are those dimwits thinking???) Anyway, there’s a writing axiom that states, write what you know. To some extent this is a sound guideline to follow, but it’s also extremely limiting. I have a very good friend who writes stories populated with vampires, werewolves, selkies, and other…

I’m delighted to be part of the Fresh Fiction family and appreciate the opportunity to blog today. I write for Harlequin Superromance and The Berkley Publishing Group and have published 32 books, including the two coming this spring. My work is known for its emotional depth and complex plots, usually based in research. My next release, BE MY BABIES, out in March from Superromance, fits into those categories. It’s the story of Lily Wakefield, pregnant with twins, who’s escaping an abusive husband, and comes to Fairview, NY where her grandfather lives. There are so many twists and turns in this storyline that you’ll constantly be wondering what will happen next. I was. Yes, that’s right, most of the time as I wrote this book, the characters didn’t behave as I expected them to and I was left thinking, “Now what do I do?” Research is always fun for me. I’ve ridden fire trucks and ambulances, followed around a federal public defender for a day, interviewed the FBI, used my extensive teaching experiences, and talked to police officers and fire chiefs about my next story. For BE MY BABIES, I borrowed a baby from a former student of mine. At the…