Delilah Devlin's Blog, page 505

Guest Blogger: Randi Alexander

Thanks so much, Delilah, for letting me take over your blog today. I'm Randi Alexander, I write cowboy erotic romances, and I'm a co-blogger with Delilah at Wild and Wicked Cowboys. We will also be published together in the Cowboy Lust anthology coming from Cleis Press in fall, 2012.

One of my readers sent me this story, and asked me to pass it along. It's about a young man named Matt whose Christmas story gives us a picture of life on a ranch in 1881. I loved the story, and I hope you'll enjoy it, too.

Pa never had much compassion for the lazy or those who squandered their means and then never had enough for the necessities. But for those who were genuinely in need, his heart was as big as all outdoors. It was from him that I learned the greatest joy in life comes from giving, not from receiving.

It was Christmas Eve 1881. I was fifteen years old and feeling like the world had caved in on me because there just hadn't been enough money to buy me the rifle that I'd wanted for Christmas. We did the chores early that night for some reason. I just figured Pa wanted a little extra time so we could read in the Bible.

After supper was over I took my boots off and stretched out in front of the fireplace and waited for Pa to get down the old Bible. I was still feeling sorry for myself and, to be honest, I wasn't in much of a mood to read Scriptures. But Pa didn't get the Bible, instead he bundled up again and went outside. I couldn't figure it out because we had already done all the chores. I didn't worry about it long though, I was too busy wallowing in self-pity.

Soon Pa came back in. It was a cold clear night out and there was ice in his beard. "Come on, Matt," he said. "Bundle up good, it's cold out tonight." I was really upset then. Not only wasn't I getting the rifle for Christmas, now Pa was dragging me out in the cold, and for no earthly reason that I could see. We'd already done all the chores, and I couldn't think of anything else that needed doing, especially not on a night like this. But I knew Pa was not very patient at one dragging one's feet when he'd told them to do something, so I got up and put my boots back on and got my cap, coat, and mittens. Ma gave me a mysterious smile as I opened the door to leave the house. Something was up, but I didn't know what.

Outside, I became even more dismayed. There in front of the house was the work team, already hitched to the big sled. Whatever it was we were going to do wasn't going to be a short, quick, little job. I could tell. We never hitched up this sled unless we were going to haul a big load. Pa was already up on the seat, reins in hand. I reluctantly climbed up beside him.

The cold was already biting at me. I wasn't happy. When I was on, Pa pulled the sled around the house and stopped in front of the woodshed. He got off and I followed. "I think we'll put on the high sideboards," he said. "Here, help me." The high sideboards! It had been a bigger job than I wanted to do with just the low sideboards on, but whatever it was we were going to do would be a lot bigger with the high side boards on.

After we had exchanged the sideboards, Pa went into the woodshed and came out with an armload of wood – the wood I'd spent all summer hauling down from the mountain, and then all Fall sawing into blocks and splitting.

What was he doing? Finally I said something. "Pa," I asked, "what are you doing?"

"You been by the Widow Jensen's lately?" he asked. The Widow Jensen lived about two miles down the road. Her husband had died a year or so before and left her with three children, the oldest being eight. Sure, I'd been by, but so what?

"Yeah," I said, "Why?"

"I rode by just today," Pa said. "Little Jakey was out digging around in the woodpile trying to find a few chips. They're out of wood, Matt." That was all he said and then he turned and went back into the woodshed for another armload of wood. I followed him. We loaded the sled so high that I began to wonder if the horses would be able to pull it. Finally, Pa called a halt to our loading, then we went to the smoke house and Pa took down a big ham and a side of bacon. He handed them to me and told me to put them in the sled and wait. When he returned he was carrying a sack of flour over his right shoulder and a smaller sack of something in his left hand.

"What's in the little sack?" I asked.

"Shoes, they're out of shoes. Little Jakey just had gunny sacks wrapped around his feet when he was out in the woodpile this morning. I got the children a little candy too. It just wouldn't be Christmas without a little candy."

We rode the two miles to Widow Jensen's pretty much in silence. I tried to think through what Pa was doing. We didn't have much by worldly standards.

Of course, we did have a big woodpile, though most of what was left now was still in the form of logs that I would have to saw into blocks and split before we could use it. We also had meat and flour, so we could spare that, but I knew we didn't have any money, so why was Pa buying them shoes and candy? Really, why was he doing any of this? Widow Jensen had closer neighbors than us; it shouldn't have been our concern.

We came in from the blind side of the Jensen house and unloaded the wood as quietly as possible, then we took the meat and flour and shoes to the door. We knocked. The door opened a crack and a timid voice said, "Who is it?"

"Lucas Miles, Ma'am, and my son, Matt, could we come in for a bit?"

Widow Jensen opened the door and let us in. She had a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. The children were wrapped in another and were sitting in front of the fireplace by a very small fire that hardly gave off any heat at all. Widow Jensen fumbled with a match and finally lit the lamp.

"We brought you a few things, Ma'am," Pa said and set down the sack of flour. I put the meat on the table. Then Pa handed her the sack that had the shoes in it. She opened it hesitantly and took the shoes out one pair at a time. There was a pair for her and one for each of the children – sturdy shoes, the best, shoes that would last. I watched her carefully.

She bit her lower lip to keep it from trembling and then tears filled her eyes and started running down her cheeks. She looked up at Pa like she wanted to say something, but it wouldn't come out.

"We brought a load of wood too, Ma'am," Pa said. He turned to me and said, "Matt, go bring in enough to last awhile. Let's get that fire up to size and heat this place up."

I wasn't the same person when I went back out to bring in the wood. I had a big lump in my throat and as much as I hate to admit it, there were tears in my eyes too. In my mind I kept seeing those three kids huddled around the fireplace and their mother standing there with tears running down her cheeks with so much gratitude in her heart that she couldn't speak.

My heart swelled within me and a joy that I'd never known before, filled my soul. I had given at Christmas many times before, but never when it had made so much difference. I could see we were literally saving the lives of these people.

I soon had the fire blazing and everyone's spirits soared. The kids started giggling when Pa handed them each a piece of candy and Widow Jensen looked on with a smile that probably hadn't crossed her face for a long time. She finally turned to us. "God bless you," she said. "I know the Lord has sent you. The children and I have been praying that he would send one of his angels to spare us."

In spite of myself, the lump returned to my throat and the tears welled up in my eyes again. I'd never thought of Pa in those exact terms before, but after Widow Jensen mentioned it I could see that it was probably true. I was sure that a better man than Pa had never walked the earth. I started remembering all the times he had gone out of his way for Ma and me, and many others. The list seemed endless as I thought on it.

Pa insisted that everyone try on the shoes before we left. I was amazed when they all fit and I wondered how he had known what sizes to get. Then I guessed that if he was on an errand for the Lord that the Lord would make sure he got the right sizes.

Tears were running down Widow Jensen's face again when we stood up to leave. Pa took each of the kids in his big arms and gave them a hug. They clung to him and didn't want us to go. I could see that they missed their Pa, and I was glad that I still had mine.

At the door Pa turned to Widow Jensen and said, "The Mrs. wanted me to invite you and the children over for Christmas dinner tomorrow. The turkey will be more than the three of us can eat, and a man can get cantankerous if he has to eat turkey for too many meals. We'll be by to get you about eleven. It'll be nice to have some little ones around again. Matt, here, hasn't been little for quite a spell." I was the youngest. My two brothers and two sisters had all married and had moved away.

Widow Jensen nodded and said, "Thank you, Brother Miles. I don't have to say, May the Lord bless you, I know for certain that He will."

Out on the sled I felt a warmth that came from deep within and I didn't even notice the cold. When we had gone a ways, Pa turned to me and said, "Matt, I want you to know something. Your ma and me have been tucking a little money away here and there all year so we could buy that rifle for you, but we didn't have quite enough. Then yesterday a man who owed me a little money from years back came by to make things square. Your ma and me were real excited, thinking that now we could get you that rifle, and I started into town this morning to do just that, but on the way I saw little Jakey out scratching in the woodpile with his feet wrapped in those gunny sacks and I knew what I had to do. Son, I spent the money for shoes and a little candy for those children. I hope you understand."

I understood, and my eyes became wet with tears again. I understood very well and I was so glad Pa had done it. Now the rifle seemed very low on my list of priorities. Pa had given me a lot more. He had given me the look on Widow Jensen's face and the radiant smiles of her three children.

For the rest of my life, whenever I saw any of the Jensens, or split a block of wood, I remembered, and remembering brought back that same joy I felt riding home beside Pa that night. Pa had given me much more than a rifle that night, he had given me the best Christmas of my life.

Author Unknown

I've got to apologize if your mascara's running like mine is, but that story just has me in the most tender of holiday moods. I'm going to have my littles read the story aloud on Christmas Eve. I think they need to be reminded of how important it is to give instead of receive (which they do in far too much abundance.)

I hope you enjoyed the story, and I wish you a wonderful Christmas, Happy Holidays, and a sparkling-bright New Year!

Randi

RandiAlexander.com

Wild and Wicked Cowboys Blog

Chase and Seduction is available at The Wild Rose Press

A Winner and a New Contest!

While my sister, Myla Jackson, visited me this weekend, she informed me that I'm a hoarder—that my office is cram-jammed packed with too many dragons, faeries and JUNK.

"Too many dragons?" I gasped. "How's that possible?"

She shook her head, gaze sad, and said, "Face it. You have a sickness. How can you work with so much chaos all around you?"

"Chaos? What do you mean?" So what if I have books stacked two rows deep and a lovely collection of dragons and faeries and miscellaneous pretties.

She rolled her eyes, grabbed my wrist to hold up my hand, and said, "Repeat after me: Hi, I'm Delilah Devlin and I'm a hoarder."

Well, sis, I do not have a compulsive disorder. I can too shed myself of some of my treasures without getting breathless with panic. (Besides, I have a green one of these precious little baby dragons!)

The Baby Dragon Incense Burner Contest

What do you have to do to win?

Post a comment—here or on my Facebook FAN page.

This contest lasts until December 27th, so there are plenty of chances to enter!

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

And so you have a reason to comment today, here's a question:

Are you a hoarder, too? If so, of what?

* * * * *

The winner (by random number generator) of the Dragon with a Cup of Joe Contest is…Penny K! Penny, congratulations, and email me with your address!

Help me plot this book…

**Just one day left to enter to win a Dragon and a Cup of Joe**

I have a brand-spanking-new Facebook Fan Page!!!! What's that, you say? I can't explain it, except to say that the fan page will allow me to reach more people than my personal page which is nearing capacity. I am switching to the Fan Page and will slowly wean readers from my personal page by offering bribes to make the change. I'll be running a contest, very shortly, that only the folks who have "Liked" my page are eligible to enter. There will be a Kindle Fire and a slew of smaller prizes up for grabs!

So what do you have to do? 1) Click the Fan Page link. 2) Click the "Like" button. Simple as that.

So what's up today? I have to start a new story today. Have to,  have to! Or rather finish the one I already have started. You've seen the cover:

Help me figure out what the story's about!

Is it contemporary or medieval, or contemporary with a medieval feel? I started it in the present, where there's a mysterious man who has reconstructed his European castle here in American. Does that work for you?

It's a given there will be a ménage, but what flavor of ménage do you want? m/m/f or m/f/m?

My young, aspiring reporter is a virgin. How can that be?

Ready for the challenge?

A Question…

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

*Win a Dragon and a Cup of Joe (ends Dec 20th)

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

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

* * * * *

The garage sale is over! For now. We made a whole whopping $150.00! Guess right before Christmas isn't the best time to do one. We froze our butts off for two days and ransacked the closets of this new old house. Every time I went looking for things to put out, I found something I wanted, so it went into my stack.

My sis, Myla Jackson, kept me and the Red-Headed Hellion company part of the time. And since sis is still here, I better mosey on down to spend some time with her! So while I'm visiting with family, you can answer a question:

What body part are you most attracted to?

Saturday Snippet: Winter

Thought since this week's theme was winter, you might like to see the opening of my best-selling winter story. Enjoy meeting the guys!

"…I couldn't put this story down! It was danger, betrayal, sexy and fun all rolled together into the perfect erotic romance. The plot was brilliant, and the characters unique…The sexual scenes will make you clamp your knees together and dream of a sexy cowboy or two of your own…"

5 Stars, Stefani Clayton, Just Erotic Romance

"…Saddled is heart-stopping and fascinating!!!!!!!…"

5 Stars, Heather, Vixen Reviews

"…Delilah Devlin's storylines never fail to pull readers into the story and SADDLED is no exception…Of course the sex scenes are scorching and adventurous with the perfect blend of emotional turmoil to ensure readers keep Ms. Devlin's name at the top of their 'must read' list."

4.5 Blue Ribbons, Crissy, Romance Junkies

Slippery when naked…

When Bobby Blackhawk and Cale Yancey see a car slide off the highway and into an icy creek, they've got only minutes to get the beautiful driver out alive. And only one way to save her from hypothermia: take her to their isolated cabin, get naked…and hope like hell that when she wakes up, she doesn't scream the place down.

Katherine Duvall opens her eyes in a strange bed, and the tingles flooding her body aren't entirely due to restored circulation. She's snuggled between two handsome men, one a gruff, gentle giant, the other a sexy, playful Native American. Having just left her fiancé romping with another woman, she's not quite as shocked as she might have been.

In fact, these two lonesome cowboys could be the perfect bookends to satisfy her hunger for revenge and bolster her dented self esteem. It's not long before their raging hormones are melting the snow on the cabin roof.

To their surprise, they find something else is melting, too. Their hearts…

Bobby Blackhawk shook his head as the taillights of the little Beemer just ahead flashed red again through the falling snow. Sure enough, as soon as the driver crunched the brakes, the tail end of the car began to slide on the snow-covered ice.

"She's gonna go right into the river if she keeps that up," Cale Yancey muttered beside him.

They'd been following the car for the last ten miles, inching down the lonely highway. They'd already figured out the car wasn't using snow chains, and the driver was too stupid to know she was skirting on the edge of real trouble.

"Why are you so sure it's a woman?" Bobby asked.

"Can't drive worth a damn."

"Love for you to tell Lacey J. that."

"Lacey's not like other women."

Now, that was an understatement that had them both sharing lopsided grins, considering how well Lacey had proven that point the previous weekend.

"Sure could use me a little of her lovin'," Cale said, sounding wistful.

The last trip into Wellesley, Colorado in anticipation of snow blocking the mountain pass had been a wild, lust-packed two days. With a lonely winter facing them, they'd both taken Lacey up on her offer of a threesome that was sure to keep the two men growling like hungry bears for the next two months, impatient for the thaw so they could get back down the mountain.

It was a good thing they'd discovered long ago that they were compatible in ways that would make most men blanch, otherwise the wait to make it back into town would have been unbearable. Neither was squeamish about helping the other out; however, both preferred emptying their passion inside the wet, snug passage of a woman. If the woman happened to be obliging, like Lacey often was, they didn't mind sharing.

Both vehicles climbed the last long hill right before the men's turnoff and another half-mile beyond to the highway, tire treads biting into fresh snow.

"She might make it," Cale said, sounding doubtful.

"Think we better follow to make sure?"

The car ahead made it to the top of the rise, and then the brake lights flashed again.

Cale cursed. "Wish she'd quit doing that."

Rental company plates on the back of the car explained a lot about the aptitude of the driver. "Doesn't know she should just gear down and take it slow."

They reached the top, and Bobby geared down. Sure enough, the driver up ahead hit the brakes again, and the rear of the car slid sideways. As though watching a movie in slow motion, both men held their breaths, hoping the woman would gain traction at the last moment, but one rear tire slid off the edge of the road and then the right front followed. With tires spinning and brake lights flaring bright, the car slipped slowly down the hill and into the creek.

"Not good," Cale said tightly as Bobby pulled into the snow bank at the side of the road and left his emergency lights flashing. Just a precaution since there wasn't much of a chance of anyone coming up on their rear end since the road crew had been taking the barriers off the truck when they'd passed.

Bobby slammed the car into park and climbed out, following Cale as he slid on his ass down the hill. They paused at the water's edge, staring at the vehicle, both knowing one of them was going to have to get wet.

Water was midway up the car door, and the driver had rolled down her window. Blonde hair peeked beneath a black knit hat. Terror-stricken blue eyes peered at them through the falling snow.

"Ma'am, can you get yourself out?" Cale shouted.

"I think so," she said, her voice tight and quavering.

"If you can crawl out your window, we can help you the rest of the way."

"I'm getting wet. It's cold."

"Gotta move now, sweetheart," Cale said, his tone gentling the same way it did when he worked with a fractious horse. "You wait another second, two of us are gonna be in trouble."

"My purse. I can't find it." She turned in her seat, reaching into the back of the car.

The car bobbed on the water, and for a moment, Bobby thought it might break free and start floating. "Lady, leave it," he shouted. "You don't have time to look."

"But my money—"

"Not gonna spend it if you're dead."

She bit her lip, and then her face screwed up as though she was going to start crying.

"Fuck sake," Bobby muttered, stepping past Cale and stripping off his coat. "I'll get her out. It's gonna be up to you to get us both up that goddamn hill."

And then he was plunging into water so cold his legs went instantly numb. He reached her door, stretched an arm inside her window and unbuckled her belt. Her skin was too pale, her body shaking violently. She was entering hypothermia, and he was fast on her heels.

"Sweetheart, you have to help me a little bit. Please." Then he reached inside and pulled her, dragging her out, using brute force and knowing he was banging her around the window frame, but he had to be quick because the cold was sapping his strength.

As soon as her legs cleared the window and fell back into the water, she moaned, but he turned with her, slung an arm around her waist and half-dragged her back to the edge of the bank.

Cale reached for them both, but Bobby shoved her at him. "Get her to the car first. I'll be right behind you."

Cale gave him a sharp glance but didn't argue. There wasn't time. He bent and heaved the woman over his shoulder and then clumsily made his way up the hill and out of sight.

Bobby took only two steps out of the water before his legs gave out, and he fell to the ground on his knees. Shivering with cold, he stuck his hands under his arms and huddled inside the coat he'd left behind, knowing he'd have to be hauled up the hill too.

It seemed only a moment later and Cale was kneeling beside him. "Your turn, buddy."

Bobby tried to give him a smile, but he was just too damn tired and his face felt frozen.

"Can't carry you. Dammit, you have to help."

"Gimme a minute. Too cold," Bobby managed to mumble, but Cale's hands were already under his arms and tugging him hard. "Just a minute. I'll…walk."

"You're in no condition, but this is gonna be slow. I'm not leaving you here."

"Woman…gotta get her warm."

"Just shut up," Cale bit out. "She's in the truck. Got the heat goin' full blast."

"'S good," Bobby said, trying to keep his mind clear, but he was tired. So goddamn tired, and he couldn't feel his arms and legs. One last moment of clarity and it struck him that he might die. "Leave me."

"No fucking way." The tone of his best friend's voice was rough, deeper than usual.

If he could have, Bobby would have smiled. The only time Cale got this shook up was when his cock was deep, his balls tightening and on the verge.

* * * * *

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

HelenKay Dimon

Shelli Stevens

Shiloh Walker

TJ Michaels

Guest Blogger: Kristina Wright (Contest!)

Best Erotic Romance Series Debut!

Have you ever tried to herd cats? It's hard, I tell you.  Getting all those beautiful, headstrong felines to walk in the same direction, to behave and get along…. Whew! Exhausting!

What does herding cats have to do with books?  Well, editing an anthology of erotic romance is a bit like rounding up cats. Finding stories that are beautifully written and complement each other and organizing them in a way that makes the entire book flow naturally is a challenge, to say the least. But it's a challenge I love and as I was editing my fourth anthology for Cleis Press, I found myself with an added challenge—to not only find stories that blended together well, but to find stories that were the very best of erotic romance.

Best Erotic Romance is the inaugural edition of a new series from Cleis Press. I received so many amazing stories that the challenge became narrowing those wonderful submissions to the seventeen stories I ultimately chose.

Here is my introduction to the collection:

Introduction: Simply the Best

What does it take to be the best? That's the question I kept in the forefront of my mind as I edited Best Erotic Romance 2012. And so, when I sat down to sift through the submissions, I found myself reading many of the stories two or three times. It's a complicated process, trying to determine what makes a story the very best of the genre. Obviously, excellent writing and storytelling are key, but I also looked for stories with characters I could believe in and root for. Characters I could fall in love with, just as they were falling in love (or finding ways to stay in love).

I am delighted to present this inaugural collection of Best Erotic Romance, the collection that I hope will set the bar for future editions. These are the stories that touched my heart and ignited my libido, that made me think about the nature of desire and the unpredictability of the human heart. Each of these seventeen stories weaves love and passion so tightly that one cannot be separated from the other. And isn't that what a lasting relationship is all about? The need for connection and commitment, memories and history—and hot, wanton, uninhibited sex with a partner who knows us better than we know ourselves.

From tales of love (and lust) at first sight, such as Delilah Devlin's "Drive Me Crazy" and Nikki Magennis's "Dawn Chorus" to stories of established couples still passionate for each other, such as Andrea Dale's "Memories for Sale" and Kate Pearce's "Cheating Time," the stories in this collection show that true love lasts, real passion never waivers, and lovers who are meant to be will always find their way back to each other. These lovers aren't afraid of going after what they want, whether it's long-lost love in "Blame It on Facebook" by Kate Dominic or a hot threesome among a married couple and a female friend in Erobintica's "Till the Storm Breaks."

The authors in this collection know that opening one's heart comes with great risks and often greater rewards and that open communication and a spirit of adventure can make for a scorching sex life. They have created characters who believe all is fair in love and war and who take no prisoners in their quest for emotional and sexual fulfillment. Here you will find lovers exploring their desires in bedrooms, heating things up in the kitchen, splashing around in the bathtub, playing with sex toys, drinking champagne, getting it on in hotel rooms, staying warm in winter cabins, flirting in trucks and bars, making out in the great outdoors, and making love at dawn and midnight—all in the name of that greatest of all human desires: true love.

So, dear reader, I invite you to explore this delicious collection of erotic romance selected especially for you. I think you will find that what makes a story the best of its kind is based on the same intangibles that make people fall in love. It's magic, I think. And when it comes to love and war, there's only one thing I know for sure: love wins. Love always wins.

Kristina Wright

In love in Chesapeake, Virginia

This is the kind of book that is a delicious treat at the holidays—or a terrific gift for someone who is new to erotic romance and looking for a sampling of stories. And in that spirit, I would love to send one lucky commenter a copy of Best Erotic Romance! Winner will be selected at noon on Friday, December 23.

Happy holidays to all of you and thanks to Delilah for letting me take over her blog today!

 

Hidden Treasures

I swear my life would make the best reality show. A house full of eccentric elderly people. Pets who act like children. A Red-Headed Hellion with children who would frighten The Children of the Corn. I'm the one in the middle of all the chaos.

I've been trying to simplify my life. However, the older of the two little girls has some learning issues. I'm going to be helping with homeschool. I already babysit quite a bit, rush to town to help with emotional bedtimes, etc. For a year, my daughter lived in a trailer she'd bought and put in the pasture beside our house. It was to be a temporary housing solution. We hoped the house across the road would come available and be reasonable priced, but when that didn't happen fast enough, I found a very nice, cute little house that needed a few renovations in town, five minutes away. Problem solved, or so I thought.

A week after her family moved in, the house across the road was offered to us, along with 8 acres of land. No more driving to get where I'm needed. No more worrying about the hellions escaping the front door and running into the street (the two-year old moves step stools to reach the upper latch of the front door). But the house was built in the early 80′s and was occupied by an old lady who lived alone until her family moved her into a nursing home. We pretty much have to plan to gut the bathrooms and redo them, replace the roof, the carpet, the tile…

So, I'm buying that house, along with everything still inside it, selling the other, and this weekend we are holding a massive garage sale to get rid of all the items the woman horded in her house for thirty years.

We have found some treasures. I scarfed up two lovely old blue carnival glass bowls. My daughter found a Beatle record in mint condition. My mother, aunt and grandmother swarmed the crocheted afghans and a multitude of coats and jackets the woman barely wore.

Yesterday, my grinning son-in-law walked in to present me with a Teen Wolf doll whose eyes glow red and growls when you flip the switch.

The sale starts early tomorrow morning, so be thinking about me, setting up tables to pile with clothing, toys, dishes, crocheted toilet tissue covers, a dozen bibles, statues with Jesus standing at the bottom of the sea beside a conch shell, dressers crammed with linens, picture frames with photos of smiling people who are no longer living and whose relatives didn't care enough to save.

My daughter has a box for the photos she's sure some long-lost grandchild might someday return to find. She'll keep it along with the dead husband's Mason uniform and her Mason wife's pin. Maybe when the old woman finally passes, she'll return and be happy about the fact we saved something she treasured. While we renovate, we'll respect.

But she's not getting the Teen Wolf doll back.

Guest Blogger: Lissa Matthews

Psst! Remember, continue to post in order to increase your chances to win

The Dragon with a Cup of Joe Contest!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

'Tis the Season

'Tis the season of giving. And it's still a season of thanksgiving, as well as a season of reflection.

I have done a few things this year outside my comfort zone. I've learned a lot, changed a lot, and I've met some wonderful people this year. One of them being Delilah. She is down to Earth, open, kind, patient.

I'd started reading her cowboy stories before the Lori Foster Readers and Authors get together in June and when I had the chance to meet her, I zoomed across the room and accosted her. I told her I loved her books and that I'd love to pick her brain some time. She was gracious and offered to sit down with me at breakfast the next morning.

That kind of willing and open kindness is something I find missing a lot in this business and in life in general. I don't understand it. Delilah let me ask questions and never made me feel like a lesser author just because I didn't have the right publishing credentials or didn't know the right people. There was nothing I could do for her in return for her sitting and talking with me.

She's professional and she's quick with a smile. Her sister, Myla Jackson, is the same way. Both of these women are incredibly successful yet don't treat others any different for not being quite so… They gave of their time and their lessons learned. They gave of themselves and in the spirit of giving, that's something most reserve for the holidays, but they gave it in the middle of the year. They touched me and I know they touched others. We should all strive to be less full of ourselves and willing to talk with, spend time with, and help each other. We should all strive to talk less about ourselves and our successes, and listen more.

These two authors are not the only ones like this. I've met others this year who are just as quick to take a moment to talk, to offer their time, to do something that may not benefit them in any way at all but to make someone else smile or feel better.

I do a lot of reflective thinking at this time of year. What could I do better, how could I be a better friend, a better author, a better mother, daughter, wife, a better all around person? I think I know and it starts with saying thank you to Delilah and Myla for showing me the kind of author/person I want to be toward others in this business.

Throughout the holiday season this year, I've been emailing people I've met in this business to thank them for their friendship, to thank them for any help they've given me, to tell them I miss them, that I love their books, and in some of my guest posts I am doing it, too. Just like in this one.

What about you? Have you told those that mean something to you or that have come into your life and changed you in some way, thank you?

Of course, now, I get to plug in a bit about my upcoming Samhain Publishing release, Twisted Up. It'll be available on December 20th for purchase, however it is available for pre-order now at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and Samhain Publishing.

One rope. Three days. And two hearts on the line.

Justin has had enough. Ella, the woman who healed his broken heart, has been cancelling on him for two months straight. Sure, she's busy with her job, which has her traveling far and wide. But that never stopped her from sharing nights of trivia, long conversations and blazing hot sex—until now. Truth to tell, he misses their easy friendship, the way her sighs fill his ear as he fills her body.

What he can't figure out is, what's changed?

At work, Ella finds it easy to talk to rooms full of strangers. Once back at her lonely apartment, though, she's back to her painfully shy self—until Justin. Their chance meeting grew over the months into a year-long affair, but she can't shake the feeling that rejection and pain are just around the corner. Best thing to do? End it now, before their intimacy digs too deep.

Suddenly he's at her door with a length of neon-green rope and a naughty proposition, daring her to say no. Just how good could it be? There's only one way to find out.

Product Warnings: The sheets are tangled, the hat is crumpled, and the jeans are worn low on the hips. The cowboy is hot, determined, and helpless in the face of bunny slippers. Readers may need extra batteries to get this one out of their system.

For more information, please visit my website or blog, and sign up for my newsletter. You can also find me on Twitter and Facebook.

I want to thank Delilah for having me! I wish you all a very happy holiday season.

Enjoy the BEST EROTIC ROMANCE!

Best Erotic Romance officially releases today! You can't go wrong—just take a look at the list of wonderful authors who contributed to this anthology: Sylvia Day, Donna George Storey, Heidi Champa, Delilah Devlin, Saskia Walker, Justine Elyot, Angela Caperton, Andrea Dale, Kate Dominic, Craig J. Sorensen, Shanna Germain, Emerald, Kate Pearce, Rachel Kramer Bussel, Erobintica, Kristina Wright, and Nikki Magennis

Buy at Amazon * Buy at Barnes & Noble * Buy at Books-A-Million

This inaugural collection of erotic romance features the very best of the genre. In erotic romance, the sexual component is critical to the development of the romantic relationship. Each of these masterfully written tales contains the essence of true romance: a central love story and an emotionally-satisfying, optimistic ending. What sets Best Erotic Romance apart is the scorching hot sex and the happily-ever-after (or happy-for-now) ending. Award-winning romance writer and editor Kristina Wright and her cast of terrific romance writers have crafted stories that touch the hearts and minds of readers, and linger in the memory for a long, long time.

An excerpt from my story, "Drive Me Crazy":

Just a glimpse of him standing in profile, arms crossed over his well-developed chest and leaning his firm, round butt against the dispatch counter, was enough to shore up my weakening resolve. Dressed in faded blue jeans, a black, chest-hugging t-shirt, and a red Razorback ball cap turned backwards on his dark shaggy hair, he was every woman's blue-collar fantasy. My mouth dried as I glanced down his tall, muscled frame. What woman in her right mind wouldn't want one night with all that ripped hotness?

And that's all it could be—one night. I'd waited until the last possible moment to make my move.

The midnight drive to the dispatch office had given me plenty of time to argue my way out of what had seemed like a good plan earlier when I'd realized that the planets had aligned to give me this one last chance to fulfill my long-standing fantasy.

There'd never been the right time. For the longest time, I was married. When my husband dumped me, Danny had been living with a woman with two kids, and seemed to be heading down a straight road to marriage.

We'd flirted; he'd issued lazy invitations for dates or a quickie at the Motel 6 down the road. But I'd never detected even a hint of serious interest. If something was going to happen, I had to be the one to make a move. Today had been my last day at Henderson Transport. It was now or never.

All the reasons why I was crazy to consider it fell away as I ticked through them in my mind:

He's too young—He'll be happy because I won't have any expectations, I said to myself. Well, none beyond a really good time.

I'm management and he's a driver—Midnight had just ticked past, so not true anymore. We were both free agents. Both consenting adults. All he had to do was say yes.

"You'll never see him again," I muttered under my breath as I rubbed my cold hands together. "If he turns you down, you won't have to live with his smug smile."

I sucked in a deep fortifying breath, adjusted the neckline of the red Lycra top to show my breasts to their best advantage, and pushed through the glass door.

His head turned at the sound, and then he straightened away from the counter and dropped his arms. "You cuttin' my route, Angel?"

I gave him a crooked smile. "Think I'd do that and ask you to wait for me here in the middle of the night?"

His brows drew together, curiosity glinting in his gaze before it dropped to my boobs. I'd worn a bra that pretty much left everything sitting on a shelf. My nipples were outlined against the red, stretchy fabric of my top, the tips spiking because I'd given them a little tweak before I'd exited my car.

His frown deepened. "What's this all about Angela?"

I cleared my throat and tried for a sultry look. "I think you know."

He cocked his head and looked me up and down again. Slowly. "You don't have to hijack a man's keys to get his attention, sweetheart."

I planted my hands on my generous hips. "Apparently, I do, because you sure as shit haven't followed through on any one of your invitations."

His lips twitched. "I thought you flirted like that with all the guys."

"You ever see me do it? Even once?"

His jaw tightened. Fatigue showed in the shadows under his eyes. Stubble clung to his craggy cheeks.

I felt a momentary twinge of guilt over the fact I was keeping him from his bed, but that was all I'd allow. He was young and hot as hell. If he needed sleep that damn bad, he could tell his latest squeeze to come around another time. Tonight, he was mine.

"My keys weren't in the lockbox. I know I left 'em there."

"You did indeed," I said nodding. Then I looked him up and down, making sure he hadn't mistaken my intent. "Fact is, I have an itch that needs scratchin' and I'm hopin' you'll help me out."

I tried to exude more confidence than I felt, but lost my nerve on the return trip up his hard body. I paused and swallowed hard, then gave a little cough to loosen the knot lodging at the back of my throat. When I reached his mouth, he was grinning..

Shit.

"Angela, is there somethin' you want?"

You, preferably naked and tied spread-eagle on a bed so you can't stop me nibbling every edible part of you.

"Angela?"

"Is there something I want? Yeah, there is."

"Then just say it."

But I couldn't. I felt foolish enough. I reached into my purse and drew out his key ring. "Look, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have taken this so far."

"You made me wait half an hour, when I could have been home, showered and in bed. You know how long I've been out this time."

"I know. I arranged the schedule."

Still, he didn't take the keys.

I took a step toward him and had to tilt my head to maintain the lock on his gray gaze.

His hands settled on my waist."You want somethin', sweetheart?" he repeated, his voice lowering to a sexy rumble.

I squeezed my eyes shut, prayed for courage and that the blush staining my cheeks would fade. "I want you," I said, then opened my eyes.

His grin widened. "Now, was that so hard?"

A Question….

I love posting questions because the answers y'all give me are always so much fun! And if you need a bribe, remember that next Tuesday I'll choose the name of the winner of that pretty dragon mug from all commenters!

I was making my Christmas list yesterday. It's Christmas in this house, although some of us are atheists/agnostics, some Christians, some Catholics…some still exploring our options. Off topic, but do you know some Protestants don't recognize that Catholics are Christians? I get, "What church do you belong to?" "Not any at the moment, although I'm baptized in the Catholic church." "Oh, so yer not Christ-y-in?" When I get that from someone that ignorant, I want to say, "To Catholics you're all a bunch of cultists!" But I refrain—especially given my ambiguous relationship with any higher being.

Anyway, I've bought a few gifts, but not in any organized way. In fact, my daughter had to remind me I had some things tucked away I'd bought during the summer. So, now I know what I have and who I still need to buy for. I've made notes for most of the people on my list, except for one.

My father's gift is ALWAYS the hardest one to purchase. He loves tools, but he has every tool known to man. He loves John Wayne, but he owns every John Wayne movie ever made and has a collection of John Wayne clocks, lunch boxes, coffee mugs, toilet paper—yeah, rough and rugged stuff for the rough and rugged man. I'm still stumped about what to get him, but I'll figure it out.

So my question to you is who is that person in your life for whom you can never find the right gift? What have you gotten him/her in the past

that he/she loved or hated?