Tag Archive for: romance

Laura Spinella

SIGNS OF THE SEASON

Every season has its cues. Not necessarily the weather ones, though when you live in the Northeast they’re hard to ignore. Just when we’ve acclimated to leaves on trees and short-wearing weather, things start to change. Yesterday, in barely mid-August, I saw a maple tree with a tint of red while an evening chill had me digging in a drawer for sweatpants. The North, maybe New England in particular, also comes with strong sporting cues. It’s definitely a sign of the season when the Fenway Faithful prepare to make way for a rush of fall football, due to arrive in full Patriots gear. In the North, we also like to combine history with sports, mixing it into metaphors whenever possible.

Without a doubt, school is the big signal that the times they are a changin’. The South is known for its wicked early starts. My sister, who teaches first grade, has been back to class for a week. I suppose it evens out, as she’s sipping wine coolers poolside before Memorial Day weekend. But being Northern bred, I’ve never been able to adapt to the notion. It’s not unlike the like the holidays. I love the South, I truly do, but palm trees will never inspire me to break out the mistletoe or even the first verse of White Christmas—though I believe that’s in reference to the L.A. variety, but you get the idea. Regular school doesn’t start here for a few weeks, but yesterday I sent a kid packing back to college. She, of course, attends a Southern university. Having her around for another week or two would have been okay with me, though she did remark that good writing was just around the corner. “You know, Mom, you always do your best writing after Labor Day.”

I thought about that for a while, and I think she’s right. Early fall brings lots of inspiration; maybe it’s the chill in the air or a guaranteed rainy day each week. I drag in the summer, never really craving that umbilical cord attachment to a laptop that I do during other times of the year. So I suppose I’ll be reading the signs before long, revving up for lots of cool weather writing. However, it’s not completely without distractions. My Sox are looking pretty hot, which could mean being waylaid by a World Series. An incredible sacrifice, but one I’d happily make. And, oh, there is the aftermath of the kid who left the building, though she certainly had no qualms about leaving her mess behind. Real writing will be delayed as I transform her bedroom into something habitable, spending at least half a day finding the floor. Over the summer, she’d gotten into a habit of lying on her bed with her feet pressed to the wall. The day before she left, I asked if she planned on cleaning the footprints that marked her presence. I got the cursory shrug and a rolling of eyes. Not long after she and her father headed south, car packed to gills, I poked my head inside her room. I still couldn’t find the floor. Adding insult to injury, her brother decided to drag his mattress in and have a sleepover the night before. A pile of clothes and pocketbooks, things she deemed too last year to make the trip were everywhere. But taped to the wall, right by the footprints, was a scrap of paper. It read: JAMIE WAS HERE. See you on Turkey Day Jay, when the leaves are guaranteed to be gone and you might even be treated to a few flakes of snow. And who knows, by then I might have written something wonderful.

Black Cats, Voodoo Dolls & Friday the 13th Blogs

By Laura Spinella

**This blog was suppose to post earlier, but the Friday the 13th Blogger gremlins decided to add to my debut blog fun!! Enjoy!!

Today is my first day as a regular at The Stiletto Gang. I’ve known my post date for a while now; on my May calendar there’s a giant red circle around FRIDAY THE 13TH. Maybe the gang wanted me to have plenty of time to think about it. I’d like to tell you I’m not the superstitious type, but that would be a lie. And it’s probably best not to lie your first day on the blog. I’m sure the ominous date is a coincidence. In fact, I’m almost positive. But being more paranoid than superstitious, I can’t say I’m convinced. After all, stiletto wearing women convey a certain image, and it’s not like they try to hide their hooligan status. But since I’ve openly joined a gang, I shall take my solemn oath and any date-hazing in stride.

In an effort to counteract my inauspicious debut, and perhaps prove that I’m tougher than any calendar date, I did some checking into Friday the 13th. In numerology, 12 is considered the number of completeness. It defines the tribes of Israel, the apostles of Jesus and the gods of Olympus. It’s the hands on a clock completing a day. But number 13, a sad indivisible digit, is considered a sign of irregularity, violating the splendor of completeness. Hmm, maybe I do belong here… I digress. In any case, apparently all religions plus Greek mythology have a hang up with the number 13. Furthermore, the Stress Management Center and Phobia Institute (seriously, I’m not making this up) estimates that 21 million people are affected by Friday the 13th. That said, I suppose I’m in good company and my angst is not without merit.

My mother and husband celebrate their birthdays on the 13th. It doesn’t seem to bother them. On the other hand, they are also the only two people I know who could sleep in a cemetery with a Ouija board tucked under their head and get a good night’s rest. Neither one is susceptible to rabbit’s foot ideologies or theories about broken ladders, black cats, and voodoo dolls. Being a writer, however, I succumb easily to these phobias. Frankly, I think it’s a genetic predisposition: the creative are prone to irrational fears.

Perhaps it’s best demonstrated by the obsessive compulsive traits of a writer, which can almost always be linked to superstition. For example, I’d never start a day’s work without hot tea served in my black UGA

(University of Georgia, which you’ll hear me squawk about a lot) mug. We own a dozen UGA mugs, but it has to be the black one with the fat rim. Well, the black one with the fat rim until the day I dropped it in the sink and cracked the bottom. I swear, my writing hasn’t been the same since. After the mug come the ever inspirational Red Sox pajama pants. (I’m region flexible, team specific) They’re so worn Good Will would be insulted, but I’m convinced there’s a direct link between uninspired writing and pajama pants in the wash. I’m also computer specific and superstitious. My laptop is dedicated to book writing while the desktop is for freelance work and rewriting my children’s essays, book reports, etc. It’s an untidy place, littered with coffee stained papers and dust. Recently, we had a shift in activity at our house and I was banished to the desktop computer. Three quarters through my new manuscript, this was not the time to upset my rituals or test superstition. At first, I bitched and panicked. I was sure three quarters of this book was written to the best of my genius—which might not be saying much—and the rest was doomed. I’m pleased to report that I’ve rounded the corner to the finish, amazed that the bulky HP had little effect on my writing. Granted, I am wearing the pajama pants, so I’m not completely without a vice. But I believe it was a good lesson, proving that superstition is, perhaps, just that. So here I am, delivering my Friday the 13th blog to The Stiletto Gang. I look forward to being a part of this fine group of women writers and my June 10 blog. It happens to be the same date that the Salem witch trials began. By all means, ladies, bring it on.

Modern Romance

by Susan McBride

Ah, February, the month of love! And not only because the 14th is Valentine’s Day–on which I’ll be talking about romantic reads on “Great Day St. Louis”–but Ed’s and my third anniversary is February 24. Seems like yesterday that we met though it was nearly six years ago. Funny how it happened, too. When I look back, I think of how many dominoes had to line up and fall before the moment we were introduced.

If I hadn’t been named a 2005 St. Louis Magazine “top single”…if Ed’s then co-worker, Jeremy, hadn’t been selected as well…if I hadn’t become friends with Jeremy at the photo shoot…if Ed hadn’t decided to show up at the magazine’s party at the Contemporary Art Museum…if I hadn’t been talking to Jeremy when Ed appeared…if he hadn’t contacted me through the magazine after I lost his card…if we hadn’t enjoyed each other’s company at a hockey game the next week…well, you get my drift.

I like to think that our grandmothers up in heaven plotted the whole thing. I can imagine mine saying, “For goodness’ sake, she’s over 40. If she doesn’t find someone soon, she’s going to be too danged independent to ever want to share her life with anyone but her cats.” And Ed’s grandma responding, “Well, he’s finally got his doctorate and has a job with a start-up company, but he needs to find someone who’s a bit pushy and who can convince him not to wear that dreadful Fred Flintstone T-shirt to work.”

Then there was the age factor, my being nine years older. Which didn’t really matter to me or to Ed (but I know it worried his mom in the beginning!). The most important concerns I had were these: could we communicate despite the fact that I’m Captain Kirk and he’s Spock; and is our sense of humor on the same plane, or maybe I should make that “planet”? Luckily, the answers were “yes” and “yes.”

I knew Ed was special very soon after we began dating. I’d never felt that “rightness” with anyone before. Never. I’d heard friends say, “You’ll know when you find him,” and I’d think, “But how?” It wasn’t long before I realized they were spot on. Within three months, I was sure Ed was The One. I knew it in my heart and in my gut. Indeed, it was on Valentine’s Day in 2006 that I decided I’d ask him point-blank if we were on the same page. I had to be certain we were going somewhere (and I don’t mean away for the weekend). Yep, I’d become very direct in my middle-age. I just couldn’t let myself go on believing “this is it,” if he wasn’t feeling it, too. When I told my mother what I’d done, basically giving Ed an ultimatum, she squawked, “Well, there goes that relationship! You probably just sent him running for the hills!”

But Ed showed up at my condo after work that night with a dozen red roses and said, “You are the one.”

We’ve been through a lot since (and before) our wedding, and I can’t imagine having lived even a minute of those days without Ed in my life. If anything, I love him more now than on the day we said, “I do.” I feel incredibly fortunate that all those dominoes fell into place at precisely the right moment. Chalk it up to fate or the Powers that Be or even two heavenly matchmaking grandmothers. Whoever’s responsible, thank you.

Anyone else want to share their tale of “How We Met?” I’d love to hear!
P.S. Welcome to Maria Geraci, the newest member of the Stiletto Gang! I recently read Maria’s latest, THE BOYFRIEND OF THE MONTH CLUB, and loved it. What a perfect Valentine’s Day book!

Soapbox Stilettos: The Reading Habits of Men vs. Women

The topic we picked to dish about this month on our Soapbox couldn’t come at a more timely moment. Not long after we selected it, Jonathan Franzen appeared on the cover of TIME Magazine, and Jennifer Weiner and Jodi Picoult spoke out on the unevenness of book reviews when it comes to fiction written by men vs. fiction written by women. So here’s the question we debated: why do you think (some) men are afraid to pick up books written by women? Especially novels labeled “chick lit,” “women’s fiction,” “cozy,” or “romance.” Why doesn’t it seem a problem for women to read books by male authors and female authors?

Maggie: There is this perception that anything labeled “women’s fiction,” “cozy,” or “chick lit” will only appeal to a very small segment of the population: women who like that “kind of thing.” Most of these books are about people and relationships, however, and some of your coziest of the cozies delve into some serious and gruesome stuff (see my second book, Extracurricular Activities, where the most deserving villains end up without their hands and feet). Men like escapist literature just as much as women, I believe. Honestly, though, what man is going to pick up a book that has a pair of high heels and a martini glass on the cover? I think the way many women writers are marketed contributes to the idea that only women can read those (OUR) books. I can’t think of a more female-centered book than Wally Lamb’s first, She’s Come Undone, which I consider a literary gem. Had it been written by a woman, it would have been marketed in a completely different way and reached a much smaller audience, in my humble opinion, of course. I think more men would read books that fall squarely into the “chick lit” category if the books were packaged and marketed in such a way to make them be reflective of what they are: stories about people and their lives.

Susan: I have to agree with Maggie that there are often serious issues underlying fiction dismissed as “women’s” or “cozies,” only the packaging usually belies that. Where mysteries are concerned, those softer covers, often with tea cups or cats, are frequently made fun of by those who write darker stuff. I remember one author of serial killer stories in particular who regularly belittled cozy fiction in his talks. I’ve written both dark mysteries and light mysteries, and I actually found doing humor harder than serious stuff. My amateur sleuth novels were all packaged with candy-colored covers, and I didn’t mind at all that they were marketed to romance fans as well as mystery. My debut in women’s fiction, The Cougar Club, has a hot pink cover with a handbag on it. I would venture to say a man would have to be very sure of himself to buy such a book and read it in public! I buy books written by both sexes without thinking twice, and it would take a pretty freaky cover to turn me off. There’s definitely a double standard, but that’s life as we know it.

Evelyn: People do judge a book by its cover. Men are no exception. Just as we wouldn’t pick up a book featuring a guy wearing camouflage holding a gun, most men won’t pick up a book with a woman in an antebellum dress holding a bouquet of roses. The cover is a large and colorful but clear message about who the book is written for—and who the author is.

Susan: A guy friend of mine once emailed to say, “I was reading Blue Blood on the subway and got a lot of strange looks.” I applauded him for being so brave since Blue Blood has a typically chick lit cover that’s bright yellow with cartoonish women’s legs on it. Which has me wondering if electronic readers will begin to change the book buying habits of men at all because no one can see what you’re reading. Hmm.

Rachel: I don’t think men are “afraid” to pick up women’s fiction. I think the presumed topics in those novels just don’t interest them, and that’s fair. Just a few weeks ago, a guy friend who read an ARC of my new book, Dead Lift, said he didn’t expect to like it as much as Final Approach because, where the first novel was set around skydiving, this one is set (partially) in a spa. The interesting thing is that he did end up liking the story despite its more feminine setting. This is where I think men and women differ. Women are more likely to pick up books that are more “manly” if there’s a good mystery driving the plot. But what man wants to be caught with a book that has a pink, sparkly high heel shoe on the front? Final Approach was originally edited by a male author of many romance novels. He published them under a female pseudonym. I wonder how many women are writing as men.

Misa: Raise your hand if you know the gender of Harper Lee. Uh-huh. It’s a book that’s highly recognized by men and women, but how many men think Harper’s a man? Okay, this isn’t really a reason, but I’m just saying.

Rachel: It might be the case that men assume novels written by women will deal primarily with women’s themes or that they will be softer novels. In many cases, I’d agree that’s true. When I think about books by male authors, though, none come to mind that were predominantly driven by “guy themes.” Male protagonists seem more career-driven with relationships on the periphery, and that’s okay with me. I suppose a man picking up a book with a female protagonist may tire of her endless pursuit for dates, preoccupation with her weight, or frustrations with her in-laws. The unfortunate thing is that many books by female authors do not focus on these things. We all have to keep an open mind, folks. There’s something out there for all of us to read.

Evelyn: We’re generalizing here, but it’s a pretty safe generalization. Men don’t want to talk about emotions, theirs or anyone else’s. They certainly don’t want to read about them.

Misa: Men show a huge lack of interest about personal introspection, family, and/or domestic elements in their book choices. We’re still ingrained with the age old gender differences, and reading choices reflect that. Women acknowledge that fiction can give guidance or solace but with men…not so much. They keep emotion bottled up. Books written by women tend to have more emotion built in and for a man to read such a book would, by association, mean he has those emotions, too, and he just doesn’t, right?

Evelyn: We believe that men who do read fiction are drawn to themes, more likely than not, written by other men, such as Westerns, military themes (think Tom Clancy and The Hunt for Red October), and adventure.

Misa: Men read angst-ridden books in which the struggle to overcome some catastrophic circumstance is at the core of the plot. Don’t women write this type of novel? Sure, as long as there’s emotional growth woven in. Ah, emotion, there’s that word again. Men only like adventure and triumphing over adversity just as women only like romance and love. God, it’s great to be a stereotype, isn’t it?!

So what do YOU think? We’d like to hear your thoughts on the subject, too!

Switching Gears


Known as a mystery writer, it seems really odd to be promoting my latest, a romance with a supernatural touch. Actually, I wrote this book long ago because of a tragedy that happened in our family–I think I did it as part of my grieving process. It was only available as an e-book. My publisher wanted to make it into a trade paperback and who am I to argue?

So it is now available in all the usual places. Anyone who wants an autographed copy can order it from my website; http;//fictionforyou.com

My publisher sent copies to the Public Safety Writers Association conference and I really didn’t think it was the type of book that would appeal to cops, FBI and others in the law enforcement fields since it deals with the death of deputy sheriff and what happens after with his wife and kids–but it sold way better than the two mysteries I’d brought.

So, for the next few weeks I’ll be promoting Lingering Spirit while writing the next in my Rocky Bluff P.D. series.

Marilyn

Hey, You Got Romance in My Mystery!


In my inaugural post here at The Stiletto Gang, I want to start out by giving the high-heeled ladies a big high-heeled shout out.

I’m so thrilled to be here! They are such a great bunch of women, fabulous writers, and I’m happy to be in their company.

And now, here’s a little snippet of…

What a die-hard romance reader might say of a hybrid mystery romance: “Hey, you got mystery in my romance!”

What a die-hard mystery fan might say of a hybrid romance mystery: “Hey, you got romance in my mystery!”

Brings to mind a certain Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup commercial of by-gone years, doesn’t it?



Depending upon how you look at it, a mixed genre book starts out as one thing, then something else gets sprinkled into it. I don’t know what convensional wisdom says about mixed genre books; I just know what I like. A little romance makes the world go ‘round.

I love having romantic tension infuse a character’s growth.

I thoroughly enjoy reading (and writing about) characters who don’t exist purely in the vacuum of solving a mystery.

For me, a mystery book is made all the better when love enters into to. And if it’s a series where love grows, all the better. I want to spend time with the characters and grow with them, experience the blossoming of their love, and feel the satisfaction when they’ve committed to one another on the heels of solving whatever mystery is in their lives and potentially keeping them apart.

I also think that this type of hybrid book is a harder sell. Finding a home for Living the Vida Lola was a challenge for just this reason. It isn’t traditional mystery. Nor is it traditional romance. Publishers didn’t quite know what to do with it or how to market it. But it did find a home and since its publication, I’ve read quite a few mixed genre mystery romances. What the big deal is with marketing, I’m not really sure, but readers have made it known that they like a little romance in their mystery, or… a little mystery in their romance.

How about you? Are you a traditionalist? Like your mysteries and romances pure, or does mixing it up give you a thrill?


Romance Is In the Air

My granddaughter who lives next door and is in and out of the house several times a day had big news for all of us last Sunday morning. Her boyfriend of two years proposed and gave her a ring.

That morning in church, Juan announced to the whole congregation that he’d asked Jessica to marry him and she’d accepted. Everyone applauded. The pastor (who happens to be my son-in-law) called Juan, Jessi and her mom (my son was working) up to the front and they all prayed.

Jessi and Juan met in their freshman year in high school. He was immediately enamored, but Jessi wasn’t ready for a boyfriend. They had many of the same classes and when it came time for the Christmas formal, Juan asked Jessi to go with him. She wanted to go to the dance, so agreed. That was the extent of their dating until the next big dance came along. Again she went with him. That continued for two years. His persistence paid off, because Jessi began spending more time with him.

Both played soccer for the high school and some of their dates consisted of practicing soccer together.

When Juan started coming to church every Sunday and then helping Jessi with the Sunday School class she teaches, we all knew the friendship had developed into more of a romance.

Now Jessi is planning her wedding which won’t be until next March and her father is moaning about what it’s going to cost him.

Our pastor won’t marry anyone until they’ve been counseled. The first step is for each of them to fill out a questionnaire without speaking to each other about it. She’s done it already and I’m sure Juan won’t be far behind.

I’m glad I’m the grandmother and don’t have to be in on the planning. It’s fun to hear all of her ideas, just glad I don’t have to execute any of them.

For my eldest daughter, we planned the wedding together. She made her dress and helped the bridesmaids who didn’t know how to sew make theirs. Daisies grew all over the neighborhood and we picked them for the baskets the bridesmaids carried. We had the reception in our family room and back yard and I prepared all the food.

My second daughter had a small wedding and again I prepared the food for the reception which was again at our house. Eldest son went to Vegas and married,the reception was at our house and I prepared the food. Years later, this was repeated when he got married the second time. Youngest daughter did all her wedding planning, reception was in eldest daughter’s back yard. I prepared the food.

Youngest son had a church wedding and the reception was in our house and I prepared the food. Years later he had a second wedding in Vegas, and I know you can guess where the reception was and who prepared the food.

Thank goodness I can just sit back and enjoy the one that’s coming.

Marilyn a.k.a. F. M. Meredith