Laura Roberts's Blog, page 70

The Muse: An interview with Nancy Fraser

Today I had I chance to interview Nancy Fraser, but first here’s a bit about her latest book, The Muse, an historical erotic romance published by Decadent Publishing:

Privileged Hyde Park socialite, Susan Leland, wants more from life than being a rich man’s daughter. She wants excitement, daring, but most of all, she wants to explore her sexuality. A chance meeting with artist Evan Forrester, a man she’d met purely by “accident” months earlier, leads Susan on a journey of sensual discovery that not only includes the handsome Evan, but also sultry torch singer, Holly Winters. Together, the singer and the artist uncover Susan’s utmost desires and unleash her inner vamp.

Excerpt from The Muse

Susan tapped lightly on the solid oak door leading to Evan Forrester’s downtown loft. The building was old, in parts dilapidated and smelling of mold. The three-story climb to his studio had been precarious, with more broken stairs than good ones. The urge to turn and flee ran rampant through her thoughts. She still couldn’t believe she was actually taking him up on his suggestion.

She hesitated. She hadn’t pictured him being destitute, a starving artist unable to afford something better than this run-down building. As hard as she tried to ignore her inner voice, she couldn’t hide her concern for the safety of her situation. Eager to be out of the dark, damp hallway, she knuckled the door a bit harder, stopping just short of actually using her balled-up fist to pound the old wood.

From behind the barrier, she could hear the shuffle of footsteps, and held her breath in anticipation. When the door opened, she let her breath out on a sigh of relief.

“You’re here,” Evan said, his gaze flaring as if she’d caught him by surprise.

“You said one o’clock,” Susan reminded him. She made a rather deliberate show of staring at her bare wrist. “It’s five minutes of, according to my watch.”

He stepped back and allowed her inside. Unlike the dark entryway and corridors leading to the third floor, his loft was filled with color, vivid splashes of paint adorning walls full of original artwork. Windows rose from floor to ceiling, allowing the early afternoon sun to shine through, unimpeded by draperies of any kind. Sparsely furnished with nothing more than a few chairs and a small kitchen table. Susan wondered what lay behind each of the three doors along the back wall.

“Truthfully, I didn’t think you’d show.” He waved his hand in a circle, the arc encompassing the entire open living area. “I don’t get many Hyde Park society girls in my studio.”

She raised her chin a notch. “Whether you realize it or not, I’m not like most Hyde Park girls.” When he didn’t comment, she reminded him, “You said I could make up for the accident by posing for you. I’m here to make amends for—as you put it – the pain and suffering my recklessness caused.”

He chuckled, the teasing lilt of his voice drawing her attention to where he stood. It was then she realized he was dressed in little more than a pair of tight– fitting denim rousers and an unbuttoned shirt. A sparse patch of short curls adorned his well-muscled chest, trailing downward to disappear inside the waistband of his pants. His feet were bare and his dark hair tousled, as if she’d awoken him from a sound sleep. His second laugh, this one much heartier than the first, told her she’d been caught staring. A sudden wave of heat rushed her cheeks. Her pulse raced.

“As I said last night, I don’t do formal portraits.”

His words drew her gaze back to his face, his mouth, the fullness of his lips. She raised her head and nodded. “Let’s just get this over with, please.”

He crooked his finger and motioned for her to follow. “Bathroom’s through there, if you need the facilities.” He opened the door to the middle room. “This is my bedroom. You can change in here, if you’d like. There’s a dressing gown hanging on the back of the door.”

“Change into what?” she asked. Her throat suddenly as dry as a pile of cotton batting, she slipped out of her lightweight coat and cloche and laid them at the foot of the bed.

Evan shook his head; his eyebrows arched and wagged teasingly. “Into as very little as you’re comfortable with, Miss Leland. I prefer totally nude, but if you’d like to leave your fancy drawers on, I can use my imagination.” He motioned toward the wooden table in the corner of the room. “There are some props, jewelry and the sort, over there, if you’d like to doll yourself up.”

“Anything else?” She did her best to put a sarcastic bent to her question yet feared her voice trembled too much to make the right impression.

He lowered his gaze from her face, across her body, down her legs, settling at last on her ankles. The intensity of his perusal made her toes curl.

“Take off those shoes and put on a pair with ankle straps. Preferably black. There should be a pair in the closet that will fit you.” He turned toward the door, stopping to add, “My studio is in the next room over. I’ll prepare a fresh canvas. Don’t take forever. I have someone coming at three.”

Purchase Links

The Muse is currently available for just 99¢ at Amazon and Decadent Publishing.

An Interview

How long have you been writing erotica, and what inspired you to get into this genre?

While I’ve been writing steamy love scenes for years, this is my first erotica romance. My inspiration came from the fact that I felt my creativity needed redirection. I found I was relying on the same-old, same-old when crafting a love scene. What better way to jumpstart your muse than to step out of your comfort zone? Now that I’ve written one, I see myself writing many, many more. There is a certain freedom that comes with erotica that you have in no other type of romance.

What gave you the idea for your latest book?

I’ve always been a fan of the Roaring 20’s. I was researching the time period for a previously released holiday novella and the era stuck with me. I was enthralled with the way the young people and the rich pushed the envelope, often snubbing their noses at both the police and society.

In The Muse, my heroine is a gently raised debutante who is tired of her good-two-shoes lifestyle and craves something new and exciting. What better way to discover who you are than with some really hot sex?

Who are some of your favorite erotica writers or other literary inspirations?

I really like Sylvia Day. I only started reading erotica this past summer and she was my first exposure. For romantic inspiration, I adore Elizabeth Lowell. She writes with such flare.

Describe your typical writing routine. Where do you usually write? How many words/pages per day? Do you keep set hours? What does your workspace look like?

I retired from working outside the home last December. At the time I was living in a cozy one bedroom with my office at the foot of my bed. When I realized I’d now be able to write full time, I decided to enlarge my living space to accommodate an actual office. I’m especially proud of my wall of book covers. When I’m not doing promo for a new release, I do my best to write between 3 and 4K per day. I do take two days off per week, one for myself and one for my family. As for routine, I’m an early bird so I like to write when I’m fresh and edit when I’m gearing down.

Do you have any favorite foods or beverages that help keep your creativity flowing?

Coffee, chocolate and more coffee. I love the convenience of my Keurig. If I’m really sequestered in my office, I can take the pot with me.

Do you have any writing superstitions or rituals when starting (or ending) a new book?

I don’t have any real superstitions, at least not that I’m aware of. I do have an organizational ritual. When I begin a book, I start by setting up a new file on the computer and sub-folders for promo, covers, contracts/paperwork, and the actual manuscript itself. In the promo folder, I set up my press kit – each one is individual to the project.

What do you think makes for a good erotic story?

Characters that the readers will not only lust after but also want to be their best friend. What I have found to be very prevalent in the erotic romances that I’ve read is that I don’t always like the characters. They seem to be far less sympathetic than your usual romantic leads. I hope to keep my H/H someone you’d want to get to know. I want every story to also be a romance, in addition to having very hot, sometimes kinky sex.

What’s your favorite euphemism for genitalia?

Call me old-school but I still find some of the bolder words very un-romantic, especially the “c” words used for a woman’s body parts. Fortunately, the 1920’s had their own lingo for genitalia and I could pull from that. Once I get around to doing a contemporary, I’ll have to work around my feelings and use what’s popular at the time – but hopefully with a softer edge.

What else have you written, and where can people learn more about you and your work?

I just signed a second contract with Decadent for another 1920’s erotica. Prior to making the move to erotic romance, I published 15 romances in the historical, contemporary and vintage historical genres. I also made one foray into paranormal with a futuristic time travel and, to this day, it’s one of my personal favorites.

More information on what I’ve published, readers can visit my website, my blog or follow me on Twitter for the most up-to-date news.

About the Author

Like most authors, Nancy Fraser began writing at an early age, usually on the walls and with crayons or, heaven forbid, permanent markers. Her love of writing often made her the English teacher’s pet, which, of course, resulted in a whole lot of teasing. Still, it was worth it.

When not writing (which is almost never), Nancy dotes on her five beautiful grandchildren and looks forward to traveling and reading when time permits. Nancy lives in Atlantic Canada where she enjoys the relaxed pace and colorful people.

You can connect with Nancy on Facebook, Twitter, Goodreads, and her website, nancyfraser.ca.

Giveaway

Nancy will be awarding a $15 GC to winner’s choice of an online book retailer to a randomly drawn winner via Rafflecopter during the tour, and another randomly drawn winner will be awarded a Reader’s Coffee Mug (US/Canada — $5 GC for international winners). Be sure to follow the rest of the tour and comment; the more you comment, the better your chances of winning. All tour dates can be found here.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

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Naked Montreal is on tour!

Today’s the first day of my official Naked Montreal book tour, organized by Goddess Fish Promotions, and I’m super excited to be answering some excellent – dare I say probing? – questions proposed by fellow erotica author C.R. Moss. You can check out the interview on her blog here.

Don’t forget to enter the giveaway for a chance to win a $25 gift card and your very own copy of Naked Montreal.

P.S. There’s still time left to enter my Enter the Ninja contest to win a copy of Ninjas of the 512 as part of my Booktoberfest celebrations, so hurry up and enter!

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#HumpDayReviews: The Maenad of Manhattan

The glory days of Ancient Greece are long gone, and the gods of the Old World are scattered across the globe. As their popularity dwindles, as their worshipers forget, their power fades. Luckily for Aphrodite, she’s a household name. After all, how could anyone ever forget the Greek goddess of Love?

Unfortunately, no one seems to know or care about her divinity. In a world of skeptics and technology-crazed mortals, loneliness and boredom have taken hold. Her life consists of romance advice columns, martini bars, and flings with empty-headed men – until she meets Loki.

She’s intrigued: it’s been decades – centuries even – since she laid eyes on another god, particularly one outside her pantheon. In their short time together, she realizes just how much she needs the companionship of one of her own. Loki, however, seems more interested in catching a murderous maenad than swapping stories about the old days.

Can she convince Loki to stay and make her life a little less lonely, or will he persuade her to join him on his quest for more worshipers? His questionable tactics make her uneasy, but how can she turn down the opportunity to live as she once did: freely, powerfully, and lustfully as Aphrodite of Olympus.

Purchase Links

My Review

Not counting tentacle tales, this is my first Paranormal Erotic Romance review. So I have to admit that I’ve avoided paranormal romances in the past, as I’m not a big fan of the stereotypical vamps and werewolves that dominate the genre.

The Maenad of Manhattan, however, intrigued me from the start. Sex with a god? With Loki, the Trickster? Starring the Goddess of Love and Lust herself? BRING IT ON!

I mean, how could that not be hot, right?

Even though I was totally ignorant of what, exactly, a maenad might be (they’re female followers of Dionysus, the Greek God of Wine, who whip themselves into an ecstatic frenzy through drink and dance, as it turns out), I was psyched to read this book. And its erotic content definitely did not disappoint.

Loki is less of a scamp than one might imagine, having lost most of his godly power through centuries of mortal neglect. But even if humans no longer make sacrifices and bow down to him, that doesn’t mean he can’t keep things feisty in the sack. He’s the type who likes to mix pleasure and pain, and he rocks Aphrodite’s world with some S&M-influenced tricks like biting, silken ties and exploring the entire Kama Sutra of positions throughout her Upper East Side penthouse. Rrowr.

Aphrodite, starved for a sexual equal, experiences multiple orgasms, thanks to Loki’s skills in the bedroom. It seems like the perfect match.

Until she discovers him trying to hack into her bank account the next morning.

After he manages to calm the angry goddess down, Loki explains that he’s hard-up for cash, and explains his latest venture: an investigative service that tracks down mythological creatures causing chaos in the city.

At first Aphrodite is unimpressed, particularly as she’s unaware of anything mythical or magical inhabiting her city, but when Loki shows her a gruesome crime scene, she uncovers a potential cause for the mayhem: a maenad gone mad.

While I would’ve preferred a bit more page-time devoted to the titular maenad – particularly as far as Loki’s skills as a mythological creature-hunter prowling the bars in search of the wine-drunk madwoman – I found Aphrodite’s role in the investigation worked well. It’s obvious she’s bored with her existence as a mere advice columnist for the lovelorn, and needs a bit of action to keep her occupied – both between the sheets and elsewhere in the world.

I also really liked this pairing of Greek goddess and Norse god, their formerly warring pantheons taking a time-out to get to know one another better in more ways than one.

All in all, I’m looking forward to the next installment in this series, The Vampire of Vancouver – even if it is about a damned vampire! – to see what other tricks Loki’s got up his sleeves.

About the Author

Liz Meldon is a Canadian author who grew up in the Middle East. She has a degree in Bioarchaeology from Western University, and when she isn’t writing about snarky characters of her own, she is ghostwriting romance novellas, working on her fanfiction, loitering on social media, or selling tickets at a theatre.

In the past year, she has written six romance novellas as a ghostwriter. Three have been published and are doing well. She loves writing realistic characters in fantastical settings.

You can find Liz online at Twitter, Goodreads, Pinterest, Tumblr and her website, lizmeldon.com.

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Mistletoe, kissing cowboys, and a wedding: A Melissa McClone trio and #giveaway

Three couples. Three stories, where you can follow one pair from meeting to wedding day!

Mistletoe Magic – a short story – $0.99 Nook, FREE for Kindle and Smashwords.
Kiss Me, Cowboy – an eBook novella — is $0.99 at Amazon from Oct 17 to 22
Mistletoe Wedding — an eBook novella — New Release! Only $2.99 at Amazon

Mistletoe Magic

Spending a quiet Christmas housesitting and reading novels about hot cowboys sounds perfect to Caitlin Butler. Until a stray kitten brings her face-to-face with Noah, her crush from college. Watching the handsome vet in action melts Caitlin’s heart and brings back long forgotten emotion. She would be safer back at the house lost in the pages of a book. But a toe-curling mistletoe kiss tempts her to stay. Maybe she won’t be spending this Christmas… alone.

Veterinarian Noah Sullivan isn’t a Scrooge, but the Christmas Eve tradition of hanging mistletoe in the clinic’s waiting room annoys him. Kissing doesn’t belong at the Copper Mountain Animal Hospital. Noah rethinks his position when Caitlin arrives with a stray kitten she found freezing in the snow. All he wants now is to maneuver the pretty preschool teacher under the mistletoe. If he’s not careful, he’ll wind up on Santa’s naughty list.

Kiss Me, Cowboy

She didn’t mean to kiss him…

When dude ranch wrangler Charlotte – aka Charlie – Randall kisses Zack Harris in an act of empathy, she falls hat over spurs for the handsome military veteran turned cowboy. Zack has too many demons, however, and refuses to get involved. A year later, he’s still stonewalling, and Charlie needs to move on with her life so she can find a fulfilling relationship, not frustrating unrequited love. Putting distance between them seems the best way to get Zack out of her head and heart…but that means quitting the job she loves and accepting a position in Colorado.

He didn’t mean to kiss her back…

Growing up, Zack longed for a real family, and had one with his squad while deployed in Afghanistan. Now, he’s back in the States and doesn’t want anything messing up his new ranch family, no matter how much he’s attracted to the sexy, hard-working Charlie. She could break his heart and ruin the comfortable working relationship they and the other wranglers enjoy. Besides, her friends claim she’s looking for the perfect guy, and perfect he’s not.

A kiss is just a kiss… or is it?

When Zack learns Charlie’s thinking about leaving the ranch, he decides to find her a boyfriend — someone so good, so perfect, she has a reason to stay in Montana. Until he realizes too late that the only cowboy he wants her kissing is him. Can he commit to love and convince Charlie not to leave? Or has she made up her mind to put the past, and the kiss that started it all, behind her and move on without him?

Mistletoe Wedding

Event planner at the Bar V5 Dude Ranch, Meg Redstone is dreaming of a white Christmas with twinkling lights, sparkly decorations and strategically placed mistletoe. She loves making dreams come true for others, whether planning a holiday wedding or giving her young daughter the best Christmas ever.

Ranch foreman Tyler Murphy loves the holidays, but his newest employee has taken over his barn with her over-the-top decorations. He admires Meg’s desire to give her daughter the perfect Christmas while planning a winter wonderland wedding, but he wants to show her that a Montana Christmas is more than glitter and lights.

After raising his younger sister, an instant family is not on Ty’s Christmas wish list. But he finds himself falling hard for the single mom and her little girl. Meg, however, is not interested in a romance with a cowboy like Ty, or any man. Getting her under the mistletoe is going to take a Christmas miracle… or a little help from Santa.

An excerpt from Mistletoe Wedding

Her gaze kept straying back to the man walking next to her.

And she knew with pulse-pounding certainty.

All the rationalizations of why romantic feelings didn’t matter and why she was better off alone than in a relationship disappeared like a snowflake being caught on a tongue. They mattered, and she wanted those things badly.

With Ty.

She hadn’t meant to fall for him, but she had. Hard.

A shiver raced down her spine. The realization was unexpected, scary.

He shot her a sideways glance, which she knew because she couldn’t drag her attention off him. “You, okay?”

“Just thinking.” Of course, he would sense something was up. That was part of his appeal. He got her. The way he understood her daughter, too. If there was one man out there who was what she needed and Brooklyn needed, that was Ty Murphy.

Feelings and desires long buried rose to the surface. She was ready to stop saying she didn’t want more, want him.

“Know what you want?” he asked.

Meg swallowed around the lump in her throat. “Excuse me?”

“What chocolates you’re going to get?”

She sighed with relief. She thought he’d read her mind. “Salted caramels for the guys. I’ll have to see what Sage has in the display case before I decide what I want.”

Besides him.

“You can have more than one,” Ty said.

“I might want only one.”

“It’s Christmas. Don’t be so cautious. Live it up.”

If only she knew where he stood… Dare she ask?

About the Author

With a degree in mechanical engineering from Stanford University, Melissa McClone worked for a major airline where she traveled the globe and met her husband. But analyzing jet engine performance couldn’t compete with her love of writing happily ever afters. Her first full-time writing endeavor was her first sale when she was pregnant with her first child! Since then, she has published over thirty romance novels with Harlequin and Tule Publishing Group. She’s also been nominated for Romance Writers of America’s RITA® award. When she isn’t writing, you can usually find her driving her minivan to/from her children’s swim practices and other activities. She also sends care packages to deployed service members and fosters cats through a local no-kill animal shelter. Melissa lives in the Pacific Northwest with her husband, three school-aged children, two spoiled Norwegian Elkhounds and cats who think they rule the house. They do!

Connect with Melissa on Facebook, Twitter or her website, melissamcclone.com.

Giveaway

Melissa will award a $25 Amazon Gift Card and a Mini Swag Goodie Bag to a randomly drawn winner via Rafflecopter during the tour (international giveaway) and a $20 Starbucks GC to a randomly drawn host. And don’t forget to follow the tour and comment; the more you comment, the better your chances of winning. All tour dates can be found here. Good luck!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

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#Booktoberfest: Enter my Enter the Ninja giveaway

Today’s giveaway is all about ninjas! Enter to win my Booktoberfest contest below, and feel free to share this post with your ninja loving friends.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

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The Scary Road to Conceiving Evil — a guest post by Jenna Fox

Today I have a spooky guest post from Jenna Fox, the author of Conceiving Evil. But first, here’s a bit about the book:

Like everyone else after the economic crash, Abby Torrance was struggling financially. But then Dorian Lincoln, a political and business icon, sweeps her off her feet and into a life of promise. He’s a man who has enough power to change the world for the better, a man who can give hope to the masses, a man who can give Abby a baby.

But the road to Hell is paved with good intentions and Abby is having strange dreams that seem both a warning and a prophecy.

How can she give the evil undertones of her dreams any notice when she’s busy focusing on conceiving?

Excerpt

Dammit to hell. I can’t even enjoy a movie.

The nighttime air bit at my skin as thoughts of him chomped at my brain. He’d polluted me like a poison that spread throughout my mind and body, seizing every thought, leaving no rest. I loved horror movies and yet I couldn’t recall a single scene. Jimmie kept glancing at me, concern etching his face all the way through the ninety-minute show.

Soon Jimmie and I walked out of the theater, my hand resting in the crook of his elbow. Bitterness raged inside, heating my face against the breeze when I saw the limo roll toward us. He found me like he always said he would, but three fucking hours late.

I knew I wasn’t Dorian’s top priority, and I’d made some progress at keeping my jealousy under control, but no woman wanted to be shoved to the side every time it was convenient for a man. I tightened my grip on Jimmie’s sleeve and pulled him along just as the driver stepped into our path. I gave the chauffeur a shotgun-glare as he motioned me to the car. “Miss Torrance, Mr. Lincoln is waiting.”

My heart skipped ten beats, I couldn’t tear my eyes away when the dark window lowered and Dorian tousled his ebony hair with his fingers. He wasn’t in his usual attire, a business suit. Tonight he presented himself in casual wear. His sharp, handsome features were expressionless.

I closed my eyes, digging deep for the strength to tell him to get lost for standing me up, but I knew the words would never make it past my lips. I was a fool to entertain the thought. One look from those black eyes sifted me like wheat. Dorian practically owned me. That man was my tempter and my savior wrapped into one.

I met him at the lowest point of my life, after my mother died of cancer. The three jobs I was working to keep my head above water and pay off her medical bills were about to do me in physically. While I was waiting tables at the country club, Dorian swooped in from out of nowhere and rescued me like an injured bird. His amazing sixth sense alerted him that life was too much for me, and he offered me a strong shoulder to cry on. The floodgates opened and I unloaded my personal problems. Dorian Lincoln promised those problems would disappear with a simple acceptance of his proposition: give him power over my body, something Bianca wouldn’t allow.

Lifting my palm to Jimmie’s cheek, I smiled. “Thanks for the movie. I’ll call you next week.”

“He’s a prick. You deserve better, Abby!” Jimmie yelled, as I eased myself inside the limo.

Dorian opened a small refrigerator under the seat, his hands cupping the base of a champagne glass. “You’ve wasted no time finding another way of entertaining yourself this evening.”

“You wasted no time in standing me up,” I scoffed.

When I left his office that afternoon, Dorian said he wanted me for some “quality time.” Eight-thirty rolled around before I realized he was a no-show. The food got cold and eventually the long stemmed candles I lit for dinner burned out, along with my patience.

“Meetings… clients,” he said.

Top secret meetings and clients were always the excuse. The coldness in his voice was a sword to my heart, a reminder of my temporary ranking in his life. I held on tight to his promise of our relationship becoming more when the time was right.

His stony expression broke into a devious grin. “You look beautiful in that dress and your enthusiasm is charming. But watching you masturbate will reimburse me, Miss Torrance.”

My stomach dropped and quivered as I pressed my thighs together. He was going to punish me.

I tugged at the straps of the red shoes he’d bought me, eyeing him as he sipped from the flute and moved his gaze toward the window. Overtaken by the need to be the object of his fascination, I almost begged him to turn those onyx eyes back on me. His attention was the only thing that kept me from going under.

“Dorian, please I-”

My words were cut off with the sharp turn of his head. Relief came in a warm caress, but suspicion moved in with a lift of his brow. The small amount of light coming through the tinted windows deepened the masculine angles of his face, lending them a sternness that echoed in his voice.

“No other men. I thought I was quite clear about that when we discussed the terms of our agreement, three months ago.”

“Jimmie is just a friend.”

“Jimmie is a man. A distraction.”

“A distraction from being pissed. I don’t like being stood up.”

I sounded so offended, but I had no right. Closing my eyes I regrouped, reminding myself that I freely agreed to make myself available to him. Dorian kept up his end of the arrangement. He took care of me, changed my life for the better. My phone stopped ringing from creditors, he gave me a great job at his company, and I had food on the table in a fabulous apartment. He seemed to know my every need before I voiced them. I could push aside my hostility and take his punishment and occasional negligence.

“You are mine, all mine.” he announced.

His words, saturated with power and ownership, sustained my hungry heart. I could hold out as long as it took, accepting the way things had to be until Bianca was more emotionally stable, and Dorian could ask her for a divorce. I had waited longer on losers, lazy assholes who wouldn’t work in a pie factory. This time I had struck gold.

Reaching over, I grabbed the seat when Dorian impatiently knocked on the divider and the limo picked up speed.

About the Author

Jenna Fox is a civilized hillbilly, mother, author and wife residing in Eastern Tennessee. She enjoys reading and jotting down poetry in her spare time. Besides juggling a busy family life, Fox reviews and critiques for other authors and crafts her own dark erotic tales. Stories always feature a mysterious alpha male with unexpected twists to shock the reader. She believes in HFN and HEA endings, although not always in a romantic or conventional way.

Her work is born from real life experiences, an overactive imagination and a consuming caffeine addiction. Sometimes she finds herself writing sex scenes on fast food napkins and store receipts while waiting in traffic, but she’s always guilty of keeping her mind in the gutter. Fox is a listener of hard rock music and a watcher of classic slasher films. In short, she’s a writer, a storyteller, able to make a boo-boo all better with just one kiss and a proud, world class expert at screwing up recipes and scaring away closet monsters. She believes in ghosts and God and is absolutely convinced chocolate soothes the savage beast.

Connect with Jenna online at Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, Goodreads, on her Amazon author page, or at her blog, jennafoxwrites.blogspot.com.

A Spooky Story

I hope you enjoy this true story about an experience that changed my life and, in an inexplicable way, inspired Conceiving Evil. Some may find it alarming or frightening, and I won’t be using any cool metaphors, fancy similes, or perfect grammar. I’ll be using the words of a fourteen year old country girl from the hills of Tennessee.

That girl is me.

This happened during a time when an actor was the President and there was music on MTV. Martha Quinn was the VJ and Rocky IV was on the big screen. There was no internet or home computers. Telephones still had a cord and a seatbelt was your momma’s arm.

The mercury was unusually high that day in October 1985; even the flies were sweating. I was fourteen years old and walking on air because my aunt, Diana, was going to take me to the church revival in her brand new Grand Prix.

Momma didn’t go to church with us that night, I forgot the reason why, but Momma never ever allowed me to skip church. So I teased up my hair and sprayed it with an extra layer of Aqua Net because I wanted to look my best in front of the preacher’s good-looking son. If I recall correctly, his name was Steve.

As soon as I got inside the car, my aunt looked at me and narrowed her brown eyes. “Girl, you don’t need all that make-up.”

I hated when she scolded me for wearing make-up. The Pentecostal church frowned on the use of cosmetics, but I didn’t care. The Pentecostal church frowned upon wearing your skirts above the ankle, but I didn’t care about that either. My hemline touched just above the knees.

Now Aunt Diana was like a mother to me. She was the kind of woman who stayed “prayed up and fasted up.” In Pentecostal terms that means she spent a lot of time in prayer and wouldn’t eat for days and days. Those things were supposed to bring you closer to God.

We got to church a little late. Preacher Clevinger was already red-faced, giving his sermon behind the pulpit and people were praying and singing and everything was in full swing. I took a seat beside my aunt and she started praying too.

I’ll admit, I wasn’t praying. Praying was the last thing on my mind. Where was that good-looking Steve?

After an hour or more of praying and singing, things died down. A woman I’d never seen before wandered into the church. Nobody knew her name. She came out of nowhere, just right off the street, wearing an old flower-print dress with disheveled hair. She didn’t sit down, she just kept walking toward the front of the church, not stopping until she reached the altar and got down on her haunches like a dog and started to bark and growl.

The preacher and some church elders, along with my aunt, started praying with the woman. The woman barked and growled some more. The congregation fell silent and then you could hear people in the pews whispering to each other that the woman was demon possessed.

I had heard of people being possessed by the Devil, but thought it was mostly something on television. I probably wouldn’t have believed a word of it if I hadn’t witnessed it myself. Over an hour of fervent prayer with the woman went by, and the congregation thinned until the only people remaining were the preacher, my aunt, and myself.

Yes, I was afraid. Not of her, but of what was inside of her. She continued the growling and the barking and saying all that stuff.

Her skin wasn’t lacerated and green like that girl’s in The Exorcist. She wasn’t talking in a gravelly voice and turning her head at impossible angles. She was calm. Eerily calm. And she knew everybody’s name and what they’d done that day before church. She even told my aunt that she was taking too much Valium. My aunt had never taken Valium.

I’d had enough of the creepiness and went outside. The Devil was a liar and everybody knew it. Three more hours went by as I sat on those concrete steps of the Church of God. The good-looking preacher’s son had taken off with another girl and night had fallen.

Finally my aunt, the preacher and the church elders came outside with the demon-possessed lady. She looked like a different person, her eyes weren’t dark anymore and she was smiling. She told us that her name was Anna and she didn’t feel like killing herself anymore. Preacher Clevinger said that all seven of those entities were gone.

I was so happy. Happy that the woman had been freed, and that I had a really cool story to tell Momma and my friends at school. Now we could leave and I could listen to Tears for Fears on that new Grand Prix’s stereo system.

On the way home, my aunt and I talked about the incident and what a liar the Devil was. He came to kill, steal, and destroy. He walks to and fro, up and down, in and out of the earth seeking whom he may devour. Yes he does, honey. What a bastard.

He’s a liar and I didn’t believe a word he said about my aunt and those pills. Not until we got back home and I stooped down and helped her pick up the tissues and chewing gum wrappers, and a little brown bottle of Valium that had spilled out of her purse.

Do you believe?

Giveaway

Jenna’s got a huge giveaway for followers on her Bewitching Book Tour. Here’s what you could win:

1 ebook copy of Conceiving Evil by Jenna Fox
1 ebook copy of The Dead Lands by Dylan J. Morgan
1 signed paperback of Cursed Desires by C.E. Black
1 ebook copy of Then Death Spoke by LB Shaw
3 ebook copies of The Psychic Trilogy by Lola White (Demon’s Bond, Family Ties and Monster’s Chains)
3 ebook copies of the Fifty Shades of Naughty Trilogy By Edward Naughty
3 ebook copies of Edward Naughty’s Best of Year 1 Collection
1 signed paperback of Fantasy Encounter with a Dom by Suzy Ayers
1 ebook copy (winner’s choice) by E.R. Pierce

To enter, use the Rafflecopter widget below, and be sure to follow the rest of the tour here for more chances to win.

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Werewolves, witches and The Wolf’s Torment #giveaway — oh my!

It’s 1865 and Moldavia is a country nestled against the shores of the Black Sea. Lady Theresa travels from Austria to this country that’s haunted by tales of vampires and werewolves. She’s going to marry the Crown Prince, but she harbors her own unspoken secrets.

Prince Mihai has just returned to Moldavia to discover he’s a witch. He’s intent on being a good husband and modernizing his country, but he must find a balance with his supernatural heritage. His best friend, Viktor, accompanies Mihai and marries Mihai’s sister. In an unfortunate twist of fate, a werewolf bites Viktor.

Viktor’s transformation threatens everyone around him, including his wife’s safety and Mihai’s happiness, but he’s especially dangerous when he’s near Theresa. Can Mihai save his family from Viktor’s lies and deceptions?

Excerpt

Tybeski nodded and walked out. Now alone, Mihai escorted Sonia to the sofa and sat down next to her. Viktor stood behind the leather-bound chair adjacent to the sofa, bracing his hands on the headrest, keeping a certain distance between them.

“Sonia, tell me what happened.”

“Viktor is a werewolf.”

“What? Impossible!” Mihai got to his feet, a wave of nervous apprehension threading through him.

“It is possible, Mihai. A wolf named Bane bit me on our honeymoon. I have transformed,” Viktor said quietly.

Mihai lunged at his friend, grabbing the right lapel of his frock jacket. His nostrils were distended with shock, coupled with fear. For him. For Sonia. For Moldavia.

“How could you? You were armed!”

“Mihai, no, don’t harm him. He tried to fight them, but they overpowered him.” Sonia got to her feet and clenched her fists against his chest. “You have to help him — you’re a witch, after all. You have to teach me to help him.”

Mihai took a step back, his body as tight as a bowstring. Yes, he was a witch, but he had no idea what to do. He was no teacher.

“I must go to Mulfaltar the next full moon and meet with my maker’s pack,” said Viktor.

Mihai slowly ran his gaze over Viktor. Sonia was right. His eyes were no longer soft and kind, but hard and edged.

“Are you a danger to Sonia?”

Buy A Copy

You can purchase a copy of The Wolf’s Torment at Amazon, B&N, All Romance Ebooks or Desert Breeze Publishing.

About the Author

Stephanie Burkhart is a 911 dispatcher for LAPD.  She was born and raised in Manchester, New Hampshire.  She served 11 years in the US Army and currently calls Castaic, California her home. Stephanie was married in Denmark in 1991 and has two young sons. She adores chocolate and is addicted to coffee.  She writes paranormal, contemporary, and steampunk romance and has two children’s books published with 4RV Publishing.

You can connect with Stephanie on Facebook, Twitter, Goodreads, YouTube, Pinterest and her website.

Giveaway

Stephanie will be awarding a $25 Amazon GC to a randomly drawn winner via Rafflecopter during the tour, and a $10 Starbucks GC to a randomly drawn host. Be sure to follow the tour and comment – the more you comment, the better your chances of winning. All tour dates can be found here.

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#Booktoberfest: Enter my Montreal Mischief #giveaway for a chance to win Montreal-themed erotica

As part of the City of Love release blog hop (October 6 to 14), today’s Booktoberfest giveaway is all about Montreal! Enter my “Montreal Mischief” contest to win a super prize pack of all of my erotic books set in Montreal.

One lucky winner will receive:

Naked Montreal: Sex and the Underground City (part 1)
Naked Montreal: Porn Stars & Peccadillos (part 2)
The Montreal Guide to Sex

Share this post with your friends for more chances to win. And don’t forget to enter to win Marion Croslydon’s Grand Prize giveaway on her Facebook page. Bonne chance!

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Erotica authors are getting screwed: Amazon censors sexy reviews

As an indie author, I fully embrace the fact that that nobody owes me shit. As per Chuck Wendig’s latest blog post, I completely agree that writing the best book you can is the best way to get noticed, and that since there’s a buttload of new books being launched every day, it really makes no sense to bitch and moan about how no one’s reviewing your books.

But, if I may put forth a counterpoint to this argument, I suspect that not all books are being treated equally when it comes to Amazon reviews.

Indeed, when it comes to erotica authors, we’re getting screwed. Not only do people tend not to want to write reviews of dirty books in general, but I’ve got proof that Amazon actively censors reviews of erotic books.

Yesterday I set out to do a favor for some of the erotica authors I’ve recently reviewed on my blog. I wanted to repost my positive reviews of their books at Amazon — a place where more reviews = more sales. Sounds simple enough, right?

Three of the four reviews I cut and pasted from my blog went through verbatim, no problem. They were posted to the site in a matter of minutes – and that includes my review of tentacle porn. The fourth was flagged by one of Amazon’s censors, and would not be posted to the site no matter how much I changed the wording, substituting ever more vague allusions to the sex scenes in a flagrantly erotic book – a book specifically listed in Amazon’s “erotica” category.

I submitted this review SEVEN DIFFERENT TIMES.

It was rejected SEVEN DIFFERENT TIMES.

The last review I submitted is surely the most inoffensive thing I’ve ever written in my life. It read, in its entirety:

“This book is worth 4 stars. It is hot. It is about an office relationship that goes into some very not-work-safe territory. If you’re into office romance, this is the book for you.”

If you can explain how that review qualifies as either profane or obscene, I would really like to hear it.

After seven rejections, I figured I was just getting the same cranky person on the other end of the review line, and they were simply auto-rejecting whenever they saw my name pop up in the queue again.

So first, let me just say: Fuck you, Amazon Mystery Censor.

Secondly, I went back this morning and reposted the second-to-last incarnation of my review, which retained the basic gist of my blog review but substituted the word “saucy” for the word “erotic,” and ended by saying that I couldn’t give away the full monty, so you’d have to buy the book to decide for yourself.

That review went through in a matter of minutes and is currently live on the site.

Obviously I managed to bypass the cranky censor, who’d probably gone off duty to shit in an old woman’s cereal, kick puppies, steal pacifiers from toddlers, or whatever it is Amazon censors do in their free time.

So to make a long story short (too late!), my point here is this:

IF YOU WRITE EROTICA, DO NOT BE SURPRISED THAT YOUR BOOK HAS NO REVIEWS.

It’s not because your book sucks.

It’s not because your book scares off reviewers, who don’t want their real names associated with dirty books.

It’s because Amazon is censoring the way people write about erotic books.

After seven rejections of a simple review, even the most rabid fan is going to start feeling frustrated and give up on posting it at Amazon.

Personally, I think that stinks. Even though I don’t owe these authors an Amazon review, I find it appalling that once I’ve taken the time to write one up, Amazon is going to do its darndest to keep it off their site.

So for those of you who write erotica reviews at Amazon, I salute you. And for those of you who have written reviews and been rejected by Amazon’s censors, keep trying! It ain’t easy being an erotica fan, but I appreciate each and every one of you who have written a review, despite the odds. You are truly the cream in my coffee, the hot fudge on my sundae, the variable speed buzz in my vibrator.

Stay classy, reviewers, and keep up the good work!

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#HumpDayReviews 50 Shades of Kink: An Introduction to BDSM by Tristan Taormino

You know, it’s funny: I haven’t read 50 Shades of Grey yet – and have no intention of doing so, due to its famously tortured prose (although since I’ve learned it’s been one of the Most Banned books of the year, right up there with Captain Underpants, I may read it just to spite the book burners of the world). I have, however, read a lot of book with the words “50 Shades” in them, cashing in on the success of the original and doing it one (or two, or a million) better.

50 Shades of Kink: An Introduction to BDSM is another title to add to the list of “What to Read Instead of 50 Shades of Grey.” But it should definitely be the first one you pick up if you’ve never tried BDSM and want to know what it’s really all about.

Tristan Taormino has been around the block and back, so she knows what she’s talking about when it comes to kink. Along with Dan Savage and Susie Bright (and a VIP nod to Annie Sprinkle), I’d consider her part of the Holey Trinity of sex educators that introduced all things wild, wacky and wonderful to my sexual vocabulary.

This book is decidedly for beginners, explaining all the common terminology from Aftercare to Zippers (or is it the other way around?), including the reasons for the all-important safe word and just where on earth you’re supposed to put those Ben-Wa balls, anyway.

I love all of the sidebars in this book, with information on everything from sexy videos featuring well-informed kinksters to a sample BDSM contract that both dommes and subs can sign to express their deepest desires on paper. The sections on how to approach opening your relationship up to BDSM play and exploration were also spot-on, with good suggestions for approaching even the most vanilla of lovers, along with a sample checklist to suss out exactly what you and your lover are curious about exploring, with “Yes,” “No” and “Maybe” options.

The “kinky novels and fiction anthologies” section also gave me a number of items to add to my reading list, including Stephen Elliott’s My Girlfriend Comes to the City and Beats Me Up (one I’d heard about before, but keep forgetting to add to my Goodreads “Smut” shelf), and a series called “The Marketplace” by Laura Antoniou.

Even if you’re already well-versed in the kink community, 50 Shades of Kink is worth picking up for its concise yet encyclopedia approach. A slim 141-page volume, it’s perfect for slipping into your purse when meeting up for play parties with newcomers to the scene, for educating your vanilla friends and lovers, or for passing to strangers you see reading that other book on the bus.

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