Delilah Devlin's Blog, page 531

Buy it at Amazon! And a contest!

Are you getting tired of that image yet? Yeah, me neither.

Good news is that you can buy it NOW at Amazon's Kindle store! And we're offering it at a reduced price, just $.99 until next Monday, so don't wait too long! Buy Link

Myla and I would appreciate help getting the word out. What we'd love you to do for us is:

1) Tag, star, and "Like" the book wherever you bought it!

2) Review it, if you feel comfortable doing that!

3) Post the cover/blurb on your blog, if you have one, to help us get the word out. (Ask! One of us will send you a jpeg!)

4) Most importantly, BUY it! It will stay cheap until next Monday. Then I'll be jacking up the price to what it should be: $2.99!

If you're the competitive sort, we're running a contest and will offer two $25.00 gift certificates to two lucky winners. What you have to do is send us a link to where you talked about the book, posted a review, posted the cover and the blurb. And you can enter multiple times, so if you are smart, send me a link for each individual posting to this address: Email Delilah!

While we are waiting to be Moonstruck…

Yes, I'm going just a little nuts waiting for Amazon to add the buy link to Moonstruck. The cover is up, the description is there. There's just no freaking way to buy it yet! I will come back and post an update here as soon as it's live. In the meantime, if you want to come help keep me from going nuts, I'm playing at Wild & Wicked Cowboys, and looking for you to help me plot the next story!

Mosey on over… Wild & Wicked Cowboys

Another stop on the Lesbian Cops blog tour!

While Moonstruck is busy uploading at Kindle and Smashwords, let's talk about my contribution to Cleis Press's Lesbian Cops.

I love writing shorts. Those of you who visit often know that I do it for fun. It's a way to experiment with a genre I've never tried or simply to clear my mind when I'm deep into a longer story.

When Sacchi's call for submissions went out, I was all over it! Over the years, I've had cop friends, lesbian cop friends, so my story about a big city cop moving to a small southern town was very nearly biographical (and parts autobiographical—but I'm not telling which!). The funny things that happen to the cop in my story are true. The dry humor, the tight-knit friendships are real as well.

I got my copy in the mail the other day and have started reading through the stories. They're hot, varied in tone and style, and very well done. You're going to love this. And even if the theme isn't your persuasion, I think you'll be drawn in. I worked with Sacchi on Lesbian Cowboys, and she knows a good story when she sees it.

If you'd like to check out the other stops in Sacchi's blog tour, check out her website: Sacchi's Blog

(Click on the cover to buy!)

What is it about lesbian cops that pushes all the right buttons? It's not just the uniform, with handcuffs and weapons, or the confidence, authority, and sense of danger. There's something more as well, an irresistible force that these writers have channeled into fiercely erotic stories of policewomen in or out of uniform, on patrol or undercover, in charge or in need of healing, on the case or under the sheets.

The action can be gut-level tough, as in Jove Belle's "Hollis" where anti-terrorism boot camp surges over the inevitable edge into BDSM, or heart-wrenching as in Evan Mora's "A Cop's Wife" when death threats sharpen the need for life-affirming sex to a keen edge, or quirky as well as steamy while Teresa Noelle Roberts's cop finds a way to maintain respect for her own "Dress Uniform" while indulging her anime-girl lover's cos-play kink. Delilah Devlin, Andrea Dale, R. G. Emanuelle, Cheyenne Blue, and all the other contributors offer their own sizzling visions of the complexity and depth, the strength and vulnerability, and above all the commanding, overwhelming sex appeal of Lesbian Cops.

From The Only Game in Town, Lesbian Cops:

I wondered why I'd bothered changing out of my uniform before hitting the bar. Back in the city, the department had strict rules about drinking in uniform. However here, a circle of black uniforms sat crowded around the table in the far corner, cold beers sweating on the scarred wood.

Lonny James caught sight of me and waved me over. "Make room, guys."

He said guys, but there was another female among them. Officer Brown, the bicycle cop who patrolled up and down Main Street in little black bike shorts during shopping hours.

I gave her a nod then glanced around the table. Lonny pulled out the chair beside him without rising. I sank into it gratefully and accepted the beer he slid my way.

"So how was your first day?"

I shrugged. Boring might sound rude, like a big city cop telling the rest of them their jobs were cakewalks. "It was okay, I guess."

"Get any looks?"

"What do you mean?"

"We aren't used to female cops here."

My glance swung toward Office Brown whose lips pressed into a thin line.

"You've already got one," I murmured.

"Yeah, but…" Lonny wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed, and apparently had to think a minute about how to respond when he thought everyone should already know. "She's on a bike."

What an idiot.

I gave a soft laugh, rolled my eyes at Brown and sucked down foam as the men on my shift began to talk about their interesting day.

Lonny's story was the best. He'd intervened between two yard archrivals over a dispute about a sycamore that dropped its pods on the wrong side of a fence. Lonny might not have been all that sharp but his slow drawling recounting of how he'd faced off against men armed with a chain saw and a rake had everyone chuckling, including me.

Lonny's gaze dropped to my mouth. "You're pretty when you smile," he whispered.

I arched an eyebrow, suddenly uncomfortable because his thigh was pushing against mine.

I slipped a pen from my purse out of sight of the others and jabbed his thigh.

He jumped, cussing loudly, but when the others glanced his way, he said, "Caught my toe under the chair.

He wore steel-toed boots. Like I said, not the brightest light bulb.

When he settled again, he scooted his chair away. "If I'd known you swung that way," he muttered loudly, "I'd have suggested you take the seat next to Brown."

"Thanks for the suggestion," I said, picking up my drink and walking around the table, aware that all eyes in the bar were on me, and everyone was drawing the same conclusion.

I sat beside the Brown, giving her only a quick glance. I didn't want to assume a damn thing. "He always such a dick?" I muttered.

She laughed and held out her hand. "Ramona, and yeah, he thinks he's a stud because he has a badge."

"Cathy." I offered a smile along with my hand. "Glad it wasn't just me."

The officer on the other side of her shook his head. "Don't pay him any mind. He's the sheriff's nephew, and Horace knows good and well he's an idiot."

"We're a little light on the formalities here," Ramona said, eyeing my street clothes. "And they should have assigned you a sponsor—someone to show you the ropes."

"Really?"

"Sheriff probably didn't want to assign one of the married guys because their wives wouldn't like it. You're too pretty. And he couldn't assign Lonny, well, because he's—"

"An idiot."

We shared a grin. I liked the way her smile pulled up the corners of her eyes, slanting them, betraying a drop of Asian blood mixed with the glorious Creole that painted her skin a lovely dark cream.

"So, why didn't he give me you?" I said slowly, holding her gaze.

She blinked and a flush colored her cheeks. "He didn't want you to be offended."

I nodded my understanding. My instincts hadn't lied. "Can I request you?"

"There's not a lot you can't figure out for yourself," she said, stirring a fingertip in the top of her mixed drink.

"That mean you're not interested?" I asked under my breath, wanting to keep our conversation on the down low.

Her eyes widened, and her glance slid away.

I blew out a breath and looked away—into her friend's narrowed glare. I wondered if I'd had her figured all wrong and he was her boyfriend. Or maybe I'd just come on too strong. But I'm not the kind of girl to let a good thing slip away, not if I can help it.

I took another gulp of my beer, trying to figure out how to exit now that I'd shown my ass to everyone.

Chairs scraped. I glanced up to see the men rising, stretching out their arms, and sharing teasing jibes as they prepared to leave.

"Welcome to Canaan," the guy sitting beside Ramona said. He lifted a brow at Ramona, and paused, but she stayed seated. He left with the others.

"That wasn't at all obvious," she muttered.

I wrinkled my nose. "I know how to clear a room."

She gave a scoffing laugh. "It wasn't about your bad behavior. Jonesy was giving us time alone to get to know each other. He didn't think you'd want to out yourself your first damn day. It's a small town. And this is the Bible Belt."

"It worry you? Them knowing?"

"Only if it bothers you."

I smiled, relieved I hadn't blown it. "Fact is, I hoped I'd get a chance to talk to you alone. And I could give a shit less whether they're disappointed that I don't swing their way."

Ramona's lips pressed into thin line.

I couldn't tell if she was disapproving of my forwardness or trying to hide a smile.

She cleared her throat. "Most of them are pretty decent—so long as we're not in their face about it."

I nodded and sat back in my chair, crossing one jeans-clad leg over the other. "You dating anyone?"

"Around…" She shrugged. "No one special. You?"

"Same."

Shoving her drink away, she planted an elbow on the table and leaned closer. "Look, you're new. I don't jump in and out of bed with every available dyke just because there's too damn few of us here."

"And I'm not hitting on you because you're the only game in town. Besides, I didn't ask you to sleep with me."

She raised an eyebrow.

"Okay, I want to, but I'll give you a chance to know me first." Sensing I'd pushed her far enough, I rose, dropped folded bills on the table to tip the waitress and held out her chair as she rose, smiling but looking a little uncomfortable at the attention we drew.

We parted at the door, exchanging nods, and I headed home. Regrettably, alone.

* * *

Get ready to be MOONSTRUCK!

Yes, the cover is to die for! And the stories? Well, you'll get a chance to see for yourself. I'm working feverishly to get Moonstruck up on Amazon and Smashwords today! Be sure to check back here today. I'll post the links as soon as they're live! ~DD

Two sizzling tales by two very twisted sisters…

Heart of the Jaguar by Myla Jackson

When jaguar shifter Reme Denux stumbles into his ex-girlfriend's palm reading parlor in the French Quarter of New Orleans, he's fuzzy about how he got there. The last thing he remembered was a drink at a bar and having another man's dark, sensuous dream.

As soon as Reme enters her building, Sybille can sense the black magic haze hanging over the man she still loves. With the full moon on the rise, she has to do something to save him from a death-swapping hex or lose him forever. With the help of a voodoo priestess, Sybille and Reme weather the moon's supremacy and the soul-stealing storm, forging a bond of lust and love, neither has the strength to resist.

She's All That by Delilah Devlin

Librarian by day, Melanie Bradshaw, is driven to desperation by her torrid dreams. However, when she acts on her desires, things go horribly wrong and she witnesses the murder of an overly amorous lounge lizard. With the body disintegrating before her eyes, who's going to believe her?

When Detective Moses Brown gets the latest Full Moon case, he's hoping it's no more than another crazy looking for attention—until he meets the delectable librarian. Melanie took a walk on the wild side straight into vampire territory. They know her and now she's not safe. Until he can find out why, he's going to stick to her like glue. If his own attraction gets between him and his good intentions, he'll just grit his teeth and do his best to ignore it.

But pretty little Melanie has designs on his body. How's a brother to resist?

Do you want the left or the right side of the bed?

Already stripped to his briefs, Moses glanced at the bedroom door and grunted. The shower had stopped running. Maybe now he'd stop thinking about her being naked and wet and less than twenty feet away.

Despite her invitation, he was taking the couch in her small living room. She'd been scared and wanted someone, anyone trustworthy, close by. So long as the door remained open between them, she'd feel secure enough to sleep. He didn't dare read anything more into her word choice.

Glancing down at the wood tenting his underwear, he figured she'd be the only one getting any rest. From the moment he'd breathed in her fragrance, stood close enough to see the fine porcelain quality of her skin, and looked into her soft brown eyes, he'd been hard as a post.

He'd give anything for a few minutes alone in a soundproofed room to relieve the ache, but her apartment was small, the walls paper-thin. She'd know, and he didn't want her uncomfortable with him. Didn't want her to be afraid he'd made the suggestion of accompanying her home to get into her bed.

As soon as he'd followed her into her tiny apartment, she'd been nervous, her glance cutting to him and darting away. No doubt he looked like a bull in a china shop. Too large and intimidating for her to relax. He'd shooed her to the shower then, with gritted teeth, listened to the whispers of her clothing as she undressed in the other room.

Moses rubbed a hand over the top of his head and sat on the edge of the couch. His phone vibrated on the coffee table. He reached for it and flipped it open. "Dammit, Viper. What the hell's goin' on?"

Viper's chuckle was anything but amused. "I don't know how she ended up in the club, but the moment she came through the door, every one of Zachary's fledglings went on the alert. They knew her. You have to figure out how. And you have to lie low. Keep her caged. They'll be hunting."

"Did you have to dust the dude right in front of her? She's freaked." His chest pinched. "And I don't know how much to tell her."

"That's up to you." A loud yawn sounded through the receiver. "Have to talk later—after I talk to another of Zachary's boys. 'S dawn. If it's just vampires, you'll be safe until dusk. Later."

Moses grunted again and set aside the phone, then turned and stretched out on the couch.

The door creaked, footsteps padded his way. He flipped the sheet she'd given him and covered his hips, then leaned up on an elbow to peer over the couch.

She hovered near the doorway, a thin nightgown draping her slender curves. "I just wanted to make sure you'd be all right. On the couch." Her teeth bit into her bottom lip. Her eyebrows drew together.

She didn't look worried, but rather annoyed. Moses gave her a faint grin. "It's a little short. The couch, I mean."

"I could sleep here. You can have the bed."

He shook his head, knowing he'd be in hell sleeping in sheets drenched with her feminine scent. "Get some shut-eye, Melanie. You're safe."

She remained in the doorway, her expression awash with indecision. "Why are you doing this?"

"I'm one of the good guys," he murmured, wanting her to relax. Needing her to move inside her bedroom so he could relax.

She came closer, hovering beside the couch.

Her expression was fluid, gliding from anxious to something he was afraid to read too much into. Cursing himself for being a horn-dog, he dropped his legs to the floor and sat up, careful to keep the sheet masking his hard-on. "Sit."

"Okay." Melanie came around the couch and hesitated over the space he'd made, then instead of sitting beside him, eased over his lap.

Moses held his breath, his hands clenching the edge of the sofa. "Melanie, what're you doin'?"

Her hands clutched together in her lap; she didn't meet his gaze. "I'm sorry. I don't have anyone else."

She sat square on his erection, crowding it down against his thigh. Not something she could miss, but she wasn't shying away.

All she wants is comfort, he reminded himself. "Well, hell," he muttered and raised his arms to enfold her. He sat back, taking her with him, letting her curves settle against his chest.

"You want me," she said, bluntly.

Moses rolled his eyes. "Yeah, and how do you know that?"

She snuggled closer to his chest, wriggling her soft ass against his growing erection. "Do you really need me to answer that?" she asked. Before he could respond, she continued, "And… you're very nice."

"I'm not," he said, starting to sweat as her bottom shifted again. He wished he could clutch her hips and hold her still, but the thin fabric of her nightgown was hardly any barrier at all. "Don't kid yourself."

"I wouldn't mind," she whispered, her face nuzzling into his neck before she tilted back her head to meet his gaze.

"Mind what?" he asked, lungs tightening.

"Sharing a bed." She ground down against his cock. "Taking care of this. I owe you."

"You don't owe me a damn thing." But he wasn't shoving her off his lap either, was he?

"I was looking for a hook-up," she whispered, swallowing before looking away. "It's why I went to the bar."

A hook-up. With a stranger. His stomach tightened. Why that bothered him so much wasn't something he wanted to examine too closely.

The fact that she looked away, briefly, was telling. As much as he wanted to fuck her, he wasn't about to take advantage of the fact that, obviously, she was scared and embarrassed. His hand caressed her back. "Why don't you have a boyfriend? You're pretty. Plenty sexy. You shouldn't have to resort to having sex with a stranger."

"I haven't lived here all that long. I haven't met anyone. I work in a library with a bunch of women." She raised her head, cupped the side of his face with her palm, and swiped a thumb over his bottom lip. "I've wanted to feel this mouth on my skin since I first saw you."

Moses growled deep in his throat. But he shook his head, striving for sanity, for safety, one last time. Last thing he needed was to get mixed up with her. Mixed up with anyone. He walked in a dark, dangerous world. The darkness clung to him like dirt. Sometimes, it followed him home.

Even though it killed him, he said, "I'm not what you want, sweetheart."

"Look, truth of the matter is, I'm scared as hell. Freaked out, really." Her fingers tightened into a ball on his chest. "And I know what I want… what I need," she said swallowing hard, "is dick."

Moses blinked, not believing what just came out of her sweet mouth.

She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. Her expressive eyes held a militant gleam. "Do a girl a favor. I need to be fucked. Long and hard. And I think you have exactly what I need."

"Damn girl," he whispered, his cock twitching its own halleluiahs.

"I want sex. Nothing more. No strings. Promise."

Taking a deep breath to still his excitement, he tried one last time to do the right thing. "If all you want is to be held while you sleep…"

She leaned away and began to smile. A cat-like grin that said she knew she had him. She climbed off his lap, then crawled over him again, this time spreading her thighs over his lap. "I'm not sleepy. For days, I've had the most lurid, raunchy dreams—every time I close my eyes. It's why I couldn't stand it one night longer. I need this. I need you. Right now, Detective Brown."

With her steamy center bearing down, grinding against his covered shaft, he gave up. He let her move against him, watched her eyelids fall, her sweet mouth open as she moaned and dragged her pussy forward and back along his shaft. He dragged away the sheet from between them. Only her thin panties and his briefs were between them now. Both were wet.

His hands cupped her butt and he lunged up, long strides taking him to her door, right toward her bed. Her clothes lay in a puddle beside it, the necklace she'd worn dropped carelessly in the center. He stepped over the mound, then he leaned over the mattress and crawled to the center on his knees, one hand still clutching her soft bottom, keeping her hot pussy pressed tight against him.

When he knelt in the middle of her soft bed, he bent, depositing her there. Her hands clutched the hem of her nightgown, and she wriggled to pull it over her head. He shoved down his briefs, getting them to his knees, before she took over, her cheek sliding against his abdomen, making the muscles jump, as she reached to push the shorts off his legs. Her mouth pressed a kiss against the tip of his hard cock, but he shoved her back, too aroused, too desperate to be nice now.

Not that she seemed to mind. The corners of her sweet mouth lifted in a siren's smile, as she laid her arms on the bed, and stretched out at her sides. He tucked his fingers under the waist band of her panties and tugged them off. Then she slid her heels up to bend her knees and parted her thighs.

As he looked at her sex, red and glistening, his balls drew tight against his groin. "Ever had a brother?" he rasped.

"Think I can't take you?"

"Last chance." He arched a brow. "I'm not little."

Her laughter was soft and husky, sexy as hell. Her fingers wrapped around his shaft and squeezed before falling away.

Well, he'd given her an out. If she wasn't worried, he wouldn't be either.

Leaning over her, his cock tapped her center once, then pushed inside. She was small, tight, but so fucking hot he couldn't be gentle, not now. He tunneled deep, groaning as he worked his way inside her, slick heat surrounding him every inch of the way.

Even as tiny, as slender as she was, she took him. Without hesitation or complaint, her throaty cries punctuating the air, hips churning to urge him deeper still.

"Lord have mercy," he moaned. "Hold still. Just a minute," he said, gasping.

Her nails dug into his ass. "Don't stop. Not now. Detective Brown, move!"

Moses tried to hold back. Reached deep for control, but she was touching him, raking his skin with her nails, undulating so sweetly, so urgently, her pussy tightening all around him, gripping him, squeezing him with feminine contractions that rippled up and down his shaft.

And already, she was coming. And hard. Her head digging into the mattress, her mouth stretched wide. A choked scream ripped from her throat.

He caved, hammering her, pounding so deep, so hard, the bed jerked and scraped on the hardwood floor, the headboard thudding against the wall with each powerful surge of his hips. Only Sidney had ever been able to withstand his full-on assaults. But this little woman, this tiny, fragile thing, writhing like a wild animal trapped beneath him, was taking it, taking all of him. "Sweet Jesus…fuck…Oh, goddamn," he said, as his balls exploded, streams of cum shooting through his cock, filling her until he was sliding, churning in liquid so hot and thick he kept right on rocking, unwilling to end the sweet, wet pleasure.

But at last, his strength gave and he sank against her body, rested his chest against her quivering breasts. Her legs and arms were wrapped tightly around him, her face snug in the curve of his neck. When her mouth glided in the sweat coating his skin, he realized with a start, he'd fucked her without ever kissing her, without ever touching her intimately. He'd crawled right over her and fucked her like a whore.

He felt like an ass.

Ashamed, Moses, buried his head in the bedding. Her hands made long slow glides up his sides, over his back, soothing him. Dragging in deep gulps of air, he raised his head and pushed up on his hands to take his weight.

Her features were soft, skin dewy and pink. Her eyes blinked sleepily and a smile spread slowly across her face. "Thank you."

Disgust, at himself, had him curling his lips. "Don't. That was… a huge fucking mistake."

Her smile faded and her brows drew together. "Because you've already got someone?"

"Because I'm a cop. And I'm supposed to be protecting you."

"I asked for this. I needed it. And it was…good."

Moses growled, irked now. Good? That's all she had to say about sex that had his body still shaking in the aftermath? He gritted his teeth and pulled out of her silky heat, then climbed off her and rolled to his back at her side.

"Name's Moses. I'll sleep on the left."

Melanie shot Moses a glance, but he wasn't looking her way. His forearm covered his eyes. But she wasn't fooled. He'd been into it. Deep into her. Maybe he didn't like the fact she'd come onto him. Maybe he was the kind of guy who liked to make the first move. Or maybe, he really was disappointed in himself that he'd let down his guard.

However, she didn't believe for even a moment that he hadn't felt as pulled, as compelled, to mate as she had. The sex had been raw, hard and fast. Far too urgent for him not to have felt how special the coupling was. He'd rivaled the dark fantasies swirling in her dreams.

For now, however, she'd let him have his sulk. She had a few things to figure out anyway. Least of which was why she felt such a strong attraction to a man she'd just met—beyond the biological urges that had led her into trouble in the first place.

In the meantime, he wasn't going anywhere, and she felt safe with his large body sprawled beside hers. Safe, at last. Even if he was sulking.

Her lips twitched, a grin tugging, wanting to stretch, but she suppressed the urge, sure that if he peeked her way, he'd be in a real huff.

Instead, she gave a little sigh, rolled to her side, toward him, and tucked her body close, ignoring the way he stiffened for a moment before his hand curved over the back of her head and held her closer.

Never had she felt like this. Thrilled to her toes, but wrapped in warmth, cozy and safe. She closed her eyes, rested a hand over the dull thud of his heart and drifted into sleep.

It started again, even before she sank deep into the dream. Part of her aware she stroked his skin. Part of her floating away, drifting toward the ceiling, gazing down curiously at the couple entwined on her bed.

As she watched, Moses's features grew lax in sleep. His legs twitched. The length of his cock, still drying in the air, lay curled against his thick thigh.

Her attention snagged on his sex.

Freed by her dream, she swooped toward the bed then paused to hover over the couple, suspended. She glanced toward the woman—the other her. The body nestled against his side disappeared in a slow fade.

Snippet Saturday: Handy Men

This is a brand new story! And since I will be flying to LA this next week, I wanted to give you a preview of what's coming. Handy Men releases next Wednesday.

Two very handy men mend a divorcée's broken heart…

Rather than cry over spilt milk, a newly divorced woman throws caution to the wind and decides to seduce her neighbor's handsome handy man.

Jeff isn't stupid—Pamela tossed those screws into her sink to get his attention! The fact she's beautiful and vulnerable convinces him she needs "special" attention. When he has her hot and horny, he surprises her with his partner Casey and a threesome.

What starts for Pamela as a wild, no-holds-barred fling quickly gets stickier as the guys push for something longer lasting.

The impulse came like a flash of lightning—hot and searing—all the way to the bone. An idea born of a need she hadn't felt in a long, long time…and inspired by one red-hot handyman in butt-hugging jeans and a t-shirt.

The man fired the militant gleam in her eyes as she brushed bronzing powder across her cheeks and swiped carmine "eat me" red lip stain across her mouth. She didn't give herself time to rethink the decision, reaching for the phone before her usual, cautious self reasserted control. No more couch potato cry-ins for her. No more self-imposed exclusion while she figured out what to do with the rest of her life. Today, a new Pamela Dwyer was reaching for the damn gusto.

The anger felt good. Especially after the shock she'd received moments ago when she'd surfed the web for the latest gossip about her ex.

One glance at Andrew's Facebook page, and Pamela's confusion over what the hell had happened to her life dried up. He'd blocked her from his page, but his profile picture had been changed from Andrew's handsome, craggy face to the soft innocence of his newborn son's.

The picture said it all. And no doubt every one of their friends here in Austin, who'd rallied around her when he'd left, would now pour out their congratulations to him while privately agreeing he'd done the only thing he could do to be happy.

Tears had stung her eyes, but she'd refused to let them fall. Instead, she'd blinked them away, closed out the screen and glanced through the blinds at her immaculate lawn. The perfect lawn and landscaping to surround the perfectly appointed house she'd won in the divorce settlement.

But back to that lightning strike…

Across the street, a man had stood atop a ladder while he fished leaves from old Mr. Johnson's gutters. It wasn't the fact the old man had spent money to hire someone to do odd jobs around his place that caught her attention, although that was plenty unusual all by itself. It was the way the sunlight glinted on the younger man's hair. Glints of gold she could see from over thirty feet away. And once her attention was snagged by that nagging glow, her gaze couldn't help but trail down the long, lean, buff lines of his healthy frame.

From the back, the man was perfection. Then he'd turned to the side, no doubt to say something to Mr. Johnson who hovered at the bottom of the ladder. The old skinflint would supervise the handyman to make sure he got every nickel's worth of his money. However, not a hint of irritation shone in the handyman's expression. His smile had been quick—a flash of white teeth against a tanned face.

Pamela had breathed deeply, enjoying the surge of heat flowing through her veins. So much better than the cold, hollow feeling in her womb. Arousal had bloomed, fresh and unexpected, washing over her, lapping away the disappointment. Leaving her…expectant. Feeling younger than her thirty-eight years.

There were times in a woman's life when she had to grab the bull by the horns or she'd never taste passion again. Pamela decided then and there that her time was now.

Twenty minutes later, the doorbell chimed.

Christ, do I really have the guts? She'd had twenty minutes to get icy-cold feet.

She held her hand in front of her face and blew against her palm then sniffed. Mouthwash still works.

Before opening her door, Pamela bent over, shook her head then straightened, giving her straight blonde hair an extra fluff. She pasted on a smile—not too wide or eager—one she'd practiced in front of the bathroom mirror to make sure it reflected just the right amount of casual interest. She didn't want to scare him away. At least not before she had a chance to practice being a femme fatale.

However, after opening the door, her smile faltered just a bit. Up close, the repairman was more of a rangy lion than a bull, and even more attractive than her secretive glances through the blinds had revealed. Thickly muscled arms and a broad chest stretching a green Handy Men tee filled her vision.

Maybe she should have targeted someone more in her league—and at least fifteen years older. However, when she'd seen him working on the rain gutters of her neighbor's house, watched the way he moved gracefully up and down the ladder, a plan had begun to form. One she was too invested in to back out of now.

"Your neighbor said you were havin' trouble with a garbage disposal?"

Her greedy glance shot up to meet his, and she noted the crinkles of amusement at the sides of his eyes. Blue eyes with golden coronas around the pupils. Yum.

Realizing her mouth hung open, she snapped her jaw closed. "Uh, yes. Trouble with the disposal. That's why you're here."

It was the truth, so she didn't stutter over it. However, she didn't mention she'd thrown a handful of screws into the sink to make sure the old disposal seized. Her plan to lure him into her house was working like a charm. She wished her ex could see her now. Plain Pam, reliable Pam, boring, defective Pam had a few tricks left.

"I'm Jeff McCaffrey," he said, and held out his hand.

Blowing out a little breath to release her tension, she gave him her hand and shook. "Pamela," she said quickly.

His palms were calloused and large. She slid her hand slowly from his, enjoying the scrape. Even if things didn't work out, she'd have plenty of sensory details to savor later to go along with the lovely picture he made.

"Um…" He lifted the toolbox with a flex of impressive biceps and raised his eyebrows.

It took a second to register that he needed her to move away from the door. Feeling flustered, she stood back and waved him inside. She closed the door behind him and followed eagerly on his heels into the hallway.

He halted abruptly.

Unable to stop her forward momentum, Pamela held out her hands to brace herself—and cupped his ass.

His head swiveled to glance back at her, a slight, dazed smile curving his mouth.

She paused a second too long before removing them, but his ass was too much temptation. "Sorry about that," she muttered, palms and face burning. Lord, she was thirty-eight, and he had her blushing like a teenager. Her flirting skills were woefully rusty.

He cleared his throat and pointed toward the door on the left. "The kitchen?"

"Yeah," she said, sounding a little winded, but her fingers tingled and her skin felt on fire. She hadn't wanted to come on to the younger man like a cougar in heat, but he was fine-fine-fine.

He swung open the door and walked to the counter, setting his toolbox beside the sink. "What sort of noises was it makin'?"

"Crunchy?"

"Crunchy?" His lips twitched.

She shrugged. He was the "Mr. Fix-It". He'd figure out soon enough what the problem was. Maybe he'd think the screws in the disposal had gotten there by accident.

He reached beneath the cabinet next to the sink and flipped the switch. Metallic grating made her wince. The poor thing ground worse than her ex's teeth.

Without looking back, he said, "Don't touch the switch. I don't have my tongs, so I'm gonna stick my hand down there to see what's happenin'."

In his hand went, and he turned slightly to the side, his gaze meeting hers while a frown drew his honey-brown brows together. When he pulled free, he held a screw. "Wonder how that happened?" he drawled.

She grinned brightly. "Serendipity?"

"Wha—?"

So maybe not a brain surgeon, but the calculated stare he returned told her he wasn't stupid. He pulled out another and laid it on the countertop, and then another. "Somethin' you wanna tell me, Pamela?"

She held her breath, ready to blurt the truth, but then she'd sound exactly like what she was—a woman desperate for a man's attention. Instead, she pouted. "You're not my doctor. I don't have to tell you the truth." Then she shrugged, overwhelmed by the urge to blurt something cute. "I needed a screw."

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

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

Selena Blake

Leah Braemel

Mari Carr

Taige Crenshaw

Lauren Dane

HelenKay Dimon

McKenna Jeffries

Lissa Matthews

TJ Michaels

Emma Petersen

Shelli Stevens

Jody Wallace

Drastically Reduced Prices

First! Thank you to everyone who bid on my two auction items during Operation Auction in support of Fatin and her family! My bootcamp+ sold for $202.50 and the totebag of books went for $122.50! Congratulations to the winners!

Now, doesn't the title of this post sound like one of those Ginsu knives commercials?! What's this all about? Ellora's Cave is running a sale. For a limited time only, you can purchase books from the ten authors listed on this ad at online bookstores like Kindle and B&N for a greatly reduced price. The list of my particular titles affected by this sale is at the bottom of this post!

A Long Howl Good Night – $4.45

Bad, Bad Girlfriend – $4.45

First Knight – $4.45

Fun With Dick and Jayne – $4.45

Jane's Wild Weekend – $4.45

Knight of My Dreams – $4.45

Lockdown – $4.45

Raw Silk – $5.20

Ride a Cowboy – $4.45

Silver Bullet – $5.20

Sin's Gift – $4.45

Warlord's Destiny – $4.45

Handy Men (coming April 6) – $2.49

March Wrap-up

March was even better than February!

The high points of the month were:

* I revised and submitted a Quickie to Ellora's Cave! HANDY MEN will release on April 6th!

* I wrote and submitted a BDSM novella to Ellora's Cave! BEGGING FOR IT was accepted and contracted! I'll let you know as soon as I have a release date.

* I wrote and posted the latest installment of my free, serialized story, BAD MOON RISING! Be sure to check out my "Extras" page.

* I revised and expanded a previously published short story into a short novella. As soon as I have edits back, I will get moving on the process of self-publishing HER SOUL TO KEEP, along with a story from my sister, Myla Jackson.

* I wrote and posted a short story at Everything Erotic.

* I attended the NOLA Reaching for the Stars conference.

In April, I hope to accomplish the following:

* Write the sequel to TRUE HEART for Samhain.

* Write a lesbian novella for another EC anthology.

* Attend the Romantic Times convention in LA!

Two Reminders & Official Release!

I have two reminders before we get to the guts of today's entry! ~DD

Last Day of Auction to Support Fatin!

For Readers: A tote back with the reader's choice of three signed print books, an Amazon gift card for $25.00, and various promo gifts from Delilah Devlin. Delilah does ship internationally! Bid Here

For Writers: Co-founder of RosesColoredGlasses.com and multi-published author, Delilah Devlin offers a one-on-one plotting bootcamp, with critique of the partial, when written, plus a second critique after revisions. The writer may work at his or her own pace. Bid Here

Four Sworn needs your vote! Deadline March 31st!

Four Sworn has been nominated for Best Erotic Romance (Non-Traditional Lifestyle) in 2010!

But it needs your vote to win! Here's the link to the page. Be sure to check out the list of all the nominees in all their wonderful categories, then go vote for Delilah's!

The Romance Reviews Voting Page

Blog Tour Kickoff!

What is it about lesbian cops that pushes all the right buttons? It's not just the uniform, with handcuffs and weapons, or the confidence, authority, and sense of danger. There's something more as well, an irresistible force that these writers have channeled into fiercely erotic stories of policewomen in or out of uniform, on patrol or undercover, in charge or in need of healing, on the case or under the sheets.

The action can be gut-level tough, as in Jove Belle's "Hollis" where anti-terrorism boot camp surges over the inevitable edge into BDSM, or heart-wrenching as in Evan Mora's "A Cop's Wife" when death threats sharpen the need for life-affirming sex to a keen edge, or quirky as well as steamy while Teresa Noelle Roberts's cop finds a way to maintain respect for her own "Dress Uniform" while indulging her anime-girl lover's cos-play kink. Delilah Devlin, Andrea Dale, R. G. Emanuelle, Cheyenne Blue, and all the other contributors offer their own sizzling visions of the complexity and depth, the strength and vulnerability, and above all the commanding, overwhelming sex appeal of Lesbian Cops.

The editor of the compilation, Sacchi Green, kicks off a blog tour today! You can check out her schedule and click on the first link to an interview with Sacchi! Sacchi's Blog

Guest Blogger: Meg Benjamin

Meg's blog is below, but I have an important message to share first! Operation Auction, in support of Fatin and her family, is still ongoing, but the chance to win my offerings ends later today. I have two things you might be interested in bidding for! ~DD

For Readers: A tote back with the reader's choice of three signed print books, an Amazon gift card for $25.00, and various promo gifts from Delilah Devlin. Delilah does ship internationally! Bid Here

For Writers: Co-founder of RosesColoredGlasses.com and multi-published author, Delilah Devlin offers a one-on-one plotting bootcamp, with critique of the partial, when written, plus a second critique after revisions. The writer may work at his or her own pace. Bid Here

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

Next month I'm traveling to Los Angeles to attend my first Romantic Times convention. This is, frankly, a Very Big Deal. RT draws both writers and readers, unlike some other writing conferences that are mainly devoted to writers. At RT you can expect to meet and talk to people who might actually buy your books instead of trying to find out how to meet your editor or your agent. And because I'm going to be meeting readers, I needed to pick up some promotional materials, "promo" for short.

This was a hot topic among the Nine Naughty Novelists, seven of whom are attending the convention. What would we bring? The possibilities were endless: pens, magnets, Post-its, keychains, bubble blowers, chocolates, etc., etc., etc. At first I didn't even want to think about it, but one morning I came across the only piece of promo I'd ever hung onto for any length of time: a bar of sandalwood-scented soap.

Soap became my first promo item. I found a site online where I could buy small bars for not a whole lot of money. I found another site that sold organza bags for ditto. I chose a scent (cherry almond) that seemed unlikely to make people think it was edible (as opposed to, say, chocolate mint). I printed up cards to go in each bag with my name, Web site, and last two book titles. And I spent a couple of evenings in front of the television stuffing soap into bags (at least my hands smelled great).

Okay, all well and good. And then somebody on one of my discussion loops mentioned book thongs. Book thongs? When I Googled them, I found directions for making what amounted to a beaded bookmark using waxed linen thread. Seemed easy enough, so I hied myself off to Michaels and bought a few supplies. Little did I know. It turns out I have a great affinity for bright shiny things (sort of like a magpie) and a hitherto unknown fascination with stringing beads. The book thongs took over my life. I bought a large jar of miscellaneous beads at an antique mall. I started checking the Sunday ads for bead specials at Michaels and Hobby Lobby. I bought a stamp with my name so that I could attach a label to each thong to identify me. To date I've made about a hundred of these suckers, and I may reach over a hundred by the time I head to LA. If nobody wants them, I'm going to have enough stocking stuffers for the rest of my life.

If you're a good businesswoman, you're supposed to keep careful track of how much you spend on promo each year so that you don't exceed a particular percentage of your profits. One of these days, I'll probably sit down and add everything up. But to tell you the truth, I'm a little afraid of doing that—I have a sneaking suspicion that the total is going to be really depressing. Still, I found a new hobby and my house will probably smell like cherry almond for a while.

In the meantime, anybody want a book thong?

Guest Blogger: Lucy Felthouse

Yum! Of course, the title caught me, and then that hint of nipple. What can I say? I'm so easy! Had to invite Lucy here. She appears in this volume! ~DD

Our readers asked for it, and now we're pleased to present Volume II of first-time lesbian encounters inspired by Katy Perry's hit song! Seven returning authors continue to arouse, plus six new authors will not disappoint.

This diverse collection travels the globe and the ages. No two settings or circumstances are alike, proving that women from every walk of life and culture are curious and eager to explore their full sexuality…with each other.

Buy links:

Ravenous Romance

All Romance Books

Info about Lucy:

Lucy is a graduate of the University of Derby, where she studied Creative Writing. During her first year, she was dared to write an erotic story – so she did. It went down a storm and she's never looked back. Lucy has had stories published by Cleis Press, Noble Romance, Ravenous Romance and Xcite Books. She is also the editor of Uniform Behaviour – Steamy Stories About Men and Women in Uniform. Find out more at http://www.lucyfelthouse.co.uk.