Thanks, Margo, and all the Jaunty Quill ladies for the invitation to be here today! I haven’t blogged in a long time, and during the last couple of weeks I kept struggling with an idea for a topic – and then, in the most unlikely place, it came to me.

Two weekends ago I was in Phoenix to celebrate my father’s 70^th birthday, and at the party, before dinner, as about 15 family members were mingling over cocktails, my aunt asked me the typical questions we authors often get asked: Are you still writing romances? How’s the book business going? Do you still enjoy it after all these years? And of course my answers were the standard: Yes, sure, I’m still writing romances. The book business, as far as romance goes, is plugging along just fine. I enjoy it as much as anyone enjoys a really cool job. Yada, yada… My mistake, however, was adding this:

Me: “Sometimes I struggle to write love scenes after all these years, though. I mean, aside from different characters and places, sex is sex, and it’s never my favorite part to write in any of my books. Writing sex – for me – is hard.”

My aunt: “Well, why don’t you just stop writing the sex part? Can’t you just skim over that?”

Me: “Um, it’s kind of hard to do that. Actually, the love scenes are a very integral part of my stories. I just find them difficult to write. But intense love scenes are part of my books, and my readers love and expect them.”

Now, before you all decide this is a topic on writing sex, it’s not.  Though feel free to discuss that if you want! But my aunt’s response was the shocker. Here’s her reply, not kidding:

My aunt: “Well, I imagine most of the women who read romances are bored housewives and reading romance novels is how they get their jollies.”

Ugh.

Unfortunately, I’m one of those people who always thinks of a really good reply to an insult three days late. Of course my aunt wasn’t trying to be insulting; she’s just totally uninformed. I get that. And that’s the most difficult part – responding to an ignorant statement without sounding defensive and repeating the mantra, “I promise you romance is not about the sex! Smart women read romance! On the RWA website they have these statistics, and it says…” Blah, blah, blah.

So what was my genius reply?  My answer to my 64-year-old aunt at that moment was, “Well, that’s kind of a romance-reader cliché, actually. Most romance readers are educated women, and they don’t read them for the sex alone.”

Yeah. Okay. I’m sure that was convincing. Yes, basically, I just muttered the mantra, the standard RWA/respect-a-romance-reader/author defensive reply without thinking. I can’t remember if she just nodded or commented after that, but I was totally befuddled. I mean, I would have expected a comment about bored housewives from some guy on an airplane, but from a woman who’s lived through the sexual revolution and fought the stereotypes?

This whole exchange got under my skin. For years, romance readers and writers have been trying to gain more respect for a genre we love by appealing to the mainstream and trying to gain acceptance. Even RWA has tried its best to better educate the masses regarding who romances actually appeal to, and who is buying them. We’ve even got websites dedicated to denouncing the clichés and stereotypes (think Smart Bitches and AAR). But maybe we’re just going about it the wrong way? Maybe we’re trying too hard or wasting time? Maybe we’re beating a dead horse?

After this episode, I thought long and hard about my last decade in this business, and how I’ve tried to get not only my family to understand it, but how RWA and educated woman readers and writers have tried as well. The women in my family are all very educated. Even my grandmothers had advanced college degrees from the 1930s. My mother has a Ph.D. My sister, aunts, cousins… all educated. And not one of them reads romances as a genre of choice. Now, that’s not a fault or anything. They don’t look down on romance; it just doesn’t appeal to them.

My mom is a rabid mystery reader, so I know she’s not highbrow all the time. My sister teaches high school and doesn’t have time, frankly, to read much of anything for pleasure. Both, however, do read my books when a new one is released. Both say they enjoy them. Yay for me. My mom has asked me more than once why I don’t want to “branch out” into something else. She probably thinks mystery is a better genre because it’s her preferred choice. Who knows? But why should I, or anyone, try to change her mind about romance? Really, who cares what she thinks about the genre? My mom still recommended my last book to one of her bookclubs for their monthly read, and she recently told me she found me a “new fan” on a cruise by introducing my books to someone she met who reads romances regularly. I know my mom and sister are proud of me, my profession, and will buy and read my books. That’s about it. Will either of them pick up a Kathryn Smith or Terri Brisbin novel? No. And you know what? That’s fine. I’m sure Terri and Kate have family to make up for the lost readership of mine.

Here’s my point:  Why are we trying so hard to make people love us? Why are we, as romance readers and writers, trying so hard to get respect from people who don’t read romances regularly enough to know the difference between the clichéd and the awesome? Or, more precisely, between Barbara Cartland and Lisa Kleypas? Why do we give a rat’s puckered butt what the “mainstream” thinks of what we read and write? Maybe in my middle-age I’ve become jaded and tired of everybody in this business trying so damn hard, but seriously, who’s making the money here? Which genre is keeping the publishing biz afloat? Uh-huh. Exactly.

 I think we have some serious respect already, from the only people who matter. And if someone like my educated aunt can say she thinks romance novels are only being read by bored housewives, then well, it’s a shame she’s so uninformed. I think from now on we should all carry around one great book we love (or one of our own if we’re authors) in our purse or backpack or car to hand out to the ignorant, so that when that ill-informed individual on the plane or in Starbucks says, “Wow, you write/read trash?” we can snicker with a shake of the head, reach into our handbag, and offer them our little book gift as we say with feigned sadness, “You poor soul, you don’t have a clue, do you?” Or, if you’re less feisty, just a simple, “Try this book. You do not know what you’ve been missing!” I mean really, what else can we do but recommend a really good book? The worst that can happen is that Mr./Ms. Ignorant will pass it along, and it’ll eventually fall into the lap of someone who will love it.

We can’t make people enjoy romance when they’re mystery readers at heart; or respect us, our work, or our reading material if they don’t want to give it a college try because the stereotypes are tattooed on their brains. Why get defensive and try to convince them with stats? I say better to let them think we know something they, as poor ignorant souls, do not, than to keep begging for friggin’ respect. Enough already!

Finally, a really good, bestselling author friend (who shall not be named because she’s never given me permission to repeat this) has discussed this topic with me more than once, and her feeling is summed up this way: “I know what I write. I know what my readers what to read. If you want to compare it to literature, then sure, it’s fluff. So what? What’s wrong with fluff? Why is there no respect in fluff? Why do we always have to compare ourselves to great literature? I don’t write literature, I write fluff and my readers buy it, love it and want more. That doesn’t make me any less of a professional, and I don’t have to apologize for it.”

Fluff is good! So let’s stop beating that poor dead horse named “Respect Romance or Die” and just offer a book to the uninformed instead. It isn’t nearly as exhausting! Any comments?

Be sure to check out Adele’s newest book, My Darling Carline – and be on the lookout this summer for The Duke’s Captive.

Before I break into my featured ramble, I want to thank Terri Brisbin and all of the ladies at Jaunty Quills   for inviting me to guest blog.  It’s always a treat to interact with readers and writers in a new-to-me venue. I must admit though, after my initial glee I experienced a blip of anxiety.  What should I blog about?

Just when I was starting to break into a sweat, I flashed on a time when Terri and I participated in a panel discussion at a local library. It was a long time ago, but I’ll never forget one specific question launched our way (although I confess I’m paraphrasing).

“Is there ever any part of you in your heroines?”

I was surprised when a couple of the authors answered, no. Their heroines were nothing like them—complete creations of their imagination and research. I wondered suddenly if I was guilty of some major writerly faux pas, because, well, there’s a little bit of me in all of my heroines.

Sometimes it’s something in my background—a past hobby or occupation, a relationship with a family member, an experience with a friend or beau. Sometimes it’s a talent or a skill . . . a belief or a fear. . . a desire or a dream. Having something in common with my heroine enables me to bond with her on an emotional level. I feel her. Even if she’s fiercely different from me in all ways but one. That one thing fuels my passion and pen.

In Out of Eden, my upcoming release from HQN, I have two things in common with my heroine, Kylie McGraw. We both grew up in a small town in Indiana. We both dreamed of ‘getting out’ and traveling to an exotic land. Those two things gave me an awful lot of material to work with. That said, in many ways, Kylie is nothing like me. Those portions aren’t the easiest to write, but they’re almost always the most fun. There’s a lot to be said for living vicariously through one’s heroine!

So here’s my question(s) to you.

1)    As a writer, do you incorporate any of ‘yourself’ into your heroines?
2)    As a reader, do you ever read a passage and wonder if the author is writing from personal experience?
3)    And lastly, for the fun of it…. Kylie’s dream is to tour China and Japan. Mine was to visit England and to see Paris at least once. (Mission accomplished!) What about you. What’s your dream destination?

Beth lives in New Jersey with her husband, two zany dogs, and one crazy cat. In addition to writing, she also works at her local library and travels to exciting lands whenever possible. To learn more about her chaotic life visit her website at www.bethciotta.com

Julia Latham, WICKED,SINFUL NIGHTS, January 2010

Hello! Thanks so much to the ladies of the Jaunty Quills for inviting me to blog. I’m Julia Latham (and also Gayle Callen, but not this release month!), and I bet you think I’m here to talk about my newest book, WICKED, SINFUL NIGHTS. Okay, okay, I know you’re dying to know that it’s a swashbuckling medieval, about a woman accused of murder, and the man sent to prove her guilt. And trust me, it’s a great story, with a beautiful, windswept cover. It’s so great, I’m going to give away a copy to one of the people who comments on my blog. So answer the question posed below!

I’m really here to talk about skiing. Yes, skiing. Or rediscovering a long-ago pastime. Way back in the dark ages (and you wonder why I write medievals?) I used to ski. I learned from my father when I was a freshman in high school and borrowed my mother’s skis. I was always a figure skater, and found that if you can snowplow when skating, you can snowplow when skiing. (FYI: snowplowing is a basic move to stop or slow down, where you bend your knees and point your toes together.) I even went on a co-ed ski trip to Vermont in high school, and trust me, this was a big deal, considering I attended an all-girl high school.

Skiing also helped me get the attention of my future husband, Jim. We were fraternity brothers–it was an engineering fraternity, co-ed. As you can see, I did not follow that career path… Anyway, I wanted Jim to know I was available. I called him up and asked if he and any of the brothers were going skiing that weekend, as I had just broken up with my boyfriend and wanted to have some fun. Subtle, huh? They weren’t going skiing, but he eventually asked me to a basketball game, and the rest is history.

Two years ago, we decided to ski again, after twenty-some years away from it. Our kids gave us helmets for Christmas, in an obvious hint that we need protection. But to my utter surprise, skiing came back like I’d never left the sport. I still love flying down the hill, looking at the beautiful snow-covered scenery, and enjoying quiet talks with my husband as we ride the chairlift up through crisp air. Next we’re going to Aspen, where our son lives, to try our creaky skills on the really BIG mountains. Our kids encouraged that trip, too. What, do they think we don’t get out enough?

So what have you rediscovered in your life after many years away?

I thought it would be fun to talk about the Bad Boy hero. We love ‘em, right? But how bad is too bad?

The hero of my January Superromance,The Father For Her Son, just spent seven years in prison. And yes, he was guilty. He didn’t kill anyone, but he did rob a liquor store. I hope I show that he really has learned from his mistakes, but still, writing a hero like this was a risk.

What do you, as readers, think? Is there anything in a hero’s past that would be a deal breaker for you? Does it take you longer to trust a hero with a dark past?

Do you think this kind of thing makes for a stronger conflict? After all, the heroine has to overcome her misgivings and mistrust of the hero in order for a romance to happen. Certainly our heroine, Marlee, has to struggle with this. Does she want her young son exposed to this fact about the hero, Troy,’s life?

What are some of your favorite Bad Boy heroes? And what do you think of a hero who’s served time in prison?

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THE FATHER FOR HER SON, Harlequin Superromance, January 2010
Life hasn’t been easy for single mom Marlee Britton, but she’s proud of her ability to look after herself and her son. Then old flame Troy Denton shows up after seven years, wanting to be a father to his son. and to rekindle his relationship with Marlee. While Troy struggles to prove himself trustworthy, Marlee wonders how she can ever give her heart to the man who broke it so long ago.
MELTING POINT” in BABY IT’S COLD OUTSIDE, with Jennifer Greene and Merline Lovelace, Harlequin Anthology, January 2010
Kristjan Gunnarson is Iceland’s first ever Olympic medalist. Coloradoan Stacy Bristol thinks he’ll be the perfect model for her new advertising campaign, but she isn’t prepared for the impact handsome Kristjan has on her. As she supervises filming around Iceland, Stacy fights her attraction to Kristjan. Can a down-to-business American and a footloose Icelander find love in the land of ice and fire?

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Cindi Myers became one of the most popular people in eighth grade when she and her best friend wrote and illustrated their own historical romance novel. The manuscript was eventually confiscated by her English teacher, who told her she should spend her time learning to properly conjugate a sentence. Since then, Cindi has gone on to write more than three dozen novels, both historical and contemporary. She also teaches writing and is a popular speaker and workshop presenter. She produces a weekly market newsletter or you can visit her website.

Hello all! I’m thrilled to be here today on the Jaunty Quills. Why am I so thrilled, so tickled, so pumped??? Because today is the official release day for my second book, HIGHLAND DRAGON, from Zebra books. Can I get a WHOOT?!

So I wanted to talk to you about fiction vs. truth…

As a reader, do you ever read a passage in a book and go huh? They didn’t eat corn on the cob in 1502. Does it immediately turn you away from the author? You swear you will never pick up another book by this author again because she didn’t do her research. Well, sometimes we authors have to bend that truth. We wrap it around something that is real to enhance the story. For example, in HIGHLAND DRAGON I have my heroine, Akira, being sold at auction in the Highlands. Of course, slaves were bought and sold. I researched it! But at this particular auction, the women being bought and sold were valued based on their virginity.

I’ve already had a reader email me in utter astonishment wanting to know if that scene in my book was real. I was flattered, but I also didn’t want her to think this type of outrageous horror actually happened.
So, my question for you today is: What bits have you stumbled upon hat left you gasping at the inaccuracy? Don’t give the author’s name just the bit.

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EXCERPT from HIGHLAND DRAGON

What if she’d already been sold? What if she’d never even been brought here?

Just as the questions entered his mind, the untamed hiss of the next captive pierced through the drone of bidders. Hair black as midnight framed her porcelain face—a face twisted into a ferocious expression of revulsion. Oaths spewed from her mouth in English, French, Gaelic, and another language Calin didn’t recognize. Two sentries in black hooded robes restrained her, and unlike the other women, her hands were bound tightly behind her.

“Christ, that’s Akira,” Kendrick announced in a loud whisper then started for the dais.

“Nay.” Calin placed a firm hand on Kendrick’s chest. “Dinnae draw attention to us or our interest in her.” Calin spoke calmly enough, but his insides were erupting. If the guards dared to strike her, he was fully prepared to start a war.

She lunged at the men confining her to the platform. The woman certainly didn’t lack for spit and fire. She was a fighter. Though relieved he’d found her safe, Calin worried over their initial meeting. Introducing himself to his bride under these circumstances might prove to be an awkward task.

When she drove a knee into the groin of one of her guards, Calin recoiled and instinctively cupped his bollocks. The injured sentry grabbed a mass of her hair, twisted her sideways, and forced her to her knees. Her eyes bled desperation just as she hollered out. The high-pitch note of pain bounced off the canvas walls.

Calin’s hands fisted into tight knots. Had he been permitted to keep a weapon, these men would be skewered over the end of his broadsword. He gestured to his clansmen dispersed amongst the crowd. With the silent order, the three men exited posthaste. “Remove your hood,” he commanded Kendrick. “If possible, I want her to see ye. Mayhap ’twill calm her spirits.”

“Did I happen to mention Akira has a bit of a temper?”

“A bit?” Calin eyed him warily, but he had no time for banter now. “We will retrieve Akira by any means necessary. When we leave, she will ride with me, and I will deal with her temper.”

 
Hello everyone! Thank you so much to the ladies of Jaunty Quills for having me as a guest today! I’m celebrating the release of my 20th book, NEVER MARRY A STRANGER, a Victorian novel about a man who returns from the dead, only to discover a woman pretending to be his widow. Of course he has to figure out what’s going on—without too much scandal—so he pretends he has amnesia from his war wounds and can’t remember being married. But he’s more than willing to have her remind him!

Since I’m celebrating a new book, I thought I’d talk to you today about my writing rituals, the things I do every day. Some seem silly and obvious, but others help me get into the flow of the story, and put myself back into the scene so I can keep writing. First, my alarm wakes me up…

No, no, I’m not going to go THAT in depth. But I do manage to check my email just before I go downstairs. I write on a laptop not connected to the internet. I have to go all the way upstairs to another computer to read email, research online, etc. I would be too distracted if I could access that stuff easily. So after a check at the computer, and pouring myself a huge mug of ice water, which I refill several times a day, I head down to my office in the basement, hopefully by 8:30 or so. The first thing I do is log in. I write down the time I start and stop, and what I’ve accomplished for the day. It gives me a good feeling to page through and see that I’ve actually accomplished something on the book that’s giving me fits!

The way I get myself back into the story is to summarize the previous chapter. I tend to write about 15 pages a day, so I usually finish a chapter in there somewhere. I keep a chapter summary to one page in length, and write one small paragraph for each scene in that chapter, keeping track of important things that happened in that scene. At the bottom of the page, I even summarize the whole chapter into a couple lines. By the time I finish this, I’m right back in the story again. I use my chapter summaries when I get a revision letter from my editor. It helps me see an overview of the book, and track where I need to make changes. But sometimes, I just can’t remember where I put a certain plot point in the book, and rather than reread everything, I go to my summaries to find it with ease.

And then it’s time to write. As I said, I shoot for the daily page goal that will allow me to work five days a week, leaving me a few weeks to revise at the end before the manuscript is due. I leave my office about 1:00 to exercise my dogs, then eat my lunch while watching my soap (One Life to Live). I read emails again, and then I’m usually back at my desk by 3:30. If the day is going well, those 15 pages can be done by five, but sometimes it’s 7 or 8 before I’m done. And since life happens, if I can’t meet my goal for the day, I make it up on the weekend. And on days when I’m revising or plotting or reading copyedits or updating my website, I try to work 8 hours or so.

So that’s my writing process. Do you have your days mapped out like I do, or are you the kind of person who takes life as it comes? We’re all different, and that’s what makes the world interesting.

A few weeks ago, Young Adult author and Rita nominee Tera Lynn Childs blogged with us. We are excited to announce that Tera is no longer a Rita nominee, but a winner! The Rita is the most prestigious award in romance writing. Many of your favorite authors have one, and all of us want one. Here’s Tera’s story about the big night last Saturday.

Four nights ago I achieved every newly published romance author’s dream: I won the RITA award for Best First Book. It feels strange even saying that. The RITA has, for so long, been that “ultimate dream”– far beyond getting an agent, selling a book, and receiving a first fanmail–that it’s surreal to think it really happened. Since I haven’t quite processed these feelings yet, all I can do is share a bit of what went through my mind that night.

I had actually been nominated in two categories, and Young Adult came first in the ceremony. I’d been nominated with my two friends, Tina Ferraro and Rosemary Clement-Moore, and thought we all had a fairly equal chance. When presenter Melissa Marr read the winner’s name and title, Tina and I cheered as Rosemary went up to accept her award.

Then the ceremony went on and my mind began to drift. In my second category, Best First Book, I was up against a ground of varied and very talented new romance authors. With young adult being the sometimes overlooked baby sister of romance, I didn’t think I had much of a chance. I started thinking about my other books, my future RITA chances.

“Goddess Boot Camp isn’t very romance-y,” I thought, “but Forgive My Fins is almost entirely romance. Maybe I’ll have another chance in 2012.”

When they finally got around to Best First Book, I wasn’t nervous, not like I had been for the YA. I wasn’t going to win, so there wasn’t anything to be nervous about. Right? They flashed my slide up on the jumbo screen and I realized I’d been too nervous to really see it the first time.

Then presenter Terri Garey said, “And the RITA for Best First Book goes to…”

I remember looking down at the program, iPhone, and hastily penned (and now obviously unneccessary) acceptance speech clutched in my hands. Then I heard, “Oh.”

My mind went blank. I looked up, heard my mom scream, and blinked a lot. I stood and stared at Rosemary and Tina before finally making my way on shaking legs and very high heels to the aisle. I waited for my editor and took her hand. (A good thing, too, because I don’t think I would have made it up there without her–in more ways than one!)

Somehow, I managed to read my speech in front of two thousand people. (!!!) My parents insist that I didn’t sound like a dork or talk too fast, but I’m not convinced. I just hope I made sense. It’s a moment, a feeling, an experience I’ll never forget.

And I can’t wait to relive it next year when I will hopefully get the chance to present the RITA fir Best First Book to another writer who is about to have the moment of a lifetime.

by Carol Grace

Thanks Jaunty Quills for inviting me!

My favorite subjects in the world are travel, food and books. I manage to combine all three when I write contemporary romance for Harlequin/Mills&Boon. Which brings me to my July book from Harlequin – THE SICILIAN’S BRIDE. A few years ago I was on vacation in Sicily with my family. We rented a car and drove all over the island, visiting Baroque churches, Hellenic temples, Byzantine palaces, ancient olive groves and volcanoes like Itna, Stromboli and Vulcano. Of course we had to stop and eat – maccu, the creamy bean soup, arancine, the rice balls and vitellocalla marsala. (To mention just a few wonderful dishes the Sicilians are famous for).

By the time we left I was sure I had to write a book that took place in Sicily, where I could take Isabel, my American heroine to this magical island of Sicily to inherit an abandoned vineyard and expose her to the beauty and the lush scenery as well as the food. I wanted to give her a hero to match her determination and independence. He is local vintner Dario Montessori who wants the land Isabel inherited which was once his.

In an effort to persuade Isabel to sell him the land, Dario takes her on a tour of other available properties and plies her with delicious food and drink, and introduces her to his extended family, but stubborn Isabel wants the land she was given by her deceased uncle.

My big problem in writing these books for my editor at Mills&Boon in London is that they think I get carried away with the food and the scenery and neglect the plot. Thank heavens for editors who catch us when we stray.

I’d love to hear from readers who love to travel, either vicariously or actually. Where is your favorite destination, either a place you’ve been or have always wanted to go?

As for me, I’m dreaming of Vietnam, Cambodia and any tropical island. I will send a copy of THE SICILIAN’S BRIDE to one commenter.

by Barbara Freethy

Please welcome Barbara Freethy (the awesome woman herself, says Anne) to the blog!

Many people have asked me where my ideas come from, and although some books seem to come out of nowhere, other books I can trace to a small seed of an idea. Of course, many of those tiny seeds of ideas never actually bloom into anything, because once I start trying to figure out the story, I realize there is no way it will work. Sometimes I don’t have this realization until well into the book at which point I turn to my writing friends and ask them why they didn’t tell me this was a bad idea when I first spoke about it. This happened when I wrote SILENT RUN, which is about a woman who suffers amnesia after a terrible car accident and is running for her life, only she doesn’t know who her enemy is, because she can’t remember anything.

I hadn’t realized the challenges that would present themselves with a heroine who had amnesia. Often writers introduce character details and themes and problems in introspection, but my heroine didn’t know anything about herself, so she was no help at all. I had to find ways through her behavior, her instincts, and how people interacted with her in order to bring her character to life. It was quite a challenge. The initial seed for that book was actually the idea that a woman gets a car accident, and there’s a baby car seat in the back, but when she wakes up, she doesn’t know who she is or where her baby is. She has to save her child, but how does she start? From there the story took birth.

Another one of my ideas came from a title for an article in a travel magazine called, “Where Dragons Dance”. It was about the Chinese New Year Parade in San Francisco. From that initial thought came my book, GOLDEN LIES. I actually wanted to call it Where Dragons Dance, but the publisher voted me down. In that story, the hero takes his grandmother to the Antique Road Show with a wagon full of junk they found in her attic. They discover that the ugliest dragon statue they have ever seen is actually thousands of years old, from an ancient Chinese dynasty, and of course there’s a legend …

My latest book, SUDDENLY ONE SUMMER, which was released last week (shameless plug ) was originally thought of as Angel’s Bay, which became the name of the series. In this book, the back story came to me first while my husband and I were driving down the California coast. I thought it would be fun to create a fictional bay and town with an interesting history. My daughter had done a project on the California Gold Rush, and I remembered the stories of the people who fled San Francisco after the Gold Rush ended. The boats were too crowded and laden with gold … I wondered what would happen if one of those ships went down. And Angel’s Bay was born. From that tiny seed, I created a town, a legend about the shipwreck which included tales of treachery on the high seas, and a few other layers including a story quilt that the survivors of the wreck put together in honor of their lost loved ones. Community quilting continues to play out in the current stories.

SUDDENLY ONE SUMMER is a contemporary novel, so once I had the back story I had to create the current story. It opens when my heroine, who is on the run with a seven-year-old, commits an impulsive act of bravery, which thrusts her into the spotlight and under the nose of a very sexy, burned-out reporter, who thought he’d lost his unquenchable thirst for the truth until he met Jenna. But his desire to expose her secrets could prove fatal. In the book, the current story intertwines with the past as some of the characters discover an unknown connection to the town and its history. And what would Angel’s Bay be without a few angels?

I’m current working on book three in the series, and my latest idea sprang from a question, what would you do if you fell in love with the worst possible person? In Brianna’s case, that person is the cop who sent her husband to jail and robbed her son of his father. I’m not sure what’s going to happen next, but I can’t wait to find out!

Thanks to the Jaunty Quills for inviting me to guest blog. Anne Mallory has spent many hours at Starbucks listening to me brainstorm, and she’s given me more than a few ideas, too!

So to the writers out there, where did you get the best idea you ever had? And for the readers out there, have you ever had an idea that you think would make a great book? And if you comment, you might win a copy of my new book, SUDDENLY ONE SUMMER!

The Coffee House
A Histori-Skit by Sarah Parr
(The following piece and characters are entirely fictional, only the issue was real. Enjoy.)

London, Medford Hall
A lecture hall with two podiums before an audience of about a hundred there stand a man and a woman.

Introduction: Since the public fiasco last month, coffee houses have been under increased scrutiny. This afternoon, Elizabeth Haverstrom and Marcus Northingfrom will debate the issue. ~ Mr. Harold Tutherton, Esq

Elizabeth: Ladies and gentlemen of the London Well Being Society. London is being destroying at its foundation by the permeation of the coffee house throughout the city. Currently there are well over 2,000 of the odious structures. Rather than taking a meal with family, their lure keeps men out late, returning too exhausted for even the slightest conversation. It has even been reported that consumption of the’ nasty puddle water’ turns men impotent!

Marcus: (Shaking head.) Poor ignorant Elizabeth. This uproar is a pointless din. No medical evidences have arisen to show coffee dries properties of the spirit. In fact, according to numerous sources, there has been an increase in the number of births and a rise in the population. As for staying out late, the majority of coffee establishments offer meals for only a few pence. Is it any wonder after a day of hard labor a man would choose a meal that is readily available? This is no crime.

Elizabeth: You are a poor judge, sir. Living the sad and lonely bachelor life, you would be uninformed of the trials of marriage. Coffee houses are filled with debauchery and scandal. Even the most exclusive establishments have become disreputable.

Marcus: And yet they are used as penny posts, where anyone except turned-nose-snobbists like yourself, might have a letter delivered conveniently. Coffee houses are necessary for male interaction. It is there newspapers are read and discussed, not to mention business transpired.

Elizabeth: Business of a foul and disgusting nature, not that you would know the difference.

Marcus: (Turns from the audience to face her fully) Edward Llyod’s coffee house on the corner of Abchurch Lane has become a fixture in the shipping business. Many are used for the auction of goods, as evident in any newspaper. You must admit, coffee houses are a far better refuge than alehouses or taverns.

Elizabeth: (Ignoring him.) You can still get drunk at a coffee house. Then there is the issue of gambling, a plague, destroying lives and crippling the economy of the Empire.

Marcus: If you are referring to my loss of the one thousand pounds last year…

Elizabeth: (Whirls, squares across from him.) It would have secured our future. You promised both father and me to keep that money safe.

Marcus: Elizabeth, I’m sorry. I had hoped to make it back double fold, to buy you the home you wanted.

Elizabeth: That can’t happen now.

Marcus: You never opened my letters. I recovered the money and bought the house. I still want to marry you.

Elizabeth: (Stares at him for a long breath.) We are here to debate the future of the coffee house.

Marcus: (Crosses to her and takes her hands, kissing them). By the end of the millennium you’ll find a coffee house on every corner. Diversity in drink will be offered. People will drive up and order directly from their coach windows. Empires will be grown from the coffee plant.

Elizabeth: (Narrows her eyes, tightens her grip and nods). But not by us.

Marcus: (Searches her face and also nods). Agreed.

True to his word, Marcus prospered without frequenting another coffee house, becoming a successful masthead salesman. He and Elizabeth married and raised three children, living comfortably all their years. The popularity of the coffee house died off towards the end of the Georgian period. It lingered throughout Europe until near the end of the millennium where it was again popularized in Pike Place Market by Starbucks. Today three of Marcus and Elizabeth’s descendants are baristas.

Sarah Parr writes Georgian Historical Romance Adventure for Kensington. Check out her debut, Renegade at www.SarahParr.com