Delilah Devlin's Blog, page 482

Guest Blogger: Selena Robbins

Thank you Delilah Devlin for inviting me and my two main characters, Alex Donovan and Maddie Saunders from my latest contemporary romance, WHAT A GIRL WANTS to be guests on your blog.

I hope your readers enjoy my conversation with my two characters, as they sit and talk to me about their experiences in the book I created for them.

Selena:   Thanks for jumping out of the book to join me today. Maddie, let’s start with you. What was your journey like in  What A Girl Wants ? 

Maddie: The plane trip from toHawaii was uneventful—

Alex: I have to interrupt here. Uneventful? Is that what you call it?

Maddie: Come on, Alex, even you have to admit it was classic. Besides, you laughed at the prank I pulled on you. Anyway, as for your initial question, Selena, I enjoyed the adventures you created for us, especially the humorous moments. Of course, what’s a romance without heartache, physical pain, angst and a ton of conflict?

Selena:   Are you complaining about all that?

Maddie: Me? Never. I’m not a complainer, especially to my creator who has total control over my destiny. I may be a little impetuous—

Alex: A little?

Maddie: Okay, maybe more than a little. But as I told you off the pages, Alex, Selena gave me those traits. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

Selena:   Your turn, Alex. How would you describe was your journey in this book?

Alex: There’s no other book I’d rather have been created in, even with all the pain we both went through. Maddie’s right, the humor helped a lot, especially when it got real serious and sorrowful.

Selena:   If you each had a free day and your only mission was to enjoy yourself, what would you do?

Maddie: You created me, Selena, what do you think? *wink* Okay, seriously, I do love my career as a travel journalist, and I’ve been to a lot of exciting locales, but coming home and staying put for a few days, sitting around in my comfy lounging pants and a certain someone’s sweatshirt I pinched from him, no make-up and hanging out with my friends, enjoying a glass of wine and chatting about our adventures is always a blast.

Alex: What Maddie said. There are some things we both agree on, that’s one of them.

Selena:   Alex, what’s your philosophy on life?

Alex: Live without regrets.

Maddie: Life’s a beach and then you have sex on it. Not that I’m a nymphomaniac or anything, but, after all the angst, conflict and pain and the dysfunctional family you created for me—again, it’s not a complaint, just stating a fact—I have to rely on my sense of humor and not take everything so seriously…not like someone else I know.

Selena:   What scares you?

Maddie: Needles. However, what’s really scary is when you get so anal about editing and polishing and not moving forward fast enough. It wasn’t a lot of fun when you left me in a certain position for months, I got a cramp. I am eternally grateful you finally finished the scene. Good thing I have a lot of stamina and I’m a patient gal.

Alex: You, patient? Since when?

Selena:   What about you, Alex, what scares you?

Alex: Besides the fact that sometimes I can get inside Maddie’s head and figure out what she’s thinking. Reckless cruelty, corruption, hypocrisy and knowing there are kids out there who desperately need help, but the system keeps letting them down.

Maddie: I agree with Alex. I just tend to bury those things, because some of what he said has affected my life and the people I care about. All those months in draft mode, having to deal with that, until you finally yanked the story out of draft mode, stopped editing and helped me overcome my fears.

Alex: Uhm, Maddie, you’re still petrified of needles.

Maddie: Uhm, Alex, you’re still scared of assisted showers.

Alex: I wouldn’t say scared. I think we need to move on before you give away too much of the plot.

Selena:   Which of your character traits is most important to you and why? Maddie, you first.

Maddie: My persistence and my quirky sense of humor. I had no choice, the way my life was written, if I didn’t find the humor in it, I’d be on a therapist’s couch for life.

Selena:   What’s your biggest fault?

Maddie: My persistence and my quirky sense of humor. It did drive Alex crazy at times.

Alex: It caused me bodily injury, Maddie.

Maddie: Don’t blame me, I didn’t write the scene that way. Although, knowing me, I probably would have suggested that scene, but without the injury of course.

Selena:   Alex, your turn. Which of your character traits is most important to you and why?

Maddie: Can I answer that for him?

Alex: Selena already knows what you’re going to say. That I’m uptight, suspicious—

Maddie: A perfectionist, a health food-freak—

Alex: Thanks for your help, Mads, but I can finish answering this question. My integrity, having and living by an ethical code of sound moral principles. I’m self-disciplined, as an investigative reporter this is essential, so I pride myself on my ability to remain focused, alert and possess a lot of self-control.

Maddie: Well, there is all that of course. However, as for your self control—

Alex: What’s your next question for me, Selena?

Selena:   What’s your biggest fault?

Maddie: Can I please answer this one?

Alex: Not a chance, Doll. Disclaimer: for any women out there who takes offense to me calling Maddie doll, there’s a good reason why I sometimes call her that.

Maddie: There is, you can find out about it in chapter one.

Alex: To answer your question, Selena, I’d say my biggest fault is that I can sometimes be stubborn and moody.

Maddie: You think?

Selena:   Tell our readers what your favorite foods are.

Maddie: Chocolate and bacon. Not together….at least I haven’t dipped any bacon in chocolate as of yet. Those two things are in a food group of their own and are guaranteed rocket ships to delectable cloud nine.

Alex: Food that won’t clog my arteries.

Selena:   Alex, what do you admire most about Maddie?

Alex: Her persistence and sense of humor. She’s quirky, unique, self-reliant. She’s a strong woman who says out loud what most people think in their heads, this can be a problem, but I’ve gotten used to it over the years. I do admire how she hasn’t let what happened in her past define who she is today.

Maddie: Thank you, Alex, but I don’t say everything out loud that I’d like to say, for example, I haven’t told everybody that you can’t carry a tune and that when you—

Alex: I don’t think Selena wants you to give away so much of the plot.

Maddie: Well played, Alex.

Selena:   Maddie, what do you admire most about Alex?

Maddie: He’s not perfect and he doesn’t wear a cape or leap off buildings, but he does have a lot of hero qualities that I admire. Namely; his integrity, loyalty and ethics. Even though I love to pull a lot of pranks on him, on the whole he’s showed a lot of patience. Don’t let that get to your head, Alex, I said on the whole, you did get cranky more than once. Now, about that self control he talked about—

Alex: Thanks for having us, Selena.

Maddie: Thanks, Selena. Can I make a little request before we sign off?

Selena:   Sure.

Maddie: Can you please hurry up with your current work in progress and not only because Alex and I make an appearance. I really do want to know what happens to the hero and heroine of that book, and of course, I’d love to wave hi to the readers who read our journey in What A Girl Wants.

Selena: I’m going as fast as I can. Now, get back into that book you two.

Maddie: Mmmm. Chapter sixteen would be a great place to tuck back into—

Alex: One track mind.

Maddie: That’s how I roll, Babe. *laughing*

Alex: Not funny.

Maddie: Oh, come on, that was hysterical how you earned the nickname, Babe.

Alex: Let’s get back into the book before you give away too much of the story. Thanks again, Selena and everyone.

Maddie: Ciao, Bellas, off to my book signing….(walks away with Alex, saying….”I’m getting better at Italian, aren’t I?

Alex: Mads, they can still hear us.

Maddie: Oops, you’re right, can’t give away too much of the plot.

About Selena Robins

Genre-defying, witty, humorous, suspenseful, romantic and sexy— words used to describe Selena’s novels. A self-professed foodie and chocolate guru, Selena loves to dance with her dog, sing into her hairbrush and write in her PJ’s. In love with her family, friends, books, laughter, hockey, lively discussions and red wine (sometimes all at the same time). Selena is a dragon slayer who enjoys reading and writing sassy heroines and hot heroes (the ones your mamma warned you about, but secretly wished she’d dated a few in her life).

Selena’s Website: https://SelenaRobins.com/

Follow Selena’s blog: http://SelenaRobinsMusings.com/

Selena’s Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/Selena-Robins/e/B0058986JK/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_0

Guest Blogger: Jasmine Haynes

Thanks for having me, Delilah!

I’m both traditionally published (with Berkley Heat) and self-published. Both methods have their own advantages. With a traditional house, I’ve got a great editor I love working with and they give me fabulous cover art. Check out The Principal’s Office. I love it! The drawback is that it takes longer to get a book out. The exact length of time can vary, but usually a book will appear on the shelf between nine months to a year after I’ve finished it. So as you can see, one of the advantages of self-publishing is being able to put out a book very quickly. And that allows me to be responsive to requests from fans.

I wrote a naughty little foursome story called Kinky Neighbors, which you can find at http://www.amazon.com/dp/B004VS2T7O. Readers really seemed to enjoy the story. It was emotional, not just sex, sex, sex (though there’s nothing wrong with that either!). I did it first as a free read on my blog, a chapter a week. And boy, were people discussing it, what was going to happen, the characters they liked and disliked. One of the things that came out of the discussion and also out of emails I’ve received from readers was that they wanted to know what happened to the two couples after the story ended. You know, writers don’t always see the same thing that readers do, and for me, the story had ended. But the more I thought about it, the more I started to wonder, too! And boom, it came to me! So I’ve written it down for readers, Kinky Neighbors Two: Cat and Logan’s Just Desserts!

And that is the beauty of self-publishing. I can write that story and get it out to readers with a minimum of fuss. I’m going to the do the same thing as before, put it up chapter by chapter on my blog, www.jasminehaynes.blogspot.com. Chapter One is already up, so if you’ve read Kinky Neighbors, you can go to the Aug 6th blog and catch up on Kinky Neighbors Two!  If you haven’t read it, well, the sequel is a hot little story, but you probably won’t get as much out of it. Plus it’ll spoil what happens in the first book! Ah well, I guess that’s the disadvantage of self-publishing, spoilers!

BTW, I’ve signed a new two-book contract with Berkley Heat. The books will be in the same vein as The Principal’s Office, with heroines over 35, and they will feature some elements of bondage. Actually I call it bondage lite, with a little spanking, a little tying up, that kind of thing. You can expect to see those books starting in the latter half of 2013. She’s Gotta Be Mine by Jennifer Skully (me!) is free on http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00688GE7Q, as is Beauty or the Bitch, a contemporary retelling of Beauty and the Beast (with a twist!) http://amzn.to/mTMny0. I’ve done this as a free read on the blog, too, but if you missed it, here’s your chance to get it for free!

Guest Blogger: Carly Carson

London in Pictures

London is one of the world’s great cities, with something for everyone. In honor of the Olympics, I’m sharing some pictures of London sights.

If you’re a foodie, London might not be your first thought. But their food markets are wonderful. Harrods, the department store has beautiful displays of food to eat there or to go. Check out the candy display…

…and this fanciful cake.

The cake is actually for sale for 2,000 British pounds, about $3,000 US. Even the pizzeria is spotless and the big guy there was actually singing opera.

Fortnum & Mason is another well-known store with exquisite windows and food displays. The first picture on this blog is the side entrance, and gives you an idea of the very British decoration. The Royal Family does business with this store.

One last market I’d like to show you is the Borough Market, a recently revitalized food showroom where farmers hawk their homemade wares at individual stalls. Each vendor has only one type of food, but there is tremendous variety of that type.

Olives.

Mushrooms.

Salts.

You may be able to see Fresh Truffle Sea Salt on the middle shelf on the right. Above it is Shallots Sea Salt, and there are many other varieties. You can just walk around and choose whatever you want at this market, and make a lunch of it.

Here’s Westminster Abbey.

My kids wanted to go inside (because that’s where the marriage of Kate and William took place). Hubby and I had already been in, so we decided to walk over to the War Rooms which have been preserved intact from WW 2. Here’s where Churchill and his top war ministers lived while London was being bombed. It’s all underground, quite tiny and non-luxurious. Here’s the kitchen, which gives you a good idea of how they lived.

After the war ended, they discovered the underground bunker was not properly constructed and never would have survived a direct hit.

Our reward for taking in some history is that we saw the Queen drive by in a big caravan of limos. This was in June of last year and she was celebrating her birthday. There was no one around because she was merely on her way to Buckingham Palace…

…where they were having ceremonies. We didn’t tell our kids. They would have been so disappointed to have missed her.

Last, but not least, for you pet lovers, Harrods has an adorable pet shop.

Alas, I don’t have any books set in London. My latest release, Baby, It’s Cold Outside, is an erotic romance that takes place in NYC. Brenna is caught in a blizzard with Grant while she’s trying to make amends for accidentally busting up his marriage. Grant knows one thing she could do that would make him forget he ever had a wife. While a cold blizzard howls outside his bachelor Manhattan apartment, he turns up the heat inside.

Amazon: http://amzn.com/B006FD0LZK

B & N: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/books/1107759126?ean=2940013517967

I have more travel pictures on Pinterest. http://pinterest.com/carlycarson/

Guest Blogger: A. Catherine Noon & Rachel Wilder

The Salt of the Earth – An Unusual Travelogue

Thank you to Delilah for hosting Rachel and I today.  I wanted to share a little travelogue with you, though this one didn’t require any travel since it takes place right here in my hometown, Chicago.  Have you ever been to a salt cave?

Many of us use salt in our food every day, but have you ever stopped to consider this humble mineral?  Considered by herbalists to be valuable in healing and stress relief for centuries, we are only now beginning to realize the health benefits of salt in ways our forebears knew implicitly.  For the first time in the United States people are able to try the healing benefits of Crimean salt, a health secret known for decades in Poland.

The Galos salt-iodine caves are located in Chicago.  We arrived at a regular-looking building that houses the Jolly Inn Restaurant.  Parking is available across the street.  It couldn’t be less like an undersea environment if it were directly downtown.  We walked up to the glass door that seemed identical to any you’d find at a neighborhood salon.

Step through the door, though, and enter another world.

The lobby is lit with salt lamps, the lighting lowered.  Comfortable benches line the right wall with cubbies for shoes.  One does not wear one’s shoes inside the cave; one wears clean white socks.  We arrived and stowed our shoes and donned our socks, then the cave door opened.

Stalactites hang down from the ceiling, offering an immediate sense of the otherworldly.  The door is heavy, not like a normal interior building door but more like that for a sauna.  You step in and immediately sink several inches into rock salt crystals.  I thought they would hurt my feet but they massaged them instead, scratching pleasantly as I walked.  The cave is about twenty feet in an oval, lined with anti-gravity lounges.  They suggest you spend the first five or ten minutes walking slowly around the cave, massaging your feet and releasing more salt into the air.

Then you sit in the lounge and move it backward, reclining it so that your feet are above your head.  The lights are lowered and soft, relaxing music plays in the background.  The walls are made from bricks of the salt, which sparkles in the lamplight.  As you begin to relax, the music swells and you float away.  This lasts for about 50 minutes.

The next time you visit Chicago, I highly recommend a trip to the Galos Caves.  If you are curious, poke around their website.  There is a gallery of photographs and more information on the health benefits of the salt as well as how they mine it and make the caves.

What unusual travelogue would you write if you could?  Of what unusual things does your hometown boast?

My links:

Blog | Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | Amazon | LinkedIn | Pandora

Knoontime Knitting:  Blog | Facebook | Twitter | Ravelry

Noon and Wilder links: Blog | Website | Facebook

Evanston Writers Workshop:

Blog | Website | Meetup | Forum | Facebook | Twitter | Annual Conference | ConTweets

Team Blogs: Nightlight | The Writers Retreat Blog | Beyond the Veil | LGBT Fantasy Fans and Writers

Publishers: Samhain Publishing | Torquere Press

Check out BURNING BRIGHT, available from Samhain Publishing.

Check out EMERALD FIRE, available from Torquere Publishing.

GIRLS WHO SCORE is here!

With the Olympics blowing up your television, aren’t you glad there’s a quieter way to celebrate female athletes? This is out now! Click on the pick if you’d like to read my contribution to the anthology, “Playing the Field.” Congratulations to my friend, Ily Goyanes, for her debut as a Cleis editor! I’m proud to be a part of this book!

Even though they may not get a lot of action on the field after high school and college, girl jocks always manage to see a lot of action off the field. Because female athletes have an easy confidence about them, a natural nonchalance, and usually a killer bod, that draws all kinds of women to them—straight, lesbian, bisexual, curious, questioning, you name it. Women are competitive by nature, whether they play sports or games. Women play hard and love harder. They don’t just score—they keep track. GIRLS WHO SCORE is filled with story after story of complex, intriguing women engaging in all kinds of, ahem, contact sports. Sinclair Sexsmith contributes “A Good Workout” at the gym with lots of hot action in the steam room and Gina Marie has two women boxers going at it in every way in her ever-so-sexy “Blood Lust.” Delilah Devlin’s soccer champs have a very good time in “Playing the Field,” and Elle’s “Game Over” has a cheerleader who “trains” a freshmen each year to serve her every need. Sporty dykes aren’t always playing ball, so to speak. After all, scuba divers and gym bunnies are in fact athletes and editor Ily Goyanes features lesbian jocks of every stripe in this sweet and sweaty volume.

Table of Contents

Chairs by Sommer Marsden

Blood Lust by Gina Marie

A Good Workout by Sinclair Sexsmith

Lucky Number Three by Beth Wylde

Give and Go by Anna Watson

Playing the Field by Delilah Devlin

No, Tell Me How You Really Feel by Ily Goyanes

Run, Jo, Run by Cheyenne Blue

Boot Camp by JT Langdon

Facing the Music by Kiki DeLovely

Out and a Bout by Allison Wonderland

The Outside Edge by Sacchi Green

Hail Mary by Shanna Germain

Goddess in a Red and Blue Speedo by D.L. King

Cymone’s Dominatrix by Paisley Smith

Game Over by Elle

Guest Blogger: Shiloh Walker

When characters attack

Okay, so he’d spoken two sentences there. “Okay…so what’s with you?”

His hand shot out and I found myself plastered against him two seconds later. “You stayed.”

“Damn it,” I snapped, shoving against his chest. Hard and hot, my hands slid against the smoothness of his flesh without budging him an inch. “What did you think I was going to do? I barely even know where I am.”

“You’re a little fool,” he muttered.

Then he buried his face against my neck and I shuddered.

“I never know when you’re going to show sense or do something that will end up with you dead…or worse.”

I could feel the heated puff of his breath against my skin and damn it, that shouldn’t feel so good. It shouldn’t feel so good at all.

Asshole. Territory. He was asshole. Territory.

I couldn’t…

My breath hitched in my chest as he lifted his head, staring down at me with eyes that burned. Storm clouds shouldn’t burn so hot. But his eyes did.

Couldn’t breathe, couldn’t breathe—

* * * * *

Meet Kit and Damon, from my first full-length urban fantasy project, BLADE SONG…it was just released by my alter ego, J.C. Daniels.  I loved Kit.  She’s mouthy, she bites off my than she could chew and she knows she does it, but she’s driven by demons from her past so she has a hard time saying no in certain situations.

Damon was a different story.

This book sat on my laptop for a long, long time, unfinished.  Actually, it was barely started because the other character wasn’t who I needed him to be.  He was just a…well, a shadow character, basically.  He was like a sketch of the person I needed for the book and the book wouldn’t move forward.

Then back in January, the real Damon, so to speak, stepped up and the shadow character fell by the wayside and the book took off like whoa.  I’d never written anybody like Damon before.  He’s…well.  He’s hard to describe, but between him and Kit, they dominated my brain until I had the book finished.

They let me have a few weeks of peace…then they did it all over it again…if they keep attacking my brain like this, I won’t have a brain left.

If you’re into urban fantasy, BLADE SONG is now available on ebook (Amazon | BN | iBookstore | and other outlets) and print is coming.  You can read more at my website…

Shiloh Walker/J.C. Daniels

A Question…

Quick note! Two Wild for Teacher is up for July’s Book of the Month at Long and Short Reviews! I’d really appreciate your votes!

The contest ends tonight!

* * * * *

Today, I’m headin’ due south—before the rooster crows! The Red-Headed Hellion (daughter), my sister Myla Jackson and I are driving to south Louisiana, following Highway 1 ’til we reach the end on Grand Isle. We’ll only spend a night in a dive, er, modest motel then start making our way northeast toward New Orleans. We have to be there by Wednesday for the start of the Authors After Dark conference.

Have good thoughts for our journey. I hope to soak up atmosphere, listen to the cadence of the language, and take tons of pics—all in the name of research. Let’s just hope my journey isn’t like one I’d write. Good thoughts, remember—nice and easy. No stress.

I have guests lined up for the week. Be sure to drop in and say hello.

I’ll leave you with a question…

If, for the rest of your life, you had to wake up every morning to one song

playing in your head, which song would you choose?

Question courtesy of The Question Guys

Snippet Saturday: Ain’t No Sunshine

Hey there! Two quick notes!

1) Two Wild for Teacher is up for July’s Book of the Month at Long and Short Reviews! I’d really appreciate your votes! The contest ends tomorrow!

2) There’s a very short interview with a prize involved at What Daydrmzz Are Made Of. Drop by and post for a chance to win!

* * * * *

I don’t write separations much. In most of my stories, once the hero(es) and heroine are introduced, they’re pretty much together for the rest of the book working out their problems. Maybe that’s because that was always my own personal experience. *cough* In Ravished by a Viking, I gave Dagr and Honora a separation. He sacrifices himself, surrendering himself, his crew, and the ship he took as part of a larger plan. In the excerpt below, Honora knows he’s been tortured, likely already dead. But she’s made her own sacrifice, entering the Viking’s keep, without his protection, to tell them an army is coming. This scene preceeds my favorite scene in the entire book…where Vikings battle dragons…

2011 CAPA winner for Best Sci-Fi Romance!

What a Viking wants, a Viking takes.

When his younger brother goes missing, Dagr, Viking warrior and Lord of the Wolfskin Clan, will do whatever it takes to get him back. But nothing could have prepared him for Honora—a feisty, intelligent woman who is nothing like the women of his world—women who are content to serve their men in all things. Drawn to her despite her recalcitrant nature, Dagr is determined to show her who’s boss both in bed and out.

When the two enemies-turned-lovers join forces to find Dagr’s brother they are thrown into a rousing adventure full of danger, intrigue and erotic abandon. Can their passion truly unite them or will their different worlds lead to destruction for them both?

“They’ve come! They’ve come!” came the whispers up and down the wallwalk.

Honora ran to a guard who leaned over the parapet, his hand pointing.

Vikings scrambled from below, climbing the stairs and ladders to get to the top.

“Are they daft?” Odvarr exclaimed loudly.

And next to her ear. Honora shook her head to clear the ringing and aimed a glare his way. “Shhh! The wind will only carry away so much of our sounds.”

“Why bother being quiet? They’ve already proven themselves fools.”

“That is a whole battalion of Consortium ground warriors,” she said, whispering furiously. “Men trained well in hand-to-hand combat, and armed to the teeth. Shouldn’t you be sending your own barbarians out to meet them before they reach the walls? They carry small cannons!”

“We needn’t bother. Do you hear them?”

Sure, she heard the rhythmic, snow-muffled stomping of hundreds of feet. So why did he look so gratified? Her gaze ran over Odvarr’s craggy face. She’d never understand any of them. They seemed to thrive on conflict.

She and Turk had arrived at the keep the previous afternoon, bound like roasted geese and greeted with suspicious stares and muffled laughter. Honora bore the indignity, filling in Dagr’s man in charge, the surly giant Odvarr, on what had transpired since Dagr’s last stop for ore.

Odvarr’s shaggy eyebrows had risen, but he’d stayed silent throughout the retelling. Of course, she’d left out the more intimate details.

Not that that had saved her from scrutiny by his two concubines. Astrid had looked down her nose from her great height, her glance skimming her body, then sniffing as though Honora were of no consequence. However, Tora had chided Odvarr for leaving her and Turk bound.

Under her insistence, the giant had reluctantly freed them. “Do not think I won’t split the two of you from gut to gullet if you threaten anyone here.”

Tora’s eyes twinkled. “Do not worry about him. He’s still smarting over the trick the last guest we held here played on him.”

“Do you hold all your guests prisoner?”

Tora had folded her hands over her belly, and her friendly gaze had narrowed. “Well, you aren’t really guests, are you? Dagr never gave you leave to come here.” She’d sighed and her stern expression softened. “However, the great risk you took coming to warn us says a lot about you.”

Then she’d fussed over them, waving a team of servants through the great hall to feed them, asking endless questions about Honora’s home, her ship, the people she knew.

And especially how Dagr had been when they’d parted. “Did he seem grim?” she’d asked.

Honora shrugged. “Not any more than usual.”

Astrid’s eyebrows shot up. “You spent a lot of time in his company, then?”

Honora’s cheeks had warmed beneath Tora and Astrid’s fascinated stares. “He . . . demanded that I remain close . . . to ensure the good behavior of my crew.” She had been just as curious about the two women. Knowing he had his choice of Viking women, she’d been surprised that he hadn’t chosen the most beautiful or even younger women.

“It can’t be. She’s a tiny thing,” Astrid said under her breath to Tora. “He’d break her like a twig.”

Tora patted her hand. “My friend, you’ve known this day would come.”

“But she’s . . . not Viking. Her skin is

dirty.”

Honora had had enough of them speaking as though she wasn’t even there. She cleared her throat. “My skin’s bronze.”

Astrid’s hard-eyed gaze bored into her. “Her hair’s mud-colored.”

Pride inching her chin higher, Honora replied, “It’s actually a deep russet.”

Astrid snorted and aimed a confused glance at her sister concubine. “She knows nothing about our history.”

“And yet she’s human too,” Tora said softly. “We all have a common history, a common origin. Perhaps he sees a way to breach the divide between our peoples.”

A political arrangement? Honora shook her head. “You place too much importance on me. I’m a disgraced ship’s captain, not someone a noble would consort with for a political alliance.”

“And yet, you’ve slept with him,” Tora said, studying her.

Honora’s cheeks burned hotter, but she nodded.

“More than once. I’d hazard a guess that he didn’t wait long past the taking of the ship to claim you.”

Honora’s mouth dropped open.

Tora smiled. “It’s all right, dear. You’re among friends.”

“Friends!” Odvarr and Astrid exclaimed in unison.

“Friends,” Tora said firmly. “Our Dagr has made his choice.”

“But he didn’t even want her here.”

“Likely for her own protection. Am I right?”

Honora saw no reason to argue, since the woman had somehow guessed right about everything else. “That’s what he said, but he might have been sparing my feelings.”

The three Vikings sitting opposite her froze, their mouths half-open, then erupted in peals of laughter.

“He wanted to spare your feelings?” Astrid said, holding her sides.

“He’s a sensitive man. More so than I originally thought,” Honora said, feeling foolish for having mentioned it at all.

“Tell me,” Tora said, wiping her eyes. “Was he wearing a stone talisman when last you saw him?”

Honora shrugged, not understanding, and then remembered the amulet Dagr had given Birget. “He passed it on to Birget before she boarded the transport ship to follow Dagr’s brother.”

For the first time, Tora’s soft mouth pinched into a tight line. “He is stubborn beyond belief. The man needs to learn to pray.”

Honora had had enough of small talk and turned to Odvarr. “You have to believe me. Consortium ships are headed this way. They intend to attack this keep and seize the mines.”

Odvarr didn’t respond with a gesture or an expression.

“Are you going to do nothing?” Honora said, jumping to her feet, anxiety fueling her muscles.

“It’s already done,” Tora said, her voice soothing. “As soon as you were brought into the keep. Odvarr set guards on the wallwalk and scouts along every access road to the keep. We will know if anyone comes.”

“And if they teleport directly inside the keep?”

“They will be like fish in a barrel,” Odvarr said, crossing his burly arms over his chest. “There isn’t a wolf inside the keep that isn’t standing ready and armed.”

Honora sighed. “I can’t be idle. Please, may I keep watch too?”

“And do what?” he said, eyeing her as though she were an annoying insect.

“I can shout. I can pray.”

“Do you have a god you have a relationship with?” Tora asked.

“Not really. I haven’t believed for a very long time.”

“Then let me introduce you to our Dagr’s god. The one who blessed his sword and whose symbol he wore around his neck—until he decided to gift his well-being to that arrogant bear.”

Honora liked Tora from the instant they’d met. But as the evening had worn on, she’d warmed to the woman’s natural warmth and good humor, melting just a little beneath her coddling when she’d fed her, then insisted on bathing her and tucking her into bed.

In all her life, Honora had never been treated like that. The servants in her father’s house who’d seen to her instruction until she was old enough to enter the academy had otherwise left her to herself.

She wondered if Dagr knew how different his world was, how wonderful it was to someone who’d never felt she belonged. She’d fallen asleep admitting to herself that she wanted to belong here. Wanted to belong to Dagr.

The fierce cold wind stung her cheeks, centering her thoughts. Her eyes watered and she blinked rapidly as she stared through the snowfall to see the shadowy figures spread out on the ice, marching toward them now.

They approached as quietly as a battalion of men could, likely hoping the whistling wind and the scurry of snow on the frozen surface of the sea would leave them undetected until the last moment.

Had they chosen this route or had Dagr? Arikan, the arrogant bastard, might have thought that seeing his men spread out would have the Vikings shaking in their boots.

If Dagr were alive, he might have bleated out this route during torture to ensure his people had warning. Dagr could already be dead; likely was.

Sorrow trembled through her, but she firmed her shoulders. She could still do one last thing for him. She could witness his enemy’s defeat.

She stared at the dark figures blurred by the snow, until they neared and clearer outlines formed. Her gaze narrowed on one with a familiar proud gait. Heart racing, she leaned over the parapet, gripping the edge hard.

A hand closed around the neck of her cloak and pulled her back. “Are you trying to kill yourself? Or me?” Odvarr muttered. “Dagr will have my innards for dinner if you fall.”

She shook her head and pointed. “Look!” she hissed. “At the front of the formation. It’s him!”

Odvarr squinted, then leaned over the wall. “’Tis him, all right,” he said, nodding as though he’d never had any doubt about his survival. “I hope he plans to start running soon.”

“If he runs, they’ll know he’s betraying them and they’ll kill him.”

“If he doesn’t, the serpents will eat him.”

“Serpents?”

She swung back to look at hundreds of figures, no longer shrouded because of diminishing snowfall. From her perch on a wallwalk, at the top of a rugged cliff, she could see the frozen ocean all the way to the horizon.

Another glance below and she sucked in startled breath. Long streaks of vibrant color skimmed below the ice. “Does he know?”

“Of course he does. ’Twas his plan,” he said, giving her a harsh smile filled with pride. He turned and bent over the railing. “Men! To the skiffs. Your king has turned dragons to our cause!”

 * * * * *

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

Megan Hart:Read in bed!

Leah Braemel

Eliza Gayle

Mandy M Roth

Lissa Matthews

Mari Carr

McKenna Jeffries

Myla Jackson

Taige Crenshaw

HelenKay Dimon

Lauren Dane

TJ Michaels

Guest Blogger: Melanie Atkins

The Heat is On

Wow! I live down south, and we’re expecting the temperature today to reach at least 98 degrees, with a heat index of 108-110. And no, this is not “dry heat” like one would find out west or even in Texas. This is sultry, stifling, breath-sucking, Deep South heat. The kind that makes you want to get nekkid, turn up the AC, and drink lemonade. Seriously.

My solution? Stay inside. My cats agree. Usually by 5:30 a.m., they’re clamoring to go out, and they might for just a little while. Then they return to the door, ready to come back in and sleep for most of the day, and scratch until I get up and bow to their feline pleasure. Cats that actually want to stay inside when they can chase varmint outside? You know it’s got to be hot.

I feel for everyone who has to work out in this heat. My sons both do. One is an electrician and has to go into attics on a frequent basis. I worry about him. The other one works for a freight company on the docks. At least he works mostly in the evening and not in the heat of the day. Still, I hope he drinks enough water.

Last Sunday, I went to a swimming party. The heat nearly melted me even though the pool water was relatively cool. The water in the pool where I take water aerobics in the early a.m. two days a week isn’t that refreshing during a heat wave like this. It’s more like bath water. Hot bath water. Jumping in takes my breath away, and not in a good way. Swimming, even that early, just makes me hotter.

I’m stuck inside writing when the weather’s like this. I usually love to write out on my deck in the late afternoon once shade covers it, but not right now. I’d die, even with my fan blowing right in my face. Staying inside makes for more distractions, but I just put in my headphones and plow on. Then I get to a steamy scene, and the heat builds again… Ack! Heat, heat, and more heat.

What do you do to keep cool when the outside furnace cranks up? Do you go swimming? Wallow in the AC like I do? Make cool drinks? Take off your clothes? Sit on an ice block? Okay, I’m laughing at that visual.

Reading—inside, of course—is always a good outlet. And speaking of reading… I have a new novella out this week! (How do you like that segue? Pretty cool, huh? lol) Hope you’ll check out this stand alone story… and just for the record, you might want to have some tissues handy; not to mop sweat, but to dry your tears. Just sayin’… it’s an emotional story.

EMILY’S NIGHTMARE is now available at Desert Breeze Publishing: http://bit.ly/MLaT31

**And at many other online outlets, including Amazon, B&N, the iTunes store, Sony, etc.

 

Detective Emily Rawson doesn’t want children; she’s too focused on her career to give a family the time required. That is, until she falls in love with fellow detective John Cutter, forgets to take precautions, and winds up pregnant. She fights the idea tooth and nail before finally deciding that having a baby is exactly what she wants—as long as the child is Cutter’s. Then tragedy strikes. Will it bring them together or tear them apart?

Fear pummeled Emily. She gripped the Glock and ducked into the enclosed stairwell. The faint odors of oil and gasoline rode the stale air. Time stood still. A bead of moisture rolled down her cheek. She wiped it away and peeked out the door.

Her assailant fired.

White-hot pain speared Emily’s shoulder. She screamed, the sound echoing as she lost her footing and tumbled backward down the cold concrete steps. She landed hard on her back, sticky, ruby red blood coating her thighs. Her head pounded. Fear took her breath.

Inky darkness spilled over her like rising water.

Emily bolted up in bed, cold sweat streaming down her back. The same awful dream. So painful and so real. Every night for the past six months. Ever since John Cutter, her former partner, best friend, and lover, had ridiculed her choices and turned his back on her.

That wasn’t the worst of it, however. Their breakup had come first.

I want a houseful of kids, he’d said. A big family.

His hopeful words had gouged a hole in Emily’s heart, because she didn’t want kids—despite the incident tonight with the rescued baby. Her own childhood had been a living hell, thanks to her father’s bitterness and her great-uncle’s roaming hands, and even though her mother had tried, Emily didn’t want to follow in her footsteps. The very idea scared her to death. Better to just forget having a family and focus on catching criminals. She was a damned good cop and well-deserving of her spot in her division.

During their last fight before she’d left burglary, Cutter had mocked her for making the change and had even bashed poor Mike Jamison, the high school history teacher she had dated for a time the year before while she and Cutter were on the outs. His animosity had made absolutely no sense—and neither did this recurring dream.

“What’s wrong with me?” Emily murmured, shuddering at the thought that she might not ever get a handle on her nightmares.

She raked the ends of her short hair off her neck to dry the perspiration coating her fevered skin. Tonight—she glanced at the clock and groaned; five in the morning, so make that last night—she’d gone to Bullets and spotted Cutter sitting at the bar, and she’d ducked out without him seeing her. No need to stir the hornet’s next. The last time she’d bumped into him there, he’d been way too abrasive. Not mean, exactly. Just belligerent.

She drew the covers up to her chin. She and Cutter had been partners in the burglary division for three long years. She’d thought he was her best buddy and more. And now—

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Taking our Licks…

Something thrilling! I’m the Guest Author for the whole month of August on the Erotica Readers & Writers Association website! They’ve posted my bio and three FREE stories of mine! So be sure to head over there to check those out! Look at the panel on the left side where it says “Guest Author.”

* * * * *

I’ve been so busy with the Cleis Press books, I haven’t had a chance to talk about the book Paisley Smith and I put together. First, don’t you love the cover? Especially that big fat tongue? Mm-mmm.

I write a lot of short stories. Usually too short to publish on their own. While most are picked up for collections, I don’t like the thought that some of my readers can’t enjoy them if they don’t want to read an anthology of random authors. Last winter I put together a collection of hetero tales, called Strokes.  Readers seemed to enjoy that.

I still had all these lesbian shorts doing nothing on my computer. Not enough to fill out a collection all my myself, but then I have friends. One in particular—Paisley Smith—is a fantastic lesbian fiction author. I asked her if she’d like to join me. She was all over it, and in fact wrote never-before-published stories just for this book!

And if you think LGBT fiction isn’t your cup of tea, well take a look…

From Paisley’s “Riding Bitch”:

After my third call went to voicemail, I flipped closed my cell phone and peered down the dark street. No sign of my boyfriend, Garrett. I couldn’t imagine why he’d forgotten to pick me up from my job at the Giggling Grouper.

Thunder rumbled and I turned toward the gulf. Soft lightning illuminated the sky in the distance. But beach storms rolled in fast. Apprehension gnawed at my stomach.

I’d sensed Garrett pulling away, but since my job was seasonal, and I’d probably be moving back to my hometown in Georgia after Labor Day, I really hadn’t bothered to end things with him.

Tonight, it seemed, he’d beaten me to the punch.

I glanced at my watch. Half past two. He was thirty minutes late and everybody I knew was either in bed or lived an hour away in Foley. No sense calling a cab. The fee to make the hour-and-a-half drive from Orange Beach to my place in Bay Minette would cost every dollar I’d earned for the night.

The parking lot was desolate except for one empty car and a motorcycle.

Lindsey’s motorcycle.

even though the balmy, coastal breeze was far from chilly, I hugged my arms to myself.

Lindsey.

I sighed.

I had the wickedest crush on her. Even though I’d only been with a couple of girls—and that had been in high school—I found Lindsey sexy as hell. She wasn’t the type most girls, even full-fledged lesbians, would find attractive. With super-short brown hair and square-shouldered frame, she looked like a boy. At the restaurant, we joked about how many times customers referred to her as sir.

But there was something about her. Something indefinable. Something that made me wet between the legs whenever I thought about her tangled in the arms of another woman. Just an inexplicable je ne sais quoi existed about the contrasting enigma of her plush, naturally pink lips and the men’s button-down and khakis she wore to work that intrigued me.

On more than one occasion, I’d fantasized about sneaking a kiss with her in the walk-in cooler, or on the pier after closing. Truth be told, I fantasized about way more than kissing her. I doubted I was her type though. With my trademark twin, blonde pigtails and black booty shorts that got me more tips than I deserved, I was an all-American girly-girl, the kind who fretted about hot-gluing bling to my cell phone or chipping a nail. I’d always figured Lindsey liked rough and tumble gals, the no-nonsense type who slid into second base at the softball games she refereed on Sundays.

And even if she did find me attractive, there was another problem. The woman was my boss. Even though my job was temporary, fraternizing with employees was against the rules for the shift managers.

Just as I started to dial Garrett one more time, the back door opened and Lindsey stepped out. She’d changed from her shirt and khakis into a pair of jeans, biker boots, and a tight-fitting black tank. Balancing her helmet on her hip with her arm, she slammed the door closed and turned the key in the lock.

As she started toward her bike, more—and closer—lightning bathed her in an eerie yellow glow. Her Joan Jett walk was decidedly masculine, and she whistled as she crossed the parking lot.

“Hey, Lindz,” I called, suddenly terrified at the thought of being abandoned here all night.

Thunder boomed as she stopped. Her eyes widened at the sight of me standing there, looking like a lonely loser at the edge of the parking lot. “Shit, Megan,” she said in that oddly sensual, androgynous tone of hers. “You scared me. What are you doing out here? Your ride didn’t show?”

As I hurried toward her, I shook my head.

Pity for me flashed in her eyes. “How you gonna get home?”

I shrugged, suddenly near tears.

She reached out and clasped my shoulder. “Come on, now. None of that. Any jerk who’d leave you stranded this late at night doesn’t deserve you anyway. I’ve got an extra helmet in the restaurant. I’ll take you home.”

“All the way to Bay Minette? I couldn’t—”

“Home with me,” she said. “There’s no way we’ll beat this storm. Besides, it’ll do you good to let him worry for once.” She grinned.

“You’re right,” I said, relieved I’d found a ride. “Thanks.”

She thrust her helmet into my hands. “Hang onto this and I’ll get the other one.” She started back toward the restaurant.

The first drops of rain fell on my face and arms as I ambled over to her bike while she retrieved the other helmet. I’d never been on a motorcycle before, and the thought of riding this one nestled behind Lindsey caused my stomach to do flips. I wondered if my nervousness stemmed more from being on a motorcycle, or from the idea I was going home with Lindsey.

She returned and traded helmets with me. I watched her don hers, my mouth going dry at the sight of her in her easy fitting jeans and that thin, thin tank. Obviously, she wore nothing underneath her skimpy top. Her breasts were small, no bigger than mine had been when I’d first worn a training bra. I wondered about the sensation of kissing them, cupping them as she fingered me. Wetness dampened my panties.