My New Cover!

I just got my new cover for KNOWING THE SCORE recently and wanted to show you. I think it's one of my best covers yet.

And here's the back copy:

"Jewelry designer Ashley Craig snags an exclusive invite to the oh-so-posh Bella Florida Polo Club in order to "bump into"a world-renowned jewelry seller and wow him with her creations. Instead, she spies polo player Beckett Emery, who has a body designed to wow her..."

[Marie here: I would really have to agree that this male model has a body to die for.]

"The problem is that Mr. Polo-Playing Sexypants" [again, much agreement about the pants] "makes Ashley forget about her business proposal as well as everything else that doesn't involve Beck being stark naked. What's worse, he might think she was using him to get access to the club. Can she keep up with her fancy charade...without Beck knowing the score?"

Thank you, Art Department and Mr. Sexypants Model. Canada grows them well, don't you think?

5 Questions For... Vicki Batman

Today the Sizzling Pens would like to introduce author Vicki Batman.
Like her heroine, Hattie Cooks, in Temporarily Employed and Temporarily Insane, Vicki has worked a wide variety of jobs including lifeguard, ride attendant at an amusement park; a hardware store, department store, book store, antique store clerk; administrative assistant in a real estate firm, and a general “do anything gal” at a financial services firm. Born in Dallas, a graduate of Texas Tech, married to Handsome, has two big boys, two attention-demanding cats, and two poopies.

Recently, she sold “Charlie’s Friend,” a Happily Ever After to the September True Romance; “Christmas Ties” to the December True Romance; and “Wedding for Two” to the January True Love. Vicki would like to give away a copy of the September True Romance to one lucky commenter today.
Please welcome Vicki Batman!

1. How many manuscripts did you write before selling one?
Well technically, I haven’t sold a manuscript. I’ve sold three short stories to True Romance and True Love magazines. I have written three books which aren’t published as yet.

2. Which book/short story was your hardest to write and why?
Bad Dates was the hardest book to write. Not long after I began it, Handsome was diagnosed with stage 3 throat cancer. Everything pertaining to writing dropped. And this turned out to be a good thing. I read. I did Word Search, No Vowels incessantly. I took lots of on line classes. I gave myself the January 1 deadline (two months after the treatment ended) and started back up. What I found is the book sat in my head and percolated. So when the deadline rolled around, I was ready and then, it zinged. As for short stories, I’ve written a mess of them. Right now, I’m working on a magical erotic. The idea came into my head when at National. I woke up and said to my roommate, “ I think I have an idea for a story.” Then said, “By the light of the moon, by the light of the stars…” I outlined the story to her. She got up and tossed me a notebook, saying, “Get to work.” It’s completely different from the fun, humorous, witty shorts I’ve been sending to the Trues.

3. What do you think is the most difficult thing about being an author?
I think most of us would say selling.

4. What authors have most inspired your work?
I ADORE Dick Francis. Ravenously read Janet Evanovich. Early on, I read Georgette Heyer and Mary Stewart (Madam, Will You Walk With Me is calling for Brad Pitt to make into a movie in my opinion.) I love Linda Howard, Sue Grafton, Tess Gerritsen, and Jodi Picoult. I read a wide variety of books, but I’m not a huge otherworld person.

5. What am I working on now?
Several shorts -
“I Believe” - a magical erotic romance about a girl who's only hope to find her soul mate is doing the one thing she doesn't believe in -- her grandmother's magical chant.
“Kissing School” - a sweet short story about a girl who's boyfriend says she can't kiss. Her friend concocts a plan for kissing lessons with her cousin.
“Real Estate” - a woman wants to buy a condo owned by a boor, only maybe he isn't one after all.
And a Book -
Reunited - romance author joins forces with her new love's ex-wife to find him when he goes missing in Colorado.

Excerpt from Christmas Ties

Christmas shopping shouldn’t be so difficult.
“Surely, I’ll find something here,” I said over the phone to my roommate, Toni. I pushed a heavy glass door open. “My dad can be so hard to buy for. He has everything.”
Once inside, I found myself in the menswear section. I inhaled. The sights and sounds of Christmas wafted over and through me. Everywhere I looked perfect holiday decorations caught my eye. Packages were wrapped in metallic colored paper and tied with red bows. Silver and bronze garland had been looped in the escalator well. Matching wreaths hung from the walls. Something smelling like cinnamon and sugar tickled my nose. The sound system blasted carols, lifting me into a happy mood.
Countdown time: Four weeks to complete shopping, wrap-a-thon, and bake fest. First on the agenda: shopping.
Toni’s voice pulled me back to the present. “I always give my dad a Christmas tie. He gets a kick out of wearing it Christmas day.”
I shifted the phone to my other ear to study my to-buy-for list. “Oh, I can’t get my dad a tie. He has a bazillion.” My dad, a stock broker, wore one to work every single day. He’d arranged ties by color on the top of his dresser. The light from the ceiling fixture hit them just so, drawing the eye to one and then another and then another. “He probably has three hundred. A psychologist would label him an addict. For his last birthday, my sister, my mother, and I had all given him the same one. My dad laughed and laughed. I guess we all have the same taste when it comes to ties! So I want to avoid toppling into the trap. Never again.”
“I like ties. Men looked so sexy wearing them, especially with their shirt sleeves rolled up.”
“Same page here. I just want to find him something different.”
However, as I passed display cases of vibrant ribbons of silk lying on glass shelves, my eye strayed. Ties were seductively knotted around shirt collars, draped over mannequins, matched with silk pocket squares.
Shaking my head, for I did not want to go there, the thought “not a tie, not a tie” passed through my mind. Until the neatly arranged rainbow rows of dots, stripes, and solids beckoned me closer. The dark side seduced and something mystical propelled me to rove in that direction. I sighed like a chocaholic plastered to a candy store window. “Maybe I’ll get one after all. Phone you later.”
Disconnecting my call, I trailed my finger across a row, pausing at a pale yellow one -- the color of early morning sunlight. Diagonal stripes of sky blue and white woven in the finest silk -- absolute perfection. As I reached for my prize, another hand dove in and snatched it up.
“Hey.” I jerked to my right and pointed to the tie he held. “Excuse me. That’s mine.”
He shook his head no. “I saw it first.”
“No. I did. It’s for my father.”
“Sorry. It’s mine.” His hand smoothed over the tie he wore, identical to the one in his hand.
How odd. I narrowed my brow. “Why do you need two of the same tie?”
His glance dropped to his white shirt, then back to me. “I guess it does look funny. My dad liked mine and since he’s so hard to buy for--”
“You thought you’d surprise him with one for Christmas.”
“Well, yeah.” His devilish smirk showed off his straight white teeth. Spinning away, he said, “See ya.”
What a scumbag! He had my father’s Christmas present. My hands fisted at my side as I watched him weave around tables, heading toward the checkout counter. He robbed me and was not going to get away with it. Racing to catch up, I bumped accidentally into a customer and called a “sorry” over my shoulder as I sped past. When reaching the villain’s side, I tapped his shoulder. “Wait a minute, buster. That tie is mine.”
His tight gaze swept over my face which made me feel like a total idiot.
“You’ve got to be kidding. This one,” he waved it in my face, “is mine.”
All this ruckus for a tie? With a snort, I knocked his hand to one side. “If you’ll recall, you rudely snatched it from under my nose.”
“Did not---“
“Did too.”
Nose to nose we glared at each other like two arched cats ready to scratch and claw. Our chests heaved. Our steely-eyed stares deeply penetrated through each other to our spines. Claws distended. Heat, not just the kind from anger, but the lightening-hot voltage powered by attraction also surged between us as our eyes met. Sizzles pricked my skin. The awareness baffled me, sending my hand to rub my temple.

Copyright by True Romance Magazine, a Dorchester Media, LLC.

Bear With Me, Please!

After spending the weekend in the hospital-- and being able to do nothing this week but sit on my butt and go to the doctor-- I'm not loaded with scintillating topics for blogging. So, instead, I thought I'd show off my new pretty-- my first cover writing as Tessa Adams for NAL!!!! Isn't it pretty????? This is for my first paranormal novel, Dark Embers, which kicks off the Dragon's Heat series-- a series about, obviously, Dragon Shapeshifters. Book One is about Dylan (the very reluctant Dragonstar King) and his search for a mate-- and a cure for the disease ravaging his clan. Below is the back cover blurb, along with a short excerpt from the book. I hope you enjoy :)

King Dylan MacLeod is one of the last pure-bred dragon shapeshifters in existence—and ruler of a dying race, the Dragonstar clan. It falls to him to protect his people—and their ancient magic. He has one more duty: to provide an heir.

Like all dragons, Dylan can only procreate with his destined mate—for whom he’s searched for five hundred years. His dark, rampant sexual appetite has earned him quite the reputation, all in the pursuit of his one true match.

But his search is delayed when a deadly disease sweeps through the Dragonstars, and Dylan must venture to the human world to find a cure. He tracks down renowned biochemist Phoebe Quillum, never imagining the beautiful scientist will be the mate he’s been seeking for centuries. But no sooner do they meet then Phoebe and Dylan are besieged by an obsessive, overpowering sexual desire.

Their passion turns to something truer—and they know in their souls and bodies that they’re in too deep to get out. And when Phoebe is kidnapped by Dylan’s oldest enemy, he must risk everything to reclaim the only woman he’s ever loved, or his clan will be wiped out forever.

Excerpt

Dylan tossed back two fingers of the eighteen-year old Sazerac Rye Marta had gotten him for his birthday, downing it like it was water and barely noticing the burn as it whipped down his throat in a cacophony of flavors. He stared at the tall, skinny bottle and tried not to think of how much he wanted another drink.
As the image of his sister’s funeral pyre rose up in his mind—red-hot and glowing and so very, very final-- he gave up the fight and poured another three fingers.
“Uncle Dylan?” He turned to find Lana staring at him with tear-filled purple eyes so much like her mother’s that it made his brain bleed just to look at her. When her lower lip trembled just a little—as if her ability to hold things together was disintegrating rapidly—he did the only think he knew to do. He opened his arms. She flew into them, sobbing.
Heart hurting, desperation and guilt violent beasts churning within him, he held his niece while she cried and tried to figure out what the hell he was supposed to do now. His sister was dead, his second-in-command shattered. And his niece, the person next in line for the throne, was crying inconsolably. He had no idea how to make things better, especially since Marta’s death had left a hole the size of his fist where his heart had been.
He hated the uncertainty, the confusion, the fear that he wasn’t cut out to be king. Unlike his father, who had been born to wear the crown, Dylan couldn’t help struggling under its weight. His father had never hesitated. He’d never been uncertain— lately, Dylan had a hard time being anything but.
Once, Dylan had been like his father, certain that his way was the right one. But that was before he’d watched his brother’s murder, before he’d seen his parents die of broken hearts. No, those times were long gone and as his world fell apart around him again, he wanted nothing more than to scream for a little help.
A life preserver.
Something, anything, to stop the nightmare—or at least put it on hold for a little while.
But real life didn’t work that way. His entire clan was looking to him for guidance and he couldn’t let them know that he was suddenly as unsure as they were.
He cradled his niece for a long time, rocking her and murmuring soothing noises that needed no translation. She cried for what seemed like forever as his fragmented heart broke just a little more in empathy for her. When Lana’s sobs finally gave way to little mewls, he thought he’d be relieved. But the sound strained his already aching conscience to the breaking point.
“Come on, baby.” He lifted her into his arms, and though she was nearly fifty--almost a full-grown dragon—she curled into him like the little girl she used to be.
“Where’s Gabe?” he demanded of Logan, one of his sentries, as he carried his exhausted niece through the labyrinth of passageways that made up so much of the cave he called home. It was beautiful, like so many of New Mexico’s underground caverns--filled with truly exquisite rock formations and speleothems that never failed to take his breath away, even after all these years.
But today he wasn’t thinking of the cave—or the magnificent, natural art inside of it —as he strode toward the guest room he knew Lana liked best. Today, he was trying to figure out how to stop this damn disease, so that no one else had to suffer like his niece and her father were suffering.
“I don’t know.” Logan—one of his best and strongest sentries-- walked next to him, fading behind only when the passageways got too narrow for more than one person to squeeze through. “But he’s in bad shape, Dylan. I don’t think he can help her much.”
Of course he wasn’t in any shape to help his daughter—Dylan hadn’t even considered suggesting it. The man had just lost his wife, his mate. But he shouldn’t be wandering around the desert alone. He should be there, with them, where Dylan could ensure he was safe.
“Find him.”
“Are you sure--Dylan pinned the other man with a look that could have melted rock—or at least
one stubborn dragon hide—but didn’t say a word. He didn’t have to. His wasn’t a monarchy that required his subjects to bow and scrape, particularly not his sentries-- who were as close to him as brothers-- but at the same time he didn’t put up with shit when he felt strongly about something. And right now he felt very strongly that Gabe should be here, with them, not out licking his wounds and looking for a fight—or worse-- to ease the pain.
“All right then. I’m on my way.” Logan did a quick about face, headed back the way they’d come.
“Take Liam with you. And tell the rest of them to meet me in the War room. I want to talk to everyone.”

And the winner is...

The winner of Denise McDonald's print release of SECOND CHANCES is Anonymous kh

Forbidden Available TOMORROW

Yep it's blatant promo going on today as I get ready for the release of Forbidden from Samhain Publishing tomorrow.

EDITED TO ADD: Forbidden is available right now at the MBAM bookstore. Yay!!

Here's the blurb. Click the link above and you can find an excerpt.


He always wanted what he couldn’t have…

Playing With Fire, Book 1

Forbidden desires, secret needs…that’s not what girls are made of. At least, that’s what Michaela’s past boyfriends told her when she revealed her darkest, dirtiest fantasies. She knows she’s better off without the exes, but she’s lonely—and horny. It doesn’t help that her roommate, Austin, is the most gorgeous man she’s ever laid eyes on. Too bad he’s bisexual…or so he says.

There’s a reason Austin hasn’t been with a woman in a long time. The only one he wants is Michaela. He’s fought his attraction for months, waiting for a sign, desperate to show her she’s everything he wants in a lover. One illicit kiss leads to an explosive night of sex that leaves her wanting more—yet afraid. But Austin is a patient man, more than willing to tear down her boundaries piece by piece. Exposing her to pleasures she’s never known.

Trust leads her to whisper her most deeply held fantasy. One that rouses a new emotion Austin didn’t expect: jealousy. Possessiveness. He’s the only man he wants in her life. And he’ll do whatever it takes to prove it…

I'm having a contest at my blog for my readers - giving away a pretty necklace to one lucky commenter! Go here to leave a comment. Contest closes tomorrow night!

Brande at Book Junkie is giving away a copy of Forbidden! Check out her interview with me and answer the question in the comments to enter to win! Go here to enter.

So go forth and enter!

5 Questions For...Denise McDonald

Today the Sizzling Pens welcome romance author,Denise McDonald.
Denise is the author of six books with Samhain Publishing: The Cowboy Plan; Second Chances; Trading Faces; The Inn Crowd; Deadly Mistakes; and Her Passion as well as one book with Cobblestone Press: Ghost of a Chance; all available now.
She started her writing career at the tender age of eight. Her stories have changed over the years, but not her love for telling tales. She lives in Texas with her husband, four young boys and two dogs where she juggles her time between writing, carpool, Cub Scouts, sports galore and a multitude of crafts.
To learn more please visit her website at: www.denisebelindamcdonald.com or send an email to her at: denise@denisebelindamcdonald.com. This month Second Chances was released in print from Samhain Publishing! I’d like to give away a print copy to one of the commenters.

1)How many manuscripts did you write before you sold one?

I wrote my first two manuscripts (longhand) when I was pregnant with boy #4. At the time I knew not the first thing about the publishing world. Over the next year I inputted them into the computer and edited (and edited and edited) and joined RWA. Shortly there after, I wrote another book after a retreat with my RWA chapter. Once it was polished, as well as one of the first novels, I sent them off and eventually sold them both (the other book will never see the light of day *VBG*). So, I guess long answer short 3.

2)Which book was your hardest to write and why?
Hardest to write. Hmm. Probably the one that won’t see the light of day. It was all over the place with the “rules” and while it’s a complete story, I think it’d be too much work to get it to a saleable piece. I think of it as my practice manuscript as I was still getting my rhythm as a writer.

3)What do you think is the most difficult thing about being an author?
Patience. Absolutely. The writing is the fun part and I enjoy it more than I can say. The publishing process, the waiting around while you shop things… that’s rough.

4)What authors have most inspired your work?
From the get go, Nora Roberts, Mary Higgins Clark and Karen Robards. I have been writing in one form or another since elementary school, but when I read those ladies, I realized I wanted to tell stories like theirs. I like the way they piece together the characters lives and draw the reader along for the ride.

5)What are you working on now?
I have just completed an armature sleuth book (hoping to make it a series)—a slight departure from my romance novels. I have finished the first book and have started on the second. I will be polishing it up and sending that puppy out soon. I am still writing romance novels too, but it was fun to work on a character that falls into all sorts of trouble.

Excerpt: SECOND CHANCES

With one finger, he pushed the Stetson back on his head. A wisp of dark brown hair fell from under the hat.
“Ma’am. Is there something we can help you with?” he asked; his dark, dark brown eyes softened as he smiled at her. They were the eyes that had haunted her dreams since coming to Paintbrush.
“I…ah.” All of a sudden her breath caught and her knees jellified. Weak-kneed. She couldn’t believe it. She’d read about that flaw of damsels in romance novels, but she’d never actually known anyone afflicted by it.
No man had ever made her want to collapse in a heap onto the ground, much less had she ever been rendered stupid. Zan cleared her throat, “I’m looking for Doc. She asked me to drop something off for her.”
“Ah, yes, you must be Suzanne Walters, the wonder assistant.” An odd look crossed his face, but he immediately hid any and all expression, making his face neutral. He leaned forward, extending his hand. “I’m Jacob Bowman, the ranch foreman. And this is Hank Calhoun.”
She stared at Jacob, then her manners kicked in. She reached out and gripped his calloused hand and took a long deep breath—musky. She fought off a moan as warmth shot up her arm and she let go abruptly. “Zan.”
“Excuse me?” Jacob’s forehead scrunched.
“Please call me Zan. It’s short for Suzanne.”
“Zan it is. Doc’s up at the house. Lisa made them take the pup up to her room.”
“Thanks.” Zan left the two men standing by the barn. When she stepped up on the porch leading to the house, she turned to find them both staring at her with openly curious gazes. Her stomach did a little flop and heat crawled up her face as her eyes locked with Jacob’s chocolate brown gaze. A charming grin spread across his face and he tipped his hat.
“They don’t grow them quite like that in Texas,” she said under her breath, pulling the door open. “Too bad I’ve sworn off men,” she reminded herself.

“Damn, what a looker, that one.” Hank nudged Jacob.

Jacob hadn’t moved since one Miss Suzanne call-me-Zan Walters had disappeared into the Cates’ house. He’d dreamed about the woman every night since she blew past him at the diner.
Clad in a pair of tan pants and one of the funky hospital-type shirts all the vets wore, she shouldn’t look sexy as hell, but she did. The red highlights in her hair shone like fire in the setting sun, more so than the first time he saw her. Hair that still looked wild and arousing, like it might look after spending the night in bed. He could barely contain the groan that wanted to escape.
Had Jacob detected a flash of wonder in those gray eyes of hers when she looked at him—almost as if she’d been surprised and happy to see him? That was just stupid. He didn’t know her from Eve.
He sure as hell never imagined she was Doc’s new assistant.
When Hank nudged him again, somehow Jacob managed to find a small amount of composure and tore his gaze away from the back door.
“What’s gotten into you, boy? Never seen you dumbstruck before.” Hank’s voice was filled with amusement.
“Nothing.” Jacob couldn’t believe what the brief encounter with Suzanne—Zan—did to him. He’d fantasized about her for two weeks, and then to see her standing in front of him, he didn’t know how he’d managed to stay on his feet.
Shaking clear his thoughts, Jacob stalked past the old hand. “I need to head out to the back pasture. Willard thinks a fence may have gone down.”

Panic Attacks

Up until recently, I was never someone who suffered from panic attacks. I've always been the calm one, the one who takes things in stride and lets life take care of itself. That was until 2 weeks ago when everything started falling apart.

It started with a 3-book proposal to my editor which...well...got raked over the coals. From that point on, I've been staring at my WIP having no clue as to how to write it. Seriously. In fact, there was one day when I was physically sick worrying about the deadline and how I would make it if I couldn't get over this angst.

Slowly, it is coming together, and the more I write, the better I'm feeling. But it's an odd thing to happen when one is writing their 9th contracted book. You'd think by now I'd be running on cruise control, but that's not how writing works.

But while the writing is improving, I'm still finding myself waking up in the wee hours of the morning, staring into the dark and lying sleepless in bed worrying about all kinds of crazy things. The other night, I laid awake worrying about the day 4 years from now when my son and all his friends start driving. I worried that the company I work for is going to go under. I worried about my husband going back to work at a car dealership and us never seeing each other again. And that was just during the hour between 1 and 2.


My father-in-law once said, "Everything's louder at night". I find that so true. Even when I'm not suffering with writer's anxiety and life is smoothing along fine, I have been known to wake up in the middle of the night with all kinds of wild ideas in my head. I've woken up furious over my kid's sports, getting billed for something I've already paid, a comment someone made at work, or fearing that my neighbor will build something crazy on her side of the fence. They're often stupid, irrational things that my right mind even tells me are silly at the time. And like clockwork, when I finally do fall back to sleep and wake up the next morning, I feel completely relaxed and at ease, wondering to myself what all that midnight fuss was about.

I'm thinking it's my age. I'm only 3 years from 50 and have decided that when a woman turns my age, our hormones go into teenager mode again--as if that was the spectacular time in our lives we'd really like to relive.

So tell me, is this just me? Should I see a shrink about medication or have you all, at times, had irrational fears over things you later shrug off as temporary insanity?