Delilah Devlin's Blog, page 500

Guest Blogger: Jenna Bayley-Burke

"The train wreck of my life boards in an hour. Can't be late."

– Megan Carlton, Private Scandal

I love quotes. On Pinterest I have a whole board of them. I love when someone has solidified a feeling so perfectly in words. And who doesn't love a one-liner?

"Dreams aren't real until you make them happen."

– Heather Tindall, Her Cinderella Complex

One of my favorite things to do when procrastinating is checking out what people highlight on their Kindle for my books. Shelfari has an Extras function where I can see which lines resonated with readers. Knowing I connected to a reader in that way makes me think I've done my job.

"Love. It is an incredible sensation. An amazing gift. All consuming and yet as light as a whisper. Once you've been in love you don't ever want to find yourself out of it."

– Lance Strong, Compromising Positions

Most of the time I like it that way, but every once in a while it's nice to look over and see that I connected with someone, even if only for the length of that one line. I told them a story that they liked enough to find quotable. Or highlightable for the Kindle folk.

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Jenna has new releases for both traditional and e-readers. For Kicks, her business-trip-turns-sexy book, came out a few weeks ago in all ebook formats. Private Scandal, her heiress-makes-her-ex-pay story is available for hand holding now. For more about Jenna Bayley-Burke, check out her website, blog, Twitter (@jennabb), or Pinterest — but her Pinterest has nothing to do with author Jenna, so she cannot be held responsible for pinning addictions!

Guest Blogger: Megan Hart

The Writing Process

The Writing Process. It sounds so…ominous. And important. And honestly, I have no idea what exactly it means. What IS a writing "process," anyway? Is it like…processing cheese, or what?

The obvious answer is, of course, that nope. Writing is nothing like making cheese. At least I assume so, since I've never actually made cheese, at least not on purpose. There were a few times when the milk got left out in strange places and we ended up with SOMETHING in the bottom of the cup that looked a lot like cottage cheese…Hmmm. Come to think of it, maybe the writing process is a lot like that, after all.

You put a bunch of stuff in the cup, and you let it sit in a strange place until it curdles and becomes something else.

Like magic!

For me, all books or stories start with a big WHAT IF. Sometimes these are random and meaningless and never turn into anything good. Sometimes I think they're the best ideas, ever, but they turn out not to sustain a full plot. Other times, these WHAT IF moments are tiny sparks that seem like nothing and turn out to be some of my all-time favorites. TEMPTED started out that way. Just the kernel of an idea — a man in love with his best friend…AND the best friend's wife. How would that work out? To this day, Tempted is the book I wrote the fastest. It was like a roller coaster. I got on it every morning and I wrote and wrote and wrote, and by the end of the day I was still interested in the ride.

Other times, it's not so easy. ALL FALL DOWN came about with an idea about what happens to the people who are left behind when  a cult implodes. I had a lot of ideas about how the story would go. Who'd be important in it. Subplots. Introspection. As I wrote it, though, the core of the story became more apparent and more important. The ideas I'd had about what being in a cult would mean became streamlined, and I'll confess, I found a place in which I understood why someone would want to go back to a life most people would consider horrifying and strange, how our "normal" could be terrifying to someone without the ability to process it.

So, I guess that's my writing process. Start with an idea and stir it up with a bunch of other stuff. See what sticks. Watch what comes out of it. Add different ingredients and let them ferment. Sometimes, boy, do they ever stink. But sometimes what comes out is ambrosia!

If I wanted to explore the idea of a writing process further, I'd have to admit that I do have a technical process. I sit at my computer (or less often, some other location) and I write. I write some more. I break for Twitter and email and instant message and Facebook. I write more. Then some more. When I'm done with that part, I print it out and go over it a few times, making changes. I enter them into my computer document. I read it again. Then again. I tweak and polish and change until I'm satisfied. I listen to music while I write. I drink Coke Zero and coffee and hot tea and pink lemonade. I don't often switch things up like some writers I know who write in longhand or change their location or work on different projects. My technical process is pretty simple. I sit down. I write. I edit. Lather, rinse, repeat.

Somehow, it seems like it should be more magical than that. Something with elves or something. Fairy dust. Billowing white curtains and ivory candles, my muse trilling gently in my ear while the words trip one by one from my fingertips onto the page…

Now THAT would be a process!

Writers — do you have a process?

Readers — do you have an idea of what a writer's process is like, or has the internet and posts like this ruined the idea of us slaving away in our garrets by candelight, swilling wine and whiskey and dancing to the tune of invisible voices?

To learn more about me and my work, please visit www.meganhart.com.

A Question…

Remember: The Believe Fairy Contest is ongoing! Post a comment to win!

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Just keepin' it simple today. The little ones are out of my hair. It's time to get back to work—nose to the grindstone, fingers ground to the nub—

Okay, I'm typing more than I wanted to already! It's like diarrhea of the mind!!!! Let's go to the question…

What was your best excuse when you were pulled over for speeding?

Or what do you wish you'd said instead?

Guest Blogger: Juniper Bell

I've guested on the great Delilah's blog several times now, but this is the first time I haven't had a specific book to promote. Oh sure, I have upcoming releases, but no release dates, blurbs, or excerpts. So I thought this might be a good opportunity to "introduce" myself to you all. Instead of just blabbing about my books, I can blab about myself. Just the fun stuff, though.

For instance:

* I didn't lose my virginity until I was 19. Does that sound strange for an erotic romance writer? Does it help that …

* I read my first erotica at age 10. That gave me years to fantasize before actually doing the deed.

So back to the virginity thing: I was in college, and totally in love with my boyfriend. We consummated our all-consuming passion, and I assumed we'd get married. Or at least move off-campus together. Later, when he dumped me and broke my heart, I had bitter regrets about making him my first. But I finally had something to write about in my journal, so it was all good.

* About that journal … I have stacks of them, but when I read them over, I notice one strange thing. I seem to have only written in my diary when sobbing over a boy. There are huge, years-long gaps during which, I assume, I was perfectly happy and had no need to vent to a sympathetic notebook. But anyone, reading them, would assume I was an angst-ridden drama queen who fell in love at the drop of a hat.

* I got my first pair of glasses at the age of 9. As I got older, I wanted contact lenses more than I wanted to live, but my parents refused to "encourage vanity." Guess what my first purchase was when I went off to college? Yep. After the contacts came the guy, the virginity loss, the heartbreak … hm, maybe my parents had a point.

On the other hand, there was that journaling thing … Even though I wasn't at all consistent in my journal entries, they served a purpose. They got me in the habit of writing to work things out. Whether it was sex or heartbreak, it all went into that journal. Today, it goes into my writing.

* I still get a charge out of seeing the word "cock." Why is that? I don't know! As many times as I've read it and written it, it still carries that thrilling tingle of the forbidden. Is it just me?

* I had strict parents who cared about my academic performance much more than my social life. Despite that, for me college was a chance to break free, to flirt, to fall in love, to have sex, to experience heartbreak, to really live for the first time. And when it all got too much, I had my journal. (Though I don't think I wrote the word "cock" until much later.)

So there you have it, me in a nutshell. Journal + sex + heartbreak – glasses + cock – parental control = Juniper Bell, erotic romance author. Nice to meet you!

Juniper Bell's next release, Beautiful Obsession, takes place at a college, includes diary entries, and features many, many instances of the word "cock." It's coming soon from Ellora's Cave. You can connect with her at her website, on Facebook, or on Twitter as AuthorJuniper.

Do you keep a journal? What sorts of things do you write about?

Sunday Report Card + New Contest!

We'll get to the contest. Swear. Indulge me for a minute…

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LONE HEART needs you!

Thanks to everyone who purchased Lone Heart this week! The sequel to True Heart is Lone's story where he finally finds his "one-and-only"!

If you haven't read the book, there's still a way to do something to help get the word out. Please consider taking one minute to head to Amazon and "like" and "tag" the book. Here's the link:

Post likes and tags at Amazon

If you read it, and feel so disposed, there's something else you can do to help an author out…review it! Here are the links to the book. Choose your poison. Thanks so much!

Post a review at Samhain

Post a review at Amazon

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Sunday Report Card

This week was a dismal one so far as getting new words on the page. I've been babysitting all week, and who knew a 7-year-old and a 3-year-old would be so unreasonable when asked to let Nina have some time alone at the computer. "Shhhh. Nina's working."(from the 7-year-old) "Nina? Whatcha doin'?" (from the 3-year-old) "I'll be quiet!" (7-year-old says as she pulls down pens, paper, notebooks, to create her next masterpiece.)

1) I did manage to complete edits, polish, and ship "Marmalade" to an editor.

2) I recieved, but have not read, two more submissions for the anthology project, Wild at Heart! All you writers out there, be sure to check out the details. Stories must be submitted by April 1st! Find details here

3) In those rare moments when I did have quiet, I brainstormed some new ideas. I have tons of disconnected notes for new stories. Can't wait for a stretch of time alone to think them all through!

This week, the kids go home and I get my life back. Then it's head down, because I have a ton of work to get done! But enough dreamin' about quiet time. I'm not there yet, and the 7-year-old just reminded me that we have to watch the new show "How to Rock" on Disney. So movin' on…

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Winner of the Three Signed Books Contest

Drumroll…ta-ta-ta-ta-thrummmm… The winner of the Three Signed Books Contest is…jennifer[jenniferhan....@msn.com] (email disguised for privacy)! You posted comment #13 on January 26th! Congrats, and email me to arrange delivery of your prize!

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New Contest! The Believe Fairy Contest

What can you win?

I took two pictures because the glare obscured the pretty picture. This is an Amy Brown fairy picture on a ceramic tile. You can use it in your kitchen or there's a pretty ribbon that can be used to hang it. I have a woodland fairy hanging in my bathroom, just like this one. They are gorgeous and a large 8×10 inches.

How can you win?

Post a comment every day this contest runs. Each post is another chance to win!

This contest ends on February 16th!

Saturday Snippet: Warm Places

What hotter place could a werewolf princess find herself than in Hell, the Land of the Dead? Enjoy this peek inside Darkness Captured!

"Delilah Devlin delivers an erotic tale of good and evil elevated to a higher level… The erotic scenes in this book are hotter than Hades and ten times more tempting. I dare you to resist!"

5 Cups, Coffee Time Romance

"Darkness Captured is…another steamy sensation!… Delilah Devlin is definitely the mistress of erotic romance!"

Reader to Reader Reviews

"Another hot read of dark sensuality, riveting situations and jaw-dropping desire."

Fresh Pick!, Fresh Fiction

"Devlin creates memorable characters with exceptional emotional depth. Her magical worldbuilding sets as atmospheric scene for a fast-paced story. The sexual tension runs high and the encounters are smokin' hot."

4 Stars, RT Book Reviews

Driven by insatiable desire, a werewolf will enter hell to rescue a princess captured by the Master of Demons…

Headstrong and proud—a royal creature of sinuous grace, all primal instinct and lethal beauty—the shapeshifter Gabriella has agreed to serve as emissary to the vampires who rule in the shadows of the New Orleans night. But she cannot resist the pull of the demon she glimpses on the other side of a mirror, and she is drawn to him hungrily, through a magical portal into the Land of the Dead. Now an eternal nightmare awaits Gabriella at the hands of a mesmerizing dark lord who satisfies her every erotic need…while slowly devouring her soul.

The powerful warrior wolf Guntram Brandt is responsible for the safety of the vanished princess he swore allegiance to years before. Yet it is more than a soldier's loyalty that pulls Guntram down into the depths of nightmare—for Gabriella ignites within him a burning animal passion that must be satisfied.

But when offered an escape, will she follow her rescuer to safety—torn between her lustful obsession with the dark lord who has enslaved her and her fierce sensual attraction to the only wolf who could ever master her?

 

Bright light streamed into The Master's chamber, softened only by the mesh curtains closed against the morning sunlight.

Gabriella cracked open her eyes and listened, but heard no footsteps, no breaths or faint heartbeats. She inhaled through her nose, but found only the stale aroma of sex and Marduk's fading musk.

She was alone.

Gingerly, she sat up, grimacing at the small intimate aches. Her mind spun with the images that flitted through her mind of all the nasty things she'd done. Her hand smoothed over her skin, touching on raised welts, still hot to the touch. A glance downward assured her they weren't all that visible, were no longer red, just shallow stripes of raised flesh. She pinched one and groaned, loving the way the pain induced a heady arousal that rushed beneath her skin, flushing her, heating her sex.

"I'm such a slut," she whispered.

And she was no closer to finding a means to escape. Already, her master's attentions were beginning to fill her head with thoughts of what a life here with him would be like.

However, she wasn't a bird like Simon's kestrel, which could be forever happy inside her golden cage. She was a wolf. Her innate pride and independence would eventually rise up to nip her in the ass. As attractive as the demon was, she couldn't forget what he was or where they were. Reaffirming her goal, she dropped her hands away from her hot skin and rose from the sumptuous bed.

She bathed quickly in the pool, keeping an eye out for movement from the sandy floor, but the vines behaved. Perhaps they only responded to the dragon's urgings. She ruthlessly thrust aside a niggling disappointment and finished washing her hair and body with the potted soaps Xalia had left behind.

Because even the shredded skirt and bra had disappeared, she walked nude to the balcony and brushed her hair in the sunlight until it and her body were dry.

By the time she'd finished her ablutions, she was bored and pacing inside the chamber, an edgy anger growing along with her hunger. Silently, she railed at how quickly Marduk forgot all about her when he wasn't thinking of his own pleasure.

She walked to the door, pressed an ear to the wood, but heard no sounds outside. Trying the latch, she found that this time it depressed. She cracked open the doorway and peered into the stairwell.

It was empty.

Thoughts swirled inside her head. She knew it was risky, but she longed to stretch her legs and needed to at least try to gain her freedom. And because she hadn't clothing or shoes to make an escape, she backed away from the door, shook out her hair, and let the change come over her.

Her shoulders drew back, her head fell forward, and then she dropped onto her hands and knees, barely suppressing an excited howl as hair sprouted over her skin and bones crackled and reformed. When she straightened on all fours and shook her fur, elation filled her.

She nosed open the door and sprinted quickly down the winding staircase, down to the bottom and out the door into cobbled street.

The melding aromas assaulted her nostrils, but she inhaled deeply, catching an elusive and familiar scent. She bent closer and drew in the scent, quivering when she recognized it.

Guntram was here! She dropped her nose to the ground, found another spot where his fading scent remained, then another a long stride further down the street and hurried forward, ignoring the gasps of people darting from her path as she rushed forward in her eagerness to find him.

Then she heard shouts and the heavy whomp of large wings and raised her nose from the trail she followed to see a winged creature swooping down. A thick golden ruff of fur surrounded its leonine head. Golden brown feathers cloaked its wide-spread wings, but it was the lion's paws, outstretched, claws extended, that made her heart skip a beat.

She whirled and headed the opposite way from Guntram's scent, away from the demon bird rushing toward her. She ran hard, her lungs burning, felt a snip at her tail and changed direction again. When another snip at her flank turned her again, she realized the creature was herding her, but she was panicked, couldn't take the time to think, because the thing was just above her.

Then she saw the open gates, saw the desert stretching in front of her and darted outside, flying down the grooved and graveled track to the bottom of the ridge where the fortress perched and ran for the dunes stretching as far as she could see.

The flapping grew fainter, a rumbling roar rose above her, returning to the fortress, but she was outside with a wide-open expanse in front of her, and she was free.

Gabriella ran as far as she could until her lungs felt ready to burst, then settled at the bottom of a dune and scratched at the sand, digging a hole to back inside and hide from whatever else might follow her from the air.

Only as her blood cooled, did she begin to worry. She had no water, and hunger rumbled in her belly. Worse, she hadn't a clue how far the desert stretched or if there was an end, a place beyond the hot, golden sand.

She'd have to wait for darkness, climb to the top of the tallest dune and have a look around. One thing she knew—she couldn't go back. Marduk would be furious she'd escaped.

She settled her muzzle atop her front paws. Happy at least that she was alone and had time to think about all that had happened, away from the enticements of her captor. She'd almost succumbed to his seduction, had been close to surrendering. She'd felt her will bending, nearly breaking beneath his sensual assault.

A shadow passed over the sand in front of her, so large it sunk her surroundings into dusk-like darkness.

She raised her head and watched a black cloud blot out the blazing sun. Odd, since there hadn't been a cloud in the sky when she'd watched from the balcony of Marduk's chamber. Then a distinct chill arrived on a breeze, and the blazing, empty desert blurred before her eyes.

The fur on her back lifted; her heart began to pound slowly. Something wasn't right. Then she remembered Marduk's warnings and knew she was in real trouble.

"True Hell" had found her.

Gabriella blinked, then glanced down. She was no longer a wolf, lying in a sandy den. She was in humanskin and clothed in a white shift. Her bare feet curled against cold, damp stone. Looking around her, the bare stone-block walls and arched ceiling above her head seemed familiar. She stood in the foyer of a stone keep, a tall oak door in front of her.

Voices carried from the beyond the door. She slumped toward it, her ear at the crack. Inside familiar voices whispered. Voices she hadn't heard in centuries.

Mother? Father? Dear god, where was she? And when?

"She's just a child," her mother's voice quavered.

A deep snort sounded. "She bled. She's a woman now. It's our way."

"They'll savage her."

"She'll survive. And she'll have a mate to protect her."

"It's too soon. Please husband. Let me lock her door. We'll wait until her next season. She has a right to know what is expected. I haven't had time to prepare her."

"You've coddled her. She should have known long ago."

A wolf howled in the distance, drawing Gabriella's attention from the heated conversation in the other room.

And suddenly she knew where she was, and what night this was, and her blood ran cold. Run to your room and lock the goddamn door! she screamed inside her mind.

But the girl she'd been didn't hear. Her young body heated, excitement of a sort she'd never experienced before flooded her body, moistening the place between her legs. She wondered if it was blood. Her menses, or so her mother had explained when she'd provided the rags she would use to protect her clothing. But it had ended a fortnight ago.

It was too soon for that to happen again, and the moisture was too hot and thin. Something else was happening.

Another howl, another voice, called to her, inviting her to run.

She ignored the conversation in the hall and ran on light steps to the tall wooden doors at the entrance of the keep and pushed them open. At the top of the steps, she shed her clothing, wanting to join the wolves, her playmates, in the forest.

Her mother's shriek sounded in the distance behind her, but she was already shifting, already running for the gate, her heart beating happily as she entered the forest.

Freedom awaited her there. Whining howls erupted around her and she called back, letting them know where she was as she raced toward the stream. Her pack's special meeting place.

Rabbits and deer would be feeding. A hunt would ease the tension coiling inside her body these past few days. She entered a clearing and halted, not recognizing the wolves that waited there.

Not her pack. Lone wolves. Ones her mother had warned her about. She began to back up, preparing to whirl and run the opposite way, but another blocked her path.

Low growls emanated from the two largest wolves in front of her, one a speckled gray, the other pure black. Teeth bared as the two males faced off, until the gray leapt, jaws opening and he took the black to the ground, rolling in the leaves and dirt.

She backed up, knowing she needed to escape because the other males weren't watching the fight. They watched her. And were slowly closing in.

She felt a cold nose nuzzle beneath her tail, and whipped around to snap, forcing him to jump back, but when she faced forward again, the black was on his feet and approaching, his head low to the ground, his eyes glinting in the darkness.

The other wolves continued to close in, and she began to quiver, knowing her escape was closed.

Frozen in place, terrified by the vicious flair of his nostrils and the length of white fang he displayed, she could only watch in horror. He came close, his nose sniffling along her sides, under her tail, his tongue lapping out to lick her there.

She folded down her tail and bent her back legs to escape him, but he nipped her flanks and she danced to the side, trying to evade his attention.

She understood his purpose now. Sensed on a primal level that the males had gathered because of her heat, because of the scent of arousal that carried on the wind, summoning them.

If one covered her, conquered her, she'd be his. Mated. Despite what her mother thought, she knew that much about their ways. If she was dominated, pierced and locked by his wolf's knotted member, she'd be his.

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

Eliza Gayle

Rhian Cahill

Anne Rainey

Jody Wallace

Lissa Matthews

Mari Carr

McKenna Jeffries

Taige Crenshaw

Alison Kent

HelenKay Dimon

Lacey Savage

Leah Braemel

Selena Robins

Shiloh Walker

TJ Michaels

Guest Bloggers: A. Catherine Noon and Rachel Wilder

I'm horribly behind, but wanted to stop in and say that Maria D. is the winner of the free copy of CAPTIVE HEART by Phoebe Conn! I'll post new contest news tonight!

Maria, email me to arrange delivery of your prize! ~DD

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Be Like a Groundhog

or "What To Do After the Resolution"

I'm sure by now, the grim reality of the year has set in. The blush of New Year's Day and its resolutions has worn off and we settle down to the drudgery of the daily round.

But should we?

Ground Hog Day tells us that if the ground hog sees its shadow when it's sunny, another six weeks of winter are here; if he doesn't, Spring will come early. But if you look at the calendar, there are six more weeks of winter anyway. So what does this mean for us and our resolutions?

First, if there is more than one resolution, get rid of them. Pick one. Make it your favorite, or the most important, or pick a random number out of a bag. That is your focus for the next six weeks.

Then, like the ground hog, go back to sleep.

No, I'm serious. Well, okay, don't go right to sleep if it's the middle of the day, but relax. Six weeks is a long time in which to accomplish a goal, and you need all the energy you can. We still have to pay the bills, go to work, do the laundry, etc.

Then, like the ground hog, just focus on your daily round. If your goal is exercise, incorporate that into your daily round. Write it in your planner, and decide when you're going to the gym or for a walk. If your resolution is eating differently, then write a menu plan and do your grocery shopping. If it's to write more, set your word count goal. A steady thousand words a day is achievable and can fit into a busy life, so do that: fit it in. Get up a half hour early. Use your lunch break. Write while the kids are in school or down for a nap.

And remember to rest. I think a large part of why resolutions fail is not because people are lazy, or don't want them, but because we try too hard and can't sustain the effort long-term. So throw all that out and do it like a ground hog.

Happy Ground Hog Day (After)

A. Catherine Noon and Rachel Wilder

Blog Website

Check out BURNING BRIGHT, available from Samhain Publishing.

Guest Blogger: Phoebe Conn (Contest)

I've been a little overwhelmed on the home front, but didn't want you to think I'd

forgotten about the Three Signed Books Contest. I'll post the winner and a new contest on my blog tomorrow! ~DD

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IDEAS

When I meet people and mention I'm a novelist, their first question is often, "Where do you get your ideas?" I'm absolutely shameless and will scavenge for inspiration everywhere. Sometimes I happen to overhear an enticing chance remark. Other times, I'm doing research for one book and find ideas for another. I love going to movies, and a minor character might spark my imagination in a completely new direction. A poet friend and I liked to sit in outdoor cafes to watch for people who'd make intriguing characters. When we'd spot one, he'd make notes for a poem, and I'd find a way to use him/her in a book.

One night we were in a restaurant and our waiter had a thick accent we couldn't understand. We didn't want to insult him and did the best we could, but he made a terrific space pirate who shouted orders his crew couldn't understand and follow. I also like to observe the way people move. Some have a distinctive walk, and whether it's a proud posture, or a lazy slump, I use it. Colin Firth leads with his shoulders, as an example. For fun, note how your favorite actors walk.

My February Retro Romance from Samhain, CAPTIVE HEART, is a Viking adventure I wrote after traveling through Scandinavia. There are wonderful museums there with beautiful thousand-year-old artifacts that provide excellent detail for a story. There is a museum in Oslo with the Oseberg ship found in a burial mound. It's complete down to the intricate carvings and it's a marvelous thing to see. There's another Viking ship museum in Roskilde, Denmark. In approximately 1070, the five ships were sunk in the harbor to protect the city from invasion. They were excavated in 1962 and are displayed in a wonderful building right on the coast. Standing beside them, I felt an eerie sensation, as though the ships were haunted by the men who'd sailed them. I couldn't wait to get home and begin a book where my hero and heroine sailed in a proud Viking ship bound for adventure and best of all, romance.

I'll give a print or ebook copy of CAPTIVE HEART to someone who comments. It's one of my most popular books, and a New York Times bestseller. I love to hear from fans, please send me an email:phoebeconn@earthlink.net or visit my website.

Lone Heart is here!

When temptation catches fire, saddle up and hang on for the ride.

Lone Wyatt is a long way from his Colorado home. After his brother married the woman they both loved, he figured it'd be best if he was out of the way. He'd like to have his own one-and-only, but he's in no rush. Until he saunters into a small Oklahoma town and spots Charli Kudrow. One wary glance from her haunted eyes, and he knows there's hidden fire inside her just waiting to erupt. And he's ready to tear through every objection she can think up.

Charli intends to slip out of Shooters unnoticed as soon as she's done pinning a help wanted notice to the bulletin board. But there's a cowboy at the bar with a killer smile who seems hell-bent on seducing her. And she feels something she hasn't felt in five long years of widowhood—a spark of attraction. Thinking she'll never see him again, she succumbs to temptation, only to discover that little "spark" is more like a raging wildfire.

One weekend is all he asks. One weekend to prove there's more between them than just blazing hot sex…

Warning: Sometimes, love happens in an instant, but it takes a lot of sexin' up to make one stubborn woman a believer.

Buy at Samhain

Buy at Amazon

'Nuff said, right? EXCEPT, if you have time today, please head to Amazon and "like" and "tag" my book. Every little bit helps. And if you'd really like to help, leave a review! Thanks! DD

Sneak Peek at Lone Heart!

Tomorrow's the day the Red Hot Weekend stories release. They all share a similar cover, but our stories only relate to the previous story we wrote in the Red Hot Winter series. Meaning, my Lone Heart is related to True Heart, but not to the other stories in the series. But y'all didn't come here to hear that. Y'all came to read something naughty, right? How about the first time Charli succumbs to the desire Lone Wyatt can draw from her with just the wicked sparkle in his eyes… Enjoy!

Read another excerpt

Pre-order your copy now!

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"Why are you in such a hurry? Did I scare you off?"

Her head whipped up, her gaze landing on the young cowboy.

He stood beside her truck, his gaze shadowed beneath his hat. "I'd like to buy you a drink. Get to know you."

"I can't stay," she blurted. "I've got someplace to be."

He nodded, then sighed. "Do I make you nervous?"

She forced a laugh—and told a lie. "No. But I'm late."

"Yeah. I can see that. Can I buy you a drink some other time?"

Why was he so insistent? "Look, it was just a dance. And it was nice."

"Nice? Huh." His lips twisted, then settled into a slight smile. "I made you nervous. Made you want something more than you were prepared to give. I apologize."

"I'm not nervous. I'm not anything other than late."

He stepped closer, and her heartbeat thudded. The parking lot was dark—not that she was frightened of him—but the closer he came, the more her body responded. She held up her hands. "What are you doing?"

"I think I'm gonna kiss you." His gaze dropped to her mouth.

"Why?"

His shrug was casual, but the set of his chin wasn't. "Why not? You want it. So do I."

"I don't want anything."

"Sure about that?"

"Yes, I am."

"Then why'd you just lick your lips?"

"Wha—" Good lord, she had.

"Just a kiss," he said, close enough now she had to lift her chin to meet his gaze.

Damn, she'd forgotten how to breathe. "If I give you that kiss, will you let me go?"

"Negotiating with me now?" He tipped back his hat and a grin stretched slowly across his mouth. "What if you don't want me to let you go when I'm done?"

Charli shook her head, a smile beginning to tug at the corners of her lips. She realized with a start she was flirting—something she hadn't done in years. "Are you always this stubborn when a girl turns you down?" she asked, letting a teasing note seep into her breathless whisper.

"Have you? Turned me down, that is?" His hands rose and gripped the corners of her hips. He pressed her back against the cooling metal of her truck. When his head lowered, his hat blocked the light from the moon and distant lamppost, shuttering them in darkness.

His mouth was firm and soft, sweet and spicy. His tongue prodded the seam where her lips pressed together. She wanted to remain strong, but the thought of this handsome younger man and all that firm muscle pressed up against her made her yearn for things she had no business wanting.

She opened, moaning as his tongue swept inside her mouth. I can do this. Keep it light. Dammit, Charli, keep it light.

Her hand slid across the top of his shoulder; her fingers snuck beneath his hat to pull his hair. And just that quickly, the sweet, sexy tenor of the kiss changed.

Lonny groaned into her mouth.

Her thighs opened, and he slid his between them, resuming the grinding pressure that had broken through her walls while they'd danced.

When his hand palmed her breast, she laughed against his mouth. She was as horny as a teenager, uncaring who saw them standing like this.

I should stop him now. I should. Oh God, I should…

His hand slid down her belly and slipped open her belt, unbuttoning her jeans, and then his fingers were gliding down the front of her panties. They cupped her mound.

Shocked, she grabbed his wrist to stop him and drew her head back. "That's…far enough."

He held still, his hand warming her sex. "Sorry, I pushed." But he didn't withdraw, just stood there, his breaths coming fast.

"Your hand…"

"Likes where it is."

A snort of laughter broke the tension inside her. "Seems we're at an impasse, cowboy."

"Let me pleasure you."

Her breath caught at the slight movement of one of his fingers as it delved into the top of her folds. Without consciously agreeing, she widened her thighs again, making room for him.

Her head fell back against warm metal. "Don't think I'll let you do more."

"I'm not asking for anything in return. Just relax."

With the stars blanketing the sky behind him, she relented, closing her mind to all her worries, to her embarrassment. His finger teased moisture from her folds and swirled atop her clit. The contrast between his calloused pad and soft, measured motions drew a sigh.

"You're prettier than you know," he whispered, leaning a shoulder against the truck to block the view of what he was doing should anyone exit the bar.

She had a hard time forming words to deny his claim. At this moment, she did indeed feel pretty, wholly feminine, as he plied her hardening knot with ever-firming caresses. "I'm older than you."

"I noticed."

"Not nice."

"I don't mind."

"Because you don't have to worry about me thinking there's more to this?"

He nipped her nose and then her bottom lip. "I like a smart woman, one with experience. I'm not always the smartest guy."

"You want some woman to take care of you?"

"Same as I'd take care of her. Aren't I takin' care of you now?"

She smiled, but his finger pressed hard. Her lips puckered around a sharper breath.

"That too much?"

She shook her head. "More," she whispered.

A hand cupped one breast, massaging it, soothing her as her hips began to move, deepening his intimate caress. Quivers worked their way up her thighs to her belly, and she gasped and turned her face away. It was one thing to allow a stranger to finger her, quite another for him to watch the vulnerability creep across her face as she came.

"Gettin' close?" he rasped, nearer now.

"Let's not talk."

"You don't have to say or do a thing. My gift. I'm pretty good at pleasuring a woman. Like using more than a finger though. If we had a bed, I'd spread you out, use my tongue, my teeth. There wouldn't be a part of you I wouldn't tease."

"Jesus, stop talkin'." Too late. The images were branded in her mind. Her naked, his brawny body bent over her sex.

One last, swirling scrape and she jerked, a tiny whimper leaking between her bitten lips. He held her up when her knees weakened, leaned her head against his chest, and slowly withdrew his hand.

When he cupped her chin and raised her face, she didn't try to argue with him again. They kissed—a carnal mating which left them both dragging air into starved lungs as he straightened. He waited while she set her clothing to rights, then opened the door of her truck and handed her up into the cab. "Sure you're okay to drive?"

Dazed, she nodded. "I'm fine." She felt like she should say something else, but thanks didn't feel appropriate.

He didn't seem to need an acknowledgement of his gift, tipping the brim of his hat and turning away—but not before she saw his grin.

He looked very pleased with himself, but not quite smug.

Her own lips were softly curved as she pulled away from the parking lot and onto the lonely highway.