You know, some people are verrrry strange.

Remember the old days when your mother warned you never to accept candy from a strange man…

This is the guy she was talking about!!!  

Sorry I’ve been AWOL. I’ve been busy over at the Maverick Authors’ blog, building the biggest, wobbliest TBR mountain you’ve seen in your life. [http://maverickauthors.com]

There’s still time if you wanna play for book prizes, but you’ll need to hurry!

If you're new here, you may want to subscribe to my RSS feed. Thanks for visiting. You will only see this message once, I promise!

Can you believe it? Yep, of course you can! *sigh*

I’m not blogging at Lauren Dane’s - I’m over at the Maverick Authors!

 Maverick Authors’ blog -
http://maverickauthors.com/

That’s Anya Bast, Lauren Dane and Megan Hart, BTW!

Talk about being totally confoosled!  :oops: Weren’t we just talking about losing things in Safe Places? *sigh*

We’ll be chatting about those dark tortured heroes - you know, the
ones who are so angsty they’re totally adorable.

I’M GIVING AWAY BOOKS, including a signed Advance Review Copy of THE
FLAME AND THE SHADOW, my November release from Berkley Ace.

All you have to do is show up with Mr Dark ‘n’ Broody Eye Candy on
your arm and you’re in with a chance to win. *grin*

See ya there! Finally! Hah!

I’ve been thinking about dark, tortured heroes lately. You know, the really angsty ones.  And I’m trying to narrow it down to favourites. I’ve got Black Niall from Linda Howard’s Son of the Morning and J.R. Ward’s Zsadist - that is one seriously screwed up Brother! Then there’s Frances Crawford from Dorothy Dunnett’s Lymond Chronicles - the subtle, intelligent sort of alpha.

I’m going to be guesting on the wonderful Lauren Dane’s blog this Thursday 25th September - yes, coming right up!  For some reason (could it be that I’ve just written one of these guys? *grin*), I’ll be discussing just what it is about these “walking wounded, but I’m so tough” men that draws romance readers.

Dunno if it’s the stare or the cleft chin, or both… *shiver*

So help me out with my preparation here, guys. Who’s your favourite dark, broody guy in romance fiction? To partly answer my own question, Heathcliff never did for me. Here in Oz, we’d say he wasn’t the full quid, or he had a few too many ‘roos loose in the top paddock. Definitely a bit on the stalker side…

And, BTW, this is a BIG HEADS-UP!!! I’ll be giving away books on Thursday, so drop around and bring that strong, tortured eye candy along with you for a chance to win. Lauren Dane’s place, okay?

Safe places worry the hell outta me. Let’s face it, I worry the hell outta me.

Before we left for Foreign Parts, My Beloved and I discussed where we should leave all those incredibly-important, but frequently-used type things. You know, like the spare set of car keys. DD doesn’t drive and we certainly didn’t want a burglar to find them.

Fine. Dandy.

I do recall, quite distinctly, that the process involved lugging the stepladder upstairs. Unfortunately, after that my memory fails me.

I’ve done this so often, all my life in fact. I can’t even claim galloping senility, I just have a brain like a sieve. I put something in a Safe Place - a place so damn safe that the object is never seen again - or turns up years later, somewhere decidedly peculiar. Much to my bemusement.

We still haven’t found those car keys. Hell’s bells, they must be around somewhere - they must be. But where? My Beloved clambered manfully up the ladder to inspect the high cupboard.

Nope. Grrrrrump!

I just hope we don’t need them before we have to turn the house upside down.

Do you belong to the “I’d forget my head if it wasn’t screwed on” sisterhood? I’m a founding member.

Have you ever left something in a place so safe you never found it again? What’s your own very best “safe place”? What’s the strangest “safe place” you’ve heard of?

It’s newsletter time, which means…

Rackety Kate and the Pirates

Chapter 11

A Calendar of Choices

The story so far:

Kate and Jack make love in the hot pool, but Kate manages to hold her own, (so to speak). “No one steals my heart and soul,” she tells him. “Not even a pirate.” But something’s moving, out there in the jungle…

“Well, hell,” said Jack. He turned to look over his shoulder and the flex of his hips made his hardness shift deep inside Kate. She gasped.

Then she squeaked with dismay.

The fronds were parting and pirates were stepping out of the jungle, one by one, a calendar of buccaneer beefcake. In the lead was the giant Duka, the sun gleaming off the gleaming chocolate expanse of his splendid chest. The First Mate was followed by Peter, his blond hair thick and shiny, peering over the top of his spectacles like some sexy professor.

Oh yeah, mama, whispered Tess. She and Ess were sitting on a tree branch, their mouths hanging open, their wings beating the air in time with Kate’s agitated pulse.

“We was wonderin’, Cap’n,” murmured another man, a gorgeous oriental specimen, his almond eyes dark and intense over high, slashing cheekbones and a straight blade of a nose. He had a small goatee, neatly trimmed. “Where ye’d got to.”

“Aye.” Duka draped a huge arm over the man’s lean shoulders, making him stagger for an instant before he recovered. “And now we know.” The First Mate winked. “Not that we’re surprised.” He glanced at the rest of the calendar. “Are we, lads?”

All up, there was four months’ worth of magnificent male flesh, including Harley, the poster boy for bikers who preferred boats. And Jack.

Holy shit.

Hunching down, Kate tried to conceal herself behind Jack’s body, but he laughed and nuzzled her hair. “They don’t bother me, pretty Kate.” God, he’d stiffened inside her! Despite herself, she bore down on his delicious hardness, her flesh rippling.

“Pervert!” she hissed, wriggling the slightest bit.

Jack grinned, unrepentant, and her stupid heart did giddy-ups.

Kate released her death grip on his shoulders to put her hands to her burning cheeks. “Don’t you have any inhibitions at all?” she snapped.

“Not a one.” He paused and his brows drew down. “Pity though…”

“Pity? What’s a pity?”

Jack gave a theatrical sigh, his eyes dancing, which meant his chest expanded, brushing against her nipples. Kate bit her lip to keep the moan from escaping. “We need to dry you off. Dammit all to hell, you feel so hot and tight and bloody gorgeous and I’m going to have to pull out.” As he spoke, he began to ease away, his satin-steel cock slipping reluctantly over her slick tissues.

“No.” Kate grabbed his hips and clenched her thighs, shivering with sensation. “Don’t. They’ll see.” She swallowed. “See all of me.”

He throbbed inside her like a second heart. “Darlin’ girl.” He dropped a kiss on her nose, another on her panting mouth. “I told you.” Although he beamed with apparently simple pleasure and his eyes were guileless, his teeth shone very white. Sharp.

Kate had to lick her lips. Someone growled, but she couldn’t tell who. “Told me what?”

“You’re mine, sweetheart.” He rocked back into her, punctuating each word with a short thrust. “Body. Heart. And Soul.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see pirates kicking off their boots. A shirt sailed through the air and landed in a billow of white on the branch next to the Hormone Harlots. Their eyes as wide as dolls’ house dinner plates, they didn’t even flinch.

Want more? You can read all of Kate and see more pirates on the Rackety Kate page. Want even more than that? Join my newsletter - see below.

Subscribers to my newsletter get to interfere with Kate’s love life. Sign up to join the fun!

Here we go - the winners of the beeyootiful enamels!!!

Drum roll please…

The bookwings go to … JEAN!!!

And the “Write Hard, Die Free” magnet goes to … SERENA!!!

Congratulations to you both. Send me your snail mail addresses asap. deniserossetti at gmail.com

Thanks everyone, for participating. It was a fun contest. I really enjoyed all those nifty names! BTW, My Beloved did truly pick the winners at random.

I’ve been meaning for ages to write a random post about cats. I love cats, I always have done. Don’t get me wrong, I really like dogs too, but there’s something about cats… Perhaps it’s the extraordinarily supple way they move, or their brilliant gem-like eyes, blinking so inscrutably. Of course, it’s not completely impossible to work out what a cat’s thinking, their body language can be perfectly clear.

I always feel that when the cat settles in my lap, or drapes his boneless little self over my ankles that I’ve been blessed and flattered by his friendship. It’s as if he’s made the considered choice to be with me, not quite the same as a dog’s faithful devotion.

I can’t imagine life without a feline companion.  Little Merlin (so named because he’s a great enchanter) keeps me company as I write. He never gets bored. It’s funny, we had dogs when I was a kid - a dachshund, then a cocker spaniel - but once I had a place of my own, it was Burmese cats. Burmese are worth a whole post of their own. I’ll save that one for another time!

There’s something still wild about even the most domesticated puss.  He walks on his wild lone.  No wonder cats were so revered by the ancient Egyptians. I think that’s part of the attraction for me. Remember Rudyard Kipling’s story, The Cat Who Walked By Himself?

 This is the picture of the Cat that Walked by Himself, walking by his wild lone through the Wet Wild Woods and waving his wild tail.

And yes, I have friends who simply cannot bear cats. That’s not a problem, except that whenever they come over, the dratted felines head straight for them! Apparently, cat etiquette requires that you don’t meet a stranger’s eyes. Clicking your fingers and calling, “Here, kitty, kitty!” is simply beyond the pale! People who don’t like cats avoid looking at them directly, thereby demonstrating their beautiful manners. Worth a friendly greeting. Oh dear…

These pictures, BTW, are from the LOLCATS site, greatly beloved of my DD.  I find the cute spelling a bit twee, but then I’m a grumpy old pedant, so I’ll let it ride. But some of the captions are really funny. If you haven’t read the classic Dune by Frank Herbert, you may not “get” this one,  but I did laugh out loud when I saw it.

The only other thing I will say how much I dearly wish people would neuter their cats. Just this week, there was a story in the local paper saying that 80% of cats and kittens in shelters here are destroyed.  And keep them in at night too - preserves wildlife and saves on dead cats on the road.

I’ll leave you with this Youtube video. Do you think this cat’s human might be a crap writer? Everyone’s a critic! *chuckle*

Are cats an important part of your life? Do you truly think having a pet helps your health? I do! Just stroking Merlin calms me down. He shows me how to live in the moment.

Or do you prefer dogs? Do you think gender has anything to do with it, with more men than women preferring dogs and vice versa? Perhaps cats give you the screaming habdabs. That’s okay, tell us about it!

No, no not that! Tsk, tsk. Anyone would think you read erotic romance…

This is what it feels like to achieve your heart’s desire, your greatest ambition.  Unpublished writers refer to it as “The Call”. And here’s my good friend, Tracey O’Hara, to share every heart-stopping, squeal-out-loud moment with you.

It doesn’t really matter if you couldn’t care less about seeing your name on the cover of a book in Borders. Because everyone has something they want very, very badly, so much so that achieving it would fill them to the absolute brim (and over) with joy and delight. I bet you do!

This is how it feels. Live vicariously, my friends. *smile* You go, Tracey girl!

From Gold to Spice to Sold: The Diary of a New Author by Tracey O’Hara

Well, what a roller coaster ride I have been on in the last couple of months! Mainly the downhill, adrenalin-pumping, hands in the air while you scream with giddy delight kind of ride.

First, my manuscript  Night’s Cold Kiss made the finals in the paranormal category of the Romance Writers of America® Golden Heart® contest. I’ve had contest finals in the past - but this was the big one. The one I wanted to final in most of all. And hopefully my last contest. [This is a Humongous Big Hairy Deal, okay? DR]

So already on a high from my final, I sold my very first piece of writing in June -a  short story to Harlequin Spice Briefs that I wrote on a dare from my very good friend, Melissa Haack.  It was dark, it was scary and it was sexy with a capital SEX. Too dark, too sexy for Harlequin I thought, but I got my agent, Jennifer Schober of Spencerhill Associates, to submit it anyway. What was they worst they could do - say no? Editor Susan Swinwood read it and LOVED it! She loved it so much she offered me a two Spice Brief deal.

[I’ve persuaded Tracey to  give us a tiny taste. This is from Tonight My Love, out May 2009, from Harlequin Spice Briefs. Oooh… DR]

Whitechapel, London 1888

Her eyes closed and a moan escaped as she slid down the leather seat, forcing him deeper inside.

“What did you say this place was called again?” she asked, her breath coming in pants.

“Whitechapel.” He worked two of his fingers in and out, varying the rhythm, playing her like a fine instrument.

“Such a pretty name for such a filthy place, don’t you think?” She screwed up her face and he couldn’t resist dropping a kiss on the tip of her button nose.

“But every now and then you can find a diamond in the dirt. Now choose, my love,” he said.

Isabelle leaned forward a little and sighed. The movement changed the angle of his penetration, trapping his fingers in her hot, wet quim. She pushed aside the red velvet curtains just enough to see while he bent to run his tongue over the swell of her breast before looking out the window himself. Outside the carriage mist swirled low to the ground, caressing the skirts of the whores peddling their bodies for a few meager pennies.

I will be publishing the Spice Briefs under the pseudonym of Tracie Sommers. [Watch for it - and them! DR] I’m saving my name for when I publish my single title novels.

Wow - my first sale! It was only a short story - but I sold it to Harlequin.  BIG TIME!

They welcomed me into the fold like any other HM&B author. I got to go the Harlequin party in San Francisco [at the RWA Conference. DR] - my first published author event. It was fantastic and wild and lots of fun. In fact, fun was very much on the agenda in San Francisco. I met new people, met up with people I had known both on and offline line. For a week I got to bask in the golden glow with my fellow finalists - the Pixie Chicks of 2008.

[Here’s Tracey (right) with Cathleen Ross, another great Aussie author published with Spice Briefs (left).  DR]

And I hugged. Romance writers are such huggers and I loved it. Everywhere I turned there was an Aussie or a Kiwi. It was fantastic. I even ran into our fabulous Ms Rossetti with her famous shoes a couple of times.

I didn’t take out the Golden Heart - but I was not in the least disappointed. The experience was beyond everything I had ever imagined. I got home feeling exhilarated, but only for a few days. When you are that high, you have to come down sometime. And I did - crashing to a real low about four days later, suffering from PCSD - Post Conference Stress Disorder.

 [Tracey with her “Golden Boot” Certificate - for Golden Heart finalists who are no longer eligible for the unpublished contest, because they got The Call. Happens often! DR]

It lasted for about three days - then I had the Australian conference in Melbourne to look forward too. This one I would be able to share with the Go-go girls (my critique group).

But after my first Harlequin dinner in Australia I sat up late drinking champagne with friends, courtesy of Robyn Grady, and crawled into bed at one in the morning. At 6.30 am I woke up and was talking to my roommate, Jo, about what we would be doing that day, and I was checking my emails on my phone at the same time. There were a number of emails marked Urgent from my agent and one that simply had “OFFER!!!” in the subject line.

And boy, what an offer! A three book deal from Eos Books (Harper Collins).

I screamed (I think). I scared Jo (I think) because she asked me what was wrong. Then I told her “I think I’ve sold!” We both got excited. I couldn’t tell people until the next day.

It was so hard trying to keep quiet. The hardest thing I’ve ever had to do - well maybe not - but you get the picture. I wanted to scream it from the rooftops but was reduced to random bursts of squeeeeing! when in private.

Finally, the next day my agent said I could tell people. She’d accepted the offer on my behalf and I could tell whoever I wanted. Anne Gracie (President of RWAustralia)  announced it with the other first sales on the Saturday morning and I was able to go up to collect my first sale ribbon along with the rest of the girls. I was extremely happy to have been able to share it with all my writing friends. It really was the best place ever to receive The Call.

And now I get to publish under my own name.

Thanks, Tracey. So now you all know how it feels, huh? *grin*

Tracey writes dark, sensual paranormals - her books are shudderingly wonderful. You can keep up with all her doings  on her website and blog.

Join with me in congratulating Tracey on achieving her heart’s desire, and in asking all sorts of nosy questions. For example, I’d like to know what Tracey did for her own private celebration… *smirk* Oh, and ask her to tell you about her gorgeous tattoo. Perhaps she’ll even let slip a little more about Night’s Cold Kiss, the first in her three book series for Eos Books.

The wit and imagination of people never ceases to amaze me. While we were away, I collected nifty names for businesses. Some of them made me laugh out loud, especially when I thought of the staff answering the phone. I suppose they get used to it!

So here it is, another Wordplay. (We haven’t had one for ages.) And also a “I’m home, honey!” CONTEST!! To celebrate - if that’s the right word - coming home.

Bean ‘n’ Gone Expresso Drive Thru - Oliver, Okanagan, BC, Canada

Pick a Part Wreckers - Chilliwack, BC, Canada

See Ya Later Ranch (and winery)  - Okanagan, BC, Canada. That’s their logo on the right. Isn’t it cute? The original owner of the ranch adored dogs and had about fifty over his lifetime, most buried in a doggy cemetery on the property. A prolific letter writer, he always sighed off, “See Ya Later!”

Light ‘n’ Your Load Laundry, San Francisco

Citizen Chain Bicycles,  San Francisco

Doo Wash Cleaners, San Francisco

Site for Sore Eyes Optometrist, San Francisco

Good Earth Real Estate, San Francisco

I think my absolute favourite might be the Pick a Part Wreckers, but Citizen Chain is really smart too.

THE PRIZES (TWO OF THEM!):

The other thing I discovered was this wonderful business in Juneau, capital of Alaska, that manufactures and sells the most beeyootiful enamels.  I bought TWO as prizes, one for writers, one for readers (though it doesn’t really matter - it’s totally up to you.) They had hundreds, so if you’re intrigued, visit Wm Spear Designs and go nuts.

Choose between the Bookwings, which is a PIN (brooch)  or the Write Hard, Die Free, which is a FRIDGE MAGNET. Just remember which is which! Aren’t they great?  I know the photos aren’t brilliant, but believe me, the quality of the enamels is stunning and the colours are true and gorgeous.

 THE CONTEST:

All you have to do is leave a comment on this post - and you DO need to say in the body of your comment which prize you’d prefer, because there are the two.

You don’t have to offer up a nifty name, though if you know one I’m sure  we’d all love to hear it. But don’t beat yourself up about being clever - it’s not necessary,  okay?  As usual, My Beloved will pick two comments at random, one for each prize.

Contest closes midnight, EST, Friday 12th September, 2008.

What would you do if you had more money than God? More money than you could ever spend, no matter what you did with it? So much money that it just kept making more of itself?

What William Randolph Hearst did (among other things) was to build the house to end all houses, with every luxury imaginable (and more!). He then invited everyone entertaining, beautiful or important - Cary Grant, Charlie Chaplin, Joan Crawford, Winston Churchill, Charles Lindbergh, Greta Garbo, Errol Flynn. Even George Bernard Shaw. And lots of others.

Hearst Castle is at San Simeon, near Cambria, overlooking the Big Sur coast of California. Hearst was one of the first great media moguls, but he also inherited a mining fortune. The film Citizen Kane, starring Orson Welles, was loosely based on his life.

First thing to say is - I’m not posting any pictures. Why? you may ask. It’s not permitted, that’s why. *sigh* But I found this short film on Youtube. Just spend a few moments with it. The weather we had was very similar. Or go to the official website for Hearst Castle. The Wikipedia entry is also excellent and it has a great photo gallery. (Scroll down.)

But just to give you some idea. The house/s took almost 30 years to build. Architect Julia Morgan (that’s right, a woman) travelled by train and car down to the site from San Francisco every weekend from the beginning. Casa Grande, the main house, was modelled on a Spanish cathedral. It has 38 bedrooms and 30 fireplaces. The whole concept (there are two guest houses as well) was intended to be Mediterranean Renaissance in feel. To this end, Hearst purchased antiquities like there was no tomorrow - there are coffered ceilings, medieval tapestries, paintings and statues ranging from classical Greek and Roman to Renaissance and Egyptian. Where you see gold gilding, it’s real gold. The gardens are exquisite and impeccably maintained.

I didn’t much care for the bedrooms, too heavy and dark for my taste. But I loved the two pools - the outdoor Neptune Pool and the indoor Roman Pool. Johnny Weissmuller (probably the most famous Tarzan) is supposed to have swum laps there.

What my writerly mind found most intriguing was the insights into the character of William Randolph Hearst. He was a workaholic, a man of tremendous energy, vision and focus. He was involved in every facet of the building project, right down to the design of teeny-tiny tiles and his word was law. He also changed his mind a lot. Projects were continually modified and some abandoned.

He had very definite ideas of how he wanted his guests to behave. No drunkenness - and no bed-hopping either! Everyone was to be bright, happy and energetic - horse-riding, playing tennis, swimming etc. In the big dining room or refectory, where guests gathered for meals, was a long table. As you fell further from favour, or new guests arrived, your place card was moved further and further away from the centre of the table, where Hearst and his mistress, Marion Davies, sat. After a while, you realised it was time to go!

Immediately, I could see a character like that in a book, a strong, driving personality blessed with both money and power. Don’t you think someone like that would end up with an “emperor complex”? Imagine where that could take a character! Oooh, from good guy to villain, one slip at a time. A villain we could understand. Not psychotic, not a serial killer or a sociopath, but spoiled in a particular kind of way. Like Orson Welles, I’m inspired by the whole concept of a “Hearst” character.

In complete contrast, we visited the beach that afternoon and watched the adolescent elephant seals snoozing on the beach. Huge piles of mouldy blubber - they come at this time of year to moult and to practise their huffing and puffing.

You can see that this one hasn’t grown his nose properly yet. But they were already ginormous! And these were just the teenage boys! I couldn’t imagine the size of a full grown male. Sheesh! A dose of reality from Mother Nature.

So - what would you do if you had as much money as William Randolph Hearst? Build? Donate? Travel? Buy?

I know I’d love to travel and to have homes in several different places. Somewhere near Florence, in London, maybe Vancouver Island, here in Oz, of course. And I’d love to be able to donate to support the arts. I love glass and textile arts and I adore opera, but it’s such an expensive art form. Then there are literacy programs and libraries and education programs. Oh yes, and archaeological digs. And goddess, what about animals? And medical research? It would be totally involving. Plus, I admit I’d love to be able to afford handmade underwear and shoes. Ah…

What about you?