Shiloh Walker's Blog, page 89

Another snippet from BEAUTIFUL SCARS…

Just a note… BEAUTIFUL SCARS will come out in print at some point.  Probably in 2014.  That’s how my titles with my digital publishers work…the ebook is first, with print to follow.  :)

Thanks for all the feedback I’ve gotten on this book… it’s been kinda amazing.  This review, in particular, kind blew me away.

Here’s another snippet from the book.

He could hear her singing along with him. He might have asked her to sing louder, but he knew she wouldn’t want to. She never did much care for that. Still, he liked listening to her. He’d play again and have her sing with him when it was just them…then he realized he was thinking about spending more time with her.

A lot more…

The song ended and he made himself stop thinking, giving himself up to the music.

He did “True Believer” next, the song that had gotten him his big break. From there, he didn’t bother asking, he just played. He forgot about the people around him. The only one who mattered was Chaili. From the corner of his eye, he glanced her way and his heart banged against his ribs as he realized she was watching his hands.

Seriously watching his hands. Almost the same way he’d been watching her mouth, he suspected. And there was a glassy little glint in her eyes—

Hunger burned in his gut, a terrible little knot that was taking on a life of its own.

He wanted Chaili. He’d managed to bash sexual hunger into submission over the past few years, letting it out in controlled, very controlled bursts, but this was…fuck.

This was gutting him.

A discordant chord filled the air and it jolted him back to reality. The song was nearly over anyway and he finished, pushed back and held out his hand to Chaili. They were leaving. He didn’t know where they were going—he’d take her home if she insisted, but what he really wanted to do was take her to his place.

Take her there…and then take her, damn it.

Is this smart?

It was the calm, rational little voice in his head, the one he usually ignored.

This is Chaili…a friend. And not just any friend. She matters more than most…right?

Yes.

She did. It was almost enough to make him stop. Almost.

But the hunger inside him was a monster.

Samhain | Amazon | BN | iBookstore

Because I can… starting early! Contest!

He knew her face.

Joss Crawford wasn’t prone to melodrama, he wasn’t prone to wishful thinking and he didn’t much believe in fairy tales or anything about crazy tales of love at first sight.

But he knew there was a woman for him–he’d been searching for her his entire life, had dreamed about her, for always.  He looked for her in every face he saw, waited for the moment he’d find her again.

And here she was, striding down the pavement, her face grim, her eyes dark…the sight of her was a punch, straight to his heart.  She didn’t look like she should, part of his brain insisted.  The rest of him didn’t care.  He knew her, in his gut, in his heart, in his soul.

Standing rigid, barely able to breathe, much less move, he waited for her to look at him, to see him…to know him.  But it didn’t happen.

In fact, she was so busy staring at the pavement and making a concentrated effort to ignore everything around her, she didn’t even seem to notice him.  She went to pass around him and he just couldn’t stop himself–he stepped right into her path so that she crashed straight into his chest.

She plowed into him, that body, all lean limbs and long muscles and golden, sunkissed skin, a nice, solid weight that he figured would fit his body just about perfectly.  She stumbled and he reached up, closed his hands around the upper part of her arms, where the cotton of her shirt kept him from touching bare flesh.

He wanted to touch bare flesh…after all of this time, he figured he just about needed to.  But not now.

Right now, she was staring up at him with dazed, distrustful eyes–wariness flashed through them and he felt her tense.

“You…”  Shit.  He didn’t even know what to say.  A total stranger, and that’s what he’d seem like to her, he knew.  How could he tell her he’d been dreaming of her for always?  Waiting. Searching.  Absently, without realizing it, he stroked his thumb across her arm, and it rubbed across the bare skin just below the sleeve of her shirt.

As bare skin touched bare skin, he felt something…a buzz in his brain.

And more…he felt the echo of it in her brain.  Followed by a blinding rush of knowledge.

Her pupils flared.  She sucked in a breath.  “You…”

BN | BAMM | Indiebound | Amazon | Book Depository

Read more about the book… and you can also read about the contest.

 FYI, make sure you read the disclaimer. You have to check back to claim your prizes.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Get WRECKED…

Wanna win WRECKED?

I’m giving away an ARC over at Dear Author.

There’s also a giveaway at Goodreads.  There will be more giveaways at other places.  :) Probably including one here.

How about a snippet?  :)

Watch out, her brain warned her. You’re starting to think.

Desperately, she closed her eyes and tried to clear her mind. Focus on him. Just him. He feels nice, right?

Oh, yes. He felt better than nice. Better than anything she’d ever felt, really.

But what in the hell is going on? You were going to think things through and now—

Stop it. The calm, rational part of her mind got a little louder. But it just wasn’t enough and before she even realized it, she blurted out, “What in the hell just happened?”

Zach’s lips touched the back of her neck. “Well, I’m no expert, but I think you kissed me,” he said, his voice teasing. “And I’m pretty sure we both enjoyed it. But maybe we should try again.”

read more…

Book Bloggers… want review WRECKED?

Romance in the Highlands is hosting a blog tour for WRECKED… want to review it?

If you’re a book blogger, this is your chance.

I only have a limited number of ARCs and most will be used in giveaways, etc, so if you want to review, this is one of your best chances.

In the nineties, Abigale Applegate and Zach Barnes were the most beloved sitcom child stars in the world. Then they grew up and left Hollywood behind…

Whatever happened to Abigale Applegate?

She’s been wondering the same thing.

With her Hollywood dreams long gone, Abigale now has a nice, neat, uncomplicated life—until the day her perfect fiancé needs to talk. Dumped, a little more than shattered, and totally confused, Abigale turns to Zach, her best friend since forever, to help her pick up the pieces. He does it with a gift—a copy of Wreck This Journal. She can vent her frustrations, and sketch out a new plan. Zach just hopes he’s part of it. Because he’s been in love with Abigale his entire life.

When the journal falls into Zach’s hands, he discovers Abigale wants a new man. And fast. Nothing more than a hot distraction. Zach has a strategy, too. He’s going to be that man. It’s his last chance. Abigale might be out to shake up her life, but Zach’s out to reinvent it. Now, all he has to do is convince Abigale that life can go as planned.

snippet!

“What in the hell just happened?”

Zach’s lips touched the back of her neck. “Well, I’m no expert, but I think you kissed me,” he said, his voice teasing. “And I’m pretty sure we both enjoyed it. But maybe we should try again.”

And then she found herself on her back, staring up into a pair of dark blue eyes that she knew very, very well. They’d always seemed to glint with mischief, or trouble . . . but she’d never realized just how much they glinted with that kind of trouble.

Not until now.

As his mouth came down on hers again, Abby barely had time to catch her breath. Then she was wondering why she’d even bothered. He stole the oxygen right out of her with his kiss.

 

Saturday Snippets….hmmm…

We gotta describe something…

How about confusion, thrown in with a bit of despair?

His spine heated.

His breath hitched without him even realizing it and his heart started to slam against his ribs.

Fuck.

Oh, fuck, no.

She couldn’t be here.

But even as he thought it, he found himself remembering that godawful fear he’d felt coming from.  The way she’d looked at him…You can’t help me.

If any group of people spelled bad news, it was the people that Patrick Whitmore ran with.  But how did she get involved…

Patrick was slowing to a stop near a long, leggy brunette.  She was facing away from them, but at his touch, she turned.

If Joss hadn’t had years, years upon years of schooling his every fucking emotion, he would have lost it.

Just plain and simply lost it.

No.

Just…no.

I’m spoken for.

The soft sigh in her voice as she said, Damn it, why couldn’t you have come into my life a year ago?  Two years ago?  Why now?  I can’t have you now.

read more…

Lissa Matthews

Rhian Cahill

Eliza Gayle

Leah Braemel

Myla Jackson

Caris Roane

Jody Wallace

McKenna Jeffries

Taige Crenshaw

HelenKay Dimon

Delilah Devlin

Lauren Dane

TJ Michaels

Flashback Fridays…Her Wildest Dreams and a winner!

It’s another friends to lovers… kinky style.

Friday Flashbacks are my older books.

What in the fuck happened? he thought, bewildered, his chest heaving as he lay on his back staring up at the ceiling. Allie? He had just fucked Allie. And unless he was even more sleep deprived than he thought, it had been the best damn fuck of his life.

With a savage, “Shit,” he got to his feet, gritting his teeth against the lingering pleasure that had him wanting to sink back inside her body. This was Allie, for God’s sake. Bookish, shy, dull little Alison Ryan. Under his breath, he muttered, “I don’t believe this.”

Clenching his jaw, he knelt and lifted her shuddering, skinny body and put her back on the couch. Faint bruises were appearing on her wrists already and a wave of disgust flooded him. This wasn’t one of his women, who were used to rough sex and enjoyed it.

Allie, for pity’s sake.

He walked away to get a wash cloth to clean her up—her cream and his come drying on his cock as he left the room.

He had to get her home.

If he didn’t, he was pretty damn certain he was going to work his cock back inside her tight sheath and fuck her slowly, to see if it felt as good when he was fully awake as it did when he was half asleep.

But he lingered too long in the bathroom. Trying to get his brain in order, his cock under control, and his thoughts together.

When he came out ten minutes later, she had already gathered her things and slipped out the door. He jerked the door open, and stood there naked as he watched her climb into a cab.

 

Read more…

My Beautiful Scars winner!

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Donna, I need you to email me! Shilohwalker@gmail.com

Night Blade

Howdy Folks…

Night Blade is up on Net Galley…for reviewers, librarians, booksellers.

Here’s the link!

25 signs you are a writer

In response to this…um…I don’t even know what to call it.  But… yeah.  It’s in response to this …whatever this drivel is… his 25 signs of being a writer.

You write.
You write a lot.
You read.
You read a lot.
You write…and you delete.
You write…and probably think you suck.
You read…and think…why didn’t I think of that?
You buy more books than you’ll ever read…because you love books.
You have a pretty extensive vocabulary, because you’re frequently reading those books…and you know what is in those books? WORDS, dude!
You keep a notebook or something handy because you’ve been in that position where you had an awesome idea…and when you didn’t have a piece of paper handy…you lost the idea.
When you were in school, you probably read. A lot.  Maybe you had friends who didn’t. Maybe you did. And hey, that’s okay.
Maybe you have friends who read a lot now…maybe you don’t. And that’s cool, too.
You know that the idea of staying at home in your pajamas and watching Revenge might sound cool, but you also know that doesn’t get stories told. Writing a lot gets stories told.
You just might have a stationery obsession.  It’s okay.  A lot of writers do.  But that doesn’t mean we all do.
You might not be all that concerned or impressed with the idea of somebody majoring in English or Poetry.  We can all think of plenty of writers who didn’t major in those fields and went on to do just fine.
You hear the words I’m on a deadline…um, do we really go around saying this to ourselves?  I think we just look at the calendar and think, crap…February 1 is almost here.  The book is due!
You think, like any of your friends who’ve gotten tattoos, that you want to get one…so you find one that’s meaningful to you. If you’re a writer and it’s words…or quills…(yes, that is mine), then it makes sense to get a literary type tattoo. If you’re a comic geek?  Comics!  Star Wars geek? Yoda! Vader!  Makes sense!

image from Tattoo Charlie’s facebook.

 
You write.
You write a lot.
You read.
You read a lot.
You write…and you delete.
You write…and probably think you suck.
You buy more books than you’ll ever read…because you love books.
I’m on a deadline…crap…February 1 is almost here.  The book is due!

Mostly tongue in cheek, but not entirely because the overly, I am impressed with myself, my vocabulary, etc, etc…list just seemed to scream for another list.

So there’s mine. I could sum it one better, though.

You write. A lot.

Because really, if you’re a writer, you know that being a writer boils down to one thing.

Writing.

Cool! Hunting the Hunter… in ebook!

So far, it’s only showing on Kindle, but they are the quickest, generally, so that means other  places will have it.

If you’ve been wanting to read the Hunter books but are an ebook only reader, this one is now out there in ebook.  Yay!

You can buy it here…  If ya want!

Amazon

I’ll watch for it to go up at other places…hopefully. Deadline brain. I have deadline brain.

Beautiful Scars… now out…cover evolution!

One more chance to enter… and that’s now.

So… ever wonder what goes into a cover? Covers are hit and miss with a lot of people…from the authors to the readers, and probably even many of the publishers.

I’ve spent hours going on stock photo sites trying to find the perfect image before…perfect meaning…it fits what I have in mind.

Perfect doesn’t exist.  We have to work with sometimes very bizarre images… like this one.  Really.  Go look at it.  I found that one when I was trying to find an edgy one for a romantic suspense type of thing.  All links are work-safe, btw.

Other weird ones that came up during a ‘dangerous passion’ search…this one was really weird.  There’s always gotta be a girl with food.  Always. For some reason.  But what’s dangerous about that?

The danger here? Um…scorching case of herpes???  I don’t get it. But yep, these are things that come up just with random keyword searches… Danger.  Passion. Couple.  I’ve gotten better with my searches and you can narrow things down and make sure you don’t get cartoons, like oh…say THIS one…  but you can still find things like these characters.  Unless there’s a way to filter out the weird stuff, you know a serious images only please… option.

But that leaves you with stuff like this…say you’re looking for

Embrace…

You get this… this…this…and also ones like this.  Now that last one is a good one, except… it gets used.  A lot.  I’ve seen that couple on no less than eight books.  Probably more.  And they’ve got more poses up, it looks like.

Passionate embrace has 1300+ results on dreamstime.  I can narrow down if I want to focus on a specific color (overall…say I wanted a darker image versus a lighter image), I can narrow it down by the model’s race, age, etc

Don’t even look for sensual woman, either.  You’ll get this…this…this…and there’s 5ooo+ more!  Just on dreamstime.  You’ve also got bigstockphoto, istockphoto, etc.  I think the cover artists tend to use other sites, because they’ve got better quality and more professional images, but that gives you an idea.

You can spend hours looking at images, but there’s no guarantee you’ll find the right image.

Sometimes, you have to find close enough.

We went through several different versions of the Beautiful Scars cover…and I do mean several.

The first one?

This…

It’s okay.  It’s pretty.  I liked the piano.  But it’s all wrong.  Chaili isn’t sweet or gentle and the book, while it’s definitely got it’s soulful moments, it’s hot and kinky.  The cover gives the impression of something sweet and soft…the book has BDSM elements, it has kinky sex and and a couple of people who are desperate for each other.

So I told the editor I needed something else.

I sent her a few images, and the images needed to be specific… for specific reasons that I’m not going into detail about.

In the end, we went with this one…(this is the first version, with the comp file, since we weren’t certain it would work.)

Still not right… I didn’t like the panties on the piano.  But…we were finally closer… you can still the original photo in the link above, by the way.

This, as you’ve seen, is the final cover.

 

So… there you have it.  Evolution of a cover.

EXCERPT!

“You wanted to kiss me stupid, baby girl. Have at it.”

Cupping his face in her hands, she eased up onto her toes, angling her head just a little as she pressed her mouth to his. Hmmm. The way he tasted. He was…yeah. Just amazing. Just like his voice. Whiskey-soaked addiction. Flicking her tongue against his lips, she groaned as he opened for her. Leaning in closer, she nibbled on his lower lip, nipped the upper one and then pushed inside.

He shuddered against her, but remained unmoving, impassive.

If it wasn’t for the way she could feel his chest rising and falling against her, so ragged and harsh, she might think he was unaffected. If it wasn’t for the way his body felt rigid, heavy with tension and need, she might think he wasn’t as aroused as she was.

One drugged kiss after another—now the need pulsed inside her, a vicious ache.

When she pulled away, she paused and rubbed her cheek against his, smiling at the way his unshaven skin rasped against the softness of her own. Shooting a quick look at his eyes, she shivered a little when she saw that he was watching her, his gaze so focused, so intense.

She pressed a kiss to his chin, down his neck. Along the sleek muscled lines of his chest. “You know, for a piano player, you sure are cut,” she teased. “What do you do, lift the pianos or something?”

“I chase after smart-mouthed web designers,” he muttered, swatting her on the ass.

“I don’t think that would make you look quite like this,” she said, sighing as she smoothed her hands over his chest. The silver hoop in his nipple was gone, replaced by a barbell. Tugging on it, she watched as a fine tremor racked his body. “I like this.”

 

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