Delilah Devlin's Blog, page 451
June 14, 2013
4 Days to Go! (Contest!)
I don’t think I’ve ever had as much fun dreaming up a new series as I have with Delta Heat. The fun began with the titles! Five Ways ‘Til Sunday… Fournicopia… A Perfect Trifecta… Now, there’s Twice the Bang—or there will be in just 4 days! I built the countdown right into the titles. Not very subtle, huh? But you got it, right?
From now until Tuesday, I’m going to remind you about the stories that came before, then give you a peek inside Twice. And if you follow along, you’ll get a chance to read some sexy excerpts, but also qualify to win some fun prizes.
THE CONTEST: Every day, I’ll give away one free download of that day’s prequel book and a $5 Amazon.com gift certificate to one lucky commenter. If on that day, you win a download of a book you already own, I’ll let you choose a commenter to give that free download to, but you get to keep the gift certificate! Then on Tuesday, I’ll choose a name from among all the people who posted during this countdown and award a $25 gift certificate. Incentive enough to follow along?
Let’s start! This was the first book in the series, and the first time my lovely band of police officer brothers considered sharing a woman. Once they saw how powerful it could be bringing a woman into their circle to pleasure and cherish, it became their initiation rite.
“FIVE WAYS ‘TIL SUNDAY was an awesome read…” ~4.5 Stars, Night Owl Reviews
“Delightfully quick read, you are so consumed in the story it is difficult to put it down…” ~Sensual Reads
Sometimes a man’s just gotta call for backup…
Marti Kowalski is all wrong for Officer Jackson Teague—he just won’t listen to reason. She didn’t finish high school, runs a bar. Has a tattoo and a blue streak in her hair. Yet he still wants to marry her? She can’t say she’s not tempted, but she’s got a bucket list to complete before she ties the knot.
Not just any bucket—more like a fifty-five-gallon drum of sexual wishes so explicit, there’s no way one man, even Jackson, can fulfill them all.
When Marti turns him down again, Jackson doesn’t give up, he insists on knowing why. That’s when she shows him her list. He takes it, thinks about it—and calls on the only men he can trust: four buddies from his academy graduating class.
Between the five of them, he’s sure they can come up with a plan to check off every item on her list in one wild, wicked weekend. That is, if she has the nerve to follow through—and if he can bear to share her.
Warning: Five men on a mission to break down the resistance of one determined woman. Author suggests readers keep their significant others on speed dial. Not responsible for accidental 911 calls.
Marti Kowalski waved a hand blindly behind her at her desk, swiping the inventory sheets she’d slaved over for two days, and her telephone, to the floor. She didn’t care about the mess—or by the crunch—the loss of her phone. Right this moment, she had Jackson where she wanted him—too far gone with want to worry what damage he might cause.
His body was hard; his expression carved to a lustful edge, which promised the kind of sexy interlude she preferred—something spontaneous and surprising.
Even after all the months they’d been seeing each other, he managed to surprise her. Like now. He’d pulled her from the door of the ladies’ restroom and goose-stepped her with her arm bent behind her back to the manager’s office, growling menacingly into her ear about the wicked things he’d do to her.
Ma’am, keep quiet and I won’t hurt you.
She’d shivered at the menace in his voice, but he’d rubbed her hip gently to remind her this was just a game. She had to hand it to him. He knew what made her hot.
Jackson bent her over her desk and shoved up her blouse. His head ducked to pluck a nipple with his lips, and then he bit it.
“I wasn’t expecting you,” she gasped, her fingers digging into the rigid Kevlar armor he wore beneath his dark shirt. “You’re on duty. Thought you didn’t cross that line when you’re wearin’ the uniform.”
His head reared back. His dark eyes flashed. “Shut up, ma’am. You draw any attention, and I might have to get rough.”
So he was still playing the role. She widened her eyes. “Please, sir, I’ll do anything.” She tried to infuse a little angst into her voice, but inside she was laughing uproariously.
A glint of humor in his gaze might have just been the reflection of the overhead light because it quickly extinguished. He bared his teeth. A hand snuck between her thighs. A finger tucked beneath one side of the crotch of her panties and tugged. Elastic stretched and gave. His palm crammed against her bare pussy.
There was no hiding how turned on she was. Not when cream smeared his hand.
“Fuck, you’re hot.” He drew back, gripped her by the waist and gave her a little shake—just to remind her who was in charge here.
Her head bobbed backward. Her heart skittered at the strength in those large, hard hands. He could so easily hurt her, but was careful to give her just the right kind of pain.
Nostrils flaring, he did a good impression of a criminal intent on doing her bodily harm. She guessed he saw enough of them in his line of work to mimic the look.
He leaned in and whispered in her ear, “Sure this is the way you wanna play it?”
“Baby, don’t stop now,” Marti moaned.
His grunt accompanied the tightening of his hands on the corners of her hips. He gave no warning and whirled her around, then pushed gently on the back of her neck until she folded over her desk.
Her short leather skirt lifted. Hands gripped her cheeks and squeezed. His mouth pressed against her skin.
She huffed. “What kind of a rapist are you?”
“One with an ass fetish.”
She giggled and reached back to push him away, wriggling on the desk like she wanted to escape. “Stop,” she whispered huskily. “Stop or you’ll be sorry. My boyfriend’s a Memphis PD cop.”
Another grunt was his only response. He straightened, his hard body rubbing against the back of her thighs and ass. An arm clamped over her lower back, holding her down. A zipper scraped. His cock nudged against her folds, thick, insistent—lord, Jackson was completely into this naughty game. He found her entrance and drove deep inside in a single, merciless thrust.
Her body arched off the desk. “Oh shit!”
“Did I hurt you?” he muttered, deeply embedded, but unmoving.
Didn’t he know how to play this game? “You’re gonna pay, you bastard,” she said with an edge of a sob in her voice, but she wiggled her butt to let him know it was okay to proceed.
He withdrew slowly then stroked deep again. This time his hands slammed the wood on either side of her shoulders. “Stick it up higher, slut,” he growled. “My balls are bangin’ the desk.”
Slut? He’d never called her that before. She held back a chuckle, hoping the playacting wouldn’t end too soon. Jackson could only keep his focus up to a certain point. Not that she’d truly mind it when he dropped the act. Knowing she was the reason he couldn’t stay in control gave her deep satisfaction. She rose on tip-toe and tilted up her ass.
His cock crowded through juicy, engorged walls, filling her up like no man ever had before. Maybe he really was that big, or maybe she’d never been so excited. Jackson was the best lover she’d ever had—the most adventurous with the most stamina. That his body was ripped like a bodybuilder’s only added to his dangerous appeal.
She gave a short, throaty groan. “Ohmygod, that feels incredible.”
A knock sounded at the door.
“Go away,” she shouted. To Jackson, she whispered, “Hate to say it, but we might have to rush this a bit.”
Another, harder rap sounded. “Hey, Jackson, you in there?”
Marti relaxed and pushed backward to take more of Jackson’s large cock. It was only his friend, Craig Eason, letting them know he was playing lookout. Not something he hadn’t done before.
“Fucker,” Jackson bit out, banging her ass faster.
Marti snickered then gasped when he swirled inside her to stroke her most sensitive spot. “Think he knows what we’re doin’?”
“He will if you keep making that noise.”
“What noise?”
He banged her again. “That bleating noise.”
“You sayin’ I sound like a goat?”
“More like a fluffy little lamb. It’s cute.” A kiss landed on the back of her neck. “He’ll pick the lock if we don’t wrap it up.”
Marti widened her stance and tilted just a little more, needing more of her pussy smacked by his sharp, forceful thrusts. “That something he learned at the police academy?”
“Nah. Craig wasn’t always a good guy.”
Marti suspected Jackson was cut from the exact same cloth. Sure, he was an attentive boyfriend, kind to kids and dogs, but when he looked at her, sometimes she got the feeling there was something deeper and darker lurking in his past. Or maybe it was just the hardened criminals he dealt with, rubbing off on him. Her pussy swelled, getting hot, and so wet Jackson was swimming in her arousal. She aimed a smile over her shoulder. “Baby, I’m ready to rumble whenever you are.”
“Shut up, lady,” he said, his voice rough as gravel again. “Think you can take this?”
“Man,” she moaned, “my boyfriend’s soooo gonna kill you.”
June 13, 2013
Guest Blogger: Lynda Bailey
First I’d like to say a HUGE thank you to Delilah for allowing me to hang out with her today. It’s a super treat for me as she’s one of my favorite authors.
Okay. Enough gushing. Onto inspiration.
Inspiration, or better known as how I (the novelist) come up with my story ideas, is different for each writer. I know some folks who get inspired by a dream or a smell or a color in a sunrise. I’m not that abstract. I need an actual person, place or thing to kick start my muse. For example, the heroine in my erotic novella, On the Corner of Heartache and Hopeful—MIC was based on/inspired by an actual female mechanic who helped me once when I’d stupidly locked my keys in my car. Another example would be my best-selling contemporary romance, Battle-Born Love, which was inspired by a now defunct repo business called Accounts Retrievable.
And then there’s my upcoming release, Erotic Escapades of a Married Couple. This novella was inspired pretty much lock, stock and barrel by a girlfriend, PJ (neither her name nor her initials). PJ confided to me that she had a fantasy of going into a Jiffy Lube or Pep Boys or some similar garage and allowing the guys to—ahem—“have their way” with her. Well…Linda the friend was pretty shocked while Lynda the writer was seriously inspired. 
And thus, Erotic Escapades was born.
Of course I took several creative licenses, including the introduction of a gay/bi-sexual friend who becomes…more. I also pushed my comfort zone for Erotic Escapades by writing m/m sex for the first time. Here’s the blurb and excerpt:
Being a settled, married couple doesn’t have to be boring…
Griffin Jensen has it all. He owns a successful advertising agency, has a great kid, beautiful home and the hottest wife known to man. He and Deana make it their mission to fulfill each other’s every erotic fantasy. So why does he feel like something is missing?
Deana Jensen has been head over heels in love with her husband since they first dated in college. Back then, Grif was a player—with both sexes. Deana never considered his bisexual past a threat, but after twelve years of marriage, she fears she’s no longer enough for him. She’ll do whatever it takes to satisfy her husband, but can she share him with another man?
Vance Korbett swore off women years ago when his fiancée left him at the altar. Now he finds “love” in the arms of different men. It’s simple and easy. Eat. Sleep. Screw. Nothing could be better—other than the marital bliss he sees with his best friends, Deana and Grif. Too
bad three’s a crowd. Or is it?
Erotic Escapades of a Married Couple is a hot, sexy novella which includes explicit sex, group sex and M/M sex.
NOTE: THIS EXCERPT IS FOR MATURE READERS ONLY!!
Grif merged his Porsche into oncoming traffic on the expressway. The Thursday morning work commute was light, probably because it was still before six a.m. He glanced at his passenger.
Deana sat, her hands folded primly in her lap and a blindfold over her eyes. Dressed in a simple zip-up navy jogging hoodie and matching fleece pants, electrified tension radiated off her in waves. “So, where are we going?”
The breathy quality of her voice smacked him square in the balls. It was the same tone she used when nearing a climax and she urged him to go faster. To fuck her harder. He squirmed in his seat as his semi-erect dick got firmer. “Wait and see, birthday girl.”
He concentrated on the road, tamping down the urge to forgo the plan he and Vance had hatched for celebrating his wife’s thirty-third. She didn’t know anything, so he could just as easily text Vance that the deal was off then whisk her to a five-star hotel where she’d be pampered and fucked to within an inch of her life. Hell, to within an inch of his life. She’d never be the wiser…
Yet he knew he wouldn’t do that. This had been her fantasy for years. After twelve years of marriage, it was time he granted it—even if it might kill him.
“Come on, babe,” she pleaded. “I deserve a teensy hint given that you got me up at this unholy hour. ”
“Nope. And if you bug me, I’ll make sure you wait just that much longer.”
She crossed her arms with a huff, her lower lip sticking out. He grinned and switched on the radio to fill the silence of the forty-minute drive. Vance had been in charge of the arrangements and had chosen a distant suburb. Hopefully it’d be far enough away so Deanie wouldn’t suffer any repercussions of this little adventure. He wanted her happy, not embarrassed.
Jealous uncertainty wiggled through his chest, forging a dent in his resolve. He shook it off. This was what she wanted. It was okay. Didn’t mean she found him lacking in the fucking department. Because she didn’t. Not at all. Every time they made love, he made damn sure she had a minimum of two orgasms.
Grif kept up the internal pep talk until he’d parked in a slot, killed the engine and snapped off the radio.
“Now will you tell me?”
“Nope.” He reached over and pulled the blindfold off her eyes. “But I’ll show you.”
* * * * *
Erotic Escapades is scheduled for release at the end of June. In the meantime, please check out my website www.lyndabailey.net for my other stories, all available through Amazon.com and Barnesandnoble.com.
So, what gets your creative juices going? It is something concrete, like me, or more intangible? I’d love to for you to share.
Thanks again, Delilah for hosting me today!
June 12, 2013
Guest Blogger: Marsha West
Thank you for having me today, Delilah. I think this will be fun, but this will be a little different from most of the posts on your blog. It is about writing but only in a peripheral way. I love blogging. Probably more than any other social media, and that would be because I’m fairly long-winded. The subject also relates to my first release VERMONT ESCAPE. (See below for cover)
How many of you have ever written a letter to the editor or one to your Congress person or state representative or assembly person? (In Vermont, the state legislature is called the assembly. I researched that for my July release.) How about to your school board representative. Do you know who that person is?
I see you squirming out there. Stomach heaving, finger itching to push delete because you think I’m going to go all politics on you. No, no, no. I’ve heard the rules that include don’t talk religion or politics on social media, because you run the chance of alienating ½ your readers. I am a rule follower. 
But I’ve always been an involved citizen.
Got it from my mother, an awesome Civil Service executive secretary for colonels and generals. My father was in the Air Force, and we moved around a lot. Folks in the military couldn’t get involved in politics openly. Makes sense in a way. The President is the commander-in-chief. Not good to attack the boss. 
Well, back to my mother. After my father retired, Mom picked up her pen (typewriter/computer) and sent off reams of letters to politicians of all walks and in all positions. This was back in the day, when letters were on paper and mailed. To their credit, she heard back from most of them.
Mom was my role model, a genteel southern lady, who had strong opinions and wasn’t afraid of stating them. That’s what I’ve become. (Not the southern lady part). LOL
I started by working in all my daughters’ school PTAs, and boy did I learn leadership skills there. Ultimately, I ran for a seat on our school board. Lost the first time (not at all fun), but ran twice more and was elected both times, serving for a total of 8 years. The learning curve was huge, and I loved the experience.
For me the hardest thing was talking to a reporter. Oh, I could talk all day into a mike, but getting the content down to fit the 15 -20 seconds that would show up on TV? That was tough. You won’t be surprised to learn it’s a challenge for me to break down a 90-K book into a log line. LOL
You’re thinking I’ve wondered all around several topics, aren’t you? Well, only sort of. You see, we held elections all across the country this past March, April, and May in small towns to sprawling urban communities for everything from mayor to dog-catcher and everything in between. Run-offs usually fall in the month of June. On July 4th, we celebrate among other things our freedom to vote. I’m a fairly patriotic person. (Not surprisingly, you can find a scene in VERMONT ESCAPE, where Jill celebrates the Fourth with her new friends and contrasts the weather in Vermont with that in Texas. Big difference. 
)
I encourage you to take note of who is running for various positions in your own community. Many of those elections are held in the fall. Others are in the spring as I mentioned above. Find out when you hold elections in your area. Find someone who believes the way you do and stands for the things you do. Then give money to their campaign, volunteer, and vote.
If you’re afraid of getting embroiled in party politics, you can probably avoid that. More than likely you’ll find positions that are non-partisan. (In my town, our school board, city council, and mayor are non-partisan elections.)
If you decide to go with one of the political parties, good for you. Just please don’t post ugly things about the other side on my Facebook page. 
We are fortunate in our country to make changes in our political system in a peaceful manner. In some countries, when people speak out they face bullets. It’s your turn now. Have you ever worked in anyone’s campaign? What compelled you to do that? Was it a partisan race? Have you ever run for a position? How did that turn out? How do you educate yourself about candidates and their positions? Even if you’ve never gotten behind a candidate or platform, are you registered to vote? Do you feel like you just don’t have time?
Remember the young girl in Pakistan who was shot because she wanted to make sure girls in her country got an education? We should get involved in her honor.
My first book, VERMONT ESCAPE, releases July 15 by MuseItUp Publishing and will be available at all e-book venues.
After the murders of her husband and then father, Jill Barlow flees to Vermont, but the Texas gambling syndicate believes she’s hiding damning evidence. To get it, they’ll kill again.
Excerpt:
Jill Barlow reached for her make-up kit and brushed against the one thing she’d been doing her damnedest to avoid. Her heart rate tripped into overtime.
It was the package she received days after her dad was murdered. That was one month ago, but she couldn’t face opening a reminder of the nightmare.
Pictures of her vigorous father mixed with recent images of his closed casket. Nausea hit. Again. Damn. Why would someone blow off her father’s head ? She hadn’t stayed to find out. She’d run.
I blog every Thursday. You can find me at my website. And follow me at Facebook and Twitter. I’d love to hear from you. And thanks again, Delilah.
June 11, 2013
Guest Blogger: Lyndi Lamont
Pictures of your art/craft treasures will be posted on Friday! Thanks to everyone who participated!
* * * * *
Wisdom from the Kama Sutra
Everyone knows that the Kama Sutra is a sex manual, but did you also know that it’s an ancient etiquette manual, as well?
When I was writing How To Woo… A Reluctant Bride, I did some research and discovered that The Kama Sutra of Vatsyayana is almost 2,000 years old. Written in Sanskrit, it wasn’t translated into English until 1883 by the famous explorer, Sir Richard Burton. The book was privately and quietly published, no doubt shipped in plain brown paper.
Once I’d decided to set a story in 1885, I found a copy of his translation and started reading. It’s a fascinating mix of sexual instruction and advice on courtship, combined with superstitions of the period in which it was written. In addition to listing various sexual positions, some with quaint names such as “splitting of a bamboo” and “fixing of a nail”, it also covers biting, scratching and striking, as well as “mouth congress”, i.e. oral sex, and threesomes.
Hindu society of the time was patriarchal and some of the advice is ridiculous by today’s standards. People also married very young at the time, so I suppose it’s no wonder that the advice for how the woman should behave sounds very juvenile by today’s standards. In one section, Vatsyayana, who was a monk, actually recommends kidnapping the prospective bride if all else fails! Something my civilized English hero would never do. Still, some of the courtship advice is timeless, and shows a basic understanding of the differences between men and women.
Here are some of my favorite quotes:
“Women, being of tender nature, want tender beginnings.”
“At the first time of sexual union the passion of the male is intense, and his time is short, but in subsequent unions on the same day the reverse of this is the case. With the female however it is the contrary, for at the first time her passion is weak, and then her time is long, but on subsequent occasions on the same day, her passion is intense and her time short, until her passion is satisfied.”
“… the man should do whatever the girl takes most delight in, and he should get for her whatever she may have a desire to possess.”
“Says Ghotakamukha, Though a man loves a girl ever so much, he never succeeds in winning her without a great deal of talking.”
“In Gramaneri many young men enjoy a woman that may be married to one of them, either one after the other or at the same time. Thus one of them holds her, another enjoys her. . . and in this they go on enjoying her several parts alternatively.”
The same things can be done when several men are sitting in company with one courtesan, or when one courtesan is alone with many men. In the same way this can be done by the women of the King’s harem when they accidentally get hold of a man.”
Makes you wonder how often the women of the harem “accidentally” got hold of a man! And where they found him, in the first place. This quote may have been the inspiration for the Victorian erotic novel Three Nights in a Moorish Harem, by the prolific author Anonymous.
Even though he was a monk, Vatsyayana had a romantic streak: “If men and women act according to each other’s liking, their love for each other will not be lessened even in one hundred years.”
Last December, I reissued my short story, How To Woo… A Reluctant Bride, in which Victorian sensibilities collide with the sensual wisdom of the Kama Sutra. This was a fun story to write and to research, since I did, indeed, have to read the above-mentioned sex manual. It was the perfect way to spice up an arranged Victorian marriage.
How To Woo… A Reluctant Bride
(Romantic Historical Short Story)
by Lyndi Lamont
Rating: Spicy
A marriage contract, nothing more…until darkly handsome Evan Channing and demure Lydia Blatchford meet. Yet the rules are simple for an arrangement such as theirs. There should be no misunderstanding, no illusions of anything more.
But the rules are about to change when Evan is gifted with an intriguing copy of the Kama Sutra. He sets out to win his high-born bride, blending seductive heat with exotic lessons in lovemaking. With a little help from Sir Richard Burton’s new, provocative translation of ancient wisdom on seduction and arousal, the cold marriage bed of an arranged union is about to combust into a blazing flame of desire
(Previously published under the title Love… By the Book)
4 Angels…” a scintillating mix of lust and sexual exploration… Ms. Lamont has done a very nice job of bringing a bit of the exotic into her writing.” – Dawnie, Fallen Angel Reviews
Available for 99 cents from:
Amazon, All Romance eBooks, Apple iBooks, Barnes & Noble/Nook, Kobo Books, and Smashwords
Lyndi Lamont is the racy alter ego of romance author Linda McLaughlin. Since becoming Lyndi, she has discovered that writing sexy romance is a license to be naughty, at least between the pages of her books! Lyndi has written numerous short stories and novellas, including male/male erotica.
You can find her online at: http://www.lyndilamont.com/
Blog: Lyndi’s Love Notes: http://www.lyndilamont.com/blog
Twitter: https://twitter.com/LyndiLamont
GoodReads: http://www.goodreads.com/LyndiLamont
June 10, 2013
A Question…
I was supposed to have a guest today, but she must have forgotten, and I definitely forgot to remind her! So, here I am!
I’m keeping it short and sweet today. Just a question for you to answer, because your opinion matters!
If archeologists could somehow discover the location of and dig up anything—an object or some lost city—from any time in the past, what would you want that thing or place to be?
June 9, 2013
Guest Author: Michele Drier
My aunt told my girl cousins to date men—let them take you dancing, to dinner, to movies, for midnight strolls. That part, the romantic part, was all good. But don’t marry them and wash their socks.
She and my uncle were married for almost fifty years when he died. They had ups and downs and were oddly suited. He was a dreamer, she was the practical one, but she loved him. Early in their marriage, she’d get up early and make his breakfast—bacon, eggs, biscuits from scratch and home fried potatoes.
She hated making potatoes every morning. He hated eating them. But this went on for years before one of them said something, afraid to hurt the other’s feelings but letting resentment grow and fester. I don’t know which one finally said something first, but they both independently told me that story years later, as a complaint about the other.
He wooed her when they met. He was a wonderful dancer and they went to dinner, dancing, picnics, the beach. Then they got married and the realties hit. Babies, potatoes and washing socks.
She read voraciously, not all romance but some. She was looking for that feeling of youth, that feeling of love. She knew she was loved, he told her often, but she still washed his socks instead of going dancing.
We all want romance, and if it’s not fully attainable, that’s better because it can go into our secret selves. And better yet, we control when it comes out.
Whether it’s sweet romance, historic romance or erotic romance, it’s ours and we imagine it in our own way.
Probably most of us wouldn’t make it living in a drafty stone castle in Scotland’s rainy and cold weather, using privies, never bathing, wearing the same clothes for months on end. But the lure of adventure is strong, and these facts won’t distract from the clash of swords and the sight of strong men running to the battlements. Not to mention running to our bedroom.
No matter where we see ourselves in romances—dusty western towns, Regency England, in the Caribbean with pirates—we have it to ourselves. It’s improbable and impossible, but that’s the appeal.
In my SNAP paranormal romance series, the impossible is a 500-year-old vampire named Jean-Louis. He’s beautiful, he’s cultured, he’s uber-wealthy, he’s brave and he has household staff to wash his socks.
We all need that secret place to go when the realties overwhelm us.
What’s your secret place? And who’s your secret lover?
Michele Drier was born in Santa Cruz and is a fifth generation Californian. She’s lived and worked all over the state, calling both Southern and Northern California home. During her career in journalism—as a reporter and editor at daily newspapers—she won awards for producing investigative series.
Her mystery Edited for Death, called “Riveting and much recommended” by the Midwest Book Review is on Amazon and the second book in the Amy Hobbes Newspaper mysteries, Labeled for Death, will be published in June.
Her paranormal romance series, SNAP: The Kandesky Vampire Chronicles, is available in ebook, paperback and audible at ebook retailers. All have received “must read” reviews from the Paranormal Romance Guild. SNAP: The World Unfolds, SNAP: New Talent, Plague: A Love Story and Danube: A Tale of Murder are available singly and in a boxed set at Amazon, B&N and Kobo. The fifth book, SNAP: Love for Blood rated 5 stars, is now out. She’s writing SNAP: Happily Ever After? for release in fall 2013 and a seventh book later in 2013.
Visit her website: http://www.micheledrier.com or Facebook page, http://www.facebook.com/AuthorMicheleDrier or her Amazon author page, http://www.amazon.com/Michele-Drier/e/B005D2YC8G/
June 8, 2013
Saturday Snippet: Love Hurts
Don’t forget to send me photographs of your art! See yesterday’s post for details! ~DD
* * * * *
This week’s topic is “love hurts.” No couple I’ve written has been through more heartache than Darcy and Quentin. In fact, I wrote two books that document their travails, and I think there’s probably another story waiting to be written whenever I get off the current contract schedule. Enjoy reading about the first time Q thinks he’s lost his love.
If you post a comment today, you’ll be entered to win
a free download of this book!
“…congratulations to Ms. Devlin for creating a masterpiece. This story has all the elements that a Gold Star book has in it. The novel has intense suspense that was thrilling and delightful…” ~Gold Star Award, Just Erotic Romance Reviews
“… LOVE BITES is a delicious, emotional romp of a story, a tale that builds powerfully on the old, often-used love triangle and succeeds beautifully in creating something new and exciting.” ~Sensual Romance
On the trail of a serial killer, vampire Quentin Albermarle is mistaken for the killer by a police special task force. Once the smoke clears, Quentin finds himself in a delicious position-atop one of the unit’s crack officers, Darcy Henry.
In need of Quentin’s access to the vampire sub-culture, the task force leadership invites Quentin to join the crime unit as a special advisor, much to the chagrin of the men in the unit, and especially, of Darcy.
A no-nonsense cop with no time for romance, Darcy suddenly finds herself embroiled in a steamy love triangle between her mortal partner, Joe, and the handsome vampire. Going from abstinence to wantonness, she is unable to resist the two men’s relentless seduction or her own sensual curiosity about a vampire’s special “kiss”.
When the real killer threatens the life of someone close to her, Darcy makes a choice that forever binds the three of them together.
Quentin watched from the shadow of the cockpit, his hand tightening around the puny stake he held. Nicky had a gun pointed at Darcy. Quentin didn’t dare make a move or he might distract her.
Nicky took a step toward her.
“Don’t come any closer,” she warned.
He sniffed the air. “I smell Quentin. He’s been all over you, hasn’t he?” His smile sent a shiver down Quentin’s back.
“You’re surrounded,” Darcy said, her voice steady. “You may as well lay down your weapon. You aren’t stepping off this boat.”
Quentin’s chest filled with pride at her courage.
“But I have you, therefore I have the advantage.”
A soft click and the blur of her arrow flying toward Nicky’s chest happened so quickly, Quentin didn’t have time to react.
The arrow sank only to its tip.
Nicky’s laughter, soft and ominous rang in the air. “Do you think you’re the only ones who own flak jackets?” He plucked the arrow from his shirt. “Let’s stop wasting time. Come here.” He waved her closer with his gun.
Quentin watched Darcy’s face and knew the exact moment she’d decided not to cooperate. She drew a deep breath and her hands clenched at her sides. He started to rise from his hiding place when she took a step toward Nicky. Suddenly, she feinted to the side.
The roar of Nicky’s gun spurred Quentin from his hiding place. From the corner of his eye he saw Darcy pitch forward and over the side of the boat, her body splashing softly in the water below. He roared and launched himself at Nicky, desperate to get to Darcy.
He raised his stake and Nicky fired again, striking Quentin in the abdomen. He dropped the stake, but the bullet didn’t slow his advance. His charge carried him into Nicky and down onto the bow of the cruiser. His progeny roared, his face transforming and pulling Quentin into his bloodlust.
Quentin’s body and face expanded and he flung back his head with a roar of fury. He rolled with Nicky, fighting to keep his “son” beneath him. He spotted a coil of rope and reached out his hand to close around it.
Nicky pounded at Quentin’s sides with his fists, but Quentin was undeterred. He grasped the rope in both hands and wound it once around his opponent’s throat.
Nicky’s eyes bulged as the noose tightened. His mouth gaped and his body bucked in powerful surges, trying to unseat Quentin, but Quentin pulled tighter until the nylon cut into the other vamp’s throat.
With adrenaline surging through his veins, Quentin snapped the rope, severing Nicky’s head from his shoulders.
When the din of his bloodlust quieted in his head, he heard the shouts of the team and Dylan as they ran toward him. He lurched toward the side of the boat and jumped into the water. As he entered it, he heard splashes all around him and bright lights shown into the murky depths.
He swam deep to the bottom of the inlet, but he didn’t see her. His heart breaking, he reached into the silt and waving fronds of seagrass, searching for the place her body had settled. How long had it been? Please God, I have to find her.
His lungs burning from the lack of air, he refused to return to the surface. Every moment was precious. His hands sank below the swirling green seaweed as he swam along the bottom.
Then he saw a pale oval glimmering among the fronds. He reached and snagged Darcy’s braid, pulling her into his arms. He swam for the surface, his lungs nearly bursting, praying he wasn’t too late.
When he surfaced, many hands reached for his burden. Although reluctant to let her go, he lifted her body gently into their waiting arms, then heaved himself onto the planks beside them.
Max made quick work of removing her Kevlar jacket and her T-shirt. Then he placed two fingers to the side of her throat. “Her heart isn’t beating.”
A raw, burning sensation tightened Quentin’s throat. With every fiber of his being, he fought the need to push everyone aside and gather her close to him and howl. Darcy couldn’t be gone. Eternity without her was unthinkable.
His breath sounding harsh in his ears, he watched Max press his clasped hands against her chest. Captain Springer knelt beside her head and lowered his mouth to hers, breathing into her lungs. Dylan pressed her T-shirt against the furrowed wound high on her shoulder that seeped slowly with her blood.
An arm settled around his shoulders and Quentin looked up into Emmy’s misty face. Then he realized he was crying. She kissed his cheek and hugged him tightly to her breasts. His arms slipped around her while his eyes burned, watching the men work over Darcy’s still form.
“Breathe dammit,” he whispered, willing her to live. If only, he’d moved more quickly, he could have taken the bullet for her.
The men continued to work and Quentin’s dread grew. He was responsible for this. He had made Nicky. God damn his soul.
Max stopped the compressions and checked her pulse again.
Quentin saw a flutter of an eyelid. “Wait,” he said, his breath catching. Please don’t let me have imagined it.
Darcy’s body convulsed and water burbled from her mouth. Max rolled her to her side and she choked, vomiting water. Her eyes remained closed and the group waited to see whether she’d recover.
Slowly, her hand fisted and she coughed. Her eyes opened and she stared straight at Quentin.
Quentin didn’t care that everyone saw the tears that streaked down his cheeks. He crawled toward her and reached out his hand to cup her cheek. “Don’t you ever give me another scare like that,” he said, not recognizing the sound of his voice, it was so clogged with emotion.
Darcy’s hand settled over his. “What? You think I planned to suck down the entire Atlantic?” She coughed again, the sound rattling harsh inside her chest.
“Let’s get this one to a hospital,” the Captain said.
Darcy’s eyes sought Quentin’s. “Nicky?”
“He’s dead,” he said flatly.
“As are the rest of his minions,” Max said.
Darcy settled back against the wooden planks, her eyes closing. “So tired.”
Quentin gathered her into his arms and lurched to his feet. “Sleep, baby. I’ve got you now.”
She sighed and pressed a kiss to his throat.
Quentin held her to close to his heart as he followed the Captain toward the waiting van. He’d never let her go.
* * * * *
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
Taige Crenshaw
HelenKay Dimon
Felicity Heaton
June 7, 2013
I’ve shown you mine, now let me see yours!
See the pics below? That’s the sort of thing I do when I’m trying to unwind. I can play with color and make what I see in my head happen. Something I can’t really do when I write. Making jewelry isn’t nearly as time-consuming either. The earrings took maybe an hour, because I kept putting things together, then cutting the wire because I didn’t like the length of the dangles. The pendant took a week because of having to leave it to dry in between applications of paint and ink and varnish, but only about an hour of real labor. The bracelet took a couple of hours because I played with dangles, trying to figure out what I liked putting together.
It’s therapy, and I’ve shared pics of things I’ve made since I started working with jewelry over a year ago. (You can see more of my jewelry on my Pinterest page.)
My question is, are you crafty or artistic? And would you like to share pictures of what you make here? If you send them, I will add them to this post! OR if I get enough, I’ll put together a post next Tuesday to showcase your artistic/crafty efforts! And if you have Pinterest pages where you show your work, send me those links!
Make sure your pics aren’t huge files, you can resize them so they don’t take forever to load. And please keep it to 2—so choose your best! Don’t be shy or think you have to be professional—I’m not! Email your pictures to me at Delilah@delilahdevlin.com.
June 6, 2013
Guest Blogger: Jocelyn Dex
I’ve seen a lot of interviewers ask authors how they decide which quirks or kinks their characters will have. The answer differs from author to author, but for me, the characters tell me as I write.
Obviously, it’s all coming out of my brain but it’s not a conscious decision. I sit down, start writing and stuff pours from my brain through my fingertips. Although, most days it’s more like a slow drip than a pour but you get the picture.
I don’t consciously decide, ahead of time, that my characters like to be spanked or like to perform fellatio, etc. I don’t know much of anything until it’s staring at me on the screen.
Sometimes, I say, “Ooh. Awesome.” Other times it’s more like, “Ew. Really?” But whatever. My characters let me know what they want and I usually give it to them.
In Araya’s Addiction, my first erotic paranormal romance, the heroine, Araya, a Sempire demon, wants love and monogamy. Her hero, Kean, has no such notion. In between him being a prisoner and her trying to refuse his advances, they end up experiencing scorching sex and an incredible happily ever after. But, there was one scene in Araya’s Addiction that made me blush. Seriously, I considered cutting it from the story but Kean insisted it stay and I reluctantly agreed.
I’m sure that scene won’t work for everyone but it worked for my characters and was a turning point of sorts. I hope you’ll check out Araya’s Addiction. The series title is still in the works but I have two more stories planned for this universe. One has already been accepted for publication and the other is being considered.
Thanks to Delilah for having me on her blog today! I’m honored.
Title: Araya’s Addiction
Publisher: Ellora’s Cave
Genre: Erotic Paranormal Romance
When Kean wakes up naked, collared and locked in a cell, he knows thinking with his dick has finally gotten him into trouble. Part Incubus, Kean enjoys scorching sexual liaisons, a habit that has found him trapped, forced to help a Sempire rescue her daughter from certain death.
Unwilling to aid in anyone’s imprisonment, Araya initially refuses her mother’s “gift”, but the passion simmering between her and Kean is undeniable. As they explore their shared lust, both Araya and Kean enact schemes to save each other. Their best laid plans may awaken emotions that will bind them forever.
*Note: A Sempire is a female demon who requires semen to survive.
Reviews
Gaele @ The Jeep Diva:
…With several steamy to downright scorching scenes, clever dialogue, humor and the potential for a happy ever after, this was a really fun and clever read. Dex has created a new sexual demon, and made them lovable, if not a bit outrageous in their attitudes and thinking. The desires and emotions of the characters were easy to relate to as the characters were well-defined and voiced, a nice addition to this novella.
Anna @ Book Lovin’ Mamas:
…The chemistry between Araya and Kean was smokin’ hot and they were great individual characters too. And I LOVE the sister and Mom. They were quite entertaining! … Overall this was a great read! Lots of fun and very very sexy! I can’t wait to read something else from this author and I will be impatiently waiting for more! 
Geraldine H:
…The story line kept me interested, the description of the characters as well as the scene were so well written, I could picture myself there. I became engrossed in the main characters as well as some of the “supporting” characters. I really didn’t want the story to end. The detail in the sex scenes were incredible! I am anxiously waiting on the next book and hoping it includes more on Araya’s fabulous sister.
Author Bio
Jocelyn was born in Iowa and currently resides in Texas. She shares her home with her very own 6’4″ alpha male and varying numbers of spoiled cats and dogs. Teaching one of her dogs to file his nails is one of her all-time favorite accomplishments. Jocelyn loves to paint, loves to read, and loves to write sizzling erotic romance about yummy demons that would make your momma blush.
Here’s where you can find Jocelyn on the web
Website * Facebook * Twitter * Blog * Goodreads
Here’s where you can buy Araya’s Addiction
Amazon * Ellora’s Cave * Barnes & Noble * ARe
June 5, 2013
Guest Blogger: Janis Susan May/Janis Patterson, et al
I stand in awe of those who can write book after book in a single genre. How can they bear to do one story, then another, then another, then another ad infinitum that each follow the same structure? That is not an “all genre writers are formulaic” slam; however, the fact that each genre has certain expectations of structure/tone/ending is what makes it a genre.
That said, I still don’t see how a writer can keep writing the same set of expectations – however different each individual book might be. A cozy mystery is a cozy mystery. A romance is a romance. A horror is a horror. Etc. I love them all, but cannot even read just one genre. Or write.
I write romance and horror (as Janis Susan May), cozy mysteries (as Janis Patterson), children’s (as Janis Susan Patterson), and non-fiction and scholarly (as J.S.M. Patterson.) Usually all at the same time.
Yes, I bore easily. It’s a character flaw. During my time in the 8-5 workforce I did everything from acting/singing to being a multi-magazine publishing group Editor in Chief (two groups, actually!) to being Supervisor of Accessioning in a bio-genetic DNA testing lab to checking documents in a travel agency. I’ve been a talent agent and a jewelry designer and more, but I won’t bore you with a complete list. Our home libraries (yes, plural – two currently extant and another in the works) bulge with research books on WWI/WWII and Egyptology and travel and photography and cooking and history. How this pertains to writing is that not only does this diverse knowledge pool give me a wealth of personal experience to draw upon, it is a constant reminder of my need for variety.
People have asked me how I can switch from one genre to another and my only answer is how do you switch from any one thing to another in your life? From a manual shift car (my personal fave!) to an automatic? From cooking in a plain old skillet to using a microwave? From a simple desk-top single line telephone to a Smart Phone? We very seldom do the same thing all the time, from cars to cooking; why should writing in different genres be regarded as such an impossible task?
I’m not going into the branding thing here, but will suggest that readers are a lot more forgiving of genre-jumpers than some publishers – and some writers. I know I would read anything some of my favorite authors might care to do, including a re-write of the telephone book!
In my personal experience genre-jumping keeps my writing fresh, as does having several projects going on at once. When one goes stale, I switch to another which, even though it might have gone stale in the past, now appears a different book with a fresh look. This is not always easy when I am juggling two deadlines, but it has never failed to work, and I have never missed a deadline yet. Currently I have on my computer – in various stages of completion – a romance, a time-travel romance, two cozy mysteries, two romantic adventures and a section of a scholarly tome destined to be a college text. Needless to say, the two that are under contract are getting the most attention at the moment, but I know the others are there, patiently waiting to help me over any rough spots that might manifest or to stimulate my flagging imagination.
Did I mention that I bore easily? I would never restrict myself to reading and/or writing just one genre any more than I would consider having just one job for my entire working life. I cannot help but think of my patron saint Auntie Mame’s unforgettable words, “Life is a banquet and most poor fools are starving to death!”
Enjoy and explore what you can when you can.
