Monthly Archives: June 2011

Guest Blogger Marsha A. Moore

The Memories in my Collection of Sea Glass

When my father was still living, we spent many hours on vacations searching for and collecting sea glass. I still have our jar full of weathered “gems” sitting on my writing desk. The title of my latest release, Sea Glass and Sand Memories came quickly, when I had only a shred of the plot and setting in mind. It has a double meaning. To me, the title is all about the memories of those family trips, the wonderful times I had with my father who I miss a lot. The second meaning of the title comes with the ending. When my main character, young woman named Kate, returns to a familiar location in search of sea glass, she finds a surprise in store for her.

Sea glass is glass found on beaches of oceans, bays, rivers, and lakes that has been tumbled smooth by the action of waves, water, and sand. The results are pieces of broken glass, frosted and smooth like gems. In a rainbow of colors, the original source determines the color and texture. The most common are Kelly green, brown, and colorless, mostly from bottles used to sell beer, juices and soft drinks. Less common colors include jade and amber (from whiskey and medicine bottles), lime green, forest green, and soft blues (from soda bottles during the 1960s or earlier). The rarest colors are purple, cobalt/cornflower (Milk of Magnesia and Vick’s VapoRub bottles) and aqua (Ball Mason canning jars).

Dad and I aimed for any color other than clear with equal delight. Many great pieces of our collection came from the setting of my story, the western coastline of Lake Michigan, the dunes area. That area of shore has a relaxed, time-stands-still feeling I think made a good setting to harbor a mysterious ghost story. It’s a quaint artsy area, a quiet place where unusual happenings could pass unnoticed for years…until the right person stumbled in like Kate.

Blurb:

Looking forward to a relaxing week at a Lake Michigancoastal resort, Kate finds much more than the picturesque dunes she intended to paint. Adventures start when her requested room is switched beside an unusual couple – a witch and her lover, a ghost.

During her stay, the handsome ghost, Anson, tries to ensnare her into helping him escape the witch who killed him and then enslaved his spirit. That witch holds him captive on the property of his mother’s resort. Anson wins Kate’s heart and loyalty, but is that enough to set him free?

Warning: This story contains paranormal sex, pagan abuse of a ghost spirit, nightmares, and happy family memories.

Excerpt:

A loud knock on my door made us hush.

I held my breath.

I heard metal scraping, as though the door bolt slide open. A shadow moved across the rug in the main room.

My pulse rang in my ears.

Zandra stood in the bedroom doorway, her face ashen. “Lover, you and I have something to discuss. Leave her!” she commanded.

Anson gathered his clothes and left obediently. With only a chilling look cast at me, she turned and followed him.

What would she do to him? I dressed quickly and quietly, moving to a position under their sitting room window, listening to every noise. Soon, they argued.

“I own your soul,” Zandra pronounced.

“You possess me only by your black deeds.”

“You are my lover. What do you think you’re doing with that girl?”

“I will never love you.” His voice remained composed and assertive.

She declared, “Then, you will never love her.”

I rose up just enough to peer through a slat in the blind.

She stomped across the room, snatched an amber-colored bottle from a shelf, and yanked out the stopper. She turned toward Anson. Her face looked like a corpse, drawn and white. She proclaimed, “Captus anima!

My mouth dropped open as his form vaporized into smoke sucked in by the bottle. When all his matter entered the vessel, she quickly replaced the stopper.

Her lips curled. “You will never love again.” Then, she looked directly at me.

Horrified, I dropped down. My heart thumped in my chest. Had she seen me? I waited. Nothing happened. Then I heard her footsteps, but they sounded from farther in the apartment. I crept back to my room. I sat on the floor, completely still, listening. Still nothing. A faint glow of dawn shone through the window. What should I do?

 

Author Bio:

Marsha A. Moore is a writer of fantasy romance. The magic of art and nature spark life into her writing. Her creativity also spills into watercolor painting and drawing. After a move fromToledotoTampain 2008, she’s happily transforming into a Floridian, in love with the outdoors. Crazy about cycling, she usually passes the 1,000 mile mark yearly. She is learning kayaking and already addicted. She’s been a yoga enthusiast for over a decade and that spiritual quest helps her explore the mystical side of fantasy. She never has enough days spent at the beach, usually scribbling away at new stories with toes wiggling in the sand. Every day at the beach is magical!

Links to Marsha and her books:

Website       http://MarshaAMoore.com

Blog            http://MarshaAMoore.blogspot.com

Twitter        http://twitter.com/MarshaAMoore

Facebook    http://facebook.com/marshaamooreauthorpage

Goodreads  http://www.goodreads.com/marshaamoore

Sea Glass and Sand Memories purchase link

https://museituppublishing.com/bookstore2/index.php?page=shop.product_details&flypage=flypage.tpl&product_id=139&category_id=69&option=com_virtuemart&Itemid=1

 

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It’s Gettin’ Hot In Here

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Fantasy Man Friday

It’s that day again. Yes, I don’t even have to say it, do I? I want to though. I really, really do! I’m over at Ramblings From a Chaotic Mind today to talk about humor and…I can’t remember the other stuff, but I hope you’ll stop by to say ‘Hi!’

Anyway, this weekend is Father’s Day and I was trying to think of a way to incorporate hot men and fatherhood. It was hard for me to figure out how to do this without grossing myself out. When I think of Father’s Day, I picture my dad or stepfather. I don’t think about hotness.

So to get over the ick factor, I did a search for hot dads and found…a lot of them. Oh yes. Brad Pitt (sorry, he’s still one of my favorites because he’s so pretty!), David Beckham (rar!) and lots and lots of other celebrities who are proudly seen with their children.

Then I stumbled across this picture:

Yeah…he’s virile. Did you count them babies? Three of them! And he’s cute and he has a tattoo and a nice smile. He’s a regular guy and I think that’s sexiest of all, to be honest. I might ogle the hotties with ripped bods and perfect faces, but at the end of the day, I adore a regular man.

When I see a picture like this, it makes my biological clock kick me in the backside because yeah, babies. I frequently see-saw between wanting children and not wanting them, but there’s something about seeing a strong man cuddling a child that makes my secret maternal side go “aww, babies!” and my naughty side immediately start thinking about how babies are made (if you don’t know, you should probably buy some of my books).

So this post is for all of the gorgeous men out there who adore, cherish, and protect their children. Mamas, you go up to that man and plant a big kiss on him and tell him how sexy he is for being a great father.

Happy Father’s Day!

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Seven Things (Cajun Style)

So last week I was tagged by Stacy McKitrick with the Irresistably Sweet Blog Award, and yesterday, Ciara Knight tagged me on her blog as well for a Seven Things About Me thingy. I love getting awards because it’s proof people actually read my stuff here. I don’t always get to participate in the tags and all because I have a pretty strict blogging schedule (I’m a secret dictator of all things blogging and it has to be my way *slams fist on desk*)

This time is really no different, but I thought I could incorporate both awards with my regularly scheduled Cajun French lesson thingy. (I’m so eloquent, aren’t I? There are thingies all over this blog!)

I’m not tagging anyone, so you’re all safe!

So here we go, Seven Things About Me (Cajun Style):

1. I can’t eat crawfish. I’m allergic. It kills me. Not literally, but I love crawfish and it isn’t fair that I can’t eat it *sniff*

2. Although my last name is French, I’m not a certified Cajun. My family came to Louisiana straight from France. Like the Coneheads, “We are from France”, not Canada.

3. I do not own a pair of Cajun Reeboks. I’d love some though because you just never know when you’ll need them.

4. I have been in a pirogue (that’ll be next week’s word) and I hated it. The Pirogue Incident will go down in the family storybook under my name along with the Bead Up The Nose Incident and the Do You Want To See How Dogs Pee Incident otherwise known as How To Embarrass Your Mother in the Mall Incident.

5. I do not speak Cajun French but for a few words I’ve picked up through the years and the Cajun English phrases I grew up with. I have mistaken a full-blooded Cajun man for someone from Trinidad because I couldn’t understand him, so y’all aren’t alone in having problems with the accent.

6. I’ve never had, or cooked, blackened fish or chicken. We call that “burnt” where I’m from.

7. There was a point in my life when shoes were my enemy and the soles of my feet were thick enough to enable me to walk the length of a gravel road with no problem. Now, I cry if I step on concrete barefoot (slight exaggeration).

So those are my seven things (Cajun style). Do you have seven things you’d like to share with the class? It doesn’t have to be Cajun style 🙂

P.S. I had an amazing review for the third book in my Veil series, Lifestyles of the Fey and Dangerous. I’ve mentioned in another blog that reviews are like hugs from readers and this one is a very big hug. Thanks to Renee Rearden for the fantastic review!

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Remaking The Commodores

I apologize for not having a blog post yesterday. The internet was down the majority of the day and by the time it came back on, I’d lost all of my ideas for blogging. I’ll try to make up for that next week.

This time around for the Summer Remake series, we’re going a little further back than the 80’s. There were so many great bands from the 70’s who gave us music so great, they deserved to be remade. Today’s song is one of them.

There are some bands that have music so fresh, it lasts for decades. I think The Commodores is one of those bands. I mean, c’mon. Great lyrics, great rhythm…they were awesome! So is it any wonder another band came along to remake one of their songs? Probably not.

What might surprise you though, is to discover that one of the bands who covered The Commodores was a band known for their very unique style. Faith No More. I can’t remember where I first heard this particular cover, but I do recall that the minute I heard it I loved it. Hard. I mean, really. It’s that awesome. Honestly.

This is one of the songs that I can take either version and be completely happy about it. It could just be because I like the song and what it means, or I could be weird. I’ll go with the first option though.

Here’s the original:

And here’s Faith No More’s version:

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Making Friends at Nationals

Well here we are, two weeks out from Nationals and I’m glad to say I haven’t been obsessing over it as much as I did last year. Of course, once again, I’m lucky enough to be able to skip the pitching sessions. For those of you who are anxiously biting your nails, pulling out your hair, and waking up in the middle of the night screaming, “But I still have to tell you about the HEA!”, you have my deepest sympathies.

To me, the scariest part of a conference is that pitching session. I had two of them at my very first conference and I don’t think I slept very well for a week. I mumbled my pitch over and over in my head—probably in my sleep—until the people who were with me could’ve pitched my book for me. When it was time for the big session, I paced. I muttered to myself like a crazy woman. I attempted to meditate to no avail. But once in the room, as nervous as I was, I realized the editors I was pitching to were…well, people. I know, shocking, huh? Editors and agents are people, too and I’m sure some of them are rather shy and uncomfortable with the sessions as well, so go easy on them.

My first Nationals conference, I was scared to death I wouldn’t have anyone to talk to. *laughs hysterically* I mean, I may seem like a perfectly social person online, but in person, I’m the person who likes to fade into the background and observe. However, there’s a different feeling in the air at a Nationals conference. The people are you are writers as well and yes, they’re probably more comfortable hiding in the corner as well.

However, when you start to actually mingle with your fellow writers, you can run into some very surprising people. I’d already been chatting with many of the ladies with GCCRWA, so I figured I would be glued to their sides the entire time. After a few misses, I was finally able to hook up with Sayde Grace and Jillian Chantal. Through them, I met Rebecca Zanetti, Cynthia Eden, Leah Fields, and Brandi Hall. They were a great group to hang around with, but there were times when we had to go our separate ways.

I didn’t cry much because I discovered the smokers. Yes, I smoke. I know, I know, I don’t need to be reminded of the evils of the cancer sticks, but if it hadn’t been for those cancer sticks, I wouldn’t have met the amazing team that makes up Sable Grace. Or my Orlando Click, Silvia Arada. I wouldn’t have had an interesting conversation about football with Beverly Jenkins (who is just full of awesome). Or Elizabeth Sinclair, or dozens of other romance writers. Every single one of them was gracious, let me tell them my agent sob story and gave me advice.

You can’t put a price on that. Oh, and did I mention the people you meet in line getting food? I met a lovely young adult author from Houston and we ended up having lunch together. I’m horrible because I can’t remember her name right now, but that’s what Nationals is all about: making new friends, meeting old ones, and learning from those who have been in the business for a while.

For those of you who are attending Nationals for the first time and you’re nervous about not having anyone to talk to, don’t worry. There are so many people who are feeling the same way that you’re not really alone. And if you’re still worried, come find me. I will so talk your ear off!

Tomorrow I’ll talk about clothing and next week, I’ll get to the scheduling

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Fantasy Man Friday

Today started out well. I had real coffee as opposed to the fake stuff I had yesterday morning. That put me on the right track. I never really thought about it, but my morning cup of coffee is imperative if I have any hope of having a good day. Yay.

Then I’m checking my e-mail and a wonderful lady from Goodreads posted a review of my third Veil book, Lifestyles of the Fey and Dangerous. A five star rating and a great review before 6 a.m.? It was like a jolt of caffeine straight to my brain. I was awake, alert, and raring to go. Sort of.

And that’s when I realized that today is Friday. My favoritest day of the week. I heart Fridays so hard, it should be illegal. No, you won’t see me on the addiction show making love to a calendar with every Friday marked with hearts. Promise. However, I can’t say you won’t find me fogging up my monitor and drooling over my keyboard. Cause you know what today is. That’s right, class! It’s Fantasy Man Friday! Woot-woot!

Of course now I’m thinking about the song that’s been stuck in my head since Tuesday…pardon me while I sing a bit…

Them baggy sweat pants,
And the Reeboks with the strap,
She turned around and gave that big booty a slap,
She hit the floor,
Next thing you know,
Shorty got low, low, low, low…

Someone save me from the madness. Gah!

Okay, back to the regularly scheduled program. It’s about the menz with bulging biceps and lickable abs and thick, muscular thighs. Rar. What do you think of this guy?

I’m not sure what’s up with that costume, but it totally works for me. He actually puts me in mind of Daisy Harris’ Mercury of Mercury Rising. I can see this guy as the messenger god. And it’s such a shame because he’s not interested in women. I wonder if I could change his mind? Because wow…those thighs. Do you get the impression I have a thigh fetish? I swear I don’t. I like every part of a man’s body, but when I see muscular thighs, I just want to bite ’em. Gr-owl!

Hope y’all have a fantastic Friday and a great weekend. Next week I’ll start the countdown to Nationals, so if it’s your first trip, stay tuned! Now, excuse me while I drool some more.

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