Posts Tagged ‘Guest Blogger’
A brand new wolf-shifter series debuts today from Siren-Bookstrand and Natalie Acres
Dominant Wolves, Submissive Mates-Book One
Historical~BDSM~ Paranormal~ Ménage a Trois Romance~Werewolves
Spanking~ wax play~sex toys from a bygone era~bondage
Visit Natalie Acres at Siren Bookstrand: http://www.bookstrand.com/
Two pack masters discover an unyielding love in one woman by altering customs and forming new traditions destined to change the Wyoming Territory forever. Imprinting upon and sharing a lover, the Alphas realize their packs must join together, but they will face great opposition when their chosen mate is confronted with a wrenching decision.
Pack masters Frank Smith and Jock Corrigan aren’t enemies, but they aren’t exactly friends. Still, their similar fates have been altered by an unusual union they cannot deny. Their relationship with Carla Cassidy forces several wolves to make their independent choices. One will stand with the newly formed pack, but another will fall victim to his own selfish needs and motives. A group of new shifters will emerge and change the course of history, but not before the expanding pack’s goals are tested and tried.
“What are you doing here?” Carla asked, propping her tiny clenched fists on her hips.
“Far be it for you to show a little appreciation,” Jock said, studying the spitfire of a woman before them. Wearing a light blue prairie dress, Carla apparently hadn’t stopped to check out the torn fabric and soiled material.
“You were attacked by a pack of wolves. I arrived in time to run them off.” Jock stood a tad taller with his announcement. Most women appreciated heroic efforts.
She paled then as he spoke. She looked down at the evidence of a ruined dress and her hands twitched.
“How did this happen?” Carla asked, suggesting her memory had failed her.
“You must’ve had a nasty bump on the head if you don’t remember,” Grant told her.
She held the heel of her hand to her forehead. “Everything is a bit foggy.”
“Well, don’t you fret none, Carla. We took care of ya.” Grant shot Jock a quick glance. “Yep, siree. Me and Jock here handled everything.”
Jock was beginning to think whenever there was a “yep, siree,” added to Grant’s speech it was nothing more than a bald-faced tale.
“Do you remember going to the barn?” Jock asked.
Carla took a minute before she answered. As if she suddenly recalled something of interest, her cheeks turned pink and she said, “I may have already been in the barn.”
Grant shot her a wink and a lopsided nod. “That was my best estimation, too.”
“Dear God,” Jock grumbled, beginning to believe Grant must’ve considered himself the most intelligent man in the West.
“Here’s how I figure things went down. Those wolves heard a lot of activity, maybe even some squealin’ and carryin’ on comin’ from the barn…” He paused and arched a brow. “How am I doin’ so far?”
Carla stared at him with this perplexed look which made Jock wonder all the more. Had Grant really watched Carla in action with these wicked props he’d mentioned?
“That’s all right, sweetness. Don’t worry ’bout a reply. I can make heads and tails out of this. Anyhow, you were in the barn doin’ whatever it is that you do out there–in the loft–and well, what I came up with after a-prowlin’ around is that you were makin’ a little too much noise.” He stood taller and his lips spread into a mischievous smile. Leaning against Jock, he added a whisper, “How’d I do? Did ya like that?”
Jock studied the pretty lady. “Carla? How close was Grant’s guess?”
“What sort of squealing?” Carla arched a brow and watched them through suspicious eyes.
Grant shrugged. “That voice of yours is as fine as cream gravy when you go to hollerin’ and such.”
“Grant,” Jock muttered, giving his buddy a one-word warning he would inevitably ignore.
Copping a strut, Grant approached the porch, working what little swagger he possessed. “Come on, Carla. You know what I mean. You can’t kick up a row and expect no one to hear ya. I ain’t been a man for all these years for nothin’. I can spot an experienced woman.” He cupped his ear, slung his arm off to the left, and quickly added, “And I can hear one from way over yonder.”
Before Jock had a chance to smooth things over, a disgusted gasp fell from Carla’s mouth. “Well I’ve never in my life.”
“Me neither,” Grant admitted. “But after what I’ve witnessed, I’d be the first man to say you are a soiled dove to the manner born. And I’d be the first to mention yer geared up to teach even an experienced fella a thing or two.”
Carla’s eyes filled with tears. Before Jock saw the slap coming, she opened her hand and her palm connected with Grant’s cheek.
“I don’t know who you think you are, Grant Ford, but if you’re trying to make a mash on me, I can promise you, I’m not impressed!”
Grant stared back at her with wide eyes. “Surely to God you ain’t offended.”
“I am indeed!”
And of course after that, Miss Carla Cassidy did what Jock suspected she might. She walked inside, slammed the door in their faces, and never so much as bothered to say good-bye.
“Happy now?” Jock asked, without blinking an eye.
“I like ’em a little hot under the collar. Trust me, friend. I know what I’m doin’. Let’s go for a run. When we get back, she’ll be fit to be tied–and I mean that in the literal sense.”
Jock couldn’t help but think about Grant’s earlier words. One of these days, Carla would open the door and greet her husband. Considering what had transpired, Jock had a feeling she’d slam that door just as quickly if she thought her potential suitor was named Grant Ford.
Copyright ©2013 Natalie Acres
Visit Natalie Acres at Siren Bookstrand for an adult M/F/M excerpt: http://www.bookstrand.com/
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Tie Me Up, Please!
By Vonna Harpe
Welcome to my world, a kinky, great fun world IMO! Here’s a poorly-kept secret. I love writing bondage/capture stories. Its my fantasy, where I go in my mind when the world gets heavy or simply for fun.
For those who think I’m blowing smoke, here’s an example from my recent Loose Id release Brought Down.
“Yes, my captive, yes. Right now, you don’t believe me. I don’t blame you.” His expression sobered. “You believe the only way I can get you to cooperate is by force, but force breaks the spirit.”
The whole time he’d been talking, his rough fingers had tightened and relaxed, tightened and relaxed, sending strange sensations throughout her lower leg. There was nothing forceful in what he was doing, and his grip was far from painful. To her shock, she regretted it when he stopped.
“A woman’s body is quick to heat,” he went on. Releasing her shin, he pressed the heel of his hand against the side of her calf. “Just as a wolf answers to his belly’s needs, a woman heeds her sex.”
What had he said? If not for those words, surely her attention wouldn’t have turned to what lay hidden between her legs. No longer just pressing on her calf, his hand now moved back and forth. Even more disconcerting, he’d started lightly raking his nails over her knee. The touch put her in mind of a bird’s wing.
No, not a bird’s wing.
She couldn’t get away. Struggling would serve no purpose. As he continued his unexpectedly gentle exploration, she relaxed a little. She should fear this man with the thick, rich black hair that brushed the tops of his shoulders and bushy eyebrows. Unlike some men who wore beards, he’d taken a knife to his cheeks and chin, but not for the past few days. The shading added to his wild appearance.
“I didn’t think your flesh would be this soft,” he muttered. “It should be rough from the wind.”
His uncertain tone pulled her back from her study of his appearance. For the first time, she noted curiosity in his eyes and wondered if today was as much a journey for him as for her. Yet the differences were telling. He was in control of his journey, while she had no say. He’d captured her simply because he could.
Sighing, he changed from a crouch to kneeling. Once settled, he ran his hand along her thigh. Both dreading and anticipating what was going to happen, Kahsha breathed through every inch of the journey. He could be cruel yet wasn’t. Could draw blood but hadn’t. Instead he studied her while slowly, so slowly, guiding his hand to the inside of her thigh. Her dress barely covered her crotch, yet he didn’t take advantage.
“You can’t want this,” he muttered. Leaning forward, he exhaled his warm breath on her leg. “You hate everything I’m doing.” He sighed. “At the same time, you want to know what’s going to happen. That will make you tremble, and in the trembling, you’ll give up pieces of yourself. Hand your body over to me.”
He was right about the shivering. To her disbelief, insisting she wanted nothing to do with what he was doing would be a lie. Surely it would be different once she fully recovered from whatever he’d injected her with.
Ah, that was it; there was still poison in her system. Nothing to do with wondering what his fingers on her core would feel like.
Maybe he’d tapped into her thoughts, because after patting her knee, he slid his hand between her legs. It’s going to happen, his deep eyes said.
“Time,” he muttered, “to begin.”
Barely believing what was happening, she stared at his forearm and what she now could see of his wrist. The upward march fascinated her so that she couldn’t concentrate on remaining erect. His rough skin burned hers. She tried squeezing her thighs together, only to sob and let go when her muscles threatened to cramp.
He was saying something in a language she’d heard a few times but understood nothing of. Only the tone, soft and low, mattered. Perhaps what he was saying had nothing to do with her, but maybe he was detailing everything he had planned for her.
Anyone except me hot and bothered now? What’s truly amazing to me is that before I dove into the world of writing erotica, I kept my fantasies under wraps. Why? Because of my upbringing. Let me explain.
In purely psychological terms, Freud was a nut. In 1908, he declared that, “a happy person never fantasizes, only a dissatisfied one.”
Fortunately, a great deal has changed since those uninformed days with such experts as psychologists Harold Leitenberg and Kris Henning doing extensive studies on peoples’ sexual fantasies. Their conclusion: only about 5% of people don’t dream up sexy romps. In fact, it’s now considered pathological not to have such fantasies.
Whew! Good news for me because my erotica banks on readers’ need and desire for the aforementioned. But it isn’t enough for an erotica writer to simply open the bedroom door wide and call a pussy a pussy. There has to be a reason for the pussy to get into the act, like a plot to go with the sex. Many times I decorate my plot around bondage.
Good choice because psychiatrist Ethel Person of Columbia University reports that 51 percent of women imagine being forced to have sex and another third get off on pretending to be a slave who must obey a man’s every wish. Yep, I’m in good company, something I didn’t know back when the muse (or my carnal imagination) compelled me to write my first Ellora’s Cave capture story, Forced. http://www.jasminejade.com/pm-5333-77-forced.aspx (Ask me how much I dig the cover)
In it, a downsized lady cop gets pegged to go undercover to expose a slavery ring. Unfortunately—or fortunately—the first step calls for her being taught what it’s like to be a sex slave. With every like-themed book, I kick up my own fantasies another notch and judging by reader reaction, I’m on the right track.
So why do scenes full of ropes and chains touch so many people’s hot buttons? For the answer, I went back to the shrinks. According to Leitenberg and Henning, “Women who find submission fantasies sexually arousing are very clear that they have no wise to be raped in reality. In their fantasies, women control every aspect of what happens.” According to the article, “Power, Desire, and Pleasure in Sexual Fantasies” by Eileen Zurbriggen in the Aug, 2004 Journal of Sex Research, women who fanaticize about submission have a more positive attitude about sex and are less sexually guilty and more open to a variety of sexual experiences. Female submissive fantasies may be one aspect of an open, positive, guilt-free sexuality.
Why is that? Blame or credit the brain. The brain is as potent a sexual organ as the genitalia. As a result, our imagination allows us to safely explore our sexuality without waiting for Mr. Right or Wrong. No one is going to judge and criticize our thoughts. We can let them run wild—or handcuff and hog-tie them if we so choose.
I’ll choose the handcuffs, thank you very much. And throw in a blindfold and dildo for my helpless, writhing, and over-the-top excited female captive while I’m at it. And, most important, add one (or more) male hunk who can’t keep his hands off her helpless body because real women get off on being desired. As Leitenberg and Henning put it, “Women tend to envision something being done to them and to concentrate more on their partner’s interest in her.”
In his Psychology Today article, “The Safest Sex—Sexual Fantasies”, Peter Doskoch maintains that men have Playboy to prime their pumps while women turn to the “cookie-cutter” Harlequin romances which always include an emotional, passionate romance for mental and otherwise stimulation. Well, guess what. Those vanilla romances aren’t enough as witness by Ellora’s Cave’s phenomenal success.
Women readers want and deserve and are now getting more, a hell of a lot more. Their pumps are primed because erotic bondage (and its relatives) include emotion and passion, in spades.
In other words, it’s a short step from book to bed.
Just because, my latest Samhain release, Predator, also touches on capture themes. http://store.samhainpublishing.com/predator-p-6252.html
Arran MacLain is a vampire on a suicide mission, driven to kill his former partner who betrayed him and the Enclave they served. But two things stand in his way: Gabrielle, the human female who holds his heart, and the past that won?t let him go. If only death was enough to cleanse his soul.
Gabrielle Steven?s sister is missing. Her hunt for clues brings her face to face with the one vampire she can?t forget. Their missions combine and thrust them into the heart of evil. Will their passion be enough to overcome the pain from their past, or will their dark desires destroy them both?
Arran rolled his Ninja into the parking lot beside Gabrielle?s car and killed the engine. She?d taken the newsflash about Markus and Marguerite pretty much like he?d expected. She?d mumbled an oath of determination right before she?d kicked him out of the car. Gabrielle wasn?t a member of the Enclave in name only. It didn?t matter that she didn?t work patrol. Gabrielle was as much a warrior as any of the males. Life hadn?t dealt her any favors. And she wasn?t one to lie down and let it bulldoze over her. She stood and fought for every inch of ground gained.
He waited for her to get out of the car, then removed his helmet.
?You didn?t need to follow me home,? she said over her shoulder, heading for the front door of her sister?s townhouse. He was surprised when she?d led him here instead of a hotel. The place must have belonged to her sister. He palmed his keys, slid off his bike, and shoved the keys in his pocket.
?I wasn?t going to let you leave alone after the info I just dumped on you,? he said as he came up behind her while she unlocked the door. ?I wanted to make sure you got home safe. And I wanted to be sure you actually went home.?
?Oh my God, you can be such an ass sometimes.? Her back was to him, but Arran could almost hear her eyes roll with that statement. She was right. He was an ass. But while he was here, he would be taking care of hers.
Gabrielle flipped on the lights, and he followed her inside. The heels of her boots clicked on the hardwood floor of the foyer, echoing in the open stairwell of the two-story apartment. She couldn?t have been in town long, but the air in the place already carried her scent. He pulled in another slow, deep breath through his nostrils. His heart rate quickened. Honeysuckle. Arran wanted to smile but repressed the grin. Ironic that such a delicate and sweet fragrance emanated from the hellcat with whom he?d just been reacquainted.
Her keys clinked as she dropped them in a bowl on a table near the staircase. Arran?s gaze devoured her provocative profile. He?d never seen her dressed like she was tonight. Living with five male vampires within the Enclave walls, she usually dressed a bit more conservatively. Not matronly, but definitely not this revealing. A short black leather skirt barely covered the lush curves of her ass, and a shirt that couldn?t have been more than a decked-out bra did its best to contain her full breasts. Shiny black leather boots wrapped her legs, highlighting the toned sweep of her calves. This couldn?t happen again. Arran slowly shook his head. He would end up killing someone if she dressed like this again.
She turned her head to the side, facing him. ?I don?t need a babysitter. I?m more than capable of taking care of myself.? She shifted and faced him head-on. ?You?ve been gone a long time, Arran. Things have changed. I?ve changed.?
?Maybe so. But you?re not taking on that colony alone. I can?t believe Logan let you come here without him.? Gabrielle turned her back, rearranging her purse on the table. Shit. He recognized the body language. ?You didn?t tell him, did you?? Arran closed the distance between them.
?No. I didn?t need him here.? Gabrielle looked up, fierce determination written on her face. ?I can handle this. Alex needed me. And I?m going to be there for her.? She shifted to face him again, leaning her hip against the table. ?I?m smart enough to know if — and when — I need help.?
Arran closed in, crowding her personal space, wanting a reaction. Aching for it, actually. Gabrielle straightened and took one step back but stopped and lifted her chin, refusing to cower and give him the reaction he itched for. She caught on quick.
?You think you have it all handled, lass??
?Yeah, I do.?
?You got it all under control??
The amber color of her irises had grown near molten. He allowed a small smile to pull at the corner of his mouth, loving the way she got all hot and bothered when he pushed her.
?Yes. I do.? The words had barely left her lips when she attacked, one leg coming out to catch the back of his ankle. Caught off guard, he stumbled.
Before he could regain his balance, she had his wrist locked in her grip. Swinging his arm up, she spun underneath, twisted, and wrenched his arm up the middle of his back, then shoved him face-first into the dank-smelling wall.
Well, damn. Not bad. ?You?ve been training,? he mumbled against the Sheetrock.
?A little.? She sounded quite proud of herself. She was good. He?d give her that. But her heavy breathing told him it was all she could do to contain him, and he hadn?t even come close to tapping into his full abilities. She?d caught him by surprise, but she was human, a woman, and no match for a mature vampire. Especially in a multiple attack.
With a burst of speed, Arran pushed back, forcing Gabrielle to release him instead of falling on her rear. He whirled, catching her before she hit the floor. In less than a second, their positions reversed. Except this time, he?d pinned her back against the wall, her hands imprisoned by his, over her head.
The position pushed her full breasts up, almost spilling them from her top. Nice. He lifted his gaze, prepared for a hard glare. If her eyes were molten earlier, they were near boiling now. He couldn?t have stopped the next words that spilled from his lips if he?d tried.
?You ass!? She squirmed and bucked against him like a feral cat. Instead of gaining her freedom, though, each maneuver jammed her tighter into his hold. Her every inhale shoved her breasts into his chest. Heat radiated off her body, threatening to scramble his brain. Before he knew he?d even moved, his lips hovered over hers. What made him stop, God only knew. Maybe it was the way she?d suddenly grown still? Or maybe it was the moment she?d parted her lips, releasing warm, peppermint-scented bursts of air that seduced his mind. So damn enticing. All he had to do was lean in one more inch, and he?d —
Fire shot up his arm. ?Son of a?? Releasing her, he jumped back and flung his gaze to the offending limb. Blood.
A thin line of crimson blossomed along the outside of his bicep. She?d played him. Purposefully distracted him, so she could pull her hand free and reach for a blade that must have been hidden under her skirt and against her thigh. The little minx.
He swiveled his head back in Gabrielle?s direction. Air punched from his lungs. Christ. Blood surged to his cock. The overwhelming urge to stroke the rock-hard length at the sight of her was short-circuiting his brain. Gabrielle stood, one boot in front of the other, palming a short dagger. She was ready to fight.
He was ready to fuck.
Arran rocked from one foot to the other, searching within for the strength not to take what was his. Mentally, he shook his head. No. She?s not yours, asshole. But damn if his cock had the sense to listen.
?I know you weren?t about to kiss me, warrior. Were you?? She raised a delicate brow and tilted her head. ?Because last I heard, my kiss was ?forgettable.??
Ouch. He?d had a feeling if he ever saw her again, that asinine comment would come back to bite him in the ass.
?Give me the blade, Gabrielle.?
?This?? She twirled the dagger, then palmed the hilt and held it up for display. ?You want it?? A devious smile lit her face. With her other hand, she beckoned him with her fingers. ?Come and take it.?
Bad, bad challenge, kitten. A tremor started in his gut and worked its way up, until it was a buzz inside his brain. Every cell in his body wanted to take.
A gasp of air in his ear was the only indicator that he?d grabbed her. He didn?t remember the trip. Arran lifted her feet from the floor, whirled, and gently laid her on the stairs, pressing his hips, his chest into hers. He had to get his body next to hers. Everywhere. The dagger fell from her hand, rolling and thumping its way down the steps, each tumble a hollow thud.
The loud percussions bypassed the noise inside his head and brought him to a dead halt. He lay with his hips between her legs, his groin pressed to hers. His mouth suspended above her lips. He dropped his gaze to her mouth. God, how he loved the delicate line of her lips, a perfect bow. So full and pink. Her tongue darted out and moistened the lower one. He couldn?t stifle the groan that rolled from the back of his throat.
He dragged his gaze back to her eyes. Passion mixed with doubt and fear stared back at him. ?I?m sorry.? The whispered words tumbled from his heart.
She blinked, then swallowed. ?Why??
?For hurting you.?
Her eyelids shuttered, and her breath hitched. Did she believe him? Was an apology enough for what he?d done? He?d walked away, leaving her to think he?d never wanted her, when the truth was, he wanted her more than his next breath. Sorry sounded so insignificant, compared to how much damage he?d done to her heart.
?Gabrielle.? Long, dark eyelashes lifted. Beautiful, near gold eyes shimmered with unshed tears. Please don?t cry. If only he had the power to bring her tears of joy. Instead of the pain he was so damn good at. He wanted to kiss the hurt away. ?Remind me.?
Her lips parted first in silence before she asked, ?Of what??
Arran released her arms and cupped her face with his palms. He caressed her lips with his gaze before lifting it back to hers. ?What I walked away from.?
Jessica Lee Bio:
Almost every author?s bio states they?ve been writing since they learned to read. It?s what they?ve always wanted to do. Well, my journey wasn?t so straight and narrow. I?ve been a nurse for over twenty years and hold a bachelor?s degree in Science with a major in Biology. So, as you can see, my career path had originally gone in the opposite direction. I didn?t discover my passion for the craft until after I?d had my son and decided to work part-time.
I?ve always loved to read but had never read a paranormal romance. Then one night at work on break, I began reading Karen Marie Moning?s, Spell of the Highlander. I couldn?t believe what I had been missing, and I immediately feel in love with the genre.
I wanted to write like that. To create a story others could find the same excitement in, as I did, when I read my first sensual paranormal romance.
That?s what I hope you find here. A fabulous escape and wonderful adventure that keeps you coming back for more.
Jessica Lee lives in the southeastern USA with her husband and son. She loves writing, and can?t wait for that quiet time each day when her son is in school and she can get lost in another place and world with the fantastical, sexy creatures in her head.
She?s a member of Romance Writers of America, FF&P, Carolina Romance Writers and Passionate Ink.
One wrong move, and she could be dancing on her grave?
Two years after an injury put her dancing career on hold, Lynnrina Kovaleva is determined to reclaim her place on the stage. On the eve of her comeback production, she takes the edge off her nerves with a one-night stand in the strong arms of celebrity bodyguard Mateo Rivera.
Ex-cop Mateo is celebrating one hell of an anniversary: eight months since he was declared unfit for duty. When a delicate beauty boldly propositions him in a bar, he chooses to lose himself in her body rather than lose his mind to alcohol. This choice comes back to haunt him when he?s hired to protect a prima ballerina who?s been receiving threats.
Despite her shock at seeing him again, Lynn must not allow their intense attraction?or any creepy fan letters?to undermine her performance. Mateo can?t reconcile this coldly focused dancer with the passionate woman who seduced him. Yet he sees fire under the ice, pain hidden by the smooth mask of perfection.
The vivid memory of their entwined bodies wars with the job at hand, but he must keep Lynn safe?regardless of the cost. The most difficult challenge, however, will be keeping his hands to himself.
Warning: Contains jet?s, pli?s, a chilling touch of danger, and the boiling heat of an unwanted attraction that combusts into passionate sex.
She couldn?t handle another day of nerves, of pent-up lust ruining her focus. ?You shouldn?t stay at the studio today.? Somehow a letter from some lunatic made her less nervous than those hard dark eyes.
His eyebrows rose. ?We back to the same game??
?No games.? She forced herself to put down her glass calmly before she slammed it on the counter. The same counter where he?d fucked her from behind, where she?d begged him to go harder. ?I need to focus on the piece and I can?t do that with you watching.? The words kept pouring out even while she tried to get herself to just shut up. ?You?re hot then you?re cold, and I can?t catch my balance. Either it?s personal or business, and you??
?Last night was personal.?
?Don?t freaking interrupt.? Except she didn?t know what else to say now.
?You?re done talking??
?No.? It came out breathy when she wanted to tell him to go to hell. Except his eyes held her a willing captive.
?You should know I barely slept last night.?
She nodded, suddenly nervous.
?You should know I?m not thinking clearly.?
Another nod, because she didn?t have anything to say.
?You should tell me to go.?
?Then go.? She thought she whispered those two words except his mouth was on hers, firm, wild, desperate.
No control this time, no seduction. He kissed her as if he were starved, as if her mouth was salvation.
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I wrote my Vampire Babylon series for a few reasons. I wanted to:
- flesh out a hunter who was kick-ass yet vulnerable.
- have fun with a group of characters (and I do mean the quirky kind) who would serve as a hunting team.
- do a bloody, gritty, neon-on-the-dark-rainy-streets infused mystery.
- create some vamps of a different stripe.
So I started playing around with an idea that fused many of these elements. Since I?m pretty much a storage unit for pop cultural tidbits, I took all of the above, mixed it with a ?Charlie?s Angels? type boss (who?s also a bit of the Phantom of the Opera), resurrected one of the most well-known urban legends of the silver screen (the ghost boy from THREE MEN AND A BABY), and gave it a spin.
Poof?my first Vampire Babylon trilogy was born, stretching awake through (and under) the gothic, noir streets of Los Angeles.
But here was the thing?this story about an erotically charged Hollywood Underground was so big that I knew I wouldn?t be able to tell it all in just one book. So I looked at HARRY POTTER and how J.K. Rowling used a mythology that spanned seven books?stories in which the big bad villain wasn?t put to rest until the very last installment. I looked at the fascination with LOST. And I decided that my story would be best served by using a longer trilogy arc.
It was chancy. Although there?s a central mystery that?s solved by the end of each book, there were mystery, mythology, and character threads that wouldn?t be tied up until the third book. But in NIGHT RISING, MIDNIGHT REIGN, and BREAK OF DAWN, I feel like things did come to a satisfying close?
Until Ace asked me to write another three books.
And I was ready, because I had a yen to explore one of the most haunted cities in the world?London. Also, I had an idea for some vampires who had a lot in common with certain fairy tales. Basically, this second trilogy features what I consider to be the scariest vampires of all?young girls who are lured by an older man making promises to them. Promises he, of course, has no intention of keeping. And, let?s be honest?you never want to tick off a teenaged girl. (I would?ve been the biggest nightmare vampire of all, way back when!)
The first two books, A DROP OF RED (book 4) and THE PATH OF RAZORS (book 5), show you a different underground than the Hollywood one, and the trilogy will be closing out with the third installment, DEEP IN THE WOODS (book 6), on March 2, 2010. I had such fun doing this trilogy?I got to travel to London, where I blocked out scenes in Highgate Cemetery and Southwark. And when you get to research something as interesting as the effect fairy tales have had on society? Icing on the cake.
If you?ve read the previous five books, thank you from the bottom of my arguably dark heart. : ) If you?d like to start, the books are out there just waiting for you to snag them?much like the things that exist under the ground, watching, waiting?wanting.
I?ll be giving away a signed copy of THE PATH OF RAZORS, Vampire Babylon, Book Five, to someone who comments on this blog. Check back tomorrow for the winner!
Chris Marie Green
Hi there! Sylvia Shults here, the author of A Slightly Different Perfect. I?ve been asked to write a bit of a blog here, and my lovely hostess has been kind enough to invite me to write on any topic I choose. When she threw that out there, of course I was delighted. Any topic, hmm? Oh, the possibilities! And of course that got me to daydreaming, and of course THAT led to my blog post, which I?ve entitled ?What Superpower Would I Want??
If I could have any superpower in the world, I?d choose time travel. I wouldn?t want to change anything, I?d just like to go hang out. And the first time I?d go to would be back to the late eighties. There was so much great music on the radio then. I wouldn?t have to bother with picking out CDs, I?d just turn on the radio. I?d go visit myself in college, I?d arrange to meet myself at one of the weekend frat parties, and I?d try to convince myself that drinking half a gallon of RC cola and sloe gin is NOT a good idea. ?I know, honey, it?ll make for a GREAT story when you get older, but you are going to hate yourself in the morning. And you?ll never, ever be able to drink sloe gin again. Ever.? I would also try to talk myself out of sleeping with That One Guy, the one who took my virginity and turned out to be a complete douche. I don?t know if it would work, but I would try my best to convince myself to wait just a couple of short weeks for the next one. ?Trust me on this one, Self! Please!? (Okay, I guess there are a few things I?d try to change.) And of course my time machine would have to be my car. That way I could fill up with cheapo gas before I left the eighties to come back home. Yep, that would pretty much be the perfect first trip back in time.
I?ve always been drawn to humorous romance, the goofier the story, the better. I figured this story would be perfect for a fundraiser celebrating the heart and all its quirks. What better way to nurture the heart than to write a story about the goddess of Love? A Slightly Different Perfect is the story of a mousy fifth grade teacher, Trisha Gillespie, who gets turned into the goddess of love Aphrodite. In her new incarnation, she learns a valuable lesson about the price and the rewards of true love.
I?d be very pleased if you?d visit me at my website, www.sylviashults.com, or become a fan of my Facebook page, which I?ve called Sparkleheart. I hope you enjoy A Slightly Different Perfect, and I do appreciate your support of the American Heart Association. See, my mom?s got heart disease ? she had a heart attack a couple of years ago and had to have a stent put in ? so this really is a cause that I support for personal reasons. Enjoy the story, support the AHA, and Goddess bless.
Even immortals need a vacation now and then?
When Trisha Gillespie, mousy fifth-grade teacher, is chosen to take Aphrodite’s place on Mount Olympus, she thinks she is up to the task. Who wouldn?t want to be the goddess of love, beauty, and physical perfection? But then she does the unthinkable and falls for a mortal. Will the new goddess accept her fate knowing she?ll have to leaving love behind?
ABOUT THE 28 DAYS NOVELLAS
All proceeds from the sale of these shorts, which will be offered exclusively on AllRomance.com and OmniLit.com as individual eBooks, will be donated to the American Heart Association.
Sometimes love hits you when you least expect it?
Exchange student Elia Gianni arrives at the Dayton airport ready to soak up everything American. When the young Italian was offered a placement with the Steele family, he knew he’d been given the chance of a lifetime. What he didn?t anticipate was the Steele?s blond, blue-eyed son, Rick.
The instant Rick sets eyes on the fantastic foreigner he falls head over heels. But the big, macho athlete was used to hiding his feelings and desperately wanting things he couldn?t have. Revealing the truth would change everything and throw his family into a tailspin.
Reality, however, becomes harder to deny when Rick is forced to share his bedroom with Elia. The summer immersion experience turns out to be more than anyone was prepared for as the two young men become lost in one another, sharing an exchange…of hearts.
ABOUT THE 28 DAYS NOVELLAS
All proceeds from the sale of these shorts, which will be offered exclusively on AllRomance.com and OmniLit.com as individual eBooks, will be donated to the American Heart Association.
I write Celtic/Romances about long swords, hot heroes, and warrior women and I?m calling all warriors at heart to join the battle against heart disease by reading a romance from All Romance Ebooks 28 days of Heart Campaign. One will be released each day of February so you can read all 28.
Mine will be released February 20th, TIMELESS VOYAGE. With the purchase of Timeless Voyage and any of the 28 Days of Heart Ebooks, all proceeds benefit the American Heart Association. As you read about the strong hearted warrior woman, Anwen, remember you are a warrior as well as your purchase helps AHA battle heart disease.
Love isn?t bound by the limits of time?
Off the mist shrouded coast of Ireland, a pagan lady-pirate, Anwen, captures the enemy, a Roman, Titus Rufius Kaeso. The Celtic warrior woman presses her hard iron dagger against Kaeso?s throat, but her arm does not obey the will to slay him. From time out of mind, memories of fated lovers, druids, and sacrifice, stay her hand. Kaeso is also captivated by dreams of the woman he loved in a previous life, the mirror image of Anwen. But in this lifetime they are foes, Roman and Celt. Can Anwen and Kaeso steer their timeless voyage to a happy destiny or will they be robbed of love once more?
?I shall sing to you, Ovid’s poem, Amores.? In a tone muted with lust he recited, ??Hair parted along her ivory neck.??
Lifting one hand, he brushed his fingers down the back of her smooth neck in feathery strokes. Her skin was so warm and soft. Moving his hand to her face, he traced the outline of her lips. He pressed his lips against hers, gently covering her wet, warm mouth. As he slipped his fingers down her arm, he rested his other hand on her waist, drawing her close. Bodies pressed together, their feet moving in small rhythmic steps, they glided across the sand, dancing to the roar of rushing, white-foamed waves.
Cornelia Amiri is the author of seven Celtic/Paranormal/Romance books: Queen of Kings, A Fine Cauldron of Fish, The Fox Prince, One Heart One Way, Danger Is Sweet, The Vixen Princess, and Druid Quest. She also has stories in three anthologies with L & L Dreamspell, Sleeping With the Undead, A Death in Texas, and Romance of My Dreams. Coming releases in 2010 are a Steampunk/Romance, As Timeless As Stone, a Celtic/Romance novel, Druid Bride, and a short in an anthology, Dreamspell Goddess. She lives in Houston Texas as does her son and granddaughter.
Tweet me @ http://twitter.com/CelticRomanzqEn
What Makes Your Heart Beat?
My husband makes my heart beat. Smart heroes with a tender side. And genies. They?re powerful, captivating, and mysterious. Along with all those great traits and some mystical skills?which can actually be heart-stopping?genies have feelings, too. I write romance novels about genies and despite the paranormal aspect, genies get under your skin (literally) because they?re not afraid to show their emotions. The emotions aren?t always warm and fuzzy, or hot and titillating. They can be vengeful, angry and ferocious and, if well written, will get your blood rushing.
The novella I wrote for ARe?s 28 Days of Heart is called Angels & Genies and introduces genie Match Ramsey, who gets the blood rushing in teacher-turned-realtor Angeline Delaire. Match and his surfer-dude angel sidekick Miguel seek to block the entrance of evil jinni Iblis to the earthly realm. Angeline holds the key to the sought portal. The only hint I?ll give is?as any realtor will tell you?it?s all about location, location, location. But the real story is the conflict Angeline feels?about herself, her career, and Match. That?s where the emotion is. It?s also in the awareness Match increasingly feels that he?d do anything to help her.
This book, as well all the books being sold as part of ARe?s campaign, has an extra dose of emotion because of its intention?to help raise money and awareness of heart disease in women. So, check them out! You?ll be getting a healthy helping of intrigue, passion, and romance, plus you?ll be helping out. That?s where the heart is.
What makes your heart beat?
You can learn about K. F. Zuzulo, her books, and the romance of the jinn at her website, www.kfzuzulo.com.
Angels & Genies will be available from All Romance eBooks on February 24th.
Between Heaven & Earth Lies Temptation
Contractor Match Ramsey has 36 hours to find the portal between the earthly realm and Jinnistan, the land of the jinn from which he comes. He is a genie warrior charged with protecting humans from the trespass of the demon jinni, Iblis. Somewhere beneath his cliffside property lies the doorway. His focus is diverted by the entrancing and determined Angeline Delaire, a sexy realtor who has been directed to buy the property from him at any price.
Angeline is a woman with a fiery temper and independent spirit. She is conflicted by the directive of her client, Mateus Ring, a handsome tycoon who has infiltrated her dreams. Yet, it is Match who inflames Angeline.
She soon realizes that the lustful yearnings ripping through her body come from an evil source. She will have to find clarity between her desire for Match and the overwhelming craving for Mateus. One will redeem her, but the other could destroy her.