My goodness, you look plumb tuckered out by the heat. Come on over here and have a seat. I’ve got some raspberry mint tea here that will fix you right up. You must have been down to the Santa Rita Reunion. We got a fine crowd for the festival this year. Glad you could make it. Here, let me move that sewing box out of your way. I’ve just been finishing up a dress for my great neice Linda Lou. It’s for her first high school dance at the end of the month. Not much like the dresses I made for her mom back when I was a full time seamstress, I’ll tell you. Why, this one is little more than a back and a front, no glamour to it, not by my way of thinking. Now those dresses back when I was a girl, they took some time and some skill from a seamstress. All the pleats, tucks, trim and finishing. And the fabrics we were working with–silk taffeta, organdie, voile, and lace, my word, the lace we used.

Of course not every dress was all that frilly. The slim little pencil skirts, the sheath dresses, they were pretty tailored affairs, but they still took somebody with a nimble needle to put them together. Girls took a lot of pride in dressing nice, even if they were  just running down to the Luke’s Drug Store for a soda. For a soda date they’d probably be in one of those cute poodle skirts and a sweater. My mama must have made enough poodle skirts to go all the way around Texas if they were stretched out side by side because she made one for all my friends. Every young girl had to have one. They were made out of felt, you know, and had to be a full circle around. Pretty heavy once they were all trimmed up, too. Wasn’t just the poodle appliqued on the front, no that was just the base for the rest. The poodle had to have a rhinestone collar and leash. Then we’d put ribbons on the ears and tail, sprinkle some sequins and beads over the whole thing, maybe add a little bell on the collar, too. No, it was more than just a skirt, each one was special and unique to the girl wearing it.

Blue jeans were something farm hands and young boys wore until the girls latched on to them. Suddenly prim young ladies became dungaree dolls, borrying their brothers’ jeans and their dad’s long tailed shirts. Not that any girl wore such garb on a date or out where her fella might see her. No, if she wore any kind of pants, maybe for a picnic or a sporting event, she’d wear capri pants or toreadors, tight as new paint, with a pretty shirt or blouse.

Girls wore whatever underpinnings were necessary, too. I’d just bet Linda Lou doesn’t even own a petticoat, much less a merry widow bra, waist cincher, girdle, or even a pair of stockings. And thinking about the layers we wore, including about a bushel of petticoats, I can’t say I’d care to try it now, myself.

Our Miss Fleeta Cunningham came over to get some background on those clothes of the 50’s for her new book ELOPEMENT FOR ONE. Seems she was telling all about the nice style show our Troy put on for the historical society when she first came here. Brought it all back to me, how Troy ran off from that big society wedding in Dallas and wound up here in Santa Rita. She didn’t have the least notion what to do with herself, but when the historical society found out she’d grown up in the fashion industry, why they knew just what to do with her. That show was a humdinger. Our Troy learned some things about herself too. She believed she was a complete coward for running off like that but she learned that she could face her fears. She had some bad things she had to deal with, including her dad and that man she left behind. Along the way she found a real home and a new life here in Santa Rita. I’d all but forgot that till Miss Fleeta got me to talking about that style show. There’s a nice descrjption of it in her book.  The story’s  got a nasty villian, a good looking hero, and not one or two, but three, yes, three engagements worked into the tale. But Miss Fleeta will probably want to tell you more about that.

Let me get you some more raspberry mint tea and when you’re cooled off a little more, I’ll take you round to the back and show you my roses. They’re doing real well this year. And maybe you’d like a jar of my mint face cream. It’s real good for a sunburned nose.  Just sit a spell while I get your tea. 

                                                                               ******

Thanks for spreading the word about ELOPEMENT FOR ONE, Lucy. I couldn’t have told the story without your help.  I did enjoy learning Troy’s story and seeing how she found her way out of a really scary mess. The book is available from Wild Rose Press, the on-line book stores, and my website, www.fleetacunningham.com on September 10.

My friend Lucy was talking about the style show scene. I’m going to put a bit of that scene here so you can hear  more about Troy and her troubles. Please enjoy. And I love to hear from you, so don’t be shy about writing back.

                     Elopement for One

 Piece by piece the show came together. The models found their props, located their entrances, and retreated to the makeshift dressing room to  dress.Troy caught a brief glimpse of Zach, tried to get to him to return his key, but found he’d gone before she could make contact, and went back to addressing minor confusion. She gradually became aware of the people filling the chairs around the white and lavender tables. A clink of punch cups and low chatter created background that sounded excited and promising. Tucking away the flurry of nerves that had given birth to a batch of butterflies in her abdomen, Troy gazed out at the crowd. A good turnout, in fact an excellent one, given that the weather report promised dampness and possibly heavy fog later in the evening.

The trio of musicians in the corner struck up a swirling waltz, people began to quieten, and the house lights dimmed. Troy gathered up her much lined and crossed out script and headed for the podium. She’d never narrated a show like this, but she’d been the jill-of-all-trades for enough of them to have a good feel for the business. She took her place, switched on the small light over the speaker’s stand, and waited a moment. The audience went silent, the music fell to a whisper, and she looked out into the shadows waiting.

“Good evening and thank you for coming to revisit the days of Belles, Boas, and Bebop. Tonight we celebrate the fads and fashions that have gone before and led us to the modern glamour of mid-twentieth century.” She glanced at the musicians, nodded, and they let the shimmering waltz fill the air. “We begin with a gown suitable for the cotillions and quadrilles dear to our grandmothers and their beaus.”

Once the show was underway, Troy found her narration flowed easily. The models, inexperienced though they were, managed hoops, bustles, and hobble skirts with grace. The musicians kept up with the cues, changing tempo from the waltz to ragtime and jazz without stumbling. Troy did notice how effervescent Zarah looked in the jade green fringed flapper dress with its headpiece of curled ostrich feathers. In the second half of the program, she returned to take the stage in an elegant post war New Look evening gown of black chiffon and beige lace. We’re coming into the last sequence. Breathing easier, Troy moved her script over and pulled out the last pages, the ones she’d had to revise at the last moment to make up for the missing model. As she glanced up, she saw Zach sitting in the far corner, all but invisible in the shadows. He’d come to see her show. A soaring lift of pride filled Troy’s heart. I made a good job of it and Zach was here to see it. Maybe there’s hope. Maybe he’ll see I can be my own person.

Elated by the one glimpse she had of the smile on his face, Troy sailed into the final sequence of presentations. The music changed to current hits beginning with ‘Rock Around the Clock’ and a bevy of teenage girls in fluffy petticoats, circular skirts and peasant blouses sipping Cokes and giggling. Each took a turn around the footlights to show off dainty details. As they left the stage, an older group in fitted cocktail gowns and bouffant party dresses entered to ‘Memories Are Made of This’. They paraded by ones and twos to let the viewers get a closer look. Then music faded and the lights softened as four young women in peach chiffon and picture hats posed between the slightly parted drapes. ‘Love Is a Many Splendored Thing’ swelled through the audience and the young women paced across the stage to pose, two to each side, on the stage steps. As the music hit a shimmering crescendo, Zarah stepped from behind the curtains, radiant in ivory tulle and beaded lace, the essence of a blushing bride. Though the dress was not Zarah’s own, not the one she’d wear for her Christmas wedding, Troy was certain that her friend could never look lovelier than she did in the borrowed gown, a band of silk roses holding trailing mists of veiling, and an ethereal smile lighting her face. The crowd seemed to agree as a storm of applause greeted her and all but overwhelmed the music.                                     

At last the applause subsided, and though the show was over, people seemed slow to leave. Troy found herself surrounded by people who wanted to congratulate her or ask about a particular dress, or share stories about the original owners of the gowns and where they’d been worn. She appreciated the enthusiasm but longed to pry off her high heels, clear away the aftermath of the event, and most of all, find dinner. She hadn’t been able to eat before the show, a combination of nerves and lost time making that impossible, and now she felt ready to gnaw on the greenery of the centerpieces. Still she had to be sure everything was put away, all garments returned to their protective bags, and the Opera House left as it was before the show.

“Do we really have to fold up all the tables?” one harried young stage assistant whined. “I mean, we’ll just have to get them out again.”

“The floor can’t be mopped unless the tables are put away,” Troy reminded the girl, patiently prodding to get the job underway. “We agreed to leave the theater just like we found it.”

“Yeah, maybe,” the girl murmured but moved the tables and began mopping.

Little by little, with constant encouragement and coaching, Troy got her helpers to clear the area and restore order to the theater. She could feel her damp tendrils of hair escape from the anchoring pins. Her dress, now limp and clinging, hampered her movements and the black pumps with their stiletto heels gouged into feet that felt as if red-hot wires were just under the skin.

                                          After the show is over and Troy is alone…..

The pages of her script had scattered around the speaker’s podium during the program, some fluttering to the floor, some dropping into the space inside. Troy started to crumple the sheets and toss them into the trash bin at the end of the stage but caution stopped her hand. She’d worked hard on that script and in the end it was all she had of the show. Her show, her production, and she had invested a lot of herself in making it happen. She couldn’t keep any part of the home she’d made for Zach but she could have the memory of this show and the script to hold on to. Troy gathered up the loose pages and began arranging them in order. Her stomach rumbled reminding her that her heart wasn’t the only part of her suffering. She needed dinner and she needed it soon.

The last of her pages were loose on the shelf of the podium. She drew them together and noticed the forgotten candy box. A gift for one of the girls in the show, she remembered. No one asked about it and she hadn’t thought to take it out and see if anyone claimed it. Troy pulled it out with her own papers. Expensive, a box tied with pretty ribbon, and a brand that didn’t come off the drug store shelf, she noted. Her stomach rumbled again and she shrugged. I’ll ask around tomorrow and apologize but tonight it just may give me energy enough to get me home.

Troy unfastened the ribbon and opened the silvery paper. As she did a tiny card slipped out of the intricate bow. She held it a moment and realized it had her name on it.

How sweet. Someone, Zach maybe, thought of me, meant to wish me good luck, but got the card in so well that we didn’t see it. But a chocolate is just what I need right now.

Carefully Troy unfastened the fancy paper and lifted the lid. Expecting to see crimped paper cups and fancy little candies, she stopped. She stared at the contents, hypnotically reaching for the smaller container inside the candy carton. Square, grey, a velvet box nested in the tissue paper inside. Certain she knew what it held, Troy lifted the elegant parcel and forced herself to open it. The contents glittered in the dim light. Troy stared at it in fascination. The last time she’d seen this platinum banded jewel was the moment she took it from her hand, returned it to the box, and left it on the dressing table at the church. She closed her eyes against its cold glitter. Swallowing the sour taste that rose in her throat, Troy pushed the ring box aside. A second card slipped from under the tissue as she pushed the box away. Heart thudding, barely breathing, she pulled the card free and opened it.

Of course you’re going to pay for humiliating me. Put the ring on and come back where you belong. I will go a little easier on you. You know you can’t run away from me.

As many of you may know, the RWA National Conference was supposed to take place in Nashville, TN this year.  Due to catastrophic flooding, the conference had to be moved to Orlando, FL.  I am amazed that not only was the conference moved, but it went off without a hitch.  Hats off to RWA for this.

The 2010 RWA Conference will always be special to me.  It is a motivational and inspiring event, where writers, agents, editors, librarians, and other publishing professionals come together.  I say this year was a special one because I met and signed with an agent.  What a magical moment.  About two weeks before RWA, I contacted her and she liked my writing.  Then we set up a meeting at the conference.  Just as I arrived home, I got “the call.”   I still pinch myself to make sure I’m not dreaming.

Another wonderful thing about going to the conference was attending the Goddess party hosted by a wonderful group of writers:  Karen Hawkins, Karen Rose, Suzanne Enoch, and Madeline Hunter.  See my ti-ar-a?

Susan Elizabeth Phillips and Jayne Ann Krentz were wonderful speakers, and their workshops were informative.  I never fail to learn something extremely important when I attend Nationals.  This year, I found I am more of a “plotster,” which is someone who is in between being a “pantser” and a “plotter.”  For instance, I like to have some idea of where I am going, but let my characters find their way there all on their own.

The Awards Ceremony was a lovely event.  There were a lot of happy tears, as usual.

I highly recommend this conference and look forward to attending next year in New York!  Have you ever attended Nationals?  If so, what was your favorite memory?

~Tiffany

www.tiffanygreen.net

Warrior archetype heroes are among the most popular these days, especially in paranormal romance. They’re tough, protective, alpha, and have a take-no-prisoners attitude. They stand up for what they believe in and have an unshakable code of honor. Why do women love them so much? I think it’s because we’d all love to be protected and taken care of by one of these guys. He’s an expert at what he does. He’s fought before and won, and he has the scars to prove it.   Add a cursed or dark dimension to his personality (perhaps a touch of the lost soul archetype) and we have a hero who is even more intense, more determined to accomplish what he wants, more driven to get the bad guy and take the lady for himself. If only he can allow himself to have her. Maybe deep down he feels unworthy or like he’d only frighten her away if she knew his true self. If she knew where he’s been or what he’s seen, she might not be so enthusiastic about trying to break down the wall around his heart. She shines a light into the dark night of his existence. She can make him see there is hope. Maybe someone can love him unconditionally, cursed side and all.   We love this guy because we see the vulnerability he hides beneath his stone wall- like shell. We know he deserves love more than most and we want to see him acquire it.   In my latest release, (a paranormal historical erotic romance) Beast in a Kilt in Secrets Volume 29 Indulge Your Fantasies, Torr is a cursed Highland warrior who believes he isn’t worthy of innocent Lady Catriona. At night he’s a water demon, a kelpie shapeshifter who believes he could never make her happy. But she’s determined to prove him wrong. She’s loved him for a long time and intends to have him… forever, no matter what her mother or clan think. And no matter that she’s been promised to someone else.   Do you love the cursed warrior type heroes or some other type? Please share!

Sexy excerpt: http://mysite.ncnetwork.net/restljm7/nicolenorth2/id18.html

Buy link

http://www.amazon.com/Secrets-Indulge-Fantasies-Satisfy-Desire/dp/1603100091/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1281472188&sr=8-1

Nicole North’s erotic romance novellas have been described by reviewers as “exciting, high octane, captivating, scintillating, sinfully delicious and pure romance.” Her stories contain “heart and heat, killer love scenes, magic and extraordinary characters.” Her latest release from Red Sage, a paranormal historical, Beast in a Kilt, is in the Secrets Volume 29 Indulge Your Fantasies anthology. Her last story, Kilted Lover, is contemporary erotic romance novella with a touch of paranormal. Her first story, Devil in a Kilt is in the anthology Secrets Volume 27 Untamed Pleasures. Her works have finaled in over a dozen writing competitions and won several awards. She is a member of Romance Writers of America and three chapters. She teaches online workshops about various aspects of writing, including sexual tension and how to write great love scenes. Though she has a degree in psychology, writing romance is her first love. She and her husband live in the Southeastern US, but she wishes she lived in the Scottish Highlands at least half the year.
My website: www.nicolenorth.com

My newsletter: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/nicolenorthnewsletter/

Twitter http://twitter.com/NicoleNorth

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/nicolenorth1

Join us tomorrow, August 24th, when this month’s full moon guest blogger, Nicole North, will be here! Nicole is well known for the great on-line workshops she presents, and for writing spicy romance. If you’ve been longing to ask Nicole a question, here’s your chance! We hope  you’ll join in on the fun!

But which one should the coachman bring?  Anyone who spends time reading the pages of historical romances comes across terms like ‘high-perch phaeton’, ‘barouche’, ‘curricle’, or ‘berlin’.  Never mind transportation like the mail coach and hansom cabs.

I wrote scenes in coaches or carriages in both TO BE SEDUCED and my March 2011 release, HER SCOTTISH GROOM.  I think it’s because of the amount of time I spent ferrying my daughters to and fro when they were kids.  My girls and I have had a lot of thoughtful conversations in our vehicles over the years.  And from a writer’s point of view, it’s fun to sit your hero and heroine down in the confined space of a coach and see how they react to one another.

In the day and age of climate-controlled automobiles  complete with the music and even the movies of your choice, it’s easy to forget just how uncomfortable travel in a horse-drawn vehicle could be.  Coaches used either chains or leather straps to suspend the body above the axle and minimize jolts and bumps, but that didn’t help much on a bad road.  No wonder the heroine of my first book became ill from the motion!

Bethany’s motion-sickness came from the swaying and rattling of a heavy coach of the 1660s.  By the late 1800s, springs had improved and the best carriages were coveted status symbols.   One of the most popular, especially for taking the air in Hyde Park, was the barouche, pictured above.  These open carriages could be two-wheeled, but the four-wheeled version allowed two to four passengers to see their surroundings…and more important, allowed them to be seen.  However, if a foursome happened to get caught int the rain, the two unfortunates placed behind the coachman’s box had nothing to protect them.

A near relation of the barouche was a landau, built for four passengers to sit two on a side, facing each other, but with the addition of a second hood that could be raised in inclement weather.

Phaetons and curricles were the equivalent of sports cars: light, small, meant to be raced.  Curricles were especially prone to accidents; considering their light construction, that doesn’t strike me as too surprising.   By the way, curricles weren’t considered improper vehicles for a woman to ride in during the 19^th century.  Being an open carriage, her reputation was far better protected than if she entered a closed carriage alone with a man.

Mind you, a lady driving a ‘sporting carriage’ would raise eyebrows.  In honor of fast women and dangerous rides, I’d like to conclude with this print, showing that even when horsepower was measured in 2 or 4 instead of 450, women wanted an exciting ride.  These two racy ladies are tooling along in a high perch phaeton, which could be considered something like the Corvette of the Regency Era.

To be honest, I think I am definitely a barouche kind of girl who’d enjoy a pleasant ride protected from the sun by my parasol as I gossiped with my best friend.  What about you?  Do you see yourself in a luxurious landau or a fast curricle?

Are you a TORTOISE or a HARE?

The Tortoise and The Hare

There once was a speedy hare who bragged about how fast he could run. Tired of hearing him boast, Slow and Steady, the tortoise, challenged him to a race.

All the animals in the forest gathered to watch.

Hare ran down the road for a while and then paused to rest. He looked back at Slow and Steady and cried out, “How do you expect to win this race when you are walking along at your slow, slow pace?”

Hare stretched himself out alongside the road and fell asleep, thinking, “There is plenty of time to relax.”

Slow and Steady walked and walked. He never, ever stopped until he came to the finish line.

The animals who were watching cheered so loudly for Tortoise, they woke up Hare.

Hare stretched and yawned and began to run again, but it was too late. Tortoise was over the line.

After that, Hare always reminded himself, “Don’t brag about your lightning pace, for Slow and Steady won the race!”

~

I’m sure everyone’s heard this story several times, but it’s a fable I never let myself forget. Why, you ask? Well, even though the famous Aesop wrote this fable a few years before I was born, I feel he penned this lesson just for me. You see, I have to make sure I always, always, always, take my example from the tortoise. NOT the hare.

Allow me to give you MY “WRITER’S” interpretation of The Tortoise and The Hare.

There once was a speedy writer who bragged that she could procrastinate until the last minute, then write non-stop into the wee hours of the night to finish her manuscript. Tired of hearing Hare boast, Slow and Steady, the tortoise, challenged her to a race.

All the other writers in the chapter gathered to watch.

Hare stayed on schedule for a while and then paused to rest. Hare looked back at Slow and Steady and cried out, “How do you expect to win this race when you are writing at your slow, steady pace?”

Hare got caught up in all the daily non-writing things, thinking, “There is plenty of time to finish my manuscript.”

Slow and Steady wrote a little on her manuscript every day. She never, ever stopped until she came to the “happily ever after” and wrote “The End”.

The other writers who were watching cheered so loudly for Tortoise, they woke up Hare.

Hare stretched and yawned and began to write again, but it was too late. Tortoise was done with her manuscript.

After that, Hare always reminded herself, “Don’t brag about your binge writing, for Slow and Steady won the race!”

~

Are you a binge writer? A writer who procrastinates as long as she can, goes day after day without writing because writing is hard and it takes a lot of sacrifice and self discipline, then races toward the finish line and prays she makes it in time? Or, are you the slow and steady writer who sets small goals every day, and meets them?

For some of you, being a Hare works. Perhaps you write better – faster – under pressure. Or maybe the writing-free days you gain by binge writing are more valuable to you than “having” to write every day. If this works for you, stay with it!

However, I have to be a Tortoise. I have to write every day. I have to build my story on a daily basis without being under pressure. I can’t allow myself to go days without writing because those days soon turn into weeks. And the weeks soon become months. And the months, an unproductive year.

Being a Tortoise works for me. What works for you? I’d love to hear whether you’re a Tortoise or a Hare! And why!

Laura Landon

And for my family that means hectic days this week. So please forgive me if my blog is a little on the short side this time.

I love fair time. I grew up loving the county fair. But now that my kids are getting older it also means we’re more involved in fair festivities than I have been for a long time.

Well . . . since I was kid. Every year I showed my horse, worked all year to prepare for that one day, raided the garden for vegetables and flowers to enter, and I took my best  art work. It was always fun and a thrill to see how I did, especially if I’d managed to earn a blue ribbon or two!

Now, my kids are getting the chance to experience the excitement and fun of the fair by showing their horses, going on rides, and seeing their friends. The bonus is, I get to relive it, too! To me, the county fair is the ultimate symbol of our rural and agricultural way of life we love so much. It’s calves bellowing in the barn, horses filling the arena, and the summer’s garden bounty proudly displayed for all to see. It’s the bright and colorful lights of the carnival, and fun foods that you don’t normally eat any where else, or at any other time of the year. A personal favorite of mine are funnel cakes!

The county fair means 4-H, sewing projects, preserves, and a batch of brownies arranged on a plate. It’s concerts, rodeo, pedal tractor pulls, and politicians looking for votes. Wow! The fair has so much to offer.

But for a writer it has even more to offer. It has atmosphere. The colors, noise, smells, and the events all add to an atmosphere that is uniquely county fair. As a writer I can draw on that atmosphere to create what we call “sense memories.” It’s these sense memories that makes a writer’s voice stand out and unique, and hopefully evokes emotions in readers.  Someday I’ll blog more about sense memories!

The county fair also has people. Lots of people. People who can help me with my characterization. I can sit quietly for a few moments and observe people talking, how they walk, and interact with each other. And I can speculate what their story is. Is the guy walking the midway all by himself looking to meet up with a buddy? Or is he unlucky in love and without a date? Is he a stalker and quietly watching the affection of his heart from a distance? Okay, I’ll stop there! I think you’re getting an idea of how a writer’s mind works. We’re always paying attention to details. Details that can come in real handy when we’re writing everything from action scenes to love scenes, to developing both internal and external conflicts.

So what are your memories of the county fair? Does it bring back memories of a first date? Blue or purple ribbons? Eating too much? Or days when you were young and carefree? Let me hear from you!  I’ll try to be here with you as much as I can today, but when I’m absent for a while you’ll know I’m either at the pedal tractor pull this afternoon, or the junior rodeo tonight! And if you have a chance to take in a county or state fair this year, I hope you do.

Until next time,

Sherry

Hi all,
Thanks to all of you who left your research site suggestions. I really appreciate you sharing your favorite research sites with me. The winner of the free ebook is Cara Bristol. Thanks for sharing those two great research sites. The CIA site would be excellent for country information and the popular names collection is really cool.

Cara – to receive your prize – visit my web site and go to “Contact me” page to send me an email.

Research…I love it. I admit it. But not everyone shares my enthusiasm for diving into books and surfing the internet to get the information needed to take a book’s setting to the next level.

In October, Cris Anson and I will be presenting a workshop at Romanticon in Ohio and I’m really looking forward to it. I’m hoping to share some tips and tricks for research with the attendees. There are a lot of things to know when an author begins research for the next book. For example, I define research really broadly. It’s any background information needed before a writer gets started or as they write their book.

Typically, most of us think about reseach as something you do before you write an historical romance. After all, none of us have lived in Regency England or during the U.S. Civil War. So to get information about those time periods, a writer has to learn about that era to make it live and breathe for the reader. Well, it isn’t just in historicals that research is crucial to a good story.

Say you’ve lived all your life in Iowa (like I have) but you wish to set your novel in contemporary San Francisco…or Denver…or wherever. You have limited options. A writer can travel (which would be my preference) or utilize books, web sites or talk to friends who live there. The best way to go is all of the above, but you do what you can.

When you’re diving into books or surfing the web though, a writer can be tripped up by a lack of authority in what they find.  Authority can be defined in a lot of ways – but what I mean is that a researcher should know who authored the information she’s using AND the qualifications of that resource’s author to offer their information as fact.

As a librarian, people expect me to view Wikipedia with disdain. I don’t. It’s an incredibly useful tool and a great starting point. However, I would always tell someone who is doing research that starting with Wikipedia is fine – just don’t STOP there. Get a second source that agrees with the site. Also, there are web sites created by individuals or groups of individuals who don’t necessarily have fancy degrees after their names. These sites are NOT bad or suspect sites – but they do lack some authority so cross reference wherever possible.

For example, if you are looking for information about medieval heraldry or medieval names, check out Modar’s Heraldry Page. Modar’s heraldry page (and its sub pages) are published by a friend of mine whose SCA name is Modar Neznanich. I know him. I trust him. So I trust his page and I would happily recommend it to others. This is a case where an individual has the credibility to offer research assistance to others.

If someone was looking for medieval names, I’d send them to the Academy of St. Gabriel web site. The Academy isn’t a university – it is a group of historical enthusiasts who research names. If they say it’s so, I’d take their recommendation to the bank. However, other research is useful too. I use the The Oxford Dictionary of English Christian Names by E.G. Withycombe and A Dictionary of English Surnames by P.H. Reaney as additional resources when it comes to naming my medieval characters.

So the point of my post is that I’m attempting to compile a useful list of URLs for research. What is YOUR favorite research web site? What’s the authority behind it? Leave a comment with your favorite research site here and from those that offer a useful web site (and yes, I’ll check the URL!) – I’ll choose a winner for your choice of my novels in ebook format. So PLEASE help me out. I’ll be most grateful, as will your writing colleagues at Romanticon.  You have through the weekend – I’ll announce the winner on Monday, August 2.

Thanks to all the Authors By Moonlight for welcoming me to this neat blog! My first Spice Brief releases on August 1, 2010, and I’m really excited to talk about what I hope is a hot, emotional read.

That said, it’s a tough story to talk about, for a couple of reasons. First, it’s got a bit of a twist at the end, nothing ultra-shocking, just a different way of looking at a fairly standard erotic romance trope: the hookup. The other reason is that it’s written in first person POV so we’re inside the heroine’s head the whole time, and not once did I find it necessary for the hero, Jack, to use the heroine’s name.

Let’s face it, unless we’re Bob Dole, we don’t often think of our names or refer to ourselves in the third person. My husband only uses my name if he’s introducing me to someone, or if I’m in a boatload of trouble, ie: a big box from Amazon arrives just after a big box from Zappos.com and I’ve eaten all the chocolate chips he intended to use in cookies. I certainly don’t go around thinking, “Now, Anne, let’s get to the grocery store or there won’t be any dinner for the family.” I don’t think that anyway. As my friend Julie Miller says, there’s a magic window at McDonalds through which I hand my credit card and from which I receive food. Or something passing for food.

Long story short, I don’t think of my name often, and the heroine in this story didn’t either. She’s too caught up in what she’s doing, with whom, and why, to think of something as superfluous as her name. So…she doesn’t have a name. In hindsight this may not have been my best writing choice. It’s hard to talk about a story with a nameless heroine.

Despite the heroine’s namelessness, she’s in the middle of a very emotional, very powerful situation. On the surface it looks like Jack’s giving her sex, but he’s really giving her something more subtle (I hope) she desperately needs to feel alive. I don’t want to go into too much more detail, so let’s turn it over to the readers. What do you do that makes you feel alive? It can be naughty (and anonymously posted) – a night with a handsome near-stranger that gets your adrenaline pumping and your senses singing – or it can be as simple as a cup of coffee and the paper before everyone else wakes up. Share your responses in the comments, and thanks for stopping by Authors By Moonlight!

To learn more about Anne visit www.annecalhoun.com, where you’ll find an excerpt from WHAT SHE NEEDS (available August 1, 2010 from Spice Briefs) and information about my current release, LIBERATING LACEY (EPIC Award Winner for Best Contemporary Erotic Romance).