American Beauty - Why is it so hard to recreate a best selling book?

I asked the other day on this blog why sales might've been lower than I thought they should be for my M/M Christmas romance that released November 2008. Of course it could be the economy or Christmas shopping. Others said maybe M/M romance is getting glutted and/or finally dropping off. Ms. Jones said something to the effect of "Write another American Beauty." American Beauty is one of my biggest sellers, probably my number one. Like I replied in my comment, of course I'm trying, without copying it of course. It's hard to find the secret to a big seller. At least I think so IMHO. I try to write the best book every time I write one. I always try to top the last one. I've tried to recreate the formula for best sellers, but that doesn't necessarily work. Some others have a huge success with every book. Others have some books that stand out way in front of the others. American Beauty was an Eppie Finalist so that could be one reason why. It was good enough to final and it also has the Eppie logo. But I finaled with TWO books that same year. The other book, even though it was good enough to final and also had the Eppie logo, didn't sell nearly as well. In fact, the publisher didn't renew the contract. So those aren't the only two things that sell a book, either. Damn! So what is the perfect formula? Is it vampires? M/M? M/M/F? I wrote a vampire romance which is one of my poorest sellers. Some of my M/M's sell okay, but not as well as two of my M/M/Fs which also sold really well (The Perfect Gift by Total-E-Bound.com and Lady Makes Three by Ellora's Cave). In fact, American Beauty is a (stand alone) sequel to "Purrfect Justice" also published by Ellora's Cave. Purrfect Justice sold pretty well and I was thrilled when the judge at a court case I was almost on the jury for several months ago told me she read Purrfect Justice and loved it - in front of the other jurors and attorneys. Readers (and me) would get tired if I write American Beauty or The Perfect Gift over and over ad nauseum. And yet, I would love to recreate the magic that went into them. All I can do is study them. Dissect them. And try. But then, I'm trying with M/M's and M/M/F's like I tried with vampires and recreating and trying isn't always good enough. Suggestions anyone? REAL suggestions? American Beauty By Ashley Ladd Kirsty Engle is in shock when Bradley Miller, resplendent in a ball gown, feather boa, and tons of eye shadow, wants to rent her spare room. She can't understand why this obviously unavailable man makes her heart sing and her blood boil more than any other. Undercover police officer Lt. Brad Mueller curses his captain and the car thieves that are responsible for him being in such a totally ludicrous predicament. It's bad enough he has to dress like a babe, but he's received strict orders not to touch one for the duration of his secret mission, under threat of being fired from the force. This ladies' man doesn't know if he can stand his worse-than-death sentence - particularly after he falls for his sweet and very voluptuous landlady. As if all of that isn't bad enough, everything gets really crazy when Kirsty and her gay boss make a bet to see who can win his heart. A sizzling, hilarious romantic comedy. Review quotes for American Beauty by Ashley Ladd AMERICAN BEAUTY is a funny, off the wall romp. ~Carolyn, A Romance Review This story has likable characters, and a great supporting cast that will have you laughing out loud, and some sexy scenes that will have you lowering the air conditioner. ~ Five Roses out of Five ~ ~Dee Gentle, GWN Online Book Reviewer AMERICAN BEAUTY is incredibly humorous. ~Robin Taylor, In The Library Reviews

An Excerpt From: American Beauty

© Copyright Ashley Ladd, 2003.

All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave, Inc.

He must’ve dozed off, for he awoke with a start when silky hair caressed his cheek and a lace-covered breast grazed his arm. “Wake up, Sleeping Beauty,” a very sultry, husky voice crooned. “I brought home your favorite – Prime Rib and chocolate covered strawberries.” She perched on the couch beside him, leaning over him, her creamy breasts almost falling out of a slinky, frilly creation he was sure was illegal throughout the First World.

Had he thought of her as a sprite? Temptress was more like it. No, siren was the apt description. Those dusky aureoles peaked out at him again and his blood pressure shot sky high.

He swallowed hard, his pulse hammering and his breathing uneven. His cock sprung to full attention. He knew he should move away, make a joke, or do something to diffuse the dangerous situation, but he couldn’t. Not when she scooted back and rubbed against him, torturing him inhumanely.

She smelled of lilacs, vanilla, and strawberries. Then he realized it was an oddly smoky vanilla scent, and fresh juicy strawberries. He pried his gaze from her tight nipples and noticed for the first time how the dim lights flickered from candles on every surface. “Is it my birthday?” His voice crackled, sultrier than hers. His cock ached to get out of his palace and play. Down boy! It had only suffered a female drought for a few days, not the eon it felt like.

Kirsty licked her shiny lips, slow and languorously, her pink tongue just peeking out those luscious lips, promising pleasure beyond compare to any man brave enough to take up her invitation. And she undoubtedly invited him. But why? Until tonight, she’d been sweet and teetered on the shy side. Why had she morphed into this voluptuous seductress who knew all the moves, and flaunted her voluptuous body in sucking distance, to drive him so wild to forget himself and his mission?

Stars twinkled in her eyes and she ran a fingernail down his chest, which she let hover just below his navel, at the snap of his jeans. Her nipples strained against the see-through lace, taut little buds teasing him unmercifully.

He longed to touch the outer rim of her dusky areole, and his mouth went dry. He could taste it deep inside his mouth.

“What do you want for your birthday?” She leaned over him, and her bodice gaped open to give him a nearly full view of the gorgeous breast.

He sucked in his breath unable to tear his gaze from the perfect view. When she sat down again, rubbing against him, his shaft strained to be free. He didn’t know how much more torture he could stand. Never had he restrained himself before and he could barely remember why he needed to now. The female was not only willing, she was begging him to fuck her.

“Hungry?”

He almost fell off the couch, but rolled into her instead, increasing his pain to even more excruciating levels. “Starved,” he admitted, hoping she didn’t plan to tease and torture him all night like this. If she seduced him, as she surely seemed to be doing, he could succumb. Even Crowe couldn’t fault a red-blooded man for being unable to resist the lures of a nearly naked seductress.

“In that case,” a slow smile dawned over her face making her glow, “Open your mouth wide. I have something special for you.”

Available at Ellora's Cave

You'll also want to see what Amarinda Jones, Anika Hamilton, Anny Cook, Barbara Huffert, Brynn Paulin, Bronwyn Green, Dakota Rebel, Kelly Kirch, Molly Daniels, Sandra Cox, Regina Carlysle, and Cindy Spencer Pape are up to, so make sure to visit them also. :)

Writing and Reading Short Stories and Novelettes vs. Novels

I'd like to segue from yesterday's post about my short story "Brazen" published on East End of the Web. Yesterday I explored comments about is romance too unrealistic and if fantasies are bad or good as well as women's vs. men's fantasies. The comment I mentioned yesterday begs another, totally unrelated question. "How much do readers expect writers to put into a short story?" If a story is publicized as a short romantic story, I'd expect a quick romance, or at least a quick reconciliation. "Short" really does mean "short". Right? In the world of romance reading, "short story" is different from "novelette", "novel", and "super". The majority of readers are savvy about the terminology and thus what to expect. In case you missed yesterday's post (of course you could just scroll down and read it now :) ) here's the comment that made me ponder all this: "Very mills n boon.sappy n unreal.thts not romance.women always write fantasy stuff instead of finding romance in real life daily stuff.no wonder girls get their heart broken everyday,its cause theyre brainwashed by such material.all in all i didnt enjoy it cuz it makes u less hopeful in fallin in love.n perfection doesnt exist.love is so much more than fantasy n lust" I don't begrudge the reader his or her comment. But it seems unrealistic to me that someone who reads a short romantic story wouldn't expect it to be on the fantasy side. Unless it's a recant of a real romance, then a short romance would have to skip a lot of things so it can be short. Recently, (which you may have noticed) I've been writing a lot of short stories. I work full time and the kids tug at me a lot to cart them around to Halloween bashes, trick or treating, getting costumes, scouts, softball, etc. etc. There's only so many hours in a day and personally, I like to produce a lot - I think it's the ADHD in me. Short stories and novelettes releasing several times a year feels like a big accomplishment vs. one or two releases a year if I solely concentrated on longer stories. (However, I do have 3 full-size novels on submission with publishers right now, so I've not given up on them.) I like to write meaty stories that get deep into relationships, too. I love to read them. But sometimes, if I'm tired, but not too tired to go to sleep yet, I just want to read a short piece all in one sitting and get my romance fix. Writing short isn't easy, believe me. Now that I've had more practice it's easier than I once found it. I used to find it way more difficult to get everything into a short story instead of having the luxury of 50,000 words plus to get it all down. I really struggled to pare down short stories to under 15,000 words, in particular if they were also in the erotic romance genre. Perhaps it looks easy while reading it if you've never tried to write one, but it's not. Not for me, anyway. And not for some of my writing buddies who would much rather writer longer 100,000 word stories than stories of 15,000 words or less. Obviously writers earn more per story in royalties from a long story as the publishers charge more for the book. However, my biggest seller and biggest royalties ever came from a short story in the anthology "And Lady Makes Three" published by Elloras Cave. That's when I decided that my time would be well spent writing shorter. After all, my business training taught me to work smarter, not harder. That's not to negate what I wrote above. Short stories, at least until my mind set and skills were honed to write short, were much more difficult to write. However, they still took less time than writing a 100,000 word story. I guess I didn't get my MBA and bachelor's in Accounting for nothing (for a few years I seriously wondered about that). Also, so many stories are tugging at me to be written, short and long, it's almost impossible to decide which one gets the honor of being written next. Prioritizing which story to write next should be another separate topic. Here's a short excerpt from "And Lady Makes Three" published by Ellora's Cave.

An Excerpt From: PIRATE’S BOOTY

(from the "And Lady Makes Three" anthology)

Copyright © ASHLEY LADD, 2005.

All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.

Keir’s warm breath tickled her neck. “Something troubling you, Princess?”

Her hand grasped her throat in shocked alarm.

“I have a name. Would it hurt you so terribly to use it?” She exhaled slowly as she turned to find him barely kissing distance away. Lifting her lashes slowly, she gazed up at him. Not as tall as his colleague, he was the perfect height, his nose level with the top of her head. His lips rested at her eye-level and from this distance, they looked ideal, too. Usually, she couldn’t see them for his full beard, but at this distance, she could see them very clearly.

“Melena.” Keir caressed her name as no other had before him. It rolled off his tongue like the richest Synkethian milk chocolate.

Mesmerized by his dark, sultry voice, a minute gasp escaped her lips. Quivers of lust racked her, and a strange twinge resounded between her legs. It might not hurt him terribly to use her given name, but apparently it made her ache. But it was too late to take it back now.

Realizing she stared as if he were her last supper, she cursed silently and forced herself to act nonchalant. She was chained by a thousand different prisons and had no right to quiver at his nearness or devour his lips with her gaze. Too late to act as if everything was sunny when she probably looked as if she were about to go nova so she confessed to the partial truth. At least, he wouldn’t hear a lie in her voice. “What if we’re never rescued?”

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she swept her gaze wide in an all-encompassing arc around the glade where they’d moved their camp. Lifting her chin high, she tried to sound confident, but her voice emerged strangled. “What if we spend the rest of our days on this planet, completely alone, except for the three of us?”

Keir raised his hand as if to stroke away the stray wisps of hair from her heated face, but it hovered mid-air and then dropped limply to his side. “We have to be optimistic. We can’t give up hope.”

If it were only the two of them, she and Keir, it could be paradise. But three? She worried her bottom lip between her teeth. Someone would be the odd man out and that spelled trouble.

Uncomfortably hot, bored, and frustrated, she glared. “Why? Shouldn’t they have found us by now if they were searching? My people must think me dead from the explosion. They may not have launched any missions of rescue.”

Keir slid a finger under her chin and forced her to look him square in the eye. His were deep, murky pools that she could happily drown in. “Because we’ll go crazy if we give up. Because you’re much stronger than that. We’re not just going to lie down and die…”

Published by Ellora's Cave