Delilah Devlin's Blog, page 513

4 Days to get ENSLAVED! (Contest!)

I'm in Akron, sitting in the business office of the hotel because the promised Wi-Fi connection doesn't work. I missed blogging yesterday due to travel. By the time we all (sis and daughter) arrived here, I was too tired to care.

Anyway, I'm here at Romanticon, hangin' with the supermodels, seeing old friends (writers and readers), and enjoying watching my daughter's reactions to everything around us. She's heard me talking about conferences for years, but this is the one she's breaking her cherry on.

To celebrate the release of my latest "Vikings in Space" story, I'm going to give you juicy excerpts for the next few days. Comment and you'll be eligible for a fun grab bag of swag from Romanticon! I've already been gathering trading cards, pens, bookmarks, and assorted "stuff". I hope to get some autographed books along the way too!

His suffering…

Though proud and strong, Eirik, heir to the Ulfhednars kingdom, found himself seduced and taken from his homeworld by a bounty-hunting vixen, who sold him into slavery. Purchased by a wealthy, Consortium-backed brothel, he is kept at a heavily guarded and secure breeding facility, where he is forced to feed the lustful whims of Helios's elite at night. He bides his time, waiting for a chance to escape and get his revenge on the woman who betrayed him…

Her satisfaction…

Once a sex thrall, Fatin earned her freedom through service. Now, as a bounty hunter, she is determined to earn enough to buy her sister's papers from the same brothel she escaped. For this, she abducts a brutishly handsome, breed-worthy specimen from the Viking planet and delivers him to auction. But her desire for justice and his desire for freedom may consume both of them in a passion neither wanted—or can resist.

Eirik tried not to breathe too deeply. The rotten, sour smells of his dark, dank prison already made his skin stink. He didn't want the awful stench inside his lungs or belly.

He hadn't seen the other prisoners, not after they'd been herded like cattle through a chute once the hatch had been opened at the side of the ship and his keepers applied prods to their backsides to move them out in single file.

With only brief impressions of his new home, of searing heat and blinding, harsh sunlight, he'd shielded his arm over his eyes and stumbled down the gangway, through the iron-barred alley that disallowed any thoughts of escape.

He'd been led to this cell, deep inside an enormous stone building. A brief glimpse of an open arena, and then he'd been shoved down two flights of narrow stone steps.

Once they'd slammed the solid door and slid the eye-level window closed, he'd been left alone, no sounds penetrating his prison other than the hum of the light above him, and the sounds his own body made.

His thoughts drowned it all out, screaming inside him. He'd wanted to beat his fists against the door, rail at his captors, but he didn't know if anyone watched him, and wouldn't give them the satisfaction of knowing how close to abject despair he was coming.

Hel, he'd even suffer Fatin's derision, her cold, calculating touch, just to feel or hear another human being.



He didn't know how long he'd been here, there being no window, and no way for him to know how the natural passage of time was counted on this planet, but he knew it was long enough that he'd stopped believing anyone would come to his rescue.

They must think me dead, he thought. Like Father, lost on the ice. One day waving as he skimmed away across the frozen blue water, never to return. Only Eirik wasn't lost. He wasn't dead.

A key grated in the lock at his door, pulling his glance. The heavy door swung open, and two sweet-smelling women strode inside, dressed in short, white skirts. Their breasts were bare. Leather sandals with straps laced up to their ankles. Both were dark-haired and ombré-skinned. Like the witch Fatin. They carried linens and an urn of water.

He pressed a hand against the wall of his cell and pushed up from the floor.

"There's a guard outside the door," the one nearest him said. Her dark, sloe eyes glittered as they raked his body. "We're here to bathe and dress you."

Pushing past them would earn him nothing. He clenched his fists at his sides and held himself still as they brought their clean, sweetly fragrant bodies close enough to strip away his clothing and bathe him like a mother might a child. Only their hands lingered over his sex, and although he might have wished otherwise, his cock unfurled, coaxed by their hands and then their lips to deliver his body's nectar. Or so they called it.

Dressed now, and more relaxed, he allowed another woman just outside his cell to lead him through a winding warren of corridors until they climbed a final set of steps and she pushed open the door, letting sunlight drench them.

Eirik closed his eyes, lifting his face to the light. But he wasn't allowed to savor the sensation. A prod behind him reminded him not to dally. He stepped out onto a platform in the center of the arena. A stage surrounded by thousands of men and women dressed in long robes and jewels.

A blended roar of voices greeted him. Women's excited chatter, men's laughter. He emptied his mind of the indignity, of standing in the center of the stage, hands rising, voices shouting. Then one voice separated from the throng, for it was nearer and familiar. His head swiveled toward the sound, caught the triumph glittering in Fatin's eyes as she met his gaze for a moment, then turned back to the crowd, accepting rapidly escalating bids.

A woman near the front of the stage shouted something that sent the crowd into gales of laughter.

Fatin turned toward him, warning him to behave with her cold, black gaze. When she was within arm's reach, she pulled at the tie on his hip and unlaced it, letting the short, skirtlike garment the women had dressed him in fall away.

He stood nude, his body exposed to the air and the rapacious gazes of the crowd. His head cleared of the numbing despair, all focus homing on Fatin's slender frame. No matter the outcome of today's shameful events, he vowed to have his revenge. One day, Fatin would be the slave; one day she would know the shame he felt.

Something of what he thought must have transmitted. Fatin's look of triumph faded, and her eyes became dark mirrors of doubt.

Slowly, his body warmed; his cock expanded. The things he would do to her, the many ways he would take her, filled his mind. No woman would ever know the depths of depravity he would visit on her body.

Frozen, her gaze locked with his. Eirik let the smile tugging at his mouth expand.

Be frightened, sweet Fatin. Be waiting for me.

5 Days to get ENSLAVED! (Contest!)

I'm in Akron, sitting in the business office of the hotel because the promised Wi-Fi connection doesn't work. I missed blogging yesterday due to travel. By the time we all (sis and daughter) arrived here, I was too tired to care.

Anyway, I'm here at Romanticon, hangin' with the supermodels, seeing old friends (writers and readers), and enjoying watching my daughter's reactions to everything around us. She's heard me talking about conferences for years, but this is the one she's breaking her cherry on.

To celebrate the release of my latest "Vikings in Space" story, I'm going to give you juicy excerpts for the next few days. Comment and you'll be eligible for a fun grab bag of swag from Romanticon! I've already been gathering trading cards, pens, bookmarks, and assorted "stuff". I hope to get some autographed books along the way too!

His suffering…

Though proud and strong, Eirik, heir to the Ulfhednars kingdom, found himself seduced and taken from his homeworld by a bounty-hunting vixen, who sold him into slavery. Purchased by a wealthy, Consortium-backed brothel, he is kept at a heavily guarded and secure breeding facility, where he is forced to feed the lustful whims of Helios's elite at night. He bides his time, waiting for a chance to escape and get his revenge on the woman who betrayed him…

Her satisfaction…

Once a sex thrall, Fatin earned her freedom through service. Now, as a bounty hunter, she is determined to earn enough to buy her sister's papers from the same brothel she escaped. For this, she abducts a brutishly handsome, breed-worthy specimen from the Viking planet and delivers him to auction. But her desire for justice and his desire for freedom may consume both of them in a passion neither wanted—or can resist.

Eirik tried not to breathe too deeply. The rotten, sour smells of his dark, dank prison already made his skin stink. He didn't want the awful stench inside his lungs or belly.

He hadn't seen the other prisoners, not after they'd been herded like cattle through a chute once the hatch had been opened at the side of the ship and his keepers applied prods to their backsides to move them out in single file.

With only brief impressions of his new home, of searing heat and blinding, harsh sunlight, he'd shielded his arm over his eyes and stumbled down the gangway, through the iron-barred alley that disallowed any thoughts of escape.

He'd been led to this cell, deep inside an enormous stone building. A brief glimpse of an open arena, and then he'd been shoved down two flights of narrow stone steps.

Once they'd slammed the solid door and slid the eye-level window closed, he'd been left alone, no sounds penetrating his prison other than the hum of the light above him, and the sounds his own body made.

His thoughts drowned it all out, screaming inside him. He'd wanted to beat his fists against the door, rail at his captors, but he didn't know if anyone watched him, and wouldn't give them the satisfaction of knowing how close to abject despair he was coming.

Hel, he'd even suffer Fatin's derision, her cold, calculating touch, just to feel or hear another human being.



He didn't know how long he'd been here, there being no window, and no way for him to know how the natural passage of time was counted on this planet, but he knew it was long enough that he'd stopped believing anyone would come to his rescue.

They must think me dead, he thought. Like Father, lost on the ice. One day waving as he skimmed away across the frozen blue water, never to return. Only Eirik wasn't lost. He wasn't dead.

A key grated in the lock at his door, pulling his glance. The heavy door swung open, and two sweet-smelling women strode inside, dressed in short, white skirts. Their breasts were bare. Leather sandals with straps laced up to their ankles. Both were dark-haired and ombré-skinned. Like the witch Fatin. They carried linens and an urn of water.

He pressed a hand against the wall of his cell and pushed up from the floor.

"There's a guard outside the door," the one nearest him said. Her dark, sloe eyes glittered as they raked his body. "We're here to bathe and dress you."

Pushing past them would earn him nothing. He clenched his fists at his sides and held himself still as they brought their clean, sweetly fragrant bodies close enough to strip away his clothing and bathe him like a mother might a child. Only their hands lingered over his sex, and although he might have wished otherwise, his cock unfurled, coaxed by their hands and then their lips to deliver his body's nectar. Or so they called it.

Dressed now, and more relaxed, he allowed another woman just outside his cell to lead him through a winding warren of corridors until they climbed a final set of steps and she pushed open the door, letting sunlight drench them.

Eirik closed his eyes, lifting his face to the light. But he wasn't allowed to savor the sensation. A prod behind him reminded him not to dally. He stepped out onto a platform in the center of the arena. A stage surrounded by thousands of men and women dressed in long robes and jewels.

A blended roar of voices greeted him. Women's excited chatter, men's laughter. He emptied his mind of the indignity, of standing in the center of the stage, hands rising, voices shouting. Then one voice separated from the throng, for it was nearer and familiar. His head swiveled toward the sound, caught the triumph glittering in Fatin's eyes as she met his gaze for a moment, then turned back to the crowd, accepting rapidly escalating bids.

A woman near the front of the stage shouted something that sent the crowd into gales of laughter.

Fatin turned toward him, warning him to behave with her cold, black gaze. When she was within arm's reach, she pulled at the tie on his hip and unlaced it, letting the short, skirtlike garment the women had dressed him in fall away.

He stood nude, his body exposed to the air and the rapacious gazes of the crowd. His head cleared of the numbing despair, all focus homing on Fatin's slender frame. No matter the outcome of today's shameful events, he vowed to have his revenge. One day, Fatin would be the slave; one day she would know the shame he felt.

Something of what he thought must have transmitted. Fatin's look of triumph faded, and her eyes became dark mirrors of doubt.

Slowly, his body warmed; his cock expanded. The things he would do to her, the many ways he would take her, filled his mind. No woman would ever know the depths of depravity he would visit on her body.

Frozen, her gaze locked with his. Eirik let the smile tugging at his mouth expand.

Be frightened, sweet Fatin. Be waiting for me.

Guest Blogger: Mari Carr

The winner of this week's contest is named at the bottom of this post!

Hiya! I wanted to start with a quick word of thanks to Delilah for letting me come hang out on her blog today. She is one of my favorite authors, so it's a big treat for me to be here. Damn, that gal can write!

I'm a huge fan of top ten lists, so today I thought it might be fun to share the top ten reasons why ebooks ROCK!

10 – Space in my House. Ebooks don't call for real bookshelves, don't need to be stored or given away once read, and they don't need to be dusted.

9 – Novel vs. Novellas. Ebooks come in many lengths. Sometimes I'm in the mood for a quick fix, a short story to pass a few hours. Other times, I want a full-length novel, one that I can get lost in for an entire weekend. Ebooks offer both options…plus lots of sizes in between.

8 – Instant Gratification. I started reading the Twilight series late in the game. I finished New Moon at midnight one night and was chomping at the bit for Eclipse. Problem was the bookstore was closed. If I'd owned my Kindle back then, Eclipse could have been delivered to me wirelessly in less than thirty seconds and you better believe…I would have been pulling an all-nighter. Team Edward!

7 – Go Green. Ebooks don't require that a rainforest be destroyed to make the paper to print them.

6 – The Ebook Community. Because they are tech savvy, I find ebook readers hang out online quite a bit. I've made some wonderful friends who share my love of erotic romance books through yahoo groups. Social networking through common interests. Love it!

5 – The Fabio Cover Factor. I'll admit it. There were times when I was embarrassed to take a certain book to the checkout counter of the bookstore. I was one of those people would put the book upside down in front of the clerk and then blush when he flipped it over. There were even times when I didn't buy a book I really, really wanted to read, opting to come back later. This usually occurred when the clerk was a student from my school. The beauty of ebooks is no one sees what I'm buying! Not even my husband. Go personal credit card!

4 – Travel Ease. In the past, I had to allow quite a bit of space in my suitcase for books, especially if it was a long trip. Added to that dilemma was the dreaded "You're over the weight limit" line from the airline. With ebooks? I can take literally thousands of books with me on vacation and only add a few ounces to my luggage.

3 – Free Reads. There are lots of free read offers through ebook vendors. I've never seen this same deal with print books. I've discovered several really amazing writers through the free read program at Amazon. Since then, I've added some auto-buy authors, including Dominique Adair, Jess Dee, Anne Stuart, Lila Dubois and Jenna Bailey-Burke, to my reading lists, simply because I picked up one of their books for free. Would I have found them without the free read? Maybe. Maybe not.

2 – Cheaper. Ebooks are cheaper than print. In some cases, they are much cheaper. Because of the varying lengths, I can pick up ebooks anywhere from a couple dollars to around ten bucks. Considering I have shelled out as much as thirteen dollars for trade paperbacks and even more than that for hardback, I enjoy the cheaper cost of ebooks.

1 – Variety. There is a wide-range of ebooks out there. Erotic romance novels aren't that prevalent in print, but in ebook format, the world is my oyster. I can find novels on a variety of the more taboo subjects. Ménages, BDSM, and m/m stories are but a single click away.

And…while we're on the subject of ebooks, I thought I'd take a moment to share a bit of my latest release, Slam Dunk.

Who says you can only score on the court?

A story from the Black & White Collection.

Trey Donovan is mourning the end of summer with fellow teachers when Ellie Hunter walks into Tully's Bar. Better yet, she's now a former rival basketball coach and the newest science teacher at his high school. He can't think of anyone better to fill the vacant assistant coach job. In fact, if he plays his cards right, she might end up his perfect match off the court, too.

If she stops holding him at arm's length long enough to give him a chance.

Coming off a year of bad decisions that not only broke her heart, but cost her a job, Ellie has good reason to swear off workplace romances. Her undeniable—and undeniably mutual—attraction to Trey is a serious threat to her resolve. Especially since Trey's too-easy capitulation to her boundaries stings just a little too much.

Funny thing, though. When she sees Trey dancing with someone else, the edges of her vision turn decidedly green. And when another man tries to kiss Ellie, Trey sees red.

Maybe it wouldn't hurt to fudge the rules. Just a little. After all, casual sex doesn't count. Right?

________________________________________

Product Warnings

Lots of red-hot, half-dressed court presses complete with sex toys, food, bubble baths, strip poker and, oh yeah, balls.

"Hey guys," Cheryl called out as she walked into Tully's. "Look who I found in the parking lot."

Trey glanced up and, for a moment, he felt as if he'd been sucker punched. Ellie Hunter followed Cheryl and Lucas to the table.

Then Trey's grin grew and he stood. "Take a wrong turn, Coach Hunter? Harper's Ridge is on the other side of town."

Ellie smiled, but before she could speak, Grace answered. "I invited her. We ran into each other at school today."

Trey frowned, looking at Ellie. "Why were you at Preston?"

"I had a new teacher meeting to attend. I was checking out my classroom when I ran into Grace."

Jamie looked at Grace. "Why the hell would you go to school on the last day of summer?"

Grace blushed slightly. "I wanted to work on my bulletin board."

Lucas laughed. "Nerd."

Grace threw a pretzel at Lucas's head while the others laughed. Ordinarily Trey would have been amused by their antics, but he was too busy trying to wrap his head around the idea that Ellie "Hottie" Hunter was now his colleague rather than his competition. She looked smokin' hot in short shorts and a T-shirt that showcased her perfect curves. Trey felt his cock stir.

"Here," Trey said, grabbing a chair from an empty table nearby and placing it next to his. He suddenly felt the need to have Ellie in his space, close to him. "Have a seat."



Ellie acknowledged his friendly gesture with a quick nod of thanks and sexy smile as they sat down.

Lucas grabbed an empty glass and filled it, passing it over to Ellie. "So you left Harper's Ridge, huh? Finally decide you wanted to teach at a good school with a winning athletics program?"

Ellie rolled her eyes. "You must be Lucas. Grace warned me about you."

Lucas wiggled his eyebrows. "Oh yeah? You like bad boys?"

Trey narrowed his eyes at his friend, annoyed. While they were both known as being flirts—and players—Trey didn't like the idea of Lucas hitting on Ellie.

"Bad boy?" Trey scoffed. "Jesus, Lucas. You're as much a bad boy as Justin Bieber."

They all laughed as Lucas playfully punched Trey on the arm.

Ellie took a sip of the beer. "I needed a change of scenery," she replied in response to Lucas's earlier question. "Preston had an opening in the science department, so I took it."

"What about coaching?" Trey asked, surprised she would give up something she'd so obviously loved.

She shrugged. "There wasn't an opening to coach basketball at Preston. I mean, that is unless you wanna quit and hand the reins over to someone who actually knows a bit about the sport."

He grinned. Oh yeah, suddenly Trey wasn't dreading the end of summer. This school year was looking to be his best yet. It wouldn't be hard going to work if Ellie was there providing the eye candy. "Not likely. Besides, considering the fact I took my girls' team to the state championship a couple of years ago, I'd say I know plenty about the game."

Ellie wasn't daunted. She leaned closer and Trey caught the light scent of her perfume. Damn, she smelled good. "Word on the street is you're not going to see that much success this year. Four of your starters graduated in June, which leaves you with a young bench. Anybody can coach naturally talented players. You think you're up for teaching a bunch of newbies?"

This was what Trey had missed at the basketball conference. Nobody kept both his feet firmly planted on the ground like Ellie Hunter. "Oh, I'm up for it, sweetheart. You don't have to worry about that."

Actually, at the moment, he was up for quite a bit. He hoped Ellie didn't look down or she'd see exactly how much he enjoyed sparring with her. His cock was rock hard and threatening to bust a few seams in his pants.

"Where the hell did that summer go?" Cheryl said, waving to the waitress to set them up with another pitcher. "I'm warning y'all now. I'm drinking and dancing my ass off tonight. I'm fucking depressed."

Trey topped up Cheryl's glass. "You say the same thing every year at this happy hour."

Cheryl shrugged. "Why do you think I had Lucas pick me up? I came prepared. DD and all."

"Speaking of dancing," Trey said, when the sound of Usher filled the room, "I lined up a few classics in the jukebox for us."

Jamie groaned. "Christ, man. You picked all black music, didn't you? Bet you didn't fire up one single country song."

Trey stood up and gave Jamie a shit-eating grin. They constantly waged this friendly battle over music. "My dollar, my picks."

He was surprised when Ellie rose quickly. "I love this song." She grabbed Trey's hand and led him to the bar's tiny dance floor. Cheryl and Lucas were hot on their heels and Trey noticed Grace leading an only somewhat reluctant Jamie as well.

He started to move to the music, watching as Ellie lost herself to the song. Holy fuck. She could dance.

After years of Grace and Cheryl's hilarious attempts at keeping up with him on the dance floor, he was blown away by Ellie's natural grace and rhythm. She had some sexy-as-hell moves for a white girl. On top of that, she knew all the words to the song. When she mouthed along with Ludacris about wanting "a freak in the bed", he resigned himself to the fact that he wasn't going to make it through this night without jerking off to relieve his hard-on.

Ellie turned around and moved against him. For a second, he tried to hold her away, knowing there was no way she wouldn't be able to feel his erection. Then, he figured what the hell. There was nothing he wanted more than to feel her tight ass rubbing against him. He reached for her waist and pressed her closer. If she was surprised by his actions—as well as his cock rubbing against her lower back—she didn't show it. In fact, she moved slower, more sinuously.

Trey gritted his teeth and tried to ignore how good her body felt against his. Her long brown hair was pulled back in her usual ponytail and he wondered what her hair would look like down, loose around her shoulders. Or better yet, he could wrap that ponytail around his hand and use it to direct her mouth to his cock as she sucked him off. A myriad of red-hot images passed by his eyes as he danced with her. No other woman had ever inspired this much lust in him, but a few minutes with Ellie never failed to drive his thoughts straight to the bedroom.

He moved his hands higher on her waist, his hands slipping beneath her T-shirt as she continued to gyrate in time with the music.

He'd never danced with Ellie, never had more than short conversations with her at conferences and before games, but he'd always watched her. Always been aware that whenever she was around, the rest of his surroundings went a bit blurry, all his focus directed at her.

He was attracted to her. He'd never denied that to himself, though he'd certainly worked hard to hide the fact from his friends. Grace and Cheryl would take a great deal of pleasure knowing he had a crush on Ellie Hunter and knowing them, they'd work overtime to try to hook them up. Grace was always trying to set him up, telling him he needed to settle down.

Ellie turned around to face him, but he didn't release his grip on her waist. Instead he let his fingers slide over the smooth, soft skin of her tiny waist.

Suddenly it dawned on him exactly how small she was. Looking down, he noticed the top of her head only came to his shoulders. Her powerful personality had always made her seem taller to him.

She continued to dance and her new position gave him a bird's eye view of her breasts. She wasn't overly endowed, though she certainly had plenty to fill his palm. She sported an athletic build, trim and firm and fit. He considered all the ways she could use her physical strength in the bedroom and his cock twitched. Jesus. This wasn't good.

The winner of the Coffin Clutch & Third Eye Hair Clip is…Shadow! Shadow, send me an email to coordinate delivery of your prize!

Guest Blogger: Renee Wildes

Conquering Fear

by Renee Wildes

I am a true April Taurus—earthbound, practical, stubborn and temperamental. My life is ruled by fear. In true "bull" fashion, I tend to meet it head-on. It's what drives me, not a weakness but a motivator.

I've always been a tomboy, preferring horses to boys growing up. I belonged to the Wilderness Challenge Club in high school (Wisconsin Academy in Columbus, WI). Whitewater rafting, caving, rappelling, canoeing. If it meant sunburn, mosquitoes and getting dirty—that was where you'd find me. Very glamorous stuff. Now, I've always been afraid of heights. Like—freeze atop a 6-ft ladder scared of heights. We won't even mention airplanes. Sedatives. LOTS of sedatives…

So, the first time I went rappelling was at Devil's Lake, from atop Devil's Rock. Guarded by all manner of…rattlesnakes. Saw two, sunning on the rocks. So there I was on a snake-infested rock atop the world. Beautiful view. Wasted on a sixteen-year-old in a cold sweat. See, the secret to rappelling is to WALK down the rock face. Anyone who's walked across a floor knows the easiest way to do that is to be perpendicular to the floor surface. So if the floor surface is almost entirely vertical, that means the walker gets to be the one who's…horizontal. And that translates into standing backwards at the edge of a cliff, the true ground several hundred feet below, and LEANING back against a rope-and-nylon-harness-affair into thin air until you're lying down on NOTHING—and then walk down the wall.

Sure. Uh huh. (Never said I was a BRIGHT kid. Well, okay, I was. Straight A nerd.) And Mr. Snyder was right there like some hairy bearded cheerleader from Buffy saying stupid things like, "It's easy. You can do this. Nothing stops you. Just leeeeeean back and walk down."

But it was my best friend stating "Don't be such a chicken shit" that got me going. Okay, it took me 20 minutes of whimpering like a toy poodle in a thunderstorm before I leaned back enough to start walking. Reaching the bottom to more Buffy reject cheering felt like conquering Mount Everest.

That's how I tackle life. I let fear motivate me into moving, defeating, conquering. It can either stop you or get you going. Being a Taurus, stubbornness gets me a long way through life. As a writer I try to let the quality bleed off into my characters. Set them up against a bad situation some would consider impossible, but the character just takes a deep breath, says "Who if not me?" and forges on to start, to try. And so the stories go.

In RIEVER'S HEART, the heroine Verdeen goes to the Icelandic-esque kingdom of Isadorykja with the hero, Daq Aryk. They have to climb a mountain and cross a glacier, and when a crevasse breaks open and an avalanche starts, she has to face her own fears:

They continued on. Rounding a clump of boulders like scattered marbles, Aryk paused and frowned as he eyed the path ahead. A fine latticework of ice crystals covered the surface, as if it had melted and refrozen. He crouched down, pointed to a jagged line transecting the snow. Valkyn studied it as well and nodded.

"What?" Verdeen whispered.

"Partial thaw," Aryk replied. "Might've weakened this area. We cross above that line."

"Spread out," Valkyn advised.

They proceeded with caution. Verdeen watched Fiske. The dog's fur stood on end as he sniffed the air and paced back and forth, stayed close to Aryk. Snow creaked and crunched underfoot, as if the Horn groaned at their intrusion. Verdeen shuddered. Ominous clouds crept across the sky. The dim light pressed like a physical weight against her. She tried to convince herself 'twas just her imagination, but the Horn no longer felt benign. It felt like 'twas waiting…

A sharp crack and Fiske's startled yelp were the sole warnings as the snow collapsed beneath the dog's paws, and he dropped. Verdeen choked down a scream as he disappeared into the ground. Aryk hurled himself to the snow, clutching the line. Slowly, he wound the line around his hands, drawing the dog back up with every coil. Verdeen didn't dare move, scarce dared breathe, as Valkyn crept forward on his belly to the edge of the newly opened crevasse and grabbed Fiske's harness when the dog came within range, hauling him back onto solid ground. The shaking, whimpering dog tottered over to Aryk, who wasted no time in yanking off his gloves and pulling the dog close enough to bury his face in Fiske's red fur.

Verdeen's heart thundered as Valkyn eased away from the treacherous opening. They'd almost lost Fiske. She'd gotten attached in just a few days. How much worse for Aryk, who'd raised him from a pup?

The sharp cracking continued. With a monstrous roar, everything on the lower side of the opening fell away, thundering down the slope in a wall of frozen white. They flung themselves to the ground as the slide fell away, shaking the Horn.

Aryk and Valkyn crawled over to her as the shaking stopped. Aryk reached across the snow to lay a reassuring hand over hers. She was grateful for the comfort as she clambered to her feet and looked down in dismay. Their way was blocked; too unstable to risk it.

BIO:

Fantasy Romance Author Renee Wildes writes the "Guardians of Light" series for Samhain Publishing. She lives in central WI with hubby, 2 kids, a calico cat, a black Chow, and 2 gray half-Arab mares. She still considers herself a tomboy, although she hasn't hoofed it down Devil's Rock in years. Nowadays, writing, reading and scrapbooking occupy her time—when she's not prying her kids out of a tree or off the roof…

Riever's Heart is out in ebook TODAY Sept. 27, 2011, from Samhain Publishing. Click on the cover to purchase.

Guest Blogger: Myla Jackson

Riverboats & Gamblers

by Myla Jackson

I admit to a fascination with riverboats and riverboat gamblers of the past. Taking a riverboat cruise on the mighty Mississippi is on my bucket list of things to do before I die.

There's something romantic about riverboats, lazily steaming up and down the rivers of our country. Tales by Mark Twain and movies like Show Boat helped nurture my attraction. When I needed a setting for my third book in the Bound and Tied series of 1860 Historical Erotic novellas, I couldn't think of anything more exciting and romantic than the riverboats along the Mississippi. I can still hear the echoes of Ol' Man River in a deep baritone and Lovin' Dat Man O' Mine.

Like the song, Rosalyn can't help lovin' that man and has returned to the Mississippi looking for him in RIVER BOUND.

RIVER BOUND

What do a madame and a bounty hunter have in common? They want the same man.

Bound and Tied, Book 3

When Rosalyn Smythe, aka Madame Rosie, steps aboard the Marie-Dearie, she hopes it's the end of a year-long search for her runaway fiancé, Dalton Black. Her cabin holds a surprise: James McKendrick. Notorious bounty hunter, old lover…a man only too happy to help her clear the air—and her heart—of her murdering, thieving bastard fiancé once and for all.

In disguise as a riverboat gambler, Dalton is determined to find who framed him for killing two U.S. Army soldiers and who stole the gold they were carrying. He wants his life back—and his woman, who just happens to be on board and on the arm of his former best friend.

Convincing James he's innocent is easier than winning back Rosalyn's heart. Especially since Rosalyn seems to be enjoying their competition for her affections a little too much. There's only one place to work out his dilemma. In bed.

As the sheets become unbearably hot, threads of evidence leading to the real killer are unraveling, leading toward one fateful card game—and one man who's hell-bent on making sure Dalton has nothing left to lose.

Warning: This title contains hot ménage a trois scenes, bondage, and two men loving, sharing and fighting for the love of one woman with very specific bedroom desires and a a bordello full of experience to tempt any man beyond redemption.

Samhain Publishing

Amazon

Barnes and Nobles Nook

About the Author

Twenty years of livin' and lovin' on a South Texas ranch raising horses, cattle, goats, ostriches and emus left an indelible impression on Myla Jackson, one she likes to instill in her red-hot stories. Myla pens wildly sexy, fun adventures of all genres including historical westerns, medieval tales, romantic suspense, contemporary romance and paranormal beasties of all shapes and sexy sizes. She lives in the tree-covered hills of Northwest Arkansas with her husband of 20+ years and her muses—the human-wanna-be canines—Chewy and Sweetpea.

To learn more about Myla Jackson visit her website at http://www.mylajackson.com

Sunday Report Card

Pssst! Don't forget the Coffin Clutch & Seeing Eye Hair Clip contest ends tomorrow night! Be sure to comment for a chance to win!

Well, I'm back in business! My Internet provider still hasn't figured out what's up, but they did give me a work-around. I'm using Vtunnel.com to access this website, and although all the promo surrounding the page is annoying and I can't post pictures, I'm not complainin'!

Needless to say, I didn't get a whole lot of writing done this week. I felt like I was cut adrift without being able to bounce here at will to see what was happening. I did manage to wrap up the introduction and the last edits on stories I submitted for Beastly Babes, which is being renamed to She-Shifters—yeah, I liked the orginal title so much better. Still, the stories are awesome. And no, I'm not making any announcements just yet about who made it into the anthology because nothing's set in stone until Cleis blesses the choices. So, don't ask!

I began work on a new sexy Western. I have just a few pages written. I really wanted to be farther along, but ah well. I've begun culling The Cowboy anthology entries. I have a ton of very strong stories, so it's going to be rough choosing.

And that's where I am with work. This week a lot of my time will be spent packing for Romanticon in Akron. If you live in the area, be sure to check it out. It's an Ellora's Cave event and the booksigning will be open to the public. I'd love to meet some of you face-to-face.

Oh! And thanks so much for keeping A Four-Gone Conclusion #1 at Samhain for the second week in a row!

It's alive…or maybe not

Yes, I did that in my Dr. Frankenstein voice. My website has been giving me fits. No one else seems to have problems opening it, but most of the day, I can't. Just my site. Nothing else. I swear there's a ghost in my computer playing tricks on me.

Anyway, I'm hitting this fast and getting the hell out before it crashes again. Thanks, everyone for buying Four-Gone. It's still #1 at Samhain's store and rising up the Amazon chart. Yay! As for Bitten in the Big Easy, I know it's a more difficult sale, but I'm telling you, the f/f aspect won't hang you up. The two stories are hot and the storyline intriguing. Swear!

I wrapped up Beastly Babes this week. No, don't ask me yet who made it into the volume. I want to wait to hear from Cleis that everyone's a go first. I'd hate to raise hopes then dash them. I'm working now on re-reading the "yes" stack for The Cowboy. And if I can get to the comments long enough today, I'll start making a list of titles I like to poll you with.

Sorry this is a little lackluster, but I'm crossing my fingers this darn post saves. Can't even risk a spell check first. Later!

So that didn't work. I rushed to my dd's house to finish this post. Why can't anyone figure out what the hell's wrong with my site?

A Question and a New Contest

I'm clearing off my promo shelf! Next week, I head to Romanticon, and I know I'll be back with more wonderful prizes to give away. In the meantime, I have two items I've had sitting there for a while because I didn't want to give them away. Sniff

Both of these prizes would make wonderful Halloween accessories. Who wouldn't look stylish carrying this coffin-shaped clutch with a beaded "third eye" hairclip nestled in their tresses? Both prizes are from Mistress Rae's Decadent Designs.

What do you have to do to win?

Post a comment—here or on Facebook. Simple as that.

This prize package will be awarded next Tuesday, September 27th!

And because it's only fair that I give you something to comment on, here's a question…

What is something you really enjoy doing that is a chore or a bore to many people?

In 12 Days…

His suffering…

Though proud and strong, Eirik, heir to the Ulfhednars kingdom, found himself seduced and taken from his homeworld by a bounty-hunting vixen, who sold him into slavery. Purchased by a wealthy, Consortium-backed brothel, he is kept at a heavily guarded and secure breeding facility, where he is forced to feed the lustful whims of Helios's elite at night. He bides his time, waiting for a chance to escape and get his revenge on the woman who betrayed him…

Her satisfaction…

Once a sex thrall, Fatin earned her freedom through service. Now, as a bounty hunter, she is determined to earn enough to buy her sister's papers from the same brothel she escaped. For this, she abducts a brutishly handsome, breed-worthy specimen from the Viking planet and delivers him to auction. But her desire for justice and his desire for freedom may consume both of them in a passion neither wanted—or can resist.

Buy it now and save $4.80—at Amazon!

Read an excerpt…

Eirik tried not to breathe too deeply. The rotten, sour smells of his dark, dank prison already made his skin stink. He didn't want the awful stench inside his lungs or belly.

He hadn't seen the other prisoners, not after they'd been herded like cattle through a chute once the hatch had been opened at the side of the ship and his keepers applied their prods to their backsides to move them out in single file.

With only brief impressions of his new home, of searing heat and blinding, harsh sunlight, he'd shielded his arm over his eyes and stumbled down the gangway, through the iron-barred alley that disallowed any thoughts of escape.

He'd been led to this cell, deep inside an enormous stone building. A brief glimpse of an open arena, and then he'd been shoved down two flights of narrow stone steps.

Once they'd slammed the solid door and slid the eye-level window closed, he'd been left alone, no sounds penetrating his prison other than the hum of the light above him, and the sounds his own body made.

His thoughts drowned it all out, screaming inside him. He'd wanted to beat his fists against the door, rail at his captors, but he didn't know if anyone watched him, and wouldn't give them the satisfaction of knowing how close to abject despair he was coming.

Hel, he'd even suffer Fatin's derision, her cold, calculating touch, just to feel or hear another human being.

He didn't know how long he'd been here, there being no window, and no way for him to know how the natural passage of time was counted on this planet, but he knew it was long enough that he'd stopped believing that anyone would come to his rescue.

They must think me dead, he thought. Like Father, lost on the ice. One day waving as he skimmed away across the frozen blue water, never to return. Only Eirik wasn't lost. He wasn't dead.

A key grated in the lock at his door, pulling his glance. The heavy door swung open, and two sweet-smelling women strode inside, dressed in short, white skirts. Their breasts were bare. Leather sandals with straps that laced up to their ankles. Both were dark-haired and ombré-skinned. Like the witch, Fatin. They carried linens and an urn of water and linens.

He pressed a hand against the wall of his cell and pushed up from the floor.

"There's a guard outside the door," the one nearest him said. Her dark, sloe eyes glittered as they raked his body. "We're here to bathe and dress you."

Pushing past them would earn him nothing. He clenched his fists at his sides and held himself still as they brought their clean, sweetly fragrant bodies close enough to strip away his clothing and bathe him like a mother might a child. Only their hands lingered over his sex, and although he might have wished otherwise, his cock unfurled, coaxed by their hands and then their lips to deliver his body's nectar. Or so they called it.

Dressed now, and more relaxed, he allowed another woman just outside his cell to lead him through a winding warren of corridors until they climbed a final set of steps and she pushed open the door, letting sunlight drench them.

Eirik closed his eyes, lifting his face to the light. But he wasn't allowed to savor the sensation. A prod behind him reminded him not to dally. He stepped out onto a platform in the center of the arena. A stage surrounded by thousands of men and women dressed in long robes and jewels.

A blended roar of voices greeted him. Women's excited chatter, men's laughter. He emptied his mind of the indignity, of standing in the center of the stage, hands rising, voices shouting. Then one voice separated from the throng, for it was nearer and familiar. His head swiveled toward the sound, caught the triumph glittering in Fatin's eyes as she met his gaze for a moment, then turned back to the crowd, accepting rapidly escalating bids.

A woman near the front of the stage shouted something that sent the crowd into gales of laughter.

Fatin turned toward him, warning him to behave with her cold, black gaze. When she was within arm's reach, she pulled at the tie on his hip and unlaced it, letting the short, skirtlike garment the women had dressed him in fall away.

He stood nude, his body exposed to the air and the rapacious gazes of the crowd. His head cleared of the numbing despair, all focus homing on Fatin's slender frame. No matter the outcome of today's shameful events, he vowed to have his revenge. One day, Fatin would be the slave; one day she would know the shame he felt.

Something of what he thought must have transmitted. Fatin's look of triumph faded, and her eyes became dark mirrors of doubt.

Slowly, his body warmed; his cock expanded. The things he would do to her, the many ways he would take her, filled his mind. No woman would ever know the depths of depravity he would visit on her body.

Frozen, her gaze locked with his. Eirik let the smile tugging at his mouth expand.

Be frightened, sweet Fatin. Be waiting for me.

Get BITTEN IN THE BIG EASY!

One quick note! Tonight at 8 PM CST,

I'll be chatting live at Righteous Perverts!

Yes, another new release! I've barely had room to breathe this month so much is happening. Bitten in the Big Easy is a two-book anthology, with stories from Paisley Smith and myself. Yes, they're lesbian romances, but even if that's not your usual kind of read, you'll be caught up in the drama. The sex is hot, but the stories are every bit as thrilling. The world our sisters Cissy and Elena live in is dark and filled with enemies. You won't want to miss the first installment in the Femme Noir series!

Here's an excerpt…but don't read any further if you're not 18 or older!

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

Elena could only watch, shivering in terror. Those words reverberated in her mind.

First, I wish to play…

How many times had that phrase played inside her dreams as she'd relived the horror of her incarceration in Erzsébet's palace? Most days she slept nude, atop the covers, because even a hint of restraint sent her deep into her nightmare. How did this woman, this human, know her weakness?

Think, think. You aren't an animal. You are only at her mercy if you allow it.

How many times had she reassured herself with the same lie? And yet, she forced her breathing to slow, her heart to still. Whatever potion Cassia had used to paralyze her had worn off. Only a haze at the periphery of her vision remained, causing her sight to narrow to a tunnel. Would Cassia drug her again if she knew she'd recovered? If she banged against her cage, could she free herself in time?

Best to wait. What had she meant, there will only be one night? Did Cassia intend to kill her?

Not that Elena was afraid to die. She'd considered committing another terrible sin a few times during her long life. But the thought of dying now, not by her choice or hand, enraged her.

Some of her thoughts must have shown in her eyes.

Cassia stepped closer, slipping her hands between the flat iron slats to bracket Elena's cheeks with her palms. She pressed so close her warm breaths gusted softly against Elena's skin. As Elena drew in the hot, humid scent, her pussy grew engorged and her teeth sank into the hard rubber ball.

"Surrender to me, my beauty. There's no need to fight. You want this. You want me." Cassia came closer still, her lush mouth parting. The kisses she pressed on Elena's face between the bars were soft and wet. Her tongue darted out to lick the sweat beading on her brow.

Anger and desire mixed with regret that the other woman's tenderness was only a ploy. Tears pricked the backs of Elena's eyes, but she refused to let them well. She blinked furiously, glaring all the while even though her body was beginning to melt.

How truly twisted am I? Sure, she feared the confinement but she was aware of the structure of the cage, of the opening behind her bottom. Memories of the horrific pleasures she'd enjoyed so long ago swam inside her mind while Cassia cupped her face like a child's to reassure her.



Does she even know how to play this game? She growled, deep in her throat.

Cassia pulled away, amusement glittering in her golden eyes. "Is that fury or frustration? Shall I walk around to check for myself?"

This time, Elena didn't care about the consequences; she rattled the cage, bouncing on her shins, bruising her back against the top of the cage while trying to unbend her legs to break the leashes binding her, but to no avail. Sweating and shivering, she at last calmed, only to discover a hand had slipped between the flat metal bars to cup her knee. Elena's teeth bared, and the considered tearing into the hand so near her face, but Cassia slid her hand inside a little deeper and turned it to palm a breast.

Elena's breath caught at the unexpected caress, then pain caused her breath to catch as a clamp pinched one distended nipple, delivering a delicious sting.

She was ready when the second one was applied. She stirred, bunching the muscles of her thighs, pushing up her ass in supplication because she knew the woman wasn't done and Elena's aroused body was ready for so much more.

Laughter tumbled around her. Low and sultry. Drawing more moisture from her channel until she felt the trickle drip across her clit and soak into her pubic hair.

Movement sounded beneath her—padding footsteps. She wished now she'd paid better attention to Cassia's nude body to hold a crisper vision in her mind. Instead, she waited with fascinated dread for what would happen next.

She hadn't been this vulnerable in ages. Although she'd sometimes played in dungeons, allowing human mates, men and women, to subdue her, she'd always known she still maintained control and how easily she could break free of her restraints. This cage was the one confinement she'd never mastered, and she'd both loved and hated her original captor for the lesson.

This time, with all her senses heightened, whether through the powder or the oils she smelled on Cassia's hot skin, she was intensely, painfully aware of her peril. Which perversely excited her all the more.

Fleetingly, she wondered why she'd been taken. However, she wasn't allowed time for more than a stray thought because already palms pressed against her buttocks, spreading her sex and her cheeks. A tongue entered her furrow, lapping between her engorged lips from her clit to her anus, pausing to circle the tiny entrance and prod it.

Her pussy clenched and liquid heat gushed from inside her.

A moan seeped around the ball gag, her tongue pushed against the nippled rubber, but her teeth and the strap kept it firmly in place. She wanted to rant, to chant a litany of curses—to beg for release because her body was shuddering.

When two fingers sank into her channel, she tightened around the digits, squeezing hard. The point of Cassia's tongue poked into her tiny hole again and again, keeping time with the thrusts that swirled as they sank.

Too quickly, an orgasm built, causing her to jerk her buttocks as excitement flooded her body and sent a wave of icy-hot pleasure through her core. The tension wound tighter and tighter then snapped, sending her tumbling over the edge.

Fingers withdrew. The tongue lapped lazily between her cheeks and traveled lower to capture the fluids spilling from inside her.

When the warmth of hands and mouth departed, Elena slumped, tears filling her eyes.

The haze dissipated. Her vision was crystal clear. Her senses tuned again to the scents, smells and sounds surrounding her.

The woman wasn't quite human. Or if she was, she was a witch and wrapped in protective magicks. It was the only way she could have gotten that close to trick her. Elena's mind had been clouded with desire. A desire so strong it couldn't have been natural.

She'd been lured from the start. And Cassia was going to kill her. That much she knew. Ironic, given that she'd planned the same fate for the bitch.