Showing posts with label love. Show all posts
Showing posts with label love. Show all posts

Saturday, May 23, 2015

Special Moments That Inspire Love--Read My Sexy Saturday Excerpt

Welcome to another edition of My Sexy Saturday. This week's theme is "My Sexy Love" and is about those special moments that inspire romance. Well, for every couple in the universe there's going to be the one unique special moment that sparked their love for each other, isn't there? Think of all the zillions of possibilities! That's what makes the romance genre so much fun to read and write. ;)

Love wasn't even part of their game plans, so how did single mom Cassie and out-of-work Mike know they were destined for each other? What special moment inspired them to reach out and take a chance on love? Find out in this short excerpt from The Fixer-Uppers.





The Fixer-Uppers
www.devinedestinies.com/the-fixer-uppers

"An exceptional writer with a flair for humor." --Romance Reviews Today


Can a single mom find happiness on a blind date--or at least dinner with a male who can cut up his own food? Cassie and Mike believe they're "in like" not "in love." But when down-on-his-luck Mike is evicted, Cassie takes him into her home. Mike starts fixing everything from window screens to her two boys' broken hearts. Will Cassie let him fix hers?



Excerpt set up: Mike tries to stop Cassie from going on a date with another man. He finds her ironing her dress for the evening and does his best to convince her to stay home--with him.




Cassie felt warm all over. The room seemed to be swaying beneath her feet. She coughed to clear her suddenly dry throat.  “Yeah, it’s a nice robe.” The room began to spin as she breathed in deeply the masculine scent of him. “I don’t wear it around much since it has the tendency to slide off me at the most inconvenient times.” 
 

Mike’s lips lightly brushed against her earlobe. “Show me,” he whispered.


Cassie’s knees turned to liquid. She knew she had to get a grip on herself, turn the conversation around somehow. . . But she couldn’t. A moment later the acrid smell of burning cloth brought her back to reality.  “Mike?”
 
He nuzzled her earlobe again. “Hmm, yes?”

She opened one eye slowly. “I think we’ve ruined my dress.”

“I’ll get you a new one.” He took the iron from her and yanked the plug from the wall.

“What’ll I wear tonight then?” she moaned.

 He put the iron down and slowly turned her to face him.  “Remember? I like what you’ve got on now.” Pulling her closer, he gently kissed her lips. 

Find out more about Cassie and Mike's special moments in The Fixer-Uppers, available from Devine Destinies Books, Amazon, All Romance eBooks and wherever fine ebooks are sold!
 Have a great My Sexy Saturday blog hop!

http://mysexysaturday.blogspot.com



Please subscribe to my monthly "Triple C" e-newsletter today. It's filled with book news, writing Q & A, free ebook downloads and more!
* indicates required
Powered by MailChimp


Tuesday, January 03, 2012

Whatever Happened to Romantic Comedy?

We've made it to 2012 and the Mayan calendar is still running... Perhaps we'll lick this end of the world thing before we run out of time. ;-)

I had a sudden revelation the other day on why I've not written a contemporary romantic-comedy in a while... I think the genre has gone completely and utterly belly up. What made me come to this horrible and sad conclusion? Hollyweird, of course!


Handsome hubby and I were watching a DVD checked out of the library (our only source of entertainment since we no longer have cable or money to go to theatres in person) the other evening. We figured a title, that was a recent release, looked like it had entertainment potential. Boy, were we ever wrong! Although two capable, big name Hollywood actors played the leads and the title and synopsis on the case gave every indication it would be an enjoyable two hours, hubby found himself reading his book about a half hour into the film, and I only finished it out of a sense of "train wreck fascination" to see if it would get better before the end. Unfortunately, it did not.





A romantic-comedy (PG rated) where the heroine and hero 
at least respect each other in the morning!

 I'm debating giving out the name of this movie (because who wants to give publicity to something that's basically dire?), but I will give you some spoilers so in case you come across it, and this rings a bell, you are forewarned.

 Handsome big name male movie lead (formerly hooked up with Demi Moore) falls into bed (i.e., sex) with the beautiful big name female lead (who was much better in Black Swan). Emotionless, cold-hearted, wild sex ensues. Now, I've written some pretty hot tales about acquaintances meeting and having great sex from the get-go, but these two gorgeous folks didn't get my juices going... I've watched hotter sex education films while I was taking a psychology class in college. Anyway, that wasn't the worse part of the movie in our opinions. It was the fact that cold, emotionless sex was suppose to be funny.


Why would anyone who used another human being for their own personal pleasure without a thought to the other be considered funny? Hubby and I chalked it up to us being old-fashioned romantics of a "certain age". That is, we're not under thirty years of age, and we don't sit and text our text buddies all day long about doing naughty things in order to rouse a quick snigger of laughter from the faceless internet crowd who is playing on their iPhones instead of working or attending class. But just the very thought that using another person for physical gratification and kicks is hilarious fills us with disgust and more than a bit of sadness.

I suddenly have an urge to find The Wedding Singer and watch it over and over again. At least the young folks in that movie treated each other with respect and courtesy... Two traits that are very much a turn-on for many of us "old folks".

This year, I'm working on a Young Adult novel series idea that's more science fiction/paranormal in nature and not so comedic. I just don't get the comedy of treating others like objects in contemporary fiction. Maybe one day the old-fashioned screwball romantic-comedy with bickering couples who fall in love (such as in Romancing the Stone) will return to our screens. I'll try to keep my hopes up, but the Mayan calendar is ticking away...


What's your favorite "romantic-comedy"? It can be a movie, play, book or whatever and from any era. List them in the comments below and see if we can't make a library of decent entertainment to fall back upon in in 2012!

Monday, October 10, 2011

Fighting Cancer: A Love Story

I've been meaning to write something about Mom's cancer fight for a while now, but words have failed me. It's not that I don't have something to say--whenever did I not have something to say? It's just that the overwhelming-ness of the situation tends to shut down my thought processes.


Where to begin? At the moment we first heard the dreaded pronouncement? At the moment she realized something wasn't quite right? I doubt we'll ever know when Mom knew herself, as she keeps her cards close to her chest, but how would that information help? The overwhelming feelings still cause me to stop dead in my tracks.


The only words that come to me are "love story". You ask, "Love story? How could you associate those two words with your mother's illness?" I wonder that, too. But since they've come to me over and over whenever I tried to put pen to paper there must be some truth to them.


Taking care of an ailing loved one doesn't sound romantic--and it sure isn't--but it is often a necessity. Duty equals love and love equals duty. We feel obligated to take care of the person who once took care of us. Parent and child roles reverse.


At first I balked at the notion: She's an adult! She should take care of herself! But then the reality kicks in: She needs our help... Who am I to tell her no?


Perhaps the roles have outlived their usefulness. I can return the favor of loving her like she loved me when I was small and helpless.


She's still my mother, and I am still her child, but I can also play the role of parent when she needs me to. Duty is fulfilled and honor is maintained.


Now, if only she would eat her lunch...






That's it for now. I may write more about our experiences later. Feel free to share your own love stories of fighting cancer in the comments section. Thanks.

Tuesday, February 01, 2011

Happy Valentines Day!




Happy Valentines Day! Yes, we've made it through January and on to February and the winter storm of the century. Today we're stuck inside with nothing better to do than to try and cheer everyone up. What better way than by posting a short and funny video?

Enjoy "Cupid to the Rescue"--and tell us what you think. :)


Cupid, Tom and Becky are all "Pocket Personalities", a new arts endeavor by me and my very creative husband. We thought others might enjoy owning a miniature character from literature or history that means something special. They make excellent teaching aids for educators and of course they make super gifts. Plus, we are taking personal commissions, our first big project being a complete "family portrait" for my sister's family. That's fourteen kids, grandkids, husbands and wives altogether in peg doll form.

It certainly is a different than making everyone sit for a stuffy and boring oil painting to hang on the wall, don't you think? Who wouldn't enjoy seeing their loved ones in doll form? (And they make a great way to teach little ones about their family members.)

Pocket Personalities now available at Theophilus Saxe's Emporium:
http://www.etsy.com/shop/theophilussaxe

Update: And just in time for Valentine's Day...



"Pride and Peg-judice: a vignette not by Jane Austen"

Let us know what other literary or historical characters you'd like to see in a video. We've had a lot of fun making them!

Saturday, February 13, 2010

Love is... a Banoffee Pie




Love is… a Banoffee Pie


I was going to write something deeply profound and touching about how wonderful it is when you finally meet your soul mate and marry him and share a lovely, romantic weekend together… but I won’t.

Instead, I will give you all a recipe for Banoffee Pie.

What has a delicious toffee-cream-banana-topped pie in a graham cracker crust got to do with love? A lot, since my beautiful soul mate is making one for me this very instant in honor of our first Valentine’s Day together as man and wife. And if you can’t figure out how several cups of brown sugar and condensed milk shows how “sweet” he is on me, then you need to stop rinsing your mouth out daily in vinegar and watch a marathon of Groundhog Day, The Wedding Singer and 50 First Dates.

Then you’ll see what I mean.

Banoffee Pie

1 - graham cracker pie crust (or make a crushed cookie pie crust of your own choosing)

5 ½ oz. unsalted butter
2/3 cup of brown sugar
14 oz. can condensed milk

2 –bananas cut up in coin-shaped slices
10 oz. whipping cream
some chopped, toasted hazelnuts (if you like)
chocolate shavings (if you like)


To make the toffee filling, place butter and sugar in a saucepan and heat until the sugar is dissolved, the pour in the condensed milk. Cook over a medium heat for 5 – 6 minutes, stirring continuously until the mixture has thickened and turned golden. Hint: scrape the bottom of the pan continuously as you stir. Don’t overcook it or your mixture will turn to thick fudge.

Pour the toffee mixture into the pie crust and chill one hour until firm.

Slice bananas and place on top of the toffee mixture. Whip the cream until it holds its shape and pile on top of the bananas, then decorate the top with chopped nuts and chocolate shavings as you like. Enjoy!

Happy Valentine’s Day!

Wednesday, August 19, 2009

Will Write for Food!



Our wedding cake was rather unusual... It was shaped like a TARDIS, the time travel capsule from the BBC series Doctor Who.

I was going to write a little something about my recent marriage to fellow author AJ Matthews, but he beat me to the punch. To quote my English-born hubby: “Ah, bugger!” No matter, I can always find another lofty topic to pontificate upon for this blog, right?

That last sentence proves that I am rusty and don’t have a clue what to write, doesn’t it? Sigh!

I confess I’m terribly out of practice. Think of me as a ballplayer who has been injured and set out on the bench all summer long… and I haven’t been called in to play until the very last play of the very last game of the very last championship series. It’s all up to me to knock one out of the ballpark and make a big “hit” to the adoration of the cheering crowds. Oh, dear… I swung and missed. My confidence has struck out faster than my vain attempts at fanning the air.

(Hmm, note to self: Do not attempt to be creative while listening to the Rolling Stones croon the classic, “Nineteenth Nervous Breakdown”. Yeah, it’s a catchy tune with a great danceable beat but still… It just reinforces the fact that I’ve not been able to write anything more than an email in quite some time now, and I’m terrified I won’t be able to write something coherent.)

You’d think being recently married to the most gorgeous, most charming and loving male on Planet Earth would inspire me to write some hot love scenes—and don’t think that it doesn’t—but unfortunately the demanding “day job” gets in the way. It’s either spend what little energy and free time I retain after toiling in the salt mines all week long with the new handsome hubby or completely ignore him and my need for sleep and write. I have chosen the former and not the latter.

Given the choice of which of the two—writing or the day job—to give up the answer is rather easy—I’d lose the day job in a flash if I could support the two of us on my writing. Unfortunately, even when I was fairly free to write full-time, I still couldn’t make a living of it. Sure, I could pay a few bills and go to a few writers’ conferences, but I couldn’t consistently pay rent or keep the heat on in the winter. And always I have this need to eat… Not a lot, mind you, but at least three meals a day, or I pass out from hunger.

So when there’s a choice of write and starve (and freeze) the two of us or stay and slave in the salt mines, you can see what decision I’m forced to make.

But I am more than willing to keep looking for employment elsewhere—employment that doesn’t drain my physical energy and ruin my eyes staring at a flat screen (two actually) all day long and playing with numbers (not my forte). Any and all employers you might know of open looking for a creative type who doesn’t enjoy mindless data entry and anal retentive paper-pushing eight hours a day, any work you think might appeal to a displaced romance novelist, feel free to send my way. Thanks!

In the meantime, don’t forget to buy my books… I still have a few out there and every sale is appreciated. Thanking you in advance… and now it’s back to the grind. That salt doesn’t mine itself, you know!


Tuesday, December 02, 2008

My Angels



Christmas is a time for angels—angels on my tree, angels on my cards, angels on my door wreath. But angels don’t only present themselves for the holidays. Even if we don’t acknowledge them, they exist all year round. Angels surround us and guide us and nurture us. How can I honor some of my “angels”—those wonderful individuals who have helped me navigate through the rough waters of this past year?

I hand-painted some angel ornaments to present my personal angels as “awards” for their love and assistance, but my poor excuse for art can never be enough to thank them for the help and understanding they’ve given me.

To Elaine (and Doris), my angels at Authorlink: Thanks for another year of work and wonderment reading all those fascinating manuscripts. Here's to a better year in 2009!

To Irfan and Alma, my angels of car repair: Thanks for helping me band-aid my 12 year-old car together for yet another year. Your friendly optimism and auto expertise have kept me on the road for a minimum of cash outlay. And Alma—your Bosnian coffee can’t be beat!

To Joyce and Jerry, my angels of understanding and moral support: You’ve allowed me to help you with your mission to teach English as a Second Language to the immigrant community for six years now. You rescued me from the hospital E.R. when I was without transportation, and given me rides to a job interview and to the airport. Your smiles and belief in me keep me going when I feel overwhelmed. A mere “thank you” can never cover all the wonderful feelings I have for you two!

To Diane, Brooke and John, my angels of vocal music: Thank you all for allowing me to sing with your respective Sweet Adelines’ chorus, Praise Band, and Festival Choir. Singing saves my sanity—I owe you, big time!

To Kathryn, my angel of DVD lending: Thanks for letting me borrow and watch your Babylon 5 episodes. I now know who G’Kar and Londo Mollari are now—and have enjoyed every minute of watching their story play out on the small screen. It’s always great to have a fellow sci-fi geek to chat about our favorite shows and movies with. You’re the best!

To Jenny and Mike, my angels of cell phones and socialization: Thanks for helping me keep connected with the world through your phone plan and through your social opportunities (and good eats). I’ve met some very interesting people at your parties… Call it “geek networking” but it’s always great to know you’re not alone in your interest in things of a science fiction nature. One of these days I’m going to see your names in print (Jenny) and on the silver screen (Mike—special effects guru) and say, “I knew them when!”

To Rob and Rona, my angels of computer repair and Thursday “Happy Hours”: Thanks for your technical expertise and patience when my old PC did the inevitable meltdown. And thanks for all the great get-togethers you’ve hosted at your place. Happy hour is truly a happy time on your patio!

To Zo and Mark, my angels of fun on the river: I enjoyed becoming a "lieutenant commander" on your float trip. May the good ship sail forever!

To Gwen and Ryu, my angels of artistic geekdom and great turkey and stuffing: Thanks for inviting me to your home last year for Thanksgiving dinner and for letting me jabber your ears off about things of a movie nature. Thanks for tips on looking for jobs in the area, too. I can’t wait to see your names someday on the Hollywood Walk of Fame!

To Linda, Sue, Sue, Barb and all my fellow writers at MoRWA and online: Thanks for the inspiration!

To Donna, my angel of tax preparation: Wow—I could have never figured it all out without you. You literally saved my bacon and saved me bacon, so I didn’t starve later. See you next April!

To Mom, my eternal angel and cheerleader: Enough said!

To Adrian, my angel of all time: Thanks for always being there for me. You’ve dried my tears and listened to my rants and ravings and still didn’t desert me. You put my feelings first and sacrificed so much to keep me on an even keel. You’re my bestest friend ever. I hope to be your bestest friend forever in an official sense one day soon, too. Love ya, my handsome man!

Do you have any “angels” you’d like to honor with a shout out this year? Leave their names and their stories in the comment section below. Everyone who leaves a comment this month will have their name thrown into the hat for an e-book prize drawing.

Merry Christmas to one and all, and especially to my dear angels.


P.S. Speaking of giving out awards, I received one myself recently—my writers’ guide THE CURSE OF THE MANUSCRIPT EATING SLUSHPILE MONSTER has been nominated for an EPPIE Award! The finalists will be announced in March. Read more about my funny, “how NOT to” book at Uncial Press: http://www.uncialpress.com/books/curseoft/curseoft.html and at my web site: http://www.cynthianna.com/slushpile.html

Thursday, August 16, 2007

Moving out, moving up, moving on

I’m not sure what to write about for this blog so I guess I will simply tell you why I haven’t been doing much creative writing lately.

I’ve moved—myself and all my junk (and there’s plenty of it) about two miles southeast of my previous location. No, this really wasn’t my idea, but my lawyer seem to think it’s best I move out of the house since my soon-to-be-ex-spouse seems so attached to it that he’s pretty much trashed the place. By moving out and moving on with my life, it gives him one less thing to be nasty about come the final decree. But moving like this—with only a few weeks notice and all by myself essentially up until the day of the move—definitely was nothing I had foreseen several months ago.

The day that I moved the “big items”, i.e., the furniture, was sort of festive. I had several good friends come with their pick up trucks to come and pick up the big pieces and take them over to my new apartment… which happens to be on the second floor.

Uh-oh.

Yeah, it was a sweltering, hot sweaty day in late July. (Luckily, I moved before the real heat wave began—the high probably was only near 90 that day instead of the 106 degrees Fahrenheit they forecasted for today.) So, the added stress and heat of “moving up” certainly added to the stress I was already feeling. But, bless their hearts, they got everything up the twisty-turny staircase and into my new flat. I had been holding my breath that the dining table with the big pedestal base would make it up those steps and through the narrow front door, and, believe it or not, it did. It looks great in the kitchen area, too.

The only real furniture mishap was my computer desk—the cabinet that housed my printer and junk sort of went “whoosh” and toppled over into pieces like a house of cards falling over upon its removal from my previous abode. It hadn’t been put together very well obviously the first time, so it couldn’t take the front step without collapsing. Sigh! It sits in pieces around the living area of my new place. I’m looking for a handyman—or handywoman—to help me glue it back together. I think the screws are all stripped and some of the lovely particleboard panels have cracked, so it needs major surgery.

Other wonderful post-moving hassles have included the exploding washer drain hose from hell and learning to cope with living two and half stories up with a very narrow balcony to put my outdoor plants on… I finally got wise and decided to put my “rubber tree” (I have no idea what to call this plant my dad gave me about twelve years ago) down in the side patio area of the apartment building. The only problem it now has is that the wind tends to topple it over and I don’t see it’s fallen unless I peek out from behind my blinds (drawn to prevent the killer sun from further baking my apartment). Such is life in apartment city, as I call my new neighborhood.

I’ve had to deal with a lot of other issues, too, like looking for full-time work with health benefits (no luck there yet) and dealing with my daughters who don’t seem to want to talk to me anymore. So, this isn’t an excuse for not writing—it’s more of an explanation why my heart isn’t into as much at this point in history.

The high point of all this moving hell is my friends and family members who have been very supportive of me. I love them all.

Well, let’s end this blog on a high note and ask a discussion question you can comment upon and share your life wisdom with me. The discussion question: Tell me about a time when you were faced with a “move” in life that may have happened unexpectedly… How did you cope with your rapidly changing existence? What support groups or persons helped you out the most and why?

Thanking you in advance...
google-site-verification: googlec9fe367ac800d499.html