In four days and fifteen hours...

I'll be on a plane heading to Chicago!

Oh, wait, I had a book release this week so I should probably say something about that:
Anything You Want is in print now!!!! :)

Okay, now that that’s out of the way, let’s talk about something *really* important… RT!!

I leave for Chicago and the Romantic Times Convention in four days and fifteen hours (from the time I’m writing this). I have a number of goals for this trip and I thought I’d share them here. “They” say that you’re more likely to accomplish goals that you commit to publicly.

So here goes:

1. Get to Chicago without spending more than $50 on bag fees (and nothing inside breaking)

2. Drink a Sabrina’s Magic Pixie (recipe from my book—Anything You Want :))— with Kim and Dawn

3. Get PG Forte to start the first chapter of our new serial parody about the sheik

4. Convince Vivian Arend that I’m the cool naughty. She already LOVES Kinsey and Kelly so I’ve decided to ‘seduce’ her away from them. (I’m soooo not the cool naughty, btw!)

5. Take Mari Carr up on the drink she promised me on Twitter. What? Tweets aren’t binding legal documents? Well, that’s crap. Still… maybe I can convince her…

6. Buy my favorite editor dessert at least once

7. Get at least one funny story from the book signing**

8. Buy a book and get it signed by an author I’ve never heard of… because I’d love if someone did that to me just because

9. Naughty text Juniper, Skylar, Kate and Syd

10. Keep everything that’s *too* crazy and incriminating a secret (until my next blog post!)

Can't wait to see my girls who will be there and I have two words for the four that won't be there this time: New Orleans!

See you on the other side!

** some of you may know, but if not, I HATE book signings. Hate them. But I go. Because the last two I’ve been at have produced great stories from the authors I’m seated next to if nothing else. So I’m hoping for something good from Chicago! :)

Insanity in Action

So my significant other a.k.a. Master Chef suggests we should do the Insanity Workout together. If you're familiar with the workout you're probably feeling my pain. If you're not, let me fill you in. The Insanity workout is 60 days of intense pylometric drills and interval training, and it's the reason my legs feel like they're about to fall off this morning.

I've traditionally been one of those people who says every New Years that this year I'm going to make changes in terms of taking better care of myself. Most of the time my intentions are in the right place but my determination can crumble faster than the graham cracker crust on a thick slice of cherry cheesecake. This year I did a little better and began using Tiffany Roth's videos on Youtube. But even those did nothing to prepare for how tough Insanity is.

I know quite a few people have given Insanity a try and quickly abandoned it after burning themselves out trying to keep up with the instructor and the other people on the DVD's. And just to put this in perspective for you, almost all the people in the videos are already ripped and they're struggling to keep up with the routine. Going at your own pace is key and probably the only reason I haven't face-planted on my living room floor mid-video. Yet.

After 40 minutes of jogging, jumping (lots and lots of effing jumping), power squats, knee-lifts, tricep dips, moving push ups (cue laughter at the thought of even being able to do those when I my can barely manage knee push-ups) and a number of others, I'm ready to drop.

Dropping is not allowed according to Master Chef. Instead of sprawling face-down on the floor and wanting to be left there for at least a week, I'm forced...I mean...encouraged to keep moving for a little bit and down a sports drink to get myself back to normal. I'm thinking normal is not only way overrated, you pretty much have to leave normal at the door when you decide to put your body through such a killer workout.

The one thing I do know is that after a round or two of Insanity, I'm going to be able to do as much damage as those ass-kicking legs in my icon pic. :)

What about you guys? Have any of you tried Insanity or another hard-core workout regime? Any tips for me?

Guest Blogger Meggan Connors - Mystery, Suspense, or Romance? How Can I Categorize Real Life?

So, for the first time since my children were born, I went on a "girls only" vacation. Three days, sans kids for a vacation. Not for a conference, not for work. Just for fun. It was lovely.

And while I was there, I realized that, after sixteen years of being with the same man, my flirting skills are severely out of practice.

My single friend's, however, are not.

Now, let me be clear: my flirting skills were probably never that great. This particular friend had much better flirting skills than I ever had, back when we were twenty-one. So I decided if I'm going to write the contemporary floating around in my head, I really should observe flirting as it occurs in the wild.

It was fascinating to watch the single person in his/her natural habitat. I write historicals and paranormals, where the laws of normal courtship behavior are somewhat different than they are for today's single people. As I watched, serving my function as "the grenade" as my husband put it, I kept wanting to pull the Goddess strings.

As the evening unfolded, I realized I didn't have the power to change the course of the evening. For once, in watching a courtship take place, I didn't have the power to make things more subtle, or less obnoxious (mostly me, as my filter had turned off. Like my muse, my filter is surprisingly fickle). And it disturbed me more than I care to admit.

What do you mean, I don't get to control this?

Most of my friends are married, and I've haven't been to a bar with a single gal on the prowl in probably a decade. As I chatted with my friend's, um, intended, I realized how badly I wanted to control the entire situation. I wanted to categorize what genre this evening will fall into, thereby giving me a clue as to how it will end.

Is it a mystery/suspense?

Because if it is, this darling, obviously bright, and undeniably rich kid (and yes, I referred to him as "the kid") is a serial killer, and there's a nondescript van sitting in the parking lot. In which case, my friend is not the heroine of the tale. This night will end with whips and chains, and not in a good way.

Is it a romance?

Because then, after a series of misadventures, the doctor and the well-educated kid will fall in love, and the happy couple will make their home in the country, where the doctor will find a job in a small, local hospital. They'll have a passel of kids and living happily ever after.

Is it erotica?

In that case, after a night of torrid passion that I won't get into here (but which might entail the aforementioned whips and chains, but in a good way), the couple may or may not part ways. But both parties will be satisfied. Since it's an erotica and not a cautionary tale, no one goes home with some random STD, either.

Oh, and if I controlled the evening, I could later go back and delete all those really obnoxious things I said. As I mentioned, my filter was disabled at the time. I thought I was funny. I may not have been.

As it turned out, the night didn't fall into any of those categories. The "grenade" (yes, me) worked her magic, and the female lead went back to her room with nothing more than a business card. No whips or chains involved. Instead, it was Advil and water and a shower.

I may not be the author goddess of real life, but I am a darn good hook-up grenade.

Meggan makes her home in the Wild West with her lawman husband, two children, and a menagerie of pets. When she's not writing or working the day job, she can be found playing with her kids, hiking in the mountains, or reading a book.

Print Release: Old Sins, Long Shadows

Tomorrow is the release day for the print version of Old Sins, Long Shadows (Book 2 in the Children of Night series). And because I have very few brain cells left and I'm saving those I still have to waste at RT next week (Next week! How did that happen? No matter, I can't wait. Note to self: buy more Red Velvet Chocolate Tea) I've decided, in lieu of actually writing a post, I'm basically going to borrow Erin's post from when Just Like That was released in print. I have some very good reasons for doing that. According to Erin, at the time this was her favorite book. Maybe it still is, but we'd have to ask her about that.  Either way, ditto with me and Sins. There's just something special about Conrad and Damian's relationship. Also, coincidentally, Just Like That was the second book in the series. Again, ditto.  See what I mean? That post was meant to be stolen by me.

So, on with the theft...

Erin listed several reasons for why this was her favorite book. Let's borrow...er, I mean let's explore what those were:

Erin's reason #1. Her hero, Sam. Here's what she had to say about him:  " I don't know why but Sam was an easy hero to write. He just behaved the whole time- well, at least when he *didn't* I was okay with it! ;)"

Well, Old Sins, Long Shadows has not one but two heroes and they're both very easy too...to write, of course. What else did you think I meant? lol! On the other hand, they never behaved. In fact, I doubt they even know what the word means. But what else would you expect from vampires? Being bad boys kinda works for them. At least I think so.

Erin's reason #2. No cover drama. Uh, yeah. Right with her on that one too. Sins has a gorgeous cover. (see it over there on the right? isn't it purty?) And I think it looks even better in print than it did as a digital cover. When I received my author copies, I may have danced around the room a bit.

Erin's reason #3. No edit drama. Well, I never have edit drama anyway, so...

Erin's reason #4. The guys. Hmm. Yeah, I think I already covered that. Easy, sexy and bad...which is very, very good.

Erin's reason #5. Her heroine, Danika. Yeah...I don't really think this book has a heroine, per se, so I guess I'll just have to let that one slide.

Anyway, I will be giving away a signed copy this week, so leave a comment here and you'll be entered to win. I'll draw a winner on Friday.

And here's an excerpt. One of my favorite scenes with the boys...


“Stop dropping your guard!” Damian scolded with uncharacteristic harshness. He’d coaxed Julie into fencing with him, in hopes a little swordplay would help him expend some of the pent-up frustration he’d been left with following his interview with Conrad. It wasn’t working, however. The girl was proving to be far too timid an opponent for his needs. “Focus, chica. You’re too distracted tonight.”

Julie huffed out an angry breath. “Pot, meet kettle,” she snapped and Damian knew he couldn’t refute the charge.

“Again,” he sighed, annoyed with them both. He was distracted, damn it, but how could he not be? Ever since the morning after the party he’d been waiting for the other shoe to drop. He knew he’d pushed Conrad too hard. It had been madness to taunt him. It was foolish and dangerous…and yet, Conrad had not reacted in any of the ways Damian had come to expect. Quiet, subdued, forgiving, restrained; this was not the vampire Damian knew and loved. Fool that he was, he suspected he might actually prefer a Conrad who shouted and growled and made his feelings plain. At least then you knew where he stood with him.

You mean at least you thought you might tempt him to lay his hands on you in anger, an evil voice inside his head insisted. Since you can’t get him to do so in any other way. 


That was probably true as well, but if so it was of an order of idiocy beyond anything Damian had sunk to in a very long time. And that was definitely not something he wanted to dwell on.

He froze for an instant when the door to the gym opened and the object of his obsession appeared. Fabulous. Just what I need. He and Julie both stared at Conrad in surprise. As far as Damian knew, this was the first time he’d been to the gym since his abduction—a good sign, surely. It was just Damian’s bad luck he’d chosen to show up now.

“Have you come to work out?” he asked, trying hard not to stare. After all, it was hardly the first time he’d seen Conrad dressed so casually. Even though his current outfit—yoga pants and fitted T—left little to the imagination, he’d also seen him in far, far less. He should be inured to the sight. Still, it had been a while.

Conrad shrugged. “It’s a possibility. I haven’t decided yet.” He glanced around vaguely, then took a seat on one of the weight benches. “Go on with what you were doing,” he urged, as he picked up a small barbell.
“Don’t let me disturb you.”

Dios mio. Damian sighed. As if it had ever been possible for him not to be disturbed when Conrad was anywhere in the vicinity. Still, the attempt needed to be made. For the sake of his pride, if nothing else. He nodded to Julie and they began again—only to be interrupted almost immediately.

“Julie, you’re holding back,” Conrad observed, after Damian had scored another easy point off the girl. “Push him a little. C’mon, you can do better than that.”

Damian bit back a growl. The one area where Conrad had mostly treated him as an equal was in the care and training of the twins. It didn’t matter that they were in agreement, in this case, Damian still did not need—or appreciate—Conrad’s sideline coaching.

“Again,” he growled, noting with sympathy how Julie’s jaw had clenched, the flush that colored her cheeks. Of course she would be flustered and embarrassed with both of them harping on her like this. How could she not? He could barely bring himself to offer any additional instruction himself, at this point, lest she feel herself completely browbeaten.

They sparred for several minutes more and all the while Conrad, his own workout forgotten, continued to volunteer advice. It was obvious he had misconstrued Damian’s silence as an invitation to take over the lesson. Finally, Damian could take no more.

“Stop!” he ordered.

Julie’s eyes flashed. She glared at him, clearly exasperated. “What now?”

Damian ignored her and turned instead toward Conrad. “Do you really think you’re that much better at this?”

Conrad appeared momentarily startled. “At what?” he asked cautiously.

“All of it! The fencing, the coaching, the sword fighting.”

“Sword fighting? Is that what you call what you’re doing?” Conrad’s eyes glimmered with amusement.
“Well, as to that, I should hope so, my dear. After all, I do have quite a few years on you. I dare say I could still teach you a few things.”

“Do you? Bueno.” Damian motioned to Julie. “Hand me your foil.”

“What?” Julie’s eyes widened.

“Your foil, chica. Now.”

She handed it over reluctantly. Damian took it and executed a courtly bow. “And now, if il Maestro would be so kind. Perhaps you’d favor us with a small lesson?”

A disbelieving smile curved Conrad’s lips. “Are you saying you wish to fight me?”

“Unless, perhaps, you fear it would be too strenuous for someone of your advanced age?”

Conrad frowned. “No, I believe I can still manage it.” He rose to his feet. “Although it might prove embarrassing for you.”

“I’ll risk it,” Damian replied, promptly hurling the foil at Conrad’s head—tip first—not overly concerned with whether Conrad would catch it, or it would catch him. A moot point anyway, since Conrad easily dodged and spun and caught hold of the hilt as it flew past.

Julie scurried away to sit on one of the benches. Conrad approached, idly swishing his blade through the air. A fell smile curved his lips. “Very well. Now, what am I wagered?”

“Wagered?”

“It is customary, is it not? Or am I mistaken? Did you not just issue me a challenge?”

“I did. But why waste time now on details? Let us just say that the winner may demand from the loser whatever boon he wishes.”

“Rather a useless victory,” Conrad observed coolly. “Is it not? As your sire, I’m already entitled to ask for whatever I want from you.”

“Ah. You’re assuming you’ll win, then?”

Conrad’s answering smile was so engaging Damian might have had serious trouble resisting its attraction if he weren’t so angry. And if Conrad didn’t compound his anger by replying with insufferable confidence, “But, of course.”

“Don’t,” Damian advised, getting quickly into position. “En garde!”

Buy it here on sale!


Old Sins, Long Shadows
Children of Night, Book 2

Published by: Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
Cover by: Kanaxa
Publication Date: 04-03-2012
Length: 296 Pages

ISBN: 978-1-60928-470-1


Living forever is hard, but loving forever? That’s damn near impossible.

1856, New York City. Moments after Conrad Quintano drives his life-mate away, heartache and guilt descend around his heart like a pall. Convinced that Damian’s hatred is as permanent as the scars Conrad has inflicted on him, Conrad steels himself for an eternity of emotional torture.

Present day, San Francisco. For the sake of vampire twins Marc and Julie Fischer, Conrad and Damian present a united parental front. In reality, their truce is a sham. Conrad, weakened by his recent ordeal, struggles against the urge to bring his mate back to his bed. And Damian misinterprets Conrad’s explosive temper as proof their relationship is irreparably broken.

When an old enemy’s quest to create a dangerous new breed of vampire threatens the twins’ lives—and the precarious state of vampire peace—it’s imperative the estranged lovers put the past behind them. Or the shadows of the past will tear apart everything they hold dear.

Product Warnings:
This book may not be suitable for readers with an aversion to emotionally damaged vampire heroes. Caution is advised if you have experienced prior sensitivity to any of the following: costume parties, fencing lessons, interspecies, inter-generational or intra-gender dating, occasional mild violence, and/or recreational blood-drinking.

Love, Freebies, and What I Wore

It’s now ten days and counting until I head off to Chicago for this year’s Romantic Times Convention. This means I have ten more days of being me before I assume my alternate identity as Romance Author. You see, RT is all about alternate identities. Sometimes these alternate identities are actually accompanied by costumes, but more frequently they’re accompanied by a change in attitude. It’s a place where you no longer have to try to reconcile your writing with your daily life. For five days or so, your writing is your daily life.

Last year seven of us Naughty Nine made it to RT. This year, we’re down to five—PG, Kinsey, Kelly, Erin, and me. We’ve been emailing each other for weeks now: “What are you bringing?”, “What should we do about XYZ?”, “Who’s got room in her suitcase for ABC?”, and most of all “What are you going to wear?”

Now some people might think that last question is petty, but I’d argue it’s crucial. Coming up with an outfit that matches your persona is a major part of events like this. Plus, as Ilene Beckerman shows in Love, Loss, and What I Wore, a lot of us tend to mark events by the clothes that went along with them.

I’m going to wear a variety of things myself—none of them geared for any particular party (although I’m bringing my jeans and Pueblo jewelry for the Samhain party). For example, there’s my Diva Jacket:

I bought it at a small boutique in a small town, Morrison, Colorado. If you’re from the Denver area, you’ll recognize Morrison as the town that’s just outside the gates of Red Rocks Amphitheatre, a famous setting for rock, country, pop, and just about every other kind of music show. The boutiques in Morrison (there’s more than one) specialize in clothes that appeal to people who are either going to or coming from bigtime concerts and who maybe picture themselves (just for a few moments anyway) as rock stars. But for me, when I saw this jacket in all its burned out velvet and sequin glory, I thought “RT.” I’m thinking it’ll look great at our Cover Model Karaoke Party with the Smutketeers. Of course, then I’ll have to wear it to our workshop on group blogging right afterward, but what the hell, it’s RT, right?

Then there’s this jacket:

I got it in Santa Fe at a wonderful boutique called Zephyr. It’s by Wabi Sabi Wares, a one-woman company based in Colorado Springs that takes authentic vintage kimonos and refashions them into new jackets. This is silver silk in a relaxed, boxy style that I just love. I figure it’s a natural for a book signing or two. Comfortable, funky, able to keep me warm in large, echoing ballrooms full of Ann Rice fans.

Last year I bought a Wabi Sabi Wares vest at the same boutique. Looks like this:

I’ll be wearing it too—more funk, more style, more RT.

So anyway, if you’re around the Chicago area on April 11-15, drop by the Hyatt O’Hare in Rosemont. There’ll be lots of romance authors running around, including Smutketeers, Naughty Novelists, and me. In my sequined glory. How can you pass that up?

The Joy of Getting It Over With Or, Why I Wish Someone Would Invent a Tabata Regime for Writing.

Dorothy Parker once said, "I hate writing, I love having written." I feel exactly the same way.

A lot of people who hear this, especially my writer buddies, find it odd. I love my secret career; I love the friends I've made, the emails from readers who enjoy my books and take the time to tell me about it, the extra money that allows me to provide things for my family I otherwise couldn't.

I love creating characters and building worlds. I'm not crazy about having to think up stuff to happen in those worlds, to those characters--plotting is hard--but I love inventing stories. It's just the getting it down on paper, or into pixels, that sucks.

I've got some pretty serious attention deficit issues. As I tell my Diva, that's not an excuse--it's a burden. For each hour I spend on my laptop I probably get, at best, twenty minutes of real writing done. The rest of the time is spent Not Writing, at which I excel. I'm currently stuck at about a quarter of the way through two WIPs (works in progress), and I'm starting to panic because with all the current chaos in my life (we're doing a bunch of house renovations and living out of suitcases) I have even less time to write than I normally do and I'm even more distracted than I typically am.  My Diva is on ADD medication and I've seriously thought about popping one of her pills just to see if it helps.

The thing is, I adore the feeling I get when I've managed to pound out a few good paragraphs. There's (almost) nothing better than reading a few pages of WIP and thinking, "That's good. I wrote that, and it's good." And the feeling when I turn in a completed manuscript, and my publisher offers me contract? Elation. Ecstasy. Ebullient rejoicing. (At least, from what I remember. My last book was turned in over a year ago.)

Another thing I find hard to do, but love the feeling of having done, is working out. I'm approaching fifty and I'm not by nature slim, so if I want to lose weight, I have to exercise. Some people really can lose weight by diet alone; I'm not one of them. Even though I know how essential exercise is to a healthy mind and body, though, I can think of a million excuses not to do it on any given day.

But once I'm on the treadmill or the elliptical, or once I'm outside with a dog or two on a leash, I actually enjoy it. I like running with the dogs, and when I'm on cardio machines I can read, which I never have time to do. (I can't say the same thing for writing -- even when I'm in the zone, pounding out the paragraphs, I don't enjoy the process. I can't read a book or watch TV while I'm writing.)

I love how I feel after I've worked out. I'm not talking about the mental or emotional satisfaction I get from crossing it off my endless to do list. I mean I love the physical feeling after a really hard workout. I've been living at my sister's for two weeks while our house is repaired. She lives in a huge, suburban master planned community. I make fun of her being a Fort Bend Barbie, but this place is gorgeous, with miles of tree lined walking trails. I've been doing hour-long power walks, and when I come home I'm a delicious kind of exhausted. My legs are rubbery while the rest of my body is all loose and warm, I feel calm yet kind of buzzed, more focused yet more relaxed. I feel even better if I've spent an hour swimming. But even so, even knowing how awesome I'll feel after I'm done, it's still hard to force myself to carve out the time for it.

So I was pretty excited to learn about tabata, a particularly intense form of interval training. I already do interval training when I'm on the cardio machines at the gym; tabata is a shorter and more intense version. A four minute tabata session is said to be the equivalent of forty-five minutes of cardio. If you do it right, according to my sister and others I've talked to, it's the longest four minutes of your life because you're going as flat out, hard core, high intensity as you can. The first few times she did it, my very fit sister thought she'd throw up. The results, she says, are well worth it. (Seriously. Read about this, it's fascinating.) As soon as I kick my latest round of bronchitis I'm going to try it.


Now if only I could figure out a way to do the same thing with writing...

What chores or unfun activities would you like to apply the tabata principles to?

Message to reviewers...

This past weekend I came across a blog at a review site that got me thinking (again) about the issue of authors commenting on reviews. Mary at Mary’s Naughty Whispers (ETA:  Mary has removed her original post and the comments but you can still read some of her thoughts there) presented a different perspective on the issue. In her opinion, it is courteous for authors to thank the reviewer for reading and reviewing their book. She said: “My main problem is when some author contact me, ask me to review their story and once my review is published on my blog, never feel bond to even acknowledge the time I spent to give a review.”

Some authors responded in the comments at Mary’s blog, trying to explain their point of view. There was reference to a recent post at Dear Author “Is there room on the internet for authorial interaction?”. That post and the ensuing comments talked about different kinds of interaction—more than just saying “thank you” they also talked about authors who try to explain points of their story to the reviewer, or defend their story, or even authors who defend each other. The general consensus was that authors should not do that by commenting on a review, but should use a different platform such as their own blog to explain their perspective. The post included a comment from Meljean Brook: “I think there’s room for author interaction in the comments of a review, but it’s very limited room. In general — unless the reviewer has notified the author directly about the presence of a review and invites a reply — I think that it’s best not to comment at all. We all know that many authors are online, seeking reviews of their work and looking in on discussions; there’s no need to tap the readers on the shoulder and say, “Hey, I’m here,” because it’s likely to have a chilling effect…and for good or bad, the best thing for an author is for readers to talk about her book. Why shut that down?”

Comments on the post came from readers, authors and other reviewers. Las said “But I don’t want to seem the responding to reviews in the comments, even to post something as simple as “Glad you liked it,” or “Sorry it didn’t work for you.””

Donna said: “The minute I see an author’s comment appear below a review, no matter how gracious or insightful, it has a chilling effect. It changes the nature of the discussion. I suddenly feel called upon to put politeness before honesty, and I either refrain from commenting, or refrain from commenting honestly.”

Mandi, who is a reviewer, said: “I’m not necessarily against author interaction in certain circumstances, but overall I don’t think their comments on reviews helps the discussion. When I get into discussions about books on Twitter, I realize that the author of the book I’m talking about can read my discussion, but I don’t really like it if they pop-up into it. … There are so many factors that play into online interaction, I don’t have a conclusive answer, but I do lean towards less involvement from authors.”

Jane from Dear Author, who is of course a reviewer, commented on her own post to someone else: “Thank yous have always made me feel uncomfortable because I didn’t write a positive review for the author, but because I loved the book. Thanking me implies I did the author some kind of favor.”

Commenters at Mary’s Naughty Whispers pointed out that thanking a reviewer for a positive review can be seen as sucking up to the reviewer, which is the point Jane makes above.

Although I’ve been a published author for a few years, I feel like I’m still learning my way in this business. When I first got reviews, I was careful to thank every reviewer who reviewed my books. I said, “Thank you for taking the time to read and review my book.” I was not thanking them for a good review; in fact there were times where I wasn’t all that thrilled with the review and still sent that message. If the review was really positive, I would sometimes add “I’m glad you enjoyed it.” In a couple of cases where the review wasn’t so great, I added, “I’m sorry the story didn’t work for you.” 

Looking back at that, I cringe a little that I did that, but in one case it turned out to be a positive thing. The reviewer appreciated my comment and because of it chose to read another of my books which she very much enjoyed.

After reading the Dear Author post and comments noted above, I had to rethink whether it was appropriate to thank reviewers for taking the time to read and review my books. I still think it is. But I have stopped doing it on the actual blog post and rather usually email the reviewer privately.

Mary likes to see thank you comments from authors on her blog whereas others do not. Mary says: “I am very humble when an author decide to leave a comment when the review was not requested by her. I find it very (VERY) nice and it is appreciated as it should be without double meaning.”

Mary also says: “I must be in the rare portion of reviewer thinking that without an author, I would not fulfill my reading passion.” She thinks there is a mutual gain to be had when a reviewer posts a review and an author comments on it or quotes it on their blog, website or newsletter, or re-Tweets it. And I agree—there is benefit for both of us. While Jane at Dear Author doesn’t like the implication that she has done an author some kind of favor by reviewing their book, the truth is…she has (positive or negative review). 

Here’s my message to reviewers:

Even if I don’t comment on your blog or email you to thank you for the review, please know that I do appreciate you taking the time to read my books and the time it takes to write and post a review. Every review of my book brings attention to it in a way I can’t do myself. There are so many books out there, when a reviewer reads one of mine, I am very grateful. Authors need reviewers to help spread the word about our books. Of course we always hope it’s going to be positive, but we know it’s not always going to be. Even so, it is appreciated. 

It’s a fine line to walk for authors. Do you comment and risk making the reviewer uncomfortable because they feel like you’re sucking up to them? Do you not comment and risk offending the reviewer for not appreciating the time they spent reading and writing the review? Will posting even a simple thank you prevent other readers from commenting about the book because they know the author is present there? What do you think?