Vivien Dean

Giveaway - Synthetic Dreams by Kim Knox

2012-03-05T08:46:00.003-08:00

Kim Knox tends to be one of my autobuy authors. She always has kickass heroines and fascinating worlds, not to mention the hot sex. Her latest from Carina ventures into cyberpunk, and let me tell you, it's a hell of a ride. It's not necessarily as sexy as some of her other work, but that's because there's so much plot going on. I bought and devoured this last week in one sitting.

Vynessa Somerton was just a girl when she learned about true evil. An encounter with the tyrannical Corporation scarred her body and exiled her to the crime-ridden S-District. Now an adult, Vyn creates glamours, worn by those who visit a virtual playground to live synthetic dreams. She's tried to stay unnoticed by the Corporation, but her latest invention has brought their agents to her door.

Paul Cross works for the Corporation, but he's been plotting their downfall since they took his brother and replaced him with an imposter. Paul has a plan to get his brother back, but he's going to need Vyn and her invention to carry it out.

Vyn agrees to help Paul, but their alliance shatters the barriers she's put up to protect herself, tempting her to give in to desire. Just as Vyn starts to trust Paul and believe he wants her, scars and all, the Corporation prepares for its final move. Can Vyn trust Paul completely, or has he been using her all along?

You can read an excerpt at Carina.

All you have to do to enter is comment to this post. That's it. Next Monday at 9am PST, I'll choose a comment at random to win.

You don't need an account to leave a comment, but if you don't have one, please consider leaving an email address you can be contacted at. That guarantees I can get a hold of you in case you win.

Six Sentence Sunday

2012-03-04T03:00:00.000-08:00

Welcome to my SSS! For the months of March and April, I've decided to highlight sentences from the very first novel I had published, a het vampire erotic romance called Chains of Jericho. It was the very first book I had final in EPIC's ebook awards (then called the EPPIE), and since I find out in two weeks whether one of the two titles I have that finaled this year have won, I figured this was a good time to share the one that started it all.

The heroine is Dr. Maya Sheldon, a pediatric oncologist in San Francisco. At the start of the story, she's leaving work late, hears a cry for help off the parking lot, and runs to help. The woman she thought was dead stands up when a man shows up, and he's just told Maya he needs her to come with him. Not quite an auspicious start for our two leads to meet, let's just say.

She realized he hadn’t said, “I won’t hurt you,” which made her terror about what he really wanted burn just a little bit brighter. “I’m thinking ... no,” she started to say, and then stopped when she saw the familiar strobe of police lights at the end of the alley. Relief flooded through her as her pace hesitated, but it must’ve shown in her face because the stranger’s head whipped around to see what she was looking at.

“What did you do?” he asked.

“It’s called 911, asshole,” she retorted. “Now’s the time you might want to think about running before they lock you up.”

To check out all the other six sentence contributions, head over to the official website.

Giveaway Winner

2012-02-27T09:11:00.002-08:00

Last week, I offered a copy of Sandra Sookoo's shifter novel, "A Wolfish Scandal," as my giveaway. Picking a random name out of the hat, the winner is...

Jemrah!

Congratulations! I have your email, so expect a message from me soon!

Six Sentence Sunday

2012-02-26T03:00:00.000-08:00

Their second kiss mimicked the first—the barest of touches, the hot rush of breath—but Hal added to it with the faint sweep of his tongue, tickling at the corner of Mark’s mouth. The sound Mark made could only be a whimper, the most primal, base response of a man about to receive what he desperately needed. In this case, it was Hal, and the knowledge that all the lusts that had driven Mark for years were on the cusp of satisfaction.

“I’ve thought about that,” Hal murmured. He still cupped Mark’s nape, forming the words along his mouth so Mark could feel them as well as hear. “I always used to worry you’d say something I missed because I was too busy staring at your mouth to listen.”

To check out all the other six sentence contributions, head over to the official website.

WIP Wednesday

2012-02-22T03:00:00.001-08:00

I stopped for a bit working on this week because I thought I found my plot bunny for an upcoming pax at Amber Allure, but that didn't pan out, so I'm back to my vampires again.

-----

US Marine Curtis Lenske hung from the wooden cross on the opposite wall. His clothes had long since dried, and his once-white shirt was gray with grime. Blood caked his feet where they had caught on either the sand or something in the sea, but other than a few scratches along his heavily muscled arms and an abrasion over his left cheekbone, no other injuries marred his succulent body.

Felice hovered at the door, waiting for him to notice her presence. To the casual observer, his bowed head might indicate sleep, but she knew better. His telltale heart thudded too quickly to be unconscious, and the minute twitches of his fingers weren’t reactions to dreams. She itched to stand before him and drink him in, but this required patience. She had a strong feeling that Curtis Lenske was not a man who broke easily.

It took nearly five minutes of standing there silently for him to finally lift his head. When he did, he did so slowly, deliberately, like his skull weighed far more than the norm, and he stopped the second his icy blue eyes could meet hers through his lashes. There was no other reaction from him. No taunt. No smile. No grimace of fear. He merely waited, as she was, staring at her with the expectation that she would speak first.

Another five minutes passed where neither of them moved. In that five minutes, her nipples tightened to hard peaks and her stomach growled twice. She spoke only because she was hungry and for nothing else.

“No begging?”

He didn’t even blink. “For what?”

Felice shrugged. “To be set free, perhaps. Many men have hung from that particular cross and wept for their liberty. I would not presume that you’d stray far from your predecessors’ path.”

“But you didn’t let them go. Which means you’re not going to let me go. So again I ask you, for what?”

She liked his boldness. Confidence with a fearless attitude to back it up. It was no wonder Octavian had wanted this one as a prize. A disposition such as this combined with that physique made him quite valuable.

“What do they call you?” Long strides took her across the room, his scent more pungent with each step. By the time she stood in front of him, her mouth had watered twice and her pussy was wet. “If I’m going to keep you, I’d like to know what to call you.”

His penetrating eyes narrowed. “You know my name. You took my tags.”

“Your name and what you’re called are two entirely separate things.”

“And what do your vamp pals call you?”

“Mistress. A few have permission to use my name, but I try not to encourage that.”

Little Black Bag

2012-02-21T03:00:00.000-08:00

Looking at previous posts, you might think I'm addicted to shopping. I'm not. I promise.

I do, however, like to shop, so I'm always on the lookout for new and interesting sites.

Little Black Bag is the latest.

Basically, it takes the latest accessories craze and combines it with mystery bags and swap meets. You pick an item you want, then get two random items to go with it. You then have the option of trading items in your bag with other people to try and get three things you really want. You have a week to trade, and if you decide at the end you don't like it, you can choose to skip it entirely. You can even start over.

I shouldn't be having this much fun trying to get three things I like, lol. This is the bag I'm currently enamored with:On the other side, it says "fighter."

There's a ton of designers, from Betsey Johnson to Kenneth Cole. Items include jewelry, handbags, hats, and home items. The site just launched, and right now, I'm playing around with my first bag. I haven't signed up for a monthly membership, but I can see it happening. I don't get time to go out and look for cute things very often, so online shopping? Always a win.

Giveaway - A Wolfish Scandal by Sandra Sookoo

2012-02-20T08:34:00.000-08:00

I've got a ton of reasons for picking this week's giveaway title. First of all, it's from Liquid Silver, who I adore. They were the second publisher I ever signed with, and I've always been proud of being one of their authors. Second, Sandra, the author, is part of Six Sentence Sunday, which I love. And third, have you seen this cover? It's gorgeous!

Lyndal Carson's life is at a premium. Afflicted with a heart ailment wherein she can drop dead at any time, she makes a pact with herself to create one scandal and to really live before she dies. Tired of being a handmaiden to her family, she writes the letter that will change her destiny.

Grey Rutledge, a werewolf who is hounded by a reporter and haunted by memories, endeavors to provide a diversion large enough that the paper will forget its interest. He invites twelve women to his estate on the premise of choosing one of them for his mate. After losing his family, the only thing he wants is heirs and a woman by his side.

As the days go on, both Lyndal and Grey find that elusive piece missing from their lives. When their respective secrets are revealed, they both run the risk of losing everything. Danger catches them unaware during an innocent afternoon but it's what is decided as life hangs in the balance that will change their lives forever.

You can read an excerpt at Liquid Silver.

All you have to do to enter is comment to this post. That's it. Next Monday at 9am PST, I'll choose a comment at random to win.

You don't need an account to leave a comment, but if you don't have one, please consider leaving an email address you can be contacted at. That guarantees I can get a hold of you in case you win.

Six Sentence Sunday

2012-02-19T03:00:00.000-08:00

Welcome to my SSS! I had a short story come out at MLR on Friday for Valentine's Day, so this month, I'm spotlighting that. It's called Budding Hopes, and it's an m/m set in 1954 Baltimore. At dinner, Mark has asked Hal if he'd ever consider leaving the shop. Hal explains how it's what he's always wanted to do.

“Not to a four-year-old. Dad would get home at the end of the day, and no matter how hard he’d scrubbed his hands at the shop, there was always dirt under his nails. Plus, he smelled like all the plants. Getting a hug at bedtime was like getting hugged by the outdoors.” His smile grew wistful. “I loved it.”

To check out all the other six sentence contributions, head over to the official website.

WIP Wednesday

2012-02-15T03:00:00.000-08:00

I'm still working at Throne of Thralls, the het vampire story I posted the beginning to last week. Felice has blown up the boat of a rival vampire, but is sticking around as long as possible to make sure there wasn't a survivor...

-----

The others grew restless when the night began to warm. Sunrise approached, and none had fed. Felice had chosen her companions for this excursion carefully, but even they had their limits. The lack of bodies to wash to the shore and her command for diligence had taken its toll. She was about to give them leave to hunt in the last hour before dawn when a fresh scent caught her attention, and she stiffened, taking a step closer to the water.

Gerard immediately stepped forward as well. “What is it?” He craned his long neck, dark lanks of hair falling against his thin cheeks. “I don’t see anything.”

“Don’t look.” Felice closed her eyes and breathed in. “Smell.”

The others crowded around, too close for her comfort, but she was too absorbed by the incoming aromas to tell them to disperse. Blood, coppery and rich, pumping hard, pumping fast, spilling into the sea as quickly as it could gobble it up. Flesh, scorched and succulent, enough to make her taste buds water and her fangs itch. And sweat. Salty. Hot. The kind of sweat that came from muscles exerting themselves so strenuously that the body was forced to cooling measures.

Someone had survived the explosion. Someone who was now swimming to shore.

A human.

“Get back,” she hissed.

Immediately, they retreated, though the fresh prey tensed their reflexes so they stayed at the ready, just a couple meters behind her. Her features shifted, canines descending, eyes silvery as they turned to the edge of the water. As hungry as her minions were, the spoils were her to take, if she wished, and they knew that. Any moment now, the human would emerge from the sea, and she would know at a single glance whether it was worthy enough to feed from.

And there it was.

The sound of splashing water broke the calm first. Then came the pale slice of an arm through the surface, followed by the bob of a head. Someone fair. Another stroke. More details. The arm was powerful, a circlet of thorns tattooed around the biceps.

A man.

Felice smiled.

He reached the shallows and crawled rather than swam, coughing up water in one breath, gasping for air in the next. The muscle shirt he wore was no longer white, torn along the back and stained with soot and ash, and from his neck dangled silver dog tags that jingled in the silent night. Corded muscles bulged where his arms continued to work, and his dark blond hair was cropped to a mere stubble. Military. He had to be. He had the body of a soldier and the stamina of a fighter.

Then he looked up. Eyes the color of blue ice found her unerringly in front of him, and his sensual mouth twisted into a scowl.

“Well, shit,” he muttered. “Another fucking vampire.”

New Release - Budding Hopes

2012-02-14T08:45:00.000-08:00

In celebration of Valentine's Day, MLR released 16 stories last Friday, including one of mine. Budding Hopes is the story of a young doctor in 1954 Baltimore, who has developed somewhat of a crush on the shy, buff florist's son who has been slipping an extra flower into those he takes to his mother's grave every weekend.

For eight months, Dr. Mark Vance has been visiting Sheehan's Nursery to buy flowers for his mother's grave, and every week, Hal Sheehan slips an extra lily into the bunch. Mark would love nothing more than to get to know the gentle giant better, but in 1954 Baltimore, a man just doesn't ask another man out. His fears are compounded when a visit the day before Valentine's casts doubts on Hal's intentions. Maybe he really was meant to live a life of secrets. Or maybe he just needs the holiday to discover the best secret of them all.

Check it out!

E-book giveaway winner

2012-02-13T08:56:00.000-08:00

And...it's time to announce the second winner of the day. Last week, I was giving away a copy of KC Kendrick's "Eye of the Beholder."

And the winner is...

Sarah!

I have your email, Sarah, so expect a message from me soon!

Cupid's Choice blog winner

2012-02-13T07:33:00.001-08:00

What a great day! I'm going to have two winner posts today, one for the Cupid's Choice blog winner now, and the winner for last week's e-book giveaway that I'll do in 90 minutes (that means if I haven't posted a winner yet, you still have a chance to win, hint hint).

Thank you to everybody who stopped by and read my short story this past weekend. :) I love that little world Dan, Eliza, and Hart live in. I'm seriously debating treating it as a prequel and writing what happens with Dan and Eliza now. We'll see.

Thirty people left a comment. Picking a random number, the winner is...

Drea Becraft!!!

I've got your email, Drea. Expect a message from me soon!

Six Sentence Sunday

2012-02-12T03:00:00.000-08:00

Welcome to my SSS! I had a short story come out at MLR on Friday for Valentine's Day, so this month, I'm spotlighting that. It's called Budding Hopes, and it's an m/m set in 1954 Baltimore. Last week, Hal tracked Mark down to give him the extra flower for his mother's grave when he missed him at the store. This happens almost immediately afterward.

His legs were wobbly, and his heart threatened to explode, but he’d spent the morning trying to convince both himself and a ghost that he could turn his back on everything he was. He’d had a miserable afternoon as a result. Hal had taken a risk by looking for him. Didn’t he owe Hal the same strength? He cleared this throat. “If I wanted to buy you dinner Monday night, as a thank you for the flower and the thoughtfulness…you’d be free?”

To check out all the other six sentence contributions, head over to the official website.

Cupid's Choice Blog Hop

2012-02-10T02:00:00.000-08:00

Welcome to the Cupid's Choice Blog Hop! Thanks for stopping by today. If you've just stumbled upon my blog, well, this weekend, I'm taking part in a multi-author blog hop, celebrating Valentine's Day. If you're interested in following the whole hop, just follow this link to take you back to the hop's central page. A lot of excellent authors are participating, and there are a ton of prizes up for grabs. Go ahead! It'll be fun!

Today, I decided to write a short story inspired by prompts I was given. I say inspired by, because they were really out there, lol. Trying to find a way to make a cohesive story out of all of them would have been crazy. But I like what I came up with, and hopefully, you will, too. :)

Time's Up

When the digital clock mounted on his dashboard changed to 12:01, Dan's heartrate doubled, and his hands tightened on the wheel. Valentine's Day. This was it. He had one more stop to make, then he could drive back to the station, drop off his bus, and spend the next twenty-four hours scouring the streets of New York City. All he had was one day left to find her. It had to be enough.

The empty street loomed in front of him. It had rained all day, melting away the rest of the snow, and the road was dark and shiny from the moisture it refused to give up. His last stop was always abandoned, but he had to make it anyway. They had trackers on the buses now to ensure the drivers didn't skip anything. It didn't matter that he had one of the least traveled routes in the city, or that in the year he'd had this job, he'd not once picked anyone up at the battered bench. A stop was a stop. He'd pull up, open his doors, close them, and be on his way.

His thoughts were elsewhere as he eased up to the curb, on a night not unlike this one, under a moon not unlike the full golden orb that hung high in the sky. He could feel the wind on his face, soft grass beneath his feet. Best of all, he could look to the side and see Eliza's sleek body racing next to him, the way her lithe muscles flexed beneath her silky pelt, the gleam in her eye when she'd glance over and find him watching her. It was his favorite fantasy, his best dream. The memory he clung to when he wondered if he'd ever see her again.

The door whispered open. He'd opened it automatically. Dan counted silently to ten, his obligatory wait for those who might be racing to catch him, and when nobody came panting up the stairs, reached for the button to close the door again.

A hand shot out and caught the metal frame before it could start to shut.

Dan's nerves leapt beneath his skin at the shock of getting a passenger, but he kept his features calm and even as he glanced down to greet his last fare. At least until he met the eyes of the last person on this earth he ever wanted to see again.

"No..." he said under his breath. His stomach rebelled, the coffee he'd been downing all night to stay awake threatening to come back up. Every hope he'd been clutching disintegrated into dust, his body locked as Warden Hart took the first step.

"H'lo, Dan."

In the year he'd been away from the reserve, nothing had changed about the man he feared encountering on a daily basis. Hart might not have run with his herd in decades, but his whipcord frame told any and all that he could still keep up if he ever had to take chase again. His head was bare, age spots mottling the smooth scalp, and the deep grooves etched around his mouth proved both his age and his normal good humor. Dan had always liked Hart. Everybody did. But all of that had changed when he'd been granted his reprieve and Hart assigned to his case.

"What're you doing here?" he blurted.

Hart looked pointedly at the clock Dan had been grateful for only moments before. "Time's up."

"No." This denial came out firmer than its predecessor. He'd found the strength to force the Elders into giving him the chance to go after Eliza. He sure as hell could stand up to one lousy Warden. "I have twenty-four hours yet."

Hart shook his head. "You know the deal."

"But I have one more day."

"No, you had until Valentine's Day. No specific time was ever set." He climbed another step. "And it's after midnight. Time's up."

Panic shot through him. The deadline had always been the big black cloud on the horizon, the marker by which he set his days. But being granted the reprieve had meant subjecting himself to the rules of the outside world. He'd been slipped into this life like it had always been his, Dan Anders, still single at thirty-two, a bus driver for most of his adult life. He had an apartment in Chinatown in a rent-controlled building, but he still had bills to pay, he still had to eat. That meant working forty-eight hour weeks and using his free time to search for Eliza in this city teeming with more humans than he'd ever seen before. His shifting abilities had been stripped from him, which meant he couldn't hunt her down the only way he knew how.

A year ago, he'd been confident he could find her anyway. They loved each other. She was his mate, even if the rest of the reserve refused to acknowledge it. That meant something.

Maybe it didn't mean enough. Because in three hundred and sixty five days, he hadn't been able to see her except in his dreams.

Warden Hart's presence took away his last real hope.

His shoulders slumped. "So what now? I have to go turn my bus in."

"Leave it."

"Here? They'll need it for tomorrow."

"That's not your problem anymore."

Of course not. The Elders could pull him out of the life they'd given him as easily as they'd put him in. Dan Anders would cease to exist, scrubbed from memories or maybe just killed off in some random act of violence like so many other faceless victims in the city.

When he glanced past Hart's shoulder, Hart shook his head. "I wouldn't try it. You know I'll catch you."

"You couldn't just go away for another few hours? Give me a chance here, Hart."

"You run, and the Elders will punish you when we get back to the reserve."

"I won't have Eliza. That's punishment enough."

The look in his eye was pure pity. "They don't have to hurt you to do it."

His meaning sank in, and Dan's nausea became its own entity. Eliza had been permanently banished from the reserve for seeing him behind her pack's back, but just because she no longer knew who or what she was didn't mean she was free of the Elders' power. "All right." Turning off the engine, he pocketed the keys. Hart cocked a brow at him, but Dan shook his head. "Nobody's stealing my bus."

Hart let it go, hopping back down to the curb to wait for Dan to join him. Every step Dan took was leaden, as heavy as his heart. He'd blown it. Eliza would never be his now.

The air was chilly, the wind brisk, cutting through his thin jacket and drawing goosebumps and shivers even after he pulled his coat tighter and buried his chin in the collar. "If you tell me we have to walk back to the reserve, you might as well kill me now," he bit out.

Hart headed up the street, long strides forcing Dan to quicken his pace to keep up. "We have to get out of the city for the Elders to find us."

"Did you not hear the part about me not walking? It's freezing out here."

"Which is why we'll find a taxi."

Dan ground to a halt. "Are you nuts? No taxi is going to be in this neighborhood at this time of night."

Hart didn't speak. He just smiled and looked up the road.

Following his gaze was natural. Dan didn't know why he was surprised when the twin headlights approached their spot on the corner. The cab slowed, then stopped right in front of them.

Dan sighed. "You just have everything figured out, don't you?"

As the passenger window rolled down, Hart took a step back. "Something like that."

"Did one of you call for a ride?"

The husky alto erased the cold and the night and all the aches that had taken over in the time he'd stuck to his duty and pulled over for an empty stop. Slowly, Dan bent down and met the warm brown eyes he'd given up hope on ever seeing again. "That would be me," he said, hesitantly.

She looked past him at Hart, giving Dan the chance to sneak a peek at her ID on the dashboard. Eliza Jensen. Her golden-brown hair was pulled back into an unflattering ponytail, and she had shadows under her eyes like she never got quite enough sleep, but it was her, beyond a shadow of a doubt.

"You coming, too?" she asked of Hart.

"Not this time."

With a brisk nod, Eliza sat back in the driver's seat, the click of the back doors unlocking sharp against Dan's ears. He reached for the handle, but paused before opening it.

"What about...the reserve?"

Hart shrugged. "Looks to me like you did what you were tasked to do. I don't have the power to take you back now."

"I get to stay?"

"That's what it looks like."

He had the overwhelming urge to hug the crap out of Hart, but the cab was idling, and Eliza was too close to turn his back on now. He settled for a small wave and slid into the rear of the taxi.

"Your friend's going to freeze his ass off out there," Eliza commented once he was inside. "He sure he doesn't need a lift somewhere?"

"No, he'll be fine."

"Then what about you?"

He rattled off his address, unable to take his eyes off her, lest she disappear on him again. Though Eliza pulled away from the curb, her gaze continually jumped back to her rearview window, catching his every time.

"Have you been in my cab before?" she said. "You look familiar."

"I don't think so." He couldn't risk lying to her and getting caught out. He needed her trust. He needed her. "Maybe I just have one of those faces."

She smiled, and every second of misery of this last year without her was forgiven. "Maybe."

* * *

Hart watched the taxi turn the corner, ignoring the sudden presence of the man at his side.

"You're taking a big risk," Wolfe commented. "We're not supposed to interfere."

"The Elders gave them jobs that would make it impossible for them to find each other. I just gave them a fighting chance."

Wolfe nudged his shoulder. His size scared anyone with half a working brain cell, but Hart had known his fellow warden too long to be intimidated. "There will be repercussions, you know," Wolfe said.

"I know."

"And?"

The car was gone, with Dan and Eliza inside, fulfilling the Elders' demands, satisfying the kismet that had chosen to throw these two together as mates in spite of their opposing packs. Hart turned away and gave Wolfe a broad smile.

"It's worth it."

THE END

Remember those prizes I mentioned? I'm giving away a pound of See's truffles and a $10 Amazon gift card to a random commenter (unless you're outside of the US, in which case you'll receive a $30 Amazon gift card), as well as adding a copy of my m/m wolf shifter story, Moon-Touched to the Nook Touch we're giving away as a grand prize. Thanks for stopping by and enjoy the rest of the tour!

Adding in the exercise

2012-02-09T03:00:00.000-08:00

Now that my inlaws are back in England, and my life has resumed some of its (normal) routine, I have moved on to the next step of getting healthier.

Exercise.

It should be a four-letter word, shouldn't it?

I hate it, I'll admit it. Though I played baseball as a kid, I was a sprinter not a long distance runner. I'm good with exertion in short stints, very good even, but stamina and I are not good friends. There have been times in my life when I got onto the exercise bandwagon, but honestly, those were times when things were less hectic--before kids, before two transcontinental moves, before writing. Fitting exercise in these days is a lot harder than it used to be.

But my weight loss has plateaued. And I know it's better for me to be moving. And as much as I hate it, I need to find a way of scheduling it in.

It's not as difficult as it could be. A few years ago, my husband and I took the money we were shelling out for a gym and bought an elliptical machine for home. That was all we ever really used regularly at the gym anyway. It sits in the garage, complete with a shelf to set a laptop or iPad on to watch as it gets used.

I added that last week. My calves haven't completely forgiven me yet.

I'm alternating the elliptical with toning exercises while I watch TV at night. Often I would sit on the couch with some kind of craft project or my laptop while I watched, but I decided that I can use half an hour of that time to get on the floor and target those areas that need it.

My thighs aren't speaking to me, either.

That's okay. I know they will eventually. Because the rewards for doing this will eventually be noticeable.

Do you hate exercise as much as I do?

WIP Wednesday

2012-02-08T03:00:00.000-08:00

I've been finishing up other projects and doing editing, so my WIP Wednesday posts have slid to the wayside. However, I'm in the midst of a new project and getting back on track, so today, I'm sharing the opening of it. It's called "Throne of Thralls," and it's a het vampire erotic romance.

-----

Without a moon, the Mediterranean lapped like black ink against the sand, barely disturbing the fine grains. The tourists would be out in full force in the morning, and the sun would turn the sea into the crystal blue of postcards, but for now, everything on the Toulon beach was still and silent, including the small coterie of people staring out over the water. There were five in all, but Felice Dautin was the sole woman of the group. The night swallowed everything but her outline, and she held her head high as she kept her gaze fixed on the horizon.

Soon. She anticipated it would be a splendid display.

From the city behind her, the soft hum of sleeping humans tried to distract her from the passage of time, but as always, it failed. She had not risen to her position of power by being weak. Their wait might be precautionary at best, but it served its purpose. She would watch, unblinking, unfailing, until she witnessed the destruction she’d worked so hard to gain.

A human would have missed the explosion. It might have seen the flare of orange streak across the horizon, but the yacht was too far away from the shore to be visible, and the blast was sucked away by the distance.

But none of the five were human. And when the Serendipity detonated as Felice had planned, all five vampires heard it.

Look, it's another blog hop!

2012-02-07T03:00:00.000-08:00

So this weekend, I'll be taking part in a Valentine's Day blog hop with a whole host of other authors. Lots of stories, lots of fun, and oh yeah, a grand prize of a Nook Touch already loaded with our books! I'll be giving away something to a random commenter on my post as well, so you'll have lots of reasons to stop by. :)

Giveaway - Eye of the Beholder by KC Kendricks

2012-02-06T09:00:00.000-08:00

I'm always glad to highlight releases from Amber Allure, so this week's giveaway is a short story from author KC Kendricks.

Some neighbors share more than others...

Andy Madison is city born and bred. Filling in for a friend at a coffee shop, Andy meets Ben Hardin and sparks fly. They spend a long, lazy Sunday afternoon together to get to know each other, and when they decide to let nature take its course, they go to Ben’s cozy apartment.

Ben’s taking his time becoming acclimated to his new life in the big city. He’s got a great job he loves, he’s making new friends, and his starter apartment has the most incredible views a young man could dream of. Ben’s discovered there’s more to admire than the arts, music and architecture. All he has to do is look out his window and across the narrow alley.

Andy thinks he’s seen it all living in the Big Apple, but what he spies through Ben’s window is something that can only be enjoyed by the eye of the beholder...

You can read an excerpt at Amber Allure.

All you have to do to enter is comment to this post. That's it. Next Monday at 9am PST, I'll choose a comment at random to win.

You don't need an account to leave a comment, but if you don't have one, please consider leaving an email address you can be contacted at. That guarantees I can get a hold of you in case you win.

Six Sentence Sunday

2012-02-05T03:00:00.000-08:00

Welcome to my SSS! I have a short story coming out at MLR for Valentine's Day, so this month, I'm spotlighting that. It's called "Budding Hopes," and it's an m/m set in 1954 Baltimore. Dr. Mark Vance has been going to Sheehan's Nursery for the past eight months to buy flowers for his mother's grave, and every week, Hal Sheehan slips an extra lily into the bunch. When Hal misses him at the store one week, he tracks Mark down later that night to give him the extra flower.

Inside weren’t just some pretty petals that would flutter apart and die without the proper care. This was more fragile, more valuable than anything he could have imagined. It felt like hope. Hal had gone out of his way to seek Mark out, to make good on the unspoken promise they’d made to each other all those months ago, the first time Mark had opened the wrapped lilies and found one too many. Mark had returned to the shop the following week, wondering whether or not to say anything, lingering longer when Hal asked how his visit had gone, but he’d walked out without having mentioned a word of it. At the graveyard, he’d discovered the added flower again, and again the week after that.

To check out all the other six sentence contributions, head over to the official website.

In which I buy shoes

2012-01-31T03:00:00.000-08:00

I talked about my obsession with Baublebar a couple weeks ago, but to be honest, my love for shiny jewelry isn't alone. It extends quite a bit to most accessories, like purses and shoes. My daughter doesn't quite understand the fascination, though now that she wears adult sizes, she's beginning to see a little of it. But when I had to go to DSW this past weekend to use some gift cards before they expired, I still got the, "But you don't need shoes!"

I ended up getting *cough* three pairs, one from clearance, one to replace brown casual boots, and one I just couldn't resist.

The clearance pair were just a pair of plum loafers, uber comfortable and very versatile.

Then, I got a pair of Not Rated oxfords, butter soft and so comfortable:

But my purely unnecessary purchase were these wedge platforms:

I have no idea where I'll wear them, but I couldn't resist. I wanted them desperately to hurt my feet so I could have a reason not to buy them, but no such luck. They're as comfy as the oxfords and to much fun.

Giveaway Winner

2012-01-30T08:58:00.000-08:00

Another Monday - where has January gone?!? - and another winner to announce! Last week, I was giving away a copy of Cara McKenna's latest from Ellora's Cave. So without further ado, the winner is...

...StacieD!

I have your email, Stacie, so expect a message from me very soon!

Six Sentence Sunday

2012-01-29T03:00:00.000-08:00

Welcome to my SSS! This will be the last week I'm highlighting one of my Zodiac books, Capricorn: Forgotten Faces. In this final segment, Caleb has just figured out how to retrieve his lost memories, reliving them and realizing what all of them really mean.

All helped flood me with the reminder of how desperately I had loved this man. Because these were the threads that had bound us together. Moments that had created the life we wove. His face became indelibly etched on my brain. I saw Leandro when I slept, when he was outside and I was in, when I was away on assignment and desperate to return to my simple existence. Everywhere I turned, he was there.

To check out all the other six sentence contributions, head over to the official website.

Giveaway - Convenient Strangers by Cara McKenna

2012-01-23T08:20:00.000-08:00

I seem to have found a theme. Another of my favorite SSSers, Cara McKenna (Meg Maguire's hotter alter ego) has a new release at Ellora's Cave, and boy did I glom onto that as soon as it came out. Now I'm sharing a copy with one of my readers.

After three weeks of post-breakup wallowing, Adam’s in dire need of a cold drink and a cure for his romantic hangover. At his favorite bar, he spots that cure in the form of a six-foot-something muscular man, custom built to Adam’s fantasy-rebound specifications. But his hopes for a therapeutic one-night stand are dashed the second he approaches the decidedly surly English stranger.

Stephen’s nursing romantic wounds of his own—fresh ones. He cut his closet-case lover loose just hours earlier, and now, heartbroken and homeless, he wants to be left alone to drown his sorrows in peace. But that’s no excuse for snapping at the friendly, handsome guy who only wanted to flirt. Plus, if anyone needs to be reminded how good a bad idea can feel, it’s Stephen.

Both men could use a reckless rebound to cleanse their palates. The sexy, dirty solace of drowning in a stranger’s hands, mouth and body. But when something deeper sparks, strings-free one-nighters never look so simple in the morning light.

You can read an excerpt at Ellora's Cave.

All you have to do to enter is comment to this post. That's it. Next Monday at 9am PST, I'll choose a comment at random to win.

You don't need an account to leave a comment, but if you don't have one, please consider leaving an email address you can be contacted at. That guarantees I can get a hold of you in case you win.

Six Sentence Sunday

2012-01-22T03:00:00.000-08:00

Welcome to my SSS! For December and January, I'm highlighting one of my Zodiac books, Capricorn: Forgotten Faces. This comes very soon after last week's six, with Caleb and Leandro in bed about to have sex. Caleb has seen the love in Leandro's face and been stunned into silence.

...All of a sudden, I yearned to take those emotions blazing in his eyes and wrap them around my lifeless heart. He could resuscitate it. I knew he could. The prospect both thrilled and terrified me.

Though my silence extended longer than I would have normally allowed it, Leandro didn’t push me to speak. He waited for me to catch up to where he’d been for centuries, and I knew, deep inside, he’d wait even longer if that was what it took.

To check out all the other six sentence contributions, head over to the official website.

Falling in love with BaubleBar

2012-01-17T00:32:00.000-08:00

So...I'm a little jewelry obsessed. It started young, mostly because jewelry never had sizes. I stopped wearing a lot when my daughter was born, because she was a puller and a biter. My mother-in-law's gold locket still bears my daughter's tooth marks, lol.

But now that they're older, I've slowly integrated pieces back into my life, and it's come to a raging addiction this past year. In November, I discovered a site called BaubleBar. I'd seen a picture of a bracelet someone was wearing, fell in love with it, and promptly looked up where she got it from. The jewelry ranges in prices from $20 up into hundreds, but there's enough in that lower end---and much of it still so unique---that it's still more than worth it.

Basically, you sign up but you're never obligated to buy anything. Signing up just gets you into their reward program, where, for every $50 you spend, you earn a credit. With those credits, you can purchase pieces in their Vault. I bought my very first vault item this week, these smokescreen drops:
But I was bad, and convinced myself that even though I'd already purchased my one piece this month that I allow myself, I couldn't make an order with only a vault item in it. So I ended up getting these matisse cuffs as well:
I couldn't resist. Yes, I'm weak. :)

One of their other treats? Every Friday, they have a "buried bauble" where they select something under the $50 price point and sell it for $10. They did that for the first three weeks of December straight, as a prelude to Christmas. I got some fantastic pieces then.

So if you're curious about it, go and take a look. I've had superior experiences with them, and recommend it highly. You can even put me down as having referred you, if you want.

Giveaway Winner

2012-01-16T08:48:00.000-08:00

January is half gone already? When did that happen?!? Yikes, so much to do...including announcing who won last week's giveaway.

And the winner of The Given & the Taken is...Sarah S.!

I've got your email, Sarah, so expect a message from me soon!

Six Sentence Sunday

2012-01-15T03:00:00.000-08:00

Welcome to my SSS! For the next two months, I'm highlighting one of my Zodiac books, Capricorn: Forgotten Faces. Caleb has had a peek into Leandro's memories and learned he's telling the truth about their acquaintance. The heightened emotions has driven them to bed, where Caleb gets his first good look at the tattoo he doesn't remember giving Leandro.

...The sweeping curves were utterly smooth, each symbol balanced, each integration perfect. His erect nipple was at its center, but the marks heightened his appeal rather than suppressed it. I wondered how he’d felt as I’d given it to him, if it had hurt when my blood had burned its way into his skin. I could imagine him stoic in the face of pain, eyes steady on mine as I did the task, love shining in their depths.

Without thinking, I bent my head and dragged my tongue along the uppermost symbol. Leandro shuddered and arched away from the bed.

To check out all the other six sentence contributions, head over to the official website.

Giveaway - The Given & the Taken by L.A. Witt

2012-01-09T09:01:00.001-08:00

One of the Six Sentence Sunday authors I always try to hit every week is L.A. Witt. Excellent stories, strong heroes, the works. So how excited am I that there was a new release last week?!?

After pleading his case to his wolf clan’s Elders, Levi is granted the right to bond with Ian, his male human lover, on one condition: they must spend one year apart. Then Levi must use only their spiritual connection to find Ian, or the deal is off.

Tracking down his lover is easy, but Levi isn’t prepared for the changed man he finds.

The agony of separation was too much for Ian. In a moment of weakness, he reached out—to a vampire. Now he’s a vampire himself, and Levi’s devastation—and rejection—is like a stake to his heart. But it’s nothing compared to the fury of the clan that wants Ian brought to justice for desecrating their most sacred ritual.

Afraid for Ian’s safety, Levi puts the pain aside and races to get to Ian first, but he faces unexpected competition: Darius, Ian’s maker. When they come together, all hell breaks loose, Ian is on the run…and the only way Levi and Darius can save the man they love is work together.

If they don’t kill each other first.

You can read an excerpt at Samhain.

All you have to do to enter is comment to this post. That's it. Next Monday at 9am PST, I'll choose a comment at random to win.

You don't need an account to leave a comment, but if you don't have one, please consider leaving an email address you can be contacted at. That guarantees I can get a hold of you in case you win.

Six Sentence Sunday

2012-01-08T03:00:00.000-08:00

Welcome to my SSS! For the next two months, I'm highlighting one of my Zodiac books, Capricorn: Forgotten Faces. To try and discover what is going on, Caleb has just done a spell that has allowed him a peek into Leandro's memories. This is his reaction.

My eyes flew open to see Leandro slowly setting down the guitar, but my racing heart had spots dancing in my vision, blood red and white hot to match the heat seeping from my pores. Sweat glued my shirt to my back and my hair to my temples, and the light scruff of my beard itched from the dampness.

But I was frozen in place, trying to decipher the rampaging confusion coursing through my thoughts and flesh. Emotions that ran so deep, I ached even when left with only their memory. Possibilities that went against everything I believed, presented in my voice, with my face. Truth that shouldn’t have been, because its existence threatened the very world I’d created for myself.

To check out all the other six sentence contributions, head over to the official website.

Lose It

2012-01-05T03:00:00.000-08:00

In my busy life, anything that makes it easier is appreciated. It's always been that way. When I've gone on diet plans in the past and succeeded, it did so because of broad rules. "Eat as much as you want from these basic foods," kind of mentality. Even Weight Watchers had that plan, because I had to face facts, I hated counted calories or portions.

Now that I'm older, that kind of general thinking wasn't really working well. Last spring, my husband reached his breaking point about his weight and opted to try a calorie counting app called Lose It. He showed so much success in that first month, and I had to count everything for him anyway so he could log it, I decided to give it a go.

I fully believe that accountability, that knowing of how big my portion is and tracking my calories, is in large part responsible for the success I've had this time.

Even over the holidays, when we pretty much stopped tracking because we weren't so much losing as just holding ground, the mentality that Lose It instilled prevailed. We were always aware of portion sizes, and times when we could be better about calories, we certainly took them. Now, I'm ultra-aware of just how oversized everything really is, as well as how many different fatty things go into processed and restaurant food to make them taste good.

For some people, they won't care. And I don't blame them. The argument can be made that it's better to enjoy life than cheat yourself. But you know, I don't feel like I'm being denied anything. I can eat what I want as long as I record it and am prepared to face the consequences. For me, the consequences of my weight being unhealthy aren't worth it. There are so many diseases in this world that I can't do much about to prevent. Some of them are genetic. Some of them will happen for no apparent reason. But those related to my weight? Those I can control. And I will. I'm not willing to cut my life shorter because I'm indulging in one particular area. What about wanting to see my kids grow up? Seeing and enjoying grandkids if they have kids of their own? Getting to spend retirement with my husband and enjoy each other's company the way we want? Those are just as important. If not more so.

Giveaway Winner

2012-01-03T09:06:00.000-08:00

I am only just beginning to wrap up the holiday festivities here around my family, so I can finally get back into the swing of the blog again. To start out with my first duty of the week, I need to announce the winner of my last giveaway.

The winner of Lesserblood Lies is...Sadie Hart!

I've got your email, Sadie, so expect a message from me soon!

Six Sentence Sunday

2012-01-01T03:00:00.000-08:00

Welcome to my SSS! For the next two months, I'm highlighting one of my Zodiac books, Capricorn: Forgotten Faces. Leandro has claimed to have known Caleb before, knowledge Caleb is trying to come to grips with.

And as difficult as it was to believe I’d ever be so foolhardy to do what he claimed, too many coincidences stacked in his favor.

I bent my head. I pressed my lips to the top of his spine. My eyes closed in silent supplication, and I prayed fervently that I could take this man and keep him for my own, without any of the retribution that seemed inevitable.

I knew it couldn’t be.

But even an immortal can hope.

To check out all the other six sentence contributions, head over to the official website.

Giveaway - Lesserblood Lies by Ainsley Davidson

2011-12-19T09:15:00.000-08:00

A couple years ago, I read an EPPIE winner called A Greater Art. It was a rich, fantastic sci-fi romance. So color me surprised to see that the author has revised and republished it with Carina! I loved it before, so I can't even begin to imagine how much better it must be now.

To protect her children from the despotic Trueblood, Merianne defied them by taking her girls and fleeing the planet. Even though Merianne's daughters are Lesserblood, they have the Talents. The Trueblood would train her children to use their dangerous gifts, but their methods are cruel, and Merianne would never see her girls again.

Merianne tries to give her girls a safe, quiet life, but when they befriend Thorne, a brilliant scientist, she finds herself drawn to the kind and captivating man—despite his uncanny resemblance to the Trueblood.

Thorne wants to help the girls control their emerging Talents, and he's intrigued by their mother. But just as Merianne finally accepts Thorne's help, two of her children are seized. To rescue the girls, Merianne and Thorne must risk death at the hands of the Trueblood, who will kill to protect their lies.

Six Sentence Sunday

2011-12-18T03:00:00.000-08:00

Welcome to my SSS! For the next two months, I'm highlighting one of my Zodiac books, Capricorn: Forgotten Faces. Caleb and Leandro have kissed, but afterward, Caleb discovered that Leandro bears a tattoo on his chest that only Caleb has, and that only Caleb could infuse with the power it has. Problem is, he doesn't remember Leandro or ever sharing his tattoo with anyone.

“...If I’d had anything at all to do with sharing my design, I’d remember.”

The shake of his head could only be described as forlorn. “Not if you’d erased me.”

“If I’d erased you, you wouldn’t be standing right there, annoying me to death.”

“You can’t die.”

“How do you know that?”

To check out all the other six sentence contributions, head over to the official website.

Jingle Bell Hop winner

2011-12-12T08:51:00.000-08:00

I hope everyone had a blast with the Jingle Bell Blog Hop! Thank you to everyone who took the time to stop by. I loved having the chance to share Rayce and my little story with you.

And now, it's time to pick the winner of an Amazon gift card and a free book from my backlist. I've picked a random number from everybody who commented and the winner is...

Meagan B!

I have your email address, so expect a message from me soon! :)

Six Sentence Sunday

2011-12-11T03:00:00.000-08:00

Welcome to my SSS! For the next two months, I'm highlighting one of my Zodiac books, Capricorn: Forgotten Faces. Last week, I introduced Caleb, a creature created by the Higher Powers to erase lives. He's given an assignment that sends him to Alaska and a man named Leandro. The man has proved a real puzzle, and Caleb figures that perhaps a more intimate approach will help fathom him out. This is their first kiss, one Leandro actually initiates.

The first caress was almost chaste, his ripe mouth catching on my lower lip where my skin was dryer than his. I smelled coffee on his warm breath, which inexplicably prickled my taste buds. I’d only just sipped my own, but this hinted at something richer, more sunshine like that created by his music beating down on the back of my neck. My lips parted for more of it.

He took that as an invitation.

I think, perhaps, it was.

To check out all the other six sentence contributions, head over to the official website.

Three French Hens

2011-12-08T15:24:00.000-08:00

Welcome! Thanks for stopping by today. If you're following the Jingle Bell Hop, you've come to the Third Day of Christmas. If you've just stumbled upon my blog, well, this weekend, I'm taking part in a multi-author blog hop, celebrating the holidays. If you're interested in following the whole hop, just follow this link to take you back to the hop's central page. A lot of excellent authors are participating, and there are a ton of prizes up for grabs. Go ahead! It'll be fun!

For my post, I've written a short story, using my day as inspiration. I hope you enjoy!

Three French Hens

Simon didn't mind so much not getting home for Christmas. He wouldn't miss the way Aunt Penny always got smashed on Southern Comfort and forced everyone to sing along with her as she played every Barry Manilow song ever written on the piano. He'd be free of Dad's new tool frenzy, where anyone with testosterone--and a few without--were herded into the garage to play with whatever Mom had bought him this year. He'd especially be free of the New Year's clean-up where he and Dad were left fixing everything he'd broken during said frenzy, like new holes in the garage walls or wiring that suddenly made the coffeemaker turn on every time somebody used the nightstand lamp in the upstairs guest bedroom. There'd be no game night with all the sore losers, or getting sick from eating too many of Grandma's rum-laced mince pies, or listening to his little sister Kim prattle on and on about her new boyfriend.

He sighed as he turned off his laptop. Who was he kidding? He was going to miss the whole shebang. As well as the fact that the only person who didn't mock him for using the word shebang in everyday conversation was his nephew Cooper who still thought Simon was the coolest guy ever even though Christmas was the only time he ever got to see the kid.

The faint strains of Christmas music filtered through his closed door. Though the party wasn't in the office, everybody else had stopped working at lunchtime, getting prepared early to walk over as a group to the restaurant down the street the company had reserved for their holiday blowout tonight. The Paris satellite office wasn't that big--only eighteen people, almost half of which were out on a daily basis on face-to-faces with clients--but VMI believed in celebrating success. Simon had seen the numbers for the Christmas budget. Small countries could run on what VMI was throwing at their employees this holiday season.

He wasn't going. Though he'd been working in the Paris office for a few weeks now, he didn't feel like pretending he was happy about spending Christmas alone. The conversion to the new warehousing system had to be fully operational--which meant coded, tested, and installed--before the New Year. Nine days to get it done, which was why he couldn't afford to lose any of them by flying back to San Francisco to see his family. Add in the fact that he didn't really need to watch his office crush--a guy named Rayce with killer blue-green eyes who zipped through the streets of Paris on his motorcycle like he had a death wish--flirt with everyone with a pulse except Simon, and the whole night had misery written all over it.

So he had a plan. Because he didn't normally log off work before six, if he was already gone by the time the others came looking for him, he'd be safe.

Safe went out the window when the doorknob turned in his grasp and he was brought up short by the one person guaranteed to foil his plans.

"There you are." Claudie's upturned smile beamed as bright and innocent as always, but the calculating gleam in her brown eyes gave away the fact she knew exactly what he'd been about to do. Her pixie-like youth fooled almost everyone. Only those in the inner circle understood how dangerous that facade truly made her. But a woman didn't reach a VP position like hers by the age of twenty-six without a few tricks. "Just the man we're looking for."

We included Claudie and the two women flanking her. The Juliettes. Juliette #1 was the office receptionist, a voluptuous fortysomething divorced mom with a Brad Pitt fetish and a yen for Buttery Nipples, while Juliette #2 ranked low girl on the marketing totem pole, a soft-spoken, bottle blonde who'd shocked Simon his first day with her encyclopedic knowledge on all things eight-legged. The trio dogged Simon's free, and not so free, time. Not maliciously. He didn't think there was a malicious bone between all three bodies. He liked to imagine them as the three fairies from Sleeping Beauty. Except more organized. And French.

"You found me," he said. "What can I do for you ladies?"

"Now how's that in the spirit of Christmas?" Stepping forward, Claudie looped her arm through his, trapping his laptop case between them. "Christmas is about giving, what we can do for you."

"And good will," chimed in Juliette #1.

"Don't forget mistletoe," came from Juliette #2.

"Which, of course, leads to kissing."

"And then more kissing."

"And we're getting a little ahead of ourselves," Claudie said. "Come. Let's go to the party, shall we?"

The party was the last place he wanted to be. "Actually, I'm not feeling very well," he tried. He hunched his shoulders a little and grimaced to simulate a stomachache. "Something at lunch disagreed with me, I think."

"You had half a cheese sandwich and coffee," Juliette #1 said. "How could that make you sick? You eat it every day."

His lips tightened into a hard line. Damn it. He'd forgotten she knew everything on everyone when it came to their schedules and eating habits.

"You just need something to distract you." Claudie tugged at his arm, but he kept his feet glued to the floor which only ended up in him bowing over even farther. "The party is perfect for that."

Technically, Claudie outranked him. His director position back in San Francisco was vital, certainly important enough to make him the go-to guy in the international conversions, but this wasn't his native soil and her title carried more weight than his. If she wanted, she could order his attendance and not bat a thickly mascaraed eyelash. That wasn't her style, though.

"We have a surprise, just for you."

That was.

As gracefully as his overladen shoulder allowed, he extricated himself from her grip and stepped back. "I'm not so good with surprises."

"You don't have to be." Juliette #2 came around to his other side, leaving #1 blocking the doorway. He wouldn't get through it now without bowling her over. "We've done all the work for you."

"Work?"

"It's not work," Claudie said quickly. She shot #2 a sharp glare that vanished as fast as it had appeared when she swiveled back to Simon. "Why would we give you a Christmas gift that was work?"

"So...this is a gift."

"Of course."

"And you couldn't just give it to me here?"

All three of them tittered. Only French girls could do that and not make it sound ridiculous.

"It's not wrapped," #1 said.

#2 looked thoughtful. "It's got a bow."

Another round of titters.

"It's too big to carry through the office," Claudie explained. "You have to come out and get it."

Her trap was so blatant, he was almost disappointed. Of course, there wasn't a gift. This was their way of making sure he went to the party. Somehow, Claudie had figured out he didn't want to go and planned this ambush to guarantee he attended.

He made one last ditch effort for freedom. "This seriously couldn't wait until tomorrow? I could get it when I come in."

Claudie shook her head. "Now."

With a sigh, he turned on his heel and went back to drop his laptop onto his desk. The three women waited patiently for him to come back, both Claudie and #2 linking arms with him in case he tried to make a run for it once they were clear of the door.

The music grew louder as they approached the receptionist area. At the last minute, Claudie steered him away from the clustered desks and into the narrow corridor that led to the conference rooms. He frowned. Had he got it wrong? Maybe they really did have a present for him and they'd feared his antisocial behavior would trump their generosity.

They stopped at a closed door, one without a window so he couldn't get a glimpse of what might be inside. Claudie disengaged from his arm and reached for the doorknob, glancing back and smiling as she pushed it open. "Merry Christmas, Simon."

The light was on, but the only thing the long conference table had on it was Rayce's backside as he leaned against it. He straightened when they appeared, pulling to his full height and drawing all eyes up and down his long form. Six-three, the body of an Olympic swimmer, legs encased in jeans Simon knew for a fact had the most delicious wear across the seat, a white, long-sleeved sweater molded over his broad shoulders...and a big red bow hanging around his neck.

Rayce smiled, and everything inside Simon knotted together into a bow Martha Stewart would be jealous of. "Merry Christmas, Simon." His English wasn't quite as good as most of the office's, but his heavier accent gave his baritone a lilt that was better than any vibrator Simon could've bought and laid directly on his balls.

"What's this?" Simon croaked.

"Your gift," Claudie announced proudly. "Nobody should be alone for Christmas."

"But..." Words failed him. He didn't get it.

"You don't have to go to the party." Claudie's voice had taken on a gentler tone, as if she could feel his confusion. "It's been obvious you didn't want to for days."

"This was my idea," Rayce added. "We'll finally get the chance to get to know each other."

His face went hot, probably beet-red from the feel of it. "I'm not...I didn't..."

"Oh, cherie." Claudie patted his arm. "You are, and you do, but I knew you'd never say a word to Rayce. And he likes you, too, so all is good, non?"

He didn't know about good, but short of skittering away like a roach away from the light, he didn't have much choice but to try and brave this with as much dignity as possible. Rayce's amazing eyes twinkled warm and steady on him, too, appreciative in ways Simon had only witnessed aimed at others, never at himself. As far as presents go, he wasn't sure if he could've come up with something he'd wanted more this year, outside of going home for the holiday.

"You wanted this?" he said carefully. "You've barely talked to me since I got here."

Rayce tilted his head. "What I say...I thought you'd be bored. You're the smartest man here." He laughed. "And I'm not."

But there was more to a potential date than being an intellectual match, even if that actually mattered to Simon which it didn't. There was also compassion and laughter. Simon had known about the latter, but until now, he'd wondered about Rayce's capacity for the former. This banished any lingering doubts.

"All right." He smiled, hoping he didn't still look nervous. "I'm game if you are."

With a bold laugh, Rayce pulled the bow over his head and sauntered forward until Simon could feel the heat radiating from his body. "I like this." He looped the bow around Simon's neck, using it as a rein to draw him closer, close enough for his hot breath to fan over Simon's ear. "We'll both be game."

Behind him, the Juliettes tittered before Claudie shushed them. As she herded them out the door, leaving Simon and Rayce alone to discuss the particulars of their evening, he made a mental note to take a long lunch the next day to go buy Claudie the best Christmas gift he could find.

He already had his.

THE END

In case you're curious about Rayce, this is how I envision him:
That's French model, Willy Monfret. I'm absolutely in love.

Remember those prizes I mentioned? I'm giving away an e-book from my backlist and a $25 Amazon gift card to a random commenter, as well as adding a copy of my 2012 Epic finalist, Capricorn: Forgotten Faces, to the Kindle Fire we're giving away as a grand prize. Thanks for stopping by and enjoy the rest of the tour!

Look what's coming!

2011-12-06T03:00:00.000-08:00

This weekend, I'll be taking part in the Jingle Bell Hop with a ton of other fantastic authors. Wonderful prizes, great posts to read...there's no way you can go wrong.

Hope to see you there!

Giveaway Winner

2011-12-05T09:12:00.000-08:00

I'm still in love with all my restructured fairytales, and today I get to announce the winner of last week's story inspired by Rapunzel.

The winner is...Alanna Coca!

I've got your email, so expect a message from me very soon!

Six Sentence Sunday

2011-12-04T03:01:00.000-08:00

Welcome to my SSS! For the next two months, I'm going to highlight one of my Zodiac books, Capricorn: Forgotten Faces. It's a finalist in the Paranormal Romance category for the 2012 Epic eBook Awards this year, but I figure it's appropriate for the upcoming months.

Some call Caleb the Angel of Death, but he knows better. He doesn’t kill. He erases life. Centuries ago, the Higher Powers created him to walk the terrestrial plane, eradicating those from existence who have either earned punishment or asked for dissolution. This is the story about one assignment that doesn't go as usual.

Were it not for the instruction "fast," I could find it simple to indulge in the man’s allure before eradicating him from the terrestrial plane. His was a body that wouldn’t break easily. I knew that without even having seen it in all its glory.

But time was not a flexible mistress. I lacked it and would lack even more if I didn’t start moving.

The paper went into my pocket, unnecessary for now, but not forgotten.

To check out all the other six sentence contributions, head over to the official website.

Memorable characters

2011-11-29T03:00:00.000-08:00

There's a new book out on the market, a biography about classic film actress Hedy Lamarr. One of the sex symbols of her time, the new look at her life talks about more than her acting career. It discusses her passion for inventing, and goes into detail how this beauty was smart, too.

Who would've thought it? I certainly didn't. I've always dismissed Lamarr as a second-rate actress who skated by on her looks, and while that might be true, it's not the whole story. In fact, she's an excellent model for any of us writers, not just that beautiful women can be smart, too, but by showing that there's always more to a person that meets the eye.

It's easy to give a character a lot of positive attributes. We want our readers to like them, to be able to relate to them. But giving them diversity without sacrificing the core of who they are? Giving them weaknesses so they can make mistakes? That's harder. A lot harder. Some writers miss the mark, but then again, there are readers out there who like the perfect people, too. There's something for everybody.

But most of us want some realism in what we read. We want characters we can believe in, even if they happen to be vampires or live on a different planet where everybody has mental telepathy. It's the need for emotional truth as well a desire for someone who isn't always what they seem to be. We go through our lives in a constant learning state. The people we know the best can still find ways to surprise us years after we think we know everything about them. It keeps us engaged and interested when people show new depths, and the same holds true for fictional characters.

So the next time you sit down to sketch out a protagonist, think about not just what makes them strong, but what makes them weak. What makes them human. The most exciting plot in the world doesn't mean a damn if the reader doesn't care about the people involved in it. And it's our job to make sure that happens.

Giveaway - Braided Silk by Ella Drake

2011-11-28T08:51:00.000-08:00

Everybody must've got distracted by the holiday and holiday shopping last week, since nobody signed up for the giveaway. Oh well, I hope people still go out and buy it. Toni's an outstanding author.

Since there's no winner to announce today, I'm going to have another giveaway. This one's in honor of my newfound love for Once Upon a Time.

Rapunzel was made with technologically advanced hair. As a trained Mother agent, Zel can't escape the DNA that makes her a pawn in corporate espionage. Kidnapped and held in a tower on Gothel Island, she falls prey to the sexual allure of her captor’s son, Langley, a man whose every tantalizing touch makes her forget she wasn’t born human.

Langley Gothel protests the existence of creations such as Zel, but when faced with losing her, he sees the truth: Life is precious, whether born, modified, or shaped in a Petri dish. He does the one thing he thought he'd never do. He has to give up Zel, or become a mod. But will that be enough go get them down from the floating islands and safely to ground?

Six Sentence Sunday

2011-11-27T03:00:00.000-08:00

Welcome to my SSS! For the month of November, I've been highlighting snippets from my LSB m/m/f vampire erotic romance, Mercy of These Bones. Mathias got shot, bringing them more unwanted attention from the police, but when he says he's leaving town, it sparks a fight with Edmund, one in which Darby intercedes.

“...in case that’s not enough, I’m also the only one who really cares what happens to the pair of you. If I had any sense at all, I’d turn you both over to this Assembly myself. But I’m not doing that, and do you know why?”

Apparently there was no stopping Mathias when it came to Darby. “Because of those little noises we get you to make when you come?”

Heedless of his other injuries, Edmund smacked Mathias on the side of the head.

To check out all the other six sentence contributions, head over to the official website.

What I'm grateful for

2011-11-24T03:00:00.000-08:00

Today is Thanksgiving here in the US, which means different things for different people. Being married to a Brit and living in the UK, I didn't celebrate it for a few years, but since we've moved back, it's slowly trickled back into our lives. I don't get to have dinner with family as mine lives primarily on the east coast. Instead, we have friends over, and the day turns into a three-day fest of everything we're most grateful for.

This year has been a lot of ups and downs in a lot of ways, but focusing on what I'm grateful for will help me not focus on the downs so much.

Like...

...my husband. I met my husband at a very low point in my life, an awful situation he helped extract me from. Since then, he's been my best friend and biggest fan, and I'm grateful every day that I was lucky enough to find him when I did.

...my kids. My daughter is 11 about to be 12, my son turns 10 in three weeks. They're at ages where they're asserting independence far more than they ever did before, so we've had some minor tiffs as we find a new balance in the house, but honestly, they're such great kids. They're smart and polite, so well-behaved it's embarrassing sometimes. And they still think I'm cool, which is always great to hear. I love them to the moon and back, and am grateful every day I have them.

...not having to worry about day to day economic problems. My husband has job security up the wazoo, which in this economy is a godsend. I'm grateful that I can still have fun with my writing without feeling the pressure. It's about creating stories I want, which is always a bonus.

...knowing so many truly cool people. I can't begin to list the people who inspire me to be better on a daily basis, just because of who they are. But I'd like to think they know who they are.

I could go on and list silly, individual items like my iPad, or Starbucks mocha light frappuccinos, or pretty jewelry, but I won't. These are nice, but transitory items. The real gems to treasure are those that don't disappear after a day.

WIP Wednesday

2011-11-23T03:00:00.000-08:00

Garen dreams...

-----

Garen dreamed of gossamer winds and pale limbs, both entwining around him in bonds he couldn't break even if he wanted to. Though the air hinted at an approaching winter, his flesh was heated, ready and throbbing as if he waited to spring upon an unsuspecting prey. Here, though, he wasn't a hunter. He wasn't a guard. He had no duties to protect a family that wasn't truly his. He existed because he could, because free will wasn't a privilege but a right.

He could stand tall and proud, dismissing any who claimed otherwise.

When he slept, his thoughts often went to the land of his birth, a lush, verdant paradise compared to Dhivin and its surrounding provinces. In xxx, cities were considered a plague. Villages never grew beyond a few dozen people, because when they reached numbers too great for the earth to sustain, the younger members were forced to move on, encouraged to create their own village, a place to call home that was unique to them and them alone.

Garen had left his village before being requested. His pride had demanded it. He'd outgrown the education his elders could provide, gone through all the books, asked questions they could no longer answer. The only way not to choke on their ignorance was to find different teachers.

He'd never found them. But in spite of that, he continued to yearn for the gentler way of life of his youth, escaping there in his dreams.

Until today, he'd always been alone.

The body curled into his on the thick, sun-soft grass stirred, adding gentle breath to the wind that ruffled his hair. He knew without looking down that it was Klea. The scent of her skin transplanted him from the harsh brightness of Dhivin. Only her generous curves fit against him like this, like a secondary self to master and keep. She moved when he moved, allowing the perfect balance without him having to utter a single word.

His arms tightened around her. He couldn't risk letting her go, not when he'd only just found her.

When he woke up on his narrow bed, the winds that had whispered through his sleep now raged in fury, the storm outside still unsettled. His body was hard, aroused and alert, but his mind wasn't frustrated from the lack of release. If anything, he was more alert, blithely uncaring of the day's cruel magician that usually whisked away the good temper created from his nightly escape. He dressed with speed and efficiency, eager to see Jae and learn what new developments had transpired while he rested.

Black Friday

2011-11-22T03:00:00.000-08:00

I used to be an avid Black Friday shopper. I was never so insane to be out the door at 4am, but I still went out at 8 or 9 and shopped for most of the day. It was all about the deal and saving money at a time of year when we typically spend far more than usual.

When stores started going online, that all changed. I've been an avid online shopper for over a decade, and now that stores are finally seeing the benefits in providing the same kind of sales to virtual customers, I don't go out anymore. Instead, I go to all my favorite stores' websites and shop that way. The benefits are tremendous:

1. No searching for a parking spot.
2. No dealing with insane customers.
3. No rooting through racks trying to find that one great deal.
4. I don't even have to put on shoes, lol.

Amazon's sale started yesterday. I know a lot of authors have problems with Amazon, but honestly, I love them. I can get great deals, we get free shipping for our annual prime membership, and I can find items I might not be able to get locally. I still shop brick-and-mortar stores as much as I can, especially Barnes & Noble, but at this time of year, it seems insane not to take advantage of saving a few dollars where I can.

Other stores have started their sales early. Last Saturday, Old Navy did a store promotion where adult outerwear was 75% off for a few hours. I ended up getting two wool coats for $35 total, and my daughter got her new coat for $15. Seriously, how can I say no to those kind of sales?

Do you do Black Friday shopping? Where do you like to go?

Giveaway - Edge of Survival by Toni Anderson

2011-11-21T09:00:00.000-08:00

I love me some romantic suspense, so I was thrilled when I discovered Toni Anderson at Carina. I read Sea of Suspicion and loved it, so how excited am I that she has a new release today? Enough to get another copy for this week's giveaway!

Dr. Cameran Young knew her assignment wouldn't be easy. As lead biologist on the Environment Impact Assessment team, her findings would determine the future of a large mining project in the northern Canadian bush. She expected rough conditions and hostile miners—but she didn't expect to find a dead body her first day on the job.

Former SAS Sergeant Daniel Fox forged a career as a helicopter pilot, working as far from the rest of the human race as possible. The thrill of flying makes his civilian life bearable, and he lives by his mantra: don't get involved. But when he's charged with transporting the biologist to her research vessel, he can't help but get involved in the murder investigation—and with Cameran, who awakens emotions he's desperate to suppress.

In the harsh and rugged wilderness, Daniel and Cameran must battle their intense and growing attraction while keeping ahead of a killer who will stop at nothing to silence her...

Six Sentence Sunday

2011-11-20T03:00:00.000-08:00

Welcome to my SSS! For the month of November, I've been highlighting snippets from my LSB m/m/f vampire erotic romance, Mercy of These Bones. Darby and Mathias had a go last week. Now it's time for a little Mathias and Edmund.

There was no time to gauge Edmund’s reaction before the other vampire’s mouth crashed to his, fangs tearing through his lip to coat them both in blood. Mathias opened to the assault, welcoming the ravenous sweeps of Edmund’s tongue, but all too soon, Edmund was breaking away, the tight hold he had on Mat’s head all he needed to start pushing him to his knees.

“Should have fucked you into submission four years ago,” he said. His eyes gleamed silver as he regarded Mathias kneeling in front of him. “Or chained you to the bed to keep you from doing something as stupid as breaking the siring laws.”

Mathias would have come back with some smart remark, but his brain had stopped working at the sight of Edmund’s thick cock visible at the open vee of his pants.

To check out all the other six sentence contributions, head over to the official website.

Giveaway Winner

2011-11-14T08:56:00.000-08:00

Welcome to Monday, which means it's time to give away a new book!

Last week, I offered a copy of Reaper to one lucky reader. And this week's winner is...Super Happy Jen!

I've got your email, so expect a message from me soon!

Six Sentence Sunday

2011-11-13T03:00:00.000-08:00

Welcome to my SSS! For the month of November, I'm highlighting snippets from my LSB m/m/f vampire erotic romance, Mercy of These Bones. Last week, Darby found Edmund pinning Mathias in her storeroom. This week, she's learned they're vampires and found Mathias cuffed naked to Edmund's guest bed.

“Is this really the woman who wouldn’t kiss me this morning?” he taunted. “Or is it just because you get to be on top? Don’t deny you weren’t creaming at the thought of cuffing me when I mentioned it at the club.”

Fire crept along every spare inch of her skin. She blamed that for what came out of her mouth next.

“That was nothing compared to what dreaming of Edmund fucking you did to me.”

To check out all the other six sentence contributions, head over to the official website.

Where I've been

2011-11-10T03:00:00.000-08:00

I have struggled with my weight my entire life. I was a chubby baby, a plump child, a curvy teenager. I moved away for college a size 14, a size I maintained for several years until an abusive relationship sent my weight upward. When I finally managed to escape that five very long years later, I worked through diet and exercise to get some of it off, and eventually found my 14s - and occasional 12s - again.

Then I moved to England to get married. I got pregnant quickly, and the weight crept back on. I got pregnant again when my daughter was a year old, and more weight came back. After my son's birth, I decided to do something about it since I was done being the baby factory, and worked to get down to the lowest weight I'd had as an adult, even getting into size 10s, which I'd never done before in my life.

When we moved back to the US, everything went to hell again. American-sized portions. Foods I hadn't had in five years. The stress of living in a part of the world where my nearest family was thousands of miles away, and I had two children under the age of four. The weight came back. And more.

Fast-forward to January 2011. I'd been having problems with my hip, and an appointment with an orthopedist confirmed it was arthritis. "You're obviously too young for a hip transplant," he said, "so this will be about pain management for quite a while." The one thing I knew for sure would help would be finally losing weight for good. For every pound lost, that's four pounds of pressure off my joints. It was healthier for me, too. I have a history of adult-onset diabetes in my family as well as heart problems. Now was the time to start taking care of myself.

Well, now turned out to be May 30, lol. I needed the right mindset, as well as time to really tackle it. As of today, just over 5 months later, I've lost 33 pounds and have gone from an 18/20 to 12/14. I'm not done. I'm a little over halfway to the goal I set for myself, though if I can get to it, I might end up aiming a little lower. We'll see how my health is when I get there.

Part of what I'm hoping to do as I get healthier is create accountability. That means talking about what I'm doing, passing along my tools, using Thursdays on my blog as a sounding board. Today, that means talking about where I've been. Next Thursday, it'll mean talking about how I'm getting to my final destination.

WIP Wednesday

2011-11-09T03:00:00.000-08:00

Still working away at my het romance, still don't have a title for it...

-----

Her hair hung loose over her pale gown, falling over her shoulders to hide the shadows of her nipples from his sight. She'd scrubbed her face clean of the artifice she didn't require to be beautiful, and her wide eyes tilted up at him, made even wider by the shadows hollowing below them. In some ways, she appeared a child caught in the aftermath of a nightmare. In need of comfort. In search of aid.

His initial instinct was to take her into his arms and soothe it all away. He actually took a step toward her before he realized what he was doing.

"Mistress." He bowed his head, holding the pose in hopes that would help him regain some control. His effort was in vain. The vision of her standing there was already burned onto his consciousness.

"Since you're here, I would guess you had no luck tonight." She spoke softly, though nobody was around to hear her. "Did you learn anything at all?"

"No." To admit it aloud hurt more than he'd imagined. "But I will not give up until you're safe."

"I know."

He didn't dare lift his head yet. "You should be asleep."

"So should you."

"It's my duty to watch you through the night. Jae will return at dawn to relieve me."

"And you'll sleep then?"

"Yes." For a few hours, at least. Only what he absolutely needed to function before resuming the hunt.

"I can't." Her confession was a whisper, and yet it boomed within his soul. He glanced up at her through his lashes to see her lower lip quivering a split second before she sucked it between her teeth. Even now, she fought to maintain her dignity, to prove to him she was strong, but the simple gesture undid every resolution he'd made for himself. "I've been trying. My thoughts won't settle."

"I could call for Physic Ragan. He can give you something to help."

"No, I've been enough trouble as it is. I don't want to disrupt everyone even more than I have."

Not a single person within the canton would ever begrudge her for this kind of disruption, but he had the sneaking feeling she wasn't fully aware of how warmly she was regarded by everyone. Even if it was his place, he couldn't argue with her on this one point, either. She would never agree unless dire straits required it, and a little insomnia hardly counted.

"What about Shani?" he offered. "She would be more than--"

"Would you come in?" she said, too quickly, as if afraid she'd lose the nerve. Considering the events of the past couple days, he thought that might actually be the case. He was seeing more of the true Klea than he ever had before, and she was far more vulnerable--and infinitely braver--than he would've guessed. "You could just stand by the door. Perhaps knowing you're so close will help me relax."

Such a move was dangerous. Too dangerous. "You'll know I'm close if I stand on this side of the door as well," he said gently.

She looked crestfallen. "I'm not asking for another lesson." The first sign of color was returning to her face, twin spots of bright pink blooming high upon her cheeks. "I just want some company."

"You can have Shani."

"I don't want Shani. I want you, Garen."

The fierceness in her voice surprised both of them. Klea caught her breath, while Garen finally straightened. He'd witnessed hints of the depths of her passions, both the morning she'd first made her proposal and then when he'd come to her chambers, but this surmounted it all. How much did she hold back because of her station in life? What kind of powerhouse could she truly be if she wasn't restrained by this region's stringent social codes? The more Garen discovered, the more convinced he became she was too good for all of it, not just a union with Rey Bonsu.

Giveaway - Reaper by Mina Carter

2011-11-07T03:00:00.000-08:00

This week's giveaway is a Samhain release from last week that has me all kinds of intrigued. It's one of their End of Days titles and looks fascinating.

Sanctuary. Clichéd name, but the sentiment is still the same. Ten years after the end of the world, ex-soldier Mason and a small group of humans defend their fortified town against creatures of myth and legend made real. But with dwindling game to hunt and a lycan pack in the area looking for an easy meal, just surviving is getting harder every day.

Andy has a few screws loose, and she knows it. She’s been on the road since the bombs fell and changed humanity forever. Driven by inhuman instincts, she tracks the newly and soon-to-be dead and dispatches their souls to the afterlife. Sometimes they go quietly, most put up a fight. She doesn’t care either way. Her ambition in life is to find her next hit of coffee and one day, maybe, sleep in a real bed again.

Then Andy’s instincts bring her to Sanctuary and its enigmatic leader, Mason, and even the world after the end of the world will never be the same again…

Six Sentence Sunday

2011-11-06T03:00:00.000-08:00

Welcome to my SSS! I've done m/m for the past two months, and het the month before that, so for the month of November, I'm doing snippets from my LSB m/m/f title Mercy of These Bones. It's an erotic romance about Edmund, a vampire, who's in love with a human, Darby, but then the vampire he sired and spent decades with returns to town, with his own problems to deal with.

“Thought I was going to have to throw Tati in your face again to get you well and truly brassed off.”

Edmund scowled, but before he had the chance to say anything, the door flew open to reveal a very determined Darby, her pistol firmly in her hands.

“I’ll call…” she started to threaten, only to stop when she saw Edmund. Her eyes widened, and the gun lowered for a moment. Then she saw Mathias, looking very much like he’d just been hit, and she lifted it again, aiming it at him this time.

“Oh, I like her,” Mathias taunted.

To check out all the other six sentence contributions, head over to the official website.

Amber Allure Bestseller List

2011-11-05T03:00:00.000-07:00

I got some good news this week. Amber Allure's bestseller list for October came out, and guess who was at #3?

1. Love's Baggage - T. A. Chase (Gay / Dark Fantasy / Werewolf)
2. Tame - A. J. Llewellyn (Gay / Dark Fantasy / Werewolf)
3. Moon-Touched - Vivien Dean (Gay / Dark Fantasy / Werewolf)
4. Conway - D. J. Manly (Gay / Dark Fantasy / Werewolf)
5. Nathan's Angel - Melissa Bradley (Gay / Dark Fantasy / Werewolf)
6. Pushing The Envelope 2: RSVP - Kim Dare (Gay / Contemp. / BDSM)
7. Devotedly His - Shawn Lane (Gay / Contemporary)
8. More Than Anything - Shawn Lane (Gay / Contemporary)
9. The Institute, Book I: Healer - Cassandra Gold (Gay / Paranormal)
10. Blood On The Mountain - India Harper (Gay / Contemp. / Suspense)

I'm definitely chuffed about it, especially since it's been a slower writing year for me this year.

A few people have asked me about whether or not there will be a sequel. The answer is YES. With the pax collections, we have a 40k word limit, so I had to find a natural break in their story in order to meet that. However, there's more to be told, mostly because Andre and Thomas still have a lot to overcome. It's probably going to be novel-length, and it will be out at Amber Allure as early next year as I can manage it.

Crazy, Stupid, Love

2011-11-04T03:00:00.000-07:00

Though I love movies, I don't get to see as many as I used to, at least, none of the grown-up variety. Ah, the joys of having kids, lol. But one of the few that I've managed to see this year just came out on DVD, and if you haven't seen it, I highly recommend you get out there and grab it up.

What's the movie? Crazy, Stupid, Love

I had zero expectations going into it. I'm not normally a fan of Steve Carell, and all I knew was that it was a man in his forties whose wife asks for a divorce out of the blue. What I got instead was a fantastic ensemble piece reminiscent of some of my favorite Robert Altman movies, with amazing insights into all the different kinds of love there are in this world.

And, oh yeah, Ryan Gosling.

I have to admit, I've never seen him in a movie before. Part of that is the reason stated above. With two kids under the age of 12, most of what I've seen in the theater in the last ten years has been animated. I've had Half-Nelson in my Netflix queue forever, but never found the urge to actually watch it. But he was amazing in this. His character could've come off as so terribly smarmy that you hate him, but he manages to find the pathos of the character and show his growth. It's a fantastic performance.

Plus, well, pretty. :)

So for those few who haven't seen it, I strongly recommend giving it a go. It's funny and romantic and too good to miss. I put it on my Christmas wishlist. And if the hubby doesn't get it for me, I'll be picking it up myself the day after the holiday, lol.

WIP Wednesday

2011-11-02T03:00:00.000-07:00

Halloween and a stupid sinus infection slowed me down a little this past week, so my word count on this isn't as far along as I'd like it to be. Well, and there's a new bunny that distracted me a little bit before I got it under control again, lol.

Klea's station doesn't afford her many friends. Her handmaiden, Shani, is the only one who really fits that bill...

-----

“Mistress?”

Shani’s curious call shattered the spell winding around Klea. Her arms jerked to her side, and she met the handmaiden’s eyes as directly as she could. “Is the bath ready?”

“Yes.” She stepped aside to allow Klea room to enter. The questions were there, lurking in her gaze, but she wisely held her tongue from further queries. “Do you wish privacy?”

Part of Klea did. She wanted free rein to think of Garen without fear of being watched. But being alone would lead her thoughts down darker paths, which wasn’t necessarily best. Besides, Shani knew everything that was going on, as well as had been with Jae and possibly Garen prior to coming to Klea’s chambers. She might have answers to some of Klea’s questions.

“Stay, please.” She stepped over the edge of the polished white tub, the crystals from the sand from which it had been forged glittering in the light of the lamps. The water was hot and silken, perfumed with one of her favorite massage oils, and she sank into it with an audible sigh, closing her eyes as she leaned her head back against the rim.

Water splashed. Shani’s sure hands swept the soft wash rag along Klea’s arms, moving in slow, hypnotic circles that erased all memory. In the water’s sanctuary, Klea was tempted to fall asleep and let Shani see to her ablutions, but Shani would never speak unless spoken to first, and if Klea wanted answers, she had to be the one to address the topic.

“Somehow, I did not see these events transpiring when I rose this morning,” she said, trying to keep her tone light. “Who knew accepting a marriage proposal could create such havoc?”

Shani laughed at her small joke. “That seems like something far more suited to one of your sisters than you, Mistress.”

“Perhaps. Though I don’t think they would have waited until the seventh proposal like I did.” When Shani didn’t immediately respond, Klea opened her eyes to find her friend gnawing on her lower lip. “What? Is something wrong?”

Shani lowered her lashes, concentrating on dipping the rag in the scented water. “I guess I just wondered if you’ll still go through with the ceremony.”

“Why wouldn’t I go through with it? It’s hardly Sire Bonsu’s fault.”

“No, but…” She weighed her words while running the cloth over Klea’s arm again. “Nobody wishes to see you hurt, Mistress.”

“I won’t be. The guards shall see to that.”

“I know. Jae and Garen would give their lives before seeing harm befall you.”

Klea frowned. “I thought nobody else was to know of the threats that were made.”

Shani’s attention snapped upward again. “They don’t. Not…directly. But it’s clear someone meant to hurt you this evening, and the servants, well…” She blurted the rest, speaking so quickly Klea almost didn’t catch it all. “Many think you deserve better than the Bonsu house, Mistress. You don’t need this union like the Sire does, and we’d rather you stay here and be safe than go off and marry him just because it’s good for trade.”

Her jaw clicked shut as soon as she was done, and she sat back on her heels like the effort she’d expended admitting the latter had exhausted her. Klea took the cloth from her limp hand and set it aside, sitting up in the bath to speak with her on the same level.

“I’m grateful you’re worried about me,” she said with a smile. “But I’m not entering this union lightly. Too many people depend on this marriage to work, and I don’t want to let them down.”

“And if the next attack succeeds?”

“It won’t. I trust Jae and Garen to do everything they can, and if that means I have to spend the next month locked in my room, then that’s what I must do.” Though admitting that aloud weighed on her spirit far more than it had letting it fester unspoken.

Shani didn’t seem pleased by her response. “It’s hardly a fitting place for you,” she complained. “It would be simpler to call off the ceremony.”

“Perhaps. But the things with the most worth are often those that require the greatest effort. It’ll all work out in the end, Shani. Trust me.”

As Shani nodded and resumed her washing, Klea wished she believed whole-heartedly in her own assertions. So much could happen in the span of thirty days. So much had already happened in just one. If, for any reason, Garen wasn’t quite as quick the next time, or her enemies a little bit smarter, she might not live to appreciate a wedding at all.

The understanding chilled her to her bones. She shivered, in spite of the warm water.

Nanowrimo

2011-11-01T03:00:00.000-07:00

Today marks Nanowrimo for a lot of my friends, a month-long event to try and write 50k. I wish them all the best, but I'll be honest, I don't participate. For a few reasons.

First of all, November is the second worst month of the year to try and get stuff done in this country. There's Thankgiving to worry about, plus the upcoming Christmas holidays, with a whole host of educational/school-related events that can affect you whether you're a student or a parent. My time comes at a premium from now until mid-February (my kids both have birthdays in that time period on top of the holiday stuff), and I have to be very strict in how I portion it out.

Which leads me to two. A 50k goal is fantastic, mostly because it really pushes people to stop dawdling and just write. But honestly? I already treat my writing like it's my full-time career. I have word counts I do everything I can to meet every week. So I already put out that much every month, not just one month a year. Now, some of that never sees the light of day, while some is purely for my own entertainment, but there's enough that I don't ever feel like I'm slacking.

Nano is great for the push and support it provides writers, though. For everyone out there giving it a go this year, I wish you all the best!

Giveaway Winner

2011-10-31T08:47:00.000-07:00

Happy Halloween, everybody!

I don't have tricks, but I do have a special treat for one lucky reader. It's time to announce the winner of last week's giveaway.

And the winner is...qbee2!

I have your email, so expect a message from me very soon.

Six Sentence Sunday

2011-10-30T03:00:00.000-07:00

Welcome to my SSS! For the month of October, I've been featuring snippets from my Boys of the Zodiac novel, Libra: Outlined in Ink. In this last installment, Eli and Jarrett finally get some peaceful alone time.

With his arms wrapped tightly around Jarrett’s shoulders, he poured his heart into their kisses, for better or worse, and silently begged Jarrett to fill in the blanks.

It felt like he did.

His lips moved in the same ways, his tongue sought out the same corners of Eli’s mouth, yet, Eli knew the difference, there in the touch of a hand or the small sound Jarrett couldn’t hold back. He hooked a leg around the back of Jarrett’s calf, the only reminder he could create about what they’d been leading toward. If they didn’t get around to fucking, he’d miss it, but he wouldn’t regret what was likely to take its place. Curtained within the walls of Jarrett’s arms, his body sang, more alive than he could remember it ever being before.

To check out all the other six sentence contributions, head over to the official website.

Project Runway - The Season That Wasn't

2011-10-28T03:00:00.000-07:00

I was a latecomer to Project Runway. This is only the third season I've watched all the way through. But this season more than the others felt far more manipulated.

First of all, this incessant need to keep saving Anya? I don't get it. Yes, I liked her in the beginning, but honestly, she hasn't earned the right to be in the finale like this. Her mini-collection was miles worse than everybody else's. They saved her the week she lost her money by giving the designers a second part to their challenge. They've made excuses for her time and time again. So I wasn't really thrilled going into this last episode.

I really thought Victor should have been the winner. He was the most consistent throughout the season and the smartest when it came to tackling real problems. He had a couple misses in his final collection, but compared to everything else he created this season, it shouldn't have mattered.

I mean, what were the judges smoking to give it to Anya? Oh, right, she's got a point of view. Her gowns flow beautifully, and yes, she's got a great eye for print. But...she's got one silhouette that she does. It's the same silhouette she's shown all season. She can't figure out how to get people into her clothes without sewing them in. She...oh, I can't. I'm still annoyed.

Who did you want to win?

Where do we draw the line?

2011-10-27T04:00:00.000-07:00

Recently, NPR ran an article about a recent book, Sybil Exposed, that discussed how the woman the book Sybil was based on basically admitted she was faking it, and yet, the psychiatrist continued to treat her as well as publicize the story for her own financial gain. While it has its own merits for discussing journalistic integrity, or pop psychology becoming the norm, or the problem of real psychiatric issues being clouded by fake data, what still strikes me is the writer's aspect of it.

The original writer, psychiatrist Dr. Connie Wilbur, received her patient's confession in the middle of writing her book, after she was already committed to completing, after she was already speaking publicly about her subject matter. She chose to go on with it, explaining everything away, that it was just more subterfuge on her patient's part. In the end, her story was more important than truth. How often do genre writers face the same dilemma?

I won't touch the issue of journalistic integrity. What I'm talking about is how writers can sometimes take shortcuts, either by choice, ignorance, or market necessity. It gets explained away as, "Well, I'm writing escapist fiction. The reader doesn't want the truth. They just want to get lost in the story." Which is true, to a degree. The question becomes, then, where do we draw the line?

Readers often put a lot of trust into the writers they read. They trust historical writers to get their facts straight. They expect internal world logic. They want genre norms to be met. What happens when we give them false information? Well, if it's factual, it'll yank a reader in the know out of the story. They might not commit to the writer whole-heartedly again. It's the reason so many readers don't like to read about what they already know, i.e. lawyers reading about lawyers, medical professionals reading about doctors and nurses, and so on. Because they are the most intimately aware of the milieu, they're usually the first to spot the errors, thus destroying the illusion reading is meant to evoke.

Wrong facts also present the danger of perpetuating falsehoods. How many of us actually believe a silencer is quiet? We take these interpretations, gleaned from books, from TV, from movies, and apply to them to future situations. That's dangerous, through and through.

The matter of artistic license is one every writer needs to answer for themselves. Some lines get drawn in the sand because of genre. For instance, romance readers expect protagonists to be sexually faithful, yet in real life, for instance, gay men tend to be more accepting of sex for the sake of sex, able to dissociate the act from the emotion. Put that into an m/m romance, and you better have some darn good explanations for it, or some readers will be most unhappy.

I'll admit, it's frustrating sometimes. I do everything I can to research details before seeing a story go out to the world, and still, sometimes something gets by. I push boundaries as much as I can on genre expectations, but I'm well aware that I skirt the edges of it too much for a lot of readers.

If you're a writer, where do you draw the line? What about readers? Do you prefer the fantasy if the truth gets in the way of the story?

WIP Wednesday

2011-10-26T03:00:00.000-07:00

I really need to come up with a title for my WIP at some point, but I'm concentrating at this point on just getting words on the screen for a first draft. It currently stands at 36k and chugging along quite nicely.

Klea has just survived the first attack on her life...

-----

Klea turned her face into his chest, her quick breaths tickling along his bare skin. It wasn’t sexual. She sought comfort, he told himself. Still, placing her gently atop her blankets was more difficult than it should have been, his disloyal flesh responding to her femininity when it had no right to.

He put a safe distance between him and the edge of the bed, though he suspected no such thing existed any more. She tracked his movements without speaking, not arguing when he conducted the rest of his search to secure her rooms. He ended at her terrace windows, spending more time than necessary examining the hinges, the locks, the curtains. There wasn’t even a rough edge where careless housekeeping had splintered at the frame. Nobody had attempted entry from this point.

“Garen.”

It was the first word she’d spoken since coming upstairs, and he turned to see her attempting to sit up. At her first sway, he was there, at her side, bending over to provide a strong arm upon which she could brace.

Her fingers fluttered, hovering over his tense wrist. The fragile skin at the hollow of her throat dipped as she swallowed, and he fully expected the touch of her hand to be just as brittle.

It wasn’t. The fingers that curled around his forearm radiated strength, and she branded his skin with hers as she sat up.

“It surprises me that I was so unprepared.” She spoke with her eyes downcast, perhaps regarding the join of her body to his. “I've grown up with guards in every corner of my life, and yet, this is the first time I’ve ever felt truly threatened.”

“My apologies, Mistress. It should never have happened.”

“Because you would have stopped it?”

“Because I should have.”

Klea looked up at that, and her trusting gaze slashed through the command he’d forced upon himself. Garen had no choice but to retreat, unfolding her hand from his arm, then resting it on her lap so he could stand back.

“But you saved me,” she said. “How did you know?”

The memory of the metallic glint flashed before his mind’s eye. “I saw it, though too late. I cannot say for certain the architrave was checked today, but I can assure you that nothing will be overlooked again, Mistress.”

The corners of her mouth drooped. “I preferred it when you called me by my first name.”

He glanced at the door, ensuring she saw his notice and understood. “There's a time and place for that. This is not one of those.”

“Will there ever be one again?”

Yes, he wanted to say. Oh, yes. Then, he would sink to his knees and banish any memory of her near-miss with searing kisses along her delectable curves. He would teach her more of what it meant to know her body’s responses, how it could crave both a firm hand and a gentle touch, all at the same time.

He almost did it. Then and there. She made it so easy, looking upon him as if he was a man and not her slave.

The only reason he didn't was because of the knock at her door.

Giveaway - Long Way Home by Carolyn Gray

2011-10-25T09:00:00.000-07:00

I know, I know, I usually do giveaways on Mondays, but a very dear friend of mine had a book come out last week on Tuesday, and since I want to shout to the world about how fantastic she is, I'm changing my usual. Because she deserves it.

This book has been a long time coming. It's the sequel to her first, the wonderful A Red-Tainted Silence. But luckily for all of us, she won't be waiting nearly as long to get her next story out.

Musician Lee Nelson is determinedly single. His bandmates don't even know he is gay. He's managed to keep that important fact about himself, as well as any details of his painful past, out of conversation. But the past starts to catch up with him when the band travels to Dallas, Texas, and an anonymous gift of ballet tickets leads him to ballet dancer Gevan Sinclair--his first love's brother.

Gev is a professional ballet dancer, but just as the past has its grip on Lee Nelson, so too does Gev struggle--namely, with the disappearance of his brother, Stefan. Gev had always had a crush on Lee Nelson, but crushes are for kids and he'd forgotten all about Lee until the day he looked up after a performance and saw him in the balcony, hungrily watching his every move.

Gev and Lee are drawn together when Gev's roommate is killed, and they must face their fears and escape the stranglehold of the past to solve the mystery that keeps them apart...and make a long journey home.

You can read an excerpt at Loose Id.

All you have to do to enter is comment to this post. That's it. Next Monday at 9am PST, I'll choose a comment at random to win.

You don't need an account to leave a comment, but if you don't have one, please consider leaving an email address you can be contacted at. That guarantees I can get a hold of you in case you win.

Giveaway Winner

2011-10-24T08:53:00.000-07:00

A new week, a new winner! Last Monday, I had a giveaway for Elizabeth Lister's "The Crush."

And the winner is...Sarah Ballance!

I've got your email so expect a message from me very soon!

WIP Wednesday

2011-10-19T03:00:00.000-07:00

I've been chipping away at my current WIP, though my writing time slips away on the weekend. It's currently at 27k. I imagine that's not quite the halfway point, though I fear it's much longer than that.

I really should title it soon. :P

Accepting the marriage proposal has broader ramifications than Klea expected.

-----

As Jae launched into yet another diatribe about the puppet Bonsu, it dawned on Garen that if he kept on with the bargain, he would not be present for all the changes he professed to fear. He could be well on his way home by then. Four pearls would be ample payment for his freedom.

Four nights with Klea.

To prepare her for union with a man who would never appreciate the woman she was.

Disgusted, he rose from the bench, scooping up his full plate and cup. Cool tea sloshed over the rim, but he refrained from wiping off his hand until after he’d thrust them into a serving girl’s waiting hands. He didn’t linger to chat, much to her disappointed chagrin.

Jae fell into step beside him, their pace matching from years of service. Garen was thankful he didn’t pursue their conversation. His last desire was to debate a future he couldn’t predict. There were too many variables to account for, though he realized as they turned the corner toward the meeting room that they were not necessarily beyond his control. For the first time since that awful night he’d been captured, he could choose his own destiny. He could decide for himself when to rise, where to go, who to serve. He could be his own man.

Sire Kander beckoned them to approach his desk. Papers were strewn across its surface, and the blue-gray eyes he lifted to greet them were slightly bloodshot. He didn’t appear as if he’d slept at all. He even wore the same tunic he’d worn to the dinner the night before, though now its collar was open and noticeably less stiff.

“I’m reassigning the guard details for the unforeseen future.” He pushed a single piece of paper toward them. “The two of you are responsible for meting out the specific duties, but these are the men you may use. Only these men. No one else.”

Garen picked up the list and scanned it over. Most slave owners would never deign to put something in writing. Most slaves wouldn’t be able to read it. Jae couldn’t. But Zamar Kander behaved as none of the other owners Garen knew. As it was turning out, none of the Kander clan was behaving as they should.

The list itself was unremarkable. Only a handful of men--the best, Garen believed. The outlined duties at the bottom of the page, however, alarmed him.

“You wish to place constant guards on Mistress Klea?” Even Jae jerked at Garen’s query. “Why?”

Zamar glanced at the closed door. “Anything I say to you now is not to be repeated. Not even to your men.”

“Of course, Sire.” An automatic response, but Garen still worried why such an order was necessary.

“I received a visitor late last night in regards to the celebrations. Apparently, there are factions here in Dhivin who do not wish to see the Kander and Bonsu houses joined. Who will do anything it takes to stop such a union.”

Though Zamar did not mention her by name, Garen heard what he wasn’t saying. Klea was in danger. Opponents to the marriage would kill her if they thought it would gain the advantage. There was always an element of danger to the Kander household anyway, but generally speaking, Dhivin was a peaceful city. The Kanders, especially, were held in high regard. This response had to be a response to the Bonsu house.

“Perhaps it would be better for the Mistress to leave now and have the ceremony beyond Dhivin borders,” Jae said. “If the threat to her lies here, she would obviously be safer elsewhere.”

Garen held silent while he watched Zamar contemplate Jae’s suggestion. There was logic there. Before last night, he would have agreed without fail. After last night, he knew he should still agree without fail. Yet, his lips remained seal in wait.

“I have no doubt Sire Bonsu would prefer such an arrangement.” Zamar steepled his fingers and stared at the door beyond them. “But I do not know his men, and I would not trust something so precious to me without being more certain of their abilities. No, she must remain here until she is Bonsu’s wife. Sort through the list to your satisfaction.”

Though Garen nodded in acquiescence to the order, he couldn’t help but wonder why Zamar would wed his eldest daughter into a household he placed such little trust. If he feared Klea would come to harm under the Bonsu aegis, why allow the union to transpire in the first place? Some of the respect he’d garnered over the years for his owner faded with new understanding. Economics. The Bonsu-Kander bond would be a hard one to break, especially with Bonsu’s resources.

New release - Moon-Touched

2011-10-18T03:00:00.000-07:00

On Sunday, my contribution to Amber Allure's werewolf pax came out. This one was a labor of love, because I tried to normalize the paranormal aspect by focusing on the contemporary issues with the couple, rather than the werewolf aspects. The result really got to me.

Thomas Durling escaped his small-town upbringing for over ten years, until a single phone call draws him back. Told his mother has been diagnosed with early onset Alzheimer’s, Thomas returns to the small northern Michigan town he once called home to find a mute stranger named Andre taking care of her in his stead. On the surface, Andre seems harmless enough, but Thomas has enough problems trying to deal with his mother’s illness. He doesn’t need a gorgeous young man to distract him, especially in a town that already drove him away once with its homophobia.

But Andre Nezat has nowhere else to go. A wolf without a pack, he’s been on the run since witnessing his father’s murder, always looking over his shoulder, never looking ahead. Taking care of Thomas’s mother has given him a welcome sanctuary, as well as a place he can call home for a couple months. He wants to stay, but more importantly, he wants to help, even if Thomas isn’t ready to accept that they can actually be friends...

It's at new release prices this week, so head over to the publisher's page and take a look. There's an excerpt there to sample it, too.

Giveaway - The Crush by Elizabeth Lister

2011-10-17T07:17:00.000-07:00

I didn't get to go to New Orleans for GayRomLit this past weekend, so I'm going to make up for it by giving away a book from one of my m/m exclusive publishers, MLR.

Jack Claridge's sister, Amy, has a big crush on her English professor, Michael Donovan. When Jack agrees to accompany her on an outing with the object of her affection, the last thing he expects is the professor's reaction to him. One surreptitious hand-job later and Michael is hooked. But will Jack 'use him and lose him' or does Jack care for the professor more than he thinks? And what will he tell Amy?

You can read an excerpt at MLR.

All you have to do to enter is comment to this post. That's it. Next Monday at 9am PST, I'll choose a comment at random to win.

You don't need an account to leave a comment, but if you don't have one, please consider leaving an email address you can be contacted at. That guarantees I can get a hold of you in case you win.

Six Sentence Sunday

2011-10-16T03:00:00.000-07:00

Welcome to my SSS! For the month of October, I'm continuing with snippets from my Boys of the Zodiac novel, Libra: Outlined in Ink. You've met Jarrett and Eli. Now experience their first kiss. Or part of it anyway. ;)

Eli barely got his hand out of the way before Jarrett sealed their mouths together, muscles twitching like they’d been Tased, then leaping with newfound energy to fold around Jarrett’s upper body. The kiss was supposed to be functional, the kind given as the precursor to abandoning any sense of foreplay and going right for the cock. Jarrett had given enough of those in his lifetime, even if occasionally, he’d wanted more.

But from the instant their lips met, supposed to be flew out the window. Eli opened to him with a surprised little whimper that went straight to Jarrett’s cock, all need and delight and hunger rolled into one tight, bleached, electrified package. He drank down Jarrett’s kiss like he’d been parched for it, and though he held his own, twisting his tongue around Jarrett’s until Jarrett’s brain was ready to explode, he let Jarrett lead the whole way.

To check out all the other six sentence contributions, head over to the official website.

WIP Wednesday

2011-10-12T09:00:00.000-07:00

I'm continuing on with my het fantasy. Klea offered to pay Garen for his tutelage, enough to be able to buy his freedom. Garen, however, did not say yes. She waits for him the first night to see if he will accept her terms.

-----

The shadows coagulated into something more solid, and the outline of broad shoulders etched in the open window.

Her cheeks burned. Garen.

She was afraid to exhale in case she was dreaming, afraid to blink for the very same reason. She couldn’t see his face. He had yet to cross the threshold from terrace to room, and stood as part of the velvety darkness, but she knew his form better than she knew her own.

“Where is your handmaiden?”

His low voice rippled through her. “At the servants’ celebration.”

“Are you alone?”

“Yes.”Slowly, she released her stranglehold on her bed coverings and stood. “I wasn’t sure you would come.”

“Neither was I.”

“But you’re here now.”

When she took a tentative step forward, Garen finally moved. He held up a hand. “Stop.”

She obeyed without hesitation, though the violent thundering of her heart made it feel like she was still moving.

“I haven't fully decided the wisdom of this,” he said. “I’m not convinced you're aware of what you ask of me.”

Klea felt like laughing. “No, I’m fully aware.”

“Really? Your father trusts me with his life, trusts me with your life, and yet, you’d ask me to deceive him on a daily basis should I agree.”

“He won’t know.”

“I will.”

And there it was. That honor that drew her to him would be the wall she wouldn’t be able to surmount. “Why did you come then?” It perplexed her. He could have let the entire matter drop by simply ignoring her request. “If you don’t want to do this, don’t. I already told you. I don’t wish to compel you into anything you won’t enter freely.”

“Ah, but I never said I didn’t want this.” Though his face remained in shadows, he prowled closer, stepping over the threshold without ever disturbing the gauzy curtains. He wore the loose trousers of sleepwear, and the waistband rode low on his hips, low enough for the rough border of dark hair disappearing below the tie to be visible. “Do not put words into my mouth.”

They were the most commanding words she had ever heard from a servant, let alone a slave. She was so struck by the raw honesty, it took several moments to realize what exactly he had said.

He wanted her. Or at the very least, he wanted what she had to offer.

“So answer my question, then.” Emboldened by his admission, Klea lifted her chin and braved his response. “I cannot put words into your mouth if it is already filled with your own.”

The corner of his wide mouth twitched. “Would a woman who wishes to learn the ways of the flesh prefer to hear poetic lies that feed her ego, or truth that will likely prick it?”

As dismayed as she was by her options, there was only one way to answer. “The truth. Always. I cannot expect you to put your faith in me if you believe me to desire falsehoods.”

His chest rose. Fell. The muscle in his cheek smoothed, and the mask returned. “I couldn't sleep.”

Neither could she. “Why?”

“I think you know why. You offer the one thing I don't know how to refuse. Was it deliberate?”

“Yes.” The confession slashed at her hope. Now he would see her as manipulative, when in truth, all she wished was to guarantee an agreement. “Does this mean you’re going now?”

“No. But this is a dangerous game you play. You have no notion what kind of lover I might be…Klea.”

He uttered her name like a test, weighing it upon his tongue in deliberation as if to see how she would react. She was certain it wasn’t how he anticipated. Just the sound of his voice had been enough to make her nipples tighten, but now, hearing him address her as a woman and not as his Mistress, her body hummed to have more.

Giveaway Winner

2011-10-10T09:22:00.001-07:00

It's Monday, which means announcing who won last week's giveaway!

And the winner is...Carla Krae!

I've got your email so expect a message from me very soon!

Six Sentence Sunday

2011-10-09T03:00:00.000-07:00

Welcome to my SSS! For the month of October, I'm continuing with snippets from my Boys of the Zodiac novel, Libra: Outlined in Ink. Last week, you met Jarrett and Eli, reconnecting after not seeing each other for a few years. This week, Jarrett has given Eli refuge with the intention of helping him clear his name. A surprise visitor in the middle of the night doesn't believe Jarrett isn't holding back on what he knows.

This sounded like a car door slamming, but it was nothing compared to the way the blood sprayed out the other side of Baptiste’s neck, splattering across the beige wall and the frame of his Aagaard print.

Baptiste crumpled sideways. He landed like a broken doll at the edge of the glass end table.

Swallowing down the bile in his throat, Jarrett swung his gaze back up to Sandora. The gun was now aimed directly at Jarrett’s chest.

“How’s that memory of yours now?” Sandora asked.

To check out all the other six sentence contributions, head over to the official website.

WIP Wednesday

2011-10-05T06:00:00.000-07:00

People are going to start getting whiplash from all my different WIP excerpts. But after reviewing my outline for what I was working last week, I realized one of my major plot points relied on the heroine cheating. Not on the hero, but well, that's a hard sell in romance, regardless. So that story has been shelved, yet again, and I went to my WIP folder to see what else I might want to work on.

I chose a het fantasy piece that I've been chipping away at in bits and pieces. I originally wrote it as a short story and realized it needed to be longer. It's set in an alternate world, in a land of sand and raging storms. The heroine, Klea, is the eldest daughter in the canton's wealthiest, most influential family, and she has finally agreed to accept a marriage proposal. She doesn't love the man, but it's a strong union for the families economically. She's actually in love with her father's head guard, a man that was captured from a different land and sold into slavery. Before she gets married, she wants to experience passion and comes up with a scheme to finally get what she wants.

-----

When he strode toward her exit, Klea backed away, reluctant to lose sight of him but knowing she must for a few precious seconds. Her heart pounded, and her skin scorched, too tight around her soft curves. She had been planning this meeting for weeks. It needed to go perfectly, but the thought of actually speaking to Garen, of giving voice to the words she practiced every night before falling asleep, had her breathless with excitement.

He hummed under his breath as he stepped into the murky corridor. Klea swallowed as she listened to him approach, holding her ground even when her feet wished to run in the opposite direction. The rest of her had different ideas, and it was the tingle through her thighs, the flush along her neck, that kept her from fleeing.

Garen rounded the corner and took only a single step before noticing her presence. He immediately straightened, broad shoulders lifting, head bowing. “Mistress,” he murmured. Just the deep rumble of his voice was enough to make her blood run icy hot.

“Hello, Garen.” Somehow, Klea managed the greeting without sounding like an infatuated idiot. “May I have a word with you, please?”

Her request made him glance up through his lashes, his slim brows drawing together into a quick frown. “Is there something amiss?”

“No, no, nothing like that.” Hidden in the pocket of her dress, her fingers toyed with the soft sack she’d brought along, her bargaining power found form. In reality, its contents did nothing for her, but now, caressing the soft silk offered needed comfort. “How are you?”

A moment passed before he responded. “I am well, Mistress.” He weighed each word, his black eyes gleaming in confusion. She had never been so bold to inquire after his wellbeing before.

Now that she had his attention, Klea’s long-practiced speeches escaped her. It was hard not to stare at his beauty, the slight slant in his eyes, the wide mouth. With his shoulder-length hair pulled back at his nape, it sharpened the angles of his face so they appeared even more sculptured. The entire effect heightened the sense of danger he always exuded.

Garen cleared his throat. “Is there some service you require, Mistress?”

“Yes.” She latched gratefully onto his query and gestured toward the hall that led away from her father’s quarters. “Will you walk with me?”

She phrased it as a request, but Klea knew he wouldn’t refuse. Couldn’t. Garen fell into step beside her after only a cursory glance in the other direction, his arm solid and warm where it brushed against hers.

Klea took a steadying breath. “I have been meaning to speak with you for quite some time.”

“I hope I have not given you reason to doubt my service. I assure you--”

“Oh, no.” She was hasty to cut him off. The last thing she wanted was to remind him of the differences in their stations. “I simply wondered…have you ever considered purchasing your freedom?”

He visibly started, halting in his path. When she stopped and looked back at him, he regarded her with more than a little shock.

“Have you?” she prompted when he didn’t respond.

The hesitation warred in his eyes. “Has someone told you I’m unhappy, Mistress?”

“No, but I didn’t ask if you were unhappy.” Klea edged a step closer. “Your freedom, Garen. Do you ever consider what it would be like to have it?”

He was an exemplary servant. Even now, in the face of direct interrogation from a member of the Kander household, Garen struggled to provide the answer that any other would have offered without hesitation. It would likely be a lie, of course. Servants rarely uttered truths that might deem them rebellious. But Klea was counting on Garen to be different.

His powerful hands balled into fists at his side, but when she noticed, he thrust them behind his back. “Every day, Mistress Klea.” His nostrils flared. “And I would say so to anyone who insisted I tell them.”

Of course, he would. Only the most honorable men were entrusted to serve as family guards. Klea expected nothing less.

“I’m not here to condemn you.” Her hand tightened on the sack. “I’m interested in making a trade with you.”

Though he didn’t move, Garen tensed. “I own nothing of value.”

No, she wanted to tell him. You are someone of value.

Just because Borders is gone...

2011-10-04T06:00:00.000-07:00

While I'm a staunch supporter of ebooks, I'll admit that I do everything I can to help keep our local Barnes & Noble afloat. The fact of the matter is, I don't want to see bookstores die. It's not because of the print format. In this day and age, devoting our dwindling resources exclusively to this medium is wasteful and unreasonable.

No, it's because I think of bookstores as refuges. Places to escape. It's not just about buying books. It's about having a safe haven for readers to congregate, more so than what a library might provide. Economics have hit them hard, too.

When I walk into B&N, a sense of freedom washes over me. I know I'm pretty much surrounded by people who want to be there as much as I do. People who understand the value of books enough to buy them for their own. It doesn't matter that we might have different interests. When I take my husband with me, he invariably goes off to business and computers, while I head straight to romance and sci-fi. But that love of the written word bonds us together, just like sports or other hobbies might bond other couples.

I'm teaching my kids to see bookstores as something to be excited about. We go at least twice a month and stay for a couple hours. They get to browse, sit and read, maybe play (since my son is young enough still to do so), and we always take the time to sit and have a coffee/milk/pastry in the cafe. Buying them books is the one thing I never deny them.

They go to the library, too, but that hasn't diminished our trips to the store. If anything, it's made them better, because it's turning them into more discerning purchasers. Plus, the library has introduced both of them to series that we then went out and bought because they were keepers.

I sincerely hope they never lose the thrill of what it feels like to go to the bookstore. But the only way to make sure that happens is by supporting our local store as much as we can. The big box stores can't win. We can't let them.

Giveaway - Blue Moon by Mackenzie McKade

2011-10-03T06:00:00.000-07:00

I've been very fortunate to work with some wonderful publishers, and Samhain definitely ranks up there. This week's giveaway is a hot contemporary from one of their most popular authors.

Two years ago Samantha Dawson had everything she wanted—a close family, a promising career, and a man she loved. Until the fateful night before her oldest sister’s wedding, a night of celebration and too much alcohol that tore her world apart. Devastated, she fled Oregon for Phoenix.

Now she’s home for her little sister’s wedding, and just her luck, the best man is her ex-boyfriend. Worse, no one involved in that ugly night seems to want to let the past die an ugly death.

Kyle Ackland has no memory of the events that destroyed his life, but he’ll never forget the woman who set his body on fire. Sam’s emotional barriers are as solid as the Cascade Mountains, but he’s determined to chip them away one sensual kiss at a time.

Yet even if he succeeds, what’s left of their love could crumble under the weight of past sins…and present secrets.

Six Sentence Sunday

2011-10-02T03:00:00.000-07:00

Welcome to my SSS! For the month of October, I'm featuring snippets from my Boys of the Zodiac novel, Libra: Outlined in Ink. It's an action/suspense novel about Jarrett Kessel, a mayor's aide, who gets pulled in by the FBI to locate a young man in connection with a murder. The man is Eli Locke, the younger brother of Jarrett's best friend from college, and the reason the Feds think Jarrett can smoke him out is because Eli has created an online superhero comic based on Jarrett. This is Jarrett's first time seeing him since Eli graduated from high school.

Though he’d bleached his hair, the shade complemented his tawny skin. The eyes he fixed on Jarrett smiled as warmly as his mouth did, a honeyed brown that threatened to drown anyone who met them too long. He’d been a cute teenager, but time had chiseled him into a striking young man, the body that rose to greet Jarrett solidly built beneath the faded jeans and tan T-shirt.

“Wow,” Eli said as he approached. He had to look up a little to meet Jarrett’s gaze. “I had completely forgotten how much room you take up.”

To check out all the other six sentence contributions, head over to the official website.

WIP Wednesday

2011-09-28T07:29:00.000-07:00

I've settled on what to work on next. I have a 40s ex-hitman for the mob story that's been languishing in my WIP folder for years that I adore. The only problem was, it was always too long and I didn't feel like I could cut it. Like...way too long. Written before I really understood what the genre wanted.

But after looking through what I had, and considering my obligations over the next few weeks, I thought, "Why not? Let's give it a shot." So that's what I'm in the process of reworking.

It's not titled yet. I now hate the original title, so I'm going to wait until I've finished my revisions and see if something new jumps out at me. Or if something jumps out while I'm working.

This is from the first chapter...

* * *

Sometimes, really bad days can start with birds singing outside the window.

At first, Deacon Rook thought it was the neighbor’s radio and just buried himself under his pillow, burrowing his cheek against the cool cotton of his sheets in an attempt to drown out the noise.

It took five minutes to remember the idiot neighbor was on vacation.

With a groan, he lifted his head, black curls matted in obscure patterns from sleep, and squinted against the California sunshine that streamed in through his open window. The birds perched in their nest on the top of the telephone pole not six feet away. He scowled.

One of these days, he'd remember to close that fucking window before he went to sleep.

Thinking of it as falling asleep was generous, but at that exact moment in time, the last thing he needed was to consider the greater ramifications of what his passing out for the third night in a row might mean. Better to focus on the pounding behind his eyeballs, or the sandpaper that currently comprised his throat lining, or even the fact that he’d slept in his last pair of clean trousers so now looked like something that had been lost at the bottom of a linen basket for the past century. It didn’t help, of course, that the incessant chirping from outside was sharpening into long, pointed needles, pricking his brain into shock with each shrill note, scraping down his spine until it felt like each vertebrae was raw from the tonality.

The gun from the nightstand was in his hand before he could think, its single shot rupturing the morning calm to shatter the upper pane of the window. As he’d intended, the bullet went low, missing the nest to imbed itself in the telephone pole, but the birds reacted exactly as he’d hoped, flying away in a dither that quickly left the room in silence.

Deacon collapsed back onto the mattress, the gun dangling from his hand over the side of the bed. The noise wouldn't be reported. Another advantage to already living in a high-crime neighborhood.

The harsh jangle of the phone was almost as bad as the damn birds. He shot up, dropping the gun to grab the receiver before a second ring melted his brain. “What?” he barked.

“Rise and shine, sleepyhead!”

It was unnatural for anyone to be that chirpy at this hour of the morning, but the gaiety in his partner Ruby’s voice was enough to smooth the roughest edges of his temper. “How do you know I wasn’t already up? I could’ve been entertaining, or in the shower, or doing naughty, naughty things that would make you blush brighter than your name, Red.”

She laughed. “I was the lucky one stuck on the stinky end of your feet when you passed out last night. Seeing as how you'd sleep through the entire day given half a chance, odds were pretty good that you’d still be in bed at ten a.m.” There was the slightest of hesitations, and he heard the faint doubt creep into her voice. “You…weren’t doing anything bad, right?”

He sighed, rubbing his hand over his face as if that would slough the exhaustion from his brain. “Just using my little chickadee for target practice again.”

“How many times have I told you to leave those poor birds alone? They’re defenseless little creatures, and I think the female is going to be laying eggs soon---.”

“Relax. They’ll live to sing another day. But don’t be surprised if Ma Bell comes a-knocking, demanding I replace that bloody pole.”

“Oh. Well. That’s all right then.”

“There a reason for this little wake-up call? Or do you just take extreme pleasure in making sure I’m as miserable as possible by waking me out of my stupor?”

“We’ve got a new job. I wanted to give you the heads up so that you’re presentable when Henry and I show up on your doorstep. The last time you were that smoked and we came by, you almost blew Henry’s head off.”

She was probably right, but he'd have to take her word for it. The specifics of that particular incident escaped him at the moment. “And this couldn’t wait until tonight?”

“It’s kind of an important one---.”

“They’re all important to the one doing the hiring, pet. Aren’t you the one who keeps nattering on about the client, and the client’s rights, and keeping the client happy? No reason this one can’t wait until I pull myself together---.”

“Deacon, they’re willing to pay us fifty large if we drop everything else we’re doing to take this. Half now. Half when the job is over.”

He’d been leaning over, scanning the floor for the cigarettes he had a funny feeling he’d knocked off the nightstand when he’d gone for his gun, but as soon as she mentioned the money, he froze. Fifty thousand dollars. That was a lot of dosh. He hadn’t seen money like that since he’d gotten out of the game, and there was no way Red had ever seen it. Henry probably had, but not since they’d hooked up, so it would certainly explain their eagerness to get started on it as soon as possible.

Slowly, Deacon straightened, and did his best to keep his voice as even as possible. “Gimme time to get slicked up. I’m feeling like something the cat coughed up. Be here in an hour?”

“With bells on.”

As he set the phone back onto its cradle, his eyes were pensive as he stared at the peeling wallpaper opposite him. Twenty-five now. Twenty-five later. That would clear a lot of debts. Hell, that would clear all his debts, as well as settle him up with Red and Henry. They deserved more than what they got by working with him, but bugger if he knew why they stuck around like they did. He didn’t want to argue with it, though. The three of them made a good team, and he wasn’t about to muck up the best professional arrangement he’d ever had by letting a bout of self-loathing take control. Wasn’t worth the trouble it would cause.

Fifty thousand dollars.

A man could do a lot of damage with that kind of money.

Giveaway Winner

2011-09-26T09:14:00.001-07:00

Monday means winning a free book!

And the winner of Under a Rock by India Harper is...Booklover62!

I've got your email so expect a message from me very soon!

Six Sentence Sunday

2011-09-25T03:00:00.000-07:00

Welcome to my SSS! Finishing out the month of September with a snippet from the last Wranglers book, Judgment. In this one, Sam and Derek have been dating for a number of months, but Sam's parents don't even know he's gay. Until they surprise him with a visit. The following snippet comes from a conversation between Derek and Sam's father.

"...I’m just saying, this is all new to me. I don’t know how it works. Like, which one of you is the girl?”

Derek stared at him, not really surprised the man had actually had the balls to ask that question. “Neither one of us. Otherwise, then we’d be straight, and you and I wouldn’t be having this extremely awkward conversation.”

To check out all the other six sentence contributions, head over to the official website.

WIP Wednesday

2011-09-21T03:00:00.000-07:00

I've finished edits and kind of in between projects while I try and figure out what I want to do next. The smart thing would be to tackle one of the many WIPs on my computer, right, lol? If only I was that smart...

Actually, this is one of the few that I'm considering. It's an m/m historical set at the end of WWII called "I Will Sing You Morning." It's one of those that I love but then remember all the research that's involved and wonder if I have time to tackle the way it should be.

This is the very beginning:

*****

Until the man screamed, Josiah Ladley thought the nurses had put a corpse in the bed next to him. It wouldn’t have been the first time. Though the bigwigs were constantly ordering new construction, more wounded came pouring into Fort McHenry from the Western Front every day. Beds were at a premium. Sometimes, there just wasn’t anyplace else to put a body.

This one wasn’t dead, though. In the wee hours of the morning, when the ward held its breath in anticipation of dawn, a choked cry erupted into shouts, loud enough, clear enough, pained enough to yank Josiah from sleep.

He bolted from the bed, immediately alert as the trenches had taught him, and knelt in the darkness, groping blindly for the writhing man. His hands skidded over the shirt glued by perspiration to the man’s chest, the fabric cool, the body hot. Not blood, he reminded himself. Night sweats. Big difference.

“Hey. Buddy.” He finally found his shoulders and shook him carefully. He had no idea where his injuries were, and he didn’t need the nurses scolding him for trying to help. “Wake up.”

Eyelids shot open. Josiah couldn’t see him clearly, but what little light filtered through the small, high windows made his eyes glow as his body went rigid.

“What…where…”

The questions were just puffs of air, barely formed and quickly called back. A hand emerged from beneath the blanket and clamped over Josiah’s wrist. The strength in the grip was enough to loosen his hold, and he sat back onto his heels as the man slowly turned his head to look at him.

“You were dreaming.” Just because he’d been screaming wasn’t reason to think he might actually remember what it was about. It might be better all around if he didn’t, actually. Josiah had a few of those he’d be more than glad to see the back of. “You need me to call a nurse or something?”

The man didn’t let go. His fingers wore calluses like armor. His gaze remained unblinking, and Josiah would have added unseeing if it wasn’t fixed purposefully on him. Whatever had been wounded, it hadn’t been his arm or sight. But there were a legion more places on a man’s body to bear the aegis of war.

“No,” came the quiet answer. “Don’t get no one.”

The accent was broad and flat, but Josiah had talked to enough soldiers overseas to know it came from someplace in the Midwest. He’d bet this one was a farm boy, gone off to defend the beliefs his country stood for, against Krauts and others he’d never heard of before the Great War. For some reason, though he’d known a lot of greenhorns, he regretted this one suffered from nightmares awful enough to make him scream. Even if they all screamed.

“You can let me go anytime,” he joked, jiggling his arm a little. He waited until the broad fingers uncurled then fell limply back to the bed, before sticking out his hand. “I’m Josiah.”

“Bill.”

Though Bill hadn’t returned his greeting, it was good enough to know his name. “You sure you don’t need me to get you anything? It’s not a bother. Maybe a glass of water or something.”

“No, no.” These denials were firmer. “I just want to go back to sleep.”

“The nurses can give you—”

“The nurses can’t do nothing for me. Neither can you. Leave me alone.”

The last thing Josiah wanted to do was to leave Bill alone so he could return to the nightmares that would wake up the whole ward next time. He didn’t really have much choice, though. A man who didn’t want help would fight it every step of the way. Josiah was too tired to be the one to try and fight back.

He stood and nodded, though Bill wouldn’t be able to see it in the dark. “You need anything, I’m right here.” His leg hit the cold bedframe as he edged back. “Have a good night, Bill.”

Slipping back beneath his blankets, he couldn’t even hear the other man’s breathing. Maybe he was a dead man, after all.

With night sweats.

Prop 8 videos to be public

2011-09-20T00:33:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, U.S. district chief judge James Ware rules that videos taken during the Prop 8 trial could be made public, though he did put a time stamp on it of September 30 to allow appeals to be made. While I'm glad that the truth is one step closer to coming out to the general public, I have to admit I'm disillusioned with how this entire debacle has come about in the first place.

I was one of the voters who stayed up until the wee hours of the morning tracking results when Prop 8 was first on the ballot. As a general rule, I don't get involved in politics, and I definitely don't bother debating or discussing most issues as most of the time, it's a complete waste of time. However, the blatant misinformation that Prop 8 supporters kept throwing around infuriated me. I had to listen to radio spots that outright lied about what the proposition was set to do, and I drove home more than once through supporters standing on street corners, proclaiming how without the proposition, schools would be forced to teach about homosexuality.

A load of rubbish, of course. Just like so many of the other ridiculous claims supporters made about why the gay marriage laws had to be removed from California legislation.

Supporters don't want the tapes publicized. They don't want people to see their own expert witness testify that gay marriage does nothing to infringe upon straight marriage. They don't want anybody to know just how weak their claims actually were, that their assertions were based on fear and religion rather than logic or facts. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that any appeal made fails, because this entire farce has gone on too long.

Partnerships are based on love, not gender. Relationships that withstand the test of time deserve to be recognized. Nobody has the right to tell two people who are ready to commit their lives to each other that it's wrong or that they don't deserve to have the same legal rights as another couple that happens to fit an outdated, narrow-minded definition of what a marriage should be.

With so much awfulness in the world already, why would anyone want to make it even more miserable by hurting people who only want to have their love be recognized as valid and lawful?

Giveaway - Under a Rock by India Harper

2011-09-19T10:26:00.000-07:00

Half the reason I decided to try publishing in the first place is because of my very good friend, Philippa Grey-Gerou. Now, she writes a lot of stories collaboratively with Emery Sanborne, and one of their new releases just came out yesterday. So I'm excited about giving away a copy of it for this week's giveaway.

When his father crossed a powerful Mexican drug cartel, Keith Lewis lost everything—his identity, his way of life, and the freedom to live in the open. With a new name, Keith is now in witness protection, and his handler has brought him to the last place on Earth anyone would ever look for him: a cattle ranch in Montana. What Keith didn’t expect to find there was a handsome, tempting former Navy SEAL.

Tanner Bruenig retired to the Montana countryside to try his hand at ranching and savor the peace of hard work and few neighbors. When you’re former military and your cousin’s in the Marshals Service, however, it’s easy enough to get roped into providing a safe haven once in a while. Keith isn’t the first witness to shelter in Tanner’s house or to join him in his bed. But he may be the first one Tanner wants to keep there...

Six Sentence Sunday

2011-09-18T03:00:00.000-07:00

I've had an insane week, but at least I got my SSS up! Continuing with my Wranglers series, the third novella, The Defense Rests, finds Derek and Sam assigned to the same side of a case for the very first time, a move that creates more than a little friction between them.

“Fuck it up, and it’s going to make Rudy think twice the next time something comes along the pipeline. Don’t tell me I’m wrong.”

Derek looked even unhappier than he’d seemed at the office. “I didn’t ask for you to help me.”

“No, I did that all on my lonesome. Because in spite of what my mouth ran off with before, you’re important to me, whether you want to be or not.”

To check out all the other six sentence contributions, head over to the official website.

Giveaway Winner

2011-09-12T08:59:00.000-07:00

It's Monday, which means it's time for me to announce a winner for last week's giveaway!

Well, even though it's got a gorgeous cover and sounds amazing, I only got two entries. So I've decided to give a copy to both people who entered.

Congratulations, John and Cate!

Expect an email from me very soon. :)

Six Sentence Sunday

2011-09-11T03:00:00.000-07:00

Hello, everyone! For the month of September, I'm featuring snippets from my gay lawyer series, Wranglers. Last week, you met Derek and Sam in the first story, Discovery. This week in Voir Dire, they've been sort-of dating for a while.

“That’s mine,” he said, then started when he realized he said it out loud. His eyes shot open to lock with Derek’s. The sheer lust in them proved his undoing, his balls tightening, his cock pulsing as he shot over his stomach.

In a flash, Derek was off the chair, across the room, climbing onto the bed to cover Sam’s hand with his own. Before Sam’s orgasm had even begun to subside, their mouths fused together in a tangle of tongues and teeth, and Derek sucked away his breath as they both stroked Sam’s cock. Sam vibrated from head to toe, his fingers sticky, his shaft stickier, but none of it was nearly as good as the taste of Derek’s lips, the expert way he pulled Sam in and made him forget the world even existed outside the heat of their bodies.

To check out all the other six sentence contributions, head over to the official website.

New cover art

2011-09-10T08:38:00.001-07:00

I got my cover art this week for my October m/m werewolf story. It's moody. I like. :)

Thomas Durling escaped his small-town upbringing for over ten years, until a single phone call drew him back. Told his mother has been diagnosed with early onset Alzheimer’s, he returns to the small northern Michigan town he once called home to find a mute stranger taking care of her in his stead. On the surface, Andre seems harmless enough, but Thomas has enough problems trying to deal with his mother’s illness. He doesn’t need a gorgeous young man to distract him, especially in a town that drove him away once already with its homophobia.

But Andre has nowhere else to go. A wolf without a pack, he’s been on the run since witnessing his father’s murder, always looking over his shoulder, never looking ahead. Taking care of Thomas’s mother has given him a welcome sanctuary, as well as a place he can call home for a couple months. He wants to stay, but more importantly, he wants to help, even if Thomas isn’t ready to accept that they could actually be friends…

I'll keep you updated on this as the release date approaches.

Fall television

2011-09-09T07:30:00.000-07:00

The first of my shows premiered this week - Sons of Anarchy, FTW! - which made me finally sit down with my Entertainment Weekly and figure out what I have to program into the DVR. I always feel like such a couch potato after I do this, lol.

Monday - Terra Nova (for the kids), House
Tuesday - Glee, Last Man Standing (for the hubby), New Girl, Ringer, Sons of Anarchy
Wednesday - Up All Night, Modern Family, X-Factor, CSI
Thursday - Bones
Friday - Fringe, CSI NY

I know some of those won't last. I'm only trying Ringer because I was a Buffy fan, and I don't have high hopes for a couple of the sitcoms. But I won't know until I try, right?

I do have a couple pouty faces regarding some missed opportunities, though.

For instance, I adore David Krumholtz to death, but why did he have to be on The Playboy Club?

As much as I love James Spader, I've never been able to enjoy The Office. I loved the UK version too much when it aired, and couldn't stop comparing it when it first started. Subsequent attempts to watch and enjoy have failed just as spectacularly.

Homeland should be on that list, because hello Damian Lewis and Mandy Patinkin! However, we don't get Showtime and in all honesty, I find it soooooooooo difficult to watch or read anything related to Afghanistan.

Of everything that's coming, I'm actually most excited about returning series. Bones and the baby? Sons of Anarchy and Jax's dream of getting out of the club? The fallout from Fringe's finale last year?

What's got you excited?

WIP Wednesday

2011-09-07T07:50:00.000-07:00

I'm in the middle of finishing my Christmas short for MLR, but since it's so short, I'd rather not pull anything from it. Instead, I'm going to post from All the Devils Here again, the sequel to Two Lives in Waltz Time. This is the first time Quin meets Colette, though they're both dreaming so neither realizes it's actually happening.

* * *

Sunlight dappled the sidewalk through the trees, scattering onto the grass to merge with the shadows. A flock of birds suddenly took off, their wings battering the air, but they were the only living things Quin could see, no matter which direction he turned. That wasn’t right, not for Central Park in the middle of the afternoon. The theater where they did the Shakespeare was around the bend, he realized, and he jogged the few feet necessary to reach the back entrance.

Empty seats, just like the rest of the park. But there, at center stage, sat the sultry young woman who’d been in his room with Maddy.

She sat with her legs stretched out in front of her, her head and torso angled back as she leaned on her hands. The sun turned her hair to golden honey, the curly ends trailing almost to the stage. She was oblivious to Quin’s approach, lost in her own world it would seem, but that simply meant he had freedom to watch her without either of them being self-conscious.

Her accent didn’t do her any favors, though neither did the nose stud. She looked like she should be running wild on the Highlands centuries earlier, with the wind whipping a long skirt around her legs and curvy hips, somehow out of time in an entirely different way than most of the women he’d grown up knowing. Not a shrinking violet, though, not with the flash of intelligence he’d seen in her brown eyes. This one would stand up for what she wanted, what she believed in, with her hands firmly on her hips, and her gaze locked with her opponent’s.

He realized he was semi-erect by the time he reached the edge of the stage.

“Hello,” he said, and knew immediately it was a dream. He’d spoken aloud. He hadn’t done that since Dubai.

She turned her head and immediately smiled. Like she’d been expecting him. “Yep. I knew it. The accent is to die for.”

“You mean you don’t know me?” That was a shame. He would have preferred some measure of familiarity in his own dream. Of course, considering how long it had been since he’d found any woman physically attractive enough to dream about, perhaps he should just be grateful she was there at all.

She rose and wiped her palms on the back of her black jeans, drawing his attention yet again to the swell of her hips. “Well, we haven’t been formally introduced.” She thrust her hand out to him, advancing a few steps closer. “Colette Weir. And you’re Quin, right?”

Though her grip was firm, his hand almost entirely engulfed hers, making him long for a moment to find out what else he could cover completely on her soft body. He let her go, but she caught his wrist and turned his palm upward, tracing over its hard calluses.

His pulse leapt. Such a simple contact shouldn’t have turned him on so much, but the contrast of the delicacy of her touch with the surety of each stroke was a tantalizing combination. “What were you doing in my hospital room?” he asked.

“I found you.”

“But why did you stick around?”

She looked up then, finally dropping his hand to stick hers in her back pockets. “Because you didn’t have anybody else.”

The innocent observation choked off the response he would have made. He turned out toward the empty seats, imagining what they would look like filled with a hungry audience, all eyes eagerly glued to the stage as the actors played out the story. His gaze drifted toward the section Cash had been in. Did he understand the irony of the play he’d chosen for their date? Probably not. But then, he didn’t seem to understand why Quin was there in the first place.

“Here.” Her small hand curled back around his, tugging him downward. He had little choice but to sit as she had been, with her legs stretched out beside him. “This is the best view in the house.”

Glancing at her perky profile, Quin wasn’t so sure about that. But in that moment, in this dream, he wouldn’t correct her. He wouldn’t tell her how grateful he was for her company, or how he liked the way her hair gleamed in the warm sunshine. He would take the comfort she offered and hold it close.

For all his mistakes, he refused to let his life signify nothing. And if he could find strength in a dream version of what was likely his guardian angel, then so be it.

Labor Day Blog Hop winner

2011-09-06T08:19:00.000-07:00

First of all, thank you to everyone for making this blog hop so much fun! I got some great ideas for our next BBQ, and more than a few new recipes to try. Makes me glad I'm in California so we'll be grilling for a couple more months yet. :)

As a thank you for visiting, I'm awarding a free e-book to two of the commenters from my Labor Day post.

And the randomly selected winners are...Jacki C. and wendydbooks!

Wendy, I have your email so I'll be contacting you shortly.

Jacki, if you could email me at vivien_dean at yahoo.com, we'll get your prize sorted out!

Thanks again to everyone who commented!

Giveaway - Iron Dominance by Cari Silverwood

2011-09-05T08:34:00.000-07:00

One of the genres that fascinates me is steampunk, so picking the book for this week's giveaway was a breeze. A long steampunk erotic romance with BDSM elements? Yes, please! Plus, the cover is gorgeous.

Raised from childhood as an assassin, Claire finds her world knocked off kilter when Theo Kevonis, a rich, ex-Air Corp nobleman, rescues her from an airship crash. Being a soldier of a hostile nation she cannot reveal her identity, but Theo sinks his steely Dom fingers into her heart and soul, showing her the pleasures to be found in surrendering to his touch. Captivated, Claire cannot help but bind herself in lie after lie rather than risk losing the one man who’s ever loved her.

When her loathsome commander returns from the dead, her deceit is uncovered. Somehow, Claire must find a way to win back Theo's trust and destroy the man who threatens them both.

Publisher's Note: This book contains explicit sexual content, graphic language, and situations that some readers may find objectionable: anal play/intercourse, BDSM theme and elements, violence.

Six Sentence Sunday

2011-09-04T03:00:00.000-07:00

Hello, everyone! For the month of September, I'm going to feature snippets from my gay lawyer series, Wranglers. Four stories, four Sundays...yeah, that works out well. :)

The first is called Discovery.

As soon as he realized he was responding to the kiss, Derek grabbed Sam’s shoulders and shoved him away. His lips felt blistered, and he could still taste Sam even after he dragged the back of his hand across his mouth.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he snarled.

The thumb Sam drew across the corner of his lips, wiping away a slight line of spit, shook. Derek was too attuned to everything about the other man to miss it, though.

“Down in Texas, we call it cutting past the crap...”

To check out all the other six sentence contributions, head over to the official website.

Labor Day Blog Hop

2011-09-03T01:00:00.000-07:00

Welcome! It's Labor Day Weekend here in the US, which has come to mean one last long weekend to blow out the summer in style. For my family, that's beach time, boat time, and BBQ time.

Except I'm a fair-skinned Scandinavian who turns beet red in the sun in five minutes flat and prefers mountains to water. So my husband and kids get the boat and beach time, while I get blessed alone time.

The BBQ, however, that's very much my domain. The husband might take care of the actual grill, but I go nuts on what we're having and getting it ready. Our favorite ribs are these Hawaiian style ribs, the moistest, most delicious ribs I've ever had. They're pretty much the only ribs I'll eat anymore, because I'm so incredibly picky.

Today, I'm sharing one of my family's go-to BBQ recipes. My husband isn't a big fan of creamy stuff, so that pretty much rules out most potato salads the rest of us will eat, and I'm not a huge fan of macaroni salads. Other pastas, however...yum. This tortellini salad is versatile and so packed with flavor. Even my picky nine-year-old gobbles this down, complete with olives and spinach I can't get him to touch in other dishes.

Tortellini Salad

INGREDIENTS
1 9-oz package cheese tortellini
1 10-oz package fresh baby spinach
1/2 cup grated Parmesan
2 cups cherry tomatoes, halved
1 cup sliced black olives
1 cup chopped salami
2 tbsp ranch vinaigrette (or Italian dressing)

DIRECTIONS
1. Cook pasta until al dente. Rinse under cold water and drain.
2. In a large bowl, combine all the ingredients except for the vinaigrette.
3. Once thoroughly mixed, add dressing to coat.

NOTES: Serves 4. You don't have to worry about the spinach. The oil from the vinaigrette wilts it just enough.

If couscous is more your style, try this Mexican-inspired Black Bean and Couscous Salad. It's just as amazing.

So what are your favorite BBQ dishes? Leave a comment on this post and get a chance to win an e-book from my backlist. On Tuesday morning, I'm going to pick two winners. Plus, I've added a print copy of my Samhain time travel,Two Lives in Waltz Time, into the grand prize basket. Thanks for stopping by and enjoy the rest of the tour!

Project Runway

2011-09-02T08:18:00.000-07:00

I haven't laughed so much at an episode of Project Runway in a long time. Seriously. And probably not in a good way, because the challenge was executed so atrociously, the judging eye-roll-worthy, and the winner outrageous.

I loved the idea of the challenge, but I'm not surprised it fell flat. First of all, how condescending was Victor about having to work with a kid? Or Bert saying he liked his partner because he didn't talk? Though I laughed so hard at Laura's being so much more level-headed than her. It's sad commentary when the kids are the mature ones in the challenge.

I also don't understand why any of the designers thought it was a good thing when a teenager (or tween in some cases) said they'd go into a store and buy the dress right now. Um, did you miss the memo where it was supposed to be avant garde? Ready to wear is not what you're shooting for here.

None of the ones I liked were in the top/bottom six. In fact, I think Anya's was the best by far:

It was pretty, visually interesting, and doesn't look off the rack. The difference between this and Anthony's was execution and daringness. Anthony's might have been a pretty gown if he'd been able to make it not look like a craft table exploded in a static shower, but I just don't think it's avant garde. And the others...meh.

I'm not really looking forward to next week's. Another team challenge? Really? The show is milking the friction between everybody, which is really annoying. I just want to see pretty clothes, damn it!

WIP Wednesday

2011-08-31T08:19:00.000-07:00

Since Moon-Touched has gone on to the editing phase, I'm choosing another WIP to showcase today. A while back, I started a sequel to Two Lives in Waltz Time, my paranormal time travel release from Samhain. It's called All The Devils Here, and continues Cash and Maddy's story as well as introduces another couple, Quin and Colette. This is from Quin's introduction into the story...

*****

He stared at a ghost.

Ghosts appeared out of nowhere, echoes of the people they used to be. They created havoc not through what they did, but through their mere existence, shocking those who witnessed them and inevitably frightening them away. Whether they held malice or not mattered little. The end result was always the same.

Even with a blade inches from his carotid, Cash refused to yield to fear. Because Quin Brenner would always be his friend, no matter how many years separated them.

“You’re still the master of shrouds,” he said, with a smile he had to force. “I never knew you were there.”

Quin glanced at Maddy. “She did.”

Hearing Quin’s voice without seeing his lips move sent an array of goose bumps down Cash’s spine. That was actually harder than seeing the scarring mutilating his old friend’s face.

“I didn’t know.” The fact that Maddy piped up to answer Quin’s allegation meant she heard him, too. Cash tucked away the little tidbit for dissecting later. “Not that it was you, anyway. Or anyone.” Her wide blue eyes tilted up to meet Cash’s, silently imploring him for clarification.

“Guess my girl’s got more gifts than I realized.” Cash curled a protective arm around her waist, but when he attempted to retreat a step, Quin matched the movement with his own slide forward. The sword never bobbled. “Now is that any way to greet an old friend?”

“You’re supposed to be dead.”

“I think we were both supposed to be dead, mate. Put the blade down so we can talk.”

Quin made a soft snorting sound under his breath. “Is that supposed to be funny?”

“It wasn’t?” Cash pretended to pout. “I must be losing my touch.”

“Cash…” Maddy’s gaze had returned to Quin, and while she held herself stiffly, she gave no other indications of alarm. “Why don’t you introduce us?”

“Don’t. Let the girl go.”

The mere fact that Quin didn’t want Maddy included in this was enough to convince Cash to keep her around, at least until he knew more about what was going on. “Bit rude, isn’t that? Especially since you’ve made such a sparkling entrance. That deserves names, at the very least.” He swept a free arm between them. “Maddy Cardinale, Quin Brenner. Quin’s part of the old gang, the one I told you about, remember?”

He didn’t want to clarify any further, not with death written across Quin’s features. He just hoped Maddy would understand the reference.

Her sharp inhalation said she did.

“So now that introductions are out of the way,” he went on, “let’s say we do something about the sword. Can’t very well buy you a pint and catch up on old times if you’ve got me shished and kebabed.”

“I’m not here for fun and games. Let the girl go, and I promise you, she won’t get hurt.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Maddy said before Cash could chime in. Infuriatingly, she stepped more in front of him, placing herself in direct line with the deadly blade. When they got home, he was going to have a serious talk to her about her predilection for getting in the way. She’d already taken a bullet that was meant for him. Once should have been more than enough.

“So be it.”

Sparks danced from the tip of Quin’s sword. Cash barely threw his arm up in time to shield her from the magic leaping across the distance.

Do you want to live forever?

2011-08-30T07:39:00.000-07:00

An article appeared in the Wall Street Journal over the weekend, discussing the possibilities of extending human life expectancy. While the discussion is hardly a new topic, the growing population certainly makes it an interesting one. There are social and economic realities we live in that weren't applicable a hundred years ago. Our world is a shrinking one. Is it really worth it to continue this type of research?

I write about paranormal creatures with extended lives all the time, but the reality is a much different story. We have problems with overcrowdedness and lack of resources already. Can you imagine the strain the world would take if the population didn't have a natural break to it? Of course, if extending lives meant those people would then be able to produce more that would be of benefit to the world at large, I wouldn't hesitate in the slightest. But how likely is that to happen? I just don't know. I'd like to believe in altruism, but the cynic in me calls that part foolish.

And what about relationships? Divorce is a defining reality for a lot of people. Would we be forced to reimagine our concept of marriage? If someone spends over a hundred years as an adult, is it realistic to think they'd do so with a single person?

The romantic in me would like to say yes, but I know that it wouldn't necessarily work out that way. Relationships take work, especially over longer periods of time.

What are your thoughts?

Giveaway Winner

2011-08-29T09:00:00.000-07:00

Another Monday which means new inspiration. With the end of summer fast approaching, I'm appreciating the wonder of beaches. Well, the wonder of pretty men on beaches.

It also means it's time to announce the winner of "Dark Edge of Honor." Drumroll...

Dropbear!

I have your email, so expect an email from me soon. :)

Six Sentence Sunday

2011-08-28T03:00:00.000-07:00

Welcome! Thanks for stopping by today. For the month of August, I'm highlighting segments from my het werewolf erotic romance Under a Rogue Moon. This comes towards the end, as Flanna comes face to face with the man who's been hunting her.

The gun now nuzzled the back of Jason’s skull. “Go ahead, bitch,” Romm said. “Keep on talking. Your boyfriend did so much of that already that I’m this close to saying to hell with it and killing both of you right now.”

She pressed her lips together. She didn’t know what had happened to put Jason in the submissive position, but she wasn’t willing to stand there while Romm scattered his brains across the pavement.

To check out all the other six sentence contributions, head over to the official website.

Project Runway

2011-08-26T08:14:00.000-07:00

Remember how much I said I loved Bert a few weeks ago?

Yeah, not so much anymore.

I loved his outfit last night, don't get me wrong. But his attitude and constant negativity is really annoying me. He reminds me of Emilio from a couple seasons ago - talented but with such an ego and a chip on his shoulder that it's hard to like or root for him.

And Josh! Okay, I get that the judges liked that he compartmentalized his team, but if they hadn't, Becky would've been totally screwed. Plus, they gave him the win when that maxi dress was really Anya's?!? What kind of sense does that make?

Victor completely deserved his win, on the other hand. That jacket he made was fabulous, and even though I thought their collection was a little dull palette-wise, it was definitely the strongest and most cohesive of the four. Funny, how my top favorites all came from different collections.

And yes, Bert's was one of them, I'm sad to say. He can make really pretty clothes, but that attitude needs to change. Stat.

WIP Wednesday

2011-08-24T03:00:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I think I will never be done with this story. My family hasn't had the greatest week and my writing time has been severely curtailed. I have a ton of editing to do on this before I submit it, so I'm not even sure what's going to end up surviving, lol. Oh well, let's find something to share anyway.

*****

Mention of Amy drove Andre’s eyes to the house, giving Thomas valuable seconds to study him without fear of being caught. He’d worn his hair loose today, and the sunlight filtered through the ends, gilding his skin more golden than usual. His strong profile should’ve been captured on Roman coins, or something else equally magnificent. The more Thomas saw of him, the more convinced he became he belonged elsewhere, not in some backwater town that couldn’t see what it had. Even with the scars, he’d bet Andre could model. He was hotter than anybody Thomas saw gracing his magazines.

When Andre came back to him, a definite sadness pervaded the pale depths of his eyes. The hand that had been branding Thomas’s stomach lifted, and a shadow fell across his face when the same fingertips that had caressed his abdomen now fluttered over his brow.

Thomas closed his eyes automatically. A smart man would push the contact away. He knew what Andre was doing, this soothing of his torturous thoughts, and would have laughed at ever submitting to such vulnerability. He was stronger than that. He didn’t need another man’s gentleness.

At the same time, nothing had ever felt so good. The firm press of their bodies that morning had been exhilarating, the taste of Andre’s skin delightful, but this surpassed all of that. This opened a door in the back of his heart he’d locked the last time he’d been left alone. He’d vowed he didn’t need anyone else again, and he’d stuck to that promise for over a year now. Until the call from Pastor, he’d been content with the solitude he’d embraced.

Now he’d met a man even more lonely than him. Someone bearing the physical scars of fighting for what he loved. Someone who continued to walk along the fringe of the very thing that had nearly destroyed him and did so willingly, because he preferred it to the alternative. Andre’s strength in the face of that overwhelming force put Thomas’s to shame. After all, what kind of strength came in running from life?

A sigh escaped his lips. The strokes along his forehead went down the side of his face, tickling at the edge of his beard, to feather over his mouth. Just as gentle. Just as giving. His tongue darted out, and there was the salty skin he remembered, the heat more so because it had been warmed by the afternoon sun. He licked at the callused pad, picturing the long, slender fingers dancing across his body as he tasted it.

Hands like that were sinful. The things they could do. Pulling him apart. Putting him back together. Delving deep and deep and deep until the line of separation between them disappeared. Thomas topped more than he bottomed, but for this man, he’d crawl on his hands and knees to be taken and consumed. Something told him Andre would make it worth it.

Storylines revisited

2011-08-23T07:14:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, a story from NPR showed up in my Google Reader about a Shakespeare production that has been re-invented to reflect modern issues, and it got me thinking about various plays and movies I've seen that have played with traditional set-ups like this. One of the earliest examples I can remember was a production of Taming of the Shrew that I saw in junior high. It was done at the state college in town, and the director chose to reimagine it in a wild west setting. I was enthralled. To this day, it remains one of my favorite theater experiences ever, and considering I was a theater major for a good chunk of college and still go whenever I can, that says a lot.

Movies do this all the time. Remember Clueless? Jane Austen's Emma moved to the LA high school world. And we constantly see an influx of books that try the same thing. It's magical when it works well, but while I'm in awe of writers who can pull it off, I also find myself more critical of the end result. Stories like that have to compete with more well-known versions, as well as reader expectations. Some readers are purists and don't like having things tampered with. Others prefer to be surprised. I tend to fall in the latter camp, but I do wonder how big that camp really is. In so many ways, genre fiction is highly predictable, and the author who breaks ranks to switch things up often becomes the target of debate.

Round hole/square peg analogies abound because sometimes the reinventions just don't work. But when they do...it's amazing. Memories can be created that will last for years. I'm sure the director of that Taming production never thought an audience member would be reminiscing about it fondly decades later. I'd like to hope it would please him or her to no end to realize it.