Delilah Devlin's Blog, page 440

Kimber Vale: Music or Books? (Contest)

Music or Books? 

Thank God we don’t have to choose, right? My dad used to love to ask us kids if we had to pick one—being blind or being deaf—which would we choose? Of course, with braille and audiobooks, blind people can enjoy books, but I know what he was really asking—would you rather go the rest of your life without music, or without books?  As an avid reader and an adorer of music, he thought this was the dilemma of the century.

This may sound like sacrilege, but if I was on a deserted island and could have limitless books or limitless music, I’d go with music.

Music can take me out of time and place, and tell me a story. It pulls moods from me as well as any book, with the added bonus of making me shake my ass (it needs to be shaken more, I tell ya). Like an author you love—because, let’s face it, musicians are writers and then some—you can get numerous stories from your favorite bands, especially if they’ve been around for a while. And you can hear them countless times. Yes, you may re-read a favorite book, but, at least for me, it’s not something I can do over and over and over again. I think my all-time favorites I’ve read three times at most. My favorite songs I can listen to three or four times a day when they are really new and exciting, and then I revisit them periodically after the honeymoon has faded to “relive” the experience.

Again, I am so glad I’m not on that island. We can have both, and sometimes we can even have both together. My love of music (and hot musicians) inspired me to write my newest release “Forever is Now.” I especially love metal and heavy rock, and went to a number of concerts and called them “research” (if anyone from the IRS is reading this, don’t worry, I’m not deducting the ticket cost). I hit Three Days Grace the week before Adam Gontier left the band. We saw Avenged Sevenfold while I was writing “Forever” (and again this August—hey, they’re my absolute favorite). We caught Foo Fighters with Social Distortion, Stone Sour with In this Moment, and Soundgarden, sans opening act, as well this past year. All in the name of research!

Actually, that’s a load of crap. I was merely feeding my addiction. They were nothing but fun—and so was writing this book.

If you love sexy musicians and broiling-hot manlove, or maybe you enjoy a good friends-to-lovers-to-enemies-and-back-to-lovers theme, you should totally check out “Forever is Now.”

And if you like it, have no fear, the next installment is on the way. I just bought my Pearl Jam tickets to make sure I’m doing things right.

If you love someone, set him free. If he steals something of yours, hunt him down and make him sorry.

Alex Bremen is over Chance Ralan. Ever since his high school boyfriend ditched him nine years ago, Alex has barely thought of Chance at all. Sure, Alex attended a concert or two when his ex’s band, Armageddon Showdown, was in the area, but that was more curiosity than anything else. Who wouldn’t want to see firsthand how his once clean-cut boyfriend transformed into a pierced and tattooed heavy metal god?

But when Chance has the nerve to record a love song Alex wrote for him years ago, Alex crosses the country to confront him. Revenge becomes a dish best served sizzling hot. The two men lock horns, but find the chemistry between them has only intensified with time, and occasionally love needs to do some growing up before it can be done right.

“I bet you never got over that first boyfriend, huh?” Delia must have been a scab-picker as a kid. She just did not quit.

“Him? I gave up on him a long time ago.”

“Well, he sounds like a real asshole, letting you go.” Delia shrugged.

“Yeah, his loss, right?”

Chance picked up his beer glass and chugged the remainder before he slammed it down on the table. He nudged the startled groupie, who scooted out of the booth with him right behind her. Like a pent-up and poked lion, he stalked to the bar. Judging by the two fingers Chance held up, he ordered a double of something clear. He threw back the shooter and stomped off toward the men’s room.

“What’s his deal?” Delia asked no one in particular.

Alex’s glass was low, and he used the opportunity to excuse himself. Jools grabbed his computer and slid it over to pick up where he left off without a skipped beat. Miles racked pool balls across the room, while Jimmy laughed loudly and chalked his cue. Alex breathed a sigh of relief to see his assistant occupied.

He was so stupid for sticking his dick in that guy. He’d have to look for another position for him—one where they wouldn’t work closely together. Obviously, Miles hadn’t gotten past it.

When Alex entered the men’s room, he initially thought Chance wasn’t in there after all. A toilet flushed, and the door on the end stall flew open hard enough to crash against the tiled wall behind it. Chance squinted at him as they both stood before the row of sinks, the rocker washing his hands and Alex giving him a dull stare.

“What the fuck are you playing at, Alex? Why are you here?”

“What am I playing at? You’ve got to be kidding, right?”

“You come here just to screw with my head?” Chance stared accusingly into the mirror, moss-green eyes skewering Alex.

“Like you need any help with that, Chance. I think your head is fucked well and good, and it’s got nothing to do with me. Besides, you sent me a goddamn bat signal on the airwaves when you used my song!”

“So, you didn’t just show up ’cause you missed this, huh?” He grinned maliciously into the glass while he grabbed his crotch in a mocking gesture. In the harsh lighting, even with his dark makeup ringing his eyes from the concert, and the ebony spiral of a dragon’s body curling around his neck and disappearing into the ripped collar of his shirt, Alex could still see flashes of the boy he once knew. The row of stainless steel rings that marched up his left earlobe, and the skinny black leather pants, the anti-social hair and full sleeves of ink—even the cold and cynical glint in his eyes couldn’t completely mask the Chance Alex used to adore.

“How could you sing that song? I know I lost the competition. You needed to be a rock star more than you need me. I’m over it. But here you fuckin’ are, Chance—you made it to the big time without me, and without that song. The least you could do is show an ounce of fucking respect for what we had.”

“I do… I didn’t…” He tripped over his words, and Alex shook his head, about to walk out. Distance was the best thing to have between them. Why did he think confronting Chance would bring some sort of resolution, some kind of healing to the wound that never closed no matter how much time passed? He should have known being so near Chance would tear him apart all over again.

“Wait. Alex?” Chance exhaled a deep breath as if trying to decide if he really wanted to say whatever he was about to.

“I was drunk one night. I couldn’t get you … that song out of my head. I just thought if I sang it, I could sleep, ya know? Cliff heard me. Said we had to cut it.” Chance shook his head as if to negate his words. “He had the rest of the band pressure me.”

“So, once again, I lose to the band, huh? It’s classic Chance. You fucked me over for your career already! Years later, with an entire country between us, you do it again? I let you go, Chance. You should do the same.”

“Did you really?” Chance turned toward him, closing the distance between their bodies. Alex smelled sweat and leather, and Chance’s breath held the essence of liquor as he spoke. “You want to tell me you didn’t think about me at all this whole time? Is that why you never tried to find me? Never called?”

“Are you fucking serious? Is that what I was supposed to do?” Alex clenched his fists, torn between wanting to hit him, and dying to know if his lips, his tongue, tasted like vodka, or beer, or both.

“It woulda shown you cared.”

“I see the world still revolves around you. Nice to know some things never change.”

“Yeah, some things don’t. Your eyes are still that same amazing blue.” Chance leaned closer and the tip of his tongue flicked out to smooth his lips. “I still feel like I could just … dive into them and drown.”

Fuck. A shiver of excitement rumbled through Alex’s body. He had come here to yell at him, to make him realize what a self-centered prick he was. Hopefully shame him, at least a little. After that he was going to leave.

Instead, he leaned in, and his lips were on Chance’s. And, good lord, he tasted and smelled just the way Alex remembered underneath the burn of booze. Chance’s face was rougher against his chin and cheeks, not like the smooth-faced boy Alex used to steal kisses from. Damn, if the man wasn’t so much hotter. He licked the seam of Chance’s closed lips and the guy groaned beneath Alex’s onslaught while his mouth opened in response. Their tongues met, and Chance molded his warm body against Alex’s.

Christ, he feels almost too good.

Alex’s hand wrapped around the back of Chance’s neck. He loved the thatch of hair at Chance’s nape. Different color, but still reassuringly soft. Threading his fingers through the silky mass, he pulled Chance’s mouth closer, his tongue deeper into his own moist heat.

Alex smiled against Chance’s mouth as the rocker ground his hips upward into Alex’s throbbing groin. The guy’s cock was hot and hard, wrapped in buttery leather. It surged against Alex’s hard-on.

Not everything changed.

The squeak of the outer door being tugged open broke the love buzz, and Chance wrenched guiltily out of his arms.

Alex turned on the tap in a liquid-lightning move and started splashing water around as nonchalantly as he could manage. The sink was the right height to cover most of the bulge in his pants, and he prayed it would be enough.

When Dave wobbled in with a shit-faced grin and a “Heyahh!” Alex knew they were safe. Chance was safe, actually, because Alex had quit giving a donkey’s dick what anyone thought about his sexuality a long time ago.

He ran wet fingers through his dark-brown hair and spared Chance a last look. He wouldn’t even make eye contact. The guy was obviously freaked out of his mind.

Alex laughed out loud at the look of abject terror twisting Chance’s face, and gave Dave a nod as he walked out. His balls burned with disappointment, but his heart was lighter than it had been in a long time.

———

Find Forever is Now from Liquid Silver Books, Amazon, All Romance, and other major e-book retailers beginning 9/9/13.

And stop by my blog— www.kimbervale.wordpress.com —to help me name the puppy in book two of my Shooting Stars series. The winner will get a shout-out in my acknowledgments, an e-copy of book two (Double Takes) when it releases, and a $20 Amazon gift card.  You have until 10/6 to get your name suggestions in, so get to work on something totally rocking!  And thanks for playing!

-Kimber Vale

www.kimbervale.com

Cathryn Cade: BDSM on the Light Side (Contest)

Hello, all you delicious Delilah D fans. Love her writing, and love the chance to chat with her readers. Waving—thanks for the invite, Ms D!

I’ve been having a blast this summer and fall, writing a hot, hot, hot new series for Samhain. Club 3 debuted October 1st, which I love. October just seems like the month to get naughty, you know? With Halloween coming, my Bad Girl starts twitching her tail and wanting to get in T.R.O.U.B.L.E.

So what’s the worst kind of trouble a girl can get into? Well … does mouthing off to not one, not two, but three doms in her first night at a new club count? Yikes! Think that would do it. The only question will be how hard is that spanking gonna be?

I love reading BDSM and D/s. But for me, it’s not about the physical, it’s about the emotional. In real life I’m shy, and passed up a few guys in whom I was genuinely interested because I could not get my stupid tongue untangled long enough to chat with them.  God blessed me (and he was no doubt rolling his eyes by then) by plunking my handsome husband before me at a big dance club in Montana when I’d had just enough alcohol to loosen up and actually act out my extreme interest in this hunk. Through two handsome sons, several moves and life crises, we are still together. Love my alpha male!

Daisy Charles, the heroine of She’s All In is the girl I always wished I was, but wasn’t. She has the spunk to walk up to a big, handsome weightlifter that she knows is a dom, and ask him for a date.

He turns her down. Yeah, there’s a crusher. But Daisy, being a tough woman who’s gone through hell in her own way, jumps right back up and agrees to try things his way first. By accepting an invitation to his BDSM club.

Now, I’m going to slam on the brakes, and tell you WHY I wrote this series. I love BDSM, but  … many of the stories I read include elements that are not right for me. Isn’t that the way with erotic romance? When a story is intense, passionate, raw and delves into the darker side of the human psyche, there are bound to be scenes, or even just lines that make us uncomfortable.  Sometimes in a fun, squirm-in-our-seats way and sometimes in an I-can’t-handle-this way.

That’s how I am with the darker BDSM. I fully support those who love that. I don’t. What I do love about BDSM romance  is the emotional risk, the need to connect on a deep level, the trust that develops. The capacity for ecstasy when it works, and for stark emotional pain when that trust is broken, sometimes unwittingly.

So that’s what I write. Light BDSM. I tried the term ‘vanilla BDSM’, lol, but just confused the heck out of many readers. Yeah, I see you wrinkling your cute little nose at the computer. You too, huh?

If you’d love to try a romance with plenty of heat, a few chuckles and some heartbreak, leave a comment and let us know what you enjoy about reading D/s and BDSM. I’ll give away a copy of the ebook, SHE’S ALL IN here. PLEASE leave your email addy so I can find you!

For an excerpt, visit  Samhain Publishing. And stop by My Website for more chances to win. You might also win my Naughty Club 3 Halloween Basket!

Best,

Cathryn Cade

Goodreads, My Website, Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, Samhain Author Page,

And sign up for My Newsletter for a chance to win goodies!

Jennifer Kacey: Bondage Boot Camp Part 1 & Contest

Bondage Boot Camp Part 1 & Contest

When I decided to write my first BDSM novel, Together in Cyn , I thought I was so prepared to write it, because A) I’ve read the genre for years, B) I had what I thought was a great story, and C) I’ve watched porn.

Of course this, in my mind, meant I had all my bases covered and I was ready to write the story.

I wrote it, submitted it, it was accepted, I turned around and signed with the agency I’ve always wanted, and someone how or another that turned into a 10 book contract within 4 months. Thus the Members Only series was born. Haaaaaaa!! (Please picture sparkly lights coming down from pretty clouds here, because seriously it was that cool. **SMILE**)

Then my fabulous editor gave me my first round of edits. Holy shitballs, Batman!! I’m pretty sure a crayon box exploded on the MS. I organized it, made a spreadsheet of what I needed to do, did a major re-write on a few chapters, added more sex—‘cause I COULD, and then sent it back.

Between this round of edits and the second one – guess where I went?

You guessed it! Bondage Boot Camp.

Was it really called that? No, but that’s what it was. For me anyways. It was two and a half days of bondage, bondage, and more bondage. Chains, duct tape, and lots and lots of rope. Shibari bondage has a very special place in my heart. It’s wonderful and beautiful, and painful, and cleansing, and sexy, even if there’s no sex involved.

That brings me to the most important revelation of Boot Camp. Bondage does not equal sex. And bondage, at least the good bondage is better than porn even without the sex. It’s about a connection between a top and a bottom. Speaking to each other in complete silence. Their breathing coalescing in a symphony of not a single spoken word. Maybe a moan, or laughter. It’s so very different than what I had in my head. I am forever grateful for being exposed to this.

When I got the last round of edits for Together in Cyn my head was finally in the right place. In a space where bondage can coexist with the vanilla and blossom. Self-discovery is amazing and I hope each and every one of you has a chance to experience something that changes you, moves you, makes you look at the world from a different perspective to find something inside you never knew to look for.

Now you may notice that it says Part 1 in the title. As I write this, I am scheduled to go to another bondage convention in T-minus 4 days. Next month on Oct 20th, right here on DD’s blog, I’ll let you know how this one went. I can’t wait!!

CONTEST – Bad Girls of Romance Trading Cards plus Swag and Trading cards from yours truly. Get them before anyone else!! They are so hot you might need gloves to open the package!

Tell me if you’ve had any revelations like mine in regards to kink? What did you discover is VERY different from a pre-conceived notion you had?

 

Members Only, Book One

She knows it’s wrong. Cyn shouldn’t have feelings for fraternal twins Jared and Chris, her best friends. She shouldn’t want them to tie her up or strap her down, to take her one at a time—or together. The only way to control her taboo desires is to write them down and lock them away in her diary. Guys like Jared and Chris could never be interested in someone like her, or in the kind of sex she craves.

But Jared and Chris have read her diary, and sweet little Cyn is in for the shock of her life. The brothers not only own a members-only BDSM club, they want her. Need her. And now, with their unlimited funds and an entire establishment devoted to fulfilling her darkest pleasures, they’re going to claim Cyn for their own.

Inside Scoop: If you have a kink, this book probably has it too. If you like your ménage romances extra hot with a side of male-male romance, spanking, voyeurism and girl-on-girl action, come and get it.

A Romantica® BDSM erotic romance from Ellora’s Cave

Buy Links below and others on the TIC webpage along with an Excerpt and Video

Amazon | Ellora’s Cave | Barnes and Noble

Website – http://www.jenniferkacey.com/

Facebook – https://www.facebook.com/jennifer.kacey.7

Twitter – https://twitter.com/JenniferKacey

Goodreads – http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6941549.Jennifer_Kacey

Pinterest – http://pinterest.com/jenniferkacey/

Jennifer Kacey is a wife, mother, and business owner living with her family in Texas. She sings in the shower, plays piano in her dreams, and has to have a different color of nail polish every week. The best advice she’s ever been given? Find the real you and never settle for anything less.

M.A. duBarry: The Lure Of The Selkie

The Lure Of The Selkie

First, thanks to Delilah for having me on the blog today!  Glad to be here.

Second, I’m thrilled to talk about one of my favorite magical creatures.

My favorite stories are those made of myth and magic.  For me, a supernatural hero is the ultimate bad boy.  He usually struggles with the fact he’s trapped between the human and magical worlds and that can make for great conflict.  One such creature I’ve always been fond of is the Selkie. Below are some magical facts about the Selkie.

Selkies are magical, shapeshifting seal people born of myth from Celtic legend, especially Irish and Scottish legend.  But similar seal creatures exist in many cultures. They’re usually very good looking. And very sexy.  It’s been said male Selkies come ashore for the sole purpose of finding a mortal woman in need of a good romp.

If a Selkie comes ashore and sheds his/her skin, then he/she must remain in human form until the skin is found.  This also means they cannot return to the sea until their pelt is recovered.

According to legend, if a mortal woman wished to meet a male Selkie, she could do so by crying seven tears into the sea. Those tears would be answered by her Selkie who would then come ashore for an amorous encounter.

If a mortal male found a discarded female Selkie skin, and stole it, the Selkie woman would then remain land-bound and become his wife. In the latter, it is usually the children of the Selkie who eventually return the skin to their mother, who then leaves them for the call of the sea.  Selkie children often have webbed fingers or toes.

In my novella, IN THE SHADOW OF THE SELKIE, my Selkie hero is also part vampire.  His enemy comes from the Fin-folk—a darker, not-so-nice sea shifter from Celtic legend.  My heroine is part-human, part-Selkie.

I’d love to know what’s your favorite magical creature. And if you have a favorite myth or legend you like to read.

In the Shadow of the Selkie

ISBN: 1-59998-874-7

Genre: Paranormal Romance, Red Hots!

Length: Novella

Buy at: Samhain | Amazon | B&N | Kobo

In the dangerous world of the selkie underground, a selkie vampire king and a mortal woman join forces to fight the queen of darkness that would destroy them all.

Lady Theodosia Barrett is blackmailed by Dubheasa, Queen of the Dark Fin-Folk, and forced to stalk the Cu Maran crypts in search of a selkie king’s pelt. What she finds is the king himself—and he isn’t only a selkie, but also a vampire. Calling upon her skills as a vampire hunter, Theo stakes him. But she doesn’t complete the kill. A year later, King Roane comes back, demanding her hand in marriage.

Theo has no choice. To protect her family, she must accept.

Selkie vampire King Roane Cu Mara is determined to keep his people safe from the Dark Fin-Folk. To do so, he must first solve the puzzle as to why Theo, a soul born to protect the selkies, tried to kill him. Until he can figure out why she betrayed her own kind, Roane sets out to keep a close eye on her by making her his bride.

But even as Theo begins to warm Roane’s cold, vampyric heart, Queen Dubheasa plots to destroy selkie-kind in a twisted quest to make Roane her own. For she knows something that Roane doesn’t—Theo’s soul holds the key to keeping the selkie kingdom alive.

AUTHOR BIO:

M.A. duBarry is a native New Yorker who’s as zany as the city she grew up in. As a child her favorite toy was Emerald The Witch, a small doll with green eyes, green hair and purple skin.

Miss duBarry’s books and novellas have garnered numerous awards and nominations, including the Sapphire Award, P.E.A.R.L. Award & Word Weaving Award. Her books have also been featured on Midwest Book Review’s Book Watch TV. M.A.’s first novel, COME THE NIGHT (w/a Angelique Armae), made Fictionwise’s Best of the Best list, rounding out the top five best selling dark fantasy books of the year. Her most recent novel, SHADOWS OF THE SOUL (w/a Angelique Armae) made the Amazon Kindle and Books bestsellers lists.

When not working, Ms. duBarry enjoys traveling, learning about the ancient Celts, exploring history and learning new languages (she’s fluent in English and Italian and speaks some French). M.A. studied history and French literature at SkidmoreCollege.

Visit her website

Snippet Saturday: Farewell…

This is our last Snippet Saturday. I’ve enjoyed being a part of this Saturday tradition. Be sure to click on the links at the bottom of this blog to find the other snippeteers.

I’ve chosen a snippet from my most recent releaser, Crescent Moon—a book I loved writing, and maybe you can see why! Enjoy!

If you post a comment today, you’ll be entered to win

a free download of any of my downloadable backlist books!

From ancient Egypt to present-day New Orleans, a woman of exceptional strength is called to protect against an unspeakable evil…and to experience an unforgettable seduction.

Khepri still isn’t used to being The God’s Wife. The daughter of a common farmer, she’s more comfortable being friends with servants than employing a whole team of them. Being the wife of Amun affords her luxuries she only dreamed of, but her dreams are not always a haven…they are also filled with demons. Lately she’s had doubts about the role she’s been thrust into. She’s had yearnings for another sort of life, one where she’s loved intimately, rather than only adored from afar.

When a powerful man lures her away from her temple, she’s thrilled at the chance for an adventure. Her adventure quickly becomes a nightmare when the handsome vizier mummifies her alive. Pure of heart and body, she’s the warrior he foresees will battle a demonic pharaoh if ever he awakens. Khepri’s sure he’s insane, until she awakens in a distant future. Alone and needing a guide in this strange and garish new world, she turns to the troubled man who set her free…

When New Orleans police detective Justin Henry Boucher is called to the Garden Museum to investigate stolen Egyptian artifacts, it’s not exactly the adrenaline rush he used to get working a homicide. But with a reprimand on his record and a sorrow he can’t shake, he will take what he can get – as long as he can keep his badge. What he doesn’t count on is having to keep his cool when he finds one of the priceless artifacts—a golden-skinned goddess wrapped in fabric like a mummy, left to die and needing his help. She’s a mystery he’s determined to unravel. She might also be the cure for his lonely heart.

After she’d soaked in a warm bath, Khepri couldn’t fight the weight of her fatigue. As she’d feared, the moment her eyes closed, her world tilted again.

With no time to cry out, no time to worry whether she’d ever see Justin again, Khepri felt as though she was being pulled by her feet, tumbling through an undulating tunnel, until she stopped so suddenly her head jerked back. Once her mind stopped whirling, she glanced around to find out where she’d landed this time.

Torchlight shimmered against gilt-painted walls. The dais beneath her was encrusted with a jeweled mosaic of a radiant sun resting in the bottom of a shallow barge as it floated across the sky. Her stomach lurched. Her heart thudded dully against her chest. She knew this place.

A hand reached down to pat her hair, and she noted quickly that she was seated on the floor, her legs folded and to the side. She wore no clothing beyond a slave’s crudely woven, white kilt, her breasts bared. Her hand was curled around the back of a man’s calf, and she knew that if she looked upward, whose face she’d see.

But she wasn’t ready to confront him. Not with the commotion surrounding them. Her companion sat on a throne-like chair, in a row of such chairs. All gleaming with more gilt paint and tiny, intricate inlaid mosaics, jewels sparkling. Before them stretched a long hall filled with frightening, half-human creatures lined up to watch a procession of humans as they were dragged in chains up the carpeted steps to where Anubis stood beside the Scale of Truth, the plates of his scale glinting gold where not covered in fresh blood.

Khepri’s stomach lurched. Her fingers tightened on her master’s calf. She didn’t want to be here. Didn’t want to watch.

The first of the humans, an elderly man, ambled forward, his left leg dragging beneath the weight of his chain. His deeply lined skin stretched across the starkly jutting bones of his face. Fear shone in his dark eyes, but he remained silent, following obediently as his captor dropped his chain and knelt before Anubis. “Sire, I bring another for judgment.”

Anubis stepped forward, giving a low growling yip. He was tall and muscular, his chest gleaming with sweat. A jackal’s alert eyes stared down at the old man. “What have you to say in defense of your life?”

The man shook his head. “I am not pure. I have sinned, but I have tried to live a good life. I have never killed, never stolen.” His voice wavered with age and with terror, but he lifted his face rather than hide it. “I regret deeply that I have not lived an exemplary life, done no great deeds of kindness. But I worked to feed my family. I beg for mercy.”

Khepri moaned. Mercy was never given; it was earned. She pressed her face against the muscled calf, but couldn’t look away from the half-beast who held the man’s fate in his clawed hands.

Anubis’s tall ears pricked toward the sound she made a moment before his snout swung her way, his eyes seeming to glint with laughter at her squeamishness. When he swung back, he flattened his clawed hand against the elderly man’s chest.

The man cried out; his knees wobbled.

Light gleamed around the edges of Anubis’s claws and the whole of it sank inside the man’s chest. A moment later, the god drew out a beating heart, gushing blood. He placed it on the scale, watching as the plate slowly sank beneath its weight, and then he dropped a feather onto the clean plate.

The scale hummed, making a musical sound as it raised on one side then the other, until at last one plate sank low.

Her breath expelled slowly as she wilted with relief.

A chair away, Thoth rose, his beak-like nose twitching. He waved his arm in a dramatic fashion for he loved fanfare. “The Feather of Truth speaks of your sincerity. Your heart is pure. Treat him kindly,” he said to the creature who had brought him into the hall. To the man, he gave a smile. “Isis shall bathe you and provide you clean clothing. Then you shall be led to the Fields of Peace where you shall reside until you are called again someday.”

The man glanced toward the tray, but it had disappeared. He touched his chest, but the wound had closed. Smiling his thanks, he paused as his captor struck his irons and freed him, and then led him away from the hall.

A woman was brought next. Young, with lustrous dark hair and sloe eyes. She didn’t wait for Anubis to ask for her plea. She threw back her head, pasted on a serene smile, and said, “Sire, I am pure. I’ve never killed, never stolen.”

Her glance fell away for a moment, and Khepri’s chest squeezed. No, no, no. Do not lie here!

“I have given to the poor, provided gold to charities. I deserve a place in Horus’s Fields of Peace.”

Anubis laughed softly. A sound that lifted the fine hairs on the back Khepri’s neck. The gods didn’t like prideful humans. Did the woman think her beauty would sway them?

Anubis lifted his clawed hand and gently clasped the woman’s left breast.

Her breath hitched, her eyelids lowered then lifted, invitation written clearly in her parted lips.

Without warning, Anubis thrust his fist inside her chest, baring his teeth as she screamed. He flung her heart onto the scale. “How do you think you will fare?”

The woman shook her head, her hands clutching her chest, trying to stem the flow of blood gushing from the wound. “Mercy… Please, show me mercy.”

He dropped the feather. The scales sang, the plates lowering then lifting until the heart sank.

The woman cried out and reached out, trying to knock her heart from the tray. “Mercy, sire!”

Her tone wasn’t that of a remorseful supplicant—not that remorse would have changed the verdict. Rage hoarsened her voice and stripped away her beauty.

Heavy footsteps plodded from a side door.

Khepri whimpered, as much out of pity for the disagreeable woman’s fate as out of fear of the monster that approached.

Every gruesome creature known to Nile dwellers was encompassed in one horrid body—her upper torso was that of a lion and from her midriff back, a hippopotamus; her head was that of a crocodile. She approached in full animal form, her gate uneven on long graceful forelegs and squatty, thick hind legs, her mouth gaping to show every long, serrated tooth.

The woman rushed to the end of her chain, trying to head back to the entrance of the hall, but the chain caught her, causing her to pitch forward on her knees. She rolled to her back, her gaze never leaving Ammit, as the Devourer of Hearts sniffed at the tray, and then tipped it into her mouth, swallowing the still-beating heart whole. With a quick flip of her body, she turned and sauntered slowly toward the woman, stepping onto the woman’s legs, Ammit’s large body so heavy the snap of fracturing bones was audible throughout the silent hall.

The woman’s screams never relented. But Khepri had enough. She knew Ammit would shred her with her teeth and then pick up her mutilated but still sensate body to take away to the Lake of Fire, where she would be pitched to suffer damnation for an eternity. Khepri buried her face against her protector’s thigh, smearing scalding tears against his warm skin.

“There, there,” came his kindly whisper. “Do not let her see your fear, my dear…”

 

Khepri’s eyes slammed open, and she bolted upright. Her gaze sought out shapes in the darkness, but not until a lamp was lit did she breathe easier. She was back in Justin’s bed.

“That must o’ been some nightmare,” came his soothing murmur.

The moment his hand rubbed up her arm, she turned toward him, climbing over his body, her thighs parting over her hips as she lowered her torso to rest heavily against him.

She couldn’t get close enough, warm enough. She shivered head to foot.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” he whispered, his large hands smoothing over her back.

Her heart beats still stuttered and skittered. She shook her head, remembering the Hall of Two Truths and the awful judgments. Although she could only call to mind the one incident, she’d had the feeling, inside the dream, that she had been there many times before.

She’d been seated on the ground at the feet of her husband, his slave, and yet, he’d treated her tenderly…perhaps, for the benefit of anyone who watched? And yet, she’d sensed his concern, his affection in the fingers that had petted her hair, in the firm admonition there at the end, as he’d warned her about Ammit. Do not let her see your fear.

Why hadn’t she looked at his face?

The body beneath her stirred. Even as she shook, desire unfurled, heating her sex, opening her fingers to trail in the silky hair cloaking his chest.

“Wanna talk about it?” he asked, his voice a soft rumble.

She shook her head, liking the way this hair abraded her cheek. She turned her head to nuzzle her nose against a small, flat nipple, something he seemed to enjoy, because his cock pulsed against her.

“That’s okay,” he said, his tone deepening, nearly purring. “You’re awake. Thought my dick would petrify it’s been stiff so long.”

She snickered, her tension easing at his crude words. The only time he ever spoke crudely to her was when he was aroused. She appreciated his directness, because she felt the same way, unable to clothe her words in anything other than raw need. “Please. Come inside me,” she whispered, and then teased his nipple with the edges of her teeth.

He rolled them both, coming over her, his weight sinking her into his soft mattress. There was comfort in having his greater weight blanketing her, narrowing her perceptions to focus on him—his weight, his hot breath, the crush of his chest against her breasts, the slide of his thick phallus as he repositioned himself between her legs.

Already, she was damp and needful of penetration, for when he stroked deep, she imagined they were one person, one pleasure binding them together.

“I’d tell you not to be afraid, that I’m right here to keep any bad away from you, but I won’t lie, Khepri. I don’t know what’s comin’.”

Her eyes filled. “Neither do I. I can’t see the future, and I only know pieces of the past.” She trailed a finger along the edge of his hard jaw. “Still, I’m glad Amun gave you to me.”

When he rose on his arms, she feared he’d move down her body to prepare her, but what she wanted was more immediate. “No, Justin. Please. Now. Come inside.”

His mouth curved. “Guess it’d be impolite to leave a lady waitin’.” Locking with her gaze, he flexed his hips, found her center in a single nudge, and pushed slowly into her. Once he was all the way inside, he paused. “That what you wanted?”

She recognized the teasing quality of his tone and shook her head. Instead of describing in words what she wanted, she squeezed around him, concentrating hard to begin at the mouth of her vagina, then tensing other muscles as she gave him a caress that caused his breath to expel slowly and his eyelids to dip.

“Dayum, cher.” He lowered himself onto her chest, and then thrust an arm beneath her, cradling her body close. His hands cupped her face, thumbs rubbing her lips.

She licked the callused pads, liking his salty flavor. “Give me what I need. After…” She licked a pad that pressed against her lower lip. “I’ll give you what you want.”

His growl made her smile, but he began moving, his hips moving in powerful swells as he drove into her again and again.

This was what she needed. Pleasure warming her frozen body. A fierce embrace from a very human man. “Justin, Juste.” Only his name. She couldn’t manage to say more. His thickness speared her, crowding into her in lush, wet surges, eased by her body’s own ratcheting excitement.

He leaned down to kiss her, his mouth nibbling until she opened, and then his tongue surged inside, taking her breath along with her thoughts.

Her fingers dug into the ladder of muscle framing his spine and she curved her hips, changing the angle to receive more of his length and to allow his coarse pubic hairs to rake her pleasure knot. Her breaths came in shallow pants, sweat coated her chest and belly. Friction burned inside her where his cock churned hotly.

He broke the kiss. “Not gonna last much longer.”

She nodded, running her fingers down to the firm curve of his buttocks, urging him closer, deeper, tilting higher, her abdomen trembling with exertion. “Yes.” Her cry was broken. Her head dug into the pillow. She stiffened beneath his body as he pounded harder, stroke after stroke, buffeting her, pushing her up the bed until she had to brace a hand against the wooden headboard.

He raised on his hands and gave her several deep, lunging thrusts before his face screwed up with pleasure. His expression, the last fierce thrust, sent her hurtling over the edge into a pleasure she realized she’d only had fleeting, dull glimpses of in the past.

* * * * *

Be sure to check out the snippets on these other authors’ blogs:

Lauren Dane

Caris Roane

Eliza Gayle

Lissa Matthews

McKenna Jeffries

Shiloh Walker

Taige Crenshaw

HelenKay Dimon

Em Petrova: Naughty Things Cowboys Do (Contest)

Naughty Things Cowboys Do

 Howdy! In celebration of my latest release UNBROKEN, a hot new contemporary western ménage a trois, I’d like to share the top five naughty things cowboys do.

*clears throat* Okay, let’s see if I can think coherently.

Tip their hats and say “how’s it goin’ ma’am?” –just like the Jewel song Do You, (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TOVzkz9cLwI) these rugged shoot ‘em ups do that thing with their thumbs against the brims of their hats that make a woman’s knees turn to jelly .
Glare –Something about a piercing glare from beneath a hat brim sends out a warning to everyone in their vicinity. Although we ladies flock to that kind of alpha male, right?
Fistfight – who doesn’t love to watch a couple pissed-off cowboys taking a swing at each other? As one friend put it to me when I told him I was writing a fight scene between cowboys, “Go for the one-punch, Em. We cowboys do it right the first time!”
Hook their thumbs in their belt buckles – watching a man hook his thumb in that belt only draws attention to his hips swathed in denim, or denim with chaps. Who doesn’t want to ogle that?
Care for animals –Because their lives are spent around cattle and horses, they appreciate how to care for them. Does this mean they’re in tune with their softer sides? I’d like to think so. At least the cowboys in my story Outlaws of Love are!

What drives you crazy about a rough and tumble type? I’d love to hear from you. And please read on for an excerpt of my new release!

 

It’ll take more than rope to tie down the man they love.

Country Fever, Book 3

When Christian comes out of the bar to find a bat-wielding country girl beating the hell out of his best friend Tucker’s truck, he does the only thing he can—he flirts with her. Unfortunately, he knows her pain—he’s in love with Tucker too.

Claire plans to nurse her bruised heart alone, but inevitably Tucker draws her back in—along with Christian—and the three of them tumble headlong into delirious passion. Then she and Christian wake to find that Tucker has fled his horse ranch, leaving them to care for the animals and each other.

Still grieving the death of his fiancée, pressured to sign over mining rights to a coal company, Tucker is boots-deep in emotional turmoil. Running only sharpens his longing for what he truly wants—Christian and Claire in his bed, in the barn, and under the stars.

But roping themselves firmly inside the circle of love will take everything they have—bulldogged determination, flying fists and aching hearts.

Product Warnings: Wrangle one heartsick cowboy, and the man and woman who love him. Throw in weeks of working in close quarters, bales of pent-up lust, and feel the burn of prairie-fire-hot desire. Now just try to walk away with your heart unbranded.

EXCERPT–rated melting-hot ADULT

“That’s it, baby. Open to me. Let me make you cling to the ceiling while Christian watches you come apart.”

Claire pasted a hand over Tucker’s chest, absorbing the rumble of his words. She darted a glance at Christian to find his eyes hooded with longing, his hard jaw set and fists clenched as if struggling to keep from diving into the booth with them.

Tucker drove his finger deep into her pussy, plunging it in and out twice then smearing the juices over her distended button. Pleasure surged, rushed in her ears. He circled her clit once…twice.

Ground it against her body.

And she spasmed. Digging her fingers into Tucker’s nape, she drew his mouth to hers as her pussy contracted wildly.

All the time, she stared into Christian’s eyes.

Her head spun as she came back down to reality. Crash landed, actually, when the cook called her name from the back room.

Tucker pulled his hand free and his mouth free and slid out of the booth. “I’ll handle this, baby doll.”

A boneless lump still twitching with pleasure, Claire could do nothing more than watch her lover stride across the diner to intercept the cook.

Claire met Christian’s dark, excited gaze. “You’re beautiful, you know.”

Warmth shot to her heart, causing a blossom of sudden affection. She felt her smile spread. “So are you. So is he.” She jerked her jaw at the man that wicked up all of the life in the room.

Christian swung his gaze toward the cowboy who was persuading the cook to take over the operation of the whole diner tonight, since it was so slow.

“Yeah,” Christian said slowly, as if dumbstruck, “a man like that should have a warning label.”

Buy Unbroken: Samhain | Amazon | BN

Thanks for reading! I’m giving away 1 e-book to one lucky commenter! Winner’s choice from my backlist.

Em Petrova

~hardworking heroes–in bed and out~

www.empetrova.com

 

The weekend’s just around the corner…

What are your plans? I hope they’re less stressful than my own!

If anyone is in Bismarck, Arkansas on Saturday, you should drop by. I’ll be setting up a booth at a craft fair to sell jewelry with my daughter, Kelly. Not that we’re anywhere near ready for it! I have stuff all over the place. I need to tag items. I don’t have any signage. Agh! This is not my area of expertise! Any advice, y’all?

Vivi Dumas: The Business of Writing

The Business of Writing

First, I want to thank Delilah for having me here today. I’m very excited to chat with all of you.

I’m not sure if many of us start out writing thinking we were starting our own business, right? We started writing because we had a story to tell. Or the voices in our heads wouldn’t leave us alone. It was most likely an artist venture or a personal journey. Not a business decision.

Then, once we had that lovely little story in hand, we thought, “Wouldn’t it be great if I could get it published.” The thought is much easier than the action, but the action starts a chain reaction which leads to a lot of work we probably never expected.

Writing may be artistic, but you need an MBA to deal with the business of publishing. Whether you contract with a publishing house or self-publish, technically we are all self-employed. What does that mean? A lot of work, planning and thinking.

My question to you today is do you treat your writing like a business?

Huh? What? (I know that’s what went through many of your minds.)

Here are some things you should think about as a business owner of (Your Name Here) Publishing.

Do you have a business plan with both short and long-term strategies? – Why do you need a business plan? It is your business/career map. It keeps you focused on your writing career goals and measures the success of your business. Most business fail because they never understood what success looks like. And success doesn’t have to look the same for everyone. Understand where you want to go and map out the direction to get you there.
Show me your short and long-term marketing plan. – Most of the time this is a part of your business plan. I tend to keep one outside of my business plan because I look at my marketing plan more frequently than my business plan. You need to track how much money marketing activities are costing you and whether you’re getting a return on your investment. Do you know which activities actually translate to sales? Most writer would say no. Why? Because they never track and measure the outcomes of a marketing activity. If you advertise at a site, what do you get from it? If you get no return on your investment, don’t keep advertising. How do you measure? Document your sales prior to the marketing activity going live, then check it for the week after it ends. How many sales did you get? What was your profit? Now subtract the cost of running the promotion. Did it make or cost you money? If it cost you money, did you get something else in return? (i.e. additional followers) Yes. All these things go into planning your marketing. I tend to look at my marketing plan each quarter, adding new items or removing items which no longer work.
Where do you want to spend your time? – This is something that is hard for me. We are writers. As writers, we need to do what? WRITE! So, don’t try to be an expert at everything or sometimes there is value in outsourcing. I found myself, especially since I self-pub some of my books, spending more time doing things like building/administering my website or trying to create banners or book covers. Those things are not my expertise, even if I could figure out how to do them. They also took way too much time away from my actual writing. Yes. We all want to save money, especially since there is very little aggregate profit in each book. But as authors our job is to write the best book we can and keep pumping them out for our fans. Spend your time and energy where it matters.

Those are a few activities which will help you with the business side of your writing. I’ve learn to appreciate having a strong business component in my day job to help manage my writing business. You don’t need a business degree to do this. Just a little common sense and awareness.

Upcoming Release in November 2013 – Book 3 in the Dueling with the Devil Series

Stolen Innocence Blurb:

They say ignorance is bliss, but when it comes to love and mating, Charity Lovell wished someone had schooled her on the ins and outs. She fell hard when she saw the beautiful face of the fair-haired demon as he lay broken in Lucifer’s dungeon. Her body ached for him. Her heart cried for him. This had to be her mate, right? Who else could make her trade her soul to the Devil to save someone she didn’t know? Someone should’ve told her love wasn’t quite as straight forward as that.

Damon lived an uncomplicated life, even as the alpha of the Lake Charles pack and the son of Lucifer. He should’ve taken a mate years ago, but held on to the hope of love. Only one female came close to making him believe he still had a chance for happiness. Yet, her heart belonged to someone else. Once again, the feeling is back, stronger than ever. And again, his female has pledged herself to another. Damn demons were ruining his love life. This time Damon plans to fight for what is his and win his rightful mate.

Author Bio:

Although Vivi Dumas grew up an Army brat, she calls Louisiana home, but have endured the hot summers and cold winters of Maryland for the last 16 years. She is a graduate of Mount St. Mary’s University with an MBA in Finance and Marketing. Her analytical side has honed a career in the financial industry for almost twenty years. To balance her logical, numerical day job, she unleashes her creativity in her writing.

Vivi pens multicultural paranormal romance, mixing the two genres she loves. Her steamy paranormal romances indulge in worlds inhabited by demons, werewolves, vampires, and other supernatural beings. She has published works with Decadent Publishing, Ravenous Romance, and Breathless Press.

Website Address: www.vividumas.com

Twitter Address: https://twitter.com/vivi_dumas

Facebook Address: https://www.facebook.com/vividumasfanhub

A Sneak Peek…

Since I’m neck deep in two projects that have to be done by the end of the month, I thought I’d share a quick sneak peek from one of them. This one will be indie-pubbed, so you don’t have long to wait… ~DD

* * * * *

“Sweetheart, how ’bout pretending you’re driving in rush hour traffic when a road-raging gangbanger pulls in front of you and slams on his brakes. What are you gonna do?”

“Flip him off? Duck behind my steering wheel?” Maya Cordoba asked, batting her eyelashes. Really, how could the man expect her to concentrate when his sexy green gaze stroked over her bared shoulders like a physical caress? Or was it just her imagination and he was really wondering why she’d dressed in skimpy shorts and a spaghetti-strapped tee for an anti-terrorist training seminar?

Angel Rickman sighed and rubbed a large hand over his short-cropped black hair. Suddenly, his eyes widened. “Keep your eyes on the road,” he practically barked at another steep, unmarked turn.

Maya almost felt sorry for him. She wasn’t exactly the class genius. After all, this was just a vacation for her. She wasn’t here like some of the other students who had to learn skills for real-life survival.

The most worrisome dilemma she’d ever faced was her travel agency’s audit when the accountant made the ominous pronouncement the company only months to prove up the business or their financial backers would sell off their assets.

All partners had drawn straws to see which of them would take the first “adventure” vacation so they could begin to familiarize themselves with this new line of offerings they hoped would net more sales. With experience only in high-end luxury packages, they’d all felt the need to become experts in the rapidly-expanding market for adventure tours. If not experts, at least they needed to get their feet wet so that they could add their personal recommendations to clients who preferred an adrenaline rush to being pummeled by a masseuse at a spa or earning a sunburn on some remote island beach.

Which was why she sat behind the steering wheel of a non-descript car on a lonely Central American highway surrounded by jungle with a man who’d introduced himself as a former merc (mercenary, he’d revised when she’d looked confused).

For Maya, the meeting had been lust at first sight.

Apparently, for Angel the experience was a living nightmare. As far as he was concerned, she drove with two left hands, braked with a lead foot, and must have gotten her driver’s license from a Cracker-Jacks box—or so she thought she heard him mumble under his breath.

Problem was, her normally razor-sharp focus on her own ambitions had lost its shiny edge. But how could she be blamed? With a build like a Chicago Bear’s linebacker, a square jaw, and blunt blade of a nose, he was the most enormous, physically powerful man she’d ever had sitting just six inches away. Never had she felt so intensely feminine—or so incredibly curious about a man’s intimate “proportions.”

And she knew for a fact he wouldn’t appreciate her opinion that his gorgeous eyes softened his tough-guy image. Moss-green with a sooty fringe of eyelashes…mmm-mm. Every gaze that sliced her way cut straight through her usual smart-ass reserve, rendering her insides into wiggly Jell-O.

She’d had hopes this winding trip into the mountains was just his way of getting her alone. Instead, he’d had her executing “boot turns” and “laying Goodyear” on the road—things he’d had her doing around a track with orange cones all morning long without mishap. But this narrow donkey trail of a highway was just another obstacle course.

“Time to play it for real, Princess.”

Recognizing the tension in his voice, Maya wrapped her fingers around the steering wheel like a $99 wedding dress at a Macy’s Fire Sale. The forest canopy opened and sunlight broke through the thick vegetation. An intersection loomed ahead.

“Gun it!” he bit out.

Maya pushed the pedal toward the floor.

Just before she entered the intersection, two cars appeared in her peripheral vision. The tires of a battered Land Rover on her left squealed as it turned ahead of her vehicle. Its brake lights flared bright.

Maya had just a moment to curse, knowing exactly why Angel had asked about gangbangers. Then she grabbed her emergency brake, gave the steering wheel a quarter turn, and executed a “boot turn” in the center of the crossing to face the opposite direction—too breathless to give a victory cheer.

But the second car slid neatly in front of her, cutting off her escape. She mashed the brake with her foot and halted an inch in front of the dented side of the Camaro.

For a long moment, she sat silent beside Angel, her lips pulling into a grimace before she shot him a glance. “How’d I do?” she asked in a small voice, hoping to be heard over her pounding heartbeat.

His eyes blinked as his fingers loosened from the dashboard. “Since we’re both dead now, I’d say you didn’t pass.”

The drivers of the other two vehicles got out and walked to her beat-up Dodge, wide grins wreathing their faces.

“What took you so long getting here, Angelito?” one of them asked.

To stop the burst of laughter threatening to erupt, Maya pressed her lips together. Who in his right mind would have the nerve to call the hulk beside her “Little Angel?” Recognizing another of the instructors, the one who’d lead the weapons familiarization class, she relaxed and decided to get out and stretch her legs.

Only when she got out of the car, she nearly crumpled to the pavement. “Hey, where’d my legs go?”

“Easy there,” Angel said, his arm slipping around her waist.

“You were fast,” she gasped as he pulled her against his chest.

“Only sometimes, Princess.”

Damn, his voice rumbled like a bear’s growl. Maya let her weak knees fold.

“You okay?”  His arm tightened around her.

“Just a little shaky,” she whispered, clinging to his broad shoulders, then leaning a little closer to breathe in his lovely, musky smell.

Amusement gleamed in his eyes for a moment before he jerked up his head. His eyes turned from moss to flint. “Back to camp, boys.”

“Yeah, I’m ready for a beer. Joining us?” the other guy said, a smirk on his lips.

“Later, maybe.”

Laughter followed the two well-built men as they climbed into their cars and drove in the direction the Dodge now pointed.

Unable to peel her gaze away from their flexing muscles, Maya just stared, and then looked up into Angel’s shuttered expression.

“You want me to drive?” he asked, his face tilted only slightly towards hers.

She cleared her throat and straightened inside his embrace. However much she liked the way his big hands molded against her sides, she wasn’t going to beg him to kiss her.

Not yet, anyway. She still owned a little Yankee pride. “I’m feeling better, now.”

His hands slid slowly away, and he stepped back.

Despite the sun glaring down, she felt chilled. Bereft, even. A word she’d never have used back in her real world. With her nipples prickling against her thin shirt after contact with his hard chest, she turned and plucked at the fabric. Had he even noticed? Or was he still critiquing her driving performance?

After she summoned the courage to face him again, she met his cool, hard gaze.

Angel pulled a pair of dark sunglasses from a pocket of his short-sleeved khaki shirt and slipped them on. “Keep it under the speed limit this time, chica. Class is over.”

Lynn Crain: Using Your Hometown As Setting

Using Your Hometown As Setting

First, a big thank you to Delilah for having me here. I’m Lynn Crain and I love to talk about my hometown. Both of them.

I’m sure that has you curious but first a little background. My home is a small town in southern Nevada. It’s one of those artsy places that gets really hot in the summer. I’ve lived there since I was a kid and never thought I’d leave for any reason. Sure, I’d been begging my husband for years to take me to a place that had seasons. I was tired of just having two: hot and cold. I kid you not. There is very little time where the climate is beautiful where I live.

There are very hot southwest summers where temperature soars to over a hundred on any given day. In the winter the wind can chill you to your bones. It seems that there is a month where spring and fall should be when it’s absolutely beautiful but not much more than that. Yet in the winter it is a mecca for older folks who no longer like living in harsher climates.

Yet, it is a wonderful place to set a series. And I have but it’s on a back burner for the moment. Why? Because in May of 2011, I got my wish to move somewhere that has four seasons. Count them. Spring, summer, fall and winter. There’s snow on the ground at least some of the time. The place gets barren and I get to see the spring bringing forth life after the cold winter. The summer has rain and while it is hot, it’s a different hot. Fall is a congruence of color that I can watch outside my window. What girl could ask for more? It was what I wished for…right?

Well, sort of, as I really wanted to stay closer to home. We moved to the interesting city of Vienna, Austria. The move was hard on me to say the least. I had to get used to a different language, a different lifestyle and living in a flat. I had to get used to a husband who traveled a lot and being alone a lot.

At first, I sulked. I didn’t like it here and I would tell anyone who would listen. The people are stoic and sometimes rude here. I got a dog and people started noticing me suddenly. There was weirdness all around and I was flustered and frustrated by my new life. So I did what any red-blooded American writer would do…I started a series about my new hometown…as a way of self-preservation. I figured if I learned more about my new home, it would become easier to live here. And it has in many ways.

Still, there are some rules when using your own hometown as a place to set a novel or even a series. Here are a few guidelines to help you on your way:

Decide if you’re writing a stand-alone novel or a series of books.

This will help you in planning your strategy for plotting and writing. If it’s a stand-alone book, there’s usually no problem as you continue to work it like you would any other story. With a series, especially in romance, you need to have something that links them be it characters or place. In my case, I’ve chosen Vienna as the basis for a short series of romance books. Romance books are unique as far as series goes as they don’t necessarily follow the same characters throughout the series. Usually, the next book is about a new couple. Again, that couple or situation or setting needs to be linked to the first book in the series in a manner that will be repeated through the entire series. Also, decide on the series title if you can at this stage. Most of the time, I know what the series will be called before I finish the first book. The series set in Nevada is called the Nevada Night series whereas the books set here in Vienna are all part of the A Taste of Vienna series because all of them take place in or very close to the city.

One thing to note, science fiction and fantasy series are usually about the same characters with the addition of new characters to make the story fresh. Many involve a quest or a search for something that the characters need or want to make life pleasant. Many are called to the quest not because they want to be but because of circumstance. This is what makes these genres very different from romance as far as series goes.

Do your research even though you know about the place you live in.

There is nothing I hate worse than to see a series set in Las Vegas where they get nothing right. I’ve lived in that area for over 40 years and some things remain the same after all this time. If you are going to use real places and real historical people, make sure you get them correct. I remember reading a book about Vegas where the person was describing the Strip and they had every hotel on the wrong side of the road. I did this for Vienna as well. I did a lot of historical research and current research into customs, how people live and what they do. Yet, I wrote the first story from the perspective of an American experiencing it for the first time. Why? I wanted to get that awe and wonder factor in my character. Sure, some of it is opinion but a lot of it was based upon actual experiences from the first year of living in the city. I used the Christkindlemarkts and the Adventmarkts because they were some of the things I love about the city during the holiday season. I collaborated with native Austrians to get the feel and the setting right. There will always be something you don’t know about where you live. It’s those obscure little facts that readers love. Use them to your advantage.

Define your characters.

Whether doing a single book or a series, whether using your hometown as a setting or not, you have to know your characters. When I wrote the series about southern Nevada, I wrote about what I knew and have a very unique character. She is an off-road racer in a field dominated by men. I could do this because I had a brother and a son who were well-known in their class of off-road racing. They were willing to let me in on secrets and other aspects of racing that only insiders knew.

When I started my series in Vienna, I knew the setup was completely different. I knew I wanted at least one of the main characters in each book to be American, the others were up for grabs. In the first book, A Viennese Christmas, they are both Americans who work for the UN. In the second book, to be released in November, the heroine is American and the hero is Greek. This city has a plethora of foreigners who live and work here. I have to do my research very carefully because I don’t necessarily have an insider’s view but again, I have an American view of someone living here.

Find inspiration.

Sure, sometimes it’s hard to find inspiration if you’ve been in the same town for 40 years. But take a good look at where you live. Does it give off the small town vibe? Mine does. It’s a small town who touts the fact that gambling is illegal inside its city limits. Only town in Nevada to have that moniker. That in itself makes my hometown unique. It also has a renaissance faire, an art show called Art in the Park that has an estimated 50k a year visiting, is the town that built Hoover Dam and a host of other interesting tidbits. All this in a town of only fifteen thousand people.

In Vienna, all I have to do is to look out my office window and think about how it was here a couple hundred years ago. This place oozes history from Roman times to today. I love going to Carnuntum, the site of a Roman gladiator school to rival Rome. I love going to the palaces and the museums and all the other places close to this city of nearly two million. Yet, things happen here that don’t happen elsewhere in the world. It’s a UN city with lots of dignitaries running around, it’s a city known for music, has a palace to rival Versailles and has taken a pact of neutrality. It is prime fodder for a series, be it mine or someone else’s, but I plan on giving it a shot.

Brainstorm with your critique group or writing partner or even good friends.

Once you have some of the basics down like setting and characters, do some plot planning before you start to write. This is easiest done in a brainstorming session with your writing buddies or whoever supports you while you write. I usually put the basics down and maybe a chapter or two then present it to my group and ask if they think this will even work. Sometimes the answer is yes, sometimes a maybe and sometimes a no way. I get honest and great feedback from my group, which allows me to make a decision and move forward, no matter what the decision. After all, a writer needs to write.

Start writing.

This is above and beyond the general proposal mentioned in number six. This is where you plant your butt to the chair and put in the time to get out a good story. I say good because it’s rare that someone will have an excellent first draft. The idea is to get it down on paper, or in most of our cases, on-screen and then start the finessing part of making it great. I agree 100% with Nora Roberts when she says, and this is me paraphrasing it, to get your story down on paper first and worry about the rest later.

Submission.

Once your book is complete and you’ve dotted all your i’s and crossed all your t’s, check it one more time to make sure your setting is as correct as possible. Again, readers will let you know if something doesn’t sound right or if they know it to be absolutely wrong.

Whether this book is for submission to a traditional publishers, large or small, or even if you’re going to self-publish, you want it to be the best it can be. Either way, you will have one more chance to verify facts and again, do so just to be sure. It never hurts.

Then start writing that next book because the faster you get the next one out, the better.

Those are my basic guidelines for using your hometown as the setting for your next novel. Hopefully, I’ve helped some of you…and don’t hesitate to email if you have any questions…good luck with your story!

Lynn

A Viennese Christmas

A Taste of Vienna Book 1

Amanda Kranz, alone in Vienna, Austria at Christmas, meets sexy, historian Henry Jager, who convinces her true love is real and within her grasp.

Sign language interpreter, Amanda Kranz, wants to find her soul mate but fears her chance has past due to the death of her childhood sweetheart. Finding sexy historian Henry Jager during an outing in her new home of Vienna, Austria, may have been a stroke of luck. When his ex-fiancée shows up just as their relationship starts to sizzle, Amanda must decide if standing up for what she really wants will give her lifetime happiness. Or will she be destined to spend her life alone?

Her disappointment must have been plain on her face as she found herself suddenly gazing into the greenest eyes in a very handsome male face. A question in German followed as she tried to ascertain just what he said.

“I’m sorry,” she stated, her confusion obvious. “I’ve only picked up a word or two since I’ve been here. Do you speak English?”

“You’re American?” he questioned without the accent most Austrians possessed.

“Don’t make it sound like such a curse. There are a lot of us, you know.” Her indignation evident in her tone.

His rich laughter filled the space, warming her to her bones in ways she hadn’t expected. “Sorry. I guess one does pick up the attitudes of where they live.”

She looked at him puzzled. “That’s that supposed to mean?”

“Henry Jager, American, at your service ma’am.” His sweeping bow brought a smile to her lips.

“Amanda Kranz and I hardly think I qualify as a ma’am.” She stuck her hand toward him. His firm grasp sent an electric sensation as she felt the spark deep within her. She swore he felt it too as his eyes darkened.

“Do you prefer Amanda or Mandi? I know there’s not much of a choice with Henry.” His serious gaze spot of his interest.

Laughter bubbled up in her, the first such emotion in weeks. “Henry is a fine, strong name. And it doesn’t matter much with mine.” His hot look made her want to shiver in anticipation of what she could only speculate.

“Really? I would have thought your business associates would call you Amanda. Now your intimate contacts I expect call you Mandi.”

She gazed at him. Intimate contacts, now there was a misnomer. It had been years since she’d had any intimate contacts of the male persuasion. “Sounds good to me.”

“You gave in too easy.” He reluctantly let go of her hand as his look took on a more serious aspect. “Are you meeting someone?”

She shook her head. “No one to meet.”

“Good.” He grabbed her hand again, placing it in the crook of his arm. “Have you ever been to one of these before?” Henry expertly meandered around people, baby carriages and more as he led her to the next booth.

“Not really. I saw them last year but being so new to the city, I couldn’t bring myself to go to one alone.” She gazed at the Rathaus beyond them, remembering how intimidated she’d been by building even though it had a Christmas tree in front.

His eyes narrowed. “Sounds like you’re still a relative newcomer.”

“I suppose so. I got here in November of last year.”

“Ah – your impression?” His brows lifted when he drew back as if to study her face.

“Very commercialized. I expected something more – ” she struggled to find the right word. “– more homey, more authentic – more Austrian.”

Henry gazed around a moment before looking back at her. “I see your point. This is probably the one Christkindlemarkt that’s got the least to offer in specialized, authentic goods in my opinion except it does have a certain ambiance. And of course, there’s the skating rink as well as the park decorations.”

Her brow arched in amazement. She really hadn’t expected anyone to agree with her. All the women she knew gushed over every one of them. “You agree with me?”

His naughty smile was breathtaking. “Most definitely. This is the one where most of the tourists come. While there are some very Austrian things here hidden amongst the drivel, most are not unique or special in any way.”

“My thoughts exactly. Where exactly does one find more traditional items?” Astonishment spread through her. She had not once heard anyone say a negative comment about Vienna. All her colleagues gushed over the city but as far as she was concerned, it was just another place to live.

They stopped in front of a food booth, the aroma tantalizing. “Would you like something hot to drink?”

The brisk breeze nipped at her cheeks and she felt the cold through her coat. She definitely could use something to warm her up. “Sure.”

BIO:

Lynn Crain realized at an early age she wanted to write. She took the long way to being published by doing a variety of things like nursing, geologist, technical writer and computer manager all of which have added to her detail-oriented stories. Now she’s a full time storyteller and weaves fantasy, futuristic and paranormal tales as well as erotic stories for various publishers. She normally lives in the very hot southwest with her family, dog, three cats and she’s gotten rid of her snakes. Don’t ask unless you want to hear some grumbling. Other members of her clan live nearby and include a son, daughter-in-law and two grandsons as well as various long-time friends. Currently, her kids have the house because she’s run away from home. She is a past national board member of the RWA; founding president of Las Vegas Romance Writers Chapter of RWA; has held the positions of president, vice-president, secretary and contest chair of EPIC. Her latest adventure has taken her to Vienna, Austria with her husband as he works at his dream job. You can find her hanging out at A Writer In Vienna Blog and various other places on the net. Still, the thing she loves most of all is hearing from her readers at lynncrain@cox.net.

PURCHASE Links:

All Romance eBooks ~ https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-aviennesechristmas-1031953-149.html

Amazon US ~ http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00BBFDLOK

Amazon UK ~ https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00BBFDLOK

Amazon DE ~ http://www.amazon.de/Viennese-Christmas-Taste-Vienna-ebook/dp/B00BBFDLOK

Amazon FR ~ https://www.amazon.fr/dp/B00BBFDLOK

Amazon ES ~ https://www.amazon.es/dp/B00BBFDLOK

Amazon JP ~ http://www.amazon.co.jp/dp/B00BBFDLOK

Amazon CA ~ https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B00BBFDLOK

Amazon IT ~ https://www.amazon.it/dp/B00BBFDLOK

Barnes and Noble ~ http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/a-viennese-christmas-lynn-crain/1114313180?ean=2940016221441

iTunes ~ pending

Kobo ~ http://www.kobobooks.com/ebook/A-Viennese-Christmas/book-KLxTdvUwEkukzOyG93F9yA/page1.html

Smashwords ~ https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/282513

Where Lynn Is:

www.lynncrain.com

lynncrain.blogspot.com

awriterinvienna.blogspot.com

http://throughheartshapedglasses.com/

www.theloglineblog.blogspot.com

http://lynncrain.livejournal.com/

http://www.myspace.com/lynncrain

http://groups.yahoo.com/group/XtraOrdinaryRomance/

http://www.twitter.com/oddlynn3

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http://www.youtube.com/lynncrain

http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/684863.Lynn_Crain

https://www.amazon.com/author/lynncrain