Aphrodisia Authors :: Blog

So, one of my upcoming characters is going to be a travel journalist. Someone who travels the world and writes interesting and entertaining stories about where he or she has been. Sometimes this is about something the Average Joe or Jane could try and sometimes it’s something no one would ever want to try if they had a choice in the matter.

To get ready to tackle this hero, I interviewed a couple of travel writers: Tim Cahill and Rolf Potts (both pictured above). I met Rolf at one of my scholarly conferences in 2009, and ended up helping him with a story he was writing, and then I hit him up when I needed help writing this character. He suggested I talk to Tim, who happened to be doing an event in my town just then, and poof! A second interview with a second travel writer. I’m having a great time comparing and contrasting their answers to my questions. Even when there are differences, there are similarities, so I’m getting a great feel for the kind of personality that would be a life-long vagabond.

This is going to a be a reeeeeeally interesting character. I’m loving it! Note that this character is actually a shape-shifting panther and Latino, with dark hair, eyes, and skin, so he doesn’t look a thing like either of my travel real-life travel writers, but that’s probably for the best since I want an even mix of both Rolf and Tim in the hero. (If you haven’t guessed yet, this hero is going to be in ON THE PROWL II)

Also, I’ve totally gotten hooked on reading travel writing stories. I’ve blown through Rolf and Tim’s books (and loved them!), moved on to Bill Bryson and Pico Iyer, and…well…I see a few exotic settings coming up in my future books. This is just too much fun!

When I first saw the Nicholas cover, I fell in love. It got the Lords of Satyr series off to a great start, and the book won numerous regional RWA awards, including Judge A Book by its Cover. I’ve loved every cover since (a total of 5.) The design is consistent–each book has an LOS logo, is named for the hero, and best of all–each book has a hunky headless cover model. My June release, Dane, The Lords of Satyr, begins a new trilogy within the Lords of Satyr series. I’ve moved the stories up 50 years and moved from Tuscany to Rome. I’m currently writing the next book, Bastian. I haven’t seen the US cover for that one yet, and am looking forward to it. (I suggested a royal purple.)

But over in Germany, the Satyr lords are just getting started. And, look at these covers. Can I just say, wow? Yummy, aren’t they? I don’t know the story behind why the Nicholas cover (the green, black, & white one) is different from the Raine (purple tattoo) and the Lyon (green tattoo.) Nicholas released some time ago, and shortly afterward, similar Raine and Lyon covers were designed and posted on Amazon. Then they disappeared and these two tattooed guys showed up.

So which do you prefer? The US covers? The non-tattooed German covers? The tatted-out German ones? Do you dislike all of them? Love them all equally? And why? I’m really curious to know which you prefer and why, and plan to pass the info on to my publisher. Answer in a comment below to be entered to win an autographed copy of Dane, The Lords of Satyr. Winner to be chosen July 4th.

I don’t know about you, but I can’t wait to see what Dane looks like in a German edition!

Totally excited! Why? Many reasons. First, because Need Me is out on Tuesday! In fact I’ve got a FEW releases out in the next month!

Let’s go over other reasons why I’m excited. I recently learned that my book Take Me finaled in the Greater Detroit Booksellers’ Best competition! And I have a book video for Need Me! I’m also just happy to have some sunshine and summer weather round these parts. Because Pacific Northwest kind of got jacked on any kind of spring.

Anyway, I’m just a bit ramble happy in this post, and not all that exciting (sorry!) But I’m a busy bee working on revising a book and keeping the kid entertained now that school’s out. So tell ya what. How about I give away a book? You leave a comment and I’ll draw a winner on Tuesday to win signed a copy of Need Me (want to leave the contest up a few days since people tend to disappear on the weekend).

Happy upcoming 4th of July (oh another reason I’m excited!)

When I woke up this morning, it was with To Do lists and priorities streaming through my mind, as they do most every morning. And just like every morning, I tried to shove them all aside long enough to be thankful for another day and look forward to the coming hours with anticipation and gratitude. Now ‘try’ is the key word in that sentence. Some days I’m successful…others, not so much. But I will continue to try because those days I approach with anticipation and gratitude always go much better than all the others. Go figure, right?

But as I stood brushing my teeth this morning that bone deep weariness not only of body, but of mind threatened to send me right back to bed. A sure sign that I’d been pushing myself too hard…again. It seems to be a never ending cycle, no matter how much I promise myself that I’ll try to take it easier, won’t push until I get sick this time…I won’t, I won’t! But always seem to.

Don’t get me wrong, I really love my life and I’m not complaining. What I’m doing is taking a look at that deeply ingrained need for me to be Superwoman. I’m not exactly sure where it came from…okay, scratch that. I know exactly where it came from. I grew up in a pretty abusive household and from the time I was old enough to understand that things in my house weren’t normal, or how they were supposed to be, I decided to do everything I could to get out of that situation as soon as humanly possible. For me that entailed getting good grades, diving head first into music—something I’d always had a natural aptitude for, getting a full scholarship to college and then working hard to make myself self-sufficient. And from that time forward, I worked my butt off, juggling and overly full schedule, achieving great things and getting sick routinely about once a year when my body had had enough.

Now fast forward a few years (okay, it’s several, but hey—I get to hold on to some of my delusions, right?) and I don’t get sick as often, I don’t kill myself as much and I am much better at saying ‘no’, delegating and choosing to work on things for the right reasons. Not perfect, but better. I’ve dealt with many of the issues from my past and can see them for what they are. But I still struggle with that behavior. And looking around me, I’m not the only one. Most of the women I know do the same exact thing. So what’s the deal?

I know as women in this society we all wear several different hats. Mine alone include author, business woman, barista, wife, mother, sister, daughter, friend, mentor, teacher, boss, counselor, promoter, cheerleader (no, not in the literal sense), and so many more that I’d use the entire day adding to this list. I spend each week juggling three jobs as well as being a wife, mother and all that other stuff. Oh yeah, and then there’s sleep, right? On one hand I think it’s terrific that as women we’ve come this far and in how society views us and how we view ourselves. But on the other hand, I think we’re stuck in that mindset that we’re out to prove something not only to the world, but to ourselves.

We’ve all seen the bumper stickers about how a woman needs to do something twice as well to even be viewed as equal to a man. I don’t quite buy that. I’ve worked in Corporate America before and was happy to say I didn’t see different treatment among the sexes at that company, but I think somehow that kind of thinking got stuck inside all of us and we are stuck on overachiever mode. I know my first reaction to stress of any type is to go out and overachieve to make me feel like I’ve got some kind of control over the situation—when we all know control is a big fat allusion anyway. But triggers and their reactions die hard.

That’s not to say there aren’t plenty of men out there who aren’t work-a-holics, but as women, most of us aren’t just work-a-holics, we are every role-a-holics. Men might only be overachievers or overworkers at their job because that’s where they get their kudos. But us, we overdo in every single area and feel guilty if we drop one of the sixty balls we’re juggling.

I know logically that I shouldn’t feel guilty about taking down time or about telling people I need help or can’t take on more things, but that flash of guilt, that drive to do all and do all well doesn’t really listen to logic.

So, even though I know I need to post this blog, finish 70 pages of edits to send off to my editor, start Book 3 in my Sisters of Darkness Series, do laundry and figure out something for dinner today, among other things…I’m strongly thinking I need to have some other priorities for the day and worry about the rest tomorrow. Hmmm…I think I’ll have to make a commitment to myself to have the following priorities today: Post this blog, take a nap, a hot bath with a good book later, get out of the house and do something fun. And then I’ll bet some of that other stuff won’t seem quite so daunting.

So for all the women out there—take care of yourself, love yourself and spare some time for yourself so you have something left of yourself to share with everything and everyone else! So what are you going to do for yourself today?

On a purely promotional note (might as well be productive while I’m here – right?) I do have an amazing new series starting with Berkley called The Sisters of Darkness Series. The first book, Seducing the Succubus, comes out October 5th. It’s already available for pre-order and just for fun, here’s the blurb & excerpt. But after reading it – go do something for yourself and leave the guilt at home!

Cassie
www.cassieryan.com

Blurb:
First in a sexy new series featuring four succubus sisters fighting demons and desires.

Jezebeth is living out the centuries as any succubus must-seducing men to survive and corrupting souls to make her quota with her queen, Lilith. But, when she’s attacked by a bounty hunter demon, it’s a handsome human who saves her.

Noah Halston is a horror writer who owes his life to Lilith. Now he must pay up by eluding the fearsome beasts of hell while escorting a very attractive and tempting succubus safely to Lilith’s lair-or else he will forfeit his soul to an eternity of torture.

Trouble is, if he spends too much time with the all too tempting Jezebeth, he may just lose his heart-or, even worse, his life.

Excerpt:

When Jez could finally draw a breath, the stench of fresh sewage crossed with rotting flesh filled her lungs and stung her eyes. She stumbled backward, trying to put distance between her and the demon, but by the intensity of the stink she knew it was already too late.

The sweeping laser lights showed the crowd of humans still streamed toward the exits. The bluesy music continued to play like a macabre accompaniment to the human screams, sounds of breaking wood and screeching metal.

Jez dodged around overturned tables and chairs, trying to lose herself in the crowd of stampeding humans.

As she neared the exit door, her survival instincts screamed and her gut clenched, surging adrenaline through her body as she whirled to look behind her.

A flicker of movement was all the warning she had before red-hot pain sliced through her shoulder and left arm and she found herself flying backward. Her back smacked against something hard, and her breath whooshed out for the second time in a few minutes.

She gasped against the pain, even as her brain belatedly told her she’d been slammed against the wall. A few long seconds later, she glanced up into the glowing red eyes of the bounty demon.

Fear and frustration warred inside her belly as she struggled against the poison-tipped demon’s claws that were sunk inside her arm and shoulder pinning her back against the wall. Her movements were sluggish, which told her the poison had already begun to affect her.

“Jezebeth, follower of Lilith. Finally, we meet.” The demon’s hot, rotten breath huffed against her face with each cultured word. It towered over her, the laser lights flashing off its thousands of jagged sharklike teeth. Mottled black skin covered every inch of the demon and maggots and worms crawled along its flesh in a constant sea of putrid motion.

A pestilence demon.

Jez tried to ignore the shiver of revulsion as some of the maggots slid off the demon’s hands and crawled onto the bare skin of her shoulder.

She shoved aside her fear, glared up into the demon’s glowing red eyes and raised her chin. “You’d better hope Lilith never finds you. She’ll rip you into tiny little shreds to send back to your master.”

The demon laughed. “The size of the reward that Semiazas has on you will go a long way toward protecting me from the anger of the queen of the whores, little one. Besides, you’ll be dead long before that.” He opened his mouth revealing ten rows of razor sharp teeth, and Jez tensed as she waited for the deathblow.

A sizzling sound drowned out the music, and the stench of burning flesh filled her lungs just before the demon’s jaws snapped closed like a deadly animal trap just an inch from her nose. The demon let out a high-pitched squeal and wrenched his claws out of Jez’s flesh.

White-hot pain sliced through her, and she crumpled to the floor as she was freed from the demon’s grip.

“Run!” shouted a very deep voice.

Not about to argue and waste her chance to escape, Jez scrambled toward the door on all fours, trying to ignore the sudden rush of warmth down her arm as blood gushed out of her wound.

Another loud squeal from the demon made her glance back as she pushed to her feet.

A human male nearly as tall as the demon stood holding a Super Soaker toy gun Rambo style in front of him. There was no trace of fear in his gaze as he pumped the gun and then shot a stream of liquid toward the demon.

A sound like a thousand skillets of frying bacon filled the air along with another keening sound from the demon. The demon convulsed as plumes of black acrid smoke rose toward the ceiling in lazy curls.

The man turned his head toward Jez as if he sensed her scrutiny. Their gazes locked and Jez jumped like a guilty child caught eavesdropping. “I said run, damn it!”

First a disclaimer. Falcon’s Captive won’t be out until late July but I figured no one would mind looking at a hunk–okay so he’s a purple hunk. You got a problem with that?

I’ve been writing erotica almost exclusively for several years, throwing my novels, novellas, and short stories at all publishers that’ll take them. Kensington Aphrodisia has been a great home, especially come royalty time.

But I’m feeling restless these days. The whole wanting to stretch my writing muscles thing. For pleasure reading I turn almost exclusively to romantic suspense/thriller. Nothing like that page turning, pulse popping experience. Okay sometimes the violence goes beyond my comfort zone but that’s my issue.

Yep, I’d like to try my hand at suspense, specifically what I call erotic suspense. I just finished one such and sent it onto one of my epublishers. Now to see what she thinks. IMO its as much suspense as erotica with none of the bondage found in most of my erotica.

Therein lies my quandry. Are readers going to come along with me on my new adventure?

So here’s my question: if a writer you have always gotten one kind of read from takes off in a different direction, are you likely to give the new thing a try or do you feel abandoned?

Vonna
www.VonnaHarper.com

Today I finally got around to browsing the May issue of Cosmopolitan, which I just happened to have on hand because my first Wild Ride to Love book, Sex Drive, was their Red-Hot Read.

And I read an interesting factoid. Well, not a factoid because it was only the result of one study and, having studied psych and anthropology, I know how flawed “scientific” studies can be. All the same, it led to some interesting musing . . .

The study suggested that men with higher IQs are more likely to be monogamous. Okay, stop and think about that. Is your guy a smart guy? Then chances are, he’ll stick with you.

Well, of course he will, because you’re fabulous, right?

All right, that’s my quickie explanation, but wait, let’s hear what the study said. Their conclusion was based, sort of, on evolution. Did I mention I studied anthropology? Evolutionary theory makes sense to me. Most of the time.

In our prehistory, the basic male drive was to mate and procreate, so his DNA would go forth and prosper. (Hmm, did I just mix a little Star Trek in there? But I think you catch my drift.) If a man was monogamous, he’d knock up one woman, she’d spent 9 months pregnant, then it’d be a while before he could get her pregnant again. He just wasn’t putting a ton of babies out there in the world, so for a man, promiscuity made evolutionary sense.

OK, fine, but wouldn’t that make you think the bright guys are the ones who screw around? No, not according to the new theory. The bright guys today are the ones who realize all this evolutionary stuff is no longer relevant because having sex with a bunch of women no longer equates with any reliability to having a bunch of babies. So, really, there’s no point.

Well, except maybe having a bunch of fun… Though apparently the author of the study didn’t consider that concept.

Not that I’m saying, by any means, that sex with a lot of people beats quality sex with one person who you’re really committed to. After all, that’s pretty much the essence of romance.

Now, I’m probably being completely unfair to the author of the study. I haven’t read his report, only a teeny synopsis in Cosmo. But that snippet did get me musing (and gave me a blog topic, which is always a good thing!).

So, to muse on . . . If there’s any truth to the notion that guys with high IQs are more likely to be monogamous, couldn’t there be lots of other possible reasons?

Such as, they have the brains to wait until they’ve found the right woman, and then they have the brains to treat her right and stick with her rather than let some other man get her.

Or, smart guys choose smart women, and they realize that if they screwed around their mates would be clever enough to find out – and there would be major consequences.

Or, guys with high IQs grow up and realize that they’ll be happier and more fulfilled building a life with one partner rather than randomly screwing their brains out and never growing up.

Well, those are just a few of my theories. I bet if we all sat down and drank a few cosmos, we’d come up with a bunch more. So, hoist your cyber cosmo and tell me what you think. Do smart guys tend to be monogamous? What’s your theory?

Writer Dreams. I think all authors have the good ones, the fantasies of obtaining those material tokens of success that come from working tirelessly to better our lives: The major bestseller that brings us that first cool million. The interview with Larry King. The beautiful, old and decadently huge mansion. An invitation to appear on Dancing With The Stars. Booking Elton John to play at a birthday party.  The new car. Enough cash to afford a visit to the dentist’s office that involves having something actually fixed as opposed to just getting an antibiotic. Enough cash to square the next mortgage payment and to pay the electricity bill. Money for food.

Then there’s those other dreams that come while we sleep. The real dreams and nightmares. There are the sweet and sometimes erotic ones that leave us humming happily all the next day. And inevitably, the ones that  haunt our nocturnal wanderings and jolt us -cold and sweating ice bullets- out of a good night’s rest. I’m not sure if writers share the same real dreams, but I suspect we share similar underlying hopes and fears. I’ve also found that the themes and images of my own dreams tend to play out time and again.

Listed below are my Top 10 reoccurring writer dreams. The non-author may find them sexy or funny, sometimes downright psychologically telling and in part or totally, pitiful. But I’m willing bet there will be some authors reading this who will find something familiar in at least in a couple of them.

10. I go to prison for tax evasion

After years of laboring for recognition I finally achieve my heart’s desire as a writer. But suddenly the Feds show up to haul my butt to jail. Why? Because I trusted this financial genius to do my tax returns.

9. I am back in high school

and once again am a 90 lb. wall-flower mouse trying to get my locker open. I can’t remember the locker combination and know I’m going to be really late for class when suddenly I am surrounded by a group of cheerleaders pelting me with hundreds of Lee Press-On Nails. When I tell them I am a published author the scene turns into a trailer park. Here, I am the less-mousy woman I am today, and have changed into an expensive dress bought to celebrate the release of my latest book! But suddenly I am surrounded by a group of very portly women in shiny stretch pants, who pelt me with the teeth snapped off while opening bottles of beer with their mouths. Needless to say, I never make it out of the trailer park.

8. I’m cleaning the toilet

and know I have an editing deadline to meet. Despite my efforts, the bowl just gets dirtier and dirtier and then I hear the kids fighting, the cats knocking over stuff on the fire place mantle and visitors knocking at both the front and back door of the house. I end up knowing the day’s editing is a lost cause.

7.  My stalker

unfortunately, this nightmare is inspired by the real stalker I had a few years back. Not a pleasant situation and I hope the guy is rotting in prison somewhere and not bringing bad dreams to anyone else.

6. My dream agent

appears as the character of cunning, success-driven and utterly diabolical agent Bebe Glazer from television’s “Frasier”.  Bebe offers me the world on a platter if I’ll just sign with her. But every time I try to put my John Hancock to the contract the pen runs out of ink. By the time I wake up I’ve gone through at least a dozen Scriptos.

5. The “Ass Judge” from Pink Floyd’s The Wall

I’m on trial for failure to get a single book on the NY Times Bestseller List. The Judge isn’t too happy and decides to use my helpless, poppet body in a lively game of kick-the-can.

4. Just typing

this is a pleasant dream. In these my Muse is having a wonderful and fertile day. I’m typing away, paragraph after paragraph, and feeling great about how the storyline is coming.  I’m usually eating some kind of chocolate, too.

3. Something erotic this way comes

My favorite reoccurring dream here. Hubby and I are on a romantic excursion to some exotic locale, paid for entirely by my latest royalty check.

2. House hunting with Stephen King

in these Mr. King appears as a real estate agent, showing me homes in a prestigious woody subdivision. Unfortunately I know I’m not rich enough to make the down payment on one of the nicer homes and have to settle for purchasing an ancient monstrosity that’s on the verge of being condemned. The good part of these dreams is that despite ending up living in a dump I’m there surrounded by my family and know I’m very rich in love!

1. Vampires and the notebook

I am surrounded by vampires (typically Anne Rice-esque vampires – but once in awhile less-savvy type vampires like Grandpa here) who are fighting me for possession of a notebook. The notebook contains the first draft of a manuscript that I know will bring me  real success. The vampires swarm at me, sometimes even flying; biting my flesh and clawing my hair. But in the end the vampires fail to take that notebook away from my puny hands. Enter now Anne Rice, dressed in a scarlet velvet dress and brandishing a huge-ass crucifix. She says something to the effect of either “Off with her head!” or “Die, infidel pagan, die!” Next she turns into a withered, hideous hag and demands the vampires to attack me. They turn into flying monkeys, but with the notebook I begin whacking them one by one out of the air. They hurl to the ground,  hurt and too stunned to move, and now I turn away and walk through a door. I enter a field awash with sunlight and miles and miles of flowers. My husband meets me here, we make love and then together walk away into the sunset. As we go I can hear Anne Rice shouting at her vampire hoard in the background. She vows they’ll get “no chocolate” until they  either kill me..or bring her the head of Lora Leigh on a platter. I usually wake up from these dreams feeling pretty darned good, though I confess, I do sometimes have leftover concerns for poor Ms. Leigh.

There you have it and analyze as you will. But I wish all of you happy dreams and the fulfillment of your heart’s desires  ~Anya

www.anyahoward.com

Author Victoria Holt died aboard a cruise ship. Me, I’d really rather live on one!

Here’s pictorial proof that you can ply your writing trade in a stateroom: the new iPad and keyboard were awesome! Kept in touch via email, ripped up the sample chapters I’d stalled on to revamp them in a different POV, played a few games in the airport and listened to my iPod playlists. All with a gadget that slips into my purse. And now it’s a cool way to show off my trip pix, too!

Wow, what a trip we had on our Panama Canal cruise for 15 days! I’ve been keeping my tush in the chair writing proposals–and damn glad for the opportunity–ever since we got back, so this post will be brief and very pictorial! Just some highlights and observations about this voyage that took us in a huge circle: flew from St. Louis to sail from Ft. Lauderdale, FL. Stopped in Montego Bay, Jamaica; Cartagena, Colombia; cruised the Canal for an entire day; Puntaneras, Costa Rica; and then Huatulco, Puerto Vallarta, and Cabo San Lucas, Mexico before disembarking at San Francisco to fly home. A day at sea between each of those ports, with a balcony on our stateroom. Truly the trip of a lifetime!

Here’s the front end of our ship as we enter the Canal–and yes, that’s a freakin’ ROAD running in front of the first lock gates! How would you like to be the patient in that ambulance looking out the window?! The engineering of this lock and dam system has been in place for 100 years–so what happens to that road when it’s time for the ship to fully enter the lock? Each half retracts into the side walls! Oh–they stop the car traffic first!

And here’s the front end (helipad) of our ship when the lock wall’s about to swing open so ALL THAT WATER you see will float us up to the level required to get into the next lock. It’s a tight fit: we had about 6 feet forward and aft between us and those walls, and only 2 feet of leeway on each side.

A totally different vessel altogether: Neal and I rode a bamboo raft down a shallow, peaceful river in Montego Bay. Had a guy with a long pole guiding us around the rocks. He also rubbed soft river limestone into pumice and gave me a foot massage–that’s the white stuff you see on my feet, drying. Rinsed it off (and yeah, collected his tip!) when we got to the end point. Then we sampled piña coladas made with fresh pineapple, coconut they picked right there, and the local rum that makes everyone in Jamaica smile and say, “Yah, mon,” a lot.

Last but certainly not least, here’s the guy I really wanted to bring home with me! Our Indonesian table waiter at dinner, Hasrul (hoss-RULE), called me by name the second day, no matter where we saw him working at other meals. For 15 days he took my orders, brought fabulous food, made me laugh as he chatted in cute English, cleared away the dishes and all those pieces of silverware only he and God know the use for, and was kind enough to keep showing us the dessert teaser tray without any remarks about how we really didn’t need those calories! What a guy!

Some of you know my family got a black Standard Poodle pup last summer. His name is Jackson. (he dances like Michael – or a gazelle – or maybe like Michael would have if he’d been a gazelle)

He’s been such a happy pup – joyful, springy, and full of energy. Jackson’s strong enough to pull me into ditches, off the curb, and into poles when I’m not watching carefully. We tried a gentle leader, (a harness-like piece of head gear that helps with strong dogs) and he was smart enough to figure out how to get out of it.

Then we noticed he’d begun pulling so hard he’d loosen his collar and be able to back out of that, too. Not good when you’re trying to leash train him.

For a couple of months there, things were going well. If there weren’t a lot of distractions (like birds, or pine cones or litter blowing around) he’d walk along pretty well and a lot of the leaping and pulling ceased. Every time I watched The Dog Whisperer I’d try a little harder to remain calm and not get frustrated. For the most part, it worked.

But a few weeks ago, all of our hard work seemed for nothing. Jackson went back to his worst habits: he leaped after a cyclist and scared the poor guy into yelling. He’d eyeball cars as if he wanted to give chase, too, but I was quicker than him those times. He tried to chase birds (he has a real love/hate relationship with crows) and tackled every piece of blowing litter and leaves he saw.

The groomer had a hard time working on him because he was hyped up like a tweaker. Our cat, who has the patience of a saint, finally gave him what-for (not severely enough to my mind – should have happened months ago).

It was time to unman the man. The deed was done yesterday, and I can’t explain my feelings while I waited for the surgery to be over. I couldn’t write, I didn’t want to be in a mall or anywhere public…just in case *something* went wrong.

So, I did what I always do when I’m stressed: I read a romance novel…a Shannon Drake pirate novel. What fun!

Today, we’re back to our normal routine. Jackson’s beside me as I write this and periodically I tell him to “leave that alone!” when he tries to lick his stitches. Then he rolls his eyes at me as if he’s looking for pity.

There’s a tiny part of me that feels apologetic for the snip, but hey, life will be grand when we’re out walking like normal people again and cyclists and skateboarders and kids on trikes are safe.

But still, I’m pondering whether or not to give him a pair of those phoney little danglers that some pet owners have installed.

Maybe I’ll just let his hair grow in and hide his shame, instead.

It’s good to have my happy pup back, though. The house was incredibly quiet while I was waiting for that call…And thanks to a good romance novel, I got through it.

The first Wolf Tales released in January 2006. Chanku Rising, in Sexy Beast, came out the following March, and in July, Wolf Tales II hit the stores. I think Wild Nights, with Camille’s Dawn, came out in September or October, but that schedule is one that I’ve stuck to with my series since the beginning.

The second year started with Wolf Tales III, then Chanku Fallen in Sexy Beast II, and Wolf Tales IV in July, and then Chanku Journey in Sexy Beast III. Of course, at this point, the numbering was seriously screwed up by that Wild Nights anthology, and the fact that I couldn’t write novellas that weren’t totally connected to the main series. Readers are still giving me hell about that, but I kept on writing. By now, I was totally involved in the lives and loves of my Chanku.

And, I have to admit, I have gotten some gorgeous covers–of course, there was that little incident with Sexy Beast V–the one where the publisher had to add fog over that gorgeous hip and thigh to make it more acceptable. Of course, I’m showing you the original because I’m quite fond of that cover–he is absolutely gorgeous, and in my mind, it was flat out criminal to cover up that perfect slice of manflank, but the third year of Wolf Tales introduced Millie West and Manda, and Adam Wolf, who is one of my favorites, who showed up in Chanku Destiny. It’s also the year when Oliver found himself, with Adam’s help, and also found the love of his life when he met Mei Chen–and it was in Chanku Wild/Sexy Beast V, where their lives finally came together.

Wolf Tales VII was my first Romantic Times Top Pick for the series, followed by another one for Wolf Tales VIII. This year also brought six young Chanku into the pack, when a group of homeless kids rescued Tala from an assault in Golden Gate Park in Chanku Honor/Sexy Beast VI. Chanku Challenge, in Sexy Beast VII explored some of the issues facing Beth, one of the new members of the pack, but by now, my packs were not only expanding and growing, they were starting to reproduce! Keisha and Xandi had Lily and Alex, and Tia was pregnant. You ever try writing erotic romance with babies in the room? It’s not easy!

Wolf Tales 9 was a totally different book. I took a poll of my readers to find out which characters they wanted to know more about–I knew that this story would take place the night Tia gave birth, and I imagined the pack members gathering to hold vigil while Tia labored, all of them telling their own, personal stories as they passed the long night. Romantic Times gave this one two stars and said it was too emotional–I’ll grant them that. It is an emotional book–it was a tough one to write. I honestly didn’t know a lot of the background histories of my Chanku, who, by now, had become totally real to me. It will always hold a place in my heart because I realized that, during the course of writing this one, I had come to know each of my characters as real, living, breathing individuals. At the same time, there was a sense of change in the series, and I really felt it when I wrote Chanku Spirit in Sexy Beast VIII. I knew this was my last novella in the series–I’d recently signed my contract for The DemonSlayers series, and just didn’t have enough time to write four books plus two long novellas a year.

When I was working on Wolf Tales 10, my editor asked me to consider ending the series. With so many books (there will be 21 total, counting the novellas) she felt it was time to draw the story line to a close. As much as I hated to think of winding down and ending with number 12, I had to agree that it was time. Still, it’s a difficult adjustment to make, and I’m still not sure what will happen in that final book. In the meantime, I’ve got a proposal with my editor for a new series, one tentatively called SpiritWild, that follows the lives of the next generation–Lily and Alex all grown up, as well as Tia’s twin girls, and the other babies who will appear in the final books–Wolf Tales 11 and 12. I hope Kensington will pick up the new series–I’m really not ready to walk away from my Chanku entirely, not after spending the last five years so deeply connected to their world.

Anyway, the reason for this post is to formally announce that the series will be ending with Wolf Tales 12, due to release in July of 2011, but with any luck, the Chanku will go on in the next generation. And, there’s always a chance I’ll be able to bring my original Chanku back–my editor was adamant that I leave things open enough possibly to return to the same characters at a later date. We shall see. In the meantime, I need to reread all the books in the series so I don’t miss anything as I prepare to write that last title. I keep thinking we need to plan SOMETHING when it ends…anyone know a good therapist?

I’ll be giving away a couple of ARCs of HellFire to a couple of you leaving comments, even if it’s just to say you’re glad the series is ending! Take care, all…this will be a short contest and I’ll be choosing my winner Saturday morning.