The End

Well, it wasn’t really a The End, more of an Until Next Time.

Yes, my editor will be happy to know I finally (cough*6monthslaterthanIwanted*cough) finished the sequel to Accidentally Were? I haven’t quite decided what it’s title will be yet.

Of course just because I finished the first draft doesn’t mean my editor gets to see it in any great hurry — there’s a whole lot of editing to go on yet. All the fine little details that you might miss first time around that make bare bones scenes nice and lush. I’m hoping for the end of the week… maybe. The other job has to take precedence this week — If I ever manage to get my sewing room tidied up enough to find anything.

Better get back to it I suppose. Damn I hate cleaning!

More to love

If you’ve read any of my books you’ll know that I’m a fan of the plus sized heroine. That means size 14 and above, not the Hollywood ideal that a size 10 is plus sized.

From Jo to Bea, Wren to Pearl, and Sam to Emma my plus-sized heroines have found themselves men who love them, generous curves and all.

I wrote my stories with these heroines for a specific reason — I’m writing what I want to read. Real women – no I’m not saying fat is ‘real’, just that a sz 14 is more realistic for the average woman than a size 4 or 6 – meeting real men (okay, I caved a little on the men, but hey, Rex in Accidentally Were? is a big hairy bear of a man) who fall in love with them as they are. Outside of Chicklit – where, face it, they usually get ‘skinny’ to get their ideal guy – it’s damn hard to find women of size battling the bad guys, solving the crimes and saving the day. I like to write stories about women doing exactly that. Well, saving the day maybe, suspense and crime drama storylines seem to be eluding me at the moment 🙂

Why am I rambling on about heroines with more to love? The ladies over at Smart Bitches, of course! They have an interesting topic up today: The Plus Size Heroine – the one who’s well adjusted. A topic near and dear to my heart.

Frankly, no woman is ever happy about her shape. If there’s not too much, there’s not enough. If the weight is right, the proportions are not. It webbles, it wobbles, and horror of all horrors… it all falls down! It’s universal – fat, thin or in between. Seriously.

As a plus sized woman I don’t want to read the ‘I’m so fat, and he’s my gorgeous gym instructor and he will only love me when I’m thin’ story line. I also don’t want to read the story that is ‘my life is so bad because I’m fat’ or the ‘I’m fat so I don’t deserve any better’ either.

I want to read stories with kickarse heroines who save the day, who worry about all the same things every woman worries about and finds a lover who thinks a bit of junk in the trunk (or hood in my case) is just what he needs keeping him warm on a cold winters night. NOT A STORY ABOUT A FAT WOMAN.

There is a difference. A really fricking huge one (no pun intended). Confidence.

People don’t like to read about size 4 Mary Sue whining her little head off about not being pretty enough, and they sure don’t like reading about Mary Sue’s size 18 sister whining about not being skinny enough. But they do love reading stories about women who have confidence (or find it over the course of the story), who get on with doing what they have to to succeed/live to fight another day/beat the bad guy/save the world — why not have that woman be a size 18? Make your heroines as diverse as the world live in, embrace all the different sizes and colours of women the world over.

Romance novels are a fantasy, an escape, it’s said. Well my fantasy includes a size 18ish woman, in some kick arse, sexy as hell 3 inch heels beating the fuck out of a bad guys goolies (with aforesaid heels), before reapplying her lipstick and making out with the hunky geek neighbour who’s in absolute awe of the beautiful amazon next door – not one of the Olsen twins on a ‘fat day’.

You know, that really is a good idea for a plot line. **scribbles on idea pad**

PS Imagea are of Fluvia Lacerda an intl sz 16 model pretty damn sexy – no?

Available at ARe…

Accidentally Were? is now available at All Romance eBooks!

Pearl and Rex have even made the front page What’s Hot list!!
If you’re a ARe fan, you can find all my books listed here. I’m going to hazard a guess that AW? will be up at Fictionwise sometime in the next week, too.

Tea for Three has been doing well at Fictionwise, going up and down in the later half of the Top 10 highest rated list for Loose Id. If you’ve purchased a copy of any of my books at either site, I’ll beg shamefully for you to go add your review of the story. It’s horribly tacky, but it’s a great pump to an authors ego to see their name in flashing lights 🙂

A tidbit from my WIP…

“Prophecy smophecy, Pandora’s jar my arse.” Shaun muttered to herself as she yanked on the old, pitted, sadly-lacking-in-chrome door handle on her car. “I know some Greek mythology and I saw Tomb Raider, Pandora had a box, not a jar, and Pandora let all the evil out into the world. I’m so not all about the evil.” Although, there was a certain sort of piquancy to the Pandora myth and how she was the first woman — a beautiful evil — sent down by the gods to punish men.

She had to use her whole hand to press down the button on the handle, and then when it unlatched use both arms to pull the door open. No swift getaways in this baby; the damn door weighs a tonne, let alone the whole car. The car was new — well, it was a ’58 Edsel Bermuda, so it was new to her — and since it was definitely a work in progress, she had a lot of kinks to work out, or at least learn to work around.

“Not evil. The jar wasn’t anyway, whether Pandora was evil is still open for debate.”

Having opened with a groaning, metallic creak the car door reached the point in it’s arc where is moved freely. Taken off guard by the words coming from over her right shoulder Shaun wasn’t paying all the attention she should to the heavy door and as she twisted to face the speaker she was jerked around and into the door with an “oof” of stolen breath. Pain shot up her arm from where she’d twisted then fallen on her wrist, and she cried out, pulling her wrist up to her chest to cradle it.

“Hey, are you okay?”

When she looked up, it was into Jak’s concerned face. “Yeah, just sort of landed funny.” Shaun shook her hand out, trying to relieve the sting in her wrist, “Like when you land on your funny bone — stings a bit like that.”

Fingers, smooth and slightly cook to the touch, wrapped around her wrist and stilled her movement. “Let me feel.”

Jak’s fingers ran over her skin, pressing firmly, yet gently, easing the taut tendons when he came to them. He concentrated on her wrist with intensity, and his touch was oddly the most intimate, sensual single thing she’d experienced in her life. “Nothing broken I don’t think, just a light sprain.”

Caught up in the sparks flooding her system from the vampire’s touch, Shaun was embarrassed to realize she was staring up at him, mouth no doubt wide open, while he patiently waited for a reply. His lips flirted around a smile as Jak watched her back.

“I–It’s–that is, I’m sure you’re right.” She jerked her hand out of his and absently rubbed her fingers over the skin he’d touched, not sure if she was trying to rub the tingles in, or rub them off. Like little butterfly wings they danced along in her blood stream fluttering in her belly… and lower. She tingled in places even she’d not been able to make herself tingle before, let alone one of her loser boyfriends.

“It’s late, I better go.”

Shaun turned, and moved to slide onto the big bench seat only to freeze in place when a growly, rough voice yelled out, “What the hell is that heap of junk?”

She straightened, the fluttering butterfly wings in her belly stuttering to a halt as plain old annoyance took a hold. Trust Rob to ruin a perfectly good moment.

“It’s not a heap of junk, it’s a classic.”

“No it’s not, it’s a rusted out clap trap–”

“No, it’s not. It’s an Edsel.” Shaun moved down the side of the car and ran her hand tenderly along one of the fins that stretched down to the rear. Then turned back to Rob with her hands on her hips. “Clarabell’s in the middle of a bad hair decade, but I plan on fixing that.”

Making progress… sort of…

Despite the rush of early this year (Jan and Febs releases) 2008 has been pretty damn slow for me. I’ve had a lot of trouble getting on track and getting my fingers to the keyboard, despite all my best efforts.

What makes it so hard to sit my arse in that chair and type? One was I let my little reading addiction get away from me. I read fast. Really fast. And there’s this little thing in my head that says “we’ve done enough of that, let’s read a book” — much like some people have the ‘must clean, NOW’ deal going on. Frankly, the must clean thing would be a hell of a lot more useful!

But I’m endevouring to get myself on track.

I’ve put about 4k on the AW? sequel this week, finally getting the first sex scene down on paper. I really want to get it done and to my editor in the next two weeks. I think we are done with edits on Curious Intimacies, or at least the editorial ones. This is my first book with EC so I assume I’ll get line edits back to go over. CI is a short little story, and it seems I’m finally getting a clue with this writing lark, so edits weren’t strenuous. No release date yet, but I’m hoping for sometime this year (fingers crossed!).

Next on the list from there? CI2 – It makes sense to send that to EC regardless of contractual obligations, then there’s this trio of stories I started working (outlines, not editing) with my LI editor on at the beginning of the year. They revolve around three guys who might just possibly be selling themselves a little short.