Six Sentence Sunday

I’ve been a follower of Six Sentence Sunday for a while now, but hadn’t gotten up the nerve to participate – until now. So…

Welcome to my blog. Hope you enjoy this little excerpt from my debut novel, THE LUST BOAT. Ryan has arranged an erotic massage class for Candace. Thor is the instructor.

Thor’s hand left her, taking his heat with him, only to be replaced by Ryan’s hand that burned even hotter. She’d never been more embarrassed in her life, but oh God it felt good. Ryan’s touch overwhelmed her, reduced her to a mass of raw nerve endings. Thor continued to issue instructions to Ryan. His voice faded away in the sensual haze Candace drifted in. Lost in the incredible warmth and the need building inside her, she moved her hips, lifting against the delicious pressure Ryan created.

If you want to know more about me, or my books, stop by my website www.rozlee.net

Have a wonderful day!

Roz Lee

I Bought It – Why Can’t I Share It?

By Roz Lee

The world is changing, and along with it, my bookshelf. One upon a time, I bought real books. You know the ones—they’re made of paper and you hold them in your hand and actually have to turn the pages. When you’ve read them, they gather dust on your shelves; take up space in drawers and in boxes in the garage and attic because you can’t bring yourself to part with them.

Now I have one of those fancy electronic books. I click a few keys, and before I can find my reading glasses, a dozen new books appear on my virtual bookshelf. I can carry my entire library on vacation with me. I can add to my collection from anywhere, whether I’m at the beach or riding in the car. It’s a miracle. It’s technology.

It’s also the bane of every author’s existence.

EBook Piracy undermines the existence of the publishing industry. Readers download their favorite titles, and then share them with the world, and see nothing wrong with doing so. I’ve had a hard time understanding why it’s wrong too, but bear with me for a few minutes and I think I can explain.

There are two parts to a book. The first part is the physical book. Its sheets of paper bound together. The other part is the CONTENT. That’s the ideas, the story printed on the pages. The Book is what you purchased, the paper and the binding. The CONTENT belongs to the person who owns the copyright. Nine times out of ten, this is the author.

Back when, you went to the bookstore and came home with a book you could hold in your hand. You read the book, and you liked it so much you wanted to share it. You handed the book to a friend or relative to read. You no longer have possession of that book. There is still only the one copy you purchased, whether you gave it away or loaned it. You have not separated the CONTENT from the BOOK. You have done nothing wrong.

Now, let’s consider another scenario. You bought the book and brought it home. You read it. You loved it. You wanted to share it with everyone you know. You take it to work and use the copy machine to run off one, or two dozen, copies and give them away. You have violated the author’s copyright. You have copied the CONTENT of the BOOK. You may give away or loan the paper and binding, but the CONTENT is a separate entity and belongs to the author.

So now, you’ve moved into the modern world and purchased an eReader. You went online and purchased an electronic book (eBook). What you downloaded to your eReader is the CONTENT of the book. If you give or loan your eReader to someone else, and allow them to read the book you purchased, you have done nothing wrong, the same as loaning the paper and binding type book. The CONTENT you purchased the right to read is still in the electronic device you used to read it.

Scenario #2. You download an electronic book to your eReader or computer. You want to share it with one, or a million people you know, because it’s the best book you’ve ever read. You copy the file (CONTENT), attach it to an email and send it to everyone on your contact list, or to just your best friend. It doesn’t matter if it’s one copy, or ten million. It’s still copyright infringement. You have separated the CONTENT from the delivery method – in this case, and electronic device of some sort.

Why is it copyright infringement? Because you have copied the CONTENT of a book and given it away without the consent of the person who owns the copyright (the author), nor has the copyright owner received payment for the use of the material they spent countless hours creating. It’s the same as if you’d taken a physical book and made copies on the office copy machine. It’s just infinitely easier, and faster. And if you can do it, what’s to stop the people you sent it to from doing it too? Nothing.

This is what authors are up against today. Too many people believe that the intellectual work of another should be given away for free. Let me give you a simple example. Let’s say you invent a really great gadget. It’s something everyone needs, or at least, everyone wants. You’ve put in countless hours thinking about it, drawing sketches, making prototypes, testing, perfecting, until it’s the best-darned gadget it can be. You spend your life savings having some professionally made, and you invest in a marketing plan to sell them. People buy them. You are ecstatic! You’ve made a difference in the world. People will know your name!

A few weeks after your initial success, you see that everyone in the world now has one of your gadgets, only you have not sold that many gadgets. Someone else has made these and given them away to everyone on the planet. Now, no one is going to buy yours. You will never be able to reap the profits you deserve for all the time and intellectual talent you put into the concept and creation of your gadget.

Sucks, doesn’t it?

What if you went to work every day for a week, a month, a year, several years? You put in long hours on the job thinking you would be paid when the task was satisfactorily completed. Only when you complete the task, someone takes the fruit of your labor, gives it away, and tells you thanks for all the hard work, it’s really top notch work, but I don’t want pay you. Oh, and by the way, could you do that again please? I really loved the first one!

Yeah, that sucks too.

Let me assure you, very few authors are getting rich from their book sales, whether they are physical books or eBooks. Even in an eBook, there are a lot of middle-men who get their share of the proceeds first. Still, money earned is how society measures success, and authors are no different than anyone else in that respect. A lot goes into writing a book. They don’t just spring out of our heads and then miraculously get published. Like every other worker out there, we want to be paid for our labors, and the way we do that is by selling books.

Fat Lady on a Treadmill - Moved to Tears

I was moved to tears today on the elliptical. No, it had nothing to do with that cursed machine, though I’ve been close to tears on it many times. Today, instead of daydreaming about my next novel, I tuned in to the newscast on the nearest television. This is the day Representative Gabrielle Giffords left the University Medical Center in Tucson. Thirteen days after a failed assassination attempt, she left the hospital. She’s far from recovered, but, and this is where the romance author in me comes out—she was moved to a hospital closer to her husband’s home.

I can relate to her long distance marriage. I have one of those too, but hers reads like the cheesiest (my favorite kind) of romance novel. The Congresswoman and the Astronaut. Even network news couldn’t resist that title. Congresswoman Giffords lives in Arizona and Washington D.C. Her astronaut husband and her step-daughters live in Houston. There isn’t a romance writer on the planet who isn’t kicking themselves for not coming up with that scenario sooner! No doubt, several manuscripts are in the works right now with a similar hero and heroine.

But this is more than a romance novel. It’s a real life drama that involves the entire nation. Thirteen days ago we were shocked when a man turned a gun on a gathering of citizens exercising their right to speak to their Congressional Representative. That representative was doing what was she was elected to do—listen to her constituents. By all accounts, Congresswoman Giffords did this on a regular basis, and with an open mind to hear what they had to say. No matter what side of the political fence you sit on, you have to admire that kind of dedication to the job.

It’s been almost two weeks since the tragedy, and the memorials continue to grow for the other victims, many of whom died on that fateful day. I’ve been touched by the memorials, but they grew out of the community’s grief. I understand that. It’s natural to mourn the loss of life, especially when it ends so abruptly and in a manner we can’t fathom.

What moved me to tears today was a different kind of emotional outpouring. Today, a cavalcade of vehicles escorted Congresswoman Giffords from the hospital to the plane waiting to take her to Houston. A group of motorcyclists from the local VFW led the way, along with a police and fire escort. The ambulance proceeded slowly, respectfully, taking tender care of the precious cargo. From a helicopter vantage point, I witnessed something that made me proud to be an American. People lined the route, some held signs or waved American flags. Others cheered, waved or applauded. Some stood in solemn respect as Congresswoman Giffords took a figurative giant step in her recovery. They were there because they wanted Congresswoman Giffords to know they respect her dedication to public service. They were there because they believe in miracles, and because they needed to celebrate triumph over tragedy. They were there to celebrate the invincible American Spirit.

I couldn’t see what was going on inside the ambulance, but I can imagine her husband by her side, holding her hand as he has for countless hours, witness to this demonstration of American Spirit. Perhaps he was describing it to her, or tucking it away to tell her about when she’s ready to hear it. It’s a love story between two extraordinary Americans, and a love story between Americans and America.

Today I’m grateful for American heroes. They come in all shapes, sizes, genders and ethnic backgrounds. They serve our country in many ways. Some serve in uniform, others in local, state or national office. Some pursue scientific knowledge. Some wear a badge or a stethoscope; wield a gavel, a scalpel or a textbook. What they all have in common is a love of the American people and the American ideal. Congresswoman Giffords is an American hero.

All romance novels end with a HEA—Happily Ever After. For many involved in this tragedy, there will be no HEA, but for this extraordinary couple, I hope today was one more step toward the larger than life happy ending they deserve.

The Pros and Cons of eReaders - An electronic Media Tutorial

The Pros and Cons of eReaders

An Electronic Media Tutorial

By Roz Lee

You’ve decided you want an eReader, but you don’t have a clue what one is, or which one to buy. News of the explosion of electronic media, ebooks, is everywhere and you’re afraid you’re being left behind. Not to worry. Do you have a computer? How about a smart phone (iPhone, Droid, Blackberry, etc.)? Do you have an iPod Touch or iPad?

If you do, you already have an eReader. All the major dedicated (that’s all they do) eReaders have free apps for most, if not all, of the hardware I just listed. So, unless you want a device specifically for reading electronic media, and by that, I mean books, magazines and newspapers, then you already have the means to download and read via the newest publishing technology.

Let’s for a moment consider that you are in the market for an eReader. Perhaps you spend enough time on your cell phone already, and the idea of reading your favorite Romance author’s latest via that device ruins the whole experience for you, or your computer is also your work computer and you don’t want the boss to find out you read erotic romance on your lunch hour, or all your electronic devices are shared by you and the kids, then a dedicated eReader might be for you.

Which one do you choose?

The answer lies in what you want to do with your new eReader. Do you want to read books, and only books? How about newspapers and magazines? Do you want to read children’s books with your kids or grandkids? Are you going to buy books, or check them out from your public library? Didn’t know you could do that? Well, you can. More and more titles are becoming available every day.

First, let’s examine what an eReader can do for you that a traditional book can’t.

· eReaders store thousands of books for you. Most have substantial built-in storage, up to around 1500 titles, as well as off-site archives with limitless capacity. If you want to go back and revisit a favorite, it will always be there at your fingertips, dust free.

· eReaders provide instant gratification. No waiting for the library to fetch the title you want from another branch, no trip to the bookstore in the snow or rain, no waiting until the bookstore or library opens to pick up another book. Online bookstores are open 24/7, everyday of the year. And, there are no books to return to the library, ever.

· You can take your entire library on vacation with you. Yep, no more suitcase full of paperbacks. No more purchases in the airport bookstore when your flight is delayed and you’ve finished the one book you packed into your carryon.

· You need to review a contract, or a set of plans for work, but you don’t want to lug them, or your computer, with you on the train, plane, or cruise ship. Most eReaders allow you to download .pdf files from your computer. You can bookmark and make notations as you read.

· You forgot your dictionary, and you don’t understand all the big words the author used. No problem. Use the built-in dictionary without leaving the page.

· You broke your reading glasses, or you’re too vain to wear them, and the print is too small to read. No problem. Enlarge the font, and keep reading. If the font still isn’t big enough, if you bought one of the many books with audio content, your eReader will read the book to you. Use your headphones, or you and your significant other can listen to the good bits together! Which brings me to another benefit…

· No bookcover, means no one will know what you’re reading! Just think, you can read that steamy romance in the break room and no one will be the wiser, except for the flush on your face and the fact that you’ve been fanning yourself and everyone else is huddling for warmth!

Next, let’s be fair and mention a few drawbacks.

• · There’s nothing like the crack of a crisp, new book spine. You won’t get that with an eReader. Unless you have one of the color eReaders, you won’t get all the joy out of the beautiful cover art. You will have to charge it on occasion, but the battery life is much longer than you would expect.

• · This is the one that gets many people. You can’t share the book you just bought. We all do it. We buy a book and we like it so much we want all our friends to read it too, so we pass it along, and along, and along. That’s not always a bad thing. Many times it generates new fans who actually buy other titles by that author. However, this is slowly changing, and I think eventually you will be able to share ebooks in a limited manner. It sounds like a nasty trick to play on the consumer, but unlike traditional print books, ebooks can be pirated on the internet, and made available for free to millions of people in the blink of an eye. Not too many people want to scan and reprint physical books just so they can give them away. Internet piracy steals untold millions from authors who are entitled to revenue from the sale of their books.

Enough for today. In the next installment, we’ll talk about what’s on the market. Color vs. black and white, wi-fi vs. 3-G, and iPad vs. dedicated eReader.

Fat Lady on a Treadmill - You Can't Teach an Old Dog New Tricks, and Other Myths

I can’t believe it’s been a whole year since I began this journey. Twelve months ago, I started out as a reluctant and skeptical participant in what I fully expected to be a short-lived experiment in exercise. If I’ve learned nothing else from my experience, I’ve learned that you can teach and old dog (metaphor) new tricks.

Twelve months ago I’d never set foot inside a fitness center (AKA the Pit). I had no desire to. I’d done the required classes in school, even did the ones in college. When given a choice, I chose the easiest ones I could find. I took square dancing and badminton, for example. Once, in a moment of insanity, I signed up for a class they labeled Conditioning. What it turned out to be was running. Three days a week. In the Texas heat. Since Texas only has two days of Spring, and two point three days of Fall, and the other three hundred sixty-three point seven days are hot, you get the idea. I was not a happy camper. To make it worse, they threw in a bunch of sit-ups and other undignified, unnecessary, impossible tasks. All of which we were graded upon. I managed to squeak out a passing grade and vowed never to run again.

I’ve kept that vow. Unless something with plans to make me its next meal is chasing me, I don’t run. Thus, the whole idea of going to the Pit was a bit of a turnoff from the get-go. Daughter #1 convinced me to go. She offered to help me get started. I now know she didn’t really have my best interest in mind, she just didn’t want to go alone. I guess I should be flattered that she didn’t mind being seen with me in such a place, but, now that I think back on it, she did walk several steps ahead of me and there was that time I tried to talk to her when she was on the treadmill and she acted like she couldn’t hear me.

Oh well. The joke’s on her. Not only did I stick with it, I’ve logged more time in the confounded place than she has in all her years. I have to admit, I spent the first few months wondering what the heck I was doing there. I hated it. Not that I’m all that fond of it now, but hate might be too strong a word. Let’s just say I find the place to be interesting. You see, I’m a people watcher. It’s a hobby that you can do just about anywhere, but some places are better than others. Malls and airports are good places. Grocery stores – not so good. Pits – excellent places. Especially in SoCal.

We’re no more than a long lens shot from the hub of the entertainment industry. Several major studios have lots in our little valley and scenes from our town routinely show up in television programs and on the big screen. That means lots of industry types live here. They’re a colorful bunch. And one of the places they like to see and be seen at, is the Pit. This alone, I believe, is the real reason I have stuck with it.

You never know what you might see. Any change in the weather, and yes, there are precious few of those here, brings in something, or someone, new. Even the bi-annual time change brings in a new element to observe. Don’t get me started on full moons. I credit the full moon for some of my best oddity sightings, many of which I’ve documented here for your enjoyment as well.

I suppose I was one of those oddities a year ago. Probably still am to the trained people watcher out there. When I began, I could barely pedal a lounge chair bike around the block. Climbing stairs had me gasping for air on the second step. I hung onto the handrails of the half and ¾ racks for safety reasons, not to get a quick heart rate fix. The full rack was a contraption I was sure could double as a sobriety test – one I couldn’t pass. The only weight lifting I’d ever done was squat lifting a ten-pound bag of sugar off the lowest grocery store shelf.

I’m happy to report that none of those things are true any longer. It took a while, and a lot of people watching, to get to where I am now. I’m not going to win any muscle woman competitions, but I’ve come a long way since crossing the starting line a year ago. I’ve lost some weight, but gained muscle. Yeah, I thought that was BS too, but it’s true. The scale hasn’t budged much, but things aren’t the same shape they were before. I’m not going to get into just what has changed, but I will say that hubby isn’t complaining about any of it. That’s good enough for me. I’ve replaced my jeans a couple of times with smaller sizes, and that’s a good feeling too.

I’ve stopped worrying about the number on the scale and have focused more on the long-range goal. I vowed long ago that I would be a fantastic grandmother, but I also told my two daughters that I would be pleased to be a very old grandmother. It seems they took that to heart, and so it’s more important than ever that I keep the machinery in good working order.

Then there’s this new career I’ve been trying to get off the ground. Things are looking promising in that arena, but writing is a sedentary occupation. People watching at the Pit gives me an excuse to get off my a**, and move. It doesn’t have to be all that much, just an hour a day, but it gets my blood pumping and I think that helps the brain, as well as the spreading a** syndrome writers are prone to. I’ve found that plugging into my playlist and heading off on a magic carpet ride is a great way to work through plot problems and germinate new ideas. If I’m fortunate enough observe a few rare or endangered human species along the way, so much the better.

I’ve learned a few new tricks over the last year, and that surprised me more than anything. I won’t lie and tell you I wake up every morning and say, “I can’t wait to go to the Pit.” That just isn’t going to happen folks. Is loathe too strong a word? Maybe, maybe not. Perhaps I can tap into my inner thesaurus tomorrow while I’m climbing a virtual skyscraper and come up with a better word. I’ve always been fond of abhor…

Fat Lady on a Treadmill - Ode to Eau d'Pit

Every once in a while the weather changes in SoCal. It doesn’t usually change for long, a day or two, then it’s back to hot, dry and windy. Today I woke to a thick gray blanket of fog. Not terribly unusual if you live in a coastal community, but in our little inland valley it ranks up there with alien invasions. I think a lot of people feared the apocalypse and called in sick at their place of employment. Either that, or a good many places shut down because they thought the electricity had been cut off. I hate to tell them that skylights are not a primary source of interior lighting, but someone needs to clue them in and show them where the light switch is.

Oh well, I digress. Due to the inclement weather this morning, the pit was packed. Friday mornings at the CCPit are usually my favorite time slot all week long. It’s almost like having my Pocono Pit back. Almost, but not quite. So, this morning I was surprised to see the influx of peeps. They were everywhere. They’d come in out of the fog like ants seeking water in a drought. I managed to get in a few of my resistance weight’s and headed upstairs to the racks and treadmills. There were a few dog walkers open, but I don’t do those, despite the name of this article. To my dismay there was only one half rack open, smack in the middle of the line. I took it.

It soon became obvious why it wasn’t in use. It wasn’t level. It’s all I can do to stay on one of these things anyway. The last thing I need is the darned thing trying to buck me off. Nevertheless, I wasn’t ready to call it quits. I’d made the effort to get there, I wanted to get my death defying workout in.

I established a herky-jerky rhythm that allowed me to hang on with some semblance of decorum. Southern by birth, decorum is as much a part of me as my lazy drawl. As much as I wish I could shed it on occasion, it isn’t going anywhere.

One of the things I like about the CCPit is the lack of televisions on the machines. However, they do have some pretty ginormous ones hanging from the ceiling and it’s almost impossible to ignore them all the time. I don’t tune into the audio feed, but all of them are set up with closed-captioning, so if something catches my eye I can read along, or read lips. One commercial caught my attention. It was for Vagisil Feminine Wash. It’s not what you’re thinking. It’s a body wash. The commercial claimed it would eliminate embarrassing odor.

Many of you know of my alter ego, the one that writes erotic romance, so you won’t be surprised that my mind took off in a different direction. I looked at the bright pink squeeze bottle with the giant Vagisil label on it, and wondered what kind of woman would have this in her shower. This is the scenario. Woman (any age) brings her date back to her place. They hook up (modern code for do you-know-what), hey, I’m Southern, decorum, remember? Anyway, they hook up. He asks to use her shower. He steps in, sees giant pink Vagisil bottle and steps out. Within minutes, he has used his smart phone to locate the address of the closest clinic and sprints out the door faster than the Roadrunner with Coyote on his tail, never to be seen again. Heck, even my husband would probably ask some questions if I put that in our shower.

Shortly after this commercial aired, pardon the pun, the half rack next to me became available. That lasted all of ten seconds before another woman claimed it. No chance of me switching for a machine without a flat tire. I said a few choice words to myself, decorum remember, and went on with my business. Then I noticed it. A stench I could not ignore. Having raised two children, stenches are something you develop immunity to. You have to, or you’d never make it until the kids were grown.

Whoever told you that you can’t smell anything if you breathe through your mouth was mistaken. I’m trying to be nice here and not call them a liar. This decorum thing is really a drag sometimes. Anyway, I tried to ignore it, I really did. Then the commercial came on again. Suddenly I knew who it was directed at. I sooo wanted to tap her on the shoulder and make sure she saw the big pink bottle on the screen, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

Instead, I decided my workout was as complete as it was going to get. The way I figure it, with all the extra muscle’s I had to use to stay on the thing, I’d done the equivalent of two workouts. This is my story and I’m sticking to it. I am however contemplating buying a bright pink bottle and putting it in our shower to see what reaction it gets. Could be amusing.

Fat Lady on a Treadmill - The Megapit

It’s been a month since I returned to SoCal, and what a month it has been. Many of you know, shortly after my last blog post, hubby had an event and spent several days in the hospital. After every test known to science, the pronounced him fit and sent him home. Needless to say, neither one of us went to the pit for a few days.

Once hubby was home and rested up, he decided it was time to get back to his daily workout routine. I decided it was in my best interest to go with him, just in case he decided to have another event. We headed over to the Megapit, formerly the VPit, and since it was a weekday afternoon, we procured a parking spot within walking distance of the front door. This was my first peek inside the place since the remodel and I have to say, it’s something to see. I stood there like a tourist, admiring the biggest, highest, longest, deepest, landmark- only this is a gym. Not usually something to gawk at, but in this case, it is.

I’ve never seen so many torture devices in one place, or so many scantily clad people. I figured if all the silicone and Botox in the place didn’t do hubby in, then he was good to go. For the first time ever, I didn’t lock my cell phone in a locker. I kept it with me, just in case. Even though everyone else in the place had a phone, I didn’t trust them. I’m certain they had their plastic surgeons and agents on speed-dial, but doubted they could string three numbers together in an emergency.

I could see the entire thing. Hubby collapses. A crowd gathers. Fingers fly over touch screens. I rush to hubby’s side, grateful someone has the presence of mind to call the first responders. As I try to revive hubby I hear the conversations around me. “Quick, call the news, call someone. I can get some face-time out of this if you get right on it!”

Fortunately, hubby did just fine and no one needed to call for emergency help, of any variety.

Since then, we’ve returned to our normal routine. I go to the pit in the morning, hubby goes in the afternoon, and my cell phone is once again in the locker.

I’ve not been back to the Megapit since that day. Let me tell you why. For one, all the new cardio torture devices have TV screens on them. I don’t watch TV while I’m torturing myself. I watch people, or work through plot problems. I don’t need video in my face to do this.

Second reason – In order to cram as many treadmills and racks in as possible, they reduced the number of resistance weight machines. These are now tucked into a small alcove that once housed the free weights. The walls are mirrored, and some of the machines I use daily are on the back row –facing the mirror. Not that I care about the mirror placement, but it’s a strong pull for the vain, and there are plenty who fall into that category at the Megapit. I sauntered by and both (yes, only two now) of the machines were occupied by male C-30’s who seemed to be using them as strategically positioned park benches. I chose another machine and waited for them to leave. They didn’t. They also didn’t use the machines. Nope, they were too busy admiring themselves in the mirror (really, it wasn’t that good of a show), and I suspect, checking out the female backsides reflected there.

I moved on to the rack where I could keep an eye on hubby, just in case you know. He finished his run. I cut short my torture session and followed him to the alcove. My chosen machines were still occupied by the same vain voyeurs. Peeved, I went in search of a leg press machine. I found a leg press machine – yes one. They’d stashed it in the new addition, along with the gazillion new free weights. (Park benches would have been cheaper and just as useful) I was the only woman in the new area, except maybe in the spinning room where they have more bikes than the Tour de France. Anyway, undaunted by the bro’s text messaging from the weight benches, I did my leg torture and left. Hubby was still in the alcove, and my favorite machines were still doing duty as Peeping Tom perches.

I gave up. I now spend my pit time across town where the vain population is much smaller and I can do my usual routine without having to have a fly swatter to remove the pests. It isn’t without its share of interesting characters, and I do have some observations from there, but I’ll save those for another time.

Thanks to all who shared their concerns over hubby’s health. Until next time…