SUCCESS

When I was a schoolgirl, success meant having good grades, scoring well in gym and sports, or doing a double pirouette in ballet, and finally being accepted in the college of my dreams.

Later on, success meant being popular, attracting the guy I wanted, dating, falling in love and marrying him.

Success meant studying hard and graduating with a B.S, M.S and later a Ph.D.

Success meant struggling to get a job, being disciplined and learning companies’ policies, coping with good or bad coworkers, working hard and competing.

Success meant juggling family life and career. Raising kids, being a good mother and wife, without missing a day at work. Providing quality time for the children while working late hours.

Success meant being there for my children when they were sick, hurt, in need of special help, protecting them from dangerous situations, giving them good examples, valuable advice without pushing them away with overwhelming expectations.

Am I describing my dreams? Or the reality I fought so hard to achieve?

And once I achieved the above, the goals changed.

Success is writing a book, winning contests, getting requests for partial or full manuscripts, overcoming rejection, persevering, landing a contract.

Success is being published, living through the release of a book, holding my book in my hands, garnering good reviews.

[In this picture, my mother is holdong my first book, TO LOVE A HERO]

Success is selling more and more books, receiving fans’ letters, autographing my books.

Is that enough to be successful and happy?

I don’t know.

What about helping others? Playing with children? Caring for older relatives? Contributing to friends’ happiness? Staying healthy or fighting an illness?

Who is more successful?

The Olympic champion with nine medals?

The CEO of a mega industry?

The firefighter who gives his life saving a kid?

The marines who defend our country?

The nuns who devote their life to pray or care for others?

As I evaluate my goals and achievements, I really wonder.

How do you spell success?

How do you rate success?

Too Much!!! Not Enough!!!

Do you still remember your New Year resolutions?
I do, because I put them in practice right away on January 1st .

Resolution #1:

To balance my life and organize my time in a reasonable way, I mean a way that seems reasonable to others--because my schedule always seemed extremely reasonable to me. So what if I spent twelve hours glued to my chair in front of my computer. As long as my neck or fingers didn’t hurt, I saw no reason to stop writing.


But my family didn’t agree, and I finally listened to their complaints. My dear husband felt neglected. He is very supportive of my writing, especially when I receive a check or a good review, but apparently there are limits to how much a good hubby can take. Apparently, I focus so much on my monitor screen when I write that I don’t even hear him when he talks. Huh?

So to please my husband and soothe my conscience, I cut on my writing, devoted more time to my family and exercised to improve my health. I wrote my New Year resolutions. Same resolutions as last year and the year before. But this year I took action and signed up with a trainer for twenty-four sessions, or three months of supervised exercise. There was no escape out of my commitment.

Where do I stand two months later?

I went to the gym four times a week, for an average of an hour and half to two hours a day: half an hour of cardio followed by half an hour of weights with my trainer, and finally another half hour of cardio. My family and friends admired my determination at losing weight.

You would think that after this hectic program I should have slimmed down, become fit and felt happy with my perseverance.
Except that, I was exhausted after every session and hardly able to walk. My muscles ached, my right elbow was sore, and after four weeks I developed a serious back problem.

Not to worry. My trainer dragged me to the chiropractor who has his clinic in the gym itself. He asked me to inhale and exhale, pulled my legs (seriously) and then pressed them with all his strength. I heard a crack and thought my vertebral column snapped into two pieces, but after an hour of therapy, lying on a hot moving waterbed, and other relaxing methods, I was back in shape. To be safe, we cut down on the tougher exercises for a week, repeated the therapy four times and I went back to my routine.

After two months, my trainer pinched my waist, thighs, back, …with some measuring tool and proudly announced that I lost five pounds of fat. Unfortunately, I gained one pound in total weight. Huh???

Therefore, trainer and weights are not the right way to lose weight. At least for me. Once I finish the four weeks I still have on my package, I will need to find myself a different exercise program.


Any suggestions?

Black Swan by Linda Nightingale

The Author:
Born in South Carolina, Linda Nightingale has lived in many places, including Canada, England, Miami, Atlanta and now Houston. She has seen much of this country through the windshield of a truck pulling a horse trailer when she bred and showed Andalusian horses. She won the Georgia Romance Writers Magnolia award and was a semi-finalist in the Amazon Breakthrough Novel Contest. She loves piano, horses, reading, writing and…no, not arithmetic! She has completed four novel manuscripts, two about vampires and two about fallen angels. Visit her at http://www.lindanightingale.com/. There is a continuing vampire story on her web site.

The Book:
Black Swan was released on February 25 from The Wild Rose Press (http://www.thewildrosepress.com/)

Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
Genre: Paranormal; Fantasy
Length: Short (43 pages)
Heat: Spicy

Black Swans, mortals who submit to the vampire's kiss to experience euphoria and sexual ecstasies. At birth, Black Swan had a twin story. But the Black Swan and Swan Song became one spicy vampire story.

The First Review:
Long And Short Romance Reviews
Rating: 4 books
Reviewed by Tiger Lily

Suffering from a broken marriage, Carol Langston meets Tristan McLaghlan at a Black Swan party. Black Swans are mortals who willingly barter blood for the sensual ecstasy and euphoria vampires give in return. To Carol, this looks like the real thing until her handsome vampire runs away from her and his true nature. Separated by miles, divided across two species, can their love survive?One tall, dark, and handsome vampire is seeking his perfect mate – if she’ll have him again. Tristan McLachlan needs to satisfy his bloodlust and Carol Langston is the only woman who’ll do. Now he needs to find the way back into her heart.

Ms. Nightingale writes an interesting plot. Her vampires have consciences and remorse. The twists are logical and believable because the reader can identify with the trials of the characters. The hero Tristan captivated this reader... The story is an enjoyable read. The love scene on the hood of the BMW is very hot because of the chance they may get caught. If you like brooding vampires and damsels in distress, then "Black Swan" is the read for you and your friends.

Excerpt:
The fact that the man she loved was in bed with another woman ceased to be important when she saw the blood.

Her heart, which had been running on empty until she met Tristan, stuttered and stalled. Horror freeze-framed time—the shutter snaps of images flooding her brain almost audible. She couldn’t breathe or move, knew she hadn’t made a sound, but Tristan's head snapped up. Wild red eyes honed in on her. Blood smeared his mouth, drizzled from two wounds on his partner's throat. The woman he'd been screwing was deathly pale and deadly still.

She hadn't blinked but Tristan was on his feet. Her heart tripped over a beat. No one could move that fast. He shook back his mane of black hair and, holding her prisoner in his gaze, glided toward her. The last rays of the dying sun bronzed his body.

"I never meant for this to happen again." His lyrical Irish accent grew more pronounced. "I’m sorry you saw what you saw. I promise I wasn't cheating on you." He rubbed his forehead as if he could erase a memory then embraced her tight again. "But unfortunately I can't tell you what was really happening.”

She gasped. Tristan had literally vanished from her arms, reappeared by the window. In profile, he looked like an angry ancient god. From the apartment next door, Ravel's sensual Bolero and the sounds of lovemaking wove through the utter stillness.

"Love ... is rare in my life. I didn’t wish lose it again." His voice was part of the throbbing melody. "But I am what I am."

His last four words penetrated her misery. For a couple of stuttering heartbeats, she stared at him in shock. Fear invaded her fantasy world.

A hard shudder rolled over her. “What are you, Tristan?"

He whirled, his eyes glowing in the dark. "You don't want to know what I am." A muscle in his sculpted jaw twitched. "But perhaps you should."

Fangs dented the bottom lip of the most beautiful, evil smile she’d ever seen.

Contest:
Answer the following question from the story to win a Black Swan coffee mug.

What instrument does Tristan play?

The winner must leave an email addy so that I can contact her/him for a snail mail address.

Blood Sin by Toni V. Sweeney

A native Georgian of French extraction, Toni V. Sweeney's writing career began during an extended convalescence following an automobile accident. Since her recovery, she has survived tornados and snow-covered winters in the Midwestern United States and currently lives amid the sunshine, earthquakes, and forest fires of Orange County, California. Somehow, she can't seem to stay away from threatening natural occurrences! She is a member of the South Coast Writer's Association, the Pink Fuzzy Slipper Writers website, has her own website, myspace, Facebook, and YouTube pages. She presently has eight novels in publication, as well as several short stories featured in magazines, online, and on amazon.com's Amazon Shorts. More about Toni may be found at www.tonivsweeney.com

BLURB:
Blood Sin, Book I of The Kan Ingan Archives
Link: http://leucrotapress.com/bloodsin.html
Available, summer, 2009

Synopsis:
Deroes kan Ingan, Margrave of Arcanis never intends to fall in love, but when he meets Earthwoman Elizabeth Sheffield...and that is exactly what happens.

Spoiled, beautiful Elizabeth is calculating enough to see the status in marrying the ruler of an entire galaxy. Yet there is an unexpected obstacle to her perfect plan to power—Deroes' nephew, Aric.

Raised as heir to the Arcanian throne but now disinherited, Aric intends to make her life on Arcanis as miserable as possible, only to have events take an unexpected turn when he falls in love with his uncle's wife—and she returns his passion.

As the two young people begin their furtive affair, other forces in the kingdom conspire rebellion and murder in an attempt to rid Arcanis of the Margrave's alien bride and his half-Terran child--and the Margrave turns on the one person he believes behind it all: The not-so-innocent pawn, Aric.

EXCERPT:
She heard the outer door open, didn't turn around as soft footsteps came onto the balcony.

"What are you thinking?" Deroes' voice whispered in her ear. A bouquet of brilliant flowers appeared before her.

Pulling them from his hand, she turned in his arms, to be kissed enthusiastically. "Deroes, these are beautiful."

"Flowers from the Royal Garden for my Royal lady, picking by her loving husband."

"And you took time out from your meeting to do that?"

"The meeting is over for the day. I dismissed the Elders. Until sundown, I'm all yours, my Lady."

"All mine?" She gave him an arch look. "To do with as I please?"

Placing one hand over his heart, he bowed. "Whatever you wish, just command me."

"Very well." She held out the bouquet. "Tell me the names of these flowers."

He looked a little disappointed but took it from her, separating the blossoms, holding up one of each. "This is Love Lasts Forever, it comes from Ghermia, in the mountains...."

She sat there watching his face as he recited something about every one and when he finished, said, "Thank you, my Lord," and gathered the flowers. "Would you excuse me a moment?"

Getting up, she went into the bedchamber.

"Elizabeth, what are you--"

"Patience, Sire."

So he sat there, fingers tapping a rhythm on the arm of the divan. When she called him, he stood up and walked hesitantly into the bedroom.

The lights had been dimmed. He could see her lying in the bed, a pale figure in the dark.

"Elizabeth, what is this?"

"Lights, twenty percent!"

The illumination wasn't bright but it was enough to see that she was naked, her only covering the flowers he had given her.

"Since you like to pick flowers so, I thought you might want to do it again."

Icy Snow Blackstone

Welcome Icy Snow Blackstone:

BIO:

Icy Snow Blackstone was born in1802, in northern Georgia where her father, English emigre the Reverend John Blackstone, was prominent in local politics. Two hundred and seven years later, her great-great-great-granddaughter began using her name as a pseudonym for her romance novels. The present Icy Snow Blackstone lives from her Southern roots in Orange County, California, where she is associated with the South Coast Writer's Association. More about Icy Snow's writing can be found at http://www.tonivsweeney.com/



JERICHO ROAD, available from Lyrical Press, April, 2009

BLURB:

Returning from Vietnam, Wade Conyers' heightened sense of racial equality, engendered by his relationship with an Afro-American soldier in his outfit, immediately clashes with his father's bigotry and prejudice. The specters of that war also threaten his recent marriage to Marcella, a South Carolina socialite. His sister Lindsey's romantic involvement with Logan Redhawk, a part-Mohawk doctor proves the catalyst that uncovers a tangled story of secret lives, adultery, and ultimately murder, as both families learn how one man's hate can defile and destroy the lives it touches.

WARNING: contains subject matter some readers may find objectionable--profanity, graphic sex, homosexuality, adultery, miscegenation.

EXCERPT:
Lindsey looked up at him. "Is it true that your mother's folks don't speak to her just because she married an Indian?"
"Of course not, and it’s Native American," he corrected gently, "not Indian."
"What's the difference?" She frowned slightly and he thought it the most endearing little expression he'd ever seen.
"A lot! Indians are from India. The people of the Six Nations aren't!"
"The Six Nations. Is that what they call themselves?"
"That's what we call ourselves. We‘re the Kanienhehaka."
He expected her to make some other comment, about his siding himself with just one people when he was part of both but she didn't.
Instead, she shrugged and looked at the photo again and said, "Well, I think it would be a stupid way to act! Why, I'd be proud if someone in my family married an Ind--a Native American! Or if I were mar--"
She stopped and looked up at him and blushed slightly, "I mean--" and stopped again.
Neither of them said anything, just stood there, looking at each other.
He was standing too close to her, ought to move away. He could see the quick rise and fall of the tiny breasts, realized that one hand was brushing her hip. He looked down at her, thinking how utterly small and innocent she looked.
And white.
"Well?" Lindsey said softly. "Aren't you going to kiss me?"
Logan didn’t move.
“You’ve been wanting to do it for about three hours now, haven’t you?”
He shook his head. “Four.”
He put his arms around her, pulling her slight body against his, almost lifting her off the floor. He felt her rise onto tiptoe and waver toward him before she regained her balance and then the slender arms were around his neck and she was pressing against him, mouth touching his in a very childish, very chaste closed-lip kiss.
He pulled away long enough to mutter, "Lindsey, maybe we'd better--" and she touched his cheek and whispered, "Shh--" and he kissed her again, thrusting his tongue against her lips, feeling them part and welcome his invasion eagerly.
One hand moved to touch one tiny breast, feeling the nipple quiver into tautness against his fingers. She made a little protesting sound and raised her hand to push against his wrist but as it met resistance let it drop again. Gently, Logan's fingers encircled the soft little mound.
He couldn't know what she was thinking, that abruptly, Lindsey realized that here was a man and not one of those silly awkward boys who were all gropings and heavy breathing. Here was someone who knew exactly what he was doing and what he wanted and frighteningly, he wanted her. She knew she ought to stop him--she could stop him with one word--but his hands felt so good touching her, making hot little shivers generate inside her in places she'd never felt them before.
Just a little longer, she thought. I'll let him touch me just a little longer and then I'll tell him to stop. But she never said the words, not even when Logan picked her up and without taking his mouth from hers, carried her into the bedroom.

FRW Conference

Cruise with your Muse

I have just returned from a three-day cruise on the Navigator of the Seas, a luxury floating hotel that offers super accommodation, great food and entertainment. I bet you are thinking, “she’s so engrossed in cruises, she mixed up her posts.” Nope. I didn’t lose my mind on the dream ship. Imagine that our FRW 2009 conference bore another name: Cruise with your Muse. Thanks to our conference organizer, Aleka Nakis, we held our 2009 cruise on a ship, sailed to Coco Cay and had a fantastic time.

It all started the night before with a pre-sail party at the Ale House where we met our guests: editors, agents, writers and a few smart husbands determined to share their wives’ fun. I had the pleasure to greet my editors, Raelene Gorlinsky from Cerridwen Press/ Ellora’s Cave and Rhonda Penders from The Wild Rose Press. Of course Raelene wore her charming little hat and Rhonda donned a t-shirt printed with a large THE WILD ROSE PRESS on the front.





On Thursday my husband drove me and my friend and critique partner from Canada, Joan Frantschuk, to Port Everglade to board the humongous Royal Caribbean ship. We dropped our carry-on in the cabin we shared and rushed to deck eleven for a delicious lunch, but I couldn’t linger on visiting the rest of the ship. Duty called.



As the editors/ agents appointment coordinator I had to report to the second floor. While the attendees lined up for their ten-minute meeting with the editor or agent of their choice, I led the VIPs to their tables: Adam Wilson editor at MIRA Books, Kerry Donovan from NAL, Rose Hilliard from St. Martin’s Press, Jessica Berry from Resplendence Publishing, and my two editors, as well as agents Holly Root from Waxman Agency and Miriam Kriss from Irene Goodman Literary Agency, who all gave so generously of their time to the attendees they interviewed. So many writers ended up pitching to four or five editors/agents and received multiple requests for full or partial manuscripts. Pitching time extended for two hours on Thursday afternoon and Friday morning.

We patiently waited for the ship to weigh anchor while sipping drinks with FRW members, Traci Hall, Patrice Wilton, Jianne Carlo, Kimberly Burke, and chatting with Cindy Thomason, Zelda Benjamin and Allison Chase. By six-thirty the book signing started on the Promenade deck with over thirty authors selling and signing their books. We met many writers and readers before rushing to our cabin to change for dinner. Words fail to describe the elegance of the three-story dining room. I was sitting at the same table as Rhonda Penders and fellow author at TWRP, Maggie Toussaint, and later met Liana Laverentz, Loretta Rogers, J.L. Wilson and many others.





During the Floridian Idol, some brave writers anonymously submitted the first two pages of their works in progress, read by bestseller author Heather Graham and Michael Meeske. They received oral critique by editors and agents while we sipped delicious drinks offered by FRW.




In addition to workshops, we enjoyed Christina Dodd sharing her journey to publication. Joan and I posed for a lovely picture with her. Aleka distributed gorgeous thank you gifts to the volunteers who helped her organize the conference. With hardly any time left to spare, we gathered for happy hour in the Dungeon lounge and mingled with our guests before dinner. While some of FRW tested their singing talents in a karaoke session, Joan and I shared a drink with Nancy Cohen and exchanged impressions about our fabulous conference.

The cruise ended too soon on Saturday morning as we exchanged last minute business cards. What a fun and productive conference!

Only two days left for a fun contest:
the NIGHT OWL ROMANCE NEW YEARS WEB HUNT.

Enter the Hunt for the chance to win Ebooks, Advanced Reading Copies, Print Books and other author goodies. The hunt runs Jan.1st – Feb. 1st, 2009.Make sure to get your entry in soon. There are well over 30 items to win.

THE MAGIC KNOT

Today is D-day for my friend and critique partner Helen Scott-Taylor as her first book THE MAGIC KNOT is released by Dorchester.

Congratulations Helen.

THE MAGIC KNOT was the winner of the 2008 American Title Romantic Times contest for paranormal.

The Magic Knot from Dorchester Publishing

HE’S A BIKER WITH AN ATTITUDE
What woman wouldn’t be attracted to Niall O’Connor’s soft Irish brogue and dark good looks? But Rosenwyn Tremain must find her father, and she isn’t going to let a sexy, stubborn Irishman and his motorcycle distract her. Rose’s intuition tells her he’s hiding something, a secret even the cards cannot divine. Her tarot deck always reads true, but how can one man represent both Justice and Betrayal?

SHE’S A WOMAN ON A MISSION
Magic. Niall’s body tingles with it when he finds the woman snooping in his room. Rosenwyn might believe she’s a no-nonsense accountant, but her essence whispers to him of ancient fairy magic that enslaves even as it seduces. Her heritage could endanger those he’d die to protect, but her powers and her passion, if properly awakened, might be the only thing that can save both their families, vanquish a fairy queen bent on revenge, and fulfill a prophecy that will bind their hearts together with…THE MAGIC KNOT.

Reviews:

“THE MAGIC KNOT is a really wonderful story of magic, suspense, love, and mystery. What a refreshing new take on this idea of other worldly beings.”
—Coffee Time Romance

"I picked up this book, started to read and didn’t stop till I read the last page, closing it with a sigh of pure ecstatic, heart-warming bliss... A stunning debut for an author who instantly became a permanent addition to my bookshelves!"
—Realms on Our Bookshelves

“Helen Scott Taylor has charmed me with her own magic. I am pleased to have discovered a new author to read.”
—Manic Readers

"The incredible ending left me gasping quietly at the sheer beauty, imagination and imagery."
—Merrimon Book Reviews

"Ms. Taylor has written a story filled with love, magic, and adventure. I began reading this book in the morning and remained captivated until the very last page."
—Night Owl Romance Reviews

"After reading THE MAGIC KNOT with its great love story, good pixies, bad fairies and an intriguing vampiric nightstalker, paranormal fans will be eagerly anticipating promising newcomer, Helen Scott Taylor’s next enthralling paranormal romance!”
—Patricia Rouse, Rouse’s Readers Groups