2009-01-21
2008-06-23
George Carlin R.I.P.
2008-06-06
A little help from my friends?
Vampires. Geez. What next? But, I'm reclaiming my Queen of Angst crown with this one, let me tell you, so it's all good. Comic angst...my new niche.
My vampires are some of the chummiest characters it has ever been my pleasure to write. I'm posting an excerpt below, to show you what I mean. But, first, let me explain about the title of this post. The excerpt is from the first book in the series--did I mention that already? The title of this book is In the Dark, which will be followed by Old Sins, Long Shadows and then by either The Luminosity Factor or Swallowed by the Light, or both...depending on how the story arc works out. As I mentioned: still in the works.
The series is NOT romance. It's more what I like to call Vamp-noir. But will probably be shelved under urban fantasy. But, I can't think of a name for the series. And I'm OCD enough to really, really need one.
So, I'm running a contest. I'm going to give away a copy of any book in my backlist (see my stacks at the Wicked Whispers Library for the full list) to the person who comes up with the series title that makes me want to scream Eureka! 'Cause, right now, I got nuthin' and I'm driving my family nuts by asking them every other day or so what I should call the damn thing.
Basically, the series revolves around a nest of vampires living in San Francisco, headed up by a twelve hundred year old vampire named Conrad. Here's part of the blurb for the first book:
When you live forever, you’re bound to make a few mistakes. Especially when yours is a life led in the dark.
In 1969, a twelve hundred year old vampire named Conrad attempts to 'turn' the free-spirited teenage runaway with whom he’s fallen in love. What happens next is something no one saw coming: newborn vampire twins.
Forty years later, Conrad has gone missing and the twins are called upon to help find him. What happens after that is a tale of blood, betrayal and...vampire family values.
As you can see, not quite 'Three Men and a Baby--with teeth', because the babies in question are all grown up when chapter one opens, but it's got a lot of humor mixed in with all the angst. Besides Conrad and the twins, book one also features two other major vamps (along with a couple of non-related vampires) Damian and Armand--both of whom are Conrad's friends, confidantes, lovers, children. See? This is why people love vampires, I think. You just can't get those kinds of really complex relationships anywhere else. But, enough about that. Here's the excerpt--a fairly self explanatory little scene. Conrad and Armand are, as already explained, vampires. Desert Rose--the hippie chick for whom Conrad is falling--has no idea.
Thanksgiving Day
Desert Rose was pouting. Arms crossed, she gazed at him sullenly from one end of his couch. Lying back against the cushions at the other end, Conrad smiled at her indulgently. He hadn’t been expecting to see her here this evening. Even though she’d taken to spending every weekend with him, tonight was Thursday—definitely part of the week, as far as he was concerned. However, the fact that it was Thanksgiving apparently made it the start of the weekend, in her mind.
"I told you about it last weekend. I was hoping you’d show. You’d have liked it."
"Yes, I’m sure I would have," he said as he pulled her towards him, rearranging her limbs until she was reclining against his chest; her head resting on his shoulder; her long hair swept to one side. Unexpected, yes. But definitely not unwelcome, he thought, as he began to lick lazily at her neck. After all, three days was quite long enough to go without. He’d grown quite addicted to the taste of her over the course of the past month. Which would have worried him, if he’d been planning on turning her. He wasn’t. "It sounds like it was a...real happening scene."
On the other side of the room, where he was seated at the secretary desk, writing checks to pay the monthly bills, Armand glanced up at him, his expression pained. "A happening scene? Mon Dieu." Then his eyes focused on the girl who had settled happily into Conrad’s embrace, her eyes closed, her neck exposed. For an instant, Armand’s tongue danced lightly across the points of his teeth. He sighed quietly as he bent his head and went back to work.
"Well, it was," Desert Rose insisted, her voice already taking on the slightly dreamy tone that indicated she was so relaxed she hadn’t even noticed he’d begun to feed. "With music and dancing and...and more food than...well, than you’ve probably ever seen in your life. Corn and beans and squash and cranberry sauce and those little pearl onions. And mashed potatoes, scalloped potatoes, sweet potatoes, carrots, peas, three kinds of pie, a big chocolate cake. Not to mention homemade bread and biscuits and pumpkin soup. Oh, and there was even an entire turkey made out of tofu."
"It sounds delightful." Conrad raised his head. "Armand?"
"Oui?"
"Qu’est-ce que c’est...toe-foo?"
Armand looked up again, his face perplexed. "Je ne sais pas," he replied with a shrug. Then, his face clearing, he snapped his fingers. " Ah, non, non, non. Il est Chinois. It’s something to do with soybeans. A kind of a paste, I think?"
"Soybeans?" Shaking his head, Conrad went back to his meal. Soybeans. What next? He could eat human food, of course, but it had very little taste and no nutritional value for him, so he rarely bothered anymore. In the past, of course, things had been different. He’d had to eat regularly then, as part of his attempts to fit in, to pass for human. But, he hadn’t felt the need for such subterfuge in many, many years and so, being as he was now a man of some means and could afford not to eat, he didn’t.
"I wish you’d been there," Desert Rose murmured, still pouting. "You could have met some of my friends."
"I’m sure that would have been very charming," Conrad lied and, sensing she was growing restless, quickly licked the wounds shut and released her. "But, you know, mignonne, Armand is Canadian and they don’t really celebrate Thanksgiving up there. It would have been rude to leave him alone."
Sitting up, the girl glanced at them both. "Well, he could have come too, you know. All sorts of people were there."
"Merci, chérie." Armand smiled at her. "And we do celebrate Thanksgiving in Canada. It’s just not all about the food there." Casting a sly glance at Conrad he added, "But Conrad is not an American either, you know."
"You’re not?" She turned back to look at him. "Where are you from?"
Conrad felt himself frowning. "Originally?" He had to think about that for a moment. The part of Europe he hailed from had been called so many different things over the centuries, most of which would mean nothing to her. "Rome," he answered, finally, taking the easy way out.
"So you’re like...Italian?" She eyed him curiously.
"Close enough," he said, ignoring Armand’s muttered, "...but no cigar."
"So, what would you eat on Thanksgiving then? Spaghetti, or pizza, or lasagna or something?"
Conrad grimaced as thoughts of garlic threatened to sour his stomach. "I don’t really care for those either."
Cocking her head to the side, she frowned at him thoughtfully. "You know, now that I think about it, I never see you eat anything. Why is that?"
From across the room, Armand choked back a laugh. "C’est parce que vos yeux sont fermés, chérie," he answered. That’s because your eyes are shut.
"That’s enough from you," Conrad growled, throwing a pillow at his head.
"What did he say?" the girl asked, glancing at both of them again.
"He said it’s because I’m always on diet."
copyright PG Forte 2008 all rights reserved
2008-03-05
Geek Love
Does anyone know? Does anyone care?
Anyway, since I'm the Whisperette in charge of hotties for the month of March, it's a subject I had to think about. A lot. Because, to tell you the truth, hot nerds is not my usual fare. But they're up there now, so go, check 'em out. Tell me how I did. There's a potential prize in it...
To be honest, when I first thought of hot nerds my mind immediately went to fiction, not photos. So, I'm tossing in a mention of my favorite hot nerd Dexter Travis from Jodi Lynn Copeland's excellent story, Somebody's Hero. Mmm. Hot jungle love.
Since I've sworn off saying 'I'll never write a book about (fill in the blank)', I'm sure that someday I'm going to end up writing a story with a nerd/geek for a hero too.
Maybe.
I'm not usually a fan, however, which probably explains why, out of all my heroes I can't really think of one who qualifies for the title.
Well, okay, possibly Mike from Let Me Count the Ways. He is an accountant, after all, but far less nerdy than Claire, perhaps, suspects. As this excerpt perhaps will show...
In this scene, Mike is attempting to impress Claire (who's just picked him up after a party) by giving her a hot stone massage...
"I believe you said something about a massage?" Claire murmured in teasing tones.
"Hmm?" I wrenched my eyes away with difficulty. My gaze drifted up towards her face, taking the slow, scenic route past all her naked glory. "What?"
Claire arched one eyebrow. "My massage?"
Crap. So much for repairing the damage I’d done with my earlier performance. Here I was, acting like an ass all over again.
"Right." Standing, I gathered up her clothes. "Why don’t you roll over on your stomach and I’ll get started.
Averting my eyes as she repositioned herself on the bed, I dropped Claire’s stockings and garter on top of her shoes. Her panties I let fall in the space between the table and the bed where I hoped they’d go unnoticed.
Inexcusable, I know, but given how badly I was screwing up, I suspected this was likely to be a one time event. That being the case, I knew I’d need something with which to console myself in the years ahead.
I lifted the bottle of massage oil from the pot of water, where I’d put it to warm up, and poured some into my palm. The heady sweet scents of almond, honey amber and musk filled the air as I rubbed my hands together. Using a light effleurage stroke I quickly covered Claire’s back with the oil, and then coated her arms and legs as well. Then I turned away to remove the first rock from the pot.
"Well, that was very nice," Claire said as she started to get up. "Thank you."
I glanced at her over my shoulder and frowned. "No you don’t. Where do you think you’re going? Lie back down. We’re just getting started."
She looked surprised, but she did as I said. I squirted oil over the stone in my hand and then turned back to her.
"That was not the massage," I said as I brushed the hair away from her neck and then began to gently rub the stone in small circles down her neck and across her shoulder. "That was just getting you ready. Are you always this impatient?"
"Yes," she replied, biting the word out sharply, and I couldn’t decide whether her tone was teasing or annoyed. "Actors have very short attention spans. Are you always so bossy?"
I sighed. "Probably. I’ve been running my own company for a long time now. I guess I’ve gotten used to it."
"Hmph," she muttered darkly. "You have an answer for everything, don’t you?" And then we both fell silent. The muscles at the back of her neck were knotted. I rubbed harder. I’d been right about the tension. For an instant, I actually considered telling her that. Luckily, I reconsidered the impulse. Being right was a lot like being boss. Invaluable in business but, more often than not, a complication everywhere else.
"Omigod," Claire murmured a moment later. "What is that? Whatever you’re doing, it feels wonderful."
"Haven’t you ever had a hot stone massage? The heat is supposed to help relax the muscles and the pressure is different from what you can get using just your hands."
"I see. I guess you must do this sort of thing often."
I switched hands and went to work on the other side of her neck. "Well, no, I wouldn’t say often. Occasionally though."
"So... you just happened to have everything you needed on hand? Is that what you’re telling me?"
"It doesn’t take much, you know. Just massage oil. Rocks. A pot to heat them up in. It’s really pretty simple."
"Simple. Right." Claire shook her head. "Amazing. Fashion. Architecture. Decorating. Classic cars. Hot stone massage. Next thing you’ll tell me is that you mix your own massage oil too."
My hand faltered. "Well, yeah, actually, I—I did."
"Unbelievable. Mike, are you sure you’re an accountant?"
I laughed. "I guess you’d better hope I am, huh?"
"I guess so," she muttered. "Jeez. You’re full of surprises tonight."
"Good surprises, I hope?" I quipped lightly.
Claire sighed and it was a moment before she answered. "Very good. Just very... unexpected."
©2007 PG Forte All Rights Reserved
PG Forte
Erotic Romance
Wicked Whispers
Liquid Silver Books
Amelia June
Melissa Glisan
Jodi Lynn Copeland
Let Me count the Ways
2008-02-11
Now Appearing...or disappearing at Fictionwise!
Damn, nearly got all political there. And you know I'm saving that for tomorrow night's Berkeley City Council meeting.
But, back to my original point. I was somewhat pleasantly surprised to find today out that ALL TWELVE of my books (including the entire Oberon series) are available for purchase at Fictionwise. I'd have been a lot closer to ecstatic if it weren't for the fact that, in order to find them right now, you sort of have to stumble upon them by accident because if you search under PG Forte you'll only see two or three books listed, if you search under P. G. Forte you'll get eleven. If you search under titles...well, sometimes you'll get this message:
"There appears to be a system problem at this time. The page you're looking for does not appear to exist. Please contact customer support."
Especially when it comes to Let Me Count the Ways which, quite magically, is neither new nor old, there or not there, authored by me...or not extant at all, apparently.
But, not to worry. IF you wish to purchase any of the books at Fictionwise (at--I'll admit it, considerable savings to you, especially right now when they're all showing up at 20% off) here's a list of URLs
So go, buy, enjoy, rate...think BLUE. lol! And, if you're in the mood to see what's been occupying my time this past week (and just when I'm supposed to be getting ready to leave town for a week of R&R--that would be research and retail therapy--in the wilds of New Mexico, too) check out these new lenses I made on Squidoo...
http://www.squidoo.com/oberoncalifornia.us
And now the books:
Waiting for the Big One
http://www.fictionwise.com/ebooks/eBook50451.htm
Love From A to Z
http://www.fictionwise.com/ebooks/eBook50463.htm
Let Me Count the Ways
http://www.fictionwise.com/ebooks/eBook63628.htm
Scent of the Roses
http://www.fictionwise.com/ebooks/eBook26584.htm
A Sight to Dream Of
http://www.fictionwise.com/ebooks/eBook27370.htm
Sound of a Voice That is Still
http://www.fictionwise.com/ebooks/eBook33453.htm
A Taste of Honey
http://www.fictionwise.com/ebooks/eBook33454.htm
Touch of a Vanished Hand
http://www.fictionwise.com/ebooks/eBook37774.htm
The Spirit of the Place
http://www.fictionwise.com/ebooks/eBook37779.htm
Visions Before Midnight
http://www.fictionwise.com/ebooks/eBook37777.htm
Dream Under the Hill
http://www.fictionwise.com/ebooks/eBook38444.htm
And Shadows Have Their Ending
http://www.fictionwise.com/ebooks/eBook38671.htm
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2007-12-05
Chatting All Day Thursday
Come and join me!!
I'll be chatting at After Dark all day Thursday with fellow Wicked Whispers Authors Amelia June and Melissa Glisan.
The link to join in on the fun is: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/rb_afterdark/
I hope to see a lot of you there!
Also, it's now official. Let me Count the Ways, the third book in my LA Love Lessons series, is available for purchase through Liquid silver Books
I'm planning a special contest to celebrate the event. Details to follow.
But, for now, info and excerpt available here:
PG Forte
Website: http://www.pgforte.com
Newsgroup: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/pgforte
MySpace: http:/www.myspace.com/pgforte
2007-12-03
Release Day Today and I'm still Counting
Not to worry, I'm sure they're just a little busy and will get to it very, very soon. In the meantime, here's the blurb and a cover pic and an excerpt--cause you know how I love my excerpts...
Blurb:
As the owner of The Body Electric, LA’s hottest new exercise studio, sexy, former film star Claire Calhoun has her pick of studly young men eager to do her bidding. Small wonder she’s used to calling the shots, both in and out of bed. But everything changes the night the actress-turned-entrepreneur has one mojito too many at a party and decides it would be fun to pick up her accountant, Mike Sherman. She's thinking fling. He's thinking forever.
Claire has been Mike's fantasy since the first time he saw her bare it all for the camera. Now, she's in his bed and he'll do whatever’s necessary to keep her there. But he's not a stalker, right? He's just a devoted fan.
Excerpt:
This scene (which is in Mike's POV) takes place shortly after Claire has asked Mike to take her home. He's completely misunderstood her intentions, and thinks she's not feeling well...
Claire didn’t answer right away. She seemed distracted—as she had ever since the valet pulled the Jag up to the curb. "Well... I don’t know." Her gaze was thoughtful as she glanced around at the car’s interior. "How would you feel about taking a drive along Mulholland first to get some air? Maybe stop for a moment to see the lights?"
"Air?" She mustn’t be feeling well, I thought and groaned inwardly. Shit. Isn’t that great? I’m really not overly anal when it comes to my possessions, but I happen to love my car—a classic Jaguar, built in the years before all the electrical problems; before the company was taken over by GM. I really hated the idea of anyone getting sick all over the upholstery. Even Claire. If a little fresh air was going to prevent that, "Mulholland it is."
Neither of us said anything as we sped along the mostly deserted streets. I was just praying that the winding road wouldn’t make her even more sick.
The turnout that you always see in movies is all the way at the western end of the highway, close to where the pavement stops. I was pretty certain she wouldn’t want to drive that far, but there are plenty of places to stop along the way to admire the view. I pulled into the first likely spot and turned off the ignition.
Claire removed her seatbelt but she made no move to open the door, which I took to be a good sign.
"How are you feeling now?" I asked, watching as she stared at the lights below us.
She laughed a little, as though I’d said something funny. "You know, I used to drive up here all the time, when I was younger, when I was new to LA and depressed about my career. Somehow, it always seemed to help me put things in perspective. I’d sit up here and listen to the radio and try to remember why I was putting myself through all that misery. So, I guess... compared to then... I’m feeling pretty good right now. How about you?"
"Me?" I thought about that. There I was, in the middle of a clear, star-studded night, parked atop the Hollywood Hills, with Claire Calhoun in the passenger seat of my Jaguar. I didn’t really see how things could get much better than that. But, at a time when I should be feeling like the king of the world, what was the main thing on my mind? Something I never thought I’d be worried about. Carpet cleaner. Un-freaking-believable. I shook my head, pushed all thoughts of cleaning products from my mind and smiled. "I’m fantastic."
"Are you?" She slanted me an amused glance, then looked away again, running the fingers of her right hand along the wood of the dash. "So, tell me about your car. It’s a Jaguar, right? I can’t believe..."
"What?" I asked, mesmerized by her fingers, wondering if she could possibly have been reading my mind. Or did she just think it an unlikely vehicle for an accountant to drive?
"Nothing." She shook her head and prompted. "The car?"
I shrugged. "Not that much to tell, really. I just always... well, I’d seen this exact car in a showroom years ago—this model, I mean—back when it was new. It was love at first sight. I must’ve gone back there oh, a dozen or so times, just to sit in it. Never even took it out for a test drive. I think I was afraid to. Afraid I wouldn’t want to bring it back. I was young then, just starting out, couldn’t come close to affording it. I mean... it wasn’t even in the realm of possibility, at that point. It was just... a dream, you know?"
"So what happened?" she asked quietly.
I sighed. "Nothing happened. After a couple of weeks, I gave in to the inevitable and bought something else. It was damned hard having to settle for something—for anything—less when my heart was set on this, but what could I do? I told myself ‘some day’ but, then, later, when I had a little more money, there were always other things that seemed more pressing, more important, more practical. I found a piece of land I fell in love with, built a house; that took money. Plus, the newer Jags... well, they just weren’t the same. So, I guess I just put it from my mind. But then, a couple of years ago, I was in the market for a new car, once again, and I came across an ad for this one—used, in need of a little work, selling for a song. It’s not what I’d been looking for. In fact, by then, I’d pretty much given up on the dream entirely. But, when it came right down to it, it was My Car. How could I resist? I had to buy it."
Claire was looking at me strangely when I finished talking. "That is a very romantic story."
"You think so?"
"Mm-hm. And it’s a beautiful car."
Well, that part I agreed with. "It is. It’s a classic. Beautiful, elegant, it can’t ever really go out of style. And it handles... well, like I always knew it would." Suddenly, I remembered that she wasn’t feeling well. "I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have gone on so long. You must be bored."
Claire shook her head. "Not a bit. And don’t be sorry. I asked, remember?" Then she flashed that wonderful smile at me again. "Why don’t we get going now?"
I nodded, feeling just a little sorry because this was a moment I knew wouldn’t likely come again. It would have been nice to stretch it out a little longer.
If only she were feeling better. If only I’d thought to pack a picnic, a blanket, a bottle of wine. But, given the circumstances—really not a good idea. I’d started the car when I remembered, "I still don’t know where you live."
"That’s all right," she said as she re-fastened her seatbelt. "I don’t want to go there anyway."
My eyebrows rose. "Well, then, where are we going?"
Her hands stilled on the buckle. She looked at me questioningly. "I thought... your house. No?"
"My house?"
She nodded. "Mm-hm. You know, the one you said you helped design? I’m intrigued. I’d really like to see it."
"But... that’s... that’s all the way out in Topanga Canyon." Surely she didn’t expect me to drive all the way out there, then back here, then back out there again? All in one night? Or was she so drunk the idea seemed reasonable?
Claire’s lips quirked. "I know where it is. Is there a problem?"
I sighed. That would be a Yes on the drunk question, wouldn’t it? "Look, Claire, that’s a little far for a joy ride, don’t you think?" I hinted, as gently as I could.
"Weren’t you planning on going home tonight anyway?"
"Yes. Once. But not... not two or three times." Not that the idea of spending all that time alone with her wasn’t heavenly but... well, no, damn it, this was not quite what I’d had in mind. "I know I said the drive back into town only takes a matter of minutes but, even so, those minutes do add up. And I’ve driven out there and back once tonight already. Besides, it’s getting a little late. Wouldn’t you rather I just take you home now?"
Claire was staring at me fixedly, as though attempting to puzzle something out. Finally, "Michael, I thought you understood? When I asked you to take me home I meant I wanted to spend the night with you."
This time, I knew for certain I was hearing things. I shook my head, hoping to clear it. "Spend the night?"
She nodded. "With you. Yes. Is something wrong?"
The only thing wrong was the way the blood had left my skull, headed straight for my dick. Somehow, I’d have thought that would make my brain feel clearer, but it didn’t. "Just—Jesus, how much did you have to drink back there anyhow?"
Laughing, Claire slipped her seatbelt off again. She leaned in close and lifted one of her hands to frame my face. Her fingers felt as cool as they had before; but this was even better than before because this time she was touching me on purpose. Her eyes were dark, her smile was sultry and her voice and her words were something out of a dream. "You’re a very sweet man, Mike. You shouldn’t sell yourself short." Then she kissed me.
For a moment, I think I forgot who either of us was. We were simply Man and Woman and nothing had ever felt more right. Her lips were soft, her scent was sweet and everything male in me responded. Mine. Fierce and insistent, the instinct to claim her, to take her as my own—now, tonight, forever—overrode everything else.
I kissed her back, tugging her hard against me, my tongue coaxing hers into play. Touching everything I could get my hands on, I practically tore the material of her dress as I sought for the zipper. Then my hands registered the feel of the sequined gown they were coasting over—the same glimmering garment I’d been trying, all evening, not to stare at. Suddenly, I remembered where I was and who I was with.
"Claire. Oh, my God. I’m sorry, I—"
She opened her eyes. Something dark flickered in their depths—heat and passion and something else. Alarm, maybe?
"Wow." Her voice emerged hoarse and breathless. "Mike. You really shouldn’t sell yourself short."
copyright 2007 PG Forte All Rights Reserved
2007-10-18
This Week's Tour Stops and Another Surprise!
Website: http://www.pgforte.com
Newsgroup: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/pgforte
MySpace: http:/www.myspace.com/pgforte2007-10-12
Today's Book Tour Stop--and a surprise!!
2007-10-09
This Week's Virtual Tour Stops...less one.
2007-10-01
New Virtual Book Tour--Day One
Website: http://www.pgforte.com
Newsgroup: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/pgforte
MySpace: http:/www.myspace.com/pgforte
Love From A to Z
PG Forte
Erotic Romance
Virtual Book Tour
Liquid Silver Books
2007-07-26
2007-07-16
Tour Announcement
This is just a quick fly-by post that I'm leaving on all my blogs to let everyone know that I'm going on a virtual tour next month. Here's the 4-1-1:
Join erotic romance author PG Forte, author of Waiting for the Big One (Liquid Silver Books), as she virtually tours the blogosphere in August on her first virtual book tour!
Hope to see you there! Technorati Profile
2007-07-15
Review, review, review
Was it really just last week that I was wishing for a rave review of Love From A to Z?
Well, I guess this is one of those rare times when 'be careful what you wish for' really doesn't apply because I got just what I'd asked for and from what has to be the most unlikely source: Mrs. Giggles!
Who had this to say about it:
"for the most part, Love, From A To Z is a most enjoyable fairy-tale romance that captures the whole "poor trapped heiress finds love and a grand adventure" fantasy perfectly."
She's also crediting me with performing two amazing feats with my writing. Like what you ask? Well, read the review and find out. Or better yet, read the book!
And that's amazing in a good way, mind you. Me, I'm just amazed altogether. I guess I shouldn't be though. After all, it is one of my favorite of my stories and I must have some taste. Don'tcha think?Anyway, not content to languish in her big brother's erotic romance shadow, Waiting for the Big One also garnered her share of praise with two reviews.
From Deborah at Blue City Romance: "A dog-walking actress, her gorgeous male friend and a hot new neighbor, all add up to one fun and sexy read from author P.G. Forte."
And from Jai at The Romance Zone who called it, "a fantastic summer read. Chick lit meets erotica at it's finest. P.G. Forte has the ability to write exquisite love scenes."
Thank you all very, very much!
2007-07-09
Love Released!!
Think the Astrology police will get me if I mention that Mercury went direct today? Ah, it's always a relief when that happens. But there's almost nothing better than a new release...well, first rave review of said new release would be nice as well. lol!
Erotic Contemporary
ISBN 978-1-59578- 366-0
Total amnesia is not what Richie Valenzuela had planned on when he drugged his cousin. A few missing hours, which could easily be blamed on April’s having had too much to drink, was all he was aiming for. And he certainly never expected the reclusive heiress to slip out the club’s back door with the sexy guitarist she’d been making eyes at all night.
Zach Harris is sure the girl he’d picked up the night before had told him her name was Angel. Too bad she didn’t tell him anything more about herself, because, this morning, it’s not just him she can’t remember, she doesn’t even know her own name!
What April views as a problem, however, Zach sees as a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity; a chance for her to discover who she really is. Not her name or her address, but the important stuff. Her personality. Her likes and dislikes. Her preferences—in and out of bed.
Buy it HERE.
PG Forte
Website: http://www.pgforte.com
Newsgroup: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/pgforte
MySpace: http:/www.myspace.com/pgforte
2007-07-07
Tagged!
I've been tagged by Lisa Andel so I have to come up with eight more facts/habits/nuggets of information about myself. This is harder than you might imagine 'cause--really--I'm just not that interesting!
But I'll try my best. Don't I always? lol!
First, the rules:
a. Each player lists 8 facts/habits about themselves.
b. The rules of the game are posted at the beginning before those facts/habits are listed.
c. At the end of the post, the player then tags 8 people and posts their names, then goes to their blogs and leaves them a comment, letting them know that they have been tagged and asking them to read your blog.
Okay, so...
#1. I currently have seven tattoos, five of which were given to me by my awesome tattoo artist son.
#2. I think my next tattoo ought to be a chameleon due to my ridiculously eclectic tastes (tea AND coffee, vanilla AND chocolate, beer AND wine, mountains AND seashore, Spring AND Fall, city AND country...well, you get the idea) all of which I blame on the fact that I'm a Pisces and...
#3. Yes, I really do talk about astrology as much as Gabby, the main character in my book, Waiting for the Big One. A frightening thought, no doubt, for some reviewers who haven't really liked that about her but...
#4. I don't talk about it nearly as much as my husband does. Oh, yeah...and he's a Scorpio too, JFYI.
#5. I collect things. All sorts of things. Including angels, baskets, bears, blogs, CDs (over 500 at last count. I like music...a lot.), chickens (not real ones now, although I used to), crystals, dishes, feathers, fossils, orchids, sand, shells, silver bracelets, succulents and Zuni fetishes. My husband collects clocks...we don't know why. Maybe I should re-think that chameleon tattoo. Maybe I should get a pack rat tattoo instead...or a jackdaw.
#6. I tend to obsess about things. When I first discovered Sesame noodles I ate them every day (sometimes twice a day) for weeks. This is a trait I share with many of my characters. I also like to Alphabetize things (note the list above). That's something I share with my character Zach, from Love, From A to Z...which is being released on MONDAY. Zach's a Pisces too, btw.
#7. I'm going on a Virtual Book Tour next month and I just got this neat banner to promote it:
#8. Um...running out of facts here...oh, I know. My MySpace friend's list just hit 1,000 today. So, in honor of that, I'm going to tag eight authors (yes, sigh, in alphabetical order--sue me) from my friend's list...
Paige Burns
Jodi Lynn Copeland
Melissa Glisan
Amelia June
Kim Robinson
Jennifer Skully
Linda Walker
Leigh Wyndfield
Oh...did I mention I can't count?
2007-06-15
A to Z Coming Soon!
Here's the blurb:
Total amnesia is not what Richie Valenzuela had planned on when he drugged his cousin. A few missing hours, which could easily be blamed on April’s having had too much to drink was all he was aiming for. And he certainly never expected the reclusive heiress to slip out the club’s back door with the sexy guitarist she’d been making eyes at all night.
Zach Harris is sure the girl he’d picked up the night before had told him her name was Angel. Too bad she didn’t tell him anything more about herself, because, this morning, it’s not just him she can’t remember, she doesn’t even know her own name!
What April views as a problem, however, Zach sees as a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity; a chance for her to discover who she really is. Not her name or her address, but the important stuff. Her personality. Her likes and dislikes. Her preferences—in and out of bed.
I'm very excited about this one. We've been blogging all week at Wicked Whispers Erotica about our favorite male characters and I have to say that while I love all my heroes, the hero of this book--Zach--is right up there at the top of the list. I hope you all will love him as much as I do.
But here's a taste...
This scene takes place the morning after Zach and April meet. This is when she first realizes that something's wrong with her memory, and, at first, she tries very hard to deny it....
I lay with my head on his chest, listening to the thundering of his heart, while his hands stroked slowly over my back and we both struggled for breath. But, even then, even that soon afterwards, I could feel the anxiety rising within me.
Are you cold?" he asked as he reached for the sheet.
I shook my head. "No, I’m fine. Really." Kissing him lightly on the lips, I slid out of bed. I was shivering all right, but not from cold. Reaction was setting in now, and all I wanted was to get out of here, to get away, to go home.
Frowning, he propped himself up on his elbow. "Wait, what are you doing?"
"I have to go," I said, grabbing my clothes from the floor.
"Now?"
"I uh, yes. I have things to do." I couldn’t find my underwear, and didn’t feel like searching for it. So, he’d have a souvenir of our time together. I could live with that, I supposed.
"Just like that, huh?" Sounding vaguely disgruntled, he removed the used condom and tossed it into the waste basket. "Well…shit, at least give me your phone number, all right? So I can call you sometime?"
"Okay." My phone number. Sure. No problem with that, was there? I slid my feet into my shoes. "Or, you know what? Why don’t you just give me yours, instead?"
His frown deepened. "Look, Angel, did I miss something in the last couple of minutes? Is anything wrong?"
I shook my head. "No." Nothing was wrong, nothing at all. Why should I remember my own phone number, anyway? It was early in the day, I’d just gotten up, my head ached and, besides, it’s not like I made a habit of calling myself, right? "What could be wrong?"
"How would I know? But, it’s obvious something’s bothering you."
"Don’t be silly. Of course there’s nothing bothering me. I’m fine." I scanned the room impatiently. "Where’s my purse?"
Reaching into the nightstand drawer, he extracted paper and pen. "You didn’t bring one."
No purse? "Well, where’s the rest of my stuff then?"
"What stuff is that?" he asked absently, scribbling away.
"You know, keys, money, a wallet?"
"I dunno. In your jacket maybe?" He gestured toward an armchair, just inside the door.
"My jacket. Right." As I lunged for the gray, suede jacket draped over the back of the chair, he got out of bed and headed toward me; still naked and semi-erect. I tried not to stare.
"Here." He held out the slip of paper he’d been writing on.
I left off searching through my jacket pockets long enough to take it, smiling as I read what he’d written, not just his number, but his name, as well. Thank God! "Thanks, Zach. I’ll call you." Probably I would, too, if only to explain why I wouldn’t be seeing him again. I folded the paper and carefully stowed it in one of the pockets I’d already checked, then resumed my search.
"I thought we could at least have breakfast together," Zach complained, still sounding disgruntled. He stroked his hand down my arm. "C’mon, it’s Saturday. Do you really have to rush off like this?"
I nodded. "I’m kind of in a hurry." Fingers trembling I checked inside the last pocket, it was as empty as the rest. My knees were shaking so hard now, I couldn’t stand. "There’s nothing in here," I muttered as I sank down in the chair, trying to think, trying not to think. I had no money, no keys, no license, no ID. But, maybe there was nothing odd about that. Maybe I didn’t need a license, or a key. Maybe I didn’t have a car. Maybe I lived with people who would let me in. What terrified me was the fact that I couldn’t remember.
Zach crouched in front of me and took hold of my hands. "Hey, relax. Don’t panic, okay? Probably your cousin has your purse, right?"
"My cousin?"
He nodded. "Yeah, it figures, doesn’t it? You came into the bar with him, right? So probably you gave him your stuff to hold onto. Or maybe you left it in his car, or something, and just forgot."
I clung to his hands and his words and tried not to cry. "Okay. That makes sense, I guess."
"Sure it does." Rising, he crossed the room again and grabbed his phone. "Here. Why don’t you give him a call and find out? It’ll be cool. You’ll see."
I shook my head. "I uh, I can’t call. I don’t remember his number."
"Oh." He returned the phone to its stand and then sighed. "Okay, well, still not a problem. I’ll just get dressed and give you a ride over there. How’s that sound?"
I wrapped my arms around myself and swallowed hard. It sounded great, except for one small detail. "I don’t know where he lives."
"You don’t?" His voice sounded skeptical, I didn’t blame him. Surely, I should know where my own cousin lived, shouldn’t I? He sighed. "Well, okay, scratch that plan, then. Where do you live? I’ll just take you home and we can–"
"I don’t know." My voice sounded so calm, so matter of fact, no one would ever guess that I was dying on the inside. But, something was wrong all right, and I’d just realized what. "I can’t remember that either."
Zach gazed at me sternly. "Okay, very funny. Now, cut it out. I’m trying to help, you know."
"I know," I whispered hugging myself even tighter, feeling hollow and helpless and altogether wretched. "But I can’t help it. And it’s not funny at all. I don’t remember anything." Including my name.
© 2007 PG Forte All Rights Reserved
Website: http://www.pgforte.com
Newsgroup: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/pgforte
MySpace: http:/www.myspace.com/pgforte
2007-06-05
Color Me Slow...to update
I know, I know. I should have had my new covers and links up weeks ago, but housekeeping has never been my forte.
*slight pause while you all groan in unison*
I could be brutally honest and admit it's never even been a mild interest, but that would be too much like airing my own dirty laundry...and, well, laundry! That goes back to the whole issue of housekeeping, now doesn't it?
So, let's just move on.
I've updated my links, added a few more cool blogs to the column at right, updated my profile...slightly...and just generally cleaned things up.
Spring cleaning. In June. Right on schedule. Not!
All my covers can now be seen over there on the right, as well, including my newest cover for Love, From A to Z. if you like what you see, click on the link and you can read an excerpt. Want more? Then be sure to check out CoffeeTime Romance's Exotic Group this Thursday when I'll join the other fabulous authors of Wicked Whispers Erotica for a little chat.
Sign up ahead of time at:
Then be sure and join us from 11 a.m. EDT to 2 p.m. EDT, this Thursday, June 7 for chatter, news, excerpts, updates--whatever we can think of to throw at you. And, oh, yeah, what's a chat without prizes?
Also, be sure to check out the Wicked Whisper Authors blog:
PG Forte
Website: http://www.pgforte.com
Newsgroup: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/pgforte
MySpace: http:/www.myspace.com/pgforte
2007-05-28
Long Time Coming...
As an author of erotic romance, I suppose I should think twice about all the ways in which the title of this post might be misconstrued.
Long Time Coming. Hmmmm. Okay, I've thought. Go ahead. Think what you will. It works on all sorts of levels...like all the best titles do.
Want proof?
Tonight's post is my first in a while. It's long overdue. That's Level One.
Tonight's post is about my first new release in over nine months. Looong overdue. Level Two.
Tonight's post is about a book that was previously published elsewhere, but not by the publisher it was originally intended for (which is where it is now, thank the Fates). So, this release, a loooong time after the story was written and after many mysterious twists and turns is, you guessed it. Level Three.
Then there's the story itself. The story of love delayed, denied, and made to wait. Level Four.
Then there's you. The impatient blog post reader who, at this point, has to be wondering, "will she ever get to the damn point???" I will, I will. But that's still Level Five.
Waiting for the Big One is my first novella and a radical departure for me in terms of style, length, subject matter...almost everything, a fact anyone familiar with my Oberon series can attest to.
Here's what it's not: heavy, dramatic, long, suspenseful, PG rated, overly serious.
It's light. It's humorous. It's amazingly short, especially for having been written right on the heels of the amazingly long, Dream Under the Hill. It's quirky--something that some of us consider to be a good thing. Not Mrs. Giggles, perhaps, but...well, you know, Other People. People who are less put-off by idiosyncratic, astrologically obsessed, Piscean characters...or was that idiosyncratic, astrologically obsessed, Piscean authors? Same difference, I suppose.
In any case, I'm quite proud of it (and its beautiful cover) and I'd love you to check it out here. Or here. Or here.
Actually buying it wouldn't hurt my feelings any, either. lol!
And, just to (hopefully) intrigue you, here's the blurb:
Like everyone else in LA, actress Gabby Brown is waiting for The Big One. The big break that will make her a star. The big quake that will rock the city to its knees. Or, in her case, the Big O—the elusive, G-spot, ultra orgasm. She thinks she's found the guy who’ll give it to her when she meets Zach, the super hot musician who's just moved into her building. But Gabby's quest to find true love and ultimate pleasure with the rock guitarist of her dreams is complicated by her friendship with Derek, the martial arts instructor with whom she's co-writing a screenplay.
Gabby has refused to even consider Derek for the role of soul mate because she fears sex will ruin their friendship. But, Derek has ideas of his own, and they don’t include sharing Gabby with anybody.
When an early morning earthquake precipitates a crisis at her day job—dog-walking the pampered pets of Hollywood's elite, off leash in Runyon Canyon Park—Gabby turns to Derek for help. His actions force her to re-evaluate her feelings about mixing sex and friendship.
PG Forte
Newsgroup: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/pgforte
MySpace: http:/www.myspace.com/pgforte