The divide between the rich and the poor spans the length of history.  Why both can sometimes treat the other as if enemies from foreign nations is difficult to dissect, but it is evident from current and historical events that humanity continuously seeks out ways to segregate.  We’ve seen people divide over race, color, language, religion, gender, and wealth.  No matter which side one is on, there exists rhetoric that dehumanizes, de-intellectualizes, and points angry blame at the other.

Right now, the prevalent rhetoric is widening the class divide: the wealthy are soulless bastards who pathologically hoard money and material items; the working class is comprised of lazy freeloaders who feel entitled to regular handouts.  Is either of these universally correct?  Correct to any degree or not, does it justify the level of divide being felt right now between the upper and lower classes?

In my new release World-Mart, the class divide among the majority is separated by those who work among the masses, those born to work in manual labor, and the 1% who own them all.  The story follows one family’s struggle to hold together when the class boundaries between them suddenly change.


Excerpt:

There was still no sign of Shelley and Kurt. George wondered if perhaps he had been a little too hard on both of them as of late, and maybe they decided to stay out past dark to teach him a lesson. Maybe their plan was to make him worry just long enough for him to realize he wasn’t being as much of a team player as he could be. If that was the case, they were succeeding beyond their wildest dreams.

Deciding that he had the scenario completely figured out, he went to his bedroom and packed an overnight bag. Noting the turning weather, he bundled up, putting on a heavy jacket, his warmest boots, and a protective hat. He found a good picture of Virginia and tucked it into his bag, then left a note in the kitchen, telling Shelley to keep an eye on Kurt for the weekend. He said nothing about Virginia in his note, not wanting to get their hopes up, telling them he would explain everything when he returned.

He had no idea where he was going to go, but he felt that initiating a physical search would be a far better use of his time than staying idly where he was. He had the weekend to travel the district, and Shelley was old enough to watch Kurt for a couple of days. He knew that what he was doing was rash, but there was too much at stake for him to do nothing.

He locked up the apartment and took off toward the shuttle garage, hoping that he wasn’t too late to get a quick lift closer to the heart of the district. He ran as a shuttle going northeast was getting ready to begin toward its final trip to the Food-Mart. He boarded the shuttle just in time, and it accelerated out of the garage just as Shelley’s shuttle came in.

* * * *

Shelley hurried to the apartment, positive that she would freeze to death if she didn’t get to a heated space soon. Half of her body felt numb, and everything that wasn’t numb burned from the cold. Her head was so cold she could barely think. She still wasn’t sure what she was going to tell her father about Kurt, as a huge confrontation the moment she stepped through the front door was most likely unavoidable. Still, she had nowhere else left to go but home.

Much to her surprise, she opened the door to a cold, dark, empty apartment. She was relieved at first, but when she read George’s note and realized that Kurt was still unaccounted for, she became overtaken with another heavy surge of guilt and worry. She turned the wall heater back on and stood by it for a moment.

Unwilling to face the cold again, Shelley decided to regain her bearings and get a good night’s rest before returning to her search for Kurt. She would get up early and start back at the Corp Education System’s garage, giving his picture to all of the security associates in the area. Hopefully, he just went home with a friend and she could track him down before George got back. Trying to convince herself that she had done the right thing by returning home, that there was nothing more she could have done for him, she tried to get comfortable on the hard kitchen chair.

Not satisfied with how quickly the coils were heating, Shelley decided to take a quick, hot shower. She hurried to the bathroom and turned on the click-light. She looked at her battered face in the mirror, horrified at the sight of her bloodshot eye. Dark bruises were beginning to form all around it, and the swelling still had not let up. Forcing herself to look away, she turned on the shower as hot as her skin could take it. She turned on the water recycler, planning to stay in as long as it took to warm her body clear through. Standing under the heavy jets of water, relishing in finally being warm, she did not hear the telephone ring.

Kurt stood, shaking and chattering, in a phone booth in the Corp Education System’s shuttle garage. He had hidden in the boys‟ bathroom earlier, when Shelley had been looking for him, and clearly he had stayed in there for a little too long. The game had ceased to be fun some time ago, and now he just wanted to go home. Shelley had his shuttle pass, and he had been denied passage even on the promise that he would pay later. Security sent him on another round of hide-and-go-seek, and by the time he emerged from his spot behind the garbage cans, the entire garage had been shut down for the evening. Heavy gates kept him from entering school grounds, and he had no idea as to where any of the pedestrian access halls led.

He realized that his hands and fingers were turning shades of red and blue, and he rubbed them together in attempt to warm them. The motion was painful, despite the fact that most of both hands had gone numb. His face and ears had all gone numb too, and his toes felt like frozen rocks in his shoes. As the area became dark and quiet, he began to imagine monsters in the shadows, and as the time passed, he became increasingly certain that those stalking him were the same monsters that had taken away his mother. While he might have sought aid from the random security associate who passed through every hour or so, he dared not move, lest the Boogieman snatch him out of the darkness and send him into some hellish oblivion. He wished he were in his bedroom, near the dim light of the bathroom click-light, safe at home with his family. He knew running and hiding from Shelley had been a mistake, the repercussions having become far worse than a few harsh words or even a spank on the rear. He wondered if Shelley was now in trouble, too, for having lost him, and he genuinely regretted his childish behavior.

His fingers and toes began to get worse, and he curled up behind the trashcans in attempt to get warm. To his relief he stopped shaking, although his teeth still chattered. He took quick, heavy breaths, the cold air stinging his lungs. His arms and legs became difficult to move, and he stretched periodically to check that his limbs were all still intact. Finally, he tried to get up, only to find that he could not. He stared ahead, watching his frozen breath as it exited his mouth in tiny puffs. Each breath disappeared nearly as soon as it came, and still he became fixated on the tiny clouds. He began to imagine them in fun and different shapes: a star; a heart; a teddy bear; endless ocean waves; his mother’s beautiful, sad, lonely face. . . .

The desire to sleep came on slowly, and then suddenly he had no choice but to close his eyes and rest his heavy head. The chattering stopped and his cold body fell awkwardly limp. His mind slipped to a place where his mother could hold him in a tender, loving embrace, a place where there were no more worries . . . no more monsters, or freezing cold, or crushing despair, just him sitting in his mother’s arms beneath the warm, comforting glow of a slowly fading afternoon sun, lazily picking out the shapes in the drifting clouds.

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Back when I was a child, not that long ago, small businesses were all over the place.  There were grocery markets, department stores, and restaurant chains, but “Mom and Pop” were still everywhere.

My first job was at a family owned, full-line pet store.  My boss taught me the importance of treating the customer right, taking pride in my work, always doing right by the animals, and being educated about what I was selling.  The bottom line was important, but not as important as customer loyalty and product quality.  Fast-forward twenty years and one would find me working as a manager at a corporate pet store chain.  I found the differences between the establishments to be profound—and that bigger does not always mean better.

After an especially trying tangle against the corporate red tape on one side of me and low paid young adults slacking under my watch on the other, I remember deciding I was going to write a book that took place in a world where everyone was reduced to a nametag, khakis, and a polo shirt.  In this world, no one took pride in what they did, so everything was of mediocre quality at best.  The multiple levels of managers and associates made it impossible to accomplish anything efficiently.  Everyone did all of their shopping at the Food-Mart, because that was the only place left for people to go.  Churches were owned by Faith-Corp.  People got all of their news from Info-Corp.

And then the terrifying thought struck me that we were already well on our way there.

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Excerpt from World-Mart:

George glanced through the electronic file of a doctor charged with prescribing and selling antibiotics. The research associates who put the case together had been thorough. The evidence against the doctor was overwhelming, and one particular patient the doctor attempted to treat had strep throat. Of course, when top managers confirmed that the patient was indeed infected with strep, Police-Corp and Medical-Corp worked together to euthanize the man as quickly and humanely as possible.

Antibiotics had been outlawed nearly twenty years ago, after scientists had determined that their use was no longer effective against most life-threatening disease-causing bacteria. Even worse, antibiotics affected certain bacteria’s evolutionary development, causing even some of the most benign of infections eventually to become untreatable and deadly. Antibiotic-immune strep, staph, and tuberculosis had became epidemic, and together the three had killed ten percent of the human population before Medical-Corp finally stepped in. Its top managers ordered the construction of quarantine camps, where hundreds of thousands of people eventually were corralled, killed, and cremated. All suspected cases of serious infectious diseases were now referred to a special committee within Medical-Corp. All whom they deemed infectious were removed for the greater good of society.

George looked through the different studies that had been attached to the case. Everything looked straightforward, except for the doctor’s personal notes. Page after page, almost all of the doctor’s words were blacked out, all pertaining to an apparent case study he was conducting. The only reason the research associate had left in the scanned files was that every few pages had untouched text in which the doctor mentioned his prescribing illegal antibiotics. George agreed to keep the otherwise useless pages in the file, deciding that the prosecution managers would likely find some use for them.

He read the pages of receipts, recorded telephone conversations, and photocopies of the doctor’s appointment logs. Everything appeared to be in order. Police-Corp already had a confession from the man, and therefore a guilty verdict from Law-Corps high management was already imminent. Still, it was George’s job to suggest formally that the doctor be charged and his file be sent to Sentencing. He entered the computer database in front of him, scanning the doctor’s charge sheet and bringing it to the monitor.

Two virtual buttons bearing the words “Guilty” and “Not Guilty” appeared on the bottom right corner of the screen under the word “Recommendation.” George tapped the “Guilty” button, and a new screen appeared, asking him a series of questions:

Did the Defendant confess to his/her crime(s)?
(Research associate #00335-921 said “Yes.”)
Click HERE to agree.
Click HERE to disagree.

Does the file work indicate that the Defendant showed remorse for said crime(s)?
(Research associate #01002-486 said “No.”)
Click HERE to agree.
Click HERE to disagree.

Does the file work indicate that the Defendant could have made a profit by committing said crime(s)?
(Research associate #00335-921 said “Yes.”)
Click HERE to agree.
Click HERE to disagree.

Has the Defendant ever been convicted of any previous crimes?
(Research associate #00257-851 said “Yes.”)
Click HERE to agree.
Click HERE to disagree.

Does the Defendant have anything to say in his/her defense, for having committed said crime(s)?
(Research associate #01014-002 said “Yes.”)
Click HERE to agree.
Click HERE to disagree.

George used another application to search for his answers. He went through each relevant section of file work, double-checking himself before punching in the same answers as given by the other research associates.

The computer then prompted, “State Defendant’s argument (limit 140 characters),” and George navigated through the file. He found the transcripts from the doctor’s police interview. He frowned as he found the lines in which the doctor said he could explain himself, but the explanation was blacked out. He studied the few words that remained between the thick swatches of black ink, trying to see if even a gist of the man’s argument remained. Knowing that files were blacked out when a suspect’s text referred to illegal or misleading concepts, he knew nothing else could be done but type, “Defendant’s argument invalid.”

The computer asked him if he was sure, and George tapped a round button with a “Yes” stretched across it.

The printer spat out a few sheets of new paperwork. It was an old, loud, outdated machine, and the paper it used was thick and pulpy, like most paper these days, recycled countless times through hand-powered paper recycling machines, only to be recycled again once another case officially closed. It was an archaic practice, one that few agencies still employed, but the pages gave the final review files a sense of credibility that only tradition could produce. George looked the over pages, and then stapled them together and stamped his personal seal in red ink, in a box printed on the front page. He signed on a line within the seal, added it to the top of the file, and then slid the file into a narrow, locked bin at the side of his cubicle.

Bells chimed through a loud speaker.

“Your work day is now over,” a soothing, cheerful female voice announced. “Corporate appreciates your productivity. Thank you for working at Law-Corp.”

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Government and corporate business have merged in an attempt to  keep the country  from going bankrupt, the effects of global warming and antibiotic-resistant  disease having caused a full collapse in infrastructure. The class divide has become profound, leaving most people trapped in an impoverished, working class world with little room for improvement. Complacency and corporate hierarchy  control and confound the masses, run by the elite few, collectively referred to as "Corporate."

George Irwin remembers a time before the Big Climate 
Change, back when the airlines were still in business and people still drove their own cars.  Sadly, his children have only known an indoor world of endless reconstruction, public shuttles, recycled water, and limited energy.  The world has changed much over his lifetime, but he still
believes in the American Dream. 

When an alleged terrorist act lands his wife in the hospital, however, George stumbles upon a Corporate secret that could mean the end of all civilization.
What does your future look like?

October 15 -- Kindle and PC
October 21 -- Paperback
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Of Mind and Matter is a collection of three related stories that together speculate aliens and space travel from three very different points of view.  In “Buying Peace,” society must reconsider its longstanding belief that theirs is the only planet inhabited  by intelligent life when radio telescopes receive a light-years-old intergalactic transmission—but unfortunately some beliefs die hard.  In “Of Mind and Matter,” experimentation with alien DNA has nightmarish consequences. “The Search for  Intelligent Life,” explains just where that alien DNA came from.

Excerpt from the title story:

Diana Conner, a young woman I had met through the project, became my good friend. We had begun meeting at least once a week after the memories started, spending most of our time discussing the project. Diana always spoke objectively on the issues at hand, with more hope than anything in maintaining her faith in our safety and well-being. When we met after our last  check-in, however, she had begun to see things in a completely different light.

She nervously searched the coffee house patio with her eyes, watching for spies who may have tagged along. She spoke in a barely audible whisper: “Something’s happening.” She looked around again, suspicious of the two men sitting beside the exit to the parking lot.

I gave a confused look.

She placed one of her hands beside a vase of flowers in the center of the table.“Watch my hand.” She moved her hand toward the vase. It seemed to make contact, but then passed through it as if nothing were there.

My hand went over my mouth. “Oh my God.”

With the same hand, she lifted the vase. She smelled the flowers, then set the vase back onto the table. “I can control it, at least for now. I think I’m turning into . . . him.”

My throat went dry and my chest grew tight. I wanted to respond, but the words wouldn’t come.

“I’m afraid,” she said. “What if the next treatment makes me. . . .” Her words trailed off. “Why didn’t they tell us the truth?” she asked instead.

I shrugged, feeling faint and heavy. I thought about Chris, how he had talked me into this, and I shook my head, willing away a knot that was forming in my throat.

“They can’t find out about this.” She looked around again. “If they do, I have a feeling they’ll want more than just weekly check-ins.”

I agreed.

Diana’s voice began to shake. “I want you to help me break into the lab tonight. I can walk right through the walls, so—”

“Wait a minute. I’m not so sure about that. They’ll be swarmed with security.”

“But if they examine the samples they took today—”

“I’m sure they’ve already begun.” I began to feel a little paranoid, myself, and I glanced around the patio, watching for watchers. The two men at the gate, both clad in black suits, glanced back at us.

Diana stared at me, silent, her eyes wide with panic.

The two men began toward our table.

Of Mind and Matter is available for only .99 through Amazon.
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When I finished my first novel, I remember feeling not only a sense of accomplishment, but also that amazing sense of having something special to share with the rest of the world.  I still had much to learn about my craft and about publishing, but having that heavy stack of paper in my hands--my masterpiece--I felt like I was ready to take on the world.  But ready I was not.

I sent out queries to all of my top-list agents, and the rejections started pouring in.  Most were form letters, which were always disappointing, but a few were personal and encouraging--they saw the potential, but knew I was not quite there.

I wrote my second novel, then queried it to all of my previous rejections and then some.  Same response--no one was interested in my brilliant new book.  I was clueless.  Luckily, I was developing a thick skin in the process.

Now that I've written ten novels, it has been interesting to revisit those first two.  I recently redrafted them both, and I was surprised to see just how far my writing has come.  I have to admit ... I'm mortified that I had queried for both in their previous states, and that I had actually thought they were ready for agents' eyes, let alone all the world's.  They were good stories in dire need of more redrafts--in dire, dire need.  I'm very thankful that they did not get published as they were, as it would have done them a great disservice.

It took writing about a million words (and reading even more) for me to be able to see my old work through new eyes.  Writing, like any craft, takes time, patience, and lots of practice--and one can never stop refining one's art.  I am eager to see what the next million words will bring.
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FOE and Muses 12/02/2010
 
I recently finished reading J. M. Coetzee's Foe, which has left me contemplating heavily over the concept of the muse.  The story presents itself as the narrative of a woman who spends a year shipwrecked with Robinson Crusoe after setting off to find her missing daughter.  However, as the story unfolds, it becomes evident that Foe is many layers deeper than it first appears.
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I do not want to bore readers with an exhaustive critical analysis, but I do need to share that Foe is a novel all writers--or all who heed the muses--should read.  The ending is haunting, yet so relevent.

I consider the stories that have haunted me over the years ... the characters that have begged, sometimes demanded, to have their stories told.  I consider every one of them gifts, as maddening as they can be at times.  I have a constant desire to write.  I answer the call to numerous muses; the thought of adhering to just one genre would be like having to choose one food on which to sustain myself for the rest of my life.  Writing sustains my soul, so I listen whenever the muses call, no matter what stories they have for me. 

I've been asked before where my ideas come from and why I write the genres I write, and my answer is always the same: "I believe in muses."  Sounds silly, I know, but I must give credit where credit is due.  Most of the stories I write would not fall under mainstream or popular fiction, but they do have an audience--and writing them is always thoroughly enriching and fulfilling, no matter how hellish some points of the process might be.  Most readers who do not write have never experienced the blissful, beautiful hell that comes with being a writer, the hours upon hours of typing, revising, editing, the writer's block, the eye strain....  Writers truly write because we must.  The muses can be demanding, however, and the stories if left ignored eventually build like steam in a boiling kettle.  They don't always come easily, but they demand to be written just the same.

Sometimes the muses play tricks, throw in twists in the last minute, or change parts of the storyline without advance warning.  For example, I found out Andy's pivotal role in the second The Darkness and the Night book only when the the muses disclosed it in the story: I had a moment of silent awe as the scene revealing him played out, and then I went back and read his scenes in the first book, Blood and Coffee, delighted with the twist.  I know I'm alone in this phenomonon, and I would love to hear from others on t.

Other writers, what are your experiences with the muses?  Readers, what is your take?
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Wells, Vonnegut, and many others wrote it.  The canonical literature list includes it.  It is the strongest possible way to write social commentary--and yet, here in the contemporary U.S., there seems to place for it.  The typical reader calls it "depressing."  Everyone seems to want that happy ending.  I sympathize with those who want a "happily ever after" in all thay they read, really I do; however, happy endings to not affect change.  They do not reflect the realities of life and society.  "Happily ever after," when it all comes down to it, only exists in fairy tales.  Yes, there is a place for it--but there is also a place for change, for gritty reality, and for statements about the complacency in society.

Many of my works break against the current trends, in the belief that mainstream fiction is primed once more for speculative, more intellectually stimulating works.  My novels are for an audience that is ready to be shocked, to be intrigued, and to be made to think about the world in a different way.  Yes, this can be depressing at times, but it is also necessary.  Without a focus on the negative, we cannot focus on creating the positive.  Without dystopia, all that remains is complacency.

So, what do you think?  Is America ready for something new and different?  Is America ready to think?  Ready to face reality?  Ready for change?  I think so ... but I'm interested in what you have to say about it.
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In response to an article I recently wrote for the Guide to Literary Agents Editor’s Blog, Miss S. stated, “Perhaps you could have a follow-up with more detail about building tension--and how?”  I thought Miss S.’s suggestion was a good one, definitely worth the follow-up, so today I dedicate my blog to the subject of building tension in erotic and romantic works.

Good tension begins with good character dynamics.

In both erotic and romantic writing, it is important to consider the way the characters are going to interact.  Ask yourself, “What is it that attracts your protagonists to one another?  What could potentially keep them apart?”  You want the romance to build gradually, waxing and waning in a natural progression, while also creating obstacles that threaten to destroy the relationship before it has a chance to climax.  Don’t be afraid to tease your audience; you want your readers to crave satisfaction just as desperately as you want your characters to crave one another.  If you give in too quickly, you might make later interactions less satisfying—but if you hold off for too long, you’ll lose your readers’ interest.

Balance is the key.

Just like any good story should be divided into three “acts,” a good erotic romance should be divided into a number of “episodes.”  In a typical plotline, Act I introduces the characters and whatever initial dilemma they are to overcome, Act II brings added intensity to that dilemma (often with the overcoming of the first dilemma, only for a larger one to arise in its place), and Act III moves the story to its climax and conclusion.  With romantic and erotic “episodes,” the romantic and/or sexual tension should rise and fall around every thirty to fifty pages.  Just like with the necessary resolution and additional dilemma found in the transition between acts, one should strive for romantic or sexual dilemmas between these episodes, offering resolution—or even some kind of minor release—only to build the tension even higher than before.  Mistaken identity, misconstrued words and/or actions, quarrels and reconciliations, and love triangles all work well to add to the building and dropping of romantic and sexual tension.
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Think of the building of romantic tension as written foreplay.

Words are powerful tools; use them to your best advantage.  Play with your readers’ senses.  Use words or phrases that appeal to the body or further arouse the imagination.  Your wordplay need not be overtly sexual to be sensual.




Consider the following poem:

A gently laced chain of words
awakens every sense;
colorful, sweet, musky, hard,
and symphonic offering, aching, needing.

The hot, dew-wet red rose
smells the fragrant hard wood
that penetrates deep into the earth,
expanding, tasting her soil,
and dancing to the sonata in the wind.

The above words use imagery in slow, sensual steps to build its readers.  If the poem were to continue, it is safe to say that the sexual tension would rise and fall through a series of several more stanzas, with the final lines bringing both the natural figures and their audience to climactic release.  Give your readers prose that takes them beyond their own bodies, while at the same time offering a holistic, full-body experience.  Tantalize their minds, make their bodies tingle, and then tease them with a twist of heartache or disappointment, only to build them and their expectations even higher than before.

And then, around the same time you’ve reached the climax of Act III, give your readers what they’ve been waiting for—sweet, beautiful, sensual release.
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From December's Vol 44 No 12 Forum magazine review:

Thanks to Twilight and True Blood, vampires are hot and sexy again, but while
Blood and Coffee taps into that trend it is definitely more of a horror fantasy
than a straightforward erotic novel. Many of the characters here come to grisly
ends, so it's not for the squeamish, but Lisa Lane manages to keep the action
moving at a relentless pace while detailing Karen's conversion from human to
vampire and all the dilemmas she faces along the way. This is the first part in
a trilogy, and there are enough clues as to how the action will progress to
ensure those who like a bit of gore with their sexual tension will hunt down the
second and third volumes.
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For more information on The Darkness and the Night series, visit Ravenous Romance or stop by my Erotica Page.

To read the full review, you'll have to find the back-order for Forum's December issue.

Happy reading!

Lisa
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Thanks to your votes, Lust in Space made the top 10 erotica novels for 2009 and The Darkness and the Night III: Twins of Darkness finished in the top 20 horror novels.  My thanks to all who showed their support!

The (tenative) final standings:

Erotica
1. Murder by Design, Jade Falconer, Phaze, [link]
2. Kilted Lover, Nicole North, Red Sage Publishing, [link]
3. Breaking The Covenants, Celina Summers and Rob Graham, Aspen Mountain Press, [link]
4. Scent of a Vampire, Jude Stephens, Hearts on Fire Books, [link]
4. Dommemoir, I.G. Frederick, Fanny Press, [link]
4. Only Pleasure, Lora Leigh, St. Martin's Griffin, [link]
5. Strangers, Barabara Elsborg - , Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication, [link]
6. Spell of Appalachia, Molly Wens, eXcessica, [link]
6. Eden's Hell, Dawné Dominique, Purple Sword Publications, [link]
7. Xylon Warriors IV: Ecstasy Bound, Ruth D. Kerce, Ellora's Cave, [link]
7. Internet Bonds #8: After Glow, Christy Poff, Whiskey Creek Press Torrid, [link]
8. Curfew, Samantha Stone, L&L Dreamspell, [link]
9. Lust in Space, Lisa Lane, Ravenous Romance, [link]
9. Sex Camp, Natalie Acres, Siren Publishing, [link]
9. The Janitor, Jan Irving, Loose ID, [link]
10. Location, Location, Location, Emma Hillman, eXcessica Publishing, [link]
10. Triad, Cat Grant, Lyrical Press, [link]

Horror
1. Rise Of The Darkness, C.A.Milson, Lulu, [link]
2. Armageddon Bound, Tim Marquitz, Damnation Books, [link]
3. The Great Right Hope, Mark Jackman, LL-Publications, [link]
4. Cursed, Jeremy C. Shipp, Raw Dog Screaming Press, [link]
5. Angels of the Mourning Light, Frank E. Bittinger, iUniverse, [link]
6. The Hollows, Ben Larken, LL-Publications, [link]
7. The Last Church, Lee Pletzers, Black Bed Sheet Press, [link]
8. War of the Worlds plus Blood, Guts and Zombies, Eric S. Brown, Coscom Entertainment, [link]
9. The Dark Path, Luke Romyn, Wild Child Publishing, [link]
10. Demon Hunter: The Chosen One, Cynthia Vespia, Aspen Mountain Press, [link]
11. Kelland, Paul G. Bens, Jr., Casperian Books, [link]
12. Cemetery Gates, Maryann Paige, Club Lighthouse Publishing, [link]
13. Escape: A Zombie Chronicles Novel, James Melzer, Permuted Press/Pocket Books, [link]
14. The Further Accounts of the Imaginary Friend, P.S. Gifford, Virtual Tales, [link]
15. Gentle Art of Making Enemies, Kevin Mellor, Black Bed Sheet Books, [link]
16. Blood of the Dark Moon, Adrianne Brennan, Freya's Bower, [link]
16. The Darkness and the Night III: Twins of Darkness, Lisa Lane, Ravenous Romance, [link]
16. The Kult, Shaun Jeffrey, Leucrota Press, [link]
17. White Witch, Black Curse, Kim Harrison, Eos, [link]
18. Dismember, Daniel Pyle, Wild Child Publishing, [link]
18. Shadows of Souls, Allan W. Azouz, L&L Dreamspell, [link]
19. Under the Dome, Stephen King, Scribner, [link]
19. Angels of the Deep, Kirby Crow, MLR Press, [link]
20. Shadows, Joan De La Haye, Rebel e Publishers, [link]

Romance
1. Babies in the Bargain, Mona Risk, The Wild Rose Press, [link]
2. The Benefactor, Margaret Reyes Dempsey, The Wild Rose Press, [link]
3. The Trouble With Playboys, Margaret Tanner, The Wild Rose Press, [link]
4. Clippings, A.J. Mirag, Lulu, [link]
5. Hostage Heart, Chelle Cordero, Vanilla Heart Publishing, [link]
6. Innocence Lost, Tiffany Green, The Wild Rose Press, [link]
7. The Third Wish, K. F. Zuzulo, Sapphire Blue Publishing, [link]
8. Fortune's Pride, Michele Stegman, Asylett Press, [link]
9. Creighton Manor, Karen Michelle Nutt, Tease Publishing LLC, [link]
10. Midnight Secrets, Lisa Rose Olick, Black Bed Sheet Books, [link]
11. Recipe For Love, Fiona McGier, Wings e-press, [link]
12. Spell of Appalachia, Molly Wens, eXcessica, [link]
12. Love Means No Shame, Andrew Grey, Dreamspinner Press, [link]
13. Another Time, Another Place, T. Sue VerSteeg, The Wild Rose Press, [link]
14. Beyond the Quiet, Brenda Hill, Vanilla Heart, [link]
15. Champagne, Inara LeVay, Ravenous Romance, [link]
16. A Chaunce of Riches, Chelle Cordero, Vanilla Heart, [link]
16. Honor Thy Neighbor, Valerie J. Patterson, BookStrand, [link]
17. Darkness Into Light, Christy Poff, Whiskey Creek Press Torrid, [link]
17. Unfolding the Shadows, Katie O'Sullivan, Cerridwen Press, [link]
17. Binding Vows, Catherine Bybee, The Wild Rose Press, [link]
18. All For A Fist Full Of Ashes, R. Ann Siracusa, Sapphire Blue Publishing, [link]
18. Timeless Mist, Terisa Wilcox, L&L Dreamspell, [link]
19. Branded By Fire, Nalini Singh, Berkeley Books, [link]
20. Vicus Luna, Jessica Coulter Smith, Wild Horse Press, [link]
20. Mistletoe and Holly, Marilyn Gardiner, Wings e-press, [link]
20. Lonely Soul, Mary Quast, Vanilla Heart Publishing, [link]
20. Circle of Eternity, Sandy Nicks, Vanilla Heart Publishing, [link]
21. Time For Love, Melissa Miller, IE Novel, [link]
21. Love in Space, Lisa Lane, Ravenous Romance, [link]
21. Hard Fall, James Buchanan, MLR Press, [link]

Congratulations to the winners!  For a full list of all of the categories, go to http://www.critters.org/predpoll/tally.ht
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