Oh Joyous Happy Day!

I moved to California four years ago. That entire time, I have been without a book case. Not. One. Single. Book. Case.

None. Nada. Zilch-a-rino. Goose egg.

Yes it's true, loyal Bat Cave readers. Super Librarian has been keeping her entire book collection (save for my beloved Harlequin Historicals) in Rubber Maid totes. And let me tell you.....

It sucks.

Oh sure, I had things fairly well organized. Historical romances in a separate tote from all my Harlequins. Trade paperbacks in a separate tote, away from mass market. You get the idea. But none of my books were out in the open. They were all hidden away. A joy for The Boyfriend, because my addiction wasn't smacking him in the face every minute of every day - but a bummer for me, because I love the look, feel and smell of books.

Hell, it's my idea of decorating.

The Boyfriend, being Master Gift Giver Of The Universe, decided he wanted to make me supremely happy. His immediate choices were winning the lottery or discovering he was an Italian tycoon. Sadly though, he's Irish and Austrian. And if I've learned anything from Harlequin over the years it's that all tycoons are either Italian or Greek. Bugger.

So, The Boyfriend did the next best thing. He got me an early birthday present! Yep, that there up above is my brand new, glorious book case. I can fit books two-deep on the shelves. All of my hard covers and trade paperbacks are on it. Heck, even my modest erotica collection. It's all there. The man took me shopping on Friday, told me to pick out something I liked, and voila!

And while we were at the furniture store? We came across this awesomely cool table. Eventually, as soon as we buy one, our bedroom television will be sitting on it. But even better? He said I could put books on the bottom two shelves! Yippeee!

Do you know what this means? The Rubber Maid totes are empty. Well, almost empty. Damn, I have a crap-load of Harlequins. So they're still in a tote, as is my rather small stash of keepers. But everything else? Out in the open and loving the fresh air baby! Wahoo!

Not Again!

First Dirt gets cancelled, and now this!

I've mentioned it on the blog before that I am a hard core Law & Order junkie. I'll be honest though, I gave up SVU after a brief flirtation (too much whiny baggage) and the only reason I started watching Criminal Intent? The return of Mike Logan. Yeah, yeah, yeah - Mr. Big - blah, blah, blah. Mr. Walking Sex will always be Mike Logan to me. Now word has come down that he's leaving the show! Dagnabit!

So who are they replacing him with?

Jeff Goldblum!

Now, I'm not totally against the idea of Mr. Goldblum. The man does have one of the sexiest noses in Hollywood (Adrien Brody wins that race hands down) - but no more Mike Logan?! Again?! Damn. Damnity, damn, damn.

Oh well. Maybe The Boyfriend is right. Maybe this won't totally suck. He likes the Jeff Goldblum idea. But no more Mike Logan? I'm crying in my beer already.

Top Five: In Demand Romance

Longtime readers of this blog will remember that once upon a time I talked about "library stuff" a lot more. Wacky stories. Surreal moments. This blog was a bit of a dumping ground for the variety of frustrations I had back in my middle-management days. Then I got The Dream Job, went into administration, and my library stories dried up.

I'm going to be honest - I think the librarian thing makes me a little unique among the tiny corner of the blogosphere I inhabit, so I want to try to incorporate some of my job back into my hobby. Also, I think libraries and librarians tend to get lost in the mix when publishing, retail, and dollars are discussed. I'm not saying that publishers and authors shouldn't focus on retail, but let this serve as a reminder that libraries buy books to. Some of us buy a lot of books and have large budgets (although they're never large enough). Something to keep in mind.

So I thought it would be fun to start something I'm going to call Top Five. This will be a semi-regular feature where I will discuss five books currently generating demand, and a waiting list, among my library service population. To kick it off? Well of course I'm starting with romance. Like y'all have to ask! Here it goes:

Can't Take My Eyes Off Of You by Judith McNaught - This one is my fault. Totally. Like a moron I ordered copies of this one month before the original laydown date. McNaught doesn't "do" deadlines, naturally this one got pushed back, and the publication date keeps getting further and further away. Latest date I've seen? May 19, 2009. In the meantime, there sits a record on our catalog collecting patron holds. From now on McNaught doesn't get ordered until one week prior to the release date. She's burned me one too many times and I'm bitter. Very, very bitter.

The Hollow by Nora Roberts - Well duh. Second book in a trilogy. Nora. This isn't exactly rocket science.

Death Angel by Linda Howard - I've seen mixed reviews/reactions to Howard's last couple of books, but it hasn't hurt demand for this July 1 release. It's currently my third most requested romance title.

Lost Duke of Wyndham by Julia Quinn - I haven't been entirely pleased with Avon of late, and lord knows I've aired out my issues on this blog a time or two (or three) - but I'm positively giddy to see a historical romance (I don't care who published it!) generating so much interest among our patron population. A hibernating sub genre, maybe - but nowhere near dead.

Lover Enshrined by J.R. Ward - While romance bloggers hit the Ward crack pipe early and often from the very beginning, it took a little bit longer for my library patrons to jump on the bandwagon. It was around the third book in this series that I started to see holds accumulate, circulation numbers jump, and demand increase.

This small representation of our romance circulation probably doesn't shock any romance reader looking at this list. These are all bestselling authors. But I was intrigued by Ward, mainly because I think she's the perfect example of how "word of mouth" can elevate an author to bestseller status. Also of note, the demand for the latest Julia Quinn is higher than for the latest releases by Elizabeth Lowell, Johanna Lindsey and Catherine Coulter. You go girl!

In the "Wendy Is A Bit Surprised" category - demand for Not Another Bad Date by Rachel Gibson is currently sluggish. Up until this point she's always had steady demand, and solid numbers, so I'm wondering if people just don't realize this book is out and that's why they're not requesting it? Or maybe they're all buying it themselves, because she's currently on the NYT Bestsellers List. Although I gotta say, I think Avon needs to put her back on cartoon covers. Her cartoon cover books do very, very well for us.

Dear RWA

The conference in San Francisco is now only a month away and a list of authors signing at the "Readers For Life" Literacy Signing still hasn't been posted.

I need to work on my strategy. I need to formulate my plan of attack. I can't do that without a list of who is actually going to be there signing books.

What gives?

Back In The Saddle

I arrived home yesterday morning from our lovely weekend in San Diego, only to come to the realization that I live in Hell. As in, it's hotter than Hell here in southern California at the moment. It was a balmy 90+ degrees while we were in San Diego, which meant that up where I live? You know, where it's a more desert-like climate? Yeah, hot enough to melt the soles of your shoes. My poor, sad air conditioning yesterday. It tried valiantly. The Boyfriend and I spent yesterday living like moles. All blinds drawn, no lights on - basically we hung out in our own version of the Bat Cave.

So how was the trip? Fantastic, of course. Our hotel room was great, and that photo above is of the view we had. Not shabby huh? One of the super fun things we did was take a helicopter ride along the coast. I'm going to be honest, this was all The Boyfriend's doing, but it was a lot of fun and a great way to see the city. I snapped a ton of pictures, including this one of Petco Park (home of baseball's San Diego Padres). That building on the left? Yep, our hotel. Like how convenient is that?

You know what that meant, right? We ran into the Tigers coaching staff - a couple of times. 7AM Saturday morning, we're on our way to breakfast (yep, we're early risers) and who should be out in front of the hotel, half asleep and carrying two coffees? Jim Leyland. The manager of the Tigers. Standing right next to some golf clubs and third-base coach Gene Lamont. I said...nothing. Because I'm a dork. Oh, and the Tigers got their butts wupped on Friday night. So sleepy Leyland, who wants to make his tee time, hasn't had his coffee yet, and his team lost the night before. Yeah, just not bothering the man.

We ran into him again on Sunday, as we were checking out. Did I say anything to him this time? Of course not. Cuz, I'm a wuss. Also, I just knew I'd end up saying something incredibly stupid - and Leyland? The guy scares the crap out of me. Seriously. The Boyfriend chatted with him about golf, and I stood there dumbly, but did notice that his cigarette brand of choice is Marlboro Reds.

The stuff you learn when you simply observe.

We did not see any of the players. None. I suspect they were all sequestered in their rooms catching up on their sleep, or else at the ball park working out.

As for the game - we were there Saturday night. Petco Park is very nice. Lots of Tiger fans in attendance, and the Padre fans were really great. Man, they really get into the ball game, and every time the Padres' did something good, the place would erupt. They got very quiet though when Marcus Thames (love of my life) crushed (and I do mean crushed) a two-run homerun in the 7th inning. The Boyfriend and I agreed seeing that was worth the price of admission, cuz dang, he unloaded on that ball.

So it was a great, fun trip. And now it's back to Real Life and hopefully back to some reading. Sure enough, I didn't read a single word over the weekend. Let's see if I can remember how.

Paradise City

Folks, you really can put a price on heaven. It's called San Diego, California. And it's where I'm going to be this weekend. Like the good little baseball groupie that I am, The Boyfriend and I are hitting Petco Park to watch my sub par, but surging, Tigers take on the sub par San Diego Padres in glorious interleague play Saturday night.

(Yes, baseball purists, I'm one of the unwashed masses that happens to like interleague play. Heathen that I am.)

So The Boyfriend figured - "Hey, why not make a whole weekend of it?" And so we are. Nice hotel, good food, a ball game. What more could a girl possibly want?

This will actually mark the very first vacation The Boyfriend and I have ever taken together. In the 10 years we've been together. Yeah, we don't get out much. And we didn't have "disposable income" for a long time. And we're both homebodies. And lazy. Can't forget lazy....

(And for any blood relations reading this. We love you. We really do. But visiting family is not, nor will it ever be, a "vacation." Just saying)

So expect zero blogging over the weekend. And probably zero reading on my part. Oh, I'm going to take a book with me, but really - I'm just kidding myself.

My Worst Nightmare

Or in my case, "It's tragic. She only had 50 books left in her TBR pile." Oh who am I kidding? Like I'm ever going to be able to whittle down my book collection that much....

Howdy There Satan!

I love erotica. However, for the most part, I've been highly annoyed by the phenomena of "erotic romance." I find myself spending a lot of time enunciating, and talking very, very slowly to some romance readers about what erotica "isn't."

Erotica does not have to be "sexy" or "titillating." It also can be dark and disturbing. Newsflash: Sex doesn't have to be about love and lord knows two people don't have to be "in love" to engage in the activity. But the minute you throw out an erotica novel to a romance reader who doesn't get the Sunshine Happy Puppy Dog Rainbow feelings that a "regular" romance novel elicits? Then said book is pure evil. Evil! Just because it's labeled "erotic" doesn't mean it's necessarily got anything to do with "romance."

(Feel free to print that last line out and tape it up somewhere)

And that's where I think St. Martin's stumbles a bit in marketing Sleeping With the Devil. Splashed all over the back cover copy is the poorly kept secret that Vanessa Marlow is also romance author Cheryl Holt. So Holt fans are going to expect this to be like a romance, and non-Holt fans (that would be me) will go running, screaming in the other direction. If not for the review I read in Publisher's Weekly, and Katie(babs)'s discussion, there is no way in Hell I would have picked up this book. So strong is my dislike for the Holt oeuvre. Which would have been a shame, cuz dang, I really liked this one. I know, color me surprised.

The tag-line on this book is "A Novel of Sensual Obsession." OK romance readers, Obsession = Not Good. Sensual? A really bad choice of words on the part of St. Martin's. What we have here is a story about one woman's descent into madness thanks to the asshole, scumbag, jackass, psycho she finds herself involved with.

I have a theory that most women are totally useless until they're at least 25 (There are exceptions of course. Some women get it together sooner, while others continue to waste space well into their 30s). Meg White fits this theory to a T. She's 23, and is an underpaid dessert chef for a trendy Portland restaurant. She's got a nice, bland boyfriend whom she lives with. Then one night, while they're on vacation, they meet gazillion Jordan Blair. Before you can say "set-up" - Meg has dumped her boyfriend and is hooking up with Jordan. What happens for the rest of the novel is Meg slowly spiraling into the pit of domestic violence.

I'm going to be honest - the scariest aspects of this novel weren't the supposedly "kinky" sex, but Jordan slowly insinuating himself into Meg's life and controlling every aspect of it. Scary shit. And Meg, through her confusion, inexperience, and thinking, at first, that what they share is "passion," doesn't realize what an asshole this guy is until it's too late. By then Jordan is completely in control, emotionally and physically, with Meg literally being trapped, without resources of her own.

There were aspects of this novel that annoyed me - mostly dealing with Meg's prudishness and what I suspect the author wanted the reader to think of as "kinky." I'm probably showing my Gen-X roots here (and this is definitely going to be TMI), but oral doesn't shock me. Hell, does it shock anyone these days? And on an erotica scale, I will say that I was pleasantly surprised that this novel wasn't more graphic. What Jordan does to Meg isn't pleasant to read about by any stretch of the imagination, but Lord knows that Marlow really could have gone off the deep end in describing every horrible second in graphic detail. I don't want to suggest that this book is happy, happy sunshine, and that there aren't disturbing moments - just saying it could have been a lot worse.

So who would I recommend this book to? Honestly, I have no idea. I would very much describe it as an "erotic thriller" though. Essentially it's the story of a woman who loses her way and has to find her way out of an abusive relationship. It's heavy stuff, and certainly this is a darker read. I could have used more information on how/why Jordan became so fixated on Meg, and while I understand why the author left the ending, well, open-ended, part of me really wanted more closure after spending the previous 300 pages reading about the cycle of abuse Meg found herself in. But all in all, I was engrossed. And no one is more surprised by that fact than I am. Believe me.

Final Grade = B

Weekend Cliffs Notes

My Tigers (notice how they're back to being "my" Tigers) have won six in a row. Damn, I'm getting my hopes up. No good can come of this.

****

I did not talk to my father on this Father's Day. Not because I'm a horrible, awful daughter - but because he was at MIS today watching Dale Jr. win. Not sure how the old man feels about this. Probably just fine. It was Jr.'s daddy he had a tendency to loathe.

****

I was physically sick to my stomach after I heard about Tim Russert dying. I spent my college years living in Buffalo, NY. I would have stayed in Buffalo after graduation if there was even a glimmer of hope that I could have gotten a library job with a living wage - but alas, it wasn't in the cards. So when I heard about Russert's passing? I felt like a little piece of Buffalo, NY died. The only way I can describe it? I imagine it's what the people of New York City felt like after they heard that Jerry Orbach died. So desperately sad.

****

I'm probably going to have Sleeping With The Devil by Vanessa Marlow wrapped up by tomorrow. I'm liking it. Quite a bit. And this frightens me given my bumpy track record with the author's Cheryl Holt alter ego. Maybe I should open my front door just to make sure the Four Horsemen aren't standing there? More discussion on this is forthcoming. Promise.

Working The Mojo

2008 has turned out to be a very unproductive reading year so far. Because I'm a colossal dork organized, I've been keeping track of my reading for the last several years. 2008 isn't shaping up to be very pretty. As of today I've read a total of 29 books. Now let's compare that to years past:

2007 = 34
2006 = 38
2005 = 51

2005 was a bit of an anomaly, given that I finished up the year reading a grand total of 105 books. That's a personal best, and I haven't been able to duplicate it since. I would say my average is somewhere in the neighborhood of 75/year. Which really isn't that terrible. That is more than a book a week - which isn't anything to sneeze at.

I have no idea what my problem is this year. The irony is that my reading quality has gone way up! So far I've given 9 books an A rating this year. That's unheard of for me. In comparison, in 2007 I read only 3 books that I gave A status to. Seriously. And going down the line? 2008 has seen 9 A, 10 B, 9 C and 1 D. So yeah, it's not like I'm reading crap. I'm reading some pretty darn good books. If I was slogging through garbage I could understand my numbers being down - but damn, quality usually means I read faster, not slower!

However, I'm thinking I might have turned a corner. Hopefully. So far this month I've read 6 books. Yeah - 6. And it's only June 11th. I largely have Sybil to thank for this, since she declared it Harlequin Historical month over at TGTBTU. HH's are my "comfort reads." That means that as long as they're a C or higher I can usually plow through one in 1-2 days.

I don't know why I keep forgetting this. Every slump I've ever found myself in? I pull myself right out of it the minute I zip through an HH. That's usually all it takes for me. I just need to remember this from now on. Feeling a little blue? Feeling a bit crispy? Hit your HH stash Wendy and get reading!

Which has me wondering? Anyone out there have a surefire sub-genre or "line" that can pull them out of the reading doldrums? Or am I the lone freak in the corner? Sigh, again.

Dear America

You suck. You suck hard core. You'll happily lap up tripe like Dancing With The Stars and American "My Ears Are Bleeding" Idol - but Dirt gets canceled?! Incidentally, my favorite TV show since Nip/Tuck got so damn inconsistent.

Damn.

I'd console myself by going back to watching sports - but oh yeah....

My baseball team sucks.

I hate you. I hate your mother. I hate your dog. And in case you didn't know it? You suck.

The Training Wheels Are Off

I just finished Sweetheart by Chelsea Cain.

Wow.

Wowee, wow, wow.

Since this book doesn't come out until September, it seems sort of wrong to write a full-fledged review for it - mainly because I don't want to inadvertently slip a spoiler. But I will say this - for those of you who read Heartsick, if you thought Archie Sheridan was eff-ed up in that story? Oh man - the training wheels are off in Sweetheart. I can't tell you how many moments there were in this book where I was saying to myself, "OMG he did not just say/think/do that?!"

I loved Heartsick, but Sweetheart? Arguably the best suspense novel I have ever read. Ever. And keep in mind I was reading suspense when y'all were sneaking your mama's Kathleen Woodiwiss novels. Just saying.

Heartsick fans - preorder it now. Seriously. Preorder. It. Now.

Wow.

Wowee, wow, wow.

I Might Have A Problem

The last thing I had to do after the madness that was BEA is sort through the books I got for myself. After several runs to the post office last week, I finally can see my dining room table again. Because not only did I score books for myself, I found myself grabbing several titles for family and friends. For the record, Lil' Sis made out like a bandit, thanks to the plethora of YA titles that I came across. As a high school English teacher, she's always looking for books for her classroom, so whenever I stumble across YA authors/books at a conference, I do my best to score her some freebies. Hey, she's a teacher. Trust me. She deserves whatever freebies I can scrounge up for her.

I just counted my pirate's booty, and I have 31 books to add to the TBR. Thirty-one. Big hearty sigh. I think I might have a problem. I'm dangerously close to owning 1000 books. It might be time for another mass weeding project. ::adding to to-do list::

But enough of me wallowing in TBR guilt. On to the important stuff! Here are just a few of the titles I scored:

Celluloid Memories by Sandra Kitt, out now - Some of the biggest names on the Kimani roster were on hand for a signing in the Harlequin booth - Brenda Jackson, Donna Hill, Rochelle Alers, Gwynne Forster, along with Kitt. I was particularly excited to get my hands on Celluloid Memories because it's got a Hollywood storyline and takes place in L.A. Why don't more romances take place in L.A.?







Red by Jordan Summers, pub date 11/08 - Ahhh, a paranormal romance. Normally I probably wouldn't have touched this one with a ten-foot pole, but Summers is a columnist over at Romancing the Blog (just like me) and I wanted to meet her to say "Hi." And actually? Red looks kinda interesting. Heroine is in law enforcement, and meets a sheriff in a remote town who has secrets to hide. The tag line? What if Little Red Riding Hood and the Big Bad Wolf turned out to be the same person? So yeah, I'm going to give it a go.






Hooked on Murder by Betty Hechtman, out now - This was an impulse grab when I stumbled across the Mystery Writers' of America booth. This is the first in a cozy mystery series, and oh how I love me the cozies. This looks cute, and I'm always on the lookout for new authors. Heroine works for a bookstore, and becomes prime suspect number one when the leader of the local crochet group she belongs to turns up dead.







The Actress by Elizabeth Sims, out now - I actually had already ordered this title for work based on good reviews, and was intrigued by it then. Lucky for me the author was signing at the MWA booth as I happened by! Out of work actress desperate for a gig takes a job for a defense attorney who wants her to prepare his client for her day in court. Sounds like easy money right? Naturally mayhem ensues. Oh and this one also takes place in L.A.






Any Given Doomsday by Lori Handeland, pub date 11/08 - The first in a new urban fantasy series for Handeland, and the way the back cover copy reads - definitely urban fantasy (over romance) as the series is going to follow one lead character. Heroine learns that the end of the world is near, and she's determined to stop it. Mainly picked this up out of curiosity, but I've enjoyed Handeland's first person writing style in the past (yep, this is first person).







Cold Hearted by Beverly Barton, pub date 9/08 - Dang, Barton has written a ton of books and I've never read her. I picked up this shiny ARC because Kensington had a ton of them on display. I suspect this is part of a series, but the back cover copy promises me a female serial killer and a cat-and-mouse style plot. I'm game.

Besides The No Talent Thing

Why I Could Never Be A Writer, Reason #76: My memory is like a sieve when it comes to names and faces.

In fact I'm really horrible about it. I'm the sort of person that when you introduce yourself to me, I'm asking you 15 minutes later, "What's your name again?" Honestly, it's not that you aren't an interesting, wonderful, vibrant human being. I'm just a dumb ass. It's sad really. I can remember the vague plot outline of a romance I read and didn't like five years ago, but I can't remember the name of the person I met at a dinner party last night. Alcohol being involved has nothing to do with it. I'm this much of a dumb ass totally sober.

I would say the vast majority of authors I've met are really quite good at this. It's especially impressive in the Internet age. Because honestly, how much of "personal interaction" is Internet-only these days? Dang, I know I get a ton of e-mail - and I'm sure authors get even more! Names only, no faces. Imagine trying to keep all that straight!

When I go to conferences my name badge tends to read Wendy MyLastName, My Cool Job Title, My Place of Employment. It does not say "Super Librarian," and I really don't advertise it. Why? For one thing, I just don't think I'm all that and a bag of chips. Yes, I've been blogging a long time, but I wouldn't say the traffic on this site is off the charts. And that's just dandy by me. I didn't start blogging for the "traffic" and don't keep it up for the "traffic." I blog because I like it. Oh, and I'm a dork.

I'm also, bless my soul, a bit of a "fan." Even for authors I don't read, have never read, and might never read. Period. One such star-struck moment happened last year at RWA when I saw Judith McNaught. Judith McNaught people! I've never read one of her books. I'll be honest, the desire ain't there for me. But still - Judith McNaught! As The Boyfriend would say, "Cripes you're such a book dork." (Me, petulantly, "Yeah, well you're a book dork lover!")

Which brings us to the memorable moments at BEA. I stood in line to see Susan Wiggs, who was autographing ARCs of her upcoming contemporary, Just Breathe. Wiggs is one of my favorite historical writers, and many years ago (geez, at least 7 or 8 now), I corresponded with her via e-mail. A small book group I was hosting at the former job was reading "Michigan" books and I convinced them all to read The Hostage (which starts in Chicago, but the bulk of the story takes place on an island in Lake Superior). Wiggs sent me some giveaways, I sent her our discussion questions. End of story. So imagine my surprise when I see her at BEA and the first words out of her mouth are "OMGosh Wendy! How are you?" I haven't seen this woman, spoken to her, or even e-mailed her in years. And she remembered me. Sharp as a tack that one is.

And for those of you who care (yeah, I asked) she is interested in writing more historicals, but there's the small matter of finding the time. Her contemporaries are really keeping her busy. This came as no surprise to me, because I've seen her library circulation numbers steadily increase with each new Lakeshore Chronicles book. I'm thinking if her library stats are that good, her sales numbers must be quite healthy.

Then we get to moment where I was floored. Julia Quinn. I've never met Julia Quinn before. Never e-mailed her. Nothing. She was there signing copies of The Lost Duke of Wyndham. I get to the front of the line and say, "You can make it out to Wendy," to which she says, "Are you the Super Librarian?" Um, yeah. Then she asks if she can make the book out to "Wendy The Super Librarian." At this point I'm thinking she can make it out to Zulu The Wonder Dog because all that's going through my mind is "OMG - Julia Quinn knows who I am!"

Honestly, it takes so little blow my mind. I still get a giddy thrill knowing that Nora Roberts occasionally reads my blog. Hell, I was floored when I found out Margaret Moore gets a kick of my rantings about the Tigers. Who knew?

Which I guess goes to show that you never know who is reading your blog and not commenting. Hey we all do it. I read a slew of blogs that I never comment on. I think we all need to get in touch with our inner-lurker and give them a big old hug.

Which concludes my gushing fangirl post for today. Honestly, I promise not to make a habit out of it. The Bat Cave will return to our regularly scheduled program with the next blog post. Promise.

My Mom Thinks I'm Cool

Besides being a venerable book orgy, BEA is also a time to do a little celebrity watching. There's always a few there, promoting their latest children's book/biography/health/fitness title. Most of the celebrity book signings require a ticket and standing in long lines, and honestly, I had me some bigger fish to fry. That said, I did stand in line for one such signing.

When I heard that Victoria Rowell was going to be there, signing the newly released paperback edition of her memoir, The Women Who Raised Me, I knew I had to try and meet her. For those of you who have no clue who she is - it's Drucilla Winters from The Young And The Restless! At one time or another, all the women in my family have watched Y&R and we all adored Drucilla. She was the one character on the show that would say exactly what we were thinking. So having the chance to meet Victoria Rowell in person? I wasn't going to pass that up.

The meeting itself was fairly uneventful. She had a nice, long line of people waiting to see her, and she was very conscious of that fact. She really wanted to make sure everybody got through that line, got their book, and got to meet her. This was very nice of her, but it also meant there wasn't a whole lot of time for chit-chat. Probably a good thing because it gave me less time to say anything too incredibly stupid. Basically I told her that my mom, sisters and I adored her on Y&R and that we all remembered when she first came on the show. To that she let out a laugh, shook my hand and thanked me for supporting her writing and acting.

When I talked to my family this weekend, I told them all about meeting Drucilla:

Older Sis: That's cool.

Lil' Sis: I knew it! I knew she wasn't dead! That fall off the cliff didn't kill her! (fans of Y&R will totally understand where Lil' Sis is coming from).

Mom: OMG, OMG! I can't believe! OMG, I can't wait to tell Carol at work! Get out Wendy! You met Drucilla?!?!

My mom's reaction was the best, because you'd think I'd just met the Pope. Then I told her, "Yes, Mom. I met Drucilla. And I even got a copy of her book, autographed and personalized to you."

Mom: OMG, don't mail it! It might get lost in the mail! Save it for when your father and I visit in September.

Seriously, I love my Mom. I could have met Mary Higgins Clark, John Grisham and Stephen King and she probably would have said, "Oh, that's nice dear." I meet Drucilla Winters, and I'm a rock star. My 15 minutes of fame in my mother's eyes.

Fresh Book Goodness

The reason my blog has been dormant the last couple of days is because I spent the weekend at BookExpo America (BEA), which this year was back at the L.A. Convention Center. To say I was looking forward to this weekend would be a gross understatement. I've literally had it on my calender for well over a year.

First I have to give a shout-out to my home girl and fellow librarian Shayera. She gave me a very valuable BEA-first-timer suggestion - a spreadsheet is your best friend. I completely mapped out my plan of attack prior to the convention on a spreadsheet. So much easier, and handier, than flipping through the huge-ass program guide (that was about the size of Lonesome Dove - no joke). Also, she bought me tea! I know - like how sweet is that? A breakfast Earl Grey from Lupicia Fresh Tea. A lighter Earl Grey, and very tasty. Yummers!

I'm planning several posts about BEA, but I first wanted to share with everyone my biggest coup. BEA opened it's doors on Friday morning at 9AM. By 9:30AM I had the two books I was dying to get in my hot little hands.

Laura Levine was not there, but her publisher was, in full force. Kensington had one of the nicer booths, with oodles of books on display. Copies of Killing Bridezilla were up against a back wall and I innocently asked if they were available as giveaways - to which the nicest woman working there said, "Oh yes, please take one." Squeeee! I restrained myself and did not kiss her on the mouth.






The moment you've all been waiting for. Yes, I met Chelsea Cain. Yes, I have in my hot little hands, a signed ARC of Sweetheart (laydown date September 2). Let me say they had ARCs of this book all over the place at BEA. Seriously. Major promotional push on the part of St. Martin's. Anyway, meeting Chelsea Cain, I told her about how I book-talked Heartsick to a group of little old ladies. She found this story quite amusing and this is how she personalized the ARC to me:

To Wendy: Keep this away from little old ladies. Heart, Chelsea


And just to tease you all - OMG, the snippet that's on the back cover of the ARC is to die for. So I'm closing out this blog post with this deliciously evil teaser. Enjoy!

"I want to see you."

He could hear her breathing. Her long, light breaths only made his breath seem more strangled.

"Soon," she said.

"Then you're still in the area?" Archie asked, glancing up at Henry to make sure he heard.

She took another breath, exhaled. "I want to be close to you."

"Where are you?" Archie asked.

"Where are you?"

"Gretchen," Archie said. "Don't kill anyone else, okay?"....

The line went dead and Archie sat with the phone in his hand, only then realizing that he had been gripping it so tightly that his fingers ached.

Squeeeeee!