Jenyfer Matthews

I was born in a small town in Iowa, and have traveled extensively, living in several different regions of the U.S. and briefly overseas. I ended up back in the Midwest where I’m married to a very talented glass artist who spends alot of time in the studio, making amazingly beautiful things. We have assorted animals who live with us and who make regular appearances in my books under various pseudonyms (they know who they are).

In 2003 I read my first romance novel and immediately decided this was the genre for me. But there was a problem: the books I read all featured young heroines, interested in starting a family and having babies. So I started writing romantic suspense (with an occasional side trip into paranormal fantasy) about older women, with some age on’em, who are interested in men and sex and having a good relationship (which may or may not include a marriage). I hope you enjoy reading about them as much as I enjoy writing about them.

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It seems like whenever I’m here at Jen’s blog I’m talking about second books in a series. I’m not sure what bit of timing causes that, but it’s interesting.

I have the second book in my “Fatal Writer’s Conference” series out now. The series features B.R. Emerson (Bea or “Ralph” to her friends … her pen name is Raphael Emerson, hence the Ralph). Bea writes sexy mystery stories featuring Cal Delvecchio, a fictional hero she created. But then she met a guy who reminds her so much of Cal. The problem was, the guy was a cop and he was investigating a murder that took place at a writer’s conference where Bea was a guest — and almost a victim.

The first book took place at a fictional writer’s conference in Abilene where I introduced Bea and the cop, Lucas Remarchik. The second book is set in Florida and I created a fictional conference based on the Clue board game. The categories for writing awards are the Mrs. Peacock (best historical), the Miss Scarlet (best sexy mystery), Mrs. White (best cozy) … you get the idea. The workshops are all held in board rooms with Clue board game names (the “conservatory” is where forensics talks are held; the “library” is the bookstore).

As part of the conference, there’s a cover model contest (anyone who’s gone to RT will be somewhat familiar with this, although I’ve changed it a bit to suit my purposes). As the book opens, one of these male models accosts my heroine, Bea Emerson, giving her a big kiss in the hotel lobby. Unfortunately Bea’s lover, Lucas, sees it and he has an argument with the model. When the model is found dead on the beach later, well, Lucas is a suspect. A few days later …

Oh, that would be telling. Suffice it to say, Bea & Lucas have had their ups and downs in their relationship (which started with the first book, Autographs, Abductions and A-List Authors). In this book, their relationship takes a definite twist, one that Bea didn’t see coming. What is it? Find out in June when the third book releases!

Here are links to excerpts for each book:

Autographs, Abductions, and A-list Authors

Sun, Surf, and Sandy Strangulation

For more info about both books (and the other books I have out), check my web site.

Are there more books coming after the third one? I didn’t plan to create more, but I went to a conference in January. It was on a cruise ship and I found the *perfect* place to murder someone on that ship. Then I came up with a motive, and a victim and a villain. And before you know it, I brought Bea and Lucas out of retirement and I’m working on that book now.

Sometimes these characters take on a life of their own…

Buy this book! Also available in print!

Commissar Markov has long been a loyal party member, but I fear his growing influence in state policy. Perhaps it is time to cash in a favor from my friends at the Kremlin.

If you love LOL cats like I love LOL cats, you have to check out this site.

One of the things I like best about my substitute work at the school library is the opportunity to chat with the Egyptian ladies who work there. The weather has been odd this year – we’ve had a much milder winter than usual and the temperature has been all over the place in the last few weeks. It was cloudy the day I worked last week and looked like it might rain, and I remarked on it to one of the ladies who was working at a desk nearby. Surely it was too early for the khamseen season (sand storms)?

She shook her head and said it wasn’t the khamseen, it was the month of amsheer.

In three years living here, I’ve never heard of amsheer. She explained to me that it doesn’t necessarily correspond to a calendar month – it’s a lunar month from the Coptic calendar. Amsheer is the month after tooba, which is the coldest month of the year. The month of amsheer however has the weather of all four seasons – some hot, some cold, some cloudy, a bit of rain. After this month, it will finally be spring (followed closely by the sandstorms of the khamseen).

I was fascinated to hear this explanation – and it did indeed seem to encompass all the weather we’ve had in the last few weeks. I was sun bathing two weekends ago while yesterday it was cold, cloudy, and spitting rain.

Even more amusing was explaining this to other westerners – none of whom had ever heard of the term either. In fact, one acquaintance turned to an Egyptian man and asked what amsheer was. He responded “the month after tooba.”

Obviously, I have a lot to learn about Egypt – but first I have to figure out which questions to ask

A neighbor of mine had a lovely beaded curtain hanging in her apartment and it occurred to me one day that I’d like one for my apartment too. It turns out that she got it in a very small shop in a local market close to downtown and she offered to take me there on Saturday.

The market is near Attaba Square downtown and was utterly fascinating. I was a little hesitant about taking pictures at first, but then I figured there was no way I was going to blend in anyway! Everywhere I looked there was a photo, but the place was so crowded and there was so much going on it was difficult to frame shots. In the end I just took what I could and figured that maybe some of them would be okay.

(click images to enlarge)

A little bit of this, a little bit of that!

Notice the talented lady in the shadow on the left!

Need shoes? Got shoes!

I can’t imagine a place I would want to buy lingerie less!

A very typical street scene, taken from the car.

It was a successful outing. I got my beaded curtain ($16) and some lovely pictures. I also got the itch to get out of my rut once in a while and go exploring. My own neighborhood is quite bland by comparison to some places that aren’t all that far off. I’m here, I might as well see what I can see, right?

ETA: or perhaps in light of the bombing yesterday, I’ll just stay in my bubble for now. My thoughts are with all those families who had loved ones killed or hurt.

Eilis Flynn has worked at a comic book company, a couple of Wall Street brokerage firms, a wire service, and a magazine for futurists. She’s written a variety of things that don’t seem to belong together, but they do: comic book stories both online and in print, scholarly works in a previous life as a scholar, book reviews and interviews, and articles about finance (at odds with her anthropology background), before settling down to write romantic fantasies about the reality beyond what we can see.

Eilis’s latest book, Echoes of Passion, is coming out from Cerridwen Press on July 2, 2009.

With Spaceships Instead of Horses

One of the most famous stories about the creation of Star Trek is how Gene Roddenberry referred to the show as he was shopping it around: “Wagon Train” to the stars, he said, referring to a TV Western show that was popular at the time. Boiled down to the generalities, they had a lot in common: Every week, there was a new story about something different on their voyages. One voyage just happened to be on the dusty trail, the other in deep space.

When I was writing Echoes of Passion, I tried to keep that in mind. EoP, you see, is a sci-fi romance, and even though I’d written fantasies before, I’d never written anything resembling science fiction (I don’t count stories about super-heroines as sci-fi; they are firmly in the realm of the fantastic). Because EoP is a story in the Hunters for Hire universe, a shared universe created and developed by a number of Ellora’s Cave and Cerridwen Press authors, I had to make sure I adhered to the story bible. I couldn’t come up with plot devices out of the blue that might be at cross-ends with the bible, so I had to make sure that the indigenous peoples were either mentioned or not contradicting story canon. And it had to be something that was vaguely futuristic. It had to be space opera.

But I’m not a fan of opera in general.

I had a vague story idea but that was it, and my fear of having to deal with someone else’s canon kept tripping me up. But I kept reminding myself that the space opera was mere trapping, that a story was a story, and once I kept that in mind, EoP finally bloomed.

ECHOES OF PASSION is about Daegon Bosaru, a Secret Sciences Police officer, who discovers that someone is spreading damaging rumors about the role that his dying father, the former Neotian ambassador to the Amalgamation, played in the Neotian civil war. To discover the truth, Daegon must travel to the new home world of his clan — where he encounters a mysterious, passionate woman he has been seeing in his dreams for most of his life. She has information he needs — but she disappears whenever he gets close to her.

What does the mysterious woman know? And what do the accusations against his father have to do with this? Bosaru discovers that Verot Barus Kurog, the crazed ex-dictator who led the home world into a civil war, is still alive, and has plans to rise to glory again, no matter how many more people have to die for it to happen — and the doomsday device that destroyed Neotia Prime is still within his grasp.

Bosaru must track down the mad ex-dictator — but first, he must find out what the woman of mystery knows.

ECHOES OF PASSION

Secrets can destroy, but they can also liberate

Neotia Prime…

The home world of the Neoti and the Vozuans was destroyed by a doomsday device twenty years ago, but the troubles and the unrest that led to the event still plague those who resettled on the twin planet. When Daegon Bosaru arrives there, determined to find out who is out to smear his dying father’s good name, he discovers that the tragedies of that civil war still haunt those who remain. Not only that, the mysterious, beautiful woman he’s been seeing in his dreams over the past twenty years may have information he needs, but when he finally meets Imreen Dal in the flesh, she seems not to know him–and further, she runs from him every time she encounters him. Why?

And rumors persist that the crazed dictator who set off the doomsday device may still be alive…with fresh plans for conquest. Bosaru needs to find out how his father, the mysterious Imreen, and the madman are related…and stop another world from being destroyed.

ECHOES OF PASSION
Excerpt

Where did you go? You’re not getting away this time, Imreen Dal!

A flash out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. So what was going on, she hit him over his head and then tried to trip him up, but she stayed around to make sure he was all right? That was a mistake.

She took off, but he was faster, and now, he was angry. She knew the area better, but he knew it fairly well by now. And he was very angry.

Every time she took a turn, he took it a little faster. Every time she tried to double back, he blocked her way. Little by little, he cornered her again–into an open-air alley, with natural light, with no windows, no exits, no tunnels nearby. She was trapped.

If he hadn’t been blindingly angry, he would have felt bad about it. But just in case, he made sure there was nothing around that she could hit him over the head with again.

There was a small, quivering shadow in the corner, almost hidden behind the trash bins.

Her time was up.

“Imreen Dal. Show yourself!” Bosaru shouted.

For a minute the alley was dead silent. For a minute he didn’t think she would comply. Finally he heard a rustle in the shadowed corner before an indistinct form emerged. Even before she hit the light he knew who it was. The white and gold fabric of her priestess shift glinted, just enough to highlight the curves it was wrapped around.

Imreen Dal. The same priestess he first encountered in the shrine.

Imreen Dal. The woman who had been his dreams’ companion all these years.

“Imreen Dal.” Bosaru took a deep breath. “Good to see you again.”

The expression on her face was pensive. Or was it doleful? “I wish I could say the same, Officer Bosaru,” she said. “I did my best to keep away from you, but to this end.”

“Why?”

Her face shifted from pensive–resigned, he realized–to something set. There was a glint in her eye. “I thought it was clear. I do not want to speak to you.”

Well, that was blunt. “Just a few questions.”

“I decline.”

“Why? You don’t even know what I’m going to ask!”

“I can guess.”

“Then why didn’t you just decline instead of leading me on a chase?”

“Would you have let it go at that?”

“No,” Bosaru said. “And you didn’t have to hit me over the head, either.”

“I didn’t,” she said.

They stared at each other for a second. “Then who did?” he asked.

“I don’t know.”

Bosaru stared at her some more. “You weren’t in the burned-out building around the corner?”

She shook her head. “I was hiding around the corner of it when you went inside. I avoid that building. It’s not stable.”

“But it’s got an entrance to the tunnels. I thought that’s where you were going.”

“I don’t like the tunnels either,” she said. “I only use them when I have to.”

“Then why weren’t you gone by the time I got back out?”

“I was worried about you,” she said. “I stayed until I saw you coming out and knew you were safe. And then I left.”

“Then why didn’t you go into the alleyway that was closest? That would have let you in a safe place.”

“I don’t like that alleyway,” she said.

“Is there anything you do like?”

“Being left alone.”

“What is with you?” he asked, exasperated. “I’m not asking for m–”

“I need to get out of here,” she said, her eyes growing huge. “Now.”

She tried to leave, tried to run, but Bosaru stopped her. “Why?”

Imreen Dal looked up at him, her eyes wide. “Haven’t you noticed?” she asked. “The sun’s set. We can’t be out.”

Echoes of Passion – coming from Cerridwen Press July 2009!

Go ahead – visit blogthings. See if you get anything else done today

You Are Factual

You are highly intelligent, especially in areas that deal with concrete knowledge and facts. You are amazingly analytical. You can make sense of chaos without involving your emotions. If anything, you tend to be overly logical. It’s sometimes hard for you to come to a decision, because you’re too busy weighing all the options. People turn to you in times of trouble. They know that they can trust you to give good, well thought out advice.

If you eat a snack-sized bag of Doritos while you are walking at a brisk pace doing errands, do you think the walking cancel out the calories? Discuss.

As for me, I’d certainly like to think so…

My “day off” last week wasn’t exactly what I’d planned because my son ended up staying home with a cough that day. But this weekend made up for it.

The weekend in Egypt is Friday / Saturday. Friday morning my husband took my daughter off to do some tennis practice and my son went off to play with a friend, leaving me on my own for several hours. I used that time to putter about in the kitchen and made some Valentine’s Day treats. I’d planned to make truffles for Valentine’s Day but since I still haven’t had time to take my microwave in for a check-up and I don’t have a double boiler to melt the chocolate, instead I made chocolate mint-chip oatmeal cookies (an oatmeal cookie made with cocoa and chips) and some banana bread. Quality control is crucial in situations like this and I’m happy to say that the cookies were awesome. Only the best for my family

And since I’d been on tennis duty all week, I sent my husband to soccer practice on Saturday morning. Me? I stayed home in my jammies and made a baby quilt. Just a few hours alone listening to music and sewing undid all the stress of the week. My husband came home later with the kids and two big chocolate bars for me – one huge Nestle Crunch (selected by children) and one Lindt Intense Mint dark chocolate. They in turn were very enthusiastic about the cookies I’d made.

Time to myself and chocolate. What more could I have asked for?

Christie Craig is an award-winning, multi-published writer whose non-fiction and photography have appeared in almost three thousand national magazines. A Golden Heart finalist, and a finalist in more than fifty RWA-sponsored contests, she has gained a well-deserved reputation for writing romance fiction that has both witty humor and a suspenseful, sexy tone. Published by Silhouette in the 90s, she recently broke back into fiction in a big way, making four book sales in one day. Her first single title romance novel, Divorced, Desperate & Delicious published by Dorchester, hit the stands in December 07. Her latest non-fiction book, to be released September 08, is The Everything Guide To Writing A Romance Novel.

Christie’s latest, Divorced, Desperate, and Dating, is available now!

Praise for DIVORCED, DESPERATE, and DATING

“. . . another delightfully entertaining novel with an intriguing mystery. “—Romantic Times BOOKreviews

“…deliciously sexy romances that are as addictive as a can of Pringles; once you start, you can’t stop!”—Night Owl Romance

“…Fans of Janet Evanovich should check [Craig] out.” –Parkersburg News and Sentinel

“Craig earns only the highest praise!”—Manic Readers
“…the jewel of finds when it comes to new authors.” —The Good, The Bad, and The Unread

“What do you write?”

I get asked that question by everyone who hears that I actually make my living penning words.

Now, I don’t mind being asked. As a matter of fact, I’ve kind of gotten fond of hearing people’s responses and even fonder of . . . well, gently educating them on my beloved genre. Oh, sure, every now and then I get one of those impressed looks that immediately informs me that the person asking said question actually reads romance and gets it. But let’s face it. These people aren’t nearly as much fun to deal with, or to blog about. It’s the others I enjoy.

Here’s a few of the more common responses I’ve gotten from . . . uninformed people about the romance genre, and how I gently educated them.

Scenario 1: Tact Only Goes so Far

Uninformed person: “Oh, you write that? I don’t read that.” Said with a look as if they’d just consumed a bad burrito.

Me: (Attempting to be nice.) “So what do you read?”

Uninformed person who is about to lose the uninformed person status and move straight to full-blown idiot: “Sci fi and horror.” (Said proudly.) “You know, by real writers.”

Me: (The gloves are off.) “Yeah. Real writers pen stories about psycho people running around removing people’s body organs, or eating people. They write real fiction about someone putting on a mask and using people as knife holders. Or maybe they kill women and use their skin to make themselves an outfit—you know, real life stuff. Or maybe they create alternate worlds where some people have a third eye, and two eyed people eat the three-eyed kind.” *

Generally, about this time is when the look on idiots’ faces remind me of someone who ate the bad burrito and it’s about to come up. I should shut up, but I can’t.

Me again: “Wait? I think some of that stuff appears in romance fiction, too. Sure, it does, it’s a tad less classy than what I described. But wait, we cheapen our stories by adding things like love, family, and commitment.”

Idiot who knows he’s stuck his foot in his mouth but must be hungry because he’s about to swallow it: “But you have sex in yours. What message would are you trying to send the young people?”

Me, having too much fun: “Yeah, and it’s generally the consensual kind of sex that doesn’t include torture, and we all know that doesn’t make it into real fiction. And I mean every parent would by far prefer that their children grow up to slaughter innocent victims or be prejudice against three-eyed aliens than do something so horrific as have sex with someone they will commit to.”

Scenario 2: Literature at Its Best

Uniformed Person (My son’s English teacher): “Oh, you write that. Well, I only read real literature.”

Me: (Did I tell you my son is failing English?): “Wow, you mean like Bridges of Madison County, and Romeo & Juliet.”

Snobbish teacher: Well, yes, I’ve read both of those. But they’re . . . different.”

Me (Totally understanding why my son is failing English): “Oh, I know exactly what you mean. When I lower myself to read a book in the romance genre like I write in, I seriously miss the unhappy, depressing ending that makes me want to go slice my wrists and neuter every penis-toting human within a mile radius of me.”

Yeah, I said “penis” to an English teacher, how cool was that?

Scenario 3: How My Doctor Became My Ex-Doctor

Uniformed MD (Aka—My doctor): “Romance? Hmm… It’s still fabulous that you’re a writer.”

Me (Not understand the . . . hmm, but still happy): “Thanks.”

Doctor: “How long does it take to write one of those books?”

Me (Not liking the “those books” comment, but giving him the benefit of the doubt): “Five or six months.”

Doctor (About to become my ex doctor): “You’re joking. I thought that type of fluff would go faster.”

Me (Thinking about the list of doctors I’d had to chose from when I accidentally picked this idiot): “Are you thinking about a writing a book some day?”

Doctor (Securing his position as my Ex-doctor) “As a matter of fact, I’ve thought about it. You know, doing it in my spare time.”

Me (being a smart ass): “That’s funny.”

Doctor: “What’s funny?”

Me: “It’s just I’m thinking about becoming a doctor in my spare time.”

Okay…that’s just a few of my responses about my beloved romance genre. Are you guys romance readers? Writers? What books have you read lately?

Please stop by my website and my regular Tuesday blog at Killer Fiction.

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* Hi Guys,

Christie Craig

So it’s that time of year again at the children’s school – the time of year when they celebrate International Day.

Part of International Day consists of the children going to school wearing their national dress. Some countries like India have gorgeous clothing to draw on. What does dressing like an American mean though? I have been through this year after year – ever since my daughter was in pre-school in fact – and it never really gets easier. Because unless you are going to dress up like a Pilgrim or something, there really is no national dress of America. Last year I suggested that the children wear their baseball jerseys and hats. What could be more American? Of course they wouldn’t comply. My daughter wore shorts and a “Nevada” t-shirt and since I can’t recall what my son wore, I’m sure it was equally as uninspired.

This year, the teachers have added a new component: a talent show. The idea is that the children could perform songs or dances from their countries. My son wanted to participate but he didn’t know what to do. I suggested that he could sing “This Land is My Land” – nevermind that Woody Guthrie wrote it not to be patriotic but as a protest song, it’s short and sweet and, I thought, perfect for the occasion.

My son insisted he wanted to dance instead. What sort of dance would be considered American? The Hustle?

As for me, I’ll be working all afternoon at the American food table, handing out hot-dogs and popcorn. Actually, it’s only for two hours but it will feel like all afternoon!

Don’t forget to stop by this weekend when Christie Craig, author of romance Divorced, Desperate, and Dating will be here. And whether or not you’re doing anything special for Valentine’s day, have a great weekend!

PS – In case anyone was wondering, I recovered my plant. It had been stashed amongst some larger plants in the corner of the communal garden, somewhat worse for wear from its five-story fall. I have no idea what the gardener thought he was doing hiding it there, and I didn’t even try to ask. I just took my plant back up to my place and found it a more secure place to live and recover!