Delilah Devlin's Blog, page 519

Guest Blogger: Myla Jackson

Myla Jackson's Cookin' up Some Summer Fun!

I'm getting tired of the same-ol'-same-ol' when it comes to recipes and cooking. And as hot as it's been I'm looking for something that will give me fresh interest in eating meals. So I went online and found these two recipes and I'm going to try them today.

The first is a recipe for Bruschetta, a light appetizer I learned to pronounce while in Italy last March (hint: the 'ch' is pronounces with a hard 'c'). I had some amazing Bruschetta in Venezia (for those who haven't had the fortune to go to Italy, that's what they call Venice). Okay, so here's the recipe. Let me know what you think.

Roma Tomato Bruschetta

• 6 roma tomatoes, chopped

• 3 cloves minced garlic

• 1/4 cup olive oil

• 2 tablespoons balsamic vinegar

• 1/4 cup fresh basil (no stems)

• 1/4 teaspoon salt

• 1/4 teaspoon ground black pepper

• 1 French baguette

• 2 cups shredded mozzarella cheese

Directions

1. Preheat the oven on broiler setting.

2. In a large bowl, combine the roma tomatoes, garlic, olive oil, vinegar, basil, salt, and pepper. Allow it to sit for 10 minutes.

3. Cut the baguette into 3/4-inch slices. On a baking sheet, arrange the baguette slices in a single layer. Broil for 1 to 2 minutes, until slightly brown.

4. Divide the tomato mixture evenly over the baguette slices. Top the slices with mozzarella cheese.

5. Broil for 5 minutes, or until the cheese is melted.

Now, since I'm a meat and potatoes kinda gal, I was looking for something I could grill and keep the heat outside. I'm not a stickler segregating my food by country of origin, so I found this great kabob recipe online as well.

Teriyaki Kabobs

• 1/3 cup soy sauce

• 2 tablespoons vegetable oil

• 1 tablespoon brown sugar

• 1 garlic clove, minced

• 1 teaspoon ground ginger

• 1 teaspoon seasoned salt

• 1 1/2 pounds boneless beef sirloin steak, cut 1 1/4 inch cubes

• 1 large green bell pepper, cut into 1 1/2-inch pieces

• 1 large onion, cut into wedges

• 12 cherry tomatoes

Directions

1. In a bowl, combine soy sauce, oil, brown sugar, garlic, ginger and salt; mix well. Pour half of the marinade into a large sealable plastic bag or shallow glass container; coat beef in marinade. Seal or cover; refrigerate for 4-8 hours, turning occasionally. Cover and refrigerate remaining marinade.

2. Drain the meat, discarding the marinade. On metal or soaked bamboo skewers, alternate meat, green pepper, onion and tomatoes. Grill, uncovered, over medium heat for 3 minutes on each side.

3. Baste with reserved marinade. Continue turning and basting for 8-10 minutes or until meat reaches desired doneness (for rare, a meat thermometer should read 140 degrees F; medium, 160 degrees F; well done, 170 degrees F). Serve meat and vegetables over cooked rice.

Let me know what you think and Happy Eating! While you're waiting for the food to cook, try one of these short reads….

Myla's Most Recent Releases

She's ready to leave Temptation behind…

Welcome back to the Ugly Stick Saloon with this short story about Charli's first erotic adventure.

Charli Sutton is tired of the same-ol-same-ol in Temptation, Texas and her job at the Ugly Stick Saloon. Her itchy feet tell her that if it ain't happenin' here, it's time to go back to Austin and raise a little hell.

GIRLS WHO BITE countdown begins!

I'm going to use this space to send you somewhere else today! GWB will hit the stores in just six weeks! I have an alternate website, GirlsWhoBite.net, strictly to encourage all the wonderful authors who contributed to my first Cleis anthology to talk about their work, their story and maybe generate some buzz. Yeah, that's the crass part. But hey, if we authors don't push a book, how are you gonna know about it?

The Fugly Ring Contest continues! You're welcome to post a comment here to enter, but any comment on GirlsWhoBite.net counts too! Today, Paisley Smith is sharing the very cool book trailer she put together, plus news about a project she and I are co-authoring. If you wanna know more, you gotta go there!

Also, if any of you have ideas for guests to invite to blog on the GWB site or groups we should visit as part of a blog/chat loop tour, let me know! ~DD

A winner & a brand new contest!

Today's winner is named at the bottom of this post, but first, you have to see what I'm offering this week. You know I look far and wide to bring you fun things to compete for. Well, this time I've outdone myself!

Yeah, I'm hyping this up because what I found is the ugliest ring I've ever seen. This is one you'll save for special occasions. Like Halloween. Or to give away to your least favorite relative. So, maybe I'm exaggerating just a little bit. The pictures don't do it justice. I couldn't get my little Canon to focus, so I'll have to describe it to you.

The ring is a size 8, sterling silver, with a 21+-carat fire garnet, and several smaller garnets in the horns of the caribou/raindeer decorating the sides. I'm almost glad the pictures are too blurry for you to see. Imagine the winner's suprise when she receives this gem!

What do you have to do to win the ring?

Post comments on my blog or my Facebook page. Every comment you make over the next two weeks will count as one entry.

The contest ends August 15th!

* * * * *

The winner of the Skull-Stealing Fairy is…SK Whiteside! SK—send me an email with your snail mail address!

If you're bummed you didn't win, you can contact Christi at Christi's Gifts & Consignment (870-230-1877) to order your own.

Road Trip – Wrap-up

I know Iowa was in June, but I wanted to wrap up the trip highlights. I have three more trips planned for August. THREE! What was I thinking?

Anyway, one of the highlights of my trip to Iowa was a chance to get some new ink with my daughter. We made appointments months ago. The artist at the Iron Heart cleared his schedule for us. My brother entertained the 6-year-old while we spent the afternoon getting stuck with needles. Fun, fun! Here's the tattoo parlor in Des Moines that we went to.

My daughter has a thing for garden gnomes and decided to have both of her daughters made into gnomes. The lighting is bad, so is the swelling. The colors today are beautiful. I'll have to have new pics done so you can see them better.

Here's mine. I wanted something simple and "Story" was the word that meant the most to me. Josh made it beautiful. And since I have a thing for fairy art, this turned out perfectly. The colors don't really show up well here either. It's gorgeous. The fairy looks like a Dominatrix. Perfect!

Brother and SIL took us to a township called Amana. The shops are very retro. Tons of artisans—glassware, fudge, etc. Needless to say, I spent a lot!

On the way back from Iowa, we passed acres and acres of vineyards, and a sign—Wiederkehr Wine Cellars. Of course, we had to stop. While we strolled through their shop selecting t-shirts and bottles of wine, a funny thing happened that reminded me we were back in Arkansas. A woman came through the doors. She was dressed in shorts, big hair, and a t-shirt that rode up her round belly. In a very loud voice she yelled to one of the employees, "Y'all got any strawberry wiiiine?"

The clerk pasted on a bright smile. "Ma'am, we have our own grape vineyards."

Maybe that was too ambiguous.

"Y'all got any other flavors? Got any peach wiiiine?

The clerk's smile tightened. "Sorry, ma'am. We sell only grape wine."

My daughter and I snickered. Yup. We were back home all right. Here's a picture of the vineyards the woman couldn't have missed seeing on the drive.

We stayed for a very nice German-style meal in the vineyard's restaurant.

Then back on the road. By this time, our luggage and everything we'd bought took up all of the tiny trunk area and most of the back seat. Little one didn't complain a bit about being squished.

Saturday Snippet: Travel

**Remember! The Skull Stealing Fairy contest continues! Click on the contest name for details! ~DD

* * * * *

If I could make a living writing short stories, I would. I love getting quickly into a story, finding the surprise (Yes, I know that makes me sound a little nuts. I'm the one writing the story, how can I be surprised? But so often, I am!), then zooming to the close. Writing short helps me polish my prose, helps me focus on word choice. Have Sex Will Travel was especially fun to write since I placed the story in Europe aboard the Orient Express—a train I enjoyed several times while I lived there. I hope you enjoy the little snippet!

"Sexy Little Numbers" is a choice cut of all new and original erotic stories and the latest addition to Black Lace's immensely popular series of erotica collections. This longer collection will contain even more variety and a greater range of female sexual desire than ever before. It will be the first of an annual collection of the best general erotica stories written by women. Fun, irreverent and deliciously decadent, "Sexy Little Numbers" will combine humour and attitude with wildly imaginative writing from all over the world. This will be the most entertaining erotic fiction for women to be found anywhere in the world.

From Have Sex Will Travel…

The Russian's fingers did it for her.

As annoyed as she'd been with his arrogant set down on the train platform before they'd boarded, one look at his hands as he clutched his newspaper in front of his face and she was mesmerized, unable to drag away her gaze.

He had large hands, shaped like shovels, dark, sparse hairs sprouting below the second set of knuckles. His fingers were long—the tips blunt and thick. His nails were clean, trimmed, but not filed or buffed. He had a man's large and capable, but unfussy hands.

Evie surreptitiously clenched her thighs. Two of those thick, blunt fingers would equal the girth of the last cock she'd had thrusting up inside her. Three would stretch her to the point of delicious pain. His palms would be slightly calloused, but she could already imagine the feel of them rasping over her breasts. Her boyfriend's hands had been as soft as hers.

The newspaper snapped, and her gaze shot up to meet his over the top of the pages. The same narrowed glance he'd given her on the platform now seemed to hold a hint of challenge.

Evie's cheeks grew warm. He'd caught her staring. At his hands. At the long fingers curling tighter around the paper he held in front of him. He probably knew exactly what she'd been thinking.

She glanced away, reaching for the backpack at her feet and pulled out her itinerary to review it for the hundredth time, staring at the pages, but not really reading.

Something deliciously unexpected arced in the air between them. An electric charge of sensual curiosity that didn't dissipate the longer they sat, side-by-side, on their red-upholstered bench, pretending not to notice their deepening breaths or the number of times they restlessly shifted in their seat. It wasn't the vibrations beneath them from the train ripping down the track, even though the steady even hum added a subtext to their restless movements.

Evie crossed her legs, wishing she'd worn something less comfortable than her favorite pair of faded blue jeans and a Three Doors Down concert T-shirt. She dressed like a grad school student in a state of arrested development, which she was. Or a teacher who'd saved her meager salary to splurge on museum tickets rather than a holiday wardrobe. Also true.

The Russian wore a dark brown business suit. A summer wool that fit him well without an overly tailored cut that would hug his frame. He'd left off the tie. His dress shirt was opened at the neck to reveal the base of his throat and give a hint of the dusting of dark hair that clothed his broad chest. Comfort seemed to be his priority over style.

The paper lowered to his lap, and Evie suppressed a groan, caught again. His gaze rested on her—telling her silently he knew she'd been watching him.

She lifted her chin. 'It's not as if I have anything else to do,' she muttered, knowing he didn't understand a word she said.

A soft snort was his response. Then he folded the paper and stuffed it into the handle of his brief bag. He crossed his arms over his chest, then began a slow perusal of her body that left her slightly outraged—and incredibly aroused—beginning with her breasts and sliding slowly down her body.

Was he truly attracted? Or did he think he could intimidate her into giving up her berth? That he hadn't wanted to share the small compartment with her had been apparent in the low, heated argument he'd had with the attendant who checked their tickets and collected their passports.

Having been shocked that she'd been given such a nice accommodation in the first place, no doubt a mistake but one she wasn't going to admit, they'd have to pry her cold dead fingers from the sides of the cabin door to remove her now.

She'd withstood her cabin-mate's irritation, ignoring both men as they spoke and gestured toward her until The Russian had uttered a low curse, unmistakable by his tone, raked a hand through his straight brown hair before finally, grudgingly, taking his seat. He'd made a great deal of noise opening and slamming his case, drawing out his newspaper and raising it so high she knew he wanted to tell her she didn't matter. He would simply ignore her.

Only it seemed he found it impossible to dismiss her. Was his predatory stare simply his new tactic to drive her out?

Oddly, Evie found herself growing amused. Let him stew. Let the tension grow so thick that neither of them could pretend something wasn't happening here. 'I'll be out of your hair by morning, anyway,' she drawled.

While his dark gaze lingered on her breasts, she eased back in the seat, straightening her shoulders so that her breasts lifted subtly. If he kept looking, he wouldn't miss the sight of her nipples beading beneath the thin material of her bra and tee. She unfolded her legs and crossed them again, drawing his gaze down to her long legs. She might not have fully fleshed-out curves, but her slim body did manage to pull male glances everywhere she'd traveled so far.

One asset in particular seemed to hold their attention longest.

Knowing she was being a little devious, Evie bent over to rifle through her pack, pretending to reach deep for something while her cropped tee slid up her back to reveal the upper edge of her turquoise thong.

When she straightened, she caught his glance sliding away from her bottom. Feeling smug, she couldn't help the slight smile that tugged at the edges of her lips and turned her head to lock her gaze with his, returning his challenge without blinking.

Only maintaining that stare proved hard. The longer she looked into his face the more she took note of his strong, square jaw, the dark, slashing eyebrows that overhung deep-set brown eyes, the thin sensual lips that firmed while she continued to look.

Suddenly, he stood, his height towering over her. He shrugged out of his jacket and folded it, laying it atop his brief bag. When he sat and pulled off his shoes and socks, Evie's triumph wilted, wondering what he was up to now. Without glancing her way, he stood and opened the cabinet above her head to fold down the upper bunk.

Evie quickly ducked to keep from getting bumped. 'You could have given me a warning,' she said grumpily.

Another soft snort had her tilting up her face to meet his steady stare. His hands pulled open his belt, unbuttoned the top of his pants, and he efficiently pulled his shirttails free.

Now, the air inside the compartment grew stifling. Her heart thudded dully in her chest as he stripped away his shirt and folded it neatly over his discarded jacket.

His naked chest drew her gaze. Helpless to resist, she conceded his body was attractive even if his behavior made him seem a total jerk. Broad, rather than lean, thickly muscled, his waist narrowing proportionate to his size—she knew he'd blanket her completely, press her deep into thin travel mattress if he lowered his body over hers.

Unwilling to let him mock her a single moment longer and needing to move now that excitement hummed through her body, Evie gave him a disgruntled frown and slid her bag along the floor with her foot. She stood in the small space between him and the bed, and then sidled toward the sink near the entrance of the cabin.

She watched him in the mirror, saw his gaze rake her back, lingering on her buttocks and thighs, and reached a decision she was sure she'd regret later.

Right now, however, her body was beginning a slow burn that quickened her breaths, tightened her nipples, and softened her sex. She'd started this journey needing to fill her life with experiences she'd never have back in her own prosaic little world.

Experiences. New challenges. Obstacles for her to overcome on her journey to discover herself as a single woman in charge of her own destiny.

Her boyfriend's defection, which had forced her to make this trip on her own, had stung. Her self-esteem had dents large enough to park a Hummer inside—but The Russian had been checking her out. She thought, that just maybe, she was ready to put to rest any doubts she had about her ability to attract and seduce another man.

She quietly twisted the lock on the door to ensure their privacy. Then without looking back, she slowly drew her shirt over her head and dropped it beside her feet. Unfastening her bra, she let it slide off her arms, not caring where it landed either. She slipped out of her leather slides and unbuttoned her jeans, pushing them down to her thighs. When she bent to push them the rest of the way down, she heard a throaty murmur behind her, and her body reacted immediately, urgently, dampening the crotch of the panties that were the only item of clothing she still wore.

She straightened and tucked her fingers beneath the bands at her hips, and drew a deep breath for courage, then started to push them slowly down.

Hands closed over hers, halting her. Had she misread his interest? Evie's breath rasped as her courage fled. Heat filled her cheeks, and she closed her eyes.

His large hands squeezed hers, pressing them to her sides, telling her to keep them there. Then he slowly glided up her ribs. When his long fingers nudged beneath her breasts, she couldn't help the shallow, breathless moan that escaped her lips.

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

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

Jody Wallace

Mari Carr

McKenna Jeffries

Taige Crenshaw

Delilah Devlin

Lacey Savage

Sasha White

Shelli Stevens

T.J. Michaels

TGIF!

I'm late getting this up, but I've been busy rearranging my bedroom. I did some shopping the past few days with the Red-Headed Hellion. Her new hubby is busy in the next room putting together my new TV cupboard. She'll be consolidating all my jewelry (did I mention I love sparklies?!) into a new standing jewelry hutch. I also have a new TV he has to install and a bookcase/curio cabinet that's arriving this afternoon.

Whew! That's enough, right? When it's all done, I'll have to have her over with a drill to rehang all my painting and prints. My bedroom is a cross between a harem, a Morrocan tea room and an art gallery. Yeah, extremely crowded, tons of collectibles, but I need all my stuff! I love colors—reds, organges, yellows, deep blues, greens and browns. I promise it works better than it sounds.

So, no writing today. RHH is also working on my stack of mailings. I'll get to the Post Office on Monday. If you've been waiting on something from me—it's on the way. Next week. Promise!

While your week is winding down, spare a thought for the chaos that is my life.

Take a look at my new cover!

Isn't it beautimous?! I don't have a blurb written yet, but if you like my Lone Star Lovers stories, you're gonna love this one! Forgive any typos, this snippet is unedited.

"It's time you boys found yerselves a wife." Sam Logan made his pronouncement then waited, watching the four younger men seated at the table from the corners of his eyes. He didn't have to wait long for his words to sink in. They exploded in the room with the force of a silent grenade.

Johnny's jaw closed with a snap, and he laid his spoon down on the scarred, oak table. His black, winged brows drew together, nearly meeting over his dark eyes as he raised his head.

Sam suppressed a smile. That look could make the toughest hombre gulp, but Sam wasn't the least bit concerned. Johnny tended to look mean when things changed. His oldest boy hated any kind of change.

If any other man had said what he had, Johnny would have cussed under his breath and aimed a piercing, silencing glare. However, he respected Sam, trusted him as much as he could anyone. That trust and respect were the only things that kept his butt on the bench beside his brother Killian.

For his part, Killian's eyes narrowed. The corners of his lips twitched. Likely, he was amused by Johnny's reaction and didn't want to let him off the hook too quickly, but was already lining up all the reasons why Sam's idea was ludicrous. He was quick that way.

Sam calmly ladled the hearty stew he'd made into his mouth and let his gaze roam to the twins. Jason was coughing into his napkin while Mace gave him "helpful" taps between his shoulder blades.

Mace caught his stare and grinned. "A wife, did you say?"

Sam grunted, ignoring the one word that had caught his son's attention. "This is the third time this week we've had stew," he murmured. Not to change the subject, but to point a out a glaring fact.

"I like stew just fine," Johnny muttered.

"This house misses a woman's touch." There, he'd said it. Sat the big gorilla in the room right at the dinner table. Impossible to ignore.

"Gracie can't be replaced," Killian said softly.

The permanent ache next to his heart echoed that truth. Sam nodded. "She's gone. Three years. I miss her every day. Know you do too. But life goes on. You're men now. You have an obligation. Ranchin's a family business. Y'all need families."

Johnny cleared his throat. "No disrespect intended, Sam, but you didn't get sons the old-fashioned way."

"Not because Gracie and I didn't try. And in the end, we had no regrets. We both loved you all like you was our own."

"So, you'd rather saddle us with—"

Sam aimed a quelling stare. "Think I felt like Gracie was a noose around my neck?"

"No sir, but…" Johnny's hands fisted on the tabletop. "Hell, how're we to find someone like her?"

Sam understood what he meant. Gracie's passing had left a hole in all their hearts. The boys had loved her. Took to her the very first day he'd brought each of them home. Gracie had been born to be a mother, and she'd showered them all with the things they needed most—acceptance and unconditional love.

"Boys, Gracie wasn't born a rancher's wife. Truth is, she didn't know a bull from a cow and damn near poisoned me with the first meals she cooked. But she learned. Find a woman willin' to learn, one you kin love and who'll love you back."

"You said, 'a wife'." Mace wasn't gonna let that slip of the tongue go.

Sam shook his head and gave the twins a faint glimmer of a smile. Those two could always see the humor in any predicament. "Thought I'd give you two options. I know one can't piss without the other goin' too. And there are damn few single women to go around these parts. 'Nough said?" When all of them nodded, he cleared his throat. "I'll be out of town for the next four days. Auction in Abilene. The house is yours."

Guest Blogger: Emma Jay

Obsessions

Thanks so much for having me back, Delilah!

One thing I'm really good at is obsessing. Some of my obsessions are fun, and some are less-so, and a lot of them keep me awake at night.

The most recent is what kind of new couches I want. I've spent hours looking online but all the ones I like are the wrong colors.

And before that it was a steam mop. Of course as soon as I bought one at Walmart, I found one on Amazon $20 cheaper.

And there are the strawberry lemonades at McD's. Some days nothing else will do.

But let's talk about the fun ones.

Last summer, it was The Tudors. I watched every episode, bought the first three seasons (Charles Brandon lost his appeal in season 4) and started reading Phillipa Gregory books.

Then it was Hawaii Five-O, or should I say Alex O'Loughlin. I even bought The Back-Up Plan with him and J-Lo because he was just so adorable in it. I watched some terrible movies just to catch a glimpse of him.

After that it was Jason Aldean. I must have listened to Wide Open (the CD) a hundred times, especially the song "This I Gotta See." SUCH a romantic song.

Then it was Justified, or…Timothy Olyphant. I watched the first disc from Netflix, then bought the first season and watched it in something like three days, and I have season 2 on its way from Amazon. I watched all HIS movies (some were pretty good—I bought The Broken Heart Club, Catch and Release and The Perfect Getaway).

I wish I could get obsessed about something like exercise or healthy cooking or keeping the house clean…heck, what's the fun in that?

What are some of your obsessions?

* * * * *

Check out my new release, Riding Out the Storm, my first ménage from The Wild Rose Press!

Jill Gavin is trying to overcome her bad girl reputation. After a year of celibacy, she's ready to start a grown-up relationship with Ethan Dewitt, one of her co-workers at the Strait Advertising Agency. A weekend conference seems the perfect chance for a romantic weekend. Jill didn't count on her boss sending her former lover Zach Purser with them, and she certainly didn't count on the spring blizzard that strands them in a motel room along the way. She's stuck in a room with her past and future lover. What's a former bad girl to do? And if Jill acts on her desires, what will the men think of her?

By the way—my husband knows I write erotic romance, but he DOESN'T know I wrote a ménage, so let's just keep that between us!

Emma Jay

Update! Beastly Babes deadline extended!

I swiped this pic from SlavFolklore's weblog! Love it!

Because so many of you have said you need just a little more time to wrap up your stories, I'm extending the deadline for submissions for Beastly Babes. Here's a refresher for the guidelines:

Beastly Babes

Editor: Delilah Devlin

Publisher: Cleis Press

Deadline: July 29, 2011 August 15, 2011

Beastly Babes is open to all authors.

Editor Delilah Devlin is looking for lesbian shapeshifter stories for a romantic erotica anthology entitled Beastly Babes.

The concept of shapeshifters—beings both human and animal—ignites our imaginations with visions of primal passions and insatiable hungers. Most commonly seen as dark, masculine demons, shapeshifters are in need of a metaphysical overhaul—a new feminine/Sapphic blending of physical power and inescapable desires.

Beastly Babes will re-envision common and not-so-common myths and deliver a fresh perspective from the storytellers. Traditional lycanthropes and feline familiars are welcome, if told with a fresh twist, but writers are encouraged to imagine greater, and perhaps explore more obscure, lesser-known mythologies from around the world to create inventive tales celebrating feminine power, lust, and erotic love. Concentration primarily focuses on the lesbian relationship, although ménage and secondary m/f depictions will be permitted. Published authors with an established shapeshifter world may use that setting for their original short story.

The stories may be as kinky or vanilla as the writer wants—but a deep sensuality should linger in every word. Exotic locations and scenarios are welcome. Keep in mind there must be a romantic element with a happy-for-now or happy-ever-after ending. Strong plots, engaging characters and unique twists are the ultimate goal. Please no reprints. We are seeking original stories.

How to submit: Prepare your 1,500 to 4,500 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 th epage, include your legal name (and pseudonym if applicable), mailing address, and 50 word or less bio in the third person to cleisbeastlybabe@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. Delilah will respond to you in October 2011. The publisher has final approval over the manuscript.

Payment will be $50.00 USD and two copies of the published book upon publication.

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

A Sneak Peek at ENSLAVED BY A VIKING

October 4th will come sooner than you think! That's the date Enslaved by a Viking releases. It's available for pre-order right now. And if you order early, you will lock in the reduced price of $10.20 (regular price will be $15.00!).

What should you expect from my story? A lushly erotic journey with twenty naked vikings…a brothel where anything goes (and does!)…a battle to end all battles…and a romance that will leave you very, very satisfied. I love this series and want to write more of the stories, but it's up to you. If you read it and love it and talk it up to your friends so that they buy it, then maybe Berkley will be convinced there's a demand for more Vikings in Space. In the meantime, enjoy the opening…

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.