Hi, You Gotta Read Reviews readers. And thanks very much for letting me guest blog today! My name is H.G. Martin. I’m not a romance novelist, more of a science fiction/fantasy/horror/comic book type, but I do enjoy sneaking an element of romance and romantic tension into each of my novels. In fact, you could say that my second novel, the one about the Scorpion, is, at heart, a time-displaced romance. I appreciate any kind of storytelling that entertains, elicits strong emotions and allows the reader to forget about their problems for awhile. I currently have two published novels, Doctor Diablo and The Legacy of the Silver Scorpion, and another one coming out the first quarter of 2011 from Mundania Press.
Not knowing very much about romance novels, I decided to research them a little bit and I came up with some factoids that I hope you will find interesting. First of all, did you know that in many Western European countries, the word for novel is “roman,” meaning romance? I knew this one from all the years of high school and college French I took. The reason for that is because the first word used to describe the long form narrative—that we in the U.S. call a novel—was “romance.” The word “romance” originally referred to any language that was derived from the Roman language—Latin—such as French, Italian, Spanish, Portuguese, etc. The term “novel” didn’t come into use until about the 16th Century, and originally meant a work that was, compared to a romance, much shorter.
So, at one time, every work of long fiction was a romance.
One of the earliest romance novels, published in 1740, was Pamela, or Virtue Rewarded, by Samuel Richardson, the first popular novel to be based on a courtship, from the perspective of the heroine. This book also had the distinction of being one of the first best-sellers.
Depending on how you define the term “modern romance novel,” it could be said that this genre was born in 1972, with the novel, The Flame and the Flower, which was the first romance novel to “follow the principals into the bedroom.”
So there you go. Romance novels have a grand tradition. And they make some writers a whole lot of money, which I appreciate.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
the Parable of the Three Flusher by Ed Williams
Some time ago, in a Southern city close by for some and yet far away for others, there lived a friend. Let’s say for our purposes today that his name was Bob. And Bob enjoyed a most marvelous and magical adventure, one that we’ll recount fully for y’all now and in writing forsooth.
Bob worked for a large area employer, and as such was the custom that he had to travel in order to perform his work. On most of his travels he was unfortunate enough to be alone and chagrined, as Bob didn’t like to be alone, really, who amongst us does? Most of all, he wished to travel with the apple of his loins, the beautiful, sensual, and lovely Esmeralda.
Bob had known the fair Esmeralda for years, she of the Accounting function and he of the Auditing branch, and they had peacefully coexisted professionally. Although Esmeralda was herself unaware, Bob had noticed her for years. He loved looking upon her, at her flowing black hair, her voluptuous curvature, and at her legs that Bob felt could, “Wrap themselves around a big-assed oak tree and squeeze the sap right out of it.” To say Bob desired more from Esmeralda than professional kinship was obvious, very obvious to Bob but not so much to Esmeralda, as Bob discreetly disguised the tentage which occurred in his pants whence-ever Esmeralda happened by him. This happened to take place many times a day, the practical effect being that some days the underside of Bob’s desk sounded as if Thumper the Mythical Rabbit was of residence underneath.
Bob long desired to make Esmeralda his own, but there was but one problem – she was pledged to another. For Bob this was problematical, but he came to find that the desire in his britches was much more compelling than the common sense dictates of his mind. This being the case, he began formulating fervent plans on how to seduce the fair Esmeralda.
Soon, an opportunity presented for a business trip off to the faraway land of Toledo, Ohio. Some schooling was being presented there regarding innovative auditing learnings and practices. Bob knew that he would be required to attend, but was both shocked and pleased when he learned that the fair Esmeralda would be required to attend as well. When he heard and digested this information, his mind sprung forth from it a plan, a plan that he felt would finally make the fair Esmeralda his very own…..
The trip to Ohio soon commenced, and the very first day found Bob and Esmeralda huddled together sharing one computer amongst themselves. This they had to do the entire day, on up until the class conclusion at six. And right before said six Bob began his plan of conquest, his plan to ultimately sequester Esmeralda’s drawers for his very own. It started when he asked her,
“Wanna go to dinner?”
Esmeralda gratefully accepted, as she was worn and frazzled from the long day’s training activities and was hopeful of Bob’s grabbage of the dinner tab. Getting her jacket, she and Bob hustled out from the conference center onto the sidewalk. As soon as they made their way to the curb, Bob signaled for a cab. One quickly arrived, whence then he and the fair Esmeralda stepped inside. Bob asked the driver to take them to a very well-known area Mexican restaurant. Esmeralda smiled just as soon as he did, then exclaimed, “Bob, how did you know that Mexican food is my favorite?” Bob knowingly smiled and replied, “Esmeralda, I listen to everything you say, have for years.” With that, she leaned over and kissed Bob’s cheek. Bob smiled, flushed, and crossed his legs so that his rapidly developing woodie wouldn’t tent up his draws. And with that, they both made their way over to Pancho’s Taco Barn.
It didn’t take but around ten or so minutes to make the trip to Pancho’s. When they arrived, both Bob and Esmeralda quickly learned why it enjoyed the popularity it did - it was very festively decorated and had a huge bar area, so huge that six bartenders plied their trades there! They were seated quickly, and Bob then remembered a comment Esmeralda had made months ago at a staff meeting regarding her love of margaritas. Soon Bob had ordered them a huge frozen pitcher full, and they began enjoying them immediately. When they got to the point of ordering their dinners, Bob asked for the “All You Can Eat Neutron Taco” special, as he knew that if he kept plenty of food in his stomach that it would diminish the effects of the alcohol he was consuming.
As time passed and more margaritas were poured, Bob’s plan began to pay off.
Esmeralda kept drinking and getting progressively drunker, as she did, Bob became aggressively bolder. He did, however, make sure to keep eating plenty of Neutron Tacos all the while to insure that he’d have the clarity of mind to enjoy what he hoped would come later. And come it did, at around ten o’clock or so. By then, Esmeralda had consumed six large margaritas and was kissing Bob like a Viagra-addicted rabbit. Bob had managed to sip down only three, and had eaten eight Neutron Tacos as extra precaution so that his stomach lining was fully coated. Bob well expected, as he helped Esmeralda into the cab afterwards, that his plan was about to pay off. In fact, he knew it was about to pay off as on the ride right back to their motel Esmeralda starting calling his pink trouser monkey “Herbert” and advised Bob that she was going to make “Herbert” march like “a good soldier” just as soon as they got back to their room.
When Bob and Esmeralda arrived back to their motel they quickly hustled up to her room, closed the door, and there then commenced the wildest, hottest sex that either had ever known. Even more liquor was consumed, mouths and hands were exploring places they never had before, and Bob even yodeled out loud like Tarzan a coupla times. Bagging Esmeralda was even sweeter in true reality than he’d ever imagined it, and he silently thanked the demon of all horniness for his amazing good fortune.
More hours passed…..finally, after both had groped, fondled, licked, thrusted, and moaned their way to heaven and back several times, they snuggled in together and fell fast asleep. For Bob, this was as close to heaven as he’d ever imagined - he’d just enjoyed Esmeralda, the woman of his dreams, and now they were snuggled tightly together and fast asleep at around 2 am or so……
….and it lasted until about 3:30 am or so. Suddenly, the combined effects of eight Neutron Tacos and several shots of hard liquor fused together in Bob’s stomach and quickly produced a Nagasaki-type effect, one so profound that he awoke from a sound sleep with wide-open eyes and suffering from the mother of all pains! Pains so severe that he realized if he weren’t planted upon the top of his room’s toilet in about thirty seconds that he was going to poop wherever he happened to find himself! And nothing would more profane the erotic, sinful beauty of what had just occurred between himself and the lovely Esmeralda than to find that he had just taken a dookie all over the bed and even potentially all over her!
Bob as quickly and softly as possible extracted himself from Esmeralda’s embrace and tip-toed fastly into the bathroom. Unfortunately, as is the case with most motel rooms, only one thin wall separated the bed and the toilet itself. Bob was confident that he could mask the impending sounds through the running of the vent fan, a confidence that was shattered just as soon as he flipped the “on” switch and found that his vent fan wouldn’t cut on – at all! Fear gripped Bob as he realized that not only would there be no way to mask the sound of his impending ass eruptions, he also realized the fact that the stench would soon escape and be wafting right up into the peacefully sleeping nostrils of his beloved Esmeralda! With his gut grumbling more intensely and the impending ass Nagasaki eminent, Bob quickly grabbed a towel and shoved it into the crack underneath the door. At least that would keep the stench from wafting out into the room for a few moments. No time for Bob to think anymore about that, however, because Mother Nature then sent him a final warning pain, which gave him just enough time to jump upon his toilet seat and………….
“FRRRRRRAAAAAPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP!” His first anal salvo was loud and rank, and was following by a couple of loud bass-toned fizzlers to boot! Bob’s ass was sputterin’ like a flesh-colored Mt. Vesuvius, and the bad thing was that it wouldn’t stop pootin’! Bob quickly flushed the toilet, as at least this would clear out some of the stench, but no sooner had he done this than his ass frapped loudly again a coupla times, which made the stench in the bathroom even more putrid and rank! Bob was near tears as he tried to fan the air with his hands, which really accomplished little as he could not stand up as the upheaval in his bowels wouldn’t allow it. He was doomed to his confinement atop the porcelain prison, and resignedly sat there as he let out another ten to twelve loud, rasping farts. A second flush cleared out the results of these noxious efforts, and then, after some considerable clean-up activities, a third flush rang out and officially signaled the end of one of the worst ass symphonies Bob had ever been responsible for.
After a few moments Bob stood up and felt the embarrassment ripple all over him, hoping beyond hope that Esmeralda had not heard the horrible ass tuba concerto that he’d just produced. He then waited silently for the longest time, making sure that all the stench had dissipated and that it was safe for him to return to the bed that he and the fair Esmeralda were sharing. Finally, he quietly opened the door and slowly tip-toed across the room, making sure that he wasn’t making any sounds that might wake her up. He got to their bed and slowly pealed the covers back and slipped inside, grateful that he was able to do this and ever so hopeful that Esmeralda was asleep. After laying there very quietly for a few moments, he reached over to touch the lady of his dreams - alas, he could not find her! And, as he realized this to be the case, he heard a voice from over in the corner of their room, from the place where the blue leather easy chair reposed, which said, “Gee Bob, would you answer the phone? Some ass has been calling us for the past hour or so!”
Bob spent another hour letting his shame and sense of loss wash over him. And, as exhaustion finally cradled his soul and led him towards the Land of Nod, he realized that one can ass around, be a shit, and maybe get away with it, but if one asses around, takes a shit, and does so loudly one never can….
Bob worked for a large area employer, and as such was the custom that he had to travel in order to perform his work. On most of his travels he was unfortunate enough to be alone and chagrined, as Bob didn’t like to be alone, really, who amongst us does? Most of all, he wished to travel with the apple of his loins, the beautiful, sensual, and lovely Esmeralda.
Bob had known the fair Esmeralda for years, she of the Accounting function and he of the Auditing branch, and they had peacefully coexisted professionally. Although Esmeralda was herself unaware, Bob had noticed her for years. He loved looking upon her, at her flowing black hair, her voluptuous curvature, and at her legs that Bob felt could, “Wrap themselves around a big-assed oak tree and squeeze the sap right out of it.” To say Bob desired more from Esmeralda than professional kinship was obvious, very obvious to Bob but not so much to Esmeralda, as Bob discreetly disguised the tentage which occurred in his pants whence-ever Esmeralda happened by him. This happened to take place many times a day, the practical effect being that some days the underside of Bob’s desk sounded as if Thumper the Mythical Rabbit was of residence underneath.
Bob long desired to make Esmeralda his own, but there was but one problem – she was pledged to another. For Bob this was problematical, but he came to find that the desire in his britches was much more compelling than the common sense dictates of his mind. This being the case, he began formulating fervent plans on how to seduce the fair Esmeralda.
Soon, an opportunity presented for a business trip off to the faraway land of Toledo, Ohio. Some schooling was being presented there regarding innovative auditing learnings and practices. Bob knew that he would be required to attend, but was both shocked and pleased when he learned that the fair Esmeralda would be required to attend as well. When he heard and digested this information, his mind sprung forth from it a plan, a plan that he felt would finally make the fair Esmeralda his very own…..
The trip to Ohio soon commenced, and the very first day found Bob and Esmeralda huddled together sharing one computer amongst themselves. This they had to do the entire day, on up until the class conclusion at six. And right before said six Bob began his plan of conquest, his plan to ultimately sequester Esmeralda’s drawers for his very own. It started when he asked her,
“Wanna go to dinner?”
Esmeralda gratefully accepted, as she was worn and frazzled from the long day’s training activities and was hopeful of Bob’s grabbage of the dinner tab. Getting her jacket, she and Bob hustled out from the conference center onto the sidewalk. As soon as they made their way to the curb, Bob signaled for a cab. One quickly arrived, whence then he and the fair Esmeralda stepped inside. Bob asked the driver to take them to a very well-known area Mexican restaurant. Esmeralda smiled just as soon as he did, then exclaimed, “Bob, how did you know that Mexican food is my favorite?” Bob knowingly smiled and replied, “Esmeralda, I listen to everything you say, have for years.” With that, she leaned over and kissed Bob’s cheek. Bob smiled, flushed, and crossed his legs so that his rapidly developing woodie wouldn’t tent up his draws. And with that, they both made their way over to Pancho’s Taco Barn.
It didn’t take but around ten or so minutes to make the trip to Pancho’s. When they arrived, both Bob and Esmeralda quickly learned why it enjoyed the popularity it did - it was very festively decorated and had a huge bar area, so huge that six bartenders plied their trades there! They were seated quickly, and Bob then remembered a comment Esmeralda had made months ago at a staff meeting regarding her love of margaritas. Soon Bob had ordered them a huge frozen pitcher full, and they began enjoying them immediately. When they got to the point of ordering their dinners, Bob asked for the “All You Can Eat Neutron Taco” special, as he knew that if he kept plenty of food in his stomach that it would diminish the effects of the alcohol he was consuming.
As time passed and more margaritas were poured, Bob’s plan began to pay off.
Esmeralda kept drinking and getting progressively drunker, as she did, Bob became aggressively bolder. He did, however, make sure to keep eating plenty of Neutron Tacos all the while to insure that he’d have the clarity of mind to enjoy what he hoped would come later. And come it did, at around ten o’clock or so. By then, Esmeralda had consumed six large margaritas and was kissing Bob like a Viagra-addicted rabbit. Bob had managed to sip down only three, and had eaten eight Neutron Tacos as extra precaution so that his stomach lining was fully coated. Bob well expected, as he helped Esmeralda into the cab afterwards, that his plan was about to pay off. In fact, he knew it was about to pay off as on the ride right back to their motel Esmeralda starting calling his pink trouser monkey “Herbert” and advised Bob that she was going to make “Herbert” march like “a good soldier” just as soon as they got back to their room.
When Bob and Esmeralda arrived back to their motel they quickly hustled up to her room, closed the door, and there then commenced the wildest, hottest sex that either had ever known. Even more liquor was consumed, mouths and hands were exploring places they never had before, and Bob even yodeled out loud like Tarzan a coupla times. Bagging Esmeralda was even sweeter in true reality than he’d ever imagined it, and he silently thanked the demon of all horniness for his amazing good fortune.
More hours passed…..finally, after both had groped, fondled, licked, thrusted, and moaned their way to heaven and back several times, they snuggled in together and fell fast asleep. For Bob, this was as close to heaven as he’d ever imagined - he’d just enjoyed Esmeralda, the woman of his dreams, and now they were snuggled tightly together and fast asleep at around 2 am or so……
….and it lasted until about 3:30 am or so. Suddenly, the combined effects of eight Neutron Tacos and several shots of hard liquor fused together in Bob’s stomach and quickly produced a Nagasaki-type effect, one so profound that he awoke from a sound sleep with wide-open eyes and suffering from the mother of all pains! Pains so severe that he realized if he weren’t planted upon the top of his room’s toilet in about thirty seconds that he was going to poop wherever he happened to find himself! And nothing would more profane the erotic, sinful beauty of what had just occurred between himself and the lovely Esmeralda than to find that he had just taken a dookie all over the bed and even potentially all over her!
Bob as quickly and softly as possible extracted himself from Esmeralda’s embrace and tip-toed fastly into the bathroom. Unfortunately, as is the case with most motel rooms, only one thin wall separated the bed and the toilet itself. Bob was confident that he could mask the impending sounds through the running of the vent fan, a confidence that was shattered just as soon as he flipped the “on” switch and found that his vent fan wouldn’t cut on – at all! Fear gripped Bob as he realized that not only would there be no way to mask the sound of his impending ass eruptions, he also realized the fact that the stench would soon escape and be wafting right up into the peacefully sleeping nostrils of his beloved Esmeralda! With his gut grumbling more intensely and the impending ass Nagasaki eminent, Bob quickly grabbed a towel and shoved it into the crack underneath the door. At least that would keep the stench from wafting out into the room for a few moments. No time for Bob to think anymore about that, however, because Mother Nature then sent him a final warning pain, which gave him just enough time to jump upon his toilet seat and………….
“FRRRRRRAAAAAPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP!” His first anal salvo was loud and rank, and was following by a couple of loud bass-toned fizzlers to boot! Bob’s ass was sputterin’ like a flesh-colored Mt. Vesuvius, and the bad thing was that it wouldn’t stop pootin’! Bob quickly flushed the toilet, as at least this would clear out some of the stench, but no sooner had he done this than his ass frapped loudly again a coupla times, which made the stench in the bathroom even more putrid and rank! Bob was near tears as he tried to fan the air with his hands, which really accomplished little as he could not stand up as the upheaval in his bowels wouldn’t allow it. He was doomed to his confinement atop the porcelain prison, and resignedly sat there as he let out another ten to twelve loud, rasping farts. A second flush cleared out the results of these noxious efforts, and then, after some considerable clean-up activities, a third flush rang out and officially signaled the end of one of the worst ass symphonies Bob had ever been responsible for.
After a few moments Bob stood up and felt the embarrassment ripple all over him, hoping beyond hope that Esmeralda had not heard the horrible ass tuba concerto that he’d just produced. He then waited silently for the longest time, making sure that all the stench had dissipated and that it was safe for him to return to the bed that he and the fair Esmeralda were sharing. Finally, he quietly opened the door and slowly tip-toed across the room, making sure that he wasn’t making any sounds that might wake her up. He got to their bed and slowly pealed the covers back and slipped inside, grateful that he was able to do this and ever so hopeful that Esmeralda was asleep. After laying there very quietly for a few moments, he reached over to touch the lady of his dreams - alas, he could not find her! And, as he realized this to be the case, he heard a voice from over in the corner of their room, from the place where the blue leather easy chair reposed, which said, “Gee Bob, would you answer the phone? Some ass has been calling us for the past hour or so!”
Bob spent another hour letting his shame and sense of loss wash over him. And, as exhaustion finally cradled his soul and led him towards the Land of Nod, he realized that one can ass around, be a shit, and maybe get away with it, but if one asses around, takes a shit, and does so loudly one never can….
Monday, November 2, 2009
Celebrating Release Day
Delilah : Hi everyone! I’m Delilah K. Stephans. I’m here with my buddy Antonia Tiranth, Jett Houston and Amara Carnesir. We’re hoping that you will join us as we celebrate the release of Jett and Amara’s book. I’m going to let Antonia say hi.
Antonia : Hey guys! I'm really excited about this release for a few reasons. First, its my third published work and that never gets dull. ^.^ Second, its the continuation of a tale that I am very much enjoying being the teller of. And finally, because its the first published work from both Del and I. Its not the first thing we've written together by any means and Del has been with me the whole time with the Rikashi series, helping me when I'm stuck and editing among other things. Okay, enough about me. I should introduce you to our stars, Jett and Amara!
Jett: Guess I’m up next. Well, Tir – that’s what Delilah calls Antonia – started chronicling the Rikashi stories. No one has quite figured out how she’s doing it, but that’s not the point. So when it came time for Black Velvet. I thought since those two were writing buddies that Del should get in on the fun…
Amara: Oh be honest, you just wanted to be difficult. And Antonia is too polite to type your foul mouth.
Jett: I am so paddling your ass when we get home Princess.
Amara: I might just enjoy it.
Delilah: Ok you two behave! Sheesh.
Jett: So, where was I? So, I wouldn’t talk to Tir. Drove her nuts!
Antonia : Nuts doesn't begin to cover it. More like hair pulling frustration.
Jett: Anyway, they go ways back writing and finished our story.
Amara: Wow! You didn’t cuss once, I’m impressed. I’m Amara. think Antonia was a little surprised when I ended up being in the middle of the third tale. I wasn't exactly very talkative in The Gathering ...I'll blame that one on Daddy...but I'm sure you'll find our story interesting. You'll learn more about the prophecy and some of the changes happening in our society. Things definitely heat up *looks at Jett* on several levels.
Antonia: You can say that again. So, I hope you guys take a look at Black Velvet. If you're new to the series, you should take a look at the first two. Now, what are we doing to celebrate? I'll let Del tell you about that.
Delilah: Ok so while we’re here we’ll be answering any and all questions. For one lucky commenter we have downloads of the two songs that fit the book – Tal Bachman’s “She’s so High” and Alannah Myles’ “Black Velvet”. For a few others we’ve got a stockpile of goodies we’ll be giving out – buttons, cover flats, bookmarks, and other goodies. So feel free to ask questions or just say hi!
Antonia : The songs will be provided via a gift download from iTunes (just figured out how to do that!) Del and I love hearing from readers and invite you to visit our websites, Delilah's and mine. You can also find us on Twitter and Facebook. And now for a look at the cover, Amara...stop drooling.
And the blurb : I scanned the tables and counter, my eyes settling on him. There he was. Dark cowboy hat, dark coat, dark hair, and too handsome for his own good. He was sitting in one of the back booths, blending with the shadows.
I walked to his table, seating myself across from him. He looked over his menu at me and smirked.
“Just can’t stay away from me, can you, Princess?”
The nickname made me bristle, but I took a deep breath. I had to keep my focus on the mission. “So it seems.”
“Interesting,” he murmured, turning his eyes back to the menu, his face hidden beneath the brim of the hat.
Now what? What exactly should I say to him?
“We need you,” I blurted. Might as well get right to the point, rather than beat around the bush.
He laid the menu on the table. His dark eyes skimmed over my hair, my lips and down to my breasts, before returning to meet mine. My breath caught in my throat. There was such intensity in those eyes.
“We,” he echoed, then his voice dropped to a gravelly tone that made me want to squirm in my seat, “…or you?”
Now exactly what was that supposed to mean? I was one of the Aikanaro, if all of us needed him, didn’t that mean by extension each of us needed him? “I need you to come --”
“Ladies first.” He tapped the brim of his hat with a finger and winked.
I blinked at him, not understanding what he meant by that. Then slowly his meaning hit me and heat crept into my cheeks. “That’s not what I meant,” I snapped. “If you would just let me finish.”
You can get your copy of the book from Lyrical Press, Inc.
Antonia : Hey guys! I'm really excited about this release for a few reasons. First, its my third published work and that never gets dull. ^.^ Second, its the continuation of a tale that I am very much enjoying being the teller of. And finally, because its the first published work from both Del and I. Its not the first thing we've written together by any means and Del has been with me the whole time with the Rikashi series, helping me when I'm stuck and editing among other things. Okay, enough about me. I should introduce you to our stars, Jett and Amara!
Jett: Guess I’m up next. Well, Tir – that’s what Delilah calls Antonia – started chronicling the Rikashi stories. No one has quite figured out how she’s doing it, but that’s not the point. So when it came time for Black Velvet. I thought since those two were writing buddies that Del should get in on the fun…
Amara: Oh be honest, you just wanted to be difficult. And Antonia is too polite to type your foul mouth.
Jett: I am so paddling your ass when we get home Princess.
Amara: I might just enjoy it.
Delilah: Ok you two behave! Sheesh.
Jett: So, where was I? So, I wouldn’t talk to Tir. Drove her nuts!
Antonia : Nuts doesn't begin to cover it. More like hair pulling frustration.
Jett: Anyway, they go ways back writing and finished our story.
Amara: Wow! You didn’t cuss once, I’m impressed. I’m Amara. think Antonia was a little surprised when I ended up being in the middle of the third tale. I wasn't exactly very talkative in The Gathering ...I'll blame that one on Daddy...but I'm sure you'll find our story interesting. You'll learn more about the prophecy and some of the changes happening in our society. Things definitely heat up *looks at Jett* on several levels.
Antonia: You can say that again. So, I hope you guys take a look at Black Velvet. If you're new to the series, you should take a look at the first two. Now, what are we doing to celebrate? I'll let Del tell you about that.
Delilah: Ok so while we’re here we’ll be answering any and all questions. For one lucky commenter we have downloads of the two songs that fit the book – Tal Bachman’s “She’s so High” and Alannah Myles’ “Black Velvet”. For a few others we’ve got a stockpile of goodies we’ll be giving out – buttons, cover flats, bookmarks, and other goodies. So feel free to ask questions or just say hi!
Antonia : The songs will be provided via a gift download from iTunes (just figured out how to do that!) Del and I love hearing from readers and invite you to visit our websites, Delilah's and mine. You can also find us on Twitter and Facebook. And now for a look at the cover, Amara...stop drooling.
And the blurb : I scanned the tables and counter, my eyes settling on him. There he was. Dark cowboy hat, dark coat, dark hair, and too handsome for his own good. He was sitting in one of the back booths, blending with the shadows.
I walked to his table, seating myself across from him. He looked over his menu at me and smirked.
“Just can’t stay away from me, can you, Princess?”
The nickname made me bristle, but I took a deep breath. I had to keep my focus on the mission. “So it seems.”
“Interesting,” he murmured, turning his eyes back to the menu, his face hidden beneath the brim of the hat.
Now what? What exactly should I say to him?
“We need you,” I blurted. Might as well get right to the point, rather than beat around the bush.
He laid the menu on the table. His dark eyes skimmed over my hair, my lips and down to my breasts, before returning to meet mine. My breath caught in my throat. There was such intensity in those eyes.
“We,” he echoed, then his voice dropped to a gravelly tone that made me want to squirm in my seat, “…or you?”
Now exactly what was that supposed to mean? I was one of the Aikanaro, if all of us needed him, didn’t that mean by extension each of us needed him? “I need you to come --”
“Ladies first.” He tapped the brim of his hat with a finger and winked.
I blinked at him, not understanding what he meant by that. Then slowly his meaning hit me and heat crept into my cheeks. “That’s not what I meant,” I snapped. “If you would just let me finish.”
You can get your copy of the book from Lyrical Press, Inc.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Proof of Life Tea Party with Misty Evans
“Tea pot is on, the cups are waiting,
Favorite chairs anticipating,
No matter what I have to do,
My friend there's always time for you.”
As a young girl, one of my favorite stories was Alice in Wonderland. The Mad Hatter’s tea party was my favorite part. I loved setting up tea parties with my dolls and my Southern Belle momma always happily obliged by providing real tea. As soon as she saw me setting out plates and cups, she’d put the kettle of water on the stove to boil.
Other fond memories of tea exist in my mind as well. When I was sick, mom would feed me sugared Lipton tea with toast. In summer, we’d pick mint leaves to add to our pitcher of iced tea and drink it in the kitchen while we shelled peas and listened to soap operas or the radio. When our work was done, I’d take my glass of tea outside with a book and sit in the sun.
“You can never get a cup of tea large enough or a book long enough to suit me.” – C.W. Lewis
Tea and books have always gone hand in hand for me. Even now, as an author, I not only enjoy a cup of tea when I’m writing, but I also enjoy letting a character here and there enjoy a cup too. Tea is a comfort food for Brigit, the heroine in my latest release, Proof of Life. She’s been wounded by a sniper, had her apartment set on fire and then been accused of kidnapping the daughter of the Republican nominee for president. All the while, she’s been hiding a dangerous secret about her family from the Deputy Director of the CIA, Michael Stone. So when he takes her to his home in order to question her, she’s determined to keep her walls up even though she can barely keep her eyes open. Her will power is tested, not when he demands answers about her family or her true identity, but when he fixes her a cup of Earl Grey and a bowl of soup.
In the kitchen, Michael was sorting through the refrigerator. His suit coat was off and his shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. A tattoo on the inside of his left wrist caught her eye. It looked like a fancy compass. She perched on a stool at the expansive marble breakfast bar and dropped her chin into her hands to watch him.
Without a word, he moved around the kitchen, filling a pot with water and setting it on the stovetop. As the gas fire heated the water, he took a couple of mugs and a box of tea bags out of an overhead cabinet. “Earl Grey or English Teatime?” he asked nonchalantly, as if he served suspected felons tea at his breakfast bar on a regular basis.
“Earl Grey,” Brigit answered with the same measured casualness.
A few minutes later, hot tea warming her stomach, she couldn’t help but relax…
Once she relaxes, Michael continues to take care of her, bandaging her blown stitches and getting her to take a pain pill, because even though she’s been accused of kidnapping his niece, he likes her and doesn’t want her to be in pain.
Her eyes narrowed. “You tricked me.”
“I did.”
“Why?”
As he walked away to return his first-aid supplies to the bathroom, he wondered the same thing himself. She’d expected him to be the hard-ass, to interrogate her. Instead he’d done the opposite.
He stopped in the doorway and turned back. “It’s all part of my evil plan. Feed you, doctor you and give you a place to sleep since you don’t have one.”
“So I’ll be in your debt and at your mercy.”
“Exactly.” He was definitely enjoying that idea.
She mulled his confirmation over for a few seconds. “It’s working.”
“Yeah.” He grinned. “I know.”
“A woman is like a tea bag, you cannot tell how strong she is until you put her in hot water.” – Nancy Reagan
Strong female characters are like strong tea…they wake you up and make you smile. I love to throw mine in hot water and see what happens. Do they turn bitter or does their personality bloom and grow? Each one of them is like a different flavor of tea as well, some more bold and dramatic than others, like almond spice or lemon. Some have a touch of the exotic, like jasmine or chai. But even the mild-tempered can be exciting to write because I have to sit with them a bit more to appreciate their subtle mix of complex flavors. Brigit was that kind of character for me (and for Michael). I had to sit with her more than some of the other heroines I’ve written because she had so many layers, but when I put her in hot water, she flavored the story deliciously.
Making a deal with a man like Michael Stone was always risky, and yet she had no choice. The only way to protect Tory, get her sister some help, was to aid him in bringing her in.
Brigit locked her attention on Michael’s large, strong hands and considered her future. She couldn’t stop Peter, save Tory and rescue her father without help. A lot of help. And not the kind of carrot-dangling-in-your-face help the president kept offering. SIS and their resources were no longer at her fingertips. Her job was gone, her apartment left in smoldering ruins, and she was wanted in connection with Ella’s kidnapping. No more Miss Nice Guy. It was time to pull up her big girl knickers and deal.
Lucky for her, blackmail worked both ways. “I’ll help you find Peter,” she said, leaning forward so her face was only inches from his. “But in the end, if we find Tory too, you’ll pull the strings necessary to get her charges reduced and provide counseling. Deal?”
A hint of a smile danced on his lips. He tilted his head a fraction as if he were amused by her challenge. “You’re not in a position to bargain, Dr. Kent.”
She mirrored his smile and his head tilt. “Wanna bet?”
“Come, let us have some tea and continue to talk about happy things.” – Chaim Potok
So fix yourself a cup of tea, grab a good book and let’s have a tea party. I’ve saved you a seat!
Anyone who comments today is eligible in win a free ecopy of PROOF OF LIFE, the third book in my Super Agent series.
I’m also offering members of my Yahoo! Group a free prologue to PROOF OF LIFE that isn’t in the book. To join the group (which has other free reads as well), or to sign up for my newsletter, send me an email misty@readMistyEvans.com and I’ll invite you!
If you’d like to know more about me and my books, visit www.readMistyEvans.com.
Thank you to You Gotta Read for having me today!
“May you always have walls for the winds, a roof for the rain, tea beside the fire,
laughter to cheer you, those you love near you and all your heart might desire.”
Favorite chairs anticipating,
No matter what I have to do,
My friend there's always time for you.”
As a young girl, one of my favorite stories was Alice in Wonderland. The Mad Hatter’s tea party was my favorite part. I loved setting up tea parties with my dolls and my Southern Belle momma always happily obliged by providing real tea. As soon as she saw me setting out plates and cups, she’d put the kettle of water on the stove to boil.
Other fond memories of tea exist in my mind as well. When I was sick, mom would feed me sugared Lipton tea with toast. In summer, we’d pick mint leaves to add to our pitcher of iced tea and drink it in the kitchen while we shelled peas and listened to soap operas or the radio. When our work was done, I’d take my glass of tea outside with a book and sit in the sun.
“You can never get a cup of tea large enough or a book long enough to suit me.” – C.W. Lewis
Tea and books have always gone hand in hand for me. Even now, as an author, I not only enjoy a cup of tea when I’m writing, but I also enjoy letting a character here and there enjoy a cup too. Tea is a comfort food for Brigit, the heroine in my latest release, Proof of Life. She’s been wounded by a sniper, had her apartment set on fire and then been accused of kidnapping the daughter of the Republican nominee for president. All the while, she’s been hiding a dangerous secret about her family from the Deputy Director of the CIA, Michael Stone. So when he takes her to his home in order to question her, she’s determined to keep her walls up even though she can barely keep her eyes open. Her will power is tested, not when he demands answers about her family or her true identity, but when he fixes her a cup of Earl Grey and a bowl of soup.
In the kitchen, Michael was sorting through the refrigerator. His suit coat was off and his shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. A tattoo on the inside of his left wrist caught her eye. It looked like a fancy compass. She perched on a stool at the expansive marble breakfast bar and dropped her chin into her hands to watch him.
Without a word, he moved around the kitchen, filling a pot with water and setting it on the stovetop. As the gas fire heated the water, he took a couple of mugs and a box of tea bags out of an overhead cabinet. “Earl Grey or English Teatime?” he asked nonchalantly, as if he served suspected felons tea at his breakfast bar on a regular basis.
“Earl Grey,” Brigit answered with the same measured casualness.
A few minutes later, hot tea warming her stomach, she couldn’t help but relax…
Once she relaxes, Michael continues to take care of her, bandaging her blown stitches and getting her to take a pain pill, because even though she’s been accused of kidnapping his niece, he likes her and doesn’t want her to be in pain.
Her eyes narrowed. “You tricked me.”
“I did.”
“Why?”
As he walked away to return his first-aid supplies to the bathroom, he wondered the same thing himself. She’d expected him to be the hard-ass, to interrogate her. Instead he’d done the opposite.
He stopped in the doorway and turned back. “It’s all part of my evil plan. Feed you, doctor you and give you a place to sleep since you don’t have one.”
“So I’ll be in your debt and at your mercy.”
“Exactly.” He was definitely enjoying that idea.
She mulled his confirmation over for a few seconds. “It’s working.”
“Yeah.” He grinned. “I know.”
“A woman is like a tea bag, you cannot tell how strong she is until you put her in hot water.” – Nancy Reagan
Strong female characters are like strong tea…they wake you up and make you smile. I love to throw mine in hot water and see what happens. Do they turn bitter or does their personality bloom and grow? Each one of them is like a different flavor of tea as well, some more bold and dramatic than others, like almond spice or lemon. Some have a touch of the exotic, like jasmine or chai. But even the mild-tempered can be exciting to write because I have to sit with them a bit more to appreciate their subtle mix of complex flavors. Brigit was that kind of character for me (and for Michael). I had to sit with her more than some of the other heroines I’ve written because she had so many layers, but when I put her in hot water, she flavored the story deliciously.
Making a deal with a man like Michael Stone was always risky, and yet she had no choice. The only way to protect Tory, get her sister some help, was to aid him in bringing her in.
Brigit locked her attention on Michael’s large, strong hands and considered her future. She couldn’t stop Peter, save Tory and rescue her father without help. A lot of help. And not the kind of carrot-dangling-in-your-face help the president kept offering. SIS and their resources were no longer at her fingertips. Her job was gone, her apartment left in smoldering ruins, and she was wanted in connection with Ella’s kidnapping. No more Miss Nice Guy. It was time to pull up her big girl knickers and deal.
Lucky for her, blackmail worked both ways. “I’ll help you find Peter,” she said, leaning forward so her face was only inches from his. “But in the end, if we find Tory too, you’ll pull the strings necessary to get her charges reduced and provide counseling. Deal?”
A hint of a smile danced on his lips. He tilted his head a fraction as if he were amused by her challenge. “You’re not in a position to bargain, Dr. Kent.”
She mirrored his smile and his head tilt. “Wanna bet?”
“Come, let us have some tea and continue to talk about happy things.” – Chaim Potok
So fix yourself a cup of tea, grab a good book and let’s have a tea party. I’ve saved you a seat!
Anyone who comments today is eligible in win a free ecopy of PROOF OF LIFE, the third book in my Super Agent series.
I’m also offering members of my Yahoo! Group a free prologue to PROOF OF LIFE that isn’t in the book. To join the group (which has other free reads as well), or to sign up for my newsletter, send me an email misty@readMistyEvans.com and I’ll invite you!
If you’d like to know more about me and my books, visit www.readMistyEvans.com.
Thank you to You Gotta Read for having me today!
“May you always have walls for the winds, a roof for the rain, tea beside the fire,
laughter to cheer you, those you love near you and all your heart might desire.”
Thursday, October 22, 2009
What happens in Vegas... with Laura Breck
My first novel, Secret Vegas Lives, was released today from Red Rose Publishing. It’s the end of a long, wonderful dream for me, and the beginning of an exciting, new experience. I’ve been writing for many years, but I just recently dedicated myself to the art and craft of creating a work of fiction that is worthy to share with readers.
Secret Vegas Lives was conceived in Vegas, while I was there with girlfriends for a bachelorette weekend, so you can imagine the fun and naughty secrets included in the book!
Mistaken for a blackmailer, socialite Valerie Kane will do anything to keep sexy Italian crime writer Antonio Daniato from publicly exposing her, and Antonio is very interested in seeing how far Valerie will go to protect her reputation.
Bestselling author Antonio Daniato sets a trap to capture his blackmailers, and is surprised when psychologist Valerie Kane stumbles into his arms. She swears she's not involved, but he threatens to expose her unless she reveals her accomplice. When she bares her soul to prove her innocence, Antonio is fascinated, but shaken by the intensity of his desire for her.
Surrendering to temptation, Valerie risks her reputation to let Antonio into her life. But she uncovers evidence that he's staging the blackmail scenes as research for his next book. When she confronts him, it's his turn to convince her of his innocence.
Their outrageous sexual attraction keeps them in each other's arms, but mutual distrust prevents them from admitting deeper emotions. When the true blackmailer threatens to reveal Antonio's double life, Antonio yields to guilt and lets Valerie go.
But Valerie discovers his secret, and will fight for Antonio against an addiction whose hold on him may be stronger than their love.
Here’s an excerpt:
Valerie stared at the lapel of Antonio’s tuxedo jacket. "I'd hoped you wouldn't do anything rash."
"You give me too much credit, princess. I'm not ethical like you."
She looked into his eyes, disappointment knotting her stomach. "You would have caused a scene here tonight?"
"If not here, then somewhere. Yes, I would have."
She blinked, fighting back tears. How could someone be so cruel? He would have ruined her reputation on nothing more than circumstantial evidence. She hadn't misjudged him. He was a bastard.
He snapped, "Don't look at me that way."
"What way?" Her throat closed, tears were imminent.
His voice dropped low, sensual. "As though your sexy blue eyes can see right into my soul."
Uncertainty gripped her, the room closed in. "Imagine how surprised I am to find you have no soul."
"Ouch." He flinched. "You’ve got claws, princess." His smile flashed evil.
She wanted to wipe it off his face--with her lips. She choked on the desire, zinged with energy, amazingly alive. Like she hadn’t felt in days, like she never felt with her boyfriend Troy. Guilt, fear, passion, anger. The conflicting emotions warred with her sanity, and panic swamped her.
"I can't do this, Antonio..." Her voice cracked and she gasped for breath.
She broke away from him and ran. The opposite direction from where Troy's big, safe arms would protect her. In the empty lobby, she veered toward an exit, then changed direction and darted around a corner where a couch sat hidden in a dark alcove between two potted palms.
She sat and began the steady breathing technique and pressed the reflexology spot on her wrist which together should hold off anxiety. Then gave up and dropped her head into her hands and broke down crying.
“Cara mia, no." He sat next to her, his warm arm wrapped around her shoulders, comforting. He stuffed his handkerchief in her fingers. "You know I'm not worth crying about."
She sat bolt upright and glared at him, allowing her anger to emerge, effectively preventing the panic attack from overtaking her.
"You arrogant bastard."
"That's one of my best features."
“I’m not crying because of your cruelty, I’m crying because of mine! I never act this way. Something about you brings it out in me.” She tried to shrug off his arm, but he wouldn't budge.
“Should we analyze it? We've got a couch right here,” he wiggled his eyebrows at her.
“You are not funny!” She dabbed at her eyes with his handkerchief. She must be a mess. Her makeup running, her eyes red, and her nose sniffly.
He laughed. "You're sexy when you're mad."
“Don't. Don't try to laugh this off. This is the cure I need to get you out of my system."
His face sobered. Quietly he said, "How can I be in your system when I've never held you." He tightened his arm around her, with the fingers of his other hand he caressed her jaw. "And I've never tasted..." His lips pressed hot against her neck, his tongue teased her skin.
"Wait," she murmured breathlessly.
He continued his assault. "And we've never really kissed," he whispered, nipping her ear with his teeth. The bite sent waves of passionate chills down her body.
Oh, God, what was she doing? They were in the middle of Caesar's Palace and she'd arrived with another man.
"No." She straightened her arms and pushed him away, looked into his beautiful brown eyes and almost lost her willpower again.
"Yes. It's going to happen." He smiled his charismatic, irresistible smile, "Runny mascara and all."
She broke free and stood, catching her breath. How was he able to make her lose control? Her knees shook with excitement and her libido commanded her to fling herself onto his lap and let him kiss her senseless.
"Antonio." He sat there patiently waiting for her, so handsome it made her ache to touch him. His smile was too confident, as though he knew there wasn't a woman capable of resisting him.
She took a step toward him...
Just as Troy came around the corner.
I lived in Las Vegas for three years, and loved the diverse culture and extremely unique entertainment opportunities. And I want to give back to the city as well. A portion of the proceeds of Secret Vegas Lives will be donated to The Shade Tree Shelter, a shelter for women, children and their pets.
It’s such a wonderful idea to allow women in difficult domestic situations to bring their pets with them when leaving their homes to start a better life for their families. Many women stay in abusive situations because they don’t want to leave their furry friends. Read more about The Shade Tree on my website, LauraBreck.com.
I hope you’ve enjoyed reading a small sample of my work, and I look forward to reading your comments about my blog. A huge thank you to You Gotta Read blog for allowing me to post today! It’s one of my favorite sites, and there’s always something interesting going on here.
Best wishes,
Laura Breck
LauraBreck.com
Buy Secret Vegas Lives at http://redrosepublishing.com/bookstore/product_info.php?manufacturers_id=225&products_id=499
Secret Vegas Lives was conceived in Vegas, while I was there with girlfriends for a bachelorette weekend, so you can imagine the fun and naughty secrets included in the book!
Mistaken for a blackmailer, socialite Valerie Kane will do anything to keep sexy Italian crime writer Antonio Daniato from publicly exposing her, and Antonio is very interested in seeing how far Valerie will go to protect her reputation.
Bestselling author Antonio Daniato sets a trap to capture his blackmailers, and is surprised when psychologist Valerie Kane stumbles into his arms. She swears she's not involved, but he threatens to expose her unless she reveals her accomplice. When she bares her soul to prove her innocence, Antonio is fascinated, but shaken by the intensity of his desire for her.
Surrendering to temptation, Valerie risks her reputation to let Antonio into her life. But she uncovers evidence that he's staging the blackmail scenes as research for his next book. When she confronts him, it's his turn to convince her of his innocence.
Their outrageous sexual attraction keeps them in each other's arms, but mutual distrust prevents them from admitting deeper emotions. When the true blackmailer threatens to reveal Antonio's double life, Antonio yields to guilt and lets Valerie go.
But Valerie discovers his secret, and will fight for Antonio against an addiction whose hold on him may be stronger than their love.
Here’s an excerpt:
Valerie stared at the lapel of Antonio’s tuxedo jacket. "I'd hoped you wouldn't do anything rash."
"You give me too much credit, princess. I'm not ethical like you."
She looked into his eyes, disappointment knotting her stomach. "You would have caused a scene here tonight?"
"If not here, then somewhere. Yes, I would have."
She blinked, fighting back tears. How could someone be so cruel? He would have ruined her reputation on nothing more than circumstantial evidence. She hadn't misjudged him. He was a bastard.
He snapped, "Don't look at me that way."
"What way?" Her throat closed, tears were imminent.
His voice dropped low, sensual. "As though your sexy blue eyes can see right into my soul."
Uncertainty gripped her, the room closed in. "Imagine how surprised I am to find you have no soul."
"Ouch." He flinched. "You’ve got claws, princess." His smile flashed evil.
She wanted to wipe it off his face--with her lips. She choked on the desire, zinged with energy, amazingly alive. Like she hadn’t felt in days, like she never felt with her boyfriend Troy. Guilt, fear, passion, anger. The conflicting emotions warred with her sanity, and panic swamped her.
"I can't do this, Antonio..." Her voice cracked and she gasped for breath.
She broke away from him and ran. The opposite direction from where Troy's big, safe arms would protect her. In the empty lobby, she veered toward an exit, then changed direction and darted around a corner where a couch sat hidden in a dark alcove between two potted palms.
She sat and began the steady breathing technique and pressed the reflexology spot on her wrist which together should hold off anxiety. Then gave up and dropped her head into her hands and broke down crying.
“Cara mia, no." He sat next to her, his warm arm wrapped around her shoulders, comforting. He stuffed his handkerchief in her fingers. "You know I'm not worth crying about."
She sat bolt upright and glared at him, allowing her anger to emerge, effectively preventing the panic attack from overtaking her.
"You arrogant bastard."
"That's one of my best features."
“I’m not crying because of your cruelty, I’m crying because of mine! I never act this way. Something about you brings it out in me.” She tried to shrug off his arm, but he wouldn't budge.
“Should we analyze it? We've got a couch right here,” he wiggled his eyebrows at her.
“You are not funny!” She dabbed at her eyes with his handkerchief. She must be a mess. Her makeup running, her eyes red, and her nose sniffly.
He laughed. "You're sexy when you're mad."
“Don't. Don't try to laugh this off. This is the cure I need to get you out of my system."
His face sobered. Quietly he said, "How can I be in your system when I've never held you." He tightened his arm around her, with the fingers of his other hand he caressed her jaw. "And I've never tasted..." His lips pressed hot against her neck, his tongue teased her skin.
"Wait," she murmured breathlessly.
He continued his assault. "And we've never really kissed," he whispered, nipping her ear with his teeth. The bite sent waves of passionate chills down her body.
Oh, God, what was she doing? They were in the middle of Caesar's Palace and she'd arrived with another man.
"No." She straightened her arms and pushed him away, looked into his beautiful brown eyes and almost lost her willpower again.
"Yes. It's going to happen." He smiled his charismatic, irresistible smile, "Runny mascara and all."
She broke free and stood, catching her breath. How was he able to make her lose control? Her knees shook with excitement and her libido commanded her to fling herself onto his lap and let him kiss her senseless.
"Antonio." He sat there patiently waiting for her, so handsome it made her ache to touch him. His smile was too confident, as though he knew there wasn't a woman capable of resisting him.
She took a step toward him...
Just as Troy came around the corner.
I lived in Las Vegas for three years, and loved the diverse culture and extremely unique entertainment opportunities. And I want to give back to the city as well. A portion of the proceeds of Secret Vegas Lives will be donated to The Shade Tree Shelter, a shelter for women, children and their pets.
It’s such a wonderful idea to allow women in difficult domestic situations to bring their pets with them when leaving their homes to start a better life for their families. Many women stay in abusive situations because they don’t want to leave their furry friends. Read more about The Shade Tree on my website, LauraBreck.com.
I hope you’ve enjoyed reading a small sample of my work, and I look forward to reading your comments about my blog. A huge thank you to You Gotta Read blog for allowing me to post today! It’s one of my favorite sites, and there’s always something interesting going on here.
Best wishes,
Laura Breck
LauraBreck.com
Buy Secret Vegas Lives at http://redrosepublishing.com/bookstore/product_info.php?manufacturers_id=225&products_id=499
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
WHO'S AFRAID OF THE BIG BAD WOLF?
With Halloween approaching, paranormal creatures are out in full force, including my personal favorite, the wolf shifter. But what are the origins of this enigmatic creature?
Believe it or not, legends of wolf shifters exist as far back as history has been written. One of the earliest is found in Greek mythology. When the god Lycaeon served human flesh to the gods, Zeus turned him into a werewolf.
Most myths tell of wolves who are born, not made, and who shift voluntarily. They shift completely into wolf form, not a “wolfman” hybrid. Later, the full moon was linked to the change, which makes perfect sense as the full moon was historically linked to creating madness in humans.
My recent release, Blood Wolf, tell the story of a wolf shifter who was abandoned at birth and adopted by a castle caretaker in contemporary Scotland. Consequently, he knows little about his condition. Blood Wolf is available in Got Wolf? Volume One, an anthology from The Wild Rose Press.
Blurb:
When mysterious Damian MacGowan saves Suzanne Wood from a gang of thugs in a small Scotland town, she's beyond grateful. But his possessive need to be near her troubles her. Damian doesn't understand why he's drawn to Suzanne. He knows only that he must have her, or he will die. As the two get to know each other, love blossoms. But Damian has a secret, and an enemy, that may keep him from Suzanne forever.
Excerpt:
Damian approached her, took her hand in his, and caressed her palm with his scabbed fingertips. “I don't expect you to understand this when I can't explain it to myself. But there is not a doubt in my mind that you belong with me.”
“You don't know anything about me.”
“I know your hair is the color of burnt mahogany, and it feels like silk against my skin.” He sifted her tresses with his fingers, then cupped her cheek. “I know your eyes are like the night fog, with little golden sparks that pierce the thickness around my soul.” He ran his thumb across her lower lip. “I know your mouth tastes of wintergreen and fresh blueberries. I know your body feels like heaven pressed to mine. I know your beautiful name fits you. I know there's an idiot somewhere who let you go, but I thank God for his stupidity.” He lightly traced the angle of her jaw line. “I know ye're mine.”
Suzanne quivered; her juices pooled in her panties. This man was seducing her with mere words. She was close to climaxing already, something she had only managed previously by masturbating. Never with a man.
“I won't force you to lie with me,” Damian said, “but I will share this room with you. That's not negotiable. I need to be close to you.”
“I can't allow you to stay here. If you want the room--”
“I said it's not negotiable!” Suzanne jumped as Damian pounded his fist into the adjacent wall. “I need to be with you. I need your scent near me.”
“What you want is impossible.” Her voice cracked with nerves. “I refuse to share a bed with a man I just met.”
“I will leave you alone, but we will share this bed.” He lifted his shirt over his head and threw it over a chair. She gulped in a sharp breath. His chest was golden and beautiful, pure muscle accented by a smattering of black hair. Suzanne instinctively looked away as he began to unbuckle his jeans.
“No.” He cupped her face in his hands, forcing her gaze onto his. “I need you to look at me. To see me.”
Helen Hardt is an attorney and stay-at-home mom turned award-winning romance author. She met her real-life hero in law school, and they live in Colorado with their two teenage sons. Helen writes contemporary, historical, paranormal, and erotic romance. Her non-writing interests include Harley rides with her husband, attending her sons' sports and music performances, traveling, and Taekwondo (she's a blackbelt.) Visit Helen at http://www.helenhardt.com/ and http://www.helensheroes.blogspot.com/.
Believe it or not, legends of wolf shifters exist as far back as history has been written. One of the earliest is found in Greek mythology. When the god Lycaeon served human flesh to the gods, Zeus turned him into a werewolf.
Most myths tell of wolves who are born, not made, and who shift voluntarily. They shift completely into wolf form, not a “wolfman” hybrid. Later, the full moon was linked to the change, which makes perfect sense as the full moon was historically linked to creating madness in humans.
My recent release, Blood Wolf, tell the story of a wolf shifter who was abandoned at birth and adopted by a castle caretaker in contemporary Scotland. Consequently, he knows little about his condition. Blood Wolf is available in Got Wolf? Volume One, an anthology from The Wild Rose Press.
Blurb:
When mysterious Damian MacGowan saves Suzanne Wood from a gang of thugs in a small Scotland town, she's beyond grateful. But his possessive need to be near her troubles her. Damian doesn't understand why he's drawn to Suzanne. He knows only that he must have her, or he will die. As the two get to know each other, love blossoms. But Damian has a secret, and an enemy, that may keep him from Suzanne forever.
Excerpt:
Damian approached her, took her hand in his, and caressed her palm with his scabbed fingertips. “I don't expect you to understand this when I can't explain it to myself. But there is not a doubt in my mind that you belong with me.”
“You don't know anything about me.”
“I know your hair is the color of burnt mahogany, and it feels like silk against my skin.” He sifted her tresses with his fingers, then cupped her cheek. “I know your eyes are like the night fog, with little golden sparks that pierce the thickness around my soul.” He ran his thumb across her lower lip. “I know your mouth tastes of wintergreen and fresh blueberries. I know your body feels like heaven pressed to mine. I know your beautiful name fits you. I know there's an idiot somewhere who let you go, but I thank God for his stupidity.” He lightly traced the angle of her jaw line. “I know ye're mine.”
Suzanne quivered; her juices pooled in her panties. This man was seducing her with mere words. She was close to climaxing already, something she had only managed previously by masturbating. Never with a man.
“I won't force you to lie with me,” Damian said, “but I will share this room with you. That's not negotiable. I need to be close to you.”
“I can't allow you to stay here. If you want the room--”
“I said it's not negotiable!” Suzanne jumped as Damian pounded his fist into the adjacent wall. “I need to be with you. I need your scent near me.”
“What you want is impossible.” Her voice cracked with nerves. “I refuse to share a bed with a man I just met.”
“I will leave you alone, but we will share this bed.” He lifted his shirt over his head and threw it over a chair. She gulped in a sharp breath. His chest was golden and beautiful, pure muscle accented by a smattering of black hair. Suzanne instinctively looked away as he began to unbuckle his jeans.
“No.” He cupped her face in his hands, forcing her gaze onto his. “I need you to look at me. To see me.”
Helen Hardt is an attorney and stay-at-home mom turned award-winning romance author. She met her real-life hero in law school, and they live in Colorado with their two teenage sons. Helen writes contemporary, historical, paranormal, and erotic romance. Her non-writing interests include Harley rides with her husband, attending her sons' sports and music performances, traveling, and Taekwondo (she's a blackbelt.) Visit Helen at http://www.helenhardt.com/ and http://www.helensheroes.blogspot.com/.
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
The joys of co-authorship - Antonia Tiranth
Hello everyone! In just two short weeks, on November 2, my next book Black Velvet. Black Velvet is the third installment in the Tales of the Rikashi series and follows two more of the Aikanaro through their journey to discover their purpose. While my first two books will always be special to me, this one is even more special. This book was written by both me and my very wonderful friend Delilah K. Stephans.
Delilah and I have been writing together for almost six years but we have never met face to face. We met early in 2003 on some Inu Yasha fan forums. Through a series of fortunate events the two of us started writing together and we've become great friends and writing buddies. If you don't have a writing buddy I encourage you to try to find one. Del knows just when I need a swift kick in the rump to get me back on track. Now, you may be wondering exactly how co-writing works. There are several ways you can do it and Del and I have done just about all of them. Our first joint venture was of the reactive writing type, kind of a role play through email where we each had a particular character we wrote. It went something like this:
I might write in an email : Jackie walked into the room, put her hands on her hips and glared at her husband.
Del's reply : Sam slowly lowered the newspaper he was reading to meet his wife's gaze. "What?"
And it would continue in this way. You have to go back and smooth this out because you have a lot of POV shifts this way but its a good place to start.
Another method and the way we wrote Black Velvet is to do all the plotting together and then have one of you write the entire thing. The other goes back through and adds, deletes, edits without tracking changes. Then you start bouncing it back and forth to do the normal edits.
I can't tell you how happy I am to have met Del and write with her. When my muse is having a mental block or won't talk to me, she knows just the questions to ask to get things moving again. We have several other joint projects in the works but this is our debut in publishing as a team and we're really excited about this one so I hope you check it out on November 2.
Here's a little peek :
I tossed the rental car keys on the table at the entrance to my small suite and watched as they skittered across it and fell to the carpeted floor with a soft thump. Only now that I was several miles away from him, did my anger at his high-handed actions hit me. I stomped across the room, picking up one of the pillows and burying my face in it before the angry cry escaped my lips. As soon as I stopped screaming, I tossed the pillow back onto the bed violently. “He did it again!”
How could he have that effect on me? The second he touched me, or looked at me with those dark, brooding eyes, my mind was reduced to mush. This didn’t happen in real life. It only happened in those stupid romance novels I loved so much.
I paced the small room, muttering darkly. “Stupid male, thinks he can take whatever he wants and just walk away after he gets it.” Of course, that’s exactly what he had done, and I hadn’t done a thing to stop him. I hadn’t even had the chance to ask him anything. He just kissed me, got on that motorcycle of his, and left me standing in the parking lot looking like a fool.
“Amara? You okay, lass?”
I had to smile. Arafin was always concerned about everyone’s happiness, that and getting on Tura’s nerves. “Yes, Fin. I'm fine.”
“You dunna seem fine ta’ me. Tell ole Fin what the trouble is.” I could almost see him lounging in a chair, his feet propped up on the nearest table.
“Really, Fin, I'm fine. Just a little frustrated. I'll figure it out.”
“Alrighty, if ya say so. Take it easy, luv.”
I sighed and sat on the edge of the bed, kicking at my suitcase. Why couldn’t dear, sweet, gentle, funny Arafin make me melt the way Jett did?
Not for the first time I wondered what was I doing here anyway. Why in the world did I agree to this?
“Because you needed to do something your father didn’t want you to do,” I said aloud.
I loved Daddy, but he always treated me like a brainless doll that he could mold into any shape he wanted. But I wasn’t. I wanted things out of the future. Love, respect, a purpose for my life. Things Daddy didn’t want me to have because they interfered with the plans he’d made for me. At one time, I may have been able to live with that but not anymore. Not since I met Fin, Shirak, Jo and the others.
Well, I’d just have to try again tomorrow to talk to Jett. I was here, and I had a mission to accomplish. If I could somehow manage to keep my mind focused on the purpose for my trip and not on those strong, firm lips, gentle, slightly calloused hands, dark, sultry eyes, body made for sin -- oh damn it, I might as well admit it was everything about the man that fascinated me!
Why wait until tomorrow? Why not show him, he couldn’t walk away from me like that?
I moved to the mirror, looking at my reflection. My curls were wild as always, and I finger combed them into some semblance of order that probably wouldn’t last long. Bending to retrieve the keys, I concentrated on his presence in my mind. He was doing his best to block me, but he couldn’t do it completely. I knew where he was, or at least in what direction I needed to go to find him. Thank Bahamut, he wasn’t back at that horrible bar.
Almost an hour later, I pulled into the parking lot of a small restaurant and the presence of his motorcycle confirmed what I already knew. He was here. Turning off the engine I sat in the car for a moment, gathering my courage. Taking a deep breath, I got out and marched toward the entrance.
It was a small diner, with booths and a bar-like seating area. I scanned the tables and counter, my eyes settling on him. There he was. Dark cowboy hat, dark coat, dark hair, and too handsome for his own good. He was sitting in one of the back booths, blending with the shadows.
I walked to his table, seating myself across from him. He looked over his menu at me and smirked.
“Just can’t stay away from me, can you, Princess?”
The nickname made me bristle, but I took a deep breath. I had to keep my focus on the mission. “So it seems.”
“Interesting,” he murmured, turning his eyes back to the menu, his face hidden beneath the brim of the hat.
Now what? What exactly should I say to him?
“We need you,” I blurted. Might as well get right to the point, rather than beat around the bush.
He laid the menu on the table. His dark eyes skimmed over my hair, my lips and down to my breasts, before returning to meet mine. My breath caught in my throat. There was such intensity in those eyes.
“We,” he echoed, then his voice dropped to a gravelly tone that made me want to squirm in my seat, “…or you?”
Now exactly what was that supposed to mean? I was one of the Aikanaro, if all of us needed him, didn’t that mean by extension each of us needed him? “I need you to come --”
“Ladies first.” He tapped the brim of his hat with a finger and winked.
I blinked at him, not understanding what he meant by that. Then slowly his meaning hit me and heat crept into my cheeks. “That’s not what I meant,” I snapped. “If you would just let me finish.”
And what peek wouldn't be complete without a look at the cover?
Delilah and I have been writing together for almost six years but we have never met face to face. We met early in 2003 on some Inu Yasha fan forums. Through a series of fortunate events the two of us started writing together and we've become great friends and writing buddies. If you don't have a writing buddy I encourage you to try to find one. Del knows just when I need a swift kick in the rump to get me back on track. Now, you may be wondering exactly how co-writing works. There are several ways you can do it and Del and I have done just about all of them. Our first joint venture was of the reactive writing type, kind of a role play through email where we each had a particular character we wrote. It went something like this:
I might write in an email : Jackie walked into the room, put her hands on her hips and glared at her husband.
Del's reply : Sam slowly lowered the newspaper he was reading to meet his wife's gaze. "What?"
And it would continue in this way. You have to go back and smooth this out because you have a lot of POV shifts this way but its a good place to start.
Another method and the way we wrote Black Velvet is to do all the plotting together and then have one of you write the entire thing. The other goes back through and adds, deletes, edits without tracking changes. Then you start bouncing it back and forth to do the normal edits.
I can't tell you how happy I am to have met Del and write with her. When my muse is having a mental block or won't talk to me, she knows just the questions to ask to get things moving again. We have several other joint projects in the works but this is our debut in publishing as a team and we're really excited about this one so I hope you check it out on November 2.
Here's a little peek :
I tossed the rental car keys on the table at the entrance to my small suite and watched as they skittered across it and fell to the carpeted floor with a soft thump. Only now that I was several miles away from him, did my anger at his high-handed actions hit me. I stomped across the room, picking up one of the pillows and burying my face in it before the angry cry escaped my lips. As soon as I stopped screaming, I tossed the pillow back onto the bed violently. “He did it again!”
How could he have that effect on me? The second he touched me, or looked at me with those dark, brooding eyes, my mind was reduced to mush. This didn’t happen in real life. It only happened in those stupid romance novels I loved so much.
I paced the small room, muttering darkly. “Stupid male, thinks he can take whatever he wants and just walk away after he gets it.” Of course, that’s exactly what he had done, and I hadn’t done a thing to stop him. I hadn’t even had the chance to ask him anything. He just kissed me, got on that motorcycle of his, and left me standing in the parking lot looking like a fool.
“Amara? You okay, lass?”
I had to smile. Arafin was always concerned about everyone’s happiness, that and getting on Tura’s nerves. “Yes, Fin. I'm fine.”
“You dunna seem fine ta’ me. Tell ole Fin what the trouble is.” I could almost see him lounging in a chair, his feet propped up on the nearest table.
“Really, Fin, I'm fine. Just a little frustrated. I'll figure it out.”
“Alrighty, if ya say so. Take it easy, luv.”
I sighed and sat on the edge of the bed, kicking at my suitcase. Why couldn’t dear, sweet, gentle, funny Arafin make me melt the way Jett did?
Not for the first time I wondered what was I doing here anyway. Why in the world did I agree to this?
“Because you needed to do something your father didn’t want you to do,” I said aloud.
I loved Daddy, but he always treated me like a brainless doll that he could mold into any shape he wanted. But I wasn’t. I wanted things out of the future. Love, respect, a purpose for my life. Things Daddy didn’t want me to have because they interfered with the plans he’d made for me. At one time, I may have been able to live with that but not anymore. Not since I met Fin, Shirak, Jo and the others.
Well, I’d just have to try again tomorrow to talk to Jett. I was here, and I had a mission to accomplish. If I could somehow manage to keep my mind focused on the purpose for my trip and not on those strong, firm lips, gentle, slightly calloused hands, dark, sultry eyes, body made for sin -- oh damn it, I might as well admit it was everything about the man that fascinated me!
Why wait until tomorrow? Why not show him, he couldn’t walk away from me like that?
I moved to the mirror, looking at my reflection. My curls were wild as always, and I finger combed them into some semblance of order that probably wouldn’t last long. Bending to retrieve the keys, I concentrated on his presence in my mind. He was doing his best to block me, but he couldn’t do it completely. I knew where he was, or at least in what direction I needed to go to find him. Thank Bahamut, he wasn’t back at that horrible bar.
Almost an hour later, I pulled into the parking lot of a small restaurant and the presence of his motorcycle confirmed what I already knew. He was here. Turning off the engine I sat in the car for a moment, gathering my courage. Taking a deep breath, I got out and marched toward the entrance.
It was a small diner, with booths and a bar-like seating area. I scanned the tables and counter, my eyes settling on him. There he was. Dark cowboy hat, dark coat, dark hair, and too handsome for his own good. He was sitting in one of the back booths, blending with the shadows.
I walked to his table, seating myself across from him. He looked over his menu at me and smirked.
“Just can’t stay away from me, can you, Princess?”
The nickname made me bristle, but I took a deep breath. I had to keep my focus on the mission. “So it seems.”
“Interesting,” he murmured, turning his eyes back to the menu, his face hidden beneath the brim of the hat.
Now what? What exactly should I say to him?
“We need you,” I blurted. Might as well get right to the point, rather than beat around the bush.
He laid the menu on the table. His dark eyes skimmed over my hair, my lips and down to my breasts, before returning to meet mine. My breath caught in my throat. There was such intensity in those eyes.
“We,” he echoed, then his voice dropped to a gravelly tone that made me want to squirm in my seat, “…or you?”
Now exactly what was that supposed to mean? I was one of the Aikanaro, if all of us needed him, didn’t that mean by extension each of us needed him? “I need you to come --”
“Ladies first.” He tapped the brim of his hat with a finger and winked.
I blinked at him, not understanding what he meant by that. Then slowly his meaning hit me and heat crept into my cheeks. “That’s not what I meant,” I snapped. “If you would just let me finish.”
And what peek wouldn't be complete without a look at the cover?
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