Jyvur Entropy's Blog, page 27

The Most Important Qualities

I’m not sure why I feel like writing about this right now. But I do, so I shall.

Photo by Anete Lusina on Pexels.com

Of all the qualities a person could have, there are just a couple that I value really highly, both in myself (and I strive to be a person who exhibits these qualities consistently) and in others.

Intelligence is not one of these qualities. Sure, I’m drawn to intelligent people, and sure intelligence is attractive. I don’t believe I’m especially intelligent (really, I just wear glasses and say a lot of shit with confidence-y’all are thrown off by the Thelma vibes, but I’m actually really a dumbass). Intelligence is cool and all, but it’s definitely not one of the most important qualities. Smart people can be real shitheads. Smart people can use all of those smarts to manipulate. Intelligence alone doesn’t make a wonderful person.

Ambition is not one of those qualities. Ambition is also an attractive trait. Ambition is something I’d like to have more of myself. Ambition isn’t a bad quality. But whether a person is ambitious or not doesn’t truly tell you anything about their heart.

Kindness is not one of those qualities. I do not consider myself a “nice” person. To be honest, I don’t believe many truly kind/nice people actually exist. I think what we actually have are many cowardly people, afraid to let other people know what they really think. Kindness is usually just fakeness. Kind people have the same amount of mean, insulting thoughts that I do. They just don’t express them. I believe they should. Kindness is not a quality I admire. At least, not when it isn’t genuine….

Genuine

The quality I most admire in other people, and the one that I hope to consistently exhibit myself is that of being genuine. Genuine people speak their mind. Genuine people don’t change their views based on who they are talking to (either to impress or to argue-some people want to always agree, some want to always disagree, and people like this will sacrifice ideological consistency in order to do one or the other). Genuine people will say what they believe to be right and true, regardless of how other people react to it, regardless of how this expression of their views could help or hinder their reputation. Genuine people show you who they are. It’s more than honesty. It’s a way of being that is wholly authentic at all times.

I always admire genuine people. Or (at times) people I perceive to be genuine.

Genuine people are not manipulative. They won’t pretend to be your friend when they can’t stand you. They don’t bite their tongue. They don’t hide how they feel.

I get quite a lot of “Jyvur, be nice.” I’m not nice, but I am genuine. People know where they stand with me. And I wish everybody was like that. I once had a guy at work ask, “You don’t like me, do you?” and I replied, “Honestly? No. But it’s fine. We don’t have to talk.” And I responded that way because I value being someone that people always know where they stand with. If I talk shit about you, you probably already know I don’t like you. If I’m happy and bubbly to your face, you’ll probably never catch me saying a bad word about you. I think everyone should be like that. Everyone should be upfront with how they feel and who they are.

Everyone should be genuine.

And I don’t know why, but this is the single most important quality to me. Once I realize a person is not genuine, I lose all respect for them. (And because I myself am a genuine person, they can usually tell).

Integrity

The second most important quality a person can have is integrity.

A person with integrity has a moral compass. This can be a very subjective moral compass, but it’s a moral compass nonetheless. They consider the ethics of a situation before proceeding. They have lines they will not cross.

To give you an example of my own, back when I was still writing my book ‘Incel’ I decided early on that I’d never make money from that book. I decided that if I self-published it, I wouldn’t even recoup the losses of paying for editing/graphic design/formatting/marketing/etc.

The idea of financially profiting off the emotional pain of other people didn’t sit right with me. And I wish I’d considered this aspect sooner in the writing process, but as I got further along, the idea of profiting in other ways started to bother me. I expanded my platform off that book. I became more well-known. Maybe not by a lot, but I profited from that book.

Worse than that, I realized my motives for writing it in the first place were not altruistic. I profited emotionally from writing that book. I had many problems in my personal life that needed to be sorted out, and instead of dealing with them, I got this weird emotional bandaid from lurking on incel forums. I got a thrill out of talking to people from that side of the internet. And yes, I’ll admit it, I enjoyed the male attention. I don’t like that about myself, and it wasn’t conscious. It was there, but I did a very good job of hiding all of that from myself. The cognitive dissonance is real. I convinced myself that I was writing that book for the right reasons.

I really want to be a person with integrity, and integrity means having a static moral compass; it means owning up to mistakes, it means taking accountability, and it means guiding all of your actions based on what you believe to be right and true.

For whatever reason, I believe it is wrong to benefit from the emotional pain of others. That’s a fundamental component of my moral compass. But I did benefit from the emotional pain of others. I abstracted pain that wasn’t mine as an excuse to talk to a group of people that I found interesting, that gave me a sense of validation and emotional catharsis. That’s why I wrote it. For me. For my own sad little life.

So that’s a big part of why I had to trash that book, and why I feel a need to talk about it. I want to be the kind of person who owns up.

Listen, we are ALL shitty. We all have flaws. We all do the wrong thing sometimes.

That’s where integrity comes in.

People with integrity say, “I fucked up here.” They say “I was selfish and was only thinking about my own feelings.”

Because if everybody fucks up, integrity is what people can exhibit to show “I’m a human, and so I fuck up, but I want to do what’s right.”

I want to be genuine and I want to have integrity. These are the most important qualities to me.

I admire others with these traits, because every other quality is nothing without them.

It doesn’t matter how smart, “kind”, intuitive, or hardworking a person is. If they are sneaky and fake, it doesn’t matter. There are a lot of very smart shitheads. If they can’t own up to their own faults and mistakes, it doesn’t matter.

Be genuine. Have integrity. That’s the best any person can do.

A Contemporary Beauty and the Beast Retelling (complete with a Castle and everything)

I’m a teensy bit late with my spotlight (oops! This is what I get for over-extending myself in an effort to stay busy and as an acquaintance so aptly put it ‘get back to your usual cheerful self’….I’ll never stop being amazed that the mental picture most people have off of me is ‘cheerful’ and ‘goofy’ and ‘lighthearted’ but moving on….I’ve piled a little too much on my plate a couple of things have fallen through the cracks, but that doesn’t mean I can’t shout this book out now!)

So this is a book that was recently released by my friend’s publisher. She got me the hook-up and got me on their list of book bloggers and I was super excited for that. This was the first new release I signed up to spotlight, because the combination of the setting and premise grabbed my interest right away. I mean, come on, it’s set in a castle. This basic bitch loves to see characters bang in castles. That’s really all I want in this world. Let me just read people smushing in pretty castles.

Anyway, scroll to the bottom of the post for a giveaway!

The Au Pair and the Beast

Aurora Russell – https://www.firstforromance.com/index.php?route=product/author/info&author_id=11722

General Release Date: 23rd February 2021

Word Count: 54,799

Book Length: NOVEL

Pages: 205

Genres:  BILLIONAIRE, CHICK LIT, CONTEMPORARY, EROTIC ROMANCE, FAIRYTALES

Goodreads Link: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/56522356-the-au-pair-and-the-beast

Book Description

Veronica’s new job comes with a darling little boy, a Gothic castle and…a beast?

When recently laid-off Francophile Veronica Carson is recommended for an au pair job by the elegant leader of her French conversation group, she isn’t sure what to expect—but a Gothic castle deep in the wilds of Maine is certainly not it. Still, she’s drawn in by her joyful little charge, Jean-Philippe, and even more drawn to his brooding father.

Ruthlessly successful businessman Alain Reynard has loved before and has no wish to repeat the painful experience. The tragedy of his recent past is still fresh in his mind, and he wants nothing to do with his son’s lovely new au pair. Despite his best efforts, though, he can’t seem to get her off his mind.

A passionate romance begins to blossom but is put to the test when painful reminders of Alain’s past return. As ugly rumors swirl, the truths of the past and the present collide. Veronica must decide if Alain really is a beast and, if so, whether she can love him enough to break through the dark memories and secrets that tether him to what once was.

Excerpt

“Wait… He’s sending his own car and driver to pick you up from the train station? And take you to his castle? How deliciously Gothic! It’s probably set high up on some cliffs, overlooking an impossibly picturesque view of waves crashing onto the rocks.”

Veronica quirked her lips into a smile at Katrin’s words as they crackled through her cell phone, the reception seeming to go in and out as she rode along. Her best friend had a pronounced flair for the dramatic, which had only been enhanced by a number of drama classes in college.

“Well, when you put it that way…it does sound pretty glamorous,” she laughingly agreed. “If it looks anything like that, I’ll definitely text a picture of the view, complete with fog and sea spray.”

Her friend’s answering chuckle was amused. “How does Madame Montreaux know this guy again?”

Thinking back on it, Veronica wasn’t sure the woman who led her French conversation group had ever actually told her…not specifically, anyway. “Weird. I’m not really sure… She just pulled me aside after our group one day and mentioned she’d heard about a job she thought I might be perfect for, you know, since she knew I’d lost my job when Dumfries & Partners was acquired. I got the impression—maybe just from her voice or something?—that he’s some sort of family friend, but she was super skimpy on details.” She drummed her fingers on her armrest as she considered. “I had to sign a confidentiality agreement before they even sent me the job description.”

“Hmm-m.” The one short word seemed filled with both skepticism and suspicion. “How old are the kids?”

“Just one child. A boy. I think he’s four… Not in school yet, but he goes to preschool.”

Veronica watched as the increasingly rural and wooded landscape flew by outside the window. The day was gray and dreary, but the beauty of the wilds of Maine was still undeniable. The well-modulated, incongruously feminine automated voice of the announcer came over the loudspeakers.

“Next stop, Grant’s Cliff. Grant’s Cliff is a flagged stop. Please notify the conductor if you are getting off at this stop.”

Excitement and nerves combined into one powerful spark that set off a flurry of butterflies in Veronica’s stomach, even as she stood and started to gather up her things.

“Sorry, K… Gotta go. They just called my stop. Call you later, okay?”

“Yes! Call, text, everything… I’ll be waiting impatiently to hear that you haven’t been chained up in this guy’s basement—or dungeon. Whatever. Be careful! And good luck!”

Cradling the phone between her shoulder and cheek as she reached for her bag from the overhead storage, Veronica barked a laugh, and it was muffled. “Thank you?”

“Anytime! Bye!”

“Bye,” Veronica answered, letting her bag drop into the seat and clicking to end the call on her phone. And it seemed it wasn’t a moment too soon as she caught the conductor’s eye and the train began to slow. She’d told him earlier where she was getting off and she was glad she had, since it didn’t look like anyone else on the train was making a move to leave. Grant’s Cliff was apparently not a popular destination.

“Right this way, miss.” The conductor’s weathered face creased into a kindly smile as he motioned her with one work-hardened hand.

“Thanks.” She gave an answering grin and slipped the strap of her suitcase over her shoulder crosswise, sliding it to her back so she could hurry down the center aisle more easily. “Am I the only one getting off?”

“A-yup,” he said, his Maine accent plain. She thought that was all he’d say, but as she stepped out of the open door onto the small platform, she heard him add, “Not much out here nowadays, apart from the castle and the beast.”

Startled, she turned back, but the doors had already swished closed and the train began to pull away. Okay then.

She turned back and surveyed the deserted station. It was really more of a booth set next to a concrete slab platform with steps leading up to it. The metal sign for the station name was no bigger than a street sign and looked weathered. The dreary day had given way to fog, and now that the train had left, the only sound was the muffled rustling of the wind through thousands of trees. Where the heck is the driver? she wondered. Even as she looked around, half of her mind was still on the conductor’s strange words. What did he mean by the beast? Why hasn’t anyone else mentioned it? Is this, like, a hotspot for sasquatch hunters? Or the home of a rogue grizzly? Wait! Are there even grizzly bears in Maine? She thought maybe there were only black bears. But still, a rogue black bear could definitely be a beast.

When someone’s gentle hand touched her shoulder, pulling her from her thoughts, she screeched and jumped what felt like three feet off the ground.

“Mademoiselle Carson? Veronica Carson?” The middle-aged man’s accent was unmistakably French, and he pronounced her first name as Vehr-oh-nee-ka. She quickly raised her hand to her neck where her pulse was still racing.

“Yes,” she nodded, a little breathless. “So sorry. I didn’t hear anyone.”

The man, who she noticed now was wearing a dark suit and even a driver’s hat, smiled understandingly. “The fog. When it is thick like this, well…everything is hushed.”

“Of course, that makes sense.” She was relieved at such a simple explanation.

He held out his hand formally. “Claude Hormet, in service to Monsieur Reynard for many years.”

She held her hand to meet his, and it was immediately taken into a firm handshake. “Nice to meet you, Monsieur Hormet.”

His smile widened at her pronunciation of his name, and she thought she saw surprise flicker in his eyes. “It’s a pleasure to meet you as well, Mademoiselle. We were told you spoke French well, and I can already hear it, if you don’t mind my saying so.”

“Thank you. That’s very kind of you. I’m happy to switch over if you’d like, so you can really hear me.”

Monsieur Hormet smiled again. “I would enjoy that, but later. For now, I will escort you to the château.”

He took her bag from her and led her to a shiny, black Lincoln sedan that looked pristine in spite of the fact that it must have been at least thirty years old. He opened the back door, and once she’d slid onto the back seat, he gave a little bow before closing the door behind her. She didn’t even hear the trunk close after he’d put her suitcase in, and when they began to move, the ride was so smooth that it felt like they were floating.

Monsieur Hormet didn’t speak again, and sensing that it would possibly be considered too informal for her to initiate conversation, Veronica maintained silence as well. Instead, she took out her folder with a copy of her resume and list of references. She reviewed her notes again, but they were sparse. From the barebones details that had accompanied the job description, she really didn’t know a lot about the open position and still didn’t know anything more about her prospective employer than his last name, so she rehearsed again in her head what she could say about her experience.

She was so deep in thought, comfortable on the sumptuous leather of the seats, that she didn’t really look up until the car began to slow. Then…wow. The mansion that loomed before her was truly a castle, made of stone with towers and turrets. If it had had a moat and not located in Maine, she would not have been surprised if someone had told her it was from the Middle Ages.

She must have made some sort of sound because Monsieur Hormet caught her gaze in the rearview mirror.

“Ah, the château is beautiful, no?”

Looking back at the lines of the massive structure, Veronica noticed that they were surprisingly delicate as well. Large it might be, but this was also a masterpiece of artistry, balanced and elegant. Still trying to look at every part of the castle at the same time, she answered with enthusiasm, “Oh yes, absolutely gorgeous!”

They pulled up right to the front steps, and Monsieur Hormet came around to help her out of the car. The air that buffeted her face was cooler than at the train station, damp and heavy, carrying the unmistakable salty tang of the ocean. She curved her lips into a small smile when she heard the distant crash of waves on something. Katrin was going to be overjoyed that her guess had to be at least partly correct.

“If you’ll follow me, Mademoiselle, I’ll show you to the large salon.” Monsieur Hormet glanced at the front windows and nodded slightly at some small movement inside. “Eveline will let Monsieur Reynard know you’ve arrived.”

Still craning her neck as discreetly as possible to see everything at once, Veronica followed him up a large number of stone steps and into the château. She had only a glimpse of the enormous entry hall before they went down a spacious hallway into a room that looked like some sort of formal parlor. There were several seating areas around the room, and he motioned for her to sit in a straight-backed armchair in the cluster nearest to the windows. Even with the fog, she could still tell that the windows here overlooked the ocean. A gray-green expanse of icy-cold Atlantic water, the view looked imposing rather than inviting. She loved it.

Fighting the urge to press her nose to the glass of the windowpanes, she sat down on the chair instead in what she hoped was a professional, dignified manner. She took out the folder once again and waited. An ornate gilded clock, which looked like an antique that would have been at home in the art museum in Boston, ticked, and the sound was loud in the otherwise-silent room. At the snick of the door handle turning, she leaped to her feet and turned to greet her interviewer. The figure that entered was considerably shorter and faster than she’d expected, though.

As he barreled toward her at full tilt, Veronica saw that the little boy had a mass of golden-blond hair, bright blue eyes and cheeks that glowed pink with good health. His happy face was dominated by a huge grin. She braced for possible impact, but he stopped abruptly right in front of her and eyed her curiously.

“You’re pretty,” he said in French, “but I don’t like your coat. I’m not supposed to say ‘hate’ or ‘ugly’.” He looked up at her expectantly.

Veronica stifled a laugh as she darted a glance down at her suit coat. It was something she’d bought for interviews, and she internally agreed that it wasn’t the most attractive thing she owned—more about practicality than fashion. But still…

“It sounds like you’re doing a good job listening, then,” she answered in French, skirting around the question. She set her folder, which she’d still been clutching, on the seat of the chair and crouched down so she was eye-level with the boy. “What’s your name? Mine is Veronica.”

“Jean-Philippe. Yvette says you’re here to take care of me, but only if Papa likes you. I don’t have a maman. She died. Our dog died too. Sometimes I get sad and cry and Papa says that’s okay.” Veronica’s heart clenched at the childish words, but she fought another laugh at what he said next. “Did you bring a present? Papa always brings a present and hides it in one of his pockets. Oncle Marius too. Is that why you’re wearing that coat, to hide presents?” He eyed her outfit with more enthusiasm.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Jean-Philippe,” she answered, then shook her head regretfully. “I didn’t know, so no presents today, but I promise that if I stay, I’ll bring you something next time I go into town. How’s that?”

He bobbed his little head as he nodded, making his fine blond hair glint, even in the dim sunlight from the gloomy day. “That sounds good,” he agreed. “I hope you go to town soon.”

She couldn’t have hidden her smile this time if she’d tried, so she didn’t bother. Another noise made her look up again, toward the door, where a young woman stood, looking a bit harried. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, as if she’d been running. She wore some sort of uniform dress, not black-and-white but something about it made Veronica think she might be a maid or housekeeper. Her look at Jean-Philippe was a mix of exasperation and affection.

The man who entered on her heels, though, made Veronica shoot to her feet and straighten her back. He was tall, probably close to six-and-a-half feet, and his shoulders and chest were broad and muscular. He wore a suit that must have been custom-tailored to fit his large frame so perfectly, and he exuded an air of pure power. Confidence. She would have had to be blind or utterly oblivious not to feel an awareness of such a man.

Where his frame and his very presence seemed to fill the room, it was his face that really captivated her. Dark, wavy hair framed the most attractive face she thought she’d ever seen. He wasn’t what she would call handsome—his Roman nose was just a little too prominent—but his features were masculine, strong and absolutely stunning. His eyes, which she could tell even from this distance were a deep brown like melted dark chocolate and framed with thick dark lashes, seemed to see all the way into her from across the room. She felt goosebumps rise on her arms and up her neck, and she couldn’t seem to tear her own gaze away.

When he started to move, whatever spell that was keeping her silent was broken. To her surprise, she noticed that he walked with a cane in steps that looked like they carefully concealed pain.

“Oh, Monsieur, I’m so sorry. He got away from me when he was supposed to be following me,” the young woman apologized to the man who she guessed must be Monsieur Reynard.

He inclined his head slightly, and although his face remained impassive, Veronica somehow got the impression of tolerance.

“I understand, Yvette. You may return to your regular duties.” His voice was deep and rumbling, full of gravel. It rolled through the quiet room, filling every corner, though he spoke quietly.

The young woman gave a little bow and hurried from the room gratefully, leaving only Veronica, Jean-Philippe and Monsieur Reynard.

“Papa!” the little boy exclaimed, confirming Veronica’s guess at the identity of the man. She saw him grimace almost imperceptibly as his little boy crashed into his leg in a show of preschool affection.

“I see you’ve met Miss Carson, my son,” he said, looking at Veronica as he tousled the baby-fine mop of hair.

“Oh yes! Do you like her? Is she staying?”

The question fell heavily in the quiet room, and Veronica turned to pick up the folder again.

“I brought a copy of my resume and a list of references—”

“No need.” Monsieur Reynard interrupted her, gesturing with his hand as if to wave her words away. “I’ve seen enough. The job is yours.”

Veronica’s mouth fell open. “I, uh… We just met.”

He raised his dark eyebrows. “So we did.”

She shook her head. Why was he making her so unsettled? Good Heavens, she was usually more articulate than this! “I mean, you haven’t interviewed me. Don’t you want to know…more?”

He shrugged and inclined his head to one side. “Mademoiselle, I’m known for being a good judge of character, with very few exceptions. It’s part of what has made me so successful. Jean-Philippe needs someone who is good with children, experienced and speaks French. From what I heard, you are all of these things.”

Veronica felt a warm flush rising up her neck, straight to her cheeks then right on up to her hairline. For some reason, the idea of not being aware of this man, with his outsize presence, made her beyond flustered. “You were listening?” she asked in a voice that was, she congratulated herself, almost normal.

He shrugged in a wonderfully Mediterranean way. “Not on purpose, but the door was cracked open and sound carries down the hallway.”

Mentally replaying her conversation with Jean-Philippe, Veronica couldn’t figure out what she could possibly have said to warrant this instant acceptance. “And I said enough to give you such confidence?”

She thought she had gotten over her initial shock of awareness at how very handsome he was, like someone jumping into cold water who starts acclimating. She was wrong. When he turned the full force of his dark, soulful eyes on her and turned up the corners of his mouth in what might have been the beginnings of a smile, she nearly had to catch her breath. She felt the goosebumps rise again all over her arms.

“You did pass the background check with flying colors, and you must know your accent is beautiful. But mostly, you didn’t miss a beat when my son insulted your er…ensemble.” He motioned tactfully to her suit and she opened her mouth in indignation, only to snap it shut at his next words. “I truly believe you to be a young woman of good sense, patience and kindness. Those are qualities I value beyond all others.”

His praise warmed her and was so close to describing the kind of person she hoped she was that she felt like another piece clicked into the odd connection she might be starting to feel with him.

“Thank you. In that case, I accept the position.” He didn’t return her smile, but she thought maybe his eyes crinkled the slightest bit at the corners.

“I’ll have Monsieur Hormet bring in the paperwork. Come along, Jean-Phillipe,” he said, turning and making his slow, deliberate way to the door with a gait she suspected concealed very-well-hidden pain. Jean-Philippe overtook him to sprint out of the door before his father.

All in all, Veronica was feeling pretty darn satisfied and relieved at avoiding the stress of a real interview when she heard Monsieur Reynard’s last words before he left the room.

“Such a relief to meet a young woman who doesn’t trouble herself too much over her clothes.”

Buy Links

Choose Your Store: https://books2read.com/u/31Y0qr

First For Romance: https://www.firstforromance.com/book/the-au-pair-and-the-beast

About the Author

Aurora Russell – https://www.firstforromance.com/index.php?route=product/author/info&author_id=11722

Aurora is originally from the frozen tundra of the upper-Midwest (ok, not frozen all the time!) but now loves living in New England with her real-life hero/husband, two wonderfully silly sons, and one of the most extraordinary cats she has ever had the pleasure to meet. But she still goes back to the Midwest to visit, just never in January.

She doesn’t remember a time that she didn’t love to read, and has been writing stories since she learned how to hold a pencil. She has always liked the romantic scenes best in every book, story, and movie, so one day she decided to try her hand at writing her own romantic fiction, which changed her life in all the best ways.

You can find out more about Aurora at her website.

Author Links

Website: https://aurorarussellauthor.wordpress.com/

Giveaway 

Enter to win a fabulous gift package and get a FREE eBook from the author!

Aurora Russell’s The Au Pair and the Beast Giveaway – https://upvir.al/110884/lp110884

AURORA RUSSELL IS GIVING AWAY THIS FABULOUS PRIZE TO ONE LUCKY WINNER. ENTER HERE FOR YOUR CHANCE TO WIN A LOVELY GIFT PACKAGE AND GET YOUR FREE AURORA RUSSELL ROMANCE BOOK! Notice: This competition ends on 9th March 2021 at 5pm GMT. Competition hosted by Totally Entwined Group.

Newsletter Exclusive Book Swag Giveaway (and Yeti Smut)

If you are already subscribed to my newsletter, make sure you open it up. I am running a book swag giveaway exclusively for my newsletter subscribers. It’s not a lot. It’s just a pillow with original character artwork from ‘Desire and Destruction’ on it. Still, I mean, it’s free and it’s cute. It’s also surprisingly comfy for a decorative pillow. I have one on my bed.

In this month’s newsletter, I also have a sneak peek at the yeti smut I’ve written. Yes, that does say yeti smut. I’m going to be experimenting with building a backlist of niche erotica on amazon and the first one I plan to release is my yeti girl femdom story.

It’s already been called by an early beta reader “bizarrely endearing.” Which, YES, I’ll take it!

I don’t have an exact launch date for that book. Right now I’m waiting for CocaineJia of deviantart to come back with the original artwork for the book. And to see exactly how awesome she is, take a look at the NSFW image she drew for ‘Desire and Destruction.’ (She drew the artwork for the cover image too).

Anyay, if you’re not already signed up for my newsletter and you want to get fun extras like yeti smut excerpts and the chance to enter exclusive book swag giveaways, make sure you sign up today. I’ll be sending out a newsletter with the rafflecopter giveaway link once more before the giveaway ends (at the end of March). I really fought the whole newsletter thing for a long time. I’m not the biggest fan of marketing. I’d rather just write books and have fun. So I figured if I could find a way to make my newsletter fun…

So exclusive giveaways and smut sneak peeks are pretty fun in my opinion.

Anyhow, you can sign up via my landing page here: https://mailchi.mp/df0cd22d1cfc/jyvur_newsletter

That’s it! See ya, sucker!

So, Here is a New Weird Thing I’m Doing…

Alright, let me start by saying, I’ve always had NSFW content in my books. However, I mean…..Time Storms is a 125k word book with about 5k words of smut. Desire and Destruction is a 123k word novel with about 15k words of smut. There has always been smut, but it’s always been a little here and there, mixed into full-length romance novels.

When I started working on ‘Incel’….wait….no, not when I started working on ‘Incel’, when I made a few youtube videos fucking around so that I could provide more context to my wattpad readers who had no idea what incels were, and I was fucking brigaded by incels.co, yeah that’s when I started being very low-key with the fact that I had smut in my oeuvre. It was when I realized actual incels were paying some degree of attention to me. You guys still here? *waves*, you should probably move along. You don’t have to go to the manosphere, but you can’t stay here. I’m done white-knighting for incels. Not because I don’t still believe incels have legitimate grievances. It’s more to do with the fact that I have many mental health issues and am not the right person to have ever undertaken such a venture.

So, I trashed my book ‘Incel.’ A rewrite is underway, but it is an extensive rewrite and while the main character will remain very much the same, the word ‘incel’ will not appear anywhere in the rewrite.

I urge actual incels to write their own stories. I highly recommend the ‘dark character study’ route, but please don’t make it edgy. The few fictions I have found written by actual incels take a decidedly edgy route. Nobody needs any incel stories that end with chaos or suicide. It’s predictable and pedestrian. Joker was a good movie until that ending. You don’t need a big bang of an ending to show the validity of your lived experience.

All of that out of the way, what am I doing now? I’m writing erotica.

I was invited to be part of an erotica anthology and I wrote my first pure smut and I had a ton of fun doing it. So I’m gonna keep doing it. I’m currently pumping out monster girl femdom stories like nobody’s business and my plan is to build a nice backlist under a new pen name (Sylek Phantasm) and get a passive income going.

It’s actually really stupid that writing yeti smut (I’m not kidding) is what has given me a sense of purpose in my life. I’m feeling far less depressed. I’m actually feeling kind of excited about the future and my writing journey.

I’m going to put this out there once and then I’m not gonna address it again (hopefully). I feel a little weird going from Men’s Issues, particularly the way I spent about two years white-knighting for incels, and changing direction into writing pure smut. I’m a little worried it’s got a little bit of a Roma’s Army sort of energy about it.

Look, I don’t know how to undo every idiotic thing I did over the past two years. I don’t know how to get taken out of the incel wiki (which fuck their great SEO-half the time the incel wiki beats my damn amazon listing). I don’t know how to undo the fact that I made myself somewhat of a known quantity on that side of the internet. Look, I’m a nut. I’m a noisy idiot that people usually don’t pay much attention to. Nobody on that side of the internet should either.

I am somewhat torn on the ethics of transitioning from men’s issues to smut, but I guess, not torn enough to not do it.

I doubt literally anybody gives a fuck what I do or what I write.

If I am wrong and anybody doesn’t like it, *shrugs* I didn’t really like the sock puppet thing. I didn’t really like being brigaded in 2019. I didn’t really like constantly reading how gross and post-wall women over 30 are….yeah. Considering all of that, I’m not as bothered over the ethics as I might have been at one point.

So that’s kind of it. Every so often, I still have gentlemen from that side of the internet pop up and talk to me. I’m not gonna pretend I didn’t want/enjoy that at one point.

But now I’m telling everybody, I’m doing a new thing. A thing that is going to be pretty blatantly sexual. I can’t undo all my nonsense on that side of the internet.

This is my new direction. This is keeping me semi-sane.

I am no longer focusing on Men’s Issues, because I believe doing both at once would be an ethically dubious conflict of interest.

That’s it.

I think (hope) I’m done losing my mind now.

Giveaway! The Duke Heist: A Regency Romance

~~🕮🕮~~ #BookTour & #Giveaway ~~🕮🕮~~

•¨) ★¸.•*´¨) ★.•*
★(¸.•´ •*¨) ★•*´¨) ★.•*´
★(¸.  THE DUKE HEIST (The Wild Wynchesters Book 1)

 by Erica Ridley 

#Historical #Romance #TheDukeHeist #TheWildWynchesters  @EricaRidley     

A NYT bestselling author kicks off a new Regency series of “irresistible romance and a family of delightful scoundrels” as a woman looking to recover a stolen painting accidentally kidnaps a duke instead. (Eloisa James)

Chloe Wynchester is completely forgettable — a curse that gives her the ability to blend into any crowd. When the only father she’s ever known makes a dying wish for his adopted family of orphans to recover a missing painting, she’s the first one her siblings turn to for stealing it back. No one expects that in doing so, she’ll also abduct a handsome duke.
Lawrence Gosling, the Duke of Faircliffe, is tortured by his father’s mistakes. To repair his estate’s ruined reputation, he must wed a highborn heiress. Yet when he finds himself in a carriage being driven hell-for-leather down the cobblestone streets of London by a beautiful woman who refuses to heed his commands, he fears his heart is hers. But how can he sacrifice his family’s legacy to follow true love?

“Erica Ridley is a delight!” –Julia Quinn, New York Times bestselling author of the Bridgerton series 

Anyone who registers their purchase at https://ericaridley.com/preorder/ gets a FREE bonus book! 

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/50374203-the-duke-heist

Buy Links
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B089SNZFTQ
Apple: https://books.apple.com/us/book/the-duke-heist/id1517348559
B&N: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-duke-heist-erica-ridley/1137149946?ean=9781538719503
Google: https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Erica_Ridley_The_Duke_Heist?id=OxvqDwAAQBAJ&hl=en
Kobo:  https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/the-duke-heist

Indiebound: https://www.indiebound.org/book/9781538719527 

Chapters Indigo:  https://www.chapters.indigo.ca/en-ca/books/the-duke-heist/9781538719503-item.html?ikwid=the+duke+heist+erica+ridley

Book Trailer:

~~ 🕮 ~~~~ 🕮 ~~ 

**Get the FREE Prequel The Governess Gambit here!**

https://smarturl.it/GovernessGamb-KINDLE

https://smarturl.it/GovernessGamb-APPLE

https://smarturl.it/GovernessGamb-NOOK

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~~ 🕮 ~~~~ 🕮 ~~~~ 🕮 ~~~~ 🕮 ~~ 

Erica Ridley is a New York Times and USA Today best-selling author of historical romance novels, including the newly released THE DUKE HEIST, featuring the Wild Wynchesters. Why seduce a duke the normal way, when you can accidentally kidnap one in an elaborately planned heist?

In the 12 Dukes of Christmas series, enjoy witty, heartwarming Regency romps nestled in a picturesque snow-covered village. After all, nothing heats up a winter night quite like finding oneself in the arms of a duke!

Two popular series, the Dukes of War and Rogues to Riches, feature roguish peers and dashing war heroes who find love amongst the splendor and madness of Regency England.

When not reading or writing romances, Erica can be found riding camels in Africa, zip-lining through rainforests in Costa Rica, or getting hopelessly lost in the middle of Budapest.

Author Links

Website: https://ericaridley.com
Facebook: https://facebook.com/EricaRidley 

Twitter: https://twitter.com/EricaRidley

Instagram: https://instagram.com/EricaRidley

Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/profile/erica-ridley  

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Erica-Ridley/e/B0036LMFC6

Goodreads: https://goodreads.com/EricaRidley 

~~ 🕮 ~~~~ 🕮 ~~ 

GIVEAWAY

Winners choice of ebook or audiobook of the entire 7-book Dukes of War series, 

$15 Amazon giftcard 

– 1 winner each!

Follow the tour HERE for special content and a giveaway!

https://www.silverdaggertours.com/sdsxx-tours/the-duke-heist-book-tour-and-giveaway

~~ 🕮🕮 ~~ HOSTED BY:~~ 🕮🕮 ~~ 

Silver Dagger Book Tours: https://www.silverdaggertours.com/  

Miss Wynchester swept into the Duke of Faircliffe’s dining room with her head high. 

Faircliffe’s throat went dry and his mind emptied of rational thought.

Gone was the insipid blandness of tan-on-tan. Her curves were now draped in a slip of mauve twill, overlaid with a sweeping frock of white netting. The dark velvet trim on the light rose bodice matched the velvet vandyke points decorating the skirt. The gauzy romantic colors brought out the dark brown of her hair and the deep brown of her long-lashed eyes. 

His body tightened. It was all he could do not to reach for her. Pull her against his chest, and claim her in ravenous kisses that weren’t his to take. 

A smile flitted at her lips, as if she sensed the maelstrom she’d unleashed within him.

His lungs tangled, making it hard to speak. Each syllable was the rasp of a drowning man. “You look magnificent.”

She stood much too far away for Faircliffe’s taste. That bodice would be displayed at its best pillowed against his chest, the perfect distance for a man to embark on a trail of kisses from her rosy lips, down the column of her throat, and into the swell of her bosom.

Tonight, he would dream of nothing else.

Miss Wynchester took a step toward the table. He watched, rapt. The swing of her hips was sensual and confident. She was a Wynchester. A woman of flesh and blood. Not being a highborn lady erased none of her power. The empty dining room crackled with it.

He leapt to his feet to help her into her chair.

She stopped her forward progress when she was less than an arm’s length from him. Close enough to touch. Close enough to see. 

Her eyes were the warmest shade of brown he had ever beheld. They were fathomless, penetrating. He wanted to see those eyes flutter closed in pleasure, and know that it was he who had brought her to that peak.

“That.” Her voice was warm honey. “Whatever you’re thinking at this very moment. That is what you should be doing.”

He’d been thinking of her. Of devouring her kiss by kiss, lick by lick, until she was limp and sated in his arms. 

It was highly improper dinner party behavior.

His voice was hoarse. “I don’t think you understand what I…”

“Don’t I?” Her eyes were hot on his, her gaze intense and unwavering. 

He tried to calm the rushing in his veins, carnal desires straining to be set free. She meant this. That he should be and do as he pleased. 

But what he wanted would lead them both to ruin.

“My father…” His voice was too low, too rough. A rumble of thunder on a spring day. “Father was emotional and impulsive. It made him a laughingstock.” It had made Faircliffe a laughingstock. “I will not compound his mistakes.”

Even if there was nothing he wanted more than to end this conversation by covering her mouth with his. Giving in. Allowing passion to consume him.

Her gaze searched his face. “What if it’s not a mistake? How will you know, if you keep yourself gaoled inside your head?”

Gaol. That was exactly what he should do with the urge to take her, kiss her, taste her. Lock his visceral, libidinous urges behind bars and throw away the key. It was the only way he would be strong enough to resist temptation.

“I…” Had he stepped closer? Had she? Their forbidden kiss was a breath away.

Her eyes sparked with challenge. “What would you do, Your Grace? If you were the sort of craven rogue who indulged his every desire. What impulse are you trying to fight?”

He reached up to touch her cheek. He should not have. Its softness was his undoing. 

Faircliffe was done fighting. For the moment, he would allow desire to break free from its chains. With no gaoler to stop him, there was only one thing Faircliffe wanted… and she was right in front of him.

He grasped her face, his fingers delving into the softness of her hair, and brought her to him. Heaven. Hell. His lips upon hers were less a kiss, and more two souls crashing into each other, shattering and melding at the same time. 

She smelled like honeysuckle and tasted like fresh tea. Had he thought he hated the substance? He adored it when it came from her lips. No amount of sugar could compare to the sweetness of her mouth, the fierce rush of her fingers twisting in his hair.

Something fluttered in his chest, an unfurling, a rebirth. He explored the contours of her mouth, mapping each hidden corner to remember later, to revisit in his mind when he could not have her in his hands.

Both palms now cupped her cheeks. Not to keep her in place, but to stop himself from skimming his eager hands down the column of her neck, the hollow of her back, the flare of her hips. 

If he touched her body, he’d be tempted to pull her closer. To leave no doubt that kissing her was no fleeting impulse, but a gale-force of temptation he barricaded himself against every time he thought her name or saw her face. This was what he had hungered for. Her. Beneath his fingers. Had he truly believed he could stay away?

Kissing her was as inevitable as the rain falling from swollen clouds, and just as impossible to hold in one’s hands forever.

He forced himself to wrench his mouth from hers, panting. Her face was still in his hands, her lips swollen from his kisses. He touched their foreheads together and tried to regain his breath. It was no use.

“Now you know.” The words were a growl, a plea. “All I can offer you is a moment’s passion. Do not ask me to uncage myself again, unless this is what you want.”

Author Links

Website: https://ericaridley.com
Facebook: https://facebook.com/EricaRidley 

Twitter: https://twitter.com/EricaRidley

Instagram: https://instagram.com/EricaRidley

Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/profile/erica-ridley  

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Erica-Ridley/e/B0036LMFC6

Goodreads: https://goodreads.com/EricaRidley 

~~ 🕮 ~~~~ 🕮 ~~ 

GIVEAWAY

Winners choice of ebook or audiobook of the entire 7-book Dukes of War series, 

$15 Amazon giftcard 

– 1 winner each!

Follow the tour HERE for special content and a giveaway!

https://www.silverdaggertours.com/sdsxx-tours/the-duke-heist-book-tour-and-giveaway

~~ 🕮🕮 ~~ HOSTED BY:~~ 🕮🕮 ~~ 

Silver Dagger Book Tours: https://www.silverdaggertours.com/  

Giveaway and Blog Tour: Grace by Contract (Historical Romance)

~~🕮🕮~~ #BookTour & #Giveaway ~~🕮🕮~~

•¨) ★¸.•*´¨) ★.•*
★(¸.•´ •*¨) ★•*´¨) ★.•*´
★(¸.  GRACE BY CONTRACT (Once Uopn a Duchy Book 1)

 by Rachel Rossano

#Fairytale #Inspired #Romance #BeautyAndTheBeast #ContractByGrace @RachelRossanoRambles     

After her father uproots the family to the northern duchy of Brackenhurst, Grace Eldon and her four younger sisters struggle with a new life of hardship. Desperate to keep a roof over their heads amid mounting debts, she and her youngest sister seek employment in the Duke of Brackenhurst’s household despite fearsome rumors.

Scarred and maimed from a terrible fire Silas Isling, Duke of Brackenhurst, buries himself in his work to avoid the stares of pity and fear. When one of the new maids shows no fear at his appearance, he is intrigued. That is until his meddling steward gives her the task of cleaning Silas’ bookroom. It is a most unwelcome disruption since he prefers to be alone.

While a thief plagues his castle, an old nemesis reappears, and enemies invade in the guise of guests. Amidst the distractions and chaos, Grace brings some unexpected order. Once convinced his scars had stolen all hope for love, Silas finds his life forever changed by the quiet maid. Could she love a scarred Duke?

Inspired by Beauty and the Beast 

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/55846500-grace-by-contract

Buy Links
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08LSZW7ND
Apple: https://books.apple.com/us/book/grace-by-contract/id1537577865
B&N: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/grace-by-contract-rachel-rossano/1138008787
Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/grace-by-contract

Books2Read: https://books2read.com/b/3kArPR

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Rachel Rossano is a happily married mother of three children. She spends her days teaching, mothering, and keeping the chaos at bay. After the little ones are in bed, she immerses herself in the fantasy worlds of her books. Tales of romance, adventure, and virtue set in a medieval fantasy world are her preference, but she also writes speculative fantasy and a bit of science fiction. 

Author Links

Website: https://www.rachelrossano.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/RachelRossanoRambles 

Twitter: https://twitter.com/RachelRossano

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/anavrea

Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/rachel-rossano  

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Rachel-Rossano/e/B004MV17GE

Goodreads:  https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1430209.Rachel_Rossano

~~🕮~~~~🕮~~ 

GIVEAWAY

$20 Amazon 

Follow the tour HERE for special content and a giveaway!

https://www.silverdaggertours.com/sdsxx-tours/grace-by-contract-book-tour-and-giveaway

~~ 🕮🕮 ~~ HOSTED BY:~~ 🕮🕮 ~~ 

Silver Dagger Book Tours: https://www.silverdaggertours.com/  

The rain slowed and then stopped as we trekked over the first rise beyond the village.

“Wait until I tell Amity.” Beauty jostled my shoulder as she gripped my hand with both of hers.

I pulled the sack with our purchases out from between us, praying that she hadn’t squished the bread. We hurried along the muddy path, sidestepping the deepest puddles and avoiding the soaked knee-high grasses as best we could.

“Lord Brackenhurst is a giant.” Beauty hissed the word in my ear like a child, marveling with equal parts wonder and horror. “He stands at least four hands taller than Father.”

“He is tall,” I admitted, hoping that would be the end of it. I didn’t want to dwell on our difficult conversation with our new lord and master. Our new home, the tenant-holding my mother grew up on, lay beyond the next hill and about an hour’s walk from the village. Our middle sisters would have dinner prepared and the table set by the time we arrived home. If we hurried, there might still be enough to blunt the sharp emptiness of my stomach.

“Is he taller than any man you have met?” Beauty shoved at my shoulder so hard that I stumbled to the side of the path in my effort to keep my balance and avoid a particularly deep puddle. The bread and the apothecary’s small pouch of herbs for grandmother bounced against my hip.

“Aye. Please don’t jostle me so.”

“And his hands!” She sucked in a great breath in awe. “The one we saw was the size of my head!”

“You have a small head.”

“No smaller than yours.” She dragged at my arm so that my joints ached. “Come and admit it, Grace. He was a sight to behold.”

I wasn’t willing to admit anything. I just wanted to go home, back to Braulyn and the great port of Mayfair. I longed to breathe the tangy scent of the sea air and feel the sand beneath my toes. Not even the impressive, hulking sight of our new master could overcome that longing.

“My, was he ugly! Those scars! I have never beheld such a mangled visage—”

“Cease!” I yanked my hand free of Beauty’s viselike grip. “Leave the poor wretch alone.” I took three steps further along the rutted path before I realized Beauty no longer walked with me.

Stopping in the center of the path, I turned back to find her crouched in the grass with her arms about her knees.

“Oh, do stop pouting.” I crossed my own arms. We had more important things to discuss, like whether or not we mentioned the contract to our father. The strangely intense bailiff and the far-too-watchful eye of his master had made the terms clear enough. Still, part of me rebelled at signing away half a decade of my life. Not that it changed reality. Father would happily bargain Beauty’s and my freedom for such a prize as a regular income for which he didn’t have to work. He would see it as a chance to turn his fortunes around.

Beauty lifted a prettily damp face to stick her bottom lip out at me. “I only spoke the truth.”

“Hurtful truth,” I pointed out. “A person’s character isn’t based on their exterior. Neither of us knows the measure of Duke Brackenhurst’s character. He is to be our new master, and we need to show respect.”

“I would prefer a handsome husband.”

Author Links

Website: https://www.rachelrossano.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/RachelRossanoRambles 

Twitter: https://twitter.com/RachelRossano

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/anavrea

Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/rachel-rossano  

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Rachel-Rossano/e/B004MV17GE

Goodreads:  https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1430209.Rachel_Rossano

~~ 🕮 ~~~~ 🕮 ~~ 

GIVEAWAY

$20 Amazon 

Follow the tour HERE for special content and a giveaway!

https://www.silverdaggertours.com/sdsxx-tours/grace-by-contract-book-tour-and-giveaway

~~ 🕮🕮 ~~ HOSTED BY:~~ 🕮🕮 ~~ 

Silver Dagger Book Tours: https://www.silverdaggertours.com/  

Giveaway! Return of the Raven: Time Travel Romance! My Favorite <3

I’m spotlighting this new release today, simply because it is my absolute favorite romance trope. Time travel! Nothing makes a romance for me like time travel. It adds a whole new level of timelessness and fantasy. It really amps up the romance.

This is the 5th book in the Ravenwood series.

~~🕮🕮~~ #BookTour & #Giveaway ~~🕮🕮~~

•¨) ★¸.•*´¨) ★.•*
★(¸.•´ •*¨) ★•*´¨) ★.•*´
★(¸.  RETURN OF THE RAVEN (The Novels of Ravenwood Book 5)

 by Judith Sterling

#TimeTravel  #Fantasy #Romance #Historical  #ReturnOfTheRaven @judithsterlingfiction  

Margaret, Lady Ravenwood, is trapped in a loveless marriage and firmly entrenched in the medieval world. Along comes Griffin Nightshade, a historian from the future whose soul resonates with hers. He persuades her to return with him to the 1950s, but heeding her heart means courting danger from a curse that could spell her doom.

Haunted by his parents’ sudden deaths, Griffin knows all too well the pain born of love lost. He guards his emotions, but Margaret delves deep and goes straight to the soul. She’s hard to resist…and harder to set free.

The heart’s desire and history’s demands don’t always agree. Yet true love is eternal.  

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/56595796-return-of-the-raven

Buy Links
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B08RYD2GW8
Apple: https://books.apple.com/us/book/return-of-the-raven/id1547199256
B&N: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/return-of-the-raven-judith-sterling/1138556276?ean=2940162911326
Google: https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Judith_Sterling_Return_of_the_Raven?id=DsAaEAAAQBAJ
Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/return-of-the-raven-2

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Judith Sterling is an award-winning author whose love of history and passion for the paranormal infuse everything she writes. Whether penning medieval romance (The Novels of Ravenwood) or young adult paranormal fantasy (the Guardians of Erin series), her favorite themes include true love, destiny, time travel, healing, redemption, and finding the hidden magic which exists all around us. She loves to share that magic with readers and whisk them far away from their troubles, particularly to locations in the British Isles.

Her nonfiction books, written under Judith Marshall, have been translated into multiple languages. She has an MA in linguistics and a BA in history, with a minor in British Studies. Born in that sauna called Florida, she craved cooler climes, and once the travel bug bit, she lived in England, Scotland, Sweden, Wisconsin, Virginia, and on the island of Nantucket. She currently lives in Salem, Massachusetts with her husband and their identical twin sons.

Author Links

Website: https://judithmarshallauthor.com/ 

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/judithsterlingfiction

BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/judith-sterling 

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B01MT3KB7L 

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/16291161.Judith_Sterling

The Wild Rose Press: https://www.thewildrosepress.com/authors/judith-sterling 

~~🕮~~~~🕮~~ 

GIVEAWAY

$15 Amazon 

Follow the tour HERE for special content and a giveaway!

https://www.silverdaggertours.com/sdsxx-tours/return-of-the-raven-book-tour-and-giveaway

~~ 🕮🕮 ~~ HOSTED BY:~~ 🕮🕮 ~~ 

Silver Dagger Book Tours: https://www.silverdaggertours.com/  

Dressed in blue-striped pajamas, Griffin stood in front of his bed. His gaze shifted back and forth between two books. Usually, he was a decisive reader, but tonight was different. He’d had Margaret on the mind the entire time he perused the library shelves, and even now, the sound of her bathwater filling the tub next door plagued his focus.

Nevertheless, he’d narrowed the choice to two books: Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s The Hound of the Baskervilles or Dennis Wheatley’s The Devil Rides Out. He’d read both before and enjoyed them immensely, so he couldn’t go wrong with either one.

So what’s it going to be? Murder on the moors or black magic on Salisbury Plain?

Margaret’s clear-toned voice penetrated the wall between their bedrooms. She was humming the first part of the sonata he’d played tonight. Not only did she have an ear for language; she also had one for music. She had perfect pitch, too, as did he, which allowed him to discern that she hummed the exact same notes he’d played on the Steinway. Her singing voice was just as lovely as he’d imagined it might be.

His brow furrowed. He had no business imagining anything about her, least of all her naked body slipping into a warm bath and—

Stop! He huffed and rubbed his mouth with his hand. Then he refocused his attention on the books for the umpteenth time. Come on now. Murder or magic? Magic or murder?

“Griff!” A note of panic tinged her voice.

Meg! In trouble!

He dashed into the hall and into her bedroom, then flung open the bathroom door. She stood in the bathtub, clad in bubbles whose brethren spilled over the side of the tub onto the floor. Luckily, the white foam covered all but her neck, head, and one shoulder.

“There’s too much of it.” She gestured to the mess and sent a cluster of bubbles flying through the air.

“I can see that. Are you hurt?”

“No, just unnerved. They kept building and building until I feared they might cover the entire chamber.”

“First, let’s turn off the water.” He reached into the sea of foam, found the faucets, and twisted each one in turn. “How much of the soapy liquid did you use?”

“The whole bottle.”

His eyes widened. “Well, that explains it. Only a small amount is necessary.”

“When Hannah showed me how to use it, she simply turned the bottle upside down to demonstrate pouring. I assumed all of the liquid was needed.” With a rueful expression, she looked around her. “Obviously not.”

She was adorable. And underneath those bubbles, she was nude. Time to go!

“Well, I’m glad ʼtwas nothing serious. I’ll just be going now.” With an about face, he headed for the door.

“Wait.”

Uh oh. What does she want now? He turned back around.

“I must know something, and you’re the only one who can help me know it.”

A warning bell pealed in his mind and urged his heart to quicken its pace. “What do you want to know?”

“Earlier, you called me attractive, but you haven’t seen all of me.”

Only by the grace of those bubbles! Did she intend to bare all? No…modesty would prevent that. But the look in her eye—that steady gleam of determination—made him nervous. “Surely you don’t mean—”

“I do. All of my married life, Evoric has mocked me and deemed me unappealing.”

“To him mayhap.” Or eunuchs. Otherwise…

Adamantly, she shook her head. “To all men. Or so he says.”

He is such a sleaze. “He’s just trying to make excuses for his own failure.”

“That may be, but I’ll never know for certain unless you look upon me yourself and give me your honest opinion.”

Dear God. How did I get myself into this mess? “I really think ʼtis better if—”

“Griff.” Her violet eyes pleaded with him. “I know I’ve asked a lot from you, but I need this. Otherwise, I’ll wonder about it the rest of my life.”

How could he deny her the chance to rebuild her self-confidence? He took a deep breath, pushed it out, and braced for what would come. “Very well. Show yourself to me.”

Add to Goodreads   Amazon * Apple * B&N * Google * Kobo

That’s it for this release spotlight! I’ll always want to shout out time travel romance. 100% best romance trope ever

Deep Cleaning Your Home —

. Spring is just around the corner which means it is time to open the house back up after months of being shut in and freshen up your home! I found one of the best ways to do this is by cleaning and every spring I do a DEEP clean of my house reaching every […]

Deep Cleaning Your Home —

WWW Weds: mostly writing, but also reading arcs and beta reading

Okay, it is weds again, my dudes.

This is a weekly meme hosted by Sam at Taking on a World of Words.

Before I really get into it, I’ll say I haven’t been reading a ton. Mostly because I’m still dealing with some mental health stuff.

I have been writing a lot and working on numerous projects. I’m incredibly grateful that other writers have been inviting me to collaborate on a lot of stuff lately. Maybe everybody can see I’m losing my fucking mind and don’t have enough to do in my life.

In any case, I was invited to contribute to an erotica anthology. The theme is drinks. Every story has its own drink that is mentioned and ties into the story in some way. Obviously I chose a Shirley Temple for my story. I submitted my erotica short to beta readers a couple of days ago and got a lot of great feedback, which I’m very excited about.

I was also invited to contribute to a romance anthology. I haven’t started writing my entry yet, but doing lots of brainstorming.

I was also invited to help out with a podcast, but I did turn that down. Too many strong personalities doesn’t always work out well, so I bowed out of that one. It was neat to be invited though.

I’ve had several newbie writers come to me for help with their manuscripts. That’s been an awesome distraction from my crippling depression. Although, if I could just throw this out there, it drives me fucking crazy when you baby writers come to me for help then get offended when I give you said help. Have you met me? Do you have the most basic understanding of who I am as a human? I do not coddle. I do not say nice things just to say nice things. It is my firm belief that people who are “nice” at the expense of truth are not actually “nice” at all. They’re just cowards protecting their own comfort. I have integrity. I will say it kindly whenever possible. But when balancing truth and kindness, I will always sacrifice kindness. I won’t say “your story is trash” but I will say “this story has many structural issues and the character motivations don’t make sense.” I love helping newbie writers. But for those who say “give me feedback” then get pissy over feedback, I probably won’t help you again. I’ll literally say “I’m not helping because you got pissy last time.”

Lastly, I was invited to be a part of another project just this morning and I’m so stoked! I get to help storyboard a virtual novel, something I have no experience with. It’s also a furry vn. I find the furry community really interesting. I can’t wait to dig into this project and was so honored to be asked to help out!

So with all of that going on, I haven’t read a ton, but have done some reading over the past week.

What Are You Currently Reading?

I’m on the arc team for Emily Hurricane’s novella series, and I’m on book two of the Bloodlines 5 novella set. It’s a dystopian werewolf story and I’m loving the unique combination.

I’m also reading book two in the Lazarus novella series. This is another of Emily Hurricane’s books, written under one of her many pen names (for amazon ranking reasons).

I love the whole plot line with the evil sheriff. There’s also so many twists you’d never expect. It’s awesome. A very fun an atmospheric Western romance.

What Did You Recently Finish Reading?

I haven’t finished reading any books this week, but I have been doing a lot of beta reading, mostly for newbie writers, but a little bit for some of my more established writer friends.

What Do You Think You Will Read Next?

I have a bunch of arcs to get caught up on, both for blog tours and Netgalley.

Here is the first arc I’ve ever been approved for through Netgalley (seriously Netgalley, wtf??)

It’s an Amish romance and it looks very sweet and wholesome.

That’s it for me! What are you reading this week?

I Am Owed An Apology

Apologies are really important to me. I don’t know why, but they are. When somebody apologizes to me, it’s like all my negative emotions around the event are just gone. Like I carry on all the time about the awful things my mom did to me as a kid. I rarely mention any of the stuff my stepdad did. Because he apologized and he meant it, and just knowing that HE KNOWS he was wrong and carries some guilt for it, that was enough for me to stop feeling so angry and hurt.

But like other people have pointed out to me, waiting for other people to apologize to you just hands all of your power over to them.

So I’ve got tot let it go.

In an effort to do so, I have written the apology I should have gotten for recent events:

Dear Jyvur,

I am so so sorry for talking to you with a sock puppet account. For having not one, but two anonymous accounts in your discord, in addition to my main account. I did it because I wanted to see what kinds of stuff you were saying, without you knowing it was me. It wasn’t because I was worried about you, or because I liked you at all. I was just being nosy. But I realize why that was confusing. It was really messed up.

When called out, I panicked. I was so panicked that I was angry, and I felt like ‘how is SHE mad when she started this whole thing? It’s not like she’s some perfect saint who didn’t hurt people.’ So I acted like you were crazy and said a bunch of stuff that completely contradicted my last message to you. Instead of taking responsibility for what I did wrong, I acted like you were in the wrong for being upset about it.

Regarding that last message, and all the stuff my buddies said to you, it was wrong, but we were really just messing with you. We wanted to put an idea in your head to see what would happen. Now that I’ve seen what happened, I feel bad.

I know it was a major violation to talk to you through an anonymous account. I put on this whole ‘it’s not a big deal’ bit when called out. But I’m not an idiot. I know it was a big deal to you, and instead of being obtuse about that, I should have just admitted I did a fucked up thing. And the acne comments, through both accounts, I was trying to hurt your feelings. I wish I could explain why. In the moment, I just wanted you to feel bad about yourself.

I guess it wasn’t just because I was being nosy. I was on an ego trip. I had a lot of fun saying all of that stuff to your friend, knowing it was going to get back to you. I was angry at you and just generally sad and lonely, so I took a lot of pleasure in using the call-out as an opportunity to reject you. I acted like my sock puppet was being called out for a completely different reason, not because it was a genuinely screwed up thing to do. I acted like you were chasing after me, when really I was the one still hanging around initiating contact with you.

And I put off apologizing to you for a long time for a couple of reasons. One is that this just wouldn’t be a big deal to me. So I kept telling myself you were a nut carrying on about it months later, because there’s something wrong with you. But I’ve realized it doesn’t matter how I would react. Regardless of anything you’re doing, it was wrong. The other reason I put it off is because I worried it would set you off further or maybe send you back to acting how you were before all this went down. So I hope that doesn’t happen, because we really really can’t talk anymore.

But I do know that I was wrong. I do realize that was hurtful and cruel. I’ll try not to treat anyone like that again in the future.

Please know that I’m truly sorry.

-XXXXXXX

That person would never actually write anything like that. They would just somehow make it into their own victimhood. They would deflect by saying I’m over-reacting, which admittedly, I am. It doesn’t matter. That was still wrong. They’ll never admit that. I’m told they might not even be a real person, but a group of guys who literally just conspire to mess with people.

So it’s like….why am I even still upset? The world is full of assholes and I had a run in with one/some of them.

I shouldn’t be. I should be past it.

And it’s probably pathetic and weird that I’m still so hurt and angry over this. I’m still owed an apology and it should have gone something like what I wrote above. But people suck and I will never get one.

I will never get one from my mom either. I will never get one from my biological dad who I’ve never met and who was incredibly nasty to me the handful of times we spoke via email. I’ll never get one from my first serious boyfriend who told our entire high school the most humiliating intimate details, after I tried so hard to do everything to make him happy.

I have to figure out how to be okay with that. People do shitty things and never feel bad and that’s the world.

All I can do is apologize when I do the wrong thing and hurt people.

That’s all for now.