Zinnia Hope, author of multi-genres and erotic romances; also writing as J. Emberglass

A Freya's Bower Author. Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting Do you dare read my novels? Are your panties wet yet? If not, no worries because they soon will be.

Wednesday, November 29

I deleted the monkey cartoon song. It was getting on my nerves. Every time I'd pop into my blog I'd hear "I like you, I like you, I like you" like a damn parot but only in a song. (Some of you may've missed it.)

Conspiracy of Angels will go live on December 19th. I'm going to have a loop chat that coincides with that day, so anyone who would like to participate, you'll need to be a member of my Z Group. I thought about having it on my website as a live chat, but I like loop chats better. They give everyone a chance to participate no matter the time zone or part of the world.

More on this soon.

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Monday, November 20

I've been up at my folks in Ohio for the past few days. We plan on staying here until after Thanksgiving, so I'll be back here to post probably next Monday or so. Possibly sooner, we'll see.

The chickens are celebrating. It's nice for Z to be away so they can play. I only hope I have a farm to return to, LOL.

Wishing you all a Happy Thanksgiving!


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Sunday, November 12

Since I'm mulling over ideas for the first sequel to Honeysuckle and Wild Roses, I thought I'd celebrate the next one with a contest. The prize is a 12 ounce bag of Coffee Rio Original Roast Candy. (These things are addicting!)

The rules are easy. Send me a copy of your purchase receipt for Honeysuckle and Wild Roses and tell me which of Honey's sisters you loved or hated the most and why. Send your receipt and answer to me at zinniaUNDERSCOREhopeATsbcglobalDOTnet. The most interesting answer will win the bag of chewy coffee yummies!

Contest ends December 12, 2006.

Sold into marriage on the eve of her eighteenth birthday, Honey wishes the lover in her erotic dreams would rescue her. The goddess Freya intercedes, giving her two choices, but at a price. Honey must choose between two men: the Green Man and become his queen or marry Kaedric and watch as war breaks out between Mortals and Faeries.
Who will she choose? And what will happen to her children if Freya proves to be wrong?

The first in the Goddess Freya Series and the prequel to The Daughters of Trinity Series.

Rating: Spicy

Book Length: Novella

An excerpt is available if you go HERE.


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Thursday, November 9

A hearty mountain thank you goes out to Kate Willoughby for interviewing me on her blog. If you've found your way here from Kate's site, thank you for visiting. Take a look around and say hello.

For my devoted readers, you can go over to Kate's Blog and read the interview.


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Thursday, November 2

Agent: I'm declining this because there isn't enough sex in it.

Zinnia: Are you mad? Not enough sex?

Agent: Ms. Hope, you write beautifully, but the sex needs to be more explicit. (First time I've had someone tell me that!)

Zinnia: Uh...pardon moi for being candid, but what part of {insert graphic sentence from manuscript} didn't you understand? Judging by the stains on my manuscript, there is plenty of sex in my novel!

Agent: In today's erotic romance market there needs to be hotter than hot sex.

Zinnia: Oh, gee, so the hero banging the heroine until her eyes pop out and explode in mini orgasms isn't hot enough?

So, I slammed the phone down and took a walk in the backyard in hopes of spotting an unwary chicken. As I rounded the corner of the coop, the head rooster a.k.a. Big Cock, stepped out. He stared me down with his beady black eyes. I let out a war whoop and charged him.

He whipped out a tiny uzi and let it rip.

I dove for the overturned wheelbarrow resting nearby. Ping! Pa-ping! Pa-ping! The spray of teeny shots rang out over barnyard.

Slowly, I peeped over the top of the wheelbarrow. "You feathery bastard!" I yelled.

"Clake clis!" the rooster squawked and let loose with another barrage.

Off to the side of the coop, I noticed three hens watching the scene. Big Cock ran out of ammo, so while he fumbled with another full cartridge (It must suck that humans have opposing thumbs and chickens don't!), I dashed across the grass and snagged one of the hens, who let out a screech of fear.

I backed toward the house. "Pull the trigger and your deluxe roaster babe is dead. I'll wring her neck! Capiche?"

Big Cock watched me back across the yard. He threw his uzi down and squawked loudly, pacing back and forth in front of the coop, his feathers all a ruffle.

Making it to the back patio, I tossed the hen into the yard and slammed the door. She ran like mad, her tubby body waddling from side to side, neck stretched to the limit. She raced to Big Cock's side and raised holy hell, flogged him and sasshayed into the coop.

Hmm...I may just have to chickennap the rooster and mail him to NYC. The mailman will probably be pissed at me again, but it'll be worth it.


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