Delilah Devlin's Blog, page 550

Too sexy

NaNo Day 7:

Viking-2—1688 words

GWB-Me—384 words

Just a little something to give you a lift. Wonder what he's thinking.

Ouch, this hard bench hurts my back?

I'm too sexy for my shirt, too sexy for pants, so sexy it hurts…

What do you think's running through his mind?

Sunday Report Card

NaNo Day 6:

Viking-2—1819 words

GWB-Me—603 words

Since this time last week, I've written 70 pages of Viking story and am smack in the middle of chapter 14; I plotted and wrote 13 pages of my short story for Girls Who Bite; and I've been doing a lot of thinking about a new BDSM story—hey, thinking counts as progress!

I'm not fried yet, but I still have 3 weeks to go. Wait and see if I'm still sane or babbling and drooling on my keyboard by then.

I hope to keep healthy and focused for another week. I want to be done with the short story, I want to be done with chapter 17 of the Viking thing, and I want to have started a new story. Why do you ask? Okay, so maybe you really don't care enough to wonder, but I have to have something new started before I finish the Viking thing or I'll wallow in "what do I do now?" and not make any progress at all. When I'm pumped about one book, it's time to start the next.

All you fellow NaNo'ers—let's have another awesome week!

What can you readers do to help a girl out? I do need a cheering squad. Lots of "Rah-Rahs" and pretty pom-poms shaking. And if you've read a book lately, be sure to post a review, tag it, or star it. Those little things do count.

Snippet Saturday: Bring me a tissue (waaaah!)

NaNo Day 5:

Viking-2—2136 words

GWB-Me—277 words

If y'all know me, you are well aware that my characters aren't made of mush. It takes a lot to knock the stuffing out the man or the woman. I don't do it often because I'm not an overly sentimental girl myself. That's not to say that you won't find emotion, a lot of it, usually best expressed when the characters are at their most vulnerable.

In this excerpt, one of my favorite heroes, Quentin, is made especially vulnerable due to his worry for his mate. I was especially cruel to readers of this story, because while the story starts with Darcy and Quinton, it shifts to others who will join in a hunt for one of their fallen's killer. I didn't tell the rest of this couple's story until book seven.

Here's a snippet to show you what I'm talking about. It's from Silver Bullet, the sixth book in the Immortal Knight series.

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

He met her at the water's edge as she returned from her solitary walk, her bare feet sand-encrusted and her steps slow and measured. One hand pressed the small of her back—a disquieting gesture that caused him no small amount of alarm. The purple of dusk was reflected in the circles beneath her beautiful brown eyes.

"Darcy-love, why didn't you wait?" Quentin Albermarle slipped his arm around his wife's slender back, not surprised when she leaned into him to share her burden.

"You wouldn't have enjoyed yourself." She lifted her head to stare into his eyes, one brow arching in amusement. "I wanted to watch the sunset."

Her teasing smile warmed his soul. How had he lived before knowing her? Now, he couldn't remember a night that didn't begin and end with her. "Well, you have me there," he said softly. "Sunset's not something I'd find the least bit pleasant." He turned her in his arms and settled his chin on the top of her head as his hands circled her stretched-taut belly. "Still, I'd prefer it if someone accompanied you when I can't be here. It isn't safe," he admonished her lazily, enjoying the breeze that lifted her dark hair to float against his chest and the pleasure of her warm body aligned with his. "It's not like we haven't enough hirelings to spare one for your walks."

"I wanted a little alone time and it was light when I started." She shrugged. "I guess I'm walking a little slow these days."

Quentin's jaw clenched at the familiar fear that struck him. Her ordeal wouldn't be something he could conquer for her. And he suspected the Lamaze classes he'd endured at her insistence were as much for his benefit as hers.

Taking a deep breath, he let the air hiss between his teeth and watched the slim gold line that rimmed the navy sea blink out. "More reason to stay inside The Compound, don't you think?"

"The walk was nice. I can't get too flabby or I'll have hell getting back in shape for work."

Quentin had his own thoughts about how she looked—her features were a little less lean, but softer and more feminine. He also had rather strong thoughts about whether she should ever return to the police force. But there was time for that discussion later. "You're beautiful and wearing my favorite shade of blue."

Darcy looked down at her sky-blue sundress and snorted. "You know darn well it's the color of your eyes."

"I know. Seeing you in it makes me feel like my ownership's stamped all over you."

"I'm wearing your colors, hmmm? You are a primitive man at heart. I like that."

"And feeling downright primal at the moment. I didn't like not finding you beside me when I woke," he let his words rumble, then admitted the truth, "I was worried."

"I'm sorry. I was restless waiting for you to wake from your beauty rest. Besides, I only have to worry about the things that go bump in the night, right?"

He nuzzled her neck, breathing in her fragrance—her mother's raspberry soap and her own feminine musk. "Were-bastards don't fry in the sunshine," he growled, knowing his comment would get a rise out of her.

"Hush!" she said, smacking his hand. "No name-calling. Remember, Max is my friend."

He smiled into her hair and lightly squeezed her belly. The child within complained and delivered a solid kick just beneath his hand. "I was thinking of dear old Max when I said it."

"You really need to learn to get along with him. I know he's a little intense, what with him hating vamps in general, but Pia has him leashed."

"That's what has me worried. That walking disaster paired with a werewolf—it's a wonder she's not hacking up hairballs."

"Wrong species." She giggled. A lovely tinkling sound, all the more precious because she didn't do it often.

He snorted. "Just plain wrong, if you ask me."

Darcy cleared her throat. "Speaking of which, when's the plane coming in?"

"It'll touch down in about fifteen minutes. Then wait until Navarro gets a look at our new pet. Don't be surprised if we see fur flying."

She tilted back her head to look into his eyes, her expression a little pinched. "This Navarro…is he a good guy?"

Quentin shrugged. "He's one of us."

Her eyebrows rose. "Oh, and that's supposed to be reassuring?"

"I'm a good guy," Quentin said softly. "Trust me to make sure introductions are handled appropriately."

"The way you say that—all British and proper…" She shivered. "…does things to me." Then her expression grew serious. "All right, Quentin, I'll trust you so long as you make sure he gives Max a fair chance to prove he's part of the team."

Quentin snorted again.

"Now you have to admit the guy's been a big help tracking the remnants of that rabid wolf pack."

Quentin wasn't ready to give the were any credit. "Takes a dog to sniff another out," he mumbled.

Her nose wrinkled. "You're so prejudiced."

"I have reason to be." Then wishing to end a conversation that caused her distress, he kissed her lips.

With a sigh, she surrendered her body, leaning more heavily against him. Her mouth opened beneath his, and his tongue lapped inside. She returned soft loving strokes that had him hard as a doorknob in seconds.

He dragged away his mouth, glad the breeze off the ocean was whipping up enough to cool his overheated skin. "Witch," he whispered.

"What did I do?" she asked, wide-eyed.

The curve of her lips told him she felt his frustration. He narrowed his gaze. "Just you wait…"

"Won't be long now." She rubbed her bottom against his arousal.

What could a vampire do to stop the woman he loves from teasing him into full-fanged arousal? He dragged his teeth along the side of her throat in a silent warning to behave.

"And that's supposed to scare me?" Soft laughter shook her body. "You shouldn't use the same tactic to make me horny."

His breath gusted in a short laugh. "Bugger, is that the problem?"

"Someday you're going to tell me what it is you have against weres." She turned in his arms and stared up, moonlight reflecting in her eyes. "And I should be a little angry about the way you always use sex to change the conversation."

With her large belly between them, Quentin's lips twitched. "This from the woman who's discovered the ultimate distraction method of digital manipulation—"

Darcy pressed her finger against his lips to halt his words. "You're not doing it again."

Quentin raised his eyebrows in question.

"Changing the subject." She huffed a long sigh. "I'm worried about Max meeting Navarro. We're only just getting used to the fact he's Lycan, and now Navarro's coming from the Northwest council because of this problem with another Powell brother. Things are happening too fast."

Quentin glared. He opened his mouth to give her a glib answer, but her finger mashed his lips.

"What, you have something to say?" Her finger swirled on his lips then lingered a moment until he dutifully kissed the tip.

When she withdrew it, he said, "Is the problem that you think Navarro won't listen, or that Max is going to misbehave?"

Darcy's brows drew together. "Both."

He gave an exaggerated sigh. "You're going to make me intervene on his behalf, aren't you?" Damn! He wished she didn't care so much about the wolf.

"Maybe. Is Navarro really going to give him a fair shake, or will he do what's expedient? I mean, I know vamps and weres have this long history of warfare between the species."

"Navarro isn't one to make 'expedient' decisions. Hell, I'd second him if he did in this case. But Navarro's…deep, likes to consider things before he acts. Now if it were up to me…"

"I know, you'd have poor Max's were-head mounted on the wall."

"Poor Max?" Quentin grinned. He couldn't help it. The thought of Max's head glowering above the mantel cheered him considerably. But Darcy's darkening expression had him saying, "You think I'd want that ugly mug of his preserved?"

"Quentin! This isn't funny. I'm scared." The frown still marring her brow, Darcy played with a button on the front of his shirt. "I don't get why you're so set against him."

"I have my reasons," he said, folding her upper body closer to his chest.

"Well, that certainly fills in the blanks." Her nose nuzzled his neck, and she sighed. "You know, it's not fair that you have this long past I don't know anything about."

"Ask me anything," he said, his voice gruff. "I'll tell you what I can."

She leaned away. "Really?"

Quentin hadn't realized how important the issue was until her expression softened and her eyes grew moist. He cupped her face between his palms. "I'm yours, Darcy," he whispered fiercely, "body, soul and endless history. I'll bore you to tears with the retelling of all the mundane facts of my misspent youth."

Despite the moisture welling in her eyes, Darcy's lips curved in a wry smile. "I know I won't be bored. Just finding out how you first met Dylan will likely be enough to satisfy my curiosity for weeks." A shadow crossed her face. "But not now. I'm a little tired."

Downplaying his worry, he smiled. "Come rest a while with me?"

"You just got out of bed."

He waggled his eyebrows. "I'll hold you."

"You know what that usually leads to," Darcy said, arching a brow.

"Have I been too demanding?" he asked, his tone mild, knowing she'd rise once again to the bait.

"Not at all, as you damn well know." She swatted his chest with her open palm. "I'm frustrated as hell!"

He leaned toward her and nuzzled her ear. "Haven't I pleased you?" he growled.

Her breath hitched, and she groaned. "You know you have. Your mouth makes me crazy—the fact my belly's so big I can't watch you drives me even crazier. But I want to please you, too."

"Soon enough, love," he said, wishing he had her turned so he could rub his aching cock against her bottom for relief. As it was, her belly prevented any contact. "This never-ending erection is my penance."

"Why do you owe a penance?"

He shuttered his expression from her knowing glance.

But she was too attuned to his moods. Her head tilted and she smoothed a hand over his cheek. "I know it's hard for you. This isn't your child. I don't blame you a bit for being resentful."

He closed his eyes. "This child will be ours in every way except its conception." He meant it. He really did.

"I know that." She touched his forehead. "You know that." Then she placed her hand on his chest. "But your heart doesn't. Don't feel guilty about the way you feel." Her eyes shone with love and acceptance.

Funny, sometimes he thought he could see his whole world in her eyes.

"Everything will be all right," she said softly. "You'll see."

He turned his head and placed a kiss in her palm, too overcome for the moment to reply.

Another movement in her belly distracted him. This time it felt like the baby rolled inside her.

Darcy grimaced and moaned softly.

"Is something wrong?"

"My back aches, and I've been having…twinges."

His heart stilled. "Is it the baby? Is it coming?"

"I think so."

"You think so?" he asked, panic rising to constrict his throat. "How long have you known?"

"Since mid-afternoon—I thought a walk might help quicken this whole thing."

"You knew you were in labor and you went for a walk alone?" This time he shouted.

"Uh-huh," Darcy admitted, a smug little smile tilting one side of her mouth. That expression looked familiar.

"Fucking hell!" I'm in a panic—and she's smirking at me! "Quick," he said, turning her to walk back to The Compound, "we need to get you to the hospital."

Darcy laughed and grabbed for his hand. "There's no rush. I've been timing the contractions."

"Timing the…contractions?" he parroted, his voice rising. "That's what I've been feeling? I thought the baby was kicking wobblers."

Another grimace crossed Darcy's face.

Quentin cursed beneath his breath. Through letting her call the shots, he lifted her into his arms and strode toward The Compound. "Not another word, ridiculous woman."

As he approached the gate, the floodlights that were set to detect motion failed to light. He slowed his steps, the hair lifting on the back of his neck.

Darcy stiffened in his arms.

"I know," he whispered, noting the lack of human guards around the perimeter. "Something's wrong."

"Put me down."

He did and quickly shoved her toward deep foliage next to the wall. "Wait here."

"Like hell!" she hissed. "What if the trouble's out here? Vamps and weres both have a great sense of smell."

"All right," he said in a clipped tone, damning himself for his carelessness. With the wind coming off the ocean, he'd found no scent to give him warning. He punched the security code on the touch pad. The lock on the gate released with a soft snick. He slipped through and held it open for Darcy.

Once inside the wall, he noted the stillness—no hint of the guards' movements, no distant murmurs of conversation. He sniffed the air and froze, finding the scent he feared most.

Wolves!

"Damn him to hell!" he gritted out, rage already hardening his body.

"Who?" Darcy said, clutching his arm.

"Our pet!" he spat. "He's brought friends."

With Darcy matching his steps behind him, Quentin crept into the courtyard, past the flowering bougainvillea and palms, past the edge of the tiled patio to peer inside the darkened living room.

Darcy shouldered her way into position beside him. "We have wolves—plural—in The Compound?"

"Stay behind me."

"But Lily," she said, a note of fear entering her voice, "they're here for Lily. We have to get to her."

"Once in the house, you will run straight for the panic room. Today, you're not a cop, Darcy. I'll take care of Lily."

"All right, but Quentin," she said, tugging at his sleeve, "this isn't Max's doing."

"Then why didn't he sound the alarm? He and Pia are supposed to be the watch tonight."

"I don't know. But I do know he couldn't do this. He wouldn't betray us."

"Be quiet now, love. Remember what I said. Get to the panic room." He opened the door and let Darcy slip past him to make an awkward dash for the stairway. The panic room was along the upper corridor. He followed behind her, facing the opposite direction, waiting for a foe to charge up the stairs and cursing the fact he hadn't brought a weapon other than the silver-bladed knife strapped to his ankle.

What had he been thinking? The weres in the area appeared to be conquered. The few stragglers of the pack that had wreaked havoc in Vero Beach had been easy to find—they'd left bloody trails in their wake.

In retrospect, they'd been too easy to find.

As Quentin braced himself for the fight of his life, his mind raced. Where were the human guards? He detected no scent of death in the air. And what of Pia and Max? If Max wasn't responsible for the breach in security, then who was?

A gasp erupted behind him, and he whirled to see three weres in varying forms of transformation creeping down the hallway toward them.

As he faced them, deep-throated snarls erupted from the wolves.

The newly installed panic room lay just beyond the three. Quentin guessed they had been about to enter, so at least he knew where Lily was.

He pushed past Darcy and shoved her against the wall, bending at the last moment to slide his knife from beneath his pant leg. "Watch for your break," he shouted.

Still crouched low, he summoned the beast inside, letting his body bulk out with just enough of the monster to even up the odds. When his shirt strained across his shoulders, he lunged at the closest of the wolves—a brindle bastard, fully transformed and nearly foaming at the mouth.

They met in midair. Quentin rolled with him, coming up on his feet after slashing deep into the wolf's neck. The next, a dark-furred cur, caught him from behind and knocked him to the ground.

Darcy shouted and a shot rang out.

Quentin couldn't look back. He kicked backward and grabbed for the muzzle locked around the top of his right shoulder. Adrenaline and rage numbed him to the pain of teeth sinking deep into muscle.

The knife traded hands, and Quentin stabbed over his shoulder, hoping to spear eyes. When the wolf broke his hold with a screeching whine, Quentin came to his knees and slammed the wolf clinging to his back against the wall, at the same time digging his right elbow into a vulnerable belly. With the stunned creature wriggling to come to its paws, Quentin slammed the blood-slick knife in its chest.

With the red haze of rage threatening to steal his intellect, Quentin pitched through the bedroom door, ready to take the next foe.

The sight that met his eyes brought a howl of pain and denial. Before the closed panic room door, Darcy lay beneath the bloody claws of a man-wolf, a gaping maw in her belly, her arms and hands nearly shredded. A gun lay on the ground beyond her feet. Darcy hadn't gone on her walk without backup after all.

Quentin's heart screamed and he crouched, ready to spring at the wolf to tear its head from its shoulders, when he saw the slightest movement of Darcy's lips.

Thank God! She still lived.

The monster's lips pulled back in an unholy grin and he held up a red, wriggling baby, its placental cord dangling from its round belly.

Quentin had only a moment to note Darcy's child was a boy with a thick cap of dark curls.

Then the creature placed the child in his mouth and completed his transformation to wolf, dropping on all fours to the floor.

The dark wolf approached him and brushed boldly past.

Quentin clenched his fists and let him pass, fighting the encroaching haze—Darcy lived. The baby was likely already infected by the bite Darcy had received, and if not, it soon would be from the saliva of the wolf using it as a hostage for safe passage out of The Compound. The baby was lost whether the beast ate it or not.

But Darcy wasn't—yet. And while she had breath, there was still a chance to save her.

He crossed the room and knelt beside her, taking her head into his lap, cupping her face between shaking palms.

Darcy's eyes fluttered open. "Quentin….the baby," she whispered, her voice thin, her breath labored. "Save the baby."

"I will, love," he lied and bent to end her life.

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

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

Leah Braemel

Lissa Matthews

Mari Carr

McKenna Jeffries

Taige Crenshaw

Vivian Arend

Ashley Ladd

HelenKay Dimon

Lauren Dane

Sasha White

Shelley Munro

TJ Michaels

A Question…

NaNo Day 4:

Viking-2—2141 words

GWB-Me—729 words

Since NaNo started on Monday, I've had my head down, hammering away at the keyboard. I'm making great headway on the Viking book. Finally had a few lightbulb moments which helped me figure out what was missing in that baggy, saggy middle of the story. I'm halfway through my short story, which hopefully will be included in the Girls Who Bite anthology—oh, wait! I'm choosing the stories for that book. Guess I shouldn't sweat it.

Yesterday, I wrote all my pages then did some research on ancient Scythia for the other novella I have to start this weekend. Busy, busy me. Hope all you NaNo'ers are making great progress too. And for you readers, I love you! Thanks so much for making this an awesome year for me.

So, onto the question…

If, instead of actually writing out your name, you now had to "sign" your name with a simple drawing of something, what would you draw each time to represent who you are?

Guest Blogger: Eliza Gayle

NaNo Day 3:

Viking-2—2035 words

GWB-Me—591 Words

Shades of the Forbidden

by Eliza Gayle

"Subspace is my perfect paradise vacation from busy-mind… blessed be to the Dominant who can stamp my ticket there." ~ Unknown

I find that writing stories that might fall in the realm of the taboo to be an exciting trip into the darker side of life. Reading them is even more fun. From the light and kinky spanking stories to the gritty and emotional dramas that make us stay up half the night to find out what happens between the hero and the heroine in the end. BDSM romance and erotica comes in so many flavors it's impossible to define it in a simple box. I've seen more than once a book is poked at for "not" being a BDSM book. Probably what they really mean is that it's not their BDSM.

Whether I write dark or light I often find myself questioning whether I went deep enough into the psychological aspect of a scene, but sometimes that's not what it's about. In a lighter story the focus is on the kink and the characters willingness to explore their sexuality with their partner. Those can sure be fun. The emotional drama of an in depth D/s relationship is an entirely different animal.

Both have their place and their fans.

Generally my contemporary stories are character driven. I only go as far to get to know my characters a little before I sit down to write. I know who they are, what they want and where they need to be. The rest is a journey of discovery as the story unfolds. My latest release, Bottoms Up, is a little more on the lighter side with some interesting forays into domestic discipline in a relationship. Versus the next release, Midnight Playground, which surprised both me and my editor with it's intensity.

Of course after angsting for a few stories about the emotional complexities of D/s, I am sooo ready to write something different and I do the genre bounce. That's me right now. I'm participating in nano this month (even though my daily word count is generally higher than what is needed for nano) and I've switched gears and headed back into the realm of my paranormals. Witches to be specific. Although I've managed to find a way to work in a little, okay maybe a lot, of D/s there too. *g*

Snooping is risky business…sometimes it pays off in unexpected ways.

Jenn has been in love with her best friend since college and despite their years apart she is determined to at least find out if he has any interest in her. When the opportunity opens up in the form of a job interview in his hometown, she jumps on a plane with a plan to see what happens.

Riley walked away from Jenn after college to explore and understand the dark side of him that harbored needs he knew she was too young to understand. They kept in touch and after years of exploration into his kinks, he's decided the time for hiding the truth from the woman he loved has come to an end.

When Jenn finds a BDSM book and a flyer for a local sex club in his condo, she is both shocked and intrigued. Riley catches her red-handed snooping through his things and dares her to give him and his lifestyle a chance. Two days to explore her potential submissive side and see where it leads.

With no hesitation and barely a thought to how far he might go, she jumps at the chance to prove she's the woman for him, even if it's just for the weekend.

Read An Excerpt

My Website

Guest Blogger: Lex Valentine

NaNo Day 2:

Viking-2—1905 words

GWB-Me—518 Words

Unfairness

By Lex Valentine

Unfairness abounds in the world we live in. Despite writing romances where there is always a Happily Ever After (HEA), I sometimes let the unfairness and cruelties of the world seep into my work. In my current release, Sunstroked, one of my heroes was closeted for most of his life because his cousin, the pack Alpha, was homophobic. In my November and December releases, unfairness has a role in each story.

Rock My World, coming November 12 from Ellora's Cave, has a stalker in it who's filled the heroine with so much fear that she lies and pushes the hero away in order to ensure he's not a target too. Afterburner, in the Honorable Silence anthology due out in November from MLR Press, is about two Air Force pilots who fall in love and must contend with the military's Don't Ask Don't Tell policy. In December, there's Unbreak Me about a magic wielding warrior who was imprisoned unfairly, suffering rapes and torture, all because someone coveted the position her father held. Also coming in December is Christmas Wishes, another short story in my annual Christmas Cowboys series. The hero has it bad for the heroine but she's older than him, a widow with a broken heart whose husband died in Afghanistan. Someone with a past that tragic isn't the kind of woman you just hit on.

Another story I recently finished (whose release date I'm unsure of) is In the Light. This is a dark tale, a short story of some 6500 words, written for my friend author Patric Michael. It will be in his anthology Wishing on a Blue Star from Dreamspinner Press. In the Light features one of my signature characters, a werewolf named Weylyn Randall. The story is about bullying and doing the right thing and the sometimes high cost of both. It's also about everlasting friendship and love. But it's not a love story nor does it have full-blown sex in it.

For those of you who know me, you'll know that no sex is a bit of an aberration. To date, the only other story I've ever written without sex is Ain't Nuthin' But a Hellhound, a dark tale in the Weirdly anthology at Wild Child Publishing. But In the Light has overtones from conversations Patric and I had and it's with a sense of profound joy that I give it to him.

As unfair as life often is, my character Weylyn brings a sense of buoyancy and fun to everything I've ever put him in. He first debuted in a serial story where I wrote prior to being published. Then I wrote him into my Pink Chair Diaries trilogy (also before I was published.) Next, he showed up in Common Ground, Tales of the Darkworld Book 5. He pops up everywhere and he's great fun for readers. For a taste of Weylyn, you can go to my website and click on the freebies page. There are links to the PCD stories which are free to read. Common Ground isn't free but I hear that the Dreamspinner anthology may be a freebie.

I combat the unfairness in life the only way I know how…with laughter. Weylyn usually brings that so he's a great read when you're feeling down. I don't have a link yet to Patric's anthology, but below are links to the other works where you can read Weylyn. A few laughs won't make unfairness in the world go away, but it makes it easier to live with. And Weylyn is a lot of hot, sexy werewolf fun!

Here's a snippet from In the Light:

Sipping his ale, Grant shot Weylyn a wry look. "You're trying to get me laid?"

Blinking in mock innocence, Weylyn said, "But of course! What else would a friend do?"

"Fuck the only guy in the bar I'm interested in."

Grant made a face and Weylyn could barely contain a laugh. He loved bantering with Grant.

"You have to bring that up again? Geez, man. You are never going to let me live that down, are you?"

"No." Grant popped a few peanuts in his mouth. "You are the only guy I know who can get laid without even trying…without even wanting to! A guy tells me he's a power bottom and asks me if I'm interested. Before I can even reply 'Hell yeah!' you've got him topping you!"

"That only happened once," Weylyn protested. "I didn't know you'd already been talking to him when I met him in the men's room."

Weylyn felt the sting of guilt. It was true that he'd ended up with more than one guy whom Grant had had his eye on. Not that he'd meant to. Every time it had happened, he hadn't known Grant was interested in the guy. His friend tended to be really low key about his sexuality and wasn't a blatant prowler like Weylyn. Grant never broadcasted his sexual preferences but Weylyn knew that he gave it away fairly easily because his gaze never followed women, only men.

"I can't believe there are Fallen Angels you haven't fucked," Grant grumbled and finished his drink. The bartender brought him another one instantly.

"Dude, I swear to you, I haven't been with that many." Weylyn tried to edge the peanuts closer to him as he watched his friend.

Grant eyed him in mock disbelief. "Still don't believe you, but I'll find out later. I'm not yet in the mood to go chatting up the men in here only to find they're one in a long list of your conquests."

"You make me sound like some kind of sexual predator."

"You are a predator. In everything you do. It's inherent in your nature as a shifter," Grant conceded. "Believe me, I understand that. Add that to the whole rock star thing you have going and you get laid without even trying."

Whew! Weylyn can certainly be a handful! If you'd like to read more Weylyn you can and some of it is free! You'll find Weylyn here:

The Were & The Chair

I'd Fuck You

If you're interested in reading more In the Light, I will post on my blog Sunlight Sucks and on my official website when and where you can get Wishing on a Blue Star (which contains work by several well-known M/M romance authors), just as soon as I have the information.

Many thanks to Delilah for letting me and Weylyn take over her blog today!

Lex Valentine

Lexvalentine.com ~ sunlightsucks.com ~ fivedarkrealms.com

First Time in Print!

NaNo Day 1:

Viking-2—2055 words

GWB-Me—784 Words

For those of you who are still addicted to the feel of a paper book in your hands, here's your chance to own three of my hottest stories in one volume!

These cowboys like the horses fast, and know exactly how to spur a woman toward her greatest pleasure…

Saddled

After rescuing a beautiful woman when her car slides into an icy creek during a snow storm, Bobby Blackhawk and Cale Yancey do the only thing two lonesome cowboys can—they take her to their isolated cabin and get naked.

Unbridled

Justin Cruz has waited a long time for this moment. He knows his bad-boy reputation, but since he seduced Rowe Ayers, he's been a one-man cowboy—waiting for pretty Dani Standifer to return and become the delicious fulfillment of his and Rowe's needs. If she's up to the challenge.

Unforgiven

For Cutter Standifer, the pretty little redhead who opened a café in Two Mule, Texas, was "the one". Until he caught her in a compromising position with the town's worst womanizer. A year later, he still can't forgive Katie Grissom. And forget? Forget, hell. He's ready to kick his code into the nearest manure pile and take what he never had from her—full satisfaction.

Click on the novella titles to read an excerpt!

Find Your Passion!

Okay, this one's been on Amazon for a couple of weeks, but today's the official release date!

"Passion delivers just what you would expect – super hot stories with sex that burns up the pages. Don't miss it!"—USA Today and Essence bestselling author Kayla Perrin

"Talk about a collection of stories to make you squirm in your seat! Chilly fall night or a quick pick-me-up to get in the mood—this is the one!"—Whipped Cream Reviews

Love and sex have always been intimately intertwined, and Passion shows just how well the two can merge. This collection of steamy stories combines rich and explicit imagery with tales of classic love, letting the best writers of erotic romance bring to life tales that can be read aloud in bed. From long lost lovers reunited to love at first sight to romance rekindled, Passion's succulent stories quicken heartbeats and appeal to everyone, from the least to the most romantic of souls.

Read an excerpt from my story, The Morning Ride:

With a schedule more predictable than the subway train she waited on, Sophie's chest constricted as though a cinch slowly tightened around her ribs. Left breathless every morning as she waited on the platform beside the tracks, her odd affliction only intensified once she boarded. The journey never varied, beginning in Upper Manhattan and continuing southward. Her body had acquired the habit, reinforced not by some psychological disorder, but by the need for one specific miracle to occur every morning as she took her usual seat along the far wall of the car.

She sat, then rose and sat again to rearrange her skirt beneath her. She pulled at the hem, and then slid it just high enough to attract attention but not so high she looked like a slut. She ignored the low "mmm-mm" from the college-aged boy with bed-head who sat beside her.

Her attention remained focused on the stations. "125th Street." She straightened her back and took a deeper breath, hoping to quell the heat entering her cheeks. "59th Street". She unwrapped her fingers from around her purse straps because her knuckles were whitening. When the car slid to a stop at 42nd, she held her breath and averted her glance from the sliding doors, watching instead from the corner of her eye as passengers stepped inside, sought their seats and settled in for their morning commute.

She saw him, or at least from the knee on down. Shiny black loafers. Knife-edged creases on his charcoal trousers. Sweeping her gaze upward, but still not looking directly, she eyed his tall, lean body, embracing the quickening tattoo of her heart. Dark hair, still glossy from his shower curled close to his scalp. The scent of aftershave, spicy and fresh, followed him, and she inhaled sharply to catch it. When he took his seat along the opposite wall and two seats down, she let out the breath she'd held, the pinpricks of darkness that had narrowed her vision to a tunnel, fading back. All was right in her world again.

Never mind, she'd spent another restless night, fighting the blankets and the dreams that left her so hot and frustrated she'd retrieved the vibrator from under her bathroom sink to take off the edge. Last night had been the best, or the worst, depending on whether she wanted to sink into the dream or cry over the fact she was tired. Even now, the potency of the dream was so strong, the details so vivid, it was easy to slide back into the moment when she'd stumbled against him as they both debarked at Chambers Street and he'd slid his hand around her waist to steady her…

He'd caught her against his chest, and she'd been forced to glance up, staring into his face fully for the first time.

"Gotcha," he said softly, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

When he didn't release her, she didn't comment, not even when people jostled past them. "I've noticed you before," she said.

"I wanted to say something, but…"

"Yeah." She pried her fingers from the lapel of his suit and backed away. His arms slid slowly from her as though he was reluctant to let her go, and she glanced up again.

He swallowed hard. "Coffee?"

She shook her head, not understanding for a moment then gasped. "Please."

Only when he pushed through the glass doors of the coffee shop he led her to, they entered a bedroom. Hers. And it was pristine for once, covers turned down. Rose petals spread across the robin's egg blue cotton sheets.

He bent to pick her up, and suddenly they were both nude. Climbing onto the mattress, he lowered her slowly to the bed. He didn't give her time to savor the moment, coming over her, a knee between her thighs, opening her.

His hand cupped her pussy, and his lips pulled away from his teeth amid tight, reddened features. "Sorry, I can't wait. Been waiting so long…"

She embraced him, pulling him closer as the round knob of his cock nudged her lips. When he thrust straight toward her womb, her back arched and her breasts tightened. A long thin moan ripped from her throat. It took only three strong thrusts before she came.

"Fuck," he muttered, then followed her, giving a muffled shout as he hammered between her legs. Even when his arousal waned, he circled inside her, hips rolling and rolling, dragging on her heated walls until she groaned and rocked against him and he was hard again.

This time, he let his weight pin her to the mattress, bracketed her face between his large palms and held her while he rubbed his lips over hers then thrust his tongue inside.

She sucked on it, the way she wanted to suck on his cock, and he must have read her mind because he groaned into her mouth and then pulled away, backing onto his knees. His cock pulsed, tapping his belly. He stared down it, then aimed a hot glance her way.

Sophie got her elbows beneath her. "Fuck my mouth."

He stepped over her until his knees were braced apart on either side of her chest, then he leaned over her, a hand against the wall as he guided his cock into her mouth.

Her tongue lapped at the smooth head. Her lips closed around the shaft, just beneath the glans and suctioned hard while he began to move in and out. Past her teeth, along her tongue, against the back of her throat. She swallowed, caressing the head.

A hand cupped the back of her head, giving her support, and his strokes quickened. "Swallow, baby. Take it," he whispered.

Her muffled mewling cries vibrated around him, and he cried out, thick surges of cum splashing at the back of her throat.

When he pulled away, he scooted down until he could bend to kiss her mouth. "Baby, that was so goddamn hot."

The dream had ended there with his wet cock digging into her belly—before they'd shared names, before they'd agreed to see each other again. Not the sort of dream she'd ever had before—or at least not so long and detailed. Like a scene from a smutty romance novel, rose petals and all.

Still, she'd been left wet, aching, and the dildo hadn't filled the empty space inside her. If only she had the courage to approach him. Maybe he'd be as sexy, well-endowed and skilled as her dream-lover—or maybe he'd be a complete dick.

Either way, she'd bring an end to this wanting.

October Wrap-up

I wish I could say I was on fire for the month of October. But if that were the case, I wouldn't be facing Hell Month.

True, I lost several days to a trip to Ohio for Romanticon, which I thoroughly enjoyed. Still, when memories fade and I'm staring at the word count I have to achieve in November, I wish I'd cloned myself before I took that trip.

High points?

* I have tentative acceptance for a short story for a paperback erotica collection I can't name at the moment.

* My next MIK story, A Long Howl Good Night, released!

* I completed a new short story and shipped it the editor of the collection.

* I completed the latest installment of Bad Moon Rising and posted it on my free story page.

November will be a stress-fest!

* I have to write the next 49,000 words of Viking-2

* I have to write 15,000 words of a Bite for Harlequin Nocturne

* I have to write 4,000 words of a short AND the foreword for Girls Who Bite

* I have to finish reading, selecting, and editing the stories for Girls Who Bite, then ship the collection to Cleis

Sound like I have enough on my plate? Nuff said, I think.

Happy Halloween/Sunday Report Card

Okay, so that was my annually resurrected Pumpkin Butt picture. Happy Halloween!

Do you sense a note of "Bah! Humbug!"? That's because I don't have time to go play. November's Hell Month.

Like I've said before. I have three books due on December 1st. So, I have to hunker down and "get 'er done" (*gagging* I may have lived in Texas but that phrase makes me cringe).

What am I doing to make sure I get there?

I've gone no mail on most of my loops because I'm getting ready to drop off the face of the earth for 30 days. Not that I won't still be here. Blogging is so ingrained. It was a hard habit to make, but now it's like getting up to pee first thing in the morning.

I've joined National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) again this year. See the blue calendar icon on the left? If ever you see red on any of those days—get on my ass!! It means, I failed to meet goal. And if you're a writer and planning to NaNo too, here's my profile page so you can friend me and nag me up close and personal. I'll do the same for you. Delilah's NaNo

I have most of the family on board with the idea that I am crawling into a hole and only coming up for air when I can't stand the smell or need something to feed the engine. Most, I said, because I still have to contend with kids.

I have stocked up on teas and coffee. Have a box of energy drinks stored next to my fridge.

My desk and office are clean, ready for that starting gunshot…

So, you want to know how I actually plan to get 75,000 words on the page (most NaNo'ers are going for 50,000) by the end of the month? By writing 2500 words every damn day, come rain or shine. And if I knock 'em out in the morning, I can actually spend some time doing something lazy. But if I screw around, or get covered up in kids, I'll be up late, sucking on Red Bull.

I'll be back later tonight with my monthly wrap-up.