Delilah Devlin's Blog, page 454
May 12, 2013
Guest Blogger: Missy Jane
As a reader I often become emotionally involved in the story. I’ll learn to love and hate the characters and become attached to them. I miss them when I’m done and often count down the days until the next book in a series is released. So you might be able to imagine how much worse the hero worship gets when the characters are my own. I live with them, dream about them, and let them speak through me. Aside from feeling a bit narcissistic it can also be heartbreaking when they stop talking to me. I’m a pantser so my characters write my stories. Sometimes they go on and on. Sometimes it’s like pulling teeth to get to the end.
Whenever I have a new release I don’t read it right away. I, of course, read the book through during the final editing phase. However, when I’m sent the absolute final copies before the release date I put them into a file and ignore them for a while. Why? Well, I’m usually already onto another story and another set of characters. In essence, I’ve already fallen in love with someone else. I know I’m such a floozy. I do find myself going back months later to read my books and sometimes I’m surprised by them. I usually fall in love with my heroes all over again too.
In my series, Love Beyond Barriers, it was easy to fall in love with each one of the heroes. All of them share the traits of patience, honesty, and loyalty. All of them showed true concern for their heroine and the other people in their story they call friends. In the final installment, Too Much to Lose, Ben is unique. He’s a young, single personal trainer who has set his sights on his friend’s sister. Don’t worry, the friend doesn’t mind but the sister does. Shayla is from New York and just can’t see things working out between her and the insistent Texan. But of course love will find a way, especially with all the sparks flying between these two in the bedroom.
Too Much to Lose will be available on May 15th!
Here’s a little taste:
Shayla loves her life in New York. She loves her job, her freedom and her friends. What she doesn’t love is going home to an empty bed every night. There’s definitely a solution for that in Texas…Ben. The only problem is she’s not certain she’s ready for another serious relationship.
Ben fell head over heels for Shayla almost from the moment they met and it was obvious the attraction was mutual. However, great sex is all she’s willing to give. She tests his patience at every turn and his endurance whenever they’re alone together. He doesn’t know what more to offer.
It might take a force of nature and the emotional past coming back to haunt her before Shayla realizes what they have is definitely Too Much to Lose.
A Romantica® erotic romance from Ellora’s Cave
Want more? You can find all of the books in the series here: http://www.ellorascave.com/too-much-to-lose.html
-Missy Jane
*Make reading a guilty pleasure…*
www.authormissyjane.com
www.msmissyjane.blogspot.com
www.twitter.com/msmissyjane
https://www.facebook.com/pages/Missy-Jane/208776832491620
May 11, 2013
Saturday Snippet: Heroine’s First Glimpse (Contest)
Okay, so my choice of excerpts isn’t a perfect fit for today’s topic. I’m at my dd’s house and I don’t have access to files not stored in “the cloud.” But I did want to tell you about the next book in the Delta Heat series that’s coming your way June 18th. I know you like smutty fantasy. What’s sexier than a cop or a firefighter? How about both? Yeah, simple premise. But you know the fun’s in the execution. And BTW, Twice the Bang is ready for pre-order. 
If you post a comment today, you’ll be entered to win
a free download of one of the prequel Delta Heat books!
Who says it’s better to share your toys?
Delta Heat, Book 4
Beau McIntyre has had his eye on Pansy Patton for a while. But after their friends’ coming out party—where Pansy wears nothing but a sexy smile—Beau isn’t the only one jockeying for the best view of her pretty backside. Realizing it was a mistake to opt for a drawn-out seduction, Beau plans on staking his claim.
Billy Sorenson knows he’s out of his league with a submissive like Pansy, but it was lust at first sight. Now he’ll do whatever it takes to have her, even if he has to be penciled into her schedule for equal time.
A smoking-hot firefighter with ice-blue eyes, or a mysterious cop…what’s a girl to do? Pansy has the answer: refuse to choose and savor the consequences of both men pursuing her.
Doe she expect her lovers to play fair? Oh, no. She’s hoping they’ll play dirty. Real dirty…
As they drove to the Italian restaurant where Billy had made reservations, Pansy watched the handsome firefighter from the corner of her eye. He was all wrong for her. A vanilla guy who didn’t understand the first thing about what a girl like her needed.
And yet she couldn’t do the right thing. Couldn’t tell him take her home and forget about seeing her again. There was something about him she really liked.
Didn’t hurt he was easy to look at. Tall and thickly muscled everywhere, he looked like a Viking come to life. Only with short, bristly blond hair. And with pale, penetrating eyes that were completely swoon worthy.
The first time she’d felt that arctic-blue gaze settle on her naked body at the party, she’d felt an electric spark sizzle across her skin. She’d been so excited her nipples had tightened as though pinched by naughty fingers.
Or maybe it was the added bonus that Beau’s whole body had stiffened beside hers as Billy had approached. She’d been trying to get Beau’s attention for the longest while, every time he entered the club. At last, that night, he’d given a hint of jealous possessiveness regarding her.
Billy’s expression was open for anyone to read. Predatory, stark, his gaze raking her nude body and snagging for long moments on her breasts and bare mound. His chest beneath his orange University of Tennessee T-shirt had expanded. His arms had tensed, both displaying impressive bulges, but not a show he’d purposely given. He’d just been in a rush to reach her. Like a heat-seeking missile homing in on a hot target like the ones she’d watched on the news.
She’d never gotten that reaction from a man before. She’d been nude in many settings—at the club, at private meet ’n’ greets, at BDSM conventions—but she was used to polite interest, not the hungry intensity she’d felt all the way to her bare toes.
She’d creamed on the spot and then wondered how to hide the evidence, clamping together her thighs.
Beau hadn’t missed much. His quiet, watchful gaze had studied her and then looked at Billy. If she hadn’t noted the tension lending a sharper edge to his already taut jaw, she wouldn’t have known he was jealous.
That was something unexpected, because Beau McIntyre was a bit of a mystery. The other female subs at the club wondered about him, talked about him in the female locker room. They knew he was Mondo’s friend, and that increased his cred exponentially, because every girl wanted a go with Mondo and paid close attention to his attractive crew of friends.
She’d played with Mondo, been his demo girl a time or two, but only that many because he liked a sub who could endure a more intensive S&M session than she could endure. And truth be told, he scared her.
But Beau had always fascinated her. From his tall, buff frame, his bald head, and stark features, he was handsome enough to give her butterflies just looking at him. His heritage was a mixture of African American, Asian, and by his last name, Celt, but his expression was all inscrutable Asian. What he thought or felt was something he didn’t divulge. He posed a challenge.
For the longest time, she’d wanted to get him alone, get him naked and see whether he could manage to hide what he thought without giving a telltale twitch of his cock.
She wasn’t ambitious. Just curious. And accepting that invitation to Aiden’s sexy little get-together had opened more than one door.
Now she had two sexy men to contend with. What to do? She wasn’t sure how she wanted this to all go down, but she knew just the thought of one of them watching while the other had his wicked way with her was a fantasy that played over and over inside her mind.
The tension inside Billy’s Ford Raptor was thick enough to slice with a knife, but was it because of the confrontation with Beau at the bar, or because Billy was alone with her at last and didn’t want to proceed according to his plan? Was he wishing he’d cut straight to the fun and games?
Pansy hid a smile and glanced out the passenger-side window. She liked to play in public. Would he be appalled or into it? If this budding relationship was going to work, she needed to know.
The backlit sign for the restaurant appeared just ahead. She waited until he pulled into the parking lot and began to open his door before she turned in her seat and let the bottom edge of her dress ride up. Enough to give him a peak of her ass—if he needed reminding she’d gone commando.
Behind her, his breath caught, and she smiled, eager now to see just how far she could push him.
The concierge was a pretty teenager whose eyes widened as she gave Billy an up-and-down glance that ate him up like a sweet dessert. Since Pansy understood the reaction, she ignored the girl’s blatant infatuation and followed as the flirty twit and Billy chatted all the way to the quiet booth in a dark corner.
Pansy slid across the vinyl seat, her bare bottom cooling deliciously, and waited for Billy to slide in beside her. His thighs halted inches from hers, giving her polite space, but she wasn’t having any of that.
While the girl handed them menus and ignored Pansy altogether to gush over her handsome date, Pansy slid her hand between Billy’s legs and gave his impressive package a squeeze.
His chest billowed. His back stiffened.
The girl hovering over them glanced down and shock had her jaw dropping. “Um, I’ll bring you water.”
* * * * *
Be sure to check out the snippets on these other authors’ blogs:
Lissa Matthews
TJ Michaels
May 10, 2013
Guest Blogger: Alisa Anderson
True love. That mythical unicorn of emotion many swear doesn’t exist. And the rest of us? Constantly seeking, reading, hoping, validating the notion that one day we will either find it, or have already found it. Not to mention the constant prayer that some skanky home wrecking little bitch doesn’t try to pry it out of your cold, moist and clammy grasp. *grins cheerfully*
I believe in true love. Trust me, it’s easier NOT to believe, then I can justify settling for less. For a while I did. Years ago, when I was with my first serious relationship I thought I found it. I realize now a large part of it was him being my first, and he saw me thru some crazy shit and didn’t leave, and I know I’m not easy. In fact…the phrase two nuts short of a fruitcake often float around, but I ain’t saying who it’s about. It could be me. Perhaps. *stares at nails*
Mayhaps not. ANYwho…When reality set in, it’s obvious I confused lust with love. Haven’t we all done that once or twice? Or a million times…*sighs* I got used to sleeping with the same guy every night, or, in the illustrious words of that finer than a motherfucker Morris Chestnut from one of my all-time favorite movies, ‘The Best Man’ the way my pussy curved to his dick pretty much had a bitch thirsty as hell, lol. Brother could lay pipe, I will not lie. But was I in love? Nah. I was deep in lust. Sad thing is, I truly believe he loved me and would have probably made a decent enough husband too, but…I also know now that wouldn’t have been fair. I would’ve ended up hurting him, because in the end, I knew deep down from the very beginning, in that place where only you and god know the truth (praise jeebus) I couldn’t stay for the long haul.
And ps? Just because someone has been there from the beginning, or like in my case, has seen you though some dark times does not guarantee happily ever after. It just doesn’t. Brutal but honest. I remember reading how Janet Jackson and her husband Rene Elizondo were married 11 years, together even longer. And now they aren’t. For some reason I never thought they would break up. They just always….WERE, you know? Now, she is happily married to who I am guessing she really hopes is her soul mate. Here’s hoping, J. *holds up glass*
In all that time though, I’m sure she didn’t expect that Rene only wanted her for her money and in the end that’s what their break-up came down to. Moo-lah he wanted from her and sued her for. Mind you, we as outsiders can only speculate, but you get my point. It makes me wonder now what his agenda was all along. I hear so many celebrities say, he or she knew me when I was broke and didn’t have shit but you know what? A smart person, hell even an idiot can spot someone who’s got that “it,” or will soon get it, you know what I mean?
So what do they do? They invest in that person and stand by them, and then later when someone says you’re out for cheese, BOO YAH. Pull out that ace, baby. I knew you when you ain’t had shit, I can’t possibly have hidden agenda, right? Because gold diggers, after all are only hookers and hoes from the ghetto and from trailer parks and whatever else represents low-income and lack of class. Gotta love them stereotypes, folks. O_o
Now I know it’s not always true. Everyone is not always out for material gain, and it doesn’t mean that’s what happened to Janet and Rene, or anyone else, but bottom line? They weren’t soul mates, that much is clear. Familiarity and history does not necessarily true love make. It matters, but it should NOT be the only thing that sustains you. As I recall, familiarity often breeds contempt, but that’s another blog, eh? lol.
True love does exist. You can realize it ten years after knowing someone, or, god forbid, ten seconds. I don’t advise the latter, lol, but just because it hasn’t happened to me, doesn’t mean I won’t believe that magic and fairies don’t exist.
In my novella series, Give & Receive, this is the theme I think that drives the story. Lena, Danny and Ty really are caught in spider’s web of emotion. Hurt, anger, love, betrayal, heat, lust and downright lunacy just to name a few. She has to determine what she truly feels for both of these men, and they for her. Is it love? Is it just lust? Is she going to choose one, or risk everything and try to have them both? She’s what my one friend Moni luv calls a greedy bitch, so we’ll see how this all pans out.
So here’s my question to you guys. What IS true love? How do you define it? Is there truly only “one” true love? To me, it’s many things. It’s unconditional love. Your soul mate. Accepting all facets of a person. The dark side of a person and the skeletons that help define who they are. An extension of you. The sick feeling in your tummy you get wondering at any given moment what they’re doing, who they’re doing it with, or if they’re thinking of you and feeling the same way. You’re always anxious to see them, because when they’re not there, a piece of you is missing. It’s living a little inside of their skin and breathing them in. It’s a perfect line of coke. It’s euphoria. Explosive. Volatile. Carnal bliss.
Love is pain. It hurts. God it hurts. Like a jagged knife that repeats its tear across your insides. Dante’s 9th circle of hell. Anyone who tells you different is fucking lying their face off and you need to hit them in the eye with a bag of pork chops mixed with dirty, wet sweat socks. Repeatedly. And it’s important that they’re mixed up together. And dirty.
Love is angry…so angry…like when you’re so pissed you want to wring their damn neck, then throw them up against the wall and fuck the shit outta them the next minute later. And speaking of fucking? True love knows it’s not always about candlelight, merlot and making love. Sometimes its gritty and savage. Rage. Beautiful in its raw, primal need. This person can be all those things…with you, and you with them. And it’s ok.
It’s knowing you’re finally home. It’s sittin’ on the front porch, watching the sun go down, sippin’ red kool-aid in a ghetto jelly jar. Gotta be ghetto, cuz ghetto love is so much more groovy, lol. It’s a rollercoaster with a million foot drop…and right now I feel a verse. Let me wax poetic momentarily:
it’s a tiny kiss beneath your left ear,
the urgency to keep them very, very near,
it’s a whispered breath on the small of your back,
it’s saying I love you, and hearing it back,
it’s soft and sweet,
it’s savage and rough,
it’s feeling like forever,
will never, ever be enough.
Damn. I…um. Need a drink. Cranberry vodka on ice? *holds up glasses* I’ll pour.
Give & Receive: An Erotic Romance Novella
What would you risk to get what you wanted?
For Ty, Lena and Danny, they’re about to find out as they cross the boundaries from all things safe to an arena that will test love, friendship and loyalty. An arena that’s forbidden, taboo. and oh so tempting. In their world sex, money and excess are all a game of give & receive, were any wish can be granted if you just ask…
Tyler Malone: Life as a rock star is anything but boring. Money, power and fame is an addictive drug I crave that gets me off…every time. Millions of adoring fans, willing to do anything just for me to glance their way. What’s not to love? All I ever wanted was the one who wouldn’t. She’s the one person I crave more than the life, more than the money and power. More than anything…
Danny Blake: Some smart-assed reporter nicknamed me the “The Dark Prince,” because I shun the limelight. I prefer being behind the scenes, always have. Fame is now a choke hold around my neck, a dark, lonely road that never seems to end. The one light in my life is her. The person who matters above everything else. At one time I thought we could be happy together, but I lost that chance when I married someone else…
Lena Roman: Owner of the infamously notorious nightclub Sadist, head of a massive PR empire; nothing “Queen Midas” touches doesn’t turn to gold. Fiercely passionate, loyal and headstrong, she is the woman who loves them both, with a fiery heat that’s all consuming. Choosing between her best friend and the one she stupidly allowed at one time to claim her heart wasn’t going to be easy…but she had to, right? You can’t love two people at once…
Lena bit down on the fleshy part of her lip as her mouth parted open in shock and…arousal.
She felt Ty’s breath intake behind her and she could feel his surprise. But surprise at what? That he said it, or that he said it to her?
Did he mean what she thought he meant?
She let the visual of Danny with his beautiful, sensuous, firm lips around a veined, massive cock permeate her mind, feeling her mouth go dry as she felt heat shoot straight from the top of her head to her toes.
So wrong on so many levels, but Lena didn’t care. She knew she should have never gone along with any of this but it was too late to stop now. She tried not to spend time worrying about what she should do anyway. This was what she wanted to do. She made a pact with herself a long time ago to only answer to Lena, and to always please herself first. No one else mattered.
And damned if she wasn’t going to indulge.
Tonight…just for tonight, she would play Ty’s game. No rules…no boundaries. Just pleasure. The fact that Ty was the one giving it to her was something she would obsess about later. And probably tell herself a million times over just how stupid she was for giving in.
She wasn’t as obtuse as he thought she was either. She was more than aware of the sweltering chemistry, blazing between them for years. He had a magnetism hard to resist, even for her. She knew, if given half an opportunity, he’d fuck her senseless, and she would like it.
Senseless fucking, was reserved for groupies and whores who had nothing to lose because they had lost their pride long ago. Which was precisely the reason she never gave in. Until now, of course. Hypocrite.
It would be much too easy to fall into that pattern with him and she wasn’t looking to fuck up what they had over something physical, no matter how tempting. She knew she would be wise to remember that.
All that, however, was before this moment. This time. This night.
Now everything was different.
And what the fuck was going on between him and Danny? Danny looked like he wanted to run his car over Ty backwards and forward, and Ty looked like he wanted to get a rise out of Danny and make him do just that. Meanwhile she was on edge, like a taut bow string needing plucked.
And yet, here they all were.
Ty’s mouth slid down her neck and she was jolted back to reality. As she pressed further back into him, the currently stiffening hardness of his obviously impressive cock jutted against her backside. She arched back and became lost in his touch as he lightly bit down on her shoulder, thinking of a hundred different things she wanted him to do to her.
Even more that she wanted to do to him. It was all in her head, wasn’t it? Her fantasy. So why couldn’t she enjoy? She could be anything she wanted. She was the star of the show. She loved the attention, loved the adulation. She wanted the pleasure.
She grabbed Ty’s glass Dion had refilled and drank from it, using her tongue to lick across exact area she had seen him drink from. Danny gaze was hooded as he watched her drag her tongue over the top once more before taking another drink. When her tongue flicked out to lick her lips, his hands dug into his thigh and she watched his knuckles become stretched and tight .
“I haven’t thought about performing in a long time.” She said, to no one in particular. “I used to enjoy it.”
“Oh yeah?” Ty’s hands were caressing either side of her legs, his hands inching further and further up her thighs. Her skirt started to ride up a little, exposing more of her damp, sweat-slickened, toffee-colored skin. Danny’s throat went dry as he continued to look, unable to tear his eyes away. She moved over Ty’s lap ever so slightly and Ty’s guttural, low groan vibrated against her skin.
She was the hottest thing Danny had ever seen.
***
“What did you like most?” Ty’s voice was raspy, heated. He couldn’t believe he was still coherent at this point, let alone form complete sentences. All he could think of was burying his face between her thighs and savoring and tasting the sweet nectar of her pussy. He wanted to lap up every bit of scorching wetness he was feeling through the fabric of his pants and wasn’t too sure how much longer he could play this game.
Thank god she designed the place with all of this in mind. It held a naturally dark, fantasy element, appealing to those who wanted to…indulge a little further, yet still maintain their privacy. Simply put, you didn’t see someone else doing anything unless they wanted to be seen.
He would bet money she never expected to be the main attraction.
“I love the way it made me feel. In control. Powerful. It was like…” She was breathless now and trailed off, becoming lost in Danny’s eyes again. They bored into her soul with a fiery intensity that both intimidated and terrified her. And the sensation of feeling Ty beneath her while Danny watched them was driving her crazy insane.
“Like what, baby…tell me what it was like.” Ty pressed her hips down on top of him and began to move slightly, sliding his hips in a rocking motion.
“It was like…riding a dick. Setting the pace. Controlling the flow. Oh god….Ty…what in hell are you doing to me?”
Ty slid his hands under her ass and unzipped his jeans, far enough so that beautiful, thick cock sprang free. He hitched up her skirt from the back so that she wasn’t exposed in the front and pulled her back down, almost all in one movement.
They were now flesh to flesh, skin to skin, with nothing separating them now but free will. He was, but mere inches from being fully sheathed inside of her.
“What am I doing?” Ty murmured, repeating her question, his lips against bare back as the strap of the skimpy top she wore was finally shoved aside. His lips blazed a path down her spine as he paused to lick the salty taste of her skin to his mouth.
“I’m making it good for you, sweetheart.” His hands finally slid under her skirt from behind and managed to part her thighs.
“Tell me if you want me to. I want to make it so good for you, baby…but you have to tell me. What do you want, Lena? Do you want me to touch you…like this?” Ty’s fingers lightly brushed over her clit and she gave a moan, from deep in her throat as she began to throb within her lower belly.
As Lena arched her back and closed her eyes, Ty caught Danny’s eyes again and arched an eyebrow, silently asking if he had been tortured enough.
***
Danny’s expression, the agonizing twist to his mouth, the flash of his strange, silvery grey eyes, spoke volumes. He couldn’t stop now.
He made a strangled noise, deep within his throat and it was all he could do not to reach out and touch her. Just once. But he didn’t dare. He knew if he did he wouldn’t be able to help himself from ripping her off of Ty, pinning her down and fucking her himself.
Part of him was so resentful and angry it wasn’t him beneath her. At first. But he managed to choke down the rage welling up inside his chest, because if he was beneath her, he couldn’t be there.
Right in front of her. Witnessing her pleasure firsthand. It was that part of him that wouldn’t trade with Ty for anything in the world. Ty could physically feel her, yes. Danny could see her, her face, her body….her soul.
He was beyond the jealousy now. Now, he just wanted to connect with her, in any way possible. Force her to see him, acknowledge that what was between them was real and not some fucked up figment of his imagination.
***
Ty couldn’t lie to himself, either. This was no longer just about proving a point to Danny. It was about doing what he had wanted to do for years.
Stepping up, to try and claim a piece of her heart.
That didn’t already belong to Danny.
Available NOW!
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/give-receive-alisa-anderson/1114960917
http://www.amazon.com/give-receive-ebook/dp/B009I3RB3O
http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00CFAJQ2Q/ (Official Soundtrack Inspired By the Erotic Novella)
http://www.houseofalisa.com
http://www.facebook.com/alisaandersonbooks
https://twitter.com/bitchesbewritin
May 9, 2013
Guest Blogger: Kayelle Allen (Giveaway)
When my book Surrender Love came out in 2009, I was already working on its sequel. Little did I know that life would conspire against me in radical ways. Four years later, I finally released Forbid My Heart: A Luc and Rah Story. I’m working on two more, and will likely go beyond that in the series. One of the problems with releasing a series is that readers either forget what happened in the previous books, or they never read them in the first place. It’s up to you to remind them or clue them in without dumping huge amounts of backstory.
How do you tell readers what happened in the past without what is known among writers as an “info dump”? One way is to sneak in details throughout the story.
In the sequel to Surrender Love, I was facing an additional drawback. This was more than a short story, but just shy of a novella. I didn’t have much wiggle room. I also had an alien to describe. Tall order. I handled the intro to Izzorah by writing the opening portion from Luc’s point of view.
He wakes, and finds Izzorah beside him in bed, staring at him. That could be unnerving, but Luc found it amusing. Here’s a snippet.
Luc Saint-Cyr woke to the feel of warm lips against his. His Kin lover stretched out alongside him, one arm across Luc’s chest. In the dim light, Izzorah Ceeow’s green eyes shimmered like a true cat’s, the slitted pupils wide. Luc had his full, masculine attention, and it showed in Rah’s forward-facing, pointed ears. Izzorah might have been an eager cat awaiting a favorite toy to power up. The playful image made Luc smile.
There are several writer’s tricks in play here. This is the opening paragraph of the book, so it uses the characters’ full names as a way to show who they are. It gives the setting: Luc wakes to the feel of warm lips and his lover stretched out beside him. We assume they’re in bed, which they are. We know Luc’s lover is a Kin, but we aren’t sure yet what that means. We find out in the next few sentences. Izzorah’s eyes shimmer like a true cat’s, and have slitted pupils. That gives us a bit more of a description, then we discover he’s called Rah, and he has pointed ears. Luc sees him as a cat who is awaiting a toy to power up, and thinks the image is a playful one. He relaxes. There is a great deal of detail in the 74 words included here.
I could have written it this way:
Luc Saint-Cyr woke up in his own bed, and found his alien lover beside him. Izzorah had the same kind of glow to his eyes that a cat did, and his slitted pupils were wide. He was paying attention to Luc as if he thought Luc was his private toy and could hardly wait to play. Luc smiled.
This says essentially the same thing, but it’s stilted, it tells rather than shows, it’s passive, and it’s boring. Why settle for that?
Here’s one more paragraph, where Luc realizes that Izzorah is afraid of something. Notice the way it’s revealed:
The droop of Izzorah’s ears, his lowered gaze, and the way he picked at his claws revealed the true story. He’s afraid. But of what? “Rah, I told you the security system in this house is airtight.”
We see Izzorah as an alien here. His ears are drooping, and he’s picking at his claws. We also get an insight into Luc. When he sees that Rah is afraid, he seeks to reassure him. That tells us more about his character than merely writing: Luc told him not to worry.
This paragraph leads us into the story concept — which is Izzorah being afraid to go home, and afraid to even admit his fear to Luc. Rather than explain why, I let Luc worm the details out of Izzorah step by step, showing his patience and concern, and Izzorah’s trust to finally open up and talk.
All of this detail served to move the story forward, and allow the reader to discover the tale on his or her own. Readers don’t need an info dump to figure out what’s happening. If you let them explore your story world and see the characters interacting within a given situation, they are perfectly capable of discovering it for themselves. Not only will they enjoy it more, they will also look forward to the next book in your series.
Giveaway
Thank you for popping in to read today. As a gift from Kayelle, please accept The Tarthian Empire Companion Book, First Edition. This is 23 pages of images and info about Tarth and all the other places in the empire. When you click it, this will either offer you a download, or open in a new window, depending on your settings. To read it, you need Adobe Reader, available free. Here’s the download link: http://is.gd/seeTarthCity
Also available:
Antonello Brothers 1: At the Mercy of Her Pleasure (a Tarthian Empire Story)
When the mission goes wrong, risking pleasure is the least of her worries, but Captain NarrAy Jorlan can’t get professional thief Senth Antonello out of her mind — or her heart.
Loose Id: http://loose-id.com/antonello-brothers-1-at-the-mercy-of-her-pleasure.html
Antonello Brothers 2: For Women Only (a Tarthian Empire Story)
Khyff Antonello’s fragile trust of Mehfawni Ruh could be a response of love and a healing heart — or a ruse for revenge against her people.
Loose Id: http://loose-id.com/antonello-brothers-2-for-women-only.html
Surrender Love (a Tarthian Empire Story)
Not rebound, payback, loneliness, or great sex, and far beyond love. This is surrender.
Loose Id: http://loose-id.com/surrender-love.html
Other books by Kayelle Allen http://kayelleallen.com/Books.html
Where to find Kayelle
Homeworld http://kayelleallen.com
Unstoppable Heroes – Kayelle’s Blog http://kayelleallen.blogspot.com
Romance Lives Forever – Kayelle’s Guest Blog http://romancelivesforever.blogspot.com/
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May 8, 2013
Guest Blogger: Debra Glass
As an author of mainly historical romance, I often rely on actual people, places, and events for the inspiration for my characters. In my latest release, Lover for Ransom, the Reconstruction Era South served as the backdrop for my setting, Byrne’s End, a fictitious horse farm in Thompson’s Station, Tennessee.
Most Civil War romances center around spoiled belles and cavalier soldiers who live on vast plantations, but although cotton was king in Alabama and Georgia, in reality, Tennessee, especially Middle Tennessee, was known for sour mash whiskey, tobacco farming—and horse breeding.
Prior to the Civil War, horse breeding farms and racetracks dotted the lush landscape of rolling green hills. Almost everyone with means raised horses for either transportation, farming, or sport. In the early 19th century, Middle Tennessee (even more so than Kentucky) was the center of the horse breeding world.
Even personal disputes were often settled on the outcome of horse races and President Andrew Jackson was not immune. In 1806, he raced Truxton against Joseph Erwin’s Ploughboy and when a yet another difference of opinion ensued, so did a duel in which Erwin’s son-in-law, Charles Dickinson, was shot and killed by Jackson.
These frontier-era Tennesseans took their horseracing seriously.
One of Andrew Jackson’s good friends was a man named James Jackson (no relation) who was one of the founding fathers of my hometown, Florence, in North Alabama. Stories of James Jackson and his prized horses of the antebellum Forks of Cypress Plantation are legendary in my area. In fact, many of the winners of the Triple Crown series can trace their lineage back to James Jackson’s prized horse, Glencoe.
In Lover for Ransom, the hero, Ransom Byrne, is a former Confederate cavalry officer who was brought home to his family’s horse farm, Byrne’s End, to convalesce during an illness at the height of the War Between the States. While recovering, Ransom spreads sickness throughout his family and his teenaged sister is rendered blind as a result.
After the war, a guilt-ridden, Ransom resolves to hire a teacher from the famed Perkins School for the Blind to tutor his sister. Once Jenny had come to terms with her handicap, he’s vows to turn his back on horse breeding, leave Byrne’s End, and go West where he won’t be faced daily with the horrors his illness visited upon his beloved family.
When Yankee teacher, Cathleen Ryan, shows up with her suffragist ideas and plainspoken ways, Ransom is forced to keep a watchful eye on the unpredictable Northerner. In doing so, he rediscovers his zest for horse breeding, for life, and even for love.
And the story wouldn’t be complete without a couple of horsey secondary characters, one of which, tries to steal the show.
Excerpt ~
Their mirth didn’t appear to reach Cathleen, who kept turning anxiously toward the barn. She worried her bottom lip, a little habit Ransom had grown to appreciate.
His fingers itched to tear down that severe chignon and release her inky locks. Her gaze flicked to his. She drew in a quick breath and then looked away.
Charles emerged with String Bean. The gangly animal looked dumbfounded, but enthusiastic to finally be wearing a saddle. With his abundance of buck teeth and two overly large mulish ears, the horse reminded Ransom of one of the Bumpas brood that lived down toward Mt. Pleasant. None of the Bumpases were known for their looks—or their smarts. Neither was String Bean. But the animal was eager to please and had never bucked a rider.
Ransom glanced at Cathleen. There was always a first time for everything. Hopefully, today would not be one of those firsts for String Bean.
“Oh heavens!” Cathleen exclaimed. “He’s beastly!”
“Now, don’t go hurtin’ his feelings,” Ransom drawled.
Jenny frowned. “I hope Andy doesn’t come riding up. I’d be mortified if he were to see me on that nag’s back.”
“Ride him down!” Ransom called to Charles.
With delight, Charles climbed into the saddle and String Bean loped toward them. Ransom forced himself not to sneer at the horse’s ugly gait. He’d been sired by one of their most sought-after trotters, but alas, String Bean had gotten none of his father’s grace or speed. Neither army had wanted the gelding so he’d remained at Byrne’s End to live out a carefree life.
A good-natured beast, String Bean seemed blissfully oblivious to his ungainly appearance. He didn’t stop until he’d reached Jenny, where he nibbled her with his horse lips as if he were reuniting with a long-lost friend.
Jenny’s grimace turned into a smile as she cradled String Bean’s knotty brown head and ran her palms over his face.
Ransom lifted Charles down from the saddle. “Miss Ryan?”
Cathleen eyed the animal and shook her head. “I couldn’t possibly.”
Ransom held out his hands. “I’ll help you.”
Her lips pursed. “No thank you. Besides, I could never ride astride.”
At that, Ransom burst into laughter so hard he sagged against String Bean’s side. “You? Not attempt something forbidden to women? I’m disappointed in you, Cathleen.”
Her eyes widened when he let slip her given name, but she judiciously said nothing as she tilted her chin down to peep at him over the rims of her spectacles. Despite his familiarity, defiance sparked in those black pools. He widened his arms, and failing at suppressing a grin, Cathleen walked toward him.
“See,” he said, putting his hands on either side of her waist. “I told you I’d have you on horseback before long.”
“Oh, just hush up and put me on that infernal thing’s back,” she admonished, though the light never left her eyes.
With ease, he lifted her off the ground, hooked a hand around one leg and tossed her onto the horse’s back. She landed with an “oomph” and an errant lock of hair escaped her bun. She didn’t bother to sweep it back. Instead, she gripped the pommel with both hands.
Ransom slid one of her feet into the stirrup before skirting the horse to find her loose foot toeing blindly for its hold. With a chuckle, he guided her foot in.
“This is indecent,” Cathleen complained, but also refused to let go to adjust her rucked up skirts.
Yards of white-eyelet-trimmed petticoat stood out in vibrant contrast to the dull black of her mourning gown. Ransom warmed at the memory of seeing her bared last night.
“Well, I can’t say as you look like a seasoned horsewoman, but you’ll manage,” he jibed. “Jenny, tell your teacher how to ride like a Byrne.”
Jenny felt her way around the horse and placed a hand on Cathleen’s thigh. “Goodness gracious, Miss Ryan, you’re tense as can be. Relax. String Bean’s not going to hurt you.”
She groped for the reins and then offered them to Cathleen. “Lean back slightly and don’t keep too tight a grip on the reins.”
“This is not for me,” Cathleen protested, trying to hold the reins and the pommel at the same time.
Ransom laughed. “You’re up there. You might as well give it a go.”
Cathleen shot him a nasty look. “How does one maintain one’s balance?”
“One uses these,” he said—and squeezed her thigh.
Blurb –
Ransom Byrne has been ravaged by guilt since an illness rendered his little sister blind. The former Confederate cavalry officer has resolved to make amends by hiring a Yankee tutor who’ll hopefully restore order to his sister’s life. Once that’s accomplished, he’ll be free to leave Byrne’s End.
From the moment she steps off the train in Tennessee, Cathleen Ryan makes a startling first impression. With her feminist ideas, the irrepressible Bostonian quickly outrages everyone—especially Ransom. He deems the bespectacled teacher too uptight and prim for his tastes. Appearances, however, are deceiving. She tenders decadent proposals that shock and intrigue him, and sultry nights spent submitting to his every illicit request offer them both love and redemption.
But when her steadfast convictions attract the attention of dangerous men, Cathleen risks losing her chance of becoming more than just a lover for Ransom.
Inside Scoop: This nineteenth-century tale contains mild violence, spanking, sloppy puppy kisses, more spanking, fiery suffragette speeches and an attitudinal horse named String Bean.
A Romantica® historical erotic romance from Ellora’s Cave
Buy Lover for Ransom by Debra Glass in all ebook formats at Ellora’s Cave – http://www.ellorascave.com/lover-for-ransom.html
About Debra Glass
DEBRA GLASS is the author of over thirty-five books of historical and paranormal romance, non-fiction, young adult romance, and folklore. She holds an MAed with emphasis in history from the University of North Alabama.
She lives in Alabama with her real life hero, a couple of smart-aleck ghosts, and a diabolical black cat.
Visit her website at www.DebraGlass.com
May 7, 2013
Clips from from RT 2013
I’m back from the 2013 RT Convention! I survived, and I brought back books and goodies to give away. Give me a couple of days to sort through it all and bundle it. I plan giveaways for this site, and the Smokin’ Hot Firemen and High Octane Heroes websites. So be sure to sign up to get the blogs emailed to you so you don’t miss a thing!
The best part of RT is always the people—readers, bloggers, other authors. I saw old friends: Cathryn Fox, MK Merredeth, Eve Savage, and many more than I can think of at the moment! And I finally met in person friends I’ve known on line for ages: Phuong, Sharon Hamilton, Sabrina York, and Sarrana De Wylde. Again, sorry if I didn’t mention you here, but my mind’s a buzzin’ with everything that happened.
I finally met my editors at Grand Central—lovely ladies there! I spent a wonderful evening with Christina B at Samhain. Bianca D’Arc was there with her father, and I don’t think I’ve had a more wonderful dinner companion than Tom in a long, long time. 
If you’d like to take a peek inside the conference, my sister (Elle James/Myla Jackson) was playing with a new app that does these twitter video feeds. I HATE being on camera. And especially when I have to blabber very quickly. We solved that problem by letting me be her silent sidekick.
See for yourself (they are very, very short). The last one’s my favorite. We filmed it in the middle of a giggle fit. Click on the speaker icon in the upper left corners of the films to listen in.
May 6, 2013
Guest Blogger: Lavender Daye
Hi, my name is Lavender Daye and I write BDSM.
Does it sound like I’m in one of those support groups where everyone shares? Sometimes I feel like that when discussing my writing. Friends and relatives who aren’t readers give me raised brows and questioning looks.
But I’m tired of hiding what I write. I love my stories. To me, they’re modern fairy tales.
Picture this in your mind.
You are contentedly alone, fending for yourself in a job and a relationship with no spark. A man arrives in your life—a hot, handsome man with an attitude. He’s attracted to you and isn’t shy about explaining all the heated things he plans to do with you and to you.
Your face warms and somewhere lower, your body recognizes your soul mate, the man who will fulfill all your fantasies. No longer will you be required to make plans or decisions. Your personal Prince Charming will handle every detail of your life and satisfy all your needs while teaching you how to satisfy his. An erotic spanking here and there, handcuffs and a whip now and then, only make you crave more.
You allow him the pleasure of satisfying you in every way and he adores you.
Okay, so most women wouldn’t want to live in this lifestyle, but every now and then, it might be fun to completely turn over control to a trusted lover. The heroines in my books seem to enjoy it immensely and I enjoy writing the happily ever after. Really, now, shouldn’t every woman be the princess in her own fairy tale?
Find more about Lavender’s books at www.facebook.com/LavenderDaye or at http://www.bookstrand.com/lavender-daye
May 5, 2013
Guest Blogger: Diana Rubino
My “overnight success” took 18 years. I wrote my first novel at age 23, after a dose of reality in the brokerage business. This was the early ’80s, when executive-level women were virtually nonexistent in the world of finance. My first novel, largely autobiographical, as most first novels are, featured my heroine who made it to the top of a brokerage firm. It was continually rejected on the grounds that I had an axe to grind and of course I did.
After three more novels, which I consider practice at honing my craft, I wrote my first historical, The Jewels of Warwick, centered around Henry VIII and two fictional heroines. I have a strong spiritual connection with late medieval England, which is the basis for my enchantment with this place and time. Jewels took 2 years to research and write, with no internet. It came very close to publication with several romance houses, but missed the mark for containing too little romance.
When I finished Jewels, I scoured the history books for another legendary figure to write about. While I browsed the Cambridge Library stacks, a book snagged my eye. Lying, not standing, on the wrong shelf was Crown of Roses by Valerie Anand. It drew me like a magnet. Richard III is a central character in the story, and the author thanks the Richard III Society for helping her. Already hooked on Richard, his tragic death at 32 and his reputation as a usurper and a murderer of his little nephews, I joined this Richard III Society. As everyone else who has a story about how they “met” Richard, he fascinated me. I’d found the subject of my next novel! And it tied in perfectly as a prequel to The Jewels of Warwick. Titled Thy Name is Love, it made the same rounds of publishers, remaining homeless after several rewrites and seven years.
In 1999 with the Internet making my life so much easier, I queried the many E-publishers that had recently set up shop, and British publisher Domhan Books responded in March with an offer for my two historicals. Fortunately, Domhan also published print books. I then wrote a time travel, One Too Many Times, and a family saga set in New York City. I switched gears with the urban fantasy Fakin’ It, which won a Romantic Times Top Picks award, with a 4 1/2 star review.
I joined a local critique group and my work improved immensely with the critiques I received. My critiquing experience led the way to editing positions and publishing contracts with Eternal Press and Moongypsy Press. In 2009, I answered an ad in the Romance Writers of America magazine and signed with my agent, Jewelann Cone. My recent novels are currently being considered by the ‘big houses’ including St. Martin’s Press and Simon & Schuster.
Critiquing and editing gave me the ability to read my work as an editor, to tighten and polish, to add more emotion, to show instead of tell, and the opportunity to critique other authors’ work also made me a better writer.
Even though your first, second, third, or even fourth novel may never see print, not a word is wasted if it’s considered a learning experience. I also believe that you must write from the heart, and your passion will shine through in your work. I know there are many roads to success, but patience is the best way!
Abraham Lincoln has fascinated me since I was eight years old. I don’t know what got me started, but it might’ve been a book which I still have, titled The Life of Abraham Lincoln, Volume 1, written in 1895. When I was in 3rd grade, in the mid-60s (which shows how long I’ve been a Lincoln nut), my teacher asked us to bring a book to school from home, for a show & tell. My mother suggested I bring this Lincoln book, which even in 1966 was in bad shape—yellowed, stiffened strips of Scotch tape barely held the covers to the spine. With the wisdom of an 8-year-old that sadly, all of us outgrow, I demurred, saying, “This old book? She’ll think we’re poor!” My mother corrected me: “No, she’ll think we’re rich. Books like this are rare.” Then she proceeded to tape it up some more. Those 47-year-old Scotch tape fragments adhere to the book’s spine and pages to this day. The teacher, Miss Cohen, was duly impressed.
I still treasure that book to this day, and it’s one of many on my “Lincoln shelf” which holds books about our murdered president, his wife Mary, his assassin John Wilkes Booth and his family, the “Mad Booths of Maryland” and the conspirators who faced the gallows or years of hard labor because Booth, their charismatic leader, sucked these poor impressionable souls into his insane plot.
After writing 8 historicals set in England and New York City, I decided to indulge my passion for Lincoln-lore. I began researching in depth about Lincoln’s life, his presidency, his role in the Civil War, and Booth’s plans to first kidnap him, and then to assassinate him.
A NECESSARY END combined two genres I’m passionate about—history and paranormal. I joined The Surratt Society, based in Maryland, and attended their conferences and tours. Through the Surratt Society, I met several Lincoln/Booth/Civil War experts.
One lady I’ll never forget meeting is Marjorie “Peg” Page, who by all accounts except definitive DNA testing, is John Wilkes Booth’s great-granddaughter. My trips to Lincoln’s home and tomb in Springfield, Illinois, Gettysburg, Ford’s Theater, and the house he died in, Petersen House, brought me close to Mr. Lincoln’s spirit.
My travels also acquainted me with Booth’s brother Edwin, the most famous actor of his time, and his unconventional family. A recording of Edwin’s voice reciting Shakespeare on one of Edison’s wax cylinders still exists at http://www.britannica.com/shakespeare/browse?browseId=248018
My paranormal experience includes investigations at several haunted homes, restaurants and graveyards. I investigate with a group from Merrimack, NH, led by CC Carole, www.ccthehuntress.com. I’ve never seen a ghost, but I’ve received responses to my questions with my dowsing rods. Wishing I had my recorder with me, I made a ghost laugh at the Jumel Mansion in Harlem, New York City, (see the story and photos on my blog, www.dianarubinoauthor.blogspot.com)
Tragically, we’ll never hear Abraham Lincoln’s voice. But his spirit lives on. In my book, which is fiction—but we all know that novels are fictionalized truths—I gave Booth what was coming to him. He got his justice in real life, but in A NECESSARY END, he also got the paranormal twist he deserves. And I enjoyed sticking it to him!
I paralleled the Shakespeare play Julius Caesar in this story because in the play, Caesar was known as a tyrant to the Senators, who feared losing their power, as Booth feared losing the Confederacy. Booth always considered Lincoln the tyrant, hence his proclamation ‘sic simper tyrannis’ (be it ever to tyrants) when he jumped to the stage after shooting Lincoln.
Caesar’s Senators, Brutus and Cassius among them, conspired to stab Caesar to death on an appointed day. Booth recruited a group of like-minded disciples to aid him in his insane plot, at first to kidnap Lincoln, then to kill him.
By day, Booth was a Confederate spy and courier, taking dangerous missions so that his beloved South could fight the North in the war that tore the nation in two. But in this story, an even darker secret plagues him—he believes he’s the reincarnation of Brutus, the man who slew the tyrant Caesar, and Booth’s destiny in this life is to murder the tyrant who’s ravaged the SouthAbraham Lincoln. In obeying the spirit of Brutus, Booth devises a plot to assassinate the tyrant.
I wrote it as a paranormal instead of a straight historical novel because spirituality was extremely popular in 1865 and all throughout Victorian times. Mary Lincoln was a staunch spiritualist. So stricken with grief after the deaths of her boys Willie and Eddie, she hired mediums such as Nettie Maynard to visit the White House and hold séances in attempts to contact her boys from beyond the grave.
The extent of séances, table-tapping, Ouija boards, Tarot cards, and otherworldly activities in this era fit perfectly with the story I wanted to tell. We could never enter Booth’s head, but his insane behavior begs the question: was he truly haunted by a spirit who drove him to his heinous act that changed history forever?
You can contact me at :
www.DianaRubinoAuthor.blogspot.com
www.DianaRubino.com
http://www.facebook.com/#!/dianarubino
https://twitter.com/DianaLRubino
May 4, 2013
Snippet Saturday: Heroine’s First Glimpse of the Hero
Given the theme and the current weather conditions outside my hotel, I chose a snippet from True Heart. I’m in Kansas City attending the RT Convention. I packed for hot weather and only brought a light zip-up in case the evenings were cool. My only shoes are FitFlops. So as you can imagine, once the snow started, I was pretty much trapped inside.
With snow on my mind, I chose a snippet from the opening scene of True Heart. The heroine is moving into a remote cabin on the ranch owned by True and Lonny Heart. She’s managed to slip on ice on her steps just as True and Lonny are riding up…
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a free download of this book!
Two men plus one woman equals three bodies on fire…
True Wyatt’s hands are going to be full enough keeping the herd alive through the dead of winter. The last thing he needs to hear is that his brother Lonny has rented out their isolated hunting cabin to a reclusive writer—especially a sassy, disaster-prone brunette. Who has the time to babysit a city girl until Spring?
With a deadline looming, erotica writer Honey Cahill is looking forward to six distraction-free weeks to finish her next book. However, between Lonny’s flirty sensuality and True’s hard-edged intensity, the Wyatt brothers set the stage of her imagination for a winter of wicked delights.
The fire that destroys the cabin, though, is as real as it gets. Forced to seek a bed under True and Lonny’s roof, the temptation to experiment—all in the name of research, of course—is overpowering. One night in their arms doesn’t feel like enough; it feels like more. Particularly with one cowboy who fires all her cylinders…
Warning: It’s a Devlin ménage—expect men with stamina and not an ounce of mercy to behave like sex gods, and the lucky woman to love every minute of it. A little domination goes a long, long way…
Honey had never seen a man look so angry and flummoxed at the same time. And that shouldn’t have been the case since she managed to ruffle men’s feathers faster than a hurricane. It was a talent.
She came up on her elbows in the mud and glanced at the papers cartwheeling across the yard. If you could call it a yard. The space around the cabin was more of a rough-cut clearing.
Nothing fancy, Lonny had warned her. He hadn’t over-represented the small two-room cabin with an efficiency kitchen and tiny bathroom.
And yet the rugged utility of the place appealed. The cabin smelled of pine sap and wood smoke, and when she’d stood on the porch the view of the mountains around her took her breath away.
The view from the ground right this second wasn’t that bad either.
“I’ll get those,” Lone Wyatt said. He gave her a quick glance, raised an eyebrow at his brother, then dismounted in a fluid, graceful move that had her envious of every flex of muscle that delivered him to the ground. Could any two brothers be more alike and conversely so different at the same time?
True Wyatt moved with rugged force. She couldn’t help wondering how that economy of motion and deliberation translated to how he moved in a bed. True wore “Cowboy” like some men wore Armani.
Her gaze crept upward from his scarred boots, past legs encased in sturdy, mud-stained denim, to a dark, dirt-streaked coat that fell to his knees. He looked like he’d stepped out of an old western movie. Even the cowboy hat, broad-rimmed and shadowing his deep-set eyes, emphasized his individualistic, rugged appeal.
Her glance flew back to Lonny, who chased the newspaper clippings and her own dog-eared notes across the clearing.
Lonny was a sweetheart. A flirty man with wicked intentions in his dark green eyes. She’d already decided she wouldn’t turn down an invitation to go to bed with the man. But that was before she’d clapped eyes on the brother.
She came back to True to find his gaze narrowed on her face. All brooding darkness and hard-edged features. Same dark green eyes, weathered skin and dark brown hair as the brother, but his expression set him apart. Made him seem even older than the thirty-six years Lonny had volunteered.
Lonny was in his late twenties, still footloose and straining against obligation. Facts she’d gleaned easily the first time they’d met. After all, she was a writer and a master at pulling information from a person without him realizing just how she did it.
Something told her big brother wouldn’t be nearly as easy to pump for information. “Pump” stuck in her mind, and her brain again leapt to sexier pursuits.
She’d gathered a lot of information during her brief encounter with little brother at the diner in town. She’d arranged to meet her original landlord to pick up the keys to the hunting cabin she’d rented for a writing retreat. Lonny had been hovering over the counter, sweet-talking a waitress, when he’d overheard her dilemma. After accepting his invitation to coffee, where she’d winnowed out his life story, she’d also managed to acquire an invitation to stay in the Wyatts’ hunting cabin, situated in a “lonesome high meadow”. She’d smiled at his attempt at waxing poetic, amused that he was trying to impress her after hearing she was an author.
Likely, he’d hoped that she’d use some of her pain-staking research into human sexuality and desire to show him how truly grateful she was for his last-minute save. Not that she felt under pressure to provide a little sexy quid pro quo.
Lonny was easy on the eyes and built like a brick house. Very like his brother in that respect. Although she was pretty sure by the way his gaze burned over her that True didn’t need the benefit of her expertise.
Pulled between two forces of nature, her attention was drawn once again to the tall brooding man who stood over her, his thickly muscled legs braced apart, the impressive bulge at the apex holding her attention longer than was polite.
Since he hadn’t offered to help her up, she cleared her throat, pushed a half-filled box off her lap, and struggled to sit.
A hand dangled in front of her face. A large hand with thick callused fingers.
Her heart hit a speed bump before hammering faster inside her chest. She accepted his firm grip and came up more quickly than she’d expected. She swayed against his chest before she got her feet underneath her. Then she had the whimsical thought that if he leaned forward just an inch, her mouth would graze the canvas material of his duster coat just over his heart. True was a big man.
“Thanks,” she said breathlessly.
Slowly, he eased his hand from hers then took a step back, his glance going back to her car. “We’ll finish the unpacking. Those boots of yours aren’t made for walkin’.”
“Really?” she said, glancing down at the pretty cowboy boots she’d bought for her retreat that now had a thick layer of mud crusted around the bottom.
“Why do you think you fell on your ass?” He cleared his throat then stomped away.
Honey didn’t know whether to take his comment as an insult or not, but she liked the sound of his deep growl. It rasped along her nerves, stirring long-dormant desires she’d sublimated in order to write the kind of surly, dominant men her readers seemed to love. Fictional men were easier to say goodbye to.
She stepped forward to help him, unwilling to just stand by and watch him do her work. However, a twinge of pain pulled across the muscles of her lower back, and she grimaced, reaching back to rub the spot only to discover her backside was covered in mud. Her grimace deepened.
“Did you hurt yourself?” Lonny asked, striding toward her with his hands clutching her papers. His gaze trailed down her body to where her hand rubbed.
“Just a twinge,” she said. “What with the heavy lifting—”
True snorted and stepped past her, his arms filled with three boxes stacked high.
Her gaze followed him, wondering whether she should call him on his rudeness or let it pass. Something made her want to challenge him.
“He’s always like that,” Lonny said, smiling. “Don’t take any offense.”
“I didn’t. Much,” she murmured. She aimed a tight smile his way. “Would you two care for a hot cup of coffee when you’re through?”
“We don’t have time to chit-chat,” True said, stomping right back out the door and down the steps.
She stepped into his path, forcing him to halt or slam right into her. “Did I say something that offended you?”
True’s hands came up, gripped her waist and picked her up to set her aside.
Her jaw dropped. Heat filled her cheeks. When he walked away, she glared at Lonny. “He always does that too?”
Lonny’s eyebrows were high, a little smile curving one corner of his mouth. “That’s not something I’ve ever seen him do. Whatever you said to him—”
“I didn’t say a thing.”
He shook his head. “Something sure as hell set him off. I better go give him a hand before he tries to walk right through me without the courtesy of moving me first.” He handed her the papers he’d rescued and followed his brother to her car.
Feeling off-balance because she didn’t understand what had angered the gruff cowboy, or whether he’d simply taken an instant dislike, she wandered up the steps and into the cabin, scuffing off the mud on the doormat before striding inside. The boxes were stacked near the kitchen table where she’d decided to set up her office. The rectangular surface already held her laptop and portable printer.
She wondered what they thought of her array of boxes. There were reams of paper, a couple filled with research, but she’d shoved clothes and camera equipment into the rest because she’d been in a hurry to escape the telephone when she’d left her snowbird house on South Padre Island.
True stomped in again and set three more boxes beside her. “These are the last and kinda light,” he muttered.
Probably held her underwear. The thought tugged a grin from her mouth.
His gaze dropped to her lips for just a second, and then it swept her body—so quickly she might have mistaken the once-over for a blink. When he’d finished, he tipped his hat and stomped out of the house.
Maybe he always stomped. Might not have a thing to do with her.
Lonny hovered in the doorway. “If you don’t mind, I’ll come by later to check in and see if you need anything.”
Did she need anything? A hug? A smile to assure her she hadn’t grown a second head or a wart on her nose. “I’d like that.”
Lonny flashed a grin then hurried down the steps. Big brother was already riding back up the ridge, his broad shoulders stiff.
Still, the sight of him, his sturdy body outlined in the snowfall that had begun sometime in the last few minutes, made her chest hurt. He wore loneliness like he did his long, dark duster.
She closed the door, shutting out the cold and the view. A shiver reminded her she’d better check the wood-burning furnace again. It was time to get to work anyway.
She hadn’t come all the way to the Colorado mountains in the middle of winter to pine over a man she didn’t even know and probably wouldn’t like if she did.
Honey bent and tugged off box tops until she found the ones holding her favorite knit scarf, another pair of clean jeans and a gray sweater. She shucked off her boots and muddied clothes, dressed in the clean ones and wound the sky-blue angora around her neck. Then she hunted for the bottle of scotch she’d packed, knowing she’d need it to get to sleep as the anniversary approached.
She poured herself a finger of amber anesthesia into a coffee cup she found in the small cupboard over the sink and settled down in front of her computer.
Her glance strayed one last time out the window beside the door. Snow had begun to fall steadily in fat flakes. Not that she minded. She’d wanted solitude.
Looked like she’d get it too—other than the occasional visit from one sexy young cowboy.
* * * * *
Be sure to check out the snippets on these other authors’ blogs:
Lissa Matthews
TJ Michaels
May 3, 2013
Guest Blogger: Sascha Illyvich
With the upcoming winter release of my book ENDANGERED, the first in my Nights of Lust series, I thought I’d do some pre-release hype for the book and start talking about it. I’ve seen some great reactions to the book so far, for those who have beta read it are loving it.
Let’s start with the premise of the book though.
Endangered is the story of a man searching for himself, finding salvation only in the love given by the woman who loves him, and her companion. He slowly learns redemption comes at a price but is he willing to pay that price?
Desperate to get him off the suicide cycle he’s stuck in, Livía will do anything to save the one man who can return her soul. Following his essence over three centuries has brought her heartache until this lifetime when he’s the farthest from his self-destructive urges ever. Seizing her opportunity, Livía kidnaps Joséf and convinces him to do the one thing she knows he’ll never abandon: save the life of an innocent child.
Can the love two women willingly offer give Joséf the peace he needs to become the man who can stop The Syndicate?
I’ve got a similar series dealing with the wolves and Faery courts represented by the Corvisiero Literary Agency but we’re going back and forth on edits because my level of emotion in the book Marisa picked up could be deeper.
With Joséf and ENDANGERED, the core of that book revolves around a LOT of anger I felt at the time of its conception. What I wanted, what Joséf thought he wanted, turned out to be not what either of us needed. Yes, he mimics my actions, only taking them deeper and harder. His health is only crappy due to bad habits, which can be fixed through proper diet, love and learning to deal with the wolf inside. Oh and a healthy dose of Livía and Isabella. I gave my hero two heroines in this book because honestly, the emotions Joséf feels are so deeply ingrained, so relatable to the readers (hopefully) that he needed someone to hold his heart and heal his mind at the same time and no one person can deal with the amount of damage in him with such a clear mind. The one lover can calm certain aspects, but after a while, Joséf’s struggle with himself and the outer world around them wears on just the one person thinking emotionally. Livía is his emotion, she is his love, his life. Isabella in this story starts out as his rational side.
Love stories, romance novels in particular, are really about the heroine’s journey as I’ve learned from my mentor. That being said, Livía must go through a transformation of her own, one she struggles with because of Joséf’s stubbornness. She must rise above her own worries and weaknesses to conquer his world so he can help her defeat her outer worldly demons.
Forced to work in tandem, Joséf and Livía must correct her mistake, because the trick she used to get him to stay leads to Joséf learning to open his heart, something I needed desperately to do at the time I wrote the book.
They always say write what you know. Well, romance novels are emotional and that’s how I roll!
For Joséf, there is more to the world than saving the big picture and more to life than anger and self-hatred. He only has to look at the world in Livía’s eyes.
Look out for ENDANGERED, coming in Winter 2013 from Red Sage!
