Delilah Devlin's Blog, page 283

Angela Drake: 5 Tips for Social Media Marketing

Hello everyone!

I am so happy to be on Delilah’s blog. Today, I’m talking Social Media Marketing. Let’s dive in!

Years ago, I led a workshop on AOL as part of the writer forums. We met in a chat room every Wednesday night to discuss writing. One night during a session on promotion, a participant spoke up and said she could never promote her books. Write them, yes. Promote them? Not something she could see herself doing. In the days of Social Media Marketing now, I often wonder if she’s changed her perspective.

Social media has opened up ways of promoting that even the shyest person can do in some form. The key is finding the venues that work for the individual. Think of them as a conference. Just as you would choose a conference that suits your needs, you can select the social media options that will benefit you the most as well as play a key part in your branding: Who You Are, What You Represent, and Why You Are Here.

There are numerous social media platforms to choose from. TWITTER, FACEBOOK, GOODREADS, INSTAGRAM, BLOGGING and PINTEREST are just a few available.  Picking the ones that are right for you can be a challenge. Your first consideration is what you want to do? Do you want to educate other writers as well as have a landing page for your own promotion? If so, then a blog is a good option. Do you want to connect more with readers? In that case, you will want to learn the ins and outs of Goodreads, Facebook and Twitter. Facebook is also a great venue if you envision doing a virtual book launch with fun games, guest authors and prizes to attract readers. All of them are great places to network with prospective editors and agents.

Choosing the right tracks and working them can be daunting for some people. I have Five Tips to take the edge off… consider this your glass of champagne at the conference meet and greet.

1 – Pick no more than 3 to work with.

2 – Make Friends

3 – Be a Friend

4 – Be Genuine

5 – Monitor your TIME

My top three platforms are Blogging, Twitter, and Instagram. I have to admit that I work the Instagram more for my art/music while I want to focus on Goodreads this year for my writing. But Blogger and Twitter are my ‘go to’ for any of my promotions across the board.

When it comes to making friends, build a following before you step out to begin your own promotion. Get to know people. Think of it as being at a conference. Start by looking for others in your genre. Authors, Publishers/Editors. See who they are following or friends with. Walk around the room and introduce yourself. Find out about each of them. For example, I want to write for Hallmark movies so I’m looking for other Hallmark authors, actors, producers, etc. as well as authors who write sweet romances in general.

Be Genuine. Sure, you’re there to promote yourself and your work, but you also need to be  interested in what others have to share and say. You would expect no less from them in return.

Share Information. Find things other than your book to talk about. Follow other authors and find things to share that fall in their wheelhouse. Even if you write Science Fiction or Paranormal, find and share links to things that might be of interest to the Historical writers that are on your stream. Think of it as being at a conference and while you don’t write what the person you’re talking to does, you have something he might be interested in. Respond/ Share to others comments/ posts.

Like any other conference or gathering, there has to be a time when you thank your hostess and leave. If you KNOW you can’t control the scrolling through post after post, set a timer.  Can’t get enough of those crazy cat videos? Don’t start watching them until your work is done.  This is a picture of the page marker in my planner. I run down this check list every morning before doing anything else.

Make a list of what you need to accomplish that day on each of your chosen Social Media tracks.

Do you want to find ten new friends on Titter? Share five posts on FB? Write the blog posts you need for this week? (Blogging is a whole different workshop). As you get into a routine, doing these tasks will begin to take less time. You’ll get into a flow and Social Media won’t be the black hole of time… or as scary.

I’ve given you the bare necessities here. If you’d like a full-workshop on Social Media Marketing, I’ll be speaking at the 52nd Ozark Creative Writers Conference October 11,12,13. This year’s conference information will post on the website in mid-February at www.ozarkcreativewriters.com. This is an intimate, multi-genre conference with lots of great info and pitching sessions. I’m also available as a blog guest or in-person speaking.

Now, go make friends!

Angela Drake

Blog – http://angeladrake.blogspot.com

FB – https://www.facebook.com/AngelaDrake.author/

Twitter – @AngelaDrakeA

Amazon – amazon.com/author/angeladrake

Elle James: Traveling for Research and Fun

Thank you, Delilah Devlin, for inviting me to celebrate the release of SAM’S SURRENDER, the fourth book in my Hearts & Heroes series.

I loved writing the stories in this series because I got to include places I’d been or wanted to go in my work. In Wyatt’s War, the setting was San Antonio, Texas and the beautiful River Walk. In Mack’s Witness, I took the brothers to Ireland for Wyatt’s wedding. In Ronin’s Return, I took Ronin to Venice, one of my favorite cities in the world! It was beautiful and magical.

In Sam’s Surrender, Sam picked the Greek Island of Santorini as his vacation spot. I’d been to San Antonio, Ireland and Venice, but I have not been to Santorini. It’s on my bucket list!

I love to travel and I’m working my way across the world one country at a time. It’s hard for me to believe there are people who have never left their home town or state. The world is full of beautiful and interesting places and people. I want to see them all! I hope you give Sam’s Surrender a chance and visit Santorini vicariously if not for real!

Sam’s Surrender

Amazon | Kobo | Nook | GooglePlay | iBooks 

When the stress of the job pushes Sam Magnus to take greater risks than is called for as a helicopter pilot with the US Army 160th Night Stalkers, his commander insists he extend his leave for much-needed R&R. With no clue how to chill, he relies on a dart thrown at a map to determine where he should spend his unwanted vacation. The Greek island of Santorini it is! Used to non-stop action, the thought of lolling in the sun for two weeks makes him want to hurt someone. Until he interferes with an attempted kidnapping of one hot babe his first night on the island.

Stranded on Santorini, abandoned by the wealthy couple who hired her, former au pair, Kinsey Phillips, has enough going wrong with being broke and homeless, she doesn’t need to add an attempted kidnapping to her list of troubles. An Army helicopter pilot swoops in to rescue her, and thus begins a whole new set of troubles.

Brent Archer: Steak Pies and The Rain City Tales

My first experience with steak pies came in the spring of 2009. My best friend from college informed me that she was leaving Auckland after a two-year stint with her partner, so I decided I’d better get there before I lost the free room and local tour guide. For those of you who’ve read The Officer’s Siren, this might sound familiar. For the purposes of this post, I’ll call her Emily (like I did in the book). Emily took me to the grocery store after my jetlag wore off, and I found a huge selection of these wonderful meat pies. Now I love cheese, and I really love meat and gravy, so the combination of both in a pastry shell had my mouth watering before I even got to the checkout stand. They didn’t disappoint! My favorite by a mile was the steak and brie pies. Australian meat pies have the meat ground, but New Zealand Pies are chunks of steak. I’ve had both, but prefer by a mile the Kiwi (New Zealander) pies. I’d definitely brave the 13-hour flight to have these again.

After returning to Seattle, I didn’t find a source for these wonderful treats until another writing friend, Maia Strong (seriously, check out her stuff – she’s awesome), took me to Pies and Pints on Sixty-Fifth Avenue NE in the Ravenna neighborhood of Seattle. Although they had the Aussie version of the meat pies, I loved the place so much, I sent my guys there in both The Officer’s Siren and in the second novel of the Rain City Tales, Past Secrets Present Danger. Sadly, after 13 years, Pies and Pints in Seattle closed in 2017, but the wonderful space, and the yummy meat pies, live on as our guys’ go-to place after work for pool, pies, and tater tots!

The second installment of the Rain City Tales, Past Secrets Present Danger, is now available for download on Amazon and Kobo today! Past Secrets Present Danger follows accountant Roger Matthews navigating his partner, SPD Officer Paul Tomlinson’s, secrets and past when he lands in the hospital after a shooting. Stay tuned for Rain City Tales Book 3: I’m Yours due out before Valentine’s Day, and Rain City Tales Book 4: The Wedding Weekend, out in May 2018.

****

You can order the first Rain City Tales story, The Officer’s Siren, here.

Checkout Brent’s website for more details on upcoming books.

Excerpt from Past Secrets Present Danger:

The pub teemed with people as they stepped inside, and Roger thought the restaurant seemed overly crowded for a mid-week evening. Paul navigated his way through the sea of chairs, holding Roger’s hand and steering him to a small table not far from the pool table, where Fred Collier waved his arms in animated conversation with Alex and Sarah Templeton.

“Not sitting at the bar this evening, gents?” The bartender, Seb, approached the table with two coasters and tossed the disks onto the table top.

Paul grinned. “No room. How’s married life treating you?”

“I think your buxom Italian wife disappointed all the women and over half the men in this place when she caught you,” Roger joined in.

Seb laughed. “Emily’s amazing. I’m still marveling at how awesome she is.” He leaned in. “Although, just between the three of us, I could do without the jogging outfits she comes up with. Love is blind, though, eh?”

As Seb moved to another table, Fred hurried over. “Paul, good that you’re here. Alex and Sarah challenged me to a game, and I need my partner.”

Eyeing his co-worker, Paul crossed his arms. “What’s the matter?” he asked, his tone wry. “Your pool-shark buddy, Mike, not available?”

Fred’s eyes widened. “It was just that one time, I swear. You were out of town, and I was in a bind.”

“That’s not what Sarah said,” Roger piped up. He loved joining in the teasing interplay between Paul and his boss, and loved even more the fact Paul’s friends and fellow officers had accepted him so readily into their circle. “She told me you constantly beg Mike to come play.”

Paul shifted his gaze from Roger to Fred. “Is this true?” he asked with exaggerated dismay and indignation.

Swinging his gaze toward Sarah and Alex, Fred glared at the couple. The Templetons exchanged glances and shrugged while smothering smiles.

Officer Jason Lynch and his husband Mike Bryant wove their way to Roger and Paul’s table.

Mike’s goofy smile lit up his face. “Did someone mention my name?”

Stifling a laugh, Roger sat back and watched the officers bicker about who was entitled to play and how often Mike was cutting in on Paul’s gig. Seb bustled over and planted his hands on his hips.

“All right, boys. If you don’t cool it,” he said, winking at Roger, “I’ll have to call the cops.”

The room filled with the roar of laughter from the three officers. Jason and Mike took the two extra seats at the table, and Roger handed his menu over to the pair.

“I’m ready to order, Seb,” Roger said.

Seb pulled his pad from his apron. “Shoot.”

“The steak and cheddar pie with a mound of tater tots.” He glanced at the beer list. “And…a bottle of Roger’s Pilsner.”

Mike chuckled next to Roger. “I’ll have the same, except I want a ginger beer.”

Seb nodded. “Paul?”

As his boyfriend and Jason ordered, Roger cast Fred a bemused grin. The poor guy was desperate for Paul to go shoot a game of pool with the Templetons, and Paul was purposefully taking his time, being indecisive about his food and drink order.

When Seb finally left the table, Fred plunked down between Paul and Jason. “Seriously, are you going to help me out, Paul?” He glanced across the table at Mike. “I’m sure there’s someone else here who’d play if you don’t want to.”

Paul leaned toward Roger. “What do you think, babe?”

“Let Mike play.” Roger grinned. “The game’ll be over in about five minutes.”

Another roar of laughter erupted from the table, although this time Fred didn’t join in. He looked like a spoiled child whose favorite toy had been stolen away.

Taking pity on him, Roger turned to Fred. “Just kidding. Go shoot one game.” Roger raised his index finger and waved it in front of Paul. “One game. You have commitments after we’re done eating.”

Heat burned through the look Paul shot him as he pushed himself to his feet. “Okay, Fred. You heard the boss. One game.”

“Commitments?” Jason looked between them.

Mike chuckled and reached his hand under the table. “Commitments.”

Eyes widening, Jason stared at his husband. “Oh. Commitments.”

About the Author

Brent Archer began writing in 2011 at the nudging of his cousins (ahem, Elle James and Delilah Devlin). His first story sold, and he was hooked! Keep up with Brent Archer and his current releases at his website, and follow him on Twitter: @brentarcherwrit.

Allie Boniface: Look up, Angel (F*R*E*E READ)

First off, a big thank-you to Delilah for hosting me here on her blog!

So here we are in January of a brand new year. Can you believe it’s 2018? I don’t make formal resolutions for myself anymore (ugh! too much pressure!), but I do like to look at the new year for a chance to reboot my daily routines and take a look at how I can become a better writer.

One of my goals this year? To interact more with YOU, my readers. I read an article in the New York Times last fall that really stuck with me. It talked about how people need social interaction, and social support networks, to be both physically and mentally healthy. Among the statistics they cited? People who’d suffered a heart attack had only a quarter the risk of death in the next 3 years if they had a strong support network, as opposed to those without one. In general, people who are socially isolated have a higher risk for stress and inflammation, which in turn can lead to mortality risk factors like high blood pressure, a weaker immune system, and coronary heart disease.

Scary stuff, right?

And yet so many of us walk around attached to our phones, or sit in our living rooms focused on our tablets, and we forget to look up, to have a conversation with those around us, to talk and listen and engage in a very human, one-to-one way.

So my goal this year is to be more present and more engaged with the people in my life. I can’t always do that in-person with my readers, but I can chat with them online and in social media groups and I can develop relationships with them both because of, and outside of, the books I write.

All this is a very long way of inviting you to be part of my journey this year in building better relationships with my readers! Two ways I have already started:

I am resurrecting my blog, and each week I’ll put up a post that will feature a giveaway. I hope you’ll stop by, visit, leave a comment, and throw in your chance to win whatever prize I’m giving away that week.

I am also writing 4 short stories exclusively for my newsletter subscribers. These stories will be free, and they’re my way of thanking my loyal readers and followers for supporting me on my writing journey. The first story, “Look Up, Angel,” released last week, so if you’re interested in reading it, you can subscribe to my newsletter for all the details: http://eepurl.com/9TO79

Enjoy this excerpt, and then if you’d like, drop by my blog to check out this week’s giveaway. I hope you’ll become a regular there, or on my Facebook page, or simply drop in every now and then to see what I’ve been up to. In the meantime, Happy New Year! Have a wonderful 2018!

Look Up, Angel

Sometimes love is waiting for us in the places we least expect it. All we have to do is look up…



“You’re kidding.” Angela skirted a mom pushing a double baby stroller and darted across 42nd Street before the light turned red. A cab missed her by a quarter inch, hit a puddle, and splashed dirty water all over her ankles. Fabulous. She pressed her cell phone to her cheek. “Is this guy even qualified to be your cameraman?”

“He’s got some experience,” her best friend Sophie said. “At a local cable station, but at least it’s something.”

Angela glanced over her shoulder and crossed 9th Avenue. “Soph, this is one of the biggest shows of your career. And you’re letting a hometown boy who’s got — what? Two or three hours behind the camera? You’re letting him shoot it? I can’t believe Lon isn’t freaking out about it.” The producer of Sophie’s travel show freaked out about everything.

“Not like I have much choice. I’m in the middle of nowhere. This town doesn’t even have a decent coffee shop.”

Horns blared around Angela. People rushed by in an effort to get home. The marquees, the storefronts, the traffic itself, lit up Times Square. She passed three coffee shops in the time it took Sophie to complain about the lack of one in Lindsey Point. She’d never lived anywhere but Brooklyn, as a child, and now Manhattan, as a journalist fresh out of grad school. She couldn’t imagine a place without espresso and parking garages and twenty-four hour take-out.

“Well, you’re not there for too long, right?” she said.

“I’m not sure. It’s a heck of a good story, I’ll tell you that much. I might be here a couple of weeks.”

Angela turned a corner, then another, and stopped in front of her favorite Italian restaurant. She rarely cooked, and at almost nine o’clock, her empty stomach reminded her that it had no patience for her attempts to. “Listen, I’ll call you later. I’m picking up dinner.”

“This late?”

Angela frowned at her phone. “It’s not even nine.”

Sophie laughed. “Sorry. It’s just that this town closes up after seven on a weeknight. I’ve been eating dinner at six.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope.” Sophie paused for a minute. “Call me later, yeah. I want to tell you more about my new cameraman.”

Forty minutes later, Angela arrived at her apartment house in the neighborhood of Chelsea. The building was tiny, but it had a doorman and an exquisite view, if she craned her neck and peered out one window at just the right angle. Plus she could afford it on her salary, without a roommate.

“Angel,” Mario greeted her. He pushed open the door, tipped his cap, and waited until she was safely inside before securing the door behind her.

She smiled. Her doorman was the only person who’d ever called her Angel, instead of her given name, Angela. She thought maybe it was a nickname in the place he came from, not like she knew where that was, but she guessed maybe the Dominican Republic, from his accent. He had light brown skin and a near-perfect smile.

“Coffee tonight?” He held out a paper cup from the shop around the corner.

“You’re so sweet. Thank you.” He’d started the tradition sometime last year, soon after taking the job. She didn’t know if he gave free coffee to everyone in the building, because she kept crazy hours and didn’t see most of her neighbors, but she imagined it was a perk that came with living in a nice place like this one…

Allie’s Website

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Read an excerpt from Bound & Determined–Coming Tuesday! (Contest)

This one’s releasing sometime early Tuesday morning, but I thought you might like to take a peek inside first! Hope you love the excerpt! Information regarding the contest is at the bottom of this post! ~DD

Pre-order your copy here!

Read an excerpt!

When the DJ’s speaker set crashed to the floor as the first women to arrive rushed the tables nearest the stage, Tara Toomey scrambled for a replacement and chalked the mishap up to high spirits.

When one of the volunteers carrying a tray of Jell-O shots tripped, and cherry and lime gelatin slid in glistening trails down his face and naked chest, she laughed as eager women offered to lick him clean.

However, it wasn’t until one of her staff whispered in her ear that she knew she was in for a long night. The main attraction had yet to arrive.

She crushed her dog-eared copy of the “Hook-up” program in her fist and headed toward the old-fashioned, double swinging doors, ready to stomp all the way to Redbone Ranch to drag his butt to town.

As she passed excited, tittering women her smile felt strained, and her nerves stretched taut. The “Annual Honky-tonk Hook-up” had always been a good time, but this year she wished she hadn’t been so quick to volunteer her bar again. Sure, it was good for business and many of the “blow-ins” from Houston, San Antonio, and San Angelo returned throughout the year because they enjoyed the event and Paraiso’s authentic western ambience.

But Tara wished she could return home, crawl into bed, and pull the covers over her head. The last thing she felt ready to do was watch one particular cowboy strut his stuff across the stage and land in some other woman’s clutches—even if it was just one night, completely innocent, right, and for a really good cause. The fact he might blow off the auction pissed her off almost as much as the thought of the spectacle he’d cause if he did finally make an entrance.

If anyone thought splintered speaker casings or a little spilled Jell-O were trouble, they hadn’t seen a room full of women erupt in the wake of one seriously sexy cowboy.

The thought soured her stomach. Still, she had a part to play in tonight’s festivities. Everyone seemed to think it was her job to make sure that cowboy showed up, because she was one of the few true friends he had. And after all, his picture in the auction advertisement had been the big pull.

Too many gussied-up women crowded the entrance to the bar, and the line wrapped twice around the narrow foyer. Not that anyone complained about the wait as bare-chested men wearing tight jeans, cowboy hats, and wicked smiles carried more trays laden with drinks down the long line.

Rather than wade through the cloud of perfume when all her “polite” was gone, Tara swept past the sign-in tables where volunteers busily took the women’s cash and handed out programs, shiny Mardi Gras beads, and wooden bidding paddles.

The combined scent of expensive perfumes made Tara’s nose twitch, so she pivoted on her heel and stomped toward the side entrance, reminded again about the cause of her agitation.

Perfume was like doe piss to this horned buck—irresistible bait. So, where the hell was he?

“He’s late!” a high-pitched voice squeaked behind her.

Tara didn’t even bother trying to pretend she didn’t know who “He” was, or that she didn’t know he hadn’t shown. Any woman with an ounce of estrogen in her veins would feel the tingle the moment the cowboy sauntered into the room.

“Tell me something I don’t already know,” Tara muttered, pausing at the door to shoot a glance over her shoulder.

Meaghan Garrity, the event’s “man-wrangler”, trotted toward her, her anxious gaze rising over the top of the clipboard she clutched to her chest. Spots of hectic color glazed each pale cheek. Her long red hair escaped the untidy knot at the top of her head in long curling tendrils. “Didn’t you tell him he was second on the program? We can’t start until he gets here.”

“He’ll be here,” Tara bit out, and then forced a smile. No use getting Meaghan more nervous than she already was. He wouldn’t stand them all up, would he?

Even as she said it, her stomach churned. There was only one thing that would keep the cowboy from his adoring fans. An easier fish to land—one he didn’t even have to bother moving his adorable tail to find.

Tara wondered what her name was, and the image of a beauty with her head snatched bald flashed through her mind. But she pasted on a smile to reassure her friend, while inside her anger began a slow, hot boil.

Leave it to Cody Westhofen to keep three hundred intoxicated women waitin’ on his sweet ass. Does the man think his sex appeal will forgive all sins?

Tara carefully ignored the little voice inside her that screamed an emphatic, Yes! Instead, she murmured, “Think that man would miss a chance at addin’ a hundred more numbers to his little black book?” Although she began the statement as a joke, anger scraped a sharper edge to her voice toward the end.

Tara caught herself before she began a rant, afraid Meaghan, whom she’d known since kindergarten, would wonder why one slow-as-molasses cowboy could get under her skin. After all, Tara was known for her ready smile, even temper but, especially, for her cowboy-proof armor.

She shoved her crumpled program into Meaghan’s hand. “Um…I’ll check outside and see what’s keepin’ him.”

“Or who! Better check back seats!” Meaghan whispered loudly. “That man can’t take a step without trippin’ over a droolin’ woman.”

With a wry twist of her lips, Tara pushed open the glass door to step out into the parking lot.

Outside, stars twinkled above the spotlight that illuminated the gravel lot overflowing with cars, SUVs, and pickup trucks. More vehicles lined the road leading to the bar for as far as she could see. Luckily, the southerly wind that had whipped up the stink from the stockyards earlier had changed course. Although a little humid, the air was sweet and cool.

Muffled music and laughter sounded from the building behind her, but for a moment, a peaceful calm surrounded her. Tara closed her eyes and dragged in a deep breath, sure this would be the last time she’d get a chance to relax tonight.

Gravel crunched behind her, and her eyes shot open. Thick, corded arms encircled her waist, a cowboy hat held in one hand. The crisp scent of spicy cologne tickled her nose. “Hey darlin’, afraid I wouldn’t show?”

Even if he hadn’t spoken first, she’d have known it was him. That telltale tingle raised goose bumps all over her body.

Tara stiffened and her eyes slid open, but she didn’t push the arms away. The snug pressure provided a moment’s reassurance however empty the promise.

She slid her hands over the tops of his and squeezed. “Cuttin’ it a little close, aren’t ya, cowboy?” she said, hoping she didn’t sound as breathless as she felt. “The natives are gettin’ restless.”

“Been waitin’ on you, sweetheart. Thought I’d let you get mad enough to wrestle me inside. You know how much I love to get you riled.” Cody’s arms withdrew, but before she had a chance to light into him good for being late, his hands gripped her hips and twirled her around.

And although she knew peeking up into his face would spell the end of her self-possession, her gaze rose to lock with his for a long, charged moment.

Even in the shadows, shards of pale electric blue pierced the night. Whoever didn’t think there was a God had never looked into Cody’s bluer-than-blue eyes. Their gazes had never lingered over the width of his shoulders, the masculine curve of his jaw, the strong jut of his square chin and straight nose.

With a body made for loving and hair so pale and silky it captured light like a halo around his head, a woman could be fooled into thinking he just might be an angel incarnate.

Until they saw the wicked curve of his lips—a smile so seductive, so sensually ripe, it triggered a primal response an octogenarian nun couldn’t deny.

Trapped against his naked chest, Tara dug deep for any frayed fragments of pride she still possessed and scowled. “What do you think you’re doin’? Anyone could look outside and see us.”

“What do you care?”

“I’m not your girlfriend,” Tara growled. “And I don’t want to be mistaken for one of your goodtime squeezes. I’d just as soon keep it on the down low that I’ve succumbed a time or two to your charms.”

Cody’s brows drew together, deepening the shadows engulfing his eyes, making his appearance seem a tad sinister. “Ashamed of me?” he asked softly. “Or are you ashamed you want me?”

Tara shivered, whether from the cooling tension in his voice or her own tightly wound anger, she couldn’t have said.

Her last speck of self-respect kept her frowning, denying his overpowering attraction. “No, I’m not ashamed of you, and I’m woman enough not to be ashamed all my parts seem to function just fine when you’re around, but I do have a reputation to uphold. If anyone found out I’ve been sleeping with the biggest womanizer in Texas, it would be ripped to shreds.”

“Sure sounds like shame to me.”

The easy, sexy slide of his voice told her she’d amused him. Cody always said he knew when she was lying because she talked too much without saying anything at all.

She took another deep breath to calm her racing heart. “I just don’t want everyone knowin’ my business. And since there isn’t really anything for them to know—I mean, it’s not like we’re a couple, right?—I’d just as soon not ask for trouble.”

“What kinda trouble you expectin’?”

Tara rolled her eyes. “You’re kidding, right? Trouble follows you everywhere you go! That wasn’t you Brandon Tynan took a couple of swings at for gettin’ fresh with Lyssa? Sarah Michelson didn’t almost get arrested for indecent exposure when she cornered you in the bathroom?”

“No man’s gonna punch me out for messin’ with you. They’d probably pin a medal on my chest for havin’ the guts. And I didn’t ask Sarah to follow me inside the bathroom.”

“No, you didn’t, but she did. And she wasn’t the first to throw herself at you. Do you think I’d have a business left if half my customers, the female half, decided to boycott me?”

Cody snorted. Then his lips stretched again into a smile. “You’re not makin’ any sense at all. Tonight got you rattled, sugar?” His hands slid up and down her back in an attempt to soothe her.

Her irritation spiked like oil breaching a well-head. “Cody, we don’t have time for you to play with me. Besides, would you want any of those women you’re trolling for tonight to think you’re already taken? They don’t know you like the rest of Paraiso does. They might think you actually do have a loyal bone in your body.”

Cody’s lips tightened for a second then relaxed, slowly sliding into his trademark smirk. “Gimme a kiss for good luck?”

She let out an exasperated huff. “Do you promise you’ll get your butt inside if I do?”

“Lady, don’t you know all you have to do is ask? Your pleasure’s all mine.”

She stifled the sigh sifting between her lips. If only that were true. “Well, I’m askin’.”

“For a kiss?”

She wrinkled her nose and forced a light-hearted laugh. “You’re impossible.”

His grin stretched. “And you’re beautiful.”

His head bent towards hers, and Tara forced herself to turn her head to the side. “This isn’t part of our agreement,” she whispered.

“It’s just a goddamn kiss,” he growled.

“Anytime you want to change the rules…”

His hands tightened on her waist. “Maybe those rules should be up for renegotiation. All I want’s a kiss. Not anything I’m not gonna give a dozen women tonight.”

“You’re wastin’ time.”

“You wanna explain what kept me in the parking lot?”

Tara tightened her lips and turned her head toward him. “Be quick.”

“Stubborn woman,” he said softly as he bent toward her.

A smile tugged at her lips as he bent over her again. No way was he gonna let a woman have the last word.

All her arguments bled away as he closed in. She pushed aside her concern that anyone might see. She’d waited all night for this kiss. Not that she’d let him know it. And lordy, he didn’t disappoint. Never did.

Never mind his mouth would be kissing dozens of lips before the night ended. For this moment, he was all hers.

His firm mouth captured hers and began a sexy, circling glide that sent an electric jolt of awareness straight through her. Her pulse began a delicious throb, her nipples beaded, and moist little tugs of arousal stirred between her legs.

She gasped against his mouth, and his tongue swept inside to ravish. A low, throaty growl rumbled from his chest into her mouth, and he jerked back his head. “Damn. Do we really have to go inside now?”

“It’s that or risk having three hundred women descending upon us mid-stroke in the parking lot.”

He settled his forehead against hers. “I love when you talk dirty. You should do it more often.”

“It’s a sad fact it doesn’t take more than ‘hello’ for you to get horny. Better get inside. Meaghan’s gonna have a coronary. And you forgot your shirt.”

“No, I didn’t. Just didn’t want it disappearing like the rest of my clothes did last year.”

“Women takin’ souvenirs?” Her lips curved.

His grin stretched wide. “Will you fight them off if they manage to get my pants this year?”

Her glance fell to the blue jeans lovingly curved over the bulge at the front of his pants and the leather chaps that encased both of his thick, muscled thighs. “Why on earth would you think I’d care?”

His eyes narrowed, falling to her mouth.

She fought to keep her lips from thinning, or Cody would know she was lying. Another little “tell” she’d never known she gave away—until he’d mentioned it.

His chest expanded around a deep sigh. “You sure know how to sink a dent in a man’s ego.”

“Someone has to give it a prick every now and then, or you’d be a complete jerk.”

He arched a brow. “Why do you put up with me if I’m such a pain?”

Tara felt her face and chest warm. “I live in hope of seeing you hog-tied to one woman some day and lovin’ it.”

His snort jerked back his head. “Better plan on livin’ a long, long time, sweetheart.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “You had your kiss…”

His hands dropped from her hips. “Guess Meaghan’s havin’ kittens right about now.”

“Kittens? I’m havin’ goddamn orange tabbies and alley cats!” Meaghan shouted from the side door. “Get your butt inside before they start a riot!”

*~*~*

Yeah, the auction gets hot and funny, and you won’t want to miss it! In the meantime…

Contest

Let me know whether you’ve read any of the stories in the Texas Cowboys series and which ones! Answer for a chance to win one of these books…

  

Desiree Holt: It’s the 99 cent January blizzard!

It’s the 99 cent January blizzard!

Load up your Kindle, because from January 1, 2018 to January 31 2018, these books will be on sale for just 99 cents!

They served their country in every branch of the military—army Delta Force, SEALs, air force, marines. They are pilots, snipers, medics—whatever the job calls for. And now as civilians they serve in other capacities, as private consultants training security for defense contractors, as black-ops combatants eradicating drug dealers, as trained operatives ferreting out traitors. With the women in their lives, each of whom have a unique psychic ability, they are a force to be reckoned with. Risen from the ashes of war, they continue to fight the battle on all fronts.

They are Phoenix.

Jungle Inferno

For Faith and Mark, the telepathic connection they’d shared for years was nothing compared to the scorching physical connection they realized as adults. From the first moment they came together, erotic was too pale a word to describe their relationship. Together they explored each other’s deepest, darkest desires. But now Mark, survivor of an ambush to his Delta Force team, is a prisoner of a terrorist group in the Peruvian jungle, and his telepathic communication with Faith is his only contact with the world. While she searches for help to save him, they survive on dreams that took them beyond all sexual boundaries. Can she persuade the men of Phoenix to undertake a treacherous rescue and bring Mark back to her arms?

Get your copy here!

Extrasensory

Mia Fleming’s precognitive visions about Carpenter Techtronics are so vivid, she resorts to sending anonymous emails to the company. She’s also having visions of a gorgeous man who arouses her to the point she’s satisfying herself just to get some relief. She’s shocked when the man shows up in her office, demanding to know what she knows about Carpenter.

Dan Romeo is just helping his friend track down the person threatening his company when he meets Mia. One look at her and he has a hard time thinking about anything but indulging in off-the-charts sex with the intriguing woman—until bodies begin falling. As Mia’s visions escalate, so does the explosive sex between her and Dan, as well as an unexpected emotional connection. When Mia is almost killed, Dan and his team must race to find the culprits before they can strike again—or put Mia down for good

Get your copy here!

Scent of Danger

Kelly Monroe was shocked when her dog, Xena, a Caucasian Ovcharka seemed to bond at once with Rick Latrobe, a partner in the high profile Phoenix Agency. Ovcharkas are known for linking with only their owners. But Xena is picking up Rick’s wave length, very much aware when an attempt is made on Rick’s life, and driving Kelly crazy with signals of danger regarding Rick’s current project, ferrying a shipment of arms to a private security cadre in Iraq. Rick is nearly killed when the shipment is stolen by terrorists who are hot in his trail. Only Kelly and Xena, coached by members of The Lotus Circle to expand the psychic link between the three of them—can keep him safe. As Rick scrambles to learn who’s behind the whole mess, the relationship he and Kelly have deepens. But Xena is the real star, not only signaling when danger is at hand but “sniffing” out the killers.

Get your copy here!

Freeze Frame

Katherine “Kat” Culhane was a highly sought after remote viewer, but her gift was beginning to splinter, and just at a time when she needed it the most. Her sister Mari, along with Mari’s employer and his family, have been kidnapped. But Mike D’Antoni, a partner in the shadowy Phoenix Agency, is suddenly back in her life and could be the only person to help find the hostages. The chemistry between them is just as hot as it ever was, but they parted on very bad terms. Can they put the past behind them as they race to find and rescue the hostages? And what will happen when it’s time to say goodbye again?

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Sierra Brave: Christmas at the Beach? Yes, please!

Hello, I’m Sierra Brave, multi-published author of steamy, spine-tingling romance. Thanks so much to Delilah Devlin for having me guest on her blog today. It’s a pleasure.

After I wrote Crystal Coast Christmas, a relative of mine had the nerve to ask, “Who goes to the beach at Christmas time?”

I’m sorry, but, say what?

At the time, I simply explained my main characters, Jessica and Chase, lived at the coast year round; but even if they didn’t, is there anything better than a day at the beach? No matter if the weather is hot or cold, I love the sand and surf. Even if I don’t dip a single toe into the water, I enjoy a trip to the coast. The minute I set eyes on the ocean, my entire body relaxes. I’m sure I’m not the only one who feels this way. In fact, medical research indicates, “Staring at the ocean actually changes our brain waves’ frequency and puts us into a mild meditative state.”

The waves aren’t the only relaxing element either. The beach offers a feast for many of the senses. Even the smell of the salt in the sea air refreshes and energizes me. Combine the beach and romance and a recipe for love emerges, and I wrote all the books in the Crystal Coast series with that concept in mind.

CRYSTAL COAST CHRISTMAS

After escaping a bad relationship and moving into her aunt’s guest quarters, marine biologist Jessica Butler has sworn off love and relationships. Still, she can’t resist a night of no-strings passion with hunky soldier, Captain Chase Culpepper. Their evening sizzles, leaving Jessica satisfied but wary. Her ex did a great job of destroying her self-confidence, leaving Jessica reluctant to take the plunge into romance again. While Chase is asleep, Jessica runs.

Chase can’t believe he’s found his sexual equal in Jessica. When he wakes up alone the next morning, he’s determined to make Jessica his, in spite of her reluctance to put her heart on the line.

Jessica’s sworn off men for good, but the faster she runs, the more Chase finds to love about her. What will it take for him to win her trust and her love?

SNIPPET

Jessica closed her eyes, delighting in Chase’s touch. She couldn’t remember the last time a man had taken such time and care to fine-tune her body, testing her flesh to learn where to touch to make her scream. His mouth found her other breast, his tongue tracing the rosy circle.

She squirmed beneath him, bucking her hips, her nails raking across his broad shoulders and down his muscular back. He blazed a trail leading him to her navel, which he nibbled and kissed, making her squeal. “Oh, God!”

BUY LINKS

Amazon: http://a.co/1iv5HPM

Apple: https://itunes.apple.com/nz/book/crystal-coast-christmas/id1323820875

B&N: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/crystal-coast-christmas-sierra-brave/1127628774

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/crystal-coast-christmas

Google: https://books.google.com/books?isbn=1682524337

CONTACT SIERRA

Email: sierra@sierrabrave.rocks

Twitter: @bravesierra

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/Sierra-Brave-1422713414692067/

Website: http://sierrabrave.rocks/

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Lindsay McKenna: Excerpt from BOXCAR CHRISTMAS

Read an excerpt from Lindsay McKenna’s heartwarming Boxcar Christmas! And if you’d like to read the story behind this book, head here: The story behind Boxcar Christmas.

CHAPTER 1

November 1

Hamilton, Montana

“It wasn’t much to look at. The wooden slats that made up the ancient red caboose were weathered, the boxcar sitting on the edge of a flat yellow grass meadow, backed by thousands of evergreens in western Montana. Early November wind whistled and cut at Jesse Myer’s exposed face. She felt the icy morning coldness seep through her rain dampened olive green Army jacket as she emerged cautiously out of the woods. She had discovered the boxcar while hunting rosehips scattered along the banks of the Bitterroot River. It was a source of protein for her tightened, gnawing stomach in want of food.

The large, oval-shaped meadow bordered the water and the rose hips were a substantial source of food when in the back country. She chewed slowly on another one, knowing it was packed with nutrition. Shivering, she felt hope spike through her as she walked out of the woods that lay west of Hamilton, a small hunting and fishing tourist town. She had followed the river in search of a place to pitch her tent outside the city limits.

Standing on the edge of the meadow, she fully surveyed it. It rained at dusk last night and then snowflakes had fallen thick and fast throughout the nighttime hours, and toward dawn the ground was covered with about six inches of the white stuff. As a gray dawn sluggishly crawled upon the eastern horizon, the flakes had turned into a soft, constant rain once more. Most of the snow had melted as the temperature rose, but patches of white still existed here and there–it was an Indian summer event. Jesse sincerely hoped that it meant warmer weather would come into the area and warm it up for a couple of weeks while she hunted for a place to live.

She’d discovered the ancient Union Pacific caboose at the edge of the meadow by accident. There was no telling how old it was, the slats of tongue-and-grove wood that composed its sides were worn , the paint chipped off but still solidly in place despite the harsh winter weather that it had obviously endured over the years. There were no railroad tracks around from what she could see. The under carriage of the caboose had been removed and it had been set upon a rectangular concrete slab, reminding her of the tiny house craze sweeping through her Millennial generation.

Her gaze absorbed the forty-foot long boxcar and she could see that at one time, it had been well cared for. But now, it looked utterly abandoned, the paint dull and peeling off the sturdy oak staves beneath it. Someone had brought this caboose out here. Was it someone who lived in Hamilton? Maybe the owner of this plot of land used it as a cabin to hunt and fish on weekends? Jesse had no idea, but there it was. Maybe it could be a possible home for her instead of the tent she had strapped to the huge knapsack she carried on her back. She wanted to make sure no one was living in it presently and thought about trespassing to find out–even though it went against her grain. Jesse couldn’t explain the allure to do just that.

She called out several times, her voice echoing around the meadow. There was no response or movement from inside the boxcar. The four windows along the meadow side were dirty, and she longed to clean them. Deciding either no one was home or living in it, she curved her hand around the rusted metal railing at the rear platform of the boxcar and took the first tentative step upward. The ends of each wooden step curved upward from age and now rested precariously on the metal frame beneath each one, the nails pulled out by rain and snow over the years. The step groaned. Not that she weighed that much. In the Army, she had been a hundred and sixty pounds; but three months ago, when she received an honorable medical discharge at the end of eight years of service, she had slowly lost at least twenty-five pounds due lack of appetite and no money to buy food. Her Army jacket, the only reminder of her life since age eighteen, hung loosely on her frame.

Her gloves were threadbare, her fingertips numb. She hauled herself up the rest of the creaking wooden steps and leaned forward, cupping her hands around her eyes and peering through the dirty glass of the door to see what was inside the caboose. It was a possible place to live but she had no money for a room rental. She’d just gotten a job at Katie’s Koffee Bean in Hamilton as a dish washer. But it was part time and Jesse had no money yet to rent a room in town, much less an apartment. She had lived in her tent since leaving the Army and was prepared to do it now, but maybe her luck was about to change.

Get your copy here!

Janice Seagraves: Matrix Crystal Hunters

Thank you, Delilah, for having me on your blog today.

I hope everyone had a wonderful Christmas and look forward to a prosperous New Year.

Hi everyone, I’m Janice Seagraves, and I am a published author of nine books, three of which are series, and five short stories published in anthologies. I write in various romance genres; contemporary, paranormal, science fiction, and fantasy.

Let me walk you through my process as I wrote a series.

First off, let’s talk about story ideas. I get ideas all the time. Watching the news can spark ideas or a trip to the mall. A walk through my neighborhood helped me develop a scene in Year of the Cat (my paranormal romance).

Do I get ideas from my dreams? Sometimes. If the dream is interesting enough to remember. Sometimes they’re not or they’re disjointed.

When I wrote Matrix Crystal Hunters it came from a dream. A woman was on another planet, there was these funny rocks she was examining, and she discovered they gave of energy. There was also a man who crept into her tent, and she nailed him with a frying pan. I had to figure out how these two things fit together and wrote the story.

And then I decided on the genre and setting, it was going to be a science fiction romance set on another planet. A desert planet.

I also had to figure out the what ifs.

What if… a team from Earth had fought a wormhole and landed on a planet and they were sick from radiation poisoning and their fuel exhausted?

What if… their team’s geologist, (I decided to call her Maya), heard of a crystal that would multiply energy.

What if… harnessing the energy of these crystals was the only way to go back to Earth?

What if… a native of the planet fell madly in love with our heroine (I named him Vach) and decided to creep into her tent late one night…

And she brained him with a frying pan.

Okay, I know that sounds bad, but you’ll have to read the book to see why it works.

When I wrote Matrix Crystal Hunters it was exciting. The story came together fast. I’d go to bed late and get up the next morning to turn the computer and write some more. I love those times. It feels like magic as I ride the wave of creativity and the story seems to flow straight from my fingertips and onto the computer page.

After I finished, I kept revising the story.

That’s what writers do, they can’t leave their stories alone and have to keep fiddling with it.

I read a meme somewhere that stated that “You can teach a someone to write, and then they’ll have a lifetime of paralyzing self-doubt.”

I don’t know about the self-doubt, but I do go over and over my finished manuscript until I feel it is as sanded and polished within an inch of its life.

After the first story was published, the characters kept talking.

I don’t know if you know this, but writers hear voices. If you see a writer or published author staring off into space, they are listening to their character’s voices. We’re not crazy… or maybe that is the definition of schizophrenia? *scratches head*

So, I kept writing. Book two came out, Matrix Crystal Christmas. It’s made up of two short stories. It wasn’t originally supposed to be about Christmas, but the Christmas season was coming up and I thought I’d add some Christmas elements to the last chapter of each story.

In “Crystal Flower Christmas”: Vach and Maya are on a mission to undam the Laonooco River for the drought stricken region. As heartache fractures their marriage, will the gift of a crystal flower mend their relationship or break it beyond repair?

In “Crystal Clear Christmas”: Plague has struck the village of Zama and the citizens blame the only human left on Zenevieva, Maya. Will Vach make the ultimate sacrifice to save his wife?

I actually thought I was done with Maya and Vach, but then their son wanted his own book and I wrote Matrix Crystal River.

It was the first time I wrote a shy character. Most of the women I write about don’t have a shy bone in their bodies. The stories theme is also a bit different.

What if… the humans came back, and their greedy Earth government wanted the matrix crystals to exploit?

What if… their geologist though talented in finding and shaping crystals was painfully shy?

What if… River Namaste wanted her and wouldn’t let anything, or anyone get in his way?

River’s story was published last year.

Aha, I thought I am done.

And then, Vach and Maya’s daughter is poking me in the shoulder and told me it was her turn.

Okay, fine. I wrote the next book, Matrix Crystal Rebels, and it was just published 12-19-2017. So just a few days ago.

Again, the ‘what ifs’ are a bit different.

What if…Earth geologist Steen’s mission is to look and act like a Zeeman, so he can locate matrix crystals.

What if… Steen’s deception fails, and the only one willing to help him is Rain Namaste? (Maya and Vach’s daughter?)

What if… Steen doesn’t realize he’s fallen in love with the lovely redhead until someone tries to claim her on Hymeneal Night?

What will he do then?

I’m proud of Matrix Crystal Rebels, I think it is my best work so far. I felt the same way I did while writing Matrix Crystal Hunters. I went to bed late and got up early to write some more. As I wrote the story, it flowed effortlessly.

This is why I love writing so much. *grin*

Matrix Crystal Rebels

Excerpt:

“Who are these for?” asked the shop owner.

“My brother,” She said without a beat.

“Which one?”

“Ah, now that would be telling.” She touched the side of her nose and added more clothes to the stack. “How much?”

He went through the stack, muttering under his breath. “Fifty ducats.”

“That’s a little steep. These are used. I’ll give you thirty.”

The proprietor rested a hand on top of the stack. “You’ve got a big pile of clothes here. Forty.”

“It’s okay I’ve got it.” Steen dug into his pocket. This was for him after all.

“Steven, you don’t need to,” Rain said. If she was play acting, it was flawless.

“Excellent.” The shop owner bowed and took the coins which he dropped into a carved box. He then bagged the clothing into several totes. “If any of these don’t fit, please feel free to bring them back.”

Rain frowned. “At a significant deduction on the exchange?”

“Of course, how else am I to make a profit?” He smiled, handing over both totes. “It was nice doing business with you.”

“Thank you. Steven, can you get the totes?”

Steen took the bags, surprised at how much they weighed. “Oof, heavy.”

“You’re a big guy, suck it up. We have more shops to visit.” Rain strolled out the door ahead of him.

“A little advice from a fellow male, she won’t be easy to woo,” the store owner told him. “Rain is a lovely young female, but she’s as difficult as her mother. Just ask Vach. Rain is like Maya, but more energetic. It’s like someone put way too much sweetener into her daily tea.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” Steen followed Rain out the door.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Matrix Crystal Hunters: https://www.amazon.com/Matrix-Crystal-Hunters-Book-Crystals-ebook/dp/B00FJ10W26/

Matrix Crystal Christmas: https://www.amazon.com/Matrix-Crystal-Christmas-Crystals-Book-ebook/dp/B00GJCNBAY/

Matrix Crystal River: https://www.amazon.com/Matrix-Crystal-River-Crystals-Three-ebook/dp/B01MDOHI70/

Matrix Crystal Rebels: https://www.amazon.com/Matrix-Crystal-Rebels-Book-Four-ebook/dp/B078HL6113/

And since I mentioned it, here’s Year of the Cat: https://www.amazon.com/Year-Cat-Janice-Seagraves-ebook/dp/B0748CP9JH

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Find Janice Seagraves’s on:

Her website: https://janice-seagraves.org/

On Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/Janice-Seagraves-Author-117551164948239/

And on Twitter: https://twitter.com/janiceseagraves

Janice’s Amazon page, where you can see all her books: https://www.amazon.com/Janice-Seagraves/e/B0056D223Y/

Janice’s Smashwords page: https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/Ladyjanice

And here is Janice on Barns and Nobles: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/janice%20seagraves/_/N-0

Soft Resolutions (Contest)

Happy New Year!

Here’s to a shiny, hopeful 2018! And I can’t believe I’m even typing those digits. Sheeeee-ett. I remember when I was partying like it was 1999! For real!

A new year, and it’s that time again. I know many of you never make a list of resolutions because you feel as though you’re setting yourselves up for failure, but I believe we can all set some “soft promises” to ourselves.

I’m a list girl. Always have been, and the older I get, I lean on them even harder. If it’s not on my list, it’s not on my radar sort of thing. But my lists are usually compiled of very finite goals and are almost always aimed at writing projects. So—work-related! Not at all a “soft promise”. So far as those go…

I don’t usually set weight goals because, like many of you, I always let myself down. I have no desire to be reed-thin, but I do want to feel better, so that’s my soft goal: Feel better in 2018! And I do have a box of some diet stuff waiting for me to get serious for a week or two to get the process going. Yuck, but I can do anything in the short-term. My hope is to eat less, move more, even if the moving is just cleaning house or walking rather than driving across the highway to my dd’s for coffee.

Then there’s the art thing. Writing is my creative passion, but for the past few years, it’s felt more like a job. I show up every day at the keyboard and pound out words or edit others’ words. I’ve been feeling a little empty, like the creative spark needed a new outlet. I’ve been making jewelry, but it doesn’t always feed my need for color and freedom because wrapping, linking, beading doesn’t feel explosively creative. This year, I’m going to try to get the creative zest back in my life. First, I’m going to write a series that lights my fire: Montana Bounty Hunters. Humor mixed with action and sexy times feels right. I had so much fun writing the first book, REAPER, that I’m eager to see what happens next in that world. And, I’m rejoining the local art guild this month. It’s time to take a few classes, learn some new techniques, and get out the paint!

Lastly, I want to learn to be a saver. I’m luckier than most in that I won’t have to depend on Social Security when I’m in my dotage. I have a couple of retirements that will kick in when I hit 60, but I’d love to feel more in control—and to take some trips. So, with Hawaii and Iceland in mind, I’m taking the 52-week savings challenge. It’s small beans, but I hope it will help me learn a little discipline. No, I don’t need another paint brush or the latest tablet. Not that I am any good at denying myself little treasures, but one thing I’ve learned about myself is that I get EXTREME pleasure from treasure hunting at flea markets and yard sales. Those pretty buttons, odd beads, and small machinery finds help feed my art habit. So, maybe I don’t need a new Michael Kors bag, but I can get my shopping on looking for just the right piece of bric-a-brac for the next mixed media piece I work on.

So, that’s my soft list of resolutions. Not a big list, and I won’t attack it with any “all or nothing” ambition, just a quiet plodding resolution.

So, how about it? Do you have a “soft” resolution?

Something you’d love to do for yourself this coming year?

If you comment, you’ll be entered to win a small Amazon.com gift card.  ~DD