Delilah Devlin's Blog, page 503

Guest Blogger: Sidney Bristol

Imagine waking up in a house with no running water, when you're used to a huge tub to soak in every evening. Using the restroom to do your business means squatting over a hole, and scooping water out of a tub with a butter bowl to "flush."

During my last year of college I had the opportunity to lead a student trip to Thailand, months after the tsunami devastated the coast. I'd spent the better part of a year preparing for this trip, but there's nothing that can prepare you for the culture shock of living in a different world. Culture shock has been part of my life, so I think I handle it better than most. That was, honestly, one of the reasons I didn't warn the girls going on the trip about using a squatty potty. I knew that without all of the comforts we were used to living with, the toilet situation was one that would be the straw that broke the camel's back.

I will never forget our first, group, squatty potty experience. I'd learned the finer points of using one while living in Russia, but the ones we used in rural Thailand were crude, cinderblock structures. We'd landed in Bangkok as riots were starting, and got out of the city as quickly as we could, which meant no potty breaks. We stopped at their version of a rest stop on the side of the highway and our guide prodded me awake.

"We're stopping so the women can use the bathroom," he said, giving the girls nervous glances.

"Oh, so?" My jet lagged brain had forgotten the minor detail of instructing the girls about the potty situation.

"They need to go." He jerked his head toward the bathrooms. "Do they know-?"

"Ooooooooh." Light bulbs flash to life.

Part of me cruelly wishes I'd videotaped the introduction of American Girl Meets Squatty Potty. I feel that it would be a great YouTube hit. The girls on this trip, except for me, had never been out of America. Their reaction when I explained that the toilets we would be seeing were holes in the ground with foot grips on the side, if we were someplace fancy, got a lot of slack jaws and wide eyes.

I have no idea why using a squatty potty is so confusing, but on this day, after experiencing a barrage of new things, but I actually had to demonstrate how one would squat to pee. You can see photo evidence to the side. Unfortunately my demonstration wasn't good enough. Do you see how my arms are stretched out? Well, one of the girls didn't understand that it was not necessary to hold ones arms straight out and couldn't figure out how to hold her skirt and extend her arms. To make matters worse, there were lizards inside the bathroom that intimidated most of the girls.

Over my handful of years I've had the opportunity to live a variety of places, eat things I never want to eat again (like crickets), and experience some out of this world things. Sure, I've gone to foreign countries, but culture shock can happen at home anytime we branch out and go someplace new. I love taking my mom out with me, for example. She says I never fail to show her something she wouldn't have seen on her own. Our world is full of new experiences, cultures and a variety of people and places in our own backyard.

What's an out of the normal experience that's stuck with you? It can be something from everyday life, or a once in a lifetime trip you took to a destination you always wanted to go to. One commenter will win a $10 gift card to Amazon.

 

* * * * *

It can never be said that Sidney Bristol has had a 'normal' life. She is a recovering roller derby queen, former missionary, and tattoo addict. She grew up in a motor-home on the US highways (with an occasional jaunt into Canada and Mexico), traveling the rodeo circuit with her parents. Sidney has lived abroad in both Russia and Thailand, working with children and teenagers. She now lives in Texas where she splits her time between a job she loves, writing, reading and belly dancing. Her debut release entitled Flirting with Rescue will be out later this month from Ellora's Cave.

Website | Twitter | Facebook | Goodreads

Saturday Snippet: Fears

Because I set my Viking books in a galaxy far, far away, I could play with the history, play with the dangers. This scene was the most fun I've had writing in a long, long while. Both Dagr and Honora must conquer their fears to save one another. Dagr was captured, feared dead, but he's leading the enemy's soldiers on a raid of his own castle. Enjoy!

"With the intriguing meshing of the past with the future this was an engrossing read…"

Top Pick!, Night Owl Reviews

"A steamy and fascinating adventure…"

Romance Reviews Today

"Clash of cultures, clash of myths, clash of powerful personalities…how many authors can bring out on paper the excitement and more-than-willing suspension of disbelief that old fashioned adventure stories once brought us?…a wonderful, action-packed, emotional roller-coaster of a read."

Alien Places

What a Viking wants, a Viking takes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She shook her head and pointed. "Look!" she hissed. "At the front of the formation. It's him!"

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

"If he runs, they'll know he he's betraying them and they'll kill him."

"If he doesn't, the serpents will eat him."



"Serpents?"

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

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

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

Cheering arose, cries that didn't diminish as the men below raised their swords and shook their fists. Their fervor filled her with exhilaration as though this were her own battle too.

Honora followed on Odvarr's heels, racing down the steps. "Should everyone abandon the keep? What if the Consortium transports some inside?"

"The house guard will handle them," he bellowed over his shoulder.

Voices shouted from below, the great iron gate that guarded the entrance to the keep was cranked up. Honora joined the press of men spilling out the gate, and followed them down a steep cliffside path to the beach below.

Along the edge of the water, a dozen or so skiffs stretched along a stone and timber dock with a steeply peaked roof.

Explosions sounded, and Honora stilled before looking out toward the advancing battalion, expecting the fire to be directed their way. However, confusion reigned on the ice.

The serpents' presence had been noted.

Soldiers fired lasers at the ice beneath them.

Ice cracked and flew upward as large-headed beasts crashed through the thick layers. Men slid down the sides of the ice floes, tumbling into frozen water and the gaping mouths of the large beasts, gnashed and chopped by rows of long teeth.

Frozen in horror, she didn't move until a Viking sped past her, knocking her to the side.

She caught the back of his cloak. "Take me with you."

He scowled, but didn't pause.

She took it as assent and ran after him to the end of the dock and the last skiff.

"I'll steer," he said, "you cling to the bow. When we fly past them, offer your hand." With his sword, he cut the ropes cradling the boat. It fell onto gritty powder, and he dug his heels in and pushed with all his might to slide it out onto the ice.

Honora followed closely, unwilling to let him leave her behind and managed to jump onto the bow when the skiff glided free. She clung to handholds as he dropped the sails and the craft lurched and skimmed crazily across the ice until he steered with the ropes wrapped around his back and flowing through his hands.

Honora's hood blew back in the wind, but she didn't care. She didn't want her sight obscured. "There," she cried triumphantly and pointed as she spied Dagr and his contingent skimming on their feet across the ice just ahead of the men running for their lives on loud cleats behind them.

"The sound attracts them!" she called out to her fellow sailor, and he flashed a smile. "Won't our noise attract them as well?"

He laughed and jerked a chin toward the crowd. "They are far louder."

Honora watched the horror unfold. Sea beasts lifting the ice, crashing down over men, large mouths opening to clasp around their waists and carry them under the blue water.

Consortium soldiers ran until they were isolated on broken floes, then lay pressed against the ice, some with hands over their heads to shut out the screams, some sitting and firing over the edges at the beasts circling below them.

The Vikings stayed ahead of the front rank of ground-fighters. Before long, some of them realized the trick that had been played and raised their weapons to fire at Dagr and his men.

Faster boats skimmed across her skiff's path, spears sailed, slicing through the air, arrows winging in delicate arches to thud into soft necks and eyes left vulnerable when the men threw down their shields in their helter-skelter run.

Once she saw a skiff closing in on Dagr, she shouted to the man behind her. "Get me closer to the front line! This has to end."

When he drew near enough to be heard, she stood, one hand on the mast of the small skiff. "Put down your weapons, you can't save yourselves without our help! Put down your weapons!"

Skiffs had already carried their own back to shore, but turned back to pick up soldiers who threw down their weapons.

In the rear of the scattered formation stood Arikan, his back straight, but unmoving. He'd figured out what attracted the beasts. Had he bothered to tell his own men or had he let them draw away the beasts' interest to save himself?

Her companion skimmed along the edge of the unbroken ice, careful not to slow their pace because dragons streaked beneath them, their brightly hued bodies curling, and then shooting toward another hapless victim.

Open water separated her skiff from the rear of the battalion and the commander's own guard.

His eyes blazed, promising retribution. Then a portal opened behind him. He and those closest to him hurled themselves toward it, barely beating one giant serpent whose head followed them through only to be cut off when the light blinked out. Its body slipped slowly into the water.

She only had a moment to wonder at the uproar the beast's head would cause aboard the ship. A blast of light streaked toward her, too fast to avoid. The mast splintered beneath her hand and with a shout, she was tossed overboard onto the ice, skimming face down on the slick surface and watching a blur of orange swim beneath her.

*~*~*

Just as his skiff crunched against the rough edge of the beach, Dagr jumped to the ground then spun to see how the battle fared. What there was left of a battle anyway. The action was mostly a retreat—an ignominious run for safety. He counted heads quickly, assuring himself that every one of the men who had accompanied him had made it.

Frakki ran to his side. "Shall we save the bastards?" he said, disgust flavoring his tone. He nodded toward the Consortium soldiers doomed to die if the Vikings didn't mount a concerted rescue.

Odvarr loped toward him, his chest heaving, his face creased with worry. "Dagr, your woman!" he shouted, pointing toward the open waters.

A woman was on the ice! Dagr turned in time to see a slender figure pitch over the side of a skiff and slide on her belly perilously close to the edge. He didn't bother asking what Honora was doing there, or more precisely, what she was doing on the frozen water. He broke into a run, heading for the closest boat, Frakki on his heels.

They both swung up, Frakki taking the steering ropes, and Dagr balanced on his feet at the raised nose of the small craft. He cupped his hands around his mouth. "Stay still, Honora," he shouted, although the wind, the hollow roars of the beasts, and the screams from the remaining soldiers drowned out his voice.

He ignored the slashes of laser light that pounded the ice around him, dared the soldiers sure to die a gruesome death to kill him because he wasn't turning back. If the goddess Hel herself reached up from her frozen kingdom to drag him down, he'd fight her.

"Dagr…" Frakki said quietly, dread in his voice.

"I know."

Beneath them a dozen of sea serpents in blue, green and orange swam, tracking them like prey, spiraling, shooting away for a few feet then circling in closer.

One tapped beneath the hull of their small craft, and the ice groaned and crackled.

Behind them, came the scraping sound of more skiffs joining them on the ice. His men were skilled with the boats, often skimming just off shore. Just far enough to drill into the ice to fish, but close enough to the keep that the guard on the wallwalk could give them fair warning. None of his men were as skilled as he at escaping the beasts because none dared travel the open seas.

Still they followed him, shouting and hitting the ice with the points of their pikes to draw the beasts away.

In the distance, Arikan's men continued to fire, shredding the solid surface beneath their feet in their panic, drawing the creatures who banged their heads from below to crack the ice, then shoot upwards, mouths agape to catch the men before diving deep to devour them.

Dagr could only worry about one Consortium officer, who now lay on her belly on the ice, her face turned toward him, her eyes beseeching. That she was terrified was evident by the paleness of her skin and the roundness of her eyes. And by her silence. Honora was rarely silent.

When their skiff drew near, Frakki slowed only a fraction, just enough for Dagr to jump off the boat. He rolled, leapt to his feet, and ran for his woman, brandishing his sword and hoping that another of the boats was close enough to retrieve them once he had her before the dragons burst through the ice.

He prayed as never before—to Thor who'd blessed his fathers' sword. Prayed, just like Thor who'd felled the giant Hrungnir with his mighty hammer, that his sword and his will would be enough to save the only person who'd ever made him feel complete, the woman who held the other half of his heart.

* * * * *

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

Megan Hart — Read in bed!

Eliza Gayle

Rhian Cahill

Anne Rainey

Jody Wallace

Lissa Matthews

Mari Carr

McKenna Jeffries

Myla Jackson

Taige Crenshaw

Alison Kent

HelenKay Dimon

Leah Braemel

Shelli Stevens

Shiloh Walker

TJ Michaels

Guest Blogger: Sharon Hamilton

Toys for Tarts: Road Rage

I attended a writing conference last Spring at Asilomar, the beautiful conference ground designed by famed architect, Julia Morgan. We'd had long walks on the beach, brainstorming sessions with other romance writers and craft classes taught by Margie Lawson.

During one of the lunch breaks, we somehow got on the subject of sex toys—vibrators, to be exact. Okay, I'll admit, I had just published The Stimulus Package, under my erotic pen name, Angela Love. Someone asked me about it, and that set the ball in motion. Ask me about my writing and then expect me to shut up? No way. It started to bend the conversation in a very naughty direction. But hey, we were there to have fun, even if a couple of ladies at our table blushed and could hardly speak.

I'm sure the rest of the two hundred or so attendees were wondering what all the laughing was about. We told stories of things that had gone wrong, what kinds of toys we had bought and how they had been misused. One of my friends told the story about her friend, who was a sex toy sales rep, who happened to use a large purple vibrator in traffic.

This isn't what you think. She was pleasuring herself, but not in the usual way. She extended it through the sunroof of her car at some guy who had been tailgating her for miles.

I asked for and received permission to use this idea for my third in the series, Toys for Tarts, Book 3, Road Rage. So, while this is based on a real incident, the story is entirely mine.

I like reading humorous sexual escapades because it imitates life. Not everything is the old bump and grind. Things that spice up a relationship between two consenting adults can sometimes be funny. They might even be more memorable.

I'm working on Book 4 now: Occupy Me. My lips are sealed until I get this puppy put to bed. But I am having fun with these light reads—sweet treats for me, and so fun to write.

Here's an excerpt from Road Rage. The Teri Stanton has just left an office party and escaped an embarrassing incident with the boss's son, Tim Benson. Her lustful thoughts about him have kept her in this low-paying job longer than she intended. So she has taken a part-time job as a sex education instructor for ESL students on path toward citizenship. She's about to teach her last class of the semester.

Excerpt, Road Rage:

I checked my watch again. I had just enough time to drop by the Health Care office before my class, to pick up the lesson plan. Tim was absorbing energy from the room of clucking hens, so I made my exit.

Sandy Morgen was the Director of the Health Education program for the county. I breezed in, sure my cheeks still hadn't deflamed. I was shameless. It didn't matter one whit.

"Hi Sandy, sorry to be a little late. We had a shower at the office."

"Oh? Who did you shower with?" She smiled like a pampered palace cat, batting her green eyes.



I could feel my cheeks return to their former redness. My tongue wouldn't work. I was just happy I hadn't swallowed it by this time.

"Sorry. Couldn't help it."

I accepted her apology with a nod.

"I have a little plan on condoms tonight." She placed a purple tin in front of me. It was approximately ten inches long and five inches wide. "Go ahead. Open it. It won't bite."

I did. I nearly dropped the lid when I saw a bright pink plastic penis with a metal cord running down the interior of the clear latex sheath.

She leaned over, picked it up and the thing quivered. It was very life-like.

"You will demonstrate how to put a condom on, like this." She tore open a foil packet, slipped out the condom with two red fingernails, and placed the sheath over the penis. Holding it up, glistening in the fluorescent light of her office that suddenly seemed too small, she spoke to it.

"Wave."

A mechanical voice repeated, "Okay. Wave." And then the thing flopped from side to side.

I must have jumped up out of my chair, because I was suddenly standing.

"You wanna try?" she asked.

No. I don't want to touch that thing.

"Stop," she said and the device stopped.

"Where…"

"It's one of mine," she said.

One of hers? How many did she have?

I'd never seen one before.

"See if it will work for you. Tell it to wave." She said the last word in a whisper. "It's very sensitive," she continued to whisper, but looked at it with devotion written all over her face, and handed it over to me.

I grabbed the thing, held it by the base and said, "Wave."

Sure enough the little glistening pink penis began to wiggle back and forth, doing it's best.

"Okay. All set? I gotta run." She stood as well. "You can return it to me Thursday night, okay?"

I tucked the bright pink vibrator back into its purple satin bed, and closed the tin lid. Then I slid the silver coffin into my briefcase, already bulging and stuffed to the gills, and headed down the polished hallway on my way to the new continuing education wing. Of my old elementary school.

Wonder if any of the kids are still around?

I wasn't that lucky. The parents were. A whole group of adults piled into a classroom, turning to smile at me, like I was a real teacher, and then tittered at the ringing bell, signaling the beginning of the evening session. I padded down the empty hallway, peering inside glass windows of the closed classroom doors I passed along the way.  Each bevy of parents sat in rapt attention.

Freaking Back to School Night? I have to demonstrate how to put a condom on a vibrator and it's Back to School Night?

I remembered how interested my parents had been when my big sister and I attended this school almost twenty years ago. By the time high school came along, fueled partially by our outrageous behavior and time spent in the Principal's office, we were lucky if they attended a single parent event in a whole year. My parents tended to avoid officials, like it was their fault how we'd turned out.

I pushed the tin box further down into the bowels of my briefcase, but the thing still stuck out a good four inches. I kept walking, seeking the safety of my classroom.

At first, I thought my little room was vacant. Maybe it was my imagination, but my adult students seemed to be moving further to the back of the class each week. Thank God this was the last one.

At least I'm as boring as my teachers were way back then. Poetic justice, clear and simple.

Amit was in his usual place front and center, with his usual grin, which was starting to look a little deranged. I didn't think today's lesson would help that one bit. But I really didn't know what was going on with the guy at all. We'd see.

I addressed him with a "good evening", which he returned. I wondered if this class was the highlight of his week, and my stomach plummeted with the realization that it probably was.

Several languages were being spoken as little groups had formed. Felicia's voice and laugh was loudest. I knew just enough Spanish to know she had invited the men around her to go dancing with her on Friday night at the Fairgrounds. I lived nearby, and had gotten used to the Mariachi music blaring into my backyard. It was another thing entirely when the monster trucks and tractor pulls came to the fairgrounds. Felicia engaged much discussion about the color of the cowboy boots they would be wearing, and of course Felicia's were red.

Why doesn't that surprise me?

I asked the class to settle down, and signaled they should fill in the seats at the front of the room. What, so I didn't feel lonely?

"I have a demonstration tonight," I said.

I mean, they do know it's a sex education class, right?

Several of the members slipped quietly into seats. In the back.

"Come, come. Here," I motioned. The class was full tonight, no doubt everyone expecting they'd get a diploma. Three very thin dark-haired men sat in a row two seats behind Amit, but everyone else stayed in bunches at the back.

What did I care? Just get the class over with and go home. I was tired, and regretted having had the sweet punch and cake this afternoon. It wasn't a good substitute for dinner.

I pointed to the charts with the pyramid and Nile rivers, and delivered my lesson plan on the reproductive cycle.

"I don't think I have to tell you where babies come from," I said at last. I got nothing but blank stares. "I know you know that, you just can't understand me, is that right?" I was actually getting a little tired of the non-response, so I sighed. "Look, I don't know why they bother to give you these classes since no one speaks English. It isn't my job to teach you. You're all bright enough to learn that on your own, right?"

I nodded my head, and then said it again with emphasis. "Right?" This time most of the class answered,  "Right," and nodded as well.

"And I'm guessing all of you are way more familiar with condoms than I am, right?"

"Right." They responded, more to my head bobbing than my word cue.

"They want you to wear them because you might pick up a disease, but they also prevent unwanted pregnancies, right?"

"Right."

"But we all know babies come from storks, so this little demonstration is really useless. I'm going to do it anyway." I was feeling snarky. I should have seen this as a danger sign. Since I had forgotten to say, "right" the group sat motionless and watched me. Some were frowning. Two of the men behind Amit whispered between themselves, shaking their heads and I heard the word "baby" spoken by one of them.  I doubted they knew what a stork was. But I'm sure they knew what the word baby meant.

So now it was time. I got out the silver tin and placed it on the desk. Felicia was especially interested, leaning forward. I hoped she didn't understand what was inside. And if Felicia didn't, good bet no one else did either.

My fingers were shaking as I removed the lid. Why? I pulled two little gold foil packets from my briefcase. Laying them on the desk next to the box got some attention from the crowd, but no one in the first four rows. Oh. My. God. Perhaps they've never seen one before. That would mean…

I sighed.  Showtime. "I'm going to demonstrate how you put a condom on a man's…a man's…how you cover a man's…package with these latex condoms."

At least I'd gotten out the words. That was half the battle, right?

I whipped out that pink vibrator like I did it every day. The thing shimmered in all its glory, as if sensing the crowd and loving the stage presence.

The collective gasp was bisected by the sound of a very large bell buzzer. My students looked at the ceiling, like perhaps the sky was going to fall, or the wrath of God was going to come down upon us all. A couple of the men in the very back covered their eyes, ducked and pointed at me. I could hear the panicked chatter over the sound of the bell.

I think it rang twice as long. Was someone making fun of me and this little scene? I waited until it stopped before proceeding. Gripping the base of the vibrator firmly, I tore open the foil packet with my teeth. This was also a move that proved disturbing to several of the men. I spit out the top of the foil strip, since I didn't have a free hand.

I removed the shriveled condom with two fingers, palmed it, then placed it over the tip of the vibrator and sheathed the pink glistening protuberance, like it was no problem. I mean, this is useful information, right?

Success, thank God.

I held it up by the base for all the class to see.  A line of men formed at the rear door, itching to escape. Felicia was laughing, as was the whole of the group around her. The men in front were whispering and pointing sharply. Amit stayed right there and continued to grin without a change in expression. Now I knew something evil lurked inside him.

I needed to make the point about how the condom had to stay on, even though things were probably heating up. And then we'd be done. I could wipe the gel from my fingers on the moist towelettes I always carried in my briefcase, and I'd soon announce they all passed, and the Department would send out their proof of class. If their addresses were current, that is.

So, with just one point to make, something wild in me came out. There was a reason my mother called me the devil-child.  I used to think it was because of my flaming red hair. As I looked at my class, I found the courage to say, "Wave."

Covered in the clear tubing with lubricant, the vibrator did a bow like an actor on a stage. But the audience bailed. I mean, it looked like a theater crowd running to escape a fire.

Just before my classroom doors were pushed open, I saw several faces peering through the window, disbelief written all over. I knew I wouldn't be asked back for the second session. My career in sex education was toast.

* * * * *

Hope you've enjoyed this little fantasy tidbit. Tell me, do you have a funny story involving sex toys? I'd love to hear it.

Sharon Hamilton/Angela Love

angelaloveauthor@gmail.com

http://angelaloveauthor.com/books.html

http://sharonhamiltonauthor.blogspot.com

http://www.sharonhamiltonauthor.com/books.html

 

 

The Guest "Skedge" and a Question

Remember, there is still one contest running…

The Ellora's Cave Grab Bag Contest (ends January 17th!)

* * * * *

Just a couple of short announcements today.

First, I didn't announce it here, but Ravished by a Viking is up for a Romance Studio CAPA award for best historical! Woot! I'm always over the moon when something I slaved over gets recognition. Especially, when I know it's something different, and sometimes, different isn't applauded. So, yay!

See? That was a very short brag!

So on to the meat of this post. I'm flying to DC to see my son and his family. I haven't seen them in a long time, so I'm very excited about the trip. My ex lives there too, and I'll be spending some time with him as well. The Red-Headed Hellion and the 7-year-old are going with me. We have a purpose, besides seeing everyone. I'm picking up the ex's Honda Pilot and driving it back. Seems like I used to inherit his old cars when we were married, too. Hmmm… He keeps them in perfect nick, so I don't mind so much and it gives me the perfect excuse for a road trip—we'll be driving the car back from DC. I'll be sure to take pictures!

While I'm away, I have guests who are coming to entertain you! Please  drop by and give them some encouragement. They really are great guests! Here's the lineup:

Friday — Sharon Hamilton

Saturday — me, I'll pre-post a Saturday Snippet and give you a chance to win something!

Sunday — Sidney Bristol

Monday — Taige Crenshaw

Tuesday — Rachel Firasek

Wednesday — Ann Jacobs

Every time you post a comment, you are adding an entry to the Grab Bag contest.

So, enough biz-talk. Let's share your experiences.

What is the most incredible weather event you've ever been through in your life? (Question from "The Question Guys")

Guest Blogger: Jenna Ives

Thanks for letting me guest blog today, Delilah!  I'm Jenna Ives, and I write contemporary erotic romance novellas.  I love novellas, because with so much technology at hand these days (texting, tweeting, e-readers, smart phones, video game players, etc) it seems everyone is developing a shorter attention span.  And novellas are the perfect way to satisfy a romance reader's appetite for stories without having to make a long-term time commitment!

Since novellas are by definition short, I'll share my secret for writing erotic novellas with you:  as the story opens, I immediately put my characters into a situation where they either have to have sex for a particular reason (there are many fun ways to do this, and author Leigh Court is my personal favorite for coming up with creative situations) or else create an event where your characters are forced to stay together for a certain plot reason. Voila! Instant tension! And in an erotic romance, that means the sexual sparks fly!

My new novella, Snow White And Her Seven Lovers, was inspired by both Kristen Stewart's upcoming movie "Snow White And The Huntsman" as well as Julia Roberts' spring release of "Mirror, Mirror."  It looks like 2012 is definitely the year of Snow White!

Here's the blurb for my erotic version of this classic fairy tale, which I've written in first-person from our heroine's point of view:

What's a girl to do when she wakes up poisoned in the ER and finds that she's lost her memory, her family, and very nearly her life?

That was me. Three months ago. With no identity, no money, and nowhere to go on the day I was discharged from the hospital, I gratefully accepted my gorgeous ER doctor's offer to move in with him and his equally gorgeous six friends – the ones who'd found me unconscious in an apple orchard. My plan was to stay only until my memory returned, and I could figure out who I was and if someone really had tried to kill me.

Together with Doc, these were an amazingly diverse bunch of guys, but there was something about each of them that attracted me powerfully enough to want to explore it. The policeman with his clever handcuffs. The cunningly linguistic librarian. The disciplinarian teacher. The virgin computer whiz who loved to play sex games. The engineer who created shotgun orgasms. The wildly imaginative baker.

Becoming intimate with these seven men completed me in ways I suspected discovering my name never would. That is, until the fateful day a man showed up claiming to be my fiancé…

Oooh… conflict and lots of steamy love scenes!  A real page-turner. But by far, my most favorite part of writing this story was coming up with jobs that realistically lent themselves to the characters – Doc is the obvious one (he's the ER doctor who saves our heroine's life) but if you read this story, I'd love to hear from you about my choices for the six friends' occupations J  Grumpy? Dopey? Sleepy? Sneezy? Happy? Bashful? Are the real-life jobs I've chosen for these characters believable?

Snow White And Her Seven Lovers is available through amazon.com, bn.com, Smashwords.com, or at my website, www.jennaives.com. 

So…. which fairy tale is your favorite?? And how could we spice it up a little?

 

Winners, a New Contest, and a Question!

I have two winners to name, but you'll have to slog through the "deets" of the new contest!

* * * * *
The Ellora's Cave Grab Bag Contest

I have a great big bag of stuff to give away to one lucky winner.

What's in the prize pack?

Things too numerous to mention, but which include:

A signed book by Lila DiPasqua (not an EC author, but since I had a copy of The Princess in His Bed, I thought I'd add it to spice up the pot!)

A sexy mouse pad signed by Liz Andrews

A J.K. Coi and Christine D'Abo water bottle

A multitude of trading cards, bookmarks, excerpt booklets, pens, Post-It pads, etc.

What do you have to do to win?

Post comments on this blog or on my Facebook Fan Page, from now until the contest ends! Each time you post counts as another entry!

Since I'll be away on a trip to DC, I'm extending this contest through January 17th!

Here's a question to start today's conversation:

What's the difference between innocent flirting and cheating?

 

* * * * *

So back to those winners…

Thanks so much to everyone who participated in both contests.

The winner of The Fairy Trinket Box Contest is…Linda Womack!

The winner of Cynthia D'Alba's free download of Texas Two-Step is…Vicki Batman!

Congratulations, ladies! Thanks for playing. Be sure to send me an email

to arrange delivery of your prizes.

What films are you eager to see in 2012?

Remember, there is still one contest running…

The Fairy Trinket Box Contest (ends tomorrow, January 3rd!)

Yesterday's winner is named below!

* * * * *

Here are my picks!

Vamps rule—especially, when they're kick-ass girls!

I showed this one to you before, but it bears seeing again! I'm still waiting for it to release somewhere I can see it!

Keanu as "Neo" is forever cool!

* * * * *

The winner of the free download of Jacq's Warlord is…Rhonda! Rhonda, congratulations! Be sure to email me to arrange delivery of your prize!

Happy New Year!

Here's wishing everyone a happy new year! Thanks to my online friends who have joined me here to play—you keep me excited to seek my keyboard every morning and find out what happens when I open a new blog. Thanks to all who bought my books—you provide me the means to stay at home and live my dream of being a full-time writer. Here's hoping you all find happiness, good health, and a little more gold in your pockets this year. Cheers! ~DD

End of Year Recap

The year's a wrap! In case you missed it, these are the releases I've added this year:

1. 01/04/11 – RAVISHED BY A VIKING (Berkley Heat)

2. 01/04/11 – TRUE HEART (Samhain)

3. 04/01/11 – THE ONLY GAME IN TOWN, Lesbian Cops (Cleis Press)

4. 04/06/11 – HANDY MEN (Ellora's Cave)

5. 05/01/11 – TIME RAIDERS: THE WARRIOR'S TOUCH (Harlequin Nocturne)

6. 05/01/11 – DR. MULLALEY'S CURE, Carnal Machines anthology (Cleis Press)

7. 05/01/11 – DREAMING BY THE SEA, Dream Lovers anthology (Cleis Press)

8. 05/13/11 – BEGGING FOR IT (Ellora's Cave)

9. 05/27/11 – HER SOUL TO KEEP (Kindle/Smashwords)

10. 06/14/11 – UNDENIABLE (Samhain)

11. 08/23/11 – HOT OUT HERE, The Mammoth Book of Hot Romance (Running Press)

12. 09/13/11 – GIRLS WHO BITE (Cleis Press)

13. 09/14/11 – A FOUR-GONE CONCUSION, Lone Star Lovers sequel (Samhain)

14. 09/20/11 – B IS FOR BONDAGE (Ellora's Cave)

15. 09/21/11 – GILDED CAGE, Bitten in the Big Easy anthology (Ellora's Cave)

16. 10/04/11 – ENSLAVED BY A VIKING (Berkley Heat)

17. 11/22/11 – FIVE WAYS 'TIL SUNDAY, Delta Heat series (Samhain)

18. 12/06/11 – RED HOT WINTER anthology (Samhain)

19. 12/13/11 – DRIVE ME CRAZY, Best Erotic Romance of 2012 (Cleis Press)

Snippet Saturday: Endings

I don't usually hop around a book as I write it. The story unfolds for me just like it does for the reader, from start to finish. However, when my sister and I wrote Jacq's Warlord, we only had the opening of the story done before I had the final scene complete inside my head. Endings can be as important as beginnings. I hope you enjoy the ending of our one and only time-travel novel. It always makes me cry.

"…Set in the time and in the battles fought as Henry takes the English throne, the combination of battle action and sexy romance makes this story a standout."

5 Stars, Just Erotic Romance

"…if you are looking for a book full of action, adventure and lots of humor I recommend that you suspend your disbelief and find yourself drawn into the vibrantly portrayed world of JACQ'S WARLORD…"

4 Crystals, Erotic Escapades

With proportions that would make Xena weep, Jacqueline Frazier despairs of ever finding a lover she can't intimidate. Until the day she ignores an itty-bitty warning regarding the use of a family heirloom, and finds herself swept off her feet by a knight in not so shining armor, back to the twelfth century. Forced to accept the protection and sexual attentions of the overbearing, beast of a man, Rufus of Rathburn, Jacq struggles to find her place in the past while searching for a way back to the future. In the meantime, she aids Rufus's war cause with a little 21st century ingenuity. Nothing like shaking up the warlord with lessons in bomb-making, guerilla tactics, and the Joys of Sex.

At first unwilling, and downright ungrateful, Rufus begins to see merit in Jacq's odd ways. Through Jacq's eccentricities and willfulness, Rufus learns she is a woman to be reckoned with, not to mention she is a lusty handful in bed. Will his admiration of her cunning, strength and uninhibited sexuality grow into a love that breaks the barriers of time? And will their love be strong enough for Jacq to plot a different future in the past?

Tom Frazier moved restlessly through the rooms of the two-story house he'd shared with his daughter. The past week had been the longest of his life—even more terrible than the time he'd returned to the States to bury his wife. Jacq's dramatic abduction and ultimate disappearance had made national news. Despite all the hype, not a single viable clue surfaced leading to her whereabouts. Worse, it was anyone's guess whether she was still alive.

In his heart, Tom believed Jacq's spirit was invincible. While investigators began to lose hope of finding her, Tom's conviction grew stronger. Patience and consideration of even the tiniest lead would bring her back.

If only he hadn't arrived late at the Faire. If only he'd been there for Jacq. The sea of emergency vehicles and news vans had been his first clue something was terribly wrong. All entrances and exits to the fairgrounds had been sealed off by the police who were interviewing as many witnesses as they could before they scattered.

Tom had been turned away, but the need to assure himself Jacq was unharmed led him around the perimeter to the workers' entrance, an area not as closely observed. He'd slipped through the fence and run to the storyteller's stage. Yellow crime scene tape confirmed the sick feeling growing inside him even before he heard the details from the young officer standing guard over the area.

Tom's nightmare grew grimmer as witnesses were released to go home and the last of the forensics team packed their tools and left the grounds. Tom himself had spoken to many of Jacq's friends, but they couldn't shed any more light on the mystery. Everyone shared the same disbelieving horror. How could something like this happen to one of them?

How could a rider dressed in full armor, carrying a struggling woman, disappear so completely? But beyond the spectators who had watched the performance and, at first, had believed the abduction was just a part of the act, no one had seen them anywhere else within or outside the fairgrounds. Witnesses' reports had become more exaggerated with each telling. Many claimed they had simply vanished into the fog that had suddenly enveloped the stage.

Even more odd was the ancient artifact found at the foot of the stage. Spectators said the man in armor threw down a blood-encrusted shield before whisking Jacq from the stage. It appeared to be an authentic relic from the Middle Ages. The FBI had sent it to their lab for a more analysis of its origins.

Beyond posting a reward for information leading to her return and papering Atlanta with Jacq's picture, Tom could do little more than wait by the telephone. He wandered aimlessly into the living room and sat down on the edge of the sofa. The house was so still, almost like it too was waiting for Jacq to breeze through the door.

In his mind he saw her everywhere, and he drove himself crazy thinking that sometimes, if he just listened close enough, he could almost hear her speaking.

A wave of despair swept over him and he leaned forward unable to hold back the sobs. His body shook with the force of his grief, his eyes streaming. When he ran out of tears, he clasped his hands together and did something he thought he'd forgotten how to do. He prayed.

Tom awoke several hours later to complete darkness. He fumbled for the lamp switch beside the sofa and winced when the light glared to life. Head pounding, he rubbed a hand over his eyes to ease the lingering gritty feeling. How long had he slept? Perhaps the longest he had since losing Jacq.

Well, he was wide awake now. He might as well make a cup of coffee and keep vigil beside the telephone. As he rose from the sofa, his foot bumped against the wooden box housing the ancient book Jacq had been so excited to receive. His last image of Jacq was her avid expression as she sat hunched over her old treasure.

When he hefted the book out of the box, he felt somehow closer to his daughter than he had in days. With the book under his arm, he strode to the kitchen for coffee.

While the rich aroma of fresh brew chased away the last cobwebs from his head, Tom thumbed through the aged pages of the book. He couldn't read the handwritten pages near the front of the book, although he could make out a few of the words. With great care he turned each page slowly, one by one, careful not to damage the parchment or Jacq would have his hide.

When he neared the middle, he slowed. Jacq had been particularly interested in something scrawled in the book around this point.

Tom slid his finger beneath a page and gently turned to the next. His heart raced, and he held his breath. He recognized the angular scrawl. But what was it doing in the book? The writing was faded with age, as ancient as the entries before and after it. But it was penned in modern English and was definitely written by his daughter's hand.

With a lump lodged at the back of his throat, he read and as he read he began to laugh. Relief, so intense he trembled with it, swept through him.

He'd found Jacq.

* * * * *

The day couldn't have been more perfect for a wedding. What better way to celebrate than with the sun rising in a clear blue sky? Jacq knew she would never take sunshine for granted in merry Old England.

Preparations for the wedding had been underway since well before dawn. Everyone had conspired to let Jacq sleep late. As if she could.

She had woken with the first rays of sunlight spilling through the windows. Dust motes, gilded by the rays, danced in the faint breeze. Jacq had promised herself she wouldn't think about chores. Especially not today.

Jacq hugged herself and spun around in her nightshift as giddy as a schoolgirl attending her first dance. She was about to marry the most gloriously imperfect man. Her protector, the conqueror of her heart. Her one regret was her father wouldn't be there to share her happiness.

But today, she would shed no tears. She hoped he'd received her message and that he understood her choice. Her father had prepared her all her life for this adventure, now was the time for her to make him proud.

She stood before a polished silver mirror Enid had produced. She was still too tall and her features were still too strong to ever be considered beautiful. But now, instead of gawky angularity, she noted the softness to her features. Her love for her husband-to-be, for the child growing in her womb and for the new family of friends surrounding her, gave her a feeling of serenity and acceptance.

She smoothed the skirt of the russet silk dress—another of Enid's miracles—with her hands, and pulled at the cream-colored lace at the points of her sleeves until it fell in graceful folds. The people of Rathburn would find no fault in her appearance today. She was well suited in stature and temperament to be the bride of the Lord of Rathburn.

Jacq left her black hair loose to fall in a cascade of curls down her back. Rufus preferred it that way. Then she lifted a crown of thornless white rosebuds with their shiny green leaves intertwined to place on top of her head.

Annie had delivered the fragrant crown to her room earlier. For once, the child was clean and someone had brushed her long hair, uncovering that surprising hint of gold in her tresses. Her excitement had shone in her eyes as she reverently passed the arrangement to Jacq. The gift was from Rufus, she'd said, and the men had teased him ruthlessly while he'd cursed at every prick of thorns he suffered as he prepared her gift.

Jacq's eyes misted.

Rufus was learning some softness too.

A knock at the door told her it was time to go. Donald's broad shoulders filled the doorway. He gave her a long look, and then grinned. "Rufus is luckier than he deserves, milady. You're bloody beautiful."

Jacq didn't bother to correct him—she felt "bloody" beautiful. She followed Annie and Donald down the long staircase and out the doors of the keep, and was blinded for a moment by the brightness of the sunlight.

A loud cheer rose from around her, startling her. Once her eyes adjusted to the brightness, she saw all the people she had come to love spilling out into the bailey.

From the center of the crowd, Rufus strode forward with a ferocious frown on his face.

Her heart lightened in response.

She understood he was just as impatient for the wedding to be over as she was. The ruddy color in his cheeks told her he liked what he saw every bit as much as she was pleased with his appearance. The plush green surcoat, pulled taut across his massive shoulders, complemented the brown leggings he wore beneath.

Her hands itched to test the strength she knew rippled in the muscles there. She still couldn't believe she would have the right to explore this mountain of a man for the rest of their lives.

As he drew near, he circled an arm around her and pulled her close for a kiss. His lips and tongue danced teasingly over hers to the delight of the boisterous crowd. He drew away, still frowning ferociously. "Damnation, Jacq, did you have to be so beautiful today? We've hours before I can admire you properly."

With a saucy grin, she held out her hand to him. "Then why are you wasting daylight?"

Rufus grasped her fingers and proceeded to drag her to the church to end his misery. But Jacq dug her feet into the earth, bringing them both to a halt.

When he turned back to see what was the matter, his heart skittered to a stop.

Jacq's face was pale and she stared at something over his shoulder. With his hand on his sword, he spun to defend the woman he loved above life itself.

Beyond the gates of the keep, a roiling cloud of mist swept up to the entrance, then halted. Sunlight glinted on the droplets of moisture and splintered into the many colors of a rainbow. From the center of the cloud a figure strode forward.

He heard Jacq's ragged sob a moment before she tore her hand from his and ran for the gate. The man, older than Jacq, but unmistakably related by the looks of him, dropped the many bags he carried and swept Jacq into his arms. They twirled in a circle, both of them laughing giddily.

Rufus allowed Jacq her moment of joy in greeting her father, then walked over to join them.

They had a wedding to finish and the wedding night to begin.

* * * * *

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

Lauren Dane

Rhian Cahill

Eliza Gayle

Selena Blake

Anne Rainey

Jody Wallace

Lissa Matthews

Mari Carr

McKenna Jeffries

Myla Jackson

Taige Crenshaw

Alison Kent

Shelli Stevens

Shiloh Walker

Leah Braemel

HelenKay Dimon

TJ Michaels