Delilah Devlin's Blog, page 467

Guest Blogger: Cathryn Cade

Will Tying Them Up Tie Me Down?

Thanks, Delilah for hosting me! Not every day I get to hang out with a Penthouse Pet, lol.

I’ve noticed a very interesting bent in my romance heroes lately. The sci fi pirates and the contemporary alpha males in the 2 new series I’m writing. They, um, wanna tie women up.

Where the heck did that come from? I mean, I’ve been accused of writing BDsm in my Orion Series. Don’t really think that’s on the mark.

Okay, so Captain Steve Craig of Her Commander does use soft restraints on his spunky half-Serpentian guard Tessa. And maybe he captures her in the dark … once. But it’s all in good, sexy fun.

Oh, and maybe Commander Daron Navos in Deep Indigo does use mind-control on his intern, Nelah Cobalt, but she gets it. Kinda takes come hither to a whole new level.

Well, and so what if Tryon Jag in Tyger, Tyger, Burning Bryght demands that Calla be his submissive for the duration of his mating shift?

Oh, wait. I see where this is going now. Huh. I’ve been writing mild BDsm and didn’t realize it. (Note: Yes, I use caps on the BD and lower case on the sm ‘cause I consider the first part sexy and the second part not for me)

Of course my Hawaiian Heroes contemporary paranormal romance series is hot vanilla. And I’m sure I’ll do more romance without kink. After all, I don’t want to tie myself to just one sub-genre of romance.

But, in 2013, readers, hang on to your panties.

In The LodeStar Series, we’re taking a fast space ship to the newly settled planet of Frontiera, with space magnate Logan Stark and his two brothers. The three grew up rough, and now these alphas have one approach to life and sex—they’re in charge. Hmm, their feisty females may have something to say about that. Hope it’s ‘Yes!’

In Club 3, three alpha weightlifters from Portland Oregon who own a gym and fitness center decide that maybe, given their sexual need to dominate, they should open another kind of club. The kind that’s private and opens up when the sun goes down. Mm-hmm, that kind.

I’ll be self-pubbing LodeStar starting in winter 2013. Club 3 will debut with a digital first publisher. If you’d like to know when they come out, sign up for my Newsletter.  It’s easy, and will show up in your email box ONLY when I have a new book out.

Best,

Cathryn Cade

… red hot romance!

Goodreads, My Website, Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, Samhain Author Page,

And sign up for My Newsletter for a chance to win goodies!

I’m in Penthouse! (And a Question!)

Well, not in the way you usually expect when you imagine hearing those words! A story I wrote for Kristina Wright’s Duty and Desire collection for Cleis Press was picked up by Penthouse Magazine as a “Bedtime Story!”

I sent my daughter on a mission yesterday while I worked. You can’t find that magazine in any store in our nearby small town, so she went to Little Rock. Now, I don’t know if I mentioned my daughter is pregnant…? Well, anyway, she spotted a copy in Barnes and Noble in Little Rock in the “Men’s Interests” section of the magazine rack. She ended up having to climb two shelves and reach far into the back. If I’d been there, it would have been a YouTube moment.

The fun didn’t end there. I get the magazine and my mom sticks her head out of her office, “Where is it?”

I handed her the magazine and she’s pawing through the pages making faces until she gets to my story. I wonder how many authors have moms like that, huh?

Anyway, I’m sooooooo excited. It’s a 6-page spread with three very cool illustrations! Take a look!

So, the question I have is…

I know most fathers and mothers would groan if their daughters rushed through the door saying that. Looking back, can you imagine yourself ever doing that? Was there a boyfriend who might have made you a little wild and daring? Were you ever in that frame of mind where posing nude for publication would have been okay? Would you do it now?

Saturday Snippet: Emotions (Contest)

Today’s Saturday Snippets have a common theme of emotion. Since I need to be ruthless like a warrior today (I’m nearing my deadline for a new full-length novel!), I chose the opening scene of the second of my “Vikings in Space” stories, Enslaved by a Viking. To me, there’s nothing more frightening or sexy than a man pushed to his limits. Poor Eirik is there. See the woman who will be the focus of his powerful anger. I love this scene. Loved writing this book. Someday, I hope to get back to my Vikings in a galaxy far, far away…

 Since I don’t have a downloadable copy of this book, I’ll offer a free download of another futuristic story I’ve written, Warlord’s Destiny. Post a comment today, and  you’ll be entered to win it!

 

“Probably one of the most erotic openings I have encountered in a book…if readers are looking for a book with smoking hot sex and a really unique and fresh premise, this is it!” ~ Debbie’s Book Bag

His suffering….

Though proud and strong, Eirik, heir to the Ulfhednars kingdom, found himself seduced and taken from his homeworld by a bounty-hunting vixen, who sold him into slavery. Purchased by a wealthy, Consortium-backed brothel, he is kept at a heavily guarded and secure breeding facility, where he is forced to feed the lustful whims of Helios’s elite at night. He bides his time, waiting for a chance to escape and get his revenge on the woman who betrayed him…

Her satisfaction….

Once a sex thrall, Fatin earned her freedom through service. Now, as a bounty hunter, she is determined to earn enough to buy her sister’s papers from the same brothel she escaped. For this, she abducts a brutishly handsome, breed-worthy specimen from the Viking planet and delivers him to auction. But her desire for justice and his desire for freedom may consume both of them in a passion neither wanted—or can resist.

Eirik tried not to breathe too deeply. The rotten, sour smells of his dark, dank prison already made his skin stink. He didn’t want the awful stench inside his lungs or belly.

He hadn’t seen the other prisoners, not after they’d been herded like cattle through a chute once the hatch had been opened at the side of the ship and his keepers applied prods to their backsides to move them out in single file.

With only brief impressions of his new home, of searing heat and blinding, harsh sunlight, he’d shielded his arm over his eyes and stumbled down the gangway, through the iron-barred alley that disallowed any thoughts of escape.

He’d been led to this cell, deep inside an enormous stone building. A brief glimpse of an open arena, and then he’d been shoved down two flights of narrow stone steps.

Once they’d slammed the solid door and slid the eye-level window closed, he’d been left alone, no sounds penetrating his prison other than the hum of the light above him, and the sounds his own body made.

His thoughts drowned it all out, screaming inside him. He’d wanted to beat his fists against the door, rail at his captors, but he didn’t know if anyone watched him, and wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of knowing how close to abject despair he was coming.

Hel, he’d even suffer Fatin’s derision, her cold, calculating touch, just to feel or hear another human being.

He didn’t know how long he’d been here, there being no window, and no way for him to know how the natural passage of time was counted on this planet, but he knew it was long enough that he’d stopped believing anyone would come to his rescue.

They must think me dead, he thought. Like Father, lost on the ice. One day waving as he skimmed away across the frozen blue water, never to return. Only Eirik wasn’t lost. He wasn’t dead.

A key grated in the lock at his door, pulling his glance. The heavy door swung open, and two sweet-smelling women strode inside, dressed in short, white skirts. Their breasts were bare. Leather sandals with straps laced up to their ankles. Both were dark-haired and ombré-skinned. Like the witch Fatin. They carried linens and an urn of water.

He pressed a hand against the wall of his cell and pushed up from the floor.

“There’s a guard outside the door,” the one nearest him said. Her dark, sloe eyes glittered as they raked his body. “We’re here to bathe and dress you.”

Pushing past them would earn him nothing. He clenched his fists at his sides and held himself still as they brought their clean, sweetly fragrant bodies close enough to strip away his clothing and bathe him like a mother might a child. Only their hands lingered over his sex, and although he might have wished otherwise, his cock unfurled, coaxed by their hands and then their lips to deliver his body’s nectar. Or so they called it.

Dressed now, and more relaxed, he allowed another woman just outside his cell to lead him through a winding warren of corridors until they climbed a final set of steps and she pushed open the door, letting sunlight drench them.

Eirik closed his eyes, lifting his face to the light. But he wasn’t allowed to savor the sensation. A prod behind him reminded him not to dally. He stepped out onto a platform in the center of the arena. A stage surrounded by thousands of men and women dressed in long robes and jewels.

A blended roar of voices greeted him. Women’s excited chatter, men’s laughter. He emptied his mind of the indignity, of standing in the center of the stage, hands rising, voices shouting. Then one voice separated from the throng, for it was nearer and familiar. His head swiveled toward the sound, caught the triumph glittering in Fatin’s eyes as she met his gaze for a moment, then turned back to the crowd, accepting rapidly escalating bids.

A woman near the front of the stage shouted something that sent the crowd into gales of laughter.

Fatin turned toward him, warning him to behave with her cold, black gaze. When she was within arm’s reach, she pulled at the tie on his hip and unlaced it, letting the short, skirtlike garment the women had dressed him in fall away.

He stood nude, his body exposed to the air and the rapacious gazes of the crowd. His head cleared of the numbing despair, all focus homing on Fatin’s slender frame. No matter the outcome of today’s shameful events, he vowed to have his revenge. One day, Fatin would be the slave; one day she would know the shame he felt.

Something of what he thought must have transmitted. Fatin’s look of triumph faded, and her eyes became dark mirrors of doubt.

Slowly, his body warmed; his cock expanded. The things he would do to her, the many ways he would take her, filled his mind. No woman would ever know the depths of depravity he would visit on her body.

Frozen, her gaze locked with his. Eirik let the smile tugging at his mouth expand.

Be frightened, sweet Fatin. Be waiting for me.

* * * * *

Be sure to check out the snippets on these other authors’ blogs:

Lissa Matthews

Rhian Cahill

Shelli Stevens

Eliza Gayle

Leah Braemel

Myla Jackson

Caris Roane

Jody Wallace

McKenna Jeffries

Taige Crenshaw

HelenKay Dimon

Shiloh Walker

Lauren Dane

TJ Michaels

Guest Blogger: A. M. Griffin

I’m taking over Delilah Devlin’s Blog today (bwahahaha)!

First the introductions:

I’m A. M. Griffin, a wife who rarely cooks, mother of three, dog owner (and sometimes dog owned), a daughter, sister, aunt and friend. She’s a hard worker whose two favorite outlets are reading and writing. She enjoys reading everything from mystery novels to historical romances and of course fantasy romance. She is a believer in the unbelievable, open to all possibilities from mermaids in our oceans and seas, angels in the skies and intelligent life forms in distant galaxies. She has multi-publications in other genres under a different pen name.

When I was trying to come up with topics for today’s blog, the first thing that popped into my head was girl-on-girl sex.

Why? *shrugs* Cause it just did.

I never set out to have girl-on-girl action included in my new EC debut release Dangerously Mine, but for some strange reason it just happened.

You’ve probably heard a lot of authors talk about their characters as if they were alive and somehow had a mind of their own. I can honestly say that it’s true.

My character Princess Sa’Mya was supposed to be my heroine’s nemesis. I needed someone privileged, bitchy and irritating. Princess Sa’Mya is all that and more.

During one of my favorite scenes, Princess Sa’Mya was making Eva wash her hair. Yea, the privileged bitch characteristic was in full effect. Anyway, Princess Sa’Mya wanted to know why her betrothed, King Taio was more interested in the human Eva, rather than herself.

I had intended for Sa’Mya to be curious about a species that she had never encountered before. They were going to go back and forth with bitchy banter. You know the normal girl catfight stuff.

It was going perfectly as I intended it to until Sa’Mya reached out and touched Eva’s clit. Once that happened, it was like I couldn’t stop my fingers from flying with lightning speed across the computer keyboard.

I kept saying things like “This girl is such a freak!” and “Why is she doing that?” and of course, “Is she about to do what I think she’s about to do?”

My poor husband who was sitting next to me had this look on his face. Much like the same look you would give someone before having them committed to the Looney Bin.

The end result is hot as hell. So much so that in the follow-up book (which is Princess Sa’Mya’s story) there’s another girl-on-girl scene.

Mind you, my stories are all M/F sci-fi romance, but for some reason there’s just a freaky twist. Maybe that’s why I ended up with Ellora’s Cave, where my freakiness can be supported.

Here’s an excerpt:

“I wonder what he sees in you,” Sa’Mya said.

She leisurely skimmed the water’s surface with her fingertips. Recognizing a rhetorical question when she heard one, Eva didn’t respond. “I am offering him all of this.” Sa’Mya ran her wet hands down her voluptuous body.

Her double-D breasts hung ripe and full. Her neatly tapered waist led to full-sized hips, a round ass and, of course, long, shapely legs.

“You have the body of a child.” Sa’Mya sneered.

I could apply a small amount of pressure to her windpipe.

Clearly the princess didn’t know anything about fighting. Talking smack while your back is to an opponent was a no-no.

“It’s clear he can’t keep his hands off you. I smell your scent on him every time he comes near me. Gads. When does he not have his cock in you?”

Eva chuckled. That was her intent, to mark Taio with her scent, hoping all the other females would get the idea and go home.

Sa’Mya whipped her head around to face Eva. “Let’s see who’ll have the last laugh when I bond with him.” Sa’Mya smiled. “I think I’ll give you to the guards, to do with as they please.”

Eva straightened on the ledge. “He’ll never share me with anyone else.” Eva met her eye for eye.

“You think not?” Sa’Mya pushed off the ledge with a malicious smile across her lips. She turned around to stare at Eva. “You’ll never be able to compete with me.”

“I’m not trying to compete with you.” Bitch.

Sa’Mya took a step closer, her eyes downcast. “What does he find so interesting down there?”

Eva snapped her knees together.

“Let me see.” Sa’Mya demanded.

“No.” Eva swung her legs around to propel herself to a standing position.

“Make one more move and I’ll have you taken to the guards right now.”

Eva stopped, her legs propped on the ledge. “Taio wouldn’t let you.” But unfortunately he wasn’t here right now.

“Of course.” Sa’Mya tilted her head. “He would be upset if his precious royal guards ran through his pet.” She shrugged. “But then the damage would have already been done. Wouldn’t it?” Sa’Mya’s unblinking, gold-speckled eyes rested on her.

Eva froze. This bitch was crazy enough to follow through on her threat. Eva wasn’t worried that the guards would rape her. She would kill anyone who tried. It was Taio she worried about. She didn’t want to cause any more trouble between her and the guards.  Eva lowered back onto the ledge, dangling her legs in the water.

Sa’Mya sauntered forward until she was standing in front of Eva, putting a hand on her knees. She pried her legs open slightly. Sa’Mya squinted and focused on the nest of dark curls.

“It looks normal. Is there something about it that would appeal to him more?”

Another rhetorical question, Eva kept her mouth shut. Sa’Mya trailed her hand from Eva’s knees to her folds, parting them with two fingers.

“What exactly are you looking for? If you haven’t noticed, I’m a female.”

Sa’Mya ignored her. “What is this?” Sa’Mya pointed to her nub that jutted out from between her exposed folds.

“It’s called a clit.”

“What does it do?” Sa’Mya placed a finger on it.

Startled, Eva jumped. “It doesn’t do anything.” She flicked Sa’Mya’s finger out of the way. “All human females have one, it enhances sexual feelings.”

“I want a better look. Spread your legs wider.”

“They’re wide enough,” Eva ground out. She had as much as she was taking from the bitch princess. The inspection was more extensive than Taio’s.

Sa’Mya dug her nails into the skin of Eva’s knees. “Either you can open them or I’ll have one of the guards hold your legs open for me.”

Eva thought on it for a second. This was embarrassing enough.

Oh how I want to kill this bitch.

“When Taio left me in your care, I highly doubt this is what he had in mind,” she said.

Sa’Mya’s nails dug deeper into her flesh. “Take it up with Taio when he returns.”

Oh and I will.

She opened her legs.

Sa’Mya smiled triumphantly. “A clit, you said? What an odd name.” Sa’Mya inspected the little nub. “How does it ‘enhance sexual feelings’?” The tip of Sa’Mya’s finger ran across the nub again.

“Nerves, it’s got nerves in it,” Eva said through clenched teeth. “And it’s very sensitive.”

Sa’Mya pointed and eyed Eva’s slit, tilting her head to the side. “Look there, such a tiny opening for such a large male. When he fucks you, does it hurt?”

Surprised, Eva asked, “Have you ever been with a male before?”

Sa’Mya closed her eyes. “Slave, did I give you permission to ask me questions?”

I am going to kick this bitch’s ass.

Opening them again, Sa’Mya slid her thumb inside Eva’s sheath.

Eva jumped back. “You’ve gone too far. What do you think you’re doing?”

“I want to know what makes you so special.” Sa’Mya leaned in closer and pushed her thumb deeper inside. “This is too tight. He must be huge, how does it fit in here?”

Nope. This nut is definitely a virgin.

“It just does.”

Satisfied with her probing, Sa’Mya put her hands on Eva’s knees, spreading them wider. She kneeled on the submerged bath bench, her nose inches from Eva’s pussy.

Sa’Mya leaned in closer and inhaled sharply. “Maybe he’s attracted to the smell. It is quite intoxicating.”

Sa’Mya had spent the better part of the day using her. So she shouldn’t feel guilty about what she was about to say.

“He likes the taste.” Nope, no guilt at all.

“What did you say?”

 

Enjoy! Griffin

Blurb:

After aliens invade and conquer Earth, Eva is transported to a distant slave trading planet. Escape and freedom are her only priority, but none of her martial arts training prepared her for what she faces. She finds herself enslaved to the warrior King Taio. Eva’s drawn to this sexy alien male who ignites her heart and body.

Taio is disgusted with the idea of owning a slave—until now. From the moment he sees her, he knows Eva is his for the taking. Torn between lust and duty, Taio knows nothing will stop him from protecting his little warrior.

Find buy links at http://www.amgriffinbooks.com/books.html

You can find out what else I’m working on by visiting: http://www.amgriffinbooks.com

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Two New Books!

Just popping in to share some news. I’ve been a little quiet lately because I’ve been writing like my hair’s of fire, trying to wrap up a book that’s due next week. I have two short stories featured in two brand new Mammoth collections! If you’ve never read one of these massive volumes, you’re in for a treat. ”Red Dawn” is a brand new story about a woman pioneer on Mars. The other is a story that first appeared in Cleis Press’s Carnal Machines. Enjoy the excerpts, then hit the links and see the fabulous lineup of authors in both books.

* * * * *

Love conquers all… including natural disasters and alien invasions in this futuristic fiction collection.

Amazon | Barnes & Noble

From my story, “Red Dawn”…

The transport arrived amid a whirl of dust kicked up from the barren yard beside the house. The gritty air nearly obscured the moon, Phobos, as it made the first of several orbits for the day. The aircraft hovered, framed by the uneven curves of the asteroid, and then set down with a thud that shuddered the planks of her front porch, vertical engines stalling then shutting off altogether. The dust slowly settled.

She’d been sweeping, preparing the cabin for the transport’s arrival. As with every element of the Company’s schedule, it arrived precisely on time. Although prepared, a flutter of anticipation tickled her belly. She set aside the broom, wiped her palms against the sides of her sturdy blue work pants, and descended the stairs, eager to meet the shipment.

A man dressed in a gray Company coverall climbed out of the cockpit and strode toward her. She pasted on a smile. “Welcome.”

His sharp gaze swept her little cabin, the golden fields beyond it, and then finally rested on her. “You Mary Bledsoe?”

He likely wondered how someone of her stature had managed to pass the physical tests to qualify for farming. She stiffened her spine to add a few centimeters to her small, wiry frame, and met his gaze with her usual calm, chilly stare. “I am.” She bit back a sarcastic, Who else do you think I could be? Every one of the thousand colonists had been handpicked and transported by the Company—they had a monopoly on Martian transportation and industry.

His mouth twitched, but he kept his gaze steady. “I have your shipment, and I’ll need your signature on the bill of lading.”

She nodded. “I’ll need to inspect.” She’d received notice of the contents of the shipment via the comm-console situated in the cabin’s main room shortly after claiming her homestead.

Although the fields had been pre-planted and her new home fully furnished, there were still some items, especially the perishables, that needed stocking: replacement blades for the combine sheltered in the barn, pallets of foodstuffs, clothing and fuel packs…and her mate.

Trying not to appear overeager to see him, she waited as the transport commander’s crew scurried to let down the rear ramp and roll out the pallets. With well-trained efficiency, they stacked them beside the porch. She counted the pallets with their quick-wrapped goods, signed for delivery, and then shoved her hands into her pockets to hide the fact they were beginning to shake.

The commander’s mouth firmed into a straight line. “Did you receive training in the use of the B-Mod collar?”

He knew she had. Otherwise she wouldn’t be here, already in possession of a land grant.

She gave a curt nod. “Yes. I also signed saying I knew there were no guarantees for my safety or his willingness to work. If we don’t suit, if he proves stubborn, then I’ll return him.”

“Just don’t get too attached, ma’am. You have enough on your hands without coddling one of these rejects.”

The brusque quality of his voice surprised her. Was he truly worried? Should she be more concerned?

He handed her the chain with the controller for the prisoner’s behavior modification collar, a thin ID tag with a recessed button on one side, the B-Mod chip. She slipped it over her head and followed him to the side of the transport. The guard inside the vehicle opened the door.

The prisoner scooted on the seat toward the edge, hands still in manacles, then slid to the ground beside her.

Heartbeat rising, she gazed up into a face set in grim lines. Blue eyes, cold as ice, sparked with some deep emotion as he stared back.

He was larger than she had expected. Surprisingly so. Prisoners built like this one were generally shipped to Company loading docks or to the arena. Built like a gladiator, she studied his broad chest and wide shoulders. His arms and thighs were deeply muscled. “You’re sure he’s mine?” she asked, turning toward the commander who’d fished a key from his pocket to unlock the prisoner’s handcuffs.

The pilot’s grunt and the flinty glare he gave the prisoner said he too had some reservations. “His collar matches the invoice. Guess they thought you might need the extra muscle.”

Anger flashed at his comment. She’d had enough of men thinking she wasn’t up to the rigors of Martian prairie life.

Her hand still gripped the B-Mod chip. She let it slip slowly away, remembering her training. Show no fear. As long as she had the chip, she had control.

* * * * *

The most enthralling annual collection of erotica by far with more than 40 pieces of short erotic fiction that you won’t want to put down. This bound-to-blow-your-mind collection comes from both acclaimed writers and exceptionally hot newcomers from every corner of the world.

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From my story “Dr. Mullaley’s Cure”…

I’d been warned that the doctor was a bit eccentric. That he dabbled in machinery and had been ostracized by others in his profession for the lengths he went to please his patients.

“You’ll never find another employer,” I was told. “Not once they see your only reference is Doctor Mullaley.” The mad Irishman. The charlatan who promised cures to bored housewives and whose waiting room hadn’t been empty since I arrived for my first day’s work. If I hadn’t already been turned away at every other respectable physician’s practice, I might have heeded the advice. However, those warnings only served to stir my interest.

I was intensely curious about the nature of the doctor’s cures, and even more so about the conditions he treated, but they were only spoken of in whispers and never in the presence of an unmarried woman. Which made me wonder why he’d hired me. Not that I complained. One glance at his tall rangy frame, frosty blue eyes and dark, slicked-back hair, and my misgivings evaporated.

However, my curiosity about the man and his practice wasn’t to be satisfied at that moment because the doctor waved me toward the reception desk where I worked at fitting in patients who walked in without an appointment. A task I found akin to cinching in the waist of a corset. There was only so much ribbon one could pull before something gave.

That something was the inimitable Mrs. Davies. She arrived in a dudgeon. Cheeks flushed, eyes a little wild. It was a very balmy afternoon, and the painstaking curls at the sides of her cheeks had wilted and were stretching toward her jaw like earthworms. I couldn’t help staring while she tapped the counter with her finger insisting her needs were of the highest import. If she didn’t receive a treatment that afternoon, somebody would hear about it.

At wit’s end, I gave her a false smile, said I’d find the doctor, and escaped down the corridor to the treatment rooms.

The corridor was as handsomely appointed as the waiting room with rich oak paneling below the rail, and burgundy brocade above it. But gaslight sconces were placed so far apart that shadows loomed between the doorways.

I paused at the first room to listen, hoping to hear the low timbre of the doctor’s voice. Faint moans came through the door, but since they didn’t have an urgent edge, I hurried to the next and pressed my ear against the wood.

Hands curved over my shoulder. “Pardon me, Nurse Percy.” The doctor firmly pushed me to the side and strode into the room.

Glancing around his tall frame, I spotted Mrs. Headley who lay on a table that tilted with the lower half split in two.

My jaw sagged as I noted that while she was clothed in a sack-like gown, Mrs. Headley lay bared from the waist down, her legs strapped to the split “legs” of the table. Her fingers dug into padded handles at the sides. Most curious, there was a long, slender trough running from a tank latched to the ceiling, very like a toilet’s reservoir. The trough emptied into a funnel, which ran into a tube. The tube passed through a device with turning wheels that clicked like a clock’s inner gears, and then ended at a nozzle that spurted water in rhythmic pulses toward the juncture of Mrs. Headley’s thighs.

How odd, I thought.

Mrs. Headley moaned. Her gaze roved restlessly until she lighted on the doctor. “Please, Raymond, I can’t take much more. I’m very sure I’m ready for the next stage of my treatment.”

The doctor stood between me and Mrs. Headley so I couldn’t see what he did, but then he aimed a frown over his shoulder. When he turned back, I entered the room and shut the door behind me, staying quiet as a mouse. He turned off the nozzle. The rhythmic splashes stopped, but wet slurping sounds filled the silence.

“I feel…nearly…oh, the agony…oh, doctor!” Mrs. Headley gave a choked little scream, her upper body arching on the table before settling again. Her flushed cheeks shone with sweat, but the smile she gave the doctor was so filled with gratitude I felt a stirring of something akin to pride for the doctor’s skill.

Guest Blogger: Elle James (Contest)

Cinderella Complex Anyone?

How Many of us dreamed of one day marrying a prince, of being lifted out of our poor beginnings and transformed into a beautiful princess? As we matured into young women we gobbled up romances about women who fell in love with a Greek Tycoon or an Italian shipping magnate. We have a fascination with the rich, but being wealthy doesn’t necessarily guarantee happiness.

I worked that angle in the new series I started called the BILLIONAIRE ONLINE DATING SERVICE.  My heroes have all made their fortunes and now find that they want love and marriage to a special someone, but the special someone is illusive when you have the fame of fortune. Most women are after them for their bank accounts, not their hearts. My heroes are stuck and can’t find dates with real women who aren’t looking to land a billionaire with a fat bankroll. BILLIONAIRE HUSBAND TEST is the 1st book in the series and tells the story of one billionaire who hasn’t forgotten his poor roots and wants a woman who isn’t after his money.

Ever wished you’d married a billionaire? How would your billionaire have made his billions? Comment for a chance to win a download of TARZAN & JANINE the first book in the TEXAS BILLIONAIRES CLUB Series by ELLE JAMES and DELILAH DEVLIN.

Billionaire Husband Test

Billionaire Online Dating Service Series

Dec 2012

 Amazon | Barnes & Noble | All Romance Ebooks

About the Author:

Elle James aka Myla Jackson spent twenty years livin’ and lovin’ in South Texas, ranching horses, cattle, goats, ostriches and emus. A former IT professional, Elle is proud to be writing full-time, penning intrigues and paranormal adventures that keep her readers on the edge of their seats. She has 31 works with Harlequin, self published works under pen name Elle James, over 40 works with other publishers including Samhain, Elloras’ Cave, Kensington and Avon and 18 works self-published under pen name Myla Jackson. Now living in northwest Arkansas, she isn’t wrangling cattle, she’s wrangling her muses, a malti-poo and yorkie. When she’s not at her computer, she’s traveling, out snow-skiing, boating, or riding her ATV, dreaming up new stories.

Happy New Year!

Just a quick note from me to you. I’m raising a glass.

Thanks to my online friends who join me here to play—you keep me jazzed to seek my keyboard every morning. Wait…drinking…

Thanks to all who bought my books—you provide me the means to stay at home and live my dream of being a full-time writer. Glug…glug…

Here’s hoping you all find happiness, good health, and a little more gold in your pockets this year. Where’s my bloody keyboard!

Sláinte! Cheers! ~DD

Guest Blogger: Kathy Ivan

NEW BEGINNINGS AND SECOND CHANCES

As I sit here staring at a blank screen, I’m thinking about what I’ve done over the past year and all the things left unfinished.  A brand new year is upon us, and I don’t want to fall into the same quagmire of partially-finished things of years past.

I always start the year with great intentions; plans to do more, do better and finish everything I start.  That never-ending diet that goes off the rails faster than you can say “chocolate.”  The gym membership to go along with said diet.  The manuscript I promise myself will get finished, as soon as I’ve turned in my current WIP.  Trust me, it never happens.  I have so many books in various states of writing, I’m never sure which one to work on next—so I end up starting something new.

My paranormal novella, Second Chances, happened that way.  I was writing a romantic suspense single title.  Things were flowing, the plot and mystery worked.  It’s not like I had writer’s block of anything.  I just had a dream.  A vivid, full color, complete to the last detail dream.  A sensual love scene between two people who’d been together for a long time and loved each other to the depths of their souls.  An explosive, sexual and out-and-out, over-the-top HOT dream!  At the end of the dream there was a twist I wasn’t expecting (but isn’t that the way with dreams—they take on a life of their own).

I thought about that scene/dream all of the next day, playing it over and over in my head.  After working the day job, when I finished, I sat down and started writing.  Within a couple of hours, I had written the entire scene from my dream.  It felt good.  But it was really short, definitely not long enough to do anything with.  So I sent it to my critique partner, just to see what she thought.

She loved it!  She’s rarely surprised but said that the ending did just that—but in a good way.  Then she asked, how did they get to this point?  What brought these two people to this place?

We all know how a writer’s mind works; I had to figure out the “why.”  Why these two?  Why Destiny’s Desire Lodge?  What did Ryan’s recurring dreams mean?

Before long, Second Chances was born, a paranormal romance novella,  revolving around fulfilling second chances and dreams that are bigger that we can imagine.

My hope for you in the coming New Year is love, joy, laughter, and fulfilling all the Second Chances that come your way.

A firefighter in Denver, Ryan Jackson still grieves the loss of his brother who died almost two years earlier on Christmas Eve. He thought he’d gotten past the loss until he began having dreams about his dead brother. In the dreams his brother asks him for something–impossible.

Ryan’s wife, Rose, knows something’s wrong. For the last several months Ryan’s grown more withdrawn and distant. She loves him and knows he loves her, but doubts begin to creep in. She’s determined to find out why her husband is withdrawing from her and win him back–no matter the cost.

An early Christmas gift, an unexpected trip, and haunting dreams. Can the love shared between Ryan and Rose overcome grief and guilt and lend a little magic for a second chance at happiness?

EXCERPT FROM SECOND CHANCES:

Rose walked around the dining room, putting the final touches on the table.  Flowers and candles, even a bottle of white wine.  Long stem crystal glasses next to the good china.  Dinner was ready.  She’d stopped at Ryan’s favorite Italian place on the way home, picked up all the foods he loved.   Though she was no slouch in the kitchen, the horrendous hours she had put in all week left little time or energy for cooking. And besides, she wanted everything to be extra special tonight.

Soft music played in the background, the strains of the classical piano concerto wafted from the speakers.  Soothing and romantic music setting the stage for the evening to come.  The lights were dimmed and tall taper candles cast a warm glow across the dining room.  Perfect.  She’d done her best to set up a long-needed romantic evening with her husband.

Something was bothering him, kept him on edge for the past few months.  She hadn’t pressed.  He’d tell her whatever it was when the time was right.  Still she worried.

Is he unhappy?  Am I not enough anymore?  The insidious doubts niggled at the back of her mind, managed despite her best efforts to creep into her head each day.   She tried to ignore them, push them away, but the fear still managed to insinuate itself into her thoughts.

I can’t lose him.  He’s my life.  I’ll do whatever it takes, fight whoever I have to fight.  I’m not giving up on Ryan.  On us.

The front door opened and Ryan strode through, paused a moment when the soft strains of Mozart floated across the air.  She watched him inhale deeply and a smile curled his lips as he dropped his gym bag by the console table in the entry hall.

“Honey, I’m home.”

Rose laughed as she always did.  He said the same words to her every single day when he came home.

“Hey, stud.”  There was a little extra sway in her walk and not just from the four-inch heels she wore.  The soft dove-gray dress nipped in at the waist before flaring out at the hips into a tulip skirt that swirled around her legs.  She met him halfway through the living room.

Familiar hands slid around her waist, pulled her forward against his body.  Anxious to feel his strength beneath her fingers, her hands slid up his shoulders and around his neck.  Tilting her head up, she leaned in closer.  A flutter of excitement danced inside her at the spark in his eyes.  Maybe he still loved her.  Maybe she could win him back.  In almost painful slow motion, his head lowered.  Finally, their lips met.  Her mouth opened to deepen the kiss.  She loved the feel of his lips, the slide of his tongue, the tingle that shot straight through her core to the very heart of her at his touch.  Sighing she leaned further into the kiss.  Heavens above, how she loved this man.  Her hands threaded through his dark hair, still damp from his shower at the gym.

He pulled back, breaking the kiss to stare deep into her eyes.  One brow quirked, a habit of his she loved.  Sexy.  “What’s going on, hon?”

“Does something have to be going on?  Maybe I just wanted to have a romantic dinner with my husband.”

“So, I didn’t forget anything important—like your birthday or our anniversary?”  He laughed, wiping his brow in mock terror.

She slapped him lightly on the chest.  “You better not be forgetting my birthday, bub.”

He inhaled again deeply followed by an appreciative growl.  “Something smells great.  Eddie’s?”

“You bet.”

“Have I told you lately how much I adore you? You’re the best.”

Rose stared up into his face.  The doubts she’d had earlier crowded back into her mind.  Did he mean it?

“I love you too, Ryan.”  Her hand lifted to brush against his cheek, her thumb slid down curling against the pulse point in his throat, felt the rock steady beat beneath the pad.

“Let’s eat.  I’m starving.”  His voice broke the silence, and she started to lower her hand.  Grasping it, he raised her fingers to his lips, pressed a kiss into the palm and folded her fingers inward, as if catching it inside her closed fist.

This can’t be over, she thought.  He still loves me.

Rose stared up into her husband’s face and a wave of something passed over her, sending a shiver down her spine. Chill bumps tingled across her skin and she remembered the old saying her granny used to tell her whenever that had happened as a child.  Somebody from the other side just touched you, child.  They’ve sent their love.

“You know, I think dinner can wait a bit, don’t you?  I’m suddenly hungry—but not for food.”  Ryan bent and nudged his shoulder into her midsection and swatted her on the backside as he swung her into a fireman’s carry.  Jogging toward the master suite, his laughter filled the hall.  Hung suspended over his back, her squeal of protest turned to laughter.

You have to admire the view, she thought, watching the sway of muscles as he carried her through to the bedroom.  Even hanging upside down over his shoulder, the man was magnificent.

Falling onto the bed in a tangle of passion and laughter, she vowed to find out what had stolen away her husband’s happiness and to bring it back. . . no matter what it took.

BUY LINKS

Amazon | Barnes and Noble | Smashwords | Print book

About Kathy Ivan

An avid reader of all types of romance, Kathy writes both romantic suspense and paranormal romance.  Kathy makes her home in the heart of North Texas doing her best to deal with the Texas heat.   She’s a member of Romance Writers of American (RWA) and the Dallas Area Romance Authors (DARA).   Her debut romantic suspense, Desperate Choices, won the 2012 OKRWA International Digital Award for suspense.

Guest Blogger: Ann Jacobs

Book Videos—are they worth it?

Impressive if they’re done right, book trailers may be a valuable tool to grab attention for a new release. I’m not certain they translate directly into increased sales—but then I haven’t found a way to determine whether any of my promotional efforts directly affect my bottom line. Still, I like trailers.

They can be pricey, though—particularly if live video is done by skilled professionals. Purchased trailers using stock photos and inexpensive music tracks can still cost upward of $150—a lot upward depending on the graphic artist/promotion company that you use, as well as the cost of photos and music the artist chooses.

Recently I discovered Windows Live Movie Maker (free from Microsoft) and found how simple it is to produce simple videos using it, from start to upload. The only other software I use to size, crop and modify stock photos—and occasionally to create a fancy text sign or two—is Adobe Photoshop. (It’s certainly not free or inexpensive, but I already had it. If I had needed to buy something simply to do these functions, not to play with for my own amusement, I would get Photoshop Elements or use one of the many free software selections online to perform these functions.)

So I can make my own book trailers. What materials do I need to make them?

Book cover—the tone of the trailer needs to reflect the cover art since it’s     generally included as the beginning and/or ending frame.
Some background music. I troll the web looking for free—or royalty-free—MP3s that reflect the tone of my books: dark, lively, romantic, etc. When I find free ones, I download them for possible future use.
The story I want to tell in the video. I usually follow the content of blurbs I’ve already written for the book, which saves time and effort that it takes to select the photos and write the text.
Some stock photos, either free (preferable) or royalty-free. (For a one-minute video, you’ll need the book cover and five to seven photos that illustrate the text on each frame. If you can’t find a suitable photo, you can write text on a blank screen and apply a text effect to it.)
A few hours (how many depends on how much you play with your story line and how much you decide to crop/modify your images—the sample above, for my upcoming book, WILD ONE, has three frames that I created in Photoshop to use more than one image on a frame and to add fancy text. It took a while!)

Over the course of eight or nine months, I’ve accumulated a bulging folder full of stock photos, most of which I’ve found for free. I’ve bought and stockpiled a few Jimmy Thomas RNC cover shots and cropped them for use in trailers. And I’ve taken and filed away a lot of photos that I’ve taken, but I won’t use those that include people or readily identifiable landmarks unless I have releases—I don’t care to get sued.

Making book trailers is fun, a nice break from writing words. Since I write mostly contemporaries, putting videos together for them isn’t too stressful because I’ve been able to find a lot of free material that works to illustrate particular frames of my books. I doubt it would be nearly as easy to locate trailer material for historicals because of costuming and so on. If I wanted to do a video for a futuristic or a shifter story, I’d probably have to create many of the frames from scratch—something that would require a lot more graphic art skill than I have.

Happy trailering! Video trailering, that is!

Ann Jacobs

http://annjacobs.net

Follow me on Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/authrannjacobs

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WILD ONE, book 3 of my Caden Kink series, coming Jan. 4 at Ellora’s Cave Publishing

Saturday Snippet: Beginnings

For me, the opening of a story is the hardest part to write. I spend forever making sure it sparkles. Enjoy the opening gambit in the game between Raelie and Bryce.

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

a free download of this book!

 

One adventurous little submissive is just what the bosses need…

Raelie might be a submissive in search of just the right Dom, but she’s not the kind to sit back and wait for the right man to happen. When she gets the chance to fill in as Bryce Caldwell’s executive assistant, she decides some subtle seduction is needed to see if he dominates the bedroom the same way he does the office.

Bryce can’t keep his mind off the sexy blonde sitting just outside his office. Especially not after the security cameras in the copier room catch Raelie “misappropriating” office property. A little disciplinary action leads to a whole lot of complication while he tries to find out whether she’s the right assistant to fulfill a special vacancy. Add a second round of interviews, and suddenly, Bryce is finding out he’s not the only one who’s not sure who’s really in charge.

The little red button on the telephone blinked twice. And like a dog trained to recognize the shake of its dinner bowl, Raelie Wood’s attention was arrested. Deep within her core, her body began the steady ascent toward full-blown arousal. A thousand butterflies settled in her stomach, madly fluttering their tiny wings. Her breaths shortened to excited little gasps and shivered through her breasts. The juncture of her thighs swelled with lush promise — a pulse thrumming there, slow but insistent.

She’d waited two whole days for a summons. Two days while she’d quietly attended to the office duties, proving why she’d been bumped up from the floating secretarial staff to fill in for Bryce Caldwell’s executive assistant while the woman was away on her honeymoon.

Raelie had seen to every duty on his EA’s meticulous checklist. This morning, she’d already typed the scribbled notes he’d left in her inbox the previous night when he’d finally left the office. Not that she’d seen him leave. Because she didn’t want to seem overeager, she’d left her desk at precisely five o’clock each evening. Even though she’d wanted nothing more than to stay late, strip naked, and slip into her boss’s office to show just how diligent a secretary she could be.

The thought of his shocked stare trailing down her nude body was a delicious one; however, she knew that wasn’t the way to get what she wanted from her no-nonsense employer. For once, she’d exercise a little subtlety.

The light blinked again, and her gut clenched. Time to start the next stage of her campaign.

She gathered her pad and pencil and quietly strode to his closed door. Just before she opened it, she slipped the left side strap of her bra off her shoulder from beneath her neat white sleeveless blouse. Ready now, she gripped the knob with a sweaty hand.

Her boss sat behind his desk, his face tilted toward whatever report he scanned, but looking as yummy as ever. Remote, cool … in control. She wondered if he looked as effortlessly powerful and together when he rolled out of bed in the morning, or if he donned that cool, professional persona the same way he did his designer clothing.

Watching the way his lips thinned into a firm, straight line as he read, she imagined that same stern look as he stood over her while she knelt with her hands clasped behind her back. A smile teased her lips. Heat pricked her nipples.

The restraint of the last few days broke. Despite the EA’s note about him disliking meaningless chatter, her mouth opened and a breathless “How may I serve you, sir?” floated from her lips.

* * *

Bryce forced himself not to react to the tantalizing phrase which pretty much summed up exactly what he wanted from the woman — service. A month’s worth ought to get her out of his system. A textile-free month where nothing but their sweat and his cum came between their bodies.

From beneath his eyelashes, Bryce saw the tiny smile Miss Wood quickly suppressed and wondered what had amused her. He cleared his throat and turned his gaze to the young woman whose cheeks flushed a pretty rose as she took her seat in front of his desk.

Morgan hadn’t been wrong. His business partner had been the one to suggest the slender blonde fill in for Kathryn. Miss Wood was competent enough, easy on the eye, but there was something a little extra, something intriguing about the woman whose body didn’t fidget nervously beneath his stare.

Yeah, he had to hand it to Morgan — his friend could spot a woman ripe for a little training from a mile away.

The chance to spend time subtly observing her, testing her, was one he hadn’t been able to resist. He’d been without a woman too long. Procuring just the right partner had proven a little more complicated than he’d imagined. Who would have guessed that finding an unruly submissive would prove such a challenge?

His glance raked her from head to foot quickly and with discretion, because he wasn’t ready to betray his interest. Straight California-blonde hair was pulled into a loose knot at the back of her head, making her look like a high school girl playing dress-up for the prom.

Cute and neat, professionally groomed, still he would have preferred to see her hair fall to the middle of her shoulders or in a sexy ponytail — a handy rope he could use like reins as he rode her from behind. He pushed aside that thought because he knew it might be some time, perhaps never, before he earned that privilege.

As he assessed her appearance for more hints of an ability to pay attention to the details, he admired the way her grey pencil skirt kept her knees pushed demurely together. The crisply pressed, white sleeveless blouse was barely creased, her nylons a pleasing skin tone, her shoes a demure dark pump.

Everything in its place — except for the lavender band sliding down her arm. His gaze snagged there for a moment.

“Was there something you needed, Mr. Caldwell?” she asked in her breathy little voice, which had him imagining her whispering just like that in his ear when he shafted deep. His cock swelled, and he eased apart his legs beneath his desk, smoothed his expression into a cool mask, and met her wide blue gaze.

A glint of something sparkled there for just a moment. Long enough to warn him that not all was what it seemed with the delightful Miss Wood.

Because he didn’t think well when he was aroused and worse when he was sitting, he pushed off his chair and began to pace. “Have you arranged Cafferty’s showing?”

“For four PM, sir. Rance Cafferty said the client was in town and would accompany him this time to take a look at the office space.”

“Good, good.” He stepped around his desk to pace the length of his office to the door and back. “We’ll want his approval before we proceed with offering the rest of the spaces. His client has first priority.” He turned his gaze when he passed close.

She kept her head bent toward her notepad, white teeth sinking softly into the center of her bottom lip.

He strode closer on the second circuit and stopped beside her.

She glanced up, her baby blues skimming up his abdomen to his chest before reaching his face. Pink blossomed again in the center of her cheeks.

“Did you set the meeting with the plaza crew?” he murmured, enjoying watching her from above, envisioning more intimate moments when her face would be level with his hips. “We’re making changes in our suppliers and need to make sure it doesn’t affect our delivery date.”

She blinked once then dropped her gaze and turned her notepad over. She trailed a finger down the copy of the schedule she’d printed to have on hand, just as he insisted Kathryn always do. “The meeting’s set for Thursday at five. Morgan said he’d have the site foreman and the lead electrician there.”

She called his partner “Morgan”, but reserved “Mr. Caldwell” for him. He didn’t know if that was a good thing or not. His brain looped on the thought. Then his gaze fell again to the purple strap, and because he was becoming impatient with his lapses, he slid a finger up her arm and tucked the silky ribbon back inside her blouse.

 * * * * *

Be sure to check out the snippets on these other authors’ blogs:

Lissa Matthews

Rhian Cahill

Leah Braemel

Myla Jackson

Caris Roane

McKenna Jeffries

Taige Crenshaw

HelenKay Dimon

Shiloh Walker

Eliza Gayle

Lauren Dane

Felicity Heaton