Because Sunday is Mother’s day, I thought it only appropriate to list some words of wisdom from Erma Bombeck.

We all know that being a Mom is the hardest, most rewarding job on the face of this Earth.
“You don’t love me!”

How many times have your kids laid that one on you?

And how many times have you, as a parent, resisted the urge to tell them how much?

Someday, when my children are old enough to understand the logic that motivates a mother, I’ll tell them…

I loved you enough to bug you about where you were going, with whom and what time you would get home.

I loved you enough to insist you buy a bike with your own money, which we could afford, and you couldn’t.

I loved you enough to be silent and let you discover your hand picked friend was a creep.

I loved you enough to stand over you for two hours while you cleaned your bedroom, a job that would have taken me 15 minutes.

I loved you enough to say, “Yes, you can go to Disney World on Mother’s Day.”

I loved you enough to let you see anger, disappointment, disgust, and tears in my eyes.

I loved you enough not to make excuses for your lack of respect or your bad manners.

I loved you enough to admit that I was wrong and ask for your forgiveness.

I loved you enough to ignore “what every other mother” did or said.

I loved you enough to let you stumble, fall, hurt, and fail.

I loved you enough to let you assume the responsibility for your own actions, at 6, 10, or 16.

I loved you enough to figure you would lie about the party being chaperoned, but forgave you for it…after discovering I was right.

I loved you enough to shove you off my lap, let go of your hand, be mute to your pleas and insensitive to your demands…so that you had to stand alone.

I loved you enough to accept you for what you are, and not what I wanted you to be.

But most of all, I loved you enough to say no when you hated me for it. That was the hardest part of all.
Erma Bombeck

My mother (who died in 1990) gave me the gift of self-confidence. She was always my staunchest champion and my best friend. Now, I have the same close relationship with my daughter.

What did your mother teach you?

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For your end of the week pleasure…

Wishing everyone a happy weekend!!!

We interrupt your regularly scheduled blog for this special announcement. Let’s all make a toast.

Oops, not that kind of toast, how about this one.

Yes, that’s the right one. All right everyone raise your glass and throw chocolate in the air (the small kind so no one gets hurt) because our very own Anne Mallory is officially a USA Today Bestselling Author. Woot! Woot! Woot!

Now back to your regularly scheduled blog and Margo’s inspiration…

Did I catch your attention? Well, my inspiration is not Fabio. And I have a hard time understanding how he ever made it onto the covers of all those books. Well, I guess those abs and shoulders might have done it … but I don’t think I read a single one of them.

But enough about past cover models.   When I write, I usually have a conglomeration of faces and body types in mind for my main characters … more often, it’s of the hero, although I always have at least a vague notion of who the heroine is. For my next book, Wild, the hero is a young man who was lost in Africa while on safari with his father at age eleven. Twenty years later, he returns to England, and must be taught the ways and manners of polite society. In order to receive his father’s title, he will have to prove that he is truly the heir.

But that’s another post altogether. Anyway, this is the way this hero has gelled in my mind.

He’s rough around the edges when he arrives in London, and it falls to the heroine to tutor him. There are lots of reasons why she’s the one who must do it, and she is none too happy about it.  She has learned to cloak herself in cool propriety in order to protect herself from the injuries the world has caused her,  but his casual attitudes threaten that proper distance she tries to keep between them. 

My wild man has his own issues, too. He can’t let himself trust anyone – after all, in his memory, he was abandoned in Africa, left alone as a mere boy to fend for himself. He developed a strong sense of self-reliance and doesn’t want to trust anyone else. And he doesn’t want to stay in England.

So the question is – will these two be able to overcome their inner fears and fall in love? I’m going to let you find out when Wild is released in January.

“I love deadlines. I like the whooshing sound they make as they fly by.” — Douglas Adams

I’m on deadline. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not really complaining. A deadline, for a writer, means employment. So it’s a good thing, but it’s scary as well. Especially this one, it’s always nerve-wracking turning in that first book to a new editor. I’ve been in that particular scenario three times now. Twice at Avon, and now with my move to Grand Central. You have a whole new learning curve with every editor because they’re all different, they all have their own likes and dislikes and hang-ups. So you essentially start over with every editor. And moving to a new house ups the ante too. Needless to say I’m a mess. A complete ball of nerves. Did I mention I’m not done with the book? And it’s due June 1st?

For the record I’m not a Simpson’s fan (much to The Professor’s annoyance) but this picture was perfect.

Did I also mention that this book is running short? Okay, it’s okay. Deep breaths. Ohm. Ohm. Ohm. Hey, pictures take up a lot of space and I wanted it to look like I really worked on this blog for y’all. But mostly I’m trying to rush right through it and get back to my writing. Wish me luck. And I hope I have new of a completed (and brilliant) book very soon.

In the meantime I’ll give you a topic to discuss amongst yourselves. (Remember that old Saturday Night Live skit with Mike Myers doing Barbra Streisand? The Prince of Thieves is neither about princes nor thieves…discuss…too funny?) Okay what was the first romance novel you read and is it still in your top 5 favorites? Ready…discuss.

Ultimate Sportsfan and I had friends coming over for brunch on Sunday, which meant we had to get ready for our guests on Saturday. And of course, that meant cleaning. Lots of cleaning.

I hope I can feel at home confiding to all of you that I don’t clean much. My house isn’t a pigsty or anything. I wipe off the counters, do laundry, run the dishwasher…but the heavy stuff like mopping and dusting and polishing the silver only get done when we have people coming over or I just can’t take it anymore. I’d like to do more cleaning, but the bottom line is that I can either clean or write, and I choose to write.

But Saturday I had no choice but to clean, and I started thinking that, in some ways, cleaning is a lot like writing. See, the thing about cleaning is that the more I clean, the more I see that needs to be cleaned. For example, if I clean the counters and the sink in the kitchen, then the stove looks dirty. Then the refrigerator doesn’t look spiffy. And what about the inside of the refrigerator? And if I’m cleaning in there, I’d better do the inside of the microwave too. And how long has it been since those windows were washed…

I think in the cleaning world this is called the dustball effect.

In the writing world, it’s called overwriting.

Right now I’m on page 354 of a book that really shouldn’t go over 375 pages. I’m generally a pantser, but at the end of a book I try to map everything out clearly to ensure I don’t forget anything and the pacing stays tight.

So after cleaning all day, I sit down to write. I know exactly what scenes I need to write, their purposes, the point of view, everything. And yet, as I write I can’t resist putting little extras in there.

Why not give this character a few lines? Why not throw in another kiss? Why not have the hero talk to his best friend one more time? Pretty soon what should have been 5 pages turns into 12. If I allow myself to do this unchecked, I’ll get 550-page books. I’ve done it in the past. But since I’ve been published and realized that no one is going to buy 550-page books, I’ve tried to save myself the anguish of cutting huge sections and written to publisher guidelines.

And so just like when I’m cleaning, and I think, “Why not pull out all the refrigerator shelves and wash them?”, when I’m writing I have to say, “No, best friend, you can’t have a part in this scene. Or a subplot. Or a love interest.”

Save that for the next book. Or the next Spring cleaning.

So here’s the coolest thing about being an author: meeting other authors. Pam Morsi was the first author I met in person whose books I’d read before joining RWA. I’d read (and loved!) Courting Miss Hattie back when I was in college. And then—several years later—I walked into my first RWA meeting and there she was! I was starstruck. I’m showing my age, but this was long before the internet world we live in now where you can “meet” other authors easily.

Now I meet authors all the time. And it’s always cool when you get to meet an author whose books you love. Or conversely, when you meet a writer, become her buddy, buy a book, read it and end up loving her writing.

Right now, for example, I’m reading Temptation of a Warrior, a book by the Jaunty Quills own Margo Maguire. (Okay, in all honesty, I haven’t actually met Margo or become her buddy, but I feel like I know her through Robyn and the Jaunty Quills.) I’m really enjoying it, which makes guest blogging for the Jaunty Quills just that much more fun.

With Temptation of a Warrior, Margo has created a great book, seamlessly weaving together familiar romance elements—an orphaned Regency governess—with the paranormal—a magically gifted, mysterious warrior. It’s like Jane Eyre meets the Arthurian legend. Best of all, she creates a world into which I can escape absolutely.

As I’m working on this blog, my everyday life—kids, sick mom, horrendous mountains of laundry—constantly intrudes. Bleck. But it’s nice knowing in just a few minutes, I can curl up in bed with Margo’s book and that will all go away.

Which brings me to the point of my blog … No, wait a minute. If I can get back to my book as soon as I’m done here, then what am I doing hanging around here?

So what’s the coolest thing about your job?

I have a confession to make. I came back from the Spring Fling 2008 Conference in Chicago (it was fabulous, BTW) with a bunch of new books to read. All by authors I love.

Then…I went to the grocery store and strolled by the book section. While I can walk by almost any other display, I always seem to have to check out the books….see what’s new, move my friend’s books to a better placement…you understand.

Anyway, one book caught my eye. Oceans Apart by New York Times Bestselling Author, Karen Kingsbury.

I’d never read any of her books but the plot sounded intriguing: Eight years ago, during a stormy weekend on the shores of Hawaii, Connor Evans broke his vows. He’s kept his secret, until the woman from Connor’s past dies, leaving behind a young son…Michele never thought her family was perfect, but they were happy. Now her family is on the brink of destrcution. Will a lonely child help bridge the distance between them–before it’s too late?

Okay, I admit…the blurb hooked me.

Debbie Macomber’s comment on the cover, “I found this book impossible to put down” pushed me to the check-out stand.

And, while waiting to check out, reading the first couple pages warned me I was playing with fire. Yes, I loved this book. And like Debbie Macomber, I found it impossible to put down.

Even though I had a thousand other things to do Sunday, I read it in one sitting. Oceans Apart is definitely on my “highly recommend” list and you can bet I’ll be looking for other books by Karen Kingsbury.

But, back to the point. I had a bunch of other books to read…yet I bought another one. It reminded me of having a new purse, yet buying another before you’ve even started using the other one. I tell myself to :talktothehand: but I do it anyway.

I’m not really an extravagant person…but books and purses are my weakness.

Please tell me I’m not alone.

Do you find yourself buying books, purses or when you already have what you need at home?

1. A little boy opened the big family bible with fascination and looked at the old pages as he turned them. Suddenly something fell out of the bible. He picked it up and looked at it closely.

It was a large leaf from a tree that had been pressed in between the pages. “Momma, look what I found,” the boy called out.

“What have you got there, dear?” his mother said.

With astonishment in the young boy’s voice, he answered: “I think it’s Adam’s suit!”

***
2. One day, a 17-year-old girl is walking through a park when she hears a faint, “Help me, help me.”

She looks around and follows the quiet voice to a bush near the path. Looking under the bush she spies a little green frog trapped under a log. The girl moves the log and picks up the frog.

“Oh, thank you, thank you,” says the frog. “Take me home and put me on your pillow and in the morning I’ll be a handsome prince.” So the girl takes the frog home and puts him on her pillow, and there in the morning is a handsome prince.

You don’t believe that?

Neither did her mother.

***
3. After being away on business, Tom thought it would be nice to bring his wife a little gift. “How about some perfume?” he asked the cosmetics clerk. She showed him a bottle with a $100.00 price tag.

“That’s a bit much,” said Tom, so she returned with a smaller bottle for $75.00. “That’s still quite a bit,” Tom groused.

Growing annoyed, the clerk brought out a tiny $25.00 bottle. “What I mean,” said Tom, “is I’d like to see something really cheap.”

The clerk handed him a mirror.

***
4. A woman is in a gambling casino. At the roulette she says, “I have no idea what number to play.”

A man nearby suggests she play her age, so she puts her money on number 35. The wheel is spun, and 43 comes up.

The woman faints.

***
We have several empty tubes of Airborne cluttering up a junk drawer. They don’t fit the curbside recycling criteria, and the local SCRAP center doesn’t want them either, but I don’t want to just throw them in the trash. What to do?

Inspired by the clip below, I washed a few, dropped in some Cheerios, and stashed several in strategic places around the house and in the diaper bag. The tubes are small enough for Daniel to grip, big enough he can’t choke on it, makes a satisfying rattling sound, and if he somehow does manage to get the cap off it’s okay for him to put the contents in his mouth.

Have a great weekend!

I have been very excited about the release of this book, and now that it’s here…I don’t know what to say! So, I’ll include the back cover blurb and a snippet from the book and just leave it at that until I recover my tongue in order to give the historical background and behind the scene snippets. If you have any questions about the book, please ask! I’ll make sure to check the comments frequently.

Back cover blurb:

Three nights of danger . . .

When her brother was arrested for murder, the ton shut its doors to Marietta Winters. No one would help her save him from the gallows – no one but Gabriel Noble. In exchange for taking the case, Gabriel requests three favors from the desperate young beauty, and Marietta has no other choice but to make a deal with the sinfully handsome devil.

Three nights of pleasure . . .

Searching for clues in the rough underbelly of London, Marietta must masquerade as a shamelessly wanton wench – much to Gabriel’s delight. But Marietta swears to herself that her passionate moans are just for show. She could never fall in love with such a maddening, arrogant, seductive stranger . . . could she?

Three nights of sin . . .

Night after night, she satisfies his wicked cravings. But soon Gabriel wants more from Marietta than just three nights of sin – and even a sordid secret in his past won’t prevent him from trying to possess her forever.

Small Excerpt:

“You asked for my help, Miss Winters.”

Her fingernails dug into her left palm. She picked up the journal, shaking it in his direction. “Were you going to give me this if I hadn’t walked in on the two of you?”

“And here I thought you trusted me.” His voice was nonchalant.

“I don’t trust you at all. A sin would be less dangerous.”

He was suddenly squatting in front of her, having moved too quickly for her to react. He ran his thumb over the leather top of the journal, the tip brushing her fingers.

“That’s a shame, Marietta.” His voice held the low hum of an ocean wave at night. “If you don’t trust me, your brother is going to hang.” His fingertips moved along the side of her hand and then lifted. The most dangerous man she’d ever met crouched in front of her. “And I guarantee that you will still be serving me. Three services. Three tasks. Three nights of sin?”