Diane Nelson's Blog, page 2

Rencontre Passionnée (Part 4): Aaron Speca and Patricia Laffoon

This little story came about when Patricia posted the beginnings of it on our private writing page from the point of view of her character. I decided to respond by relating the same scene from my character’s point of view and then taking it a little beyond that. This continued until the scene was done. I felt this was a little different way of telling a story and wanted to share it, and Diane was kind enough to offer her blog as a place to do this. We hope you enjoy the conclusion of this passionate encounter. (At the end are links where you can follow us if you would like.)

HER: With the exertion, they were producing sweat pouring off them in rivulets. She had been debating, in her mouth or inside her quivering channel; either way was going to give them both the release they craved. She had been pleasuring herself right along with him and now they were both so close the anticipation was thick like fog.

Somewhere among the yummy "Mmmm you taste so good" sounds, his composure must have snapped. The next thing she knew he was grabbing her by the forearms dragging her forward.  “Here now!” was all he said between clinched teeth.  She left him with an audible pop. Her eyes flipped up to his face. His eyes were ablaze with the deep need for relief. Climbing up his body, she straddled his thighs.  As slick as they both were it was an easy glide in. Bracing herself she dug her nails into his muscular rib cage. This was now going to be down and dirty, hard and fast.

His hands slid from her forearms down to the narrow span of her waist, then down to the solid globes of her firm rounded bottom, gliding her along his rock hard length. It wasn't long before she caught up to his rhythm, and with her breast heaving she rode him, rode him hard and fast.

When their mutual release came, it was in a blistering explosion of light and sound. The loud rasps of their breath and the chandelier tinkling above them was the only sound in the now shuddering house.
HIM: Somewhere within him, his dam of control burst. He grabbed her roughly by the arms. He gasped when she freed him, but he needed to be inside her, and now.

He locked his eyes with her swirling blue orbs. Her legs clenched around his waist as he entered her sheath. They fit together perfectly. He guided her rhythm with his palms on her firm backside, and arched up into her, watching her rise and fall.

He slid one hand over her slick sheen-covered body, up to cup her heaving breast. She moaned, and pressed her hands hard into his chest, throwing her head back. Harder and harder she rode him, crying out loudly. The room shook a little as their tension was released, and his eyes closed as he emptied himself into her.

She finally collapsed into his arms. Both of them were breathing heavy, but starting to calm. She settled in, nuzzling his neck. She felt like heaven in the afterglow of their love, and he stroked her hair gently. This was perfect. He didn't want to move.
THEM: With her arms surrounding his neck she rested plastered to his chest.  She was past exhausted, and his hand trembled as he brushed her sweat soaked hair from her face. She turned her face into his palm nuzzling it like a well-satisfied kitten, raising her heavy lidded eyes. “Shower?” He nodded swinging her up into his arms.

The shower pelted them from all directions with the soothing balm of heat; she was so limp in his arms he had to hold her close worried that her rubbery knees would give out beneath her. Tenderly he washed her from head to toe.  She moaned and smiled with every gentle glide of his soapy hands over her tender body. Finished he sat her on the ledge of their massive twelve-shower head enclosure. “Don’t move.” A nod of her head was the only acknowledgment she was able to give.

He washed himself with maximum efficiency fearing if he left her to long she’d do a face plant into the shower floor. Bending he took her up into his beefy arms, placing a tender kiss on her forehead before wrapping her within the confines of a large white Turkish bath towel. Gently he sat her on the vanity seat, then wrapped one around his own hips with one hand and held her upright with the other.  Now that is a neat trick, she thought. Lifting her again, he strode into the sanctuary of their bedroom.

The soft light pooled around their bed. Pulling back the deep forest green comforter and cool sheets, she was already fast asleep when he laid her head against the pillows, and he couldn't help but look down into her face with a smile. Shaking his damp head chuckling, he tucked her in. Crawling over her, he dried his hair then tossed the towel aside pulling her into his arms. With male pride, he whispered, “You know you’re good for my ego.” Even in her half sleep she smiled, sinking willingly into his arms and cuddling up into his side, knowing that was where she would always belong.
Patricia and I can also be followed here:    

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Rudy and Trish are the main characters in our two published short stories in the "Evernight: Romance in a World of Darkness" anthologies, and will be in their own novel, “The Realmwalker Prophecy: Heart of the Mermaid” coming soon.  You can get to know them as well as get 23 other great stories!  Here's where you can find them:

Evernight Volume 1:   Amazon       
Evernight Volume 2:   Amazon       XoXo          ARe

Meet Lara Nance & Her Newest Haven Mystery

Meet Lara Nance

Lara Nance grew up and lived in many cites through the South. She started out with a career in business/marketing for twenty years and then went back to school for a masters in nursing and is currently a nurse practitioner in Virginia Beach, VA.

From ghosts, witches, and energy vampires to thrilling mysteries and Steampunk tales, she is willing to explore a variety of compelling adventures full of danger and suspense, along with a touch of romance. Lara loves to weave interesting true historical tidbits into her fiction which invite the reader to explore further after the novel is finished.

Currently docked in Norfolk, Virginia (until the wind changes) Lara enjoys living on her sailboat and spends time reading, of course writing, indulging a variety of artistic endeavors, cooking and sailing with her husband, Joe and their Yorkie, Rio. About Murder in the World Below
Murder in the World Below introduces a tight-knit community of second and third generation survivors of a government institutional system that went horribly wrong at the hands of people in control.

A Haven Mystery

In 1922 the federal government built the largest facility for handicapped children in the country, hidden in the Shenandoah Mountains of Virginia. It was closed forever in 1960 amid horrifying stories of deplorable conditions, overcrowding, illegal testing and sexual abuse of the young inmates.

Sixty-one years later, the academy is now a community college, all trace of its evil past swept away. Or is it? For under the campus of renovated buildings, escapees from the academy and their descendants still live in an elaborate series of tunnels and caves, hiding their differences and fear of the upper world.

Haven, as the residents call their underground home, is a happy, thriving community until they learn their source of power is about to be cut off. A resourceful young woman named Awen sets out to find an alternative source of energy. But someone in Haven is murdering people and sabotaging her efforts.

Aided by a professor from the college, Awen is in a race to expose the killer and hunt for a source of energy that will save Haven. Unfortunately, the murderer now has their sights on Awen as the next victim, and time is running out for the world below.
A Sneak Peek at 
MURDER IN THE WORLD BELOW

Billy Two flung aside the tarp and stomped into the small cave Awen Four used as her bedroom. She jumped, startled. Her rat, Coco, squeaked then dove into the crook of her arm.

“Damn it, Billy!” She huffed. As usual, the young boy disregarded Haven’s rules of privacy.

“Old Harvie’s dyin’.” He grimaced then flopped into a battered armchair, his face grim, rounded cheeks streaked with a layer of perpetual dirt. “Shit’s gonna hit the fan now.”

“What? I saw him this morning. I thought he was better.” A chill crawled over her skin. They couldn’t lose Harvie. The Boss. He was the heart and soul of Haven. “It must be a rumor. People are scared.”

She stroked Coco who'd poked her head out, blinking dark sparkling eyes at the boy.

“Nope, he’s dyin’. Now Kinnik’ll take over and you know what that means.” He pressed his lips together in a thin line. He took off his newsboy cap and smacked it against his knee. He pulled open a much patched wool jacket, revealing layers of several T-shirts, two button-up shirts, and a sweater vest.

Awen stared at him askance. Maybe it was denial, but Harvie seemed too integral to Haven to die. A part of their secret world would diminish in his absence, and she feared it would be the best part.

“Heard it from Pop himself,” Billy insisted. He rubbed a hand under his nose and planted his cap over matted brown hair. “I overheard him talkin' to Joe outside the group room. He’d come from Harvie’s place ‘n said the Boss was going downhill fast. He went lookin’ for Kinnik to tell him.”

“Oh, no. This is horrible.” Her heart lurched. Harvie wasn't just important to Haven, he was the dad she never had. She ran a hand through her hair. What were they going to do?

Praise for MURDER IN THE WORLD BELOW

“Lara Nance’s writing shines brightest when she’s building new worlds. Murder in the World Below will draw you in where her characters win your affection. Her story takes you on a grand adventure, and you never want to leave.” - Author, Laura Kitchell

Buy Links: Kindle 

Amazon print

B&N Print

Awards: Memories of Murder:

1. Best paranormal romance 2012 - NEC's Bean Pot award- a readers choice award.

2. Award of Merit for Best book by a Virginia Author in VRW's Holt Medallion contest in 2012

DraculaVille - New York -

3. Rudy Award for best novel with strong romantic elements 2013, Chesapeake Romance Writers, Finish the Damn Book Contest.

Find Lara Nance Face Book

Amazon Author Page

Rencontre Passionnée(Part 3): Aaron Speca and Patricia Laffoon

This little story came about when Patricia posted the beginnings of it on our private writing page from the point of view of her character. I decided to respond by relating the same scene from my character’s point of view and then taking it a little beyond that. This continued until the scene was done. I felt this was a little different way of telling a story and wanted to share it, and Diane was kind enough to offer her blog as a place to do this. We hope you enjoy this passionate encounter over the next couple of weeks. (At the end are links where you can follow us if you would like.)

HER: She heard his sharp inhalation as her teeth scraped along the thick column of his throat. She nipped, licked, touched and savored every inch of his glorious body letting her hair trail in her wake adding a tactile sensation to their mating. She loved all that silk encased steel beneath her palms. She caught her lip between her teeth as she rose above him. He was magnificent, shoulders so broad, chest beautifully sculpted. Years of hard physical labor had defined him and he was all hers.

She crawled backwards siding off the wide bench, letting her breast slowly glaze over his heated skin until she nestled between his wide muscled thighs. With his feet flat on the floor she cupped the back of his calf pressing a series of light butterfly kisses from his ankle until she was hovering an inch from all that male lusciousness. Nevertheless, she did not take him into her greedy mouth just yet she wanted him out of his mind with desire the way she had been. She turned to his other leg giving it as much attention as she had its partner. When she reached the pinnacle of his thighs she looked up through her bangs,

She heard his tortured groan; his hand palmed the crown of her head pulling her closer. She traced fingers over his hardened manhood, from top down the long back the heavy sacs beneath. Cupping him gently she heard his gasp and felt his fingers tighten in her hair, telling her playtime was over.

Wrapping her hand around as much as she could hold, she parted her lips moistening them she took the purple bulbous head into her mouth. She thought she heard a muted cry of “oh gods yes”. He tasted warm, salty and oh so delicious. She loved hearing his groans of pleasure as she sucked him in as far as she could. He pumped his hips against her lips; she could tell he was holding on to his control by the tiniest of threads.
HIM: Her skin slid over his as she crawled backwards down his chest. He slid his hands along her smooth and svelte shoulders. Every corded muscle in his body tensed with the torture she was having him endure.

Her lips were on his inner thigh. She was tormenting him with the lightest of touches, like giving crumbs to someone who was starving. His hands went to her hair. He was trying in vain not to grab at her desperately. When she took his hard length into her mouth, he had to grasp the bottom of the ottoman to maintain control.

Her rhythm was relentless, furious. His hips bucked with every stroke, but he couldn't move anything else ... she had complete control and he could tell she was enjoying every second of it.

He had brought his breathing under control, but she would have none of it, adding pressure with her hand at the base of his sexual core. The walls of resistance he had put up to prolong this feeling were starting to crumble ...


Patricia and I can also be followed here:    
Facebook              Twitter
Rudy and Trish are the main characters in our two published short stories in the "Evernight: Romance in a World of Darkness" anthologies, and will be in their own novel, “The Realmwalker Prophecy: Heart of the Mermaid” coming soon.  You can get to know them as well as get 23 other great stories!  Here's where you can find them:

Evernight Volume 1:   Amazon       
Evernight Volume 2:   Amazon       XoXo          ARe

Rencontre Passionnée(Part 2): Aaron Speca and Patricia Laffoon

This little story came about when Patricia posted the beginnings of it on our private writing page from the point of view of her character. I decided to respond by relating the same scene from my character’s point of view and then taking it a little beyond that. This continued until the scene was done. I felt this was a little different way of telling a story and wanted to share it, and Diane was kind enough to offer her blog as a place to do this. We hope you enjoy this passionate encounter over the next couple of weeks. (At the end are links where you can follow us if you would like.)

HER The coolness of the black leather was lost on her as he laid her back. Slowly teasing her with gentle touches, he blew softly on neatly trimmed blond curls. It wasn’t long before he was consuming her.  Her back arched, and the heel of her left foot dug into his broad back. Her face damp with exertion, roaring fissures of pleasure overtook her as his mouth devoured her cleft. One hand desperately pulled him closer while the other trailed over her own body.  Writhing under him with no purchase, her fingers tangled within her own flaxen locks, nails scraping into her scalp to add a twinge of pain along with the sublime pleasure he was showering upon her.

She couldn't resist the erotic image of him as she rose up on her elbows long enough to watch in the mirror. Kneeling there, his jeans lovingly molded to his firm back side, the muscles of his back bunched with strain as he took her with abandon. Falling back, her broken whimpers urged him on. Her body was going up in flames as his tongue stroked her, mimicking the act of sex. His hand left her thigh long enough to apply that much needed pressure to her tight bundle of nerves. That was all it took as she climaxed instantly, her body convulsing as she sobbed out a choked version of his name.

After a moment he returned to her side, jeans now discarded, gathering her into his arms. With her face buried in his chest she could feel his thundering heartbeat, inhale the warm tangy fragrance of his damp skin, taste her own essence as he took her mouth in a soul rending kiss.

HIM He felt her tremble and heard her cry out. He didn't let her go right away, continuing to provide the heated contact he knew she craved until she convulsed and pushed his head away. He quickly shed the restricting jeans and pulled himself up next to her, pulling her into his embrace. She had a light sheen covering her. He stroked her hair gently and their lips met. Her mouth was strawberry sweet.

She wrapped her hand around his waist, pulling him against her. The complete unfettered contact between them was almost too much as it was, but then she pressed against his shoulder, pushing him over onto his back. Her breasts slid across his chest. This time she was starting to tease him, undulating over his body. It was sweet torture of the most pleasurable kind. His groin ached more with every move she made.

Finally she placed her palms in his chest and rose up gloriously over him, her blonde hair falling haphazardly over her shoulders. Their eyes met. His chest was pounding, his body tensed with anticipation. She licked her lips, then brought her head down hard and fast, scraping her teeth along his throat. His eyes closed and he felt her travel down his chest languidly. He was losing his mind from the euphoric agony she was causing him ... but he didn't want her to stop.

Patricia and I can also be followed here:    
Facebook                Twitter

Rudy and Trish are the main characters in our two published short stories in the "Evernight: Romance in a World of Darkness" anthologies, and will be in their own novel, “The Realmwalker Prophecy: Heart of the Mermaid” coming soon.  You can get to know them as well as get 23 other great stories!  Here's where you can find them:

Evernight Volume 1:   Amazon       
Evernight Volume 2:   Amazon       XoXo          ARe

Rencontre Passionnée (Part 1): Aaron Speca & Patricia Laffoon

This little story came about when Patricia posted the beginnings of it on our private writing page from the point of view of her character. I decided to respond by relating the same scene from my character’s point of view and then taking it a little beyond that. This continued until the scene was done. I felt this was a little different way of telling a story and wanted to share it, and Diane was kind enough to offer her blog as a place to do this. We hope you enjoy this passionate encounter over the next couple of weeks. (At the end are links where you can follow us if you would like.)

HER She loved this room with its thick lush creamy carpet, the kind that begged you to curl your toes in, and the deep rich mahogany floor to ceiling cabinets, his and hers. But what captured her attention was him, watching her, in the nine by five floor length mirror at the end of the room. After their evening out she set about divesting herself of the items in her purse, including her cell phone, which most days she had no idea why she carried. He did the same. Change from his pockets, other items he kept with him at all times clinked against the glass top of the dresser.

Desire was ripe in his expression as he tugged his shirt over his head, exposing his pronounced, muscled chest. A sandy brown dusting of curly hair bisected his torso, leading a happy trail which she followed with her eyes to his belt buckle. Her pink tongue swept the edge of her plump lips. They met in the middle of the room. The low light of the crystal chandelier he installed for her did interesting things, casting shadows over the both of them. Bending at his knees behind her, he placed open-mouthed kisses from the bridge of her shoulder to that tender spot just below her ear he knew so well. She tilted her head giving him further access, his breath warm and moist in her ear as he whispered erotic suggestions to her. Her mouth was dry and her hands trembled as she started to shrug her shirt off. He stilled her hands; the shirt came away. Laying the item of clothing aside, he pressed a chaste kiss to her temple. Then she went to reach for the bottom of her camisole, and once again he stilled her hand, shaking his head slowly.

It was apparent to her now that his plans were to unravel her piece at a time. She was a willing supplicant.  Brushing his long warm fingers along her rib cage brought on a rush of goose flesh in their wake. He urged her arms up as he pulled the camisole over her head, allowing her long blonde hair to settle in waves around her shoulders. Before she could drop her hands to her waistband he clasped them and brought them up to encircle his neck so that she was open to his fervent exploration. She was lost when he trailed the back of his fingers down the contours of her breast to the flat plain of her abdomen. He made quick work unbuttoning her slacks.  With a shimmy of her hips, her pants pooled around her feet. Kicking her heels off brought her four inches shorter, her height now five foot six inch to his towering six foot four. She stood waiting with anticipation, wearing only the palest of pink demi bra and matching thong. His eyes practically glowed with desire. She could see in the mirror what he needed was to feel her bare skin under his hands.

After kicking her pants free he walked her backwards, the back of his knees bumping against the large overstuffed leather ottoman in the center of the room. He brought her down with him as he sank into the cushion, cradling her between his jeans-clad thighs.  She could sense he had her right where he wanted her. Their eyes met in the ceiling mirror this time. Slowly he kissed the side of her cheek. Her heart was pounding and she felt flushed with the blood rushing through her.  He allowed her to lower her arms long enough to divest her of his next obstacle.  Her bra was in his way to getting her completely naked and under him. His thumbs caught the edge of the thin straps, lowering them. His lips followed their wake, and with a quick flick of his thumb and forefinger the two halves of her bra fell open, allowing the bounty of her plump breasts to fall into his open hands. She reveled in the freedom from the confining clothing, arching her head back into his shoulder.  She took his wrists and guided his hands to palm her breasts, testing the weight in his hands; his thumbs rubbed the tips until they hardened against his calloused pads. Her moaned gasp seemed to draw his lips against her neck.   She saw his smile in the mirror.  It was as if his body was speaking to hers … ~Like that do you?~ Her reply to his touch was a decisive nod of her head and the arch of her back pressing her chest harder into his waiting palms. Her eyes, now a deeper cobalt blue, fluttered closed. ~Oh yes… you know I do~  He had to know that if he kept this up, this alone would have her begging for release in no time.

His fingers moved away, making room for his lips as he turned her towards him just enough that he could capture the now ruby tip between his teeth. She groaned shamelessly when his fingers brushed the edge of her lacy thong. She felt the warm pool of yearning need dampen the thin strip of material the separated her from him.
HIM It had seemed like an eternity since they had some time alone like this, and the anticipation was like a knife in his gut that was punctuated with the sound of every item he tossed on the table. Her back was to him, but when he looked up their eyes locked in the mirror and he was lost. His shirt was over his head and on the floor before he even realized it and he met her in the center of the room. He caressed her neck with his hungry lips, but he stopped her from disrobing herself. He was determined to savor her every moment he could.

First her shirt, then her undergarment was gone, and as his hands ran across her stomach, she leaned into him. Skin met skin, and their eyes locked in the mirror once again. He lifted her arms so her hands went around his neck. Her body arched and her lips parted slightly, invitingly. He would taste those lips ... but not yet. One hand brushed lightly down her side as he loosened her pants with the other, and they fell away.

He backed into the ottoman, falling back but lowering her gently onto his chest. The leather was cool against his back.  He felt her try to turn in his grasp to face him but he stopped her again. It took him mere seconds to unclasp her bra and take her breasts in his hands, massaging them and running his fingers over the nubs. He felt her breath quicken and his soon followed suit. He let her turn now, but only part way, and slid her up his body until his mouth and tongue could now partake of her body where his hands had just rested. He moved his palms first over her thong, then his fingers found their way underneath the last barrier she had against him.

He eased it down slowly, tantalizingly as she writhed over him. He was rock hard, and he wanted her desperately ... but he got just as much excitement from giving her pleasure as he did when she gave it to him. Perhaps even more. No woman had ever done this to him, caused him to have that reaction. His hand went to the apex of her inner thighs as he rolled her over, blanketing her naked body. He trailed his lips down her torso inexorably, until he reached the tiny soft blonde curls. His free hand returned to her breast as his legs slid off the ottoman to kneel on the floor. He was totally in command of her now. His shoulder slid under her thigh and her leg draped down his back.

He watched her chest heave as her breathing got heavier and then, finally, his mouth replaced his fingers, his tongue delving into the warm wetness of her essence. He could never tire of tasting her and her reaction to it. He felt her whole body shudder as her leg tensed and her hand ran through his hair. He could see her other tangle in her own long blonde locks before he closed his eyes. With one hand massaging her chest and the other wrapped around her thigh, he started to move them both to a quicker rhythm.

Patricia and I can also be followed here:    
Facebook               Twitter

Rudy and Trish are the main characters in our two published short stories in the "Evernight: Romance in a World of Darkness" anthologies, and will be in their own novel, “The Realmwalker Prophecy: Heart of the Mermaid” coming soon.  You can get to know them as well as get 23 other great stories!  Here's where you can find them:

Evernight Volume 1:   Amazon       
Evernight Volume 2:   Amazon       XoXo          ARe

Natalie Gayle Riffs on Writing & Finding Trust

Please join me in welcoming Natalie Gayle. We'll find out about her newest, FINDING TRUST, but first Natalie gives us some insight into why she writes romance. What prompted me to write romance?

It’s the question I get asked all the time.  And I’m sure I look at people with a really confused look on my face, because to me, and anyone that knows me, the answer is so simple.

I LOVE reading all types of romance.  My tastes are wide and varied and I’ll probably give just about any romance book a go.  So it simply made sense for me to write what I love to read.  

I’ll also answer some of the other questions about romance novels that I get asked regularly. 


When did your love of romance start?

I started reading romance when I was about fourteen.  I would escape to the library at school because it was air-conditioned and I hate the heat.  I’m still not sure why I live in Queensland?   Which is one of the hottest states in Australia.  One of the other reasons I sort sanctuary in the library was that I didn’t have much in common with the other kids, so I preferred to take a break from being at school and spend some time somewhere else and novels provided the perfect place to escape to.

I picked up my first Georgette Heyer novel then proceeded to read through the whole shelf and every other book that looked like romance in the library.  I fell in love with the whole “happily ever after” thing.  I was hooked on the comfort that regardless how bad things got, there was always going to be a happy ending.  

Even today I find something very reassuring about this.  Most of us at times feel our life is a bit out of control but knowing there’s going to be a happily ever after is very comforting.  


When did you read your first Mills and Boon?

At age seventeen, when I went away to boarding school I read my first Mills and Boon.  My good friend and room mate and I, would each buy a couple of Mills and Boon books on a Saturday morning, two family size blocks of Cadbury chocolate each and settle in for a weekend of reading and chocolate indulging.  

We learnt a lot about “the adult” world of love and relationships. Upon reflection it should probably be considered a right of passage for any young woman.  We had fun!


When did you realise you loved writing?

I always knew I loved reading.  I read my first real series when I was about ten.  It was not until my final year of high school that I realised I actually enjoyed writing.  I’d always been very good at English but I wouldn’t say I ever had a passion for it.  Then I had an amazing English teacher at boarding school, Mrs Robyn Collins.  

She really turned me “on” to English.  Mrs Collins challenged me, helped me and inspired me to push the boundaries.  She even let me turn in a major assessment piece entitled, “Why every guy should read at least one Mills and Boon.”  How many high school English teachers would let you do that?  


When did you write your first book?

I was in my early twenties when I wrote my first book.  I never finished it.  I wrote about five chapters and got way laid.  What sort of romance novel?  You guessed it.  A Mills and Boon.  In fact I had the whole thing mapped out to the “formula”, but I never finished it.  I don’t even know where it is anymore and that’s probably where it should stay.  


So why Finding Trust?

To be honest I’m not sure.  I’m not the sort of person that sits and wonders why I’m doing something. I’m either doing it, or I’m not.  I felt the need to write so I did.  I started the novel with a very vague idea of what was going to happen.  

The Hendra virus was something that I was dealing with in part of my life at the time and my mind as it often does, got wandering and wondered – what if?  And hence the premise for the plot was born.  

I wrote the first four chapters 2008.  A few people knew I’d started it but I said nothing more.  A few things happened and I got very busy with work and Boards and the novel got put away.  

Last year I had a bit of a reprioritisation in my life and I suddenly had a little bit of free time on my hands.  For those who know me, they’re rolling around on the floor laughing right now.  You see I own an IT company and I’m just in the process of starting another with a good friend.  I also have a husband and two small children plus many other things happening in my life.  So free time for me is a serious joke.  

Some how I found the time and wrote most of it in September 2012.  I booked the editor for the end of January 2013.  Then put the novel away for the next few months.  I had to write software specifications and project plans.  Very non- romance.  

Over Christmas/New Year, I wrote the last five chapters and epilogue.  I did this in six, three hour stints when the kids went to bed each night.  And on the 5th January at around 11pm, I declared Finding Trust finished.    

My husband had been saying for weeks, “Just write the end.”  Well he’s not a reader so he just didn’t get that you can’t do that.  Besides Rihanna and Brayden wouldn’t have that one little bit.  

What’s even funnier was that my husband wanted to open a bottle of Vintage Champagne earlier that afternoon.  (We both love champagne – sometimes guys like it too!).  Anyway I convinced him to hold out until I finished.  So I woke him up off the lounge and we celebrated the finish together.  

Now who do you think I told next?  My FaceBook friends, of course.
And that is the story of how Finding Trust came about.  


What did I learn through the process?

I learnt that I love to write.  That even if I have no idea what’s going to happen in the story, if I sit down at the computer and let the characters take over, they’ll tell me what to write.    

I only hope the same process works as well for Finding Judgement.  I’m working on this one now.  I’m planning to have it published around late June/July.  And I have strong concepts for book three and four in the Centre Games series.  

I hope you enjoy Finding Trust.  I’m really enjoying writing Finding Judgement right now.  

FINDING TRUST Brayden and Rihanna:  

He’s hot, sexy, and leads a double life. Sometimes in the limelight, mostly in the shadows. Brayden James holds fast to a secret that’s more than his to share. 


She’s a singularly focused veterinarian out for a rare night of fun with friends, at a New Year’s Eve rock concert. Going home with the lead guitarist was furthest thing from Rihanna Mason’s mind when the night began. 


When Rihanna inadvertently becomes the target of a deadly terrorist plot using the Hendra virus as a biological weapon, Brayden is forced to reveal his other life. His job is to keep her safe and together they must stop the terrorists before it’s too late. But what happens when she becomes more to him than just the assignment? Will the secret he cannot disclose ultimately prove too much for Rihanna’s fragile trust in relationships? Or will he finally break through the double brick walls around her heart, where every other man has failed?

KINDLE PRINT

Lisa Eugene on Life, Writing & Keeping It... Strictly Business

Please join me in welcoming Lisa Eugene, author of STRICTLY BUSINESS, as she gives us a glimpse into the busy life of being a writer and all that goes into multitasking to make it work. DEALING WITH LIFE/FINDING TIME TO WRITE

Working full time, three kids and a husband (really four kids) makes finding time to write very difficult. Literally, there are many times I’ve taken my laptop into my closet to write.  The problem is that I get so immersed in my characters and my scenes that I forget where I am until a loud voice or a scream (usually a scream) intrudes and I realize that I’m sitting on the floor, in the dark, in the cold, with a pair of slacks wrapped around my neck and my toes tucked into a sweater vest keeping me warm!  Sometimes, I’ll start talking to one of my characters or whoop really loud because one of them has done something hilarious. That’s usually a dead giveaway that mommy’s in the closet again.  There are times when my kids will come in to ask me questions then leave and pull the door close.

Overall, my family has been very understanding about the time I need, and about how I get so engrossed in my characters. My little one especially, because he may get to sneak an extra cookie without mommy noticing. He hasn’t realized yet that I count them! My husband can get a little surly, especially if I accidently call him by my current hero’s name (I’ve learned that’s a total no-no!) The only way to placate him is to remind him that all my heroes are absolutely gorgeous and well endowed. I beg him to for forgiveness because…hmmm…the similarities are just so close.  That usually puts a smile on his face and I’m free to return to my closet! 

The problem is that I never know where creativity will strike or where the end to a crazy scene will finally become clear. It could be while I’m at the playground with my son, or at work, or in the bath. My husband says I go into a trance and my eyes start to roll excitedly.  Just because I stare straight ahead and block out the world I wouldn’t call it a trance. Doesn’t every writer do that? At any given time I may have a bag full of coffee cups with scribbles, napkins with paragraphs written in eyeliner, or yes even leaves with strange markings that is only recognizable to me! These things I will protect with my life until I’m able to get to my laptop and God save the person who accidentally tosses them out!!! Spontaneous creativity may only strike once! 

STRICTLY BUSINESS Conservative Emergency Room Physician, Nina Henley has always followed the rules. Her life has been dictated by her unwavering commitment to medicine. Wade Connolly, renowned medical malpractice attorney and 'New York’s sexiest bachelor' enters her life and challenges her with his bold sexuality and intense passion. One look into his gorgeous blue eyes and Nina is forced to acknowledge needs that have long been repressed. When she becomes involved in Wade’s perilous malpractice case she realizes that she is at risk for not only heartbreak, but betrayal as everything she's worked so hard for is threatened. Will Wade's passion and love be enough to save her or will she lose everything…including her life?

Available now on KINDLE EXCERPT (Caveat: adult content):

      Professional, she kept repeating to herself. Gorgeous and huge! Another voice kept insinuating itself into her overheated brain. The air in the room was thick and the only sound that echoed off the walls was the steady rhythm of their mingled breaths. Nina moaned as he lifted her top, exposing her black lace bra. Cool air teased her hot skin, making her shiver. A finger tormented her nipple and she was sure she whispered “please” before he groaned huskily and closed his mouth over her breast.

Caught in a cloud that was all sensation and need, she trailed her fingers down to the waistband of his pants.

 “God…I want you. Where can we go? Is it safe in here?” His husky breath floated against the shell of her ear, sending a hazy buzz along her skin.

The loud jingle of the beeper hanging precariously from her scrub bottoms sliced through the moment like a sledgehammer. They both stared at each other, stunned, wide eyed, and wanting.. She exhaled an unsteady breath as she skimmed a hand over her hair, ignoring the jab of several pens. She quickly checked the state of her scrubs. She couldn’t believe that she’d acted so impetuously—like a sex starved lunatic!  Remorse stabbed at her. Thoughts of her promising career and the life she'd built all twirled around in her head like a frenzied tornado, threatening to disappear into the fuzzy distance...

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Meet Poppet & Her Spectacular New Addition to The Valhalla Series

Win a copy of The Master of Miasma
Comment to enter It is my honor and great pleasure to introduce an author whose talent and storytelling skills stand heads and shoulders above the competition.

Poppet's THE MASTER OF UMBRA is Book 2 in the spectacular, riveting and mind-bending The Valhalla Series which draws from Norse and other mythologies in new and fantabulous ways. 

let's find out more about the series and this book in particular. Title: Master of Umbra by Poppet
Genre: Paranormal Romance

Deliah is in grave danger, running for her life from a man who needs her dead, when serendipity plants her in the path of the Master of Umbra.

Inducted into the mysterious Eagle clan of the Scottish highlands, Deliah is torn between her fate and destiny when kin clash for her affections. Falling for the scandalous villain who heads the Berserkers of the Hebrides, her fragile hope is snuffed out early by revelation and impending war.

The only mantra she can cling to is the one uttered in heartfelt promise; that love comes back.

Because that's what love does.
KINDLE US KINDLE UK And here is a very special treat! 
Listen to Poppet read a selection from Master of Umbra Excerpt:

“What do you want?” he snaps, in that impatient drawl.

“Er... I can't get confrontational in the dark,” I mumble, losing courage.

“I bet you're plenty confrontational in the dark.” Gripping my arm in the 'master is not pleased' grind, he marches me deeper into the darkness, muttering, “Dressed like that only reinforces the image.”

“What's wrong with the way I'm dressed?” I argue, wishing he'd slow down already.

He laughs, and it's cold, “Sweetie, it looks like you're either going to put me over your knee, or beg me to put you over mine.”

“Oh go get knotted–”

“Did you leave any beer in the vat when you finished sucking it dry? Ulfhednar head is white and frothy, just the way you like it.”

“I did not–”

“You're more baked than clay and you're going to be just as dehydrated come sunup. What the hell were you thinking?” he chastises, hauling me into a grotto ready to raise the dead. Candles and steam haunt the room like old lovers getting nostalgic.

“What the hell was I thinking?” Now you've done it mister twat. “I was thinking you require trepanning so you can deflate your fucking ego.”

He turns to scowl down at me, his chest embroidered with white scars which map bridges over his extreme musculature. I'm trying very hard not to gawk, but bleedin' heck, he looks like an action man who grew up on a uranium farm, except of course for the tortured gaze he pegs me with when he folds his arms and bursts veins out in wild rivulets. They ridge in the flickering candlelight, shadowing his bulk with a net of strength.

What was he doing here exactly, in just his baggies?

Fuck! Was he expecting his date to show up and I walked in where I'm not welcome?

Links to Poppet:

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Read a Review of 
The Valhalla Series: Master of Umbra & 
Master of Miasma
Sand in My Shoes Reviews Don't forget to comment to enter to win an eBook copy of THE MASTER OF UMBRA (The Valhalla Series)

Meet Erin O'Quinn & Her Amazing World of The Gaslight Mysteries

Please join me in welcoming Erin O'Quinn who has penned an amazing M/M romantic comedy adventure series: The Gaslight Mysteries. Book One is Heart to Hart which takes place in a fictional town in Ireland in the 1920's.

Erin, I am intrigued by the setting. You chose a fictional Irish town in the early 1920’s. Knowing your love for all things Eire, I am not surprised at the choice. However, how did you go about fashioning this town? What kind of research did you do to get the kind of authentic details that set your period pieces apart from others?

My choice was based partly on laziness and partly on cunning. No way could I re-create a Dublin, or a Belfast, without every Irishman in the Old Country finding a wrong street, a mis-named pub, a nonexistent bridge. So I chose a fantasy city I whimsically named “Dun Linden,” a Gaelic-sounding place name to be sure. Dun is Irish-Gaelic for “fort” and my imaginary River Linden runs through the city and into the sea. Is it in Northern Ireland? On the east coast? I ain’t telling.

The city took form as I wrote, rather than the other way around. It has a few important streets and landmarks—North Street, the location of the men’s office . . . Number 3 Rolling, the site of their flat . . .  Kell Pádraig, the church whose bells can be heard on the hour throughout the entire city . . . and several other locations which loom large in the novel and especially in the sequel. Every one of them is pure invention.

As for details, I largely made ’em up. I looked at pictures of taxicabs, trams, buildings, clothing, and let them guide my imagination as I wrote. Certain details, like a nine-hole golf course and a newspaper linotype, are very realistic for the time. But were the gaslights really torn down close to the docks, as I say? Were the sidewalks there no more than heaped gravel and worse?My heart tells me yes. Was there an “uppity-muppity” section of town (an adjective I invented)? Surely there had to be. Were brick buildings half-way demolished by assault-rifle fire? Again,given the era, they had to be.

Other details of the 1920s were common throughout the UK:  Gaslights, of course, even though electricity had been invented. The sport of fisticuffs. Jock straps, would you believe. The existence of gentlemen’s clubs. The rough “water closets” containing cast-iron bathtubs and toilets. Victorian-style buildings whose upper stories were used as apartments. Each of these details raveled out as I began to put my guys in different settings to give the story interest and texture.

And why the 1920’s?

Ah, that is an excellent question. Most people know that the Irish people have suffered a long and violent history. I don’t want to name names and point fingers, but the era especially from 1915 until 1921 was rife with turmoil. Events like the Easter Rising and the war for Irish independence shaped every man’s life and livelihood. 

But damn it, I wanted to craft a love story. I did not want to put my men in black and tan outfits or pit father against son. So I bypassed the history almost completely, and my book makes only a few vague references to assault rifles and unrest. That’s why it’s a fantasy, almost an alternate history. “What if the troubles had not happened?” I address that issue in the prologue.

Anyway, Diane, the crux of the crime in my book—the theft of war-time morphine—depends on a specific time a few years after the end of WWI. I chose Beltane: May 1, 1923  as the beginning of my story. A day for lovers. 

Since this is a mystery, as well as a M/M romcom, did you approach the plotting differently, ie., did you outline the mystery elements, did you have a specific narrative arc to carry the clues from one scene to another? In other words, howdja do it?

I admit I’ve never written a mystery before. So I relied on two factors: my imagination, always dangerous. And my husband’s love of history and detail. I came up with the “petty” crimes (the dog snatchers, the blackmail, the assault of the stupid attacker). Bil devised a rather convoluted plot involving stolen morphine, laundered money, slick international transactions—most of which I tossed out and narrowed to a simple “who shot Sargent?” 

As you can imagine, I needed to have a few crimes up my sleeve before I started to write, so I could weave them into the fabric of the story. The most important one by far was the crime of the murdered partner. That one I actually made into a small (very small) drama so the guys could find a few clues to trace back to the killer.

I’m astonished to say that somehow, it all worked itself out.

Michael is a truly unique and very engaging character, with so many depths. Did you have trouble holding back and not revealing too much about that secret life we have only hints about?

First, thanks for the compliment. I love Michael, because he seems to be the quintessential Irishman whereas in fact, he plays hard at being misjudged. Who would guess that a horny roustabout had a certain education and a certain training? And you are right. I had to force myself to reveal only smidgens of Michael as the story progressed, whenever the alternating pov took us to his perspective. And up until the time when Simon actually forces his hand, the readers have only small clues to his mystery. That was a hoot—a mystery within a mystery.

I will admit to Simon being my favorite. That kind of uptight (okay, let’s call it ‘stick up the ass’ and be done with it) ’tude is somewhat unusual for a main character. What did you do to pull off making him a sympathetic character while still holding onto certain qualities which are not exactly ‘endearing’?

Again, a compliment from an outstanding writer. I’m honored.

Simon is the product of an organic author. He morphed as I wrote, so that the reader sees him, too, grow and change as the story progresses. The secret is that I love Simon, too, warts and all. He is much more than a sexually repressed man who has suffered a life-changing trauma. He has depths, experience and a certain humor that Michael—and the reader—see as the books progress. I say “books” because by now, I’m into the third, and Simon still surprises me and Michael too. 

Can you ferret out a brief passage that epitomizes the relationship between the two?

I’ll fall back on a passage containing my log line, here printed in red. This occurs early in the book, when Michael is still flippant about his buried emotions and Simon still finds any excuse to be angry: 

“Get up, you lying bastard. You’ve been going through my personal life again, haven’t you?”

Michael stood. Simon’s fists were balled, and his mouth looked even surlier and sexier than ever. Michael decided love bites were definitely how Simon should dress. Love bites and a jock strap. He looked deep into angry eyes and lied. “I told ye, lad, I’ve found all I ever wanted. No need to look farther.”

With so many authors delving into the M/M dynamic, can you explain what it is about this genre that appeals to you in particular?

I wish I could explain it to my own satisfaction. I find that after writing one M/M novel, I’ve never gone back to the M/F variety of erotica. There is . . . something . . . about two men together, something alien to my own direct experience but which cries inside the heart, needing to be loosed.

First, I am a lover of men. Not a hussy, you understand, but an admirer of the male body and a seeker of understanding of the male psyche. My books try to hammer out a man from the bits and pieces inside of myself and my experiences. (I swear to God, just then I typed “butts and pieces,” so much for Freudian revelations.)

Second, it is one helluva challenge to try to write a love story of two men. What do they say? What do they do? What turns ’em on? Off? What would they say in the moment of ecstasy? Or would they speak at all? They surely are different from women, but exactly how? And can I engage the senses of readers of both sexes as I tell their story?

Third, and last, I think I am morphing as a person the longer I write. Somehow I am becoming a channeler into souls. That sounds pretentious, so let me explain. When I read my “early” stuff, I notice here and there a character who is intriguing and who has huge potential—usually one of the minor characters, or one on the edge. And now, the more I write, the more I can actually crawl under the skin of that character and make him/her very real. It just so happens that the person is usually a man instead of a woman. Odd, but I’m running with it.

Thanks so much for visiting with us, Erin. It was a real pleasure!

Vintage Condoms (Erin O'Quinn)

Thanks to Erin 'O'Quinn and her excellent blog on a fascinating topic: Vintage Condoms. 
Find the original blog post HERE Historians of such esoteric subjects agree that condoms were first used for prevention of pregnancy, and by wealthy men only. That makes sense, since women were naturally held to the task of avoiding impregnation, and only wealthy men might wish to keep their seed from being spread outside the marriage bed.

Early condoms, perhaps worn first in ancient China, were apparently small devices that covered the glans only, made from oiled silk paper or lamb intestines. Later, in Japan, they were made of tortoise shell or animal horn. Ouch . . . not for the wearer, but for the receiver!

When a particularly deadly strain of syphilis broke out in Europe in the late 15th century, condoms began to be developed to stop the spread of this disease. One treatise describes linen sheaths soaked in chemicals and allowed to dry. These devices, which covered the glans only, were tied on with a ribbon, giving a whole new meaning to the words baby’s bonnet.
After 1500, penis protection became much more widespread throughout Europe. They were called “condoms” gradually, starting in the mid-1600s; and they might be made of animal intestines and bladders, or of linen. Here’s an interesting note from Wiki: 

“In the late 15th century, Dutch traders introduced condoms made from “fine leather” to Japan. Unlike the horn condoms used previously, these leather condoms covered the entire penis.” The notorious philanderer Cassanova was proud of his “assurance caps,” and was reported to have given demonstrations by blowing into them, proudly showing their lack of holes (see photo).


In spite of opposition—mainly from the clergy—condoms, once developed, multiplied quickly. According to Wiki, they “were sold at pubs, barbershops, chemist shops, open-air markets, and at the theater throughout Europe and Russia.” Once they spread to America, land of invention and individuality, condoms became more and more sophisticated.
Skipping ahead a bit, I want to discuss the use of condoms in my Gaslight Mysteries novels. In the first novel HEART TO HART, Michael slips a clumsy latex condom out of his dresser drawer. It seems that, since the mid 1800’s and Charles Goodyear’s discovery of processing natural rubber, condoms could be made of stretched rubber, wrapped around the penis and held in place with a rubber ring. These early condoms were thick as a bicycle inner tube. One imagines that while one partner might enjoy the enlargement, the other might suffer the indignity of feeling nothing at all.

Anyway, by the time Michael was seducing Simon, condoms began to be made from latex, rubber suspended in water rather than in gasoline or benzene. These protective devices were stronger, thinner, and had a shelf life up to five years.

In my next novel (still unpubbed) SPARRING WITH SHADOWS, Michael slyly leaves a package for his flatmate. It’s a condom made of thin animal bladder, the latest in American-made protection, thin enough and pliable enough to ensure the man’s pleasure as well as the other obvious benefits.

Many of the photos that follow are taken from the following website: http://www.ep.tc/condom-envelopes/ a gallery of images assembled by Ethan Persoff, http://www.ep.tc

Thanks, Ethan. I “use” them with gratitude.

Just a note: The U.S.-manufactured Sheik and Ramses brands were well established by 1882.  Trojans, also developed in America, were popular then as now. (As a USC grad, I have to add here: Go! Trojans!)

Paper packaging was, and remains, a popular dispensary for condoms.

In the source listed above, Ethan Persoff notes:

The very interesting book “Remember your rubbers!” (Collectible Condom Containers) by Elliott, Goehring and O’Brien published by Schiffer Publishing Co., strangely does not show any of the examples offered here on eBay by us. Does this mean these are rarer than their tin counterparts?

It also states the following on paper packaging: “Interestingly enough, both the oldest and newest rubber packages are envelopes. India rubbers, latex rubbers and animal membrane prophylactics are found in envelopes. Most hold one dozen rubbers lying flat, though a few can be found with one quarter dozen. “Genuine Liquid Latex” rubbers came packaged with four (rolled) to an envelope and wrapped in cellophane. Rarer are envelopes with a single rubber in the package…”