First I have to start off by thanking those of you who recommended the movie “August Rush” to me a couple weeks ago. I watched it this week and LOVED it. Thinking how much I loved this movie made me think of all the wonderful romance novels that I’ve read over the years.

And, it brought to mind a pet peeve of mine. Why, oh why, when romance readers and worse yet, romance writers, are asked to name a favorite book do they name a book that’s not a romance?

Well, not today. Today let’s pretend we’re at a function and we’re each asked to recommend one romance novel to the group and to say a a few words about why we like the book. I’ll draw a winner from those who play along and offer a romance novel recommendation. The winner will either win a copy of Claiming the Rancher’s Heart or one of my other books (if they already have my latest release)

I’ll start first. My book is an old one, but one that’s on my keeper shelf.

Bittersweet by LaVryle Spencer is a fabulous novel. What I think you’ll like about it is the wonderful characters. I don’t know who does characters better than this author. They are so real…so human…so easy to identify with. I saw my own strengths and weaknesses in almost every character.
The setting (Door County) comes alive and adds to the story. I highly recommend this oldie but goodie.

Okay, your turn… and don’t you DARE give me a literary novel

My ten-year-old son wrote to our nation’s President the other day and invited the Obamas here for dinner.

Of course, the first question on my mind was what to cook. Or more accurately, what to have McIrish cook. But then…Which china would we use? We have Fiestaware for everyday stuff (McIrish is the proverbial bull in a china shop, and Fiestaware’s very sturdy). We don’t have napkins that really go with the thinner china, which let’s be honest, I never really liked anyway.

And what about the hallway that I really need to paint? We’d have to get the piano tuned. And the yard’s looking a bit ragged at this time of year. Which flowering plants could I buy and plant right now? Once our guests were in the house, would Digger try to climb on Mr. Obama’s lap? Digger does that sometimes…other times, he barks and growls. What about the cats? Would they behave? Probably not. I can clearly picture Hyacinth leaping on Mrs. Obama’s head or presenting the her with a dead mole. And isn’t one of those beautiful little girls allergic to cats? Speaking of the girls, my daughter has always wanted a little sister. After about ten seconds with those girls, my own would start her campaign to adopt a girl and asking me why I won’t have another baby, and that’s not a conversation I want to have in front of the President.

And what about the Secret Service detail? Our house isn’t that big. Where is everyone going to sit? Also, what will we talk about? I mean, those two are intimidating. “Michelle, I love your clothes…” nah.  Speaking of clothes, what will I wear? What does one wear when the President comes to dinner and his wife is already a fashion icon?

What about dessert? They must have a killer pastry chef in the White House. I can bake a pretty good pie, but would it be good enough? I’m thinking apple — as in, “as American as apple pie.” Would they chuckle at that, or is it a bit heavy-handed? What about coffee? We never bought matching mugs…we kind of like that eclectic thing. Should I give Mr. Obama the “Cuppa Joe” mug, or would that remind him of Joe the Plumber and bring up unpleasant memories? 

After supper, I’m quite sure Sasha and Malia will want to go on our swing — all kids do, as it glides out over a hill — and then McIrish will do his thing where he pushes the kids so high that they scream, and Michelle would scream too, and then the Secret Service guys would tackle McIrish and wrestle him to the ground, and then Digger would think they were playing and try to join in and eventually start humping someone’s leg…

As my son said in his letter, he understands that Mr. Obama is “busy with the House of Reps. and other meetings.”  Chances are, the First Family’s schedule won’t allow them to drop in on our little abode. But you know, if they did…it would be quite an experience.

Have you ever invited a high-pressure guest to your house? How did it go?

My dearest Readers,
I am currently writing a wedding scene for my latest book set in 1829 and because I absolutely LOVE research and always pick through all sorts of details to make sure that everything is as it should be, I came across some rather fascinating historical details that I just had to share. Now mind you, I can’t possibly cover ALL of them, as this post would be ridiculously long, but, I’ll definately post enough to make it worth your while. Oh. And this will be part 1 of 2. The second will be posted on the 15th of this month.

So. The word “wed” is actually Anglo Saxon and means to pledge. When the term originally came about, pledge actually didn’t refer to the wedding vows themselves. But rather the money or land that a groom handed over to the father of the bride.

Let us begin with the Romans, shall we? A Roman bride basically wore a white dress-like toga. Same color as is worn today. Her veil and shoes, however, were either red or yellow. Colors which were considered sacred to the Hymen. And uh, no, I’m not talking about THE hymen people…ehm…I’m speaking of the goddess of prosperity and fertility (though now you know where the word hymen originates from – waggling brows). The Roman bride would wear a garland of fresh flowers and carry several ears of wheat to further please the gods (ah, the good old days when flower arrangements were cheap). Once married, that night, the bride would be escorted by three young boys carrying candles to light the way, and they would travel to her husband’s home. There, she would quite literally be carried over the threshold by the bridal party (amazing how traditions are so far reaching, isn’t it?). The reason this was even done was because the Romans thought it was very unlucky for a bride to stumble on the threshold. So to avoid any bad fortune, she was simply carried over the threshold. What was unique about Roman marriages is that even though they were arranged, both parties had to be willing or the wedding wasn’t allowed to take place. So Roman women were actually quite lucky in that sense. If they *really* didn’t want to get married, they just put up a hand and said, “I think I’ll pass.” (Though I’m sure not in those same words)

Now what about how those best men and groomsmen? How did we end up with those? Well. We have the Anglo Saxons to thank for that. The Anglo Saxons went about things the Cave man way. If a man wanted a certain woman for a wife, he just had to hunt her down and drag her home to his abode and force her to marry him. You think he could manage a fiesty woman who most likely wasn’t going to cooperate on his own? Hell no. He needed back up. Hence the best man and groomsmen. They accompanied the “groom” on the hunt to ensure they not only got the “bride” but that should there be any resistance from the “bride’s” father or brothers, they could be handled. Talk about sweeping a woman off her feet!

And last but not least (as I promise to post part 2 on the 15th), Fleet marriages in London, England. My favorite. At the beginning of the 18th century, more and more weddings started taking place by special licence in which the ceremony itself was not in a church, but rather at the bride’s home. The whole idea of special licence was actually first introduced in the 14th century at about the same times banns were being required to be printed and read in the parish of the engaged couple. So basically, for three Sundays in a row, their upcoming marriage was announced to the world. Why? To allow any objections to surface during that time. Special licence became more popular however, because, at a fee, a couple could get married at any time and any place without the world knowing. By the 18th century, the upper classes who took offence to people rushing to be wed without the world knowing (after all, scandal could only be involved), it started to become known as “Fleet Marriages.” Why? Because the Fleet area of London was known for having several chapels that for a fee would perform the ceremony there and then. The priests didn’t give a rat’s you know what who was getting married and why as long as they got their money. If a girl was sobbing through the whole ceremony that she was supposed to marry someone else, if money was exchanged, she might as well be smiling. Which created quite a few problems (and stories).

One story goes that, and I quote, “The Duke of Hamilton married an 18 year old gal by the name of Miss Eliza Gunning at 12.30 a.m. at Mayfair Chapel on St. Valentine’s Day 1752. The marriage took place in such a haste that the duke hadn’t even purchased a wedding ring and he used a bed curtain ring (freak).” The freak, I put in, mind you. Just so you know. Grin. As it turned out Miss Eliza had been promised to someone else but the duke made sure that someone else was him. Talk about a crazy situation. And there were SO many of them! Too many to even count. It got so bad, actually, that in 1753 (hm…wait…that’s shortly after Miss Eliza got hitched against her will) Lord Hardwicke introduced what was known as the Marriage Act which made the church the one and only place legal for couples to marry. It also didn’t allow anyone under the age of 21 to marry without parental consent, and started making sure that Bishops weren’t just selling special licences to just anyone. Even though the law was passed in 1753, it took an entire year to take effect (imagine all the gals still getting married against their will during that year…). It became law throughout the land on Lady Day (how sweet), on March 25th 1754 at 11 a.m. (yes, they got it down to the minute). To close this particular post, I will say that on that same day before the law took effect at 11 a.m., 45 couples rushed over to the chapel that morning and got married. Long live marriage.

Until Part 2, Cheers and much love,
Delilah Marvelle

My cousin asked me if I’d watched Northern Lights, the first of four Lifetime movies based on Nora Roberts books. Actually, I missed it accidentally on purpose. There was another series like this a year or two ago and the one I saw just wasn’t what I expected from a Nora Roberts book. I was not impressed, so I figured I’d just skip this year’s offerings. But when my cousin asked, “Are my expectations lower or are they getting better at making these films?” I decided to check them out.

Luckily, we’ve got “On Demand,” a cable feature that allows you to watch programs from channels you subscribe to. And since Lifetime is free, it was a no-brainer. I queued it up and watched. And what do you know – they have improved, although I’m sure I’d like the book better. Aside from the hunky hero …

… I thought the best character was the mayor – a no-nonsense, straight-speaking Alaskan woman, and Rosanna Arquette was really good in her role as the heroine’s conflicted mother.

I didn’t really think LeAnn Rimes nailed the part of Meg, but since I didn’t read the book, I could very well be wrong. But I’m guessing Nora made Meg a more consistently motivated/behaving character. She was definitely a strong, take-charge woman, but there were inconsistencies.

OK, so I caught High Noon, too, which I thought that was great – and I really liked the actress who played the heroine.

She was also a typically strong Nora Roberts heroine, but in this one, the hero was a little bit mushy. NR heroes are always strong enough to go toe-to toe with any heroine, but I just didn’t get that sense out of this guy. But overall, I thought it was pretty good.

How about you? Have you seen any of these films? Here’s the official website NoraRobertsMovies and it looks as though you can watch a couple of them online if you’ve got a couple of hours to kill.

This past weekend I went to a writer’s conference where the fabulous Vicki Lewis Thompson was speaking. She gave a talk on hiring a assistant. Vicki listed things you can have an assistant do, like answering mail and reading your copy edits. Her assistant serves as her first reader. Of course, her assistant is her grown daughter. 

Still I couldn’t help imagining what it would be like if my kids worked as my assistant. For those of you waiting for the punch line, my daughter is 3 years old. My son is 15 months.

Sometimes I like to write long hand. As you can see, my daughter likes to offer editorial input. She adds delightful drawings, of a somewhat abstract nature. They’re not always in the tone of my sexy, funny romances, but I enjoy them.

Now true, Vicki Lewis Thompson’s daughter/assistant does things like maintaining her website and creating and managing a database of fans. Those kinds of projects are a bit beyond my labor team’s skill set, but they are working on their computer skills.

Okay, so they might not be up to the level of a professional yet. However I am with them almost non-stop. Having them around has made me a vastly different writer. I can even say–in total honesty-that I am more productive since they’ve come into my life. And isn’t that what an assistant is for?

By the way you ever get an email from me that reads, “l;kn,kmn s;dopfhaowklen,” rest assured, it was sent by one of my trusty assistants.  

I thought I couldn’t love a sweet more than chocolate. Frankly, I thought there wasn’t a confection in existence that could even come close. Alas, I have a new love – a cookie called madeleine.

Marcel Proust must have felt the same way as he wrote the following in ‘Remembrance of Things Past’ — “She sent out for one of those short, plump little cakes called ‘petites madeleines,’ which look as though they had been moulded in the fluted scallop of a pilgrim’s shell……. An exquisite pleasure had invaded my senses….”.

That doesn’t even begin to explain it…

Why not see for yourself? I found this delectable recipe on the Joy of Baking website www.joyofbaking.com/madeleines

1/2 cup (113 grams) unsalted butter, melted
1 cup (130 grams) all-purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1/8 teaspoon salt
3 large eggs, at room temperature
2/3 cup (133 grams) granulated white sugar
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

First, melt the butter and allow it to cool while you make the batter.
In a small bowl place the flour, baking powder and salt and whisk until well blended.
In the bowl of your electric mixer, beat the eggs and sugar at medium-high speed until the mixture has tripled in volume and forms a thick ribbon when the beaters are lifted (about 5 minutes). Add the vanilla extract and beat to combine.

Sift a small amount of flour over the egg mixture and, using a large rubber spatula, fold the flour mixture into the beaten eggs to lighten it. Sift the rest of the flour over the egg mixture and fold in being sure not to over mix or the batter will deflate.

Whisk a small amount of the egg mixture into the melted butter to lighten it. Then fold in the cooled melted butter in three additions. Cover and refrigerate for at least 30 minutes, or several hours, until slightly firm.

Position a rack in the center of the oven and preheat to 375 degrees F (190 degrees C). Generously butter two 12-mold madeleine pans. Dust the molds with flour and tap out the excess. (Could spray pans with Bakers Joy instead.) (Make sure the pans are well greased or the madeleines will stick and be hard to remove.)

Drop a generous tablespoonful of the batter into the center of each prepared mold, leaving the batter mounded in the center. (This will result in the classic “humped” appearance of the madeleines.)

Bake for 11 to 13 minutes, until the edges are golden brown and the centers spring back when lightly touched. Do not over bake these cookies or they will be dry.

Remove the pans from the oven and rap each pan sharply against a countertop to release the cookie. Transfer, smooth sides down, to wire racks to cool. Madeleines are best served the same day but can be stored in an airtight container at room temperature for 2 to 3 days or frozen, well wrapped, for up to 1 month.

Bon Appetit!

As I discussed several weeks ago, the first car I ever bought myself (when I was seventeen) was an MG Midget. It was a five speed, which meant I had to learn how to drive a manual transmission.

My father and my boyfriend at the time (who is now my husband) taught me how to shift. I really didn’t have a hard time learning. For any of you who’ve learned to drive a stick shift, you know all vehicles do not shift equally. The MG was easy to “feel” the gears. That couldn’t be said of other cars (and pick-ups) I’ve driven over the years.

But learning to shift was the least of my problems. Killing the engine by letting out the clutch too quickly or starting out in the wrong gear is very embarrassing to a teenage girl wanting to look cool. Hills were the bain of my driving existance, especially hills that had a stop light or sign at the very top. If a steep incline wasn’t bad enough…anyone else experienced a driver.right.on.your.back bumper? As far as I was concerned, those people were putting their car’s front end in my hands. As anyone whose driven a manual transmission knows, when you let out the clutch cars tend to want to go back a teeny bit (or more) before they move forward…and if someone is on your back bumper…well, watch out! Though I prefer an automatic now (easire to eat and talk on the cell phone), I still feel good that in an emergency I could jump into any nearby vehicle and take off (‘course I’d have to have the keys )

How about you? Can you drive a stick shift? Any horror stories to tell? And, if you don’t know how to drive one….mind sharing why you’ve never learned?

Recently I was asked in an interview whether my plot or characters come first. My first answer was undeniably that characters come first. After all, I’m a pantser, and I don’t plot a lot before I write.

But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that my ideas actually come from plots. For example, with Blackthorne’s Bride, I had the idea when I asked myself, what if two couples elope and the priest marries the wrong couples? With No Man’s Bride, the idea came when I thought, what if a father tricked his future son-in-law into marrying the wrong daughter? With Pride and Petticoats I thought, what if an American was stuck trying to learn all the rules of the English aristocracy? That one sounds kind of like a character-based idea, but I think it’s actually a plot device.

So the more I thought about my answer, the more I realized that while I may be a character-based writer, my stories begin with a plot idea. I think this is an important revelation for any writer. After all, at some point most writers have to come up with an idea. Maybe the one they wanted to write about didn’t sell or didn’t work once the writer got into the story.

What then? You need a new idea. And if you know how you generate your ideas, it might help you come up with one a whole lot faster.

So what about you? Does plot or character come first?

Maybe it’s because Spring seems to have finally arrived (trees and flowers are blooming and best of all, I can finally put my winter coat away..yipee!!) that my thoughts are turning to summer vacation. Because of the downturn in the economy, many of us will be looking for fun places close to home.

If someone asked you for a recommendation of a fabulous site close to where you live, what would you recommend?

Me? If you lived in the heartland, I’d tell you to check out the South Dakota Badlands. I haven’t been there recently but I still remember the awe I felt gazing out over the inspiring landscape. The crazy thing was, when I had stopped there it was only because we were on our way to Mount Rushmore (another great place to visit, btw)

I’m interested in hearing your recommendations. Someone the other night told me I MUST see the Grand Canyon (yep, that’s right I’ve never been there)…and I know there are so many wonderful places that I’ve never seen. C’mon, tell me, what would you recommend? It doesn’t even HAVE to be near where you live. Just a great place that shouldn’t be missed.

Robyn’s post yesterday got me thinking about why we love the books we love. I’m not talking about the books we enjoy, but the ones we love. Like, stop people on the street and tell them about them love. Like, finish the book, sigh, put down the book, and pick it back up again love it.

For me, it comes down to the characters. All of the books I really love have characters who just pop off the page. Characters that part of me secretly believes really exist in the world.  Did you ever read the Chronicles of Narnia? I think I was twenty something before I stopped looking inside of every wardrobe I saw … ya know, just in case. It’s because Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy were just that real to me. Not to mention Aslan. Those were the first books I loved and those characters are as real to me as they were then.

Harry Dresden is equally real to me. If I went to Chicago, I would expect to find his office. However, I would not want to encounter any of the scary creatures he fights. Maybe I could catch him on a slow day.

So what other characters do I secretly believe are real? Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth. Love them. And obviously, I’m not alone in this. Oh, and the whole crew from the Harry Potter universe. Anybody else here ready to book the Hogwart’s tour of England? You took take the train up to visit Hogwarts, stay overnight in Hogsmeade, and then swing by The Burrow for a nice home cooked meal. 

(As a side note, once again, I’m late to the party … Warner Brother’s is already at work on The Wizarding World of Harry Potter attraction in Orlando. Hmmm … vacation summer of 2010?)

So what about you? What characters do you secretly believe are real?