Friday, July 15, 2011

Welcome Wendy Marcus

As you all know, I don't usually invite romance authors over here because I write for children. I have made an exception today for Romance author extraordinaire, Wendy Marcus. (Besides, I know some writerly Mama's that read this after their day of writing for children.) *wink*

Wendy's Harlequin Medical Romance, WHEN ONE NIGHT ISN’T ENOUGH has hit the shelves and she is here to promote it. So without further adieu, here's Wendy.

Hi Robyn!
Thank you so much for hosting me at the 20th stop of my blog tour to promote my Harlequin Medical Romance, WHEN ONE NIGHT ISN’T ENOUGH. Whenever I’m scheduled to visit a blog, I always stop by beforehand to read through recent posts and get a feel for what the blog followers expect. Usually it sparks my imagination, and I can come up with something suitable and unique.

Yet try as I might, I have been unable to come up with a correlation between picture books/middle grade novels/YA novels and medical romance. Even though I’ve met people who admit to reading their mother’s/grandmother’s Harlequin Romance Novels as early as the age of 10 (yes I said 10!), it’s not the audience I write for, and having impressionable children myself, I wouldn’t feel comfortable with anyone under the age of 18 reading my book. 

Because there’s sex in it.

Now I know sex can be found in YA books, I have read Judy Blume, after all. But I’d like to think it’s handled differently than it is in books targeted towards adults. Am I naïve? A prude? It must be the mother in me. Give me a minute to shove her in the closet.

There. Now that that’s done, I’d like to chat about the reason I’m here. My debut Harlequin Medical Romance, WHEN ONE NIGHT ISN’T ENOUGH.

Here’s what it’s about:
           Nurse Ali Forshay has found the perfect man for her. Dependable. Routine. Boring. Exactly what she wants to ensure a quiet, stable and anonymous life. Then his friend, Dr. Jared Padget, shows up and goodbye fairytale ending. The man’s a schmoozer. A womanizer. A whoo-a-woman-into-bed-using-any-means-necessary kind of man just like her father. And Ali wants nothing to do with him. But he’s so tempting. Thank goodness his temporary assignment at Madrin Memorial is over, and he’s heading out of town.
If only he hadn’t shown up at girls’ night out on the eve of his departure. If only he hadn’t taken her up on her drunken one-time offer. If only he hadn’t come back when he’d promised to stay away…
Here’s an excerpt (suitable for everyone):

Float nurse Allison Forshay glanced at the clock on the institutional white wall of the staff lounge in the Emergency Room, wishing she could accelerate time with the snap of her fingers. Then the eight hours and six minutes that remained of Dr. Jared Padget’s last shift would vanish in seconds.
            Along with him.  
            The chorus of sopranos belting out a private concert in her head came to an abrupt halt when the door opened and chatter from the busy outside hallway overpowered her glee.
            Ali cringed, keeping her eyes on the patient chart open on the round table in front of her, struggling to maintain focus on her documentation for little Molly Dawkins, her first patient of the night. The three-year-old, blond-haired, blue-eyed terror had tried to bite the triage nurse and kicked at Ali when she’d attempted to expose the girl’s infected big toe. Then Dr. Padget had  arrived, complimented the pink polish on Molly’s tiny toenails, the delicate gold bracelets on her ankle and wrist, and the princess tattoo on her hand. In less than three minutes he’d charmed that little girl right out of her sandal, confirming Ali’s suspicion. Women of all ages were susceptible to the man’s charisma. 
            If there was a vaccine to protect against it, Ali would have opted for a double dose.
            The subtle change in the air gave him away, some type of electrostatic attraction that caused the tiny hairs on her arms to rise and lean in his direction, her heart rate to accelerate, and her breath to hitch whenever he found her alone.
            His blue scrub-covered legs and red rubber clogs entered her peripheral vision. He pulled out the chair beside her and sat down, brushing his arm against hers. No doubt on purpose, the rat. 
            “You’ve been avoiding me,” Dr. Jared Padget said.
            “You’re hardly worth the effort it would take to avoid you.” Although, in truth, she was. 
            “I’m leaving on Monday.”
            Yes! Finally! His arrival three months ago had thrown her life into a state of flux. Now, his temporary assignment over, his departure meant she could finally settle back into a normal routine free from his constant badgering at work and ‘coincidental’ encounters on her days off. With a flippant wave of her hand she said, “Here. Gone. Alive. Dead. Makes no difference to me.”
            “Come on, Ali Kitten.” He snatched her pen. “You know you’re going to miss me.”
            “About as much as I’d miss a painful hemorrhoid,” she said, glaring at him from the corners of her eyes. “And you know I don’t like when you call me that.” 
            “Yeah,” he said with a playful twinkle in his peridot-green eyes and that sexy smile, complete with bilateral dimples that tormented her in her sleep. He leaned back in his chair and clasped his long fingers, and her pen, behind his head. “That’s what makes it so much fun.”
Ali grabbed at her pen, making sure to mess up his neatly styled dark hair. He raised his hand over his head and back out of reach, his expression daring her to come closer.
            She didn’t.
            He chucked the pen onto the table.   
            “I hear a bunch of you are going out Sunday night to celebrate my departure,” he said, making no mention of the fact he hadn’t been invited.
            She shrugged, tamping down the other, less joyful reason for the night out. “It’s as good as any other excuse for the girls to get together. And it’s easier and less fuss than burning you in effigy.”
            He moved forward, rested his elbows on the table and leaned in close. “Was that supposed to hurt my feelings, Kitten?” His voice, soft and deep, vibrated through her.
            Four hours into a busy twelve-hour night shift, and he had the nerve to still smell fresh from the shower. A picture of him naked, water sluicing down his tall, firm body, slick with suds, forced its way into her mind. It took immense self-control not to pound her fists against her head to get rid of it.
            “What’s going on in that pretty little head I wonder?” he teased, staring at her face as if trying to see behind what she hoped was a disinterested expression. 
            Heaven help her if he could. For months she’d fought this attraction. First she couldn’t act on it. Now she wouldn’t.
            Distance was the only thing that worked so she gathered her charts and stood. 
            Jared rose to stand directly in front of her, so close she noticed a tiny freckle on the skin exposed by the V-neck of his scrub top, a miniscule droplet of chocolate she wanted to lick clean. He smelled so good, his scent an intoxicant that impaired rational thought.    
            She stared straight ahead, at his clavicle, wouldn’t meet his eyes for fear the way he affected her would show. “Please move.” 
            “I think you don’t want me to move, you like me right here.”
            “Now you can read minds?” She took a step back. Distance. What she wanted was distance between them. Preferably a continent, but the opposite side of New York State, the site of his next temporary assignment, would have to do.   
            “Yes, I can.” He tilted his face in front of hers. “And you are thinking some very naughty thoughts, Nurse Forshay.”
            “Only if you consider me beating you with the bell of my stethoscope naughty. Now get out of my way.” She pushed his arm. “I’ve got to get back to work, and so do you.”
            He turned serious for a change. “Are you ever going to forgive me?”
            “To forgive you I would have to care about you.” She looked up and locked eyes with him. “And I don’t. Not one bit.”

If you’d like to read more, WHEN ONE NIGHT ISN’T ENOUGH is available for purchase here: 

To learn more about me please visit my website:
So did you ever sneak a female relative’s Harlequin Romances when you were a child? What did you make of them? Granted, they’ve changed quite a bit over the years. Any questions you have about Harlequin Medical Romance in particular, I’m happy to do my best to answer. One lucky commenter will win a copy of the 2in1 UK edition of my book which includes a full novel by Janice Lynn!

Thank you for being here, Wendy. You are a lovely lady. I wish you good luck with this fascinating book and exciting career you have going here. 

Okay Wendy! I admit it! I read my older relatives Harlequin Romances when I was  young. (Not my granny's. She didn't have them in her house.) My secret is out. How about you? :-) Comment people for your chance to win.

Tuesday, July 5, 2011

Please Welcome J.C. Martin

Join me in welcoming fellow writer, J.C.Martin. She is here to talk about her inspiration for the anthology, Stories for Sendai. 

J.C. thanks for being here. Talk on, my friend.

I’m really grateful for Robyn for allowing me to hijack her blog for the tour! Today’s post is about my inspiration for the anthology.
The last natural disaster that really struck close to home for me was the Boxing Day tsunami in 2004, when an earthquake in the Indian Ocean spawned a massive tsunami that devastated the coasts of pretty much every country in southeast Asia. Having spent the first eighteen years of my life in Malaysia, and with family and friends still living there, the tsunami affected me on a deep, personal level. Although everyone I knew were fortunately spared, there were beaches I frequented as a child that were hit by the tidal waves, and I was overwhelmed by extent and reach of the tsunami, which affected places as far away as Maldives, Seychelles and Tanzania off the African coast!
When the Boxing Day earthquake and tsunami struck, I was still a cash-strapped student living thousands of miles away in London. I felt powerless to help. Although I gave what I could for charity, I felt my efforts were as insignificant as a drop in the ocean.
When the magnitude 9.1 earthquake hit off the coasts of Japan on March 11th, spawning a massive tsunami that swamped the Japanese coastline, the swathe of devastation was a haunting re-creation of the disaster in southeast Asia seven years ago.
Sure, this event didn’t hit as close to home as the last one, but it was close enough: shockwaves from Japan reached the eastern shores of Malaysia. This time though, I felt in a better position to help: I’ve just begun to pursue my writing career seriously, and I’m in the midst of building a modest online platform. So instead of trying to act as an individual, why not try and rally aid from my fellow bloggers worldwide? 
With that in mind, and following in the wake of charity anthologies like Tales for Canterbury and 100 Stories for Queensland, Stories for Sendai was born. And with your help, we could really try and make a difference! By buying a copy of Stories for Sendai, you’ll not only be donating to a worthwhile cause (all proceeds from the anthology will be donated to Global Giving, a project which disburses funds to aid and rescue efforts on the ground that needs it most), you’ll also be getting a wonderfully designed book with 20 uplifting and inspirational stories about the strength of the human spirit! 
Thanks J.C. hugs and more hugs for making a difference. My copy arrives on Thursday. I can't wait to sit down a spell and immerse myself in these uplifting stories.

Please join me in supporting this worthwhile cause. Linkage for buying your copy/copies follows.  Thank you all for helping out. YEAH! :-)

Monday, July 4, 2011

Please Visit Tomorrow When My Pal J.C. Martin Visits

It is the stories for Sendai blog tour. I really want you all to stop by and read what this amazing woman has to say. See you then. *smiling at you all*