Happy Birthday, Missie!

My bestest friend, Missie, is another year older! Of course, since I'm so much nicer than she is, I won't tell you older than what. I wanted to bake a cake for the occasion, though money is tight. Hmmm...



Okay, I guess bargain shelf Thanksgiving pumpkin cakes with questionable stems are a little crass. Maybe this...



Well, the dead circus clowns on a moldy hill didn't quite have the festive atmosphere I wanted. Let me keep looking...



Naked babies riding carrots! That's the ticket! No? Oh, well. I can always fall back on the old standard that never fails to please-



Old Beefcake.

Happy day, my friend. Enjoy!

(cake images from CakeWrecks)

In Which I Refuse To Talk About Elections And Instead Gush Over Weird But Hot Guys

I'm probably the only woman in the world who doesn't think Brad Pitt is all that. He looks better post-Troy, and he's aging well, but he's just too...pretty.

Oddly enough, my boat tends to get floated by guys like this:

Christopher Eccleston. He's known for being the Doctor Who in Leather, but I loved him in Elizabeth. Nothing he has should work, but it does.

I don't really watch Doctor Who that much anymore, I swear! But I adore David Tennant. With a serene, serious face, he's an absolute matinee idol movie star. But when he smiles his chin draws up, his eyes bug out, and his eyebrows attach to his hairline. So cute I could eat him with a spoon.

Nice guys do finish first. At least, this one does with me. Special Agent McGee from NCIS (Sean Murray) is so normal and so nice and so geeky he shouldn't be this yummy. But he's also smart, loyal, and honorable. A hero in my book.

But my plugs really get sparked by competence. Jean Reno was great in Ronin and The Professional, but I got all swoony over his super secret service soldier in Godzilla. He just flat got the job done, you know? He could save me from a mutated iguana ANYTIME.

What about you? Any non-traditionally gifted guys you'd want on your romance cover?

In Which I Lay A Big Smooch On Alan Rickman

Cute Guy Wednesday features a somewhat unorthodox hottie...



Was there anyone who wasn't fascinated by Die Hard's Hans Gruber, the ultimate suave villain? I loved it when Bonnie Bedelia said, "After all your posturing, all your speeches, you're nothing but a common thief."


"I am an exceptional thief, Mrs. McClane. And since I'm moving up to kidnapping, you should be more polite. "






Even when the rest of the movie sucked- and Robin Hood, Prince of Thieves did- he shined. The Sheriff of Nottingham was Snidely Whiplash on acid, but his over-the-top antics still made beautiful sense. It was also a joy to watch.


"That's it then. Cancel the kitchen scraps for lepers and orphans, no more merciful beheadings, and call off Christmas."


[to a wench] You. My room. 10:30 tonight. [to another wench] You. 10:45... And bring a friend.

Of course, he wasn't always a villain. I don't know many women who didn't absolutely swoon when Col. Brandon carried Marianne home, and waited outside her sickroom door in Sense and Sensibility.

"What can I do?"


"Colonel Brandon, you have done so much already..."


"Give me an occupation, Miss Dashwood, or I shall run mad."





Any man who could make me feel for Severus Snape while still despising him has got Mad Skillz.















By Grabthar's hammer...

I love that man.

Romance’s Favorite Man

He does have a last name, but he doesn’t need it. When I think romance covers, I think of him.

Fabio.

He could be anything. A pirate;

A cowboy;

An Indian;

An alien.

He could be a migrant apple picker;

Stealer of Santa’s boots;

Barbie's Fantasy that Ken doesn't know about.

You could land a plane on his shiny, hairless chest-

But you couldn’t make him shave his legs.

And when you thought he had done it all, he made a generation of people beleef it was nah buttah.

But the thing I like most about Fabio- even though his cover days are long since over, he always takes the work, and the fans, seriously. But not himself. And he would have kicked total tool George Clooney’s behiney when the Sexy But Self-Important One insulted the ladies El Fab was lunching with.

There are good covers, and bad covers, and meh covers on the romance shelves. But there’s only one Fabio, and I’m not too proud to admit that I miss him.

Fabio would undoubtedly approve of my contest. Four more days- winner announced on Monday, June 2. Get your entries in!

I Totally Made Up A Word and Cute Guy Friday

BLOGPLAIN vb. blogplained; blogplaining : to express grief, pain, or discontent on one’s blog. Similar to complaining, but whinier.

That’s my word. You can use it, though. Just pay me a penny every time you do.

I tend to blogplain a lot. In fact, Blogsylvania seems to be one big therapy session, don’t it? From righteous indignation to primal anger to general pissyness, it’s an ugly world sometimes. So today, I’m going to do something happy. Hugh Jackman is advertising my contest!

Nope. Nothing to blogplain about here.

Alpha-Bits, Pt. 4: Hard Core!

Alphas, be they cops, corporate honchos, cowboys, or car mechanics, are all Tough. As. Nails. Not so much with the warm fuzzies. Not very understanding, or even, at times, forgiving. A friend of mine who was more Alpha than I have ever seen before or since once said, “Every criminal should be executed. The really bad ones should be tortured first.”

That unbending spine is both a source of frustration and a reason for admiration for our heroine. As difficult as it may be to live with Mr. Upright, it’s that sense of justice that makes him strong. Call it the Good-Kirk-Evil-Kirk Syndrome. Remember that episode of Star Trek? Evil Kirk was a bad man with poor impulse control, but he was the one who got things done. Good Kirk was compassionate and caring and suffered from crippling indecision.

Romance Alphas aren’t much different- they start out somewhat dark and dangerous, even if they’re firmly on the right side of the law. Helping them find the balance between Val Jean and Javert is the heroine’s flipping job in these books. But I beg, plead, and bribe with Triple Split Your Pants brownies if need be- quit wussifying my Alphas!

I’m perfectly okay with a hero who can blow the bad guy away and not suffer the agonies of the damned. I’m perfectly okay with a hero who can blow the bad guy away, period. Forgiveness and sweetness and warmth can be powerful, wonderful things; any Alpha is capable of them. And sometimes those things can require more strength than pulling a trigger.

But I want a good reason for his decision. Please, please, please don’t turn my ruthless, tough hero into some milksop who can’t take care of business simply because he’s now in luuuuurve. Let my caveman keep his club.

Alpha-Bits, Pt.3: MINE!

Perhaps my favored characteristic of the Alpha hero is his possessiveness. I'm not even going to think about what that says for my psyche. All I know is that I love the moment when the hero growls, "You're mine!"

Even before he's allowed himself to admit he loves the heroine, he just can't take the thought that any other man will be spending time with her. From Nora Roberts' historical Lawless:

She stepped closer to stab a finger at his chest. "If I allow Samuel to kiss my hand, that's my affair. He's asked me to marry him."

The last thing she expected was to be hauled off her feet so that her slippers dangled several inches from the ground. "What did you say?"

"I said he asked me to marry him. Put me down."

He gave her a shake that sent hairpins flying. "I warn you, Duchess, you think long and hard about marrying him, because the same day you're his wife, you're his widow. That's a promise."

I know, I know. In real life, I'd be calling the police and asking for restraining orders just like you. But in fiction, those scenes just sing through me.

Maybe it's the combined force of all those dates and boyfriends who made it known that I was their girlfriend, but if I wanted to go further than that? "I need space, man." And then they'd look at me as if I was a new and not very attractive form of fauna. "What the hell's wrong with you, anyway? Why do you women always have to get all weird?" Grrrr.

The Alpha may have issues with commitment at first, but once it's made he'll keep it to his pain. And do anything he can to make things right. Yes, I like possessive heroes. Sue me.

Alpha-Bits, Pt.2: Swagger!

Confidence or arrogance? There’s a fine line between a bold belief in oneself and being a pompous ass. Alphas are often accused of being tools, but I say the true Alpha skates the right side of that line.

For those who love Alphas, that absolute self-assurance is a prime part of the attraction. I want a hero who won’t dither with should-I-shouldn’t-I when it’s time for action. He’ll take time to plan, of course, but when it’s time to git ‘er done he’ll go in with guns blazing.

It isn’t that Alphas have no introspection. On the contrary, Alphas are well aware of their own flaws, and it kills them to admit it. They are, therefore, usually to be found doing a job in which they excel. But if they are faced with a situation they don’t have a skill set for, pure perseverance will get them to the top. Even Alphas who have gone to brood in their castles don’t quit.

All this confident competence makes for a boring hero then, right? Not hardly. Consider this hero from my favorite rainy Saturday read, Amanda Quick’s historical Ravished:

“Well, then, Miss Harriet Pomeroy?” There was an unmistakable challenge in the words.

“Well, what, my lord?” Harriet managed breathlessly. It was true she had virtually no experience of this sort of thing, but all her womanly instincts were assuring her that Gideon had been as powerfully affected by that kiss as she had been. She did not understand why he had suddenly gone all cold and dangerous.

“You have a decision to make. You may either take off your gown and lie down on the stone floor of this cave so that we can finish what we have started or you may run back toward the beach and safety. I suggest you make your choice quickly, as my own mood is somewhat unpredictable at the moment.”

Now he has just given her the Swoop and Grab kiss, but he’s giving her a choice. And shocking her with the suggestion of sex to scare her off, because he knows his reputation alone will destroy hers, even if they haven’t done anything. For me, a big part of the fun is seeing the firm, self-assured, big strapping man fall apart when faced with his feelings toward our heroine. Later in the book:

He had not been at all kind to Harriet. He had virtually coerced her into marriage, exhibited her to the ton as if she were an exotic pet, and put her in jeopardy at the hands of Bryce Morland.

In return she had given him her love, helped him restore his reputation, and made it possible for him to mend the breach with his parents.

No, he had not been particularly kind to Harriet. All she had ever really wanted from him was his love, and he had told her he could not give it. Six years ago I forgot everything I knew of love.

What an ass he had been.

He’s strong and confident and totally assured that he’s wrapped around her finger and delighted to admit it. That’s my Alpha.

Alpha-Bits

I just got through reading a very good story; good characters, believable situations, good plot, but- it fell just a little bit flat. I’m trying to understand why, and I think for me a romance really does stand or fall on the hero.

I love a good heroine. Feisty or shy, kickazz or quiet, tough or tender, I like her. But even if she’s an irritating, annoying bint or a stoopid, wilting waif, I can take her if the hero works. Even if I can’t quite figure out why he digs her.

I have also read many books that had contrived plots and overwrought prose and prime entries in the Oh Yeah, That’s Believable Awards. If the hero works, I’ve been known to overlook things because I am apparently just that shallow.

But a book can have an amazing heroine and a fantastic plot and great writing and I will never pick it up again if it doesn’t give me a hero I fall in love with.

According to my keeper shelf, the men I favor most? Cavemen in an Italian suit. Or a uniform. Or a kilt. Or hip waiters.

Anyone who has ever read my blog, former or present, knows I love Alpha heroes. The more hairy the chest, the better, metaphorically speaking. I wonder what Alpha males spark in me? They’re large and in charge, but ultimately so helpless when they try to understand this woman who won’t stay where she’s put. Fun times.

I’ll be exploring the Mighty Alpha the next few posts, and I’d like to hear from you, too, on what makes a great hero. Join in!

Mad Men

So a few nights ago I was watching Marnie. I love Hitchcock, and though Marnie isn’t one of my favorites I adore Sean Connery. There’s a scene where he has found out that the woman he loves has been lying to him and robbing him blind, and he goes tearing off to find her. When he does, he’s so mad he can’t see straight. My reaction?

ZING!!!!!

That’s the burning question I just can’t answer: Why do ticked off heroes turn me on? When men are mad in real life, I hide unless I think I can take them. But in fiction, film or page? Aitch Ay Double-yew Tee. HAWT.

I don’t enjoy scolds or lectures. I certainly don’t want to see spanking or ‘taming.’ And I don’t get the Punishing Kiss. I’ve made my husband mad. Veins throbbing in the forehead mad. In those moments, I can assure you he hasn’t wanted to kiss me.

Maybe it’s the thought that anger will break down some walls, make the hero finally take action. It might be that it proves he cares. Or maybe it’s the totally shallow notion that, at least in fiction, a man who lets a woman get away with anything isn’t quite a man.

Or maybe it was just Sean Connery.

Romance Endures and Cute Guy Wednesday

Kimber An has honored me with an invitation to join her review site, Enduring Romance. I'll be posting every third Sunday, beginning April 20 with GLORY GIRLS by Linda Bleser. This is going to be so fun, though I'll have to behave myself and tone down the snark a little.

And to thank her for her thoughtfulness, I present Kimber An's Cute Guy Wednesday: Liam Neeson.

A Bunch of Thoughts Not Remotely Related

Eastern Promises is an amazing film. Very intense, but a little unnecessarily graphic in places. It isn't easy to watch, but it's fascinating. It's all about human trafficking in London, by the Russian mob. These poor girls come to England, thinking they'll have a better life, and get sold into slavery in mob-owned brothels.

The thing that really interested me was how the Russian mobsters have their life, and their history, told on their bodies through tattoos. It is a language all its own; many have religious symbology but of course have nothing to do with religion. A huge cross means you're a thief in good standing. A church with three spires means you've done three prison terms. If you have no tattoos, you're invisible. No other criminal will trust you, because they can't see your life story.

Of course, he's in it, which is good enough for me.

I have decided to just keep writing my Regency because I love it and I'm having fun and I don't care who knows it. If the traditional Regency is dead, and I never sell this thing, at least I had a darn good time.

And since Jane Austen is still making movie producers tons of money, I refuse to believe the Regency won't rise again. Not that I'm comparing myself to Jane, but you get the idea.

My blog friend December is having releases all over the freaking place! Can't wait for Personal Demons- sounds like such great fun. And she's having Zombie Week over at her place, so DQ- here's my tribute:

Grumpy Dogs, Pervy Middle Aged Women and Cute Guy Thursday

I have kind of an interesting new job- I do temp work (which leaves me more time for motherhood, wifehood, and writerhood) for several companies that pay me to shop. There are also a couple that pay me to audit; for example, to go to a site and take photos of a business so the investment companies that own them can see the condition of the building, make sure they have fire extinguishers, etc. I had a DOOZY the other day.

I had to take pictures of a hat place. Cowboy hats, in particular. Now, I am a hick. I was raised redneck. I currently reside in Oklahoma, but it is amazing how little of the cowboy hat-wearing, sh*t kicking boot-stomping, Reba MacIntire unintelligible drawl I run into. It is absolutely another world.

I went into this little hattery, took photos of the sales floor and exit signs, then asked to go into the back room. A very nice lady told me, "There's a dog back there. He may nip at your pants leg; just walk like you know what you're doing." I went in and heard a growl. I looked down, and there's a fat furry sausage as high as my knee. And yes, he nipped at my pants leg. Several people are calling, "Tuffy! Sit down! Tuffy! Get back!" which had no effect whatsoever. This dog followed me around the entire time, his nose buried in my pants, growling and taking the occasional nibble. His owners kept admonishing him, as Tuffy proceded to do whatever the heck Tuffy wanted to do.

To be fair, he didn't bite me; I am used to dogs of all kinds and I wasn't scared. But I think next time I'll ask for danger pay.

I usually don't go for young pretty boy actors; grizzled older men are more my speed. Mooning over twentysomethings makes me feel pervy. In this case, though, I'll make an exception. From All My Children, Aiden Turner.

Now he can definitely take a bite.

A Bad Weekend Calls for Cute Guy Monday

I need something to make me feel better, y'all. I'm not feeling terribly charitable with the human race right now.

I'm probably depressed because I went to a funeral on Saturday. In point of fact, sang at the funeral Saturday. And worked like a dog (with hubs and kids) the previous Wednesday to get tables and chairs and stuff set up at the church for the luncheon that would be served after the funeral. (Question- why do we always have to have the big food thing after a funeral? I'd rather go home, put on my jammies and a good movie, and order a pizza, cold unfeeling witch that I am.)

The person who died was a member of our church, a beautiful 14 year old girl. Jamie was a fabulous kid; she was on her bike when she was hit by a car. She technically died at the scene, but was kept alive on machines for a few days before her parents decided to let her go. The service for her was INSANE. There had to have been 300 people there. Every kid from her school was there, all deciding to wander around the funeal home sanctuary finding friends they must. go. hug. right. now. The people on the platform tried to conduct the service, which was hampered by both parents needing to step out for a quick smoke, a couple of family members with coffee cups in which to spit the juice from the huge wads of chewing tobacco wedged in their cheeks, and random friends who crossed right in front of the casket because they just had to say a word to the family, who were trying to listen to the eulogy. Some semblance of order came when I sang; I think it's just because music gets your attention. I am also a loudmouth, which helps.

I worked harder at the luncheon than I ever have in restaurants. So did our 4 elderly ladies who cooked all morning; we are a small church, with a small kitchen, and we fed around 90 people. They were very grateful, but GEEZ. They piled their plates, taking so much the first trip that we had to cut them off at two scoops of potatoes please, and let their kids run all over the church depositing all manner of trash in every room. Of course the church is there for people; serving is what we do, but good grief. Were they all born in a barn?

I'd do it again, though. Jamie's father got us all together afterward to thank us. He's not a rich man by any standard, and had no idea how he would provide a service or burial for Jamie. Fortunately, the church was able to put him in touch with people who would help, and of course we provided the luncheon. He is a man of few words; one who was raised with the 'men don't cry' machismo like most men his age. He stood in front of us and said, "None of this would have happened without you. I didn't know how I could do anything for Jamie, but thanks to you my baby was buried like a princess."

And, yeah. Made everything totally worth it.

Jamie would have absolutely approved of how I cheer myself up after just about anything life slams me with- looking at cute guys with unpronounceable names. From E.R. and Elektra, Goran Visnjic.

Every New Year Deserves Blondes

I'm Baaaack.

I couldn't stay away from blogging for very long- it's like crack with a keyboard. For those who may remember my former blog, Snarkling Clean, this one probably won't be very different because the only reason for me to blog is so I can gripe and talk about books and write run-on sentences about nothing and then reward you for your hard work by posting pictures of random cute guys.

So I don't intrude on your goodwill any further, let's get right to the important stuff: BLONDES. Which is not normal for me; I tend to like heroes dark. But every once in awhile, I'll come across one that will make my Adolescent Crushes on Actors Gene stand up and sing hallelujah. To wit:

Remember this guy? Rutger Hauer in Ladyhawke. He usually plays villains, but he was such a great hero here. I'll never forget the scene where he was turning back into a man from his wolf form, and his cursed lover Michelle Pfeiffer was turning into the hawk- they caught just a glimpse of each other as humans. His howl of rage and frustration made me cry.

Here's another blonde that usually does a star turn as a bad guy, but I first saw Sean Bean as hero Captain Sharpe of Sharpe's Rifles. I also personally think Boromir of Lord of the Rings was a hero; he was just tempted for a little while.

He's more gray than blonde now, and that famous mullet is gone, but I still adore Richard Dean Anderson. MacGyver has always been one of my favorite heroes- who else could rescue the girl and save the world with tube socks, duct tape, and a Swiss Army Knife?

Viggo Mortensen. I don't really need to say anything else, do I?

At first, I was kind of hacked off. A blond James Bond? No way. No freaking way.

But, for some reason, Daniel Craig kind of grew on me. Go figure.

More random rambling and romance reviews and cute guys to come. I missed you!