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Lynda Bailey: A storyteller, a writer and an author walk into a bar… (Contest)
Monday, August 1st, 2016

UPDATE: The winner is…Mia McKimmy!

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A storyteller, a writer and an author walk into a bar…

…and the punch line is—they’re three different people.

Say whhhhat??? Isn’t a storyteller a writer, and isn’t a writer an author? To my way of thinking, no.

You see, I’m a born storyteller. I love weaving tales about pretty much anything. Ask me about our fabulous house, and I won’t give you the boilerplate rendition of how hubby and I got the best house ever. No. I’ll tell you the story of how we had the longest short sale in history (17 months!), how we looked at countless other houses, but couldn’t imagine any other than the one we got, how our realtor was an angel of mercy, how I got the news we’d be closing on our new house the day after my back surgery…. In other words, a story.

As a storyteller, I sometimes find the actual act of writing beyond frustrating. I know the story, but putting it on paper can be quite challenging for me. There’s no writing a scene three-quarters of the way through the manuscript then jumping to the beginning then the Black Moment. I have to start at the beginning, move to the middle, then the end. And heaven help me if I’m 40k words in only to realize I made a plot boo-boo in chapter three. I can’t simply make a note and move on. Oh, no… It’s back to where I made the fatal mistake, fix it, THEN move on.

A writer, on the other hand (and IMHO), undoubtedly has the discipline to put their butt in a chair and write every day. I believe the folks who pen those books about how to write 10,000 words a day are writers. I can’t image getting 10,000 words written in a day. I’m lucky to get that kind of word count in a month—hell, in two months.

Writers can also quite probably write about almost anything—they can follow the *trends* in the industry. Regency England midget vampires—got it! Teen-aged werewolf bikers—got that, too! My storyteller isn’t nearly so…flexible. A story gets stuck in my head, and I’m sorry, but that’s…the…story…period. Nothing else happens until THAT story is done. (It’s like have a bulldog for a muse…*sigh*)

And what of the *author* you ask? For me, an author is someone who most likely makes BIG BUCKS with his/her writing. So while it’s safe to assume they’re a writer, they may not be a storyteller. Allow me to explain with a well-known example I shall not name. And please, no hate mail if you know who I’m talking about. I sincerely congratulate the author on all her awesome success… However, I take strong issue with her *storytelling* abilities. Case in point—and again in my most humble opinion—there’s no story between the hero and heroine. A lot of sex, yes, but no story. What’s her GMC (goal, motivation and conflict)? What does she want? Why does she want it? What’s keeping her from getting what she wants? After reading the first book in the trilogy, I couldn’t answer those three questions—questions that should be answered after the first chapter. If the main character’s GMC isn’t defined, there’s no structure for the plot. And without a plot, there can’t be a story.

Now, can a storyteller be a writer and also an author, even by my definition? You betchum! I’m sure there are countless storytelling writers who make serious bank with their stories. Unfortunately, I am not one. As an innate storyteller, I must force myself (everyday!) to be a writer. And while I make some money with my books, it’s not what I consider author money or even moderate author money. But despite the many and varied obstacles in my way, I plan keep doing what I love—and that’s telling stories. <grin>

I want to give a huge THANK YOU to the FABulous Delilah Devlin for hosting me today!


Leave a comment for the chance to win one of the following titles:

Battle-Born Love
Battle-Tested Love
Erotic Escapades of a Married Couple
Naughty Neighborhood
On the Corner of Heartache and Hopeful – MIC
On the Corner of Heartache and Hopeful – KIRA
On the Corner of Heartache and Hopeful – GRACE
Shattered Trust


lbOn A Knifes Edge_800px

Please enjoy the following excerpt from my newest release, On a Knife’s Edge – rated R.

Lynch broke the kiss and grasped the pull tab of the sweatshirt zipper. With purposefully slowness, he lowered it. He bore his gaze into hers, giving Shasta the chance to stop him. She just stared at him with eyes so huge, so round, he thought he’d die within their brown depths.

Once the jacket hung open, he flicked it off her shoulders then skimmed the t-shirt up her torso. She lifted her arms and he pulled the shirt over her head.

He snagged her wrists. “Keep ‘em up, kay?”

Her delicate throat muscles labored as she nodded.

He ghosted his palms over her sports bra then wormed his fingers under the bottom. Still holding her gaze, he tugged it up. She licked her lips and her arms quivered slightly, but didn’t lower. Within seconds, her breasts were bared. He devoured them with his gaze.

They were flawless. The perfect size with two perfectly pearled nipples.

He outlined one areola with his finger. Her body trembled. He shifted her position so she laid prone on the seat, her feet near the handlebars and her head resting on the passenger cushion.

He kissed her again. His balls ached and his cock pounded at twice his heart rate. His hand molded around one breast. The satiny feel sent another shaft of hunger through his blood.

He kissed her eyes closed before nipping his way to her ticklish earlobe. Goose bumps erupted across her skin and her body arched toward him. His mouth journeyed down her delectable flesh to lick the velvet hollow of her neck, then down farther to a rigid nipple. Her body went completely still—almost like she’d stopped breathing—as his lips closed over the puckered crest.

Lynch stroked his tongue over the peak while his hand skimmed across her flat belly to the snug waistband of her jogging shorts.

Shasta braced her heels on the handlebars and elevated her hips. Lynch pulled while she wiggled. At last, he peeled the offending garment off one leg then the other, along with her running shoes. He replaced her socked feet to the outside edge of the handgrips.

Air back up in his chest as he feasted on her spread before him in all her naked glory. Her skin held a slight rosy hue and her earthy, sexy scent filled his senses. Her nest of pussy hair tightened the knot in his belly. He never dreamed he’d see her like this again.

He again gently gripped her wrists and placed her hands on the passenger seat. “You best hold on, Shaly,” he croaked.


Where you can find Lynda:
Facebook Author Page:
Amazon Author Page:

Elizabeth Andrews: Romantic Gifts & Presents for You! (Contest)
Thursday, July 28th, 2016

UPDATE: The winner is…flchen1!

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Hi!  Before I get started, I want to thank Delilah for being so generous with her blog space.  I always have a good time when I come to visit here, and I appreciate that Delilah lets me.

So it’s my birthday month, and more specifically, my birthday week.  I remember as a kid how much I looked forward to my birthday–it was about halfway through the year from the other big kid present holiday, Christmas.  Each one seemed so far away from the other when I was a kid.  Do you remember, too?  I always thought it would be worse, though, to have my birthday too close to Christmas and then have to wait even longer for gifts.  Funnier, though, when I think about it as an adult, is that gifts when I was a kid were a lot of useful things and a few fun things, plus the dinner of our choice and whatever kind of cake we wanted (my mom was a really great baker).  I had a lot of siblings, so huge wish lists weren’t the norm in our house.  And we were okay with that.

Even when I got older, birthdays were more about the cake than the gifts.  I’m still a huge fan of the birthday cake, actually.  Something decadent and delicious, with icing.  There has to be icing, or there’s no point in the cake, unless it’s cheesecake, and then it still needs something–fruit sauce, or chocolate, or something.

I haven’t written a character yet whose birthday happens during the course of their book, until now.  I’m working on a shifter story, and the heroine has a birthday and Christmas during their story, and neither of those has ever been a big deal in her life up until this point.  Seeing things through her eyes that I’ve taken for granted is kind of eye-opening, and a little sad for her.  The hero does some very romantic things for her, too, which makes the whole thing even better.

But there is still something to be said for a good birthday gift from someone special, whether it sparkles, or maybe it’s just a good dinner at your favorite restaurant.  So I wondered what some of your favorite romantic birthday gifts have been.  From your spouse, or maybe a previous significant other, I want to know.  Everybody who shares in the comments below by noon EST on Sunday, July 31, 2016 will be entered into a giveaway drawing (via–I have a box full of books, including a signed copy of Hunting Medusa.  I can’t wait to hear these!

Hunting Medusa


Hunting Medusa

The Medusa Trilogy, Book 1

Ever since the original Medusa ticked off Athena, her cursed daughters have been paying for that mistake. To this day, successive Medusas play cat and mouse with the Harvesters.

When Kallan Tassos tracks down the current Medusa, he expects to find a monster. Instead he finds a wary, beautiful woman, shielded by a complicated web of spells that foils his plans for a quick kill and retrieval of her protective amulet.

Andrea Rosakis expects the handsome Harvester to go for the kill. Instead, his attempt to take the amulet imprinted on her skin without harming her takes her completely by surprise. And ends with the two of them in a magical bind—together.

Though their attraction is combustible, her impending PMS (Pre Magical-Curse Syndrome) puts a real damper on any chance of a relationship. But Kallan isn’t the only Harvester tracking Andi, and they must cooperate to stay one step ahead of a ruthless killer before they can have any future, together or apart.

Get your copy here!

About the Author

Elizabeth Andrews has been a book lover since she was old enough to read. She read her copies of Little Women and the Little House series so many times, the books fell apart. As an adult, her book habit continues. She has a room overflowing with her collection, and still more spreading into other rooms.  Almost as long as she’s been reading great stories, she’s been attempting to write her own.  Thanks to a fifth grade teacher who started the class on creative writing, Elizabeth went from writing creative sentences to short stories and eventually full-length novels. Her father saved her poor, callused fingers from permanent damage when he brought home a used typewriter for her.

Elizabeth found her mother’s stash of romance novels as a teenager, and–though she loves horror–romance became her very favorite genre, making writing romances a natural progression. There are more than just a few manuscripts, however, tucked away in a filing cabinet that will never see the light of day.

Along with her enormous book stash, Elizabeth lives with her husband of more than twenty years and two young adult sons, though no one else in the house reads nearly as much as she does. When she’s not at work or buried in books or writing, there is a garden outside full of herbs, flowers and vegetables that requires occasional attention.

Lindsay McKenna: Secret Dream
Monday, July 25th, 2016

Hi Readers!

At last!!!  I put out the first four books of the Delos series, and later, wrote sequels to each one of them.  The first of those sequels, Secret Dream, is following Cav and Lia from Nowhere to Hide, Book 1.  I’ll be rolling out three more, one a month!  I’m excited to hear from you as to whether you like having a sequel after the “big” book. So do let me know! Below is an excerpt from SECRET DREAM.  Enjoy!

Secret Dream


Sequel novella to Nowhere to Hide, Book 1, Delos series
Publishing date: 7.25.16
Ebook, paperback and audio

Ex-Navy SEAL Cav Jordan faces danger daily in his job as a security expert. He even faced down a gang of South American drug dealers to protect his fiancée, Lia Cassidy. So why is he terrified of meeting her parents? Having lived through his own horrible childhood Cav can’t understand the situation is he is walking into. Lia just wants him to meet her parents. Why does this feel like the fight of his life?Secret Dream by Lindsay McKenna

“Steve Cassidy. Welcome, Mr. Jordan.  We owe you a lot.”  He gripped Cav’s hand, and choked out, “You saved Lia’s life.  Thank you…”

For a moment, Cav was stunned by the sudden kindness emanating from the farmer’s expression who was thin, wiry, sunburned and physically sinewy from the daily work he did.  Gripping the farmer’s calloused roughened hand, he said, “Nice to meet you, sir.  And I was just doing my job.  Call me  Cav?”

“Call me Steve.”  He clapped him heartily on the back, still clasping his other hand.  “And you’re a hero to us, son. Nothing less.”  Steve released him, keeping his hand on Cav’s broad shoulder, watching Lia clinging to he mother, both of them in a tight, loving embrace with one another.

Embarrassed by such a show of emotions, Cav murmured, “Thank you, sir.”

Steve gave him an assessing look.  “Just Steve will do.”

“Yes, sir….I mean, okay,” Cav stumbled.  It was very different meeting people who were strangers, but this was Lia’s parents and he didn’t want to fuck this up for her.  Awkwardly, he stood there, watching tears roll down Susan’s face.  He wasn’t sure that Lia wasn’t crying too, such was the tight bond they shared.  Obliquely, his mind leaped backward.  Cav remembered the times his mother had cried.  But they were tears of pain.  Tears mingled with blood from her nose, a split lip or both after his father got done beating her up.  How many times had Cav cried alone in his room wishing she would run away with him from his monster father?

Steve clapped him on the shoulder.  “Let’s us guys go find your luggage, huh?” and he smiled a little.

Good idea!  “Yes, sir—“

Steve laughed and patted him warmly on the back.   “You’re staying a week with us, Cav.  I’ll work that military side out of you by then.  Come on, let’s hunt up that luggage you and our Lia, eh?”

There was a male gruffness mingled with warmth to Steve that made Cav want to open up to the man.  He had a deeply weathered face, his blue eyes the same color as Lia’s.  The woman he loved had her mother’s same color of hair, her father’s sparkling, mischievous looking eyes and her smile.  There was benevolence to Steve Cassidy, and Cav automatically found himself wanting to be close to this man who exuded a male gentleness he rarely found in any man.  “Thanks for coming to pick us up,” Cav said, noting that the baggage from their flight would be spit out by Carousel Two.

“We’ve been looking forward to seeing you two,” Steve said, standing with his hands on his hips, watching the luggage starting to be dropped off the conveyor belt.  “Did you have a good flight?”

“Yes.  It was quiet. That’s all I ask.”

“We don’t travel much,” he said.  “With a farm, you can’t walk away from it, so I’m glad you came for a visit.”

Cav felt Steve’s genuine sincerity.  He hooked a look over his shoulder, seeing Lia and her mother talking animatedly with one another as they walked toward them.  Susan had given Lia her smile and her beauty, no question.  He liked that the mother had hooked her arm around Lia’s waist and they walked closely, their affection for everyone to see.  He knew Lia’s affection himself and already, he could see how happy she was at being home with her parents once more.  They breathed even more life into her, if that was possible.  Compared to the ghost of a person she was in Costa Rica months earlier, Cav was stunned at Lia’s natural radiance.  She was sunshine to his darkened soul who craved her.

“Uh oh,” Steve murmured, grinning as he turned.  “I’m about to get attacked.”

For a moment, the word put Cav on instant guard. But as he turned, he saw Steve opening his arms as Lia flew into them, her arms wide open, joy radiant on her face as she clung to her father.  A lump formed in his throat as he watched Lia being swallowed up by the big man who kissed her hair, kissed that cheek that had that deep scar on it, his eyes only for his beaming daughter in his arms.  His gaze flicked to Susan, who stood a few feet away, teary eyed, smiling, her lower lip trembling as she watched Lia with her doting father.  It hurt to swallow and Cav turned away, remembering too much of the twisted and distorted family he’d somehow managed to survive.  He’d never known a moment of affection from his father.  Only his fist.  His hatred.  His anger always aimed at him.

Mardi Ballou: Sensuous Writing for Beginners
Sunday, July 24th, 2016

mbteachhimtonightbox-300MedWhat are the essentials for writing? A laptop (or other electronics), somewhere to park the butt (except for those who write while operating a treadmill), and chocolate are the minimum daily requirements. Is there anyone out there who doesn’t look to chocolate as part of the creative process? Indulging in this basic is part of what I view as Writing—the Sensuous Art. After all, how can we create the sensuous stories of lovers in pursuit of romance if our own senses, as writers, are deprived?

Taste is not the only sense that needs attention. We can’t be too hot or cold, we need to deal with the clutter or learn to be oblivious to it, and it’s hard to write in a place that doesn’t smell good. As writers, we need to pay attention to all our own senses just as we do the characters’.

Recently, I’ve gone beyond chocolate (and wine after I reach the day’s word count goal). Specifically, I now listen to the music that my heroes and heroines would. This is a switch from the music I listened to for years as my background for writing—Scheherazade by Rimsky-Korsakov. Had to be the Fritz Reiner version. Whenever I heard the opening chords of Scheherazade, I’d react like Pavlov’s dog to its stimulation, and begin working. I figured Scheherazade was a great choice, given the story-telling challenges of that young woman in the Arabian Nights.

mbEGEsmcrSwitching soundtracks so that I now listen to my characters’ music was an adjustment. I’ve lost the automatic Pavlovian response, but I’ve gained a deeper insight into the world I’m creating. Right now I’m working on a medieval and have found that I love the music of that era. Listening is almost as delicious as dipping into the chocolate and keeps me smiling as I write.


Sharon Hamilton: Getting the Deets right, or not!
Friday, July 22nd, 2016

shSharonHamilton_Alex_HRJust came back from a convention and had the opportunity to hang around some of my great military writer friends, some of whom also write Navy SEAL romances. First, let me start by saying that writing romance is writing fiction. These stories need to have enough truth in them to be believable, but they are all made up stories, at least mine are.

One of the things buzzing around was a question of Navy SEAL medics, and whether or not they were actually SEALs. There was a former SEAL who served in the 1960’s who said they were not. A whole room full of people I’m sure took notes.

The truth is, and I corrected him privately, the SEALs are changing every year, every few months. What was “gospel” at one time is no longer valid now. So when the discussions come up about what’s accurate and what’s not, it depends on your point of view as far as dates of service, and it also depends on the story. Publishers can get misinformation and their editors can actually question certain truths they have been mislead by. I heard examples of it this weekend.

But the fact remains, Navy SEAL medics today are deployed to all 10 SEAL Teams. They are also trained in all the other specialties, so that if one falls, another can take up the post. Marcus Luttrell was one, tells about it in his book, Lone Survivor. In the Vietnam era, when the SEALs were new, they lacked medics to help these guys because they were losing them on the field before they could get to the hospital. Many were retired as “SEALs” but never went through the BUD/s training.

Now it is different. But books written years ago, might reflect the old “rules” if I can say that.

So, if someone starts blogging or speaking about certain things not being factual or accurate in a writer’s SEAL story, just walk away. There are much more productive ways to determine if a writer is your favorite. We all do the best we can. Movies get it wrong. TV gets it wrong every day. Publishers get it wrong. Editors get it wrong. Writers get it wrong. But this is fiction.

About Sharon Hamilton

Smiling Sharon in RedSharon Hamilton is a NYT and USA/Today bestselling author most known for her SEAL Brotherhood series.

A lifelong organic gardener, Sharon lives with her husband in the Wine Country of Northern California, where most of her stories take place. When she’s not writing, she’s getting verra verra dirty in the mud, or wandering Farmer’s Markets looking for new Heirloom varieties of vegetables and flowers.

Her latest release is Band of Bachelors: Alex.

Paige Tyler: Strong Silent SEAL
Monday, July 18th, 2016

I’m so excited to share my newest release with you, STRONG SILENT SEAL, Book 2 in my SEALs of Coronado Series!

ptStrong Silent SEAL Teaser 1

The hero is Navy SEAL Logan Dunn, a hunk who has a body worthy of a Greek god despite his love of junk food. He’s not necessarily looking for a relationship, but when he meets wedding planner Felicia Bradford, he considers changing his mind despite the fact she’s holding him at gunpoint!

ptStrong Silent SEAL gold

He does what any Navy SEAL would do—he saves the girl and takes out the bad guys.

Wedding planner Felicia Bradford is in trouble. Mercenaries are holding her sister hostage and threatening to kill her unless Felicia helps them steal top secret information from the Navy’s Special Operations Headquarters. Having no other way to access the base, she pulls a gun on the first man in a Navy uniform she finds, demanding he get her through the gate.

Navy SEAL Logan Dunn just got back from a mission in Syria and is looking for a little down time to relax. That plan goes out the window when a beautiful woman shoves a gun in his back and begs him to do something he can tell she clearly doesn’t want to do. Logan does what any Navy SEAL would do in the same situation—he saves the girl and takes out the bad guys.

But their actions that day kick off a crazy chain of events, including a fast-burning whirlwind romance, an out-of-control sister, an insane covert plot involving a defecting Russian pilot, a mercenary bent on revenge, and a sunrise wedding for a bride who never wakes up before noon.

Getting through her sister’s kidnapping will look like a piece of cake compared to what comes next.






All Romance eBooks 


M. L. Doyle: Limited Partnerships
Friday, July 15th, 2016

Thanks for allowing me a chance to be a guest blogger, Delilah! It gives me an opportunity to gush a bit about how much I love summer!

It’s almost a hundred degrees where I live, which means things are hot and not in a good way. What is it about the hot weather that makes me want to move as little as possible, pick up a book and sink into something sexy and stimulating?

As a kid, summer meant no school which also meant more time to read. My mother and I used to swap books all summer long, passing mysteries, horror stories, literature and fantasies back and forth, recommending what to read and what to avoid. I knew any book she enjoyed, I would probably enjoy too.

She’d often close a book having just finished it, then drop it in my lap. “A good one,” she’d say.

“What’s it about?”

“Just read it.”

And I would.

We’d traded all of Jane Austin’s novels and loads of British gothic romance. We even read Peyton Place by Grace Metalious. I think we started to stray apart, as far as romance was concerned, after we read Valley of the Dolls by Jacqueline Susann. I became completely hooked on Susann’s books, gobbling them up as soon as they hit the shelves, but my mom grew tired of them, or at least she never admitted to me that she waited breathlessly for the next one to hit the library.

It amuses me now to remember all of the bodice rippers I read. The first might have been a Kathleen E. Woodiwiss novel, like The Flame and the Flower or Ashes in the Wind. I don’t remember which, but after I read one, I was off to the races.

I added romance to my list of genres I loved without really sharing my new love with my Mom. I still read mystery and horror and fantasy. Hell, a good book is a good book, but romance became my guilty pleasure—one I, unfortunately, didn’t share with her, or at least, not that she would admit to anyway.

Now, each time I publish a new book, I can’t help but wish my mother were around to read it. She passed a couple of years before my first co-authored memoir was published. I know she would have enjoyed my mysteries and even the urban fantasy I’ve published since she always loved a strong female lead. But I have to wonder how she would feel about the romance.

My Limited Partnerships series is a long way from the tame Jane Austin stories or even the Kathleen E. Woodiwiss bodice rippers, but maybe my mother’s tastes would have … matured the way mine have. I will never know for sure. I can only hope she would have read it, then closed it and said, “It’s a good one.”


mdLP-OMNI-ebook over-no-bleeds


Limited Partnerships – Omnibus, by M. L. Doyle

When a woman calls on Limited Partnerships, she expects to be in control. Some end up getting far more than they bargained for.

“The modern woman makes more money and is more powerful than ever before. They don’t always have the time to date, to do what it takes to maintain a relationship, but they still want and need company. And let’s face it. They need sex. Sex with someone who can make them feel desired above all others.” – Beth, owner and proprietor of Limited Partnerships.

The Limited Partnerships Omnibus—four novellas featuring Beth’s most desirable employees.

Limited Partnerships – Charlie,

Limited Partnerships – Wolf,

Limited Partnerships – Luke and

Limited Partnerships – Derek. Or get all four in the Omnibus edition.

About the Author

mdMary's Author photosm croppedM. L. Doyle aimed to prove her brother wrong when she joined the Army on his dare. Almost two decades later, she not only confirmed that she could, contrary to his warning, make it through basic training, her combat boots took her to the butt-end of nowhere and back countless times and she lived to tell about it … or write about it as it turned out.

Unafraid of genre jumping, Mary has co-authored two memoirs, a three-book mystery series, a four-novella erotic romance series, and has just published the first book in a planned urban fantasy series.

A native Minnesotan, Mary lives in Baltimore where her evil cats force her to feed and care for them including cleaning up their poo. To escape from her torture, Mary loves to hear from readers. Checkout her website where you can read excerpts of all of her work.