Lulu M. Sylvian's Blog, page 15
August 13, 2019
Happy Book Birthday Dead Sexy
Dreams with Peter were not the typical mini-movie style of normal dreams. They felt real. I couldn’t distinguish them from an actual memory. Had they actually happened? Where was the line between dream and reality?
I sat cross legged on my bed. Peter sat next to me, he braced his feet against the floor, and gripped the edge of my mattress as if was all that kept him from leaping off into space. He was overwhelmingly sad, all slumped into himself. I didn’t know what to do for him. Pain rolled off him in tangible waves.
I stroked his back and murmured comforting sounds. I don’t know how long we sat like that. I don’t remember how we got there, but it had been the same for several nights in a row now. Sometimes, I would be tucked up under blankets, sometimes, I would sit next to him. We would sit, and though I don’t remember actually talking, we talked. Peter told me all about his life, and I told him about mine. Tonight was different, he didn’t speak.
I leaned against his back, and tried to rub the tension out of his arm. His grip was so hard I was afraid he would rip my bedding. He snatched his arm up and away from me like a cat. I let him, I didn’t want to hurt him.
“I don’t know what to do for you, Peter.” Probably a stupid thing to say, but I didn’t know what to do. My heart broke for him.
He shook his head. “It’s not fair. It’s just not fair.”
I didn’t exactly know what he was talking about, and yet, I knew he meant having died. When he turned to me, his eyes were rimmed with dark pink. Full of pain and tears.
I adjusted myself on the bed and reached up to guide him down to my lap. His legs stretched out, and hung over the end of my bed. His head rested on my thigh, his breath hot against my skin. With out of focus eyes, he stared into the void.
I stroked his hair, and watched his face. Even in his sadness, he was beautiful, and large. I tried to soothe him until the texture of his shaggy hair made my fingertips go numb. Are men’s heads always so big? Why did I think the weirdest things at the most inopportune moments?
I whispered, “I’d help you if I knew what you needed.”
He rolled his face into my leg. I could feel his body quake.
I curled over him and held him the best I could. He hurt, and somehow, he found me. I felt like there was a reason for this, and I wanted to help.
I rolled over and woke with a snort. My dream of holding Peter was replaced with the reality of my bedroom in the middle of the night and David’s naked shoulder in front of me. I reached up to pet his skin. How different these two men were—one so very real, and one in so much pain.
©2019 Lulu M Sylvian
Available from your favorite online bookseller
https://books2read.com/u/3GeYgd
August 5, 2019
Dead Sexy -the Blog Tour
and here are those links:
https://astronimasclutter.wordpress.com
https://urbanbookreviewsrus.wordpress.com
https://wandererinneverland.wordpress.com/
https://jessicabooksblog.wordpress.com
Givemecoffeegivemebooks.wordpress.com
http://www.waywardreviews.wordpress.com
And come back here for the wrap-up party on August 16th!
July 19, 2019
June 25, 2019
An Improper Derailment Chapter 6
Chapter 6
Where Mary departs her sister’s home.
Get up to date with Chapter 5
or start the serial from the beginning here.
Mary pulled on her gloves. Her hat was already pinned in place. With every single one of Janey’s tears, another steel rod metaphorically lashed to Mary’s spine. It was going to hurt if she stood up any straighter.
“I’ll never see you again,” Janey wailed.
Mary cooly looked at her sister. She wanted nothing more than to dissolve and collapse to the floor holding her sister and dearest confidant close. But the way Janey chose to carry on was beginning to grind on Mary’s last nerve. Besides, she refused to arrive at the station and have that dreadful Marshall Hunt catch any hint of evidence that she had been crying.
She was distraught enough as it was, yet somehow bettering that man gave her strength.
“You said that at your wedding in San Francisco before Charles whisked you back here to the bosom of his family. And look, I came for such a wonderfully prolonged visit. Once we have children we shall see each other again. We are family dear sister. And by rail, it really isn’t that taxing or difficult of a journey. No more covered wagons.” She was surprised she hadn’t completed her tidy little speech with a ‘tsk, tsk now.’
“You will write to me every day.” Janey pleaded.
“I will document every step of my journey. Dear Janey, you really must stop crying. You will get me started and then where will we be? You know I cannot possibly go out in public with pink-rimmed eyes and sniffling nose.”
She turned her attention to Charles. The man positively had the same good-humored cast about his visage as if they were discussing shares in the Superior Holdings Company or a tea war in China. She would never share her innermost thoughts, but she did sincerely believe that Charles was more than just a hint dim-witted.
“Thank you for hosting me, Charles. And for making such lovely introductions to your friends. Please pass my regards on to Mr. Peterson. I regret the way we left things. It had rather been a taxing afternoon. I rather hope my situation does not, how would he say it? Put a wrench in the works for your friendship.”
After all Pythagorus Peterson had been about to make a proposal, Mary was certain of it. And had that dreaded telegraph from her interfering old grandfather not shown up, she would have been in a position to accept and marry into one of the wealthiest families in Chicago. In the United States even.
Oh, she hoped Grandfather knew what he had tossed a wrench into. She was sure to give him an earful the second she debarked from the rattley, smelly train she was confined to for the next several days.
“I dare say it had been. I’m sure Py will understand fully. There are some decisions a man shouldn’t delay in making.” Charles positively chuckled.
“Are you sure we can’t accompany you to the station?” Janey sniffed.
“There’s no time dear sister. Besides, you would feel positively awful if someone should see you making a fuss.” The sisters had been raised never to be seen making a fuss. They were allowed to wallow all they wanted, but never where they might be seen by anyone of social ranking. It was bad enough Janey was carrying on where the help could see.
Mary turned and nodded her head ever so slightly to Henrietta the maid, and Barclay the butler. “Thank you for your help during my stay.” While not expected, Mary found it to be quite rude to not thank the help occasionally.
“It’s been a pleasure miss. Safe travels,” Henrietta said. That last comment may have been a little too familiar. Maybe thanking the help didn’t need to happen. Mary scrunched up her face as she contemplated this new concept.
“Your bags have been sent on to the station. Everything has been arranged for your arrival,” the butler said. That was more like it. A proper interaction.
“Looks like your carriage has arrived,” Charles announced.
Another earth-shattering wail escaped from Janey’s lips. The poor dear would have to spend the rest of the day in her chambers recovering. Mary felt moisture form at the corner of her eye. Her sister really was taking this all to heart so extremely.
“I do hate goodbyes.” She wrapped her fragile willed sister in a firm embrace and squeezed. She didn’t want to go either. Chicago was so much more exciting than home. And Janey was here.
She broke off the hug and dabbed at her eyes.
“Well then.” She nodded at Barclay indicating he could open the door.
She stepped onto the porch and hid her disappointment behind a grimace.
It was not a closed carriage as she had requested. Rather an open aired, handsome cab. She openly sneered at the beast before wiping all emotion from her face. She detested ostriches. They left fluffs of feather dander everywhere, and they squawked. Horses were quiet with their huffs and calm whinnies.
The lashings of her spine tightened, and Mary found herself standing even more upright. Well, this was it then. Her last moments in Chicago behind a giant turkey. So be it, no one would see her complain, no matter how much her insides boiled.
©2019 Lulu M Sylvian
Get up to date with Chapter 5
or start the serial from the beginning here.
June 19, 2019
April 30, 2019
April 21, 2019
Legatum on Sale!
For a limited time only, starting today (April 15)
All Legatum ebooks are 99 cents. Protective is still free in most markets
April 5, 2019
Dangerous, release a year ago today!
Family goof-off and all-around playboy Dante has been tasked with finding the missing branches of the family tree. It’s a big tree, but luckily he’s a trained investigator. What he finds instead is Geena. Only she doesn’t understand how important she is to him and she’s slipped through his fingers. Now he wants to drop all his responsibilities and track her down.
Geena’s traveling companions are the trifecta of feminine beauty. They are thin, rich, and stylish. Everything she is not. She’s shocked when the hot guy starts hitting on her. What she doesn’t know yet is that Dante isn’t just a guy. And to him, she’s not just another in a long string of women in his loose past.
Dante has seen the mate glow and he knows what it means. He needs to convince Geena that this time he’s serious. At the same time, he needs to keep his new family members in check before they blow the family lore wide open and expose their secret.
Now Available as ebook
March 27, 2019
Fat shaming, cut that out
Musing from the Bread Cafe.
Fat shaming in the land of reading.
I’m not a fan.
And I am trying really hard to remember when it’s my place to speak up, join in with the pitchforks and torches. Most of the time I don’t have a dog in the fight, and the fight isn’t one that needs my rallying cry. I’m talking about all the “drama” that likes to stir shit up.
Sometimes I don’t want to provide even negative publicity to an incident, so I take myself, do my action, and walk away from the social media posts.
But a lot lately has been showing up and squatting in my path. And while I can take my toys and walk around it, sometimes that’s not gonna work out.
An industry cover model went on a rant fat shaming the world at large, and his clientele. When he said (paraphrasing here), “it’s all just lame ass excuses don’t tell me why you’re fat shut up,” I took him off my covers. I unfriended and unfollowed. Yes, I know he already has my money, so I’m just “hurting” my wallet by recovering. No, I’m saying my characters who have body dysmorphic issues, or weight issues deserve more respect from a picture that represents them.
I didn’t say much (at the time), didn’t announce I was recovering my books, and recreating promo materials, I just did it. Several other cover models spewed similar vitriol, and I hunted their profiles down and made note that those faces would never be on my books.
A few weeks go by and a reader sends a message to an author that they couldn’t meet her at an event because she (the author) had gotten so fat. The reader then proceeded to give this author dieting advice. My blood boiled. How f&&**ing dare that reader shame her for not looking a specific way. So, of course, I had to look up who this author was, and send a message of support. It didn’t matter to me what this author looked like.
I was shocked when I saw what the author looked like. From the post, I had formed a certain look in my head and I expected to see someone my size. She was slightly thinner than average. Read that again: a person with a slightly smaller than average sized body was fat shamed.
I did post a message of solidarity for the author, because …
so many reasons, where do I even begin?
Rude much? Not any of that reader’s business? If that’s fat, I don’t even what to know what they would say about or to me.
And that’s the big one right there: If someone feels they can shame an average sized author for not appearing to meet some random personal fitness standards, what the hell is going to happen when I show up?
I’m fat. Big, large, plus sized. Have been most of my life.
And before anyone says by showing up, and living, and not hiding in a hole that I’m somehow promoting an unhealthy lifestyle, that’s some serious bullshit right there.
My health, my struggle, or my acceptance of my size is not out there as some excuse for consumption. I do not need to share my A1C numbers so that readers can decide if they want my books or not. My books are not about me. If they were they would be memoirs, and they aren’t. And if they were, all the heroines would be BBW redheads and all the heroes would have rocker-long black hair, they don’t.
Fat shaming, and all hate needs to go away. That shit is not cool. It is not the last acceptable prejudice that people can roll out, because it is not acceptable.
I’ve been stewing and thinking about whether I was going to post this or not, because it’s personal. How much am I willing to expose? How big of a dog do I have in this fight?
My dog is pretty big, and while I may not get online and rant and rave, I will be quietly in the back, slashing tires, and undermining the foundations in other ways.
Learning to be unapologetically one’s self is hard enough as it is. Shamers need to take a lesson from Thumper: If you can say anything nice, keep your trap shut!
March 19, 2019
Cover Reveal: Wolves of Wet Waterfalls
a minuscule magical municipality,
hidden in the Wind River Range of Wyoming.
Monsters are real, and love is magic.
Wolves of Wet Waterfalls is a sexy hot reverse harem novella series.
The three stories in the novella trilogy are Stealing Joy, Finding Home, and Ending Torment.
Available for presale!
AMAZON – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07PRNPJPZ
KOBO – https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/stealing-joy
NOOK – https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/books/1130910736?ean=2940161176078
APPLE BOOKS – https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/stealing-joy/id1456136609?mt=11
GOOGLE – https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Lulu_M_Sylvian_Stealing_Joy?id=fNWMDwAAQBAJ&hl=en
