Leave a comment for a chance to win a copy of Cry Mercy.

Information for where to send self addressed stamped envelopes are at: http://toniandrews.com/CryMercyTour.htm

Other links to find Toni:

Cry Mercy Trailer: http://tinyurl.com/75vl4s

Toni’s web site: http://toniandrews.com/

Toni’s Blog: http://tinyurl.com/ToniBlog

Toni’s TV show: http://toniandrews.com/SoManyBooks.htm

Book Rx, Toni’s “Book Doctor” service: http://toniandrews.com/BookRx.htm

Links to purchase Cry Mercy:

Mira Books (discounted while they last!) http://tinyurl.com/oe8tkd

Amazon Link:  http://tinyurl.com/CryMercy

Amazon UK Link: http://tinyurl.com/prh6ej

Barnes and Noble: http://tinyurl.com/pxrx9f

Indigo Books (Canada): http://tinyurl.com/qcycaf

Rendezvous Romance (Australia) http://tinyurl.com/r4g56z

Toni Andrews will be guest blogging on June 12 about her upcoming release, Cry Mercy.

Folk who blog for a living tell me I should dish a bit about myself. This is a problem because I was raised in Iowa, heart of the Midwest, where unassuming humility is considered an art form.

Unfortunately, I never quite mastered it.

Maybe that’s why my DH and I have bopped around the country more than most. We’ve lived in—hang on!—several towns in Iowa, Denver (twice!), Minneapolis, Winston-Salem, NC, Sheridan, Wyoming, Park City, Utah (during the Winter Olympics!), Seattle, West Plains, MO, and finally Boston! (No, we’re not in some witness protection program and keep blowing our cover. My DH works in the travel technology field.)

I loved living in every single place. (Well, Minneapolis in January was no picnic, but the people made up for it!) One thing I’ve learned as we moved around is that different areas of the country have very different ideas about how things should be done.

And they don’t much care how things are done elsewhere.

Case in point. We were new to this place. My DH and I were kibitzing with a group of people, trying to get acquainted. (When you move as often as I do, you have to make friends fast!) One woman mentioned that her neighbor’s son just landed a job driving a school bus. The boy was 16.

“16!” I said, aghast. “They let 16-year-olds drive school buses here?” The words poured out before I could stop them. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Silence descended for a full minute. Then one of the men spoke up.

“I drove a school bus when I was 16.”

I learned something that day (besides the fact that I’d be driving my kids to school myself!)

Not everyone is entitled to my opinion.

And besides, I may not always be right (though to this day I think I am about 16 year olds driving a school bus!). But the realization has freed me to consider other points of view—a very useful skill when one wants to be able to climb into a variety of characters’ heads.

Therefore, I won’t tell you what I think about Boston’s traffic, system of rotaries, or the unique hand gestures and honks I receive every time I get behind the wheel.

You don’t want to know . . .

Author blurb: Award-winning author Emily Bryan writes light-hearted, sexy historical romance for Leisure Books. She and her DH currently make their home in beautiful New England where, you’ll be happy to know, she usually takes mass transit!

Reviewers on VEXING THE VISCOUNT . . .

“Bryan’s delicious and witty romance has engaging characters whose fast-paced adventures will truly delight.” ~RT BookReviews

“Not your ordinary historical romance. It’s fresh, well written and chock full of the unexpected, the spectacular, and the intriguing.” ~WeWriteRomance.com

“A very welcome discovery. VEXING THE VISCOUNT is a humorous and emotional ride set in the often racy Georgian era.” ~ Romance Reviews Today

“Simply too delicious to miss!”~NightOwl Romance Reviewer Top Pick!

“The total package…witty humor, lusty sex, intriguing plot, great pacing, and marvelous characters.” ~ Penelope’sRomance Reviews

Connect with Emily Bryan:
http://www.emilybryan.com
http://www.emilybryan.blogspot.com

Buy VEXING THE VISCOUNT: http://search.barnesandnoble.com/Vexing-the-Viscount/Emily-Bryan/e/9780843961348/?itm=1

Contest: Leave a comment or question to be entered in the daily drawing for a shiny new VEXING THE VISCOUNT!

Blurb

Grieving after the death of his partner, Zach finds comfort amidst bookshelves and coffee beans in the arms of his new employee, but a secret from Keith’s
past will threaten their new-found happiness and test the strength of their tender, new love.

Copyright 2008 by Kimberly Gardner, all rights reserved.

Excerpt
Keith opened the refrigerator, grabbed the wedge of Locatelli Romano from the top shelf and set it on the counter. What else? While the cool air caressed his heated skin he reviewed the ingredients for the dinner he was cooking for Zach.

The salmon in its white paper sat next to the colander of spring mix, rinsed and ready to go. The little basket of raspberries for the vinaigrette peeked out from behind the tall, dessert glasses filled with chocolate mousse. Maybe they would eat the mousse in bed. That would be fun.

He set garlic, olive oil and a bunch of fresh basil on the counter beside the cheese. He would make the pesto then the dressing for the salad before he went and changed his shirt. He needed shoes too but he had plenty of time before Zach arrived.

It was a long time since he’d last cooked dinner for a man and he’d missed it. Everything from planning the menu to selecting the ingredients to the actual cooking and eating of the food, he loved it all. Food was so sensual, the sharing of a meal so intimate, it truly was one of the great pleasures of life, a pleasure he would share with Zach tonight. But not the only pleasure they would share if he had his way, and he thought he just might.

Humming quietly, Keith took the grater down from the cabinet and set it next to the bowl. He unwrapped the cheese and had just begun to work when the doorbell rang.

He glanced at the clock. Too early for Zach and he didn’t know that many other people in New Hope, none well enough for them to just drop in.

He set the cheese in the bowl and the grater down next to it. Going to the window, he Twitched the curtain aside and peered out.

Zach stood on the front step, one hand in the pocket of his beat-up leather jacket, a wine bottle tucked under his arm. His head was turned and he was looking back toward the street, his profile cast in shadows by the fading light. He looked incredible. Dark and sexy and just a little dangerous.

And I look like shit, Keith thought with a grimace. Nothing he could do about that now.

He ran his fingers through his messy hair, not that it would help, then opened the door, a ready smile curving his lips.

“Hey, Zach, you’re early.”

Zach turned, a frown creased his brow and his eyes snapped with blue fire. “You always just fling the door open without asking who it is? I could have been anybody.”

Zach was scolding him for not being careful. It should have pissed him off. But far from that, the lecture made Keith feel warm all over. God, he was so gone on this guy it was pathetic.

“I looked out the window.”

Then, because Zach looked so serious, “Besides, you aren’t just anyone, you’re you.”

“That’s not the point. I could have been-”

“Whoa.” Keith held up a hand. “What are you, the door police?”

Some unreadable expression flickered in Zach’s eyes. “No, forget it.”

“What?”

“Nothing. Just forget it. Please?”

That was weird. Keith shrugged it off. It didn’t matter. Zach was here.

“So, are you just going to stand outside all night, or are you coming in?” He opened the door wider.

Zach stepped inside and, pausing in the tiny foyer, held out the wine. “This is for you. It’s … Wine.”

Keith laughed. “I can see that.” He took the bottle and turned it so the light fell on the label. “Chardonnay, perfect.”

Zach said nothing.

Keith looked up from his examination of the label and found Zach’s gaze on him. His mouth went dry and his pulse sped up. The small foyer and Zach’s size combined to bring the two of them thrillingly close.

They stared at each other in silence. Keith’s gaze fixed on Zach’s mouth, those tempting lips he had yet to sample.

What the hell.

Keith set the wine bottle down on the hall-table. Laying his palms on Zach’s broad shoulders, he rose on tiptoe and pressed his mouth to Zach’s.

For the space of several heartbeats, Zach stood frozen, not touching, not kissing back. Keith wasn’t even sure he breathed.

Shit.

A voice in Keith’s head whispered, bad idea, dude. His heart beat wildly but he refused to chicken out. He wanted this kiss, had wanted it for a long time and if Zach wouldn’t give it then, damn it, he would just take it.

He ran the tip of his tongue along the closed seam of Zach’s lips, asking for entrance.

Zach made a sound in his throat, half sigh and half growl. All at once his arms wrapped around Keith’s waist and Keith was dragged against him. Zach’s lips parted and his tongue met Keith’s. Met, conquered then invaded his mouth as Zach took control of the kiss.

Held tight against Zach’s body, Keith found himself on the receiving end of a soul-searing, heart-stopping lip-lock that was everything he’d dreamed it would be and more because it was real, a no-holds-barred full contact kiss. His mouth was plundered as hands rucked up his t-shirt and found skin. A wave of pure lust swept through him, at once hardening his cock and weakening his knees. He’d been swept up in hurricane Zach and all he could do was hang on.

So much for a slow seduction.

As suddenly as it began the kiss broke. Zach tore his mouth from Keith’s and practically shoved him away.

“Christ.” Zach scrubbed the back of one hand over his mouth.

Keith crushed the hurt that wanted to come. Zach’s hand trembled and that hurt turned to triumph. He’d shaken Zach, and done it with just a kiss.

Damn.

Keith resisted touching his fingers to his own bruised and puffy lips. He settled for smiling up at Zach. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Yeah, I get that.” Zach’s expression softened. One of those rare smiles curved his lips. It reached all the way to his eyes making them sparkle and bringing those sexy crinkles at the corners.

Keith’s heart did a little back-flip and his stomach fluttered with excitement. Oh yeah, tonight they would be sharing much more than a meal.

“Want to come in?” He grabbed the bottle of chardonnay from the hall-table and held it up. “I’ve got wine.”

The November full moon will arrive November 13, 2008, when the astrological calendar is in Taurus. The full Snow Moon is also called Frost Moon or Fog Moon, due to the month’s predominant weather pattern, and Beaver Moon in American backwoods tradition. I like the sound of Snow Moon best, because its name is the most romantic.

The Joshua Tree is the symbol of the Mojave Desert; the only American desert where these trees will grow. The full moon is a symbol of love. The Celts called November the time of beginnings and endings, and I think Marybeth and Jake would agree. Their love began in the Mojave Desert, where DESERT FEVER is set; the place Marybeth found Jake after his motorcycle became disabled.

What about the hero and heroine’s ending? In romance, there can be only one.

Happily-Ever-After, of course.

http://www.ellorascave.com/productpage.asp?ISBN=9781419919060

Adele Dubois will be joining us on November 13th to promote her new book, Desert Fever

Now, don’t get me wrong. This is my favorite time of year. From Thanksgiving until Christmas, there is so much to do I get nervous just thinking about it. J But it’s a good nervous. I tend to not get much writing done, but it’s a wonderful time for my son, who’s five. He loves all the cooking and baking, not to mention the toys on Christmas. I think my holiday spirit is contagious.

I’m not big on decorating, though my son loves the tree if it has lots of lights. He could care less about anything else. Naturally, I cram as many lights as my little four-foot tree will hold, and rig up more extension cords than I should, but hey! Ya gots ta have da lights at Christmas.

My mother gave my son a “cooking pumpkin” this year instead of a “carving pumpkin.” It was fun gutting and pealing the thing. *rolling eyes* But it tasted out of this world when I made the pie! I’ve frozen what was left to make for Thanksgiving. Should be fun.

I’ve already got the turkey and will defrost it the week of Thanksgiving. I could have gotten a ham, but after doing that the year before last, we decided it was worth the extra money for the turkey. Cause, it’s just not Thanksgiving without a turkey. Ok, at least that’s what my husband said. Personally, I was good and the little one didn’t care. He’s like a human garbage disposal at this point. He eats anything not nailed down to the table.

So, while all that stuff is cooking, while I have my husband and son untangling miles of Christmas lights. I’ll be plotting. Thinking. Devising all kinds of sexy things I’m going to do to Santa while everyone sleeps.

Hum. Wonder if I should put it in a book?

*evil grin*

Teeka
www.marteekakarland.com

We were talking about age earlier on my Yahoo group. Okay, I was talking about it and making everyone else listen *g* A couple of the group members are age fifty and up, and one mentioned that she is usually the oldest member of groups who are fans of gay romance. That really made me stop and think for a minute. I see the same lopsided bell curve she does in the online gay romance communities — A few barely-adults, a swell of people in their twenties and thirties, a downslope of folks in their forties, and a trickle of those fifty and up. Why is that? Is it just that people upwards of fifty are so busy with their lives these days that they don’t care to spend time online? Are they unaware of the groups out there? I’d be more inclined to believe those explanations than to believe that people over forty-nine aren’t interested in gay romance, because I’ve not found that to be the case at all. I know for a fact that all sorts of people of all ages read and enjoy romance of all sorts, and I think that’s a beautiful thing.

So do I act my age? I don’t know. What does that mean? If there’s some sort of universally accepted code of conduct for women in their forties, I never got the memo. IMHO, our thoughts, feelings, ideas and beliefs, are unique to ourselves no matter how young or old we are. And in that case, acting your age simply means being who you are. I think I can do that

But I’m not here to talk about my vender experience.

What I do want to talk about is books, specifically whether you’re reading, and consequently buying, more or fewer books than you once did.

On our table at the expo we had an attractive display of books, all gay fiction, all discounted for sale at the event, and they got quite a bit of attention. People would come up to the table, pick up one or another book, admire the cover, a few even engaged us in lively and interesting conversation about reading.

But do you know how many books we sold?

None.

That’s right, not one book was sold at that event.

In talking with other venders I learned that it wasn’t just us. The author in the booth next to ours sold one book, a volume on meditation that he had included as a last-minute throw-in with his cash of fiction titles and never in a million years expected to sell.

When I asked him and others what they thought the problem was, the answer was always the same. It’s the economy.

“People just aren’t buying books,” one vender told me. “They’re saving their pennies for stuff like food.”

She followed this statement with a laugh, but I don’t think either of us thought it was particularly funny.

The fact that you’re reading this blog leads me to believe that you are, if not a writer, then certainly a reader, a person who loves books. As both a writer and lifelong reader myself, I can’t imagine a time when I wouldn’t want — or need — to read. Even in my poverty-stricken student days, when books bought and read for pleasure frequently took a backseat to textbooks, I was a fixture at the local library. That is to say that all my life, books have ranked up there with food and shelter as necessities. So it’s hard, well near impossible, for me to believe that the economy is really to blame for people’s unwillingness to shell out ten dollars for a book.

But what if not the economy, then what?

As readers and writers, do you find that the economy has impacted your reading habits? Are you buying fewer books? Reading less? Or are you getting your reading fix in other ways by borrowing books from friends or from the library?

In short, is reading truly fundamental? For me it certainly is. What about you?