Bestselling Author Delilah Devlin
HomeMeet Delilah
BookshelfBlogExtrasEditorial ServicesContactDelilah's Collections

Archive for August, 2014

2 Days to His Every Fantasy! (Contest)
Sunday, August 31st, 2014

 NOTE: The Random Scavenger Hunt Contest is still ongoing!
See details two posts down!

* * * * *

If you follow me on Facebook, you know I’ve shared snippets from this book, including the thrilling entirety of chapter one. Here, I share a little snippet of the sexiness that ensues in the second of my Sultry Summer Nights books. My heroine is a virgin. Something key to the trouble she is in. Something that helps Sergei redeem himself for a past mistake. Virgin doesn’t mean clueless. It also doesn’t mean she won’t be eager for a little “instruction.”

Buy at Barnes & Noble | Books-A-Million| iTunes

Comment today and you may win a free Amazon
download of the prequel story, HER ONLY DESIRE!
I’ll be giving away a second Amazon copy!

His Every Fantasy_600

A Sultry Summer Nights Novel

The last thing ex-SEAL Sergei Gun needs is a complication. As part of a powerful black-ops company, he’s led an extraction team into the Mexican jungle to rescue two men who have been kidnapped. Everything has gone according to plan until Serge discovers a third hostage-an exquisitely beautiful woman with a secret haunting her stormy gray eyes…a woman who refuses to make this rescue easy. With no choice but to bring her back to the compound deep in the sultry, steamy Louisiana bayou, Serge vows to protect her, body and soul…

Kara Nichols never imagined that she’d capture the interest of a powerful man like Serge. Yet from the moment they met, she’s fantasized about his strong hands caressing her naked skin, his musky scent lingering on her sheets. What began as a simple rescue mission ignites into a passionate affair. As Serge teaches her the tantalizing art of surrender, Kara finds herself more than willing to shed every last one of her inhibitions and submit to him fully. But the dark, dangerous forces that captured Kara aren’t ready to let her go so easily…

“Sergei, I’m not a baby.”

She spoke with conviction, her voice sure and steady. Sergei cursed himself for this lust he could barely control. Already, and despite his best intentions, his fingers were working her stiff little peak. His cock thickened, throbbing beneath her squirming ass.

But she was a virgin. The last time he’d been with a virgin was Afya, and he’d been nearly as green as she’d been all those years ago. What Kara wanted from him was wrong in so many ways. She needed comfort, to know she was safe. From Las Omegas, from him.

But her eyelids were dipping dreamily with every tug he gave her nipple. Her warm body was nestled against him, soft and wanting. Thawing the hard, cold places inside him. “This Lucio isn’t likely to let you go simply because you’ve lost your hymen. Men like that don’t let go. Ever.”

“All the more reason why I need you, Sergei,” she said, her voice tighter, her finger tracing the back of his neck. “Give me something beautiful. Something Lucio can never give me.”

His whole body tightened in rejection at the thought of another man taking her. “He’s not coming anywhere near you. He’ll never have you.”

“Please.” She slid her palm along his cheek, her finger rubbing his bottom lip. “Please,” she repeated softly.

Her pleas caused a pang inside his chest. Her soft, slender body was beginning to move restlessly. A signal his own horny libido found difficult to ignore.

Well, there were ways to distract her from her purpose. Pleasurable ones that would give her release and help her relax. Ways that wouldn’t leave him feeling empty and like he’d failed to keep her safe. He leaned over her and kissed her mouth, groaning because he knew he’d be in blue-ball hell for what he was about to do.

When he pulled away, he saw her breaths were shorter; her eyes were darkened with passion. Her mouth was swollen and so lushly tempting, he wished he could take it the way he was dying to, but fuck, she was a virgin—she deserved more. Should expect more. Her first time should be with a man she loved, with someone she wanted to build a life with. Still, his cock jerked at the thought of her plump lips closing around him.

Her gray eyes were like little mirrors reflecting his desire. She stared back, her arm around him, her body pressing on his cock, which was getting fidgety beneath her bottom. Something she didn’t miss, because she slowly rubbed against him.

He placed a hand on her thigh and gave it a squeeze, a warning to stop, but she only smiled. The temptation was there, her willingness shining in her eyes. Slowly, he moved his hand down her leg and then swept upward, smoothing up a petal of her flame-colored dress.

Kara’s fingers bit into his shoulder and she parted her thighs, giving him permission to continue. Her inner thigh was soft and smooth. Her pussy was hot as he cupped it, his fingers spreading, two on either side of her satin-cloaked lips, one dipping in between to finger her opening. Saved from intruding by the fabric of her underwear, he applied pressure, waiting as the narrow seam grew wet, soaking his fingertip.

Her lips parted, a ragged moan seeping from between her pursed lips. She inched her thighs wider and leaned against his arm, her breasts rising and dipping faster with each shallow breath.

He poked at the fabric, rimming her entrance, circling around and around, and then moved upward to find her clit. The tight nub was rigid to the touch and her breath hissed when he tapped it. When he paused, preparing to withdraw, she reached between her legs and pressed against his hand. “Touch me. Please.”

Damning himself for being weak, he slid his fingers under the band of her underwear and touched her sex directly. Moist, fragrant heat surrounded his fingertips as he slid between her folds, tracing them up and down.

Again, her lips pursed and she ground down on his cock, her bottom squirming so deliciously he gritted his teeth against the sensations rocketing through him. He’d love nothing more than to ease open his pants and slide her onto his cock, but he was in control here—the one tasked with keeping her safe. However, her shallow pants and gently rocking hips were doing a number on his good intentions.

Sergei continued to fondle her while he wrestled with his conscience. He tugged her lips, rimmed her opening, but never penetrated, mindful of her inexperience. But he was loath to leave her without providing a hint of the pleasure he could give. Wetting a finger in the well of her pussy, he transferred the moisture to her clit and gently rubbed it. He knew his finger was slightly callused, and by her sharp breathy gusts, she was sensitive, so he returned again and again for more lubricant, careful to keep her tiny bud wet while he swirled.

Her eyelids dropped to half-mast, and a thin sheen of sweat sprouted on her forehead and upper lip. Her teeth bit into her lower lip, and she sucked it inside as her body grew more and more tense. One thigh pressed hard against his torso while the other widened.

Her skirt inched higher and higher, until it swathed her hips and he was looking down at her sex, his fingers disappearing beneath a scrap of red satin. She was soaked, so was his hand, but he couldn’t stop, not until he’d given her what he could, without betraying his unspoken vow.

When he heard a tight moan seep from between her lips, he leaned to whisper in her ear, “Let go, now, baby. Come for me. I’ve got you.”

Her head dropped back, and she arched.

He held her against him, while he circled faster, pressed a little harder against the hard nub. At last, she came, her eyes rolling up, her mouth opening, her thighs tensing, before finally relaxing while she hung inside his embrace, limp and replete.

Sergei had never seen anything so beautiful. Her abandonment sent a wash of possessive heat throughout his body. His cock was unbearably tight, his balls hard as stones. But he gathered her up against his chest and held her close until she began to stir.

Her eyes blinked open, and she stared upward, a frown drawing together her brows as her focus narrowed.

“You’re welcome,” he drawled.

Her eyebrows lowered. “You think you did me a favor?”

“No, I gave you a gift.”

“It’s not what I wanted.”

“And yet you’ve drenched my legs.”

“Huh.” She pushed against his chest, then slid her legs to the side, standing. She wobbled for a second, but batted away the hand he extended to steady her. “That wasn’t what I wanted at all.”

Maybe it was because he was hard as a post, but hearing her, irritation flooded him. “You’re a virg—”

Kara pressed a hand over his mouth and bent toward his face. “Don’t repeat that. I know very well you have no interest in fucking a virgin. That you just did this poor little virgin a huge freaking favor.”

Sergei grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand from his mouth. “I’m protecting you,” he gritted out.

She bent closer until her face was level with his. “I don’t need your damn protection.” Her chest was billowing around her angry breaths, but her face suddenly fell. “Don’t you want me?”

That dejected look was more than he could take. He cursed under his breath, and reached for her, bringing her body between his open thighs while his arms encircled her. Again, she perched on a thigh, and he kissed her, hard, while he dragged her hand and cupped it against his straining cock. “Does this feel like I don’t want you?”

“Sergei…” She frowned. “I don’t want to be something you won’t let yourself have. If you don’t take care of it, I will. It’s a technicality. An excuse.”

She was right. He felt her words resonate all the way through him. Her inexperience was just another reason for holding himself apart. To keep himself from caring too deeply.

Her hand squeezed him again, then her fingers slowly trailed his length before falling away. “I won’t beg you.”

Still holding her hand, he moved up, ringing her wrist. Her hand curved away and she pulled, but he refused to let her go. He couldn’t. “I’ll give you what you want,” he said softly.

3 Days to His Every Fantasy! (Contest)
Saturday, August 30th, 2014

NOTE: The Random Scavenger Hunt Contest is still ongoing!
See details in the next post!

* * * * *

His Every Fantasy_600His Every Fantasy releases in most places next Tuesday! Some of you nag me to write longer stories. Well, here’s one. Sure, Amazon’s being a butt, which hasn’t helped readers find it or the one before it one little bit. But both are here (almost) for my friends to enjoy. Everything you love is there—sexy, Alpha, ex-SEAL, Black Ops guys; suspense; some light, BDSM to get your heart thumping; steamy Louisiana bayous; hot merciless Mexican sun, Caribbean sea…

But before I show you all the reasons why you will love this story, I’d like to remind you about its prequel novel, Her Only Desire. Enjoy a brief taste!

Comment today, and you may win a free Amazon download of HER ONLY DESIRE!

Her Only Desire

“Her Only Desire is a red hot erotic romance that wow’d me, shocked me, and left me wanting more of Tilly, Boone, and his hunky ex-Navy SEAL friends… I was really quite impressed by Delilah Devlin’s writing style. Erotic/BDSM novels can be pretty intense, for obvious reasons, but she managed to inject both a sense of humor and a thread of mystery to this story.” ~ 4 1/2 Stars from Harlequin Junkie

A Sultry Summer Nights Novel

The moment Tilly Floret sees the sleek Bentley driving down Main Street, she knows trouble has arrived in her sleepy little town. A mysterious job posting keeps appearing at the diner where she works, and she can’t resist applying. No matter that the entire town of Bayou Vert is whispering about the wealthy, powerful man behind it all and his scandalous return home. The moment his ice-blue eyes meet hers, he ignites an all-consuming desire she never imagined possible, one she can’t deny.

Ex-navy SEAL Boone Benoit never thought he’d set foot in Louisiana again. As soon as Tilly starts her new job in his pleasure club, he senses a kindred soul. One who has carefully guarded secrets of her own-and a simmering hunger for the taboo rites of mastery and submission. The only difference is she doesn’t yet know it. Now as Boone tutors Tilly in the tantalizing world of leather and lace, she will shed her every inhibition and surrender to him, body and soul.


“Tell me, Tilly. What do you think BDSM is all about?”

“It doesn’t matter what I think,” she said faintly. No way would she describe the images in her mind.

“Blunt talk. You were ready for that from me. Give me the same courtesy.”

Her fingers were clasped tightly in her lap. She drew a breath and let her gaze fall away. “I think it’s for people who haven’t learned to connect with others in a healthy way. Or who have something missing inside themselves.”

He stayed silent for a moment, his expression shuttered. “Are you open to the possibility that entering that world can help a person find what’s missing in their lives?”

She raised her gaze and gave him a frown. “Maybe that’s what you choose to believe about me, but twisting my words doesn’t make it true.”

“What do you think might be missing inside me?”

She shook back her hair and lifted her chin. “Like I said. Connection. Being forced to leave everything and everyone you knew behind can’t have been easy. You were the high school football star. On the honor roll. Everything was ripped out from under your feet.”

“So, you think my lack of control over what happened made me seek the ultimate control over my body and someone else’s?”

Her chest pinched, and she sucked in a deep breath before she gave him a nod.

His gaze studied her. “Does that thought disturb you? Surrendering control to someone else?”

“I can’t imagine trusting anyone enough to allow them to tie me up and do whatever they want. It’s dangerous.”

“It can be,” he said, nodding. “But creating fear in my submissive is never my goal. Inspiring trust. Giving pleasure. Helping her discover her own potential for pleasure and submission… Now, those acts are things that excite me.”

A shiver worked its way down her spine, although whether from what he described or the silky tone of his voice, she didn’t know. A knot lodged in her throat, and she swallowed hard. “What did I do to make you think I might be like…that?”

His grin was easy, startling, and at odds with the stern set of his jaw. “You gave me your foot.” He leaned over the table, his eyes alight with humor. “You didn’t want to, but you were curious. The action, lifting your foot, put you physically off-balance. You, Tilly Floret, gave yourself over to me.”

Her breath hitched. The memory flashed in her mind and she remembered the jumble of sensations and emotions that simple action and his care had engendered in her. “All you did was slide a shoe on my foot. I wasn’t acceptin’ anything else from you.”

“You let me touch you,” he said softly.

She blinked. A subtle tell, she realized, because his crooked smile widened. His eyes narrowed as he studied her face. His expression was…expectant, his body unmoving. “Can I show you it’s not all about whips and chains?”

The silkiness was still there in his tone, a teasing quality that tugged at her willpower.

“Will you allow me to show you that surrender can be subtle and beautiful? That the lifestyle isn’t really about sexual perversion at all?”

Maybe the wine was to blame for her body’s reactions. Her skin tingled, flushing hot. Her nipples tightened. She shifted on her seat, squeezing her thighs together, because the timbre of his voice, so deep and smooth, felt like a physical caress.

He leaned closer. “We’re alone. Just you and me. Answer me.”

She cleared her throat, shaking her head slightly, a halfhearted gesture because her body was already leaning toward his. “That’s a lie. You have people all around us. For all I know, you have this courtyard filled with bugs and cameras. Observin’ people is your business. The way you live.”

“True, but only my most trusted are here. They won’t intrude. Or ever speak about what they see or hear.”

Tilly drew in a deep breath. “And that’s supposed to reassure me?” Her eyes narrowed. “Are the bedrooms wired?”

This time he blinked, and her back stiffened. She’d paraded around nude after her shower, while she’d sifted through clothing to find the most flattering outfit.

His mouth tightened a fraction. “The cameras are for your protection, you know. You entered my world willingly. This is one of the prices.”

She remembered the way he and Serge had watched her on the flight to Monterrey. Certainly his large, rugged next-in-command was one of those overseeing her “protection.” Renewed irritation tensed her muscles. “You expect me to learn to be comfortable knowin’ your men watch me?”

“I expect you to learn to take comfort from the fact that I’ll keep you safe.” He said, his words slightly clipped.

Tilly’s shoulders drooped. Suddenly, she felt weary. “At what price?”

Boone leaned back and set his napkin beside his plate.

A door opened onto the patio and a servant walked to the table and took their dishes.

When the woman’s dark-eyed gaze rose to Boone’s and he gave her a nod, Tilly snorted. Not just for her protection or his. For his comfort and amusement as well. He didn’t have to ring a bell to bring the staff. All he had to do was give a subtle signal, placing his napkin beside his plate, to bring someone running.

“You’re entitled to your anger,” Boone said, his voice once again soothing. “But please stay for dessert. Marta will be disappointed if you don’t try it.”

“I think I’ve had enough,” she said quietly. Right this moment, the only thing she wanted was to run as far away from this man as she could.

“If staying would please me, would you? A taste is all I ask.”

And he wasn’t talking about the dessert. She was certain of that.

The door opened again. The woman, Marta, brought out a tray. She set down plates with molded flan and half a dozen raspberries beside the custards. Then she left again as quietly as she’d come.

The chair across from hers scraped.

Her pulse raced as Boone carried his chair and his plate toward her. But she didn’t move. She couldn’t. Her damnable curiosity kept her frozen in her chair because she was dying to know what he intended to do next. If he moved close enough to touch her, would she have the will to resist?

He sat the plate beside hers, his chair as well, and then leaned back. “The fact that a table separated us gave you courage,” he murmured.

“Now you want to intimidate me?” The quaver in her voice matched the trembling in her body.

“No, I want to be close enough to you that I won’t miss anything.”

Close enough that he couldn’t help but note how flushed her skin was or how her erect nipples pushed against the front of her thin bra. Pretending she didn’t care, she lifted her chin defiantly.

Boone gave her a half smile and leaned toward her. “Indulge me?” he whispered. “I promise I won’t do anything that will embarrass you.”

She met his steady gaze, her fearless pose unraveling because he was so close she felt the heat from his thigh right beside hers.

“Tilly…close your eyes. I want to feed you.”

She searched his expression, carefully neutral except for the slight curving of his mouth. He was teasing her. “This is silly. I feel silly.”

“Indulge me. We’ll both enjoy the experience.”

Huffing a breath, she closed her eyes. Not trusting him for a moment, but she’d let him play his game. Fact was, she enjoyed the intimacy of sitting so close to him. She liked the way he smelled: like cinnamon and male. Liked the heat emanating from his body.

“Open your mouth.”

She complied, opening like a baby bird waiting for a worm. At that thought, she wrinkled her nose. Then she tasted the metal bottom of a spoon on her tongue and an explosion of sweetness as she closed her mouth around the flan. She groaned in ecstasy.


She opened again and received a second spoonful of the sinfully delicious dessert—creamy, smooth, sweet like caramel.


This time, she didn’t hesitate. But a spoon didn’t enter her mouth. Instead, two fingers, tasting slightly salty, deposited a raspberry on her tongue. She shivered, fighting the urge to close her lips around his fingers as she had the spoonfuls of flan.

A fingertip dragged across her tongue as it left her mouth. She bit into the berry, tart, sweet, and salty exploding on her taste buds.

“If we were lovers,” he said beside her ear. “I’d take advantage of the fact you can’t anticipate my moves,” he whispered. “Open.”

Without a thought, she did, and his finger daubed flan on her tongue. The taste was even better than before without the metallic aftertaste of the silver spoon.

“I’d open that clasp and part your pretty dress. Open.”

Again, his fingers entered her mouth, dropping another raspberry. Her breaths grew ragged. Her heart raced.

“I’d thumb open the clasp of your bra and expose your pretty breasts. Open. No talking.”

She was just about to ask how he knew her breasts were pretty. How had he known? The thought of cameras entered her mind and for the first time, they didn’t horrify her. They became part of his seduction.

Flan, again, was delivered by two fingers.

The urge was too strong. She latched her lips around them and sucked.

His breath gusted against her cheek.

Not as steady as before.

She almost smiled.

He withdrew his fingers. “Open.”

She did. And this time, a hand cupped her cheek and tilted her head back. His lips touched hers, his tongue sweeping into her mouth. She could taste the flan on his tongue and she swallowed greedily, taking him even deeper inside her mouth. An arm settled on her shoulders, turning her slightly. The kiss deepened.

Flan, wine, raspberries—none tasted quite as wicked as Boone Benoit’s mouth. His lips sealed hers. When he began to move, dragging her lips in slow circles, she was helpless to follow his lead, drugged by the sensual tug.

When he drew back, she licked her lips and slowly opened her eyes.

His blue eyes gleamed. “There’s pleasure in submission, Tilly.”


Delilah’s Random Scavenger Hunt!
Thursday, August 28th, 2014

For the next few days, I’ll be sharing posts from His Every Fantasy and the prequel book, Her Only Desire. Today, I just want to play. Well, I’m going to be working at my desk, but I invite you to play. We’re having a scavenger hunt! The winner gets his or her choice of one of these Cross ‘n’ Bones bracelets I’ve made (not the multi-cross one!):


DO NOT POST YOUR ANSWERS TO THE QUESTIONS HERE! Why would you want to help someone else qualify for the prize, huh?

DO POST HERE SAYING HOW MUCH FUN YOU HAD. Not that I’ll make posting a comment here a requirement to win, but hey, I do like to know whether the things I do here are something you enjoy!

So here are the questions…

1) What is the name of Delilah’s second board among her Pinterest boards? And how many pins has she made?

2) Where does my most recent pin take you? Just give me the name of the website.

3) Which romantic couple do I pay homage to on the home page of my Delilah Devlin website? And what special event of theirs does the video memorialize?

4) What three books are listed on my bookshelf page?

5) Which book on my Coming Soon page do you most look forward to reading?

And that’s it. While you’re visiting my stops, why not follow or subscribe? I do try to think of fun things to encourage you to return. Maybe you’ll discover a passion of your own you have to share.

REMEMBER! Do Not post your answers here! Send them to me PRIVATELY! SEND YOUR ANSWERS TO ME AT:! I can’t wait to see your answers. Enjoy!

This contest will close on Sunday. So you have plenty of time to play! ~DD

Kacey Hammell: Prank Me
Wednesday, August 27th, 2014

Here’s a sneak peek at Kacey Hammell’s Prank Me


Kacey Hammell
Contemporary Erotica
Quickie Short Story
ISBN # 9781419945007
Publisher: Ellora’s Cave

From zero to sixty … no amount of braking will stop this crash course with love.

Race car driver Lark Stevens agrees to help a close friend prove that paybacks can be a bitch. But what she doesn’t expect is to fall in lust with her mark. Or is he who she thinks he is?

Set on her mission, Lark assumes the mystery man who amps up the heat and pushes her heart into overdrive is her intended target. And once they connect, getting even is the last thing on her mind.

As the heat smolders and revs from zero to sixty in mere seconds, Lark realizes she’s on a crash course with love that no amount of braking will stop.

Inside Scoop:  No holds barred sexual teasing, dances meant to titillate and push you over the edge, and M/F love scenes to get engines revving.

Buying Links:
Book Page
 Ellora’s Cave Amazon — US / Canada / UKB&N



Prank Me Excerpt © Kacey Hammell

A Romantica® erotic romance from Ellora’s Cave

Lark grinned. So the studmuffin wasn’t used to women who dressed like her. Good. Made it all the more fun to entice them.

“I’m sorry, am I in the wrong office?”

“You’re here to see Bobby, correct?” She knew he was, but didn’t want to give the game away.

“Yes I am.”

“Then you’re in the right place.” She drew open the sides of the belt keeping her jacket closed. Working it apart in deliberate slow motion to heighten anticipation, she again instructed, “Have a seat. I don’t bite.” She smirked. “Unless you ask me to.”

He watched her, eyes bulging as she pushed the material off her shoulders and laid it over Bobby’s desk.

Shock and uncertainty flooded his eyes but was quickly replaced with interest and heat as he took in her scantily clad body.

Good. She liked his full attention on her.

“I’m not sure what’s going on here. Are you Bobby’s secretary?” She opened her mouth to speak but he raised a hand and ushered her to hush. “I’ve never seen a secretary look like you.”

She laughed, ignoring his question about her identity, and winked at him as he sat in the chair in front of Bobby’s desk. “Oh this old thing?” She gestured to her red silk croptop, her black lace bra showing through, and her crimson leather skirt, which was so short her panties would surely show if she bent over. “Just something I threw on this morning.” She moved in front of him and leaned her ass on the desk.

He grinned and stared up at her. “What can I do for you?”

“Oh honey.” She retrieved her cell phone. “Ask not what you can do for me.” She pressed the music button and selected her dance playlist. “But what I can do for you.”

Strains of a bass guitar filled the room and vibrated to her soul, begging her to succumb to the seductive rhythm.


Avid Reader. Romance Author. Redhead…

Canadian-born author Kacey Hammell is definitely a book-a-holic. A romance reader from a young age, she fell in love with happily ever afters.  These days, as a multi-published erotic romance author, she enjoys adding a lot of heat, sass, and emotion to the many genres she writes.

A mom of three, Kacey has made certain each of her children know the value of the written word and the adventures they could escape on by becoming book-a-holics in their own right. She lives her own happily ever after with her perfect hero in Ontario, Canada, and is a true romantic at heart.

Connect with Kacey…

Website / Newsletter / Facebook / Facebook Author Page / Twitter / Amazon / Goodreads / Pinterest / Instagram / Triberr

Amazon’s being a butt…and a question…
Tuesday, August 26th, 2014

I can say that. It’s true. I have a book coming out with a major publisher next week, and Amazon won’t give it a pre-order button because the publisher, Hachette, is at war with Amazon. I could care less who wins. I just want readers to find my story. I labored over every word in the 70,0000-word novel. When I search my booklist on Amazon, His Every Fantasy doesn’t even appear, so there’s a double whammy of them hiding the book unless the reader knows the exact title.

So, today, I’m reminding you the book exists—and that it’s releasing in just one week. And that there are other options for purchasing/pre-ordering the story. I’ll be back this weekend to share excerpts and run a special contest to help you remember my book that Amazon doesn’t want you to know about. His Every Fantasy is the sequel to Her Only Desire which released in May. You don’t have to read the first to enjoy the second, but I think you’ll really love the first, so why not start there? 🙂

His Every Fantasy_600

A Sultry Summer Nights Novel

The last thing ex-SEAL Sergei Gun needs is a complication. As part of a powerful black-ops company, he’s led an extraction team into the Mexican jungle to rescue two men who have been kidnapped. Everything has gone according to plan until Serge discovers a third hostage-an exquisitely beautiful woman with a secret haunting her stormy gray eyes . . . a woman who refuses to make this rescue easy. With no choice but to bring her back to the compound deep in the sultry, steamy Louisiana bayou, Serge vows to protect her, body and soul… 

Kara Nichols never imagined that she’d capture the interest of a powerful man like Serge. Yet from the moment they met, she’s fantasized about his strong hands caressing her naked skin, his musky scent lingering on her sheets. What began as a simple rescue mission ignites into a passionate affair. As Serge teaches her the tantalizing art of surrender, Kara finds herself more than willing to shed every last one of her inhibitions and submit to him fully. But the dark, dangerous forces that captured Kara aren’t ready to let her go so easily… 

Pre-order at Barnes & Noble
Pre-order at Books-A-Million

* * * * *

So, I did promise a question…

I quite smoking a week ago. I still want a cig every time the phone rings (I always stepped outside to take my calls). And it’s been hard concentrating on work because every time I reached a place where my brain ran out of story, I’d find another scene while staring at smoke rings.

Have you ever had to give up something you loved
because it was bad for you? How did you do it?

Marla Monroe: The Voices Tell Me Things
Monday, August 25th, 2014

When deciding what to write next, I consult one of my many voices to see who has the most to say and is the loudest in my head. Once I have that character, I have them gather the rest of the cast and crew together and then my kick ass hero(s) have to whoop some ass to get the rest of the voices to settle down and wait their turn. If he didn’t ride herd on them, I’d never be able to hear my hero and the others tell me what to write.

Lately the voices have been pulling me in a different direction that has me a little worried. I love writing just about any subject except pure inspirational or what some call chick lit. I’m also not very good at young adult. Just about anything else is fair game. The problem I’m finding with the way the characters have me leaning is that some of it is much darker than what I’m writing right now. All of my books have, had, and always will have happy endings, but some of these stories follow hard journeys to get them where they need to be.

I can’t help but wonder what readers think about books like this. Do they like them or hate them. Do they enjoy one every once in a while, but prefer the lighter ones? I think that there is a group of readers who enjoy them from the huge amount of biker and cage fighting books I’m seeing rise to the top of the top seller lists, but is it something I want to write?

What are your favorite type of books, the light hearted ones, the ones with a little suspense or angst written in, or the ones where the characters are tortured and look as if they will never be able to get together but finally do? It takes all kinds of writers to meet the needs of readers out there, but it takes all types of readers to support some of the niche writers too. How far from your favorite type of book do you explore when looking for something different? Will you go out of your normal comfort zone to try something or do you stick with what you like and that’s it?

I look at it like a favorite restaurant. Do you try different dishes all the time or do you get the same exact one every time you eat there? Maybe you choose something different every third time you go, or maybe you try something from someone else’s plate to see if you might like to try it for yourself. I think readers do that, too. When they want to try something new but don’t want to buy it in case they didn’t like it, they sometimes borrow a friend’s book or browse the Amazon free books to see what is out there.

When the voices tell me to write, I write. But sometimes, what I write ends up sitting on a jump drive until I have the courage to bring it out and find a place it will fit. Sometimes, it never sees the light of day. If I try to ignore the strongest voices in my head to strain to hear the ones I want to listen to, they wait for me to fall asleep and torture me in my dreams. Sometimes, they just keep me awake and wear me down until I give in and write their story.

Regardless of who wins or cheats to be heard, I have to write. I have to get them out of my head and onto the paper. Going more than a couple of days without doing that will have me climbing the walls and banging my head against them in an effort to shut those pesky characters up long enough for me to get back to the computer. Writing for me is like good drugs for someone with a personality disorder. They help me tell the difference between the ones to listen to and the ones to ignore.
Follow her on Twitter   @MarlaMonroe1
You can find her books at
Or at Amazon

Renee Luke: One Writer’s Journey
Sunday, August 24th, 2014

rlrwajetBetween 2002 and 2008, I was highly involved in Romance Writers of America (RWA). For few years, I was on the local chapter board and served as the events coordinator for a couple of those. I loved my monthly meetings and the connections and relationships it fostered. And friendships. I went to our local biannual retreat and attended multiple nation conferences, traveling across the country to Dallas, Denver, Reno, New York, Atlanta, San Francisco.

I participated in online chapters, which were still just getting off the ground, and in 2007 I was part of the group of dedicated and talented ladies who founded Passionate Ink and coordinated out first ever chapter event at the Atlanta Aquarium during conference that year. For those who don’t know, Passionate Ink is RWA’s erotic romance chapter, and getting acceptance all those years ago was no easy feat.

I was part of the ‘rising’ crowd, I think <grin>, having scored a top notch agent, made sales to multiple traditional publishers, sold rights overseas, had books get book club selections. I didn’t need to pitch books or ideas since I had an agent to do that for me and books under contract already, so that freed me up to just learn and have fun. I sipped cocktails and giggled with coveted editors, I danced after the Rita’s with them, too. I had a great time at the conferences and thought my career was on cloud nine.

And then, in the fall of 2007 the bottom fell out on my world. I should have seen it coming. Actually, I should have made it happen half a decade sooner. My marriage had been bad for years, but I suffered in silence, keeping that part of my life a secret. I never thought I’d have the courage to leave my ex-husband and I was resigned to a life of sadness and loneliness. I may have suffered, but my characters did not. All the pain and anguish and emotion, I felt over years of a bad marriage was poured into my books.

But in the fall of 2007 my ex-husband acted out against my oldest child. I was resigned to being a wife in this life, I was not resigned to being a mother in it, too. I left him, but the next few years weren’t easy. I could write an entire blog post about the following years, hell, I could write a book about them, but this post isn’t about my personal life, it’s about my experiences with RWA.

Over the next year, I tried to hang onto my RWA friendships and relationships. I tried to write through my suffering, finished out what remained on my contracts, and attended conference in July 2008, but writing was already taking a back burner by then. Life was messy and complicated and difficult.

Months slipped into years. Six of them, actually. During those six years, I found my joy again. Lost weight, found a day job, met an amazing man, had a new baby, went back to college, and though characters drifted by to say hello, I didn’t have any stories scratching to be set free. I thought I’d lost the need to write and since I was happy, I didn’t need to pour my sorrow out on the page. But I missed the relationships and friendships. I missed the feeling of a story burning to be written. I missed the feeling and elation of writing ‘The End’.

In the spring of 2013, I began to write again. I self-published a few stories and did fairly well navigating a brand new world of writing and publishing. We’re in a new time and so much has changed since I quietly backed away from writing and publishing. In 2007 erotic romance was seen as the red-headed step-child, but now those hot stories are mainstream and bestsellers. Small presses and self-publishing was frowned upon. But now Amazon rules the market.

So this year, I decided to venture back into the world I’d been so deeply rooted in, so in love with, so involved with. This year, I went to San Antonio to Romance Writers of America’s national conference.


It was exactly how I remembered. But everything was different. Girlfriends I had before who were just starting their careers when I was are now super stars in this industry, or they’re gone, not having the thick skin needed to sustain.  And there are so many new faces.

I felt brand new. I knew what to expect, how to navigate a conference, but the people had changed, attitudes about publishing had changed, acceptance of my genre had changed. I was in a weird space. I am an award winning multi-published author, and yet, I am a nobody. I belonged there, but didn’t feel like I belonged. It was a strange feeling. I’ve been home for a few days now and it’s still surreal.

So much about RWA is the same. The same amazing classes, the same authors using classes to self-promote, the same talented speakers, the same giving agents, and sought-after editors. I saw them all, recognized them, but doubted that they remembered me. Some I had partied with, drank and danced with, but  right now, right this minute, I am a newbie and not in the ‘in crowd’.

What’s different now is that I have confidence in my ability to write. I know I belong in this world. Whereas before, I was scared and insecure, I am now a confident woman sure of what I want and what I want to is to be back in the loving arms of Romance Writers of America. This is the world in which I belong. Sure, I adore the control of self-publishing and admire those doing it full time and on their own, but I yearn for my old friendships and relationships born from my time involved with RWA.

So while everything remains the same, everything is also different. And I am going to EMBRACE those differences!

Hello RWA and readers. Get ready, because I’m BACK!

~Renee Luke