Cerise DeLand's Blog, page 50

Bull Elk, chief of Antelope tribe, speaks in STEAL ME AWAY!

http://www.ellorascave.com/steal-me-away.html  
   Fancy Turner knows it isn’t wise to hunger for the touch of the virile Comanche chief, Bull Elk. She should catch a husband from among the few men who returned to Texas after the Civil War. But tall, bronze Bull Elk, in his feathers and buckskin, is so handsome—and forbidden.   When Bull Elk charges onto the ranch one morning and catches Fancy up in his arms, he knows he risks the anger of his own braves and the fury of the long knives to have her. He’ll risk everything to twist her golden hair in his fist, to caress the pale swell of her breast as no man has before him. He’ll have Fancy as his wife even if he has to fight his own people to make it so.   Thrust into a world she doesn’t understand, Fancy expects Bull Elk to take her. But never in her darkest fantasies does she expect to enjoy it so much. Bull Elk’s touch is possession, his kiss a brand, and to her shock Fancy finds that the only future she wants is the one she imagines in his arms.Copyright, Cerise DeLand 2013, All rights reserved.Excerpt:   She was mine. Only one other man, my younger brother, would ever be allowed to touch her again.  And only if I gave him permission. As I sat there with her in my lap, testing my patience as my cock grew twice its normal size, I took my time caring for her. I kneaded her aching limbs and demonstrated how I would protect her, even from the likes of Knows Brown Bear.    He deserved to die by my knife for his audacity to fuck her. That upstart had been an animal himself, having taken my happy youngest sister when she was only twelve to his tipi. There he had plunged his rod inside her so violently, she had bled and died days after. Now Knows Brown Bear was dead at my hand for daring to touch the woman who would be my wife, my Shining Moon.    I ran my hands over Fancy’s injured foot and knew she had twisted her muscles. To cure this, rest was best but we were far from our new camp. To marry me with a light heart, Shining Moon must learn that in addition to being her protector, I was kind. And so I tried the Anglos’ way to win a woman’s love.   I seized a crystal length of her hair and wound it round my wrist. I smiled while I drew her mouth to mine. She gazed upon my lips too long to be uninterested. That she was intrigued swelled my pride and my cock. I had much to show her about how a Comanche loved his wife and I would begin with this command. “Kiss me again, my moon.”   She jerked away. “I am surprised that you know how to kiss.”   I gave her the distance her shock and her pride demanded while I stared into her glorious blue eyes. “I do know very well,” I said with humor.   She did not smile. “You know much about us. And you speak English very well.”   I nodded. I was calm. Why not? Her flight from me was unnecessary. “Thank you.”   She shivered beneath my hands but her words were quick and bold. “How did you learn?”   “My father’s brother took an Anglo woman to wife.”   Those large, expressive blue-bonnet eyes widened in shock. “Took her?”   I would tell her what was necessary to show we were not evil and that if she opened her mind, she could learn to love us. And me. “She never returned to you. She never wished to go.”   Shining Moon swallowed hard, her nostrils flaring as she considered that. The idea that an Anglo woman would accept a Comanche stung her, but clearly it did not appall her. That confirmed for me that she was a smart woman, able to learn new ways without regret. “What is her name?”  “Bird Sings.”  “But…her white name. What was it?”   I shook my head. “This I do not know. You may ask her. She taught her language to me, my young brother, White Hawk and my sister, Willow Talks.”   “That’s how you can talk so easily with Herr Mannheim and the MacRaes at the powwows,” she said with some awe.   I agreed. “We make peace.”   She grabbed my hand and beseeched me with passion swimming in her eyes. “Oh, but Bull Elk you must realize that this capture will end the peace.”   I hoped not. Yet I had not watched my father and his father lead our people against the settlers all my life without the understanding that they were eager to ride off and kill others. My decision to take Shining Moon as my bride had been a heavy burden upon my mind for many months. Despite the cost to peace in these hills, I had seized her. Even the Great Spirit had confirmed for me in a dream that her men would not find her until she fled a fireball. I would keep her from any such conflagration and firmly in my bed, her legs spread wide for me to pleasure her. “I will have you.”   Her back stiffened, straight as an arrow. “They will come for me. Send out war parties. Hunt you down.”   “I do not fear.” And this was true. My mind was quiet. “Your men are few. Brother has killed brother in your war for many years.”   “Yes, even Sheriff MacRae and his older brother, the Ranger fought each other. But those two are strong and can gather many men from Austin and San Antonio.”  “No.”  “But—”  “No,” I said with more compassion, then I spread my fingers and ran them through her hair. Her curls felt thick and heavy, soft as the down of one of their lambs. With unrelenting power, I drew her lips to mine and spoke upon her flesh. “I am stronger and I will keep you.”   I kissed her then, her mouth all mine. Her will, floating into mine. Her body, pressing against mine. The persuasion she did not like. But at the feel of my tongue at the seam of her lips, she sighed and opened for my invasion. My tongue sank deeply into her cavern. As I predicted she would be, she was eager for me. And warm. And wet.   As her pussy would be for me tonight.   She broke our kiss. Her body heaving with outrage that she met my desire with her own. She pushed the flat of her hand against my chest and the tattoo I had the medicine man make for the sign of our coming union. “I will not be your slave. I would die first. I would find a way to—”   “Do not die.” I covered her hand with my own and ground her palm against my aching nipple. “Live with me.”     She struggled to wrench away.     I would not let her go. With a grunt, I shoved my hand between her legs, she wore no covering to her cat. That I liked and grinned at her, sweet woman that she was. Beneath my fingers, she grew hot and I was tempted to lift her skirts and stroke her juicy flesh. She would admit tonight that she belonged to me. I would show her how well my lance would fill her. This plump gatto, I would tame and pet and suck. “I am yours and soon, you will be mine and no other’s.”

Nibble my newest cherry? You know you need a Comanche chief today!

http://www.ellorascave.com/steal-me-away.html
STEAL ME AWAYFancy Turner knows it isn’t wise to hunger for the touch of the virile Comanche chief, Bull Elk. She should catch a husband from among the few men who returned to Texas after the Civil War. But tall, bronze Bull Elk, in his feathers and buckskin, is so handsome—and forbidden.When Bull Elk charges onto the ranch one morning and catches Fancy up in his arms, he knows he risks the anger of his own braves and the fury of the long knives to have her. He’ll risk everything to twist her golden hair in his fist, to caress the pale swell of her breast as no man has before him. He’ll have Fancy as his wife even if he has to fight his own people to make it so.Thrust into a world she doesn’t understand, Fancy expects Bull Elk to take her. But never in her darkest fantasies does she expect to enjoy it so much. Bull Elk’s touch is possession, his kiss a brand, and to her shock Fancy finds that the only future she wants is the one she imagines in his arms.

Excerpt: All rights reserved, Copyright, Cerise DeLand 2013Fancy Turner and her sister are outside picking vegetables and flowers one spring morning. They argue about men and the losses during the Civil War. Suddenly, Fancy’s sister points to the hill above them.   “Francine!” Collette screamed. “Don’t go! Look up at the hilltop!”   Fancy whirled to her left, one hand up to shield her vision from the glaring sun—she stood stark still.    There on the ridge stood a party of half-naked mounted Comanche braves. A lot of them. Eight, nine, ten in all. By their build, Fancy could see a few were her age, maybe younger. All wore tawny loin cloths of buffalo hides, short boots of the same soft substance, long white and black hawk feathers in their shoulder-length ebony hair and nothing on their broad, bronze chests. Their leader, the tallest man among them, wore red paint across his nose and cheeks. His large, hell-dark eyes, he had ringed in black paint. Despite his fierce markings, Fancy knew who he was, and she smiled and waved at him.   “Nothing to fear from him, Coll. That is Patuwa kum. Chief Bull Elk.” She continued to walk toward the party, refusing to comfort her insolent sister any more than necessary.   “Wait, Fancy. How do you know that savage?”   “He came to a powwow with Ranger MacRae and Herr Mannfried last month in Fredericksburg.” That day, Bull Elk had worn his ceremonial headdress for the meeting and long buckskin trousers. No shirt then either. The better to show off that magnificent muscular chest. She quivered recalling how attractive she had thought him then. How his gaze made her want his large hands around her waist.   How she imagined him kissing her lips. Her breasts. And even, oh god, her pussy. She cleared her throat, trying to rid her mind of her forbidden lust for the Comanche. “Ranger MacRae introduced me when I served them all food and lemonade.”   “That doesn’t make him civilized, Fancy. You’d better not go near him.”   “Don’t be a ninny, Coll. He’s fine. He speaks English too. I heard him.” She continued her way up to the ridge and stopped in front of the handsome Comanche who some said would lead his people to white folks’ ways. “Hello, Chief. How are you today?”   Though she smiled at him in greeting, he narrowed those large umber eyes at her as if he were seeing her for the first time. “Fancee. Tur. Ner.”   “Yes.” She nodded. “Nice. You remember my name.”   One of his braves spoke up, gesturing to her and shaking his head as he pointed toward Collette.   “Patuwa kum,” Fancy tried for some polite conversation, “do you…perhaps…go to Fredericksburg today?”    Two other braves murmured to their leader and Fancy could make out that they spoke his name the way she had. From the amused looks on their faces, they were making fun of her pronunciation.   So much for trying to be neighborly. Not eager to be an object of their ridicule, she bid them good day. She turned her back and trod along the stony path toward her family’s ranch house.   “Fancy,” Collette called, “don’t you dare leave me here alone with these beasts.”   Fancy didn’t bother to turn. Her sister didn’t deserve her consideration after the way she had spoken to her today. “Maybe they can teach you some manners, Coll. As for me, I am going home. Come, if you wish, or stay and reconsider your ways.”   “You little bitch!”  At the insult, Fancy halted in her tracks.  At once, the air was filled with war whoops and Fancy felt the earth vibrate with the pounding of horses’ hooves.    “No! Noooo!” Collette cried out.   Fancy whirled to see Bull Elk and his nine braves charging toward her. Her fingers went numb. Her basket of flowers fell.   Bull Elk rode straight at her. Her body frozen, her fears of being trampled by his horse turning her blood to ice, she cringed. Then she hiked up her skirts and ran. She didn’t get but two steps away.   The Comanche chief yelled a heinous cry as he came upon her and scooped her up across his lap, hanging her over his horse’s back, face down. Air slammed from her lungs. Her head spun. She tried to scream and no sound came out.   Bull Elk’s braves galloped beside him, chanting ear-splitting cries. He echoed their sounds as they raced across the hills.   Still Collette’s cries rang in her ears. “Noooo! Oh, god, no. Bring her back! Fancy! Fan-ceeee!”    The chief pinned Fancy down, his massive hand to her spine. Her long platinum waves escaped her bun and cascaded around her face. Her fingers scraped tall grasses as Bull Elk rode like the wind across the rough terrain. She winced, curling her fingers to her palms. His companions rode nearer and nearer to them so that dirt and stones cast up from their horses’ hooves hit her in the face. Clamping her eyes shut, she heard Bull Elk call to them, curt commands she took to mean, Hurry. Others follow. Their wails frightened her so that she feared she die of it. Breathless, her lungs straining for air, her ribs bruised from the galloping of the horse across the barren plain, Fancy feared all hope was lost for rescue when Collette’s shrill demands died in the distance behind her.   She writhed but Bull Elk hooked his arm around her, bent over her to keep her firmly across his saddle and rode on. And on. And on.   And she wished he would never stop. For when he did, Fancy understood from tales of so many others who had been captured by the Comanche, that he would strip her, scalp her and maybe even skin her. She fervently prayed before that happened, she would die.

STEAL ME AWAY, out today! Stolen by a Comanche chief! YUM!

http://www.ellorascave.com/steal-me-away.html The prequel to my KNIGHTS IN BLACK LEATHER series, STEAL ME AWAY is a book I had a wonderful time researching.
And lemme just say, yammers to the cover artist who captured (ahem) BULL ELK so well. Fancy Turner, too!
He is delicious, I think, in print and in person.
Imagine. Being stolen and loving every second of it...almost!
The Comanche of the south Texas plains were not gentle people. In fact, they were to many the most fierce, the angriest ones to confront the Anglos and Tejanos who came to settle here.
Because very few Comanche remain, I had a devil of a time researching.
But let's here it for my hubbie who, while on TDY in Oklahoma, found the most marvelous reference on them.
I had read bits and snatches in other books devoted to other subjects, but here in STEAL ME AWAY, you learn (really you do!) what I learned. And it is historically accurate, down to the last few chapters...which I will unmercifully tease you with and say, you must read to learn!
ENJOY!
Bull Elk is one of my most favorite heroes...and I hope you agree!

Stolen by a Comanche? Dear Reader: It really happened! STEAL ME AWAY out tomorrow at EC!

    Out tomorrow from EC:
http://www.ellorascave.com/steal-me-away.html STEAL ME AWAY did happen! Yes, Anglo women were stolen by the Comanche in south Texas, taken as brides and many decided to stay with their husbands.
     In STEAL ME AWAY, my first historical background to my contemporary KNIGHTS IN BLACK LEATHER series, Francine Turner tells the story of her abduction, her "marriage" and her life with the Comanche chief, Patuwa kum, or as he was known to the Anglos, Bull Elk.
     Fancy is the youngest of three sisters who live in the Texas Hill Country in 1860s. The Texans are devastated by the loss of so many of their men during the Civil War. The Texas regiment of General John Hood fought valiantly as many of the battles such as Antietam, Gettysburg and Chickamauga, but thousands were wounded and died.
     With so many men her age dead, Fancy, as her family called her, had few hopes of marrying, save for the two MacRae brothers who lived south in San Antonio. But she had met Bull Elk at many of the powwows that the Comanche and Anglos had together—and she was attracted to him.
    What you read in STEAL ME AWAY is very accurate. I did quite a bit of research, thanks to my husband who helped me find the best references.
But here are a few non-fiction books you may enjoy reading about real-life abductions.

A discussion of Cynthia Parker who was taken from her family in the Hill Country, tells how she decided to stay with her Indian husband and bore him a son who become one of the most famous cooperative chieftains of the Comanche nation. This book parallels the facts with the famous movie, The Searchers , starring John Wayne. (Do watch that movie!)

And one of my favorite non-fiction books about those stolen by the Comanche is THE CAPTURED by Scott Zesch, a former resident of the Hill Country and a descendant of one of those taken by the Indians. I met him years ago when he signed the book locally and I heartily recommend this for anyone who wants to understand the challenges of settling the American western plains.

If you are inclined to read fiction to learn history, I recommend NOT BETWEEN BROTHERS by David Marion Wilkinson and of course, LONESOME DOVE by Larry McMurtry.

The Delicate Art of Juggling Sanity Balls! Sabrina York tells all!

Thank you Cerise, for this opportunity to share my thoughts.I’ve been a published writer for a year now and I have come to a stunning realization. There is just not enough time in the day to get everything done.I know what you’re thinking. Hello Sabrina. You’ve been a published writer for a year and you are just now figuring this out?Yes. What can I say? I’ve been distracted. And when I am distracted I tend to miss things that are glaringly obvious to other, shall we say, normal people.I’ve wanted to be a published author since I was six. It’s been my dream, my goal, my one shining ambition. I had no idea having my dreams come true would catapult me into such a crazy universe.For the past year I have been riding the wildest roller coaster. Writing, editing, publishing, promoting, and having more fun than should be legal in a civilized society. As my alter ego, Sabrina York, I’ve met the most amazing people, gone to conferences, signed books, been interviewed on the radio, had a very exciting (five-minute) stint on a bestseller list and been showered with adoration and manure on review sites. (Thank God for umbrellas, that’s all I gotta say).I also had a full time day job, took care of my family, dealt with a cranky (and old) car, nursed my dog and son through two surgeries, struggled with some health scares of my own AND volunteered for four nonprofits.Phew. How many lives can a writer jam into one existence?
Here’s what they never tell you in the “So You Want to be Published” Playbook: When you get published, LIFE keeps happening! The universe is expanding…with geometric progression.The exciting thing is, well, the universe is expanding.On the down side, we have to keep up with that expansion.I wouldn’t give up a minute of the past year. It’s been a thrilling adventure. But, as I mentioned above, there are not enough hours in the day…There have been other epiphanies as well—some earth-shaking, some not—which I would like to share. Take from these “nuggets” what you will. Flush the rest.·       REVELATION #1: Sleep is not technically necessary for a body to function. If a writer wants to be a writer (and an editor and a promoter and be on frickin Twitter until her thumbs bleed) AND have a day job and have a family and occasionally eat and bathe…sleep may be a luxury she cannot afford. On that note:·       REVELATION #1b: Punch-drunk editing is pretty much the same as drunk editing. If you do it, you’ll regret it in the morning.·       REVELATION #2: We all have a DayBasket to tend. What to put in your DayBasket is the most important decision you will make every morning after “how much caffeine can I fit in my coffee mug?” If a writer is tempted to multitask, i.e. pile task after task after task into the same DayBasket, the basket is likely to overflow and spill onto the floor. This is why it is essential for a writer to keep a cluttered house. You are less likely to notice the spillage.·       REVELATION #2b: On the up side, you can take “Housecleaning” right out of your DayBasket and fling it over your shoulder into oblivion.·       REVELATION #2c: Have a care what you put at the bottom of your basket—No matter how much or how little a writer stuffs in her DayBasket, something has to fall to the bottom. At best, the tender bulbs languishing there will be smashed into flat, indeterminate blobs by the hulking weight of responsibility and guilt.  ·       REVELATION #3: There are consequences to MultiLiving. If a writer tries to cram too many lives into the same physical body, some of those lives may leak out the seams in the form of her sanity. This leakage is often mistaken for “farts” but rarely smells as pleasant.·       REVELATION #4: Do not write wearing bunny slippers. Because you wiggle your toes when you write (especially when you write to music) and your dog really likes to chew on bunnies.·       REVELATION #5: It is important to remember what really matters. The most important things are:o   Be nice. No matter how tired you are or how many Screaming Mimis you had to deal with at your hideous-dear-god-why-can’t-I-quit-my-day-job, you always have to put on a happy face and be gracious when you address your writerly world. Because, frankly, they don’t know. And you don’t want them to.o   We cannot do it alone. It is important to HELP each other, writers and publishers and bloggers and reviewers…we’re all in this together and we need each other with equity that hurts. o   And the most important thing of all? Readers. Every time I sit down to plot or craft or even frickin tweet, it’s for the readers. Everything, all of it, is for the readers. Because without readers, writing is just author masturbation, or authorbation. Which isn’t really a BAD thing, per se. Hell, I did it for years. It’s just so much more fun to do it with an audience.So there you go. Five of the revelations that have helped me maintain my sanity in this brave new world. Do I question my determination to be a writer in the gray hours just before dawn when I haven’t yet finished editing and it is almost time to get up for work?No. Because I am a writer.I am making my dream come true.sabrina York tells us!And frankly, sanity is overrated. About Sabrina YorkSabrina is an award winning author of erotic romance with nearly a dozen titlesavailable, ranging from sweet & sexy erotic romance to BDSM to erotic horror. Connect with her on twitter @sabrina_york or Facebook. Check out her contests, books and newsletter at www.sabrinayork.com.Her most recent release, Rebound—the first episode in a self published series about a group of sexy friends sharing a vacation house—hit #3 on the Amazon free erotica list in April. And yes, she nearly peed her pants with delight. You can read the blurb and excerpt on Amazon.  Or visit Sabrina’s Amazon author page for details on all her books.And you might want to check out all her books because if you post a comment below, with the title of the Sabrina York book you’d like to win in your message, you will be entered in a drawing to win an ecopy. I’ll pick a winner from all the commenters when I return from the RT Booklovers Convention, where I am now, gleefully handing out Hot Dots!Good luck!

My One Truth about the writing life is...what?

Short BDSM Historical Western
At the London Book Fair last month, author Nail Gaiman kicked off the event by taking about the Brave New World of publishing. Yes, unlike Scott Turow and his narrower point of view, Gaiman declared, in essence we are about to see an explosion in publishing.I agree. We already see all of the following: ·      Blogs about Trad vs. E·      Blogs about Self-pubbers who do well giving advice on how to for those not selling so well·      Formatting businesses·      Graphic Design businesses·      Copy Editors and Proofers·      Previous 3 rolled into One Vendor·      Interactive books (and that software development)·      Interactive websites coordinated with books·      Publicists who do all of the following:·      Blog tours·      social media tours·      FB and TW specialists·      newsletters, press kits, video press kits, you tube interviews, etc.·        Romantic SuspenseMy mind is awhirl.  And bottom line is that much in this brave new world is very similar to the Old Stick in the Mud World:Some authors make it big.Many can earn a living by writing REALLY great books.Some of both groups made it by doing lots of PR, social promo, etc.Some made it by luck.
But the real bottom line is that an author must write—first, foremost and ALWAYS—because she/he wouldn’t do anything else in this life and be fulfilled.Clearly, I write what I like...and I like a lot of different kinds of books! Regency erotica

Reading glut, eye-strain alert, AKA why doesn’t an indie author’s spell check or punctuation check work any longer?

Coming soon
with perfect spelling and punctuation!
Yes, I am an addict. I read till my eyeballs scream, but ignore their protests and continue to read with my fingertips, anything to finish a good book.
So why do I allow some authors to abuse my precious time, my precious body and my pocketbook by posting books with BAD (really, really BAD) punctuation and horrible (OMG!) spelling? And why oh, why do these folks make it to the best seller lists?
I am stumped. Stupified. Flummoxed.
I am outraged at their sloppiness and disregard for my reading experience, which by all means should focus on their story NOT their hideous lack of professionalism! (And their rush to collect my money in their bank account for what is a sloppy product!)
Last week, I bought a book on the NYT list by an indie author.  (Really, she is a HYBRID author who has been pubbed by a traditional publisher. Therefore, her punctuation and spelling “feet” have been held to the proverbial fire and she should know better than to do this to her readers.) I was curious as to the reason for her success. (Topic? Plot? Unique conflict? What, what?) I had to know!
Dear Reader, I read this book, and cursed each page, sometimes 10 or more lines per page for the hideous punctuation and spelling! No, it was not that she failed to provide proper formatting for her indie book. She did not understand the use of any of the following:commaellipsesM dash (and lack thereof)N dashQuotation marks (Please, shoot me.)Scene breaks
Why did I endure this to THE END?
After 20 or so pages of this insult, l should have stopped. Shouldn’t I? I should have said, no more, you are killing me softly. I should have thrown it across the room (or deleted it from iPad) and asked why I take my precious time to turn in perfectly spelled and punctuated pieces (even those I have self-pubbed) and I read this???
But I will never do so again.
Why?
My iPad, darling creature, has so much on it that is luscious, transportive reading. Courtesy of all those wonderful authors, many of them good friends of mine, I have wonderful hours awaiting me. Furthermore, because pricing in the industry is so competitive lately, many of them were discounted. Most were not. But I bought each on that wonderful literate whim that comes to us when we see a novel we MUST read. I have stored many for that rainy day when my soul needs to be fed with divine tales that I have neither the time nor the proclivity to create myself.
So this author is no longer on my iPad. Her works—and I had 2 more of them on there—I eliminated.
I called up my best friend and screamed about the audacity to insult me as a consumer, a reader and an author!
I have written of my outrage here.
I feel better.
And the next time, I see this in a book, I hope to god I have the intelligence to end my torture sooner. And may you too end it so that somewhere in the universe, authors who don't learn or don't take time to do it right, hie themselves off to a place we cannot find their works for sale...anywhere.

Why Sabrina York Can't Resist a Dare!

My mother was a strong, stubborn woman who fought like a tigress for her cubs. And thank God.When they oh-so-politely explained that her daughter was far too stupid to learn to read, much less write, she refused to believe them. And she refused to let me believe them. She dared me to prove them wrong.I did.That probably accounts for the fact that even now, at the advanced age of oh-I-don’t-know-let’s-just-say-twenty-five, I still have the inclination to think “they” are full of $h!t.Not only did I learn to read (and learn to LOVE reading), I learned to write. And because they told me I couldn’t, I became obsessed with writing well.  I dedicated myself to winning every writing award  I could get my grubby paws on just to prove them wrong.And because they told me I would never get published, I did that. It took me decades (I started when I was five, right?) but I did it.Last April.Last April my first book (Adam’s Obsession) came out.Since then I’ve released nearly a dozen titles and have many more in the wings and, I am delighted to report, fans all over the world. Who knew?I’m about to undertake another daunting feat—one that has me nibbling my fingernails to the nub.I am releasing my first self-pubbed book.There were a lot of reasons for trying this—not the least of which is the ability to offer a book for free once in a while to THANK MY READERS for their loyalty. But to be perfectly honest, I just want to prove to myself that I can. Yet another grand adventure for a girl who always dreamed of being a writer but was told she was far too dyslexic to try.There are always people willing to tell you reasons you shouldn’t take a dare.It’s a good thing I never listen.
Rebound is Book One of the Tryst Island Series—following the romantic adventures of a group of friends sharing a vacation house on the fictional Trystacomseh Island in Washington State’s San Juan archipelago. The series was inspired by my visits to a family cabin on the coast. I’ll share a picture of the view, so you get an idea why I couldn’t stop myself from writing these stories. Sigh. I know. Right?Here’s a taste of Rebound. It’s scheduled to come out April 4th on Amazon. I hope you check it out.
Rebound by Sabrina York A Tryst Island Erotic RomanceKristi Cross has had the hots for her friend, Cameron Jackson as long as she can remember, but she knows she’s not his type. She’s nothing like the women he dates. So when he suggests they play for a kiss over a game of Hearts, Kristi can’t resist. Even if she loses, she wins. Because she’s finally going to tastehim. Of course, one kiss can quickly become something altogether steamier, especially when both parties are on the rebound…An Excerpt of ReboundCam nodded and dealt the cards. They were halfway through the first hand when he broke the silence.“Do you remember the first time we played?”“You had to teach me.”“Took me all night.”“That was hardly my fault.” She rearranged her cards. “You kept pouring me shots.”“You’re the one who kept drinking them.”She feigned a pout. “I had to keep up with Jamie.”“Now, shewas easy to beat.”“So was I, once you got me liquored up.”His chortle rumbled through her. “You figured out my strategy.” He shot her a saucy leer. “You sure you don’t want another beer?”“No way. I’m winning this game, buster.”They played for a while longer before he spoke again. This time, his words sent a scalding sizzle through her solar plexus. “You know Kristi, I can’t remember a time when we were both…single.”Her heart seized. “What?” Thank God she hadn’t just taken a sip of beer—she would have spewed it across the table for sure. “Think about it. Since the day we met, one of us was always in a relationship.”Usually him.She didn’t respond. She didn’t know what to say.He winced as he took a trick. “I just think it’s interesting. That’s all.”“What’s… interesting?” It took everything in her not to mangle her cards.“You know. That we’re both available. Both here. Alone.”Under the weight of his steamy gaze, all uncertainty wafted away. That was definitely interest simmering in those steely blue orbs.Kristi’s pulse went into rapid-fire mode. Her breath hitched. Heat lashed through her.“I…ah… W-what’s your p-point?” She tried to act all blasé, but the stuttering probably ruined it.His expression shifted, darkened. The smoldering, seductive mien made her belly flutter. “I was thinking we could play…for something.”“S-something?”“A kiss, maybe?”Brain freeze. Every thought fled. Every cogent inkling spun out of reach. She could only feel. Stare at him in shock. Ache for him.  His tongue came out, dabbing at his lips. She fixated on it, imagining that tongue, what it could do. The havoc it could cause on various parts of her trembling body—“A kiss?” A squeak. “We’ve never k-kissed before.”He leaned closer. His voice dropped an octave. “I’m aware of that.”“But-but… I thought… We’re just f-friends.”He studied her over his cards, stroking them slowly. “Are you saying you don’t want to kiss me?”“I… No! I just… We’ve always… It’s probably…”Amusement—twined with certainty—lightened his intensity. “What are you trying to say, Kristi?”She meticulously rearranged her cards. “I just… I didn’t think you found me attractive. That’s all.”He boggled. “Are you crazy? You’re stunning.”A little thrill flickered up her spine. “I’m not.” She ignored his frown at that, and plowed on with her reasoning. “Besides, in all these years, none of us… well, none of us have.”“Lane and Lucy did.”“And look how well that worked out.”“I’m suggesting a kiss, Kristi. Just a kiss.” He stroked his lips. “Be honest. Haven’t you ever wondered what it would be like between us?”A hot tide crawled up her cheeks. He didn’t miss it. He couldn’t. Her cheeks were neon red. Like a well-cooked lobster.His features tightened. A muscle ticked in his cheek. “You have. Haven’t you? Imagined it?” The hint, the thread of uncertainty in the words struck her to the core.He was uncertain? He was nervous? Holy Hannah.“I…” She plucked at the label again. It was becoming quite shredded. “Maybe.” A whisper.“Well. So have I. Often.”She gaped at him. “Often?”“Very often.”“But…” She swallowed the words clogging her throat.“But what?”“I… Robyn was perfect.”“She was.” Her belly dipped at that. “But when she smiled, she didn’t smile with her whole face. Not the way you do. She didn’t embrace life. She just kind of clung to the edges. You toss yourself in.” He fondled the neck of his bottle. “It’s an attractive quality, Kris. A man can’t help wondering…”“Wondering what?”“If you make love that way too.”Ooh. Those words skimmed over the air between them, smooth and silky and oh so beguiling.Not that he needed to seduce her. Hell, all he had to do was breathe and she wanted him. Still…“Are you drunk?”He grinned. “Not in the slightest.”“This is probably a bad idea.”His grin broadened.“Cam, we’re both on the rebound.”He shifted, as though something was making his position uncomfortable. “Sometimes you score the winning point off a rebound.”“A basketball analogy? Really?” He knew she was a football fan.“If the shoe fits.” He reached across the table and took her hand in his. His heat enveloped her, sank in and made her want to weep. She could only imagine how good he would feel touching her all over. Pressing her into a downy mattress. Entering her in a hard, hot thrust…Lordy. She could imagine it. So well, her body was already preparing for it. A slick dampness eased between her thighs. Her nipples pebbled. Her womb clenched in hunger.“What would the others think?”“Why would we tell them?” His expression was far too innocent. “It’s only a kiss.”“One kiss?”“One kiss. A forfeit. If you win the game, I kiss you. If I win, you kiss me.”She glanced at his lips. Strong. Powerful. Perfectly formed. She’d wanted to feel them, taste them, have them since the day they’d met. Why was she dithering? What was she afraid of?Well, other than heartbreak.But she’d long ago learned that heartbreak could come whether you were careful or reckless.Might as well be reckless.She would rather enjoy a decadent sliver of fudgy brownie than suffer through a lifetime of rice cakes.“Okay. Let’s do it.”He stared at her. The tension between them mounted, hummed. His Adam’s apple made the slow journey up and back down his throat. Then he picked up the cards, shuffled once and quickly dealt out a new hand.Kristi’s pulse raced. Her mind whirled. Her body trembled.She was going to do it.After all these years.She was going to kiss Cam Jackson. Other Books by Sabrina YorkAdam’s Obsession (Erotic Contemporary, Ellora’s Cave)Dark Fancy (Erotic Regency, Ellora’s Cave)Extreme Couponing (Erotic Contemporary, Ellora’s Cave)Five Alarm Fire (Erotic Contemporary for the High Octane Heroes Anthology, Cleis Press)—coming soonFolly (Erotic Regency, Ellora’s Cave)Lust Eternal (Erotic Fantasy, Ellora’s Cave) —coming soonPushing Her Buttons (Erotic Contemporary, Ellora’s Cave)Making Over Maris (Erotic Contemporary, Ellora’s Cave) —coming soonMan Hungry (Erotic Contemporary, Ellora’s Cave)Rebound: A Tryst Island Erotic Romance (Erotic Contemporary, Available on Amazon)Rising Green (Erotic Horror, Ellora’s Cave) Saving Charlotte (Erotic Contemporary for the Smokin' Hot Firemen Anthology, Cleis Press)Training Tess (Erotic Contemporary, Ellora’s Cave)Trickery (Erotic Contemporary with Magical Elements, Ellora’s Cave Hex Line)Tristan’s Temptation (Erotic Contemporary, Ellora’s Cave)
***ENTER TO WIN SABRINA’S TIARA***  Okay, I admit it. I have a bling fetish.  I buy all the sparkly tiaras I can get my hands on, but my tiara closet is getting cluttered, so I have to give one away. (Or more. Who knows. I’m all capricious like that.)  Sometime in April I will be giving away my Anniversary Tiara. Can’t say when, because I haven’t decided yet, so you should probably enter today.  To enter, just sign up for the Royal Hotsheet (Sabrina’s Newsletter). Newsletter subscribers are eligible to win all coming contests as well as random giveaways. Because, have I mentioned? Tiara closet? Cluttered?  Send an email with "Enter Me" in the subject line (this is erotica, after all) to sabrina@sabrinayork.com. If you want to win a copy of Man Hungry, mention that in the body of the email!   The drawing will be completely random. I made it a point to have the one person on the planet who ABSOLUTELY DOES NOT CARE WHO WINS draw the winner.   That is, after all, what teenage sons are for.  Remember, only one entry per person, but if you refer your friends you will earn bonus entries.  Refer Your Friends Bonus Entries
  Tell your friends about Sabrina York, Her Royal Hotness. If they sign up for Sabrina's Hotsheet you earn another entry, plus a chance at a Referrals Only drawing for more bling. (NOTE: They must tell me that you referred them in the message box so I can give you credit).  Good luck!!!About Sabrina York  Sabrina is an award winning author of erotic romance with nearly a dozen titlesavailable, ranging from sweet & sexy erotic romance to BDSM to erotic horror. Connect with her on twitter @sabrina_york or Facebook.

Are you MAN HUNGRY?

   Cerise, darling, thank you so much for inviting me to blab about my latest book! I always have so much fun when I visit you!   Today I am celebrating the release for my sexy funny short story, Man Hungry, the tale of what happens when two practical jokers are matched up on a blind date. This book was so much fun to write, I just had to share. It’s a really quick, fun read. I’ve attached the blurb and excerpt below so you get a taste!   I also wanted to let you know that I have an exciting new book coming out in April, Rebound, which I have talked about below.    Oh, and this is important! Today is the LAST DAY to enter my Tiara Giveaway.    Well…until I decide to give away another. My bling closet is getting kind of cluttered. (But darling, if you’re going to be a hoarder, shouldn’t you be hoarding bling?”)***ENTER TO WIN SABRINA’S TIARA***   There’s still time to enter to win my Tiara and a copy of Man Hungry! To enter, just sign up for the Royal Hotsheet (Sabrina’s Newsletter). Newsletter subscribers are eligible to win all coming contests as well as random giveaways. Because, have I mentioned? Tiara closet? Cluttered?   Send an email with "Enter Me" in the subject line (this is erotica, after all) to sabrina@sabrinayork.com. If you want to win a copy of Man Hungry, mention that in the body of the email!    The drawing will be March 31, 2013. It is a completely random drawing. I made it a point to have the one person on the planet who ABSOLUTELY DOES NOT CARE about the results draw the winner.    That is, after all, what teenage sons are for.   Remember, only one entry per person, but if you refer your friends you will earn bonus entries. Refer Your Friends Bonus Entries
   Tell your friends about Sabrina York, Her Royal Hotness. If they sign up for Sabrina's Hotsheet you earn another entry, plus a chance at a Referrals Only drawing for more bling. (NOTE: They must tell me that you referred them in the message box so I can give you credit).   Good luck!!!
   Now that we have that out of the way, here’s the taste of Man Hungry I promised!   MAN HUNGRY by Sabrina York   Blind dates are hell. At least that’s what Justin thinks before he’s set up with Jessica, a sizzling-hot schoolteacher who captures his heart—or at least his lust—at first sight. He can’t let their date fail so he does what any sane, rational prankster would do—he pretends he’s there to meet someone else. A man-hungry schoolmarm.   Jessica knows full well that Justin is her date, so she decides to have a little fun and show him exactly how man hungry a “schoolmarm” can be. And Jessica’s hunger is all for Justin. On the dance floor, atop a table, up against a door…she just can’t get enough.    This is an Ellora’s Cave Quickie, so be ready for a wild ride with lots of action—and ultimate satisfaction—packed into a sizzling short story.An Excerpt from Man Hungry  Copyright © 2013 by Sabrina York, 2013All Rights Reserved, Ellora’s Cave Publishing , Inc.
By reading any further you are stating you are at least 18 years of age. If you are under the age of 18, it is necessary for you to exit this site.
   “You’ve got to save me.”   Jessica blinked as the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen slipped into her booth and grabbed her hand. She barely registered the intrusion. His grasp was that warm.   “I beg your pardon?” She lifted her voice above the blare of the band. It was a country band and a country bar—not her preference but a girl had to do what a girl had to do to meet a decent guy.   “Please. You look like a compassionate soul.” His crooked grin, ringed as it was by a scruffy beard, made rivulets of excitement trickle down her spine, as did the tantalizing dent in his chin. His eyes, large and brown and fringed with long, thick lashes, glinted with humor. A deep dimple sliced through one cheek. His Stetson, from which dark curls erupted, was tipped at a jaunty angle. He batted his lashes—a move that frankly should be against the law. “Can’t you find it in your heart to save me?”   His Dallas drawl made her mouth water—she’d always had a thing for cowboys with dented chins—but she stiffened her spine against his appeal.   She did not need another puppy dog lover. She’d had enough of those in her life. That’s why she was here. To meet her friend Penny’s staid, stick-in-the-mud lawyer cousin. A guy she could have a future with. Who liked country music. And country bars.   He was probably a Republican.   Good. She hoped he was.   She hoped he was a grown-upas well.   Nope. No more puppy dogs for her. She’d made an oath. And she was bone-tired of cleaning up their messes on the carpet. Against her will, her lips twitched. She did love those puppy dogs. And this one was damn cute.   She cleared her throat. It was clogged with arousal. “Save you from what?”   Her cute cowboy slash puppy dog shot a look around the crowded bar and hunkered lower like an outlaw hiding from the sheriff. “The dreaded man-hungry spinster.”   A laugh bubbled through her. As pickup lines went, at least his was original. And entertaining. She lifted her beer to disguise her amusement.   “Oh. Sorry.” His gaze danced back to hers. “I meant to say the dreaded man-hungry spinster schoolmarm.” He offered a charming, self-effacing grin.   Jessica stilled, bottle halfway to her mouth. She was a spinster schoolmarm. Well, an unmarried teacher at least. Close enough.   The cowboy leaned in. His warm breath skated across her cheek. It was all she could do not to nestle right up against him. Melt, maybe. “Just dance with me. Please? One dance before I have to resign myself to the misery of a blind date?”   Jessica’s belly lurched. “You’re meeting a blind date?”   Oh. Crap. So was she. She was a spinster schoolmarm here to meet a blind date.   Oh. He couldn’t be Justin. Could he? She narrowed her focus on his face, nearly distracted by the lazy droop of his lids, the full lips, his scent as it wafted toward her every time he moved. He didn’t look like the guy in the tux down the line from Penny in her wedding photo, the guy with the short-cropped hair and formal posture.   The stodgy lawyer.    Her attention snagged on his jawline and a shiver raced through her. She had a thing for a hard, square, dented chin. Yeah, his hair was longer, he was definitely scruffy and he was dressed in a very unlawyerlike long-sleeved t-shirt, jeans and cowboy boots. But she’d recognize that chin anywhere.   “Ho yeah.” He nodded and an unruly curl About Sabrina YorkSabrina is an award winning author of erotic romance with nearly a dozen titlesavailable, ranging from sweet & sexy erotic romance to BDSM to erotic horror. Connect with her on twitter @sabrina_york or Facebook.Check out Sabrina’s books and read an excerpt on her webpage (www.sabrinayork.com) or explore on Amazon or at Ellora’s Cave.·       Adam’s Obsession: Contemporary Erotic Romance  ·       Extreme Couponing: Contemporary BDSM ·       Folly: Erotic Regency·       Man Hungry: Erotic Contemporary·       Pushing Her Buttons: Contemporary BDSM  ·       Rising Green: Steamy Erotic horror ·       Training Tess: Contemporary BDSM  ·       Trickery: Magical Domination  ·       Tristan’s Temptation: Contemporary Erotic Romance  
Coming Soon from Sabrina York: Rebound, Book One of the Tryst Island Series. Fall in Love on Tryst Island…When a group of friends share a vacation house, wild hijinks, unexpected hook-ups and steamy sex ensue. And true love. Did I mention they all find true love? And steamy sex?Rebound by Sabrina York A Tryst Island Erotic RomanceKristi Cross has had the hots for her friend, Cameron Jackson as long as she could remember, but she knows she’s not his type. She’s nothing like the women he dates. So when he suggests they play for a kiss over a game of Hearts, Kristi can’t resist. Even if she loses, she wins. Because she’s finally going to taste him. Of course, one kiss can quickly become something altogether steamier, especially when both parties are on the rebound…

Rose, Exposed - Sex and Marriage in the 1930s

Thank you for hosting me today. I’m excited to discuss sex and marriage in the 1930s and my recent release, Rose, Exposed, a multicultural historical erotic romance set in the 1930s.
This post is part of the official Rose, Exposed Blog Tour (3/26 - 4/09).                   The grand prize for the tour is vintage-style rose earrings for pierced ears (U.S. shipping address only). To be eligible, COMMENT on this post. Comment should include the historical time period and geographical setting (when and where) you’d most like to see in a romance.The tour winner will be announced at http://www.aftonlocke.com/RoseExposedTour.html on April 11th.



Sex and Marriage in the 1930s
Today, when a man wants to have sex with a woman, he usually dates her and might even live with her if he wants it on a regular basis. People tend to get married later, after living together, or not at all. In the 1930s, however, the subject of marriage came up a lot faster in conversation. Try watching a classic movie and then a modern one. Count the number of times the word marriage is used in each. I bet you’ll see a big difference. If a man wanted to get a woman into bed, he knew marriage was the most practical way to get there.
The relationship between marriage and sex has evolved over time and will surely continue. Historically, marriages of convenience were common. This common plot device in historical novels features two strangers who find themselves in close proximity, which kindles a new flame. Also, young ladies commonly moved from the home of their family of origin directly to that of their husband. From birth to widowhood, men ran their lives. Finally, social mores prevented unmarried girls from being seen with men without a suitable chaperone. Courting had a lot of restrictions and always had marriage as the tangible goal.
By the 1930s, however, the old social mores were changing. Dating -- spending time with a man with the goal of fun instead of marriage -- began in the 1920s. Some women even lived independently as single, working women before marriage.
In my new release Rose, Exposed, the heroine struggles with morality. Torn between duty and desire, she wants to enjoy the passion of married people without the marriage because she doesn’t want to be told what to do for the rest of her life by yet another man. In the prequel, Plucking the Pearl, the heroine also struggled with the morality of the times. A reviewer said I did a nice job striking the right balance. I hope I’ve achieved it in the sequel as well.

Rose, Exposed


Publisher:  Ellora's Cave PublishingRelease Date:  27 March 2013eBook ISBN #:  978-14199-45205Buy eBook:  http://www.ellorascave.com/rose-exposed.htmlStay tuned for reviews and more: http://www.aftonlocke.com/Rose.html
Video/trailer : http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4bT9x9-Hlhw&feature=youtu.be(I love creating trailers for all my books!)
Blurb When Leroy Johnson gets promoted at the new oyster plant on Pearl Point, all he cares about is working hard. When he meets the flirtatious artist Rose Wainwright, however, nothing matters except getting her to the altar and into bed. Healing from a recent loss, he’s not about to let her go too.
Because Rose’s strict, social-climbing father doesn’t approve of dark-skinned Leroy, they court in secret anyplace they can find. Although Leroy’s raw passion can convince her to do almost anything, why can’t he understand she needs freedom, not marriage?Her father wants her to be white, but Leroy wants her to be black. Playing both sides of the fence leaves this young biracial beauty exposed in more ways than one.
Excerpt (explicit) Rose, Exposed - Copyright © AFTON LOCKE, 2013 - All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.
“You’re so…dark,” she exclaimed. Instead of the disdain he expected, he heard fascination.
Come on, lady. Don’t tell me you’ve never seen a colored man before.
“Yes, I’m dark,” he agreed as he politely removed her hand, “which is why it’s not a good idea for us to sit alone together in this car. Someone might come along and jump to the wrong conclusion.”
A conclusion that could get him beat up or worse with the Klan close by on Oyster Island.
But before he could stop her, she clasped both sides of his face and pressed her sweet mouth to his. Aw, hell. A man only had so much self-control, and she’d just shattered his. Unable to stop himself, he plundered her delicate mouth. Her lips reminded him of rose petals, and he sucked the sweetness out of them as if he were a bee. The more he tasted, the more he wanted.
She opened, giving him access to her even sweeter tongue. His penis strained, hard and now wet, against his undershorts. Hell, even his balls must be twice their normal size. Taking a big breath, he pulled away from her.
“We can’t do this. You’re white.”
She looked down at her upturned palms. “Then I really do look white?”
Leroy frowned. “Aren’t you?”
For the first time, her smile disappeared, making him shiver in his wet clothes. “The truth is, I don’t know what I am. I suppose that’s why I took this foolish drive.”
She must be biracial then, he realized, and not forbidden after all. The thought made him want to dance on the hood of the car. She still looked white, though. If he didn’t have the time to court a girl his own color, he sure didn’t have any for a complicated one like this.
“Kiss me again,” she demanded.
Without waiting for him to answer, she locked her hot, damp mouth on his again and tugged hard on his shoulders. Before he knew it, he was on top of her on the front seat. He wished her dress weren’t so thin when two round breasts pushed against his chest and long, slender legs shifted restlessly under his. Dizzy with the scent of rain and her, he froze.
At that moment, nothing mattered except finding out if her cunt was as sweet and yielding as her mouth. He didn’t care if the entire Klan showed up, knocked on the window and caught him thrusting between her legs on this slippery leather seat. It had been too damn long since he’d had a woman. He needed to stop this while he still could.
“Do you know what you’re asking for?” Lust had turned his voice into a husky croak.
She laughed and touched his face again. “I don’t know. What am I asking for?”
This girl was crazier than he’d first thought. What if someone less honorable than himself had stopped instead? She could’ve been raped.
“A whole lot of trouble.” He sat up. “Look, this is not the time or the place. Now let’s get you home.”
The sooner he could be rid of her—before she derailed him from his job, family, and everything else that mattered—the better.

WIPs Coming Soon
Rose, Exposed is the sequel to Plucking the Pearl , an interracial historical erotic romance.http://www.aftonlocke.com/pearl.htmlI have two more books planned for the Oyster Harbor series. Next up for romance are Sadie and Henry.
In addition to interracial/multicultural historicals, I also plan to keep writing erotic contemporaries. Can an older woman find love with a hot male stripper? My current WIP, Two Hours to Entice , will answer that question.

Where readers can find me
I will be attending EC’s RomantiCon Oct 10-13, 2013 in Canton, Ohio - http://ecromanticon.com/:Don’t miss the book signing on Oct 13th. I’m also hosting a Fabulous Fusion workshop with Koko Brown and Eve Vaughn to celebrate interracial erotic romance for EC’s Fusion line.
Web site: http://www.aftonlocke.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/afton.locke
Twitter: http://twitter.com/aftonlocke
Newsletter - The Love Chronicle: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/thelovechronicle/
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/3159922.Afton_Locke
Café au Lait Book Club: https://www.facebook.com/groups/cafeaulaitbookclub/