SquawkRadio

When I said I was revisiting some beloved “old” friends, you probably thought I was going to drop by Christina’s or Connie’s for coffee, but I’m actually referring to the fact that Bantam is re-releasing two of my “classic” romances--A WHISPER OF ROSES and THIEF OF HEARTS today at a very special price of only $4.99.  When I talk about my books on-line or elsewhere, I realize that I often sound like either an incurable egotist or a raving lunatic.  (Shut up, Liz.) Because when somebody gushes, “Oh, I just loved that hero!”, I can’t help but gush right back, “Oh me too!  I absolutely adored him!” Or when somebody writes, “What a wonderful story!”, I catch myself sighing wistfully and thinking, “Yes, it was, wasn’t it?”

But I don’t love my stories because I wrote them.  I love them because I lived them.  I feel every emotion my characters are feeling.  When they laugh, I laugh.  When they hurt, I cry.  When my heroine falls in love with my hero, I fall in love right along with her.  I yearn, I ache, I burn.  As I write, their memories become my own and to me that’s one of the greatest blessings of this profession.  This is why it’s such a joy when a book gets reprinted.  When you can not only revisit your beloved old friends but introduce them to some of the new friends--your treasured readers--that you’ve made along the way.

I still keenly remember writing one wildly dramatic scene in A WHISPER OF ROSES.  (If you’ve read the book, you’ll probably know exactly what scene I’m talking about.) The theme from LAST OF THE MOHICANS was blaring on the stereo.  I was writing and sobbing so hard I could barely see the monitor through my tears a la Joan Wilder in Romancing the Stone.  I did the dastardly deed I knew I had to do, finished the scene with a flourish of my fingers on the keyboard, then jumped up and shouted, “Oh Lord, that was SO much fun!” See what I mean?  Oh wait...I was trying to convince you that I WASN’T a lunatic, wasn’t I? 

Morgan MacDonnell, the hero of A WHISPER OF ROSES broke quite a few molds for me.  As some of you may have noticed, I tend to favor lean heroes with broad shoulders and narrow hips.  But Morgan is a strapping fellow--a brawny Highlander with a heart nearly as large as he is.  He’s also the youngest of my heroes but since he’s been herding his wild band of outlaw clansman since he was twelve, I can promise you that he’s every inch a man.  It’s no wonder that Sabrina Cameron first falls in love with him when she’s only six and he’s twelve.  I don’t know what it is about those wild Highland lads but I’ve never been able to resist them and judging from their continued popularity to this day, most readers can’t either.  (Jamie Fraser anyone?)

Since I don’t want to be the only inmate at the asylum, does this ever happen to you as readers?  Do the characters you read about ever become as real to you as your own friends and family?  Is re-reading a favorite novel like visiting dear old friends?  And just what is it about those Highland men?  Who are YOUR favorite Highland heroes? 

Visit the February Contest Page at http://www.teresamedeiros.com for a chance to win an autographed hardcover set of AFTER MIDNIGHT and THE VAMPIRE WHO LOVED ME!  Tune in to Squawk next Monday when Teresa will be discussing THIEF OF HEARTS, bodyguards, pirates and other favorite fantasies!

A lot of you know (if you’ve read my bio or heard me speak) that before I was published I spent ten years writing and not-writing and making excuses and writing badly and very slowly and not-writing some more and whining and writing for six years on a really awful, long, dreadful historical set in Guatemala, then on a short contemporary, then on another historical set in Medieval England, then on another contemporary … then all of a sudden, the historical set in Medieval England sold and I was a published author.

And you’re thinking, Christina, how could it be all-of-a-sudden when you’d been working toward that goal (sporadically, badly, but still working) for ten years?

It’s easy. One minute I’m writing on my fourth book because by now I’m convinced I’ve died and gone to unpubbed hell, and the next the phone rings (on Friday, February 2, 1990 at 3:30pm) and I’ve sold a book.

That book was CANDLE IN THE WINDOW.

The first print run (the number of books printed to be sent out to the market) was 25,000 — a really, really low number.

The advance was $5,000 — also a really, really low number, especially if we figure a 40-hour week x 52 weeks a year x 10 years = 20,800 hours. We then divide that by $5,000 and realize that my salary for that ten years, I made a whopping 24 cents an hour.

Do I have a point (other than to make you giggle)?

Why, yes. Yes, I do.

This month, after almost sixteen years of being in print, a Golden Heart award, a RITA award, a Romantic Times award, and its third, brand-new cover, CANDLE IN THE WINDOW has been re-released with a print run of 60,000. CANDLE IN THE WINDOW been reprinted so often, I have no idea how many copies are in print, but I estimate close to 300,000. I’ve earned out my advance. J Best of all, I still get mail from fans who have been touched by CANDLE IN THE WINDOW. http://christinadodd.com/excerpt.php?excerptid=1

I know it’s corny, but it’s the New Year, so I get to be sincere — if you want to do something badly enough — to write, to lose weight, to get a degree — then do it. If it’s too hard, quit. If you fail, take off some time to mourn or, better yet, whine. Then come back and do it again. The Japanese say it very well — “Fall down seven times; stand up eight times.”

One of the most important realizations of my adult life has been the importance of lingerie.  In reality, I’m not talking about lingerie (which brings up images of wispy French bits of silk)—but foundation garments.  I figured this out sometime in my thirties; I regret to say that I spent my twenties running around braless a lot of the time.  The truth is that pre-babies, bralessness was not a matter for titillation; no one ever knew.  But the world and its sorrows appeared (a fancy way of gesturing toward breastfeeding babies), and—well—foundation garments made their way into my life.  I’ve loved them every since and found it utterly fascinating how much better a good bra (or its longer cousins) can make a woman look—and how terrible a bad garment is.  As the years tramped on, I’ve been equally happy to learn what a good piece of lycra can do now and then.  On the other hand, I’ve noticed that a lot of women aren’t wearing a bit of lycra here and there—some people are stalking about looking as comfortable as if they were encased in stiff plastic from head to toe!  Though I will undoubtedly get in trouble for this, I shall boldly report that there was one RWA a few years ago when a Squawker declined to go to the bathroom as it was too much trouble dealing with her undergarments!  (And let me tell you, she didn’t need whatever it was she was wearing.)

So at some point I turned my new interest into a foundational theme (heh heh) in PLEASURE FOR PLEASURE.  As you know, my heroine Josie thinks she’s too plump.  She’s rather obsessed with being the same size as her sister Imogen.  So imagine her happiness when a French modiste crams her into a corset that gives her approximately Imogen’s measurements.  Of course, it creaks a little.  And it’s hard to sit down.  And it’s… well, here’s a couple of examples of what I was thinking of (I found a description of this corset in a Regency clothing book but alas, no picture):

Can you see the writing on the wall—in other words, why Josie gets labeled The SCOTTISH SAUSAGE on the marriage market?  Of course she does!  She looks and feels like a padded sausage.  Now if only she could have put on a La Perla bra:

To me, these are the epitomy of luxury and bliss.  Of course, I’m lucky enough to go to Florence in the summers—and La Perla runs an outlet on the outskirts of Florence.  But they are worth every penny.  I found a gorgeous picture here, but the plain foundational ones are wonderful too.

I don’t want you to think that I have the whole undergarment thing sorted!  Last summer I was in Florence and I simply could not find any of those little bra cups that stick inside a dress that doesn’t have a back—this was for the RWA awards ceremony and my new back-less dress.  So Elizabeth brought me a couple of different varieties.  Well, I was explaining this to Susan Elizabeth Phillips and actually pulled my neckline aside to show the cleverness of it all (and NO, I hadn’t even had one glass of wine!) and she said, “And my husband really enjoyed that lesson too, Eloisa!” EEEEeeeek!  Who expects a MAN at the RWA?  I hadn’t even noticed him standing next to us!

So let’s share some foundational war stories here.  What’s your latest discovery in lycra and lace?  Did you ever make yourself into a sausage like poor Josie?  Or an exhibitionist like poor me at the RWA?

A quiz for you.

When I get a letter from a reader who says she won’t read the Lost Princesses series because the whole idea is too fairy tale and childish, I say,
a) Everyone has their right to their own opinion, and I certainly respect yours
b) But I thought that’s what romance was about — the struggle between good and evil, a conflict that defines loves, and an ending that says HAPPILY EVER AFTER
c) Don’t tell me … you didn’t watch Chuck and Di’s wedding????
d) Stop buying my books. Now.

I was kidding! Stop answering my quiz! I know what you think I want to say, and you’re probably right.

But truthfully, I don’t understand. A prince has duties and obligations that sets him apart from the general population, but you know beneath all those formalities, he’s a man seething with passion.

And a princess … she wants true love, yet she’s required to marry a man who is chosen for her for political reasons.

There are so many restrictions on royalty, so many rules and so many responsibilities, that sets nobility apart from normal life. They have to do anything, make any sacrifice, perform any deed, no matter how dangerous or nefarious, for the good of their country and their people.

Oh, and let’s not forget the fact princes and princesses wear great clothes and own world-class jewels. Not that I’m shallow, but I’m all about world-class jewels.

In THE PRINCE KIDNAPS A BRIDE, Prince Rainger disguises himself from Princess Sorcha, his betrothed, and does everything in his power — lies, cheats, steals — to make sure that she marries him. He has a noble goal — he wants to save his country. Yet everything he does is guaranteed to make Sorcha hate him. He’s Prince Charming and the villain all wrapped up into one.

This is the stuff of great romance — or at least, I think so.

So what do you think? Do you buy into the fairy tale, or do you think it’s childish? Is this the stuff of great romance, or just silly?

Say what you really feel. I am incredibly curious. And, of course, I am a saint.

I am so!!!
Christina’s Website with THE PRINCE KIDNAPS A BRIDE video!

My family and I went to DisneyWorld for Thanksgiving, landed in Seattle Monday night at 9:30pm, and ... I don’t know if you heard about the situation in Seattle with the snow storm ... anyway, long story short, Scott and I didn’t get home until yesterday afternoon, and getting home involved walking up our hill because, gee, we hadn’t put the chains in before we left. And may I say, while I’m always interested in sixteen inches, walking uphill in sixteen inches of snow in tennis shoes carrying my briefcase in record cold is less exciting than you miight think. Or more, I’m not sure. The view is from my deck, and the dogs are mine and too cute while they play in the snow!

Ritter is the big blond doofus (but very sweet).

Lizzie is the snappy, bitchy brunette who keeps Ritter in line. It’s a tough job, but she figures someone has to do it since neither Scott and I will chase Ritter around and bite at his legs.

The point of this story is—I can’t get out to the bookstores to buy the other December releases (I think there’s another Squawker who has a book out ... what’s her name? Elaine? Eleanor? ELOISA JAMES! That’s it!) or sign books, and I’m desperately curious. Have you seen (and please bought) THE PRINCE KIDNAPS A BRIDE and that other book ... what’s it called? DESIRE FOR DESIRE? SATISFACTION FOR GRATIFICATION? PLEASURE FOR PLEASURE!? Where? How many copies? Where do you live? Tell all!

Read an excerpt of THE PRINCE KIDNAPS A BRIDE on Christina’s website!

I don’t mean that I like to torture men, or that I enjoy it when men are tortured.

Not really.

Not much.

Well, kinda.

Because, let’s face it, a little torture makes a man angry. Vindictive. Determined. Strong. Intelligent. A survivor. In other words, it makes him wounded, and darlings, there is nothing any woman loves as much as a wounded man. As Debbie Macomber said to me one time about the Phantom of the Opera — “He should have come to me. I would have cured him.”

Yeah, baby.

Remember THE COUNT OF MONTE CRISTO? No, not that unromantic novel by that guy (with the emphasis on guy) Victor Hugo. I’m talking about the movie with James Caviezel. The main character is an honorable man who gets involved in a scheme … oh, who cares? All I know is he gets thrown into a dungeon for twelve years, is beaten annually, is starved, descends into the depths of despair. He finally manages to escape, find a cache of gold, remake himself as the Count of Monte Cristo and return to avenge himself on his best friend who unjustly sent him to prison, and his former lover, who married said treacherous friend. But little does he know that the reason his former lover married the man who betrayed him is because … well, you really ought to get the movie, but if you’ve read one single Harlequin Presents, you’ll see the twist coming a mile away. Suffice it to say, his former lover has believed he was dead and she has suffered all these years — suffered, suffered, suffered — and with her eternal love, she heals his wounded soul.

Because that’s what women want. We all want to take a guy who’s been tortured and heal his wounded soul.

How about JR Ward’s LOVER AWAKENED, about vampire warrior Zsadist, kept as a sex slave for a hundred years?

Remember Jamie from OUTLANDER, a man in love with a female time-traveler, a man tortured, but never broken?

And Laura Kinsale’s FLOWERS FROM THE STORM, set in Regency England, with the brilliant, rake hero who suffers a stroke which leaves him unable to speak, and is committed to an insane asylum where he’s beaten by brutal guards and rescued by a Quaker woman … man, was that great stuff. I suffered along with Christian. I walked in Maddy’s shoes as she fought good guys and bad guys for his soul. I adored that book so much that when Rhapsody Book Club re-released it in hardcover as a classic romance, they asked me to write the foreword.

Why am I talking about tortured heroes during the week THE PRINCE KIDNAPS A BRIDE comes out? Well, you remember Prince Rainger in SOME ENCHANTED EVENING? Remember him in THE BAREFOOT PRINCESS? Remember the guy Crown Princes Sorcha was betrothed to in the cradle? The guy who, it is rumored, is dead?

Guess what? He isn’t dead, but he might as well be, for he spent eight years in the deepest darkest dungeon and emerged furious. Wounded. Strong. Wily. Willing to do anything — steal, cheat, kill, to get his revenge on the tyrant who murdered his father, tortured him, destroyed his friends, and stole his kingdom. Prince Rainger will even disguise himself, lie about his identity and seduce Sorcha in pursuit of his goal.

Sorcha is not amused.

THE PRINCE KIDNAPS A BRIDE, on the shelves now!

I’m always looking for recommendations, so tell me—who are your fav tortured heroes? And why? And more important—why why why do we love these tortured guys?

I know there are lots of you out there dying for Christina’s and my books (mostly because you’ve been kind enough to tell us!).  For both of us, it’s the last in a series:  the book that wraps it all up, the book that closes the cover on a whole world, a set of dearly beloved characters, a complicated yarn of love and (for both of us) a group of sisters.  SISTERS!  What is it about sisters?

I think I can tell you without wrecking too much of the plot that my heroine Josie’s sisters are crucial to her happiness in this book.  At the same time, they are innocently responsible for some of her heartbreak.

By this point (the fourth book) all three of Josie’s elder sisters are married—and happily.  Plus, they’re married to titled, rich, wonderful, sensitive men who were given all of my (considerable) attention and love.  How’s that for intimidating?  All she has to do is look at her brothers-in-law and poor Josie instantly feels a qualm of anxiety.  Add that to the fact that her sisters are really gorgeous, each in different ways, and poor Josie has an instant tension headache.  Now consider the fact that Josie is convinced she’s plump...and what do we get?

A major inferiority complex in the face of sisterhood, that’s what.  From Josie’s point-of-view, how is a plump, romance-reading girl who’s afraid of horses and riding ever going to find a man on the level of those her sisters have scooped up?

Behind every story there has to be a grain of truth.  Behind Josie’s story, there’s quite a bit.  I was going to paste a picture of myself as an adolescent here, but I looked at them and changed my mind.  Take it from me:  I was plump in high school.  Plump and miserable.  That would be bad enough, but my sister…

She had blonde straight hair.  She ran on the cross country team, when she wasn’t being Valdictorian and winning a National Merit scholarship.  She was invited to the prom when she was a sophomore.  I was a junior that year and stayed home; she went.  A major truth about sisters is that you can love your sister dearly and still feel a wincing heart-ache, a stab-to-the-belly of jealousy, whenever you think about her.  I should add that there was nothing Evil Stepsister-ish about my sister.  She supported me; dieted with me (though she didn’t need to); and generally watched my back—well, there was one time when she told me that pickle juice “ate” calories, and I believe her, but every sibling relationship has moments. *g*

It’s hard to finish off a long series.  I don’t know about Christina, but for me this was the hardest book of all.  I knew that many people had already fallen in love with Josie, with her wise-cracking, funny voice and her weight problems, and her rash impulse to do with various medicines created for horses (remember what happened to Crogan in Taming of the Duke?

I wanted this to be a book in which Josie’s sisters were there for her, loving her, supporting her—and driving her crazy.  I wanted her to not to lose weight or magically turn slender, but to come into an understanding of how sexy her body was, just as it was.  I went off to college, got taller, discovered exercise, and turned thin in my sophomore year.  But the people I love best from my college years?  My two best female friends, with whom I bonded as freshmen, and my first college boyfriend, who asked me out the first month of college.  When I was a curvy freshmen who had no understanding of how sexy she could be.  He and I stayed together ten years, and he’s now godfather to both my children. 

I wanted Josie to come to the realization I did:  that there are lots of people in this world smart enough to ignore the rules that culture hands out, dictating who is attractive and who isn’t.  There are lots of people out there who understand that women’s curves can be an utterly intoxicating and delicious aspect of her femininity.

I’m curious about your sister or sisters.  Did they drive you crazy, the way mine did?  Did you fight and squabble?  Did a sister ever make you drink a whole jar of pickle juice?  And finally...do you live 5 minutes down the road from your sister now, the way I am luckily enough to do?