Aphrodisia Authors :: Blog

Back from Orlando!

Some pictures for your enjoyment:

This was taken while waiting for the ferry. Is it any wonder I don’t leave here often? That last stretch of road on the way to the ferry is interesting…the jockeying for position begins earlier than you think, because at a busier time of year, one car can make a difference to whether you get on the ferry or not. We call that “the ferry races.” I won and caught ferry I needed that morning. YAY!

The Harlequin party is always a great time: This year’s theme was “picture perfect” and what a blast! This pic was taken before the dancing started and the shoes came off.
(I think if you can get through the whole evening with your shoes on you’re a wonder. Or you have toes of steel.)

At the RITA dinner with Sharon Page, Jessica Trapp and Diane Whiteside. By then, my bling dresses had been worn to the Kensington Cocktail party and the Harlequin party. But the blue stood out, don’t you think? The long stemmed roses were a gift from Alicia Condon, Editorial Director of Brava Books. A lovely gesture from a warm, lovely woman.

I would be remiss if I didn’t mention that photos from the past 30 years of RWA conferences were flashed on large screens overhead in the ballroom. When Kate Duffy’s photo came up there was a spontaneous standing ovation to honor her memory. She is missed, but in another moment of appreciation, her tradition of delivering chilled bottles of water to the Kensington authors during the gigantic booksigning was continued. (and SO appreciated)

For the eHarlequin Pyjama party I walked, head held high, across the lobby in my pjs. Yes, I really did. On the way back at least I wasn’t alone.

And no, I didn’t get a pic of me in those pjs…but they were black, silky and oh-so-elegant. Really. Far too nice to write in!

A wonderful conference and I’m especially grateful to the staff and Board of RWA for the fantastic job they did transferring everything to Orlando after the flood in Nashville. An incredible job!

Meantime, I’m counting down to the release of my next book, MEN TIMES THREE, an October release.

As ever, thanks for clicking on over and enjoy the rest of your summer!

RWA National Conference is but weeks away and after the terrible flooding in Tennessee, the members are lucky to be going! What a fabulous job the organization did to get us moved within days.

The gigantic (can we say humongous?) Autographing for Literacy is one of my favorite events. http://www.rwanational.org/cs/literacy_autographing

I’ll be there with copies of my HQ Blaze, Possessing Morgan (if still available)

I’ll also have my December release from Aphrodisia, Breathless to sign.

As a bonus, anyone who stops by to visit me will receive a signed cover flat of MEN TIMES THREE complete with an excerpt tucked inside. Credit goes to my husband for suggesting our book cover flats are just big

enough to fold a printed sheet inside. I’ve been doing this for a number of conferences now and readers seem to love getting the cover and excerpt together that way.

So, please, if you’re attending this event (Wednesday, July 28, from 5:30-7:30 p.m. at the Walt Disney World® Dolphin Resort, Pacific Exhibit Hall)come find me: I’ll be sitting between Cynthia Eden and Louisa Edwards who I’m sure will have line ups in front of them. I’ll be the lonely blonde wedged between their crowds. Stop by, say Hi and I’ll likely talk your ear off!

Life’s sweet, enjoy it!

Bonnie Edwards

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.

Ever have those days when you think: if everything falls into place, if everything’s just perfect, then I’ll decide. And it does fall into place and everything’s perfect and you say: Yes, I’ll go for it. I’ll do it, because if all these steps are this easy, it’s a sign that this decision on this day is the right one.

That happened to me last Friday. Yes. In spite of my intense dislike of Country music, I decided to go to the RWA National Conference in Nashville, TN.

This was a conference I’d decided not to go to. Family reasons, among others. (Not least of which is my intense dislike of Country music – I mean I leave stores if it’s playing, kind of dislike.) (See me wince – I may just have lost some readers with that admission. But, hey, everyone’s entitled to one weird thing – and that’s mine.)

But I toyed with the idea on Thursday that perhaps I should go, in spite of all the reasons not to. Overnight, I bargained with myself. If my good friend, Alexis Morgan, still had a bed available for a roommate, I’d go. (We’re negotiating on a massage for her cheering section should she win the RITA for which she’s deservedly nominated.) Then, I added the qualifier that if I could get a good price on her flight, I’d go.

All these things fell into place in under an hour: I registered for the conference at the early bird rate, Alexis had room for me to share with her, I got on her flight at a fabulous price and we even got early boarding and seat selection so we could sit together.

I mean – Wow! Right? Who wouldn’t decide that was a sign to go for it?

Then the skies over Nashville opened and the deluge began that flooded the river beside the hotel. The water rose and crested somewhere around 11 or 12 feet, washing away lives, property, homes, and businesses. My heart goes out to all the immediate victims and for all the long term effects.

By Sunday, the news was full of the devastation and people started to panic about the conference. Tweets were posted, pictures of the flooded hotel were everywhere, what ifs ran rampant on writer loops. Still, I felt good about my decision to go to National.

By late Monday the hotel was sending out cancellation notices to those people who’d booked rooms. RWA sent out an alert that they were doing everything they could to salvage the conference. It’ll have to move, it may have to change dates, it may have to be shorter, but I have faith it’ll happen.

Who knows? Maybe we’ll end up somewhere they play rock and roll or the blues, or jazz, or … sigh, anything but Country. All I know is, with all those details falling so smoothly into place, my decision to go is rock-solid.

Come hell or high water, I’ll be at National, wherever it is, for as long as it is….

Okay so maybe I have one more weird thing: my unshakeable belief that this year will be a good year to go to RWA’s national conference.

And now, to diet!

And no sooner had I sent this to publish first thing this morning, than I get confirmation that RWA has found the conference a new home in Orlando, FL. (okay, we’ve seen the high water so now I guess it’ll be hellish hot in Florida in July)

I haven’t been there in many many years, so I’m really excited about going…and this just goes to show what a great organization RWA is. They didn’t even have to change the dates. And all of this accomplished in under 3 days. Amazing!

Ambition is a strong desire for achievement, rank, success or power, according to several dictionaries.

According to writers? The strong desire is to be published. Early on, it’s to sell a first book, to be validated as a writer or some more personal goal.

As time moves on ambitions change or maybe ambition changes us. I’m not entirely sure what happens first. I just know my goals have changed. What seemed totally unattainable a few short years ago, have now happened.

Recently I went to dinner with a group of writers. We represented erotic romance, romantic suspense, category romance, historical and Regency romance. We’ve written novellas, single titles, trade paper, even a couple of non-fiction books. We’ve all published multiple books with multiple houses. (Wow, don’t we sound like an impressive lot – before writing this I’d have said a bunch of buddies got together at a local restaurant to eat, drink and be merry, but suddenly it sounds like some lit’ray function.)

As we took our seats and ordered drinks, we cheered and called ourselves “survivors” for having been in publishing for a number of years. The talk turned to careers, the business, the changes in the business (the only constant in publishing is change itself).

In the midst of our rambling convoluted conversation I said, “Ambition’s the bitch. No matter that 2 years ago I sold 3 books in a matter of days, I want more and I want it now.”

Yes! Ambition’s what drives us all. We’ve had our thrills, our successes and for a time we were happy with deadlines and plots and characters. But then, ambition worms its way into our thoughts, and we want the next sale, the next hurdle in our personal journey.

For women to be described as ambitious isn’t always flattering. In fact, sometimes it’s read to mean something rather less than feminine. Ambitious women are often shown as, well, um, bitchy, power mad, and manipulative.

But for writers those things can’t help. Bitchiness gets you nothing but disliked. There’s no such thing as real power in publishing for writers because writers have no control over changes in the marketplace. As for being manipulative? You get to manipulate your characters/story/pacing/plotlines all you want so that’s out of your system by the end of every day anyway.

But without ambition, the writers at that table wouldn’t sit down and do the work every day. We wouldn’t dream our dreams, write the stories, do the work that ambition demands.

Ambition’s the bitch that bites us, that rides us, that we feed, that we harbor.

Personally, I love my inner bitch. She takes me places I’d never have been without her.

So last month, I talked about how I wandered into stores in the gorgeous State of California and joked about how I *didn’t* look like the cover model on my December release Breathless.

Comes my March release from Harlequin Blaze and I trot myself all over town from drug store to grocery store to discount super store to sign the books on the shelves.

Thrilling indeed. One chain has four copies in each store, another only 2, but hey…I’m there on the shelf with some of the best authors Harlequin has to offer. I’m pumped, I’m ready and armed with my little gold “autographed copy” stickers that fit perfectly under the Blaze logo.

I like to introduce myself and get permission to sign books. So, in the third store of the afternoon, I take the copies to the Customer Service desk and hold up the top copy.

“This,” says I, “is me and I’d like to sign them all.”

The customer service lady looks at POSSESSING MORGAN, then at me, then back to the book. A look of chilled horror comes over her expression.

The penny dropped. “No, no! This isn’t me.” I point to the gorgeous brunette on the cover. “I wrote it. I’m the author.” I point bravely to my name.

I thought she was going to crumple to the floor. Not, as you may think, with the thrill of meeting an author in her drug store, but with relief that she didn’t have a nutjob on her hands.

Yes, she thought I was saying I was the cover model. Now, seriously, how nutty do I look? I’m just glad she didn’t call for security, because she admitted that she was wondering how the hell to handle me.

The next store I went to I decided not to bother anyone who worked there and just signed the books I found on the shelf. Yes, I wondered if I was on a security camera and had visions of being kicked out of the store for defacing their inventory.

But now I’m wondering if I should change my hair to dark brown.

To celebrate the release of Possessing Morgan I’ll be giving away one copy to someone who comments here today…and shares a moment of total miscommunication with a stranger. I’m sure we’ll come up with some doozies!

During the first weeks of January, my dh and I chose to leave our rainy, dreary home to venture south for some sun. Our destination was anywhere the sun was shining in California.

Huh. (We bumped into every rainstorm they had! Not to mention snow going over Mt. Shasta.)

First stop, Burbank (signed a copy of Breathless in the downtown B&N)where we had a ball going to the Jay Leno Show. Understand, this was the first week all the kerfuffle started with Jay, Conan O’Brien and their network. All the way south we wondered if Jay would be there come Monday.

He was. The show was great, and Bill Cosby (another fave) was his guest. Mr. Cosby is a wonderful storyteller: rambling, touching and very funny.

But rather than try to negotiate the freeways in any downpours of rain, we chose to head to the desert. I found copies of Breathless, Built and Pure Sex in a Borders store and B & N.

Clerks in bookstores are always so nice to me…mostly because I joked about the cover of Breathless this time. My joke?

Hold up the book, say “I’m her…well, not her, (move finger to bottom of book and point out my name) I’m HER. Not on my best days did I ever look like the photo.”

Lots of chuckles about beautiful cover art…and then, like magic those clerks warmed up, felt comfy and let me sign away. One person asked me for identification and I have to wonder how often they get impostors coming in to sign books, but once I handed him my card, he believed me. Luckily he didn’t ask me to quote any of the love scenes because I tend to write those in the zone and rarely remember them clearly.

Everywhere we went I stopped at bookstores and signed whatever stock they had. What a wonderful way to spend my vacation.

I have to add that I swung into a Borders store in San Francisco and the clerk ran away to get the Customer Service Rep…who proclaimed her love of romance authors. Seems she recalls about 30 of them descending on the store during the Romance Writers of America conference in 2008. She told me we’re the nicest bunch of authors she’s ever met. (I have to say she’s right.) She was thrilled to have me stop in. (Hey, I’m tickled pink to see my books on the shelves so we’re even!)

I’m counting down the weeks now to the release of my Harlequin Blaze, Possessing Morgan. I’m thrilled!

Possessing Morgan will be available March 1 everywhere!

Here it is January 6 and I’m already watching the clock. Not the time per se…but the time when the sun sets. I’m so ready for the days to get longer! Strolling after dinner in daylight is so much more pleasant than wandering around in the dark. Our neighborhood has ditches and no sidewalks or curbs. It’s very easy to twist an ankle.

My poodle pup leaped (they leap like deer!) Into a ditch a few weeks ago and nearly pulled me off my feet. He’s now getting used to a harness type lead that means he pulls against his own weight.

We’ll take him to training sessions in the coming weeks…but in the meantime…I’m watching the sky for hints of longer days.

Seriously, I start watching as early as this. Pfft! In another two weeks I’ll be telling myself I’m seeing a real difference! Whether it’s true or not. I lie to myself on a regular basis, so what’s one more?

I’m pleased to say that I’ve now got excerpts posted on my site for my newest release, BREATHLESS. One excerpt for each novella, so go have fun and get a little breathless. www.bonnieedwards.com

I’ve also posted my cover for my upcoming Harlequin Blaze, Possessing Morgan as well. I’m getting seriously excited about the release of that one, too. As I get nearer to release day I’ll send out a reminder in my newsletter.

In the meantime, I’ll be watching the sky and counting off those extra minutes of sun.

Happy 2010 to everyone and just so you know, this year I’ve got a couple of goals (I don’t like resolutions because they can be pie-in-the-sky stuff.) One is to keep my website updated more often, and to actually send out newsletters on occasion. OH, yeah, and to lose a little weight, use the treadmill more, laugh more often, and love a lot.

If you can think of any more for me, let me know!

Bonnie Edwards

I don’t know why I get ranty at this time of year, but I tend to.

One year I posted about Blue Christmas and how some people just grind their teeth waiting for the holiday to be over. A New Year beckons and they can start fresh, their painful memories of Christmas past behind them for another too-short year.

Like many people, I have elderly folks in my life. They live in a Manor (aka retirement home with nursing staff) and like most of these places, there will be a Christmas party.

There will be a volunteer on a piano or organ. There will be red and green crackers at the tables and festive table centerpieces. There will be a trimmed tree that sparkles with twinkly lights. There will be eggnog and fruitcake.

There will be Santa.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I like Christmas as much as the next person. I took my pup for a picture with Santa this year because the proceeds went to my local SPCA. I smile and laugh at little children in the mall with Santa. I sing carols. I hum along to canned Christmas music in the mall.

I even love The Little Drummer Boy and play it every year. There’s something about giving your best and doing your best that resonates with me. And Porky Pig’s version of Blue Christmas cracks me up every time I hear it.

But Santa in an old age home? Oh, please. He walks in ho-ho-hoing and tossing teddy bears hither and yon. He speaks to these residents as if they’re 3 ½ years old.

Last year was my first experience in this place for this party. I was appalled. But eerily, I think I was alone in that reaction. My dh was fine with Santa patronizing every lady and gentleman in the place.

If these people could smack that elf upside the head they would. If they could run the other way, they would. If they knew what the hell this guy was saying they’d spit in his eye.

It’s undignified to treat people like children when they’ve worked all their lives, raised their own families, then found themselves so infirm that they have to put up with some stranger in a red frigging suit yelling at them and clapping his hands when they try to look past him and scream in silence to be freed.

Just because people are confused about what day it is, or who their loved ones are, doesn’t mean they’ve reverted to childhood. It means they’re confused and/or forgetful… or medicated.

It does not mean it’s okay to clap in their faces and ooh and aahh at them like little children.

The elderly people in my life didn’t much care for the frivolity of Christmas even in their best years. Why force them to put up with it now?

Why can’t there be a lovely meal? Some carols playing? A dignified remembrance of the Christmases that came before? A slideshow from family members perhaps? Old home movies playing from the different families? Warm fuzzies would work for me. I’d be touched and very pleased to walk down memory lane with residents.

End of rant. See you again with a new one next Christmas.

My latest book is now out on the shelves and I’ve blogged all over the net about it for two whole weeks.

Here now, I guess I should be all rah-rah about it again. So, here goes: Breathless is now available everywhere. Please go buy it and make my Christmas bright. (Just don’t clap in my face or toss me a teddy bear – I’m not old enough for that . . . yet.)

Here’s wishing you the joy of the season, the love and warmth of family and friends and the happiest New Year you can imagine.

Thanks so much to all the Aphrodisia readers who keep coming back to this blog and our site to cheer us on!

And please share your own warm fuzzy Christmas memories. One lucky commenter will win an autographed copy of BREATHLESS to keep you warm all the way through January. Check back in the comments section on the 10th when I announce the winner…maybe two…what the heck, tis the season of joy and generosity.

The days surrounding release of a book are hectic to say the least. Reviews come in, guest blog spot reminders show up in your inbox and your addiction to your book’s Amazon rank rears its ugly ugly head. (I fool myself that I’ve got this one beat, but it never really goes away. If you’re an ex-smoker, it’s like the scent of outdoor cigarette smoke…alluring but oh-so-bad for you.)

So, here I am taking up a blog day to share some of my reviews on my newest anthology, BREATHLESS.

It’s been twenty-two months since THIGH HIGH came out so I’m particularly pleased by the review of BREATHLESS that came in from You Gotta Read Reviews and got their highest rating! Rating: You Gotta Read

Reviewer: Sashet
In Bonnie Edwards first release in almost two years you don’t have to worry that she’s lost her magic touch. Each story in this book will have you wanting to turn on the air conditioning no matter how cold it is outside. She takes you on the gamut of emotions, worry, fear, determination and most importantly shell make you fall in love with her too sexy for a woman’s good heroes.

So, if you like your books scorching hot run, don’t walk, to your nearest bookstore and pick this one up. Because this one – You Gotta Read!

From Harriet Klausner: (5 Stars)
These three fun erotic novellas are tied together by undergarments and plenty of sex. . . .

I’ll be back on my regularly scheduled day to blog here, which is the 6th of each month. In the meantime, please enjoy your Thanksgiving and not gain a pound!

And may there be no injuries come Black Friday. Shopping should be good for you!