Delilah Devlin's Blog, page 448

Snippet Saturday: Big City

Today’s theme is life in a big city. Memphis is the closest big city to me. I can’t count Little Rock, because it’s more of a sprawling big town than city, at least to me. You get a glimpse of Memphis, the seedier side, in the first chapter of Lost Souls. I posted a couple of the first reviews right at the top. If you’ve been wavering, wondering if the story was for you, see what other folks are saying. It’s a good, emotional, exciting read, even if I do say so myself!

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

a $5 Amazon gift certificate!

“A sexy, fast-paced story of love, redemption, and one scary-as-hell demon. Lost Souls dares you to put it down (you’ll lose) as it nimbly walks the line between heart-pounding romance and paranormal thriller. Cait has fast become one of my favorite heroines as she learns to use her powers, fights her all-too-human weaknesses, and learns the gut-wrenching truth that sometimes, to save someone you love, the cost doesn’t matter.” —Susannah Sandlin, author of the Penton Vampire Legacy trilogy

“Ms. Devlin yet again, delivered a good balance of romance, nail-biting scenes and an exhilarating story line. But what had me captivated was the emotional aspects of this novel…Shattered Souls was exhilarating in its storyline, Lost Souls’ strength was in its gut-wrenching and heart piercing events…Nothing but praises for this book, simply a job well done.” —Under The Covers, 5 Feathers/Top Pick

Fan favorite Delilah Devlin delivers her second paranormal romantic thriller featuring unforgettable heroine, Caitlyn O’Connell. This time, the psychic PI joins her police detective ex-husband to find a demon pulling women into the past to commit their murders in a seedy Memphis hotel.

Private Investigator Caitlyn O’Connell is tapped by Memphis PD to discover who has been using a Memphis hotel as his killing ground. Women are going missing, and their bodies are found inside the walls of the hotel. But the bodies themselves? They appear to have been murdered in the distant past. With ghosthunters and cops crawling all over the crime scene, Cait and her detective ex-husband Sam Pierce race to find the demon responsible before he kills again.

Darkness sank as murky as the sultry summer air, as heavy as a blanket pulled over a child’s head to hide the monsters lurking in a shadowy closet. Street lamps popped and sizzled, darkening then lightening, but failing to flare bright enough or long enough to chase away deep pockets of inky black. Cait was creeped out, since all she had were glimpses of silvery light from a full moon rimming buildings and casting deeper shadows to cloak alleyways and doorway stoops.

Another full moon. An event she was acutely aware encouraged monsters, both human and supernatural, to come out and play. Edgy and beyond bored, she almost wished for something out of the ordinary to happen, but then quickly changed her mind. The last time her job had given her a real challenge she’d battled a demon in an attic while a wraith latched its freezing fingertips around the man sitting beside her, slapping him around like a rag doll.

For just a second, she relished that last memory. At least Jason had been awake.

For the umpteen thousandth time that night, Caitlyn O’Connell sighed. This time exaggerating the sound. Loudly. Actually, more of a groan than a sigh. A sound that invited Jason Crawford, lying back in the seat beside hers, to wake up and keep her company. She was bored as freaking shit. Surveillance was the one part of her job she truly hated. In fact, she thought she might like having her ingrown toenails cut better than sitting in a dark alley waiting for something to happen.

The weather irritated her even more. Although she’d stripped down to a tank top and jeans, the insides of her boots were damp from the oppressive summer heat. Not a trace of a breeze stirred, and they’d shut off the sedan’s engine to be able to hear vehicles approaching, so the AC sat silent.

What good was having magic if she couldn’t even muster up a spell to start a breeze? She’d tried waving, punching, wiggling her nose, but nada. Worse, she’d tried to come up with a poem to appease The Powers That Be, but hadn’t found a line that sounded even remotely elegant with “wheeze” tacked on the end.

She supposed she’d used up her last favor asking for intervention with Worthen’s monstrosity, the Civil War–era demon resurrected in his tomb, for which she’d had to beg The Powers and a certain sorcerer for help defeating. Or perhaps they didn’t like how she’d ignored Morin since she’d fought the demon and won. Whatever. She was a PI, not a witch. And right now, she had a job to do.

So why couldn’t she and Jason be watching the Peabody Hotel? Or any of the nicer hotels in the downtown area? The Deluxe Hotel was anything but deluxe. The marquee above the entrance was missing a few letters and read, DELUXE HO, which on second thought appeared apropos for the sleazy dive.

The whole area had an aura of neglect. Trash overfilled bins and cluttered the gutters. Worse, a small tattered sign was taped to the hotel’s glass door: AA MEETING, 9 PM SATURDAY.

Mocking her. The very thing her ex-husband, and now sometimes boyfriend, had been nagging her to locate.

And worse yet, the car she sat in reeked of stale onion-and-anchovy pizza. If she didn’t know him better, she might have thought her partner had ordered it on purpose. But he’d munched away happily, while she’d chosen to drag in the scents from the overfilled bin they’d parked beside. Better unknown trash than fishy-smelling onion breath.

Her cheeks billowed around another harsh exhalation. How the hell could Jason sleep through all the noise she’d been making? She aimed a scowl his way, caught the quick lowering of his eyelids and a twitch at the side of his lips. She gave a grunt and turned back to watch the entrance of the seedy old hotel where Mrs. Oscar Reyes was scheduled to meet up with her boy-toy. Or so Mr. Reyes had informed them this morning after hacking into his wife’s Facebook account.

“Get me pictures of the bitch,” he’d said, clearing his throat when Cait had given him a narrow-eyed glare. “I won’ believe it ’til I see.”

She’d eyed his oily hair, brushy mustache, and stocky frame and wondered why he was so surprised his wife had sought the attention of a lover who called her his “mariposa rubia.”

“Blonde butterfly,” Jason had translated under his breath since Cait’s Spanish was limited to curses.

Oscar Reyes was the typical slimy client they attracted—spouses seeking ammunition for divorce court, employers wanting an employee followed for proof they hadn’t been injured badly enough to warrant workmen’s comp.

Since Oscar had already done the legwork and found cyberproof of his wife’s infidelity, Cait wondered why the hell he’d hired them to snap the shots. A $500 retainer plus their hourly fee would rack up quite a bill in no time. But she’d refrained from asking him.

The nice fat check they’d gotten from the Memphis PD for helping find her first partner’s killer and three young women who’d been kidnapped by a demon hadn’t lasted long. So she and Jason were back hustling for smaller fish. Which reminded her again of the half-eaten pizza in the backseat.

Ready to pitch the box into the trash bin, she paused when headlights flared as a car turned onto South Front Street. A low-slung sedan stopped in front of the hotel.

Cait waited for the beams to extinguish, and then raised her camera with its night-vision lens and took a look. Just as Oscar had predicted, Sylvia Reyes stepped out of the car, her bleached-blonde hair neon bright in the viewfinder. She wore an ass-hugging mini-skirt, four-inch heels, and a top that rode the curves of her full breasts.

Cait clicked off a couple of shots of the woman entering the hotel, then reached out and backhanded Jason’s belly. “Time to move.”

“Mmm, wha’?” he said, pretending to waken from a deep sleep.

She rolled her eyes. “Like you’ve been sleeping? It’s Reyes’s wife. Let’s see if we can catch her with her boyfriend.”

“Sound grumpy.” Jason flashed her a smile. “The anchovies gettin’ to you?”

She shrugged, pretending the stench hadn’t made her slightly nauseous. “It’s your car. The smell’ll be here for a week.”

With quiet moves, they opened their doors. Cait quickly replaced the special lens and hung the camera on her shoulder before jogging to the entrance. She pushed through the grimy glass, lifted her head in a vague nod to the clerk at the reception desk, and walked to the elevators, eying the red digital numbers above the doors. There were two elevators. Only one was moving, and it stopped and held at floor three.

She elbowed past two men and a woman laden with cameras and equipment bags. One held out a device Cait thought might be a light meter, but she changed her mind when a red light beeped on the top and it clicked like a Geiger counter.

“Do you see that?” the chubby man with a Fu Manchu said, elbowing the skinny dude beside him. “We’ve got something here.”

“Told you there’s lots of activity in this old place.”

Activity? She eyed them again, read the logo on their bags, and rolled her eyes. REEL PIS: PARANORMAL INVESTIGATORS. As if. She stuck her finger in the elevator button, doing her best to ignore the morons. She hadn’t heard so much as a whisper or a wail since she’d entered the hotel.

“Faster goin’ up the stairs,” Jason said, pulling her arm with one hand and pointing toward the stairway door. He flipped the door handle and pushed through. “After you,” he said with a flourish of his hand. His grin said he knew how much she disliked racing up three flights.

She gave him the stink-eye and started the climb. When she reached the third-floor landing, she glanced through the door’s rectangular window, saw no one in the hallway, and opened the door.

The corridor smelled as bad as it looked—urine to complement the yellowed beige walls, mildew to enhance the brown-and-green plaid carpet.

Gasping to catch her breath, she looked left, then right, and caught a flash of impossibly blonde hair a moment before Sylvia Reyes turned the corner farther down the hallway. Cait hurried after her, on the scent of a woman about to cheat on her husband. She turned the corner, entering a hallway marked by a door frame for a double door that no longer existed. The corridor was empty. No room doors along the short hall closed to indicate where their target had gone.

Jason drew up beside her, his eyebrows rising. “What now? Listen for moaning?”

Giving him a shove, she took a step past the hallway door frame, and then halted, some instinct keeping her from pushing forward. Or maybe what stopped her was the yellow police tape covering one of the doors. Not something she had time to ponder right that moment because a strange hum sounded. A bulb popped, plunging the hallway into darkness. The hairs on her arms lifted a second before electricity arced from a light switch, sending out a bolt like lightning that shot toward the ceiling, then turned, traveling toward her, hitting doorways as though searching for ground. The jagged dagger of electricity darted, then blinked out, but not before she saw a figure, one in four-inch hot pink heels, her eyes rounding in terror—a figure she could see straight through to the piss-yellow wall behind her.

Darkness took the figure. Then another hissing arc flared from the light switch, brightening the hallway again. Sylvia Reyes was gone.

Jason grabbed her arm, pulled her back around the corner, and flattened her against the wall with an elbow digging into her belly.

The white bolt flickered past the corner, then dove to the floor, sparking out with a fizzle.

“Bad wiring?” he whispered.

She shook her head, shoved away his elbow, and stepped into the hall again. The faint smell of something burning lingered in the air. The hall was once again empty. And dark.

Cait held still, listening, and then she heard the sound. A soft wail. Like a distant echo. “Hear that?” she whispered.

“No. What do you hear?”

She swallowed. “Not anyone living.”

Then the faint sound of whispers rose, maybe half a dozen voices joining in chorus. Her hand dropped to the camera at her side. She flipped off the lens cap, raised the camera, and looked through the viewfinder. Nothing out of the ordinary, other than a really sleazy flophouse. Still, she clicked off a couple of shots. “Let’s go.”

“Don’t want to wait around until she leaves? A shot of the lady kissing her boyfriend good-bye would close this case.” Cait shook her head, not wanting to voice what she suspected. Not before she was sure of exactly what she’d seen. “No. Let’s get back to the office. I have to look at something.”

Jason knew her well enough not to ask any more questions. The fact she was cutting the surveillance short told him they had a problem.

This time they took the elevator. The sooner she got out of here the better. Well, she’d gotten what she’d wished for. Something out of the ordinary had definitely happened.

Back at the Delta Detective Agency, Cait slipped the memory card from her camera into the slot in her computer. With a couple of clicks, she found the file of pictures and opened it.

There was Sylvia Reyes outside the Deluxe, her small cat-like features coated in too much makeup, her coarse blonde hair flattened to rest limply on her shoulders. Her expression was furtive, but excitement sparkled in her dark eyes. Another shot caught her too-tight skirt hugging her J-Lo butt. Then Cait clicked on the last two shots, unsure what she might see inside the third-floor hallway. Maybe nothing. Maybe something she didn’t want to see.

The shot showed an empty hallway. The photo was blurred, but the differences between the hall’s actual appearance and what was on the computer screen was startling. Gone were the yellowed walls and crappy brown and green carpet. In its place was wallpaper—a foiled gold-and-wine-colored paisley. The carpet was a solid blood red. The fixtures—lights, switches, brass plates on the door—were shiny and new.

“Where’d you take that?” Jason asked, hovering at her shoulder.

“At the Deluxe,” she said, closing out the file. She suppressed a shiver of dread.

“No kiddin’? How come I didn’t see that?”

She didn’t dare look his way. He’d see her shock and ask more questions. Questions she didn’t have any quick answers for.

“Tacky as hell, but—”

She gave a sharp shake of her head. “That’s not the way it is.” At last, she shot an upward glance.

Jason pushed out his lips. His gaze settled on her, waiting.

She knew he wouldn’t let her up from the chair until she gave him at least a clue of what was going on in her head. “It’s the way the hotel was.”

His gaze narrowed. “What do you mean?”

She rubbed a hand over her face. “I don’t know what I mean.”

A frown dug a line between his blond-brown brows. “I don’t think Reyes is going to pay us for those shots or our time since we didn’t get what he wanted.”

“Reyes is the least of our problems,” she muttered.

Jason groaned. “It was the anchovies, right? This is your revenge?”

Her mouth tipped up into a smirk. “You think this is all about you? Poor little rich boy.”

He shook his head, grinning, but the fine lines beside his hazel eyes deepened with worry. “Since this case looks like major woo-woo is involved, you have the lead. Where to first?”

Cait grimaced. Once again, she had no doubt they were headed straight down the rabbit’s hole. “I need to talk to Sam about that taped-off room.”

* * * * *

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

Guest Blogger: Emma Jay

Like any writer, I love to read. I was a reader way before I was a writer, but I didn’t come to romance until I was out of college. And then I couldn’t get enough. I started with historicals, buying them at the grocery store and Target and Walmart. Then I discovered used book stores and started stockpiling books. I ALWAYS had bags of books to trade in, and by the time the store closed, I had credit like crazy.

Then I discovered Paperback Swap, a website where you can request books, in exchange for sending off books of your own. There were wrappers to print, and I probably spent a billionty dollars in stamps and the mailman hated me because I was always sending or receiving books (and my mailman has to walk!)

Next I discovered Amazon and its one-click evil. Now the UPS guy hated me, but I was able to preorder the books I wanted.

And then I got my first iPhone. I was so excited because even though I was an ebook author, I didn’t have a way to read ebooks! Now I could order Kindle books or Nook books. I discovered Fictionwise and its wonderful, wonderful discounts. I still have books from them that I haven’t read, lol!

But one of the joys I found with ebooks was novellas! My grandmother would always get  those collections, you know, the anthologies that come out at Christmas? That seemed to be the only time you could get novellas in print form. One author–I think it was Julie Garwood?–released 4 tiny print books, then a novel. They made a movie about the series. Brothers and an adopted sister. Anyone remember that?

ANYWAY, back to novellas. I LOVED reading novellas. Most of the time they just focus on the romance, which is, after all, while I read romance. I mean, I love a meaty historical, and a twisty romantic suspense (not too gritty, please), but sometimes I just want a quick happy ending.

I love writing novellas for the same reason—I focus on the romance and can get my characters to a happy ending all the faster.

I’m writing a series now about a group of hot shot firefighters, starting with the by-the-book crew chief who falls for a rookie on his crew in All on the Line, available at Amazon  and BN.com.

Jaci Nichols thinks nothing can make her feel as alive as fighting wildfires–man against nature, standing up to danger every day.

Until her crew chief, Cal Sinclair, kisses her after a close call on the fire line.

Wow.

Now she’s craving more, but he wants to keep his distance.

Cal Sinclair doesn’t want to screw up his first year as crew chief, so he keeps his distance from the members of his hot shot crew. Hard to do when the sexy rookie gets under his skin. Something about her draws him, and makes him want to put it All on the Line.

The second book came out the weekend the Granite Mountain Hotshots died. Standing on the Line is also available, and Crossing the Line will be out this fall.

Do you like novellas, or do you prefer more meaty stories? What kind of novellas do you like to read?

Two Must Sees!

The power was out last night. A storm thundered through. The lights blinked out, but my UPS kept my PC going for another half hour. Eventually, I had to power off and join the rest of the unconnected world. The outage started at around 9 PM and didn’t end until 6:25 this morning. After which it popped on for about 5 minutes—long enough for me to surface and send a message that yes, I’m alive, before it winked out again. I spoke to soon.

I’m comfy again with the AC running. I don’t like to sweat for no good reason, so I’m grumpy today. I have tons of catchin’ up, but thought I’d pop in and tell you about two blogs you don’t want to miss today.

If you’re not following the Smokin’ Hot Firemen and High Octane Heroes blogs, you’re missing out!

Today on Smokin Hot Firemen, my sister Elle James is talking about smokejumpers and offering a very nice prize package to one lucky winner! All you have to do is drop by and comment!

At High Octane Heroes, Leah Ridgewood is talking about her beloved San Francisco—and giving away three books to EVERYONE! You know you don’t want to miss that! The least you can do is stop in and say Thank you, Leah!

Guest Blogger: Sabrina York

I couldn’t have been more excited when Delilah selected “Saving Charlotte” for inclusion in the Smokin Hot Firemen collection. And why? Not just because it was a great opportunity to write a hot story about firemen (although, let’s be honest—that was at the top of the list!). But I actually had to go and interview a fireman.

In person.

And yeah, he was in full uniform.

*Drool*

There is just something about a muscular man in suspenders…

It took me a while to think of an excuse to interview my smoking hot fireman, but I’m a creative person, so I pulled it off.

In my story “Saving Charlotte,” Mark Connor finds this gorgeous woman tied to a bed in a burning building. He needs to cut her free, and in a hurry.

My question for my hot fireman in suspenders was this: Do firemen have cutting tools on their belt, and are they issued by the fire department, or can they have their own.

His answer was awesome. They do, in fact, carry cutting tools, and they can bring in their own. He went on, at length, about the different kinds and why he preferred the one he had.

It was so much fun to listen, although, I must admit, I have no recollection of what he said.

I was too busy watching his lips move.

And drooling.

Excerpt from Sabrina York’s “Saving Charlotte”

Mark Conner fought his way through the smoke and flames to the third floor of the apartment building. A skitter of concern writhed in his gut. This fire was moving fast. Despite the nearly fifty pounds of equipment, he picked up the pace and motioned to Izzy to do the same.

According to the wailing mother on the street, there was a child still trapped up here.

Two doors flanked the top floor landing. Without discussion—they hardly needed it anymore—Izzy turned right and Mark turned left. In tandem, they kicked the doors in. Mark angled his flashlight and scanned the smoky living room. Nothing.

Smoke roiled around him; sweat prickled his brow. There wasn’t much time.

Then he heard a faint cry. He shouldered his way down the hall and into the bedroom…and froze.

A second was far too long to stare. Lives could be lost in a second. But the sight that greeted him nearly brought him to his knees. A sudden, inappropriate lust snarled through him. He forced it to the back of his mind. For later.

He’d expected a small child, coiled in a corner.

Not an exquisite angel bound to a bed.

And she was exquisite. Her skin was milky white and shimmered in the caress of his flashlight beam. She writhed and cried out and fought at the bonds holding her down. Her lush hair was a dark cloud against the pillow. And her face…it took his breath away.

Tears scored her cheeks. Panic limned her eyes. “Help me,” she said in a failing voice.

A loud pop brought him back to the moment. Yes, she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen—and he’d seen plenty of naked women tied to a bed—but if he didn’t get her out of here, she was going to die.

He rushed to her side and examined her bonds. He knew instinctively there was no time to untie her. Instead he reached for the cutting tool clipped to his belt and quickly slashed the rope at her wrists and ankles. He wrapped her in the blanket and tossed her over his shoulder.

He met Izzy on the landing; his buddy held a small bundle in his arms. They nodded to each other and pounded, hell for leather, down the stairs. The building was weakening. Mark recognized the sounds, the feel of it. They had seconds to escape, if that.

They made it out—burst through the door in a hail of fire and smoke—but only just. As they emerged out onto the street, the building collapsed behind them. A loud cry went up amongst the firefighters and they all snapped into action, training their hoses on the structure. It was a lost cause but they could save the neighboring homes.

Mark ignored the cacophony. He carried his precious burden across the barricaded street to the paramedics. Luke was busy fitting an old woman with an oxygen mask and Samuel was wrapping a burn. Gently, Mark lowered the woman from his shoulder. He arranged her on a brick planter, being careful to keep her nakedness covered.

He pulled off his helmet, mask and hood and unstrapped his SCBA gear, wiped the sweat from his brow. “A-are you alright?” Something clogged his throat. Probably his unholy reaction to her ethereal beauty.

Hell and damnation. She’d nearly just died. How could he think about fucking her?

His cock was thinking about it. It was hard and heavy and tight.

She nodded. A lone tear tracked its way down her sooty cheek.

He forced himself to look away from her delicate, sculpted features, the hollowed cheeks, the wide doe-like eyes. Trembling lips. Instead, he directed his attention to her wrists and began undoing the knots. He bit back a curse. Whoever had tied her up was an idiot. For one thing, rope was bound far too tight. Even if she hadn’t been fighting for her life to get free, it would have cut into her skin. As it was, her wrists were raw, slick with blood.

“You should have this tended.” He didn’t mean to sound so gruff. It galled him to see a woman abused like this.  He released her wrists and went to work on her ankles. It took a while, because the knots were an undisciplined mess.

Mark knew he was delaying the inevitable, avoiding the question he had to ask. He hated to embarrass her after all she’d been through, but duty was duty. Reluctantly, he met her gaze; it seared him. He cleared his throat. “Do I…would you like me to notify the police?”

Her eyes widened. Lips formed a silent “no”. She shook her head.

“You weren’t tied up against your will?”

Heat prickled his nerve endings when she lowered her lashes and shook her head.

Not against her will. Holy hell.

Mark glanced over his shoulder. The building was now a smoking relic. “Was he in the apartment?” He kind of hoped she’d say yes. She didn’t.

“No. He t-tied me up and left.”

Mark froze. His nostrils flared as outrage cut through him. What kind of Dom tied up a woman and left?

“He left you?”

“Yes.” Her voice was soft, sweet. Smoky. She studied her tender wrists for a moment then met his eyes. “He went to the bar for a drink with some friends. Said I was to ‘think about it’ while he was gone.”

What an ass.

Of course, no one would expect their house to catch fire while they were out gallivanting with friends, but leaving your trusting sub tied to the posters, exposed and vulnerable and completely alone was unconscionable.

“How long have you been with him?” He didn’t know why he asked. He was only torturing himself. She belonged to someone else.

“A year.” She swallowed. Mark watched her throat work. He knew a raging urge to taste it. Lick it. Suck on that soft, creamy flesh… “We’d never tried this before.”

Oh hell.

A dismal curtain fell on his soul. He’d assumed, from her lowered gaze, her posture, her submissive mien, that she was deep in the life, that she lived it, breathed it, craved it like he did. If this disastrous outing was her first taste of bondage, she would never try it again.

It was a pity, a damn shame he hadn’t found her first.

He pitched his voice low, so no one else would hear. “For the record, a loving Dom never leaves his woman unprotected.” He couldn’t resist cupping her cheek, thumbing away the fresh tears that welled at his words. Couldn’t resist a whispered, “He doesn’t deserve you.”

She said nothing at that, but he could tell she’d heard him. Her expression took on a glow, a peace and—dare he hope it—a tinge of relief.

Luke finished up with his patient and collected his bag to come over. Mark knew it was time to release her. He didn’t want to. He wanted to hold her forever. But she wasn’t his.

Still, he couldn’t resist leaning closer, capturing her gaze and murmuring, “If you ever want to try this with someone who knows what he’s doing, someone who will honor your desire, come to Station 12. Ask for Mark Connor.”

All About Sabrina York

Sabrina is an award-winning author of erotic romance with nearly a dozen titles available, ranging from sweet & sexy erotic romance to BDSM to erotic horror. Connect with her on twitter @sabrina_york or Facebook.

Check out Sabrina’s books and read an excerpt on her webpage (www.sabrinayork.com) or explore on Amazon or at Ellora’s Cave and for heaven’s sake, take a gander at these awesome reviews!

Other Books by Sabrina York

Adam’s Obsession (Erotic Contemporary, Ellora’s Cave)

Dark Fancy (Erotic Regency, Ellora’s Cave)

Extreme Couponing (Erotic Contemporary, Ellora’s Cave)

Five Alarm Fire (Erotic Contemporary for the High Octane Heroes Anthology, Cleis Press)—coming soon

Folly (Erotic Regency, Ellora’s Cave)

Lust Eternal (Erotic Fantasy, Ellora’s Cave) —coming soon

Pushing Her Buttons (Erotic Contemporary, Ellora’s Cave)

Making Over Maris (Erotic Contemporary, Ellora’s Cave) —coming soon

Man Hungry (Erotic Contemporary, Ellora’s Cave)

Rebound: A Tryst Island Erotic Romance (Erotic Contemporary, Available on Amazon)

Rising Green (Erotic Horror, Ellora’s Cave)

Saving Charlotte (Erotic Contemporary for the Smokin’ Hot Firemen Anthology, Cleis Press)

Training Tess (Erotic Contemporary, Ellora’s Cave)

Trickery (Erotic Contemporary with Magical Elements, Ellora’s Cave Hex Line)

Tristan’s Temptation (Erotic Contemporary, Ellora’s Cave)

Win Sabrina’s Tiara!

Sign up for the Royal Hotsheet (Sabrina’s Newsletter) to enter the tiara contest. Newsletter subscribers are eligible to win all coming contests as well as random giveaways.

Send an email with “Enter Me” in the subject line (this is erotica, after all) to sabrina@sabrinayork.com.

One entry per person.

Contest drawing date: June 30

Refer Your Friends Bonus Entries

Tell your friends about Sabrina York, Her Royal Hotness. If they sign up for Sabrina’s Hotsheet you earn another entry, plus a chance at a Referrals Only drawing for more bling. (NOTE: They must tell me that you referred them in the message box so I can give you credit).

Good luck!!!

The Artists Among Us!

A while back, I shared pictures of some of the things I’ve made, just to show you there’s more to my life than writing (I hear the hisses and boos! ). I asked folks to share their artistic passions too! Several of you responded so I’m sharing those pics today!

Ilona Fenton shared the following pictures. She loves crocheting toys and cross-stitching bookmarks.

I love Thor! I need one of these for my little Thor collection!

Ronnie shared a picture of this and had this to say:

“As an example of my cross-stitch stuff I have attached a piece I made for my husband’s powerchair. I stitched it onto the back of his headrest. Everyone loves seeing it. I also have one on the side of his seat that says ‘I Don’t Do Stairs!’”

She’s so talented at the cross-stitch, she makes her own patterns. Here’s one!

Kristen Jones crochets when she’s not looking after her little ones. She even does it for others through a Facebook swap shop and fan page!

This is one my daughter asked her to make for one of my Christmas presents! It’s glorious and of Ganesh! See the elephant at the center?

Melissa Porter sent in her friend’s creation and I can see why! I need one of those on my desk!

Author MJ Frederick has a crafty side as you can see here! She made most of these using transfers, and the t-shirt with the sprigs on it was something she used Elmer’s glue to draw, and then she died the tee green around it! Fantastic! You can check out her creations on Pinterest!

Ronnie Cornett has a very artistic side!

So that’s the wrap-up of the surprising talent we have out there. This is something I made this week. Loved the frog clinging to the top of the bead! (I didn’t make the bead, but that’s something I’ll learn to do some other day. LOL)

Thanks to everyone for sharing their pictures!

Guest Blogger: Lynn Cahoon

A star is born…

Return of the Fae, a contemporary paranormal romance, released this last week.  A witch out of water story. Parris McCall found out the things she actually thought made her weird growing up were actually her witch powers trying to break through the door she’d shut and locked so many years ago.

I had a lot of fun with this story because I’ve always felt different too. I was the girl who’d rather be in the library lost in a book than haunting the mall looking for the perfect makeup or perfume.  Not that I don’t enjoy playing dress up every once in a while.

Prudence, a witch who’s been banished by The Council, a total over-reaction to a situation involving a prince, some jewels, and a spell, shows up in this story. And boy, did the girl steal the scene. I’d thought she’d be a secondary character, one that told her story and gave Ty and Parris the information they were seeking, but now, she’s trying to get more time in the third book. And, I’m going to give it to her.

All because my husband is a Cincinnati Red’s fan.

Did I lose you? Probably. My mind runs in strange circles.  So let’s start at the beginning.

One Memorial Day, we were walking through Cincinnati waiting for the game to begin.  This was my first trip to the city and the Great American Ball Park. As we walked, I told my husband about the beginning thoughts about the plot of Return of the Fae.  I was stuck.  The advice from my husband?  Let it simmer. I think he was tired of listening to me complain.   But I took his advice and enjoyed the weekend, taking pictures as we wandered through A Taste of Cincinnati as well as the ball game.

Once we got home, I downloaded the pictures, and, found this —

And a character was born.

Return of the Fae –

A witch in training, a hunter on the prowl, and a world in jeopardy.

Learning the rules of being a witch takes years, but Parris McCall needs to master them in only weeks. Ty Wallace is going mad with his desire for Parris, but she’s a distraction in his quest to find Coven X before they take The Council and everyone he knows down.

The couple searches for Ty’s mentor, but he’s disappeared. Their only clue comes from a banished witch. When they return, not only are their own lives threatened, but a new life hangs in the balance.

Available at Amazon – http://www.amazon.com/Return-of-the-Fae-ebook/dp/B00DJVH8V6

Bio – Lynn Cahoon is a contemporary romance author with a love of hot, sexy men, real and imagined. Her alpha heroes range from rogue witch hunters, modern cowboys, or hot doctors, sexy in scrubs. And her heroines all have one thing in common, their strong need for independence. Or at least that’s what they think they want.  She blogs at her website www.lynncahoon.wordpress.com

Guest Blogger: Elle James (Contest)

Lucky Seven

If you believe in luck and 7 is your lucky number, today is your day! It’s the 7th day of the 7th month, and I’m feeling lucky!

I just signed a contract for my 37th, 38th and 39th books with Harlequin. I have wonderful parents, a husband who supports my writing career, three wonderful children and two grandsons. I’ve been to Paris this year, Ireland last year and more travel in the near future. And don’t let me forget to mention that I have a terrific sister, the fabulous DELILAH DEVLIN, who shares my passion for writing. What more could a girl ask for?

I’m also lucky because I have a new series starting this month with Harlequin Intrigue.

It’s the COVERT COWBOYS INC series.  First book out the chute is TRIGGERED.

                                                                     

TRIGGERED

July 2013

    

TAKING AIM

Aug 2013

    

BODYGUARD

UNDER FIRE

Sep 2013

   

COWBOY RESURRECTED

Oct 2013

 

TRIGGERED

To protect their future, a Texas bodyguard must revisit his past

After taking justice into his own hands, Austin police officer Ben Harding faces an unknown future. But a new job referral carries the possibility of salvation. His mission seems simple: protect a woman and her young daughter—recent residents of the Flying K Ranch who have become the target of threats.

When Ben meets Kate Langsdon, he is immediately struck by her beauty…and by the memories of the tragedies that touched his own family. Resolved not to become emotionally invested, Ben protects the pair as new dangers—and old ranch secrets—emerge. As enemies draw closer, can Ben keep this family alive long enough to explore a future with Kate?

Since I’m so lucky, I want to give you a chance to be lucky. Leave a comment on a happy lucky thing in your life for a chance to win the following prize:

Elle’s Bio:

Elle James spent twenty years in South Central Texas, ranching horses, cattle, goats, ostriches and emus. A former IT professional, retired Army and Air Force Reservist, she’s proud to be writing full-time, penning intrigues and paranormal adventures that keep her readers on the edge of their seats or laughing out loud. Now, living in northwest Arkansas, she’s given up wrangling cattle and exotic birds to wrangle her muses, a malti-poo and a yorkie. When she’s not at her computer, she’s traveling, out snow skiing, boating, or riding her four-wheeler, dreaming up new stories.

Social Media:

Website | Blog | Facebook | Twitter | GoodReads

Snippet Saturday: Life in a Small Town

Today’s theme is life in a small town. I’ve lived in a few of those. Sometimes, it’s nice knowing your neighbors, but sometimes, it’s a pain in the ass because everyone knows your business. Here, Jackson’s lucky everyone knows his…

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

a $5 Amazon gift certificate!

These cowboys ride hard…

There’s a reason Western romance novels never go out of fashion. The cowboy is an iconic figure embodying the dichotomy of the fiercely independent, earthy alpha male crossed with the male as a nurturer and protector. Cowboys take care of their women in every possible way. Wild and wayward women are gentled by the scent of horse and cow and the sight of sun-kissed skin, the feel of work-hardened thighs and arms, and the sound of a deep-voiced Texas drawl.

Contributors at the top of the Western romance genre, including Charlene Teglia, Randi Alexander, Cat Johnson, and editor, Delilah Devlin, have corralled strong and memorable characters ranging from ranch hands to cattle barons, to a rodeo star and a feisty female gunslinger. Traversing romantic settings from Montana, Texas, California, Mexico, and the Outback of Australia, the stories in Cowboy Lust are risky and risqué, full of studs in spurs hot enough to send you to a vacation on a dude ranch!

Jackson Lowry cussed softly when he spotted the blue lights spinning at the roadblock just ahead. Too late to turn back now. He’d only draw more attention.

Squaring his jaw, he rolled down his window and forced a polite smile as he peered into the darkness at the sheriff’s deputy checking IDs with a flashlight.

As soon as the deputy waved the car in front of him to move along and turned to watch the black pickup roll forward, Jackson’s tension eased a fraction.

Maynard Colby’s expression turned from crisply professional to worried in a second a soon as he recognized him. “Dammit, Jackson, where have you been?”

“Around. Why?”

A soft moan sounded beside him, and Jackson reached surreptitiously beside him to tap the tarp covering his precious load.

“You didn’t hear?” At Jackson’s vague expression, Maynard stepped onto the truck rail and leaned toward Jackson. “It’s Sammie Jo. Her car was found in Shooter’s parking lot, the door wide open. No one’s seen her. Looks like she’s been snatched.”

Jackson cleared his throat. “How serious is this gettin’?”

“It’s only been a couple of hours, but Sammi Jo’s daddy is buckin’ to get the sheriff to call in the FBI, the CIA, ATF—and whatever other agency his money can buy to find her. I tried callin’ you, but your phone kept goin’ to voice mail. After the way things went down at the weddin’ last Sunday, I don’t blame you a bit for layin’ low, but I thought you’d wanna know.”

Another sound, this time a snort, sounded beside him.

Maynard’s gaze cut to the dirty tarp folded over a moving bundle on the floor of the cab. A ruddy eyebrow shot up.

“What’s goin’ on, Jackson?”

Jackson rolled his eyes, then pulled up the corner of the tarp to reveal a bound and gagged Sammie Jo whose eyes glittered furiously back at both men.

Maynard barked a laugh, then tightened his lips. “This time you’ve gone and done it, boy. This is seriously fucked up.“ He laughed again, then tipped his hat to Sammi Jo. “No disrespect meant, missy.”

Jackson cleared his throat. “Don’t s’pose you can forget about this?”

Maynard’s gaze shot to Sammie Jo again, raked her once as though ensuring she didn’t look to be in any real danger, then tipped back his cowboy hat. “Tell ya what. I’ll put a bug in the sheriff’s ear, but she better come walkin’ through the po-lice house doors come Monday mornin’.”

“Not a word to her daddy?”

One corner of Maynard’s mouth crooked up. “Man’s already caused enough problems. Deserves to cool his heels a couple o’ days. Don’t do nothin’ I’ll have to arrest you for.”

With a nod, Jackson rolled up the window and pulled past the barricade. In his side mirror, he watched as Maynard crossed to the other deputy’s car and both men bent over laughing.

“See that, Sammi Jo?” he murmured, not expecting an answer because he’d made double-damn sure he’d tied some serious knots and gagged her pretty mouth. “I’m not the only one who thinks you need a good paddlin’.”

* * * * *

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

Guest Blogger: C.A. Szarek

So, the first time I told my husband my characters talk to me, he told me “They have meds for that.” I just had to giggle. Even though he’s my other half, he struggles to understand me as a writer. It’s difficult.

In my experience, that’s pretty common. No one else except another writer can understand fully.

But that’s all right. Because I can still share my stories with the world, whether people like them or not.

When people ask me how I decide what to write about, or how a particular story goes, it boils down to this: My characters tell me more often than I decide.

I am a pantser, which means I write by the seat of my pants. I don’t plot. I just sit down and write and hope the words flow. Sometimes, they do. Sometimes, I struggle. Sometimes, I think I know what’s going to happen, and then the characters throw me for a loop. Sometimes, I’m the writer and the story follows the lines I assumed they would. But so far, if I listen to them, they let me know what the story will be.

Promise I’m not crazy!

When I’ve tried to plot, I haven’t been all that successful. I made decisions and when the story changed, I didn’t deal with the change in my structure. It just stressed me out. So I had to convince myself the way I have been doing things, my process, isn’t wrong. That every writer is different. And that’s OKAY!

Whatever works to get the words on the page is the correct way.

I guess that’s what I would tell other writers: Don’t mess with what’s not broken.

You know how I said my characters talk to me? Well, sometimes they can be difficult. As in…they won’t/don’t SHUT UP! Or give me peace of any kind.

One in particular, Cole, the hero of Collision Force (Crossing Forces Book One) feels as if he should be the center of my universe. When I was writing the book, he haunted my dreams. One might think that’s helpful to a pantser like me, but he wouldn’t let me even think about anything else! I suppose it’s handy that he’s so hot. 6’4, black hair, gray eyes, and of course all the right muscles. Hehehe. He’s funny, too, which is always a plus.

But I figured I would get relief when I was done with the book. Not so much. I KEPT dreaming about him, and his heroine, Andi. The positive thing in all that is, I suppose that they gave me the idea for a very cute Christmas story!

When I moved on to start book two, Cole insisted he needed an “important” role in the book, so for all those who read CF and liked him, be assured you will see him in book 2.

I’ve always been a writer, but the road to publication has been an adventure. I’m so glad I get to share what’s in my head with readers!

Where to find C.A.:

Facebook | Website | Blog | Twitter: @caszarek

| Goodreads

Bio:

C.A. is originally from Ohio, but got to Texas as soon as she could. She is married and has a bachelor’s degree in Criminal Justice. She works with kids when she’s not writing. She’s always wanted to be a writer and is overjoyed to share her stories with the world.

Sword’s Call (King’s Riders Book One) is C.A.’s first book, and published by Gypsy Shadow Publishing. C.A. Collision Force (Crossing Forces Book 1), published by Total-E-Bound Publishing and was released June 28, 2013.

Buylink from TEB:

http://www.total-e-bound.com/product.asp?strParents=&CAT_ID=&P_ID=2180&utm_source=focusonfirststrategy&utm_medium=authorpromo&utm_campaign=collisionforce

Guest Bloggers: A. Catherine Noon & Rachel Wilder

Thank you to Delilah Devlin for inviting Rachel and I back for a guest post.  In keeping with the recent posts related to inspiration for novels and other creative projects, I thought I’d share the poem that inspired Rachel and I to write our series, Chicagoland Shifters.  Our newest release, TIGER TIGER, takes its title from the poem itself.

 

Tiger Tiger

by William Blake (1757-1827)

Tiger, tiger, burning bright

In the forests of the night,

What immortal hand or eye

Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies

Burnt the fire of thine eyes?

On what wings dare he aspire?

What the hand dare seize the fire?

And what shoulder and what art

Could twist the sinews of thy heart?

And when thy heart began to beat,

What dread hand and what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain?

In what furnace was thy brain?

What the anvil? What dread grasp

Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

When the stars threw down their spears,

And water’d heaven with their tears,

Did He smile His work to see?

Did He who made the lamb make thee?

Tiger, tiger, burning bright

In the forests of the night,

What immortal hand or eye

Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

From Bartleby.com, Great Books Online.

Website URL: http://www.bartleby.com/101/489.html, accessed 06/30/2013

While the poem is more a prayer to the Creator about who could make the lamb and the tiger, the peaceful and the fearsome, what inspired us is the idea that a shape-shifter is both man and animal.  The question we asked ourselves is, what if an animal empath were to encounter these shifted humans with an animal side?

We decided to explore the idea that fearsome warriors, modern-day soldiers in the American Marine Corps, were changed against their will into shape-shifters.  We used Siberian tigers, since they’re the largest tigers on the planet, and we only left a small portion of their unit alive.  They must stay together and guard each others’ backs against many threats – other humans who don’t know their secret as well as other shifter groups hostile to large predators in their territory. Our character, Doctor Sasha Soskoff, must make a place for himself within this tight-knit group as he discovers their secrets.

This month, we celebrate the release of TIGER TIGER from Samhain Publishing on July 23rd.  We hope you’ll come with us around the web as we hold our blog tour.  Join us at the Noon and Wilder blog to find the other stops on our tour.  Here’s a little taste of TIGER TIGER for you to whet your appetite.

Chicagoland Shifters, Book 2

Veterinary trauma surgeon and animal empath Sasha Soskoff has found everything he ever wanted with his new partners Neal, Steve and Carlos. Life feels as safe and secure as it can be among a group of ex-Marine tiger shifters. Until a homeless man is found, gruesomely mauled and murdered, near Neal’s BDSM club.

When it’s determined a rogue tiger did the deed, the jaguars’ accusing eyes turn toward Sasha’s lovers. The precarious balance of peace tips dangerously toward war.

Neal knows damned well none of his tigers committed the crime. Someone must be in Chicago without his knowledge or permission, and they’d better find him fast before uncertainty and conflict rip the tight-knit band apart from the inside.

As Sasha struggles to heal the stress fractures forming among his tiger family, he begins to wonder if his dreams of a home, and love, were too good to be true. And it’s precisely that moment the killer strikes at the heart of the tiger clan—Sasha himself.

Buy link: http://store.samhainpublishing.com/tiger-tiger-p-72887.html

Noon and Wilder Blog: http://taurusandtaurus.blogspot.com/

What’s your favorite shifter?  Are you a traditionalist, and like werewolves only, or are you adventurous and like the unusual and new?  (Just not penguin shifters, please oh please…)