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Flashback and Contest: First Knight
Saturday, October 26th, 2013

Flashback: First Knight

I’m having a lazy Saturday. No plans other than playing with beads and posting blogs. Maybe I’ll get out of my pajamas. Maybe I won’t. I ran errands all day yesterday and attended an art guild dinner last night. I think I’m ready to return to hermit mode. :roll:

Do you have big plans for the weekend? Or are you like me—enjoying the first really cool weather, cuddling in blankies and sipping hot cocoa? Hope you enjoy the excerpt from First Knight and good luck with the contest! I’ll post the winner Monday morning!

Post a comment and you’ll be entered to win a free download of this book!

First Knight

“Delilah Devlin has given us another sizzling hot read with FIRST KNIGHT… First Knight is the perfect erotic paranormal romance… I loved First Knight and it rocked my world.” ~5 Angels, Fallen Angels Reviews

“Delilah Devlin is a wonderful author and First Knight is a good example of her amazing skill with the written word… This is a tale of deep, true love with a little something extra!” ~5 Hearts, The Romance Studio

“This is a truly beautiful love story… This short story has much in it to enjoy and to actually inspire. It is a story about redemption and about finding the “silver lining” in the cloud.” ~4.25. Dr. J’s Book Place

While hiding her true identity, Maddie must seduce the mysterious Lord Garon to cement their marriage contract to ensure she won’t be returned into her lecherous stepfather’s care.

Fresh from Crusade in Palestine, Lord Garon has a secret he must hide, a hunger that must be fed, and a dark and uncertain future. Having shed himself of a fiancée he never met, he’s home to lick his wounds. The only thing he wants is a warm-blooded meal—but the new housekeeper is strangely insistent on giving him much more.

Maddie shivered at the creaks and groans the portcullis made as it slowly rose. The rain-laden wind carried the noises and filled the silences in between with a howling that sounded like the hounds from hell had arrived at the castle gate.

Shouts outside the curtain wall had alerted them only minutes before of Lord Garon d’Albermarle’s arrival. With only a bliaut over her sleeping shift, Maddie stood on the first step of the keep, holding a tray with a goblet of wine, ready to offer a proper greeting to her overlord.

“Are you sure this is the way you wish to go about this, M-Maddie?” Egbert asked, fidgeting at her side.

She swallowed against the sudden dryness in her mouth and nodded.

“It be on your head then,” he said, his always-mournful tone as dire as one of Father Ansel’s Sunday sermons. She sent thanks above that the cranky priest was away or her deception wouldn’t last past the introductions.

The clatter of dozens of hooves on the cobbled bridge beyond the gate filled the castle yard with thunder. From the encroaching darkness, the sounds were as ominous as the dark shapes looming on the gatehouse walls. The torches she’d ordered lit sputtered and flared, distorting and elongating shapes so the men riding through the entrance appeared as tall as giants.

Already tired and on edge because she hadn’t slept since a messenger had arrived, warning the castle of his lordship’s arrival days before, Maddie’s fevered imagination painted them darker and larger still.

“Be they devils?” Egbert asked, his narrow shoulders shaking. “No one travels on a night with nary a speck of light in the sky.”

“Hush!” The storm whipping at her clothing and the fatigue from months of worry over this very moment combined to make her hands shake and blackened an already foul mood.

The horsemen entered the bailey and a large figure separated from the contingent who approached the keep. As he drew closer, her fears weren’t eased one whit. The warrior sat atop a huge black destrier, forcing her to raise her gaze quite high to seek his face.

He wore a helm that left only his square jaw exposed. The darkness cast by the metal nose guard concealed his eyes. Only his mouth gave a hint of his mood—a thin, straight line with the corners crimped downward.

Under his stare, Maddie’s knees trembled but her tray never rattled. She squared her shoulders and shot a glance about her at the castle folk. “Stephen!” she called to the stable master. “See to their horses.”

In moments, boys scrambled to accept reins, and the creak of leather and the clank of iron filled the air.

The stable master himself approached the dark warhorse at the foot of the steps but the mounted warrior’s gaze never left Maddie.

She licked dry lips with an even drier tongue. “Lord Garon?” she asked, although there could be no question who led this contingent. All gazes remained on his intimidating figure. “Please come inside, milord. Your people will see to the comfort of your men.”

His mouth twisted. “And who will see to mine?”

Maddie’s heart leapt to the back of her throat. “I will, milord.”

A long pause indicated he looked her up and down. “And who might you be, madam?” he asked, his voice a deep, hollow rumble.

Maddie remembered to curtsy and then straightened, girding herself to speak the lie aloud. “Your housekeeper. I take care of things now.” The latter, at least, was the truth.

Lord Garon grunted. Without a glance at the stable master, he tossed down his reins and dismounted.

When he turned toward her, Maggie’s breath caught. Lord, he’s a tall man. I thought it was just the horse.

Maddie lifted the ornate chalice from the tray to deliver her much-rehearsed welcome.

Instead, his lordship’s lips pressed into a tighter line and he brushed past her.

She was left gasping on the bottom step. “What a rude ogre!” she exclaimed, annoyed he hadn’t fallen in line with the first step of her plan.

“Watch your tongue, madam,” an accompanying knight said tersely as he followed the lord up the steps. “He has exceptional hearing.”

“M-Maddie?” Egbert said, nodding toward the door.

She shoved the tray at his belly and grasped her skirts high to rush up the steps.

The plan had seemed so simple. All she needed was to get him alone and addle his sight with a little wine or ale so he’d not care she wasn’t the comeliest creature in the keep. Then she would seduce him.

And the sooner, the better. The longer she took losing her virginity, the greater the risk he would discover her identity. The truth was, she would rather copulate with the devil himself than be returned home.

However, this business of copulation, which had seemed a simple, messy, perhaps even enjoyable act, according to the cook, now promised to be a daunting trial.

The lord of the keep turned out to be a giant and as dour as a priest at confession. The thought of being naked with him and accepting his manstaff into her body frankly petrified her.

She rushed through the massive doors, hoping her preparations would meet with his approval. Nothing else could be allowed to mar her well-thought-out plan.

His lordship stood in the center of the hall, hands on hips. Unlike his men, he wore no chain mail, only a leather hauberk to protect his body. He’d removed his headgear, revealing hair as black as midnight and a face as hard as carved granite.

He was everything she’d remembered and more—more frightening, more imposing—and more beautiful because of the differences. Thanks be to God, he hadn’t recognized her.

His gaze narrowed on the hall and she looked around to see what might have displeased him already.

Around him servants scurried, delivering warm food to the men-at-arms as boys eagerly divested them of their armor. If she hadn’t been observing him so closely, she might not have detected the change in his posture. He scarce seemed to notice the din of activity. His mouth lost a little firmness, his hands unclenched on his hips and his chest rose and fell deeply.

In that instant, Maddie lost a measure of her fear. Here was a man savoring his first night home after a long absence. He had a heart and cared for something at least. Perhaps he wouldn’t be a complete troll when making her his wife.

Flashback: Raw Silk
Saturday, October 12th, 2013

UPDATE: The winner of the free download of Raw Silk is…Rebecca Merz!

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ShatteredSouls_FrontCvr_600Just quick commercial, and then I’ll get back to the regularly scheduled program… ;-)

Right now, Shattered Souls is available for just $.99! So if you haven’t bought the story, now’s the time! The book’s chock full of gooey goodness—a sexy, kick ass hero you’ll find just as irresistible as the heroine does…a heroine with a really bad attitude and a past she can’t escape…magic and mayhem… Get the picture?

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Flashback: Raw Silk

Post a comment and you’ll be entered to win a free download of this book!

Raw Silk

“… This is one hot book. This is my first m/f/m, m/f/m/f, f/f, and m/m all in one book! And whoa nelly, this was a smoking hot story….” 5 Stars and Top Pick, Night Owl Reviews

“…Delilah Devlin has a scorching hot read on her hands with RAW SILK…Ms. Devlin gives her readers a sexually charged romance…Ms. Devlin turned up the heat with her intense love scenes and memorable characters. I loved Raw Silk, and I would recommend this story to every reader.” 5 Angels and Recommended Read, Fallen Angels Reviews

“…The always exhilarating author Delilah Devlin knows exactly what her readers want – daring, erotic and wicked delightful stories filled with amazing characters, exciting story lines, passion and an abundance of emotions that will keep them riveted to the pages and once again she delivers the goods with RAW SILK…” 4 Hearts, The Romance Studio

A wicked, no-strings one-night stand turns unexpectedly complicated when three lonely hearts collide…

Camille sacrificed romance for success long ago. Now that the lingerie company she and her best friend built is hugely successful, she has a few regrets. Wanting to let down her hair and explore the possibilities, she agrees to meet a man at a bar for drinks only to wind up needing help when she rebuffs his sexual overtures.

Jake and Daniel are two firefighters hitting the bar for a quick drink after a long shift when they see a classy beauty fending off an overzealous boyfriend. With a flex of biceps they chase him off then settle in to seduce the lovely woman whose eyes reflect a hunger they understand all too well. What starts as a simple, pleasurable one-night stand, quickly burns up the sheets.

While Jake knows he can’t let Camille crush their relationship because of age differences, Daniel still thinks he can walk—until he gets a whiff of Camille’s best friend Lacey. Suddenly three isn’t enough.

Reader Advisory: Burning up the sheets is putting it mildly! Inhibitions are out the door with scenes of m/f/m, m/f/m/f, f/f and m/m.

Nothing was better than a lip-gloss kiss—sweet, silky, made for savoring.

Jake Lassiter picked up his beer and drew on the froth, imagining another kind of cream slipping between his lips while he stared at the woman’s shiny pout. She didn’t seem to realize anyone stared as she slicked her lips with a clear lube, tucked a stray blonde curl behind her ear and closed the mirrored compact. Or maybe she did and the performance was just a tease.

“Dayum, bro. Gotta have me some of that,” Daniel Parker murmured.

Jake shot him a glare, just to check, and sure enough, his best buddy was staring at the same honey-haired beauty.

“I call dibs.” Danny scowled, humor gleaming in his dark brown eyes.

“Can’t call dibs. I saw her first. I watched her come in the door while you were paying for the drinks.”

“Oh yeah? What color is her hair?” Jake asked, leaning toward the bar to cut off Danny’s view.

“Who gives a damn? Did you see her ass?”

Jake snorted, annoyed they were talking like two never-been-laid teenagers, but that’s what usually happened after a long week when both of them were too worn out to rub a single brain cell between them. That either had been able to lift bleary eyes past their beers said a lot for the woman’s appeal. She shone like a beacon in the badly lit bar.

“Why not let the lady make her own choice?” Danny drawled.

“Like she’d come near either one of us,” he muttered, his gaze sweeping the expensive cut of her navy suit, the sleek fall of her chin-length hair and understated makeup. She wore “class” like he did a pair of well-washed jeans—comfortably.

Still, it had been her expression that had snagged his attention. Something soft and wistful shone in her large, dark eyes. She wished she was anywhere but here. Read the rest of this entry »

Snippet Saturday: Stop Draggin’ My Heart Around
Saturday, August 24th, 2013

UPDATE: The winner of the free download is Angel M!

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I’m back at home, sitting at my own desk, after being at my dd’s for a week helping with the new baby. Miss them both, but damn, I’ve got a stack of work to catch up on!

When I read the theme for this week’s snippet, one story popped immediately into my mind. Gabe’s a cop who doesn’t want to leave a grieving wife and family behind, so he refuses to commit to a permanent relationship. Jolie is his favorite, and lately only, squeeze, and she’s tired of the fact he drops by for only one thing. She’s in love with the big lug, but isn’t about to be a doormat. She gives him an ultimatum, either they marry or he gets the hell out of her life. And she has one more trick up her sleeve.

The scene I’m showing you here never fails to make me smile. It’s one of the funniest I’ve ever written. Enjoy.

 If you post a comment today, you’ll be entered to win
a free download of this book!

 Red Stilettos: Bad, Bad Girlfriend by Delilah Devlin

“Ms. Devlin will have readers laughing one minute and screaming the next… Bad, Bad Girlfriend is a witty, heart pounding smoking hot read that is a must have.” ~5 Angels, Fall Angels Reviews

“Bad, Bad Girlfriend is just plain fun!… A great quickie from a great author.” ~5 Stars, Just Erotic Romance

“My emotions ran wild while reading Bad, Bad Girlfriend… Don’t miss this mischievous woman’s attempts to secure her man’s love. I had a fantastic time reading Jolie and Gabe’s story.” ~5 Silver Dragons, Veiled Secrets Reviews

Expect magic when one determined woman dons a legendary pair of red stilettos and bares body and heart to get her man’s attention…

Jolene’s a big, beautiful woman with an even bigger heart. But she’s become her police officer boyfriend’s favorite doormat and that’s so not working for her. It’s time for a little conversation, time to tell Mr. Happy Pants to “pee or get off the pot”.

Gabriel has seen what his profession does to marriages. He’s not willing to risk that kind of heartbreak. Besides, he likes what he has with Jolene. The woman is sex personified. So when Jolie tells him she won’t see him anymore if he’s not willing to commit, he’s shocked and angry.

With a girlfriend’s encouragement and the added confidence a certain pair of red stilettos gives her, Jolene arranges a special show at a strip club to prove to Gabe once and for all that she’s more woman than any man can handle, and if he doesn’t want the job, then she’ll find another lover who does.

Jolie heard the music, tried to catch the beat, but she’d never been so scared, so embarrassed in her life.

She knew she’d made a huge mistake the minute she’d entered the stripper’s dressing room. Lexie had ushered her in after Guppy, the skinny, bespectacled manager of the strip club, let them in the back door and showed them to the women’s dressing room. She already wore her costume under a tightly belted trench coat, but getting her first up-close look at the other women awaiting their turns on the stage made her lose her nerve.

She turned back toward the exit.

Lexie stood behind her, her arms crossed over her chest. “No you don’t. Not after I paid him a hundred dollars to let you do this!”

“You paid him?”

Lexie shrugged. “He prefers professionals, but he’s not above a bribe.” Read the rest of this entry »

Saturday Snippet: Try a Little Tenderness
Saturday, April 20th, 2013

The winner (chosen by random number generator) of the free download is commenter
Anne, congrats! Email me to arrange delivery of your prize!

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Begging for It was one of those rare opportunities when I pulled experiences directly from my military past. I guess it’s odd I don’t write more military-related experiences because writers are supposed to write what they know, and after 21 years in the Army, I know a lot. Here, I used what I remembered of my own slight PTSD issues and what I observed from others around me to give as realistic a window inside my heroine’s journey as I could. When reading this tender passage (as tender as a BDSM passage can be :)), keep in mind that the safe word Cross has given TJ to use is Fallujah.

If you post a comment today, you’ll be entered to win
a free download of this book!

Last week’s winner (see last Saturday’s Snippet for the prize) is…Tony Whitmire! Tony, congrats and email me to arrange delivery of your prize!

Begging For It

“…I absolutely loved this book… With these two dynamic characters, the emotional pull of this story was outstanding… Emotions ran the gamut and reached out to draw you in.”
~5 Stars and Top Pick!, Night Owl Reviews

“This was the most gripping, emotionally charged sexy foray into BDSM (heavy on the S&M) I’ve ever read…in the end, you’ll be so gripped by the brilliance of Ms. Devlin’s storytelling abilities, that the final pages will twist your guts in knots… I couldn’t stop thinking about them.” ~A “10″ for Story, Seriously Reviewed

“…This story is an emotional rollercoaster that will make you laugh, cry, and overheat… Devlin weaves an enthralling tale… It’s a novella that’s impossible to put down, a definite gem worth reading again and again.” ~5 Hearts, The Romance Studio

“…Delilah Devlin is at her finest with BEGGING FOR IT!… It is heartbreaking but real. Yes this is a very hot erotic novella but the story really spoke to me… BEGGING FOR IT is outrageous and perfectly delicious!” ~ Joyfully Reviewed

A story in the 1-800-DOM-help series.

She needs punishment…before she deserves pleasure.

Tragedy scarred TJ Lipton. Now, the only way she can find pleasure is when its delivered with a heavy-handed dose of S&M. But finding a lover who can give her what she needs proves an elusive quest—until she finds the sex club Unfettered and a Dom named Cross McNally.

Cross understands all too well what drives TJ. He takes command of her body to give her everything she needs—restraint, the stinging kiss of a flogger, the thrill of a three-way—a sexual adventure that pulls her beyond her painful past and has her begging for more of his tender brand of domination.

The door handle depressed without the need of a passkey. She opened it, searching the room for Cross, but stiffened when instead she found Tanner.

He was dressed in a dark tee, leather pants and cowboy boots. Had she met him in The Shamrock before she’d been with Cross, she would have been tempted. But now Cross held her hopes and dreams in his hands. Tanner was just another handsome guy with a crooked, killer smile.

“Come in, TJ,” he said in his sexy drawl. “Cross’ll be along in a moment.”

Disappointment seeped through her bones, weighing her down. She’d hoped it would just be the two of them, her and Cross. That she’d meant more to him than just as a playmate, but he’d invited his buddy along again.

“Shall I prepare you?”

TJ shook her head. “I’d rather wait for Cross.”

“I want to show you something.” He invited her deeper into the room with a lazy wave of his hand.

She blew out a breath and approached, watching his expression. If he’d smirked even once, she’d have turned on her heel and run for the door. She couldn’t take mockery, not even a gentle tease today. She was too nervous about seeing Cross again and angry with herself that it meant so much.

The last thing she wanted right now was trust in someone else’s strength when she’d finally begun to believe in her own. But she needed Cross in ways she couldn’t explain, not even to herself.

However, she walked closer, halting when she saw the ropes arranged on the floor. There was a pattern to their placement, but not one she discerned, and the ends of two of them were drawn up to curve over the tops of two pulleys in the ceiling.

She cleared the knot of tension in her throat. “This for me?” Read the rest of this entry »

Saturday Snippet: City as Setting (Contest)
Saturday, March 9th, 2013

Today’s theme is “City as Setting.” And what does that mean? Well, writers always try to paint a picture of where the story is set—enough so the reader can climb into the scene and live with the characters. Sometimes, a setting becomes a character itself, in the sense that the place has its own tone and personality. Just after Katrina hit, in the days when the city was filled with people who’d come to help put it back together, NPR and the TV news ran stories incessantly about the cleanup and what New Orleans looked like. I’d been to New Orleans several times before the storm hit, so I knew what it was like before, and it wasn’t hard for me to picture the dismal atmosphere during the months following the storm. In Silent Knight, I created a hero just as depressed and dismal as the city streets he walked—someone equally in need of rescue. Take a look…

If you post a comment today, you’ll be entered to win
a free download of this book!

Silent Knight

“…The perfect holiday read! Delilah Devlin took a Christmas tale to a whole new level when she crafted SILENT KNIGHT.” ~5 Stars, Heather, eCataRomance

“…[SILENT KNIGHT] is a sizzling hot vampire story that will take you on a short escape — the perfect read for a busy holiday season. Sexy and fun, make sure Silent Knight is on your holiday “must read” list!” ~4 Kisses, Romance Divas

“Erotically decedent and thrillingly carnal, Noelle and Magnus’ story is enough to make a person self-combust with want.” ~4 Roses, A Romance Review

In the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina, Noelle Moyaux questions her gift of sight until a chance encounter with a mysterious stranger sets her on a path to save his soul.

Magnus Thornton is a millennium-old vampire who has found evidence of an old foe’s evil at work in the demolished city of New Orleans . Weary of the fight, he decides to greet the coming dawn after a night reveling in his favorite things–a bottle of Bordeaux and a willing woman.

Noelle seems the answer, but she quickly creeps into his heart-the vampire, so jaded from life he never speaks, must now persuade Noelle to flee the city before it’s too late.

Noelle Moyaux flicked off the battery-powered Christmas lights that ringed her metal cart, folded her purple tablecloth into a small tidy square and tucked it and the folding table inside the cart before latching the lid closed.

She wheeled the cart across the busy street and waved to her friend Gerard, the owner of a small Cajun restaurant. Continuing around the back of the eatery, she stowed her palmistry kiosk in the storage unit she’d rented from Gerard since before the troubles.

Today’s earnings were slim, despite the unseasonably warm weather that allowed the thin-blooded residents of the city to roam the streets in light jackets. No one believed in a future amid the chaos—and some questioned her ability since she’d received no divination of the coming catastrophe. Indeed, Noelle questioned her gift daily as she sat beneath her umbrella in front of the embroidered cloth advertising “Noelle’s News”.

If not for the little nest egg of money she’d saved from substitute teaching before the flood, she’d be in dire straits.

Clutching her purse close to her side, she headed down the street toward home.

One last night. One last chance to lose myself in The Hunger, a fine glass of wine and the body of a willing woman. Before my last sunrise—the first I will see in nearly a thousand years…

Noelle heard the quiet, fleeting thought as she passed through the crowd ambling along Bourbon Street and spun to find the owner. The inner voice that accompanied the thought was masculine and raspy. Added to the familiar spark of connection when her skin had brushed against his was a wash of the blackest melancholy she’d ever sensed. It nearly drowned her in despair.

But whose? No one stood out among the evening crowd of construction workers, disaster-junkies and uprooted residents looking for diversion from the daily serving of desolation New Orleans had become. Was he an out-of-town contractor lonely for his home and family during the holiday? Or a N’awlins native who’d lost his friends and community to the terrible storm with the pretty name?

Whichever, she had to find him. She’d spent months second-guessing her place in the world, wondering if her gift served a higher purpose or just provided a distraction from true contribution. This brief glimpse into another’s pain seemed the answer she’d been seeking.

Filled with a renewed sense of purpose, she reminded herself God didn’t give away special gifts without expecting extraordinary sacrifice. The man was clearly demented. He believed himself a thousand years old. And he meant to end his life—with a sunrise?

Perhaps he only felt a thousand years old, so great was his sadness. And maybe she hadn’t understood the flash-burn of light and the acrid scent of singed flesh that accompanied the dour thoughts. But if someone intended to blow himself up or set himself ablaze, it was up to her to save him. He’d touched her. Now his fate belonged to her.

She walked back the way she’d come, letting her hand drift out from her side, skimming the tourists and garbage collectors, finding nothing darker than desire for the buzz of alcohol and a quick, illicit screw. Then she touched him again and instantly recognized his painful soul.

She paused, suddenly overwhelmed. Dark, erotic pictures blurring like an out-of-focus film spooled through her mind—limbs sliding sinuously apart and together, lips and fingers gliding over sweat-slick skin, powerful, full-shaft surges into warmth so tight and hot Noelle’s nipples beaded in response to the lustful images.

A finger trailed down her cheek, taking away her breath, and she blinked back into focus. He stood close. Large, black Spanish boots, polished so well they reflected lamp glow, were braced apart.

Afraid to look up, she swallowed, tempted to continue past and forget all about trying to save his soul from a terrible sin.

Then he lifted her chin, dragging up her face until their gazes clashed.

Amid the bustle, called greetings and the jazz blaring from several bars, a blanket of quiet fell around her, around him, as she stared at his stark, rugged beauty. She blinked, unable to hold his steady blue gaze and instead let hers drift over him.

Lamplight reflected against curling brown hair with glints of gold interwoven in the shoulder-length strands. His height and the breadth of his shoulders made her wonder how she’d ever missed him in the crowd. Clad in black from head to boot, he must have seemed like one big shadow. A square jaw and blunt nose emphasized the strength evident in his frame.

But those blue eyes disturbed her most. Bleak, wintery blue that pierced the space between them, drawing her closer like a fishing reel—only she was the trembling catch.

When she stood so close his breath stirred her hair, she drew a shaky breath.

His gaze dipped to her mouth, and Noelle felt the heat of his glance lick a searing path across her lips. She touched them with her tongue, half expecting to feel blisters.

His eyes narrowed, nostrils flared, and his hand slipped around her wrist.

You’ll do.

His lips hadn’t moved but she read his intent. His head dipped and she found herself incapable and unwilling of resisting while he dragged firm lips across hers.

Eyes wide open, she shivered, unable to break the spell holding her immobile. A shallow gasp broke from her lips and he deepened the intimate caress, rubbing his lips on hers, sinking strong fingers into her hair to bring her face closer still.

When he drew away, she realized they stood with bodies pressed as close as lovers, a thick-muscled thigh thrust between hers, anchoring her quivering frame. The heat of that masculine thigh pressed through her cotton skirt and she rocked her hips, rubbing on it like a cat.


Suspended on that thigh, she stood limp in his arms. “I will,” she whispered, and realized he may not have heard her. “Don’t stop.”

Not here. Where?

“Close, I’m close.” And she was. Warmth pooled between her thighs, her breasts tightened against his solid chest.

He chuckled—not a lighthearted sound, but dry and raspy as though his voice was seldom used.

His thigh slid from between hers, and he snagged her wrist again.


Swaying on her feet, Noelle fought the haze of desire that fluttered around her body and mind like a wispy curtain. How had he done that? Made her forget herself and her mission?

Then she remembered—he’d wanted a willing woman for one last night.

Despite the sensual languor he’d built, she pulled free of his hold and straightened, lifting her chin. “Not so fast, mister.”

He stood still as stone, the slight breeze lifting his hair the only motion. You followed me.

“I thought you…” Wait a minute. She stared at his lips. They hadn’t moved—and she wasn’t touching him.

Don’t think too much. I won’t harm you.

She shook her head, a frisson of fear prickling her spine.

Even without the physical connection, his voice slipped inside her mind like a stealthy wraith. You followed me. You want this too.

She shook her head again. Her gift led her to him. “I wanted to…save you.”

A mirthless smile curved his lips. Too late. I’m already damned. He stepped back and gave her a short bow. I’ll not keep you.

That old-fashioned courtesy struck her as odd. As did the sadness tightening the smile on his lips. As he turned to leave her, the quiet that had enveloped them lifted and the jarring sounds surrounded her again, disconnecting her from the compelling figure disappearing into the crowd.

Then she remembered the deep searing pain she’d felt when she’d first encountered his desolate soul. This last night she’d been placed in his path to find him. Just because the saving might require an intimate surrender to slip inside his walls, she shouldn’t be dissuaded from her mission. And she was honest enough to admit he’d stoked her curiosity as well as her libido.

“Wait!” she called out to his rapidly disappearing figure. “Don’t go!”

He halted but didn’t look back.

Slowly, her steps faltering as her heartbeats increased, she reached him and slid her palm along his. Only when his fingers curved around her hand did she take a deep breath. Enveloped again in warmth and the odd quiet, she let him lead her down the street.

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Be sure to check out the snippets on these other authors’ blogs:

Leah Braemel
Caris Roane
Eliza Gayle
McKenna Jeffries
Selena Blake
Taige Crenshaw
Felicity Heaton
HelenKay Dimon
Shiloh Walker
Lissa Matthews
Myla Jackson
Lauren Dane
Jody Wallace

Snippet Saturday: Emotion
Saturday, February 2nd, 2013

The winner, chosen by random number generator, is commenter #12—Linda!
Congratulations, Linda! Be sure to email me to arrange for delivery of your prize! ~DD

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This week’s theme is emotion. I love dread and fear—writing it, anyway. Enjoy the scene below. If you’d like to read more, be sure to click on the cover of the story. Have a great day. I’m taking a break from my writing today to go see Les Misérables with my dd. Since there’s not a theater in our small nearby town, we have to make a day of it. So, we’re going to eat Indian and take in a flick. Pure pleasure.

If you post a comment today, you’ll be entered to win
a free download of this book!

Sin's Gift

“…loved everything about SIN’S Gift…the way Delilah Devlin sets up her world makes it feel like nothing I’ve read before…” ~ 5 Angels and RECOMMENDED READ!, Fallen Angels

“…A turbulent relationship and sexy, spooky thrills await readers in SIN’S GIFT…This is a well written and engrossing tale with complex characters who have hidden depths.  Enter into other realms with the highly recommended SIN’S GIFT.” ~ Jennell, RRT Erotic

“…Wow, I loved this novella. It’s fabulously exciting and a fast, exhilarating read…I recommend this book to everyone that loves hot, sexy paranormal story. I love Delilah Devlin’s books and this is one of her best yet…” 5 Hearts, Abi, The Romance Studio
Police Officer Sinead O’Rourke returns to duty months after being shot in an incident that also claimed her partner, Danny. Despite being cleared of any negligence, Sin knows her fellow officers wonder whether she’s partially responsible for his death. One more problem is that everyone knows she claims she’s seen Danny. After months of rehabilitation and counseling, and lying like hell about the fact she’s not seeing spooks anymore, Sin’s determined to get back into the saddle. But her first day back in the patrol car, Sin sees something more horrifying than the ghost of her dead partner and enters a deadly new world. Jake doesn’t want to partner with Sin. Been there, done that—couldn’t keep his hands off her the first time around. She’s too much of a distraction and her penchant for rushing into trouble scares the hell out of him. Despite wishing she’d quit her job, he’s still deeply attracted. When an armed robbery goes down and something happens that rattles Sin to the core, he’s right there—ready to cover her back and her sweet body.

There’s no place like home.

The police substation didn’t sit at the end of the rainbow or anywhere near Kansas, but for some reason that stupid phrase ran like a mantra through Sinead O’Rourke’s head as she drew a deep breath and pushed through the double doors leading into the station house. Once inside, she kept her gaze focused straight ahead, ignoring the way conversations died away as one by one the officers on duty noticed who’d entered their midst.

So she’d been gone awhile. No doubt San Antonio’s finest whispered she looked a little different than they remembered. A few even knew she’d gone nuts for a while. But their redheaded stepchild was back.

Fuck them, anyway. Read the rest of this entry »

Saturday Snippet: Endings (Contest)
Saturday, December 22nd, 2012

Ashley A won the free download! Ashley, email me! ~DD

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Begin with the end in mind.

I’m pretty sure I learned that from some Steven Covey productivity/time management seminar back when I worked in the corporate world. And while that works for me when I set my schedule, it almost never does when I sit down to write a book. Yes, I know vaguely that at the end, boy saves girl/girl saves boy, kiss-kiss, I’ll love you forever will happen, but I don’t have the particulars concerning the ending. I like to let it happen. Endings are nearly as important as the opening of a story. A good opening ensures a reader will continue the story. A good ending ensures a reader will close the book with a sigh and a smile.

The one time I knew absolutely what would happen at the end of the story was the ending for Jacq’s Warlord. This was a story that my sister and I co-wrote. While she was working on some saggy middle dilemma, I was thinking about the ending, and it came to me as clear as day. So I wrote it before we’d even gotten to the first turning point of the story. It worked. And helped me figure out where the characters needed to go in their personal journeys to lead them to that moment.

Hope you enjoy it and that it makes you want to read the rest of the story!

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Jacq's Warlord


“…Set in the time and in the battles fought as Henry takes the English throne, the combination of battle action and sexy romance makes this story a standout.” ~ 5 Stars, Just Erotic Romance Reviews

With proportions that would make Xena weep, Jacqueline Frazier despairs of ever finding a lover she can’t intimidate. Until the day she ignores an itty-bitty warning regarding the use of a family heirloom, and finds herself swept off her feet by a knight in not so shining armor, back to the twelfth century. Forced to accept the protection and sexual attentions of the overbearing, beast of a man, Rufus of Rathburn, Jacq struggles to find her place in the past while searching for a way back to the future. In the meantime, she aids Rufus’s war cause with a little 21st century ingenuity. Nothing like shaking up the warlord with lessons in bomb-making, guerilla tactics, and the Joys of Sex.

At first unwilling, and downright ungrateful, Rufus begins to see merit in Jacq’s odd ways. Through Jacq’s eccentricities and wilfulness, Rufus learns she is a woman to be reckoned with, not to mention she is a lusty handful in bed. Will his admiration of her cunning, strength and uninhibited sexuality grow into a love that breaks the barriers of time? And will their love be strong enough for Jacq to plot a different future in the past?

The day couldn’t have been more perfect for a wedding. What better way to celebrate than with the sun rising in a clear blue sky? Jacq knew she would never take sunshine for granted in merry Old England.

Preparations for the wedding had been underway since well before dawn. Everyone had conspired to let Jacq sleep late. As if she could.

She had woken with the first rays of sunlight spilling through the windows. Dust motes, gilded by the rays, danced in the faint breeze. Jacq had promised herself she wouldn’t think about chores. Especially not today.

Jacq hugged herself and spun around in her nightshift as giddy as a schoolgirl attending her first dance. She was about to marry the most gloriously imperfect man. Her protector, the conqueror of her heart. Her one regret was her father wouldn’t be there to share her happiness.

But today, she would shed no tears. She hoped he’d received her message and that he understood her choice. Her father had prepared her all her life for this adventure, now was the time for her to make him proud.

She stood before a polished silver mirror Enid had produced. She was still too tall and her features were still too strong to ever be considered beautiful. But now, instead of gawky angularity, she noted the softness to her features. Her love for her husband-to-be, for the child growing in her womb and for the new family of friends surrounding her, gave her a feeling of serenity and acceptance.

She smoothed the skirt of the russet silk dress—another of Enid’s miracles—with her hands, and pulled at the cream-colored lace at the points of her sleeves until it fell in graceful folds. The people of Rathburn would find no fault in her appearance today. She was well suited in stature and temperament to be the bride of the Lord of Rathburn.

Jacq left her black hair loose to fall in a cascade of curls down her back. Rufus preferred it that way. Then she lifted a crown of thornless white rosebuds with their shiny green leaves intertwined to place on top of her head.

Annie had delivered the fragrant crown to her room earlier. For once, the child was clean and someone had brushed her long hair, uncovering that surprising hint of gold in her tresses. Her excitement had shone in her eyes as she reverently passed the arrangement to Jacq. The gift was from Rufus, she’d said, and the men had teased him ruthlessly while he’d cursed at every prick of thorns he suffered as he prepared her gift.

Jacq’s eyes misted.

Rufus was learning some softness too.

A knock at the door told her it was time to go. Donald’s broad shoulders filled the doorway. He gave her a long look, and then grinned. “Rufus is luckier than he deserves, milady. You’re bloody beautiful.”

Jacq didn’t bother to correct him—she felt “bloody” beautiful. She followed Annie and Donald down the long staircase and out the doors of the keep, and was blinded for a moment by the brightness of the sunlight.

A loud cheer rose from around her, startling her. Once her eyes adjusted to the brightness, she saw all the people she had come to love spilling out into the bailey.

From the center of the crowd, Rufus strode forward with a ferocious frown on his face.

Her heart lightened in response.

She understood he was just as impatient for the wedding to be over as she was. The ruddy color in his cheeks told her he liked what he saw every bit as much as she was pleased with his appearance. The plush green surcoat, pulled taut across his massive shoulders, complemented the brown leggings he wore beneath.

Her hands itched to test the strength she knew rippled in the muscles there. She still couldn’t believe she would have the right to explore this mountain of a man for the rest of their lives.

As he drew near, he circled an arm around her and pulled her close for a kiss. His lips and tongue danced teasingly over hers to the delight of the boisterous crowd. He drew away, still frowning ferociously. “Damnation, Jacq, did you have to be so beautiful today? We’ve hours before I can admire you properly.”

With a saucy grin, she held out her hand to him. “Then why are you wasting daylight?”


Rufus grasped her fingers and proceeded to drag her to the church to end his misery. But Jacq dug her feet into the earth, bringing them both to a halt.

When he turned back to see what was the matter, his heart skittered to a stop.

Jacq’s face was pale and she stared at something over his shoulder. With his hand on his sword, he spun to defend the woman he loved above life itself.

Beyond the gates of the keep, a roiling cloud of mist swept up to the entrance, then halted. Sunlight glinted on the droplets of moisture and splintered into the many colors of a rainbow. From the center of the cloud a figure strode forward.

He heard Jacq’s ragged sob a moment before she tore her hand from his and ran for the gate. The man, older than Jacq, but unmistakably related by the looks of him, dropped the many bags he carried and swept Jacq into his arms. They twirled in a circle, both of them laughing giddily.

Rufus allowed Jacq her moment of joy in greeting her father, then walked over to join them.

They had a wedding to finish and the wedding night to begin.

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