Female or male, what’s the first physical feature that grabs your attention?
I recently heard of a study where women were shown 75 pictures of men, and they overwhelmingly agreed it was a guy’s smile that called to them. Now, I’m not sure if these were only headshots being viewed or if the women responding were just being PC ;-), but I will boldly admit that the first thing I notice is a man’s chest. Given the mass quantities of bare-chested photos posted to Facebook pages, I’m inclined to think I’m not alone here!
Though, for argument’s sake, let’s say the photos viewed were only headshots. (I know, where was the fun in that study??!) What is the first defining feature you notice? Is it neatly trimmed or strategically messy hair? Is it dreamy or alert eyes? Is it a playful smirk or a sexy smile? Is it a strong, clean-shaven jaw or a scruffy one?
Although I know eyes are supposed to be the windows to the soul, for me, a smile says it all. First, it can hold honesty. That’s probably the most important quality of a smile. Beyond that, my favorite expressions include the Billy Idol sneer from the ‘80s/’90s (think “Rock the Cradle of Love” or “White Wedding”). I’m pretty sure that man has left millions of wet thongs in his wake. I’m also hugely fond of the smoldering, bad-boy smirk. You know, the one that says, “I can easily make you come ten times in an hour if given the chance,” without even saying a word!
Like purposely messy hair and edgy dispositions, not all men can pull off the sneer or the smirk—or the wicked intentions they promise. Perhaps that’s why I find them so alluring. 😉
I’d love to hear what you find sexy, endearing, or engaging about facial features. Leave a comment and you’re entered to win either an autographed, print version of the Advance Reader’s Copy of Book 1 in my upcoming St. Martin’s Press trilogy releasing Oct. 6, BURNED DEEP (US delivery), or the electronic version.
And keep those bare-chested photos coming on Facebook!
Happy Autumn!
Calista
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WHAT LOLA WANTS (Grand Central Publishing/Forever Romance)—NOW ON SALE!
Calista is a former PR professional, now writing fast-paced, steamy books to set your pulse racing! Her publishing houses include St. Martin’s Press, Grand Central Publishing and Harlequin. Her debut SMP trilogy opens with BURNED DEEP and concludes with a new book four, starring the trilogy’s secondary hero! She is an Amazon bestseller and has won many Reviewer’s and Reader’s Choice Awards, as well as Best Book Awards and other competitions with publication as first prize. Calista is a college graduate and teaches online writing classes. She is also a Past President/Advisor of the Desert Rose Phoenix chapter of the Romance Writers of America national organization. Visit her at: www.calistafox.com, www.facebook.com/calistafox and www.twitter.com/calistafoxbooks
I write small town contemporary romance, along with what sometimes seems to be most of the Romance world. I started with Konigsburg, Texas, and then shifted to Salt Box, Colorado, in a shift that mirrored my own actual move from San Antonio to Denver. But when I say I write about small towns, I need to make an important distinction. My small towns may not be what cross your mind when you think of small towns. My small towns—both of them—are resort towns.
What’s the difference? Basically, resort towns have a different set of objectives from the average small town. Both Konigsburg and Salt Box depend on appealing to outsiders. Tourists are responsible for a large part of their economies, and this has an interesting effect on the way the towns function. Resort towns, in my experience, tend to be more outgoing, more open to new ideas and fashions. They have to keep attracting outsiders, which means they have to change with the times.
And yet they’re still small towns, meaning people know each other and support each other in the way many other small towns do. It’s this combination of sophistication and tradition that fascinates me, I admit. And the actual resort towns my books are based on—Fredericksburg, TX and Steamboat Springs, CO—are favorites of mine.
My latest book, Finding Mr. Right Now, is about a collision between show business and a small resort town. Saltbox, Colorado, is a summer and winter recreational resort that has to put up with the invasion of a reality show, Finding Mr. Right. The locals are friendly but a little taken aback by the outsiders, and a lot of the disagreements between the two groups take place at the Blarney Stone, a local bar loved by locals and visitors alike. Here’s a quick scene where Clark Denham, the owner of a local hotel (and hero of Saltbox Book 2, Love in the Morning, releasing on January 5) tries to explain the origins of the town’s name to some slightly confused Hollywood types (any resemblance to the story of how Tin Cup, Colorado, got its name is purely coincidental):
“Salt Box.” Monica turned to Clark Denham. “Why is it called Salt Box? Is it the name of a mountain?”
He gave her a lazy smile. “Do you want the real answer or the classic answer?”
“Can’t I have both?”
“Sure.” He picked up his beer. “The real answer is nobody knows exactly.”
“And the classic answer?”
“…is a story, of course. Starts when the town wasn’t a town yet. Just a stagecoach stop and a potential stop on the railroad that was supposed to go through and didn’t.” He took another swallow. “Sorry—off topic. Anyway, the people who lived here decided they needed to be an honest-to-god town, which meant they needed a name. With me so far?”
Monica nodded.
“Anyway, they figured they’d let the people in town vote on what name they liked best. So they asked people to write down their suggestions and put them in an empty salt box at the general store.”
Paul raised an eyebrow. “I think I see where this is headed.”
“Yeah, well, keep it to yourself. You’ll ruin my concentration.” Denham gave him a dry smile. “So they had a couple of weeks for everybody to come up with their suggestions for a name and put them in the salt box. Then they called a town meeting so they could have a vote to choose the name everybody liked best.”
Ronnie frowned. “But they should have given people time to think first. I mean, they should have told them the names everybody came up with and then let them kind of talk it over. Because at first they might not have liked some of the names, but after a while they might have decided, okay, that’s not a bad name after all. So everybody would have been happy.”
Denham’s mouth edged into another smile, this one friendly. “That makes a lot of sense, but I think the people in town just wanted to get the whole thing over with. Decide on the name so they could get a post office and then move on.”
Ronnie gave a little puff of disapproval. “Patience is a virtue.”
Denham blinked, then took a breath. “Okay, so we’ve got the townspeople all coming together at the general store. Gonna choose a name and get cracking on having a real town. Civilization here we come.”
Monica leaned forward. “And?”
“And they upended the salt box to get all the suggestions, but there was nothing there.”
Ronnie’s eyes widened. “Nothing? No names or anything?”
“Not even salt?” Paul murmured.
Monica gave him a quelling glance.
Denham shook his head. “Nothing. Nobody had suggested anything. So they decided to name the town after the box. Sort of a reminder that community spirit isn’t always too reliable around here.”
“But that’s sad.” Ronnie’s eyes were suspiciously bright. “Why didn’t somebody suggest something when they found out there weren’t any other suggestions? Maybe name it after their wife or their girlfriend or something. Didn’t they even care about what happened?”
“That’s one possibility.” Denham took another swallow of his beer. “Of course, it’s also possible that nobody could think of anything good enough, and they were afraid to suggest something bad.”
“Or maybe they all figured somebody else would come up with something, so they didn’t bother. That happens a lot.” Saltzman, the bar owner, grinned at Ronnie.
“Maybe.” Her eyes still looked faintly tearful.
Monica sighed. “It didn’t turn out too badly, Ronnie. I mean, Salt Box is a unique name. It’s a lot more memorable than some places I’ve been.”
“Thank you.” Denham bowed slightly in her direction. “I feel that way myself. Better to live in Salt Box than to live in someplace called Highland Park Acres. The town’s got a flair for the unexpected.”
Monica McKellar, associate producer of Finding Mr. Right, is desperate. One of the show’s bachelors has bailed one week before shooting starts. She not only needs a replacement ASAP, he has to get the temperamental bachelorette’s stamp of approval.
Fortunately there’s a hot guy right under her nose who’s a perfect fit. Unfortunately, he pushes all her hot buttons. Until the show’s over, her hands—and every other part of her body—are tied.
When Paul DeWitt signed on to write for the reality show, “Bachelor #10” wasn’t supposed to be in his job description. He fully expects to be cut early on, which will free him to focus on the real object of his attraction. Monica.
Instead, he’s a finalist, and they’re all packed in an SUV climbing the Continental Divide, headed for Salt Box, Colorado. Where stampeding horses, vindictive tabloid editors, and one capricious bachelorette’s waffling over suitors may conspire to end Paul and Monica’s romance before it even starts.
Warning: Contains hot sex on the sly, cold nights, creaking wicker couches, and a gypsy wagon that gives a whole new appreciation for the pioneers.
My body feels like I’ve taken ten rounds in a boxing ring. My shoulders, back, but especially my feet, ache something fierce!
Last night, I went to the county fair with my dd’s family. I rode only one ride—the Ferris wheel with the 6-year-old (I had to promise not to rock the car, she knows me). Our fair is small, but has everything you’d expect from an old-fashioned fair: a very small rodeo, animals kids raised, an art competition, rides, games and bad food.
The 2-year-old had THE best time. She couldn’t ride much because she was too small, but her eyes were round and she didn’t fuss the whole evening. She loved the carousel but hated funnel cake. She loved the balloons, but wanted her daddy to pop them. The 11-year-old met up with friends from school and raced from ride to ride. Oh, to have their energy!
Since my mind is on my aches and that warm feeling still lingering from watching all the fun the kids had, my questions are these:
When was the last time you went to the county fair? And what do you love about the fair?
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My cat Noodle is perched on my lap as I write this post. She’s helped me with promo for Bad Kitty, posing for pictures with the paperback. Don’t tell her she’s not the only inspiration for Xia, my felinoid heroine! Her contribution to Xia and her feline hero Rahal is unshakeable self-confidence. Noodle knows she’s beautiful and lovable, even if at this stage of her life she’s shaped more like a dumpling than a noodle and has a voice that can shatter glass. Likewise, my felinoid characters suffer their share of anguish, but never, like their human partner Cal, doubt that they are hot or that their lovers desire them. Real love? Oh, they have some doubts there, but they never doubt that the others want and like them. They’re so sexy and charming!
Two earlier cats who shared my life also inspired assassin Xia. Gypsy had been a feral. My ex-husband and I gradually tamed her, but she never lost that wild edge. We once caught her cornering a raccoon the size of a beagle. She weighed perhaps five pounds, but that raccoon was cowering and seemed relieved to be rescued by normally scary humans! Like Gypsy, Xia is tiny but deadly, and she can take on much larger opponents. Gypsy, though, never lost all her feral fears—the brave cat who’d hunt anything would run away at the sight of a pair of men’s work boots. Xia, too, is haunted by her past.
Pusheen was half Siamese but tortoiseshell in coloring, a sleek, elegant killing machine who devastated the local bird population. Her contribution, besides the grace she brought to slaughter, was her loyalty. I was her person and she’d protect me. Even if the only way she could figure out to do so was peeing on my ex’s stuff when he and I fought.
Luckily for the plot, Xia has resources an actual cat doesn’t. So when she needs to protect her adoptive family, she comes up with a wily plot that has definite benefits for her.
Of course, Rahal also sees some benefits to it. He’s felinoid himself, after all.
Excerpt (For some background, Rahal has been trying to blackmail Xia’s adoptive parents into being the faces for his anti-slavery campaign. She doesn’t like this plan, as it would interfere with their actual clandestine rescuing of slaves):
“My dads are obvious badasses. I’m petite and adorable and I look like the worst thing I could do is steal your lover, and I’m a trained killer. How is that not terrifying?”
“Point.” He started grinning, a real smile, not an aggressive display of fangs that nonfelinoids might mistake for a smile. “It’s classic cinema—you using the skills you learned as an exploited child to take out other evil people. But it only works if the audience isn’t dumb and so many people are dimmer than dark matter. I’m still leaning toward your fathers.”
He liked the idea. She could tell by his body language, the way his ears cocked toward her, the lilt of his tail. But she needed to sweeten the deal. Time for that good-bad idea.
She’d had sex for far worse reasons, such as I’m bored and I don’t feel like getting arrested tonight so I might as well pick someone up and It’s cold and dreary; why not curl up with someone warm. And since she wanted him as badly as she’d ever wanted anyone, why not? “Let’s put it this way. You agree to my offer, you get me. Any way you want, for as long as you want.”
“I’m not sure it counts as a good bribe,” Rahal said. “I’m all in for sexytimes with you, don’t get me wrong. But you’ve flat out said you’d sleep with me, so I’ll need more than that to consider it a bargain, not just a good time between two people who want each other already.”
Time for a careless shrug and studying her nails nonchalantly. “I never sleep with anyone. Never spend the night. But I will with you if you want. And, yeah, I was going to sex you once. No one ever gets more than once, even if they’re as good as you probably think you are. But you’ll get me all you want if you let Mik and Gan off the hook. No limits.” Then she narrowed her eyes. “If you say no, I’m out the door and you will never touch me again. But if any harm comes to my fathers because of this little plot of yours, I’ll be the one doing the touching.”
“In a life-ending sort of way?”
“In a life-ending sort of way. When you least expect it. I don’t care how tough you are or how good your bodyguards are. Sooner or later, you’ll slip up and I’ll be there.” Not an empty threat, she realized. He was good. He was probably way better than she was. But if he harmed her family, he was dead.
Rahal laughed. It sounded menacing, but mischievous, and definitely erotic. It made her shiver with lust right down to the tip of her tail. She hoped she wouldn’t have to cut off her chance to taste more of the beautiful body she’d enjoyed. Read the rest of this entry »
Last weekend I took my miniman to Denny’s to eat Breakfast. It was a mad house. I had to wait to find a place to park. Long line inside but space at the bar. So instead of waiting on a table we just decided to eat at the counter and low and behold we could see in the kitchen and watch the cooking staff, not to mention the interaction with them, the waitstaff and the manager on duty. I’m going to call her Judy, because I didn’t ever get her name!
So, back to my story. Did I mention yet it was a mad house?? Because OMG it was nuts in there. Pretty quick we got our drinks and placed our order. Waitress, Patricia, was super friendly. I figured it was going to be forever til we got food and we settled in to watch the cooks.
Holy. Shit. I have NEVER in my life seen 3 men cook as fast as they did. And they NEVER slowed down. Not once. Only time I saw them pause was when a waitress/waiter needed them to do something. They were immediately on it and then back to the orders. Ticket after ticket they closed.
It was incredible. Kid you not I was freaking in awe. And the waitstaff? They all helped each other. Cleaning tables, taking appetizers and orders out to other peoples’ tables. Fixing issues. And Judy? She wasn’t just standing off to the side and delegating. Hell to the no. She was in the thick of all of it doing everything she could to help her people and get customers taken care of.
Now let me add in the fact I’d been sick with Strep for almost two weeks, working 11hr days at my real job. Exhaustion doesn’t do justice to how I felt that morning. But these people were just awesome AND they saved me from having to cook or clean up for breakfast.
Our food was awesome. Perfect timing on everything. And Judy’s still running around like crazy.
We got finished, I paid, was about to leave but Judy needed to know how awesome they were all doing. So I waited for her to walk back behind the hostess stand, and then I asked to speak with her. She kind of deflated, but said “Absolutely, how can I help you?” On that kind of day, one extra person shoveling shit onto your plate is the worst. So I told her everything I typed above. They were all doing amazing. What a great crew she had working for her and she herself was one of the best restaurant managers I’d ever seen. Keep up the good work and she absolutely gained me as a repeat customer.
OMG you’d think I’d handed her a million dollars. She was so excited and told me I made her day and thanked me for taking the time to tell her. I heard her passing the news to two other people as I was walking out. Paying it forward to a complete stranger who needed a pick me up and a pat on the back made me feel awesome. We need more of THIS in the world to balance out the rest of the meh going around right now.
Speaking of paying it forward — I have a HUGE bag of conference swag to give away! Print books, a bag, bookmarks, pens, buttons and maybe a few naughty somethings throw in to make your heart go pitter pat!! How do you enter to win? Easy!
Just comment below and let me know something you’ve done for a perfect stranger that made their day and yours!! I’ll let my miniman pick a random winner tomorrow. Good luck!!
Decadently Yours,
Jennifer Kacey
Need something to wet your whistle while you wait to see if you won goodies??
May I suggest a delicious bite out of the Members Only series…….. 😛
Since I had an author bail on me at the last minute, I had an open spot…
So, since I’m being lazy—I was up at 6:30 to babysit the 2-year-old today, so I’ve earned it!—I thought I’d just post this reminder.
WOLF IN PLAIN SIGHT
Release date: September 22
Free to Kindle Unlimited subscribers!
To Super-cop Max Weir, the only good vampire is a dead one. Since his special police unit integrated with vampires, he’s had to suppress his natural hatred to work side by side with the undead to hunt down and terminate the deadliest killers. Now the unit’s hot on the trail of a new menace in town, a pack of werewolves prowling for vampires who don’t care whether humans get in their way.
When a stakeout goes awry, Max enters a bar looking for a fight or woman to help him blow off a little steam. What he finds is a winsome siren whose sexual appetites match his own.
Vampire Pia D’Amato is on a secret mission to take out Max—either by seduction or turning him. He’s become a liability to the Masters’ Council setting up jurisdiction in southern Florida, and she’s not leaving until she’s done the job. But Max is more man than she bargained for with a deadly secret of his own.
I’m busy at the moment dreaming up my next Uncharted SEALs adventure, and I got to wondering whether you knew I had a previous ex-SEAL series…
It’s a touch on the zany side because, for the heroines, I played with that old fish-out-of-water trope. They are all travel agents, having to check out the new adventure line of vacations they’re offering their clients, when you guess it—$hit happens.
For Maya in Dangerous Liaison, she’s mistaken for a drug lord’s daughter and kidnapped right out of an anti-terrorist training school.
I’ve given you a taste of Lace’s adventure below—her boat’s about to be hijacked for ransom.
And lastly, Susan in It Takes a SEAL is stranded on a desert island with her hunky SEAL.
I had fun with the stories, even more fun with the titles, they are all derived from movie titles. An author has to find the fun or her work would become drudgery. And of course, I say that while I’m sitting in my pajamas with bed head, while I begin my day’s work… It’s okay to hate me. 🙂
Comment for a chance to win Mutiny’s Bounty or a short story on this carousel!
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Interested only in experiencing an adrenaline-packed adventure first-hand to give her credo when she books her clients’ adventure vacations, Lace McElhannon finds more excitement than she can handle when she meets and falls into bed with ex-SEAL Dex Haygood.
Fresh from protecting transport ships from Somali pirates, Dex figures his latest job will be a cakewalk, until he finds himself in deep water, swimming with sharks and trying to protect Lace when the yacht they’re sailing on is taken.
“Sweetheart, the sharks are down there.” Ice blue eyes wrinkled at the corners as the man bending over the side of the olive-green skiff pointed a finger into the clear blue depths beneath her.
Did he think she’d missed seeing the swarm, or flock, or whatever the hell you called a group of freaking sharks? They were busy ripping into the grisly bundle of fish parts and guts the dive crew had dropped to the sea floor in a wire basket—which was why she’d hurried over here.
“Exactly! Like any sane person would purposely swim with sharks?” She let her voice frag, then crimped her lips to keep from saying anything else that made her sound like she was twelve. Lace McElhannon was glad she hadn’t given him a snarky wag of her head while she’d said it. But seriously, who would blame her for being snotty? Great White sharks were swimming thirty feet beneath her toes and he wasn’t doing anything about it! Read the rest of this entry »
I recently heard of a study where women were shown 75 pictures of men, and they overwhelmingly agreed it was a guy’s smile that called to them. Now, I’m not sure if these were only headshots being viewed or if the women responding were just being PC ;-), but I will boldly admit that the first thing I notice is a man’s chest. Given the mass quantities of bare-chested photos posted to Facebook pages, I’m inclined to think I’m not alone here!
Reality can be hotter than fiction.
