Shiloh Walker's Blog, page 68
October 10, 2013
How BDSM is done…
KindleI don’t read much of the BDSM out on the market right now. When it comes to my books, my ‘light’ forays into BDSM are just that…light. They play at it, and that’s about it.
I can’t take it deep and I make no attempt to try. I bow to the master -in my opinion, that’s Joey Hill. If you’ve never read Joey, here is your chance.
Natural Law, a book that has an absolutely beautiful relationship with an alpha male who prefers to submit to his woman…yes, you read that right… it’s free now.
Go get it. It’s got material that pushed me outside my comfort zone but it’s still one of my favorites.
October 9, 2013
What I’m loving right now
October 8, 2013
Some signings over the next few weeks… come see me?
October 6, 2013
Blade Song… Free on iBooks through tomorrow only!
KindleIt’s the book of the week and you can get it free on iBooks, but the promotion ends tomorrow.
snippet!
The sword that felt like a part of me sliced through the air.
Everglades.
Groups of them—
Just kids.
Children—
Child. Weak, ignorant child—The crack of a whip slicing through the air. If it kills me, I’ll make you something stronger.
My breathing hitched in my throat.
Hold that weapon steady, Kitasa—useless waste. Oh, dear. You dropped your guard—
I stumbled as her voice rang through my mind and I remembered the sickening, wet crack of my bones breaking. The ghostly ache danced up my arm.
“Shit.”
I stopped in the middle of the floor and brought my hands to my face. My right hand still clutched my sword and I squeezed it, tighter, tighter.
Get out of my head, you evil bitch, I thought, half desperately.
“You know, whatever those demons are that are eating you up…”
I gulped in another breath of air and lowered my hands, ready to tear into him, ready to turn around and bury my blade in him and screw the consequences.
I turned around. Saw him standing three feet away. “Seems to me you managed to leave them far enough behind. If you can pick fights with vampires, crazy cats and entire packs of rats, I’d think you could deal with whatever those demons were, too.”
You can check it out here…
October 5, 2013
New RS series…Secrets & Shadows
KindleSo I’ve been tweeting/FBing about my current project, a new romantic series for St. Martins. Those of who keep emailing and asking…I loved the Ash books, are you doing anything else like it?
Well…kinda sorta. :)
The Secrets & Shadows series is another romantic suspense series, set in a small town. Not quite so fictional, though, although I completely tear up the town. I based in a Madison, Indiana, an area just about an hour or so from my neck of the woods.
There are three novellas that will be released in ebook, and then after that, three books. The novellas, Burn For Me, Break For Me, and Long for Me revolve around the Bell siblings. They’ll start releasing in the spring of next year.
The books are Deeper than Need, Sweeter than Sin and Darker than Desire. The first one will release next summer.
I’ll have covers for the novellas soon and I’ve gotten a look at the first book’s blurb…so more info is forthcoming.
Here’s a look at the first novella.
Burn for Me
Blackness wrapped around them, a sheltering embrace as his body moved over hers.
His hunger had an edge tonight.
He’d come to her late, appearing in the darkened doorway of her room and she’d barely had a chance to catch her breath before he was there, strong hands slowly pulling away the covers and then the mattress gave way under his weight.
Now, as his cock swelled inside her, as one palm cupped her hip and angled her up to meet each driving thrust, he buried his face against her neck as he muttered her name.
She gasped out his and had to bite back the words she knew he wouldn’t want to hear.
Tangling her hands in his hair, she arched and whimpered as heat blistered and pleasure consumed her.
“Tate!”
He surged against her, harder. Faster.
She climaxed around him, muffling her sob against his shoulder.
His mouth covered hers, swallowing down that ragged, breathless sound.
Then he stiffened, coming inside her.
* * * * *
She wanted that purse.
Ali Holmes didn’t covet a lot of things, but as she told stood behind the counter of The Madison Pizza Company, she decided she was going to let herself covet that purse.
It was a safe obsession. Vivid, murder red, butter soft-leather. It cost almost as much as she made in a week—it would have to. It was a Coach purse. She had an eye for those things, mostly because she obsessed over them. Drooled. Coveted.
Sometimes when she went shopping in Louisville or Lexington, she’d even let herself pet them.
But she wouldn’t ever buy one. How in the hell could she buy a purse like that when she could barely afford to put food on the table?
It was a safe enough obsession, because she knew she wouldn’t ever go and waste money she couldn’t afford to waste on something like a purse, not when her two boys needed shoes, not when she needed to figure out how to fix the roof, and not when she was still scrambling to pay the bills over the appendectomy she had to have last winter.
The owner of that gorgeous red purse stood in the doorway, blinking as her eyes adjusted to the dim light after being out in the bright sunny afternoon.
Ali gave herself another second to lust as she gathered up a couple of menus and tried to not to notice the way somebody was grinning at her.
“If you keep staring at the purse, she’s going to think you plan on mugging her.”
Just the sound of that voice was enough to make her heart skip, and maybe it made her knees a little weak, although she managed not to let it show as she turned her head and looked into the dark brown eyes of one Tate Bell, her other obsession.
He wasn’t so safe.
Lately, she was starting to think she might have to give him up.
He was like too much chocolate, too much wine. She wanted to gorge on him, but he was oh, so very bad for her. If she could keep herself to just lusting after him, it wouldn’t be an issue. Lust was nice. Lust was healthy. But she’d let herself get lost in him. Lost herself to him.
Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad, if he could do the same.
But Tate had…commitment issues.
Hell, screw that. Tate had emotional issues.
With a lazy shrug, she said, “Nothing wrong with looking, sugar, right?”
A smile curved his lips.
That smile…damn it, that smile was what started it. That was why she’d given into him in the first place, and all he had to do was flash her that smile at any given time and it made her want to forget herself all over again.
Forget the promises she’d made herself late last night, as she lay in her bed, with the scent of him still on her skin, while her heart split just a little more.
He might share her bed, but he wanted no part of her heart and she knew that.
She knew she needed to pull away from him.
What she didn’t know was if she could.
October 2, 2013
Wanna try my alter-ego? She’s free…
KindleSome cool news… Blade Song is the Book of the Week on iBooks this week! This means… it’s free! If you haven’t tried it, now is the time. For those used to my Shiloh stuff, be aware… this isn’t romance. It’s got a romantic subplot, but it’s not romance.
Kit Colbana—half breed, assassin, thief, jack of all trades—has a new job: track down the missing ward of one of the local alpha shapeshifters. It should be a piece of cake. So why is she so nervous?
It probably has something to do with the insanity that happens when you deal with shifters—especially sexy ones who come bearing promises of easy jobs and easier money. Or maybe it’s all the other missing kids that Kit discovers while working the case, or the way her gut keeps screaming she’s gotten in over her head.
Or maybe it’s because if she fails—she’s dead. If she can stay just one step ahead, she should be okay. Maybe she’ll even live long to collect her fee…
Excerpt
The sword was on my bed and she burned unnaturally bright.
He glanced at her and said, “If you even move toward that thing, I’m going to bend it into knots.”
I curled my lip at him. “Like you could.”
He leaned forward. “Is that a dare, little girl?”
“No. It’s a plainly stated fact. Now…why don’t you do us both a favor and get the fuck out of my bedroom?” I jutted my chin out, rotated my wrist again as the itching and heat flared. The sword flashed brighter. I usually wasn’t this close to her without having her in my hand.
I couldn’t help it, though. Ever since he’d spouted off that little piece about a reckoning, I’d been on eggshells, just waiting for whatever the hell he had in mind. If he thought he could leave another mark on me, I’d bloody him.
He leaped over the bed. I backpedaled and faded into nothingness, going invisible as he came for me.
This was one time where his sense of smell might not help.
The entire room smelled of me.
“Considering how mouthy you are, you’re a damned coward.” A smirk was on his lips as I brushed by him, just barely missing his outstretched hand. He moved back over by the bed and settled on the foot of it, that sly, Cheshire cat grin curling his lips as he reached behind him, closing his hand over the grip of my sword.
My breath hitched in my chest.
Mine—
His eyes flickered my way. No, he couldn’t see me and tracking me by scent was harder. But he heard that. I couldn’t stop the way my heart reacted when he touched my blade. Couldn’t stop it.
“Don’t like seeing me play with your toy, huh?” He lifted her and caught the tip in his other hand. Muscles flexed. “How about if I twist it up a little?”
He couldn’t. Others had tried.
But she was mine—
She flared, bright as the sun, and disappeared. I dropped the invisibility as she settled into my hand. “Keep your damned paws off my blade, cat.”
He was staring rather dumbly into his hands.
A rather queer look settled over his face as he lifted his head to study me. “So that’s how you do it.”
Was there really any point in responding to that? I twirled my wrist, satisfaction settling inside me. Having somebody else touch this blade was like having somebody combing through my underwear drawer or something. Maybe even worse.
“That’s why you’re always popping your wrist or wiggling it when you’re worked up, isn’t it?”
Staring at him, I held her at ready. “Are you going to leave me alone or not? I’ve still got reports to go through and I’m tired.”
“What’s your range on calling it?” He stood up, still eying the sword. “Are there other weapons or is it just that one?”
As he took a step closer, I lifted her. “Please stay away.”
“I thought we had a truce,” he murmured. A smile tugged at his lips.
If I didn’t know what a bastard he was, I might have almost believed the smile. “Doesn’t mean I want you getting close to me.”
He eyed the sword, then me. “You can’t really hold it like that forever. I can just stand here until you lower it. All I want to do is talk, Kit.”
“I can hold it a lot longer than you might think.” Memories of drills danced through my mind. Fanis had broken the bones in my forearm when I was eight because my guard got shaky. When the same thing happened at fourteen with a heavier weapon—a battle-axe—she’d broken my right humerus and my collarbone. I knew how to hold my guard, and despite what he thought, I was stronger than humans.
“So you’re going to stand there and have a pissing contest over nothing rather than an answer to a question?” His smile widened and his gaze dropped, staring at my tits as though the close-fitting tank top wasn’t even there. “Okay. I’ll just enjoy the view.”
Hissing, I lowered the blade and spun away.
Spying a T-shirt thrown over a nearby chair, I grabbed it and stalked over to my bed. Once more, I kept it between us as I put the blade down. “Take it again, and I’ll just call it back,” I said flatly, jerking the T-shirt on over my head.
I didn’t even have time to gasp for a breath.
He was right there.
A hand on my neck held me in place. Swearing, I flexed my wrist. “Go ahead,” he said, his voice gruff. “I’m not…”
I tensed as I felt his hand catch the hem of the shirt I’d pulled on.
“What in the holy hell happened to your back?”
Want it? It’s free on iBooks, this week only. Read more here!
October 1, 2013
Funny spam
KindleI love it when I find funny comments in the spam folder.
This one isn’t as good as the… ‘my brother in law killed my husband…’ one but it’s still good for a laugh.
hello people outside the world my name is Carolyn I want to say that my lover left me in April. During one long month I have contacted many casters and bought almost ten spells without results. My ex wouldn’t contact me, wouldn’t answer my calls and emails. But I never lost hope because I knew we were soul mates. Dr.ancient cast the most wonderful spell for me 2 weeks ago and everything has changed since then. We are close to each other again and he is calling me many times everyday. Thank you
Hmmmm.
That’s almost a book plot there. Obsession…
September 29, 2013
A thought on plagiarism…
KindleI was talking with Mary Elizabeth-one of the two fanfic authors involved in the Stahl mess (read about it here). She made a comment that she wasn’t mad, more disappointed.
I felt the same way when I was plagiarized. I only got mad when she started trying to throw guilt trips at me–she kept trying to find other places to sneak the works up, defending herself to those who would listen and when I told her that if the works weren’t all removed and if they didn’t stay down, I’d seek legal action–she laid a sob story at my feet about her kids and their deadbeat dad.
That is when I got mad.
Before that? I was disappointed, irritated…bizarrely enough, I almost pitied her botched attempts at rewriting my Grimm books. I had Greta & Rip-she changed them to Gretta and Ryp. I had Will, she changed him to Wyll. Ella (as in CINDERELLA…) became CINDY for pete’s sake. And the writing, while the scenes, the stories, the layout, the set-up, the plot, all of it was mine… she couldn’t recreate my story. I’m not trying to be unkind, but the writing, plain and simple, was a botched mess. It was the efforts, in my opinion, of somebody who just can’t write… or create the idea… so she tried to take the short cut and steal somebody else’s.
It’s not the same.
Know how I first started writing?
It was in 3rd or 4th grade. I had read a comic book. I loved it. But the ending? Not so much.
Below is the opening to a speech I gave at the Washington Area Romance Writers Retreat.
I have a confession to make.
One of the first stories I ever wrote…I think I plagiarized. Now, you’ll have to give me a little bit of leeway here, because I was in third or fourth grade. I’d been reading this really amazing comic book—I think it was the Fantastic Four, and it was just so awesome that I thought for sure, I could do something equally awesome.
The problem was, as cool as the story was, it had a lousy ending. I didn’t like it. I don’t remember why. I just know I was going to make it better.
I didn’t make it better, though, and for some reason, it wasn’t as awesome as I thought it would be.
I was writing a story, yeah.
But it wasn’t my story. It’s not the same, when the words aren’t your own. When the story isn’t your own. I don’t think I even finished it. The magic just wasn’t there.
Yep. I started out by trying to recreate somebody else’s words. Like I said, I was in 3rd or 4th grade, and I knew right away it wasn’t working out. It’s been thirty years since that botched up mess of a story and I still remember my disappointment in it.
I don’t even know if I finished it. It just…wasn’t worth it. It wasn’t really worth it until I found out that I had my own stories inside me.
Something some plagiarists will never understand is what it’s like to create those stories, purely on your own.
What’s really sad is when the plagiarist has writing talent and just doesn’t try to develop it, or in some cases, gets lazy or whatever else motivates them to steal words. Janet Dailey was a talented writer, yet she stole from Nora Roberts. It’s been twenty something years, but people still remember. I don’t buy her, because of that. I used to love her voice, but that voice has been…tainted.
If it’s isn’t your own magic, it isn’t just cheating the readers. You’re cheating yourself.
September 28, 2013
Author’s choice…
KindleAnd it’s the final Saturday Snippet with my awesome group of ladies. I’ll probably continue to randomly post them when I remember. It’s an easy way to fill a post, but the blog-hopping thing is coming to a close. Make sure to check out the other ladies participating if you can.
I saw the flicker in his eyes…the flicker of doubt, but I didn’t say anything. I was good at gauging a person’s strength. My life had too often depended on it, and it went deeper than that anyway. It was just part of what I was.
“A lot of independents aren’t that strong.”
“Is your boy?”
My boy. I huffed out a breath and leaned back against the car. “My boy. Damon…I told you, months ago, that Justin and I used to have something. Then we didn’t. That hasn’t changed. So just shelve the…whatever.”
His stony face didn’t change. At all. He jerked a shoulder in a shrug. “It’s not like it’s any of my business, right?”
“No.” Why did it seem like the bite marks on my neck, my wrist, were burning? I resisted, just barely, the urge to reach up and rub the one on my neck. Damon’s eyes all but burned into mine and I think we both knew we weren’t being entirely truthful. I couldn’t get involved with another man…not when I was still hung on him. It just wasn’t in me. And the bastard knew it.
I’ll be waiting…
I glared at him. “Just shelve it, okay?”
“Shelving it.”
He didn’t even move and the air, the space between us had shrunk down to nothing.
From Broken Blade…due out in January.
Other ladies to check out.
Lauren Dane
Caris Roane
Eliza Gayle
Lissa Matthews
McKenna Jeffries
Taige Crenshaw
Delilah Devlin
HelenKay Dimon
September 24, 2013
The crazy that comes with plagiarism scandals
Kindle
I know I’m not the only who has noticed the theme with plagiarism scandals.
I think author Courtney Milan has spoken about this, but I can’t remember where or when and a search didn’t show anything. But the cycle is kinda obvious by now.
First there is denial…
I didn’t do it.
Then there are cries of bullying.
I’m the victim! Why are you so mean!
Then we start hearing from the plagiarist’s fanbase.
Leave her alone! There’s no proof. You’re just jealous/mean/bullies/. You’re being sued for libel/slander/cyberbullying…blah blah blah…
Never mind that truth is kinda the absolute defense against libel and it has to be libel. Remember your Spiderman. Slander is spoken. And how is it bullying to speak up about the truth? FYI, for the record, I am outright against anybody who tells somebody to harm themselves, drop dead, etc. If that’s anybody’s version of speaking up for the truth, find a better way.
But speaking up for the truth isn’t bullying. Notifying the author, notifying e-tailers isn’t bullying.
There are other steps in the cycle.
Books will disappear.
The author often fades away, going silent. Websites die. Sometimes, the ‘writer’ makes excuse. Depression (I’m depressed, I haven’t plagiarized anybody). A husband is leaving, somebody is cheating… it’s always somebody else’s fault. It’s never just the fact that wannabe writer couldn’t come up with their own ideas so they stole somebody else’s.
The only except to this rule was Kay Manning. She openly admitted what she’d done wrong, she confessed, without exception, and she apologized without excuses. It was the first time in the 10 years I’ve been published and more plagiarism scandals than I can recall. Because of that, I’ll remember her name…and if she publishes again, I may give her a second chance.
The latest scandal is about a fricking USA Today best seller, Shey Stahl. Apparently her books did so well, they landed her an agent and a contract with Simon & Schuster. But…it might be/allegedly/blah blah blah… that those books aren’t hers. None of them are for sale anymore and it looks like she is holding true to the pattern.
I didn’t steal them. They are mine. People are being mean to me. They are jealous.
And the chorus of her fans rise high…we’re here. We’ll support you.
It’s predictable.
Already, she’s gone silent. FB page is gone, website is being redone. More ‘similarities’ are cropping up with other fanfic pieces.
In a year or so, will I remember Stahl’s name? Unlikely. If I do, it will just be that she involved in another scandal…she was another wannabe who wanted to write, but couldn’t. Maybe one who could have learned how, if she would have invested the time to learn her voice. Instead, she stole somebody else’s….allegedly.
Here’s the deal.
Plagiarism is wrong.
Check out this (info via Dear Author)
She’s wearing a tight blue shirt and a black pencils skirt. Her high-heels tap on the wood as she descends down the steps. Her hair is an unnatural red color, but it’s seamlessly curled and styled. And when she smiles, I feel Mom almost cringe.
Alice’s mom looks nothing like my mom.
“You must be Renee,” the lady with the deep-red hair says, offering her hand.
Mom flattens her curly hair before shaking Mrs. Cullen’s hand. “Yes, and your name?” Mom asks kindly.
Dusty by YellowBella, Chapter 2: Dry and Dusty
She was wearing jean shorts and a red tank top. Her hair was that same rich color as Ivey’s, the color of the canyons with lighter highlights throughout.
“You must be Kathy,” the lady said, offering her hand.
“Yes, and your name?” Mom asked kindly.
Stahl, Shey (2013-09-20). For the Summer (Kindle Locations 684-686). . Kindle Edition.
The blurb from the cover…sorry, it’s identical. This doesn’t happen by accident. (click on it to see full size)
(Image from DA)
There are numerous passages in the book where lines like this were found, entire scenes blocked out, just like this. And this isn’t the first or only instance.
This is nuts.
What really bugs me is how many fans rush to support her. You poor thing. They are just jealous.
Part of me gets it, in a weird way. They love these stories, they invested time and money and they want more…the problem is what they want is more lies and they can’t see that. So they continue to defend.
It’s…bothersome, though, how they continue to refuse the evidence that is so plainly there.
Plagiarism is a matter of ethics, and can be a criminal matter, and it’s like these people don’t care that they are defending a person who has absolutely no writing ethics, at all. Would they go on the attack if somebody stole one of her stories? Is it a blind defense of her? That fanaticism is…well. Worrisome. To blindly follow/love anybody means you refuse to see their flaws. This is a pretty huge flaw.
One thing that did jump out at me was one of these gems, tossed out by one defending Stahl. As far as I’m concerned, she has no defense, but as a mom, and a writer…I do want to address it.
How can you do this (paraphrasing here… this was a line from her FB page, gone now, but I won’t highlight the user’s name) don’t you realize these books are her babies????
First. BOOKS ARE NOT BABIES.
I carried my babies for 9 months. I lost one child. It devastated me.
I would happily jump in front of a bullet, a speeding train or a madman with a knife for one of my children.
For a book? I’d throw my books in front of that bullet, that train, that madman.
I’ve happily thrown my manuscripts at a wall, abandoned them, starved them. I’d never do that to a child.
A book is a creation that seems to take on its own life. But it’s not a living creature that requires love, nurturing, protection, shelter.
Get it right, people. BOOKS AREN’T BABIES. I think it was Tessa Dare that led a twitter hashtag party one year about all things you do with babies that you don’t do with books…books don’t wear diapers. Books don’t cry…etc, etc.
Books don’t pee on you, poop on you, scream at you, yell at you, cry on you, ask why nobody likes them, ask you when they can drive, ask for an allowance, they won’t grow up and leave you, come back and hug you on the first day of school.
BOOKS AREN’T BABIES.
If I had to choose between writing and my children, my children will win. Every damn time.
Books are important and they are creative works that come from inside and yes, they can rip you apart.
You know what really rips you apart?
When somebody steals those words and tries to claim them for their own. That is why people are up in arms over the Stahl/Dusty/Sarah/Mary Elizabeth mess. Because a lot of us, writers and readers, get that Sarah and Mary Elizabeth invested time and heart into creating a story…and Stahl went and tried to claim it as her own. It isn’t her baby. It’s their story-and she stole it…allegedly.
I know how this feels. I’ve been there. Stahl, and everybody defending her, have absolutely no clue what it’s like.
