Trailer Thursday: Michelle Buonfiglio and Fabio

Michelle Buonfiglio Week continues here at The Morgan Diaries. We're having all kinds of fun this week, including great vids and a completely candid and fun Interview coming up tomorrow. Don't miss a day!

Today Michelle is hanging at Romance B(u)y the Book (there's a link off to the right! >>) with Author Jo Davis who is leading us on a special day paying tribute to real-life American heroes. You can share with us your special 9/11 commemorations or stories about roles heroes have played in your lives.

Freedom isn't Free.

God bless our Troops and the United States of America.

Guest Blogger: Michelle Buonfiglio

Get Your Happy On

A couple months ago, my husband hooked me up with Sirius radio in my car. I don’t get to drive sans kidlets too often, but when I do, you’d recognize me as the middle-aged chick driving with the roof yawning and the Pulse blasting.

The Pulse, is Sirius’ “90s and Today” channel. My kids love the 80s channel, but I have too many nasty flashbacks of my Flashdance/Madonna wannabee period and can’t listen for fear I’ll drive (or swerve the car purposely) off the road.

Anyways, today I’m listening and this song comes on (“Accidentally in Love” from “Shrek 2”) and absolutely tosses me headfirst into a Big ol’ Happy.

You know the Big ol’ Happy? It’s when a song or something strikes your fancy and revs up your spirit. Suddenly, you’re smiling and feeling pretty much like you can do anything, even get those 10,000 pages read and 10,000 words written in the month of September that you set as your goal in the Unleash Your Story (UYS) Read-and-Write-a-Thon for Cystic Fibrosis.

See, over at RBTB, we’re making up a team (TEAM RBTB) to participate in UYS, and I figured, heck, since I write everyday anyway – and read as part of my gig – I might as well set a decent goal. Please check out TEAM RBTB’s UYS page, and decide how you might help, too.

Now, 10k words is pretty easy with my job reqs. But 10k pages? Depending on length, that’s around 30-35 books. Read. In a month.

Well, it’s a rough job, but somebody’s gotta, etc., etc. The job, I mean, of getting paid to read romance novels. Actually, it’s kinda blissful, and I was reminded of that today when I was describing to someone what I do for a living. She said, “I can feel the passion you have for your work, for the books and the community of women.”

And I realized that, yeah, I really am passionate about it, even after three years. But sometimes, with job stress and petulant technology and kids who want to eat every day, damn them, I forget how happy I feel when I crack open a really great romance.

Tooling down an Illinois highway today, with Counting Crows cranked and the big, Midwestern sky overhead, I remembered how happy – and lucky – I am to do what I do, live as I do, love as I do. And if that ain’t enough to get my happy on, I don’t know what is.

What gets your happy on?

Romance Reviewer: Michelle Buonfiglio

Today is the beginning of Michelle Buonfiglio week at The Morgan Diaries!

The fabulous Michelle is known for her blog, Romance B(u)y the Book, now a part of myLifetime. We caught up with her and, using our signature charm, we talked her into playing with us this week.

Since today is Trailer Trash Tuesday, we have a video with FABIO. Yes, we got her to give up the goodies!

Check back tomorrow for her blog, another trailer with Fabio on Thursday and then an interview the way only we can do it.

A History Mystery: Day One / Part Two

The Personal Journals of Morgan Victoria Beauchamp

Friday, October 24

Dearest Papa,

For the first time since you challenged me to keep these journals some twenty years ago, I actually have something exciting to write about. No, not another cataloging of my research – though past journals were most useful in helping me compile my academic paper, The True Pirates of the Caribbean and Gulf of Mexico – but rather, a personal account. How few of those have there been over the years? Nothing worthy of the grand romance story you’d always wanted for me. Until tonight.

Mid-terms are over and they followed the pattern of all other mid-term periods of my life, first as student, now as professor. After these past ten years, I’m not sure being the professor grading the mid-terms is much better than being the student taking them. Alas, the exams are done and mostly graded. Tomorrow I’ll finish and have the scores uploaded well before Monday. Feeling fairly good about this accomplishment – not to mention the publication of my paper in Archeology Today – I let Ruth and Dagmar persuade me to join them for a night of bar hopping in the French Quarter. Pretending to randomly select a bar, they led me into one of the darkest where a few more colleagues were drinking with some of the grad students. My own assistant, the roguish Mattias, was there. Oh, if I were ten years younger I’d be tempted to let him chase me around my desk a time or two. Well, that was before tonight.

In a mood to party once my initial annoyance passed, I forgave my kidnappers for stealing me from my usual plans of a quiet night with a good book and hot bath. The music was loud, the drinks just right and I let myself be carried away by both. I’m still vibrating from the effects. I feel alive in a way I’ve only felt a few times. I can scarcely catch my breath even now.

This isn’t sounding like me is it? Normally my entries are to the point and dry enough to absorb a gallon of water, but not tonight. I’m sure I’ll look back someday and see this night as pivotal. I don’t know what happened, but something is different. And it has to do with him.

Him? You may ask. Him, who? That’s just it. I don’t know.

With hindsight, I can see now that I knew the instant he entered the bar. No, he didn’t draw attention, not in the way a famous person would. There were no cameras flashing or fans racing toward him. But rather, all at once, it felt as if a breeze had entered the bar, taking down the temperature a degree or two. As hot as it was, the change was refreshing. It was also then that I gave in to Mattias and let him lead me to the dance floor. I know it’s wrong to encourage him in any way, but I wanted to dance and he had his hand out. I ignored the twitters of my colleagues and found myself in his arms. Lord is he strong, and very sexy. The boy can dance, and that smile, all golden sunshine with his overlong curls and scruffy three day whiskers. Moving to the beat felt natural, but I wasn’t dancing for Mattias. No, there was brooding presence in the shadows and it pulled my attention from Mattias despite the fact I was practically using him as a dancing pole.

At one point I turned and for a long moment, several heartbeats I’m sure, my gaze locked with the dark eyes of a dark haired man. All he needed was a pointed beard, long curly hair, a big hat with a bigger feather and a change of costume and he could have been my dream pirate. Yes, I swear, he looked as if he could be a long lost descendant of the very wicked Jean Baptiste Morgane.

I’m well aware you’d say my obsession has grown to be a little scary. If he were a live man today, I’d probably be stalking him. Pathetic, I know.

But after staring into the eyes of this man from only a few yards away, I swear on a stack of pirate romance novels, my life changed. Exactly how and what will happen from here onward, I don’t know. I just know something changed tonight.

Needless to say, dancing with Mattias, or anyone else, lost all appeal after that. By the time I’d freed myself from the spin Mattias had pulled me into, my mystery man was gone and the refreshing chill left the room. Disappointed and feeling claustrophobic again, I made my excuses and came home.

The solitude of home has not brought me peace. I’m feeling edgy and restless, just the way I do at the start of a new research project. I’ll try the bath next, and maybe a glass of wine, but what I really want is to go out and find my pirate. I just hope he isn’t a ghost tormenting me for seeking out his secrets.

A History Mystery: Day One / Part One

From the memoirs of Jean Baptiste Morgane

Friday, October 24th

I saw her again tonight.

This can be no simple happenstance. My first encounter with Morgan Beauchamp, Ph.D, Professor of Archeology and History, had been to settle my own personal curiosity. When I saw the announcement of her lecture concerning the Pirates of New Orleans, my first inclination had been to ignore it as I had the countless others seeming to spring up at the drop of a hat. Something impelled me to fight off the sluggishness of my existence and I found myself in the crowded lecture hall in spite of my misgivings. Call it a mild case of boredom gone wrong or whatever you wish.

My lethargy abruptly ended the moment she stepped up to the podium. Never before had I seen a woman more entrancing. Not even Diabolique could compare to her. I know I swore to never mention that despicable creature’s name, but the sight of this vision wiped the memory of the witch’s infamy from my brain. Long flowing curls the color of ebony fell against a face that defied the perfection of a Botticelli or Michelangelo. My skin grew warm as her verdant green eyes swam over me. I know well in that crowded room, her gaze took no more notice of me than if I were a fly upon the wall. Still, I could not fight the delusional wish that she saw me, took some small notice of me as something other than a body held under her thrall.

For as she spoke, an age long dead came alive for me. I could once again feel the gentle spray of salt against my flesh, the warmth of the sun beating down on my brow as the flapping canvas sang its siren call above me. All the sensations I had long ago buried came flooding over me. If the ability to weep had been left to me, I am quite sure I would have done so, so strong were the emotions she had invoked.

When her lecture came to an end, I quietly made my way from the room. The urge to approach her had been so strong, I knew if I had stayed, the outcome would be abhorrent to me. I have grown so cold, even the simplest of human contact would be best denied to me. Only too well do I know attachments of a personal nature never end in anything but tragedy. Instead of tempting fate, I merged with the shadows that have become my life and fled like some wayward urchin into the night.

Even so, this newest encounter left me shaken. Since that first night, I have made it a point to avoid all thoughts of Morgan Beauchamp and the feelings she awakened within me, an arduous task that served as a fitting tribulation for my sins. Upon leaving my home, I had no intention of seeking her out. Whatever infatuation she holds for me, I know in my heart no future exists for either of us if I continue to seek her out. Only damnation waits down that path.

My lonely travels brought me to a bustling night club on the outskirts of the French Quarter. Don’t ask me to record here the exact location, for the haze of seeing her erased all coherent thoughts from my brain. What insanity drove me to enter the abode eludes me. The rhythmic pounding of the music, too loud to be civilized, filled the shadow strewn street like a dense fog. Perhaps some outbreak of melancholy afflicted me. For whatever reason, I entered the den of iniquity knowing full well I would regret the experience.

The crush of bodies filled me with a certain amount of revulsion. Even in life, I had never been one to relish the press of humanity around me. Perhaps that was the cause of me seeking out the sea so young in life. The impulse to flee overcame me. If not for a chance glimpse of her, I would have disappeared to normal haunts.

Yet, once sighted, the vision of her held me rooted. The twinkling of her laughter wafted to me from the bar. She seemed so full of life. I ached to be numbered among those surrounding her, hanging on her every word, twittering to some comment spoken in jest. It became too much. How could I bear being this close and not know even those most human of actions?

I turned to go but her eyes lighted upon me. She saw me clearly, no chance look. I could feel her gaze bore into me. Her mouth opened as if she wanted to speak to me across the distance. I hesitated, waiting like some foolish fop for her to acknowledge me with more than a glance. My feet propelled me toward the bar. I imagined the taste of her rich upon my lips. Against my better judgment, I saw the possibility of us together. It frightened and thrilled me at the same time.

The unspoken want of her overruled whatever common sense left to me. Moving toward her, I broke my way through the writhing bodies littering the dance floor like flies dancing above a corpse. I breached the crowd only to see her in the arms of another man. My heart boiled with more anger than I’d felt since that whore Diabolique cursed me with her dying breath, my hands tight about her throat.

The happiness on her face sent me flying from the club. I’d be a fool to even consider the folly of allowing the chance of loving her into my brain. Coming here had been a mistake.
I had long ago purged the excesses of such establishments from my life for a very good reason. The need to interact with my food had perished along with my need to adhere to the pretence of being alive. As one of the glorious dead, I see no reason to play the charade many of my younger brethren revel in. If I continue to cling to the false hope of a humanity I no longer have, Morgan Beauchamp will suffer for my weakness.

I am vampyre. Death on two legs, pure and simple.

A History Mystery - Pirates of New Orleans

In a coup of epic proportions, The Morgan Diaries have gotten our grubby little hands on the memoirs of the infamous New Orleans pirate, Jean Baptiste Morgane.

As most of you probably know, Jean Baptiste's career of ravishing and plundering was cut mysteriously short during the late 1700s when he disappeared in the Caribbean and was never heard from again. This, his final journal, reveals what truly happened to the legendary buccaneer.

Join us as over the next two months as we post excerpts from his journal. At the same time, to help us delve into the mystery, we have Dr. Morgan Beauchamp of Tulane University, the leading source on pirates of New Orleans, Morgane in particular. She is also known as the person responsible for unearthing the lost journal of Jean Baptiste Morgane. We are excited to have her unique insight into this enigma of American history.

In a blog event sure to create a stir, this is something you definitely don't want to miss. And as Halloween draws near, Morgan O and J Morgan will be offering a chance to you, our readers, to get into fun. Stay tuned to The Morgan Diaries for information on the details.

Interview: Savannah Chase

Today we track the elusive Savannah Chase, author and the downfall of many a good man. In the Morgan Diaries World Tour we go from Colorado to the wilds of Canada for this one. And we mean wild! So where does Savannah Chase while away her time away from writing sizzling romance? Fitting with the heat of her stories, we started hitting the Club Scene. We finally tracked her down to an exclusive all-male review outside of Toronto.

Through a smoke filled haze we saw her sitting center stage feeding dollar bills to a Cowboy named Rex. With Jmo blushing, MorganO, dragged him to the stage, while pulling out a wad of fives. Savannah’s occasional snarl kept the crowds away, but we were able to get close because she was sort of expecting us. Of course, she put her switchblade away after MorganO promised to leave Rex to her.

TMD: Savannah, thanks for agreeing to meet with us. We love your choice of the setting. Well, MorganO does. Jmo just wishes people would stop shoving dollars down his pants and yelling, “Shake it pretty dancer.”

SC: So you tracked me down…Rex told me you’re looking for me, and that he had given me up… His punishment will come later on…*evil grin*

JMo, you must shake it. Come on do it for me *bats eyelashes* Get down with your hot self!

By the way, Rex said he’d teach you a few numbers. He’s even got the perfect outfit for you. He gave me a sneak peek at it…

TMD: The office girl and the construction guy. Hot!!! Could you tell our readers a little about this tale of love up for the highest bidder?

SC: Nico’s history of romantic disasters has taught her when she gambles on men, she’s fated to lose. That doesn’t stop her from secretly lusting after Jeff, the handsome construction worker she sees everyday on her way to work.

When the New York’s Sexiest Bachelor auction begins and Jeff comes up on the block, she’s seriously tempted to place a bid. The wager can’t be taken lightly — it might be for a good cause, but she’s making a bid for love…

TMD: Bid for love is really a tender love story. So how did this wild woman write a story about a sweet girl in NYC?

SC: This wild woman has a sweet side. I’m a hopeless romantic at heart. I think every woman deserves her own prince charming.

TMD: The premise of the book revolves around a bachelor auction. Have you ever been to one yourself? And how much did you have to spend to get the bachelor of your dreams?

SC: This is no surprise to most of you, but yeah I have been to one. It was a long time ago. I was in high school, and the hunky bachelor athletes were being auctioned off. The winner would get them as a slave for the week. No, not that kind of slave… Sheesh. This was high school -- LOL My dream hunk wasn’t on the block so I never bid. If he had been, I would have bid for sure.

TMD: When you’re writing, how much of yourself do you put into your heroines? And what traits inspire you to come up with such terrific heroes for them?

SC: When I bring my heroines to life I want them to be real, and someone who every woman can relate to. I make them someone people will love from the start. When it comes to heroes, I make them men who I think are terrific. I give them qualities that I look for, and think make a man sexy and desirable. They are not always perfect, and might have a flaw, but that’s life. Nobody’s perfect.

TMD: Just to be nosy. MorganO not me. The nipple ring, was that from personal experience? We did say you were the wild woman of romance.

SC: I plead the fifth on that…LOL

TMD: Got to say one of the most memorable scenes had to be the speeding date one. Lots of room for misunderstanding. Have you ever taken part in one?

SC: I haven’t had the chance but have heard a lot about them. Friends would also suggest I try them. I have thought about it. Maybe it will be something to try in the future. For now I have Rex to keep me occupied. Believe me, he’s a handful...

TMD: Readers always wonder in the back of their mind how autobiographical a book is. On that note how many personal experiences do you draw from for your books?

SC: Some of my books have experiences that have happened to me or are close to me. I guess it depends on the story.

TMD: We love to pull a rabbit out of our hats in our interviews. No, MorganO, I didn’t say pull his rabbit out of… Never mind. I’m too embarrassed to say where. But time for our question of all questions.

If you attended a Bachelor Auction with Mr. Romance as the grand prize. How high would you go to take him for the night?

SC: MorganO, Rex said he has someone waiting for you backstage who would love to pull out a rabbit. To answer your question, as high as I could. If I had the money I wouldn’t hesitate. Part of the fun is going after what you want.

TMD: Since MorganO is out of cash and my wallet seems to be missing, I guess it’s time to go. Before we do, Savannah, please tell us what you’ve got coming out. Books that is. What books do you have coming out, where, and when?

SC: Ohh, Rex is going to be sad to see you go. You make sure to go visit him backstage to see that outfit. Make sure to come and visit me here again.

Now for books, Bid For Love is now available from Lyrical Press. Later on in the year, I have another release from Red Rose Publishing. The story is called Pleasure After The Pain and it’s all about the pleasure of body art.

TMD: Thanks again for visiting with us today. It’s been a blast. We’d love to keep track of you, so give with all the places we can find you on net.

SC: I’m all over the net, but the places you can always catch me at are:
My official site http://www.savannahchase.com/
My official Yahoo Loop: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/savannahchase/
My official newsletter: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/SavannahChaseNaughtyNews/
My official MySpace: http://www.myspace.com/savannah_chase

MorganO: What Jmo doesn’t know is, after I emptied his wallet, I sort of sold him as a lap dancer so I could afford that last dancer. So, JMo, get up there and shake that money maker! See ya next time readers.