Delilah Devlin's Blog, page 494

New Contest! And what's in store…

Tomorrow morning, bright and early, I'm driving to New Orleans with my mother and aunt to meet up with my cousin who's flying in from Seattle for a little sight-seeing. I'll be doing some (ahem) setting research, while the ladies and Cousin Dave have fun (wink-wink IRS). Oh, stop it! NOLA is my favorite US city. Any trip there is going to inspire a story. I'm taking my camera and notebook!

While I'm away, I have guests to keep you entertained:

Tuesday — Kaily Hart

Wednesday — Cathryn Cade

Thursday — Denise Golinowski

Friday — Paige Tyler

To help you decide to come back here every day to meet my guests, I'm running a new contest!

Tater Red's Grab Bag & Elvis Contest

What can you win?

Every time I go to another of my favorite cities, Memphis, I hit this little shop on Beale street called Tater Red's. I always buy the mystery brown bag filled with kitschy goodies. Here is the contents of one such bag (the stuffed King Daddy Blues Rat doll, a KDBR magnet, a pretty LOVE makeup bag, a strange monkey sitting at a Wall Street desk, a pack of playing cards, and a Tater Red's address book. I added a magnetic Elvis doll for you to stick on your fridge and dress in new outfits.

Come on, you know you want my junk!

What do you have to do to win?

Post a comment on any blog posting from today until the contest ends. Each entry counts as another chance to win!

This contest ends in two weeks, April 17th!!

* * * * *

Today, I'm going to do a little shopping, pack, but definitely no writing, or very little. I am going to use this week to clear my head. Lots on my plate. Maybe more coming.

In the meantime, how about answering a question for your first entry in my Tater Red's Grab Bag & Elvis Contest?

On a scale of one to ten (with one being not at all and ten being very much so), how superstitious are you?

Guest Blogger: Randi Alexander (Contest!)

Psst! Yesterday's winner is named at the top of yesterday's post! ~DD

* * * * *

New Release, Contest, and Book Giveaway!

Thank you, Delilah. It's a pleasure to be a guest on your blog. I'm Randi Alexander and I write cowboy erotic romance. I'm published with The Wild Rose Press' Cowboy Kink line. My second Cowboy Kink, Her Cowboy Stud, was released March 23.

It feels rather odd to be blogging about erotic romance on Easter Sunday, but I'm up to the challenge! We do celebrate Easter, a holiday to gather with community and family. The kids, though, love searching the house to find where the Easter Bunny left their baskets full of candy.

Since then kids are now ten (Miss Fussy,) eight (Little Man,) and six (Pink,) we enjoy finding creative and hard-to-find places to hide the baskets. Taped underneath the kitchen table, hung amidst the coats in the foyer closet, or inside the air intake grate.

We've found a way to get the kids to work together to find them. We mark each basket with either a circle, a triangle, or a square. Once all three baskets have been found, we let them know which one is theirs. That way it becomes a team project.

A few years ago, we had the brilliant idea of giving the kids a rabbit. First off, one tiny bunny rabbit and three kids—the little fluff ball was held so much that first week, I don't think his tiny paws ever touched solid ground. Because he was tan and white, the kids settled on the name, Butterfinger Blizzard. (Blizzard for short.)

We built a big pen for Blizzard by the garden where the kids could hang out with him and feed him early spring vegetables. The day we thinned out the garden, we set all the culled seedlings in his pen, thinking it would take him a week to get through all of them.

What we didn't realize is that rabbits will eat everything in front of them, especially if it's fresh veggies. Two hours later the kids ran in the house, yelling, "Blizzard turned into a basketball." Sure enough, the poor thing looked like a furry, multi-colored blimp. It took another day for his belly to return to normal size. Lesson learned!

Another year, my brother gave us three chicks. Rhode Island Reds. Tiny little things that the kids named Birdchick, Dog Face Peep, and Colonel (after KFC's founder.) After a few weeks, we decided to return them to my brother's farm and keep visitation rights. We don't know exactly what happened to the three Rhodies, but I imagine the KFC scenario is probably accurate.

I'm laughing right now as I look out the window and watch Little Man using his remote control Jeep to chase Pink around on the trampoline. They're very good at finding ways to amuse themselves, but I'm thinking their lives would be much enriched if we try the animal surprise again this Easter.

Will I be able to talk hubby into another addition to our family? Every kid needs a puppy, right? Wish me luck!

I'd love to hear your stories of Easter baskets hidden in bizarre places, or gifts of animals that either didn't work out well or did work out and have made a difference in your life. Leave a comment for your chance to win an e-book!

Trace McGonagall's quiet life on his Houston stud ranch is shaken up when gorgeous Macy Veralta arrives to claim an inheritance left to her in his uncle's will. Trace sees her as just another gold digger, but he also can't resist her curvy body. When she hints at being the perfect submissive to his Dom, he has to have her.

Macy wouldn't have been three months late to claim her inheritance if she'd known Trace was sin in jeans. The cowboy's dominant bearing and the smoldering glint in his eyes send shivers to her toes and stirs images of being bound in his bed and disciplined at his hand. But could Trace's perfect seduction be part of his plan to reclaim her inheritance?

EXCERPT: I chose a romantic excerpt today, but if you're in the mood for more spicy, the first chapter of the book is on my website.

Pulling Macy on top of him, Trace grinned. "You won the bet. Anything you want is yours. You just need to ask." His heart gradually slowed to normal while his body tingled with a major afterglow.

She kissed his shoulder. "Anything?" Her voice purred.

He pulled a pillow under his head to look down at her, combed his fingers through her soft hair. He would give her anything. His house, his horse, his heart. "Name it."

"Would you feed me?"

His brow lifted. "Are we talkin' food here, or is this sexual?"

She laughed. "This time it's food. All the sudden I'm starving."

His stomach growled at the thought of whatever JaniceLynn left in the oven for them, which smelled pretty damn good when he was in the kitchen before. He bent to kiss her. "I'm your servant, ma'am."

He picked up his briefs and made a quick run to the bathroom. When he emerged, she stood and he handed her his shirt.

She slid into it, smiling. Nothing in his closet had ever looked so good. No one had ever felt so good in his arms, or been as perfect in his bed. He still didn't know what Macy was thinking. Was this his one night with her, or would there be more?

*********

To celebrate the release of Her Cowboy Stud, I'm giving away, to one lucky *commenter, an e-copy of my new erotic romance short story anthology, Cowboy Bad Boys. Just leave a comment today and we'll choose a winner tomorrow. *Commenter must be 18 years of age or older to win.

I'm also giving away a custom-made messenger bag and a $50 gift certificate to Pureromance to one subscriber to my newsletter. For more details, and to sign up for this contest, please go to my website, RandiAlexander.com  And while you're there, you can read the first chapter of Her Cowboy Stud.

Good luck, and thank you!

Randi

"Rode Hard and Put Up Satisfied"

RandiAlexander.com

WildAndWickedCowboysBlog

Her Cowboy Stud available at The Wild Rose Press Wilder Roses

Kindle version is available at Amazon.com

Snippet Saturday: An Emotional Scene

This was only the fourth story I ever published, but it remains one of my favorites. Largely because of Quentin—the bastard! He's got a razor-sharp wit, falls like a ton of bricks for Darcy, and as you learn in later books, is ready to walk through hell to keep her. Enjoy the snippet!

"…congratulations to Ms. Devlin for creating a masterpiece. This story has all the elements that a Gold Star book has in it. The novel has intense suspense that was thrilling and delightful…" Gold Star Award, Just Erotic Romance Reviews

"… LOVE BITES is a delicious, emotional romp of a story, a tale that builds powerfully on the old, often-used love triangle and succeeds beautifully in creating something new and exciting." Sensual Romance

On the trail of a serial killer, vampire Quentin Albermarle is mistaken for the killer by a police special task force. Once the smoke clears, Quentin finds himself in a delicious position—atop one of the unit's crack officers, Darcy Henry.

In need of Quentin's access to the vampire sub-culture, the task force leadership invites Quentin to join the crime unit as a special advisor, much to the chagrin of the men in the unit, and especially, of Darcy.

A no-nonsense cop with no time for romance, Darcy suddenly finds herself embroiled in a steamy love triangle between her mortal partner, Joe, and the handsome vampire. Going from abstinence to wantonness, she is unable to resist the two men's relentless seduction or her own sensual curiosity about a vampire's special "kiss".

When the real killer threatens the life of someone close to her, Darcy makes a choice that forever binds the three of them together.

The radio crackled in Darcy's ear. "Nicky and his crew just pulled into the marina," the Captain said from the command post—the team's van in the parking area. "Remember, we'll wait to strike until he brings his men in to move the cargo."

Thank God! She'd been afraid she would disgrace herself. The wait had been interminable. The storm that threatened to break over their heads had whipped up waves in the inlet, setting all the boats tied to the dock bobbing in the water. Her stomach pitched right along with them.

"I'm gonna barf if this doesn't go down soon," Phil moaned.

Soft chuckles sounded from seven mikes. Darcy commiserated with Phil. Glad she hadn't eaten any dinner, she kept silent beside Quentin, nausea roiling in her belly and clammy perspiration breaking on her forehead. This was one stakeout she'd be happy to see the end of.

"Too many of Bets' meatballs, Phil?" Emmy broke in, her voice full of sympathy.

"God, don't mention it," he groaned.

Above the sound of the gathering wind, footsteps echoed hollowly on the wooden planks of the dock. Quentin crouched so close behind her she felt his body grow rigid. It felt right to have him watching her back even though she still missed Joe. They'd taken up a position on the cabin cruiser tied next to Rupe King's. Hunkered down behind the gunwale of the boat, they listened tensely for the order to move in for the kill.

Quentin had stuck to her like glue all evening. It was annoying, but sweet, how protective he was of her. And totally unnecessary. When things turned ugly—and they would—she'd be moving fast. She didn't want to trip over him.

The rumble of voices sounded in the next boat, but they were too low to make out their words. There was a sudden burst of laughter and a door opened, spilling light from the cabin onto the dock.

Darcy rose up to peek over the rail, but Quentin's heavy hand pushed her down. She turned to glare at him. "What do you think you're doing?" she whispered angrily.

"Shhh." He lifted his chin in the direction of the other boat.

Darcy saw one of Nicky's boys on the bow with a radio next to his ear. "Tell them it's clear," the teen said.

Ignoring Darcy's glower, Quentin whispered into his headset, "Get ready. Nicky's given the all clear. The others will be closing on the boat."

"Roger that," Max replied quietly. "No one moves until I give the signal."

With the team in position on neighboring boats and inside cars in the marina, the gang would be encircled in moments.

Darcy held her breath. Once the noose tightened, Nicky would react like a trapped animal. She'd seen the mayhem he was capable of when he held all the cards, now she'd get a glimpse of a monster in full rage.



The heavy tread of half a dozen of Nicky's "soldiers" echoed dully in the night. Darcy hugged her crossbow to her chest and concentrated on the sound of her breaths to make her racing heart slow its pace and give her thoughts focus.

Slower, calmer, centered. She drew on her inner reserve of peace, visualizing the team's victory.

She was ready.

"Get cocked," the Captain said.

Darcy rose on her knees, lifted her bow, and sighted down the shaft of her arrow, and then rose a fraction higher to point it over the railing. In the dim light provided by the lamps strung from boat slip to boat slip, Darcy couldn't sight on Nicky.

"I don't see Nicky," she whispered.

"Must still be in the cabin," Max replied. "Take out the men on the dock you can see when I give the order."

With the deck of the boat pitching beneath her knees, Darcy struggled for balance. "I'll take the first in line."

"I've got the second target," Max replied.

Once the team had selected their marks, the airwave was silent. The only sounds coming from boats nudging their slips and booted feet on wood.

Suddenly, one of Nicky's men lifted his nose into the wind.

"Now!" Max shouted.

Darcy pulled back on her trigger, letting her arrow fly. Her first target staggered, and then disintegrated. When she reached for her next arrow, Quentin leapt over the gunwale and landed on the narrow walkway between the two boats.

The rapid tattoo of gunfire erupted and her team members shouted in their mikes as they took cover.

Cursing beneath her breath, Darcy quickly pulled back her bowstring, latched it in the spring clip, and slid the arrow along the track. Armed, she slid over the gunwale, intent on following Quentin.

From all along the dock came the sounds of the ensuing battle. Curses, and the sharp staccato of machine fire ripped through the night.

"How many?" Max's voice demanded.

"I counted nine," the Captain said, his voice sounding raspy as he ran along the dock to join the fight.

"That means six to go." Max grunted, and then roared. The sounds of fists meeting flesh filled Darcy's headset.

"Emmy, get back to the van!"

"Dylan, I have a stake in this too. You're not leaving me behind."

"God dammit to hell!"

As she crept aboard the drug lord's cruiser, Darcy ignored the voices in her ear and the flashes of gunfire that burst brilliantly around her. Getting Nicky was her sole focus. Oh, and saving Quentin's butt. They were partners now. He shouldn't have proceeded without her.

She climbed up the gangway and slipped over the side, making her way toward the steps leading down into the cabin. The lights had been doused, but she sensed movement inside. Careful not to make any noise, she inched her way toward the shadowed compartment.

"Well, if it isn't GI Jane." The voice came from behind her and she stiffened, her heart lurching in her chest. "I'd recognize your sweet scent anywhere."

The team went instantly, eerily, silent. With her heart picking up its pace, she slowly turned to face Nicky Powell, her bow raised level with her chest. All she could think was where the hell was Quentin?

Quentin watched from the shadow of the cockpit, his hand tightening around the puny stake he held. Nicky had a gun pointed at Darcy. Quentin didn't dare make a move or he might distract her.

Nicky took a step toward her.

"Don't come any closer," she warned.

He sniffed the air. "I smell Quentin. He's been all over you, hasn't he?" His smile sent a shiver down Quentin's back.

"You're surrounded," Darcy said, her voice steady. "You may as well lay down your weapon. You aren't stepping off this boat."

Quentin's chest filled with pride at her courage.

"But I have you, therefore I have the advantage."

A soft click and the blur of her arrow flying toward Nicky's chest happened so quickly, Quentin didn't have time to react.

The arrow sank only to its tip.

Nicky's laughter, soft and ominous rang in the air. "Do you think you're the only ones who own flak jackets?" He plucked the arrow from his shirt. "Let's stop wasting time. Come here." He waved her closer with his gun.

Quentin watched Darcy's face and knew the exact moment she'd decided not to cooperate. She drew a deep breath and her hands clenched at her sides. He started to rise from his hiding place when she took a step toward Nicky. Suddenly, she feinted to the side.

The roar of Nicky's gun spurred Quentin from his hiding place. From the corner of his eye he saw Darcy pitch forward and over the side of the boat, her body splashing softly in the water below. He roared and launched himself at Nicky, desperate to get to Darcy.

He raised his stake and Nicky fired again, striking Quentin in the abdomen. He dropped the stake, but the bullet didn't slow his advance. His charge carried him into Nicky and down onto the bow of the cruiser. His progeny roared, his face transforming and pulling Quentin into his bloodlust.

Quentin's body and face expanded and he flung back his head with a roar of fury. He rolled with Nicky, fighting to keep his "son" beneath him. He spotted a coil of rope and reached out his hand to close around it.

Nicky pounded at Quentin's sides with his fists, but Quentin was undeterred. He grasped the rope in both hands and wound it once around his opponent's throat.

Nicky's eyes bulged as the noose tightened. His mouth gaped and his body bucked in powerful surges, trying to unseat Quentin, but Quentin pulled tighter until the nylon cut into the other vamp's throat.

With adrenaline surging through his veins, Quentin snapped the rope, severing Nicky's head from his shoulders.

When the din of his bloodlust quieted in his head, he heard the shouts of the team and Dylan as they ran toward him. He lurched toward the side of the boat and jumped into the water. As he entered it, he heard splashes all around him and bright lights shown into the murky depths.

He swam deep to the bottom of the inlet, but he didn't see her. His heart breaking, he reached into the silt and waving fronds of seagrass, searching for the place her body had settled. How long had it been? Please God, I have to find her.

His lungs burning from the lack of air, he refused to return to the surface. Every moment was precious. His hands sank below the swirling green seaweed as he swam along the bottom.

Then he saw a pale oval glimmering among the fronds. He reached and snagged Darcy's braid, pulling her into his arms. He swam for the surface, his lungs nearly bursting, praying he wasn't too late.

When he surfaced, many hands reached for his burden. Although reluctant to let her go, he lifted her body gently into their waiting arms, then heaved himself onto the planks beside them.

Max made quick work of removing her Kevlar jacket and her T-shirt. Then he placed two fingers to the side of her throat. "Her heart isn't beating."

A raw, burning sensation tightened Quentin's throat. With every fiber of his being, he fought the need to push everyone aside and gather her close to him and howl. Darcy couldn't be gone. Eternity without her was unthinkable.

His breath sounding harsh in his ears, he watched Max press his clasped hands against her chest. Captain Springer knelt beside her head and lowered his mouth to hers, breathing into her lungs. Dylan pressed her T-shirt against the furrowed wound high on her shoulder that seeped slowly with her blood.

An arm settled around his shoulders and Quentin looked up into Emmy's misty face. Then he realized he was crying. She kissed his cheek and hugged him tightly to her breasts. His arms slipped around her while his eyes burned, watching the men work over Darcy's still form.

"Breathe dammit," he whispered, willing her to live. If only, he'd moved more quickly, he could have taken the bullet for her.

The men continued to work and Quentin's dread grew. He was responsible for this. He had made Nicky. God damn his soul.

Max stopped the compressions and checked her pulse again.

Quentin saw a flutter of an eyelid. "Wait," he said, his breath catching. Please don't let me have imagined it.

* * * * *

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

Megan Hart:Read in bed!

Rhian Cahill

Eliza Gayle

Lissa Matthews

Mandy M Roth

Mari Carr

McKenna Jeffries

Myla Jackson

Taige Crenshaw

Delilah Devlin

HelenKay Dimon

Leah Braemel

Shiloh Walker

TJ Michaels

Lauren Dane

Guest Blogger: Lois Greiman (Contest!)

My First Mystery…and a Gift Card

I wrote my first romance novel about a million years ago. Since then I've penned thirty others, and I've loved every one of them. But eventually, when my kids ran away from home (a.k.a. grew up) I decided to try writing some other things. A lot of other things. I wrote a story about a talking cat (weird). I did a twisted Cinderella story (sad). I believe there was even an odd little tale about a Martian (super weird). Not to mention a host of other "stellar" ideas.

Meanwhile, I was in the market for a new agent. One of those agents read through my string of masterpieces like a real trooper, gave me a call, and informed me that she could sell the mystery. The mystery! The mystery? I was pretty sure I hadn't written a mystery. I went through the list in my mind, made sure my talking cat wasn't a mystery pet and said, "That's great. That's fantastic. Ummm, in your opinion, which one do you think might be a mystery?" She replied, "Unzipped."

Hmmm, Unzipped wasn't a mystery. It was about Christina McMullen, a sassy psychologist who has an ongoing love/hate relationship with sexy police lieutenant Jack Rivera. I wasn't exactly sure what it was…maybe a romantic suspense or a chicklit or a…mystery? Okay. Well, thought I cleverly, if she could sell it as a mystery…then a mystery it was.

That was seven years ago. Bantam published Unzipped in 2005. Since then there have been six other Chrissy McMullen novels. Uncorked was just released, and after all this time I'm still not sure it's a mystery. I mean, we have a feisty female lead looking for love in all the wrong places. We have a cop with a lot of attitude and a great assss…spect on life. We have romance, sexy dialogue, and secondary characters that I adore. Then again we do have a pretty healthy body count by the end of each book. So you tell me, is it a romance or is it a mystery?

I'm giving away an Amazon gift card to one much appreciated commenter.

Here's a little video to help you decide about the genre.

And a small clue: Francois is actually a battery-run device that has appeared in several books and sometimes gives us quotes. I can't resist snarky battery-run devices.

http://www.facebook.com/lois.greiman

http://www.facebook.com/ChrissyMcMullenMysteries

http://www.loisgreiman.com

Also just released digitally, one of my favorite early historical romance titles: The Lady and the Knight at http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/148654

 

Not sleeping…

I know all jobs are stressful. We share many of the same stresses: family obligations, co-workers who drive us nuts (maybe not so much for me since I'm SELF-employed), the need to produce-produce-produce!

I haven't been sleeping well. Lots of exciting things are maybe going to happen, and I can't settle down until all the decisions are made and the contracts signed. And no, I'm not going to talk about what in particular has me so excited, because I don't want to jinx it!

I have had several little excitements lately. Ones I can talk about.

1) The contract is signed for the Smokin' Hot Firemen anthology I will edit for Cleis! And I already have 4 submissions!

2) I received acceptances for short stories I submitted to various collections: "The Long Ride Home" for Duty and Desire: Military Erotic Romance (Cleis Press); "Marmalade" for Girls, Girls Girls (Mischief); and "Soldier Girls" for Wild Girls, Wild Nights (Cleis Press).

3) We moved my daughter into the house across the road. Now, it's just the boxes (which she and hubby can handle).

4) The dog my daughter rescued from the median in the highway gave birth to 9 healthy puppies.

All those things make me happy (maybe not the 9 puppies, so much! Why couldn't it have been a manageable 4?), but there's a ton of work I'm trying to get off my plate in case the more exciting things do happen. I finished the rough draft for Two Wild for Teacher yesterday. I'll run through it a couple of times today, then ship it to my editor. She'll be relieved. The book's coming out next month! Then I dive straight into the sequel to Five Ways 'Til Sunday. I believe it will be released in July, so I don't dare drag my feet!

So, back to the not sleeping thing…

I have pills I could take, but I don't like how I feel in the morning. The pool cooled off, so I can't get my exercise there. I have to figure out a way to turn off my computer earlier in the evening and forget about Facebook, Twitter, and whatever else is happening in the blogosphere, just to let my mind rest. But you know, when things are hopping like this, my muses go haywire. Too many ideas screaming at me to write.

When you're wired, what do you do to relax and fall asleep?

 

Guest Blogger: Cathryn Fox

One of my favorite people on the planet is this lady, Cathryn Fox. We've known each other for years and have shared space in anthologies. She's an all-round good person with a great book coming out next Tuesday, April 10th!

Public relations specialist Allison Cooper is more than ready to handle a career make-or-break assignment: to develop and market a charity calendar featuring hot men. Her only problem is Mr. July, a sexy cop who happens to be her ex-lover.

Trying to keep his image squeaky clean a must for her promotion raises all sorts of challenges, especially when this bad boy is throwing a little kink into her plan.

Image is the last thing on Carter James's mind. He agreed to be Mr. July on one condition that during his promo month, Allison never leaves his side. He wants her back, and to make that happen he needs her undivided attention to teach him good from bad. Unless bad is what the lady wants

After excusing herself, she made her way into the back room, stopping at a few tables along the way to chat with her old friends. Happiness welled up inside her as she took a quick moment to catch up with the boys. She really did miss this place, and these men.

In the back she found Madison racking the balls, and Blaine had disappeared into the crowd. She couldn't help but think that was a good thing. Unlike Carter who'd joined the force right out of high school, Blaine had joined later in life, and Carter always seemed agitated around the new rookie. Allison always assumed it had something to do with her, and the fact that she and Blaine went way back.

As she spoke quietly to Madison, detailing the events for next week's launch at the beach, she could feel Carter's eyes on her. It rattled her more than she liked to admit.

"Hey, sweet thing."

Allison twisted around, and before she could greet Blaine, he swept her into his arms and spun her. What was it with cops and bear hugs anyway?

She laughed and felt a little dizzy when he set her back down. She was just about to say hello when Carter came up beside her. He put his arm around her waist, as if to lay claim, then pulled her in tight.

His voice held a challenge when he asked, "Is there something we can do for you, Blaine?"

Standing eye to eye, Blaine glared back at Carter and tension crackled in the air.

Allison jabbed Carter with her elbow, her anger spiking. "Stop it, Carter," she said between clenched teeth, hating that he'd turned this into some sort of pissing contest.

Picking up on the tension, Madison slipped her arm into Blaine's. "Come on, big boy. I'll let you buy me a drink." Allison gave Madison a grateful smile as she led Blaine away.

"She's too good for you, pal. When are you going to stop being such a selfish bastard and realize that," Blaine shot out as the crowd swallowed them up.

Carter made a move to follow but she stopped him. "Carter," she warned. "What do you think you're doing?"

"I don't like the way he looks at you."

She fixed him with a hard look of her own and fisted her hands. God, the man infuriated her sometimes. "You should stop sticking your nose in where it doesn't belong."

"And I don't like the way he touches you," he added.

"Who I touch and who touches me is none of your business."

"Ally," he reached for her, and when she held her hand up and pressed it to his chest to keep him at a distance, Carter winced and stepped back.

In the span of a second, she went from angry to concerned. But wasn't that the way it always was when she was around Carter. He took her on an emotional roller-coaster ride and left her reeling. Then again, after feeling numb for the last four months, she couldn't deny that it exhilarated her to feel something, anything.

She eyed him carefully. "What is it?"

He pulled his T-shirt away from his skin. "Burn."

Allison shook her head and thought about the oil she'd coated him in earlier that afternoon. No wonder he was burnt. Deep-tanning oil provided very little protection from the blazing summer sun. "I'll have to talk to Drake." She lifted his T-shirt to take a look then crinkled her nose. "You need aloe. I have some at my place."

When she caught his glance and the sexy, playful smile curving his mouth, she asked, "What?"

"Was that an invitation?"

She purposely whacked him and turned away, needing to distance herself from him as much as possible. Carter's howl of pain sounded in her ears as she moved out of his reach.

"You deserved it." She tossed the words over her shoulder and grabbed her beer from the bar before making her way to the outdoor deck overlooking the ocean. The old wooden steps groaned beneath her, and she shook her head and wondered if on some deeper level, it really was an invitation. Lord knows Freud would have a field day with her.

Working to forget how infuriating Carter could be at times, she leaned against the wooden rail and inhaled the salty sea air as she stared at the ocean. The wind rustled the planter beside her and the scent of flowers filled the night. As gulls squawked overhead, the sound mingled with the roar of the surf and she stopped to think about the last time she'd been on the beach. Honestly, she couldn't even remember when she'd last gone for a swim or a run in the surf.

Carter was right, she'd been so busy burying herself in her work and trying to climb her way to the top that she hadn't made time for personal pleasure. Just thinking about it now had her wanting to go squish the warm sand between her toes, to feel the cool Atlantic water rise up to meet her feet.

"I suppose I did." The sound of Carter's voice came from behind her.

"What?" Allison spun to see him leaning against the rail a few feet away. She should have known he'd follow her. Then again, maybe on some level she'd hoped he would.

With testosterone oozing from his every pore, Carter stood with his feet crossed at the ankles and his thumb hooked in his belt buckle, pulling his jeans low on his hips. In his other hand he held his beer, and she wondered how it would taste on his mouth.

"I suppose I did deserve it." There was something about that sheepish expression he wore that made him look  sexy as hell. "Forgive me?"

"No." She turned away from him and briefly closed her eyes, completely distressed by his presence and what it did to her traitorous body.

"Hey," he said, crossing the deck to take up position beside her. "Come on. If I promise to play nice and bring Blaine a dozen donuts tomorrow, will you forgive me?"

"Since when do you ever play nice?"

He got close, too close, until their bodies were touching in that old familiar way that had her craving him with an intensity that made it hard to stay mad at him. When she turned toward him, he slipped his finger under her chin and tilted her face until they were eye to eye. His tone was soft, full of desire when he murmured, "I can play nice, Ally."

Guest Blogger: Mary Eason

What's it like to look into the mind of a killer?

What would you do if a killer were hunting you? What if you're child was the target? What if the killer was someone you knew?

What's it like to look into the mind of a killer?

Ask any author who writes dark, romantic suspense and they'll tell you, it ain't no walk in the park at times.

I think even for writers who create fictitious killers it's still a little disturbing to consider that there are really such depraved people living in the world amongst us. To make a believable killer you have to do your homework.

To quote Friedrich Nietzsche: He who fights with monsters might take care lest he thereby become a monster. And if you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you.

For me, I love to watch Forensic Files and 48 Hours Mystery on TV. You can gain a great deal of knowledge into the mind of a killer simply by studying old case files. I know it's certainly been insightful for me.

So why do people kill? Well, most psychologists will tell you there are two fundamental reasons someone will take another life.

Love and money.

Both truly are the root of all things evil.

But there is another type of killer that is far more evil and cunning than all the others. He's extremely intelligent. He can blend into society well enough to be your co-worker, your high school English teacher. Your neighbor next door. He lacks anything resembling a conscience. He's a sociopath known as the serial killer.

The FBI estimates that today there are some 50 active serial killers working among us in the US alone. That's a frightening statistic to consider.

For me, writing about the dark side of romance is both rewarding and challenging. The characters I create leave their mark on you and make it hard to move on to the next story.

And if they're really chilling, they make it hard to sleep with the lights off at night.

All the best…

Mary Eason

www.maryeason.com

Killer Moves – Available now at Samhain Publishing

They're a match made in the hallowed halls of Quantico. Until Death comes knocking…

 

 

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What kind of sandwich am I?

I know I've dropped hints here and there about my home life situation. However, I don't think I've ever fully described it. My thoughts were, who really wants to hear about real life? I'm a romance author. I must have this exciting life, and to some degree I do, but for the most part, I'm just like all of you—adjusting to life as I figure out how to take care of family.

Almost five years ago, I moved from Texas to Arkansas to live with my parents. Hubby and I had been living separate lives for a long time. Long story there, but all I'll say about it is that we grew apart. Sounds cliche, right? Truth is we both had dreams we wanted to pursue. I wanted to be a full-time writer. He wanted to get his dog-training business off the ground. He moved to Virginia, but we keep in touch almost daily. We share in taking care of our grown kids as best we can and help each other out, but the divorce was final this past month, so while we still have this deep friendship that won't end with a decree, we're both okay.

Why Arkansas? I was the only "single" sibling of four. I wanted to write full-time, but couldn't without a little support to get going. My parents' health is failing and they have this large piece of property and a solid comfortable home. It's a win-win for us all. I moved, and the daughter I left in San Antonio decided to follow just a few months later. What can I say? I'm a good mother and she couldn't stand being so far from me. We love each other to death. She doesn't want to live with me, has married, and thankfully, her hubby loves me too. So all is copacetic!

Then last year, another family emergency prompted our home to fill a little more. My grandfather passed away. My grandmother could no longer live on her own. But she wouldn't move without my aunt coming too. So now we have grandma, the aunt, my parents and myself, all living under the same roof. Thank goodness it's a large house, but we are still working out the kinks of our relationships because we are all different people. Straight and amibiguous. Atheists, agnostics, "lite" Christians, and my wierd flavor of the month religion (I have Buddhas, pagan altars, Norse and Catholic statuary blended in my rooms). We're Democrats and Republicans. Animal lovers and NOT. We struggle every day to make it work.

And while everyone right this moment is able to take care of him or herself, the day will come, very soon, when that will change. I'm going to be the major caregiver. I'm prepared for that. Or have been preparing for that. Last week the Red-Headed Hellion and her family moved into the house across the street that I bought so that she will be close by to help out.

I'm very much that "sandwich" generation everyone talks about. I have my life outside this family. My friends. My own interests, but I'm also very integral to this family—and sandwiched between the elderly members and the younger members. Both sides of that sandwich need very different kinds of help. I don't mind one bit. It's what families should do for their own, when they can.

So what flavor sandwich does that make me? Am I the bologna and cheese? Or the PBJ filling? Hearty and cheesy or gooey and sticky? Are any of you out there facing the same situation, either in the future or right now? I'd love to hear how you make it work or what you're doing to plan for it.

Now you know more about me than you might want to. Exciting news from here in the looney bin is that the pool is warm enough for swimming! I gasped through a thirty minute swim yesterday! Woot!

Just checkin' in!

I'm still in Dallas. I'll leave early tomorrow after breakfast to head home to Central Arkansas. The NTRWA conference may be small, but they pack a lot into their sessions. For my sister and I, it was well worth the trek for face time with Lindsey Faber from Samhain and lunch (which we won through raffle tickets) with media guru Kristen Lamb.

I was supposed to have two bloggers subbing for me today and tomorrow, but I didn't have time to pre-post, and the files I copied were corrupted. So sorry, Melissa and Mary. I'll make it up to you soon!

What am I coming away with? A few nuggets of new knowledge. And fresh commitment to one of my publishers (Samhain). I have to retweak my plans for the next few months' work and start out smartly in April to make it all happen.

Why should you care? You don't have to, but I have some fun ideas for things to do on this blog, so I hope you'll stop in to see what I get up to!

Y'all have a great weekend. See you bright and early Monday morning!

DD, from the Heart of Texas.

Guest Blogger: A. Catherine Noon and Rachel Wilder

Chop Wood, Carry Water: The Daily Round

"The best things are nearest: breath in your nostrils, light in your eyes, flowers at your feet, duties at your hand, the path of God just before you. Then do not grasp at the stars, but do life's plain, common work as it comes, certain that daily duties and daily bread are the sweetest things of life." -Robert Louis Stevenson

I'd like to pause a moment and ask this question: what things are necessary for us to have a peaceful, drama-less life this week? Today?

It's been my observation that the great dramas of life take our attention: shenanigans in politics, rudeness on the net, which artist died this week with whom we had no personal acquaintance but an abundance of feeling – these things become real for us, immediate, because they engage our emotions.

But not our brains. The checkbook that needs balancing, the tax deadline looming, the editing of a manuscript, the folding of laundry – these are the things that truly require our attention but that, because they are not accompanied by a ring tone or a twitter feet, become neglected.

Here are my thoughts that apply to my own daily round, but that I thought I would share for others in the hope that they, too, might find them relevant. Five things, when done daily, can change the tenor of our week.

1. Put things away when you're done with them. If you have books out, put them back on the shelf. Put the shoes in the closet or by the door. End tasks, so that when you're done, they feel done.

2. Floss your teeth. We all know we should do it, but how many of us do? Be honest now. If we called our dentist and made an appointment today, would they be amazed at what they found? Or would they want you to brush before they touched you?

3. Smile at everyone you meet. If you ride transit, smile at the conductor. Smile at the receptionist, or the checker at the store. Smile even if you have to fake it – and if you do have to fake it, make sure to include your eyes in it. Really make it a smile to be memorable and see what happens.

4. Eat your vegies. We know we should, but how many have you eaten today? Doctors recommend between five and nine servings every day, and those should be from the five different color groups.

5. Take a walk. Even a twenty minute walk can change our relationship to our bodies and to the day.

What do you do to maintain the sanity of your daily round? I'd love to know.

A. Catherine Noon and Rachel Wilder

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Check out BURNING BRIGHT, available now from Samhain Publishing.

Watch for EMERALD FIRE, coming soon from Torquere Publishing.