I'm giving away 5 Kindle copies of Diamond Duplicity! No purchase necessary. All you have to do is enter to win!
magical giveaway
a little witch in all of us
Publication may still be five months away, but today, August 30th, 2013, the cover for Suddenly Sorceress was introduced to the world. And I, for one, couldn't be happier. I LOVE this cover. I'm so excited to share it with you.
PMS can be a real witch!
Ivie McKie isn’t your run-of-the-mill kindergarten teacher. After an encounter with a horny goat, followed by a confrontation with her lying, cheating fiancé, Ivie is shocked when the big jerk suddenly transforms into a skunk—the black and white furry variety.
Enlisting the help of her shopaholic friend Chloe and sexy club magician Jackson Blake, Ivie is forced to play a literal game of cat and mouse as she races against the clock to change her ex back before she's arrested for his murder.
With every new spell comes a fresh wave of sexual desire, drawing Jack further into Ivie’s troubles—her panties, the car, the kitchen, and assorted seedy bathrooms along the way.
Ivie soon discovers what every witch worth her spell book knows: There’s nothing worse than a bad case of Post Magical Syndrome.
Suddenly Sorceress, coming February 14, 2014.
Cover by Streetlight Graphics
a dramatic reading
The BAFTA. The Academy Award. So few individuals have won either that I
feel obliged to point out that I have won both.
Am I proving a point? Or merely bragging?
Obviously I’m proving a point. And the point is this:
The greatest villain in Disney history. The greatest hero in Italian. A
dragon-mastering wizard. The only man to outwite John McClane. Some
guy in that book by Evelyn Waugh.
These are just a smattering of the
challenging, life-changing roles that I have played. But no role has been MORE challenging (or
life-changing) than that posed to me by the fine individuals at the Red Adept Novels
Publication House.
Yes, as an actor I am constantly
challenging myself to evolve. To
adapt. To improve. To master the craft to which I have attached
myself with a workhorse-like dedication.
That’s why I chose to take on the most
difficult role of my career: Katie James. A young, American, female banker who finds herself getting in over her
head in a way such that she may wish she had the magical powers of Profian or
the political acumen of Alexander VI.
Sadly, she is possessed of
neither. But today, through the power of
audio recording, she is possessed of my BAFTA (and Oscar) winning voice.
Please, enjoy my rendition of TO KATIE
WITH LOVE, if for nothing else, then for the estate of Evelyn Waugh.
Sincerely,
SIR Jeremy Irons
Dictated, but not read
Sussex County Seat, July the Twenty-Third,
Year of Our Lord Two-Thousand and Thirteen
Disclaimer: Today's blog and dramatic reading is courtesy of fellow Red Adept Publishing author (and frequent guest) Stephen Kozeniewski NOT actor Jeremy Irons. I figured you already knew that, but since I'm not a fan of getting sued, I thought I should be clear. The audio presentation is a skillful interpretation of what chapter one of To Katie With Love would sound like if actor Jeremy Irons actually DID read it. Which he didn't. But we like to pretend. We're writers.
Get your copy of To Katie With Love today at Amazon.com for Kindle or in paperback. Also available for Nook from BN.com as well as select retailers.
they like me, they really like me!
It may not be very grown up of me, but I can't help myself. Every time I get another amazing review, I jump up and down, squealing at the top of my lungs like a teenage girl at a Justin Bieber concert. This is perfectly acceptable behavior in my living room but, as I've been reminded, not so much at the grocery store.
I'd love to run free though the town screaming at the top of my lungs how amazing I think I am, but this might be counterproductive. Too much self-promotion tends to work in reverse. I have to remind myself to step back and let nature take it's course.
But seriously, I'm just delighted my little book is getting such wonderful attention. I mean, we (writers) all hope to write a book people love. But in the back of our minds is the fear no one will like it.
Tonight, I'm dedicating my blog to the reviewers...for making my day brighter.
Just a few of the amazing reviews my book received during the blog tour...
"Erica Lucke Dean came up with some great characters." Big Al’s Books and Pals
"I fell in love with Katie and Cooper instantly." Pezz Rambles
"This delightful contemporary romance has it all, witty dialogue, great characters and an engaging story." Cocktails and Books
"... Dean has a whole new take on writing romance - and it involves a chick-flick style of writing." Cabin Goddess
Until the next time...I'll be adding a Reviews tab!
Katie bonus
I gave you a bonus Cooper scene last week. So here's a bonus Katie scene for this week...enjoy!
This takes place after Katie throws back her last shot in Chapter 2...
(May contain minor spoilers if you haven't read past chapter 2...you've been warned!)
The song had ended, and as I struggled to put the microphone back on the stand, I realized the crowd was giving me a standing ovation. Of course, almost everyone was already standing by the bar. No matter…I felt popular.
With a quick peek at my table, I tucked my hair behind my ears. Cooper was still there, wedged between June and Vicky. He had his head thrown back, laughing at something Vicky said, no doubt. My eyebrows pulled together in a tight furrow and my bottom lip pushed out on its own. She was flirting with him…the bitch.
With a sudden determination, fueled by what could only be jealousy, I pushed my way through the thick crowd of people surrounding the bar, desperate to reach Cooper before Vicky dragged him into the night to have her wicked way with him. I teetered on my heels as the champagne and those four—or was it five shots I drank—finally caught up to me. The closer I got, the more my head spun, and I couldn’t feel the tip of my nose anymore.
Focus, Katie!
I gave my head a little shake, which in hindsight was probably not the best idea. It did the opposite of my intention, making the room spin faster as I attempted to weave through the sea of people without much luck.
A crowd had formed around a pair of tattooed guys in black tees as they locked their elbows and joined hands to arm wrestle at their high top table. Someone brushed by me and touched my butt—more like grabbed it and squeezed with both hands—making me spin around with a squeal. When I turned back, I bumped into a large sweaty body planted between me and the only open path to my table.
“You were great!” he slurred, gulping a mouth full of margarita straight from the pitcher. “How about you come home with me tonight and sing into my microphone?”
Gross! “Um…I really need to get through so I can rejoin my friends.” I pointed to my friends across the room, using the pathetic girl face I’d mastered, strictly for emergencies.
This guy was apparently immune to it. “Can’t I be your friend?” He leaned in way too far and put a grubby hand on my back.
I decided then and there I didn’t need any new friends. What was so great about friends anyway? Six was plenty. I stepped backwards just a little too quickly and wobbled for a second before falling into the lap of a man sitting at the bar.
Did I say lap? Well, not really into his lap, per se. The guy was sitting on a bar stool so it was more like falling between his legs and against his crotch. I counted the seconds as I worked to extract myself from this excruciatingly awkward position. As hard as I tried, I couldn’t seem to right myself. Some romance heroine I would be. I couldn’t even manage to stay upright walking across a room.
The stranger seemed to enjoy every second I spent with the back of my head pressed against his chest and my hips caught between his muscled thighs.
“Um, could you help me?” I tried to laugh at my predicament, but I could feel something thick and hard rubbing against my backside and I was pretty sure it wasn’t a flashlight.
“I’m perfectly happy with the way things are.” He laughed, giving a little wiggle of his hips to punctuate the sentiment, shifting the air until a heavy waft of his cologne burned my nose.
A flash of fear sent chills up my spine. He had no intention of letting me go just yet. This was it. I knew it. I was about to be raped and murdered by a man who wore Old Spice.
Just then, a large hand slid across my shoulder hauling me upright.
“Fun’s over buddy,” Cooper growled. He gripped each of my arms, turning me to face him. “Are you ok, Kate?”
I nodded, too close to tears to say anything.
“Ok, come on. Let’s get back to the table.” His voice softened and his arm tucked around my waist as he steered me through the throng.
“You were so brave,” I finally choked out.
“Brave, huh?” He chuckled as we slid into the booth.
“Did you see Cooper rescue me from the drunk at the bar?” I blurted.
“Honey, I think you’re the drunken one.” Silvia flashed her smug grin again and winked at Cooper.
“I am not drunk.” I rolled my eyes and tried to laugh it off. I may not have a lot of experience with alcohol, but I figured it was safe to say I was pretty drunk. I couldn’t feel my nose or my fingertips anymore. I leaned my head back against the seat and closed my eyes. Everything went a little fuzzy before fading completely to black.
the world tour
How exactly does one embark on a worldwide book tour when flying is not an option? Oh, wait. You say you're wondering why flying isn't an option? Well, I'm sorry to have to be the one to tell you this (you obviously haven't been paying attention over the past few years) but I'm terrified to fly. Yep. I've said it. After years and years of flying without care, one day I woke up terrified. I haven't flown since 1998, and I'm not starting now. So how is it I'm starting my world tour tomorrow? It's all thanks to this wonderful little invention called, the internet.
Yes, my blog tour is starting tomorrow and runs through May 21st. There are thirty some odd stops along the way, and I'll be sharing those with you each day in hopes you'll stop by and visit. I'm doing interviews, guest posts, and getting reviewed by some of the best book review blogs around.
First stop tomorrow...an interview on KBoards. I'm excited. I can't wait to see how I answered his lightning fast questioning. Did I come off as being smart? Sassy? Confused? Well, we'll find out together tomorrow. I'm also being reviewed and interviewed on Jess's Book Blog tomorrow, and interviewed by Raine Thomas (click the pretty yellow text to link to those blogs...but not til May 1st.) I hope I fair well in the process. They're all wonderful writer/bloggers, so I'm sure they'll take good care of me.
I hope I can keep track of where I'm supposed to be and when. It's a long tour and a lot of stops along the way. And I have a book release party appropriately hosted by my favorite karaoke bar (for those of you who have started the book, you'll note that chapter one takes place in a karaoke bar.) I'll be sure to put up pictures tomorrow! And in case you haven't gotten your copy yet...well, here's a few links. Amazon.com for Kindle and paperback orders. BN.com for Nook and paperback orders. And Kobo if you prefer that.
Until the next time...I'll be basking in the glow until it's back to work tomorrow!
from a napkin to a book
Wow...it's really here. Today is the official release day for my book, To Katie With Love. I would have never guessed the scrawled out notes on a bar napkin would have actually brought me here. I'm not sure I have words to convey how exciting this is. And for those who don't write books for a living, it takes a really long time and a whole lot of effort to go from a bunch of words on a page to a published book.
You know that old saying, it takes a village? I know it wasn't used in this context, but it really does take a village to create a book. You start with a writer and an idea, and you go through edits and beta readers and more edits and proofreading and cover concepts and even more stuff I don't even know about because I was lucky enough to have a publisher do all that for me. A village.
Yet, I'm here to tell you, all the work is totally worth it when you see your words come to life in the form of a book. It's almost like having a baby...though slightly less painful, and way quieter, and never mind, it's nothing like having a baby. But it's still super exciting.
So today I official go from being an unpublished author to a published author. Now the fun part can begin as I set out to promote my book on a month long blog tour and as of yet unbooked live signings. And here I thought pigs were scary. Scary, exciting, life altering, amazing. I wrote a book and now people can go buy it. Who would have guessed?
Until the next time...I'll be promoting!
Find To Katie With Love at these online retailers:
a day in the life of a romance writer
I roll out of bed at the crack of noon when sunlight filters through the slats in the thick black out blinds, waking me from the best dream ever. Seriously, this dream would make an awesome book and I promise myself I’ll write it down later…once I’m fully awake.
But first, I go in search of a bowl of cereal, cursing my family for having eaten all but the last few crunch berries in the box of Cap’n Crunch, forcing me to either crack into the unopened box of Raisin Bran or dig through the cabinets for something more appetizing. That’s when I spy a glint of foil across the room and remember the chocolate chip cookies I baked at three am and stashed behind the stack of mixing bowls. I almost forgot about those. I stumble over the discarded milk carton the dog pulled out of the trash, and nearly trip over the stools poking out from under the island before I reach my destination.
I peel back the foil to discover half the cookies are missing (I’ll deal with that later) but there are still plenty enough to satisfy my need for sustenance, and I down at least three before making my way back toward the fridge for a glass of ice cold chocolate milk.
Once I’ve had my fill of sweets, I contemplate taking a shower before lunch. Ultimately, I decide against it because of the unnecessary effort it would take when I’m only going to be writing in my pajamas all day anyway. So I head back to my office—me and my laptop spread across my bed—and tackle the first project on my growing list of things to do. Guest posts for my upcoming blog tour. But since I’m a professional procrastinator, I decide to surf the net for a while first, and end up engrossed in Twilight fan fiction for half the morning…I mean, afternoon.
After running out of fresh things to read, I actually get to work (mostly plotting out things I haven't written yet, while I try to figure out who does what with whom) then I bang out a running commentary that ends up being useless to the blog I'm trying to write for someone else, but surprisingly perfect for the blog I write for myself. Then I revisit the idea of a shower, and as much as I’d fought against it, I'm glad I succumb to temptation. There is nothing quite as nice as a hot shower on a cold day…especially when it’s Tuesday. Tuesdays mean karaoke. Too bad my ninety-year-old house has equally antique wiring and I can’t use a blow dryer without taking out more than half the circuits.
Somehow, I manage to style my hair and throw on make-up to make my way out the door to the local pub, where, not only does everyone know my name, but they’re relatively happy to see me. This is a big deal when you manage to piss off your significant other on a daily basis.
The evening out is a much needed break after a long day of making stuff up while wearing pajamas. Because that’s essentially my job…sitting around in my pajamas all day while I channel the voices in my head until I come up with something that makes at least a little bit of sense. But to the outsider (or the non-believer) I’m just wasting time, slacking off, lazy…basically one step away from a pot-smoking college student with a White Castle craving.
Nah…I’m none of those things. I’m a writer.
romance unscripted
Today is my anniversary. Eight years of wedding bliss.
Pardon me while I cough.
No really...it's been a great eight years. Ten if we count the time before the I dos. What can I say, I am a sucker for a good romance. I almost always lean in that direction when I’m writing. I tend to favor romance when I pick a book to read. And there's nothing better than a good romantic comedy on a girls night out.
So why does romance always look a lot easier than it actually is? Why don’t writers tell you about morning breath and bodily functions?
I write my characters with bladders, and toothbrushes, and lots and lots of showers and baths. I think it adds to the comedy of it all, because at its core romance isn’t always all that romantic. Sometimes it’s a Three Stooges skit, and often times the third character is an inanimate object. I know that’s the case in my life.
Despite my draw toward grand romance, my husband would not normally be considered an overly romantic person. He was never big on the flowers and candy, definitely not prone to burst into spontaneous poetry, and absolutely never planned secret getaway weekends for just the two of us.
Until three years ago, on our anniversary.
After five years of marriage, my husband went through a miraculous transformation and became a romantic. I didn’t ask questions, I just went with it.
We arrived in the night, on the scariest drive I've ever taken, up the side of a mountain. On a dirt road. With a drop off on the passenger side of the car that had me muttering obscenities the entire way.
Once we arrived, and my husband plied me with enough wine to calm my panic attack, we spent a quiet evening by the fire. The stone fireplace went all the way to the vaulted ceiling, and a large deer head was hung above the mantle. The ceiling and walls were tongue and groove pine, as were the wide plank floors. The cabin was decorated just enough to make it homey without looking too decorated. And the best decoration of all was the magnificent view out the windows.
So, I wrapped myself up in a blanket and stepped out onto the back deck to check out the scenery. I expected to find a hot tub on the back deck. There is something romantic about an outdoor hot tub in the dead of winter, especially while on a romantic anniversary getaway. The brochure promised a hot tub, and I was somewhat disappointed that I had yet to find one. In the absence of a hot tub, I decided to look for bears. I was determined to find at least one bear on this trip.
I did not see a single bear, but I did discover the elusive hot tub hiding on a lower porch under the deck. I looked around for a way to reach the porch. It wouldn’t be easy to get down there. We would have to go around the cabin and down the back stairs to reach the bottom. As perilous as that sounded, I was ready to take a soak.
I've decided everyone should be brave enough for naked hot tubbing at least once in their lives, and I was ready for my turn. I had a hard time convincing Mike. He thinks of things in much more rational terms than I do. He was concerned because reaching the lower porch in the best of conditions would be tricky, and it was not the best of conditions outside. It was snowing pretty steadily, we didn’t have robes, and there were cabins nearby that could potentially see. But, I wasn't discouraged. I had a brilliant plan.
My plan was to undress inside and wrap up in the extra comforters to get to the tub. We could toss the comforters over the railing to get in. The water would be piping hot, and I figured the layer of steam directly above the water would cushion us as we got in and out of the tub. We could grab the comforters and wrap up again when we were finished to make the dash back to the cabin. It was perfect!
I slipped my bare feet into my slippers and Mike put on his sneakers, and we set out for the our romantic rendezvous with a bottle of wine and two plastic wine glasses , courtesy of my brilliant husband.
The plan went off without a hitch. We slid the cover off before shedding our blankets and swiftly slipped into the water, draping the comforters, just within reach, over the railing.
The water wasn't as hot as I'd hoped, or maybe it was just that the air was much colder than I expected. However, I refused to be discouraged from my chance at romance, so I switched on the jets as I held my cup out for Mike to pour the wine.
My perfect room temperature red wine quickly got too cold to drink. I tried holding the cup partially under the water to warm it, but it wasn’t working. It was just too cold. In fact, anything not completely submerged in the water was getting too cold. We slid down until only our faces were exposed to the whipping wind, and attempted to cuddle against the warmth of the underwater lights.
I glanced at the thermometer to discover the water temperature was going down as the wind picked up. My perfect plan was losing steam faster than the hot tub. We wordlessly agreed to abandon the hot tub and take the romance inside where it was warm...a good plan in theory.
Getting into the water was infinitely easier than getting out. I lifted my shoulders carefully out of the water to help drag the cover partially across the top. The less time spent standing in the frigid air— soaking wet—the better. As I discovered, it is nearly impossible to pull the cover over while sitting inside. The cover slipped back over the side and out of our reach. Mike refused to worry about the hot tub. It would surely survive for a while without the cover. We took several deep preparatory breaths to steel ourselves from the bitter cold. Mike got out first and proceeded to drag me by the arm until I was able to pull my leg over the side to get out. It was cold. Ice-freaking-cold! We grabbed our comforters at the same time and I let out a shriek. They had frozen into the shape of the railing. How the hell two dry comforters managed to freeze into the shape of the railing is beyond me. I shoved my feet into my frozen slippers, pulled the ice-pack that was my blanket around my wet, naked body and made a run for it.
Yes. I ran.
I ran as carefully as I could possibly run up the back stairs, around the cabin and back through the front door. I only slipped twice, but managed to stay on my feet the whole time. We left the wine, the plastic cups and the hot tub cover on the floor of the porch for the morning.
Luckily for us, the fire was already blazing in the hearth and we let our comforters fall to warm our bodies as close as possible to the flames.
Romance finally won out that night, even if completely without a plan. I think sometimes that’s the best way for romance. Plans are overrated.
I never did see any bears. As it turns out the only thing “bare” outside of the cabin that weekend was us!
Until the next time…I’ll be avoiding plans of any kind—at least until I come up with something new!