To return to Rebecca E. Grant's web page:
www.RebeccaEGrant.com

Seven months ago, I entered LIBERTY STARR, my debut contemporary western romance into Romance Writers Ink Where the Magic Begins annual competition. After about 2 weeks of hopeful dreaming about being a possible winner, I promptly forgot about it so that I could get back to the business of writing.

Then, last month RWI contacted me to say that LIBERTY STARR was a finalist in the sensual contemporary category. Although I didn’t dare hope too much, I can’t tell you what a thrill it was to experience something like this for the first time.

Today, I’m happy to announce that LIBERTY STARR is indeed, an award-winning western contemporary romance!

If you haven’t read her yet, you can find LIBERTY STARR at Carina Press, or any of your favorite online booksellers.

If you have read her, what was your favorite part?

Rafe had never met a truly irresistible woman, until he met Liberty.

Libby has the kind of beauty that comes on slow—strikes a guy the longer he looks. And Rafe sure is having a fine time looking, and touching, and loving Liberty Starr.

The only problem is that Rafe is pretending to be just another cowboy down on his luck. Working for the FBI, he’s come to Stone Hill, Colorado, to investigate the man Libby loves like a father.

He was just another cowboy.

Free-spirited Libby offers him a job and a place to stay. Together they spark like wildfire, their intense passion filling their days and nights. But Rafe is only in town for the summer, and while Liberty is willing to risk her heart, secrets threaten any possibility of a future together…

Romance Writers Ink is a chapter of Romance Writers of America, a national writers’ association which represents more than 10,250 members.

In the spirit of unstoppable love,

Rebecca E. Grant

Love is Unstoppable!

LIBERTY STARR / Carina Press

Contemporary Cowboy Romance / June 14, 2010

web page: www.RebeccaEGrant.com

   To return to Rebecca's website:
www.RebeccaEGrant.com

Congratulations to Liberty Starr!  It never gets old, the thrill of seeing one of my books as a top pick, or best seller, or top 5. Today, Liberty Starr is #4 on the publisher’s  top 5 list of most popular books, and when I saw it, I felt grateful to all of you who put her there, and smiled because I thought how perfect for Valentine’s Day. I hope she brings smiles, romance and a lot of heat (you know the kind I mean) to those who read her.

So, it’s the day after the Super bowl… I’m not a football fan (please don’t hate me) so I won’t comment except to say that here in Minnesota where I’ve lived all my life, we are in a dead heat during football season against our neighbor to the east, the Wisconsin Green Bay Packers. We’re talking McCoy-Hattfield syndrome. So I found it curious that suddenly a lot of Minnesotans were in full support of the Packers to win the Super bowl. There’s nothing like sports to bridge the great divide.

Well, I'm off to a busy day. If you’re in a cold climate, I hope you find a way to stay warm. If you’re in a warm climate, this is your moment to feel quite superior—I mean, how smart are you?!

And, if you're looking for a fun read, I can recommend any of the authors on the Carina Press website . They're amazing.

In the spirit of unstoppable love,

Rebecca E. Grant

Love is Unstoppable!

www.CarinaPress.com

    To Return to Rebecca's Website: www.RebeccaEGrant.com 

I live in Minnesota and never felt the need to defend it. Not even when the movie Fargo came out in 1996, and Minnesotans took quite a hit. Suddenly we were all hicks talking in some kind of back-woods dialect that I couldn’t even understand.

We laughed about it.

Prior to that movie's release, and now that it’s been more than a decade since, Minnesotans are back to taking it on the chin about our terrible winters.

I’ve always loved winter… until last year when we had record-breaking cold and snow for the first time in 10 or 12 years. It's only January, and again, we're having record snowfalls.

I can't believe I'm actually saying (to anyone who will listen) … "why do we live here?"

To illustrate my point, this was the view from my writing loft a week ago.

Seriously.

Here’s what it looked like after it was partially cleared.

And, here’s what it feels like (this is not my photo—click on it to link to the actual website).

<sigh> it’s great for hibernation. But since I’m not a bear, I’m seriously beginning to consider a winter home.

The question is, where? Any suggestions?

If you want a winter break, warm up with a copy of LIBERTY STARR!

I promise, there's enough romantic heat to make you think it's the middle of summer!

Or visit Carina Press to see titles from all their fabulous authors!

Rebecca E. Grant

Love is Unstoppable!

LIBERTY STARR I Contemporary Cowboy Romance

Carina Press¾June 14, 2010

www.RebeccaEGrant.com

http://blog.RebeccaEGrant.com
You can find me on Facebook and Twitter as well

 To Return to Rebecca's Website: www.RebeccaEGrant.com 

On this new year’s eve, I’ve been trying to think of something profound to say about the past year. So many things have happened to us all and I, like many of you, sometimes forget just how powerful our thoughts and words are. So, while there are many, many things I'd like to change about this world, I'm choosing instead to share with you, and celebrate some very personal highlights of 2010, which are …

• Had my first two romance novels published in 2010
• Wrote three more novels
• Made some great new friends
• Celebrated throughout the year with old friends
• Lost 34 lbs (good-bye pounds!)
• Had the best Christmas ever at my brother’s home in Texas
• Looking forward to 2011 because I just know it’ll be the best year, yet!

Can't wait to sip a little champagne tonight!

To all of you, my very best wishes for a magical 2011.

Rebecca E. Grant

Love is Unstoppable!

LIBERTY STARR I Contemporary Cowboy Romance

Carina Press¾June 14, 2010

www.RebeccaEGrant.com

http://blog.RebeccaEGrant.com

 Websites for the artwork (they're much more fun if viewed at the original website--they sparkle!):
Fairy
Woman and Bear

 To Return to Rebecca's Website: www.RebeccaEGrant.com 

This morning I walked through the expansive kitchen of my brother's house where organ music via public radio swelled and filled the room, then followed me down the hallway and into the library. By the time I sat down at the keyboard, I was filled with good will and excited (for the first time this season) about Christmas.

So, from me (and all my characters) to you, no matter what you celebrate this season, may it bring you joy, peace, generosity and remind you that love is unstoppable.

Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays,
Rebecca E. Grant
Love is Unstoppable!

A few moments later, I heard what sounded like a high-pitched scream; clearly not human. I thought maybe one of them had dug up a toy with a squeaker in it… but then I couldn’t remember ever having bought them such a toy.

And suddenly I knew… it’s fall. I live on the edge of a wooded wetlands. My cats are running up and down the stairs like crazy. There’s a high-pitched squeaking… it can only mean one thing.

A mouse in the house. Sometimes they come in during the fall. It’s the only time I’ve ever seen one.

Now, I try to have love in my heart for every living thing. I’ll admit, I have a little trouble (okay a lot of trouble) with snakes… and I’m okay with mice when they’re outside, or at the pet store, but I really hate having them in the house.

And now I had a dilemma. Ultimately, I knew my girls would take care of the mouse, but not until they’d played with it for as long is at amused them. I hated to think of the mouse suffering like that. Still, if I didn’t let things take their natural course, I’d have to figure out what I was going to do with the mouse, and how.

I stood at the top of the stairs in my foyer while my cats chased the mouse up and down—one cat at the bottom—the other at the top. The mouse was in the middle considering its options. It chose badly and raced up a few steps where Talle sat on it. Then she looked at me like, “what do you think of that?”

The little mouse wiggled its way out and started coming toward me. I really hate it when they run at me. I had a newspaper in my hand and rattled it. The mouse whirled around, shot past Talle, past Tasha, and into a corner behind a large crock. Three pairs of eyes blinked at me—yellow, green, and black.

I groaned and did what I usually do when I have to deal with something I don’t like… I turned to an archangel. They understand what a girl I am when it comes to mice (and other things).

I should state here that my belief in angels and archangels has nothing to do with religion. I believe we are all spiritual beings engaged in a human existence and that we’re surrounded by spiritual beings who provide guidance, assistance and love.

So I said to Raphael (the archangel who cares for pets, among other things), “What am I gonna do here? You know how I hate having mice in the house.”

I never hear the angels, but they do give me strong impressions. Sometimes they’re images, sometimes they’re thoughts/impressions. In this case, I was given a strong impression to walk quietly past all three animals and get the long handled dust pan and small shovel that I keep in the laundry room.

Silently I argued back, “Are you kidding me? If I walk past my cats, they’re going to lunge at the mouse, and the chase will start all over again. At the very least, the mouse is going to run when I try to walk past it.”

Here I am, arguing with an archangel as if I knew better!

But the image of the dust pan and shovel kept nudging me. So I stopped arguing and eased past all three. Not one of them moved.

In the laundry room, I picked up the dust pan and shovel, wondering how much I’d have to chase the little critter before I got it into the dust pan. Below is a visual of a similar dustpan to the one I was using.

I tip-toed out of the laundry room. My cats were still at attention, one eye on the mouse, the other watching my every move. As I approached the mouse, it flattened itself against the carpet. I hated to see anything so frightened, and I expected at any moment for it to move deeper behind the crock. Then I’d have to move the crock, and as I did that, the mouse would run away—probably right over my feet, don’t you think?

But Raphael kept nudging me. And guess what?

That darn little mouse… which was in no way cute… ran right into the dust pan. I was so surprised, I almost reacted too slowly. I held the shovel over the opening of the dust pan (just in case the little critter tried to crawl out, opened the front door and watched it run for its life.

<sigh> I know some will say, “Congratulations, you just let him live to visit your home another day.”

But I just couldn’t kill the little bugger. And, I’m pretty sure I saw Raphael smiling…

PS: I’m open to other ways to remove mice … or to keep them from getting in, in the first place. Any suggestions?

Rebecca E. Grant

To Return to Rebecca's Website
www.RebeccaEGrant.com 

Every author has a pattern and mine goes like this: 
 

Discovery: This involves a deep love affair with Google and several other search engines during which time I try to call to myself whatever the universe wants to tell me about my next project. It’s not a social time for me, and people who know me well have learned not to try to coax me out during this process. Bless them!

Party-writing: The next phase is using the new information I’ve gleaned from search engines to plot out… okay, who am I kidding? I am not a plotter. Once I have a general idea, I spend a couple of weeks (sometimes more) writing until I get to know the characters. It’s like I’m partying with them 24/7 and they are never shy about where they take me! I can be coaxed into being a little social during this phase.

Book writing: this is where the story comes so hard and fast, I can hardly keep up (except when it doesn’t...). Stories are coy—they tease the author every bit as much as they tease the reader. Frankly, being social during this phase hurts—like doing a somersault and landing on your head.

Revision: a really big challenge for me is waiting long enough until I have enough perspective about the book to be able to revise… let go of phrases and sometimes entire chapters that I’ve fallen in love with, but don’t do anything for the book. Sometimes I don’t even talk to anyone during this phase.

Recovery Part A: I practically become comatose (I’m not joking).

Recovery Part B: Hooooooooo rah! This is awildly social time—gregarious—hold me back! While I won’t bungie jump, I am ready to P-L-A-Y.

Bore Myself to Death: apparently this is a vital part of the process (and a social time) that usually doesn’t last long. I get so b-o-r-e-d I can’t stand it another minute. Yet, often I haven’t ‘filled back up’ yet enough to write, so I …

Start cleaning: yup—my least favorite part of the phase. I clean until I get the urge to start all over again.

I’m currently in the cleaning phase which often involves a lot of cooking, too. But my oven died 4 days ago. Now, why couldn’t it have died during phases 1-4 when I rarely use it (phases 1-4 are microwave phases).

The poor thing desperately needed cleaning, so I turned it to self-clean and woke up in the morning to a spiffy oven and a loud beeping… with a nasty little F1 code (which of course means ‘call a service tech’). $200 later, my oven is working and I’ve made a ton of comfort food (meatloaf… with garlic and fresh sage, mushrooms, hot pepper flakes), au gratin potatoes, and of course my flourless chocolate cake.

That phase may be over… this morning I found myself researching. I’m like a farmer about to till the soil. Whoooooooieeeeeeeeeee, here we go again!

Well, I’m off to meet my Dad for lunch and catch up on small-town life but before I do, here’s my meatloaf recipe. 

(This is not an actual photo of my meatloaf, BTW. Click meatloaf for photo location and what appears to be another wonderful meatloaf recipe)

My meatloaf recipe (my friends used to sniff when I said I loved to make meatloaf… until they tasted it) J:

1 lbs ground beef
1 lbs ground pork
Salt and pepper to taste
2 or 3 eggs
1 C (possibly more) croutons (broken up into small pieces)
1 package Lipton onion soup
Approx. ½ C chopped onions
Lots of garlic, chopped—whatever you can handle
Mushrooms—chopped into small pieces—I use the whole container
White pepper to taste
Pepper flakes to taste (for that smack-your-lips-this-is-a-party-in-my-mouth flavor)
Fresh sage, chopped. I always do this by feel so I don’t know how to advise, but this and the garlic give it a sort of gourmet taste.

Mix well. Bake for an hour at 375. Some of the best comfort food, ever.

My thanks to the oven repair guy (Tim) for ministering to my oven so that I could cook, and move to the next phase!

I hope you all enjoy what promises to be another lovely autumn weekend!

Rebecca E. Grant

Love is Unstoppable!

LIBERTY STARR I Contemporary Cowboy Romance

Carina Press¾June 14, 2010

www.RebeccaEGrant.com

http://blog.RebeccaEGrant.com

To Return to Rebecca's Website
www.RebeccaEGrant.com

I read an article written by Lani Diane Rich, recently (she’s a New York Times and USA Today best-selling author of eight solo novels and one collaboration) in which she suggested that for every book an author writes, a helpful technique is to create a playlist specific to that book, and then play it over and over while writing, while sleeping, while eating, while doing your nails, while walking the dog… you get the idea. In this way, the music becomes an unconscious cue for the brain to ‘sync up’ (my interpretation, not her words)  with the characters, plot, and all things that make a good read for the book you're currently writing, such as pacing, tension, conflict, mystery.

Her point is that the familiar music kicks the brain into auto pilot and frees it up to be open to creative inspiration. I chuckled when she mentioned that we often get some of our best ideas while driving because I've experienced this phenomenon more times than I can count. Apparently, the soundtrack technique works in the same way. And, when authors live their book—their story, it becomes a much more authentic read (to say nothing of a more authentic experience for the author).

I loved the idea and may try it. What makes me hesitate is that I’ve tried listening to various kinds of music when I write (jazz, classical, torch, an occasional country western tune, sacred choral music ... I could go on) but the only thing I’ve found that works for me when I write is new age music—which surprised me. It isn’t typically what I would choose to listen to.

Something about those new age sounds always puts me in a state of high receptivity to new ideas and draws me deep into the world I’m creating as I write. If I become aware of the music, it can jolt me right out of my world—and so the tranquil sounds of new age feels a little as if I were being petted all over—soothed and encouraged to stay in my world (is this weird? How strange do I sound right now? Well hang on… I’m going to sound even more strange in a sec).

<sigh> Even the best writers sometimes bury the lead… which is what I’ve done here because what I really wanted to convey is that I’ve just become a huge fan of Patrick O’Hearn, a fabulous bassist whose new age music is amazing, and whose piece, The Cold Sea’s Embrace made my soul weep the first time I heard it—as if every pore of my being cried out for… what? I'm not sure how to describe the feeling except to say that I felt an inconsolable ache. As if the music called to every part of me—every cell--every life I’ve ever had, every being I’ve ever been, whether in body, or out of body—every dream I’ve ever dreamed—every love I’ve ever experienced—every desire I've ever had.

Damn! But I am in love with that piece!

So, what about you? Any techniques or suggestions you’d like to share? I'd love to hear them.

Rebecca E. Grant
Love is Unstoppable!
LIBERTY STARR I Contemporary Cowboy Romance
Carina Press¾June 14, 2010
www.RebeccaEGrant.com
http://blog.RebeccaEGrant.com

To Return to Rebecca's Website
www.RebeccaEGrant.com

I did my best to cover up the fact that the roof was the one thing I really despised about the place. I’m genetically programmed to experience nausea when I see the color rust (my apologies to all you rust-lovers out there). And, as you’ve already guessed, the roof was an evil rust color that IMHO clashed with the taupe-colored siding and deeper taupe-colored window shutters.

Every time I came home, I’d swallow hard at the sight of the roof. Eventually, I learned to avert my eyes.

And then… came the hail… and more hail. All hail to insurance companies (pun intended) because this week, those of us who live in my townhome community have a new roof.

Dulcet is the word that comes to mind when I try to describe it. A combination of soft browns, taupes and grays, the color lightens when the sun hits it, darkens slightly in the shade, and blends beautifully with the siding and window shutters. (Seriously, the photo does not do it justice!)

As a writer, I spend a fair amount of time in my home (usually in my loft—which incidentally is the room closest to the roof) and I swear, it feels lighter throughout my entire home, but especially in my loft… because although I can’t see the roof from there, I can feel the difference between living under a color I despise, and this wonderfully new blended neutral tone!

Special thanks to the hard working association board who were able to make this happen! Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 
In the spirit of unstoppable love,

Rebecca E. Grant

Love is Unstoppable!

LIBERTY STARR I Contemporary Cowboy Romance

Carina Press¾June 14, 2010

www.RebeccaEGrant.com

http://blog.RebeccaEGrant.com

To Return to Rebecca's Website
www.RebeccaEGrant.com

I was searching for images that inspire hope. I’ll tell you why in a minute. Here’s one that really spoke to me.

The artist is Alexandra Hunter . The image will take you to her website. I don't know anything about her--I only know this image took my breath away, and I love the poetry: Hope was both anchor and sail.

I’m coming off an amazing experience and can hardly believe it myself. I’ve just spent three weeks in what I can only describe as a time-warp bubble, rewriting a book I’ve written so many times, I thought I’d never write it again. I kept thinking, “I just don’t have another rewrite in me.”

Surprise! I did! And it turned out to be one of the best experiences of my life.

The story first came to me twenty years ago when it was plausible to build a plot around not being able to reach someone by phone because cell phones didn’t exist. Today, that’s nearly impossible to do (but I found a way without putting my characters on a Tibetan mountain-top visiting the Dalai Lama). Twenty years ago it was considered by many an insult to get an answering machine instead of a live person. There was no Internet, no texting, no sexting... I’ll stop there before I make myself sound older than I am J  

My point is, rewriting a story that was first conceived twenty years ago takes a lot of restructuring because the world has changed so much.

The original story was a great concept, but OMG, it was naively written and just b-a-d. I rewrote the story again in 1995, barely got through it and kicked it to the curb (still b-a-d). I tried it again in 2002 and didn’t even get all the way through it.

And yet, that story wouldn’t leave my heart. In April of 2009, I made up my mind to be a romance author—not a romance writer—a published romance author, and started with (you guessed it) my twenty-year old story. I really thought I’d nailed it this time.

Well, several critique groups and a very intense class later… I learned it was not ready. So, I took all the feedback and new learning to heart, and wrote the book again. Surely this time it was complete. Yes?

NO...

My editor was very, very kind in her response when she said, “I really loved the world you created in this novel.” She said other kind things, and then got down to business detailing exactly what didn’t work… and it was A LOT!

If you’re a writer, you know that it’s almost impossible to get specific feedback from anyone in the business about your work, until you’ve been published. Then, if you’re lucky (like I was) your editor will work with you to help you understand the strengths and weaknesses of future submissions.

She advised, “Don’t feel you need to rush through revisions. Rather, take the time you need.”

I was so grateful for the feedback, yet I was in the middle of two books at the time. So, I wasn’t able to start the rewrite immediately, nor was I ready.

Then, three weeks ago, I got the ‘nudge’ from my spiritual network letting me know it was time. I slept, ate, drank, and lived those characters for three weeks while they told me who they really were, and what was really going on in the story. I kept having these huge ‘aha’ moments, realizing that they’d tried to tell me this each time I sat down to write it before, and for whatever reason, I’d never been able to hear them.

I kept saying to ‘them’ (them being the spiritual beings that make up my muse), “Okay, I hear you but this is turning into an entirely different story.”

Their response was to trust them—it was the same story with so much more depth (and sex).

And now I’m going to sound like every new author who doesn’t know how fallible it makes her to fall in love with her own characters (because it interferes with a writer’s objectivity) when I say:

“I’M SO IN LOVE WITH THE CHARACTERS IN MY LATEST NOVEL!”

I want to tell the crabby grocery store checker. When the bagger asks me if I want paper or plastic, I want to say “who the hell cares about paper or plastic, I want the hero of my latest novel front and center!”

I want to announce it to everyone on the bus (can you just imagine?!)—and to climb up on the Starbucks counter and shout it to the long line of sleepy people waiting for their caffeine fix.

Instead, I’ll just do a shout out to anyone visiting my blog today… I’M SO IN LOVE WITH THE CHARACTERS OF MY NEW BOOK, NAKED HOPE and I can’t WAIT until the day comes that you are, too! (Excerpt below.)

Until then, blessings to my amazing editor who gave it to me straight and didn’t hold back. Blessings to Joyce, Laura and Ilene, too, who test-read the story and were unflinching in their feedback.

In the spirit of unstoppable love,

Rebecca E. Grant
Love is Unstoppable!
LIBERTY STARR I Contemporary Cowboy Romance
Carina Press¾June 14, 2010
www.RebeccaEGrant.com
http://blog.RebeccaEGrant.com


Excerpt

  The bed was sumptuous, the sheets cool, the pillows yielding. But she couldn’t sleep. The image of two pianos back-to-back, barren in their silence would not leave her. No wonder he sometimes acted as if Olivia was a stranger. They were both so lost. Jill had seen brain injuries turn families into strangers more times than she could remember. She never got used to it. But rarely were they as changed as Olivia appeared to be. Without her music, neither father nor daughter knew who Olivia was.

  Jill wrapped the borrowed robe around her and made her way to the music room. She stood in the dark. The air was shrouded, heavy, as if every drop of joy had been wrung out. She moved over to the window. The clouds had passed. An August moon and a few summer stars provided the only light. If she were quiet enough, maybe the walls would relent and release some of the music that was so starkly absent. She curled up on the sofa, comforted by the afghan he’d placed around her shoulders earlier that evening.

  She must have dropped off. When she awoke, he was in the room standing over the keyboard of Olivia’s baby grand. His body, no more than a shadow jerked in broken spasms. Instinct told her that this was the first time he’d ever allowed himself to release his grief. He fought it. She couldn’t stand to watch.

  She moved to his side. Her touch made him whirl. She guided him back to the sofa where she smoothed the hair from his face. She looked into his eyes and saw his pain transform into passion. Her robe came loose. She let go of him to cinch it closed but he pulled her back before she could tuck it into place. She rocked him like she would a child, trying to provide what comfort she could, aware that she was about to cross a line from which there would be no return—because he was anything but a child. Somehow she knew the boy in him needed comfort, and the man needed to feel like a man.

  His eyes probed hers until she was sure he could read her mind and knew how much she wanted him. He shifted her in his arms until it was he who rocked her, one hand supporting her neck, the other the small of her back. When she could stand it no more, she went in search of his mouth. His lips were vibrant—hungry. He drank her in like a starved man. It was almost too much as his need for emotional release merged with his physical need. He seemed to know, and dragged his mouth away.

  She breathed deeply and pulled him back. Every stroke of his tongue made her burn. She matched him stroke for stroke and arched her back. His arms held her effortlessly and his mouth found its way to the curve of her breast. She moaned and gave up any thought of stopping this thing before it played itself out.

  He brushed her robe open and caught the laces of her nightgown in his teeth. He pulled gently until the gown fell open, found the soft concave between her breasts and filled it with kisses. She could taste a trace of salt from his tears, his body hard and ready.

  “Jillian,” he canted, and carried her up the stairs into what she could only assume was his bedroom.   They fell onto the bed but not before he’d stripped her of her robe and nightgown. “My God, Jillian,” he murmured kissing the inside of her arm.

  She reached for his robe and untied the belt, well aware by now that he wore nothing beneath. His body was perfect; his endowment every bit what a woman would expect from a man who looked like he did. He shrugged out of it and captured her lips as the palms of his hands flattened themselves against hers. She felt them pulsate and wondered if they pulsed like this when he was playing the piano.