I'm Still Here by Liz Flaherty

Late again, but a good reason, I promise! I had surgery Friday, a serious but textbook removal of a carotid artery blockage. It went well, although it came with surprises. It was worse than expected. More than expected. I came home late the next day, feeling pretty good, pretty proud I'd gotten through it all easily.

Then, on Sunday, my oxygen saturation tanked and my lungs developed a grouchy crackle and slurped up more fluid than to which they were entitled, and back to the hospital I went. Not the same one--a smaller satellite of the same group. 

My care was great, staff was great. Even the food was good. After two days, I came home. I have family support, love, and care. I have quite literally no complaints.

But I'm feeling strange.

I take medicine for blood pressure, for cholesterol, for depression. Small dosages that keep me level. I wish I didn't need them, but there you go. I also take vitamins and calcium and a few other supplements. 

But over these past days, I've been filled with medication. With anesthesia whose contents list went on forever. With stuff to make me pee. Stuff to allow me to clear other things. Stuff to help my lungs get back to normal. Stuff to keep my oxygen on track. I've done very, very little for myself. My husband even brings me my laptop when I need it. I haven't cooked or done laundry. I emptied the dishwasher this morning and felt like Wonder Woman. 

I feel pretty well, although heavy with what is still in my head, in my arteries. My wrists and the insides of my elbows are still bruised from needles. I've laughed with others about my now having a dramatic story to tell. But I'm slow. I can't think of words. I'm ... well, vague. If any of you remembers Marion Lorne, I have her persona down pat.

I am ... oh, so very happy to feel well, so grateful to the ones who've helped me on that path, but I'm anxious to have myself back, too. I want, when I say or write those words I'm still here, to be sure of who I am and where here is.

I'm not back to writing yet, but my Harlequin Heartwarmings are on on sale. If you've never read one, I hope you'll give them a try.

Thanks for coming by! 

 

Wallflower of Wildflowers by Joan Reeves

I'm a bit late in posting today because I just arrived home from a few days in the country.

The wildflowers are blooming in the fields around our house there, but I was a bit dismayed in how many bull nettles have popped up.

Like wallflowers that no one wants to dance with, these wildflowers are the ones no one wants in their landscape. Why? Because everything about the plant except for the bloom is covered with stinging little spiny things.

If you ever touch or brush up against a bull nettle, you'll always remember to be careful around them in the future.

Why so many this year? Because we had feral hogs using our land as a playground back in the winter. Their hooves dig deep in soft earth and their snouts do even more damage.

Where the soil gets torn up, bull nettles follow. 

My first inclination was to put on my jeans and boots and dig up as many as I could. However, the blossoms on top of the 2 foot tall stalks are pretty. Usually these over-sized blossoms droop rather than stand straight up.

I never knew much about this Texas wildflower so I decided to learn something about them before I decimated their number.

SURPRISE! WRONG NAME

I learned that the plants in my field were probably not Texas Bullnettle aka Cnidoscolus texanus, a spiny, deep-rooted, herbaceous perennial in the Spurge family. They're probably the White Prickly Poppy aka Argemone albiflora, a nettle-like spiny plant that also grows tall.

White Prickly Poppy has spiny prickles, but it's not the stinging hairs that cause severe irritation like those on the Texas Bull Nettle, renowned for its stinging hairs that can cause a painful rash and irritation upon contact. (I shudder to think about what a real bull nettle might feel like.)

Taken at Johnson City, TX

Both plants have striking green foliage with jagged leaves and they bloom in the same time period, April through September with pretty blossoms. The true bull nettle flower isn't as showy as the prickly poppy.

They have a strong taproot system so can survive drought and hard winter freezes. Livestock will not eat either of these plants even in periods of drought because they're so prickly.

Quail and dove eat the seeds of the prickly poppy, and native Americans used it for various ailments, but it has to be expertly used because it can be toxic.

The bull nettle seeds are edible when ripe and were eaten by native Americans. The root is supposedly edible, but I don't plan on digging a plant up and boiling it like a potato unless we descend into a post-apocolyptic era. 

The plant has medicinal uses, and Native Americans have used it for various ailments, but it can be toxic if not used properly.

LEARN SOMETHING NEW EVERY DAY

I became fond of these 2 native plants—yes, I have both varieties in the fields—and I decided to leave them alone. They look a little strange growing almost 2 feet above the other wildflowers, but I imagine them as sentries, looking out over the field of flowers, keeping watch for danger.

I'll love them from afar because I'm not getting within a foot of either of these plants. I learned my lesson long ago when I wanted to pick them for a bouquet. Outch! Ouch! Ouch!

WANT MORE WILDFLOWERS?

My friend Kara O'Neal has a wonderful series, Wildflowers of Texas. Check out SUNFLOWERS FOR HER, a new release that is Book 4 in the series. 

I think you'll love it.

SPECIAL DEAL FOR READERS

I have another special deal for readers this month.

I've been running Facebook ads in the US and in the UK which is why I've been making the first book in a series on sale.

Last week I started an ad campaign for another of my romantic comedy novels, THE TROUBLE WITH LOVE.

REVIEW

"ENCHANTED AND THOROUGHLY DELIGHTED" 5 Stars. A thoroughly delightful romance. The story of not one but three separate and equally lovely couples. The first is Suzannah and Hogan. An FBI agent and a beautiful Deputy Sheriff enbroiled in a little drama, that deftly introduces the second pair.

Rory, Suzannah's mother, a recluse from a bad young marriage and Walter a long time widower and Mayor, Hogan's step uncle. 

They in turn bring in the third grouping Yvonne, Hogan's step-mother and an aging Jewel thief, of English/Scottish orgins called McConnell.

What a merry chase this story is. I absoluted loved how it all wove together to create a satifying and lovely romance.

THE TROUBLE WITH LOVE is on sale for 99¢ or read it "free" on Kindle Unlimited.

Thanks for dropping by today. I hope you found the wildflower post interesting.

Have a wonderful May. I'll see you again next month.

(Find me online: SlingWords * Website * Facebook * Romance Gems...Authors & Readers Meet.)

Joan participates in the Amazon Services LLC Associates Program, affiliate advertising designed to help websites earn advertising fees by linking to products on Amazon. If you click an Amazon link in her post, she may receive a small commision at no extra cost to you.

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Trauma Diaries~ Sherri Easley

 

So last weekend, I was getting dressed to go watch my grands play soccer, feeling kinda cute in my new Spring clothes and I decided to wear my contacts. I wear my glassed 99% or the time.

Oh my! I had no idea my face, especially under my eyes, was so wrinkled- probably from the magnified sun through my glasses all these years!

I immediately got online and ordered every Mary Kay product with retinol and vitamin C I could find, but I am still a bit traumatized.

I will say though, the quicker remedy was just to remove the contacts- now I can’t see the wrinkles (or much of anything else) - problem solved.

Okay, so real work (or therapy in my case)…

Last month I talked about changing things up on my writing so my daughter "might" read something I've written. It is really hard to dedicate a novel to someone who won't read it. I am not sure why I was shocked that this is the type writing she likes, after all, I took British Lit and several other literature classes as electives for my degree in Math.  

So, here is my shot at Romantasy –

The opening to Chapter 1- (of 35). It has been rewritten no less than 10 times and I keep having to undo my doing. It is possible to overwrite I am learning … repeatedly.

Chapter One: The Scribe

I used to think ink was safe—less dangerous than blood, less binding than prophecy.

That was the lie I fed myself every time I dipped my quill. That if I kept my head down and my hands busy, the world wouldn’t see me—and the only trace of me would be in the words I left behind.

My writing was good, not fancy, just plain, precise, and legible. It lacked the extravagant flourishes favored by nobles and the courtly elite, and that was by design. Not because I lacked the skill. I could craft letters with as much gilded flair as any palace-trained scribe—but I chose not to. Simplicity kept me unseen. Safe.

I was content with the simple life I had, working beside Master Faren, the village historian. He and his late wife had shown me kindness when they had no reason to, offering food, shelter, and the warmth of a hearth for my help in transcribing dusty tomes and reading aloud to them from ancient texts.

Every morning, I started my day the same, sweeping ash from the hearth and stacking the day’s scrolls by subject: histories, hymns, political letters.

The Master liked to quiz me between sips of his spiced tea. He’d pause in the middle of copying a decree to ask about the Fourth Age rebellions or to recite a passage from the Book of the Flame. Our life was quiet, structured, and predictable—until it wasn’t.

My life was more than most orphans in Dalswyth could dream of. The others—those left to survive the streets—found work in the shadows. Their trades were built on deceit, survival, and compromise. I knew many by name, few by choice. I knew better than to judge them, for it was only by fate that we were on opposite sides of the glass.

I watched their world from my window, but I lived among the countless realms hidden within the pages of Master Faren’s sprawling library. While the seasons turned outside, I devoured epics and verses, memorized the wisdom of the old gods, and could recite the Exaltation of Inanna, composed by Enheduanna, high priestess of the moon god Nanna, in no fewer than three tongues.

I could do many things that most mortal girls of seventeen winters could not do. I could decipher runes, debate philosophy, and translate dead languages whispered only in temples long turned to dust.

And yet, for all I knew, for all I was, one thing remained forever out of reach.

My childhood.

 

What's your favorite?

By Caroline Clemmons

I just finished a book that will release this summer and am pondering what to write next. I thought you could help me decide.  The book I recently finished and sent to my editor is one of ten in a MAP (multi-author project) called Guns for Hire. Obviously it could be one of many time periods, but it's a sweet historical western. Mine is set in 1881 and takes place mostly in northeastern New Mexico Territory. The Title is SHAD and it is available for preorder here.

My questions are:

Do you prefer a series from one author or a M/AP? 

Do you read single titles or look for a series?

What is your favorite trope?

I'm in a quandary and really need your input. I have so many plots I want to write but can't decide which one to use. With the threats to our retirement funds, I need to keep the royalties rolling in. Okay, mine sort of limp instead of roll, but I still need them.

A $10 gift card to the person whose suggestion I use or whose suggestion most inspires me. ends 5/9/2025.

Thanks for stopping by.

A Character by Any Other Name by Laura Hunsaker

 Good Morning Readers! I have a book signing coming up next month, and wanted to share the whens and wheres. If you're in the Las Vegas area, I'll be at the Paseo Verde Library on May 17th. 

With that being said, I wanted to talk about character names. I was having a discussion on Facebook about how do authors name their characters. I mentioned that with my Time Travel romances, it's easier to choose names because I can pull up old censuses. When everyone is named William or Edward, it makes it easy. Finding a less commonly used name requires going into the census of which ever year you're using, and even then, you can still find some more unique names. In fact, did you know Tiffany (Tifanie) was first used in the 1200s? In fact there's a name for that example: The Tiffany Problem. It's where modern names sound out of place in Historical settings, but they are actually accurate. 

One thing I didn't see mentioned was are there any names authors stay away from? 

I do tend to steer clear of any trendy names. I love the fun names we are seeing in kids, but I don't love a thirty year old hero or heroine being named something that's trendy with the 5 year olds right now. I'm not saying that there aren't thirty year olds named Bryxxtonn, but I don't think it's super common among the men I know. 

I lean towards names like Kyle, Scott, Jason, Ryan...but not everyone is the same. What are some names you don't like seeing in books? And what are some names you've gotten from books that you love! Someone named their daughter after one of my characters and it was the most flattering thing I've ever heard! Have you ever done that? Let me know in the comments.

At my signing next month, I'll be selling paperbacks of the New York Empires series.

Hockey, Romance, werewolves...this series has it all!

Amazon

Memories

I forgot to post on my day this month--the 20th. I even told Joan Reeves that I forgot and would make it up, and then I forgot again. While this is disappointing, it's not at all unusual. Like my waistline, my hair color, and my wish (sarcasm) to cook every day of my life, my memory is just shot. 

But my memories themselves aren't. While I may repeat them too often, that is a small price to pay for having them. They are what made me who I am, and I'm glad for that. I'm also lucky that I have more good memories than bad ones. The gnarly things are still there and will jump out and cause pain from time to time, but mostly they stay locked away. The scar tissue over the wounds remains intact and something serves to remind me that Yes, I Can. 

Even if your hearing is compromised, you can still hear things from your past. We live over two miles from the school, but if we're outside on Friday nights in the fall, we can still hear the sound of the marching band on the football field. Every time I hear it, I can go back to the bleachers as both a student and a player's mom, bellowing the school song and the national anthem with all my might.

I remember Mom shouting NancyJoeTomDan! before she got to my name, the one she was trying to stop midflight in the first place. I reached a point where I didn't answer unless she called me by my right name. I doubt that that went particularly well, but I don't remember that. 😇

I remember the day Hilary Sares called me from Kensington and bought my first book, Always Annie, and so many days and moments from the year that followed. Although I take nothing away from indie-publishing, self-publishing, or any other kind of non-trad publishing, I will say there is nothing quite like getting The Call from an editor. 

In direct disagreement with what I said above about gnarly things, I do remember the days when losses were life-changing. I believe the Kennedys' and MLK's assassinations changed the person I was. So did my grandfather's death when I was 13. My parents' loss of a three-year-old child long before I was born imprinted sadness in a place I couldn't reach and still can't. What would Christine have been like? Would she have liked me? Would my parents have been happier if she'd lived? 

I remember finishing a book--in 83 days!--and knowing it was different. For years, I called it the book of my heart knowing it was more than that because, honestly, they all are that. It was a book that got me two agents, that I honestly thought would sell the first time it hit a publisher's desk. 

It took ten years. 

But One More Summer is still special to me in ways I can't even put into words. It has created more memories than any other book I've written. It gave me a writing bar that I too often don't reach, but ... oh, I remember. The writing at three in the morning before I left for work at four. Waking in the night realizing that no, Grace wouldn't say that. The array of rejections that led to its eventual publication. 

There is an old Elvis Presley song written by Mac Davis and Billy Strange with lyrics that refer to memories being pressed between the pages of your mind. I think that's where mine are, and I love that the word pages is part of that reference. The pages of my books and of hundreds of others have created memories I cherish. More than having just read about them, I remember Jo March in the attic, Anne Shirley in the orchard at Green Gables, Betsy on Putney Farm in Vermont with the kittens in the hayloft, Trixie Belden's mysteries with the Bob Whites of the Glen. 

Sometimes, it doesn't matter what I forget. I am so very blessed by what I remember. 

There are many memories included in the A New Season series. I loved writing about Syd, Riley, and Dinah and the men they come to love. They're older, formed by the lives they've lived, and eager for the ones ahead. I hope you like them, too. 

My Word Is My Bond by Joan Reeves

It's ten o'clock on a Tuesday night, and I just remembered I needed to write this post for my blog day tomorrow, the 16th.

I groaned and collapsed on the bed. Torn between going to bed—which I really, really wanted to do—and fulfilling my obligation, I next began bargaining with myself.

Here's how it went.

I can get up early in the morning and write it. I need a good night's sleep. I'm too tired. I'm all written out. I don't know what to write. My brain is empty of words.

The counter argument went this way.

No, you're no longer a morning person. You won't get up early. It takes you a while to get going what with the eye drops, vibration plate, IR and NIR treatment, eating something so you can take ibuprofen for your wrist joint.

Finally, I told the slacker me to just get up and do it. Thus, I find myself at the computer, pecking away, and I'm happy to be doing it. Getting over that initial inertia hump is difficult but always worthwhile. 

OBLIGATION TRUMPS ALL

I find the one sure way I'll do something, even if it's something I don't want to do, is to commit to it. I made a commitment to blog here on the 16th, and, come Hell or high water, I'll always do it. 

I'm that way about everything. If I say I'll do it, I will. I've missed blogging 2 or 3 times in the past, and I've always felt terrible about it.

I finally decided to use that "reluctance to break my word" to my own writing. 

I promised myself I would write 2K-3K words every day, Monday through Friday. That's about the length of a chapter for me. I did this because I haven't published a new book since 2022. Shock! Right? Time just kind of slipped away in the presence of loss and grief.

(Note. I did write 3 books, but I just didn't publish them. Yet. Even getting them ready to publish seemed like a monumental task.)

I made that writing promise. I put it on a graphic and use it as the image on my monitor display, I told it to my husband, and my daughter, and now I'm telling it to you.

Of course, it took me the first 3 months of this year to actually make that promise to myself. I spent those 3 months getting my ducks in a row.

I'm happy to report that I am actually keeping that promise to myself. My new book is Old Enough To Be Bold and is set for pre-order now. It will publish on or before May 30.

PROMISE KEEPER

The surest way to unhappiness in any part of life is to be a breaker of promises. In the past, people proudly proclaimed, "My word is my bond." It meant something. It meant that they could be trusted to do as they said. There's tremendous power and integrity in that.

In today's world, it's increasingly rare to find people who can be that person. If you want to succeed and have the respect and friendship of others, be that kind of person.

MY SALE BOOK THIS WEEK

99¢ SALE, Heat Lightning, "A real page turner." —NetGalley.

Amnesia. Desire. Passion. Tessa knows those three to be true, but she doesn't know David, the man who says he's her husband—her protector. Amnesia has stolen her memories. 

David is a stranger, but when he touches her, desire flashes between them like heat lightning on a summer night. He wants her, but he doesn't say he loves her. Has Fate offered her a second chance at life and love?

Secrets. Lies. Danger. Why does David seem to hate her even as he pulls her into his arms? What is he hiding? How can she trust him when her gut says, Trust no one? 

She can't help falling in love with David, but her feeling of foreboding grows, as if something awful is about to happen. Will Tessa's lost memories be the death of her?

Wishing you a great second half of April. I'll see you in May!

JOAN ONLINE

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Why Fantasy Books Are Flying Off the Shelves (and What That May Say About Us) ~Sherri Easley

 

My daughter has not read either of my books. She is into Fantasy genres and Dragons- so I have decided to write a fantasy novel, so she will read at least one of my writings. She said something though that got me to thinking and researching. 

“As messed up as the world is right now, people just need an escape.” ~ Lauren–my daughter

In 2024, fantasy fiction sales skyrocketed—adult fantasy alone grew by a staggering 85% in the first half of the year, with titles like Fourth Wing by Rebecca Yarros leading the charge. From romantasy to epic quests, fantasy stories are not just trending—they’re thriving.

According to reports from Circana BookScan and Publishers Weekly, fantasy is officially on fire. Adult fiction sales grew by 9.5 million units, with fantasy, thrillers, and romance topping the charts. Meanwhile, “romantasy”—the love child of fantasy and romance—has exploded in popularity thanks in part to BookTok and reader communities craving high emotion and high-stakes adventure.

Why is this happening? Well, the last few years have been... a lot.

War, climate disasters, political chaos, inflation, pandemics—we’ve had a front-row seat to a world that often feels like it’s cracking at the edges. And in response, readers aren’t just reaching for comfort food fiction. They’re reaching for escape—and empowerment.

Fantasy offers both.

In these stories, the stakes are often higher than our own reality: a kingdom on the brink, a war between realms, a magical bloodline in hiding. But there’s something cathartic in watching fictional characters face overwhelming odds, stand their ground, and win.

Even if they’re wielding a sword instead of a ballot

There’s also the irresistible pull of romantasy—where fierce heroines fall in love while saving their worlds. These books aren’t just about quests. They’re about intimacy, connection, and hope in the midst of battle.

In a time when we’re more digitally connected but emotionally exhausted, romantasy gives us something to feel—deeply.

What Fantasy Gives Us Right Now:

• Escape: A breath away from headlines and heartache.
• Empowerment: Ordinary girls discovering extraordinary strength.
• Justice: Villains get vanquished. Light wins.

To prepare for my writing quest, I listened to the Blood and Ash series from Jennifer L Armentrout. They were very long books and didn’t disappoint.

Has a fantasy book saved your sanity this year?

Drop your recommendations in the comments—I need more dragons in my life! 

This is Dylan- the soon to be 9 year old Grand daughter's cover for her book- Even she is in on the fantasy wagon! ;) 

 

 

YOU'RE THE GREATEST!

By Caroline Clemmons

Confession time—I can’t help comparing myself to other authors. Not the ones who quit, that would be too simple. No, I compare myself to the super-successful indie writers who make six and seven figure in royalties each year. Idiot. I started out in the writing business wanting to be the next Nora Roberts. Ha ha. To say I haven’t made it is an understatement.

This past Sunday, our minister said that comparing ourselves to others is a form of vanity. Ouch! It isn’t the fame or financial success I envy (although that would be wonderful), it’s the ability to sell books. We pour our hearts into the books we write. If they don’t sell well, the rejection stings. More than stings, it’s a knife to the heart of our creativity.

Recently, I released a new book which I was certain would be a success. It’s heroine is feisty and hero is strong and successful, and there's an HEA ending. But, it isn’t selling very well. I’ve done all the usual things to promote it, yet it still isn’t selling. How does this make me feel? I can’t help feeling like I’ve failed somehow. It’s personal.

The thing I (we) have to remember is that each of us is a unique being with special gifts. Not just one gift, but many. Perhaps one stands out most and/or brings us the most fulfillment, but we have many talents. And, we aren’t competing with others—we are in competition with ourselves to keep improving, to feel fulfilled, to accomplish our personal best.

I don’t like boxing, but I remember Mohamed Ali’s mantra, “I am the greatest!” If I’ve done my best and written the best book I can, then that is success, the greatest I can be. How can I do better than my best?

I challenge you to say the same to yourself: I am the greatest I can be!

By the way, my last release is Sidney and the Mail Order Bride, Book 6, Texas Hill Country Mail Order Brides, a sweet western historical romance. Sidney Garton wrote a matchmaker and requested a bride who could cook, keep house, and help him in his mercantile store. Antoinette Fournier has been trained to be the wife of a wealthy man and knows only how to manage servants. She proves she’s made of tougher stuff than she or Sidney imagined when Sidney has a serious accident and she must take charge of the store. She’s able to confront a would-be robber, but the criminal has sworn revenge.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DNTP95FD 

Thanks for stopping by. Enjoy our April showers.

  

Spring Fever, Hay Fever...Werewolf Fever? by Laura Hunsaker

 I have an urgent matter that must be brought to our attention! 

Spring has sprung and if you're like me, that means you're suffering from hay fever. I'm also suffering from spring fever after coming off spring break where I live. With all of that in mind, I have to know your thoughts:

 If you're allergic to dogs, would you be allergic to werewolves?

I saw an Instagram reel (linked here) and it was a woman asking an allergist if people can be allergic to werewolves in their human form. He's such a good sport and takes it seriously and professionally stating that yes, you'd probably be allergic to his human form. He goes into the whys and I loved his response. 

When we read fiction, especially Paranormal Romance, we suspend belief. So obviously our heroine isn't going to be allergic to our hero...but I kind of want to write a book where the heroine sneezes every time she's around him and can't figure out why because werewolves don't exist, of course. But how fun would that plot be? And when they finally realize that he's a werewolf, and she's allergic to dogs, so apparently she's also allergic to wolves, and therefore werewolves, they buy him special shampoo and she takes her Zyrtec and they can live happily ever after!

Obviously I'm being a bit dramatic, but I do think it could work. I co-write a hockey romance series with Heather Lire. Together we are Kenzie MacLir. We write a slightly paranormal hockey series, and our latest hero is a werewolf. Maybe his love interest needs to have a wolf allergy? ;)

So tell me your thoughts! Do you think you'd be allergic to werewolves if they existed? Or should be suspend belief and pretend that wouldn't happen? 

Amazon |  Barnes & Noble  |  Kobo  |  Google Play Books  |  Smashwords | Apple 

The New York Empires hockey team is ready for you!

Each book has 3 novellas inside, and they all take place on the same team and during the same main event.

In the latest book, ROUGHING IT, my story is called AGAINST THE BOARDS, and well look at that. Werewolves. ;)

Against the Boards by Kenzie MacLir

Kyle Sandberg is living his best life. He’s one of the top hockey players in the world. Has two amazing best friends and all the sarcastic hockey t-shirts he could wear. After his own family turns their backs on him, he’s happy playing for the Empires and hanging out with his own found family. What he doesn’t want is his pain in the ass twin brother back in his life or a mate.

When paramedic Faith Church left Puerto Rico for New York, she had zero intentions of getting involved in the local pack. Having had her fill of pack politics, she was ready to go lone wolf. But being left alone was too much to ask when her cousin was the Alpha’s mate.

What neither was counting on was Fate, having her own plans for them. A chance encounter at a traffic accident changes everything. Kyle and his wolf are willing to go with Fate’s plans. But Faith, having finally broken away from her pack’s expectations wants nothing to do with Fate, or Kyle. Too bad her wolf disagrees…

Having A Good Time by Liz Flaherty

I'm late. My date to post was yesterday, and I'm sorry. But I'm not.

I need to write. I keep getting behind on blog posts I've agreed to and LIKE writing, and it worries me when I wake up at three in the morning with thoughts of Damn! I forgot! I'm sorry, because I like being timely and even early sometimes. But I'm ... yeah, I'm not sorry.

Although I write something every day, I'm behind on my work-in-progress, book three of the Harper Loch colors series, and I need to establish a manuscript routine, including sprints, research in non-writing hours, and maintaining word count. I will regret writing myself into a panicky corner. But not yet. Maybe tomorrow ... no, not then, either. 

Yesterday, when I had an appointment for a medical procedure and another for having my nails done, I hung out with our son who's been visiting this week. We went to breakfast, ran some errands, then came home for a while before going out to dinner with our daughter, son-in-law, and grandson. Then I read aloud at an open mic, one of those things I never thought I'd do, but kind of enjoy. I never got to ... well, several things. 

Sometimes, to adulterate what I've always thought was a particularly stupid line by Erich Segal, Having a good time means never having to say you're sorry. Like the original quote, the altered one is only good sometimes with some people, but it's almost always good with retired people who don't have anyone depending on them. 

When I am making my lists of what I hate about growing old and what I love about growing old, having a good time is right at the top of the second one. Sometimes, if you let it and if your knee's not aching too much and there hasn't been sadness in your week, you can forget the first list altogether. And just have a good time.

I don't have anything new right now, but something old and loved is on sale. I loved writing Harlequin Heartwarmings, and I especially loved The Happiness Pact. Both the book and the box set are on sale right now. If you like sweet romance, it's a good time to check these out. 

Or the box set https://a.co/d/7jkSafT

Irish Eyes Are Smiling by Joan Reeves

Top of the morning to you. Even though St. Patrick's Day isn't until tomorrow, I'm wallowing in all things Irish today.

On the menu this fine morning ia a hearty Full Irish Breakfast.

Okay, well, not exactly a Full Irish which consists of bacon, sausages, eggs, black and white pudding, fried potatoes, tomatoes, mushrooms, toast, and sometimes baked beans accompanied by a strong cup of fresh-brewed tea.

My Americanized version consists of bacon, an egg, a slice of multigrain toast, and fresh-brewed coffee. *sigh* I fear my Irish ancestors would be offended if they knew.

Perhaps I can make up for the breakfast insult with a typical Irish dinner? Let's see, I have a roast in the freezer but no potatoes. No lamb so no Irish stew. No colcannon because, as previously stated, no potatoes, and also no cabbage.

All is not lost in my attempt to celebrate St. Patrick's Day. I know the words to When Irish Eyes Are Smiling. My grandfather used to sing it when I was a little girl. I can even post the lyrics here because they entered the public domain in 2007.

The song, written by Ernest R. Ball, George Graff, and Chauncey Olcott, was published in 1912. A recording of the song was made popular by Bing Crosby in 1939.

EVERYBODY SING

When Irish eyes are smiling, Sure, 'tis like a morn' in Spring

In the lilt of Irish laughter, You can hear the angels sing. 

When Irish hearts are happy, All the world seems bright and gay

And when Irish eyes are smiling, Sure, they steal your heart away

When Irish hearts are happy, All the world seems bright and gay, And when Irish eyes are smiling, Sure, they steal your heart away.

I have an Irish gift for you to celebrate St. Patrick's Day tomorrow. From now until March 18th at 11:59PM PDT, you can claim a free copy of LIAM'S WILD IRISH ROSE from Amazon.

Warning: this story is super spicy—mucho caliente!—so leave it on the cyber shelf if super sexy romance is not your thing.

The story opens at Juan O'Hara's Mexican-Irish Pub, a place I loved so much that I wish it were real!

Is a “no-strings-attached” arrangement enough to satisfy Maura O'Reilly? The idea of being tied down to one man terrifies her, yet she can't seem to stay away from Liam Harper. Despite her attempts to resist, she finds herself constantly drawn to him.

Of all the women in the world, why, Liam wonders, did he have to fall for the one who wants nothing more than a physical relationship with him? Most men would consider that a dream come true, but Liam doesn’t. He wants more than just sex with Maura. He wants her heart.

If you enjoy this spicy Irish romance, please leave a short review. I will deeply appreciate your time and effort in doing so.

Remember to wear green tomorrow. Happy St. Patrick's Day

JOAN ONLINE

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When Your Favorite Author Writes Too Slow

by Stephanie Suesan Smith In for Bea Tifton

Don't you hate it when an author you love puts out a new book and you read it all in one day?  I love the J.D. Robb books, and this happens to me every February and November.  Bonded in Death, the 60th book in this series, came out in February.  Even though I tried to read it slowly, the book was gone overnight (literally; I  stayed up reading it way past my bedtime).  Even though I consider the In Death books romances, they are a little gory for a lot of romance fans.  Of course, J.D. Robb is really a pseudonym for Nora Roberts.

Ms. Roberts writes fast but is now wealthy enough that she puts out four books a year.  Two In Death books, one standalone book, and one book in her current series.  She published Inheritance in November, 2023.  

The next book didn't come out for a whole year.  It came out in November, 2024.

The final book comes out in November, 2025.  I have learned from experience to reread the first two books in the trilogy before reading the last one.  Okay, so maybe a week's worth of reading this time.  I guess I should be grateful that Ms. Roberts delivers a new book every quarter between the two names she publishes under, but I wish she put out more books a year.  She used to when she was younger and hungrier, but now she has the luxury of working less.

In between Ms. Roberts' books, I mostly read nonfiction books.  I will read anything but horror (I have enough nightmares, thank you very much).  Occasionally, I will stumble on a nice series that has multiple books out, and I binge-read them.

How do you handle the space between the publication of books by your favorite author?  How do you find new authors to read?

 

 

HELLO, MARCH - SPARE THE STORMS

 By Caroline Clemmons

 

 March came in like a lamb, so I suppose it will go out like a lion. Here in North Central Texas that means the possibility of major storms. Not just rain, hail, or tornados but also sand or dust.

I remember walking home from school in a sand storm with sand stinging my legs. Worse were the dust storms. Dust snuck in every window. Our home had wooden frames that admitted more sand and dust than modern metal frames. I remember my mother hanging wet sheets at the windows of my room during a sand or dust storm when I was home from school very sick. My mom was amazing (for many reasons)!

Once Hero and I were visiting my mother-in-law, who lived in a new and quite lovely assisted living facility in Lubbock, Texas. (This was  after my mother had already moved from Lubbock to an apartment near us.) A black dust storm blew in from somewhere far away from West Texas. The dust in that area is reddish brown, and we had no idea where the black dust originated. This was by far the worst dust storm we had ever encountered. The street lights came on even though it was mid-day. Visibility resembled a heavy London fog. The local newspaper dubbed it "Black Sunday."

Lung problems are my Kryptonite. Even in my mother-in-law’s apartment, the dust created the sensation of too little air. I became so ill that we either had to leave or take me to the ER. We left, my Hero driving faster than usual until we descended the Caprock and left the storm behind.

For writers, every event is food for a book. In The Most Unsuitable Courtship, a similar storm occurred. The hero and heroine had rescued three orphaned children, one of whom had an asthma attack in the middle of nowhere with killers chasing them. Of course, the hero and heroine were able to cope and help the child. I like the story, by the way. If you haven’t read that third book in the Kincaid series, a western historical romance, here’s the e-book link:

https://www.amazon.com/Most-Unsuitable-Courtship-Kincaids-Book-ebook/dp/B00G5YXI6I/

It’s also available in audiobook and paperback and is enrolled in KU.

 

Have you been in a bad sand or dust storm?

Picture of dust storm written of above,

called Black Sunday in a story

by the Lubbock Avalanche-Journal

Thanks for stopping by. Happy March.

Scent of a Memory by Laura Hunsaker

 It's no secret I work in a school, and right now, it's science fair time! One of the students made a project had to do with scent and how it can help hold memories. They were trying to see if you smelled the same scent every time you studied, would it help you remember the facts when you took the test? 

This felt like the perfect topic to talk about! Scent plays a role in so many books. How often do we read about what our hero or heroine smells like? Literally every romance novel talks about how the heroine smells of lavender, or peaches and cream, or strawberries. The hero smells of sunshine and leather, or of pine and man...and I love all of the descriptions!

Scent is tied to so many things, that of course we'd mirror that in literature. And I'm guilty of it too! Most recently I've used vanilla, coffee, caramel, or maybe I'm just hungry when I write ;) 

But the idea that scent is tied to memory is so true! My dad lived in Germany for years and he said that one time when he came home, his whole house smelled different. He couldn't put his finger on it, but the scent really made him homesick. A bit later when he opened the mail, he'd found a letter from his mom and she'd included orange blossoms from their trees. He didn't expect to smell California in his German home, so it hadn't occurred to him that it might be orange blossoms!

I've had instances where I smelled a certain perfume that reminded me of my grandmother, or a food that reminded me of the county fair, but nothing as cool as the one my dad had. But how about you? Do you have any instances where a scent unexpectedly triggered a memory?

And here, for your reading pleasure, my heroine who smells of vanilla, and my hero who smells of sandalwood:

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Lessons Learned by Liz Flaherty

I spent most of the past several days reading back over my one and only historical romance, Home to Singing Trees, which first came out in 2010 and again in 2015. I don't know why there are two publication dates listed, since it was the same publisher, but that's not why I'm talking about it. It's a fictional story that is set in a real place, with real names, and with some real events. Singing Trees farm is still in my family, although it's never had that name except in my mind.

My writing has changed some since those days. Better in some ways and worse in others. I wasn't a POV purist then and, frankly, I'm still not. I still typed with two spaces after a period. But I think the story still stands, and I hope for its re-release.

Now, for the reason I started this. I started reading romance in the 1960s, when I was in junior high and started reading teen romances. Then I used to sneak around and read my mom's True Story magazines, which I thought really were true. Then I read the Avalon romances Mom got at the library, and my love for the genre took root. 

I thought I would try to make a list of lessons learned books and authors that turned corners (sometimes to go down alleys) as a writer. I'd love to know what and who your influences were, too.

The only author name I remember from the Avalon books is Peggy O'More, who wrote a lot of books under several pseudonyms. I don't actually remember her books, but I do remember that she was funny. That was when I found out I liked funny, smart romance.

Lesson # 1: Humor.

In 7th grade, I read Gone With the Wind. I've read it several times since, but the thing that sticks out even now is that Scarlett O'Hara wasn't actually beautiful despite her 17-inch waist. She wasn't always admirable, either, but her lack of classic beauty is what stuck 

Lesson #2: Relatability in looks. 

I read a book when I was in my early 20s that to this day I don't remember either the title of or who wrote it, but I am everlastingly grateful for how she ended one chapter. Paraphrased, the cliffhanger was: She cried. And cried. And cried. 

Lesson #3: Use syntax to illustrate emotion. I suppose it's another way of saying show, don't tell. But 50 years later, I still remember that I cried with her.

I read a gazillion Harlequin Romances--didn't we all? I learned from a lot of them, and I loved the British voices, but then I read Janet Dailey and Nora Roberts. And read every release they had before the ink was dry on the pages. Later on, I quickly tired of Regency romance, but then I read Carla Kelly and Mary Balogh. I still do, all these many books later.

Lesson #4: It's all about voice.

I read the Harry Potter books, but it could have been any series that grabbed hold and didn't let go. I didn't get it, you know, what the big deal was. Why my daughter-in-law and granddaughter lined up at midnight to get the latest release.

Lesson #5: It's all about story.

Nan Reinhardt is a very close friend. We have work days together. We travel together. We read each other's stuff. She has several series with Tule Publishing that that are set in a fictional town in Southern Indiana called River's Edge. I love River's Edge.

Lesson #6: The setting is a character.

I read every word by certain authors, Kristan Higgins being one of them. I could write a book on the things I love about her books, but then there'd be a chapter somewhere in the middle about things she wrote that I didn't like and plot points that didn't work for me. There are a couple of her releases I've only read once, not going back to find the warm places I like to read over again. But even if I'd hated them, which I most definitely did not, I would still start reading her next one the day it comes out, because that's how much I love her writing.

Lesson #7: The writer needs to love her story, but once it's out in the world, it's up to the readers what they make of it. What they love and what they don't. 

There are people who write scathing, damaging reviews on books they sometimes haven't even read. I have no answer as to why they do this. Nor do I have any intent of making excuses for them. I'm going to share two of my worst reviews here just for the sake of the lesson. 

"This was such a boring read. I seriously had a hard time getting into it. Was it me or was Syd always talking to herself? And I also wished the author made it easier to keep the characters straight. Too many names at once were just too confusing. And why did the chapters have to be so long? Oh, that made the read that much more daunting. Don’t authors know that it’s easier to read shorter chapters rather than longer ones? No, they have to go with 12 REALLY LONG and ENDLESS chapters!"

"I didn't really enjoy this book. It seemed rather childish. I don't get the five star rating others gave it but if you like really dumb stories - go for it!"

Lesson #8: Nothing. Nothing at all. Just keep writing. 

What about you? What lessons have you learned?