I’m close to releasing my first SuperRomance (November) and it’s a Christmas book, which brings me to my biggest problem with the holiday months ahead–the Fight The Fat Season.

I have a love/hate relationship with October, November and December. The love is obvious, but the hate is related to food, specifically sweets in my case. Halloween, Thanksgiving (a little, since the traditional holiday foods aren’t my favorite indulgences–well, except for homemade rolls), and then Christmas with all the parties and cookies and alcohol and candy everywhere you go just about kills me.

I’ve maniacally exercised and been militant about staying lowish carb for the last couple months and I’m nearly my target weight.

Yet, I can easily slap on 10 pounds in the next month or so, while STILL exercising madly. I’m watching THINtervention AND America’s Biggest Losers in self defense…. But I only have so much will power.

Over at the SuperRomance blog, I garnered some really cool tips like: Don’t go to a party hungry, use the smallest plate, carry a photo of yourself at your ideal weight and look at it when temptation strikes, minimize alcohol consumption.

So help me add to the list, which I intend to print out and carry in my purse. I’ll choose three names from those who offer their best tips for managing sugar intake during the Fight The Fat Season!

Warning: A LOT LIKE CHRISTMAS, my November book, set in a special shopping at Christmas, is full of food references…sigh. But it does have a great couple and a darling dog…and it got 4 stars from Romantic Times…so I hope it’s worth the temptation.
Best,
Dawn
www.dawnatkins.com

I just saw the cover of my November SuperRomance and got that old jittery feeling from when my first book was about to come out–24 books ago, by the way. That’s because this is my first SuperRomance and though it’s solidly a Dawn Atkins book, with the same sensuality, emotion and type of story, it has a slightly different flavor. I love this story. It has a long and complex history and has gone through many changes over the years since the idea of it popped into my mind and would not leave until I wrote it. It’s about a girl whose home is the mall where she more or less grew up and the man who’s about to sell it out from under her.

I’m nervous. Will readers of my Blaze stories pick up this new book? Do people even BUY Christmas books? How about new readers? Will they take a chance on a “new” SuperRomance author? And, perhaps most importantly, will they choose a cover with a demon dog leering up at the couple?

This made me laugh–the weird dog picture–since the reason a Cavalier King spaniel is even in the book is because I think they’re the cutest puppies EVER. I mean, melt-your-heart, stuffed-animal darling. Where this possibly rabid beast came from is beyond me. Sigh.

So, somebody reassure me that even spawn of Satan spaniels won’t scare away buyers, okay? And what do you think about new/old authors writing for different lines? Oh, and Christmas books? Do they get you in the spirit or are they overkill?

Okay, time to lie down with an ice pack on my head.
Best,
Dawn Atkins
www.dawnatkins.com
A LOT LIKE CHRISTMAS, SuperRomance, 11/10

I’ve been working on new story ideas lately and noticed that most of my heroines hover around age 27, which, it “dawned” on me, is how old I feel. Or rather, where I locked down my mental self.

So when I’m galloping around and swiveling my hips in Zumba (Latin-Hip-Hop aerobic dance) class at my gym, I picture myself at that age, with no wrinkles or saggy neck skin or knee dimples. Which is also, by the way, why I stay back from the gym mirrors. Fuzzy vision is my friend, ahem.

In fact, when I go out to a restaurant or bar or a party and catch sight of myself in the bathroom mirror I always hesitate…who is this woman? Not the smooth-cheeked, glittery-eyed, perky blonde with the trim figure in my head, but a slightly worn out female with a hopeful expression but signs of…age. Sigh.

What age are you locked into in your head? Do you know why you stuck at that age? For me, I think I was at the crossroads of insecure youth and the sky’s-the-limit adulthood at the time.

Of course it took a few more years for me to really become an adult (and some would say I still have a ways to go) and a few more to achieve my dream of being a full-time novelist, but the journey began in earnest that year of my life.

And now I see no end in sight to the stories I want to tell about my late-twenties heroines. I just sent off two new story ideas to my editor, am working on the galleys for my first SuperRomance, A LOT LIKE CHRISTMAS, out in November and expect revisions any day to HOME TO HARMONY, to be released in January.

So maybe a 27-year-old spirit in an, um, well, older body is not so bad after all!
All my best,
Dawn Atkins
www.dawnatkins.com

There is an island somewhere in the Caribbean that two countries have been hotly fighting over. There was diplomatic tension, ongoing threats of attack, etc.

Enter global warming and last month the island dropped into the sea.
Gone…glub, glub, glub. No more dispute. Case closed.

That got me thinking about worry.
(Of course. Everything gets me thinking about worry.)
Specifically thinking about all the things I’ve worried about over the years that never happen at all. What’s the saying? Worrying about tomorrow only sucks the joy from today.

So true.
A friend of mine is very, very popular. She’s on numerous on-line groups, is active in clubs, well known and beloved everywhere she goes. Recently, her mother, a psychiatrist, mused, “You know, if I’d know how popular you would end up being, I wouldn’t have worried so much about you being lonely in college.”

That mother endured hours, months and years of needless worry. And she was a shrink, who, no doubt, knew better!

Meanwhile, the real troubles slam us out of left field. We’re wringing our hands and sweating in the completely wrong direction.

That means that when I worry about whether my son will do well in college, find a good job, be loved his life long, or whether my first SuperRomance, A LOT LIKE CHRISTMAS, coming in November, will sell well, or if my editor will love the one I’m working on right now as much, I’m simply poisoning many lovely days, weeks, months and years. Right?

Absolutely. Gotta stop that.
Maybe I’ll worry about how much I worry for a while…
What pointless worries do you have? How do you banish them?
My advice is Bobby McFerrin’s: Don’t worry, be happy.
I double dog dare you.
Best,
Dawn Atkins
www.dawnatkins.com
A LOT LIKE CHRISTMAS, HQ SuperRomance, 11/10

I want nothing from my husband on Valentine’s Day.

Don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t turn down roses or a card or anything. I guess I mean I don’t need anything from my husband on Valentine’s Day.

That’s because he makes me feel loved, needed, wanted and appreciated all year long. That sounds hokey, I know. He’s no saint, believe me, but he brings home flowers for no particular reason, buys me athletic socks after overhearing me mumbling about the holes in mine, and the words “I love you” roll off his tongue pretty regularly.

There have been periods of time over the years when I’ve felt lonely, under-appreciated, taken for granted maybe. If that went on very long, you can bet I’d be tapping my foot on my birthday or Valentine’s Day, expecting some tangible proof that he’d thought about me. And it better not be from a Seven-Eleven, either.

There are also bad Valentine’s Day gifts, as I’m sure you know. One year, he brought home a big box of chocolates and I wanted to throw them at his head.

Why? Because I’d been fighting a hard battle with about twenty pounds of post-baby cargo I had just begun making headway on losing The last thing I needed was a box of chocolates I would plow through without even sitting down first. That was no gift. It was an assault.

Which brings me to the question of what makes a good gift, for Valentine’s Day or any day. My theory is it should be personalized, something your loved one noticed about you, only you, a secret wish or a longed-for treat.

What do you think about celebrating Valentine’s Day and gifts and cards? What was your best Valentine’s Day? What made it that way?

In honor of the holiday, I’m giving away a few books. Tell me your Valentine’s Day tale and you’ll be part of my drawing.

May you have the Valentine’s Day of your dreams.
Best,
Dawn Atkins
www.dawnatkins.com

We just braved snowbanks, slush and ice to pick up our son from his first semester of college up in Flagstaff, Arizona (snow country) and haul him and his gear back down to sunny Phoenix–he’s transferring to ASU for spring.

That’s him in the photo above, an old shot my husband just rustled up from somewhere.

I cannot believe a sweet little angel like that could live like he and his roommate did in their smelly dorm!

You know those nightmares where you have to clean a room but it’s piled with crap and you’re moving through molasses or quicksand to get there and the mess keeps growing?

That was what it was like only I was awake. Wide awake. Alex helped, of course. He had most of his gear in boxes, but there were miles of mess to go before we could get the RA to release him of liability (and blobs of pizza on the ceiling). The floor wasn’t *covered* with debris. It was more like a tile mosaic, if the tiles were paper plates, index cards, text books, empty tea bag packages, Pop Tart boxes and coffee filters (clean, at least).

Turn around, turn around and they’re young men…

I wanted to turn around and kick them both in the butt.

I want a show of hands: How many of you have found yourself saying of your child, “I didn’t raise him to ____ .” Fill in the blank with “live like a pig,” “throw away his money on junk food,” “not write thank-you notes to his grandmother,” “sleep until two,” etc.

How that sweet little boy peeking his head through the dog door turned into this 5 foot, nine inch hulking trash generator I’ll never know. What did I do wrong?

Tell me your favorite college child story. Or any before and after tale of your offspring. I need consolation.
My best for the holiday season!
Dawn Atkins
www.dawnatkins.com
HOME FOR CHRISTMAS, HQ SuperRomance, 11/10

The other day a woman in my Zumba class mentioned that I seemed to have lost weight. YAY! I’ve been through this numerous times. I get my act together, exercise hard, keep carb intake down and avoid desserts and a pound or two dribbles away.

I’ve finally figured out the formula. If I violently exercise six days a week, watch carbs every day, I can manage one dessert and not gain weight. In short, eternal vigilance.

Then comes Halloween. Torture. Even though most of the trick-or-treat candies aren’t that tasty. Nevertheless, they’re irresistible to me.

Bear in mind, we only get about six sets of trick-or-treaters at our house. Our dead-end street has few children and our houses are so far apart we don’t draw neighborhood groups. Every year my husband persists in getting the “good candy”–mostly chocolate bars, especially Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups, and the next morning I’m faced with an entire bowl of leftovers.

I’m trying to negotiate with him–just one bag and make it Twixt, which just tastes nasty to me, put out the scary, voice-activated head-in-the-fishbowl who makes bad horror jokes, plus a bowl of candy and act like we’re not home. That way the temptation is OUTSIDE all night. I fear he’ll succumb to the urge to be gracious and there I’ll be with a bowl of temptation in the morning.

Help! How do you save yourself from Halloween…and temptations in general? I need three weeks to get fortified.
Best,
Dawn Atkins
www.dawnatkins.com

If you’ve ever wondered how apparently sensible women get victimized by strangers they allow in their homes or near their cars–assaulted, mugged, robbed at gunpoint–here’s a personal story that might offer some insight–or make me look like an idiot.

First off, you need to know that I’m not a stupid or foolish person. I don’t take unnecessary risks. When I walk across a dark parking lot, I keep my keys between my knuckles and stay alert. I lock my car door as soon as I get inside. If a situation feels iffy, I leave. I’ve even been to a self-defense workshop. I know that if an attacker points a gun at me and tells me to get in his car, I’m far safer running away. The chances he’ll even hit me are much lower than my chances of being hurt or killed once I climb into his car.

That said, here’s the story. One evening, I was alone in our house in our very safe neighborhood and there was a knock at the door.

Thinking my son had left without his house key, I headed for the door in my thick terrycloth robe. Our front door has windows on either side, so callers can see you standing there.

At the door was a man I didn’t recognize. He waved in a friendly way, said something I couldn’t hear.

Now what? Do I open the door or back away, behaving as if I think he’s a serial killer. He was likely one of my husband’s cyclist friends here to pick up a logo jersey my husband had ordered for the people in his club. How embarrassing if I treated him like an axe murderer, right?

Just before I opened the door, I looked him over and concluded, “I can take him.” He was short and thin and I’m physically fit. Can you believe that?

He did turn out to be a bicycle buddy, but my husband was horrified when I told him what I’d done. It sounded really bad, even to me.

Tell me you can understand how this happened, please.

I got the vibe this guy was harmless, so I opened the door–just a little ways, of course, thinking I could slam it if something was off.

But I can see dozens of scenarios where robbers or rapists or murderers could seem just as harmless and friendly, asking to use the phone or for help lifting something into their van or for directions. Ted Bundy used a cane to solicit help from sympathetic females, after all.

My point is that we’re all vulnerable to attack in some way. My inclination is to trust my instincts, to not expect the worst of people. I’m not sure I want to live in a world where I won’t answer the door unless I’ve seen photo ID and run a security check on my caller.

On the other hand, you can’t be too careful, right?

What are your thoughts on safety precautions and paranoia? Any experiences similar to mine?

I’ve since concluded that next time I’ll yell through the door (almost impossible to hear, by the way) and not open unless I like what I manage to hear, no matter how embarrassing it is to turn away our new neighbor wanting to get to know the people next door.
Best,
Dawn Atkins
www.dawnatkins.com
HOME FOR CHRISTMAS, HQ SuperRomance, 22/10

Say what you will about reality tv, it’s here to stay. It started in 2000 with Survivor–can you believe they’re on their 19th season?–and it’s still going strong. I confess I find some shows a guilty pleasure. I mostly watch competition shows, like Project Runway or So You Think You Can Dance or Top Chef, but, in the interest of full disclosure, I also watch Real Housewives of various cities for the tacky cat fights and vulgar spending habits and any other juicy tidbits about human frailties I can absorb. Don’t hate me for being weak.

I have an excuse, though. It’s research. Sometimes, as writers, we’re so intent on making our story points, we skip over basic human behavior. For example, when someone everyone’s angry at enters a room, the offended people do not go after that person ASAP. No, they’re polite and quiet and wary. Sometimes they won’t say a word, which is maddening to watch, but true to life, for sure.

Often I want to have my hero and heroine to jump into their big fight right NOW, though once I settle in and live in their personalities for a bit, I quickly opt for the real life likelihood of tap-dancing, subtexting and avoidance altogether until, of course, the crucial, right moment.

Reality TV keeps me honest! Yes, that’s right. I watch reality show to track the nuances of a face in shock or sadness or embarrassment, the agony of defeat and the thrill of victory. Reality shows make me cringe and look away a lot, but they remind me about the not-always-pretty aspects of people and, to be fair, some of the lovely ones, too.

Remember the noble roots of reality TV—the PBS documentary The American Family, a groundbreaking study of the workings of the basic American social unit, to get all sociological on you.
That sounds pretty respectable, right? Okay, so it’s lurid and voyeuristic, too. But that, also, is human.

That’s my story. Reality TV makes me a better writer. Besides, eavesdropping at the airport, the gym, or the Starbucks to nab real dialogue and human interaction can get you arrested for stalking and that can seriously mess with your deadline.

Oh, and, by the way, stop over at dawnatkins.com, where I’m giving away backlist Blazes to readers in the lull between releases!
Best,
Dawn Atkins
www.dawnatkins.com

So my March Blaze, STILL IRRESISTIBLE, is my 23nd published book, and my 13th Blaze and at a family dinner my mother-in-law’s husband, 87, a dear, dear man announces for the benefit of the guest couple, strangers to most of us, “Do you know what she DOES for a LIVING?” (He means me.) “She writes SEX BOOKS!”

Now, he’s proud of this and announces it with triumph, declaring me famous, and the couple, in their mid-80s, smile politely, but they look frozen with embarrassment and I explain, “They’re love stories, yes, with a number of love scenes, but also with humor and a little suspense… blah, blah, blah,” but I did cringe. Which bothers me.

I’m not the least bit apologetic about the sex in my books. Blaze is known for sexual journeys that reflect character growth. Our characters discover love and learn how to fulfill their potential through their sexual relationship.

They’re hot books and that’s a good thing. I’m no prude, but I still get uncomfortable having my books labeled like that. I suppose it could be worse. One sister told me her friends call sexy romances “crotch throbbers.” Ooookkkaaaay…. I can support that idea. It’s just so…minimal, so boiled down, so bouillon-ish when I see our books as big, steaming, rich bowls of chicken soup for the, uh, soul.

Gone are the days when readers wrapped their romances in brown paper to read on the subway, right? We all celebrate that. So I should not be cringing, darn it.

What are your thoughts on reading–or writing–books with a high sexual content? What do you say to relatives and friends or professors who raise their eyebrows over your reading matter? I need something snappy and cute that won’t hurt my well-meaning step-father-in-law and might net some new readers.
Best,
Dawn Atkins
www.dawnatkins.com