Jacquie D'Alessandro | Time for the TOP Three Questions -- Author to Reader!

Hey everyone! I’m really excited to be here blogging with you! I thought it might be fun to reveal to you the top three questions I’m most often asked by readers. Starting at number three: What made you want to become a romance writer? The answer is, my love of books. I can’t remember a time when I didn’t love books. As a kid I loved Nancy Drew. Thanks to Nancy I wanted to solve crimes, travel to exotic locations, and find a guy like Ned Nickerson—smart, loyal, and heroic. I also loved the Cherry Ames series. Thanks to Cherry I wanted to join the Army and be a nurse. Then came Vicki Barr, the airline stewardess (bet you can’t guess what I then wanted to be??). Then I graduated to Agatha Christie and my family was grateful that those books didn’t inspire me to become a criminal, although reading about Miss Marple did inspire me to learn how to knit—not with very good results, I’m afraid. I managed to eek out one very crooked, bunched up scarf and half of an argyle sock. (have you ever tried to knit an argyle sock??? There’re like 12 bobbins hanging off the needles—nothing but knots, it gave me cramps and stress and ugh—awful. But I digress:) .

As a teenager, I discovered romance novels, which inspired my romantic imagination. I spent hours lost in the glamorous worlds those romance authors created. Even my favorite mysteries soon became the ones that had a romantic element weaved into them. Looking back, I can see how all these book influenced by future career choice. As a teenager, I was a candy striper at the local hospital for four years—a very rewarding experience that proved beyond any doubt that I did not want a nursing career. I spent two years during college in Army ROTC. A rewarding experience that proved beyond any doubt that I did not want an Army career. (are you seeing a pattern here?). After college, I spent the next ten years working in the airline industry—thank you, Vicki Barr--not as a flight attendant, but I still got to visit those exotic locales Nancy Drew had planted in my mind. And even though I never dated anyone named Ned, thanks to my romantic notions, I did manage to find that smart, loyal, heroic guy. After loving romances so much for so many years, a light bulb finally blinked on in my brain and I wondered if I could actually write one myself. Turns out—after much trial and error—that I could.

The number two question readers ask me is: Where do I get my ideas. The answer is: everywhere—TV, newspapers, radio, songs, overheard conversations. Everything is fodder. Don’t say you haven’t been warned. :)

And the number one question I am most often asked by readers is: What is the best thing I’ve ever written. I always answer this question the same way: The best thing I’ve ever written is “the end.” For the writer in me, there is no greater sense of accomplishment than typing those two words 400 some-odd pages later. It’s a euphoric feeling (always accompanied by a boatload of tears!) of Yes! I did it! Unfortunately, soon after that euphoric feeling, reality thumps me on the head and I recall that now that I’ve typed “the end”, I’m going to have to do some laundry because my family has named the mound of accumulated dirty clothes “Mount D’Alessandro.”

Well, those are my top three questions—and I’m hoping you’ll have more for me! And I have three for all of you: 1) What was the first romance you ever read? 2) What are your top five fave books of all time (doesn’t have to be romance), and 3) If you could have dinner with any person (be they dead or alive, famous or not), who would it be?

Jacquie D'Alessandro

http://www.jacquied.com/

Tara Janzen | Book series and automotive infatuation.

One of the questions I’ve been getting asked a lot lately is if my new book, ON THE LOOSE, is still part of the CRAZY series, and the answer is Yes! All of the same characters from Steele Street and SDF, Special Defense Force, are in the LOOSE series of books. We’re still at the chop shop in Denver, dear readers! Much to my surprise, while tramping through the wilds of El Salvador with C. Smith Rydell and Honey York in ON THE LOOSE, I came across another lost chop-shop boy from Steele Street, and his story is told in CUTTING LOOSE, which comes out in January.

So many people who have read the books have fallen in love with the cars, all those beautiful American muscle cars from the sixties and seventies, the ones with engines so big the insurance companies balked at underwriting them. In one instance, they did more than balk. By refusing to insure the cars, they actually shut down production on Don Yenko’s 1969 Chevy Yenko “SYC 427” Novas. Yenko converted thirty stock SS-396 Novas into the barely street legal monsters, before the insurance companies got cold feet. Marrying that much power to something as relatively small and light as a Chevy Nova made a car that even Yenko considered “a beast, almost lethal.” Which, of course, is why I had to have one in the books! She’s named “Mercy,” because she has none, and of course, she’s raced by a girl who blows the tires off everything that goes up against her.

The first car in the books is Jeanette the Jet, a 1969 Camaro with a 383 LT1 stroker under the hood – my dream car. Or so I thought until I met Angelina, a 1970 Chevelle SS 454, Black Cherry with black racing stripes. And then came Coralie, a 1967 Pontiac GTO, Signet Gold with a 360-horse Ram Air 400. She stole my heart – up until I met Charlotte the Harlot, a 1968 Shelby Mustang CJ428, Candyapple Red with white stripes.

So what do you think? What’s the toughest, coolest car to ever come out of Detroit? Or does your favorite rubber-souled machine come from someplace else? If so, let me know. Right now, I’m spending my days dreaming of another 1970 Chevelle SS 454, the rare and wondrous LS6. Can anybody beat that for sheer heart-pounding, automotive infatuation?

Tara Jenzen

http://www.tarajanzen.com/

Linnea Sinclair - THIS IS MY HALLOWEEN COSTUME…

Trick or Treat! I’m disguised as a blogger today. Usually I look like a science fiction romance author, which means I look a lot like a middle-aged woman in rimless glasses, cropped sweatpants, a ratty pink t-shirt emblazoned with MY NAME’S NO, NO BAD CAPTAIN, WHAT’S YOURS?, and lime green Crocs. But today, in honor of Halloween, I’m disguised as a blogger. Meaning I’ve switched out the lime green Crocs for my fuchsia pink ones in the Mary Jane style.

As you can probably surmise, there’s not a whole lot of difference in the costume. Nor the author. You see, for most people Halloween is the one day they get to dress up and be someone else. For me, every day I get to be someone else on paper (or my computer’s screen, more likely).

Authors live in a perpetual Halloween state.

Scary, no?

This past month I’ve been (mostly) Captain Chaz Bergren. She’s a gutsy gal, late thirties, dealing with being court-martialed for a crime she didn’t commit, and dealing with the love of her life being someone—and something—she never expected. She’s making a return appearance in my 2008 release from Bantam, SHADES OF DARK. Those of you who’ve read GABRIEL’S GHOST (my 2006 RITA award winner) met her and Sully as they sliced through the neverwhen in stolen starships. Chaz and Sully are back with a vengeance. So are the bad guys.

When I’m Chaz, I’m wearing soft but solid work boots (the kind that you can run down starship corridors wearing without falling flat on your face. Hence, no heels). Black fatigue pants (need those pockets) and a dark green pullover shirt. Enviro on a ship can be spotty. Space is cold. Forget those skimpy, off-the-shoulder outfits you see on television space shows. You need something comfortable, something you can work in and sleep in, if necessary.

But because I have a book coming out November 27th (Blatant Self Promotion! Check out The Down Home Zombie Blues!) I occasionally have to doff Chaz and become Commander Jorie Mikkalah. She has her own wardrobe and her own set of problems.

For one thing, she’s stuck here on Earth. Florida, actually. Not so oddly, that’s exactly where I am: Florida. So Jorie’s a little less concerned about starship enviro systems (what you and I might call air-conditioning or central heat) and a lot more concerned about blending in with the local nil-techs. Nils, she calls us for short. See, we’re a bit behind her civilization. More than a few centuries behind. Jorie would give anything for a four-seater gravripper in which to zip around our planet. She’s stuck with an aging Ford SUV that couldn’t hit hyperspace speeds if her life depended on it.

Unfortunately for Jorie, it does.

So the costume I don when being Jorie is not just her outfit, complete with technosleeve and attendant gizmos, but her attitude. She’s tough, capable, competent—and totally lost.

Jorie took the book, tapped on her wristbeam, and scanned the first few pages. It would be too much to ask, she supposed, that the entire universe be civilized enough—and considerate enough—to speak Alarsh. "Operating instructions for the vehicle’s pilot." As the engine chugged quietly, she found a page depicting the gauges and read in silence for a few moments. "I think I have the basics." She tapped off her wristbeam, then caught Trenat’s smile in the rectangular mirror over her head. "Never met a ship I couldn’t fly, Ensign. That’s what six years in the marines will teach you.”

The vehicle’s control stick was between the two front seats. She depressed the small button, eased it until it clicked once.

The vehicle lurched backwards, crashing into one parked behind it.

"Damn!” She shoved the stick again and missed a head-on impact with another parked vehicle only because she grabbed the wheel and yanked it to the left.

Herryck bounced against the door. "Sir!"

"I have it, I have it. It’s okay." Damn, damn. Give her a nice antigrav hopper any day.

Her feet played with the two pedals, the vehicle seesawing as it jerked toward the open gate.

"I think," Herryck said, bracing herself with her right hand against the front control panel, "those are some kind of throttle and braking system. Sir."

"Thank you, Lieutenant. I know that. I’m just trying to determine their sensitivity ranges."

"Of course, sir." Herryck’s head jerked back and forth, but whether she was nodding or reacting to the vehicle’s movement, Jorie didn’t know. "Good idea."

By the time they exited onto the street, Jorie felt she had the nil-tech land vehicle under control. "Which direction?"

"We need to take a heading of 240.8, sir." Herryck glanced from her scanner over at the gauges in front of Jorie, none of which functioned as guidance or directional. "Oh." She pulled her palm off the control panel and pointed out the window. "That way."

Fortunately, she has Theo to help her. Florida homicide detective Theo Petrakos. Which meant when writing ZOMBIE, I got to dress up as a cop, too.

Theo pushed the traffic gates shut, then set the Park Closed sign in place. Jorie had told him to go home once the park was clear. But he was not going home until this batch of zombies was dead and that PMaT thing was spewing Rordan’s unworthy molecules all the way back up to the ship.

He turned the lumbering vehicle back toward the ball field, parked it just behind the row of low bleachers, and got out. Jorie trotted toward him, frowning. He leaned on the front of his SUV, arms folded across his tac vest.

"I’m staying."

She glared at him. He glared back. When she flung her arms wide in exasperation and let out a now familiar sounding string of Alarsh curses, he knew he’d succeeded. A mixture of elation and relief washed over him.

Which ended a split second later when a discordant wail erupted from the scanner in Jorie’s hand—and echoed out of one dangling off Tammy Herryck’s hip.

Jorie favored him with one last hard glare—partially obscured by her eyepiece—as if to let Theo know he was now edging his way to the top of her shit list, then she thrust one of her small laser pistols into his outstretched hand.

"Opticals, remember?" she asked, teeth gritted. She swung her rifle around. "And legs. Stay with me."

Opticals. Eyes. And legs. And writhing energyworms and long, flailing, razor-sharp extenders. He sprinted after her to where red-haired Tammy stood, rifle in one hand, scanner in the other, then stopped. Both women’s heads were bent over their scanners but, damn it, no one was looking around. Someone should be. He remembered the green glowing circle, the thing oozing out—impossibly—from its center. He turned, squinting through his sunglasses into the late afternoon light.

Something slammed him from behind, crushing him to the ground. Grass, dirt, and gravel were pushed into his face, and he heard his sunglasses crack. Then, with sickening clarity, Theo realized he could no longer breathe.

Okay, so maybe sometimes that particular costume is a bit scary. But that’s all part of the fun, isn’t it? Something that makes your heart race a little faster. Something that makes your palms a bit sweaty. Even though you know the set-up is a romance. There will be that promised HEA: Happily Ever After. That’s the sweet treat. The extra-crispy dark chocolate crunch bar—a big one—you find when you get to the bottom of your Halloween bag. The one you really savor.

Then you put on your Halloween costume—oops! I mean start writing another character, and go back on the streets (or chapters) for more.

Trick or Treat!

And my latest treat: a 4-1/2 star, Top Pick review from Romantic Times BOOK reviews magazine for THE DOWN HOME ZOMBIE BLUES:

Quirky, offbeat and packed with gritty action, this blistering novel explodes out of the gate and never looks back. Counting on Sinclair to provide top-notch science fiction elaborately spiced with romance and adventure is a given, but she really aces this one! A must-read, by an author who never disappoints.

Now that’s even better than chocolate.

~Linnea

http://www.linneasinclair.com/

Lois Greiman - Fantasy Freebies!

Hey, I have a new Christina McMullen UN-mystery (Unmanned) coming out at the end of the month, so…in honor of Christina and her less than stellar dating history, I ask: Who’s your fantasy freebie?

Okay, I understand that some of us have husbands/boyfriends/significant others who wouldn’t agree to a freebie even if the seven horsemen of the Apocalypse were thundering down on us from the sky. But if you could spend the night with anyone free of guilt, blame, and venereal disease, who would it be?

Christina and I discussed this at some length. It was a difficult task, sitting around with my imaginary friend, thinking about hot men, debating their various attributes/body parts, but for you Fresh Fiction readers…anything.

Anyway, we came to the conclusion that while physical appearances can hardly be discounted (let’s be honest--we’re all shallow here) there are actually other factors which might be more important. Attitude, for instance. Personality. Then there’s that strange inexplicable thing I’ll simply call the ‘wow’ factor.

After this long cerebral discussion, Christina was rather chagrined to admit that her choice would be Colin Farrell, because even though she’s an intelligent woman with a PhD, she has a thing for bad boys with inarticulate Irish accents. (You have to forgive her; she once bought a picture frame that was sold with a photo of a hot guy. She kept the guy in the frame, gave him a name and a history and claimed him for her own. Christina’s got some problems, PhD and all.)

But, I digress.

As for myself, I’m going to have to go with Viggo Mortenson. But it can’t be just the run-of-the-mill Mortenson…it has to be the Aragorn version of Mortenson. He has to have the hair and the sword and that novel-inspiring ‘bring on the hounds of hell’ look in his eye that makes men bristle and women go all noodley. I want the whole enchilada, sour cream and all.

So….what about you? What’s the most important element you look for in a freebie? And…considering those elements…who’s your ultimate pick? Who’s the one person you’d want to spend one mind-bending, bone-melting night with?

State your preferences,by entering my one day only blog contest ladies. I’ll be giving away a signed, fresh off the presses copy of Unmanned to one fantasizing commenter.

Jodi Thomas | How do we get back up when we fall.

When considering a topic, I've decided to go with one few writers talk about--How do we get back up when we fall.

In my writing career of nearly twenty years, like most writers I've had my ups and downs. Once, just after my fifth book came out, my numbers were so bad my editor assured me I wouldn't be writing another book for them, except for the fact I'd signed a two book contract. I was down and almost went back to teaching. I'd already written book six, so I decided to try one more time. I won a RITA with that sixth book.

Since then I've learned to take the ups with the downs. I love the ups---the awards, the lists, the money---but I think it's been the downs I've had that have taught me the most in this game of writing. Sometimes I've learned to try harder. Sometimes I've learned to trust myself.

This year I decided to take another chance. With my next Historical Romance, TEXAS PRINCESS coming out in November, I'm hard at work on something different. In April I'll have a book of a different kind released. TWISTED CREEK, I can only hope my readers love it as much as my agent and editor do. This was the first book I've ever written with the door closed. No one saw it before I mailed it. I needed the story to develop without suggestions.

Now, don't think I'm leaving historicals, I love writing them and I'm in the middle of a series. I think I've been very lucky in my life to step so easily into the past and meet some really nice people there. In TEXAS PRINCESS, I enjoyed the adventure of my characters. Sometimes it seems like the stories already there, I just have to find it. This book ran full speed out of my head. I'm at home in the ranch setting.

I'm looking forward to chatting with you all.

Jodi Thomas

http://www.jodithomas.com/