Delilah Devlin's Blog, page 507

Call for Submissions: Wild at Heart

For all you writers out there who are also animal lovers, here's a challenge. The proceeds of this book will go to the Turpentine Creek Wildlife Refuge. I wrote about the facility back in October. Check out Sweet Refuge! for more details about the good work they do.

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Wild at Heart

Editor: Delilah Devlin

Publisher: Diamond State Romance Authors

Deadline: April 1, 2012

Wild at Heart is open to all authors.

Editor Delilah Devlin is looking for stories for a special project to benefit the Turpentine Creek Wildlife Refuge.

Recently, six Diamond State Romance Author chapter members spent a weekend falling in love with the Turpentine Creek Wildlife Refuge and its exotic inhabitants. The refuge is home to large cats and a variety of exotic animals that would otherwise have to be put down because they aren't suitable for placement in zoos or to be returned to the wild. The need for financial support was apparent. Our chapter decided to pool its resources and find a way to help.

What we propose is to produce a volume of short stories, all centred around animals in need of refuge. All proceeds from the sales of the book will go directly to the Turpentine Creek Refuge. We will edit the submissions, seek professional cover art and formatting, and assist the refuge by uploading the anthology to online bookstores like Amazon's Kindle store and Barnes & Noble's Nook store.  Additionally, we will help upload the book to CreateSpace so that printed volumes can be available for sale in brick-and-mortar bookstores throughout Arkansas and inside the refuge's shop.

This is a national call for submissions of short stories to be donated for the cause. Only the best stories will be accepted. All genres of fiction (contemporary and paranormal, sweet adult romance and Young Adult) will be considered. Please keep in mind that stories must be PG-rated as the book will be two-sided—one side geared toward adult readers and the other toward teenaged readers.

Examples of the kinds of stories we seek:

A maimed Iraqi war veteran learns to accept his disability by working with equally damaged animals
A teenaged girl helps a were-cougar hide his true nature while both hunt for an escaped cat
A teenaged couple encounters a tiger escaped from its private owner's cage and work together to find help to capture and care for it
A pushy animal psychic must gain the trust of the refuge's veterinarian to help a depressed bear
A troubled teenager discovers a tiger living in a national forest, then seeks a way to prevent locals staging a hunt from killing it

How to submit: Prepare your 1,500 to 4,000 words story in a double-spaced, Arial, 12 point, black font Word document with pages numbered (.doc, NOT.docx) OR rich text format. Indent the first line of each paragraph half an inch and double space (regular double spacing, do not add extra lines between paragraphs or do any other irregular spacing). US grammar (double quotation marks around dialogue, etc.) is required.

In your document at the top left of the page, include your legal name (and pseudonym if applicable), mailing address, and 50 word or less bio in the third person to dsrawildatheart@gmail.com. If you are using a pseudonym, please provide your real name and pseudonym and make it clear which one you'd like to be credited as. Authors may submit up to 2 stories.

About the editor: Ms. Devlin has published over one hundred stories in multiple genres and lengths. Her published print titles include Into the Darkness, Seduced by Darkness, Darkness Captured, Down in Texas, Texas Men and Ravished by a Viking. Her short stories are featured in Zane's Purple Panties, and Cleis Press's Lesbian Cowboys, Girl Crush, Fairy Tale Lust, Lesbian Lust, Passion, Carnal Machines, and Dream Lovers. She is published by Avon, Kensington, Harlequin, Atria/Strebor, Ellora's Cave, Samhain Publishing, and Berkley. In Fall 2011, she debuted her first anthology with Cleis Press, Girls Who Bite.

Direct any questions you have regarding your story or the submission process to Delilah at dsrawildatheart@gmail.com.

I'm baaaack!

First, thanks to the authors who kept you entertained while I was gone! I appreciated the fun commentaries and the fact I didn't have to worry about posting while I was away.

My trip was a fun one! My daughter, the 7-year-old hellion, and I flew to DC last Saturday. We visited with my ex and my son and his family. I think it's funny how we all ended up divvied up so neatly between Arkansas and Virginia. It certainly makes it convenient. The visit was lovely. We ate too much, shopped like fiends, and took tons of pictures of kids doing cute things. Then the three of us drove back in my "new" used Honda Pilot, which hubby passed along to me. For folks who like to drive to "get 'er done" it should have taken us 17 hours, but the Red-Headed Hellion and I believe in enjoying the journey, so we took two and a half days to get back to Arkansas. If we saw a sign from the interstate that intrigued us, we followed it. More about our stops later.

While I was gone, I got exciting news from Maxim Jakubowski, the editor of The Mammoth Book of Best New Erotica, volume 11, which is due out next year. "Dr. Mullaley's Cure," which appeared in Cleis's Carnal Machines, was selected for the anthology! Yay!

I also learned that I've lost my editor at Ellora's Cave. I'll miss her, but hope she's going on to bigger and better things. Love you, Mary!

I'm settling back in, looking over the schedule for work I have to complete by month's end, and making tweaks. I ALWAYS put too much on my plate, so I've been skinnying down my goals. Today, I'm working on the final revisions of Strokes, which I plan to format and upload this weekend, and hope will be available for purchase by next Tuesday. Be looking for it!

I think that's it for now. I missed my daily chat. Now, I have to go unpack and start some laundry. Then I'll unbury my desktop and get to work!

 

 

Guest Blogger: Ann Jacobs

Building a Series

There are two ways to do it, and I've done both. First, there's the series that just grows from a single book: a new story about a secondary character readers liked a lot. The other type of series is planned from the beginning and generally begins with a group of potential main characters or a special concept.

Siblings—a family connection in which all the main characters are members of one dysfunctional family.

They don't have to be actual siblings, These characters could easily be best friends from childhood, back together after they've grown apart, or coworkers thrown together for a project that causes conflict among them/their significant others. The only limitation as to creating characters for a series is the author's own imagination.

One series I've sold to Ellora's Cave for release in 2012 is based on a family connection. I developed aTexasranching dynasty led by a patriarch with secrets and feuds with neighbors that has spanned a generation. Tired of cowboys and oil wells and little else, I gave the heir apparent, a bad boy with a history of failure and a passion for the wind farms he's developing on his mother's land—a source of conflict between him and his father. Scandal is always good for spicing up erotic romance, so I created Daddy's secret love child, a  high-achieving guy who tries to show the heir up at every turn. Finally, to round out the series, I chose the only daughter, known as "Wild One", for the final book. CADEN KINK seems to be shaping up pretty well. Look for the first of the three books in the second quarter of the year.

A special concept—A series with continuing secondary characters and a common but mostly independent theme throughout.

Think connections: a common setting, a thread of similar but independent situations, a cast of secondary characters who pull the series together. The series might spin off a previous series, bringing continuity and providing secondary characters who were fully developed when they were main characters in the previous series books.

COURTHOUSE CONNECTIONS, also coming this year from Ellora's Cave, will consist of four books in which the main characters of each book have reason to engage the lawyers whose stories were told in the LAWYERS IN LOVE series. All the main characters are 1) in some kind of trouble that places their freedom in jeopardy, 2) in a legal situation that could ruin them financially and emotionally or 3) in an employee situation with the members of the firm.

I've never done a series like this before. So far, it's been a lot of fun. I hope the results will go over with readers!

Check out my website: http://annjacobs.net.

Guest Blogger: Rachel Firasek

Happy Birthday, Rachel! ~DD

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Voyuerism. Is it always a bad thing? Do you see the pretty girl pumping gas? No, that's not me. Do you see the creeper gazing with saliva gathering in the corners of his mouth? No, that's not me either. I'm the gal behind the camera. (I didn't take this picture. But, this is how I see the world.)

I've learned that if I want to be a better writer, I have to be able to describe what I see. So, I watch. In the picture above, I see a woman who is trying her hardest to not look at the creepy man gazing at her. I see a man who's gazing at a woman he thinks is out of his league, but he doesn't have the good manners needed to keep from ogling her.

I also see what could be—as any good voyeur does. I see the small child that might run away from his mother's hand and dart in front of the creepy guy's truck. I see a man who would be torn in two if he'd injured a child while daydreaming about a woman who couldn't give a damn about him. I see a woman pumping gas that has lived through a life of being "the hot chick" and now she can't even pump gas without somebody scoping her out. Her shoulders are back, so she probably has some kind of confidence, but her stomach is tucked in too, so that could mean that she might be holding her breath until he passes—nervous, fearful even.

Are you getting the picture yet? If you want to write believable stories, you have to look at the big picture. The whole picture. When I'm playing with my characters, I have to think about what they are thinking, how they'd react, what could happen, what will happen…the list is endless. But, I take all of this from things and situations I know. If you want to write really great characters, study people. I wouldn't suggest being like the guy in the picture and completely creeping on people, but pay attention. Take notes. I always carry a small notebook with me and when I see something interesting I'll jot it down.

I'll give you the perfect example. Today, we were walking at the mall on lunch—part of my thin in 2012 plan—and I noticed this woman snatch her child by the arm, literally drag him three feet back to her baby's stroller and give him a verbal lashing. The kid's response was one of pure shock and dismay. "You grabbed me!" His voice rose, but he didn't shout, didn't really react in any other way except for a small "O" forming on his mouth and his eyes becoming saucers. This tells me that Mom must have been at her limit. He wasn't accustomed to her dragging on him or he would have had a different reaction—maybe anger or screaming or fear. But, this kid was pretty calm. The woman leaned over and explained why she yanked him across the hall and then they strolled on down the mall. She had patience, even when I knew she had to be angry to have snatched him up like this. Controlled. What was her breaking point? Was it the kid wondering off or the fact that he was touching things?

Oh, the fun of people watching. I can do it for hours and it makes for totally good study for this craft I love so much! Do you people watch? Can you take something you see in everyday life and making a story from it? Do you give them a story like I do? Please share! Oh, and I want to thank Delilah for letting me come play on her blog today. It's my B-Day, btw!

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Rachel Firasek grew up in the south and despite the gentle pace, she harassed life at full steam. Her curiosity about mythology, human nature, and the chemical imbalance we call love led her to writing. Her stories began with macabre war poems and shifted to enchanted fairytales, before she settled on a blending of the two.

Today you'll find her tucked on a small parcel of land, surrounded by bleating sheep and barking dogs, with her husband and children. She entertains them all with her wacky sense of humor or animated reenactments of bad 80's dance moves.

She's intrigued by anything unexplained and seeks the answers to this crazy thing we call life. You can find her where the heart twists the soul and lights the shadows… or at www.rachefirasek.com.

Guest Blogger: Taige Crenshaw

When a single becomes a series

People who know me know that I enjoy writing series. Now stop laughing at me. My reasons for loving series are many but the main one is my nosiness. When I meet a character that captures my attention I immediately want to know what their story is. It bugs me so much that I need to know their story. This even happens in other people's books I read. Some of my fellow writing friends will attest to that although they might have planned a book as a stand-alone when I tell them I want a certain character's story they sometimes rethink the stand-alone and it becomes a series. (Proud grin) I enjoy spreading the series writing love around. LOL.

After laying out my background on series love, I'll fill you in on my attempt of writing a single book. Now stop laughing. I did try to write a stand-alone book.  Wilde Seduction was my attempt at a single book. When I decided to write the book I even told my friends that it would be a stand-alone book. They laughed at me. Each and everyone laughed at me. I was really indignant about it and determined to prove them wrong that this would be a single.  The book was my take on gargoyles. I had such fun writing it and by the end I had resisted my nosy tendencies of wanting to write abut the other characters in the story. I was so proud. But…when Wilde Seduction was released my readers loved it and knowing me they immediately asked for when the next in the series would be out. I told them it was not a series. And yep they were disbelieving that it wasn't a series. Then they started asking me for the characters they enjoyed in the book. I got so many emails about it that they wanted more. My decision wavered then shattered and I gave in. My single title book became a series. LOL.

Today, Wilde Rapture book 2 in my Wilde series was released by Total-E-Bound. When I announced the book was coming, I got a flood of emails so excited that the Wilde's would be getting more stories. The readers were happy and I was able to engage in my nosiness. There are a few more Wilde's stories I will still be telling. After trying to write a single, I realized that I am not the only one who loves series. Because of readers love of series my single became a series.

So to all you readers who love series this series is all because of you.  Thank you for letting me indulge in my nosiness and your enjoying it.

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Taige Crenshaw is a multi-published author with books available at Ellora's Cave Publishing, Liquid Silver Books, Loose Id, and Total-E-Bound. Taige has been enthralled with the written word from time she picked up her first book. It wasn't long before she started to make up her own tales of romance. With novels set in today, in alternate dimensions, or in the future she writes with adventure, fun sassy heroines, and sexy heroes. Always hard at work creating new and exciting places, Taige can be found curled up with a hot novel with exciting characters when she is not creating her own. Join her in the fun, frolic, interesting people and far reaches of the world in her novels.

You can find out more about Taige at her website: http://www.taigecrenshaw.com or blog: http://www.taigecrenshaw.com/blog.

Wilde Rapture - When a woman ducks into an alcove at a wedding she meets the man who is intriguing and will tempt her.



Buy here at Total eBound

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.

 

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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.

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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?