Go to http://www.amazon.com/Beltane-Erin-ORiordan/dp/1897559658/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1237645660&sr=1-1 to get your copy of Beltane by me, Erin O'Riordan!
Beltane is a sexy romance. Allie is marrying the man of her dreams, Paul Phillip. A buttoned-down lawyer, he may not be "exciting," but he makes Allie feel like a princess. Allie's twin sister, Zen, takes a chance on Allie and Paul Phillip's wedding caterer, Chris. Chris is more the hit 'em and quit 'em type, though. When Zen meets hip businessman Orlando, she thinks she's found what her sister has with Paul Phillip. Which sister will end up with her true love?
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Go to http://www.oystersandchocolate.com/Stories/1602/ContestEntryTheHope.aspx and vote for my short story, "The Hope," in the Oysters and Chocolate "40 Days, 40 Nights" erotic fiction contest. I need to win that $100!
"The Hope" is a sweet little piece about a secular Jewish man who aspires to seduce the cantor from his mother's temple. You'll laugh, you'll cry, you'll plotz. And you can read it in your pajamas; no need to get all farpitzed.
A sneak preview:
"The first words I ever heard from Ilan Kauffman's beautiful lips were, "Od lo avda tikvateynu." Roughly, "Our ancient hope will never die." Sung, not spoken. The chorus of the Israeli national anthem.
"The Reform temple that my mom and sister attend begins every Shabbat service with "Hatikvah." I'd gotten used to this. Rarely, as I was seen inside Temple Beth-El, I was still used to the fact that the choir was led by Barb Rubinstein, a sixty-three-year-old woman who sang in an operatic alto voice.
"That is, until my niece's bat mitzvah.
"As my sister's only child prepared for the day she would become a woman, she called me frequently. Mostly to ask what I was wearing. Occasionally to tell me what Ilan wore to choir practice. Ilan, whose name means "an oak tree." Who had a broad stripe of freckles across his nose, smoked cigarettes, and once picked tangerines in Haifa. I assumed Sophie was talking about a twelve-year-old boy.
"At the bat mitzvah, Sophie and the thirteen other girls who made up the girls' choir stood. The congregation of Temple Beth-El rose to its feet as the music swelled. But where Barb Rubinstein should have stood, there instead stood Ilan Kauffman. Twenty-five years old, my mother filled me in later. Just finished his master's degree. The girls' choir sang the first verse, and he joined them on the chorus. Even with the whole congregation singing, including me, it wasn't hard to pick out Chazen Ilan's voice.
"Rich. Powerful. But not deep.
"Light as feathers, as air.
"Light, but not pure.
"There was a raw, wounded edge to Ilan's drifting feather of a voice. A scar. The sound of broken glass. Kristallnacht a capella.
"I knew, then, that I had a sacred calling."
Go to http://www.oystersandchocolate.com/Stories/1602/ContestEntryTheHope.aspx and give my story a 5-star rating. Please. Pretty please with sugar, whipped cream and cherry on top.
"The Hope" is a sweet little piece about a secular Jewish man who aspires to seduce the cantor from his mother's temple. You'll laugh, you'll cry, you'll plotz. And you can read it in your pajamas; no need to get all farpitzed.
A sneak preview:
"The first words I ever heard from Ilan Kauffman's beautiful lips were, "Od lo avda tikvateynu." Roughly, "Our ancient hope will never die." Sung, not spoken. The chorus of the Israeli national anthem.
"The Reform temple that my mom and sister attend begins every Shabbat service with "Hatikvah." I'd gotten used to this. Rarely, as I was seen inside Temple Beth-El, I was still used to the fact that the choir was led by Barb Rubinstein, a sixty-three-year-old woman who sang in an operatic alto voice.
"That is, until my niece's bat mitzvah.
"As my sister's only child prepared for the day she would become a woman, she called me frequently. Mostly to ask what I was wearing. Occasionally to tell me what Ilan wore to choir practice. Ilan, whose name means "an oak tree." Who had a broad stripe of freckles across his nose, smoked cigarettes, and once picked tangerines in Haifa. I assumed Sophie was talking about a twelve-year-old boy.
"At the bat mitzvah, Sophie and the thirteen other girls who made up the girls' choir stood. The congregation of Temple Beth-El rose to its feet as the music swelled. But where Barb Rubinstein should have stood, there instead stood Ilan Kauffman. Twenty-five years old, my mother filled me in later. Just finished his master's degree. The girls' choir sang the first verse, and he joined them on the chorus. Even with the whole congregation singing, including me, it wasn't hard to pick out Chazen Ilan's voice.
"Rich. Powerful. But not deep.
"Light as feathers, as air.
"Light, but not pure.
"There was a raw, wounded edge to Ilan's drifting feather of a voice. A scar. The sound of broken glass. Kristallnacht a capella.
"I knew, then, that I had a sacred calling."
Go to http://www.oystersandchocolate.com/Stories/1602/ContestEntryTheHope.aspx and give my story a 5-star rating. Please. Pretty please with sugar, whipped cream and cherry on top.
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