Delilah Devlin's Blog, page 447
July 23, 2013
A Question…
Today, I’d much rather be spending time in my art workroom, making or painting something. I need to get this blog up, and then I need to turn my attention back to the book I have to revise. But I don’t want to do those things. Am I five?
Sometimes, the writing doesn’t give me that quick fix of approval I crave. A lovely review of something I wrote months and months ago, doesn’t quite fill that needy core. And I am needy. Which kind of surprises me, because folks who know me, think I’m one of the strongest people they know. And smart. I can do anything I put my mind to doing. Sometimes, however, I don’t make the smart choice.
Guess that makes me human.
So, help me blow off my responsibilities. What do you think of these two little bracelets? Do they need more of a stack? I love the non-precious stone makeup of them. It’s natural, clean. Riverstone and Crazy Horse jasper. I made another bracelet last night of a slightly yellower beige stone, grain stone, with pretty blingy distressed beads to go with it. Now I want to make another and another. Does it need another color? Something to make it pop a bit? I have some blue goldstone–think polished navy cubes with the glimmer of little sparks of gold–I thought I might make something with that, mix it up with some smaller cream riverstone. I don’t want everything the same size or even the same shape. Other than navy, what other colors would you recommend?
How about a question you might feel more comfortable answering? Is there an art (painting, pottery, jewelry making, sculpture) that you would like to try? What’s holding you back?
July 22, 2013
Guest Blogger: Leta Blake & Keira Andrews
Everyone was beautiful at the ballet,
Every prince has got to have his swan,
Yes, everyone was beautiful at the ballet,
Hey, I was pretty…at the ballet.
–“At The Ballet”, from A Chorus Line
In Love’s Nest, our latest sexy gay fairy tale, Keira Andrews and I wanted to create a world, similar to the universe in our first book, Earthly Desires, in which the characters’ sexuality does not matter even a little bit. We wanted to create a story that did not focus on dynamics of coming out, on social anxieties, fears, or hiding who the characters loved.
Unfortunately, in a contemporary or historical piece it is unrealistic to attempt to ignore such important personal and social issues for the sake of a sweet story. But fairy tales a perfect way to sidestep that sort of problem. In a magical realm where homoamorous feelings are accepted as nothing of consequence, and revelation of one’s sexuality passes without problem or fanfare, the characters are able to leave aside all that heavy and realistic baggage for explorations of another sort.
In a similar vein, I recently had the opportunity to watch Les Ballets Trockadero de Monte Carlo at Celebrate Brooklyn. If you’ve never heard of Trockadero, allow me to quote from Wikipedia: Les Ballets Trockadero de Monte Carlo is an American all-male drag ballet corps which parodies the conventions and clichés of romantic and classical ballet.
The word ‘parodies’ above does a disservice to what I saw Trockadero doing that night before the deluge of rain came down and spoiled the beautiful ballet. I saw men in beautiful dresses, complete with tutus, a mass of dark chest hair still visible over the white of the heart-shaped bodice, who were beautifully, passionately, and, yes, sometimes humorously dancing out the stories of ballets I have long loved. The fact that they were in drag did not detract from the raw masculinity of their corps and when the tragic ending of Swan Lake played out, my heart wrenched in my chest. Perhaps all the more because it was a different sort of swan and a different sort of prince.
It is my belief that the familiarity of old tales gives us an emotional touchstone that does not disappear when different variables such as gender or sex are changed. And yet those changes can be powerful and cause the heart and mind to reexamine everything they thought they knew about the original tale simply because it now stars two heroes or two heroines. And I firmly believe that Trockadero is as brilliant and masterful as it is due to that wrenching open of rusted doors, the release of emotions associated with the old ballets we have loved a long time combined with the magnificent choreography—often beautiful, sometimes comedic, but never campy, and always genius.
If you have a chance to check out Trockadero, please consider doing so. They are certainly worth the price of a ticket. (Though I was lucky enough to see them for free! Until it rained. Boo!)
Love’s Nest is a fairy tale based on the classic The Twelve Dancing Princesses. It is wholly re-imagined with a fairies, a fairyland, and many, many feathers. We are excited for the book and hope that readers enjoy reading about a world where today’s issues can be left behind and a familiar story ignites passionately as two handsome heroes face problems that only a fairy tale world can produce.
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Buy link:
Amazon
Ellora’s Cave
It will shortly be available at Barnes & Noble, Sony, and others!
There’s no greater mystery in the kingdom than how Prince Mateo’s sisters wear out their shoes each night while locked away in their chambers. Using old magic, Mateo discovers their secret and follows them through a portal to an enchanted world of fairies and lusty delights. Ópalo has waited years for his male human, and he knows Mateo is his destiny. Mateo soon succumbs to the pleasures of the flesh, but as their worlds collide, Ópalo has to risk everything to win his man forever.
Leta Blake Bio:
While Leta Blake would love to tell you that writing transports her to worlds of magic and wonder and then safely returns her to a home of sparkling cleanliness and carefully folded laundry, the reality is a bit different from that. For as long as Leta can recall, stories have hijacked her mind, abducting her to other lands, and forcing her to bend to the will of imaginary people. This absence from reality results in piles of laundry and forgotten appointments. In between abductions, Leta works hard at achieving balance between her day job, her writing, and her family. When not spirited away by demanding imaginary people, Leta lives happily with her husband, her kid, and one too many dogs in the Southern United States.
Follow her on Facebook, Twitter or on her blog!
Keira Andrews Bio:
After writing for years yet never really finding the right inspiration, Keira discovered her voice in gay romance, which has become a passion. She writes both contemporary and historical fiction and — although she loves delicious angst along the way — Keira firmly believes in happy endings. For as Oscar Wilde once said: The good ended happily, and the bad unhappily. That is what fiction means.
July 21, 2013
Guest Blogger: Kate Hill (Contest)
Historical romance is one of my favorite types of books to read. It’s a ticket to sexy adventures with bold heroes from the past.
If asked to pick my top three fantasy tours of the ones I’ve taken through historical romance, they would be:
1. Adventures with a Medieval Knight. There’s something about the code of honor many knights in romance novels live by that place them among my favorite heroes. Even if his armor is tarnished and he has become an ominous knight, you know that in the end he’ll redeem himself and pledge his heart to the woman he loves. His world is one of castles, armor, tapestries, cathedrals and feudalism.
2. Swept Away by a Hero of the American Revolution. He’s willing to risk everything for the chance at a new life in a new land. Strong and rebellious by nature, he definitely has a wild streak, but he’s also willing to work hard for the future of his loved ones. His world involves muskets, minutemen, George Washington and Knowlton’s Rangers.
3. Sailing with Vikings. It’s hard to resist a burly sword-wielding warrior who is also a master of the sea. The Viking romance hero might be a raider or a trader. Maybe he’s both. One thing is certain, a visit to his world will be an adventure, especially if you’re the lucky woman who shares his bed closet!
These are just three time periods I’ve enjoyed while reading historical romance novels. There are so many others. What are some of your favorites?
Contest
To enter this contest you must be 18 or over.
To enter for the chance to win a download of an ebook from my Ellora’s Cave backlist (winner’s choice of title) please comment with your favorite historical romance time period or favorite type of historical hero. Also send an email to katehill@sprintmail.com letting me know you would like to be entered in the contest. The contest will run for three days from the day of this post. At the end of that time, a winner will be selected from the comments. Thank you!
About Kate
Always a fan of romance and the paranormal, Kate Hill started writing over twenty years ago for pleasure. Her first story, a short erotic vampire tale, was accepted for publication in 1996. Since then she has sold over one hundred short stories, novellas and novels.
When she’s not working on her books, Kate enjoys reading, working out and spending time with her family and pets.
Kate also writes under the pen name Saloni Quinby. She enjoys hearing from readers and she can be contacted at katehill@sprintmail.com. Visit Kate online at http://www.kate-hill.com.
Northman’s Pleasure releases July 17th at Ellora’s Cave.
Legend is Grim Hammerhand is half wolf. Vowing never to marry, the muscular, red-haired warrior saves his passion for the battlefield and the forge. That is, until the woman he secretly lusts after is abducted.
Asgerd has loved Grim for years, only to be ignored by the object of her desire. She has eluded the bonds of marriage, hoping that someday Grim will notice her, but her dreams are shattered when she is captured and defiled by the brutal warrior Stein.
After the king sends Grim to rescue his daughter and claim Stein’s land, the passion between the couple finally ignites. In the end, Grim’s mistrust of all women could destroy their one true chance for happiness.
“Defiant females must be common around here then.” Grim raised an eyebrow and held up Asgerd’s bonds, then tossed them aside.
It felt so good to be free of them. She rotated her ankles. He grasped her foot and lightly rubbed the place where the metal had worn away part of her boot. Their gazes locked and Asgerd’s heart beat faster. She studied Grim’s angular face and lingered over the breadth of his shoulders. Glancing at the long-fingered hand curled around her ankle, she imagined how it would feel on other parts of her body.
After what she’d endured with Stein, she’d never imagined being aroused by a man, but it seemed he hadn’t fully killed her passion.
For so long Asgerd had managed to save herself and avoid coupling with men she could never love. Truly, in a girlish fantasy, she’d imagined Grim falling in love with her, marrying her and taking her to his bed. Now, whether he claimed her or not, she had been ruined by Stein. She wondered if she’d ever cleanse her soul of that filthy pig’s touch.
“Is my cousin Thora alive?” Asgerd asked. She hoped Thora had survived the attack during which Stein had taken Asgerd captive.
“Yes,” Grim replied.
Asgerd sighed with relief.
Grim finally released her ankle. He stood and she couldn’t help admiring the length of his muscular legs. His hard thighs strained against his trousers and his soft boots hugged his well-developed calves. He raised his hand and Asgerd instinctively flinched—not that she believed Grim would strike her, but after being with Stein, she’d learned to dodge blows.
His brow furrowed. “I was merely reaching for the shackles,” he said, taking them from the table. Their gazes met for a moment and he glanced at a rough-looking slave woman who was cleaning off the table. “Leave that to the others. I want the bed closet emptied of Stein’s belongings and the bedding aired. From now on my wife and I will be staying there.”
Asgerd’s heart sank. She forced herself to sound just mildly interested when she said, “Wife? I didn’t know you married, Grim.”
“I haven’t yet. Your father offered me this land if I defeated Stein. He also offered me your hand in marriage.”
July 20, 2013
Snippet Saturday: Boys of Summer
In case you didn’t know (and I’d understand why—my release schedule has been very busy the past couple months), I released a new collection of my own short stories a little while ago. It’s the second volume of Strokes, and it’s filled with naughtiness. Enjoy the excerpt! It’s from “Tailgating at the Cedar Inn” which was one of two stories recently published in Penthouse Magazine. Yes, I’ve been in Penthouse—my mama’s so proud! 
If you post a comment today, you’ll be entered to win
a free download of this book!
From National Bestselling Author, Delilah Devlin, comes another naughty collection of seven bedtime stories—a week’s worth of nighttime reading pleasure.
Ride along with two soldiers, just returned from war, who find sweet release in “The Long Ride Home.” In “Tailgating at the Cedar Inn,” a woman has one last fling with two sexy construction workers. A cowboy kidnaps his “Runaway Bride” to get some sweet satisfaction. A woman travelling alone in Europe enjoys a hot steamy sauna in the “Textile Free” zone. In “Love in Bloom,” a florist tempts her high school crush. A naughty nooner with an office colleague ends in a “Quick Draw.” A dispatcher kicks inhibitions to the door when she seduces a younger truck driver in “Drive Me Crazy.”
Four of the stories have appeared in separate Cleis Press anthologies. Two of the stories were featured in Penthouse magazine! All the stories are featured in one sinfully hot collection…
I stepped out of the shower onto chipped and cracked aqua blue tiles with grout so dingy I couldn’t tell what color it had been. Not that the bathroom was dirty, thank god. Just old. Like the rest of the 60’s-built motel I’d found on the little back country road.
Standing before the sink, I toweled my hair then shook my head like a dog, not caring where the droplets landed. The mess wasn’t one I’d have to clean. For one last night, I could be irresponsible, messy, even if only in a small way.
I draped the towel over the edge of the old white tub and sauntered naked into the small room with the double bed. The air smelled of tobacco and industrial cleansers. The bedding looked clean if a little nappy from wear, but I peeled back the quilt-top and tossed it on the floor anyway. Pristine white sheets beckoned.
Just as I lay back, sighing with relief, sounds from outside the room jarred me from my happy haze. Tires squealed, masculine laughter bellowed through the thin walls, and car doors slammed.
A sigh escaped and I stared at the bared rafters above. The laughter faded. I reached across to flip off the switch to the nightstand lamp with its yellowed shade. Lying in the darkness, I willed my body to relax, one limb at a time. That day, I’d driven three hundred miles. I’d have gone another fifty for a decent hotel, but the shorter route my Garmin dictated led me through narrow two-lane roads deep in the Ozark Mountains. I doubted I’d have found anything nicer.
Maybe I should have stuck to the Interstate, but I’d wanted to shave some miles. Little did I know the route would keep my foot busy pushing on the gas pedal then the brake the whole way. Exhausted with nerves shattered, I’d seen the crooked Vacancy sign outside the Cedar Inn and made my decision on the spot, swerving into the empty gravel parking lot. Not until I’d opened the door to my tiny, musty room did I have second thoughts about my decision. But how bad could the room really be? I’d turned on the swamp cooler set into a window frame and felt my hair frizz instantly.
Not that I’d really cared. No one was around to impress. Other than the clerk at the front desk, a skinny, twenty-something redneck with puppy dog eyes, the place was deserted. At the thought, I’d shivered a little bit, double-bolted my room door and checked the lock on the window. Visions of the shower scene from Psycho didn’t put me off taking a long, lukewarm soak to wash away the road grime and sweat.
The cooler purred, spilling muggy air into the room. The sheets felt clammy. Still, I grew calm as my body warmed the sheets beneath me, then a little horny when I wondered if the room might have little peepholes for the clerk to watch me. He’d been cute, if a little skinny. I wouldn’t mind if he watched—at least not in my fantasies. Who knew how long before I felt comfortable enough, private enough to indulge in a little one-handed play when my grandmother slept in the room next to mine.
I slipped a hand between my thighs and lazily trailed my fingers through my cleft until my breath caught and heat pooled. I raised my knees and let them fall open, tilted my hips and thrust two fingers inside my pussy. I wasn’t in a hurry. I wasn’t even that eager to come. The motion soothed and excited, allowing my mind to let go of my troubles—the firing, the break-up, the move to my grandmother’s house—and focus only on the pleasure curling deep inside my core.
When the blare of a TV sounded from outside, I had third and fourth thoughts about my decision to stop here for the night. What the hell? Why had someone moved their television set outside rather than watch in the seclusion of their room where the sound would be somewhat muffled.
I gritted my teeth, swung my legs over the side of the bed and reached for shorts and a tee, slipping them over my nude body and jammed the keys in my pocket before I stomped to the door and flung it open.
Not that the two men sitting on the truck noticed me—at first.
Under the single flood light that illuminated the parking lot, I noted the construction company logo on the side of the pickup backed up to the door of the room beside mine. Then I eyed the large men seated on the sides of the truck bed, their shirts gone, faded jeans stretched over thick thighs. Their attention was glued to the basketball game, blaring from the small screen of the TV resting in the bed of the truck on top of a white ice chest. They held Budweisers in their grips.
At last, one of the men’s heads turned. He spotted me then whistled at his friend. Soon, both their gazes peered down.
I felt foolish standing in my bare feet with wet hair spiked around my head. Why hadn’t I simply put a pillow over my head to muffle their noise? But I was testy. Moody. I’d lost my job, had a blow-up with my boyfriend over the fact I wouldn’t be splitting rent for a while, and cut my nose off to spite my own face by breaking up with him. Homeless now, I had no options. Grandma’s in Little Rock was my last resort.
Tonight would be my last night of freedom before I moved under her roof and abided by her rules. She’d pay the bills—if I knuckled under and went back to college. Something I resented after being on my own for a couple of years, living on my schedule.
Which might have been exactly why I remained rooted to that spot. The men seated on the truck would never meet Grandma’s high standards.
Sweat gleamed on their naked chests and both men were thickly muscled and a little dirty—as though they’d come straight from work without the benefit of a shower.
The shine only served to emphasize the depth of the musculature and their starkly masculine features. Their tanned, leathery skin stretched across cheeks and jaws sharpened to rough edges by hard work. Both their gazes homed on me.
While I knew the smart thing would have been to retreat without a word to my room and relock the door, I tilted my chin and thrust out my chest. “Can’t you watch the game in your room?”
“We botherin’ you, sweetheart?” the one closest to me said, sliding off the truck to land in front of me.
I peered a long way up and frowned into the face tilted my way. We stood close enough I could see the bristles of his evening shadow. He wore a ball cap that shadowed his eyes, but glints of blond hair shone beneath it. “It’s late. I was trying to sleep.”
“Not that late,” he drawled. “Join us for a beer?”
I glanced behind him and noted the grin on his buddy’s face. He was bare-headed with shaggy brown hair and a devilish quirk to his firm lips. The game seemed to have lost its fascination. Their gazes drank me down like I was a long cool drink of their favorite beverage.
I barely resisted the urge to jut my hip and twirl my hair.
“Bobby, the night clerk, can vouch for us if you’re wonderin’ whether we’re safe,” the one beside me said, amusement lingering in his husky voice.
I shouldn’t have been tempted. However, my body still hummed pleasurably from the heat I’d drawn with my own lazy fingers. Even sweaty, the two men were tempting. Both young, in good shape. Both interested, if their sharpening gazes were any indication.
And what the hell? I no longer had anyone to answer to. Not at this moment. And no boyfriend to betray.
My mouth went dry and I swallowed. “Is the beer cold?”
* * * * *
Be sure to check out the snippets on these other authors’ blogs:
Lauren Dane
Shelli Stevens
Leah Braemel
Jody Wallace
Caris Roane
Eliza Gayle
Lissa Matthews
Mandy M. Roth
McKenna Jeffries
Shiloh Walker
Taige Crenshaw
HelenKay Dimon
TJ Michaels
July 19, 2013
Guest Blogger: G.D. Ogan
Following is a short interview with my guest today, G.D. Ogan… DD
Q: Can you tell us a little about yourself?
A: I’m a retired Air Force Major. I have a pair of graduate degrees unfortunately not in English or Literature. I’m also retired from a second “calling” as a psychologist with the Texas Department of Criminal Justice where I evaluated inmates for various treatment programs and in another area of work actually wrote treatment programs for overcoming addictions.
Q: Did you ever imagine yourself writing novels?
A: In my youth, I’d written articles on various long distance running events I participated in. Then, in the military, I did a great deal of technical writing and continued technical writing in my work for the Prison System in the State of Texas. I’d also written many articles and sent pictures about car shows I attended; however, if anyone had said I’d someday write adult paranormal-romance novels, I would have laughed at them. I, like most men, I believe, didn’t realize how encompassing the romance genre was, or how extremely interesting most of the books were! I think men misunderstand what “romance” means - they (and I include myself before I saw the light) believe it is a narrow tear jerker about “all that mushy stuff” women like…how wrong that is!
Q: You have already released two books: Immortal Relations and Immortal Relations, Love and War, and a third coming soon. Could you tell my readers what prompted you to write a series?
A: This is a little bit hard, but like they say, “The truth will make you free.” When I was little, my mother said some things that I didn’t understand, things like, “He is over there with that woman.” At one point she even asked me what I would think if she divorced my father. I think all little boys are defensive of their mothers, and I told her if he hurt her she should. As I grew I “forgot” all about that as they never divorced. Now that I look back on it, they probably stayed together “for the children” or in the case of our family “the child” since I had no siblings. Being young, I never thought it odd that they slept in separate rooms. I had retired from the Air Force and was working for the State of Texas about four and a half hours away from where they lived when I got the call that my father had died. Knowing my disabled mother needed care, I set in motion my retirement from my job in Huntsville, Texas and went to care for my mother who stated that she wished to remain in her home. I was the single care giver for her for her for the next five years. She had given me life and cared for me all those years, I felt honored that I could do something for her. After she passed away from Alzheimer’s I had the daunting task of going through all the many, many file cabinets my father had. These weren’t the small light weight cabinets found at discount stores; these were tall and deep, seven drawer, lockable, government style file cabinets stuffed to bursting with papers back as far as the 1930s.
When I finally got the last drawer cleaned out, I had over 50 of the largest heavy-duty trash bags overflowing. Looking into the bottom drawer I saw one small item. Yellow from age with coffee cup half and full moon stains an abandoned envelope was all that remained. Grabbing it, I felt that it had something inside it, something flat, small and lightweight. Had I just thrown it in the trash, I wonder if my life might have gone on without ever writing a novel, let alone a series. Being curious, I opened the envelope finding a very old photograph of my father as a younger man standing in front of a strange-looking building with a large clock face on the outside. I flipped the picture over and saw my father’s handwriting, “Prague Czechoslovakia.” Had I just glanced at it and threw it away… Oh well, I didn’t. Instead I looked closely and saw the feminine handwriting on the lower half of the photo which said, “I’ll always be waiting here.” Suddenly, what my mother had said all those many years before came rushing back and the photo proved that my late father had an affair while stationed in Czechoslovakia, or the Czech Republic as it is now known. This event is what started me writing the novels, and the photograph shown on page two of “Immortal Relations” is what spurred me to start the series. My character travels to where “his” father had worked and had the tryst and there he meets a captivating lady. It doesn’t take long before he realizes she isn’t “normal,” nor is love long in blooming between the two (and like they say, “love conquers all”). The story is full of action as the man trades in his human life for that of a guardian vampire.
Q: In what way is your vampire series different from other vampire stories?
A: These are not the “Bram Stoker” type of vampires, Rather than attacking humans they are dedicated to protecting the innocent from the out of control type of vampires, human criminals and self-serving politicians seeking only continuation and increases in power.
Q: That is a different concept. How do your vampires sustain their existence? Do they consume blood? If so, how to they get it?
A: The good vampires have corporations. One owns funeral homes. Under funerary law, the deceased’s blood is drained (not by anything horrific but by professional means). The blood is then mixed with a special anti-coagulant and quick frozen to be used by the good vampires.
Q: Did you draw upon your military background in writing the series?
A: Definitely, in the first book, an evil vampire gang is thwarted in their attempted frontal assault on the guardian vampires’ compound and a secondary attack on military units to gain “converts” and heavy weapons to use against the good vampires is foiled by Czech forces with the aid of our vampires. Then the guardian vampires gain the support of the British Army and Royal Marines to keep the evil vampires from capturing nuclear weapons, followed by Russian Federation troops crushing the evil vampires attempt to steal biological weapons to be used to blackmail human governments into allowing them to feed unmolested. As you will see, I use the tactical and strategic knowledge gained during my military career in both books. The second picks up where the first leaves off by offering one of the heroes of the first book the chance to beat the cancer threatening his life by becoming a vampire himself.
Q: Is there anything else you would like to tell us?
I offer a comment by one of those who bought the book. His name is Richard Rasmussen, and I wish I knew how to contact him (since he appreciated the first book so much, I’d send him copies of the other books in the series): “Being a bit of a vampire-phile, I find myself constantly searching for the next vampire series to reach out and grab, or, more appropriately, bite me. I believe I have found my holy grail of vampire novels. You see, the Vlad books are typically a bit gory for my tastes, while the Twilight series is campy, sophomoric, and I feel, is most appealing to teenage girls. Mr. Ogan has delivered a tale at breakneck speed, one that jumps out of the starting gate and never loses steam. A tale filled with life lessons, love, sex, action and adventure. Complete with new insights into the powers of the immortal vamps, and fresh takes on the complex inner workings of their existence. From page 1 until the very end, Immortal Relations promises to have you on the edge of your seat and begging for more…”
Excerpt from Book One:
The sky was starting to clear and looked as if the day would be clear and bright. At that time of morning, since it was Sunday, there were very few vehicles on the road. My driver slowed to a stop and pointed out the Old Town Hall through his windshield. Then he said, “Hotel…very soon,” and in seconds he had stopped his cab at the curb by the hotel’s front entrance. I got out with my bags and held out paper money and coins to pay for the trip. He took what he needed; I thanked him and waved as he drove off.
At the front desk, I arranged for a room and took the stairs to the third floor. I was still very early, but I wanted to start looking around, so I just dropped my bags by the bed, went back to the first floor and walked the short distance back to the Old Town Hall. The sidewalks were deserted; the only traffic I saw, as I walked, was a cab and an almost empty bus.
Getting out my picture, I looked everywhere for other pedestrians, but it seemed too early, and I saw no one else anywhere in the area. I held the picture up high, walking around, and closely compared both the architecture and the angle from which the photograph had been taken. As I looked at the windows, I noted one that gave me a reflected view of the other side of the road. There, on the opposite side which had been empty only seconds ago, someone was suddenly standing; but I was sure there hadn’t been anyone there a second before.
Seeing her, dressed like a high fashion model, in a light blue, lacy, scalloped, and layered, yet shape-hugging haut-couture, dress, I gasped; My God she was stunningly beautiful! I’d seen pictures of “Hollywood starlets” and ”super models” and I knew the Czechs had several of these, such as the lovely Paulina Porizkova and Petra Nemcova, and I thought this had to be one of them. But just as suddenly as she appeared, she vanished! I thought she might have moved, and I’d missed it, so I turned to look and found myself starring into a pair of eyes with nearly black irises. Automatically, my head jerked back; the vision of loveliness I’d seen across the street was mere inches from me. She said, “Excuse me; I didn’t mean to startle you!” Then she smiled the most brilliant smile I’d ever seen, my knees felt like rubber as I started to fall back, but her hand shot out, grabbing my arm to keep me upright. The power in her arm surprised me, and my heart raced, but I couldn’t tell if it was from almost failing or the close proximity of such a beauty. After I felt like I could stand on my own, she introduced herself as Magdalena Dvora’k, saying she had seen me looking at a photograph and asked if I’d been to Prague before.
When I told her the picture was taken of my father standing near this building many years before, she asked to see it and I handed it to her. Without skipping a beat, she said “Doug Logan.” If my legs had been rubber before, now they were Jelly! Dazed, I staggered back with her hand back on my arm, and I leaned against the wall of the building. Her gaze transfixed me as she looked deeply into my own brown eyes. It seemed as if she were God’s own angel assigned to test and weigh my soul, but for how long I didn’t know.
Once I’d regained some composure I said, “How…how could you know my father’s name?”
July 18, 2013
Confession: I’m a blog whore!
Can’t you see that title spread across a confessions magazine? The picture would be of a woman in her jammies, hair spiked all over her head because she hasn’t run a brush through it yet, mascara smudged beneath her eyes…as she sits in front of her computer. That’s me. Yup. Not pretty in the mornings.
I missed posting here yesterday. Must be because I’ve been corralling authors on the Smokin’ Hot Blog Tour and writing up blogs to post on every blog that will have me. Smokin’ Hot’s doing well BTW! Great reviews, and the word is gettin’ out! Go team!
Of course, I’m gonna give you links to things I think you should know about (places you HAVE to go!). Hang with me a minute.
If you’d like to know where we have already been, look at my home page. I have the entire list there. It’s important, because none of the prizes have been awarded so far, so if you are just joining us now, there’s still time to enter and win some great prizes!
Today’s Smokin’ Hot post comes from Adele Dubois. She’s visiting Ramblings from This Chick. Head on over there now and tell her hi!
On High Octane Heroes, we have Janice Seagraves visiting. Up for grabs is an Amazon.com gift card I’ll be awarding on the 30th, so don’t miss out!
So those were the commercials. I’m done sellin’. Bet you didn’t need all that much proddin’ anyway. And why am I droppin’ all my “g’s”?
I’ve been writing this Nawlin’s cop and he’s in my head big-time. Juste Boucher is a devil!
July 16, 2013
3 New Releases!
Yes, multiples again! I can’t keep up. I hope you can! Click on the covers if you’d like to learn more about the books!
First, because I’m not the only author eager for this book to succeed…
Who can melt any woman’s heart with a single smile? The sexiest icon of all—a fireman!
They enter fiery structures with selfless courage–the very definition of the word “hero.” Women understand their allure… A soot-covered face, sweat dripping from hard, chiseled muscles, the sharp snap of suspenders—yes, only a fireman can make suspenders sexy! Delilah Devlin’s burning-hot book includes thrilling stories teeming with gorgeous firemen from some of today’s hottest romance writers. In “Saving Charlotte,” Sabrina York’s firefighting Dom rescues a woman tied to a red-hot bed; from Cathryn Fox comes “Temperature Rising” where a fire chief fulfills some very steamy fantasies; Elle James’s “Chasing Fire” sees a daring smoke-jumper parachuting into the hot zone of a forest fire then setting his girlfriend ablaze with erotic heat; and Magic Mike ain’t got nothin’ on Delilah’s own fireman-turned-exotic-dancer-for-a-night “Johnny Blaze.”
With a list of award-winning authors that includes Ily Goyanes, Shoshanna Evers, Adele Dubois, and Rachel Firasek, Delilah delivers tales of these courageous men sliding down their big poles to steal readers’ hearts! Smokin’ Hot Firemen imagines the romantic possibilities of being held against that massively muscled chest by a man whose mission is to protect and serve…
We are three stops into our blog tour. No prizes have been awarded yet, so there’s time to enter! Come join the fun!
July 15: Erzabet’s Enchantments (Delilah)
July 16: Nana Prah’s Blog (Maggie Wells)
July 16: Promo It’s Raining Books (Maggie Wells)
* * * * *
The next installment of Crescent Moon releases today! If you’ve already purchased the serialized novel, no worries, more of the story will automatically download to your Kindle today. If you haven’t, well, why the hell not? Like mummies? Demons? Hot Nawlin’s cops?
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.
* * * * *
And here comes the next collection of my own personally written short stories. Follow the links and see what readers are already saying…
From National Bestselling Author, Delilah Devlin, comes another naughty collection of seven bedtime stories—a week’s worth of nighttime reading pleasure.
Ride along with two soldiers, just returned from war, who find sweet release in “The Long Ride Home.” In “Tailgating at the Cedar Inn,” a woman has one last fling with two sexy construction workers. A cowboy kidnaps his “Runaway Bride” to get some sweet satisfaction. A woman travelling alone in Europe enjoys a hot steamy sauna in the “Textile Free” zone. In “Love in Bloom,” a florist tempts her high school crush. A naughty nooner with an office colleague ends in a “Quick Draw.” A dispatcher kicks inhibitions to the door when she seduces a younger truck driver in “Drive Me Crazy.”
Four of the stories have appeared in separate Cleis Press anthologies. Two of the stories were featured in Penthouse magazine! All the stories are featured in one sinfully hot collection…
July 15, 2013
Guest Blogger: Jennifer Kacey
Most people these days, thanks to Fifty Shades and other books about BDSM, have heard the term safeword. It’s a word normally employed by a “bottom” or “submissive” to stop whatever scene, session or activity they are involved in. It can be a word like red, and for some it can be a sound, like snapping your fingers. Cause if you’ve got a gag in…well you get my point. J
When I write BDSM stories, all of my characters (so far) have used a safeword. I like the idea of having a word that will call a halt to everything happening around them. No matter how emotional a scene, or physically demanding the sex is, there’s a way for each of my submissives to get out.
Why do I give them a safeword?
So they don’t use it.
On the surface, a safeword is a get out of jail free card. Sometimes literally depending on how tied up one of my characters is. Using a safeword is the ultimate safety net, but the meaning behind it gives my subs complete power. They can take, or refuse anything their Dom(s) demand. Being strong enough to accept it to me is uber sexy.
Submitting involves more trust than most people can even comprehend. It’s scary and exhilarating and will leave the characters floating in a sea of sensation so poignant they’re hooked from the words, “Give me your hands.”
Having a safeword to use allows my characters to believe they are safe, that they can enjoy the scene but stay removed enough not to fall into the rabbit hole of BDSM. If they’re with the right person, there won’t be any stopping the fall.
So why would someone use a safeword? They’re scared. Overwhelmed. In pain. Notice I put pain last. That wasn’t an oversight. Pain can heighten a scene. It’s a way for a Dom to hyper-focus their submissive on a certain part of their body. It can aid a submissive in switching off their brain, allowing them to feel each and every touch as if it would be their last.
Something a lot more of us could benefit from.
That connection.
BDSM allows you to sink below the surface of vanilla into flavor after flavor of naughty excitement meant to curl your toes and steal your voice.
I want my submissive characters to be strong, vivacious, intelligent people able to stand toe-to-toe with their Doms everywhere including the bedroom.
Tied to a whipping bench, strapped to a table, or even suspended from a steel a-frame using nothing more than 6mm silk rope. In all of these scenarios the sub still has the power.
The minute their safeword enters the room everything is over.
What I love about erotic BDSM romance is the physical, emotional and sometimes spiritual connection the characters have. It’s that connection during sex that sets my heart racing. Trusting their Dom that they know what they crave even if they don’t think they’re strong enough to endure.
What is the ultimate power exchange?
Having a safeword…and not using it.
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
Amazon | Ellora’s Cave | Barnes and Noble
“So, Cyn, why aren’t you fucking anybody?”
I sucked a mouthful of beer down the wrong pipe, sputtered and coughed my way through it and nearly knocked over the glass bottle as I got it under control. The beer anyway. After wheezing through another breath, I moved my drink aside. The last thing I needed was a wet spot in my lap. “Where in the hell did that come from?”
Jared Kennedy, one of my best friends, glanced at my fingers as I worried a heart charm at the bottom of a silver chain. A knowing smirk tilted his lips when he glanced up again. “Come on. Nobody creaming your Twinkie at the moment or do you not like sex in general? We want to know. So don’t be shy, spit it out.”
The other half of the “we” he referred to was his fraternal twin Chris, who watched us across an empty dance floor and from behind their bar thirty feet away. Still anxiously working the pendant back and forth, I turned once more to Jared.
He leaned against his chair, forearms crossed over his broad chest, an expectant smile revealing bright-white teeth. The brothers had always done that. Known the right expression to make so I would answer anything. They acted broody or impatient and I’d give anything to make them happy. Pathetic—my middle name when it came to these two.
“I like it, J. As much as anybody does, I guess. Whether I like it to the same extent you and Chris do, I don’t know. Your appetites have always run on the high side according to the gossipmongers in town.” I squirmed in my seat. I admit it. One of my best friends was asking me if I liked sex and all I could think was…meh. My sex life…well, visualize the Titanic sinking and you get the gist. Most guys don’t appreciate being called another guy’s name—or two guys’ names—when you’re getting off. It’s a real deal breaker.
“Uh huh. It’s Saturday night and you’re here, like last night and the night before. Guys hit on you but you blow ’em off. You work at the gym all day and help out here anytime we ask. CJ’s has gotten damn busy and we dig the help but you’ve been restless lately and we’ve both noticed. What gives?”
Getting to work at the bar with both of them on a weekend was rare. One of them was normally MIA. But tonight? From the moment I stepped foot inside they were watching me. Shivers of awareness raced over my skin but I was too chicken to actually do anything about it. A blush slithered its way up my bare shoulders, crawled all over my failing willpower and flipped on a big neon sign above my head, flashing “Not Gettin’ Any”.
Jared and Chris knowing that my social calendar was on par with reservations at a leper colony just plain sucked. The three of us had been close for years but this was way beyond what my heart—and several other tingly parts—could handle.
“You’re hot. You haven’t been with anyone since Matt.”
Mild panic settled in the pit of my stomach because Jared wasn’t going to drop it. Thankfully my beer sat well out of reach.
“Not that it’s any of your business but who’s to say I’m not having sex every night and twice on Sundays?” I cocked a blonde eyebrow in his direction with a little sultry thrown in, with what I hoped was a sassy twist of my lips. That sass faded into scared rabbit when he gave me that look again. Same one he’d been giving me all night long. The one I’d seen for years and hated because it was never directed at me.
It was Jared on the make. My adrenal gland kicked into high gear. I was a little bit thrilled and a whole lot terrified.
He was always the comedian. He’d played pranks on me any chance he could but this was no joke.
His gaze remained locked on me and his blue eyes, shadowed by thick lashes, taunted me with sexual promise. Female residents of our fair city of Arcadia had spent years fantasizing over his tanned skin and muscled frame. Right at the height of my ogling, he speared long fingers through his blond, sun-streaked hair. It wasn’t long enough to negate any of his rugged appeal but it was far from the military cut he’d worn for years. Currently, it was perfect to hold on to for a nice long ride.
As his hair fell across his brow, he leaned onto the table to grab his beer. He grazed my arm on the way and I locked my muscles up good and tight to suppress another shiver. My reaction to them? Spontaneous combustion.
But tonight was different. Tonight they’d noticed how I responded to them. They’d thrown logs on the smoldering fire every chance they got. Touching me, teasing me. Staring at me as if they knew how wet I was. For them. Only them.
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/
Bio -
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.
July 14, 2013
Guest Blogger: Sydney Jane Baily (Contest!)
First, I just want to thank Delilah for having me on her blog. I went to the RT Booklover’s Convention in May in Kansas City. Not only did I get to hear Delilah present on a panel, I got to eat some great BBQ.
My first three historical romances are about people in the 1880s. It just sort of happened that way. When I started writing, I didn’t find modern times to be all that romantic (I’ve changed my mind since then). However, in choosing a historical setting, I wanted a time period when folks were modern enough that I could identify with them, while getting to dress my characters in lovely and dashing clothing. Corsets, stockings, and waistcoats, oh my!
Then, I got to know Americans in the second half of the nineteenth century. Let me tell you, they were as nutty as peanut brittle, despite masquerading as genteel, thoughtful, refined Victorians. Their ideas on medicine and health would be funny if some of them hadn’t been so harmful. OK, they’re funny anyway. Let’s start with the truly clueless.
You’ve probably all heard about “female hysterics” and the weekly “pelvic massages” that doctors gave their patients. Haven’t you? Step right up and let the good doctor charge your husband his hard-earned money to bring you to hysterical paroxysm (orgasm). Dr. Swift in California made convenient home visits, rather than making suffering ladies take a trip to the office :
((This work has been identified as being free of known restrictions under copyright law, including all related and neighboring rights. Published in the US before 1923 and public domain in the US.)
For this affliction—classified by too many symptoms to note here—women could also be put away in a mental asylum against their will by well-meaning family members. I’d take the pelvic massages over the asylum. In 1883, British Dr. Granville developed the “perceteur” or mechanical vibrator, and the rest, as they say, is history.
For something more serious, take a look at these incredibly effective drops for instantly curing toothache:
(This work has been identified as being free of known restrictions under copyright law, including all related and neighboring rights. Published in the US before 1923 and public domain in the US.)
I bet people started having toothaches quite often and decided to skip a trip to the dentist in favor of a trip to the drug store, or “druggist.” Speaking of which, Bayer had a Heroin brand of cough medicine, containing diacetylmorphine as suppressant. By the turn of the century, Bayer was producing a ton of heroin per year, as well as a ton of heroin addicts. Those crazy fun nineteenth-century people!
(Public domain image)
Mrs. Winslow was purportedly somehow in the medical profession when she created her Soothing Syrup, good for animals and people. Good for what, I’m not sure, as it contained morphine and ammonia (which we now commonly use as a cleaning agent), among other delicious ingredients. For decades, moms gave it to their babies to soothe colic and teething. By 1911, in the U.S., the AMA labeled Mrs. Winslow’s syrup as a baby killer, not a soother. Pity because the scene in one advertisement sure looks all “Norman Rockwell” with the mom and kids in bed reading together. You can find the ad image all over the Internet by searching for Mrs. Winslow’s syrup; it’s owned by the National Library of Medicine/Science Photo Library, but here’s an image of a surviving bottle:
Someone had fun licking the opiate out of that bottle.
Anyway, I love these people. The late nineteenth-century was a time of great invention, along with, as you can tell, a lot of quackery. While they were busy drugging each other, they also created typewriters, telephones, and cross-country trains, all featured in my books, An Improper Situation, An Irresistible Temptation, and the third story that is still stuck in my PC at 55,000 words. We’ll leave a discussion of the benefits of lobotomies and tobacco smoke, along with the interesting uses of electricity (“Ow,” said the man with the electric belt strapped to his, um, privates) until next time.
It’s been great visiting with you. Please stop by my site to learn more about my other books and a bit of history at http://www.sydneyjanebaily.com.
Cheers,
Sydney
An Improper Situation by Sydney Jane Baily
Charlotte should be the catch of Spring City, CO. But she cloaks her identity behind her male pen name. She won’t risk heartbreak, then a stranger arrives. Boston lawyer Reed Malloy has a mission—deliver two orphaned children to their cousin. He’s not prepared for Charlotte’s irresistibility, or her flat-out refusal to raise her kin. Sinister forces and scorned women conspire to keep them apart.
It’s available in print and ebook from Amazon, and in digital form everywhere else ebooks are sold.
Please leave a comment to win an ebook copy of An Improper Situation in the format of your choice.
Guest Blogger: Sydny Jane Baily (Contest!)
First, I just want to thank Delilah for having me on her blog. I went to the RT Booklover’s Convention in May in Kansas City. Not only did I get to hear Delilah present on a panel, I got to eat some great BBQ.
My first three historical romances are about people in the 1880s. It just sort of happened that way. When I started writing, I didn’t find modern times to be all that romantic (I’ve changed my mind since then). However, in choosing a historical setting, I wanted a time period when folks were modern enough that I could identify with them, while getting to dress my characters in lovely and dashing clothing. Corsets, stockings, and waistcoats, oh my!
Then, I got to know Americans in the second half of the nineteenth century. Let me tell you, they were as nutty as peanut brittle, despite masquerading as genteel, thoughtful, refined Victorians. Their ideas on medicine and health would be funny if some of them hadn’t been so harmful. OK, they’re funny anyway. Let’s start with the truly clueless.
You’ve probably all heard about “female hysterics” and the weekly “pelvic massages” that doctors gave their patients. Haven’t you? Step right up and let the good doctor charge your husband his hard-earned money to bring you to hysterical paroxysm (orgasm). Dr. Swift in California made convenient home visits, rather than making suffering ladies take a trip to the office :
((This work has been identified as being free of known restrictions under copyright law, including all related and neighboring rights. Published in the US before 1923 and public domain in the US.)
For this affliction—classified by too many symptoms to note here—women could also be put away in a mental asylum against their will by well-meaning family members. I’d take the pelvic massages over the asylum. In 1883, British Dr. Granville developed the “perceteur” or mechanical vibrator, and the rest, as they say, is history.
For something more serious, take a look at these incredibly effective drops for instantly curing toothache:
(This work has been identified as being free of known restrictions under copyright law, including all related and neighboring rights. Published in the US before 1923 and public domain in the US.)
I bet people started having toothaches quite often and decided to skip a trip to the dentist in favor of a trip to the drug store, or “druggist.” Speaking of which, Bayer had a Heroin brand of cough medicine, containing diacetylmorphine as suppressant. By the turn of the century, Bayer was producing a ton of heroin per year, as well as a ton of heroin addicts. Those crazy fun nineteenth-century people!
(Public domain image)
Mrs. Winslow was purportedly somehow in the medical profession when she created her Soothing Syrup, good for animals and people. Good for what, I’m not sure, as it contained morphine and ammonia (which we now commonly use as a cleaning agent), among other delicious ingredients. For decades, moms gave it to their babies to soothe colic and teething. By 1911, in the U.S., the AMA labeled Mrs. Winslow’s syrup as a baby killer, not a soother. Pity because the scene in one advertisement sure looks all “Norman Rockwell” with the mom and kids in bed reading together. You can find the ad image all over the Internet by searching for Mrs. Winslow’s syrup; it’s owned by the National Library of Medicine/Science Photo Library, but here’s an image of a surviving bottle:
Someone had fun licking the opiate out of that bottle.
Anyway, I love these people. The late nineteenth-century was a time of great invention, along with, as you can tell, a lot of quackery. While they were busy drugging each other, they also created typewriters, telephones, and cross-country trains, all featured in my books, An Improper Situation, An Irresistible Temptation, and the third story that is still stuck in my PC at 55,000 words. We’ll leave a discussion of the benefits of lobotomies and tobacco smoke, along with the interesting uses of electricity (“Ow,” said the man with the electric belt strapped to his, um, privates) until next time.
It’s been great visiting with you. Please stop by my site to learn more about my other books and a bit of history at http://www.sydneyjanebaily.com.
Cheers,
Sydney
An Improper Situation by Sydney Jane Baily
Charlotte should be the catch of Spring City, CO. But she cloaks her identity behind her male pen name. She won’t risk heartbreak, then a stranger arrives. Boston lawyer Reed Malloy has a mission—deliver two orphaned children to their cousin. He’s not prepared for Charlotte’s irresistibility, or her flat-out refusal to raise her kin. Sinister forces and scorned women conspire to keep them apart.
It’s available in print and ebook from Amazon, and in digital form everywhere else ebooks are sold.
Please leave a comment to win an ebook copy of An Improper Situation in the format of your choice.
