Delilah Devlin's Blog, page 524

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?

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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.

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'.