What is it about lighthouses?

The Cape Byron Lighthouse
Photograph: 4c's Enterprises

When I was a child, my family spent our school holidays at Byron Bay. For those who don't know the spot, it's Australia's most easterly point, with stunning beaches, and, when we used to go it was a relatively unknown piece of paradise. It's become much more popular in recent years, but the beaches are as gorgeous, and the whole bay is still presided over by a grand old lighthouse.

The Cape Byron Lighthouse is not only Australia's most easterly lighthouse, but it's also the country's most powerful. At night we would watch the light go round and round from the sand dunes, and during the day, we could see the tall white tower from the beach.

So, is it just me and the effect of my childhood memories, or do lighthouses hold a special fascination for others too? Perhaps the appeal is symbolic - a guiding light for those in troubled waters.

The Lady Bay Upper Lighthouse
Flagstaff Hill, Warrnambool
Photograph: Ed Kavaliunas

Since I've laid bare my love for all things lighthouse, you probably won't be surprised to learn I managed to sneak a lighthouse into a book. In fact, I set an entire book at a fictitious luxury hotel: The Lighthouse Hotel in Connecticut, New England.  In Million-Dollar Amnesia Scandal, one of the first things my heroine, April Fairchild, wants to do when she arrives at the hotel, is climb the steps of the lighthouse. April has many traits that have nothing to do with me - eg., she can sing and play the piano beautifully - but that need to climb to the top of the lighthouse is all me. :)

So, what about you? Have you ever visited a lighthouse? Or had a fascination for them? I'm eager to hear about more lighthouses and any memories you  have!

Butterfly Days

by Sharon Archer


Watching: Deja Vu
Reading: The Guernsay Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society
Listening to: cicadas
Making me smile: Butterflies dancing on air!




It’s nearly the end of the “Season of Butterflies”! Over the past couple of weeks these beautiful, delicate creatures have been everywhere and a walk across our grassy paddock produces a gorgeous, unchoreographed aerial ballet.

I’ve been particularly aware of this seasonal indicator since we visited Brambuk up in Halls Gap in Western Victoria where the Season of Butterflies is called ballambar. It’s early summer and runs loosely from the middle of November until the end of January.

The indigenous people of Gariwerd use nature to determine six seasons rather than having them set by calendar dates and to do this, they observe the behaviour of plants and animals as well as climate.

I don’t know if the name, ballambar, can be applied to the part of Victoria where I live but it’s definitely the season of butterflies here.

We found a small wattle tree with an odd collection of rather unattractive pupae. By keeping a watch on them, I caught them as the butterflies were starting to emerge and took some photographs. I couldn't find the name of the butterfly but it's the lovely pale blue creature above with its striking tail markings.


So are there any seasonal indicators that you're particularly aware of? How did you learn about them? Is it something you noticed yourself, something you read about or something that's been passed on to you by someone else?

Catwalk

Name: Sarsen the Fearless. My sister is Satin the Fraidy-cat because she jumps at her own shadow.

Night Owl or Early Bird: Well that depends on what I can catch (birds are very tricky they fly away so fast). Generally I’m more a of a lizard cat. They are the perfect size for snacking on.

Dislikes: Being carried around the house by miss 4. I am not a baby-doll, nor a sack of potatoes. The smallest slave doesn’t seem to grasp that. And while she does give very nice pats and cuddles, she still insists on picking me up under the armpits so my feet drag on the floor. Very undignified.

Favourite Pastime: Sleeping. I like to follow the sun as it moves around the house. This can take all day to accomplish and by the time I’m done doing that it’s time to have a quick snooze on the end of my slaves bed (or if its winter under the doona). I have been known to claw the sole of their feet if they try to kick me out. What is the point of having slaves if not to warm the bed?

Most embarrassing moment: Being caught sleeping next to the dumb, but warm and soft, dog and then being photographed. Humans have no sense of class I am sure they are planning to use it against me one day.

Most memorable: Catching a rat almost as big as my sister. My slave shrieked in delight then gathered it up before the dog could eat it. I never did see where she put it…

Sunday Smooch

Welcome to another LoveCats DownUnder Sunday Smooch!

Today we have a smooch from Walk On The Wild Side by Natalie Anderson, but first ...

the winner of last week's Sunday Smooch Giveaway is -- Kylie Griffin!


Congratulations, Kylie! Can you please contact Tracey O'Hara at

tracey (at) traceyohara (dot) com

and she'll send you a copy of Death's Sweet Embrace.

And now for today's Sunday Smooch from Walk On The Wild Side by Natalie Anderson...

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

There’s nothing like a kiss! As in real life, kisses in stories often herald the turning point in a relationship – sometimes they’ve been waiting so long to happen it’s such a relief, sometimes they’re playful and passionate and fun and sometimes, they’re a result of a pent-up mess of emotions – anger, frustration and desire…


One crazy afternoon on the beach...
A fling with sinfully hot champion snowboarder Jack Greene isn't Kelsi Reid's normal behaviour... but one glimpse of his wicked blue eyes has Kelsi throwing caution to the deep blue sea (along with her clothes!). After all, who better to go crazy with than a man who deserves a gold medal for his prowess on the slopes and in the bedroom...? Then Kelsi crashes down with a terrifying bump - of the baby kind. They couldn't be worse matched - Jack is Mr Right-Now, while Kelsi craves stability. But it's hard to keep your feet on the ground once you've met the man who turns your world upside down...


“It’s going to be fine,’ she smiled but it wasn’t a natural one. “It’s all going to be ok.”

“Oh?” He stopped. She still had her back pressed against the window, as far away from him as possible.

“Sure,” she nodded. “I have a good job. I have no worries financially. It won’t be easy, but it’ll be doable.”

Somehow that didn’t make him feel any better. Now she was suggesting she didn’t even want his money? Ridiculous. Doing it alone wasn’t easy – even with only one child. His instincts sharpened – body becoming even more battle ready. “What will you do with the baby?”

“When it comes I can keep working from home. Later I can return to the office part-time and work my hours back up as it gets older.”

“You’ve thought all this through,” he said, not keeping the sarcasm out.

She looked cool. “Funnily enough, I haven’t been able to think of much else.”

Okay so he knew it was the twenty-first century and all and there were plenty of working mothers out there, plenty of solo mothers too, but there was that basic instinct in him now rearing its head up from the cave it had been born in, saying the man ought to provide for his woman and child. And there was another instinct rising too, threatening to override everything – his need for this woman – pushing him to do the thing he’d been dreaming of for ever. “And where did you see me fitting in with this?”

“I don’t.”

“Pardon?” Jack couldn’t control the snap of his muscles.

“I already said you don’t need to worry about it.” Kelsi looked away from the wild expression in his eyes. “I can manage just fine on my own.” And she could. And she would.

“Really.” He looked furious. “Ok, let’s say, for a second, that that’s true.” He walked towards her, his anger surging ahead of him in an invisible cloud. “Let’s say you can manage just fine on your own and you don’t need me.”

Kelsi froze, despite her instinct screaming at her to run. And then it was too late. He swiftly pulled her into his arms – lifting her right off her feet. Her heart thundered at the feel of his hard strength pressed so close to her. And it almost beat right out of her chest as his mouth descended.

Her whole body convulsed as his lips pressed hard on hers. It was anger she tasted, but also passion. And she couldn’t do anything except put her arms around his neck and hold on. She tried so hard to stop the spinning inside but she couldn’t contain the response, couldn’t stop herself softening, opening for him and feeling the rush of desire for more. He was all strength, all passion. And all fury.

She shuddered deeply again as he ravaged, showing her no mercy, kissing her until she succumbed completely – not just to his desire, but to her own. Until suddenly she kissed him back as keenly and as wildly. Until just as suddenly she panicked and pushed him away hard.

He dropped her and she gasped.

“What do we do about that?” he demanded.

Kelsi quickly took three paces away, her emotions tossed about like corks on a stormy sea. What was he thinking kissing her like that? “You think complicating this even more is a good idea?” she demanded shakily.

“It’s that complicated already, I don’t think this is going to make much difference.”

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

“I still want you.”


Want to know what happens next? Just leave a comment to be in the draw for a signed copy of Walk on the Wild Side!

Come back next Sunday, when the winner of today's giveaway will be announced -- and a smooch from Million-Dollar Amnesia Scandal by Rachel Bailey will be posted!

Pets in Books

Reading: Siren by Tara Moss
Listening to: Free Falling by John Mayer
Watching: Vampire Diaries (Season 2)
Making me smile: My cute as a button new born son!

I’m so excited to be posting here for the first time, even if I am a little behind schedule! I had a good excuse though, with our first baby arriving 3 weeks early . . . small but healthy, and super cute! So a huge thank you to Natalie Anderson for stepping up to fill my spot last week.
At the moment I’m working on the proposal for my fourth book with Harlequin Romance, and I’ve just realised it’s my first story that doesn’t include any pets. Yet. As a very passionate animal lover who enjoys nothing more than being surrounded by animals, I seem to have turned all of my characters into animal lovers too. Or at least they are by the end of my stories!
From a loving Golden Retriever who helps heal a little girl’s broken heart in my first book, to a waggy-tailed little scruff ball of a dog in my second book and a Labrador puppy in my third, there’s no escaping the four-legged creatures. I’ve also added horses into my last one for my cowboy hero, which was great fun to do, and let me share a personal interest with my readers.

But just because I love animals doesn’t necessarily mean all the potential readers of my books will, so it’s a matter of writing pets into each story without letting them become too dominant. My question here is whether you like reading about animals, or whether you’d prefer the characters you read about to be pet-less! I also seem to have a penchant for writing children into my stories, but that’s another question entirely and one Natalie talked about last week.

Soraya's debut Harlequin Romance, Soldier on Her Doorstep, is out in the UK in June/USA July. For more information head to www.sorayalane.blogspot.com

Romance from a male perspective

What I am reading: HOME: Alison Parr

What I am listening to: Wild Ride, Jennifer Crusie

What I am watching: The Wire

What is making me smile: My niece's engagement.

I thoroughly enjoyed Marion Lennox’s article in the current Hearts Talk “From a Male Perspective” in which Elliot Hannay convincingly explained why he thinks Last of the Mohicans is “one of literature’s great romances.” It was insightful and entertaining. I particularly liked the bloke’s take on the romantic high point when Elliot describes how, with both of them facing almost certain death in the morning, Hawkeye puts the ‘hard word on Cora.” Refreshingly to the point, with no romantic languishing of hot, seducing eyes or brooding presence or other such nonsense.

Of course, I then had to ask my own husband what he'd class as the greatest romance and with it, the romantic high point. G. looked hunted – this is a man who reads only science fiction and philosophy. Writers like William Gibson might be brilliant, but they are not great on love stories. After a few minutes of silence as he racked his brains, I tried to find a common language in film. “Hans Solo and Princess Leia?” I suggested. No! Farscape and Firefly didn’t cut it either. Ideally, he felt, love should have the elements of tragedy within it to prove how strong it is. Last of the Mohicans certainly had that.

This reminded me of the scene in Cross Stitch where Claire is captured by Jamie’s arch enemy, Randall, who wants nothing more than to imprison and torture Jamie again, before executing him. Jamie breaks into this enemy stronghold to rescue Claire armed only with an unloaded pistol and a great line in bluff. She hasn’t even been a good wife to him up to now, is only in this predicament because she ran away from him. Yet still he risks it all…. Unfortunately, but not surprisingly, G. hasn’t read the book so couldn’t comment.

We went to the DVD shelves. English Patient? Strike. Casablanca? Strike. Finally he settled, somewhat grudgingly, on Pretty Woman because Richard Gere goes against everything he personifies to pursue his love for Julia. The high point is his arrival in the Cadillac with the flowers. “Because of the car?” (G.’s also an avid car lover). G looked appalled. “No, the car is awful but he’s doing it all for her. The car, the flowers, climbing the ladder, it’s all for her. He’s putting himself aside entirely and knows he’s always going to be stigmatised for choosing her but he goes ahead anyway. His love is truly pure.”

So here’s the question to ask the men in your life. Which is the greatest romance and what is the romantic high point? Or share your own views on the subject. For the moment, I’m going with Jamie’s rescue, though I admit, I’m also off to the library to get hold of Last of the Mohicans again and am quite prepared to change my mind.

My blokey secret...



www.dakar.com



by Nikki Logan



I have a few New Year traditions that are more entrenched than I realised until I was extended the proverbial offer-I-couldn’t-refuse in 2010 and I did refuse it. For me, New Years has become about the Edinburgh Military Tattoo (delightful again this year), the mother of all office clean-ups in the air-con on New Year’s Day (start the year as you mean to continue...) and the big one: The Dakar.

   

Ten years ago I never would have imagined that I’d get excited by synchronised drumming followed by spring-cleaning followed by a fourteen day car race.



What have I become??

Yet I find myself strangely drawn to that nasally, cockney voice on SBS who rattles on about sports-drivers Roma and Peterhansel and Sainz and Coma and Despres. I love the heart-stopping, gasp-worthy exploits of those crazy men in their crazy machines hurtling over the sand-dunes at death-defying speeds.

There’s a few things I love less about the Dakar (deaths, injuries, destruction) but I tend to block my ears and go la la laaa about that for this one race of the year.



For the uninitiated, the Dakar is predominantly a ‘desert’ rally/race held previously in East Africa but now in South America thanks to the big honking target drawn on its back due to international popularity and the tendancy for extremist activity. It is open to anyone with a vehicle, second-mortgage on their home or a entourage of sponsors to pay the entry fee and...well...a death-wish. Bikes, cars, quads and even the big support trucks get in on the action. Some truck driver a few years back said ‘hey, we’re out there anyway, we can go fast… let’s race!’ and so now the giant Kamaz trucks are an iconic and insane part of the Dakar experience. I can only imagine how tightly everything would have to be strapped down inside to stop every single spare part ending up like a jigsaw. 

.

Marc Coma

2011 Winner - Bikes

(& Spanish eyecandy)

www.dakar.com

The Dakar is about dirt and mud and sweat and endurance and speed and agony and triumph and loss. It’s about a whole bunch of men and the occasional intrepid woman—who (on the whole) are old enough to know better—hammering their bodies year after year and trying to get to the end of the run. Hundreds start. Handfuls finish. It’s about corporate funded super-teams with dozens of support crew going up against self-funded first-timers with the guy-from-down-the-street-who’s-great-with-bikes along to help out. It’s about camaraderie and adrenaline.

 

Nasser Al Attiyah
2011 Winner - Car
(& Quatari eyecandy)
http://www.dakar.com/

It’s about me sitting on my air-conditioned sofa imagining I’m doing all of those things for half an hour every night the first fortnight in January. And maybe…just maybe…about smiling quietly to myself at all those dusty, sweaty, fit, riders and drivers with their lovely accents…

  



And to anyone who is wondering where the relevance is to a romance blog... You only have to watch half-a-dozen suited up riders walking in slo-mo to the dawn start line, or stripping off their shirts out in the desert to tighten a scorching hot muffler, or blowing a kiss to their wives from the winner's podium. The Dakar is romance for blokes. I promise...promise... that this is about as blokey as I get all year and we've gotten it out of the way nice and early.

Sadly the Dakar is over until New Year 2012. But boy do I have a corker of an idea for a story ticking over…!

So what's your secret, blokey vice? Football? Motor-racing? Air-racing? Do you like to peruse car auctions? Hang out in hardware stores? Come on...fess up... You're amongst friends :)

Nikki's current release 'The Soldier's Untamed Heart' has a heroine with a blokey job--security coordinator. Check it out onshelf now.