R. Lee Smith's Blog, page 33

Sunday Sneak Peek 6/23

Sneak Peek Sunday is a weekly blog hop in which writers are challenged to post six paragraphs, no more and no less, from a published work or work in progress and then invite other writers, readers and random bloggers to read, critique and comment. Visit their site by clicking on the button below for a list of other participating writers and share the love!

Welcome to Sneak Peek Sunday! As I will be away this weekend and as usual, left my packing until the last minute, I have no time to go through all my books to find a fascinating new scene to show you, so I’m just going to give you the next six paragraphs (and a bit)  from The Last Hour of Gann, continuing the scene precisely where Hump Day Hook left off. So feel free to back up and check that out first. Tomorrow’s WeWriWa will be the eight sentences immediately following the end of this scene, so if you’re curious how it goes on, be sure to come back and check it out. Also be sure to leave a comment and tell me you want to enter one of my drawings…if you want to enter one of my drawings, I guess. If you don’t, that would be a pretty silly thing to do.

* * * * *

Rain fell into his open eyes. He could not blink. The boy’s face loomed over him, colorless, indistinct. Was he dead? He couldn’t move, not even when the boy shoved him over on his side. He could feel tugging, prodding—the boy, searching for treasure—and the final kick of frustration when he found none.

Stormlight flickered through the grey in a constant sheet. Meoraq could see the boy’s boots circling to stand before him. He could see the black shape of his father’s knife sprawled in the mud before his snout. He could see each dimpled knot in the cord of Amber’s hair tied at his arm where it sprawled unfelt over him. He saw these things, only these things, and he thought that must be important.

More silence. It had become heavy, a weight on his ears. He could not hear his pulse anymore, but he thought he could still feel it, in his fingers of all places. The grey was fading slowly to black. His chest hurt.

“That was so much easier than I have been led to believe,” the boy remarked. Even his voice was grey.

Meoraq’s head was lifted, the belt loosened and then yanked away. He heard it go, felt it striping his throat with pain as scales caught in that cheap braid were torn loose.

The boy had killed him. That was bad enough, but he knew the boy would never burn him. He would never be wholly dead, never see the House of his true Father, never know the eternal peace that comes after. He must lie here and die forever. Would he feel it when he rotted? Would he feel it when the ghets came? Did they even have ghets in Yroq? He took a breath. He tried to cough and couldn’t. Dead men couldn’t cough.

His father’s voice, pained: Son, dead men don’t breathe, either.

…Truth.

Hot and Deadly Hop Begins

Last week, I participated in the Bad Boys Blog Hop, so some of you may already have heard my ramblings on the subject of sexy villains. Fortunately for you, I can always go darker. The fine folks at http://www.hdthomson.com want to know how we define deadly. ‘Is he deadly to the heroine’s peace of mind?’ they ask. ‘Deadly to her sense of security?’ To which I reply with hearty laughter, because there is only one way my hot-n-deadlies are deadly and I think we all know what it is.

So let me take your hand and lead you back in time. You’re sitting in the dark. Ahead of you, you see a hedge maze at night. You can hear the howling of wolves, here in your own safe garden. Your friend has run on ahead up the dark path; you can never catch more than a glimpse of her filmy nightdress—deep crimson, winding around her slender, pale body like blood. Do you know where we are yet?

We’re in a movie theater, watching Bram Stoker’s Dracula and it’s about to get good.

I was in my teens when this film came out and already a die-hard horror fanatic. I fell into this movie with happy abandon, losing myself immediately in that gothic world, but up until that moment, understand, it had been a monster movie. Vampires were not love interests yet. Dracula was Death.

And then Mina slipped around that last hedge and there was Lucy, crying out with what even my fourteen year-old ears knew was not pain as Dracula (engaged in a little cosplay as Beastman from the Masters of the Universe cartoon) moved against her. This was not the first sexual act I had seen on film before, nor the most graphic, but it was the most sexual. Then he raised his head and his face was awful, batlike and contorted and smeared with blood, and he ordered her not to see him and then he was gone and nothing was the same for me again.

From that moment on, I was aware of all the sex in horror movies, the sex that so often led irrevocably to death. I realized for the first time that the heroes were often frustrated, the victims were promiscuous, the virgins were vulnerable and the monsters were sexy. Yes, I mean it. Just don’t look at the face. Underneath the mask, the vast majority of monsters are ripped as hell, with bulging muscles and rocking abs. And generally speaking, the deadlier the monster, the uglier the mask and sexier the body. More and more, the sexuality of the monster is being emphasized rather than hidden, and I’m not talking about campy crap like Killer Condom or Poultrygeist, I mean real movies—Species, Slither, Splice. The age of the globulous blob and the giant irradiated insect is gone. We don’t want our monsters to eat us anymore. We want to be fucked to death.

But you don’t watch horror movies, you say? You don’t have to. Hot-n-deadly is everywhere. Twilight sold a billion books (and a billion shades of grey) precisely because the hero was a vampire; he had killed people, he could do it again and some part of him desperately wanted to. There’s no way that series would have been the juggernaut it is if the hero was instead some poor sap who wears body glitter and thinks the heroine smells nice. No. Only an implied history of barely-suppressed carnage makes that sexy. The X-Men franchise began with a whole cadre of superheroes that might as well have never existed except the Wolverine. Because he’s heroic? Charming? Courageous? No, because he can murder-stab his way through a city block and he does not apologize for it. He is the best at what he does and what he does ain’t pretty. My mother literally papered the walls of her sewing room with posters of Indiana Jones, who brought a gun to a swordfight, a spinning propeller to a fistfight, and a kid to a pit full of alligators. And don’t even get me started on James Bond. Any James Bond.

So what is the appeal? With very few exceptions, we wouldn’t want to meet any of these men in real life, much less cohabit with them. (Seriously. You know Wolverine drinks and taps that nasty cigar ash everywhere and he’s always ripping the hell out of his clothes.) Why do we fantasize about these men?

Personally, I think it’s for the same reason we fantasize about smacking them. In my writer’s workshop beta group, not one woman, not one, has ever slapped a man in the face for any reason, and yet we’ve all written a righteous manslap in at least one of our books (I’m not sure, but I may have one in all of mine). Why do we do it? Because deep in the unevolved part of our brains, violence = passion = sex. The more passionate the passion, the hotter the sex, so it follows that the hottest men have the highest body count. That’s my theory, anyway. Now excuse me while I go watch AvP in my room. In the dark. Don’t judge me.

Anyhoo, to celebrate the Hot and Deadly Hop, I thought I’d give away an ecopy of one of my books, winner’s choice, including The Last Hour of Gann, which should be available at the end of summer. If you want to enter, all you have to do is leave a comment on any post tagged “Hot and Deadly” (which is pretty much limited to this post and maybe one other) before the end of the hop on June 24th, making sure to tell me you want to enter and to leave a viable email address so I can contact the winner, who will be drawn on June 25th. Remember that because all my books contain graphic violence and strong sexual content, I cannot just assume that everyone who comments wants a book. Therefore, if you want to enter, YOU MUST SAY SO in the comment.

For more thoughts on the invisible tie between sexy and deadly, head on over to http://www.hdthomson.com for a list of authors participating in the Hot And Deadly Blog Hop or just click the link in the sidebar (third from the top). There are lots of talented authors of every genre and heat level, as well as prizes and giveaways, so check them out and share the love, and remember, it’s all fun until somebody gets hurt. Then it’s hot as hell.

Hump Day Hook 6/19

Hump Day Hook is a weekly blog hop where writers are invited to hook readers with just a few paragraphs from a work in progress or published work. Visit their site by clicking on the button below for a list of other participating writers and share the love!

 

I know I said last week that was going to be the last Hump Day Snippet I took from The Last Hour of Gann, but I lied. I lie a lot. That’s why I ended up a writer. If you’re good at something, never do it for free, as someone awesome once said. But okay, here is what very well could actually be the last snippet I take from The Last Hour of Gann. Or maybe not. We’ll see next Wednesday, won’t we? To set the scene, Amber has been abducted by a band of raiders and Meoraq is in pursuit, led by a boy who claims to know their camp. Of course, anyone who would know their camp is not entirely trustworthy…

* * * * *

The boy’s looped belt dropped over his head and before Meoraq’s eyes could identify the danger, it had cinched tight.

No air. A perfect choke. He had less than a minute to break it. Meoraq’s sabks were already in his hands and stabbing backwards, but the boy skimmed around them with the same ease as he’d navigated thorns and gullies all day. Abandoning that, he slashed at the belt, but the boy wore a braid and the cheap leather was thick and stiff. He hadn’t made a single good cut before the boy bashed the rock into his hand. Once. Twice. Then the other. Disarmed.

Through a haze of smothering grey, Meoraq heaved himself backwards, groping blindly for an arm, a throat, his tunic, anything. The boy leapt out of the way, heaving with him, and then Meoraq was on his back on the ground, staring at the world through shades of grey that shook with his own pulse. In his last seconds, he tried to pull the belt out of the boy’s grip, but he had no leverage and no strength. He could feel the scratching of his scales on the taut leather vibrating through his skull, but even that felt distant, unimportant. He could see his mouth opening and closing; the world beyond was smoke and shadow and the white open eye of death.

Then, silence.

First Giveaway Winner!

Congratulations to Misty Rios, who won my Bad Boys Giveaway Drawing!

If you didn’t win, but still want to, don’t despair! There are still two chances to win a free ecopy of one of my books, including the upcoming The Last Hour of Gann! Just keep commenting on any of my posts tagged with the Sizzling Summer Reads or Hot and Deadly tags and tell me you want to be entered. There will be another drawing on the 25th and the final drawing on July 1st! Good luck to everyone!

Bye-Bye to the Bad Boys

Sizzling Summer continues, but The Bad Boys of Romance Giveaway Blog Hop officially ends today. I had a lot of fun and I hope you all checked them out and found lots of new authors to take home. Today, I conclude the super-sized snippet I started on Saturday with an early Sneak Peek Sunday snippet and a…gosh, that’s a lot of alliterative ss’s…and a late Weekend Writer Warrior 8-Sentences. This is your last chance to leave a comment and enter my Bad Boys of Romance Giveaway for a chance to win an ecopy of one of my books (although there is still plenty of time to enter the Sizzling Summer Reads Giveaway and the Hot and Deadly Giveaway that will kick-off on June 20th!). Just be aware that because all my books contain graphic violence and strong sexual content, I cannot assume all who comment want to enter. YOU MUST TELL ME you wish to enter and leave a viable email address so I can contact you if you win. The Bad Boys of Romance drawing will be held tomorrow after I roll out of bed. The next drawing will be the Hot and Deadly Drawing on June 25th and the last one will be the Sizzling Summer Reads Drawing on July 1st. Good luck to all who enter! All those who don’t enter…well, good luck to you, I guess, on whatever you do when you don’t enter drawings.

“Will you let me?” she asked, letting her hand caress his face. It was a handsome face, she realized, for all that his eyes were so awful and empty. She kissed him again, and this time, his tongue came to meet hers. Her hand drifted down, across his chest, over his hard stomach, toward the stiffening core of him, but then away and down the inner slope of his thigh.

He chuckled into her mouth and pulled his face away. “You’re teasing me,” he said with gentle menace. “That can be dangerous.”

“Humans do that,” she said, licking at the hollow of his throat. “When they want to take their time.”

“Is that what you want? To take your time?” He twined his hand lazily in her hair, and then pulled her down into his kiss. It was a deep kiss, hungry and unskilled, but kindling real desire in her nonetheless. “To play with me?” he murmured, breathing into her mouth.

“Yes. Will you let me?” she asked again. She began to move her hips in small circles, just brushing against the front of his pants, light as a feather. The sensation was pure silver, tiny strokes of lightning arcing up through her, and she closed her eyes to enjoy it.

“I don’t know.” His hand came up and slipped beneath her skirt, cupping her bare pubis. His thumb pressed against her clit as he stroked up into her folds. She leaned into his touch, wanting him to feel the excitement that pulsed lightly through her womb, but he withdrew and grinned up at her. “Say please.”

“Please.” She tried to slide her hand beneath the waist of his pants, but he caught both her wrists and held her in just one of his hands. She could feel him erect against her belly, but he would not let her touch him.

“Say, d’shorr,” he murmured. His eyes were sparkling and his smile, cruel.

“D’shorr,” she echoed obediently, and tried unsuccessfully to pull out of his grip.

With his free hand, Kane cupped her breast. He squeezed, just hard enough to send a shiver up her spine. “D’shorr, Kane,” he growled, tracing small circles over her nipple. “Tamya y sa d’shorr.”

She repeated as best she was able, stumbling over the alien words as she leaned into the rough caress. There was a throb deep inside her, light at first, but growing more insistent as Kane continued to taunt her with his careful touch.

Kane’s claws grazed lightly down the curve of her rubs, and then he slipped between her thighs again. He rubbed his palm back and forth over her aching pussy, grinding against her but fulfilling nothing. “D’shorr, Kane. D’shorr en chok-sa. Say it, Raven. Ask me nicely.”

She tried, tumbling brokenly from her mouth as she struggled to find release against his teasing hand. “D’shorr, Kane. D’shorr en…en…tamya.” She gasped as he finally parted her, stroking up deep and slow as she shivered and clenched around him. “Tamya!”

“That’s terrible.” His hand left her pussy. His fingers invaded her mouth. She reacted unthinkingly, sucking at the salt of her own oils, and struggling to free her wrists from his iron grip. She pushed against his rigid shaft, managing only to sink a greater heat deep into her womb. He bent his head and licked at her breast, tonguing her nipple and tugging carefully at the metal imbedded there. “I don’t think you mean it.”

“D’shorr…d’shorr…” She couldn’t remember the rest. Her hips were rocking, sliding along the restrained length of him and driving her further into frustration. She wanted him, for the first time, she really wanted him and he was playing with her. A half-sob escaped her, even as she shivered with desire. “Kane, please, don’t do this to me!”

Suddenly, she was spinning. He flung her down on the mattress, slamming her hands together over her head, and pressed down on her from above. “What have I told you?” he growled, his teeth against the thin hollow of her throat. He thrust his knee between her thighs, parting them without grace and without resistance, and rubbed hard at her in the rhythm of sex. “What have I told you about telling me don’t?”

“Please!” she cried, writhing beneath him. “You said you’d let me!”

“I never said that, Raven,” he told her, almost singing it. His tongue lashed up the side of her neck and plunged into her mouth in a parody of the mating he would not otherwise allow. His free hand moved over her breasts, pinching and caressing, and his knee pumped at her with deliberate slowness as he kissed her. Then he pulled out of reach, nipping once at her jaw, and grinned down at her savagely. “Ask me nicely, Raven.”

“Please!”

“Wrong.” He bent and closed his mouth over her nipple, the pleasure so immediate and exquisite that it hurt. He rolled the sensitive bud with his tongue, bit very lightly, and then pressed against her and sucked hard, bringing her just to the cusp of an explosive orgasm. He drew back, glancing down at his knee, still rocking against her. “You certainly seem to be enjoying this,” he observed, “but you still won’t ask me nicely. I think I’m done here.”

“D’shorr, Kane!” She was almost screaming it, her hips thrusting up at his knee. “Tamya y…y…chok-sa d’shorr!”

He chuckled. “Close. But you’ll have to do better. Let’s have one more, and if you can get it right, I’ll give you something special. If you can’t…oh well.” He moved toward her mouth, then out of reach again as she strained up to meet him. “Your lesson, Raven,” he said sternly. His whole body stilled, his eyes grew sharp and hot. “Se ven garrug-ta,” he said, all playfulness gone. “Se garrug y sildurra Kane.”

What was she telling him? Breathless, aching with need, she couldn’t make herself care. But she could say the words.

He closed his eyes to hear them, his face at once stony and tense with some violent, hidden emotion. When he opened his eyes again, they burned. “Very good,” he said quietly, and got up.

“No!” She surged forward, clutching at his arm. “You promised!”

Kane stepped away from the bed, but not out of her grip. “Show me,” he said. He unfastened the front of his pants, still staring down at her with that strange, hot expression. “Show me, and tomorrow I’ll let you take whatever you want from me.”

Weekend Writer Warrior 6/15

The Weekend Writing Warriors blog hop is a weekly event in which writers are invited to share eight sentences from one of their works for other writers, readers and random bloggers to read, critique and comment on. Visit their site by clicking on the button below for a list of other participating writers and share the love!

Today’s eight lines is again from Heat. It begins where Sunday Sneak Peek left off (feel free to back up a page and read it first) and will conclude tomorrow in a super-sized snippet to celebrate Sizzling Summer and end the Bad Boys of Romance Hop in style! If you leave a comment, don’t forget to tell me if you want to enter my giveaway for a chance to win a free ecopy of one of my books, your choice of title, including The Last Hour of Gann, available sometime around the end of the summer. Due to the graphic violence and strong sexual content of all my books, YOU MUST TELL ME that you want to enter the giveaways and leave a viable email address where I can contact you if you win. The Bad Boys drawing will be held June 18th, the Hot and Deadly Drawing on June 25th, and the Sizzling Summer drawing on July 1st! Good luck to everyone and be sure to check out the hundreds of participating authors for each of those hops by clicking on their buttons in my sidebar! Now…rejoining Kane and Raven on a hotel bed…

* * *

“Things,” she breathed, and let her lips just brush his. “Things that humans do.”

“Be careful,” he warned her, his voice low and amused. “I bite.”

“So do I.” She let her teeth close and pull at his lip, and then she slid her tongue past the double-row of his sharp teeth. He did not respond, but he did not discourage either, and she melted against him, exploring his strange mouth with sensuous abandon.

“Humans are very strange,” Kane said, once she’d drawn away. But he was smiling.

Sunday Sneak Peek 6/15

Sneak Peek Sunday is a weekly blog hop in which writers are challenged to post six paragraphs, no more and no less, from a published work or work in progress and then invite other writers, readers and random bloggers to read, critique and comment. Visit their site by clicking on the button below for a list of other participating writers and share the love!

Sizzling Summer and Bad Boys collide at the halfway mark in June and to celebrate this momentous intersection, I have compiled a super-sized snippet from Heat! Today’s six paragraphs sets up a scene which will continue in tomorrow’s Weekend Writer Warrior 8-Sentence Snippet, and then conclude on Monday with some Summer Sizzle to salute the Bad Boys of Romance Giveaway Hop on its final day before starting the Hot and Deadly Hop on June 20th! Remember that if you want to enter any or all of my corresponding giveaways, YOU MUST TELL ME SO when you leave a comment, and also leave a viable email address so I can contact you if you win! A drawing will be held on June 18th, June 25th, and July 1st. The prize for each drawing is a free ecopy of one of my books, the title of the winner’s choice, including the upcoming The Last Hour of Gann, which should be available at the end of summer! Good luck to everyone!

Today’s Sneak Peek begins in a hotel room, where Raven, fearing she has become replaceable during her temporary indisposition, attempts to win back Kane’s favor…

* * * * *

“When I am done,” Raven interrupted. “When I’m all the way done, will you let me…let me…” Her nerve was failing. Heat crawled and burned in her cheeks. She didn’t know what she was saying, and he was going to see right through her anyway. But he was gazing at her again, unblinking and horribly aware of her, and she had to say something. “Will you let me do things?” she asked, her voice cracking. “Things that I want?”

His head cocked, his features scored with surprise. She’d caught him off-guard and that had to count for something. Clearly, he’d thought she was going to ask him to get rid of the competition.

Kane stared at her, his thoughts unspooling hidden behind his shark-black eyes. Finally, he folded down the monitor and closed his pack, resting his hands atop it. “Things,” he echoed. “Such as?”

She couldn’t stop now, or he’d know for sure she’d been trying something.

Raven stood up and went to the foot of the bed. “Things,” she said, crawling cautiously onto the mattress.

Kane pushed his pack to one side, freeing the broad field of his chest for her to climb, and she obliged him, touching her lips to his warm flesh as she moved up his body. She could taste him, the clean male sweat of him, and it was not an unpleasant sensation. When she placed her hand over the alien place his heart beat, she realized she really had missed him.

* * * * *

Don’t forget to tune in tomorrow, True Believers, to read the next eight sentences in tomorrow’s WeWriWa snippet!

Summer Sizzles On

June 1st officially kicked off the Sizzling Summer Reads Party, hosted by the good folks at theromancereviews.com. There are literally hundreds of authors participating in Sizzling Summer and they are fabulous. Every day, a handful of books are spotlighted with a quick quiz. You can find the answers by clicking on the helpful hint links, but if you’re anything like me, you’ll forget the question once you start exploring those sites. There’s fun and prizes and cake and lots of authors you can’t wait to read yet. (The cake is a lie.) So tell your friends and be sure to check back with them every day to explore some fresh sizzle and share your favorites!

In the meantime, every Monday and Thursday in June, I will celebrate the summer of sizzle with some sizzling samples from each of my books. I warn you right now: Some of them are weirder than others. Today, I’m going to give you a sneak peek at The Last Hour of Gann, which is on schedule to be released at the end of summer. In this excerpt, relatively early in the book, Meoraq is giving Amber a wilderness lesson in how to cure hides when he notices stormclouds growing…

* * * * *

“I want you to sleep in my tent tonight,” he said, frowning at the sky.

She looked up, brains dripping down her raised arms. “What? You what?”

“It means to rain. The hides should be kept dry.”

“Oh. Put them in your tent. Right.” She laughed a little. “I thought you told me to sleep in there.”

“I did,” he said, puzzled. “If you can’t mark my words, tell me so that I can repeat them. You need to sleep on the hides so that your weight and warmth—”

“In your tent?” Her face was very pink. Drops of brains fell lightly on her blood-stained thighs. “With you?”

Some great invisible hammer came clubbing down on the whole of his body, leaving him to stare foolishly back at her as if asking a woman to share his bedchamber, even if it was just a tent, had no special significance at all. How could he even say that without realizing how it could be perceived? If he’d said this to a dumaq woman—any dumaq woman—she would be bowing herself there right this moment to receive his fires.

And with this unplanned thought, the warmth in his loins became flame.

‘I only want her out of the damn rain so the hides won’t get wet,’ he thought stubbornly. He wanted the hides to stay dry while they cured and he would admit to nothing more, but when Sheul wanted him to make leathers, He provided the rend, and when He wanted His chosen to breed, He gave them women.

‘And she is a woman, no matter what else she is,’ he thought. ‘A stubborn woman, an insufferable woman, a human woman, but a woman and when I order a woman to my room, by God and Gann, she goes!’

His head tipped warningly. “Do you not mark me?”

“I understand you just fine.”

“Then you will sleep in my tent.”

“Why?”

“What? Why do you think?”

She did not answer and the silence gradually stole both the edge from his voice and the urgency from his constrained member. He leaned back, scratching once, needlessly, at the side of his snout.

“Why do you think?” he asked finally, quietly.

“I think,” she said, not meeting his eyes, “you know you can sleep on these things without me.”

He looked at her without really seeing her. His mind was like the clouds, heavy without weight, in constant motion but unchanging. He did not think, exactly, but after a certain span of time, he said, “Come to my tent tonight.”

Hump Day Hook 6/12

Today’s hook comes from my WIP, The Last Hour of Gann, and honestly, we’re coming to the end of what I feel I can post without giving away too much of the story, so this may be the last hook from Gann. We’ll see how it goes. Anyhoo, the excerpt opens with Amber waiting quietly at camp while Meoraq meditates somewhere in the wilderness. She is not afraid to be alone. She has no premonition of danger. She does not know she is being watched…

Hump Day Hook is a weekly blog hop where writers are invited to hook readers with just a few paragraphs from a work in progress or published work. Visit their site by clicking on the button below for a list of other participating writers and share the love!

It really wasn’t very windy today. The smoke from her fire made a strong, obvious arrow in the sky, pointing right at her camp. These raiders had come a long way from their usual route to investigate. There were only five of them now; the other six remained with the slaves they had acquired at the nearby city of Praxas, where they had traded bundles of dried phesok for the cast-off daughters of those who had them to spare. The raiders were certainly not above attacking Praxas (two of their number even now had been taken as young boys during such raids), but when trade was good, it behooved them all to use diplomatic measures.

Now they had spied a potential new target and so they came, crawling on their bellies as soon as they were near enough to see the lone silhouette at the glowing coals, blades out and ready. They had expected a warrior—it was always wisest to expect the worst, although far more common to find instead some fool youth who fancied himself a hunter or, ha, a raider—and they were ten body-lengths from the fire before they realized, almost in unison, that they had no idea what sat at camp before them.

They stopped, exchanging questioning glances in the silent way of pack predators. The man who was their leader considered for perhaps eight heartbeats. Then he gestured with his sword and the crawl resumed. The essential meat of the matter had not changed. Regardless of what form it took, this was prey. That it was also strange might or might not mean greater profit, but one could only know that once the prey was taken.

So they took it.

 

Sizzling Summer Reads Continues

June 1st officially kicked off the Sizzling Summer Reads Party, hosted by the good folks at theromancereviews.com. There are literally hundreds of authors participating in Sizzling Summer and they are fabulous. Every day, a handful of books are spotlighted with a quick quiz. You can find the answers by clicking on the helpful hint links, but if you’re anything like me, you’ll forget the question once you start exploring those sites. There’s fun and prizes and cake and lots of authors you can’t wait to read yet. (The cake is a lie.) So tell your friends and be sure to check back with them every day to explore some fresh sizzle and share your favorites! Just click their button in the sidebar and have fun!

In the meantime, every Monday and Thursday in June, I will celebrate the summer of sizzle with some sizzling samples from each of my books. If you leave a comment for any post tagged with Sizzling Summer Reads and tell me you want in, you will be entered in a drawing to win one of my books, of the title of your choice, including the upcoming The Last Hour of Gann! Because my books contain explicit elements of violence and graphic sexual content, YOU MUST TELL ME YOU WANT TO ENTER. Oh, and leave me a viable email address so I can contact you if you win. Good luck to everyone!

Today’s sizzle comes from my latest published book, Cottonwood, and is easily the weirdest sizzle of the set. In this excerpt, my human heroine and alien hero are about to enjoy some alone time. I warn you, when I say “alien” this time, I don’t want you to imagine the essentially human-like aliens of Heat. Sanford is more of a…oh…more of a giant preying mantis.

Sanford was out of the shower already, at the end of a neat row of wet footprints, studying the tired landscape hung between the two beds. He was naked, chitin dripping and shiny in patches, dulling where it had begun to dry. There was such a relaxed and easy expectation in that posture—waiting for her—and it would have raised her eyebrows except, of course, why else had she gotten two rooms? It was as good as announcing to both of them that she was in the mood, so take your toy, kid, and don’t mind any loud noises.

He glanced around at her giggles, but seemed satisfied it wasn’t at his expense when she came smiling over and slid her fingers along his side-seam. “Are you tired?” she asked.

“Exhausted,” he replied seriously. “I will sleep very well after we have copulated.”

Gosh, she loved this guy.

“You need to tell me what to do,” she said, undressing. “Because last night was mine and it was wonderful, but I want to make you happy tonight and I don’t know how. Tell me how to touch you.”

“It does not matter how I am touched,” he told her, pulling her blouse over her head. He dropped it indifferently on the pile of shoes, socks and jeans, and then ran his hands over her breasts. “Only who I am with. And I am with you.”

His claspers darted out, tickling at her belly and thighs as he cupped her elbows and brought her half a step towards him. Only that far, no closer. He held her lightly in his hands, very still, gazing at her. His palps were spread. Every breath they took was shared. Apart from his claspers tickling at her thighs and some small twitches of his antennae, he was motionless, serene. Enjoying her nearness, as foreplay.

And it was enough, bizarrely. She wasn’t in the least impatient as she rested her arms on his and looked up into his eyes. Quite the contrary, her excitement seemed to be spinning up in a slow and lazy way, not a tension so much as a peaceful anticipation. She remembered with sudden and almost painful clarity the end of That Talk with her mom at the insufferable age of fourteen, when her mother had concluded the facts portion of the program by telling Sarah that sex was more than just mechanics and feeling good, it was an emotional and spiritual thing. “And that’s why you should wait until you are married,” she’d said, cementing firmly in young Sarah’s mind the idea that her mother could not be any lamer if she’d been born without legs. “Because it’s all candles when it’s for thrills, but when it’s with the one you love for all time, it’s the sun.”

Sex with this particular man was never going to be normal or comfortable or completely free of that awkward “you’re stabbing me with your shell” whisper, but it was still amazing, mind-expanding, world-defining sex. Not because of what he did, but because of who he was, and knowing that anything he did do was solely because he wanted to please her.

“I am ready,” he said at last, emotion as a tight timbre under his words. “Please turn around.”