Walking The Line Between Serious And Silly



FATHERS QUEST EXCERPT

Debra Solonen is my guest today and is the author of over 30 books, including  THE SENTINEL PASS SERIES. 

Her series combines elements of serious and silly, weighty issues and just plain fun. Debra's series tagline gives you a hint of what to expect, "In this town—and in this TV show—life imitates art."

Today Debra discusses writing humor into her stories and gives us a scene she didn't think would make it into her book. I have to say just picturing a scene like this cracked me up.



 
I love to read books that contain elements of humor. It doesn't have to be over-the-stop. In fact, slapstick is extremely hard to write. Believe me, I've tried. I usually get a scolding from my editor.


Something like,


“You're trying too hard here.”


“I don't find this humorous.”


“Less is more.”


Or the worst: a sad face.


I dread upside-down-heart sad faces. (Don't you think that should be an icon? And who agrees we need a thumbs-down on Facebook?)

Sorry. I digress. The point I'm trying to make is, with humor, everything is relative. I write the scene I see in my head and sometimes—not always—it works.

For example, I did NOT expect the following scene to make the cut in my book, UNTIL HE METRACHEL. And, yet, my editor adorned it with smiley faces and LOLs, and I've heard from a lot of readers who said it was their favorite scene in the book.


What do you think? Thumbs-up or upside-down heart?

She’d turned to finish picking up the boxes but something stopped her.

Rufus glanced around. “Uh-oh.” He put his hands on his hips. “Fred,” he boomed. “What have you done to Rachel’s…um…sex toys?”


Rufus leaned down to pick up the object Rat Girl had dropped beside his booted foot. The handle of the hot pink whip was as long as his forearm but tapered to a fine point, which was adorned with ribbons and brilliant purple feathers. He couldn’t have been more surprised if a marching band of elves had suddenly appeared.


He cleared his throat and picked up the gaudy, over-the-top instrument of…um…pleasure? He hated to admit he wasn’t sure how it might be used, but his initial impression of Rachel had changed. And a certain part of him could even envision testing out the silly thing. With her.


“Oh, my,” she said, her gaze following as a couple of bright feathers drifted back to the snow.


“Sorry,” he said, handing the whip to her, blunt end first, as if it were a knife or a loaded pistol.


Her chin rose with a kind of dignity Rufus admired, but her attempted smile betrayed her. “Faulty boxing. That happens when you hire family,” she said, a little hitch in her voice.


He was a single step away from her. Even in the dry, cold breeze, he could smell her. Not the cedar, pine, dog and earth he was most familiar with, but something fresh and feminine that he realized with a start he’d been craving. Their gazes met and held for what felt like too long. Especially given the nature of the objects scattered on the ground around them.


He was the first to move. He started toward the wreck of a box, intending to cram anything and everything back inside. She jumped sideways, arms out, to block his efforts. “No. Please. I’ll do it. This is so embarrassing. When I see my brother…”


Words spilled out of her mouth at a rate Rufus’s brother would have called super-soundic. Even as a little kid, Stephen was always making up new words.


He gave a mental shake to return to the moment. What part of this situation made me think of Stevie?


Farce. Stephen had loved gross-out comedy. The more inane the better. Their parents had hoped he’d out-grow it. Unfortunately, he never got the chance.


He was stuck in memory lane when he heard her low, “Uh-oh.” Her inflection sounded pained.


Since she’d positioned herself to keep him from seeing the worst of the spill, he had to peer around her to discover what unspeakable horror had her momentarily frozen in place.


“Yowch,” he said, one hand dropping to his groin without conscious thought. “I’ll replace it.”


Rachel looked at the horrified expression on Rufus’s face and wasn’t sure whether to laugh or pray for the earth to open up and swallow her alive. It was a sixty-five dollar, nine-inch, all-too-realistic looking dildo that Rachel had unwrapped at her bridal shower to the jeers —“Trust me. It’s better than the real thing,” one woman had proclaimed—and cheers of other party goers. Her friends and co-workers had even named it for her. “Dexter.” After the HBO serial killer with a conscience.


At the moment, Dex was giving extreme pleasure to the dog with the big, squarish head. Fred, she believed. And Fred was chomping on the pliable “life-like” rubber with such gusto his master actually looked pained by the image.


She fought to contain the laugher that started bubbling up from that horrible well of inappropriate responses that her exhusband had hated so much, but she simply couldn’t it hold back. Within seconds she was doubled over, howling. Tears—the Chris-Rock-on-a-roll kind—obscured her vision and she actually had to 
grab Rufus’s arm for support until her ab-scrunching guffaws diminished.


“Oh, wow,” she said through her sniffles. “I needed that.”

Around here, we refer to that as the “Sex toys” scene. Who woulda thought, right?


Tell me what makes you giggle in a book or when you think the author is completely out of her mind...and your name will go into a drawing for one of my books. They don't all have sex toys, but I guarantee there will be humor.

Presently, I'm at work on my new book and, as usual, I walk a line between serious and silly, weighty issues and just plain fun.

By the way, UNTIL HE MET RACHEL was named Best Superromance of 2010 by
RomanticTimes BOOKreviews, and it's one of your choices...if you're into that sort of
thing. ;-)

Buy: Amazon, Barnes and Noble, eHarlequin  You can find all the books of her Sentinel Series listed on Debra's Website. Books are available in both print and ebook.

~*~*~*~

Debra Salonen wrote her first story in crayon on the underside of her mother's coffee table. Her mother was not amused. Subsequent writing efforts included a screenplay for Flipper--in block print on lined paper (you can see why it never got picked up, right?), a spy thriller --okay, a blatant rip-off of James Bond; an Irma Bombeck-esque series of letters to her family, which might have come across as a tad more whiny than amusing, and, eventually, she enjoyed a four-year stint as an award-winning feature writer for a newspaper.

In 2000, her first romance novel was published by Harlequin for its Superromance line. That novel, THAT COWBOY'S KIDS, has recently been re-released, bringing Deb's total number of published books to 30. Her May 2010 release, UNTIL HE MET RACHEL, was honored by RTBook Reviews as the Reviewer's Choice for "Best Superromance of 2010."

In addition to her two current Superromance titles, RETURN TO THE BLACK HILLS and A FATHER'S QUEST, Deb is enjoying a renewed flirtation with short stories. Her first Kindle release, "A Hundred Years or More," looks at that special bond between a pet and his owner, and what happens when a pet--in this case, a parrot--outlives his owner.

Monday Musings: Moments Good and Bad

The past few weeks have not been kind to me. My bridge bit the dust. Finding out that no, it can’t be repaired. Worse, I had a pivotal tooth break. Ugh. Even worse, the procedure to fix everything couldn’t be done immediately. Which meant learning to perfect a Mona Lisa smile and not an easy task for someone who smiles with their whole face and shows lots of teeth. Gosh, all I needed was a long piece of straw, floppy hat, say, Yee-haw.


Let’s just say looking in the mirror has been depressing. I’ve never even seen myself without those teeth. No, I’m not about to put on lipstick, no, I don’t want to go out to dinner. Hell, I don’t want to go anywhere. So I’ve been hiding out and will continue to until next week when the surgeon does his thing—pulling this out screwing that in, twisting the other thing. At least I’ll be asleep while they do all that. But this isn’t a quick procedure. The whole thing will span six weeks. Oh, yay.


My guys have been trying to cheer me up, and doing a pretty good job of it. Until a few days ago when I mentioned that Sunday was Mother’s Day and I needed to get a card for my mom. My son gives me this blank look of, huh? My heart dropped to my feet. He hasn’t gotten me anything. I felt the tears well up. I am not a weepy woman. Did I mention I’ve been feeling sorry for myself?


Mother’s Day is a favorite holiday of mine; in part because there was a time I thought I would never get to be one. A mother, that is. Then surprise, a baby was on the way. When I looked into that little ET face, I felt so very blessed and the wait had been worth it. My first Mother’s Day was such a time of joy for me. So for me, it’s more important than any of the other holidays, except my anniversary.


My husband never fails to get me special things. But when I woke up, there wasn’t a card or anything. Very strange. He did have my coffee ready when I stumbled into the kitchen and after drinking a cup that heavenly brew; I took the dogs for a long walk and came back to breakfast and a rose. Awww.

When I came back from my shower, there on the table was a beautiful silk arrangement of peonies, roses, and a few other flowers (I prefer silk to real), cards, and gifts. Hugs, from both my son and hubs. Plus, they had found the clock I’ve been lusting after and every time I tried to order it, it had been out of stock.


My son told me when he hugged me how hard I made it when I looked so sad to think he had forgotten Mother’s Day. “Sheesh, mom, I almost pulled out your card early just to make you smile. I would never forget Mother’s Day.”

My husband told me Son had spent a lot of time finding just the right card for me. He tried to help but Son said, “No Dad, it’s not the right one. I’ll know it when I see it.” It was a special one about the strong bond between a mother and a son. It went into my special chest with his first shoes, the outfit I brought him home from the hospital in, and other treasures I cherish and added over the years.

• There are certain holidays and family traditions that are special. What are some of yours?

Write Scenes Rather Than Reports

Scenes.


They're the anchors for your characters,

allowing them to experience adventures undreamed of. Scenes are the visual elements that, strung together, make navigating your story entertaining and logical.

Scenes are the pulse of your novel. With each successive beat, characters discover more, reveal more, and live more. And readers feel that life. The pulse, the heartbeat of your story, resonates in them, and if the beat is strong enough, it will keep them connected, not wanting to leave. Not wanting to cut off that heartbeat that has become part of them.

We all know what it’s like to be interrupted when we’re at the good part. Make your story pulse with the good part from beginning to end. Give the reader not only a vivid character, but vivid scenes that will echo in his mind and heart. Scenes that will keep him attached to your tale.

Scenes. Not descriptions. Not a reporting of events. Scenes.

Write them. From page one, write them.

They’re what’s vibrant about your story.

They are events happening in a specific place.

Don’t tell us Max did this and Sally did that and Mortimer did a little of both. Don’t give us diary entries or a school report. Don’t even give us a letter to a pen pal. Putyour characters into a specific time, a specific locale, and give them a task.

And once you write your scene, don’t fill pages with delay, describing the route to an event and then the décor once we get there.

Get to the point.

Dump us into action. Event. Happening.

Paint us a picture of someone doing something somewhere.

Think of a series of events, as in a movie. Write those events. Connect them with narrative. And then write more events.

Yes, thinking can be an event. So can dialogue. But events also include someone robbing a house, a teen learning to drive, a woman kissing a man.

Give your readers events and action they can dive into. Give them places they can see, objects they can touch, sounds to hear and wonder over. Write for the senses and the emotions and the mind. And put your characters in a location.

Don’t forget that people move and touch and see while they’re interacting.

If you’re going to use a scene with a lot of thought and/or dialogue—either one person thinking without interaction with another or multiple characters speaking back and forth—make sure the reader knows the where and when of the scene. Don’t write disembodied thoughts for two pages. Put us in a place, show us why the character is having these thoughts, and then go at those thoughts.

Think place. Passage of time. Events happening while the character ruminates or reminisces or cogitates.

Don’t give us only talking heads, existing independently of all else. (When Elsie was young, she always brushed her teeth five times a day. Not six. Not four. She . . . ) If you choose to throw in back story, first show us where the character is and what brought about these deep thoughts of the past. Does the character walk around randomly thinking of the past? Or is there something in the story—related to plot, of course—that drives those reminiscences? Unless your character is naturally crazy, go for something that sets him off. And don’t forget to let us know what’s happening while the character is off remembering. Ground the character—and the reader—in a place and then do your thing with deep thoughts.

Use description in scenes, but don’t only describe. Have your characters interact with their locale, other characters, and their own demons.

Don’t try to narrate scenes—she did this and that and then she cried. Make the story events real. Make the reader live those events, feel those emotions, quiver with pain and gasp with shock.

Scenes are only one element of good fiction; we still need exposition. Stories made up of all scenes without a break would be tiresome and tedious. They’d be flat-out annoying.

Exposition can do in a few words what can take pages for a scene to accomplish.

My point is, however, when you do write scenes—and they should take up most of the page space in a novel—make sure you are actually writing scenes rather than reports.

I read many first manuscripts that have no scenes, especially at the story’s beginning. Think of ways to invite your reader into the story events. Show the reader those events as they unfold.

Don’t recite the events—bring the reader in to experience them for herself.

Some examples: (excerpts)

• What I did on vacation—A school report
• What I did on vacation—Fiction (exposition and scene)
• What I did on vacation—Fiction (exposition and scene, a variation)
• What Tessa did on vacation—Fiction (less exposition, more scene)

~Beth  Hill

The Editor's Blog

A Novel Edit


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FANTASIZING RELAXATION

FYI:  I will be having oral surgery on Thursday and should be be feeling human in a few days so bare with me.

I like to welcome back romance author, Tawny Weber. I love having guests who return with new books. I’ll be the first to tell you that Tawny is an auto buy for me. Why? Because I always feel good after reading them. She makes me laugh and I love the way her characters interact. Her heroines are accomplished women with sassy attitudes and determination to succeed.   

While her characters’ romantic romps make me laugh, they do face some real conflicts which impacts on their relationship. I love the smooth flow of her scenes, and she does flirting and hot sizzle so well.

I know how incredibly busy authors are with promotion, editing, and trying to write the next book—there isn’t a lot of down time. I was teasing Tawny about what she would do with herself if she had nothing on her schedule except a free weekend…

Ooooh, Sia’s for Over Coffee. One of my favorite places!! I’ll have tea, please, along with a cranberry scone with lemon curd and lots and lots of cream. There’s nothing better to start the morning off than yummy treats, a shot of caffeine and great company!

Sia mentioned in passing the question: what would I do with an entire weekend of pure relaxation, with nothing else on my plate? Well, at first I sat staring off in space for a little bit, baffled as my brain tried to wrap itself around that concept. Then I had this giddy thought! I’d sleep. Lots and lots and lots of sleep. Oh, the glory of sleep. Because, well, I don’t tend to get a lot of it.

But then I realized that would be a horrible waste of a wonderful weekend. And that’s when I fell into full-blown fantasy mode...

The weekend would start with a good night’s sleep (any good fantasy weaves in just enough reality to make it believable, right?). I’d wake up on an island, with the windows thrown open and overlooking the white sands of the sun-drenched beach. On a table outside the sliding doors I’d expect a light, healthy breakfast of fruit and breads, tea and juices. I figure a healthy breakfast gets me geared up for a weekend of relaxation more than a decadent one, right?

I’d spend the weekend on the beach, sometimes under the warmth of the sun, sometimes under a big foofy umbrella that matches the tiny one stuck in my equally foofy alcoholic beverage. I’d read, I’d watch the people I love play in the water or dig a moat in the sand, I’d spend a few tiny moments bemoaning the fact that there is no cell or internet on the island so I can’t check on life outside (because, seriously, the only thing that would make me do no work at all is a complete withdrawal).

That evening, I’d dress up in a slinky sexy little number and a pair of gorgeous heels and go out to a romantic, candlelit dinner with my husband, followed by a moonlit walk on the beach. And the next day, I’d do it all over again.


You know what? Taking the 10 minutes to fantasize about this did more to relax me than the last massage I had! What a wonderful idea.

We should all take a little fantasy relaxation weekend...

Where would you go? And what would you do? And what’s the one thing that would be absolutely necessary to make sure you really, really relaxed?

 

JUST FOR THE NIGHT  Available May, 2011

Things to Do in Blackout…

Power outages happen, and you have to be prepared. After all, you could be trapped somewhere—like in an empty store—with your ex.

Who is still irresistible. And hot.

And who knows how to make the most out of a dark situation…

Checklist for: Larissa Zahn


· Food


· Water


· First aid kit (With condoms. Be prepared. Very, very prepared.)


· Someone you’re still overwhelmingly into (Jason Cantrell, I’m looking at you.)


· Plenty of time in the dark (Read: hot nookie. Lots of it.)


The ability to walk away without regrets in the morning…. (Uh oh!)


24 Hours: Blackout


No lights. No power. And no holding back…excerpt

Buy: Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Books a Million, Borders, e-Harlequin

~*~*~*~

Tawny Weber is usually found dreaming up stories in her California home, surrounded by dogs, cats and kids. When she’s not writing hot, spicy stories for Harlequin Blaze, she’s shopping for the perfect pair of boots or drooling over Johnny Depp pictures (when her husband isn’t looking, of course). In

Come by and visit her on the websitr at: http://www.tawnyweber.com/ or her
Blog
 
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Those Special Moments

I’m pleased to have suspense fiction author, Steve O’Brien, as my guest today. He’s written several books, including the award winning Elijah’s Coin.

I’ve been around Thoroughbreds growing up and have had family who has worked with racehorses. My brothers will tell you these are phenomenal horses, intelligent and full of heart and fire, and highly competitive. They want to win. I love animals in general and horses in particular. I have three. When I saw this book, I knew I had to read it. A hint, don’t start reading this just before bedtime unless you don’t care about sleep. :-)  It touches the emotions and I have to tell you, I wanted to hurt these villains, oh so bad.

I finally was able to hunt Steve down, lol! I invited him to visit Over Coffee. I love his topic and with a teen myself, I had to laugh as I read his article. I hope you will enjoy it as much as I did.  

Special moments accompany the lives of authors. Undoubtedly, the first is holding the finished product in your hands. Heck, it could even be an ARC copy, but there is a distinct feeling of satisfaction and completion at that moment.

Another special moment is receiving that first review. Somebody read it, liked it, and wanted to tell others about it.

Other special moments could be receiving a literary award, seeing the book on Amazon and BN.com or doing book signings.

I experienced a few other unique author moments, with unexpected twists however.

Recently, I was browsing through a nearby Barnes and Noble store. My wife tells me I spend way too much time in bookstores. I can’t help it. I’m a serial browser. As I cruised past the “new fiction” section, an image caught my eye.

My book!!!!   In the new fiction section!!!

A rush of emotion overtook me. I wanted to scream out “hey, everybody! My book is here in the new fiction section!”

With great restraint I was able to avoid making a scene. But I felt compelled to pull out my i-phone and snap a picture of my book and its placement. (I did have to ask a customer to move slightly to the left, so I could get the pic. She, of course, figured I had recently escaped from an asylum for the criminally insane, and quickly moved over a section or two).

Months and months of work, edits and re-edits, nights pounding on the keyboard, my book was finally getting equal billing with mega authors like James Patterson and Jodi Picoult. I was breathless. (Okay, they will still outsell me a billion to one, but there I was).

I did not have to walk from the store, as my feet were nowhere near touching the ground.

When I got home, I was nearly bursting with excitement. I was just waiting to pounce on that stock question “anything interesting happen today?” But I couldn’t wait. I whipped out my I-phone and showed my wife. As she was viewing it our sixteen year old daughter walked into the kitchen. I handed her my phone and casually said, “do you recognize anything in this photo?”

She grabbed the phone with both hands and in an instant was awe struck. “Oh, my gosh.” I could feel my chest puffing out slightly and a smile crept across my face. “Oh, my gosh,” she gasped. So cool that she will be able to tell all her friends, I thought.

She looked at me and exclaimed, “Snooki’s book is out!”

Snooki’s book is out?

In a nanosecond, my zeppelin sized ego, came crashing down in flames. I had to point and say “No, honey, don’t you see? Two rows above (gulp) Snooki’s book, is my book?”

“Oh, yeah. Cool.” She handed back my phone and walked out of the kitchen.

Okay, maybe I deserved that. My raging sense of significance needed to be checked. No one can dampen that self absorbed emotion faster than one’s own teenager.

At least I could take comfort that she didn’t reply “whatever.”

Now, to be fair to my daughter, she has been a huge advocate of my writing. (I guess the Snooki book sighting was just too much for her to pass up). My all time favorite text message was not even sent to me. It was sent to my daughter.

Last summer we were relaxing at home and her phone buzzed. It was a text from one of her classmates.

The message read. “Dude, your dad’s book is number three on I-Books.”

Greater words were never written. (Truth be told, the book was number three in the Children and Teens category, but hey number three is still number three).

Never in my wildest dreams did I expect my favorite text message to start with the word “dude.” But it does.

So, for today’s Over Coffee blog, tell me about your special moment, either as a writer or in any occupation. Then tell me about a time your ego was cut down to size. It’s okay, we’re all friends.


-#-#-

Bullet Work Cover Blurb

When facing our darkest fear, one question remains.

Are we willing to bet everything?

Behind the glamorous exterior of horseracing lies the gritty reality of the backside. Within this fiercely competitive world of owners, trainers, vets, and jockeys something has gone terribly wrong. As opening day approaches, one racehorse is poisoned, another has her leg crushed by a lead pipe and a third mysteriously disappears. Shock and horror grip the racing community.

Then it all makes sense. Greed.

The extortion demands are revealed. Stables are forced to pay protection money to ensure the safety of their horses. Despite all security efforts, the brutal killings continue. For Dan Morgan it becomes personal when his precocious two-year-old filly is targeted. Dan befriends AJ Kaine, a lonely, “horse whispering” young man. AJ is a hotwalker, the lowest of jobs in the backside food chain. But AJ has a secret–perhaps a secret that can corner a killer. With AJ’s help, Dan must crack the extortion scheme or risk becoming the next victim. Excerpt

Buy: Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Books A Million, Indiebound

--#--#--#--

Steve O’Brien is a lawyer and fiction writer. His first novel, Elijah’s Coin was the recipient of nine literary awards including the Next Generation Indie Book Award for Best Novella and Best Young Adult Fiction by the National Best Book Awards. His second novel, Bullet Work was released March 22, 2011. O’Brien lives in Washington, D.C., with his wife and two children.


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Loving The Drama!

My guest is contemporary fiction author, Lisa Dale. She says about herself, "My fiancé and I are getting married this July 2 in New Jersey. Between the new books and the wedding, I’m insanely busy. And that’s just how I like it! Writing is a great excuse for me to follow my fascinations, so you’ll find lots of interesting little factoids scattered through my work. What I want... is to tell romantic stories that challenge, inspire, astonish, and enchant." 

Lisa's one of those New Jersey larger than life residents--in her books--but in life?

If you were to make a reality TV show out of this writer’s life, here’s what you’d see. 

• Scene of me sitting in my pajamas, bleary-eyed but intensely writing.
• Scene of me getting up for a glass of water.
• Scene of me getting up to hug my fiancé when he comes home.
• Scene of me knitting, talking with friends. 

Yep—exciting stuff! TV producers like to do shows about us New Jersey folks because they think we’re larger than life, over the top, good entertainment.

But in the opinion of this Jersey girl, drama is meant for novels. Not real life!

The other day, a reporter asked me if the characters in my new book, Slow Dancing on Price’s Pier, were based on real people or real-life situations. I told her: Thank God, no!

You see, even though I don’t believe that we’re put on this earth to make trouble for each other, I LOVE a book that puts it all on the line. I love when characters risk everything important to them for love. My characters have to work for their happy endings.

By the time a reader gets to the end of one of my books, I want her to be breathless with anticipation of an HEA—absolutely invested in the action. And for me, half-measures don’t cut it. I push my characters to their limits before they find a way to transcend their own tragic flaws, overcome deadlocked and impossible problems, and find their happily ever afters.

So you would think, in my real life, that I’m the kind of person who likes a little drama. That my characters, as the reporter implied, are born of real life events.

But in fact, I’m a very quiet person. I have a few close friends whom I love dearly. I have a wonderful family, a fiancé who warms my heart. I like knitting, reading, and evenings filled with laughter and intimate conversation. When the occasional bit of real-life drama happens, I try to let it roll off my back. Real life is precious, and I think we’re put here on earth to be peacemakers for each other.

But in my stories…look out! All bets are off. Drama reigns! As a writer, if you’re gonna do drama—you’ve got to make it as intense as can be, because that’s what makes for a big, emotional payoff in the end. It’s go big or go home!

In my new novel, Slow Dancing on Price’s Pier, the heroine is the owner of a Newport, RI, coffee shop (coffee is absolutely fascinating! And each chapter behind with a little interesting history about the seed/bean that is so easy to take for granted!).

There are actually two loves stories in one—two stories that run parallel with each other. The first story is about when the characters fell in love with each other for the first time in high school—a head-over-heels, wild kind of love.

But then, weaving in and out of that story, there’s the story of the present. The characters are no longer in love (something really bad happened between them, I won’t say what). In fact, the hero outright hates the heroine when the book opens.

But as echoes of that first love begin to resurface, his feelings change. Their loves story as adults parallels, contradicts, and overlaps with their love story from when they were teenagers. I wanted to explore the similarities and differences between adult love and young love—and I also wanted to give readers a LOT of bang for their buck. You don’t just get one love story here. You get two.

So far—it’s paid off. Slow Dancing is a TOP PICK for both Barnes & Noble and BookPage magazine. Can I even begin to tell you how cool it is to see my book on a page with some of the bestsellers that I’ve been admiring for years? Kinda surreal.

As for my own real-life romance, I’m getting married in July (the Saturday after RWA national!). My sweetheart and I have been together for a long time now. It’s been a lot of fun planning the wedding! We’ve got most of the big things done.

And luckily, my real-life wedding planning has been mostly drama-free.

• Question: When real-life drama starts to get to you, what do you do? Take a long bath? Grab some chocolate? Or read a book?
• Does this work? 

~*~*~

 Slow Dancing on Price’s Pier 

Thea Celik has devoted herself to running her Newport coffee shop, to parenting her daughter, and to being a meaningful part of her in-law’s loving family. Her life is mild but satisfying—she’s sure of her place in the community and in her family. But when her childhood friend and husband Jonathan uncharacteristically cheats on her, her certainty about her role in the world is shaken.

Now as Thea strives to rediscover herself and remain close with the only family she knows, Jonathan’s brother Garret vows to exile her from their lives once and for all. Garret has never forgotten his history with Thea, and he hopes Jonathan’s divorce from her will mean he can reconnect with his brother at last. But his increasingly frequent encounters with Thea—and his unresolved feelings for her—threaten his relationship with his family now more than ever before.

SLOW DANCING ON PRICE’S PIER is the story of one woman’s determination to rediscover a new life while trying to maintain the old. When the bonds of friendship, family, and love are tested, how long will they hold? Excerpt

Buy: Amazon, Barnes and Noble, IndieBound

A lifelong bookworm, Lisa Dale is a firm believer that there are few things in life better than curling up with a novel and a cup of tea. Lisa Dale grew up in rural Northwestern New Jersey before attending McDaniel College in Westminster, Maryland. She worked briefly in publishing before going back to school to get an MFA in fiction at Fairleigh Dickinson University. A nominee for Best New American Voices and the Pushcart Prize, her writing appears in many literary magazines, such as The Writer, Fourth Genre, Flyway, Fugue, Sou’wester, The Southeast Review, The MacGuffin, Many Mountains Moving, and more.


Lisa's: Website, Blog


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