B.A. Tortuga's Blog, page 82
March 14, 2013
Super Juicy! (m/m, paranormal, short)
Me.
Julia.
Paranormal boogilies.
Biting.
Smut.
:D
***
It's Halloween and vampire Stryker is on the prowl for a good, fun meal when he meets Buck, a waiter with a t-shirt that reads "Super Juicy". Stry can't wait to find out if there’s truth in advertising, but will the vibrant stud turn out to be too much for Stry to handle?
This story is also available in the Masks Off Too! anthology.
***
Halloween was simply the best time to be a vampire, especially in Las Vegas. Oh, like most Vegas natives, Stry avoided the Strip most of the time. Too much flash, too many cameras. But on Halloween, when there were so many people, so much hot blood running through miles and miles of veins, he wanted to be where the action was.
Following a tight, round male ass, he'd wandered into a club somewhere in the newer casinos, a hipster bar serving overpriced Cosmos and lovely-smelling burgers. What had kept Stry there, however, was one of the waiters.
Spiky blond hair, eyes the color of grass, and a muscled body that didn't quit, the fine little son of a bitch worked the room, smiling and flirting, taking orders and bringing plates. The man had on a pair of skintight jeans, artfully frayed at the pockets, a black apron, and a diamond solitaire in one ear. The best part was the T-shirt with the restaurant logo on the front, and the words "Super Juicy" on the back.
He'd made sure to sit in the beautiful one's section, and now he was just waiting for those pretty eyes to land on him. Trick or treat!
"Good evening, sir. Welcome to Hearts. I'm Buck and I'll be your server this evening."
Oh, yummy. Stry leaned forward, hands under his chin. "Hello, Buck. What cocktail do you recommend?"
"You a whiskey man or a vodka man?"
"Mmm. Vodka." Whiskey burned too much. He could eat and drink, but it did little for him.
"Next question." He got a wink. "Sweet or sour?"
"Oh, I like both. I'm equal opportunity." Edible. This one was fucking edible.
"Then maybe you should try an adult root beer -- vodka, sweet, a little bit of a bite?"
"That sounds lovely." He watched the hot little man nod and scurry off. What, he wondered, would Super Juicy Buck suggest for supper?
Even better, would Buck agree to be dessert?
***
Buy it here: http://www.torquerebooks.com/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=79_93&products_id=3839
March 13, 2013
Guest Blog by Julia Talbot!
Morning, y'all! The best part about having another writer as your partner? Well, really it's being able to talk to the voices in your head without her thinking you're insane, but the other good part is knowing you can nudge them for a guest blog. :D
Here's my girl. Be good to her.
Much love, y'all.
BA
Hey y’all!
I’m hijacking BA Tortuga’s blog today to talk about:
The Bear Facts
I always wanted to name a story that. Seriously.
I was never sure if I should, though, as it seemed too lighthearted for a shifter story.
Then Jeanette, Neale and Zane came along.
Jeanette is a werewolf newly without a pack. She doesn’t need those guys deciding her life for her. Of course, when she gets injured on a lone jog, she wishes she had some help. Along comes snow-bunny and were-kitty Neale, who knows just what to do with such a pretty damsel in distress. Take her to his werebear lover, Zane, who also happens to be a medic.
I had the best time with this book matching personalities to the animals involved. Jeanette is like a wolf, ready to throw down and defend herself. Neale is like a kitty on catnip, chasing everyone’s tail. And Zane is a big, cuddly teddy bear.
Man, I didn’t think I could write werebears, but Zane changed my mind! He’s a simple kind of guy, and ready to sleep all winter, but I love how kind he is.
Jeanette might be my favorite heroine yet. She has spunk, and she’s funny. I love humor in a story, and she gives it!
Here’s a bit of story just to get you going!
***
She turned a hairpin curve in the path and cried out when the earth slid out from under her feet, gravel sliding, sending her slipping down the slope a ways. One of her feet smacked into a rock and turned, rolling hard with a snap that she actually heard a split second before the jolt of pain shot up her leg. “Fuck!”
When she came to a stop, her head pointed downhill, her broken whatever pointed up, and she lay like a turtle on her back, the world slowing from a sickening spin. She sucked in a sobbing breath, telling herself she was not going to cry. Not. She had her phone, she had a bottle of water. The trail wasn’t busy, but it wasn’t deserted, either. Help wasn’t beyond reach.
“Holy shit, are you okay?”
Oh. Unless she was hallucinating the pretty blond guy appearing over the ridge, help was right here.
“No. God, no. I need help.” She nodded, reaching out instinctively.
“I saw you disappear right off the trail.” The man came pelting over, his trail runners slamming on the dirt. “Crap. I think you broke your ankle.” He helped her right herself, her leg screaming the whole time.
“Uh-huh.” She was covered in a cold sweat, just shaking, nausea in her throat.
“Your phone getting any signal? Mine is dead, and I can get you back to my Bronco, but we might want to call 911.”
“I don’t… I’m not interested in hospitals, man.” Doctors didn’t love people like her. Well, half-people, half wolf people like her.
He tilted his head, nose working hard. “Oh, man. I was running hard and so freaked I didn’t notice ’til now… How fast do you heal?”
“Fast enough to only have to take the rest of the week off work.” She tilted her head, sniffing. Oh, not one of her kind, but pretty, and not wholly human himself.
“Well, that’s cool, I guess. I have to lick things a lot more…” His cheeks went red-hot, and he grinned at her. “Didn’t mean that quite like it sounded. Here, grab my neck.”
Jeanette couldn’t help her chuckle, but she did reach up, arms wrapping around his neck. “There’s something to be said for licking.” He lifted her with an ease that belied his relatively short, lean frame, and he was gentle about it, which she appreciated. Her ankle throbbed in time with every step he took. “I can’t believe I was so stupid. I’m so lucky you saw me.”
“Hey, I’m the lucky one. A pretty lady I get to play hero with, and one I don’t have to lie about what I am, to boot? How awesome is that?” His Bronco appeared in her line of sight, and he held her up with one arm while he opened the back.
“Thank you.” She eased her shoe off, sucking in a soft, pained breath. Oh, man. That hurt. Like really.
“No problem. That’s pretty swollen. Let me see if there’s any ice in my cooler.”
“Thanks. I’m sorry. This whole thing sucks.”
“Hey, shit happens.” He rummaged around in the back seat before coming back with ice, his pretty gold eyes full of concern. “I know someone who could look at this for you. He’s medic certified. Does search and rescue.”
“You sure? Does he know… our kind?”
“Oh, yeah. No worries.” He reached for her, then blinked. “I’m Neale, by the way.”
“Jeanette.” She touched his hand, the connection between them sudden, sharp. Electric.
His eyes widened, going dark bronze. “Wow. That was cool.”
“Fucking amazing.”
He cleared his throat. “Well. Medic. Here we go.” He picked her up again and hauled her to the front seat.
***
You can buy it here! http://changelingpress.com/product.ph...
Thanks for stopping by, y’all. Hope you check out the Bear Facts
XXOO
Julia.
March 12, 2013
What I Saw This Weekend
That is all.
*sparkles*
March 10, 2013
Six Sentence Sunday -- Catnip Crazy m/m/f
“I’m not playing with you two.”
Bowie chuckled softly at her, handing Channing some soap. “I promise to be good.”
Oh. Catnip.
Catnip soap.
***
;-)
Much love,
BA
What I Did Last Week
Went to Houston to see the rodeo and Tim McGraw, hence the lateness. :D
In edits/rewrites: The Four Horsemen: Ace and Kitty -- still waiting, but I intend to work on it Wednesday. Next up: Man, I have tons of new ideas. I need someone to finish... Much love, y'all. BA
Reading this Week
Last week I read Yes, Chef by Marcus Samuelsson, and a fabulous anthology of Latina friendships titled, Count on Me, which I loved with a hysterical passion.
I've started Carrion Comfort by Dan Simmons, Here on Earth by Alice Hoffman, and Mind Fucked by Mia Watts. :D
So, biography and women's studies shorts replaced by contemporary lit, horror, and paranormal m/m romance.
Woo!
Much love, y'all!
BA
March 6, 2013
Guest Blog: Elise Hepner
I'm tickled to share my blog today with the amazing Elise Hepner. :D I had the good fortune to meet Elise at Authors After Dark in Philly and, y'all, talk about a dear, charming lady that can make you smile with just a word. Lord have mercy.
She was a perfect fit for a guest blog, I swear. :D
Much love, y'all.
BA
***
Before I started this book I’d heard about world building extensively from all my author friends who kept World Bibles, OneNote files, and any other digital/notebook compendium way of keeping information in one place that you can think of because writing a paranormal series can be tricky. Does that mean I knew what I was getting into? Yeah, that would be a negative.
First thing I did was go to my local bookstore and pick out a copy of Writing the Paranormal Novel by Steven Harper. The second thing I did was fall to my knees with the naive idea that world building would be hard. No, building an entire way of life from inside my head isn’t hard—it’s epic, cue soundtrack music reminiscent of anything ever played in the background of World of Warcraft. I felt like I was waging war with my brain every time I sat down to think about anything. But, oh, how the slim little volume helped me out big time. It covered things that didn’t even cross my mind about the what’s, why’s, and who’s of making a paranormal world completely concrete and in short, it was my special little savoir.
But once I got over the extreme task of tucking in details I began to reap the enjoyment of sticking in one extra known fact that no one would probably ever see in the light of the book, but that I knew existed. Those little details were so much fun! I’m a very structured person, so the fact that I could endlessly add onto my world and create anything blew my mind. But once I let go I asked “why” a lot and it was as if I was following a small trail of breadcrumbs from one thought to the next, which was a certain kind of organization too.
From start to finish writing Furious Lust was an experience I’ll never forget because it pushed me so much mentally and emotionally, but as I’m writing the sequel, Furious Temptation I’m finding even more little tidbits to build my world. The fun surprises never stop. I guess that’s the perk of writing a paranormal series, the world is never shut down, the work never stops and it grows with you. With that much work, this world better be my best friend for life.
***
Blurb:
One mistake can change a life—let alone an eternity.
Tisiphone’s a revenge demon working for Hades in the Underworld torturing damned souls. When she escapes for three days under the sun with a human male, her leash is pulled tight. Tisiphone’s banished from the Underworld to Earth and stripped of her demonic powers. But that’s not what drives her horrendous nightmares.
Cithaeron’s human life was dedicated to revenge, until a demon walked into it. The wickedly intense, sensually destructive Tisiphone takes over his life with probing questions and haunting caresses. It’s over in a blink. After centuries of torture in Limbo, Hades brings him back for a judgment call that could change their intertwined lives—dead or alive.
Their future is in their past. Their lust can burn each other to the ground. But they’ve got to learn to work together or they’ll both go to Hell for good.
***
Excerpt:
He moved me with confidence, our hips rolling from side to side while his breath eased across my neck. His clean cheek lightly brushed mine. Before I’d found any composure goose bumps dotted my arms and I sensed the curve of his lips against my ear. We worked as one to the techno rhythm that replicated the beat of my heart—my pulse plunged into a rather embarrassing quickness.
Through my leather skirt his warmth soaked into my flesh radiating body heat upward through my breasts. My nipples pebbled with sexual awareness, my belly twisting into a labyrinth of knots. His body was tightly pressed against my lower back so there was no question as to whether or not he was enjoying our dance. As his fingers guided the swing of my hips, for once, I’ll admit, I was captivated. While I wasted no time reaching behind me tracing up his arms, shoulders, and chest with my hands.
There was a certain seductive slowness that set him apart from my usual partners. He didn’t lack confidence. Much could be gathered from the way a man danced with a woman and my body wasn’t lying to me. I’d learned to trust my instincts. My partner was special.
His fingers slipped beneath my clingy, vinyl tank top playing along my ribs. When his hands tightened along my naked flesh our flirtation deepened into a more serious encounter. Despite his hold, I couldn’t avoid savoring his warmth. My first touch of cleansing fire, a comfort, and the key to my arousal. My fingers eased through his soft hair tangling in the strands at the nape of his neck. For the briefest of moments, I entertained the fact that he might go further, cupping my breasts and brushing his calloused thumbs across my tingling nipples.
But his hands squeezed tighter along my waist, though we moved as if nothing had changed between us. Would it be wrong to admit I enjoyed this edge? Whatever the game was between us. Even the subtle brush of my stockings against my inner thighs left me wide-eyed and wet between my legs. We were playing with fire.
His possessive, too hard touch promised an outcome I couldn’t fathom. A jolt of fear prickled beneath my skin. Though I faltered in my steps, the stranger only pressed harder against my hips with his chin casually resting on the top of my head. He never missed a beat, while I was shivering in his embrace.
My throat was constricted to a knot while my instincts shot off sparks inside my body. Yet, I was drawn to him. I moaned when his rough, long fingers slipped down beneath the top of my skirt idly following an outline of the waistband across my stomach—and lower. There was no going back now. Beneath the scent of sweat and alcohol that permeated the club, a familiar charred wood-smoke scent lingered on my clothing.
Home.
It was only a moment before I completely understood my situation, with a jolt that sent my mind reeling. My weak-kneed acceptance was replaced with ironclad knowledge of the man at my back. His almost unbearable heat lingered inside me. The scent of the Underworld clung to the strands of hair across my face. His unwavering grip. But perhaps, for a second—if I could take some more time to think—
Unable to fully process, automatically my arms dropped from around his neck and my hands clenched into fists. Realization left me cold and aching. Without knowing who I was facing, without my powers, it would be foolish to spin on him and attack. But my need to vent my rage left me seething. One of the most sexual moments of my existence in recent history had been dashed.
Whoever he was, he was working for them—the Underworld.
He’d stopped dancing against me and his breath against the nape of my neck spun me deeper into a confusing hole. It cannot be so. But when I broke our contact from hips to head glancing down the smooth line of my body—Apollo’s balls, I knew those fingers as if they were my own. Could I bring myself to turn around? To look him in the eye?
“Tisiphone,” he murmured low and cool against the lip of my ear.
I saw his face as if it wasn’t dark in the nightclub—as if my past was yesterday. His low, pleased voice triggered a darkness inside me that I was afraid to acknowledge. His fingers pinched into mine as I tried to pry his hands off me, until I softly cried out. But he let me go, letting me know with his continued presence at my back that he would have kept me there if he wanted to.
There would never be enough space between us—this wasn’t real.
I turned until I’d locked eyes with his pale gray irises—but they weren’t gray anymore—and not because of the harsh dancehall lighting. While I searched inside his shining coal black eyes, I sensed the trace of brimstone magic within him. His tongue casually flicked across his lips. An unreadable expression, even with neon lights spinning and whirling across him.
If he were truly of my old world, his skin would be shiny as an oil slick—black with dappled rainbows beneath the chaotic light play. In the night he’d be purely human in appearance until any ray of light caught his flesh. But there was nothing. Nothing that was recognizable but tan, human flesh like mine.
What have they made him? What have they done? Brimstone. Black eyes. No pulse. But looked human. His heat—the undeniable heat of those from the Underworld because though creatures there have no need to breathe or bleed, the temperature at the Earth’s core isn’t anything to trifle with on a whim. He carried the depth of heat that my kind engineered as a defense mechanism to live in the Underworld.
That was my answer. I couldn’t deny it any longer. I knew—gods, I wished I didn’t. I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy. Not even a man who had unknowingly condemned me to live a life far from my sister’s for hundreds of years.
Demon.
***
Buy Links: Kindle
Barnes&Noble
ARe
Author Links:
Website
Blog
March 5, 2013
Guest Blogging Today at Sean Michael's Livejournal
:D
I love when Sean pokes me to play (there's a contest, too).
http://sean-michael.livejournal.com/
Much love, y'all
BA
March 4, 2013
Guest Blogs Coming!
I have decided to make Tuesdays guest blog day, because the 'net is for playing with each other, right? ;-)
If you have something you'd like to share, drop me a line and I'll schedule you in.
Much love, y'all.
BA
March 3, 2013
Six Sentence Sunday: Hammer and Tongs (m/m, western historical)
That tow head bobbed and Asa made a note to find an old hat to cover the man’s scalp up before that new skin blistered again.
He walked on out past the lean-to, stretching, his head falling back so the sun could fall on his face. Asa willed Loco and Tak to come on, not to lose their courage. He needed what they could give him.
Soon the horses were singing to him, telling him that they were coming, and he smelled them, the spice and heat familiar as breathing.
His warriors.
***
*smooches*
Happy Sunday, beauties!
BA
