Today my guest is author Leah Braemel who has a new release to put you in the mood for the Christmas holidays - I Need You For Christmas. Please welcome her with open arms, while I make the coffee and she talks about her native Canada!
Also, at the end of Leah's post, we'll tell you how to enter the giveaway at her blog - you can win a Kindle Touch or a copy of something from her backlist!
My upcoming release, I Need You for
Christmas, is my first published story set in my own backyard of central
Ontario. It was fun not having to change my writing to make sure my American
characters stayed true to their character without my Canadian roots showing.
Since I wanted to give readers a feel for this area, I let myself write the way
I speak, and wrote about things I did, and things I saw every day. I tried not to put too many of the standard
Canadian stereotypes in there, but some stereotypes are stereotypes because we
really do or say them.
Even though I do use the word ‘eh’ at the
end of a lot of my sentences, I didn’t have my characters using it at all. Okay,
yes, Mounties are a Canadian stereotype, but I wanted a kick-ass police officer
heroine, and I wanted her to have been separated from the heroine who lived in
my neighborhood by having her serve 1600 miles north in Iqaluit (pronounced ee-ka-loo-eet
or ih-ka-loo-it – I got the phonetic spelling from dictionary.com but I’ve
heard it directly from people who live there), that meant she’d serve with the RCMP. Because, you know, they patrol the “Great White
North.”
Ah, there’s another stereotype. I don’t think I ever referred to the Canadian
arctic as the GWN. Although we often do refer to Canada in general using that
term. Even those of us in the banana belt section of southern Ontario.
Yes, I slid in a reference to Tim Horton’s – an extremely popular
coffee shop, even more popular than Starbucks up here. Though I refer to it as
“Timmy’s” as we usually do.
I may have mentioned a character pulling on
his toque – I had a heck of a surprise that no one south of the Canadian border
used that term. It’s a knit cap – you know like Bob and Doug McKenzie
wore? I discovered that when a critique
partner from Texas was reading my original copy of Private Property where I had my heroine pulling on her toque. My CP left a note questioning why she’d pull
on a French pastry. Apparently in Texas,
toques are referred to as toboggans, which sent my family into gales of
laughter. Because a toboggan to us is a sled – so the thought of pulling a sled
on one’s head … yup, a hoot.
Another weird thing I’ve learned since writing
about locations in the United States is we refer to our highways
differently. They are highways, not
freeways. And where people in the States say “Take I-95” where we’d say “Take
the 401 Eastbound to the 35/115”. Every
time I use a freeway number in one of my manuscripts, I have to make very sure
I never add that ‘the’ in front of it. With I Need You for Christmas, I didn’t have
to worry about that.
I had to debate how Meg would describe one
of the characters when it came to his height and weight. Because although we
use kilometers instead of miles, and litres instead of gallons, we still use
inches and feet for height and pounds for weight. Same as we adopt whatever spelling rule we
want depending on our mood when it comes to American vs UK spelling. We’re
flexible that way. ;)
Since Ryan offers to give Meg a toonie
tour and there’s a game at the Christmas party called the loonie toss. I guess I should mention
our money. You see, we don’t have a dollar bill, or a two dollar bill anymore because
25 years ago our government decided that coins would last longer. The dollar
bill was replaced with a large gold colored coin with a loon on one side—hence
it’s now called the loonie. A few years
later they replaced the two dollar bill with a two-metal coin that was very
quickly dubbed the “toonie.” They’re
very heavy if you have more than a couple in your pocket. Ask my American
editor how they weigh down her purse when she visits Carina’s head office in
Toronto. (I put them beside an American quarter and nickel for comparison
purposes.)
Then there’s the pulled pork
poutine Ryan and Meg share. That’s a very messy looking dish consisting of a
bed of French fries covered with cheese curds and gravy, and in this case,
topped with some pulled pork. It looks
disgusting, it’s even pronounced pooh-teen
here in Ontario, but it’s delicious. And as is everything food that I crave,
it’s very fattening.
Oh and the Jayne hat
one of the characters wears? Not Canadian, but I couldn’t help inserting a
little salute to Joss Whedon’s Firefly.
Because guess what? It’s a toque!
What stereotypes of Canadians do you have?
Leave a comment here for a chance to win a digital copy of winner’s choice of
one of my backlist. Or hop on over to Leah’s
blog for a chance to enter a Kindle Touch.
I NEED YOU FOR CHRISTMAS BLURB
Ryan Porter is a sculptor, and beneath his callused hands, even
the most rigid metals bend to his will. So, too, does his girlfriend Megan—a
confident, strong woman who delights in submitting to Ryan’s dominance in the
bedroom.
Megan is a Mountie, and she’s spent the past few years in the
arctic following her career dreams. Family obligations kept Ryan at home, but
their love survived the distance thanks to several hot visits. A Mountie always
gets her man, and Megan is bound and determined to keep Ryan.
Now Megan’s with Ryan for the holidays…but how long will this
visit last? She’s always been willing to do anything Ryan desires, but will he
finally tell her that all he needs for Christmas is her?
LEAH BRAEMEL LINKS:
4.) Leah’s
Goodreads Group: http://www.goodreads.com/group/show/73216-leah-s-lounge
5.) Leah’s FB
fanpage: https://www.facebook.com/LeahsLounge
Bedroom excerpt:
I Need You For Christmas
Copyright © 2012 Leah Braemel
The scent of bacon and cinnamon and coffee
penetrated Meg’s consciousness long before she convinced her eyelids to open.
Accompanied by Ryan’s off-key warbling of “Baby It’s Cold Outside”, she stretched
beneath the duvet and planned out her day. Which consisted of…what? Staying in
bed all day was tempting, but that probably wasn’t an option, especially since
she’d promised Amy she’d help her do her annual Christmas-cookie-making
marathon.
Grumbling about having to get up, yet
excited to be spending the day with Ryan, she tossed back the covers and padded
to the washroom. Once she’d had a shower and dressed, she wandered out to the
kitchen where Ryan was frying bacon wearing only a T-shirt and butt-hugging
briefs. Standing in the doorway, she stayed quiet, appreciating the sight of
his long legs with their muscular thighs and calves from miles of riding his
bike over the hilly gravel roads in the area. Legs that had clenched around her
the night before, the rough hair tickling her cheeks when she’d gone down on
him. Then later, they’d brushed the insides of her thighs when he’d ridden her
until they were both out of breath, sweaty and sore and thoroughly satisfied.
The music changed to “Silver Bells”, or as
he sang it, Silver Balls. Guys. For
such a talented artist, talk about tone deaf.
“Aren’t you worried about grease splatter?”
She grabbed a mug and filled it with coffee.
Ever the wise man, he waited until
she’d had her first full hit of caffeine before taking the cup and placing it
on the counter. As she was about to protest, he wrapped his arms around her.
With one hand firmly cupping her butt, he kissed her until they were both
breathless.
“I wasn’t expecting you to wake up so
early. You were sleeping like a log when I got up.” Ryan’s satisfied smile told
her he knew full well he was the reason she’d slept soundly. “I was planning on
bringing you breakfast in bed.” His hand squeezed her behind then released her.
“But now you’re up, you sit your butt on the couch while I finish here.”
“You spoil me.” She picked up her coffee
and headed to the couch, but not before stopping off to admire the seven-foot
live pine taking over the corner. Nestled among the original blown glass
ornaments and metal pieces Ryan created were a dozen or more embroidered
pieces. They’d been his mother’s creations—he’d told her that until his father
remarried and his new wife moved in, his mother’s needlework adorned just about
every surface in the house.
She stroked the long needles; the scent of
pine brought memories flooding back. “Do you remember our first Christmas
tree?”
He chuckled. “Not the tree itself, but I
remember trying to impress you by driving you out to Shewchuk’s tree farm and
getting stuck in the ditch. Not my finest moment.”
“I was remembering what happened after we
brought it home.” How they’d made love after they’d decorated it.
“I’ll never forget that part of the day,
babe.” His voice was soft.
While she’d always loved the spirit of
Christmas, she’d seldom found it at her family’s home. For some reason her
parents fought more over the holidays, and the Christmas carols she’d play
seldom drowned out the shouting matches. Though she hadn’t told him, she
suspected Ryan had when he had invited her to his family’s place for Christmas
their first year together and included her on the tradition of picking out the
family’s tree.
If she hadn’t already been falling in love
with him, he’d sealed the deal when he’d said he loved her that afternoon.
*HARLEQUIN COVER ART: Cover Art Copyright©
2010 by Harlequin Enterprises Limited permission to reproduce text granted by
Harlequin Books S.A. Cover Art used by arrangement with Harlequin Enterprises
Limited. All rights reserved. © and ™ are trademarks owned by Harlequin
Enterprises Limited or its affiliated companies, used under license.
Hotter excerpt:
He lowered her
head and kissed the soft skin beneath her ear. “I love you.”
I
always have. I always will.
Her breath
hitched when his hand dipped beneath the water and over her belly. Her legs
fell open, pressing against his, as his fingers continued their journey over
her mound and between her folds. He toyed with her clit, teasing it until her
pulse sped up. When he speared her sheath with two fingers, her hips arched
into his hand, causing water to slosh up dangerously close to the top.
“Oh God, yeah.”
She writhed against him, rubbing her ass against his erect cock in an erotic
torture.
On occasion he
wished he was a photographer, that he could capture the dreamy expression on
her face as she started to come, could forever immortalize the creamy hue of her
breasts with their cinnamon nipples now taut and hard. Oh he could sculpt her
expression and her face, but it would be hard marble, which couldn’t capture
the warmth, or clay, which couldn’t match the softness. But no camera, drawing
or sculpture could convey how her body clenched and rippled around his fingers
in sync with the soft puffs of breath with each stroke. Nor could they capture
the heady scent of her arousal, or the spicy taste of the cream coating his
fingers.
Her moans
vibrated through him, echoing off the marble walls, until his balls drew up
close to his body. He’d had to satisfy himself with handjobs since he’d seen
her last, and as much as he wanted to bury his cock deep in her body, this time
was all about her needs, not his.
Don't forget to hop on over to
Leah’s blog for a chance to enter a Kindle Touch!
Thanks for stopping by, Leah! What a great story for the holidays!
Until next time, take care!
♥ Julie
