Fog City Divas chatting about my experience at a dance recital the other night.

K*

Okay so a couple of things going on today. I’m splitting time between Murder She Writes (I’m giving away a really nice prezzy) and Fog City Divas. Diva Bella Andre asked my ITALIAN STALLION antho partner Jami Alden and I few questions about the book. We had fun with the answers.

C’mon over.

K*

Hits the shelves!!! I could not be happier or more excited!!!

The Blood Sword Legacy, begins!

Bound by a brotherhood forged in the hell of a Saracen prison,
eight Blood Swords — mercenary knights for William the
Conqueror — set out to claim their legacies the only way they can:
by right of arms, by right of victory, by right of conquest.

Excerpt

“Prepare for entry!” Rohan called to his men. “The timber gives!”

Thorin, Ioan, Wulfson and Rorick hurled the thick oak trunk for the death blow. Rhys, Stefan and Warner wielded its twin. In unison, the two battering rams slammed into the door, and the timber gave way, opening with a sickening screech. Rohan spurred Mordred forward, and crashed through the crippled remnants of the Saxon’s defense.

Shield raised and sword at the ready, he maneuvered the huge destrier with his legs into the wide open space of the hall. His body tensed in preparation of a full out assault. Instead the sight that greeted him shocked him.

A lone maid, the one who had so brashly challenged him from the tower, stood in the middle of the great hall. A broadsword at her feet, a dagger clutched tightly to her breast. His eyes instantly moved past her to the wide stairway leading to the chambers above. His men fanned out behind him on foot. Rohan urged his horse past the girl and up the wide stairway, the shod hooves making a sharp clicking sound on the stone. He moved down the narrow hallway, certain to find the villagers laying in wait to war against him. Instead, eerie silence met him. Aye, the cowards hid behind the bolted doors allowing a mere maid to see to their rescue. Rohan sneered contemptuously.

He pulled back on the reins, and Morderd backed up. Rohan allowed the black to move at his own pace down the treacherous stone steps. The woman stood tall and proud before him.
He stopped several strides from her. If she moved, Mordred’s spiked leg armor would shred her in half. His blood ran hot in his veins, and it occurred to him, to waste such beauty would be a tragedy. She was no taller than a young lad. Long golden-colored hair hung wildly around her face and shoulders, reaching down to the full swell of her hips. Eyes the uncommon color of heather in first bloom, framed by thick black lashes stared defiantly up at him. Her skin was the color of fresh churned cream. Her cheeks rosy from the chill in the air and, he guessed, from his unwelcome visit. His eyes scanned lower to a full bosom that heaved in her anger. He could already feel the full swell of it beneath his hands, and the soft thrust of her hips as they met his with passion. The spoils of war were gracious this day. He would enjoy her whilst he could. For tomorrow may find him riding the horizon at his liege’s call. He nodded acknowledging her.

“Bow to your new master,” he commanded in French.

“I will never bow to you,” she hotly replied.

Rohan nodded and looked to his men, who flanked the walls swords at the ready. They waited only for his word to go deeper into the hall and ferret out the hiding Saxons.

Slowly Rohan dismounted.

Isabel’s breath caught high in her throat as the devil himself strode toward her. All sound stopped, the world grinded to a halt. Tawny gold eyes glittered from behind the black metal helmet. The nose guard split his face in two, making his look all the more menacing. A crescent shaped scar marred his chin. He was huge. Larger than any man she had come across in her nearly two score years. His shoulders were as wide as one half the width of the double oak portal. Legs thick as oak supported a wide chest bearing black mail and black surcoat. She stared at the marking emblazoned on his chest. The black sword plunging through a skull, crimson drops of blood hung from the sword tip. His shield bore no coat of arms. The fate of his kind. The rumors called him bastard nephew to William’s mother.

The French called him la lame noir, the English the black sword.

Her blood ran cold, turning her skin frosty. It was true. The black knight and his death squad behind him were notorious for their skill at killing. Isabel dared look past him to the equally notorious knights, in search of the ebony giant who it was rumored could slay a dozen men with one swipe of his sword.
The black sword’s lips twisted into a deadly smile. She felt as helpless as a mouse in the jaws of a stable cat. Yet she stood firm, refusing to back down.

K*

so good to me,
Monday Monday, it was all I hoped it would be
Oh Monday morning, Monday morning couldn’t guarantee
That Monday evening you would still be here with me.
(courtesy of The Mamas and the Papas)

Yep, it’s Monday again, and I’m in for another long haul writing week, release week (Yay! MASTER OF SURRENDER hits bookshelves in a book store near you Tuesday!) and another round of guest blogging. Tuesday will find me at one of my most favoritest blog spots, Magical Musings, Thursday I’ll be chattin’ over at Love Is An Exploding Cigar, a bunch of fabo authors hang out over there, I’m looking forward to both. And of course, I’ll be hanging out in my usual spot on Fridays over at Murder She Writes, so come hang with me for the ride!

No It’s Just Business Tuesday this week, but I promise next week we’ll be back on schedule.

Ciao, chicas,

K*

I know I said I’d post a It’s Just Business Q&A Thursday but the day got way out of control. Not sure if I’ll do it next week or not. MASTER OF SURRENDER releases Tuesday and I am trying very hard to wrap up MASTER OF TORMENT by the end of the month. I’ll be here, but just not really having to think much. Plus I have a few guest blog appearances next week. I’ll give you all a heads up Monday if you’d like to pop in and harass me.

Okay so I said I’d draw a name from the Release Day! commenters. And the winner is! Marcia Marcia Marcia! You win the $15 BN gift certificate and uber bookmarks. Email me at karin@karintabke.com with your snail mail addy and I’ll get it right out to you! And enjoy!

And as every Friday, c’mon over to Murder She Writes. It’s my day to chat.

Have a good weekend everyone. I’m going to be hunkered down with the laptop.

K*

Yippy Skippy!! JADED releases today!

See cover in right side bar (I can’t figure out how to put a j.peg in the blog)

I. LOVE. THIS. BOOK!!!

For those of you who have read the previous two hot cop books this is Jase’s story, and boy, oh, boy does he deliver. I fell in love with him when I wrote this story, and the lady that brings him to his knees, Jade Devereaux, is my favorite contemporary heroine to date. She is an incredible woman. These two tortured souls managed to find each other in the ugliness of life and at their darkest hour make that final crucial connection. I’m very proud of these two. They are brave and passionate and I am so happy they found each other. But it was not easy. Not when the universe and skeletons it the closet conspire to keep happiness at bay.

Here’s a teeny tiny excerpt:

Jase turned back to the soft click of the other door handle.
The creature that emerged struck him dumb. Literally. He could not have formed a coherent word and spoken at that instant even if the fate of the free world hung in the balance. His body instantaneously warmed and his stomach did a slow, hard roll, then another. Her sultry musky scent infiltrated his senses and attacked him like a lethal virus. His mouth went dry.

Holy Mother.

Big jade-colored eyes that slanted upward at the corners reminded him of a feral cat. A sleek, black feral cat. Boldly, she stared unwaveringly at him. Her cool indifference was unsettling. Straight hair so black it almost looked blue hung like a veil around her heart-shaped face. The delicate nostrils of her short aquiline nose flared, and her ruby red lips parted just enough to reveal brilliant white teeth.

Jase couldn’t help it. His eyes traveled from her ethereal face down that long slender neck to breasts so full and creamy they reminded him of caramel apples. He bet they were fake. They had to be. She wasn’t wearing a bra, her nipples stiffened as he stared, and he knew for tits that perfect to sit up that firm and that high they had to have had some help.

She extended a slender hand, the nails perfectly manicured and real, not those fake red claw jobs the hookers favored.

“Sergeant Vaughn? Jade Devereaux, proprietress of Callahan’s. How may I help you?”

You can help me by relieving this boner.

Okay, so whoever wants a $15 BN gift card and a JADED bookmark (and they are stellar) just comment today or tomorrow, even if it’s just to say hey, and I’ll draw a name Friday.

Ciao,

K*

And PS I’ll do a It’s Just Business post on Thursday. I want to bas I the glow of JADED for a couple of days.

PPSS! I’ll be hanging out with the ladies over at Riding With The Top Down tomorrow!

over at the Divas.

K*

Over at Murder She Writes!

K*

and hey, speaking of my Street Team why not join now?! It’ll be fun, I promise, ya!

KarinsStreetTeam-subscribe@yahoogroups.com and THANK YOU!!

I’m their guest today chatting about Street Teams. Check it out: Writer Unboxed.

But let’s still keep the conversation going on the It’s Just Business Tuesday post.

K*

Regarding editors: would you say it’s best to utilize the same rules as pertains to agents? Example: I worked with an editor recently; she made suggestions, suggestions in the context of, “This is how I want the book written.” When I wanted to discuss and comprise on some of her suggestions I was told, “No.”

Well, that response seems a bit extreme to me. But, I will say this up front and elaborate a bit: Editors, good editors know their shit. Some editors edit, some don’t, and then there is everything in between. I am very fortunate that my Pocket editor is probably one of the best in the biz. As many of you may remember, she didn’t have revisions for MASTER OF SURRENDER she tossed the entire book and made me completely rewrite it! She doesn’t just say, “I hate it,” then skip off. No, we have many long conversations about why and how to fix. Sometimes, as in that case, a completely new story was in order. There was nothing much to salvage of the original. Don’t get me wrong, there have been a few battles, but my editor will say, “Convince me.” And I do my damnest. I haven’t won very battle, and in the end my editor was right. But, I am learning, and I also know everything is negotiable, to a point.

Now, does that mean good editors have the final say? Well, I happen to trust my editor and I would have to say I would more than likely acquiesce to her experience and intuition then fight for something she is adamantly opposed to.

I think to work successfully with an editor there has to be simpatico, and harmony. The editor, as your agent, should love your voice and your stories. Your editor is your advocate in the publishing house, and if she is excited about her author then she will garner excitement from within, and that is a very good thing.

Look, I’ve heard the horror stories about how some editors are unbending, and while I believe it, I wonder if the author may be as unwilling to compromise, which brings us to an impasse. If you get a label as difficult, especially if you are staring out, you may just kill a good thing in the making.

Now, as far as acquiring an editor, it isn’t the same as agent shopping. When you sell to a certain house, you sell to that particular editor. But, let’s say you have a Cracker Jack agent and she says, “I know so and so at such and such publisher will snatch this up,” and you cringe because for whatever reason there has been no love lost between you and this particular editor. My advice? Let your agent know right up front what happened, and with her experience she will decide what is best to do.

There are lots of bad author editor fits, and again, a good agent will know best how to deal with this situation.

Hope that answered your question. Anyone else?

K*