It isn’t often I’m at a loss for something to blog about--but this month finds me in just that predicament. So, I thought we’d start a conversation about something close to all our hearts: BOOKS. What are you reading right now? I just finished Linda Lael Miller’s A Lawman’s Christmas. It’s her newest McKettrick story and Clay McKettrick is very nearly a perfect hero. Before that I read Victoria Bylin’s Marrying the Major. I won’t spoil it if you haven’t read the book yet, but suffice it to say that Major Tristan Smith won me over on the first page. And Miss Caroline is a perfect match for him. I also read Christine Feehan’s Dark Predator this week. While I will always pick up a western first, Ms. Feehan’s Dark series books are an auto-buy for me. Up next is Noelle Marchand’s Unlawfully Wedded Wife and Jane Graves’ Heartstrings and Diamond Rings.   And Filly Margaret Brownley’s NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLING A Log Cabin Christmas Anthology. Congratulations, Margaret!           How about you? What are you enjoying right now? Did you just finish a book that you can recommend to all of us? I can’t wait to hear all about it. 

Hello everyone.  In just a few short weeks my October release, Home For Thanksgiving, will hit the shelves.   This is a novella length work and is part of the Once Upon A Thanksgiving anthology.  It’s my very first novella and I must say I found it a challenge to write a shorter work and still fit in all I wanted to show in the development of the romance between my hero and heroine.  But hopefully I succeeded. This book features the last and most enigmatic of the Lassiter siblings, Griff.  Finding a heroine who was a match for Griff was also a real challenge for me, but I think I nailed it with the resourceful and determinedly optimistic Ruby Anne Tuggle.   As I dug into Ruby’s character and learned more about who she was, I grew to really love and admire her.  In the end, I discovered she has one of the most unconventional and poignant backstories of any heroine I’ve ever worked with. Below is an excerpt that I hope you will enjoy.  Set-up:  Griff is escorting Ruby on a seven hour road trip and they are just finishing up a quick roadside picnic lunch, when they discover Ruby’s cat is missing. 

Note:  I’m giving away an advance copy of this book to one person who leaves a comment today.

Good grief, she wasn’t going to cry, was she?  “No need to get all worked up just yet,” he said quickly.  “Why don’t you pack up things here and I’ll take a quick look around.”

“Thank you.”  She offered him a grateful smile, but the worry never left her expression.

Swallowing a few choice words, he stepped away from the blanket and let his eyes scan the tree line once again.  He didn’t hold out much hope of finding the feline, though, not unless it wanted to be found.  A moment later he got his first clue as to the animal’s whereabouts when he heard the excited barking of a dog.  It sounded close.  Maybe the threat of a dog on its trail would send the cat scampering back in this direction.

“Do you hear that?”  Miss Tuggle was at his elbow, the folded blanket in her arms.

“Yes.  Don’t worry.  I’m sure your cat can outrun most dogs.  Probably streak out of those woods any minute now.”

“She is fast.”

A moment later Griff frowned.  The tenor of the barking had changed.   The dog no longer seemed to be moving and it sounded more like baying, as if it had treed its quarry. 

Great.  Just great.

Griff headed off in the direction of the barking.

Ruby’s chin came up.  He hadn’t really invited her to follow him, but there was no way she was going to stay behind - it was, after all, her cat.  She did her best to keep up with him, but it wasn’t easy.  His long legs ate up the ground with amazing speed. 

Fortunately they didn’t have far to go.  Just inside the tree line they encountered the dog who was making all that racket.  The black and brown hound had its front legs braced up against a tree trunk, nose pointed heavenward and howling up a storm. 

Oh dear, was poor Patience up there somewhere?

As soon as the dog spotted them it stopped barking and dropped back down on all fours.  Griff put a hand up and Ruby obediently stopped. 

He moved forward, slowly, speaking to the animal in a tone too soft for her to make out the words.  After a moment the dog’s tail began to wag and Mr. Lassiter was able to stoop down and ruff the animal’s fur.

While her companion was busy winning over the dog, Ruby anxiously scanned the almost bare branches of the tree.  She finally caught sight of a furry face peering down at her from what must be a good ten feet above her head.  “Look, there she is.”

Mr. Lassiter glanced at her, then upwards.  “It figures,” he said dryly.  “Wouldn’t do for her to stop on a lower branch, would it?”

He stood and stared down at the dog, pointing away from the tree.  “Get along now.” 

Ruby grinned as the animal cocked its head to one side, as if trying to figure out if this was some sort of game.

“Get!”  He said it more firmly and louder this time, stomping his foot for emphasis.

The dog spun and loped away a few paces before turning back to stare at him.

Mr. Lassiter let out an exasperated breath.  “Mutt, I really don’t have the time or patience for this.” 

As if the animal finally understood, it turned and ran back into the woods.

Mr. Lassiter turned to her.  “I hope that animal of yours will come when called after all.”

She hoped so too.  Moving forward until she was directly under the branch Patience clung to, Ruby set the picnic blanket down and made a downward motion with her hand.  “Patience, come on down, sweetie.  That big bad dog is gone now so it’s safe.”

She kept her gaze on the cat, ignoring Mr. Lassiter’s snort at her description of the dog as ‘big, bad’.  But Patience still didn’t budge.  “I won’t let anything hurt you, I promise.  Just come on down so we can get on the road again.”

What was she going to do if the cat refused to come down right away?  She would never abandon her pet, but would Mr. Lassiter go off and leave them?  She tried calling Patience again, letting some of her desperation creep into her tone.

Finally Mr. Lassiter stepped forward.  “Enough.”

Ruby turned to him, trying to gain a little more time.  “Please.  She can’t stay up there forever.  I can go back to the hamper and get a bit of ham.  Maybe I can tempt her--”

“I doubt that’ll work.  And we’ve already wasted too much time.”

“But I can’t just leave her here.  She needs me.”  And I need her.

“Nobody said anything about leaving her.”  He tossed his hat on top of the picnic blanket, then, despite the chilly temperature, shrugged out of his jacket.  “Here, hold this.”

She took the jacket and hugged it against her chest, its warmth strangely comforting.  “What are you going to do?”  A dozen scenarios played out in her head - everything from him throwing rocks at her poor pet, to him climbing up after it.

He momentarily paused in the act of rolling up his sleeves and raised a brow.  “What do you think I’m going to do?”

She decided to believe the best of him and his intentions.  “Go up after her?”

Instead of responding he finished rolling up his sleeves, took his jacket back from her and moved to the tree.

“But--”  She missed the feel of his jacket in her arms.  “You said you weren’t going to chase after her.”

“And I’m not.”  He gave her a considering look as he tied the jacket’s sleeves in a chunky knot around his waist.  “Are you trying to talk me out of this?”

“No.  I just...”  He really was going to climb up after Patience.  The man was a real life hero.  “Please be careful.”

He nodded.  “Just be prepared for what comes next.  I don’t aim to climb back down with that critter spitting and clawing in my arms.”

Now what did he mean by that?  Ruby watched as he grabbed a lower limb and tested its weight.  “I must be out of my mind,” he muttered.  “I haven’t climbed a tree since I was a scrawny kid.” 

She had trouble picturing him as a scrawny anything.  Especially right now, what with the way his muscles bunched beneath his shirt as he grabbed hold of one of the lower branches. 

 Within seconds he was hauling himself up into the network of skeletal limbs.  A heartbeat later he was standing on a lower branch and looking for footing on the next tier up.  For a big man, he was surprisingly agile.  She couldn’t help but admire the relative ease with which he maneuvered his way up the tree. 

When he paused to control another bout of coughs, however, she had to bite her lip to keep from warning him once again to be careful.  

Please God, don’t let him fall.  I’d never forgive myself if he got hurt because of me and Patience.

But the cough quieted and he continued as if nothing had happened.  When he finally reached a branch that put him at chest level with Patience, Mr. Lassiter leaned with his back against the trunk and carefully untied his jacket from about his waist.

She wished she could see what was going on better.  “Is Patience okay?”

“She seems fine.”  His tone held very little sympathy for the object of his rescue.

“Try talking softly to her,” Ruby urged.  “She’s probably scared to death, poor thing.”  If he’d only handle Patience the same soothing way he had the dog earlier--

Before she could finish that thought, he’d thrown his coat over the cat, scooped her up and had her bundled as cleanly as if he’d tossed her in a sack.

Not that Patience was taking it without a fight.  The poor thing was screeching loud enough to be heard for miles and she was writhing so wildly that Ruby wondered how Mr. Lassiter was managing to keep his balance.

“Be careful.”  She hadn’t been able to contain the warning this time.  “How are you going to climb back down carrying Patience?”

“I’m not.”

What did he mean?  Had he gone to all this trouble just to leave--

“Move a little to your left and get ready to catch.”

“Catch?  Surely you’re not going to drop her.”

“That’s exactly what I’m going to do.  Don’t worry, she won’t break.  Just make sure you hold on to the critter and don’t let her run off again.”

“But I--”

“Ready or not.”

And with that, the bundle of squirming, screeching feline came falling from above.  Ruby managed to catch it, but the impact knocked her down on her backside. 

I got my author copies last week and can’t wait to start giving them away.  Just leave a comment and I’ll toss your name in the Stetson. Late tonight I’ll draw three names . . . Most of you know that Marrying the Major is Book #4 in the “Women of Swan’s Nest” series.  It’s about Caroline and Bessie, so it’s a two-for-one romance.  Here’s the back cover blurb:  A Very Practical Proposal . . . He hired a governess, but what retired officer Tristan Willoughby Smith needs is a wife. Not on his behalf, but to protect little Dora and Freddie. When Caroline Bradley arrives at his Wyoming ranch, she seems perfectly suited--capable, efficient, intelligent . . . if a trifle too appealing. Caroline knows what a real union of hearts should be, and the major’s polite, no-nonsense offer hardly qualifies. Still, she accepts for the children’s sake, little knowing the complications the marriage will bring to test her confidence and her faith. Yet in this unusual match, Caroline starts to see a glimmer of something strong and true--the makings of the family she never thought she’d find . . . Here's an excerpt . . . This is from the middle of Chapter Two, and it’s one of my favorite scenes. Tristan is ferrying Caroline across a river on the back of Cairo, his prize Arabian stallion. Caroline is terrified of horses. To reassure her, he’s just bragged that Cairo would never disobey him. But that’s exactly Cairo does. He balks in the middle of the river, and Caroline takes a fall… The water went over Caroline’s head with whoosh. She couldn’t see or breathe. She could only feel the sudden cold and the current grabbing at her skirt. The stallion was bucking and stomping. If she didn’t get out of the river, she’d be pulled downstream or trampled. She tried to stand but stumbled because of the weight of her clothing. “Get back!” the Major shouted. He had his hands full with the unruly horse. She didn’t know why it had bucked, but the medical case was slapping against its side. She had a horrible vision of it coming loose. Major Smith would lose the quinine, and she’d lose her only picture of Charles. Bracing against the sandy bottom, she pushed to her feet. She wanted to run for the shore, but if the case tore lose she’d go after it. Cairo reared back and whinnied. She half expected Major Smith to land in the river with her, but he moved gracefully with the horse, aligning his body with the stallion’s neck and back. Behind her she heard Jon sloshing toward them on Grandma. Being caught between two horses terrified her more than drowning, so she hoisted her skirts and ran downriver. She stumbled a dozen steps, tripped on her hem and went down. Rocks pressed into her knees and she cried out. She kept her head above water, but her skirt was tangled around her legs. Seemingly out of nowhere, male hands gripped her arms and lifted her from the current. “Caroline.” She heard the major’s voice, the accent thick as he set her on her feet. “It’s all right. I’ve got you.” She felt the strength of his arms and the sureness of his stance. As he steadied her, she wiped her eyes with her sleeve and became aware of his body shielding her from the current. She had no business noticing him in a personal way. She was merely an employee, a woman who was afraid of horses and had fallen in the river. She pulled back from his grasp and staggered away. “I’m all right.” He splashed closer, reaching for her. “Let me walk you to the shore.” “No!” She didn’t want to feel his arm around her waist. “Go take care of your horse.” “Jon has Cairo.” She looked past him to the shore where Jon and Grandma were leading Cairo up the sandy bank. The black horse had calmed, but he still looked on edge . . . much like the major. He stepped closer to her, his hand extended as if he were giving her a peppermint. “Come now,” he said with authority. “There’s nothing to be afraid of.” “Oh yes, there is!” She was afraid of him, afraid of her feelings because she couldn’t help but like this man. With malaria symptoms, he had no business jumping into the river to help her. He should have taken his horse to shore and let Jon come to her rescue. Instead he’d risked getting a chill. Even more revealing was the compassion in his eyes. He looked both sincere and commanding, a man of courage who understood fear. She could imagine soldiers following him into battle, trusting him to lead them to victory. She trusted him, too. But she didn’t trust her feelings. How many times had she felt this spark of interest in a man only to have it dashed?

Don't forget to leave a comment to be eligible for the drawing!  To order now  from Amazon, click here:  Marrying the Major

Thank you for having me as a guest on the P&P blog. I’m so excited to be here! I’ll be giving away a copy of my novel MARRYING MISS MARSHAL to one of the P&P blog readers, so stay tuned for that. From the moment I met my heroine, town marshal Danna Carpenter, I knew she was different from the typical gal you meet in most western romances. For one thing, she wears a badge, totes a gun, and can outshoot most of her male acquaintances. She wears trousers, and a Stetson instead of a bonnet. She’s tough, resilient, independent… But there’s one way she’s just like me. She can’t cook. Now, I’m much better than I used to be nine years ago when I first got married. My poor husband suffered through burnt cookies, un-baked potatoes, undercooked casseroles, chunky gravy, and more. Between a family recipe book, some lessons from my husband’s lovely grandmother, and a lot of practice, I’m happy to say I am much improved. I still don’t cook as much as I should (too busy!). But back to Danna. When she realizes she’s falling for the hero, Chas O’Grady, all the things she sees as her faults (like not being able to cook) suddenly matter a whole lot more. She wonders if he wishes she was more like a “regular” lady—someone who wears dresses and can cook. She’s not sure if she could really make him happy by being who she is. On the other hand, being town marshal is all she knows how to do, AND she’s good at it. If she changes who she really is, could she still be happy? Hmm. Maybe she’s more like me than I originally thought. When Luke and I first got married, I tried to be the “perfect” wife based on everything I *thought* he wanted. And while there is some give-and-take necessary to make a marriage work, transforming myself into a different person than the one he fell in love with in the first place wasn’t the answer. Being someone I wasn’t couldn’t make either of us happy. It took several months for me to realize that Luke wanted me to be myself. And of course, I wanted to learn to cook for myself so we wouldn’t starve! Nowadays, I might not cook as much as I should, but I spend time doing things that make me happy (like writing books!). I don’t want to spoil the ending of the book, so you’ll have to read it to find out if Danna came to the same conclusion I did and whether Chas was able to accept her as herself, badge and all. What about you? Is there any time that you’ve tried to be something you weren’t? What did you learn from the experience? Leave a comment and a winner will be chosen at the end of the day for someone to receive a copy of MARRYING MISS MARSHAL. In the meantime, you can read the first chapter or enter in my big giveaway at www.marryingmissmarshal.com .

A little more about our guest . . .

Lacy Williams is a wife and mom from Oklahoma. Her debut novel won ACFW's Genesis award before being published. She promises readers happily-ever-afters guaranteed. Lacy combines her love of dogs with her passion for literacy by volunteering with her therapy dog Mr. Bingley in a local Kids Reading to Dogs program. Lacy loves to hear from readers at lacyjwilliams@gmail.com. She posts short stories and giveaways at her website www.lacywilliams.net  and can be found on social media at www.facebook.com/lacywilliamsbooks and www.twitter.com/lacy_williams .  

The title for this blog is a bit of hyperbole, but I think it’s true.  El Paso by Marty Robbins has been my favorite song for years.  It came up at P&P a few weeks ago, and I haven’t been able to get it out of my head. For those who haven’t heard it, I’m included a YouTube video from the 1970s. I recommend ignoring the white jumpsuits. It’s hard to believe we ever thought they were a good idea.   

Here’s El Paso.

  And now for some trivia . . . The song was written by Marty Robbins in almost less time than it takes to sing the 4-1/2 minute long version.  He said in an interview that it came to him almost like a movie and he just wrote it down. The song is unusual in that there’s no chorus and no repeated lyrics. El Paso was released in September 1959 and went to No. 1.  In 1961, it won the Grammy for Best Country and Western Recording. The Grateful Dead did a cover of  El Paso. El Paso appeared on Gunfighter Ballads & Trail Songs.  Today on Amazon, there are 107 review that break down like this: 5 Stars -- 100.  4 Stars -- 6.  3 Stars -- 1. The solo 3-Star reviewer didn’t like the  change in the order of the songs on the digitally remastered CD. The City of El Paso named a park after Marty Robbins. The song on the flipside of the old 45 was Running Gun. The Glaser Brothers supplied the harmony, and Grady Martin played the Tex Mex style guitar that gives the song so much character. Marty Robbins' real name was Shane Dawson. He was born September 26, 1925.  He passed away December 8, 1982 from a heart ailment. He had a twin sister. And now here are the lyrics that first made me love western romance . . . 

El Paso by Marty Robbins

Out in the West Texas town of El Paso I fell in love with a Mexican girl. Night-time would find me in Rosa's cantina; Music would play and Felina would whirl.Blacker than night were the eyes of Felina, Wicked and evil while casting a spell. My love was deep for this Mexican maiden; I was in love but in vain, I could tell. One night a wild young cowboy came in, Wild as the West Texas wind. Dashing and daring, A drink he was sharing With wicked Felina, The girl that I loved. So in anger I Challenged his right for the love of this maiden. Down went his hand for the gun that he wore. My challenge was answered in less than a heart-beat; The handsome young stranger lay dead on the floor. Just for a moment I stood there in silence, Shocked by the FOUL EVIL deed I had done. Many thoughts raced through my mind as I stood there; I had but one chance and that was to run. Out through the back door of Rosa's I ran, Out where the horses were tied. I caught a good one. It looked like it could run. Up on its back And away I did ride, Just as fast as I Could from the West Texas town of El Paso Out to the bad-lands of New Mexico. Back in El Paso my life would be worthless. Everything's gone in life; nothing is left. It's been so long since I've seen the young maiden My love is stronger than my fear of death. I saddled up and away I did go, Riding alone in the dark. Maybe tomorrow A bullet may find me. Tonight nothing's worse than this Pain in my heart. And at last here I Am on the hill overlooking El Paso; I can see Rosa's cantina below. My love is strong and it pushes me onward. Down off the hill to Felina I go. Off to my right I see five mounted cowboys; Off to my left ride a dozen or more. Shouting and shooting I can't let them catch me. I have to make it to Rosa's back door. Something is dreadfully wrong for I feel A deep burning pain in my side. Though I am trying To stay in the saddle, I'm getting weary, Unable to ride. But my love for Felina is strong and I rise where I've fallen, Though I am weary I can't stop to rest. I see the white puff of smoke from the rifle. I feel the bullet go deep in my chest. From out of nowhere Felina has found me, Kissing my cheek as she kneels by my side. Cradled by two loving arms that I'll die for, One little kiss and Felina, good-bye.  

 What kind of book covers to do you like? What makes you pick up one book but leave another on the shelf?  Do you like couples on the covers? How about children and animals?  And then there are cowboys and outlaws and warriors . . . oh my! I can spend hours looking at books, sizing up the covers and reading the blurbs. I’m thinking about this topic because the cover for Marrying the Major is up at  www.christianbook.com. This is my October 2011 Love Inspired Historical, and my thirteenth book. You’d think I’d be used to the “cover” moment, but it’s always exciting.  It goes like this:  I’ll see the email from the Harlequin Art Department, tingle with anticipation and download an attachment that’s going to give readers the first impression of the book. My first reactions are all over the road. Sometimes I love the cover and I think, “Yes! That’s my hero!” Or “The heroine’s perfect!” Other times it’s like looking at an alien creature with extra arms and legs.  Not good or bad, necessarily. Just not what I was expecting.   I’ve had some great covers, including the one for my first book. In 2003, it won the RWA Artemis Award for best cover in the historical category.  Of Men and Angels is still one of my favorites.  It even impressed my  teenage sons.  I’m sure they were expecting a romance cliché or a clinch, but instead I got a leg.  A thigh to be precise. At RWA in Orlando I asked an editor from a Christian publishing house how they felt about bad boys and hero-driven stories.  I’d noticed the majority of their covers featured the heroine. She laughed and said they love strong heroes, but they put the heroine on the cover because it sells books. “The bigger the dress, the higher the sales,” she said with a smile. Cover styles change and I’ve noticed more variety, but there are a lot of pretty dresses on covers for inspirational romance.   I tend to write hero driven stories, so I’ve gotten a lot of men on the covers.  My favorite hero cover is Abbie’s Outlaw. I also got a hero cover for The Maverick Preacher.  The cover for Midnight Marriage  has a fun history.  The guy on the cover won a Mr. Romance contest sponsored by Harlequin in 2005. In real life, he was a charter boat captain in Alaska.  Then we get to the bad covers . . . I’ve never had anything truly awful. I’ve been very fortunate, but I do have some pet peeves.  Kids on covers? It usually doesn’t work for me, though the cover for Wyoming Lawman charmed readers. I've heard that kids on covers have a lot of appeal. I’m not a fan of old style clinch covers, though they served a purpose.  When the romance genre arrived on the scene, a clinch cover made it very clear that the book was a love story. I like animals on covers. That might be why The Outlaw’s Return is a personal favorite.  So what about you?  What do you like? Dislike? And do you have any favorites?  The “Texan” anthologies by my fellow Fillies Linda Broday and Phyliss Miranda are awesome!

My youngest son is getting married on Saturday!  I couldn’t be happier for Dave and Whitney, my new daughter-in-law. It’s our second wedding in eight months. My oldest son and his wife tied the knot in October. In honor of both brides, I thought I’d talk about family wedding memories. My husband and I had a whirlwind courtship back in 1980.  We’d been acquaintances in high school and later became friends. He rode up to my house on a big red motorcycle one evening, suggested a movie and off we went to see the first Star Trek movie.  Four months later we got married in a very small ceremony in my parents’ living room. I wasn’t the girl who always dreamed of a big wedding.  In fact, Mike and I planned to elope until my dad said, “I think your mother would like to see you get married.”  Well, my mom said, “You’re getting married here? I thought you were eloping?” She liked the idea of eloping  just fine. It was my dad who wanted to see the big moment and he did.  Short and sweet. Family. A wedding breakfast, where I found out my husband of 45 minutes didn’t like quiche.  Thirty-one years later, we’re going strong and he hasn’t had quiche since. My parents' wedding in 1954 was much more traditional My mom wore a beautiful white dress with a sweetheart neckline, lots of lace and a veil. Her bridesmaids wore shades of aqua, ballerina length dresses and cute little hats. The best picture, I think, is “the kiss.”  No wonder my folks were together for 42 years!  A lot of love was there from the beginning. So was faith and a willingness to talk, talk, talk things through. My mom’s wedding dress got worn again in 1993. When my brother and future sister-in-law got engaged, she had trouble finding just the right dress.  My mom’s gown fit her perfectly. Not only did she wear the dress, she and John got married on my parent’s 39^th wedding anniversary. My oldest son was the ring bearer. He looked great in a tux! He looked even better on his own wedding day,which leads us to . . . The most recent wedding is my oldest son and his wife.  Awesome day!  They got married at Woodlawn Plantation in Alexandria, Virginia.  String quartet. Delicious food. Lovely flowers. Gorgeous pictures. Best of all, family got to celebrate with them.

So those are my wedding memories. What are yours?  Of maybe you have a favorite wedding scene in a book?  I’d love to hear about them.

I’ll be in and out today . . . The wedding ramp-up is starting.  Can’t wait for Saturday!  P.S.  Sorry not to have family pictures . . . I don’t have the older ones on the computer, and the newer ones are on the old computer which isn't here today.  They were on this computer until I had a virus a few months ago.  They’re safe, just not easily accessible.

It’s a beautiful spring day, and I’m giving serious thought to taking the Kindle outside and sitting in the sun. When I was growing up in Granada Hills, California, a Los Angeles suburb, I’d often read in the backyard. The house had a big sandstone patio, and a fruitless Mulberry tree offered a canopy of shade. Add in a bottle of Orange Crush and a folding chaise lounge and you’ve got the picture. Being outside added to the sense of adventure of whatever I was reading. I still enjoy it. I’ve got other favorite places to read . . . Here are my Top 5. Place No. 1 -- Airplanes. I love reading on planes! When we lived in the Washington DC area, I’d make twice-a-year trips to see my mom in Los Angeles. A nonstop flight would give me about six uninterrupted hours. The trick is to pick a book that’s just the right length. You don’t want to land with just 15 pages to go. That happened to me once. I was at the most exciting part just as the wheels touched down at LAX. Series romances are a good length for flights, especially Love Inspired Historicals. Place No. 2 -- Hotel Rooms. I don’t do a lot of traveling, but the times I have, I’ve been glad to have books with me. When my husband and I go on vacation, picking which books to take is a big part of the planning. We were in Laughlin, Nevada for a weekend when I read Swan’s Chance by Celeste DeBlasis. I read until five in the morning. Just couldn’t put it down! For travel, I like long books that will last awhile. James Michener’s sagas definitely do the trick. Place No. 3 -- The Beach. There’s something wonderful about reading with your toes in the sand. Add the rumble of waves and can of Diet Coke and I’m set for hours. For a “beach read,” I like something fast-paced with lots of drama. Place No. 4 -- By A Swimming Pool. This one has pros and cons. Community swimming pools can be noisy and crowded, and if we have small kids in tow, they need our full attention. It’s hard to read with all the splashing and noise. On the other hand, if I’m by myself and it’s quiet, I enjoy the ambience. Place No. 5 -- Home Sweet Home. Reading at night in the den is just wonderful. In the winter, the fireplace is ablaze. In the summer, the windows are open and the crickets are chirping. The coziest place in the house is my LaZ Girl recliner. That’s not a real trade name. It’s a LaZ Boy, but my husband calls it my LaZ Girl. It fits!  

So those are my favorite places. Anyone else? Where do you like to read?

Some of my favorite shows are the programs on how movies are made. Movie Magic is one, and there’s another on Bravo. And there are all those HBO specials. Those looks into the development of a movie always leave a big impression on me. Sometimes after learning how over budget a production is, or the how the blue screen effects were done, I go see the movie just to find out how the finished product came out. Even if I don’t have the slightest interest in a movie in the first place, after I watch one of those programs, I have to see how all the special effects and the computer imaging and fake rain and snow and all that stuff came together into 90 minutes of near-perfect cinematography and sound and lighting. The process absolutely intrigues me. Did you know that in Gone With the Wind, during the scene where Scarlet walks among the wounded soldiers on the battlefield, if one slows the film enough and knows where to look, Judy Garland, dressed as Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz, can be scene peeking around the backdrop? They were filming side by side on the same sound lot. I’m an Avatar geek, and the CGI technology is one of the most amazing things I’ve seen done in film—that anyone has seen done to date. I had to force myself not to buy the second release with extra footage, because I already owned the first version. When there are no behind the scenes extras on a DVD I’ve purchased, I feel cheated. Even seeing a movie first and then watching the how-to program fascinates me, but I’d rather know the behind the scenes first, for some reason. Then I can sit and pick out all the places where I know they did a particularly wonderful job—or had an especially difficult time. When we’ve finished watching a new movie, my husband cringes, because he knows I’m going to go into the menu and watch the behind the scenes trailers and clips. I’ve learned a lot by seeing how scenes are created and changed and how actors get into the roles of their characters. I think one reason why that intrigues me so, is because everything that looks so polished and perfect in the finished product, was actually grueling, laborious, often times FRUSTRATING work behind the scenes. I remember for example, in the making of Jurassic Park, every time that huge tyrannosaurus—the one that broke through the fence and came after the kids in the car—every time it got wet in the rain scenes, the mechanical parts stopped working. The crew would have to stop, dry it down, wait, and start over. Hours and hours and hours, and in some cases DAYS of painstaking work just getting a few perfect shots. It’s not so unlike what we writers do. Other writers and all the readers see us with our good clothes on, our hair fixed, attending meetings and conferences, and book signings, with stacks of the glossy finished product in front of us. But how many hours of unglamorous work went into the finished product? I hate to even think how much I’ve made an hour on some of my projects, because when I think about it too hard, the more difficult it is, the more time it takes. And the more time it takes, the less I’m making per hour. And I must tell you: I don’t get up in the morning and slip into my pink ostrich-feather trimmed negligee or dictate to my personal secretary. Some days (and nights) I do my best writing in my jammies! Now there’s a picture for ya, eh? Finished books can represent years. They also often represent other projects that fell by the wayside in between. Not every book that a writer proposes sells. I know a lot of authors who claim they sell about one out of every three stories they come up with. A book takes anywhere from a few months to several months to complete. Some writers take a year or more. And those words don’t flow out of our brains in perfect order. Great scenes don’t just happen without plotting and planning and playing with dialogue. I usually write a story from beginning to end. I’m a very linear writer. But sometimes I have to go back and add things I belatedly realize are needed. Many authors write in layers, with dialogue first and then go back to add body language and setting. Others write scenes out of order and then connect them like a puzzle. It always amazes me how the process differs with each person—and with each book. I don’t write every book the same way. And then there’s the middle muddle, and all kinds of things that can get a writer off track. I’ve never asked other writers about this, but most often my books leave an impression on me—an imprint of what was happening in my life at the time it was written, be it good or bad. I remember which book I was writing when something significant happened in my life. While we’re bringing characters to life, we’re simultaneously living life. I think I can imagine what it’s like when the director, producer and crew of a movie watch their finished product for the first time. They remember how that scene came off beautifully after the boom was repaired or how amazing it is that a shot was edited to remove a dog that shouldn’t have been there. And then I imagine they look at the film with fresh eyes and marvel at how all the parts and players came together in a satisfying and rewarding piece of work. That’s how a book feels, too. Satisfying and rewarding, even though I know all the things that happened behind the scenes. It’s still a delight to see a new book cover for the first time. When my author copies arrive, I open the box and touch them, open them, read the first few pages. Spotting my release among all the others at Wal-Mart or the grocery store never gets boring. And I consider myself one of the most fortunate people in the world to be doing what I love and getting paid for it. Seriously, how many people can work in their jammies? There’s something amazing about recognition from your peers, as well, and that is what RWA’s RITA contest is all about. It’s judged by other writers just like myself, who love books and understand the process of writing one. I’ve been honored (for the fourth time) with a RITA nomination—this time for a novella,  MONTANA ROSE in the TO BE A MOTHER anthology from Love Inspired Historicals. Being a finalist is a big deal, accompanied by flowers, champagne and congratulations from friends, agents, editors and fellow writers. I am clearing a spot for that bad boy statue above my desk! Root for me in July. Do any of you enjoy seeing behind the scenes as much as I do?

It’s always exciting to mosey over to Petticoats and Pistols and spend time with the fillies and their terrific friends! And share with you my love of all things historical.

 In prior visits, I’ve talked about orphan trains, herbal remedies and mail-order brides.

This visit marks the release of my fourth Love Inspired Historical. Wanted: A Family will hit bookstore and discount store shelves this Tuesday, March 8. Here’s a peek at my story:

Shelter of Hope, the ramshackle Victorian house, is all that widowed mother-to-be Callie Mitchell has left. But she’s going to make that house into a true home—a home where she and her baby will be safe and happy…and where women in need can find refuge. And if that means trusting stranger Jacob Smith to help with repairs, then so be it. Jacob came to town with a handful of old postcards and one goal in mind—to find the mother who’d abandoned him years before. He never planned to stay…and he certainly never planned to care for Callie. Yet as they rebuild the house together, Jacob and Callie also build the family they’ve always wanted.

Building a family is part of the “happily ever after” ending of romance novels. I rarely have the fun of selecting the home for the hero and heroine, but since Callie is a widow, I got to choose her home in Wanted: A Family.

I find architecture fascinating. I especially love Victorian architecture.

Victorian houses aren’t all alike.

Folk Victorian is square and symmetrical with spindled porches and brackets under the eaves.

The more lavish Queen Anne is asymmetrical with towers, turrets, wrap-around porches and details galore. A few years ago on a trip up the Oregon coast, I took the opportunity to see exteriors of several Victorian houses in Astoria.

The pink house is one of the photos I took.

When my story needed a large old house for Callie to give refuge to unwed mothers, I chose a Victorian. Callie’s house is Queen Anne gone to seed. Carpenter Jake will set the house to rights while working his way into Callie’s heart. Mine too. What woman doesn’t love a handy man? ?

Houses—like the people who live there—have a history and Callie’s house is no exception. Do you have an architectural style you’d put in a book if you were creating a setting? Or a style you’d like to own if money and location weren’t a consideration?

Think Cape Cod, Federal, Colonial, Italianate, Greek Revival, Antebellum plantation, Cotswold Cottage, Tudor—the list goes on and on.

Take your pick.

Tell what you love about the style.

Or if architecture isn’t your thing, can you share a legend about a house. Haunted? Criminal activity? Mayhem and murder?

When Jake arrived in Peaceful, Indiana looking for work, he carried a handful of postcards. I suspect you’ve seen or perhaps even own a few old postcards.

We are privileged to have a variety of antique holiday greetings sent to my husband’s family: Valentine’s Day postcard with a naked cupid clutching a bow and arrow, Easter chicks riding in little buckets on an electric fan Ferris wheel, St. Patrick’s Day shamrocks. Flags for the 4th of July. Thanksgiving with King Turkey perched on his throne.

I particularly love the Christmas postcard featuring a Victorian family and their candlelit tree. Postcards also conveyed birthday wishes, as they did for Jake.

Each year on the date of his birth, a postcard arrived at the orphanage, the only link to the mother he never knew and is determined to find. If you own antique postcards, share details about the postage, date, and handwritten message on the back or perhaps how you display them.

One day I hope to have the time to investigate the artists/print houses that created our postcards.

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Thanks for stopping by and chatting with me today. For a chance to win an autographed copy of Wanted: A Family, please leave a comment.

Thanks, fillies, for inviting me!

Visit Janet online at: www.janetdean.net

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