Jenika Snow's Blog, page 9

Contest...Contest!!

October 1st is Evernight's Birthday Come Join in our Author Blog Hop!  GRAND PRIZES New KINDLE E-Reader $50.00 Cash via PayPal $40.00 Evernight Gift Certificate
The Blog Hop Starts HERE  
We will also be choosing ONE winner from EACH of the participating blogs to win a $5.00 Evernight Gift Certificate.  Many of the bloggers are also giving away additional prizes.

To be entered in the Grand Prize draws, you will need to FOLLOW and COMMENT on the Evernight Publishing Blog.  We will be selecting the winners from the comments of random blogs in the hop, so make sure to visit as many as you can!

We want to thank our readers and authors for a wonderful first year!
Have Fun Hopping!
Winners will be posted on Oct. 3rd

Gues Author, Lizzie Leaf

Some Nights Should Be an All-Nighter

Last night was one of those nights, preceded by one of those days.  Woke up yesterday not feeling great yesterday for some reason.  Off my stride and unmotivated, which seemed to go along with a few aches and what-not.  Somewhere along the course of the day, I got it into my head to eat by way out of not feeling good.  That led to me consuming all the ice cream in the freezer (granted, there wasn't a lot there), which then led to me going out to run the errand that I'd forgotten because I didn't feel good.
 Now there is logic here, so hang with me.  By getting out of the house to take care of an errand (yeah, right!), I went by a fast food place that I always go past and never stop.  But, yesterday it called to me and I answered the call.  From there, I convinced myself since hubby was getting home from a business trip I needed to replace the ice cream (reality check here…why do you think I ran the errand).  And since the ice cream was on sale, maybe I should get my fav along with his.  Well, I'm sure you can imagine what came next.  After cutting back on sugar for several months my body didn't appreciate my consumption of half a carton of ice cream.  Oh yeah, by the time my honey got home I REALLY didn't feel too well and didn't spend a lot of time visiting with him.  Hey, he doesn't travel much these days and probably sees enough of me anyway.
As it turns out, I should have kept him company.  Went to sleep with not problem at all, then around 12:30 a.m. it began.  First I was hot, then I was cold and this required a lot of kicking off and pulling up covers through out the night, along with the beating and turning of pillows (notice please, hubby snored blissfully through all of this).  Add in six trips to the bathroom and of course the needed a glass of water each time I got up (do you see another bathroom visit in my near future) created a long night.  Making it even longer was my poor hyped up brain from sugar overload wouldn't shut down and creativity had to kick in with new story ideas, so I spent a lot of hours waiting for dawn.  When the alarm went off, I was actually happy.  If it had been a weekend night, I would have given it up after the first hour and dug out the laptop, but work days for the husband means a 4:15 a.m. rise and shine for us both.  Being a positive thinker, hope is always a toss or a turn away that sleep will win the battle and there have been nights it does.  But not last night.  So here I am, bleary-eyed and now hyped on caffeine, ready to tackle the day.
Do you have nights like that?  Nights where you know if you just lie there you mind will calm, your body will give up the fight and sleep will call you, but instead you stare into the dark waiting for dawn or the alarm to go off?
Find Lizzie at:www.lizzietleaf.comhttp://twitter.com/#!/lizzietleafhttp://www.facebook.com/#!/profile.php?id=826769827and at her blog  http://lizzietleaf.blogspot.com/




Blurb:
Following the Powers directive to unite soul mates, a Scottish Cailleach's magic will have repercussions in several realms.
Mixed-blood Ian McCabe, grandson of Fae and gods tries to deny his powers. When he discovers mortal, Emma Grant unconscious at the bottom of the steps to his castle, his world starts to change.
Tour director Emma Grant's bus breaks down and her effort to find help results in a fall that knocks her unconscious. She awakens to find the man of her dreams staring into her eyes.
But will his secrets and her distrust of men tear them apart?
Beyond MagicAuthor:  Lizzie T. LeafPublisher:  Passion in Print PressRated: PG
Beyond Magic is the first book in the Magical Love series.  A Scottish Cailleach has been directed by the Powers to unite several pairs of lovers.  First up, Emma a tour director who has grown up believing she is a mere mortal and Ian, descended from Fae and godly realms. 
Releasing October 2011:  Emerging Magic  The Cailleach strikes again…this time reluctantly!
Excerpt:
"Sire, it appears we have a female lying at the bottom of the front steps.""What?" Ian whirled his chair around from the computer screen and stared at his butler. Was the elf up to one of his tricks? Proper to the point of boring most days, occasionally a side of Helmond surfaced in the form of a jokester on some unsuspecting soul. Ian narrowed his eyes and studied the little man. "Is this one of your attempts to liven things up around here?"Helmond's body went rigid and his voice assumed a hoity tone. "I assure you, Sire, this is not meant to be humorous. Come see for yourself." He turned on his heel as smartly as any parade soldier and headed for the door.The old guy's poker face had given nothing away. In fact, if anything he seemed insulted by Ian's insinuation that the announcement was an attempt to pull his leg. Why did things happen when he had at long last hit a creative spurt? The words flowed easily today and he resented the interruptions. This better not be a joke or he'd have the little man's hide.Helmond already held the door open as Ian approached. A blast of wind and rain slapped him in the face while he looked over the butler's shoulder. There did appear to be a body at the bottom of the steps. How strange. He stepped around the old elf and left him to hold the door as he ran down the steps to the listless form. Rain soaked clothes plastered to her body and left no doubt it was a woman…a very well developed woman.Ian knelt beside her, lifted a wrist and placed a finger on her pulse point. Light, but steady. That was a good sign. He closed his eyes and held his hands over her body, allowing his senses to determine the extent of any damage. A slight concussion where she hit her head appeared to be the only real area of concern. No surprise, she was on the verge of hyperthermia. He had no idea how long she'd lay here. He placed his hands over the knot on her head and directed a flow of energy in the form of light to heal the spot. The swelling receded and his hands heated while the crack in her skull mended. She'd have a headache when she came around, but that would be the worst of the damage.Lifting the limp female in his arms, he carried her up the steps where Helmond held the door open. He'd find out the how and why, and who, when she came to. Right now, the important things were to get her out of the wet clothes then get her warm. A wave of sudden passion swept through him when he held the woman's body against his. What in bloody hell? That's never happened to me before.He looked down at the still face and another surge of heat ripped through him. The woman in his arms did nothing to entice him. She was unconscious and he had to be barmy…totally mad. Neither thought prevented an erection equal to any he had during his hormone ridden adolescent years. Ian focused his mind on climbing the steps, one step at a time, in an attempt to quell his lust."Turn down the covers on the bed in the room next to mine and bring me some wrapped hot stones," he instructed his butler. He'd get her undressed and under the covers. The stones at her feet would eliminate the chill.Stripped down to her matching bra and panties, Ian discovered a female more voluptuous than he originally thought. He could understand why artists loved to paint a woman with curves instead of angles. The bit of wet lace she probably considered underwear resisted his attempt to remove it. Finally, he managed to get it down her legs and over her feet, then turned his focus to the lacy bra. Thankfully, the hook allowed its easy removal and her lush breasts to spill free. Ian stood and admired the nude body stretched against the white sheets. The patch of hair between her thighs was the same deep auburn as on her head. He should be ashamed for blatantly staring, but he made no effort to pull up the covers until he heard the approach of footsteps. Instead, he watched the rise and fall of her full breasts, while resisting the urge to cup one in his hand to see if they were as soft as they looked.The passion that had subsided now returned anew; his cock so hard, it hurt. Granted it had been awhile since he'd had a woman, but he wasn't a teenager with raging hormones any longer. By the gods, it appeared his paternal genes were no longer dormant. His grandfather couldn't keep his pants up and his grandmother couldn't keep her dress down. The throb of his erection confirmed he'd inherited more from his father's family than he wanted to admit. Just what he didn't need; out of control sexual urges."Sire, the hot stones you requested." Helmond carried a basket filled with the towel covered rocks, which Ian took from the little man. Grateful for the interruption, Ian pulled the covers loose from the bottom of the bed and placed the warmth around his patient's feet."Have cook prepare a hot broth for our guest, Helmond. I'm sure when she awakens she will still feel chilled.""Certainly, Sire. And what shall I do about the vehicle a short distance from the entrance to our driveway?"Ian shot a surprised look in the butler's direction. "By the gods, what on earth are you rambling about now?"The corners of Helmond's mouth twitched upward for a brief second. "One of the woodcutters discovered a small coach. He says there are more females in it.""Bloody hell." If Helmond wasn't playing tricks, then maybe the Fates were the jokesters. A little joke at his expense wasn't beneath that august group. Obviously, they thought his life too simple and decided he needed more excitement. Or were the Big Os involved in this mess? Whatever, a bus full of female mortals would create enough excitement to last him an eternity. He glanced at the still woman. She likely belonged to the coach people and they might soon worry. "Arrange for them to be brought to the castle and make them feel welcome." If immortals could get headaches, he'd have a migraine about now. Speaking of headaches, he'd better have some aspirin brought in also. When she awakened, she needed to have enough discomfort to not be suspicious of the healing he'd maneuvered."Yes, Sire. Shall I assign them rooms?"Ian looked out the window. The rain now came down in sheets. If this woman left her companions to venture out in the driving wet, then something must be wrong with the vehicle. If that were the case, it would be at least tomorrow before the coach could be repaired. His magic didn't extend to mechanical problems. No, the repairs would be done the old fashion way; by a mechanic. "Yes. Prepare the guest rooms and inform the kitchen of the additional meals needed. Also, bring the bottle of aspirin I keep in the bathroom Mr. Brian uses when he sleeps over."A moan from the female drew Ian's attention back to the bed. Now partially dried, the red hair created a wavy halo around her porcelain face. He walked over to the edge of the bed and sat. She moaned again and her eyes lids fluttered, once, twice, then slowly opened.Ian stared into eyes the exact shade of his favorite sherry-aged whisky and at that moment, he knew who the message on the wind was meant for. The throbbing erection that tented his kilt dispelled any doubts.http://www.passioninprint.com/ShowBook.php?CR=LTL_BEYONDMAGICAlso available in print and Kindle at Amazon.com and if not in stock ask your bookstore to order.Read the Love Romances and More review: http://loveromancesandmore.blogspot.com/2011/03/beyond-magic-by-lizzie-t-leaf.html  Lizziewww.lizzietleaf.comhttp://lizzietleaf.blogspot.com/http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=826769827http://twitter.com/lizzietleaf

Gues interview, Raven Kelly

[image error]     -Do you have a day job? If so what do you do? I'm the webmistress for three websites. Vampiress.ca, VampireBooks.ca, and RavenKelly.com. I'm from Canada, and live in the beautiful province of British Columbia. I read and review paranormal and vampire books as a hobby, and I absolutely love it. When I'm not reading and reviewing books, my husband and I have our own Internet company together that we have been running for over 15yrs. 
-Do you have a favorite author/s? WOW, that is hard question to answer. I don't want to be biased, but some that instantly come to mind are Lyndsay Sands, Elizabeth Loraine, Gerry Bartlett, Christine Freehan, and Rae Lori are a few authors that I really enjoy. 
-What is your favorite color? I absolutely love the color pink. I wear at least one piece of clothing that is the color of pink every day. I even have pink streaks in my hair. 
-How many pieces of jewelry do you wear on a daily basis?  I wear at least seven pieces of jewelry. One bracelet, four to five rings, and one necklace. 
-What is your favorite junk food? CHOCOLATE, I love chocolate. Anything that has chocolate on it, I'm eating. My husband has to hide chocolate from me because I would eat it all day long. 
-What is your favorite movie? Oh my, I can not just name one movie, I love watching movies. Here are some of my favorite movies that come to mind are.

- Twilight Series
- Star Wars
- Lord of the Rings Trilogy
- Braveheart
- Underworld Series 
I want to thank Jenkia Snow for giving me the opportunity to tell you all little bit about myself. I hope you enjoyed reading my interview. =-)  Please check out my websites here by visiting these URL's below. http://www.vampirebooks.ca
http://www.vampiress.ca
http://www.ravenkelly.com My Blog: http://vampiressca.blogspot.com/
Facebook Page: http://www.facebook.com/VampireBooks
Twitter Page: https://twitter.com/BookReviewDiva   




#yiv2017795079 unknown { }

Guest authors: R. Paul Sardana & Trisha Garcia

R. Paul Sardanas and Tisha Garcia, co-authors of Torera, from Passion In Print Press

Do you have a favorite author/authors?  
R. Paul: There are hundreds of course, but if I put it in terms of who would I want to have with me to read while stranded on a desert island, I would choose Yukio Mishima (his Sea of Fertility tetralogy, which he committed suicide after completing, as he believed he had reached the zenith of his literary life), and Don McGregor (his book Dragonflame and Other Bedtime Nightmares – and Don is very much alive).
Tisha:Wow lets see that list is rather extensive. I've been a voracious reader since I was like eight. My list is a little eclectic. I would have to say that one of my major influences would have to be V.C Andrews (the original NOT the army of ghost writers). Even today you have to genuflect when you reread Flowers in the Attic. That was some seriously dark stuff right there, yet so deliciously great!  For erotica I get high on Anais Nin—without her I don't think any of us would really be here. I could only hope to ever write something half as amazing as Delta of Venus. I've been obsessed with horror since I was in Nursery School. I've always been fascinated by the dark and macabre, the more grotesque, the better. One of the reasons I like writing horror so much is that you can do anything with it. I think that as a genre it has the most freedom. You can explore the dark heart of humanity and disturb the hell out of people or you can make them laugh hysterically. With horror, pretty much anything goes. So Dan Simmons and Robert R. McCammon, Graham Masterton, Thomas Harris of course Dean  R. Koontz, and I've just recently fallen in love with Joe Hill ( Steven King's son) if you haven't read Horns yet you're missing out!  For the classics Charles Dickens I can't even say how many times I have read Great Expectations. And lastly but certainly not least  Nabokov & Ayn Rand.
What is your writing day like?
R. Paul: I generally write during the long bus trip I take every weekday morning, hitting the road at about 6:30 AM and writing book chapters, poems, and other works in longhand on loose scraps of paper. At home in the evenings and on weekends I transcribe these nearly indecipherable scribbles to type on my laptop computer. This adds upto between a quarter and a half a million words a year.
Tisha:I'm a night owl so I usually don't go to sleep until anywhere between 2-4 AM most nights. It's against my religion to get up before noon. I don't especially enjoy breakfast food and since it's so late—I usually will pick up some fast food (Five Guys anyone? Umm the burger place not...perves!) or just pack whatever is left over in the refrigerator and eat it in my local bookstore Half Off Books. I don't know about other writers but I can't manage to type more then fourteen words without music or some really good coffee. I try to use the music I listen to off my play list to get me in the mood. I'm currently listening to a lot of Flyleaf and The Dodos. I always work off of a chapter list that is pretty detailed and as I go along I mark it off. Since I usually co-write I just split the work up and go back and forth in e-mails as the novel is written. I'm rather prolific and can write for hours and hours until they kick me out. I go home walk my dachshunds make some decaf and climb in bed and edit and revise the rest of the night.

What is your favorite movie?
R. Paul: The last time I was asked this question I chose three separate film versions of Hamlet – one with Laurence Olivier, one with Kenneth Branagh, and one with Ethan Hawke. I'm going to cheat a little again and pick the collaborative films of far and away my favorite screen couple: Richard Burton and Elizabeth Taylor.  Dr. Faustus, Cleopatra, The Taming of the Shrew, The Sandpiper, Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf – nobody matches Burton and Taylor for pure intensity and passion.
Tisha:I hate TV but love the movies. Top 5 would have to be Hard Candy, High Tension, What Dreams May Come, Children of Men and the ultra quirky Matilda.

Who are your favorite musician/s?
R. Paul: I'll go with John Lennon in his immediate post-Beatles career, Beethoven, Diana Krall, Jimi Hendrix wailing "All Along the Watchtower", Madonna doing her "Like a Prayer" video, and Tom Waits singing "Waltzing Matilda".
Tisha:That's like asking which of my daughters I love more.( if you're reading this mommy loves you!) I really love all kinds of music, except Polka—the beat's just too damn hard to dance to. So like my reading choices its just as eclectic and unbelievably LONG. LAUGHS so I'll just stick to what is always on repeat in my headphones, Top and foremost: Madonna. She's my girl. When I really wanna sit down and get in the mood to write some hot sex scenes I only listen to Chris Isaak. His song, Cant Do A Thing To Stop Me makes me go commando in a hurry. Oops that was another question .Depeche Mode, Garbage, The Beatles, Jill Scott (I love it when she says "toast two scrambled eggs.") Damien Marley, Sade, The Police, Sting, Sara Evans and Fiona Apple. Just discovered Basia Bulat—she's really amazing.

What is your favorite color?R. Paul: I'll say the color of my wife's dress on our first date: black. She was breathtaking.
Tisha:Pitch black.
What is your current project?
R. Paul: I always have more than one. I'm working on a mainstream novel called The Fount, about the Lebensborn  movement in wartime Germany and its aftermath in a woman's life in postwar 1950's America; a poetry/art collection with David Cuccia about the women of ancient Rome, called The Daughters of Minerva; collaborations with some fine co-writers (including Tisha, we are doing a story called Beneath an Elegant Moon, based loosely on The Satryricon) – and the latest installment of the Siobhan Bishop Erotic Underworld series.
Tisha: Well besides the erotic novel Torera, and Beneath an Elegant Moon with Paul, I'm sort of a mixed bag. I am working on a screenplay adaption of Sartre's No Exit which will be a lot darker then the original as I think Sartre originally intended. I'm co-writing a dark psychological thriller with my good friend David C. Strickler titled Submission. I've also just started a solo project that I hope to have done by this Winter titled Black Milk—dark horror erotica which definitely will be in the scorching category.

Do you have any series out? And if so what are they about?
R. Paul: The Siobhan Bishop Erotic Underworld series from Passion in Print Press revolves around a book expert who is drawn into unique paranormal adventures. The books have a lot of intense sexuality, and have included themes like a secret society based on rituals of sex and death; the fierce techniques of Aztec vampire sensuality; andLilith-inspired Kabbalistic domination/submission. Though the books comprise an ongoing series, each can stand on its own and be read individually.
Tisha:Not out officially. But, I'm co-writing with my friend David Strickler a novel called Crossing Over— it spans twenty centuries in the lives of two immortal vampires. The story will come to a conclusion in On the Other side.

Where do you see yourself in 5 years?
R. Paul: Creating in very much the same way I am now – balancing classical and scholarly works with intense creations of pulp fiction (as I love both ends of that spectrum), as well as continuing my career as both a mainstream, speculative and erotic poet.
Tisha:Ideally I would love to have a handful of my books wedged on a shelf between Susie Bright's Best American Erotica and Anais Nin. I would like to be making enough as a writer that I can afford to shut myself away in some gingerbread-style cabin in the country somewhere happily writing like the female Nabokov. Then that song by Aloe Blacc—I Need A Dollar— wouldn't have to be David's and my theme song any more.

Do you have a day job? And if so what do you do?
R. Paul: Yes, I do have a day job (which explains that long morning bus ride mentioned earlier). I've worked as a printer now for over 30 years. If printing was good enough for William Blake, it's good enough for me.
Tisha: I own a wedding cake business and when I'm not doing that I serial kill on the side .Although technically that's just a hobby...

If you could go on a date with one of your characters who would it be and what would it be like?
R. Paul: Well, I am devoted to my beautiful wife, but as this is the purest speculation, I would have to choose Siobhan Bishop: a bibliophile and mystic, who is proof that the sexiest of all literary women are those with the keenest intelligence. We could sit on the balcony of the Algiers Coffee House in Harvard Square sipping Karkadale Hibiscus tea and chatting about the influence of Lilith in male/female relationships.
Tisha:It would have to be the super sexy alpha male Diego in Torera. In my mind he's Alejandro Sanz (who's extra yummy. If he was a sweater I'd wear him on my head) We would go horse back riding in the country and share a picnic of all of my favorite Spanish foods and he would tell me tales of the bulls he had mastered and then I would end up ripping his clothes off and having sex with him on the grass. Look- I usually don't put on a first date as a rule, but for him we could make allowances.

R. Paul Sardanas' website: www.rpaulsardanas.comTisha Garcia's website: www.onedirtyword.weebly.com
I want to thank both R. Paul Sardanas & Trisha Garcia for taking the time to do this interview. Read below for their co-author story, Torrera & Beneath an Elegant Moon!

Torera spans thirty tumultuous years in the life of a woman bullfighter.

Lucretia Maria Calderon turns her back on a dance career, plunging instead into the wild and dangerous life of the Spanish bullfighting circuit. Filled with honor and tradition, it is also a career noted for passionate obsession and excess, shadowed by the possibility of sudden death. She will also indulge in two intense love affairs, powerfully erotic, which highlight the dual nature of her life as she bonds sexually with both the naive and loving dancer Christian and the dark, harsh matador Diego, known as El Diablo, The Devil.

Toreraan excerpt

PreludeInterview for Corrida Magazine, 1981



When Lucretia Maria Calderon completed her career as a torera and matadora, a unique chapter in the corrida de toros-the ancient art of bullfighting-came to a close. Unbowed by situations of derision and prejudice, undaunted by wounds, Senorita Calderon, who last fought nine years ago before retiring at the age of twenty-seven, agreed to this interview at her small ranch outside of Sevilla.



Thank you, Senorita Calderon, for allowing us to speak with you in your home.
I'm glad to.
Are you enjoying your retirement?
Do you want an honest answer?
Of course.
I would rather right now be dirty and bloody in the sand.
So you embrace the old maxim about matadors...
Yes. "The true matador never retires, just becomes either wise or dead." I was wise, I suppose, to know the day when I had slowed enough for the bull to catch up to me.
Well, we can go back in time, at least in memory, for an hour or two here on your sunny veranda.
I'll do my best not to bore you, but you must promise me the same. Fair warning. Foolish questions will get short, profane answers.
I suspect you've been asked a lot of foolish questions in your time.
My share.
Such as, "Why become a bullfighter?"
Yes, that is the stupidest of all. I warned you, ask better, or put down your microphone and margarita and fuck off right now.
(Laughs) I'll phrase it differently. Tell me about the things that drew you to the ring in the beginning. Better?
Bueno.
The thought of doing dangerous things always appealed to me even as a small girl. Risk taking and challenges inspired me. Watching my grandfather and the other men in the corrals test the animals, I began to wonder about what a matador in the bullring consciously experiences while confronting the charge of a beast weighing nearly a thousand pounds with lethal horns. After all, the toro bravo, or fighting bull, is said to be faster than a racehorse for the first few hundred feet of a sprint and can turn more quickly than a polo horse.
Of course my mama and even my papa were less than overjoyed when I announced how desperately I wanted to be a torera. They placed obstacles in my path hoping that I would change my mind. My mother demanded that I finish my studies in the arts. She always dreamed that I would follow in her footsteps to become a prima ballerina. My father, though a former matador himself, never openly encouraged me.
In the end, it was a lot of hard work, determination and my grandfather's connections which facilitated the pursuit of my dream. The men in my family spent countless hours and days learning and practicing to be bullfighters. The more I watched and learned, the more I desired to master the art. I like to think that my years of dance prepared me for being one of the best matadors in the ring. When you look at the positions matadors are assuming when twirling and luring the bull in with cape, it's almost art, like a ballet, but really in a woman these are more graceful, more feminine and more natural positions.
Let's talk about the dirt and the blood, and your legacy there. Your arena name. La Encarnado Beso.
Yes. The Red Kiss.
I know red became your signature color. But the kiss?
Well, I delivered the kiss of death with honor to many bulls, did I not? Many brave, many difficult and cowardly. But La Encarnado Beso? It was nothing quite so mythical or profound as that.



Chapter OneJuly, 1965



Lucretia stood before the bullring stands, sword lowered, its point just above the sand. She shifted her booted feet, then became very still. In the other hand she held the muleta-her brother's-the red cloth frayed a little on the fringe, the stick holding it bent from the time he was tossed and gored, ending his career before it had begun. She inclined her head, requesting permission from the ring president to perform the kill.
Permission was granted with a nod of the man's head, but with a hint of amusement in the president's eyes and around his mouth. Indulging the dilettante woman torera-no doubt wondering if she would blanch when it came time to put the sword in.
Just watch me, senor.
"Viva La Encarnado Beso!" Some fool shouted it from the stands, and though she'd brought that signature on herself, she wished the idiot would shut up.
After the bull is down, shout all you want.
Lucretia raised her gaze to sweep the stands, taking in the blur of expressions on the faces of the spectators, ranging from gaiety to frowning disapproval, but most of all excitement. It didn't matter if the watcher wore colorful and expensive clothes or the plain shirt and trousers of a peasant, a thrill and a madness rested on their features. Other cheers and catcalls rippled through the air, threaded through with music in the background as trumpeters and other players high above the ring added their strains of drama and festivity.
She wanted to turn and show her total lack of fear to Diego, who had fought well earlier today. He would be standing somewhere near the barrera, the red-painted wooden fence that circled the arena, ready with the day's other matadors and banderilleros to lure the bull away from her if she should go down.
What a night we had last night, and what a morning. I wonder what he is thinking, seeing me here on the sands where he has triumphed so many times?
She wondered if perhaps he secretly wanted to see her fail, so that he could swoop in with the other full matadors and be her rescuer. She knew his reputation-hard and driven, living up to his arena name, El Diablo, The Devil. But she also remembered the stubborn, fiercely determined boy he had been when they had first met, so many years ago. How she had admired him!
Men. Her grandfather Raul, who could have had a decent cheap seat as her manager, had paid far too much for a seat in the first row of the gallery. Would he be watching her intently now, feeling the fear that she could not allow in herself, perhaps? Yes, perhaps. But also wanting to see her display style in the climactic moment.
Before driving her from her hotel room here in Pamplona to the Plaza de Toros and the day's fight, her grandfather had pestered and primped her, and gone on and on until she thought she would go crazy, tipping the Córdoban hat on her head to the right, then to the left, seeking for the best angle atop her blonde hair, which had been braided tight at the back of her neck. He'd made sure the Spanish leather chaps tied properly so that the tassels at her waist hung at the front in a dignified manner.
He had looked at her with emotion in his eyes-those eyes that she had so often looked to for the affection that had come to her so rarely at home-and perversely it had made her feel rebellious and petulant.
"Basta, Abuelito! I look like shit, and you know it."
"For one day keep the devil out of your mouth, Luci," he'd admonished. "Today you are a torera. Wear the moment with pride."
"Screw that!" Lucretia had brushed him back-gently, despite the outburst.
He'd simply smiled.
"You are champing for your bull." He had reached forward to arrange the tassels again. "Your blood is rushing. I may have just been a picador, but you think I don't remember?"
"Look at me, in this black and white costume," she'd gone on, "while the matadors will be glittering in their traje de luces. No suit of lights for a woman! Doesn't it make you laugh, Grandpa? While I was dancing in France, I'd go on about bullfighters, and the others in the troupe would laugh at me. ‘What pansies in their pretty sequins!' I used to tell them to screw themselves. So here we are, and my reward for defending the honor and machismo of the fighters is to go into the ring dressed like a tradesman."
She had tugged the black Andalusian jacket down farther over her plain white shirt. Affixed only by the top button, it hung over the shirt in an open triangle.
"What does that matter? Your muleta is worn, but only because it's been held bravely so many times before. And your sword is sharp, since you've been going at it nonstop with a whetstone for a week."
Still steaming, she'd stormed across the room to where she had left her everyday things, rummaging for the small cosmetics case her mother had insisted a lady should never be without. She'd pulled out a bright red lipstick and flourished it before her grandfather.
"Now, Luci..."
Turning away from him toward the mirror, Lucretia had applied the sanguine color to her lips with angry slashes, until satisfied that the vivid red leaped out in contrast to her drab-colored costume.
"It's a woman who fights today." She had favored him with a fierce smile.
"Now, Luci, I've told you. Dignity. Having that on your mouth makes you look like a..."
"Puta?" she had offered. "If someone in the stands calls me a whore, Grandpa, I'll tickle his balls with my sword."
"Your mother," he'd answered doubtfully, "is going to regret having made you carry those cosmetics around."
"Good." Lucretia had continued to smile, tipping her hat so that it tilted the other way. "Now I am ready to go."
Lucretia brought her eyes down from the stands, returning her attention to the moment at hand. The fight had gone moderately well to this point, with the first act, the trial of the lances-that of the picadors on horseback spiking the bull-having produced only one gored horse, to the delight and horror of the crowd. The picador had escaped unhurt. How many times had Grandpa been unhorsed in his day, she wondered? A hundred? More? And yet he sat in the gallery today, smiling and cheering. A picador, like a matador, ended up wise or dead. But Lucretia had seen his wounds when the old man washed. One fine day, she would bear equal badges of bravery. The horse, which could not be saved, had been covered in canvas. She could see it easily from where she stood, the canvas shroud no disguise to the presence of death. Her own brother's specter might be hovering above that lifeless form, a ghost in the ring even now. But she would not think such thoughts.
For the second act, the driving in of the banderillas-harpoon-shaped sticks with steel points placed into the humped muscle at the top of the bull's neck-Lucretia had insisted on doing it herself, though her grandfather had hired good banderilleros to place them for her. She had seen during the work of the picadors that the bull favored his right horn, hooking constantly with it, and she wanted to correct that with the placement of her sticks just so-preparing the bull for the final act, which had at last arrived. The bull had bumped her as she had worked the sticks, raising bruises she would not fully feel for hours yet, and the crowd had roared, again wondering if she would display cowardice.
Never. Let the bull be as difficult as it can. If he gets me, it will be my own damn fault. But he will not get me.
The salutation made and permission gained, Lucretia turned to the bull, which had moved into the center of the ring in the brief interval after the placing of the sticks. A difficult beast, yes, but one which she felt immense gratitude toward, as he had shown courage from the outset, charging into the ring with the power of a conqueror, wanting to fight. Lucretia had dreaded the embarrassment of a bull who would not charge, who only wanted to stand still or to escape. For all the careful breeding and choosing of fighting bulls, you could never be sure how they would react to the ring and the crowds, the attacks of the picadors.
Now he stood there waiting for her, wanting nothing more than to hook her on his horns, toss her, trample her, gore her and destroy her.
Yes, you are a worthy one. I salute you.
Lucretia inclined the sword in that salute, then walked gracefully to the center of the ring, showed the muleta, and shouted "Huh! Huh!" to capture his attention, and draw him in for the final passes. Adrenaline rushed through her as she raised the muleta held in both hands with the sword supporting it. The pase de la muerte, the classic pass of death. For an instant, the crowd, her memories, the men in her life, all of that vanished from her thoughts, as the bull thundered to her. The smell of sweat and blood poured over her, along with the intense animal scent of the enraged bull itself. Going high on her toes, she raised the sword and muleta straight up, and the bull followed, plunging past right under her arms. He hooked at her toward the right, just as she had expected. She had placed the sticks perfectly, so that even protruding from the bull's neck muscles she could evade them with a turn that would have given pride to her old ballet teacher. A roar, the exhale of the frustrated bull mixed with cheers that erupted from the stands, cascaded over her.
Ah! Come at me, toro.
From the band up in the stands came the sound of Dianas, the music played to applaud a good pass. No specific words or phrases could be heard among the crowd now-they had merged into a single throbbing cry and shout, like the sound of the sea.
The bull turned. She stood waiting in the position of another pass of death, her feet together and unmoving. Some toreros, and even seasoned matadors, would shuffle their feet in anticipation and uncertainty, but she would not be so weak. Only strength and grace.
The bull came on, and she rose again, but the bull had learned from the first pass and went higher as he passed her, hooking the bottom edge of the muleta and dragging her in close to his body. Even though his horns had passed her, he thrashed his head right and left, seeking to catch some part of her body on their points. Lucretia pirouetted and actually rolled herself standing along the length of the bull's form, scraping the sticks and scratching her face. Blood appeared on her Andalusian jacket-not her blood, but the bull's. There indeed was a badge of honor. A fighter who walked away at the end of the conflict un-blooded had surely kept a coward's distance. She stumbled slightly as the bull passed her fully and the dubious support of its body was gone. The slip made her angry at herself, but the crowd sent another cheer to high heaven, and more Dianas showered down from the band.
Now they will see me work!
Shifting the muleta to one hand and the sword to the other, she performed a high pass, the pase por altos, and then in succession did three low naturales, causing the bull to turn and pivot in circle after circle. Lucretia worked close-dangerously close, her grandfather would no doubt tell her-but she didn't care. She had entered what the matador called the State of Grace, where her body seemed to move of its own volition, as if turned on a string held by God himself. The plunging, charging, twisting bulk of the bull passed her in what seemed slow motion. She knew she must not become giddy in the moment, but at the same time the feeling of invulnerability made her laugh and shout again and again, taunting the bull with each miss.
The moment is here. Watch me, God, if you are here, for I will be an instrument of death with honor.
She performed a remate, which turned the bull and fixed him in a dead stop. Without hesitation Lucretia raised the sword and went in right between the horns, aiming the point at the one tiny spot between the bones of the bull's neck where it could penetrate. A fraction to the right or left, and it would grate on bone as hard and unyielding as concrete. It went in as if passing through butter. For a moment the beast stood stock still, then he tipped, and over he went, crashing into the sand.
The whole stadium stood, sending roars of approval that Lucretia thought would deafen her. The band played Diana after Diana. She wanted to roar right back at them, but Grandfather's favorite word returned, calming her. Dignity. Turning, she bowed, then stood straight and raised her sword to the crowd.
Flowers, among them a multitude of roses, Panama hats, coins, and God only knows what other tokens, rained down onto the sand. Lucretia ignored them all, conscious only of the fact that someone pressed one of the bull's ears into her hand, symbol of a fight well fought. The exhilaration of it all brought wild joy into her-she blew a kiss from her crimson lips to the stands, which made the crowd delirious, shouting "La Encarnado Beso! Viva! Viva!" This time she didn't mind the nickname. A rose fell right at her feet, and she picked it up, raising it as she had raised her sword in salute.
She looked for Diego...where was he? Ah, leaning against the red barrera fence, lounging there as if he never had a doubt.
El Diablo and La Encarnado Beso.
Shall we celebrate, Diego? The Devil and The Red Kiss?
She took off her Córdoban hat and sent it spinning up into the crowd, then shook out her braided hair to let golden locks tumble down to her shoulders, which raised the crescendo of the cheers to an even greater fever-pitch. A wild extravagance-buying another hat would cut into what would be meager profits from a woman torera's pay. But what did she care? Today a woman fought! This day belonged to her.

 During the reign of the Emperor Nero in the First Century AD, Psyche, a Numidian courtesan, meets Gaius Petronius, the Emperor's Arbiter of Elegance---the man who will write the enduring testament to Roman decadence, The Satyricon. Over three days, Psyche and Petronius contrive erotic spectacles that will ultimately be for the Emperor's pleasure. They are deeply attracted to each other, but Petronius is forbidden to touch Psyche, who has been selected for the Emperor alone. So they plot for their final spectacle to be one that transcends the flesh, and joins them closer than most lovers could ever dream. Beneath an Elegant Moonan excerpt

Chapter One
Psyche woke after a restless night of intense summer heat. Unusual for the air to be so relentlessly steaming here in Baiae-after all, it was to the seaside that the aristocrats of Rome came to escape the furnace-like summers of the city. But the month of Julius had seen baking heat that left the citizens of the bay-town sluggish and weary, and the month of Augustus had come in with no relief. Even business here at the House of Quartilla had been slow, with the courtesans sleeping most of the day away, and the night revelers less rowdy than the norm. Psyche, with her Numidian blood, never thought it got too hot for fucking, but clearly not everyone felt the same.
At least this morning a light sea-breeze stirred the curtains at her window casement. She sat up on her bed and watched the hazy clouds in the pink dawn sky for a while, before sliding to the edge of the pallet and putting her bare feet down on the tiles. A fine coating of sweat sheathed her black skin-she reached for a linen cloth draped over the bedpost and patted her forehead, shoulders, and breasts. Psyche never wore clothes to bed, unless a customer specifically requested it. She had serviced only one client last night-an equestrian from Pompeii who liked to stop in and visit the House of Quartilla on his way to business up the coast. A middle-aged man and not too vigorous a lover, he'd been gone in the pre-dawn, wanting to resume his travels before sunrise and hopefully dodge some of the heat. That had left Psyche with a few precious hours to doze alone-always a treat for a popular courtesan.
She yawned and stood up. Today would be a busy day. Special guests from Rome were due, and Quartilla wanted her to venture down into the market early with some of the house slaves to tote back special food, spices, incense, and aphrodisiacs the mistress of the brothel had ordered to please the new arrivals. Quartilla was usually stingy with every sesterce, but these guests rated the most lavish treatment. Quartillia had called all the girls into her chambers a few days ago and explained that a small party of Roman soldiers, escorting a high court official, were traveling to Baiae to arrange a very private festival for the emperor himself, Nero. Quartilla was beside herself that the brothel had been singled out for attention from the aristocracy of Rome. To think that her house had been picked as a future place for the emperor to spend a few days relaxing and enjoying the entertainment and company of a special group of courtesans to keep him sexually amused! A small band of his right-hand men would be sent ahead a few days before to make all arrangements.
"This," Quartilla had said, while preening in her lavish, polished-metal mirror, which leaned against the wall from floor to ceiling, "is a gift from the goddess Fortuna herself. It will truly put my house of delights on the map. What man would not want a woman who has shared a bed with the emperor?"
And would Psyche herself be one of those women? She shrugged at the thought. Very likely she would be, as her black skin, piercing jet-colored eyes, and luxurious crown of night-dark hair had caused many a Roman cock to rise at the sight of her. But she had not felt caught up in the giggling, breathless excitement the other girls displayed. The emperor had an unsavory reputation, to say the least. Psyche had felt far more interest upon learning that the representative coming to scout the House of Quartilla for his Imperial master would be none other than Gaius Petronius, the Arbiter Elegantiarum of Nero's court, who had written a series of clever bawdy tales that the scroll-sellers down in the town called the Satyricon. Psyche herself haunted the bookstalls constantly-she was a voracious reader, a rare attribute for a courtesan. She enjoyed not only scrolls of poetry and comedic stories, but sequestered herself in her room every chance she got to read and muse over Plato, Aristotle, and Homer.
Quartilla actually encouraged this-the mistress of the brothel was, Psyche thought, flighty and lazy, and delighted to have a courtesan of such formidable intelligence in her house. Quartilla often delegated the plans for revels to Psyche, sitting back herself like a smiling, overstuffed bird to watch and garner the praise for the clever sexual displays concocted by her "Numidian scholar's" fertile imagination.
So Psyche's anticipation for the arrival of the Roman entourage held little excitement about its royal aspects, but much about its literary ones. She felt a secret thrill at the thought of soon meeting Gaius Petronius-and sincerely hoped he wouldn't prove to be a debauched and vacuous dolt. Surely not. The wielder of such a brilliant stylus would surely not disappoint her.
She slipped into a light summer stola, pinning it at her shoulder and allowing the fabric to drape down over her ample curves. Just a practical summer dress for this errand-no need to be the alluring courtesan. She strapped on her sandals and didn't even bother to comb out her wild hair, taming the flying strands with a shawl. She was off then to gather up a small troop of slaves. While there was pink still in the morning sky, she led them out the main archway of Quartilla's, heading for the market.
Once there, she dispatched the house-slaves to pick up various items, while she herself focused on some additional shopping. She always liked to squeeze in her own purchases along with Quartilla's-a sesterce here or there on the house bill would slip by even the sharp-eyed brothel mistress.
She was browsing happily, searching for fruits from her own land that were sometimes brought in on ships traveling from the coast of Africa, but settling for olives and sweet breads, when she saw a group of men riding over the hill that banked the entrance to this small Bay of Naples town.
Citizens in the cobbled streets parted way for the soldiers as they led their horses to water. Many watched, curious to know why the emperor's guard had traveled so far from Rome to this sleepy burg. The leader of the group gave courteous greetings to the fishermen and their wives, who watched from under the arches of nearby buildings. When he dismounted, he stood beside his men and surveyed the town. They nodded in response to pointed directions and, leading their horses, made their way toward the villa Psyche had just left. The curious villagers turned away with knowing glances. It was a given-if they were headed to Quartilla's house of courtesans, there could only one thing they were looking for. Early in the morning for it, but Romans were Romans, and no doubt were in the market for pleasure at any hour.
Psyche stepped back into the shadows as they passed. The sweet, overpowering smell of the wild star jasmine from the merchant's stall beside her, rich and heady, made her breathe deep for a moment. The soldiers rode as if they and their horses were near exhaustion. It was a long journey from Rome. Or at least that was what she had heard. She couldn't claim ever to have traveled to the great city herself, but someday she would. She saved a gold aureus here, a copper as there, and one day she would have enough to go and take in the city. Drink handfuls of crystal clear water that flowed in fountains from distant mountains where the gods surely bathed.
The Romans passed, proud and regal, staring straight ahead as if the people and slaves in the streets did not exist, all except the leader. Petronius...it must be!
He seemed different to her from the other Romans in the traveling party. He had the broad handsome face of an Italian, with thick, curly black hair and cheeks covered in the first few days of a beard. His eyes as he passed seemed to take in everything, as if he were taking notes. He smiled at children who scurried up to touch his white horse.
She watched him as he patted the steed and scratched it behind the ears. There was something about him that she felt drawn to. She had spent time in the company of many distinguished men, but had come away always largely unimpressed. But here under the mid-day sun, she followed this man like a dog hungry for a scrap.
Psyche strolled along behind him at an even gait, away from his peripheral view. She studied him, his strong jaw line and flashing green eyes as he joked in passing with a peddler about the cost of his wares. His voice carried across the courtyard as they left the market and bustling street behind. Psyche watched them as they made their way to the arched gate of the brothel, and there Quartilla herself met them on the stone walkway. She must have had someone watching from one of the high windows to give her warning. Flowers in her hair and a bright red dress on, Quartilla was at her finest and in her element.
Waiting until the men disappeared into the gates, Psyche hurried back to the market to collect the slaves and goods. Her heart beat in her chest like a caged finch, and she wondered what he would be like.

Guest author, Karen Mercury

Who is Karen Mercury?  Karen knew she wanted to be a writer when she was 3.  She sat on her bed gazing at her book, The Bee Man of Orn, thinking "What power there is in creating imaginary worlds!  The reader is automatically transported into a reality that you created.  She hears your characters talking, sees the vistas you painted with words."  Then she realized she had better learn to read.
When Karen was 12, she had a dream of being in a village on the coast of Kenya, so at 23 she bought a one-way plane ticket to Nairobi to find the village.  She climbed the Mountains of the Moon in Rwanda to see mountain gorillas, hitchhiked overland through Egypt, Uganda, Zaire, and Zambia, lived with the Turkana in the Northern Frontier District of Kenya, went down the Congo on a decrepit steamer, and sailed up the Nile on a leaky dhow.
Her first three novels were historical fiction involving precolonial African explorers.  Since she was always either accused or praised (depending how you look at it) for writing overly steamy sex scenes, erotic romance was the natural next step.  She is currently writing about the rough and tumble life of the California gold rush, and lives in Northern California with her Newfoundland dog.




 Interview with Karen Mercury

~What do you think is so attractive about M/M/F ménages?
I've always written M/M/F, before I knew it was an actual genre. Then when it came time to ship the manuscript to the publisher, I'd delete or massively tone down all the homoerotic stuff, leaving it up to the reader to wonder if anything "untoward" had happened. I didn't know such activity was acceptable—and maybe it wasn't, back then. We've come a long way. I think the attraction for women is the rationalization: If one man is exciting, wouldn't two men be doubly as exciting? Then the woman can take a break and kick back when the men pleasure each other. And that's definitely an attractive image. There's not much for the woman to be jealous of if her "rival" is another man. There's simply no comparison, so why would she feel the need to compete? She wouldn't—she would just feel doubly safe and protected. 

~What is your favorite junk food?
Oh, Lordy.  I just discovered this new Ben-n-Jerry's ice cream flavor, Oatmeal Cookie.  I can't get enough.  I mostly lunge for sweets when I'm bad, but sometimes Doritos.  I was on a tiramisu roll lately until I found out it's made with espresso.  One sip of caffeine and I'm awake for DAYS.
~Do you have any series out? If so what is it about?
This year I've been doing an erotic historical western series called Going for the Gold for Siren.  All of the books are set in California's gold rush during the years 1848-1851, so far.  I'm just wrapping one up called Sure as Shooting, about the Mariposa Battalion's search for renegade Indians.  During this campaign they "discovered" the Yosemite Valley.  Writing nature descriptions has never been my forte, and here I have to describe one of the biggest natural wonders of the world.  That was tough.
~If you could go on a date with one of your characters who would it be and what would the date be like?
OK, I know they smelled to high heaven in real life.  Whenever mountain men came into "town" for their annual rendezvous with dead animals on their heads, the smell must've been enough to keep the wolves awake.  But I'm really a sucker for my first Going for the Gold hero, Cormack Bowmaker in Working the Lode.  Of course I cleaned him up and mentioned he was the only mountain man without a dead animal on his head.  I think I like him because I imagined him looking like Damian Lewis from Band of Brothers.  What's not to like?  You don't get much manlier than a guy who traps animals with his bare hands and lives alone for months on end, reading bear and beaver sign while wearing fringed buckskin.
So I imagine a date with him would involve showing him around the modern splendors of San Francisco, drinking Queen Charlottes (raspberry syrup and claret) eating elaborate meals like oxtail soup with lobster sauce and jugged hare.  Whatever that is.  He would be amazed at my yellow satin pelerine, of course.  And he would not be able to resist my hat decorated with real apples and dead pheasants.  Those items would not remain on long, let me tell you.  He would also, therefore, be amazed at my tin bathtub.

~What is your writing day like?
I usually get up before 6AM to take my Newfoundland to daycare.  She loves her school.  Then I hit the keyboard after addressing all emails and shutting down Outlook so it doesn't distract me.  I'm not always successful at shutting down Facebook, though!  I write until about 2 or 3, then start preparing dinner.  I can't just slap at TV dinner on the table.  No, I have to make some fancy thing from scratch every day.
Thank you so much for spending your time with us Karen! To find out more about this wonderful author, check her out below.
http://www.karenmercury.com/index.html     A Good Prospect  Salvador Palomares, Don of a vast California rancho, saves the life of Ophir, a former slave pierced by an Indian arrow. Sal has wasted years in drunken cattle driving and horse racing, and he is surprised when Ophir tells him gold has been discovered, and his land is being invaded by a gang of ruffians determined to banish all Spanish "foreigners."

Sal and Ophir rescue Tamasin, a downtrodden Irish refugee raised in a convent. Their passion for Tamasin creates rivalry between the two partners. Tamasin loves them equally, so the decision to form a ménage cements their bond.

But their empire is threatened by The League, lawless thieves moving in to starve them out of their own mines. The trio's goal is to live in peace. And they fight to the bitter end to reclaim it.
Their love is…a good prospect.

Story 
Excerpt:


"Mr. Palomares!" With shoulders squared, the buffoon addressed Knut.Knut sat up proudly. "How did you know that I am Mr.—" he started to say, but Sal cut him off."I am Don Salvador Palomares," he declared with irritation. Knut looked offended to have not been allowed to be Don Salvador for more than one second. "Who are you, and what is your business?""Mr. McCarthy says you should proceed to the Legislature of a Thousand Drinks, and meet with him there." The thug reversed his direction and lumbered back down the street.Ophir shrugged. "I guess we should follow. Although what will we do with Tamasin while we're having this confab? We can't very well leave her in the street with these ruffians.""No, not at all. And Knut will turn into a crybaby if we try to leave him out. I suppose we should take her in with us.""If this place really does have a thousand drinks, she could amuse herself with some aguardiente.  Didn't it seem strange that lout immediately knew who you were, as though we were expected here?"The thuggish fellow vanished into one of the many buildings that had been built in the past couple of months. There was no sign out front, and no drunks were describing zigzag Virginia fences in and out the door, so it couldn't be an ordinary grog shop."Maybe it is sort of an office building, such as we are building in Bear Valley?" Knut suggested when several efficient Americans leaped forward to take their reins.  "But I would really like to know more about these thousand drinks."The interior proved to be a large room about twenty feet long, a wide array of different rickety tables and chairs lit by whale oil lamps. Indeed there was a rough oak bar and a barkeep who wasn't very busy, as there were only three men seated at a center table, so Knut made a beeline for one of the many drinks he was assured were there, taking Tamasin with him.The two partners approached the center table, and Tyke McCarthy removed his threadbare, misshapen hat. Apparently for one who styled himself the alcalde of this burg, he couldn't afford a better hat. "Mr. Palomares," he sneered. He did not extend his hand. "Last time we met, you introduced me to an oak tree and stole some of my workers."Salvador placed his sombrero on the greasy table, and nodded guardedly. "Yes, I did. California is a free state, and workers are free to go wherever the pay and the treatment is the best.""Well, and thank you for asking me how my head is doing. I see you've brought your contingent with you—a colored slave"—he looked Ophir up and down as though he were a steaming pile of cow's entrails—"and your Swedish manservant, as well as a…""Yes, this is my partner, Ophir, as I introduced you before," Sal said quickly, as Tyke's eyeballs were already glazing over with a prurient appetite at the sight of Tamasin. Sal did, however, extend his hand to the stranger wearing an extremely wide-brimmed felt hat. "And you might be…?"The small-eyed fellow shook his hand, but said guardedly, "Thomas Jefferson Green." The anti-greaser slave-owner narrowed his tiny eyes at Sal. Sal had a feeling this meeting would not go well. The third member of the meeting was the burly enforcer. No one introduced him, and no one was sitting down.Sal said, "We're here to discuss collecting rents, and the loss of many of my cattle.""Oh, is that so?" Tyke laughed and raised his empty glass in the direction of the barkeep. "Sam, a round of whiskeys all around.""No, thank you," said Ophir."Thank you, no," Sal echoed. "Some water would be nice.""Water?" scoffed Tyke. He laughed with his partner, Mr. Green. It was a gruesome sight in one so slimy and repugnant. Sal certainly didn't want to have to look at his corroded teeth again. "Have you ever seen anyone drink water in these parts, Tom Jeff?"Tom Jeff shared Tyke's amusement, and his teeth weren't nearly as noisome. "Maybe Mr. Palomares is so interested in water because he's fixing to steal all the Merced water for his own operations upriver."Sal frowned. "Steal? You can hardly steal water, Mr. Green. If anything, you're stealing it from me, as I own this entire part of the river."Tom Jeff's face reddened and Tyke cut him off in a show of forced jollity. "And maybe that's why he wants a glass of it back, Tom Jeff. Now, here's Mr. Frostad, how are you, my fine fellow? I see you don't consider yourself above drinking our whiskey."Knut gestured with his whiskey glass. "Jah, Mr. McCarthy, I find it most interesting to compare the different vintages of whiskey from one part of this country to another—"Tyke nearly bowled over his chair in his attempts to greet Tamasin, who had been hiding behind Knut, soaking her lips in her whiskey glass. "And who might I have the pleasure of greeting?" he said slimily, while Tamasin yanked her hand away from his paw.Salvador stepped to Tamasin's side, insinuating himself bodily between Tyke and his paramour. "She is nobody, she is our housemaid." Already he intended to apologize later to Tamasin for that remark, but he didn't want Tyke paying undue attention to her. He took her by the upper arm and led her to an empty chair while saying, "Now, we have business to discuss. Knut here has taken my survey of my land, and filed it in San José—""As California Land Case Number One!" Knut pointed out with alacrity."—so it's only a matter of time before my ownership is acknowledged. Most everyone in and around Mariposa and Bear Valley has agreed to pay rent for the use of my land in their mining operations. Now you, as alcalde"—Sal loathed bestowing Tyke with that moniker, but flattery would help in this instance—"have the power to persuade people around Hornitos to follow. Knut, show him the claim you filed."As he shuffled around in his purse, Knut remarked, "Why do they call this building the Legislature of a Thousand Drinks? It does not appear to be an ordinary grog shop, more of a headquarters for your League.""Ah, that's easy," Tyke replied happily. "Tom Jeff Green here has served in three Southern legislatures. He had a mighty idea to come to California from Texas and use slaves to grow cotton.""Which is why he was ejected from the Yuba River," Ophir mentioned.Tyke ignored Ophir. "So Mr. Green here is going back to San José to run for state senator. He has a splendid saloon there known as the Legislature of a Thousand Drinks, so we started up this one here."Sal frowned. "And what is your business in Hornitos then, Mr. Green? Shouldn't you be in San José trying to win office?"
ADULT EXCERPT
That Ophir stood behind him, urgently rotating the head of his massive cock against Sal's ass, only increased his rapture. To finally glide his cock up her slick, hot passage was enough to bring him off instantly, and to watch her ass rotate and wiggle with pleasure was a treat he'd never experienced.   He was afraid of hurting her at first, thinking perhaps she'd been assaulted in the past. It was an arrogant thought that his penis was overly large, but once he was lodged against the final extremity of her passage, Sal tried to move slower. It was as though her cunt had sucked him in, like the mouth of one of those meat-eating flowers! The sucking and clenching of it compelled him on, the walls of her inner twat gripping and munching at his prick as though it had some masterly, adept life of its own.   When Ophir unclothed his own cock and rubbed the hot crown of it against Sal's ass, his balls filled to their maximum and drew up close to his body. He had to still himself while Tamasin whimpered for more. Ophir dipped his fingers into a bowl of what was apparently manteca, and Sal could tell by the rigorous motions of Ophir's bicep that he was slathering it onto his prick. Ophir's bawdy murmurings only served to heighten Sal's impending orgasm.   "That's good, Sal, real good. Keep it up, keep pounding your wife. Isn't she beautiful all spread out like that? Doesn't it make your long…thick…juicy cock just want to erupt inside of her?"   "Oh, ay dios, sí, Ophir…" Sal muttered nonsensically. Yes to what? To the achingly exquisite sight of Tamasin with spread legs leaning forward on the bed, or to what Ophir was planning to do with the manteca?   When Ophir's greasy fingers probed his asshole, smearing the unctuous butter up to his first knuckle inside of him, Sal had to slow his pumping until he was nearly stopped. This made Tamasin mewl with need, so Sal picked her up by the hips and launched her on all fours onto the bed, where he remained crouched over and into her.   "Ah!" she cried, and seemed to like this subservient position where her hungry quim could feel every nuance and slight motion of his penis. When he flexed his cock inside of her, she gasped and jumped, and he knew he could control her orgasm by the movements of his fingers against her clitoris.   Ophir positioned the giant mushroom head of his prick against Sal's asshole, and Sal's thighs quivered with anticipation and a bit of fear. He'd never been speared before, much less with an enormous appendage like Ophir's, but he relaxed into the warm grip of Ophir's steadying hand on his hip, and Ophir's licentious words helped calm his trepidation at being invaded like that.   "I'm going to fuck you, Sal, my love, my love." The bulging crown of Ophir's prick breached the tight ring of his ass, sending a flood of jism up the underside of Sal's penis. "Feel yourself inside of Tamasin. Feel her cunt squeezing your fat, luscious cock." Ophir gave a swift little jab with his prick and he was halfway buried inside Sal. "You're inside your wife, the woman you love. And the man who loves you is buggering your firm, fleshy ass. Good God, Sal." He slapped Sal's ass with such a loud snap the guests downstairs might have heard it, had Knut not commenced to caterwauling on Ophir's fiddle. "That's right, my big bull of a man. Feel my cock filling you. I'm gonna fill you with loads of my hot jism." Another slap. "You like this? Tell me you like it. Tell me you like being bumfucked by my giant, meaty horse cock."   Sal was so choked up, trying to hold in roars of intense excitement, he could only answer Ophir in monosyllables. "Sí," he squeaked. "Fuck me, Ophir. Fuck me. With your. Giant prick."   When Ophir commenced to driving nearly the entire length of his prick in and out of Sal's asshole, Sal couldn't hold back. The view of Tamasin's pure white shoulder blades, so delicate like a bird's, was enough to send him over the edge. He remembered to pet her clitoris, knowing by the slick bulging that she would soon be squirting her feminine juices all over his hand. He loved that, particularly when she gushed against his mouth, and he tasted and supped her juice.   "Good God, Sal." Ophir bit the tender flesh at the side of his neck as he pumped into him. "You are one. Big. Delicious morsel of ass."

Guest author, Seleste Delaney

Tasty Tidbits
-If you could be any animal what would it be? A wolf. I've always been fascinated by wolves and their "culture". Pack hierarchy and the focus on what is essentially a family unit is something many of us, as humans, could learn from.
-What is your favorite color?I love the blue that the sky turns right before dawn where it's more like black just kissed with blue than either of the colors alone.
-How many pieces of jewelry do you wear on a daily basis?On a daily basis, usually just a ring. My wedding ring broke several years ago, and my husband replaced it, but depending on whether I'm home or traveling, I have a couple inexpensive rings that I will wear instead (for fear of losing or damaging the new one).
-Have you ever gone commando (no underwear)?Ever? Yes, but I think I've only done it the one time. I had a rather strict, "proper" upbringing, and I'm still trying to overcome some of my own issues regarding sexuality. I know, it's funny answer from someone who periodically writes erotica, but in some ways I'm still haunted by conservative attitudes regarding sex. Fortunately, I'm getting over them one step at a time.
-What is your favorite junk food?This is a really hard question for me. I know I shouldn't eat junk food, but I love it…a lot of it. If I had to pick my biggest weaknesses, I'd have to say pizza and ice cream. I've more or less cut pizza out of my diet other than special occasions, but ice cream… *dies*
Wait.
Vodka's not a junk food, is it?

Interview with Seleste
-Do you think there is a difference between making love and having sex?Yes and no. I see making love as a subset of having sex. To me, any type of intercourse is sex, but making love requires an emotional connection. I'm not one of those people who thinks making love has to be all soft and gentle, but it does require love. You can fuck and make love at the same time. Fucking is also a subset of sex, one that can intersect with other subsets. (I love releasing my inner math nerd :P)

-Do you have any series out? If so what is it about?I have a few.
I'm currently working on the follow-up to my steampunk romance, Badlands, and it will hopefully be in the hands of my editor before the end of summer. The series takes place in an alternate-history America that Civil War has divided into four nations: the United States, the Confederate States, Texas, and the Badlands. The Badlands is essentially the US's penal colony, and it's run by a matriarchal monarchy.
My first published story (Of Course I Try) was the first in my Blood Kissed series. It's erotic urban fantasy revolving around vampires and this woman, Jocelyn, who is the Blood Kissed, someone considered by most in the vampire population to be nothing more than a myth.
And most recently, I signed a contract with Evernight Publishing for a story called GunShy, which is the first in what will (hopefully) be a multi-author series (tentatively called Cupid's Conquests). The basic premise of the series is that Eros/Cupid has been banished from Olympus to the mortal realm to "fix" love and romance. Each story will revolve around one match that he makes.
-If you could go on a date with one of your characters who would it be and what would the date be like?That's a very hard question because most of my heroes are in love with my heroines, so dating them would be rather counter-productive. However, if I pretend for a minute that wasn't the case, I'd want to go out with them all at least once!
Seriously though, my heart would be torn between the vampires in my Blood Kissed series. If fate could somehow mush them all together into one guy, I'd be in my own personal heaven. To finish the question, I'll just pick one and go with Chad (mainly because the date is clear in my head). He'd start off by taking me to a nice dinner, someplace expensive enough to show off his money, but not so expensive as to make me uncomfortable. We'd sit in a nice quiet corner with candlelight and have fabulous conversation. Then, he'd take me out dancing and during that time the whole polite dinner persona would disappear, and by the end of the night we'd be back at his place with me tied to the bed. Since I'm not Jocelyn, I'd probably be dead by morning, but it would totally be worth it.
-Do you write about life experiences? If so was there a particular one that you incorporated into a story you wrote?I can't say I've written about any specific life experiences intentionally, but all sorts of things I've gone through are reflected in my writing. The first novel I finished involved a rape scene. I was date-raped in college, and that scene was one of the hardest things I've ever written. In the end though it was very therapeutic for me. I was able to not only work through a lot of the pent up rage, but also I finally got to deal with the emotional pain.
-Where do you see yourself in five years?Still writing, that's for sure! I'd love to be in both traditional print and epublishing. By then, I see myself as an established author with a very loyal fan base who sing my praises and count the days to my new releases.
Hey, a girl has to have dreams, right?


Where to find Seleste Delaney on the web
Website: http://selestedelaney.com/
Blog: http://selestedelaney.com/wordpress/
Twitter: http://twitter.com/SelestedeLaney
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100001203081398

Find some of Seleste Delaney's stories below.

Available from www.carinapress.com
  Read an excerpt HERE 


Available NOW fromwww.evernightpublishing.com
Read excerpt HERE


Available NOWwww.decadentpublishing.com   Read excerpt HERE

Available NOW from www.decadentpublishing.com
Read excerpt HERE

Guest author: Lee Ann Sontheimer Murphy

Guest author: Lee Ann  Sontheimer Murphy


Tasty Tidbits

-What is your writing day like?It starts early and ends late.  I get up early with my husband – who has to be at work by 5:30am so that I can get some writing time before my three kids rise.   Then I balance between my parental responsibilities, housework, and writing.   The first thing that I do is take care of details – check emails etc.
-How many pieces of jewelry do you wear on a daily basis?Two rings, earrings, one necklace, one watch….four.
-What is your favorite junk food?I love popcorn.  I'm more of a salty than a sweet girl and I like popcorn in any about form, buttered, cheese, etc.
-What is your favorite movie?Hmm…hard question because I love movies.  I'll go with my most recent favorite "Water For Elephants".  I love the book and the movie didn't disappoint although they left a lot out.  It had such beautiful cinematography, though, and captured the flavor of the novel that I loved it.
-Who is your favorite musician/s?I have very eclectic music tastes – on a regular basis I listen to Mary O'Hara, Tommy Makem, Johnny Horton, the Eagles, Credence Clearwater Revival, Evanesence, and Breaking Benjamin.  There are days when I listen to Glenn Miller and days when I want Ozzy Osborne.


Interview with Lee Ann

-Do you think there is a difference between making love and having sex?Yes, there is a huge one.  Sex is just for the physical pleasure and gratification which can be good, even very good.  But making love involves the emotions so much more that it becomes a much greater experience.  It's kind of like there is eating at McDonald's and then there's eating at a fine restaurant.  -Do you have any series out? If so what is it about?I have my Love Covenant series from Evernight.  Book three just came out this past week.  It's about a truck driving Irish vampire who lives near Memphis and his Texas gal singer lady Cara.  In book one, Love Tattoo, they meet and fall in love.  In the second  novel, Love Scars, Cara realizes that happy endings are not necessarily guaranteed even if you're undead and that she'll do whatever it takes to get one.   In the new book, Love Knots, Will and Cara head out in search of his brother who he's just learned – after two hundred or so years – is also a vampire.  I'm working on book 4, Love Shadows now.  The books are all told in first person from Cara's point of view and as long as she keeps talking, I'll keep writing their story.
-Do you have a favorite character/s you've written about? If so why are they your favorite?I just sold a historical romance with some paranormal elements to Rebel Ink Press called Guy's Angel.  It's set in 1925 in my hometown of St. Joseph, Missouri.  Guy Richter, the hero and his little flapper girlfriend who wants to learn to fly, Lorraine (nicknamed "Angel") just crawled into my heart to stay.  I had a hard time wrapping up that story because I hated not to spend time with them each day.  So it would be Guy and Angel.
-Do you write about life experiences? If so was there a particular one that you incorporated into a story you wrote?I add a lot of life experiences into my writing, sometimes changed almost beyond recognition, sometimes not.  In the Love Covenant series, Cara starts out most chapters with a memory.  One is watching a tornado in the distance with her uncle.  That one is based on a real life incident from my childhood.  My Uncle Raymond lived up on top of a Missouri river bluff and we watched a tornado form in the clouds, scary and yet fascinating. 
-Where do you see yourself in five years?A  year ago, after just signing my first novel contact, I couldn't have imagined what I would be doing now so it's hard to imagine the future.  I hope that in five years, however, that I am well-established as an author with a good combination of both eBooks and traditional print books.  By then, I hope to have found some solid financial security.


Want to win one of Lee Ann's stories? Find out how below.
I will give away one copy of the winner's choice of any of the Love Covenant books if they leave a comment (and please leave an e-mail so I can get in touch with them).

Where to find Lee Ann at on the web
My blog – A Page In The Life  http://leeannsontheimermurphywriterauthor.blogspot.com

Check out the links below to find out where you can find this authors works. http://www.evernightpublishing.com/products/Love-Knots-by-Lee-Ann-Sontheimer-Murphy.html
http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/76761
http://www.amazon.com/Love-Knots-Covenant-ebook/dp/B005EM9MUI/ref=sr_1_13?ie=UTF8&qid=1311779136&sr=8-13http://1placeforromance.com/vampires-/-werewolves/love-knots/prod_5065.html
http://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-loveknots-578762-139.html






Love Covenant Series, 3
After surviving the wrath of a wicked she-vampire bent on revenge, Will and Cara Brennan have a new task – finding Will's brother that Sallie Hawkins made a vampire centuries ago.  Both bear the scars of their battle but they're glad to be alive and together.

Cara wants to find the only family Will has in this world and so they set out on a search for Seamus that takes them from Memphis to the rough bars of Oklahoma, Las Vegas casinos, to Hollywood Boulevard and to New Orleans.  Along the way, their love deepens and the sensual connection they share heightens.

Whether or not they find Seamus isn't the only issue – they have no way of knowing whether he has gone wicked or if he's an average vamp like them.   The journey defines their love as the story begun in Love Tattoo, advanced in Love Scars, and continues in Love Knots.

Excerpt
"It's part of the surprise," he said. "Come, mo ghra."We walked away from the highway, leaving the parking area far behind us, and onto the beach. Above us, the February sky sparkled with ten thousand stars, each one radiant and bright. A full-bellied moon rose in the east, promising to bathe us in its rich, silvery light if we remained here long enough. The wind that wafted ashore rippled across the water and ruffled my hair, cooler than Will's fingers. Anyone else, meaning someone human, would probably have shivered but it felt refreshing to me, clear and clean and good.My bare toes squished in the damp sand and I liked the feel of it, not icy but still cold. We went right down to the edge of the water where the waves sluiced up onto the beach, gentle for now. I stood, staring at the infinite ocean as it swept out to the farthest horizon, as far west as I could see, spread out north to south as well. The night sky stretched above me, just as endless and vast. I felt so small and yet not insignificant at all but empowered. If I needed a visual to define eternal, to paint a picture of what an everlasting love that I shared with Will, then there could be none better than this moment. I stared; eyes open wide and made a mental image, a brain snapshot to last forever, something to keep and remember always.I wanted to sweep all of it into my arms, to embrace the ceaseless space, the immeasurable beauty, and the ageless wonder of the sea, the sky by night. I have no idea how long I stood there as the waves washed up around my feet, silent and yet filled with more emotion than I could ever select words to express but Will stood beside me, just as quiet, my hand clasped in his. We were part of this and we remained one. When I turned to him, eyes brimming with joyful tears, heart overflowing with love, he faced me and with his own eyes shimmering with moisture, he spoke words now familiar to me because he used them before.Now, however, the beautiful poetry resonated with even more meaning for us both,"And yet I wish but for the thing I have, my bounty is as boundless as the sea, my love as deep; the more I give to thee, the more I have for both are infinite."The immensity of his love overwhelmed me, the power more enormous than anything, greater than any man made wonder. The scope of it stretched beneath the timeless stars, the wonder of it expanded through whatever heart I possessed, and brimmed over to flood my soul. What I had with Will Brennan, I thought, was worth all I gave up to claim it and whatever I might face at the end of time; I could because of this love.The truth of that sang in my soul, a greater, stronger song that any I ever attempted to sing before. I wished I knew as much poetry as he did, Shakespeare or otherwise, but instead, the words that came into my mouth came, as usual, from a song. Suzi Quatro and Chris Norman did a song that I loved back in the late 1970's, vintage but with lyrics I loved so I sang some of them to Will now,"Our love is alive and so it begins, foolishly laying our hearts on the table, stumbling in, our love is a flame, burning within."He opened his arms to me, as broad and open as the vast panorama of water, wind, and sky spread out around us and I walked into them. I came home into his embrace and all the emotion, strong and potent, welled up in me and exploded so that I wept in his arms. I sobbed not with sadness but with immeasurable joy, rich feelings too volatile to contain. He wept, too, for I felt the rain of his tears, the tremors of his body against mine. After we spent our emotions, poured them into one another, we sat down on the sand, wrapped together and listened to the wondrous night music of God.After a long time, secure in our contented silence, he kissed me, soothing and so sweet that I almost wept again. Will brushed the remaining tears from my face with a gentle finger."I take it you liked my surprise," he said, voice soft beneath the pounding thunder of the waves."Oh, yeah," My voice, hoarse from tears, came out in a croak but I didn't care and knew he would not either. "What's in the basket?""Oh, this and that," Will told me with such careful nonchalance that I knew the contents would be amazing. "Some wines, some cheeses, and such."The such included smoked salmon, gourmet crackers, olives imported from France, chocolate covered cherries, brie, and much more along with two lovely wine glasses. So we sat on the beach as the moon climbed high into the sky, bathing us with amazing silver light, drinking fine vintage wine as we snacked. Every moment tasted as savory as the gourmet finger food and contentment made me purr within like a satisfied cat. I dreamed of some intimate romantic moments when I suggested our getaway but this exceeded any expectation I might have imagined; this felt like perfection.Moonlight glittered across my rings and I held out my hand, admiring them for their beauty but what mattered most to me was not the diamonds but the meaning. Will can be a romantic man and we shared many sweet moments but this night stood out, a once in a lifetime magic interlude that neither one of us could ever forget. There would be many more beautiful spaces in our existence but this one would remain unique to us both.
Other Books in the Love Covenant Series:Book 1: Love TattooBook 2: Love Scars

Guest author, Jianne Carlo

Who is Jianne Carlo?
-What is your writing day like?
I wake up every morning at 4:30 – I know it's crazy. But I  had three sons in less than 5 years, and after a while early morning before everyone woke up was the only time I could call my own. I write from 4:30 to 7:30, then the day job takes over. If the dh is watching sports (the only thing he doesn't follow is basketball), I write and keep an eye on the game for a couple of hours after dinner.
-If you could be any animal what would it be?
This will show my age, but did you ever see those Esso Tiger in a Tank ads? I fell in love with big cats from the minute I first saw that ad. I lived in Trinidad at the time and we didn't have a tiger until I was about 9. We received a pair who mated and had cubs, and the mother rejected one. The vet I volunteered at was charged with taking care of the rejected cub, and I fed the gorgeous cat until he was weaned. Amazing.
-What is your favorite color?
White.
-What is your shoe size?
5
-How many pieces of jewelry do you wear on a daily basis?
I feel naked without earrings, a necklace, and at least one bracelet. Can't stand rings though.
-Have you ever gone commando (no underwear)?
Long before there was a term for it J
-Do you think there is a difference between making love and having sex?
Oh yeah. And I think it's possible to do both with the same man, and regularly do so J
-What is your current project?
I'm working on two books:
The Demon Seed – a contemporary, multicultural, suspense, with BDSM elements
The Seducer and The Concubine's Daughter – an erotic Viking tale
-Do you have any series out? If so what is it about?
I am working on two series right now – The Viking Warriors and The Hades Squad
Viking Warriors is about five brothers who serve King Cnut and are rewarded for their loyalty and bravery with wives who, in most cases, they've never met. Book#3 in this series The Peacemaker was released in June.
The Hades Squad are a band of ex-SEAL paratroopers who own a security firm specializing in maritime security. Because they performed as the Hades Squad, each of them have a 'devil' nickname: Devil, Demon, Lucifer, Sinner, and Satan. Deviant Devil, the third book in the series comes out on August 23rd from Loose-Id.
-Why did you choose your particular publisher/s to go with?
My first book was accepted by three publishers and won a publishing contest, but I really loved one editor that I had been working with during revisions and ultimately went with Loose-Id for Manacled in Monaco. That editor, by the way, was the fabulous Georgia Woods.
My other publishers invited me to write for them.
- Do you have a day job? If so what do you do?
A very hectic day job - I implement financial computer systems for a major, major, software publisher

Jianne Carlo Contest!!!!
Right now I'm trying to decide between two designs for my revamped website. They're both posted on my blog at www.jiannecarlo.com
I need input.
Anyone who comments on the blog on their preference (either Option#1 or Option#2) will be entered in a contest to win a copy of The Viking Warriors Books released to date: The Bear and The Bride, The Dragon Slayer, and The Peacemaker.

Where can you find Jianne Carlo at?
www.jiannecarlo.com



Contact Info and Buy Links for The Peacemaker
Website and Blog: www.jiannecarlo.com
Buy Links: Amazon ARe   B&N   Etopia  Price: $3.99 Length: Novella Genre: Erotic Historical, m/f

Guest author, Rachel Clark

-What is your writing day like? I wish I had a routine, but family life has a way with messing with the best laid plans. Fortunately, I don't sleep very often so I can write in the middle of the night with minimal disruption. J
-What is your favorite color? Purple, which is rather ironic considering the sex scenes I write are anything but. LOL
-What is your shoe size? Shhhh, I have very big feet. Big enough that it's hard to buy shoes off the sales rack. Fortunately, since I spend a lot of my time writing, I'm usually wearing slippers. *grins*
-How many pieces of jewelry do you wear on a daily basis? None. I have the type of skin that makes the jewelry go black and my skin look bruised. It's not a pretty sight.
-What is your favorite movie? I have lots and lots of favorite movies, but the one that tickled me the most is "Junior" – Arnold Schwarzenegger pregnant made me laugh so hard I fell off the sofa.


-Do you think there is a difference between making love and having sex? Definitely. I occasionally read erotica but I find erotic romance far more appealing. The characters need to have an emotional connection for me to enjoy their story.
-What is your current project? I am currently working on another yeti story J and trying to finish a couple of other projects that I started a while ago.
-Do you have a favorite character/s you've written about? If so why are they your favorite?  My favorite character is one I wrote a long time ago. Sarah from Sarah's Pirate is the type of kick-ass heroine I enjoy writing and because the story is sci-fi I got to give her some really cool skills with futuristic weapons and technology and an attitude to back it up. Her poor hubby is still shrugging his shoulders in disbelief.
-If you could go on a date with one of your characters who would it be and what would the date be like? Hmmm…Edwina has seven men who shapeshift into yummy yetis (Very handy when it's cold.) Could I maybe order pizza and stay in with them all? LOL
-Where do you see yourself in five years? LOL I try not to plan that far ahead. Considering that I never know what's going to happen in the next five minutes it seems a sensible thing to avoid.
Thank you Rachel for taking the time to take part in this interview. If you want to learn more about Rachel Clark, check out where she is at on the web below: http://rachelclark.webs.com/
http://rachelclarkeroticromance.blogspot.com/


 Edwina and the Seven Snowed-in Scientists

Guest author, Berengaria Brown

Who is Berengaria Brown?
-What is your writing day like?Unfortunately, like most authors I have a day job, so I answer emails and read a few blogs, visit a few chat loops first thing in the morning, then again in the evening. Evenings, weekends, and holidays are when I write. I always have my laptop with me and have been known to make a few notes of plot points or ideas as they come to me during the day.
-Do you have a favorite author/s?Georgette Heyer got me started reading romance, especially historicals, and Jaid Black introduced me to erotic romance.
-What is your favorite color?Green.
-Have you ever gone commando (no underwear)?Of course. Frequently.
-What is your favorite junk food?Chocolate.
-Do you think there is a difference between making love and having sex?Absolutely. Having sex is scratching an itch. It may be extremely enjoyable, and the orgasms may be excellent, but the heart is not involved. It's all about lust.Making love is about the emotions and the heart. It is deeply and profoundly fulfilling, whether or not an orgasm results from it.
-What is your current project?I have just sold the third and final book in a new series to Siren BookStrand. This series was a new venture for me. I have created a hidden, underground world where all the brothers capture and marry a shared woman. The series is called, "Possessive Passion", and the first book, "Shared Possession", is releasing in July.
-Do you have any series out? If so what is it about?I have a series out at Siren Bookstrand, called "Forever Yours". All three books are in a paperback called "Forever Yours", and each is available as a separate ebook. It's set in the Smith Tower office and apartment block in the city, and each story is a separate MMF romance. They are contemporary-set stories with paranormal elements. "Intensity" and "Complexity" have a ghost in them. "Eternity" has two vampires as the heroes.
-Why did you choose your particular publisher/s to go with?I wrote a book and researched very carefully where to send it. I sent it to a publisher that has many books similar to mine. While I was waiting to hear back from that publisher, I wrote a second book. This one was a bit different, so I sent it to a different publishing house, one which published many books like this one. Since I write across several different genres, I've ended up with several different publishers.
-Where do you see yourself in five years?On the New York Times best seller list of course!
Where can you find Berengaria Brown at?
I have a blog which I update several times per week: http://berengariasblog.blogspot.com/ I have a website with all my beautiful book covers: http://berengariabrown.webs.com/ Friend me on Facebook, follow me on Twitter.
Check out what is new from Berengaria Brown!
"Rose's Renaissance"



Rose is at the swimming pool, unhappily completing physiotherapy after breaking her leg, when she meets up with a very attractive man she saw at rehab, Oliver. Unfortunately Oliver is in a gay partnership with Kieran, an equally attractive man. Oliver and Kieran take a liking to Rose, do their swimming pool exercises together, and then go out for dinner. Dinner leads them back to Oliver and Kieran's house where the evening ends very satisfactorily for all of them, in bed.But Rose's leg is not healing properly and extra measures—measures she sincerely dislikes—have to be taken. And what will happen about her growing romance with the two men?
PG13 Excerpt Rose's insides were a tightly coiled ball of need. Every word, every look, every touch of these two guys was sending her tensions spiraling higher and higher. They even made eating a sex act. One would glance at her, maybe raise an eyebrow or lick a lip, and Rose's heart would miss a beat. Her underwear was sopping wet, she was so ready for either or both of them.Oliver was chattier, had lighter moods, was more likely to laugh. Kieran was more serious, a little dominating, but his smile was deadly, and the way he raised one eyebrow and just looked at her was devastating.It was all she could do not to fling herself across the table into their arms and beg them to take her here and now in the restaurant. If they simply said goodbye and left her in the parking lot, she would die of unrelieved sexual tension for sure.
But just then both Oliver and Kieran reached out over the table and gripped one of her hands.
"Come home with us tonight?"
"We don't want the evening to end just yet."
"And I'm sure we can find some things to do that will not put stress on your leg or Oliver's," added Kieran with a naughty grin.
"Thank God! I-I-I mean, yes, of course," stammered Rose, once again blushing fiery red when she saw the grins on both their faces. Nervously, she pushed her glasses up her nose again.
They walked back to the swimming pool parking lot with Rose tucked up hard between the guys. Oliver had his arm over her shoulders and Kieran's hand was around her waist. They stopped at her car, and Kieran pulled her into his arms for a fierce kiss. His tongue plunged into her mouth as his hips ground against hers, his cock a hard ridge against her belly, leaving her in no doubt at all about his plans for that evening.
Oliver tapped Kieran on the shoulder.
"My turn now," he said, and slipped his hands over Rose's butt to pull her against him. Another hot, hard cock pressed into her as he kissed her forehead, her eyelids, her nose, oh so gently.
"Tonight will be very, very good for you, I promise," he whispered in her ear as he pulled away.Rose collapsed into her car, her knees too wobbly to hold her up for another moment. She took a deep breath, then slid her key into the ignition. Tonight looked like being something truly special. And she wanted it. She wanted them.
Buy Link: http://www.torquerebooks.com/index.ph...