Natalie Dae

No Longer Blogging Here...

2011-04-18T15:53:00.000-07:00

Hiya, gang!

I've made the decision to blog in one place now instead of several. If you'd still like to know what I'm up to, I'll be blogging at http://www.emmyellis.blogspot.com/ from now on.

Hope to see you there!

:)

Blogging at Decadent Today!

2011-04-15T02:28:00.001-07:00

Hiya!

I'm blogging HERE today for the release of my new book. WOOT!

Out Today! Whooop!

2011-04-04T02:21:00.000-07:00

Anna, Kline, and Jack. Three people who all have the same thing in mind - ultimate pleasure and a night they won't forget.

Anna has longed for a third person to join herself and her permanent lover, Kline, on their monthly trysts at a New York City hotel. Kline always takes control on these evenings, calling the shots and only allowing Anna to come when he wants her to, so what makes her think he will grant her request of having a threesome?

Kline has made Anna wait for her deepest desire, and tonight she will get the second lover she asked for a year ago. Kline will do anything to make Anna happy, including allowing the stranger inside her body, but he isn't prepared for how sharing her will make him feel.

Jack is hired to join Anna and Kline for an hour of rampant sex and is hit with confusing emotions once he sees the beautiful woman spread-eagled on the bed, duct tape holding her wrists and ankles to the posts. Something about her changes his perspective with regards to his job, and he finds he wants more than just a sample of the woman who has gotten under his skin.

Reader Advisory: This book contains scenes of light bdsm.

Wannit? Buy iy HERE!

Bad Blogger!

2011-04-02T11:08:00.001-07:00

I have got to be one of the world’s worst bloggers for an author. I’m meant to blog regularly and all that jazz, but time runs away from me every time. I can’t remember the last time I wrote a proper blog post, so here goes.

Let’s set the scene. It’s 6:45 p.m. and I’m still in my damn pyjamas. I’ve been busy doing bits and bobs today, jazzing up a blog for friends and then updating my review site. I purchased the domain name for it today, so my groovy little review place will soon be www.mizlovelovesbooks.com, viewable now as www.mizlovelovesbooks.blogspot.com. Ah, isn’t that lovely? The site has come on in leaps and bounds, so I decided to make it official and whatnot. I also need to launch my other website (www.emmyellis.com) but I’ve started it from scratch and it still needs quite a bit doing to it. Maybe I’ll do that next Saturday and get it finished.

So, at the moment I need to clean my house, clean my SELF (!!!), and then it will be time to either read or watch a film. Then tomorrow is Mother’s Day here in the UK, so I’m planning to read all day and just be a plain old lazy cow.

I just got word that my M/M book, Mane Attraction (Sarah Masters), is doing very well in sales. This surprised me, as I wasn’t sure when I wrote it whether people would take to my brand of humour. It seems they have, or are at least giving it a go by purchasing the book. Thank you—it’s very much appreciated! I laughed my head off at myself while writing it. Let’s hope it has the same results for readers, although I wouldn’t like to think of people’s heads falling off. No, that wouldn’t be very cool.

My Natalie Dae name has a ménage Lust Bite coming out on 4th April with Total-E-Bound. That was interesting to write—a new avenue for me, what with two men and a woman doing saucy stuff—and I’m looking forward to seeing how that is received. I also have an historical, A Gentleman’s Harlot, coming out in July. Can’t wait for that one! And then there is Just For Tonight, also due out in April, and theeeeeennnnn Killing Her Slowly, although I’m not sure when that one will be released.

Cripes. So many books coming out at the same time. Serves myself right for subbing them all around the same time then, doesn’t it.

Myself and Jaime Samms are coming to the end of our novel The Dreaming, which has been a joy to write. As usual, me and Jaime have just run with whatever comes into our heads and I’m really looking forward to how that one is received.

As to Black Cougar Curse, written with my other dear pal, Tess MacKall, well...that book is doing very well indeed, better than I ever dreamed, God bless it. I love that book, not just because I love the plot etc., but because it’s special to me due to having written it with Tess. I feel the same about my books with Jaime. They’re extra special somehow, when written with someone else. A joining of two minds, producing something we couldn’t have done by ourselves without the talent of that other person.

As for what’s in the works… I need to write a short story that I’ve been asked for, finish that vampire book (I knowwwwwwwwww! I haven’t got around to it yet), and revamp a couple of others, get them subbed or give them away as freebies. I need to get going on that.

On the work front, things are going well. I’ve settled into my position now, know what’s what, and, of course, I love creating cover art and making authors happy. A new month’s covers are about to start, so if you’re interested in seeing those as they are created, and you’re not on my Facebook page, you might want to join me there. I use the Emmy Ellis one every day, and if you plug my name into the search thingy on there, I’m the woman with the black-and-white photo of my face, which, incidentally, looks nothing like that anymore. I now have wrinkles, am blonde, have long hair, and look infinitely older than that picture, which must be coming on two years old now.

Anyway, I’ve waffled enough. Time for me to go and have a bath (stinky cow!) and do a bit of cleaning around the house.

Have a great rest of your weekend, you beautiful people you, and I’ll try and blog again soon. Honest.

And The Winner Is...

2011-04-02T07:06:00.000-07:00

The winner of yesterday's competition here for Desiree Holt's book is Karen! Whoop! Please could you email Desiree here: desireeholt@desireeeholt.com

Well done!

:o)

Comment and You Could Win a Copy!

2011-04-01T10:34:00.000-07:00

Book one in the Sequins, Saddles and Spurs series.

Stranded in Mesa Blanco, Texas, with no money and no prospects, Emily Lathrop hires on as the cook at the Lazy Aces Ranch. Two problems—she can’t cook, and owner Wyatt Cavanaugh is so hot she nearly burns herself just standing near him. Trying to keep her hormones under control is a problem when Wyatt seduces her into his bed and teaches her the real meaning of erotic love.

Now proper Emily finds herself shockingly addicted to the BDSM games he likes to play, her body craving the bondage and domination that pushes her thermostat past the point of combustion even though she suspects it’s all going to come crashing down any moment with a big, painful thud.

New Cave Release! Lily Harlem

2011-03-02T01:02:00.000-08:00

Most women would think themselves eternally lucky to have a hot, sinfully sexy rock star giving them the serious come-on—so imagine how I felt to find not one but two giving me the eye! Phew! I was turning somersaults.

But of course this led to a massive and, quite honestly, unenviable dilemma. How the heck do you choose between two rock gods who want nothing more than to give you pleasure of the extremely intense variety?

Lucky for me these global superstars were brothers who knew just how to share the same toy—sorry, I mean woman. That left me free to take a break from managing the band and let their experienced, talented hands manage me.

BUY NOW!

A New Start Begins

2011-02-24T11:15:00.000-08:00

Today I woke with a new outlook on life. The sun was shining—looks like spring is on the way—and it seemed like the air was different. It wasn’t, but everything that had bothered me in life before Wednesday of this week no longer bothers me today. I have been given a golden opportunity to head the art department at Total-E-Bound, and I took it gratefully with the knowledge that this job has literally changed our lives. You have no idea how much.

I visited the Total-E-Bound offices yesterday for a meeting and then lunch, except it happened the other way around because traffic held us up on the way and I arrived later than planned. Lunch was in a groovy little cheese food place, and being the total dork I am in that we very rarely eat out, I had no clue what to choose. I declined wine and opted for tea, and when it came time for the toast I raised my teapot in typical, quirky Em fashion. I’ve never denied being an oddball.

When the job description was given, I didn’t freak. I can do this. I’m looking forward to doing this. I have a few things to learn but am confident of being able to master them. I’ll get my chance to expand my creative wings and the thought of it is very exciting. For the first time in a very long time, with the exception of starting work for TEB freelance in December, I felt the weight of burdens literally drop off my shoulders. There will be no more worrying about our finances, of where the money will come from to buy this or that. There is no more uncertainty in the future as to whether my royalties for various things will help cover what we need. My husband has carried us all for years, has done so just so I could follow my passion, and now I get to help him bring wages into the house. I can now say I have a JOB. No more freelance; I work for TEB as a hired employee.

It’s surreal, it’s exciting, it’s a life-changing thing.

When we got home last night and I told the boys, they knew things had changed for us. Their faces said it all. There have been times I felt I should give up, but something told me to plug on. There were times when I nearly got a job outside the home and left my writing and art behind, but my God, I’m so glad Hubby told me to keep plodding on (thank you, love!).

So everyone in our house woke with a fresh start in mind, where the future is brighter and life isn’t so sucky. Smiling faces, good moods. It’s wonderful. My eldest, who lives in her own home 17 miles away, arrived here today just so she could share this moment—she knows how important this change is and what it means. She’s as excited as I am.

Although I still can’t get over the fact this is happening to me and my family, and that from now onward the worries no longer exist--it will take a while to get used to that--I know I will have fun, work damn hard, and love every minute of it. The job is a dream one where I get to stay at home, still able to be here for my children if they’re sick, still here when they get home from school.

We have been blessed, and I look forward to working with you in the future should you have books with TEB. From meeting Claire and some of her staff yesterday, it was highly apparent they really do care about their authors and their books. Their authors' wellbeing is of paramount importance, and I was touched by their depth of passion for what they do. They are dedicated, kind people, ones I felt immediately at home with, as though I had known them for years. I'm looking forward to many years of friendship and work with TEB. I feel I have found a home and new family as well as a job.

Best,

Guest L.J. Holmes

2011-02-17T01:47:00.000-08:00

Hey, everyone! Please welcome L.J. Holmes to my blog! Take it away, L.J.!

What a pleasure it is to be here. Thank you for your invitation.

Not many people know that the apartment complex where I live decided a few years back to paint all of our fire hydrants. (They’ve since gone back to the “average”.) It was a bit of a shock when I stepped out the first time—see, there’s a fire hydrant about THIS far from my entrance door—so it wasn’t like the fire hydrant could hide its new persona. Seeing the fire hydrant bedecked as a Dalmatian fire dog made me think about my Dad…and boy do I have stories to tell you all about my Dad.

I grew up with my Dad active in the volunteer fire company. He was—and boy are you going to love this—the FIRE POLICE CHIEF! Why are you going to love this? Well, Dad was not the most, uhm, obedient, I suppose would be the best description, of fire safety codes that the rest of us have to adhere to during emergencies. Dad was following the fire engine to a three-alarm blaze about a mile and a half from our home. I was about eight, maybe nine at the time.

Dad used his own car. I’m not sure exactly what Dad was doing—some suspected he hadn’t pushed the connection for his fire-lights into the cigarette lighter socket so was jiggling it and looking down when it happened while driving one handed…or maybe with his knees.

At the end of the road we live on, is—surprise, surprise— a stop sign. Even with the whirly lights and the siren woof woofing, they DO stop to make sure the rest of you do what the law requires of you… So, picture a fire engine, men in their heavy fire gear clinging to the back of the truck, the stop sign, and my Dad coming up behind them, the FIRE POLICE CHIEF, his attention not up there, but down there.

Dad drove his car right on up the back side of the fire truck so his Mercury hood ornament was kissing the dancing emergency lights for all it was worth. For those of you who never saw the hood ornament on older Mercury cars, picture the Roman god Mercury who used to be the Greek god Hermes. With Mercury’s winged sandals dancing a merry jig with the flashing fire lights, my Dad, his nose plastered to his dashboard and eyes peeking sheepishly at his newest creation, THAT’S the picture that made the daily newspaper and it WAS a classic. For all I know, it may still be hanging in the back room at the firehouse.

I’d like to say that was the ONLY questionable adventure my Dad had with his pyromania, but like George Washington and his cherry tree decapitation, I cannot tell a lie.

My Dad was one of those Jack-Of-All-Trades who thought he’d mastered them all…unfortunately, reality differed with him.

Let me share the time my Dad decided to, uhm, dispose of a hornets’ nest. The nest was growing, quite spectacularly, from the eaves under the porch portico that led off the laundry room doorway. Everyone knows that you do not dispose of hornets’ nests before twilight because the buzzers are out inserting their stingers into anyone who gets on their bad side up until some inner clock tells them it’s time to return to the nest and resurface those stingers for the next day.

Twilight, when the day meets on the horizon with the night that is about to send everyone into starlight time…and, of course, the best time to exterminate an entire nest of nasty stingers; I DO include Dad in that.

Armed with a can of gasoline and a spray nozzle, Dad soaks that sucker until it is absolutely drenched. The scritch of the match was quiet compared to the WHOOSH that exploded the second the match hit the nest…oh, and the portico along with the porch. See, you’re supposed to knock the nest from the house before igniting it.

I watched the entire porch and a good three quarters of the back wall feed the flames before the fire company—yep, the very same one—arrived to put out the damage my Jack-Of-All-Trades and master-of-none FIRE POLICE CHIEF DAD gave birth to.

In Dad’s “real” job, the one he did when not strutting his FIRE POLICE CHIEF badge around, he serviced and repaired oil burners, commercial and residential. Every year as the fall approached, Dad went around the neighborhood, reminding everyone to schedule having their oil burners cleaned and made ready. It was a religion to him.

I don’t actually remember which month it was, although it WAS cold. Later I would be told it happened at the stroke of midnight, but I was still a kid and had been sleeping quite soundly when the front chimney, the one only this far from my bed, blew up taking a good chunk of the house’s innards with it.

I shared my room with my grandmother, who quickly got us both out of there, down the stairs and out the door. My dad was already out on the stone driveway, his boxers at half mast, looking up at his creation with a somber look upon his face, that turned to something else…embarrassed bluster?...when the fire engine pulled into our driveway and once more put out the flames spewing from the house of the FIRE POLICE CHIEF. (Not sure if the bluster was because of another fire at our house or because he was out there in his boxer shorts… I know for me, THAT was more traumatizing than the explosion.)

Looking back, I cannot help wondering why they did not retire my dad. The only excuse I can come up with is it was an ALL volunteer fire company…any volunteer, even one as creatively incompetent as my Dad, was better than NO volunteer.

One of these days, I am going to have to write a book about Dad. I KNOW you’d love hearing about Dad deciding to cut his own asbestos siding and then attaching it to the house so crookedly a lightning bolt could get beneath it and set fire to that whole side of the house. And there’s the bag of oil dry in the garage attic that another hornets’ nest claimed ownership of. Oh, and the BATS, and when Dad decided he could install central air conditioning all by himself…BIG holes (measuring was for amateurs, Dad determined, quite sagely).

We had creatures visiting inside from those big holes that don’t usually have access to your house’s innards…but then Dad was quite content to make entryways large enough to welcome them without any problems. For them. At least now you know why I have this permanent tic in my left eye.

But let me tell you about the two books I HAVE written.

My current book is just out called Forever With You and released from the Muse It Publishing, Inc.’s HOT Side Muse It Hot on February 1st, 2011!

This is my all-time favorite story so far. Coryne is a Family Court Lawyer suddenly with money and a need to have a custom designed cabin built on land she owns in the mountain. Keith Patterson, owner of Patterson Construction shows up, and the sight of him stirs long-dormant feelings Coryne does not want to deal with. Besides, he’s too gorgeous by half to actually come through on what she needs. Her coworkers convince her Keith can come through, though, so she takes a chance and hires the eye candy delicious torment.

She sets up a camping trailer so she’s on the spot to oversee the progress…probably not one of her wisest choices. Each day is a struggle to resist the lure of Keith’s sexy body and her reaction to it. Torture; pure unmitigated torture. Will Coryne maintain control?

There is a surprise ending you will not see coming, one that will remain with you long after you have finished this very short story.

My second book will be out on March 1st, 2011, again from the Muse It Hot side of the Muse Publishing, Inc. This one is called The Pendulum Swings.

It’s sort of a Time Travel. It DOES have Ancient Egypt and Rome as a backdrop for the heroine, and eventually the hero too, but not until he’s done the wild thing with a very seductive fireplace.

But I am jumping ahead of the story a bit.

She wakes in a room with weird things she has never seen before—and for that matter, she doesn’t recognize her own hand either.

He enters this strange room, a snarling mass of a man who is hunky but not particularly liking what he sees in her. In fact, he seems to hate her.

He calls her “Joanna”? She has no idea what a “Joanna” is but gathers it is supposed to be her. She quickly denies it.

He tosses the word, “amnesia” at her with such derision, it must be about as desirable as sand fleas or the plague.

She does not understand what she’s done to make him loathe her, and now that she thinks on it, who the devil is she?

Whoever she is, she has a long journey ahead of her, and hopefully along the way she’ll be able to figure out how she came to be this woman he so obviously abhors before she loses all hope.

If you want to learn more about that seductive fireplace, Best Selling Author, and my magnificently talented daughter, Kat Holmes, interviewed Ms. Marble on her own site a while back. It’s an intriguing interview that required Kat actually going on a road trip. The link is:

http://katluvr130.blogspot.com/2010/08/talking-fireplace.html

As for me, well, I have a whole lot of blogspots because I do something I call COVER BLOGS, that one of my fellow Muse Authors calls STATIONARY TRAILERS. I have three set up exclusively for Muse authors, one that is for Muse authors and others with publishers other than Muse, and another that I call my TOOTING HORN that I use to post all kinds of self-boasting stuff about me and my daughter Kat. Boasting doesn’t come easy so had to set up a spot just for that purpose.

I will give you the links to my main Muse sites and the one for everyone. They are:

http://linsownblog.blogspot.com

http://linsownbooklounge.blogspot.com

http://linsownfirebrand.blogspot.com

http://linsownoyster.blogspot.com

My e-mail is: Spatzdkat1212@yahoo.com (Spatz is my baby kitty, and a co-star in one of my upcoming stories…June 1st, 2011 In From The Cold)

My author’s page at Muse Publishing, Inc. is

http://museituppublishing.com/musepub/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=65&Itemid=82

The direct buy page for Forever With You

https://museituppublishing.com/bookstore2/index.php?page=shop.product_details&flypage=flypage.tpl&product_id=104&category_id=72&option=com_virtuemart&Itemid=1

At $1.99 a true bargain.

The Pendulum Swings

https://museituppublishing.com/bookstore2/index.php?page=shop.product_details&flypage=flypage.tpl&product_id=126&category_id=73&option=com_virtuemart&Itemid=1

Grumble!

2011-02-16T04:30:00.001-08:00

I knew this morning that I shouldn’t have gone into town. You know those days where your inner voice is screaming: Don’t do it! Stay home!

Well, I ignored that voice because we were running low on supplies. I needed handy shit like food and stuff. So, I dropped little one off at school and walked to town. Halfway down some guy stepped into the road and nearly got run over. I saw the danger before he did and I stopped, as though me stopping would make him stop walking, but he was ahead of me and wouldn’t have taken my cue. So I let out a pathetic, “Oh!” and that did the trick. He stopped, the car stopped, and all ended well.

Apart from my effing heart going like the clappers and the fact I’d nearly shit my pants.

Anyway, I got into town, went food shopping, couldn’t find the meatballs. Minor bug, but a bug all the same. I paid, left the goods there cos they do home delivery, and went off to get my nails done. I had them done in January as a birthday treat and had let them grow out until they looked disgusting. So I walked in, and the usually chirpy lady asked: You got an appointment?

No, I didn’t, but I’ve never needed one before. She’s always fitted me in. So immediately I felt like a kid who had done something wrong. Not cool. So she asked what I wanted. I said the old ones taking off and new ones put on. She said she had someone coming in half an hour later, so I suggested she take mine off, I go back around town to get my other stuff, and return to have the new put on once she'd finished with the other lady. Fine. Lovely. Until, with her little machiney thing, she caught my cuticle and the skin ripped. Not her fault because my cuticle on that finger was non-existent because I’d been, umm, picking it due to something going on next week that I’ll tell you about next week.

So, ouch. Blood dripping, nail woman panicking she’d hurt me. I assured her it was ok, but it would not stop bleeding. She gave me a plaster to put on while I went back around town. Man, my finger THROBBED like mad.

Anyway, off I went into Argos. It’s a shop some Brits take the piss out of because you can get cheap shit there. Cheap—therefore I like Argos despite the jokes about it. So I’m browsing, looking for a new slow cooker (crock pot) because mine broke last week. I could have cried because I use it one hell of a lot with my job being what it is, and I can have the food cooking all day without me worrying about fucking about making dinner later. It broke because I had the pot bit upside down in the dishwasher while I loaded it up, left the dishwasher drawer out, and the lid, swimming on the worktop covered in water (don’t ask, just don’t!) skidded across, fell off and landed on the pot. Cracked it into about 4 pieces. Gutted because I loved it and gutted because my daughter bought it for me. So I needed a new one. I saw the cheap price, thought That’ll bloody well do! and waited at the counter for it to be brought down. Lemme explain. Argos has nothing in it except rows of catalogues on high sides. You look through the book, pick what you want, write the number down, then pay at the till. Then they good folks who work there rummage through the warehouse and bring it to the collection desk.

I see the box and think: That’s rather big. Bigger box than the last one. So I mentioned that to the woman, and she assured me it was just packaging. “You know what these companies are like.” Yeah. I do.

I carried it out—and my God it was heavy—and went back to the nail place. She did her stuff, I left, and hefted the cooker around town while I picked up some other bits and bobs. On the way to get the bus, this little kid, must have been about 2, legged it up to this hairdressers we have here where there’s a massive yellow rubber duck in the window—it’s relevant to the name of the shop. He’s saying “Quack, quack!” and I smiled at him, then at this older lady who was smiling madly at me. And we’re talking excessively madly here, folks. I assumed she was his granny or something, so I said, “Oh, bless, he’s gone to see the duck.”

Her smile vanished, and she then stared at me as though I was shit on her shoe. I thought: What the EFF? You were just smiling at me!

For the record, our town has one of the highest rates for mental people (statistical fact; I’m not joking) so I can only assume she was nuts.

I walked off wanting to cry because shit, it had been hard enough going out there today because I really hadn’t wanted to and forced myself. I’m actually worrying I’m becoming agoraphobic, for Christ’s sake. I have somewhere I have to be next week and although I’m not worried about meeting the person I have to meet—very far from it—I’m nervous about travelling so far from home.

I waited for the bus. It came late. I got home, wanted a wee, ciggie and cuppa in that order. I couldn’t get my key in the door quick enough. I wanted “home” to swallow me, know what I mean? I automatically came to sit here and start work, but made myself unpack the cooker so I could get some food on, work without worrying. I opened the box…

The cooker is the size of a gorilla.

The cooker is the size of my fucking microwave.

I could fit two chickens in it.

No wonder it was bloody heavy!

Now I’m here, feeling much better for being at home. I have a project I must finish but it’s a long job and I now don’t feel in the right frame of mind for it so may have to leave it until tomorrow. I would have finished it last week but I’d been waiting on some software to arrive and a couple of microphones. Don’t ask! All will be revealed soon!

I have no clue why I’ve told you all about this morning. I’ve rambled. It was a very boring ramble. Begging your pardon.

It's Empty so We'll Fill It!

2011-02-15T01:30:00.000-08:00

Oh, God. The laundry bin is full AGAIN. Don’t you just hate that? Especially when you emptied it the day before.

My laundry bin is rather large. It has to be with six people living in this house. If I miss just one day of doing laundry, I know all about it. The dirty clothes spill over the sides and end up on the floor. Yesterday I did eight wash loads. Granted, two of them were bedding from five beds, but come on! Six general loads just because I wrote Sunday and didn’t do laundry?

Now this morning I see it’s full again. Spilling over full. Even if all six of us put our clothes in there from yesterday, plus our nightwear, it should only be half full. Yeah, the bin is that big. I can only surmise people in this house haven’t been putting their dirty washing in the bin. Bedroom floors spring to mind. So when the washbin has been emptied, they go and refill it.

I must have relations who like to fill things once they’re empty, in manic-like fashion. Sort of: Quick! There’s an empty receptacle! Fill, fill, fill!

I say this because yesterday I also emptied the kitchen and bathrooms bins.

Both. Are. Nearly. Full. Again.

Buuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuug!

*I shall now return to my regular schedule of putting up a couple of reviews then doing some writing.*

(Breathe, Em. Breaaaaaathe!)

The Brits

2011-02-14T11:39:00.000-08:00

I think everyone has a favourite type of author voice that suits them for various reasons. I’ve found that I’m most at home reading Brit-voice authors. 1, because I’m a Brit, and 2, I have no trouble understanding the nuances and meanings, the way the prose flows with that unmistakeable Britishness that only another Brit can fully understand because they’ve lived hearing it all their lives. I have several US authors I love too, but today I’m talking Brit.

Since reviewing for Miz Love Loves Books, I’ve had the pleasure of finding two new-to-me Brit-voice authors who have written books that have touched me so deeply just because of that Brit voice, among other things. Prior to Miz Love, I had read M. King, whose prose wowed me beyond anything that had come before. I am a serious fan of M. King, and now I add two more Brit-voice authors to my list of those I don’t think I’ll ever tire of reading. Rachel Randall and Lynne Connolly.

These three women have given me so many wow moments, so many misty-eyed moments, all due to me feeling so at home while reading that it brought me to tears. That sounds absolutely nuts, I know that, but when someone writes how you think and speak, it kind of gives you that feeling that you belong just by reading their books.

M. King: She has a fantastic turn of phrase and plays the written word like a well-tuned instrument. She gets right into a character, digs very deep, and I love the way she tells us so much more with what she doesn’t write—she’s a “between the lines” author, where you sometimes have to use your noggin to work things out for yourself, and the reward, when you get that “Ah!” moment of seeing things how she intended, and when you spot those hidden nuggets, is priceless. My favourite book of hers is Breaking Faith. I will never forget it.

Lynne Connolly: She writes a historical romance like you wouldn’t believe. For me she is perfect in every way. The wording, the sentence patterns, the absolute perfection that comes across leaves me speechless. I have read five of her Richard and Rose series and can honestly say I don’t think I’ll ever read a historical like them. They are amazing, and her attention to detail, her lush, fantastic phrases that give images so clear you’d think you were there yourself, really do make me get goose bumps.

Rachel Randall: What can I say but oh my goodness. This author’s voice is something I grew up hearing. London, that distinct sound, and those word choices, when strung together, took me right back into the past. My first taste of Rachel Randall was with His Christmas Present, and even though the tale itself wasn’t one designed to make the reader cry, I cried. I felt so “home”, so in my comfort zone while reading, it was as though, if I had chosen all the ingredients for the perfect author designed for me as a reader, I had found it in Rachel Randall.

Each of these women have their own distinct voice, their own patterns, their own ebbs and flows, and I love them all. So long as these three write, I will be a happy reader. I would love for you to check them out too!

New Cave Release - Tess MacKall

2011-02-11T08:17:00.000-08:00

Eden Riley left her high school geek days far behind. Or so she thought. But when she returns to her hometown and comes face to face with the local heartthrob, sparks ignite like a chemistry set on crack. Super-smooth Nick Lancaster sets her nerves jangling and thrusts her libido into overdrive. But can the former geeky girl overcome her insecurities and jump his sexy bones?

Nothing suits former jock and debate-team star Nick more than sparring with the one-time nerd. He’s just itching to get up close and personal with her high-velocity curves and tangle with her on the nearest horizontal surface.

With Valentine’s Day fast approaching, all bets are off when Cupid draws back his bow and Nick has only twelve days to convince Eden she belongs with him, in his heart and in his bed.

BUY NOW!

My Big Fat Publishing Experience

2011-02-11T02:51:00.000-08:00

Today I am going to be totally honest about my experience of being a writer.

It’s sometimes a heartbreaking profession. I’ve cried—sobbed so hard I couldn’t breathe—I’ve sighed, I’ve got angry at myself (edits will do that to you!), I’ve wanted to scream because at times, when learning to be an editor, I just did not “get” those damn clauses and dangling modifiers and all those horrible, pesky little things we need to know. I’ve put my head on the desk and just felt worthless, depressed, shit. I’ve wandered around the house feeling the same. Allowed my dream to take over my life. Allowed people to upset me. I have upset others. Been taken the piss out of, talked about, reamed, accused of plagiarism—Jeez, all manner of things that made me want, several times, to shut off this computer and walk away, never to return. No word to anyone, just go. Fuck this for a laugh.

Sound familiar?

Sales: I’ll share my experience. Obviously it won’t be the same for everyone. To get straight to the point, and I’ve said this before, I don’t make much money from writing. Back in the day, when I first started writing, money didn’t even enter my head. I wrote because I wanted to, I loved it, and it was just something I “did”. Then I got to know authors, was privileged enough to be on the inside of a few publishing companies—via editing and cover art—to see how a publishing company works. I saw sales—or not—how trends worked, how everything worked, from submissions to published tales. Then making money from writing seemed an option.

Some people make big money at this gig—and no, I’m not mentioning any names! I have been studying the way things work this past year. For those of you who know me from “way back then”, you’ll know I made last year my “get published shitloads of times” year. I shut myself away, barely emailed a soul. It was just something I felt I had to do. Something for me. Without getting out the violins, all my life I’ve given, given, given to others—mostly my choice, oftentimes not—and I was stubborn, dug my heels in, and was what some might see as selfish. I don’t see it that way. I took time out, did something I wanted to do for the first time ever (on such a big scale anyway), and it felt good.

I gave myself a goal of publishing 20 books. I exceeded it. Job done, yay me, whatever. I had a blast too. The reason for this insane amount of writing last year—and at the last count it was 425K; not bragging, just stating the facts, ma’am—was to see if having lots of books out there increased sales. It’s common sense, right? To have many books out there means you’ll rake in the cash eventually, yes?

No, it doesn’t.

I will admit that some royalties made, and still make, me laugh so hysterically that I border/ed on looking like some nutter in an institution. If I didn’t laugh I would cry. All that hard work, all that fucking effort, for something like $3 a month sometimes.

I’m not joking.

So, I had been very depressed at that three bucks, especially because it came from a place where you’d think that once you’re published there you’re loaded. It’s a myth, guys! I see every publisher the same now. It’s not the name of the place you’re published at that makes sales, trust me. It’s a combination of many things, I suspect, if we wanted to look at it in an analytical way so we knew what to do and how, so WE could then make big money like those who do, but as with all things in life, what works for one person may not work for you and me.

There we are, flapping around in a sea full of others flapping too. Some aren’t flapping. No, they’re swimming strong, know their direction to shore, and some even have the luxury—be it from hard work (and bloody good for them too, because they deserve the rewards) or sheer luck; right place, right time etc.—of a yacht coming to collect them to save them even swimming. Good on them, much respect going their way, no animosity whatsoever. Now. In the past I railed it wasn’t fair, it wasn’t this, it wasn’t that, but shit, as you mature you realise that what other people are doing distracts you from doing what YOU’RE meant to be doing. So, Bright Sunrise makes loads of money. So what? And it IS fair that she does because she’s worked hard, writes the books, has found that magic formula or whatever.

It is fair.

Saying that, I now believe there IS no magic formula. Some are destined to win through hard work, some aren’t. Some are destined to win by fate, some aren’t. Some aren’t flapping but swimming—but getting nowhere fast. Treading water, unable to do what’s necessary to move forward. The currents are against them. It just doesn’t matter to me anymore whether I “make” it. I’m tired of trying to understand it all. I had the dream, no longer have it, of becoming a household name in books. We've all had that dream. Our books as movies etc., and you know what? I don’t want it. Truly, not deep down. If it means having to be something I’m not, to do things I detest doing, being uncomfortable with who I’d become, wishing I could get the old me back, all to have people fawn over me, thinking I’m this person I’m not, using me for my brand, what I can do for them… No. Thank. You.

We’re all people, whether we’re “famous” in this little e-publishing world or not. We all shit, eat, sleep, fuck, hate, like, love, dislike. Putting a sash on that says “best-selling author who everyone loves and adores and swarms around and pats on the back and licks their arsehole so much their nose is permanently brown” is not ME. I don’t speak to people who are “famous” any differently than I do those who aren’t. You’re all the same to me. I couldn’t give a toss whether you earn $7,000 a month, $50,000 per year writing ebooks—and yes, there are people out there who earn that; please don’t shit yourself on my carpet or throw up on the sofa; the bathroom’s that way—because earning that money doesn’t make them any different to authors who make fuck all. All it means is the high earners can afford holidays, nice things etc.—BUT THEY ARE STILL PEOPLE! If they gad about like they’re royalty and I’m beneath them, I don’t want to know them anyway.

Good advice would be to drop the “I’m famous” mantle when dealing with me, because it just doesn’t wash. Also, I’ve noticed since becoming Natalie Dae, that people treat ME differently, giving me the time of day they wouldn’t had I not been published by Ellora’s Cave. Thanks! [Sarcasm intended—I clearly wasn’t worth knowing pre-EC.] Please, stop it. I’m still this person. I’m not some woman elevated in status because a publisher decided they liked my books. You want to talk to me, talk to me because I’m me, but be prepared for getting a response from a boring old cow who sits here day after day at her computer either writing or creating graphic art. Just me.

I was just about to go further into a rant about brands and how being attached to one makes you “different” but I won’t. It’d be ugly. I dislike it immensely.

So, after that interlude of something I clearly needed to get off my chest, let’s get back on track.

Some people make good money at ABC, some don’t. Some people make good money at XYZ—and God, aren’t I just being so original with my publisher names here? LOL—and some don’t. It’s a lottery. It doesn’t matter how big the publisher is, there are far too many other elements to consider when it comes to sales. The publisher can only do so much, then it’s up to you to build your name. There are so many authors out there it isn’t surprising most of us fall by the wayside. The stampede to reach the top is too much for me, I've realised. I’d rather just stroll along nicely, stop along the way to eat an ice cream, have a sunbathe. You know, chill a bit.

Promotion: Does it really work? So far, in my experience, no. I have an “experiment” going on right now with a friend, and if the type of promo we’re doing still makes no difference, then you know what? Fuck promotion up its soul-destroying arse, because promotion costs time and money—I don’t have either to waste, neither does my friend.

Blog posts, blog tours, scavenger hunts, dropping links on groups, adding promo to the end of normal, everyday blog posts, paid advertising, sending books out for review, dropping links to our books/reviews/whatevers on Facebook and the like,—it’s just something we DO, a time-consuming effort to build the brand, to be noticed among the thousands of other people doing exactly the same thing. It works for many but fails for many too.

Myself and my friend are TIRED, but we’ll see this experiment through until the end, because there’s a burning desire to know, once and for all, whether promotion actually works.

Getting your “brand” out there: This involves being a member of several groups and online networking sites. The only one I indulge in now is Facebook. I work mainly from my Emmy Ellis page, because that’s me and exactly who I am from day to day. I can’t be all people all of the time, meaning Sarah Masters and Natalie Dae (Charley Oweson is asleep right now). It’s too exhausting, too time consuming. I used to think they were separate parts of me, cocooned in their different worlds, far removed from who I am as Emmy, but I came to realise they’re not. They are all me, they just write with different voices, in different genres, and I found that keeping the bits of me all apart was making me depressed not to mention insane. I now don’t give a monkeys who knows I’m all of these people—I mean really, who the hell cares? What does it matter in the grand scheme of things? For those who are not aware of many personas, here they all are:

Charley Oweson (formerly M. E. Ellis) – horror writer

Natalie Dae – Het author

Sarah Masters – m/m author

Owner of Miz Love Loves Books – review site

PoshGosh, cover artist

Emmy Ellis – me, editor, proofreader, mother, nanny, daughter, sister, wife, blah-de-blah-blah-blah

Getting your brand out there brings the risk, quite frankly, of getting on people’s tits. You join in on the conversations, bring your own experiences and opinions to the table, boost other authors, congratulate them, sit using up valuable time that could be spent writing, by shooting the shit with other people who are doing exactly the same thing as you—all out there pushing their brand. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve made some effing brilliant friends by being on these groups and sites and I wouldn’t change having been an active member on them for the world because of that alone, but, jaded as it might sound, I didn’t relish sitting there bullshitting with hundreds of people just so my name was “seen” by…other authors! We don’t want to just target other authors, do we? Yes, authors are also readers, and yes, they may well buy our books, but for Pete's sake, think about it: Why are we pushing ourselves at other authors who, if we were all honest and came out stating what we earned, can’t justify the expenditure on others' books anyway?

Readers, those who are loyal to the written word, are the ones we’re supposed to target, but, if you’re like me, I hate “pushing” myself at people. It feels like that to me, anyway. That I’m saying, “Hey, you there! I’m talking to you, and I really do give a shit about what you’re saying—and I do!— that you broke your leg and your dog just shat on your neighbour’s lawn and your neighbour is banging on your window, irate as hell and gunning for you, but are you going to buy my book or what?” It’s a horrible way to go about it, a horrible feeling, something that may well only be a thing I feel, but feel it I do. Also, who the buggering hell wants to listen to me warble on anyway? And NO, absolutely-bloody-no, I’m not saying that so people will say, “Oh, Em, we want to listen to you.” NO! I’m saying it because God, I wouldn’t want to listen to me if I wasn’t me, so why the hell would anyone else?

All these feelings, these worries and insecurities, make Emmy Ellis crap at promotion. I’ve done it, am doing it, and in the past have seen NO CHANGE in sales. So, like I said, this last experiment, and then I’m done. Either people will read my books or they won’t. I will NOT break my heart over whether they don’t. Nope, just won’t do it anymore. It hurts, and why the eff would I want to hurt myself intentionally?

Reviews: Oh, gone are the days when I shit myself over them, when the link makes my guts roll and I’m excited as hell to see what someone thought of my book. Now I ignore them if possible. The ONLY time I read them is if a friend sends me the link saying the review is good. The last time someone sent me a link to a bad one and said I ought to read it—it was a bad one, very, very bad—was because it was so bad they knew it could damage me/my brand. That person quite rightly knew I should know about it, and I went along to read all about how shit my book was, how it was incorrect in places—Research, do your research, Sarah Masters, for in my opinion you know fuck all!

You know what I thought? Aww, leave me the hell alone, there’s a dear. I’m not here to step on anyone’s toes, to overtake anyone’s genre, I just. Want. To. WRITE.

My book was apparently porn. It was so bad that it should never have been published, if the reviewer was to be believed. And that book was so bad, so snark-worthy, that they bought the second book and trashed that too. I had, in my opinion, written a book that stepped on a few toes and it wasn’t acceptable. At the time, I felt they were saying I’d written in a genre that I wasn’t aware belonged solely to them, that they were implying I ought to step away from the keyboard, away from their genre, and hide my arse. They may well not have thought/meant that, and they had the absolute right to express how they felt about my books, but their reviews taught me something: Don’t read reviews ever again if you can help it. What you don’t see doesn’t hurt you. Don’t give someone else the power to upset you—if they didn’t like your book, tough shit.

I’m not saying you shouldn’t read your reviews. I’m just talking about me and mine. They just make me shudder when Google alert informs me I have one, and I close the email and forget about it.

Anyway, we’ve all heard it: Reviews are just one person’s opinion.

Besides, it’s our fault they have our books to review anyway. We wrote them, we chose this profession, so therefore we must expect, when something of ours is out there to be picked at, to receive some negative responses. It becomes clear when reviewers are out to purposely harm, clear when they haven't actually read your book properly (I had a review where the reader admitted to skimming then said things didn't make sense. Perhaps because she skimmed and missed the information she needed, hmm?) and you get to work out which ones are genuine in their constructive criticism—that’s the key words right there!—as opposed to those who have fun reaming your arse in public because they woke up on the wrong side of the bed that day, your book didn’t do anything for them, and rather than put it down when they first decided it was the biggest pile of shit they’d ever read, they continued, reading every painful word, putting themselves through misery—are they fucking NUTS?—in order to tell anyone who reads the review how much they HATED your tale.

Whatever. Floats. Their. Boat.

At one time, bad reviews hurt, made my cheeks get so hot they itched, made me want to cry, but now? Hell no. You don’t like my book? Shame, that. Move on and buy someone else’s, someone you DO like, because spending money on mine, wasting precious hours of your life—which, let’s face it, is very short when you get all maudlin and think about such things—is just plain silly, isn't it? This author no longer gives a crap whether a reviewer spews vitriol about her work. It’s a “shrug” kind of response these days. An “Ah, well, better luck with the next book you pick up. I’ll still be writing whether you like me or not, because I want to, I love it, and it makes me happy. That my books don’t give you the same warm, fuzzy feeling as they gave me is unfortunate, but shit, there are so many books out there you can get the warm fuzzies from, that fucking up by reading mine will soon fade in your memory.”

So, if you get good reviews, I’m genuinely pleased for you. If you don’t, just don’t sweat the small stuff. It doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. It’s just one knockdown of many we’ll all receive in this crazy career we’ve chosen. Expect it, know it’s coming, and then you won’t be disappointed.

So where am I now?

This year is art year. I did the manic writing thing, now I’m easing back. Still writing when I have time but it isn’t my main focus. Graphic art is another of my loves, I’ve discovered, and fate showed me the way in December on this subject. As with writing, making money on cover art isn’t something you can expect unless the publisher pays flat fees per cover. If the book you created the cover for sells, great, you make some money, but if it doesn’t, well, you don’t.

As with writing, I create covers because I love it. I haven’t really been pissed off with not making much money. I’ve created numerous covers for free, numerous blog revamps for free, numerous icons, avatars, banners—you name it, I’ve done it, because it felt RUDE to charge.

How mad is that? To feel rude for charging for my time, effort, and yes, money I spend on some pictures I’ve used. I’m a seriously odd person like that, but I didn’t want to charge authors for something I myself would have wanted but couldn’t have due to not earning enough royalties to cover the charge. People want a nice blog, a nice cover, and the rates people charge—and I only realised this recently, had never looked into the prices on stuff like this before—is EXTORTIONATE! I would feel even ruder asking for that kind of cash.

So, I generally work for free. And please, much as I’d love to help you out prettifying your sites and whatnot, I can’t now. I’ve had to stop doing free work for people, not because I can’t ask for payment and it makes me feel uncomfortable when I’m offered payment, but because I just do not have the time. Close friends, that’s different. People I’ve done sites for in the past, that’s different. The small jobs I’m asked to do on those sites is related to what I did in the past and all comes under that umbrella. It’s new projects I can’t do—unless I offer them, and when I do it means I have a lull going on.

(A lull? What the fuck is THAT?)

Anyway, as I’ve been prattling on about sales in writing, I may as well touch a bit more on sales in cover art. I’ve mentioned the royalty version. Now we come to the flat fee version. Some e-publishers pay anything from $50-$300 a pop per cover. I knew about this but never approached any of them because I didn’t feel they'd want me. Friends told me to apply, but I didn’t. Now we come to where fate stepped in. I got a contract with a publisher for a short ménage, and I wrote to my editor asking if I was allowed to provide my own cover, which I sent to her. Some publishers let you, some don’t. Anyway, the length of my book meant I would get a generic cover, but the publisher wrote and chatted with me about my artwork and asked if I would like to work for her. She mentioned flat fees, and because my experience with that company had been brilliant on the writing side of things, I agreed to do cover art there.

This has drastically changed our life. Without going into my private details, flat fees make one hell of a difference. On some books I might lose out—the royalties, had I been paid this way, will well outshine the flat fee, but on other books I will have come out on top. This suits me fine. I love working with this publisher, get along well with the owner, and I’m happy to say that at last things seem to be going right for us.

WIPs

I have a few WIPs sitting in files. There are three I really want to finish because they’ve been promised to publishers, but there is no great desire in me to write like a fiend anymore. Perhaps it’s because I have the art thing going on, or perhaps I’ve got a block somewhere because writing and having very few read your work is a tad disheartening and kinda makes me not want to bother any longer. Oh, I’ll still write, but the raging fire for it has gone. Whatever the reason, it doesn’t matter. I am happy, can say I’m happier than I’ve been in a very long time, and to me that’s more important than anything. If I’m happy, Hubby and my kids are happy.

Have I grown up?

So I wonder, have I finally grown up? Have I seen the light on what life is really all about? That what truly matters is happiness? I have no idea, I really don’t, but right now I feel I’m in the place I was meant to be all along and that everything I went through before this was for a reason. I needed to understand the publishing world, to be on the groups, to try and promo, to learn the craft, to work my arse off. It all gave me the perspective I have now, led me to where I am now. Just because my dream with writing hasn’t come true, it doesn’t mean my art one won’t. The art avenue has already fulfilled everything I could have hoped for, and I bless the day my short ménage was rejected elsewhere and I chose to sub to where it landed up. If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t be where I am. Fate. I believe in it.

So it wasn’t all a waste of time.

No, it wasn’t. Like I said, I needed to do what I’ve done. It’s given me experience of life, of people, and I’ve made some damn good friends. I look back at my achievements and realise that even though stardom and riches didn’t come from penning my books, the fact that I have many published is a dream fulfilled in itself. Some people dream of just having one out there, so I’ll stop griping and be pleased with doing what I have.

The girl who thought she’d never amount to anything did good.

New Cave Release - Darah Lace

2011-02-11T00:05:00.000-08:00

All her life, tomboy Bradi Kincaid has wanted two things—a career as a veterinarian in her hometown Grayson, Texas…and Mason Montgomery. Problem is, he’s her best friend and according to him she’s “one of the guys”. Convinced he’ll never see her otherwise, Bradi comes up with a sure-fire plan to get over Mason—flirt a little, dance a lot and get laid.

What Mason imagines doing to Bradi is just all kinds of wrong. But the woman on the dance floor isn’t the girl he grew up with. She’s hot and sexy and turning him on. Him and every other man in the bar. She’s also had too much to drink and is unaware of the trouble she’s inviting. He does what any friend would, he steps in, then sets out to teach her a lesson.

But before the sun rises, Mason discovers Bradi has a thing or two to teach him.

This story contains spanking, biting and some “tie me up”, bucking-hard sex.

An Excerpt From: BUCKING HARD

Mason crested the hill overlooking the creek and reined in Rocky, his favored mount for riding the range. He’d heard the bawling calf a quarter mile away and figured he’d find it stuck in the mud. He hadn’t expected to find Bradi Kincaid. In fact if he’d known she’d already ridden to the rescue, he would have headed the other way.

But here she was not ten feet away, ass in the air, up to her knees in green slime and mud, her arms around the struggling calf’s neck, and she still managed to light a fire in his gut. And dammit, that was just all wrong.

They were best friends, for Christ’s sake. Practically raised in the cradle together. They’d fished and hunted side by side, ridden drag to bring up the tail end of cattle drives. And they’d gotten into more trouble than a switch could whip out of them. She was his best bud, one of the guys.

So why did his dick suddenly become a divining rod every time she was near?

She wasn’t unattractive. But Bradi was nothing like the women he preferred. She wasn’t sleek or polished or sophisticated. Her fingernails were cut close to keep the dirt out instead of long and meticulously painted to match her outfit. Her dirty blonde hair was either in a ponytail or a braid, and as far as he knew, had never been streaked, colored or cut to the latest fashion. And she might carry ChapStick in her front right pocket to ward off the blistering Texas sun, but that was the extent of her makeup.

Bradi was Bradi—natural, earthy and blessed with athletic grace that made ranch work look easy—and more often than not these days left him wondering what that lithe and flexible body would be like in bed.

“You gonna sit there all day, or are you gonna help me?”

Leaning forward to rest his forearm on the saddle horn and hopefully hide his growing erection, he tilted his head to one side and smirked at the picture she made. “I don’t know. You look like you’re doing just fine on your own.”

She blew wispy bangs out of her green eyes and gave him a withering glare over her shoulder. “Throw me a rope.”

“Where’s yours?” He looked around for her horse but the only other animal in sight was a cow waiting for Bradi to rescue her calf. “Wait, don’t tell me. You were riding Dahlia.”

That damn horse had a habit of leaving Bradi high and—his gaze wandered over her again—not so dry. Covered in muck, the front of her faded yellow T-shirt was wet and clung to her breasts. Breasts he’d known she possessed but never really noticed until two weeks ago. His gaze locked on the words peeling across the chest. Not that he cared what they said with her nipples prodding so diligently through her bra.

Mentally castrating himself, Mason sat up and reached for the coiled rope attached to his saddle. “When are you going to take that piece-of-shit horse to the glue factory?”

“Just shut up and throw me your rope.”

Ignoring her demand, Mason swung the lasso and sent it sailing over the calf’s head. He pulled the rope taut, wrapped it around the saddle horn, and directed his horse to back up. The little bull cried louder as the mud slowly relinquished its hold. As soon as the calf’s legs found firm ground, he dug in, resisting the pull of the rope.

Bradi laughed and reached for the calf just as it wrenched to one side and kicked. Twisting, she dodged a hind leg, but her feet were still stuck in the mud and she went to her knees. Another kick and brown sludge splattered her chest and neck. “Shit.”

Mason chuckled. “Yep, I imagine so.”

Shooting him another scathing glare, she struggled to stand. “You’re an ass.” Able to finally extract one leg and then the other, she trudged out of the creek toward the calf. “Give me some slack.”

He signaled his horse forward and Bradi deftly slipped the rope from the calf’s neck. The bull bolted for its mama and together they ambled up and over the high bank then disappeared. Looking back at Bradi, Mason wished he hadn’t.

She’d moved up the creek and knelt in a spot of grass to wash the mud from her hands. Tight faded denim hugged her heart-shaped ass and his hands itched to palm those mounds. She stretched to wet a bandana, causing the waistband of her jeans to dip lower, and a strip of hot-pink lace played peek-a-boo between it and her shirt.

His jeans tightened as his cock strained against his fly. He’d never thought about what kind of underwear Bradi wore—she was naked in his recent fantasies—but if he had consciously thought about it, he wouldn’t have figured her for the lace panty type. Last time he’d seen her in her panties, she’d worn white cotton with a Barbie logo. They’d been six and he’d wanted to brag about his Ninja Turtle briefs.

As she rose, he looked away to gather the rope. He stowed it behind him and turned to find her standing beside his horse with her hand out. Fuck. She wanted a ride. And god, he wanted to give her one.

“Well?” She thrust her hand higher. “Give me a hand up.”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He hadn’t thought this far ahead when he’d decided to stick around and help, and his brain certainly wasn’t working now. All he knew was he couldn’t have her sitting behind him, her tits rubbing his back, legs spread… Fuck. “You’re covered with mud.”

“Um, yeah. I kinda noticed that.” She stared up at him with expectant green eyes. Why hadn’t he ever noticed the flecks of gold or the ring of black that reminded him of the sun coming through shadowed forest trees? At his lack of response, her hand fell to her side. “You’re going to make me walk?”

“I don’t want that shit all over me.” Damn, he felt like an ass. He was an ass. He couldn’t let her walk. He’d just have to survive the ride home…and make sure it was a short one.

Before he could offer his hand or an apology, her eyes flashed with anger. And maybe a bit of hurt? “God, Mason, when did you turn into such a pussy?”

She spun around and the metallic whir of a zipper crawled up his thighs and into his balls. Lust rose high but panic shifted into overdrive. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Taking off my clothes so you won’t get dirty.”

Oh, hell no! There was no way— Shit. She hooked her thumbs into the waist of her jeans, starting the downward motion that revealed a hint of one cheek.

“Just get on the damn horse.” He pulled his foot from the stirrup and stuck out his hand. “But I can’t take you home.” His place was closer. “I have things to do.”

A long second passed, then the zipper made a return trip up. His dick jerked in disappointment as she latched on to his hand, shoved her boot into the stirrup and swung herself onto the horse behind him, mimicking his irritated tone. “Things to do.”

The warmth of her body seared his back as she settled into place. His gaze dropped to one side, taking in the slender thigh nestled close to his. The thought of those long legs wrapped around his waist made his balls ache. If she had any idea what she was doing to him, she’d be glad to walk home. Hell, she’d probably run.

But Bradi wasn’t wired that way. He doubted she ever thought about sex. She’d never dated in high school and she never talked about anyone in particular at A&M. The only conversation they’d had about sex was short-lived when he confided his loss of virginity to Katrina Forbes and Bradi made it clear right away the subject of sex was off-limits.

The odds of her still being a virgin at twenty-five were slim, but somehow he couldn’t imagine her having sex with anyone.

Anyone but him.

Busy as a Bee

2011-01-31T02:05:00.000-08:00

Hiya! I've been very busy this month of January, and gladly so. What have I been up to? Cover art, an art design job, a bit of writing, and creating a newsletter. Today I'll be diving into my Victorian, trying to get at least a chapter down in between catching up on my housework. Oh, I've tidied every day, but I haven't done the big clean. You know the one, where the cobwebs are removed, complete with grotty little spiders, and the dust bunnies are chased out from under the bed. And you think I'm joking? Sadly, I'm not. While in bed the other night, I looked at the ceiling and saw an array of--okay, a SWATHE--of cobwebs dangling from every corner. They weren't there last week, I swear it, or if they were they had disguised themselves ACROSS the ceiling, but having got too weighty, I suspect, they've fallen down in long, wool-like strands.

Appalling. I am a dirty bitch. I need to clean.

So, here are a few of the covers I've created this month, and once I've posted them, I'm off to attack the grey wool in my bedroom. I figured that by me shaming myself mentioning them here, I will deffo go and get rid of them.

If you fancy some eye candy this bright and sunny Monday morning, nip on over to Lily Harlem's blog. She's got one of my fave guys on show in all his glory. Well, not all of it, but enough to get the imagination going. LOL! http://www.lilyharlem.blogspot.com/

Competition and Lily Harlem

2011-01-28T02:15:00.000-08:00

Hey, folks! Today I have Lily Harlem here, a really lovely woman who writes superbly and wants to let you know about a competition, but you've got to be quick if you want to enter! Take it away, Lily!

Thanks so much for having me at your blog today, Natalie, it is always great to hang out here. For those of you who don’t know me I’m an author of contemporary erotic romance writing for Ellora’s Cave, Total-e-Bound and Xcite as well as featuring in numerous UK and US anthologies. I got my big break into writing by entering an erotic fiction contest with the first steamy story I’d ever written titled Madam President. Much to my delight I won first place which gave me the confidence and the enthusiasm to continue with my naughty stories. So, with that in mind, I just want to tell any aspiring writers about the Love Honey/Filament Magazine’s latest competition, but you’ll have to be quick – closing is Monday 31st Jan. Hey, you probably weren’t doing anything over the weekend anyway!

Submissions can be sent by email and will be judged by Violet Blue, Sex Educator, Blogger, Author and Editor of erotic anthologies. Not only could you win (first prize is £100 with two runner-up prizes of £50 each) you could also get published in one of her anthologies due for release later this year.

Basically you just need to write the most fantastic, filthy, luscious, dripping, delightful piece of fiction ever. Of course your story needs to meet competition guidelines and ideally suggest the theme water and/or be inspired by one of the photographs on their website.

Then once your sexy words are down send your entry in the body of an email (not as an attachment) to fiction@filamentmagazine.com by 31 January 2011, 5pm GMT, subject line Filament fiction competition.

Be sure to check out all the official details by following the link below and while you’re there sit back for half an hour and listen to a FREE podcast of ‘A Classic Wedding Night’ - written by myself and read by Love Honey’s Alice – ever wondered what Mr and Mrs Darcy got up to on their wedding night after their carriage slipped from view? Wonder no more…phew, its steamy stuff! Or if you prefer just download it for FREE in pdf version. It might give you some naughty inspiration.

http://lilyharlem.weebly.com/awesome-contest.html

Good luck and don’t forget to spell check!

Lily Harlem x

Winner of the 2009 Love Honey Award for Erotic Fiction

New Cave Release - Lily Harlem

2011-01-27T06:32:00.000-08:00

As Robbie Harding belts out hit song Jenny to a packed Wembley Stadium, my heart tears, my mind fudges and my insides heat to a lusty, pulsing boiling point.

Why me more than the other 90,000 screaming fans?

Because I’m Jenny—he’s singing about me.

The guy is sex on legs with a voice to match and has starred in all my hot dreams since the day boys became interesting. For three precious years, it was more than hot dreams. Turns out he wants me back in his life and his bed. How can I resist?

So with lots of naked, sweaty and downright dirty time to make up for, I wield my backstage pass, hunt him down and refuse to be starstruck by the boy next door. Seems Robbie agrees, as he insists on tuning in to my needs and rediscovering our rhythm before we even reach a bedroom.

BUY NOW!

Out Today! Black Cougar Curse

2011-01-26T02:01:00.000-08:00

What kind of couple do you prefer reading about? Do you want them both to be strong, to possibly clash a little with their ideas—which makes for some good sexual tension—or do you like the male strong and the woman less so?

When Tess MacKall and I began writing Black Cougar Curse, we knew Sam, our hero, had to be strong. Of course he did. After all, he’d been cursed and had carried the burden of that curse for too many years to count. He’d endured more years on this earth than anyone, roaming the mountains, waiting for his one true love to come along and break the curse. He longed for love, to be released, yet I have to wonder…wouldn’t that be scary? You’ve lived for a long time, mainly alone, and the prospect of your life changing drastically upon the appearance of your soul mate must be a daunting thing.

Sam copes with it beautifully, embracing the changes Lucia brings. He’s an adorable man who helps Lucia with her grief and also in telling her something about herself—something of which she had no clue before she arrived at his mountains.

So then we come to Lucia. Did we want a woman equally as strong as Sam, or did we want her to defer to him for the most part? No, we wanted a strong woman, someone to match Sam in every way—the perfect combination that was right for those characters.

I suppose each book demands different personalities. What works in one book with one h/h may not work in another when you take into account their lives, what they’re doing, and where they are headed. Toss in their personalities, and you’re left with deciding which one should be the stronger character, or whether they should be of equal strength.

That’s the beauty of writing, though, isn’t it? You get to choose, and sometimes your characters choose for you. For me, that’s always the best way. When characters appear already formed, their personalities and idiosyncrasies built in before I’ve even typed the first word…ah, the exquisite life of a writer!

Blurb: Deep in the mountain wilderness, Lucia Chavez searches for closure to her father’s death, and the mythical black cougar he sought. Drop-dead sexy Cherokee Indian guide Sam Starr knows more than he’s telling. After he saves Lucia from being swept away in a mudslide, the bath they both need turns steamy indeed. Sam and Lucia are living proof that near-death experiences can bring two people closer together—they can’t keep their hands off each other.

Amidst danger and mystery, Sam and Lucia explore the lust that burns between them. If their desire gets any stronger it could bring down the mountains. Ancient secrets hold the key to their unbridled sexual need. Was their passion written in the stars?

One man. One woman. A curse that binds them—and could tear them apart.

Get your sexy on and read an excerpt here:

http://www.jasminejade.com/productspecs/9781419931062.htm

Subscribe to Risqué! the hottest newsletter around featuring once-a-month news from erotic romance authors Natalie Dae, Regina Carlysle, and Tess MacKall. http://groups.yahoo.com/group/risquenewsletter

New Cave Release - Olivia Brynn

2011-01-21T06:33:00.001-08:00

In what’s become her favorite class, Jaycee Hanson sits behind Tyler Johnson, ROTC captain and star of most of her erotic fantasies. She doesn’t think he’d ever be interested in her, because in all the time she’s been watching him, she’s never seen him in the company of a white woman. She resigns herself to her thrice-weekly fantasy session during Psych 301.

But when an accidental touch near the end of class turns into an impromptu foot rub, Jaycee is more than willing to follow Tyler wherever he might lead. She doesn’t expect the stairwell.

Tyler isn’t sure what to make of the woman in his arms. She’s smart as well as beautiful. If he’d had any idea before today that she was interested in him, he would have made a move, but each time he looked her way in the past, she avoided his gaze.

Objections to their relationship come from an unexpected source, causing Jaycee to second-guess herself. She and Tyler have more than sexual chemistry, but will it be enough?

New Cave Release - Cari Quinn

2011-01-19T23:23:00.000-08:00

Alana MacGregor craves excitement, but when her sometimes lover dumps her at a popular sex club, she wonders if she’s outgrown her live-fast-and-recover-later lifestyle. The last thing she expects is to run into the nerdy guy she rebuffed in high school—or for him to rock her world in ways no other man ever has.

Hot on the trail of a story, Carter Nicholas can’t believe his luck at encountering the one woman he’s never forgotten. He’s come a long way from being a wall-hugging geek. Now he gets all A’s between the sheets. But can he convince Alana he’s her sure ticket to an unforgettable night—and maybe much more?

Busy Bee

2011-01-19T00:07:00.000-08:00

Oh my LORD, have I been busy. Since Friday last week I’ve been working on cover art. I like to get them done for the month so I haven’t got anything on my mind waiting to be created. A quirk of mine, because I hate to-do lists. I have a to-do list now, but it’s all writing related and nothing is pressing or has a deadline. Phew! I have the urge to write, to get a couple of books finished, but to be honest, the urge isn’t so bad that I’m at the grumpy stage. I also revamped a couple of blogs. Both turned out well, so that’s cool.

I’m behind on writing a couple of reviews, so I must get to that too. My first writing job on the list is getting my two chapters written in the new book with Jaime Samms. The Dreaming currently sits at nearly 68K, and I think we’ll reach our prediction of 80. I love that book. It’s full of weirdness and has a baddie or two, the lovers, Barry and Tag, and an abducted woman whose life changes beyond her imagining. I also need to finish my lion shifter as Sarah Masters—I think I left them hiding from the baddies outside London Zoo. The Victorian het needs finishing, and they were left in a saucy situation. My vampires were left getting ready for a fight scene. In The Dreaming, the woman now needs to act well out of character and do something she would never have contemplated before—but if she doesn’t, there are grave consequences. All such different scenarios. Only The Dreaming appeals at the moment, so tomorrow I’ll start on that.

I got a contract for a short story and saw the mock cover today, which is absolutely LUSH! Dara, the artist at Decadent is a marvel. I wrote a short story for their 1Nightstand anthology, and each book will also be sold as a standalone. Fab!

Me, Tess MacKall and Regina Carlysle have started up a newsletter. It’ll go out around the first of each month, starting February. If you’d like the scoop on what we’re up to, you can join HERE.

Well, I’m off to finish a cover today and then spend the day reading. Have a great day, loves!

Latest News

2011-01-10T12:05:00.000-08:00

Ok, what’s been digging on down in the past week in ND’s life?

Well, last week I had a writing frenzy and wrote a chunk on a new WIP and also penned two short stories. I’ve subbed both the shorts and must get back to the longer book. I know where I want it to go, so that’s cool, it’s just that I have some WIPs on my mind. I know I must finish them but, you know what? I just don’t want to. I’ve not been in the mood to write them for a long time. Every so often I’ll add a few hundred words, but beyond that...meh, they’re just not doing it for me at the moment. So, they can stay in a file until the urge to write them comes back—if it ever does.

I was 38 yesterday. I don’t usually mention my birthday, but this year I decided to stop being such a pleb and smile on the day I was born. I let Facebook pronounce the day I arrived in this world and was staggered by the amount of birthday greetings I received. Amazing. I spent the day writing one of those shorts I mentioned. I was going to read, but I did that today instead. I’ve been reading a couple of series for the Miz Love site and I’m loving them both. Anny Cook’s Mystic Valley Series and Lynne Connolly’s Richard and Rose series. Both amazing sets of books, and once I come to the end of these sets I’m going to be lost.

I went on a raid-the-sales spree with my eldest daughter on Friday. We had much fun in town pretending we were rich and only looking at the sales racks to pass the time, when really we were rooting around for lots of bargains. We found some, oh yes indeed, and had a great time.

And that’s about it, really. What have you been up to?

New Cave Release - Cindy Jacks

2011-01-07T09:42:00.001-08:00

Battling housework, Sandi wonders if the spark in her marriage has disappeared. When her husband interrupts their hot-shower lovin’ to take a call from work, she’s positive the magic is gone.

In an attempt to spice things up, she gets a makeover and sets a date with her hubby for a night of passion and romance. There’s only one problem—Roberto doesn’t show. But all is not lost. Alejandro, a silver-tongued Latin loverboy wrapped in an expensive suit, volunteers to keep her company for the evening. He says all the right—and deliciously wrong—things, leaving Sandi no choice but to see him again…and again and again.

One by one, Alejandro strips away her inhibitions, pushing her to act out her darkest fantasies, desires so private she’s never mentioned them to anyone, not even her husband. Blindfolds, bondage with silk ropes, sex on the roof—nothing is off limits. But everything is not as it seems. The game’s afoot—a love game—rekindling the scorching-hot passion in Sandi and Roberto’s marriage.

Goals for 2011

2011-01-01T02:37:00.001-08:00

Finish current manuscripts by the end of January.

Write a detective thriller novel by the end of April.

Write Frost’s novel and Croft’s novel (characters from Scared/Grave Findings) by this time next year.

Complete three books with Jaime Samms by this time next year (yes, we can do this, Jaime!).

Lose 26 pounds by June.

New Cave Release - Nicole Austin

2010-12-31T09:54:00.000-08:00

A book in the Corralled series.

Brock is cool, calm and in control. Except when it comes to the feisty hellion who pushes all his buttons for the sheer fun of watching his patience snap. Far worse than the intense desire to choke her is the alarming, all-consuming compulsion to tie Tink to his bed and fuck her into next week.

Tink is no wimpy damsel waiting for a big, strong man to rescue her or take over her life. Oh, hell no. She does her own thing, her own way, when she damn well feels like it. The last thing she wants or needs is some overbearing man bossing her around. Though she’d like to torture him with pleasure.

One night of explosive passion—starting with smokin’-hot lovin’ involving three men and one lucky woman—pushes Brock’s restraint past the limit. And hidden behind the cold-hearted bitch, he discovers a woman who longs to surrender to a man she can trust.

Come hell or high water, he’s going to be that man.

New Cave Release - Lynne Connolly

2010-12-29T13:06:00.000-08:00

A book in the Cougar Challenge series.

After working with sexy consultant Verill Harper for three months, Lacey Rezanov can hardly keep her hands to herself. And it seems Verill feels the same way. As soon as his contract with her company ends, he has her in a hold she has no desire to break.

Encouraged by the sassy women of the Tempt the Cougar blog, Lacey has the fling of her life with this younger man. They only have a month before Verill is due to set off on an around-the-world bike ride. Can they cram all that passion into a few weeks? No.

Verill wants Lacey more than any other woman he’s ever met, but she won’t agree to come with him. This isn’t just a pleasure trip and he can’t cancel. The heat is turned way up when Lacey poses with Verill and his mechanic Dene at a photo shoot to promo the tour. Even that can’t persuade Lacey to change her mind. Can anything?

Out today! Scared by Sarah Masters

2010-12-24T01:57:00.000-08:00

The gangster: Frost hires thugs to kidnap young boys and sells them to punters, making thousands in the lucrative sex trade. He needs taking down, but is anyone out there strong enough to do it?

The employee: Croft works for Frost, looking after the young boys held in captivity. He had been abducted himself, but Frost decided to employ him instead. Will Croft always do Frost’s bidding?

The witnesses: Russell and Toby needed finding. They’d witnessed far too much. Frost isn’t about to let them spill the truth on what he’s really doing on the outskirts of London.

One sex ring, two lovers, and a host of other people, all bound together. All scared.

BUY NOW!

Latest News

2010-12-23T04:33:00.000-08:00

This past fortnight I’ve been a bit quiet because the review site I run, Miz Love Loves Books, took off. It had been up a while, but suddenly word about it got out and we had a flurry of books come in. We’ve all been busy reading, and I’ve been busy maintaining the site and putting the reviews up. I was kept occupied with the promo offer of putting authors’ book covers on the site with links to the buy pages. I also took time out to read too—a couple of ebooks and some prints I’d wanted to read for some time. Having a break from writing has been nice.

I also created two covers for Total E-Bound and will show them off once they are on the coming soon page. I was nervous about starting with a new publisher and agonised for a bit over my covers, but the publisher liked them and so did the authors, so I feel less afraid and more at home now I know my cover style is liked.

As for writing…well, you know how it goes sometimes. The urge to write disappears, and I’ve finally learned not to fight that. I do other things instead that fulfil my creative desires, and so long as I’m “doing” something I’m not going to fret over the lack of words. I sold over 30 books this year in my various names and have written close to 400K, which is mad now I look back on it, and I wonder how I managed that. So I think I’ve written enough to be going along with and when the urge comes back I’ll finish the three books I have which are near completion, a revision of another, and begin yet another that has been brewing in my head since I wrote Scared.

I got a wonderful review of His Beautiful Wench today that made me cry (in a good way) and the reviewer asked that I write a secondary character’s story, something I hadn’t considered—nor did I think anyone would want to know more about her. But now it’s been mentioned, of course, the plot bunny is boiling, and I may well write Matilda’s story next year.

Also this week I’ve had two short, free tales come out, Christmas ones, so if you’re interested in those, one written by Natalie, one by Sarah, you can get them here: Caught Naked and Wanton and Wicked.

Well, Christmas is rapidly approaching, but to me this is like any other week. I’ve been very busy and haven’t had time to think about the weekend. I only just remembered I needed to get the turkey out to defrost and that I have still to buy potatoes, carrots and some beer. So, after putting up this post, I think I need to get into some form of Christmas spirit and get along with all things festive.

May you all have a great Christmas, loves!

New Cave Release - Lily Harlem

2010-12-17T12:23:00.000-08:00

One hundred grand to babysit bad boy Logan “Phoenix” Taylor on a paradise island—seriously, how bad could he be?

Frankly, it didn’t matter. Not when it would make my dreams of going to nursing school possible. I wasn’t even expected to talk to him, just hang out in a luxurious villa on a private beach and study. Simple, right?

But I hadn’t counted on Logan being so deliciously bad that he was oh so good. And when the temperature cranked to boiling point, he knew just how to satisfy the deepest, darkest part of my soul and give my body exactly what it needed. Amongst the sand and waves, we transported each other to an exquisite world of pleasure where only we existed, only we mattered.

But the heady mix of emotions and lust couldn’t keep things from spiraling out of control back in reality, where I had to keep the secret that I’d been hired to entertain him…even if it shattered my delicate heart. Even if it cost my destiny.

New Cave Release - Anny Cook

2010-12-17T11:48:00.000-08:00

Book 5 in the Mystic Valley series.

When ex-soldier Poussé receives an unexpected job offer from the mysterious Waterloo Group, she doesn’t question the providential timing. Twelve hours later she wishes she had, when she’s captured by two sexy blue-skinned warriors—Jonson and Mali of Mystic Valley.

Mali and Jonson make her an offer she can’t refuse—become their bond mate. Positive she can use the new relationship to escape, Poussé accepts, but she doesn’t count on the physical changes the bonding creates or her constant desire for Jonson and Mali. Their tender touches, hot kisses and even hotter sex get under her skin—which is turning blue! As they pursue other escaped team members, she learns real love and desire have no color barriers…and carnal games are best indulged with two hot bond mates.

All Good Things Come to Those Who Wait

2010-12-15T03:14:00.000-08:00

So I subbed my rejected book yesterday to another publisher and got a fast response. An R & R—revise and resubmit for those new to the term—with the golden words telling me what was wrong with the book. Man, I was so glad to get that email. As I said yesterday, it’s hard for us to see our own mistakes, and I just COULD NOT SEE where that book had gone wrong, although I knew something was off. That’s frustrating, isn’t it? Being in that situation? It’s like: Look, Book, there’s something up with you, and I can’t fix it because I just can’t work out what the deal is.

Well, now I do, thanks to a fabulous editor who, in one sentence, gave me a lightbulb moment. Then, after I replied with my thanks, she followed up on an easy fix—much easier than the difficult overhaul my mind came up with. I tell you, I’ve never understood authors who don’t like outside input on their books. Sometimes I take the harder route on revisions, and if I was stubborn and said, “No, this is MY baby, not yours!” I’d be putting myself through a shitload of extra work next year when I come to revise the book. The editor’s suggestion was so easy, so obvious—damn my blinkers!—that I’ll have the book fixed in no time.

It doesn’t even matter if, when I resubmit, it gets a rejection, because I’d have had the chance to grow and learn some more—something I love about this profession—so the work I’ll be putting in will be well worth my time and effort. But I’m left frustrated at myself because of my failure to SEE. Yes, we get close to our books, I know that, but for God’s SAKE! Why can I see things in other people’s manuscripts yet at times, with mine, I can’t? It bugs the hell out of me.

Still, with valuable people like that editor on the planet, we authors can’t go wrong so long as we take their advice in the spirit it was meant—to help us.

I’m so pleased my book may not end up in a forgotten file. I’ll get Christmas out of the way, hopefully finish my vampire book, and then dig in with revising the story I thought would never see the light of day.

Ah, happy days!

On another subject, but related… Today I received a contract that was a surprise to me because it was electronic. I’ve never had one of those before, and it’s just too cool for words. You get to either have a standard “handwritten” font when you click to sign, or you can sign it yourself using the mouse. It’s so immature of me, but I was well excited by this contract. It’s too groovy, and I hope I’m lucky enough to get more contracts from this publisher just so I can sign my name with my mouse! HA HA!

Yes, I think I need to get out more…

On another fabulous note—man, things are just happening for me at the moment, WOOT!—I have been asked if I would like to create cover art for Total E-Bound. What a lovely thing to be asked. Of course, I can’t say no to that! What more could I ask for? I get to write and also indulge in my other love—Photoshop.

And, you know, sometimes there is someone or something looking out for us. The other day I needed just 50p to put toward my boys’ dinner money. I had the cash in the bank, but I didn’t want to draw out a tenner just for that 50p, because you know how it is, that tenner would have just disappeared once it got into my grubby little hands. I didn’t want to use the remaining £9.50 that would, to be honest, have just been whittled away on stuff like sweets for the kids or a bottle or two of Coke, when it was supposed to be paying some bill or other. And guess what? As I walked along, I’m buggered if there wasn’t a shiny silver 50p on the ground. Usually it’s pennies, or if you’re lucky, a whole 2p (LOL), but that day it was 50p. I wondered, as I am wont to do, about fate and all that jazz, and how things work out in the end if you just have faith, and at the moment I’m inclined to believe that’s true. Okay, there have been times in the past where I’d swear that was bullshit, and I’m sure there will be times in the future I think that too, but d’you know, life is just effing great for me right now, and although part of me thinks “About time too!” (long story…you don’t wanna know!) I am truly grateful for this sudden turn of events.

I’m grateful, humbled, blessed and just so pleased that the “good stuff” is going on.

I hope all good things come to you guys too. That all your dreams and needs are met. That if things have been poo, they pick up 100%. We all deserve some goodness from time to time, eh?

Have a great day, folks!

The Dreaded R

2010-12-14T03:02:00.000-08:00

Rejection. Does it bother you? I can’t say I’m particularly fussed by it one way or another. I received what some may say is the dreaded R this morning and submitted it elsewhere right away. What one publisher doesn’t want, another might. Then, if it’s rejected again, it’s time to have an objective look at the book and try to figure out why it was rejected. Not all publishers have time to give feedback as to why they didn’t want your book—understandable when there are only so many hours in the day, and then if the publisher/editor gives a reason, it opens up the floodgates for an email discussion that the publisher/editor doesn’t have time for, and then the possibility of, “Oh, whyyyyyyyyy? Can you just look at my book again? He did this because of this, and she acted this way because, because, because...” Been there as an editor myself, and it can be hard to extricate yourself from this type of interaction. But, on the author side of the fence, we can be left in a quandary as to what needs changing in the rejected book. As we all know, it’s not always easy to see our own mistakes, and it isn’t until an editor points them out and we slap our foreheads that we see the glaring errors.

Still, if at first I don’t succeed...and if at second I don’t succeed...and if on the third try I don’t succeed... But on the fourth time out, that book isn’t going anywhere but my files, where I’ll let a good length of time go by before I look at it again. Of course, it may well just be utter shite and no amount of revising will help, but hey, that’s the way of things sometimes.

On another note, the big freeze that was due to arrive yesterday…didn’t. Of course it didn’t. I suspect the weatherman’s prediction will come true days after he said it would, but if I hadn’t gone food shopping yesterday, you can bet your ass it would have snowed overnight so I couldn’t get into town today. Such is life!

This morning I spent a little time creating some cover art, and now I think I need to get back to a WIP and write a fight scene I’ve been putting off. It might not be as bad as I’m thinking it will be. A new day brings new perspective and all that.

Well, that’s all from me today, loves. Hope you have a great one yourself!

I'll believe it when I see it... The Big Freeze

2010-12-12T23:59:00.000-08:00

Apparently we have “another” big freeze on the way. If the last one—about an inch of snow, some frost, and a cold snap—constitutes a “big freeze” then all will be well. However, according to the online newspaper, we’re maybe looking at an 8 inch dump. Now, that didn’t sound too nice, did it, but of course, I meant snow.

I had planned to go food shopping tomorrow but, even though I roll my eyes at those people who run to the shops when an upcoming big freeze is announced and buy everything in sight, I’m going to have to do the same. The weatherman usually gets it wrong around here, but knowing my luck, if I think he will again, he’ll get it right this time. I get my shopping dropped off by the shop’s delivery service, and going by last year, if there’s snow, they won’t deliver. Hence me having to go shopping today so I get my food brought to my door before those eight inches make an appearance. (Please don’t. I don’t really dig the white stuff.)

Last week I was able to write after a stint on revamping blogs for fellow authors. I managed 10K adding to a previously finished novella, introducing two secondary characters in the prologue so they play a bigger part throughout the book. I stopped at a fight scene, so I have that to get along with this week. Not relishing the prospect, but there you go. I write myself into these situations and have to write myself out of them.

At the weekend I had a fight with my Sarah Masters website and lost all the front page data. It said there had been an “error” when I saved my latest addition to the page, then promptly scoffed all my book pics, blurbs, and buy now links. I wanted to cry, thought about putting them all back on and decided that no, I wasn’t going through that again if the web hoster was acting up. So I just added my book covers instead and hope that those who visit the site are motivated enough to go browsing for my books by themselves until I get back to adding links to each picture. Who says the damn hosting site will behave when I get around to doing that? I really need to get a .com and have all my names in one place. Less stress when updating.

So, that’s it from me today. It’s 07:51 and I really must get the little one up and out to school, then into town, and finally back home where I can relax and await the promised inches of snow. Oh joy.

Wherever you are, whatever the weather, have a great day today, loves!

Think Kink

2010-12-07T01:34:00.000-08:00

I’ve said before on Four Strong Women: I don’t like change. It takes me a while of thinking about something before I actually do it. I stay with the same publishers because it’s comfortable, and every so often—maybe once a year haha—I venture “out there” and sub elsewhere. On Saturday, after speaking with Tess MacKall, who had great things to say about Total E-Bound, I subbed my 10K tale, Think Kink. I think I got the fastest acceptance I’ve ever had from a new publisher—2 days. Yesterday I got a contract offer. Sue Swift said some lovely complimentary things about the tale, and I sat thinking: Is she talking about MY book? Funny. I’ll never get used to this business. Every sub to a new place has my belly in knots.

Ever since receiving that email, I’ve had that icky feeling I get when I’m venturing into something or someplace I’ve never been before. I joined the groups there and have that “new girl” feeling, where you wonder how the other authors will take you, whether you’ll “fit”. So far I’ve had some lovely welcomes, so I’m happy, even if still a bit nervous.

Think Kink is a ménage. I had no plans to write one, but Tess and Regina Carlysle goaded me into trying. I must say I enjoyed writing it—whether it was because it was new territory for me, something different from my usual, I don’t know, but it came together pretty fast and I didn’t stall once. I may possibly write another—the characters are left where I could make a series out of them. Not sure. I don’t want to commit in case my effort was a one off.

So, I’m also waiting on a response from another publisher I’ve had my eye on for a long time, but I’m expecting a rejection. The lady there who reads the subs is, from what I’ve gleaned, very hard to please. *bites nails* She knows what she wants and what’s right for the market. If I get a contract offer there, I think I’ll throw up. Nice. But I still have a few weeks left of waiting time for that one—14 weeks from sub to hearing from them.

Well, that’s my latest news. Whatever you’re doing today, have a good one!

An E Reader...At Last

2010-12-06T10:59:00.000-08:00

Gem Sivad's Five Card Stud on my funky e-reader. Buy this book. You won't regret it, trust me! (Ellora's Cave... BUY HERE! GO! NOW!)

For around 4 long years I’ve wanted an e-reader, and yesterday I finally got one. When they first came out, I wasn’t prepared to pay the price they were—not when I could buy a brand new computer for the same money. So I waited. And waited. Until the price went right down as I knew they would. I mean, think back to the price of a DVD player then compared to now.

I chose the Sony pocket reader. Five-inch screen and a groovy pink, a veritable beaut of hand-held goodness. The first book I loaded on there was Gem Sivad’s Five Card Stud…and I haven’t looked back. First, the book is bloody excellent so far, and second, the screen appears just like a book page. The only downside is it doesn’t have a backlight—something I discovered once I got it home—but considering the price, I’m not complaining.

So, I’m a happy camper now. Reading e-books on the computer or laptop didn’t really do it for me. It was too much like looking at a manuscript and reminded me of my editing days, so I tended to switch into editor mode instead of reader mode. Now I’m just a reader, and I can’t say enough how wicked this e-reader is. It even makes little bookmarks as though I’d turned down the page corner myself, and you can make typed notes or handwritten ones with the stylus. There’s a dictionary too. Can’t you just tell I love it?

The saying is true. All good things come to those who wait!

Writing...At Last!

2010-12-04T01:04:00.000-08:00

Sometimes I like taking time off from writing. It gets to the point where I sit here procrastinating rather than continuing my tales. Time wasting. Internet browsing. However, there’s also the opposite, when I’m busy with other things and can’t write, and I get the need to creeping up on me, characters from books starting to chatter: Oi, have you forgotten about me? I’ve been left stuck in a tree for a month. My arms are aching! OR: Hey, you left me in a delicate position. I must be the only man on the planet to have maintained a state of excitement for two weeks!

Yeah, yeah, I heard the whispers, and now they’re up to “normal” voice volume. Thankfully, today I can write and stop them getting to the shouting stage. The shouting stage isn’t nice, because by that time I’m so frustrated I can’t write due to other jobs that need doing first, that I become a total grouch. Depressed, angry, everything annoys me, etc. I’ve finished a few projects I had on the go and, despite having two more things on my to-do list, I’m taking the weekend to write.

I’ve had Jaime Samms’ chapters of our latest novel sitting in my to-do email folder for a little while now. It’s been waving every time I go in there to check what needs doing next. Asking me to open it. Go on, just peek. For a minute… But I knew if I peeked, I’d write and forget about the to-do list.

Last night I peeked. And yep, I’ve forgotten about the to-do list. Jaime has taken the book in a very cool direction that ties in very nicely with my previous chapters. I can’t help it, can’t resist. I’m diving in to write about my heroine’s situation and my bad guy’s dilemma, bringing all the characters together for Jaime to deal with when I send it back. (Mwhahahaha!)

This book is called The Dreaming and should reach about 80+K by the time we’re done. A veritable m/m delight that delivers two cop lovers, a ballsy heroine, and a mixed-up killer. Oh, and also a mixed-up female who came along a little while back, plus a whole realm of people who aren't of this world… It’s a thriller, drama, paranormal, horror, romance…a good old mixture of genres that blend very well.

I love it. So now I’m going to get on with it!

Can we shout hooray? Yeah? HOORAY!

Have a great weekend!

New Cave Release - Elizabeth Lapthorne

2010-12-03T08:27:00.001-08:00

Book 1 in the Urban Seduction series.

Amber Sinclair’s life is perfectly average until she crashes headlong—literally—into Zerachiel Garrett. He is hands-down the sexiest man she has ever met. What begins as a sexually charged first encounter soon explodes into far more than she could have imagined.

Zerachiel is a on a mission to Retrieve the ancient cuff Amber is delivering. It was supposed to be a simple task, but nothing ever is, and he certainly wasn’t counting on the electric lust that sizzles between them. Discovering he isn’t the only one after the cuff, Ze kidnaps Amber and they have to work together not only to stay alive, but to keep the cuff safe.

And Zerachiel is no ordinary man—he’s a wizard who introduces Amber to an underground world of magic and mystery living on the streets of Chicago she thought she knew. Together they discover a whole new world of love and lust, as the sparks fly between them.

Paranormal Activity Review

2010-12-03T04:12:00.000-08:00

So, after hearing the hype about Paranormal Activity 2, we watched the first one last night. I’ll admit to being bored for the first half, found it a bit overdone with the “we’re showing you how much we make this look just like a home movie” angle. Yeah, much like looking at other people’s holiday snaps. Really boring. I “got” the idea in the first ten minutes. No need to bash me over the head with the tedious showing of their life prior to catching the demon on tape.

Once the first night of catching footage began, the boredom lifted a little, but I still had the urge to wander outside for a cigarette or bugger off into the kitchen to make a cup of tea, maybe even a massive chicken roast dinner while I was at it… Anyway, we soldiered on, and around ¾ of the way in, the film finally got going. I got chills, goose bumps, and, when the demon lifted the bedsheet, I reached out to grip Hubby’s thigh.

The guy, Micah, irritated me. Even after having irrefutable proof that something nasty was messing with them, he still antagonised the demon and encouraged it to come after them. Of course, his actions don’t justify him being killed, I don’t mean it like that, but I do wonder if he’d just left it alone whether the demon would have remained quieter without going as far as it did.

The spookiest bit for me was when the woman, Katie, stood beside the bed for hours, unaware she did so. And also the knowledge that the demon had possessed her. Where did she go after killing Micah? Did her possession change her into a “being” without a body and she went up into the roof space with the original demon? Or is she out there somewhere as a human, still possessed, doing all manner of demonly things to other people? Wondering if film two deals with that.

We went to bed after watching, and my mind lightly churned over all the fascinating aspects of such a thing happening. That many of us could have demons in our houses and not even know it. So of course, even though the film hadn’t freaked me as much as it could have, and I hadn’t given it too much thought, I did wake up in the middle of the night, sat up and wondered if I’d heard a noise or whether something else had woken me. And then I moved to hug Hubby and he woke, gripped my wrist and gasped before falling back to sleep, unaware he’d even done it.

So I guess you could say the movie did its job. Disturbed us, settled in our subconscious, even though we didn’t find it as scary as we’d expected. And I’m not going to be clamouring to watch #2 either. My son said it was “horrible”. LOL

Lovin' the New Blog!

2010-12-02T08:54:00.001-08:00

Hi gang!

This is the last time I'm revamping my blog for a while...promise! I've finally settled on one that makes me want to squeal with "ooooh-ness" every time I look at it. I spent the day creating the background and all the other bits and bobs that go with it, and now I'm done. Bloody lush!

Ahhhh. I finally feel like my site "fits" the Natalie Dae name.

:o)

Snow... Love it or hate it?

2010-12-02T02:52:00.000-08:00

Come and join me, blogging as Sarah Masters, on Four Strong Women today!

HERE!

New Cave Release - Gem Sivad

2010-12-01T10:06:00.000-08:00

When bounty hunter Sam McCallister sees Eden Pace playing poker for the first time, he loses all interest in the cards; instead, the thought of playing stud with the lady gambler stirs his cock to life. Eden’s the prettiest woman and the best card sharp Sam’s ever met. Good thing he has a few cards up his sleeve.

Eden’s doing her own outlaw hunting. She’s on the trail of her husband’s killer and Sam’s in her way. To get free of this hardheaded, softhearted, gorgeous man, Eden tries strip poker and naked truth-or-dare, but when Sam ups the stakes, carnal submission and desire are unleashed.

When Sam discovers Eden’s wanted for murder, he figures his bed is the safest place for her. But taking Eden prisoner isn’t as easy as Sam expects. He’s in a high-stakes poker game with lust on the table and his heart on the line, because one taste of Eden just isn’t enough.

Win a Prize Every Weekday Before Christmas!

2010-11-30T11:15:00.000-08:00

Be sure to stop by Three Wicked Writers Plus Two every day from Dec 1st until Christmas. You can win a prize every darn weekday. WOOT!

5 Stupid Things

2010-11-26T01:53:00.001-08:00

Come and join me over at Three Wicked Writers Plus Two and tell me all about the silly things you've done in and around the home!

http://threewickedwriters.blogspot.com/2010/11/five-stupid-things.html

:o)

New Cave Release - Jambrea Jo Jones

2010-11-24T09:57:00.000-08:00

Ambrose Firth hated high school, so why is he contemplating going to his fifteen-year reunion? One name—Noah Winters. Noah stars in many of Ambrose’s wet dreams, but the man was a jock, and in high school, Ambrose was a geek. Not anymore. But he isn’t dating anyone either. Not wanting to seem desperate, he does what any self-respecting gay man would—he hires an escort.

Noah is everything Ambrose remembered—and then some. With a little push from his “date”, Ambrose determines to decipher the mixed messages Noah’ s been sending all night. Imagine Ambrose’s surprise when Noah can’t keep his hands off him. But Ambrose wants more than just a romp. Noah better hold on for a steamy reunion.

New Cave Release - Cris Anson

2010-11-24T09:54:00.000-08:00

A story in the Cougar Challenge series.

Encouraged by friends she met at RomantiCon, widowed landscape contractor Giselle Sheridan decides she’s finally ready to take the cougar challenge and explore sex with a younger man. Except she’s too busy during planting season to go on the prowl.

CPA Conlan Trowbridge is battling the IRS deadline for his clients, but when Giselle saunters into his office with a tax question, all he can think of is sex. She’s all luscious curves and smoldering brown eyes, and he doesn’t care if she’s a dozen years older, she’s a wet dream come true.

Oh yeah, they’re both ready for some hot and heavy sex—in the tub, parking lots, their offices—anywhere and everywhere. But Giselle is afraid her age will eventually bother Con, and her longtime foreman also has designs on her, in more ways than one. When Giselle faces some hard decisions, will she ultimately be able to keep the heat?

Contemplation & New Sarah Masters Release

2010-11-19T03:17:00.000-08:00

Hiya!

I'm blogging about contemplation over at Three Wicked Writers Plus Two today. What gives you pause for thought?

Also, my alter-ego, Sarah Masters, has a new release out today. Wildfire, book 4 in my m/m Blinded series. WOOT!

Ryan takes Lee away to recuperate, but once again, someone from their past catches up with them.

Blurb:

After Lee leaves hospital to further recover from being shot, Ryan takes them on a long weekend. They stay in a hotel and enjoy one another’s company, taking strolls on the beach and eating in the local pub. During one beach walk, one of their old adversaries shows up, letting Ryan and Lee know in no uncertain terms that the gang leader hasn’t finished with them yet.

Ryan has always brushed off the fact that some people are anti-gay, but now he is forced to accept that as much as he wishes people would just leave them alone, you don’t always get what you wish for

New Cave Release - Chastity Vicks

2010-11-17T23:29:00.000-08:00

After a long, dull week, Jenny is more than ready for some sexy fun with her sexy husband. It’s their two-year anniversary and Matt’s bound to have something special for her—but when Jenny unwraps his gift, the real surprises start coming.

Matt presents her with a remote-controlled vibrator…and a challenge. Can she make it through their celebration dinner at a local restaurant, knowing he has the power—and the battery-operated means—to leave her gasping in front of a room full of people?

With Matt in charge of the remote, Jenny learns just how good being completely in his hands can be.

New Cave Release - Lex Valentine

2010-11-12T03:52:00.000-08:00

Rock star Gia Santora is at the height of her career when a frightening brush with a psychotic stalker changes her life. Three years later, she’s ready for more than a string of one-night stands on the road, but finding a date isn’t easy for a woman with a bodyguard. When she meets her sexy young opening act, he pushes all her buttons, sexually and emotionally.

Sin Carstens is rock’s hottest new guitar god with a body and a voice to match his name. He takes Gia on a wild sexual ride that has them literally rockin’ the tour bus. But Sin’s got priorities other than music and sex. He wants a relationship with the commitment-shy Gia. When the stalker gets loose and their lives are on the line, Gia pushes Sin away. But Sin’s willing to fight Gia’s fears in an effort to win himself the sexiest woman he’s ever known, and prove that he can rock her world.

Blog Revamp & Cover Competition

2010-11-12T03:11:00.000-08:00

For a chance to win a blog revamp and a book cover, head over to Three Wicked Writers Plus Two and toss your name in my woolly winter hat!

New Cave Release - Cindy Jacks

2010-11-11T04:22:00.001-08:00

Just when Lila has resigned herself to the fact the most exciting chapters of her life are over, a blast from the past walks into her bakery. Six feet of gorgeousness named Gavin drops by as she’s closing up shop. They were once high-school sweethearts and it’s been more than twenty-five years since they’ve seen each other, but time hasn’t diminished the sweet heat between them. Soon enough the sparks—and the frosting—begin to fly.

As they rediscover each other’s bodies, it’s clear Gavin’s no longer a boy as he shows Lila the man and skillful lover he’s become. Though Lila knows this whirlwind romp could be an act of insanity, his touch unleashes the sensual woman she’s forgotten she could be. And she thinks—maybe—she has one more leap in her.

New Cave Release - Christie Butler

2010-11-10T07:42:00.000-08:00

Nicole Wood has a great marriage. Love? Undying. Respect? Mutual. Sex? Amazing. Mostly.

Nicole is a free spirit, willing to try almost anything. She and her husband, famous author Cameron Wood, have an active and diverse sex life—kinky even. Her exhibitionism and his voyeurism are a perfect match. But lately, Cam seems a bit less interested. And his latest request has knocked her for a loop. He wants to watch her have sex with another man. Nicole has to admit she’s intrigued…and aroused. But she has reservations. She loves Cam and fears it might damage their relationship.

When Cam’s friend Judson Tate shows up at their mountainside home—all smoldering hunkiness and good looks—Cam seems to be pushing Nicole and Jud together. With the trio snowed in, Nicole’s defenses are wearing down. Can she do what her husband wants? Have sex with Judson while Cam watches? What about what she wants? And where will it all end?

Out Today! His Beautiful Wench

2010-11-10T04:46:00.000-08:00

BLURB:

Drawn to the attic in her new home, Amelia finds a saucy nineteenth-century wench dress. At first glance, it’s just a dress, but once she dons it, desire streaks through her and she’s transported to the past. Overwhelmed by lust, she is caught pleasuring herself, discovered by the most gorgeous man she’s ever seen, who turns out to be—her lover?

Amelia and Emmet join in an explosive sexual union, erasing the months—or is it centuries?—they have been apart as though they never existed. But suddenly Amelia awakes—alone.

Until the dress calls again.

Emmett’s not the only one lusting after Amelia. Lord Graham wants her and he doesn’t fight fair. He kidnaps her, sends Emmett on a deadly errand and forces Amelia to participate in his voyeuristic games. Although Amelia’s body betrays her, she vows to remain true to Emmett, but will he return? And can she escape the clutches of Lord Graham’s debauchery? Amidst subterfuge, treachery and murder, Amelia and Emmet’s love grows and they reach new heights of carnal passions.

EXCERPT:

Emmett ignored her, only sliding his hands to span her stomach. His mouth covered one nipple, teeth lightly nipping, and the shock nearly had her opening her eyes. He sucked, tugging on the taut peak the way she liked, as she knew he would. She cried out, almost reaching her pain threshold. Emmett eased the pressure a little, then sucked and reared his head back once more, the torment too much for her, too intense.

“Stop, I…”

He let her nipple go. It ached, and despite wanting the sweet torture to end, she longed for more. As though picking up on her thoughts, he tongued her nipple, sucking it as before. Amelia clasped her hands together tighter, wanting to cry out yet at the same time testing herself to see how far she could go. He pulled harder, his fingers stroking her waist, circling her navel, and she clenched her cunt, willed herself not to gasp.

She failed, snatching in air.

Breast free of his mouth, she lifted her pelvis, needing him to cater to her throbbing bud. The mattress dipped again as he shuffled his knees farther down the bed then settled between her legs, the heat of his breath on her slit forcing the air out of her lungs. Her torso juddered beneath his questing fingers and she itched to pinch her nipples. Instead, she squeezed her hands again. His tongue parted her. The tip swirled around her nub and a blaze of sensation warmed the folds.

“Oh God, Emmett…”

“I’m going to sup your cream. Lick you, make you want me so much you can’t breathe.”

He flattened his tongue, licking her with quick strokes, fingers smoothing down her body to widen her slit. She bucked as he worked faster, exquisite waves of pleasure ebbing and flowing in and around her bud. Panting, she writhed, unclasping her hands and gripping the headboard spindles. She dug her nails into her palms, the bite adding to her excitement. Tongue flicking from side to side, Emmett brought her to the brink of orgasm then stopped, kissing her mound and her lower belly. She hissed out between clenched teeth, frustrated but knowing when he touched her there again the pleasure would be stronger. He took his mouth from her belly and didn’t move. She waited, eyes still closed, and listened to the sounds around them—their breaths, a creaking bed downstairs, faint moans from customers, footsteps on the wooden floor below. She longed to open her eyes, to see whether he studied her, but at the same time not knowing suited her. And she waited, her heart picking up speed, her wet nub throbbing in time with it. God, how she wanted to let go and slide her hands into his hair, pushing his mouth down onto her slit, directing his movements and orchestrating the pressure. To tell him to sup her now, beg if she had to. But she remained silent, confident he knew exactly when to begin again.

At last, movement! He hooked his hands beneath her buttocks and lifted her, setting her lower half on his thighs. His balls rested against her ass, their softness and warmth arousing her beyond measure. Emmett brushed his hands up and down her legs, thumbs skating close to her thatch each time he reached the top. When he drew away she almost cried out in frustration, wanting more of the touch of his fingertips beside her mound. He leaned back to caress her shins, then her calves and she loosed a strangled moan. God, he teased her so! She needed his hands higher up, at her nub, which pulsed and swelled with every passing second. Sliding his hands beneath her knees, he pushed so her legs bent and she placed her feet beside him on the bed. He spread her legs and she could only imagine the sight of herself open for his viewing.

“Beautiful, wench. Beautiful.”

Her stomach flipped at the hoarseness of his voice, a voice that belied the fact he was in control. He was close, she sensed it, and it wouldn’t be long before he could hold back no longer and plunged inside her. She hoped it would be soon, because she was close to coming herself. The slowness of his actions had brought her to a high state of arousal, and just the slightest touch now might send her over the edge.

Thumbs sliding up and down each lip of her slit, Emmett tortured Amelia some more. She jolted, eyes nearly springing open, and waited to feel what he would do next. He placed his thumbs together then glided them down to her opening, easing them inside with his fingers splayed over her mound. He pressed his thumbs and fingers together, her pelvic bone in between, and moved his thumbs up and down the upper wall of her sheath. Suddenly, he curved his thumb tips and touched something deep inside her, a place he had never been before. A sharp sensation had her abdomen jerking and she almost, almost opened her eyes.

“Did you like that?” he asked, dragging his thumbs down then returning them to that place, pressing there with his fingers.

The sensation came again, and now he concentrated on the area, rubbing what felt like a ridge inside her. She nodded, wondering what would happen if he kept stroking. Amelia didn’t have to wait long before successive shots of fierce pleasure momentarily took away her ability to breathe.

“I told you I’d take away your breath. Good. That feels good, doesn’t it, wench?”

She nodded and gasped, riding out the new feelings his thumbs produced. As the bite receded, her bud still throbbing and in need of attention, he eased his thumbs out and gripped her waist. Without warning, he thrust his cock inside her, fucking her hard and fast. She clenched her sheath around him, gripped the bed spindles tighter and gave in to the rising tide.

“Ah, wench!” he ground out.

His firm thrusts nudged her up the bed and she crossed her ankles at his lower back, her whole body tingling with excitement. Juices coated his cock, the length of him gliding in and out easily, the aroma of sex heightening her desire. She came, bucking, keening, emotions running so high they overwhelmed her with their intensity. Emmett’s low moans and grunts brought on another wave of pleasure and her cunt ached with it. Wet heat filled her and her lover loosed a strangled yell, pushing into her with short jabs as he emptied himself into her contracting sheath. He slowed to a stop and lowered his body to hers, brushing her cheeks with sweet kisses.

Amelia opened her eyes, staring into his. Love shone from him and she wanted so much to tell him how she felt, but the words wouldn’t come, halted by the lump in her throat.

I love you, Emmett Dray. Love you…

BUY NOW!

New Cave Release - Lily Harlem

2010-11-09T06:14:00.001-08:00

Is it possible to lose one’s ability to orgasm? Nina has. Lately, her fun weekend hook-ups have been more ho-hum than hot damn! It doesn’t help that she has three flatmates and is forced to play loud music to mask the sounds of her lovemaking. Talk about distracting! Of course, there’s another reason Nina’s less than satisfied these days…she’s just having a hard time admitting it.

It’s a good thing she’s met Ian, then. Not content to be a weekend hook-up, Ian is set on giving Nina what she’s been missing while making her admit what she needs. His talented fingers—and other body parts—are up to the task. But Ian’s not admitting a few things himself. Turns out his fingers can do more than make Nina’s body sing.

When she discovers his secret, it’s time for both of them to face the music.

BUY NOW!

Camel's Toe and Angst...All Before 9 a.m.!

2010-11-08T01:38:00.000-08:00

Hi gang! I'm blogging at my Sarah Masters blog today. See you THERE?

Horror Author Daniel I. Russell

2010-11-06T01:21:00.000-07:00

TODAY WE HAVE SOMETHING A LITTLE DIFFERENT. WHILE I’M NOT ONE FOR SALES PITCHES, I RECENTLY MET A GENTLEMEN WHO PIQUED MY CURIOSITY REGARDING AN EMERGING SOCIAL NETWORK. MOVE OVER FACEBOOK! I ASKED HIM TO BE A GUEST ON THE BLOG. LET’S SEE WHAT HE HAS TO SAY.

CAN YOU TELL ME A LITTLE SOMETHING ABOUT YOUR ORGANISATION?

Of course, and thank you for having me!
All I have to do is ask: have you ever wanted…more?
Of course you have! It’s human nature to look at our simple lives, perhaps the plain wife in front of the television and the ugly brats that are fighting over the meagre crumbs your worthless employment can provide. Does this sound like you? Then read on, friend!
We here at the Cult of Zandathru…

LET ME STOP YOU THERE. CULT? WE HEAR SUCH HORROR STORIES ABOUT CULTS NOWADAYS. NOT GOING TO OFFER ME KOOLAID ARE YOU?

No, no. Let me explain. The word cult in the Cult of Zandathru is merely a term. Consider it as a friendly group of people. We have no religious connotations nor connections. You will not be required to attend church, pray or sing hymns. We also don’t have any religious texts that you are to meticulously study. We put the ult back into cult, ult being the neo-anglo-saxon term for fun!

SO THERE IS NO RELIGIOUS COMMITMENT?

Well, Zandathru is the ancient god of chaos, but it’s more like a figurehead. Something for the Cafepress t shirts and mugs.

SO IF THE CULT OF ZANDATHRU HAS NO RELIGIOUS BACKGROUND, WHAT’S IT ALL ABOUT? I’M INTRIGUED!

Our members believe in themselves. If you want something, why shouldn’t you have it? Don’t we all work hard enough to get what we want? The Cult of Zandathru is also firmly established in the new world of telecommunications, and we regularly have members meet and trade ideas online. We also broadcast directly to members over the net via our subscription service. That side of the business is run by a chap we call Demon, as he’s a demon when it comes to technology! Demon has a very impressive set up at our Orchard House site in the quaint old town of Samhane. Subscribers are guaranteed the upmost in download times, hi-res video and and a wide band width, whatever that means!

AND WHAT DO YOU PROVIDE?

Let me ask you something. What would you want providing?

FOR A STREAMING SITE? I WOULD EXPECT MUSIC, SPORT, THE LATEST MOVIES…

I think we’re being a little modest! What would you really want to see? Any fantasy can be provided. Any sin of the flesh imaginable can be broadcast live into your own living room…

AH, SO YOU RUN A PORN SITE?

The term porn is so…tarnished, nowadays. Is it porn to eat caviar and drink champagne in the finest restaurant? Or to scratch an itch that’s been screaming for attention? No, I don’t think it is. We cater for any taste, and subscribers can even email their requests in live during the broadcast. Please bear in mind that none of the broadcasts are morally wrong in any way. We have members who even watch with their children! We love the little tykes, and they enjoy the interactivity of the shows. Children are the future, after all.

CAN YOU CONFIRM THAT THE CULT OF ZANDATHRU IS TIED WITH BELVEDERE LTD, OR MORE SPECIFICALLY JOSEPH BELVEDERE? THE GRANDSON OF CHARLES BELVEDERE, FOUNDER OF SAMHANE?

No comment.

THE BROADCASTS SOUND GREAT. IT WOULD BE NICE TO FIND SOMETHING MY YOUNG SON AND I CAN DO TOGETHER. HOW DO I FIND OUT MORE?

The next step would be to pick up a copy of the novel Samhane. The Cult of Zandathru employed some hack writer to dress up our practices and make it look like a novel. That way, we can attract the lucrative market of fiction readers. Why waste time reading when you can watch pure pleasure 24/7? But yes, the novel will give potential followers…erm, subscribers a deeper insight into how we operate.

Although just to clarify, the author did go a tad overboard. His accounts of torture-porn, chainsaws, acid, rape, cannibalism and giant, horrific gods are purely artistic license for sales. Unfortunately, not only was the Cult’s reputation tarnished, but sadly the author met a tragic accident shortly after the review copies were sent out. A group broke into his house at night and flayed him in his bed. At least the money we save in royalties can go towards repairing our besmirched reputation! Should you want to know more about this sad and pointless death, we have the video, available to all subscribers. You should see it…boy does he bleed. And the screams? Oh the screams are orgasmic! Almost as good as the time Demon remade the move ‘Drillbit Taylor’ with a girl called Taylor and a drill…

OKAY…I THINK WE”VE HEARD ENOUGH. CAN YOU LEAVE NOW?

I don’t think so. I’ve been here long enough. All this time Demon has been hacking into your blog account. This site now belongs to us!

The pain, the confusion, the brutality,
He invades, He reaps, He destroys,
He answers the cry of your hidden self,
Those are His ways,
So say the Order of Zandathru!

Samhane, available from Stygian Publications, Amazon and other retailers from late November. Visit Stygian at www.necrotictissue.com and keep up with the now skinless author at www.daniel-i-russell.blogspot.com.

Double Blog Day: Hairy Legs & Emotional Moment

2010-11-05T03:53:00.000-07:00

Hi folks!

Today I'm blogging at Four Strong Women about the trials and tribulations regarding waxing...

http://fourstrongwomen.blogspot.com/2010/11/hairy-legs.html

I'm also at Three Wicked Writers Plus Two sharing an emotional moment between myself and my seven-year-old daughter.

http://threewickedwriters.blogspot.com/2010/11/mothers-gift.html

Have a great day!

You Write WHAT?

2010-11-04T03:16:00.000-07:00

Come and join me HERE today and find out some of the reactions I've encountered when I've told someone what I write!

New Cave Release - KB Alan

2010-11-03T09:03:00.000-07:00

Keeping Claire

KB Alan

Claire’s been fantasizing about the owner of her company since she first saw him. Ryan is gorgeous, confident and sexy as hell. In other words, so not her type. With the crazy life she leads, it’s best to stick to men who are happy to do what she tells them to, then disappear. Since Ryan would never abide by those terms, it’s best to keep him right where she’s got him—in her dreams.

Ryan gets up close and personal with Claire while investigating a threat to his company. Once he’s convinced she’s not out to hurt what he’s helped build, he refocuses his more-than-human energies on his intriguing employee. When she quits, insisting it’s best if she leaves town, he’s determined to convince her otherwise. At least long enough to get a taste of her. And the more he tastes, the more he touches, the more he wants. Now he just has to convince Claire that what they have is worth fighting for, and he’s more than up to the task.

Available now at Ellora's Cave!

Snobbery

2010-11-03T03:26:00.000-07:00

I'm blogging all week over at Four Strong Women as Sarah Masters. Today's rant is about snobbery. Come and share your views with me HERE!

Manners and Courtesy

2010-11-02T02:52:00.000-07:00

Today I'm having a bit of a rant HERE. Feel free to drop by and let me know what gets your goat!

New Cave Release - Eliza Lloyd

2010-10-29T04:54:00.000-07:00

Michael Dunnaway has it all—a wife he loves, three sons, an earldom. Except he isn’t getting any younger—and his body lets him know in a way that makes him doubt his masculinity. His impotence with Clarissa drives him to seek out new thrills. He’s contemplating giving up everything for the satisfaction he finds with a nubile French whore, but with the pleasure comes guilt. Is betraying the love of his life worth temporary gratification and the restoration of his confidence?

Clarissa has entered a world of shocking passions and unheard of acts, welcoming Michael with open arms. Hidden behind a mask, and with the help of a whorehouse madam, she finds she’d do just about anything to win her husband back. But will it be enough? And will the deep cravings they explore as strangers reveal more devastating secrets? Or will they discover their dark passion and wicked desires can lead to a greater love?

Adages and an Ebook Giveaway

2010-10-29T01:49:00.000-07:00

Join me on Three Wicked Writers Plus Two for some fun with adages and the guarantee of getting one of my Sarah Masters or Charley Oweson books FREE!

"Coming Out"

2010-10-28T05:26:00.000-07:00

One of the decisions regarding my career that I’ve been struggling with of late is whether to “come out” as my other selves. Today is the day I do that. It’s been hard keeping myself quiet, and I haven’t much liked, while in Natalie Dae mode, speaking to people I know as Emmy Ellis/Sarah Masters/Charley Oweson as though I don’t know them. It’s like deceiving people, and although the whole point of having different pen names is so you can “be” someone else, I realise it isn’t for me.

Thanks to all those people who kept SM/CO/Em a “secret” and, if you guessed they were me by my blog post style, thanks for not emailing and asking if they are me, therefore putting me in a bit of a “spot” on whether to admit it or not.

So, today I jazzed up this site to reflect “me” more instead of someone I’m not. I suppose I did my polkadot site because it’s far removed from who I really am. You know, keeping everyone separate. But now I can be me in all the genres I write.

Did you just hear that clonk? That was a huge weight falling off my shoulders.

Have a great day, folks!

Where Do You Fit?

2010-10-26T11:51:00.000-07:00

Hitting the right genre is sometimes a difficult thing for an author to do. Genre fads change often, so by the time an author has finished a book in the current trend that was all the rage when s/he started, the genre has “gone out of fashion”.

Favourite genres can and do hang around for quite a while at times, though, so if an author can get a book written fast enough, they stand a chance of having their book purchased. The problem is, what if you don’t want to write the genre everyone apparently wants to read? And the question that arises from that is: But are you cutting your nose off to spite your face?

It’s a dilemma many authors face, whether to write what their heart tells them or write what the market/readers want. It’s all well and good if you can write “to order”, being able to switch styles and voices at the drop of a hat, but not everyone can do that. It’s a shame, because lots of writers are kind of left behind when the fads crop up. Conversely, if the fad you love writing the most just happens to be the “in thing”, you have a head start.

Lately, I’ve noticed ménage appears to be a top seller. I have yet to write one—not entirely sure I will either, but you never know—and also the more…hardcore erotic tales. It brought other questions to mind: Is the romance book a dying breed? Or does it just seem the more “out there” books are taking over? (I’d like to say I’m not against “out there” books. Just thinking out loud here.)

Surely not. I don’t believe every reader follows the trends and buys whatever they feel everyone else is reading. There are people out there who like romance without all the bells and whistles.

From my blog browsing and reading comments to various posts, I’ve noticed many people have admitted to skipping the sex so they can get along with the “real” part of the story. So my question is answered, really, in that people don’t always want rampant sex in their reading matter. That’s good to know, because I don’t always want to write books containing rampant sex either. But I have wondered: If people are skipping the sex scenes, are authors just wasting their time writing them?

No. Obviously, not everyone skips. Readers buy the books for the sex scenes too. I think what I’m struggling with at the moment is finding where I “fit” in this ever-growing e-book market. Every book I’ve written so far in this pen name is different (although two feature the 1800s), and I have no clear genre or voice I “belong” in. I wonder: Do I need to belong in one?

It is possible for an author to write in many voices, many genres, and still have a following, where their readers don’t expect a certain book from them, but look forward to whatever has been written. This is where I think I will always be, a bit of this, a bit of that, but I’m interested in other people’s opinions on this. Do you, as an author, have a definite style and genre you stick to? And readers, do you do the same, or are you open to trying anything and everything?

New Cave Release - Annabel Joseph

2010-10-22T06:23:00.000-07:00

Kat doesn’t know whether or how to end her six-night-a-week party habit, not to mention her unhealthy addiction to meaningless sex. Then an accident lands her in the hospital. She wakes to find a menagerie of origami figures—and a gorgeous neurosurgeon—beside her bed. The complexity of the paper creations is nothing compared to the complexity of dark-eyed, authoritative Ryan, who seems determined to give her life some direction. Trouble is, Kat’s just as determined to resist his efforts to tame her wild side.

With persistence, Ryan draws Kat into his world of dominance and submission, where quiet commands and lengths of rope awaken needs and desires she never knew she possessed. But Ryan’s intimate, erotic shibari sessions frighten Kat as much as they excite her, for each simple knot requires infinite trust and inspires complicated emotions.

Then a family crisis tests their love and threatens to snap the fragile ties that bind them. Will fortune ever smile on this unlikely couple, or will fate tear them apart?

Reader Advisory: For those who subscribe to a “more the merrier” philosophy (*cough* we do *cough*), this story contains a scintillating m/f/f/m scene.

Knickers!

2010-10-21T23:38:00.000-07:00

Come and have some fun with me at Three Wicked Writers Plus Two! I'm discussing doing housework when you're not fully clothed! Oooh-eerrr, missus!

I am the Bloody Oracle!

2010-10-15T02:03:00.000-07:00

Come on over to Three Wicked Writers Plus Two and have a whinge and a laugh with me about being the oracle and knowing where everyone's "thingy" is!

New Cave Release - Haven Isley

2010-10-05T05:29:00.000-07:00

Jury Yates is a corporate attorney who has a thing for one of the most powerful men in Memphis—her boss. But there’s a problem with pursuing—and being pursued by—a man with such wealth and power, especially when his family once owned hers. Still, Jury cannot deny her attraction for the CEO of Wainwright Construction, whose hot bod and deep, sexy voice get her juices flowing. Can she find a way to accept that the past is the past and her future is what she makes of it?

Beauregard Charles Wainwright is the epitome of a Southern gentleman. But this modern-day Rhett Butler is more than just a gambler, he is a collector of sorts, acquiring properties and developing multimillion-dollar dreams. So he knows a sweet deal when he sees one. And Jury Yates is awfully sweet. She’s exactly what he wants, and he is determined to have her. Now all that’s left for Beau to do is convince Jury that he shouldn’t have to pay for the sins of his father.

Literary Wordage

2010-10-01T02:04:00.001-07:00

Today I'm over at Three Wicked Writers Plus Two, spilling out a little tale.

New Cave Release - Jocelyn Modo

2010-09-28T05:18:00.000-07:00

Shifter lion Kissa Alassane has finally gone into heat and she has never been consumed by such raging lust. Too bad her lioness is demanding she mate with Venor Brun, a tortured and deadly male with a dark past.

Too bad she can’t keep her hands, lips or any other part of herself off him. They must mate three times to complete their bond. Just once can’t hurt, she figures, just once to soothe her aching need and clear her head.

When once becomes twice, Kissa flees to Austin, Texas, hoping to lose Venor and others tracking her in the big city. But a pride of rogue shifters is killing and turning humans in Austin, and Kissa finds herself thrust into a full-scale battle for survival. And while Venor may be the only male who can save her, he might be the biggest threat of all…especially to her heart.

Jasmine Aherne Interviewed Me!

2010-09-25T10:23:00.001-07:00

Whoop! My crazy-arsed interview with Jasmine Aherne went up today. Please stop by!

Why I Write

2010-09-21T11:34:00.001-07:00

Hi! I'm blogging over at Flirty Author Bitches today about why I write. If you want a chance to win my books, go on over! Bye for now!

New Release - Personal Research by Cari Quinn

2010-09-17T06:04:00.001-07:00

Briefs are Elena Thomas’s life, whether they’re legal at her day job or on the men in the erotic novels she writes. She’s just fine with saving her imagination for her books until temptation appears in the form of Nunzio, the smokin’-hot office IT guy. When he discovers one of her scorching books shooting out of the printer, Elena’s not sure if he wants her because she’s inventive or because he thinks she’s desperate. That doesn’t stop her from taking advantage of his “services”.

On her desk. On the copier. And, oh yeah—in her boss’s chair.

Nunzio’s shocked to learn Elena’s wall-hugging persona hides a wildcat of a woman with delicious fantasies and an enticing wit. She’s exactly what he’s been looking for in an adventurous lover—and girlfriend. He knows she enjoys their sexual research. Now he just has to convince her that sizzling sex is only the first chapter of their blazing-hot romance.

New Release - Luscious by Amanda Sidhe

2010-09-17T05:19:00.001-07:00

A book in the Dominant Blood series.

Luscious earned his nickname as a human servant to an ancient vampire clan. Willingly, he surrenders body and blood to their whims. Yet despite his devotion to his clan, Luscious’ closest bond is with his fellow human servant, Belle. The blonde beauty services the men and woman of the clan as Luscious does. Taboo alone prevents their friendship from developing into the deeper relationship they both crave. But sometimes the allure of the forbidden is too strong to resist.

Then everything shatters with the prick of a fang, putting more than just their hearts in the crosshairs. A dangerous game of deception and betrayal is the only way out, if they can just survive the night together.

Fantasies - Do They Make You Feel Guilty?

2010-09-17T02:13:00.000-07:00

Come on over to Three Wicked Writers Plus Two and tell me how fantasies make you feel!

Interview! Shoshanna Evers

2010-09-16T06:00:00.000-07:00

Please welcome Shoshanna Evers to my blog! Today her book, Punishing the Art Thief, releases from Ellora's Cave. After the blurb, please have fun reading an interview with Shoshanna.

Security guard James Tannen has been lusting after art history professor Melissa Dwyer since he sat in on her class three years ago. She crashes a private art unveiling at his employer’s house—then costs him his job by stealing a previously stolen priceless painting. She’ll do anything to keep the painting for herself—and James will do anything to get Melissa into his bed.

They agree that if she spends the weekend with him, he won’t tell a soul about her stolen masterpiece. It’s blackmail, but it’s also the perfect excuse for Melissa to get to know James. He takes a few of her erotic books for research, even though she’s never tried any of the risqué sexual techniques she reads about and masturbates to. Bondage. Nipple clamps. Butt plugs. Spanking.

If James is using her personal book collection as a script for their weekend together, Melissa knows she’s in for a wild ride!

Nat: So, how does writing make you feel, darling?

Shoshanna: I love escaping into another world for a few hours. Writing makes my life feel infinitely more exciting than it really is.

Nat: I know what you mean. We can travel the world, do things we would never do in real life. Also, I like the fact that we can orchestrate things to end how we want them to, not how they might in reality.

Which book is your fave—and why? Gotta know the why because I'm nosey.

Shoshanna: The Story of O. It’s a classic—and so inspiring, especially if you write BDSM flavored erotic romance like I do.

Nat: I’ve never read that. Maybe I should. I’ve delved into writing BDSM too, and I find the lifestyle fascinating and somewhat beautiful. That’s another book to add to my TBR pile!

Do you need silence to write, or can you pen a tale with a household tempest swirling around you?

Shoshanna: Well, I have a toddler, so if I needed silence to write then I’d never get anything done! But I can’t have music or a television on in the background, that’s really distracting to me.

Nat: Oh yes, when children are around, you learn to write amid chaos. Been there and done that!

What books do you have planned for the future, or don’t you know until you open a clean document?

Shoshanna: I actually have a few already penned that I’m waiting to submit to my editor at Ellora’s Cave, because I don’t want to overwhelm her, lol. I also have a book in my head that’s been roaming around for a while now, dying to get out, but so far all I really know about that book is that it’s probably going to be set in post-apocalyptic New York City.

Nat: Oooh, that sounds interesting, although I’ll admit anything post-apocalyptic scares me silly.

How much writing time do you have each day/week, and do you wish you had more?

Shoshanna: My writing schedule is based around taking care of my toddler. So if he naps, I write. If he’s entertaining himself with his toys for a little while, I’ll write. And when he goes to sleep for the night, I write. So I get a couple hours a day, usually in bits and pieces. Every other weekend I work as a nurse, which means that on the opposite weekend I try to get several writing hours in. I have more time than the average person, I suppose, since I don’t work full time.

Nat: That sounds like a good deal! At least you get to write every day. I can’t imagine not having that option. Waiting for weekends would drive me batty.

Okay, imagine this, if you will... You've been asked to attend awriting convention, and a genie appears (come on, indulge me...), offering to magic one star who will accompany you. Who would you pick and why? Details, I must have details, and if it's a star I'd pick, I'll fight you for the sexy bleeder! *holds fists up and stands in a menacing position, just so you know I mean business*

Shoshanna: Clive Owen. Oh my! *fans self*. He’s dreamy. He just looks like the sort of guy who means business, ya know?

Nat: I’m terrible with stars. I hardly know any of them. Once again I shall head to Google and have a look... Ah, I recognise him but can’t think what I’ve seen him in.

Oh crap! The genie has appeared again—gosh, he's an accommodating fella but arrives at the most inopportune friggin' fantasy moment GRR—and grants you another wish. Personally, I think he fancies you, hence his reappearance, but he's so shy he's just making out he has to visit you with three wishes. Yeah, right, Genie Boy, whatever you say. Hmm. Why doesn't he just say he thinks you're lush? Men! Anyway, where was I? Oh yes. The genie says you can take your star on an all-expenses paid holiday. Where would you go and why?

Shoshanna: Going on holiday? That’s so cute. I almost forgot you were British for a second there. Going on holiday sounds so much better than going on vacation. Anyhoo, I’d go to Israel, because I only went once and that was many years ago, and it’s an expensive flight, so I’d like to make good use of the all-expenses paid thing.

Nat: So tell me, what would you do with him? You know, do-do *wink*.

Shoshanna: I’d invite him to read my erotica and let me know which scene he’d prefer to reenact. *Sigh* Not really. Even in my fantasies, I’d feel guilty snuggling up to Clive when I have a perfectly good hubby at home. So I guess Clive and I would spend the holiday playing chess.

Nat: Aww, I’m with you there. I wouldn’t feel right fantasizing either.

The genie offers you unlimited wishes if you go with him, but you can’t use one to keep the star as yours. Would you run away with the genie or stay with the star?

Shoshanna: Genie! I could make *very* good use of my own personal genie.

Nat: Me too! So, do you believe in love at first sight, soul mates, and destiny?

Shoshanna: Absolutely. The first time I met my husband, I felt a spark. Six weeks later, he proposed. That was six years ago.

Nat: Hey, that’s wonderful. I believe in it too.

Where do you see yourself in your writing career in five year’s time?

Shoshanna: Hopefully in five years I’ll have a whole slew of ebooks with Ellora’s Cave and also a literary agent and some books out with NY Publishers. Fingers crossed! Or, hey, hand me the genie.

Nat: I wish you all the luck in the world for that, and it would be wonderful if you met your goal. How brilliant it would be! Actually, let’s be positive here. It WILL be wonderful WHEN you meet your goal.

Well, it’s been lovely having you here, darling. I wish you much success and happiness in your writing career.

And now, dear readers, we have an excerpt of Shoshanna’s new release, Punishing the Art Thief. Enjoy!

By reading any further, you are stating that you are at least 18 years of age.

An Excerpt From: PUNISHING THE ART THIEF

Copyright © SHOSHANNA EVERS, 2010

All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.

Melissa peeked into the third door again and stepped inside, flipping on a light that illuminated the single large oil painting. Her jaw dropped. It couldn’t be.

Could it?

Was this really Rembrandt’s only seascape, The Storm on the Sea of Galilee? Impossible. It had to be a replica, because that painting had been stolen in 1990 from the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum. Two men in police uniforms had handcuffed the museum security guards to railings before the staff realized they weren’t really cops.

It was the biggest art heist in U.S. history. Those men stole about $300 million worth of paintings—not because they wanted to sell them, or ransom them, but because, Melissa presumed, they wanted to go down in history as having pulled it off. And the paintings were all still missing.

Melissa crept closer to the painting. The thieves who had stolen the Rembrandt had cut it out of its frame, destroying the outer margins of the canvas. So if she could just see if the edges were cut, she’d know for certain if it was the real deal or a replica. Although it seemed unlikely that a collector like Mr. Hamilton would have a replica at all, much less one hung in what seemed like such a spot of honor. It had to be the real thing—but she needed to know for sure.

Lifting the frame off the wall, Melissa stumbled under its bulk and weight. The little lamp that underlit the painting was knocked to the floor and smashed. She choked back a gasp of fear as the room fell into shadows once more. She laid the frame on the hardwood floor, wincing at the thud it made. Someone had to have heard that. She paused. Nothing.

Reaching into her beaded clutch, she pulled out her cell phone and turned it on so that the backlight shone down onto the painting. Feeling like a criminal, she carefully separated the canvas from the frame.

It was real. She was looking at Rembrandt’s original stolen painting, knifed edges and all.

She couldn’t just leave the painting there. She had to take it home with her so she could figure out how to handle the situation. She’d have to notify the FBI. But how could she leave with a painting without attracting attention?

If she could remove the painting from the frame, it just might be doable. Melissa slid the canvas completely out of the frame and methodically rolled it, setting it aside in the corner as she stepped back and pondered what to do next.

Lifting the now-empty frame, Melissa hung it back on the wall with only the light from her cell phone to guide her, and kicked the shards from the broken light against the wall. In the dark room, it was impossible to tell that anything was amiss. But that wouldn’t be the case forever.

What was going to happen when Mr. Hamilton noticed the painting was missing?

She sensed the presence behind her before she heard James’ voice. “Just what do you think you’re doing, Melissa?”

Melissa turned around, her hands trembling. “James, please, it’s not what it looks like.”

“Turn around,” he said. “Get down on your knees and put your hands behind your head.”

“Please, James—”

“Now. Or I’m calling for backup to help restrain you.”

Melissa took a shaky breath but she did as he ordered. The long satin gown billowed around her as she kneeled, facing away from him. She could hear him flip the switch and was grateful that she had broken the light, because the fact that the frame on the wall was empty wouldn’t be noticed in the dark. Hopefully.

James cursed under his breath, then said, “Mr. Hamilton hired me to make sure that none of his things are stolen. You’ve been upstairs for way too long. You tricked me.”

“I swear, James, I didn’t.”

“Mrs. Hamilton keeps her diamonds up here. Is that what you were really after?”

Melissa dropped her hands from behind her head in shock. “No.”

“How do I know you didn’t swipe her jewelry? Why else would you be standing alone in the dark except to smuggle the jewels out of here on your person?”

“You can check,” Melissa said, her voice sounding strained and false to her ears. “I don’t have anything.”

“Oh, I’ll check all right. I’m going to search you, and you had better not be lying.”

If only she could escape before he figured out she had removed the painting from the frame. But she had to get the Rembrandt in her possession first. It was still rolled in the corner of the room in shadows.

“Stand up,” he said. “And put your hands on your head where I can see them.”

Melissa stood. She carefully avoided looking at the canvas in the corner or at the empty frame on the wall. From the dim light her cell phone was giving off, she could barely see anything herself. She was woozy with fear and excitement from being alone with James. She would have to do whatever it took to keep all of his attention on her and only her. As long as he didn’t focus on getting the room lit up, she would be home free.

She felt him step up behind her, his powerful torso just inches from her back. He methodically ran his hands up the bodice of her gown, running his fingers across the underside of her breasts the way she had seen female prisoners on television get patted down for drugs and needles. He dipped his hand into the top of her gown and carefully fingered the underwire bra she had on. Did he just caress her nipple? Or was she imagining things?

His hands came down and patted across her hips and down her buttocks, reaching underneath the hem of the satin dress and gliding up her thighs. Melissa moaned involuntarily at the sudden need she felt in her core. She struggled to keep her hands laced on her head, to keep from reaching out and touching him. He’s just doing his job, she reminded herself. Just because she was getting turned-on didn’t mean that he was thinking about anything other than his employers’ diamonds.

“I don’t feel any jewels hidden away under your gown,” he said softly. He slipped his hand into her panties. “Or did you hide them deeper?” Melissa gasped as she felt one long finger run along the crease of her labia, pressing gently against her clit for just a second before he inserted his finger into her pussy. Melissa knew she was wet with need, which was more than a bit embarrassing if James really was just searching her body for stolen jewels.

But she heard James murmur appreciatively as he withdrew his finger and rested his hand against her bare skin under the gown. He pressed his body against hers, holding her back to his chest. Her breath caught in her throat as she felt his massive erection pressing against her lower back.

It seemed as if he was getting just as much out of this impromptu body search as she was. “See,” she said. “I didn’t steal anything.”

He slid his finger down the crease of her ass and, to her surprise, pushed his finger, already lubricated from her own juices, into her asshole. Her jaw dropped as he withdrew his finger. No one had ever touched her there before.

New Cave Release - Lynne Connolly

2010-09-10T09:35:00.000-07:00

Before he became a jaguar shape-shifter and STORM agent, Jack Hargreaves was a librarian and archivist. Almost a geek. Working undercover in Oxford, England, Jack can almost believe he dreamed the last few years when his life turned around.

Except for sexy shape-shifter Shere, an Egyptian goddess with eyes of melting seduction and a body built for sin. And old friends who turn out not so friendly after all.

Shere already has a colleague—and lover—in Oliver, English lord, STORM agent and vampire. But when she sees Jack, all bets are off. She wants him badly, but she wants Oliver too. Can she have both?

What should be a routine operation rapidly goes bad, and Jack, Shere and Oliver, together with Chase Maynord, face danger that threatens them all and could blow the operation wide open. Along with their bodies, hearts and minds. Could Jack’s first field operation become his last?

Reader Advisory: Contains m/f/m ménage scenes. Don’t pretend you don’t like them!

New Cover Goodness

2010-09-09T11:44:00.000-07:00

WHOOOOOOOOOOOP!

New Cave Release - J. R. Patrick

2010-09-09T11:42:00.000-07:00

Zach is too hot for words but Marc has no intention of falling for his sexy coworker—no matter how many of Marc’s explicit dreams Zach stars in. With only a few months left of his stay in Germany, Marc doesn’t dare risk his heart with the beautiful man. But a train ride gone wrong changes everything when Zach comes to his rescue, melting Marc’s resistance in the process.

Zach’s patience has paid off. But now that the reserved scientist has turned up the heat from simmer to sizzle, four months won’t cut it. No. Zach wants forever. Will their chemistry be enough?

Free Read - Stockholm Seduction by Lily Harlem

2010-09-06T07:53:00.000-07:00

Blurb:

I was having a fabulous extended gap year in Oz. Sun, sea, sand and seriously hot surfers rolling in on every wave. Mmm, what could possibly be better?

But then I was taken…taken against my will. Stolen like a prized object. I was tied up, held for ransom. I didn’t know if I would survive, if I would walk away alive. And then, to top it all off, I was tortured in the sweetest, most delicious, most sensual way imaginable.

That was when I realized my fun down under had only just begun.

DOWNLOAD HERE NOW!

Get Crazy with Me! You Know You Want To...

2010-09-03T03:14:00.000-07:00

Blogging over at Three Wicked Writers Plus Two! today. Come and tell me what you'd do today if you had the chance!

Blog Revamp is Done & New Excerpt!

2010-09-01T10:30:00.000-07:00

Today I revamped Nicole Zoltack's blog using the template background she chose. I'm pleased with the outcome and just love the little fairy sitting on the books that I used for her signature and sidebar tabs. The main thing is Nicole is pleased too, and soon I'll be doing the same competition again to give others the chance to win a new look.

On another subject, I've been working to expand a vampire tale, continuing from the end where I thought I'd finished LOL. Funny how a book has so much more in it than you first thought. I suspect it will turn into a novel now, and an editor is interested in it, which is always a bonus! With this publishing company I can supply my own cover art, so I created a cover and hope it gets accepted along with the book. Whatcha think?

I love playing on Photoshop almost as much as I love writing, so it's a bonus when I get to make my own covers. Hopefully the book will be finished quite quickly once the kids are all back at school, but for now I'll leave you with an unedited excerpt. Enjoy!

~~~

The roaring thunder reminded Emily of a night not so long ago, when the waves crashed upon the rocks below the lighthouse, slapping the cliff edge and spewing into the sky. Hundreds of droplets hung suspended for a moment, tinted white by the shaft of light streaming from the windows, the pitch sky a vast background littered with a million tiny stars.

She stared out the window now at a similar scene, her stomach in knots. Lincoln was out there, battling the waves, trying to reach the stranded sailor who had radioed in seconds before his boat capsized. A swathe of illumination from the lighthouse beacon flashed across the angry sea, showing the hideous choppy waves and foamy spume ridges. Emily hated times like this, her nerves strung taut, ready to snap if news came that Lincoln hadn’t made it. And she would feel it if he didn’t.

She lifted her fingers to her mouth as a flash of lightning staggered across the horizon. The streak of light vanished, and she thought of a time when she’d have seen her image in the glass, a haunted woman, black hair wild, eyes wide in a white face pinched by terror. Another growl of thunder brought the sensation of goose bumps to her arms and she covered her ears, a tangible rumble humming through the floor and up into her body. Closing her eyes, she fought to combat her nerves, telling herself Lincoln would come home. Home to hold her in his arms and whisper everything was all right. Home to carry her to bed and make sweet love to her until the sun snuck its orange scalp over the horizon and chased the bad weather away. Chased away their need to feed.

Emily’s gums ached, her teeth elongating as her belly spasmed for a different reason. Hunger gripped her, the need for liquid sustenance strong, leaving her arms and legs weak. Lincoln had to return soon or she would be forced out into the storm—or worse, to feed from old Ray, the mortal who lived in the apartment below theirs. He would be sleeping, oblivious to the storm, oblivious to her creeping into his room to pierce his neck and suckle.

No. I mustn’t. Lincoln will come back. He will.

The hunger consumed her and another hunger joined the race. She longed for her lover and turned from the bedroom window, moving to the kitchen in an attempt to occupy her mind. Thoughts of Lincoln intruded. She saw him as she had that first night, when the harsh waves tossed her small boat into the rocks. He had peered down at her from the cliff top, the slash of the lighthouse beacon bringing him into stark relief before plunging him back into darkness. Then the moonbeams behind glowed, giving him a silver aura, the only indication he remained in place. He shouted, his voice whipped away by the spiteful wind, and she cried out, clinging to a large rock, soaked to the bone and so very cold.

He disappeared and Emily lowered her forehead to the rock, hot tears spilling. The sea bombarded her, high walls of black fluid smacking her body, goading her to release her hold. She clung on, hoping she would be saved. Something about the man on the cliff had called to her, and a slither of belonging had unwound in her belly, swirling with the hope. She gripped the rock tighter. The faint sound of an engine filtered through the swoosh and shush of the water and she’d turned to see a cone of light directed her way, the shaft bobbing with the boat’s movement. The vessel drew as close to the rock as it was able without damaging the hull, and in the calm between waves Emily let go of the rock and swam toward her savior, lifted out of the water by a strong grip on her wrist. She spluttered, resting on her side, the cruel wind slashing at her body, her teeth chattering. A blanket covered her, and she clutched it in fists beneath her chin, willing the cold and body-racking shakes to leave her be. The boat lifted then sped away, jolting over waves. She closed her eyes for just a moment and silently thanked whoever had saved her, sensing it had been the man on the cliff.

A short while later the boat came to a stop and she forced herself into a sitting position, narrowing her eyes against the light spilling from a halogen lamppost at the end of a pier. Footsteps tapped on the deck, and Emily turned to face her rescuer. He stood looking down at her, a frown marring his brow, his mouth downturned with worry.

“Are you all right?” he asked, moving closer, holding out his hand for her to take.

She grasped it, her fingers curling around his wrist, and he hauled her upright. Her hair stuck to her temples and a gust of cold wind snapped at her cheeks, bringing on a fresh bout of shivers. Nodding, Emily stared at him, her tongue stilled by his beauty. A woolen hat covered his head, black hair peeking from the ribbed hem, and eyes the color of heated coal regarded her intently. How did they glow like that?

And the Winner of the Blog Revamp is...

2010-08-30T11:56:00.000-07:00

Go HERE to find out!

Well done, winner!

Blog Competition!

2010-08-27T00:29:00.000-07:00

Hi all!

I'm over at Three Wicked Writers Plus Two today. If you want a chance to have your Blogger blog revamped, please click HERE!

Weird Dreams and Typos

2010-08-20T03:52:00.000-07:00

Hi all!

I'm blogging today over at Three Wicked Writers Plus Two! Please drop by and read all about my weird dreams, typos, and also an excerpt from my latest WIP.

Hope to see you there!

Best,

The Dreaded Edits?

2010-08-19T06:36:00.000-07:00

I think all writers come to a point in their career, at least once, but in my case several times, where they wonder: How much further can I go in my craft? Have I reached a point I can’t seem to go beyond, and if I can’t, what happens next? Do I remain at this level and hope my stories entertain anyway?

I have just completed my first round revision of His Beautiful Wench. In the original, Amelia and Emmett were a sweet couple who adored one another and had average sex. My editor, Jilly, asked that I expand the sex scenes—ten of them, oooh la la!—and draw the reader into Amelia and Emmett’s sexual world a little more. I wasn’t sure I could do that. I opened the edits and shook my head, convinced I couldn’t do any more than I’d already done. I wanted to cry. So I left the edits for a week, telling myself I couldn’t do it. Then I asked: Why can’t I? What’s stopping me doing this?

The answer is easy. Lack of self-confidence. I didn’t believe in myself enough.

So I began edits this Monday with a heavy heart, thinking I’d fail miserably. At first, I couldn’t push past the block that has been with me for a while with regard to certain aspects of my writing. But then something happened. I added to the sex scenes, and a new dimension appeared, a new side to Amelia and Emmett that wasn’t there before. They liked to play sex games now, and I just hadn’t realised that before. Over the past four days, I’ve gone back to each scene I added to and added some more, new shifts that surprised me and changed Amelia from a rather clinging female to an outright wanton wench! She now says things she would never have said before. Does things she would never have done. And wow, she’s now a 1800s woman who knows exactly what she wants in the bedroom and strives to get it.

All in all, I’m really pleased with the changes in this book. Even with the cuts I made later on in the story, I’ve written even more, taking the word count well over the original. I’m so pleased with how I learned to add more layers to my sex scenes and bring in more emotion. I’m excited now to apply this new knowledge to my future books.

Thank you, Jilly, for asking me to do this and for having faith, when I didn’t have any, that I could do it.

The Willy Day

2010-08-13T11:57:00.000-07:00

I worry whether I’m a prude. But I can’t be. I write ‘rude stuff’. So what was the deal with me the other day when I went blog hopping and happened upon a post showing male full frontals? I jumped back from the screen in shock. You know, my eyes went wide, and that silly little noise escaped, similar to the sound when you let off a little gas in public and didn’t mean to or you turn your ankle in the middle of a crowded street. You know what I mean. A strangled “Whoo!”

Yet I couldn’t resist scrolling down. For research purposes, I’ll have you know. That’s what I told myself anyway. Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m not against the willy. (I want to giggle because that word is just so stupid.) No, not against it at all. On this particular site the comments were many, with women apparently drooling over the various shapes and sizes and discussing amongst themselves which willy they would like in their lady gardens, which led to me leaving the blog feeling a little disturbed at my reaction. Am I abnormal to not want to gaze at all those men like that? I write about them using explicit words, for God’s sake, so what the hell was my problem? I put it down to me preferring non-visual willies, apart from my DH’s of course, and went along with the rest of my day.

Later, while out jogging with a friend, I mentioned my willy surprise. She slowed a bit as she got her phone out of her pocket. I assumed she was going to call her kids to check on them, but she said, “Oh, I have over 200 on my phone.”

“What, willies?”

“Yep, wanna see?”

“Uh, no,” I said.

“Oh, go on. There’s one I got sent today. Really weird.”

We slowed to a walk. She scrolled through her phone then thrust it in my face. Oh my bloody good God, there in front of me was a wooden willy.

“It’s wooden,” I said.

“No it isn’t. It’s this guy’s real piece. I’ve seen it on webcam.”

Now, how I didn’t faint I don’t know. This was my friend here, someone who had never talked in detail about sex much less admitted she has over 200 cocks on her phone and webcams with guys. Colour me shocked for the second time that day. Thankful I hadn’t let out that silly noise again, I smiled brightly and picked up the pace, hoping there would be no more willies for me that day.

Fate had other ideas. We see many other joggers while we’re out. One particular male gives me the bloody creeps, making me wary of every other male who passes. The Creep stares at us as he approaches and grunts when we’re level. He looks like those guys you see in the newspaper. You know the ones: WANTED! PEEPING TOM! Anyway, it wasn’t The Creep who jogged toward us but some guy we’d never seen before. Tight lycra shorts. Serious about his exercise. And as he neared, I saw he obviously only wore the shorts. As though a child had fashioned a sausage out of Playdoh, this guy’s winkle hung down his leg. Not excessively far, but enough so I could imagine the state of it if he got a little excited. I blushed at having spotted it, because really, I’m not into gawping at other men’s wotsits. He jogged closer—and his sausage expanded.

Now then. That wasn’t my idea of good scenery to jog to. Once again I let out that STUPID bloody noise and upped my pace, averting my eyes from his doodah and focusing ahead. My friend snorted—yep, she’d spotted it too—and we jogged past him as though we hadn’t noticed a damn thing.

At this point we were running down a track in the middle of nowhere, which always frightens me and, with The Creep in mind, I glanced back to make sure Playdoh Dick didn’t turn and follow us. And found him glancing back too.

Oh. My. God. My face heated like no one’s business, and I pushed myself to run faster, praying we wouldn’t see him again. It seemed my day was full of willies and I wanted no part of it. I mused that if DH came on strong when I got home, I’d run away from him screaming. There’s only so much a girl can take, and my God, I’d had enough already!

Three Wicked Writers, Plus Two!

2010-08-13T09:51:00.000-07:00

I'm excited to announce I'm now one of the five authors on Three Wicked Writers Plus Two! I'll be blogging every Friday. Oh, I feel all giddy and silly. Please come on over!

New Cave Releases - Desiree Holt, Mari Carr, Catherine Chernow

2010-08-13T06:33:00.000-07:00

Jonah Grey, driven by a lust for the blood of the legendary Chupacabra that murdered the woman who was to be his mate, jumps at the offer to leave the FBI and join Night Seekers, who are dedicated to hunting and killing the devil beast.

Then Jonah encounters a woman with whom he shares explosive chemistry that neither can deny—and sex that brings a level of pleasure neither has ever known. Soon he’s dividing his time and indulging in erotic bouts of orgasmic lust with Dakota.

But the devil beast must still be dealt with, and the wolf in Jonah won’t rest until the Chupacabra is dead.

Wild Irish, Book Five

Friday’s child is loving and giving…

Ewan Collins has had the hots for Natalie for years but she continually rebuffs him, supposedly because of their age difference. When Natalie comes to stay with the Collins family for a week, Ewan decides it’s time to make his move in a serious way.

Natalie’s been in a funk since celebrating another birthday alone. When Ewan proposes to help her “get a life”—seven lessons in seven days—she figures, what the hell does she have to lose? Ewan’s plans include tequila shots, fishing, karaoke…and other, more erotic hands-on demonstrations.

But Nat’s loneliness isn’t Ewan’s only obstacle. Tragedy in her past continually takes Natalie to a dark place her mind can’t easily overcome. With support, tenderness and love, Ewan plans to win over Natalie one lesson at a time.

Starting with lessons of the heart.

Sensual. Seductive. Sculptures so erotic they become a white-hot feast for the eyes.

That’s what New York art promoter Sloan Benton sees the day she discovers the talent of sculptor Dallen O’Neal. Dallen’s outrageous style gives Sloan a burning desire to learn more about him and the secret medium he’s using. He’s the sexiest, hottest, most dominant man she’s ever met and the best new talent in town, but she realizes too late that he’s also a painful, forgotten memory from her past.

Dallen O’Neal wants revenge. Sloan Benton crushed his artistic spirit. He couldn’t sculpt anything for years after her cruelty, but his desire for her never waned. When she accepts the invitation to view his work, then his challenge to strip naked for art’s sake, he discovers Sloan’s submissive side. They share wild sex and explore Sloan’s penchant for spankings. Sloan captures his heart, but he thrusts her aside, intent on vengeance.

Jealousy, sex, submission and a hint of exhibitionism mingle together, making Dallen’s need for Sloan…

White-hot and hard.

New Cave Release - India Masters

2010-08-06T10:48:00.001-07:00

A standalone story in the Hunters for Hire series.

Anari Fury—daughter, sister, fiancée. Life on Sa-Ro Five is good…until a ruthless pirate spies her. Refusing his advances sets in motion a chain of events that will change her life forever.

Taken from the only home she’s known, Anari is sold as a sex slave. But she possesses a secret that puts her at even greater risk than that posed by the man who uncovers desires she never suspected—a frightening man with opaque gray eyes and a past that could get them both killed.

Duncan Storm is an AWOL super soldier. Conscience drove him from the IMF. Necessity drove him to Bounty Hunters, Inc. But Duncan’s skills are no match for the woman destined to teach him the one thing he’s never known…love.

Together, Duncan and Anari must fight to regain control of a technology capable of providing a better life for millions, or destroying entire worlds. Along the way, both will learn what it means to give their all for the love of another.

New Cave Release - Regina Carlysle

2010-08-04T06:51:00.001-07:00

Book two in the Sequins, Saddles and Spurs series.

Lola Lamont leaves Vegas with two pals, never imagining they’d break down in small-town Texas. So what’s a former showgirl to do when she runs smack dab into the hottest sheriff south of the Mason Dixon line? Why, jump his bones, of course!

Sam Campbell takes one look at the Vegas Bombshell and knows damn good and well she belongs in his bed. She probably has the words gold digger tattooed to her ass but he’s ready to take what the sexy blonde has to offer. Vowing to protect his heart, Sam rocks her world. Too bad she’s rocking his right back. Sam is more than ready to handle some sass, spunk and sex, but is he willing to gamble on love?

By reading any further, you are stating that you are at least 18 years of age. If you are under the age of 18, it is necessary to exit this site.

An Excerpt From: TROUBLE IN A STETSON

Copyright © REGINA CARLYSLE, 2010

All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.

Chapter One

Lola Lamont gave her poor old pink Caddy a baleful look through the plate glass windows of Blue Belle’s Café and heaved a giant sigh. Her sweet baby had pretty much bitten the dust and her current companions at the table were right, she needed to be put out of her misery. Lola and her friends, Roxie and Emily, had rolled into the tiny town of Mesa Blanco, Texas with the old monstrosity of a car gasping and wheezing like a two-pack-a-day smoker.

Refugees from Vegas, the three friends had, in a moment of madness, said to hell with it and loaded up for a grand adventure with only pennies in their pockets and the good sense of a trio of pigeons.

What the hell had they been thinking?

The sad truth of the matter was they hadn’t been thinking at all. Roxie had lost her job as a security expert for high stakes gaming at a Vegas casino and Emily had been a victim of downsizing at the hotel where she worked. And herself? Lola sighed, still feeling the pain of it all. She had been fired from her show Pink Flamingo Girls for being too old. All those years of dance lessons and keeping her body in primo shape had turned to nothing just days after her thirtieth birthday. Then to make matters worse, her boyfriend Nick had dumped her days after that. Talk about a double whammy. Lola had never been one to have little pity parties for herself but she was about as blue as the décor of Mesa Blanco, Texas’ only café.

They’d stumbled into the place, exhausted, stressed and dying of thirst only to be met by three of the hunkiest, rope-’em-up, tie-’em-down cowboys they’d ever seen. The place had been practically empty except for them and, gallant gents that they were, the men had treated them to soft drinks, lord love ’em. Wyatt Cavenaugh, a local rancher, had already offered Emily a job as a cook of all things. Dang woman could barely boil water. Together they’d driven off in the man’s big truck. Roxie was, at the moment, caught up in a low conversation with the handsome owner of the local honky-tonk.

Tension ratcheted up a notch when the other dark, hunkalicious man moved closer to her and leaned in. The scent of him filled her head. “Want another Coke?”

Lola felt that deep, gravelly and oh-so-sexy voice roll over her body to settle in her pussy. Uh-oh. Trouble in a Stetson, for sure. Ever a sucker for a rough, smoky voice, she nodded. “You’re sweet but no thanks. Sam, is it?”

He tipped his big, black Stetson, his dark eyes burning with a look she’d come to recognize from just about every man she’d ever met. Hunger. Desire. Lust. Definite interest. Ooh boy. Did she ever know that look. “Sam Campbell, county sheriff.” His kissable lips turned up at the corners and Lola’s heart thumped hard in her chest. Late afternoon sunlight beamed through the window near the table to settle on the lines of his bronzed, weathered face and glinted on dark hair that she was dying to get a better look at.

“Lola.”

“Yeah, Lamont, a Vegas damsel in distress.”

Arching a brow, she gave him a considering look. “And you’ve come riding in on your big white horse?”

“Looks like it.”

“My hero. Nice to meet you.” Smiling, she held out her hand which he immediately engulfed in his. The warmth of his touch was sudden and unexpected and Lola felt the loss when he finally released her.

Damn if he wasn’t the sexiest man she’d seen in a long, long time and that included Nick Mantucci whom she’d thought was awfully handsome. Nick was a smooth operator who wore designer suits as if he were born to them. Not this man. Sam Campbell could’ve stepped out of a scene from one of those old shoot-’em-up movies she used to watch late at night when she couldn’t sleep. Tall, at least six-four or five of brawn and yummy goodness, he not only wore the authority of the sheriff’s badge pinned to his black shirt but carried it on his broad shoulders. The chest beneath that shirt was mounded and muscular practically making her fingers twitch with the need to touch. The man oozed testosterone and wasn’t this a hell of a time to notice such a thing?

Mentally rolling her eyes at her silly turn of thoughts, she glanced away regretfully thinking, wrong time and wrong place. Besides, she was just done with men. Especially those who made promises they’d had no intention of keeping.

“So what are you gonna do, Miz Lola?” Sam quietly sipped his coffee.

Sighing deeply, she jabbed her straw into her now empty beverage glass, making the ice cubes rattle. “Look for a job, I figure.” Feeling more tired than she’d felt in years, she leaned back in her chair and sent her gaze around the room as she tried to think. Her eyes lit on the fluorescent orange “help wanted” sign in the window. Straightening suddenly, she started to get up then remembered her manners. “Excuse me a minute, Sam.”

Feeling his gaze on her back, Lola grabbed up the sign and walked up to the taciturn, gray haired woman standing behind the counter. The heels of Lola’s cute high heeled sandals click clicked out a warning and the matronly lady glanced up with a frown.

“Can I help ya, miss?”

Lola set the sign on the counter. “Looks like you need help and I’d like to apply. Can you tell me who I need to talk with about a job?”

“You’d need to talk to me. I’m Belle Warren.” Belle, all of five two and built like an army tank, looked her up and down slowly and Lola got the feeling she didn’t like what she saw. Figured. Lola was pretty much used to that reaction. “Where ya from, little missy?”

“Vegas, ma’am.”

“Bull dung,” she said matter-of-factly. “That ain’t no city voice you’ve got there, girl.”

Lola opened her mouth to speak when Sam walked up and set his coffee cup on the counter. “Can I get a refill, Belle?”

That got a smile from Belle as she grinned and reached for the coffee pot. “Sure thing, Sheriff.” Seeming to forget Lola’s presence for the moment, she finally turned back to Lola and planted her fists on ample hips. “No sirree. You’ve got the deep south stamped all over you. Where you from?”

Sam propped his gorgeous, denim-covered butt on the nearest stool and listened unabashedly. Though it was damn hard, Lola tried to forget about him and focused on Belle.

“I’m from a little bitty town just outside Jackson, Mississippi.”

“You grew up there?”

“Yes’m. And I waited tables too. From the time I turned sixteen. I’m a really hard worker, Belle.”

“Hmph. Well, we’ll just see about that, I reckon. Now this ain’t permanent. Got that? Merrylee Hawkins just had a baby and she’ll be back for her job in about six weeks or so. That’s all I’ve got to offer.”

“Oh no, that’s okay,” she rushed. “I just need to make enough money to get out of town.”

“Why? You have somewhere you need to go?”

Lola had to think about that.

No, she really didn’t but she just couldn’t see herself staying here. The sleepy town of Mesa Blanco was far too similar to the town where she grew up and she hadn’t been able to leave that place fast enough. Nope. She wouldn’t be staying. Finally she shook her head and sighed. “Not really. I guess I just need some time to figure things out.”

“Okay then, I’ll try you out for awhile, Lola.”

Relief swept her and then she thought of something else. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Shoot.”

“Someone mentioned something about a rooming house?”

“Staying there requires money,” Belle said. She pursed her lips and then seemed to come to some kind of conclusion. “Listen here. There’s no need for that. I reckon you’re pretty much busted.”

“You’ve got that right. I’m a downright pauper at this point.”

“I figured. You ladies rolled in here without two plug nickels between you considering the three of you were gonna share one drink. Hell, I was prepared to contribute to the cause until Sam here, Wyatt, and Cliff jumped in to spring for the drinks. It’s clear ya’ll are pretty broke.”

“Pitiful.”

“Ain’t it just.” Belle shook her head. “Tell ya what. I’ve got a little apartment out back behind the café. I lived there when I was younger, back before I married and started a family. Over the years I’ve rented it out but it’s empty now. It’s not much but it’s furnished and clean. You can stay there until you get on your feet. How’s that sound?”

Lola was so overwhelmed she wiggled around in celebration and impulsively ran around the edge of the counter to give Belle a hug. Belle Warren was a sweetheart despite her gruff demeanor. Lola knew a little something about being judged on the basis of appearance. She should’ve known better. “Thank you. Thank you. Lordy! You won’t be sorry, ma’am.”

Belle stiffly patted her back. “Hell, I’m already sorry.”

New Cave Release - Nicole Austin

2010-07-30T00:28:00.000-07:00

A standalone title in the Cougar Challenge series.

With the big four-oh looming, Larissa Cross is more than ready to shed the roles that have defined her and make drastic changes. Gone are the widowed Army wife, soccer mom and empty nester. She’s even setting aside the schoolteacher until fall.

A naughty challenge issued by fellow erotic romance booklovers on their blog, Tempt the Cougar, has come at the perfect time and ignited Rissa’s competitive drive. It’s going to be a glorious summer full of hot younger man lovin’ for a new cougar on the prowl. Rawr!

Tattooed and pierced fireman JD Harmon is tempting prey but there’s much more to the hunk than his bad boy good looks. A one-night stand isn’t in his plans, and sex—no matter how mind-blowing—won’t distract him from his goals. JD intends to tame the wicked cougar and stake a claim on her heart.

By reading any further, you are stating that you are at least 18 years of age. If you are under the age of 18, it is necessary to exit this site.

An Excerpt From: SUMMER OF THE COUGAR

Copyright © NICOLE AUSTIN, 2010

All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.

The spicy scent of chorizo and onions grilling in the skillet had her stomach growling. She scrambled in some eggs and raisins then the completed dish went into the warm oven along with a plate of fresh tortillas. Earlier she’d made salsa and set the table. But she was hungry for more than food. Rissa had every intention of getting JD on the menu.

She headed for her laptop to check email when someone knocked on the door. Glancing at the clock she noted how fast he’d made the drive. She started talking as she opened the door. “Wow, you made good ti—”

The sight of JD waiting on her doorstep, smiling at her broadly, had the words dying in her dry throat as Rissa nearly swallowed her tongue. She’d imagined how he’d look out of the uniform. Her imagination had nothing on reality.

Washed so many times the material was nearly threadbare, his blue T-shirt bore the fire department emblem and lovingly conformed to his chiseled torso. Intricate lines of a black tattoo that accentuated his huge biceps disappeared under his left sleeve. She longed to trace all those twisting, twirling lines with the tip of her tongue, and contemplated how much skin they covered.

He’d tucked the shirt into a faded pair of low-riding shorts that failed to disguise the thick bulge that extended all the way to his left hip. Saliva flooded her mouth and she wondered how he’d taste. Her breasts felt swollen and heavy, and with each ragged breath her rock-hard nipples rasped against her top. Shifting her weight from one foot to the other, Rissa realized more than her mouth had gotten wet.

“Damn, honey. You’re even more beautiful than I remembered.”

He lifted his right hand and held out a red fire extinguisher bearing a festive streamer of multicolored ribbons. How had she failed to notice the large red cylinder dangling from his fist? “I brought you a present.”

“Um…thanks.” Rather unique gift.

“When you get another car, I want you to put that in the trunk so I’ll know you’re safe.”

Awww!

The sweet gesture left her speechless. For several long moments she stared into his dark eyes. Reflected in their depths she saw the potential for a future. A long-lasting relationship.

Rissa shook her head to dispel the rather disturbing idea. She wanted to live, have fun, sample all the different flavors she’d never tasted—not tie herself to one man. No matter how sweet and sexy and thoughtful he might be.

Breakfast. They were supposed to be having breakfast.

“Come on in.” Stepping back from the door, she allowed him to enter her home. Not sure what else to do with it, she put his gift in the hall closet. Turning back toward him, she said, “I hope you’re hungry. I cooked—”

The breath rushed from her lungs as her back came up against the wall. Warmth and JD’s masculine scent enveloped her as his hard body fitted against her soft curves. It was a glorious fit. His body caged hers and his fingers bracketed her face, holding her in place.

“I’m starved.” His voice rumbled close to her ear. “For you.” Then his lips, soft yet firm, brushed along her jaw, moving slowly toward her mouth. She could have ducked or turned her head away. Longing for his kiss, she did neither. At the first touch of his lips to hers, Rissa spontaneously combusted. Fire raced across her skin and her blood turned to molten lava. From head to toe she burned and her toes curled into the carpet.

Dios, she might need that fire extinguisher to put out the flames.

He claimed her mouth in a scorching hot kiss and her lips opened wide, inviting him inside. JD accepted her summons. His tongue thrust into her mouth, slid against hers and she moaned as his bold and sweet taste washed over her like warm, delicious honey. Without conscious thought, she wrapped her arms around his neck and clung to him.

JD took over, exploring her mouth with his tongue, drinking down her needy moans and whimpers. Her breasts were crushed against his chest and everywhere they touched, from shoulder to knee, his body heat left a wake of desire licking at her skin.

She had never been so thoroughly and completely kissed. And if the shudders that shook his body were any indication, she wasn’t alone. Their kiss had the same potent effect on him.

The heady mating of their mouths ended way too soon. Resting his forehead against hers, JD stared into her eyes as they both struggled to find solid footing. Her body hummed with desire, aching and ready for more. She wanted so much more.

“Damn, baby,” he panted. “You’re burning me alive.”

Burning him? He’s the one who started the inferno. He damn well needed to do something other than stare at her. Preferably something involving the long, thick erection that had left its impression branded over her abdomen.

“Now that we have the first kiss out of the way, we can relax and enjoy breakfast.”

Eagle's Refuge - Regina Carlysle

2010-07-29T10:30:00.000-07:00

Mac Moreno has been left one third of a ranch by a father who barely acknowledged Mac’s existence. He struggles to come to terms with this fact, as well as accepting his life now contains a half brother and half sister. He has yet to move into his property on the ranch, living for now in a room in the club he runs. I got the sense he was a lonely man longing to settle down, but with no woman in Morgan’s Creek gaining his attention like that, what was he to do?

Callista Hill arrives in Morgan’s Creek to start afresh. Her ex is decidedly weird, and she needs to distance herself from him so she can move on with her life. She meets Mac, and their attraction is obvious right from the start. I rooted for the couple to become permanent, paving the way for them to have a happy and fulfilling life.

One thing I noticed while reading is that Regina Carlysle has a talent for taking me to the place she’s writing about without me realising I’m still reading. I saw the first bar scene in particular like I was watching a movie, and I felt the atmosphere and saw the surroundings as though really there. I’m not one for cowboy tales, never really picked one up before, but Eagle’s Refuge made me change my mind.

I also imagined the eagle that featured at the beginning and the end was Mac’s father in a different form, that he had come back to welcome Mac to the ranch at the start and to tell him he belonged there at the end. A poignant moment that had me thinking of the times in my own life when something similar has happened and I wished the deceased person was that butterfly or cat or whatever that came up to me at the time of thinking about a loved one who has passed.

To sum this review up, I would recommend Eagle’s Refuge to any reader of erotic material, and I’d like to paste my favourite line that brought lovely imagery to mind: Mac squinted at the violently blue Texas sky and watched a lone eagle glide through that vivid palette to land on the roof of the barn where it pierced him with an unblinking gaze. Lovely, just lovely.

I’m looking forward to reading Ms. Carlysle’s next book, Trouble in a Stetson. I think I’ve become a cowboy fan!

New Cave Release - Desiree Holt

2010-07-28T09:33:00.000-07:00

Book one in the Sequins, Saddles and Spurs series.

Stranded in Mesa Blanco, Texas, with no money and no prospects, Emily Lathrop hires on as the cook at the Lazy Aces Ranch. Two problems—she can’t cook, and owner Wyatt Cavanaugh is so hot she nearly burns herself just standing near him. Trying to keep her hormones under control is a problem when Wyatt seduces her into his bed and teaches her the real meaning of erotic love.

Now proper Emily finds herself shockingly addicted to the BDSM games he likes to play, her body craving the bondage and domination that pushes her thermostat past the point of combustion even though she suspects it’s all going to come crashing down any moment with a big, painful thud.

By reading any further, you are stating that you are at least 18 years of age. If you are under the age of 18, it is necessary to exit this site.

Chapter One

Emily Proctor slammed the hood of the car and looked at her two friends.

“I don’t have a clue what’s wrong with this clunker, but I jiggled everything I could. See if it starts now.”

They’d set out from Las Vegas, the three of them, refugees from downsizing, with nothing but this whale-sized bucket of bolts, a few possessions, prepaid cell phones for emergencies and the grand total of three hundred dollars between them. West, there was only California and LaLa Land so they’d headed east, away from the desert heat. They’d expected the car to break down somewhere, just not on a highway with nothing around them except pastures and cattle. They hadn’t even passed another vehicle in almost an hour. And it was hotter than nine kinds of hell.

Emily’d pulled her thick mane of sable hair back into a pony tail. Now she lifted it off her neck where it rested limply and used it to fan her skin. If this was a nightmare, she wanted to wake up right this minute.

Lola Lamont wriggled in behind the wheel. One blonde curl from the mass of curls piled haphazardly on her head and held in place with a clip fell forward onto her forehead and she brushed it impatiently away. Stretching out her long, showgirl legs and straightening the t-shirt that barely concealed breasts that were the envy of every other girl in the shows, she worked herself into place on the seat. Letting out a long, slow breath, she carefully turned the key. The motor coughed, gurgled, groaned and finally turned over with a sound that set all their teeth on edge.

“At least it started again.” Lola sighed. The 1966 pink Cadillac convertible was her contribution to their road trip. “This old gal has been very good to me.”

“It may be time to put her to sleep,” Roxie snorted.

“Roxie!” Lola did her best to look affronted.

“I’m with Rox,” Emily put in. “You think this hunk of junk will at least get us to the next town?”

Leaning against the car, Roxie fanned herself with her hand. “It better, or we’re gonna burn up like fried chicken.”

“All right.” Emily dusted her hands off on the seat of her jeans shorts. “Rox, get in the car. Lola, you drive. Roll all the windows down to catch some kind of breeze and pray as you never have before that we hit civilization before this thing rolls over for the last time.”

The grand adventure they’d tried to make this was turning into a grand pain in the ass. If they didn’t light somewhere soon they’d be in bigger trouble than they’d had in Vegas.

No one said a word as they rolled down the highway, each mile unwinding beneath them with unbearable slowness. Emily knew they were sending up silent prayers to the gods and the fates and anyone else who would listen.

Please, please, let us land somewhere safe.

Just as the engine was beginning to make threatening noises again, signs of life emerged. Smack in the middle of the highway sat a town. If you could call it that, Emily thought. A far cry from the glitz and glitter of Las Vegas.

But it had a main street, cross streets running into it and, lord have mercy, a cafe, where the car heaved its last and died.

“At least we’ll be able to get something cold to drink,” Roxie sighed.

“You better hope it’s cheap,” Lola warned. “Maybe we could all share one.”

“Maybe we could just go inside and see what’s what.” Emily blew a stray hair away from her face. How in god’s name had she ever thought this would be fun?

‘“What’s what’ better be a way to get that hunk of junk fixed,” Roxie said, climbing out of the car.

“As if.” Lola tugged on her very tight white shorts and brushed at her hot pink tank top. “The only way that’s gonna happen is if we rob a bank or win the lottery.”

“Right now we don’t even have money for a lottery ticket,” Emily reminded her and sighed. “Okay. Let’s go see what’s inside. Hopefully they have air conditioning or we might sweat to death.”

The inside of Blue Belle’s looked so cheerful Emily almost threw up. Booths among one wall were upholstered in what she could only call an electric blue and the scattering of tables and chairs had cheap vases of artificial blue flowers on them. Every available space on the wall was filled with more pictures of bluebonnets than she’d ever seen. Not that she’d seen that many.

At three o’clock in the afternoon the place was mostly empty. The first thing Emily noticed was the blast of cool air that greeted them. The second was the three men sitting at a corner table. They all looked up as the women trooped in. If Emily had been in a better mood she’d have checked them out. Right now all she wanted was cold liquid, not a hot man.

The three of them plunked down in chairs at a table near the door. Roxie picked up the menus stuck between the salt and pepper shakers and fanned herself. A woman in jeans and a blouse the loudest blue Emily had ever seen came out from behind the lunch counter.

“Y’all look like you’ve just been dragged through hell,” she commented. “What can I get for you?”

Roxie stopped fanning herself and looked at the plastic-covered menu. “We’ll have the large Coke.”

“All of you?” the waitress asked.

“One coke,” Emily told her. “Three straws.”

The woman stared at them for a long minute then shrugged. “Okay. One Coke. Three straws.”

“Couldn’t we each just get a small one?” Lola whined.

Emily bit back the retort that bubbled up. “Even a small one is more than two dollars,” she hissed. “They probably think they’ll get rich on strangers coming through.”

The woman returned with a huge glass filled with the bubbly soda, plunked it down on the table and slammed three paper-wrapped straws beside it.

“She probably figures she won’t be getting as tip,” Lola giggled.

“She’s right,” Emily said and picked up one of the straws.

They were each taking small sips, savoring the icy cold liquid, when the waitress returned with two more large glasses of coke and set them on the table.

Emily looked up at her. “Um, we didn’t order those.”

“I know.” The woman’s voice could have curdled milk. “Your friends over there did.”

“My friends?” Emily frowned. “I don’t have any friends here.”

“You do now.”

The voice was deep and so smooth it sent shivers of delight dancing along her spine. She was vaguely aware of a chair scraping on the floor next to her and a body folding down into it. When she forced herself to look at the occupant she nearly lost it. A typical cowboy hat sat atop a head with thick, sun-streaked brown hair long enough to touch the collar of his chambray shirt. Hazel eyes with flecks of amber and green were watching her with an amused look. Sensuous lips turned up in a slight grin that softened the harsh angles and planes of his very masculine face. Faded jeans covered long legs that he crossed with one ankle resting on the other knee, giving her a good look at dusty, but obviously expensive, cowboy boots. Hand tooled. Emily had seen enough of them on high rollers in Vegas.

New Cave Release - Juniper Bell

2010-07-28T06:52:00.000-07:00

How is one innocent country girl to choose between a Duke, a Marquis and an Earl? Must she?

When Miss Alicia Silverwood marries the Earl of Dorchester, he whisks her off to Notre Plaisir, a country manor where erotic surprises await in the company of three powerful lords.

The young Earl needs a wife and heir. The cynical Marquis de Beaumont needs a playmate. And the commanding Duke of Warrington needs a reason to live. As for the new Lady Dorchester, she’s about to discover the true nature of her own sensual needs. On top of that, she’s falling in love.

It might take a miracle for Lady Alicia and her three lords to come to an arrangement that makes them all happy. Or perhaps all that’s required is a little scandalous rule-breaking.

Reader Advisory: Contains an m/m/f/m ménage with brief m/m sex, as well as a deflowering and much sweet loving.

By reading any further, you are stating that you are at least 18 years of age. If you are under the age of 18, it is necessary to exit this site.

An Excerpt From: MY THREE LORDS

Copyright © JUNIPER BELL, 2010

All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.

“I make you two promises, Alicia. The first is that I shall not take your maidenhead. Only one man may do so, and that is your husband. The second is that tonight you will experience more pleasure than you’ve ever imagined, thanks to me. If the Earl were here tonight, you’d receive no gentle caresses, no stroking such as I intend to give you. Your nipples would be left untouched, save for a rough tweak or two. Whereas I intend to savor their sweetness and watch them stand to attention like pink sentinels of your desire.”

Pinned as if I were a helpless butterfly, I lost myself in the soothing cadence of his speech. I became aware of the heat and strength of his body, and an unfamiliar tingling in my belly.

“You may think you prefer the Earl, but you’d regret it deeply. Your deflowering would be painful rather than pleasurable. Harsh rather than sweet. Such an event in a young girl’s life should bring tears of joy along with the tears of pain. That is what I offer, and the Earl, cognizant of your best interests as well as his own, has allowed me to provide this service. Do you understand?”

I nodded, and when he didn’t respond, whispered, “Yes.”

“Then come. Rise now.”

The weight lifted off me and he helped me to my feet. When I stood facing him, I saw a look such as I’d never seen on his jaded face before. He looked almost tender. Slowly, gently, he traced the skin along the edge of my loosened stays. I felt a prickling in the tips of my breasts. When I looked down at myself, my nipples were just as he said, pink and standing up under the layers of undergarments. He hooked his finger in the busk between my breasts. My breath caught.

“I won’t proceed further unless I have your full consent. Despite my reputation, I am not in the habit of forcing my attentions on unwilling girls. I must know that you accept what I’m offering you, fully and completely.”

His black gaze seared into me, as if he could see all the hidden corners of my soul. And perhaps he could, because God help me, I wanted the things he’d promised, and more. I wanted to lie down on the bed and roll myself in the bedclothes, or strip off my chemise and run outside under the stars. I didn’t fully understand what was happening to me. My body felt heavy and yet light at the same time.

“I do,” I whispered. “I accept.”

His eyes glittered in the candlelight. I felt dizzy. For a moment, I was back in the barn at home, caught with a goatherd’s hand hovering over my breast. I’d looked up in alarm at the sound of soft laughter. The sight of the Marquis’ delighted, mocking smile had turned me to stone.

There had been another feeling as well, a charge in the air that had made my skin prickle.

I felt it again as his eyes deliberately consumed my body, top to toe. Under my eyelashes, I performed an inspection of my own. The Marquis was not a bad-looking man, slender of build, perhaps a head taller than myself. As always, he was dressed in the height of fashion, with an embroidered cream waistcoat and a splendid coat of dark blue superfine that fit him to perfection. He always appeared to be mocking the world around him, but over the years I had on occasion seen him perform small kindnesses that surprised me.

“There has always been a special feeling between us, has there not?” As he spoke, he deftly removed my stays until I stood in nothing more than my chemise. I shivered at his nearness. Not for the first time, I thought what a powerful man he was, not in physique but in presence…a powerful man inclined to darkness.

He picked up a candle and slowly walked around me, shining its light on my body. The warmth from the candle paled in comparison to the penetrating weight of his gaze. I fixed my eyes on the pretty dressing table on the far side of the room. I counted five silver-backed brushes and considered attempting to count the individual bristles to distract myself from the strange feelings stealing over me.

A gentle touch on my posterior made me start. His hand cupped my bottom and warmth flooded my being. How could such a simple touch create such an uproar within me? With a firm hand and wandering fingers, he stroked my flesh. I felt the back of my chemise inch up my legs. The feel of his fingertips roaming across the backs of my thighs was so exquisite, I closed my eyes so the pleasure would continue.

“Ah no, my dear, you are not allowed to close your eyes. I want you to fully comprehend that it is I, the dreaded Marquis de Beaumont, who is bringing you this enjoyment. Whose hands are now stroking your tender buttocks?”

Tendrils of fire seemed to spread across my bottom as he quickened his touch. “Yours,” I gasped.

“And who intends to remove this interfering chemise from your body?”

My throat became suddenly parched. If he removed my chemise, I would be naked before the most notorious rake in England. “You,” I whispered. “But, please…”

“Yes?” His fingers danced up the curve of my spine and my belly seemed to quiver in response. Cool air caressed my back as he drew up the chemise. “Ah, so lovely. I’ve waited a very long time for this moment.”

I clutched the front of it to my chest. My head was such a confusing swarm of thoughts, I didn’t know what I wanted to say. Please continue. Stop this instant. The two opposite impulses battled in my mind. “Why me?” I managed. “Why a long time?”

“Why you?” My question did not make him pause in his intrusions on my body. Every inch of exposed skin drew a caress or a pat from his relentless, curious, knowing hands. Every touch sent a cascade of shivers across my flesh. “I’m sure you don’t remember, but you first caught my eye as a girl dashing after your brothers. You ran directly into me, like a Spanish bull into a cape. I have been accustomed to find myself a figure of fright for young girls. But you seemed to have no fear of me. I plucked you off the ground and held you high. You looked back at me with those frank eyes of yours, whose color I find no words for, somewhere in the mysterious realm between gray and blue, and you said, quite simply, “You were directly in my path. You will please to put me down now.” And so I did, and watched, bemused, as you raced away to join your brothers. At that moment I knew you were an unusual girl.”

By this time he was in front of me, loosing my hands from their grip on my chemise. I looked up at him and found myself surprised by a hint of softness in his usually sharp eyes.

“This chemise,” he told me softly, “can hide nothing from me. I know your soul, ma chérie, perhaps better than you do yourself. You desire things you cannot name. You sense it in the springtime air, the moonlight over a stream, the scent of lilacs in the sunshine. The world promises you something just beyond your senses, something you cannot grasp, simply because you don’t yet know how. I will show you how, my dear.”

Free Read - Novella - Love Quest

2010-07-25T09:24:00.000-07:00

Click Cover to Download the novella, Love Quest!

Born a Hinka witch on the plain of Oricitis, Megan Kristie’s sole existence is to practise the art of erotica. However, Megan isn’t like other Hinkas. She has an inner jester that prevents her from conforming to the rules.

Hinkas visit Earth to learn new ways of erotica and return to Oricitis to share their knowledge. Megan has one last Earth mission left before she can participate in the ultimate Oricitis rite: to share the Goddessa Hinka’s bed. She has been granted permission to take on a new Earth identity and live as a human, complete with a past, a job, and weird parents. There is one clause: that at the end of her last Earth mission, she must return to Oricitis. For good.

Able to relax and completely be herself on Earth, her existence as Megan has been completely erased from her mind. Now Clarissa Fielding, she’s a single woman on the search for romance. She gives herself one week to find the man of her dreams, resulting in hilarious mishaps. Zany Clarissa finds love in the most unconventional way and finally feels her life is complete.

But will Goddessa Hinka come to collect her? And will Clarissa have to return to Oricitis?

Happy Release Day, Cris!

2010-07-21T09:11:00.000-07:00

Older widow Delia Barnes is sporting a black eye when she greets fellow authors before an erotic romance convention, which she explains away by joking “I didn’t say ‘Yes Master’ quick enough.” Sitting at the bar, burned-out ad executive and former Dom Kurt Reinhardt overhears the remark—and interrupts to suggest maybe she needs “a new Master”.

Urged by her friends to accept the younger man’s invitation to learn some D/s basics—hey, an author needs to do her research, right?—Delia joins him to get first-hand experience at being submissive, starting with removing her panties in a corner booth. Later, she learns more than she bargained for when she spends a weekend at Kurt’s home…with his eager business partner added to the mix.

But an innocent misstep brings Delia’s world crashing down around her. Can she trust Kurt with her heart…and her life?

Reader Advisory: Delia gets some up-close-and-personal training during a delectable m/f/m ménage.

By reading any further, you are stating that you are at least 18 years of age. If you are under the age of 18, it is necessary to exit this site.

An Excerpt From: WHAT SHE NEEDS

Copyright © CRIS ANSON, 2010

All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.

“A woman could get spoiled very quickly here.”

He moved in close, kissed her temple. “Exactly what I had in mind.”

His scent, an exotic spice—applewood smoke and fresh air—intoxicated her. “Kurt…”

“I know. I can’t wait another second.” He lifted the glass from her nerveless fingers and set it as well as his own on a side table. His thumbs caressed her cheeks as his fingers tunneled through her hair. “I’ve been wanting to do this for a whole week now.”

“Kurt,” she repeated, her ability to string two words together suddenly deserting her.

They were almost of a height with her three-inch black pumps and his bare feet. His gaze bored deeply into hers, and it felt as if he were staring into her soul, searching for her most profound yearnings. The intimate penetration caused her lower lip to tremble. His eyes snapped to the subtle movement and he moved those last few millimeters between them and touched his mouth to hers.

Tiny explosions detonated around her lips and she softened, opened to his touch. His tongue took instant advantage, exploring the perimeter then stroking over hers, thrusting and sucking in turn until she was wild to feel him aligned against her. Yet he held himself apart, nothing touching except their lips, and his hands in her hair.

So Delia took the initiative. She snaked her arms around Kurt’s waist and arched her back, rubbing against him, thighs to thighs, hips to hips, silently berating her lack of foresight in not removing her suit jacket when she’d handed him her car coat. She wanted to feel his chest against her breasts, skin against skin. Heat bloomed inside her, seeking an answering heat. After all the phone sex she was primed for the real thing. His kisses, the solid reality of his body against hers, were dangerous to her sanity.

“Delia.” Kurt’s voice was ragged, his erection pressing hard against her as he took her upper arms in his grip and gently disengaged their bodies.

“We have all weekend,” he continued smoothly, apparently having regained his control. “I will teach you that a little anticipation, a little withholding of ecstasy, can be most rewarding.”

She couldn’t suppress a delectable shiver at the thought. Her only worry was what his reaction would be when he saw her body with its more than four decades of wear and tear. Not that she lacked self-confidence. She had it to spare. But this was entirely new territory for her.

“You’re cold,” he said. “I’m a terrible host. Here, let’s get you into the Jacuzzi. I’ve set it at ninety-nine degrees. Did you bring a swimsuit? Or would you be comfortable lolling around in your birthday suit?”

Delia blinked. This was the moment of truth. Was she a cougar or not? Did she want sex with this man or not?

Go for it! She could hear Judith urging her to grab the brass ring. Still, he was the first man she’d kissed—and what a toe-curling kiss it was!—since Robert died four years ago, and no one else had seen her naked in twenty-two years.

“Delia. Your Master is asking you to remove your jacket and skirt. Will you do that for me?”

Yes. That’s what she needed, to have the decision taken from her after all the myriad decisions she’d made at the office. And that’s why, she reminded herself, she’d removed her prim white blouse just before leaving said office. She had to take a deep breath for this. Yes, she’d dressed for seduction, but actually doing it took all the nerve she could muster.

Slowly she undid the three fabric-covered buttons from her gray faux-suede jacket and slid it off her shoulders, revealing a silky, cobalt blue bra that molded her B cups perfectly to create a gentle cleavage. His eyes flared but he said nothing as he reached out a hand for the garment. She draped it over his arm.

“Now the skirt.”

She could do this, no sweat. Just think how all the other cougars would handle it. Undo button. Slide zipper down. Wiggle hips to let the skirt slither down her legs.

He inhaled a harsh breath.

A part of her rejoiced that she could elicit such a reaction from him at the sight of her. Thigh-high sheer gray stockings rode her long legs. Bikini panties, matching the bra, barely covered her scar.

Reaching out a hand to him for stability, she lifted one leg to remove a black stiletto.

“No. Not yet.”

Seeing the lust on his face made her spine straighten and gave her a much-needed shot of courage.

“Step out of the puddle of your skirt, take it to that chair in the corner and set it down. Then come back, walking slowly.”

Was that a wobble in his voice? Perhaps he wasn’t as unaffected as he portrayed.

As she followed his instructions, she couldn’t help but notice the involuntary sway of her hips, the catwalk saunter that suddenly felt the right way to walk, to tease. Being an exhibitionist was a high she hadn’t expected.

“Sit here. On the edge of the tub.”

She did, lowering herself gracefully.

He knelt before her, lifted her left leg and slid her shoe off. Began to massage her foot, gently kneading her sole, the arch, each individual toe. Delia closed her eyes in bliss. His fingers strayed higher, to her calf, the back of her knee, the outer muscles of her thigh.

“Let’s get this off, shall we?”

Her eyes snapped open. He tugged at the elasticized lace garter, rolled the stocking down to her ankle. Then set his lips on the indentations of her skin where the elastic had constricted her all day. He licked and nipped, skimmed his fingertips across her mound as he massaged the skin.

The sight of his black-haired head so near her crotch sent a shock of cream drizzling through her pussy lips to dampen her panties.

“Don’t move, Delia.”

She didn’t even realize she had shifted her hips to bring his mouth closer to the spot between her legs that throbbed so heatedly.

After a few delicious minutes of torture, he moved to her right leg and performed the same combination of magic and teasing. Delia felt her breathing go shallow. He’d spread her legs and knelt between them. He couldn’t not smell her arousal, so close to the source was he.

“Delia. Delicious Delia. You smell of ambrosia.” Kurt’s fingers delved beneath the elastic of her cobalt panties, one hand on each side, and he slowly slid them toward each other. Hesitated. Continued until both index fingers met at the juncture that hid her clit.

“Bare. I like bare. Thank you, Delia, for that gift.” His fingers stroked abstract designs on the sensitive skin surrounding her nether lips, and Delia was glad she’d acted on a whim and shaved all of it, not just her bikini line.

Kurt dipped his head then, stroked her through her panties with firm pressure of his tongue. Delia almost jumped, but his grip on her thighs reminded her not to move. Such delicious torture, his mouth sucking, tongue delving, fingers probing, and she unable to flex her hips for more. She gripped the crown of the tub as she felt her muscles tense, her insides clench. Oh god, it felt so good, it had been so long, she was going to—

He leaned back, still on his knees. “Stand up.”

New Cave Release - Annabel Joseph

2010-07-16T05:23:00.000-07:00

Sophie finally finds the courage to reenter the Atlanta BDSM scene after extricating herself from an abusive relationship. At a local munch, she meets Dave, a funny, laid-back erotic photographer. When she sees him again later at a dungeon, Sophie is surprised by her strong attraction, and nervous about starting a new relationship, but Dave eases her fears. They embark on a sexy, thrilling D/s relationship and Sophie finds healing and fulfillment in Dave’s arms.

But Sophie is still haunted by nightmares of her past. On a dark night in the woods with Dave and his friend Ryan, frightening memories overtake her. She knows that in order to move on, she must uncover the tragedy that haunts her subconscious.

Sophie’s quest for answers brings her face-to-face with her previous tormentor. She finds herself once more in the deep woods, not only fighting for answers…but also for her life.

Reader Advisory: Contains m/f/m ménage scenes and brief but graphic violence.

By reading any further, you are stating that you are at least 18 years of age. If you are under the age of 18, it is necessary to exit this site.

An Excerpt From: DEEP IN THE WOODS

Copyright © ANNABEL JOSEPH, 2010

All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.

He placed a fingertip against her lips. “I’m not assuming anything. I am telling you that if I kiss you…if I touch you tonight the way I want to…”

The way he was staring at her made it impossible to concentrate on his words. Her eyes dropped to his lips, full and sensual. His bottom lip was perfection, something to lick and nibble. Before she could stop herself, she drew her tongue across her own lips. His hand cupped her chin and his gaze forced her to focus. “Listen to me. If I kiss you… Sophie…” He leaned forward and she parted her lips with a sigh.

The moment his lips touched hers, she felt relief. She felt a peace that had eluded her for months, perhaps years. He held her face in his hands as his mouth possessed hers. The kiss quickly intensified and his tongue pushed into her mouth. He moved closer. His hands grasped her shoulders, then ran down her arms to pull her against his chest. The entire time, his lips never left hers. He tasted her eagerly, and his kiss was demanding. She felt possessed, challenged. He could master her and she knew it. He was letting her know he could master her if that was her desire.

Oh god. One hand moved up her back to twist in her hair. He pulled hard, sending thrills of stinging pain down the back of her neck and around to her flushed face. She arched her spine and moaned against his lips. It was not in her nature to beg, although she wanted to at that moment. She wanted to plead for what she wished. She wanted to prostrate herself before him. She wanted to surrender to the intensity and fire of his touch. His touch, his touch…his fingertips were trailing back down her arms, then to the hem of her dress. She broke away and looked around. The light. Not in the light. She pushed at his hand and he stopped and pulled back.

“What’s wrong?”

“I…can’t we…the light is so bright and…and your dog is staring at me. It’s kind of freaking me out. Can’t we…? I’m sorry…”

“Turn out the lights?”

She blushed, feeling like an idiot. “Can we please?”

“I would like to see you, Sophie. Your lovely body. Your beautiful eyes.”

She bit her lip, hating this moment, hating everything about it. She could run. She could just run out the door and… No. She didn’t want to run. But she couldn’t show her body to him, not at this moment. Later. She would deal with it later. And if he rejected her when he saw the scars, at least then she would have had one night to be with him.

“Please, Dave. I’m just shy. It’s been so long and…” She looked over at Cerby again, who was helping her case by gawking at them from a couple feet away. “Your dog is sweet but—”

“You’re telling me you’re embarrassed to get naked in front of my dog.”

“Yes.” Yes, and please believe me. Please just go along with this.

Dave sighed. “That’s really the problem? It’s not that you don’t want to get intimate tonight? Because hey, we just met. I’m fine with waiting. Really, Sophie, I am.”

Nooooo. “No, I want to. I’m just… I’m weird that way.” I’m weird. I’m weird. Don’t make me show you just how weird I am. “Maybe…maybe the first time would be better in the dark. So we can really feel each other. You know?”

He nodded, his fingers caressing her hip. “Depend on our other senses?”

“Yes, exactly.”

“Well, you realize I’m a photographer, that I’m very visual. We can always shut Cerby out of the bedroom. In fact, it would probably be a good idea.”

“I guess. I mean, we could. But something about me is that I really… I really like the dark. I really, really like darkness, especially when I’m feeling…”

“Scared?” he supplied when her voice got too tight to continue. “Are you feeling scared right now, Sophie?”

“Nervous,” she whispered. “Because I really want to be with you.”

He looked down at her trembling hands and then back at her face, and something in her expression must have caused him to relent.

“Okay. Only because the first time is always slightly scary. My bedroom is really dark with the lights off, you’ll like it. We can get to know each other by touch alone.”

* * * * *

Dave was fairly sure she wanted sex. He had scrutinized her, analyzed every signal. She was obviously aroused. Her cheeks were flushed and her body language was open and willing. He was ninety-nine percent sure she wanted sex.

And he was one hundred percent sure she wanted it in the dark.

Well, it would be a new and novel experience for him, sex in the dark. He liked girls under 500-watt photography lights. He liked to see everything, every mole, every muscle, every secret place. He liked to expose girls. He liked to make them see there was nothing they could hide.

But this one, she clearly needed to hide, at least for now. She would need to be introduced gradually to his particular brand of exposure. He would train her to it.

Now was not the time.

Her hand trembled as he led her into his bedroom and shut Cerberus out. He ignored the dog’s indignant whine. Cerb was never allowed in when Dave was with girls, because he sometimes took umbrage when Dave played rough. His canine instincts, while finely honed, could not always differentiate between moans of pleasure and pain. The first time the dog had nipped at Dave to stop him from “hurting” his partner, Dave had understood and hadn’t censured him. But for safety, he locked Cerb out now every time.

“There, no more staring dog,” he said, turning to Sophie with a grin. She returned his smile and looked around his bedroom. It wasn’t huge, but it didn’t need to be. He let her see it in the light, gave her a moment to look around. He watched her take in the king-sized bed that took up the lion’s share of the space. And yes, the photography lights rigged in the corner. Cerberus’ dog bed, completely unused of course, took up another entire corner. A door on the right wall led to a bathroom. He went in to get some condoms, showing them to Sophie before he placed them on the bedside table.

“If we need them they’ll be there. We can do as much or as little as you like. I mean that, no pressure. I actually didn’t ask you here expecting you to fuck me.”

She looked away and then back at him, blushing. “I didn’t really come here to fuck you. But to be totally honest, there’s nothing in the world I want more right now.”

“To be totally honest, I hoped to God you would say those exact words.”

She giggled. She was so sweet, so beautiful. He thought of the terrible things he’d learned about her last relationship, and wondered how anyone could harm someone like her. He took her in his arms, his hands sliding around her slender waist to rest at the small of her back. He kissed her, reveling in the soft, tentative way she gave herself to him. He drew away to take one last look at her eyes before he turned out the lights. He saw so many things there in that luminous violet gaze. A jumble of emotions—fear, excitement, lust, happiness, sadness. He traced his thumbs over her delicate eyelids before dropping a kiss on each soft surface. Her long black eyelashes fluttered. Beautiful lost princess. Snow White in the forest.

“Sophie, you can trust me. I promise you can.”

“Okay.” Her voice trembled a little.

He turned out the lights and they both stood still. Darkness. It was true and total darkness. There was no moon to cast even soft light, just black empty space. No, not empty. He could feel her there beside him like a magnet. Elemental pull. His hands went to her of their own accord, drawn to her soft skin, her womanly curves. His fingers traced over her shoulders to grope for a zipper at the back of her neck and she bowed her head toward him. He felt her forehead come to rest against his chest. In the black darkness all his other senses were heightened. He could smell her fresh, flowery scent and feel the lightest brush of soft hair against the side of his chin.

He drew the zipper down and opened his hands on the skin of her back. His fingers nudged the dress down and off. He could barely make out the outline of the black bra against her pale skin as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. He reached for the clasp and undid it. She didn’t stop him, but he could feel she was tense. He stroked his fingers across her breasts, then cupped their weight. As the pads of his thumbs teased the taut peaks, he was finally rewarded with a shivery moan and the feel of her relaxing against him.

He skimmed her tights down over her hips, taking a moment to explore her curvy ass with his palms. No panties, just bare, smooth skin. It was impossible for him not to give her a couple tentative slaps. She gasped and pressed herself closer, reaching for him in the darkness. Her hands seemed at a loss for what to do, fluttering against him like lost birds. He took them hard and whispered, “Put them behind your back. Keep them there.”

That seemed to settle her. She did as he asked and stood still, her breathing even and measured. He took a few more moments to explore her exquisite ass cheeks, landing a few more smacks. Then he resumed pushing her tights all the way down her legs, his fingers tracing down thighs, knees, calves, ankles. Going by feel in the dark only made him appreciate the exquisite sensations more. He breathed in the faint scent of her arousal. Without thought, he used his thumb to probe the folds of her mons, finding hot slickness. She gave a low moan as he slid the pad of his thumb against her clit and then pressed and teased the sensitive nub. She reached for his shoulders and made a small hip movement forward.

“Hands,” he reminded her. Her hands left him and returned to the position he’d told her, but not before she sighed, “Oh, Dave…”

“Go get in bed.” He turned her in the right direction, guiding her with firm hands on her shoulders, then set to tearing off his own clothes, letting them fall in a heap at his feet. He slid in beside her, finding her by touch and scent. He clasped her, aligning her body to his. He trapped her hands behind her and found her lips in the dark.

God, she tasted wonderful, sweet. The way she kissed drove him mad, alternately tentative and eager. His cock poked against the front of her and she arched her hips forward in response. Dave was bursting. He had to be inside her. He explored her full breasts and hard nipples, then stroked down her thighs and parted her again. She was so wet. She moaned almost inaudibly as his fingers smoothed across her slick center. He wished he could see her eyes.

“Do you like when I touch you, Sophie?”

She sighed in reply.

“Yes or no?” he prompted. “Answer me.”

“Yes.” The word came out as a gasp.

New Cover Goodness!

2010-07-14T08:58:00.000-07:00