Okay, so an interesting night.  But first, just in case you missed it (snerk) Steve Woz and Holly were eliminated from DWTS tonight.  Yeah, I know, surprise surprise.

Now on to AI!

Anoop Dawg.  Hmm What did he sing?  Whatever it was, it was meh.  Oh, according to Randy it was an Usher song.  Um, I don’t listen to Usher.  So Kara didn’t like it, Paula did, go figure, Simon says! “A complete and utter mess…It gave me a headache.”  Yeah, it was pretty bad.

Megan looked great and sang, of all things a Bob Marley song!  Okay, so she has this wonderfully unique voice, and I wasn’t all that displeased by her performance.  Hubby liked it.  And the judges?  Kara, not happy.  Paula, “Dig deep.”  Simon, ah Simon, “Boring, indulgent and monotonous.”  How do you really feel?  And then Randy closed that bad sore with, “It was like watching paint dry.”  Yowch.

Danny sang What Hurts The Most.  I love Rascal Flats, and he did okay with this song, which I love. It was solid, and I wasn’t bowled over.   Paula loved it. Simon said it was the best performance so far (which ain’t sayin’ much). Randy said, “You brought it.  Crazy with the vocals.”  Kara said, “You moved everyone in this room with emotion.”  Hmm, I guess I missed something.

Alison.  Alison, Alison.  What were you thinking when you went to wardrobe this week?  Indescribable.  She sang, Don’t Speak.  I liked the guitar bit, and she sang the song ok, but I kind of got the impression she was trying too hard to manipulate her voice.  But she did good, especially that last riff.  Randy was nearly speechless with regard to the outfit.  I agree.  Kara, said, “Good but not your best.”  I nearly choked on my drink when Paula said, “I’m glad to see you brought your ax out.”  Pulleez.  Simon said, she looked like something out of the Adam’s family.  whimper.

Scott got a new do and a new look and I love it!  He sang Just The Way You Are.  I anticipated no range.  Bingo!  But not as bad as I thought and certainly better than last week.  He might squeak through another week.  Kara thought it was a smart song choice.  Paula said, she is most proud of him.  Randy said, “Best one tonight.”  And Simon said! “Your best performance by a country mile.”  Just how long is a country mile?

Matt sang You Found Me.  I knew it was going to tank like the Cold Play song tanked before he sang one word.  I guess he doesn’t get the ‘Play to your strengths’ thing.  Aaaaand the judges agreed.  Paula said, “You aborted the things we love about you.”  Randy shook his head.  “Wrong song.”  Kara said, “You need to commit to one side or the other.”  Simon said, “We don’t like you this week.”  Yowch.  “It felt very put on.  Not a good commercial song.” There you have it.  I think Matt might get eliminated tomorrow night.

Lil Rounds should not have been wearing that dress.  That’s all I’m sayin’.  She sang a Celine Dion song!  I really thought she was going to tank, and while it wasn’t great, she showed her range.  Randy said, “Not a good song choice.  But you sang it really well.”  Kara said, “I was surprised too, you can really hit those notes.”  Paula, blah.  Simon said, “I’m going to echo the others.  It was similar to a wedding performance.  All of your personality is being sucked out of you.”  True true true.  Her little girls were cute though.

Adam came out sans the black polish and I love the Elvis do!  He sang Play That Funky Music.  Not one of my fave songs and I was thinking, oh great we are regressing tonight.  But, he done good.  I quite enjoy watching him when he isn’t all girled out. He’s quite the entertainer and no matter what, that man has a huge future ahead of him.  I’m glad I like him now.  And the judges said:  Paula, oh for crying out loud, calm the hell down! Gush blah gush.  Simon said, “Very brave Adam.  It was original.” Randy said, “You are definitely in the star zone.”  And Kara said, “Every week I cannot wait to see what you’re going to do next.”  Now, I hope all of this does not go to Adam’s head.  Stay cool, Dawg.

So after Adam I figured that was it, until Ryan said something about Kris.  I kind of was like, whatever, but boy did I sit up and pay attention quick.  He sang Ain’t No Sunshine and nailed it.  I loved his rendition.  Randy said, “You have been slaying it, dude!”  Kara said, “That is artistry!” Paula gushed, “That could be the first cut for your album.”  Simon said, “Clever arrangement.  Your best so far.”

So, not a bad night.  My picks to go home are Anoop, Megan, Matt or Scotty.  Who do you think is going home?  And what your fave performance of the night??

Karin*

That’s how I look at Mondays.  The first day of the new week to take care of the crap I ignored last week.  And I ignored a lot.  I worked hard on my proposal, which I sent to my agent Saturday night.  I have promo material I have got to get done for CRAVING, which means a long boring visit with my printer.  But that will get done today.  I’m doing the requisite bookmarks.  I just can’t help myself. My guy does bee-u-tee-ful work.  I’m also going to do a chapter booklet.  I did one for SKIN and I really liked it, so I’m doing one for CRAVING.  Nothing ventured, nothing gained.  Besides, I have so much money to burn I figured what the hell!  (hah, not!)

I’m also going to tighten up the series blurb that will go with the proposal I sent my agent.  I’m hoping she emails me, no, calls me squeeing.  One can fantasize.  I just finished a book written by an ex CIA assassin, not an assassin for the CIA, but an agent who took it upon himself to clean up what the CIA refused to clean up.  It was very enlightening considering that is the entire premise of the proposal I just finished.  It was good to know I was on the mark factoid-wise. 

Other than that, life is marching along.  Pregnant daughter is still preggers and nauseous.  Funny how she uses it as an excuse to do absolutely nothing around here!  I’m giving her until week twelve, then I’ll be riding her butt to get back into the groove.  My oldest daughter seems to be really enjoying her computer classes, and she has helped me with a few things.  I see an assistant in my future.  J  Son number one is loving life and son number two is fighting it every step of the way.  Poor kid, one day soon, I hope he realizes it’s much easier to go along with the program then fight it, coz in the end, he knows what’s best for him but he’s so damn contrary.  Any of you with a kid like that?  It’s a good thing the boy is a love bug with a heart of gold or he’s be windshield splatter.  What is it with the last one? 

Alrighty then, I am off to get out of my jimmies, and get the Karin show on the road!  Have a great Monday everyone!

Karin*

Myspace, Twitter and now, Facebook!  I LOVE twitter.  And Facebook is growing on me.  You can friend me at www.facebook.com/karintabke.  To follow me on twitter go to www.twitter.com and search for KarinTabke  no space between the first and last name.

Of course, I needed another time suck! It would be different if I didn’t enjoy it all, but I do!  What I’m really enjoying is figuring stuff out. My cyber retardedness is dissipating.  And with my cyber IQ on the rise, I have a few new things planned for my blog, but I have to hone a few skills first. 

So, yesterday daughter number one came by to help me with some ‘puter stuff and as we were working at the kitchen table, daughter number two, the pregnant one, is standing at the island eating bacon and berry swirl sherbet.  Is that gross or what? 

Charlotte? What does that mean?  Protein and sweets in the same meal?????  Twins run on hubby’s side of the family.  I’ll know for sure next month when pregnant daughter has a sonogram if there is more than one in there.  Please pray there is only ONE!  I can’t handle twins!!! 

So, I really should be writing, and I really love what I’m producing, but well, I felt like chatting with you goils.  Anything good planned for the weekend?  Read anything exceptional lately?  I’m reading Shannon McKenna’s ULTIMATE WEAPON.  She is such a damn good writer!  You know who I haven’t read in awhile and I do so love her, is Linda Howard.  The last LH book I read was CRY NO MORE. I cried my freakin’ eyes out!  But I love that scene when the h/h pull the trigger together!  I was so afraid Linda was going to take the vanilla route in that scene.  I loved her even more when she didn’t.

So, give me some kick ass LH suggestions.  It’s not like I need more books to throw on my tbr pile, but Linda never disappoints.

There’s a MASTER OF CRAVING excerpt up on my books page if you’re remotely interested in reading it.

Okay, okay, I’m rambling. I’ll shut up and get back to my writing!

Ciao for now!

Karin*

Real quick, I wanted to let y’all know I’m chattin’ over at Hooked on Romance today.  C’mon over and say hello.

Now onto last night!

I love the Motown sound!  And who doesn’t love Smokey?  I met him once, yanno.  In Reno at the MGM Grand, he was eating apple pie with his wife.  He’s tall, and gracious.

Ok, so, my notes are sketchy, I was being lazy, but here goes!

Matt:  This music genre was perfect for him.  He sang Let’s Get It On, and he got it on!  I really enjoyed his sound and his vibe.  The judges agreed.  But dayum, Paula is long winded!

Then there was Kris or Chris: He sang How Sweet It Is.  It wasn’t.  Sorry was not impressed.  I took a pee break.  I was not nearly as impressed as the judges.

Scotty:  he is such a nice guy, but as he sang You Can’t Hurry Love, I realized what his predominate problem is. He has no range.  Must. Have. Range.  He should have gone last week and Alexis should have been singing last night.   Leave it to Simon to strike swift and deadly at the heart of the matter.

Megan: poor, dear. She sang, or attempted to sing, For Once In My Life. I saw that train wreck coming when she was practicing with Smokey.  I had to leave the room it sounded so horrible. If she could get votes for looking incredible she’s be the front runner, but alas she cannot. She will be eliminated tonight. 

Anoop Dawg!  I love this guy.  He sang one of my fave Smokey songs, Ooo, Baby, baby!  And oh baby baby did he nail it!  One of the best last night, but not the best.

Michael should not be on the stage.  But he was, and he sang…hell if I remember.

Lil Rounds sang Heat Wave, and I think she could have nailed it if she wasn’t so nervous.  You could hear it in her voice.  And she seemed to rush the song.  She has chops as Kara likes to say and she did okay.  PS, I thought she looked great!

Adam.  Hot freakin’ damn!  He looked incredible, and sounded, well, he is a star.  I know I haven’t; had his back much, not because he can’t sing, but his look, his vibe irritates me.  Last night we saw him as god created him, and wow.  I. LOVED. IT!  And his interpretation of Tracks Of My Tears.  Holy shit!  I sat there slack jawed.   He is my new fave, so long as he leaves the paint off his face and fingernails.

Danny sang Get Ready.  It seemed like it started too fast for me, and frankly, I was still giddy over Adam’s performance.  But I did enjoy Danny’s performance.

And last but certainly not least, Allison.  Boy can this girl sing.  She comes alive on that stage.  LOVED!  Papa Was A Rolling Stone. Perfect song choice.  Best female performance of the night by miles.

How’d you all like last night?

Karin*

So, DWTS is not floating my boat this year.  Not sure why.  Oh, maybe it has to do with the lack of celebrities with actual personalities?  Well, except for Steve Woz.  The other Steve. Meh.  Yeah, I felt bad for him when he slid and fell last night, but once a Jack Ass always a Jack Ass in my book.  I can’t root for Maks coz I can’t root for his partner.  Julianne?  I know her partner is her BF but they are boring. Lil Kim LT, Ty and the other blur into the wallpaper so-called celebs have left me feeling like I should be doing something else on Monday nights. 

The one shining spot to my Monday night television is Castle.  I almost stopped watching it the first night, coz, well it’s campy and over the top, but the Rick Castle character is addictive and so is his daughter and mother!  The chick cop?  Yawn.  But we’re not watching it because of her are we?  I am hooked.

I’m going to stop watching DWTS.  When I ask myself if I care who wins, the answer is a bored shrug.  Okay, I take that back.  I hope Shawn John wins. But I’m not going to invest the time to see if she does.  I need to write, so write I will in that Monday time slot.

I do have one guilty pleasure though:  Twitter.  It’s addictive.  If you want to follow me (and be forewarned, I can be as boring as the DWTS cast this year) just type in Karin Tabke and voila!

So, is anyone as bored with DWTS as I am?  And does anyone watch Castle?

Karin*

So I took four days off last week and it seems like it was a dream.  Where does the time go?  I managed to get a bunch of lose ends tied up.  Promo stuff, paid a few bills, caught up on computer work, did a little reading, and continued to battle this chest cold.  It’s really annoying.  The coughing. Argh. No pain, just that cough. 

My daughter is in the throes of some bad morning sickness that lasts most of the day.  Poor thing has been puking every morning. Gingerale helps, and so does the ginger tea, but she is pretty darn miserable.  I so remember those days.  When I was pregnant with her I was sick 24/7 and for the entire nine months. Certain smells made me run for the bathroom.  And she has the worst possible job a pregnant woman in her first trimester can have:  she works in a restaurant.  All of those smells.  Poor baby.  But I’m feeling good about her sickness.  It means there is a high level of hormones, and my doc always told me the sicker the mom-to-be the stronger the pregnancy.  So, my daughter is lookin’ good right now.  I didn’t realize until she started to get sick how much I was holding my breath.  I mean, I was thinking in the back of mind, what if she isn’t sick, will something be wrong?  I almost kept myself from getting too excited.

My son-in-law is too cute, he’s been feeling the same way.  We talked about it the other day and we both feel better.  He’s very excited.  He called yesterday and asked if he should bring my daughter home some flowers to make her feel better.  I said, “The way she’s feeling, she’ll smell them and puke on you.  Probably not.  Just rub her feet when she gets home.”  I’m glad they’re here, and glad I can take care of my kid.   I can not wait to get my hands on that baby!

Tomorrow I’m cooking up a huge pot of jambalya.  It’s hubby and son-in-law’s fave.  All the kids will be here, plus my in laws and my aunt and her hubby.  My fil is cooking corn pancakes for breakfast tomorrow.  Can not wait!  I gave up white carbs for Lent, but on Sundays you are free to resume normal biz.  So rice and pancakes for Karin tomorrow!!  Life is vera good.  J

Not much else going on. I miss the First Line Contest.  So much talent this year!  I hope hope hope Amy asks to see more of the entries then the first ten pages.  She is one of the toughest and best editors in New York, so to pique her interest is a coup.  I’m keeping everything crossed. 

I haven’t forgotten the Help Karin Think of a Good Grandma Name prize.  I just haven’t settled on what I want to be called yet.  I am leaning slightly toward Gram/Grammy.

So I think I’m going to go downstairs and stare at the cheese Danish I can’t eat, then go walk the dogs.

What’s everyone else been up to? 

Karin*

Murder She Writes.

Karin*

Congratulations!!!

Sorry it took so long, but I had to get two TWO discrepancy judges!  There were too many ties!  But here you go—the five finalists who go to Amy Pierpont!  Now, here’s the Scooby on that.  You have two weeks from today, which is April 1^st!  To get me your ten pages and a cover letter.  The ten pages are to be formatted thusly: 10 pages, Courier 12 or TNR 12, one inch margins all of the way around, and no more than 25 lines per page.  One page cover letter, that can be single-spaced.  Send to KLTabke@aol.com with your name and First Line Finalist in the subject line.

 Again, congrats to the five finalist!  I’m really excited about these!

 1. It came to Nick Holloway, gradually, that he was lying on cold, hard concrete. Something above held him fast. His shirt was hooked on the undercarriage of a car.

He managed to get loose—tearing his new Rag & Bone combat shirt in the process—-and crawled out from under. Enveloped by the stench of motor oil, shaking and sick, Nick finally realized where he was: the two-car garage beneath the Aspen House.

The last thing he remembered was talking to a guy named Mars at the “Soul Mate” wrap party. He’d never seen Mars before. It was an exclusive wrap party—-just Brianne Cross, the last four contestants, himself, and the crew. But Nick remembered talking to the mysterious Mars, the two of them sitting on the back deck, the movement of Castle Creek rushing underneath the slats making him dizzy.

As Nick used the Escalade’s side mirror to pull himself to his feet, he noticed the bright yellow tape stretched across the entrance to the garage. Printed on the tape were the words: CRIME SCENE DO NOT CROSS.

A policeman stood in the driveway just beyond the tape, staring at him, his mouth open in shock.

2. The man slouched on the edge of the bed, his fingers clutching the deadly syringe hidden in his jacket pocket. Despite the timpani drum pounding in his chest and echoing in his ears, his face was expressionless.

He stared at the naked, unsuspecting woman asleep on the bed, her slender body seductive even in slumber, her blonde hair a halo on the pillow.

The guilt gnawing at the man’s gut did not spring from having been inside her, making love to her earlier in the night, but from what he knew was inside her heart and mind and soul. That knowledge made killing her wrong—wrong on so many levels. Sadly, he had known it was wrong for a long time, but he had been powerless to change the course of events set in motion all those weeks ago.

What kind of monster had he become?

Somewhere along the way, the compass of his conscience had lost the true magnetic north of morality.

His fingers tightened around the syringe. A heavy sigh escaped his lips, releasing an avalanche of regret, remorse, and resignation; but still, a mountain of sorrow crushed his chest.

The woman stirred. The pools of molten, dark chocolate that were her eyes suddenly opened, and she smiled up at him.

3. The warmth of the desert vanished under a shroud of bone-chilling twilight. And Jackson Neale, cautious now after four bloody years of war, slipped deeper into its murky, concealing cloak. Anyone he’d befriended on the trek westward from Virginia could be counted on one hand, and he knew with absolute certainty that the person riding into his camp tonight wasn’t one of them.
Only a fool would enter another’s camp without hailing first, and this brazen bastard displayed a boldness that truly amazed him.

Jackson lowered his hand to his hip, calm assurance enveloping him as his fingers slipped around the worn, wooden grip of a well-oiled Army Colt. Patiently, he waited as the rider guided a handsome Bay straight toward the saddlebags near the fire; the glow from the low flames highlighting expensive leather chaps and a set of Mexican spurs strapped snuggly around dusty, silver-tipped boots. And despite the chill of the encroaching night, his evening caller’s black jacket hung open, revealing a holstered revolver buckled low around a denim-covered hip.

With a smooth dismount, the rider dropped to the ground beside the saddlebags. All caution inside Jackson evaporated the moment the stranger lowered to one knee. Seeing his chance, he bolted from the shadows and rammed his shoulder full-force into the unsuspecting thief. Momentum drove them both to the ground.

In an instant, Jackson pinned the body against the sandy soil, his full weight anchoring the bastard into submission.

4. He brought four items to their first date: a spray of orange roses, because he knew they were her favorite flower; a duffle bag containing a change of clothing; three condoms to capture any stray DNA; and a freshly sharpened hunting knife.

With anticipation fizzing through his veins—as effervescent as the finest batch of imported champagne—he plowed through the sprinkler mist dampening the walkway and took the steep steps to her porch two at a time. The sheath strapped to his ankle pinched with each step. Trying to ignore the irritating sensation, he concentrated on the sprinkler mist cooling his face. The tactic had a secondary, even more welcome effect, it curbed the eagerness.

Upon reaching the cover of the porch he shook the moisture from his hair and paused to look around. She had a beautiful view up here on Fancher Heights, below—the lights of Wenatchee spread from east to west in a glittering cobweb of diamond dust.

Her neighbors were set well back, hidden behind lush borders of emerald arborvitaes. Secluded upon this bluff, estranged from her nearest neighbor by a leafy barricade of sound-deadening vegetation, the setting couldn’t have been more perfect. Nobody would hear her scream.

She must have been hovering behind the frosted glass of her entry way, because the door flew open before his finger even touched the bell.

“You’re wet,” she said, her cherry-bright lips twisting in a moue of distress as she leaned in to brush at the offending sprinkles garnishing his denim jacket.

5. They had been in the interrogation room for twelve hours straight. He hadn’t left, not even to get coffee or a donut or to tag team in his partner for that whole good cop-bad-cop game. Mia’s eyes were dangerously heavy and though she had propped her chin in alternate hands for the last few hours, both of her biceps were beginning to feel like three day old spaghetti. Across the table, the detective stared that same level stare, the green of his eyes striking her like a backhanded slap.
“I’ve already told you,” she said, exhaustion slurring the edges of her speech,” my name isn’t Bridget, it’s Mia.”
A days’ growth of beard shadowed his jaw, the only sign that he was any worse for wear from their time in this cinder block hell hole.
“Each one of these stacks is a list of charges from a different state,” he explained softly, almost sympathetically, steepling his hands over the piles of paper that ran the length of the table, “and each stack carries at least a thirty year stretch.”
Mia’s eyes widened, racing across the dull formica as she counted the stacks, stopping at the mugshot they had shown her during the first hour – of a woman who looked exactly like her.
“I know these past few years that we’ve had our ups and downs,” he said, leaning in and lifting a hand as if…as if he were going to reach for her, “but you’re in serious trouble, and I need you to work with me…let me help you.”
This was madness – when she’d left the house this morning, on her way to a nothing job in a nothing town in Nowhere, Southern California, she’d never imagined she would end up in a Los Angeles police station by nightfall, being grilled by a man that was either crazy or wrong or both – and seriously unwilling to admit it.
“Bridg…” he started, but she interrupted, pushing up from her seat fast enough to send the chair under her clattering back against the harshly reflective tile. Before she could find her voice, his was there again, filling the impersonal cold of the air between them with a desperate, heated timbre edged in something raw and smoky; “…you have her wedding ring on your key chain.”

Thank you to everyone who participated ad to all of the cheerleaders out there!

Karin*