Love and Murder

Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day. So I thought I’d do a little research on the history of Valentine’s Day.

The Catholic Church dropped “St. Valentine’s Day” from its calendar in 1969 because “St. Valentine” may not have existed (and saints are real people who we are supposed to learn from and emulate.) Valentine may have been a combination of people and myths, including a priest who helped persecute Christians during the reign of Claudius II; a Catholic bishop who was beheaded; and a priest who secretly married couples who had been forbidden to marry.

If I wrote erotic romance, I think the story that would interest me the most would be about the Roman festival of Lupercalia. For over 800 years, the Romans dedicated this festival to their god, Lupercus. On Lupercalia, a young man would draw the name of a young woman in a lottery and would then keep the woman as a sexual companion for a year.

But since I write romantic suspense, the story that intrigued me the most involved betrayal and murder. Emperor Claudius II decided that single men made better soldiers than married men. Therefore, he outlawed marriage for all young men. Valentine, a priest, saw that this was morally wrong and secretly married young couples. As with any secret, the more people who know, the less likely the secret will keep. When Valentine was discovered, Claudius put him to death.

Since most myths are based in some truth, I can’t help but try to guess how this may have played out. Perhaps Valentine counseled a couple and deemed them unfit for marriage. The woman in a rage went to Claudius and told the emperor about Valentine’s illegal weddings. Or perhaps a father, furious that his son defied the emperor, betrayed and trapped Valentine. Or maybe Claudius’s own daughter used Valentine’s services . . .

Which brings me to love . . . and murder. Love makes people crazy at times. We do things we may never do in the name of love. On the positive side, we’re willing to die for those we love. We would sacrifice our life to save our loved one. We’d defend him publicly, stand by his side against strife. We would protect our children at all costs. In wedding vows, we agree to love our spouse “for better or worse.”

When does love turn to murder? Or was it ever love to begin with? I think back to THE PERFECT HUSBAND by the incomparable Lisa Gardner and to this day I remember the opening where he’s watching the woman he plans to make his. Love? Obsession? How can you even tell?

There’s the mother who “loved” her cheerleader daughter so much that she began to kill the competition. The woman who “loved” her husband so much she slowly poisoned him to death. The man who “loved” his girlfriend to such an extreme that any other man who looked at her became a threat to be handled. Permanently.

The flip side of love is obsession. When does it change? Or, perhaps, is it that some people are incapable of true love, that all their feelings become obsessive? Is it DNA or environment? Nature or nurture? A combination of both?

Because no one would be able to convince John Hinckley that he didn’t love Jodie Foster.

Reality provides so many stories for writers. In SPEAK NO EVIL, I very loosely used the true crime case of Taylor Behl. For those who don’t remember, she was the University of Richmond freshman who disappeared over Labor Day in 2005. Her much-older ex boyfriend, photographer Ben Fawley, was the primary suspect, but the police had no body and no proof.

Taylor had a blog where she talked about a wide variety of subjects, including sex. Her online name was “tiabliaj”–”jailbait” spelled backwards. That alone provided the press a sensational angle on the case.

In SPEAK NO EVIL, the first victim of my killer had an online sex diary. Far more explicit than Taylor. But my victim believed she was anonymous. That no one would find out her true identity. As a mother, I fear that too many young people see cyberspace as a place to dump everything, when in fact they should be as cautious as when they meet a stranger on the street.

Taylor’s killer was eventually caught and justice was served. And because I write romantic suspense, justice is also served in my books. It isn’t always that way in real life. Look at Adam Walsh. Though there’s a lot of speculation, his killer never stood trial for his crimes.

And it’s always more tragic when love turns to murder, when the ones we trust the most betray us in the worst, most final way.

That’s why I don’t write straight suspense. I need hope in the future, and the best way for that is to find two people who should be together, who need happiness, and let them fall in love.

One lucky reader will be randomly selected from the comments to win an early copy of the second book in this exciting series, SEE NO EVIL. For more info on Allison and her books, visit her blog.

Have you seen that new Sonic commercial? The one with the couple enjoying the Sweetheart Blast, or whatever the dessert is this month? They’re having a great time, and then I think it’s the guy who says that they better enjoy it now because later they’re picking out wallpaper.

He says (and this is totally a paraphrase), “I’m so going to yell at you.”
She says, “Things from the past will be brought up.”
He says, “So much darkness.”
And she says, “But not now.”

And they smile and enjoy the ice cream.

Ultimate Sportsfan and I love that commercial. It’s not often that we both like the same commercials—he’s partial to those Geico cavemen commercials and I like anything with a cute animal in it.

But we both like that commercial because we can relate. Why is it that the smallest things, like picking out wallpaper, can create the biggest fights?

For USF and I, it’s not wallpaper (but maybe that’s because we’ve never picked out wallpaper), but money. We did our taxes recently and let me tell you, no fun!

It’s bad enough having to hand money over to the government, but it’s worse when you’re mad at your spouse, too.

Fortunately, USF and I don’t stay mad at each other for long. In fact, pretty much as soon as we closed Turbo Tax, we were over the arguments.

So, what about you? Who do you fight with? What do you fight about? What’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever fought about?

And scroll down to read about how Jenna Petersen parties down.

It’s really easy, so I figured I’d post it here. I got it from Real Simple magazine, which is the best magazine in the history of the world. I read it from cover to cover:

1 3.5-4lb chicken, cut into pieces
3 tablespoons of olive oil
2.5 teaspoons kosher salt
3/4 teaspoon black pepper
1.5 lbs red or new potatos, cut into 1.5 inch pieces
3 sprigs fresh rosemary

Heat over to 400. Rinse the chicken and pat it dry with papertowels. Place in roasting pan. Drizzle with 1 tablespoon of the oil and season with 1.5 teaspoons salt and 1/2 teaspoon of the pepper. Rub to coat. In a large bowl, combine the potatos, rosemary and remaining oil, salt and pepper. Scatter the potatos around the chicken (put under if they won’t fit around). Roast until the chicken is cooked through and a thich registers 180 degrees F on a meat thermometer. About 45 minutes.

And it comes out golden and delicious. This is one of my favorite, favorite new recipes.

On Friday, I finished my big personal revision of my first 2008 historical (which is tentatively titled, The Promise of Pleasure)! Now it’s with a friend, but barring her telling me that the book totally sucks and that I’ve lost my mind by thinking that it’s up to snuff, I will be turning it in some time this week. So how will I celebrate?

1. Jamaica. Oh wait, I already did that when I finished the first draft. Dang! I guess I’ll just look at the pictures again and sigh while the snow comes down outside my window.
2. Read a book. I’m really, really hoping to get to Kathryn Smith’s Night of the Huntress, which has been sitting on my nightstand for about a week now just waiting for me!
3. Make Dinner. We’ve been living on ‘Honey, can you pick up…’ since we got back, so tonight I’m making Golden Chicken with Red Potatos. Mmmmmm. And maybe a dessert since we’re having friends over.
4. And then, there’s the NEXT thing… Unfortunately, this celebratory fun and frolic cannot last for long. This week I’ve got to do an editorial revision (although it’s only a very few small things) on my November Jess Michaels’ release, Everything Forbidden and get some prep work done on the follow-up, tentatively titled Something Wanton, because SW is due May 1.

So what do you do when you want to party hard with limited time? Any suggestions on more things I should do? Or want to tell me I’m crazy for picking this schedule? It didn’t seem like such a bad idea when I did it…

On one of our local radio stations, they were talking about the names people give their cars. I know my husband has named different vehicles…we once had an old Suburban that he christened “Big Brown.” We haven’t had that truck in 15 years, but when he was telling our daughter about seeing it…she said “You saw Big Brown?” lol

Even though I’ve never personally named one of my cars, in my August book, The Tycoon’s Son, I have the heroine dub a SMART car “Gladys.” Perhaps a name for my own car is coming soon….

Have you ever named a car/truck? Inquiring minds want to know….

Since so many people participated and I had so many wonderful and helpful comments, it was hard to choose just one winner, so I decided to give away two signed ARCS. And they go to Manuelita and Jillian! Congrats to you both! If you could e-mail me with your snail mail addys at kimberlylogan90 at aol.com (Insert @ where appropriate) I’ll get them mailed out to you right away.

Thanks to all for your comments.

Well, it’s time to break out the sunscreen and mouse ears! That’s right. In a little over a week, I’ll be headed for sunny Florida and that mecca for mouse lovers everywhere–Walt Disney World! Now, regular visitors here already know just how much I LOVE Disney. (In fact, some might say that my love for the land where Mickey dwells borders on a rather frightening obsession, but I say pooh to them! No pun intended, of course. ) It has been several years since I last embarked on what I would term a “real” vacation, so I am particularly thrilled.

As a regular Disney visitor in the past, I pretty much already have my favorite things that I know I want to make a point of doing. Tower of Terror and Rock n Roller Coaster are simply musts, and I want to make sure that my nephews and I spend a little time exploring Tom Sawyer Island at Magic Kingdom. I have also always enjoyed shopping until I drop at World of Disney at the Marketplace. Of course, my three favorite restaurants are high on my to-do list: The Sci-Fi Dine-In, San Angel Inn, and Planet Hollywood. But as it has been some time since I was last there and Disney has a way of constantly changing, I am wondering what new and exciting things there are for me and my family to do.

So, any fellow Disney fans out there who have suggestions? What rides should I check out? What restaurants are favorites with you? What other attractions are in the Orlando area or Florida in general that are of interest? After all, you never know when I might decide to make a little side trip. And for those of you who have no advice, but just want to wish me a safe trip, that’s okay too.

And in celebration of my pilgrimage to the House of Mouse, I am having a special contest for today only. One lucky commenter will receive a signed ARC of my upcoming May release, The Devil’s Temptation. (You can check out an excerpt on my website!) The winner will be announced tomorrow morning. So comment away and good luck!

Somebody asked me recently what my favorite book is. Wow – how do you answer a question like that? My favorite classic? My favorite thriller? My favorite romance? My favorite author. Come on! How can I have just one of each?

Or which movie? Same problem. It’s like comparing apples to oranges. Historical epics don’t compete with thrillers, or war films with romance (not there there’s a war film that I would ever classify as a favorite. I just don’t get into them). And I have favorites from different eras, too. I love Bell, Book and Candle (with Kim Novak and Jimmy Stewart) but I don’t think it holds up that well today. I still like it, anyway.

Favorite kinds of clothes? Depends on the season and the occasion.

Favorite vacation spot? Favorite food? Favorite child – whoa, where did that come from? Favorite subject in school? Favorite pastime? Favorite store?

OK, I can say, unequivocally, that my favorite classic author is Charles Dickens. My favorite food is chocolate and I wish it truly were one of the main food groups.

I prefer casual dress to any other kind, no matter what the occasion. I got so accustomed to wearing scrubs at work, and now jeans to write, it’s hard to get used to anything else.

I love the Doobie Brothers and Mozart, but I might even like Vivaldi better than Mozart. I liked History best in school (after all my nursing courses) and my favorite pastime is reading, hands down.

So … Do you have any one thing that’s an absolute favorite?

Y’know how teen girls, and okay, adult ladies, tend to head to the restroom in groups? My eight-month-old male kitten has become an adolescent girl. Derby doesn’t want to go to the bathroom by himself. Just because Dakarai is asleep is no reason for Derby to have to go by himself – he comes to get me.

Both our kittens are affectionate. While Dakarai loves to be picked up and held and will cuddle and lick (grooming us) for minutes on end, Derby prefers that you simply pet him. He’ll tolerate being picked up for a few seconds, maybe a minute or two if you’re lucky, but then he wants down, now. So when Derby starts wrapping himself around my ankles, nudging my hand until I pet him and making little mewling noises, I know what he wants. If I’m slow on the uptake, distracted by whatever task I’m doing, he’ll stretch up on his back legs to pat me on the butt. He doesn’t want me to hold him, he wants me to accompany him to the bathroom.

So there I am, standing in the doorway of the hallway bathroom, watching the red tabby eat kibble. And drink water. And look up at me from time to time, reassuring himself I’m still there. Of course I can’t resist petting him in those moments, which he gracefully accepts. Sometimes he finishes doing his business but doesn’t want our special alone time to end, so he’ll jump up on the counter or into the tub. Since we have a shower stall in the master bath the tub only gets used a few times a year, so it’s become a playground for the kittens. (Letting them play pinball seemed a great idea until they started doing it at 4 a.m., when even I am usually trying to sleep.)

It’s kind of annoying. I have a seemingly never-ending to-do list, and here the cat wants me to drop everything to … watch … him … eat. He never asks my husband to go with him, just me. Even if Mike is already in the bathroom, Derby still comes to get me. If I don’t acquiesce, his mewling gets louder and more persistent with a distinct mournful edge that’s heartbreaking. You’d think he was being tortured or starved.

It’s kind of adorable, too. Derby prefers me, not my husband. He trusts me to keep him company. He returns the favor, too – even if I’m just brushing my hair in our bathroom, which does not have the kibble or water dish or litter box, I’m never alone in there for more than a few seconds. A friend explained that Derby considers me part of his pack, and the pack sticks together. Which may be why I find him asleep at my feet more often these days, or curled up against the back of my legs at night. He likes to be near, just not necessarily within petting distance.

Instead of getting impatient, thinking of all the things I could or should be doing instead of watching the cat eat, I’m trying to be a bit zen about it. I have the TV Guide crossword puzzle and a pencil in there, various magazines, a book or ten. (It’s nicknamed The Library for good reason.) I’ve organized the medicine cabinet and thrown away everything that was a year beyond its expiration date. Soon I might even dust the light fixtures and clean the mirror. After I’ve solved 18 Down and 29 Across…

Scroll down to read about Jenna’s Jamaica vacation.

A week ago I was here:

And I was doing this:

Yes, I know that may be rubbing it in a bit, but if it makes anyone feel any better the temperature in Illinois right now is in the teens with wind chill that dips below zero on a regular basis. And my tan is starting to fade. Well, my freckle. I don’t really tan.

But how was the trip, that is the question. And the answer is… lovely. I didn’t do anything. Nothing. We didn’t go to Dunn’s River Falls, we didn’t rent water bikes, we didn’t snorkel. I didn’t even read any of the four or five books I brought with me. I did nothing.

This is a huge accomplishment for me. My nature is to do. I don’t like going to movies in the theatre because it seems like I should be doing something while I’m watching the movie. I’m forever multitasking and feel weird when I am just sitting.

All my natural inclinations were tossed out the window in Jamaica. I laid on the beach or by the pool or in the jacuzzi and I did… nothing. I slept a lot. I watched waves come up on the sand. On the last day we went out in a glass bottom boat for about twenty minutes and did an hour of shopping in a nearby plaza. But that is about it. I needed it.

And now that I’m sitting back in my office, a manuscript sitting in piles on my desk and covered in purple pen, a set of revisions in my inbox waiting to be dealt with, a book due March 1st and another due May 1st that I haven’t even started… I’m thinking there may be something to this resting thing.

So what do you do on vacation? Are you a doer or a rester? And does anyone know when the next flight leaves for Montego Bay???