Well, as I mentioned, the major accomplishment was finishing Beloved Captor (tentative title). I still have a friend reading through the book to make sure it holds together. I hope she likes it. Deadline for turn-in is Friday.

I’m doing one last read through and trying to do it slowly. Read a chapter, walk away. So that I keep sharp to errors and really look for better ways to phrase things.

This week the goals are to complete the revisions AND complete the Lone Star Lovers story. It’s a short novella. I shouldn’t have too many problems with it.

Book I bought this week?
Screw the Roses, Send Me the Thorns: The Romance and Sexual Sorcery of Sadomasochism by Philiip Miller

Music I bought this week? (Not all headbangy stuff this week. Was in a blue mood, I guess, which was why I didn’t accomplish all that much.)
Lie by David Cook
Click Click Boom by Saliva (more my usual thing)
Bombshell by Powerman 5000
Maybe by Ingrid Michaelson
Single Ladies by Beyonce (my only Beyonce title on my iPod—the 5-year-old likes to do the dance, so it makes me smile)
Milkshake by Kelis (yeah, I know)
Apologize by One Republic
Beautiful Disaster by Jon McLaughlin
Telelphone by Lady GaGa and Beyonce
Paparazzi by Lady GaGa (5-year-old’s influence again)

Just got home a little while ago. Stayed at daughter’s because we got back from the concert so late. Woke up at 6:00 with the 5-year-old poking me to ask, “Hey, Nina, you awake?” Have some catchup to do (my desk is a mess) and a book to finish revising, but I have some pics—not very good ones, as you can see from this. But I’ll share more later!

In the meantime, here’s one of my favorite scenes from a book I’ve written. It’s from The Pleasure Bot, which released in June 2004. Romantic Time Magazine gave it a TOP PICK and said this about the story: “…Hot sex, sidesplitting humor and an out-of-this-world story set this erotica apart from the rest!”

This scene happens after Priss rented a pleasure bot for a weekend of hot sex, but fell in love with it. Now’s she’s desperate to save him from being turned in and having his memory wiped clean of their relationship. This scene picks up with Declan, who pretended to be her bot because he’s a pirate on the run from authorities. He’s rejoined his band of pirates and is heading back to his ship. Agnes is Priss’s AI computer, who’s meddling to make sure Priss gets what she needs…

“You haven’t said a word, since we picked you up.” Reiver executed a left turn onto the main thoroughfare; the next exit would take them to the docks.

“I’m just tired,” Declan said, staring out the window watching the dusty brown landscape rush past. He’d never noticed how dingy the air was in South Texas. Not a healthy place for Priss to raise a family.

“Not curious how we found the cargo Customs lifted from our hold?” Reiver asked.

“Sure.” Declan decided to try to get back into the swing of things and not look back. He could make himself crazy with regrets. He sighed and turned to his First Mate.

Reiver hadn’t been changed a jot by his adventure. The bloody sod was smiling!

“It’s quite a story. Your friend Agnes told us where the warehouse was—just so happens it belongs to McEwen.”

Declan grunted. He didn’t give a damn about that bastard McEwen or any stinking cargo. He’d just left his heart behind him in La Barria Prima with a certain little redhead who thought she was a lioness. Oh, she roared like one, even purred sometimes, but underneath she was soft and vulnerable as a kitten.

“—and little green Arkanthans were guarding the crates.”

“Huh?” Declan only caught the last of what Reiver said. Then he heard the men seated behind them snickering. He leveled a glare over his shoulder. “Unless you want to swab the upper deck, you’d better shut your yaps.” He rounded on Reiver, “What’s this you said about Arkanthans?”

Reiver didn’t reply. His gaze was on the rearview mirror. By the worried look in his eyes, Declan could tell he didn’t like what he saw.

He glanced over his shoulder, down the center aisle of their stolen hovervan. “We’ve got a tail. Lose it!” Declan said, feeling the welcome rush of adrenaline pump through his veins. If they wanted a fight…

“Captain, do Customs agents drive pink hovercars?” Nate asked.

“I think it’s more of a mauve,” Danny said.

Declan turned back again, just in time to see the car pass them at a high rate of speed—just long enough to catch a glimpse of a small white face above the steering wheel and a cap of red curls. “That little idiot! Is she trying to get herself killed?”

Priscilla pulled her car into the lane in front of them and her rear lights flashed red.

“Hit the brakes,” he bellowed.

The cars had barely skidded to a halt when he flung the door upward.

“I take it you know this person?” Reiver asked, laughter in his voice.

Declan stuck his head back inside. “Not one bloody word out of you.” When smothered laughter rang in the back of the van, he cast them a glare that should have singed.

As he stomped to Priscilla’s car, he heard Reiver say, “Guess we know what has him so grumpy.”

Declan reached the car, just as she lifted her door. “Oh, thank God, I found you in time!” She hurled herself into his arms and Declan took a step back to absorb the impact. “I thought I might be too late.” She hugged him hard around the middle, but never stopped her nervous babble. “First, I couldn’t find the right suitcase, then I didn’t know what to pack.” She pushed herself away from his chest, and her hands cupped his face. “I thought I might never see you again.”

For a moment, Declan’s heart was fiercely glad to see her. But then he realized what she’d just said. He pushed her away. “You’re not coming with me,” he shouted.

“No, I’m not.” She smiled, not caring his frown would make most men run for cover. “You’re coming with me. We’re escaping. Agnes has it all arranged. I even have a ship. She’s not the latest model of cruiser or very elegant, but she’s sturdy. You’ll love her!”

“You bought a ship?”

“No, silly! We’re stealing one.”

“We’re stealing a ship?” he parroted, dumbfounded by her audacity.

She looked beyond his shoulder, and her eyes widened. “Oh my God! There’s a whole vanload of Pleasure Bots!”

Read another excerpt…

If you took the “Write 50 Books a Year” workshop, which I teach for free every August, this will be really familiar! I do something like this at the start of every workshop for a very good reason! Putting your dreams down on paper sets an internal switch in your brain called the RAS (Reticular Activating System—the part of the brain that controls awareness/arousal). The way this works is you write down your goals, and then you read them aloud. You don’t even have to believe they’re going to happen, but your brain hears the words and resets its expectations. Magic happens.

You’ve probably heard that children will live down to their parent’s lowest expectations—that’s based on what they’ve heard their parents say about them. Sad to say, if they’d heard encouragement, their brain would have been “trained” to achieve greater things.

Define Your Goals

1) The Big Bang

This is the time to dream big. Imagine what you want to have accomplished after five years of dedicated effort. Write your back cover biography!

Here’s mine:

Delilah Devlin, author of oodles of erotic romances featuring hot gratuitous sex, spends her winters in southern France with her Argentinean polo player, and spends her summers in Alaska with her not-so-Gentle-Ben backwoodsman. A regular on the New York Times Bestseller List and the Howard Stern show, she is writing an adaptation of her My Immortal Knights series for a new Playgirl channel series with celebrated screenwriter Elle James.

Okay, so I had a bit of fun with mine. Got yours done? Now print it and tape it to the wall above your computer. Read it aloud to yourself. Try to make this your daily mantra as you sit down to write. Don’t underestimate the power of “setting” your brain’s internal switch to achieve your big dream.

2) Imagine what you have to accomplish to reach that Big Bang goal—then pare it down to your wish list of what you want to accomplish over the next year. For me, it’s writing the best books I can, having a terrific time doing it (because positive energy generates positive results!!), and doing a lot of it. But when I list incremental goals, it looks something like this:

#1 Write 2 single title books this year
#2 Prepare 4 new proposals this year
#3 Write 3 category/novella length novels for Ellora’s Cave
#4 Write 3 category/novella length novels for Samhain
#5 Write 4 short stories for Cleis collections

Don’t freak when you see this list. I always start with stars in my eyes and have to ratchet down my expectations once reality (and the real planning) begins. But this is what I wish I could accomplish over the next year.

So, it’s your turn to write your bio and your To Do list!

Oh yeah—I now have the little black dragon with the long tail. So it’s two dragons down! ~DD

I wrapped up the last pages of Beloved Captor yesterday. 390 pages and a hair shy of 85,000 words. I have friends reading through it right now to see if they can pick out any problems I refused to see. Most of the way through it, I enjoyed the story, but toward the end I began to think it sucked. The end is where I always have serious self doubt. Did I keep true to the characters? Was there enough plot? Too much plot? Was the sex hot or icky? I let my mom read the book and her wrinkled nose through the middle of the book knocked my confidence. She’s not a big fan of erotica. She did like the big battle at the end. My friends love erotica so hopefully they will embrace my racy Vikings.

So what’s next? When I wrapped up the book yesterday, I started doing some Internet surfing, looking for a word, which led to a little known historical tidbit, which grew into a concept for a modern paranormal tale. Guess I’ll begin SOW next week. Just have to wrap up my little western first and get it out the door. Need uncomplicated cowboys after all that thinking about cold, cold planets and monsters in the sea.

I know I’ve been neglectful. But I’m back. I won’t start the next big book until May, so while I’m puttering I’ll be online. And very, very soon the pool will warm up enough that I can stand it and maybe I can shed the pounds I gained when I quit smoking.

Sigh. Life is good. Tomorrow, I’m taking the red-headed-hellion and her hubby to a concert—Lady Antebellum and Tim McGraw. I’m not a Country fan, but they are, so I thought it would be nice to do something with them. Then I have to figure out where they are showng How to Train Your Dragon so I can arrange to treat the 5-year-old. Any excuse to drown in dragons again. I’m even making excuses to hit McDonalds now and then to collect those Kids’ Meal toys. I have the little green dragon, sitting on his haunches, but I want them all! If any of you have one and want to save me the inches on my hips, I’ll pay the postage…

🙄

Today’s the day. If I keep my head down, ignore my email and my laundry, I should finish the big book. As soon as I’m done, I’ll take a look at the entries in the title contest—so if you haven’t entered, you still have time! In the meantime, please give a warm welcome to my friend, Tracy Wolff! ~DD

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“The ‘edgy and erotic’ author of Tie Me Down and Full Exposure offers another steamy novel of sex, lies, and sultry games.” Shannon McKenna, New York Times bestselling author of Tasting Fear

Burned once too often, true crime writer Lacey Richards has sworn off love. Instead, she explores her deepest desires through her anonymous- and very provocative-blog. Anonymous, that is, until her dark and ultrasexy neighbor discovers her dirty secret.

Stockbrocker-turned-carpenter Byron Hawthorne gave up life in the fast lane, hoping to start over in a new city. When he learns his alluring neighbor is the one writing the sizzling blog that keeps him up all night, he can’t resist offering to fulfill her fantasies in the flesh. But Byron isn’t the only man provoked by Lacey’s writing. Now Lacey doesn’t know who she can trust-and who she can dare to tease.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Lacey shivered, despite the heat, her body trembling under her neighbor’s intense scrutiny. Part of her wanted to look away, wanted to pick up her water glass and head indoors. But she couldn’t move, couldn’t think. Could barely breathe as her entire body lit up from the inside.

What was it about this man, with his black eyes and roguish grin that turned her on so much? That held her transfixed on her balcony when she should be doing anything but this? She knew better—had known better since Curtis had used and abused her—and yet she here she was, unable to look away. Worse, she was enjoying every second of watching him watch her. Was reveling in the arousal arcing through her body.

In the distance, lightning flashed. Once, twice, followed quickly by the sharp crack of rumbling thunder. The air around her grew heavier, wetter—as did her body at this sudden advent of the storm. The wind picked up, whipped through her loose hair and down her bare arms. Lifted her skirt and flirted with the soft, damp skin of her upper thighs.

And she let it.

Then watched, fascinated, as—across the courtyard– her neighbor’s eyes narrowed dangerously. She nearly grinned as he focused on her open thighs—and, she hoped, the small scrap of pink lace that was the only thing separating her from his view.

Desire escalated to need and she felt her breath catch. Sweat bloomed on her skin, ran in rivulets between her breasts and down her back and still she didn’t go inside. Didn’t cover herself. Didn’t so much as move.

She couldn’t.

Watching him watch her was the most erotic experience she’d ever had.
Read the rest of this entry »

Welcome my BFF, Sasha White. Remember my cruise buddy? Well, she has an awesome little threesome you’re gonna want to try out! ~DD

I’m Sasha White, and I’m a recovering procrastinator.

It’s been a long while since I’ve had a fresh eBook out there to heat y’all up, but the time has finally come—and a lot of it is due in part to my BFF Delilah. You see, I burnt myself out with writing too much, too fast, so I took some time off. However, my time off kept getting longer and longer. Partly because I’m a procrastinator, and partly because I’d really lost my desire to write and be part of the writing community. But our very own sweet Delilah also has some Kick-Ass in her, and she kept at me…in a mostly sweet and persistent way to get my ass back in gear. As Delilah has said, sometimes it’s good to just let the imagination go and write for the pure fun of it. ONE WEEKEND is just that story for me. It got me back in gear, and reminded my of how much writing hot sexy stories with real characters can be. It’s an uncomplicated, super hot and sexy menage story. It’s also a short story, but hey, that means it’s also low cost *grin*. I expect I’ll be visiting these characters again and again in more short stories as I fell in love with them…and I hope you do too. So thank you, Delilah, for being such a good friend and kicking my ass when I needed it.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

To get you interested, here’s an excerpt:

The second I entered the apartment my clothes started coming off. I kicked off my heels, dropped my skirt and peeled off my starched white blouse as I walked to the kitchen. I’d worked hard to become a CPA and I loved the work, but the uptight clothes required in our office were not what I would call comfortable. Opening the fridge I just stood there…a soft moan of pleasure slipping from between my lips as cool air finally hit bare skin.

“Ange?” Rick’s voice floated in from the balcony.

My pulse kicked up a notch, and I smiled softly. Just the sound of his voice was enough to make my heart turn over. Rick Craig was my perfect match, my other half. “In the kitchen,” I called back.

“Bring a couple more beers when you come out here, will you?”

“Sure, baby.”

Eager to shake off the tension of the day I grabbed a bottle of white wine and a couple of beers from the fridge. Bottle opener and wineglass in one hand, beers in the other, I headed out to the balcony with full hands.

Three steps from the sliding doors I realized that Rick wasn’t alone outside, and hesitated. It was easy to identify the other voice as Mark Hoffman, Rick’s best friend. I glanced down at the sheer bra and panties barely covering my parts, and a deliciously naughty heat surged through me. It wasn’t like Mark had never seen me in a bikini or something.

“Here you go,” I said as I swept aside the curtain and stepped out onto the balcony. Stopping short I glanced from Rick to Mark, all wide-eyed innocence. “Oh! Hi, Mark.”
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I’m off to Little Rock for a doctor’s appointment. I plan to whine a lot about my neck and back. Whatcha wanna bet she says I need to spend less time at the computer? Huh.

Since I won’t be around, I thought I’d leave a question for you to think about. Answer with your gut. My gut went straight to the gutter with this one…

If you could invent a pair of glasses that would allow you to see abstract things (for instance, the motives behind someone’s actions), what would you want to see most of all?

I’d want to see other people’s dirty thoughts. Wouldn’t that be endlessly entertaining?