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Posted by Clarissa Yip on Dec 18, 2011 in
Christmas,
Holidays,
Writing Here’s a teaser to Cole and Maddy for all those who have read Snowy Encounters and who are curious as to if Maddy’s crazy ideas ever work.
Last Snowy Encounter
By
Clarissa Yip
“Just one time, I swear.”
Cole eyed his wife warily. As much as he loved her, the crazy ideas she came up with drove him nuts. If she wasn’t the hottest decorator in town and didn’t belong to him, he would have quickly turned tail and ran. But then, that wouldn’t be very manly of him. He glanced down the steep slope. They stood at the top of Death’s Peak. It was their spot—the one spot she’d run to when she wasn’t happy, but also the one place she’d wreaked havoc on him. He’d ended up in an ambulance, after the many times she’d accidentally tripped him down the hill.
He sighed. “Can’t we just do this at home?”
Maddy settled her hands on her hips and glared at him. “No.”
Cole pulled her into his arms and hid his irritation. “You remember what happened last time we tried this.”
She gazed at the night sky. “There are no trees above our heads this time. No snow will fall on us. Put up the tent and let’s do it.”
It as in fulfilling her fantasy to make love outdoors.
“Let’s just go back to the house where it’s warm and I’ll build us a fire.”
She shook her head and pouted. “This is my Christmas wish. I want to do it here.”
Damn. The lip. She knew he couldn’t resist her pout. Shoving a hand through his hair, he looked around. “What if someone shows up?”
Maddy snorted. “Everyone is home celebrating Christmas. Besides, we did our family duties already.” Her eyebrow lifted. “What? Are you chicken?”
His eyes narrowed. “I’m just worried about you.”
“Don’t be. I’m pregnant, not disabled.” She patted her slightly rounded belly.
He bit his inner cheek. The bigger her stomach grew, the stronger those hormones struck. Trudging over to their belongings, he started to assemble the tent. Last time they’d tried this, snow had fallen from the branches and covered their naked bodies. Lovemaking suspended.
Who would have thought his spunky wife had such fantasies?
Once the tent was set up, he made sure the portable heater was on and lantern lit, before holding the flap open and turning to Maddy. “Done. Get in.”
Maddy hopped up off the tree stump and grinned. “About time!” She took two steps and slid backward. Cole quickly closed the distance, but not before she’d already fallen. At least the ground was fluffy with a fresh layer of snow. She glared at him, and he tried to keep from laughing. But mirth struck him as he clutched his stomach. Falling was natural to Maddy.
“The baby!” Maddy gripped her belly. Cole stopped and instantly went to her side.
“Are you okay?” He squatted down. She gave a soft moan. Fear and guilt instantly grasped him around the throat. “Is it the baby? Maddy, answer me.”
She peeped at him with a grimace. He cursed. He should have watched her more carefully, and here he was laughing at her. What type of man did that make him? He swallowed hard when she kept her head bowed. Four months into her pregnancy, he shouldn’t have allowed her to talk him into bringing her out here. Just as he started to slip his arms under her knees and around her shoulders, Maddy mushed snow into his face.
He froze then sputtered as he jumped up, spitting the cold out of his mouth. Settling his hands on his hips, he towered over her, glaring. She sat gripping her sides, giggling. Damn wench. “That wasn’t funny.”
“That’s what you get for laughing!” She held out a hand and he pulled her up.
“You could have been hurt. The baby could have been hurt.”
“Then you shouldn’t laugh at me every time I fall.” Maddy huffed.
“Then stop falling.”
“It’s your fault. You know how clumsy I seem to get around you. It probably wouldn’t matter even if we’re dating or ninety years old.”
Cole grinned. She did have a tendency to be klutzy around him. Only him. And it’d better stay that way for a very long time. Brushing the snow off her back, his hand lingered over her butt. He loved touching her ass. He wasn’t much of a butt man, but Maddy’s cute bottom always drew his attention, especially when she wore her black stiletto boots and sashayed around him like….
He swung her up into his arms and strode to the tent. “Let’s do it.”
Maddy yanked the hair at his nape, and he grunted. “Now, you’re being vulgar.”
“You wanted to make love out here.”
“I said in the snow.”
“You’re crazy, woman. It’s the tent or nothing.”
She pouted.
“Stop that. You know I’d give you anything, but no way am I going to risk getting you sick.”
With a sigh, she brushed her lips against his jaw as he allowed her to slide down the length of him. “I know.”
He cupped her bottom, pulling her close against his groin. No matter how many times they’d made love, he’d never get enough of her. Keeping an arm around her waist, he lifted the flap of the tent. “Get in and show me your goods.”
Maddy giggled. She bent and started to maneuver into their temporary sleeping quarters. He gave her butt two pats before she disappeared inside. Sticking his head in, he frowned. The space was smaller than he anticipated. He should have grabbed the bigger tent from the lodge, but in their haste, he’d taken whatever was available. All thoughts fled as Maddie smiled seductively and slowly released the buttons on her coat.
Inch by inch, silky pale skin was revealed along with her black satin camisole. She shrugged off her jacket and slipped out of her jeans then sat demurely in her top and panties. She crooked one finger at him, and he was lost. Quickly shedding his oversized coat, he crawled into the tight space. His head hit the roof, but he managed to get his coat off.
Maddy helped him with his shirt. His elbow struck a metal bar. He ignored it and kissed her the moment he got his shirt off. Her fingers attacked his belt and unbuttoned his jeans as he searched for the hem of her camisole. Softness met his palms, and he slid his hand under, lovingly patting her stomach before closing over her breasts.
“Get these off. I want to see you.” Maddy tugged insistently at his jeans. He sat and she climbed over him, settling her legs on either side of his thighs as he tried to push his boxers and jeans off. She dug her fingers in his hair and continued to kiss him. He loved the taste of her—fruity and sweet. Her strawberry scent wrapped around him, drugging him as always.
Once he kicked his clothes away, he settled his hands on her hips and worked the satin top over her skin. They parted for a split second when he’d pulled her camisole off and threw it over his shoulder.
Maddy tugged at his hair, rocking against him as he kneaded her breasts, weighing them, loving them. They’d grown larger with pregnancy. The areolas were darker in color. He loved the little changes in her body as she blossomed with their child. Five more months and they would finally welcome their baby into the world. He was going to love Five Oaks as much as his parents did.
Bending down to sample her sweetness, Cole caressed her stomach before closing his mouth over her nipple. Maddy moaned and drew him closer, rocking against his groin. She tugged at his hair as he laved circles around the erect bud.
“I love when you do that,” she murmured.
He bit her gently, then kissed the spot and moved to her other breast. His hands slid over her hips to cup her butt, holding her flushed against him. The friction added to his desire. His head swam with each motion, each sensation. Frustrated with the satin barrier between them, he gave a quick tug, and the flimsy panties fell apart.
Maddy grinned and then gripped the sides of his face, kissing him. His tongue twirled with hers, her sweetness easily seducing his senses. Sliding from under her, he maneuvered her onto her back. He bumped his head on the top metal bar of the tent. Frowning and aggravated with their tight quarters, he settled himself between her legs. His eyes raked over her beauty and his annoyance slipped away. Her glow wrapped around him like a warm blanket, and he jerked her against him.
Nibbling along her jawline, he moved lower, trailing his lips across the smooth expanse of her chest. Maddy whimpered as his fingers found her. Wet and hot. She lifted herself on her elbows and peered at him with hooded eyes. The desire in her gaze flickered heat throughout his body. Control slipped the moment her tongue ran across her bottom lip.
Tugging her legs to hug his waist, he rubbed against her cleft. Her arms circled his shoulders, knees pressing into his sides. He leaned in to kiss her, but Maddy pushed at him. He frowned.
“Fire!” Maddy wriggled under him.
He held her tighter and tried to kiss her, but she gave him a shove. He didn’t budge. No way was she backing out now. It was her idea to make love out here. “Baby, you are hot. That won’t ever change.”
“No, fire!” She pointed to the corner.
Cole whipped around. Damn. Smoke rose from Maddy’s camisole. It had landed on top of the heater. His head hitting the roof of the tent, he grabbed his jacket and started to beat the blasted thing. Cursing aloud, he glanced at his wife to see her laughing, clutching her own coat to her chest.
Once the heater was off and the destroyed satin tossed aside, he settled back in defeat, bumping his head against the metal bar holding up the tent. Maddy slid her arms into her coat and grappled around for her jeans.
“You’re right. We should go home.”
He sighed. Lovemaking suspended. Again. He just couldn’t win.
Maddy leaned over and placed a kiss on his lips. “I know. My crazy idea. But I’ll make it up to you.”
His eyebrow lifted.
“When we get home,” she quickly added.
Stifling the urge to growl, he reached for his clothes.
“Next time, we’ll grab the larger tent, so you fit, big guy.”
He smiled. She said “next time.”
Hope wasn’t lost.
Snowy Encounters Available at Decadent Publishing!
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Tags: 12 Days of Christmas, A Passionate Christmas, Christmas, Clarissa Yip, Decadent Publishing, Writing
Posted by Nina on Dec 15, 2011 in
Christmas,
Holidays,
Writing 
Have you ever woken up the morning after the office Christmas party with a horrible feeling of impending doom….?
In Vodka Veritas
“You’re late!”
Angela jumped, spilling coffee and half-eaten Christmas cookie over the desk. “Thanks,” she muttered.
“Guilty conscience?” Sally asked. She picked up the cookie and took a huge bite. “You know, I really thought that you would make an effort to be on time today.”
“I did. I always do.” It just never seemed to do any good; she was always late. So why should today be any different? Her mind came up blank. “I give up. What’s so special about today?”
“Didn’t you have something important to do this morning?”
“Did I?” A vague sense of unease stirred in the deep, dark recesses of her brain.
Sally regarded her with amazement, then smiled. “You don’t remember do you?”
“Remember what?”
Sally shook her head in mock disbelief. “Can you actually remember anything about Friday night?”
“Of course I can.” The lie rolled uneasily off her tongue. “It was the office Christmas party. I remember everything.”
“Everything?” The skepticism was clear in Sally’s voice.
“Absolutely.”
Sally stared at her for a moment. “You mean, you remember photocopying your bottom?”
“Of course.” Angela shrugged. “Didn’t everyone?”
“Good point.” Sally thought for a moment. “So, you remember telling Martin that he needs a lobotomy?”
Angela almost let out a sigh of relief. So far, not so bad. “Yes. It’s actually something I’ve been meaning to tell him for ages. Perhaps he’ll give it serious consideration. So,” she urged, “carry on then.”
“With what?”
“You know, your list of things that I remember.”
“Ha-ha. I knew it—you don’t remember. I knew you couldn’t, otherwise, you’d be scurrying around in a panic, or sitting under your desk with a bag over your head.” She stood up. “I’m going to let you stew for a while.”
Angela watched her go with a scowl on her face, then switched on her computer and pressed the new mail button.
Dear Everyone,
I just want to apologize to all those I may have offended at the office Christmas party. It was NOT, (as most of you no doubt believe) the effect of too much vodka, but rather the effect of an absolutely gargantuan brain tumor (the approximate size and shape of a football), which spontaneously exploded on Saturday morning. I am now fully recovered, but flowers and chocolates are still welcome (especially chocolates).
Angela
PS Martin – I still think you need a lobotomy.
But who to send it to? Better err on the side of caution, she decided, and selected the whole company. She was just about to press the send button when somebody spoke from just behind her shoulder.
“Angela.”
It was Jack, her boss. Six foot three of tall, dark, and handsome, all wrapped up in a designer suit. At least she could be pretty sure she hadn’t embarrassed herself there. Well, no more than usual anyway. She invariably turned into a tongue-tied moron, incapable of action or speech in his presence. Normally not a cause for celebration, but in this instance a definite improvement over the alternatives.
“Huh?” she mumbled.
He stared down at her for a moment, looked about to say something then obviously changed his mind. “I need last week’s numbers. Now.”
“I sent that email,” she said to Sally some time later, “and absolutely no-one, but no-one has brought me any chocolate. I need chocolate. And another thing, no-one will look me in the eye.”
“Kevin will.”
Angela glanced across the room, to where Kevin sat. He was in fact staring straight at her. When he caught her eye, he smiled and waggled is fingers.
“Not Kevin,” she said. “No way.”
“You want to have his babies.”
“I would never have babies with Kevin. Apart from his more obvious problems, he’s got red hair.”
“So have you.”
“Duh! That’s exactly my point. Red hair is carried on the recessive gene. Two red-haired parents and your children have absolutely no chance. Ginger babies. Even drunk, I would never do that to anyone.”
“Well, if it’s any consolation, I don’t think you seriously wanted Kevin’s babies. I think he was just a rehearsal. Like the others.”
The others? And a rehearsal for what? She glanced at Jack’s door, her feeling of unease intensifying. “Beam me up, Scottie,” she muttered under her breath. That gave her an idea, the perfect excuse. She clicked the new mail button again and started typing.
Dear Fellow Human Beings,
I am not going to apologize for my behavior on Friday night, BECAUSE IT WASN’T ME. At some point prior to the party, I was abducted by aliens and my place taken by an alien double. I was released on Saturday, unharmed and this is now me. So I just want to reiterate – I DIDN’T DO IT (whatever “it” was.)
Angela.
PS Kevin—while there may be a totally deluded alien out there who actually wants your babies—I don’t!
But what was really bothering her, was that there had to be something worse. Much worse, if Sally’s level of amusement was anything to go by.
“Sally, why are you doing this? You have to tell me if there’s something I need to prepare for.”
“Well, you did tell our managing director that his ex-wife looks like a horse and he’s better off without her.”
“Valuable advice.”
“And…
Angela stopped listening as her gaze snagged on something across the office. Jack was standing by the elevators, talking with the finance manager. She rested her head on her hand and stared at him.
“Yuk,” Sally said. “You’re drooling again. All over your keyboard. You know, I think it’s probably time for another of those reality checks.”
“But he’s so perfect.” Angela sighed.
“Angela,” Sally said sternly.
“Oh, okay then. Reasons why Jack will never marry Angela: One—Jack only goes out with tall, elegant blondes who ooze sophistication. Angela has red hair, freckles and is only five-foot-one. In addition she has no breasts, no hips, and she dresses entirely from the children’s department in Tesco.”
“Good so far,” Sally said, “but more needed.”
Angela thought for a moment. “Two—Jack is witty, intelligent and intellectual. In his spare time, he goes to the opera. Angela, on the other hand, is scatty, loves practical jokes, and in her spare time she reads Marvel comics and Mills and Boons.” She sighed. “Okay, that’s enough, reality restored.”
“Okay, I admit it,” Angela said. “I do not remember.” It was now afternoon, and she hadn’t even been able to eat lunch. No chocolate and no lunch; at this rate she could starve to death. “So, have you tortured me enough? Are you going to tell me?”
“Well,” Sally said, “you remember photocopying your bottom?”
Angela frowned. “We’ve already done that one.”
“It was more a case of what you did with the photocopies.”
“What did I do?”
“I’m not going to make it that easy, but what happens at three o’clock?”
Angela thought for a moment. “Oh God. The post. I’ve posted pictures of my bottom.” She jumped to her feet. “What time is it?”
“Five to three, you should just make it if you run.”
She ran, almost bowling Jack over as he emerged from his office. She arrived at the post room with seconds to spare and pushed open the door, panting.
“Bill, help me.”
“Don’t worry, your friend came round this morning. They’re over there.” He nodded to a pile of A4 envelopes on the desk. Angela went over and stared down at them. The top one was clearly addressed, in her handwriting, to the company CEO. She reached down with trembling fingers and opened it. Inside was a sheet of paper.
Across the top was written:
Happy Christmas and X my…
Above a huge copy of a somewhat flattened bottom. It would have been unrecognizable except she had signed, “Love Angela” at the bottom. She rifled through the pile.
“My mother? Why would I send a picture of my bottom to my mother?” At least three had “Jack” scrawled across them. She sighed and picked up the pile.
“Thanks, Bill, I’m eternally grateful.”
“Well, just don’t tell me you want my babies because I honestly don’t think you’re going to have the time.”
“No,” she said, “probably not.”
She pushed open the door with an enormous sigh of relief. Another day successfully negotiated. Another disaster averted. Was she a superhero or what? All the evidence was shredded, she’d actually apologized to Martin and she’d even explained the whole recessive gene theory to Kevin, though she wasn’t entirely convinced he’d followed her reasoning.
A man was leaning against the wall outside the office. For a moment, she thought it was Kevin and almost ducked back inside. But it was Jack, and it looked like he was waiting for her. Her heart sped up and her mouth went dry. Oh God, had she missed one of those pictures? She came to a halt in front of him. Her lips wouldn’t seem to work, and she had to force herself to speak.
“It’s not my bottom,” she muttered. “It’s an alien’s bottom.” He frowned. Not the picture then. “Okay, it’s probably best you forget I said that.”
“Actually,” Jack said, “I was wondering whether you’d like to come for a drink.”
“A drink?”
“And a chat.”
“A chat?”
“Yes, I thought we should talk about these babies…”
Nina Croft grew up in the north of England. After training as an accountant she spent four years working as a volunteer in Zambia which left her with a love of the sun and a dislike of 9-5 work. After a number of years wandering the world, she has now settled down to a life of writing and picking almonds on a remote farm in the mountains of southern Spain.
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Tags: 12 Days of Christmas Stories on PC
Posted by Moira on Dec 14, 2011 in
Christmas,
Holidays,
Writing Frost
Of all the assignments I could’ve been given, this was the worst. It felt like a demotion. Had I pissed off the jolly old man? Don’t know how I would have done it, but this felt like a shit detail. I leaned against the garland-wrapped railing and stared down into the mock winter wonderland, complete with fake Santa, in the pavilion below. It all seemed out of place in the sweltering heat of…wherever the hell I’d been dropped. Beam me up Scotty, I’d like to get the elf outta here. 
I scanned the crowd, searching for my mark. It didn’t surprise me that he stood near the mechanical reindeer and Santa’s workshop. Even on the run, we still longed for familiarity. To not be the freak in the midst of humans. I didn’t move in right away, I wanted to admire the view I’d denied myself for the past year. Gorgeous, snow-white hair trailed down his back, metallic streaks of silver visible throughout, like tinsel had been woven through it. There was no mistaking Jack Frost—the man I’d avoided since the eggnog and unwrapping incident. So much beautifully lean and muscled naked elf, my cheeks heated at the memory.
Shoving the image from my mind was difficult, but I had a job to do. I weaved my way through the hordes of holiday shoppers and garish elf wood cutouts until Santa’s throne was in sight. No Jack.
“Crap!” How could I lose him so fast?
“Why are you here, Holly?”
I spun around and faced the man who’d had a starring role in my dreams for the last three hundred and sixty five days.
“You know why I’m here, Jack.” I couldn’t meet his gaze. Didn’t want to risk being swept away in those icy blue eyes that swirled and darkened when angry or lost in the throes of passion. I’d seen both.
“No, I don’t.” His voice held a note of hope when he continued. “Tell me.”
“On the job.” Something kept me from coming out and admitting he was my target.
“I won’t keep you then.” Disappointment and bitterness lined his words and took me by surprise.
“What is going on with you?”
“Nothing. Must be a real step down from your usual detail. Tell Santa I’m fine, but I’m not ready to come back.” He shoved his hands in the pockets of his crisp grey slacks and started past me.
I couldn’t let him go. Allowing him to walk away would mean I failed. No matter what the history was between us, I couldn’t let that happen. Without thinking, I grabbed his arm, leaned in close enough to smell the scent of cool pine-laced breezes wafting off his skin, and whispered, “I don’t want you to go.”
He turned his head slightly, his lips brushing against my cheek as he spoke. “Why?”
The slight contact wreaked havoc on my nerves and I began to tremble. He was so close. All I’d have to do is reach out and take him. But I couldn’t.
“I…wrapping.” My voice sounded far off and distant. Like I was having an out-of-body experience. Around Jack, I always wanted to be present in body, at the very least. I started to hyperventilate.
“Oh.” A small, swirling pattern of snowflakes started to take form in the depths of his eyes. “Walk with me.”
He placed his hand at the small of my back, briefly brushing my handcuffs as he did so. “You were going to handcuff me?”
“Last resort only.”
“Really?” He pulled on my over shirt to reveal my gun. “And this is purely an accessory?”
“Want me to shoot you?”
“Not if it’s filled with one of Doc’s tranqs. Wouldn’t want you to take advantage of me.” He chuckled and we started walking through the crowd.
“It’s no spiked eggnog.”
“Still equally as powerful.” With a wink, he maneuvered me into a corner. I didn’t like feeling boxed in, my back against a wall. It did give me a good view of the area though, allowing me to plan my escape route if I should need one.
With his hands splayed on the wall on either side of me, Jack rested his forehead against mine. “Why did you leave that morning?”
Of all the questions he could have asked me in that moment, that one caught me off guard. “It was a drunken night of wild abandon—”
“And wrapping paper,” he interjected.
“Yes and while it was fun, it was one night. It didn’t mean anything.” Or so I’d been trying desperately to convince myself.
“Didn’t stick around long enough to find out, did you?” He leaned in and pressed his lips gently to mine. It was only a sample of what I’d experienced that night, but oh, how good and familiar he tasted. Kissing Jack was like drinking a cup of peppermint cocoa in front of a warm fire. When he started to pull away, I wasn’t ready to lose the intimate contact and I locked my arms around his neck, deepening the kiss.
When we finally separated, we both were a little breathless and I leaned back against the wall to try and steady myself.
Jack quirked an eyebrow. “Meant nothing, huh?”
“Well, perhaps it meant a little.” Handcuffs—my handcuffs—snapped around my wrists. “What on earth are you doing?”
“You want to know a secret?”
“Can you tell me on the way home? I have to deliver Jack Frost to Santa’s doorstep on time. You wouldn’t want me to fail would you? Allow me to have an incomplete mission?” I batted my eyelashes at him.
“No. I tell you now or I don’t tell you at all.”
Stubborn man. I could ring his neck. “Tell me your deepest, darkest secrets, Jack.”
“In all the centuries I’ve been around, I’ve never asked Santa for anything. That is— until now.”
Butterflies beat wildly in my stomach and my throat was so dry I could barely even swallow. “What did you ask for?”
“First tell me what you think of your assignment.”
“You’re joking, right?”
He shook his head. “Not at all.”
“No offense, but being dropped in lands unknown and dealing with heat because you refuse to do your job is hardly my idea of a choice gig. And why are you laughing?” Suddenly, I started feeling like this was all a set up. “You didn’t really leave Santa a note saying you were going on strike?”
“I did leave him a note, but nowhere did I mention abandoning my duties for the season.”
I looked around the shopping area. Taking in more than the winterscape that had been set up for Santa photos. Palm trees lined the outside of the walkways; in the distance the sounds of the surf were faint but detectable. Add to that, Jack’s lack of surprise to see me there and—“This was a set up!”
“Let’s just say I must have been VERY good this year.” He leaned in and kissed me briefly. “Because I got exactly what was on my Christmas list.”
Moira spends her daytime hours as a typical 9-5 slave chasing the almighty dollar, and raising twin zombie sons. During her evening hours, she can often be found steeped in homework, watching an episode of the Walking Dead, or penning her latest novel. She is an author of urban fantasy with a romance kicker, a woman with a penchant for men in kilts, lover of shoes, and connoisseur of Guinness! In other words...Moira is a complete mess.
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Tags: 12 Days of Christmas Stories on PC, Christmas
Posted by Bethanne Strasser on Apr 30, 2011 in
Books,
Life,
Writing With all the talk about weddings, I've been thrust into ROMANCE mode. It's a good thing for romance writers… I remember the day when a good novel ended with a wedding or wedding to come.
Maybe things have changed but I think the bottom line is the same… LOVE. We're all still looking for love. [and yes, looking for love in all the wrong places IS running through my head right now]
When I see pictures of the royal wedding, my sentimental side gets a tear in her eye. I can't help it. They look so happy and in love. And I know, that if they love even half as much as my husband and I, they have a fighting chance.
It makes me want to write a fairytale story….
hmmm.
Mother of FIVE smarty-pants and married to her Love for twelve years, Bethanne spends her time writing stories that always--without a doubt--end happy.
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Posted by Jennifer on Mar 9, 2011 in
Books,
ebooks,
Writing 
Hey, all!
I'm over at Ju Dimello's blog today (sick and all) talking about…well, myself– as well as misconceptions I had when I first started writing.
Commenters will be entered to win either an ebook copy or print copy of my romantic comedy,The Role of a Lifetime.
Contest runs now through the weekend. So plenty of time to stop by if you have the chance. 
I'm off to take Advil and have some more peppermint tea. 
Jennifer fancies herself a more prolific writer than she really is and has an unnatural tendency to use words like "fancies" and "prolific" when describing herself. Please feel free to check out her ebook, The Role of a Lifetime from Samhain Publishing and her recent Avalon romance Georgie on His Mind--where she promises she didn't use either of those words in her stories.
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Posted by Jennifer on Feb 28, 2011 in
Books,
Writing Hi, all!
I’m very excited to announce that Harlequin author Melissa McClone is on my personal blog today talking about how she got started writing for Harlequin Romance.
Melissa is on a blog tour promoting her sweet romance new release Expecting Royal Twins. She will be giving away a $20 Amazon.com GC to one randomly drawn commenter from her tour.
So stop by and leave a comment on my BLOG and be entered in her contest.
Good luck!
Jennifer fancies herself a more prolific writer than she really is and has an unnatural tendency to use words like "fancies" and "prolific" when describing herself. Please feel free to check out her ebook, The Role of a Lifetime from Samhain Publishing and her recent Avalon romance Georgie on His Mind--where she promises she didn't use either of those words in her stories.
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Posted by Jennifer on Feb 9, 2011 in
Challenges,
Goals,
Writing 
HI, all! Jennifer here!
Well, I'm happy to report that I'm doing great on my Book in 3 Month Challenge! Granted I had a wee bit of a head start, but so far I have a good chunk of my manuscript written–35% to be exact.
You might not know it, but I'm remaining calm and collected about this. Thus, the "logical and calm" word count meter below.
Checking in with my critique partners and posting our daily word total has really kept me from slacking. (Somewhat, anyway) I find when I'm writing, it helps to take small breaks every 30 or 40 minutes, where I quickly check Twitter or email, throw a load of laundry on, or make myself a cup of tea.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As far as P90x goes, I can't believe this is week FIVE already. I am definitely noticing a difference in what I can do now from when I first started (which wasn't much) LOL
The Yoga X was my most dreaded routine. Not because it took up an HOUR AND A HALF of my time but because I found it the most impossible, ridiculous exercise routine on the workout plan. And now I can say that after all this time…
I finally did a session on Saturday and actually enjoyed it. I know. Weirdo-rama. But I bought a yoga block on Amazon and that really helped a lot with some of the moves.
Just like in my writing, where I'm checking in and comparing goals, I'm checking in with my hubby on the P90x plan as well. It really helps to have someone doing it with you because whenever I'm tempted to just skip a day, I have him giving me a look and guilting me into doing it. (The hubby is much more goal oriented than I am) So I'm grateful to have someone else suffering with me. LOL
Accountability. That's the key word that's really really me reach my goals this year. And so far, so good.
Do you need that extra "push" like I do? How do you reach your goals?
Jennifer fancies herself a more prolific writer than she really is and has an unnatural tendency to use words like "fancies" and "prolific" when describing herself. Please feel free to check out her ebook, The Role of a Lifetime from Samhain Publishing and her recent Avalon romance Georgie on His Mind--where she promises she didn't use either of those words in her stories.
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Tags: goals, Jennifer Shirk, work in progress, Writing
