Delilah Devlin's Blog, page 504

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

A Question…

I'm asking a question today, not because I'm lazy, but because I love the answers you give me. As for the following question, forget about what it might cost or how impossible it might be. Have fun.

If you were asked to create the ultimate vacation destination,

where would it be located and what would it be like?

Spoonman and Fishwoman

Remember, there are still two contests running…

1) Cynthia D'Alba's free copy of Texas Two Step (ending December 31st)

2) The Fairy Trinket Box Contest (ending January 3rd)

* * * * *

When my sister accused me of being a hoarder, she referred to my ever-growing clutter of dragons, gargoyles, and fairies. She didn't mention anything about what I have hanging on my walls. I hoard paintings, too. I love color all around me, and an empty space invites a special treasure, right?

I love going to museums as much as I love combing through galleries. I'll say right now, I don't "get" a lot of modern art. Cubism, splatters of paint—they just don't appeal. I've been to some of the best art museums in the world, so I know what fine art is, but I have my own peculiar tastes. Sometimes, pieces appeal to my sense of whimsy. A few months ago, I went to an art show in an old bath house in Hot Springs. I found a lot that left me cold, but several that made me smile. Take a look at my faves.

From a distance, you think—nice. When you get closer, you wonder whether he left his mother's flatware alone. And how did he get all that weight balanced on one foot? Now that's something I'd love to have in my front yard.

Here's another:

From a distance, the colors are just right for my office and bedroom. I love warm colors—yellows, reds, along with splashes of green and blue. But get closer, and you see the ship behind her isn't sailing on the sea. It has wheels. And the woman's hat is topped by a fish. I wish you could see all the clever, kookie details of the painting, but this one made me smile.

So, what's the point of today's post? I don't have one. I woke up with my mind a total blank. Maybe you can think of topics you'd rather I talk about tomorrow. In the meantime you can wonder about the things I have hanging on my walls, or better yet, you can tell me what treasures you have hanging on yours!

Guest Blogger: Cynthia D'Alba (Contest)

Hi y'all. I'm Cynthia D'Alba. Delilah has kindly offered up her blog to let me ramble for the next couple of minutes. I want to talk about the future.

It's almost the end of 2011 and beginning of a fresh new year with all its potential and possibilities. 2012 will be an interesting year for me personally.

• I have my first book (Texas Two Step) coming out on February 28, 2012. (YAY!)

• I'm going on my first blog whore tour (which I BEG you to follow and comment. I'll try to be interesting every day! And I'll give away lots of stuff as bribes, er prizes.) Click HERE for dates and locations. A complete list of prizes will be posted in January.

• It's an election year. My hubby and I are political junkies so this year will be like catnip to a kitty!

Notice I'm not asking for New Year resolutions. The ONLY New Year's resolution I ever kept is not to make any.  So I'm not looking for yours. But I'd love to know… What are you looking forward to in 2012?

Mega-thanks to Delilah for having me here today. I know she has a loyal following of fans and to them I say…you have great taste in reading material!

I've included a small except from my upcoming debut from Samhain Publishing, Texas Two Step. I chose it especially for DD's readers.

He wanted her. Even if he hadn't told her, she'd known. Even if he only wanted her for tonight, then tonight it would be. For the first time in years, she was alive and sexy and desirable.

Jerking her mouth from his, she kissed his neck, using her lips, teeth and tongue to caress his salty skin.

"Wrap your legs around me," he said in a strained voice.

She locked her ankles around his waist and thrust her aching center against the bulge behind his zipper. They were as physically close as two clothed people could be. His large hands scorched her bottom as he dug his fingers into her flesh, cupping her through her panties, holding her in place, rocking her against him. She groaned at the torture of being close but not close enough. He was driving her insane with desire.

He locked his mouth to hers, carried her across the room and kicked open a door. The door banged against the wall. He laid her on his turned-down bed, the satiny sheet cool to her heated flesh.

"Don't move," he growled. "I want to enjoy the view."

Instead, she rolled to her side and rested her head in her hand. "I don't think so. I think it's time I had a turn looking."

His lips curved into a slow, sexy smile.

"As you demand." He toed off black cowboy boots and kicked them toward a closet door. He unfastened his slacks and pulled the zipper slowly down.

Interested? Want to read a copy of Texas Two Step? I'm giving away one advance reader copy (digital format only) to one commenter who will read the book and post an online review before February 28, 2012. Here's how to win… (aka Rules and Regs)

• Leave a comment telling me what you're looking forward to in 2012

• Tell me you want to win Texas Two Step

• Tell me WHERE you'll be reviewing Texas Two Step

• You MUST leave an email address so I can contact you if you win.

• Giveaway open to national and international readers provided you have a way to read a digital book AND a place to post online

• Giveaway ends December 31, 2011…a winner will be chosen from comments posted by midnight 12/31/11

Don't forget…

I'll need the company!

To learn more about Cynthia and her books check out the links below:

• Her website

• Friend her on Facebook

• Follow her on Twitter

• Join her and her fans at her group Blog

• Sign up for inside scoops and special contests by receiving the newsletter she shares with her blog buddies.

If you stayed with me this far, THANKS for being with me today.

To preorder Texas Two Step (and have me forever in your debt) follow one

of the direct links below. 

Samhain |Amazon |Borders | Powell's | B & N

Winners, a Contest, and a Question!

Yes, today I'll name two winners, but just not yet. Don't you know patience is a virtue?

I had some very nice news on Christmas day, an extra present I didn't expect. Ravished is nominated for The Romance Studio's CAPA awards for best historical novel… Okay, so any of you who have read that particular book know it's "Vikings in Space", not historical, but I'm okay with that. A nom is a nom! Squee!

* * * * *

Since two contests are winding down, I have to get something else off my hoarding shelf. (See that, sis? Can too bear to part with treasures!)

The Fairy Trinket Box Contest

What do you have to do to win?

Post a comment—here or on my Facebook FAN page. And post every day the contest runs for additional chances to win!

This contest lasts until January 3rd, so there are plenty of chances to enter!

For those of you who will no doubt ask, the box comes from Christi's Gifts & Consignments, 870-230-1877. And yes, she can order more!

How about a question to start you off?

What DON'T women want?

* * * * *

So back to those winners…

Thanks so much to everyone who participated in both contests.

The winner of the Baby Dragon Incense Burner is…Julie Swaney!

The winner of the Promo Ho contest and the $25.00 gift certificate is…Michelle Bauer!

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

to arrange delivery of your prizes.

Guest Blogger: B. J. McCall

Please remember, two contests end tomorrow. Check here for details:

*Win The Baby Dragon Incense Burner Contest (ends Dec 27th)

*Win a $25.00 Amazon.com certificate (ends Dec 27th)

* * * * *
Getting Graded

Having my book reviewed reminds me of my school days and getting graded by my teacher. The educator reads your paper, evaluates it and gives it a mark.

Reviewers do the same for books, but most of the reviewers for romance websites don't get paid. They're book lovers who give their precious time to read my book and write up an opinion.

I love getting reviews of my books. Reviewers tell me what they liked about the characters and plot and sometimes they tell me what they dislike. I see reviews as validation that I wrote a good book and as a critique. If reviewers are willing to give their time to publish their comments, I need to pay attention. I can learn and I can improve.

Electronic publishing has increased the numbers of publishers, writers and books on the market and the choices for readers are ever expanding. Given this explosion of available books, I feel fortunate to receive a review. I have books that never been reviewed and that disappointments me. I really like the feedback.

I'd like to share a couple of comments that a reviewer wrote about one of my werewolf tales, Mark of the Moon.

"Occasionally the sentences were a bit stilted."

"Mark of the Moon is a page turner, gripping the reader from the first page and not letting go."

I love this kind of feedback, and if I could I'd ask that reviewer to point out every sentence she found stilted. That isn't possible, but I've written a few more books since Mark of the Moon and her comment has stayed with me.

This year I was very fortunate. My book, Mirror Mirror: Nightwing was nominated by The Romance Reviews (TRR) for Best Erotic Paranormal Angels and Demons book for 2011. I was stunned. Short books like Nightwing are rarely nominated for awards. The nominees are selected by the TRR reviewers. I didn't win, but I was thrilled that my book was remembered and nominated.

So whether the reviewers grade with stars, tombstones, lips or hearts I'm want to thank these wonderful people for all the reviews I have received over the years and the ones I hope to receive in 2012.

I'm looking forward to a great new year and getting good grades.

Happy Holiday!

Did you find one of these under the Christmas tree? Me neither.

Here's hoping you have a wonderful day, spent with family. The Devlin house opened the adults' gifts last night. This morning, the children come over for theirs. Then there will be Christmas dinner—ham and smoked turkey. All in all, a lovely lazy day.

If you are totally bored during a lull of activities, share your best and worst Christmas presents! Later!

Snippet Saturday: Beginnings

An author strives to foreshadow the tone and theme of a story from the very first words. When it's done well, a reader who sees that opening scene knows exactly the kind of ride she's in for. Enjoy the opening of Four Sworn, the third story in my Lone Star Lovers series. I'm still very, very fond of Bo and Shanna. I think you'll see why.

Happy Holidays to everyone! Enjoy time with friends and family.

I know I will!

"…what you get is explosive, emotional and endearing, something Delilah Devlin does better than anyone…"

4 Cherries, Whipped Cream

There's a wild child trapped inside her, and they're hell-bent on unleashing it…

As the pretty daughter of the town whore, Shanna Davies has always tried hard to toe the line. But she just can't help it. Her boyfriend, Bo Crenshaw, has lured her untamed spirit out to play once too often. It's time to get the hell out of Dodge and make a new start where no one knows her past. After she fulfills one last, wicked fantasy.

Shanna is Bo's first everything. First kiss, first sexual playmate, first love. Yet he's never managed to convince her that he accepts her—good girl and bad—just as she is. So, she wants a memorable send off? No problem. He'll give her one that'll make her think twice about leaving.

On the appointed night, Shanna expects nerves. Yet once she crosses the threshold, the prospect of surrendering to a night of unrestrained passion with Bo and the three Kinzie brothers makes her mouth water—and her courage dry up.

But she asked for it, and now she's not about to blink first in this game of sexual chicken…

Warning: Four lusty cowboys prove a little domination goes a long way in breaking a stubborn woman to saddle. Lots of spanking, binding, flogging, and double-dipping can keep a girl on her toes, her back, her belly, her knees…

"Dance with me, cowboy."

Bo Crenshaw didn't know what surprised him more. Her wanting to dance—or her asking him. She always cringed over her inability to master a simple two-step, and she usually avoided him like the plague in public.

But he wasn't arguing. It was Friday night after a long week of wrangling cattle. He wanted to replace the musky smell in his nostrils with something a whole lot sweeter. Giving his drinking buddy a shrug, he let Shanna Davies tug his hand and lead him onto the dance floor, pretending a reluctance he didn't feel.

Not that dancing with Shanna wasn't pleasurable—if a little painful. She danced the same way she lived—a little too fast and completely out of synch with everyone around her.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, but her head was tilted as she peeked around his shoulder. "Let's go this way." She bumped his knees, and they scooted backward toward her destination.

He pulled in her hips to slide a knee between her lethal knobs and circled so he had a view of what had caught her attention. Eyeing one particular trio of dancers at the far edge of the parquet floor, he thought he knew what had Shanna so intensely curious.

"Get me closer," she hissed.

"What're you doin'?" he asked, his tone dry.

"Tryin' to see."

"See what?"

"Them. Oops." She ducked her head and stared at his chest. "He knows I'm watchin'."

"Who?" he asked, pretending confusion.

"Justin Cruz."

Bo leaned closer to whisper in her ear and bury his nose in her fragrant hair, feeling sure she'd allow it—seeing as how she was trying to pretend she wasn't there to spy. "How do you know he knows?"

"He winked at me." She lifted her head and gave him a glare.

Bo suppressed a grin. "You're really curious about them."

She slid her hand down to twist his nipple through his shirt, and he winced.

"Don't make fun of me." She blew out a deep breath, frustration turning down the corners of her mouth. "Most exciting thing to happen around these parts, a real ménage à trois, and I can't get close enough to see."

"See what?"

She shrugged. "I'd like to see how they all dance together like that. For starters."

Bo chuckled, and then hissed when she twisted his nipple again. He'd be bruised. Worth it, though. He'd missed holding her close.

"Oh hell, they're leaving. You wanna get outta here?" she whispered.

Bo grunted and pulled her tall, slender body closer, rubbing his belly against hers. "You want to see if they do it in the parking lot, or are you horny? Thought you said we weren't gonna do that anymore—use each other." He ground out the last because the way she'd described their last sexual rendezvous still stuck in his craw.

Shanna grimaced in dismay but her brown eyes glittered with humor. "Did I make it sound that way? I'm sorry," she said, her tone anything but apologetic. "It's not that the sex isn't great, but…"

He couldn't help his impatient snort. "I know. You're blowin' this town as soon as you have the cash." Bo turned around on the floor again, fighting her for the lead and winning. He danced them into the darkest corner of the dance floor. "Hell, see what you did now?" he grumbled, pushing her hand down to the front of his blue jeans.

She cupped his erection, running her palm up and down his length, and then tossed back her dark honey-colored curls. Her laughter was low and dirty. "Guess since it's my fault, I should do something about it, shouldn't I?"

"Promises, promises," he muttered, acting like he wasn't so excited his head and heart were pounding faster and heavier than the band. "You bring a purse?"

"Do I ever?"

"Then let's go."

He dropped his arms and resisted the urge to snag her hand inside his. They walked out of the bar and into the gravel parking lot, making a beeline for his truck—but not before she'd darted a glance around the rows for the threesome's vehicle.

When her shoulders sagged, Bo opened the cab door. "Hop up."

As he climbed in behind the steering wheel, she raked a hand through her hair. "We don't have to go far."

"You in a hurry?" He turned the key and the engine rumbled to life, growling like he wanted to. He was pretty sure Shanna was right there with him by the way she clenched together her thighs.

"Don't be a shit," she said, punching his arm.

He let a grin slide across his face. "Sweetheart, I know just the place."

* * * * *

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

A Question…

I am in dire need of a cup of coffee. A soon-to-be three-year-old woke me because her diaper needed changing. Yeah, three-year-old! And she knew where they were, which side faced front, then adjusted hers so it fit the way she liked. Does this girl need to be using the potty, or what? She's been very stubborn.

And why am I the one changing her? Her mommy's sick, so I spent the night. Strange bed + kitties purring and meowing in it = no sleep. Coffee.

I'm not very verbal first thing in the morning. So I will leave you with a question.

Have you left your Christmas/Holiday shopping 'til the last minute?

If so, what do you have left to buy?

Alluring Tales: Wicked Werewolf Night

Please remember, there are three contests ongoing at the moment. Check here for details:

*Win a copy of Best Erotic Romance (ends Dec 23rd)

*Win The Baby Dragon Incense Burner Contest (ends Dec 27th)

*Win a $25.00 Amazon.com certificate (ends Dec 27th)

* * * * *

My friend Lisa Renee Jones has the next Alluring Tales: Night Moves story ready for you to enjoy!

A witch after his secret. A wolf after her pleasure.

Nico Moore is the leader of of The Werewolf Society's elite Royal Guard. Aylia Richardson is the witch who calls to the beast in Nico, but destiny has also made her the keeper of a gift that threatens the very existence of his race. To destroy this gift will destroy this woman…the only one he has ever dared to call 'mate'.

Smashwords * Kindle * All Romance eBooks

Aylia was standing outside Nico's hotel room, willing herself to knock, when Nico opened the door and pulled her inside. Suddenly, she was against the wall, and he was pressed against her, his fingers threading through her hair, dragging her mouth to his.

"Now we talk," he said, his breath warm on her lips.

"This isn't talking," she panted, telling herself to push him away, but melting into him instead.

"Foreplay to conversation," he said, closing his mouth over hers.

Aylia moaned as his tongue stroked hers, as a year of needing him and missing him tore through her. She couldn't fight this, didn't even try. She wrapped her arms around his neck, arching into him, craving the feel of his hard body against hers; the sanctuary he'd always been to her.

He growled low in his throat, deepening the kiss, the taste of him – spicy, male, erotic – driving her wild.

His hands slid down her waist, one shoving her skirt up, caressing her backside and then cupping it, pulling her against the hard ridge of his erection.

She pressed her hands under his shirt, seeking skin, seeking that ultimate connection, the freedom of barriers, the escape from everything that had gone wrong between them, everything that still could. She just needed him.