Whether you celebrate religiously, secularly, or not at all, I still want to wish each and every one of you a Merry Christmas. Not because I'm trying to convert you, but just because the holiday brings us beautiful gems like this...
Tuesday, December 25, 2012
Friday, December 14, 2012
Mistletoe Madness Blog Hop
Hey all! When one hop ends, another begins. (Though if you're reading this on Friday the 14th, the Evernight Publishing holiday blog hop is still open, so you should hit my last post and enter that one too!)
With the business end of things done... hi! And happy holidays!
I was going to do this really informational post about the history and mythology of mistletoe. Then I realized no one really cares about that sort of thing. You know what people DO care about?
Cookies.
And booze.
Nut Butter Cookies (I'll explain the name in a bit)
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| The Nutella is the spread out one. |
1 c. margarine (my sister uses butter, but mine always turn out
softer, so I recommend margarine)
1 c. nut butter (I use this recipe with either peanut butter or
Nutella, but I would guess any nut butter would work)
2 c. packed brown sugar
2 eggs
2 1/2 c. flour
1 t baking soda
1 t baking powder
1 t salt
Mix the margarine, nut butter, and brown sugar until well
blended (it doesn't get smooth, per se, but it should be pretty creamy)
Add the eggs and beat well.
Mix the dry ingredients together then add slowly to the butter
mixture.
If using peanut butter, roll into balls, place on greased baking
sheet and flatten slightly with a fork. (I recommend chilling the dough for an
hour or two as it makes it easier to work with.)
If using Nutella, the dough will NOT hold a shape, so don't
bother trying to roll it. Just scoop up about a teaspoon full and spoon it onto
the tray.
Bake at 350 (Fahrenheit) for 10-12 minutes, but check them at
8.
The peanut butter cookies should hold their shape if very
lightly touched. (Alternatively, the crosshatches of the fork marks should be a
little browner than the rest.)
The Nutella cookies will spread out, and if left in the oven too
long will start to look NOT done in patches. When those start showing, take the
cookies out--they're done. (I know it seems counter-intuitive, but it's true.)
You'll have to experiment with other nut butters for both
shaping and how to tell when they are done.
Teaspoon size cookies work out to about 55 calories each.
And now, some booze-y goodness. I just invented this one for the blog. Don't you all feel special?
Hit the Slopes Martini
4 oz chocolate milk (I Nes-quicked some regular milk)
1 oz vodka
1 oz peppermint schnapps
crushed candy cane to rim your glass
Shake the milk, vodka, schnapps, and ice in a martini shaker. Pour into candy-cane rimmed martini glass and enjoy!
Lastly, there's one more thing! You already know how to enter to win the Kindle Fire, but I'm giving away a prize too!
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| These are mine & I know you don't want my cooties, so you get a different color :P |
I know how cold my hands get during the winter, but I need my fingers free for typing or I never get anything done. Enter the wonder of fingerless mittens! And I'm making a pair right now to give away on the hop (this is US only, sorry. However, if you enter to win and are international, we'll work something else out, okay?) This is the pattern I'm using, but they won't be this color (since I don't have anymore of the yarn left). They will be wool, but it's a soft wool (I promise. I can't deal with scratchy stuff, so I don't buy it). So it'll be a bit of a surprise in your mailbox if you win. To make entering easy (and give you opportunities to increase your chance of winning, I give you the Rafflecopterinator. (Sorry, we were listening to the Phineas & Ferb Christmas album today.)
Monday, December 10, 2012
Evernight Holiday Blog Hop
The posting for the next 2 weeks is going to be a bit wonky. Posting today and then another blog hop starts on Friday (which goes through next week), so two posts (and giveaways!) this week and no new post next week. Because that's just the way this Rebel rolls.
Now. Onto the good stuff....
To reiterate, to enter for the iPad 2, you need to leave a comment here (and on all the blogs you visit) that includes your email address. If you liked the Evernight Facebook page, you get an extra entry, but you have to mention that in your comment here as well so I can pass on the info or else it doesn't count.
But wait!
There's more!
(I've always wanted to say that and mean it.)
As soon as he disappeared in a puff of snow, I shot to my feet.
Gone were the fireplace and the window. Now the room was all gray stone with a simple wooden post near one wall. To one side, a brazier. To the other, a high table lined with tools. I shivered, but there was no time to peruse the instruments. I had no way of knowing when Santa would return.
I tugged my tunic overhead and folded it, laying it neatly in the corner. The leggings came next. Then my bra, panties, and socks. My boots stood at attention on either side of the pile. Only then did I turn and, while I smoothed my hair down, make my way to the post.
Hanging from a chain attached to the block of wood jutting to the side was a piece of leather I’d come to know as well as I knew my own body. Not a pair of hangman’s nooses. No, the harness would allow me to be suspended in a variety of positions. I wrapped a pair of straps around my ankles, securing them tightly, then slid my wrists into the loops overhead, cinching them as tightly as I could manage. I balanced on my toes, dangling from the harness. Santa likely wanted me hogtied, but I couldn’t manage that on my own, so I waited.
Belatedly, I noted the black metal rod on the floor.
Shit.
As I started to snake my hands free, the scent of chocolate and peppermint suffused the room. There was no time.
In another sprinkling of snow, Santa reappeared, the heat of the room turning the flakes to a faint mist.
No jolly red suit now. Not for me. Not for this.
He kept his black leather boots on. That much hadn’t changed. Beyond those, however, no one would recognize the bare-chested man in the dark gray jeans as the same one their children whispered wishes to at Christmas time. There was no paunch hanging over his belt—he was all big, burly and barrel-chested, his gaze dark and hooded rather than twinkling. No jolly old elf here...
And the crop in his hand was not something he’d ever used on the reindeer.
a Rafflecopter giveaway
Now. Onto the good stuff....
Welcome to the Evernight Holiday Blog Hop!
We love the holidays, we love making our readers happy and we love giving away swag. What better way to do that than to hold a blog hop?
Here's how it works... the more blogs you hop to (shown below) the more chance you have of winning prizes. Each site on the hop is offering a prize and Evernight is offering an iPad 2 as the grand prize! To be in with a chance of winning the site prize simply follow the blog you're visiting and leave a comment which includes your email address. Each entry on each blog is then counted towards the grand prize draw. The more entries you have, the better your chance of winning that iPad 2! You also get extra points for liking the Evernight Facebook page. Just make sure you let us know in the comments that you've done so.
Happy hopping!
Here's how it works... the more blogs you hop to (shown below) the more chance you have of winning prizes. Each site on the hop is offering a prize and Evernight is offering an iPad 2 as the grand prize! To be in with a chance of winning the site prize simply follow the blog you're visiting and leave a comment which includes your email address. Each entry on each blog is then counted towards the grand prize draw. The more entries you have, the better your chance of winning that iPad 2! You also get extra points for liking the Evernight Facebook page. Just make sure you let us know in the comments that you've done so.
Happy hopping!
To reiterate, to enter for the iPad 2, you need to leave a comment here (and on all the blogs you visit) that includes your email address. If you liked the Evernight Facebook page, you get an extra entry, but you have to mention that in your comment here as well so I can pass on the info or else it doesn't count.
There's more!
(I've always wanted to say that and mean it.)
In addition to entering to win the iPad 2, I'm giving away a digital copy of Evernight's newest holiday anthology, Vanilla-Free Christmas. That's right, people, it's time for a kinky Christmas (my favorite kind!) To give you a little taste of what you're in for...here's a little taste of "A Few of My Favorite Things"
(NOTE: Excerpt is kinky and not exactly PG-13)
I ran from the cafeteria to Santa’s office. Now, standing outside the intricately carved doors, I leaned against one of the nutcracker sentries, taking a second to collect myself and calm my breathing. He’d expect me here quickly but wouldn’t be happy if I was panting when I entered. A few seconds of deep breathing and my heartbeat slowed to normal.
I rapped gently on the door.
“Enter.” Pulling open the heavy wood, I faced Santa’s broad back as he stared out a window. Next to him a fire roared, soaking the room in heat. He gave a casual wave. “Close the door and wait.”
As soon as the door shut behind me, it vanished as if it had never been. I knew that in the hall the doorway had gone cold, as if Santa were no longer in residence. The first time I’d seen the wood covered in ice, I’d touched it. I’d had frostbite on the fingertip for a week. It wasn’t a lesson an elf had to learn more than once.
Now, I knelt, my tunic tucked under my ass, and rested my hands on my thighs. Staring at the woodgrain on the floor, I waited. It didn’t matter how long. I never counted or tried to figure it out. I simply inhaled and exhaled, never looking, never speaking.
At last Santa stood in front of me. His fingers tipped my chin up, and he trapped me in his steely blue gaze. “The harness is waiting for you. Be ready when I return.”
My heart quickened as I looked at him—I was powerless under his watchful eyes. The stories were true—he saw everything, even the deepest secrets of my heart. When he looked at me this way, I was as good as naked already. “Yes, sir.”
I rapped gently on the door.
“Enter.” Pulling open the heavy wood, I faced Santa’s broad back as he stared out a window. Next to him a fire roared, soaking the room in heat. He gave a casual wave. “Close the door and wait.”
As soon as the door shut behind me, it vanished as if it had never been. I knew that in the hall the doorway had gone cold, as if Santa were no longer in residence. The first time I’d seen the wood covered in ice, I’d touched it. I’d had frostbite on the fingertip for a week. It wasn’t a lesson an elf had to learn more than once.
Now, I knelt, my tunic tucked under my ass, and rested my hands on my thighs. Staring at the woodgrain on the floor, I waited. It didn’t matter how long. I never counted or tried to figure it out. I simply inhaled and exhaled, never looking, never speaking.
At last Santa stood in front of me. His fingers tipped my chin up, and he trapped me in his steely blue gaze. “The harness is waiting for you. Be ready when I return.”
My heart quickened as I looked at him—I was powerless under his watchful eyes. The stories were true—he saw everything, even the deepest secrets of my heart. When he looked at me this way, I was as good as naked already. “Yes, sir.”
As soon as he disappeared in a puff of snow, I shot to my feet.
Gone were the fireplace and the window. Now the room was all gray stone with a simple wooden post near one wall. To one side, a brazier. To the other, a high table lined with tools. I shivered, but there was no time to peruse the instruments. I had no way of knowing when Santa would return.
I tugged my tunic overhead and folded it, laying it neatly in the corner. The leggings came next. Then my bra, panties, and socks. My boots stood at attention on either side of the pile. Only then did I turn and, while I smoothed my hair down, make my way to the post.
Hanging from a chain attached to the block of wood jutting to the side was a piece of leather I’d come to know as well as I knew my own body. Not a pair of hangman’s nooses. No, the harness would allow me to be suspended in a variety of positions. I wrapped a pair of straps around my ankles, securing them tightly, then slid my wrists into the loops overhead, cinching them as tightly as I could manage. I balanced on my toes, dangling from the harness. Santa likely wanted me hogtied, but I couldn’t manage that on my own, so I waited.
Belatedly, I noted the black metal rod on the floor.
Shit.
As I started to snake my hands free, the scent of chocolate and peppermint suffused the room. There was no time.
In another sprinkling of snow, Santa reappeared, the heat of the room turning the flakes to a faint mist.
No jolly red suit now. Not for me. Not for this.
He kept his black leather boots on. That much hadn’t changed. Beyond those, however, no one would recognize the bare-chested man in the dark gray jeans as the same one their children whispered wishes to at Christmas time. There was no paunch hanging over his belt—he was all big, burly and barrel-chested, his gaze dark and hooded rather than twinkling. No jolly old elf here...
And the crop in his hand was not something he’d ever used on the reindeer.
Use the Rafflecopter below to enter for the ebook, and don't forget to comment with your email to enter into the iPad 2 giveaway!
Tuesday, December 4, 2012
How Many Billionaires Are There?
A recent tweet from my friend, Andrew Shaffer, got me thinking about this question. You see, if you pay attention to romance novels--pretty much at all--there's been an upswing in the number of "billionaires" in titles, series titles and books in general. He made the point that there are not that many billionaires in the world, and then questioned how many of them were young and horny. I'd also like to question how many of them are single.
Now, if you replace the B with an M, maybe we could talk. Actors, musicians, tech geniuses... I'm sure there are a decent number of sexy, young, available men who have crossed the seven figures mark. But it seems millionaires aren't good enough for fiction anymore for that very reason--they've become "common."
In fairness, this is not the fault of the authors. Not really. Publishers want a certain type of hero because they know that type sells.
I've seen this with some of my own work. I submitted a proposal recently and was given a "maybe, but X as the romantic hero? I'm not sure that's going to work..." Long and short of it? X is not uber-rich. Nor is he the standard for heroes everywhere. He's not a big, muscly guy. He's not grr...argggh...let-me-show-you-my-pecs. Nor is he the most brilliant.
What he is is this: attractive, fit, good at his job, funny, great with his hands, quick-witted, willing to fight for the people he loves, and a perfect match for the heroine. In short, he's a "normal" guy. When I got the "maybe" from my editor, my blood ran cold. I don't want to move this story somewhere else!
But at the same time, I don't want to compromise the story for this... absurd set of hero requirements. I don't mind writing to those requirements sometimes, but not when dealing with an established series. Story comes first.
/personal-mini-rant off
But that's the thing. There is this set of guidelines heroes are supposed to fit and rich is a big one. If they aren't rich, they should be in a position of power. (Military is often used as an example, which I find funny because military men don't make much money at all.) The fact of the matter is, this is the grown-up version of Prince Charming. He's handsome, rich, can dance, ride a horse, blah blah blah.
I think my problem is that my favorite fairy tales don't feature those kind of heroes. Tangled? Flynn Ryder is a thief for crying out loud! Shrek? Hello... ogre. Those are my romantic heroes. The ones who step up to the plate even if everything they know says they should walk or run the other way.
I'm not saying there's no room in the world for the hooking up with the billionaire stories. Hell, I'm not even saying I won't write one (or even a bunch of them). What I am saying is that, as readers, we need to put our money where our mouths are and show that we're open to other kinds of heroes too. We're willing to walk with the single mom as she falls for her son's high school football coach. Or the woman whose boss is a douche, but hey, that guy who delivers lunch everyday is really something special. Let them be successful, sure, but let's stop measuring success by the size of their muscles and bank accounts. There's more to our real life men than that. Can't there be more to our fictional ones too?
Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to catch up on one of my favorite TV shows. There's a certain pirate captain I hope manages to find a happily-ever-after... as soon as he gets over himself.
Also, I'm participating in a couple blog hops over the next two weeks. Big prizes! Be sure to come back :)
***NOTE: I meant to add a caveat that category romance is kind of its own animal and that certain character tropes are an expected part of those books. This rant was meant more specifically toward non-category romance (and fiction in general).***
Now, if you replace the B with an M, maybe we could talk. Actors, musicians, tech geniuses... I'm sure there are a decent number of sexy, young, available men who have crossed the seven figures mark. But it seems millionaires aren't good enough for fiction anymore for that very reason--they've become "common."
In fairness, this is not the fault of the authors. Not really. Publishers want a certain type of hero because they know that type sells.
I've seen this with some of my own work. I submitted a proposal recently and was given a "maybe, but X as the romantic hero? I'm not sure that's going to work..." Long and short of it? X is not uber-rich. Nor is he the standard for heroes everywhere. He's not a big, muscly guy. He's not grr...argggh...let-me-show-you-my-pecs. Nor is he the most brilliant.
What he is is this: attractive, fit, good at his job, funny, great with his hands, quick-witted, willing to fight for the people he loves, and a perfect match for the heroine. In short, he's a "normal" guy. When I got the "maybe" from my editor, my blood ran cold. I don't want to move this story somewhere else!
But at the same time, I don't want to compromise the story for this... absurd set of hero requirements. I don't mind writing to those requirements sometimes, but not when dealing with an established series. Story comes first.
/personal-mini-rant off
But that's the thing. There is this set of guidelines heroes are supposed to fit and rich is a big one. If they aren't rich, they should be in a position of power. (Military is often used as an example, which I find funny because military men don't make much money at all.) The fact of the matter is, this is the grown-up version of Prince Charming. He's handsome, rich, can dance, ride a horse, blah blah blah.
I think my problem is that my favorite fairy tales don't feature those kind of heroes. Tangled? Flynn Ryder is a thief for crying out loud! Shrek? Hello... ogre. Those are my romantic heroes. The ones who step up to the plate even if everything they know says they should walk or run the other way.
I'm not saying there's no room in the world for the hooking up with the billionaire stories. Hell, I'm not even saying I won't write one (or even a bunch of them). What I am saying is that, as readers, we need to put our money where our mouths are and show that we're open to other kinds of heroes too. We're willing to walk with the single mom as she falls for her son's high school football coach. Or the woman whose boss is a douche, but hey, that guy who delivers lunch everyday is really something special. Let them be successful, sure, but let's stop measuring success by the size of their muscles and bank accounts. There's more to our real life men than that. Can't there be more to our fictional ones too?
Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to catch up on one of my favorite TV shows. There's a certain pirate captain I hope manages to find a happily-ever-after... as soon as he gets over himself.
Also, I'm participating in a couple blog hops over the next two weeks. Big prizes! Be sure to come back :)
***NOTE: I meant to add a caveat that category romance is kind of its own animal and that certain character tropes are an expected part of those books. This rant was meant more specifically toward non-category romance (and fiction in general).***
Tuesday, November 27, 2012
Get Your Holidays With a Little Slap and Tickle
Well, I'm not so sure about the tickle part, but I can tell you for sure there's going to be more than a little of the naughty stuff in my newest release. I'm pleased to announce that the newest short story in my Santa's Naughty Elves series comes out next week. Once again, this year's story is part of Evernight Publishing's holiday anthology and this year's isn't for the faint of heart.
A Few of My Favorite Things will be in A Vanilla-Free Christmas, and if you can't tell by the title, maybe this will give you a better idea of what it's all about...
And the toys under the tree are not for children. Sexy Santas, naughty elves, and dominant shifters are ready to spread some very kinky Christmas cheer. It's a good thing the ladies in our stories are looking for anything but vanilla.
Be Warned: menage sex, anal sex, sex toys, BDSM, spanking
Yep, this is the kink anthology I've been so excited about. For those of you who think of me in terms of nice and sweet and other words that don't really apply, I feel it's only fair to tell you that Santa is involved in my story in a very un-Santa-like fashion. Don't say I didn't warn you.
Happy Holidays and may you all find the best kind of toys in your stocking.
Wednesday, November 21, 2012
Give a Reader a Reader
But, you say, the odds are so not in favor of me winning that. So I'm here to sweeten the pot. I'm going to post a freebie holiday short below, and by answering the question in the Rafflecopter correctly (it's an easy question if you read the freebie), you're entered to win a copy of either Of Course I Try (which is one of the books on the Nook--list of awesome books and authors below--so if you win the Nook, don't pick this one :P) or it's sequel The Ghost of Vampire Present. Vampire smexiness! (If you already own both, we'll figure out an alternate prize.)
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| ***Click here for a list of all the blogs participating.*** |
So, without further ado, I give you a story about one even made Max... Max. Every character has a history, and every once in a while, a special holiday gift is involved.
CHRISTMAS IN CHAINS (A Blood Kissed Story)
Since becoming a vampire, especially since I was brought here, time has little meaning. Christmas, however, always brings a special surprise.
The first year of my imprisonment, hot pokers were driven into my flesh so I would understand what my victims felt if I didn’t glamour them when I fed. The lesson repeated the next year, along with my first bath in holy water—in case the first time didn’t convince me to be kind unless there was cause to be cruel. The next year, I spent Christmas day chained in the garden, just within the shadow of its walls, where the sun could sear my flesh without destroying it so I would remember that no matter how strong I think I am, there’s always something stronger.
It was by those memories I counted the years here. A dozen so far, and judging by the decorations draped luridly about the place, number thirteen was fast approaching. I gave up begging for release after the first five years. Now I alternated between hoping to survive and praying for death.
Today, I leaned toward the former. I wanted to live…just not here. Not anymore.
There were no more lessons I could learn. Even if there were, I didn’t want those answers. I had enough nightmares to last me several centuries.
The stones of the hearth bit into my bare knees as I scrubbed at the marble inside the fireplace.
Silver chains clinked at my wrists and ankles. Resting on my heels, I wiped the back of my hand across my forehead.
“You missed a spot.” Remus’s voice grated on the last of my frayed nerves.
Snapping would do no good though, especially not with Christmas and my annual “gift” right around the corner. So I choked on the retort and clenched my shackled hands into fists, trying to calm myself. “Where?”
“Don’t growl at me, Maxmillian. To your left.”
A faint smudge of soot marred the very edge of the marble. Movements rough, I scrubbed at the spot until it disappeared. “Is that all, Remus?”
“I’m tired of talking to your back. Turn around.”
As always, the order, issued with complete calm, made me bristle. Part of me wanted to defy him, but my back still stung from the last time he’d reminded me who was in charge. So I turned and stared brazenly at him. I’d tried playing the whipped puppy; it didn’t get me anything, so I didn’t bother anymore.
Remus lounged on a red velvet couch, his robe gaping open to reveal flawless pale skin. I knew he thought it made him look irresistible. I resisted anyway. And I never found it all that difficult. He twirled a finger in his hair, looking almost coy for a moment. I must not have responded the way he planned, because he sighed and lay back on the couch. “I’m chilled. Start a fire, would you?” He turned toward me, his gaze even.
I tried to stay calm, but my muscles bunched. And my captor simply smiled at me. Of course he would notice. He always noticed. “You just had me clean the fireplace, Remus.”
He waved a hand lazily. “Yes, and now I want a fire. Build it and you can be free for the evening.”
All I wanted to do was race across the room and sever his head from his shoulders, but I knew better than to try that again. The next time I tried to kill Remus, he couldn’t see it coming or I’d fail. “Right away.”
I built the fire and had it blazing in minutes. Then he had his guards take me below ground and chain me to the ceiling. “Enjoy your Christmas Eve,” one of them growled as he yanked the chains over my head and stalked out, slamming the door and leaving me with only the light of the moon filtering through the barred window.
This was my reward. Not freedom by any standards I used to know, but I was away from Remus for a few blessed hours. Sometimes that was enough. Straining against my bonds, I could just see the moon outside my cell. A connection to the outside world—tenuous though it was—like a cruel lover, disappearing when I needed her touch most.
My muscles taut and trembling with the agony, I muttered prayers as I did every moment I spent alone—for life, for the lives I’d taken, for release, for death, for the death of Remus, and for the ability to kill him myself.
“I cannot help you with the killing, but I can get you out of here.”
The tiny voice in my right ear jerked me from my meditation, my arms screaming as I stood upright. “Who? What?”
The voice by my ear laughed and in a flurry of wings revealed itself as a shadow in the moonlight. “I am Janiqua, and I can spring you from this prison, Vampire, but you will owe me a favor in return.” She fluttered back to land on my arm, barely five inches tall, with brown hair and dragonfly wings that glittered in the pale light.
As much as I wanted to jump at the offer, I had a hard time believing I wasn’t hallucinating from pain and exhaustion. “What sort of favor?”
She shrugged, more a movement of wings than shoulders. “I don’t know. That’s why you’ll have to owe me. Do we have an accord?”
I’d long since given up hope of Christmas miracles, but I nodded. In an instant, the shackles opened and my arms fell heavily by my sides, forcing me to stifle a groan of exquisite pain. She darted under the door, and soon enough it swung wide.
“Quickly, Vampire. The guards won’t stay asleep for long.” She flitted up the stairs. I raced after her, rubbing my wrists. The guards were indeed asleep at their posts, and I dashed out the front door.
I didn’t question my good fortune until I stood shivering at the gates of the estate. “Janiqua?” I called as she fluttered into the night. “How did you find me? And why the hell did you help me?”
Her pointy teeth flashed in the light of the moon as she darted close to my ear. “I like people being in my debt, Vampire.” She flitted away and called back over her shoulder, “As to who sent me? Consider it a Christmas present from your Fairy Godmother.” Her laughter echoed in the night as she flew away.
After that, I did the only reasonable thing—put as much distance between myself and Remus’s estate as I could before dawn lit the sky, savoring my Christmas miracle and plotting my vengeance with every step.
Below is the Rafflecopter for the big giveaway.
Your question for entry here is: What is the name of the character keeping Max captive?
a Rafflecopter giveaway
Monday, November 19, 2012
Come Back Tomorrow...
No, seriously. I signed up for a tour thingy and accidentally signed up for Wednesday instead of Tuesday. Oops.
Anyway, here's the link to the list of all the tour dates as well as info on how you can win a Nook for a friend and a bunch of ebooks for both of you! Commenting on each of the stops enters you in the grand prize drawing (as long as you enter the rafflecopter thing), AND I'm giving away something here as well, so make sure you stop back tomorrow!
Anyway, here's the link to the list of all the tour dates as well as info on how you can win a Nook for a friend and a bunch of ebooks for both of you! Commenting on each of the stops enters you in the grand prize drawing (as long as you enter the rafflecopter thing), AND I'm giving away something here as well, so make sure you stop back tomorrow!
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