Delilah Devlin's Blog, page 543

I'm baaacck!

I have pictures to share, but I haven't even unpacked my suitcase yet. Today, I'll be doing the after fun-time blitz: loading photos, washing clothes, storing suitcases, cleaning my room and my Beta's fishbowl (stinky!), and catching up on email. Tomorrow, I have a guest, but Thursday, I'll be back with a contest and some fun clips of the cruise.

Thanks to all my guest bloggers while I was gone. Can't wait to catch up with what's been happening in everyone else's lives!

Guest Blogger: Taige Crenshaw

The Ah Hah Moment

By Taige Crenshaw

In my opinion what makes the difference between an ok book and a great one is that all-important "ah hah" moment.

So what is an "ah hah" moment?

Ah Hah Moment ~ Taige Crenshaw Definition:

A moment that elevates a story beyond just a book to a book that makes the reader remember a line or scene that makes them go back to it time and again. This is a true keeper book that has wear and tear from continued reading. The book you buy multiple copies of and don't lend it to anyone.

These "ah hah" moments aren't only in books. They can extent much further than that. They also happen in movies, TV shows and things that happen in your everyday life. In movies and TV shows these "ah hah" moments are those you remember and discuss with others. This is what happened to me recently. Some friends and I were discussing some of our favorite shows and movies. I noticed that each person had an "ah hah" moment when they talked about their show or movie they liked. In the everyday instances they ranged from falling in love, loss, and just a feel good or bad thing. Whenever I talk with others it is interesting hearing all these moments that resonated with each person.

No matter that type of "ah hah" they all had one thing in common – they leave a lasting impression. Resonate with you long after done.

Now back to books. So what makes an "ah hah" book? There is no sure formula. It has to be something that resonates with the reader. For me an "ah hah" moment is what makes the story more real. A book that from the first line they capture me. To that last line that makes me feel not only content but when I go to sleep I dream of the book. And long after that last word I think of what I read. Give me everything. Emotions laid bare. Build the setting so I can feel it like I am there. Bring me along with the characters step by step. Give me a plot that is intriguing and makes me flip the pages.

Then the most important thing of all "ah hah" me. Give me something in the story that will flip that special figurative switch inside. This will bring reading to an all-new level. When you hit that "ah hah" level you are on my automatic must buy and read now list. Again we go back leaving a lasting impression. One that resonates with the reader.

As a reader I seek out that "ah hah" moment in books. Those books are keeper ones that line my shelves and I read often. As a writer I strive to give the reader that "ah hah' moment. Since reading is so varied and goes by what resonates with the reader I don't succeed with everyone. Yet when I do with even just one reader I feel I have done what I set out to do – given that "ah hah" moment that will make me a keeper for a reader. I have a few readers who have contacted me letting me know that my story resonated with them in someway. That is it's own "ah hah" moment that makes me as a writer proud.

What are some of your "ah hah" moments in books?

****

Taige Crenshaw is a multi-published author with books available at Ellora's Cave Publishing, Liquid Silver Books, Loose Id, and Total-E-Bound. Taige has been enthralled with the written word from time she picked up her first book. It wasn't long before she started to make up her own tales of romance. With novels set in today, in alternate dimensions, or in the future she writes with adventure, fun sassy heroine's, and sexy hero's. Always hard at work creating new and exciting places Taige can be found curled up with a hot novel with exciting characters when she is not creating her own. Join her in the fun, frolic, interesting people and far reaches of the world in her novels. You can find out more about Taige at her website: http://www.taigecrenshaw.com or blog: http://www.taigecrenshaw.com/blog.

Wilde Seduction – What happens when a woman who doesn't know how to relax meets a man whose lust for life will change her and make all her deepest desires come to life?

Buy here at Total-E-Bound

Guest Blogger: V. J. Devereaux

Heroes…

Okay, I have a confession to make. I'm huge fan of Survivor, but not for the usual reasons. To be honest, I wasn't at first, the idea of a bunch of people trying to out-nasty each other just didn't do it for me. One show, though, was different. I won't give the season because it doesn't really matter. They were having one of their challenges, a test of strength and endurance, this one involved bags of sand. All the attention was on the two big muscle men on the show. Neither of them won. Instead it was the quiet lawyer who was the leader of one of the tribes. He didn't make a big deal out of it, he just stood, endured and got the job done. The fact that he was sort of cute in a lean and sexy way didn't hurt. (Yes, I wrote a book about him, but not the one I'm talking about today.)

From then on I was hooked. Not on the 'stars' but on those people, the ones in the background, the ones who get the job done. Once or twice, they've even won.

My heroes have always been different. One of my favorite authors was mystery author and ex-jockey Dick Francis. For many reasons not least of which that I loved his heroes. They were simple stories of good men trying to do the right thing against all odds. They weren't anti-heroes nor were they your classic hero types. They weren't snide or mean, they didn't sneer or smirk, they just got the job done. Stand-up guys, the ones who are there when you need them.

He was the only three-time winner of the Edgar awards and a romance story in his own right. He was deeply in love with his wife, who was his researcher on many of his stories until her death. When she died, he was heartbroken and retired until his son Felix got him writing again. He and Felix wrote three stories together before Dick Francis died. Now he is reunited with his Mary.

There are a lot of people who write stories of Alpha males, of dominance and whatnot and they write them really well, so I think I'll let them keep doing that. *grin* I want to write stories of good guys, of strong men who defy all the odds, strong men who respect strong women. I liked 300 for the same reasons, that Leonidas was a great King, powerful and sexy, with a strong Queen.

So, you're asking, how does a book about Demons fit in there? Aren't Demons the bad guys? Especially Asmodeus, the Prince of Demons himself?

I had started writing the story of Asmodeus because a lot of people were writing stories of vampires and werewolves and I wanted to do something different. (And I'd written one myself.) Just as suddenly I started noticing there were lots of stories about big bad demons popping up.

Well now, that's the other thing. I don't tend to write anything the way anyone expects. I like to put a new spin on things, look at them from a different perspective. So from there I went to, what if? What if everything everyone thought or was taught about demons was wrong? As a student of history I knew that over the centuries various groups have been 'demonized' for reasons that were just as varied, tribe, religion or race, or a bad case of I just don't like you or I want what you have.

And then I had it, that first scene, when Gabriel, the heroine, meets Asmodeus for the first time. It was clear and sharp in my mind's eye.

The stage or platform area captured her attention. She was transfixed, riveted by what she saw there. Her heart seemed to stop.

Spotlighted in the center of that vast chamber was without question the most magnificent specimen of masculine beauty she had ever seen in her life.

Hair as dark and glossy as a raven's wing streamed as smooth and straight as a ruler to his broad shoulders, framing a face that might have been carved by a master sculptor. Every line was clean, perfect, from his broad forehead to his high cheekbones with their deep hollows, from his finely bridged nose to the defined line of his square jaw. His mouth was a thing of beauty—firm, neither too thin nor too lush. There would probably be dimples if he smiled.

Completely naked from the top of his horned head to his clawed feet, it was impossible for her to miss any part of him.

All six foot five or six or so of gleaming muscle, silken hair, rampant… Oh, sorry…

Didn't I say I don't tend to write your standard leather clad Alpha males? I don't and he isn't.

He was naked. *grin*

Did I say he wasn't sexy? No.

It probably doesn't hurt that Asmodeus is not only gorgeous but has some mad skills in bed and out. And up against the wall, among other places. Then somehow, something else was introduced into the mix. When I wrote it I was a little concerned because he has some…uh…extra…assets. Then I read a few books by other authors and stopped worrying. He wasn't given the title Demon of Lust for nothing. The boy is talented. That little something extra doesn't hurt either.

To find out more, you'll have to read Demon's Kiss, coming from Ellora's Cave this week on January 26, the first book in a possible series called Demon Allure. You'll also learn about the Book of Demons and meet battered, scarred Ashtoreth, the hero of book two. But that's for another day. For now, I hope you enjoy Demon's Kiss.

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

Book 1 in the Demon Allure series.

F.B.I. Agent Gabriel Nicholas is kidnapped and dragged into a vast, underground chamber. Spotlighted in the center of that room is something—someone?—quite unbelievable. He's also, without doubt, the most magnificent specimen of masculine beauty she has ever seen. He is absolutely stunning.

Despite the circumstances, Gabriel burns to touch all that gorgeous, gleaming skin—a living palette of shifting red and black. She wants to run her fingers through his silken, ebony hair, feel those strong hands on her flesh.

He is Asmodeus, the Demon of Lust, legend come to life. But Gabriel soon realizes that Asmodeus is just as much a captive as she is.

Saturday Snippet: Bad Mood

Let's see… It's Saturday, so I must be in Mexico! I'll be thinking of you, although you may have the last laugh. The forecast is for rain!

I know I've shown you this excerpt before, but when the topic for today was listed as "Bad Mood", there wasn't another scene I've written lately that better describes it. True's an ornery, grumpy man. Enjoy! I'll be back on Tuesday! ~DD

Two men plus one woman equals three bodies on fire…

True Wyatt's hands are going to be full enough keeping the herd alive through the dead of winter. The last thing he needs to hear is that his brother Lonny has rented out their isolated hunting cabin to a reclusive writer—especially a sassy, disaster-prone brunette. Who has the time to babysit a city girl until Spring?

With a deadline looming, erotica writer Honey Cahill is looking forward to six distraction-free weeks to finish her next book. However, between Lonny's flirty sensuality and True's hard-edged intensity, the Wyatt brothers set the stage of her imagination for a winter of wicked delights.

The fire that destroys the cabin, though, is as real as it gets. Forced to seek a bed under True and Lonny's roof, the temptation to experiment—all in the name of research, of course—is overpowering. One night in their arms doesn't feel like enough; it feels like more. Particularly with one cowboy who fires all her cylinders…

Warning: It's a Devlin ménage—expect men with stamina and not an ounce of mercy to behave like sex gods, and the lucky woman to love every minute of it. A little domination goes a long, long way…

True Wyatt prided himself on control—control over the multitude of responsibilities that came with riding herd over a successful ranch; control over his brother, who thought life should be enjoyed rather than conquered; and control over the desires he'd kept in rein since the demise of his marriage. And yet, the sight that greeted him this cold winter day told him he'd only been fooling himself.

From his perch high atop the ridge overlooking the lonely cabin, True Wyatt watched the shapely brunette as she made another trip to her car to pull boxes and suitcases from her backseat, one after the other. Grumpily, he wondered how she'd managed to stuff so much inside a Corolla. The trunk had held a similar assortment of printer-paper-sized boxes, which she'd manhandled into the house, her face growing rosy with exertion.

Despite the biting wind, she'd dispensed with her down coat and wore only a sweater with a crew neck, the sleeves pushed off her wrists. The dark blue knit hugged her upper torso, defining a lovely bosom and narrow waist. Every time she bent to pull out another box her designer jeans hugged her small rounded bottom, and his loins tightened.

Which annoyed the hell out of him. Fact was, he wished he could turn his horse away and pretend he hadn't noticed trouble had arrived on his mountain. He knew exactly who to blame. His anger smoldered like hot coals ready to erupt into a full blaze. The clop of hooves approaching behind him carried just the fuel to add to the fire.

"Did you know?" True barked without glancing back.

"Know what?" his brother asked, humor underlying his slow drawl as he pulled up alongside him.

"That our tenant is a woman."

"Sure did. I'm surprised that you're surprised since I gave you a copy of her book. Picture's right there on the back cover."

The book in question sat on the credenza in True's office. Exactly where his brother had left it two days ago. The fact he hadn't bothered turning it over made True's cheeks heat. Dammit.

Lonny had asked him just last night if he'd read the story. The wicked gleam in his eyes when he'd said it should have clued True in that his little brother was enjoying a joke at his expense.

"You do know this is gonna complicate things. If we weren't busy enough after letting go of the seasonal hands, now we have to babysit—"

"She's not looking for anyone to babysit her, True. Said she wants the privacy to finish up a book."

True speared him with a glare. "We can't leave her alone. What the hell does she know about surviving a winter in high country?"

"Probably not any more than the male author you thought you were gettin'."

True gritted his teeth as Lonny's mouth stretched into a gleeful smile.

"Tell the truth. You planned on having to check up on Mr. H.A. Cahill. You don't trust tenderfoots."

"But I wouldn't be as worried. If a man's stupid enough to get himself into trouble out here, it's a damn shame, but not something I'd lose sleep over. But she's…" He waved his hand toward the woman hopping down the steps for another load.

Her breasts bounced enticingly, distracting him from what had to be said.

At Lonny's chuckle, he swung back with a narrowed gaze. "It's not safe. Does she know she could be shut in for a month? That bears and wolves pretty much think a cabin is a drive-through?"

"The bears are hibernating. She'll be gone before they stir. And you know wolves are shy of humans."

"Does she know how to shoot a gun? Dammit, does she even own one?"

Lonny shrugged. "I asked if she needed me to leave one. She gave me a funny look."

True cursed. "You show her how to light that cantankerous stove?"

"Showed her twice."

The woman bent, reaching deep to the back floorboard of her car. Her sweater rode up, exposing a set of deep dimples right above her sweetly curved ass.

"Electricity's bound to go out," True muttered.

"There's plenty of gas in the shed for the generator. 'Sides, she said candlelight gets her in the mood."

True's gaze swiveled back.

Lonny raised the hand not holding his reins. "For writing her stories. Although gotta wonder myself if she wasn't talking about more. Her book was damn hot."

"You thinking to give her inspiration?" True growled, his voice rising.

"Well, she did invite me down for a meal…" At True's deepening scowl, he flashed a grin. "Out of gratitude. Said when Leroy's hunting cabin went up in that brushfire her plans for a retreat were all shot to hell. She's forever in my debt." He waggled his eyebrows at the last statement.

True looked away, hoping to keep from saying something really nasty, because for whatever reason, the thought of his brother with the curvy woman below made him feel even meaner.

When he glanced back down the hill, his gut clenched. H.A. Cahill had stacked two boxes and was walking slowly toward the porch. The height of her burden was taller than the top of her head.

"Dammit," he cussed and nudged his horse forward. She was gonna break her neck—and on his property. Sooner he helped her get inside, the sooner he could move on to more important things, like moving the last of the cattle to the box canyon where they'd stay to weather the worst of the winter.

As his horse picked its way down the slope, he kept sending darting glares her way, willing her silently to stay put. The brief thaw they'd experienced the past week had ended. Snow clung to patches of shaded earth, but had melted away everywhere else, leaving mud and slicks of slush. However, today's cold snap was re-freezing the ground, the roads—the damn steps.

She slowed as she approached the steps, kicking out one booted toe to find them. Then tentatively, she stepped up. His worst fear was realized when she took another step and her foot slid out from under her. She toppled backward to the ground, giving a startled yelp as her boxes opened and the wind carried away pages of paper.

He kicked his horse's sides, hurrying him down, ignoring the pounding of his brother's horse behind him.

Before his own palomino came to a full halt beside the woman struggling to sit, he was out of his saddle and glaring down.

Ready to tear into her for her carelessness, he opened his mouth—but a strange thing happened. One look into her cornflower blue eyes, and his breath hitched. The caustic complaint he was about to voice stuck in his throat.

"You must be the brother," she said breathlessly, her voice impossibly chipper for a woman who looked as though she'd gotten the wind knocked right out of her. "True, right? Your parents…got really creative with…your names," she gasped. "I like that. Don't be surprised…if they turn up in a book somewhere." And then she grinned.

True's dick hardened in one blazing instant, and he knew with a fatalistic certainty just what kind of books she wrote.

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

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

Eliza Gayle

Leah Braemel

Jody Wallace

Lauren Dane

Lissa Matthews

Mari Carr

McKenna Jeffries

Shelli Stevens

Taige Crenshaw

TJ Michaels

Guest Blogger: Adele Dubois

Freed by HD

by Adele Dubois

"No one looks good in HD", an actor said on TV. I had to laugh at his remark, because it's true. High definition resolution shows every flaw on an actor's skin. Scars, pimples, lines and moles that make-up and filtered lenses used to hide are impossible to cover in high def.

Seemingly overnight, celebrities have transformed from impossibly perfect icons into regular people dressed in their Sunday best. We're able to see them as they really are—flaws and all—and I find the change refreshing. It not only removes the impossible standards women, especially, are pressured to emulate, but also levels the playing field for us authors, who never had the benefit of filtered lenses, plastic surgery or make-up artists in the first place.

At book signings, I always wonder how readers see the people behind the stories. We authors aren't celebrities like the actors on TV. We're more like the man behind the curtain in Oz, whose stories might intrigue us, but whose appearance might sometimes be better left a mystery. As long as there have been books, there have been ordinary people behind the stories. Our imaginations, not our physical forms, are what inspire readers.

I like that high definition television has opened the wizard's curtain and let us see actors a bit clearer. It makes life so much easier for the rest of us.

REV ME TWICE Summary:

Crystal is a bad, bad girl in the most delicious ways. She tries to be good and is tempted to commit to her Navy MP boyfriend, Tomas, but has no experience with an exclusive relationship or healthy family structure. She likes her life as a cable TV stripping weather girl and sex party host, and resists conforming to the traditional lifestyle Tomas craves. Without her weekly ménages and wild orgies, can she become the partner Tomas wants?

When Crystal receives death threats, a media frenzy erupts. During a break-in, the threatening letters are stolen, erasing evidence that thwarts an arrest. Tomas sports Crystal away on his Harley to protect her, but a deadly crash changes everything. Faced with the choice between self-interest and self-sacrifice, Crystal must decide if she will embrace a new life with Tomas or walk away.

Buy The Book!

*****

Adele Dubois Website


Find Adele on Twitter!

Guest Blogger: Shelli Stevens (Contest)

Hello all, and thanks to Delilah for letting me blog here today!

So sometimes when an author writes a story they have a playlist of music they listen to. It can vary depending on what they're writing (genre, heat level, etc.)

I tend to go back and forth. Sometimes a list demands to be made for a book, sometimes not. Sometimes I listen to rain meditation music because I can zone out and just type. Tonight I've turned off everything because we're having a windstorm and I love the sound of the wind whistling through the tree branches.

My most recent book out is a Command and Control, a novella from Samhain. It's the second book in my Holding out for a Hero series. The series follows three brothers in a small town, all who've chosen heroic careers to go into, and they're journey in finding love.

My hero in Command and Control is Trevor. He's my army guy. He's a war veteran, and he has some serious baggage. This book didn't really have a playlist, it had a song. Hammerhead by The Offspring. I kind of stumbled on it and really loved it. It worked for my hero. It was his song. It showed his frustration. His anger. His struggles. (Disclaimer: The end of the song gets kind of weird and there's debate on whether this song is about a soldier, or more of school shooters type of thing. I went for soldier. I tend to just skip that little last bit of the song.)

Anyway, that's a little peek at Trevor and this book. Leave a comment and I'll have Delilah draw a winner to receive an ebook off my backlist!

While I'm away…

I'm off again! Seems like I just got back!

This time to Miami, Key West, and Cancun! Good thing it's for a conference because I'd really be mad at the forecast—rain, sun, cool, hot. I know I packed way too many clothes.

While I'm gone, I have guests coming to entertain you. Please drop by and make them feel welcome!

Thursday—Shelli Stevens

Friday—Adele Dubois

Saturday—Snippet Saturday (Bad Mood)

Sunday—V. J. Devereaux

Monday—Taige Crenshaw

I'm not sure whether I'll want to pay for Internet access aboard ship. It's only five days. Guess it depends on whether I'm having an awesome time. Y'all stay out of jail. Or just make sure the fun was worth it! ~DD

Guest Blogger: Sasha White

I admit it, when I said I'd guest blog for Delilah I thought, "Cool, I can pimp Meandros." I do have some stuff to say about that story, but I'm not really in the mood for straight book pimping. I have so many other things I want to say, so this is gonna be a bit of a mish-mash post, but there will be a point, so go for it, you might enjoy the way I ramble. *grin*

Meandros was the first story I ever wrote where the character actually took over the story and ran away on me. To a certain extent all my characters do that, as I'm not a real big plotter. I tend to start with a wish and dream and ride the wave as I go. And yes, I've tried to get Delilah to teach me how to plot, but whenever we start to do so, I get a panic attack. Seriously, at one point I was almost in tears because I just don't get it. Ask Delilah, she'll tell you. Sasha can't plot.

With Meandros it was a freaky thing though. You see, I'd set out to write a Hot Holiday story with a couple honeymooning in Greece. And it started that way, on the plane, a little steamy action happening, until the end of that first scene when my character (I was writing in first person POV) shocked the shit out of me with one sentence. Want to see it? Check this out…

With that comment, he'd edged out of the tiny stall and left me to readjust my clothes. I savored the knowledge he was just as dirty as I was. He was my perfect other half. I gloried in the knowledge that, with him, I'd found the kind of love I'd given up on ever finding—bone deep and unconditional.

The kind of love that made it unbearable to contemplate what life had to offer me now that he was gone.

Gone? What did she mean gone?!

It took me months of fighting with her, and getting nowhere, before I gave in and went with it. And honestly, I think to this day Meandros is one of my best works. It's not really a romance, not really erotica. It's full of emotion and sex, and hope and at times, joy. It's special to me because of the story itself, but also because it taught me to trust my characters.

But I think I might've taken that trust a bit too far. Or maybe started to rely on it too much, because after doing that for several years I've been blocked with my writing for almost three years now. One of the things I did to try and break that block was to try doing things differently, hence Delilah trying to teach me how to plot. Yeah, that didn't work either. LOL

Right now I'm taking a workshop on self-editing because I've always worried that my grammar sucks. I graduated from high school with good grades, and English was my top subject. ( I always thought it was because I could talk and wasn't shy when giving reports.) However, maybe it's so many years of being a waitress/bartender, I still sometimes get that self doubt about my lack of education. Especially since I became a writer. At first it didn't bother me because when I started writing I just wrote, and submitted. I didn't have a critique partner, or a community I belonged to. I didn't have any friends that were writers. But as success came, and the friends came, and I grew to be part of a community, I slowly started to doubt myself. Not just my ability to tell a story, but my writing skills. And I think that doubt is what's crippled me.

I have some great friends, like Delilah, who've told me I'm too talented to quit. I've had numerous reader emails asking when will my next book come out, and telling me how much they love my stuff. I've even had some great reviews from critical reviewers. Yet, the doubt still crept in. I'm not sure how it did, but it did. And that doubt talks louder than any praise.

Sad, isn't it?

The good thing is, that because I recently signed up for that online editing course, I've become part of a new community. And something….karmic happened the other night.

One person posted about writers block.

Maybe it's because I don't know any of the people on that loop just yet, I don't know, but I posted about my own struggle, and WOW. The response has been amazing. And helpful! It was in talking with these people that I realized that the problem at the core of my block has been fear. That little bit of doubt about my own skills has festered into something that actually stopped me from writing. I thought it was burnout, (and it was …partly) but after I recovered from the burnout, I still wasn't writing.

I'm writing again. Not as much as I should, and I'm still struggling a bit. And I know I probably will for a while, but the most important thing I learned is that I'm not alone. Even when my closest friends couldn't help me, I wasn't alone. I think it's super important that we understand that as solitary as this writing gig is, we're only alone if we want to be. If we don't want to be, all we have to do is reach out, and someone will reach back.

The point is, that we're never alone, and we all have fears. The key to success is to not let your fears keep you from doing whatever it is you want to do. I'm not going to.

"You block your dream when you allow your fear to grow bigger than your faith."

~Mary Manin Morrissey

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

Only once more, always once more.

Dancer Tammi Johnson thought she knew everything about her body–until she was almost crippled in a car accident. She'd resigned herself to a life without joy until the sexy and dynamic Tom showed her that dancing wasn't the only passion, or pleasure, she could experience. He taught her to live and love with her whole body–and her whole heart

But when tragedy strikes again, Tammi is devastated. Until she acknowledges that the only way to honor the love of her life is to celebrate what he taught her, and for Tom, she'd do anything once more.

This 'n' That

The winner of Saturday's drawing for a free download is at the bottom of this message! Also, I posted an excerpt from True Heart on the After Midnight Fantasies blog—so be sure to stop by and say hello!

I'm back from Mississippi! Thanks to the ladies who visited my blog while I was gone! The workshop was a lot of fun and everyone plotted stories I'm eager to read!

While I was gone, an old friend of mine from my days in Germany contacted me. We'd lost touch; something I always regretted. I haven't made many really close friends outside of family over the years, but she was one I really missed. My head's spinning with travel plans now. I have to get back to Germany to see her and her husband. Not sure it will be this year, but I don't have any firm plans for the fall, so who knows!? She's into cemetary photography. I'll have to send her links of my cemetary pics.

Just to catch you up on what's happening writing-wise… I finished a short for a Cleis anthology. Am hoping it's accepted. If not, you'll be reading it on this blog or Everything Erotic, no doubt. I'm still working on a cowboy threesome which I hope to publish with a couple of friends. I'll likely have to finish it up on board the cruise ship.

Did I mention I'm leaving this week, Wednesday to be exact, for a writers' conference aboard a Carnival ship? I fly to Miami on Wednesday and will board on Thursday. First stop is Key West, then on to Cozumel. I have a new digital camera, a Canon Rebel Eos, so I'll break it in on that trip. Hopefully, I'll have it figured out by then. So not a lot of writing planned before I leave. I need a pedicure today. Hair tomorrow. Have to dig my passport out of my file cabinet.

Thanks to everyone who sent me messages regarding True Heart and Ravished by a Viking. I LOVE that you're loving both. True was #1 on the MBaM site until today. Remember, that if you read them, it would be much appreciated if you tagged or starred or reviewed them. Tell a friend you enjoyed them. Every sale means a lot. Means I may be able to write more in the series.

Winding down now, I have to get changed to hit Tony's Nails before it gets packed. The winner of the free download of any of my Samhain or Ellora's Cave backlisted books is…Nicole! Nicole, email me with your choice of story!

Until tomorrow…

Guest Blogger: Katriena Knights

Why, Yes. Yes, I Can

by Katriena Knights

I've seen some things on blogs and elsewhere recently that seem to represent a disturbing trend. At least they disturbed me. Maybe I'm easily disturbed. But I've had my medication today, and I don't know any better than to keep my mouth shut, so I'm going to address the idea here.

Here's the idea: You can't make a living writing.

Here's my idea: You can't make a living writing if you spend most of your time telling yourself and everybody else that you can't make a living writing.

I spent a chunk of my summer in an online workshop with Christine Kane, who is a life coach, successful entrepreneur and massively awesome musician. What we all learned in this workshop was that if we maintain the idea that our dreams can carry us wherever we want to, they will. In a big way. Over the past couple of years, I've seen this happening with my own career. Not all at once, mind you, but in increments and phases and with opportunities that came out of nowhere and smacked me in the head. Heck, a few of them damn near knocked me unconscious. (As my mother says, God is never subtle with you, is she?)

I do not have an agent. I do not have a contract with a major New York publisher. Okay, I got a few novellas optioned with secondary rights over to Pocket, but that's not the same thing as an ongoing deal with Pocket. It's one of those bits and pieces, though, that make up part of my ongoing puzzle. What I do have is a collection of publishers I work with regularly for fiction writing, a selection of clients for whom I write non-fiction pieces, and a stubborn streak about nine million miles wide. I also edit, which I originally never dreamed I'd do, but which has turned out to be a rewarding venture that allows me to help other writers and also goes a long way toward improving my own writing.

I also don't have a day job. It took me a few years to get here, but I'm doing it. If I can, so can you. So keep those positive thoughts moving, say "thank you" to whatever power you believe in, or to the universe in general, for every step forward and every opportunity, and keep going. Because you can make a living writing, or singing, or walking dogs, or making art out of paper clips. But not if you keep telling yourself you can't.

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Katriena Knights is the author of several paranormal and contemporary romance novels. She also writes erotic romance as Elizabeth Jewell. Her latest release is The Regan Factor, previously published under her Elizabeth Jewell pseudonym at Ellora's Cave, now self-published at various outlets including Amazon and Barnes & Noble. Her next release arrives in March from Noble Romance. It's a fantasy romance called Ring of Darkness.

Information on her books can be found at http://katrienaknights.com, and she blogs at http://katrienaknights.blogspot.com. She can also be found on Twitter at http://twitter.com/crazywritinfool