What To Wear?

Tonight I'm heading to my first-ever function at the country club in my community. I've never thought of myself as a part of the country club set, so I've been puzzling for days over what to wear this evening. Fashion etiquette has evolved, or in some cases, disappeared, making it impossible to know what is appropriate attire for a country club Christmas party.




When I was young, fashion was simple. You wore dresses to church and school. When you came home from either, you immediately had to change out of them and into play clothes. Often on Sundays, we'd go from church to my mom's sister's house, so Mom packed play clothes for us to wear during these visits. How times have changed.

I'm writing books set in the Regency era right now, and the fashion dictates are strictly adhered to, if you are lucky enough to be a member of the Ton. Often, a great portion of your day was spent changing from one appropriate gown to another, with help from a full staff who took care of your clothing. Thank goodness, how times have changed.

My brother was in town recently and we stopped into a men's clothing store in Pinehurst. While he was trying on very expensive jackets, I chatted with the salesman, who told me that even though I work from home, I still needed to dress as if I were at an office. I countered his argument by saying I write romance so it's only appropriate that I show up for work in my pajamas. He got a sly grin on his face, and said no, I should show up for work in the finest lingerie. The man did have a point.

So, while I ponder what to wear this evening, I ask you: What are you wearing?

I Can Relate Anything To Editing!

Right now, I'm frantically going through the mortgage process. Form letters, 1099s from years ago, bank statements, etc. If you've ever purchased a home, you know the drill. At the same time, I'm going through my manuscript a chapter at a time, trying to piece together the story line. These two simultaneous events have made me realize how similar they are. Allow me to explain.

My manuscript is a Regency, which has its own set of rules and regulations. I have to stop every time I mention a device and check (had the steam engine been invented by 1823? What style of gown was worn for everyday versus evening? Were shawls used or coats?)

Each detail needs verification. Same thing with the mortgage–every bank in which I have money has to be documented.
This particular manuscript features a Scottish hero, which presents its own set of problems–what do you call the pouch that's part of a proud Scotsman's attire? How is the Scottish accent different from the English accent and how can it be described in words? Same thing with the mortgage documentation. Some of the forms that I need to get to them are 3 feet long. How do you copy something like that? I tried several different times, copying 11 inches at a time and then piecing them all together before finding the same document on-line and could download it as a pdf file. The mortgage company wouldn't accept my copy and paste job but they gladly took the pdf.

Then there's the final checklist.

As I mailed off the package to the mortgage company, I compiled a list of everything that it contained. Only then did I realize I'd forgotten one thing or another. Same with my manuscript. I have a checklist that I use and scour each chapter with, looking for overused words, wrong words, equal representation of the senses, etc. Both of these steps are laborious, tedious, and absolutely essential to getting the proper result.

Hopefully, both the mortgage and the manuscript will be finalized within weeks of one another. Then, I'll wipe the slate clean and move on to the next project–unpacking my stuff that's been in storage for months and unpacking my ideas for the next book in my Regency series and start putting everything together again. Stay tuned.

Time To Get Moving

It finally happened! I found a place in North Carolina to call home. It only took four trips, four different realtors, and seeing the inside of more homes than I care to enumerate. Now my days are spent compiling documents for the mortgage company instead of planning my next trip. Much more sane, but still as stressful.

If all goes well, I'll be permanently ensconced in my new dwelling by mid-March and life can return to normal. Which is excellent timing, since the release of my new western, Gambling On Forever, happens on March 1. And the next book in my Regency series, Losing Lily, is due to the publisher in mid April for a June release date. I've been working on that story here at my friend's home and at the local library, but I miss my desk, my reference books, and my own office.

But in the meantime, here's the cover of Gambling On Forever, and a little bit about the book:

When Elise Lafontaine spies her father’s missing saddlebag with its all-important papers slung over the shoulder of a man boarding a riverboat, she follows him, hoping to retrieve the contents. Her plans come to an abrupt halt when she is declined entry to the boat, since she is an unaccompanied female.

From his perch on the top deck, handsome riverboat gambler James Garnett witnesses her denied entry. When she shoots him a look of desperation, how can he resist those deep blue eyes and beautiful face? Of course, he comes to her rescue, pretending she is his fiancée—and she is allowed aboard.

Begrudgingly, Elise accepts James’s offer of help to win back the saddlebag and the papers by having him play poker on her behalf, certain the thieving Confederate brothers who stole the bag will lose everything to James. But can Elise be happy with only the saddlebag and its contents? Or has she already lost her heart to the dangerous gambler?

After a sultry kiss, Elise steals his money and the papers and jumps overboard. Then the games truly begin. Now, Elise stands at the biggest crossroads of her life—will she go her own way, fiercely independent and alone? Or will she wager everything on the man who holds her heart--GAMBLING ON FOREVER?

And an excerpt, for your reading pleasure:

“Delta Queen, here I come,” she whispered, hoping she wasn’t making the biggest mistake of her life. She could handle wide-open spaces, and campfires under the stars while rounding up wild horses, but on a big, beautiful large riverboat, a floating palace? This would definitely be a challenge for her, since she’d have to act as a refined lady. She touched her whip again and hoped she wouldn’t need to unfurl it. The nerves tightening in her stomach told her she had just entered uncharted territory and the hairs on her neck prickled again. Never a good sign.

She followed the two men up the gangplank, her fingers itching to yank her father’s saddlebag from the shoulder of the one man. She’d need to be patient and choose the best time to steal it back, and the moment of boarding would not be the best time. Better to wait until they were underway, floating down the Mississippi. Then, those two couldn’t get away. She’d nab it when they weren’t looking, just as they’d taken it from her father. Then, she’d jump overboard and be gone before morning. She took a deep breath and fisted her hands to prevent them from reaching for the bag.

The pair paid the steward for passage on the freight deck, which meant they were saving most of her father’s money for the gaming tables if they were willing to give up a bed in favor of sleeping on top of cotton and tobacco bales. She hoped she had enough money for an actual stateroom.

“Are you with the gentlemen?” The steward asked, raking his gaze over her before glancing at the men.

“Those two?” Elise pointed to the men still standing close by. “No, sir. I’m traveling alone and I’d like a stateroom, please, if the fare isn’t too much.”

The steward seemed confused. “Ma’am, I’m sorry. Our policy is to allow women aboard only if they are accompanied by a gentleman.”

“That’s preposterous!” Elise tried for a smile, hoping to charm the steward. “My money’s as good as any gentleman’s.”

“Your money is not the issue, ma’am. We don’t allow unaccompanied ladies on board. It’s company policy.” The steward clutched his papers to his chest, unaffected by her smile.

One clean-shaven, well-dressed man stood on the top deck, calmly smoking a cheroot and stroking the black string tie around his neck as he surveyed the crowd coming aboard. Elise pleaded with her eyes for the man to take action. She might be going from the frying pan into the fire but at least he’d taken a bath in the past year. She’d take her chances. She only hoped he would.

No Buy Link yet, but it should be available by the last week of February. 

Type A or Type B?

We've all heard about the different personality types, A and B. And we probably get asked which camp we fall into at least once in a while. So, I've taken the time to delve into this, especially this week. Here are my findings: 

According to Wikipedia, Type A individuals are outgoing, ambitious, rigidly organized, highly status-conscious, sensitive, impatient, anxious, proactive, and concerned with time management. People with Type A personalities are often high-achieving "workaholics." They push themselves with deadlines, and hate both delays and ambivalence.



Type B individuals are sometimes attracted to careers of creativity: writer, counselor, therapist, actor or actress. However, network and computer systems managers, professors, and judges are more likely to be Type B individuals as well. Their personal character may enjoy exploring ideas and concepts. They are often reflective, and think of the "outer and inner world. 

When asked the question, especially since retiring from a 'real' job, I always answered that I was a Type B personality. After all, I'm now a full-time writer, creative and reflective, so it seemed to fit. And this year, with no publishing commitments other than a manuscript that's been in edits since January, I was rolling blithely along, working on a story that I will finish before the end of the year. 

Then, this week, all hell broke loose. I accepted a ghostwriting job where I need to crank out 30,000 words in a month's time. I'm still trying to finish the story I'm working on before I lose the thread of it. I got an email from a publisher I'd contacted nearly a year ago asking if the manuscript I queried them about was still available. It is, and if it's accepted, it's the first of a trilogy and of course, books 2 and 3 have not been written. I'm still waiting to hear about another manuscript, a Regency. If that one is accepted by my publisher of choice, it's the first of 4 books, none of which have had more than a paragraph of my time. I should be panicking at this stage of the game, but instead I'm kind of jazzed by the looming deadlines and all the work exploding around me. Maybe I am a Type A after all. 

What about you? Type A or Type B? 

Turkey or Ham?

For most of my life, I've preferred Thanksgiving over Christmas.

My preference began when I was a kid, one of five. Food was always scarce, except on Thanksgiving. For one day, we could eat as much turkey,  stuffing, mashed potatoes and green bean casserole as we wanted. I thought I'd died and gone to heaven. Christmas was a far different affair. We didn't have much extra cash for a ton of gifts like my friends were given every year, and I always felt we were the house on the block that Santa forgot.

However, this year I have managed to write two Christmas themed novellas, which will be releasing as the season nears. One is a contemporary, set in Lobster Cove, ME, as part of Wild Rose's popular lineup of stories centered around this fictional town. The other one is a historical set in Regency England. They were both extremely fun to write, they both feature romantic love stories, and have made me believe I may have been wrong all these years.

Rather than focus on the food, or on the lack of gifts, I should have been focused on the significance of the day. Thanksgiving may be in celebration of the pilgrims surviving in the new world, but Christmas is steeped in religion. Engagement rings are a staple gift at Christmas. Who ever would give an engagement ring at Thanksgiving? Mistletoe is another iconic symbol of Christmas. Thanksgiving offers a wishbone from the turkey. Not quite the same.

I have written a love story centered around Thanksgiving, don't get me wrong. I think any day when two people find each other is special, regardless of the trappings. But when it comes to writing a novella, I'll take Christmas over Thanksgiving any day of the week. I'll take ham over turkey.

I hope you'll enjoy my novellas. If your taste runs to contemporary, Love's In The Cards is for you. If you happen to love historicals, A Regency Yuletide will tempt you. I don't think you can go wrong with either story. Here's a little something about each one.

Love's In The Cards

Christmas used to be Penny Beedle’s favorite holiday. But a messy breakup with a country star on Christmas Eve years earlier, and a botched wedding last Christmas Eve have tainted Penny’s outlook about the holiday. But she has to suck it up, since she and her sister now own a greeting card store, and this is their crazy selling season.

Del Madison has loved Penny since kindergarten. Now he’s been commissioned by a big greeting card company for a line of Christmas and Valentine’s cards, as long as he comes out from behind his alter ego and unveils himself to the public. He chooses Penny Beedle’s shop for the big reveal. If he plays his cards right, he just might be able to have Penny be part of his life.

If Del plays his cards right, he just might make Christmas a holiday Penny can enjoy once again.

A Regency Yuletide

After a disappointing season in London, Sophie Davenport returns home without a marriage proposal. No sooner does she settle back into her country life than she learns her uncle has arranged for her to marry the local Vicar’s son, a respectable and utterly forgettable man. He’s returning home immediately after the Christmas holiday and they will wed. She sets about making this last Christmas with just she and her mother memorable.

Jeremy Wyatt agrees to help his friend Thomas and his love, Emma, as they chase to Scotland to marry at Gretna Green before her father comes after them. What he’s really doing is avoiding heading to his parents’ home, where he’s set to be married out of obligation, not love. They get close to the border before their carriage gets hopelessly mired in the mud from the incessant rains. Jeremy sets off to find shelter for them, and knocks at the door of the first house he comes to.

Sophie forms a bond with Jeremy right away. However they’re both spoken for, so despite the sparks they ignite in each other, they have to maintain their separate paths.

But love and mistletoe have a way of upsetting even the most well-laid plans.