Since my new book came out on Tuesday, I thought I’d give everyone a sneak peek…

I’m surrounded by sweaty equivalents of the Jolly Green Giant, and the toad beside me doesn’t seem to realize this is not the fab fête he made it out to be. “Is the exciting thing we’re doing this?” I gesture to the court.

He winks at me.

“Look, Dave, sports are fun” — I have to suppress a shudder when I say this — “but not exactly exciting.”

“What are you talking about? This is probably the best game of the season.”

“Dave.” I wait until I have his full attention. “I know I’m using some two-syllable words here, so focus really hard. Sporting events are not, no matter who is playing, exciting.”

“But if the Bulls win this game, they go to the playoffs, and” — he gestures to the seats — “we’ve got the best seats in the house.”

Though I’m sure the effect of my expensive eyebrow wax is lost on him, I raise one of my perfectly arched brows. “If I am not mistaken, while you may consider basketball a way of life, the majority of the civilized world still considers it a sport and therefore it falls under the not exciting category.”

Okay, let me just point out here that I say this in my most scathing tone. And let me further point out that the big, dumb toad isn’t affected in the least.

He keeps smiling, leans over and says, “So Red, what are you trying to imply here?”

I stiffen. “Do not call me that. My name is Allison.”

“Maybe to the civilized world, but to a barbarian like me, you’re Red.” He strokes my hair, letting the sleek auburn sheet spill over his hand, then lifts my fingers and kisses them…what were we talking about?

Argh! The physical thing is the biggest problem with Dave. Whenever he touches me, a shiver runs all the way from my toes to the roots of my hair. Seriously, my hair tingles. No other guy has ever made the roots of my hair tingle. And that makes Dave very dangerous. I either have to make him over or get rid of him.

Neither idea seems tenable at this point. I’ve been sitting here all night contemplating my dilemma, and I’ve still got nothing. I gaze disinterestedly at the game. The score is pretty close. Rockets: 81. Bulls: 79.

The ref blows a whistle and play begins again. Othella Harrington takes the ball down the court, skillfully evading the Rockets’ defense. I scoot to the edge of the bench and crane my neck to see over the Goliaths in front of us.

Harrington nears the basket and turns to throw the ball, just as Yao Ming from the Rockets rushes by, collides with Harrington, knocking him over. Yao takes possession of the ball.

“What the hell!” I jump up and watch as Yao Ming dribbles the ball down to the Rockets’ side of the court and slam-dunks it. The Rockets’ side goes wild.

“Foul!” I yell. “That was a foul.”

Beside me, Dave yells, “I can’t believe this.”

In front of us Benny, the cute Bulls’ mascot, jumps up and down in frustration as play continues and the Rockets’ treachery goes unpunished. Then to add insult to injury, Clutch, the Rockets’ mascot, bounds over to Benny the Bull and points and laughs.

The Rockets Bear has to be the stupidest mascot of any NBA team. He’s gray with a big white muzzle and a goofy grin, and he’s dressed in a red and white jumper and big red shoes. Benny the Bull hangs his head.

“No, Benny,” I call. “Stand up to him.”

“Hey, Red — ” Dave begins.

Clutch wags his big red butt in poor Benny’s face, and that’s it. I slip off one of my deadly heeled Anne Klein slides and throw it as hard as I can at Clutch, hitting him square in the ass. He jumps, turns, and the crowd around me goes wild. Really wild.

Before I know what’s happening, there’s a shower of cups, plastic forks, wads of paper, and a big foam finger, raining down on Clutch.

The Bulls’ players part, and Clutch rushes forward screaming obscenities. Wow. I didn’t know mascots knew words like that. Then he bends down, reaching under the players’ bench and lifts a huge red and white cooler. He holds it over his head, pretending he’s going to drench us. By now the scene is being broadcast on the arena’s big screens, and the Rockets’ fans are cheering Clutch on.

All of a sudden, Benny pantomimes coming to our rescue, but as he rushes forward he trips over one of his big hoofs, stumbles, and knocks into Clutch.

“Oh, no,” Dave and I mumble as the contents of the cooler gush over our heads. People near us scramble to escape the wave of bright blue Gatorade surging from the cooler, and through the waterfall, I catch a glimpse of Dave and me on the big screens dominating the arena. It’s not pretty.

I wonder if Gatorade stains silk…

For another excerpt, check out www.shanebolks.com

Well, I’ve now had a chance to check out most of the new shows making the television rounds for the summer. I have to say, so far I’ve been pretty unimpressed. I thought Windfall had an intriguing premise, but the lackluster characters failed to draw me in and they lost me after episode two. Treasure Hunters turned me off when I realized it was another reality show. I can’t take all the yelling and the belittling treatment doled out by Chef on Hell’s Kitchen, and the Tuesday Night Book Club…well, my mother taught me if you can’t say anything nice…

On an up note, I have enjoyed the few episodes I’ve seen of America’s Got Talent. It reminds me of a cross between American Idol and the Gong Show, which I remember watching with my parents as a kid. And I’ve finally been able to catch up on all those missed episodes of The Office and Criminal Minds. (And may I say I am loving The Office! I’m rooting for Jim and Pam!) The good news is that the fall shows that have been previewed so far really look promising. Jericho, Kidnapped, Standoff, and Vanished all have me interested. (But what is it with the single-word titles? Sheesh!)

So, I’d be interested to know if anybody else has struck any television gold this summer. Anybody discover any good shows that I’m missing out on?

I’m just feeling sad this morning. Well, maybe that’s not the right word, not really sad, just wistful. Like you feel when a friend moves away or after a visit with your family. I know it’s really silly, but my mornings will never be the same. For the last eight years I’ve watched Good Morning America and I just love the interaction between Diane and Charlie (and now Robin). But Charlie is leaving. And yes, I know I’ll still get to see him, but only the more serious reporting side of him, not the family-loving, real, human side of him and I’m going to really miss him. So call me a sap, but it just feels like the end of an era. *sniff* *sniff*

This Friday we’re heading out of town for a nice and hopefully relaxing trip with The Professor’s family. We’re going to upstate New York to a family camp in Adirondak Park. Here’s a picture I found. When I get back, I’ll have some pictures of my own. I’m planning to get some writing done and some reading. Oh, to just read for a few hours at a time – what a luxury. We’re going to sit and look at the lake, some might get on the lake, but I’m a sit on the short kind of gal. I’ve seen Jaws one too many times. And yes, I realize it’s a lake, so the possibility of a great white being in there is incredibly small, but hey, stranger things have happened.

We’re driving up – another 16+ hour trip in the car. But we’ll be driving through parts of the country I’ve never seen, so I’m excited. We’re also staying Friday night with some friends of ours who currently live in the DC area, but are moving to Idaho soon. Well, technically they’re The Professor’s friends and I’ve only met the husband once (when he was in our wedding) I haven’t yet met the wife, but I’m really looking forward to it. So I can call them friends, don’t you think? In any case, it will be a nice way to break up the trip.

Then once we’re there, I’ll be able to talk wedding talk with my future sister-in-law and that is so cool. I so loved planning my wedding and looking at bridal magazines and all the fun that goes along with that. By the time my wedding arrived, I was so done being the bride and quite ready to just be the wife, but the planning was fun. I can say this now because I’ve had enough distance, but if any of my family or bridesmaids are reading this, they’re laughing hysterically because I certainly was not lacking in stress about that time. But in my defense, it wasn’t stress about the wedding, it was that looming deadline I had for my second book with Avon (due 2 weeks before I walked down the aisle). Regardless of my selective memory, I’m totally prepared to be the obnoxious seasoned wife and hand out useless (not to mention unwanted) advice to my brother-in-law’s fiancé.

And I’m almost done with my proposal (which hopefully will go in the mail before I leave town), in fact my chapters are with my critique partners right now. I’m still working on the synopsis, which is just not sounding right at the moment, but I’m confident I’ll work it out in the end. Okay, that’s a total lie, but who wants to hear a published author talk about their insecurities and neuroses? So I’ll pretend I’m confident and sure of myself and my ability. All right…I’ll stop rambling now. If any of you are still with me, then let me know if y’all are taking any trips this summer.

Not to toot my own horn (Wink-wink!) but Sins of Midnight hits shelves today along with Reality TV Bites by our very own Shane Bolks. Keep your eyes peeled!

My husband and I just came back from a long weekend on Mackinac Island. This is a pretty little island in northern lower Michigan (I know – sounds weird, but it’s right at the tip of the mitten) in the straits between the upper and lower peninsulas. The island is a quiet place – no cars are allowed, except for emergency vehicles, which don’t come out too often. There are lots of bicycles and horses (and for anyone who writes historicals, you need to think about the unequalled smell of horse p*ss. Manure is one thing, but the other is overwhelming! Luckily, they do hose down the streets when necessary).

My sister-in-law and her husband recently bought a house on the island, and invited all my husband’s siblings and their spouses for a visit. It’s a large house, so there was plenty of room for the twelve of us. I was a bit dubious about going – heck, what is there to do in such small quarters? The island is only about 8 miles around, and the one town – right at the docks – is Tourist Hell.

On Friday, Mike and I took a 3-mile hike through the woods along an escarpment high above the lake. This was through an area I had never visited before, because when we came in years past with our kids, we always took our bikes and did the ride around the perimeter of the island.

The next day, I needed to do some writing, so I sat on the big wraparound porch that overlooks the water, drank my coffee, and got my pages done. Then Mike and I took another hike. We started without a plan – he wanted to show me a building that was stained the way he thinks we should stain the cedar shakes of our house – so we walked down there and ended up taking most of the perimeter road.

After about 6 miles, we took a detour into the center of the island, all uphill, until we got to the old cemetery. There were lots of 19th century graves, and a compound that was once an old British fort. I guess there was a big battle fought here during the War of 1812 (utter stupidity, judging by the graves). Then we found a backwoods trail that led back to my sister-in-law’s house. All in all, we must have walked about 10-11 miles. Then we showered and walked another couple of miles into town to go to dinner and back.

We left Mackinac on Sunday, but not until we’d found another trail to take – that was maybe 5 or 6 miles. The weather was great for hiking – like maybe 75 degrees and breezy. At one point it started to drizzle, but that didn’t last. We took the 3:00 ferry and headed back to the car and listened to the last Harry Potter book on CD all the way home. It was a great weekend and I wish I had pictures, but the batteries in the camera were old and so that didn’t work out … But here’s a link to some pictures that are better than any I would have taken http://www.photosonmackinac.com/mackphotos/?Main=2&Cat=Summer+Scenes&CategoryID=14&sID=&uID=0

OK, so here’s the kicker. Yesterday morning, I checked my weight and I’d gained 2 lbs. over the weekend. My husband LOST 2 lbs! I ask you, how fair is that? We all ate the same stuff, and I gotta say, I never get this much exercise. Sure, I walk 2 miles every day, but come on!

I cannot win .

Heh, it’s official, I have hijacked the Jaunty Blog for a second time. And this time it’s for three whole weeks. Um, okay, it’s for three Mondays since I only have it hijacked on Anne Mallory’s days to post. Anne has gone away for a fabulous European Vacation (Chevy Chase not included) and left me to blog for her.

Heh, heh, heh. Of course that means I have to be clever three whole times, so maybe I’m the one who was had here, not Anne. Yeah, she’s probably off in some delightful place, just laughing her head off at me. That would be SO like her.

But I still must decide what in the world to talk about for three Mondays. I thought to spark some ideas I’d take a pass around some of my favorite blogs and see what everyone else was talking about. At Squawk Radio they’re talking about how boys are weird (especially when it comes to toilets). This is true. Something about the Y chromosome makes you a little… strange. But it gives you many other fine attributes, so we just don’t talk about the toilet thing in romances. It’s sort of like why our characters don’t go to the bathroom and we don’t talk about leg and underarm hair in historicals.

At Romantically Inclined, fellow Avon Author Mary Reed McCall is defining Gamma Heroes. Which is very useful. I think I do write more Gamma than Alpha after all. So now my entire self-image as a writer is smashed. Sigh. See what happens when you blog hop?

At BookEnds, LLC (a literary agent blog), they’re revealing some truly awful query letters. It makes me happy I don’t write these letters anymore. You just don’t realize how many things you do as a writer have nothing to do with writing. Anything I don’t have to do now makes me happy. Of course, I still have to do synopses. If I could work out a way to not do those, I’d be a happy camper. I mean, boiling down your 90,000 word story into 5 pages… yuck!!

My friend Megan Frampton is talking about getting rained on at a wedding. Which made me think of Alanis Morriset’s song “Ironic”. Alanis was college dorm ear food when I was a Sophomore in college (yup, just gave you my age, go do math) and that is an awesome CD. Of course, nothing she lists in the song “Ironic” is actually ironic. As a comedian once said… they’re all UNFORTUNATE, Alanis. Ironic is something else entirely. But I think that song goes to prove that you CAN sacrifice accuracy in some cases as long as the tune is catchy.

And finally, at Stuff on My Cat, people put stuff on their cats. And it’s soooo precious. I mention this just because it’s cute. And who doesn’t need a cute moment on Monday? Or Tuesday? Or at 3pm on a Thursday? You can’t ever get enough cute.

Okay, so that was my cheater post for this week. Give me some ideas of what to talk about next week. Or else you might end up with my long awaited Bryan Adams post. It’s not a threat, but…

Being a consummate perfectionist and procrastinator, deadlines help me overcome inertia and get going on a project, and keep going until I finish.

For the past couple years it seems I’ve been staggering from one deadline to the next, focusing my energies on manuscripts, proposals, revisions, promotion, etc. Housecleaning was way at the bottom of my list of priorities. Fortunately I’m married to a wonderful man who cooks. He also understands the importance of meeting contractually obligated deadlines. To free me to wrestle with my characters and plot, he took over much of my share of the household chores.

Those of you who are married know where this is going. I love my husband dearly, but his idea of housecleaning differs significantly from mine. When it comes to dusting, there’s a physiological difference between men and women — something about the rods or cones in our eyes that really does make it difficult for men to see the dust bunnies. But for the rest… he cleaned just enough to prevent disease and pestilence. I confess I didn’t do much better in keeping up with the mail. Sure, I separated the bills and set aside the catalogs and magazines for when I had more time to read. But we’re on the mailing lists of far too many companies that send us “special offers.” And we don’t get just one — because of our businesses and volunteer positions, we get up to five of every offer.

A couple weeks ago, I finished the manuscript and edits and proposal and all that other stuff. While I wait to hear back from my editor, this is a perfect time to do all the things I said I’d do when I had more time. I’ve been working on it a bit here and there, filling paper sacks with junk mail to recycle, and running the shredder overtime to get rid of all those credit card offers and convenience checks. The yard is also calling to me. The roses desperately need to be pruned. At this rate, it would take me all summer to catch up.

Not acceptable. Not only do I need to get writing as soon as I hear from my editor, we needed to get everything up off the floor so we could have the carpet professionally cleaned. Our geriatric cat was fastidious — so much so, when he had the runs (which he frequently did as he neared the end) he didn’t want that mess in his litter box. He had favorite spots in the dining room and hall. We’ve missed having a feline about the house, but don’t dare bring another home until we have all trace of the scent gone. You’d think that would be enough incentive to get all this done quickly. But “quickly” is not a deadline.

Last Sunday I got a call from one of the young men who taught my husband when Mike joined the church last spring. His time serving as a missionary is up, and his parents are coming to pick him up this weekend. He asked if he could bring them by to meet us. I glanced around our still very cluttered home, gulped, and said, “Please do.” Instant deadline.

We’ve made amazing progress this week. I found stuff I didn’t even know I had lost. People who are always neat will never know this joy of discovery. I’ve even managed to change some of the décor and display my keychain collection. As of Saturday afternoon, the carpet was dry again and the furniture back in place. We’re not quite done — there are still a couple problem areas (like, um, my entire office) but at least we won’t be embarrassed when we open the door to our visitors Sunday afternoon.

Now the trick will be keeping things tidy.

It’s been a while since I’ve read a book that kept my interest from start to finish. I recently read Suzanne Enoch’s romantic suspense “Don’t Look Down” and couldn’t put it down. The heroine was non-traditional and spunky and the hero was to-die-for. Even though I normally don’t like romantic suspense all that much, I loved this book.

What book have YOU read recently that you couldn’t put down??

So Ultimate Sportsfan stepped away from the TV for a few minutes the other night—amazing considering that the Astros were playing—and I immediately jumped on the couch, snagged the remote, and turned the channel. I started watching this documentary about this guy who wanted to go on a date with Drew Barrymore. I think it was called My Date with Drew.

I should say that I don’t really watch TV very often because I’m more of a doer than an observer, and I get bored watching TV. This is probably a good thing. Otherwise there would be daily fights over the remote, being that USF wants to watch sports pretty much non-stop and I want to watch sports pretty much never.

So I started watching this documentary, and it was really cute. If you haven’t seen it, I won’t ruin the end, but it turned out to have a great message: “if you don’t take risks, you’ll have a wasted soul.”

Wow. I’m not sure what a wasted soul is, but I can certainly agree with taking risks. I’m not much of a risk-taker, but every once in a while something matters enough to me, and I go for it.

Becoming a successful published writer is at the top of that list. That was and is my date with Drew.

So maybe you don’t care about dating Drew Barrymore, but everyone has a dream, right? Everyone has something that they’re willing to risk it all for. What’s your date with Drew?

With the release of Sins of Midnight just five days away, I thought this might be a good time to share a few behind the scenes tid-bits about the writing of the book and the Daventry Sisters series in general. And–like Robyn yesterday–I’m cheating just a little. I originally posted this at Romantically Inclined during my week of guest blogging, though I’ve thrown in a few extra tid-bits. It just seemed appropriate for today, and I thought there may be some JQ visitors who missed it over at RI.

The Daventry Sisters series is set in London during the Regency period, and the idea for it stemmed from a desire that I had been nursing for quite some time to revisit my early childhood love of the mystery genre. I have always enjoyed reading romances that combine a love story with a strong mystery element, and those who have read my past books can attest to the fact that I have a tendency to veer a bit more toward the dark side in my own writing. But the Daventry Sisters trilogy is different from anything else that I have ever tackled before in that it is a mystery that lies at the heart of the three books and that links them together.

When Sins of Midnight begins, it has been four years since the murder of the notorious Marchioness of Albright at the hands of her lover, and her death has torn the fragile fabric of her family apart. Her three daughters–Jillian, Maura, and Aimee–have been shunned by society due to the scandal, and they are just now finding their way back to acceptance with the help of their mother’s old friend, the Dowager Duchess of Maitland. Yet Jillian, the eldest of the sisters, has never quite accepted the conclusion drawn by Bow Street as to what really occurred on the night her mother was killed. Too many pieces of the puzzle don’t fit, and she has begun to suspect that the man accused of the crime just might have been innocent. She is determined to get to the bottom of things. Having inherited an interest in the study of criminology from her scholar father, she has secretly assisted her father’s friend and Bow Street Runner, Morton Tolliver, in numerous cases. And when Tolliver brings Connor Monroe to her with a case that just may tie in to her mother’s death, she can’t resist the opportunity to investigate. Of course, Connor doesn’t believe that a woman should have any involvement in such a grisly business, and sparks ensue.

The mystery of their mother’s death will continue to unfold throughout all three books. Middle sister Maura’s story is up next. Recently re-titled Devil’s Temptation, it is tentatively scheduled for a May 2007 release. Much more prim and socially conscious than her elder sister, Maura is dragged into the investigation almost against her will. And when she is forced to pair up with the son of the man once accused of her mother’s murder…well, you can imagine! I’m really having fun with it. I hope that Sins of Midnight–as well as the next two books in the trilogy-will keep you turning the pages, trying to guess whodunit.

Here are a few interesting behind the scenes tid-bits:

–In my original proposal for the series, I planned to include some paranormal elements. In that version, the sisters possessed some very special talents that aided them in their investigations. Jillian could talk to the dead, Maura could see the future, and Aimee could heal people. But after discussing things with my editor, we decided that there was enough of a story without giving it a paranormal slant, so those plans were scrapped and the emphasis was given to the mystery.

–The study of crime scene investigative technique was still in its infancy in 1817, when this book is set. In fact, Jillian and her father are just a bit ahead of their time. Eugene Francois Vidocq of the elite French police was one of the first true pioneers in this area, and his life makes for some fascinating reading for those of us who enjoy the CSI television shows.

–Of all of my heroes–including those languishing in my old, unpublished manuscripts–Connor Monroe is my personal favorite. There is just something about a man who has overcome great odds to make something of himself. He also has the distinction of being the hero with the most number of name changes, LOL! He went from Brennan (Which is now the name of another character in the story) to Andrew, to Connor, to Connal, and finally back to Connor. Connor just seemed to fit him better than any of the others. It’s a wonder he doesn’t have multiple personality disorder!

–I made a conscious effort to spice this book up a bit from my last two, and Sins of Midnight contains some of my steamiest love scenes yet. I must say, I’m no Bertrice Small, but I’m pretty proud of myself.

–When I first heard the concept for SOM’s cover, I wasn’t sure what I thought. I couldn’t help but be wary, because it sounded so very different from the usual Avon cover. But the first time I saw it, I fell in love. Very dark, sensual, amd mysterious, I feel like it suits the tone of the book perfectly. It just goes to show you that different isn’t always bad.

–Throughout the early plotting stages of SOM, I had no idea who the murderer of Jillian’s mother would be. There were so many suspects that the possibilities were endless. As it was, the identity of the killer surprised even me. But don’t ask, cause I can’t tell.