The Difference between romance novels and real life

Real life version

A knock at door. A glance through the window. Oh, lord a big bad warrior. Throws bolt. "what do you want?"

"Directions to the nearest township and while I'm here I'm going to steal your gun and horse and have my wicked way with you."

"Oh. Well, my father and my four karate world champion brothers are in the barn so you'd better get or they'll beat the crap out of you."

"Ahh, puts a whole new spin on things. Be seeing ya!"

The End

Romance version

Knock at door. Peers through window. Oh wow, thank you god, a handsome wounded tattooed warrior type and he's helpless and knocking on my door. Falls over opening door and dragging him in.

"Can I offer you something to eat, tend your wounds, bath you, me?"

"Why, how kind." Falls in a faint at her feet.

"Oh dear, now I have to undress you myself." Don't look at his naughty bits, don't look... Oh no, I looked...heart flutters dangerously.

Ten minutes later...

"We should have sex."

"Oh no sir, I couldn't possibly."

"Why not?"

"Well...umm....oh go on then."

"Oh, by the way, will you marry me?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

The End.

The moral, if we didn't have version two, we wouldn't have romance novels. And, I might add, the world would be a poorer place.

Alinar Publishing

Alinar Publishing is saying goodbye come October. The site was conceived in 2006 as a self publishing co op, back when there was virtually nowhere an indie author could sell ebooks direct to the public. We intended to keep it open for a couple of years while we tried our luck winning print contracts, and then the indie revolution started up, slowly at first and then with gathering pace. We decided to stay open and keep selling our books at Fictionwise. Amazon Kindle was also building at the same time alongside other platforms like Barnes and Noble Nook and the ibook store. With them came the proprietory ebook readers and the result of that is that most readers now buy for their ereader at the relevant bookstore and we're starting to think that Alinar Publishing might have come to the end of its useful life. Coupled with readers now buying direct to their ereader, there are so many direct sales outlets for indie authors these days that there's simply no need for a personal one. It makes a lot of sense from my point of view as I have to do annual accounts and tax returns, author royalties and run business banking for Alinar. That's all time I could be spending writing. Re evaluating and moving with the times is a hugely positive thing and the remaining Alinar authors all feel they can serve their readers best by putting their efforts ino the platforms most readers buy from. Alinar Publishing did a great job for us when we needed it, but we probably won't be renewing our hosting package come October. Time to move on and get the benefit of all these great selling venues and tools avaible to us indies, now.

I'm proud to think we were pioneers of self publishing in our own little way. And I'm amazed and delighted that self publishing has opened up the way it has and given so many opportunities to so many people. A huge thank you to all our past customers, we wouldn't have kept going so long without your support. Things change, things come to an end and the new takes their place. I'm really pleased to be closing because self publishing has become so successful and accessible. Back when I wrote my first bio as an Alinar author I was talking about our concept and I said, "I think more people will be selling this way in the future. How prophetic were those words? "

Find Your Own Personal Author X Factor

True authorly peace of mind comes when you can be happy for a fellow successful author without wanting to be them or to have what they have. I don't subscribe to the belief that to be successful you need to mirror successful people. That just leaves you never finding out how amazing you could be in your own right. Why not be the best you possible and smile at others being the best of themselves?

I've been on so many courses and seminars that say pick a successful person, do what they do and you'll achieve the same success. That's true to the extent that successful people on the whole tend to do key/universal things that help, but more often than not in following this advice we get caught up in the personality rather than those key things we all ought to be doing. We end up wanting to be that person rather than wanting to do what they do, and they're two very different things. Seems that jealousy is wanting wholesale what the other peson has, without doing the work or putting in the hours. We sit around whinging and saying, why can't that be me, why don't I have that? As if we expect it all to simply fall into our laps just because we think we deserve it. The sad fact is that you can copy all you like and still not gain the success the other person has. Short of working hard, writing lots of good, well produced books in popular genres and letting your audience know they're there, the other bits of the equation are so individual you'll never copy them.

I bought John Locke's book on how to reach an audience of a million but was left at the end with the over riding feeling that yes, it's a system that worked well for him, but even if I wrote similar books on a similar schedule, I'm missing one essential ingredient, which is, I'm not John locke. I don't have his background, his way of thinking. These copy me and you'll get what I got how to books might as well come with a mask of the author to wear, because that's essentially what you're doing. Putting on their mask and trying to be them. The moment I read that book, which implies twitter is the god of all social media, I read of another author who hit the top and hardly tweets or blogs. Goes to show there isn't a magic wand or forumla that will work for us all. Every story is different, every author has their own X factor which is their potential for greatness.

It's up to us to look at ourselves and decide what our personal X factor is and how we can use that to sell books. And I think, instead of casting jealous eyes on others, we need to look at our own books with enough pride to propel us out into the market place with a banner that says, I wrote a great book, too, take a look. What other authors do and achieve helps only in that it might set a trend for a genre or open up a new market place, but really it has very little bearing on our own personal stories. They'll always be ours, made by us. Struck me that another author's personal story could be down to something as individual as the way they look, how they smile or talk.

We've all got our own personal X factors. Find out what that is and you'll be on your way. There's room for us all, no matter how big or small.

The Ruby the Hamster Memorial Ruby Ring



As good a reason as any to indulge my passion for antique rings. Ruby was named by my son, so called because I'd just started collecting when we got her. Thought a nice ruby ring would be the prefect memorial to her so took me off to the local antique mall and lo, there it was, the most beautiful solitaire ruby. But, at the kind of price you really need to step back from for a couple of days so I tore myself away and went into town. Dropped in on my favourite jewellery repairer and vendor of lovely second hand rings. I now embarassingly qualify as one of his special ladies who gets his special discount, I've spent so much in there. So I mentioned in passing I was looking for a nice ruby and he said, I have just the one. Rushed upstairs and came down with this pretty little edwardian ruby and emerald ring he's had for months and couldn't decide what to do with. Do you believe in fate? he says. Well, when it comes to that special ring, of course I do, LOL. He sold it me for the scrap gold value, an absolute bargain and one I couldn't resist. The other was an expensive, statement piece, this one is so hamster....small and dainty, but with presence and so pretty.

I'm having her name engraved inside it, which is a nice thing to do, I think. Hubby cracked me up when I bought it home. I think it was hysterical relief that I'd only spent £35 rather than £350. It's a memorial ring for Ruby, I says. He looks at me and says, deadpan. So, what's your next hamster going to be called...diamond and platinum? Diamond? What a great name for a hamster.... Now to rename the cats, Emerald and Tanzanite. This could be a trend.

Why do we write romance?

Today I found my beloved hamster Ruby dead from old age. She went peacefully in her sleep it seems, which is good, but I'll miss her, small and furry though she was. Small in stature, big on friendship, she was my writing buddy and would keep me company in the conservatory every night while I wrote and she helped by crawling over the keyboard, over me. I hope she'll be waiting at the Rainbow Bridge with all the other pets who've passed over. I'm not an overly sentimental person, but when I lose a pet I always go read the rainbow bridge story, have a good bawl and it's kind of comforting.

So, how does this get us to why we write romance? Well, for me it's the happy ever after. We may drag our characters through all kinds of trauma and angst, but one thing romance proper guarantees is the reward of a happy ending. In romance the story (usually) ends on a high or a rising note. Whatever's in the future, we stop the story at a happy point and leave the reader all fuzzy inside. The last memory of our characters is one of them together, looking to a future. Okay, in a couple of my stories that happy ever after was in the next world, but the important thing is that the characters get one. Life happens with all its ups and downs, but in our stories the characters survive the bumps, not always without cost, and get their kiss under the moon, or walk into their sunset hand in hand. As an author I used to love writing angst, but as I've got older I more and more appreciate the escapism of getting a couple through all that to a place of hope. It doesn't have to end with laughter all the time, as long as it ends with hope.

In my head, Ruby the hamster's story ends with her enjoying a happy middle age, cheek-pouches full of her favourite food, rattling at her cage bars to be let out. Sitting on my shoulder while I type away. I'm a romance author, so that's how I'll remember her. And that's why I like the story of the Rainbow Bridge. It's a story of hope.

Author Shout Out

I've worked with some awesome authors over the past six years of Alinar Publishing so thought I'd give them a shout out. Go check out their latest releases. You won't be disappointed.

Felicity Heaton

Lily Graison

Kallysten

Gayle Eden / Eve Asbury

Jude Johnson

Guest Blogger - Lily Graison

Today I welcome author Lily Graison to talk about her sexy new Willow Creek western series.

Hello! I’m thrilled to be able to stop by Candy's blog on my first ever virtual blog tour. Today,  I want to introduce you to my hero, Colton Avery, from my new novella The Outlaw, book 2 in the Willow Creek Series. I have an exclusive excerpt that lets gives you a small taste of how my bad-boy cowboy thinks.


He had to get away from her. Colt closed his eyes when she shifted again. Her breasts pressed against his back was pure torture. Her hands were like branding irons where they sat against his hips and he’d be damned if he had to endure one more minute of her breathing on the back of his neck. His cock was already so hard it hurt to breathe and having her so close was agony.


Reining the horse to a stop, he threw his leg over the animal’s head and jumped to the ground, walking away without a word. Thank God they still had the forest to escape into. He darted into the shadowed recesses and tried to will his erection away.


They’d ridden half the morning in silence. Good thing. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to carry on a decent conversation with her. Her every word was felt like a living thing against his skin. Ever since seeing her the evening before, standing in that sorry excuse for a stream with her skirt pulled up past her knees, his cock had been hard as a rock.


The sun trickling down through the those trees, bright shafts of light illuminating her and making her hair shine… she’d looked like an angel standing there under those wispy tree branches. He’d wanted to lay her flat on her back, hike those skirts up to her waist, and bury himself inside her the moment she turned to look at him.


“You should have left her behind,” he said to himself, and was immediately disgusted with the thought. Virgil would have seen her, like he had, and taken her. Then where would she be? Dead. Virgil would have used her, handed her off to the others when he’d had his fill, and they would have slit her throat when they were through. He’d heard enough of their stories in the time he’d been riding with them to know. They would have killed her and not thought twice about it.


Stopping by a tree, he leaned his shoulder against it, crossing his arms over his chest. He grimaced when his left arm gave him a twinge of pain. That damn bullet of Virgil’s would cause aggravating aches for the next month.


He should have shot the bastard the moment he had a chance. Setting that gang up hadn’t been as easy as it had been in the past. Just proved the outlaws were getting smarter. Or he was getting too old for this kind of life. One couldn’t take but so many chances before his number came up.


Being shot the year before should have been the sign he’d been looking for but what had he done? Climbed back on his horse the moment he’d healed enough to ride and went looking for the next rowdy bunch of outlaws. He should have stayed at the ranch, helped Holden run the place, found some sweet smelling woman to ease the pains of working a horse ranch all day and been done with it.


Hearing a noise behind him, he turned his head to find Sarah standing at the edge of the woods looking at him. Damn if she wasn’t the finest looking woman he’d set eyes on in ages. He’d seen his fair share of them, too. Had more than he could count in his bed a time or two but none had compared to this one.


The others had been too easy. He flashed them a smile and it took less than a minute to get them to drop their drawers. He didn’t think it would be that easy with her, though. She was different. More refined than the women he associated with. A real lady. And more spirited than any other woman he’d ever met. This one wouldn’t lay down and let a man have his way. No, she’d want things done her way and wouldn’t be afraid to tell him how to do it. He held back a smile at the thought. He’d love to find out.


He groaned inwardly. Thinking like that was what got him in his current state. He needed to get this girl out of his system and fast. Maybe he should just let her know what he wanted. For all he knew she wasn’t as chaste as he imagined her to be. She may actually be as easy as all the others were. Somehow he doubted it but one never knew until they asked, right?

* * * *

Sarah started to ask him if anything was wrong but he turned and started walking back to where she stood. His gaze roamed her body from head to toe before he stopped in front of her. The look on his face made her nervous. His expression was lustful and hungry. Her pulse leaped, butterflies danced in her stomach, and she licked her lips as her mouth became suddenly dry. He groaned when she did, mumbled a curse under his breath and reached up, cupping her face in his hands, and kissed her. Her shocked gasp offered him entrance into her mouth and he wasted no time slipping his tongue in to taste her.


She went limp at the first flick of his tongue against her own, her body swaying toward him, and Colt wrapped his arms around her, angled his head and took everything he wanted. She was slow to reciprocate but when she did, sliding her tongue against his, his hold on her tightened, his mouth harder and more urgent.


The one kiss she’d had from William had been all lips, wet and messy, and she’d prayed the entire time it lasted that it would end sooner rather than later. This kiss… she never imagined it would be like this.


Colt tasted faintly of whiskey, his scent tickled her senses and she inhaled it, memorizing it before tentatively placing her hands at his waist. His hold on her tightened, that wicked tongue teasing and dipping until tingles raced down her limbs, causing tiny zaps of pleasure that left her weak and light headed. Small sounds escaped her throat, her breaths panted out as he fisted her hair in his hand, angling her head the way he wanted. He sucked her bottom lip into his mouth, teased it with his teeth before his tongue once again invaded her mouth with rapid plunges, the whiskers from his growing beard rasping against the flesh around her mouth until her face felt lit with fire.


She wrapped her arms around his waist, leaned against him and mimicked him, kissing him with a growing hunger that left her dazed and pleasantly warm.


He let her go suddenly, holding her at arms length. They were both breathing heavily and Sarah was stunned when he turned and walked away, back to where the horse was, without saying a word. He stood there for long moments before turning his head to look over his shoulder. “Let’s go, sweetheart. We need to keep going.”


It took her longer than it should have to catch her breath, even longer to make her body react. She crossed the distance, staring at his back, and stopped when he turned to face her. The lustful look was still on his face and something she couldn’t even put a name on lurked in his eyes. It caused those butterflies to dance again. His gaze roamed her face, stopping on her kiss swollen lips before rising to her eyes. Sarah blinked at him and shook her head. “Why did you kiss me?”


He gave her a sudden, lazy smile. “So I’d stop thinking about doing it.” He reached for her, wrapping his hands around her waist and lifted her to the horse. He put her in the saddle this time and climbed in behind her. She wiggled her bottom to give him more room and gasped when his arm clamped around her waist and he pulled her back into his chest, his head lowering until his breath was warm against her ear. “And if you don’t stop wiggling that ass around on me I’m going to do everything else I can’t stop thinking about, too.”

The Outlaw by Lily Graison
Book 2 in the Willow Creek Series


Sarah Hartford always dreamed of a grand adventure. She just never expected to find it in the arms of an outlaw.

When her father’s bank is robbed, Sarah doesn't make the gunslingers’ escape easy. Putting her own safety behind those she hopes to protect backfires when she’s kidnapped by one of the escaping men. Now her only hope for survival lies with the same arrogant man who laughed at her while staring down the barrel of her gun.

Colton Avery spent months planning the perfect heist, every detail fine tuned and executed with precise timing. Nothing could go wrong. That is until he comes face to face with a determined woman holding a shotgun. She aimed at his head and never flinched when she took a shot at him. He wanted her the moment the smoke cleared and he saw her face.

Robbing the bank, and handing over the gang of notorious outlaws to US Marshals, would be routine and boring. Sarah Hartford made it anything but. Taming the woman who stole his heart the instant he saw her was a challenge he was more than willing to take on. All he has to do now is escape the gang of outlaws he just double-crossed, hideout from an Indian raiding party and elude the town marshal who just happens to be his little hellion’s new fiancé.



To read the entire first chapter and find purchase links, visit Lily's website at http://lilygraison.com/



You can also find her around the web at the following locations.

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/authorLilyGraison

Twitter: https://twitter.com/#!/LilyGraison

GoodReads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1879747.Lily_Graison

Writing Bits and Bobs

I'm in that strange writing limbo you enter when you've just finished a long novel. A series in this case since the two Lords of the Dark Fall books pretty much intertwined. I've been with Fabian and Tig, Marcellus and Cassandra for nearly a year, now. Once the humungous edits are done, (220 K words as they stand, now.) I'll be moving on to writing my Alexandra Marell Italian Island mystical/contemp series and the Candy Nicks Cirque Demonica. I'm going for novellas and short novels this year to increase my back catalogue and to get regular realeases out there. I'm a slow writer and long novels like the Dark Fall novels put me out of the release loop for longer than I'd like. To give me a break from the text before editing, I'm reading through Something Worth Fighting For, which for some odd reason I never released on Amazon, Smashwords etc. and getting that into distribution. Can't decide whether to re release Setting Him Free, too. That got great reviews first time around, a rec read reviewers pick on Love Romances, which probably means it should be out there in the world rather than a free read. My Alexandra Marell catalogue is looking a bit thin right now. Will be nice to get back to writing a few more Alex style stories (different only from Candy for less graphic sex and genre, the tone is very similar).

So, on to editing. I'l be seeing double by the time I get to the end of this lot. Hope to have the Dark Fall books out very soon, now.

Latest Read - The Greatcoat by Helen Dunmore

 

Blurb

In the winter of 1952, Isabel Carey moves to the East Riding of Yorkshire with her husband Philip, a GP. With Philip spending long hours on call, Isabel finds herself isolated and lonely as she strives to adjust to the realities of married life.

Woken by intense cold one night, she discovers an old RAF greatcoat hidden in the back of a cupboard. Sleeping under it for warmth, she starts to dream. And not long afterwards, while her husband is out, she is startled by a knock at her window.

Outside is a young RAF pilot, waiting to come in.

His name is Alec, and his powerful presence both disturbs and excites her. Her initial alarm soon fades, and they begin an intense affair. But nothing has prepared her for the truth about Alec's life, nor the impact it will have on hers ...

Thoughts

It certainly gripped me, I read it in on sitting and didn't want it to end. The ending was a little ambiguous, but Helen Dunmore is one of our finest literary authors so I went into the read expecting fine and subtle writing rather than obvious horror and gore. Didn't make the hairs on my neck prickle like Barbara Erskine can, but I loved it as much for the writing and use of words as the story. The depiction of early fifties Britain still struggling with the after effects of the war were superb as was the way the past and present meshed and intertwined through the story. Heroine was possibly a little too accepting of what was happening, but the twist at the end was good, even if it didn't resolve everything neatly. It's the kind of story that leaves the readers having to think on afterwards and I think that suits the genre. Ghost stories lose something if you're not left thinking, what happened there? Or what if....

This was a library lend and I'm buying my own copy just to study the prose. It's one of Hammer's new imprints of horror/ghost stories they're also making into films, I believe. I can imagine actually a film of this book would be a lot creepier than reading it. And yes, that is the Hammer House of Horror, of the cheesy fifties and sixties vampire horror films. Anyone remember the friday night late night horrors that used to be on? All vincent price and twins of evil who looked like swedish models?

Friday 56

About the Friday 56

• Grab the book nearest you. Right now
• Turn to page 56.
• Find the fifth sentence.
• Post that sentence (plus one or two others if you like) along with these instructions on your blog or (if you do not have your own blog) in the comments section of this blog.
• Post a link along with your post back to this blog.
• Don’t dig for your favorite book, the coolest, the most intellectual. Use the CLOSEST.

This is from The Shadowy Horses by Susanna Kearsley an author I highly recommend if you like stories that blend the past and present in the style of Mary Stewart and Barbara Erskine.

Blurb

With its dark legends and passionate history, the windswept shores of Scotland are an archaeologist's dream. Verity Grey is thrilled by the challenge of uncovering an ancient Roman campsite in a small Scottish village. But as soon as she arrives, she can sense danger in the air.
Her eccentric boss, Peter Quinnell, has spent his whole life searching for the resting place of the lost Ninth Roman Legion and is convinced he's finally found it -- not because of any scientific evidence, but because a local boy has 'seen' a Roman soldier walking in the fields, a ghostly sentinel who guards the bodies of his long-dead comrades. Surprisingly, Verity believes in Peter, and the boy, and even in the Sentinel, who seems determined to become her own protector...but from what?

Page 56, line 5 (and a little more)

Davind Fortune chose to let the comment pass. He hiked a straight-backed chair closer to the bed, inviting me to sit down and settled himself on the edge of young Robbie's bed. I think miss Grey would like to ken what part you played in bringing Mr Quennell here to Rosehill.


Now its your turn! Grab a book and post your 56. If you don't have a blog, just post yours in the comments.

I saw the Friday 56 over at Lily Graison's blog. Be sure to visit and read her 56.)