On Writing & Publishing by Robin D. Owens

Personal notes on writing techniques, writing a novel, my writing career and threading your way through publishing a book.

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Location: Denver, United States

RITA Award Winning Author -- that's like the Oscar, folks! Futuristic/Fantasy Romance and Fantasy with Romantic Subplots.

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Tuesday, December 26, 2006

Excerpt and Quiche

I made quiche for the family Christmas brunch. Actually I made two, but one turned out to be a doomed one that was removed early, cooked again, and finally must have been dumped when I put it on top of the car then drove off. Anyway, I've never been able to figure out why quiche is considered a girly food.

Here's an excerpt from my contemporary paranormal romance Novella, The Road of Adventure in the anthology What Dreams May Come -- it takes place in a grocery store: Jake is the hero shopping for an afternoon date with Shauna, the heroine, and Boris is a ghost cat... HAPPY HOLIDAYS!

Boris abandoned his seat to press his nose against the freezer door. Then his whole head went through the glass. It gave Jake the creeps. Probably unsanitary, too.

When Boris’s voice came, it was oddly muffled. “Shauna likes this stuff.”

Jake jerked open the door. “What?”

Boris extended a paw to tap a frozen crust.

“Quiche,” Jake grumbled. “Should have known. This will never work out.” Not that any affair lasted longer than a couple of months after the sex got average, and a guy shouldn’t really expect more. Hadn't wanted more. Now he did, with Shauna.

He recalled the look in Shauna’s eyes when she stared at him, wide and soft and interested. He got the fancy quiche and studied it. It had eggs, cheese and bacon. How bad could it be? Looking at the instructions, he realized all he had to do was heat the oven and put it in, just like pizza only a little longer. He tossed it in the basket.

“Careful,” said Boris. “The crust can crumble and break.”

“Huh.” Jake guessed so. He took the quiche out of the cart, set it back on the shelf, and got a new one he placed carefully on the pizza.

Back on his seat, Boris scowled. “There is no Cat food in the basket.”

May you enjoy reading your own writing today.


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