In case you missed the cover in my sidebar, here is the mock up, designed by my dear friend and uber-talented cover artist Arial Burnz!
Monday, July 23, 2012
FINALIST! GOLDEN ACORN CONTEST!
I'm bouncing beyond the stratosphere to announce that Rowena's Key, the first book in my Golden Key Series (not to mention my first attempt at writing all things paranormal/fantasy) has finaled in the Charter Oak Romance Writer's Golden Acorn Contest! What a great way to start the week!
In case you missed the cover in my sidebar, here is the mock up, designed by my dear friend and uber-talented cover artist Arial Burnz!
Stay tuned for more updates! I believe contest placement is determined by September 1st! Whoot!
In case you missed the cover in my sidebar, here is the mock up, designed by my dear friend and uber-talented cover artist Arial Burnz!
Friday, July 13, 2012
Vonnie's Thirteen Reasons to LOVE Friday the 13th!
Thanks for having me here today, AJ. You
said I could choose any date to come to Tattered Pages and laughed when I chose
Friday the thirteenth. (Admittedly, I did. However, anyone who knows Vonnie, understands why I laughed. XO)
You see, the number 13 has been unlucky for centuries. Experts aren’t entirely sure why, either. The ancient Babylon’s Code of Hannurabi omits the number 13 on its list of laws, so the superstition dates back to at least 1700 BC. Even today, most tall buildings don’t have a 13th floor.
The number’s association with Friday, however, didn’t take hold until the 20th century. In 1907, eccentric Boston stockbroker Thomas Lawson published a book called Friday the Thirteenth, which told of an evil businessman’s attempt to crash the stock market on the unluckiest day of the month. Thanks to an extensive ad campaign, the book sold well—nearly 28,000 copies within the first week. Thus, began the whole Friday 13th phenomenon.
So, I ask you, if a male author could start this whole Friday, the thirteenth nonsense, can’t a female author undo it? Let’s think about this for a few moments, shall we? I think you’ll agree that I present my case quite well.
13 Reasons why Friday the 13th
is NOT Unlucky
(Forgive the double negative)
ONE: If you’re able to read this post, even with the aid of glasses, how can today be unlucky?
TWO:
If you have the physical agility to make…sigh…ah…to make your bed this
morning, again I ask, how can today be unlucky?
THREE:
If your refrigerator is bare, and you need to go out for a six-pack, how
can that be unlucky?
FOUR:
And if you’ve got a vehicle to drive to the store to get that six-pack,
aren’t you also lucky?
FIVE:
If you have pets around you to brighten your life today, how can that be
unlucky?
SIX:
If angels hover among us—and I believe they do—then how can today be
unlucky?
SEVEN:
If you had clean tighty-whities to put on this morning…Oh. My. God…ahem,
all that meat and no potatoes…sigh…how can today be unlucky?
EIGHT: If today’s hot enough for a dip
in the pool, how can it be unlucky? Aren’t we blessed by water?
NINE: Or for that matter, if it’s so hot
you want to take off your shirt, being lucky is having a shirt to take off. Right?
TEN:
If you have a hat to keep the sun from your eyes, then what grand luck
you’ve got.
ELEVEN:
If you’ve got plenty of heels in your closet, how can that be unlucky?
Don’t we love shoes? I know I do.
TWELVE: If we find a grey hair today, isn’t that also
a lucky find? I mean, ah….
THIRTEEN: And if your pants are so tight, you have no
room for your cell phone or keys, can we label that as unlucky? I don’t think
so. Although I DO think I see my tube of maxi-thick-mascara…
Ladies, do you get my drift? What we
make of any given situation creates the luck, not the situation itself or the
date. We all have the ability to react either positively or negatively to
whatever’s thrown at us. Perhaps not initially, when our nerves are raw with
pain, but eventually.
Take my hero Win Fairchild in Those Violet Eyes. One could call him unlucky. He’s certainly been through hell and back. In Iraq he lost three of his buddies, part of his leg and some of his hearing. But Win’s determined to make his own luck. He’s determined to somehow make the world a better place, even though his mental world is a mass of mangled war debris.
Take my hero Win Fairchild in Those Violet Eyes. One could call him unlucky. He’s certainly been through hell and back. In Iraq he lost three of his buddies, part of his leg and some of his hearing. But Win’s determined to make his own luck. He’s determined to somehow make the world a better place, even though his mental world is a mass of mangled war debris.
Here’s an excerpt of the second time Win
and Evie come face to face. Evie, a waitress at the Lonesome Steer honky tonk,
goes back to the kitchen to introduce herself to the new cook.
Evie charged
through the swinging door to the kitchen and skidded to a stop. It couldn’t be.
Although his back was toward her, there was no mistaking the height and broad
muscled shoulders. This mystery nephew of Gus’s was the guy who’d remarked on
her eyes. Her stomach did a little twitchy dance, nerves no doubt.
She ran her suddenly damp palms over her short skirt and cleared her throat. “Excuse me. Win?”
AMAZON -- http://bit.ly/TVEVonnieDavis
Evie charged
through the swinging door to the kitchen and skidded to a stop. It couldn’t be.
Although his back was toward her, there was no mistaking the height and broad
muscled shoulders. This mystery nephew of Gus’s was the guy who’d remarked on
her eyes. Her stomach did a little twitchy dance, nerves no doubt. She ran her suddenly damp palms over her short skirt and cleared her throat. “Excuse me. Win?”
No answer.
She took a
couple steps closer and noticed he was washing vegetables under a spray of
water. “Win?”
No reply.
Evie rolled her
eyes and stepped behind him, tapping him on the back. The metal strainer
clattered in the sink and a blur of motion barely registered before steely
hands gripped her forearms. Oh my God!
In a flurry of movement, he snatched her off the floor and backed her against
the stainless steel counter. Cold wet hands viced her arms. Her eyes snapped
wide and the air whooshed from her lungs when his body slammed into hers.
Win’s eyes were
narrowed, his breathing rapid through a clenched jaw and a vein bulged in his
forehead. “Don’t do that.”
The man was
every inch the warrior, every hard tensed inch. He held her mid-air, so close
they were nearly eyeball to eyeball. As his gaze traveled over her face and
awareness evidently crept in as to the sex of his attacker, several inches of
his frame hardened even more.
Evie swallowed. Oh, good Lord.
He glared and
his nostrils flared.
“I…I’m sorry,
Win. I called your name, but…but you didn’t answer. I was only trying to get
your attention.” Her lips twitched at the humor in the situation—hadn’t Keira
told her the man lost part of his hearing? Evidently she’d startled him. Poor
soul. She felt a portion of herself return. A portion she’d hidden for so long;
that light-hearted part of her soul that teased and cajoled. “Honest, I wasn’t
trying to attack you.” She placed an open palm on his defined pecs and patted.
“You’re safe with me, big guy.” Just to rattle him some more, she winked.
Win’s hazel eyes
flashed for a second, then he slowly leaned in and whispered in her ear,
“You’re not safe with me.”
A shiver
galloped pell-mell through her. He smelled of pine soap and musk. His short,
spiky, straw-colored hair tickled her neck when he lowered his head a fraction.
Warm lips barely grazed her skin, igniting a sensual fire in her system. Her
eyebrows furrowed in question. Had he just kissed her below the ear? It was so
brief, so feather light her mind wasn’t sure. Her nipples, though, piped up in
confirmation. Hell yeah, he kissed you! Me next, me next!
BUY LINKS:
THE WILD ROSE PRESS -- http://bit.ly/ThoseVioletEyesAMAZON -- http://bit.ly/TVEVonnieDavis
Thank you so much, Vonnie, for being my guest today! I can't remember the last time I had such a great time on Friday the 13th!
XO AJ XO
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