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I grew up in Colorado at the foot of the Rocky Mountains, then lived in Denmark and traveled throughout Europe before coming back to Colorado. I have two adult sons, whom I cherish. I started my writing career as a columnist and investigative reporter and eventually became the first woman editor of two different papers. Along the way, my team and I won numerous state and several national awards, including the National Journalism Award for Public Service. In 2011, I was awarded the Keeper of the Flame Lifetime Achievement Award for Journalism. Now I write historical romance and contemporary romantic suspense.

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Wednesday, November 25, 2009

Win an advance copy of NAKED EDGE




Guess what came in the mail today? Advance review copies of Naked Edge! And that means...

IT’S CONTEST TIME!

I didn’t even know I was getting ARCs of the book, but here they are, all nice and bound and unedited. The author’s note, which I turned in at the absolute last moment, isn’t included, but the rest of the story, including the epilogue, is there.

So, in honor of Thanksgiving and in gratitude for your wonderful support, I'm giving away an autographed ARC of Naked Edge to one lucky reader. All you have to do is leave a comment, and your name goes in the hat. I'll pick the winner Sunday night, Nov. 29 at 9 PM Mountain Standard Time.



In the meantime, I wish you and your families a restful and bountiful Thanksgiving!

Blessings,
Pamela
Monday, November 23, 2009

Pie poll results!


How pumpkin pies are made
Cómo se hacen los pasteles de calabaza



Pumpkin pie is the winner by a landslide in our first-ever Thanksgiving Pie Poll. I guess I shouldn't be surprised. Pumpkin is so deeply entrenched with the months of October and November — pumpkin lattes (UG!), pumpkin bread, pumpkin pie — that most people must associate this holiday, and perhaps even Christmas, with pumpkin pie.

Pastel de calabaza es el ganador por un deslizamiento de tierra en nuestra primera encuesta Pie de Acción de Gracias. Creo que no debería sorprendernos. La calabaza es tan profundamente arraigada en los meses de octubre y noviembre - Lattes calabaza (UG!), Pan de calabaza, pastel de calabaza - que la mayoría de la gente debe asociar este día de fiesta, y tal vez hasta Navidad, con pastel de calabaza.


This will be the second year that we do not have pumpkin pie at my house. Last year, we all realized somewhat in unison that pumpkin pie really wasn't our favorite pie (gasp!) and that each of us — me and my two sons — preferred pecan pie any day of the year. So we ordered a pie from a local bakery.

This year, however, Benjamin and I are going to make our own pecan pie from scratch and see how that goes.

Este será el segundo año que no tenemos pastel de calabaza en mi casa. El año pasado, todos nos dimos cuenta un poco al unísono que el pastel de calabaza en realidad no era nuestra tarta favorita (¡oh!) y que cada uno de nosotros - yo y mis dos hijos — pastel de nuez preferido cualquier día del año. Así que pedimos un pastel de una panadería local.

Este año, sin embargo, Benjamín y yo vamos a hacer nuestro propio pastel de nuez de cero y ver cómo va.


Here's our Thanksgiving menu, all of it made fresh from scratch:
Butternut squash soup (made from squash grown in our garden)
Roasted turkey breast
Mashed potatoes
Fresh green beans
Salad
Cornbread stuffing

And pecan pie with fresh-made whip cream or vanilla ice cream or both (why not?)

What's going to be on your Thanksgiving table? Got any cool recipes to share or any you're looking for?

Aquí está nuestro menú de Acción de Gracias, todo hecho nuevo desde cero:
Sopa de calabaza Butternut (a base de calabaza cultivadas en nuestro jardín)
Pechuga de pavo asado
Puré de patatas
Frijoles verdes frescos
Ensalada
Relleno de pan de maíz

Y pastel de nuez fresca hecha con crema chantilly o helado de vainilla o de ambos (¿por qué no?)

¿Qué va a ser en tu mesa de Acción de Gracias? ¿Tienes frío para compartir recetas o cualquier estás buscando?


Oh... I finished proofreading the second pass of copy edits on Naked Edge. That puppy is now officially out of my hands about to go to the press.

This weekend, while hosting a surprise birthday party for Benjamin, who is now 20, and baking his birthday cake and feeding half a dozen teenagers, I managed to dream up Natalie's story. There will be a sneak peek of her story in the back of Naked Edge.

I don't have a title for her book yet, but I do know her hero's name: Zac McBride. I don't want to steal Gabe's thunder by saying too much about Zac yet, but I will tell you that he's a Deputy Marshal with the U.S. Marshal Service. And much of their story takes place not in Denver but... in Mexico.

Oh ... Terminé de corrección de pruebas el segundo paso de ediciones copia en Naked Edge. Ese perrito está ahora oficialmente fuera de mis manos a punto de ir a la prensa.

Este fin de semana, mientras se celebraba una fiesta sorpresa de cumpleaños para Benjamin, quien ahora tiene 20, y hornear el pastel de cumpleaños y la alimentación de media docena de adolescentes, me las arreglé para inventar la historia de Natalie. Habrá una vista previa de su historia en la parte posterior de Naked Edge.

Yo no tengo un título para su libro todavía, pero sé el nombre de su héroe: Zac McBride. Yo no quiero robar el trueno de Gabe diciendo demasiado sobre Zac todavía, pero te diré que es un agente judicial con el Servicio de Alguaciles de EE.UU.. Y gran parte de su historia tiene lugar no en Denver, pero en ... México.


Still to come:
An interview with the delightful and brilliant Anna Campbell
A review of Kathleen Givens' historical novel Rivals for the Crown
Interviews with I-Team heroes, including an introduction to Gabe

Aún por venir:
Una entrevista con el anuncio delicioso brillante Anna Campbell
Una revisión de novela histórica Kathleen Givensrivales por la Corona
Entrevistas con I-héroes del equipo, incluyendo una introducción a Gabe


Para mis lectores de habla española:

Autoras en la Sombra dio una entrevista a mí que ya está disponible en su sitio Web. Estas maravillosas mujeres salieron de su manera de hacerme preguntas diversión. He disfrutado con él! Haga clic aquí para leer la entrevista.
Monday, November 16, 2009

Naked Edge wallpaper/Excerpt



I just had to share this right now. Jennifer Johnson made it for me this evening, and it will soon be up on my Web site as downloadable wallpaper beside the other fun wallpaper she's made for the I-Team series.

It won't be up online for a while, so if you just can't wait, email me and I'll send it to you.

Thanks, Jennifer!

I'm in the middle of a massive Web site update. There are many new foreign covers, as well as an excerpt from Naked Edge and the novel-length author's note. OK, it's not quite that long. It's only eight pages, but for an author's note, that's looooong. My editor read it and said, "It's a lot more than I expected but then you never do anything half way."

Work at the paper is ratcheting up for the holidays, and things are busy with this book even though I'm done writing it. I'm almost done proofing the second round of copy edits to make sure no one added mistakes to the book. In some places, the accents on the Navajo words were changed, which if you know anything about Navajo, is a big deal. So I'll get those fixed. And then the book will head off to the presses. Before long there will be Advanced Review Copies (ARCs), and I'll be holding contests here and on my Yahoo group to give some copies away.

For now, though, just wallpaper. And this excerpt...

Haha! Yes, it's torture time again!

From Naked Edge:


Geee-zus!


Gabe sucked in a breath, shocked by the blistering impact of Kat’s unexpected kiss, heat shearing through his gut at the first clumsy press of her lips against his. Even as his body responded, some part of his brain knew this shouldn’t be happening. “Kat, you’re upset and tipsy and—”

She kissed him again, tilting her head to better slant her mouth over his.

Christ!

He turned his face away, felt her lips brush his jaw. “Honey, you don’t really want this. You’ve just lost—”

She made a little sound of protest, her arms sliding behind his head, drawing his lips closer to hers, as if to show him that she did really want it.

Good. So did he.

Ignoring the pathetic warnings of his conscience, he took control of the kiss, drawing her tight against him, capturing her mouth with his.

God, she tasted sweet! She smelled sweet, too — like honey and woman. She gave a little whimper, melting against him in a way that was utterly feminine, every inch of her soft body molding to his, her breasts pressing against his ribs, her lips parting to give him access. He swirled his tongue over hers, felt her body tense. And through a pheromone fog, he realized she wasn’t just a virgin between her legs.

Kissing — real kissing — was new to her, too.

Not just virgin, buddy — extra virgin.

He reined himself in, gentled the kiss, slowed it down, brushing her lips lightly with his, teasing their outline with the tip of his tongue, nipping their fullness, his lust for her at war with some strange urge to protect her from himself. In his world, any night that started with kissing ended soon after with fucking. His cock had already risen to the occasion and strained painfully against his fly, looking for the surest route out of denim and into her. But that couldn’t happen — not tonight, not when she was vulnerable and afraid and hurting, probably not ever. She wanted happily ever after, and all he could give her was sex. Still, he could keep kissing her…

Hell, yeah.

He claimed her mouth in a no-holds-barred kiss, penetrating deep, taking her tongue with his, sucking it into his mouth, biting down. She whimpered, kissed him back, meeting the strokes of his tongue with her own, her fingers curled in his hair, her body almost undulating against his, communicating in a primal language of its own, one Gabe’s body understood only too well.

Katherine James might want to save her virginity, but her body had other plans.

With a groan, he drew her beneath him, testosterone shorting out his brain, his body taking over, his blood running hot and fast. He found her throat and pressed his lips against the rapid beating of her pulse, kissing a path over soft, sweet skin, tasting her, nibbling her earlobe. And he wasn’t finished — not by a long shot.

Kat heard herself whimper and turned her head to the side, surrendering her throat to Gabe, the heat of his lips raising goose bumps on her skin, his male scent filling her head, the hard press of his body on top hers making her belly flutter.

She’d never felt anything like this, never even imagined it — the heat, the intensity, the overwhelming physical force of it. Her body trembled, and her heart raced, her breathing uneven as if she’d been running. And she was running — from her grief, from her fear, from everything that hurt. Some part of her knew this, but that only made her run faster.


The rules don’t apply tonight.


She didn’t stop him when he slid a callused hand beneath her sweater to trace tiny circles up her ribcage. She didn’t object when his clever fingers found the clasp of her bra between her breasts and unhooked it. And when he cupped her left breast, when his thumb flicked her nipple...

She gasped, stunned, the sensation too astonishing, too arousing, too wonderful to be real. Jagged shafts of heat seemed to shoot straight from her breast to her belly, turning to liquid between her thighs.

“You like that, don’t you?”

At the husky sound of his voice, her eyes flew open. She found him looking down at her, his breathing as rough as hers, his blue eyes burning, a smile on his wet lips. She forced herself to hold his gaze, shocked by the intimacy of watching him as he watched her, as he watched the effect his touch had on her, his hand still cupping and shaping her breast, his thumb tracing lazy circles over its aching crest.

And the heat in her belly became a wildfire.

Then he pushed her sweater up, baring her breasts, his gaze raking hungrily over her. “God, Kat, honey, you’ve got beautiful breasts. They’re so… Mmm.

Whatever he’d been about to say became a moan as he ducked down and drew one of her nipples into the scorching heat of his mouth.

“Gabe.” Kat’s body jerked at the initial shock of it, the pleasure staggering as he suckled first one nipple and then the other, tugging at her with his lips, teasing her with velvet strokes of his tongue, tormenting her with nips of his teeth. It was sweet, so sweet, and terrible, too, the fire between her thighs now a throbbing ache. She heard herself calling his name, felt her hips lifting toward him, wanting, wanting…

Wanting him.

He groaned, settled his weight between her thighs, and answered her need, grinding what could only be the thick ridge of his erection against her… there. Slowly, so slowly he moved against her, taking the edge off the ache, only to make it so much worse. She was wet, the emptiness inside her burning, her inner muscles clenching around nothing. And she knew.

If he kept going, if he pressed her, she wouldn’t be able to stop him. She wouldn’t want to.

Gabe’s body was strung so tightly he thought it might snap. He’d been a damned idiot to take it this far. He’d wanted to give her the comfort she so obviously needed, and one thing had let to another. Or that’s what he’d told himself. In truth, he’d wanted to kiss her and hold her — and so he had.

He needed to stop. But how could he when Kat was coming apart in his arms, her response burning him up? Her little mewls and whimpers were driving him out of his mind, her wine-dark nipples drawn into tight buds that begged for his mouth, her hips moving in a way that was both feminine and undeniably erotic. He didn’t want to stop — oh, hell, no! He wanted to fuck her long and hard. He wanted to make her come again and again. He wanted to forget himself inside her.

And then what, buddy? You’ll pluck her sweet cherry and show her the door? She deserves better than that, and you damned well know it.

Gabe dragged his lips from hers, forced his hips to hold still, sexual need grinding in his gut, blood pounding through his veins. “Kat.”

She looked up at him, so beautiful it made his chest ache, confusion and longing in those hazel green eyes, tear stains on her cheeks, her lips red and swollen, her delicious breasts rising and falling with each rapid breath — no makeup, no silicon, nothing but sweet, soft, sexually aroused woman.

He fought the urge, so elemental, to kiss her again and settled for running his knuckles over her cheek. Somehow, he managed to string a few words together. “If I don’t stop now, honey, we’re going to be at this all night.”
(c) 2009 Pamela Clare
----------

Kat is the first contemporary heroine I've written as a virgin — and for reasons that become apparent in the story. It was an interesting experience. But more on that in another post. I have pages to copy edit!
Friday, November 13, 2009

Captive of Sin



I finished ghostwriting last weekend, and I wrote the author's note for Naked Edge, which meant that for the first time in ages I had time to... READ!

In the last poll I conducted, it's clear that I'm not the only one who chooses reading as my main way of relaxing. Some 70 percent of you do the same. Nothing else even came close. Television follows behind at a measly 13 percent, with goofing off on the Internet garnering 10 percent of the vote.

Reading wins in a landslide!

I love to read. I love to snuggle up with a book and disappear from this world for hours on end so that I forget what's going on in life entirely. It's something I used to do all the time before I started writing books. Now, I rarely have the time.

At the top of my pile was Captive of Sin, by the lovely and gracious Anna Campbell. An Australian author who's making a big impact, she's also an incredibly nice person.

I chose her book because it had just arrived at my door and because I'd heard so much buzz on it. The thing that really clinched it for me were the Amazon comments, which revealed a key plot element that I knew I would love: the hero finds the heroine, battered, weak and exhausted, and in desperate need of protection.

Here's the blurb from the back:

He pledged his honor to keep her safe . . .

Returning home to Cornwall after an unspeakable tragedy, Sir Gideon Trevithick comes upon a defiant beauty in danger and vows to protect her whatever the cost. He's dismayed to discover that she's none other than Lady Charis Weston, England's wealthiest heiress—and that the only way to save her from the violent stepbrothers determined to steal her fortune is to wed her himself! Now Gideon must hide the dark secrets of his life from the bride he desires more with every heartbeat.

She promised to show him how to love — and desire — again . . .

Charis has heard all about Gideon, the dangerously handsome hero with the mysterious past. She's grateful for his help but utterly unwilling to endure a marriage of convenience — especially to a man whose touch leaves her breathless. Desperate to drive him mad with passion, she would do anything to make Gideon lose control — and fall captive to irresistible, undeniable sin.




I read the book in two evenings after work, staying awake far too late and relishing every second. Anna Campbell is a new author for me. I'd previously read Tempt the Devil, which I very much enjoyed, and for many of the same reasons I enjoyed Captive of Sin.

As many of you know, I'm not a huge fan of Regency romances. Too often they feel like cookie-cutter, wallpaper romances. Lords, ladies, parties, gowns, the ton... That isn't to be critical of anyone who loves to read Regency romances. To each her own, I say. We all have our own preferences. But I've never gotten in to that period. I guess I don't much care what society thinks today, so reading stories about people trying to fit in to society 200 years ago just isn't interesting to me. Plus, I like stories that have a bit of grit and some real emotional depth.

This story has all of that.

Gideon, the hero, has suffered unspeakable torment and is returning home, when he encounters Lady Charis. Battered but still defiant, Charis doesn't trust Gideon at first; still, she really has no choice but to accept his help. The two of them begin a journey toward mutual trust that also results in healing for Gideon that he never thought he'd have. For him, his decision to risk himself to protect Charis, based in part on his belief that his life is actually more or less over, results in nothing less than a miracle of healing for him.

There are so many moments in the story where Anna demonstrates her superior storytelling ability, moments where some authors would have used a misunderstanding to create overly dramatic conflict between Gideon and Charis, i.e, the Big Misunderstanding. Anna doesn't do that, instead relying on her characters' intelligence and compassion to work through those minor glitches with no problem so that they stay focused on the real conflict facing them.

The sex is realistic and also very hot. And there's an element of romance to the story that never ebbs. For me, the story maintained its magic from the beginning through the end. I fell in love with Gideon. What a wonderful hero! And truly a hero, in every sense of the word, both before and after he meets Charis.

It's kind of funny because being an author means I have a different relationship with books — and other authors — than the average reader. It's easier for me to get in touch with authors and talk with them behind the scenes. Anna and I sort of discovered each other's books (thanks to a variety of blogs out there) over this past year. Though we have very different writing styles, there's a common thread in our writing, which we have noticed, that involves a bit of grit, some real pain and suffering in our characters' lives, and a willingness to go into the darkness of that suffering.

One author coined the term "Regency noir" for Anna, and I think that's very apt. It's that difference in tone — and her willingness to explore her characters' dark places in a deeper way — that endears her writing to me. Plus, being an Aussie, she manages the British-ness of the period quite deftly. It feels very authentic to me.

In short, I loved it! I have two more books of hers in my TBR pile — it's actually a bookshelf, not a pile — and I look forward to reading them.

Soon I hope to have Anna as a guest on my blog. I'll whip out my reporter’s notebook and interview her and share the interview here.

In the meantime, I've got big plans to get organized, clean my house, and write a proposal for Natalie's story, the next I-Team book. Then I'll move on to writing my next novel, which I hope (for once) to finish quickly.

We're supposed to get snow here, which makes me happy.

With the holidays coming up, I suppose everyone is very busy. I hope you get time to relax. When you do, what books will you be reaching for next?

Next up: I'll talk about Kathleen Givens' Rivals for the Crown. Then we'll interview some I-Team heroes, including Gabe, the hero from Naked Edge.
Thursday, November 05, 2009

Fort Hood & Veteran's Day



My heart and prayers go out to the families of those killed in today's attack at Fort Hood. I can't imagine their grief. As the investigation unfolds in the coming weeks, I hope we'll come to understand why the shooter was still in the Army and not already given the boot for poor performance. Based on what I read on the news wire before coming home, there were many reasons he could have been discharged prior to today's massacre.

It's so senseless and terrible.

On Wednesday, we observe Veteran's Day. The holiday began as Armistice Day, an observation of the armistice that ended World War I, the war that was supposed to end all wars. Well, we all know how that turned out. Now, the day is called Veteran's Day in the U.S.

My family has had someone (or even more than one person) serve in every war since the French and Indian War up through the Vietnam War. My mother's father served in the Navy during WWII, and she had an uncle who died at Pearl Harbor on the U.S.S. Utah. He'd been married for a week and had just gotten back from a very short honeymoon with his bride, who became a widow faster than she could possibly have imagined. I've always found that to be very sad.

Tell me about the veterans in your families.

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Favorite Writing Quotes


"I am an artist. I am here to live out loud."
—Emile Zola

"I am tomorrow, or some future day, what I establish today. I am today what I established yesterday or some previous day."
—James Joyce

"Let other pens dwell on guilt and misery."
—Jane Austen

"Writers are those for whom writing is more difficult that it is for others."
—Ernest Hemingway

"When I write, I feel like an armless, legless man with a crayon in his mouth."
—Kurt Vonnegut

"The ability of writers to imagine what is not the self, to familiarize the strange and mystify the familiar is the test of their power."
—Toni Morrison

"No tears in the author, no tears in the reader."
—Robert Frost.

"I'm a writer. I give the truth scope."
—the character of Chaucer in
A Knight's Tale