Delilah Devlin's Blog, page 98

Word Puzzle — Chocolate covered…

I struggled with a theme for today’s puzzle. My mind is on the work I have to complete. So, I reached out on Facebook for suggestions, and author A. Catherine Noon suggested chocolate. So, I could have gone with candy bar names, types of chocolate, but my mind when straight to things you can cover in chocolate that are delicious! And yes, a mild cheese coated in chocolate is very, very delicious! Have fun with the puzzle.

For a chance to win a $5 Amazon gift card, give me some more suggestions for yummy goodness! Do you have a favorite combination? I love orange + chocolate.

The post Word Puzzle — Chocolate covered… first appeared on Delilah Devlin.

National Compliment Day! (Contest)

Well, I’m back with another obscure holiday! I love this one! And I’ve already paid two compliments today. Do I have you beat?

Yes, this holiday is a thing. NCD promotes—civility! That’s not a bad word, folks. It’s a way to brighten those around you and make you feel good knowing you made someone happy. A win-win! How did I accomplish mine? The two younger girls, 14 and 9-years-old, took time with their appearance this morning. The 9-year-old dressed up like a little old lady for a school dress-up day, and I told her she was the cutest little old lady I’d ever seen “The pearls really nailed it!” The 14-year-old dressed in all black like she normally does, but she’d taken time to straighten her hair, and I really do love her Sublime band T-shirt, so I told her she looked awesome. “Love that shirt!”

Actually, I have four compliments so far. My daughter worked on memes to advertise events at our art center, and I told her the memes were terrific. Pitch-perfect.

See how easy it is to work compliments in? If you’re going to work, compliment something about someone’s appearance. “I love your earrings.” Compliment their work. “Great work on that…” Easy. Going to grocery store? Compliment the cashier. “I know your feet must hurt, but you have a very nice smile. Thank you.” Yes, I do this anyway. (Yes, I’m that annoying person!) Can’t help myself. It’s a habit I don’t want to break. Do you think you could make complimenting folks around you a habit?

For a chance to win a $5 Amazon gift card, tell me how you plan to work compliments into your day!

The post National Compliment Day! (Contest) first appeared on Delilah Devlin.

Genevive Chamblee: The Season of Mardi Gras

Some things we take for granted. For example, it wasn’t until approximately a year ago that I realized that white perch wasn’t sold in grocery stores or fish markets—at least, not legally. And it wasn’t until a friend made a passing comment that alerted me to the fact. It wasn’t anything new, though. I simply had never taken the time to pay attention. Why? Because, whenever I wanted perch, we just fished it out of the bayou. I’d never attempted to purchase it, and never gave thought to it not being sold. After all, it’s not like there’s a shortage of white perch. Since I always had access to the fish, I assumed (and we all know what is said about assuming anything) that everyone had the same access. Wrong!

“Assuming” is the reason for this post. Yeah, I know white perch has nothing to do with Mardi Gras, but in the tangled convolutions of that thing I call a brain, I connected the two. See, growing up in South Louisiana, I assumed (once again) that everyone knew about Mardi Gras… That is, until I started hearing some strangeness that caused me to raise an eyebrow. I mean, South Louisiana isn’t the only place to celebrate Mardi Gras (which, by the way, most refer to as carnival). Yet, I’ve come to discover that there are many misconceptions about what Mardi Gras is and why it’s celebrated.

Now, I’ve tackled this subject before on my Creole Bayou blog, but since Mardi Gras season just kicked off on January 6, I thought it would be appropriate to do a brief refresher for those interested. If you’re interested in the importance of January 6, please visit my post, Is It Mardi Gras Yet? for a deep dive into it. This post will focus on an overview of the basics of Carnival. Let’s jump-start this with answer the question: What is Mardi Gras? To answer this question, I must explain the translation of the term Mardi Gras and define Carnival.

The term Mardi Gras is French. Mardi means Tuesday, and Gras means fat. Hence, translated Mardi Gras means Fat Tuesday. Simple enough, right? Here is where some of the confusion begins. While many people use the term Mardi Gras to refer to the entire season, the actual Mardi Gras or Fat Tuesday is one day out of the season. In fact, it is the last day of the season. Specifically, it is the Tuesday before Ash Wednesday. (This fact is important, and I’ll circle back to this.) The season or period of time that people begin celebrating is much longer. In 2023, the Mardi Gras season began on January 6th and will end on February 21st. February 21st is Fat Tuesday. Thus, linguistically, it does not make much logic to refer to a period of forty-five days (January 6 to February 20th) by the name of a singular day. Fat Tuesday is also referred to as Shrove Tuesday.

The celebration begins with parades, parties, and balls. The definition for carnival is a period of public revelry at regular times each year involving dancing, masquerades, music, parades, and processions. The season of Mardi Gras begins with balls, parades, and parties. Referring to the “Mardi Gras season” as Carnival is appropriate. (It’s a lot simpler to differentiate if a person is discussing the specific day or the entire season.) Thus, Carnival is the season, and Mardi Gras is the last day (Fat Tuesday). Fat Tuesday is also known as Shrove Tuesday.

Carnival is the season of festivities that stem from the Roman Catholic tradition and celebration of Lent. (I’ll discuss Lent in a moment.) As previously mentioned several times, Carnival begins on January 6, which is the Feast of Epiphany. However, this feast day has many names including the Twelfth Night, Three Kings Day, or the Twelfth Day of Christmas. Carnival is a time of celebration, feasting, fun, and parties before the beginning of Lent when the abstaining begins. Lent begins with the Catholic holy day of obligation Ash Wednesday. However, I must pause here to mention that Catholicism is not the only religion that recognizes and/or celebrates Lent.

Lent is the six-week period of forty days (not including Sundays) that precedes Easter. It is a solemn time when Christians prepare for the passion, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. Lent derives its name from the blessing of palm leaf ashes that have been used in the celebration of the Christian holy day of Palm Sunday. The palm leaves are burned, and the ashes are placed on the forehead of celebrants by a priest to denote their period of fasting, reflection, and penance. During Lent, Christians engage in fasting and abstinence as a remembrance of Jesus’ sacrifice. So, how does all of this tie in together?

NOTE: Some historians that argue that Mardi Gras originated from a pagan tradition. During this pagan tradition, a fat ox was paraded while onlookers indulged in binge drinking and eating. Other historians argue that Shrove Tuesday originated from the pagan celebrations of Lupercalia and Saturnalia, which celebrated fertility and spring.

While Lent is said to be the preparation for Easter, Carnival is the preparation for Lent. Working backward, this is how the two are connected. The simplest way to clarify how Lent and Carnival are related is to take a historical look at Lent. Since Lent is a period of abstinence and fasting, Christians would remove from their household (on Ash Wednesday) any items they would abstain from during the Lenten period. Frequently, the items removed included food. Many of the food items were fatty or caused one to become fat (e.g., meats, sweets, and alcohol). Now, remember, Lent lasts forty days, and food (even in those days) was expensive. So, instead of tossing out these items, early Christians had to consume or use them prior to Ash Wednesday. In this regard, Carnival is sort of like having a bachelor or bachelorette party the night before the wedding. It’s the last hoorah! Due to these types of overindulgent celebrations occurring the day prior to the beginning of Lent, it gained the nickname of Fat Tuesday, which stuck.

As mentioned previously, Shrove Tuesday is another term for Fat Tuesday. The term Shove Tuesday provides another aspect of the Mardi Gras season. The word “shrove” derives from the word “shrive”, which means to absolve. More specifically, it means to give absolution after hearing a confession. On this day, early Christians would confess their sins to a priest and receive absolution as part of their preparation for Lent.

So, all of this sounds simple enough until one looks at a calendar. If Carnival begins on the Epiphany which is always celebrated on January 6th, it would seem that Easter would also be the same day each year. However, this is not the case. This is because Easter is celebrated the first Sunday after the first full moon occurring on or after the March Equinox. There are two equinoxes (the length of the day and night that are nearly equal due to the sun shining directly on the equator) every year. The first equinox occurs in March, and the second occurs in September. These are not fixed dates. The date of Fat Tuesday is set according to the date of Ash Wednesday which is based on the date Easter Sunday is celebrated by the Orthodox Christian churches. This means that Carnival can last anywhere from four to eight weeks. Now, is there a parade every day? No. The big stuff happens the week leading to Ash Wednesday, but the celebration begins long before then.

Okay, so now we’re on the last stretch.

Most people associate the colors purple, green, and gold with Mardi Gras, but not everyone knows why. These colors are not random. On the contrary, they are symbolic—like almost every other aspect of Mardi Gras. The parades have meaning. The beads have meaning. The costumes have meaning. The masks have meaning. Even the torches have meaning. But in all fairness, there is a bit of randomness and buffoonery thrown in as well. However, the colors have legit meanings. Purple is a symbol of justice and royalty. Green is a symbol of faith, and gold is a symbol of prestige and power.

So, there it is: the quick and dirty about Mardi Gras. Now, it’s your turn to sound off. What did you think? Did you find this information helpful or informative? Did you learn anything new? Let me know your thoughts in the comment section. If you’re interested in more content on Mardi Gras, Creole culture, Cajun culture, or southern living, I have lots more content on my blog and website. If you’re not following me on Creole Bayou blog, what are you waiting for? There’s always room at the bayou. Also, if you like this post, please click the like button and share it. Your feedback allows me to know the content that you want to read.

Get ready. It’s almost time to hit the ice again. Future Goals Coming soon.

Future Goals

When a college hockey player needs the help of an attractive older attorney, he gets more than he bargained for when trying to sort out the troubles in his career. Falling in love was never part of either man’s plan, especially as Corrigan’s and Sacha’s lives should never have collided. Now they’re left questioning if they’re standing in the way of the other’s future goals, or if there’s room for redirection.

Preorder your copy at:
Amazon: https://amzn.to/3RjPYb9
Other booksellers: https://bit.ly/3CI8d5W

Missed the first four books in my hockey romance series? No frets.

Out of the Penalty Box (book #1), where it is one minute in the box or a lifetime out, is available at http://amzn.to/2Bhnngw. It also can be ordered on iTunes, Nook, or Kobo. For more links on where to purchase or to read the blurb, please visit http://bit.ly/2i9SqpH.

Defending the Net (book #2) can be ordered at https://amzn.to/2N7fj8q or www.books2read.com/defending. Crossing the line could cost the game.

Ice Gladiators (book #3) is the third book in my Locker Room Love series. When the gloves come off, the games begin. Available at https://amzn.to/2TGFsyD or www.books2read.com/icegladiators.

Penalty Kill (book #4) retakes the ice. Get a copy at https://amzn.to/3ex0N9p or https://amzn.to/3ex0N9p and let the pucker begin.

For more of my stories, shenanigans, giveaways, and more, check out my blog, Creole Bayou, www.genevivechambleeconnect.wordpress.com. New posts are made on Wednesdays, and everything is raw and unscathed. Climb on in a pirogue and join me on the bayou.

If you have any questions or suggestions about this post or any others, feel free to comment below or tweet me at @dolynesaidso. You also can follow me on Instagram at genevivechambleeauthor or search for me on Goodreads or Amazon Authors or BookBub or TikTok.

NEWSLETTER! Want to get the latest information and updates about my writing projects, giveaways, contests, and reveals first? Click https://genevivechambleeconnect.wordpress.com/newsletter/ and signup today.

Until next time, happy reading and much romance. Laissez le bon temps rouler.

About the Author

Genevive Chamblee resides in the bayou country where sweet tea and SEC football reign supreme. She is known for being witty (or so she thinks), getting lost anywhere beyond her front yard (the back is pushing it as she’s very geographically challenged), falling in love with shelter animals (and she adopts them), asking off-the-beaten-path questions that makes one go “hmm”, and preparing homecooked Creole meals that are as spicy as her writing. Genevive specializes in spinning steamy, romantic tales with humorous flair, diverse characters, and quirky views of love and human behavior. She also is not afraid to delve into darker romances as well.

The post Genevive Chamblee: The Season of Mardi Gras first appeared on Delilah Devlin.

Most Anticipated Movies — See trailer for RENFIELD! (Contest–and Open Contests)

I love movies. I’m sure a lot of you do, too. My tastes are “low brow.” I could care less about movies that win Oscars because of their “important” stories. I want to be entertained. Plus, I LOVE so-called “B-movies.” The more improbable and campier, the more I love them. I watched and waited in eager anticipation for every new Sharknado film. (My family did viewing parties!) I loved Eight Legged Freaks. Die Hard is my all-time favorite film. I’ve watched it over twenty times, I’m sure.

So, when I say I’m on the edge of my seat waiting for Renfield, you know it’s probably not the best movie ever made, but it hits me in all the feels—ridiculously over-the-top, funny, NICK CAGE, vampires… Do you remember Vampire’s Kiss with Cage when we weren’t entirely sure if he was becoming a vampire or was nuts? I loved, loved that movie. Now, he’s back as Dracula!

Watch the trailer!

 

And wow, the guy from Warm Bodies, Nicholas Hoult, (another favorite film of mine) is the main character! I can’t wait for its release on April 14th!

For a chance to win a $5 Amazon GC, tell me whether Renfield is something you’re eager to see. Also, share your favorite B-movie picks!

Open ContestsA. Catherine Noon: Letters from Far Away (Contest) — This one ends soon! Win a hand-painted postcard!How my January is going so far… (Contest–2 Winners!) — This one ends soon! Win a hand-painted bookmark!Saturday’s Puzzle-Contest: All I want is a decent cup… — Win an Amazon gift card!Gabbi Black: When You Flip a Trop on its Head (Contest) — Win an Amazon gift card!TV Series Finale Rant & the Saturday Puzzle! (Contest) — Win an Amazon gift card!The post Most Anticipated Movies — See trailer for RENFIELD! (Contest–and Open Contests) first appeared on Delilah Devlin.

TV Series Finale Rant & the Saturday Puzzle! (Contest)

Well, I’m up at O-dark-thirty again. Dratted insomnia. I don’t ever fight it. So, this morning I went ahead and made a cup of coffee and headed in the dark to my computer. The house is quiet; I can Google without feeling guilty. LOL. So, yeah, I’m how old? Self-employed? And I still feel guilty not “working” when I power up.

I went to bed a little early for me last night feeling a little angry. Why? The ending of Star Trek: Enterprise! I’ve been binge-watching the older series for a while now. Next Generation, Deep Space Nine, Voyager. All were unique but the same. Know what I mean? I was comfortable with the progression. Enterprise was uncomfortable from the beginning. I liked the idea of it happening before Kirk and was intrigued with the idea of watching “the first” Enterprise begin the star-trekking adventures.

**WARNING SPOILERS**

Problems? I didn’t like the captain. Over the seasons, Captain Archer seemed…a bit irritated and sometimes too aggressive. While I’d found Janeway annoying the first season of Voyager, I came to admire her (after the “Rambo” episode, I loved her). Archer never had that moment where I came to accept his personality. I struggled through the first season, but the show caught me in the second. I loved the evolution of the conflict with the Xindi, and it was odd, but my favorite castmate wasn’t a “regular”. He was a frequent guest—an Andorian commander in the Imperial Guard named Shran. Over the 4 seasons, I actually found him and his mobile antennae to be quite sexy.

He had a fiery temper, was stubborn, but at heart he was an honorable alien male who loved deeply.

And what did they do to his character in the finale? They made him a criminal! I wanted to see him as an ambassador, having moved up the chain of command through his heroism and good deeds. Nope.

And what else did they do in that finale? They killed my favorite regular cast member, Trip. He never got his HEA with T’Pol—even after they lost their child and all the years they yearned for each other. In fact, the finale fast forwarded years and said they’d broken up six years prior. WTF?

Yeah. I’m not happy. And now, I have to start into the newer Trek series and hope the Powers that Be redeemed themselves. Okay, deep breath. That’s the end of my rant.

Tell me, have you ever been fighting mad over the ending of a series? Tell me about it for a chance to win a $5 Amazon gift card! 

Saturday Puzzle

Following my Star Trek rant, here’s a picture of what my imagined first encounter would look like. Enjoy the puzzle!

The post TV Series Finale Rant & the Saturday Puzzle! (Contest) first appeared on Delilah Devlin.

N.J. Walters: Brand New Year, Brand New Book — Hunter Avenged! (Excerpt)

The start of a new year is always exciting. The possibilities are limitless. It’s a time for introspection, for deciding what you want to accomplish in the coming year.

I don’t make resolutions, as such, but I do set some achievable goals. Professionally, I want to write at least three or four books, maybe more. Personally, I want to try my hand at a new hobby or two. If I decide it’s not for me, that’s all good. The goal is to push myself to try something different.

The new year is starting out on a high note with the release of HUNTER AVENGED, book 6 of my Forgotten Brotherhood series. I LOVE these immortal assassins. They aren’t the monsters lurking under the bed. They’re the ones that kill them. It takes one very special woman to win their heart.

So, what happens when Rivka, an angelic librarian on the run from Heavenly forces, is tracked by Sven—immortal Viking, deadly assassin, and one of the Forgotten Brotherhood? It’s not only their lives that are in danger but their hearts.

Hunter Avenged
Forgotten Brotherhood Book 6

It’s taken Viking hunter Sven Knutson six frustrating months to find her. To track down the angel responsible for compromising the Forgotten Brotherhood and waking the drakon. She may be clever. Resourceful. But no one ever gets away from Sven. Ever.

All Rivka longed for as an angel was a chance to serve on Earth and help humans. Instead, it all went impossibly, horribly wrong, and she still doesn’t understand how or even why. All she knows is that she’s on the run—not only from Heaven’s dangerous elite guard, but also from the Brotherhood, who want answers.

She might just have to trust the immortal Viking whose icy blue eyes make her feel almost wickedly human. Because someone wants Rivka dead and the Brotherhood eliminated. Someone powerful enough to take on the most dangerous assassins who have ever lived. Someone who could unleash the fury of both Heaven and Hell…and Rivka is the key.

Excerpt from Hunter Avenged…

His jaw and cheekbones were chiseled, his forehead high. The short cut of his hair added to the austerity of his features. There was no gentleness to be found. The leather coat he wore added to the rough image, made him seem even more imposing. A chill raced down her spine. This man would be a relentless opponent. He also wasn’t human, but she couldn’t tell what he was.

Time to leave.

Face tight, she tried to smile, knew it must appear fake, but it was the best she could manage. “If there’s nothing else, I have to get back to my tables.”

Her legs were shaky, her heart racing. This must be what a rabbit felt like when faced with a wolf. Running would be a mistake. He hadn’t moved a muscle, but the sense of being hunted was overwhelming.

Hunted.

You got this. You’ve gotten yourself out of tighter situations.

The reassurance did nothing to calm her. Sweat rolled down her spine even as a chill raised goose bumps on her arms. Spinning around, she’d taken a single step when he wrapped his hand around her wrist, chaining her in place. Heat spread out from where he held her, sliding up her arm.

“There is something else.” His deep voice slid inside her like hot fudge over ice cream, melting all resistance. It was startling to realize it was the first words he’d spoken. She’d done all the talking up until now.

Just take his order and leave. “What do you want?” It was a point of pride that her voice was level. Inside she was trembling like a leaf; not all of it was due to fear. Her attraction to him was unwanted but undeniable. It rather took her by surprise.

He rubbed his thumb over the pounding pulse in her wrist. The gentle action was at odds with the tension in his jaw.

“Your name. I want your name.”

*~*~*

Want to read more? Find Hunter Avenged here:
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BMYKZQ2T/
Entangled Publishing: https://entangledpublishing.com/books/hunter-avenged
B&N: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/hunter-avenged-n-j-walters/1142718008
Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/hunter-avenged-2
iBooks: https://books.apple.com/us/book/hunter-avenged/id6444414711
Google Play: https://play.google.com/store/books/details/N_J_Walters_Hunter_Avenged?id=zPqcEAAAQBAJ

About the Author

N.J. Walters is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author who has always been a voracious reader, and now she spends her days writing novels of her own. Vampires, werewolves, dragons, assassins, time-travelers, seductive handymen, and next-door neighbors with smoldering good looks—all vie for her attention. It’s a tough life, but someone’s got to live it.

Visit her at:
Website: http://www.njwalters.com
Blog: http://www.njwalters.blogspot.com
Newsletter Sign Up: http://eepurl.com/gdblg5
Facebook Author Page: https://www.facebook.com/N.J.WaltersAuthor
Twitter: https://twitter.com/njwaltersauthor
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/NJWalters
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/author/njwalters
BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/n-j-walters

The post N.J. Walters: Brand New Year, Brand New Book — Hunter Avenged! (Excerpt) first appeared on Delilah Devlin.

My Favorite Pasta Recipe — Ravioletti & Sun-dried Tomatoes!

So, a couple of weeks ago, I asked y’all to tell me what you wanted to see on my blog. You apparently like everything I’m doing, but someone mentioned they’d love to see recipes, too! So, I’m sharing the dish I make (I don’t have a huge repertoire) that my family loves. It’s super simple. And you don’t have to measure, just throw things in.

First, I set a pot of water boiling on the stove with a couple of dashes of olive oil and a shake of sea salt. When it starts to bubble—don’t wait until it’s fully boiling—go ahead and throw in your ravioli. We like cheese ravioletti, the little raviolis, better. And because we like leftovers, I make three boxes at a time. Two would actually be enough, but again—leftovers! Here’s the link on Amazon to the box we like: Ravioletti. It takes about 15 minutes to cook. I start testing them around 12 minutes. You don’t want them too soggy. I like a little chewiness.

As soon as the ravioletti is cooking, take out a fry pan, heat it with a shake of olive oil in the bottom, and then combine these ingredients in the pan:

diced onions to your taste (I use half of a medium onion)a jar of sun-dried tomatoes in olive oil, chopped. This is the jar I love: Sun-dried Tomatoes.a heaping tablespoon of minced garlic (not the dried kind–we use the stuff in the jar)a packet of pine nutsseveral hard shakes of oregano and basil; a little sea saltYes, the sun-dried tomatoes have their own olive oil, but add maybe a tablespoon more of olive oil

Once the onions are translucent, add a bunch of fresh spinach. I usually get one of those large containers in the salad section of the supermarket. I add enough it’s almost to the top of the deep frying pan I use. It’s not too much because it reduces to nothing when it’s cooked. Once the spinach is reduced, turn off the stove and set the pan aside.

When the ravioletti is done, drain it, then combine both pans into a large bowl and mix it up.

Serve it with parmesan cheese. I add pepper to mine.

Here, my daughter made some homemade focaccia bread to go with the pasta. So, delicious!

Now, if I were making this dish for myself, I’d add artichoke hearts! It’s sooooo good in this dish, but my family hates artichokes.

If you try it, I’d love to hear how you liked it! Also, let me know if you’d like more recipes!

The post My Favorite Pasta Recipe — Ravioletti & Sun-dried Tomatoes! first appeared on Delilah Devlin.

Gabbi Black: When You Flip a Trop on its Head (Contest)

Hello Delilah!

Thank you for hosting me again. I’m thrilled to drop by and talk about my latest charity anthology — The Billionaire Fling.  I love doing these because I don’t get out much, so volunteering is off the table, for the most part.  And I make charitable donations, but I often feel disconnected from those.  Actually sitting down and writing a story makes everything more connected.  More really. The bonus is I get to work with a fantastic team and 19 amazing other authors in support of a cause I believe in.  Most people have been touched by breast cancer.  As we age, there’s an inevitability to this.  For me, my dear aunt Heather had it.  She fought — and won — but I’d love to see a day where we can prevent this devastating illness. Or where the treatments aren’t nearly as toxic and debilitating.  Anyway, my aunt’s going strong, ten years into remission.  I hope she’s with us for a long time to come.

Okay, great, Gabbi…but you said something about tropes?

Fair enough.

I’ve only written one billionaire story — Beautiful Eyes — and I didn’t market it as such.  Sure, the hero has earned over a billion dollars.  But he says it casually.  And, he doesn’t throw money around to impress other people.  He uses his money for good.  He doesn’t live flamboyantly, and he’s humbled when facing true poverty and deprivation.  In that book, the BDSM and relationship between the hero and heroine are far more central to the story.

When I sat down to write my new story, Grant’s Gambit, I took a similar approach — the money is truly secondary in the story.  My hero and heroine have just partaken in an intense cathartic BDSM scene (off page).  This story is their journey of discovery into what it means when all the barriers have been brought down.  About how learning to trust after such a powerful scene can have a lasting impact.  Oh, and one of the characters happens to be rich.  Lisa’s family recently sold their media empire and she’s got a billion or two in the bank.

That’s where the trope flipping happens.  I wanted my story to be different. I wanted a female billionaire.  Lisa’s a character I’ve used before (she’s also a Domme — another bit of a flip).  She wields a whip and flogger with finesse.  She can also bring grown men to their knees — literally and figuratively.  With Grant’s permission, she does this with him. What’s left is the beginning of a long-term relationship (okay, they’re totally together forever).  Yes, this is sort of instalove.  Or not.  They’ve circled each other for a year at Club Kink, the BDSM club.  Each knows what they’re getting.  Or so they believe.  Grant’s an electrician.  Lisa’s a professional Domme.  Grant makes it clear he’s got no issues with her continuing with that work.  Her little bombshell of the newly inherited money means nothing to him.  He plans to go to work on Monday.  The only change he foresees in his life is that he’s finally found the courage to tell Lisa how he really feels about her.

Oh, and there’s a cat and a surprise behind a locked door.

All that — crammed into five thousand words.

My fellow authors have all written stories meant to entertain.  And we’ve all done it with the hope of raising money for a worthy cause. (And I’m thrilled to say my heroine isn’t the only woman billionaire!)

I hope your readers will take a chance and pick up The Billionaire Fling.

And, as a thank you for hosting me, I’m happy to give away a $5 Amazon Gift Card.  To the readers — what’s your favorite trope?  Even better, which would you like to see an author flip on its head? (Hint — I might just take your suggestion for my next charity story…)  Finally, I’ve got a new book coming out in March — so I’ll be back! (More trope flipping to come…)

The Billionaire Fling

Champagne, sports cars, private jets: these powerful billionaires can buy everything but love.

With the world at their command, how will they cope with the one person who wants their heart, not their money?

Strap on your red sole stilettos, pop open the champagne, and dive into our billionaires’ glittering happily ever afters.

Twenty titillating stories from USA Today best-selling and award-winning romance authors in a spicy billionaire collection curated by The New Romance Cafe, with ALL proceeds going to the Breast Cancer Research Foundation.

Authors:
Celia J. Lisbeth
DL Gallie
Emmy Dee
Gabbi Black
Heather Scarlett
JA Lafrance
Jackie Paxson
Janie Grey
Kat Parrish
Kathleen Ryder
Keighley Bradford
Kenna Shaw Reed
Kristine Charles
Molly Lachaussee
Nikita Bloom
Stacy-Deanne
Susan Horsnell
TL Hamilton
Toni Denise
Whimsy Nimsy

Grant’s Gambit by Gabbi Black

Mistress Miranda, after one of her most magnificent BDSM scenes, plans to relax and unwind in the safety of her luxury condo, high above her beloved city of Vancouver. She has rules about how intimate she’ll be with a submissive, and she plans to stick to those edicts.

Grant Adkins willingly submitted to the formidable Domme tonight. And she’d topped him in a fantastic cathartic scene. But he’s not ready to call it a night just yet. He’s breaking the rules by following her home, but he wants to have just one more encounter. Then he’ll let her go.

But when things heat up, his walking away in the morning feels far more difficult than either planned.

Grant’s Gambit is an erotic 5k short story with elements of BDSM, a cathartic scene, and a surprise pile of money.

Links:
Universal link:  https://books2read.com/u/3n5Nro
Amazon US:  https://www.amazon.com/Billionaire-Fling-Contemporary-Romance-Collection-ebook/dp/B0B1Z7QX2M
Add it to GoodReads:  https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/61161998-the-billionaire-fling

About the Author

Even though Gabbi Black is a firm believer in happy endings, she makes her characters work for it in every romance she writes, no matter what the genre. From contemporary to BDSM, they are penned early in the morning in her home in beautiful British Columbia while her trusty ChinPoo dog keeps her company. She also writes gay romances as Gabbi Grey and contemporary small-town romances as Gabbi Powell.

Personal links:
Website:   http://gabbiblack.com/
Newsletter sign-up:  https://sendfox.com/gabbi
Bookbub:  https://www.bookbub.com/profile/2763198834
Instagram:  https://www.instagram.com/authorgabbiblack/
Facebook (page): https://www.facebook.com/Author-Gabbi-Black-106666354460589/
Pinterest:  https://www.pinterest.ca/authorgabbiblack/boards/
Twitter:  https://twitter.com/GabbiAuthor

The post Gabbi Black: When You Flip a Trop on its Head (Contest) first appeared on Delilah Devlin.

Meet Mica! (Plus, Open Contests–MANY Open Contests!)

If you didn’t already know, I’m fast at work on my next Montana Bounty Hunter story, Mica. It’s scheduled for release on February 28th.

I’m having fun with the story, I hope you will too. Naturally, we meet our hero in the middle of a takedown of a skip. I love dropping my heroes and heroines in the middle of the action. Action scenes fly by fast, and there are so many things that can go wrong. I hope you enjoy meeting Mica. He hasn’t met his love interest yet, but she will make a big impression.

Be sure to get to the end of this post. I have a big ole list of contests you still have time to enter!

Montana Bounty Hunters: Dead Horse, Montana — Mica

MONTANA BOUNTY HUNTERS:
DEAD HORSE, MT
Authentic Men… Real Adventures…

Mica Ford wasn’t one to hold grudges. At least not these days. Grudges required fury and bile, and he’d had his fill of pointless anger and heartburn.

However, he was beginning to get a bit perturbed by the crew of bounty hunters working out of an office in Dead Horse, Montana. This was the third time they’d crept into one of his stakeouts. Twice now, he’d had to withdraw from a takedown and let them score his target. There were just too many of them, and again, he hadn’t wanted a dustup, wasn’t looking for a fight. But this time, he’d be damned if he let them scoop a third bounty right from under his nose.

This time, his target was one Norman P. Rudd. The bounty was high enough that Mica could live off the proceeds for a good four months. According to the bail bond company’s description, Norman had failed to appear before the judge to begin his trial for numerous charges stemming from an incident where Norman had gone “postal” on a neighbor whose political campaign posters didn’t share his flavor of affiliation.

Norman hadn’t stopped at simply pulling up the neighbor’s signs and burning them in a bonfire in the middle of the man’s front yard. No, he’d taken a tree branch, set the end on fire, and then torched his neighbor’s house and RV and then set wood he’d stacked beside a propane tank on fire. The explosion from the tank had rattled and broken windows throughout the neighborhood, including Norman’s. Even before the firetrucks and police arrived, the neighbor had pulled in front of his house, jumped out of his pickup, and the two men had entered into a brawl. The neighbor had been horrified by the damage to his home and belongings, but worse, his favorite blue tick hound had been locked inside the house when it was set on fire.

The house and RV? Mica wouldn’t have bothered to do more than shake his head and collect the insurance—belongings didn’t matter much, and you couldn’t take them with you when you left this world, but he could understand someone goin’ loco over the murder of a four-legged best friend. For that alone, Norman was a piece of shit who deserved to spend the rest of his days in jail. However, since he’d lost his mind and fired up his neighbor’s property, Norman had proven himself to be a bit smarter, evading police and bounty hunters while hiding out in the Absaroka Range. Mica couldn’t guess his intentions, but he suspected Norman thought he could hopscotch through mountains and forests to hide out there for a while until he lost some weight and grew a beard—something to disguise his ugly, memorable features. His mistake had been coming in for a night to shower and sleep in a soft bed.

Mica had tracked him to a motel in Belgrade, Montana. The night manager had just confirmed that someone of Norman’s broad build had indeed rented a room at the end of the building. He’d asked for menus from restaurants that offered delivery, then he’d kept quiet, not budging from his room.

Mica had already walked the perimeter of the building and tried peeking into the room, but the curtains were pulled closed and the frosted glaze on the bathroom window behind the building didn’t allow him to make out anything other than the fact there was a light turned on inside the room.

Before he could bust in the door, he had to know that Norman was inside. So, he’d hunkered down in his truck, waiting for his break, hoping Norman ordered food before the last restaurant closed for the night.

He watched through his tinted windows as another SUV and a truck pulled into the lot. He groaned when he saw the female hunter, Marti of naked-body-shop-video fame, enter the motel office. When she’d come out, she’d scanned the parking lot, and her gaze had locked on his vehicle.

So, she knew someone else was on Norman’s trail. Mica snorted. They might have the advantage of more hunters to enter the chase, but he had the better vantage, parked right in front of Norman’s room while they had to park farther down the row.

A small compact sedan entered the lot. It had a lighted sign on top of it, advertising Papa Ralph’s Pizza. So, Norman wasn’t starting his diet anytime soon. The sedan moved slowly down the row of parking spaces, then stopped right behind Mica’s vehicle. A car door slammed, and a lanky teenager ran toward the door, carrying an insulated pizza delivery bag that looked like it held two pizza boxes. Mica partially lowered his driver’s side window so he could listen as he watched the kid knock on the motel room door.

The lights inside doused. The kid stiffened and backed away a step, his head turning side to side like he was unsure of his safety.

The door creaked open, and a hand stuck out of the narrow space with bills clutched in it. The kid reached for the bills and moved back another step as he counted. Then he thrust his hand into his jacket pocket and pulled out a wallet. “I’ve got your change, sir.”

“Keep it,” came the muffled reply. The hand shot out again, and the teen opened the delivery bag and slid out two boxes of pizza, steam rising from the cardboard boxes.

Mica leaned forward waiting for the door to widen. When it did, Norman P. Rudd’s chubby cheeks, thick eyebrows, and lips were illuminated in the golden light of the motel’s outdoor lighting.

“Gotcha,” Mica whispered. As the door slammed shut and the kid walked away muttering about weirdos, Mica hit the button on his glove box and pulled his Glock from inside. Then he slipped from his truck and ran for the brick wall beside the motel room door.

Footsteps scraped behind him, and he gritted his teeth, not bothering to turn around because he knew what he’d find if not specifically whom.

“You about tired of us poaching your targets?” came a deep-timbered drawl from behind him.

Mica cast a glance toward a man whose face was shadowed by his cowboy hat. “Just about,” he said, keeping his tone even.

“He’s yours—unless you need our help.”

“Just stay back.” He had no reason to disbelieve that the bounty hunters wouldn’t poach if he could take Norman into custody on his own. They had a decent reputation among other hunters. Their cable TV show might raise eyebrows and smirks, but Mica had to admit they seemed to know their shit.

He reached out and pounded on the motel room door. “Fugitive Recovery Agent!” he called out. “Norman P. Rudd, unlock the door and step back.”

The thuds of feet on a carpet, and then the slam of an interior door, indicated Norman had likely retreated to the bathroom. Mica wasn’t worried he’d try to escape. The man would never make it through the small window.

He moved swiftly in front of the door and kicked it near the door handle. The door didn’t budge, so he kicked it again. This time the wooden frame around the door gave. With the door tilting now in the opening, he smacked it so it fell to the floor inside the room then rushed inside, heading straight back to the bathroom door.

Behind him, he heard the cowboy say, “Hardman, you got eyes on that bathroom window?”

Radio static sounded, then, “I do. Bastard’s got his shoulders in the opening.”

Mica still wasn’t worried. Norman would never get his belly through it. Standing to the side of the bathroom door, he raised his voice. “Norman, you got nowhere else to run. How about you get out of that window and open the door? I don’t want to come in after you.”

“Can’t breathe,” came a faint voice from the other side of the door.

“Ah, shit,” came the voice on the radio.

Then Marti’s dulcet tones followed. “Norman, you stupid asshole. What did you think was gonna happen?”

Mica’s shoulders dropped. He stepped back and easily kicked in the bathroom door.

Standing in the doorway, he shook his head. Norman’s large body was wedged tightly in the space, his feet dangling above the floor.

“Can’t breathe,” the man repeated, this time with a hint of panic in his voice.

The cowboy tapped his shoulder. When Mica glared back at him, the other hunter smiled. “You got this?”

Mica barely suppressed a snarl. A little help would be needed to rescue the man stuffed in the window. He holstered his weapon. “If you don’t mind…”

The other man grinned. “They call me Cowboy, by the way.”

“Figured that,” he said, eyeing the hat. But he already knew who he was due to a certain TV show. “I’m Mica Ford.”

Cowboy raised his radio. “Hardman, go get your toolkit. We’ll have to disassemble that window.”

“On it.”

“Think we could just raise his ass and his torso and slide him out?” Mica asked, frowning.

“Can’t breathe, man,” Norman said again.

“Shallow breaths, dumbass,” Marti said from the other side of the window.

“You’re her,” Norman whispered. “The girl in the video.”

“Save your breath,” she said in a flat tone.

“Musta watched it a hundred times.”

“Do you want me to let you suffocate?”

Mica didn’t know why Norman continued to engage with her while her tone was lowering and she bit out her words. Marti Wells was an intimidating woman. Norman had to be lacking some oxygen to his brain.

Cowboy cleared his throat. “I’ll go around back and hold him up so he’s not folded over the sill.”

“Once you’re there, I’ll lift his legs,” Mica said. “Then he might catch a breath.”

“Your face is getting mighty red,” Marti muttered.

“Guess the window wasn’t a smart move, huh?” Norman said, then tried to laugh, but it sounded like a sob.

“Neither was torching your neighbor’s house,” came Marti’s irritated reply.

“He had it comin’.”

“It’s Montana, dumbass. All you had to do was wait for election day, and you could’ve happy-danced all over his yard. Wasn’t like his candidate had any hope in hell.”

“That’s what my momma said,” Norman said mournfully.

“And now, you’re going to jail. Didn’t help yourself trying to run.”

Mica watched through the top of the divided window as Cowboy moved beneath Norman and propped Norman’s chest on one broad shoulder. Mica hunched down and stuck his shoulder under Norman’s hips and raised him. “I got the heavy end,” he muttered.

“That better, Norman?” Marti asked.

“Yeah, but how you gonna get me out.”

A drill revved nearby. “I got that handled,” Hardman’s voice sounded to the side.

Twenty minutes later, with the window disassembled, they slid Norman back into the bathroom. As soon as he melted to the floor, Mica flipped him on his belly and used two sets of cuffs to secure his arms behind his back.

Cowboy appeared beside him. “I’ll help you get him on his feet.”

It did take two of them to help the man up. By the time Mica escorted him from the hotel room, he was sweating.

“You got it from here?” Hardman asked after Mica removed the cuffs and placed Norman’s hands in front of him to attach the cuffs bolted to his floorboard.

“I’ll need one of you to ride along,” Mica said, “seeing as we’re divvying up this bounty.”

“We trust you for it.”

“Holy shit,” came a voice from farther down the parking lot.

Mica glanced sideways and saw the clerk hurrying over to them.

“My boss is gonna have my ass,” the man said, eyeing the shattered doorframe.

“I’ll cover the damages,” Mica said, pulling a business card from his wallet. “Have him call me.”

The clerk took the card then turned to stare at Marti, then Hardman, and then Cowboy. “Holy shit,” he said again, his jaw sagging.

Marti reached out and tipped his jaw closed.

“We gonna be on TV?” he asked.

“Nope. No film crew. Just us doing our jobs,” Hardman said.

“Dang, no one’s gonna believe me.”

Marti grinned. “Got your phone handy?”

He blinked, reached into his back pocket, then handed her the phone.

Marti pulled him against her side, then tapped the screen a couple of times. When she raised the camera high, she said, “Say cheese,” then stuck out her tongue and tapped the screen again.

When she handed the phone back to the man, he was grinning so wide Mica’s cheeks ached.

Marti pointed into the trashed room. “There’s fresh pizza in there if you’re hungry.”

Cowboy held out his hand, and Mica shook it. “We’ll have to stop meeting like this,” he said with a waggle of his eyebrows.

Mica’s mouth twitched. Yeah, he was out several thousand dollars, but he’d have been up shit creek without a paddle if they hadn’t been there. “Thanks for the backup,” he said.

“Any time. You get tired of goin’ solo, you ought to come by and talk to us. We could use a man like you.”

Mica drew in a breath. His gut instinct was to snort and give them a Hell, no. However, he’d been doing this on his own long enough to see the advantage of working with a well-oiled machine like the MBH crew. He wasn’t about to shut that door before he’d given the offer a bit of thought. “I’ll drop by with your money in a day or two,” he said, not addressing the offer. “I’ll have to get an estimate for the damage to the doors before I can figure your cut.”

“No worries. Give us a call before you head over. I’ll buy you a meal.”

“Ever been to Dead Horse?” Marti asked.

“Nope. Haven’t had that pleasure. I work mostly in central Montana and down into Wyoming.”

“Dead Horse is a good little town,” Cowboy said. “There are worse places to hang your hat.”

Mica nodded. “Don’t wear one, but I hear you. What I’ve seen of Dead Horse on the TV, it doesn’t look like it’s been the most welcoming place to bounty hunters.”

“Most residents aren’t as ornery as Nadine at the diner,” Cowboy said with a grin.

“That’s good to know. She’s kind of scary.”

Marti laughed. “I’m convinced all that sass covers a heart of gold. We just have to dig a bit deeper to find it.”

Hardman grunted. “That woman’s mean through and through.”

Mica cleared his throat. “I better get down the road with this guy.”

“I’m glad we finally met,” Cowboy said, touching the brim of his hat.

Hardman and Marti gave him a wave and turned on the walkway to make their way back to their vehicle.

Once he’d stowed his weapon in a lockbox under his seat, he climbed into the cab and gave Norman a quick glance. “It’s a couple of hours to the detention center in Bozeman. Might as well get some sleep. We’re not stopping along the way.”

“What if I have to pee?”

Mica gave him a cold, hard stare.

Norman pursed his lips and turned to stare out the window. “Don’t suppose you’d play some music? I might not get to hear anything nice for a while.”

“What’s your pleasure?” Mica asked, tapping the ignition button and backing out of the space in front of the room with the missing door.

“Rock ’n’ roll, man.”

Mica tapped the button on the radio, which opened instantly to a classic rock station he liked. CCR’s “Suzie Q” started. A moment later, Norman began singing along—and not softly. His off-key warbling made Mica wince, but then a grin stretched across his face.

This life he’d chosen wasn’t so bad. It beat moving through desert towns, wondering where the snipers were or driving down dusty highways checking out every darkened patch of dirt or tarmac for mines or IEDs.

Sure, he’d been shot at, spit on, bitten once, and cussed often, but bounty hunting gave him just enough of an adrenaline rush that he didn’t regret leaving the Army. Plus, he was his own boss. He didn’t have to follow orders. Didn’t have to keep his quarters or his truck clean—and he hadn’t for the first few months after he’d mustered out. But old habits died hard, and he’d missed the sense of orderliness boot camp and frequent inspections had instilled. Now, his truck and his apartment were pristine, ready for a white-glove inspection.

The warbling ended abruptly, and a loud snore sounded beside him. Mica shot Norman a quick glance. The man’s head lolled forward, and a long piece of drool was slowly stretching toward his lap.

Turning back to stare at the dark ribbon of highway in front of him, Mica smiled then tilted back his head and sang, “Oh, Suzie Q…”

*~*~*

If you haven’t already, pre-Order your copy now!

Open ContestsCelebrate National Word Nerd Day! (Contest) — Win an Amazon gift card!National Clean Off Your Desk Day! (Contest) — Win something! I haven’t decided what just yet!A. Catherine Noon: Letters from Far Away (Contest) — Win a hand-painted postcard!How my January is going so far… (Contest–2 Winners!) — Win a hand-painted bookmark!Saturday’s Puzzle-Contest: All I want is a decent cup… — Win an Amazon gift card!Anna T.S./Michal Scott: Her Life, Her Love, Her Legacy — The Ripple Effect of the Life of Coretta Scott King (Contest) — Win an Amazon gift card!The post Meet Mica! (Plus, Open Contests–MANY Open Contests!) first appeared on Delilah Devlin.

Meg Benjamin: The Romantic Cozy

My new book, The Pepper Peach Murder (from Wild Rose Press), is a cozy mystery—the first I’ve tried. My other books have all been romances, contemporary and paranormal. But to me, cozy mysteries are also romantic mysteries. Or anyway, they should be, as far as I’m concerned.

When I told friends and family that I was working on a cozy mystery, a lot of them asked me what a cozy was exactly. Some things about cozies are easy to explain. Most of them are written from the heroine’s point of view, and a lot them are written in first person. The heroine usually has some kind of interesting occupation: there are lots of bakers, for example, and caterers and crafters and owners of bookstores or country inns. But the image a lot of readers have of the cozy heroine is Jessica Fletcher, a decidedly unromantic lady who wrote mysteries in Cabot Cove, Maine. Jessica did occasionally have a date or two, but she was much more into solving mysteries than dancing in the moonlight.

As a romance writer, I didn’t want to limit my heroine that way. I wanted her to have a love life along with her jam making and murder solving because that was the kind of book I wanted to read myself. Donna Andrews’ Meg has her Michael; Kerry Greenwood’s Corinna has her Daniel. And my Roxy has her Nate.

Now since this is a mystery rather than a romance, Roxy also has a murder to solve. But since it’s a romantic mystery, solving the mystery will involve solving Roxy’s love life. She had a bad experience as a line cook in Denver and has come back to her hometown of Shavano, Colorado, to restart. But Roxy has concentrated on getting her jam business off the ground rather than her relationships with men until she meets chef Nate Robicheaux at the local farmers market. The two hit it off immediately. There’s just one problem (other than Roxy’s nervousness about getting back on her feet romantically): another local chef, Brett Holmes, wants Roxy on his arm and in his bed, and he won’t take no for an answer.

When someone kills Brett in his restaurant kitchen, Roxy’s the logical suspect since she and Brett had a shouting match in front of the farmers market vendors. Now, she’s got to clear her name and keep her business afloat while she and Nate discover just how much she’s back on her game again romantically.

There’s a lot on her plate, but Roxy can handle it. After all, she’s the Jam Queen of Shavano County, and she wants her romance to be like her jam: sweet, hot, and very tasty.

~MB

The post Meg Benjamin: The Romantic Cozy first appeared on Delilah Devlin.