Delilah Devlin's Blog, page 28
February 3, 2025
Liza Collins: Having the Heart for Medical Romance (Contest)
Readers still love their niches, and medical romance is still an incredibly popular one — even though expectations have changed considerably. I know! You’re thinking — surely not. Readers like to read within their niche because they know what they like, and they don’t like change. Maybe you’re a medical romance reader, and you know the genre upside-down and back-to-front, and I bet you do, too. There are still the same markers and expectations medical romance writers are expected to hit, and that’ll always be true — whether it’s a small-town sweet romance within a doctor’s surgery or a fast-paced city-hospital romance that bares all. But the genre has changed in one incredible way, and that is…it’s gotten hotter.
Way, way hotter.
You must have noticed it yourself. We’re talking medical romance meets erotica; there’s a story without the sex, but the sex is the cherry on top. We’re seeing every aspect of our medical staff; all those unprofessional moments of lust, of kisses in the medicine room, romps in the break room, moments that were traditionally fade-to-black. Thank you, Grey’s Anatomy! I fully expect it myself when I read medical romances, and I actually feel something is missing when I don’t find enough of it. Like all genres within romance, we’ve gotten much bolder with the spicy elements — we proudly call it smut, right?
But for medical romance, this is a big deal. My first introduction to medical romance as a genre was — like many — via those pocket Mills and Boon books, which are still going strong today with the die-hard subscribers who receive a handful of books in the mail every month. They’re eaten up like Smarties — and they’re definitely sexier than they used to be. When it comes to self-published medical romances, however — it isn’t even the same ball game anymore. The indie writers — who of course started as medical romance readers — knew what was missing. We knew what we wanted. Now, they’re delivering medical smut in spades — and I’m proud to say, I am too.
Lovers of sweet romances may not think it’s their cup of tea, and that’s okay. I think medical romance readers who prefer the fast-paced, heart-stopping city hospital stories — as opposed to the sweet small-town ones I mentioned — might like a little more action in the round. This is medical romance, after all. We like details. The spicy elements are desired in equal measure with the trauma, the patient cases, and those high-octane medical emergencies that have us rapidly turning the pages.
Many writers of the genre are themselves nurses, doctors, paramedics, carers, admins, staff of all disciplines. Personally, I’m an experienced patient (huge congrats on your treatment success, Delilah!) I’ve spent weeks upon weeks in hospital, endured several major surgeries — including open abdominal surgery — and years on medications to treat a dangerous condition. Countless procedures for all kinds of things. For a time, hospital was my second home, and I loved to watch everybody around me work. I even had the privilege of being a guinea-pig for student doctors in their exam, where they were tasked with examining me and diagnosing my condition. Staying in a London hospital, with St. Paul’s Cathedral outside my window, wasn’t all that bad, because the staff made me so comfortable.
I guess you could say that those difficult days were the first kernels of inspiration. My experiences made me feel much more comfortable writing about the genre. I developed a fascination with the different professions I came into contact with, and I began to read medical memoirs voraciously. Lucky for me, these memoirs became suddenly very popular, and I could read everything from brain surgery to forensic pathology and forensic anthropology. I saw the humans behind the profession, including their personal failings, mistakes, relationship problems, you name it. It’s no wonder medical romance is hugely popular today — there are so many variables, so many opportunities for relationships to blossom, and so many wild ways for that to happen!
My first attempt at medical romance was within a three-book-series called Professionals Gone Wild. I wrote about a financier’s son, a barrister, and a neurosurgeon. All books were received well by reviewers, but the medical romance one was by far the one I most enjoyed, the one best reviewed, and it was the best-seller of the three. I realized, then, that I was being given a pretty clear sign — I needed to fine-tune my genre-writing skills, lean hard into the medical niche, and really go for it.
In three weeks, I wrote The Nurse and the Neonatal Surgeon, the first of my London children’s hospital series of spicy medical romances. Writing about two medical heroes falling in love on the neonatal unit was not an easy start, let me tell you — but the readers really loved it. Even my worst review — and there aren’t many of those, thankfully — states that they still enjoyed the patient cases involving the babies, even when the love story wasn’t for them. I take that as a win, because not only is medical romance difficult to get right, but neonatal surgery was a very tough balancing act.
How to give detail, without giving too much detail? How to include heart-wrenching aspects without upsetting the reader so much that they put the book down? The fact is, I wanted to go there, and write something I loved and found meaningful — but doing so without overstepping the mark or going too far was like walking a tight-rope in some respects.
Maybe it’s because I’m a mother myself now, and because I’ve experienced loss in the past — like many of us — but I felt it was a task I was up to. I decided my old-fashioned-style titles — my nod to the old pocket-books I talked about — was a good way to let the reader know exactly what medical scenarios they’d be encountering. If a reader isn’t comfortable with reading about a neonatal unit, then they know immediately that this book won’t be for them. The same goes for the second in the series (all stand-alones with cameos, references to each other, etc.) The Intern and the Plastic Surgeon. If a reader isn’t comfortable reading about craniofacial surgery in detail, or who finds the subject difficult for any reason, they know what they’re getting before they buy or download.
I’m now releasing the third in the series, The Intern and the Orthopaedic Surgeon, TODAY! This one is the spiciest yet; an opposites-attract, teacher-student story with BDSM-flavours and, of course, medical details and patient cases. Gabriel Grant is my favourite medical hero of the series so far. He’s like Peter Steele meets Gideon Cross in appearance, but with Peter Steele’s sense of humour and a hint of the Labrador about him. Personally, I just loved writing him. My leading lady, Connie, is a faith-led woman who is dedicated to her job and her alcoholic father who, through Gabriel, finds a way of nourishing her body and soul in the ways she deserves, and craves.
I always write about dishy-daddy-doctors, but trust me, you don’t want to miss Gabriel Grant!
To celebrate its release day, I’m giving away an ebook copy of The Intern and the Orthopaedic Surgeon ! Comment below for your chance to win!
The Intern and the Orthopaedic Surgeon
“I’m a good girl who follows the rules, due to graduate the orthopaedic surgical programme and start my dream career. But when mischievous rogue Gabriel Grant becomes my mentor, he shows me a deeply sensual world that threatens to derail my perfect plans…and awaken my deepest desires.”
Gabriel Grant is a young buck when it comes to Orthopaedic surgery, but he’s making waves as a maverick. Beautiful, sharp and virile, eyes linger on Gabriel wherever he goes – but his eyes are fixed on me.
I’m determined to keep focused, but he thrives on challenge – and I’m proving to be his biggest yet.
My obvious desire permits him to show me he can be what I crave; romantic, tender…as well as white-hot and dominating.
I’m a faith-led woman who craves his searing heat as much as his tenderness, but Gabriel has a thing or two to learn about that. The question is: can he be taught?
Get ready for some alpha male, forced proximity, opposites attract awakenings against a backdrop of the children’s orthopaedics department.
Gabriel Grant knows he’s God’s gift to women; there’s a reason they called him the Bone Daddy. But when his intern demands more than just his body, Gabriel must face his dark past. Will he dare to confront the abuse that still haunts him, so he can offer his heart and soul as well?
*This book is part of a series but works as a standalone novel. Contains 18+ spicy scenes throughout. Mature readers only.
About the author
Liza Collins is a wife and mother of two from the UK. She writes about medical heroes falling in love in a critical care context – and some other stuff too, just for fun.
Keep in touch:
Amazon: Liza Collins
Website: Liza Collins Books
Facebook: /Lizacollinsbooks
Liza’s Newsletter: Liza’s Subscriber Club
February 2, 2025
Gabbi Grey: I have a secret to share… (Contest)
Hello Delilah! Thank you for welcoming me here to share my new release! Rayne Check is a short story in my Love in Mission City world. So here’s the secret…I didn’t plan the world as it is. I didn’t plan a series. I’ll share with you how things evolved into what is now 5 books, 3 novellas, and 6 short stories with more to come.
Okay…so I’ve written and MF series set in the fictional town of Mission City, British Columbia — which may or may not resemble Mission, British Columbia — I’m not all that clever. But my fictional world has, of course, people and places that come from my mind. And yeah, Fifties diner in real life is Rocko’s (best burgers ever). Much of the rest, though, is in my head. As I would want a town to be. I eventually published a prequel and three books in my Love in Cedar Valley series under my penname Gabbi Powell. Same town, just I wanted to differentiate. But there’s a huge amount of cross-pollination. Characters and locations overlap and interact (and just to make things interesting, I tossed in some characters from my Gabbi Black In Their Eyes series).
Now, I’ve written about 20 books in what is now the Cedar Valley series — but I need to get them edited and I never have the time because I’m always writing new stories.
I hadn’t intended to transition from writing MF to queer books — but it happened. The fifth anniversary of my novella, My Past, Your Future is in February. I had a couple of short stories published before then, but I consider that release date as my stepping into the big leagues (relatively). That book was for a series for The Wild Rose Press. Then I wrote another gay novella for them for their ice cream series. Then came the Christmas cookie books and I was all in.
Somehow, I came up with the title Ginger Snapping All the Way, and I sat down to write the novella. I won’t bore you with the nitty gritty, but I quickly realized two things: this was a novel, not a novella, and…there was something magical about this book. In the end, I wrote the book as it was meant to be — 72k — and self-published.
Magic. I had a launch strategy. I had a discounted price. I had audio release at the same time as the ebook and the audio was amazing (I still listen to it as a comfort read). Ginger was my entry into what I saw as the big leagues.
So what next?
Just before it launched, I was presented with the chance to write a short story for a charity anthology. I had literally a weekend. I was like…HUH? Then I remembered one of my lead characters from Ginger had an asshat ex. I didn’t know it, but I was about to write my first redemption MM story. And I did. Stanley’s Christmas Redemption was 17k. And reviews were mixed, but the anthology sold well and we raised a bunch of money.
First lesson — be careful when you name people. Stanley was never meant to get a book. It’s not a name some people might associate with a hero. Second lesson — be careful when you name a book. If I could do it over, I wouldn’t have chosen to put Stanley’s name in the title. Anyway, long story short – the rights reverted and I wrote the story I mean to tell and released Stanley as a full length 85k novel. Third lesson — be careful when you expand a story — fans will come to expect that with all your short work.
Suddenly, I had a series. Well, two books. By then I was writing short stories and novellas for promos and charity anthologies I was writing up a storm — always short and always in the Mission City universe.
But I needed another big book.
I’ve talked about the genesis of Sleigh Bells and Second Chances before. I had an image of a wounded soldier returning from a war he was never meant to fight in. With the help of my plot whisperer, we came up with a story. And I wrote it. The rawest book I’ve ever written — and that’s saying something because I am the Queen of Angst.
Okay — book 3 released — all three in ebook, audio, and paperback.
So what next?
Well, I had a story I’d written for a traditional publisher. The story was sitting on an editor’s desk when he quit and he never passed it along to anyone. So I was screwed. But I LOVE the story. It just needs work (too short and written in third person point of view while I write in first…). The plan was to fix it up and it would become book 4.
Right…except fate intervened.
I was asked to write a short story (don’t snicker, I said hell, yes to everyone who asked last year). But who to write…? I remembered a secondary character from book 3 (as well as books 2.5 and 3.5 which I won’t even get into because I’ve yapped enough).
Everett called to me. So I came up with a short story to introduce him. I had to find the perfect guy for him. I had an idea (the only parameters were short and Halloween). I knew I needed a professional cover, so I went to my favorite designer’s site and found Rayne Check. Perfect! I loved the name, the cover…everything. So she slapped my name on it and I had my other guy — Rayne. Then came magic again — a short story that has just the right touch of mystery. Intrigue. Hopefully enough to make people want to pick up book 4.
Which is Everett and Rayne’s book.
Oops. Time to get a cover and start writing.
I’ve done both and the book is in edits — called Rayne’s Return.
Meanwhile, I’ve published Rayne Check. It’s a short — meant to entice readers into nabbing the next book. Or, if they aren’t familiar with Mission City, going back to the beginning to see how the stories have come together.
The book I wrote for the publisher will be book 5. Books 6 and 7 are plotted.
And that, my friends, is how you make a series (although I don’t recommend this method to anyone). Well, how I make a series — haphazard, no idea what’s going on, with stuff slotted in everywhere with characters who pop in and out. You’ll never know who might drop by in one of my Love in Mission City books. I hope that anticipation is what keeps readers coming back.
Many of the short stories I’ve written over the past year are part of Mission City and I have plans for another boxset. Not a single word gets wasted, no character goes unloved, no opportunity missed…
Okay, that was — admittedly — a lot.
Rayne Check is free with most retailers. Still working with Amazon to get the price dropped. The audio is in quality control with Audible. That’s next up. I have to say, Michael Dean did a great job!
Thanks, Delilah, for hosting me! I’d love to give a prize to a lucky commenter. I’ll happily give a copy of Ginger Snapping All the Way. If you have that book, I can offer up something from my back catalogue from any of my three pennames — that’s more than thirty-five titles to pick from. (All published since February 2020 and man, have I been busy…) So let me know — is there a series you just loved. Or is there a book you wish the author would turn into a series. Drop a comment in and random will pick a winner!
Rayne Check
About the Author
Everett
I meet an intriguing man at Quinton’s annual Halloween Extravaganza. That wicked smile and the tawny-brown eyes behind his mask hold my gaze. Under his costume, the restless energy of his body promises to do explosive, unexpected things to me. So we indulge in a little fun, but when the clock strikes midnight, the man I know only as Rayne disappears into the crowd.
My straitlaced Mission City friends tell me to chalk it up to experience, but I can’t get that man off my mind, or stop hoping we’ll meet again one day.
Rayne Check is a smoking-hot 7k word short story about a buttoned-up lawyer who lets go of his iron control for one night, the man he can’t forget, and the friends who have his back. The story is set in the Love in Mission City world.
Links:
Amazon US: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0DTJLMGQ5
KOBO: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/rayne-check
B&N: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/rayne-check-gabbi-grey/1146877924
Apple Books: https://books.apple.com/us/book/rayne-check-a-love-in-mission-city-short-story/id6740942266
Google Play: https://play.google.com/store/books/details?id=elBAEQAAQBAJ
Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1693304
Universal Book Link: https://books2read.com/RayneCheck
USA Today Bestselling author Gabbi Grey lives in beautiful British Columbia where her fur baby chin-poo keeps her safe from the nasty neighborhood squirrels. Working for the government by day, she spends her early mornings writing contemporary, gay, sweet, and dark erotic BDSM romances. While she firmly believes in happy endings, she also believes in making her characters suffer before finding their true love. She also writes m/f romances as Gabbi Black and Gabbi Powell.
Personal links:
Website: https://gabbigrey.com/
Newsletter sign-up: https://sendfox.com/gabbigrey
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/authorgabbigrey/
Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/gabbi-grey
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/15456297.Gabbi_Grey
Amazon Author Central: https://www.amazon.com/Gabbi-Grey/e/B07SJVFX1M
Audible Profile: https://www.audible.com/author/Gabbi-Grey/B07SJVFX1M
Facebook (page): https://www.facebook.com/AuthorGabbiGrey
February 1, 2025
Saturday Puzzle Contest: Eat Ice Cream for Breakfast Day & Open Contests!
This is definitely a holiday I can get behind! I looooove ice cream. Ice cream with waffles, crepes, or pancakes sounds divine!
For a chance to win a $5 Amazon gift card, solve the puzzle, then tell me how you would eat your ice cream for breakfast!
Open ContestsSince I have a guest on my blog tomorrow, I’m posting the contest list early. Be sure to enter while you still can!
January 31, 2025
Tell me a story… (Contest)
It’s Friday! My, how this week has flown. I’ve gotten very little work done. I’ve spent way too much time watching the horrible news about the crash and all the cabinet hearings in Washington, D.C. I wish I could unplug, but I’m a newshound. Always have been. I was a history major in college simply because I loved knowing how things came to be. I lived in foreign countries and visited their historical sites and their museums. I met with and befriended ordinary people and often, over a beer, would talk about politics and learn more about their lives. Although my travel days are mostly over now, I continue to learn to this day. *sigh*
Well, let’s have some fun on this Friday. I love contests. I love hearing what you come up with when I give you a challenge. Here we go…
It’s such a pretty picture, isn’t it? Well, look at it and try to think of a story you might tell about what is happening in this picture. Your story doesn’t have to be long—or any good. Just have fun with it! Describe it in the comments for a chance to win a $5 Amazon gift card!
The post Tell me a story… (Contest) first appeared on Delilah Devlin.January 30, 2025
Get your F*R*E*E download!
After a charging bison comes between her and her latest skip, a bounty hunter must rely on the survival skills of her park ranger rescuer…
Note: This 5,400-word short story exists in the Montana Bounty Hunters world. The story features bounty hunter Martika Mills from Hardman.
Before I introduced Marti Mills in the Dead Horse bounty hunter series (she’s the heroine of Hardman), I wrote a short story featuring her that appeared in First Response: A Boys Behaving Badly Anthology. Marti was fiesty and mouthy, and I loved her from the moment she appeared on the page. She was a bounty hunter, but unaffiliated with any Montana Bounty Hunter agency. The hero of the short story? Well, he’s a park ranger in Yellowstone. So, when I wrote Marti’s story, set in Dead Horse, the ranger wasn’t anywhere to be seen. I still have him in the back of my mind. He has to be part of a story set in the new Yellowstone bounty hunter books. Would you like to meet him? Get your FREE copy now!
If not for her GPS device, Martika Mills wouldn’t have had a clue where she was. All she knew was that she was soaked to the skin, mud sucked at her boots, and two days into this hunt, she was no closer to finding Marlon Oats.
Earlier that morning, after sliding a twenty to a gas station attendant on the Montana border, she’d thought she was getting close. She’d gotten a description of the car Marlon had “borrowed” on his flight into the wilderness and had found it parked in a narrow roadside viewing point, just inside Yellowstone National Park.
After that, she’d followed the narrow stream into a deep gully off the road, knowing Marlon considered himself quite the fisherman, or so his mother had said. No doubt he intended to live off the land until the heat died down after he’d failed to make his date with the judge in Helena, where he was due to be tried for robbing a pawn shop in Springdale at gunpoint. His mother had been very helpful, liking the fact that Marti seemed like “a nice girl” who might “ask” her son to let her put him in handcuffs rather than shooting him. His mother didn’t want Marlon hurt, even though his skip might cost her the home she’d lived in since she’d married Marlon’s no-account, long-dead father.
Marti was just about to call it a day, figuring she had just enough daylight left to get back to her SUV parked behind Marlon’s at the roadside park, when she spotted a puff of dark smoke rising over the gully. Noting its direction, she climbed up a steep embankment, seeking footholds in mud and rock and grabbing vines along the sides of the rocky face until she stood at the top and realized the land on this side of the stream was flatter and filled with tall spring grass—and a herd of buffalo that didn’t seem to pay her any mind as she bent over and dragged in deep breaths. She glanced at her hands braced on her knees and grimaced because they were covered in mud, which she shouldn’t give a shit about because her jeans were streaked with dirt as well.
Marlon had a lot to answer for, but thoughts of the rich bounty she’d score kept her from throwing in the towel. Her mother liked to say that stubborn was her middle name, which was a quality that worked well in her line of work. She always got her man because she never, ever gave up. She’d been bounty hunting for nearly four years now, the last one going solo because she didn’t like sharing her bounty with a partner or an agency, although she was considering working for one again. Agencies often served as bail bondsmen, too, and therefore had the downlow first on the richer bounties. Fetch Winter from Montana Bounty Hunters had been working on recruiting her to join a new satellite office he was trying to get off the ground in Dead Horse, Montana, to service southwest Montana and into Wyoming. He needed hunters with experience, and he’d heard good things about her.
She’d heard good things about the agency, too, if you discounted the cable TV show that followed his hunters out of Bear Lodge. Fetch gave his crews a higher percentage of the bounty than most agencies did, and he’d assured her that he wouldn’t be looking to do any spin-off series featuring his other offices, but he had admitted that the bonuses for the hunters who permitted the production crews to accompany them were very generous. The job was hers, if she wanted it. But first, she had to find Marlon Oats.
Trying her best not to draw the herd’s attention, she walked along the edge of the ravine, keeping within the narrow line of trees standing along the edge of the ravine as she made her way toward the place she believed a campfire had been lit.
As she drew closer, she stayed hidden and peered into a clearing. A small tent had been pitched, one that had seen better days. One of the screen windows was torn, and one of the poles that held up the tarp over the door was missing. But she couldn’t make out whether anyone was presently occupying the campsite.
Just then, she heard movement coming from the stream below and a soft off-key whistling. Hunkering down, she waited patiently until the person climbed over the edge of the embankment and stood.
“Marlon, you sweet idiot,” she said under her breath. Her heartbeats quickened, and she drew slow breaths. She needed calm, not adrenaline, to get closer to her target.
Marlon strolled toward his campsite holding a string of four fish, which he lowered into a pot beside the fire. As he began taking them out, one at time, gutting and filleting them, and then tossing the pieces into a pan he’d filled with oil, she moved closer, choosing her footsteps carefully, grateful for the chorus of gargling grunts from the buffalo nearby that masked the sounds her feet made in the suctioning mud.
She studied Marlon to see what challenges he might present. A rifle leaned against the tent, and he held a knife in his hand. Slowly, she dropped her backpack to the ground and drew her own 10mm Remington from the holster on her thigh, and then began to work her way toward the edge of the tree line, knowing she’d eventually have to expose her position to prevent him from making a move toward the rifle.
Soft chuffing grunts sounded from the herd, but she ignored the animals, keeping her gaze fixed on the more dangerous game in front of her.
Then she stepped on a twig, and it snapped.
Marlon’s gaze swung toward her position, and his eyes widened. His gaze shot to the rifle, but she shook her head.
“I’m a Fugitive Recovery Agent, so you know why I’m here,” she said, keeping her tone low and hard.
Eyes still wide, his body tensed as though he was preparing to bolt upwards and make a run for it.
“Don’t even think about running,” she bit out.
He blinked, and his gaze went to something behind her. “Bitch, you might want to think about making a run for it.” Then a smile stretched across his face as he slowly stood and waved his arms.
What the fuck…?
Then she heard it. A deep, gargling grunt. With her handgun still held in both hands in front of her, she darted a glance behind her.
A large bison bull faced her from about twenty feet away, his head lowered toward the ground, his gaze fixed on her.
The post Get your F*R*E*E download! first appeared on Delilah Devlin.January 29, 2025
Memory Game: Happy Chinese New Year! (Contest)
For those who don’t know, the Lunar New Year celebration marks the first new moon of the lunar calendar. It’s a 15-day festival period that happens this year between January 29th and February 4th. This year, millions of Chinese communities are celebrating the start of the Year of the Snake. There are parades, quiet moments of prayer, and lots of food. In fact, I’m going to talk my daughter into picking up Chinese food tonight so we can have a little celebration and introduce the kids to another holiday that I think needs to be added to our rotation. Any excuse to celebrate, right? More like, any excuse to eat good food. I’ll also light some incense and think about the family members we’ve lost in recent years and to wish luck and happiness to all my family and friends.
Most of us know our traditional Horoscope/Zodiac signs, right? Do you know what your Chinese Zodiac symbol is? The Independant has a nice summary for you to figure out what your zodiac symbol is. Follow the link to find out what yours is. I was born in 1958, in the Year of the Dog. Here are some of the qualities a “dog” possesses: “Loyal and friendly, they make the best companions a person can have. Sometimes they can be stubborn but always find their way back to balance.”
For a chance to win a $5 Amazon gift card, solve the puzzle, then find out what Chinese Zodiac animal you are. Do the qualities your symbol represents fit you? And are you ready to add the Lunar New Year to your yearly calendar of celebrations?
January 28, 2025
Flashback: Hook (Contest–3 Winners!)
I’ve told you all before that I love my Montana Bounty Hunters. From the first stories in the original series set in Bear Lodge, MT, I tried hard to make each of the bounty hunters individual rather than cookie-cutter characters with different names. I loved devising unique takedowns because they’re fun to write, and they showcase who these men are. I especially loved writing Hook because I got a chance to take a deep dive into the research to make his disability real and still make him sexy as hell. I hope you enjoy his story!
Hook
Contest
MONTANA BOUNTY HUNTERS: Authentic Men… Real Adventures…
Former Army Ranger, Dylan “Hook” Hoecker, has a new job along with a new prosthetic arm. Being a bounty hunter is the closest career field he could find as a civilian that gives him the adrenaline rush that is his addiction. So, when his first solo assignment is to keep an eye on a flight risk the boss bonded out of jail, he’s not thrilled. However, he soon discovers a fresh addiction—one mouthy, nerdy redhead, who resists his attempts to keep her out of trouble.
Felicity Gronkowski is grateful for the bone the head of Montana Bounty Hunter threw her. She didn’t have the money to pay for bail, but he has a soft spot for former military, and she bartered to install a new computer system in his satellite office in Bear Lodge. Being on the outside of jail was her first imperative because she has to figure out who framed her for a series of high-end robberies while she worked installing home security systems. However, her bounty-hunting babysitter isn’t giving her any slack. Every time she thinks she’s given him the slip, he’s one step ahead of her. Either she has to find the perfect method of distraction to escape him or she has to enlist his help to clear her name.
Are you all caught up reading the original Montana Bounty Hunters series?
For a chance to win a download of one of the stories you may have missed
(I’ll pick three winners!), tell me this:
I am currently thinking about stories to add to my MBH Yellowstone series. Do you have any ideas for fun stories or perils my hunters might face in Yellowstone?
Here are all the Bear Lodge Montana Bounty Hunters! Yes, it’s an old meme, but do you really care? [image error]
MONTANA BOUNTY HUNTERS: Bear Lodge, MT
Authentic Men… Real Adventures…
Reaper: https://amzn.to/2NztLpv
Dagger: https://amzn.to/2zo6Dav
Reaper’s Ride: https://amzn.to/2KKkisI
Cochise: https://amzn.to/2zq4avV
Hook: https://amzn.to/2UrpyYh
Wolf: https://amzn.to/2yUTjr5
Animal: https://amzn.to/2H4Roob
Big Sky Wedding: https://amzn.to/33GprwK
Quincy: https://amzn.to/2QlleM8
Brian: https://amzn.to/2ZV8m2G
Dylan “Hook” Hoecker had no problem keeping pace with Dagger and Cochise as they raced along the dark alleyway, following the skip they’d tracked to a gun shop in Libby. Scooter James had made the crew the moment Dagger entered the premise. Perhaps it was Dagger’s burly physique that had tipped him off, or maybe he was just nervous having three intense-looking dudes enter the store, but he’d run for the back exit.
No, Hook’s legs had never been an issue. He ran like the wind, easily leaping over a barrel Scooter dumped on its side, hoping to trip them. Beside him, Dagger cursed, and Hook couldn’t help smiling as the big guy went down. This skip was his. When he reached the end of the alley, Scooter veered left and ran through a stand of motorcycles, tipping over one, which sent the rest slowly falling like dominoes. Bikers sitting at outdoor café tables nearby rose and filled the street, shouting and moving toward their Harleys, forcing Cochise and Hook to push past them.
Cochise went down when one biker stuck out a foot, perhaps angry that their chase had scratched his ride.
Hook waved his prosthetic arm, which, sometimes, had even those who weren’t so tight with the law pausing and giving him a break. He didn’t mind one bit using his disability to give him an advantage. He shouted out a “Thanks, man,” when one biker rolled his bike forward to clear his path.
Now, it was just him following the slap of Scooter’s Adidas on the pavement. Hook paced himself, forcing himself to keep his breathing even so he’d outlast his target. He didn’t use every bit of his strength to close the gap, because he knew he’d need anything extra to take the fucker down once he began to slow.
In his mind, Hook thanked his physical therapist, who’d concentrated on helping him make the adjustment to his new circumstance, learning to use his prosthetic, but who also continued to meet him on the track three or four mornings a week to make sure he worked out the rest of his body to help, not only keep him toned for the work he did, but to keep his dark moods at bay. Raydeen Pickering was a hero in his mind, because she went the extra mile for every man and woman she accepted into her treatment program.
Ahead of him, Scooter ducked into another alley.
“He’s turned again,” he said, knowing the others could hear him through the radio in his earpiece. “Left, into an alley.”
“I’m behind you,” Cochise said. “Don’t let him out of your sight.”
“I’m cutting through another alley. Will try to get to the street before he does,” Dagger said in his ear.
Hook went left and entered an alley lit by a single golden bulb at the back door of a restaurant. He ran past rank-smelling trash bins and plastic bags but didn’t see his mark ahead. “Don’t see him,” he said, and then slowed and turned.
Something dark swung at his head, and he held up his right arm to deflect the blow from a two-by-four from a pallet, no doubt. But the board hit plastic and metal and bounced off. Hook swung under it with his left, catching Scooter in the chin. Their target dropped like a sack of rocks across a row of trash bags lined up on the dirty, smelly pavement.
Hook stood over Scooter, shaking his left hand because it hurt like hell. Then he noted that his prosthetic dangled kind of funny. He tried to open and close the claw, but apparently, Scooter’s blow had damaged the cable. “Fuck,” he said, and gave Scooter a light kick in the side. “Bastard.”
The sounds of two individuals converging on him from different directions forced him to contain his anger and tuck his prosthetic against his body to hide the damage. The last thing he ever wanted to have happen was for one of these guys to think he was less capable of mixing it up. For the most part, he thought of his arm as an advantage in a fight. Metal hit harder than flesh and bone, and, generally, it could sustain a punch much better, too.
Thankfully, he kept a spare in his vehicle. He just had to get there. But first things first.
Scooter moaned from the ground as Cochise then Dagger came to a halt beside him and stared downward.
“Like we tried to tell you before you ran like a scared rabbit,” Hook said to Scooter, “we’re fugitive recovery agents, and we’re taking you to jail.”
Scooter pushed up on an elbow. “What the hell is that smell?”
Dagger sniffed. “Don’t know, but now I’m hungry. Could be chili.”
“I think it’s stew,” Cochise dead-panned. “Benny’s Eats makes a mean beef stew.”
“Shit, it’s all the way up my shirt,” Scooter said as he sat, rubbing his jaw.
“Well, looks like you’ll have something to snack on during the drive back,” Dagger drawled.
Scooter let out a huff. “Goddamn. My car, man. I left it at the gun shop.”
“You’ll just have to pick it up from impound,” Dagger said, “if the judge is stupid enough to let someone bond you out again.”
Hook reached down his left hand to help Scooter to his feet.
Scooter frowned. “Damn, you wearing armor on your arm? My teeth about rattled out of my head when I hit you.” Then he glanced at Hook’s metal claw. “Well, shit. That explains a lot.”
Hook reached for his handcuffs from the pocket on the back of his web belt. When he pulled them forward, he realized he wasn’t going to be able to cuff him, not one-handed.
Cochise held out his hand. “Let me do the honors.”
Hook pressed his lips together and handed him his handcuffs. If he’d been on his own, he’d have managed, somehow, but he might have had to put Scooter back on the ground first. He hadn’t quite mastered the single-handed snap using his left hand. Everything was harder to master with his left. Maybe he should ask Raydeen to add handcuffing to the everyday tasks he worked on improving.
Once Cochise had Scooter restrained, he stood back and let Hook grip Scooter’s upper arm to take him back to their vehicles.
The walk back was interminable. They passed the bikers who shot them birds but otherwise stayed pretty mellow. Back at the gun shop, Lacey, Dagger’s partner, gave a wave to the shop owner and sauntered their way. She’d canvassed the businesses in Libby days ago, leaving cards. No doubt the middle-aged owner had been only too eager to snitch, because then she’d grace his shop again. Dressed in skin-tight jeans and a pink button-down blouse that she’d knotted at her midriff, Lacey looked like a sweet confection. All that was missing was the powdered sugar.
“Hey there, Scooter,” she said. Then she shook her head and held her nose. “Good Lord, he is not riding in our vehicle.”
Hook grunted. “You can ride with me. I’ll even let you drive.”
Lacey might have looked like a cupcake, but she was one sharp cookie. Her gaze went to the arm he’d tucked close to his body, and she gave him a broad smile. “Dagger, you don’t mind if I ride with Hook, do you? I’ve never had the chance to talk with him alone.”
Dagger narrowed his eyes.
Lacey gave him a blinding smile. “See you back in Bear Lodge! Only you’ll be way later than us,” she said, then held her nose again and gave him a wink.
Cochise chuckled. “Come on, Scooter. You’ve got a new date with a judge. Bet if you sweettalk your jailers, they’ll let you have a shower before they put you in your cell.”
After Cochise, Dagger, and Scooter left, Lacey turned back to Hook, her big blue eyes rounding in concern. “Oh my God, you’re hurt!”
“Not really. Not much anyway, but he did a number on my prosthetic.”
“What did he hit you with?”
Hook grimaced. “A two-by-four. Most of the blow hit plastic and steel; my shoulder took some of the impact, too. I have another arm in the back of my truck.” Moving to the rear gate, he opened it and reached for the sports bag that held his spare arm. Then he pulled at his Velcro tabs and removed his Kevlar vest then unbuttoned his plaid shirt. When he tried to shrug it off, he winced, because his upper arm and shoulder ached.
“Let me help you, Dylan.”
He thought it was kind of funny that the women at the agency were the only ones who didn’t call him “Hook”. As well, if one of the guys had offered to help him, he would have given him a frown, but Lacey was so damn sweet he didn’t want to hurt her feelings, so he turned his back and let her drag off his shirt.
“Wow, that’s some hardware you have to wear.”
He shrugged off the strap that circled around his left shoulder to lose his harness then drew the socket off his stump. He tried to move away because the sock beneath it was soaked with sweat and smelled, but Lacey didn’t seem to mind, moving in to roll the sock off his limb.
This part always felt weird when a woman did it, even on those rare occasions when Raydeen helped. He never felt “less than” when he wore his hook, but without it, he felt exposed, lacking. The stump and the long red scar were ugly.
“Do you use powder or anything before you put on a new sock?” she asked.
“No, the sock wicks away the moisture,” he said, “it keeps my skin pretty dry, when I’m not running marathons.” He dug into his bag and felt for a soft, rolled sock and pulled it out.
“You don’t mind if I help, do you?” she asked. “This is fascinating.”
“Dagger might not like you putting a sock on another man’s…stump,” he said, growling, but offering her a waggle of his eyebrows.
She laughed. “You did not just say that.” Then she made a face as she rolled the sock upward. “Although, thinking about it, the process is quite similar…” She pulled on the top of the sock, removing any wrinkles. “I do that right?”
“Dagger taught you well,” he drawled.
“You know, he’s going to ask me what the heck we talked about all the way back home. I have to come up with something better than ‘cloaking your stump’.”
Hooks mouth stretched. Lacey was special, and her blonde, cheerleader beauty and bubbly personality were only frosting. He wondered why it was that every time she entered his mind he thought about desserts. The woman was so much more. Although she was the only MBH hire who wasn’t prior military, she’d proven herself a valuable addition. She had people skills, knew how to work with disguises, and had a very agile mind.
Hook thought Dagger was pretty damn lucky to have her.
After they drove through a fast-food window for food, Hook downed aspirin with a Coke to help lessen the growing ache in his shoulder.
“You could put back your seat and get some rest,” she said, aiming a smile his way before turning her attention back to the dark highway.
“Not often I get to share a ride with a pretty woman,” he said. “I’d just as soon keep you company.”
“Are you nervous with me behind the wheel? I won’t be offended. Dagger rarely lets me have the keys. Says I’m a menace on the road.”
“Now, she tells me,” he said under his breath, but only to make her smile.
“I think he complains just to keep his hands on the steering wheel. I’m thinking it’s a man-thing.”
“You’re probably right,” Hook said, grinning.
“So, Hook, you got a girlfriend?”
Hook’s eyebrows shot upward. “Nope.” And not a subject he wanted to continue. Since his injury, he hadn’t had so much as a coffee date with a woman. “I’ve been kind of busy. The move, new job…”
“Hmm.” She kept quiet for a while then shot him a look that had him gritting his teeth.
He hoped like hell that wasn’t sympathy in her expression.
“You know, I have a side gig, not that I’ve had a lot of down-time myself lately, but I do women’s makeup and hair. I host parties. I meet a lot of women.”
Knowing where this was going, he shook his head. “Don’t fix me up. Please.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t do that. But I could help you meet women—”
“Don’t need help with that either. I meet women.”
“Anyone who doesn’t have a mug shot, and who isn’t heading back to jail?”
“Lacey…”
“I’m just saying, there lots of women who would find you really attractive.”
He grunted. “Sure.”
She was silent a moment, then, “Is it because of your arm?”
He wiped a hand over his face, wishing he’d decided to take that nap she’d offered. “Is what because of my arm?”
“The fact you’re shy.”
“I’m not shy.”
In the dashboard lights, he could see her face screw up into a frown as she continued to think about him.
“I’ll go on a date. When I’m ready.”
“And how long has it been since your last one?”
He sighed. “Maybe a couple of years?”
“Since before you lost your arm?”
“Yes, but I’ve been busy. Recovery, rehab, move, new job…” He gritted his teeth, because he knew she wasn’t going to let this go until she got to the bottom of it. Dagger had warned him that even though she looked pretty and soft, she was a pit bull underneath all the pink.
“See? I’m worried about you. The longer you wait to get out there, the harder it’s going to be. You’ll build it all up into this mountain of doubts that you’ll find really hard to climb over…”
He shook his head. She needed to add “therapist” to her list of side gigs. His therapist had said pretty much the same thing before he’d been medically discharged.
“Just think about it. You’re young still. And I know guys need to…you know…let their little swimmers take a few laps,” she said, pointing a finger and wiggling it like a minnow fighting to get upstream. “It’s not healthy to forgo…swimming.”
“Swimmers?” He couldn’t help it, he started laughing. “Do you talk dirty like this to Dagger?”
She grunted. “No, he likes the real words. And he tells me he needs to…swim…all the time, to keep him from getting grumpy.”
Now, he was gasping with laughter—so hard, he had to bend forward. His shoulders shook.
“Hey, it’s not that funny.”
“Sorry, sweetheart,” he said, wagging a finger as he continued to chuckle. “I’ll have to ask Dagger how the fishing’s going.”
She shook her head, and a grin began to stretch across her face. “Don’t you dare.” She blew out a long breath. “Okay, I’ll drop the subject—and I won’t throw women in your path. Promise. But you have to promise me you’ll at least think about it.”
“I will. When I’m ready.” He let out a breath and settled back against his seat. The laughter had felt good. Damn, he liked Lacey. Too bad she was already taken.
The post Flashback: Hook (Contest–3 Winners!) first appeared on Delilah Devlin.January 27, 2025
A Tale of Two Cats (Contest)
I live with two grumpy old cats. The one above is Pumpkin, who adopted me. The first time I met her she was feral and wandering on the edge of the forest behind our house. I began leaving her food on the other side of the fence because I was worried about her. She was small for a cat and looked rather pathetic. I fed her daily, but she never approached when I was there. I’d watch as she waited for me to disappear inside, then from my window, I’d observe her eating the food I left.
Then one night many years ago, I had set an alarm to get up in the middle of the night to go outside and watch a large red moon. I felt something making figure-eights around my legs. When I glanced down, I was startled to see this cat (and so glad it wasn’t a raccoon!). She’d come to trust me, and slowly, she went from being a skittish outdoor cat to being a cat who refuses to step outside. She now lives in my bedroom, taking up the space on my recliner.
Tessa is the other elderly cat who inhabits my space. The two cats despise each other, and if they meet in the doorway as one comes back from the food bowls and litter box, they howl and spit at each other. Tessa inhabits the pillows at the back of my head when I lay down, and her purring is what puts me to sleep, although her yowls, when she gets mad if I roll to my side and disturb her sleep, are quite grating. If my hands are outside the covers, she nudges them for me to pet her—incessantly. So, I hide them under the covers when I’m done and wait for her to give a grumbling meow before she flops behind my head on the pillow and goes to sleep, snoring.
Right now, they both want to follow me into my office, so they are crouched on the floor, berating each other, waiting for the other to walk away, but that never happens. I have to break them up, picking them up to put them where they belong—one on the chair, one on the pillows.
This has been going on for years now. There is no peaceful resolution. They are sworn enemies who are jealous of the attention I pay the other. They will never be besties although they occupy the space of my bedroom for most of the day and night.
We live together, me being the buffer between them. I don’t know why I’m telling you about them this morning, except that Pumpkin is still trying to jump into my lap as I type. I rarely allow that because she doesn’t stop demanding pets and never settles—and I have work to do!
Betta fish are so much easier to care for. Feed them, keep their water the proper temperature, and enjoy the show. Not so cats.
So, for fun, have you ever had pets who were sworn enemies? How did you manage to keep the peace? Answer in the comments below for a chance to win a $5 Amazon gift card.
P.S.: I just wanted to let you know that I had no discernable side effects from my immunotherapy infusion last Monday. Not one. I sat for an hour while they dripped the medicine in my IV. Then I went about my life this past week without any nausea or pain. It’s so lovely. I’m still recovering my energy level after so many months of chemo, but I’ll get there!
January 26, 2025
Report Card & Open Contests
Last week…
The most noteworthy thing that happened last week was my meeting with my oncologist on Monday. There, he told me I’m in remission from the cancer that once filled my abdomen. Now, there’s a “smudge” of cancer left in my uterus, and I will be seeing a surgeon soon to remove everything! Halleluiah! That does not mean I’ll be cured. I’ll still have Stage IV endometrial cancer. It just means that, for now, we’ve knocked it back. I’ll take that and celebrate!I also underwent my first every-six-weeks immunotherapy infusion. And guess what? It only took an hour—not an entire day—and the best part? No side effects that knock me on my ass! Glory Halleluiah! I continued work on one author’s edits and finished them.This next week…
This week, I’ll be diving back into finishing up Ignition ! Okay, so I said this last week, but I mean it this time. I want to finish it and put it up for pre-order.I have one author’s edits to work on this week—perhaps a second set if the author gets me her pages.So far as personal goals? I’m not ready to diet. I’m still in celebrate mode. LOL. I also can’t find the drive to up my activity. I need some inspiration.Open Contests
Be sure to check out these posts and enter to win the prizes that are still up for grabs:
Flashback: Saddled (Contest) — This one ends tomorrow! Win a FREE book!Memory Game: Places I would like to go… (Contest) — This one ends soon! Win an Amazon gift card!5 Things I’m Thankful For… (Contest) — This one ends soon! Win an Amazon gift card!Saturday Puzzle-Contest: Dream Dinner Table — This one ends soon! Win an Amazon gift card!Gabbi Grey: Gay Historical Romances (Contest) — This one ends soon! Win a FREE eBook or audiobook!Report Card & Open Contests (New Contest, too!) — Win a pretty pen!Flashback: Tailgating at the Cedar Inn (Contest–3 Winners!) — Win a FREE story!Word Search: Hot Sauce Day (Contest) — Win an Amazon gift card!Anna Taylor Sweringen/Michal Scott: Ellen F. Eglin — Inventor of the Wringer Washer (Contest) Win an Amazon gift card!Saturday Puzzle-Contest: A Wishing Well — Win an Amazon gift card!The post Report Card & Open Contests first appeared on Delilah Devlin.January 25, 2025
Saturday Puzzle-Contest: A Wishing Well
It’s Saturday—so, it’s puzzle time! I promise the picture in the puzzle is much prettier than this one.
I know what wish I would flip my quarter into a wishing well for, but I’d love to know what your wish would be. So, for a chance to win a $5 Amazon gift card, solve the puzzle, then tell me what you’d wish for.
The post Saturday Puzzle-Contest: A Wishing Well first appeared on Delilah Devlin.
