Today I’ve got a post up at the very fun Coffee Thoughts blog at Coffee Time Romance:

Multiple Books, Multiple Worlds

Monday, March 8, 2010 | Category: Reader News

Thanks for having me over here at Coffee Time! Sorry I’m a bit late. I’m sitting here with my Mocha Magnifico protein shake and wondering what you guys might want to hear about today. I’ve got a computer class project, PTA work, a transcription to do, but what I really want to make time for is the three books I’m working on.

Three? Yes three. I am usually working on two or three books at the same time. It helps a lot in getting past any writer’s block, as if I get stuck in one story, it’s possible to start up somewhere and somewhen completely different in another story. Many of my books have been written at the same time. Command the Wind, a Passion Magic story set in Elizabethan England, was written at the same time as Reveal the Heart, also a Passion Magic story of Magi and their mates, but this one set in Washington D.C. during WWII. It was a big relief to move from one set of characters to another, and one timeframe to another. But, since I was staying within the same series and connecting the story of Magi heritage across hundreds of years, I think writing the two books together helped the quality and flow of both stories.

Another in the Passion Magic series, Foretell the Flame, is a story of escape and rescue set in the Italian Alps in 1805. But the final touches to this story were written at the same time as the thoroughly modern, slightly sci-fi and slightly paranormal story Don’t Wait. I think the savvy innocence of Rebecca in Don’t Wait was an excellent counterpoint to the jaded yet hopeful Cassandra in Foretell the Flame.  Gabe’s erotic education by an older and wiser Rebecca is an interesting mirror of how Tash woos Cassandra in her visions, making her believe that love is possible and life is worth living.

Right now, I’ve got three books in progress. I’m adding a chapter to New York Fairytale, about a wise-ass New York bartender and her very own prince charming. It’s already contracted with Resplendence Publishing, and should be coming out later this summer. But in the meantime, I’m having fun searching for pictures of the Waldorf-Astoria in NYC and imaging what kind of mischief Rudy and Ronnie can get into. That sense of fun and frolic helps a lot when I’m working on my as yet to be titled Passion Magic story set in 1888 on the Big Island of Hawaii. My Portuguese baker is married to the wrong twin, and the angst can be a heavy load to bear while in the early stages of the manuscript. But I think things will work out in the end. Bait and Switch, the third book I’m playing with at the moment, is probably the most fun. Sheila and Sam bicker back and forth across the desolate beauty of an arctic summer landscape, while trying to return a precious artifact to its rightful place. I love these two characters, and their on-again, off-again marriage is perfect for the 1955 setting. These two have been through a lot together, otherwise they’d never be able to survive their journey, much less have as much fun rediscovering each other’s every erotic desire.

Alas, real life interferes, and I do have to work my day jobs. But tonight, I have every intension of entering one or all of these worlds and having a great time. Who knows where my characters will end up taking me? I hope you enjoy reading about them as much as I enjoy writing them!

Have fun and Keep Reading!

Also, Resplendence Publishing has graciously accepted my contemporary erotic romance, New York Fairytale, for publication later this summer!

Here’s a snippet of the goodness to come:

Why won’t he leave?! Ronnie Carmichael groaned to herself for the tenth time in the last hour. She liked this pair of underwear too much to throw it out at the end of the night, and just looking at the man at the end of her bar made her too damn wet to be comfortable.

She shouldn’t be wearing a lacy pair of black boy shorts, the kind that hugged her ass just right and made her feel like slinking down the street in her Jimmy Choos (seventy bucks on sale at Nordstrom!) and making men stare. She’d just turned forty, but she’d be damned if she couldn’t be just as sexy as she had been a decade earlier.

But her silver and black fuck-me stilettos were sitting lonely on the floor of her closet. They were no shoes to be tending bar in. But the lingerie – she thought she could get away with it.

But Mr. Goddamn Gorgeous proved her wrong. Sexy underwear was just fine when she was mixing up endless pitchers of her trademark sangria. But serving fine whiskey to a prime piece of sex god in an Armani tuxedo? Oh, that made her pussy slick and those poor bloomers didn’t stand a chance.

Ronnie shifted uncomfortably and tried not to stare. It was a slow Tuesday night at Aceituna, the tapas place she worked at in mid-town Manhattan. The bar had had only scattered traffic all night. But the man in the tux, he’d been there a good two hours, completely absorbed in his glass of Talisker when he wasn’t looking at her out of the corner of his eye. She didn’t know who he was or why he was hanging around at a pedestrian restaurant like Aceituna, with a reasonable Zagat rating and no plates over thirty bucks. He looked like the type who went only to places with two Michelin stars, minimum.

Dead sexy, the man could be anywhere between forty and sixty, with dark red hair streaked with the slightest touch of silver at the temples. Though he was by no means fat, he was large, the kind of man to make Ronnie feel petite and feminine. He was probably well over six foot if he stood up, and those green-gold eyes held enough banked heat in them to make her blood burn hotter.

A touch of gruff, a touch of suave sophisticate, the man was like some unholy combination of Harrison Ford and Sean Connery in the best of the Bond films.  He looked like he should be drinking a martini or a glass of champagne with a girl half his age clinging to his arm in an evening gown with huge boobs threatening to spill out any moment.

No – that wasn’t right. He was classier than that. He looked like he should be gracing high society functions, an impeccably dressed socialite on his arm. His raw animal magnetism held caged, waiting to spring once he got home to his mistress.

She bit her lip and tightened her thighs together, the ache of sexual frustration growing too much to bear. She could buy an evening dress – second hand of course, or at a good sale at Loehmans, but she certainly had enough cleavage to spill out of it. Or maybe she could be the mistress waiting at home in a sexy teddy with a nice pair of padded handcuffs.