Curvy

A couple of months ago, Ellora’s Cave put out an invitation to do an interview with someone named “Curvy”. Being a more than generously proportioned woman, I couldn’t resist and signed up to do the show. As the date for my interview drew near, I decided to do a little research. You know…see what might confront me.

Curvy’s link was down.

Fortunately, I had her producer’s email address. Because of severe storms, both Vickey and Curvy had experienced extensive power outages. Curvy’s home had some significant damage.

Selfish me, I wanted to know what kinds of questions Curvy would ask. Above all, having signed up before doing any research about Curvy and her program, I wanted to know if she liked my book, Temptress of Time.

Then there was the added challenge of dialing into some kind of telephone conferencing port. What if nobody was there? What if Curvy hated the book so much, she wouldn’t even show?

Producer Vickey knew the second I signed in and we had a nice visit until Curvy joined us. A few minutes later we were on the air—me laughing, Curvy giggling as she asked me all sorts of questions. How I got started? What was my favorite story? That one I fell back on that cliché about which child I like best. Of course, I love them all.

The half hour flew by. Curvy ended the broadcast with this review of Temptress of Time: “super smokin’ sexy hotness.” And “Super sexy fun and super sexy guys.”

Can’t get much better than that!

If you’d like to listen to the interview, here’s the link: http://www.hipcast.com/podcast/HYgsQr1Q

If you want to see more about other Curvy stuff, go to curvysmuses.blogspot.com. Lots of sex toys, among other items of interest.

To everyone in Boston, MA and West, TX you're in my prayers.

Dee Brice

Erotic Fantasies Where Nothing is Forbidden

Even Muses Need Inspiration

Sometime after last Thanksgiving, my muse began to harry me to finish my most recent work-in-progress: Duty, Honor, Murder. Since I’d started to write—that is, plot it—years earlier for an online class, I was equally anxious to finish the first draft. I did, in fact, write The End on December 31, 2012.

I gave myself a round of applause, a few pats on the back and mentally added another glass of champagne to my New Year celebration. My mouth started to water, anticipating the extra large chocolate bar I’d get at my next RWA chapter meeting as a reward for finishing.

On January 2^nd I reviewed and posted my critique partners’ comments and suggestions. (I try not to start revisions until I finish the first draft—otherwise I keep fiddling until even I can’t recognize the story I intended to write.)

About the middle of February I finished adding a bunch of scenes in my latter chapters and handed everything off to my cps for what I hoped was a final review, but I found myself making excuses not to post what they’d already given me.

Now, every writer is used to the muse taking off for vacation—sometimes for far longer than we like. This time, however, my muse was waiting on me.

I looked at other stories I had started, but those were pages and pages (and pages)—all handwritten. Have I mentioned that I really hate to type? Typing is at the very top of my least favorite writing tasks—a fraction higher than trying to teach my dictation system to understand me. I have the same issue with my cell phone not recognizing commands, so I can’t blame the software—even though I’d like to.

 

Anyway…I was mired in a morass of my own making. Reduced to watching television reruns while my muse whispered foul names and threatened to leave me—this time forever.

It was while watching a program I’d recorded that inspiration struck. I realized I’d procrastinated because I didn’t have something brand new to work on; now I did! And I can type it in small increments.

If only I knew where the story was going! But that’s the joy of being a pantser—the unexpected is such fun. And the muse is celebrating with me.

Am celebrating my ménages. Check them out.

Happy Spring!

Dee Brice

Erotic Fantasies Where Nothing is Forbidden

February Flying

For such a short month, February was really busy.

It started with a radio interview set up by sister writer, Cindy Sample, on our local public radio station. Beth Ruyak, well known to Sacramento TV watchers and radio listeners, interviewed Cindy and me. Beth had a variety of guests, the first several discussing gun control, which made some listeners hot under the collar. Cindy and I built some heat of a different sort.

If you’d like to hear the interview, here’s the link: Radio Interview – Fifty Shades of Romance

http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=5JyFgnwneoo

Then, the Sunday before Valentine’s Day, we met up with two more authors from the Sacramento Valley Rose Chapter of Romance Writers of America. We talked about the different kinds of romance and how the genres have grown and are continuing to grow. Had a pretty good turn out and sold some books. From left to right: Cindy Sample, Dee Brice, Donna del Oro and Paisley Kirkpatrick.

Catch the panel discussion at: http://www.youtube.com/MarketPlaceFolsom

My publisher, Ellora’s Cave, is offering the first book in my Passion’s Treasures series for free. You may download the e-book from: http://www.ellorascave.com/passion-s-four-towers.html

And, yes, the cover model does look like Angelina Jolie--but who's complaining?

 

And then…tomorrow (heavy sigh) we’re having our income taxes computed. Oh well, oh dear. Guess everyday can’t be filled with roses and chocolates—no matter how hard I wish.

Have a wonderful rest of the month and may March fulfill all your wishes.

Dee Brice

Erotic Fantasies Where Nothing is Forbidden

Critique or No Critique

When I first became a published author, my DH was my first and only critique partner. Then I realized a couple of things. First, while his input was usually right on—and it took me a while to accept that—he was reader, not a writer. And that’s what I needed—someone who could tell me “This part drags” or “You had a pov shift here.” All that stuff another writer sees and points out (Very nicely, of course. No “This sucks” allowed.)

So if you’re on the verge of becoming published, find yourself a critique partner or two. I think you’ll find the time you spend revising based on solid criticism well worth it. Hang your ego on the porch and remember, the baby can always use a bit of spit and polish to really shine.

 Have a wonderful Sunday. I'm going to root for the 49ers to win today.

Dee Brice

Erotic Fantasies Where Nothing is Forbidden

Merry Christmas

I was going to rant about the United Nations trying to take over the internet, but that issue has been resolved--for the time being anyway. So I'll just wish everyone a wonderful Merry Christmas and a prosperous and Happy New Year.

Dee Brice
Erotic Fantasies Where Nothing is Forbidden

Happy Thanksgiving

Last month DH and I were freezing our butts off in Canada. That was after attending another blowout RomantiCon conference, this one in Canton, Ohio, sponsored by Ellora's Cave. That's where this picture was taken. DH then worked his magic, making the text within my award almost readable.

Thanks to EC, I am now an award-winning author in the category Sleeping with the Enemy for my romantic suspense It Takes a Thief.

Great fun and we're looking forward to attending next year. In the meantime, hope everyone has a wonderful and safe Thanksgiving.

Dee Brice
Erotic Fantasies Where Nothing is Forbidden.

1 Night Stand or NAUGHTY SLEEPOVER? Try my MORE THAN YOU KNOW!

He is not scrumptious?

Who is he?

The bartender at The Menger Hotel in San Antonio, Texas, Luke Hurley has the hots for one of his customers whom he sees rarely.

She kills him with her looks. And just who does she resemble?

Rita Hayworth.

This is My Main Man in my newest, out tomorrow, MORE THAN YOU KNOW from http://decadentpublishing.com .

More Than You Know by Cerise DeLand

One redhead. One bartender. Lots of laughter. A desire so tender that the sheets they burn up together could set the hotel on fire. But can he intrigue a woman who’s older? What if he never lets her out of bed? Will she still want him tomorrow?

Excerpt, Copyright 2012, Cerise DeLand. All rights reserved.

“Hi, Luke Hurley.” His redhead stood right in front of him, beaming at him so the world glowed suddenly more brightly in this dark crowded room.

“Hi, there,” he said to her, as she inched closer to the bar. “I’m so glad you came in.”

“Thish has got to be Rita. Right?” Teresa took a slow gander at the woman he had told her kept him awake at night.

“Rita?” asked the lady in question, looking humored. “I’m—“

“Rita Hayworth. You bet!” Teresa clamped a hand on his lady’s arm and peered at her like an X-ray machine. “Luke, you pegged her. That is who she looks like. Gee. Lucky you, huh?”

Rita questioned him with a sideways grin. “Luke, I—”

“Teresa is my friend,” he explained, trying to keep Rita here until he got her phone number and her real name.

“I’m his copyeditor!” Teresa put in. “His friend.”

“Yes, Teresa, and the lady would like to have her arm back.”

“Oh, don’t chu worry yourself none, Luke and Rita. I am leaving. I am!”

He turned back to his redhead. “I’m glad you came in tonight. I’ve been trying to find out your name. Went to the catering manager and asked about the wedding here tomorrow, but she says the mother of the groom is a platinum blonde and short.”

“She is,” Rita exclaimed, little chuckles escaping her.

Someone shouted out that he had to stop holding hands with the bombshell and take his order. Where was his assistant bartender? He looked around but tugged at Rita’s hand.

“Okay, okay!” Luke told him, but zeroed in on Rita. “I want to call you. Ask you to dinner or drinks. Coffee, anything. I need your phone number.”

“Really? Oh, Luke, please let me—”

“I’ll find a pencil and pad. And by the way, that gown is unbelievable.” He had to tame his voice so he could speak about the gold-sequined mermaid thing that made his cock twitch. “I think I just went blind. Don’t move.”

He strode toward the register, found what he needed and stepped toward her.

But her son and Blondie appeared beside her. Blondie was pouting. The son raked his hair.

“I’m sorry. Tamara,” Rita bit off the words, never looking at her future daughter-in-law as she took Luke’s pen and wrote on his paper. “But I am the one who brought up Josh. And I will sit in the first pew. If you or your parents don’t like it, too bad. And Josh, if your father or his new wife don’t like it, tough.”

Luke watched the family drama, realizing why he hadn’t been able to learn Rita’s name. She was the divorced wife of Mr. Silver-haired Banker. And judging from the close ages of stepmother and son, Rita might actually be wife numero dos.

The son cursed. “Tam, I want her to sit in the front pew. This is my mother, and she deserves to take precedence.”

Ouch. Luke couldn’t help but look at Rita, who locked her gaze on his and grinned.

Blondie stomped her foot. “I won’t do this to my daddy. He wants this to look good for his friends. You know how he is about marriages made in heaven and no divorce.”

“Well, Tam, next to golf, divorce is my father’s favorite pastime,” Josh retorted, as Blondie huffed and made a beeline toward the door. “Aw, hell. Mom, what can I do here?”

Before Rita could answer, he fled. To Luke’s dismay, Rita raised her hands in frustration, threw him an apologetic look and followed her son.

Luke pounded his fist on the bar and the pad of paper jumped with the blow. Numbers and words bounced around. He grabbed the sheet.

Room 428. Rita

“Ricardo!” Luke called out to his assistant, as he ripped off his bar apron. “Take over here.”