Five things I’ve learned in the last week

It’s been one week since Marine for Hire was released, and I’ve had seven days of unexpectedly high sales, toe-curlingly wonderful reviews, and important learning experiences. Not all of the lessons are related to writing, but they all make blood rush to tingly places in my body.

• After six years of practicing yoga, I attempted a headstand without propping myself against a wall and discovered I’m able to do it. I’m not able to do it without flashing the entire class as my shirt flips over my face.
• Despite knowing Amazon and Barnes & Noble update their sales stats only once an hour, I cannot stop myself from hitting “refresh” every three minutes to see if my ranking has changed. Incidentally, thank you to all of you who’ve kept this book selling steadily for the first week. I’ve never had a book rank this high in overall sales—in the low 40s among all paid books on Barnes & Noble and in the 130s on Amazon—and numbers continue to be strong after a week. It might have something to do with the 99-cent promo price, which is still going right now.

  

  Proof my doctor has a good sense of humor.

• Two weeks is a long time for a romantic comedy author to abstain from amorous congress. When my ladybits doctor suggested a minor medical procedure, I failed to read the fine print requiring two weeks of post-surgery celibacy. I had little success with wheedling calls to my doctor’s office inquiring how hard and fast the rule was (the humorless receptionist’s response: “Very, VERY hard. And very fast.”) The fact that this two week period coincided with my editor’s command to pack my next book with as much sex as possible made this the longest 20,160 minutes of my life.
• Reader reviews actually matter. A lot. Confession time: Before last week, I rarely hopped on Amazon or Barnes & Noble or Goodreads to review a book I’d purchased. I certainly read reviews, but I always figured adding my two-cents didn’t make much difference. In the last week, I’ve learned how crucial those reviews are to the algorithms that determine whether a book pops up on someone’s Amazon screen as a suggested read, or fades into oblivion like a vibrator with a cracked battery case. If you’ve read Marine for Hire by now, I’ll love you forever if go here to Amazon or here to Barnes & Noble to leave a short review.
• In the midst of snowpocalypse, seeing someone post about how many inches they got last night never stops being funny.

What lessons have you learned this week? Please share! 

And if you haven’t nabbed a copy of Marine for Hire during the 99-cent sale, do it now while I’m still cheap and easy. 

Oh, and I almost forgot—if you’re free tonight (that’s February 10) between 7-10 p.m. EST, stop by the Boys of Brazen Military Bash on Facebook. We’ll be giving away tons of prizes, plus authors Tessa Dare, Katee Robert, Diane Alberts and I will post hilarious videos of ourselves and our menfolk reading each other’s sex scenes. My gentleman friend may or may not appear shirtless in our video.

Join us Monday on Facebook for tons of great prizes, dirty talk, and hilarious videos.

I have a new book out today and holyfreakingcrap you guys, it's only 99-cents!

If you'd told me five years ago I'd write a military-themed romantic comedy that included a pair of infant twins, my childless-by-choice, non-militarily inclined brain would have short-circuited and I would have laughed 'til I fell on the floor.

Go here to nab it for just 99-cents!

If you'd told me that same book would generate the most positive pre-release buzz of any book I'd written to date, I would have piddled myself while I was down there on the floor. Then I would have tried to cover it up by pretending I rolled in spilled wine and you wouldn't have believed me because hello, of course I'd never be careless enough to spill wine, and then we would have forgotten what we were talking about entirely.

Which is the fact that HOLY CRAP, YOU GUYS, I HAVE A NEW BOOK OUT TODAY!

I know, I know...I haven't told you much about this one because my publisher asked me to avoid doing any promo until release day, which, in case I haven't made it clear OHMYGOD, TODAY IS RELEASE DAY!

The book is called Marine for Hire, and here's what it's about:

She thought she’d sworn off military men for good…

Sam Kercher is every inch a wickedly hot Marine. Tall. Sexy. Lethal. When his best friends call in a favor, Sam is forced to face an entirely new line of duty—playing nanny for their newly divorced sister and her squirming seven-month-old twin boys. If Sam can dissemble an M16 in his sleep, diaper duty should be a cakewalk…right?

Unfortunately, Operation Nanny isn’t quite that simple. Sheridan has sworn off overbearing military men, so Sam must protect her from her dirtbag ex without revealing just how much he has in common with her brothers. Or that he’s been ordered not to touch her. Ever. Problem is, Sheri’s one hell of a gorgeous woman, capable of making this hard-bodied Marine even harder. And Sam wants her bad.

Protect the girl. Care for the babies. Hide his identity. And keep his hands off. But even the most disciplined Marine has weaknesses...and Sheridan is one Sam might not be able to resist.

Wanna know the best part?

Well, the best part for me is that the book has been racking up all kinds of crazy-awesome reviews, particularly from readers who've never heard of me before because they weren't out there browsing for romantic comedy. But see, my publisher kinda tricked them with this one by not marketing it as comedy at all, but rather as a steamy military-themed romance (which it totally is) so readers are all, "hey, I like books with Marines and a few good rounds of bury-the-one-eyed-worm," and then they get into it and they're all, "woah, wait – this book can also make me snort wine out my nose?"

Which is totally my thing, right?

But back to what I was saying about the best part for you. See, my publisher made a strategic decision last week to offer Marine for Hire at an obscenely low price of just 99-cents for a very limited time starting on release day (did I mention that's TODAY?!!)

To nab the book for less than a buck, go here.

And  if you've managed to get your hands on one of the advance reading copies my publisher circulated these last few weeks, please, pretty please with red wine and salted caramel on top, stop by Amazon or Barnes & Noble or Goodreads and leave me a review.

In the meantime, how about we all roll around on the ground together in celebration? I'll bring the wine.

How squeezing my thighs, tightening my buns, and getting sweaty makes me a better author

Like everyone else on the planet, I made a new year's resolution that involved exercise. The fact that I made the resolution while devouring a platter of bacon-wrapped water chestnuts and guzzling my fourth glass of red wine means I'm a bit fuzzy on the details of my plan, but that hasn't stopped me from pursuing it.

Here's the thing I've learned about exercise in nearly 40 years on this planet: I suck at it.

Yoga on a standup paddleboard with my dog.
Three forms of fitness in one (plus it was book
research for Eat, Play, Lust.)

Don't get me wrong, I'm a fairly active person. I walk my dog every day, and I love hiking, biking, snowshoeing, and standup paddleboarding as forms of entertainment. I tend to lose interest when something seems like exercise instead of entertainment.

But with a wedding and a 40th birthday on the horizon this year, now seems like a good time to get more serious about fitness.

My current plan looks like something devised by a gym teacher with severe ADD.

Monday is the yoga class I've attended religiously for almost six years. It is the only thing in my exercise routine I am remotely good at.

Tuesday I tell myself I'll ride the stationary bike in my office before dinner. Then I get hungry and decide that if I'm extra-vigorous in chopping vegetables and tenderizing chicken, that counts as a form of physical fitness.

Wednesday is my Barre class, a female-focused mix of pilates, ballet, and weight lifting that's a helluva lot harder than it looks. It holds my attention because the instructor says things like, "Feel that deep in your booty!" or "Everyone grab your balls now!" and I get an extra ab workout by trying (and failing) to stifle my laughter.

Thursday is my Zumba class, which I love because I get to pretend I have mad-sexy stripper moves until I catch sight of myself in the mirror and realize I look like a drunk homeless person caught in a lawn sprinkler.

Bending my elbow counts as exercise, right?

Friday through Sunday I make an effort to drag my gentleman friend snowshoeing or hiking two or three times. We generally make it out of the house once, but I'm pretty sure we get fitness credit for finding alternate ways to work up a sweat.

That's my routine in a nutshell. Besides appealing to my short attention span, there's something about it that resonates with my author self.

The yoga forces me to slow the hell down, breathe, focus, and strengthen my core. It reminds me of those times I find myself anchored to my desk by writer's block and a deadline, convinced I can't possibly spare 30 minutes to walk the dog. The second I leash the beast and set foot outside, the fog in my head clears and I untangle the plot knot I spent all morning chewing at.

The flexibility I allow myself on Tuesdays reminds me that I function best when I don't try to force things. If I have energy to burn, I peddle. If I'm hungry, I make food. As an author, I've learned that if a scene isn't flowing, it's OK to turn my attention to a different scene, or to use my time editing previous chapters or doing research.

Wednesday's Barre class reminds me of the value of laughter, and that sometimes the simplest phrases and tiniest sprinklings of emotion can be the most powerful.

Thursday's Zumba class reminds me to be humble. After nearly a year of doing it, I am, without question, the least coordinated student in class. My classmates sometimes glance at me as though uncertain if they're witnessing a seizure that warrants medical attention. At times I become so baffled by the dance steps that I settle for jumping up and down and waving my arms to keep my heart-rate elevated. But I do it with a smile on my face, and I keep coming back because I know it's good for me to do something so far outside my comfort zone. It reminds me as an author to push myself beyond my perceived limits, and not to hold myself back because I'm afraid of looking like an idiot.

Sometimes, I get the best results by embracing my inner idiot.

Are you with me in setting goals related to writing or fitness this year? How's it going for you? Please share in the comments!

Oh, and if you'd like to learn from my moments of idiocy as a writer, it's not too late to sign up for the South Coast Writers' Conference in Gold Beach, Oregon February 14-15 where I'll be teaching two 90-minute workshops titled, "The top mistakes new authors make (and how to avoid them!)"

Here's the summary (and here's a link to learn more and to register):

The top mistakes new authors make (and how to avoid them!) by Tawna Fenske
It's easy to screw up when you’re getting started as an author. Just ask Tawna Fenske—she’s done it plenty! She's also learned a few things from years of judging contests, critiquing manuscripts, building a career in marketing & PR, and stumbling a few times in her own journey as a published author of romantic comedy. From writing craft to social media, learn the top landmines for newbie writers—and how you can leap gracefully over them.

What's in store for 2014? Holy @#$%, a lot of stuff!

Conversation in my kitchen this morning:

GENTLEMAN FRIEND: So I emailed the office last night about how I wasn't feeling great and might work from home for a couple days.

ME: Yeah?

HIM: Apparently there's a really bad flu going around. It starts with fatigue and sore throat and a fever.

ME: So . . . pretty much all the symptoms you have?

HIM: Uh-huh.

ME: Based on the fact that we are a newly-engaged couple with mistletoe hanging from the ceiling in every room of the house and a strong lock on the bedroom door, is there any chance I won't be getting the flu?

That's a rhetorical question. I think odds are good I'll be kicking off 2014 with my face over a pot of steaming mentholated water, which is probably not the worst way I've rung in the new year.

No matter, my spirits are pretty high going into 2014. Here are a few reasons why:

• I'm starting the new year with a brand new website. The fabulous LuLish Design created it for me, and I'm so in love with it I want to drag it under the pool table and give it a hand job. It has a lot of cool features like an amazing new design, cool pics taken by my gentleman friend, an Author FAQ, a Personal FAQ, a fun new About Me page, an amazing roundup of all my books, and much more. Go check it out at tawnafenske.com
  

  

  Go visit my new website at tawnafenske.com

• In 2014, Entangled Publishing will launch my new series under the Brazen imprint. You may recall, Entangled is the publisher that released my short novella Eat, Play, Lust in August (which is still for sale here for just 99-cents!) All three of my new books slated for publication with the Brazen line in 2014 will feature my usual brand of quirky romantic comedy, but with steamier, more plentiful sex scenes and a word count that's closer to 55,000 (as opposed to my Sourcebooks rom-coms weighing in around 90,000 words). Each story is centered around one sibling in a staunchly military family (Sheridan Patton-Price, MacArthur Patton, and Grant Patton). Watch here for news on the first book in the series, Marine for Hire, which will be released in the first part of 2014.
• In May 2014, Sourcebooks will release the third romantic comedy in my three-book deal, Frisky Business. It's already up for pre-order at Barnes & Noble and Amazon, and I'm madly in love with the cover they've created for me. Here's a quickie blurb about it:

  

  She's looking for something bigger than his bank account...

  
  

  Marley Cartman is fed up with arrogant rich guys who treat her like garbage, so she vows to only date men with modest paychecks and a little dirt under their nails. Her new boss, William Barclay, is exactly the kind of man she's trying to avoid: an eccentric millionaire with duct-taped shoes and an unexplained vendetta against her. But as Will and Marley butt heads over grumpy badgers and phallic artifacts, they discover that sometimes the opposite of what you want is exactly what you need.

• Apart from my author life, 2014 is shaping up to be a pretty big year for me personally as well. I'm scheduled to teach two sessions at the South Beach Writers' Conference in Gold Beach, Oregon February 14-15. Here's the skinny on the workshop I'm teaching for both sessions:

The top mistakes new authors make (and how to avoid them!) It's easy to screw up when you’re getting started as an author. Just ask Tawna Fenske—she’s done it plenty! She's also learned a few things from years of judging contests, critiquing manuscripts, building a career in marketing & PR, and stumbling a few times in her own journey as a published author of romantic comedy. From writing craft to social media, learn the top landmines for newbie writers—and how you can leap gracefully over them.

• What else is happening in 2014? I'm pretty sure there's something more, but I can't quite put a finger on it. (Cue light bulb popping on above romantic comedy author's head as "put a finger on it" triggers thoughts of gentleman friend).

  

  The site of our Sept. 2014 wedding.
  We'll be wearing a lot less clothing.

  Yep, that's right – my gentleman friend and I will be getting hitched September 6. Don't expect a lot of gushy posts about color schemes and crudités. My maid of honor is my eight-year-old stepdaughter-to-be, and she and I have both declared we will not, under any circumstances, wear shoes for the wedding. Or the reception. Or pretty much anytime in the weeks leading up to the ceremony. My dog will be the ring bearer. There will be lots and lots of wine involved. Lots.

I think that about sums it up for my plans in 2014. What does the coming year hold for you? Please share!

I'm going to go work on getting the flu.

When you sleep with strangers, they give you cool stuff

It's been more than two years since I fell into bed with someone I'd never met, but I remember the moment like it was yesterday.

I might feel embarrassed I were the only one still clinging to the memories, but I know she still thinks about it, too.

Part of me wishes this were as torrid as it sounds, but alas, that's not the case. I'm referring to July 2011 when I shared not only a hotel room, but a hotel bed with author Jeffe Kennedy as a way to cut expenses during the national conference for Romance Writers of America. Though we met in person mere minutes before crawling under the covers together, we've been online writing pals for years.

I enjoyed a romantic carriage ride with Jeffe
(center) following our first night in bed together.

And since pals like to promote each other's work, allow me to tell you Jeffe's books are fabulous. If you like your erotica with generous helpings of fantasy and BDSM, go pick up one of her books right now.

Since Jeffe is such a generous and thoughtful bedmate, she's giving it to you good all week long. Right now, she's doing a promotion centered around the Twelve Days of Christmas, offering cool giveaways for each day of the contest.

Because it sounded deliciously naughty, I asked to have my turn on the day the nine ladies are dancing. Head on over to Jeffe's blog today and find out how you can win a signed copy of my second romantic comedy, Believe it or Not.

Um, I'm signing it, not Jeffe. Though I'm sure she'd sign it too, if you wanted.

Be sure to check  her blog throughout the promotion, since she's giving away tons of other great prizes, including a grand prize partridge in a pear tree pendant worth $100. 

Tell her I said she's great in bed, OK?

Why you can't take a romantic comedy author anywhere (including a bookstore)

The good folks at Paulina Springs Bookstore invited me to participate in an event called Indies First in which respected authors spend November 30 promoting their favorite titles by playing bookseller for the day at independent bookstores nationwide.

I looked around for a respected author, and then tried to remember the difference between respected and respectable and disreputable, and then decided they all meant the same thing.

"Count me in," I said, and gave them a list of a dozen books and authors to have on-hand for me to peddle.

I arrived at the bookstore just before noon and posed for photos like a respectable author.

Hooray for independent bookstores!

Then I got to work setting up my display of books. I was excited to talk about my favorite titles, and promote all aspects of romance, comedy, and everything in between.

Doing some well-deserved pimping for my critique partner, Linda Grimes, and her awesome book In a Fix and the orangutan-centric follow-up, Quick Fix.

Right off the bat, I noticed two important things. The first is the bane of existence for all busty women forced to wear sticky name-tags. Within five minutes, the tag curls up like a dead bug and refuses to stay put no matter how many attempts you make at smoothing it out so you look like a respectable person.

Damn you, sticky name-tag and your curly edges.

And then you realize you don't look very respectable repeatedly rubbing your hand over your boob in an effort to straighten the name-tag.

The second thing I noticed is that my station was smack-dab in the middle of the children's section.

 Coupled with the aforementioned name-tag issue, this meant I found myself spending the better part of an afternoon groping my boob while surrounded by kids and their understandably leery parents.

As if it weren't weird enough to put an author of risque romantic comedy in the kids' aisle, my vantage-point staring straight out from that section gave me a clear view of the self-help shelves.

Right in my line of sight for the entire afternoon was this title:

Is it just me, or does that title just leap out at you?

So now we have an oversexed romantic comedy author staring out from the children's aisle at a book about learning to want more sex. Does anyone see a problem here?

Naturally, my mind began to wander...

I can't be the only one who thinks this sounds deliciously filthy.

Is it just me, or does this look like the setup for a deranged animal orgy?

I'm not saying I do or don't own an adult video with one of these titles. Okay, maybe that is what I'm saying. Suffice it to say, it was alarming to glance up and see these titles shouting at me like urgent commands.

Is it okay to buy touch and feel stroller cards if I don't own an infant?

In the end, the event was fairly successful. As is often the case when I do author events in bookstores, I probably spent more acquiring new books than I did selling my own. Isn't that what it's all about?

Well, that and patting the bunny.

Giving away my recipe for salmon chowder, a signed copy of Believe it or Not, and the secret behind page 99

If you've ever acquired a copy of Believe it or Not from me – either in a contest, at a book signing, or by breaking into my home and stealing one – there was a bookmark stuffed inside.

You probably didn't notice it, nor did you make note of what page it was on, but I did.

That's because every copy of my sophomore romantic comedy that passes through my hands gets a little extra love on page 99. It's the start of a scene that always makes me smile because of the story behind it.

Back in the spring of 2011, there was a lot happening in my life. I was preparing for the release of my first romantic comedy, Making Waves, while doing editorial revisions on the book slated for release six months after that,  Believe it or Not.

I was also spending time with a handsome, kind, smart, funny gentleman with whom I'd been acquainted for many years, but had never known particularly well until I asked him to mentor me through a difficult divorce.

While the divorce mentoring was helpful, I had an ulterior motive in spending time with him. I sincerely wished to jump his bones, so I hatched an evil plan to seduce him using the best tools in my arsenal: food, alcohol, and cleavage.

I invited him to join me on a beer-related outing for my day job, followed by dinner at my house. I wore a low-cut sweater and prepared my famous salmon chowder. As we sat on the sofa chatting afterward, I edged closer and closer, eventually tucking my bare feet under his leg under the pretense of warming them. With the touch barrier broken, he offered up a foot massage that evolved into a calf massage that evolved into . . . well, I'll stop the story there to preserve some semblance of mystery.

Simmering salmon chowder with aphrodisiac powers.

Of course, if I wanted to preserve the mystery, I wouldn't have used that experience as the basis for a romantic scene in Believe it or Not that begins on page 99. When my editor asked me to add a couple more sexy scenes to the book just a few weeks after that fateful evening on the couch, I decided to pay homage by having Drew and Violet engage in a little sofa leg massage flirtation of their own. I won't claim the scene is a blow-by-blow (ha!) account of what happened that evening, but things seem to have worked out nicely for all of us in the 32 months since then. I'm not sure when Drew and Violet's wedding will be, but ours is next September.

While I'd like to extoll the seductive powers of my legs and cleavage, I'm pretty sure the salmon chowder deserves most of the credit. In case you need to seduce someone (or, yanno, just put a nutritious and tasty meal on the table) here's my recipe:

Tawna's Salmon Chowder

• 4-5 slices of bacon
• 1 small onion, diced
• 4 cups chicken broth
• 1 cup milk (I use skim)
• 1 small can evaporated milk
• 2 cups frozen corn
• 4-5 small red potatoes, cubed
• 2-3 carrots, chopped
• 2 salmon filets 
• A small amount of milk for poaching salmon (maybe 1/3 cup)
• Dill to taste (I use tons)
• Salt and pepper to taste

Fry the bacon in your soup pot until crisp. Remove it and let it cool before crumbling it and setting it aside. In the bacon grease remaining in your soup pot, saute the onions until soft and golden brown. Add the carrots and saute a few more minutes to blend flavors. Add corn, potatoes, and chicken broth and simmer for about 30 minutes.

While the soup is simmering, sprinkle your salmon filets with salt and pepper and put them in a pot with a little milk. If you have some scraps of onion and carrot left over, sprinkle them on the salmon as well to lend a little flavor. Cover tightly with a lid and poach for a 3-5 minutes. Remove from heat and let sit for 5 more minutes before removing from the liquid, tossing the carrots/onion, and flaking the salmon with a fork. Set aside.

Dinner is served!

Return to your soup pot and give it a good stir. Add both the evaporated milk and the regular milk and bring to a simmer for 10-15 minutes more. Slowly add the salmon and bacon and simmer for 10-15 minutes more. Season with salt, pepper, and dill and serve hot with sourdough bread and a good white wine or rosé.

***

Since I'm in a giving sorta mood with the story and the recipe and all, how about I give away a signed copy of f Believe it or Not , too?

Leave a comment describing your best seduction meal. Recipes or links are helpful, but just a description of the dish will suffice. I'll pick a winner next Monday.

Cheers!

UPDATE: I've had several readers report they're unable to leave comments when they attempt it from a mobile device. I'm working to figure out a long-term solution, but in the meantime, you should be able to comment from a desktop computer or by selecting the web version of my blog (not the mobile version) from your mobile device. 

Why I'm grateful for water damage and a dead television

Saturday afternoon I was holed up in my downstairs office  browsing eBay   giggling at damnyouautocorrect   surfing porn  working tirelessly on my latest manuscript when I heard a loud crash.

"No! Oh no, no, NO!"

My gentleman friend's son's scream echoed somewhere above. Or was it outside? I jumped up, frantic. The dog skittered under my desk, and I considered joining her when I heard my gentleman friend yell.

"Get back! Get back now, go!"

My spleen lodged in my throat, and my skin went icy. I scrambled toward the door, my gut twisting in anguish. I knew what had happened. I knew it. One of our five cats, hit by a car in front of our house. It was bound to happen.

I ran for the stairs, shutting the dog in the office as I raced toward the sound of yelling. The horrified note in my gentleman friend's voice told me it was bad – really bad – probably one of our favorite cats. Maestro? Matt the Cat? Blue Cat?

I hit the landing below the second flight of stairs and collided with a 6'1" wall of frantic male. My gentleman friend pushed past me and ran for the kitchen.

I followed, swallowing hard. "Which cat? How bad? Is the vet still open?"

He  grabbed a giant mixing bowl and turned toward the sink. Why would he need a mixing bowl? Where was the cat? I looked around, tallying felines. There was Blue Cat in the dog bed. Was Maggie under the fern?

"The aquarium," my gentleman friend said, jolting me from my cat count. "The TV rolled off the bed and smashed the aquarium."

I blinked at him, regrouping. "Aquarium?"

"I set the TV on the bed to clean it and turned my back for a second and now there's water and glass everywhere. Kids, stay back."

Relief washed over me, flushing out the adrenaline that had flooded my system. I turned and took the stairs two at a time, skidding breathless into the room where the 10-gallon fish tank gushed water over a TV that lay sprawled on its back like a dead tortoise.

I smiled. It was true then. The cats were OK.

I sank to my knees and began hunting for fish. My gentleman friend dropped to the floor beside me, mixing bowl in hand. Together, we located the flopping fish and got them safely into water.

"Ohmygod," I breathed. "The cats are fine."

"What?" he asked distractedly. "Never mind. We need towels."

He ran for the linen closet and returned, dropping a bundle of towels on the bed behind us. Together, we mopped furiously at the water soaking the rug.

"Who do we know with a ShopVac?" I asked.

My gentleman friend was on his feet in an instant, dialing a friend as he ran outside to hunt for a neighbor who might have the desired appliance. He returned moments later, and we set to work slopping through the wetness, sucking and pressing and maneuvering around on all fours.

I giggled.

My gentleman friend shot me a worried look. "Are you OK?"

"If you wanted me wet and on my knees, all you had to do was ask."

He shook his head, probably assuming I was in shock. "I hope the carpet isn't ruined. I hope it's not leaking through the ceiling below. I hope – "

"All the cats are OK," I breathed, smiling wider. "I thought someone was dead, but they're all fine. All this – the carpet, the drywall, the aquarium, the TV – it's so much better than I thought it was going to be."

He blinked at me, then surveyed the overturned furniture, the sodden carpet, the shards of glass littering the floor. He turned back to me. "Not much."

"Still."

He smiled. Then we both got back to work.

An hour later, we were both damp and bedraggled and exhausted as we knelt there on the floor catching our breath.

"It definitely wasn't the most fun we've had ending up like this," I said. "But it could be worse."

"At least now we have an excuse to take off these clothes."

"We need an excuse?"

The whole experience felt like such a metaphor for the sort of perspective I've found myself needing again and again and again along my writing journey. So often, a setback can feel like the worst thing in the world.

Ohmygod my editor trashed my last book!

Yeah? How fortunate to have an editor.

Dammit, I can't find an agent to represent me!

No? What a gift to be able to write a whole book.

I'm stuck in this plot hole and can't get out!

What an enormous blessing to have the education required to string sentences together on a computer that sits in a warm home with food in the refrigerator and loved ones in adjacent rooms.

I'm not saying the setbacks don't suck. I'm not saying I haven't freaked out a million times over situations that seemed abysmal in the moment. But most of the time, things that seem lousy feel a whole lot less lousy when compared with the lousiness that could have been.

Have you ever had an experience like that? Please share!

I'll be on my knees doing a bit of blowing. I wonder if this hair dryer has a higher setting?

Thanks for the photos of your panties

I'm often asked in interviews what sets me apart from other  authors. I usually fumble for an answer, not wanting to sound cocky or insane.

But thanks to Coliloquy, I have the perfect response:

I'm the only author whose readers cheerfully post photos of their underwear when asked.

While I'll admit that wasn't on my list of life goals when I set out to become an author, I'm proud of the accomplishment.

The "cutest panty thief" contest was part of the release celebration for The Great Panty Caper (my new choose-your-own-adventure novella with Coliloquy). You can buy the novella here, and read about the contest here.

You can't actually enter the contest, since it's over. But I have the great pleasure of announcing the winners right here, right now. Cue the drumroll?

Our first place winner of the $50 Victoria's Secret gift card is Pickle, submitted by @msjennishaw. "Not only did Pickle steak my panties," she noted, "but he hoarded them in his vacation home."

Congrats to Pickle and @msjennieshaw, winners of the $50 Victoria's Secret gift card.

Of course, there were a couple other entries that deserve an honorable mention. In the completely made-up categories of "youngest, cutest panty thief" and "scariest panty thief," we have P-man sumbmitted by @lisamrutherford and Grimlock submitted by @cosmochicklitan.

I'll leave it to you to figure out who's who.

P-man, six months old and already a ladies' man.

Oi, Grimlock....those are mine!

Huge congrats to all the winners, and thanks so much to everyone who entered the contest. I'd also like to thank the amazing Panty Caper street team for all your amazing efforts with blogging, tweeting, Facebooking, and tattooing my book cover on your butt cheeks. Thanks, guys.

For those who haven't snagged a copy of The Great Panty Caper yet, you can buy it here for just $1.99. If you want to score a killer, limited-time-only deal on the whole Getting Dumped bundle (which includes Getting Dumped episodes 1 and 2, plus The Great Panty Caper) for just $8.99, go here.

Now go forth and fling your panties in celebration.

I'm having a party on Tuesday and you're all invited!

Saturday night, I sat down to draft a list of potential wedding guests. I took a slug of wine and tapped my pen against my teeth.

That's what I was aiming for, anyway. I actually stuck the pen up my nostril by accident, then tried to pretend I meant to do it.

"Do you think we should just invite all my blog followers, book readers, Facebook friends, and Twitter pals?" I asked my gentleman friend.

He eyed my pen suspiciously, then made a wise observation. "There might not be enough wine to go around."

I shuddered in horror and set the list aside for another time.

While we're still searching for a wedding venue capable of holding all of you and your respective parole officers, I can invite you to another party. The lovely folks at Coliloquy have arranged a Twitter party to celebrate the release of The Great Panty Caper. 

The party will take place from 10-11 p.m. EST (that's 7-8 p.m. for those of us on the Pacific coast) on Tuesday, October 15. We'll be chatting about everything from books to underwear to why the KoolAid packet says you shouldn't mix it in a metal container.

The Coliloquy crew will be giving away tons of cool prizes, so you won't want to miss that. (Hint: You'll have a better shot at correctly answering some of the trivia questions if you've already read The Great Panty Caper. You can find it here for Kindle, or here for Nook, or here for the iBookstore, or here for Kobo, or here for Android. It’s only $1.99, which is less than a three-pack of Trojan Magnum condoms and almost as fun).

Questions about the Twitter party? Post 'em here, tweet me at @tawnafenske, or post to hashtag #pantycaper. I hope to see you all there!

Who's bringing the wine?