Delilah Devlin's Blog, page 449
July 3, 2013
Guest Blogger: Cynthia Sax
Anna, the not-so-innocent-yet-virginal heroine of He Watches Me, is an unlikely exhibitionist.
Exhibitionism is the act or the thought of exposing in public or in a public place parts of our bodies that are normally concealed. Taking off our clothes and streaking across a college campus is exhibitionism. Flashing our breasts during Mardi Gras is exhibitionism. Participating in a scene at a BDSM club can be exhibitionism. Putting on a private strip tease for our lovers is exhibitionism. The stages of exhibitionism range from fantasy (yes, thinking of being tied to the mast of a pirate ship is exhibitionism) to criminal.
As with many exhibitionists, Anna starts her sexual exploration with mere fantasy. She thinks about being watched. She fantasizes about the office hunk watching her as she strips. She imagines being ravished in an elevator.
One scorching hot L.A. night, she spots the neighbor’s gorgeously cool swimming pool and impulsively acts upon her exhibitionistic tendencies. Anna hasn’t seen Blaine, her billionaire neighbor, in weeks. His mansion is dark, his backyard unused. Unable to resist temptation, she hops the fence, strips naked (she doesn’t own a swimsuit), and skinny dips, swimming au natural in Blaine’s pool.
She does this every night. Soon, Anna becomes more and more brazen, pleasuring herself in and out of the pool. Being naked while outside with the slim but very real possibility of being caught excites her. She imagines Blaine is watching her, his brilliant green eyes sparkling with appreciation.
She doesn’t know this isn’t pure fantasy. Blaine has been watching her through his security cameras. Now that he has returned to L.A., he plans to continue watching her… from his poolside seat. She shouldn’t allow him to watch her. She certainly shouldn’t like it.
There are safe, low risk ways to add the thrill of exhibitionism to relationships. We can perform strip teases in the privacy of bedrooms, have sex in our cars while they are parked in our garages, wear long skirts while going panty-free. No one has to know we’re exhibitionists… unless we want them to know, to watch.
Have you ever engaged in exhibitionism?
She desires to be seen. He wants to watch.
Anna Sampson has a naughty secret. Every night, she slips into her neighbor’s yard and swims naked in his pool. She fantasizes that the dynamic young billionaire watches her nightly nude aquatics, his brilliant green eyes gleaming with lust.
She discovers this isn’t pure fantasy. Gabriel Blaine has been watching her via his security cameras, and now that he has returned to L.A., he doesn’t plan to stop. That’s all he wants—to watch. Anna knows she shouldn’t allow him and she certainly shouldn’t want more, but she craves Blaine’s attention, needing his gaze fixed on her body.
Part One of The Seen Trilogy
Cynthia Sax
Author Website: http://cynthiasax.com/
Blog: http://tasteofcyn.com/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/cynthia.sax
Twitter: @CynthiaSax
July 2, 2013
A Question…
Just a quick FYI. The next installment of my serialized novel Crescent Moon, “The Scorpion’s Bite,” is scheduled to release sometime today! If you’re not already reading it, well, shame, shame… 
I finished the fourth episode of Crescent Moon yesterday, so I’m playing catch-up with the rest of my obligations. I don’t remember what it’s like to have “free time” and not feel guilty about it. Guess I shouldn’t complain since being this in demand was something I always dreamed about.
I’m going to keep it simple today. A question you can answer at your leisure. Just one of those day-dreamy, “what if?” questions…
~*~*~*~
What if you had two weeks vacation coming, limitless funds, and an itch
to take a whirlwind vacation?
What five countries would you choose to visit?
July 1, 2013
Jumping in with News about Two Upcoming Collections and a Contest!
Hey there! Since I have a chance to play on my own blog today, I thought I’d tell you about some free stuff you might want! Plus, I have two exciting collections ready to release, one right after the other, and filled with smokin’ hot, high-octane stories about the heroes we women love! Take a look!
Smokin’ Hot Firemen — July 16, 2013
If you are an Amazon. com customer, don’t pay attention to that official release date because this book is shipping right now!
Below are pictures of the front and back of trading cards I had created to celebrate the release of the new book. And if you’d like to read snippets from the stories inside this volume, follow the countdown celebration occurring right now on the Smokin’ Hot Firemen website! There you’ll find sexy snippets, personal stories about the inspirations for the authors’ stories, and prizes! We also have a Facebook page where we post pics of handsome firefighters and chat about her obsession with suspenders. 
If you’d like trading cards, email me directly at delilah@delilahdevlin.com!
High Octane Heroes — September 3, 2013
Again, don’t pay attention to that official date! Amazon tells me I’ll have my copy August 15th!
We’re getting geared up for the countdown over at the High Octane Heroes website. To entice you over there, we are giving away prizes. Be sure to check us out! Also, we have a brand new Facebook Fan Page for you to “Like!” Stay tuned for more fun happenings!
In the meantime, if you want trading cards, you know what to do…
Winner and a Brand New Contest!
The winner of June’s $20 Amazon gift card is…Melissa Keir (June 13)! I’ll be emailing Melissa shortly! Congrats!!
To make it simple, I’ll continue this contest for July…
What can you win? An Amazon gift card worth $20!
What do you have to do to win? Simple. Comment on my blog—on any posting, from now through July 31st! I’ll choose a winner at random from among all the comments. Good luck!
June 30, 2013
Guest Blogger: Layla Chase (Contest!)
Thanks for hosting me today, Delilah. Today I’m sharing a bit about the idea that started my story, Whirlwind. Several years ago I was living in San Antonio, and I saw a huge article in the newspaper on a national tattoo convention being held downtown in the Convention Center. I became intrigued by the idea of these artists who are normally situated in small shops, probably working with a specific clientele, all coming together in a large forum to display their artistic abilities. Like with other gatherings of professionals, there were instructional opportunities as well as chances to see lots of exquisite work. This was years before the television reality shows featuring such artists. About the same time, I’d visited a museum and saw photos of Native Americans with various tattoos. Those two components meshed and I had my heroine, Senna Whitefeather. Read further to learn a bit more about the erotic short story, Whirlwind.
Unveiling tattoos with a stranger has never been so dangerous…or so sexy.
Hosting her first booth at a national tattoo convention is nerve-racking enough for artist Senna Whitefeather. But then she runs into another Native American—one with a smoking hot and firm body—a man she soon realizes is following her. Appreciation for art takes on a new meaning when a challenge to unveil their tattoos escalates into a passionate encounter in the back of her booth. But will Senna’s brazen attitude of going after what she wants backfire?
Senna lifted the plastic badge, angled it toward the security guard then turned toward her designated booth. And bumped smack into a male—solid muscle from chest to knees—and she stumbled.
Firm hands grasped her upper arms and steadied her. “What’s your hurry?”
The deep voice rumbling near her ear resonated through her bones, kicking up her heart rate, and set her further off-balance. Both hands tangled with the supple cotton of his T-shirt and held tight. All she saw before her was a broad expanse of black cloth. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t looking—” She glanced up—straight into midnight black eyes that seemed to look deep into her soul. Her gaze clung for a long moment then she forced herself to blink.
The stranger smiled and the bronze-toned skin around his eyes crinkled. “Good thing I was, or we’d both have gone down.”
With a quick look, Senna registered the slash of his dark brows, high cheekbones, and long, black hair pulled back along his neck. Another Native American. Strong features balanced by an open smile. Why did she have the sudden urge to sway forward against his broad chest? A chest that appeared capable enough to harbor a woman tied in nervous knots over today’s exhibit.
Spirit of Life, she was late.
“Again, I’m sorry.” She stepped back, away from his broad hands and fought against acknowledging the immediate loss of warmth. No time for distractions, even tall, dark and sexy ones. “I’ve got to get to my booth.”
With a dip of his chin, he swept a hand in the direction she headed. “The right-of-way is yours.”
Senna hustled down the side aisle but couldn’t resist a quick backward glance over her shoulder. The tall stranger dressed all in black had disappeared into the crowd.
AMAZON: http://amzn.to/13sXmUu
B&N: http://bit.ly/19plihI
TWRP: http://bit.ly/11DBnaT
Those who leave a comment here will be included in a drawing for a dream catcher key chain. Be sure to include your email address. (US and Canada only)
BIO: On a dare from a close friend, Layla Chase challenged herself to explore the steamier side of romance and discovered all sorts of characters whose stories needed sharing. She writes contemporary and historical stories from her mountain home in California that she shares with long-time husband and two dogs.
For more information about future releases:
http://www.facebook.com/layla.chase.52
June 29, 2013
Saturday Snippet: Those Smokin’ Hot Firemen!
After not having a release out for a while to having 5 out in the space of a month… Crazy days, huh? I hope you’ve all got your copies of Lost Souls, and that you’re devouring it, and finding that one particular scene… I would love to hear what you thought about THAT!
In the meantime, this one’s not scheduled to release until mid-July, but Amazon informed me that it’s shipping on the 3rd! So I thought I’d better give you a little advanced warning! This one’s hot! Smokin’ Hot! And I’ve got a teeny excerpt here to prove it! :mrgreen:
If you post a comment today, you’ll be entered to win
a $5 Amazon gift certificate!
(I forgot to name last week’s Snippet winner, so I’m heading over to do that now!)
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…
I held my iPhone in front of me as far as my arm could reach and took a picture. Then I quickly sent it to my Facebook page. Yes! I don’t know how Syl managed to talk me into it, but I’m at HardCox!!! Happy Birthday, me!
I posted the photo, then slipped my phone back into my purse, which I’d placed beneath the small round table where Sylvia, Heather, and I sat next to the raised stage.
“You took a picture of yourself?” Sylvia giggled and held out her hand. “Give me that phone!”
“No way, you’ll just post pictures of the dancers’ asses.”
“And their hoses!”
My eyes bugged. “My mama would be horrified!”
I was already beyond mortified at being here—a male strip club, of all places. Syl didn’t have to add kerosene to the fire burning in my cheeks. But she’d had me at one name, “Johnny Blaze.”
So I had a thing for fire fighters. Or at least one in particular who didn’t even know I existed. The picture on the sandwich board outside the club—of a fireman wearing suspenders attached to the hose covering his privates—had been the deciding factor after I’d dug my heels into the concrete sidewalk. His body reminded me of my secret crush.
Syl knew all about my private addiction. She’d pointed to the board, then while my jaw slackened, whipped me through the entrance.
Now, she laughed and lifted her Mai Tai, eyes shining with devilment. “See anyone you’d like to take home?”
I eyed the dancer currently on the stage now—Davey Crockett—who wore a coonskin hat and a striped, bushy tail covering his parts while he did the helicopter much to the delight of the audience whooping and hollering all around us.
“Nope,” I said tightlipped. My own gaze followed that twirling tail, hypnotized. It have been forever since I’d seen a cock. To see one with a bushy tail was just bizarre.
I raised my voice to be heard over the loud rock music, “How long do we have to stay?”
Syl shook her head and raised a finger in the air to hail a beer-bitch with a tray of Jell-O shots. A blue cup landed on the table in front of me. Rather than fight Syl, I raised the drink and threw it back, gagging a little before gulping it down.
Alcohol never sat right with me. It made me hot. Something I didn’t need because my cheeks were already a fiery beet-red. Alcohol, added to the tanned, waxed, buff bodies gyrating so close that splatters of sweat already spotted my blouse, left me feeling completely out of my element. The only reason I was still sitting here was because I had to see “Johnny Blaze”, not that any stripper would match up to the man of my fantasies.
Davey Crockett raised his arms over his head and did a flip, landing near the edge of the stage, his beaver tail slapping his belly then his thighs.
I couldn’t help where my gaze landed because I wondered how much was furry sock and how much was his pleasure stick. Lord, the man was probably gay, anyway. I slid the napkin from under my drink and flapped it at my face.
The music stopped. A handsome man dressed in dark slacks and a black leather vest walked to the center of the stage. “Evening, ladies,” he said into the microphone he held.
The crowd shouted back, “Evening, Jason.”
The women knew the announcer by name? Good lord, they needed to get a life.
Then, “We have a birthday girl in the audience…” snagged my attention. The audience erupted in laughter and catcalls.
My eyes rounded. I shot a look at Syl. “Nooo….”
Syl smiled slyly back. “You’re only twenty-five once, cupcake.”
Two nearly nude men swished through the curtain at the back of the stage, one a bald dude wearing a biker’s bandana and leather chaps. The other a black man with a chest a bodybuilder would cry over.
Jason scanned the audience. “Where can she be?”
Syl and Heather bounced in their seats, arms flying, hands pointing toward me.
I hunched low, wondering if I could crawl beneath the table, because the two burly men were coming straight for me.
“Syl, I’m going to kill you,” I hissed.
Her smile was so broad I didn’t know how her face didn’t split in half. “You are going to thank me, baby girl. Just you wait.”
When both men flanked me, I stubbornly kept my gaze lowered, pretending I didn’t see them. But the black guy gripped my elbow and gently brought me to my feet. Then they both formed a chair with their arms and pushed the “seat” beneath me, nudging me hard enough my knees collapsed. As they swept me up, I gripped their arms, sure they’d drop me as they climbed the stairs to the stage.
I’m not a little girl. At five-foot-eight and nearing a hundred eighty pounds, I gave them a work out. Not that they seemed to strain. A chair had been brought to the center of the stage. They stood me in front of it. The biker pressed me into it with a hand on my shoulder.
Knowing I was going to have to go with it or look like a complete coward, I flopped into the chair and folded my arms across my chest.
Jason produced two large white squares and raised them over his head. The crowd began to chant. “Hoo-hoo-hoo!”
Not until he handed them to the biker and both men went on their knees did I understand. “Uh…why do I need knee pads?”
The biker flashed a brilliant smile. “To save your pretty knees, sweetheart.”
My eyebrows crept up. I wanted to ask, but I suspected his answer would send me dashing off the stage.
Biker boy slipped off my pump and smoothed a pad up my calf, fitting it to my knee. His buddy did the same, thankfully not at the same time or I’d have wound up flashing my crotch.
I was having serious misgivings about my outfit now—a shortish black skirt, that had seemed flirty but demure, and black short-sleeved button-down blouse. With the large silver hoops and thick silver cuff, I’d looked cute but casual, or so Syl had said when she’d scoured my closet for just the right outfit. Since our destination had been a secret up until we pulled into parking lot, I hadn’t given her choice of wardrobe another thought.
Now I wished I’d worn jeans, something to cover the length of white leg the men were still fondling. Biker dude stood, lifted me to my feet with a firm hand at my elbow, then marched me to the edge of the stage.
With Syl and Heather grinning like idiots, I knew he wasn’t just sending me to my chair. Behind me the curtain whooshed again. The crowd drove to their feet, whistles and shouts rising so loud I wanted to cover my ears. I didn’t dare look behind me.
“John-nee! John-nee! John-nee!”
My heart stuttered then burst into a wild tattoo. Heat burned my cheeks, but also began to pool between my legs. Funny how a little thing like a man with a hose can turn a girl’s insides all weepy.
Biker dude gripped my shoulders and forced me to turn.
Johnny Blaze stood, framed by the curtain, his fireman’s hat tipped low in front, the stage lights gleaming on the top and shadowing his features. His tanned chest and ripped abs were bare except for red suspenders—thankfully attached to yellow turnout pants. His large feet were encased by black boots. He raised a finger and curled it—twice.
I shook my head, glancing behind me to find the stairs, but gentle pressure on my shoulders forced me to my knees.
“Gotta crawl, Bridget,” biker dude drawled. “All the way on your knees.”
He knew my name? Kneeling, I cut him a quick glance. “I’m in a skirt.”
His smile gleamed white against his darkly tanned face. “I know. Sweet how that worked out.”
And because I knew I’d been set up, and that I couldn’t back away from the challenge now, I bent, pulled my skirt down in the back to cover my ass, and started to crawl on hands and knees toward the fireman who stood stock still, his hands fisted on his hips.
Lord, he looked so much like my inappropriate crush that what had been a trickle became a warm gush against my panties. I imagined it was him, that he had me in my bedroom, crawling toward him and his lovely baggy pants. The things I’d do…
Only the closer I drew, the deeper my suspicions grew.
His chest rose and fell too quickly—not something I’d expect from a guy who hadn’t yet danced his way around the stage. His expression was hidden, but the angle of his jaw, so rigid, so still, reminded me of the new fireman I’d been lusting after for weeks.
The reception desk at the library faced the front door, which had wide glass panels looking onto the main street and the fire station on the other side. I’d spent weeks leaning on an elbow and sighing over the new guy, the one Syl said was single, and not a player. She’d been trying to hook me up for weeks, inviting me to drop by with cookies for the men—something I’d done in the past, but which I’d refrained from doing since his arrival because I didn’t want to seem too eager or desperate.
Besides, what would someone who looked like that want with me?
I kept crawling, but suddenly, two thick thighs gripped my waist. Biker dude straddled my waist, but kept his weight from me. With one hand gripping my shoulder, he gave my ass a slap. “Don’t stop now,” he said loudly, slapping me lightly as I crawled faster, his body hopping to keep pace with me. The problem was, his thighs dragged at my skirt, and soon I felt cool air brushing against my bottom. I tried to reach back, but he was in the way. “My skirt!”
“Don’t worry about it, sugar! Gotta have those birthday spanks.”
My face got hotter; I started to sweat. I crawled, tugging his thighs along with me until I was three feet from Johnny Blaze, who had yet to move.
Biker dude stepped away. I pulled my skirt back over my ass, one cheek burning. A chair appeared beside me. Johnny moved, sat with his legs spread, and patted his muscled thigh.
The gesture was deliberate. I shook my head and glanced up again, seeing his face for the first time. My jaw dropped.
With a flourish, he tossed his hat away, grabbed my upper arm, and hauled me over his lap, face down.
Pushing up, I tried to lean away, but he stuck his elbow in my back, and I collapsed, the undersides of my breasts riding the side of one huge thigh. “What are doing here?” I whispered harshly.
“Giving you your birthday present?” he drawled.
“Did Syl put you up to this?”
“Syl knows some things about me. Said you’d be into this. Are you?”
I craned my head around to look him in the eyes.
His dark brown gaze was narrowed.
“Not the way I saw our first date,” I muttered, my voice going all breathy because I couldn’t seem to catch it.
“I can’t think of a better way to get to know you…” He flipped up my skirt.
* * * * *
Be sure to check out the snippets on these other authors’ blogs:
Myla Jackson
Lauren Dane
Leah Braemel
Caris Roane
Eliza Gayle
Mandy M. Roth
McKenna Jeffries
Shiloh Walker
Taige Crenshaw
HelenKay Dimon
Felicity Heaton
Jody Wallace
June 28, 2013
Guest Blogger: Selena Blake
Hello all you fabulous Delilah Devlin fans. I’m so excited to be here. Many thanks to Delilah for sharing the mike.
Have you ever wondered where an author got the idea for her book? It’s a common question.
Not such an easy answer, at least for me. Ideas come to me in the shower, while driving (especially while driving on the highway), when I read something and sometimes just by wondering “what if.”
But in the case of my latest release (ASK FOR IT) real life inspired the original idea. Actually, I should say real life inspired two ideas.
First, if you read my free read (INSTRUCTING ADAM) you’ll remember that Cindy is an author who has trouble keeping her website online and she’s at her wit’s end. And let’s just say that the tech support guy is less than helpful…until she shows up on his doorstep demanding he make good on his hosting companies promises.
At one point I was having dreadful issues keeping my website “up and online” and the tech support guy was pretty snarky. He even pointed me to a clause in their terms of use about “porn.” Because, you know, I write erotic romance and that’s practically porn! (Hope you detected the sarcasm dripping from my fingertips.) That’s as far as the real life goes, I’m afraid. I decided to write out my frustrations and punish the unhelpful tech support guy. But I’m too big of a love bug evidently. Cindy shows up with a whip, bondage tape and a few demands but I don’t think Adam would consider her form of “discipline” as punishment, especially when he turns the tables on her. I would never have the guts to do what she does, which makes for perfect fiction!
ASK FOR IT follows Cindy’s best friend JJ as she also takes things into her own hands… sorta.
Again, real life inspired the idea for this book. My bank card number was stolen and used to buy shoes at a Footlocker six states away. Luckily my bank was on top of it and it was a painless problem for me. They called me immediately, verified I hadn’t dropped serious change on sneakers, and put the money back.
But I didn’t want things to be quite that easy for my heroine so her bank isn’t as wonderful as mine was. Add to that the fact that she’s a little extra protective over her cash flow due to early childhood homelessness and you get an interesting beginning of a story.
Whereas Cindy sought out a solution to her problem, serendipity drops JJ in New York city a week after her money was stolen and she decides to drop by the scene of the crime. She never expected to come face to face with the one man she’s lusted after for years and fears she’ll forever compare all men to.
And no, I didn’t go to the shoe store where my money was used. But I did utter a line that I let JJ borrow in my book. “Who the hell buys nine hundred dollars’ worth of sneakers? I mean, if you’re going to steal my money, at least buy something awesome…like Prada. Or Minolos. Or Jimmy Choos.”
If $900 dropped into your lap, what would you buy? Me? Two words. Christian Louboutins!
ABOUT SELENA BLAKE
Selena Blake writes erotic paranormal and contemporary romance. First published in 2008, her series Stormy Weather has been on bestseller lists and nominated for awards. She’s a fan of action movies, Diet Coke, Milky Way bars and thunderstorms, not necessarily in that order. Learn more about her online at http://www.selena-blake.com or catch her at facebook: http://www.facebook.com/authorSelenaBlake
June 27, 2013
Guest Blogger: Gemma Juliana
I admire writers who produce novels while working a full-time job. I have no idea how they work their time management, but they clearly have a level of self-discipline I have never even dreamed is available to tap into. Then they come home to take care of little children, do homework, make dinner, put on a wash, participate in their marriage… and write a novel or two.
I do not work outside the home, but wear many hats from bookkeeping to overseeing a homeschool teen, to being a new grandma, to making jewelry, to providing astrology sessions. I’ve left out a few of my regular gigs but you get the idea.
I should be producing three times more finished books than I am. Although I don’t believe we are all born equal, we each have just 24 hours in a day to do with as we choose. I’m on a mission to find out what works for other authors when it comes to increasing productivity.
The latest story in my Sheikhs of the Golden Triangle series, The Sheikh’s Crowning, should be available on Amazon and other e-platforms right now. But it isn’t, and won’t be for another six weeks. It’s not the characters giving me a hard time, although Rick is a tough undercover agent who likes doing things his way, not mine. And Yasmine lets me write a scene and then tells me she’s a widow, not a virgin. Or is it the other way around? I can take things like that in my stride. My problem is time management.
For months I saw incessant ads on television that made me drool for a particular voice activation software. There was this fellow, laboring at an ironing board with kids running circles around him, oblivious to everything as he dictated his hot romance into headphones. I was convinced that if I got hold of that incredible wizard’s tool that worked like a magic wand, I could pump out a book a week. Okay, maybe that’s an exaggeration, but surely a book a month?
Lo and behold, my son called and told me I could get that very software discounted to half price, but only for twenty-four hours. So I punched in my credit card info as fast as my fingers would fly over the keys, and within about three days the coveted green and white box arrived.
My first go round with the software, I stayed up until 4am trying to teach it to recognize my accent. I am not from Transylvania, although I have a slightly unusual accent. I was ready to throw the thing across the room when it occurred to me that maybe the headphone that came with the software wasn’t working. I plugged in my old headphones to see if that would work. It did. I went to bed, still bristling.
My laptop melted and I had to buy another. I uploaded the software onto the new one but have still – one year later – not successfully used it. When I whisper sweet nothings into the mic, my words and the words that show up on the page are galaxies apart.
Noise is a big factor. With a stay at home retired husband and homeschooled teen in a small house, there is only so much concentration time available. I’ve tried coffee shops and the library, but can’t ‘get into it’ the same way with strangers surrounding me.
I don’t recall having had quite such a problem when I wrote The Sheikh’s Spy, The Amulet, or Christmas Spirits, all novellas in the same series. I didn’t use the magic software, either.
Back to The Sheikh’s Crowning… Rick and Yasmine are becoming impatient, as are my readers. They want their story written. I’m even considering renting a room in a sleazy motel, and taking just my laptop and enough food and drink to survive a week of nothing but writing, editing and sleeping… no car outside the door for a joy ride!
That’s an extreme measure to take, so I hope you’ll leave a comment and share some tips that work for you. If you use voice activation software, have you got a tip that might make using it feel like a natural thing to do? Is there a way to bribe it to actually display the words you said?
Please don’t tell me to just put my butt in the chair and stay there. I am in the chair probably twelve hours a day… hence I’ve got a lot of butt to park in the chair! Much of that time is spent looking for promo for the books I have finished writing. Now there’s a time suck… but that’s another blog post for another day.
Enjoy the blue sky of summer, and I’d be thrilled if you decide to read any of my spicy sheikh novellas while you take some time out to smell the roses… and chase dragons.
If you enjoy sizzling desert princes and passionate heroines in exotic settings, check out my website.
Delilah, thanks again for having me!
Gemma’s books on Amazon. Visit GemmaJuliana.com for direct links to other platforms.
Follow Gemma as her literary journey unfolds! Twitter | Facebook | Pinterest | Instagram | Blog
June 26, 2013
Guest Blogger: Elle James (Contest)
How many times do you see something, meet someone, witness an event you feel you’ve done this before? Maybe you have in another life. Maybe you’ve seen or witnessed something similar. I find myself thinking of quotes from favorite poems, lines from movies or pictures from movies or stories or mental images of past experiences recurring in much of what I do or where I go.
While in Paris the week before last, touring Notre Dame Cathedral, I was Esmeralda from Hunchback of Notre Dame, crying out Sanctuary! At the Louvre, I was Molly Brown when she went to Europe studying all the paintings to get cultured Walking the streets of Paris I saw a vendor selling pink cotton candy and I was back in the pages of DEJA VOODOO with Molly B Boyette at the festival buying pink cotton candy. So much of our experiences in literature or movies repeats itself or has a close match and it’s fun to reference those times. It’s like coming home. I’m including (just because) some pictures from my trip to Paris. Notre Dame Cathedral, a photo of the Mona Lisa which doesn’t begin to describe how beautiful she is in person and a picture of the Sacre Coeur chapel on the only hill in Paris.
Leave a comment telling me about your Deja Vu moment for a chance to win
the prize package.
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:
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/ellejamesauthor
Twitter: https://twitter.com/MylaJacksonAuth
Website: http://www.ellejames.com/
Blog: http://ellejames.blogspot.com/
Deja Voodoo Buy Links:
A little magic goes a long way…
Alexandra Belle Boyette is closing in on the big 3-0 and her mama has made it her mission to marry her off. In the tiny parish of Bayou Miste, deep in the Louisiana swamps, finding suitable hubby material can be a challenge—and Alex would rather not rely on magical spells to do the trick. But there is a sexy new man in town who might fit the bill…
Ed Marceaux is in Bayou Miste to safeguard a key witness to a Louisiana Mafia murder. He must keep an eye out for suspicious characters—but the place seems to be full of them! What could be stranger than a woman dressed in a sexy nightgown chasing a naked man down the street? The enchantingly gorgeous Alex Boyette certainly makes it worth his while to find out…
Add a Voodoo spell gone wrong, and voila! madness—and love—ensues.
June 25, 2013
Today — LOST SOULS and QUICK AND DIRTY!
Well, today’s the day. I get to wait–impatiently—while readers get their first glimpse of Lost Souls. Of course, I can’t imagine there being anything more important than your reading this book! But hey, I understand if it takes you a day or two to let me know what you think. It’s also understandable that I’ll be here biting my nails, waiting to hear. I love this book. I love Cait and Sam. And my dream is that you will love the book well enough that you’ll tell others about it, so that they will be compelled to get their own copy of the book! Because when that happens, something magical happens—the publisher loves my book and wants more in the series, and there are so many places I want to take Sam and Cait.
If you haven’t already purchased a copy, read through the snippets I shared the past few days. This book has everything a paranormal fan could love—spooky happenings, suspense, a hero and heroine to root for and fall in love with, and magic. It’s releasing in trade paperback, eBook and in a MP3 version. The eBook version is a very reasonable $3.99. So what are you waiting for? CLICK ON THE COVER!
After you read it, I would greatly appreciate you leaving a review on Amazon to let other readers know about your experience. Readers like seeing what other folks have to say before making their buying decisions, so your opinion is important! You can make a difference! And if you would pass your experience along on Facebook or Twitter, I’d be forever grateful…
Another Sexy Collection!
Over 130 of the very best short pieces of erotica writing are compiled here for a steamy and sensual read of “quickies” in 1,500 words or less, from some of the best-loved writers in the field. Fans of The Mammoth Book of the Best New Erotica are sure to enjoy this exciting and edgy new collection.
I have two stories in the collection—”All About Me” and “Quick Draw.” You can read snippets from these two stories here.
June 24, 2013
The Magic in Lost Souls
The winner of Saturday’s contest is Chris Bails! Chris, congrats! Email me about your prize! ~DD
* * * * *
So you know Lost Souls has plenty of action and sexy goin’s on, but you probably want to know a little about the magic.
About that… I study a bit. Not sayin’ how much because that’s between me and the moon and trees, but I know some things. What I don’t do very well is create wonderful spells. Cait has the same shortcoming (how convenient is that, right?). Her partner even notes how long it takes her to write a not very good piece of poetry to accompany a very important spell in the book.
But for spells that have a history, that maybe belonged to her mother or Morin, sometimes, I have to pull in the big guns. In book one, I had help from Virginia E with “Mama’s Spell” in the opening scene. In the scene you’re about to read, I fashioned the broom spell, but author Lacey Thorn helped me with cleansing/casting the circle. She’s really very good, and if I get much farther along in the series, I’m gonna tap her again (that somehow didn’t sound quite right but might be interesting too! 
).
Enjoy another glimpse into Lost Souls—which releases tomorrow, folks!
* * * * *
Cait opened her belt and unzipped her jeans. “Why does magic always require someone gettin’ naked?”
“Not always. Sometimes, da spirits like a little pomp. Den you wear a witch’s robes. But right now, gal, you have ta humble yourself.”
“I’m plenty humble.”
“You’re plenty mouthy. Strip! You da one wit’ da favor ta ask.”
Cait stripped off her tank top, toed off her boots, and shoved her pants down her legs.
Celeste gave her body a look, her gaze pointedly lingering on her bra and panties. “Ain’t got not’ing I ain’t seen before. Or dat Morin ain’t touched.”
With her cheeks burning, Cait removed her underwear, shivering a little in the air wafting from a small fan set atop the psychic’s counter.
“Stand in da circle.”
“Which way’s north?”
Celeste pointed, and Cait aligned her body to face that direction.
Celeste gathered short black candles from a shelf and placed one in each point of the pentagram. Then she placed the other items Cait would need in the north corner. She handed Cait a handmade broom made from the stiff silk of broomcorn and stepped back into a shadowy corner.
Remembering another time she’d prepared a magic circle with her mama while standing in their kitchen along with a child’s spell she’d written, Cait held the broom.
“Sweep, sweep,” she whispered, brushing from the center of the circle.
“Sweep away the dark. Brush away the bad.
With whisk and wish, I command thee.”
Under her breath, she repeated the incantation to cleanse the circle of any negativity, whether thoughts or spirits. As she worked, she felt her irritation calm.
When she’d finished brushing away imaginary cosmic dirt, she held out her hand for Celeste’s offering of a cone of incense, a small brass dish, and a lighter.
Cait lit the incense and blew on the tip until smoke wafted in the air. Then she walked clockwise around the edge of the circle, fanning the smoke, this time reciting her mother’s much more eloquent spell.
“In this circle, safely unbroken,
Hear my words, truly spoken.
With cleansing smoke and truest heart
Remnants of evil, I bid thee part.”
As she moved, the sweet smoke swept away the remnants of the scents of death and sulphur that clung to her skin, even the faint hint of burning hair that had filled her nostrils since she’d been buzzed.
After three turns and three recitations, Cait set the incense in the southeast point of the pentagram, and then accepted a bowl of water with sea-salt grains settled at the bottom.
Cait swirled her fingers in the water to help the salt crystals dissolve, and then faced the opposite direction. Holding the bowl in front of her she circled, her movements growing more fluid as she went.
“
In this circle, safely unbroken,
Hear my words, truly spoken.
Waters open this mystic gate;
Worlds collided, entwined fate.”
After placing the bowl in the eastern point, she picked up a silver salt shaker. As she circumnavigated the pentagram, she sprinkled grains onto the floor.
“In this circle, safely unbroken,
Hear my words, truly spoken.
I call the elements, this circle bound;
Secure my path, while truth is found.”
With all the Elements called into play, save Spirit, Cait prepared to give them their due. Drawing in deep breaths, she cleared her mind, seeking the quiet place inside, the place where she connected with the spirits. Then she carefully erected a wall in her imagination, enclosing the circle with strands of spider’s silk until she stood inside a floor-to-ceiling web, noting only dimly when the black candles laid at every point lit themselves, one by one.
With a chirp from his siren, Sam pulled the unmarked sedan into a parking space in front of Celeste’s new-age shop.
The garish neon sign announcing Psychic Inside had been repaired and the large glass window replaced. The last time he’d stood on the sidewalk looking in, a tornado of flying debris had circled inside like a cyclone. At the center had stood Cait, facing a wispy wraith that had trashed the shop and flapped Celeste against the ceiling as though she weighed nothing.
Ghostly wraiths didn’t appear to be their problem this time around. Still, he felt trepidation entering the shop. He’d never admit it, but he felt magic in the air every time he entered. A feeling that reminded him all too clearly of the part of Cait’s life he’d never truly understand or share.
He pushed open the door, only to have to duck suddenly.
Celeste stood to the side, holding up a long stick, the point thrust inside the bell above the door, muffling the chime while he closed it.
Lowering the stick, she pressed a finger to her lips and then motioned him to follow her back to the room where she did her readings. At the opening in the counter, she turned. “You may stand at da door and watch,” she whispered, “but you may not interfere.”
Sam nodded, then slipped past her, quietly parting the beads. The sight greeting him made his breath catch in his throat.
Cait stood at the center of a web-like curtain, candles flaring high and warm golden light playing against her naked skin.
His gaze flew back to Celeste, but she was gone.
Sounds, like chanting but more musical, drew his gaze again. They came from inside the circle where Cait stood swaying. Her eyes were closed. Droplets of water glistened on her skin. A breeze lifted her thick dark hair to send the tendrils dancing around her head. Flames from black candles surrounding her feet blazed, the tips flickering, painting her skin with shadow and light, moving upward like the strokes of a fiery paintbrush to skim her belly, the tips of her hardened breasts, and then her face. She turned slowly, her lips moving with words impossible to hear. Her eyelids drifted upward, and her gaze found him.
For a moment she held still, a swallow working the muscles of her neck, an embarrassed tinge brightening the flickering flame dancing on her skin.
From one moment to the next, he blinked and the image was gone.
Cait stood alone with smoke wafting from doused candles, the sickly sweet scent of incense in the air. She raised her arms to cover herself, then dropped them, perhaps realizing it was a little too late.
“What’s going on, Cait?” he asked softly, still entranced by the vision that had dimmed and aroused as never before. His fingers itched to touch her skin and see whether it was hot.
“A little begging, on my part.”
“To whom?” he murmured, although inside he was intensely jealous her pleas weren’t addressed to him right now.
She lifted her hands but then dropped them again, maybe growing nervous at being found standing nude and alone. “The Powers That Be.”
To ease the thickness of his tongue, Sam swallowed hard. “You know ’em?” he asked, his words coming out nearly garbled.
“Not personally. I have to take some things on faith.”
