I've been pimped all over the place today. Had a list of sites, but the computer ate them. Drat! I do still have this one from Pet's Gazette which is pimping the anthology I lead- Cup of Comfort for Dog Lovers- releases August http://www.okpetgazette.com/
Don't forget to enter my contests for The Marian Kind and Something Blue!
And if you're not going to the Romance Diva virtual conference, why not? Rhonda did a great trim the fat seminar that saw me murder a dozen thats. The Larsen Pomada agency had an interesting talk where I found out she's looking for an MS just like the one I'm currently writing. Fancy that! Plus there's the bar and awesome door prizes. So move your bootie on over there!
Babe (who really needs more than 3 hours sleep... yawn.)
Showing posts with label "The Marian Kind". Show all posts
Showing posts with label "The Marian Kind". Show all posts
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
The Marian Kind Now On Sale!
And the first review is out, too! Cocktail Reviews gave The Marian Kind 5 champagne flutes!!!
Author: Babe King
Publisher: Freya’s Bower
REVIEW BY BLACK RUSSIAN
What a nutso read! Marian, the daughter of a funeral director, makes the dead pretty. If anyone knows how to use make-up, she does! While having a conversation with her boyfriend, Rob, she gets the idea in her head that he wants to break up with her, that he is hiding something. It doesn’t help that Rob has been spending time with a woman named Jennifer Perrin. Marian’s thoughts run wild. However, she soon finds out that he has been hiding a little more than she bargained for…
Set yourself up for a fun ride! Marian aids Rob in unravelling a mystery, one that takes them to the office of the local Sheriff. Here, they meet an annoying dog and Granny, a.k.a Celia Tuck. Dog and Granny join Marian and Rob on their quest to solve a crime, with hilarious results. A fake boob implant brings hilarity to the tale, along with excellent one-liners that made me laugh out loud.
A breath of fresh air, The Marian Kind is a must read for all romantic comedy readers.
Favourite lines:
He took a scone and stared like it was Snow White’s apple. Personally, I never saw Snow White’s problem. I mean, the girl escaped a ton of housework for those messy dwarves, had a lovely long nap surrounded by flowers, then got woken by a handsome prince and lived happily ever after in a palace. Hello? I should be so lucky.
Either the fairies in her top paddock were contagious or the music was for real.—top paddock! Hilarious!
None so shabby, eh?
Sunday, July 08, 2007
This Could Be Yours!
Raspberry Creme Heaven Chocolate, Marshmallow Parfait Bath Beads, Gel and scrubber, and 2 bilby chocolates for your pillow. Mmmm. That really is my idea of heaven!
How to make it yours ...
On July 10th, Freya's Bower release my romantic comedy suspense, "The Marian Kind." For the paltry sum of $3.25, I promise you a fun, wild ride.
Check it out!
http://www.freyasbower.com/content/view/217/76/
So buy the book, email me Granny Tuck's name for Dogzilla at
mixalns@yahoo.com
and you'll go in the running to win this great prize. I'll draw the lucky reader on my birthday, August 6th. Entries are automatically added to my reader's list, and I'll also be drawing one lucky reader from that list to win their choice of either a stuffed bilby, or an Australia bag.
So lots of prizes! Get reading! Get entering! And good luck!
Romance and mayhem have never been more fun!
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
Thursday Thirteen
Since Marian,the heroine of "The Marian Kind" (which releases June 21, you know, in case I haven't chewed your ear off yet)is the make-up artist in a funeral home, I thought I'd stick with the theme. So this week it's
To many, the morgue is a place shrouded in secrecy and exceedingly grave, yet......
1. So many are dying to get in there.
2. It's a great place to have a formalin.
3. You can always get a table.
4. And they have their own tag team.
5. But their sleeping bags leave something to be desired.
6. In the morgue, blue is the new black.
7. And YOU can be the life of the party.
8. It's the place God leaves his empties.
9. So definitely BYO spirits.
10. But even without a TV, people there know what happens when you Cross Jordon
11. And most think they're hairdressers, since they've already curled up and dyed
12. But it's not the place to let anyone slip you some skin or lend you a hand
13. However, it is a great place to chill.
Monday, June 18, 2007
How did you spend your day?
I'm such a techy midget that this postcard took me 6 hours. Yes, 6! Mostly while things refused to download or went into the ether. And you know what? Vistaprint still won't load it. Yes, I am well and truly ready to start putting my last TT to use. Watch out!
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
Of Corpse I'm Playing....
In "The Marian Kind, my release with Freya's Bower this month, my hero has a problem -- a dead body in his bathtub that threatens to expose his illegal, philanthropic activities. What would YOU do? This week I decided to brainstorm his problem.
You could:
1. Bury them in a shallow grave with a sprinkling of lime. Warning: Do not substitute lemon.
2. Use them as the non-moving extra in a zombie movie. Be aware there are many living actors also suited to this part.
3. Use as a fail-safe date for really ugly friends.
4. Dress them as a hobo and sit them on a cross-town tram. Warning: other disguises may not work since you must also account for the odor.
5. Use as a scarecrow since they're already stuffed.
6. Hang beside your front door with a rolled-up "Watchtower" in their hands as a dogma deterrent.
7. Use them as the before shot in skin commercials.
8. Send to Egypt to desiccate. Everyone knows that sun-dried anything is healthy.
9. Do NOT bury them in a peat bog.
10. Wrap in bandages and take to the orphanage, because every kid needs a mummy.
11. If you had enough of them, you could form a more effective Congress.
12. Donate them to the local art class so they can do life drawing and still life at the same time.
13. Leave them in the sun until they go off with a bang and scare the kids.
Rob did not use any of these methods. Wanna know what he DID do?
Buy the book! "The Marian Kind" Available June 21 at Freya's Bower as part of their Summer Lovin' collection. Yes, this is a shameless plug! :-)
Saturday, June 09, 2007
The Marian Kind- Want an Excerpt?
Squeee! I'm busy promoting "The Marian Kind" which releases this month at Freya's Bower as part of their Summer Lovin' Collection. I've included an excerpt for those of you not familiar with my writing, and for those who are. ;-)
As the cover suggests, "The Marian Kind" is about hackers, but mostly it's about a girl and the modern-day Robin Hood she loves. With Summer heating up, Marian thinks it’s the perfect time to push her five-year relationship up a notch. But the body she gets close and personal with isn’t her lover’s. Or alive. Boyfriend Rob has some explaining to do, and a diamond ring full of promises to make if he wants to keep his girl.
Enjoy!
“Do you want to break up?” I peeled sweat-slicked thighs from the vinyl seat of Rob’s lovingly pimped, Ford pickup and wriggled the rolled wedge of linen shorts out of my butt crack. Fear buzzed over my skin and my stomach lining camouflaged itself as Swiss cheese while I waited for his answer.
A sensuous rumble came from his throat, more like a bedroom noise than an argument. Was that a yes or a no? He stopped for a red light and swung his what-made-you-think-that look my way — kind of disgusted and surprised all in one.
Okay, maybe I was nutso risking our good thing by pushing to know if a better thing was just around the corner. But as the daughter of a funeral director I have a peculiar set of insecurities. I mean, funerals are hardly the talk for parties, right? They don’t call social pariahs dead boring for nothing. Maybe Rob fantasized about dating someone who didn’t paint dead people’s faces for a living.
Thick, stubby eyelashes blinked at me before Rob turned his attention back to the road. I licked a flavor-burst of strawberry gloss off my bottom lip. Any woman would want him. He is easily the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen — a rich collection of knotted-muscle browns, like trays of buns in a baker’s oven. Chocolate-drenched eyes, caramel hair sprinkled with cinnamon highlights, honey-kissed skin, and a mouth with all the quirk and appeal of marzipan figs. Maybe I should have said he’s a smorgasbord of brown because he’s definitely edible.
“Do you?” I pushed. I wanted to scream out my wound-down window into the cloying blanket of Florida’s orange and salt-drenched air, “Just say no!”
Instead, he patted my thigh with one broad-palmed hand that felt vaguely condescending in a hot and tingly way. “Ba--be. I love you,” he gently scolded.
He snatched his hand away to switch lanes, cutting off an orange minivan that blasted us with its tinny horn.
Nice evasion of the question. Gack! I didn’t want to be needy, but Rob has been my boyfriend for five years and my heartthrob for a lot longer. Any other guy would have slipped a diamond on my left hand by now, but we’re still stuck at the prep school stage of dating, only with canoodling privileges. It makes me antsy, which could be why I’d dropped that ultimatum this morning when he tried to welch out of our date.
Plus there’s the other woman, bane of my life, Jennifer Perrin — the curvy blonde who scattered when I caught her whispering in Rob’s ear last Christmas. A girl who lives right next door to him, sunbathes in her backyard wearing a skimpy string bikini, and is reputed to be the kindest chick in our neighborhood. Yeah, right! Well, I’m not kind at all, not when it comes to sneaky secrets and sharing the man I adore.
“So what was this something that came up this morning?” I asked, trying to chew the tremble out of my bottom lip.
Guilt flickered in the depths of his eyes and rats gnawed bigger holes in my Swiss cheese stomach. He hissed air through his teeth in what sounded like a cross between a whistle and a steam engine stopping.
“Rob, you’re freaking me out.”
“Making women nervous is a perk of being male,” he grumbled.
And no one could deny Rob was all male. Damn.
I yanked at the hem of my Barbie-pink tee and twisted the soft fabric into a knot. My throat dried up like Death Valley and I reached for the gym bag he kept on the floor of the pickup. Rob always carries water. You never know when a drive-by bench pressing will leave you thirsty.
I unzipped the tote and dipped in my hand. Something squishy wrapped around my fingers. I screeched and flicked the undulating gooey thing across the car. It barely missed Rob’s nose, then splatted on the driver’s side windshield where it stuck and quivered.
Rob swore and swerved several times before he got the car back under control. He said something about poop and fans that didn’t sound promising.
I screeched again as the alien gloop slid across the glass to hang in front of me. Then I narrowed my eyes. I focused on the little bag of silicon. My stand-on-chair-and-screech impulse gave way to fingernail-gouging rage.
“What’s this?” I asked, though, hey, someone with boobs my size knew very well about chicken cutlets. More than a handful is a waste, they say, so just call me frugal. I peeled the bra filler from the windscreen with a soft glub, and waved it under Rob’s nose. He groaned and did the flopped shoulders Women! thing.
“It’s not Jennifer’s,” he murmured before I even made the accusation. Guilty conscience or what?”
“Then whose is it? Since you don’t have any sisters, either you’ve been cheating or there’s a whole ‘nuther side of you I haven’t seen.” And given how many sides of him I’d seen that was extremely doubtful.
Possessive rage washed through me at the idea of some other girl nibbling icing off my cupcake. I threw the fake boob at the hot windscreen again. With a soft splat it stuck there, human breast slug under glass. In different circumstances, the toss and stick could be an amusing game.
“Whose?” I demanded.
His shoulders rolled again. “You don’t want to know.”
The hairs at my nape rose. “Correction – you don’t want to tell me. For all I know you’re having a little something something with a one-boobed woman and I’m the last to find out.” A shuddery sob made me stuff up the diatribe. Damn. I hate when my girly hormones sabotage me, and it wasn’t even that time of month.
He cocked a brow. “You’ve been watching Desperate Housewives again haven’t you, babe. Don’t you trust me?”
Nice try. “When I find the inside of some other girl’s underwear in your bag, no. And before you start about me getting neurotic, trust me on this, most girls find other women’s intimate apparel in their boyfriend’s bag a problem.” I pouted and crossed my arms.
He stroked a hand over his stubble-rough chin making a soft raspy noise. “It’s not what you think, but it is why I tried to cancel our date.”
I pouted some more like those luscious lipstick-duo commercials I’d always envied, and swung my gaze at him in a tell-me-or-else squint. His brown delights went all serious.
“You won’t like it,” he warned.
That made me lean closer. Now I had to know, and he had to know that I had to know. ‘Cause you can’t bring home a dozen Boston crème doughnuts and pretend you’re not gonna break your diet.
Buy the book! Save a starving artist! :-) Available from Freya's Bower mid/late June.
As the cover suggests, "The Marian Kind" is about hackers, but mostly it's about a girl and the modern-day Robin Hood she loves. With Summer heating up, Marian thinks it’s the perfect time to push her five-year relationship up a notch. But the body she gets close and personal with isn’t her lover’s. Or alive. Boyfriend Rob has some explaining to do, and a diamond ring full of promises to make if he wants to keep his girl.
Enjoy!
“Do you want to break up?” I peeled sweat-slicked thighs from the vinyl seat of Rob’s lovingly pimped, Ford pickup and wriggled the rolled wedge of linen shorts out of my butt crack. Fear buzzed over my skin and my stomach lining camouflaged itself as Swiss cheese while I waited for his answer.
A sensuous rumble came from his throat, more like a bedroom noise than an argument. Was that a yes or a no? He stopped for a red light and swung his what-made-you-think-that look my way — kind of disgusted and surprised all in one.
Okay, maybe I was nutso risking our good thing by pushing to know if a better thing was just around the corner. But as the daughter of a funeral director I have a peculiar set of insecurities. I mean, funerals are hardly the talk for parties, right? They don’t call social pariahs dead boring for nothing. Maybe Rob fantasized about dating someone who didn’t paint dead people’s faces for a living.
Thick, stubby eyelashes blinked at me before Rob turned his attention back to the road. I licked a flavor-burst of strawberry gloss off my bottom lip. Any woman would want him. He is easily the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen — a rich collection of knotted-muscle browns, like trays of buns in a baker’s oven. Chocolate-drenched eyes, caramel hair sprinkled with cinnamon highlights, honey-kissed skin, and a mouth with all the quirk and appeal of marzipan figs. Maybe I should have said he’s a smorgasbord of brown because he’s definitely edible.
“Do you?” I pushed. I wanted to scream out my wound-down window into the cloying blanket of Florida’s orange and salt-drenched air, “Just say no!”
Instead, he patted my thigh with one broad-palmed hand that felt vaguely condescending in a hot and tingly way. “Ba--be. I love you,” he gently scolded.
He snatched his hand away to switch lanes, cutting off an orange minivan that blasted us with its tinny horn.
Nice evasion of the question. Gack! I didn’t want to be needy, but Rob has been my boyfriend for five years and my heartthrob for a lot longer. Any other guy would have slipped a diamond on my left hand by now, but we’re still stuck at the prep school stage of dating, only with canoodling privileges. It makes me antsy, which could be why I’d dropped that ultimatum this morning when he tried to welch out of our date.
Plus there’s the other woman, bane of my life, Jennifer Perrin — the curvy blonde who scattered when I caught her whispering in Rob’s ear last Christmas. A girl who lives right next door to him, sunbathes in her backyard wearing a skimpy string bikini, and is reputed to be the kindest chick in our neighborhood. Yeah, right! Well, I’m not kind at all, not when it comes to sneaky secrets and sharing the man I adore.
“So what was this something that came up this morning?” I asked, trying to chew the tremble out of my bottom lip.
Guilt flickered in the depths of his eyes and rats gnawed bigger holes in my Swiss cheese stomach. He hissed air through his teeth in what sounded like a cross between a whistle and a steam engine stopping.
“Rob, you’re freaking me out.”
“Making women nervous is a perk of being male,” he grumbled.
And no one could deny Rob was all male. Damn.
I yanked at the hem of my Barbie-pink tee and twisted the soft fabric into a knot. My throat dried up like Death Valley and I reached for the gym bag he kept on the floor of the pickup. Rob always carries water. You never know when a drive-by bench pressing will leave you thirsty.
I unzipped the tote and dipped in my hand. Something squishy wrapped around my fingers. I screeched and flicked the undulating gooey thing across the car. It barely missed Rob’s nose, then splatted on the driver’s side windshield where it stuck and quivered.
Rob swore and swerved several times before he got the car back under control. He said something about poop and fans that didn’t sound promising.
I screeched again as the alien gloop slid across the glass to hang in front of me. Then I narrowed my eyes. I focused on the little bag of silicon. My stand-on-chair-and-screech impulse gave way to fingernail-gouging rage.
“What’s this?” I asked, though, hey, someone with boobs my size knew very well about chicken cutlets. More than a handful is a waste, they say, so just call me frugal. I peeled the bra filler from the windscreen with a soft glub, and waved it under Rob’s nose. He groaned and did the flopped shoulders Women! thing.
“It’s not Jennifer’s,” he murmured before I even made the accusation. Guilty conscience or what?”
“Then whose is it? Since you don’t have any sisters, either you’ve been cheating or there’s a whole ‘nuther side of you I haven’t seen.” And given how many sides of him I’d seen that was extremely doubtful.
Possessive rage washed through me at the idea of some other girl nibbling icing off my cupcake. I threw the fake boob at the hot windscreen again. With a soft splat it stuck there, human breast slug under glass. In different circumstances, the toss and stick could be an amusing game.
“Whose?” I demanded.
His shoulders rolled again. “You don’t want to know.”
The hairs at my nape rose. “Correction – you don’t want to tell me. For all I know you’re having a little something something with a one-boobed woman and I’m the last to find out.” A shuddery sob made me stuff up the diatribe. Damn. I hate when my girly hormones sabotage me, and it wasn’t even that time of month.
He cocked a brow. “You’ve been watching Desperate Housewives again haven’t you, babe. Don’t you trust me?”
Nice try. “When I find the inside of some other girl’s underwear in your bag, no. And before you start about me getting neurotic, trust me on this, most girls find other women’s intimate apparel in their boyfriend’s bag a problem.” I pouted and crossed my arms.
He stroked a hand over his stubble-rough chin making a soft raspy noise. “It’s not what you think, but it is why I tried to cancel our date.”
I pouted some more like those luscious lipstick-duo commercials I’d always envied, and swung my gaze at him in a tell-me-or-else squint. His brown delights went all serious.
“You won’t like it,” he warned.
That made me lean closer. Now I had to know, and he had to know that I had to know. ‘Cause you can’t bring home a dozen Boston crème doughnuts and pretend you’re not gonna break your diet.
Buy the book! Save a starving artist! :-) Available from Freya's Bower mid/late June.
Sunday, June 03, 2007
How Sweet!
In this day of publishing when everyone screams, "Hotter, hotter, hotter!" it is wonderful to find groups, like Sweeter Notions, who still value non-erotic stories. I joined them this week -- a place where good romance comes from the heart and quality writing, not just sex.
They even included my two June releases, "The Marian Kind," novella in the Summer Lovin' anthology from Freya's Bower, and "Something Blue," novella in Brides and Bouquets 2007 from By Grace Publishing, in their newsletter. Now that is sweet.
http://www.sweeterromanticnotions.blogspot.com/
They even included my two June releases, "The Marian Kind," novella in the Summer Lovin' anthology from Freya's Bower, and "Something Blue," novella in Brides and Bouquets 2007 from By Grace Publishing, in their newsletter. Now that is sweet.
http://www.sweeterromanticnotions.blogspot.com/
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