The Story Behind the Story -- Aftershock

This is the sequel to The Patriot, which was part of the Rebels & Rogues 12-month mini-series from Temptation. Aftershock was part of Passion's Quest. This series was only 4 books, one for each of the four elements. The tagline for the series was "Earth, Wind, Fire and Water...the four elements -- but nothing is more elemental than passion."

Earth is the element I chose to write about in Aftershock, basically because the other three were already taken. Here's the blurb:

Rockie Wexler's father has created a device that predicts earthquakes. Unfortunately it can also cause them, and now both Dr. Wexler and the TAQ box have disappeared. Gutsy and brilliant Rockie knows she needs help to rescue her father from the bad guys. Help arrives in the form of Leslie Sheridan. The hard-edged, self-described pain in the butt turns her world upside down. And Sheridan has his own reasons for hating anyone with the name of Wexler.

The TAQ box, short for Tremor and Quake Warning Device, is a figment of my imagination. A couple nights ago I heard a snatch of a radio program about Nikola Tesla, the great 19th-century inventor. He was tinkering with a machine something like the TAQ box. According to the snippet I heard, when the cops and the fire department showed up outside his lab one night after he'd tested the device, he took a hammer to the machine and smashed it to bits.

I hadn't heard that story when I wrote the Prologue for Aftershock, so that was kind of freaky. So was the research I did on earthquakes. I started noticing rock formations and land features as I was out driving around and ended up scaring myself when I realized how many earthquakes had likely occurred around here over the eons.

Aftershock was one of the easiest books I've ever written. It pretty much wrote itself, and that worried me. Easy and effortless isn't a guarantee of good. I kept wondering if I'd screwed up someplace. I fretted that the book was awful, that readers would hate it, but when Aftershock came out I got a ton of letters from readers saying how much they'd loved it. Whew!

My artist friend Judy Johnson designed the cover for the ebook of Aftershock. I love Judy's cover because it depicts an actual scene from the book, one of Rockie's escapes from the bad guys. The primary bad guy is Conan from The Patriot. I had the best time bringing Conan back, and Maxwell, too.

Aftershock has one of the best last lines I think I've ever written in a book: "I love you, Bullwinkle." My other best last line is in Remembrance.

Aftershock is available for Kindle and Nook. And I'm glad to tell Nook readers that The Patriot is finally available in the Nook Store. Yay!

See this link for more on Nikola Tesla. A truly remarkable man.

Christmas in July Sale

I just posted this on the front page of my website, www.lynnmichaels.us:

Can you believe it's July already? At this rate December 25th will be here before we know it! If you can see the Holiday Season peeping over the horizon, here's something to help put you in the mood -- an early Christmas present from me to you, The Cat Before Christmas for 99-cents on Kindle and Nook.

It's never too early to stir the embers of Christmas Spirit: kindness, love, and the joy of family and friends.

The Christmas in July sale runs through July 31st.

Do I hear jingle bells?

Why am I putting The Cat Before Christmas on sale? Two reasons. One, I love this story. I want everyone to read it and love it with me. Two, the economy sucks. I don't care what they say (or spin) in Washington, it sucks. Like you, I cringe when I pull up to the gas pump, I mutter about guns and masks as I push my cart through the grocery store.

We need a break, already! I can live without T-bone steak, but books -- never. So here's a sale to help ease the strain on your book budget. We're all in this together!

The Story Behind the Story -- The Patriot

Since today is the Fourth of July it seemed the perfect time to tell you the story behind The Patriot. This is the last of the easiest-sales-I-ever-made.

The Patriot was part of the Rebels & Rogues mini-series from Temptation. The name Rebels & Rogues pretty much tells you what the editors wanted, a bad boy who was really a hero in disguise.

Here's the Reader Note I wrote for The Patriot:

Like the best emeralds, the most interesting heroes have flaws. It's their imperfections that make them alluring -- for the writer as well as the reader. These defects catch your eye and your breath, add depth and dimension to the story.

When I first envisioned The Patriot, I thought Nevin Maxwell was the hero. But when the phone rang at the beginning of chapter one, Ellison Quade answered. He talked and I listened. He told me about himself, about the Admiral and Max, but mostly he told me about Hallie. "Just get me on a plane for L.A.," he said. "I'll take care of the rest."

Which he did. Up to a point. The most important part of the story he left to Hallie. Making Quade lovable wasn't a problem -- what woman in her right mind wouldn't fall for a sexy gray-eyed Scorpio with hidden, unplumbed depths -- the challenge was making him believe he was lovable. Flaws and all. It took her a while, but Hallie convinced him, Admirably.

And irrevocably.

I really and truly thought Max was going to be the hero of The Patriot. Shows what I know. It's a rare gift when a character like Quade jumps off your fingertips, though Max is no slouch. I still receive emails and letters from readers asking if I'm ever going to write a book about Max and a book about Conan. I will, if I can come up with an idea worthy of them.

When I finished the first three chapters of The Patriot, I called my editor and read her a scene from Chapter Two. In the scene Hallie comes home from work, realizes that Quade has been in her house and rushes to check the security system. Here's the part I read to my editor over the phone:

The security system was on -- it had beeped when she'd let herself in -- but she raced to the walk-in closet in the living room to check it, anyway. It was still on. Damn smart cookie. Hallie doubled her fist on the wall beside the control panel and leaned her head against it. She was shaking.

"Tough guy, huh?" the smart cookie said from behind her.

"Tough girl." Hallie snapped her head around and saw him standing in the closet doorway. "It's hard to tell, I know, but take my word for it."

"Not that hard," he replied, leaning one shoulder against the door frame. "Your system isn't worth beans. Take my word for it."

"It's top-of-the-line, state-of-the-art."

He folded his arms and smiled at her with all the warmth of a glacier. "So am I."

When I finished reading, my editor said, "Hurry up and send me that book so I can buy it." I did and she bought it.

The Patriot is the last book I wrote on my first computer, an Epson QX-10 that cost me $2500 in 1985. Eppie worked on 2 floppy disk drives. The monitor and printer were extra, and not cheap, either, but Eppie sure beat a typewriter, even with her tiny, 8-inch monitor.

Eppie got me through 5 books. The sixth was The Patriot. One day I noticed that the air blowing out of her vents was really warm. The hard plastic case was hot to the touch. I knew that couldn't be good, but I didn't have time to take her in for repair -- the book was due in two weeks. I called my computer guy. He told me to keep Eppie cool, finish the book as fast as I could and bring her in.

I wrote the last 3 chapters in the middle of November with three box fans placed on the seats of three chairs ringed behind mine, and a small oscillating fan on the desk beside my keyboard -- all aimed at and blowing full tilt on Eppie.

I finished the book in ten days, mailed it to my editor and lugged Eppie into the shop. Her power supply was totally fried. My computer guy said I was damn lucky Eppie hadn't blown up or set the house on fire.

Inspiration can come from the strangest places. Did worrying that Eppie might burst into flames give me the idea to blow up Shark Island?

I don't know, but I still wonder.

The Story Behind the Story -- Nightwing and "Forever Knight"

This is the letter I wrote in the front of Nightwing:

Dear Reader,

If your M&M's didn't melt in your hand when Frank Langella turned his head and looked straight into the camera in Dracula, then, my dear, you and I need to talk.

If your pulse didn't race when Errol Flynn buckled his swash in Captain Blood, well then -- never mind.

These are two of my favorite secret fantasies -- vampires and pirates -- which I really enjoyed mixing in Nightwing. I also had a good time poking fun at -- and holes in -- some of the sillier myths about vampires.

There's something deliciously kinky about a tall, dark and handsome man with a widow's peak and very sharp teeth...something dangerously wicked about a tall, dark and handsome man with a gleam in his eye and a frilly white shirt open to the navel...

Turn the page and find out what. And just to be on the safe side, leave the M&M's in the fridge.

And this is the dedication:

With thanks to:
Linda Randall Wisdom, for the "Forever Knight" tapes
Connie Severson, for helping me refine my vision
Nancy Haddock, B.S., M.A, Speech Language Pathology, for double-checking my sign language
Malle Vallik, my editor, for going on vacation at just the right time
Special thanks to:
Frank Langella, Errol Flynn and Geraint Wyn Davies, for their inspiration and very strange dreams

Do you remember Forever Knight? The awesomely cool Canadian vampire series? My husband Michael and I loved it! When our cable company dropped the show after the first season, my good friend and fellow author Linda Randall Wisdom recorded the show for me. Every couple of weeks I received a package of VCR tapes, which I still have.

Here are three interesting bits of trivia about Forever Knight from Internet Movie Database:

"Originally Forever Knight was a two-hour made for TV movie pilot titled Nick Knight starring Rick Springfield as the title character." (I've never seen the pilot but I love Springfield's Jesse's Girl.)

"The title was coined by Geriant Wyn Davies" -- the star and terrific actor that portrayed the vampire main character, Nicholas Knight.

"Ranked #23 in TV Guide's list of the '25 Top Cult Shows Ever!' (May 30, 2004 issue."

I wrote in my first "The Story Behind the Story" post that Once Struck was one of my easiest sales. So was Nightwing.

Because she liked my writing (always a good thing!) my editor did her best to get me into as many of Temptation's mini-series as she could. The Patriot was part of 'Rebels & Rogues', Aftershock 'Passion's Quest', Second Sight 'Lovers & Legends', and Nightwing 'Secret Fantasies.'

When my editor told me about Secret Fantasies I couldn't think of a single thing -- I drew an absolute blank. I'd been dying (pardon the pun) to write a vampire story, but I couldn't get my idea for Nightwing to gel -- until I talked to my friend Connie Severson. Connie was an astrologer; she was also deaf in her right ear. When she asked me to tell her about my vampire character, I started with, "His birthday is in July." Connie thought I said June.

"Oh, that's easy," she replied. "Gemini's are two-faced."

Bing! The light bulb in my head clicked on. I knew exactly what to do with Raven -- split him in half.

Several weeks after our initial conversation, I called my editor and told her I had a great idea for a vampire story. She said sorry, but they'd already bought a vampire story for Secret Fantasies.

I said, "Rats!" She said, "Well, tell me the idea, anyway."

I did, and she said, "Don't go anywhere. I'll call you back in five minutes."

It was more like fifteen, but she called me back after she'd talked to the senior editor. "Write the book," she told me. "We're buying it."

And that was that. Just like Once Struck, I didn't have to write a single word to sell Nightwing.

Ooh! And guess what I just discovered? All three seasons of Forever Knight are available on Netflix!

Oh, Linda -- you may be getting your tapes back!

The Story Behind the Story -- The Cat Before Christmas and the Real Cat Before Christmas

The Cat Before Christmas is the story of Wiki, a Siamese cat that loves Christmas.

The idea hit me about two weeks before Thanksgiving. That didn't give me much time to write a novella and get it up on Kindle in time for Christmas, but I was excited about the story and decided to give it a shot.

I sketched out the plot and came up with my characters: Cary Tyler, Wiki's owner, Carrie's parents Ted and Lorraine, Carrie's friends Pam and Tina, and Ben Kendall, grandson of Charlie, the owner of the Christmas tree lot where Cary always buys her Christmas trees.

The real cat before Christmas is Smokey, the gray tabby that showed up in our driveway the Saturday before Thanksgiving.

I was not looking for a cat. The last of our three Little Queens went to kitty heaven several years ago, and I was enjoying a cat hair-free house. But there he was with his big green eyes. He was very sweet, had a soft voice, and he wasn't pushy -- he was just there. And he kept coming back over the next two weeks.

I agonized about that cat -- and the coyote that sleeps in our backyard. I talked to Michael. He said okay, let the cat in, and I did the next time Smokey wandered by. He's been here ever since.

He's a grown-up, he's been neutered, and he has all his claws. I worried about my furniture, but Smokey doesn't scratch. He comes into my office and sits by my chair until I take my feet off the footrest, which has a surface like Astroturf. That's where Smokey scratches. It only took him a couple of months to train me to do this.

In January we gave up searching lost cat ads and took Smokey to the vet. She gave him a physical, figured by his teeth that he's about 8 years old, and drew blood. Fifteen minutes later she told us that Smokey tested positive for FIV, feline immunodeficiency virus.

My heart sank. FIV is passed through saliva so likely Smokey was bitten by another cat with FIV. Just as HIV can progress to AIDS, so can FIV progress to feline AIDS. But, our vet was quick to explain, it doesn't always, and many FIV positive cats live long and healthy lives.

Michael wondered if FIV was the reason Smokey had been kicked to the curb. The vet thought he'd probably been infected while he was homeless. Her guess was the economy had put Smokey on the streets.

In multiple cat families a FIV positive cat is usually destroyed to avoid spreading the disease. We told the vet that we have no other cats and we wanted to keep Smokey.

He was underweight, just 10 pounds. He had a fungus infection in his ears, caused by his weakened immune system. The vet gave him two shots: his first rabies and the feline leukemia vaccine. She sent us home with an oral antibiotic to boost his immune system, salve for his ears and bad news for Smokey -- no more going outside because he could infect other cats.

That would be like telling me I could never eat chocolate again. Smokey was not happy about no more strolls around the neighborhood. He darted out the door a couple of times, but as soon as I yelled, "Smokey!" in my mother voice he froze until I picked him up and took him back in the house.

In February I took Smokey to the vet for his second rabies shot. The fungus infection in his ears had cleared up and he'd gained one whole pound. Our vet was thrilled that he'd responded so well to the antibiotic; she was actually grinning. So was I, but Smokey was sill not happy about being a shut-in.

Then I had a brilliant idea. Our deck sits a story off the ground and has no steps. "Why can't we let Smokey out on the deck?" I asked Michael. He replied, "He'll jump off." I said, "Only if he has a death wish. The rail is too high." Most cats won't jump if they can't see where they'll land. Michael argued that he'd jump through the gap between spindles, but we agreed to give it a try.

For a week Smokey was as good as gold. Then one morning Michael let him out at 5:30 and yep -- Smokey bailed, probably through the spindles; in the dark, no less. Michael grabbed the flashlight, went out and found him and hauled him back in the house.

The next Saturday Michael went to Home Depot. He bought two rolls of aluminum screen, which is tough enough that Smokey can't shred it with his claws, and stapled it over the spindles on the deck rail. Smokey spent an hour sniffing every inch of that screen looking for a hole. Then he gave up, flopped down in the sun and went to sleep. The photo is Smokey surveying his domain. He's the only cat in Kansas City with his own private sun porch.

What does Smokey's story have to do with The Cat Before Christmas? Everything. I wasn't looking for a cat, but Smokey found me and purred his way into my heart. Cary Tyler mowed down a fence to reclaim Wiki when he ran away. Michael built one so Smokey could go outside and be happy and safe.

Smokey picked me, but I picked Michael. My husband is the best choice I ever made.

Nightwing New Cover & Vampire Reading List

One nice thing about publishing my backlist titles on my own is this -- I can change things whenever I want. Like the cover of Nightwing. Here's the new one. What do you think?

If you like vampire romances and you're looking for something to read on your Kindle this weekend, click on the list for buy links through the Vamp Chix blog, "Hot Summer Deals on Vamp Reads".

Kimberly Van Meter designed the new cover for Nightwing. Kim is also an author, and she has a book on the list. Here are all the titles:

Drink My Blood -- Phoebe Conn
Lost -- Lori Devoti
Found -- Lori Devoti
Wicked Angels -- Michelle Hauf
Vampire Career -- Phoebe Matthews
The Reckoning -- Kimberly Van Meter
Nightwing -- Lynn Michaels

I adore vampire stories. My favorite for-laughs vampires movie is Love at First Bite. My favorite line is (I'm paraphrasing) "Don't mind the mess -- housework killed my mother."

Remember the 1979 version of Dracula, and the scene where Frank Langella as Dracula turned his head as he was climbing the wall and looked straight into the camera? My M&M's melted in my hand, right through the bag. Terrible ending; otherwise a cool movie.

Happy Father's Day -- and happy reading!

The First Daylily of Summer

Isn't she a beaut? A big, 6-inch lemon yellow bloom -- the first one to pop in my daylily bed on the west side of the house.

What's the name of this daylily? Uh, I think it's "Big Bird", but I wouldn't take any bets. A serious gardener would know the variety name. A serious gardener would have written the name in permanent ink on a plant stake and stuck it in the dirt.

Do I own plant stakes? Yes. Do I own a Sharpie? Yes. Did I intend to label this daylily? Yes, but somehow I never got to around to it.

I used to do the same thing with photographs. I always meant to label them, to write names and dates on the back, but I never got around to that, either. Drove my husband Michael crazy. Digital cameras solved the photo problem, but my flowerbeds are still a guessing game.

I have a really odd looking daylily that's budded out, but not blooming yet. All the buds are on one central stalk. I don't recall ever seeing a daylily like this, and of course, I didn't label it when I planted it.

I'll post a photo when it blooms. Maybe one of you can tell me the name. If so I promise I'll dig out my plant stakes and my Sharpie.

Once Struck -- The Story Behind the Story

My agent called me in the spring of 1995 and asked if I'd like to write a novella for a summer storm anthology being put together by St. Martin's Press for publication in 1996. She'd attended a party with an SMP editor and talked up my books. I said sure, and within a few weeks I received the contract.

Once Struck was the easiest sale I've ever made. I didn't have to type a single word. My agent made this sale, which shows you the advantage of having an agent with good connections.

My agent told me to write a contemporary story of about 100 pages with a rural American background and a summer storm as the climax of the plot. I said, "Can do" and started thinking.

My initial idea was tractors, maybe a tractor race might be fun. I was playing around with that when my agent called and said oops, she'd misunderstood. The editor wanted a historical novella, not a contemporary.

"No problem," I said, though I wondered how many adult beverages were consumed at that party. Then I sighed, scratched the tractor race and headed for the Agricultural Hall of Fame in Bonner Springs, Kansas.

This is a fascinating place. Room after room of wonderful exhibits and antique farm equipment. I saw a grain cradle -- a long-handled, long-fingered scythe -- like the one Peach MaCauley used to harvest her wheat.

That's a cradle in the photo. Weird looking thing, isn't it? My thanks to Craig at Stoney Acres Farm in Linden, Michigan for permission to use this photo from his website. If you'd like to see some of the other things Peach uses in the story, check out the Stoney Acres site.

Field trip over, I headed home and started writing. My agent called and asked what kind of a storm I planned to use in the story; the editor wanted to know. I told her a tornado. She said thanks and hung up. Then she called back and told me I'd have to come up with a different storm because one of the other authors in the anthology had a tornado in her story. I sighed again, but said, "Okay, make it a hailstorm."

Then I ripped up what I had and started over for the third time . In case you missed my first post, here's the final version of Once Struck:

Nebraska, 1973

Alone in the world...

Peach MaCauley has only 40 acres of wheat standing between her and becoming a poor relation. On the eve of the harvest a storm threatens her crop -- and her independence. Only one man steps forward to help her...one man she's not sure she should trust.

Kit Taggart is no longer the dirt-poor boy with soulful brown eyes who kissed her behind the church at the Fourth of July Social. now he's a handsome, hard-edged ex-soldier. His price for saving Peach and her crop is one night with her -- all night, from dusk to dawn.

That was the last phone call from my agent, thank God. All the starts and stops had put me way behind on my deadline. I wasn't the only one frustrated by all the "Oops" phone calls -- so were Peach and Kit. Once I sat down to write, they jumped to life and took over. I was typing as fast as I could to keep up with them, until I finished Chapter 7.

I woke up the next morning so sick I could barely stand. I was dizzy, had a horrible cough and my back was killing me. The day before I was fine, right as rain. Michael came home from work at noon and took me to the doctor. I had pneumonia, and Once Struck was due in 10 days.

My agent and the editor said don't worry, get better and then finish the book. I slept for 5 days straight, hooked up the laptop and finished Once Struck in a cough syrup-induced haze. I only missed my deadline by 2 weeks. Not bad for typing two paragraphs and coughing my head off, typing two more and coughing my head off until I finished the story.

I was a little nervous about those last 3 chapter, but I was pretty happy once I'd read them in the page proofs. So happy I wondered if maybe I should write everything under the influence of cough syrup.

Murphy's Law says if anything can go wrong it will. Here's the writer's version of Murphy's Law: If anything can wrong it will -- a week before your deadline.

Where in the World Was Lynn?

I haven't been here, on Facebook, Twitter or anyplace else for a while. So where have I been?

I'd love to tell you cruising the Caribbean, but the truth is that since the first of April I've been at the chiropractor 3 times a week. I have 4 pinched nerves in my back. Possibly more. My lumbar spine is so smashed together that neither my chiropractor nor the radiologist that read my x-rays can tell how many for sure.

I'd also love to tell you I did this bungee jumping or playing polo, but no -- I fell down our front steps in January while I was shoveling snow. Eight-inches of white stuff that hid 2-inches of ice underneath -- which of course I didn't see until I'd cleared the snow.

I was happily shoveling my way down the steps with the little blue plastic shovel that our grandson Zachery used when he was five. About the time I decided that I should probably be shoveling UP rather than DOWN, I realized I was standing on solid ice.

A half-second later my husband Michael, who was shoveling the drive with a really big shovel that looks like it belongs on the front end of a snowplow hollered at me, "Get off those steps!"

The power of suggestion was all it took. My feet shot out from under me and I bounced down five ice-crusted concrete steps on my tailbone. When I landed at the bottom, I jumped to my feet to make sure Michael hadn't seen my Three Stooges descent.

He hadn't, thank God; his back was turned.

Astonishingly, I could move, and I wasn't in screaming agony so I kept shoveling as far up the flight as I could without climbing the steps until Michael finished the drive and took over.

The possibility that I'd pinched 4 nerves and that was why my back didn't hurt, never occurred to me. That is a special kind of stupid. I should have known better.

When I was 14 I went sideways off a horse (I wasn't playing polo then, either) knocked myself cold and crushed a disc between my shoulder blades.

Then I grew up and became a writer. Lots of writers have back problems because we sit all day. The last time my back went kaflooie I was racing to finish Honeymoon Suite. I could do anything but sit. I ended up at a sports medicine doctor.

Post MRI he diagnosed the problem as occupational stress -- sitting on my fanny at a computer for 20-plus years. He told me that fixed keyboard trays should be banned because they keep you in the same position all day long. He recommended voice recognition software and a really good chair.

I bought the chair that you see in the photo. It's unoccupied because I haven't been in it. The arms adjust up and down or forward and back. The seat goes up and down, too.

The platform on the front of my desk is an incremental keyboard tray. This is its highest position. I can stand and type at this height, when I can stand; I'll get to that in a minute. I can also lower it nearly to the floor. It adjusts incrementally, which means I can move it an inch or two or just a hair. That's all it takes to change my position.That's a Microsoft Natural Ergonomic keyboard.

The chair and the incremental keyboard tray got me through Honeymoon Suite, but they were no help this time.

The pain started in my knees in March. Silly me, I thought the problem was my knees. I loaded up on MSM with Glucosamine, but within a week I could barely stand, let alone walk. The dinner plate size bruise on the left side of my fanny had faded, but my back still didn't hurt. I went to the chiropractor anyway on April third, he took x-rays, showed me where the nerves were likely pinched, and I've been on his table 3-times a week ever since.

On Tuesday I posted about the release of Once Struck. That's the first day I've been able to sit in my really good chair for more than 10 minutes. Until then the most comfortable position for me was lying down or leaning against a wall or the kitchen counters. I could sit on the couch for 20 minutes, the recliner for 5, a kitchen chair for maybe 10. I was like Goldilocks; too hard, too soft.

I'm back now, but I'm taking it slow, not overdoing it. Look for my new weekly blog series "The Story Behind the Story" beginning on Monday, June 13.

What's the lesson I learned from this experience? Listen to the guy with the big shovel.

Just In Time For Summer

Here's Once Struck, the Western historical novella I wrote for the anthology Unchained Lightning published by St. Martin's press.

Since I never received a royalty statement, I'm guessing maybe four people on the planet bought the book. Here's your chance to be the fifth!

From the original cover: "Summer is nature's most tempestuous time for storms...and stormy hearts." Each story in the anthology revolved around a storm.

Here's the blurb for Once Struck:

Nebraska, 1873

Alone in the world...

Peach MaCauley has only 40 acres of wheat standing between her and becoming a poor relation. On the eve of the harvest a storm threatens her crop -- and her independence. Only one man steps forward to help her...one man she's not sure she should trust.

Kit Taggart is no longer the dirt-poor boy with soulful brown eyes who kissed her behind the church at the Fourth of July Social. Now he's a handsome, hard-edged ex-soldier. His price for saving Peach and her crop is one night with her...all night, from dusk to dawn.

If she accepts, she'll be ruined. If she declines, she'll be destitute. But what choice does she have?

Once Struck is now available for $1.99 on Kindle and Nook.

On Monday, June 13, I'm launching a weekly blog series, "The Story Behind the Story" with a piece on how I came to write Once Struck. There's a story behind every story an author writes.

Most of the time I'm ripping my hair out trying to think of things to blog about, so this series will give me 18 weeks worth of material. Yippee!

Mother's Day Sale -- Books for 99 Cents!

One of my favorite sites, Daily Cheap Reads, is running a Mother's Day Special -- featuring Kindle Books for 99 cents!

Here's a teaser from the site:

"Beach reading, vacation, evenings on the patio...with our Kindles. To ensure you have plenty of great reading material, we are going to post 99 cent books only starting Sunday, May 8 at 10:00 pm. We have so many books there will be a post at the top of every hour for at least 48 hours -- maybe longer as the book list continues to grow."

I'm participating in the special by offering The Patriot for 99 cents. Amazon has already lowered the price so hurry on over and grab a copy. The Patriot will be on sale until Friday, May 13th.

Happy Reading and Happy Mother's Day!

No Fooling!

An appropriate title for April first, don't you think?

In the spirit of the day here's a headline that cracked me up:

"SFWA SUES INDIVIDUALS, CORPORATIONS, NATIONS AND GOD FOR COPYRIGHT INFRINGEMENT"

SFWA is the Science Fiction Writers of America. Read the entire spoof here. It's hilarious.

In other, this is not a joke news, on Monday I did an interview with David Wisehart at his Kindle Author Blog. This is a great blog, and great place to keep up with new, cool books available on Kindle.

Here's a fun find I made on the Internet:

The Duke's Downfall, the Regency I originally wrote for Fawcett as Jane Lynson is #604 on the list of "1001 Best Romance Novels" voted by Readers of Romantic Time Magazine. I was tickled pink to discover this.

Thanks to Kindle readers The Duke's Downfall and its prequel, Captain Rakehell, are still in the Top 50 of the Kindle Bestsellers List in Regency Romance.

Romance readers rock. No fooling!

Spring Has Sprung -- Pass the Puffs

The grass is greening, the trees are budding, and I'm sneezing my head off. That's the box of Puffs that sits on my desk.

I still blame Kansas for this. See my post A Funny Thing Happened for why I blame the Sunflower State for my screwed up sinuses.

Last year spring came late, but it hit like a thunderbolt. Temperatures in the high 70's and astronomical pollen counts. I opened the windows and ended up with a yellow dining room table; that's how much pollen was in the air.

My summer was one long misery of sinus infection after sinus infection. Actually, I think it was just one infection that never cleared up, but what do I know? I'm only a writer.

In August I gave up and went to see the ENT doctor who saved me after my disastrous run-in with Kansas.

He told me I have a deviated septum, a crooked sinus passage on the right side. That was part of the problem. He also suspected that I'd developed an allergy to something. He prescribed a sinus spray that finally gave me relief. When the first hard freeze killed everything outside my symptoms vanished, almost as quickly as flipping a light switch.

I could breathe and I was happy -- until mid-February of this year when the trees started to wake up and my symptoms returned. Stuffy nose and cough due to post-nasal drip. Remember the TV commercial with the big, sniffling red-tipped nose walking around on little stick legs? That was me.

I learned my lesson last year so I went straight to the ENT doctor. He put me on a 6-day course of steroids to calm the symptoms and suggested 10-mg. Zyrtec.

Knowing zip about allergy medications, I took myself to our neighborhood pharmacy. I bought a package of 10-mg. Zyrtec-D. The clerk had to scan my driver's license and I had to sign a statement on the electronic pad promising that I wouldn't abuse the product. I said to the clerk, "Like this is going to stop anybody who wants to make meth."

Anyway. The Zyrtec-D dried up my nose, my eyes, my skin, my throat and my mouth. I drank tons of water plus two 20-ounce bottles of Gatorade's low cal G-2 every day and still didn't have enough saliva to swallow. I tried Allergra next, but it upset my stomach.

This was not going well.

At the grocery store a couple days later I discovered 10-mg. over the counter Zyrtec, sans the decongestant, and bought that without fear of being arrested for running a meth lab in the basement. I took one before I went to bed that night and fell into a 13-hour coma.

When the fog lifted -- as John Denver used to say, "Take a trip and never leave the farm" -- I examined the tablets and saw that they're scored, which means it's okay to cut them in half.

I gave myself a head slap and cut the tabs in two. That's a 5-mg. dose instead of 10. I take half at night, the other half after lunch, and now I can stay awake to write. Yes, I'm writing a new book. Two, actually. I'll tell you about them later. (That's what writers call foreshadowing.)

To my fellow allergy sufferers: If we pool our funds maybe we can buy a few shares of stock in Proctor & Gamble, the company that manufactures Puffs. I believe it's in our best interests to keep these folks in business.

Daily Cheap Reads

I love this site. If you own a Kindle, you will, too.

Here's a snippet of their mission statement:

"Every day, we list cheap reads available for your Kindle e-reader through Amazon. We guarantee no book will ever be priced over $5. At least once a day we post a SuperCheap read for less than $2. We also post FREE books as soon as they become available. The only thing better than cheap is free."

This month Daily Cheap Reads is featuring backlist titles that are available on Kindle. Tomorrow, Monday February 7, Daily Cheap Reads is giving three of my books a mention in their 10 AM post. Click on the link to see which three.

Okay. End of shameless plug -- now back to Daily Cheap Reads.

This is the best site I've found for discovering books that I'd likely miss if I were surfing Amazon on my own. I mean, really, who has that kind of time? I don't know where the good folks at Daily Cheap Reads find the time, but I'm glad and grateful that they do.

The site is devoted solely to Kindle books. It's attractive, easy to read, straightforward and a breeze to navigate.

Follow the link above and bookmark Daily Cheap Reads. You can also follow them on Facebook and Twitter.

You'll be glad you did. I am.

A Funny Thing Happened

One of the nicest things I get to do as a published author is travel. Mostly to writers conferences where I get to see my writer friends.

The Boston Romance Writers of America conference was just weird. The hotel was very old, and I swear it was haunted. There were two fire alarms late at night. During the second one I smelled smoke. Or was it sulfur?

I flew to Denver for another RWA Conference, but drove home to Kansas City with a friend. An eight-hour, seven hundred and fifty mile drive across Kansas in July.

First, it was hotter than blazes. Second, my sinuses went nuts. We were rained on, and I mean rained. I kept looking for Noah and the Ark. Instead I saw a tornado drawing a bead on I-70. Thankfully, it dissipated. The rain ended, we were back in the inferno, it rained again, then dumped us back into the blast furnace.

Last we drove through a brush fire. By the time we got home I couldn't breathe or hear. When I told my husband Michael about the trip he said, "What? No plague or pestilence?"

I've had trouble with my sinuses and my right ear ever since. I blame Kansas. Don't drive to Denver. Fly, both ways. Trust me.

The most fun RWA conference I attended was in Hawaii in 1995. My fourth Harlequin Temptation, Aftershock, was nominated for a RITA, the Oscar of romance writing. I wanted to be there in case I won. I didn't, but I had a wonderful time in Hawaii.

On the shuttle bus from the airport to the hotel, I saw Diamond Head. The driver said it was open to the public and you could climb all the way to the top. That's all I needed to hear. I live in Missouri. When would I ever get another chance to climb a volcano?

My friend and fellow author Linda Randall Wisdom, is as nuts as I am. She agreed to go with me. What's left of the cone in only 761 feet high. Piece of cake, we figured. That's Linda and I in the photo on the left.

We went on the bus early one morning, got off at the wrong stop and ended up walking halfway to Diamond Head. All uphill. We finally got there and followed the road that's cut through the side of the mountain into the crater, which is so huge it looks like another country. That should have been our first clue.

Initially, the hike wasn't bad. The path was nice and wide and paved, but the higher we climbed, the narrower and rockier the path became, and the iron railing enclosing it kept getting taller. On our of our stops to breathe and drink water, we saw a sign warning tourists not to leave the trail. Several had in the past year and died. That gave us pause, but we were determined. And stupid. Did I mention that?

On we climbed, huffing and puffing, our calf muscles burning and our knees turning to Jell-O. We were almost there, almost to the summit we thought, when we came to The Stairway to Ben-Gay. So steep we couldn't see the breaks between the steps, let alone the top.

"We can do this," Linda said, hooking her arm through mine. "Just pretend there's a shoe sale up there."

What a pal. And that's how we made it. All the way up those God-awful stairs, through the tunnel beyond and up a flight of spiral iron steps to the top of Diamond Head. That's me in the photo on the right, trying to look nonchalant while leaning on the rail to keep from falling on my face with exhaustion.

From that vantage point, we realized how close we were to the stinking volcano from our hotel. Close enough to spit and hit it, if only we'd followed the beach. We did on the way back. Took off our shoes and strolled back to the hotel along the sand in less than half the time it took us to get there on the bus. I brought home a t-shirt that says on the front: I CLIMBED DIAMOND HEAD AND LIVED.

On the back it says: After 299 Steps, Dark Tunnel, Spiral Staicase (Yes, it's misspelled. Misspellings haunt me) No Lights, No Water, You Better Believe...I EARNED THIS T-SHIRT.

I still have the shirt, and I still wear it proudly. I get a lot of comments in the grocery store.

What Sells A Book?

It may surprise you, but no one knows. That may be the biggest secret in publishing. Well, not anymore because I just told you. Anyway, editors, publishers, executive editors, agents and the gurus in the marketing department don't have a clue what compels readers to buy a book.

Is it the cover? That's the starting point, an attractive, eye-catching cover will, editors and art directors hope, prompt readers to pick the book up in Barnes & Noble and Borders.

That's why once upon a time, hand selling was so important. At Waldenbooks (which is no more, alas) leading the customer to the section and placing the book in his or her hand was the #1 duty of every clerk. I know because I used to work at Waldenbooks. Best job I ever had -- I loved it! 'Course I spent most of my paycheck on books.

I told you in my "Favorite Books" post how awful the original covers were for The Patriot and Aftershock. To prove I'm not exaggerating I'm showing them to you above. As the old saying goes a picture is worth a thousand words.

In fairness to publishers, and Harlequin in particular with all their category lines, the art department has to crank out a lot of covers every month. That's a ton of work. Every cover can't be a masterpiece, and Harlequin did give me two splendid covers, for Second Sight and Nightwing.

I pulled the covers of The Patriot and Aftershock off the Internet so they're on the small side. If you look closely at the cover of The Patriot you'll see that my name is misspelled, Lynne Michaels instead of Lynn Michaels. This is the only book that Lynne with an e Michaels ever wrote. If readers sailed into Waldenbooks or Barnes & Noble in 1992 and asked if The Patriot by Lynn Michaels was in stock they were told no. The editorial department at Temptation felt so bad about the screw up that they sent me flowers.

When I received the cover flat for The Patriot I called my editor and said, "I'm pretty sure I never said in the book that Quade (the hero) has ears like jugs."

At the next RWA National Conference, Harlequin gifted me with a 24 x 18 poster of The Patriot mounted on foam board. They shouldn't have, really, but I schlepped it home and stood in on the floor against the bookcases in my office. Every time my husband Michael walked by he turned the poster face to the wall. He called it the Ugly Man cover.

Print published authors have no control over covers. We get what we get, and we're stuck with it. That's one thing I love about e-books. I get to create the cover.

It took me a while to figure out what the Harlequin art department was going for with the cover of Aftershock. Here's a sentence from the back cover blurb: "Rockie Wexler's father had created a device that would predict earthquakes. Unfortunately, it could also cause them, and now both Dr. Addison Wexler and the machine had disappeared."

I think all the rocks and cracks in the background are supposed to represent earthquake fissures. I think. What's your guess?

Wow! I Made Two Bestseller Lists!

My two Regency romances are on the Kindle Bestsellers in Regency Romance List, and the Kindle Bestseller in Regency Historical Romances List!

The Duke's Downfall is #3 on the Regency Romance List, #4 on the Regency Historical List. Captain Rakehell is #6 on both lists! Look fast -- these lists update several times a day.

Thank you, Kindle readers! With all my heart, thank you!

I'm amazed and excited. Amazed because I wrote these books 20 years ago. Excited because it means there's still a market for short Regency romances. New York publishers gave up on them years ago, because they thought the readership was too small. Obviously Kindle readers disagree.

In the early 90's when I wrote Captain Rakehell and and The Duke's Downfall, Fawcett, Signet, Avon and Kensington (if memory serves) all published 4 to 6 short Regencies every month. These short novels were less than 60,000 words. I call them category romances for the ton; that's a Regency term for the British aristocracy.

I love the Regency period, and I love Regency romances. I've read zillions of them. Everyone who loves Regencies loves Georgette Heyer. My second favorite Regency author is Marion Chesney. My favorite of all her books is Deirdre and Desire.

I wrote Captain Rakehell first about Lord Lesley Earnshaw. The Duke's Downfall is the sequel about Lesley's older brother, Charles, the Duke of Braxton. I'd planned to write a third book about Charles and Lesley's youngest brother, Teddy, and then New York decided to throw in the towel on Regency romances.

That was then, and this is now so sometime this year I'll write that third book about Teddy. The title is The Terror of the Ton, which describes Teddy perfectly. I can't wait to get started!

Thanks again, Kindle readers! You're the best!

And thanks to the very talented Pati Nagle for the great covers.

Favorite Books

One of the toughest questions for an author to answer is "Of all the books you've written which one is your favorite?" I've been known to go totally blank when asked that, but I'll usually say, "All of them." I don't mean that to sound pat or off hand, it's simply the truth.

If you asked me "Which one of your books did you enjoy writing the most?" two that come instantly to mind are The Patriot and Aftershock. I had more fun writing those books than a person alone in a room with a computer should be allowed to have. I'm glad there are no laws against that.

The bad guy in both stories is a mercenary named Conan. That's not his real name -- no one knows his real name, not even Interpol -- that's just what he's called because he resembles Arnold Schwarzenegger, who was only a movie actor when I wrote the books. Conan makes his first appearance in The Patriot and returns in Aftershock.

Like the Terminator, another of Arnold's iconic characters, thanks to the boom in e-readers like Kindle and Nook, The Patriot and Aftershock are baa-aack -- and so in Conan -- this time as e-books.

Preserving books is the coolest thing about e-publishing. A book never goes out of print; there's no spine to crack and drop pages, and you can't lose it or leave it in the dentist's office.

For authors, especially category romance authors (The Patriot and Aftershock were first published by Harlequin Temptation) this is a huge thrill. Why? Because the average shelf life of a category romance is three weeks. A book that took me 6 to 9 months to write has a sales window of 21 days and then, pffft -- it's gone, outta there, pulled off the shelf to make room for the next month's titles. That's heartbreaking for authors, and frustrating for readers who really wanted the book but somehow missed it. I know because I've been one of those readers.

Bookstores don't return whole copies of mass market paperbacks. They strip the covers and return those to the publisher for credit. The rest of the book is tossed in a dumpster. It boggles the mind when you think how many trees died only to end up in a landfill.

And speaking of covers, whoever said you can't tell a book by its cover must have seen the original covers of The Patriot and Aftershock.

The Patriot had the worst cover ever, my editor even said so. Aftershock wasn't much better, but it was nominated for a RITA award, the Oscar of romance writing. Authors have no control over covers. We get what we get, and we all hold our breath waiting to see what the art department comes up with.

My good friend Judy Johnson, a very talented artist, created the e-book covers for The Patriot and Aftershock that I'm sharing with you here. I love them!

If you like suspense and adventure with your romance then The Patriot and Aftershock are your kind of books. I hope you'll enjoy them, but there's no rush. They'll be waiting for you on Amazon and Barnes and Noble, as they say in fairy tales forever and a day.

E-books are a win for authors and a win for readers. Hallelujah! Can I have an amen?

Excerpt from The Cat Before Christmas

Here’s the excerpt I promised from The Cat Before Christmas:

All week long Wiki hunted the spider. He knew its scent, dry and desiccated like a cicada casing, faintly ashy from hanging out in the flue. He searched, he stalked; he lay in wait still as a statue for hours near the fireplace, by the dining room window where he picked up the spider’s scent Wednesday afternoon.

Friday morning a hastily spun web caught his right ear as he shook his paws stepping out of his litter box in the back hall. He whirled, ready to pounce, and heard only an echo of eight eyes’ laughter coming from -- the sun porch!

The door to the sun porch had a glass top half. The tallest thing in the hallway was the old microwave cart Cary parked outside the kitchen. An ivy plant in a blue ceramic teacup sat on the top of the cart. It was a tight space, but if he gauged it just right…

Wiki dug his back claws into the braided rug in front of his box and vaulted onto the cart. He turned carefully to avoid knocking the plant onto the floor and saw the spider swinging by a thread of silk from the ceiling in the sun porch.

How did you get out there? Wiki growled.

Wouldn’t you like to know, furball?

Little chilly out there for the likes of you, isn’t it?

I find it bracing.

The furnace cycled. The blower came on, and warm air fluttered up from the wall vents in the hallway. From the vents Cary kept open all winter on the sun porch, too, stirring the silk suspending eight eyes on the other side of the window.

“I’ve got the world on a string,” the spider sang, his voice raspy enough to pass for Frank Sinatra past his prime.

Wiki hissed. If I promise not to eat you will stop singing?

Eight eyes started on the second verse. Wiki raced into the bedroom. He snagged the spread with his claws, tugged it down and stuck his head under Cary’s pillow to drown out the spider’s voice.

He was still there when she came home from school, happy and humming because it was Friday and she was going to a movie tonight with Tina. Wiki had heard them making plans on the phone last night.

“I had a hypothetical, what would you think if I went skiing for Christmas chat with mom today,” Cary had told Tina. "Her face almost hit the floor, but I planted a seed for next Christmas. If you and Pam want to take another ski trip then I can go."

Ski trip? Wiki had pricked his ears. What ski trip?

Cary sat with her ankles crossed on the window seat in the dining room talking to Tina on the cordless phone. Wiki sat on the floor pretending to clean his ears. His hearing was sharp enough to pick up Tina’s reply.

"Awesome," she'd said. “For next year we're thinking about a weeklong Caribbean cruise. You'll have the time off from school, and Pam and I can save up our vacation days."

"Oooh,” Cary sighed. Wiki sat close enough that he could feel the thrill of gooseflesh that shot through her. "I'd love that."

Wiki stared at Cary. Was she crazy? She wasn’t going anywhere at Christmas! Thank the catnip gods for Lorraine. She’d put the kibosh on the ski trip. He could take care of the cruise.

That’s what starts all the trouble for Wiki, the cat who loves Christmas, and launches his plan to keep Cary from going skiing. To paraphrase the Scottish poet Robert Burns, the best laid plans of mice and men -- or in this case cats -- often go askew.

I hope you’ll enjoy reading The Cat Before Christmas as much as I enjoyed writing it.

And remember: From now until January 31, 2011, I’m donating 15% of all proceeds to Wayside Waifs and The Humane Society of Kansas City.

Happy day after Christmas!

The Real Cat Before Christmas

Yes, he’s real, and he’s now a member of our family. He’s not Siamese like Wiki in The Cat Before Christmas, he’s just a cat, a big gray grown-up boy. He showed up the Saturday before Thanksgiving.

A few days before the idea for The Cat Before Christmas hit me like a lightning bolt. I hadn’t given a single thought to writing anything but a grocery list in four years. Interestingly, that’s what I was doing when the idea struck -- making a grocery list for Thanksgiving dinner.

That Saturday our youngest son Paul and I took the list to the grocery store and did the shopping. When we pulled into the driveway the cat appeared, a big, beautiful gray cat with green eyes and a shiny, groomed coat. He wasn’t a stray; he was healthy and well cared for. We assumed he was just strolling by and stopped to say hello.

But he kept hanging around. I’d see him when I went out to get the mail. On Mondays and Wednesdays when I met our grandson Zachery at the school bus the cat was also there to meet Zack. Zack loves cats. So do I. Cats know who loves them and who doesn’t.

The cat wasn’t obnoxious or pushy. He sat politely, looking up at Zack and me with his big green eyes. He followed us to the front door. Each time I saw him he looked thinner and rougher. This went on for two weeks. I was starting to worry. Where was his family? Why was he now, obviously, homeless? What had happened?

I checked the online lost and found notices, the bulletin boards in the grocery stores -- no gray cat with green eyes lost in our neighborhood. I was really worried about him now -- and the big coyote that sleeps in our backyard on sunny days.

When we lost the last two of our three cats, The Little Queens, Michael and I swore off cats, but this guy’s plight was driving me crazy. I talked to Michael. “If you want to let him in the house, go ahead,” he said. “But just one cat.”

The next day was Wednesday. I was prepared. I had cat food and a cat box ready. When Zack got off the bus, there was the cat. He followed us home. Zack petted him while I filled bowls with water and food. I fed the cat and I petted him.

I went in the house and came outside a few minutes later and petted him some more. I did this three times. The fourth time I simply opened the door. He looked up at me with his big green eyes, meowed and stepped delicately into the living room.

Michael named him Smokey because he's like a puff of smoke; one minute he’s not there and the next he is. Michael also calls him Senor Smoke (after the Minnesota Twins pitcher Juan Berenguer) because he’s not a kid -- he’s a grown-up. Zack calls him Gray Stripe. I call him Smoke.

He has impeccable manners. He has all his claws, but he doesn’t use them. He’s very careful if he jumps in your lap, and he hasn’t scratched one thing in my house. He goes outside, but he always comes back. He loves to be brushed. He puts his chin on my shoulder and purrs when I pick him up.

Life imitates art so be careful what you write about. I wrote about a cat, and now I have one. And I’m glad.