Golden in Death is here! In Death #50 — quite a milestone, don’t you think? (Do you remember where you were when you read In Death #1?)
This is the space to discuss all things Golden, so spoilers straight ahead.
Golden in Death is here! In Death #50 — quite a milestone, don’t you think? (Do you remember where you were when you read In Death #1?)
This is the space to discuss all things Golden, so spoilers straight ahead.
In a first for me, we have the excerpt before the cover copy. Hideaway is Nora’s big book for the year and is out on May 26.
All I know is what Nora told me while she was writing it, but that’s about seven conversations spanning months. For now, here’s the one-sentence description:
A family ranch in Big Sur country and a legacy of Hollywood royalty set the stage for Nora Roberts’ emotional new suspense novel.
You’ll get more information from the first chapter, which you can find here: Chapter One
As of this writing, we’re 8 days away from Golden in Death (see? it wasn’t that long). In a FITS tradition, I’ll share some teasers about the book over the next few days.
As always, these will not spoil the plot, they are just some Easter Eggs (as they say in the film business) to look out for when you read.
A quick reminder of the plot:
Pediatrician Kent Abner received the package on a beautiful April morning. Inside was a cheap trinket, a golden egg that opened into two halves. When he pried it apart, highly toxic airborne fumes entered his body—and killed him.
After Eve calls the hazmat team—and undergoes testing to reassure herself and Roarke that she wasn’t exposed—it’s time to look into Dr. Abner’s past and relationships. Not every victim Eve encounters is an angel, but it seems that Abner came pretty close—though he did ruffle some feathers over the years by taking stands for the weak and defenseless. While the lab tries to identify the deadly toxin, Eve hunts for the sender. When someone else dies in the same grisly manner, it becomes clear that she’s dealing with either a madman—or someone who has a hidden and elusive connection to both victims.
MONDAY, JANUARY 27
Tuesday, January 28
Wednesday, January 29
Thursday, January 30
OK, gang, that’s it. Golden will be in your hands in four days!
Who doesn’t like a blank slate?
I don’t make new year’s resolutions because never going to keep them, but I like the idea of starting fresh. And that I can try to do.
It might be why I do a full-house purge every January. You gotta out with the old before you in with anything. Plus I find it incredibly satisfying. Boxes and bags of things someone else might use–and clean, tidy closets and shelves and drawers for me. [Please see Editor Note below]
But first, we had to end the old year.
We do that around here with a full day in the kitchen prepping for our annual New Year’s Day Open House. The fun part of the prep is having the kitchen full of girls.
Kayla shows up first, willing and able. I’ve already started the red beans–culling out a portion before I add the ham hock so my veggie girl and Kat can have some. And I’ve mixed up and rolled 108 meatballs now simmering in red sauce.
Yes, I said 108.
Laura comes bearing her InstantPot to boil the eggs for deviling. This, she tells me–and it bears out–cuts the time down, doesn’t require my magic solution to make the eggs come easily from the shells.
And here’s Sarah.
Sarah and Laura, InstantPot experts–deal with the eggs. I don’t like to think about pressure cooking as I have vivid memories of my mother’s old cooker exploding.
But this doesn’t happen.
Kayla’s making brownies for her trifle, I’m making whatever comes next–and Kat arrives with Griffin. He’s the most delicious thing in the kitchen.
We stir, chop, cook, mix. I’m doing a couple more veggie dishes this year, experimenting to see what goes over with the crowd.
We drink champagne while everyone pitches in.
It’s a long, busy, productive day, and how better to spend the last day of the decade than with people you love?
Kayla’s building her trifle, Kat’s creating a huge casserole of tortellini and cheese, Sarah and Laura are shelling three dozen eggs. I’ve got two big-ass hams in the oven, and my pal Ruth’s recipe for Party Potatoes to finish up. And a whole lot more.
Jason–who had a show rehearsal–arrives.
I’d emailed him in a panic the day before.
The saga is thus:
At the end of my work day, I go to back up on my flash drive before my workout. I get: MALFUNCTION!!! And something else that my shock has forgotten.
Okay, well, just reboot, it’ll be fine.
Okay, breathe. Try a new flash drive. And the screen goes black.
There is no breath as I hastily reboot, check if my work is still there (I’m talking 29 and a half chapters of a 30 chapter book.)
It’s still there, so okay.
Now let’s get out the Surface I use when traveling. Plug in the flash drive. And the keyboard won’t work.
I try everything (and send the panic email). I go to the desktop and Google, follow the instructions for what to do. Keyboard works.
For a minute. But even in that minute won’t read the drive. Not MALFUNCTION but INVALID.
I obsessively check, and my work remains intact. So I put all my faith in Jason and go workout.
An email from him when I check assures me all will be well. I’m already backed up on some other location. (I knew he did this, but I don’t understand it.) And he’ll figure things out when he gets here.
So he’s here, and he figures things out. Apparently–though he’d never experienced it–the little drive itself malfunctioned and screwed up everything.
He fixes, puts in (has to program I think as I use the ancient WP) another flash drive.
So I don’t have to end the year weeping and gnashing my teeth while cursing the cruel and capricious gods of technology.
Ah, sweet relief provided by the prince of all sons.
Meanwhile, my girls have to go. Much gratitude for the help and the company. Post-nap Griffin eats hearty, and as I added noodles and sauce to his meatballs, gets a sink bath.
BW is the only one with enough gas left to make it till midnight.
Happy New Year means Kat puts together her adorable veg crudite–this year with a little something extra for Colt and his pal CJ.
We have set up, we have making whatever needed to be made in the morning. We have Griffin to entertain–and be entertained by. We have dogs to chase out of the kitchen.
Then we have guests. Lots of guests. Lots of happy, lots of people, lots of noise, lots of food. An all-day deal with friends and family to ring it all in.
And happily, enough party leftovers that Kat and Jason can take enough home, and I have enough here none of us need cook this weekend.
And Monday, it’s the start of a well-earned week and the spa for all of us. With this year’s extra-special treat of Kat’s participation in Nemocolin’s art show.
We’re so proud of her! She’s already sold SIX paintings. She has a website. Shoot, what is her website? Laura, do you have it? I have book brain as I worked today in anticipation of a week not, or barely, working.
[Laura Knows All: www.katpong.com]
My house is de-holidayed–clean slate. The house purge will begin when I’m home from the spa. And I’m going to thoroughly enjoy a week of relaxing and cuddling Griffin.
My first, miserable draft (first drafts are always miserable for me) is done.
A nice start to the New Year. A nice page or two written on that blank slate.
I hope however you ended the decade made you happy. And whatever you write on the start of the new one brings you joy.
Editor note: I’ve posted Nora’s pieces about the whole-house purge for nearly 8 years. While it’s not my personal style, I admire her ruthless clear out of drawers, closets and cabinets in every room, on every floor. I see how that clean slate sets her up for the year.
But, I’m here to tell you that even the Mistress of the Purge misses some spots. After the December signing, Sarah decided she wanted some tea, something herbal. Nora doesn’t drink it, but she’s gifted tea all the time so she keeps it in one of the lower cabinets for guests who do. I was sitting in front of that cabinet on that December evening so I reached down and ran through the inventory to find a taste Sarah wanted.
Idly, I turned a package over and there it was: Expires 8/16. I picked up another, expiration date 2013. Another, 2017 (that was the freshest). Sarah was already steeping her tea as I started flinging tea out of the basket, announcing dates.
“Tea expires?” Nora asked. “Who knew?”
Me, for one. Sarah opted to live in ignorance, but since she didn’t expire herself, I can now reveal that she chose the oldest tea there — expiration 2006.
I tossed three boxes then and there, proclaiming that the 2020 purge was now underway. Nora’s sworn all tea will be gone the second week of January. I will bring a fresh (truly) assortment for the Golden in Death signing.
It’s nice to know she’s human. <g>
Laura’s note: To frame what Nora discusses here, please refer to this post on All About Romance. The author does an excellent job of laying out the timeline to the current situation.
To clarify: I’m not on Twitter. I haven’t been a member of Romance Writers Of America for several years. Those are both personal and professional decisions.
Even so, it’s been impossible not to be aware of the horrendous situation involving RWA, its leadership and Courtney Milan which, as it escalated, brought to light a long-standing and systemic marginalization of authors of color, of LGBTQ authors, by the organization.
I’m not going to comment on the Milan/RWA situation, but on what–through that–has come to light.
What I write here is my opinion. Some will agree, some won’t, some will be angry, some won’t. That’s how opinions work.
Writer, the middle word in Romance Writers of America, is a word without gender, a word without color or race, a word without sexual orientation, without creed. We’re writers, and as such must expect to be treated, must demand to be treated, fairly and equitably by our professional organization.
What follows is the viewpoint of a long-time member.
I joined RWA in 1980 (wow!). I attended the first conference in 1981 just a couple months after my first book came out. It was wonderful. I met my dearest pal Ruth Langan at that conference, and many others who’ve remained friends all these years.
RWA gave me a community, and though I have never been active in its leadership (nor did I want to be!) I attended every conference save two for decades. The organization was formed to provide support, education, networking opportunities, to stand as advocates for writers, published and unpublished.
I’m grateful for the community, the friendships, the opportunities.
Was the organization perfect? Of course not, but I felt, certainly in those early years, it tried very hard to support, educate, advocate and offer networking opportunities. I didn’t see marginalization–and fully admit I may have been blind to it–until many years in when the leadership crafted a statement defining romance as one man/one woman.
For me anyway, this came out of the blue. Who decided this was our statement? It sure as hell wasn’t mine, and surely we’d all evolved by–what was it–abut 2005.
A great many members were outraged by it–as they should have been. I certainly was, and took the rare for me step of writing a letter expressing same to the editor of the Romance Writers’ Report. We do NOT discriminate. I would not be a part of this kind of discrimination against the LGBTQ community. Jesus, it’s fine to have a character fall in love with a freaking vampire, but not someone of the same sex? Bullshit. Just bullshit.
Offensive, bigoted, homophobic bullshit.
I received an email from the then president urging me to be quiet, basically, explaining to me–and I am not kidding–I didn’t understand that the lesbians would take over RWA. Jeez, those terrifying lesbians!
After my brain stopped exploding, I emailed back telling her they could publish my letter–as written–or I would take out a full page ad to publish it.
If memory serves, it appeared as a letter to the editor in the next issue of the RWR.
That was a real crack in the wall for me, and left me disappointed and angry with the organization.
It was during this leadership era I began to see some pretty deep problems within RWA. This same president was in office during the Reno nightmare. I’m not going to go into all that here, just Google it, but I withdrew as MC of the awards banquet and again wrote a long, detailed letter. I think–not sure–this time I did take it as an ad.
I’ll say all of that put longer, wider cracks in the foundation for me. I nearly resigned my membership then, but decided to keep it. I went to conference, but now almost exclusively to be with friends, to see people I only saw once a year, to attend the kick-ass Harlequin party and attend the brilliant Literacy Signing.
But I thought, I believed, with leadership change, the organization was doing better, trying harder. I didn’t see the marginalization, and I regret that. I could have been a voice, and I wasn’t.
For several years our family foundation sponsored the Literacy Signing. Literacy is one of our foundation’s primary goals. My daughter-in-law, the amazing Kat, worked with the committee in charge to help enhance efficiency, and put a lot of her time and effort into it.
The Literacy Signing was the annual conference’s big kick-off, drawing many, many authors who signed their books, publishers who donated those books, many, many readers who bought books–and the proceeds went to Literacy.
This night was a source of pride–RWA was making a difference.
Bookending this week of workshops, hang out at the bar time, meetings, parties, networking was Awards Night. The last night, always a big celebration–published and unpublished. The Golden Heart Awards for the unpublished, the Rita for the published. And the Lifetime Achievement Award to a member who’d earned it.
I received a letter, through Laura, from the Board between the last conference I attended, in San Diego, and the next–can’t remember where it was slated to be held. Wait–Orlando, I think.
They’d voted to change the set up for conference week, and claimed to want my input–though they’d already voted and intended to announce the changes in about 24 hours. The Literacy signing would now be at the end of the conference–on a Saturday afternoon. The RITAs would be in the middle of the week, and the Golden Hearts presented at a lunch.
I get change, I understand change, but I felt–still do–this was stupid. And worse, imo, the Golden Hearts, the unpublished, were being tossed aside. Not right, not fair, not equitable. Why do this? And WHY make the unpublished feel they didn’t really count? The Rita/Golden Heart Banquet was our send off, our night to celebrate each other and the books we write. The Literacy Signing, always held on the evening before the conference officially started, drew huge crowds, and brought in impressive amounts for Literacy.
The unpublished members deserved their night to shine.
As the sponsor of the Literacy Signing, we should have had a little more warning of the decision, but we didn’t.
And in response to my response, it was basically: Done deal. We’ve decided the conference should be more reader-centric rather that author-centric.
And that did it. Romance WRITERS of America, not readers. We love our readers, we value our readers, but this was the professional organization for writers. Published and unpublished.
I resigned my membership. We pulled out as sponsor.
In the time since then and now, I haven’t paid too much attention to what’s going on with RWA or its membership. I’m not especially active on social media, so a lot would go over my head anyway.
This latest issue hasn’t.
Again, I regret all the years I didn’t hear, didn’t see, didn’t listen, remained unaware of all the sad and unfair things that are now coming to light.
I hope that light continues to shine, and by doing so may change RWA for the good, may remind those in leadership positions what the purpose was all those years ago. To support and advocate for romance writers. Not specific kinds of romance writers.
Let me add, as a personal note, that over the course of my life, the course of my career, the couple hundred books I’ve written, I may have–most likely have–said or done or written something that was offensive, racist, homophobic. Without intent–but intent doesn’t mean a damn to those hurt. So I’ll apologize without qualification.
I hope I’ve learned along the way. I intend to continue to learn and do better.
It feels like publishing moves faster than any other business these days — we know about books so far in advance! As of this afternoon St. Martin’s Press has rolled out the pre-order links for Nora’s 2020 fall books.*
Nora’s currently writing The Awakening — book 1 in a new trilogy. She already finished Shadows in Death (#51). I know nothing about either title at this point, but covers and descriptions will be revealed in the spring.
For now, let the wondering commence.
*I have no doubt the Little Brown UK links will be live early next year. It’s just the US that’s this far ahead. But no fear, the books will be available under the same titles.
And to keep it all in line, this is the 2020 lineup:
All your Golden In Death order options can be found here.
Pre-order links for Hideaway can be found here.
Shadows in Death
Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/2Pss26Z
Apple Books: https://apple.co/36FgVi2
Apple Books: https://apple.co/2S4kkCY
Barnes & Noble/Nook links coming soon!
And it has been–almost all the way.
A couple of weeks ago, we have our traditional girl trip–two days with pals at Tyson’s in VA shopping, hanging out, exchanging gifts and just being pals.
Jason and Griffin join us the second day for the stupendous lunch the team at Saks puts on for us. The boy is quite the star! And my beloved Azita–whom I’ve worked with for . . . God, it must be a decade now–never fails to put together clothes that suit me so well. (This means a mini closet purge when I got home, but I have no regrets!)
Last weekend Turn The Page joined Holiday In Boonsboro with a massive, happy signing. Lots of readers, lots of books, lots of holiday spirit in a town all decked out. We have a great group of authors and fabulous, patient readers who stay cheerful through a five hour event.
On Sunday we hold another event focused on kids, and there’s nothing, just nothing as heart-stirring as watching a child light up when Santa ho-ho-hos into the room.
I store up that joy and spirit to get me through Monday and dental implant, take two. Okay, that isn’t a wonderful time, and the weather agrees by turning raw and rainy. Just a little bonus.
But that’s done.
I have to skip my workouts for a week–sore, swollen jaw and my own worry about raising my bp too high in the early healing stage. But that’s done, too, as I–finally–got a good one in this morning.
Still, not breaking to hit the gym means a longer writing day Tues, and that’s nice.
Wednesday, a shorter one as BW and I host our employees at our annual Progressive Shopping Night–with dinner on us at Vesta to cap it off. It’s not only fun, but it gives everyone a chance to see what the other businesses have to offer, and the opportunity to mix and mingle.
Then my pal and business manager JoAnne and Laura and I stay overnight at the inn. Pour the champagne; we’re not driving! And after a fun night, an amazing breakfast, I head home to work.
A full day of that on Thursday–yay–then another shortened work day as I’m hosting my annual Managers’ Holiday Party here at home. With the exception of our fabulous Robert at Vesta, all our managers are women. Maybe, feeling outnumbered, Robert skips this event, so it’s a few hours with girls.
Saturday is cooking baking marathon. Kayla’s definitely head baker here now. Just her and Colt to bake this year, and she’s all over it!
I make the sugar cookie dough early so it chills while she–with her able assistant, Colt–deal with the rest. While she’s making chocolate chip, peanut butter blossoms, candy cane kiss cookies, I make a pot of chickpea vegetable soup for the vegetarian. And potato and ham for BW and me.
First time with this veg soup, which I blend from a couple recipes and Kayla’s choices. She tries a bowl for lunch. Has seconds, so it definitely worked! She has another bowl at dinnertime, and took the rest with her.
Onto painted sugar cookies, and BW joins in. A friend gave me dinosaur cookie cutters, and Colt is all about them. So we have Christmas dinos along with the Santas and bells and stars.
I should add we all taste test along the way–every type. My girl’s become an exceptional baker. And I’m going to need those workouts even though I sent the kids home with a major supply.
Today, at last, a workout so I feel more like myself. Kayla’s come up to wrap for me for a couple hours–bless her heart! Since we ran out of steam before snickerdoodles (and they’re one of her faves) I’ll bake those shortly.
With the help she’s given me on wrapping this year, I should only have one short session remaining.
My house needs a good shoveling out as it’s been a really busy week, but once that’s done, it’s done.
We have leftover soup, plenty of cookies, and a house that’s ready for Christmas.
I hope you’re all enjoying the holiday season as much as we are!
Note from Laura:
Took this when I headed home from Nora’s Saturday morning. Nothing like muted colors and a dreamy scene.
November blurred by, and now December’s decided to blow in with wicked winds, chilly rain and gloom. I’m hoping that improves.
For all its speed, November was pretty packed around here–which may be why it seemed to whiz.
BW and I had our November week at the spa–joined for a couple days this year by Jason, Kat and the ultra-adorableness of Griffin. Kat was invited to participate in Nemocolin’s Nov-Feb art show! She brought up the paintings she chose for it–it’s an animal theme–and they’ll hang until February.
We’re so proud of her! And her talent gave us more Griffin time.
This is always a working trip for me so that’s early workout, then butt in the chair until mid afternoon. A reward of a lovely treatment, then a meal someone else cooked.
Always a good deal.
Home again, and a lovely Sunday at a sweet baby shower for me.
And boom, it’s Girls’ Night Out in Boonsboro. Always a fun time–and a little extra special as Kayla joined us. Serious fun to hit some of the Main Street shops with my girl.
Blink, and it’s time to prep for Thanksgiving.
Pies! Pretzel rolls! All baked on Wednesday. Apple sauce, cranberry sauce–also on Wednesday’s list.
And Thursday’s the cooking extravaganza. A little different this year as my girl’s now a vegetarian. So in addition to my traditional sausage stuffing I did an apple and raisin stuffing (dressing) with veggie broth in a casserole. And a lot of roasted veggies I hadn’t tried before.
Kayla wasn’t coming around until Friday, for leftover and pie (especially pie) but I wanted her to have plenty of choices. And Kat and Jason made a vat of mac and cheese as it’s one of her favorites.
I made roasted beets! And am very glad I looked up how to peel those suckers so learned to use gloves and a plastic cutting board. It’s CSI time with beets. But Jason–very fond of them–gave the finished product a thumb’s up.
We had so much food we set it up buffet style rather than on the table.
Griffin and the dogs continue their love affair. In fact when he woke up in the middle of the night on Thursday, they raced up to make sure his parents weren’t torturing him. And that, at 1:30 a.m. was that. I come out when I hear the whole gang troop down the stairs.
The dogs in heaven with some middle of the night play. Griffin–toddling now–drunkenly walking across the room to them. Daddy keeping the dogs relatively calm, Mama patiently reading the boy his Baby Shark book until he finally gives it up.
I make sure to shut the dogs in our bedroom.
Twice before the little family gets up on Friday morning I have to stop Atticus from heading up. I literally hear him sigh when I catch him and say: Nope.
More Griffin time for me on Friday. Jason and BW haul all the Christmas stuff up from the storage shed. It’s early decorating for me as this is my only free weekend.
And here’s Kayla for those leftovers. More thumb’s up (not the beets, but everything else.)
When Jason and his fam pack up to head home, Kayla stays awhile and helps me decorate. She’s off to NY for a cross-country run. (Brr!)
I finish it up, and enjoy having my house look so festive.
Yesterday a four-hour wrapping marathon with wonderfully silly Christmas movies.
Today, workout done, I’m sneaking in time to write this. If Kayla has any energy left after her whirlwind trip to The Bronx and her run, she’ll come up and wrap for me. Otherwise, I’m back at it.
Then I pack for our annual girl holiday trip. Two days of shopping, champagne and girl pals. A lovely way to kick off the season.
December’s packed, too. Our Holiday Signing’s next Saturday, an annual party next Sunday. I have my tooth implant replacement on Monday–ugh. This is the dark spot in a bright month, but it’ll be–hopefully–over and done as there are two more events that week.
I expect Christmas to come rushing at me, but I’m ready for it.
For those of you who wait for the entire trilogy, your time is nigh. (OK for the rest of us who read them as they are released, YOUR time is nigh as well.)
Here’s the cover copy:
In a world after the Doom destroyed civilization, magick is commonplace and Fallon Swift spent her young years learning its ways. Fallon can’t live in peace until she frees those who are prey for the government or the fanatical Purity Warriors, endlessly hunted or locked up in laboratories, brutalized for years on end.
Strengthened by the bond she shares with her fellow warrior, Duncan, Fallon has already rescued countless shifters and elves and ordinary humans. Now she must help them heal—and rediscover the light and faith within. For although from the time of her birth, she has been The One, she is still only one. And as she faces down an old nemesis, sets her sights on the enemy’s stronghold, and pursues her destiny—to finally restore the mystical shield that once protected them all—she will need an army behind her.
This is the place to discuss TROM and all things Chronicles of The One. So please be ware — spoilers straight ahead.
Enjoy the discussion!
Fifty is a pretty hefty number, don’t you think? And Golden in Death meets that milestone extremely well.
Here’s the book jacket copy:
Pediatrician Kent Abner received the package on a beautiful April morning. Inside was a cheap trinket, a golden egg that could be opened into two halves. When he pried it apart, highly toxic airborne fumes entered his body—and killed him.
After Eve calls the hazmat team—and undergoes testing to reassure herself and Roarke that she hasn’t been exposed—it’s time to look into Dr. Abner’s past and relationships. Not every victim Eve encounters is an angel, but it seems that Abner came pretty close—though he did ruffle some feathers over the years by taking stands for the weak and defenseless. While the lab tries to identify the deadly toxin, Eve hunts for the sender. But when someone else dies in the same grisly manner, it becomes clear that she’s dealing with either a madman—or someone who has a hidden and elusive connection to both victims.
Here, without further ado, is the first chapter of Golden in Death.