Monday's guest blogger is a favorite of mine - SHANNON MCKENNA! She writes sizzling romantic suspense thrillers. They can be read alone, but the characters do connect from one book to the next. I've been a fan of Shannon's for years!
Check out Shannon's blog here: http://www.shannonmckenna.com/
"Shannon McKenna is a refreshing talent who brings spark to her genre."
~Romantic Times
"I love the way Shannon McKenna writes!"
~Lori Foster, NYT Bestselling Author
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HOW IT ALL BEGAN I started writing my first romance novel in secret. I was working a temp job in an insurance office in Manhattan at the time, and the office manager had made it clear that even if there was nothing to do, I still had to look busy-- never one of my big talents. I felt bad about the wasted time, though, and I needed something to round out my other chosen career, which was singing. Yeah, that's right. Most artists choose a more practical Plan B to back up their improbable Plan A. Me? No way. "Long Shot" is my middle name. So I sneakily set up a Document 1 and a Document 2 with a spreadsheet on it. If my Boss du Jour walked by I could quick-like-a-bunny switch screens, and whenever the coast was clear, I went back to my story. Not that I was slacking, mind you. If there was work to be done, I did it. The sneakiness felt familiar, though, because I've been teased about reading romances since I was a kid. I think the day I finally grew up was the day I stopped trying to cover up what I was reading on the bus, train or subway. Let people think whatever they like. It wasn't until I moved to Italy (details of that Long Shot provided later on) that I got serious about writing, though. I found myself with many long, quiet days alone with nothing to do, so I slogged my way bravely to the end of the manuscript and sent it out. Everybody rejected it-except for Kensington. I wrote for them for a few years, and then made a bid for an erotic novella for the new Brava imprint, and oh joy, they accepted it. Then I wrote BEHIND CLOSED DOORS. And so on, and so forth. That's how I started. I can't think of anything I'd rather do. I never knew it would be so scary, and so hard . . . all that solitude and silence, a blank computer screen, and no one to blame. But still. It's worth it. It's great.
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MY OTHER LIFE I was originally convinced that I wanted to make it as a singer in NYC, so I was temping to support my music habit. I sang with various ensembles that performed medieval and renaissance music, I sang lead in a fabulous Celtic fusion band, I sang church gigs, I sang weddings and funerals, smoky cabaret and country/blues, Christmas carols dressed in a Dickens outfit in shopping malls, I was even a strolling madrigal singer at the Renaissance Faire in one of those cleavage-enhancing lace-up bodice thingies. I did everything I could possibly think of to make the rent. Those were my wild years. Then, Italy…which is a lot mellower than NYC. And oh. The food. Words fail me.
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ROMANTIC ASIDE A brief word about the Renaissance Faire. I never did a goofier, more ridiculous or worse-paying gig, but I have to say, the place was a sizzling hotbed of summer romance. Such a variety of gorgeous men in tights to choose from, and I've always loved historical romances. Yum. Then one day, I saw a group of Italian musicians strolling by. They were all handsome, as Italians are wont to be, but the lute player was just delicious. His legs in tights surpassed all other legs, and those long, tanned fingers twinkled so deftly over the lute strings, it just made me quiver. His name was Nicola, and he didn't speak a word of English, but I was undaunted. I followed him around, dreaming up excuses to talk to him, insofar as I could. Then I saw him at the cast campfire that night, whipping up a delicious pasta dish over two tiny camp stoves for more than fifty people with such grace and flair, my knees sagged beneath me. What could be sexier than a man who can cook? After we devoured his bounty off paper plates, he played Bach for us on his classical guitar, naked to the waist in the flickering firelight, green eyes flashing. Hold me back. (No one did.) The ultimate summer romance ensued, but he went back to Italy when the summer was over. I resigned myself to a bittersweet memory of What Might Have Been, but I couldn't stop thinking about him. A year later, I quit my job, broke my lease, put my stuff in a friend's basement, bought a ticket to Italy, and went to find him. Yeah, it was nuts…but we've been married for ten years. Really. Passion makes you reckless. Must've been the effect of all those romance novels.
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Improbable though it may seem, it worked out fine. Now I live in Southern Italy, of all things, and oh, if I ever thought I needed a challenge or an adventure, this is certainly that. Someday I'll write a book about it. It'll be a sharp-edged comedy. But when it comes to love, Nicola will always be my inspiration. |
DIARY ENTRY – ADVENTURES IN ITALY The sun is pounding down, and I’m having a fantasy expatriate morning, starting with a stroll through the beautiful medieval “old town.” The sun is blindingly bright on the pale gold-tinged “tufo” stone that the town is build out of. Brightly painted fishing boats bob in a sea that fades from aqua to deep blue to a narrow streak of indigo on the horizon. The shutters are brilliant green, the geraniums explosions of red in the window-boxes and terraces. Wet sheets dangling from every balcony sway in the breeze and create hot clouds of sweet smelling humidity over our heads. Maybe later we’ll go swimming, but right now the most urgent thing on my mind is coffee. We head straight to our favorite coffee bar. As luck would have it, we encounter Ciccio, our travel agent, or sometime travel agent, I should say. Sometimes he gets bored and runs away with a touring show of “Evita!” or “Jesus Christ Superstar” or “Saturday Night Fever” for a few months. Then he returns and re-opens his agency, regaling us with tales of his affairs with beautiful dancing girls and a sheaf of photographs of himself on stage as Herod or a Bee Gee, or some such. Ciccio has taken it upon himself to be my image consultant, as it is patently clear to any who look at me that I am in desperate need of one. When he heard that I was on the verge of a website, the solitaire on his pinky glittered and winked with his gesticulations. “Molto bene, that you registered the domain. But the site? That you must do like I—“ and he smote his broad chest with a large fist “—like I say. You have to create a Personage. Do you understand what I mean by a Personage?” I know a trick question when I hear one, but I was momentarily dazzled by his pink-tinted Prada sunglasses and the white gold serpentine chain around his neck. “Uh, no,” I faltered. “Of course you don’t,” Ciccio said indulgently. “What do your readers know about you?” “Practically nothing,” I admitted. “How could they know anything? I’m too new.” Ciccio grinned his relief. “Excellent, excellent. So you could tell them anything. Anything at all. What an opportunity, no? You could be a countess in a castle by the sea. You could be an international spy.” His eyes swept over my usual summer uniform; freckles, a crumpled linen skirt, a tank top, sand-encrusted flip-flops, hair wound back into a scrunchy. He shook his head sadly. “You don’t want them to know the real you. You write erotic thrillers, no? You have to be thrilling. Inscrutable. You have to have . . . mystique!” I was rescued from the necessity of a reply by Salvatore, the barista, who presented me with a wedge ofpastiera. It’s a delicious pie made of eggs, ricotta, wheat-berries, candied fruit and orange-flower water. “Your espressino is getting cold,” he reproved me. “I sugared it for you.” I’m always touched when Salvatore sugars my espressino. It’s a mark of familiarity, a gesture that imparts to me, the valued customer, that I’m here so often that he knows exactly how I take my coffee. I’ve never had the heart to tell him that he puts in twice as much sugar as I like. It would spoil the tender moment. Besides, the coffee’s so wonderful, it would be ignoble to complain. One learns not to quibble about such details when one lives abroad. In a matter of moments, I’m flying high on a caffeine and sugar buzz, and I begin to actually consider Ciccio’s suggestion. I contemplate putting a fake photo in my website. Some vampy girl, legs up to her chin, dressed in black leather and spike heels. Sloe eyes, bee-stung lips, belly button proudly displayed. It sounds like the beginning of a romantic comedy, and in an instant, I’m writing the synopsis in my head. The hero is played by Hugh Grant—no, wait. Hugh Jackman, now we’re talking. He’ll pursue the image in the fake website photo for some reason, and the real writer behind the website, played by a frumped up Sandra Bullock in horn-rimmed glasses, will embark upon an escalating series of misadventures to cover her tracks, which will culminate in them both learning the Importance of Being True To Yourself, yada yada, while finding true love and all that good stuff along the way. Yeah. Yikes. Maybe I’ll write that story someday, but I don’t want to live it! Pretending to be something you’re not is stressful. Besides, my sweetie already knows the truth about me, and he appears to be handling it. So if you’re interested, here’s where you’ll find odd bits and pieces of the Shocking Truth about living in Italy from time to time, when book deadlines permit. No countess in a castle by the sea, or international spy. No black leather, spike heels or belly buttons. Just me, and my adventures in a foreign land, where truth is always stranger than fiction . . . and the coffee is simply awesome. But for now, I’d better get to work on the next book, so that this website will have a right to exist. Til later, then, with much love, Shannon McKenna |
More from Shannon's website:http://www.shannonmckenna.com
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March 14, 2011 Hello again, at last! I think I may have set some sort of a record this time, for how long I have failed to update the “news” section. I keep promising myself and my readers that this is the year that I’m going to face the overwhelming task of bringing this site to life—and then I get mired in the task of bringing my story to life, which always seems to take precedence. Constant crisis mode. So far, I appear to suck at multitasking, but I have not yet given up hope that someday, that will change. Suddenly, books will flow quickly and prolifically from my pen along with brilliant, meaningful blog entries, and like a flash of lightning, I will finally get a clue about the impenetrable mysteries of social media . . . But not this year. This year was very intense, for many reasons. Just one of those reasons was the book itself, BLOOD AND FIRE, slated for release in October of 2011. Bruno’s story. Check out the eye-popping cover (how about those red, glossy lips?) I’ve never had such a bright, sexy, in-your-face cover before. My nervous, shy inner hamster quailed when I first saw it. Then, bit by bit, my inner naughty exhibitionist vixen started liking it. Those lips. Wow. The cover really does suit the book. You’ll see what I mean if you read it. I first met Bruno in FADE TO MIDNIGHT, I really liked the guy, and I always felt like there was a story that needed telling somewhere, in the tangled and rather violent skein of his past. It ended up being almost as unruly a backstory as FADE had been, which is saying a great deal. I’m still polishing, plugging in bits and pieces here and there, but by and large, it’s in the machine now, grinding along towards publication. Time to write the next one! All I can say about it is that the McCloud universe gets bigger with every book. My next hero will be the sullen but smoldering Alex Aaro, erstwhile Army buddy of Davy McCloud. Passion, mayhem and true love are right around the corner for him. Poor guy won’t even know what hit him. But he’ll give as good as he gets. More happy news: the mass market version of ULTIMATE WEAPON comes out in May. I’m always thrilled to announce a more economic format in one of my books. Budgets are tight everywhere, but tanking up on stories is vital for our health, so the further a reader can stretch her book budget, the better. See the excellent e-postcard that Kensington did for the release, right here. FADE TO MIDNIGHTwill come out in mass market as well, in September of next year. Huzzah. And as always, I wish to express how grateful I am to everyone who reads my books, for making it possible for me to do this work. It is a privilege, and I know it’s a privilege, even while I’m complaining about it! Have a wonderful spring, everyone, and wish me luck with Alex Aaro. He’ll be a tricky one to wrestle to the ground. Best, Shannon McKenna
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Restless and impulsive, Bruno Ranieri has the temperament to fit right in with the McClouds. And just like the McCloud brothers, Bruno has a dangerous past to contend with—one that’s about to come crashing back into his life…
Bruno Ranieri has always lived at a chaotic pace, and that goes double lately. Since his uncle’s untimely demise, Bruno is working himself to the bone, trying to keep his nose clean and save the family business. Not easy when the nightmares that plagued his childhood are hi-jacking what little rest he gets.
So when exotically beautiful Lily Parr sashays into his all-night restaurant, claiming to be on the run from mysterious assassins, Bruno starts to wonder if sleep deprivation is finally getting to him. Especially when Lily implies that Bruno is involved. But the violence that accompanies her arrival is no illusion. Nor is the blisteringly hot, completely inconvenient desire that explodes between them.
Lily Parr has been a fugitive ever since her father’s death a month ago in a mental hospital. Officials claimed it was suicide, but Lily’s gut—and the savage murder attempt she barely escaped afterwards—say different. Snippets of information led Lily to Bruno’s door...and his magnetic charisma compelled her right into his bed. But there are cold-blooded killers on her heels, with resources as limitless as their cruelty.
Running won’t help, not when the biggest threat is the terrifying secret lurking in Bruno and Lily’s pasts. A secret their mysterious enemy will gladly destroy them to protect—unless they can uncover it first...
Click and scroll down for excerpts: http://www.shannonmckenna.com/bloodandfire.html
Hi everyone! I'm not sure if Shannon will be joining us - I hope she does, but it's optional when authors write guest blogs for us. (Some are busy with book tours and don't have time to visit.)
I will check in later in the day, but I'm on vacation and won't be available in the morning. Please go ahead and post your questions and comments here - I'll pass them on to Shannon if she isn't able to hang out with us.
See you later!
Becke
