Plot Monkeys

The winner of this weeks adorable, delectable frog prince chocolates is #8, Heather Harper! Heather, send me your snail mail addy at julie@julieleto.com so I can have Red Envelope ship out those chocolates right away! Also, let me know which book you’d like.

Here’s a funny, courtesy of Jane Porter’s website. She wrote this very appropriate book called THE FROG PRINCE among many, many others!

Unlike my other plotmonkeys, I have THREE “first” calls, LOL. Because it wasn’t until that third call that I knew I’d finally found a writing home.

I have to state right up front that I didn’t grow up wanting to be a writer. In fact, I barely passed English in high school and I hated writing essays. If someone would have told me back then that I’d be a published author of over 40+ books, I would have laughed and thought they were crazy!

So, what changed my mind? Well, for me, becoming a writer was a matter of circumstance. At the age of twenty-one I married my husband, Don, and at that time he was working the swing shift, from four in the afternoon until one in the morning. Yeah, it was a sucky shift, considering we were just married, but he didn’t have a choice at the time. And without him being home at night, it left me alone with a whole lot of free time on my hands.

It was that situation, and my own job at the time, that led to my writing. I was working for a construction company, and it was a one girl office – and that was me. I took care of everything, and most days I was done with my work before five in the afternoon. But I had to stay at the office until five to answer the phones and schedule the guys for the next day’s job. So, during those times when I had nothing to do, I started reading romances novels. Back then, it was Catherine Coulter, Judith McNaught, Johanna Lindsay, and Lavyrle Spencer who ruled the world of romance. I also read the Bantam series line, Loveswepts (now defunct). Before long, between having time at my day job, and all my free time at night, I was reading a book a day. And for a just married couple with a new mortgage, that was quite an expense. One day my husband made the comment that since I was reading so many romances, I ought to try writing one.

I’m sure he was joking (or very nicely trying to tell me to stop buying so many books!), but he planted the seed and stories started forming in my mind. When I first began, I was writing those stories down in a large spiral notebook, and I eventually bought myself a really nice electric typewriter with correctable ribbon (I can’t even imagine writing a book that way now, LOL!). I wrote for five years, and during this time I joined Romance Writers of America and joined a romance writers critique group to learn all about conflict, plot, and point of view. I also entered contests to get feedback on my stories, too (and not all those comments were kind, either!). Needless to say, I have many books that are just awful and will never see the light of day. But, it was a learning process, and I never gave up.

Five years later, Harlequin was running a contest and wanted to published ten one hundred page novellas – each as an individual book. It was a test run for them, to see if smaller books like these would sell. I had a story, a “best friends to lovers” theme, and I sent it in . . . and got the call from Harlequin editor Paula Eykelhoff on July 27, 1992. I remember the day vividly - - I was overdue with my second daughter, and when Paula asked me to come up with a pseudonym (back then, Harlequin insisted on using a pen name), I truly had no idea what name to pick. My husband and I mulled over ideas, and we knew we wanted to use the name of our first daughter, Danielle . . . but what to use as a last name? We knew if we were having a girl, we were going to name her Kelly (I didn’t know what I was having), and I went with my gut instinct and used that name and became “Danielle Kelly”. A week later my second daughter, Kellie, was born, and THE FAMILY MAN was published as a novelette in December of 1993.

I really thought after selling the first book it would be so easy to sell another one. WRONG. I wrote for another two and a half years and submitted more stories to Harlequin, all of which were rejected. Including an “angel” story I’d written. I then sent that rejected story to Leisure Lovespell for a paranormal line specifically for angels that they were starting. They bought the book, and HEAVEN’S GIFT was published in October of 1995. Unfortunately, I only had that one paranormal story that I’d written, so I was right back to writing for Harlequin, which is where I wanted to be.

I found that I really enjoyed writing the hotter, sexier stories, and decided to target Temptation as the line I wanted to write for. Unfortunately, another two years passed of collecting rejections (sigh) before I got what I consider my last first call. This one came in December of 1996, and it was Brenda Chin from Harlequin Temptation. She wanted to buy the story I’d submitted to her, and a character’s follow up story! Needless to say, I was thrilled – despite the fact that she wanted me to rewrite the 2nd half of the story! Regardless, she trusted me to write those extensive revisions, and offered me a two book contract based on what she’d read. The first book, PRIVATE PLEASURES, was published in April 1998, followed by PRIVATE FANTASIES in May 1998. Both books were Temptation Blazes.

From there, I’ve sold pretty consistently, thanks to Brenda Chin. She’s a fabulous editor who truly believes in the authors she buys. All four of us Plotmonkeys have been so fortunate to have her as an editor!

So, even though my journey was a long one, it was well worth. If you want to become a writer, make persistence and patience your best friends, LOL. Keep at it. Keeping honing your craft. Keep writing and submitting new stories, even in the face of rejections. Because if you stop writing, you’ll never know if that next book you would have written would have been “the one” to sell and get you published. That was my mantra/motto, and what kept me sane in all those years I was struggling to sell a book.

Of course…chocolate!

You don’t need a sweetheart to enjoy these…

These adorable Chocolate Frog Princes (one wears a gold leaf crown!) is from my favorite online store–Red Envelope. I’ll have it shipped directly, so continental US only.

You know the drill…post a hearty hello in the comments…winner chosen on Sunday!

I’ll throw in a back list book of your choice…if I have the one you want. I’ve put a bunch of books in storage and don’t have a few readily available.

Here’s to hoping if your Valentine is a frog and not a prince, at least he’s made of chocolate!

PS. There are two entries from last week when my contest accidentally went up instead of Carly’s. So those entries are still up!

I’m at the end of writing a book and really pushing to get it done, so I thought I’d share something short and funny today. Going off the title of this post, you all were probably expecting before and after photos of ME. When I started my diet this past summer, I did promise to post before and after photos, and while I’m holding strong at having lost 45 pounds, I still have about 25 more to go. Unfortunately, the month of December was my downfall — strict dieting went by the wayside, and I haven’t gotten back on track again . . . yet. That’s going to happen after this book is done. BUT, I have managed to keep the weight OFF, so that’s a plus!

So, what is today’s before and after pictures all about? Well, I recently took our 10 year old cat Portia for a fur-cut. She’s a Persian mix, and because she has long hair it gets matted very easily. And she sheds like crazy, which is a pain because she’s strictly an indoor cat. Because she does shed so badly, my kids try not to pet her because it results in HUGE furballs that end up everywhere, LOL! Oh, and to make matters worse, Portia is very “chunky” (aka FAT), and being so big it’s hard for her to clean all that fur . . . and other private areas that have a whole lot of fur. So, hence the fur-cut.

As you’ll see by the “before” photo, she’s a very grumpy cat. She always seems to be frowning, and I’m certain I know why . . . the OTHER cat and dog (Zoey and Sandie) that rule our house. You see, Portia was an only cat until about 5 years ago when we found both Sandie and Zoey as strays (a kitten and a puppy) and took them in and gave them a home. With two new animals in the house, Portia was NOT happy about that. Oh, Zoey and Sandie have really tried to make nice with Portia, but she’s not having any of it. She still snarls and growls at Sandie when she happens to walk by Portia, and Zoey will get a few paw-swats if she gets too close. As a result, Sandie and Zoey have bonded over the years and are playful and very close. Oh, and when I’m not looking, they like to TERRORIZE Portia (teasing her, chasing her, etc.).

Anyway, I digress. I took Portia in to the groomers and asked for a “lion cut”, and he shaved her down everywhere, except her tail and head. Portia was completely pissed off about that . . . until she realized that once she came back home (and we all had a good laugh about her new look!) everyone was petting her, and loving on her, and she LIKED it. Without all that fur her pelt now feels like velvet, and we all love how she feels — so petting her is a joy.

Sandie, and especially Zoey, were surprised at Portia’s new look (they had to sniff her and make sure it was really HER), and then afterward I would have sworn that THEY were laughing at her. Luckily for Zoey she’s a short hair, or she’d be getting shaved down, too.

So, does anyone else out there have a long haired cat that they shave, too? Or am I the only one who humiliates my cat this way?

You know, I’m not real big on Valentine’s Day. I’m not down on it, but the pressure to be romantic on one day of the year simply doesn’t thrill me. I know I told you guys about how my dad sends me cards and my daughter makes me presents and my husband sends flowers…all wonderful, but I could take any of these things on any day of the week and be happy.

Today, I just want to ruminate on people and things I love, but that I might not send a card to because, well, I’m just not that into the day.

I know I’ll leave stuff out. But here goes…

I :love2: the plotmonkeys. You all know why!

I :love2: our readers…especially those who hang out here and play a few minutes every day in our jungle. I know how busy the day is, so the fact that you come and comment (or just come and read!) really means a lot.

I :love2: my family. From my parents to my brothers and their wives and children to especially my husband and daughter. To my mother in law, her children and their wives and husband, nieces and nephews (and grand nieces and nephews) that I don’t get to see nearly enough.

I :love2: my friends!

I :love2: all the family pets! At our house, Lady and Button. At my brother’s various houses, Lieba and Cannon and Buddy (especially Buddy!) and Schmoo Bear. My neighbor’s dogs, Leia and Angel and even Kelly, the yappy little poodle. And Pal! Big fuzzy Pal. :doggie:

I :love2: my doctors and the staff at St. Joseph’s Emergency Room for making my fourteen hour stay bearable yesterday. Especially to Kat, the patient advocate, who might stop by the blog today! (I’m fine, btw…it’s sad when the only way to get diagnostic tests done quickly in this country is to send a patient to an ER)

I :love2: food! From pasta to pizza to gourmet fare…all the stuff I cannot eat right now. I’m hating chicken broth and bland potatoes, to say the least. Apparently, my body does not react well to dyes.

I :love2: Heroes. Awesome episode this week.

I :love2: books! I read a bunch while trapped on a gurney yesterday, so yeah for books!

I :love2: hospitals who have free wireless internet, even if I didn’t realize it until hour 11 of my 13 hour stay.

I :love2: the internet. And google! I love me some google…especially when the daughter has been assigned yet another science project that requires pictures (this time of animal parents and their offspring.)

I :love2: cell phones.

I :love2: being able to drive, something I couldn’t do today, but will definitely do tomorrow.

I :love2: Steak and Shake. Okay, I already talked about food, but this place deserves a notation all its own.

I :love2: my 3lb laptop.

I :love2: pajamas.

I :love2: chocolate!

I :love2: the ocean. Not sailing on it, but looking at it. I love sunsets on the ocean. Oh, what the heck, I :love2: sunsets!

I :love2: my neighbors, who make it feels like we’re still living in the 50s with our kids outside playing all the time and borrowing butter for Valentine’s cookies (I was only the butter supplier) and chatting by the mailbox. Who says this life doesn’t exist any more?

I :love2: my church. ‘Nuf said.

I :love2: my writer’s groups, the Tampa Area Romance Authors, as well as Novelist’s Inc.

I :love2: my sucias, whom I miss very much. (Email group…had to unsub while I dealt with life, alas.)

I :love2: life.

So, what or whom do you love on this special day of love?

I bet from reading this blog, you all think the only friends we have are each other. I admit with the way we are connected it often feels that way … but writing and long distance aside, I do have an every day life that involves carpools, and lunches, and shopping and nonplotmonkey FRIENDS.

This is a story about my local buddies. Last Wednesday - Thursday we took an overnight trip to Mohegan Sun (casino in Connecticut). We didn’t go to gamble, we went to get away for our good friend Julie’s birthday. There were 14 of us who went in different cars. Julie, the birthday girl, Abby, Anna, Sharon, Laurie, Sheryl, old friends of Julie’s, Ilissa, Patty, Laurie (yes, two Laurie’s), Jeanne, Janice and me. I roomed with Anna (my daughter and her daughter are good friends too- not everyone is pictured here … ran short on room). Not all of us had ever spent all that much time together as a group before because life is so hectic, so it was nice to have time. I could have gotten my own room but I like having company, someone to talk to and this worked out great. Laurie and Anna picked me up at 10 AM Wednesday and we hit no traffic, so an hour and a half in the car, one phone call from the school nurse (not my kid, shockingly) and we arrived. We went to check in only to find out that the person who made the reservations for all of us needed to be there in order for us to get our rooms. Since some of the group stopped at outlets on the way, they hadn’t arrived yet.

We decided to eat since we had 3 PM spa treatments. So we had lunch which was fun and by then everyone else had arrived, so we met up with them at check in. Unfortunately our rooms weren’t ready so we went to the spa with our coats and clothes. We’d booked massages. Now here’s the interesting part. I’d had a massage many times before. This was a little different - it was a 50 minute Swedish Massage - with an a la carte menu - head and neck and feet - were each separate charges. I splurged on both. AWESOME. The head included oil for my dry hair and scalp. Yummy! Afterwards, we sat in the sauna and then put our feet in the whirlpool. Then we had to pull our clothes back on over our greasy bodies (yes we could have showered there but didn’t because we still had to walk through the lobby to get our rooms). We finally got settled. We showered and my friend, Ilissa, who used to be my neighbor until she bailed on me and moved a mile away came by to catch up and we talked for an hour. We went to Patty and Jeanne’s room for cocktails before dinner. We gave the birthday girl some fun gifts. While talking, we realized there was a foul odor coming from the hallway.

Of course I didn’t smell it, but eventually on the way down for dinner, I did. I’m a little slow. We thought it was gas (no, the hotel management said, the fire dept. was there and checking) and later thought it was sulfur, then sewage (eew!). A few in our group packed their bags and brought them downstairs, refusing to sleep there. I wasn’t at that point yet, but in my mind, if the odor, which was traveling from floor to floor, continued, I’d rather go home late than move rooms or check into another hotel. Dinner was delicious but at some point we decided we had to go up and pack in case it determined that the odor was toxic and the fire dept prevented us from going back up there at all. Meanwhile, someone (I can’t remember who) went and got us room changes to low floors without odors - turns out that when they cleaned a bathtub it didn’t drain and w/all the cleaning stuff it backed up. How that could stink up floors and floors of a hotel, I will never know. Anyway, one of our intrepid group got us upgraded to suites with money off, but I didn’t want to share a king size bed no matter how much I liked my friend Anna! So I got us a regular room with two doubles and we crashed with our clothes on, waiting for luggage to be brought up. Eventually we got some sleep in our pj’s.

I was awakened by my vibrating cell phone the next morning by my daughter. Anna had already heard from hers - photo and all - “how do you like my hair, mom?” I forced myself out of bed to work out - treadmill - and then we had a big group breakfast. It was a this point that I got a call that my oldest daughter was sick and my poor husband, who stayed home to get the girls off to school and had just gotten to work (an hour from home) at 9 AM, had to go pick her up around 10. Welcome to my life, I told him. He didn’t laugh. Can’t say I blame him. I called the doctor and got her an appointment which he took her to (virus and she ended up home for two days plus the weekend).

Still, we laughed and learned a lot about each other (and others) and had a blast. It was great to get away for awhile.
All and all, a memorable experience which our wonderful friend Abby wrote about in a poem:

Julie’s finally 40, and to mark this special date,
14 of us head to Mohegan Sun, to help her celebrate.

Julie brings her nambe and happy hour fare,
but oh we are so nauseous, there’s sewage in the air!

Everyone complains, how can this possibly be?
Please send over a fireman, to explain this tragedy.

We leave dinner to pack, in case we have to leave,
Should we stay to spend the night? Will we be able to breath?

And so to shut us up, we each get a luxury suite,
but never miss a meal, we return to drink and eat.

After all it’s Julie’s birthday, we’re here for a good time,
Never waste steak and fries and perfectly good wine.

We thank our lucky stars, that we woke for the new day,
because who would want to miss a breakfast buffet?

Over large plates of food, we make a lot of noise,
about things we should not be discussing, and complicated sex toys.

BUT, management beware, Patti isnt very happy,
You inconvenienced us all, and your discount is really crappy.

An so, same time next year, we will return to celebrate,
Julie’s 41st, at a very discounted rate.
(Thank you, Abby!)

For writers, who spend much of the day alone in the house working, it’s important to remember how important our friends are! Who has gone away with friends for some me time and lived to tell about it? (Not everyone is lucky enough to smell foul odors …

If you stopped by on Saturday, you already heard me tell the story about how I sold my first book–NIGHT WHISPERS–and how important that “girl in the red bikini” scene was to the sale. So, since the book has just been re-released, and since I started writing it exactly 10 years ago this month, I thought you might like to see the scene for yourself. (As you can probably tell, I had NO clue about the whole “Point of view” thing! But my editor didn’t seem to mind…thank God!)

Hope you enjoy!

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Now that he was home, all Mitch wanted was quiet, solitude and privacy. He was ready to think, ready to absorb what he’d learned, and begin putting his thoughts on paper for the college textbook he was under contract to produce.

Fat chance, he thought. Solitude and quiet were two words he had never yet been able to associate with Kelsey Logan, the demon-child. He wondered how Baltimore had survived her presence.

Feeling a splash of water on his cheek, Mitch noticed he was standing directly in the path of a sprinkler. He grimaced, squared his shoulders and went to find Kelsey.

Mitch tiptoed along the stone walk and rounded a newly planted evergreen. Smothering a curse when he saw a little ceramic chipmunk, he restrained an impulse to kick it over the fence. Then he looked to the far corner of the yard and found her.

She obviously had been working. The pruning shears lay near some bushes, and a rake lay sprawled, spines up, across the lawn, just waiting for a Three Stooges-like accident to occur. Kelsey lay in a lounge chair with her back to him and he walked softly, being extremely careful to avoid potential mishaps with gardening tools. His shoes sank into the soft soil next to a leaking watering can. Glancing ruefully at the dirty Italian leather, he figured that was just one more thing to thank Kelsey for.

She didn’t notice him. He was a step or two behind her, far enough that he cast no shadow over her face to warn her of his presence.

Then he stopped dead in his tracks. This curvaceous, voluptuous even, woman in the lounge chair could not be Kelsey! He’d made a mistake. Kelsey was the skinny, obnoxious, freckle-faced younger sister of his best friend. So he hadn’t seen her in several years. She couldn’t have changed this much, could she?

She wore a devil-red bikini, which was damp with the sweat of her exertions and clung to her skin. Her legs were slightly bent and raised, a golden honey color, slender and about a mile long. His gaze slid up, taking in the gently flared hips and small waist, then on to the trim midriff and the deep vee of cleavage revealed by the low-cut bathing suit, and up to the top of her sun-streaked hair.

He stared as she reached a slim arm over the side of the chair and felt around until her hand brushed against her cool water glass. She caressed the side of it, her fingers becoming damp and slick with the condensation, and she smoothed a little of the water over her fingertips. Then she reached into the glass to fish out a piece of ice, shook it gently and brought it toward her chest.

He swallowed hard. The woman–Kelsey?–moved the ice just above her flesh, and Mitch watched each drop of water as it fell in a trail along her collarbone. When she finally lowered the ice to the hollow of her throat, he released the breath he’d been holding. Then he slowly drew in another as she moved the cube down her skin, allowing it to melt on her chest. He heard her small moan of contentment at the cool relief and very nearly echoed it. The ice disappeared quickly until her fingers were moving over her neck and shoulders with nothing but the tiniest sliver, and then just a few drops of water. Her hand remained motionless for a few moments, lightly resting on her throat, and he thought she’d perhaps fallen asleep. He considered backing up and retreating into the house, but she shifted slightly, and he remained still.

No. No, this couldn’t be Kelsey.

The last time he’d seen her had been at her high school graduation, seven years ago, back home in Virginia. She’d looked skinny and gawky and uncomfortable in the flowery dress her mother had made her wear under her graduation gown. They hadn’t exchanged more than a dozen words that day, as Mitch had spent most of the time catching up with his buddy Nathan. She’d just been— there—little Kelsey the pest. When had she become little Kelsey the temptress? And where the hell had he been during her amazing transformation?

When she reached toward the glass, ostensibly for another piece, Mitch cleared his throat. He was not about to watch a repeat performance of what had undoubtedly been the most unconsciously seductive moment he’d ever witnessed.

“It’s about time you showed up, Fred,” Kelsey said, not turning around to greet her upstairs neighbor. She felt too warm and lethargic to even open her eyes. She’d been working all morning, wanting everything perfect before Mitch returned home the next day. She suspected he wouldn’t be too happy about the work she’d done, but it was too late to worry about it now.

The warmth of the sun felt relaxing, not vicious as it could be in mid-July, but hazy and soothing, the way only an Indian summer sun in the mid-Atlantic states can feel. A light breeze blew across her body, and where the ice had touched her skin, it brought delicious coolness. She could lounge like this all day. But it appeared Fred had finally come to help out.

“I’d just about finished without you, you said you’d be down by ten. Are you still going to help me get this place cleaned up?”

Kelsey sat up and stretched a little. Arching her back, she moved her head from side to side to work the kinks out of her neck. If she didn’t get back to work now she might never be able to. Her shoulders already felt achy.

“I’m going to pay for this tonight,” she said, not even turning to face him. “My arms are killing me from lugging the wheelbarrow around.”

Fred didn’t say anything, which wasn’t surprising. The man was incredibly shy. Until his girlfriend, Celia, had become friendly with Kelsey, he hadn’t spoken much more than a half-dozen words to her. After that, he’d come out of his shell and the three of them had become the best of friends.

“Let me,” he murmured very quietly. She didn’t know what he meant until he moved behind her chair and put his hands on her shoulders. Kelsey scooted forward on the lounge chair, dropping her chin to her chest so he could rub the back of her neck. He worked expertly on her tight muscles, and she instantly felt better. Kelsey was a little surprised. His hands felt rougher and stronger than she’d expect from someone who spent ten hours a day in a lab. He also pressed and stroked with complete confidence, not typical for a guy who seemed so shy around women.

“Wow,” she said with a lazy drawl, “I think you have a future as a masseur.”

He still didn’t say anything. She didn’t mind. Fred was sturdy and dependable, a little too serious, but a great neighbor. He minded his own business and yet always let her know she could call on him if needed. She hoped Mitch’s return tomorrow wouldn’t upset the peaceful balance they’d created in the brownstone.

Mitch didn’t know what crazy impulse made him reach out to massage Kelsey’s shoulders. He’d been about to confront her when his hands had moved with a mind of their own. And once he’d started, he’d been no more able to stop than a flower could resist turning up to the sun. So he kept touching her, kneading her flesh, rubbing the golden skin, whiich felt smoother than the silks he’d touched in China. He had an overwhelming urge to kiss the base of her neck, and only her next question stopped him.

“So what time do you think Mitch will be home tomorrrow?”

What was he doing? This was Kelsey! He’d known that, consciously, from the moment she started speaking. He recognized the slight Virginia drawl and the deep voice she’d inherited from her mother. When she was little, Kelsey used to get mad when her family teased her that she sounded like a boy. But she had most definitely grown into it. She sounded the way Mitch thought velvet soaked in whiskey would sound, if it could make a noise.

“His high holiness isn’t goinng to be pleased about the yard.”

Kelsey had started calling him “his high holiness” the very first summer he’d come to stay with her family, since she’d had to share her room with the baby so Mitch could bunk with Nathan. She’d put peanut butter between his toes the very first night! He shook off the seductive spell he’d been under. This was Kelsey. This was no temptress. He stood up and backed a step away from the chair.

“Do you think we should kowtow when he gets back? I bet he loved being in China where everyone bowed to him.”

He didn’t question the impulse. Grinning evilly, Mitch bent down, picked up the large watering can and dumped the contents all over her head.

When the dirty water hit her, Kelsey shrieked, then leaped up with laughter on her lips. “You rat,” she said as she shook off the moisture, spraying him with several drops.

Mitch watched her glance over her shoulder and saw the smile fade from her face as she recognized him. When she turned around, he tried not to stare. He really tried. And failed miserably.

Kelsey, the ten-year-old monster , was long gone. Kelsey, the scrawny freckle-faced teenager, had disappeared, too. Here was Kelsey the beauty. The sharp angles of her face had softened with maturity and the freckles had faded into the creamy skin. Her sun-streaked honey-colored hair brushed the curves of her breasts, which were barely covered by the red bikini top. Her eyes were the same brilliant green as her father’s, and her mouth, which he’d longed to slug at least two dozen times in his youth, was generous and eminently kissable.

Damn.

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Click on the cover if you’d like to order a copy!

The winner of Friday’s super Valentine’s giveaway is…

CATHY! Message # 72!

CONGRATULATIONS!!

Please get in touch with me right away at author@lesliekelly.com with your snail mail addy so I can try to ensure you get your strawberries by Wednesday.

Now, just for laughs…

Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful.

Okay. I’m NOT. :o I’m referring to that old Meredith Baxter Birney hair color ad. (Jeez, I totally just dated myself!) But since Julie sometimes gives me crap about this, let me re-phrase:

Don’t hate me because I sold the first book I wrote.

Here’s what happened.

It was late 1996/early 1997. I was a stay-at-home mom with 3 girls under the age of 7 and I was going out of my f’ing mind. My hubby came home one day with an article cut out of the local paper, advertising a class called “How To Write A Romance Novel.” It was taught by a former Harlequin/Silhouette editor at a local used book store. He knew I’d had a long interest in writing and I read romance novels. So he basically put the phone in my hands and ordered me to enroll in the class. Then he pushed me out the door every Tuesday night for 8 weeks to make sure I went.

It was one of the greatest things that has ever happened to me. Not as great as him–or our 3 girls–but definitely up high on my “best of” list.

During the very last session of the class, everyone had to give a scene they’d written to the rest of the group for evaluation. When I got my scene back, everyone, including the teacher, absolutely raved about it. They all encouraged me to finish this book about a cute girl-next-door living a double life as a super-sexy radio deejay. We also all decided we wanted to keep getting together every Tuesday night–not as a class, but now as a critique group.

So we kept meeting and I kept writing. And by the summer of 1997, I’d finished the book, which I called PASSION LINES.

That July, the RWA national conference was held in Orlando. My critique group and I enrolled and commuted every day over to the conference. I went to one workshop taught by Harlequin editor Brenda Chin (I think it was on doing revisions.) The workshop was packed–I was in the very back of the room and couldn’t even see Brenda, but I sure did hear her. I loved what she had to say, and decided then and there that SHE was the editor for me, even though I never met her, never talked to her (and no, I had no idea what an editor appointment was.)

So, after the conference, I went home, printed off the manuscript (all 260+ pages of it) and mailed it to her.

You read that right. No appointment. No query letter. No synopsis. Nothing. I just slapped that thing together and mailed it to her, and to add insult to injury, I LIED in the cover letter and said I’d remembered her saying that anyone who attended her workshop could go ahead and send her their full manuscripts. (She would NEVER say such a thing…still makes me–and her–laugh to this day about what a brazen little hussy I was!)

Okay, fast forward seven months. I wrote two more books and mailed both of them to Brenda without querying. Then that May, 1998, I had gone to a program at my daughter’s elementary school. Hubby took the day off to go with me. When we got home and I checked the messages, there was one from Brenda Chin, who said, “I think this one might have a chance.” I started to cry, which made my hubby think somebody had died. He asked me, “Who is it?” (meaning: “who died”) and I said, “Brenda Chin.” And he looked at me like I was crazy since he had no idea who that was. Then I told him and we both screamed and jumped around for a while.

I called Brenda back and she told me the story had great potential but needed some revisions, including re-writing the last 1/3 of the book. She said she’d send a revision letter, but believe me, I did NOT wait for one. That very weekend, I rewrote the last third of the book, and added some other stuff she’d wanted, including a prologue.

I eventually got the revision letter and slung that revised ms right back at Brenda. Then the waiting began again. Finally, in November 1998, she called around 11am one Thursday morning and offered to publish the book. I remained totally cool and collected, then hung up and freaked out all over the place.

It was-is-will always be-one of the most exciting moments of my life. I will never forget how happy Brenda sounded to be offering me this incredible opportunity and how my heart absolutely lodged in my throat with the joy of it

Here’s the funniest part…Brenda told me she had been a little skeptical about my book before she ever read a word because of the way I lied in the cover letter. Then she started to read…and during one part, where the heroine is thinking back to how much she’d loved Land of the Lost as a kid, she began to really get interested. Because Brenda loved the show Land of the Lost as a kid! (as did I!) And when she read on, to the scene with the heroine wearing a devil-red bikini, cooling herself off with an ice cube, she knew this book was something special. (Check back Monday if you want to see the scene for yourself!)

How funny. That was the very same scene my teacher and critique group had read the last week of my class…the one that had them convincing me I could actually do this crazy thing…writing a romance novel.

I guess they were right.

So, to sum things up:

She bought that book, which was re-titled NIGHT WHISPERS. It was released 9/99.

For some reason I still can’t fathom, it was a huge success. It won the National Reader’s Choice Award for Best Short Contemporary Romance of 1999. It won me the Notable New Author of the Year Award. Was named a Top 10 Romance of the Year in the Barclay Gold competition. And finaled in a couple of other contests. That was all way cool…but it wouldn’t have mattered if I hadn’t been able to sell another dang book!

You see, Brenda did NOT buy the 2 books I’d finished while waiting to hear from her, or the third I wrote & sent to her while waiting to hear about the revised version of NIGHT WHISPERS. There was a big 15 month lag between my 1st and 2nd books…so while I sold my “first ever” book, I wrote three more that have NEVER sold…and really sweated that second book sale. From what I’ve learned since, that’s not too uncommon, but oh, boy, were there a lot of nights when I was certain I was going to be another “one book wonder.”

Anyway…
I’ve gone on to work with Brenda on another 25+ books.
She is still the best editor I’ve ever known and one of my dearest friends.
She still gives me shit about lying in my cover letter.
We still laugh about LAND OF THE LOST–especially now that we both have the entire series on DVD.

I am still thankful, every day, to my hubby for pushing me out the door. And to the “Tuesday Night Group” (including former editor Pat Brocato who taught the class, former Silhouette author Mia Maxam, Marilyn Ivison, Laurie Cooper and Gayle Wilson) for convincing me to GO FOR IT.

Thank you. All of you. From the bottom of my heart.

PS: That first book? Just reprinted–THIS WEEK–with a fabulous new cover that doesn’t make me cry when I look at it. (click on the cover if you’d like to make my day and order a copy!)

Compare that to the original–I really did cry the first time I laid eyes on it. It became the “John Boy With Pecs” or “The Manssiere Man” cover:

Finally, I just have to say…when this business starts getting me down, I let myself think of that crazy/wonderful time in my life and acknowledge that, along with being Bruce’s wife, and Caitlin, Lauren & Megan’s mother, there’s absolutely nothing else in the world I would rather be doing.

Happy Valentine’s Day…almost!

Since this is the last Jungle Madness Friday before that oh-so-special holiday, I figured I’d do an oh-so-special Jungle Madness Giveaway.

So one random–VERY lucky–winner will get not only autographed copies of two Valentine-themed anthologies, BEHIND THE RED DOORS (featuring my very 1st Santori story, “Sheer Delights” and READING BETWEEN THE LINES (featuring my 2nd Derryville story, “Thrill Me” but will also receive the most orgasmically delicious chocolate-covered strawberries ever created!!

I am talking about a Valentine box of 6 specialty dipped strawberries from Shari’s Berries. If you haven’t had them…well, let me just say, you will not believe your taste buds! My hubby has had these delivered for me at a couple of RWA Conferences, and let me tell you, I have been the BELLE of the ball once everybody hears I have them.

Shari’s only delivers to US addresses, so please, US entries only. Winner will be drawn at random on Sunday and I’ll be sure to order your berries right away so you will (hopefully!) have them on Valentine’s Day!