Cerise DeLand's Blog, page 59

Favorite things: How do workaholics relax?

A way to relax? Enjoy looks of Italian Olympic team
of water polo players. Si, preggo, pronto!
For workaholics like authors, relaxing is a challenge! If it is for you too, want some insights in what your fave authors do to get peace of mind and body? What are mine? I walk 3x a week.  I swim 6 laps every other day. I do yoga often and at the end of each day? I cook, baby! I cutthings. I whack them. I sauté and braise them. I wrestle with them sometimes. All while sipping my favorite wine for the evening!Here are a few of my favorite buddies’ methods. And yes, all are members of the Sassy Seven! http://www.sassyseven.comFirst up, friend Brenna Zinn ( http://www.brennazinn.com) declares, “Relaxing is hard for me.  I have a strong, relentless drive to constantly do something, be productive in some way or think about what has to be done.  I often wake up at 2 a.m. with my mind wide awake and ready to start the day.  My body might disagree, but my mind rules supreme.  “Because of this, my kind of relaxation is more cerebral.  When I can shut off my head, forget the world around me, and just be in the moment is the time I'm most relaxed. Usually, when I ride my bike or practice yoga, I can achieve relaxation.“Playing poker, especially in Vegas, gets me there too.  Even if I'm losing.  But topping my list is when I'm hanging around my girlfriends, laughing, and maybe having a few drinks.  Those relaxing moments are truly cherished.”Sassy 7 buddy, Nicole Austin ( http://www.nicoleaustin.com) says, “Number One on my list? Go to the gym. Yes, I can hear the groans already but it’s true. The gym is the one place where I can let my very active mind relax. I pop in my headphones, turn on my iTunes dance mix and drift away. When I skip going to the gym I have no energy and sleep issues so it’s an absolute must for me!“Second fave?  My new favorite relaxation is going for a massage. Ahhhh, now that’s the ticket. I go once a month—sometimes two—close my eyes and let hot young men with strong hands rub the knots out of my shoulders, neck, arms, back and legs. I always walk out of there feeling like an overcooked noodle. So good!I love stories where the hero and heroine are total opposites, they just clash, but all that intense clashing creates undeniable passion. A passion neither can ignore for long. Where there's smoke.”Oh, AMEN, Nic!And let’s hear from non-stop Desiree Holt! (http://www.desireeholt.com) Does she relax? Ever?“I love to relax on my new back porch with my e-reader and a sippy cup of whipped cream vodka. By the time I finish both I'm relaxed as hell.  In the fall I love to relax with football, although some people would say it makes me manic! But that's where the vodka comes in.”Now, what are your favorite chillaxin’ ways?Tell us! And to one who comments, I will give away one of mine of your choice!!!And do Get Naughty with all 7 of us Sassy ones at our NAUGHTY SLEEPOVER in February. ( http://www.sassyseven.com )

Oldies but Goodies: OUT OF CONTROL by my pal, Desiree Holt!

Des and I are launching our bi-monthly bit we call OLDIES BUT GOODIES . Yep. We're pimping out the books you may have missed!OUT OF CONTROL is one of my very favorites of hers. Why?A hot and believable romance has got to have a solid background. This one is not only an accurate view of the Hill Country of Texas (Des's and my home territory) but also a bang up job of characterization of a serial killer's only surviving attemtped victim. Yes, this woman is damaged but has rehabilitated herself enough so that we can see the trauma and the recovery.A must read! Here you go: Twenty five years ago Carrie Nolan was the only victim to survive the killing spree of a pedophile. Her life has been frozen in time, and not even a move to a distant city or a name change has healed the wounds that left her emotionally and sexually scarred. Determined finally to reclaim her life, Carrie returns to High Ridge as multi-published crime novelist, Dana Moretti, in hope of asking the questions that would lay her nightmares to rest. Sheriff Cole Landry, came to High Ridge to escape the horrors of Iraq and Afghanistan, but soon after the sexy author arrives and starts poking her nose into matters best forgotten, his town once again becomes the hunting ground of a ruthless killer. She's sure it's the same man, and he's not all that convinced she's wrong. Keeping Dana safe means keeping her close—very close—under his protection, under him. Between her sexual need for Cole and the danger lurking behind every stranger's face, her world is spinning out of control.
“Can I help you?”The deep voice that spoke to her sent shock waves through her. She whirled, her knees shaking. Oh, hell. It was him. The man in the truck. Wearing a uniform, for god’s sake. “I have to say,” he went on, “you look a lot better when you aren’t soaked through by the rain.” Dana’s legs were shaking, keeping time with the butterflies doing the rumba in her stomach. The first thing she thought was cowboy. He had the easy, relaxed yet alert stance she’d seen on men around horses and cattle. And his feet were shod in square-toed Western boots. She was sure his hat would be a Stetson.But the way his eyes assessed her, the analytical gaze…military. Some kind of covert ops. A dangerous combination in a man.Dangerous to women. And to people who were misled by his friendly smile.He was somewhere in his mid-thirties. At least six-four, broad shouldered, and lean hipped, the khaki of the sheriff’s uniform looking as if it were custom tailored for him. His face was all angles and planes, with deep-set, whiskey-colored eyes framed by dark brows and lashes. Even in her state of high anxiety, she couldn’t miss the sexuality that radiated from him. The ultimate alpha male. And trouble. I’ll bet he has to beat the women off with a nightstick. Well, for sure he won’t have to worry about me. Oh, wait. After last night, he probably thinks I’m a nutcase anyway.She wet her lips. “I gave my card to your…to the woman at the window. I’m Dana Moretti.”“I know who you are.” His smile, like John Garrett’s, was professional and didn’t reach his eyes. “I’ve been expecting you. Come on.” He swung the door wide, the muscles in his tanned arms flexing with the movement. “If you’d identified yourself last night,” she told him, trying to keep the acid out of her voice, “I might have been more willing to accept a ride. I don’t make it a habit of jumping into trucks with strange men.”His body brushed hers as he let the door swing shut, and lightning shot through her. What the hell? She knew what unexpected lust was. She often wrote about it, but it wasn’t a feeling familiar to her personally. Certainly not in a situation like this. Maybe this was a bad idea, after all.“So, what kind of men do you jump in trucks with?”
www.desireeholt.comwww.desireeholttellsall.comTwitter: @desireeholtFacebook: /desireeholtAnd now an App for all Apple device

Oldies but Goodies? Desiree Holt and I do them on 1st and 15th!

Have a list of authors whose works you adore? Whose words speak to you over and over again? Ones that give you that warm fuzzy—or scorching erotic feel you love?
My buddy Desiree Holt does that for me, every time, big time.
She and I begin a new series on each of our blogs starting tomorrow, wherein we give you a hot jolt of goodness as a blast from the past!
Join us on the 1st and 15th of each month here on my blog and over on hers, too, for OLDIES BUT GOODIES, aka Books you may have missed that you certainly do not want to!
See http://desireeholttellsall.com

Strong Female Characters? Michelle Birbeck gives the scoop!

Michelle's site: www.michellebirbeck.co.uk
I saw a Q&A by Joss Wheadon that’s been going around tumblr for a while, and it got me thinking about the subject in question.
The Q&A was: So, why do you write these strong female characters? A: Because you’re still asking me that question.
Well, this inspired my own question, which is this: How can people NOT write strong female characters?
I can’t do it. No matter how hard I try, I really struggle to write weak ass, whiney women who do nothing but snivel and wait for a man to come rescue her.
Screw that.
Now, don’t get me wrong, I like the idea of being rescued on occasion by a big strong man, with lots of muscles, dressed in leather, carrying weapons… sorry, I’m getting off track there. But I don’t need a man to come rescue me. And neither do my characters.
When I was writing The Last Keeper, it never occurred to me at any point to write anything but strong female characters. I wanted them to have weaknesses, but those weaknesses weren’t what defined them.
Serenity, Poppy, and Helen are three of my favourite examples of what I think are strong female characters.
Serenity has lived through hell. She saw the destruction of her entire race, held her brother and sister as they died. For over half of her three thousand years of life she’s had to watch as her race was hunted down and slaughtered.
Then she meets Ray, and everything looks up. She’s got her man, the one person in the world meant for her. But loving him doesn’t make her weak. Being at her happiest when she’s with him doesn’t mean she’s incapable of being happy on her own.
And when she loses him and breaks down, that doesn’t make her weak, either. Most of us would break down when we lose a loved one. It’s the getting up and carrying on, going on with her duties as last of her race, and being there for her family when she feels like hell, that makes her strong. It’s the fact that despite everything she’s been through, she still has it in her to get up, go out, do the things she has to, and plaster a smile across her face. Even though that smile is a fake one.
Then there’s Poppy. Most feared female vampire in the world. She gave the vampire’s ruling body, The Seats, everything they ever wanted. A sadistic way to hunt down disobedient underlings, one that they took great delight in for centuries. She fought her way to the top of her male dominated world, and made them worship her.
But then she gave up everything she had to be with the man she loved. Not because he asked her to, but because she wanted to. And let me tell you, when Serenity says Poppy is the only one who ever left The Seats willingly, she means it. No one leaves The Seats. Not unless it’s feet first. No one even gains a place among The Seats without years of servitude and fighting. But Poppy did. She forced them to give her a place, and she fought her way out of it in search of a better life. To me, that makes her one of the strongest characters I’ve written, purely because she had to fight so hard for everything she wanted.
But perhaps Helen is the strongest of all my female characters in The Last Keeper. She lost her partner, her parents. She watched Serenity fall apart at every loss over the years. She stood tall through everything and gave her all to keep those she loved safe. Yet where Poppy and Serenity are immortals in the book, Helen is basically human. She has no extra powers, no ability to heal herself, and isn’t immortal. Yet if she has to kick Serenity’s backside from here to the other side of the world, then she’d do it. Despite everything she knows, the loses she’s felt, she puts everyone else first, stands tall in the face danger, and doesn’t let anything stand in her way.  
So in all honesty, I don’t understand writing weak female characters who just want a man to come provide for them and take care of them. We all have moments of weakness; we wouldn’t be human if we didn’t. But those weaknesses shouldn’t be what define us, and they shouldn’t be what define our characters, either.
I did try writing a female character once who wasn’t strong—she certainly wasn’t weak, either—but I got about half way through the first chapter before I threw the whole thing out and started again. At this point I don’t ever seen me writing any characters who aren’t capable of standing on their own two feet and giving everything they have for what they want and what they believe in.
About Me:  Michelle is 29 and has been reading and writing her whole life. Her earliest memory of books was when she was five and decided to try and teach her fish how to read by putting her Beatrix Potter books in the fish tank with them.Since then her love of books has grown, and now she is writing her own and looking forward to seeing them on her shelves, though they won’t be going anywhere near the fish tank.When she’s not writing, she’s out and about on her motorbike or sitting with her head in a book.
You can find out more about Michelle and her books on her website: www.michellebirbeck.co.uk

Naughty Sleepover for readers of erotica!

A convention with BDSM demo, sex toy demo and male strippers?Really?Yes! Here's one you won't EVER FORGET!The Sassy Seven's Naughty Sleepover in February in San Antonio at The Menger Hotel.And for ladies who want to have a great weekend, laughing and learning about stuff that perhaps you've not known too much about before, this is your weekend. In a safe environment. Controlled. Only with other women.Women who read erotica.Women who write it.Women who enjoy getting away from their significant others and maybe taking home a bit of knowledge to spice up their love life.And if that cake needs icing, we have all of this:
GIVEAWAYS of books and bling.A great little city that you can safely walk in. A hotel, historic and comfortable, as well as affordable.The Alamo across the street, just in case you need a shot of history with your strippers, BDSM demo, line dancing, fun games and Tex-Mex dining. A conference fee that includes 4 meals and one Chocolate Extravaganza.Authors to schmooze with.Editors to pitch your story idea to!Sassy Seven babes who are giving away tee shirts, books, bling of their own!Raffle baskets.(Yes, you will need another suitcase cuz your carry-on will NOT hold all this!)And love.So what are you waiting for?Got to http://sassyseven.com 

Thrills, chills and smokin' hot lovin' FATAL SUBMISSION out now by Nicole Austin!

 http://www.jasminejade.com/p-10289-fatal-submission.aspx Yeah, you know you want it all!New erotica horror by my pal, Nicole Austin, Fatal Submission!
Claire Hanson is a submissive in need of a Dom. Finding one in rural Illinois in 1981 is no easy feat but her requirements are simple. Forget complicated limit lists, take charge and give her lots of hot, sweaty sex. On edge, body humming with arousal, Claire aches to have her desires sated. And ruggedly handsome Dominant Mason Burke is the man she wants. But for Mason work comes first and Claire’s tired of waiting.
Mason’s loss is Dr. Carl Skinner’s lucky break. The bonus—Carl’s a rich, drop-dead gorgeous Dom with a real dungeon in his basement. Getting what you want isn’t always a good thing and the game takes a drastic turn Claire never saw coming. According to the Dungeon Master’s victims who still haunt his torture chamber, submission has fatal consequences and she’s running out of time.
Reader Advisory: This scary tale contains graphic scenes of erotic torture and violence that may cause the reader to stay up late reading with all the lights on.


An Excerpt From: FATAL SUBMISSIONCopyright © NICOLE AUSTIN, 2012All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.Claire ran a brush through her hair, grabbed the checklist and walked the few blocks. A cheery bell tinkled as she opened the door to find the ice cream parlor empty. She picked a table facing the glass shop front and waited.Did Mason do this to her on purpose? She always seemed to be waiting on him. She understood his business was relatively new and required long hours. Still, constantly waiting grew old fast.When his Bronco pulled up outside she glanced at her watch. Fifteen minutes late. He strolled toward her table, calm and in control.“Hello, Claire.” No apology. Mason simply nodded toward the refrigerated cases. “Did you pick a flavor?”“Not yet.” Hearing the irritation in her voice, she made an effort to lighten her tone. “I was waiting for you.”He held out a hand to help her up and didn’t let go as they perused the offerings. Once they each had a cone they sat on a bench outside. Mason looked over the checklist without comment then locked it in his car.“It’s a nice day. How about a walk?”She nodded and they took a leisurely stroll, stopping every so often to window shop. As usual, Mason was in no hurry, their conversation casual.“Why did you become a property appraiser? What drew you to the business?”“I used to be a real estate agent, which was an okay job but I’m not a good salesperson. I do like buildings though, especially older ones.” She thought back on her childhood daydreams, how she’d stand outside a building and try to picture the interior layout.“My friend works in a bank and complained about the excessive wait for appraisals because no one in our area did them so I checked into it.” She licked her ice cream for a moment as she remembered how everything had just clicked. “Turned out it suited me. I get to make my own hours, meet new people, use my math skills and indulge my curiosity.”Mason nodded as if he read more into her explanation than she’d said. “And how did you discover you were a submissive?”She didn’t even attempt to hold back a wicked grin. “Guy I was dating got invited to a munch and took me. The more I learned about BDSM the more interested I became. At first he was into it, thought it was fun. After a while he lost interest but I didn’t.” She shrugged. “We broke up and I continued to explore. Like the job, it suited me.”Yes, there was a great deal more to it but same as with her job, getting into BDSM she’d felt the pieces click into place.“So you’ve always been happiest when seeing to the needs of others. A true, natural submissive.”Claire stopped in her tracks and stared at Mason for a long moment. How the hell did he do it? A bit of general small talk and he saw deeper into her heart than lifelong friends ever had. Deeper than even she had seen.“You adapt, changing yourself to please those you love.”He dropped that bomb so casually, as if making a general observation but getting right to the heart of the matter. And it made sense. It put several pieces of her life together. Made her take a second look at the big decisions and changes. Each and every one had been sparked by the needs of others.At heart she was a nurturer, a caretaker. When someone she cared about needed something, Claire did whatever she could to fill the need. She’d done so her entire life and never made the connection.“When’s the last time you did something because it pleased you?”Good question. Racking her brain, she came up blank. She couldn’t think of one instance where something she’d done had been just for her. As she thought, Mason’s ice cream melted, a slow-moving river of chocolate rolling over his fingers.Her first instinct was to reach out with her napkin and wipe the chocolate away for him. But what did she want? What would please her?She’d love to taste both the ice cream and Mason.Claire took a step closer, held his wrist with her free hand and acted without overthinking it. She moved even closer, stuck out her tongue and watched his expression from beneath her lashes as she slowly licked the chocolate from his hand.Mason’s intense, ice-blue eyes heated, filling with lust. When she reached the top of his hand, she swirled her tongue around the ice cream, imagining it was his cock. She circled the scoop of chocolate, humming in appreciation of the flavor. His entire body tensed and she knew he pictured the same thing she did.Glancing down, she noted the hard length of his erection outlined by the faded denim extending from his groin all the way across his right hip. Long and thick and hard.Meeting his gaze, she blurted out what was on her mind. “It would please me to taste you, Mason. To drop to my knees, wrap my fist around your shaft and suck your cock to the back of my throat.”He closed his eyes and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard then took several slow, measured breaths.A naughty grin tugged at the corners of her lips as she watched him struggle to regain his composure. That little crack in his hard veneer gave her wicked ideas. She wondered how much teasing it would take to push Mason over the edge and out of control. Finding out would be fun.

"Writing is outstanding...characters stole my heart!:" 5 Roses for my ROPE ME IN!

Review: Rope Me In by Cerise DeLand BDSM, erotica, menage, Michelle, review, Rose that Rules AllAug132012 
Rope Me In by Cerise DeLand
Series: Knights in Black Leather (# 1)
Release Date: May 18, 2012
Publisher:  Ellora’s Cave
Pages: 139
Source:  Publisher

In Bravado, Texas, the men are good and plenty…and lonely.  Not inclined to remain horny bachelors, the three MacRae brothers devise a plan to find one fine woman and get the good lovin’ they deserve. One gander at the new gal in town, charming Cara Ford, and the cowboys decide to do some old-fashioned courting. Then they’ll offer her a thoroughly modern deal—all three of them, just for luscious, lovely her.Cara has returned to Bravado to rebuild her life after cutting the cord to her self-centered husband. One man was a pain. Why would she want to tie herself to three ranchers known for their wildcattin’, no matter how sexy?  Undeterred, Jed, Harry and Will rope her into their daily lives, sweet-talk her into sharing their torrid nights, and set out to convince her that three hard-lovin’ men in bed is better than one.

Review:  Rope Me In by Cerise DeLand is a hot erotic romance about three sexy cowboy brothers who have been searching for the perfect woman. Cara Ford grew up in Bravado, Texas following the MacRae brothers around with a huge school girl crush on them. When she was fifteen her family’s home burned down and they moved away. Now, years later, she is a grown woman recovering from a bad marriage. She has moved back to Bravado to go into business with her aunt. The MacRae brothers are still single and she has seen each of them around town. Rumors have her curious about the brothers, and then a package mix-up gives her the perfect opportunity to go visit the ranch and maybe find out if the rumors are true. I very highly recommend this book and give it a rating of 5 out of 5! The writing is outstanding and the characters stole my heart. I couldn’t pick a favorite of the three MacRae brothers because I think I’m in love with all of them. I really liked Cara and was rooting for her the whole way. She’s strong and independent, but she’s not perfect. She’s flawed like the rest of us. The character development is great and we get to know each of the brothers. They are alike in some ways and yet each one is their own person with different personalities. Cara is still wounded from her marriage and she still struggles with issues from that. Not only are they getting to know each other, but Cara is learning things about herself as well.
I was completely hooked from the very start and couldn’t stand to put it down for even a minute. The heat level is extremely high, but there’s more to the story than just erotica. There’s family drama, small town drama, and romance. It’s a bit mysterious as we get to know each brother and anticipate how things are going to turn out. I thoroughly enjoyed this book from start to finish. At about 139 pages it’s a nice length because it’s long enough to give the reader a chance to really get to know the characters and their story, but without having to get into an overly long novel. I have been wanting to read Ms DeLand’s books for a while, but this is the first one I have had a chance to read. I am definitely a new fan.
*****
THANK YOU SO MUCH to Romancing the Book for this lovely review. Soooo tickled your reviewer, Michelle, loved it! :  http://romancing- the-book. com/2012/ 08/review- rope-me-in- by-cerise- deland.html

Yummy York! PUSHING HER BUTTONS by SABRINA YORK!

I am so excited about my new release, Pushing her Buttons , which comes out on August 22nd, but is now available for preorder on Amazon and Barnes & Noble. This novella was the first place winner of the Celtic Hearts Novellas Need Love Too contest and named the 2011 Distinguished Novella of the year and tells the story of a woman battling between her desire for a dark dominant man and her fears of being consumed by those desires. If you like super hot sex, domination and kinky play, this one’s for you!Pushing Her Buttons by Sabrina York Now available for preorder onAmazon and Barnes & NobleEvery single day, he’s there. Waiting. Watching her. Closed in with her for a hundred stories as they ride the elevator to their floor. And every single day, for a hundred floors, Samantha simmers with banked lust. She wants him—her mysterious neighbor who seems to get off on tempting her. Whose eyes promise the kind of kinky domination she’s too afraid to give in to. And then just when she thinks she’s safe, just when she’s convinced she can resist his allure, he steps up his relentless pursuit. The passion that flares between them burns so hot and so bright it could consume them both. But that’s just on the way up. Who knows what will happen when they’re going down.Reader Advisory: Samantha’s sexy neighbor tries to drive her wild with lust, and he’ll stop at nothing to succeed. Spanking? Of course. Leather straps? You bet. Girl-on-girl action? Oh yeah. Wear your flame-retardant panties while reading this one. An Excerpt From: PUSHING HER BUTTONSCopyright © SABRINA YORK, 2012All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.
Chapter OneWednesday
I almost got off the elevator when he stepped on, that slick sophisticated creature oozing with masculinity, the man who haunted my dreams. He could turn me into a bundle of jangled, weeping nerves with a look.So I didn’t look.This took some effort.I wanted to, was drawn to the energy, the intensity, the heat rolling off him in waves. Instead I diligently studied the sleek chrome of the elevator doors as they slid silently shut.We were alone, together, in a box. Again. For a hundred floors.“Going up?” His voice was a slithering snake, raspy, undulating and smooth.I nodded. A short, curt dip of my head.From the corner of my eye, I watched as he pressed the button for our floor. His thumb was long and blunt. He did it slowly, caressing the face. As though making a promise.And all the while, he stared at me. Tracking my every reaction. Taking in the rise of my breast, the quick dash of my tongue on suddenly dry lips, the quiver of a lash.This unrelenting attention made my skin prickle, my nipples swell.I riffled in my purse for a stick of gum. There was no gum but I riffled anyway.Honestly. How long could an elevator ride last? I focused on the lights of the header, ignoring his presence. Desperately trying to, at least, as his searing gaze lingered and stroked.I was managing quite well, thank you very much.Until he did it.He made a noise I couldn’t ignore. It was something feral, between a grunt and a moan. A sound a lion might make, unconsciously, distractedly, upon sighting a particularly juicy gazelle. Or a female in heat.I was not a female in heat.More than one man had commented on my frigidity. The idiots. My coolness was merely a reflection of their ineptitude.This man was probably not inept. A frightening truth for someone like me.The sound, the growl, the urgent hungry groan, washed through me in a vibrating bass.I punched the button for our floor several times in succession. It was a tell and I knew it, but I couldn’t help myself. Panic rose in my throat as the heat he sent off swirled around me, sank in and settled in my belly.His interest in me had never been a secret. He’d tried flirting and sweet talk, he’d asked me out more than once but I always shot him down. I knew what kind of man he was. He had that vibe, that look, that alluring menace.I knew what he was, for God’s sake. I could smell it, feel it, taste it. I’d been there before and sworn I’d never go there again.Any woman with a pulse would think him attractive, what with that sable hair flopping onto his forehead, that square dented chin, that boyish insouciance belied by a satyr’s smirk. And, ah. Those deep-brown eyes ringed with sinful sooty lashes. Those exquisitely molded lips. That hard athlete’s physique.But not every woman would notice the simmering passion, the sultry sadism that called to a woman like me. Telegraphed in secret code. Tapping. Tapping on my nerves.I did not want a man like that. Not anymore. A man like that would eat me alive.Against my will, I caught a glimpse of his chiseled reflection in the chrome. He’d opened his suit jacket and tucked his fingers into the front pockets of his slacks. He leaned like a lazy panther against the mirrored wall and tipped his head back, studying the ceiling. His long legs were crossed at the ankles, showcasing immaculate Ferragamos gleaming with a high gloss. A crooked grin tugged at his luscious lips.Mercy. Those lips.Heat sizzled through me as I imagined those lips on me, sucking, nuzzling, nipping.But that would never happen. He was not my type and I was not his. I wasn’t.I told myself to look away but I didn’t do it quickly enough.He straightened as we neared our floor. Adjusted his jacket. Shook out his pants. Raked his thick dark curls…And caught my gaze in the mirror. Caught me staring hungrily.Horrified by this wash of vulnerability, I turned my head. Our eyes locked again but this time directly, intimately, across the car. Tangled, tied.His body stiffened, nostrils flared, pupils dilated. He leaned slightly, almost imperceptibly, toward me. His scent, his aura intensified. He held me immobile by the sheer power of his intent.And then he licked his lips.Something within me liquefied. My knees went weak and I nearly dropped my briefcase. Who knows what would have happed, what could have happened, if the elevator hadn’t opened at just that moment?The welcome ding snapped me out of this lazy, hazy daze. I clutched my briefcase to my chest and rushed through the doors almost before they were open, doing a determined power walk to my penthouse.He followed, slowly stalking. I didn’t hesitate. I waved my keycard over the lock and slipped inside. To safety.I tried not to look back. Really. I did. It was only a quick glance but the sight of him standing next to his double-doored entrance, pinning me with a heavy-lidded gaze, rocketed through me like a fist to my solar plexus. There was heat in his eyes. And hunger. And certainty.I shut the door, shutting him out. Shutting it out. He wasn’t my type. I wasn’t his.A man like that could destroy the woma

Remedies for Writer's Block! Kate Hill's got 'em!

Some days I feel like I can accomplish just about anything. I have a steady flow of ideas and I can write for hours. Other days it’s hard to complete a single sentence. Since consistency is a main ingredient in finishing a story, those days when I don’t feel like writing are frustrating to say the least.
Everyone has their own way of getting through those low periods and I thought I’d share mine and ask what others do when they’re in the same situation.
If I have a day when it’s actual writer’s block that’s stopping me from working, I’ve found that putting aside my current story and writing something else helps. If I write whatever catches my interest at the moment, it gets my creative juices flowing.
Sometimes the ideas are there, but I have something else on my mind or I’m just feeling down. When that happens I tend to get lazy and would rather hang around than get work done. One thing that almost always gets me out of that state of mind is exercise. For me daily exercise makes me feel energized but also relaxed and helps me focus on work. Sometimes a little extra exercise, even for a short time, is all I need to lift my spirits so I can get back to work.
There are times when the desire to work isn’t the problem, but I’m stuck at a certain plot point. I can write, rewrite and turn over dozens of ideas, but nothing seems to work. In that situation, I try to find something that relaxes me. On thing that almost never fails to clear up any problem I’m having with a scene is to take a warm shower. It might sound crazy, but it seems like as soon as I’m in the shower, ideas start flowing. The biggest problem is trying to write down all the scenes in my head while I’m dripping wet.
What are some of your favorite ways to relax and get focused? Do any specific activities help stimulate your creativity?
About Kate  Kate Hill is a vegetarian New Englander who loves writing romantic fantasies. When she's not working on her books, Kate enjoys reading, working out, and researching vampires and Viking history.  You can visit her online at http://www.kate-hill.com
Coming in August 2012
Alaskan Flameby Kate HillFrom Changeling Presshttp://changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1893
Blurb:The son of a sex demon and a fallen angel, Oliver struggles to keep his libido under control while on duty as a shadowing angel in the wilderness of Alaska. He needs help and it arrives in the form of a sexy, no-nonsense former demon.
Henrie, a shadowing angel with experience, is the perfect woman to assist a man desperate to regain his self-control. What she discovers is he actually needs to cut loose, especially on the evil forces that are secretly plotting to destroy him.


The following excerpt from ALASKAN FLAME is for readers 18 and over.
Henrie awoke with an uneasy feeling. Her muscles tightened and she sat up quickly.
Oliver stood near the dresser, searching through her open travel bag.
He held up a red lace bra and sniffed it. "Interesting."
"What the hell are you doing?" she demanded, springing out of bed, not caring that she might as well have been naked. Her snug T-shirt, the material so thin it was see-through, and tiny boy shorts offered little coverage.
His smoldering gaze swept her. "I didn't think you'd mind if I looked through your things--not after you helped yourself to mine."
If she hadn't been so furious, she'd have been taken aback.
He tossed the bra aside and continued his search. He pulled out specially made handcuffs that were strong enough to restrain most demons.
He smiled. "Are these for business or pleasure?"
"None of your damn business."
He tugged her red and black flogger out of the bag. "Even more interesting."
"Get your claws off my stuff!" Henrie picked up the bra and several other items he'd carelessly discarded and shoved them back into the bag. She grasped the flogger and tried to take it from him, but he refused to let it go. Glaring at him, she said, "Drop it. You have no business looking in my bag."
"But you can search my closet and that's no problem?"
"What makes you think--"
"Give me some credit." He scoffed.
"That's not the point. Give me my flogger."
"Maybe you'd prefer a spanking." His eyes glistened and he pulled the flogger away and wrapped the leather tails around his fist.
"I don't take 'em. I give 'em. And if you don't return my property, I will whip your ass."
His smile broadened. "Promise?"
"If you're in the mood for games, maybe your issues out here aren't so big after all. If Rutendo finds out you bothered him and me because you're just a lonely little boy, he won't be too happy."
"Oh please." He raised his eyes to heaven. "You're actually threatening to tell daddy."
Despite his bravado he tossed the flogger to her.
She caught it, stepped closer and placed the handle under his chin. Curling her lip, she said, "We both know Rutendo isn't your daddy. How about telling me the name of the angel who is?"
The rage in his eyes nearly took her aback, but she stood her ground, waiting for him to answer.
"My parentage is none of your business."
"Since it's the only thing Rutendo told me about you, I'd say it's important to my assignment here. That makes it my business."
"Apparently Rutendo has already told you everything you need to know."
"You act like a child and I'm not the maternal type. If you do one more thing to piss me off, I'm out of here, got it?"
"Go on then. I asked Rutendo for help, not hindrance."
"Hind. . .whether I leave or not I'm going to have to kick your ass."
Maybe it was too many months of being good, but she hadn't felt this kind of passion in. . .
Too long.
By his scent and the look in his eyes, he was just as aroused. Or annoyed. Or an intriguing combination of both.
Watch it. He's half sex demon.
And she'd dealt with many of his kind before. After all, hadn't Rutendo said Oliver could benefit from her brand of discipline?
"Kiss my ass?" he said with feigned innocence.
"Kickyour ass!"
Leaning so close that the tip of his nose touched hers, he said, "Either one sounds fun."
That was all Henrie could take. Grasping her flogger, she shifted to her winged form and shoved Oliver so hard in the chest that he stepped back, hit the bed and flopped onto his back.
She raised the flogger and as it fell, he grasped it, the tendrils wrapping around his arm. At that moment he shifted to his winged form and tugged her on top of him. In a blink he pinned her beneath him on the bed. He was lean but rock-hard and his body as hot as the flames of hell.
Both furious and aroused, Henri snapped her sharp teeth at his throat--more a warning than a bite intended to do real harm. He jerked back before her fangs actually reached his flesh.
"Was that a love bite, Henrie?" he purred, his blue eyes blazing.
"Who could love you?"
"Okay, who cares about love. How about a fuck?"
She was tempted to say yes.
"You want it. I can smell it." He dipped his head toward her breasts and inhaled. Then he held her gaze again. "I can see it. Like I said before. You're full of hellfire. We might be shadowing angels, but some things can't ever be driven out of us no matter how hard we try."
"You're right," she said, her voice just above a whisper.
His lashes lowered over his eyes and he dipped his head toward hers. Just before he kissed her, she shifted her weight and managed to push him off her.
She stood, avoiding his grasp.
"This isn't right," she said, her heart pounding. She paced the room, glancing at the half naked hunk sprawled across her bed. He raised himself on his elbows, the motion tightening the muscles in his sleek stomach. His long legs parted and the muscles in his thighs, not to mention his bulging crotch, strained against his black trousers. His long fingers rested over the flogger and his intense blue eyes followed her every motion.
"Just because it isn't right doesn't necessarily make it wrong," he said.
"Oh that's just great. A little demonic philosophy."
"I'm not a demon anymore."
"Neither am I," she said fiercely, because at the moment she felt more demonic than she had in years.
"Denial is an ugly thing, isn't it?"
"From what I found in your closet, I'm guessing you don't abstain much."
He grinned and rose swiftly, pointing at her with a long finger. "So you did search my stuff."
"Okay I apologize. Rutendo didn't tell me much about you so I needed to find out."
"You could have asked."
"And given you the chance to lie?"
"Are you always this much of a skeptic?"
"Show me a shadowing angel who isn't."
He shrugged. "You've got me there. Is that men's cologne you're wearing?"
"Yeah, why?" She liked wearing men's fragrance. It made her feel sexy. Powerful.
His eyes gleamed with lust and he wrapped an arm around her waist. "Come here." His mouth descended on hers.
Henrie had seen the kiss coming. She could have rejected him again. Something told her he wouldn't push the issue. However she wanted him every bit as much as he wanted her. She parted her lips and her tongue met his thrust for thrust. Closing her eyes, she moaned softly and trailed her long, sharp nails up his back, knowing that she left marks.
Was this sin? No, there were far worse things than a pair of shadowing angels letting off proverbial steam.
He broke the kiss and stepped back just enough to hold the flogger between them. "Are you really any good with this?"
Her hand closed over his around the handle. Their gazes locked and she leaned nearer to speak against his lips. "You have no idea."
Moistening his lips with the tip of his enticing pink tongue, he unzipped his trousers and quickly removed them. He headed for the door and beckoned her with his finger. "This way. Don't forget the cuffs." 

The Other End of the Bookshelf? A man who writes erotic romance, Tim Smith tells us where that is!

I’m a man who writes straight contemporary erotic romance.
Now that we have that out of the way and if you’re still reading, allow me to present my credentials. I’ve been a published author for ten years. I have nine books out and two more slated for release later this year. One of my books is a bestseller and I’ve won several literary awards. I’ve done personal appearances from Chicago to New York to Key West, and many points in between. I blog two or three times a month and usually get good responses. My books have consistently received above-average reviews.
http://www.amazon.com/Lido-Key-Vic-Fallon-ebook/dp/B0081NXWLC/ref=sr_1_2?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1336682390&sr=1-2So why am I still a virtual unknown in the romance world? Read the first sentence again.
I grew an armadillo’s hide a long time ago because I’ve spent many years working in a field populated mostly by women and I’m accustomed to being one of the only men in the office. Gender-specific remarks and jokes don’t bother me but in the world of romance stories, there seems to be a bias in some circles, an unwritten rule that says “No guys allowed.”  
A couple of review sites told me flat out that they wouldn’t review a romance written by a man unless it was male/male. One publisher said the only way they would consider my submission was if I used a pseudonym so their readers wouldn’t think a man wrote it. At book festivals and RomCons I’ve been shunned by readers and bloggers, and one well-known author actually laughed in my face when I told her what I write. I’ve also been shot down on chat boards with the opinion “a man can’t write a believable romance.” I’d like to counter that one with the following review quotes, all for different books.   
“The sensual scenes are beautifully written and perfectly illustrate the evolving emotion and attraction between the characters.”
“Tim Smith has a great deal of talent for writing erotic scenes.”
“I enjoyed reading The Sweet Distraction as it gave me a new perspective of the male/female relationship from a guy’s viewpoint.”
“Anywhere the Heart Goes is a fun, enjoyable romp through the often confusing world of relationships. It artfully and humorously portrays the eternal struggle of men and women in their complicated dance of getting along.”
“This is a beautiful portrayal of an evolving romance between two individuals.”
Please don’t think I’m complaining, because I’m not. I’m truly grateful for the successes I’ve had and for being accepted by many readers and peers. A wise person once said “Don’t judge a book by its cover.” I suppose the point I’m trying to make is “Don’t judge an author by their gender.” You might miss out on something pretty good.
Bio:  Tim Smith is an award-winning, bestselling author and a freelance photographer. His latest release is the romantic mystery Lido Key from eXtasy Books. More information about his books can be found at his website, www.timsmithauthor.com.