This must have been the week for contests – Kirsten won the drawing from my blog on Wednesday.

And I’m going to do a drawing from the list of new subscribers to my newsletter. Just visit my brand new website MargoMaguire and sign up. I’ll do a drawing in a couple of weeks. The winner will get a nice prize pack from me!

Gillian, you are the winner of an eyeshadow trio made my yours truly. Email me at katewriterATgmail.com and let me know some of your favorite color groups and your mailing address. Congrats!

Before the weather turned nice this week, I’d planned to blog about where I’d like to live if I could live anywhere in the world.

But now the trees are budding, the flowers blooming and the songs of birds fill the air. All of a sudden, with the arrival of sunny seventy degree weather, I’ve decided Nebraska is an okay place to live.

So, instead of blogging about where I’d like to live, I thought I’d blog about the the top three reasons why I like where I do live….and then maybe you could do the same?? Pretty please…

I’ll go first…

I like where I live because:

1. The change of seasons. Spring and Fall are my favorite followed by Summer. Coming in a distant last is Winter. I like the change of seasons because Winter kills bugs and creepy crawlies, you get to wear a variety of clothes throughout the year, and the seasons smell different, feel different. Basically I guess I like the change.

2. The people in Nebraska are nice. Most people want to help you. Last year my daughter slid off the road (into a ditch) on an icy morning and, as she waited by her car for the tow truck, stranger after stranger stopped to see if she needed any help. You walk down the street and instead of looking away, strangers smile and say hello.

3. I love college football (specifically the Huskers) and people in this state are crazy for football. Nebraska doesn’t have a very large population (about 1.5 million in the whole state) and when the Huskers play at home, Memorial Stadium (which seats 80,000+) becomes the third largest city in the state.

I’d REALLY love to know what you like about where “YOU” live…because I love to travel and who knows, I may just want to visit.

MightyMom87, come on down! Send me your mailing address (k.higgins@snet.net) and your preference for any one of my books, and I’ll pop a signed copy into the mail.

Thanks to everyone for chiming in! Lovely to hear all your stories, both here and on Facebook.

Kristan

Oh, sure, we romance writers all talk to ourselves and lie in bed picturing our hero and heroine together, and we all ogle pictures of Daniel Craig and go to any movie starring Gerard Butler…but this — what I’m about to say — this is true honesty. Prepare yourselves.

Yesterday, I wrote the first kiss scene between the hero and heroine and found myself…well…okay…making out with my hand.

There. I’ve said it. See, this first kiss is a little different scenario from other first kisses I’ve written. The first kiss is so important in any romance novel, and I just wanted to make sure I got it right. And I did. Eventually. After a lot of snogging with, er…me. If I try to use McIrish, things tend to break down in one way or another. You can probably imagine one way, but another might go like this.

Me: Okay, so Harper’s just had a moment, right? And everyone else is downstairs, and she knows, even though she’s been trying not to admit it, right? And then Nick comes up, and they’re just on each other. Bam. Kissing, groping, up against the wall, all that good stuff.

McIrish: Bring it.

Me: Stop smiling. Nick would not be smiling.

Him: Whatever you want.

Me: Nick’s not as tall as you.

Him: I can’t help that. Pretend.

Me: Okay, we haven’t been together in ages, remember? We’re desperate.

Him: Desperate. Got it. Kiss me.

Me: But see, it’s not just that. There’s all this baggage, right? So yes, it’s this sudden, cannot-be-denied moment, but there’s also all this past between them.

Him: Past. Check.

Me: And don’t forget, there’s the other guy. You haven’t forgotten him, have you?

Him: Uh…other guy. Right.

Me: You forgot about him, didn’t you? Come on! This is serious!

Him: I do have to go to work at some point. Now or never, honey.

Me: This isn’t working. Get out.

Him: Heavy sigh, followed by muttering.

So you see, the hand was actually pretty helpful. Oh, lordy. This cannot be healthy.

In addition to this, I find myself crying in the car these days. I love making myself cry — this is a great sign as far as I’m concerned. If my story touches me that much, I must be on the right track. The part with Colonel the noble dog in Catch of the Day — I cried so hard! The cemetery scene in The Next Best Thing? Took me a day and a half to recover. My poor daughter caught me weeping the other day and said, “Mommy! What’s wrong?” to which I replied, “No, it’s good. It’s good that I’m so sad. It’s the book, honey. It’s okay.” Who knows what emotional scarring I impart at such moments?

But…to be a good writer, to convey heartfelt emotion, I think we have to really feel those things — love, sorrow, disappointment, abandonment, chemistry. So…whatever it takes! Making out with your hand or having to pull over on the highway because you’re suddenly crying…being vaguely schizophrenic…it’s all worth it in the end.

Okay, guys! As usual, I have abandoned all dignity in the pursuit of honesty, so it’s your turn now! What embarrassing things have you done when affected by a particularly moving scene, as a writer or a reader or a watcher of movie? Did you talk to your pillow and imagine Clive Owen’s face? Say the words the heroine just spoke, only to realize you’re actually still at work? And keep it clean! I don’t want to hear how you jumped your husband…this blog is rated PG, after all!

I’ll pick an honest responder and send her a copy of whichever of my books she likes. Can’t wait to see what you say!

Some women look forward to a new season for the shoes. I look forward to the new lipstick shades. To me, spring is all about bright color, as proven by the shocking pink lip gloss I picked up recently at the cosmetics counter.

When I was quite young my mother was an Avon Lady. She was good at it too because she loved product and knew how to use it. I remember she had this pale blue/green sample case that had all these tiny little lipsticks in it — just the perfect size for 4 year-old hands. My mother couldn’t cut hair to save her life — and I had the bangs to prove it — but boy howdy could she wear/sell skin care. Thus, my own love affair with cosmetics began.

By the time I was 12 I was wearing makeup to school. I believe I was the only girl in grade 7 whose foundation matched her skin tone. I was moisturizing by 15, and very much aware of skin care. Mom had gotten out of the Avon biz, but she wouldn’t go to the end of the drive without lipstick, and she swore by face cream.

I bought Vogue on a regular basis. I’m sure this got me made fun of. Here I was, stocky and weird with dyed orange hair who liked to wear strange clothes and tried styling my hair like the super models of the day. At 14 I hadn’t quite grown into my looks or my sense of self, but I was trying.

By sixteen I was doing makeup for my friends — sometimes to their mothers’ horror! I had a set of brushes I’d saved up to buy. I had gotten my ‘Colors’ done — this was the 80′s after all! — and would often help friends pick out the right shades of makeup for their skin tone. By this time I had ‘blossomed’ a little. I’d lost some weight, grew out my hair and wore it brown. I feathered it and then got a spiral perm (shudder). Lo and behold — I got a boyfriend! Yay me.

I think everyone thought I’d go to Cosmetology school, but as obsessed as I was with makeup, I was more obsessed with writing, so off to journalism school went I. Of course, by the time I entered the real world I realized journalism wasn’t for me. Still, I didn’t go to ‘makeup school.’

So here I am — a little over 2 decades later — and I still haven’t taken that course, even though I’ve thought of it. I have books on makeup, books on skincare. I’ve even made my own! In fact, I recently made an eyeshadow that is a dead ringer for a M.A.C. shade I wanted. Now my excuse isn’t that I don’t have the money or even the time, but that I can’t justify taking a course in makeup artistry when I have no intention of making a career of it.

(The model on the Vogue cover is Renee Simonsen. She was one of the supermodels of the 80′s and girlfriend of John Taylor from Duran Duran. To say I wanted to be her is something of an understatement. )

I get offered jobs at makeup counters all the time — only because I know what the product does, not because I look so fab when I go to Macy’s. Sure, I can contour, highlight and cover my brows with fairly decent ease, but it’s so much work! Still, can I confide that sometimes I’m tempted to take a resume to the M.A.C. or Benefit counter, even though I vowed never to work retail again? (And let me clarify that I spent 10 years in retail. The world and its shoppers are safer with me on the buying side of the counter). I’ve been pricing courses too. Will I take one? I dunno, but oh! The discount product is soooo tempting! Stay tuned — you never know, I might finally cave.

BTW, my oldest sister became an Avon Lady for a while as well. And is it coincidence that I write for AVON? I think not!

There you have it — my not-so-secret addiction. Now I want to know YOURS! Do you love makeup? Jewelry? Shoes? Tell me and I’ll pick one person to win a trio of mineral eye shadows made by yours truly, in colors inspired by WHEN MARRYING A SCOUNDREL, coming out on May 26th!

I interrupt this regularly scheduled blog to announce the winners from yesterday’s contest. Congrats to Teresa W., Jessica C. and Lori Ann. Please email me your snail mail addresses.

Now back to Margo’s blog about her house.

I live in an old house – it’s about 90 years old, and it’s clear that lifestyles were quite different back when this house was built. It’s a nice colonial with some cool features – like a sun room that is bumped out into a “bay” with windows on three sides. The breakfast nook is also a bay, but the kitchen is tiny. We’ve got gorgeous woodwork throughout the house, interesting tile floors in the bathrooms and vestibule, and some really cool antique light fixtures.

But the driveway is barely wide enough for a modern car to get through. They were probably driving Model Ts in 1921 when this house was built, right? And I’m guessing those were pretty narrow cars. The interior is sort of “boxy” – living room, dining room, sun room, kitchen – but of course, there was no family room. Which makes sense because there weren’t any TVs in 1921 to disturb the rest of the family when everyone else wanted quiet time and space - just a radio that the family could gather around and listen to The Lone Ranger or to Little Orphan Annie’s adventures.

We’ve made a few changes to the house over the years. The first thing we did was to add a family room, keeping the style of the house intact. We made it a “bay” just like the two existing bays – you can see it – the large room to the left of the breakfast nook. Before we added the family room, we had a little porch off the kitchen. With the expansion, it seemed we needed a deck. So my husband built this one.

Fast forward 16 years, and we realize we’ve got to do something about our too-small, outdated kitchen. I like to cook, and we entertain a lot. Plus, we’ve got three kids, and their significant-others, and we’re a very kitchen-oriented family. It’s quite a crowd when we all get together in this little space (to the left – I only remembered to take this “before” picture after I started emptying cupboards). Last December we started talking to our builder about enlarging the kitchen, but if we pushed it out too far, we would encroach on the family room windows (as you can see in the picture above on the right). We decided on a miniscule addition – only 3 feet more! – but those three feet are crucial. With a few weird structural details in the kitchen, we were stuck were certain design issues – and these disappeared when we expanded.

The builder started on the project in January, in the bitter cold of winter. He blocked off the end of the kitchen for the first couple of weeks, so I still had my sink and stove while he added the 3 additional feet and the new windows. But then the rest of the kitchen had to be gutted, of course, so we resorted to using the sink in the basement and a little hot plate to make meals.

Everything moved along pretty well, although there were a few delays. We had to wait for special-order windows, specialty contractors, inspections – that sort of thing. Finally the cabinets were ready to be installed. And the countertop guy had our granite cut and polished. It all came together one day and I had a semi-functional kitchen again. My husband is a very handy guy, so he did all the wiring (yes - I had it inspected!) and he did the plumbing, too. We did the painting ourselves (that’s an apricot/peach color on the walls), and we still have to stain the wndow trim and get the tile backsplash installed (he wants to do it himself, but I’m thinking of getting an installer. We’ll see who wins this argument. ).

With our new kitchen almost finished, we hosted Easter on Sunday, with dinner for 20. It was fabulous. No more bashing into each other as our guests came and went through the kitchen, helping to get things ready. No more wondering where to put the goodies that people brought. And we have two new ceiling fans – crucial for an old house without A/C.

We still have quite a bit of work to do, but I am really looking forward to spring and summer with our new little additon (my builder said it’s the smallest addition he’s ever built ). It was expensive, and a lot of trouble – but SO worth it! Now I’ve got the space I always wished I had, and we can open up the windows, pull up some chairs and gather around the kitchen table for a casual meal or just coffee. It’s absolutely perfect for us.

Now… How does your spring look? Tell me what’s up for you during this season and I’ll draw one name and send that lucky person a copy of my last book, Taken by the Laird.

A few weeks ago I went to a conference in Shreveport where I gave a workshop and then participated in a booksigning with several other authors. I happened to mention the booksigning on Facebook and a reader contacted me and said she lived in that area and would try to come by to meet me. I hoped she’d be able to make it.

Come time of the booksigning and things were going well, my books were selling, many of whom had attended my workshop and had favorable things to say. Always nice to hear. But then in walks this lovely woman clutching my first book, Courting Claudia, to her chest. She comes over smiling broadly with her husband following behind her. After a brief introduction she holds out the book and says she’s read all my books and loves them, but that one is her favorite. What a wonderful moment, perhaps for her (she seemed excited enough) but most definitely for me.

It’s always a joy to meet readers, but there is something magical when you meet one who comes just to see you. Who comes in with a tattered and loved copy of one of your books and holds it tightly to them gushing and grinning. It makes all those hours I spend tolling away alone in my office so worth it. All those times when the book isn’t working and the writing isn’t flowing or the revisions seem insurmountable so worth the pain, sweat and tears put in to reach that finished product.

So all you readers out there, please know that every time you send us a note or come meet us at a signing, you make us want to rush right back to our offices and write you another book. So thank you. And as a small token of my appreciation I’m giving away copies of one of my backlist books to three of you. Just make a comment on what makes a keeper book for you and you’ll be entered.

And don’t forget to enter my contest with Fresh Fiction.

We’ve been talking about Spring Fever this month, but I decided to talk more about the fever part of that, rather than the spring.
I’ve noticed a trend lately in romances, and I want to get some opinions on it. It seems like every time I turn around, I’m looking at a romance where the hero and heroine are “destined” to be together. This seems to be the case in a lot of paranormal romances in particular. The man just knows this particular woman is destined to become his mate and he has to convince her. Or in the case of some of the paranormal YA’s I’ve read, he knows they’re destined to be together, but resents her for it so he treats her badly for most of the book. (How healthy is that?)
Maybe Twilight is to blame. Maybe some woman just like the idea of a man loving them for no particular reason. Me, I like a romance that develops as the characters get to know each other. Slowly. Out of mutual appreciation of each other’s qualities, both good and bad.
Yes, love should make you feverish, but if it’s just some kind of fever that over comes you, then how do you know it won’t go away if your guy just takes a couple of aspirin?
What do you think? Are you a fan of the “I love you ’cause it’s my destiny?” Are there any books where you think it really works?