Delilah Devlin's Blog, page 398

2 Days to Burnin’ Up Memphis! (Contest)

Two more days. I can hardly wait. When you read it, you’ll get back to me, right? Let me know what you thought. Tell me who you want center stage in the next story…?

This book’s about more than just the sex. Yes, there’s tons of sex, but it’s about a firehouse that’s hurting too. No one more than Coop. I’m sharing the opening of the story with you below so you can see the demons he’s fighting. Coop’s a little bitter and closed off. You know what he needs.

And if you haven’t already pre-ordered your copy… Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Samhain | Kobo | iTunes 

Post a comment today to win a free download of your choice

from among my Delta Heat titles!

The opening…

One of the crappiest shifts of firefighter John “Coop” Cooper’s life took another nosedive when his lieutenant caught him before he’d even had a chance to drop his turnout gear after their latest run. With sooty sweat stinging his eyes and his suspenders half-up half-down, he sighed as the LT curled his fingers, beckoning him over.

Coop knew exactly what this was about, and despite his fatigue, his mind zipped through all the possible excuses he could muster to escape.

“You’re the last one,” Lieutenant Knox Triplett said, his face hard and his hazel gaze narrowing on Coop.

Used to be that Coop cared about pleasing Knox. He’d strove to be first to his gear and into the truck, first in the door of a burning building, and was careful never to fuck up  a room-to-room search. He’d cared about being the best firefighter he could be. But lately, he’d just been showing up, going through the motions. Doing what he had to do to get through the shift.

Knox had been patient, his gazes merciful and sympathetic. But it looked as though he’d reached the end of his tether so far as Coop was concerned.

Coop wished he could feel anger or shame. But all he could muster was irritation. He wanted out of the station. The shift was nearly over and he had to dodge this bullet one more time. “The last one? You sure about that?” Coop asked, not bothering to look Knox in the eye.

Knox tapped his clipboard. “I asked for a hundred percent cooperation with the internal investigation, with the NIOSH assholes. Don’t know what it is with you guys. This should be the easy part. The counselor’s here to help you.”

Coop raked a hand through his hair. “That’s the point, LT. I don’t need his help. I’m tired of talking about it.”

A muscle tensed in the side of the LT’s jaw. “Let me make this simple. If you don’t make time to see Russell, I’m putting you on suspension.”

Coop cussed under his breath. By Knox’s stern tone, Coop knew the LT wasn’t bluffing. “Where is he?” he grumbled.

“The conference room. Don’t bother showering. No more stalling.” Finally, his stern expression eased. “Just get it over with, Coop. You’re not the only one who lost a friend. We’re here for you.” He reached out and awkwardly patted Coop’s shoulder and then tilted his head toward the corridor. Compassion and firmness. The LT never slacked. He took his job seriously.

“Let me drop my gear,” Coop mumbled. He turned back to the truck and took his sweet time stripping off his boots and trousers.

“Don’t worry about cleaning it,” Noah, the engine driver, said as he came around the side of the vehicle. “I’ve got you covered. No need to piss the LT off any further.”

How many people had heard their conversation? Coop didn’t bother looking around to see. He nodded and turned toward the corridor.

“Hey,” Noah called after him. “Some of the guys are going with Billy to his club tonight. Why not join us?”

Noah meant well. All the men did. They’d tiptoed around him, given him time and space to handle his grief. But Coop had turned down every invitation for drinks and even for Saturday football . “Think I’ll pass,” he muttered. He fisted his hands at his sides and strode down the corridor.

Farley Russell was seated at the table in the conference room, a pen in hand and a folder opened in front of him. The bristles of his buzz cut shone gold in the fluorescent light. He glanced up when Coop entered the room and gave him a half-smile when he slumped into a chair. “We’ll make this quick. Unless you need to talk.”

Coop shook his head and tightened his lips.

“How you sleeping, Coop?”

“Just fine.” If waking up in a cold sweat night after night was fine.

Russell gave a soft snort and his lips twisted. “Knox says you haven’t been performing up to your previous level. That you seem to be operating on automatic.”

Coop shifted on his chair and strummed his fingers on the tabletop . He couldn’t make his impatience any clearer. “I haven’t fucked up.”

“Yet.” Russell made some notes in the folder and then closed it and clasped his hands together, resting them atop the sheaf of notes. “Truitt was your friend,” he said carefully and without any emotion.

Something Coop appreciated. He was done with the looks and the soft voices. He grunted. Danny Truitt had been more than just a friend. The two of them had attended high school together, had applied and been accepted to the same firefighter academy class. They’d jockeyed hard to win spots in the same firehouse, which had taken a couple of years, and then they’d spent eight years with the same crew in Firehouse 69.

Their bunks had been side-by-side. Their lockers too. They’d double-dated. Coop had stood as Danny’s best man when he’d married Melody.

And it had been Coop who had hoisted up Danny’s body from the wreckage of the roof that had collapsed when they’d vented it during an apartment fire.

The moment he’d gotten Danny to the ground and pushed off his SCBA mask was forever imprinted on his mind. Danny’s irrepressible grin, even in the worst circumstances, had been forever wiped away.

“I’ve read the report. Talked to the other firefighters who worked that fire. You were in the middle of it, a step away from joining Danny in that hole. You can’t blame yourself. You could just as easily have died.”

And he should have. Coop’s fingers curled tightly. Danny had a wife and a kid on the way. Other than Danny and his buddies in the firehouse, no one would have missed Coop. No one depended on him.

“You’ve been hard to nail into a chair.” Russell’s smile was thin, but his brown eyes were steady, probing. He’d been a firefighter until he’d been sidelined with a back injury. He knew what it was like in the firehouse. The fact he’d had some college gave him a new lease. Now he helped other firefighters in crisis.

All Coop had was this job. This house. He had no family. His mother died when he was still in diapers, and his dad had died of cancer during Coop’s senior year of high school. And now, he’d lost his best friend. But because he was part of this house, he was holding it together—if just barely. Even though he knew Russell wasn’t some psychologist sitting in an ivory tower, studying him like he was a case and not a man, he still didn’t feel like spilling his guts. “I’m handling it,” he said, his voice a growl, something he didn’t intend, but he didn’t really care if he hurt Russell’s feelings. He didn’t want to be here. How much clearer could he make that fact known?

Russell sighed. “Look, I won’t keep you. I’ll check you off the list.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card, which he handed to Coop. “You’ve met your LT’s requirements, but if you ever need to talk—doesn’t have to be about the fire or Danny Truitt—I’m here.”

Reluctantly, Coop took it. He curved his hand around it, bending it. He’d toss it when he left. No need to be ruder than he’d already been. Russell just wanted to help.

But Coop didn’t want help. Didn’t deserve it. “We done?”

Russell nodded, and Coop shot up out of the chair. He checked himself at the door and gave the other man a nod before escaping. Once outside the room, he breathed deeply. A shower. Then home. Maybe Christa would be happy enough seeing him to give him a quick fuck before he slept for a day.

But when he entered the locker room, his footsteps became leaden again, his shoulders weighed down. He approached his locker, trying not to look to the right. A splotch of bright white snagged his gaze. The stenciled plate with the name Truitt etched across it was gone, replaced by a white slash of tape, the name Harris printed in Magic Marker.

Coop sucked in a deep breath and then exploded in anger, his closed fist slamming against the door and leaving a concave dent. Dammit, there were other empty lockers that weren’t Danny’s. What the fuck?

“Better to rip it off like a Band-Aid,” came Knox’s voice from the doorway, sounding hollow in the small room. “We have a replacement. He’ll be here Monday morning.”

Coop didn’t bother turning. With his shoulders stiff, he listened as the LT’s footsteps faded away before he opened his own locker.

A fuck, maybe two. Maybe he’d get shitfaced, although inwardly he cringed at the memory of the last conversation he’d had with Christa. He’d been drunk, and remembered she’d threatened to leave him. They’d been together for three years on and off, and the sex was still great.

“You never talk to me.”

So what was new? They’d landed in bed the first night they’d met. Conversation wasn’t what they were about.

Coop stripped and stuffed his dirty clothes into the laundry sack to take home. He’d shower, just like he had hundreds of times. He’d go home. Come Monday, he’d be back, facing some other asshole trying to take Danny’s place. He slammed his locker shut.

No one could replace Danny. He rubbed his chest over his heart, but it didn’t diminish the pain, the constant ache. The guilt. Weary now, he shuffled to the shower. All he needed was a fuck, a beer and a night of dreamless sleep.

3 Days to Burnin’ Up Memphis! (Contest)

On Tuesday, the first of the Firehouse 69 books releases. If you loved the Delta Heat cop series (5 Ways ‘Til Sunday, Fournicopia, A Perfect Trifecta, Twice the Bang, and Once is Never Enough), and were sad to see it end—well, it didn’t. The Firehouse 69 books are an offshoot of that series, and some of the characters from the first five books will appear throughout.

Rest easy. My firemen are every bit as kinky as my cops were.

If you haven’t already pre-ordered your copy, here’s where you can go to rectify that oversight: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Samhain | Kobo | iTunes 

And if anyone out there would like to host me on their blog to talk about this book or share excerpts, I’ll bring prizes and promo the hell out of it! Just email me.

Post a comment today to win a free download of your choice

from among my Delta Heat titles!

* * * * *

Burnin’ Up Memphis

 

She’s the one fire he may not be able to control.

Firehouse 69, Book 1

When a roof collapse kills his best friend and his girlfriend clears out his apartment and leaves, firefighter John Cooper knows he shouldn’t sit alone in his empty apartment. But when he accepts an invitation to Club LaForge, his feet get colder with every step he takes inside.

The sights, sounds and smells of the BDSM club make him sweat, and not because he’s turned off. Yet he can’t bring himself to admit—to himself, or to his luscious guide, Moira—that this lifestyle might just be what he needs.

An experienced BDSM trainer, Moira senses that Coop is not only a Dom in the making, but exactly what she’s been looking for. A man to be her lover and her Dom. The only problem is, Coop isn’t looking for anything complicated.

Moira’s willing to start slow and easy, but even once there’s enough trust to bring Coop into her world—and to her Dom—she’s still worried he’ll look for the nearest exit.

Warning: Do you smell smoke? Don’t worry, it’s just a hot and sexy firefighter getting down and dirty. Contains BDSM scenes, ropes, floggers, some spanking, some sharing, and some five-alarm sex.

Okay, so this excerpt’s a little raw. Enjoy!

So here she was, edgy and needy. So excited she was afraid she’d be a useless lay because she’d come like a rocket. And she wanted to be the best he’d ever had. Wanted him to want her even a fraction as much as she wanted him.

Watching him play with his friends, watching as he’d been hammered time and again for his inattention and then watching those spurts of power and speed had proved he was in some damn shape. All hills and hollows and oodles of stamina. And now she knew how hard the muscle was cloaking that tall, angular frame. She wanted everything he’d bring to bed.

When they reached the parking lot, he dragged her straight to his car. “We’ll get yours later.” All during the five-minute drive to his apartment, his hand remained on her thigh, anchoring her there, claiming her in a way. Something that kept her hot.

Moira waited silently beside Coop as he fumbled with his keys at the apartment door. Her whole body felt tight and hard. And she was shivering despite the heat.

He opened the door, shoved it wide and then stood back to allow her inside.

She stepped over the threshold. The soft bottoms of her flip-flops snicked on the floor, the sound echoing in the empty space. She glanced left into a bare living room, dark blond bamboo floors that looked dusty, a bundle of brown packing paper sitting square in the middle of the floor. “Wow. She cleaned you out.”

“Doesn’t matter.” A muscle worked at the edge of his jaw, tensing.

She stepped toward him, reaching up to soothe it, hoping the tension was for her, not that other woman. “You said she left a bed.”

His gaze flickered toward the ceiling. “There’s not any sheets or pillows.”

She arched a brow. “Baby, they’d only get in the way.” Taking a deep breath, Moira turned and lifted her T-shirt over her head. She let it fall from a fingertip as she began walking slowly toward the wooden staircase, Coop on her heels. She left her flip-flops at the bottom of the stairs and reached behind her to unclasp her bra. Midway up the staircase, she tossed the bra over her shoulder and smiled when she heard a slow inhalation, knowing he’d caught it and was sniffing at her perfume.

She wagged her hips, exaggerating their sway even as she undid the snap of her jeans shorts and pushed them halfway down her hips. At the top of the stairs, she paused, let them drop and then glanced over her shoulder.

He stared back, his glance sweeping over her ass, crushing her bra in his fist. Again, his sweatpants stretched over his erection.

“Which way?” she asked.

He jerked his chin to the left.

When she turned back and strode toward the door on the left, she felt fingers scrape the waistband of her panties. The elastic stretched and then gave, and he tore them away. Naked now, she walked faster as her chest rose and fell in deep, excited swells.

She walked into the room. There were no curtains hanging from the brass rods. Sunlight gleamed between the slats of the blinds. She noted the bed with its bare mattress, a closet with clothes spilling out onto the floor. Again, she glanced at the bed. Although the top looked pristine, it felt dirty that they’d fuck on a naked mattress. Their fluid would sink into the pale cream fabric. And he didn’t care.

How did she want this to begin? She knew she needed him. Needed to feel the stretch of him quickly because her knees were shaking, her chest and arms shivering. But she didn’t want to be in charge. Wanted him to take control.

Moira crawled onto the mattress and lay down on her belly. She pulled her hair to one side and stared at Coop. He was still standing in the doorway, curling his fists at his sides. The look in his eyes was predatory, feral. He needed a bath. Sweat glistened on his exposed skin. Dirt smudged his cheeks and arms. There were bits of grass on his clothes and hair.

The sight of him made her nipples so aroused she pushed up slightly to rub her chest on the bed side-to-side as she stared back at him.

At last, he moved, taking a step inside the doorway. “Aren’t you going to show me?” Coop said, his voice silky and deep.

“Show you what?”

“What you want fucked?”

Suz deMello: Perilous Play

I’m so delighted to be a part of the eighth What to Read After Fifty Shades of Grey boxed set, which includes squirm-inducing, edgy erotic fiction. My fictionalized memoir is part of this set.

Check it out:

One woman’s journey into the contemporary kink underworld, Perilous Play is Suz deMello’s explosive personal account of her experiences with BDSM. Engaging and honest, this groundbreaking memoir will grab you and never let you go.

Trapper’s first word to me was, “Kneel.”

I obeyed, more excited than I had ever been.

He collared me, of course, then buckled wrist and ankle cuffs on me. I went down on him for a long time, with him showing me how he most liked to be blown. Nevertheless, he didn’t come, and I was frantic about that. Last time, he’d lavished praise on my oral skills. And now…?

I stood to pee, and he followed me into the bathroom. When we were both done, he wrapped his arms around me in a full-body embrace.

I had never felt so cherished in my life. Trapper’s hugs were all-consuming, his kisses magic.

Then, without warning, he swatted my bottom. Hard.

I yelped.

“Don’t yell in my ear,” he growled, and slapped my ass again.

I buried my face in his shoulder and emitted a squeak.

The spanking went on and on, with Trapper holding me tight and determinedly slapping my rump until, quivering, I could do nothing but gasp, “Please sir, please sir, please sir, please…” my usual refrain.

Then he wanted me to cry. For him. But as distraught as I was over the emotional situation, I couldn’t drag forth even a single tear.

He hooded and gagged me. Using metal loops embedded in the black leather cuffs, he tied me to the four-poster bed spread-eagled, face down.

I shook with anticipation. He was going to spank me some more, and boy, I needed that. Needed the pain that would blossom into sweet pleasure when he entered me with his cock. Needed the fierce orgasms that would tear through my body, leaving me limp.

Here’s where you can buy this excellent boxed set:

Kindle US – http://amzn.to/1BS3Q3L

Kindle UK – http://amzn.to/1zHXlM5

iTunes – http://bit.ly/1zHXjnr

Nook – http://bit.ly/1BS3Q3N

Kobo – http://bit.ly/1yvWnBC

About Suz deMello: 

Best-selling, award-winning author Suz deMello, a.k.a Sue Swift, has written seventeen romance novels in several subgenres, including erotica, comedy, historical, paranormal, mystery and suspense, plus a number of short stories and non-fiction articles on writing. A freelance editor, she’s held the positions of managing editor and senior editor, working for such firms as Totally Bound and Ai Press. She also takes private clients.

Her books have been favorably reviewed in Publishers Weekly, Kirkus and Booklist, won a contest or two, attained the finals of the RITA and hit several bestseller lists.

A former trial attorney, her passion is world travel. She’s left the US over a dozen times, including lengthy stints working overseas. She’s now writing a vampire tale and planning her next trip.

–Find her books at http://www.suzdemello.com

–For editing services, email her at suzdemello@gmail.com

–Befriend her on Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/suzdemello

–She tweets @Suzdemello

–Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/suzdemello/

–Goodreads: http://bit.ly/SuzATGoodreads

–Her current blog is http://www.TheVelvetLair.com

Lynda Bailey: Give Versus Take (Contest)

I want to give a super huge THANK YOU to the fabulously talented and amazingly generous Delilah Devlin for hosting me today. To celebrate, I’m giving a lucky commenter his/her choice of any one of my titles + a $5 gift card.

I must confess to being a rabid Delilah Devlin fan since reading Fournicopia in July of 2012. Fournicopia was the first *official* BDSM romance I ever read, and I got seriously hooked on Ms. Devlin’s stories as well as reading – and writing – in the sub-genre. In fact, I just released Grace, the third novella in my Heartache and Hopeful series. These novellas, as well as my full-length novel Shattered Trust, incorporate elements of the BDSM lifestyle.

With the holidays upon us, I’m reminded of the old lesson that it’s better to give than to receive. But what about giving instead of taking? One of the misconceptions swirling around the kink lifestyle – and one that I myself, as a vanilla, was guilty of holding – is the assumption that a D/s relationship is just about the power; about someone taking control away from somebody else. It’s not. There’s a line from the Rihanna song, Stay, which I think lends itself perfectly to the dynamics of a D/s bond: It’s not just something you take, it’s given.

Nothing says it better than that. A submissive gives his/her control to the Dominant – the Dominant doesn’t take it. To be brutally blunt, when a person’s control or power is ripped from them, it’s assault, or worse rape.

That line from Stay became the crux of a pivotal love scene between Grace and Seth. Seth has the choice of submitting to Grace; she doesn’t force him. For one, she can’t because he’s much bigger and stronger. But if even if that wasn’t the case, there’s no satisfaction for a Dominant or Top if he/she has to coerce a submissive or bottom. It’s my understanding that part of the pleasure for the Dominant/Top comes from knowing the submissive/bottom trusts them. Trusts them enough to relinquish their control. And that trust must never be violated.

Are you a reader/writer of BDSM romances? If so, what are your thoughts concerning the nature of a D/s connection? Also, share your favorite BDSM authors – I’ve shared one of mine! And remember, leave a comment for the chance to win one of my titles and a $5 GC…

Thanks again to Delilah for letting me hang out today!

On the Corner of Heartache and Hopeful…

Revenge is a dish best served cold—and according to Grace Harrington, while wearing three inch stilettos and wielding a flogger. No longer the bullied, nerdy kid she was in high school, Grace is now a take-charge corporate lawyer in Omaha, Nebraska. She’s also a take-charge Top in the bedroom. The last thing she wants to do is go back to the small town of Tatum, but to save a treasured landmark from destruction while exacting retribution on the guy who ground her heart to dust? Hell yes!

Seth Reisner never wanted to leave Tatum. He thought being a country lawyer slash gentleman farmer would be the perfect life. But his agricultural kingpin uncle had other ideas. And when dear uncle foots the bill for law school plus signs your paycheck, you suck it up, alter your plans and move to Dallas, Texas. Now Seth divides his time between litigating on behalf of his uncle’s company and trying to find his “Mrs. Right.” When the opportunity to return to Tatum comes up, he’s grateful for the chance to go home.

Grace and Seth end up on opposite sides both in and out of the courtroom. Grace is determined to get her vengeance while Seth only wants to make up for his unintended past transgressions. When the verdict is read, who will win—and at what cost?

 

GRACE Excerpt:

Grace took hold of his wrists and molded his palms to her breasts. The feel of his calluses tightened her nipples into stiff buds. How does a high-end lawyer get calluses? “Did you like being tied up?”

His body tensed. “Why are you asking?”

She rose up slightly then settled back onto his thickening cock. “Don’t beg the question, counselor. Answer it. Did you like it?”

He frowned and averted his gaze. She lifted off him then kept herself suspended over him with his tip just inside her cunt. He growled and thrust his hips up. She hoisted herself higher to keep him from embedding himself inside her. His fingers flexed around her breasts. He thrust harder, but she stayed out of reach.

“Answer me,” she cooed. “Did you like it?”

His face crumpled with palpable aggravation as the tendons in his neck protruded. “Yes,” he finally gritted out.

“And you’re not happy about liking it, are you?” She kept a nonthreatening tone.

“Not particularly.”

She rewarded his truthfulness by lowering slowly onto his cock. “Don’t you like giving up control?”

“Does anyone?”

“If done right, it can be very freeing. Can you honestly tell me that you didn’t come like a fire hose before?” She circled her hips which elicited a gurgled groan from him.

“No.”

“Then let go. Trust me, baby. I’ll keep you safe.”

She freed his hands. He kept them on her breasts for a long count of five, then slowly raised them over his head…

 

About Lynda:

I’ve always loved stories, especially romances. For me the only thing better than reading a romance is writing one. That and drinking red wine while eating dark chocolate.

My romances are full of passion, with heat levels that range from hot to sizzling! I’m proud to have been a 2010 finalist in the prestigious Golden Heart®. Please join me for laughter and love, and where the good guys always win in the end.

I live in Reno with my husband of thirty+ years and our two pampered pooches.

Stalker Links…

Website: https://www.lyndabailey.net

Blog: http://www.lyndabailey.net/category/blog/

Facebook Author Page: https://www.facebook.com/LyndaBaileyRomanceAuthor

Twitter: https://twitter.com/authorlyndab

Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/baileylynda/

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6472849.Lynda_Bailey

Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/Lynda-Bailey/e/B007UQHW9E/

Lindsay McKenna: Wolf Haven

I’ve always loved wolves.  When Dr. Pinkola-Estes wrote “Women Who Run With The Wolves,” it was a landmark book about feminine mystique.  She is a Jungian analyst.  Carl Jung, Swiss Psychiatrist, saw symbolism in everything.  And in the book, she too saw the deep symbolism of the wolf with women.  After all?  They both start with a “W.”  Right?  Right.  And you can add the world “wild” to the mix, too.  Wild Women. Wild Wolves.  They are synonymous with one another.

There is a deep intuitiveness and natural wildness in all women, and maybe that’s why we vibe so strongly with wolves and wolf packs.  Wolves, by nature are not loners, nor are humans, really.  We’re social animals, also.  And social animals need group, clan, tribe, team, family or group of friends to be happy and feel fulfilled.

I’ve had the good fortune to photograph Timber Wolves in Canada.  The photo I’ve got with this blog is one of them.  It was an alpha pair, male (gray, right) and female (white, left).

Everyone knows wolves are pack animals and they work together as a team toward one objective.  I chose the wolf symbol for my latest release WOLF HAVEN precisely because of this symbolism and reality.  Having wolf energy means that one’s will to survive is always close to their skin and nature.   Further, it is the alpha male and female who procreate while the others do not.  They become babysitters, instead.

One little known fact about wolves is that most people think all wolves have yellow eyes.   In truth, they are born with BLUE eyes.  And as they begin to mature, the eyes will change to yellow.  But, even among wolves, there are the rare ones that will keep those beautiful blue eyes for the rest of their life.

Gracie, the alpha white female wolf in my book, has blue eyes and is instrumental in helping the heroine heal from her wounds and trauma.  But she also brings out the heroine’s will to not only survive. But thrive.  So typical of wolves, they are one of the toughest, most adaptable of all creatures.  Wolf symbolism, then, is a wonderful foundation to pen a story.

 

Wolf Haven, HQN, by Lindsay McKenna, Wyoming Series, 12.1.2014

Ebook/paperback

Audio book available at audible.com

Visit her website: www.lindsaymckenna.com

Can you keep a secret? (And I have a Question!)

Are you ready for Christmas or Yule or whatever your faith calls the gift-giving season? Thanks to my dd’s diligence, all the children are taken care of. Now, I’m picking up items here and there for the adults. But I also like adding hand-made things to the mix. So no telling what I’m considering!

This year, I’ve polished up old skills (crochet), learned some new ones (jewelry-making techniques), so I’m having a hard time narrowing down the projects. I know I want to make bracelets and pendants. I’ve been searching for an amulet bag crochet pattern so that I can fill the bag with small tokens (stones, a carved animal totem, etc.)—nothing too weighty. And I want it to be wearable and attractive, so I may have to find some easy embroidery patterns. Maybe I’ll crochet a sari silk bracelet. Make a scarf or two (with embellishments, because scarves themselves have no bling, right?). I have to make up my mind now, because I’ll be making these things in my spare time.

Pinterest has become my personal mecca for gift ideas. I can remember stocking up on craft books and magazines, but now, I have boards on Pinterest filled with ideas.  Now the problem is choosing from among them.

I’ve been thinking about the new things I want to learn next year and eyeing an inexpensive bead loom on Amazon… I’m like a little kid. Too easily distracted by the “pretties.” I better put it in the “Save for Later” basket and close out that screen before I become too tempted!

Are you making any of your gifts this year? Is there something you wish you had time to work on for a friend or loved one?

“The weather outside is frightful…” (more Mind-Mapping, actually)

Okay, it’s only dreary, not snowy, so I shouldn’t complain. And now we all have “Let it Snow” playing in our brains. I can stop now, right?

December is always a strange month for me. There’s the rush to Christmas. Thanks to my dd, presents are mostly bought and hidden away. I still have a few things to get or make. And it’s my planning month. I review 2014 and think about what I want to accomplish in 2015, and I start making plans.

This year, I decided to do some “mind-mapping.” I talked about it on Saturday, but here’s my first chart:

Since I do have some artistic goals I want to meet, I decided my map had to have some color—just for inspiration. Next, I’ll drill down in a couple of spots—Writing, Art—just because there’s so much I want to do, and I have to figure out how to spread it over the year, so I’m not overloading myself. That was the problem I ran into this year.

I mentioned that I’ll be teaching another little workshop, this one for free, this month. The dates have changed due to my sister’s travel plans. We’ll be conducting the “Write 50 Books a Year” workshop from December 6-11. If you’re interested, be sure to join the loop now! And no, we aren’t really going to teach you how to write 50 books a year. That’s a hook. But we can help you do some pre-planning that will help you make the best use of your time and we’ll talk about ways to be more productive when you do sit down to write.

If any of you have been working on your own mind maps or vision boards, please send me jpegs so I can post them to my Pinterest board!

It’s Monday, and the 1st day of December. Do you have a plan? Get ready, go!

 

Taige Crenshaw: World Builder

One of the things I love most about reading and writing is the world the story is set it. It doesn’t matter if it is contemporary, historical, paranormal, sci-fi, mystery or any other genre build a world that will make me want more. LOL.

This is what makes some books automatic buys. Yes I love the characters but without the world they inhabit they are just a shell of what they can see. Books with a captivating world will make me want to read more. It’s all about the atmosphere that you set. Let me visualize that I am there in that world. Make me imagine that I am actually walking down the street with your characters.

When I create my own worlds in the books that I write I strive for a feeling. The feelings that will make you want to live in the world I created. There are so many intricacies to building a world. You have to engage all the senses. The sounds you hear, scents that make the place familiar, sights that you see, the feel of the place, and the taste of its local cuisine. Once these are engaged it brings richness to the world.

When I build series, I use many factors to create it. I take many parts of history, folklore and other interesting tidbits to create the world of a story. In writing the books, I sink into the myths that I was creating.  It’s fun to bring in various things I find fascinating into my writing. When I build, I reveal brick by brick and layer by layer. There are so many beings and things in that world to explore. As I write each book, I have a wonderful time laying down the layers of the world and going on each adventure.  The mythology of the world grows with each book.

Whenever I write a new book in any of my series ranging from contemporary to paranormal I’m excited to see where I go next.  I get to push boundaries of belief and bring the reader into the journey of the story. Each journey will be a thrill ride as we get to know more of the world I’ve created.  I’m having a great time being a World Builder.

****

Bio:

Taige Crenshaw is a multi-published author with books available at Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Liquid Silver Books, Loose Id, and Totally Bound. Taige has been enthralled with the written word from time she picked up her first book. It wasn’t long before she started to make up her own tales of romance. With novels set in today, in alternate dimensions, or in the future she writes with adventure, fun sassy heroine’s, and sexy hero’s. Always hard at work creating new and exciting places Taige can be found curled up with a hot novel with exciting characters when she is not creating her own. Join her in the fun, frolic, interesting people and far reaches of the world in her novels. You can find out more about Taige at:

Website: http://www.taigecrenshaw.com/

Blog – http://www.taigecrenshaw.com/blog

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Taige-Crenshaw/110652119026620

Twitter: @TaigeCrenshaw

Chat Group ~ Crenshaw Café – http://groups.yahoo.com/group/crenshawcafe

To sign up for Taige’s Newsletter ~

http://www.taigecrenshaw.com/newsletterandgroups.shtml

To email Taige: http://taigecrenshaw.com/blog/contact

****

Firestorm Encounters (Phoenix Intelligence Agency, Book #5) – What do you do when you find a man who sets your senses aflame but being with him could cause repercussions?

Buy Here –

https://www.totallybound.com/author/taige-crenshaw#books

In this world when there are things that cannot be contained by humanities law.

When beings outside the scope of what humans can imagine decide to commit crimes, that are not only against the supernatural order but could effect the very humanity itself, who handles them? There is one place that stands between the human race and things that not only go bump in the night but make you even when you are awake be living in a nightmare.

For the agents of the secret agency sanctioned by the supernatural government it is a thin line between them and chaos. There are only a select few of the human race, which are in the ‘need to know’ category—not even the President of the United States is on that list. A PIA agent is equipped to handle whatever is needed of them. As they fight to keep the world from harm they find common alliances and enemies—new and old—who could even be a friend or family. Finding who to trust is a complicated thing. It can mean death or life.

For the agents fighting to keep the things we rather not know about at bay they will find themselves seduced by the most powerful of weapons—desire. Even as they work to keep our existence going these agents may find what comes beyond the initial uncontrollable passion. With their very breath, each beat of their heart and within their soul they will be reborn by love. Come inside and be embraced by the seductive power of the Phoenix Intelligence Agency.

A Mind Map for 2015

Yes, I’m already looking past December to the New Year. I have the whole month of December to review my 2014 plan and figure out what the heck happened. There were projects I was forced to drop for personal reasons—illness being the main reason, lack of scheduled downtime the other. I don’t want a repeat of 2014. I want 2015 to be completely positive, maybe even a change of direction.

December 7-13, I’ll be running a planning workshop entitled “How to Write 50 Books a Year” through Roses Colored Glasses (ignore the dates listed on the page. Sis hasn’t updated and she’s on vacation at the moment. Use the link anyway to join the yahoo group!), and I want to be ready to work on my own plan while I lead other writers through the process. (BTW, the workshop is completely free, so if you’d like to plan your year along with a group of like-minded writers, please join us!)

Anyway, I am doing some pre-planning brainstorming. Not so much targeted toward specific projects (although that will be the next step), but a more generalized view of the year. I’ve been collecting Mind-Mapping and Vision Board tools on Pinterest and think I’d like to create a visual to list my goals/priorities for 2015. Something that might look like this (I found this on Pinterest, which led me to a website called Jenny’s Sketchbook where she talks about building this mind-map)…

Maybe on mine, I’ll add things like:

Revamp my writing process

Plot
Write
Edit
RECOVER

See that last step? I think that’s what’s missing from my process. Oh, and the plotting part, because I’m such a pantser, but I think the lack of plotting really took a bite out of the time I scheduled to actually write the books. So it needs to be there, and I need to get serious about doing it!

I’ll add some personal goals like “family time” activities or trips and adding exercise to my plan. I won’t plan on adding the “D” word (diet) to the map because I’ve had diet on my New Years Resolution list for years and it’s the first thing I always fail. So the D word does not make it to the map!

What else should I add? Some financial goal? Some organizational goal? Something targeted to my Etsy store, The Emerald Casket? I would like an offshoot circle for possible writing projects, maybe a brainstormed series list. Any suggestions for what I should jot down as possibilities? Any old favorites or new ideas?

Also, if you’d like to do something like this for yourself, whether you’re a writer prepping for “Write 50 Books a Year” planning or just a goal-minded person who loves the bright shiny possibilities of starting over in the New Year, be sure to share your map. Send me a pic, or a link to your map on Pinterest. If enough folks share, I’ll devote blog space or a Pinterest board to your efforts.

Sam Cheever: Are you Headed for a Lump of Coal This Christmas?

I’m definitely getting coal in my stocking this year. Yeah, it’s true. I try so hard to be good. I really do! But I have a demon sitting on one shoulder and she’s so much more fun than the angel on my other shoulder. What’s that? You don’t believe me? (Apparently you’ve never read one of my books!)

For you doubters, here’s a laundry list of my sins:

I torture my characters. Yeah, I really do. It’s part of my job. And to make things even worse, I enjoy it! LOL
I write dirty books. Yup, my characters are nice people but they’re always doing dirty (yummy) things. I don’t know how that happens. I really don’t.
When I’m in thrall to one of my stories, I sometimes go weeks without cleaning my house. I usually give in about the time fist-sized fur tumbleweeds skim across my floors when I walk through. (That doesn’t take as long as you might think, since I have 13 dogs!)
I corrupt others. I not only write dirty books, I entice others to read them. (cue evil grin and waggling eyebrows). In fact, I work really hard at enticing others into debauchery with me. You should try it, it’s fun and burns calories!
I’m totally, completely unrepentant. I’ll do it all over again next year. In fact I might double down on it. Because it’s how I roll. #:0)

Yeah, there’s a lump of coal in my future. Probably lots of them. But I look at it this way, diamonds come from carbon (as does coal). My lump isn’t really coal at all. It’s just a 10 karat diamond in its nascent form. Now that’s what I’m talkin’ about!

Merry Christmas everybody!

He just wants her to take life a little more seriously. She’s decided he could have a point. Especially now that somebody wants her dead.

Dolfe Honeybun broke up with Blaise Runa because her party girl ways were driving him to distraction. Unfortunately, out of sight does NOT mean out of mind. And when his favorite party girl sees something she shouldn’t and finds herself being chased by a cold blooded killer… reason shuts down and Dolfe’s heart takes over. If only he can get to her in time!

Book page

* * *

I like big butts and I cannot lie…

Dolfe’s head jerked off the pillow, groggy from an unusually deep sleep. His heart pounded as he reached over and shut off the phone. Cursing Blaise. The ringtone had been her idea. She’d told him, grinning, that it would remind him of her every time it rang. Dolfe silently berated himself for not changing it to something mature and soothing.

She’d been right. The tone did remind him of her…of the lush firmness of her perfect backside…the velvet feel of her skin…the sensual tang of her delicious scent.

God knew he didn’t need any more reminders of Blaise. Her essence was infused in every fabric in his home. Her presence saturated every cell of his existence. A battered paperback behind the sofa cushions…a bottle of siren red nail polish shoved to the back of his medicine cabinet.

She was everywhere.

Dolfe had thought breaking up with her would be enough to exorcise her from his life.

What an idiot he’d been.

He opened his eyes and squinted at the clock. Three flippin’ AM. He groaned, flopping back to the pillow and closed his eyes, determined to ignore whoever the asswipe was who thought it was a good idea to call him in the middle of the night.

For a brief, enticing moment he thought he might be able to do it. Go back to sleep. His muscles softened…his thoughts clouded… He took a deep breath, expelling it softly…

I like big butts and I cannot lie…

Dolfe growled his frustration and grabbed the cell, stabbing at the button to answer it. “This better be fucking good.”

Silence met his growled, less than friendly greeting. No. That wasn’t completely right. If he listened carefully he could hear breathing, soft and staccato. “Who’s there?”

A tiny squeak. Panic swirled through Dolfe. “Blaise? Is that you? I’m sorry, honey. You woke me up. What’s wrong?” He didn’t know how he knew it was her. He just did, in that instinctive, age-old way of lovers who’d been, even for a short time, totally in tune with each other.

“He killed her.”

The simple statement, thick with tears, ripped through whatever grogginess Dolfe might still be feeling and tore him from the bed. He was reaching for his jeans even as he spoke again. “Who killed who, honey. Tell me you’re all right. Let’s start with that. I need to know right now that you’re okay.”

She pulled air into her lungs in a shaky breath. “I’m okay. But…” Another squeak, “He saw me, Dolfe. He’s coming after me.”

Dolfe scrubbed a hand over his face. “Shit. Okay, honey, listen to me. Get someplace public. A busy restaurant or something. Sit down at a table facing the door and wait for me. Watch for me. I can be there in minutes. Just tell me where you are.”

A soft sob, the sound of the phone dropping, crashing against something.

Dolfe’s guts heaved into his throat. “Blaise!”

Nothing.

Book page

 

Author Bio:

USA Today Bestselling Author Sam Cheever writes romantic paranormal/fantasy and mystery/suspense, creating stories that celebrate the joy of love in all its forms. Known for writing great characters, snappy dialogue, and unique and exhilarating stories, Sam is the award-winning author of 50+ books and has been writing for over a decade under several noms de plume.

If you haven’t already connected, Sam would love it if you Liked/Followed her wherever you enjoy hanging out online. Here are her online haunts:

Newsletter: http://www.samcheever.com/newsletter.html

Website: www.SamCheever.com

Amazon Author Page:

http://www.amazon.com/author/samcheever  

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/SamCheeverAuthor

Twitter: https://twitter.com/samcheever

Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/samcheever1/