There was recently a fascinating discussion at Dear Author about accuracy in historical romances. Some very interesting and intelligent perspectives were shared. Here are my own thoughts about it. I don’t write historical romance, and I don’t read a lot of it any more. It’s not that I don’t like it, but it’s not my first love (which is contemporary) and these days my time for reading is limited.

I suppose if I read a book that was full of inaccuracies that kept pulling me out of the story, I would be annoyed. I might think less of that author because he or she didn’t do enough research, or was sloppy or careless in their world-building. I suppose there are books like that out there. But more often you’re likely to encounter a couple of small slip-ups in a book.  How serious is that to readers?

When an author writes a book, he or she is building a world. A world that readers have never been to. Whether it’s science fiction, paranormal, or contemporary, it’s still building a world. In science fiction (which I fully admit I do not read) I’m guessing that writers make stuff up. It might be based on science or scientific principles, but I bet a lot of it is made up. In my contemporary romances, I’m building a world that my characters live in that nobody else has ever seen. We may all live in contemporary settings, in houses and apartments, and work in office buildings or whatever; but nobody has ever seen the world my characters inhabit―because I’m making it up. A reviewer commented on my contemporary romance Breakaway that I had gotten the names of the NHL teams wrong. I didn’t get them wrong―I made them up. And to me, a historical romance is the same. It’s building a world that readers have never been to. Base it on reality to make it realistic for me, something I can visualize in my mind and enhance with my imagination, make it plausible―as with any fiction. But the writer is making it up.

I don’t think it is possible for an author to write a romance set in an historical setting without having some inaccuracies and anachronisms. Even scholars don’t always agree on history. We all know that personal hygiene standards were much different then than now. (Or do we?) I will admit that when I read a historical romance and the hero has perfect white even teeth I chuckle a little. In historical romances, it seems the characters do a lot of bathing, which is also apparently inaccurate. If romance characters talked the way people really talked in the middle ages, nobody would want to read it. On the other hand, few contemporary romance characters ever have morning breath. We forgive these inaccuracies because it is a romance. I guess I’m forgiving of some inaccuracies in any romance sub-genre. Yes, I’ve read books where I’ve come across a detail I know is wrong. I enjoy my little moment of smug superiority, but if it’s a good book, I move on with the story.

I guess I don’t understand reading a book for the purpose of finding things wrong with it, rather than just reading it for the enjoyment of it. So there was no such thing as yellow silk back then? I don’t care! And I also can’t imagine doing research to find out if I’m right. Oh...I know there was no yellow silk in that time period. Or do I? How do I know that? Do I know it because I read it in another romance novel? Or do I know it because I studied history in such detail? Maybe I’d better make sure I’m right before I spout off about this historical inaccuracy and do the research. No, thanks. I’d rather just accept that in that fictional world, there was yellow silk. I’d rather just read the book for the pleasure of it than spend hours doing research to prove I’m right and the author is wrong.

Do readers need to be alerted that there are inaccuracies in historical romances? Or in any romance sub-genre, for that matter? Do you want to know that she could not possibly have been driving east on Main Street in Anytown, USA because that street runs north and south? Do you want to know that that was not the type of corset women wore in 1844? Do you want to be told that there are really no such things as vampires or werewolves

Faceoff is a novella featuring Tag  Heller. You may recognize the name from my book Breakaway. Tag is the oldest of the four hockey-playing Heller brother. When I wrote Breakaway I intended all the brothers to have their own stories and when my publisher Ellora’s Cave put out a call for submissions for an “Oh Canada!” theme, I thought, what is more Canadian than hockey? So I wrote Tag’s story.

Although this book is short, it’s special to me for a couple of reasons. One is that I get to use my own city as a setting. You all may have noticed that most of my books are set in California, in either a fictional or real city. This seems to me a much more exotic and romantic location than my own city, but California is also special to me. My husband went to school there and we love to go back often to visit. But writing a book set in my own home is pretty cool! Even though I still had to spell words “funny” (favor instead of favour, canceled instead of cancelled!!) I got to talk about degrees Celsius and kilometres per hour! Also my city is pretty cool – yes we have problems with poverty and violence and crumbling infrastructure, like many cities, but we have a vibrant arts culture with a lot of theatre, concerts, the Royal Winnipeg Ballet, etc. We also love sports here – our Canadian Football League team the Winnipeg Blue Bombers has a long and proud football history, and our baseball team the Winnipeg Goldeyes are having a great season. But what are we missing...? A National Hockey League team!

We used to have an NHL team but in 1996 the owners were forced to sell the Winnipeg Jets and they moved to Phoenix to become the Coyotes. At the time, the Canadian dollar was weak and it was expensive to pay those players’ huge salaries in American dollars, plus travel to the US cost more. Also, the arena they played in was old and didn’t have luxury boxes or concession stands to generate a lot of revenue. The city was devastated to lose our team and like most, ‘Peggers, I always kept hope that some day the Jets would come back.

Which is the other reason this story is special! It is a Canadian fantasy come true—a hockey fantasy. It’s been no secret for years that two businessmen wanted to purchase an NHL team and bring it back to Winnipeg. I so much admire how they went about it, very low key. They built a new NHL quality arena, purchased a farm team and ran it like an NHL team, found financing that was solid and made it known to the NHL that they were interested in purchasing a team. There were years of rumors, disappointments and false reports of done deals, but hockey fans in Winnipeg continued to fantasize about the NHL returning.

As I worked on edits to Breakaway, it seemed these Winnipeg businessmen were very close to purchasing the Phoenix Coyotes (which were the Winnipeg Jets). Thinking ahead, I changed the team Tag Heller played for to a (fictional!) team in Phoenix (called the Stars, not the Coyotes) and when I started writing Faceoff, Tag’s story, I wrote the fantasy—the NHL had returned to Winnipeg!

I had not yet submitted Faceoff to my editor when the real life story changed—it was no longer the Phoenix Coyotes being purchased, it was the Atlanta Thrashers. I couldn’t change my story to match reality because I’d already planted the seed in Breakaway that Tag Heller played for Phoenix. Oh well. I named the new Winnipeg team the Jets in my book, even though every other hockey team I mention in Breakaway and Faceoff are fictional NHL teams—at that point we didn’t know for sure the deal would even happen and if it did, whether a new Winnipeg team would be called the Jets or something entirely different.

The day after I submitted this manuscript to my editor, the story did come true—the NHL was returning to Winnipeg! The true story didn’t play out exactly as it does in Faceoff (which is fiction), but the basis of the story is accurate and the hockey fantasy is the backdrop for the romance fantasy between Tag and Kyla. (And they did name the new team the Jets!)

Of course you’d think a Canadian-set book would take place in the winter, right? But I wanted to show that we also have awesome hot summers here (we sure did this year!) and the local culture of summer weekends at the lake cottage. We are fortunate to live near a lot of wonderful lake country. So Faceoff takes place in the hockey off season, just after the deal has been made public that the team is coming back to Winnipeg. In real life, there is no Winnipeg born and raised player on the new team, but I liked that idea of a “home town hockey hero” returning to his roots – which has its complications for Tag!

Here's an excerpt from Faceoff:

They were alone on the beach. Around the rocky point that separated the public beach from the cottages, the public beach was probably filling up with people, beach blankets and umbrellas, but here nobody else was out yet.

“You coming skiing later?” He rubbed the towel slowly over his chest.

“Sure.”

“Mom’s planning a game night tonight at our place. You’re all invited.”

Kyla nodded. “Cool. Just like old times.”

“Yeah.”

She studied him, his tanned skin gleaming in the bright sun, remembering the game nights of the past, how competitive he and his brothers were. And how competitive she was and how they’d had cut-throat games of Monopoly and Rummikub and Trivial Pursuit. She watched a drop of water slide down the side of his neck, then lower, slowly trickling down his chest. She wanted to go up on her tiptoes and lick that drop of water.

Heat suffused her body, and not from the noon sun overhead. Flashes of her dreams returned, hot glimpses of Tag naked, underneath her, on top of her. She swallowed. She lifted her gaze to his face and the heat in his eyes had her breath stalling. Tension arced between them as they stood there eyeing each other. When he looked at her mouth, her eyes went heavy-lidded and her heart began to thud.

“Oh man,” he said. He swiped the towel across his forehead, breaking the eye contact. She blinked. “Kyla.”

“What?”

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“Um...like what?” As if she needed to ask. She wanted to eat him up. But did it show that much?

He looked her in the eye again. “Your brothers would kill me.”

Her breath came in choppy little pants. Her insides went hot and liquid. “What am I supposed to say to that?” she said, her voice breathy. “We’re not teenagers any more.”

“No. We’re not.” They were both remembering the last time this had happened. A long time ago. Heat built hotter between them.

She was used to going after what she wanted. She had a plan for her career and she worked to make things happen. If she wanted Tag, why couldn’t she have him?

Last time he’d tried to make a joke of it. As if he didn’t want her. This time, older, wiser, more experienced, she could tell he did. Was he really going to let their families stand in the way of what they both wanted?

“My brothers have no say in who I...” She stopped. They’d been tiptoeing around it and when it came to saying it outright, she found she couldn’t.

He smiled, that sexy lift of his wide mouth that melted her. She couldn’t breathe. Her body thrummed with sexual tension. “Think about it, Mac,” he said, his voice low and raspy. “We may not be teenagers but we’re here with our families. Every bed in both our cottages is occupied. You’re sharing a room with a three year old. I’m sharing a room with Matt.”

She couldn’t get air into her lungs and her heart thudded wildly against her ribs. She opened her mouth to tell him that she was very good at solving problems when she heard a little voice calling, “Auntie Kywa!”

She turned to see Emily appear on the path through the poplar trees edging the beach. “Shit,” she muttered under her breath, but she plastered on a smile and reached for her niece as she hurtled toward her .

---

If you'd like to win a download of Faceoff, leave a comment here! I will draw a winner Saturday afternoon.

This week I had to make a tough decision with respect to my writing career. It was something I gave a lot of thought to over the last few months. I talked to writer friends about it, weighed the pros and cons, talked to my husband. It was difficult but it had to be done. And I did it. I'm a little sad but I'm also ready to move on, feeling more free and at peace with it.

Music is powerful for me, especially when a song speaks to me, and I listened to this song over and over this week. It really lifted me up. Sadly I could not find this version on YouTube, only a weird distorted version. Some of the lyrics:

Took a long hard look, at my life.
Lost my way, well I was fighting the time.
A big black cloud, stormy sky.
Followed me, while I was living a lie.
So heartless, so selfish, so in darkness, when all your nights are
Starless,
You're running outta hope.
But I found the strength inside to see, found the better part of me,
And I'll never let it go.
I've come a long, long way,
Made a lot of mistakes,
But I'm breathin, breathin, that's right and I mean it, mean it.
This time I'm a little run down, I've been living out loud.
I could beat it, beat it, that's right, 'cause I'm feelin, feelin,
Invincible.

http://grooveshark.com/#/s/Invincible/46fLiw?src=5

I love Hedley!!

And in other news.... The UP part of the roller coaster... I have a new sale to Samhain Publishing! Sweet Deal will be out in the spring of 2012! Stay tuned for details (Yes I know it's a far far away. But I do have three releases between now and then, including one next week- Friday!)

My critique partner and super talented author Nara Malone has a unique contest she's holding at her blog to introduce more people to the wonder of virtual worlds. Nara says: "Inner space is the true final frontier, and the Internet is an amazing example of what can happen when we use technology to facilitate a meeting of creative minds. Virtual worlds are shared inner space, a creative collective’s vision made real in a way that allows one person to walk through another’s dream, to interact with it, to reshape it into a new vision. I’ve spent weeks constructing worlds that will be easy for beginners to navigate and fun for them to explore."

Six Weeks!

Six Worlds to Explore!

Six Ways to Win!

Each week players will have multiple activities to engage in to earn points. These could be as simple as earning points for tweets or comments, or as challenging as finding hidden items in a virtual world. At the end of each week everyone who has obtained the minimum level of points for that week’s prize will be entered in the weekly drawing.

Week One: The first week is easy. You only need to enter the contest to get into that drawing. The prize is a $10.00 gift card (winners choice of Amazon or B&N).

Weeks Two- Six will present contestants with new challenges and new ways to earn points each week. Each Thursday I’ll count up points earned for the week and draw the winner for a gift card. Value of the gift card goes up each week. On the sixth week, every contestant with a score of 1000 points or more will be entered into the drawing for a NookColor.

You’ll need a Facebook account to play along, so if you don’t have one, get signed up.Nara will be posting daily contest detail updates at www.naramalone.com leading up to launch day so check there for more.

Here's a video Nara made as a preview of the first world being explored:

Faceoff will be out September 9!

Faceoff is a spin-off story from Breakaway. As you may know, the hero in Breakaway, Jason Heller, has three brothers. This is oldest brother Tag Heller's story. It's set in the off season, so there isn't a lot of hockey in it, but it's still about a hot hockey player during a hot summer week at the cottage.

I wrote this novella for the "Oh Canada" theme series at Ellora's Cave and it is a true Canadian fantasy - not just the sexy fantasy but the HOCKEY fantasy! The story features the long-awaited return of an NHL team to a city that was devastated to lose their team years ago. Yes, it's based in reality, and as I was writing the "fantasy" the story actually came true! Okay, not exactly as it is in my book, but the book is fiction after all.

Here's a tiny sneak peek at Faceoff - here are Tag and Kyla at the beach after he's just rubbed sunscreen onto her in a super sexy massage:

He went to his knees beside her, scooped his arms beneath her and lifted her. “Tag! Put me down!”

“Want to get dropped into the water or want to walk?”

“I’ll walk!”

He lowered her until her feet touched the soft warm sand. “Okay.”

She followed them into the water, wading through it up to her knees, the shallow water pleasantly cool on her heated skin. She kept walking, the water climbing higher and higher, and when it touched her stomach, she tightened her belly muscles and went on her toes. Tag turned to look at her, the water still at his thighs because of his height. He grinned. “Coming, Mac?”

She gave him a look, up through her eyelashes, as if to say, I just did, remember? His eyes darkened and her heart fluttered. Was she really going to go to his tent tonight?

“It’s cold,” she said.

“Yeah, and I need that,” he muttered. And he strode further out, then jumped to do a shallow, perfect dive. She sighed once more at the male perfection of his body, his athletic grace. And taking a deep breath, she too dove under. Cool water closed over her head, shocking her body, stealing her breath, and she emerged with a gasp. But it didn’t take long to get used to the water and she rolled to her back and floated, staring up at the blue sky and the clouds gathering right along the horizon.

“There you go,” he said. “Swimming’s good exercise.”

She kicked her feet and splashed him a little. “Why are you trying to get me to exercise?”

“It’s good for you. It’s good for your body and your mind. And your soul. Actually the best exercise for all that is sex.”

She almost sucked in a mouthful of lake water. “Okay then!” She rolled and dove beneath the surface again, kicking hard. When she came up for air, she heard him laughing. She couldn’t resist turning to look at him, at the water glistening in his hair, his eyes gleaming, his wide mouth parted in a sexy smile that tugged a curl of heat inside her.

Oh god. What was he trying to do to her? He’d practically seduced her there on the beach, touching her like that, so intimately, and her pussy clenched at the memory. Now he was flirting with her.

Maybe he was right. Maybe some hot sex in a tent was just what she needed.

This week it's Dom Week at Day Dreaming

I blogged about this once before on another blog but today I am once again struck by how social media seems to make some people immune from the "filter" we use when we speak to people face to face. Or maybe some of the people I see on Twitter don't have that filter even face to face. There's no way of knowing with people I've neve rmet in person.

Today a prominent review blog reviewed an independently-published book and gave it a fairly scathing review. There were a lot of details about the story included in the review. I will admit this would not be the type of book I would read. Apparently it was never touted to be a "romance" but rather historical fiction and apparently included some scenes of rape including repeated rape of a child that would definitely turn some readers off, me included.

But the Twitter chatter immediately began vilifying the author for writing this stuff. There were comments about not just hating the book but hating the author. And yet some of these same people have also commented that they are not the books they write. Authors of erotic romance have often had to deal with perceptions and assumptions about who they are because of what they write, and have often spoken out about this in social media. But yet they do the same thing to someone else because of something that person has written.

If someone chooses to write about subjects many people find abhorrent, does that mean he or she is a bad person?  There are very likely are people offended by what I've written. And they may have made assumptions about me because of that. I don't have to read about things I find abhorrent. But should I tell people they can't write those things? Should I make assumptions about who that person is because of what they've written? I don't want people doing that to me...

On to Week 2 at Day Dreaming and Scorching Reviews - it's paranormal romance week!

Reading this article in the guardian.co.uk yesterday got me thinking more about the publishing business and the price of ebooks and a whole lot of other random things. I noticed in the comments that a lot of people who read the article were misinformed about ebooks and digital publishing. Many of the comments on the article turned to the ebook vs print book debate, about the loss of the “richly sensual experience” that reading a print book is, etc. etc. I’m so over that debate, so I skipped over those comments.

I tried to talk to my husband last about it last night, but like many people not involved in the publishing industry there were weird things about it that he also didn’t get. Like when I talked about the price of ebooks and how so many people think they should be so much cheaper than print books, he was all in agreement because you know, it costs nothing to produce an ebook.  

Wrong.

I also thought about how maybe I’m different than many readers (and certainly many of the commenters on the guardian article who clearly aren’t talking about genre fiction books). 

Before I purchased my Sony reader, I made regular trips to the bookstore and often dropped a hundred bucks at a time. I thought nothing of shelling out $18 for a trade paperback by one of my favourite authors. That was the price they were and that’s what I had to pay if I wanted to read them. However, I rarely bought hardback books because of the price. When a book by a favourite author came out in hardback, I’d put my name on the waiting list for it at the library and wait out whether my name came up before the paperback version of the book came out.  

Another way I may be different is that I rarely sold my books to used book stores. I keep many of them, but I’m not sure why because I also rarely reread them. I have donated ones that I don’t want to keep to charities. I’ve also shared books with friends, my mom, my aunt but most often we have different tastes in books/authors.  

So having a “physical” book to keep or sell wasn’t something I missed when I got my Sony reader. Also I was thrilled to discover I could buy those $18 books for $9.99. Sometimes even less. And since I was published with smaller digital publishers, I started devouring their books at usually about $5 a pop.  

What are you getting when you buy a book? The guardian article talks about what costs going into producing a hardcover book and claim that it costs a publisher about $3.00 print and distribute a hardcover book, which might then be priced at $30 in the bookstore. Apparently there’s not much difference in costs between a hardcover book and a paperback book, but publishers produce those “premium” editions because there are people who want to buy them.

The article says “Most people instinctively feel that ebooks should be substantially cheaper than paper books, because an ebook is not physically "made": there are no printing costs. But if, says (author Robert) Levine, the real value of a book resides in the "text itself", then the delivery method shouldn't much matter. The fixed costs – acquiring, editing, marketing – remain unchanged.” 

This is very true. Here I also have to mention that many commenters on the article (and my own husband) seemed unaware of the amount of work (and expense) involved in formatting books into digital formats. You are not reading a Word document on your Kindle. With some readers, you’re reading a PDF. Other readers use other formats. When my digital publishers produce ebooks, they have to produce them in numerous formats so that most any customer can purchase that book and read it on whatever reader they happen to have. This is not easy or cheap and often gets overlooked in discussions about pricing of ebooks.

But even so, whether you buy a hardcover book that you can hold in your hands, or a digital book that you load on your reader, what are you really paying for? In the article, “Levine points out, what you're really paying for when you buy a book is something different. You are buying the "text itself". And why is that so expensive? Because the publisher will, in many cases, have paid the author a considerable sum for the right to sell it.”

Yes, the author gets paid something to write the book. Whatever kind of book it is you can be sure a lot of work and that includes blood, sweat and tears often literally, has gone into producing that “story”. And yet  I’ve seen fellow authors say they would never pay more than $3-4 for an ebook.  

Really? 

I can’t believe some authors think their work is worth that little.  

Well, maybe a short novel or novella. But a full length novel? Really? 

The guardian article points out how much Amazon has influenced this line of thinking, with their free reads, .99 books and the 2.99 price point that many self-published authors go to. They also deeply discount prices on other books. “When they first started selling ebooks, publishers argued that they should cost pretty much the same as physical books, and tried to set prices accordingly. Amazon, though, has always been in the business of driving prices down, and sought to sell them as cheaply as possible in order to gain as large as possible a share of the ebook market. In their efforts to drive prices down, Amazon has been hugely assisted (Levine points out) by the fact that they also manufacture the most popular ebook reader. Because Amazon makes big profits from its Kindle, it doesn't need to bother about making profits from its ebook sales. Indeed, if it sells ebooks at a loss, it may still be better off overall, because this will drive up sales of its Kindle.” 

One commenter made what I thought was a very salient point: “… as a writer I keep on having to say I don't write books, I write stories.”

Yes! This! I write stories. My publishers produce books! In different formats! And to me, the value is in the story that I’ve written, not the format that it’s produced in. I don't know what the right price for an ebook is, or even a print book I suppose. The market will decide that, but in the end it has to be enough for the bookseller to make money so they'll keep selling books, for the publisher to make money so they'll keep publishing books, and for the author to make money so she'll keep writing books.

This week begins The Perfect Man Event at Day Dreaming and Scorching Reviews. Up first:  Men in Uniform. Check out these hot hot authors and their hot heroes!

In honour of National Orgasm Day, here is a short excerpt from my book Power Shift, featuring...what else?

He moved again, grabbed her hips and lifted them off the bed, and then his cock probed at her entrance and she pushed back into his groin greedily. “Easy,” he murmured, one hand on the middle of her back between her shoulder blades, holding her down. “Easy, sweetheart.”

The head of his cock stroked up and down between her cheeks, for a moment resting on her anus, thick and heavy, making her shudder with forbidden pleasure. Then he directed his cock to her pussy, probing again, stretching her tissues, pushing into her, filling her with such delicious sweetness. In this submissive pose, hands bound and stretched above her head, his hands holding her hips up to him while he fucked her from behind, she could only submit to it, couldn’t fight it. She gave herself over to it and just sank into it, the edgy euphoria, the dark pleasure.

“So hot,” he groaned, sliding out and then back in with agonizing slowness. “So hot and so damn wet. Christ, Reagan. There’s no way you can tell me that didn’t affect you.”

That was true, but mainly because she couldn’t even speak at that moment, her body so sensitized and her mind so drunk on pleasure.

He slid a hand around her belly, cupped her pussy, so very lovely, his fingers playing with her clit. She jerked against him, cried out, sensation filling her, pressure building inside her, expanding all through her body, burning her from the inside out and the outside in.

He held her as he drove into her in hard, pounding strokes, shaking her body, touching nerve endings inside her that had her head lifting, had her crying out. His hand slid up her back, fisted her hair and tugged, and that final touch sent sensation sizzling from her scalp right to her womb and then it all burst, with cataclysmic force. Blistering pleasure tore through her, dazzling her in the darkness of the blindfold. She cried out again and then he went very still, uttering harsh noises that gratified her and intensified everything, every erotic, electric sensation. He fell over her, his body damp with perspiration against her back, and sank his teeth into the back of her neck, holding her like that, his arms beneath her, as if he were claiming her in some kind of primitive animalistic gesture. It thrilled her to her core.

His breath ragged in her ear, she drifted in and out, unsure how long they stayed like that until he moved away from her, leaving her body sweaty and cool. She lay there, still heady and floating.

The wedding I was at last weekend in Calgary was all about the food. It was a small wedding and they closed down an Italian restaurant for the evening to hold the wedding. The ceremony was held on the terazzo which was lovely. Then we all went inside for dinner. We ate from 6:30 until 10:00. I am not kidding. It was served "family style" with no less than 10 appetizers, 3 pasta dishes, 3 main course meat dishes with several side dshes of potatoes and vegetables. Dessert was served later out on the terazzo again, with several choices. It was amazing food and sooooo good. I love cooking and it totally inspired me to get home and start cooking and since I'm on holidays from the day job I have time for that! Sometimes cooking meals during a busy week can be a chore but during my holidays I plan to try out new recipes. Tonight, inspired by the wedding, I'm making some "small plates" for dinner including tapenade on crostini, bruschetta, Caprese salad and marinated artichoke hearts baked with Gruyere cheese.

Because I like to cook and I often include food in my books I thought I would start sharing some of my recipes, especially ones that appear in my stories. I you look up on the right sidebar you'll see a new link to Kelly's Recipes, where I will add recipes every week. Hope you'll come back and check them out and maybe try them! The picture above is Beef Carbonnade, which Zach makes for Ashlyn in my book Dream Girl.

Nothing like a great summer road trip. Yesterday we drove 13 hours across the prairies from Winnipeg to Calgary. There were a lot of things to see and do along the way but this trip we were on a mission to get to Calgary as quickly as we could for a family wedding this weekend. Our only three stops for gas, food and bathroom breaks were Regina, Swift Current and Medicine Hat.

Here's the inside of the van at 7:00 am as we set out:

Here's the Saskatchewan border








Inside the van at 11:00 am






And what is this? Snow on the prairies in the middle of July?? No! It is salt! This is Chaplin, Saskatchewan.


Many people talk about how boring it is driving across the prairies, with nothing but flat open spaces, but I actually love it. I find the prairies so open and vast, stretching miles and miles in every direction around you. It's not completely flat - there are rolling hills here and there and there is a subtle beauty in the muted colors of gold and green and grayish sage. Occasionally there are fields of bright gold canola and the roadside is lined with yellow daisy-like wildflowers.The sky is enormous overhead and you really get a sense of what a tiny speck we are on this planet, in our van on the highway that stretches miles and miles in front of us and behind us in smooth ribbons. We left in sunshine; drove through overcast skies; more sunshine; a torrential downpour; more sunshine; another downpour with a wicked thunderstorm happening in the distance with lightning and black clouds.

On the way home we'll have a little more time to stop and see more sights.

Besides reading and writing, one of the things I like to do is garden. We've been having a bit of a heat wave here and my flowers are all growing like crazy. I was so impressed with some of my pots I decided to take some pictures and show everyone. Now, I am not a very good photographer so these could probably be a lot better but here goes:

My husband the professional photographer would be horrified by the flare in the back there and I don't know what's going on with that blurry spot on the deck, but oh well. This sweet potato vine is growing like crazy. There's also million bells, petunias and verbena in there.

Another bad job with the flare of the sun off the white wall. One of my window boxes.

I LOVE how this pot turned out! I love how the brown spike, the bronze sweet potato vine and the bronze leaves of the begonias all go so well together. There's also a lime sweet potato vine and a geranium with lime green leaves. I don't even know the name of it, I bought it on a whim because it was pretty and different, and now it's HUGE.

This is my mandevilla.It loves the heat and is climbing high.

I love the weathered look of the terra cotta pot that has developed over the years. Just a simple gernium but it's so pretty.

Today is release day for Power Shift!  Read more about Gabe and how my tortured hero tortured me at Nine Naughty Novelists. Here, I’m going to talk a little about the power exchange or...as it happens in my book, a power shift.

I’m fascinated by the whole idea of the power exchange and who really has control in a relationship. Gabe is a Dominant, who wants to be in control. Has to be in control. It’s often felt that it is really the submissive who has the power, because she (and I say she only because my story features a male Dom/female sub) gives the power to the Dom. If the submissive doesn’t submit, the Dom can’t dominate. But even so, there can’t be submission unless the Dom uses the power. So it’s not just one giving something to the other—it’s an exchange.

I came across this song as I was writing Power Shift. In fact, in the opening scene at le Chateau, I mention the music of Depeche Mode playing and this is the song. You can listen to it here (and I totally suggest you listen to it when you read that scene for the full effect!) but I’m including the lyrics because I think they’re fascinating. If you try to figure out who’s talking, is it the Dom or the sub? Really, it could be either. Because it’s about an exchange of power.

Depeche Mode I Am You Lyrics

Translation in progress. Please wait...

Songwriters: GORE, MARTIN LEE

You have bound my heart with subtle chains
So much pleasure that it feels like pain
So entwined now that we can't shake free
I am you and you are me

No escaping from the mess we're in
So much pleasure that it must be sin
I must live with this reality
I am yours eternally

There's no turning back
We're in this trap
No denying the facts
No, no, no
No excuses to give
I'm the one you're with
We've no alternative
No, no, no

Dark obsession in the name of love
This addiction that we're both part of
Leads us deeper into mystery
Keeps us craving endlessly

Strange compulsions that I can't control
Pure possession of my heart and soul
I must live with this reality

I am you and you are me
I am you and you are me
I am you and you are me
I am you and you are me

There's no turning back
We're in this trap
No denying the facts
No, no, no
No excuses to give
I'm the one you're with
We've no alternative
No, no, no

In other stories I`ve written about the power exchange (that was actually supposed to be the title of Taming Tara, but someone had already used it  ) the characters are clearly defined, Dom and sub. And in Power Shift, Gabe is most certainly Dominant. But for the first time I explored a Dom who needs to give up control.

The exchange of power is based on mutual trust and respect. Part of that respect is respecting the partner’s fears and doubts, needs and wants. It’s about connecting on a different level. In Power Shift, Reagan has an instinctive sense for what Gabe wants and needs. But Gabe is in denial. Gabe believes he has to be in control, always, and he refuses to give it up to Reagan. For a Master Dom, Gabe still has much to learn. As he says, the journey never ends. Gabe learns that there will be times when Reagan needs and wants to submit to him, to give up control. But there will also be times when she needs to take control, when he needs to shift the power to her. Does he need to give up the power —or does she need to take it?

The fluidity of this in a relationship where both partners are in tune with each other’s needs and wants struck me as a power flow. This endless flow of back and forth, giving and receiving, seemed to me more like a shift of power than an exchange. When both partners are open to each other, when they care and trust and respect each other, they know what the other needs and want to give it. Or take it. And if there’s love and commitment, trust and respect, it will balance and shift back and forth.

Here are two short excerpts from Power Shift. The first is Reagan submitting, because that’s what Gabe needs at that moment:

She followed him willingly, knowing what was going to happen, wanting what was going to happen, but unsure of exactly how it was going to happen. Nerves rippled inside her and uncertainty slid down her spine. She was still confused about what had occurred at her apartment, how one minute he’d been all into it and the next pulling away, and then he’d turned all alpha and had basically fucked her brains out on her couch.

Whoa. She went all warm and liquid inside remembering. Even though it hadn’t been tender, it had still been damn hot. And she’d felt the need inside him, driving him, the need for utter control when she could see how out of control his world was feeling. So she’d given it to him, given him what she sensed he’d needed. It made her heart squeeze for him. Which was why she was there. Though she worried a little for herself, she had to do this...for him.

And here’s another excerpt where she needs Gabe to give her the power:

The point was making him feel...something. Anything. Even mild pain was something and the fact that he’d submitted to this was the most important thing. That he’d trusted her, that he’d given this gift to her so she could in turn give it back to him.

Understanding washed over her, an instinctive comprehension of what had just happened, of the gift submission was that she could give to him, and the gift his domination was in return. Tears ran down her face and she dropped the belt and stepped up to him, pressing her body against his. She leaned over his back, wrapped her arms around his big chest and sobbed against him. “Gabe, oh my god, Gabe.”

He straightened immediately, loosened her arms around him and spun around, wrapping her up against his chest. He kissed her and his face was wet too, tears gleaming in the dark stubble on his jaw. Their mouths fused and she dug her fingers into his shoulders, into the back of his neck as she clung to him, tried to climb up on his body to get close enough.

When the kiss ended, she pressed her face to his neck, both of them still holding each other so fiercely she could hardly breath. “Are you okay?” she whispered.

 

As usual I’ll give away a free book to newsletter subscribers (including any new ones who join this week and leave a comment) 

Click to join KellyJamiesonnewsletter

Men have Movember – the month of November when they grow a moustache to raise funds and awareness for men’s health. Now we women have Julyna, a month for raising funds for the research and prevention of cervical cancer. But are women growing moustaches? Oh no... the idea for women is to choose a style for their hair “down there”. You can choose to leave it au naturel, select a design from their website or create your own.

 

The idea arose from a group of women wanting to do something similar to Movember. Apparently ideas that were ruled out were muffember, bevember, and vulvember. Eventually Julyna was arrived at.

It is hoped that the added attention drawn below the belt will inspire women to take care of this area in other ways, i.e. through scheduled Pap tests or by discussing the HPV vaccine with their family doctors.

Of course this begs the question, how will people know? It’s quite obvious when men are growing moustaches, but how will people know if women are supporting Julyna by styling their er...muff?

The article I saw about this in the newspaper had indicated that there would be a pin you could wear if you were participating, but when I visited the Julyna website I didn’t find anything about that. 

I certainly support the cause and trying to raise awareness and funds for cervical cancer. I definitely support the idea of women having regular Pap tests and my daughter did get the HPV vaccine. But despite the fact that I write romance and include some pretty explicit sex scenes, I’m not sure that I’m comfortable going around advertising how I’ve groomed myself down there.  How about you?

Do you think blogging is falling by the wayside in favour of other types of social networking?  

I have to admit I’ve gotten out of my blog schedule. For a while I was pretty good about keeping my Monday, Wednesday, Friday schedule. Mondays I’d talk about my writing. Wednesdays I’d talk about what I’m reading. Friday’s would be various things, sometimes little excerpts or sneak peeks of coming books or news about new contracts.

But I haven’t had much good to say about my writing lately and I hate to write negative whiny blog posts. I keep track of what I’m reading on Goodreads, so if anyone’s interested in what I read, you can find me there. The Friday excerpts and news are still good. 

I do love Twitter. It’s short. It’s immediate. It’s interactive. It’s fun. Yes, I sometimes feel constrained by those 140 characters, but you can link to longer things if you like. Facebook – I’m still on the fence about. I like it for some things, but I have to admit to frustration about the changes they make without telling people. I find Twitter easier to interact with people because I can make lists, where in Facebook I can’t and it seems hit or miss if I actually connect with people. 

So maybe it’s time to rethink the blogging thing. 

I’m going to try to post a weekend blog with bits and pieces of things I’ve been thinking about during the week. It might be my writing. It might be articles I’ve read or other blog posts. It might be personal things. It might be things I’ve already Tweeted about or put on Facebook but can talk about at more length. It might be news about covers, releases, excerpts. But I’ll try to do a post every weekend. 

I also haven’t ruled out the idea of another serial story on my blog. I’ve done that twice before and readers seemed to like that. So stay tuned about that. Also I’ll still be blogging with the Nine Naughty Novelists every couple of weeks and we have a GREAT serial story there too! 

So...come follow me on Twitter. We have fun there! And I’m on Facebook and I’ll try to be there more often too. And I’m keeping my reading list updated on Goodreads. And check back here on weekends! There are lots of ways for us to connect!

I have a cover and a release date for Power Shift!

Power Shift will be out JULY 13.

I also did a trailer for Power Shift. I didn't plan to, it just kind of...happened. This is the firs time I've done a trailer using small quote from the book to tell the story rather than a "blurb".  You can see it here.

Here's the blurb and a sneak peek excerpt:

Gabe’s lifestyle as a Master Dom is leaving him empty and cold. Everything else in his life seems to be falling apart too. Taking a break from the BDSM scene seems like a good idea—until he meets the perfect submissive.

Reagan has started a new life as a strong, independent woman. The last thing she wants is to be trapped in another controlling relationship. Letting a dominant man like Gabe into her life could cost her everything she’s worked so hard for. But Reagan sees the emotions Gabe is keeping locked up inside, and somehow she knows how to unlock those feelings.

Gabe is determined to never lose control, show weakness, or reveal the secrets he’s hiding . But the lust he shares with Reagan breaks through his walls. Faced with a bleak, lonely future or shattering those barriers permanently, he must somehow find the strength to let himself be vulnerable so he can experience the joy and sweetness of love.

EXCERPT:

She arrived back precisely on time, an hour pretty much to the damn minute, and he grabbed his camera and his laptop.

“Do you want me to drive?” she asked.

“No.” He would drive. That road through San Marcos Pass was insane and there was no way he was riding as a passenger with someone whose driving skill he had no knowledge of or confidence in. “My vehicle’s right over here.” He led her to his old Jeep.

“I don’t mind driving.”

He stopped dead. Turned and looked at her. “Do you have to argue with everything I say?”

She blinked at him. “I’m not arguing. I merely said I don’t mind driving.”

“You’re doing it again!”

She stared at him, her pretty lips pressed together. Her caramel-colored eyes flashed sparks. “What do you want from me?” she asked coolly. “Do you want me to lie down and roll onto my back like a submissive dog?”

Oh hell, she did not just say that. He stared at her, taking in the pulse fluttering beneath the thin tender skin of her throat, the flicker of her eyes.

“You’d like me to just agree with everything you say, wouldn’t you?” she continued. “Just defer to you on every decision, no doubt. Let you control when our meetings are, where our meetings are and who should drive.”

Uh, yeah. That was what he wanted. He wanted control. He was the Master Dom of Le Château and he set the scene.

But this wasn’t a scene, and he’d walked away from all that until he got his head on straight.

He sucked in a long breath, breaking eye contact with her for a brief pause. He was acting like an idiot, yet again. Gathering up all his self-control he looked back at her. He smiled reluctantly. “Yeah,” he said. “That’s pretty much what I want.”

Several beats of tense silence passed. And then she smiled too. “Well, at least you’re honest.”

Last night something really good happened.

Heh.

I was having a bath, reading a book, and my mind kept wandering from the book to my own WIP.

That hasn't happened for a long time.

Since Friday morning I've written about 8000 words and that hasn't happened for a long time either.

As I was reading, I kept thinking about my characters and what they believe in and some things that are going to cause problems for them, and that made more more excited to keep working on the story so I can find out how they deal with those problems  :-) And that makes me feel so good because I haven't been that excited about a WIP for quite a while.

Okay I don't know if I ever did a sneak peek for this book - Power Shift. I think I was waiting for the contract to get all signed and sealed but we had a small problem due to the postal strike here and I ended up having to resend it to the Ellora's Cave office. I don't have my copy back yet, but apparently it arrived and we've already started edits, so I think we're good to go!

This could be Gabe

The hero of Power Shift is Gabe Pejovic. You may remember him from Power Struggle -- he was the Master Dom of Le Chateau who was Tori's play partner and then helped her and Dev figure things out. A number of readers and reviewers commented that he should have his own story, and I thought so too, so this is it!

I'll write more about this book closer to release (the date of which I do not know, but I expect it won't be too long) but for now here's a tiny unedited excerpt:

The bathroom door opened and light spilled briefly into the room before he flicked the light off and walked back toward her. He was incredibly beautiful, big, strong, his body perfect-male shaped, wide at the shoulders, narrow at the hips. His face was in shadow as he approached her and she watched, made herself sit still despite all her confusion and misgivings.

“I’m sorry,” he said, stopping in front of her.

She had to force herself not to stare at his groin, which was where she wanted to look. Even unaroused, he was impressive, his cock resting on his testicles, still thick and beautiful. She tilted her head back and met his eyes.

“You don’t have to apologize,” she said. “But you could tell me what happened.”

His mouth tightened just slightly, his face drawn into austere lines. “It’s nothing.”

“Oh Gabe.” She reached for his hand, so big, calloused on the palms, rough on the fingertips, so masculine and strong. She pulled him forward and he sat beside her. “Just talk to me. Tell me what you were feeling. You know...” She hesitated.

“What?”

“I could take it personally. I could think that you had big regrets about sleeping with me.”

“Christ no!” His shock reassured her, gave her confidence to push forward.

“But you can see why I might think that.” She still held his hand, in both hers, rubbing her thumbs over the back of it.

He sighed.

“So for that reason alone, I deserve to know it wasn’t me,” she continued. “Right?”

“Oh Reagan.” He sighed. “There are thing about me...you don’t want to know.”

“Oh.” She considered that. Truthfully, she didn’t need anyone else’s crap dumped on her. She had enough of her own. And yet...she’d found an amazing way of dealing with her own problems had been by helping others. And also...she found she wanted to know. And wanted to make things better for him. Was this one more challenge in her journey? “So did I just sleep with a psycho? Or is it your midlife crisis again?”

He choked on a laugh and her insides warmed that she’d made him do that. “I’m not a psycho, but I am a bit fucked up.”

She sighed. “Jeez, Gabe, aren’t we all?”