Not only did I win the award, I received a great review quote about MATING NET, too.

Two interviews (of me) are floating around the internet.

I've also rambled a bit on various blogs:
http://survival-romance.blogspot.com
http://aliendjinnromances.blogspot.com
http://outdamnedstory.blogspot.com/
http://rowenacherry.blogspot.com/

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Are you a genius? To find out, count every 'F' in the following text:

FINISHED  FILES ARE THE RESULT OF YEARS OF SCIENTIFIC STUDY COMBINED WITH THE EXPERIENCE OF YEARS...

How many Fs did you find?

Scroll down to find out if you are correct.

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A Regency-set paranormal tale currently available in print and ebook
format from Ellora's Cave as part of the Ellora's Cavemen series.

This story appears in the "Dreams of the Oasis II" volume,
which was released in June, 2006.

Meet Ellora's Cave cover model, calendar front man and centerfold Joe "Diamond" Gruber. Blue-eyed, lap dancing, biker-dude Joe is the Rowena Cherry newsletter's "Mr. Thanksgiving and Christmas"

RC: Joe, thank you for being such a great sport about this interview. The first thing I'm sure everyone wants to know is why they call you "Joe Diamond".

JDG: That is my stage name when I dance. I picked it because every woman deserves a diamond. Plus, no one misspells it or mispronounces it.

RC: Which, then, was your first love? Dancing or modeling?

JDG: Modeling came after dancing. You need pictures to promote the dancing.

RC: Is this Chippendales type dancing?

JDG: I dance with some groups that do Chippendale's style dancing where they do lots of stage shows, but I also dance with groups that do smaller bars with more up-close and personal interaction.

RC: How did you start dancing professionally? And how did you feel that first time?

JDG: Some dancers approached me in the gym about joining their group. After declining a couple of times, I decided to try it. I thought I was terrible my first time. Stage fright really gets everyone and women will candidly critique you. Somehow, that didn't stop me. I am very comfortable performing for a crowd now. Ok -- I love it.

RC: You mentioned that while you are dancing, women candidly critique you. Please tell me more.

JDG: When I first began, I was very nervous and shy and not exactly the world's smoothest dancer. I've seen a lot of guys go out on stage for the first time and look like a deer caught in headlights.  A lot of the women will compare you to guys who have been dancing longer. Now that I'm a more experienced dancer, I get nothing but positive feedback.

RC: What does lap dancing feel like? It looks very uncomfortable, both for you, and for the woman you are sitting on. Is it really a strain on your thighs? Are there rules about what movements you can make and what positions you can be it? (You do look pretty dangerous in one of those shots you sent me!)

JDG: Lap dances are like foreplay. It's like sex without penetration and you can end up in many different positions, most simulating sex. Some women even experience orgasm during a lap dance. As far as rules or regulations for dancing go, different states and different dancing groups have different rules. I have danced with larger groups like Chippendale's and Men of Playgirl who entertain more on stage as opposed to crowd contact. I mostly work with smaller groups in smaller bars where I can get more personal with the ladies, which I prefer.

RC: Have you ever been injured on the job? Are there occupational hazards to professional dancing/modeling that most people would never consider?

JDG: I tore my ACL while dancing, and I have probably been scratched just about everywhere on my body.

RC: What is your ACL? How did it happen? Were you in great pain? What kind of first aid did you receive from the audience? Did you have to limp off while pretending nothing was wrong?

JDG: The ACL is the center ligament of the knee. During a male revue, I was dancing in the crowd and lifted a girl to my waist. When I shifted my weight to the left, I heard a  "popping" sound and my knee hurt like hell! I returned the girl safely to her chair and hopped my way backstage. Needless to say, I wasn't able to finish the show. The injury prevented me from dancing for almost two months. After the swelling reduced, I was able to start rehabilitation, which consisted of stretches, stationary bicycling, and leg extensions and leg curls.

RC: I am delighted to hear that you returned the girl safely to her chair!

RC: On your MySpace site, http://www.myspace.com/modeljoegruber you describe yourself as a "biker dude." "Bikers" have an image which is probably misunderstood, do you find that? Do you have a tattoo?

JDG: Definitely. A biker to me is someone who rides-rain or shine, summer or winter. I don't have any tattoos. I always wanted one, but couldn't decide what or where.

RC: What does biking mean for you? What is the longest distance you have traveled by bike?

JDG: I love anything with two wheels and get a good feeling when riding. My longest ride was from Lakeworth, FL, to Gill, MA. I stopped only for fuel, food, and to bond out for a speeding ticket in North Carolina.

RC: What is the "interesting" experience you've had while biking?

JDG: One of my most interesting stories happened in FL. A buddy from NY and I were coming off the beach and decided to do side-by-side wheelies. As we crossed an intersection, we saw a police car to our right. We dropped the front wheels and got the heck out of there.

RC: This seems a good point to ask how you became an Ellora's Caveman.

JDG: After seeing the 2005 calendar, I asked one of the models if he could hook me up. He seemed doubtful, but set-up a meeting between Patti Marks, CEO/CFCO of Ellora's Cave and me.

I went to the Ellora's Cave office, took of my shirt for Patti and some of the other girls in the office and they approved me. The rest is history.

RC: What went through your mind during that audition? Were you nervous? Did you have any doubts?

JDG: I felt very good. I am always sculpting my body in the gym and I love to show it off. I had no doubts.

RC: Tell me more about body sculpting. Quite a number of cover models tell me that their interest in fitness began during their service to the country. You were a Marine. How did being in the military impact your life?

JDG: The military taught me the importance of punctuality and I learned how good it felt to be in cardiovascular shape. The military helped sculpt me. I gained ten pounds of muscle in boot camp. I didn't model or dance before joining up. I was just a kid then.

RC: Some of the models I've interviewed like to do special exercises or diet to prepare for a shoot. Do You?

JDG: I stay in good shape all year round and dieting just flattens my muscles. I do more cardio before a shoot.

RC: How long do shoots take? And are the group shoots for calendars more complicated and time consuming?

JDG: Normally shoots run one to two hours. Group shoots aren't any more time consuming or complicated than individual shots.

RC: I've wondered about those exotic outfits you guys wear for the calendars and covers! Are the loin cloths and fantasy costumes custom made and fitted beforehand, or do you turn up not knowing what you'll be asked to attach to your body?

JDG: I bring the body, they bring the outfits.

RC: Are cover shoots ever physically exciting? Can that be a problem when your costumes seem pretty flimsy?

JDC: Getting "excited" isn't a problem for me since intimacy is my biggest turn on and that's not going to happen in a crowd. Wardrobe malfunctions aren't a problem either. I'm comfortable naked.

RC: What was the most memorable shoot you ever took part in?

JDG: My most memorable cover shoot was at the Romantic Times Convention in Daytona Beach, FL, in the hotel pool. I felt so comfortable with Seneca Featherstone, an Ellora's Cave photographer. The cover isn't available yet, but please look for it on a new line of books from Ellora's Cave.

RC: Do you have any ambitions for the future, or any other careers you'd like to try?

JDG: I would love to try acting. Much like dancing on stage, acting is an opportunity to role play. You get to be someone else and see things from a different perspective.

RC: If you could act in any play --or movie-- ever produced to date, which would it be? And which character would you be (or which actor's role would you take?) ?

JDG: My favorite movies are action films. I would love to see myself on screen playing a role like Hercules, classic or modern. I feel myself drawn to that particular time in history when a sword and physical strength could determine a man's destiny. 

RC: Thank you very much for a superb interview, Joe. Is there anything you'd like to add?

JDG: I'm on the cover of the 2006 Ellora's Cavemen calendar. If any of your readers are interested in one, just visit www.ellorascave.com Plus, there's a pretty hot centerfold of me in the calendar. I look forward to meeting your readers next year at the RT Convention!

RC: Thanks again to Joe Diamond Gruber.  For readers who would like to see more of Joe, there are some fabulous photos on Joe's MySpace site http://www.myspace.com/modeljoegruber

 

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The correct answers were 5 AND 6 which doubled everyone's chance of getting a correct answer. 

What we did was to use one picture of Joe Gruber twice.

It seems that no one did both puzzles and figured it out. But that's OK. 

The winner is: Minna Puustinen from Finland 

Minna will receive an Advance Review Copy of INSUFFICIENT MATING MATERIAL.

 

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The November/December contest will be a Do Nothing contest.

Win the very last ARC that I will give away before INSUFFIENT MATING MATERIAL is released for sale.

At the end of December I will ask a neutral third party to pick a number at random from between 1 and 2,500. Every "subscriber" to my free newsletter has an "Entry number" depending on the order in which they signed up (or were signed up, if they entered a Fresh Fiction or TRS contest)

HIDDEN IMAGE CONTEST

Rowena Cherry is delighted to announce a HIDDEN IMAGE contest in conjunction with the January 31st, 2007 release of INSUFFICIENT MATING MATERIAL.

An image is hidden on the covers of INSUFFICIENT MATING MATERIAL. Identify it, and you could win a $500 book-shopping spree.

This contest runs from January 31st 2007 until February 28th 2007.

Void where prohibited. No purchase necessary to enter.

A complete list of rules can be viewed at http://www.rowenacherry.com/hiddenimage/

I PROMISE YOU A NIGHT IN BED WITH AN ALIEN....

For those of you with a color printer, or a black and white printer and colored paper (I guess), I'm putting up a festive scroll for those last minute stocking stuffers. Please take a look at www.rowenacherry.com/stockingstuffer/ 

The download is free, it is purely for fun, you have no obligation to actually redeem it... though I hope you will.

There will be a new one for Valentines Day. 

NO PRINCESS NEED APPLY
Copyright Susan Sizemore

"This one." The State Department official bent forward to peer at the glossy photo His Supremacy was holding up. What he saw was a pair of black silk pajamas, perfectly prim and proper, except that they outlined every curve of the magnificent body of the model wearing them. The young woman had a tousled mane of auburn hair. The clinging silk somehow made her more provocative than if she'd been completely naked. The promisingly teasing expression on the model's exquisite face was just as enticing. That look probably helped sell a lot of underwear. "I'll take that one." The diplomat reluctantly looked away from the magazine advertisement. "I don't understand, Your Supremacy." There was an amused twinkle in the Emperor's startlingly blue eyes, but a great deal of impatience in the gesture as his blunt fingers stabbed at the glossy paper. He was not used to dealing with deliberately obtuse functionaries, and he'd been subjected to far too many such persons since coming to Washington. "I like the look of this one." Advertisers are shameless. Even emperors are not immune from the blandishments of mass mailings. Which is how the Emperor of the Kariin Empire came to be perusing a famous lingerie catalog over breakfast by the indoor pool on this sunny morning in his 'guest' accommodations. The official's puzzled expression cleared. "I see. You want to order these." The emperor tilted his head to one side. "I wasn't thinking in multiples. I'm not that sort of man. Just one will do." He ran his finger caressingly across the photo. He smiled warmly as his gaze took in that lovely face once more. "This one." ### "I don't think there's anything to be afraid of, Mama. Really. They've been here six months. If they'd wanted to eat us or anything I think they would have fired up the barbecue by now." Summer switched the cordless phone to her other ear while her mother made a sharp retort. "Sorry, Mama, I didn't mean to be gross. New York's no more dangerous now than it was before they came here. Besides, most of them are in Washington. There's a group at the U.N., but I've never actually seen one. Hardly anybody has, really. Besides, I have been in Paris, you know. And doing the spring collections here. I've been too busy to worry about the whole thing. Better to be busy than to worry about the end of life as we know it, and all that." With the phone propped between her cheek and shoulder Summer opened the refrigerator and took out a container of yogurt. She longed for fried eggs and potatoes, but non-fat yogurt was her fate as long as she worked the runways of New York and Paris and Milan. Supermodel thin might be the ideal pushed at the masses, but she had to work hard to keep her big-boned frame just the right size for the designer fashions she modeled. Even though she maintained a disgustingly well-balanced diet and a professional athlete's workout regime, she was often told she had too many curves for the job. She fervently looked forward to the day when she'd be able to go home and gain ten pounds. She hated cities, she hated the business. She loved the money. "I'd love to come home for a while, Mama," she answered her mother. A pang of homesickness swept through her as she said it, but before she had a chance to make some maudlin comment that would reveal the extent of just how lonely she was to her worried Mama, the doorbell rang. "Now, who -- ?" Summer glanced with annoyance toward the door. Her apartment was an appropriately trendy TriBeCa loft; one big, multi-level room that took up the third floor of the renovated building. The apartment was wide, open, decorated in a sparsely dramatic style that really gave nothing away of Summer's personality. She didn't think of it as home, but as a place to sleep and host the occasional party. It was cold as a refrigerator in the winter. The one thing she did like about the building was the security it provided. It made no sense that someone would be at her door without first being announced by the doorman. She hesitated in the center of the room, staring worriedly at the door, when the chimes rang again. When her mother asked a concerned question, she answered. "There's someone at the door, Mama." Since her mother's response was an exasperated, "Well, answer it, girl. Don't be rude." Summer decided that she was perhaps being a bit too paranoid. She said good-bye to her mother, put her breakfast down on the slate topped coffee table, and went to the door. Three men in dark suits stood in the hallway. They were nice enough suits, but the conservative cut of each of them, along with the very staid shirts and ties, told Summer that they did not have their tailoring done in London or Milan. Brooks Brothers, tops, she thought, and said, "Yes?" The men looked serious, as well as conservative. The one in front flashed a badge. His movement caused Summer to take a nervous step backwards. The trio marched inside and closed the door behind her. "Wait a minute! You can't just — " "The United States is under martial law. We have the authority to enter any residence in the country," one of the men told her. She knew there were some emergency law enforcement measures that had been announced in the last six months, but she didn't think there had been any call to enforce them. "What's that got to do with me?" The one who had shown the badge — the FBI badge — said, "Summer Simms?" Her name was actually Susan Summer Simms, but all that alliteration had simply been too much for the insecure teenage girl who'd shortened her working name to Summer when she went into the modeling business. The world knew her as Summer, her family called her Susan, her mama called her girl, or sweetie. No one, including her brothers, had ever called her Sue or Susie. But she'd never heard anyone call her Summer Simms before, so she hesitated a moment before she said, "Yes?" "Will you come with us, please." Despite how the words were phrased there was nothing of request in the man's uncompromising delivery. His tone, their very presence, sent a shiver of dread through Summer. Her loft was big, but the large men with their grim sense of purpose made it seem smaller and darker and not at all the safe private haven she was used to. She did her best to put on her coolly neutral 'model' face as she asked, "May I see that badge again?" He gave her a chance to take a more thorough look. It certainly looked authentic. "You're from the FBI?" "I'm Special Agent Cardon," he answered. He gestured to his left. "Ricci from the Secret Service." To the right. "Dalmer from the National Security Agency. This is a multi-agency operation, Ms. Simms." Summer gulped. She didn't know whether to be alarmed or annoyed. There had to be some mistake. They must want some other Susan Summer Simms. "What's a multi-agency operation?" "I'm not at liberty to say." "Am I in some sort of trouble?" She'd never done anything illegal in her life. In fact, the only even vaguely morally questionable thing she could recall doing was posing for lingerie catalogs. That might be tasteless, but hardly against the law. Besides, the paychecks came in very handy. "Am I in trouble?" she repeated. "I'm not at liberty to say," he repeated. Summer put her hands stubbornly on her hips and looked him square in the eye. "Why aren't you at liberty to say?" The man smiled. She didn't know FBI agents were allowed to do that. "Because I don't know, Ms. Simms. What I do know is that we've been told that your presence is required for reasons of national security. I'm sorry I can't tell you any more." The man's going from stony-faced law enforcement officer to perplexed human in the blink of an eye was as disconcerting as the trio's arrival. It did have the effect of disarming Summer's growing belligerence. She went back to being worried and confused. "Where are you taking me?" Dalmer made a disgusted sound. "We don't have time to discuss this." With a purposeful stride he crossed the room and went up the short staircase that separated the bedroom area from the living room. A large pine wardrobe stood on either side of the queen size platform bed. Dalmer opened the door on the wardrobe where she kept what she thought of as her 'model' clothes; silly, overpriced things that were destined to be donated to teenage cousins after a few wears because it was necessary to replace silly, overpriced things every season to remain in fashion. The other wardrobe contained her 'real' clothes; jeans and T-shirts and warm sweaters. Dalmer pulled out a couple of short dresses and tossed them on the bed. Summer followed him up the stairs. "Just what are you doing with my clothes?" "I'm getting this show on the road," he said. "We've got a plane waiting." He looked back over his shoulder at her. "You better pack for a few days." "Pack? Where are you taking me?" He didn't reply. Summer looked down at the FBI agent standing in the middle of her living room. She didn't believe this was happening. Government agents didn't really walk into people's homes and take them away with only vague explanations about national security. Did they? Could they? Of course they could — martial law, special emergency powers, all that other scary stuff that she'd heard of but hadn't been exposed to since the Kariins came. The agents were here, and they were intent on doing it. No one had pulled out a gun or handcuffs yet. Summer thought they might at any moment. Dalmer found the overnight bag at the bottom of the closet and hauled it out. "Hey!" Summer shouted. "Get out of my stuff!" "Better grab her makeup bag out of the bathroom, Ricci," he called down to the third agent. He ignored her. "A model's going to want a lot of makeup." She only wore makeup to work. She looked good in makeup. It wasn't her fault that God had given her great bones, but people always tended to think that the only thing that mattered to her was her looks. She had long ago given up trying to explain to strangers that she read books, was a great cook, watched sitcoms, and listened to both Lyle Lovett and the Gipsy Kings as well as occasionally going to the opera. She certainly didn't try to explain anything about herself to these men who'd invaded her home. She hip-checked Mr. Dalmer aside. "I can do my own packing, thank you." He smiled. "Good girl." Summer rounded on him. "Good girl? No one with any sense that isn't my Mama has the right to call me a girl — good or otherwise." He blinked and took a step back. "Yes'm." She turned her back on him and grabbed things out of her closet. She was not going to explain to these Federal invaders that she was a hard working twenty-four year old woman who'd been supporting a large family since she was seventeen. Somebody is going to pay for this, she thought. That's why I have an expensive lawyer. "Can I call my lawyer?" she asked Cardon. "Sorry, Ms. Simms. I can't allow that." "That's what I thought you were going to say." She looked around in surprise when Dalmer added a short, gold lace dress to the pile of clothes on her bed. He lifted an eyebrow sardonically in response. "Girl — woman — never knows when she might be invited to a party. Is that a Valentino?" "Yes." Good Lord, a Federal thug who knew the names of fashion designers. Summer didn't think people who were taken away by a trio of Federal agents got much chance to go to parties, but she didn't bother to argue. She just did her best to find the most practical things she could in her most impractical closet and pack as quickly as possible — though she didn't know why she should be in a hurry to be dragged away to an unknown fate, even for the highest priority security reasons — with or without party clothes. The one thing she was stubbornly determined to show some spirit about when they left was that she wasn't going to be arrested and carry her own luggage.

Calling all heroines over 40!

PHAZE is accepting submissions for a literally and figuratively steamy erotic romance anthology.

You won't truly experience a hot flash until you get a hold of HIM!

TITLE: 39 and Holding...Him - Stories of Sex Over 40
EDITOR: Robin Slick
PUBLISHER: Phaze
TENTATIVE RELEASE DATE: August 14, 2007 (eBook), October, 2007 (print)
SUBMISSIONS DUE: June 1, 2007
STORY LENGTH: We're looking anywhere from 5K-15K.

Please visit the Phaze website for formatting guidelines (also to check out their forum and their PhazeChatters group).

http://www.Phaze.com

Visit Phaze Editor ROBIN SLICK
www.robinslick.com and www.inherownwrite.blogspot.com.

New Market for Traditional Regencies!

ImaJinn may publish a traditional Regency print program.

Interested authors should contact Linda Kichline of ImaJinn. Linda will start taking queries either in November or December at imajinneditors@bresnan.net with the first books set to be published in May or June of 2007.

 ---------------

JA Konrath blogs about publicity and how to get the word out.
http://jakonrath.blogspot.com/2006/08/do-something.html

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Tor editor Anna Genoese blogs about the industry at http://alg.livejournal.com/profile/

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

Here are two great links which explain advances and what it costs to publish a book:

http://sfwa.org/bulletin/articles/profit-motive.html
http://alg.livejournal.com/84032.html#cutid1

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

If you are looking for an agent, check here:
http://www.anotherealm.com/prededitors/peald.htm

 

 

The correct answer is 6.

You got it, didn't you? No? Take another look.

FINISHED FILES ARE THE RESULT OF YEARS OF SCIENTIFIC STUDY COMBINED WITH THE EXPERIENCE OF YEARS...

6!

Finding Three Fs is normal, four is quite rare. Anyone who counts all 6 "F's" on the first go is a genius.

Why is that? Boffins claim that the normal brain cannot process "OF."

http://www.aip.org/history/einstein/ae77.htm