Delilah Devlin's Blog, page 498
April 16, 2012
Guest Blogger: Brenda Whiteside
I’ll name the winner of Saturday’s free download tonight. So be sure to post! ~DD
* * * * *
Let’s Flirt!
Isn’t flirting fun? If you’re into romance, you certainly appreciate flirting.
Flirt – the word brings to mind fluttering eyelashes, sideways glances, fingertips gracing a creamy collarbone, pink tongue delicately peeking out from ruby lips, the hint of cleavage when she has to bend to retrieve her purse. Women know the art of subtle flirtatious body language.
But men can come up with some goose bump producing moves. In my novel, Sleeping with the Lights On, my heroine Sandra Holiday feels the rub of Carson’s boot against her ankle beneath the table and can’t be sure he’s purposely arousing her or keeping beat to a tune in his head.
Much flirting happens through verbal banter. We all know the words aren’t necessarily what makes a good flirt but the way they’re uttered; the double entendre, or combined with a wink or a smile.
Rachael, in Tattoos, Leather and Studs has two men flirting with her. She’s on a blind date with a man who looks like he might be a bad boy and the leader of the pack – and is sexy as you know what. On stage is the leader of the band that could pass for a GQ model. But looks can be deceiving. Tattooed date says things like, “your eyes, flecks of gold and green are amazing.” Sophisticated looking rock singer has a different approach. “Is it feeling any better, chicky?” He cast a leer at her chest. “Can I lend a hand?”
How about that first flirtatious utterance – the opening line, sometimes called the pickup line?
A friend of mine was at a country bar, scanning the crowd. A tall-blond-snake-skin-boots-tight-Levi-covered-buns-hunk drawled, “What you looking for?” When she responded, “Someone to sweep me off my feet,” he didn’t miss a beat. Swoosh!
This same friend has the best of luck with first lines. And what rings flirtatious in one country may not translate verbatim. When she met a sheik’s son at a jazz concert who told her she was prettier than all of his father’s wives, how could she refuse a date?
My favorite first line came from a guy at a public dance. He had the biggest brown eyes, thick dark lashes, and a smile that melted me. And then he said, “Hello, I love you. Would you like to dance?” Okay, a wee bit corny but it must have worked; we’ve been married now for over half our lives. After he spoke those words, the Doors had a hit single with nearly the same line. Maybe not so corny after all.
Tattoos, Leather and Studs
Rachael suspects her date, Jason, is a drug dealer, and she’s torn between her attraction for this hot bad boy and running for safety. But a famous rock star vying for her attention and spiked champagne pose far more trouble. On a blind date she’ll never forget, Rachael learns first impressions can lead her down a dangerous path and straight into the arms of love.
Tattoos, Leather and Studs ISBN: 978-1-61235-258-9
Sleeping with the Lights On
After two failed marriages and countless relationships, Sandra Holiday thinks she’s met the man to end her years of less than perfect choices; choices that not only derailed her travel-related career plans but also left her single and broke.
Carson Holiday, a Las Vegas country crooner with swoon-inducing good looks, spent his adult life pursuing a recording contract and love, never holding on to either. After eighteen years, he drops back into Sandra’s life, reigniting an attraction he can’t deny.
When Carson reappears, Sandra must choose again. Only this time, nothing’s as it seems. A secret admirer, a redheaded stalker, and an eccentric millionaire throw her on a dangerous path, with Carson her only truth.
As life confronts her with yet another turning point, will her decisions find her eternally sleeping with the lights on – or will she finally discover a way to turn them off?
Sleeping with the Lights On ISBN: 1-60154-724-2
Visit Brenda at www.brendawhiteside.com.
Or on FaceBook: www.facebook.com/BrendaWhitesideAuthor
Twitter: https://twitter.com/#!/brendawhitesid2
She blogs on the 9th and 24th of every month at http://rosesofprose.blogspot.com
She blogs about prairie life on her personal blog http://brendawhiteside.blogspot.com/
April 12, 2012
Guest Blogger: Denise Golinowski
My name is Denise and I'm addicted to Fantasy.
There. I've said it.
Is there is nothing more exciting than exploring new worlds that either faintly resemble our own, as in Urban Fantasy, to worlds that defy everything we know to be real, as in High Fantasy? Characters whose lives are played out in settings that require skill sets we've only imagined. Worlds where possibilities are only restricted by the imagination or training of the inhabitants.
Escapism at its absolute best.
As a writer, and as a reader, I revel in seeing how the "normal" person deals with the unexpected and inexplicable. The wise reader, and writer, knows fantasy is not all sunshine and roses. Things are seldom as simple as they seem, everything can possess a double edge that could slice you to the heart as easily as it will bring you your heart's desire.
And as a reader of fantasy, I adore writing it. Writing fantasy offers me so much freedom that contemporary writing doesn't. Fantasy enables me to choose any of the mannerisms and mores from diverse cultures to create my own elegant worlds and societal structures. In my book, The Festival of the Flowers: The Courtesan and The Scholar, I selected pieces of cultures ranging from Mediaeval to Renaissance to Regency to create a world that would fit for my characters, a siren courtesan and a nobleman disgraced for choosing to become a scholar.
Fantasy also provides a plethora of archetypical character types and challenges. Mythological creatures with powers and forms beyond our ken. Sacred traditions that would hold their own against any of the most orthodox belief systems of our world. Challenges that teeter between world-destroying and soul-shattering. What's not to love?
And then there's magic. Ah, the sweet seductive lure of magic. Where wishes come true, what else could a person want? However, every good fantasy reveals that within every granted wish lies a price. Often, the lesson that nothing good comes without true effort and the things that come the easiest are often the costliest. Wish for wealth and you may lose a beloved relative. Wish for success and you may lose all contact with those you knew before. Wish for peace and you discover the utter boredom of a changeless existence. Wish for anything and you may find that the joy of attainment is far less than the thrill of achieving it through one's own effort or growth.
Fantasy is my addiction and I hope to never be cured.
* * * * *
Temptation is her profession, seduction in her blood, but when a courtesan falls in love with an impoverished scholar, can she risk her heart and his life?
For a courtesan with siren's blood, drawing men to her bed is as natural as breathing, but Lisara Hammett refuses to feel anything beyond the physical. A generations-old curse dooms the women of her bloodline to lose any man they love.
Reyst Andulon does not believe in superstition nor magical creatures—but he does believe he is not good enough for Lady Lisara. Lisara begs to differ, but must risk the pain of her family curse or lose Reyst forever.
Available from The Wild Rose Press
Denise Golinowski has always been a writer. A hopeful romantic, she gravitated to fantasy and romance. Her enovella, The Festival of the Flowers: The Courtesan and The Scholar, was published September, 2010, by The Wild Rose Press. She has also had a number of short stories published, both in the Chesterfield Writers Anthologies and in online publications. Denise is a member of the Romance Writers of America, Virginia Romance Writers, James River Writers and Chesterfield Writers Club. Through these organizations and the support of three fantastic critique groups, RichWriters, Writers Endeavor, and Roses Critique Group, she continues to hone her craft.
A native of Richmond, Virginia, Denise lives with her uber-supportive husband and two less enthusiastic cats. She is currently working on a Contemporary Paranormal Suspense and more The Festival of the Flowers tales. You can find her on facebook at Denise Golinowski/Author.
Follow Denise on facebook:
http://www.facebook.com/pages/Denise-GolinowskiAuthor/127377770641256?ref=sgm
April 11, 2012
Guest Blogger: Cathryn Cade
A big thank you to Delilah Devlin for hosting me on her blog. It's an exciting day, as my new series, Hawaiian Heroes, debuted yesterday at Samhain Publishing.
This series is a new sub-genre for me. It's still paranormal, and still red hot romance. But the story takes place in contemporary Hawaii, on the Big Island's beautiful Kona coast.
Writing the story was noooo hardship. There were many cold, dark, rainy Pac NW days and evenings when I sat down at my computer and booted up Pandora Internet Radio with my personal Hawaiian station, and was instantly transported back to the warm, humid, flower-scented islands.
In fact, music can be an incredible mood enhancer. My personal soundtrack for writing the book includes such Hawaiian music greats as:
Keali'i Reichel www.youtube.com/watch?v=_YPoL5-3kZ4
Israel Kamakawiwo'ole, better known as Iz www.youtube.com/watch?v=OkFZ75V27rs
The Brothers Cazimero www.youtube.com/watch?v=GO44V3W9ULw
and my favorite, Hapa www.youtube.com/watch?v=rmmsuVi0gyk.
Listen to a few of these lovely melodies, and you'll be so relaxed all you can do is call for another mai-tai. Or book tickets for the Islands!
But, not everyone can travel, I know. It's a tough economy, and we have families to care for. I waited a long time to get back to these islands myself. And the visit from which we just returned will probably be our last for a while, as life takes me and my husband in new directions.
So, I concentrated on soaking up the soft, warm island ambience and researching locales for the second and third books in the Hawaiian Heroes series. If I use a real place in the books, it's as true to life as I can make it.
If you've been to Kona, look for some familiar places in Book II; Rolling in the Deep and Book III. And if you haven't, come along with me and the Ho'omalu ohana, family. Let us introduce you to a place you can visit again and again, in the pages of the Hawaiian Heroes stories.
And here's a link to the blurb, and an excerpt, just for you:
http://store.samhainpublishing.com/walking-fire-p-6743.html
Recipe for terror—take one Hawaiian hunk, light him on fire. Wake up to find all your dreams come true.
But instead, Malu invaded her dreams, as he had since that first night. It was the same dream as the one this afternoon, almost as if it hadn't been interrupted by waking.
And this time, she went to him, as helpless to resist him as if she were bewitched. He stood framed by the mountain, glowing with that red-gold light. He wore a crown of leaves, but they were red with fire. So was the brief kapa cloth around his hips. Geckoes scampered around him like living sparks on the ground.
As she gazed at him in awe, he turned and held out his hand to her. His dark gaze, the sensuality in the slow smile he gave her were so compelling, her body reacted helplessly.
So aroused that she was breathing in ragged pants, Melia climbed the path to him. The geckoes scampered back, making way. Slowly, she reached out her hand, wanting desperately to lay it in his. But the heat that surrounded him became too much.
She hesitated, yearning to let his heat envelop her but afraid of the results. Would his passion burn her up, leaving her empty?
Melia woke with a gasp. She lay on her back in the bed, her heart pounding, desire twisting inside her. The dream had been so real.
Rain beat on the roof overhead, trickled down the gutters and splattered on the windowsills. But only on one side was she cool. Her other side was hot, uncomfortably so, as if she were too near a fire. And the heat was emanating from the man sleeping at her side.
Melia turned her head and stared. Her breath froze in her throat; her heart skipped a beat and then began to pound even faster. Was she still dreaming?
Malu still lay on his side, facing her. His eyes were closed, his face peaceful in slumber, his big body relaxed. And she could see all this clearly, because he was glowing.
She closed her eyes, squeezing them tightly shut, willing it to be her imagination, a trick of the storm, of the Hawaiian night. But when she opened them again, it was the same. The night was dark, the rain blotting out any moonlight that might have strayed in the windows. The only light was the red-gold glow that shimmered not around, not over, but from Malu.
Slowly, clumsy with fear, Melia pushed back the blanket and began to inch away from him. She made it to the very edge of the bed, had one foot on the floor, when his eyes opened, and he looked at her. It was like gazing into the heart of dark fire.
"Damn," he rumbled, his deep voice husky with sleep. "Didn't mean to do that yet."
Aloha,
Cathryn
April 10, 2012
Guest Blogger: Kaily Hart
You've heard it. I've heard it. Ménages are popular. They're hot at the moment, right? Everyone says so. I'm talking about them within the context of erotic romance and erotica, of course 
. I hear all the time about how great they sell and they do seem to be a very popular topic of conversation on some of the loops I frequent/lurk. Is it just something that is of interest at the moment or is it a sub-genre that will continue to grow in regards to reader demand? Is it very much a niche market or it is gaining in popularity? Predicting trends like this is pretty much impossible, but I do think about different story lines and scenarios to try as a writer. To date, I've written strictly M/F romances. Sure, they're hot and steamy, but at their core is the development and growth of the emotional relationship with a HEA or at least a HFN guaranteed. I'm not sure I could get my head around the emotional threads needed when three people (or more) are involved for it to be still considered a romance. Plus, those sex scenes? I have enough of a time keeping track of 4 arms, 4 legs and…er…other body parts, without factoring in more LOL! Of course, I could write erotica. I don't have a problem with it, but it's not where I want to focus my efforts, it's not what really "talks" to me. Not at the moment, anyway. I really love to explore the complexities of a couple. I want to be as successful as I can be with my current writing and I intend to continue to write erotic romance. This plays on my mind somewhat, so I thought I'd just throw it out there:
Do you have to write ménages to be really successful as an erotic romance writer? What do YOU think?
About Kaily
Kaily Hart, a seemingly straight-laced mother of four left corporate America and a high-powered, lucrative career to be a stay at home mom. Ha! That lasted about four weeks, during which time she realized she had a deeply repressed dream—to write. And (gasp) romance at that! Who knew? By day, Kaily plays conservative wife and soccer mom, but at night crafts hot and steamy tales of romance and love with gorgeous heroes who wouldn't dream of leaving the toilet seat up. Ever. She's smart and sassy, at least in her own mind, and is creating as many happy ever afters as she can, one hot story at a time. Kaily never would have thought she'd be doing this, but now that she is? Well, you couldn't pay her enough to do anything else.
Kaily's books, PICTURE THIS, PAY UP, PLAY ME & POINT BLANK (yeah, she has a thing for book titles that start with 'P'), are all currently available from Ellora's Cave and all other ebook outlets. Kaily's first paranormal romance, the first book of a new series, releases from Carina Press in August!
If anyone would want to contact me (which I would love by the way) or just keep up with what I'm doing, you can find me all over:
Web – www.kailyhart.com
Blog – http://kailyhart.blogspot.com/
Facebook – http://www.facebook.com/kaily.hart
Twitter – http://twitter.com/kailyhart
April 9, 2012
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?
April 8, 2012
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
April 7, 2012
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
April 6, 2012
Guest Blogger: Lois Greiman (Contest!)
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
April 5, 2012
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?
April 4, 2012
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."
