Delilah Devlin's Blog, page 533

April Wrap-Up

April was a not a good month. I fell ill the moment I stepped off the plane in LA where I went to attend the Romantic Times convention early in the month. I still have a lingering cough and suffer fatigue. Then there were the storms. One after another—thunderstorms accompanied by tornado watches and power outages. Three very big and frightening storms.

There were some high points.

* MOONSTRUCK and HANDY MEN released!

* My proposal for a collection of lesbian shapeshifter stories, BEASTLY BABES, was accepted by Cleis Press!

* HER SOUL TO KEEP was revised and is being formatted for publication as I am writing this. So, at least something was accomplished!

* And of course, I attended the RT convention in LA.

In May, I hope to get back into the swing of things and accomplish the following:

* Write the next LONE STAR LOVERS story for Samhain.

* Write a lesbian novella for an EC anthology.

* Write the next chapter of BAD MOON RISING—that's my free, serialized panther-shifter story.

* And lastly, if I can ramp up quickly enough, write a short story for submission to Harlequin as a Nocturne Bite.

Send good wishes. I'll need them!

One Day to The Warrior's Touch!

Remember, the Promo Whore and Queen of the Kitchen contests continue!

See details in Tuesday's post! Post a comment here to win!

The Promo Whore contest ends tomorrow!

It's a Nocturne, so you know there has to be some danger, action, and magic! Here's another little taste. And remember, tomorrow's the day it releases—pre-order now!

* * * * *

Caleb rode, only part of his attention on the road and his surroundings. His focus was on the wisps of green light ahead of him. A horse. A rider. In the center of the road. Then suddenly, the pair veered off the path, toward the ridge above.

Not bothering to signal Fari, because she was right on his horse's tail, Caleb reined right, leaned low over his mount's neck and flew up the slope. Near the top were boulders and a stand of conifers. The ghostly green shadow weaved among the trees, although he appeared to be slowing down, because his outline was sharper, the green color more brilliant.

Caleb held up a fist to warn Fari, and slowed his roan.

The trees were thicker here, the darkness pressing around them. The rider ahead of them dismounted.

Caleb did the same. He listened for the sounds of Fari following, but kept his gaze ahead, peering into the darkness.

So many places to hide. His heart thudded. His breathing deepened as he focused. If the Centaurian knew he was being followed, he might strike out. The only way to keep Fari safe was to meet him first.

Caleb tied his horse to a branch, glanced around for Fari and motioned again for her to stay behind him. Then he took off through the trees.

His footsteps crunched on the pine needles, but there was no point in being quiet. They didn't have time. If the Centaurian reached his headband, they would fail.

Ahead, he caught sight of another wisp, then a darker, blacker shadow. The figure bent near the base of a tall tree that leaned at a slant, half uprooted.

Caleb stalked closer, careful to muffle his footfalls now.

But the Centaurian stiffened, glancing over his shoulder.

Before he could reach the belt glinting beside him, Caleb leaped, taking the alien to the ground.

Immediately, Caleb knew he was in trouble. His opponent was preternaturally powerful, and without the impediment of a weakened shoulder.

Caleb plunged his fist into the alien's side while wrapping his injured arm around the Centaurian's body to hold him. "Fari," he gasped. "Get the belt and jump!"

"Got it!"

The Centaur roared, slammed his fist into Caleb's shoulder and leaped off him to run after Fari.

Caleb saw stars for a moment, then shook his head and lunged to his feet.

He heard hoofbeats in the distance, knew Fari had gotten to her horse to lead the Centaurian away from him. "Dammit, this is no time to be a hero, woman!"

Caleb ran for his own mount and swung up, then kicked it into a gallop, following the traces of the two figures ahead of him. They were weaving through the trees toward a clearing that dropped away sharply to the sea.

In the moonlight now, he watched Fari zigzag left and right, then pull hard on her reins to head toward the cliff. The Centaurian was gaining on her.

Suddenly, the ground in front of both riders fell away, the cliff wall crumbling.

Caleb knew it was a flare. But so did the Centaurian. However, both horses balked, shying to the side, backs arching, bucking in revolt.

Fari held tight to her mount's reins, her expression focused as she threw another flare.

Caleb's heart stopped for a beat as he saw a huge, golden gryphon diving toward the Centaurian's horse, wings extended and flapping. It dipped toward the animal, claws outstretched, then pulled up sharply, only to dive again.

The Centaurian's horse bucked harder, twisting and jouncing the rider on its back. The alien roared again, his head thrown back in rage.

Two Days to The Warrior's Touch!

Remember, the Promo Whore and Queen of the Kitchen contests continue!

See details in Tuesday's post!

So I know that no one's gonna be checking out this blog today—not with all the hoopla going on the TV. I taped THE WEDDING to watch when I go to bed tonight. So don't tell me what I missed!

In The Warrior's Touch, both the hero and heroine have specialized psychic powers. Here's a little taste.

* * * * *

She blew out a breath. "Dinner's over. Most everyone's settling in for the night. We might take a look around."

"And if we're caught?"

"I'll think of something."

"Do you know where the queen's chambers are?"

Fari nodded in crisp assent. "She's above stairs. Only those closest to her are allowed up there."

"Heavily guarded?"

"Hippolyta has guards inside her chamber with her and Theseus. She may be besotted with the man, but she doesn't trust him."

"That's where you think the belt is?"

Fari nodded again. "It's that or the temple, but she doesn't seem like the kind to hand power over to anyone. She'd want to keep it close."

"Did you hear any mention of it at dinner?"

"No, and I didn't ask. First night here and I didn't want anyone suspecting I was after anything other than to serve my queen."

Caleb leaned back on his hands and studied Fari's expression. "You're enjoying this."

She seemed caught off guard by the comment, but shrugged. "And why wouldn't I? I'm going to train with the Amazons. The only militaristic culture in history to prize female warriors above their men."

"Just don't lose sight of the mission," Caleb said quietly. "Or lose that cuff and decide to go native."

One elegantly shaped eyebrow arched. "Babe, I'm all about the mission."

He chuckled. "So, shall we do some scouting?" He pushed himself off the bed and opened the door. Together they slipped into the hallway.

The palace, so far as he could see, wasn't much of a castle as he'd always pictured them. Certainly nothing like Sadam's gold-and-marble palaces in Iraq, which Caleb had visited while assigned in the region.

The wood-framed building had plastered, whitewashed walls. Murals covered the larger ones, and built-in niches displayed small sculptures of gods. Mini shrines, as far as he could tell.

They backtracked through the hall, which servants, male and female, were currently putting to rights. A Greek man brushed past them, weaving on his feet.

"So how'd you manage it?" Caleb asked softly.

Fari raised her chin, pride glowing in her eyes. "I showed my stuff."

"Stuff?"

"A little kung fu."

"Not exactly true to the era," he murmured.

She lifted one shoulder. "But effective. Told the queen that Mongols from the East taught me the moves. She's impressed. Wants me to instruct her guards in hand-to-hand."

"Is that wise?"

"I won't teach them anything too identifiable. Can't have embroidered cloths showing up in the kurgans with Amazons in kung fu stances. Let's head to the second floor."

At the bottom of the stairs, he paused. "So what's your plan if we're seen?"

She climbed up the first step and tilted her head. "Who says anyone will see us?"

Caleb narrowed his glance. "What exactly is your talent? General Ashton mentioned that you flare? What's that?"

"It's best to show you what I can do, Caleb. Somehow I don't think you believe anything unless you experience it for yourself. Am I right?"

He gave a grunt, figuring that his psychological profile must have been among the documents she'd reviewed. He ignored an inward wince at what else she might have learned about him. While he'd found many high value targets, his commanders weren't always happy about the personal risks he took. Still, results trumped caution. Or they had until he'd walked into an ambush and gotten the soldier on point killed and himself seriously wounded.

Following her up the steps, he said, "You wondering why I refused the cure, too?"

At the top, she turned to face him. "Unless you're into pain, I don't get why you wouldn't take advantage of Professor Carswell's offer."

Caleb's face tightened. It wasn't something he liked talking about. "Seemed like cheating. Taking the easy way out."

"Because someone else died during that mission?" she asked, her expression softening.

Caleb shook his head. "Didn't feel right," he said, keeping his tone dead even, "erasing the injury from my body when someone else didn't walk away."

Fari touched his arm. "I get that," she whispered. "I do . Soldier long enough, we all lose friends."

Standing so close, breathing in her fresh scent, he felt the urge to bend toward her. "Yeah?" Before he could follow through on the inappropriate urge, footsteps approached, the steady stomp of someone marching. "Quick, we need to hide."

Fari's mouth curved. "I've got it handled, cowboy."

"How?"

She pressed him back against the wall, then flattened herself beside him. Suddenly, the corridor in front of them was blocked by a barrier. Although light from the torches on the opposite side shone through, he and Fari seemed to be wedged between the new wall and the old.

The female guard strode past, within inches of them, without slowing.

"What the…?" He reached up, to find his hand passing through the wall. "That's flaring?" he whispered.

"Yeah. I can hide you from sight, create a vision of something that isn't there. But if you make any noises, that wall doesn't do a bit of good."

"Could have warned me," he growled.

Her lips stretched into a grin. "And miss your expression?"

Three Days to The Warrior's Touch!

Remember, the Promo Whore and Queen of the Kitchen contests continue!

See details in Tuesday's post!

Okay, so maybe my upcoming release is not as exciting as watching the news today. The storm that swept through here the night before, downing a tree in our back yard, really gained momentum as it ripped through the states to the east of us. My hearts go out to the folks in its path. Here's a picture of the hackberry tree that fell across our fence behind the house. The picture doesn't do it justice. The tree's over 80 feet tall. That was our excitement. As soon as the sky turned green, we huddled in the basement and didn't hear a thing.

Back to the book. It's a time travel story, with soldiers sent into the distant past to retrieve part of an alien medallion that they believe is the center of the myth surrounding the Amazonian queen's magical belt. The mission gets complicated when Fari and Caleb can't ignore their growing attraction…

* * * * *

Caleb eased his back against the wall, eyeing the woman stretched on the cot. She hadn't been kidding about making him sleep on the floor. And although the room was hot and stuffy, heated by warm air running in channels beneath the wooden floor, she'd removed only her tunic. She'd kept the sleeveless, thigh-length shift in place and her pants tied with a serious knot. Did she really think all those layers would keep what was happening between them contained?

He raised a knee and wrapped an arm around it, watching her sleep. Or pretend to.

Her breaths were too even.

"Stop looking at me," she whispered.

"I can't sleep."

She groaned and turned toward him, sliding a hand beneath her cheek. Her eyes glittered in the moonlight spilling through the narrow window. "Floor that bad? As many years as you've been in the army, I'd have thought you could pretty much sleep anywhere."

"Not used to sleeping with women."

She chuckled, the sound warm and sexy.

He grunted at his own choice of words.

"You're not sleeping with a woman," she said slowly.

Caleb glanced away, his mouth twisting. "But I want to," he growled.

"That's the problem?" she said, amusement lightening her tone. "I thought you didn't like me."

"I like you plenty. That's the trouble. Don't want to worry about having to save your ass."

"Worry about your own."

"Can't help the way I'm made. Women are supposed to be protected."

She raised her head and leaned on an elbow. "How'd you manage to make it this long in the army without some female busting your chops about your chauvinism?"

"I'm not a chauvinist. Just a man. It's something hard-wired. And it doesn't help a bit that you're…tiny."

She sighed. "I'd tell you to get over it, but I'd be wasting my breath. Tell me the truth. Is your shoulder bothering you?"

The dull ache was so much a part of him now that he'd forgotten. But why had she asked? Was she looking for an excuse to let things move to the next level?

Caleb tried to rein in the excitement humming in his veins, but her position, propped on an elbow, exaggerated the deep indentation of her waist and the swell of her hip. Damn, he'd love to get closer.

He grunted, which Fari took as a yes. The closest the macho man would come to admitting he was human and hurting.

"Tell you what. There's room for both of us—if we sleep on our sides." She rolled to face the wall, and held her breath.

After a few moments, he moved tentatively onto the cot, sliding in behind her, his body pressed to hers. "Anything comes up, ignore it, ma'am."

She smiled in the darkness, liking the low rumble of his voice.

His hand settled on her waist, and his knees bumped the backs of hers as he gently forced them into a closer embrace.

"Don't go getting any ideas," she whispered breathlessly.

"Too late," he murmured, his breath gusting against her hair.

His face nuzzled her neck and his breathing deepened, then evened out.

Was he going to fall asleep that quickly? Because she was wide awake now. All her previous warnings to herself about keeping this strictly professional were losing their starch with tall, dark and brawny plastered to her backside .

"'S nice," he said sleepily.

Not the adjective she would have used. Not in a hundred years. She remembered the lazy slant of his eyes each time he'd challenged her.

Gradually, however, the warmth at her back, the feeling of complete safety, sheltered as she was in his arms, eased her toward sleep. Fari nestled closer, pushing her butt deeper against his groin and snuggling her head on the arm he'd slipped beneath her.

"Move again and I swear I won't be responsible," he muttered.

Her lips twitched. "Thought you were asleep."

"Maybe this isn't such a good idea."

She'd just gotten used to being up close and personal, and now he was the one with complaints? "I was only trying to be nice."

"You don't feel nice."

"Excuse me?"

"Rub that sweet butt against me one more time…" His hand tightened on her hip. "Babe, I'm holdin' on by a thread."

Something long and hard ground against her rear.

How had she missed that he was aroused? "I'm supposed to ignore that?"

Laughter gusted against her ear. And then her own body shook. Their laughter rose, and Fari turned in his arms to face him. "Looks like we've got a little problem."

"Nothin' little about it." His arms tensed, but didn't pull her any closer.

She knew he was fighting the urge to test her, to see whether she'd fold beneath the enforced intimacy. And if she was honest with herself, she'd have to admit she was tempted.

"This is strictly against protocol." She said the words, but even she could hear the breathy tremor in her voice.

"Who's gonna know?"

"You will. And tomorrow, you'll have that cat that licked the cream look." She shut her eyes, realizing how her words could be construed.

His chuckle vibrated against her. "Could I get that lucky?"

She didn't answer, but opened her eyes, meeting his steady gaze.

He didn't seem to expect an answer. He leaned toward her, and she angled her face to meet his kiss. It was surprisingly sweet, and over way too quickly.

"Stop me anytime now," he warned.

* * * * *

You can read the opening scene here: Time Raiders: The Warrior's Touch

Pre-order the book here: Buy Link

Guest Blogger: Carol Strickland

The Promo Whore and Queen of the Kitchen contests continue. Read yesterday's post for details! ~DD

The Ol' Kabong of Life

By Carol A Strickland

Golden Corral used to run a commercial in which a tiny chef-fairy would KABONNNNGGG!! people on the back of their heads with a huge, cast-iron skillet. This reminded them that they needed to partake of a meal at said restaurant. The commercial made me wonder if only those with brain injuries would want to eat there.

I experienced my own kabong, but it was a more spiritual if just as deeply vibratory experience. You see, I hit Mid-Life.

KABONNNNGGG!!

People joke about Mid-Life Crises. Oh, isn't it so silly when men have to have their red convertibles and mature women start to dress like teenagers in an effort to regain their youth? They're nuts!

Yeah, it's a laughing matter until it happens to you.

Well before my own crisis I'd taken courses at a psychic school—the kind where the classroom was in the house's basement next to the water heater, and the teacher assumed we could all detect the cosmic energies she spoke of. There we learned that Mid-Life Crisis occurs around age 42, give or take a year or two.

At that age, the planet Uranus (pronounced: "YOUR-uh-nus," not the "I've got a joke for you!" way) (my college professor explained that very carefully on our first day of astronomy class) has managed to half-complete an orbit so it stands opposite from where it was when you were born.

Uranus has to do with your life mission, what you were put on Earth to accomplish. When the planet faces its original position, it challenges your birth energy and reminds you of what is truly important. How does it do this?

With a big ol' cast iron skillet, administered to the base of your fortyish skull.

KABONNNNGGG!!

How did it affect me? First of all, I had one of the most vivid dreams I'd ever had, full of my favorite sexy superheroes, Capt. Picard and his Enterprise, and me saving the day by being your basic Mary Sue-type character.

That darned dream stuck. I'd go to work and be almost unable to function because I couldn't get it out of my head.

Finally, I said the heck with it, recalled that back in elementary school and college I'd written some fanfic, sat down with my (don't laugh) used Mac IIcx, and wrote a book.

Quickly enough I decided that this would be something that I might want to publish. Bye-bye, Capt. Picard. I rearranged my superheroes so they weren't the actual ones who appeared in the comics. (I always felt I could improve those guys anyway.) And most of all, I tried my darnedest to get rid of the Mary Sue aspects of my lead character, bless her too-perfect heart.

But Mid-Life Crisis affected me in other ways. I wanted to write more than this one book. I wanted to move. I wanted to change my name. One long week when I had writer's block an overwhelming urge hit me to paint a big patch of blue instead.

Ransacking the back of my closets, I discovered my old college art supplies (art major here), dragged out a canvas, and by gosh, painted it flat blue.

Whew. Amazingly, I could write again. But now I also wanted to renew my interest in painting.

If Mid-Life hasn't happened to you yet, it will. Don't even try to fight it. You will be kabonged and you'll never see it coming. It'll be time to sit down and reassess your direction in life. What's really important for you to do? What interests have you been ignoring that shouldn't be ignored?

As for me, I finished the book. It was about 1500 pages long, and holy moly, it was a romance! I didn't know anything about romance novels, so I joined Romance Writers of America. The book was split and reconstructed into five novels. The first volume, Touch of Danger (in which a psychic healer with a phobia meets the world's sexiest but much-too-strong superhero), was published by Ellora's Cave Blush. The second volume, Star-Crossed, will be out in a week or two (add three weeks if you try to find it on Amazon), and plans are to get the third volume out before the end of the year.

I now have an art business that is beginning to attract attention. That name change I wanted? Oy. That's an entire column unto itself, so let's just summarize and say that my non-legal new name was actually a much better name for the now non-Mary Sue character, so I gave it to her.

I did indeed move to the next town over. And it is true enough: every now and then I visit the Golden Corral. But I try to do it before that chef-fairy can brain me!

Who else here has been kabonged? What did you change in your life? Or did you stay the same? (Or do you know some folks who did pretty goofy things when they hit mid-life?) And who here is old enough to recognize the cartoon character who heads this column? There was so much kabonging that he decided to join the party.

—

Carol A. Strickland is a writer, artist and Wonder Woman expert. You can visit her website www.CarolAStrickland.com to learn about her books, artwork, and more than you'd ever want to know about the Amazing Amazon. There you will find book excerpts (page link: http://www.carolastrickland.com/ficti... ) and even a contest where you could win a free DVD! Her fantasy romance, Touch of Danger, and the historical romance, Burgundy and Lies, are available online in both e- and print form. Star-Crossed will be out soon.

Winner…and new contest(s)!

I had tons of entries for this one, mostly from Facebook. Woohoo! It appears you all love fairies, which is a good thing, since next week's prize features another lovely fairy gift!

I do have a winner for the journal, but she'll be named at the bottom of this post. In the meantime, I have TWO contests to announce.

One's more of a reminder. We'll start there.

Contest #1—or, the Promo Whore Contest

Myla and I would appreciate your help getting the word out about our two recent self-published books, Sex Ed and Moonstruck.

What we'd love you to do for us is:

1) Tag, Star, and "Like" wherever you buy the books!

2) Review it! Please, please, please!

3) Post the cover/blurb on your blog (Ask! One of us will send you a jpeg!)

4) Most importantly, BUY them!

For our contest, we're offering two $25 gift certificates to two lucky winners for the MOONSTRUCK blurbs and links, and a $25 gift certificate to one lucky winner for pimping SEX ED. So that's THREE winners—and a total of $75 up for grabs!

Te be entered, you have to send us a link to where you talked about the book, posted a review, posted the cover and the blurb—BY APRIL 30th!! And you can enter multiple times, so if you're smart, send a link for each individual posting to this address: Myla Jackson [mylajackson@earthlink.net]

Winners will be announced in Myla's and Delilah's May Newsletters!

Contest #2—Queen of the Kitchen Contest

I don't cook, but I saw these and had to buy them. It's a compulsion, I know. A mental disorder, I'm sure. But hey, you get the benefit of my illness!

I took lousy pictures, but these two pictures are of a set of measuring spoons. The handles are topped by a crown that says "Queen of the kitchen" and they have decorations all the way down. You can certainly put them to use, but you also might like to hang them from a hook in your kitchen for decoration. To win them, all you have to do is post a comment. As many as you like over the next week, on my blog and on facebook. Every entry increases your chance of winning!

Okay, back to the winner of the very pretty fairy journal… She's Betty Lewis! Betty, email me with your snail mail address. Congratulations!

Three books coming May 1st!

First, the genre poll is closed (see Thursday's post)! I might do one or two more polls to get some clarification of your favorite reads, but I'll be paying attention to what you told me. And today is the last day you have to enter the fairy journal contest (see last Tuesday's post)! The winner will be announced tomorrow! ~DD

In just a few days, three new books will be out—one a novella, the other two collections of erotic short stories. I thought I'd give you a chance to sample them, and if you wanted, put them on pre-order so you'll have them to enjoy as soon as possible.

You can pre-order this story today! Just click on the cover to head over the Amazon! I'll admit, I wasn't sure I could pull off a story that sends a couple back in time to meet the Amazons, but I surprised myself. I hope you enjoy it half as much as I did writing it! I'd love for this one to succeed so I can write more Bites!

Lieutenant Farideh Kalani expected her time-traveling assignment in ancient Scythia to be difficult, but fitting in with Amazon warriors is easy compared to being partnered with Sergeant First Class Caleb MacAvoy. The Texan soldier is infuriatingly smug and undeniably sexy. Then with one kiss, he awakens all Farideh's desires. Now she'll have to keep an eye on her mission and try to resist her attraction to Caleb. Because he's the one man who might be able to breach the walls she's built around her heart….

Read an excerpt from The Warrior's Touch

* * * * *

The same editor who brought you Fairy Tale Lust is at it again! For Dream Lover, I tried something I haven't done before—write about creatures from the sea. You'll have to judge whether it's a place I should go again.

Supernaturally sensual and captivating, Dream Lover is a feast of fanciful delights. Kristina Wright, editor of the popular Fairy Tale Lust presents a potent potion of fun and sexy tales filled with male fairies and clairvoyant scientists, as well as darkly erotica tales of ghosts, shapeshifters and possession. Dream Lover asks the reader to explore the realm of the otherworldly and answer the question… who is your dream lover?

Read an excerpt from my contribution, Dreaming by the Sea

* * * * *

This book's been on Amazon for a couple of weeks now, but May 1st is its official release date—the day you should be able to find it on your bookstore shelves. This one's erotica, very inventive erotica.

The rich and slightly decadent visuals of the steam age lend themselves perfectly to the new carnality of post-punk era. And, of course, what is repressed will be even more exciting once the corset is unlaced. Steampunk, even without sex, is erotic; with sex, it's over-the-top hot. There are brothels, flying machines, steam-powered conveyances, manor houses, spiritualist societies. The following stories afford intelligently written, beautifully crafted glimpses into other worlds, where the Carnal Machines won't fail to seduce you, get you wet or make you hard so, lie back, relax; a happy ending is guaranteed.

Read an excerpt from my contribution, Dr. Mullaley's Cure

New Call for Submissions!

I'll close the genre poll (see Thursday's post) out later today, so there's still time to cast your vote! And the fairy journal contest (see Tuesday) continues! ~DD

Girls Who Bite was my first anthology for Cleis Press. I had so much fun reading the many entries and working with the authors that I sent in a proposal for another! On Thursday, I got the email saying they wanted it! So, here are the details for any authors or aspiring authors out there! I can't wait to read your stories!

Beastly Babes

Editor: Delilah Devlin

Publisher: Cleis Press

Deadline: July 29, 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.

About the editor: Ms. Devlin has published over eighty erotic stories in multiple genres and lengths. Her published print titles include Into the Darkness, Seduced by Darkness, Darkness Captured, Down in Texas, Texas Men and Ravished by a Viking. Her short stories are featured in Zane's Purple Panties, and Cleis Press's Lesbian Cowboys, Girl Crush, Fairy Tale Lust, Lesbian Lust, Passion, Carnal Machines, and Dream Lovers. She is published by Avon, Kensington, Harlequin, Atria/Strebor, Ellora's Cave, Samhain Publishing, and Berkley. In Fall 2011, she debuts her first anthology with Cleis Press, Girls Who Bite.

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

NOTE: If I receive the submission early enough and like it but it's not quite right, there may be a chance to revise and resubmit. The key is to get the story in early!! DD

Snippet Saturday: Humor

The genre poll ends tomorrow (see Thursday's post for details). And the fairy journal contest (Tuesday's entry) continues, so be sure to post today!

Humor's always tough to write. It's all the pacing of the scene. Also, humor doesn't translate across cultures very well. So what's funny to one person won't be to another. I don't worry about all that crap and usually just let go. The last time I wrote something that left me giggling hysterically was this little scene. Hope you enjoy it half as much. ~DD

"Ms. Devlin will have readers laughing one minute and screaming the next… Bad, Bad Girlfriend is a witty, heart pounding smoking hot read that is a must have." 5 Angels, Fallen Angels

"Bad, Bad Girlfriend is just plain fun!… A great quickie from a great author." 5 Stars, Just Erotic Romance

"My emotions ran wild while reading Bad, Bad Girlfriend… Don't miss this mischievous woman's attempts to secure her man's love. I had a fantastic time reading Jolie and Gabe's story." 5 Silver Dragons, Veiled Secrets Reviews

Expect magic when one determined woman dons a legendary pair of red stilettos and bares body and heart to get her man's attention…

Jolene's a big, beautiful woman with an even bigger heart. But she's become her police officer boyfriend's favorite doormat and that's so not working for her. It's time for a little conversation, time to tell Mr. Happy Pants to "pee or get off the pot".

Gabriel has seen what his profession does to marriages. He's not willing to risk that kind of heartbreak. Besides, he likes what he has with Jolene. The woman is sex personified. So when Jolie tells him she won't see him anymore if he's not willing to commit, he's shocked and angry.

With a girlfriend's encouragement and the added confidence a certain pair of red stilettos gives her, Jolene arranges a special show at a strip club to prove to Gabe once and for all that she's more woman than any man can handle, and if he doesn't want the job, then she'll find another lover who does.

Jolie heard the music, tried to catch the beat, but she'd never been so scared, so embarrassed in her life.

She knew she'd made a huge mistake the minute she'd entered the stripper's dressing room. Lexie had ushered her in after Guppy, the skinny, bespectacled manager of the strip club, let them in the back door and showed them to the women's dressing room. She already wore her costume under a tightly belted trench coat, but getting her first up-close look at the other women awaiting their turns on the stage made her lose her nerve.

She turned back toward the exit.

Lexie stood behind her, her arms crossed over her chest. "No you don't. Not after I paid him a hundred dollars to let you do this!"

"You paid him?"

Lexie shrugged. "He prefers professionals, but he's not above a bribe."

"Great. You had to pay him to let me take off my clothes. Get out of my way."



Lexie's chin firmed, and her eyes narrowed into the meanest look her friend could manage. "You talked me into this. You convinced me this was a good idea. No way are you going to chicken out now."

"They'll laugh at me," Jolie whispered furiously.

The other women, even the curvier ones, weren't as well-padded.

One the women nearest them, eyed Jolie in the glass as she applied a wide streak of eyeliner. "We've had big girls before. Some of the men prefer 'em. Give it a go, hon."

Jolie didn't appreciate the advice and straightened her spine, ready to walk right through Lexie if she didn't get the hell out of her way.

Lexie lifted her chin. "You want a ring, remember? A commitment. You want him to notice you, know you're desirable for more than your cupcakes."

Jolie swallowed, her eyes filling. "I'm scared."

Lexie's militant expression softened. "You'll do fine. In ten minutes, it'll all be over. And you'll know whether the shoes were meant for him."

Jolie nodded slowly. "I couldn't get the pasties to stick, the adhesive didn't work on top of the body lotion I applied."

The stripper eyeing her in the mirror turned and held out her hand. "Give 'em to me. I'll show you my little trick. Works every time."

Reluctantly, Jolie pulled the little gold-glittered pasties from the pocket of her coat and handed them to the woman who towered on a pair of platform PVC boots.

"Get out of that coat. Have to show your boobs. It's just us girls here."

The other girls laughed, but their smiles seemed friendly enough. Jolie didn't like being the center of attention and especially didn't like the fact her "girls" were everyone's focus, but she opened her coat and let Lexie slide it off her shoulders.

"The bra too. Can't paste 'em on top of those cones. Nice bra by the way."

"Thanks," she said faintly. "The Whip and Tickle had a sale."

"Name's Angie," the redhead said, grinning, "since we're about to get friendly."

Jolie's eyes widened. The woman took a small bottle of glue sitting beside her open makeup case, circled the pasty then twisted it onto Jolie's boob.

Jolie held her breath, shocked to her core. Her nipple beaded beneath the little circle and the pasty began to fall away.

"Oh, don't worry about that," Angie said. "Happens all the time to me. It's cold out there." Angie peeled the pasty off the rest of the way, carried it to her mouth and licked it then twisted it back onto Jolie's nipple.

Jolie knew she must have earned a ton of bad karma as the women laughed around her.

"They're just laughing at your expression," Angie said. "We all have our little tricks for keeping these things hiding the pearlies."

Jolie suffered through Angie twisting on the second one, and didn't even blanch when she licked it.

But she didn't dare give Lexie a glance. She could feel her shaking beside her, clinging to her arm as she got ready to let loose with howls of laughter.

"Just remember," Jolie clipped, "I know where you live, Lexie Burns."

"Sorry," Lexie gasped, covering her mouth with a hand. "You should have seen your face."

"Yeah, it was pretty funny," Angie said, her smile stretching. "You're ready. Get that bra closed. You're up next. Give that boyfriend hell."

Lexie tossed Jolie's coat over the back of a chair and grabbed Jolie's waist, pushing her out the door and down the corridor toward the side of the stage. The curtains were closed.

Guppy signaled to her from the far side. "Get in the middle and I'll open 'em up."

Jolie dug in her heels. Lexie pushed harder, and Jolie couldn't get the traction she needed with the tiny stiletto tips scraping across the wooden floor. When she was behind the curtain, Guppy gave her a thumbs-up, and Lexie darted back.

The curtains started to open, but Jolie grabbed both sides and held them closed. "Oh hell no." She'd gotten a glimpse of the crowd when the curtain waved.

The bar was packed. A dozen or more heads and shoulders peering above the edge of the stage. They'd be looking up her ass.

"Let go of the curtain," Guppy yelled.

Jolie shook her head. "No way in hell."

Hands slipped over hers. "Let go, Jolie," Lexie bit out, trying to peel back her fingers. "I paid for ten minutes but you can do five and I won't even make you pay me back."

She squeezed Jolie's hands, but Jolie gripped the fabric tighter.

They stumbled against the curtain, and she felt the curtain give a little from the top.

"You girls tear it down, you're payin' for it!" Guppy yelled. "Still got your credit card, missie."

"Let go!" Lexie growled.

"I changed my mind. Musta lost it. No man's worth the humiliation."

"Give…the shoes…a chance." Lexie dug her fingers under the waistband of Jolie's shorts in the back and tugged.

"You tryin' to give me a wedgie?"

"Worked in high school."

The elastic at the back of her thong popped and Jolie let go to give Lexie a glare when the curtains swished open.

Lexie hid behind the edge as it retreated, leaving Jolie in the center of the stage, pushing the remnants of her thong down her crack. The movement thrust out her chest and the men around the stage began to howl.

Jolie crossed her arms in front to hide herself, but only managed to press more of her boobs over the top of the shiny cups.

"Bump and grind! Bump and grind!" Lexie shouted from the side.

Well, she was already out there in her underwear. What the hell? Jolie closed her eyes and listened for the music again, this time she felt it and took a couple of shaky steps forward. The stage narrowed to a catwalk, lights trimming the edge. Hands reached high, shaking dollar bills. One grabbed her ankle, but she shook him off and continued forward.

She caught a glimpse of two figures closing in from the front of the club, two tall, broad figures wearing dark uniforms.

Dear God, they were here. Gabe's face was tight, hard. His fists curled. And he was coming fast.

The look on his face shouldn't have excited her, but it did. She shook back her hair, turned on her heel and shook her ass for the crowd.

"Jolie!"

She heard his shout, but it only served to spur her on. She turned, squatting near a handsome dude whose eyes ate her up as she bounced and leaned forward.

His fingers slid under the edge of her bra and stuffed a dollar in her cleavage. She gave him a wink and glided up, turning to bend over and stare at him between her legs before easing up again, and rolling her hips, popping them to the music.

"Take a twenty!" another man shouted.

She strolled like a runway model, putting a finger in her mouth and standing in front of him to trace a wet path down her belly to the snap of her shorts.

"Show us some more skin!" he shouted, waving that bill.

Jolie gave him a wink, feeling more assured of her attraction, squatted in front of him and leaned forward to get the money. However, he grabbed for her boob, nearly pulling her from the stage.

A bouncer ran up and pulled him back.

Jolie gave Gabe a sideways glance. You see that, baby? Your precious milk-and-cookies mama is gonna start a riot.

She bent toward the man seated next to the one who'd been hauled backward from the stage. He stuffed a cool, crisp twenty into her shorts. She went to her knees and opened the top toggle of her bra.

Shouts and whistles started and she leaned back, smoothing a hand down her belly and back up then opening another latch. One more to go. Would she have the nerve?

"Jolie, don't do it," Gabe shouted.

But Gabe didn't own her ass. Didn't own her boobs. He hadn't claimed an inch of her skin.

She opened the last clasp and held the edges closed over her breasts, and slowly rose, walking to the end of the stage right in front of Gabe. With his hot, angry stare locking with hers, she opened her bra wide, flashing the crowd and shaking her glitter-topped tits. Take that, Gabe Devine.

A hand reached up and grabbed for her ankle.

Jolie tried to kick it loose, but the man was rising from his seat. "Come here, baby. Rub those titties on my face."

She teetered and let out choked scream, falling toward the man. But he flew backward and another set of arms caught her.

A shoulder hit her belly and she folded over a wide, muscular frame. Gabe's butt flexed beneath her gaze as he stomped toward the doors.

The doors whooshed open and he carried outside and down the steps. Cool, wintery air prickled her skin, drying her sweat immediately.

"Put me down," she said. "It's cold!"

But he didn't slow his pace, not until he reached the squad car and opened the back door and flung her inside.

Jolie landed in a sprawl of legs and arms and climbed up from the floorboard to kneel on the seat, staring back at Gabe who hunched over to glare inside the car.

"What the hell were you thinking?" he blasted.

Jolie shoved both hands on her hips and yelled back, "That it was about damn time I started looking for another man."

"In that place? Did you want to get raped?"

"I wanted someone to notice me."

His eyes narrowed to angry slits. "All you have to do is breathe deep to get a man's attention."

Jolie realized her bra still gaped open and that Tyler was walking up behind Gabe.

"Gonna ride in the back?" he asked Gabe. "Or are we gonna book her?"

"For what?" Jolie said, lifting her chin to dare Tyler to stare. "I didn't break any laws."

"Gimme a minute," Tyler drawled, his gaze sweeping over her chest. "I can start with inciting a riot."

"Indecent exposure," Gabe bit out. He slipped into the back seat and slammed the door closed.

Tyler spoke into the mike up front, telling dispatch they were taking a break. Then he pulled out of the parking lot.

"Wait!" Jolie said as they entered the road. "Lexie's still back there."

"Lexie knows she's in a heap of shit," Tyler said over his shoulder. "She's on her way to her car. If she doesn't pass me in three, we'll go back for her."

A car pulled up alongside them, and Jolie stared at Lexie who gave her a cheerful wave and passed them.

She gulped down several deep breaths and slowly turned back to Gabe. His gaze was glued to her nipples. He lifted a finger and traced the edge of the pasty.

His movement was slow. Too slow. And then she saw his hand was shaking.

She raised her head slowly and locked glances with him.

His face was still tight, his lips pressed into a straight, narrow line. His eyes bored into her, his body radiated hot fury. "You did this on purpose. You knew I'd be there."

She raised her chin. He'd have to drag the details out of her only if he tortured her. Unfortunately, she had a very low pain threshold.

"Almost there," Tyler called over his shoulder.

A muscle alongside Gabe's jaw flexed. When the car slid into her apartment parking lot, he held perfectly still, waiting as Tyler got out and opened the trunk of the car. The door beside her opened and Tyler handed her a blanket, which she wrapped gratefully around her shoulders.

She'd forgotten how cold it was. The air stung her naked breasts.

Tyler opened Gabe's door, and Jolie decided to make a dash for it, running on the stilettos toward the door, trying to beat him to it. But boots slapped the pavement behind her, closing in.

Gabe grabbed her hand, swung her toward him, ducked, and once again she was reeling as he upended her and carried her toward the door.

"How'd you think you'd get inside?" he growled. "Have a key stashed in your underwear?"

She didn't like the nasty edge of his voice, but she opted on the side of caution and kept silent. Besides she could barely catch her breath because she bounced on his hard shoulder as he stomped across the foyer, passed the elevators and stalked up the three flights of stairs.

Jolie was staggered by his strength. He wasn't out of breath. She couldn't help it, but the caveman act was doing it for her.

Moisture flooded her channel but didn't wet a thing because gravity was holding the warm liquid inside her.

Her breasts scraped against the itchy woolen blanket and she prayed they'd get there soon because she was ready to explode. Ready to go wild.

At last he pushed through the door that opened onto her floor and strode toward her apartment. But he didn't put her down; he unlocked the apartment and hurried inside, kicking the door closed behind them.

Then she was sliding downward. He caught her between the door and his large body. He shoved her upward as soon as her heels hit the floor and from the rustling below, she knew what was coming next.

Her shorts opened and he shoved them down. His pants opened and then his cock was pressing at her portal, ramming past her entrance, stretching upward as he brought her down his shaft.

"What the fuck were you doing?" he whispered, leaning into her, his hips beginning to hammer against her, his mouth just above hers, still tight, his teeth bared.

Jolie quivered against him and lifted her legs, clinging to his hips and pressing her chest against his to force him back and give her room to move, but he wasn't having it.

He jerked and tunneled, so close she couldn't drag in enough air. Her head swam, her eyes filled, and only when the tears streaked down her cheeks did he lower his head and cover her mouth.

But he didn't deepen the kiss. His eyes were open, those blue orbs glaring.

She blinked to meet that stare, but couldn't stay stubborn for long because she was coming—fast, hard, her body vibrating and writhing against his in the shallow space between him and door.

The sound of her thrashing, knocking against the door, was overloud, masking her gasps and whimpers.

When she finally hung limp against him, he came out of her and let her slide down to the floor.

He stepped back, stuffed his swollen cock into his pants and zipped up. "Don't go out tonight. You be here. We're not done."

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

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

Mari Carr

Taige Crenshaw

Lauren Dane

HelenKay Dimon

McKenna Jeffries

Lissa Matthews

TJ Michaels

Emma Petersen

Shelli Stevens

Jody Wallace

TGIF!

The fairy journal contest continues. See Tuesday's post for details. But be sure to post a comment here today for another chance to win! ~DD

Just a little inspiration to get you through the day. Sometimes, the eyes have it.

Very interesting poll results…. Does it mean you don't want more cowboys from me? Darn. But yay, for historical with paranormal aspects. I'd like to write more stories in the vein of First Knight. However, the poll doesn't close for several more days. Things may change.

After being smothered in kids and dogs for days, I have a bit of room this morning to CLEAN HOUSE. It smells funky. Wet dog, mildew—we've had a very stormy week. More coming tonight as well. But I can't wait until tomorrow to tackle some chores. Or maybe my anxiety is due to the fact I've found another way NOT to write.

Anyway, rejoice! The weekend's almost here.