In the upcoming book A Billion Wicked Thoughts, neuroscientists Ogi Ogas and Sai Gaddam studied thousands of romance novels looking for clues about social expectations.

After analyzing 15,000 Harlequin books, they came up with the most popular professions for heroes in romance novels. The complete list follows below–what do you think?

Follow this link to read an excerpt from the book. They also write about these topics in a Psychology Today blog by the same name.

1. Doctor
2. Cowboy
3. Boss
4. Prince
5. Rancher
6. Knight
7. Surgeon
8. King
9. Bodyguard
10. Sheriff

The only question is, what if the doctor is a surgeon who’s also your boss? Does that count as 1 slot on the list, or 3? ^_^

This is going to be my first time attempting NaNo, and I’m hoping life will work with me, not against me!

The issue I face in the next week is to decide WHICH novel the bunnies are going to have me write. The two front running choices, while both RS (Romantic Suspense) are vary different in plot and features. The one I am leaning towards is an RS with a paranormal twist. It would be the 1st book in a potential 3 book series involving a set group of heroes/heroines who are thrown together to preserve life as we know it.

I’ve been fighting with this plot for about a year now, and the thought is… force myself to put it to paper (or computer) for NaNo then I’ll have no excuses as to why it’s not done! I already have all my characters and pairings down in a rough draft… there’s just the issue of figuring out which couple gets to tell their story first!

Anyone else out there taking the NaNo challenge this year? If so, add me to your NaNo buddies list, and I’ll see you on the other side when we emerge into the sunlight screaming that the light is too bright! ^_^

- Nika

Last week I had a fantastic 5/5 review come in from Manic Readers! I’m really happy to say it’s my 3rd independent review, and my third 5/5 ‘best book’ or ‘must read’ rating! I mean, I know it rocks, but it’s fantastic to hear when someone else thinks so, too!

Check out the review for Second Chances at the Manic Readers site.

And, in other news, I just checked the listings for Bookstrand (an eBook seller) and Second Chances is finally listing in their new arrivals. Now if only Barnes and Noble would get me into their list! (Sigh!)

Hugs!
- Nika

This weekend was spent out and about, having fun with friends, drinking, bbq’s, and watching fireworks. At one point, while swimming in the pool, I was slapped with a plot idea. A scene. A series of images that planted themselves in full colour into my brain and refused to leave. A woman floating face down in the water of a swimming pool, hair floating out around her head like a seaweed halo. And like that, a story idea was born.

I have about 30 of these story ideas bouncing about in a giant mosh pit in my head. The problem lies in trying to get them to settle down long enough for me to sort them out and start writing. ^_^ Now since some of them seem to be shorter rather than longer, I’ve decided to take a few of them and start putting together some free reads here on the site. Hopefully I’ll pick up a few more converts to my writing, and maybe a fan or two in there as well.

Either way, at least I’ll be able to get the ideas out of my head and onto the screen!

Hugs!
- Nika

Casey struggled out of a strange dream. Pictures of rain and bricks. Darkness and flashing lights. She grasped for the pieces, but they slipped away and disappeared.

She rolled over, pulling the warm blankets around her shoulders, drifting in the strange state of half-awake. Rain ticked in with an offbeat rhythm on the window, distracting her from the task of returning to sleep. She opened her eyes, the fuzzy edges falling away as she stared at the dark green comforter.

Her bedding was blue.

She blinked, confused.  

That wasn’t her nightstand. And why was it on the wrong side of the bed? And didn’t her clock have red digits, not neon green ones?

The realization this wasn’t her house, her room, her bed, shocked her body upright. With a gasp she launched herself into a seated position, confusion and panic of where she was slamming her heart into high gear. Sharp pain split her forehead. Everything tilted with carnival speed, and she pitched forward, desperate to get off the ride. Her body tangled in the bedding, trapping her limbs. She would have dropped face first onto the floor if her forward motion wasn’t halted by a pair of very solid hands.

“Easy,” a male voice growled.

Recognition shot down Casey’s spine with a shiver, and she squeezed her eyes shut. Only one man had the power to break her body into goose bumps with something as simple as the sound of his voice.

She raised her head and looked up into the hazel eyes of the last person she’d ever expected to see again.

Jackson Hale.

Her arms fought free of the encumbering blanket as she struggled to put space between them, but his fingers continued to burn the flesh of her upper arms. He eased her back down onto the pillows and lowered himself onto the edge of the bed.

She knew she stared, but she couldn’t stop. If Jackson was here…then the here was Jackson’s.

“Painkillers,” he supplied, releasing her arms to hand her a couple of small white pills followed by a glass of water.

She threw her concentration at getting the tablets onto her dry tongue, but had to use both hands to steady the glass while she gulped the water. After wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she held out the empty glass.

He took it from her shaking fingers and set it on the nightstand without taking his gaze off her.

Trapped like the proverbial deer, Casey couldn’t look away. Six months of faked ignorance and pretend normalcy fell away in a glance, leaving her feeling just as alone and lost as she was that night all those months ago.  

His entire body was tense, a coiled spring ready to snap if the pressure wasn’t soon released.

She wished he would talk, yell, shout. Anything but the silent stare he gave her right now. Casey read his face, the anger, the unasked questions reflected deep in his eyes. He may be able to still his mind and body, but those stormy hazel eyes betrayed everything.

He was still angry.

And he still blamed her.

She’d made a mistake in coming.

He wouldn’t help.

Desperation welled up into her throat, and she dropped her gaze.

And realized she wasn’t wearing her clothes.

With a shriek, she yanked the covers up to her chin. “Where are my clothes?” Her cheeks heated under his unconcerned expression.

“Laundry.”

“Did you…?” She paused. “Did you take them off?” She was mortified to think he’d undressed her while she was unconscious. The burn spread to her ears.

“You weren’t exactly in any condition to do it yourself,” he pointed out. “What with you passing out and all.”

Casey tried to portray casual, as though waking up in a strange bed, wearing nothing but her underwear, was a common occurrence. But the feeling of embarrassed fire across her cheeks and neck was not helping.

Jackson stood and crossed to the tall oak dresser standing against the far wall. Casey breathed a sigh of relief at the added space and squeezed her eyes shut, wishing she was still asleep. At the sound of a dresser drawer opening, she snapped her eyes open just in time to catch the wadded up t-shirt he flung at her.

She clutched the material over her breasts, her knuckles bunched around the cotton so tightly they turned white.

He crooked an eyebrow.

“Turn around?” she squeaked.

With an exasperated sigh, he turned his back.

Casey tugged the shirt down over her head and pulled the bottom hem over her thighs. Then she tugged the blankets back up to her chin.

“Okay,” she muttered.

He faced her again but remained in the middle of the room, his arms crossed over his chest, watching with intensity.

Casey took a deep breath and held it.

Jackson Hale was one tall, dark, and sexy man.

Especially when he looked ready to strangle someone.

In this case—her.  

His stance was wide, his legs braced. The well-worn jeans hugged his muscular thighs, and the light gray t-shirt stretched across his upper arms, accenting the raw strength and muscle of his torso. For years he’d kept his hair cropped short, military style, but now it was thick and wavy, the length almost touching his collar. His features were dangerous, rugged, and he needed a shave.

An avenging angel.

Just not hers.

Not anymore.

Dropping her gaze to the bedding, she ran a shaky hand through her tangled hair. Her fingers brushed against a piece of gauze taped behind her ear, and she winced. She pulled at it, frowning.

“Don’t pick at it,” he snapped.

Her eyes jumped to his, her mouth open in reply, but her mind couldn’t complete the order to speak, so she let it close.

Her stomach jumped at the silence and gave a long, slow burble.

Jackson’s eyes narrowed.

Casey watched as his shoulders lowered and his arms dropped loosely along his sides. “I’ll make you something to eat. Shower’s through there. Towels are on the back of the door. Come downstairs when you’re done,” he ordered, then turned and walked towards the hallway. “And then I expect the details. All of them.”

He left without looking back.

Just like he had half a year ago.

Covering her eyes with her hand, she flopped back down onto the pillows, unable to come up with a coherent answer to the question now what? 

Her stomach growled again, and she sighed, arguing the pros and cons of leaving now versus later. He didn’t want her here any more than she wanted to be here. But she couldn’t go without her clothes, and what harm could a shower cause? Clean up first, and then she would collect her things and leave with at least part of her dignity intact.

So what if she drained his water tank in the process? 

Sure it was petty.

But somehow the thought of leaving him with an icy cold shower gave her the drive to push off the covers and head to the bathroom.

Check out some of the other Excerpt Monday Authors:
Bryn Donovan, Paranormal Romance (PG13)
Julia Knight, Fantasy Romance (PG 13)
RF Long, Paranormal (PG13)
Christina DeLorenzo, YA (PG 13)
Caitlynn Lowe, Epic Fantasy (PG)

So I set out to create one in time for all the Monday promo loops!

Unfortunately, my laptop is not hearty enough to run Adobe Premier CS3. So…I defaulted to Windows Movie Maker. Not my first choice by far, but I guess it got the job done. ^_^ You’ll have to be the judge! So, after a few hours of looking for stock footage and searching for a good soundtrack, I pieced it all together and here is the result:

The soundtrack (which is a fantastic piece of music) was written and performed by Derek R. Audette. It’s called “The Lonesome Death of Jonas Grumby”.

Enjoy!
- Nika

In romance, the lead characters are sexy. Most by looks, a few by charisma. But the majority are just down right gorgeous. Hunky. Drool worthy.

Now I don’t know about most of you out there, but in real life, things don’t always work that way. Very few of my girl friends are size two’s with a sultry voice and a gorgeous body. And while the men in their lives are their alpha-male heroes, they’re not all romance cover models. (Shhh… don’t tell them I said that, though.)

So what can we do to stop the “pffft, like anyone would ever be like that?” reaction to our gorgeous heroes and heroines?

Character flaws.

Countless literary educators teach about making your characters human. There’s a lot of prep work into character development, and everyone has their own way of doing it. But almost all the educators will tell you the easiest thing to do is to start with someone you know. Find a person in your life who has one or more of the characteristics you want in your character, and use them as a launching pad. By doing this, you give your character a start in life.

What’s your quirk?

I knew a man who couldn’t stop snapping his fingers whenever he got the start of an idea. He would be halfway through his sentence, stop, snap his fingers half a dozen times, then wiggle his index finger frantically before blurting out his new idea. It was annoying as hell. But a really cool thing to add to a character you want to project as annoying.

Is your character a mom with a young boy? Guaranteed she has Hot Wheels cars in her purse, crayons and a coloring book in the glove box, and knows the name of every monster truck. Is the man a wanna-be handyman? Always offering to fix something but has no idea how to actually use a level or straight-edge? Or is he a car fanatic? Never able to point out a vehicle without telling everyone the make, model, year, engine size, horsepower, history, and odd fact about the paint color on models made in the 70’s? Is your heroine such a bad cook she can screw up a glass of water?

There are so many things you can use to make your characters more likeable. By using character flaws and personality quirks the reader can associate with, you will bring them up off the page and right into our hearts.

For me, the first thing I notice about a book is the cover. If the image or artwork is cheesy, badly drawn, or has an awkward composition, I won’t even pick it up to read the blurb. What I love to see is deep, vibrant colours and contrasts. Because I’m a romantic suspense author, and lover of the paranormal, I’m automatically drawn to those types of covers. Dark and sensual. Mysterious.

The second thing I notice is the man.

And who doesn’t? Right ladies?

If he’s hunky he’s got my attention. I understand the need to put the heroine on the cover as well, but being of the female gender, I’m way more interested in the hero. I once bought a book just because the photo of the guy on the cover stopped me dead in my tracks. I think I was in the grocery store and I NEVER buy books in the grocery store. Never. Until I walked past hunky mister green eyes. Damn near crashed my cart into the candy display in a hurry to grab the paperback out of the rotating stand. Now that’s purchase power.

Yet not every book needs people on the cover. There are a great many covers that use locations, or symbols (especially in paranormal books) to convey the theme of the book, and still catch the reader’s eye.

Some authors are lucky enough to sell books on name alone, but for most of us the cover is what is going to get us past the next guy in line. I think most of the time the author has absolutely no say in the design of the cover other than to make a few suggestions. We fill in a bio sheet describing our hero and heroine’s physical features and characteristics, list the various locations the story takes place in, and someone who hasn’t read the story then makes the decision on your cover.

Sometimes you get an eye-catching, shopping cart crashing cover.

Other times?

Well… you get covers that are entered into the “worst romance book cover” contest. ^_^

Thoughts? Comments? Any stories or cover art you’d like to share?

- Nika

In the world of romance, the alpha-male is our hero. The man who would risk everything, even life, to capture and hold what is his. He is by no means perfect, but he’s got the strength of character to learn from his mistakes. Is he sexy? Well, duh! This is romance after all!

I was picking up a background clearance at the police station for a teaching job last summer, and of course, I had to go to the police station to do it. When I walked in, the Constable behind the front desk stood up and asked if he could help me. No word of a lie ladies, he was so incredibly hunky gorgeous, I forgot everything. Including my name. I could pretty much just stand there like a fish and gape at the man. When he asked me a second time if he could help me, I managed to stutter out what it was I was looking for. He smiled and told me I had the wrong building. After I backed (yes backed) out of the doors, I grabbed my cell phone and called my girlfriend and told her to get her butt down to the station so we could go cause a disturbance and get arrested. Unfortunately (or fortunately) she declined. So no handcuffs for me.

Sigh.

My undoing is the rough and tumble bad-boy. Uniforms do me in. Especially uniforms that include weapons. And I don’t know what it is about form fitting leather and a powerful motorcycle, but a good looking guy on a bike most definitely turns my head. Add in a five o’clock shadow or a hint of a beard, physical strength, and eyes that see right through to your soul — and I’m a puddle of goo.

But the play maker is when he walks. An alpha-male doesn’t just walk. He strides. With purpose. It’s an I-don’t-care-what-you-think gait with a “move, or pay the consequences” attitude.

There’s a clip from the movie “Shooter” with Mark Wahlberg where he puts on his shades and walks out of the hangar. The walk alone nearly knocked me off my theatre seat. Even if you’re not a fan, you have to admire that gait. Whoo!

- Nika

The woman in me wants to scream and shout at the producers for feeding the frenzy that is our impressionable youth. Body image is so incredibly stressful when all you see is magazine models who have been Photoshop’d into an unrealistic representations of what someone thinks the ideal woman should be.

If you’ve never seen the Dove Evolution commercial, you need to watch it NOW.

Yet on the flip side, the romance author in me is absolutely fascinated by the various personalities on the show. There are so many elements to draw from for secondary characters. Subtlties in language, facial expressions, posture and placement. It’s fascinating to see the way the women interact with each other, the catty bitching, the snide comments, the fake friendship.

I do have to say, that despite my disdain for the institution of modeling shows, I’m caught watching it like a car crash.