Writers are readers, first and foremost, and I know a lot of my romance-writing pals read romance for pleasure. I used to read romance for pleasure, but when you write romance all day, it can be sort of a stretch to try and relax with one. That’s not to say I never read it—of course I do—but I don’t read it like I used to. For BOOK OF SCANDAL, my latest release (in stores now), I read a couple of riveting biographies. You would think it really dry reading, but if you are into the regency period like I am, sometimes those books can read like the People Magazine of its time. There was some down and dirty goings-on! The first book I read, The Princesses, by Flora Fraser, was about the six daughters of King George III. I didn’t even know he had six daughters. They were strictly monitored and kept close to the king and queen so as not to gain reputations—while their seven brothers were out gallivanting around and being accused of all sorts of things: adultery, secret marriages, incest, and even murder. Moreover, the king and queen were pretty picky about who they would marry their…

Thanks to FreshFiction for inviting me to blog today. Sometimes, the best laid plans blow up like a shook-up soda. I’m a suspense fan. Lisa Jackson‘s Shiver, Linda Howard ’s Cry No More, Lisa Gardner’s Hide…those books sent a shiver up my spine. But I never imagined myself as a suspense writer. In fact, my very first romance-writing attempt was a light, funny contemporary romance that is buried in the back yard where it belongs. Some books should never see the light of day, LOL! Still, the months I slaved over that manuscript were not a waste. I learned a lot. Specifically, I learned I should not be writing contemporary romantic comedy. (What was I thinking?) No problem. I tried my hand at a light, funny historical. Umm…not such a success. No matter how hard I tried to be funny, everything I wrote was dark. Very dark. And spooky. And scary. In fact, that first historical ended up as a twisty, creepy gothic. So I ran with it, and I kept writing gothics. It was easier than fighting the dark cauldron of my imagination. I guess you could say that I didn’t choose gothics, they chose me.My August release, His…

Traveling about the United States has always inspired my writing. I guess that is why, when I have the time, I prefer to drive places rather than fly. Besides the names of mountains and lakes, the town and street names catch my eye. For example, my grandparents lived in Buzzards Bay on Cape Cod. Now doesn’t that sound like a great place to set in a story? Other “east coast” names that fascinate me are Nantucket Sound and Owls Head. The name Poughkeepsie in New York just makes me smile. It sounds like fun—and would be a light story. Roanoke and Claymont give away their “stuffy” British backgrounds. The name Nags Head makes me wonder what happened to the poor horse there—or was it about a discontented woman? (Probably neither—but there goes my imagination…) Women seem to get little respect from history as the names of most places related to them are similar to Crazy Woman Creek, Maggies Nipples, or Squaw Hill (all of Wyoming.) Even old names of streets such as Gallows Road and Persimmon Tree Road start stories spinning through my head. Seven Locks Road—now there just has to be a story about covering up a murder in…

I want to start off by thanking everyone here at Fresh Fiction for inviting me as a guest blogger today! I’m really happy to be here. So, let me ask you this: What is it we find so sexy about those sexy cops and to die for knights?? Hmm, could it be the washboard abs and the muscular arms? Or those brilliant piercing eyes that seem to look right into our souls? Maybe it’s that thick dark hair we want to run our fingers through. Or the uniform or the chain mail? Or maybe it’s more, much, much more. Could it be the many layers that comprise an alpha’s true character? You know? that command presence they have when they walk into a situation and immediately know what to do: The bad guy is apprehended, the damsel in distress is no longer in one kind of distress but now a completely different kind of distress. I think for me, what makes a guy sexy, whether he is a knight of William the Conqueror or a beat cop, is his brain. It’s all connected to how he works. How he thinks. His compassion, his take control attitude, his willingness to stand…

How often have you read a bio where the author states she’s been making up stories since she was in elementary school? I’m not one of those authors. Sure, I got good grades in English class. I didn’t grumble when the teacher assigned a five-page essay because that wasn’t torture for me. Reading literature was a joy and the book reports were a breeze. However, if someone had told me then that I would someday write a 400 page manuscript and have it published I would have laughed hysterically. I needed a practical education. Like many females of my age group, I took the courses needed to get into college along with a bunch of secretarial courses as back up if the college thing didn’t work out. Including Gregg shorthand. Does anyone remember shorthand? I didn’t think so. Well, college didn’t work out. And I got married and had kids. So over the course of the years I’ve had several jobs – sometimes part time, and occasionally full time, alternating with the times I needed to be a full time Mom (which I was so glad I was able to do and wouldn’t give up those years for anything!).During one…

I am funny. Okay, I may not be stand-on-a-stage-do-The-Last-Comic-Standing funny, but I can tell a funny story and I have a quirky sense of humor. I really like to laugh and I am silly more often than I care to admit in a public forum. When people meet me and they find out what I do, they often assume that I write light-hearted romantic comedies with a sarcastic sense of humor that matches my life “voice”. They are wrong. No, I don’t write romps. I don’t do slapstick. I can’t tell funny to save my life. Instead, I write highly sensual, intensely emotional, dark historical romances set in the Regency period for Avon Books and Avon Red (erotic romances, those are written as Jess Michaels). People emailed me after my debut, Scandalous, came out in October 2005 and told me I made them cry. And I was happy about it! So how did this happen? How did I go from being a reasonably happy person with a high sense of the absurd and the amusing to writing super dark romance? I tell you what, I blame the men. That’s right, it’s not my fault, it’s my heroes. You see, I…

Aloha to all of you readers out there in cyberspace. How exciting to be back on the Fresh Fiction Blog and in such good company. This month I have plenty to celebrate. HOMECOMING, my first book for Steeple Hill, will go on sale today. Set in the 1870’s, it’s the story of a young woman who is “rescued” from the Comanche clan that abducted her as a child. She has no memory of her past when she is taken in by Hattie Ellenberg, a woman who has suffered at the hands of the Comanche herself. Joe Ellenberg is Hattie’s son. He’s a man who has lost his faith and his hope for the future—until this lovely young woman searching to know “Who am I? Where do I belong?” comes into his life. It’s a book I truly enjoyed writing, even though I began with a little trepidation. I’ve never written an inspirational before and I wasn’t sure I’d be able to achieve the goal I was going for: a page-turner filled with emotion, tension and characters readers would remember long after the last page was read. So, when I finished, I gave the book to two friends and fellow writers…

I’m writing my sixth historical book now—the third in The Legend of the Four Soldiers series—and already I’ve gone off my writing map. Writers generally fall into two groups: ones who plot out their story before they begin writing and those who wing it. I’m in the former camp, but here’s the thing: no matter how meticulously I plot before I write, no matter how much I try to foresee all eventualities, I always end up making detours from my plot. Detours, in writing as in life, are sometimes frustrating (How do I get back on the main road?) sometimes confusing (Can I get back to the main road?) but usually interesting, and sometimes revolutionary. For example. About ten years ago my life took a major detour. I was a stay-at-home mom living in the city where I’d grown up, spending what free time I had volunteering in a non-profit organization. Then my husband got a new job. In a different state. I wasn’t pleased, but my husband was the main breadwinner at that time in our family, so I pulled up my roots, left the non-profit I’d been so active in, and moved away from both family and friends….

Why is there no period of perfection between zits and gray hair? Why can’t I ever be at the beginning of a trend instead of two years behind it? When exactly do I get to feel like a grown-up? When I grow up, I want to be that confident woman who smiles more than she worries and who is happy with her body because it is strong and healthy. I want to be the woman who gets dressed only once, who can wear a scarf with flair, who puts on paisley without ever considering if it makes her look just a bit like an overstuffed sofa. When I grow up I want to meet new people and remember their names and their jobs and what makes them laugh–and never ever stare at them the next year without any fragment of recognition. When I grow up I want to be on time for all appointments, wash my hair before it needs it and be on first name basis with everyone at the gym instead of the ice cream parlor. When I grow up I want to never be late with the light bill or lose a check or forget to give…

Sometimes it’s hard to get into a romantic frame of mind when its time to sit down and write, even when a deadline looms. For instance today. Two days ago, the sewer line from my 200 year old house to the street suddenly burst sending raw sewage into the air and across the yard. Yeah, how romantic is that? And then I see the outrageous bill, for digging up my entire yard to replace piping–none of which it seems is covered by insurance. There is no working plumbing in the house last night or today, the dogs had to be shuttled off to a kennel and the kids to a neighbor’s house. So I have a little time alone–except for all of the plumbers with backhoes, shovels and long lengths of pipe–and it’s time to write a love scene. So how do I do it? How does an author write a rich, emotional scene when the world is not cooperating? I know of a fabulous New York Times bestselling romance author who pours herself a glass of white wine and then sits down to write three love scenes all in one sitting. I know another who watches sexy movies. I…