Thursday, February 28, 2013

In which I'm painfully honest...and NEWS!!

We'll start with a virgrant about Gibb's smacks since I figure probably a few of you will either have experienced this, will experience this, or know what I mean because something similar happened to you.  Always start with the identifiable bit-Journalism 101. (That's a lie...start with a hook. But I digress.)

I flew to Texas. I packed kinda heavy. I sent my three kids off on a complicated schedule that involved transfers and nights here and there... they had multiple school days while I was gone and one of them had a cold.

I brought all that with me.

I also didn't bring my 'handler.'  My best friend, more often than not, offers both organizational services as well as social lubrication. In her words, I socialize like I swim. If she hops in the water with me, hangs out by my side, within a few minutes of bobbing around in Uncle Benny's pond, I've ripped off my life jacket and I'm laughing. If you just drop me in the pond, I forget I can swim, I panic, I flail, and I end up an emotional train wreck, arms wrapped around my knees on the dock refusing to get back in the water.

No one hopped in the water with me. No one organized me. I was required to be a big girl. And remember, I was carrying all that luggage. Were the kids okay? Did someone remember to get them after school or were they home alone? With a high fever. Which caused dizziness and hallucinations. And I have wrought iron chairs so I was sure one would fall over, knock their hallucination filled gourd on a chair and lie dying in a pool of blood with no one noticing until the next day when they didn't show up at school...

Hey, back off.  I'm a writer. I get paid for my overactive imagination, thank you very much.

So, the first night I stared at a ballroom full of people, teeth bared (arguably, they were smiling), with complete and utter terror.  Everyone was talking to someone.  Everyone except me.  (It felt, btw. There were literally at least a hundred people who would have gladly given me a chair and talked books, tv, sexy men...had I done more than smile vaguely and walk in a big circle while having my internal panic attack.  Please remember, it wasn't everyone being assmonkies, it was me freaking the hell out...I just couldn't see it AT THE TIME.)

Eventually, I took my terror and fled. On the way out the door, my publisher tried to start a conversation and introduce me to a fantastic lady.  (Again, more proof that people WOULD have talked to me.  Some were trying. I was weighed down with the baggage, though, and my blinders were quite firmly in place.) I smiled, met her, wasn't sure where to go with the conversation and continued my terrified exodus.

And then I got lost in the hotel.  Yeah, for real.  Had I not gotten terrified and lost, I wouldn't have gotten my ghost pic, but that's neither here nor there. 

It wasn't until the next day when a friend gave me a verbal Gibb's smack that I really looked at what I was doing.  Aside from not living in the moment, not enjoying the fact I was surrounded by people who love books as much as me, I was busy deciding I wasn't good enough to be there.

I know I'm not the only one to do that.  I had this whole mental ranking thing in place.  Oh, she has a contract with so-and-so?  Better, bigger author. Oh, she's with so-and-so? Equal. And there were very few equals in my mental estimation.  EVERYONE was better, bigger, belonged there...and I firmly decided I didn't belong.

It. Was. All. Me.

Whether it's clothes, purses, bank account balances, cars, book contracts, weight, hair, boob size...we women are HARD on ourselves. We're the very best at knocking ourselves down and the very last ones to agree we're deserving of any sort of accolade.  (I'm pretty sure I'm not alone there, am I?)

Once I let the bullshit go (coming down with the BlackPlagueOfDeath probably wasn't helping, was like the perfect storm of what can go wrong, rofl), I could look back and see smiling faces. I can remember talking and laughing with people. It was a really fun weekend.

When I wasn't mentally flogging the shit out of myself.

The moral of this virgrant? Thank goodness for friends with verbal Gibb's smacks and if you have this're not alone.  Do remember, though, which fortunatly I did, even when I was doing's all going on in your head. Don't go all Carrie on people because you're struggling with your self confidence. You'll regret that far more than you will ghost hunting in a haunted hotel by yourself.


Oh, and news!! I promised you news. I don't know if you've noticed but if you don't get enough of me rambling over here, I blog twice a month over at the Diamond Authors blog because I'm a Diamond Author!!

Also, I'll be participating in a March Madness blog hop with some really fantastic authors and there are some SERIOUSLY great prizes. Keep an eye out for details.

Until later, lovies, Happy Writing!!

Wednesday, February 27, 2013

Attack of the fog...Photoblog

Sick Author haz a Sick
Me and Heather Long
I've heard of concooties but I'm pretty sure this isn't that. I think it's a combo of my kids cooties (thank you, public school system, for your diligence in your quest to keep our immune systems occupied), change in climate (according to foursquare, I traveled more than a thousand miles each way), and normal post-con-tired, but I'm coughing, sweatin', snottin', and I'm chugging cough syrup like it's coffee.

Good times, right?

It's meant that I've been sort of quiet since there's codeine in my cough syrup and one doesn't like to look a little drunk online.  Kind of ruins one's rep and all that jazz.


I hopped on a plane last week and flew into Dallas/Fort Worth.  I kind of tried to backwards run into Dakota Cassidy.  Had I not contacted her at the last minute...I might have a picture of her, a signed Starbucks napkin or something else jazzy to show you.  I forgot she lived in Dallas.  *headsmack* I'm a terrible fangirl.  But, hey, I remember to read her books.  Maybe I'm a good fan after all.

On my way, someone cut a fiberoptic cable in the tower...adding a massive delay.  So by the time the fantastic Heather Long picked me up, I was so frazzled, I shoved my luggage into her car, snapped in, panted for a second and then, like a brontosaurus who just got his tail kicked, faced her and said something classy like, "ZOMG! You're really you!"
Riverwalk in Rivercenter Mall
Luckily, she'd talked to me for something like a year so my brand of weird was not terribly stunning to her.  I also got to meet Jeanie, Goddess of Shoes and Dynamic Personality of the Year.  This lady is not only stunningly beautiful, which you can see in her Marilyn Monroe-esque photos, she's just as NICE as she is pretty.  It's mind boggling.

So, then we road tripped to the Menger.  I went totally tourist, since the last time I was in Texas I saw three things: The San Antonio Airport, The Road to Lackland, Lackland Air Force Base.

I didn't shoot JR.
I did not see a single armadillo.  Apparently it was too cold for them.  Since I figured they'd be as common as squirrels, I was bummed.  I saw a TON of hawks.  TON.

They also advised me they're in a drought which was why the grass was dead.  I don't think if you watered what they were calling grass, it would turn into what we up north consider grass...but that's just a Yankee talkin.  I saw cactus, too, and everyone kept telling me it was 'cold.' *snicker*  Yeah, it wasn't cold.  There were a few days where it was chilly.  Cold?  No snot freezing in your nostrils weather for the Texans.  It kind of reminded me of Colorado, to be honest.
I remembered...
I got to be in a man-wich.  These beautiful guys are Ellora's Cave Cavemen.  Aside from being handsome fellas, they were both super nice.  *waves to the guys*

The Menger was haunted.  That was badass.  Just sayin.  And the conference was awesome.  If you go look at my facebook wall, my twitter feed, my instagram can see a TON of pics of authors, pubs, editors I fangirl squeed all over.  I met bloggers, reviewers, readers...and a really cool Irish family.

I got to go to South Fork. Saw the Alamo.  The Riverwalk.  Oh, and that guy?  He doesn't know you're looking at him.

Okay, I'm off to chug more hydromet syrup.

Later, lovies.

Happy Writing!
This guy doesn't know you're all looking at him.  Shhh...

Monday, February 18, 2013

Today, I'm giddy

I went out with a friend on Saturday night. Drank a little, relaxed and didn't worry about what people thought about me.

We were chatting and somehow age came up and I asked him, "Do you ever feel like you're faking it? Like everyone looks at you and sees a responsible adult but you just feel like you're pretending?"

He said he got it but it made me think that maybe we're all doing this in all the facets of our life. At work? Faking it. Acting like we know our answer is the right one even if we're just pretty sure it is.

Parenting? Faking it. Sometimes there are gray areas, choices we have to make and we're left just hoping we've made the right choice, the good call, not sure if we're messing the whole thing up irrevocably but pretending to know for sure what's right.

Writing? Today I got an email that put me literally in tears. And I've been on Amazon's best seller's list for over a week now. I write, tell my stories, hope people will like them but worry...

Like I think most of us do at some point or another...
Do I have the chops? Is my stuff good enough?

And then we get those little shining moments.  The really giddy ones that fill us up like a balloon on helium and for that one glittering all makes sense. We were right. We are the good grown-ups, parents...storytellers we hoped we were.

There are more of the 'faking it' moments than the unicorn dusted ones.

So, I leave you with Seether.

Happy Writing!

Saturday, February 16, 2013

New Release from Saranna DeWylde!

Too Bad About Your Girl
Saranna DeWylde
FF erotic Romance


Kerrigan Black is the hard drinking, hard partying and even harder working frontwoman for the riot grrrl band Sugar and Cyanide. She keeps her relationships simple—she doesn’t have them. But she has sex and a lot of it. For Kerrigan, it’s not about the orgasm; it’s about the power she wields over her partners. Kerrigan doesn’t do love. At least, she didn’t until her bandmate and best friend—the one woman she can never have.

Dia Miller is good at revenge, so when she finds her boyfriend in bed with another woman, she decides to return the favor. She asks Kerrigan to pretend she and Dia are lovers to punish him. The show goes a little too far and feels a little too good. Dia, ever the hedonist, can’t resist exploring new sensation.

Will fulfilling Kerrigan’s secret fantasy and satisfying Dia’s curiosity shatter the bond between them or give them something more, like Happily Ever After?

Wednesday, February 13, 2013

Valentine's Day can be any day...

Today, on my facebook, I told the story of my first real Valentine's Day. In Turn Me On, my recent MuseItUp release, I looked at how Valentine's Day can go wrong.

Two extremes but they both have a little something to do with the expectation.

Television, movies, books, our friends...all these trustworthy sources tell us that the day of hearts and flowers is special. If someone loves us, really loves us, they'll do something on Valentine's Day to make us feel special.

Everyone knows that.'s a big fat lie.

Valentine's Day this year is a Thursday.  It's nothing more than another Thursday in a long line of Thursdays stretching as far as we can remember into the past and into an unknown number of future Thursdays.

What puts all the weight of expectation on a Thursday this year is that we're trained, programmed, and taught Valentine's Day is the holiday of love, of devotion, of extravagant displays of affection.

So, I have another romantic story to share with you.  My ex-husband was not one for buying me things. In the entirety of our years together, he bought me one card and a couple bouquets of gas station flowers. The flowers were always attached quite obviously to arguments, not just-because-flowers. So...they meant less because of their intended peace-making skills.  If you've messed up and think you can buy off any argument with flowers...

Yeah, my emotions are worth more than gas station flowers that will fade as fast as you'd hoped my annoyance would.

Anyway, at some point in my next relationship, I told the guy I was seeing about the gas station flowers.  I don't remember now how it came up or why but, one day, an ordinary day, he brought me a rose.

The card was simple, just a small square of white cardboard.  On it, he'd written, "Happy Thursday. Love, me."

I asked him what the rose was for.  It wasn't for anything.  It was a Thursday rose, it's whole purpose to make me smile. I did smile and out of all the flowers I've gotten...I remember that silly rose. It still makes me smile and it's been dead for years.

Valentine's Day this year is on a Thursday.  Just another Thursday in a long line of Thursday's stretching into the past and future for an undetermined number of weeks.

Don't put all your expectations on a Thursday. You'll have really good Thursdays and really bad ones. Getting depressed because, on this particular Thursday, no one made your heart patter in your chest is just as weird as getting upset on any other Thursday because no one bought you a rose.

The ones that matter, that you'll remember, will make any old Thursday special. Even if the Thursday in question isn't a Hallmark holiday.

And, well, remember the moments that mattered...not the ones that make you want to cry.

I hope your Thursday is as wonderful as you are, readers.

Happy Writing!

Friday, February 8, 2013

New Release in the Always a Marine Series!!

A Marine and a Gentleman
NEW in the Always A Marine Series
By Heather Long
Contemporary mm erotic military romance

Lieutenant Brenden Fitzpatrick is a dedicated Marine, loyal son, and devoted uncle, but he's lonely. When he went Marine, the rule was don't ask, don't tell. His brothers-in-arms pretty much didn't ask and didn't care. Watching so many friends settle into long-term relationships highlighted the absence of someone to come home to in his life. When his unit encourages him to give the 1Night Stand service a try, he asks for the impossible—a night with the one man he almost gave up the Marines for in the first place. A man he called best friend but let time and distance carry away.

Liam Gardiner grew up on the same Boston block as his best friend, Brenden. Unlike Brenden, Liam always accepted that he was gay—a fact he didn't mind flaunting to all the bullies and naysayers in school. It got his ass kicked more than once, but Brenden always had his back, rescuing him time and time again, until the day Brenden left for the Marines. He missed his buddy—the crush he never confessed, lest it cost him the precious friendship—so when Madame Eve's invitation to meet Brenden arrived, Liam faces uncertainty for the first time.

Life made them best friends, can Madame Eve help them become so much more?

Congrats on your book birthday, Heather!
Grab your copy today!

Amazon | Decadent | Bookstrand | All Romance Ebooks | Barnes and Noble

Wednesday, February 6, 2013

Turn Me On released and blog hop this weekend...

Turn Me On is available now. This is my smexy little ff erotic romance for Valentine's Day (which a lot of you have found over at ARe already--Thank you!!)

Valentine's Day sucks.

When Kay gets a call to meet a former lover for Valentine's Day, she learns that not only is the ex getting married but she expects Kay to take part in the blessed event.

Kay doesn't want chocolates.

The sexy sister of the groom-to-be is determined to help Kay get over the bride.

Turn Me On...

Will Cammie help Kay learn that passion is better when it's not hidden? Or will Kay give up the one woman who can bring her body-and her broken heart-back to life?
Night Owl Reviews reviewed it, gave it five stars and a top pick award.
"I immediately adored this book...Once again, I am extremely pleased with Ms. Nelson’s writing. I can’t wait to read more from one of my new favorite romance authors." You can read the whole review here.
Also, I will be participating in a blog hop this weekend.  Prizes, giveaways, fun to be had...
Happy Writing!

Monday, February 4, 2013

An interview with Dr. Steve...

My pal, Heather Geoffries, is celebrating her debut release, Nordic Prince with Carnal Passions!!

It’s a short and sexy MM erotic romance and the blurb is:

When Doctor Steven Mills is dragged onto The Nordic Prince for fun in the sun by his sister, Amanda, he is certain he will be miserable. Until he meets Erik.

Erik is fun, exciting and just what the doctor ordered. Some drinks and dancing with him are more enticing to Steven than any date he’s gone on with women. Before long, the two escape the busy dance floor for the quiet—and private—spa where Eric works on Steven’s body with very skilled hands. Steven is overcome with an onslaught of new emotions and sensations and has the best sexual experience of his life.

Now Steven must wrestle with new feelings and desires and make a decision that could change his life forever.
Grab your copy today!
Today, Heather’s main character, Doctor Steven Mills, joins us for a character interview.  Welcome, Dr. Steve!

Hello, Mz. Nelson. Thank you very much for having me today. It’s an honor. I have to admit—it’s a little intimidating speaking with a best-selling author. *crooked smile*

I always feel like I can learn a lot about a person from the contents of their fridge…what’s on your shelves? *rummages around*

*chuckles* Well…*smooths hair* there are a variety of foods at your disposal. I believe in eating healthy, therefore the fruits, veggies and lowfat milk are mine. Erik, although he generally eats healthy, enjoys junk, too. He has a bit of an addiction to those truffles on the third shelf.  Overall it looks pretty healthy—just don’t look in the cupboards! *gives a mischievous and playful look at author*

Hmm, interesting. So, you’re not into vacations? I saw you had to be dragged on a cruise which, uh, would NEVER happen to me.  What’s your problem with downtime?

 I’ve never found them enjoyable. Most people dance, sing and try to find love, which I used to find absurd. Love doesn’t come in a magic bottle. It seemed smarter to simply work and make money. In retrospect, perhaps people have the right idea. I’m very glad, now, that I went on the Nordic Prince.

So, I see you had drinks at the bar…what did you order? Me, I’m a Smirnoff Triple Black kinda gal.  Not quite beer, not quite fruity concoction. 

I was enjoying Glenlivit, which is a smooth Scotch Malt Whiskey. It has a slight fruity flavor but also leaves a nice trail of heat not only down into your stomach but also spreads nicely through the body. I occasionally like a wine or champagne, but that night I needed something with a little more kick.

So, you met a masseuse… I could use a massage.  What are the chances of Erik rubbing me in all the right places?

*coughs* *blushes* Um—well. If you would like a massage he is an excellent masseuse. I could even get him to give you a discount. The hard part is getting him to find time when he’s not on the Nordic Prince but I’ll be sure to get you in as a thank you.

As too, um, any other services, I’m afraid that he and I are quite in love. *blushes*

Have you met my sister, Amanda? She enjoys—interactions with women who have fun hair and can stimulate her—sense of humor. *flashes teeth*

Damn. Well, I really look forward to reading your book.  Can you give us an excerpt?

Okay, I will share how I met such a wonderful man but it is a bit difficult to tell without getting a bit embarrassed. I was not at my best, I’m ashamed to say but Erik was spectacular. I think you’ll like him.

Here’s one of the better moments. *loosens tie and coughs* And thank you so much for sharing with me...

Excerpt: Steven looked on with curiosity.  “What are you…?”

With two long strides Erik was by his side, his lips closed over Steve’s, momentarily silencing any further words. 

Erik probed Steve’s lips with his warm tongue.  Lust kindled earlier exploded into an inferno of complete hunger, which threatened to consume his impulse to resist. 

Lightly touching Steve’s face, Erik gazed at him.  “I have wanted to do that all night.”

Steve’s will reasserted itself once more. He backed away a step.  Feeling very confused, he tried to articulate the war that raged within his heart.  “I can’t.  You’re …It isn’t…” 

Like a sensual panther, Erik stalked toward Steve’s retreating form, backing him against a wall.  Growling with an animalistic lust, “I want you.”  Erik’s mouth descended on Steve’s neck, licking and nipping, causing a pure desire, which had him moaning once again. 

Surrendering, Steve’s hands wrapped around Erik pulling him closer of their own accord

Thanks so much for joining us today, Dr. Steve and of course Heather!

It was absolutely my pleasure.

Friday, February 1, 2013

Chasing a dream...

You must've been a beautiful baby...
What is your dream?

Mine was to be a writer.  There were a lot of factors in that becoming my dream.  I've always written, finishing my first book--terrible book--at age nine and long daydreaming.  I fanfic'd Robin McKinley's world of Damar through high school and my idea of a fun Friday night when I was a teen?  Me and a friend had this notebook in which we started a story...each writing a chapter and then swapped notebooks and the other one picked up the story (bee-tee-dubs? This is an excellent learning tool.  Nothing will make your brain stretch more as a writer than trying to figure out where to go with a story that just took a dramatic veer away from where you planned...).
My apologies, kid from ET, for stealing your hair.

In later years of high school, I wrote a zine.  All the cool kids (my idea of cool kids were Denah and Ben and Carrie) were doing it...I later got in a heap of trouble for it but, again, stretching my writerly wings.  Poetry, I learned in this experiment, wasn't how I wanted to express myself.
Yeah for Etch-a-Sketch!

Still, I'm nothing if not a blockhead.  Even though books/writing/words were how I spent my fun time, I saw the Challenger explode one day when I was home finger painting.  If the very brave, very documented in my Scholastic readers, teacher was willing to reach for the stars, so would I.

Besides, no one REALLY became a writer.  It was like my artistic abilities...something that would never amount to much.

So, I entered the Air Force for about a minute and a half.  This was after my stint at Space Academy, so I was sure my career lay in the hands of Aerospace Engineering...I was going up.  I was going to touch the stars...

Or I would come home in a heap of failure, get excited to see my fiance and end up pregnant with our first child. You know, one of those was sure to happen.
Permtastic, baby.

My daughter became the center of my world.  I worked sometimes three jobs to keep things going and when my sons came along...I was sure of two things with absolute certainty:

1. These kids were my world.  I would do crazy shit to protect them.  I would give up everything without the slightest hesitation for them.  They meant everything.  No sacrifice would ever be too great to make for them.

High school hotness
2. I would be single for the remainder of my days because who in their right minds would want a relationship with a single mother of THREE kids, all of whom hung out on the spectrum.

It turns out, looking back, that nothing in life should ever be looked at with absolute certainty.

I've since learned these two things:

1. Children grow up.  They don't need you as constantly as they age, although they may never stop needing you.  You have to find your identity or risk falling apart when they leave.

2. I was single because I was terrified of loving someone and not being as focused on my kids.

This kid is gonna grow up and write smut.
Hard lessons.  Two strokes helped me realize that if I didn't chase my dreams, no one was going to do it for me.  There was a distinct chance I would raise my children, die, and leave my legacy as a parent but nothing as an individual.

Scary.  So, well, what the hell.  I was writing, as usual, and people liked the stories I was telling.  They believed in me (surprisingly, they believed in my art, too.  All the jobs I thought impossible were much more possible than the one I thought logical) until I started to wonder if I should, too.

I sent out my first manuscript.  My friend sent it out, too.  I collected a box of lovely rejections.  I got addicted to the thrill of it...Wow.  Something I wrote is sitting on a desk in NYC.  Sure, it might get rejected but how cool to have made it to NYC.  To be something someone far more classy than I read over coffee?
My Princess

Exhilarating even if I got rejected.

And then one day...someone didn't reject me.

My first book got published.  Then my second...

And now I don't get as many rejections.

They're still the center of my world...
The point of this summary of my life is...what do you want?  What do you want so bad, feel so good doing, that it is the last thing you think of when you close your eyes and the thing that makes you pop out of bed in the morning? Is it not what you thought?

If it's not, then why aren't you chasing THAT dream? Is it because it's not logical?

Why are you letting someone else tell you what is logical and what is not?

Go after your dreams.  I did.  And now I'm sitting here, home with my kids, doing what I love and I even get paid for it most of the time.

Happy Writing!!