Archive for September, 2009

A Stroll Along My Feminine Side

Recollections of a sensitive new age writer

By

Steve Boiseman

A guy writing Romance for the feminine market is setting himself up for all sorts of difficulties arising, simply and unavoidably, from the testosterone coursing through his veins.

Let me explain.  Growing up my Dad was a fan of, among other genres, the pulp western.  “Shoot ‘em ups,” he’d call them and they were filled with fistfights and showdowns outside the livery stable.  In fact, forty years later, I still buy them from the newsagent down the street.  The Cleveland Western; “Look for the name, trust the quality” have been a constant in my reading life.  They are ninety odd page pulp with titles like: The Naked Noose by Emerson Dodge, Harry and the Can Can Girls also by Emerson Dodge, Lonely Rides the Gunfighter by Sundown McCabe and The Lady Never Sleeps by Clay Anthony.  The colorful paper covers are adorned with semi naked saloon girls swooning at the side of the ubiquitous gunfighter.

The basic premise of these marvelous novellas is that without something important to fight and risk his life for, the reader simply does not care what happens to the lonesome gunslinger who, let’s face it, often has conflicted values and serious anger management issues.  What could be so important to motivate this haunted and taciturn cowpoke? His horse?  His herd of recalcitrant longhorn steers?  Nah. It has to be a woman, of course.

Romance in the Wild West was among my earliest reading experiences (along side science fiction and horror, of course) and instilled in me a basic principle of fiction.

Love, and its companion sex, is the only motivator that counts.  Without a little sexual tension, without the possibility of enduring love put at risk by the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune even the grandest tales of war, revolution, vampires, aliens etc lack something vital.  Sure, they exist, and they are good reads, but for every story without romance on the library’s bookshelves there are a hundred that have.

That was my first lesson.  The stories that I, just like my Dad, enjoyed reading always had a liberal dose of romance.  There were always tender moments when even the most rancorous frontiersman shared intimate murmurings of love with his damsel in distress.

My Mum, on the other hand, read Mills and Boon.  Here too, the men were often driven, decisive and single minded.  The heroines, though, were of a different ilk.  None were helpless damsels in distress.  Instead, they were decisive, single minded career women who by circumstance were thrown into the arms of men they didn’t always take to.  Not in the beginning at least.  The men had to prove themselves to the heroine.  In westerns, the hero’s courage and noble character was a given and the helpless female just falls in line.

This provided me with my second lesson.  Romance means different things to male and female readers.  It’s all about who the reader identifies with.  Testosterone laden males tend towards the like of Jessie James and Wyatt Earp, characters who they’d like to be, who by virtue of their strength and skill at arms attract the love and adoration of every female in town.  Readers of Mills and Boon however, identify with strong woman who only attract the love of men who are strong enough to earn that love.  But strength of arms is not enough.  He has to have a heart.  This is a critical difference and requires the male character to be more in touch with his feelings (and willing to explore and discuss them) than a hapless gunslinger could ever do.

The third lesson that my fellow female authors (Lexxie Couper is a shining light here) taught me was that while sex scenes in stories directed at the male market may be more of the nuts and bolts type; tab A into slot B, writing for women needs to focus more on the emotional impact the act has on the female character within the context of the plot.

This provides me with my greatest challenge.  With testosterone pumping through my system, I can’t help but throw in the mechanical aspects of the act, it’s in my nature.  So I need to temper the physical with the emotional.  I think there is room for both, otherwise how do you know who is doing what to who.  The important thing is to include the emotional impact that the sensual act has on the characters and, of course, how it progresses the plot.

It’s a difficult balance to achieve and I have to be honest, I don’t always achieve it (I blame testosterone of course) but reviewers have been kind to me, so I must be getting close.

I owe a lot to both my Dad’s  ‘shoot ‘em ups’ and my Mum’s Mills and Boons to have introduced me to the fundamental element of storytelling and, despite the battle between hormones, I thoroughly enjoy writing romance, where the emotional and sexual context is the driving force behind the plot, and whether my characters are saving the universe from aliens or surviving the night surrounded by thirsty vampires, just as it is true in real life, it is what’s at stake for my characters that counts; that is simply the love of someone worthy.

On Chick-Porn and Being a Man in the Romance Business

By Jonathan Wright

I don’t write Romance. Or even romance. I don’t read it, either.
I’m a guy if you hadn’t noticed. I write for Margaret Riley at Changeling Press. So what am I doing in the romance business if I don’t write Romance?
In my admittedly limited experience a Romance generally follows the fairly rigid structure of a beautiful, feisty (always feisty) woman with Issues finding the Perfect Mate, resolving her Issues, and living happily ever after. I call this the Harlequin Universal Romance Storyline (HURS). Just for the record, reading about Issues – as opposed to say, car chases and explosions – isn’t something I really like unless it’s the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit issue.
But Erotic Romance (ER) generally has an adventure element, something involving action, which is consistent with speculative fiction genres. In fact the whole ER industry tends to avoid anything that can be labeled mainstream. We have Westerns, Regency, straight fantasy (werewolves and vampires abound), futuristic science fiction, and so on.
I write about manly men doing manly things, like killing monsters and enjoying hot sex with luscious babes. Doesn’t sound like romance, does it? But a lot of the basic elements are there. Studly hero, built babe, they meet and feel a great attraction, they have issues and adventures. The hero saves the heroine form the slavering monster and they get together at the end. Isn’t that romance?
Add enough sex and it becomes erotic romance. Partly because I am irreverent I call this chick-porn. I just love the debate that Erotic Romance is NOT porn, by God, because it has Plot, and Characters. Okay, I get the point, and overall I am in agreement, but I also stand by Justice Potter Stewart: “I can’t define it but I know it when I see it”. He really meant (in my not at all humble opinion) that porn was anything sexual he didn’t like or that made him uncomfortable. In other words, he wanted to repress it because he didn’t like it, not because it met any absolute definition of good or bad. By that measure he was a hypocrite and a fool. But if you must have a definition, that’s pretty much it. As proof I offer anything written by anyone in the ER business now; when I was a kid in the 60s all of it would have been unquestionably labeled porn. So can it, okay? It’s just a convenient label.
Anyway, read anything I have written (Please, read it all. I don’t mind. Take your time) and you will see that the core of all my stories is really the relationship of two people who desperately need each other.
I have not had to fight for acceptance, per se, although one female reviewer totally trashed my first story (“Shadow Man”, http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=51) essentially calling it a male sex fantasy populated with brainless bimbos. I think she missed several salient plot points that would contradict that assessment, but a rule of writing is that you can’t answer criticism; the reader either likes it or she doesn’t. But her tone was distinctly patronizing: He’s a man, what do you expect?
On the other hand another female reviewer said “Shadow Man” was “…absolutely brilliant with a caveat that it has the potential to offend almost everyone.” I’ll go with door number two.
I depart from the typical ER mold in another respect. Although the usual ER plot seems to resemble an adventure novel more and more, a lot of them do seem to go for some permutation of the Hunky Prince of Werewolves who goes after the Beautiful, Feisty Princess of Vampires. There is always more action than in the HURS, like him saving her from something, or her saving him, and both of them persevering against the prejudices of their respective races. That may be the new romance paradigm.
My stories aren’t like that. For example, instead of being the Prince of (Enter Exotic Lifestyle Here), or the greatest art thief in the galaxy, in the first story of the Horn Collection (“In the Belly of the Night”, http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1159), Joe Horn is a homeless Vietnam vet who tries to save other homeless people from the Lovecraft-inspired monsters that hide in the shadowed alleys and seamy back streets of a modern city. Here’s an excerpt:

She had a third floor studio walk-up in a genteel old place. Wood floors and eighteen-inch masonry walls, the stucco texturing of which had aged like old ivory. She had a couch, a table and a bed that occupied one corner. She stood in the center of the room, hugging herself, with her back to him.

He stood behind her, waiting. Thinking of all the reasons he ought to just slip out the door.

Still turned away from him, in a low voice she said, “I used to be afraid of the dark. Growing up, I wouldn’t go down in the basement, ever. So one night our cat got locked in down there. He wandered around, crying, and I was so scared, but I hated hearing him in so much — anxiety. The basement had one little naked light bulb, and there were dark corners and shadows and it was scary, but I went down there and found him and brought him out, because I loved him and didn’t want him to be afraid.”

She paused.

“I’m still afraid of the dark, but I’d go down into the basement again, if I had to.” She turned to face him. “I’m — sorry — about your friend.”

He didn’t say anything, but he wanted to dive into her big eyes that were like portals to another world, a world he used to know, but had been away from for a long time. A place where life was a little simpler, and sanity had some meaning.

“I guess I’ll understand if you say no,” she said in a small voice, “but I’d really like it if you’d fuck me.”

She didn’t seem vulnerable or afraid, just lonely and in need of physical affirmation.

He gave her a sexually charged response. “I need a shower.”

“Is it safe?” she asked, probably thinking of the storm grate in the alley.

“Nothing is safe.”  Great erotic conversation, Horn.

But her lips parted in response.

He sensed her immediate, impulsive arousal at the prospect of not being safe. It provoked a similar response in him. Maybe that’s what turns her on. The danger. But there’s a difference between danger and terror.

We could be very bad for each other.

Without preamble, she peeled off the sweater, revealing nothing but firm, smooth skin, swelling breasts and prominent nipples. She stripped with an economy of motion that nonetheless failed to disguise her abundant sensuality. When she stood nude before him, she waited a moment as he appraised her.

“Do I pass?” Tremulous words, with a hard edge underneath.

“You’re not meat,” he said softly, shrugging out of his jacket. “You’re a beautiful, sexy woman, and right now you’re doing what beautiful, sexy women do best.”

“What’s that?”

“Getting me hard.”

She licked her lips. “I — don’t — think I can — wait –”

His clothes fell to the floor, revealing a tall, lean body. Scars crisscrossed his chest.

Her lips, lush and full, parted again. “You’ve — been hurt –”

“Mistakes.” His cock throbbed.

She stared at it. “Now I know I can’t wait.” She knelt in a quick motion, right in front of him. “Can I –”

He said nothing, but his eyes narrowed, and she read him correctly. She grasped his cock and guided it to her mouth. Her lips closed over it and he almost closed his eyes as she enveloped him in her wet heat.

He thrust his cock deeper into her mouth. She grasped his buttocks, pulling him deeper still.

As she rode him with her lips, her hands went between her legs. He held her head and slid his cock in and out of her face. She made muffled sounds of pleasure as she masturbated. Her teeth scraped his cock, making him hiss in suppressed pleasure. He fought mightily to not come, to not lose control.

To lose control meant death.

She rocked her body harder and faster, and her muffled moans became little squeals, and then she stiffened, trembling except for her hips, which gyrated in little circles as she came.

He pulled out of her. She fell back, gasping, bracing herself on her arms. The position made her thrust her breasts out at him. He wanted to grab them and suck them into his mouth. Her eyes were fogged and heavy lidded. “You — you — didn’t come…”

“The shower,” he said.

Good hygiene is important in a hero…
So I am not only a man in what is generally perceived as a woman’s business, but also I write in a genre that is considered distinctly icky by readers of swooning Romance: Urban Horror.  It tends to be somber, nourish, and gritty. No glitz. But like the excerpt above, it highlights the connection between fear and sex, which is a lot more significant than most people seem to think.
This excerpt from “Shadows in the City” (http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1173) is very much in that vein:

In the shadow of a thick tree under which sat a picnic table she turned to Joe. Her body swayed sensually. “Watch me strip. Watch me expose my body for your pleasure.”

She untied the tails of her blouse and let it fall to the ground. Her full, round tits heaved seductively. Her slacks dropped in a pool at her feet, revealing a next-to-nothing thong. She slipped the thong down over her shapely hips and stepped out of it.

She continued moving to an inner rhythm, caressing her body with her hands, swaying and writhing in place as though she had no spine. “Take my body. Use it for your pleasure. Please. I am so hungry for your cock. Please.”

Horn started to speak, but found his mind focused on her hypnotically alluring body. He dropped his jacket and peeled off his shirt.

“Take me like that, Joe. Make me feel your rough clothes and your rough hands. Fuck me like I’m your slave.”

He unzipped and pulled out his hard cock. She stroked it hard with both hands. “Take me! Show me the darkness!”

He gritted his teeth against the power of her sex, but his hands grasped her muscular ass and he drove her back against the table.

She grinned as he pushed her backward, laying her out on her back. As she spread her legs wide, she guided his cock into her cunt. Her moans made him shiver as he thrust hard into her.

She guided his hands to her tits. “Ah, your cock is beautiful! Beautiful! Fuck me hard, Joe! Please! I love a big, hard cock thrusting into me! Take me!”  Her voice jumped an octave as he pumped her powerfully. “Your strength makes me helpless! I’m your slave!”

Her voice hammered his libido. “You’re mine to use. I own your body. You want to see the darkness? You want the darkness?” He felt himself tipping over the edge, toward something or some place he never wanted to be or see.

“Yes!” she cried. “I want the darkness! Give it to me!”

Fog swirled around them.

Jasmine came hard, letting go a sharp wail of pleasure. “Yes! Yes!” Her body bounced hard on the table. “More! Fuck me more!”

Her sensual voice clawed at his soul. He bared his teeth and hissed, “Then let the darkness take you!” and did something he never understood. He coiled his power within himself and sent it into her like a lance, penetrating her own soul, piercing her libido, the center of all her fears, and in so doing releasing something.

Power. Pleasure. Terror.

She screamed.

The darkness answered. Horn heard something coming.

“They come!” she gasped. “They come to take me!”

Horn tried to stop but could not. Her power held him, made him continue pumping his cock into her. His pleasure built and built. He groaned. He knew what was coming, and his fear began to equal his pleasure but then his pleasure increased again as she came, shrieking her surrender to him and to the darkness she seemed to crave.

“I am your slave! Take me! Fuck me!”

The fog swirled around them as dense as it had been before. Horn heard things moving just out of sight, moving closer, reaching for him.

His cock felt huge. He pumped harder as the pleasure became insupportable. With a savage snarl he came, pumping and pumping until he knew he had to be empty, and yet he continued to come, pumping harder still.

Shapes reached for him, and Horn strangled a scream of terror, but kept fucking Jasmine because in doing that he remained alive.

She came again, and her shriek of pleasure pierced the fog and rent the monstrous beings in it like wet tissue. She writhed like a snake, lifting herself off the table again and again as spasms took her body, until she finally held herself suspended, legs wrapped around Horn’s waist, thrusting and thrusting.

She collapsed with a hollow bang on the sweat-slick wood. Horn collapsed on top of her. She held him tightly, gasping for breath. His hard hands trembled as they wandered over her body. She moaned and continued to move under him, unable to completely halt her sensual rhythm. “I want more of you. I want more of you,” she whispered. “I want to be yours.”

He stood up, fumbling with his clothes like an old man. Gradually he regained control.

So close. So close.

I tend to write from the male viewpoint, of course, and I guess women might find that off-putting or enlightening, take your pick. That has to be the chief difference between my style and most women. I do know how men think, you know…
But for all the differences in my style, my hero is always a strong, honest, honorable, and deeply compassionate hunk, because I like that kind of character. He’s also a bit sinister, especially when it comes to sex, and this is spice in the sauce. My heroines are smart, classy, strong, voluptuous (oh, yes), and know what they want (check out Samantha, the heroine of ”The Thing in the Basement”; she’s almost comical in her assertive submission).
In the end, nothing I write is very much different than what women write, just, well, male. To quote Maurice Chevalier, “There is basically very little difference between men and women. But, Vive la difference!”

Jonathan Wright is the brooding yet likeable alpha male of the Changeling Press stable of authors and can be reached at jonathanwright@changelingpress.com.

Writing Romance… From A Male Perspective

When Selena came to me with this blog post idea, I jumped all over it. I just had no clue what to write. Then it occurred to me that I have a unique perspective on the romance writing business when it comes to gender. It’s no secret that I’m transgendered (female to male), and I’m not the only one out there. Not everyone is open about it like I am, and that’s fine. But what it does is give me (and the rest of us) a different viewpoint. I can’t speak for others, but I can tell you what I’ve been through and noticed.

I started writing romance before I decided to transition. While my brain has always been male, I tried to ignore that and just set about being… me. Hence I took the name Kay Derwydd. (Kay from Arthurian legend, Derwydd being Welsh for Druid.) Back then, I used primarily female pronouns, but I’d answer to either. It wasn’t until a few years ago that I realized I couldn’t hide from myself anymore, and I made the decision to transition.

Being on both sides of the coin, so to speak, has helped to hone my writing. My brain is male, and I still write like that. In fact, as more time goes on, the stronger that gets. But I also learned to write as a woman–and believe me, coming from a porn-writing background, that was a feat for me to learn.

The biggest misconceptions regarding author gender tend to revolve around language and the amount of sex vs. the amount of emotion. I try my best to balance both sex and emotion, but it irks me when I see folks saying that men can’t write romance from an emotional perspective, or that women can’t write believable men (and/or gay sex). Part of being an author is using your imagination, yes; but another major aspect to it is knowing how to research. (And no, I don’t mean just watching/reading gay porn.) Asking around, reading (and yes, there are manuals and how-to books out there for gay sex), etc.–those are all invaluable to an author. Just as researching vampire lore, time periods, technology, etc. are when writing about those subjects.

Men DO indeed feel and think with something besides their libido, and women can be just as sex-driven as a hot-blooded male. It might be a learning curve to write what you don’t have experience with personally, but that’s part of the joy of writing.

Mychael Black

http://www.mychaelblack.net/

http://mychael-black2.livejournal.com/

Hi Everyone!

My interview for Authors After Dark is live, check it out here: http://www.blogtalkradio.com/BooksBeyondtheBoundaries/2009/09/24/Books-Beyond-the-Boundaries-AAD-Authors-Selena-Illyria

Now as for Authors After Dark, I’m putting together a large prize bag, the contents have to be cataloged first but I can tell you I’m giving away a purse/make-up bag filled with Ulta make-up.

The Reader Survey Contest winner will be announced on the 30th.

Now for my New Release:

Last Call Europe: Chocolate Shock, Out Now at Changeling Press!

Blurb:

All romanced out, Love Fairy Alastrina is tired of putting together happy couples. All she wants is a little bit of “me time” to forget her job for one night. She strides into Last Call: London looking for some action.

Chocolate Shock: Heat packed sexin’ — no baggage required or desired.

Rebellious leopard shifter Garrison Fredricks may be the answer to all her needs. Some sexy talk and a bit of action is just what the love fairy ordered. Only problem is he has a teensy-weensy little secret that may piss her off. And a Love Fairy pissed off is not a good thing.

Buy Link:

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1237

Excerpt:

Last Call Europe: Chocolate Shock
Selena Illyria
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2009 Selena Illyria

This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

Garrison’s beer arrived. He took a pull from it and slouched in his seat, still bored, still restless. The door opened and out of habit he glanced toward the entrance, only to have his breath catch in his throat. His heart skipped a beat and then sped up. Warmth flowed over him as his body tightened. His cock hardened and pressed against his jeans.

“Oh, fuck me,” he groaned, as he watched the woman in the tightest jeans he had ever seen stroll into the bar and wind her way gracefully through the crowd. She had a corset that showcased her high breasts and a small waist. Her ass made him want to bite his bottom lip to hold back the moan threatening to escape.

She was a tiny thing with riotous dark brown curls streaked with pink. When she turned around, he saw her face. Her features were delicate with a small pert nose. Her lips were full and tempting, slicked with shimmering pale pink gloss.

Blow job lips, he thought, and he wanted those lips on him, covering his body in sweet love bites before she sucked him off ’til he shot his load down her throat. His cock jumped as the fire burning within him became an inferno lapping at his veins.

His leopard scratched at the flesh bars of its prison, wanting to go up to the woman it desired and mark her with its scent. She made things worse by turning back toward the bar, giving him another glimpse of her perfectly rounded ass. The corset left a wide strip of skin exposed above the waistband. Her perfect mocha skin was adorned with a colorful tattoo done in glittering pink ink. He had to strain his eyes to make out the glyphs and symbols on her lower back.

“Lean over some more, love. Give daddy a good look at what it says,” he urged softly. As if she heard him, she stuck her ass out further and he sucked in a breath as his pulse pounded in his ears and need roared through him. He had to shake his head to clear the lust wrapping around his mind like a gossamer web.

He squinted to see better and read the tattoo.

“Fairy Alastrina, daughter of Elan, servant of Labhaoise.” He stroked his chin, his fingers slightly burned from the abrasion of his stubble. Half of his brain saw opportunity to bring a genuine Fairy to Eros, and the other half wanted to fuck the living daylights out of her.

“Alastrina.” He tested her name on his tongue. The sound of his voice came out husky with the edge of a purr. An image rose of him pounding into her pussy as she cried out in ecstasy before he came himself, spurting his seed deep inside of her as he called out her name, and he swore. Their sweat-slicked bodies moved and ground against one another as they started yet another round.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chanted. This was not what he needed. Tomorrow he would be going to see Eros. A meeting with him was draining. The love god liked to pick and poke at Garrison’s mental shields. It was a game of chicken because Garrison would be doing the same. Five hundred years of servitude to Eros had taught him all of the god’s weaknesses but no way to exploit them, although Eros knew all of Garrison’s weaknesses and abused them every opportunity he got.

One of his weaknesses was standing a few feet away. This night was either gonna be hell or heaven. He wouldn’t put it past Eros to send him a sexy little gift in the form of this Fairy. Whether it was a trap or not, he was going to fall into bed with her. The question was how. There were others who had noticed her arrival. One of the bolder admirers strode up to her. Before he could even open his mouth he was shot down and sent on his way, a deep red flush of embarrassment on his cheeks for his trouble.

“Mmmm, sassy, I like that.” Garrison sat back and watched as, one by one, men and even a few women went up to curry her favor. After the fourth person was sent away he couldn’t help but wonder why they all wanted a piece of her. She was gorgeous but there had to be something else. He decided to test a theory.

With great concentration he dropped his mental shields a sliver and tasted her power. It was like the sweetest, thickest honey. There was a hint of spice, an indefinable quality that made its potency richer, more seductive to the palate. Power rolled off of her in waves.

Understanding dawned on him all at once; she was a Love Fairy. Legend had it that to be touched or even come in contact with one could bring you good luck in the love department. They weren’t hitting on her. They were asking for her services. He felt bad for them but most of all he felt sad for her. Must be tough never being off the clock to some people. Then again, he could understand how she felt. He was at Eros’ call night and day. Didn’t matter where he was, who he was with or what he was doing, if Eros summoned him Garrison had to go.

As he studied the woman, his desire burned through him. Instead of doing his usual saunter up and try his luck routine, he decided to wait and see what developed. If he played his cards right, there would be no need for him to do anything.

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1237

Lonely No More, Out Now at Liquid Silver Books!

Blurb:
Five years ago on Halloween, author William Moore carelessly broke up with a witch. Needless to say, she didn’t take it well. Cursed to a lonely non-life as a ghost, trapped in his own home, he never expected to do more than exist in the world his ex had created. Except now he’s got a new roommate in the form of fellow author, Alyssa Washington, and he doesn’t anticipate his strong attraction to her. As their simmering emotion sparks life within, he yearns to become mortal once again.

Can his newfound feelings give him what he wishes for most?

Buy Link:
http://www.king-cart.com/cgi-bin/cart.cgi?store=linda018&product_name=Lonely+No+More&return_page=&user-id=&password=&exchange=&exact_match=exact

Excerpt:
William leaned against the door of his study and blew out a breath. He closed his eyes and an image of the petite woman sitting on the stairs formed in his mind. When he first saw her walk up with her friend, he had noticed her immediately. While her friend wore a sleek, figure-hugging suit, she wore jeans and an oversized sweat shirt that hid her curves. Black strands of hair slipped from the messy bun atop her head. Not a stitch of makeup decorated her mocha face. Next to her friend she appeared plain, frumpy almost.
He saw no life in her until she walked into his library. Her large brown eyes rounded, light and life flooding them for the first time. He’d watched, enthralled, as she leisurely circled around to take in the whole room. Then he became aroused by the hunger he saw in her eyes. He knew she wanted to start taking books off the shelves, curl up on the couch and read them. For some reason he wanted her to see him like that. It had been so long since a woman even glanced his way with hunger in her eyes.
Over the years he’d had his share of women, but for the first time in his life he wanted to pursue a woman instead of it being the other way around. He should have known better than to date a witch, but had wanted to be with her to learn more about her kind and scratch the sexual itch. It had nothing to do with romance. Now he was paying the price for his callousness.
His reasons had nothing to do with not wanting to be seen in public with her. He simply refused to do anything that she could perceive as him wanting a relationship. She assumed he had had an unusual attachment to his house. He never dissuaded her of her ideas, which was probably why she thought he should be cursed to roam this house and the surrounding property until he found true love, whatever that was. He doubted he would ever fall in love.
He phased through the floor until he was before her. He watched her stand and walk toward the door, open it and close it behind her. He smiled and floated toward a nearby window. Pulling the curtain back, he watched her talk to her friend before they both left. Getting into a car parked in the driveway, they drove off.
“She’s interesting,” a voice said behind him.
Swearing, he whirled around to find his brother behind him. “Damn it, Deacon, don’t do that. I’m guessing you went around the back and used the door in the kitchen so the women wouldn’t see you?” William became solid, his feet drifting toward the ground until they both touched the wooden floor. Deacon wore black suit pants, a black silk shirt and black loafers, his long red hair pulled back into a ponytail. Deacon Moore looked every inch the businessman and heir of the Moore banking empire that he was. Shoeless, William wore worn jeans, a black button-up cotton shirt, the top two buttons undone, his long red hair hung loose, down to his waist.
Deacon shrugged, and headed toward the kitchen. One big bag of groceries sat on a counter. Floating toward his brother, William thought about the woman who would soon own the house. He didn’t want a roommate but knew the house couldn’t continue to go unoccupied. Deacon had told him their father refused to keep it in the family. The only other option had been selling it. As loathe as he had been to allow that, William went along with the plan.
“So, have you tracked down Irena yet?” William asked, hoping he would finally be rid of the curse.
“Nope, she’s disappeared completely. Don’t worry, we’ll find her eventually, and reverse whatever this is.”
“I know you will because you’ve never let me down, not once.”
Deacon gave him a rare smile.
William felt sad for his brother. Deacon had never done anything wrong, not in his whole life. William had always been the screwup and liked it that way. He hated growing up in a house that felt more like a mausoleum than a home. There were rules for everything and perfection was a requirement. William could never live like that, so at fifteen he left home. He moved in with his uncle and from there things went up. He got his first book deal at seventeen and had a best seller by nineteen. He juggled college and writing, and still managed to graduate at age twenty.
He had worked very hard for everything he got, and enjoyed life to the fullest. Now, at thirty-seven, life wasn’t as fun as it used to be. He spent most of his time keeping kids from destroying his property and keeping people from buying the house. He still managed to write, and with his brother’s help, by Deacon passing off all his manuscripts as being found in storage, he continued to get published, but life for him lacked something.
His thoughts drifted to the woman who was determined to buy the house. His brother puttered around the kitchen making dinner for himself while William thought about the current changes in his life.
Then something occurred to him. “Shit.”
Deacon whirled around. “What?”
“How the hell am I going to live with her when I’m like this? Do I remain invisible the whole time or do I do the intermittent corporeal thing sometimes?”
Deacon shook his head and went back to cooking.
With a thought, William pulled a chair out from under the kitchen table and sat down. “And another thing, how’s my body doing?”
“Just lying there, nothing rotting off, no smell. It’s like you’re asleep, only no breathing or vitals.”
After the initial shock of seeing his body on the bed, it took William some time to figure out what had happened. He hadn’t seen any white lights, fire or anything for that matter. It felt as if he had fallen into a dreamless sleep and awakened like any other person. The only difference, his spirit had been separated from his body and he was see-through and able to phase through objects. After trying many things, it took him three days to learn how to become corporeal, although he couldn’t hold that form for long. At that time, Deacon had been in the house cataloguing all of William’s worldly possessions, including the unfinished manuscript William had been working on before he “died.” Deacon had been so shocked to see his brother standing before him that he’d fainted. Once Deacon had come to, William calmly explained things. At first Deacon had been hard to convince, but after mentioning Irena and the spell, things began to make sense and Deacon moved quickly to make sure that William’s body wouldn’t be destroyed.
The brothers felt that Irena hadn’t killed William, but had performed some sort of botched spell that caused William’s current situation. While Deacon searched for Irena, who had just vanished, William went about continuing to write. Five years later, William’s life had some semblance of calm.
Now he wanted to allow someone to share the house with him, the only problem was how to live with her in his current condition. “Could you do me a favor and find out what you can about the woman moving in?”
“Sure.”
“Also, why the hell is Dad selling my house for a measly seventy thousand dollars?” William’s eyebrow rose in question.
“Because he didn’t want to give it away for free, and Mom insisted he put a price on the house. You know Dad wants nothing to do with anything involving you. He thought seventy thousand dollars was a reasonable price for your house, everything in it and the land it sits on.”
“So good to know I’m loved,” William said dryly.
“Hey, at least he hasn’t taken your portrait down from the sitting room.”
“Goody, I feel so loved now. How’s Maggie?”
“Well, aren’t you the chatterbox today. Maggie is fine, enjoying her European vacation, all expenses paid, of course.”
“Of course.” William nodded.
“So what’s up? What’s with all the questions all of sudden? Normally we talk about your latest masterpiece, business, and my lack of a love life while eating, and then we part ways.”
William shrugged. He didn’t know why he wanted to know all these things. Normally, he had no interest in anything but himself. If he were honest, his encounter with the woman earlier left him craving some sort of human contact; a reintroduction to being a social creature, if you will. He had sensed the same loneliness in her that had gnawed at him his whole life. If it weren’t for Deacon he would truly be alone. “I don’t know. Something about that woman calls to me,” William said softly.
“How so?”
“I guess I see a bit of my loneliness in her. Things have become so monotonous. Write, scare people, write some more, not eat dinner with you, then go back to write or watch TV. That’s my day in a nutshell. The days just blend together. She’s like me, at least, I think she’s like me.”
“You like her,” Deacon teased.
“I never said that,” William said defensively.
“You’re attracted to her.”
William crossed his arms over his chest. “I am not.”
“Look at you. You’re attracted to her and acting like you’re five.” Deacon laughed.
“I don’t even know her and I’m not acting like I’m five.”
“Yeah, but you said she calls to you,” Deacon teased again.
“Shut up. So how are things in the banking world?” William asked, trying to change the subject.
“Same as they were the last time you asked. So, what are you working on?”
“I’m struggling. I need a sounding board. I’m not sure how this book is going. I like the storyline but it’s very different from what I usually write.”
“Do you want me to read it? I could read it but I’m not sure if I could help,” Deacon pointed out.
“Thanks, but I know you’re busy. Sometimes, I read it over and I start thinking the premise is horrible. That maybe it reads like porn,” William said, disgusted.
“Maybe this woman came at the right time. Maybe she’ll give you some of the insight you need.”
“I don’t know. I have to figure out how to interact with her first.”
Deacon shrugged. “Very true.”
William sighed. “I’m going back up to work on the story some more. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“And I’ll clean up. Good luck with the book.”
“Thanks.” William pushed back his chair and walked away.
Six hours and many starts and stops later, William gave up. He just wasn’t sure what he was doing or if it was any good. He went to his bedroom, shut the door, undressed, got into bed and flicked on the TV. He zoned out after five minutes, his thoughts drifting to his soon-to-be roommate. Deacon’s words echoed around his head. Could it be? Can she help me?
http://www.king-cart.com/cgi-bin/cart.cgi?store=linda018&product_name=Lonely+No+More&return_page=&user-id=&password=&exchange=&exact_match=exact

Hi Everyone!

How are you? Sorry there haven’t been any updates. I’ve been very lax on the updates and blogging. I hope you did enjoy the weeks of guest blogging. I plan on doing more. I’m trying to decide what to do for September. I’m not sure whether to go with sci-fi or shifter as a theme. I know I October I’ll be doing an Urban Fantasy theme. . I already have a few people lined up for that week. Just have to find a few more. .  I hope to be blogging more, just have to figure out what to say. Lol

Right now I’m doing edits for my contribution to the Last Call Europe series. . I also just turned in a story for a series I did with Celia Kyle and Michelle Hasker, hopefully I’ll have more news about that soon. I’m working on the next Tartan book, Tartan Seduction. I’m not sure if I’ll be keeping that title as the story has evolved from the first time I thought of it. After that I plan on doing my contribution to the Sex and Chocolate series and Hades Helmet: Deception, the second part to Carnevale.

Then I have a few more stories on my plate that are percolating in my mind. *Grin* A sci-fi one to be particular. I’m really feeling the sci-fi genre at the moment which is really exciting to me. I can’t wait to write more stories in that genre. I’m also looking into cyberpunk and a bit more fantasy.

That’s pretty much about it on the writing front. On a personal front, I’ve been sick since Saturday so I’ve been slowed down on the writing front which is really frustration. Although I do need to get rest. Which in a way is a plus. I finally managed to see The Watchmen which I loved. The changes that were made didn’t jar me which was good. I also finished watching the Escaflowne anime series which was good, now if only I could get the chant out of my head. LOL

I plan on watching Taken and starting the Battlestar Galatica series. I didn’t really watch it when it was on, so now I have time to see it. I can’t wait to get my hands on Season 4 of Supernatural and watch all the episodes I missed.

On the reading front I got to read The Path of Razors which is a brilliant edition to the Vampire Babylon series. I highly recommend it. It makes me want to go explore the London that is painted in the books. (P.S. Check out Chris/Crystal’s newly designed site. Gorgeous!)

I also read Dreamfever by Karen Marie Moning and it was brilliant. I’m on pins and needles for the final installment to the series. I have so many ideas rolling around in my head. I just want to read the series again.

Has anyone seen District 9? I haven’t seen it. I’m one of those people, that although the quality is better in the theater, likes to wait until DVD gives me a chance to pause when I want and I don’t have to deal with people texting, possible cell phone interruptions, etc… That and I’m lazy. LOL. I’m sooo looking forward to this on DVD. I’ve heard mixed reviews but I trust the people who tell me it’s a great movie.

Speaking of DVDs. I’m thinking that this year’s Christmas giveaway should be a few of my DVD series. I gave away the first season of Chuck for my Birthday Bash. Sooo, how about the first year of Eureka (if you’re not watching, I have to ask whhhhhyyy? Lol), Leverage, The Closer, Supernatural and maybe something else. Not sure, maybe Being Human?

Has anyone seen Leverage? I highly recommend this show, brilliant cast.

Moving on. Here are few Se recommends since I’m running out of steam here. I hate being sick. When I want sleep I can’t get it and when I don’t want to sleep because I want  to write I have to. Blech. Okay, here we go:

Se recommends:

eBooks:

The Mate Marks Series by Kate Hill:

Hunger

Thirst

Breath

Pulse (Coming Soon)

Se says: SEXY! I want more please! Moooooore! LOL

The Screen Shots Series by Willa Okati:

Seduced

Smolder

Slinky (Coming Soon)

Submissive (Coming Soon)

Se says: HOT! *Fangirl squee* I just have to say and don’t tell my editors and publishers but, um, if these boys were real and that website had…okay, let’s just say I wouldn’t be getting any writing done. I’d be too busy drooling. LOL (www.twentysomethingtwinks.com)

On my eBook TBR pile:

The Empire Series by Cat Marsters

Eve of Destruction by Lizzie Lynn Lee

Masters of the Shadowlands series by Cherise Sinclair

Anyone But You by Amarinda Jones

Captured Rapture by Lexxie Couper

Finding Her Rhythm by Ciana Stone

Mari Carr (I have a few books from her on the pile so I figured I’d throw her on there, lol)

TV:

Being Human (BBC America)

So You Think You Can Dance (Coming Back to Fox 9/2/09)

Leverage (TNT)

Psych (USA Network)

Naruto

Websites:

P.L. Nunn Bishonen Works (I blame Jet Mykles for this. LOL. Warning adult content)

Se Note: The artwork is gorgeous and very inspiring. Hehe. I even found a print that inspired a new character for me. *Grin*

Ann Vremont (Her artwork is amazing. )*Fangirl Squee*

iStock.com (I can lose hours on there just looking for pics for inspiration or cover ideas)

Author’s Gal Friday.com (From one of my partners in crime Celia Kyle)

Music (The links are to You Tube videos):

Kevin Rudolf: Let it Rock

Breaking Benjamin: I Will Not Bow

Slipknot: Sulfur

Melody Gardot:  Baby I’m a Fool

Susie Suh: All I Want

Other odds and ends:

I’m thinking of another redesign for my website. I know, I know, another one? Not that I don’t adore the current one. For some reason I just want  a different look. The girl in the mask stays but the colors may change. That will be it. I’m thinking Burgundy or maybe blue. Not sure. Also, do you guys think if I start groveling now, my editors will buy my World Cup Fever excuse for not being able to write or edit for two months? I know it’s in June of 2010 but come on, how can a girl concentrate when all that hotness is there? Have you seen Fabio Canevarro? Just look at him and tell me you won’t get distracted.

‘Scuse me I have to go find ice.

Se

P.S. Changeling just contracted another book. More on that in a bit.