Wednesday, November 13, 2013
How NOT to Write a Romance Novel
Recently, during an evening with family and friends,
the talk turned to romantic novels. Great recent reads were shared and
discussed. What made them great? Good writing, including good research, careful
plotting, and respect for the reader by way of meticulous editing. Realistic
characterization, humour and considered vocabulary were also mentioned. It was
interesting.
But, as the wine flowed on, it got more interesting.
We moved on to rubbish romantic reads, and what made them so bad. There are
some old chestnuts listed below, and a few surprises (in no particular order),
but what do you ‒ as a reader ‒ think?
Add
your comments below, and share your advice on how NOT to write a romance novel:
1. Eyes are not people, people. ‘His eyes rested on
her face.’ What? Did his eyes climb out of their sockets, find pillows, and go
snuggle up on her cheeks for a bit of shut-eye? No, of course they didn’t.
Likewise ‘His eyes dropped to the floor.’ Go figure.
2. Do not give your hero hard thighs because it sounds like, you know, it spread downwards.
3. Please, please ‒ particularly in erotic romance ‒
no throbbing, bobbing, thrusting, moaning or groaning. And no pulsing, okay?
And cut the heaving while you’re at it.
4. If your heroine is a single mum out on a date with
the kid in tow, please don’t present us readers with an angel child. As mums
ourselves, we feel inadequate. Let that kid vomit on the hero. Just the once,
on his shoes. There, we feel better already.
5. Stop the love-at-first-sight scenario. Stick to strong physical attraction to get
off to a hot start.
6. Please have the decency to remember that sexual
urge does not make a woman’s brain stop working.
7. No woman has breath like fresh rose petals first
thing in the morning. Get your heroine to nip along to the toothpaste station
before Mr Magnificent wakes up.
8. Pay attention to emotion in sex scenes. Go deep,
deeper, deepest (LOL!). Include sounds, smells, textures, tastes, noises,
sensations, colours, thoughts, and more. Sex scenes without emotion are no more
than porn.
9. Don’t take too long undressing before a sex
scene. If hero and heroine are crossing the North Pole in midwinter on foot
just say ‒ when they get to the igloo ‒ ‘They took off their clothes’,
otherwise we’ll be here all week as they discard the layers and forget, along
with the reader, what was supposed to be happening. Summer is easy. He can wear
shorts, she can wear a bikini. There, done.
10. Please dress your heroes after sex because once,
apparently, in some or other historical novel, the Duke left off ravishing his
stolen maiden in the boudoir, seized his weapon (his sword, his sword, dear
reader) and raced off to do battle. The author forgot to dress him! Imagine the
danger, rushing into battle, naked? Apart from anything else he could have got
that sword between his legs and...oooh...oh...ow.
11. As far as characters’ characteristics go,
interesting is more interesting than handsome or beautiful.
12. A hero or heroine with an unhappy childhood or
abusive background is old hat, boring, and a lazy effort by the writer to
produce character flaws and conflict. Likewise the love triangle. Enough.
13. Create normal-sized people. The hero doesn’t
always have to be 7’2” with a chest as wide as a brick sh**house. He doesn’t
have to be able to bend steel with his winkie. He doesn’t always have to have a
tan, for crying out, particularly if he’s wearing a kilt. I mean, have you ever
seen a Scotsman with a tan? Still on the subject, the heroine must not be
perfect. Give us a woman whose cuticles are in bad shape, so we can relate.
14. Hey! Let’s have protected sex, please. A
fleeting thought will suffice, or a crinkle of foil.
15. Aim for sensation and sensuality in sex scenes,
not a biology lesson. We know what’s going to happen and how, without being
told which part fits where. ‘Show, don’t tell’ never had a stronger role to
play than beneath the duvet.
16. Too much sex in a book is really, really boring.
Unless it’s a sex book.
17. Guys don’t orgasm six times a night, every
night. Believe me, if they did, we’d know about it.
18. Beware the virgin heroine ‒ oft-times found
simpering in an historical novel ‒ who is a sudden, sexy, hellcat behind the
closed curtains of the four-poster, who renders the worldly hero a gasping
devotee, on his knees, begging for her love. We figure she’s lied about her
past. Be a credible writer.
19. It’s a hard world out there and in this
post-recession gloom we probably don’t want to read about severe financial mismanagement
problems that put the heroine off the hero. However, not every hero needs to be
a bazillionnaire, okay? Just make him good with money, that’s the max we ask.
20. And, lastly but not least, for the love of Jamie
Oliver, give your heroine a good appetite at mealtimes. No one likes a picky
eater.
Please add your comments below, and thanks so much
for reading!
Gina Rossi
‘Life After 6 Tequilas’ - http://amzn.com/B00BO1RP8E - Chick Lit
‘The Wild Heart’ - http://amzn.com/1612171087 - Historical,
set in 18thC South Africa
‘To Hear You Smile’ - http://amzn.com/B00925BZ0S - Contemporary
novella
Please join me on Facebook https://www.facebook.com/gina.rossi.7,
Pinterest http://www.pinterest.com/ginarossiwriter/gina-rossi/
and Twitter
Sunday, November 10, 2013
Excerpt from Love, in Writing by Elsa Winckler
He drew in a deep breath. ‘You were in the lift with me last night, weren’t you? You’re wearing more clothes now. What the hell are you doing here? Did you follow me here? What…?’
Margaret seldom got angry. She normally found it a useless exercise. No one took her seriously anyway and she always ended up with a terrible headache. But she was angry now. And the beginnings of a whopping headache stretched its tight tentacles across the back of her head.
‘I was unfortunate enough to have to share the lift with you last night, yes. But this is my shop. I did not follow you here.’
‘Your shop?’ He seemed to be at a complete loss for words. For a little while at least. Then he gestured irritably to the books on the shelves. ‘This is a ridiculous bookshop. You don’t have any science fiction books, no —’
Margaret lifted her chin. ‘You are most welcome to leave, sir. No one is forcing you to stay. And we do have science fiction books. There is a whole section behind you. You will also find the latest vampire stories there. The only difference between this book store and any other is that —’
‘You only have books with happy endings. I’ve never heard of anything so completely bizarre. It is, you know.’
‘Well, now you have. Goodbye, sir, I don’t believe we have anything of interest for you.’
‘You can’t kick me out, I’m a paying customer!’ He looked around. ‘And from what I can see, you need some of those,’ he sneered.
Margaret walked towards the door. ‘Please leave. As the proprietor, I have the right to kick out anyone I want to.’
From the corner of her eye she could see Jen vehemently shaking her head and trying to catch her attention. But she now wanted the man out of her shop, out of Kommetjie, out of her life.
He stared at her for a long moment and then walked passed her, muttering. ‘Margaret, do you have any idea who that man is?’ Jen asked breathlessly.
‘Yes. He’s the one I told you about this morning. He was the one who thought I was stalking him, as if I…’
Jen laughed and covered her face with her hands.
‘What?’ Jen dropped her hands and rolled her eyes dramatically.
‘That man, my dear Margaret…’ She giggled again. ‘That man, the one you have just kicked out of your shop, is Graham Connelly. The Graham Connelly. The world renowned Graham Connelly. Science fiction author. You even have one or two of his books here. Only those with happy endings, of course, but at least we do have a few of his books.’
Margaret groaned and sat down in the nearest chair. She swore.
Jen inhaled sharply. ‘Did you use a bad word?’ Jen giggled.
Margaret swore again. ‘Yes, and I know I never do, but that man…’ She got up and paced restlessly through the shop. ‘I was rude, but I had a reason to be. He is…he is…impossible.’
‘Impossible? Is that the best you can do?’ Jen laughed. ‘But I can see that you are really angry and I don’t think I’ve ever seen you angry. Your eyes are stormy, you are breathing heavily, your cheeks are red and you have been swearing. And all because of a man. Does any of this sound familiar to you?’
‘What do you mean?’
Jen only smiled. ‘You should read your own books. Any first chapter of any of your books. What we have here, Margaret dear, is a first chapter in one of your romances.’ And still smiling, she turned to a customer who had entered the shop.
Margaret seldom got angry. She normally found it a useless exercise. No one took her seriously anyway and she always ended up with a terrible headache. But she was angry now. And the beginnings of a whopping headache stretched its tight tentacles across the back of her head.
‘I was unfortunate enough to have to share the lift with you last night, yes. But this is my shop. I did not follow you here.’
‘Your shop?’ He seemed to be at a complete loss for words. For a little while at least. Then he gestured irritably to the books on the shelves. ‘This is a ridiculous bookshop. You don’t have any science fiction books, no —’
Margaret lifted her chin. ‘You are most welcome to leave, sir. No one is forcing you to stay. And we do have science fiction books. There is a whole section behind you. You will also find the latest vampire stories there. The only difference between this book store and any other is that —’
‘You only have books with happy endings. I’ve never heard of anything so completely bizarre. It is, you know.’
‘Well, now you have. Goodbye, sir, I don’t believe we have anything of interest for you.’
‘You can’t kick me out, I’m a paying customer!’ He looked around. ‘And from what I can see, you need some of those,’ he sneered.
Margaret walked towards the door. ‘Please leave. As the proprietor, I have the right to kick out anyone I want to.’
From the corner of her eye she could see Jen vehemently shaking her head and trying to catch her attention. But she now wanted the man out of her shop, out of Kommetjie, out of her life.
He stared at her for a long moment and then walked passed her, muttering. ‘Margaret, do you have any idea who that man is?’ Jen asked breathlessly.
‘Yes. He’s the one I told you about this morning. He was the one who thought I was stalking him, as if I…’
Jen laughed and covered her face with her hands.
‘What?’ Jen dropped her hands and rolled her eyes dramatically.
‘That man, my dear Margaret…’ She giggled again. ‘That man, the one you have just kicked out of your shop, is Graham Connelly. The Graham Connelly. The world renowned Graham Connelly. Science fiction author. You even have one or two of his books here. Only those with happy endings, of course, but at least we do have a few of his books.’
Margaret groaned and sat down in the nearest chair. She swore.
Jen inhaled sharply. ‘Did you use a bad word?’ Jen giggled.
Margaret swore again. ‘Yes, and I know I never do, but that man…’ She got up and paced restlessly through the shop. ‘I was rude, but I had a reason to be. He is…he is…impossible.’
‘Impossible? Is that the best you can do?’ Jen laughed. ‘But I can see that you are really angry and I don’t think I’ve ever seen you angry. Your eyes are stormy, you are breathing heavily, your cheeks are red and you have been swearing. And all because of a man. Does any of this sound familiar to you?’
‘What do you mean?’
Jen only smiled. ‘You should read your own books. Any first chapter of any of your books. What we have here, Margaret dear, is a first chapter in one of your romances.’ And still smiling, she turned to a customer who had entered the shop.
Sunday, November 3, 2013
The Keepers: Sienna - Excerpt
Sienna Beckham is a powerful witch, and along with her four fiercely protective Keepers, it is her destiny to maintain the balance of nature in this world.
Tonight, it's the town carnival and everyone will be there: Sienna's family, her friends, her protectors. Archer.
Laughter and flirtation await.
But in a few hours, Sienna's life will have changed forever and her powers stretched to their very limits.
For something is lurking in the forest…
Murder. Sorcery. Revenge.
And no one sees it coming.
Find out how it all began…
The FREE PREQUEL to Rae Rivers' magical new series, The Keepers.
Excerpt
Setting the scene: Sienna is at the town carnival with her four Keepers and she's on the Ferris Wheel with youngest Keeper, Sarah Bennett. Sienna sees Archer waiting for her below, standing beside the school's caretaker...
And standing beside the old man was Archer.
Her breath caught as her gaze met his and all thoughts of the caretaker disappeared. Archer wore jeans and a suede black jacket, his hands shoved casually into his pockets. He was tall, with broad shoulders and a sexy presence that had a group of teenage girls standing nearby swooning over him.
The fact that their relationship was forbidden, cursed, did little to calm the butterfly flip in her stomach.
With a brief shake of the head, Sienna silently scolded herself for the direction of her thoughts.
He could never be hers. Ever.
“I’m going to be sick looking at you two ogling each other like that,” Sarah said, feigning a gag. “You’re going to have The Circle spitting snakes if you’re not careful.”
Sienna waved her off, not caring for the discussion that would follow. It was one they’d had far too often of late.
The Circle were a group of ancestral witches who governed the laws of magic, witches and their Keepers. Not wanting the emotional complication from a relationship between a witch and her Keeper that might influence their roles in maintaining the balance of nature, the old witches had long ago forbidden any romances.
So the handsome, charming and darn sexy Keeper was off-limits.
If only her womanly parts would listen to her head.
Sarah’s harsh intake of breath and soft curse snapped Sienna’s attention back from all thoughts of Archer and she glanced at her with a raised brow. “Sarah?”
She’d gone rigid, her previous playfulness abandoned, and stared at her brother with a harsh frown. A frown that matched his.
“Sarah, what’s wrong?” Sienna asked, knowing instinctively that trouble had reared its familiar head. Damn it. When she didn’t reply, Sienna reached for Sarah’s arm. “Sarah, what’s happening? What do you hear?”
Without looking at her, Sarah shook her head. “Nothing.”
“Then what’s wrong?”
“Blood,” she replied, her tone edged with an icy warning that sent chills down Sienna’s spine. She pinned Sienna with a sharp gaze. “I smell blood.”
The Keepers is a magical Paranormal Romance series published by Harper Impulse, an imprint of Harper Collins.
Wednesday, October 30, 2013
Why Do We Write?
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| Image courtesy of FreeDigitalPhotos.net |
Now that I’m a published author and discovered what being an author involves, my relationship with books has changed. When I see a book – regardless of whether it captures me or not – I treat it with new found respect because I know what it took to write it.
Although it's a wonderful and exciting experience, the writing process is a tricky one that often sparks the question: Why write?
The answer is simple but before I explain, here’s a glimpse of a few things I’ve learnt about what being an author entails and why I view books so differently now: (And I don’t speak for all the authors out there!)
1. Writing is fun but it's hard work. Seriously hard work. Late nights, long hours, plot twists, word counts, sleep deprivation, doubt crows, edits, revisions, and more.
2. Unless you’re a JK Rowling or EL James, many authors don’t make their fortunes through book sales and it’s a frequent struggle weighing up the income earned versus the time, tears, and hard work it takes to push out a book.
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| Image courtesy of FreeDigitalPhotos.net |
4. Many authors are not full time writers. We write because we love it but there are still bills to pay, children to care for, homes to run, or jobs to go to. Writing often has to fit into the brief available gaps in our daily schedules.
5. Reviews count. As a reader, I never realized the importance of reviews until I became an author myself. So why review a book once you’ve read it? Because authors like to know your thoughts. Personally, there’s nothing more exhilarating for me than when I receive a message from a reader who loved one of my books. Pure joy.
6. But reviews can also hurt. Remember that old rhyme? “Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never harm me.” Well in this case, bad reviews might not break our bones, but they definitely sting. We realize that our books aren’t for everyone and often view the reviews as a way of improving our craft but hope that any negative reviews are done so with respect and carefully considered words. After all, there’s a human being at the tail end of that review!
7. Actual writing takes up only a small portion of our time. Social media, research, book edits, website management, blog posts, and marketing take up the bigger chunk. It’s so easy to lose precious writing time to all of this and we often have to remind ourselves to get back to what we really love – writing.
8. We LOVE to hear from our readers. So next time you adore a book, pop the author a message and make her day! (She might just be encouraged to write another one!)
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| Image courtesy of FreeDigitalPhotos.net |
10. So ... having said all this, what makes us write besides our passion for storytelling?
Knowing that somewhere, someone was touched by our stories enough to keep turning the pages - and loved them!
And that’s why we write!
Thank you for reading.
Rae Rivers
www.raerivers.com
The Keepers is a magical Paranormal Romance Series published by Harper Impulse, an imprint of Harper Collins.
Sunday, October 27, 2013
Excerpt from Three Tiers for Win
Here is my excerpt from "Three Tiers for Win" that came out with Astraea Press in September. This is Book 2 of The Wedding Girls series. If you've read "Wedding Gown Girl," you'll remember Kienna and Elaine. This excerpt is from near the beginning of the book - Elaine and Win's second meeting. She's asked him to accompany her to her first wedding for her new job of baking wedding cakes:
Elaine was running around her house in a flat panic, trying to find her jewellery, her make-up, which she hardly wore, a pair of high heeled shoes, and the packaging for the cakes. The last icing details had taken forever, and she’d left herself only half an hour to get ready for the wedding. Winston was picking her up in twenty minutes, and she hadn’t straightened her hair yet. Since Kienna had introduced her to a hair-straightener, she’d learnt how to make herself elegant for a change. Not that it could take away all the bumps and misshapes in her body, but it gave her some confidence — getting rid of the mass of curls that never stayed in place. She plugged in the machine and pulled on her stockings. The high heel shoes pinched her toes — it had been about a year ago that she’d worn them to Kienna’s wedding, but obviously the rushing around and standing on her feet for days had made them swell a bit. Her dress was tight around the waist, too, but she sucked in a breath and took the zip to the top. Must be all the taste testing of cake and icing the last few days. She’d made the cake three times until it was perfect and the icing about five times to get the right shade and consistency. After this wedding, she would catch up on all the sleep she’d missed and go on a diet.
As she stood in front of the mirror, pulling her hair through the straightening tongs, she heard a knock on the front door.
“Oh bother, he’s early.” She placed the straightener down without switching it off and pranced to the door in the uncomfortable shoes. As she opened it, all the fears that she hadn’t had time to confront because of the busyness, suffocated her in one moment. Feeling like she may melt into the ground, she looked at the tall, handsome man standing before her.
“Hello,” she mumbled.
He winked at her. “What happened to your hair?”
“Oh!” She felt the side that she hadn’t straightened. “I hadn’t finished straightening it yet when you knocked. Come in,” she croaked out and swallowed the queasy fear lodged in her throat.
What if he was embarrassed to be with her? She was so plain, and in his tuxedo, he could pass for a sex symbol.
“I like the curls. You shouldn’t straighten it,” he said to her back as she ran towards the straightener that was plugged in her bedroom. He didn’t follow her, and she took in several releasing breaths. She had a moment to compose herself and to plan what she would say to him on the way there to make conversation.
“Do you have any food?” he called from the lounge.
“There are some cookies in the kitchen,” she called, and a tiny smile crept up her shaky mouth. She peeped her head out the room towards the passage. “There’s also a meat loaf in the fridge, but I don’t think there’ll be time to heat it up.”
“I can eat it cold.”
She giggled. Even Mick didn’t have the same ferocious appetite that Win had. Imagine being his wife and having to cook for him. Oh, drat. Where did that thought come from? Her hair took on the semblance of feminine style, and she brushed it slightly to add shine. She grabbed her jacket from the bed, pulled the skirt of her red dress straight, and walked to the kitchen. Win had already eaten half a plate of meat loaf.
“It’s delish,” he said once his mouth was empty. “I didn’t have time to eat after my training swim today.”
“You train on a Saturday afternoon too?” Her heart sank. He must be super driven.
He shrugged. “I don’t have a coach anymore so I have to do extra training.”
She didn’t feel it her place to ask why, but wondered if that was wise. Mick wouldn’t be where he was now if it weren’t for his coach, Parker Newborn.
“Oh wait. I didn’t put any jewellery on.” He followed her out the kitchen, and she wondered if he would follow her into her bedroom, but he didn’t. She came out a minute later with her only diamond pendant on, the one from Mick, her closest family member. There was a set of old earrings to match. It was the first time she’d dressed up in months, and she felt good.
“I just need the packaging for the cake,” she said to Win, who was staring at the family photos on the mantelpiece. Warmth flooded her face at the thought of him seeing the pictures of her as a pudgy kid with Curly-Sue hair and Orphan-Annie freckles.
“Wait,” he called. Next minute his hands were on her bare back. “Your hair is caught in the clasp of your necklace.”
Goose bumps ran up her spine at his simple touch as he took her hair out ever so gently. Tears pricked her eyes at his tenderness.
“There we go.” His voice was low, near her ear.
Oh dear! I can’t do this.
“Thank you.” She ran into the kitchen to find the packaging and get away from his nearness. Then she realised she could do with some help. Pausing in the passage, she called over her shoulder. “Will you help me? I’ve never transported such a large cake before. I need to separate the tiers first but will need help in lifting them up and placing them in the boxes. Oh no, I can’t remember where I kept the cake boxes.”
Win stood in front of the cake, his eyebrows raised, his sapphire eyes narrowed.
“It is awful, isn’t it? I knew I shouldn’t have done this.” She held back the tears as she didn’t have time to redo her make-up.
“What are you talking about? It’s awesome.”
“Really?”
“The detail of the icing decorations is amazing. The petals on the flowers and the lacework — all done in icing. I didn’t know it was possible. And it’s huge!”
She grinned. “It robbed me of many hours of sleep.”
“You have a talent.”
“Well, I’ll never get to use the talent if I don’t get this to the reception room of the Crystal Valley Hotel within the next half an hour.”
“So where did you put the cake boxes?”
“I have no idea. I thought I’d put them in the pantry, but I couldn’t find them when I looked earlier. Maybe you can help as you’re much taller. Mick could have put them on the top shelf.”
Win walked into the pantry and peered on the top shelf. He frowned. “Nothing there. Have you asked Mick if he moved them?”
Elaine fumbled for her cell phone out of her handbag and called Mick. He didn’t answer his phone. Panic tightened her chest.
“They must be somewhere,” he said. “I’ll do a search while you think carefully where you may have put them.”
She nodded, embarrassed that he was going to search through her home, but thankful for his take-charge, calming effect on her. Resting her head in her hands and closing her eyes, she thought back to the day she’d bought the boxes. She had brought them inside because she’d put Win’s cake in a box to be delivered to his work. She was still taken aback that he worked in an office and trained as an Olympic swimmer at the same time, without a coach too. How did he survive? No wonder the poor chap was so hungry all the time.
Focus, Lainy, focus. It was so easy to get distracted by thoughts of Win.
“I found them!” she heard him shout from the front door. “You left them in the garage.”
“Oh, did I?” She ran to the garage as best she could in her high heels and grabbed three boxes. Once in the kitchen, she worked on opening one up and putting the little flaps in to make the square shape. Win watched her and then made the second one while she started on the third.
“Are you sure the cake is going to be safe inside these? Won’t it bump against the sides?” he asked.
“I don’t know what to do about that.”
Win gaped at her. “You should have planned ahead for that.”
“I didn’t have time.” Her voice was close to a shout.
He touched her arm as if to assure her that he wanted to help. “Let’s have a look.” He held the box up against the base of the cake. “You’re lucky that the base seems almost the same size as the box so it’s not going to roll around much. I think I should secure it with something anyway. But the smaller tiers are going to roll around.”
“I have some smaller boxes. Look.” She made up another box.
“Perfect.”
Within ten minutes, the three tiers were secured in their boxes, and her sugar-icing flowers and lace, and the little plastic gold gazebo, were placed neatly in a smaller box. She’d packed a container with her tools and some extra icing to touch the cake up quickly when she got there.
“Good thing it’s fairly cool today so the icing won’t melt,” she said as they walked towards his car. “Oh, dear! Where will we put them? I should have arranged a truck or something with a flat surface.
“Do you have a large board in your garage that we can lay them on in the boot?”
Elaine pressed the remote to open the garage. “There’s the top of an old sewing table of my mom’s.”
“Let me see.” He followed her in. Feeling suddenly overwhelmed by a sense of need for his help and support, Elaine became flustered while looking for it. If only Win wasn’t an athlete and would be interested in someone like her. He made her feel so at peace with the world, so calm and so focused. Oh well, there wasn’t time to pine about that now.
“Here it is,” he said as he pulled the board out from behind the lawnmower.
“Oh no!” Elaine gasped. “Wait here.”
“What now?” She could hear a smile in his voice as though he must be thinking she was a drama queen or too panicky, or worse still, badly disorganized, which was definitely true. After running inside to grab a wet cloth from the kitchen, she came up to Win who was already loading the board in his boot.
“Look at me,” she commanded. He looked at her, all innocence, and she searched for breath. A manly cologne and the scent of freshly washed hair and a touch of his sweat sank into her. The combination warmed her from her toes. She swallowed.
“You’re covered in dust on your nice new tuxedo.” It had to be new. It wasn’t Mick’s, she knew that. Had he bought a new one especially for the day? She suddenly felt all weak and wobbly at the thought that he would go to the trouble of doing that for her.
“There,” she choked out after wiping his one sleeve and abdomen.
“Now you look perfect. Oh!” She placed her hand over her mouth at the statement she’d just made. Whipping herself around, she ran back to the house to put the cloth down and lock up. He mustn’t know that she liked him — it would be mortifying and would set her up for real hurt.
Three Tiers for Win can be bought on Amazon.
Elaine was running around her house in a flat panic, trying to find her jewellery, her make-up, which she hardly wore, a pair of high heeled shoes, and the packaging for the cakes. The last icing details had taken forever, and she’d left herself only half an hour to get ready for the wedding. Winston was picking her up in twenty minutes, and she hadn’t straightened her hair yet. Since Kienna had introduced her to a hair-straightener, she’d learnt how to make herself elegant for a change. Not that it could take away all the bumps and misshapes in her body, but it gave her some confidence — getting rid of the mass of curls that never stayed in place. She plugged in the machine and pulled on her stockings. The high heel shoes pinched her toes — it had been about a year ago that she’d worn them to Kienna’s wedding, but obviously the rushing around and standing on her feet for days had made them swell a bit. Her dress was tight around the waist, too, but she sucked in a breath and took the zip to the top. Must be all the taste testing of cake and icing the last few days. She’d made the cake three times until it was perfect and the icing about five times to get the right shade and consistency. After this wedding, she would catch up on all the sleep she’d missed and go on a diet.
As she stood in front of the mirror, pulling her hair through the straightening tongs, she heard a knock on the front door.
“Oh bother, he’s early.” She placed the straightener down without switching it off and pranced to the door in the uncomfortable shoes. As she opened it, all the fears that she hadn’t had time to confront because of the busyness, suffocated her in one moment. Feeling like she may melt into the ground, she looked at the tall, handsome man standing before her.
“Hello,” she mumbled.
He winked at her. “What happened to your hair?”
“Oh!” She felt the side that she hadn’t straightened. “I hadn’t finished straightening it yet when you knocked. Come in,” she croaked out and swallowed the queasy fear lodged in her throat.
What if he was embarrassed to be with her? She was so plain, and in his tuxedo, he could pass for a sex symbol.
“I like the curls. You shouldn’t straighten it,” he said to her back as she ran towards the straightener that was plugged in her bedroom. He didn’t follow her, and she took in several releasing breaths. She had a moment to compose herself and to plan what she would say to him on the way there to make conversation.
“Do you have any food?” he called from the lounge.
“There are some cookies in the kitchen,” she called, and a tiny smile crept up her shaky mouth. She peeped her head out the room towards the passage. “There’s also a meat loaf in the fridge, but I don’t think there’ll be time to heat it up.”
“I can eat it cold.”
She giggled. Even Mick didn’t have the same ferocious appetite that Win had. Imagine being his wife and having to cook for him. Oh, drat. Where did that thought come from? Her hair took on the semblance of feminine style, and she brushed it slightly to add shine. She grabbed her jacket from the bed, pulled the skirt of her red dress straight, and walked to the kitchen. Win had already eaten half a plate of meat loaf.
“It’s delish,” he said once his mouth was empty. “I didn’t have time to eat after my training swim today.”
“You train on a Saturday afternoon too?” Her heart sank. He must be super driven.
He shrugged. “I don’t have a coach anymore so I have to do extra training.”
She didn’t feel it her place to ask why, but wondered if that was wise. Mick wouldn’t be where he was now if it weren’t for his coach, Parker Newborn.
“Oh wait. I didn’t put any jewellery on.” He followed her out the kitchen, and she wondered if he would follow her into her bedroom, but he didn’t. She came out a minute later with her only diamond pendant on, the one from Mick, her closest family member. There was a set of old earrings to match. It was the first time she’d dressed up in months, and she felt good.
“I just need the packaging for the cake,” she said to Win, who was staring at the family photos on the mantelpiece. Warmth flooded her face at the thought of him seeing the pictures of her as a pudgy kid with Curly-Sue hair and Orphan-Annie freckles.
“Wait,” he called. Next minute his hands were on her bare back. “Your hair is caught in the clasp of your necklace.”
Goose bumps ran up her spine at his simple touch as he took her hair out ever so gently. Tears pricked her eyes at his tenderness.
“There we go.” His voice was low, near her ear.
Oh dear! I can’t do this.
“Thank you.” She ran into the kitchen to find the packaging and get away from his nearness. Then she realised she could do with some help. Pausing in the passage, she called over her shoulder. “Will you help me? I’ve never transported such a large cake before. I need to separate the tiers first but will need help in lifting them up and placing them in the boxes. Oh no, I can’t remember where I kept the cake boxes.”
Win stood in front of the cake, his eyebrows raised, his sapphire eyes narrowed.
“It is awful, isn’t it? I knew I shouldn’t have done this.” She held back the tears as she didn’t have time to redo her make-up.
“What are you talking about? It’s awesome.”
“Really?”
“The detail of the icing decorations is amazing. The petals on the flowers and the lacework — all done in icing. I didn’t know it was possible. And it’s huge!”
She grinned. “It robbed me of many hours of sleep.”
“You have a talent.”
“Well, I’ll never get to use the talent if I don’t get this to the reception room of the Crystal Valley Hotel within the next half an hour.”
“So where did you put the cake boxes?”
“I have no idea. I thought I’d put them in the pantry, but I couldn’t find them when I looked earlier. Maybe you can help as you’re much taller. Mick could have put them on the top shelf.”
Win walked into the pantry and peered on the top shelf. He frowned. “Nothing there. Have you asked Mick if he moved them?”
Elaine fumbled for her cell phone out of her handbag and called Mick. He didn’t answer his phone. Panic tightened her chest.
“They must be somewhere,” he said. “I’ll do a search while you think carefully where you may have put them.”
She nodded, embarrassed that he was going to search through her home, but thankful for his take-charge, calming effect on her. Resting her head in her hands and closing her eyes, she thought back to the day she’d bought the boxes. She had brought them inside because she’d put Win’s cake in a box to be delivered to his work. She was still taken aback that he worked in an office and trained as an Olympic swimmer at the same time, without a coach too. How did he survive? No wonder the poor chap was so hungry all the time.
Focus, Lainy, focus. It was so easy to get distracted by thoughts of Win.
“I found them!” she heard him shout from the front door. “You left them in the garage.”
“Oh, did I?” She ran to the garage as best she could in her high heels and grabbed three boxes. Once in the kitchen, she worked on opening one up and putting the little flaps in to make the square shape. Win watched her and then made the second one while she started on the third.
“Are you sure the cake is going to be safe inside these? Won’t it bump against the sides?” he asked.
“I don’t know what to do about that.”
Win gaped at her. “You should have planned ahead for that.”
“I didn’t have time.” Her voice was close to a shout.
He touched her arm as if to assure her that he wanted to help. “Let’s have a look.” He held the box up against the base of the cake. “You’re lucky that the base seems almost the same size as the box so it’s not going to roll around much. I think I should secure it with something anyway. But the smaller tiers are going to roll around.”
“I have some smaller boxes. Look.” She made up another box.
“Perfect.”
Within ten minutes, the three tiers were secured in their boxes, and her sugar-icing flowers and lace, and the little plastic gold gazebo, were placed neatly in a smaller box. She’d packed a container with her tools and some extra icing to touch the cake up quickly when she got there.
“Good thing it’s fairly cool today so the icing won’t melt,” she said as they walked towards his car. “Oh, dear! Where will we put them? I should have arranged a truck or something with a flat surface.
“Do you have a large board in your garage that we can lay them on in the boot?”
Elaine pressed the remote to open the garage. “There’s the top of an old sewing table of my mom’s.”
“Let me see.” He followed her in. Feeling suddenly overwhelmed by a sense of need for his help and support, Elaine became flustered while looking for it. If only Win wasn’t an athlete and would be interested in someone like her. He made her feel so at peace with the world, so calm and so focused. Oh well, there wasn’t time to pine about that now.
“Here it is,” he said as he pulled the board out from behind the lawnmower.
“Oh no!” Elaine gasped. “Wait here.”
“What now?” She could hear a smile in his voice as though he must be thinking she was a drama queen or too panicky, or worse still, badly disorganized, which was definitely true. After running inside to grab a wet cloth from the kitchen, she came up to Win who was already loading the board in his boot.
“Look at me,” she commanded. He looked at her, all innocence, and she searched for breath. A manly cologne and the scent of freshly washed hair and a touch of his sweat sank into her. The combination warmed her from her toes. She swallowed.
“You’re covered in dust on your nice new tuxedo.” It had to be new. It wasn’t Mick’s, she knew that. Had he bought a new one especially for the day? She suddenly felt all weak and wobbly at the thought that he would go to the trouble of doing that for her.
“There,” she choked out after wiping his one sleeve and abdomen.
“Now you look perfect. Oh!” She placed her hand over her mouth at the statement she’d just made. Whipping herself around, she ran back to the house to put the cloth down and lock up. He mustn’t know that she liked him — it would be mortifying and would set her up for real hurt.
Three Tiers for Win can be bought on Amazon.
Wednesday, October 23, 2013
The Trouble with Mojitos
I love the research part of writing, the excuse to spend hours surfing the internet and calling it work. For my latest novel, The Trouble with Mojitos, my research took me onto luxury yachts, Caribbean beaches, drinking cocktails in tiki bars... yeah, it's a hard job, but someone's gotta do it.
You can't research the Caribbean without reading about sea turtles. The fictional cursed island of Tortuga in The Trouble with Mojitos is named for these amazing creatures - survivors of the dinosaur era, and yet the scary thing is that every year there are fewer and fewer of them.
As an author my key aim is to entertain. With all the unhappiness in the world, if I can help someone escape from the realities of everyday life for just a few hours and bring a smile to the reader's face, then I'm happy.
But let's face it, writing words that other people read is also a fantastic opportunity to share the things that are important to us.
Saving the sea turtles from extinction is important to me.
So I wrote a scene into The Trouble with Mojitos in which the hero and heroine watch a turtle hatching. I'm more than a little jealous of them, as this is something I've only seen via YouTube - though it's definitely on my bucket list. If you're in South Africa and would like to experience this for yourself, the area around Rocktail Bay on the Kwazulu-Natal north coast offers sea turtle safaris.
For those who, like me, have yet to see this amazing spectacle for real,here's a YouTube clip that will have you 'oohing' and 'aahing'.
Turquoise blue waters. Sandy white beaches. Mojitos... Film location scout Kenzie Cole has found herself in paradise. Working in the Caribbean for a week is just what she needs to escape the long line of exes in her closet. Though the last thing she expects is to be picked up at the resort bar by a disgraced former Prince!
Luckily for Kenzie, exile is suiting the man formerly known as Prince Fredrik very well. And it’s not long before his rugged, pirate charm is proving hard to resist.
But Rik’s been spending his time in paradise exorcising demons of his own and he has danger written all over him. If Kenzie was sensible she’d run a mile instead of lose herself to lust - although, they do say sometimes you have to get lost before you can be found....
The Trouble with Mojitos is published by Harper Impulse, a division of Harper Collins, and is available from the following online retailers: Amazon, Amazon UK, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, iTunes and All Romance eBooks - and it'll be available in print too soon!
You can't research the Caribbean without reading about sea turtles. The fictional cursed island of Tortuga in The Trouble with Mojitos is named for these amazing creatures - survivors of the dinosaur era, and yet the scary thing is that every year there are fewer and fewer of them.
As an author my key aim is to entertain. With all the unhappiness in the world, if I can help someone escape from the realities of everyday life for just a few hours and bring a smile to the reader's face, then I'm happy.
But let's face it, writing words that other people read is also a fantastic opportunity to share the things that are important to us.
Saving the sea turtles from extinction is important to me.
So I wrote a scene into The Trouble with Mojitos in which the hero and heroine watch a turtle hatching. I'm more than a little jealous of them, as this is something I've only seen via YouTube - though it's definitely on my bucket list. If you're in South Africa and would like to experience this for yourself, the area around Rocktail Bay on the Kwazulu-Natal north coast offers sea turtle safaris.
For those who, like me, have yet to see this amazing spectacle for real,here's a YouTube clip that will have you 'oohing' and 'aahing'.
Luckily for Kenzie, exile is suiting the man formerly known as Prince Fredrik very well. And it’s not long before his rugged, pirate charm is proving hard to resist.
But Rik’s been spending his time in paradise exorcising demons of his own and he has danger written all over him. If Kenzie was sensible she’d run a mile instead of lose herself to lust - although, they do say sometimes you have to get lost before you can be found....
The Trouble with Mojitos is published by Harper Impulse, a division of Harper Collins, and is available from the following online retailers: Amazon, Amazon UK, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, iTunes and All Romance eBooks - and it'll be available in print too soon!
Friday, August 2, 2013
New Release and Giveaway with Kathy Bosman
My Nano novel from 2012 obtained me a contract in December. This was the fastest book I ever wrote. Of course, it needed a good edit.
Cosmetic Heart is a contemporary romance about a make-up artist who dreams of becoming a journalist for a lady's magazine. Lisa hides behind a shell of ordinary but dreams of more. Her family are all in top careers and very focused, making her feel like the black sheep.
Daniel Loriet, the chief editor of the magazine where Lisa works, has had bad luck with women. Or maybe he's made some poor choices in his life. He's flitted from one relationship to another and never settled down. He's joining his family for a New Year celebration but they think he's still engaged to his ex-fiancee who ditched him for no valid reason. Not wishing to look like the loser lover in front of his family again, he asks Lisa to pose as his fiancee after having a hairdo and buying new clothes. Lisa looks similar to her and can do tricks with make-up. He offers her a reward - any reward.
Lisa asks if the promotions policy at the magazine can be changed in exchange for going along with his plans. Maybe, just maybe she can get to write after all.
When she goes with Dan to a small place in Northern Cape called De Aar, she soon learns that he's very different away from work and the rumours she's heard floating around work about him. His family are so welcoming. Thus begins a tumultuous romance as Lisa has issues. Major issues. She's never wanted a serious relationship before. Can Dan change that? Can she let go of the secrets she's hiding from him and can he forgive her when he finds out?
Here's an excerpt from my novel:
It was Thursday, the 30th December, and Dan was rounding
off some edits on an article for the February magazine. Kate, the
feature editor, needed to come up with something more unique
next time. It was too late to change the piece now — okay, maybe
he was too tired to bother, and he had the next week to get
through. He would worry about her story once the reunion was
over.
Lisa still hadn’t had her hairdo. Would they have to lie about
her drastically changing her hairstyle to outdated and unsuitable?
He sighed. She was proving to be quite interesting though. He’d
rummaged through the bag of presents she’d wrapped and left in
his office this afternoon before she knocked off. They were
beautifully decorated with ribbons and cards, written neatly in her
curly handwriting style. He’d opened the one card and read it,
astounded at how she’d written the verse to a poem before a quick
“happy Christmas” wish. The woman was into detail. Maybe his
family would approve for once. They’d have to get used to the idea
that the relationship would end eventually though.
Someone knocked on his office door. Lisa, at last.
“Come in. I thought you were finished work hours ago.”
She smiled at him and then propped her hands on her hips.
“So?” She gave a sigh — loud and raspy. “Typical male!”
He gasped. “You had it done finally. Looks great!” Looks
more than great. Wow, transformation.
“Thanks.” Her smile was genuine and soft. That was the first
time he caught a glimpse into the real Lisa. Maybe she was starting
to thaw. Finally.
“Come here.”
“Why?”
“Just listen.”
“Okay.”
“No, don’t get that employee-boss look in your eyes. Try to
relax and pretend that we actually belong together.” He took her by
her stiff shoulders and pulled her into a hug.
“It’s like hugging a statue,” he whispered into her ear. Her
soft hair brushed against his tongue. He pulled the strands away
gently with his finger and accidentally touched her cheek with his
lip.
She stepped out of his grasp. “I don’t know if I can do this.”
She craned her neck around frantically at the doorway.
“Everyone’s gone home.”
“So?”
“You love that word.”
She giggled.
“Okay, if not a hug, let’s try a kiss.”
Her eyes were wild.
“Have you ever been kissed before?”
She nodded numbly.
“Too bad. You have to grin and bear it. I can’t be that bad.”
He reached for her hands, pulled her close and pressed his
lips to hers. Sweetness flooded his being, spearing right into his
inner core. What was inside this girl’s being that surged into his?
Even though her lips were unresponsive, he kissed her further.
Then he pressed her chest against his. For a moment she stiffened,
and then she relaxed, obviously realising there was no way out and
she had to play along with it. But he wasn’t playing anymore. This
was for real. He wouldn’t tell her that though. That would make
her run a mile.
She pulled away and turned around, wiping her mouth with
her hands.
“Not bad,” he teased.
“I’d better get going now. I’ll see you in the morning.” Her
voice was shivery.
“Have you packed yet?”
She nodded, her back to him still.
“See you then.”
She was out the door without showing her face once. The
back of her head was gorgeous. That hairdo did something to her
whole demeanour. If only it would warm her up to him a little.
You can buy Cosmetic Heart at the following links:
Astraea Press
Amazon
All Romance Ebooks
Barnes and Noble
Smashwords
I'm giving away a PDF copy of Cosmetic Heart to one lucky person who comments on this blog post. If you win my book, I would be thrilled if you wrote an honest review on Amazon for me.
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