Courtney Breazile - Setting

Let's Welcome Courtney Beazile as our guest blogger today. She's giving a litte insight into what she's learned about setting and how to apply it to her story. Thanks for joining us, Courtney.

I posed the question of what makes a good setting and how can a setting enhance a story. I got many opinions on what settings were preferable but less on how they enhance a story.

When I sit down to write a story the setting is one of the first things I think about. The setting is so important to the story it is probably second only to the two main characters. Setting will, when done right, act as a character in itself.

A great setting sets up opportunity for the characters and it can set up obstacles for the characters. The setting acts like a character in these ways, moving in and out of the main character’s lives and shaping the story that the characters must walk through. The characters don’t walk a smooth paved path through life, there is no story there. They walk through dark woods and rough waters and get thrown off track time and again. It is this journey through settings that make a story worth reading.

Setting also sets the mood and tone of the story. If characters are walking through dark woods at midnight you get a completely different feeling than if the same two characters are walking on a crowded New York street. They can be having the same conversation, the same conflict with eachother but it will be a completely different experience for the reader and character depending on the setting.

Setting is used by an author to create the perfect story. Without a clear picture of the setting the reader will not fully experience the story, it will be as if the reader is only getting half the story. The setting should, at every turn, add something to the story or the character. It is never just a thing, it is a tool that, when used well, can create an unforgettable image and story.

As an example of setting telling half the story here is an excerpt from my September 1st release Treasure of Flowers:

“Trevon’s walk led him to a burnt out lot. He stood in front of it staring at where should have been his childhood home. The smell of burning wood and stone still lingered in the air as if the fire had only recently been put out. The heat that had radiated off the huge flames was a tangible memory. There was nothing left of it, a burned out shell of a home once filled with laughter and love. The place that should have stood here before him held his best and worst memories. It was odd to see such destruction sitting in these beautiful surroundings. But it was Trevon’s land to do with what he saw fit and he saw fit to do nothing with it. It reflected his goal, complete destruction. His life had held only one meaning, revenge, but now there was Violet.”

You can head over to my website and tell me what you think of settings.

Thank you,

Courtney Breazile
http://www.courtneybreazile.com/

LET’S GET IN THE MOOD FOR LOVE

...And no I don’t ‘research’ all the sex scenes I write. Sadly!

So yesterday I talked about sheikhs, those men of the shifting sands and desert kingdoms that are so true to the alpha stereotype, but who with the guidance of a good woman, will always find love.
I think in sheikh stories the setting plays a strong part in the love stakes. I remember as a youngster (and no I’m not going to say how young) I was at the movies watching Elvis in some movie set in an Arabic palace. It was wonderful as the theatre had a glittery ceiling like stars and stone statues of lions with lights shining for their eyes. It set the scene perfectly for the movie.
So how do you create a world for a sheikh – if the story is not set in say London or New York. You have to create a world most of us have never been to, or in fact doesn’t exist. In The Sheikh’s Proposal his home is an imaginary island set off the west coast of North Africa/near the Mediterranean. I had to create a history his people – I mean they had ruled their for nearly 800 years – I got this idea from the Grimaldi family who have ruled Monaco for a similar length of time. I wanted to create a paradise, and chose flowers as a theme. That his ancestors had brought a flower/essence industry with them, and that had continued into a profitable perfume industry today.
Also, so that he wasn’t too restricted by the mores of his culture, I had it that his mother had been English and that his homeland had been inhabited at times by the Moors and the Spanish, so there was this tremendous mix of culture, and more importantly, understanding of cultures so that they lived in harmony – wouldn’t that be nice today!
One of the things the reviewer from Fallen Angels said she liked was the world I had created. It was such fun. I wanted it to be about perfume and flowers and so chose names in Arabic that represented that. I googled Arabic names and chose from there.
For example, Zuhair, the name of the island means bright, while the main city on the island, Azhar means flowers and blossoms. So you see there is a theme going on here. Tariq's daughter is Yasmin - after flowering jasmine and his dead wife Nawar's name also means flower. I hoped by doing this - at least in my mind, that it would create lots of setting and go someway to create the ‘mood for love’!
Just as a teaser I’ll post a short excerpt when the hero guides the heroine through the flower market, and how I used it as a prelude to first touch.

“Zuhair is distinctive. We live in harmony, which is something I am determined to preserve and have a natural climate for flowers. It's something we've become famous for.”
“You produce nectar for the Gods, so the travel brochures say.”
He steered her towards a trellised archway entwined with a mass of sweet scented roses. Nose twitching with the heavy fragrance, Callie reached out and trailed a finger over a velvet-soft pink petal, inhaling the delicious fragrance.
“This is the Fragrance Market. Traders for centuries have come with their produce. Our soil is rich and produces an abundance of flowers. Ancestors brought with them the artistry of perfume.”
“Frankincense and myrrh?” Callie questioned.
“Yes, though frankincense is a resin.”
With his hand cupping her elbow, he led her into the market. Basket after basket of flower heads, some dried, some fresh, lined the cobbled street. The fragrance was intoxicating, seductive with its lingering scent.
“They wanted something to remind them of where they came from and what they left behind, so brought their craft with them. Come.” His hand moved to her back, igniting a scorching heat radiating from his touch through her dress to her very sensitive skin. As he guided her along the market walk, acknowledging vendors and purchasers alike, Callie remained silent. This was Tariq's territory and she the interloper. Yet, as they made their way past innumerable stalls, the buyers haggling with the vendors for the best price for the flowers, fragrant oils and unguents, she was transported to days gone by. But it was Tariq who impressed her most, something she was uncomfortable admitting.
Although their king, he was one of them, conversing in all three of languages, listening intently to their problems, offering advice. That he cared was visibly evident.
And it disturbed her.
It distorted her preconceived opinion of Sheikh Tariq al Sulamein. Gambler. Womanizer. All the things she detested. However, his actions today didn't fit the jigsaw.


And just before I go, here’s another short excerpt. This is still using setting as a way to build sensuality. Can you imagine standing on a balcony overlooking the rippling ocean with a blanket of stars above? Definitely a wonderful place for love.


Excerpt 2

Out under a star-studded night sky they were alone, surrounded by a soft breeze scented with the lingering essence of flowering jasmine.
“Do you like art, Callie?”
“It depends,” she prevaricated.
How many times had she dreamt of facing this man, telling him what she thought of him, his kind, what she thought of his actions, yet now, when she had the opportunity, not one sensible syllable crossed her lips.
And he wants to talk art!
A soft chuckle echoed around their secluded domain. “I never thought I'd see you short for words.”
“I'm not used to idle chatter.”
“That surprises me, given it’s your job,” he said, deliberately derisive. “Your job relishes idle chit-chat.”
Callie bristled, yanked her arm from his hold, and wrapped both arms across her waist as if trying to protect herself. Anger unfurled in her chest. “My job has a purpose,” she defended.
“It does? What would that be precisely? So far, all I see is you commenting on my life, or what you perceive it to be and without the slightest knowledge.”
The hairs on the back of Callie's neck rose. “I know you. I know people like you. You give graciously, or so it seems, then suck people dry.”
“Vicious words, Callie. I'd be careful.”
“Or what?”
“Or...” His hawk-like eyes immobilized Callie and her breath became shallow, struggling for release as he held her without touching.
“Or this.” Tariq’s mouth came down hard, devouring hers with one surge of heated need. It rivaled an unforgiving and unrepentant desire of her own. For what could have been an eternity, but was only a mere few seconds, his lips lingered on hers. Then it was over. Callie stumbled backwards, stunned by what had transpired.
Oh, she knew she'd been kissed.
Thoroughly.
But what was the rest? Heat? Temptation? Lust?
Shamed by the flagrant desire coursing through her veins, Callie turned from him and wiped the back of her hand against her still burning mouth. She desperately wished she could douse the flames burning within. Eradicate the taste of him.
Blast the man!
With one kiss Sheikh Tariq al Sulamein had stormed her defenses and now the wall of stone she'd built was under threat. Callie wished with her all her heart it hadn't happened, prayed it wasn't too late to rebuild her defenses. She would need them where this man was concerned.


Happy reading
Jane Beckenham
www.janebeckenham.com
Love, honor and romance at the turning of a page.

SHAKING UP THE SHEIKHS AND WHAT MAKES THEM LOVEABLE REALLY

I’ve just returned home from the Romance Writers of New Zealand annual conference and tucked away in my bag are several books to go to the ‘to be read’ pile and yes, I will admit they are sheikh stories. I myself have always loved them, and written them.

So what is it about these dark eyed men, who roam deserts in flowing robes, who are the ultimate in testosterone filled ‘alpha maleness’? What about them pulls our strings ladies?

Well, for a start for me it has to be their eyes. My heroes often have these dark eyes. I’m a sucker for what I call ‘bedroom eyes’ and yes they are modeled on someone, and no it’s not my husband LOL.

But it has to be their eyes that get me first. And these eyes, unfathomable, so rich and dark like Hershey’s chocolate are absolutely perfect for the bedroom.

I sometimes relate the story of meeting my girlfriend’s husband for the first time. He had these eyes. Very yummy indeed and in fact, yes I will admit this man’s eyes have inspired many a hero for my books.

Then there was this chap that I would see every Saturday morning when I took my daughter to gym class. I mean the guy was everything I could write about. He reminded me of one of the Baldwin brothers. Yep another dark haired, dark eyed kinda bloke.

And so each Saturday had me searching him out. Me the mother of 2, who was probably at least 10 years older than him, waiting, wondering, searching. Pathetic really.

But he was my next hero. I had to watch out for him, see if there were any little quirks that would transcend onto my pages.

And then disappointment slapped me in the face (proverbially I might add) . The man had a wife. Okay so was I wasn’t intending on ripping him away from his wife. But it was the wife who was of instant concern – the lovely lady who had spoken to many times (eeek) was in fact my daughter’s tap dancing teacher! (Oh ground swallow me up now please!)

Anyway,…all this in search of my hero, my sheikh.

But why are they popular? This is not a strange question. I mean when I was on a loop recently discussing this same topic one woman was quite upset, given the world’s difficult times, etc, soldiers and terrorism.

But what I tried to explain to her is that writers are writing entertainment. Pure and simple. We’re writing fiction. Something to take her away from her daily worries.

And I must admit my sheikh Tariq from The Sheikh’s Proposal, could certainly do that. These men are strong, they are unbendable, inflexible, but like all men who find a good woman, they finally learn what is most important to them.

The world that the sheikh lives in is a fantasy for the reader. Who wouldn’t want to be surrounded by such wealth, fly in private planes, drink Bollinger and go anywhere at whim? But beneath it all too, these sheikhs are working men. They have huge business empires to overseas, ensuring jobs are safe for their workers. So they are no different from say someone like Donald Trump – but none of my sheikh’s will ever have a comb over!

So if you’re looking at reading a sheikh story. Don’t just think of it as a hard-edged man, but think of it as a relationship book, a romance where when he finds her, the right woman will bring all the right attributes that this man has, to the surface.
You see all it takes is a good woman. As always.


Happy reading.
Jane Beckenham
http://www.janebeckenham.com/


Check out Jane’s Tariq
The Sheikh’s Proposal

THE SHEIKH’S PROPOSAL
Author: Jane Beckenham
Publisher: http://www.redrosepublishing.com/
ISBN: 978-1-60435-080-7
ISBN: 1-60435-080-6

I sometimes think in the scheme of things we forget to give little hints in our excerpts as to our heroes…..how could I forget Tariq…

Excerpt

The constant paperwork and never-ending meetings soured Tariq's mood as his brain filled with visions of Callie. If he closed his eyes he could see her, feel her next to him, her kisses as they trailed across his skin, remember the taste of her mouth against his.

He bit back a barely suppressed groan and ignored the ceaseless counsel of his advisers. He needed Callie. She made him forget. Her presence simply let him be. Tariq knew he played a dangerous game when he needed to concentrate. Instead, dark passion-filed eyes swam before him, enticing, calling to him like a siren from the sea.

Guilt gnawed at him that he used her, assuaged his need for her, but the moment he gave in to the games his mind played, it would be over and he wasn't sure he wanted that.

It was too final. Too hard.

He wanted Callie at his side, in his bed. For now. And that had to be enough. Didn't it?

He struggled to focus on the information in front of him. It didn't work. Nothing worked and for the first time in his existence, his job wasn't enough.

He needed to get out of his suddenly claustrophobic office.

He needed space.

He needed Callie.

World Building a Room in Romance

Pic from ~ http://parisapartment.wordpress.com ~

So, if you write in the scifi/fantasy/future subgenres of romance how do you world build a room? Obviously, rooms can take on a whole new view and a different meaning depending on the story. Really, rooms in these genres are only limited by the author’s imagination.
I can tell you from having tons of WIPs in these subgenres that creating these rooms is often a challenge. I have to think about what makes sense for that particular world’s culture and for the characters.
How do you write a far future room that is primarily a technology most of us aren’t familiar with or haven’t thought about yet.
I mean, what is it like sailing through the cosmos on any number of space vessels ~ from a one-person cruiser to a planet-sized cargo ship?

Mostly, I enjoy writing rooms that deeply affect the heroine and hero in some way. For example, in ALL SHADES OF BLUE PARADISE, Lady Sheridan and Baron Zaggry have been apart for ten years. In love with each other and planning to marry, Sher sees what she believes to be a betrayal by Zag and breaks their engagement. Now, she’s agreed to be his slave lover for one year to save her brother’s family from debt.
The moment Sher enters the upstairs mansion room that belongs to her, she is both amazed and her heart is torn from its moorings. The room has been designed exactly as she and the Baron lovingly talked about during their engagement. As she moves within and remembers, it’s in those moments her heart knows that Zag still loves her and has always loved her. Her heart knows this, but she doesn’t. She can’t yet. It would be unbearable to her. Still, the truth has found its way inside her because of a room, the room Zag held in his heart and had created for her.

In contrast to Lady Sheridan’s fantasy-in-blue private boudoir, I’ll leave you with the ‘room’ Sun Rocket, my heroine in RED LIONESS TAMED, finds herself trapped inside.

Chapter One excerpt:

"Frax! My brain feels like it’s been spun out of cobwebs," Sun Rocket muttered. She squeezed her eyelids open and shut several times, shifting slightly on the hard metallic surface. Expelling a breath, she attempted to open her eyes. "Frax it to the sun! More cobwebs," she angrily complained.

Pressing her hand over her eyes, she sniffed carefully. Sterile, her surroundings, except for harmless micro dust--except for her--about half a day away from a bath or a good tongue licking. Experimentally she shoved with her foot. Half her usual body weight. She was probably inside some cargo hold, orbiting or...

Sun Rocket shot up to a sitting position. Her head spun at some undefined warp speed. Blinking rapidly, she forced one eye to remain open, seeing ubiquitous gray cargo containers randomly stacked around her. "How the friggin’ frax...?"
She fought to stand upright, assisted by the lessened gravity, and crashed into a tall stack of empty containers. Stumbling into more containers, she kicked at them, managing to knock them out of her way while her head whirled like a new-forming galaxy.

"Not like there’s going to be a port window in here," she muttered derisively. Both eyes open now, she watched the wall circle before her impaired vision like a dimensional portal.

Steadier and steadier on her feet, her brain cobwebs clearing, she automatically reached for her left flank phase pistol. Gone! "Dang the villain! Of course!" she reminded herself. All her weapons would have been stripped during transport into the cargo hold by the beam.

What cargo hold?

Frustrated, wild, she lashed out at the nearest containers with her combat-trained feet--scattering them, semi-floating them away from her. Spying a dark, glass-looking monitor at the top of the hold, Sun Rocket shoved the nearest containers beneath it. Rapidly she threw containers together like a tower. Heedlessly she leapt up the huge makeshift steps, leaned her palms against the wall. She stood on her tiptoes, trying to examine the convex reddish monitor--not a type she knew.
"Get down from there!" a highly irritated male voice commanded in third galactic vernacular.

Wobbling precariously, Sun Rocket knelt on one knee. "Not like I can’t land on my feet like a cat," she murmured, amused for an instant. Gazing down toward the voice’s origin, she saw the fierce male’s flowing locks, well past his shoulders--dark red amber. The humanoid-appearing male glared up at her, hands planted on his hips like a holo-romance buccaneer. From her view, the rest of him could be compared favorably to a lean, yet beautifully muscled hero. Even his garments--a style unknown to her in her far-flung galactic travels tracking down, taking in or eliminating cat shifters who had gone bad--even his garments were reminiscent of swashbuckling ancient Earth.

"Who are you?" she called down to him, resting on her haunches. It was her good luck moon, she was still in human form. Not every galactic race "appreciated" feline shifters. To put it tuna-fish mildly.
~~~~~~

Yep, it’s a universe of room building in romance ~ the past, present and future ~ other fantasy dimensions, other worlds... whatever the mind of the writer can conceive.
So, what room are you penning right now?
Do you have a favorite room in a romance novel you’ve read?
~~~~~~

HAPPY END OF SUMMER

~ MAY ALL YOUR READING DREAMS COME TRUE ~

Savanna Kougar

~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~

Author of ~

All Shades of Blue Paradise
Red Lioness Tamed
When a Good Angel Falls ~ In Print
Tangerine Carnal Dreams
Murder by Hair Spray in Gardenia, New Atlantis ~ In Print
Black Cat Beauty
Stallion of Ash and Flame ~ coming from Siren-BookStrand
~~~~~~

A Room With A View....

Happy Monday! I wanted to start by congratulating my fellow HEA bloggers. There have been some awesome room blogs over the past few weeks. Brava ladies!

So, the room I chose to chat about today is one we take with us everywhere. This room can be a place of comfort and peace or it can be a place where we relive our worst nightmares, repeatedly. As an individual, I find my space is very private. As a woman, there are times I find it to be a swirling pit of emotions where copious amounts of chocolate are needed to lull it into submission. However, in all honesty, there are times when even I think the room needs a strong bolt and a warning sign telling passersby to steer clear. ~grin~

This got me thinking about my characters. Do they sometimes wish for a no trespassing sign to keep me from bursting into their lives and rummaging around upstairs looking for fear and conflict to grace the pages of my book? Do they cringe when I pull out their deep, dark secrets and present them for others reading pleasure? Do I leave that tempestuous room a barren and desolate place? Or perhaps, I change it for the better? You know knock down a few walls; let in the light, brighten the place up, as it were? Or maybe I stayed up too late while writing this and am over thinking this whole thing?

I don’t think so. Nope, I don’t think so.

These characters trust us to be gentle. They trust us not to pillage their minds then run with our ill-gotten gains. They trust us to always make things right.
Or as right as we can.

I have to wonder though, does my intrusion ultimately help the damsel in distress, fearful for her life and/or dignity, locked in the pirate’s cabin waiting for the dread sea stalker to arrive. Could I be doing lasting damage to the hero by locking him up, holding him against his will only to torture him with the threat of harm befalling his woman?

Ugh!

As a writer, I try my best to fix what’s broken. To leave my characters with their happy ever after and then some, but as their creator it sometimes bothers me to rifle through their secrets, their pain, their private rooms looking for a story.

Am I the only one who feels like this?

Here’s a snippet of what I found in Mari’s head when she wasn’t looking…

Had she’d known this man would be dangerous to her well-being, she might have waited for the next alpha to cross her path. To love him would be easy, though the broken heart could kill her.
Marina took one last look at the man who had changed her world before leaving the haven they’d created inside the gazebo. She would regret this decision for years to come. Unfortunately, she had no choice. Half-breeds never had a choice. They were not welcomed by full-bloods, nor were they allowed in any pride. He’d accepted her as a full-blood only because she’d hidden her scent.
She was several miles down the road, clothes on, in the car they’d brought from the casino, when she heard the pained cry of a cat. Agony, too great to be hers alone, tore at her chest. Tears ran down her face as she wished the cry was for her.

~Note - she did eventually forgive me for the intrusion...

Have a great week everyone!

Room Within A Room

Room within a room is one of the most romantic elements of life. Of a movie. Of a book.

What is a room within a room?

It’s a moment in time when only the hero and heroine exist within a crowd. Everything, everyone else is excluded. The moment when hearts pound, your body feels warm, caressed. Even fear of the connection you’ve made.

They may be little moments throughout the story, but their importance is crucial to the overall chemistry that brings a satisfying end.

I love the moments that have me holding my breath, smiling, tearing up and the overall aw of it.

Here a few off the top of my head . They’re not necessarily in a crowd, they are public places with others around.

Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks in Sleepless in Seattle have a couple of these that stand out in my mind – the first time they see each other when she’s standing in the middle of the road; see each other in the Statue of Liberty.

And again, in You’ve Got Mail – the look on their faces when they meet in the park – his unsure smile all because he doesn’t know what her reaction will be to find it’s him, her face scrunching up when she sees him - the first time you see it, you’re not sure if she’s upset because it is him.

My favorite line in the whole movie is “I wanted it to be you.”

We all write the scenes: It’s the buildup of sexual tension.

Heroine gazes around the room, a fleeting look, notices the man watching her, seconds later, the glance is a little longer, more communicative.

The hero holds her close on a crowded dance floor; their bodies moving as one; their hearts whispering to one another. She might gaze up at him with a shy, or not so shy, but knowing look.

Maybe share a kiss, a caress. No words need exchanged.

Maybe they’re at a table for two, he reaches over and caresses her hand while they talk.

They may be holding hands, but while they may be talking to someone else, one of them might caress the palm of the other - I love these little tele-tale signs they're thinking about each other.

All rather cliché when put in a list, but we have the ability to change them up, put twists on them and come away with the same affect. I love it! This is what makes being a writer fun.

When I began to write this post, I stopped every now and again to search my published work and it was disheartening in a way. Then I realized that I’m fine. Not all of our moments need to be room within a room. My hero and heroines are pretty much alone when their moments happen. The closest thing I have to a public display where they tuned everything out is in A Psychic Hitch. It's a story about a woman in her mid-thirties and wants to have a child, but doesn't want the man. This excerpt is from a scene where Allen shows up determined to show her they belong together despite her insistence otherwise. Circumstances play havoc with her emotions, but it's a pivotal scene in the respect she now must come to terms with feelings she doesn't want to have.

***

Her heart fell. By now, he knew every secret and had heard every embarrassing childhood story. The women in her family knew exactly how to talk fast and fill in the blanks for each other. She entered the bar and rounded the booths in time to hear her mother say, “She’s stubborn, but don’t let up.”

Allen sat beside her mother with his hands in hers. Her mark of approval. Oh, no! Tears stung the back of her eyes, but she pasted on a smile.

She walked up to the group and kissed her mom on the cheek. “Hi, Mom.” She glared at her sisters. “I see you’ve met Allen.”

“We’ve been getting to know him.” The gleam in her baby sister’s eyes confirmed her fears.

Allen stood and held his chair for her to sit next to her mother. Without thinking, she took his hand. “Listen, I’d love to stay and chat, but I promised to fix a catfish dinner and it’s getting late.”

Her mother stood and cupped her cheeks. “Honey, it’s all right.” She looked away from her mother, hating how she knew her so well. This wasn’t the time or place for her to bring up matters she didn’t want Allen to know about. Her mother let her go. “Go feed this wonderful man and we’ll see you at dinner Sunday.”

She glared at her sisters. “I will see you later.”

Cheri nearly pulled Allen away from them and out the front door. He stopped her with a yank on her arm. “What?” she asked.

“You tell me.”

“Everyone thinks you’re so damn perfect. Everything you do—my mother was holding your hand.”

“Jealous?”

“No, I’m not jealous. She made you part of the family and…” She stepped away from him. Her chest hurt and the tightness threatened to turn off the air. “They told you things you have no right knowing. The reasons I can’t use someone I know; a sperm bank. The reason I don’t want you in my life. They had no right to gang—”

Allen leaned over and kissed her, putting a halt to her ranting, then scooped her up in his arms. “Put me down!” He walked past the full-length windows, in full view of the women. “You idiot. I have to put up with those hens after you leave tomorrow.”

“They seem harmless enough.”

“Oh, my God! They are the least harmless bunch of women when it comes to relationships of a sibling.”

He set her on her feet at the car. “Cheri, they tried to tell me what you’re afraid of, but I stopped them. You need to be the one to tell me. I want to hear it from you.”

Pissed that they were so willing to tell him, she spit out, “There isn’t anything you need to know. You’re leaving tomorrow and that’s the end of the story.”

“Is it?”

“It has to be. And the reasons are mine. It was never part of the deal for you to come here, or meet my family.” She turned and stormed across the road to the parking lot, leaving him to follow or not. He caught up with her at the car and she whirled on him when he took hold of her arm. “Drop it!”

His hand fell. “Honey, the reasons don’t matter, but I’d like to know—”

“No. Allen.” How could she stand here and tell him what happened between them meant nothing and she couldn’t trust him with her secrets? She wasn’t so sure of that anymore.

***

Here's to many Rooms Within Rooms to come for all of us.

[I'm sorry for the late post -- I had an unexpected family deal this morning.]

Bekki

Contemporary romance with sizzling sensuality
Jewel of the Sun’s BLOOD DESTINY- coming soon
LOVE, Stalker of the Heart – a poetry collection – available now
A Psychic Hitch available now

Last Glass of Wine available now

Servin' It Up available now at Amazon and Barnes & Noble

http://bekkilynn.net/

www.myspace.com/bekki_lynn
www.zazzle.com/lynnsplanet

Room to Breathe, Room to Grow.

'Tony stood on the crest of the hill and looked out over the misty morning scene in the valley below. A wide curve of stripped and pruned olive trees embraced orderly rows of skeletal vines, dipping down into the valley and disappearing into the crook of the hill before reappearing on the next, and the next again.
He knew they crossed ancient boundaries, one farm’s land merging into that of another, an endless swathe fading into the distance as if they crossed the whole of Umbria. It amazed him, how there could be so much open land, so much space, quietly waiting for the first touch of spring.
He breathed deep and his lungs expanded and craved more. After years of shallow city breathing, he drank in the clean air as if making up for lost time....'

That’s Tony, the hero of A Different Kind of Honesty, in one of my favourite ‘rooms.’ You’ll be able to guess from the cover of the book where that might be. Umbria, right in the centre of Italy, is a place I go back to time and time again. For some reason, the second I get off the plane and my feet touch the ground, I feel as if I’m home. Why this should be, I can’t explain - but I know I’m not alone. I’ve met many people of different nationalities and cultures, Europeans, Americans, Japanese, who feel just the same way. Italy has a way of capturing your heart and your soul, and making you truly feel as if you’ve come home. No, it’s not where I come from, and it may never be the place I live, but like the saying goes, ‘home is where the heart is,’ and I know where my heart loves to be.

This is my favourite room. I love this photograph of the statue of St Francis of Assisi, looking out over Umbria as if he’s seated in his favorite room and loving the view from his window. He was a guy who knew a bit about quieting the spirit and contemplation of what’s really important in a person’s life, and no, you don’t have to be religious to appreciate that feeling. When I look at this landscape, my first reaction is to take a deep breath, and it’s as if all the stresses and strains of everyday life evaporate. I can almost physically feel my heart rate slow down, and my spirit is calm.

Here is where I find room to breathe and room to grow. I drink in the sweet clean air, and I feel alive and rejuvenated. It’s no wonder I send my characters there. Yes, it’s my own longing I’m writing about when Tony stands on that same hillside, but I make no apology. This is my favourite room, and I'm so happy to be able to share it with you.