Looking for Love in all the Weird Places

By Hank Phillippi Ryan



Can you find romance at the dentist’s office? I did. Twice.

The first time, many years, ago—and I mean, MANY--I fell madly in love with my very cute dentist. We squirted each other with the little air hoses—me in the chair, him standing over me—I will pause a moment while you imagine that. The fun with air hoses evolved into other fun, and we got engaged. And then, unengaged. But romance at the dentist. Who’d a thought.

Then, about a year ago, it happened again. This time, after my first four romantic suspense/mystery novels were out, and I was scouting for a new plot for book five.

You know what that’s like.

So in one of the worst of all possible events, on one level at least, I had to go to the dentist for a root canal. What romance can come of that? And, since I’m happily married now, the dentist, no matter how adorable, would not be a love-connection candidate.

But this time, romance—in the form of my new plot!—arrived in the dentist’s waiting room.

I was reading People magazine, one of the few joys of the dentist’s office, and there was on article about Jenny Sanford. You know her, right? The former first lady of South Carolina.

Her husband, Mark Sanford—well, you’ve certainly heard of him. He’s the one who told his family, and his staff, and the public in general that he was going off to hike the Appalachian Trail. When actually, he was off with his Argentinean mistress.

Remember that? Didn’t you think, at the time—how silly is THAT? And a pretty poor cover story. But anyway.



So the article in People was about how Jenny Sanford’s life had been yanked out of wack by this event. And I began to think about why someone would become the “other woman.” And in SUCH a public way.

I mean—you’re ruining your life, right? And especially in the case of a public figure, you’re certainly ruining the life of the man you ostensibly love. You’re ruining the lives of his kids, and his family, and your family, and, in the case of the Governor, everyone who works for him, since he’s clearly going to get caught at some point, and his political life would be over, and all his staff will be out of work. Not to mention all the voters who trusted him.

Why would the woman do that, I wonder? And why would the man? Lust, love, power? The thought that the rules don’t apply to them? The thrill of romance? Illicit romance?

And then, like all good mystery writers must, I started thinking—what if…what if there were another way to look at it. I wondered, might there be a good, acceptable, even, admirable reason to become the other woman? Hmm. Might there be?

Sitting on the tweedy couch at the dentist, waiting for a root canal, I kept thinking about this, about love, and sex, and relationships--and power, and manipulation, and ethics, and desire. And family, and responsibility, and consequences.

I got to the end of the story, and Jenny Sanford had one last quote. She said “You can choose your sin, but you cannot choose your consequences.”

I got goose bumps then. And I get goosebumps again as I tell you about it—because at that moment, sitting in the dentist’s waiting room, I thought—that’s my book. That’s my new book!

And it is.



THE OTHER WOMAN, coming this September from Forge.

A taut, tense thriller—where, just two weeks before an important senatorial election, a reporter suspects one of the candidates is having an affair—and she goes on the trail of an ex-governor’s secret mistress. At the same time, a Boston cop is on the trail of a possible serial killer. What happens—if it turns out they’re tracking the same person?

As the back cover says: Seduction, betrayal, and murder--its going to take more than votes to win this election.

And who is The Other Woman? I promise you—it’ll be a surprise.

But now, when readers ask “where do you get your ideas” and “where do you find romance” do you think they’ll believe me if I say “at the dentist”?

Where is the strangest place you’ve found romance? An ARC of THE OTHER WOMAN for one lucky commenter!

***************************
Award-winning investigative reporter Hank Phillippi Ryan is on the air at Boston's NBC affiliate. Her work has resulted in new laws, people sent to prison, homes removed from foreclosure, and millions of dollars in restitution. Along with her 27 EMMYs, Hank’s won dozens of other journalism honors. She's been a radio reporter, a legislative aide in the United States Senate and an editorial assistant at Rolling Stone Magazine.

A best-selling author of five mystery novels, Ryan has won the Agatha, Anthony and Macavity awards for her crime fiction—her newest book is DRIVE TIME, which earned a starred review from Library Journal. She’s on the board of Lyric Stage Company of Boston, as well as the national board of directors of Mystery Writers of America and vice-president of national Sisters in Crime. Her newest suspense thriller, THE OTHER WOMAN, is the first in a new series beginning in 2012 from Forge Books.

THE OTHER WOMAN is now available for pre-order on Amazon (and soon, at all your favorite bookstores and websites!)

Visit Hank's website
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Spring Into Romance with Maisey Yates

Hi Maggie! Thank you so much for having me on the blog today.

I'm excited to be Springing into Romance, but, as a romance writer that's something I do every day. I love romance. I love to read it, I love to write it. The thrill of falling in love never gets old. But for me, it's about so much more than that.

A predominant theme in my books has been that love is the most powerful force in the world. Love conquers all. I like to take too people who are badly in need of healing, and let the power of love intervene in their lives.

For me, romance is about the characters. It's what makes it interesting. Having characters who, aren't necessarily perfect, but who I can root for, who I can relate to. Which is another great thing about romance. Love is universal, it crosses socioeconomic boundaries, borders, race, color and creed.

I think one thing people may not understand about the romance genre, and category romance specifically, is how much freedom there is within the 'promises' of the genre. Yes, a romance must always have a happy ending in order to be a romance. But that makes the journey you take to that ending even more important. It's not relying on the element of surprise to keep the reader invested. It's relying on character, emotion, and a darn good story .

Within category romance, you have the general promise of the romance genre, but you have the promise of each individual line as well. I write for Harlequin Presents, which promises glamor, passion, high octane emotion and unforgettable men. But withing that promise...there is so much room to play!

I've had the chance to write about a very driven business woman who proposes marriage to a stranger to secure the job she wants. An ordinary woman who, thanks to an IVF clinic mix-up, finds herself expecting a prince's heir. A cupcake baker who falls in love with her best friend. An event planner who falls in love with her widower boss. A rebellious princess who falls for her (very sexy and masculine, mind you!) virgin bodyguard.

I've had the chance to explore themes of redemption, loss, revenge..and cupcakes.

And all with a happy ending.

Speaking of cupcakes, my cupcake baker heroine just landed on my doorstep yesterday, and I'd like to give a copy away! Tell me what you like about romance in the comments, or ask me a question, and you'll be entered for a chance to win a copy of One Night in Paradise!



Here's the blurb...

All her most exotic fantasies are about to bubble over into reality!
Clara Davis knows the moment yes slips from her lips that she’s in way over her head. Just how is she supposed to pretend to be her boss’s fiancée on his luxury honeymoon?

Zack Parsons’s Don’t date the staff rule has prevented him from ever seeing beyond Clara’s baker’s apron. But now he’s looking at her in a completely different, rather more tempting light. Giving in to one night of wickedness should be enough to satisfy their new-found cravings…

Shouldn’t it?

Spring Into Romance with Jenny Gardiner

It’s so nice to be here to help Maggie launch the release of her fabulous novel Can’t Buy Me Love! I had to laugh when Maggie asked me to be featured as part of her “Spring Into Romance” theme, because I’ve found myself as a novelist to be at times adrift somewhere in that multiple-personality world that straddles commercial women’s fiction, chick lit and romance. And while my novels often get slotted as romance, I don’t regard myself as a romance writer in the same way that someone who writes category romances, for instance, does, perhaps because I don’t exactly write uber super steamy romance scenes (I’m too much of a weenie, because I think my teen kids would about kill me if I did). My nomadic genre-straddling was a problem for me when I published books with New York publishing houses-- I think the conundrum of where to shelve my books in a bookstore occasionally confounded the powers that be.

Over the past two years I’ve been able to enjoy a career as an indie author, publishing my work digitally direct to Kindle, Barnes and Noble, the iBookstore, Smashwords, and such, and have grown to love the freedom this provides me. For instance, there was a time when you really had to focus on one specific genre to “brand” yourself, which makes sense on many levels--find readers who like you as an author of historical romances, for instance, and they’ll follow you far and wide and buy/read all of your historical romances. But I tended to be all over the map, with non-fiction memoir, creative non-fiction, women’s fiction, chick lit, I even pitched a self-help book which I was told I could only sell to a New York house if I had a profile on a national level as an expert in that field. Natch. Oh well. And yeah, lurking in my laptop were a couple of straight-out romances as well, books I figured at some point I’d publish but only once I’d gotten my brand established enough to be able to veer away from it and not leave the “professionals” in New York to wonder what to do with my books.



But with indie publishing, I’ve been able to publish my novels and get them to readers. With the beauty of digital, I can categorize them to reach various audiences, and leave it up to the reader to decide if they like this book enough, maybe they’d like to try another of my novels as well. So that meant I was able to dust off those lurking romances and bring them out into the light of day (and, um, er, yeah, my kids might not be too thrilled, but more on that in a minute). And the thing about my romances is they’re a little too edgy usually to fit in the normal confines of “romance”, so all the better that I can publish them myself and let my audience figure it out! The first romance I published, ACCIDENTALLY ON PURPOSE, is a lighthearted story of a woman tired of waiting for Mr. Right to come along. She wants kids, so she takes matters into her own hands (turkey baster, anyone?!). Unbeknownst to her, she’s then hired to be the photographer for her “donor’s” high society wedding. Mayhem ensues, etc.



My next romance, COMPROMISING POSITIONS, could almost be accused of being romantic suspense, but not really. It’s about a woman determined to get hired for a public relations job on Capitol Hill despite rampant sexism working against her. When she lands her dream job against her boss, the press secretary’s, wishes, it’s only because her other boss, a Viagra-sated Senator, wants to add her as another notch on his bed board. Sparks fly as my heroine falls fast for her press secretary (yeah, he falls for her as well) while having to dodge the aggressive moves of the horny Senator. Embezzlement, corruption and yet more mayhem ensue ;-). Oh, and those steamy sex scenes? Yep, I sucked it up and tried my hand at it (I’d originally written this book to enter into a contest sponsored by a New York Times bestselling author in which hot sex scenes were a must). I just decided to not tell my kids it’s out there. Oh, and I published these two novels under the pseudonym Erin Delany. Well, sort of. Jenny Gardiner writing as Erin Delany is more like it. Everyone asks me why I did it this way and I figured it made sense. Readers of women’s fiction are not always interested in migrating to romance, so I didn’t want to confuse those readers into thinking these were straight-out women’s fiction, but romance readers are often happy to straddle those lines, so I wanted them to be able to find my other books if they enjoyed these two romances. Make sense?

Anyhow, so I guess I am a romance writer. Well, sort of. I am definitely still a crazy mixed-up kid in publishing. But the great thing nowadays is that this confusion can work in my favor, rather than being a detriment. I hope you’ll go check out these books, as well as my others: #1 Kindle Bestseller SLIM TO NONE, American Title III winner SLEEPING WITH WARD CLEAVER, WHERE THE HEART IS, ANYWHERE BUT HERE, WINGING IT: A MEMOIR OF CARING FOR A VENGEFUL PARROT WHO’S DETERMINED TO KILL ME, and I’M NOT THE BIGGEST BITCH IN THIS RELATIONSHIP (a humorous anthology of dog stories in which I’m a contributor).
Thanks so much!

Spring Into Romance With Marilyn Brant

Thanks so much to Maggie for inviting me to her blog today! I’m very excited about her upcoming release, Can’t Buy Me Love. It’ll be here soon!!

I’ve always loved romance…even when I didn’t realize that was what I was reading.

When I was in junior high, I discovered gothic romances, which, in our tiny public library, were shelved in the “mystery” section. Classic works by Victoria Holt and Phyllis A. Whitney were my favorites. I read every single one of them there—mesmerized by these beautiful heroines in far-flung lands, often with amnesia or a dreadful case of curiosity about those strange noises coming from the attic… The heroes were consistently handsome, mysterious and a little bit dangerous. I distinctly remember longing to go skiing in the Swiss Alps after reading one such story, never mind that I couldn’t even ski down the puny bunny hill at Devil’s Head in Wisconsin without falling half a dozen times.

When I was in high school, I was introduced to my greatest literary love—Jane Austen. I didn’t realize I was reading “A Master of Romance” then either or, in some circles, the “Grandmother of Chick Lit.” LOL. (I’m never quite sure what Jane would make of that title, but I hope she’d be honored or, at the very least, amused.) No. I just thought Pride and Prejudice was a “literary classic”…and, also, the best, most insightful novel in the entire world with a love story for the ages.

So, I guess it was natural for me, when I finally began writing fiction, to want to focus on similar themes. To want to have a romance as a major plot element in my story. To write about heroes who were handsome, mysterious and a little bit dangerous. I like to think that’s true of most of the men I’ve created for my very curious (albeit non-amnesiac) heroines. Like “Sam” for Ellie in According to Jane. Or “Garrett” for Cait in Double Dipping. And definitely “Emerson” for Gwen in A Summer in Europe. Sometimes these men even hang out in the Alps…although they do not, I confess, ski.

I love the self-discovery that comes along with a developing romance. The sexual tension whenever the hero and heroine are in the room together. And especially the subtext in a love story—how everything they say has an undercurrent of hidden meaning—like Darcy and Elizabeth’s veiled barbs in Pride and Prejudice. I can read those delicious scenes again and again and never tire of their delights.

What about you? Do you have a favorite romance where you particularly love the sexual tension between the main characters? Please share! I’ll give away two books today: to one commenter (who lives in the U.S. or Canada) a signed print copy of my latest novel, A Summer in Europe, and to one commenter (who lives anywhere else in the world) a PDF ebook copy of my bestselling romantic comedy, On Any Given Sundae.




Best wishes to all of you! ~Marilyn Brant

Spring Into Romance

with Christine Ashworth

I am thrilled to be here in anticipation of Maggie Marr’s book release, Can’t Buy Me Love, on March 28th!

Okay, so - my name is Christine Ashworth, and I’m a confirmed, life-long, romance-novel-a-holic. I picked up my first Rosemary Rogers book, Sweet, Savage Love (where my mom had stuck it, under the cushion of her chair) at the age of 12, finished it in three days, and I haven’t looked back.

Soon after that, Mom introduced me to Harlequin Romances (she didn’t read these – she preferred the longer books). These were fairly chaste back then (the mid-1970’s) and cost under a dollar. With my two dollar allowance, I would buy myself a romance novel and two boxes of Junior Mints. Saturdays were spent sprawled on my bed, reading and munching.

As time went on, I got brave enough to take a book or two (or five) with me wherever I went. My dad could be counted on at Christmas and my birthday to go to our local used bookstores, and buy me Harlequin Presents novels by the yard. (No, I’m not kidding. I spent many a Christmas Day on my bed, reading. I could go through 3 Presents novels before Christmas Dinner, lol!) I had a few duplicates, but not many. This happy state of affairs continued for a long time…until…

One day, I was sprawled out in center splits at my ballet studio, elbows on the floor and reading a Presents, stretching and waiting for rehearsal to start. One of our (straight) male dancers walked by – seeing a ballet dancer reading was, in our company anyway, a novelty – so he asked me what I was reading. When I showed him, he frowned at me and told me I was reading brain candy.

I was seventeen, a junior in high school. He was twenty-four and fresh out of graduate school. I made a face at him and said it was my form of relaxation, to read happy-ever-after stories, and it was none of his business anyway. He shrugged and moved away.

The next day, he tossed a copy of Mary Renault’s THE PERSIAN BOY to me. Definitely not a romance; but the novel swept me away and I remember staying up late that night, trying to read as much of it as I could before I fell asleep. I soon devoured as much of Mary Renault as I could find in my high school library.

Ever since then, my reading has broadened. I didn’t want people to think I was shallow; so I read widely (since I didn’t go to college with any regularity). Dostoyevski, D.H. Lawrence, Herman Hesse (guess who was suggesting these books?), Marcus Aurelius, Mary Shelley, Jane Austen; I veered into poetry with Donne and Keats, Shakespeare and Longfellow. I also continued to read my Harlequins – though not at the ballet studio.

As I moved into my twenties, I moved away from the series romance and into mysteries with romance, the bigger romance novels, and Crime and Punishment. (Never did finish that one.) It wasn’t until I was in my late 20s that I re-discovered series romance; only now there were all sorts of categories to choose from.

Since I come from a family of writers, writing series romance was definitely something that has always been in my wheelhouse. I just needed time to get there, I told myself. When I did finally start writing, I found the short format to be frustrating.

Jill Marie Landis had come to my local RWA chapter to speak, and I remember crying on her shoulder about my frustrations. She mentioned to me that perhaps I needed to write longer books for a while. To write what I wanted to write, instead of what I thought I should write. Plus, she very kindly wrote me a card, telling me the same thing, only in writing – which made a huge difference!

That’s my roundabout way of telling you why I write longer paranormal romance, instead of category romance. I would love to write category, believe me – and I hope at some point to go back to writing category, and see if, this time, I have what it takes to get Harlequin to bite. But in the meantime, I’m happy writing in my own world of gorgeous tribred men (demon, human and Fae bloodlines) and the women who love them.

Oh – and that straight ballet dancer that first made faces at me for reading Harlequin Romances? We got married 3 years later, and are still living “happily ever after”. Now whenever I read a romance and he makes faces, I just blow him a kiss – and tell him I’m doing research.



…to retrieve his soul, she’ll become fire… Gabriel Caine stands on the edge of the abyss. A vampire has stolen his soul and if he doesn’t get it back soon, his next step will be into hell.

Rose Walters has been sent back from the dead to complete one task – save Gabriel Caine. But this muscled guy in leather, black jeans and a dangerous aura didn’t look like he needed anyone’s help.

Rose has touched the whole of Gabriel, making him yearn for a love he believes he can never have. Her willingness to put her human life on the line for him forces him to bring all three parts of himself – demon, human and Fae bloodlines, and the traps and gifts of each – into harmony, and into the fight that will decide their fate.

Following is an excerpt of DEMON SOUL…enjoy!

Gabriel knew her frustration as he knew his own. His original plan dissolved as he vaulted up to catch himself on the railing of the balcony. Joy and need both pulsed through him as he caught her scent.
Rose gasped and whirled about, pressed her hands to her mouth. Finally registering Gabriel, she wrapped her arms around the robe she wore, her eyes flashing in the dim light.
"Took you long enough. I’m going crazy here. Aren’t you?”
"I stayed away longer than I’d meant." Gabriel grimaced as her shoulders tensed up. Sighing, he dropped from the railing to the balcony and held out a hand to her. "I’m not used to needing anyone. Not for years."
She twined her fingers with his. "I’m beginning to understand that." Her words were quiet in the pre-dawn. "You meant to push me away. But it doesn't matter." She turned her face up to his, her blue eyes like lasers, pinning him to the spot. "Apparently this need thing works both ways. Your soul has been aching for you. It’s kept me awake and edgy. I’ve needed you. I’ve been calling you for hours.”
“I’m here now.”
Rose moved toward him and put one small hand on his broad chest.
He felt that touch clear to his missing soul. Almost holding his breath, his gaze met hers. Flinched from what he saw in her eyes, even as it warmed him.
"Gabriel, I can't do anything else than protect you. I feel this is the reason I'm here, and everything that went before brought me to this place, this time. Everything else brought me to you. Whether or not we have a future together? I don’t know. But I don’t want to rule it out, either, just because you’re scared."
"I don't want this." He searched, but words were beyond him. A helpless little sound escaped from his lips. "Rose."
She smiled a little, her eyes finally warming. "It's okay. I'm scared, too. You do what you need to do. Whatever happens with Satine, I'll be here waiting for you. We’ll figure out what comes next together, okay?"
His arms came around her then, lifting her off her feet to bring their faces to the same level. Gabriel searched her eyes. They were clear, holding no secrets. Her heart shone freely, and it took his breath away.
She wrapped her legs around his waist, took his face into her hands as he adjusted his hold. "Kiss me," she whispered. "While we have this time together."
He obeyed. Her lips were like satin beneath his, warm and alive and opening to him. His senses spun and his grip on her tightened. His control wavered.
Gabriel broke their kiss and leaned his forehead against hers, taking a deep breath. Drawing in her scent, the delicious fragrance made him yearn. Every part of him grew hard as stone.
This sprite, with her flaming red hair and Soul Chalice abilities had captured his heart like no other. Enticed him like no other. Her hands urged him to take her mouth again, and he forgot the reasons to deny her.
Her body grew warm against him. Her scent rose up to wreathe his brain, turning his thoughts muddy. He needed.
Urgency thrummed through him. Gabriel turned, pressed her back against the wall and, as his mouth ravaged hers, slid his hand down the front of her robe. Her skin was heated silk against the roughness of his fingers, her body wonderfully responsive.
Rose's hands spread across his chest, those strong, capable hands hot against his cool skin, sparking fires of need wherever they landed. Gods.
"Rose?" The door beside them opened. "Oops. Sorry." It shut. Maggie went away.
Gabriel stilled, one of his hands curved on her bottom, the other on her breast, his mouth a whisper from hers. His eyes opened and he looked into the smiling blue eyes of the woman who had captured him.
"Now there's timing for you," she said, her voice husky with need and laughter.
***
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