Caroline Hanson's Blog, page 4
May 4, 2012
ARC of Love is Mortal
No, the book is not done yet. But a copy of the book will be auctioned off through Brenda Novak's Diabetes auction. The moment it's done you will get a copy! It's a great cause and here is the link if you want to check it out. http://brendanovak.auctionanything.com/Bidding.taf?_function=detail&Auction_uid1=2526525
May 2, 2012
Sex Scene Deleted From Love is Fear
Okay, so a lot of people have emailed me about the sex scene and have read it. But more have not. I'm going to post it here because you guys rock! If anyone does any of the tweet things or facebook things and can get the word out I'd appreciate it. I don't have time for that. I have to go write! Thanks!!
This would have been chapter 26. After V and L have sex, before the Fey. FYI-- The tone of the deleted scene was so different from LIF (I had just finished writing a m/m erotica [Three to Waltz under the penname Chloe Hanson] when I went back to writing) that it had to go. Sigh. Hope you like it-- it's graphic. You've been warned!! :)
THAT MEANS SEX! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED! GO AWAY MOM AND DAD!
He looked at the door like he wanted to leave. “I will not go to the Fey without being at full strength. I must feed. I will be back as soon as I may.”
Don’t do it. Oh god, she tried to bite the words back. He stood, started walking towards the door, and she couldn’t help herself. “Who is it?”
Lucas turned back and looked at her. “It does not even matter. I could not give you a name if I wanted to. I do not ask and I do not care. The only thing I am thinking now is that I have to keep you safe. Do not ask me to jeopardize that.”
“What if I did?”
He shook his head. A warning.
“What if I did?” she repeated.
“Don’t.” And then he was out the door and Val was alone, in his bed, with no underwear.
Val dressed, and went downstairs onto the main street. She found a 24 hour pharmacy and bought some underwear with days of the week on them. Definitely not her first choice. She wasn’t up on her laundry enough to get the days right. What if she wore Thursday on a Sunday? Everyone would think she’d been wearing the same underwear for days.
Really, Val? This is what you’re thinking about? This Fey thing sounds like a big deal. A big problem and you want to rhapsodize about underwear?
She could see her hotel in the distance but the door to a bar was open, inviting. If she was going to die, shouldn’t she have one last drink? No, she needed to go back to the hotel. That Rhiannon song, Only Girl in the World came on and Val took it as an omen. How come no one treated her like she was the only girl in the world? Fuck it. She would drink to that.
#
The bar was standing room only. She was leaning against the wooden bar top, watching the bartender make a gin and diet tonic. Mostly gin. Some guy would no doubt reap the reward of some drunken chick tonight.
This was her third glass of champagne. The bubbles were working and hey, if she was going to die, might as well have the good stuff, right?
She closed her eyes and felt it-- A pull, as though a wave of desire was moving towards her. She opened her eyes and saw Lucas walking towards her, people instinctively moving out of his way. She smiled at him in irritation and he shook his head, as though disagreeing with her. I haven’t even said anything and he’s saying no!
She kept her back to him. Butterflies flitted around in her stomach as she waited for him to get to her. Music was blaring, the beat heavy and she let it wash through her, each pulse resonating in her core so that it was almost seductive, pleasurable, a feeling she couldn't resist. Close to desire. She remembered straddling Lucas, kissing him, grinding against him.
Hands slipped around her waist and she looked down. Lucas was a solid weight at her back, his body conforming to hers. She felt him behind her, his erection fitting snugly against her bottom. She pushed backwards, still swaying to the music, watching as his hands slid down her short skirt. The material ended at mid-thigh but his touch continued beyond that, sliding over her bare skin then back up so that the tips of his fingers raised the skirt slightly. Not high enough to flash anyone but certainly daring.
A thrill raced through her, a visceral thrill that had a weight to it. Lucas exhaled sharply against her neck and she felt his lips kiss her there.
She arched her neck, brushed her bottom against his hardness with a shifting of her hips.
“Do not taunt me. You need to get control of yourself. Of this.”
“Do I? You're 1600 years old, exercise your own restraint,” she said and twined her fingers with his, pulling them away from the hem of her skirt. She dragged his hands up her body, past her stomach, locking his arms with hers so that his forearms were pressed against her chest, keeping his body flush against hers.
Her nipples pebbled in response and he ground against her backside, his tongue darting out to taste her neck. “I spend every moment with you controlling myself. Do you know how exciting that is? How painful and frustrating at the same time? It is torture and I want it. I can not stand it but I need it.”
She leaned back into him, his lips and breath tickling her ear as he talked to her. Time slowed down, all sensation concentrating on her neck as his mouth hovered a moment above her skin and then lowered, his lips touching her soft skin. She breathed in, feeling his desire to drink her. It would be stupid to say it made her feel thirsty, she didn't imagine the blood, what the liquid was, it was the craving that struck her, the frantic need to feel one's dehydration being quenched.
For a second she prayed he would do it, urged him on, thought about how great it would feel. She threw the thought away from her, out into the crowd and could feel it ricocheting around the room like a stray bullet, slamming back into Lucas, forcing his desire higher so that he groaned against her.
She turned in his arms, reaching up, standing on tiptoes to reach his lips. “Make them look away.”
His arm tightened around her and she knew he didn’t like that idea. His hand was close to her ass and he gripped it, pulling her closer so she could feel his erection pressed against her stomach.
“No. I’ll take you home.”
“No. Here,” she said, in the way only the incredibly drunk can do. “You can make them look away, can’t you?”
He began to shake his head no, but she reached between them, gripped him through his clothes, put her head on his neck and then tilted it upwards, rubbing her face along that strong column of his neck.
“Now,” she said again, “here. I’m not wearing any underwear.”
She’d swear she felt his cock jerk against her stomach.
There was the faintest blurring, a chill, and then her back was against a wall. He’d moved them to the corner of the bar. It was dark and shadowed. No one was looking. Her heart pounded, her sex clenched, ready and expectant. She wanted something outrageous. Something public. Even if it wasn’t.
He kissed her collarbone, his hands on her breasts, his thumbs rubbing across her nipples. His leg slid between hers, his thigh shoved tight against her mound, sending waves of pleasure cascading through her body as he pressed against her clitoris. His hand landed on her ass with a gentle smack, sliding over the material of her skirt, hoisting her against him as he cupped her between her cheeks, pulling her high onto his thigh, forcing her to ride his leg as he pleasured her.
She pulled him closer, tried to press back, put one hand between their bodies and with shaking hands managed to get his pants undone, part the fabric. She felt him still for a moment, raise his head and look her in the eyes, a look of possession and passion and want. She gripped his cock, and he thrust forward into her closed fist with a groan. Her thumb swiped over the crown, finding him slick with desire. Her other hand reached down, surrounded his heavy testicles as she rubbed the pre-come over his sensitive head.
His lips were parted. He swallowed, trembled, closed his eyes as he thrust against her again. He rocked her against his leg, faster, tighter, pressing deeper until she cried out his name. And then he shifted, withdrawing from her grip.
“Up,” he ordered and lifted her, his hands coming under her thighs, fingers sliding through her folds. She was hot, knew how wet she was. He bit his lip as he stroked her damp folds. One hand left her, his hips already moving, his breath heavy and she felt him at her entrance. Her back hit the wall, he slid her down slightly and then he was inside her, buried to the hilt.
The position was awkward, no heavy thrusts, no fierce pounding, just slow and easy, the movements contrasted with their mouths, kissing furiously as he slid his tongue along hers, tasting her, craving her.
She bit him, hard. He didn’t even flinch, just groaned desperately as his grip on her legs shifted, tightening as he urged her thighs wider, wanting her to take him deeper. He ground into her and she tasted the metallic copper of his blood.
It hit her, made her lightheaded, made her come on a scream but still he worked, pounding away inside of her as he chased his own release. “Bite me,” she said, “please.”
He made a noise, halfway between a cry and a plea, his head dropping down to the junction of her neck. She felt him breathing, huge draughts of air that he inhaled as he thrust inside of her.
This time he’ll do it, she thought and her body contracted, the idea itself an aphrodisiac.
He licked her pulse, just a swipe of his tongue. Her hands went under his shirt, touched his chest, played with his nipples and she felt his nose pressing hard into her neck, his pace faltering a little. “Please,” She begged and squeezed him, using her muscles on him, thighs, vagina, fingers digging into his skin, willing him to do it.
He put her down. One second he was in her and then he wasn’t. She felt empty, gaping, needing him back inside of her. She saw his cock, huge, glistening and unsatisfied as he stood two feet away from her, panting like a stallion after a mare. He grabbed her arm, turned her into the wall, lifting her skirt back up, pulling her hips out and then he was back inside of her, taking her from behind. Sheathing himself inside of her in one smooth thrust.
She felt his hand on her clitoris, working her towards another orgasm while his other hand twined into her hair, pulled her neck to the side so it was exposed, pulled taut, perfect to bite. Her whole body went limp and she swore, felt him pounding inside of her, picking up speed, and had no will to protest.
He held her still, conquered her and it was heaven. She felt his lips on her neck and began to beg, trying to thrust her hips back, have him fuck her harder, faster.
“No,” he said in a voice just above a whisper, a voice filled with anger and despair, “Like this, just like this,” he growled and his lips touched her neck lightly, so lightly she wasn’t sure he was there. But his nose pressed hard to the side of her jaw and she could feel the pants, the greedy gulps of air.
Then his lips pressed down, open on her neck, just enough space so he could speak, whether to convince her or him, she didn’t know. Over and over again he told her he wouldn’t do it, a promise, a curse, a denial to the pounding of his thrusts. “Just like this, I won’t do it. I swear I won’t. I swear. I sw—”
She felt his body go rigid, felt him come, his hand contracting on the front of her body, pressing hard, throwing her over the brink into another orgasm so they came together. She knew when he finished, felt his weight briefly on her back, her cheek pressed to the wall as he hugged her tight to him. And then he pulled out of her, lowered her skirt, brushed it to make sure it lay straight and pulled her back around to face him.
She watched him tuck himself away, watched his fingers, still glistening in the light as he buttoned his jeans and then he gave her a dark look, a look that promised a conversation, possibly a lecture. She found her gaze lingering on his lips and then wandering down her body to his cock, wondering if she could get out of having a conversation if she—
“No,” he said with finality and he gripped her hand in hers, taking them from the bar and back to his room. Buzz kill.
#
“Take a shower and get dressed. I have things for you to wear in the closet.”
She pursed her lips as she walked into his huge bathroom, looking at the marble walls, marble floors, all of it a nice sand like color. “You’re sharing your closet with me?”
He was opening a linen cupboard built into the wall and pulled out a gigantic and fluffy looking towel. “Yes, you may even leave some things here. Do you want a drawer or an entire wardrobe?”
She crossed her arms. “Sorry. I don’t know if it’s because you’re not looking at me or what, but how serious are you? You would really let me have…space in your home?” Maybe I am good in bed.
He set the towels on the edge of the tub, then reached in to the shower, a huge open space with a glass enclosure and turned on the water before answering. He turned around and looked at her. “Space is a big deal. The symbolism being that if I am willing to let you into my home I may let you into—” would he say ‘my heart’, she wondered—“my life. You are in my life. I want you with me and I want you comfortable. You may have a closet, you may have a room or a wing. Whatever you desire. Now, take a shower. We leave in 30 minutes.” And then he left the room, shutting the door so she was alone.
Val stripped and went under the hot water. She loved this shower. She’d been in this shower less than two hours ago. But all the towels she’d used were gone, like the maid was loitering and the moment they stepped out would frantically clean. Now that was good service.
Shoot, that alone made her happy to stay. This was it, she was now firmly sleeping with Lucas. In his bed and, truthfully, the sex was so good she wasn’t sure when she’d leave it.
What else was there to do, anyway? She could go back to school she supposed. Geez, should she get a job? Her father was dead. She and Jack had some serious issues they might never work through. She was out of the vampire hunting business for real. So would she just hang around and be Lucas’ whore?
Hang around, screw him and hope she could be happy even if he didn’t love her. Jesus. Jesus, she was going to have to do something. Why don’t you focus on the here and now, you moron? Okay, what was the here and now? Someone from the Fey had a hold on her. And it could be a big deal. Not that she saw how. In her dream, she’d felt peaceful. There was nothing evil there. And Rachel was going to break the hold, right? So what was the problem. She got out of the shower and walked out to his bedroom, finding Lucas standing over a pile of clothes, a cup of coffee in his hand.
“You like coffee?” she asked, the idea making her happy somehow. It was relatable. Would he blow on the surface to cool it down or did he drink it hot because he didn’t have to worry about burning himself? Did he take cream and sugar?
“No. It is for you.” He held it out to her. “I do not want you going to the fey inebriated.”
“I’m not inebriated. I could say that word ten times fast if I had to.”
“Fine . Tipsy. Here.” He thrust it at her and she took the mug then set it down on the nightstand in order to look at the clothes on the bed.
“Drink it,” he said to her arrogantly, slight surprise in his voice, as if he’d expected her to guzzle it the moment he handed it to her.
“I want to get dressed first.”
“And I want you sober.” His words were chill and flat. It was clear he was irritated. “I understand that you have no concept of the Fey, no reason to fear them. Their magic can be drugging, their victims often die or are abducted with a smile upon their faces, but this is a concern. The sooner we get there, break the hold upon you, the better.”
“Are you sure you don’t want them to have a hold upon me? Don’t you want to find them?”
He looked at her and it made her feel warm, a flush spreading over her body from the heat and weight of his gaze. “Not as much as I want you safe.”
She felt her heart melt, had that slightly choked feeling that meant she was feeling sentimental and might cry. Why? Because she could interpret that as a sign that he cared? Because he could say the right things but feel nothing? She knew he was emotionally blank. Felt it from him. He’d be just as irritated if one of his people were taken by the Fey, she thought.
Val turned her attention to the clothes on the bed and got dressed. She’d worry about it later. After the Fey.
This would have been chapter 26. After V and L have sex, before the Fey. FYI-- The tone of the deleted scene was so different from LIF (I had just finished writing a m/m erotica [Three to Waltz under the penname Chloe Hanson] when I went back to writing) that it had to go. Sigh. Hope you like it-- it's graphic. You've been warned!! :)
THAT MEANS SEX! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED! GO AWAY MOM AND DAD!
He looked at the door like he wanted to leave. “I will not go to the Fey without being at full strength. I must feed. I will be back as soon as I may.”
Don’t do it. Oh god, she tried to bite the words back. He stood, started walking towards the door, and she couldn’t help herself. “Who is it?”
Lucas turned back and looked at her. “It does not even matter. I could not give you a name if I wanted to. I do not ask and I do not care. The only thing I am thinking now is that I have to keep you safe. Do not ask me to jeopardize that.”
“What if I did?”
He shook his head. A warning.
“What if I did?” she repeated.
“Don’t.” And then he was out the door and Val was alone, in his bed, with no underwear.
Val dressed, and went downstairs onto the main street. She found a 24 hour pharmacy and bought some underwear with days of the week on them. Definitely not her first choice. She wasn’t up on her laundry enough to get the days right. What if she wore Thursday on a Sunday? Everyone would think she’d been wearing the same underwear for days.
Really, Val? This is what you’re thinking about? This Fey thing sounds like a big deal. A big problem and you want to rhapsodize about underwear?
She could see her hotel in the distance but the door to a bar was open, inviting. If she was going to die, shouldn’t she have one last drink? No, she needed to go back to the hotel. That Rhiannon song, Only Girl in the World came on and Val took it as an omen. How come no one treated her like she was the only girl in the world? Fuck it. She would drink to that.
#
The bar was standing room only. She was leaning against the wooden bar top, watching the bartender make a gin and diet tonic. Mostly gin. Some guy would no doubt reap the reward of some drunken chick tonight.
This was her third glass of champagne. The bubbles were working and hey, if she was going to die, might as well have the good stuff, right?
She closed her eyes and felt it-- A pull, as though a wave of desire was moving towards her. She opened her eyes and saw Lucas walking towards her, people instinctively moving out of his way. She smiled at him in irritation and he shook his head, as though disagreeing with her. I haven’t even said anything and he’s saying no!
She kept her back to him. Butterflies flitted around in her stomach as she waited for him to get to her. Music was blaring, the beat heavy and she let it wash through her, each pulse resonating in her core so that it was almost seductive, pleasurable, a feeling she couldn't resist. Close to desire. She remembered straddling Lucas, kissing him, grinding against him.
Hands slipped around her waist and she looked down. Lucas was a solid weight at her back, his body conforming to hers. She felt him behind her, his erection fitting snugly against her bottom. She pushed backwards, still swaying to the music, watching as his hands slid down her short skirt. The material ended at mid-thigh but his touch continued beyond that, sliding over her bare skin then back up so that the tips of his fingers raised the skirt slightly. Not high enough to flash anyone but certainly daring.
A thrill raced through her, a visceral thrill that had a weight to it. Lucas exhaled sharply against her neck and she felt his lips kiss her there.
She arched her neck, brushed her bottom against his hardness with a shifting of her hips.
“Do not taunt me. You need to get control of yourself. Of this.”
“Do I? You're 1600 years old, exercise your own restraint,” she said and twined her fingers with his, pulling them away from the hem of her skirt. She dragged his hands up her body, past her stomach, locking his arms with hers so that his forearms were pressed against her chest, keeping his body flush against hers.
Her nipples pebbled in response and he ground against her backside, his tongue darting out to taste her neck. “I spend every moment with you controlling myself. Do you know how exciting that is? How painful and frustrating at the same time? It is torture and I want it. I can not stand it but I need it.”
She leaned back into him, his lips and breath tickling her ear as he talked to her. Time slowed down, all sensation concentrating on her neck as his mouth hovered a moment above her skin and then lowered, his lips touching her soft skin. She breathed in, feeling his desire to drink her. It would be stupid to say it made her feel thirsty, she didn't imagine the blood, what the liquid was, it was the craving that struck her, the frantic need to feel one's dehydration being quenched.
For a second she prayed he would do it, urged him on, thought about how great it would feel. She threw the thought away from her, out into the crowd and could feel it ricocheting around the room like a stray bullet, slamming back into Lucas, forcing his desire higher so that he groaned against her.
She turned in his arms, reaching up, standing on tiptoes to reach his lips. “Make them look away.”
His arm tightened around her and she knew he didn’t like that idea. His hand was close to her ass and he gripped it, pulling her closer so she could feel his erection pressed against her stomach.
“No. I’ll take you home.”
“No. Here,” she said, in the way only the incredibly drunk can do. “You can make them look away, can’t you?”
He began to shake his head no, but she reached between them, gripped him through his clothes, put her head on his neck and then tilted it upwards, rubbing her face along that strong column of his neck.
“Now,” she said again, “here. I’m not wearing any underwear.”
She’d swear she felt his cock jerk against her stomach.
There was the faintest blurring, a chill, and then her back was against a wall. He’d moved them to the corner of the bar. It was dark and shadowed. No one was looking. Her heart pounded, her sex clenched, ready and expectant. She wanted something outrageous. Something public. Even if it wasn’t.
He kissed her collarbone, his hands on her breasts, his thumbs rubbing across her nipples. His leg slid between hers, his thigh shoved tight against her mound, sending waves of pleasure cascading through her body as he pressed against her clitoris. His hand landed on her ass with a gentle smack, sliding over the material of her skirt, hoisting her against him as he cupped her between her cheeks, pulling her high onto his thigh, forcing her to ride his leg as he pleasured her.
She pulled him closer, tried to press back, put one hand between their bodies and with shaking hands managed to get his pants undone, part the fabric. She felt him still for a moment, raise his head and look her in the eyes, a look of possession and passion and want. She gripped his cock, and he thrust forward into her closed fist with a groan. Her thumb swiped over the crown, finding him slick with desire. Her other hand reached down, surrounded his heavy testicles as she rubbed the pre-come over his sensitive head.
His lips were parted. He swallowed, trembled, closed his eyes as he thrust against her again. He rocked her against his leg, faster, tighter, pressing deeper until she cried out his name. And then he shifted, withdrawing from her grip.
“Up,” he ordered and lifted her, his hands coming under her thighs, fingers sliding through her folds. She was hot, knew how wet she was. He bit his lip as he stroked her damp folds. One hand left her, his hips already moving, his breath heavy and she felt him at her entrance. Her back hit the wall, he slid her down slightly and then he was inside her, buried to the hilt.
The position was awkward, no heavy thrusts, no fierce pounding, just slow and easy, the movements contrasted with their mouths, kissing furiously as he slid his tongue along hers, tasting her, craving her.
She bit him, hard. He didn’t even flinch, just groaned desperately as his grip on her legs shifted, tightening as he urged her thighs wider, wanting her to take him deeper. He ground into her and she tasted the metallic copper of his blood.
It hit her, made her lightheaded, made her come on a scream but still he worked, pounding away inside of her as he chased his own release. “Bite me,” she said, “please.”
He made a noise, halfway between a cry and a plea, his head dropping down to the junction of her neck. She felt him breathing, huge draughts of air that he inhaled as he thrust inside of her.
This time he’ll do it, she thought and her body contracted, the idea itself an aphrodisiac.
He licked her pulse, just a swipe of his tongue. Her hands went under his shirt, touched his chest, played with his nipples and she felt his nose pressing hard into her neck, his pace faltering a little. “Please,” She begged and squeezed him, using her muscles on him, thighs, vagina, fingers digging into his skin, willing him to do it.
He put her down. One second he was in her and then he wasn’t. She felt empty, gaping, needing him back inside of her. She saw his cock, huge, glistening and unsatisfied as he stood two feet away from her, panting like a stallion after a mare. He grabbed her arm, turned her into the wall, lifting her skirt back up, pulling her hips out and then he was back inside of her, taking her from behind. Sheathing himself inside of her in one smooth thrust.
She felt his hand on her clitoris, working her towards another orgasm while his other hand twined into her hair, pulled her neck to the side so it was exposed, pulled taut, perfect to bite. Her whole body went limp and she swore, felt him pounding inside of her, picking up speed, and had no will to protest.
He held her still, conquered her and it was heaven. She felt his lips on her neck and began to beg, trying to thrust her hips back, have him fuck her harder, faster.
“No,” he said in a voice just above a whisper, a voice filled with anger and despair, “Like this, just like this,” he growled and his lips touched her neck lightly, so lightly she wasn’t sure he was there. But his nose pressed hard to the side of her jaw and she could feel the pants, the greedy gulps of air.
Then his lips pressed down, open on her neck, just enough space so he could speak, whether to convince her or him, she didn’t know. Over and over again he told her he wouldn’t do it, a promise, a curse, a denial to the pounding of his thrusts. “Just like this, I won’t do it. I swear I won’t. I swear. I sw—”
She felt his body go rigid, felt him come, his hand contracting on the front of her body, pressing hard, throwing her over the brink into another orgasm so they came together. She knew when he finished, felt his weight briefly on her back, her cheek pressed to the wall as he hugged her tight to him. And then he pulled out of her, lowered her skirt, brushed it to make sure it lay straight and pulled her back around to face him.
She watched him tuck himself away, watched his fingers, still glistening in the light as he buttoned his jeans and then he gave her a dark look, a look that promised a conversation, possibly a lecture. She found her gaze lingering on his lips and then wandering down her body to his cock, wondering if she could get out of having a conversation if she—
“No,” he said with finality and he gripped her hand in hers, taking them from the bar and back to his room. Buzz kill.
#
“Take a shower and get dressed. I have things for you to wear in the closet.”
She pursed her lips as she walked into his huge bathroom, looking at the marble walls, marble floors, all of it a nice sand like color. “You’re sharing your closet with me?”
He was opening a linen cupboard built into the wall and pulled out a gigantic and fluffy looking towel. “Yes, you may even leave some things here. Do you want a drawer or an entire wardrobe?”
She crossed her arms. “Sorry. I don’t know if it’s because you’re not looking at me or what, but how serious are you? You would really let me have…space in your home?” Maybe I am good in bed.
He set the towels on the edge of the tub, then reached in to the shower, a huge open space with a glass enclosure and turned on the water before answering. He turned around and looked at her. “Space is a big deal. The symbolism being that if I am willing to let you into my home I may let you into—” would he say ‘my heart’, she wondered—“my life. You are in my life. I want you with me and I want you comfortable. You may have a closet, you may have a room or a wing. Whatever you desire. Now, take a shower. We leave in 30 minutes.” And then he left the room, shutting the door so she was alone.
Val stripped and went under the hot water. She loved this shower. She’d been in this shower less than two hours ago. But all the towels she’d used were gone, like the maid was loitering and the moment they stepped out would frantically clean. Now that was good service.
Shoot, that alone made her happy to stay. This was it, she was now firmly sleeping with Lucas. In his bed and, truthfully, the sex was so good she wasn’t sure when she’d leave it.
What else was there to do, anyway? She could go back to school she supposed. Geez, should she get a job? Her father was dead. She and Jack had some serious issues they might never work through. She was out of the vampire hunting business for real. So would she just hang around and be Lucas’ whore?
Hang around, screw him and hope she could be happy even if he didn’t love her. Jesus. Jesus, she was going to have to do something. Why don’t you focus on the here and now, you moron? Okay, what was the here and now? Someone from the Fey had a hold on her. And it could be a big deal. Not that she saw how. In her dream, she’d felt peaceful. There was nothing evil there. And Rachel was going to break the hold, right? So what was the problem. She got out of the shower and walked out to his bedroom, finding Lucas standing over a pile of clothes, a cup of coffee in his hand.
“You like coffee?” she asked, the idea making her happy somehow. It was relatable. Would he blow on the surface to cool it down or did he drink it hot because he didn’t have to worry about burning himself? Did he take cream and sugar?
“No. It is for you.” He held it out to her. “I do not want you going to the fey inebriated.”
“I’m not inebriated. I could say that word ten times fast if I had to.”
“Fine . Tipsy. Here.” He thrust it at her and she took the mug then set it down on the nightstand in order to look at the clothes on the bed.
“Drink it,” he said to her arrogantly, slight surprise in his voice, as if he’d expected her to guzzle it the moment he handed it to her.
“I want to get dressed first.”
“And I want you sober.” His words were chill and flat. It was clear he was irritated. “I understand that you have no concept of the Fey, no reason to fear them. Their magic can be drugging, their victims often die or are abducted with a smile upon their faces, but this is a concern. The sooner we get there, break the hold upon you, the better.”
“Are you sure you don’t want them to have a hold upon me? Don’t you want to find them?”
He looked at her and it made her feel warm, a flush spreading over her body from the heat and weight of his gaze. “Not as much as I want you safe.”
She felt her heart melt, had that slightly choked feeling that meant she was feeling sentimental and might cry. Why? Because she could interpret that as a sign that he cared? Because he could say the right things but feel nothing? She knew he was emotionally blank. Felt it from him. He’d be just as irritated if one of his people were taken by the Fey, she thought.
Val turned her attention to the clothes on the bed and got dressed. She’d worry about it later. After the Fey.
Why I won't read your book if you ask me to
So there I was looking at Loretta Chase's blog (I love, love, love her books and had the honor of meeting her at RT. There is a picture of me and her on my facebook page. I'm the one who was so overwhelmed I started to cry. Yes to the patheticness.) Anyway, so I was clicking through her links which led me to a post about what to do when asked to read someone's manuscript. I'm going to post Tess Gerritson and Orson Scott Card's responses to this question because...it's reached that point.
It's sort of surreal to be successful enough that I have to turn people away when they ask me to read their manuscript but I do. Whoda thunk. So please don't ask me.
This is from Tess Gerritsen's blog:
“HOW DARE YOU NOT READ MY MANUSCRIPT?”Wednesday, Feb 15th, 2006 @ 09:36 pmOn Valentine’s day, I guest-blogged over at that great website MurderSheWrites.com, about my experience with an unpublished writer who’d just finished his first manuscript. My blog wasn’t actually about manuscript critiquing, but about how writers have to pay attention to their emotions when they write. My blog received a number of comments from readers. Among them was this one:“How nice. I wonder if you remember when YOU had just finished writing your very first novel. Who helped you along on the journey? Or did all of your published (and not) friends avoid meeting with you, assuming you’d written nothing “marginally publishable”?I’m sorry new novelists offend you, Tess. I’m glad you weren’t on my “must call” list when I finally completed the monumental task of finishing my first book. I may never have completed the second.”My response to that? Thank GOD I’m not on your “must call list.” Because not only will you EXPECT me to be thrilled to read your work, you’ll also probably be truly pissed off if I tell you I don’t like it.When I was a first-time novelist, with my first manuscript, did I expect a published friend to to spend eight hours (or more) reading it and critiquing it?Absolutely not. I wrote my book and I landed my own agent. By myself. That’s how I thought writers were supposed to do it.I think it’s perfectly legitimate for unpublished authors to ask published authors for agent recommendations or about trends in the marketplace. And these questions should be asked in a way that minimizes the published author’s time commitment. If she’s a good friend, then you can do it over coffee. If you barely know her, then by email. But I would never have dreamed of asking a busy novelist to read my entire manuscript.And now that I’m a published novelist, I avoid reading them. Here’s why:First, there’s the time factor. I get several requests a week from unpublished, unsold writers wondering if I’ll read their manuscripts. (I am NOT talking about novelists who’ve already landed a publisher and are seeking blurbs for book covers. Those are legitimate requests. I can’t honor most of them due to time constraints, but I do try.) If I were to say yes to every unpublished author’s request, I wouldn’t have time to write my own books. And truly, I’m astounded that people whom I don’t know, or hardly know, would come up to me and essentially ask, “Say, will you spend eight hours reading my incredible literary work?” Because that’s what it works out to. Eight hours of work.And if you don’t see my point, think about this. What if someone you barely know says to you: “Hey, wouldn’t you love to come over and spend eight hours cleaning my house?”You’d tell them thanks, but no thanks.Which will then earn you the resentful comment: “But you OWE it to me because your house is so clean! Your clean house makes you OBLIGATED to help me!”If the person asking me to clean their house is my mother or an elderly friend, you betcha I’ll go over and help clean the house.Same with reading manuscripts. Mothers and close friends get special dispensation.But when I hear unpublished authors whine that published authors are OBLIGATED to help them get published, that’s when my blood goes from simmer to boil.Then, there’s the other reason I don’t read unsold manuscripts: It can lead to legal nightmares.This is not just an excuse that we authors give to avoid reading unpubbed manuscripts — this is a real and serious concern for us. My literary agent has a bestselling client who, to be nice, once agreed to read an acquaintance’s unpublished manuscript. Then she got sued. By this very acquaintance. “You stole my story idea!” was the charge.Needless to say, my literary agent now warns all her clients not to read unpublished manuscripts written by people they don’t know well.I myself had a similar experience. I teach a writing course once a year down in Cape Cod, for doctors who want to become writers. Soon after my book BODY DOUBLE came out, I got a threatening email from one of the course attendees who said she was taking action to sue me for “stealing her idea.” The idea that I supposedly stole was about pregnant women getting murdered for their unborn babies.I didn’t remember this woman. I never read her manuscript (it was read by someone else on the course faculty). And the idea I “stole” is hardly steal-able, as the murder of pregnant women for their babies is a crime that pops up in the news just about every year. But what if I HAD read this woman’s manuscript? What if (as often happens in literature) there WERE similarities in our plots? I could have ended up in court. I could have suffered through months of stress and attorney’s fees.All because I read an unpublished manuscript.Maybe I’m coming across as a hard ass about this. Yes, I know there are heart-warming stories out there, about New Author John Smith who got published because Bestselling Author Jane Doe read his manuscript, loved it, and sent it to her agent. But I can guarantee that John Smith didn’t just send it to Jane Doe out of the blue, and tell her that she was OBLIGATED to help him out. Maybe Jane was teaching a writing course, and he was her student. Maybe they were already friends. Maybe Jane judged a writers’ contest, and his story stood out. (While teaching writing courses, I myself have discovered terrific unsold manuscripts, and have always been happy to help shepherd them to a literary agent, because I LOVE it when a new author lands her first book sale.)But approach an author you hardly know and ask her to read your unsold manuscript?No.Think of it as a reverse Nike ad.Just Don’t Do It.
From Orson Scott Card: Question: Will you read my book/story/manuscript?Answer:Dear Fellow Writers:Why I Will Not Read Your Manuscript.If you're hoping I'll write you a glowing letter of recommendation:You don't need it. What you need is a "wise reader," as I describe in my booksCharacter and Viewpoint and How to Write Science Fiction and Fantasy. What do you think a professional writer will do for you that your own "wise reader" can't do? Are you hoping I'll write a glowing letter of recommendation? Even if I did, it won't do any good. The editor will still make up his own mind. In fact, for all you know the editor might hate my fiction and think I'm an idiot, in which case my praise will be a negative. All that matters is the manuscript you wrote. Editors are hungry for good writing. If that's what you give them, they'll say so. If they don't recognize good writing when they see it, my letter won't help.If you're hoping I'll give you wise advice that will make your manuscript publishable:It's a waste of time. When I do read manuscripts in detail, critiquing them, generally the problems are serious enough that a complete rewrite is required. Few writers have the heart for it. My experience is that only one out of a hundred writers actually follows a single suggestion I make. And even if you try, there's no guarantee that you'll understand the suggestion, or that you'll be ready as a writer to do the thing I'm suggesting you do. Since I know from the start that in all likelihood you're not going to do a thing I say, why should I waste my time?If you are a friend or acquaintance and/or you swear you'll do everything I say:I'm not going to read it anyway. Even on those rare occasions when I agree to read a manuscript, it just goes on a pile of manuscripts that I really, really, really intend to read Real Soon Now. Only there has never yet been a morning when I woke up and thought, "I don't have a thing to do today! I think I'll read some of those manuscripts I've got piled up!" At the end of the day, I don't ever, ever say to my wife, "I'm done for the day and I don't need to go to bed for another hour. Where are those manuscripts so I can read one?" The result is that a year or two later, you feel bitter and unhappy about the fact that I never responded, and I feel guilty about not having read what you sent me, and so both of us are miserable, and the manuscript isn't read anyway -- so why not skip all the misery and just not send it to me in the first place?I'm not proud of this -- but I've lived with me long enough to know this is what always happens, so I might as well be honest about it.If you're thinking of offering me money to read your manuscript:Give it to a good charity. I don't need your money. You don't have enough to tempt me. And even if you did, what I gave you in return would not be worth it.If you're annoyed or angry that I won't help a struggling young writer:My job is writing fiction. The only thing I owe to other writers is what I owe to other readers: To do the best I can with my own storytelling. When I teach writing, it's a hobby. I do it for love. Nobody has a right to demand that I teach them how to write or help them get published. So take a few deep breaths, return to the rational world, and then send your manuscript to agents and editors -- that is their job.Is there ever a time when I'll read a manuscript?Yes, if you're a former student of mine and you're in the room with me while I read. That's it. That's the only way I ever read manuscripts. If you have taken a class or workshop with me, then you have the lifetime right to consultation. But only on the first few dozen pages of an unfinished manuscript, and only in person, with you sitting there to receive my comments as I read.Oh, yeah. There's one other exception. If your mother and my mother have the same yearbook picture, and we used to play Risk or Pit or Nurtz together as children. And even then I'm not very reliable.If you're thinking to yourself that you're the exception, that if you just think of a clever enough way to ask me, I'll read your manuscript and it will make all the difference in your career:It wouldn't, so I won't, so you can't, so you're not.Regretfully yours,Orson Scott Card
It's sort of surreal to be successful enough that I have to turn people away when they ask me to read their manuscript but I do. Whoda thunk. So please don't ask me.
This is from Tess Gerritsen's blog:
“HOW DARE YOU NOT READ MY MANUSCRIPT?”Wednesday, Feb 15th, 2006 @ 09:36 pmOn Valentine’s day, I guest-blogged over at that great website MurderSheWrites.com, about my experience with an unpublished writer who’d just finished his first manuscript. My blog wasn’t actually about manuscript critiquing, but about how writers have to pay attention to their emotions when they write. My blog received a number of comments from readers. Among them was this one:“How nice. I wonder if you remember when YOU had just finished writing your very first novel. Who helped you along on the journey? Or did all of your published (and not) friends avoid meeting with you, assuming you’d written nothing “marginally publishable”?I’m sorry new novelists offend you, Tess. I’m glad you weren’t on my “must call” list when I finally completed the monumental task of finishing my first book. I may never have completed the second.”My response to that? Thank GOD I’m not on your “must call list.” Because not only will you EXPECT me to be thrilled to read your work, you’ll also probably be truly pissed off if I tell you I don’t like it.When I was a first-time novelist, with my first manuscript, did I expect a published friend to to spend eight hours (or more) reading it and critiquing it?Absolutely not. I wrote my book and I landed my own agent. By myself. That’s how I thought writers were supposed to do it.I think it’s perfectly legitimate for unpublished authors to ask published authors for agent recommendations or about trends in the marketplace. And these questions should be asked in a way that minimizes the published author’s time commitment. If she’s a good friend, then you can do it over coffee. If you barely know her, then by email. But I would never have dreamed of asking a busy novelist to read my entire manuscript.And now that I’m a published novelist, I avoid reading them. Here’s why:First, there’s the time factor. I get several requests a week from unpublished, unsold writers wondering if I’ll read their manuscripts. (I am NOT talking about novelists who’ve already landed a publisher and are seeking blurbs for book covers. Those are legitimate requests. I can’t honor most of them due to time constraints, but I do try.) If I were to say yes to every unpublished author’s request, I wouldn’t have time to write my own books. And truly, I’m astounded that people whom I don’t know, or hardly know, would come up to me and essentially ask, “Say, will you spend eight hours reading my incredible literary work?” Because that’s what it works out to. Eight hours of work.And if you don’t see my point, think about this. What if someone you barely know says to you: “Hey, wouldn’t you love to come over and spend eight hours cleaning my house?”You’d tell them thanks, but no thanks.Which will then earn you the resentful comment: “But you OWE it to me because your house is so clean! Your clean house makes you OBLIGATED to help me!”If the person asking me to clean their house is my mother or an elderly friend, you betcha I’ll go over and help clean the house.Same with reading manuscripts. Mothers and close friends get special dispensation.But when I hear unpublished authors whine that published authors are OBLIGATED to help them get published, that’s when my blood goes from simmer to boil.Then, there’s the other reason I don’t read unsold manuscripts: It can lead to legal nightmares.This is not just an excuse that we authors give to avoid reading unpubbed manuscripts — this is a real and serious concern for us. My literary agent has a bestselling client who, to be nice, once agreed to read an acquaintance’s unpublished manuscript. Then she got sued. By this very acquaintance. “You stole my story idea!” was the charge.Needless to say, my literary agent now warns all her clients not to read unpublished manuscripts written by people they don’t know well.I myself had a similar experience. I teach a writing course once a year down in Cape Cod, for doctors who want to become writers. Soon after my book BODY DOUBLE came out, I got a threatening email from one of the course attendees who said she was taking action to sue me for “stealing her idea.” The idea that I supposedly stole was about pregnant women getting murdered for their unborn babies.I didn’t remember this woman. I never read her manuscript (it was read by someone else on the course faculty). And the idea I “stole” is hardly steal-able, as the murder of pregnant women for their babies is a crime that pops up in the news just about every year. But what if I HAD read this woman’s manuscript? What if (as often happens in literature) there WERE similarities in our plots? I could have ended up in court. I could have suffered through months of stress and attorney’s fees.All because I read an unpublished manuscript.Maybe I’m coming across as a hard ass about this. Yes, I know there are heart-warming stories out there, about New Author John Smith who got published because Bestselling Author Jane Doe read his manuscript, loved it, and sent it to her agent. But I can guarantee that John Smith didn’t just send it to Jane Doe out of the blue, and tell her that she was OBLIGATED to help him out. Maybe Jane was teaching a writing course, and he was her student. Maybe they were already friends. Maybe Jane judged a writers’ contest, and his story stood out. (While teaching writing courses, I myself have discovered terrific unsold manuscripts, and have always been happy to help shepherd them to a literary agent, because I LOVE it when a new author lands her first book sale.)But approach an author you hardly know and ask her to read your unsold manuscript?No.Think of it as a reverse Nike ad.Just Don’t Do It.
From Orson Scott Card: Question: Will you read my book/story/manuscript?Answer:Dear Fellow Writers:Why I Will Not Read Your Manuscript.If you're hoping I'll write you a glowing letter of recommendation:You don't need it. What you need is a "wise reader," as I describe in my booksCharacter and Viewpoint and How to Write Science Fiction and Fantasy. What do you think a professional writer will do for you that your own "wise reader" can't do? Are you hoping I'll write a glowing letter of recommendation? Even if I did, it won't do any good. The editor will still make up his own mind. In fact, for all you know the editor might hate my fiction and think I'm an idiot, in which case my praise will be a negative. All that matters is the manuscript you wrote. Editors are hungry for good writing. If that's what you give them, they'll say so. If they don't recognize good writing when they see it, my letter won't help.If you're hoping I'll give you wise advice that will make your manuscript publishable:It's a waste of time. When I do read manuscripts in detail, critiquing them, generally the problems are serious enough that a complete rewrite is required. Few writers have the heart for it. My experience is that only one out of a hundred writers actually follows a single suggestion I make. And even if you try, there's no guarantee that you'll understand the suggestion, or that you'll be ready as a writer to do the thing I'm suggesting you do. Since I know from the start that in all likelihood you're not going to do a thing I say, why should I waste my time?If you are a friend or acquaintance and/or you swear you'll do everything I say:I'm not going to read it anyway. Even on those rare occasions when I agree to read a manuscript, it just goes on a pile of manuscripts that I really, really, really intend to read Real Soon Now. Only there has never yet been a morning when I woke up and thought, "I don't have a thing to do today! I think I'll read some of those manuscripts I've got piled up!" At the end of the day, I don't ever, ever say to my wife, "I'm done for the day and I don't need to go to bed for another hour. Where are those manuscripts so I can read one?" The result is that a year or two later, you feel bitter and unhappy about the fact that I never responded, and I feel guilty about not having read what you sent me, and so both of us are miserable, and the manuscript isn't read anyway -- so why not skip all the misery and just not send it to me in the first place?I'm not proud of this -- but I've lived with me long enough to know this is what always happens, so I might as well be honest about it.If you're thinking of offering me money to read your manuscript:Give it to a good charity. I don't need your money. You don't have enough to tempt me. And even if you did, what I gave you in return would not be worth it.If you're annoyed or angry that I won't help a struggling young writer:My job is writing fiction. The only thing I owe to other writers is what I owe to other readers: To do the best I can with my own storytelling. When I teach writing, it's a hobby. I do it for love. Nobody has a right to demand that I teach them how to write or help them get published. So take a few deep breaths, return to the rational world, and then send your manuscript to agents and editors -- that is their job.Is there ever a time when I'll read a manuscript?Yes, if you're a former student of mine and you're in the room with me while I read. That's it. That's the only way I ever read manuscripts. If you have taken a class or workshop with me, then you have the lifetime right to consultation. But only on the first few dozen pages of an unfinished manuscript, and only in person, with you sitting there to receive my comments as I read.Oh, yeah. There's one other exception. If your mother and my mother have the same yearbook picture, and we used to play Risk or Pit or Nurtz together as children. And even then I'm not very reliable.If you're thinking to yourself that you're the exception, that if you just think of a clever enough way to ask me, I'll read your manuscript and it will make all the difference in your career:It wouldn't, so I won't, so you can't, so you're not.Regretfully yours,Orson Scott Card
April 23, 2012
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April 8, 2012
Maryse's review of LID. So excited!
Book Review – Love is Darkness by Caroline Hansonby MARYSE on APRIL 8, 2012 · 4 COMMENTSin URBAN FANTASY
Love is Darkness (A Valerie Dearborn Novel)I finished this one with a smile on my face. LOVED every minute of it. Never got bored, and never put it down. Nope. Start to finish I devoured it. AND!! I felt all of the emotion and turmoil and apprehension and… *ahem* other stuff 
as the story progressed. The connections intensified, the course of events were realistic (well.. hehe. As realistic as a world with vampires can be…), and ummm.. you know. There's plenty of steamy in here. This is NOT YA. BUT!! The "steamy scenes" teased!! BIG TIME. Quite detailed… and yet… left you wanting more. Another series were the reader is tantalized plenty, and things are not just "we're-already-in-love" handed to you.When the author first contacted (and sent me this novel), I immediately recognized the title as one that was so frequently recommended.Sandra emailed me saying:"It includes the scary but way cool vampires, hunters and Valerie who really just wants to be normal. Plus it was underpriced as an ebook. Love it ….couldn't put it down and now waiting, waiting for the second novel to be released in December. You have to read it .. Look forward to hearing what you think."Desiree emailed me saying:
"Maryse,You MUST read LOVE IS DARKNESS & LOVE IS PAIN by Caroline Hanson…alpha male x2 .. vampire. Can't believe you do not have it on your site!! You will LOVE LOVE LOVEPromise."and then the numerous Facebook and blog comment recommendations cinched it for me!
Kristina: Maryse I highly recommend A Valerie Dearborn Novel by Caroline Hanson (Love is Darkness & Love is Fear).. I read these 2 books in 1 day because they were THAT GOOD. Mega Alpha Vampire.. check.. average girl.. check.. average girl in love with a tortured badboy, CHECK, Mega Alpha Vamp interested in average girl & tortured boy getting pissed CHECK.. this is a different look @ the vamp world. The sex scenes are amazing & there is defintely HOLY SH*T moments.. I am desperately waiting for book 3 to come out. I have not been this excited since Fifty series & Effortless.. Especially for a paranormal romance. … if you want some hot vamps, hot humans, hot elves, etc.. then read these books asap!!Yanira: @Kristina thx for the recom, I had looked at these books, but now will read for sure!Patricia: I know Yanira, Kristina has peaked my curiosity, .,….I think I need a vampire change of paceKristy: Valerie Dearborn series for sure! I flew through them so frantically my kids had to eat pb&j sandwiches for diner cause I refused to stop reading to cookMaryse's Book Blog: … you guys telling me about the Valerie Dearborn series – I'm DYING to read this now. Anything that has you all ignoring your real lives MUST be good!Carrie: I finished Love is Darkness about 4 am earlier this week. Once I started I couldn't put it down! … Considering the cliffhanger moment at the end of Darkness, if Fear leaves off the same way I'm going to be DYING for 3.Dara: @Carrie…prepare yourself..it gets down right unfair…lol..but ohh you gotta read it!!Tasha: I just found these books on Amazon and I LOVE THEM!! I am so mad the next one does not come out till May the cliffhanger was fantastic. I was mad at everyone but her in the end and excited to read what is going to happen next. I love when you can find a book that brings out all your emotion…that is the difference between a good author and a great author.See? Over and over again, this many people just couldn't be wrong. And you know what, after book #1, I wholeheartedly agree. Another fantastic read!! (I've been having a really good book week!!)But here's an admission. At first I found myself just a tad… meh about the subject matter. I thought to myself, ahhhh another kick-butt vampire hunter female. I don't want them to hunt vampires!! I wanna them to cuddle vampires!! Yes, yes, I know. It usually always ends up that way anyway, so what was I worried about? I usually end up liking 'em just fine (even loving them – Cat and Bones anyone?). My apprehension of the "kick-butt" heroine is that I find I tend to connect more when the heroine is more "human" than super-human, ya know? Yeahhhh, you know. I've said that before. Some like 'em tough and already powerful, I tend to like 'em quirky and perfectly imperfect.And books like these that remind me of why I was such a vampire-addict when I first started reading again. It had everything I love in an urban fantasy. Valerie, a human female, (and okay, yes… she has a little something *special* to her). She is part "empath", meaning… I dunno. In this one, nothing to humans, no distinguishable powers at all, but when she is around the paranormal… ahhh the powers kick in, on an emotional level. See!? Totally relatable to us human readers. For all we know, at least as per Caroline Hanson's human/vampire world, we could be EMPATHS!! Uh huh!!! Weso could. I mean, who knows?! Maybe it's 'cause we just haven't met a vampire yet! Even if we didn't have any recognizable powers in our past and amongst our human entourage… *nods emphatically*No? ahhhh never mind. Tee hee!!! *blush*. Well… so? Still…. totally relatable now, when I put it that way, right?Anyhoooo…. so she's been in training to be a vampire hunter all of her life, as her mother was viciously murdered by one, and her father is on a path of vengeance. Along the way, a teenage boy (Jack) joined their cause of vengeance, as he too, lost his parents the same way. She crushed on him throughout her teenage life, and now that they're adults, Jack is hotter then ever. But… still rebuffing her. Well. Sorta.
"This has always been here Val. We know it and we avoid it because it doesn't change anything. All it will do is tear us apart."His motivation in life is focused on one thing. The extermination of vampires, and Valerie just doesn't really have it in her, nor does she want to be a vampire hunter. See!! I LOVED her!! Totally relatable 'cause I don't think I'd wanna be one either.But there's a vampire that has taken a keen interest in her.
And then he remembered the dead empath had a daughter.Interesting.Lucas is the oldest, most powerful, most gorgeous, most amazing, king of vampires. Except he is so ancient that his feelings, his empathy, his motivation is waning. Old vampires can't feel. And to feel, or have a semblance of feeling, they must do outrageous things. Like murder, pillage… world domination. You know, stuff like that.But when Lucas happens upon her bloodline, he secretly watches over her throughout her life. While Valerie does not know of her own powers and her effect on the paranormal world (especially vampires), she is a target. And on her first "stakeout" (hehe) with her father as a teenager, she is attacked, and Lucas secretly makes himself known to her, and teaches her a few things, himself.
"Kill him, Valerie. He attacked you."Huh. That's a twist. She shook her head and dropped the stake, hands nerveless in fear. "No. I don't want to.""Worse will come for you. You must learn to protect yourself. I cannot be here at all times. Do it now and with my protection. No harm shall come to you by my hand.And Lucas begins to gain her trust (of course, only while her father and Jack are looking the other way).
Did she fear Lucas? Hell, yeah! But would he hurt her?No.Her mind and body knew it, the answer resonating through her like the vibrations of a bell.And now that she is an adult, trying to live a "normal" life as a college student, trying to get passed her feeling of "Jack", Lucas comes back in her life with a proposal. Now she has to decide who she can trust, and who's telling the truth. The fate of humanity (and the paranormal world) is at stake, the balance is off, and with her assistance, his plans can possibly take fruition.
"There was a time when things were different. There was a balance in the world. There were Others. Not only vampires, but werewolves, Fey, witches, empaths – they were all real. All powerful. If one group became too bloodthirsty or powerful, the others could unite long enough to restore a balance." A long moment passed."What happened?""Only vampires remain and I rule them all."Except that his opponents have something different in mind, and now her whole "normal" life has just taken a paranormal dive. The very thing she resisted all of her teenage life, is now front row and center, and she can't ignore it anymore.Oh and… she can't ignore her extreme attraction to Lucas, either.
And yet, he'd been so compelling and fascinating, looked like some sort of medieval champion in Gucci, that if he was the face of evil, what the hell did good look like?Not only had Lucas saved her life, he'd helped her – been patient with her, taken away her fear, gone on to star in some of her better fantasies.And of course, there's Jack. He may be human, but he is no less steamy, I can promise you that. Yep.
He was her childhood love. Even though she was grown up, he was still around and in her life. He'd show up, be all alpha male say something about how important she was to him and she just… couldn't quite get over him.He was the fantasy.And I always hesitate when publicly comparing books to other books or series, but just to give you an idea, of the *feel* of it, at least for me, I want to say… and I will only say it in terms of the potential "love triangle" and not all of the other crazy stuff, but this one has that "Jean Claude/Richard/Anita" feel to it (pre-Anita's ardor and multi-animal stuff that happened to her).However Lucas is just… bigger, more masculine… seemingly much more powerful, and even sexier, to me. But If you've read Laurell K Hamilton's Anita Blake series, you'll know what I'm referring to. You know… when the books were great in the first half of the series? Of course Jack is not a were (at least not as far as I know), but it has that awesome delicious energy, and just… the *feel* of them, to me, is like that. Not that I'm complaining, because I've been dying to read another series in that vein. Heh. I said vein! No pun intended, but it turned out pretty good, didnt it?Now… it's not perfect. Some words missing here or there, and I found myself (at least in the beginning) wondering if I had just "missed" something, in the way some scenes changed, or some conversations occurred. It was rare, but I remember backtracking at a couple of times, checking to see if I had skipped a page. But this was only in the beginning, and didn't confuse me enough to be lost. And there are a few questions that I still have, such as… do all humans know that vampire exist in this series? Or is it just those that have been "attacked" or those that are in blood-relationships with them? Because there are plenty of human/vampire interactions throughout, so… maybe I missed that part?But overall, I was so thrilled with the story, that when I was done I just had that need to email the author and express my gratitude:
"Just to let you know I just finished "Love is Darkness" and loved it! Reminiscent of the vampire books I used to read and love when I first started in the genre. All that delicious tension! And scary, more traditional vampires. I've been needing something like this.*sigh* so much fun! And what an ending. I swear I'm crushing on Jack and Lucas equally."And all I can say now is wooooohooooo YAY because right after I'm done this review, I get to start book #2. And as they said up there, book #1 ends on a delicious little cliffhanger, so I can't wait to get back to into it.4.5 stars!
April 3, 2012
Guest Blogger VampireNovelFan - The BEST fresh faces in the vampire world
Hey all! Erika over at Your Urban Fantasy is going to be guest blogging about the most lively new vamps. If you have not checked out her sight, you should. Not only because I am guest blogging over there about my top three vamps of all time (which was pretty fracking hard to nail down) but because she is in the know and a voracious reader. Here is the link to her site as well as her list. Thoughts, my gentle readers?http://www.facebook.com/pages/Your-Urban-Fantasy/321611267861406
To piggy back off Caroline Hanson's guest post on my blog, listing the best vamps EVER, I think that new vamps deserve some love too if you consider the thousands of series out there. So while they may not be established as the best quite yet, I think I want to highlight a few up-and-coming vampires from series I've been reading lately.
Lucas from Valerie Dearborne novels - I'd been going through a bit of a drought when it came to finding a favorite new vamp, but then Love is Darkness fell into my lap. I found Lucas' character to be extremely refreshing, getting back to the basics of what it really means to be a vampire. Sure, they have feelings (though it's been a while for poor 1600 year 'ole Lucas), sure they are sexual, but they can't be easily manipulated or swayed by some ordinary girl in an attempt to make the reader connect with the relationship. I love that he's flawed, but unapologetic about it. He's confident, he's not self-loathing, and he's willing to defend his honor as king by any means necessary. Vampires are apex predators and if you ever doubt it, just read this book and see Lucas handle his business against those who challenge him. I got an actual rush from it. And I can't wait to see what else is in store for this character.
Prince Gareth from the Vampire Empire Trilogy. Can you say badass? I know I can! I'm super glad that my first foray into the steampunk vampire genre was with this series and this character. Without spoiling the best part of these books, Gareth experiences a personal journey that's full of adversity, and some pretty high intensity action scenes, but you have to admire his power, his determination, and especially his heart. He carries a lot of responsibility on his shoulders when it comes to the fate of his race, and he takes a very unconventional approach. He's extremely smart for a vampire, embracing a few human novelties in order to better understand the race. All the better to eat you with, my dear? Maybe, maybe not. You just have to read this series to know for sure. Like Lucas he's royalty, and like Lucas he's got the skills to prove himself as a worthy leader; however, unlike Lucas he has a completely different set of motivations and that makes him super intriguing. I am literally counting down to see how this wonderful trilogy will come to an end and what that entails for his character.
Raylene Pendle from the Cheshire Red Reports. Of course I had to inject a little bit of girl power into this post. And thankfully Cherie Priest feels the same when it comes to this genre. I totally love Raylene's character because she doesn't have to express her femininity by being super sultry or sexy, rather she does it through her actions; she cares about people and nurtures them, often unwittingly which makes it all the more endearing. Sure, she's completely neurotic, much to my personal enjoyment, but she's super effective at what she does as a professional thief, and she's coming up in her world organically, not through a hostile takeover as a result of her personal power hunger. Most times she's just trying to survive and those who are aiming for the same gravitate towards her, creating a family unit that's refreshing in Urban Fantasy. There is a sense of untapped power in Raylene and if this series could just GET AN EXTENSION, I believe we could see if pay off very nicely.I could probably write all day about new and up-and-coming vamps, but these are just a few that have stuck out to me recently. So do you guys have any favorite new vampires? I'd love to hear about it!
March 30, 2012
Romantic Times in Chicago April 11-15
I am going to RT soon and am really excited! I am not signing anywhere but will be around. If you want to meet up for coffee or a drink send me an email. I will be giving away a few autographed swaggish things including an excerpt from book 3.
I should also have some buttons that say 'So many vampires, so little time' because I think that's kind of amusing...and true! Who can keep up?
I have been asked about starting a street team and that should happen in the next few months. If you want to be involved, send me an email! I'm looking more for a social media street team as carrying around a purse full of buttons seems a bit ridiculous.
There will also be an ARC of book 3 up for auction on Brenda Novak's Auction site for Diabetes Research. It's a great cause and if you want to be one of the first to read book 3 when all is said and done. That's a great way to do it!
http://brendanovak.auctionanything.com/
I should also have some buttons that say 'So many vampires, so little time' because I think that's kind of amusing...and true! Who can keep up?
I have been asked about starting a street team and that should happen in the next few months. If you want to be involved, send me an email! I'm looking more for a social media street team as carrying around a purse full of buttons seems a bit ridiculous.
There will also be an ARC of book 3 up for auction on Brenda Novak's Auction site for Diabetes Research. It's a great cause and if you want to be one of the first to read book 3 when all is said and done. That's a great way to do it!
http://brendanovak.auctionanything.com/
March 14, 2012
"Aloha, can I borrow your umbrella...and Dayquil?"
I'm back! I went on vacation with my family to Hawaii where it rained a lot. Every day in fact. And I got a migraine. Then I got a fever and finally I gave it to my kids, my parents and my husband. So everyone had a good time. Lol.
Actually, it was still a nice trip becuase it's Hawaii. My kids played on the beach, I got my Mudslides and french fries so all was right in my little world for the most part. Two days I woke up at 3 and stumbled down to the lobby in my bathrobe and flip-flops to write. Those people behind the desk didn't know WHAT to make of me!
I came home and I feel like the escape was good for me and my 'muse.' I had been having some trouble writing the third book, people have expectations and they are not shy of telling me about them and I have my own expectations and yet...it just wasn't happening. I didn't want to write anything. And this was my revelation-- writing is like dancing to your favorite music when no one is around. I dance differently, I go for it. I sing and I belt it out! Well, when I wrote LID it was the same way, I wrote that honey for me and if I thought it was a little risque with various chair scenes, etc. that was okay. It was my book.
But LID (and then LIF) took off and have done really well which is kind of like finding out my crazy dancing has been recorded and put on Youtube...but people liked it. So they wanted more dancing and even though people liked it I wasn't sure I wanted to dance in public. The books have gotten racier and I have some things I wanted to play around with in the next book which, while not necessarily steamier, they're still a bit 'out there' in my mind. I like the messed-up quality of my books and that's what I want to write and yet I didn't really want to 'own it' for some bizarre reason.
Anyway, I'm over it and I'm writing. I got the third book cut into 19 index cards that are posted next to my desk. The whole plot. I'm stoked. And then I finished a very rough draft. So now I have to dive in and see if there is anything worthwhile in there or if I just have to write it all over again.
The point is that I am back on track! Whoot! I also feel I should mention (I got some questions about it) that I have in fact written Erotica. It's NOT paranormal. It's not even straight. It's Regency and it's gay. I think PNR and UF is particularly accepting of Gay Erotica because we seem to think that all vampires have messed around with the opposite sex at some point, if for no other reason than boredom. Lol. Plus JR Ward will HOPEFULLY be coming out with the Quinn/Blay Novella and let's not forget the awesomeness of Butch and Vishous. Have I mentioned that the alley scene where Vishous says 'I need it from you' to Butch is burned in my brain for hotness?
The book is called Three to Waltz and is under a pen name, Chloe Hanson. That might change, I just don't know. I'll include the link and mention that it's a story about best friends who realize their attraction to each other when a woman from their past comes back to town. It may not be your cup of tea but I thought I would throw it out there and if you do read it and leave a review I will be eternally grateful. A lot of people don't leave reviews for erotica books. Shock. http://www.amazon.com/Three-to-Waltz-ebook/dp/B006T3TQ8Y/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1331772563&sr=8-1
Actually, it was still a nice trip becuase it's Hawaii. My kids played on the beach, I got my Mudslides and french fries so all was right in my little world for the most part. Two days I woke up at 3 and stumbled down to the lobby in my bathrobe and flip-flops to write. Those people behind the desk didn't know WHAT to make of me!
I came home and I feel like the escape was good for me and my 'muse.' I had been having some trouble writing the third book, people have expectations and they are not shy of telling me about them and I have my own expectations and yet...it just wasn't happening. I didn't want to write anything. And this was my revelation-- writing is like dancing to your favorite music when no one is around. I dance differently, I go for it. I sing and I belt it out! Well, when I wrote LID it was the same way, I wrote that honey for me and if I thought it was a little risque with various chair scenes, etc. that was okay. It was my book.
But LID (and then LIF) took off and have done really well which is kind of like finding out my crazy dancing has been recorded and put on Youtube...but people liked it. So they wanted more dancing and even though people liked it I wasn't sure I wanted to dance in public. The books have gotten racier and I have some things I wanted to play around with in the next book which, while not necessarily steamier, they're still a bit 'out there' in my mind. I like the messed-up quality of my books and that's what I want to write and yet I didn't really want to 'own it' for some bizarre reason.
Anyway, I'm over it and I'm writing. I got the third book cut into 19 index cards that are posted next to my desk. The whole plot. I'm stoked. And then I finished a very rough draft. So now I have to dive in and see if there is anything worthwhile in there or if I just have to write it all over again.
The point is that I am back on track! Whoot! I also feel I should mention (I got some questions about it) that I have in fact written Erotica. It's NOT paranormal. It's not even straight. It's Regency and it's gay. I think PNR and UF is particularly accepting of Gay Erotica because we seem to think that all vampires have messed around with the opposite sex at some point, if for no other reason than boredom. Lol. Plus JR Ward will HOPEFULLY be coming out with the Quinn/Blay Novella and let's not forget the awesomeness of Butch and Vishous. Have I mentioned that the alley scene where Vishous says 'I need it from you' to Butch is burned in my brain for hotness?
The book is called Three to Waltz and is under a pen name, Chloe Hanson. That might change, I just don't know. I'll include the link and mention that it's a story about best friends who realize their attraction to each other when a woman from their past comes back to town. It may not be your cup of tea but I thought I would throw it out there and if you do read it and leave a review I will be eternally grateful. A lot of people don't leave reviews for erotica books. Shock. http://www.amazon.com/Three-to-Waltz-ebook/dp/B006T3TQ8Y/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1331772563&sr=8-1
March 2, 2012
What's up with the F&^#&** cliff? And when is book 3?
Don't worry, you are not alone in your irkedness about the non-closure at the end of book 2. In my defense, I am a big fan of cliff-hangers in that usually they are the best part of the whole TV season. As long as a show isn't getting cancelled (Terminator, anyone? Angel?) it's usually really exciting and has the OMG factor. But yeah, the wait blows.
Also, I couldn't find another spot to end it, really. And in storytelling, certain things represent change-- entering a doorway, going over a cliff (ala fugitive and Val) and symbolizes an inability to go back. That is where the next book starts off-- everything is different for every single character. Jack is bound to the girlfriend of his parent's murderess, Lucas has emotions and Val has to deal with her powers and make some actual decisions that will have repercussions. Cer is an unknown quantity and so is Rachel. How sincere are they and what do they really want?
I didn't feel like any of that could have been started and then stopped. So, it was a big cliff-hanger instead. Anyway, I'm working on the third book and I hope it will be out this year but it's hard b/c a lot of the character's have huge emotional arcs and I don't want to do them a disservice.
In the last book, it was really difficult to write the Val/Lucas sex scene because the fool was 1600 years old and expected to be a champ in the sack. It took a lot of work. And, you may not know this, but Lucas has a lot of fans ;) They have expectations for him and are pretty disappointed in him right now. I have to deal with that and it's probably very easy to screw it up. So things are going slow because I want to get it right. So please be patient, I'm 35k into the first draft, it will be at least four- five months from the point that the first draft is done. I'm kind of thinking Christmas and hopefully it will be a bit sooner.
I thought LIF would be out the 1st of December and it squeaked out on the 15th. I don't want to get the dates wrong again which is why I can't give a specific date as to its release.
The other problem is that this might be the last book. It depends if the story can be written in three. If not three, four. With a possibility of a single book spin off for one of the characters.
Have a great weekend!
Also, I couldn't find another spot to end it, really. And in storytelling, certain things represent change-- entering a doorway, going over a cliff (ala fugitive and Val) and symbolizes an inability to go back. That is where the next book starts off-- everything is different for every single character. Jack is bound to the girlfriend of his parent's murderess, Lucas has emotions and Val has to deal with her powers and make some actual decisions that will have repercussions. Cer is an unknown quantity and so is Rachel. How sincere are they and what do they really want?
I didn't feel like any of that could have been started and then stopped. So, it was a big cliff-hanger instead. Anyway, I'm working on the third book and I hope it will be out this year but it's hard b/c a lot of the character's have huge emotional arcs and I don't want to do them a disservice.
In the last book, it was really difficult to write the Val/Lucas sex scene because the fool was 1600 years old and expected to be a champ in the sack. It took a lot of work. And, you may not know this, but Lucas has a lot of fans ;) They have expectations for him and are pretty disappointed in him right now. I have to deal with that and it's probably very easy to screw it up. So things are going slow because I want to get it right. So please be patient, I'm 35k into the first draft, it will be at least four- five months from the point that the first draft is done. I'm kind of thinking Christmas and hopefully it will be a bit sooner.
I thought LIF would be out the 1st of December and it squeaked out on the 15th. I don't want to get the dates wrong again which is why I can't give a specific date as to its release.
The other problem is that this might be the last book. It depends if the story can be written in three. If not three, four. With a possibility of a single book spin off for one of the characters.
Have a great weekend!
February 24, 2012
RT Convention
Well,
It's happening. I am going to RT in April and am super excited. It's in Chicago from the 11-15. If anyone is going to be there, hit me up! They have an ebook signing but I don't think I'll do it. I'm not sure anyone would show up and I really don't want to sit there for two hours while people walk by and steal chocolates from my little bowl while trying to avoid eye contact. Is this a good idea or not?
Re book 3. It's moving. Going to a plotting seminar tomorrow and I am really looking forward to it. The plot is mapped out, it's being written and my goal is to whale on it next week while my kids are in school. I'm going to try to write a 60k first draft, leave it for a week or two and then start all over again fleshing it out.
With any luck I will know if it's one book or two by the end of march.
It's happening. I am going to RT in April and am super excited. It's in Chicago from the 11-15. If anyone is going to be there, hit me up! They have an ebook signing but I don't think I'll do it. I'm not sure anyone would show up and I really don't want to sit there for two hours while people walk by and steal chocolates from my little bowl while trying to avoid eye contact. Is this a good idea or not?
Re book 3. It's moving. Going to a plotting seminar tomorrow and I am really looking forward to it. The plot is mapped out, it's being written and my goal is to whale on it next week while my kids are in school. I'm going to try to write a 60k first draft, leave it for a week or two and then start all over again fleshing it out.
With any luck I will know if it's one book or two by the end of march.
