Writing Novel Book Dedications

You know, I was really torn over who I should dedicate my novels to.  I could have gone with the standard: For Ambrosia. But I don’t know anyone named Ambrosia.

I suppose I could have dedicated them to family members, friends, or my high school English teacher.  Here’s the problem with that idea.  I write erotic romance.  Incredibly hot, make-you-break-out-into-a-sweat, squirm-in-your-chair, require-copious-cold-showers, your-eyebrows-might-burst-into-flames, erotic romance novels. Yes, they have a plot. Yes, they will tug at your heart-strings.  They’re both romantic and fun.  They’ll make you smile and might even make you laugh out loud, but I wasn’t sure that Mrs. B would want that kind of publicity.  She must be a eleventy billion and five years old by now.  I wasn’t sure if her heart could take it.

So I decided to dedicate each of the five books in the series to a favorite, departed musician. No, not Michael Jackson. I’m a metal head.  The Sinners on Tour series is about musicians, rock musicians specifically, so it seemed appropriate to dedicate each one to a rocker who continues to rock my world.

I didn’t just dedicate the first novel, Backstage Pass: To “Dimebag” Darrell Abbott. Oh no, that would have made too much sense.  I wrote a short paragraph about how amazing Dimebag was.  Went all fan-girl on him.  Why he inspired me and others.  And how he continues to be an inspiration even years after his horrific murder.  Why did I do it that way?  I wanted my book dedications to be unique. To be novel.  So if you pick up a copy of Backstage Pass when it hits the shelves in October and you’re wondering, “What in the world was she thinking when she wrote such a corny passage about some great guitarist who was taken before his time?”, know that I put a lot of thought into it.  And a lot of heart into it.  Unfortunately, I don’t think I put a lot of skill into it.  It’s incredibly corny.  Heh.