Smutketeers

Smutketeers: This is your first Rowan Larke book and your first Rowan Larke interview. Tell us how you feel having the Smutketeers pop your cherry. (We’ll be gentle. Maybe.)

Rowan: I know all of you wa-a-a-ay better than that. I think that’s a flogger behind Eden’s back. And does RG really think I’ll believe that’s a fan and not a paddle? I think Feisty’s wearing a few too many scarves for this time of year…

And you, Crys, with your innocent look? I know you too well for that. You’re probably just supposed to coax me into a false sense of security, so you can all have your wicked wicked way with me.

Of course, I’m easily coaxed.

Which is what you lurrrve about me.

Smutketeers: What’s your writing process like? Do you have a daily or weekly word count that you try to meet? Or do you wait until the last minute and write like mad?

Rowan: I’m a total binge-and-purge-er. I’ll write like a fiend for a month, and then nothing for another month or two. Eventually I just get tired of the book not being finished and write until it’s done.

Smutketeers: So, filthy angels? What made you go there? Dealing with death and other dark issues is heavy, especially when it’s also sexy. How did you balance those in your upcoming book?

Rowan: I like to push the envelope. I like dark stories and themes, and I like almost-broken characters. I love writing things I’m told I can’t. J So it didn’t start out with filthy angels (though I guess that’s where it ended up!) but it started with one man and one woman who were separated by death.

Of course, right there, I’m starting in with some heavy shit.

Jason is dead. In a perverse personal hell after his death, he watches the love of his life, Clarissa, as she has sex with one abusive man after another. And she seems to think she deserves it.

And there it was. The crux of this story. Why did Jason kill himself? And why hadn’t Clarissa, after three years, dealt with it? And why hadn’t Jason moved on?

Now, I’m a little perverse. I grew up in a pretty religious family, and one of the things our church taught was that no one who committed suicide could get into heaven. I decided that every rule ought to have a loophole. And every loophole needs a watchdog. When I started thinking about the sort of person who would usher the souls of suicides through to heaven, I realized he’d be powerful, sure, but also worn down, tired of his job, and…pretty sarcastic, just to get through the day.

The dirty…I maintain my filthy characters brought that all on their own.

Though I do think that the sex in this book shows how…sex can be different. I show angry, brutal sex. The sort of hot sex that comes from a one-night stand with someone you just think looks good. The sort of sex people have when they’re in love. The sort of sex people have to say goodbye.

And yes, there’s even sex with angel winged goodness.

Smutketeers: How long have you been writing? Have you always written the smut or is this a new genre for you?

Rowan: Forever. I was the kid who would tell stories at the age of 3. I never didn’t want to be a writer.

I’ve written the smut, on and off, for a few years. This is the first one good enough to have a shot at publication, though. And I can’t write it without a paranormal element. Ever.

Smutketeers: Do you read in the same genre(s) you write?

Rowan: Sometimes. I actually prefer Old Skool fantasy for my reading, but it makes it hard sometimes to keep my worldbuilding pure. Ditto para-romance, which is my 2nd fave. So, when I’m on my writing jag, I’ll either not read much, or I’ll read romantic suspense to keep myself ‘clean’. When I’m not-writing, I’ll glom through a book a day of whatever I can get my hands on. Starting with the fantasy and paranormals, of course.

Smutketeers: Do you ever have concept envy and wish you’d totally thought of an idea first? If so, which book or movie inspired the green-eyed monster?

Rowan: ALL the TIME.

Most recently? The movie Pan’s Labyrinth. Oh, it’s not exactly how I would’ve done it, but that movie is…brilliantly dark and a fascinating twist on the faery creatures I usually write about. (when not writing angels, apparently.)

Smutketeers: We know you love slutty shoes…which are your favorites? If price were no object, which brand would you own a dozen pairs of?

Rowan: I LOVE my shoes. However, I’m really not a name-brand girl. I’m going for quantity. My very favorites for regular wear are my knee-high Doc’s…a throwback to my Goth-girl days, I suppose, but I love them.

If I could buy whatever I wanted? Oh, I want a pair of thigh-high boots, and the miniskirt and body to wear them with.

I want a pair of French maid shoes…like Mary-Janes with a little lacy ruffle.

Smutketeers: What’s your writing “uniform” look like? (It’s totally a silk peignoir with bonbon accessories, isn’t it? You can tell us!)

Rowan: Oh yeah, TOTALLY.

Though I look much better in the green one.

Smutketeers: Name three of your favorite books of all time. Tell us why they made the grade.

Rowan: Gah! Just three?

HeartThrob by Suzanne Brockmann. The characters are just amazing, and Jed is just…in turmoil. I like that in a man. That book makes me cry every time I read it, and that’s just…not normal for me.

From a Whisper to a Scream by Charles de lint, writing as Samuel M. Key. This book is closer to horror than de lint’s usual fantasy offerings, but it’s still so very him. Which is exactly why I love it. I love the urban fantasy offerings from de lint but it was amazing to see them with this darker spin. It made me feel more confident that I could mix my two genres, too. (though by no means do I think I’m as brilliant as he is!)

Lions of Al-Rassan, by Guy Gavriel Kay. Brilliant, beautiful prose, amazing characters, and a love triangle that makes my heart ache, despite the fact it’s fantasy with romantic elements than a romance.

Smutketeers: Do you have any appearances coming up?

Rowan: I feel like I’m blogging all over the universe this week, but I don’t have the links yet…instead, I’ll point you to http://rowanlarke.com/press, and you can find them all listed there.

Smutketeers: Where can we find you on the Internet?

Rowan: http://rowanlarke.com is the best place to find all the links, but if you really want to stalk me? I’m on twitter. I’m on twitter a lot. http://twitter.com/rowanlarke

*And now for some quick questions…

~Knee high boots or come-fuck-me pumps?

Fuck-me-boots

~In uniform or out of uniform?

They can start out in it.

~Alien or vampire?

Vampire. Usually.

~Phone sex or strip club?

Phone sex.

~Corset or Wonderbra?

No.

~Voyeur or exhibitionist?

Depends on the day…

~Tattoos or piercings?

Do I have any? Not beyond the ear piercings, no.

Do I want them? Yes. I’m working on a tattoo design, actually.

Do I like them on others? It depends on the person, really. I do love the…oh, I don’t know, the idea of ink beneath the skin. But there are some people a tattoo just wouldn’t suit, ever. Like my mom.

~Stormy beach or snowy mountainside?

I hate storms. They scare me. However. I get more than enough snow. So long as I have someone to hold me? Stormy beach.

And for one lucky commenter, Rowan is giving it up for free! Um, what we mean is that she’s giving away a free copy of her new release to someone who comments between now and next Monday. Good luck!

For our Equipment Oriented contest, we have two winners!

Bella won a copy of Eden’s new ebook, The Seeking Kiss.

RachieG won a copy of Crystal’s new ebook, If You Believe.

Congrats to our winners and thanks to all who commented!

Crystal: Well, first I think we should tell them about how we came up with our post title. “Equipment Oriented” sounds so ominous, when really it’s just delicious. In my new book, UNTAMED, and in Eden’s new book, THE BEAUTY OF SURRENDER, we have a lot of equipment being used to spice up the filth. Eden’s book has one particular piece of equipment that can be verrrry interesting. Not that I know anything about that, personally, because I’m the good girl of the Smutly Crew.

Eden: The good girl? Ha! And that’s all I’m sayin’.

Actually, the only equipment in THE BEAUTY OF SURRENDER is rope. I know-you’re shocked. Such a far cry from my usual paddles, floggers, cuffs, vibrators, slappers, whips, chains, hot wax, blindfolds, um…what was I saying? Oh yes…so, this book is about Shibari, an ancient and sensual ritualized form of rope bondage that originated in Japan. So the really unusual part is that rope is the only implement. Well, unless human anatomy can be called an ‘implement’. What do you think, Crystal?

Crystal: I think human anatomy is the most important implement in every one of my books. It’s definitely my one implement of choice. However, in UNTAMED, I went with the theory that variety is the spice of life, so there’s a ton of stuff: vibrators, dildos, an ancient Mayan statuette used as a dildo…or was it used as an anal plug? Hard to recall…it just got so dirty in there. There was also a rather interesting video game that made an appearance in my heroine’s technobrothel. The game was inspired by Eden herself, naughty girl that she is…but I’ll let her reveal how much or little she wants about that. Let’s just say she made the dedication of the book.

Eden: I LOVE that my torrid true-life tale of techno titillation made it into your book! And I’m happy to share some of it here…

So, when my boyfriend and I were first seeing each other and in that early blush of love-and lust-smart boy that he is introduced me to a video game that even I couldn’t resist. It’s called Rez, made for the PlayStation 2. Now, I am not a big video game fan. In fact, I’d had very little interest in them until this one night…when he started this game and told me I HAD to sit down and watch him play. Big yawn, right? (Except that I do love when my man issues commands). He pulled out this handy dandy little attachment and told me to hold it in my…um…lap. He was happily shooting at enemy spaceships and when he made a hit, the attachment vibrated. Lovely! Soon I was cheering him on…with a few sighs and moans in between.

I had to tell someone, of course, so my fellow Smutketeers got the full story. Crystal was so enchanted by the idea she asked if she could use it and voila!

Crystal: Hey, when something that good falls in your…um…lap…you have to use it. UNTAMED takes place a tiny ways into the future, so Eden knew the spaced out game would be perfect for my setting. She was awesome to let me “borrow” her equipment, but having a kinky little implement designed for that purpose isn’t the only way to have some equipment oriented fun.

I think there’s so much people can use as equipment for sex—not all of it has to be from a store or website that’s specifically sells sex toys. Look at Eden’s ropes for example. Rope isn’t necessarily a sex toy, but can obviously be made totally sexual. I did the same in UNTAMED with the Mayan statuette. There’s just nothing wrong with making your own “pervertibles,” is there? Think about it…a string of pearls as anal beads, a hair brush as a paddle, a silk scarf for bondage. The list could go on forever. I think it almost makes it more sexually titillating because it’s not supposed to be a sex toy.

Eden: Oh, I love pervertibles! Didn’t Feisty have a wine bottle used as a dildo in BOUND TO PLEASE? And I have to say, your Aztec idol is a really great idea! Here are some others:

An old-fashioned curly telephone cord makes an excellent and wicked whip

A small kitchen scrub brush is a wonderful sensation toy-just brush over the skin gently. Or not…*G*

An electric tennis-racket-style fly swatter is fun if you’re into electrical play

But my favorite is a toy rubber sword my boyfriend and I picked up at Disneyland-it’s a sort of smooth, suede-like rubber and it’s the best spanking toy ever!

But I think I made good use of my simple and humble rope in THE BEAUTY OF SURRENDER. Here’s a little taste…

THE BEAUTY OF SURRENDER

Pre-Order: Amazon.com · Barnes & Noble · Borders

Shibari…The ancient art of erotic restraint…Its finely-knotted ropes are a turn-on, a sexual experience… and for some, an absolute necessity…

At a San Francisco sex club called Pinnacle, Ava Gregory seeks something she cannot quite describe. But of one thing she is certain: the moments when feels her most beautiful and complete are when she is tightly restrained in the Shibari ropes. At Pinnacle, she’s paired with a master: Desmond Hale, who thrives on control… But something surprising happens when Desmond binds Ava’s willing body and takes her to the edge of ecstasy. And now, the two are taking their relationship out of the shadows of the club, sharing secrets unleashed and bodies unbound…

An art dealer and Shibari master, Marina has never hesitated to dominate anyone. Until she meets James, a dark, gorgeous, towering journalist who’s survived horrors around the world. James confesses that submission is the only way to clear his troubled mind, but Marina is instantly overwhelmed by his strength and magnetism. To share the pleasures of bondage, something must change between them. When it does, it will come with an explosion of unexpected pleasure—and a relationship that neither could have ever have imagined…

EXCERPT from THE BEAUTY OF SURRENDER:

He opened the door and led her through.

An enormous bed, with carved wooden posts soaring toward the high ceiling. More windows open to the incredible Bay view, letting the night right in: the dark sky, the glittering stars, making her feel all the more vulnerable, even though she was certain no one could see inside. The room was dimly lit by amber glass sconces on the walls. Music played quietly, something soft, meditative. And against one wall was a large wooden frame, like the ones she’d seen at the fetish clubs. But this one was beautiful, carved, with benches and bars padded in brown leather and shining brass hooks placed all over it. Next to it stood a tall rack with coils of colored ropes hanging from it: white, black, red, blue. Her breath stuttered in her chest.

He came to stand behind her, so she couldn’t see him. She could only feel his presence, the faint heat of his body. And his scent, warm and enigmatic, filling her senses.

“Do you know what this is, Ava?”

She nodded her head. “I think so. It looks like the bondage frames I’ve seen at some of the clubs.”

“Yes, that’s right. I can do complex web work here, full harnessing, suspension. Anything.” A short beat. “And I will.”

Oh, she was going to sink to her knees right now, right here!

“Ava, take your clothes off. All of them.”

She paused, opened her mouth, but found she had nothing to say. Everything he was asking of her was well within the boundaries she was used to, but for some reason she felt startled.

She wasn’t going to argue. She didn’t want to. But she was trembling all over, with excitement, and with a little fear still. She wasn’t afraid of him exactly. It was how he made her feel.

But she was doing it, slipping out of her dress, her bra, her high heels, and finally, her damp, white lace panties, which he took from her. He held the small scrap of fabric in his fingers, stroking the lace with his thumb.

“I love this; that you would wear something so sweet-looking. That’s one of the first things I noticed about you,” he told her as he set her clothing down on the dark suede coverlet on the end of the bed. “That air of innocence.”

She could hardly believe he was talking to her so calmly, while she stood naked in front of him!

“And this,” he said, his voice quiet, almost reverent. “This incredible skin.” He drew one finger between her breasts, and her nipples went hard immediately. She shivered all over. Moving in closer, he spread his fingers wide, his entire palm covering the skin between her breasts.

“I can feel your heart beating, Ava. I don’t mind telling you mine is beating just as hard, just as fast.”
He took her hand, placed it on his firm, muscled chest, and she could feel his thudding heartbeat beneath his black cotton shirt.

God.

She was melting all over, into his heat, into her own.

“This is why we’re here together right now,” he said.

He took a step back and she saw him pull in a deep breath. She was unable to speak, her mind beginning that lovely slip and slide, filled with nothing but his rugged beauty, his command, her own sense of submission. And overcome, she clasped her hands behind her back, bowed her head.

“Ah, good girl.”

Hot flash of pleasure at those words, at his tone.

“Stay just as you are while I get set up,” he told her.

She waited. Breathless. Dizzy with need, anticipation.

Then that familiar whisper of rope smoothing over rope, and in a moment he was back in front of her, taking her hands from her back, leading her forward.

“We begin now, Ava.”

UNTAMED

Pre-Order: Amazon.com · Barnes & Noble · Borders

The biological warfare of the twenty-first century changed the planet in astonishing ways, transforming humans into shape-shifters who love to walk on the wild side—reveling in danger and the explosive desire that consumes them…

Half-human, half-lynx, Delilah Chase makes her living as a professional thief. But when half-human, half-hawk Hunter Avery catches her trying to steal his priceless ruby, he makes her a proposition: spend a week in his bed, or take a trip to jail. What follows is seven days of unrelenting, primitive passion neither can live without…

As the owner of Tail, the most notorious techno brothel in New Chicago, mink-shifter Lorelei Chase specializes in fulfilling all of her clients’ kinky fantasies. She just has one rule: Never sample the goods that her customers or workers offer. But every day, jaguar-shifter Nolan Angelo and wolf-shifter Pierce Vaughn tempt her to break that rule—until she ultimately gives in to a burning lust that knows no control…

EXCERPT from UNTAMED…

Delilah Chase perched on the corner of the building, her hand braced on the ledge in front of her as she swept her gaze over the city below. From ninety stories up, it looked clean, beautiful, an ocean of multicolored lights against pure ebony.

But Delilah knew the truth. Up close, it was gritty, dirty, and dangerous. A place where someone like her flourished.

She grinned and let the adrenaline humming through her body take over. Her claws slid forward, scraping against the slick metal ledge. She ran her tongue down a long fang, her smile widening. It was always this way when she was on a job. Half cool, calm professionalism, half unadulterated thrill seeking.

Schooling herself to patience, she tilted her wrist and checked her chrono. A few more minutes and the virus she’d seduced a young computer techie into feeding into the building’s security system would kick in. She’d have a quarter of an hour to get in, steal the priceless ruby her client wanted, and get out again.

Kitten’s play, this job.

Still, every case had its risks, and the moment a thief got too cocky was the moment they slipped up. If all went well, by the end of the night, multi-trillonaire Hunter Avery would be missing a gem and Delilah would have a sizeable commission in her encrypted cred account. So, things had better go well. She gauged the distance between the skyrise she stood on and the one she needed to break into. Tricky, very tricky. Timing was everything. The lynx within her purred at the challenge.

This was going to be fun.

Balconies circled the entire penthouse. Not surprising a family of red-tailed hawks would build the glass and mercurite sanctuary for themselves in the middle of the city. High enough they couldn’t see the grime of the real people below.

The newsvids had reported on every aspect of the Avery family’s lives for as long as she’d been alive. Their fortune was one of the few to survive the Third Great War, which made them newsvid darlings, beautiful people in an ugly world.

Delilah had heard all about it when Hunter’s parents were killed in a tragic industrial accident. A few years after that, Hunter’s uncle died, and Hunter had all but disappeared from public view. The buzz on the street whispered that Hunter had done the killing himself, his mind twisted from seeing his parents’ death. A bitter little smile curled Delilah’s lips. Figures that he’d get away with murder. The rich always did.

Now, Hunter was practically a recluse in his tower penthouse, only allowing a trusted few in for business purposes, and only leaving for a few business meetings or high-society parties a year. Which meant conning her way in wouldn’t work, so breaking in was her best option. Her client said Avery was in Los Angeles at a board meeting and wouldn’t be home until the next day. Her intel had confirmed it, so tonight was the night to get what her client wanted.

If a tiny part of her was curious to see the inside of the Averys’ ivory tower, and got a malicious thrill from stealing from the richest man alive, she’d never admit it to anyone else.

Her chrono vibrated against her wrist, letting her know the window of opportunity had opened. Reaching behind her she pulled her grappler gun out of her knapsack, aimed it at the balcony railing and fired. A gossamer-thin strand of mercurite shot from each end forward to form molecular bonds with the railings on both buildings. She flipped a setting so the grappler would move along the wire. Taking a breath, she said a quick prayer that the virus worked and she wasn’t about to get fried by the security field that electrocuted any unauthorized life forms attempting to enter.

Then she tightened her grip on the grappler, jumped, and let gravity carry her down the wire with a soundless rush of speed and wind. Her heightened vision took in every detail as she went. So, she knew the exact moment something started to go wrong. The mercurite was designed to dissolve after one use. It left no evidence behind. The wind was especially intense this evening and she might just reach the end of that one use before she reached the other building.

Shit, shit, shit.

Heart pounding so loud in her ears it drowned out everything else, she tilted her feet forward and hoped for greater speed. Tensing every muscle as she hit the perfect spot in her downward flight, she kicked her legs hard. She swung up and around the wire, launching herself into the sky. The cable slackened and she knew it was no more than silver powder beneath her. She twisted midair, flipping until she landed lighter than a cat’s paw on the edge of the railing. Triumph rushed through her, making her grin. Perfect.

She loved it when a plan came together. Almost as much as she loved it when the plans went awry and she had to think on her feet. It was why she was the very best at what she did.

UNTAMED and THE BEAUTY OF SURRENDER go on sale on October 27th, but they’re available right now for pre-order!

Meanwhile, let’s have a contest! Everyone who posts here between now and midnight on our release day, October 27th, will be eligible to win a copy of Eden’s latest book from Samhain, THE SEEKING KISS, a hot vampire ménage story OR Crystal’s latest Samhain release IF YOU BELIEVE!

Come back to the Smutketeers blog on October 28th to find out who’s won!

So, I’m sitting here sipping my hot apple cider (what? Not all writers drink coffee. I don’t. Tastes like I imagine battery acid does. Blech. But, I digress…), and I’m thinking about our topic of things that bite. I don’t write a lot of vampires. I have some in Big Girls Don’t Die. And I have a vampire secondary character in my upcoming Kensington Aphrodisia novel, Every Witch Way, but I tend to go with other paranormal beasties that bite.

Shape-shifters, baby.

Awww, yeah.

To me, there’s just something schmexy about a guy who’s half-wild and in touch with his animal instincts. Really in touch. And he’s got the fangs to prove it.

In most of my books, the fangs may flash a bit when he’s excited or pissed off, but no one gets bitten until it’s mating time. So, biting isn’t just a fun sexual fetish, but a serious mark-you-as-mine-for-life kind of endeavor.

And that’s just hot to me, because, really, that just takes alpha male claiming to a whole new level. An extra yummy level. I mean, think about it, you now have this big, sexy beastie as yours and yours alone (unless we’re talking threesome, in which case the sexy awesomeness just become exponential) forever and ever and ever.

In some of my books, the girl is a shifter, too, so she gets to sink her fangs in and mark him as hers. Like…forget the wedding band, you can take those off, let’s go big or go home. Let’s make it permanent.

Sure, it’s primitive, but really…we are talking people who are in touch with their primal side. A little biting and scratching in bed, some fangs and claws, never hurt anyone, right?

In honor of my beasties that bite, I’m giving away an advanced copy of my new shifter book, UNTAMED, to one lucky commenter on this post. I’ll draw a winner next Monday and post here to announce who won!

Thanks so much for entering, everyone!

“Naughty or Nice” in Under the Covers anthology, by Crystal Jordan

Dayna Sharp has the perfect job, the perfect man…the perfect life. So why is the prospect of marrying Mr. Wonderful so perfectly boring? It’s a question Dayna can’t shake when she brings her fiance home to meet her spectacularly un-boring family–and finds herself pursued by a bad-boy bearing gifts that could burn a hole in more than her Christmas stocking…

Read an excerpt here!

So, today, I’m throwing a Win It Before You Can Buy It contest. Why? Because I have new books coming out. Two of them, in fact. One ebook from Samhain and one print anthology from Kensington. I have my author copies of both and thought, why not give some away?

If You Believe (eBook, Samhain Publishing)

When it comes to her love life, the name of Aubrey Mathison’s coffee shop says it all: “Bean There, Done That”. There’s only one harmless man in her life right now—the homeless one parked outside the shop. Except the crazy things he says keep coming true.

She has to laugh at “You’ll meet your soul mate today”, though. Divorce taught her that men as gorgeous as sexy police chief Price Delacroix are not to be trusted. She’s totally up for a one-night stand, but more than that? No, thanks.

Price bears his own scars from the past, but he knows instantly that Aubrey is his. How to convince her he wants more than to be her personal jungle gym? Cut her off. That means no more mattress gymnastics—until she starts seeing things his way.

Aubrey is just as determined Price’s campaign to wear down her resistance is going to fail, no matter how wickedly determined he is. Until her resident prophet spouts a new prediction: her soul mate’s life is in danger…

“Naughty or Nice” in Under the Covers (print anthology, Kensington Aphrodisia)

Dayna Sharp has the perfect job, the perfect man…the perfect life. So why is the prospect of marrying Mr. Wonderful so perfectly boring? It’s a question Dayna can’t shake when she brings her fiance home to meet her spectacularly un-boring family–and finds herself pursued by a bad-boy bearing gifts that could burn a hole in more than her Christmas stocking…

As always, I like to make it easy on you. Just comment on my post over on my blog and tell me which one you’d like to win–or tell me you’re not picky and would take either to go in both pools. I’ll draw a few random winners from the comments and will announce winners Monday afternoon.

Here’s a link to the post: http://www.crystaljordan.com/blog/2009/09/11/win-it-before-you-can-buy-it

I shared a recent realization with one of my dear friends tonight over pizza. I was reflecting on the fact that in my fourteenth year of agenting, it often seems that life was so much simpler when I worked for someone else. You know, the proverbial “man” (although my last boss in 1996 was also a dear friend. So calling him “the Man” seems not only inaccurate, but unfair.)

I reminisced about life before becoming an entrepreneur. That it had been peaceful to clock out at the end of the day, and not take my work home with me, sleep on it, and eat it for breakfast like some soldier with his MRE’s. I said this by way of explaining how, as both agent and author, I pretty much work seven days a week. Most in either profession tend to do that, so choosing to combine them definitely expanded the work cycle.

Or as my hubby is fond of joking about Sunday afternoons, “The best part of being self-employed is that you can nap on a work day.”

As I talked to my friend, thinking back to life before starting The Knight Agency, I spoke with the sort of wistful yearning one might expect. “Life was so uncomplicated then. Or maybe I was just…young.”

My wise friend replied, “I don’t know. Do you really think anyone ever goes home at night and doesn’t worry about their job?”

Good point, and it gave me pause. Because I have always worried about my work, even when I was employed by someone else. So I made a new point, a more enlightened one: “You know, maybe it had as much to do with the fact that I didn’t have children then. I came home, put on my Nikes and we went for a walk.” More thinking. “And there wasn’t email like now. No Blackberry, no constant connection to the Net.”

I stared into space, torn, halfway drawn to that lost world of simplicity, where there hadn’t been blogging and twitter and e-loops and all that Net energy. Nostalgic for a time when just hubby and I were together, and our nights belonged to us—but then I shook my head and knew exactly how I felt about those days. “They really were simpler times. But I like right now.”

I love the life I lead, as a mother and wife, even when it’s exhausting. I adore being an agent, even on the days of choppy waters, the ones when things don’t go well—and definitely during the open water, free sailing times. As for being an author, I was writing then, I’m writing today, only now I get paid to pen my crazy stories, and people actually read them. Not only that, but they interact with my characters, letting me know that they respond to the world playing out in my head—and on the page.

And I definitely enjoy being part of the digital frontier, the excitement of taking hold of new ideas every day, whether on someone’s blog, or following a retweet, or reading an online newsletter. The trick—and this is all ultimately an answer to “how do you juggle life as an agent, author and mother”—is learning when to step back, decompress and clear your head. It’s an ongoing battle, finding the willpower to turn off the computer and turn to my daughter and say, “Yes, sweetie, I’ll show you that new crochet stitch.” Or to overrule the urge to worry over some niggling business email I just received, one that hit my veins like five alarm chili.

I won’t lie and say that I’m always successful. I find that life in 2009 is more an ongoing war against mental noise than any I’ve ever known. But I’m a girl who loves a challenge. So with each new day I have to prioritize. I make sure that my time isn’t sifting through the Wicked Witch of the West’s mighty hourglass (scared me to death as a child), and do something every day that truly counts, whether in the family column, the agent column, or the authorial one. And hopefully, if I’m really at my best, I can make positive contributions to each of those columns, not to mention score extra points in the categories of health/wellness, friends/social, and especially spirituality.

As an agent and author, I would say that “time sucks” are my biggest enemy, with the Net scoring highest for potential damage. That’s why this past weekend I tweeted something like, “Hellmouth is to Buffy what Twitter is to writer.” We can dance along the edge of time’s wasteful abyss, but we sure as Buffy better not get sucked all the way in.

After all, look what happened to Sunnydale.

In the end, it’s so easy to get nostalgic about the past, but then we forget the glories that the digital age brings—new friends, new books, new opportunities. In the end, my “geographical” location out in cyberspace suits me perfectly. I just have to remember that my deepest roots are in the real world, with my family, friends and soul.

Well, and with my characters, but that’s a valid “real world”, at least for my readers…and for me. Balance, my friends. It’s all about the high wire.

People ask me how I do it all — agent, author, wife and mother. The answer is that some days I go a little crazy. It helps that for me it’s a short trip, so I can make it back fairly quickly. Actually, I’m not so much driven insane by doing everything as nothing. I have a serious nose-to-the-grindstone Type A personality. Nothing drives me as nuts as downtime.

In junior high and high school I filled up my lunch and study hall periods with extra classes, particularly English and art. I did theatre (both school and community) after classes and worked on our high school literary magazine. I couldn’t fit chorus into my schedule, but my hs luckily had a “homeroom chorus” for other over-achievers like me, so I found a way to make even homeroom productive. In case you haven’t guessed, I kind of thrive on being constantly challenged and crazy busy. As an adult, nothing has changed. Instead of waking up at 5:30 a.m. to do my homework, I rise at that ungodly hour so that I can beat my inner editor to consciousness. Otherwise, the perfectionist in me might never allow me to commit words to page.

If there’s time, I go back to sleep afterward for an hour or so before I wake up, grab copious amounts of caffeine, and start my working day, which goes from approximately 9:30 to 5:30, except when I start work at 8 a.m., or work on the weekends, or…. Okay, but let’s assume 9:30 to 5:30. During that time, I focus on my authors. (I have an agent of my own to handle my career so that I can keep it at an emotional and working distance.) There’s no such thing as a “normal” schedule for an agent, but on any given day I might be: making calls to editors alerting them to the awesome new novel coming their way, working on pitch letters and submissions, getting promotional material and finished books out to our subagents for submission to studios and foreign publishers, looking over royalty statements, asking questions about said statements, following up on payments/submissions/contracts/author’s copies, running an auction, negotiating terms, haggling out contract language, answering e-mails, running to the post office, putting together quote sheets, getting editorial notes to my authors, reading the trade magazines, requesting rights reversion…. The only way to do all that is to have a schedule constantly running in your head (or, in my case, on my desktop). An agent has to be highly organized, dare I say even a little anal retentive, in order to keep track of all the irons he/she has in the fire.

After work, there’s time out for dinner and family before it’s back to the grind about the time my son goes to bed, reading and evaluating manuscripts, proposals, queries, etc.

My weekends look much the same, except that for some reason, none of the editors will take my calls, and I might choose not to wade through legalese (contracts). However, unless I’m ahead on my reading, which never happens, I don’t get to take a day off. Not really. So, it’s a good thing I really love my job and my authors.
The folks who ask about timing, sometimes follow up with a question about whether I want to be a full-time writer. Well, actually…no. I don’t think I’d be any more productive with more time on my hands. In fact, I suspect I wouldn’t have that time for long before I filled it up with a million other things, none as fulfilling as the job I already do. Working with creative, talented, brilliant people, helping them achieve their dreams, being part of a very exclusive and impressive posse (for lack of a word to combine both fraternity and sorority)… it’s addictive. Last I heard, they hadn’t developed a twelve-step program for those of us helplessly in love with the written word. I suspect that unless they put it in writing and let someone entertaining like Mary Roach write it, none of us would take any notice, not with so many other wonderful books still to be read.

This week, I’ve dragged–um, asked very politely–Lucienne Diver and Deidre Knight to come on over to the Smutketeers to chat with us about the secret lives of agents who are also authors.

Stay tuned for the fun and games!

Crazy Little Thing Called Love by Crystal Jordan

Love can drive you over the edge. It can also let you fly.

An In The Heat of the Night story.

Pixie Parthon worked hard to make her music production company a success. Anyone who gets in her way gets the business end of her Fae magic. Her savvy business sense kept her family afloat for years, but now that her musician brother is mated and off on a world tour she’s feeling left in the dust.

Maybe it was a faint wish for a little love magic for herself, but she didn’t expect one night of cutting loose to leave her marked for life. A little love bite is one thing. Give up her hard-won independence to a pushy alpha werewolf? She’ll pass.

Malcon is just as shocked as Pixie, but for a different reason. From the moment he saw her, his desire went far beyond getting into her pants. When she agreed—begged—to be bitten, he believed she also sensed their destiny to be mates.

Now it’s too late. Nothing will convince Pixie that he has no intention of clipping her wings—not even a month’s worth of orgasms on call. Crazy as it sounds, love is all he wants from her. Even if it means letting her go…

Buy it here!