First Review of The Glassblower

Dina Sleiman writes:

I must admit, I wasn’t sure what I would think of a Heartsong Presents novel. It takes a lot of skill to fit all the elements of a strong story into such a short format, but Laurie Alice meets the task and then some.

Read the rest at:

http://awesomeinspirationals.blogspot.com/2009/12/glassblower-by-laurie-alice-eakes.html

What I learned of Faith from Deep Space Nine

I am the guest blogger.
http://www.inkwellinspirations.blogspot.com

Seeking Edna

Ms. Edna, I need you to contact me and resend me your address. I owe you a copy of The Glassblower, and your address isn't in my database, though I know it should be.

Five Weeks and Counting

If I am scarce here, it's because I am on a deadline in writing a novel that is going waaaaaay too slowly. I don't know why, but it's just not there in my head despite my outline and plans and flashes of vivid, sun-splashed scenes along the Jersey shore, with ladies in fluttery dresses instead of bathing suits, since this is 1899, not 2009.

And I'm guest blogging a lot this month. I'll keep you posted on all of the above. First guest blog post for December is:

www.inkwellinspirations.blogspot.com

Where I am talking about...

Well, come back wednesday and I'll tell you, or go straight to the Inkwell. You'll enjoy that blog. Lots of lively and insiteful ladies there.

Thanksgiving

Today, I was going to write a lovely post on my thankfulness. This has been an insane year and I think mostly I'm just thankful to have a home and work and some stability. But now I'll save the year stuff for New Year's. Right now, I just want to sleep. Thus far, I've been away from my computer either baking or out to some people's hosue for dinner, or just hangin gout with hubby listening to XM, where we stumbled on an interview with Arlo Guthrie. LOL. A rather different version of Alice's Restaurant and the story behind it.

Anyway, hubby is on the phone with his family, so I'm taking a few minutes to post and say hello.

Also, I am a bit behind on everything due to a terribler allergic reaction to. . .something. Clueless what. I didn't eat anything strange. Maybe a bug bite. I have never experienced swelling and itching that extensive that it hurt like my hands and the soles of my feet. Lots of Benedril later, I'm doing all right, though starting to feel the need of another dose. None all day so I wasn't woozy at dinner.

Anyway, more later.

After All that Whining

My author copies came today. It will take a week or so for me to get them into the mail with the holiday and all.

But they are here with my cat sitting atop the box asking me to open it. I wont' so it doesn't get full of cat hair. But she loves boxes.

Books

I love them. The smell, the texture, the words on the pages.

And I'm whiny because mine still haven't gotten to me.

My agent got hers last Thursday. I'm just sure they'll come when I'm not home.

And I have so many to mail to people. Readers, I haven't forgotten you. If I promised you a book, you'll get it.

Someday.

In Memory of Patricia Veryan

Many of you know how I love Patricia Veryan books. Though she is secular, her Georgian and Regency romances are amongst some of the best books in the historical romance genre. They were squeaky clean, full of dangerous men and adventurous women, and full of swashbuckling fun, suspense, and angst. In one of her series, she developed a character through the first five books until he had gone from villain to hero. It was amazingly well done. She wrote books I reread again and again.

In her personal life, she married an American military man at the end of World War II and didn’t get her first book published until she was something like sixty-two. That was around 1980, so she lived a very long life.

She stopped writing a few years ago when her daughter died of cancer, but her books will live on forever.

When I am asked in interviews what authors influence my writing, Veryan is pretty much always mentioned. I was considering dedicating Once Widowed, Twice Shy, my May 2011 Regency from Revell, to her. I think now it’s a must.

Cover for The Glassblower

This is for my upcoming release.

Kissing

Yes, I confess it. I like kissing. Something about the connection of lips sets my little heart to pitterpattering.

So I love the scene of kissing in a book. that first kiss is so important I don't want it wasted or squandered or too soon. No, I want the hero and heroine to build up to that point. If it's too soon, the hero and heroine aren't ready for it. their And that first kiss to express affection and love is a moment of sweetness not to be wasted.

Following is the first kiss from my upcoming release, The Glassblower. Read and enjoy and then share a favorite first kiss. Please make sure that you have the copyright to anything you post. Posting one from someone else's work is a violation of copyright. Feel free, however, to mention the work inw hich your favorite first kiss resides.

Colin’s chest rose and fell in a silent sigh. “You should go back inside before you catch a chill.” He brushed snow from her hair then let his fingertips linger against her cheek.

She didn’t move. She feared even a breath would dislodge his hand from her face, would send her skittering across the snowy grass in an opposite direction to his. If she remained motionless, the moment would last as long as she wanted it to. There in the night, a gauzy curtain of snow sheltered them from the music and laughter in the house, where half a hundred people celebrated someone else’s wedding.

“I can’t go in there.” Meg clasped his hand against her face. “I can’t go back there and pretend I’m happy. I want to stay out here with you, where I don’t have to pretend.”

“Aye, lass, the pretending lies in thinking we don’t have to say good-bye.” He curved his other hand beneath her chin. “Or that I have a right to this.”
He touched his lips to hers. His kiss was warm and gentle and far too brief. Before her heart remembered to beat, before she thought to respond, he drew his hands away from her face, turned his back on her, and vanished behind the swirling mantle of snow.