Delilah Devlin's Blog, page 520

A winner and a question!

I'm being just a little lazy today. My office and bedroom are trashed. I emptied them of furniture to give to my grandmother for her new apartment/suite, and am now shopping for replacements. So all my many things are strewn about. I can't think it's such a mess.

The winner of the Tag It contest is…Shadow! Shadow, email me with your choice of one of my downloadable Samhain or EC titles!

So, here's the question…

If, for one month, you could live at any famous residence or house

in the entire world, which one would you pick?

Snippet Saturday: Uniforms

**Remember! The Skull Stealing Fairy and Tag It contests continue! Click on the contest name for details! ~DD

* * * * *

There's just something about a man in uniform, right? Cops, firefighters, soldiers, TSA agents… Okay, so maybe I went a step too far. Enjoy this excerpt about two hard-ass cops, both struggling with their emotions (and one with her sanity) after a shooting. I loved writing these two. As much as they told each other, "not again," they just couldn't keep their hands off each other. Mmm-mm.

"…loved everything about SIN'S Gift…the way Delilah Devlin sets up her world makes it feel like nothing I've read before…" ~5 Angels and RECOMMENDED READ!, Fallen Angels

"…A turbulent relationship and sexy, spooky thrills await readers in SIN'S GIFT…This is a well written and engrossing tale with complex characters who have hidden depths. Enter into other realms with the highly recommended SIN'S GIFT." ~Romance Reviews Today

"…Wow, I loved this novella. It's fabulously exciting and a fast, exhilarating read…I recommend this book to everyone that loves hot, sexy paranormal story. I love Delilah Devlin's books and this is one of her best yet…" ~5 Hearts, The Romance Studio

Police Officer Sinead O'Rourke returns to duty months after being shot in an incident that also claimed her partner, Danny. Despite being cleared of any negligence, Sin knows her fellow officers wonder whether she's partially responsible for his death. One more problem is that everyone knows she claims she's seen Danny. After months of rehabilitation and counseling, and lying like hell about the fact she's not seeing spooks anymore, Sin's determined to get back into the saddle. But her first day back in the patrol car, Sin sees something more horrifying than the ghost of her dead partner and enters a deadly new world. Jake doesn't want to partner with Sin. Been there, done that—couldn't keep his hands off her the first time around. She's too much of a distraction and her penchant for rushing into trouble scares the hell out of him. Despite wishing she'd quit her job, he's still deeply attracted. When an armed robbery goes down and something happens that rattles Sin to the core, he's right there—ready to cover her back and her sweet body.

"Sure you're ready for this?"

Sin stifled a groan. How many times would she hear that today? She especially didn't want to hear it from Jake Chapa's lips. Lips she knew the texture and taste of all too well.

She didn't respond, still fuming because he hadn't even offered to let her drive. That had been only one of the bitches she'd had partnering with him before. He'd never trusted her. Not with the car. Not with his back.

Now he'd been just fine playing house with her for a while, but he was too much of a chauvinist to ever accept her working at his side.

She'd looked him over when she strode through the garage to the car. He hadn't changed a bit. Same thickly muscled frame, hair so "high and tight" a Marine DI would weep, same sensually charged expression that always made her stomach clench. He'd been a god in bed, but a total asshole as a boyfriend. What was the lieutenant thinking? She thought she knew the answer.

He hoped she'd wash out in a week, and he wouldn't have to worry about her getting anyone else killed.

Only everyone should have known that wasn't what happened. The review board had cleared her—and Danny, posthumously—of any negligence.

Memories too painful to face for months came flooding back. They'd just finished lunch and were arguing over who had to pay the bill. Danny had lost a round of pool the night before, but claimed she'd cheated when he turned his back.

She had. He knew it. She knew he knew it, but he hadn't caught her. A fair loss in her books. A win was a win.

The argument had been lighthearted and one they'd had before. However, when they stepped from under the restaurant awning, they'd walked right into a pair of masked gunmen.

Her hands held a doggy bag. She dropped it and reached for her gun. Before it even cleared her holster, an explosion rocked her off her feet.

She'd woken in the ambulance, EMS shoving fluids in a vein, blood stinging her eyes.

Danny whispered in her ear, "You're gonna make it, Sin. Hold on. Don't go to sleep."

When she'd swum up through the anesthesia after surgery, Jake sat beside her. Danny stood right behind him.

Jake's face had been gray, his expression haggard.

"You look like hell," she croaked, her throat feeling raw. Thick bandages taped across her cheek and under her chin limited the movement of her tongue, which felt thick and dry.

She glanced from Jake to Danny. "Glad to see they didn't get the drop on you too."

"Wasn't anywhere near when it happened," Jake said, his lips tight.

"Not talkin' to you."

Danny's gaze held hers for a long moment, and then he backed away—melting into the wall.

Her screams left her voiceless for days afterward.

Worse, Jake hadn't come back to see her.

Not that she'd missed him. They'd been over a long time before the day Danny bled to death on the pavement. That he'd been Jake's best friend, his high school buddy, had to make it that much harder for him to look at her.

She could hardly stand the sight of her own face. The scar where the .22 caliber bullet tore through her cheek was a daily reminder not to get too close. Ever again. She'd let down her guard, joking with a friend and sharing a smile instead of looking where she was going.

Jake made a turn onto an arched stone bridge, and then slid back into traffic at the next intersection, passing a cop on a bicycle. The cop started to lift his hand in greeting until he spied who sat on the passenger side.

Sin sighed. She had a long way to go. She's been cleared—and that might have been the end of the suspicions—but add the fact she'd lost it and no one wanted to trust her. She'd do like the psychiatrist and the counselor after him recommended. Ease back in. Win their trust slowly through solid police work.

No one could ever know she still saw Danny everywhere. She'd taken the meds for a while, seen a shrink twice a week—and lied like a bitch every time. About Danny, about her insomnia. She hid the dark circles under eyes with makeup and pasted on a smile. She was fine. Just fine. Ready to get back into the saddle.

Only she'd woken that morning feeling sick to her stomach, ready to puke, her hands trembling. She'd shaken some of the antidepressants she hadn't been taking into her palm and swallowed them dry. She'd make it through the day if she had to crawl to the end of it. And Jake would never know what it cost her to sit beside him in silence.

She'd missed him. After they'd broken up, she'd still seen him often. As Danny's best friend, they spent time together after work, unwinding over a pool table and beer. Although she'd pretended she'd been okay with it, she was starved for his company. Waiting for a glimpse of his gaze sharpening on her as though he was trying to crawl into her mind. He'd known her well, but she'd gotten to be an expert at a teasing quip or a nasty barb to deflect him. No way would she let him know how much their breakup had hurt her.

Still hurt. And now, he thought he had to baby-sit a nut job. He hadn't looked at her once since she slid into the seat beside him. "How's Johnny?" she asked, knowing he wouldn't be able to resist talking about his little brother. Johnny had joined the force three years after they had. She'd sat beside Jake at his graduation.

"Fine. He's working at the east substation."

She waited, hoping he'd say more, but his jaw tightened and he glanced into his mirrors, a clear signal he didn't want to make small talk. It was gonna be a long night.

The setting sun cast long shadows as it dipped behind the buildings lining the roads. They turned onto Broadway and passed a bus stop. She glanced inside to the shaded bench and caught a glimpse of a man wearing a tattered military fatigue jacket; the side of his jaw facing her was stubbled with gray hair. When they drew past him, she gave him a nod, and then stared as they pulled away.

Her heart tripped, her stomach knotted. The half she hadn't seen on their approach had appeared blurred—not through physical injury. The left side of his face had looked as though a painter had streaked the colors, muted the edges. The outline of his cheek and jaw had bled away in gray and red strokes. His eyes, however, had been piercing, distinct—and glowing.

Suddenly, Sin thought that maybe everyone had been right. She wasn't ready for this. The bullet that had lodged in her face must have done some real damage to her brain. Rattled it. Jumbled up the signals. How else could she explain the weird things she'd been seeing?

Her stomach lurched and she wished she'd eaten lunch. She thought she might puke and decided to ask Jake to stop the car, but the moment she opened her mouth the radio squawked. An armed robbery was in progress not a block away.

"Gonna respond, O'Rourke?" Jake asked, his tone clipped.

Knowing she should say something, tell him she couldn't do it, that she thought she'd be sick—she reached for the mike, telling the dispatcher they were on their way.

Jake hit the switch, sending the blue and white lights swirling and the siren blaring.

Sin gripped the edge of her seat, girding herself for what was coming. This was something she'd done before. Armed men she could handle. She wasn't unprepared, wasn't carrying her damn lunch. But she hoped like hell her hallucinations would wait until the danger was past.

Just let me get through this. I'll tell the lieutenant I'm through. Christ, I can't let Jake down.

They weren't the first unit to arrive. Jake halted in front of another car turned sideways in the street to block traffic. Out of old habit, Sin hit her mike to let the dispatcher know they'd arrived and slammed open the door, ducking low like the officers who kept their gazes on the shop across the street.

"What do we have?" Sin asked between tightly clenched teeth, hating that her nerves were kicking in.

"Robbery inside that coin shop. The store owner's inside. Maybe one customer. He tripped a silent alarm."

"Any shots fired?" Jake asked, his voice steady and cool.

"None, but there hasn't been any movement either. SWAT's on the way."

Jake took a deep breath, then shot a glance her way. She could read the hesitation in his gaze.

She narrowed her eyes, daring him to voice his concern.

His mouth tightened. "Let's go cover the alley behind it. You follow me."

For once, she didn't mind his taking charge.

With their weapons drawn, they backed away from the other officers, not straightening until they were out of the line of sight of anyone inside the store, then took off at a dead run to the end of the street, turned and headed toward the entrance of the alley that stretched behind the row of small shops.

When they reached the corner of alley, Jake raised an arm, blocking her. "Sin, you ready for this?" he asked. His face had lost its hard-edged reserve. Worry darkened his gaze.

She swallowed and nodded, determined not to let him down. "I have your back."

For a moment longer, he held her gaze, and then his shoulders lifted as he took a deep breath. "Let's go." He flattened his back against the wall of the building and edged closer to the alley to peek into the darkening space. "It's clear." Then he was off.

Sin followed, her gaze darting into the shadows. They sped along the alley, using trash bins to hide behind as they gave each other cover, finally arriving at the back door of the shop.

Jake clicked his mike. "We're at the back door," he said quietly.

"Hold your position."

Dragging deep breaths as quietly as she could to calm her heart, she plastered her back to the opposite side of the door, keeping her gaze on Jake's face, waiting for him to signal her should they need to enter.

He gave her a tight smile, and then something in his expression alerted her. The sound of scuffling feet from inside the shop stopped just the other side of the door. Jake placed a finger over his lips to tell her to stay quiet, then stepped away from the wall, raising his weapon.

Sin kept her back to the wall, lifting her own weapon to point toward the opening.

Two men dashed out, the long barrels of their shotguns pointing outward.

"Drop your weapons," Jake shouted.

The man nearest her lowered the barrel of his shotgun, aiming it straight at Jake. Sin leapt forward, grabbed the barrel and slammed it upward, sticking her own weapon against his side. "Drop it or I swear I'll shoot."

A low growling sound, like that of a trapped mountain lion, erupted from the man whose face she couldn't make out in the shadows. In a movement so fast she didn't have time to even pull back her trigger, he twisted away, let go of the shotgun and shoved her back, taking off in the opposite direction from Jake.

Mad she'd let him get away, she hesitated, gave Jake a quick glance and saw he had already wrestled his subject to the ground. Jake's brows drew into a fierce scowl as his gaze followed the fleeing suspect.

She knew if he could have, he'd have handed her his suspect and taken chase himself rather than let her go. "I've got it," she said, glad he was safe and already speeding past him.

"Don't get your ass hurt!" he shouted after her, the charged words accompanied by the snick of handcuffs encircling his man's wrists.

Sin dropped the shotgun she still held and sprinted down the alley, following the footfalls clapping so fast, she wondered if she had a chance to overtake him. "One's heading south down the alley," she barked into her mike. "Chapa's got the other cuffed. Need backup."

Glad she'd been working out, running miles to rebuild her strength, Sin trailed the man, just keeping him in sight. She concentrated on her breathing, listened to the steady but rapid beat of her heart. While her body shoved past her endurance, her mind calmed. Jake was okay. She had an unarmed man to take down, or at least to track. She could handle this. Maybe she really was ready to be back.

More sirens whined in the distance. When the robbery suspect turned onto another street, she kept on his tail. "He turned north on Brooklyn." She felt strong, not even winded yet. Maybe she was ready for this after all.

The sirens drew closer. "Where ya gonna go, bastard," she said more to herself than the man sprinting up the block ahead of her. At the corner of an intersection, he paused to check traffic, glancing back at her.

Her heart thudded heavily in her chest.

Caught in the light from a streetlamp, half his face blurred away—same as the homeless guy at the bus stop. Golden eyes glowed.

"No. Goddamn it, not now," she whispered.

She didn't let her steps falter or slow, forced herself to ignore the warning clambering in her mind. She kept on his ass, ignoring the blare of horns as he ran into the traffic. She darted right behind him, keeping her gaze on him, not the cars blasting their horns or squealing their tires.

She wasn't gonna lose him because she'd lost her mind.

When he ducked into a space between two buildings, she almost smiled. She had him cornered. The end of the narrow space was the back of another building. No exit. All she had to do was wait him out. She relayed her location. Another officer was only a minute away.

She ducked into the channel, too narrow to drive into, but wide enough for two men to walk through shoulder to shoulder. Still running, she shouted ahead, "You can't make it out of here. It's a dead end."

His steps didn't slow.

So he didn't believe her, and she wanted to see his face again, wanted to look closely and erase the blurred image she held in her mind. She kept running. Gaining on him, she reached out for the back of his shirt, grabbing a wad of cotton and jerked. The building at the end was just ahead. All she had to do was swing him around and she'd take him down.

Only he was strong. He kept moving forward, dragging her behind him. She tried to dig in her heels to slow them down, but he wouldn't let her. At the last moment before they slammed into the wall, she raised her other arm to brace for the sudden stop, knowing it would hurt like hell.

The man growled again, the low, grating hum sounding like a big cat's squall, and leapt the last few feet, jerking her off her feet and through a hole that glimmered at the edges before it flickered out.

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

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

Mari Carr

McKenna Jeffries

Taige Crenshaw

Lacey Savage

Sasha White

Shelli Stevens

T.J. Michaels

Guest Blogger: Paisley Smith (Contest)

**Psst! Ms. Paisley and I have an announcement to make! We've just contracted to write two anthologies and one co-written book with Ellora's Cave! The books are dark and kinky and filled with vamps and witches. We can't wait to start sharing more details! ~DD

Is Kink the New Black?

When Ellora's Cave first announced their new kink line, I thought I'd never be able to write kink. Until I realized just how kinky my fantasies really are!

Kink is definitely a new trend in erotic romance and I think it's here to stay. But do you have to be into a particular kink to enjoy reading about it? I don't think so. For me, anyway, it's all about the fantasy. And kink romance, like bdsm romance, is all about the power exchange between the characters.

While doing research for Nurse Lovette, I was amazed to discover how many forms of kink there are. From furries to tickle fetishists, they all had one thing in common and that was the sub / dom (or in my case, domme) relationship.

In Nurse Lovette, Avery is a woman whose medical fetish fantasies have prevented her from finding intimacy with her sexual partners. Her therapist encourages her to find a partner who is willing to explore these fantasies in real life. Avery quickly discovers there's more behind her inability to find intimacy than she realized.

Everybody has a kinky side although it might not be as extreme as Avery's. Is there a kink or fetish you enjoy reading about that you might or might not try in real life?

I'll put the commenters names in a hat and draw one for a free download of Nurse Lovette!

Or click here to buy it now from Ellora's Cave!

After two failed marriages, Avery Walker is encouraged by her therapist to explore her secret obsession. She can't get off without fantasizing about submitting to intimate examinations—performed by a hot female nurse. When she joins a medical fetish website, she expects to find a partner who'll provide a little probing and maybe some sexual release to help Avery get in touch with her kinky side.

Then she meets Nurse Lovette…

The consummate professional, Darby Lovette is determined to keep her relationship with Avery one of nurse and patient—nearly impossible when the gorgeous woman is on the exam table, willingly submitting to unspeakably intimate "procedures". The fact that she's loved and lost helps Darby maintain her resolve; falling in love isn't part of her treatment plan. But Avery's determination to explore sex with a woman just might be the cure for what ails them both.

Reader Advisory: This book employs myriad toys created especially for erotic exams, no holes barred, and, ahem…perhaps a sensual enema—or two.

An Exotika™ erotica story from Ellora's Cave

Chapter One

Avery Walker pushed her untouched pastry away. She couldn't have swallowed even if she'd been hungry. Today, not even the soothing scent of fresh-ground coffee and cinnamon buns could quiet her nerves. Today, she was meeting Darby Lovette in person for the first time.

Today, she was facing—and sharing—her darkest, most taboo fantasies.

Encouraged by her therapist, Avery had joined a fetish dating website. After two failed marriages to men, she had very reluctantly decided it might be time to confront her secret desires head on, to see if her therapist was right about the fact that fear was the only thing keeping her from having a real relationship. She'd signed up under the moniker Model Patient Seeks Nurse and had anonymously detailed the particulars of her fetish.

Avery had studied enough psychology in college to know a fetish like hers could drive a wedge between fantasy and real intimacy. How could it possibly help to bring her closer to anyone?

And a stranger at that?

The bell over the coffee shop door sounded and Avery looked up just as said stranger walked in.

Clad in sky-blue scrubs and with her blonde hair done up in an untidy knot on the back of her head, Darby didn't look at all like what Avery had expected. Instead, Darby looked normal.

Wild panic surged. Avery had never admitted her "playing doctor" fantasies out loud to anyone except her therapist. And while the therapist had assured her such fantasies were common, and in fact, quite normal, Avery couldn't believe it.

And yet years of unsatisfying sex with two husbands and a slew of boyfriends had driven her to this meeting. Slowly, she gained her feet and tried to force a smile as Darby glanced around the coffee shop. When their gazes met, Darby's face brightened. She gave a little wave before going to the counter to get coffee.

Avery watched her. Fresh faced and seemingly carefree, Darby didn't look like a fetish freak. What would drive a woman like this to participate in medical-fetish kink?

Avery's pulse skittered as Darby sweetened her coffee and then headed for the table.

"You must be Avery," she greeted, as if they were meeting at a social function instead of for a fetish hook-up.

Darby juggled her purse and coffee cup and extended her hand. Avery shook it firmly, surprised by the little jolts of electric current running through her already at the other woman's touch. Even given her initial attraction, she still doubted herself in coming here. How could she go through with this?

Living out her fantasies. What on earth had she been thinking?

They both sat and a steep moment of awkward silence ensued.

"So…you've never done this before?" Darby asked as she hung her purse on the back of her chair.

"No." Now that the ice had been broken, mild relief washed through Avery. "I'm…I'm not even sure I want to."

"That's a pretty normal reaction." Darby smiled then sipped her coffee. "I'll tell you a little bit about me. Not too much though, because I think familiarity can tend to spoil the fantasy. Especially at first."

"I can see how that could happen." The one time Avery had tried anything akin to role-playing with her first husband, it had just seemed corny. Besides, in her fantasies, the doctors and nurses were always women.

"I've been in nursing for nearly ten years. I love helping people. I love being there for people and, most of all, the feeling of being needed," Darby explained. "In all kinds of ways."

The meaningful look emanating from Darby's blue eyes made Avery's clit ignite. "So I take it you've had other…partners."

"I experimented with some of my girlfriends over the years but they accepted it mostly because tequila was involved." Darby let out a self-deprecating laugh. "But my last girlfriend…she…uh…she left when things became too familiar."

Obviously, Darby had invested more in the relationship than her partner. She blinked several times as if trying to ward off tears and then she inhaled and became all business once more. "So, as I told you in my email, I'm not looking for a relationship. I'm looking to satisfy your needs as well as my own. No strings attached."

"After two divorces, I'm right there with you," Avery said.

Darby's head tilted slightly. "That's right. You've never been with a woman before, have you?"

Avery's stomach clenched. "Not really. I fooled around with friends in high school. You know, practicing for boys and all. Even then I knew I found women attractive but I was too scared to act on it. I guess the bottom line is I'm a hot mess."

Some of Avery's tension melted when Darby laughed.

She turned and reached into her bag, producing a piece of paper. "I believe I already told you I have the room and all the equipment. Marissa and I were together for two years—" Darby stopped and sighed before she pushed the paper and a pen across the table. "Many of my medical supplies are especially made for the fetish. I'll show you each one before I use it. I have a list of the procedures I'm willing to perform. Check off the ones you'll accept and then we'll schedule your first appointment. I like to keep it as official as possible."

"Yes, yes. I want that too," Avery said as she peered down at the list. Her insides tangled. Some of the procedures, as Darby called them, seemed benign enough. Taking the temperature—although anally was in parentheses—blood pressure, height and weight. But farther down the list, breast exam, manual vaginal exam, pelvic exam with use of a speculum, pelvic ultrasound, manual rectal exam with and without a speculum…

Avery's heart pounded so hard she could hear the blood rushing in her ears. Her vision glazed and she blinked to focus. A note at the end of the long list stated that punishment and sexual reward was available if the patient desired. Avery gulped. She hadn't even told her therapist she fantasized about some of these things.

But she did.

* * * * *

About the author ~

I'm Paisley Smith! I am a full time freelance writer and can usually be found in front of my computer either writing, chatting, promoting or plotting. It's a glamorous life…working in one's pajamas.

I attended college in the Deep South where I obtained a slew of totally useless degrees and developed an unrelenting sense of humor.

My books can be found at Ellora's Cave , Loose Id, and Cleis Press!

I'm a member of Romance Writers of America and Passionate Ink.

Check out my website for more info! http://paisley-smith.com

Tag It Day! (Contest!)

**Remember! The Skull Stealing Fairy contest continues! Post to enter! ~DD

I know you all need something to do today. I have the perfect activity. It's "Tag It" day! What's that, you say?

Well, on Amazon.com, they have this marvelous little section on each book's page entitled "Tags Customers Associate with This Product." Why is it significant? It's how customers find the kinds of books they love. The more people who click on the tag, the higher the number of tags it accumulates, and the more likely the book is to appear on one of those searches. Then a reader seeking "cowboy" books, might actually find the author's cowboy book.

I have several books that could benefit from being tagged. I promise, it only takes a few seconds of time to do it!

* Handy Men has been moving steadily up the list. A few more tags might bump it up a bit more. Click on the link to open the page: Handy Men

* While Begging For It has been accumulating some terrific reviews, it needs help for readers to discover the story. Click on this link to help: Begging For It

* Undeniable is still finding an audience among readers who love a little cross-genre hopping: Undeniable

And then there are the two big books I have coming in September and October. They are both available for pre-order at a reduced price, so it's not too soon to tell readers about them. Here are the links for you to hop on over and "tag" the hell out of the books!

* Enslaved by a Viking (Kindle) and Enslaved by a Viking (paperback)

* Girls Who Bite

For Girls Who Bite, be sure to open up all 21 tags so you can click on my name. It's not appearing at the moment because I wasn't as fast as some of the contributing authors to get my name listed in the tags.

So let me know if you did this and whether it was something you never considered doing before or something you found a total pain in the ass. I do it for authors I love. Maybe you'll think about it the next time you head to Amazon. Along with heartfelt reviews, tagging can really help.

And because I never ask for a favor without offering something in return, for any of you who post today telling me about your experience, I'll hold a drawing for a free download of any of my Samhain or Ellora's Cave books. I'll name the winner in Sunday's post, so you have plenty of time to make your way down the list!

Authors, if you drop by today, be sure to leave a link to your book at Amazon in the comments for helpful readers to find!

Guest Blogger: Delphine Dryden

Taking it Down a Notch

When people ask me what I write, I tailor my answer to the crowd. On the internet, or any time I'm going by my pen name, I proudly and gleefully state that I write erotic romance (or shorter: I write smut!). If my kid's teacher asks, on the other hand, I just say, "Romance novels. Trashy ones. You're not old enough to read them." And when my mom's friends ask me about my books as we're sipping tea at the country club, wow do I get coy. Some of her friends are among my readers, and some are not, and you really wouldn't want to confuse the two groups.

Anyway, it's a long-running joke in my family that at some point I'm going to have to write something I can publish under my real name, so that my mom can show her friends (and I can show my kids' teachers) something I've written…and nobody will get thrown out of the country club, or booted off the PTA. So when I started writing Gossamer Wing, the steampunk book I'd been planning for years, I decided it was time to take the plunge—or rather, it was time to come into the shallows from out of the deep end—and try my hand at writing a mainstream-heat-level romance.

Harder than you might think. Heh. And that "heh" right there is a good example of why it's so difficult. When you write erotica, you grow accustomed to seeing the world through the lens of double entendre. Especially when you write BDSM erotica, way over there on the far end of the kinkiness spectrum. If all you have is a flogger, eventually everything starts to look like a tush. Since I started out as an erotic romance writer and most of my books are at least somewhat kink-oriented, I had virtually no experience with vanilla romance writing. If I was going to write the stuff, I realized I had to ditch the flogger.

For one thing, there's the vocabulary to unlearn. I had an epic twitter conversation about this one day with several other writers of varying heat levels, discussing the words we could/couldn't use for our various imprints. I rely heavily, for instance, on words that rhyme with "snit", "wussy", and "shunt" in my erotica writing. Another author couldn't even get away with using the word that rhymes with "flock". None of us liked to use the one that rhymes with "stick", but the historical writers occasionally used that other one that rhymes with "stick". Lost yet? Maybe you had to be there, but my point is that without those words, I felt kind of lost, and I had to get creative in a whole new way to keep my book's sexytimes sexy without overdoing it (yeah, I totally still used snit and flock, though).

The other, and perhaps more important thing, was the shift from a sex-centric story to a story that just happened to have a lot of sex in it. In erotic romance, a lot of the story is told through the sex; that's where the character development takes place, that's often where the conflict arises, that's the point of the sub-genre. In Gossamer Wing, though, the story involves a neo-Victorian North America that never was, a robotically enhanced French spy, a hero who builds astonishing gadgetry out of spare parts, and daring airship exploits by the intrepid heroine. They're saving the world, and when they stop to have sex they're stopping the action of the book. That was a big problem.

The key, of course, turned out to be using the sex just like I'd always used it—as a vehicle for character development. By keeping the characters' arcs firmly in mind, I learned to weave the lovin' into the story in such a way that it didn't bring things to a grinding—heh—halt (at least I hope it doesn't). And going through that learning process gave me a whole new appreciation for mainstream romance writers who strike that balance well. After several years of immersing myself in erotic romance, I've started reading mainstream romance again (for the first time since my teenage years) and adoring it.

I have no plans to stop writing the hot stuff, but taking it down a notch and going mainstream has been a surprisingly good experience for me both as a writer and as a reader. I'm already working on a sequel to Gossamer Wing, and this time my focus is on learning to switch back and forth between mainstream and erotica writing modes without going too nuts over those words that rhyme with flock, snit, and wenis (nobody finds that one sexy)!

For a peek at the hot stuff (since Gossamer Wing isn't sold yet) check out Tangled Truth, my latest from Ellora's Cave. Go ahead, read an excerpt! It's the third of four books in my contemporary series, Truth & Lies.

Tangled Truth isn't remotely mainstream, and it features shibari, Japanese rope bondage. Lots of fun! Rhymes with…nah, I got nothin'.

So what if she's got a creepy fetish!

A new contest is here with another very cool prize!

What can you win?

This trinket box that I purchased from my favorite curio shop, Christi's Gifts & Consignment

(870-230-1877).

What do you have to do?

Post comments on my blog or my Facebook page. Every comment you make over the next two weeks will count as one entry. Could I make it any easier?

The contest ends August 1st!

To start you off right, you can post here today AND at Wild & Wicked Cowboys. I've posted a very sexy picture of a cowboy. Come help me dream up a story to go along with it!

This 'n' That & a Winner!

I think I'm tired of day-tripping. This past weekend while friends held down the fort here, I drove to North Arkansas to my sister's, then trekked across to Oklahoma where we both led a plotting bootcamp on Saturday. Then it was back to North Arkansas to drop off sis before making my way back south. Those were a lot of miles, and the whole time I was away I fretted about my past due deadlines.

I have plenty of excuses for why I can't get my work done, but none that truly excuse me. I used to write when I worked full time AND did my once a month National Guard stint WITH needy children underfoot!

Last week, last minute (I stayed up until Midnight on Thursday), I wrote a short story for a Cleis collection. That's the sum total of my writing accomplishments last week. I have to do much better this week. Do you have any suggestions for how I might stay focused or organize my time better?

But y'all don't want to hear me whine, do you? You want to know who won that cute little book dragron, right? (Yes, I know I still have the last prizes to get out the door. I'll do that this week, come hell or high water!)

The winner, from among 190 entries is…Karen C! Congratulations, Karen! Be sure to email me with your snail mail address.

I'll be back with a brand new contest tomorrow, so be sure to check in!

Guest Bloggers: A. Catherine Noon and Rachel Wilder

WHEN BETA RELATIONSHIPS BECOME SERIOUS

or "How To Use a Catcher's Mitt"

From ACN: When I go to my writing group and mention to friends of mine that I write with a collaborator, or as I call her, a co-author, I get odd looks. One even suggested that it couldn't possibly be a collaboration and that really I must be doing all the work. But that really couldn't be farther from the truth.

As in any good partnership, once synergy happens, one can't tell where an idea began once it gets going. The whole really is greater than the sum of its parts. (And here you thought two and two only ever equaled four!) Rachel and I started working together several years ago as "beta readers" for each other. For those of you unfamiliar with the term, a beta reader is a second pair of eyes who looks at your manuscript and helps to pinpoint areas of weakness. It is not, generally, a line editor. (In fact, many beta readers that I've known refuse to line edit.)

When Rachel first sent me a manuscript to look through, what struck me right off was the strength of the story. It did need help with some of the technical details, but the underpinnings were rock-solid. Contrary to what many writers have said in my hearing, it is my belief that STORY is everything. If you don't have a good story, you just have well-constructed grammar exercises. After all, it's not very interesting to read "The quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dog."

From RW: I would say that several of the main benefits are input and a second opinion when world building. It also helps to have another pair of eyes when editing and another brain when creating, as well as a built in support system for the tough times. It's fun to trade ideas and use each other as a sounding board.

Back to ACN: As we worked together, we started talking about how we might write a story together. I suggested a blog, and created Taurus and Taurus. That is how our serial novel NEW WORLD ORDER came to be. At first, Rachel took one character and I another, and we essentially role-played our way through the story. We have the first, second, and third books all plotted out as well as ideas for a couple spin offs.

When we started writing BURNING BRIGHT, we knew we had something special. The story literally flew off the keyboard. The bulk of the story got written in under four weeks. We realized that not only did we have something, we could replicate it with other stories.

From RW: It was when we were discussing a spin off that we decided to be bold and submit it. We utilize Google chat, many times creating and writing entire scenes that are copied, pasted and polished into the manuscript. Another tool is Google documents where we will have a glossary that we can add to and share between us. The most important tool is a fantastic long distance phone plan so we can talk and plot out ideas.

Back to ACN: In some ways, it's like a marriage. We are, at times, so deeply in one-another's heads that we finish each other's sentences. We utilize each other's strengths. Rachel prefers research and I work on deep POV (point of view) and we both share the fun of writing the smut scenes. The worlds that we create together become real to us. We create maps of our characters' homes, cities, and properties. We look up pictures of interior designs to use. We even took a week-long trip in Chicago and Madison to research locations. Making the stories more real helps the creative process.

And, what's more, it's great fun!

"Fun" is greatly underrated as a creative influence. So many writers I speak with seem to feel that they must be "disciplined" in their writing, or it won't be real. I think that's tosh. Fun is something that our human spirit needs in order to be happy. The great creators of the world (DaVinci, Michelangelo, Shakespeare, and our contemporary greats like Cherry Adair, Jody Lynn Nye, and Stephen King – not to mention Delilah Devlin) share a deep and abiding love of the craft. That's why they do it and it comes through in WHAT they do. The more we can get the fun back in the writing, the more we as writers can create.

For Rachel and I, having a "Catcher's Mitt," someone there to encourage a nascent story into existence, is as critical as air or water. Julia Cameron in her seminal book THE ARTIST'S WAY talks about the Catcher's Mitt being the kind of person who believes in WHAT you're doing, beyond whether you're doing it well or even right. They can see past the wobbly first drafts to the beauty within and keep their sights squarely on that belief. They believe it so hard, that you begin to believe it too – and together, you midwife a new thing into being. That's a little like how Rachel and I work. We prompt each other through writing slumps and offer encouragement daily. Everyone suffers from the Inner Critic, that voice that murmurs, "This isn't any good, what are you doing? That's not how you spell chair!!" The trick is to get your work out past that censor and onto the page.

After all, didn't we learn it in first grade? Walk with a buddy. Life is just safer that way.

A. Catherine Noon and Rachel Wilder

Blog Website

**Watch for BURNING BRIGHT, coming from Samhain Publishing September, 2011!

Guest Blogger: Denise Agnew (Contest)

Gritty Historical Novels

by Denise A. Agnew

Romance novels have a happy ending, and that's one of the reasons why I love them. That doesn't mean that I don't like a novel with grit. You know, the type of novel that really is heart-wrenching, makes you think something seriously bad is happening to the hero and heroine and that they will have to fight for their lives and their happiness.

While I love writing contemporary novels, I've found my true voice in historical romance. Here I feel like I can sink my teeth into everything dramatic, romantic.

Research isn't something I shy from when I'm researching a historical novel. In fact, it's one of the elements I find compelling. Not only do I discover what I need to accurately portray the people and times for that novel, I love learning about a new time period and place.

Historical novels are calling on me at all levels lately. In summer 2010, Samhain Publishing released a reprint of my Jack The Ripper novel (original title Midnight Rose) under the title Dark, Deadly Love. On January 4, 2011 Samhain released For A Roman's Heart. Both novels have stunning covers! Thank you to the wonderful artist Kanaxa. In June of 2011 Samhain released Before The Dawn and it also has a beautiful cover. Each novel started with a kernel of an idea and blossomed into a story I loved writing.

And what about the future? I have six…count 'em…six historical novels either in the works or in the idea stages. The six are broken into two separate trilogies but they all involve paranormal elements.

Here's a tidbit of BEFORE THE DAWN to tantalize you.

A fallen woman must decide to stay down, or rise and fight…

Elijah McKinnon has been found innocent of a heinous murder, but it doesn't erase the hellish years in prison he endured. He boards the train to Pittsburgh a changed man, certain he will never feel free until he's wreaked revenge on the brother who ruined his life.

The passenger who catches his eye is intriguing, but he's seen her kind before. The kind who puts on airs—and looks down on Irishmen. Still, he can't seem to stop himself from stepping between her and a pack of ruthless cads.

Mary Jane Lawson is grateful for the handsome stranger's help, but her journey has a higher purpose: to rise above her shattered reputation and declare her independence, come flood or famine. Propriety says she should refuse Elijah's suggestion they pose as husband and wife—for her own protection, of course. Her practical side says it won't hurt to pretend, just this once.

Come nightfall, though, their little charade must be carried all the way to shared sleeping quarters, where their vulnerabilities become painfully clear. And when danger past and present threatens, trusting each other becomes a matter of life and death.

Product Warnings: A hot Irish accent mixed with high adventure may cause combustion. Beware of falling for this hunk. The heroine says he's hers.

She stumbled along in his wake, no energy to ask why they pushed onward into the woods where no one from the train could help them. Thinking that far ahead caused more trepidation, so she concentrated on planting one shoe in front of the other. After what seemed an endless time, a rocky outcropping and massive hill rose in front of them.

"Thank the saints." He tugged her forward. "Here." He released her hand long enough to shove aside shrubbery and reveal a tall opening. She saw his throat work as he swallowed hard. "Damnation. I don't want to go in here, but we must. I'll go first, you follow."

His voice snapped like a general, and she flinched. His eyes went hard, unyielding.



The darkness beyond the crevice appeared to be a wide mouth without teeth. What horrors lay inside? Unreasoning fear stilled her courage. She sucked in a quick breath. If Elijah could conquer his apprehension, so could she.

He crawled in, headfirst. When he disappeared into the maw, all went quiet. Even the wind didn't stir, and the rain stopped. Her entire body quaked. Nightmares of deep, unknown places from childhood tormented her from the edges. They beckoned, dared her to stay brave and to remain sane.

Elijah's hand came out and then his head. "It's larger than I thought. It's a deep rock shelter."

She clasped his hand and leaned down. He released her once she started inside. She crawled on hands and knees and discovered enough headroom to stand and several feet on both sides. Light penetrated from a large crack in the ceiling.

He inched around in front of her and made certain the hole stayed thoroughly covered by the foliage. Turning back, he stopped. He put one finger to his lips in a gesture of silence. He pulled his weapon from the inner waistcoat pocket and held it, prepared for use. They stayed that way for several minutes. Time stretched in front of her, an eternity of waiting, of anxiety ridden breaths and heart pounding apprehension. Safety still felt far removed. Now that they had stopped running, she heard her own breath rasping, her heart pounding in her ears as her body slowed. Reaction came without remorse. Tears flowed and fell to her cheeks. She regulated her breath by slow turns, and yet her body remained tense. After what seemed an eternity, he made his way past her and sat against one wall. He gestured for her to come closer.

She eased towards him on her hands and knees, her crinoline bunching up in the way. Frustrated, she frowned. She never hated fashion more than this moment.

"Take off the crinoline. We're leaving it and the corset behind," he said.

She hesitated and then realized the wisdom in his request. Mary Jane rose to her feet. "Help me. I have to remove the dress first."

He nodded, his face etched with a harsh determination. She turned away from him. Methodically he unbuttoned the back of the dress while she pulled the hatpins out of her hat and hair. As his fingers moved, a fleeting thought raced by. Even in these desperate moments of flight, his fingers brushing with heat through dress, corset and chemise somehow made her incredibly aware of him as a man. Then the thought fled.

She tossed the pins in a corner and flung the hat aside. She was surprised the thing had not fallen off before now. Her dress stuck to her, sodden with rain and made the buttons more difficult to undo. She would have to dress in it again once she removed the corset and crinoline, but what choice did she have? Before she knew it the shoulders and the tight sleeves eased away from her skin. Eager, she pulled the garment off her arms until she peeled it all the way down and it fell around her waist. She wriggled to shove it off her hips. She stepped out of the dress and worked on the ties that held the crinoline in place. As they remained quiet, a sense of urgency filled the air. They must hurry in case his brother found them and they must fight. She shoved the horsehair padding downward, and he came around to the front and knelt in front of her.

"Here," he whispered. "Lift your legs one at a time, and I'll pull it off."

She complied, and quicker than she expected, Elijah crumpled the nuisance and shoved it into a corner. Without speaking he returned to stand behind her and made short work of the corset laces. When it loosened around her ribs, she sucked in a breath. That felt so much better. Though she never worn her corset particularly tight, removing the garment was liberating. She took one deep breath after another. When he loosened it completely, he pulled it over her head. It, too, went into the corner.

Now that she stood in nothing but chemise, pantalets, stockings and boots, she trembled with cold. His hands rested on her shoulders for a second, and then he turned her around.

His eyes had lost their harshness, but they held no awareness of her as a woman. He had shut down for the fight, all efficiency in the face of danger. "I know the dress is cold and wet, but you have to put it back on. If they find us here…"

She put her fingers over his lips. For a few unguarded seconds, his eyes flared. She'd never imagined green eyes could burn this bright and hot with emotion. Quickly he shut it off, like a flame doused under a rush of water. He helped her back into the dress, which went much faster.

Once done, he sat, propped his back against the wall and stared at her. He drew up one leg and propped his forearm on his knee. With his disheveled hair, sweat beading on his forehead, and a harsh look in his eyes, he looked every inch the dastardly criminal. Part of her wanted to run from him too. After all, she was in this predicament because his brother had a vendetta with Elijah. His rumpled waistcoat hung open, dirt and something red smeared over one side. Worry speared her.

She sank to her knees in the damp earth in front of him. She grabbed the lapels of his waistcoat and parted them. "You are bleeding."

"No. I'm not. That's the blood of the man I killed."

Her lips parted but nothing came out at first. She struggled with her words. "We both… I hit that man with a rock, Elijah. I killed him."

"I know, darlin'." His voice softened, the rough understanding lowering his husky voice. "I know."

More tears came, and as they rained down, her face crumpled.

"Shhh…" He reached for her and pulled her into his lap.

He cuddled her close, his powerful arms providing shelter she desperately craved. She wept quietly, holding back the rage screaming fear. She shuddered and quaked. She saw a misery in his gaze, a genuine sorrow. She touched his face and felt the bristle of beard growing there. In those quiet moments, Mary Jane heard nothing more than gentle breaths, felt nothing more than his heat beneath her, cradling and comforting.

Understanding, like that she had witnessed before, warmed his eyes and softened his visage. His lips parted. She stared at that handsome mouth and wanted it on hers with undeniable desperation.

Closer, closer still, he tilted towards her until…his mouth touched hers with exquisite gentleness. When her lips parted under pressure, his tongue pushed inside. Retreated. Caressed. Owned her mouth with sweet, deep thrusts. She arched into that kiss, breath puffing into him, mouth moving in response, tongue tangling in carnal dance.

Elijah broke away with a gasp, eyes still blazing.

He leaned closer until he whispered in her ear. "If we were anywhere else and completely safe, you would be beneath me. Naked."

Blunt as his words were, they excited Mary Jane and made her forget their harrowing flight.

"But we can't." His burning gaze lingered on her mouth, then recaptured her eyes. "I would put you in danger, and that's the last thing I want. Promise me something."

"Anything." The word, so definitive and complete, left her throat without a pause.

"If they find us here and anything happens to me, you fight with everything in you. You fight to live. You understand?"

"No—I— you are not going to die." Her voice broke. "That will not happen."

"If there's one thing I learned incarcerated in Eastern State, it was that bad things happen and you cannot always stop them. If that bad thing happens, and I cannot keep you safe…you do what you need in order to live." His gaze was fierce and demanding. "You understand me?"

"Yes." The excruciating thought twisted a hot knife in her breast. "Yes."

* *

This evening I'll pick one winner from the comments to receive a trade paperback from my backlist. Thanks so much for taking the time to say hello today! ~ Denise

TGIF? Maybe…

I'm soooo not motivated to go on another trip, but sis and I agreed to lead a plotting workshop for the Oklahoma City RWA chapter. The class is tomorrow, but I'm heading out the door today to travel to my sister's house (she lives in northern Arkansas). From there, we'll make the trip into OKC.

While I'm away, I have two guests signed on to keep you entertained:

Saturday — Denise Agnew

Sunday — A. Catherine Noon and Rachel Wilder

Be sure to drop by and comment. The Book Dragon Contest continues! Click here for more details!

And just so that you have something to talk about when you post, help me with a little brainstorming.

I need a title for an eerie book set in the bayou country in Louisiana. There's a monster in the water—a darkly seductive monster who tempts the hero. Our heroine will be there to keep him on the straight and narrow so he doesn't end up the creature's next meal. Throw out suggestions! There's never a stupid idea when you brainstorm, because just a single word can spark another idea, then another…

I'll check in, if I can, to see how you're doing! ~DD