Every day is Valentine’s Day

I know I’m supposed to be the romance writer, but underneath his shy/quiet exterior, my husband is even more romantic. We’ve never been big on celebrating Valentine’s Day — for some reason his bosses always seem to manage to schedule him to be on a trip or having to work overtime on Valentine’s Day. But it’s never really mattered to me. Because here in the Braemel household, life with Gizmo Guy means every day is Valentine’s Day. To prove it, for the next few days I’m going to repost a couple of letters he’s sent me and given me permission to share on my blog over the years.  If you’ve been following me for a while, you may have seen them before, but they’re worth a repeat.

The first note he sent me was “I Slept with Leah Braemel” back on August 26, 2010. This one came out of the blue for our anniversary. I had no idea he was writing it or what it was when I opened his email, other than a murmured, “I thought you might like to put this up on your blog.”  He got that right!

I Slept with Leah Braemel

By Mr. “Gizmo Guy” Braemel

My own personal hero and happy-ever-after providerI have for more years then either of us would like to admit, shared a bed with the famous Leah Braemel. And a house, two kids, and at times various animals – a budgie, a cockatiel, a wonderful lab-mix dog, and the current master of the house a tuxedo-cat named Spike. (Update: Spike has since crossed the Rainbow Bridge, but we’ve added Seamus, the shih tzu, and Turtle the cat to the household.)
Yes I am Mr. Braemel, or Gizmo Guy as I get referred to in these pages. I am Husband, sometime critique partner, research assistant (one of the perks), sounding wall, and firm supporter of Ms. Braemel.

The worlds and the words Ms. Braemel create are glorious, but perhaps I am coming from a biased view. I have watched her mature through the years, starting as a twenty-something young girl scribbling her words in small notebooks, hiding them from curious eyes.

Then she realized the characters in her mind demanded to be let loose, their stories had to be told. She was amazed when people actually read her early fan-fiction works – and demanded more.

You see I am a product of the Canadian Education system – although a graduate of community college in a technical field I had not read, for purely entertainment purposes, a novel until my mid twenties. I was a television junkie – the boob-tube was on twenty-three hours a day in the house I grew up in. Meals were consumed in front of it. Conversations took place over its din. My mother even managed to time her cat-naps around the commercials – waking herself up just in time to turn the sound back up.

So I was confused when Leah would disappear into another room for hours at a time ‘reading’. Why read when they will act it out in front of you – and you don’t have to think… A typical male I imagined I had done something wrong – that she was mad at me. I just didn’t understand.

Then one day I was in a used book store with Leah – did you know that some of the movies I watch on my glorious TV were books originally. Who Knew! Tom Clancy actually wrote ‘Red October’ as a book before it was made into a ‘blockbuster’ film.

And you know what – the book was better.  

Well it was all downhill from there – Clancy, Steven Coonts, Robert Ludlum’s The Bourne Series, along with the wildly popular Grisham novels amongst others. Piles of paperbacks grew in the bathroom (still my preferred place to read). I was hooked. This woman was a terrible influence on me. [Leah here–sorry, I can’t stop my editor’s red pen from breaking in — he actually started reading years before this, but he’s right, he was influenced by finding out a show was actually a book. The show and the book was James Clavell’s Shogun. Then he started bringing home books–even more than I did!]

But the people that wrote those stories, they were not mere mortals. They must be gods sent from the heavens to entertain us. Surely one of us could not ascend to such heights.

Then the magic happened. Leah scrunched up enough courage, and egged on by some close friends, to expose herself as openly as anyone can. She put herself out on display. She took one of those worlds that she created, and sent it off to one of those dreaded people – the Editor.

The rest is shall I say history. Three books out there being received well beyond her dreams. Accolades coming in from all sides.

I was sitting in my chair the other day, watching golf on my glorious TV (yeah I’m still hooked) when I noticed Leah smiling to herself. I inquired to find she was following two people talking on Twitter as they read her latest novel. It was like watching a little girl at Christmas. In the famous words of Sally Fields at the Oscars ‘They like me – they really like me’.

Leah – get used to it – you have talent. You have stories to tell. You have – dare I say it – fans!

I won’t say that living with a writer is always fun – many a night I have rolled over only to find the other side of the bed vacant – “the characters started talking to me… I had to let them work it out…” I think there is a very fine line sometimes between the creative and the insane…

But her influence has once again hit me. I put pen to paper (actually finger to keyboard) myself and wrote a comedic attempt at a very short story about a modern plight – the failure to launch syndrome. This was based mostly on our own home life – and the fact the two very grown children still lived in our house well past the norm. Sitting again in front of the TV with my laptop in my lap I read it over for the hundredth time. Finally I screwed up the courage and sent it in an email to Leah – who was sitting all of five feet away from me.

“What’s this,” Leah asked.

“Um, something I wrote…” I mumbled.

Between the tears and the laughter she gave me something that I will never forget – encouragement. “She liked it – she really liked it.” This woman has indeed been a terrible influence on me.

Leah – the twelve hour days – the constant research and work – the edits – the promotion – the endless novels, good and bad you read – are worth it. You have arrived. Your words and worlds are out there for all to see.

Congratulations – and know this – you are loved – and not just by your fans….

I still tear up when I read that. For those who might wonder about Gizmo’s stories, he’s written not only that novella, but two full length thrillers a la Tom Clancy — the second one of which had a plot twist that had my jaw dropping. Which made me wish he’d consider putting his work “out there” too because he has a flair for telling a story. But after watching some of the behind-the-scenes stuff I’ve gone through, he’s content with the status quo. Sort of like I was for almost fifty years.

For all those who sneer at romances and claim they set women up for unrealistic expectations, Gizmo Guy is proof that there are real heroes out there, and Happy Ever Afters can be found. After all, we’ve been married almost 37 years.

I’ll share another one of his love letters tomorrow…because as I said, Valentine’s Day in the Braemel household isn’t just on February 14th. It’s every day.

Love you, GG! You’ll always be my valentine.

 

 

A real love letter…

While I was running around from event to event in Kansas City, Gizmo Guy was left to fend for himself. Oh, he’d come with me to make sure I stayed sane–and properly fed. On Saturday when I rushed into the room to change outfits and lay down on the bed for a quick nap, he asked if I could read a Word document on my iPad. Once I assured him I could, he emailed a document entitled “Blog Fodder.”  He is often in the habit of sending me dirty jokes or funny cat pictures to make me laugh, so I wasn’t sure what to expect, but when I opened the document, I started to cry.  Don’t let anyone ever tell you guys can’t write love letters. I may have added a few parentheses, but yes, these are all his own words…

For Leah:

The 35th wedding anniversary falls between the silver (25 years) and gold (50 years). Coral is the traditional anniversary gift (yeah right – try walking down to your local jewellers and ask to see the coral selection) although jade appears to have replaced it in the modern era (might be able to handle that.)

35 years have gone by in the blink of an eye. A baby boy, now in his late twenties, six foot tall and working as a certified electrician. A 2nd boy now towering over both mother and father still living at home but itching to get out there and find his life.

For me work devoured the years. Twenty years in the mainframe computing field at a large bank – followed by a 2nd career in the public sector. My life revolved around computer rooms and airports. It was a blur of projects and deadlines, technical diagrams and blueprints, industrial air conditioners and fast food. Thank God for Diet Coke (my caffeine of choice), Tums and Tylenol.

But there has been one constant through all those years, one thing that kept me sane and rooted and that was you Leah.

I’m sure there were years when you thought you were a single mom, raising two young boys and holding down a career of your own while I was off in (fill in the City here) doing God knows what. But I’d come home and find the boys healthy and happy, the house clean (ok – might be a bit of a stretch) and my bed warm and inviting (might be venturing into Leah’s written words here.)

How can you thank someone for giving you a life? For sharing theirs?

In good times and in bad. Sure there have been good times and bad, and a few down right awful times. But you pulled me through those and allowed me the luxury of time and patience. The time for my mind to come to grips with life, and your patience to put up with me while I did.

In Sickness and in Health. Those words spoken so fleetingly during our vows have taken on a much deeper meaning as we, dare I say it, approach middle age. In the words of the great philosopher Confucius ‘Getting old sucks’.

For Richer, for Poorer. Yeah well at least we have our health (see above.)

Until Death do us part. Let’s just hold off on that one for a while… Remember you promised that we both reach the age of ninety-two and just go to sleep after a night of amorous adventure….

As my career wanders off into its twilight years, Leah, you seem to have gotten your second wind.

I sit here tonight in a hotel room in Kansas City, not for one of my computer installs or work, but to be with you while you attend the Romantic Times Conference as a ‘Multi-Published Author.’  Let me say that again cause it sounds so nice, a ‘Multi-Published Author.’

As I write this you are up on the 40th floor of the hotel wining and dining with editors and publishers as well as other authors.

There are stacks of postcards and bookmarks all over the hotel room – every flat surface is piled high. All swag to be given out to fans. Yes, I said the word fans. Some love your work so much they want to be a part of it, to have some involvement in the process, and have created a fan club and street team.

God, what a ride.

But they don’t know what I do. They never met the shy little girl scribbling in pencil in tiny journals the stories that were intended for no one else’s eyes.

Or the young woman writing fan fiction weaving Tolkien tales, and gaining a large following on the web.

No one else understands the courage you mustered to take your own work and send it out into the world. Well maybe there are a few hundred others in this hotel that have like stories. But your story is unique and I, like your Street Team, am glad to be allowed to be a part of it. I thank you for that.

And I thank you for the last 35 years. Here’s looking forward to the next 35.

I am supposed to be the romance writer, but I think Gizmo Guy got me beat today.

Happy Anniversary, Gizmo Guy. I love you.

Meet Turtle

Turtle is the newest member of the Braemel household.  We adopted him yesterday from a rescue group where he’s been looking for a home for over two years, almost his entire life.

Why is he called Turtle? Because of his coloring. He has this neat almost black stripe down his spine, and then fine stripes down his side, so if you look at him from above it looks like he’s got a shell.  (We didn’t decide upon the name, his foster mother did, and she asked that we not change his name. Which we are happy to agree to. After Storm, Spike and Seamus, we’re quite pleased to have a pet with a name that doesn’t start with S.)

So how’s Seamus taking to him?  He’s REALLY excited. As in bark-bark-earpiercing-bark-I wanna-play-OMG-I-wanna-play excited.  He’s also a coward — he’ll go up and sniff Turtle’s behind, but the moment Turtle turns around, Seamus scampers backward.

How’s Turtle taking to Seamus? Turtle was used to dogs, that was one of the things we made sure of before we adopted him and just stalks right on by poor whimpering and shaking-because-he’s-so-excited Seamus.  Oh, he’s gone up and sniffed him and been nose-to-nose with the poor puppy, and then walked away, tail twitching high in the air as if to taunt Seamus.

For our part, we’re having fun comparing how smart cats are to how dumb Seamus is.  When he’s tired of Seamus trailing him, Turtle will jump up on one of the dining room chairs. Even though Turtle’s tail and rear end shows from beneath the table cloth, Seamus can’t think three dimension and only looks at his own level, instead of looking up.  It’s hilarious to watch him go around and around, passing right beneath and by the cat without realizing Turtle’s right there.

Fingers crossed they’ll soon be cuddling up together in Seamus bed. Which Turtle has already claimed as his own…

Thirty Fourth celebration of Five Six Seven Eight!

Look what my hubby brought home for me for our thirty fourth anniversary today.

I’ve told him and told him and told him how much I LOVE getting flowers, but he rarely buys them for me because he says that’s such a cliched gift.

Because he listened to me and brought me roses, I promised him I’d take him to England for our 35th … (see, guys, listening to your partner can pay off!)

Has the definition of Erotic Romance changed?

When I started reading erotic romance back in the early to mid-2000s, erotic romance meant “bedroom door wide open”, the author would use graphic terminology that the regular romances wouldn’t. The act of love making between the hero and heroine was captured in all its glory, so to speak, instead of closing the door or the camera panning to the window and only panning in once the couple were in the cuddling after-glow stage.  There were some books where the hero was dominant (not with a capital D), and some where there was a certain kink factor. Especially when the paranormal was involved — the one that springs to mind is Lora Leigh’s Elizabeth’s Wolf. OMG hot!

But as time went on it seemed that the “envelope had to be pushed” to include kinkier and kinkier acts. It’s pretty much a given in any of the books I’ve read lately that anal sex will be included. The menage a trois that used to be scandalous has become almost passe to have only three partners and not more. (The logistics of all those body parts and what fits where and the gymnastics that have to be gone through to … well, it’s an intricate act of choreography.)

Is it just me or has the tide shifted so anything labelled erotic romance has to include BDSM?  It seems to be industry prevalent — the Romance Studio doesn’t even have an erotic romance category in their CAPA awards anymore, now there’s only a BDSM category (and it’s not just at TRS I’m noticing this phenomenon.) My editor at Samhain tells me that to qualify to be a Red Hot in their store, the story has to be about the sexual journey more than an outside plot. But is an excursion into the realm of BDSM the only journey left to explore these days? Is everything else too “vanilla”? 

Personally I like writing (and reading) characters using bondage in the bedroom. As a writer it’s fun to explore their psyches as they relinquish control, as a reader it’s just fun to read. And while bondage is the B in BDSM, I think it’s the SM part that bothers me as a reader the most. While I’ve written characters who are into spanking and flogging (yes, there is some in PERSONAL PROTECTION, and more (for both good, and bad) in HIDDEN HEAT, personally I find it difficult to write heroines being turned on by pain. Wearing my reader hat, I generally find a hero who causes a heroine pain, even in the name of love, makes him less heroic, and when there is pain it tends to lessen the romanticism of the scene for me. In both cases, I know that my own life experiences are coloring my preferences, which, for a writer, can be dangerous because I am not supposed to let the dreaded “author intrusion” occur. 

So I’m interested to know what other readers of erotic romance expect these days. Do you prefer your erotic romance to involve BDSM?  What are the boundaries of that envelope that’s being pushed? Are you reading erotic romance for the romance or for the eroticism? What changes have you noticed? What trends do you like? What trends are you getting bored with?

What about those of you who prefer the bedroom door left partially closed? Are you finding more and more graphic sex creeping into what used to be regular contemporaries?

 

 

Tangled Past a Top Pick from Night Owl Reviews

Melinda from Night Owl Reviews gave Tangled Past another Top Pick review award.

Leah Braemel has done it again in a story about three people whose lives change drastically. You have Sarah McLeod who is young and sometimes innocent about so many things. Seeing two men like Jackson and Nate confuses her yet she feels safe with them. A relationship like theirs is unheard of but Sarah knows they can make it work. Leah Braemel did an awesome job in showing how far a friend will go to make sure everybody is happy even it means sacrificing his own happiness. One thing about Leah Braemel is she knows about cowboys, love and passion no matter how many people are in that relationship. Tangled Past is definitely a keeper and Leah Braemel is one author to always keep up to date on. She never fails in writing a book worth reading.

You can read the whole review here.

Buy the eBook:  Amazon Kindle | Barnes and Noble| Kobo

Tangled Past a “Recommended Read”

I was out all yesterday afternoon and came home to a tweet from @HockeyVampiress asking if I’d seen the latest All Romance eBooks‘ Wildfire newsletter. At the time I hadn’t even had a chance to check my email so I hadn’t, so HV sent me a copy. As I scrolled down, I found Tangled Past had received a coveted Recommended Read review under the banner “Ravishing Historical Romance Reviews”. (*Edited — here’s the link to the actual review on the All Romance eBooks Cafe)

Maybe it’s just easier to copy the entire review which is written by Lady Rhyleigh*.

Tangled Past by Leah Braemel

Sarah McLeod knew that her family had no use for her other than to be a servant for them as they made no effort to hide the fact that they despised her mixed blood. Hearing them plan an attack on the men who had bought her prized stallion, she had to warn them. Seeing them pleasure each other not only scandalized her but stirred something else deep inside but before she could do anything but blush she found herself standing behind the dark haired stranger as he was staring down the barrel of Josiah McLeod’s rifle.

Jackson Kellar and Nate Campbell shared a love for each other that many would consider a hanging offense. Getting caught, the situation at hand was going to change their lives forever. Waiting for the preacher to come, Nate offers to take the black haired beauty as his own but Jackson stands true and takes the hand of his new bride. Making a new life for his new bride while under the same roof as the man he loves, Jackson is torn but stands true to his vows. When a life threatening event forces them all to reevaluate their situation and search their hearts for the truth, they realize that their situation has to change if they are ever going to build a family and a life together.

Sinful, sexy, mesmerizing and intoxicating. I fell in love with this series with the release of Texas Tangle and this prequel to that story was just as captivating. Sarah was a very refreshing and feisty character. I really liked how she dealt with the scorn and hatred of her family and how she walked into her new life with not one but two strangers without breaking down or looking back. Jackson and Nate, both strong alphas, confirmed bachelors and in love with each other not only were loyal to the vows Jackson spoke but made it their priority to give Sarah the choices and the chance to find love with not one but with two loyal men beside her.

Lady Rhyleigh loves to indulge in a good rolicking romance from any genre but there is nothing like snuggling up with a ravishing rake and his lady love.  A reviewer for a few years, Lady Rhyleigh spends all of her free time with her head in a book imagining she is the heroine and there is nothing that she will not do to catch her man.  Lady Rhyleigh loves them all from Lords and Marquis to cowboys and ranchers to vampires and shifters to pirates and highlanders.  If it involves a romp through time she will be there.

 

 

“Top Pick” for Tangled Past

While I was away at Lori Foster’s get together, I got an email that Night Owl Romance had reviewed Tangled Past. I always open them with some trepidation because as we all know, reading is subjective and what one person likes another will despise. I also worried that I may have alienated some readers because of the M/M aspect. I will confess that often I ask a friend to check out my reviews for me. Can you imagine my relief when I saw this…

Night Owl Romance Top Pick

Terri gave it 5 stars and a Top Pick award.

“While the relationship is similar to the one in Texas Tangle, it is definitely not the same. Everything from the way to came about to how the participants interact is different…Once again Ms Braemel has made her story come to life and taken me along on the journey.”

For the whole review, click here or on the graphic above. Thanks Terri!

A love letter to Gizmo Guy

Dear Gizmo Guy

I can’t believe it’s been thirty three years since we said our “I do”s. I still feel like we should be celebrating our fifth anniversary, the years have gone by so quickly. (Except for the two boys in their twenties who tower over me of course.)

Heaven knows life has thrown a lot at us in the last thirty-three years–health issues, both our families and our own; the birth of our two boys and raising them with all the worries parenting brings; issues dealing with our own aging parents.  We’ve both gone through layoffs and uncertainties about where our next rent or mortgage payment was going to be found. We’ve had our share of arguments which of course ended with a make-up sessions–which is probably why we’ve lasted thirty-three years. So thank you for being there for me at every twist and turn our life has taken. Thank you for being a determined, practical man who faces challenges by meeting them head-on without a lot of drama, and for putting up with me who knows only drama.

You’ve taught me a lot about dealing with life. So many nights I’d lie in bed staring at the ceiling replaying the events of the day, wondering how I’d get through the next, frustrated because you could roll over and drop straight to sleep. I always knew that I could turn over and wake you up (yes, I apologize for those nights I did) and get even more frustrated because you would simply ask “is staying up worrying about it going to change anything? Is it going to make the money appear in the bank to pay the rent/mortgage/bill?” Of course the answer was no, but it took me years–all right, decades–to figure that out. I still stare at the ceiling a lot at night, but now it’s to let those characters in my stories keep me awake, not the bills and other issues. (I’m sure a psychiatrist could say it’s a method of avoidance or something, I don’t care. Those characters are helping me pay the bills 😉 )

Thank you for always letting me know you’re thinking of me even when you’ve been thousands of miles away–not only from the phone calls you’d make or later the IM sessions, but for all those presents you’ve brought back, that show me you’ve scoured the stores wherever you were to find whatever whim I’m following at the moment. Thank you for going into that sewing shop in Minneapolis and buying me a tiny pair of stork scissors for my embroidery. For my collection of angels that you’d add to every time you went away because you knew I needed to be surrounded by goodness because bad things hovered on the periphery of our life.

You are always so darned even tempered — I had no idea how to argue with someone so quiet-spoken after living with the fiery tempers of my parents’ marriage. How could you fight if it wasn’t at the top of your lungs? Well, you taught me how. I thank you for teaching me that.

Thank you for being such a great example of what a real man is like to our sons–  you’re a great Dad, and with your patience and quiet manner, you’re a great example of how a man can be a great husband.

And I know I’ve influenced you too–like that first year when I’d curl up on the couch with a book or sink into a tub for an hour at a time with my book, and you thought I was angry with you and avoiding you, not realizing the pleasure that could be found in reading. Now you bring home books for me, and even have your own Kobo reader and devour almost as many books as I do.

When I finally confessed that I wrote,  you’d listen to me endlessly natter on about passive voice and showing not telling. And you proved that you listened to me–I mean really listened to me–by sending me a document and asking me to read it. You knocked me for a loop when I realized you’d written a story too. As I sat reading it that day, hearing your voice in my head telling the story, laughing at your subtle humour (and not so subtle sometimes) as you fictionalized some of the things that we’d done, I was both laughing with joy and crying with happiness. How many women, let alone authors, have such proof that their husbands do indeed listen to them?

Thank you for putting up with my muttering and my flights of fancy as I chased this dream and that. And thank you for listening to me talk about how I needed to go back to work in 2006 then for telling me to go after my dreams of getting published, that somehow despite all the trouble we’d been through in the previous few years, that we’d get by on just the one salary. Because if you hadn’t encouraged me to keep writing, I doubt this blog would exist. I know of few other women who have husbands who so actively support their writing–some even have husbands who ask when they’ll give up on their dreams. Without knowing you supported me, I doubt any of my books would have been written, let alone submitted or published.

So you’ll have to wait for a month to get your present, but for the first time in a very long time, I’m buying your present with my very own money. I hope you really enjoy New York and I hope you’ll show me all your favorite things about that great city.

I love you, Gizmo Guy. I hope we see another thirty-three years together…