The cover as it appeared on the book.

Why in the world would I want to waste time chatting about a book that's been out for more than a year? Well, first of all, it's a RITA finalist, which is really exciting. Secondly, I just finished reading it in preparation for writing Untamed, the next book in the MacKinnon's Rangers series. But thirdly, it's my bloody blog and I can.

I've had a love/hate relationship with this novel. The love comes from what I feel for the entire cast of characters — Annie, Iain, Morgan, Connor, Captain Joseph, Killy, Cam, Dougie, McHugh, Lieutenant Cooke and, yes, Lord William Wentworth. I love and cherish them all. The hate comes from the struggle I experienced trying to write this book, unequaled except now perhaps by Unlawful Contact.

I missed my deadline by months on this book because I got stuck several times and because I was convinced it was crap. When I sent it to my editor, I called just to warn her and said, "This is the worst piece of crap you've ever gotten from me." I don't know why I feel that way except that it must be part of my writing pathology. (Those of you who've read stuff while I'm writing it — you're a small list of very patient people — might agree.) I'm always convinced that whatever I'm writing sucks. I didn't feel that way with Sweet Release or Extreme Exposure or Ride the Fire, which was grueling for other reasons and which, until maybe this week I considered to be my best novel. But that is neither here nor there...

So I turned in Surrender, and my agent and editor surprised me by saying they loved it. But I haven't touched it since it came out, and I haven't read it since I was proofing galleys, when my negative impressions were reinforced. Dial 1-800-Writer-Shrink. What can I say?

So it was a thrill to sit down and read it now so many months later and discover that I loved it. Yes, I loved it. It felt like someone else had written it. I'd forgotten enough for the entire thing to feel fresh to me. I found myself wondering where I'd gotten all the Scottish vocabulary — through hard and constant research, of course — and I found myself falling in love with Iain and his brothers all over again.


An intermediate stage. Notice the lack of shirt and the long hair. But why are there tipis? I said no tipis!

I asked you all to email me and share your favorite moments from the story so that I could compare them with mine. I got several fun emails today, and I cherished each one. I learned your favorite moments overlap largely with mine. So you've shared yours; now I'll share mine.

Annie flees the Abenaki and is saved by Iain: I felt like I knew everything I needed to know about Annie when she faced down the man who was about to rape and kill her. "You dinnae have me yet!" And, of course, I love that Iain can't let her die, even if it means death for him and his men. As he later tells Wentworth, "I could no more have left her to be killed than I could have slain her myself."

The flogging: The whole thing from the scene in the guardhouse to Iain walking through the camp with grin on his face. "I hear you had a bit of a collieshangie in the night. Sorry to wake you so early." I love the way he kisses Annie and how he insists on taking the full 100 lashes. I love the way Annie forces herself to watch each one.

Annie's relationship with Lord Wentworth: I loved all the scenes with Wentworth in them. They were so fun to write, because Wentworth is such a complicated fun character. He's smart. He's cruel. But he's not evil. The chess game, the dinner party, all of it was so fun.

The sweatlodge scene: The fight prior to Annie's near-death experience in the river was fun, too. "Or was that someone else's tongue in my mouth?" Iain is such a baaaad boy. The sweatlodge scene was tricky in some respects -- trying to tell the story and not be disrespectful at the same time.







The original art, which is quite lovely. Nathan Kamp is just hot. But the short hair and waaay too much clothing made me think "men's camping novel," not romance. It was back to the drawing board — sort of. Click on any of these images for detail.

Captain Joseph meets Annie: "She hasna met an Indian who wasna tryin' to kill her," Connor explains. I laughed when I read that.

Connor saves Annie: I have a soft spot for that brat of a MacKinnon. I had to be careful not to let him steal every scene from Morgan. But I loved it when he aimed at that bastard soldier's head and said, "You Regulars have trouble hittin' marks, aye? We Rangers dinnae miss."

The first love scene: "Do you ken the history of the Highlands, Annie?" As Bo once said, "That's Iain MacKinnon at his barbarian best." I knew that scene pushed some boundaries, but I just loved seeing him pushed to the edge and then, in turn, pushing her to the edge.

The shaving scene: SueZ mentioned this one. I had so many emails from people who loved that scene and who couldn't believe I'd put it into a historical.

Father Delavay trying to teach Catholicism to Rangers: The scene where he tries to explain the Immaculate Conception amused me greatly when I wrote it. "She got a big belly wi'out the mess of a man's spunk." "No, you silly Scot!"

The wedding: "Marry me now, here, in this place — while we have time." The idea that Iain might be killed in battle at any time made their relationship so vulnerable. That sense of time as being precious really fueled their relationship for the latter part of the book.

Checkmate: When Lord Wentworth tries to "betray" Annie to the Rangers, only to find out they know her real name and that Iain has purchased her indenture. "Well played, Major." Haha, Wentworth, you randy bastard!

When Iain kisses Annie's pregnant tummy: Oh, yeah. I cried. I'm a sap.

A couple of you mentioned the scene where Annie has Iain by her side when their son is born and says: "You've seen so much death. Now see life..." For me, that moment was a chance for Iain to redeem so much of the joy he'd lost.

And the two that stand out for me more than the others:

When Iain saves Annie from Uncle Bain: "You've never met a man like me." The image of him standing in the road wearing a plaidie, carrying a broadsword and painted with Indian designs and vermillion instead of blue Celtic paint was in my mind for ages. It was quintessential Iain, the strength of the Scots in America represented in one moment.

And when the Rangers rebuild the farm as a way of saying farewell to Iain: This scene was in my head from the beginning of the story, and I didn't even let myself think it because it made me sob. When I finally reached that scene, and the men told their stories about how Iain had saved them and Dougie started up the chant, "MacKinnon! MacKinnon! MacKinnon!" OMG! I was bawling the entire time I wrote that scene. Truly bawling my eyes out. Iain was such an honorable and selfless man that the payoff had to be big. I hope it took you by surprise and meant as much to you as it did to me.

I spent a week working on the last two paragraphs of the story. A week. I'm not kidding. I hope that last page resonated with people — about feeling sadness and great happiness together and not being able to feel one without risking the other. A week! Sheesh!

Well, now Surrender is out of stock at the publisher and backordered nationally by all the big booksellers. It's very hard to find, but they're going to print more in time for RWA's book signing. I'm hoping for a new cover and a rerelease to coincide with the release of Morgan's story.

I am listening to Celtic music again. I haven't let myself do that since I finished Surrender. My editor would understand that that means: My brain is switching to historical mode. If you made it to the end of this very long post, thanks for indulging me!

Never let it be said that I'm a tease...

In this scene, Marc has managed to escape the police who were hot on his tail after using Sophie as a hostage to break out of prison. He hasn't refreshed Sophie's memory, and she still doesn't recognize him. He had broken into a sporting good store high in the mountains for gear to help him make his final getaway, leaving Sophie handcuffed inside her own car, which he used to get away from the prison. But Sophie, still afraid he might kill her, has done a few desperate things to escape, and those things have backfired on her in a very dangerous way...

From Chapter 4 of Unlawful Contact

Marc stepped outside, sucked cold, fresh air into his lungs, savoring the shock, the chill, the scent of it. Wind-driven snow pricked his cheeks and forehead, caught in his beard, sand-blasting the lingering stench of prison from his skin. He couldn’t have gotten better weather if he’d asked for it. The storm would delay the cops, cover his tracks, make it almost impossible for search teams to pick up his trail. By sunrise tomorrow, he’d be free and clear.

Of course, anything could happen.

He rounded the corner, stopped in his tracks. “Oh, for fuck’s sake!”

Sophie lay sprawled in the snow beside the open car door, struggling clumsily to get upright, arms stretched over her head, her wrists still cuffed to the door handle.

He reached her in two long strides, dropped the pack on the ground, and knelt beside her, fear kicking him hard in the gut. “How in the hell did you manage this?”

Apart from a fresh bruise on her cheek, her face was deathly pale. She shivered violently, snowflakes on her skin and lashes, her wrists badly bruised, her fingers bloodless. But when she looked at him, her eyes spat fire. “B-bastard!”

At least she was conscious and aware and cussing.

“Save the name-calling for later, sweetheart.” He covered her with the parka he’d stolen for her and shoved a hat over her head to preserve whatever body heat he could, then dug in his pack for the pocket knife, knowing he had to get her warm if he wanted to save her life. “Right now, you have bigger problems.”

He flipped to one of the attachments on the pocket knife—a thin metal blade—and jimmied it into the tiny space beside the teeth of the handcuffs, forcing back the internal locking mechanism, freeing first her right wrist and then her left. Then he slipped his arm beneath her shoulders and eased her to a sitting position.

Furious with her, even angrier with himself, it was all he could do not to shout. “Do you realize how fucking stupid this was? Jesus, Sophie! Are you trying to kill yourself?”

She tried to push him away, her motions sluggish and weak. “I-I forgot. K-killing m-me is y-your job.”

“Don’t tempt me!” He stuffed her arms into the sleeves of the stolen parka, then dug in the pack for one of the emergency hand warmers. “Can you stand?”

“Y-yes.” But she didn’t budge.

“Damn it!” He lifted her off the snowy ground, buckled her in the passenger seat, then activated the emergency warmer and slipped it inside her parka. “Stay awake, do you hear me? Watching you die is not on my list of things to do tonight!”

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Tomorrow's blog: Email me your favorite moments from Surrender. I'm reading it now, and I'm going to post my favorite excerpts. Let's see how we compare — yours vs. mine. Plus I'll share the unpublished art that preceded the cover that eventually went onto the book and you can vote as to which version you like best.

I'm going to post these relatively small, but they are clickable if you wish to enlarge them...


This is the view I see every day and have seen almost every day of my life. This is Bear Peak. You can see that it snowed above 8,000 feet. I've been on the summit a few times. It's part of the foothills that frame Boulder, part of our city's backdrop. My office is much closer to it, about a two-minute drive from the base of the mountain.


This is Green Mountain. The big slabs of red sandstone are the Flatirons. From right to left the very largest are known by numbers: The First Flatiron, the Second Flatiron, the famous Third Flatiron in the middle (lots of folks die climbing this), the Fourth Flatiron and the Fifth Flatirion (the pointy one). I've been on top Green Mountain a lot. I used to like to climb it year round before going to work. In the winter, I had to wear crampons. Not to be confused with tampons.


This is my wonderful son Ben holding the corsage he'll give to his date in a few minutes.



Ben and Liz pose for photos for pesky parents.


The Humvee stretch limo arrives.


Ben helps Liz get inside.



Ben and his beautiful date Liz inside the limo.

It must be my year to be a finalist. I was just notified that my series about AIDS is finalist for a national award from the Association of Alternative Newsweeklies.

I spent five months researching the article, which attempted to get down for the first time the history of Boulder County's response to the AIDS epidemic. It was one of the most intense stories I've done because of the personal tragedy and loss and heartbreak involved. At times during interviews, I found myself having to mute my phone so that the people I was interviewing couldn't hear me crying. My heart went out to the parents who'd lost sons, to the women who'd contracted HIV from men, to the children left without fathers, mothers, brothers and sisters due to this terrible illness, to young gay men who faced not only a fatal disease but the hatred of society.

The story ran in five parts over a period of six weeks, each installment telling another piece of the story. By the time it was done, I was very drained, but I also felt very blessed to have met men and women who seem to me to be heroes — the first doctor to treat AIDS in our county (for a long time the ONLY doctor; people whose sense of injustice led them to fight for gay men with AIDS so that these men could have health care and housing; people who donated time and money and came up with creative solutions for the problems inflicted by AIDS. These people are saints in my book.

I'm going to be a guest at the annual AIDS Project fundraiser dinner this summer, and I'm really looking forward to that. In the meantime, the AAN conference/awards is in June.

In other news: Ben and Liz made it back from prom alive and look exhausted. They had fun, it seems, though I haven't gotten a full report. And they were so gorgeous together! I don't have photos back yet, so I'll just have to wait to post.

I might be back with an excerpt later, but I'm in a rotten mood and behind on my writing -- the former the result of the latter. I lost my writing mojo for a while this weekend after someone close to me made some unsupportive comments about my writing career. When I'm down, I just can't write. Then I get angry at myself for not writing. And that's where I am now, although it was cheering to talk with RBL's Frances for the first time.

Have a great Sunday.

Morgan MacKinnon might wear leather breeches and have longer hair, but when he's bound in Fort Carillon's guardhouse, he'll look something like this...

Well, after that last post my life devolved into a nonstop migraine. After five days, I was about ready to lop my head off with a sword. "There can be only one!" (I actually said this outloud while contemplating the benefits of being headless.)

I got a very, very painful massage yesterday and feel sore but better today.

Somehow I managed to get Chapter 29 done last weekend. And now I'm starting Chapter 30. This book, unlike all of my others, will have 31 chapters plus an epilogue. So I'm officially in the homestretch. Chapter 30 contains the last part of the climax — that moment when all seems truly lost. Then Chapter 31 will take us into denouement and resolution. And the real payoff comes in the epilogue.

It's probably going to be the longest book I've written — about 430 pages. I'm hoping and praying my editor won't make me cut. We'll see... Keep your fingers crossed!

Tonight is prom. I'll have pictures of my handsome son and his lovely date soon. They're heading to prom with all of their friends in a Humvee stretch limo. Eighteen kids in one vehicle. At least they'll be safe.



I'm reading Surrender right now trying to get my mind moving back toward Fort Elizabeth and those sexy MacKinnon brothers. I have to say, I'm actually enjoying the story. I haven't really been able to open the book since it came out, so this is very strange. It's almost like reading someone else's book. Every once in a while, I find myself thinking, "I wrote this?"




I'm thinking it's time for an excerpt... But I'll save that for tomorrow. Any requests?