Confession of a former print book snob & other things

Yep, I know it's shocking! I really didn't like ebooks. I hated sitting in one place to read an entire book. With my ADD I move around a lot while reading. It's entertaining for others, but annoying for me. Plus I had the typical attitude of most ignorant, stupid & clueless people. If it didn't come from a NY publisher then it was't worth reading. Oh man I wasted a lot of time on CRAPPY NY print books.

What changed my mind? E-book readers!! I LOVE them!! I have an iPad and read books on it all the time. Mostly I love the instant gratification available with ebooks. There are new authors out there I never heard of until I started reading on the iPad. Now? I can't imagine not having these books on my auto-buy list. Love it!!

Now there's another topic I brought up over at FB this week & I want to know everyone's opinion. Here's what I asked...

"Why do stupid people talk to me? Really? Latest comment from the land of idiots: "Real writers aren't on FB.They have better things to do." Huh, looks like I'm not a real writer, nor have I written real books. I guess my readers are imaginary too, right? Hmm, somehow I don't think I could have come up with the crazies that are my readers. That's too out there even for me."

Now hit me with your opinions, thoughts & brain farts. I want to know exactly how this idiot makes you feel & what you want to do to him.

That's it for this week, peoples. Until next Wednesday....

A Small Miracle

When Gypsy first came into our lives she weighed about 8 ounces and fit neatly into the palm of my hand. Sure, she was our daughter's puppy but the whole family quickly accepted her as 'ours'. Playful and fun, Gypsy is the expressive kind of dog that makes it almost seem as if she's always smiling or maybe even asking a question. She doesn't walk...she prances and at night she must curl up against SOMEONE to be able to sleep. She never got very big and remains to this day, a two-pound bundle of sweetness who loves to cuddle, loves to play.When my daughter headed off to college, she naturally took her baby with her. Gypsy has been her constant companion for many years so it only made sense that she accompany my daughter on her college adventures.

A week ago we almost lost her. Got a frantic phone call last Monday. Gypsy was sick. I urged my daughter to get her to the vet ASAP and she was immediately put into the doggie hospital. Worried sick about her, my daughter and I kept up communication throughout the week. The verdict? It wasn't looking good for our baby. I can't express the cloud of grief that washed over our home. I cried until my eyes were swollen (and bless you Allie for calling to listen). My husband was unusually quiet and withdrawn. My son called to talk about the situation. Through it all, my daughter continued to visit and the vet re-iterated there 'wasn't much hope'. Yes, we were looking at saying goodbye to our darling and I swear, I couldn't bear it.

So last Thursday night we talked with our daughter who said she had to do the right thing. That's a tough decision at twenty but she was determined to be strong. According to the doctors, Gypsy was just not responding to treatment.  Now, I'll say straight off that I pray but I often wonder if it's an act of futility. Was my faith strong enough? Don't know. Let's just say I doubted the strength of any prayers I might offer but that Thursday night, I sat outside for the longest time and prayed.

By Friday morning, I woke up with the feeling that Gypsy was GONE...just GONE. There weren't any tears. Just a sad, terrible acceptance that I would never feel her tiny body curled against mine or cuddle her in my lap as I watched tv at night. Sad. Just so very sad and empty. I talked with my daughter that morning never mentioning what would occur later in the day. I knew she couldn't take it and figured I wouldn't handle it well either.

Hours later, the strangest, oddest thing happened. My daughter called from her car. She was crying. She went on to tell me that when she showed up at the vet she was led into a room to say her goodbyes. Gypsy got UP from the table, walked to her and licked her hand. The vet was stunned and said this was the first response they'd seen from her. The decision was made. Gyspy was coming home. Yes, she is still sick but getting better every day. She is held, cuddled and responding to her meds and my daughter believes she is going to make it.

In the end I don't know if it was the power of prayer or the touch of someone she loves that brought her back. Whatever did it, whatever accomplished this miracle, I'm going to go with it. And I think I'll keep on saying those prayers.

The Alchemy of a Good Book

I love the word alchemy. It’s one of my favorite words actually, and I’m pretty sure one day I’ll either have a character who’s an alchemist or a book title named that in some fashion. So what is alchemy exactly, and how does it relate to books?

Here’s one definition of alchemy I found:

any magical power or process of transmuting a common substance, usually of little value, into a substance of great value.

All books are valuable, I think. But a book’s true value is in its enjoyment. Not everyone likes the same thing, so of course, not everyone enjoys the same books. What you find icky might get me all hot and bothered, or vice versa. But to me, it requires a certain alchemy for a writer to compose a story and a reader to find such resonance in letters on a page that they cry, or laugh, or get turned on – or maybe even all three! That’s definitely magic. To be transported from whatever your life’s circumstances are to another place, maybe another time, and for you to walk in the shoes of another...wow, powerful stuff.

When you get sucked into a story, sometimes you stop seeing the parts. You don’t see an author’s clunky sentences or how the hero’s eyes were blue on pg. 10 but now they’re green on pg. 30. You believe in the story this author has crafted. Writers are readers first, and I know I definitely wanted to give the gift of belief to someone else with my books. It’s such an amazing thing, and rare too, because all too often the alchemy doesn’t happen. You’re NOT sucked in for whatever reason, and you just don’t buy into the world the author’s created. But when you are...gosh, it's just like falling in love. You don't see the flaws, you only see the good things.

I just finished Just My Type by Erin Nicholas. It's my second book of hers and I've loved them both. What's the latest book you've loved?

Perfection...is it perfect?

Once again I've been thinking. Dangerous pastime I know, but I can't help it. Sometimes my last two braincells rub together and there's a spark. The book I read yesterday had the most perfect heroine. I mean she worked as a kindergarden teacher, spent her free time with the elderly & shut ins, ran marathons, never bothered with makeup, forgot to eat when she was busy and looked sexy doing it all. Excuse me while I barf...errr

I'm done for now because I have to describe the hero. He brooded and looked hot doing it. Yep, that's it. He didn't get any deeper. I know more about his finances than I do his emotional state.

Is anyone else feeling way on the nauseous side? Yeah, I know we joke about men being hot & perfect, but if that was all there was we might as well fantasize about a cardboard cutout.

Men with faults, women with attitude those are characters that are real to me. I like smart mouths and smart minds. Give me a woman with curves and bad hair days any day. Hero's who crack bad jokes at the wrong time, can handle curves & know how to cook.

There's something tantalizing about characters with real faults, failures, and feelings. Do I write that way? I sure as heck hope so. My heros might not always be GQ handsome and my heroines will never be size two, but they'll always be real, always talk back and always have plenty to say about everyone else.

New topic!!!

Because this month has flow by (Snoopy Dancing 'cause school started) I almost forgot I have a Quick Quickie coming out tomorrow. It's part of my Erotic Escapes series called Blame It On Bangkok. At only .49 this books a bargin for anyone wanting to try out my writing without spending a whole lot. Yes, I know there are a few of you out there!! Come on try me, you know ya wanna!!!

COMING SOON - August 25

Book 4 in the Erotic Escapes series.

After seven years of married bliss Blanca isn’t about to lose her husband to a twenty-something stick figure. It’s time to pull out all the tricks in this curvy woman’s repertoire.

Waking up to find his sexy wife in his hotel room thrills Zane, until he finds out why she’s there. An email never sent, one detailing his every dark desire, but the only woman starring in his fantasy is his wife. He plans to use their erotic surroundings to win her forgiveness.


Now let's hear about your favorite hero & heroine and what makes them stand out for you!

Yummy Goodness

Admittedly, I've had a bit of a hard time waking up this morning and getting my brain to fully function so I've decided that rather than sit here and babble, I'd post some pics (courtesy of my bestie Nicole Austin). The woman has a helluva hottie collection.

So grab a cuppa joe and enjoy!

 Oh, Joe! My favorite alpha wolfman. Alcide from True Blood.

Ooooh. My favorite kinda hottie. Wouldn't you love to run your hands over those pecs????

 Hmmm. Wonder what HE'S thinkin' about???? I'd love to know that.

 How about a last minute vacation on the beach? Sounds good to me.

What can I say? Wow, just WOW!

Anybody have a favorite? I've always been kind of partial to the look of a man's back and chest (hairless or not). So lets name our favorite body part (besides the obvious...snicker)

Is Chivalry Really Dead?

First of all, I’m not here. Nope. I’m just a fig newton of your imagination. My post is here. And, of course, I promoted it before I left town this morning. But I am physically away from my computer today. I’m driving down to the coast to take some measurements at my new house and get the utilities turned on. So carry on without me. I’ll be around tonight and jump right in!

So what’s my gripe today?

To all of those head doctors who seem to think that reading romance novels is rotting my brain: “Up Yours!” Reading romance novels is a helluva lot better than what I deal with in reality. Thank GOD we have the imagination to give a woman something to hope for! If I had to live with some of the NEANDERTHALS I encounter on a daily basis while innocently running my errands, I’d be in prison.

When did men stop holding the door for a lady? And it’s worse than that. They don’t even wait for the lady to enter first. They go into a building and if you’re lucky, they will hold the door open just long enough to keep it from cold-cocking your ass! Just two days ago I had to literally do a little hop backwards to keep from getting a knot on my head. NO JOKE!

And all that just so he could get to the register first? PUHLEEEEZE!!!! So I said to the dude—who was looking right smug about having gotten in line before me—“HEY! Raised by wolves?”

Yeah, I did. The look I gave him was intended to make him sweat. Instead, he simply shrugged. No guilt whatsoever. Yep, he was raised by wolves all right.

C’mon MAMAs of the world! Do something. Teach these boys some manners!

Am I the only one who has noticed a total lack of manners when it comes to men vs. women? Is chivalry really dead? 

Welcome Guest Blogger Elizabeth Black

What made you buy your last book?

I saw this question in a message board forum on Kindle Boards. Blurbs, recommendations, and establishing a connection to the author inspire me to buy books.

Here are a few examples of what made other readers and writers buy books:

WHAT WORKED:

They liked the blurb.

They liked the title, especially if it was catchy.

They liked the cover.

They didn't like the cover and had to know more about a book that had such an ugly cover.

They made a connection to the author in some way. Some of these readers met the writers on Kindle Boards.

Met the author at a book signing (related to connecting to the author).

They read an interesting blog post about the author.

They read a review or article about the book on a web site, especially a book blog.

They saw a recommendation in a book forum.

Recommendations from people they know.

Skimming the first few pages. Goes to show the importance of a kick-ass hook.

After liking one book by an author, buying more of that author's books.

Because EVERYONE is talking about it. In this case, the book series was George R. R. Martin's "Game of Thrones".

The book or author was recommended by well-known and respected authors.

The book was a very good sale price or free. So those free or $0.99 cent e-book sales do work.

WHAT DIDN'T WORK:

Not one person mentioned author spam on Yahoo groups or author's spamming their book links in book forums. The point seems to be getting good reviews, having excellent blurbs, and establishing a connection with the readers rather than bombarding them with information about your books along with the millions of other indie writers doing the same thing. Those Monday Promo Days on Yahoo groups? You get lost in the sea of writers promoting on the same day. I'll admit I have been guilty of this because I was told it works. I'm cutting down on all that and simply hanging out in forums. It's the same amount of time daily I used to spend doing promo but it's much more fun connecting to people on a one-on-one basis. My favorite successful authors do it whether on book blogs, book forums, or on their Facebook walls.

So there you have it. You have only a few moments to catch a reader's attention whether it's a blurb, review, or recommendation. Chatting up people and talking about everything other than your own books (until asked or the topic slides in easily) is fun and a pleasant way to spend your time. Plus I'm finding some books that interest me. Just discovered a whole slew of biohazard and revenge books I'm dying to read. And I've discovered cat lovers. Lots and lots of cat lovers.  All from hanging out in book forums.

-------------------------

COMING IN SEPTEMBER
DON'T CALL ME 'BABY'
Contemporary Erotic Romance Set In The Go-Go 1980s.
Publisher: Naughty Nights Press
Release Date: September, 2011

BLURB:

DON'T CALL ME 'BABY' is a fast-paced, quick-witted, sexy novel about a young woman exploring her sexuality and the cultural morés she collides with on a daily basis. It's 1983 in Maryland and Catherine Stone is sex on wheels. She plays the field the way men have done for aeons. Not content to strive for her MRS degree like so many young women her age, she seduces men of all stripes - married college professors, theatre students, virgins, complete strangers who intrigue her. She has already cost one man his job. But she asks herself lots of questions on her search to enjoy her sexuality. Why don't other women enjoy their sex as much as she does? Why do so many women and men look down on sexually free women, calling them sluts while sexually free men are called studs and Lotharios? She bucks at the double standards! Catherine has made no commitment to any man. She's free to explore and she gladly does so. No man can tie her down and no woman's judgment will stop her from playing the field to her heart's content. Does she meet her match in a new man who introduces her to sexual bliss she had never before experienced? When she tries multiple partners and bondage for the first time as a submissive, she believes she's found the sexual bliss she is looking for - and with a man who not only introduces her to the fineries in life but also cares about her like no man ever has before.

Look for this book in September, 2011. I'll update on my web site, blog, and Facebook page as the release date approaches.

Elizabeth Black
Facebook
http://www.facebook.com/elizabethablack

Blog/Web Site
http://elizabethablack.blogspot.com/

Kicking Angst To The Curb

I can’t seem to stay away from Angst. It’s basically my bad boyfriend. At first I just saw him on the side, enjoying the occasional hot and illicit dalliance. One night became two. Two nights became a week. Two weeks became a whole book. And another book. And then yet one more, until I’d get the shakes after he left, wondering what I’d do without him. Could I really write a book without a lot of drama? Would it feel the same? When things are good, they’re so good. I love Angst like nobody’s business. But then I started seeing bad talk from readers about how Angst was up to no good. How he’d brought way too much drama with him, and they didn’t want to read about it anymore. They’d just had enough.

Where was the FUN? Where was the light sexy banter that had once been lamented as fluffy but now seems to be in short supply? Why can’t a couple just have a good time together that leads to more? Why does it have to be so hard?

(And why is my own angst leading me to ask so many questions?)

So I decided instead of lamenting my lack of Angst in my current book, I’d enjoy it. I’d enjoy the fun and stop trying to let Angst’s evil machinations create melodrama where it wasn’t needed. This time I’d ride the sexy/fun/playful pony all the way to the finish line and stop considering the deeper ramifications of a blue condom over silver. Sometimes a rubber really is just a rubber, whether it is latex or a ducky.

I just turned in an angsty book. It’s my thing lately. So that means I need to find a new thing for a while, to keep myself fresh. Everyone needs a little variety now and then. My variety will be writing a fun, sexy book that isn’t about anything deeper than enjoying sex, friendship, and discovering how deep your feelings for someone really run. That’s it. No discovering you’re bisexual after a lifetime of being hetero. No secret affairs with the boss’s daughter that have turned you into a cold shell of a man. No wondering about the broader implications of having a threesome and what society will think of you. For once, I shall write a menage book that is just about enjoying a menage and falling further in love. It won’t be a kiwi masquerading as a tomato disguised as a cantaloupe.

So...what about you? What’s your mood du jour when it comes to your current reading/writing preferences? Are you all about the angst or do you prefer a lighter read? Or does it depend on the characters and the circumstances?

Pass the duct tape, Mia's talking again.

HEY! Shout out to Jen B. who came to the Authors After Dark book signing and found me. What an awesome thing to meet one of our blog regulars.

Things uttered at conference that I probably should have thought harder about...

1. "I'm full of dick!" Yes, I said it. In my defense, I was on a panel entitled, "You don't know dick." As one of the women on the panel, I introduced myself with the disclaimer that I since I don't HAVE the man parts, I might not be able to discuss dick appropriately. By the end of the panel, one of the audience members said, "See, Mia? You DO know dick!" and I said, "Yes! I do! I'm FULL of dick!"

2. "Anyone wanna go down?" I shouted at the top of my lungs, arms flung wide. Yep, that's right. But there were four elevators and the wait time for one of them was incredibly long. So there were about ten people waiting for a car, when one became available. The lesson I learned? Going down means something all together different in a group of romance writers. On the bright side, the sexy tattoo artist with the kilt thought that going down was a great idea. So did the 21 year old newb writer who shadowed me all weekend. I declined the kind offers.

3. "I'll stand here, unless you want to jump me." Again with the elevators. They were filled and I was at the front of the car. I got out on a floor and a guy from the back (not a writer) said, "No, this is MY floor." And I said, "I know. I'll stand here, unless you want to jump me." *sigh* The writers in the group laughed. The biker guy I was talking to, actually blushed.

4. "America. WHAT HAPPENED to you? I'm so sorry." Said in my sleep with great disgust and inflection, according to my roommate, Bronwyn Green. I still don't know what I was dreaming, or what the heck I did that destroyed America. Apparently, I am plague.

There were other things. I say a lot without always thinking first. However, I'm told that's part of my charm. If you ask me, it's a trait I'd love to take a pass on. I provide a public service. I'm the one you want around so that people laugh at me, instead of you. You're welcome.

Taboos: are there any left in the romance world?

Don't ask where I came up with the question. Let's just say once the question popped in my head I couldn't get it to leave. Kind of like that Gummy Bear song that almost drove me mad.

I know there used to be taboos against interracial romance and gay romance. I'm not saying these are the big bad and horrible, it's not that. I'm trying to undertand what the general public consider taboo?

Most books have labels such a M/F or M/F/M or M/M or F/F/M or M/M/F or party of six or more. For those of you already lost I'll explain.
M/F= male in sexual contact with one female
M/F/M= Two males with the female in the middle, no real sexual contact between the two males
M/M= male on male romance & sex.
M/M/F= two men in sexual contact with each other and a woman
F/F/M= two females in sexual contact with each other and a man
Party of ? or more= orgy in which everyone's pretty much touching everyone else's happy place.

I'm sure there's other categories I've missed. People might even get upset at the way I explain the abbreviations. Sorry about that but it's the simplest way I know how to put it. Don't get angry & start hate mail. The royal guards can't stand doing mail duty. Takes away from guarding my ladies in waiting, naughty minxes that they are :) Something about those kilts, accents & sexy legs....yummy!

Ummm where was I?? Oh yeah about to jump my guards....

& I'm back...whew


For me it's one night stands. I can't write them and leave it at that. I know writers who did and it turns out amazing. Me, no can do. One night a relationship does not make. In Naughty Nature I fought with myself to justify the emotions and connection between Aria & Mac. In the end the very nature of their sexual relationship broke down the normal girl/boy boundaries. Stripping away the artificial masks all of us wear in our day to day lives leaves you open to another person. This is how I knew it could and would work in Naughty Nature. When Aria dropped her walls, gave Mac control she was showing him exactly who she was at the most basic level. Or at that's what I believe and it's something I had to trust in order to write that particular story.

Every publisher I'm familiar with has strick taboos on sex with animals, golden showers, incest & under age sex. However things have changed as far as rape goes. Some houses are more open to it in certain conditions, as in rape fantasies. Now I'm not one to condem anyone's Naughty Nature, but for me it's going too far. I will never write rape, playing or not. If some writers choose to do so that's a personal decision and I will not fault them for it.

Some people consider BDSM wrong, sinful or dirty. I might have been one of those if friends hadn't taken me aside to explain the reality of the power exchange. Other people will tell me I'll burn in hell for writing about demons, demi-gods, leprechauns and the like. Not much I can do about that except pity them for missing out on some really great stories :)

Another hush hush would be fur play. The act of dressing in costumes of what I consider stuffed animals, teddy bears, dogs, cats, birds, that kind of thing. I may be wrong, in no way am I saying I have a clue about this lifestyle. My moto has always been "over 21 & consenting".

Some people consider dressing & living like ponies to be erotic and sensual. Again I don't understand it, but it fulfills a matching need between 'pony' & 'trainer' then okay. Still I draw the line at eating oats from a bucket. I'm more of a lobster in candlelight kind a princess.

Other people find it erotic to make love to inanimate objects such as cars, dolls, or guns. I don't get it, but is it taboo? What about the older/younger relationship didn't it used to be something we never talked about if the woman was older? Now there are television shows dedicated to the subject. We've got writers with series about cougars and their men. Women are proud to land a young hottie.

Fantasy is great. It's amazing and can enrich our sex lives in many and various ways, but at what cost? When did it become not enough to have two people in love joining their bodies together to celebrate and express those emotions? Or am I the only one to think we're losing sight of the meaning behind romance regardless of the gender involved?

What's the last barrier we're willing to accept? What line in the sand have we moved closer and closer to?

Remember no throwing tomatoes, only nice shiny sparkly objects are allowed. Anyone caught violating this royal decree will be sentenced to the frog pits. It's a horror I'd wish on no one so please behave!!

Until next week!
Kudos,
Allie

PS: I'm in another contest mood. Leave a comment & I'll pick a winner or two at random. Check my FB page for the winner's names.

When a Good Book goes Wrong

We've all heard horror stories about books that have gone wrong. Editing errors. Pages and sometime whole chapters left out. Just a lot of bad problems. So whose fault is it when things like this happen? The author, the editor or the publisher?

Yesterday I read an interesting conversation on a loop about this very thing with many chiming in on the subject so I thought I'd share my thoughts on the issue. As an author, when I sign on with a publisher I expect a number of things. I expect an editor to make sure my work is presented at its best, cover art, and support and promotion from my publisher. I expect my checks will arrive promptly when promised and that I will be treated with a businesslike respect. My job as an author is to make sure my work, when presented, is polished and as error-free as I can make it. Now let me say right off the bat that I have been so so very fortunate in having fantastic publishers and editors. I have zero complaints but I know many authors have trouble and let's face it, we often find our books 'downgraded' by review sites for editing or formatting mistakes. This isn't fair because it's not the authors job to edit. Our stories go from our editor (who has been hired by the publisher) to final line editors and then, ultimately to the publishers desk before a book goes out into the world to be purchased by readers.

So if a good book goes BAD, who is ultimately responsible? Well now, that is the million dollar question. Is it the author? No, probably not. If she has made a good faith effort to correct and polish and follow the advice of her editor she has delivered on her promise. Is it the editor? Maybe, but ultimately she was hired by the publisher for her expertise and it is the publisher's job to ensure she knows her stuff. I personally believe that anyone running a company has an obligation to make sure the cogs in the wheel are well-oiled and, for a publisher, that is to make sure each book that launches is as good as it can be. Yes, there are many bad editors and tons of shoddy publishing companies out there. It is my belief those folks won't be in business long. Word gets around. My best advice to writers is to talk with other authors, network like crazy until you find the perfect 'fit' for you and your work. There are plenty of pitfalls out there. As an author, you need to do your homework!

Strip Down..Shameless Promo!!!

Yep, I want you to buy my book. Strip Down has it all! A stripper and a cop. Now what better combination can you imagine? It's hot. It's really hot. The pages burn!

Blurb:

What’s a topless dancer to do when a cop tells her to “spread ’em”? Cooperate, of course. Which is exactly what Jazzmyn Monroe does when her big-city dreams land her in a world of trouble and the arms of sexy detective Ryder Muldoon. Jazzmyn is no angel, but she doesn’t expect the rip-roaring, passion-filled rollercoaster ride given by one of L.A.’s finest.

An honest cop with a target painted on his back, Ryder is forced to go rogue if he wants to stay alive, and the hottest woman he’s ever laid eyes on is the key to his plan. It’s supposed to be just business with a side of sex. If only it were that simple. Jazzmyn’s sinful curves and aptitude for red-hot loving ramp up his libido…and a whole lot more.

Excerpt:

Rivers of blue smoke layered the air. The hoots and hollers of drunken men drilled through the savage strains of heavy metal music and surged within her body. Glass shattered and two rabid men faced off, the broken beer bottle each held nothing more than an extension of their cocks. Unfazed by the nightly display of testosterone-fueled, alcohol-induced rage, Jazzmyn turned her back to the scene and concentrated on working the runway patrons to her advantage.

“Grind it, baby, grind it!” shouted a man sitting a couple of feet away.

To reward the enthusiastic customer, she looked directly at him and smiled. Yeah, he’s good for a ten-spot at least. She pitched her hips in his direction then slowly rolled them back and forth. He lunged for her and she stepped out of reach.

Not so fast. Show me da money.

He held up a dollar bill, but the man next to him waved a twenty. We’re talkin’ my language now. She sucked on her finger, swaying her hips from side to side, and stared at the dark-haired Mr. Twenty. God, what a hunk. A little too clean-cut for this place. She figured he’d gotten lost from the rest of the convention pack he probably traveled with. For a moment she wondered what it would be like to wake up with someone like him every morning. Someone who didn’t belong here—the place where she did belong. Gesturing her closer with the crisp green bill, he never cracked a smile. Cool, not too excitable. Well, she’d just see about that. They all had a chink in their armor somewhere. It was simply a matter of pushing the right button.

Jazzmyn bent over and let her bare breasts dangle just above the money. He folded the bill lengthwise, making it good and stiff, and brushed it across her nipples. Oh shit. This guy knows what he’s doing. Lust swelled low in her belly and her cunt became moist. He had nice eyes. Dark blue. Eyes a woman could get lost in if she didn’t know any better.

And Jazzmyn knew one hell of a lot better.

A path of searing heat followed the double sawbuck on its journey down her torso to the tiny G-string that covered her clean-shaven pussy. His gaze locked with hers. She whipped upward and thrust her cunt at his face. He never even flinched, but it got her the twenty. His hot fingers lingered on her flesh as he tucked the green inside the string wrapped around her hips. Damn, he’d wound her up. Those deep-set eyes, intense and forbidden, stared up at her.

Wiggling her way to the pole at the center of the stage, she pressed her barely covered wet pussy to the cold metal and slid her slickened folds up and down the smooth steel. It was the special part of her little show. She dared a glance at the man. He shook his head and beckoned with a fifty.

Fuck! She often pretended to get off on stage, but this man didn’t seem to want that. What’s up with him? Her fake orgasm act on the pole usually netted her a hundred bucks in appreciative tips. It wasn’t as if she’d allow any of them to do the job. So why stop her? Then again, maybe she would let this one. He wasn’t the average asshole, was he?

What was she thinking? He was an asshole, all right, or he wouldn’t be here, would he? He’d be at home with his wife and kids. If she were his wife, she’d make sure he stayed at home. No chance of anything like that happening for her though.

Maybe he thought seventy bucks earned him the right to say when. Okay. She’d play along. Back to the man. Back to the money. Angling her knees outward, she squatted in front of him. Almost eye level, she stared him down. Make your move, honey.

His tongue snaked from his lips as he glanced down at her silk-covered cunt and back up at her eyes. Ohhhh, he wants to touch the pussy. I might look like an easy piece dancing around up here, showing my ass to keep a roof over my head, but it’ll take more than a fifty to get what you want, slick. Jazzmyn shook her head and rocked her hips forward. He nodded his understanding.

Stowing the fifty in his wallet, he withdrew a hundred and raised an eyebrow. She shook her head again. He coupled the hundred with another. His blue eyes darkened and narrowed somewhat, which she took to mean he’d reached his limit.

She grabbed the money and held it between her teeth as she flattened her hands on the floor behind her and heaved her hips into the air. The man dipped his head to her cunt. Only seconds remained before the bouncers would tear him away.

Then all hell broke loose and cops flooded the joint!

The man jumped from his chair and pulled her from the runway. Jazzmyn slapped at him but he tossed her over his shoulder and ran toward the rear of the club. Heart racing, blood rushing to her head, she looked up from her position on the guy’s back and saw the waitresses and customers being herded up against the walls and handcuffed. Why the hell were the cops raiding the club? She thought about screaming for help, but who the hell could—or would help her? The cops would take her to jail just like the rest of them. Her best chance was to hang on tight and hope the man carrying her knew what he was doing and that he wasn’t some sort of crazed serial killer.

Jazzmyn recognized the sound of the club’s metal door as her temporary savior shoved it open and rushed out into the alley where the heated air of the L.A. night met them. Mr. Good-Looking turned left toward the alley, which swung her dangling body to the right. The two hundred dollars she’d held crushed in her hand fell to the pavement with the jostling movement. Shit. She lifted her head once more, seeing the crumpled money skittering away on a breeze and slowly receding from sight. She watched in awe as police lights strobed and reflected off the large plate-glass windows in the few storefronts she could see.

The deeper the man ran into the alley, the darker it became—eventually growing lighter again as they reached the other end, where he set her down next to a car. What now? Would he let her go? Fear drummed inside her and dizziness from hanging upside down over his body overwhelmed her, buckling her knees. The strange man held on to her and she slumped against his massive chest. His strong heart thumped loudly in her ear—such a surprisingly soothing sound.

With the dizziness gone, she pushed off his arms. Damn, the guy must have spent hours in the gym. She looked up at his face to find him staring down at her. Shining bright with the glow of neon lights, his eyes stunned her. Definitely not your ordinary asshole.

He moved his face closer and her gaze strayed to his lips. She wondered how they would feel on hers. Mere seconds ticked by and their mouths came together. She breathed in his scent, so virile and spicy. His mouth tasted of whiskey, his tongue soft and warm twining with hers. And she was all but naked, just a tiny scrap of fabric separating them. Since when did she feel self-conscious about her state of undress? For that matter, when the hell had she started kissing customers?

His hands moved down her back and lower to cup her bare ass cheeks. Spasms of pleasure flared in her cunt. Her juices trickled. Sex in an alley with a man she didn’t know—dangerous, forbidden. What she was doing finally registered and she broke the kiss.

Her heart stuttered. It was one thing to perform on stage for money, maybe to cross the line and let a guy cop a feel for a little extra, but sex in a dark alley with a perfect stranger wasn’t something she’d bargained for. Why the hell had she ever left Georgia? In the last five years she’d bounced from one shithole to the next, one asshole to another. Searching for what? Love? Yeah, at first. Now she just wanted out, but there was no one or nothing to go back to. Not a single inviting rainbow on her horizon. She was stuck.

“I’m a dancer, mister. That’s all I do.” The words came out in a rush of air.

His hypnotic gaze bored into her. He brought his hand to her cheek and let his thumb brush her lips. Holy shit. What is he? Some kind of sexual Svengali? Rising and falling with his steady breathing, his chest grazed her naked breasts. She shuddered and dropped his hand to cover one of the aroused peaks, fingers flicking the nipple. An almost torturous desire streamed through her.

“Oh, I think you can do a lot more than dance,” he said.

Some people wear their hearts on their sleeves, but Jazzmyn had always kept hers in her shoe so she could step on it herself. And this man’s lay-me-down-in-the-shade-and-fuck-me-honey voice had just nailed her to the pavement. Her body—and if given the chance, her heart—were going to roll over and play dead. Well, not dead. Done deal. She was as good as his.

“Ther-there’s a policy against fraternizing with customers.”

“We could be the exception to the rule,” he said.

That voice stalked her, moving in like a summer storm, and there was no place for her to run even if she could. It had been a long time since she’d actually wanted a man—lusted for one—and she sure as hell lusted for this one. Every once in a while those silly little-girl dreams of happily ever after popped into her head without warning.

This was one of those times. 

http://www.jasminejade.com/p-9440-strip-down.aspx

OR
'
http://www.amazon.com/Strip-Down-ebook/dp/B005E8ALB6/ref=sr_1_8?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1313433235&sr=1-8

Welcome Guest Blogger Mona Risk

Regina, thank you for hosting me on your beautiful blog. I have been looking forward to visiting with you and chatting about my new paranormal fantasy.

If you ever thought that gods are saints, you are in for a big surprise. Let me introduce our readers to the Egyptian mythology that abounds with tales of passion, tragedy and war, such as the myth of Isis and Osiris.
Two years ago, I had the unique opportunity to cruise along the Nile River and tour the monuments of Ancient Egypt. Hundreds of pictures, brochures about Egyptian gods, and a map of Ancient Egypt helped me create the exotic setting of my new paranormal fantasy: OSIRIS’ MISSING PART.

Here is an excerpt from chapter one that will help you understand the premise of the story and give you a taste of the Pharaonic mentality:
A sigh escaped Isis’ quivering lips. Unable to detach her gaze from the area that should have harbored Osiris’ fabulous shaft and now displayed a human penis, void of supernatural power, she debated how to reveal the tragedy.
“You’re alive and awake.” To reassure him, she caressed his chest with her open palm and leaned forward to rain kisses over his taut flesh.
Her loving gesture elicited another growl of frustration. With a disgusted grunt, Osiris grabbed her hand and lowered it between his thighs. “This is not my glorious member, my pride. Isis, my godly power is missing. What happened?” His voice curt, his tone impatient, Almighty Osiris scrambled to a sitting position in the wooden coffin. “Where is my own penis?” His thunderous voice echoed across the clouded skies. “Answer me, woman.”
“I wish I knew.” Dejection snaked around her heart. “After Seth trapped you, he killed you, and—”
“My brother killed me?” Osiris sprang to his feet and stepped out of the sarcophagus. His legs wobbled and his knees buckled for a brief instant. Adversity hadn’t affected his beautiful features and superb body.
Long dark hair floated over his shoulders with a few strands shadowing his noble forehead. The balsamic spicy and citrus scents of holy oils used to embalm his body wafted in the warm midday air. His pulse throbbed at the base of his throat, and muscles rippled across his powerful chest.
With a mighty kick, he cracked and splintered his former coffin and hurled it into the river. The energy of his rage grazed her skin. Isis jolted backward and suppressed a smile of relief. He was recovering his strength more quickly than expected. No bruises, scars, or bumps marred his grayish-pale complexion. His tattoo of a golden and green Atef-crown topped by a blue eye still circled his upper arm. Isis had wrapped it in papyrus to protect any fading during his death. She congratulated herself on a successful healing.
“And then he chopped your body into fourteen pieces and flung them all over Egypt. I looked for them—”
“He chopped me into fourteen pieces?” Osiris fisted his hands and ground his teeth, his face flashing with revulsion. The onyx color of his eyes shone with bloody beads. “Wait ’til I get my hands on that lowly scorpion. I’ll—”
“My love, I found thirteen of the pieces.” Resentment boiled in her heart as she assessed Osiris’ human penis. Damn you Seth. I’ll shred your balls with my own nails.
“Only thirteen?” A deep grunt wrenched from Osiris chest.
Isis exhaled and scowled. He hadn’t even thanked her for her monumental effort. “For a full year, I combed the reeds and papyrus along the Nile banks, climbed the rocky hills, and marched through the dunes of the burning desert to search for your body parts. Each time I found a piece, I staged a mock funeral to trick Seth into believing I buried you.” She broke down and covered her face with her hands.
The breeze carried a refreshing aroma of mint and thyme mingled with the sweet fragrance of ripe dates. She inhaled deeply, seeking calm, but her anger escalated to a hissed string of curses directed at her lover’s brother.
“Isis,” Osiris said, shifting tormented eyes toward her. “How did you bring me back to life?”
“A few minutes ago, a wooden raft dropped me off on the shore with your coffin.” She had dragged the heavy box away from the water, thrown her bag under a tree and shed her soaking garments. Choosing her words, she explained how she’d reassembled him like a precious puzzle.
His features warped with pain, fear and fury.
“I think I removed most of the spells that Seth cast upon you,” she added to appease him.
His gaze flitted to his belly and his hand covered the human organ that surely shamed him. “But you never found the fourteenth piece? My male member where my power is stored?”
Typical man, he has been brought back from the dead and all he can think of is his manhood.
“Unfortunately not. But I replaced it with one I took from a dying soldier to make you whole again.”
“Isis?” His eyes widened with horror and dropped to his groin. “It’s human, not godly.”
“It’s the best I could do under the circumstances. But my donor was a giant well endowed. You won’t feel too much difference.”
“Are you comparing this despicable human flesh to my supernatural cock?”

Blurb: According to the legend, the evil god of storm, Seth, killed his brother Osiris, chopped him into fourteen pieces and flung them all over Egypt. Isis, goddess of family, reassembled thirteen of his body parts. Since she couldn’t find his supernatural male member where his godly power was stored, she reattached a human one.
Isis has always loved Osiris, the charming god of labor every woman adores. While dreaming of marriage, family and a son, she helps him fight Seth. His trip to the Afterlife has changed Osiris. Now, he regrets his past womanizing. Guided by oracles Isis utters when they make love, they search lands and seas until they find Osiris’ missing organ and he recovers his godly attributes. Osiris has fallen in love with Isis but the sins of his past and their unexpected consequences threaten to separate them more painfully than Seth’s mayhem and curses.
Buy link at Ellora’s Cave Blush $5.24: http://www.jasminejade.com/p-9394-osiris-missing-part.aspx
Reviews:

Night Owl Review: 4*~ Mona Risk draws upon Egypt and the mythology of the Egyptian gods. Join her for the adventure as she takes you on a trip into the past and into an enjoyable realm
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Steph Burkhart on Amazon: 5*~The most rewarding aspect of the story was the characterization of Isis and Osiris. While gods and capable of supernatural achievements, both have very human hearts. The novel is sophisticated for romance readers with love scenes that are graphic, sensual, and tasteful. Risk's imagination shines against the lush backdrop of ancient Egypt. "Osiris' Missing Part" is a wonderful escape to another time and place that proves love does conquer all.

Mona Risk is a multipublished award-winning author with two international romantic suspense novels available at Ellora’s Cave, Blush. TO LOVE A HERO and FRENCH PERIL. Her contemporary romances, BABIES IN THE BARGAIN, Rx for TRUST and Rx in RUSSIAN are published by The Wild Rose Press. Her books received stellar reviews, have been Finalist in EPICON, Best Book of The Week at The Long And The Short Reviews, and won Best Contemporary Novel of the Year at Readers Favorite, and Preditors & Editors. All her books are available as ebooks or print at the publisher, amazon.com, Fictionwise, Barnes&Noble.com,…

http://www.monarisk.com/ http://www.monarisk.blogspot.com/

Say Goodbye to Summer...wha?!?

Is it just me or is our go-go-go society so obsessed with getting to the next thing that we seem to lose sight of where we are right now?

All over the place I see Back to School sales, most of which seemed to start about a day after school let out for the summer. In late July, the craft stores start putting out the fall/Halloween stuff. The minute the Back to School things are shelved away, out comes Christmas. Oh, who am I kidding? There are probably stores selling Christmas decorations already.

I admit it - I love fall. It's my absolute favorite season and I wish it would stay fall all year. By the time we get to August I'm like a little kid, bouncing around excitedly as the weather turns cooler, the sunshine becomes sweeter, and the first colorful leaves begin to drift from the trees. But lately I've been noticing how we all seem so interested in that rush to get to the next big thing - the next season, the next book, the next thing on our To Do list - that we don't really seem present in our day to day lives. Sure, anticipation makes life worth living. But it's also good to appreciate what we have, right here and now.

Today I'm trying to enjoy the warmth and the sunshine...though I'm already thinking about Starbucks Pumpkin Spice Lattes (OMG, yum!) and football season, which means basketball season is right around the corner. Can't wait! Oh, yeah, that's right. I'm supposed to be savoring the moment.

What's YOUR favorite season and what are you looking forward to most? And heck, what's making your day great right now?

My Readers= Fans/Freaks/Friends????

You hear the horror stories. The one that starts with my friend in RWA's cousin's sister's crit partner's former chapter member's best friend ended up being stalked by a reader. Yeah, cause it's so likely to happen. What most people don't understand is readers/fans whatever you want to call them start off as strangers, but soon enough end up as friends. In the age of the Facebook, websites and emails it's easy to meet and befriend people halfway across the world. Of course I do have a sneaky motivation for that...free lodging when I travel...lmao!!

I'm easy. No really I am. Readers send me emails saying how much they love my books. And now I'm leaving all my worldly goods to them :) If someone takes the time to let me know they enjoy my writing then already we have something in common. We both love me, sarcasm, hot men & shiny sparkly things. Hearing someone else's take on my characters, plot or hot love scenes feeds my muse. Readers are amazing, smart people and I'll take as many as I can get.

What does tick me off? People assuming readers (at least my readers) are ignorant. Yep, you read right. There was some cable talk show on at a weird hour I happened upon discussing the decline of women's roles in the home due to romance novels. Mostly the show dealt with two men discussing how these hypothetical women read my books & it rots their brains. Like you can't learn anything from romance novels. Huh, guess all that book learning I did all the way through college was wasted too?

Umm, hello have they even read a romance novel in the past twenty years? Do they know the amount of time and research I put into each book (BDSM club anyone). My Erotic Escapes series, even the quickies, take a ton a research alone. Why do I take so much time to get every little detail right? Because if I don't my readers will know! Think I'm lying. HA! Pleasure Me in Petra, the charming story of a nature demon & mouthy American? A very nice lady emailed me after she read the book. Said she bought it for the title alone because she'd just come back from Petra & wanted to see how many mistakes I made. Yep, I got all mentally offended & got ready to slap the battle tiara on my head. Then she went on to say how amazing and detailed my descriptions were & how I nailed the essence perfectly. Almost brought a tear to my royal eye...sniff sniff.

Plus, I have a really good friend & awesome roomie Cerise Deland. She writes hot, sexy, mysterious historicals. You will never catch me writing one, sorry, but the details of that research boggles my little ADD mind. Anyway, seeing and hearing what she goes through to get everything right...WOW. She's got research books out the yang yang & still double checks herself with historical societies.

Every writer worth their laptop does this for the reader. I do it because I'm that nosy & for the readers :) These men and women want to learn about different lives, cultures & experiences. Granted some places are from the bottomless realm of my warped imagination, Poseidon Series, but others actually exist.

Readers are not stupid people. They don't waste their money or time with an author not willing to put in the work to make the story all that it can be. Why should they?

So forgive me if I don't understand the fear & freakiness that some writers complain about. My readers are awesome, demented but awesome so I have no problem meeting them. Granted I'm not sharing my cell phone number 'cause you know some drunk fool will call me at 3am wanting to talk heros & hot sex. Ummm, unless you're offering cash or tiaras I don't do 3am anymore.

Now you show up at my house wanting to babysit my bunny or something I'm running for my gun. I'm a Texas girl so I have a gun & I know how to use it. Side topic I'm working on getting a pink 9mm. Think I can bedazzle that?

The moral of this slightly warped & twisted story? Don't fear the readers, fear normal people. Now they scare me!

Kudos,
Allie

Pushing the Envelope

Seems these days more and more authors are pushing the envelope and in some ways that might not neccesarily be a good thing. Already erotica or 'romantica' authors fight the comparisons between what we write and porn. It's a very fine line we walk to begin with. Most of us know the differences between the two. Porn is sex without any kind of story, emotion, character developement, etc. We writers of erotic romance show in our work how through the sexual journey emotions are heighted, self-awareness is gained and how this journal can lead to love and the promise of a happy ever after.

Readers of our work know there are many subgenres such as menage and bdsm. They are popular with folks who like a spicy tale, aren't they?  Lately I've noticed lots of authors pushing the envelope and the word on the street is that many smalls pubs are encouraging their writers to put out more and more menages and adding more and men with one woman into the mix. Do we really want to see our heroine, the woman we are rooting for, having sex with a half a dozen men or more? Really? Pushing the envelope. But how far can that envelope be pushed without crossing the line into something that can clearly be labeled as porn? Tough subject I know, but I've certainly been wondering about it lately. Now maybe it's my old-fashioned southern upbringing kicking in but when I began writing erotic romance there were a number of self-imposed rules that stuck firmly in my brain."Stranger sex' is a personal taboo with me and I never do it unless my characters are built into a mythological/paranormal world where there is an undeniable connection that is not only sexual but emotional and psychic. My straight contemporary stories usually involve one man/one woman and though they feel free to experiment sexually they stick with each other for that.

Over the past week or so I've read scenes that involve multiple partners (all of whom are strangers to the heroine) and it makes me wonder if there isn't a little bit of "line crossing" going on. How does the heroine build any kind of emotional bond with these multitudes of brawny fellas? Fact is, she probably doesn't. So does this kind of story cross the line into porn? And does the fact she eventually 'gets with' the hero absolve the heroine and make her seem less of a loose-knickers sort of person? I'd be interested to hear what ya'll think? And if you are a reader of erotic romance, does this behavior by the heroine turn you off or make you hungry to buy more? Inquiring minds want know.

In other news: I have a release TOMORROW. Return of the Daredevil, a sequel to Return to Delight (Ellora's Cave) tells the story of T Dobbs and Melanie Honeycutt. T is the youngest of the Dobbs' brothers and has been off doing his thing as a stunt man but the small town of Delight, Texas and the lure of one sexy little lady proves irresistable to a man who longs to get 'back to his roots".

Even MORE news:
My hot paranormal/shifter menage Tinderbox was accepted by Jaid Black and Ellora's Cave for inclusion in the anthology Something Wicked This Way Comes. Have no idea when the books will be released (I'm included in Volume 2) but will be sure to let ya'll know as soon as dates are released. In the meantime, let me share the cover with you.

Here's a little bit about Return of the Daredevil! Hope you like it.

Scrumptious scoundrel. Daredevil T Dobbs, the sexiest cowboy to ever walk the streets of Delight, Texas, headed out of town, taking Melanie Honeycutt’s heart with him. But now he’s back and hotter than ever. Trust him? Her head says no but her body has other ideas.



Stubborn woman. She was the girl T never forgot and the woman he yearns for in the deepest part of his heart. But what’s a man to do when she doesn’t believe he’s home for good? T knows his way around dangerous curves, and Mel’s are hot enough to burn a man. He figures it’ll take a slow hand and some downright smokin’-hot sex to melt her reserve but he’s definitely up for the challenge.

An Excerpt From: RETURN OF THE DAREDEVIL

Copyright © REGINA CARLYSLE, 2011

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

She looked up and froze to see T silhouetted in the doorway of the gym.

The sun was at his back, casting him in shadows, and the entire room went still. Heavy air seemed to hover like a living thing in the gym and even the teenaged girls didn’t make a peep as he filled up the room with his presence. But even cast in shadow, it was impossible to mistake that long, lean frame or the swagger in his stride as he finally began to cross the room. T’s bootheels rapped sharply on the carefully tended hardwood. He moved like a man who did what he pleased and took what he wanted. Determination marked his every step and as he drew closer, the shadows lifted, showing Mel the glint in his storm-colored eyes. They were hungry eyes. Sexy eyes. Heavily lashed, they narrowed dangerously beneath the brim of a straw summery cowboy hat that had definitely seen better days. T’s hair beneath the battered hat was long, thick and black, brushing the tops of sturdy shoulders that she practically itched to stroke with her fingers. The hint of a five o’clock shadow covered the lower part of his sexy, masculine face. Oh boy. T for trouble. Suddenly he grinned, throwing her even further off guard as he tipped back the brim of his hat and moved in close enough to touch.

“Hey, darlin’,” he drawled. Before she could blink, T Dobbs wrapped a muscular arm around her, hauling her close, and breathed against her lips. “Damn, woman. I missed you. Kiss me hello, sweet thang.”

The world instantly melted away.

Just like that he stole every bit of good sense she’d ever possessed as his lips took hers in a savage kiss that quite simply rocked her world. There was nothing tentative in T’s mouth slowly devouring hers. His tongue cruised over her lips, tasting thoroughly before dipping deep until she could taste all the complex flavors of this man she’d always loved. If anything his kisses were even better than they’d been all those many years ago. A flash of jealousy whipped through her as she wondered about how he’d gained all this expertise but then the anger was dashed away under the seductive lash of his tongue.

She was lost. Taken under. Obliterated with just one touch.

One big hand cupped the curve of her jaw as a twitter of sound swept the room. Giggling and applause and chatter came at her as if from a distance but, truth be told, she could barely hear it over the roar of blood in her ears. Her nipples went hard against the practical cotton of her bra and she gasped at the sensation.

“Hey! Get your hands off her. What do you think you’re doing?”