Does Size Matter? - Romance Heroes

I thought I'd get this out of the way so you can all stop wondering about it. It's time to let your naughty imaginations run wild, sit down in the gutter and think about dicks. Yes, today we look at the male endowment of our romance heroes. Get the tape measure out, drop your favorite mans pants and lets talk about the size of our romance heroes dongers. For those sitting reading this and thinking WTF? A donger is Aussie slang for a man's penis. For those who aren't Australian and want to know how to incorporate this amazing word into a sentence in a real life setting it would go something like this... 

     "Oh. My. God, you have the biggest donger I've ever seen." 

or in relation to a discussion about romance novel heroes the statement could read...

    "Why do romance heroes always seem to have enormous dongers?"

 Personally I love a large penis, as long as it' nice looking, but that's probably a whole separate topic of conversation. When I write my heroes I make them big, in nearly every sense. Tall, wide shoulders, muscular legs and torso's but not muscle bound hulks. To me, if a man is going to be on the tall muscly side he needs to be large between the legs, not enormous, but ample enough to touch, slide against and stimulate every nerve ending inside the heroines pussy and have her screaming in delight. Is it realistic? No, of course not. Even tall strapping men can have micro dicks and weedy little nerds can have huge dongers. 

According to one Men's Health website I found the average penis when erect is 6.3 inches *clunk* 

(sorry, I accidentally typed 63 inches and fainted, lucky I found that typo) *fans self and regains her composure.* The site also states that 90% of all men measure between 5.6 and 7 inches when erect. Nine out of ten men are average, that only leaves ten percent of men in either the huge donger or micro penis categories. If we go 50/50 on the remaining 10% then romance men make up a mere 5% of the population, not great odds for those of us looking to find one in real life, but then romance heroes aren't real, are they? 

So why do I and a large percentage of romance authors design men that barely exist? Is it just an extension of the fantasy world we create? Perhaps. I often hear people say, I read romance to escape from reality. I know that's often true for me when I read. Is it then a necessity that our heroes are also unreal as well? A tall handsome, sexy man with cock to spare who can satisfy their woman in every way. A man who knows what the heroine wants before she does and who is happy to give it to her, both sexually and emotionally. So, is that what we want, or do we want a bit more reality in our heroes? 

Most of my friends and I have had the romance heroes always have big dicks discussion, it comes up on a regular basis (no pun intended) and it appears to be the accepted and encouraged norm. So as well as wanting a fictional (barely real) hero, does the size of his penis add to the titillation when reading about him? If 90% of men (our husbands/boyfriends/lovers) are average, then does the thought of having something big turn us on, firing our imagination as we read and making the story more pleasurable. Would the reading experience be the same if the hero fell into the normal category? Would Mr Average Appendage hero be a disappointment? I think he might, well at least for me. I want a hero that's larger than life in every sense. One who is so different from what I know or my experience, that I fall in love with him and stay in love even after the book is closed. 

I shouldn't say so but my favorite hero that I've written to date is Steve Jax. I fell in love with him as a minor character in Finding Angel and continue to love him even after I finished writing his story, Playing Jax. Of course he shares my heart with a few other heroes. Wrath, the blind king from the Black Dagger Brotherhood Series as well as Vishous from the same series, Gregori and Dominic from the Carpathian books, and my list could go on. I'm sure you all have your own favorites. 

In every day life there are two main catch cries from a lot of men and women in regard to male endowment. the first size doesn't matter, the second, it's what a man does with it that counts. So, why don't we read that sort of sentiment in our romances?    

What do you think? Would you still love a hero if he didn't have a huge donger? 

Does Size Matter? - The Books We Read

Over the next fours weeks I'm going to be doing a few posts that fall into a little series I'm going to call Does Size Matter? You can probably guess some of the topics I'll be covering, especially those of you with dirty minds who are now siting reading this thinking about large penises. I know who you are and you're all very naughty :)

Today though I'm thinking about the size of books we read. Not as in physical size, but word count. What is considered the ideal length for a book. Personally I like reading large novels. The larger the book the better (as long as the story grips me of course). I find that if a novel is larger I get more information about the characters, the story is often more in-depth and has a few twists and turns along the way. I like to know the ins and outs of the characters I read about, seeing how they fit into the society that surrounds them, watching their interplay with the other characters, even minor ones. That's what I find enjoyable, I find it a complete experience rather than a shorter book that leaves me with unanswered questions. Of course the questions may not be pertinent to the story, it's probably just something I've wondered about as I've read. 

When I wrote Finding Angel it turned out to be 160,000 words long. I had friends say it wouldn't get published because it was too long and  some publishers I couldn't submit to as the novel was over their recommended word length. I re-looked at it, discussed with my two beta readers what I could possible remove. Their opinion matched mine. Nothing.  Finding Angel is the first in my Wylde Shore Series, it introduces the characters,  the setting where they live, the social dynamic in the BDSM community in which the characters participate and the suspense elements that flow through each of the subsequent works. Luckily I found a publisher willing to take the chance and publish Finding Angel, which, despite people telling me  was too long, received positive reviews and mostly four to five star ratings from both readers and review sites.

Subsequent books in the series are smaller, but not by much. Playing Jax was 120,000 words and Switching Mercedes, the current WIP from that series is set to come in at between 120 -140,000 words. They are novels and I love writing them even though they take me a longer period of time to create.  I also have a novella series, most of the books in that are under 20,000 words (but only just). The Sydney Cougar Series has also received great reviews from both readers and professional review sites, but they don't sell in the same numbers that Finding Angel and Playing Jax have. I'm not sure if that's because of the size or other differentials within the story and genre they fall into. It's a bit of a mystery to me at present and one of the reasons to include book length in the Does Size Matter set of blogs.

Most publishers have a guideline for book size that goes something along these lines. Short stories are under 15,999 words, novellas fall into the 16,000 to 45,000 word length and a novel is over 45,000 and up to 120,000 words. With a large number of publishers only novel length manuscripts go to print, unless the publisher prints an anthology of the novella or short story length books. I' not sure if the sizing is effective or accurate, there is a huge word difference between 45 and 120 thousand and in fact most of the print books I buy and read by popular authors are often in excess of 120,000 words. 

JR Ward, whose books I love, are huge. They're detailed but enthralling and I'd probably be disappointed if I didn't end up with a house brick weight size book to read when I purchase one of her novels. I feel a similar way about Christine Feehan's Dark Series, Nalini Singh novels and Lora Leigh's books. So does popularity dictate the acceptable size of a novel, does the publisher, does the reader or should it be left up to the creator of the story - the author? 

For me, I write a story until the characters don't have anything else to say, until their story is told. If that means it's a heavyweight like Finding Angel or a 16,500 word novella like my last completed work, All You Can Eat, then so be it. I hope my readers enjoy my books no matter what length they are, but it doesn't stop me from wondering if the size of the book really does make a difference to sales, to reader likability  to review ratings, and to people coming back and purchasing other titles in my list of works. 

So what do you all think? Does Size Matter when it comes to the length of a book?

Six Months later

It's six months today since Shane died. Like any relationship ours wasn't perfect. We had our moments of love, joy and pain. Nothings perfect, or at least I haven't experienced anything that is yet. Luckily I had moments that have come close, some of them with Shane, but not many. Ours certainly wasn't the stuff romance novels are made off. For the past six months I've wandered around, feeling lost. I realized that even though Shane had left me, I hadn't left him and I wasn't even sure how to do that.

Surprisingly, I woke up the other morning with one thought firmly planted in my mind...

ENOUGH.

I love you for loving me when I thought I was
wasn't worth it.
I hate you for leaving me when I wasn't prepared for you to go.
I thank you for supporting me and telling me I was good enough.
I despise you for abusing me, when I deserved better.
I cherish the loving moments, you made me
believe you cared.
I reject the mind games and emotional pain,
you were a Masterful puppeteer.
I smile remembering how I laughed at your crazy antics and sarcastic wit.
I cry remembering your angry tongue and the stinging venom on it's tip.
I've sorted the good, the bad and the ugly, each now assigned their appropriate place.
Once again I'm able to gaze into your life wearied and hardened face.

Six months of tirelessly expending energy when I had no energy to spare.
I leave your intricately designed labyrinth of word, deed, emotion and care.
My conclusion is simple, although it's taken me time to see.
So I say, as Sarah did with her Goblin King...you have no hold over me.

When the World Tilts on it's Axis

I've had a lack of posts recently, and for a very good reason. My world has tilted on it's axis and I find that most days I'm struggling just to stand upright.

Around 12 weeks ago Shane (the grumpy old man I live with) started complaining about a pain in his back. Like any male he refused to go to the doctor saying it was just a pulled muscle. Eight weeks ago the pain was so excruciating he was taken to hospital by ambulance. That's when the ground under us started to tremble. Ten days later, specialists stood next to Mr Grumpy's hospital bed and announced he had eight weeks to live, give or take a few weeks of course because medicine isn't a perfect science, or so they said. Shane was diagnosed with small cell carcinoma of the right lung.  I didn't need to be told that this was one of the most aggressive kinds of cancer you can get. I already new.

Up until that point I'd never paid much attention to the saying "truth is stranger than fiction" but recently I've learnt that it is. When I wrote my first novel, Finding Angel, one of the characters, Steve Jax, was married. It became clear that he was a good candidate for his own book so, of course, I had to get rid of his wife. Callous...yes. I wanted something that would kill her quickly so I turned to my favourite research tool, google. By the end of the book, Steve's wife was diagnosed with a terminal illness...small cell carcinoma of the lung. Fuck. Who knew?

Mr Grumpy, before he got sick.

When the doctors announced Shane's diagnosis, I felt sick. My research already told me everything I needed to know and doctors confirmed the accuracy of what you can find on the Internet these days. Small cell cancers are the most aggressive and fastest growing kind of cancer you can get. In Shane's case the disease was advanced, but more tests were needed to tell us how advanced, there are treatment options in some cases but there is no cure, the cancer will kill you. Doctors scheduled a PET scan. They told us the scan would show what they call 'hot spots' in Shane's body. Cancer cells in clumps as small as eight to ten cells. He had the test and his body lit up like lights on a friggin' Christmas tree. The lung was the primary sight, other cells of varying size showed up in his lymph nodes, his neck, his liver, and in the bones of his ribs, spine, hips and the large bones of his arms and legs. Treatment options were limited. Doctors offered chemotherapy, a four month intensive treatment that he may or may not survive, that may or may not work to extend his life. As I said, medicine isn't a perfect science and as such outcomes can't be guaranteed.

Shane declined their offer of treatment. His philosophy being, why delay the inevitable. Why indeed? When doctors looked at me and asked what I thought I could only answer one way. It's Shane's life and I support the decision he's made.

So the world continues to tilt. Life confirming it is stranger than fiction every day. Over the last few weeks I've sat at Mr Grumpy's bedside and watched his eighty year old father beg him to have chemo, the answer was still no. I've seen him in such excruciating pain that he changes color like a chameleon as doctors battle to get his pain to a tolerable level, they now seem to have won that battle. I've listened to Shane comfort family and friends, reassuring them about his imminent death, when it should be the other way around. I've born the brunt of his anger when he's told me to fuck off and get out of his hospital room. I've fought with nurses when his pain medication has been overdue (yes, my terms of endearment moments have been many, although I'm sure in the movie Shirley MacLaine had her meltdown far more eloquently than I do). I've watched his chest stay motionless and found myself willing him to please take another breath. And over the last few days I've sat next to his bed and prayed for all this to just end. Selfish...I know...but sometimes when you're on an emotional roller coaster, all you can do is feel whatever's thrown at you, and brace yourself for the next crest of joy or gully of pain.

At least the world isn't completely upside down just yet. Even though Shane and my world may be spiralling out of control, the rest of the world is still normal. Well, as normal as it pretends to be. I'm trying to hold onto what I know will be my reality after Shane's gone. So, in the midst of all the chaos, edits for Playing Jax are done, it's releasing in May (hopefully). Healing a Cougar's Heart went through the edit and release process and came out a few days ago, which was ahead of schedule I think. And despite everything that's going on I've now gone back to working on the next cougar manuscript again, so with any luck I can get it to the publisher on time. Yes, even though truth is stranger than fiction, it's fiction that's currently keeping me sane.

So, as the world continues to tilt all I can do is be there for Mr Grumpy, watch and wait, try to maintain my balance, and hold on so I don't fall over the edge.

Truth is stranger than fiction, but it is because Fiction is obliged to stick to possibilities; Truth isn't. Mark Twain



Post Update: 

My Grumpy Old Man, Shane Charles Tollis, passed away at midday on Thursday 4th May. He was 56 years old.

RIP Shane and thank you for sharing your love with me.

Something is wrong, were fixing it soon.

This past week I feel like my life has been one long error message. I hadn't been able to figure out what was wrong until I was trying to update my website and a message popped up on my screen. Something is wrong...we're fixing it soon. Just great! It was only then it occurred to me, maybe the problem is me. Well, metaphorically of course. It never ceases to amaze me that the universe can send you enlightening massages through the most benign circumstances. My decline started last Saturday on an escalator at Central Station in Sydney, around 10 a.m. in the morning. Contrary to what some of my friends think, I was NOT drunk...lol. I managed to see the day through until around 3 p.m, then I had to call an end to my planned weekend of fun and frivolity. I retreated arriving home about two hours later, very sore and hardly able to walk. Poor me. The week just got worse from then on.

I had so much work to do, including finishing my second book. Up until I'd gone to the city I'd been flying through the pages, everything falling into place, sticking to my schedule of at least one chapter a day. After the incident, everything stopped, just like the bloody escalator.

Sunday I decided to rest, I took painkillers and slept most of the day and night. Monday I knew I had to get back to work. I had a schedule, daily tasks to complete, a To Do list a mile long. I tried to write a few blogs...it didn't work. I didn't like them, the words wouldn't come out the way I thought they should. I opened my manuscript, then closed it. If I can't get a blog to make sense then how can I write a book. I decided I'd give myself another day off and went back to bed to read. Tuesday I managed to finish the guest blogs I'd been working on and emailed them away, I did a couple of tweets and updates on a couple of other sites. I opened the manuscript, then closed it. It all seemed overwhelming. I went back to reading the book I'd chosen the day before. The rest of the week continued the same way, turn on computer, check emails, tweet, post, open manuscript, close manuscript, go to bed and read. Outside the rain pelted down on the ground, the sky was grey, the clouds dark an ominous. It reflected my mood perfectly.

By Friday I was firmly entrenched in a dark lazy cocoon. I constantly ran through the tasks I knew I had to complete. Write two book reviews - at least I've finished reading the books, I'll do the reviews later. Do a final edit and submit the second novella in the Sydney Cougar series to my publisher- it's not good enough and I don't feel like being rejected in the mood I'm in. Work on completing Playing Jax, the second book in the Wylde Shore series - why bother, I don't even know if people will like the first one. I had no idea where the thoughts were coming from but I didn't resist them, I let them dwell. Big mistake. I swear if my name was Vincent van Gogh, I'd only have one ear by now. But I'm not Vincent and all I really had was a sore knee, a messed up bed, five completed novels scattering the floor, and a miserable attitude. I picked up the next book in the series I found myself reading and snuggled under the blankets. Who cares, not me.

On Saturday, after crying my way through the final chapters of Christine Feehan's Dark Melody, I realised the rain had stopped. So, with both ears still intact, I dragged myself out of bed, showered, dressed and took my lousy attitude to life out to do some grocery shopping. I will go back and apologise to the check out operator I growled at sometime within the next couple of days, after all it wasn't her fault she was in a good mood. Today I sat down at the computer determined to get back in touch with my old self. I sent the book review requests I had been putting off all week, did the social network stuff, returned emails and attempted to update the website. Error and inspiration message from the universe received. Thanks so much.

Something is wrong, we're fixing it soon. Well...no...I'm fixing it now actually. I'm fighting my way out of the fog and I'm on my way to turning my sappy, depressed attitude into a blessing. I've decided to channel my misery into my novels villain. She is a woman who likes to make people miserable because her own life is not turning out the way she wanted it too. Not that I'm like that, but I figure I can turn my current wallowing, oh poor me, life sucks week, into something worthwhile.

Tweet, Tweet, Twiddle de Tweet.

I may not rock in the treetops all day long, hopping and bopping and singing my song... but I do tweet. Social networking, the modern day authors new nightmare. When I first decided to concentrate on being an full-time author, I had now idea what I was letting myself in for. Ignorance is bliss doesn't really cover what I've discovered, but it goes a long way to explaining it. Once my first manuscript was completed, I went on the biggest learning curve of my life. In olden days, or at least my idea of them, authors wrote a book, got published, did a few book signings & interviews, then went back to their cave to write something else. I realise it's probably an incorrect notion or simplistic view of the olden day, but movies are really all I have to go on. I should probably add that if you were a crime or suspense writer, in between the signing and writing, you probably solved a few crimes or mysteries along the way, rescued a damsel or two and saved at least one city from destruction.

But I digress...

Once my manuscript was complete, I started to contemplate getting published. I know, it probably wasn't the best way to do things. I should have actively sought a book deal when the story was in plot form, but why organise something when I didn't even know if my ADD brain would even finish the manuscript. After all, I have a pile of them. Incomplete and dusty pages of dribble from pre-computer days, along with the mess of neglected archived files on mass storage devises, collecting cobwebs in their own techie kind of way.

But again, I digress...

So, while trolling publishers and investigating the how-too's and where-for's of the modern day literary world, I discovered the unthinkable. There is a monster preying on the lives of the modern day writer. Whether your published or not, the shadow of the creature lurks, tracking your every move. It's tentacles slowly reach for you, attempting to invade your soul. The beast's mystical powers of deception lull your once alert sense of foreboding, allow him to caress you and draw you closer. Now your within striking distance, your jugular exposed. Fangs pierce your skin, injecting a venom that targets your mind, eroding your creativity and encouraging you to seek distraction within the monsters arms. Once taken into the monsters embrace it is hard to break free, sharp talons pierce your body, clawing toward your heart. If the creature obtains your heart, it's all over, you are lost. You become enslaved. Trying to break free causes pain, you must obey the beast, seek solace, submit to its ever controlling will. You have become ensnared in the social networking world and your life will never be the same again.

I hear you all scoffing... Yeah, right! Crazy woman! But deep inside you know I'm telling the truth.

I started my dance with the monster about six months ago. A lot of the publishers I approached insisted authors have an Internet presence. Whether you're published or not, you need an online profile. Personal marketing gone made, attract readers for a book that isn't yet accepted for publication. Realising the fight to avoid said Internet exploitation was a losing battle, I conceded defeat and opened my google home page. How do you build an Internet presence? I felt the dark shadow drift over me, a chill quivered along my spine, the caress of something near my ankle caught my attention and I looked down. The tentacle of the god of knowledge encircled my ankle and wound it's way around my shin. Of course, you allow the beast to approach.

I already had a facebook profile, it was amusing at times. I posted stupid things and made the odd comment on friend's walls. I didn't mind going on there every so often, seeing what my real and pretend facebook friends were doing. I did however, recognise it for the time waster it was. So now, in order to look more appealing to prospective publishers I had to revisit not only facebook, but other sites I previously chose to ignore. My first step was to create a facebook page to highlight my work. It took me a nearly a day to set up. By the time I had filled in all the information, chosen pictures, sent invites, and read all the disclosure statements, I had wasted more time than I anticipated. I slowly started getting people to like the page...sloowwwly. Deciding I must be doing something wrong, I mean, why didn't I have a million followers in a week, I looked at what else I could do. A tentacle,  the god of inspiration, wrapped around my left leg. Genius....I'll write a blog. Time rolled by, a few days in fact. I had to find the blog site that suited me, then design the blog page. Again, more pictures, more info about me, my work... blah blah blah. The first blog post finally went live. Hallelujah! Praise the tentacle god of inspiration.

Eight weeks later, after posting on facebook, writing blogs, and sharing the blog to my facebook wall I had the strange feeling I should be doing more. There was a caress on my back, another tickle of inspiration as the tentacle god of seduction encircled my waist. I needed more social networking hits, more traffic to the blog, more facebook friends liking my page. I need to do more, to get more. Twitter, everyone talks about twitter. Sign up, write the profile, follow people, encourage people to follow me... more, more, more. Tweet this and tweet that. Link twitter to facebook, facebook to twitter, send the blog post to both. Now I'm getting the hang of self promotion. Now I'm getting word out about me. Now I'm connecting. The first offer of a contract, made me cry with relief. The second contract had me dancing around the house. Dancing hand in tentacle with monster, allowing the mystical powers of deception to fill my senses. Must tweet, post, blog. announce to the world I'm going to be published. When the email arrived asking for my website address I panicked. Then I felt the beast's warm breath on my neck, deception whispered in my ear. Its' easy, design a website now. A week later my website went live. Must tweet, post, blog, tell the world I have a website. The monsters tentacles pulsed around me, deception lulled me into a quiet satisfaction that I was doing everything as I should, I relaxed.

When the intervention came I tried to deny it. The lady of the industrial city didn't hold back her concern.
      "If you can write the first book in four months, how is it you've only written two chapters of the second book in the last six months. You aren't going to make a living on one novel. When was the last time your worked on the book? You do need to write you know, isn't that what your supposed to be...a writer."
I write. I write every day! I tweet, I post, I comment, I chat, I blog... I WRITE! At the periphery of my vision I saw a man. He was pale, thin, the tone of his muscles less defined. He'd was dejected, alone, obviously neglected...it was Steve, my hero from the second manuscript. What had I done?

Suddenly the hot breath on my throat annoyed me. The tentacles of seduction, inspiration and knowledge, tightened painfully. I turned to stare into the monster's eyes. Deception radiated toward me, he was eyeing the pulse at my throat, lips snarled back to expose fang dripping with venom. OMG, I write social networking waffle everyday. I flung my fists at the beast chest, I struggled. I screamed out to Steve, his gaze lifted, and he smiled. I held out my hand and he rushed toward me, prying the tentacles from my body with his bare hands. Work with me, his unspoken message invaded my mind, allowing me time to think clearly. I imagined a sword, fire licking at it's chiseled blade, chains empowered with magic to secure any mythical beast who threatened the weak. Steve took up the weaponry and stuck at the beast. Tentacles lacerated, I fell to the ground. He swung the chain. Fangs shattered, before it's mouth was bound, tightly shut. Steve encircled the beast's body with he remain chain, tentacles strapped to it's body, legs shackled...immobilised.

Steve and I embraced, he administered a healing salve to my wounds and we walked away, together. But what of the beast. Steve explained I needed to keep him, a bound reminder of distractions that lay in wait, taking my focus off the prize. The monster quickly shrank in size, he sits on my desk, approaching my keyboard twice a day at the times I designate. He whimpers and looks at me forlornly until I allow him to feed. We visit the social networking site together, no more than an hour or two a day. So far the existence is a happy one. Steve and I have resumed work, his strength regained, his presence within my mind now firm and, as always, protective. I am once again the master of my own destiny...and Mistress to a little shackled beast who wobbles around my desk complaining the chains are too tight.

It's Amazing What A Younger Man Can Do For An Older Woman.

It's official.... I have just signed my first publishing contract! Yay.

*Insert mental picture of a chubby woman doing a happy tushie dance here*

My good friend Suzie has been telling me for too many years to remember, I should ditch dating the older aging hippies I'm usually attracted to and go for a younger man. Yeah, Yeah... blah, blah... has always been my standard response. Well on the fourth of September 2011 a younger man by the name of  Zeke made my day and I'm still reeling from the aftermath.

Get your minds out of the gutter.... please, what do you think I'm talking about here?

If you've read any of my previous posts, visited my facebook page, or had anything to do with me over the last twelve months, you'll know that I've been trying to get my novel "Finding Angel" firstly written and secondly, now that it's completed, published. It's been an interesting time. Angel still needs a home and I'm confident she will find one, we just need to be patient. But Angel is another blog for another day, today it's all about hot, young and very sexy, 28yr old.

Zeke popped into my head as I was looking at submission requirements for publishers to submit Angel's story too.

I happened to noticed a publisher (Angel's story didn't meet their criteria), was asking for submissions for a new line called Hot Flash. They were seeking short stories/novellas that centred on liaisons between older women and younger men. And there was Zeke, like a little light shining bright in my head. I must admit he was a bit pushy, wouldn't leave my thoughts and out of sheer desperation, in an attempt to simply get rid of him I started to write. Zeke and his love interest Jasmine made their way to the pages before me and, 5 days and almost 20 thousand words later I had written 'The Cougar Club'. I sought the opinion and quick editing  opinion of my two friends (Heps and Suzie, hi lovely ladies) who always help proof my work and then sent the submission off to the publisher. 

I wrote the story and did the submission, mainly for the experience. I had a friend tell me that Zeke was a mere distraction and I should get back to writing the follow up to 'Finding Angel' after all, Steve (the main character of the book) is more my age and he's a damn fine man to be involved with. I shouldn't be flirting and running off to play with a 28 yr old.... yeah right.

When the offer to publish and the contract arrived I was blown away. I sat at my computer and burst into tears, don't ask because I have no idea why. Crazy 45 year old woman hormones probably, or shock, who can tell. Poor Suzie thought someone had died when I rang her at the crack of dawn and gave her the good news. She ran around her house and did the happy tushie dance for me, as did my friend Heps because I admit it took me about 24 hours to get into dance mode... but I'm there now.

So, what of my flirtation with young men and have I finally returned to Steve?

I loved the experience with Zeke, it was a quick, flirty, lust filled affair, that's left me fanning myself in amazement. I get a warm shiver of excitement every time I think of him, but I have gone back to Steve. My heart currently belongs to him, he is more my age and he draws me in the most subtle of ways. He waited patiently for my return, he understood my need for distraction and now that I'm back with him we are having a lot of fun. He knows I'm loyal to him and will ensure his story comes to life in a timely manner. I have to confess though, Steve caught me looking at the door of The Cougar Club yesterday, he merely shook his head and laughed. He knows I have a wandering eye, he also understands that Justin, the clubs new assistant manager, needs my help to win the heart of Katie. 

I love you Steve and I'll be back soon.... Mwah.

Note: The Cougar Club, is being published by Secret Cravings Publishers with an expected release date of February 2012.

Thank you Secret Cravings, you are the best and here's a free plug.
I think everyone should waddle over to the Secret Cravings Bookstore and buy an ebook, of course it won't be my book just yet, but you can always revisit the site again in February. I'll be sure to remind you all.

In the meantime have a look and save the store in favourites. http://store.secretcravingspublishing.com/

My New Novella

I recently finished writing a short story (around 20k words) called The Cougar Club so I thought I'd do a little blog on it.

The Cougar Club

Zeke Munroe is 28 years old and the owner of a club called Rubens in Sydney Australia. Rubens is fast becoming the most popular night club in town because, in a city where gay venues rule supreme, Zeke's establishment caters to the more mature woman looking to have fun. Of course where mature women gather on mass, so do the men that love them.

Business is great but Zeke's personal life isn't, he needs that one special woman to share his successful life with. After moving into his new harbour side home Zeke becomes infatuated with the girl next door. He needs to introduce himself to the lovely Jasmine, 11 years his senior, so he can proceed to sweep her off her feet and make her his own. The only issue is they never appear to be in the same place at the same time. When Zeke sees Jasmine walk through the doors of his club he can't believe his luck. Jasmine has finally come to him, he doesn't have to admire her from a distance anymore, tonight he intends to get up close and personal... really personal.  

Jasmine is a 39 year old events organiser and, since her divorce, has been determined to experience all life has to offer.  When her friends Katie Swayne, a 38 year old Artist and Trudie Dean a 42 year old wife and mother, take her to Rubens she quickly realises she may be out of her depth. It doesn't take Jasmine long to discover why Rubens is sometimes referred to as 'club rub'. If one more handsome man rubs up against her while she's dancing , she might very well embarrass herself by melting into an orgasmic puddle in the middle of the dance floor. The men sure are friendly here... friendly and much younger than she usually likes them. 

This wasn't exactly the sort of experience Jasmine had in mind when she agreed to go out with her friends. What she doesn't realise is that Zeke intends to make Rubens an experience Jasmine will never forget and at the end of the night when she literally lands in Zeke's lap, he has every intention of keeping her there.

Do you want the truth or something beautiful?

Submissions have been driving me nuts recently. Yes I've been doing them, apparently an author needs to do submissions to publishing houses if she actually wants her book to make it into print or even ebook format.... who knew...lol. I send off one, then get a thanks but no thanks letter and I send off another one to someone else. Trying to find a publisher for a novel is really the most frustrating thing I've done in a long while. Yes it's a fact of life if you choose writing as a career, I understand that but I'm not really finding pleasure in the dance I am now engaged in.

It wasn't until I went and had a sulk in bed the other day, that I realised finding a publisher is a bit like dating. I know my mind is strange but bear with me... I'm about to ramble and then hopefully reach a poignant conclusion.

When you meet someone your interested in and get to go out on a date you are faced with a few choices, and I'm not talking about where to go. I'm talking personal choices. I find the choice is basically summed up by the Paloma Faith song "Do you want the truth or something beautiful?"

You put on the outfit you keep for special occasions because it makes you look better that anything else you own. It might be that tight skirt that shows how perfectly rounded your butt is, along with the top that you bought when you went out shopping and your girlfriend said 'that make your tits look great, you so need to buy it.' You add the lace top stockings and your highest platforms that you sometimes refer to as your 'come fuck me shoes'. Next you get out the paint and move onto your face. You add a little foundation just to make sure the uneven tone is covered, the mascara and eyeliner highlights your eyes making them more alluring, the lipstick makes your lips look fuller and more kissable. You straighten your hair, ensure it has a nice shine..... by the time you get out in public you look like a new woman..... and for what? To impress someone you know very little about.

So he sits through dinner and talks at you (about himself of course) he burps loudly, looks at the asses of the other women who walk past the table and when he's disinterested in what you're saying, he stares at your tits. I mean really, you knew you shouldn't have worn that push up bra and top that makes them look great, what else did you expect? You console yourself that at least he's not yawning. By the end of the night you may or may not have decided to have sex with him, depending on how cute he is.

The next day after you've made him breakfast he looks at you and sees who you really are. Your hair is now a wavy mess with a few dry ends, because you showered late last night after he decided to cum all over your tits while having sex. Of course he was sound sleep so had no idea you'd even left the bed. You have no makeup on, your tits aren't as pert because you aren't wearing a bra and the fluffy dressing gown hides your shapely everything.  Arh... finally the truth.

Then the dance really begins, he might call, he might not. He may ask to see more of you before he decides no you're not what he's looking for. If he's nice he'll probably let you know he doesn't want to hear from you again. If not, you just won't hear from him. So, after a designated timeframe, and its different for everyone, you move on. You go out, find someone else and do the dance all over again. Hopefully before you run out of options you meet the one person in the world who thinks that your truth is beautiful.

A dance with a publisher is much the same, minus the sex and need to shower of course. You show an interest in them by sending in the submission. You give them a part of yourself to look at, usually the first three chapters of your manuscript. You make that part of you look as beautiful as you can. You dress the story up in your synopsis, you have the hook line, you try to make it sound interesting within the guidelines they insist you work within. You give them the pitch and hope they respond favourably.

If the publisher reads on past the initial query and synopsis (i.e. they decided to spend the night.) In the cold light of day things might look different. There are one or two spelling and grammar mistakes (well sorry, after editing 60 million times by myself I'm cross eyed and might have missed a few things here and there.) The manuscript basically fits into the guidelines they have for publication but it doesn't have all of them (oops did I have a DP scene, when I shouldn't have?). The now wavy hair looked better straight.

If they like the beautiful packaging then you might hear from them again, but even then they could still decide that you're not what they are looking for. If they're nice they will probably let you know they don't want to hear from you again. If not you just won't hear anything. So, after a designated timeframe, and its different for everyone, you move on the the next publishing house. You start the dance and hope for a different outcome.

And, just as it is with dating, hopefully before you run out of options you find the publisher who thinks that your truth is beautiful.

Finding Angel Character Biographies Finished.

Well it has taken a little while but I have finally added the character bios to my blog site. After all, what else is there to do on a cold, rainy Sunday in Tahmoor.

There are four pages in total (one for each of the main characters). Just look at the page menu on the right hand side of this page and you should see the bios listed.

You can find out all the relevant information on Christian, Daniel, Steve and Angel. There is of course the basics of what each of them does and their physical appearance but I've also tried to give you an idea of the type of people they are. To help you get a better feel for the gang I've also included some personal quotes made by each of them in the book and a picture collage inspired by each character.  

Anyway I hope you enjoy the read, and don't forget to let me know what you think.

Looking for sexy men.

On Sunday night I started working on the bio's for the men from my novel Finding Angel. While I was putting the info together I decided you might like some pics to help you visualise my heroic hunks.

What a disastrous idea!

After many hours of research or depending on your view of things, perving at images on the net, I discovered an unknown truth about the male species. You see it is just as difficult to find fictional men (pictures of anonymous guys that resemble my hunks) as it is to find perfect real life ones. How disappointed was I? I always believed that you can find anything on the net, but Sunday night proved me wrong.

Yes, there are lots of pictures of sexy men on the net. Google them and up they pop. Loads of them, just not ones that I needed. Story of my life really, lots of men around, none that I'm interested in. Of course there were some criteria that limited my search.... the pics needed to be stock photos, royalty free and not cost a bomb if there was a fee attached. Then there was the physical characteristics of the men I was looking for. A blond wavy haired sex god with brown eyes, a dark haired dominant hunk with nearly black eyes and a long haired lean muscled guy with tats.

Easy I hear you say, what's she bitching about? 

Well here's what I found out. Sexy blond haired men don't exist if you want them to have long or shoulder length wavy hair. Straight hair, short hair... no problem. Sexy men with dark short hair are in abundance (which you would  think gave the character of Daniel a leading edge.... wrong). They are in abundance with light coloured eyes not dark brown, nearly black. Most blond men have blue eyes, men with really dark brown eyes that are nearly black must never allow people to take pictures of them. Men with long hair of any colour who have tattoos either look like drug addicts or Satan.

Some of the men who, in the thumbnail images, looked like they might have a sexy dominant appearance usually turned out to be an illusion. Once the image was enlarged they looked like they were trying to pass a rock. If they weren't passing a large item out their bum then they just looked like they'd slap you if you offended them. Finally, about 10pm, I found three pics that I thought would be perfect. Yay me. Unfortunately perfection costs and I refused to pay $200 AU for the right to use the pictures. Like an unpublished author has that kind of money to throw away.... NOT.  So I did the only thing I could think of that might be of use. I enlisted my best friend, the gorgeous Lady Macbeth, to help me (much to her husbands' amusement).

One long distance telephone call later and she was on the phone telling me it can't be that hard to find what I was looking for. After assuring her hubby she was not looking at porn, we set out again to find Christian, Daniel and Steve.  At about 1am, after searching men who were too thin; too young; too old; muscles too big (yes this is possible); men who looked mean, sappy, gay, violent, drug addled; wrong colour eyes; hair not long enough; hair not wavy enough or OMG how many times was he hit with the ugly stick.... I finally called it a night. Disappointed and frustrated I went to bed... (again, not a new feeling... it's the story of my life really).

Monday morning with a new determination I finally found images that, even though they aren't exactly what I had in mind, they'll do. Yes... I settled. Just like so many of us do in real life I found men that weren't exactly what I was looking for but they'll do. I guess it's true that beggers can't be chosers.... even when your looking for an imaginary man.

The Virgin Blog or How to Lose your Virginity at 45.

This is the monumental virgin blog... meaning my first on this site. For all those dyslexic people who are thinking I'm a virgin and I'm writing a blog all I can say is.... lol, yeah right, I'm 45 yrs young....you're too funny.

Anyway, I just spent the last few hours trying to figure out what I'm doing (a tech head I am not) and hopefully now I've got it all sorted out. Well it's all sorted until I hit my first problem where something doesn't work properly.

So why am I doing blog I hear you say? Well for a few reasons, some of them based on technical incompetence, others on the need for a presence on the net and simply because I think it could turn out to be a bit of fun. 

Safety tip number one: never say you'll do something before investigating if you can do it.

I've ended up with this blog by accident. Initially I set up a facebook page to promote my work as an author. I had a few people who liked the page suggest that I put character profiles and some chapters on it so they can read bits of the novel. Good idea I replied, I'll do it!  Then I couldn't figure out how to do that on the facebook page.... mmm, yes technical incompetence. I had to admit that I jumped before looking and I overestimated my ability again. So, after much thought and beating myself around the head, I decided to set up the blog and link the facebook page to the blog.... no applause needed.

So, for those that know me on facebook, I'm still there and all you have to do is click the link I provide and you'll find me here, blogging away in my PJ's while eating pringles :)

The second reason for setting up the blog was to have the ability to include the blog spot and the facebook page links in submissions for publishers. I can't understand why publishers require an online presence when you're unpublished but according to some submission guidelines they do.  So given that a web page is so out of my reach on both a technical and financial basis, here I am.... Blogging.

My final reason for blogging is a simple one..... I think it might be fun. I am looking forward to being able to hop on here in the early hours of the morning when I can't sleep (yes happens often) or I'm bored (happens sometimes) and dribbling incoherent shit all over the page just to amuse myself. Oh, and of course hopefully amuse you guys as well.  I will begin the character profiles from the first novel 'Finding Angel' within the next few days so stay tuned. I'll then post some of my favourite bits from the novel so you can all get titillated. Finally I'll do an update on the second book and keep you all posted as it progresses.

Well that's all for now, the pringles have run out and I need a cuppa.... ciao for now.