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The Rebels of Romance

KISS MY ACH-ERON Contest!

Acheron author Sherrilyn Kenyon with Rebels Marianne and Liz (wearing her Black Swan Posse shirt!)

Why?  Because we’re celebrating, dammit!  We’re celebrating the release of Marianne’s latest, Razor Girl.

And there’s a kicker: two books will go to a winner in the U.S., and the other two will go international.  That’s right, my foreign friends, real live signed hardcover copies of Acheron will be mailed to your home soil. 

Germany?  No problem.  Japan?  Absolutely.  UK?  Happy to oblige.  Australia?  No worries.  Zimbabwe?  Of course.  Anywhere.  We’re talking anywhere.  So when you enter, be sure to include in your post whether you are in the U.S. or International bucket.

Now for the rules:

1. Read the excerpts for Marianne’s Razor Girl and Liz’s Irreversible.
2. Post a comment on the contest page about the excerpts.  An example of a possible comment might be, “Oh, my god, that was the best excerpt I’ve ever read in my entire life.   You are brilliant.  I feel as though my life is now complete.”  Or perhaps, “The subtlety and nuance of your prose is reminiscent of the work of Nobel Prize Winner ___________.”
3. Go fix yourself something to eat and get some sleep; we’re not picking winners until August 25th.

If we do not hear back from the winner within five days of announcing the results, the prize may be awarded to someone else…gosh, that would be so sad.  Don’t let such a tragedy happen to you: stay tuned to the blog.  We’ve got plenty to keep you entertained!

Marianne and I have decided to run a contest, here on on The Rebels of Romance blog.  Simple enough, yeah? 

No.  This cannot be any ordinary contest.  This contest must be special.  And you know what’s special?  Sherrilyn Kenyon’s Acheron is special.  Signed Acheron is even more special.  And the most special-y-ist of all is Signed Acheron mailed out to both domestic soil AND far-flung nations (haallloooo, Australia!).  

So check back tonight for the rules.   ‘Cause a special contest has special rules.  (I’ll also post on Twitter when it’s ready.) 

Liz

The delightful lovely wonderful Barbara Vey, Publisher’s Weekly romance blogger extraordinaire, mentioned Liz and I and the Dorchester Live the Romance photography competition in her blog today. Go forth and comment!!

Marianne

Dorchester, the publisher behind the Shomi imprint, is running a costume contest and asked The Rebels to work up a funny video for the contest rules to post on their website.  Last night I ran the camera and tripod over to Marianne’s place and we filmed it.  (So much more convenient now that we don’t live on opposite coasts.) 

Marianne’s got on one of her amazing Gothic Lolita outfits from Japan.  I’m doing a more low-key space buccaneer sort of thing.  I don’t think you can see the kick-ass boots much, so the effect seems a little more Shannon Doherty than low-key space buccaneer.  I can’t believe that between the two of us, we didn’t have an eye-patch.  Doesn’t everybody?  Video’s super-cute, anyway.

So it was just another Saturday night. The kind that involves shattered martini glasses, talking rhinoceros heads, and frolicking about in various states of costume.

Marianne and I would rendezvous later at (I can’t believe I have to admit this) Jekyll & Hyde to celebrate the birthday of mutual friend Leanna Renee Hieber (or as I dubbed her a couple of drinks later, The Goth Princess).

Leanna, Goth Princess. Yeah, it’s my birthday. That a problem for you?

While Marianne was up North getting her pre-goth goth on, I traveled South to meet up with Megan Frampton for a cocktail before the party. We settled on The Blue Owl for no particular reason, and it turned out that all the drinks were named after bookish authors and characters.

I’m a sucker for an oddly named cocktail. I’m briefly reminded that I once ordered a drink called The Billionaire and the server freaked out saying that I was only the second woman to ever order the drink under her watch. I’m still not sure what that means, but I do recall thinking it was a perfect sort of aspirational choice. But, I digress.

At The Blue Owl, I ordered a Moneypenny. You can sort of see the other choices in the photo. (Let’s not discuss the odd shadowy protrusion in the snap.)

It was a brilliant citrus-centric drink which I followed with an even more brilliant drink that had an incredibly pretentious foreign name that translated roughly to I Will Drink This Substance And We Will Make Sweet Love Into The Night. All I know was that it had a fabulous ginger infusion and it knocked me sideways at which point I knocked it sideways and there we have the shattered martini glass I promised you.

Neither one of us wanted to leave The Blue Owl or its deeelightful bartender–he who was making us free ginger drinks–but a birthday is a birthday. Off Megan and I went to J&H.
Marianne has described Jekyll & Hyde’s over on her blog as a kind of goth Chuck E. Cheese, a concept that disturbs me greatly until I’m reminded that I really love The Bee Gees, and I have no right to judge anybody else’s taste in popular entertainment.

I shall simply share with you a few choice snaps of the decor.

And I guess you figured out that’s where the talking rhinoceros head comes in.

So after we’d wined and dined, we hit the pavement and headed to The Pyramid Club. Hardcore gothers Leanna and Marianne disappeared into what was either a basement dance floor or the depths of hell (you’ll have to ask one of them), while I stayed on the ground floor dance floor and danced with Megan, Stacey and Elizabeth and whoever else flitted in and out of the circle. Yes, we had ourselves some Tainted Love and, yes, we all felt very much Like a Virgin and I’ll be damned if we didn’t all have a White Wedding as well. In short, “There was muuuuusic. And daaaancing.”

Liz Maverick, with hat at rakish angle.

Elizabeth M, looking deceptively calm and poised.

Marianne Mancusi–you can barely see her adorable Harajuku purse with glow-in-the-dark lace.

Isabo K.–yes, she’s at the bar. I’m just saying.

Stacey A. I’m Not. That. Innocent.

Megan F. I don’t know why, but I have the urge to caption this photo, “Rawhide!”

Red pipe in the red line. NYC subway, the wee hours. The party is over. And we all sit in silence on a brightly lit subway car until we find ourselves home again.

By the way, did I mention that I saw my editor when I was out partying? Yeah. And my book was due a couple days after? Yeah.

Liz: Dude. That’s, like, so wrong in at least three or four different ways.

This is it, people. My very first edited video. (Um…woot?) Yes, this is from the raw Marianne brought over yesterday. She shot it on this teeny-tiny little purse video-cam sort of like the one Barbara “The Babs” Vey uses for her blog. The quality is kinda sketch, but maybe that’s something I did while rasteroptigeneracombobulating. It’s got hinks and jolts and futzs and wonks and glizms. And you’d think I could have used more than one piece of music…oh, and it seems to be lacking a narrative thread. But you know what? You’ve gotta start somewhere. You gotta just put it out there. (Sort of like a book you really don’t want to hand into your editor.) Okay, is that enough of a disclaimer for even the most perfectionist amongst us? (I mean, me.) Here goes…