Here’s hoping you’ve gotten your copy and are happily reading it! If you have time, I hope you’ll post a review somewhere. Help another reader decide whether it’s worth their time and money! And if you haven’t bought your copy—the time’s now! It’s only $0.99, but that price won’t last long.
True love bites!
Emmy Harris knows she’s not perfect. She has a little extra padding and isn’t the brightest bulb, but you’d think she was a sexy rock star the way everyone at a certain night club treats her from the moment she walks through the door. In fact, the two sexiest men there can’t seem to keep their hands off her, until one of them sweeps her away to his private domain. A girl like her isn’t going to waste a chance like that! So he’s a little rough and likes to take a nibble or two while he pleasures her. For a girl who didn’t know she’d never experienced a full-blown orgasm before, Dylan’s eccentricities are delicious!
Dylan O’Hara only wants a night of passion to slake his lusts, but finds Emmy is a full-bodied, red-blooded siren whose innocence and humor draw this Master vampire like a moth to a red-hot flame. When Emmy attracts the attention of a serial-killing vampire, Dylan vows to protect her, but he fears he’ll lose Emmy once she discovers he’s not quite human…
When most of us glance at a picture, we see the main subject we’re looking at: a person we know, ourselves, the new house our friend just bought, the bride and groom at our cousin’s wedding. Most of the time we don’t really examine the full photo. All those details in the background hidden in plain sight. As I’ve embarked on my writing career, I’ve come to see pictures as worlds of their own, crammed full of inspiration. Each piece of the photo can be a story in itself.
My short story, Aboard the Aquitania, is set on the HMS Aquitania in the Roaring Twenties as part of a steamy anthology called Flappers, Jazz, and Valentino. In doing research for the story, I found old pictures of the luxury liner on the internet, and one of the pictures really stuck with me. It is the shot of the main dining room. While my main characters Penny, Mikey, and Johnny sat at one of the tables with their smart tuxedos and black bow ties, the other tables held heartbreak, consternation, joy, you name it. Did Lillian Gish enjoy dinner at that very table on the prior crossing? Did Charlie Chaplin stand on the balcony overlooking the room with his signature cane? Did a waiter get fired for spilling soup on a New York socialite at the second to last table on the left?
The background of a picture can be a fascinating place to look for inspiration. As I examined this photo for details to describe, I thought about the stewards who came in to tidy the room before it opened to the passengers. Maybe one took a drag off a cigarette as he straightened a tablecloth while another of his fellow crew watched from behind a pillar longing to touch him. The artwork on the ceiling had to be painted with scaffolding and a lot of precision. Perhaps the artist had a lover waiting in one of the cabins while he worked. This photo alone holds far more than a thousand words worth of stories, each a potential short story or novel.
So next time you look at a picture, peruse the background. Who is sitting at the back table in the distance smiling happily at the couple in the foreground? Who is the lady on the bench shading her eyes from the sun behind your cousin catching his Frisbee at the park? Find the story lurking behind the main subject and see how many words it’s worth.
****
You can read about Johnny, Mikey, and Penny’s adventure Aboard the Aquitaniahere in House of Erotica’s Flappers, Jazz, and Valentino edited by Jillian Boyd.
Excerpt:
The three friends strolled along the promenade, and descended the stairs two decks. Entering the First Class Foyer, Johnny noted several couples milling in the spacious room around pillars holding up the artfully painted ceiling.
Mikey looked around. “Terrif.”
Penny nodded. “Indeed.”
Johnny led them though the throng, and opened the door to the Louis XVI Restaurant. Round-backed wooden chairs surrounded small, round tables. Greek pillars supported an upper level balcony overlooking the dining room. The ceilings sported glittering chandeliers and a large, ornate painting over the center of the room.
“Good evening, gentlemen. A table?”
Johnny turned his attention to the maître d’. The middle-aged gentleman standing before them gestured to a table by a window.
“Thank you, yes.”
He pulled out the chair for Johnny. “Your waiter will be with you shortly.”
“Cheers.” Mikey pulled out his own chair while the waiter pushed the chair under Johnny as he sat. He walked away with a backward glance and a smile.
Mikey chuckled. “He’s a bit of a vamp, isn’t he?”
Penny laughed. “Sure enough.”
Johnny cocked his head. “What do you mean?”
The other two men at the table exchanged glances.
“Is nobody home? He’s keen on you.”
Johnny took the menu. “No he’s not.” He studied it, ignoring the taunts of his friends.
A young dark-haired man in a white shirt, bowtie, and black slacks approached them. “May I get you something from the bar?”
Johnny admired his kissable lips and slender form. “Rum and coke.”
Mikey put down his menu. “Screwdriver.”
“Nothing for me.”
Johnny and Mikey turned to Penny. “You what?”
“I’ll have something after dinner.”
Johnny rolled his eyes. “Our friend will have a Highball.”
The waiter nodded and left them. Johnny turned to Penny.
“No drink? What’s eating you?”
“Nothing. I just want a clear head for later.”
Mikey’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”
A faint smiled formed on Penny’s lips. “Mind your own beeswax.”
Brent Archer began writing in 2011 at the nudging of his cousins. His first story sold, and he was hooked! Stay tuned for the May 8th release of his first novel, The Bastard’s Key, the first installment of his Golden Scepter series.
Visit his website to keep up on upcoming releases, and follow him on Twitter: @brentarcherwrit.
You already know I have a new sexy shorty out (The Long Road Home) and a new Vampire book coming tomorrow (Sm{B}itten), so I won’t belabor the point that you should be reading or anticipating reading—besides, I’ll be sending out a newsletter tomorrow, talking both of them up!! 🙂
Instead, I’d love for you to share your passions. You can talk about them or send me a picture to post here. I’ll check throughout the day for new entries!
My new passion (besides jewelry making and altered art dominoes) is painting. I’m not very good at it. But I don’t care. I get a very warm feeling in my gut when I finish something new. And it’s sooooo portable! I have a mini-watercolor set, a small watercolor notebook—both of which I can cram into a purse, my Blackwing pencils, and off I go—just add water! And when I paint something ugly—like that pear to the right—I do my Zentangle scribbles all over it.
Reminder: Yesterday’s contest is still ongoing. A winner will be chosen tomorrow!
* * * * *
I get that you think the title of Monday’s upcoming release is unpronounceable. I do. And it wasn’t that I couldn’t make up my mind between Smitten and Bitten, even though, in my story, Emmy Harris is both. I didn’t want to choose. I wanted both. Et voilà! Sm{B}itten! Next, you ask, why didn’t I use parentheses around the B? Simple, the squiggly enclosure is prettier! And there you were thinking there might be something deep or magical about why I entitled my book something so strange (you didn’t? I’m disappointed!). One thing’s for certain, you won’t forget it, right? Well, if you want to say my title out loud, you’re welcome to call it what I do: Smuh-bitten.
At any rate, the book comes out on Monday. Not long now, and I’d like to give you a peek inside. Have you pre-ordered your copy?
True love bites!
Emmy Harris knows she’s not perfect. She has a little extra padding and isn’t the brightest bulb, but you’d think she was a sexy rock star the way everyone at a certain night club treats her from the moment she walks through the door. In fact, the two sexiest men there can’t seem to keep their hands off her, until one of them sweeps her away to his private domain. A girl like her isn’t going to waste a chance like that! So he’s a little rough and likes to take a nibble or two while he pleasures her. For a girl who didn’t know she’d never experienced a full-blown orgasm before, Dylan’s eccentricities are delicious!
Dylan O’Hara only wants a night of passion to slake his lusts, but finds Emmy is a full-bodied, red-blooded siren whose innocence and humor draw this Master vampire like a moth to a red-hot flame. When Emmy attracts the attention of a serial-killing vampire, Dylan vows to protect her, but he fears he’ll lose Emmy once she discovers he’s not quite human…
Be warned. Emmy Harris doesn’t think like most romance heroines. You’ll get a glimpse of her funny little mind here…
At his urging, Emmy couldn’t hold back another second. She dug her fingers harder into his hair and pulled. “Come with me,” she said, her voice tight. And then she whimpered. The experience was too much. He was too much—Mr. Stamina. Too hard and lean and beautiful. His lovemaking was astounding and—something she never thought she’d admit—too strenuous. She panted like she’d run laps, something she’d never ever do.
He shook his head and continued the deep thrusts that pounded against the gate of her womb. Buried to the hilt, he ground his pubic hair against her clitoris until she was so sensitive to the scrape, she thought she might come out of her skin. And she was right effing there, could feel the tension wind tighter in her core.
But she wanted him with her. This one last time, she needed the whole enchilada. “Baby…bite me.”
He stopped. His arms grew rigid and his nostrils flared. “Don’t move,” he said, his voice holding a note of desperation.
“I want you, Dylan. All of you.”
“Dammit! Emmy, do you even know what you’re asking?”
“For you to trust me to be strong?” She lifted her hands to his cheeks. “Do you think I haven’t seen your other face?”
His entire body shuddered, and he closed his eyes. “Then watch,” he whispered.
Breathless with curiosity and a tinge of fear, she held still beneath him. His eyes opened—not the dark orbs she knew were green—but glowing circles that reflected the waning moonlight, like an animal’s. The better to see me.
His cheekbones lifted, popping and cracking as his face reassembled into the monster mask, his skin stretched tight around it. His lips curved above teeth that slid over his human set, long and razor sharp, the longest at the four corners of his smile. The better to eat me.
The most miraculous part of the transformation was the muscle that grew rigid and strained beneath his skin, stretching him outward, turning the arms that held her knees to stone. And his cock was one of those things hardening and enlarging, pushing deeper without a flex of his hips. The better to fuck me.
A low growl rattled in his throat, and for a moment, Emmy had doubts she was really ready for this. Something was wild and primal about that growl. But then his tongue, longer, rougher, swiped along her throat. Her skin grew numb. She relaxed. He’d considered her comfort—part of the man was still inside the monster. Angling her head to the side, she held her breath.
His teeth sank slowly into her neck, burning at first, then he drew, sucking her blood, and pure sensual heat spread from her neck, moving downward and tightening her breasts and belly.
His enlarged cock pushed inside her, pulled out, and pushed again. His thrusts were so powerful her buttocks left the bed with each stroke. Still, he kept a steady rhythm that soon had her wishing he’d move faster, harder, rougher. And she told him so.
He growled in response—the Big Bad Wolf buried between her legs, and she reveled in the power to make him lose control and be the beast for her.
That she could inspire the beast in any man was a revelation.
Thanks for your help earlier this week with deciding which cover we should use for the Viking book. The authors had too many opinions, and I thought, why not ask readers? You tend to make more instinctual choices than we do, because we way overthink. 🙂
So it’s Friday….! Yup. New shorty. This one was in Penthouse magazine! If you look at the Penthouse cover below, it’s the “Raunchy Road Trip.” Such a proud moment. 🙂 And the story has some naughty, light S&M. Remember, it’s free to KU readers and just $0.99 for everyone else. I hope you’ll pick it up. Click on the cover to check it out on Amazon!
The Long Ride Home
Ride along with two soldiers, just returned from war, who find sweet release in the long ride home…
Note: This book was previously published in Penthouse Magazine and the Duty and Desire anthology, but has been revised and expanded.
*~*~*~*~*
Excerpt:
Glancing toward Sergeant Maddox, I noted the hard edge of his jaw, the hand wrapped so tight around the steering wheel that the muscles in his forearm tensed. I didn’t have to crawl inside his head to know he didn’t want me there. So why had he told me to get in?
Was he attracted, too, but reluctant to act on it because he was still my superior? Like I’d ever tell a soul. He should have known me better than that. We’d been through hell together, and yet I’d never presumed on the bond, never asked for favors.
Did he want me to make the first move so he’d know my expectations, know just how far I wanted this to go? I smiled at the thought of all the fantasies I’d stored up over the months. And I was finally here–alone with a man who was still feeling edgy and angry.
Maybe I could help him out a bit. And maybe, he’d see me as more than a fellow soldier who’d shared the bench seat of a deuce-and-a-half truck a time or two. One I’d been driving when he’d had to talk me through a hail of gunfire as our transport convoy had come under attack.
I unbuckled my belt, ignoring his deep frown. I turned in the seat and reached for the buttons of his jacket, flicking them open then parting each side.
He didn’t say a thing, but his nostrils flared, his jaw sawed tighter.
I gripped the front of his t-shirt, bunched it in my hand, and tugged it from his ACU trousers.
His stomach jumped, and he sucked it in, making just enough room for me to get my fingers behind the waistband as I unbuckled, unbuttoned and tugged down the zip.
“Dammit, Hollister,” he said, his voice rough as gravel. “You’re gonna get us both killed.”
“Not if you keep your eyes on the road,” I said, tilting up my chin. Then I leaned over his lap, folded down the elastic band of his boxer briefs and pulled his cock upright.
*~*~*~*~*
The Contest
Leave an answer to the following question in the comments and you’ll be entered to win a copy of any of the shorties in the Amazon carousel below EXCEPT The Long Ride Home. That one, I hope you’ll purchase on your own!
If you wrote a naughty story for Penthouse,
which friend or relative could you never tell?
Thank you to Delilah Devlin for hosting me again today; I’m excited to be back. I figured I’d share something a little different and share our upcoming release, Emerald Keep, available April 8th from Torquere Press.
So first, the little different: the picture above is a lovely boy I found at the Milwaukee Discovery World. They have a neat facility, including an enormous model of the Great Lakes and its weather, but what I truly loved was the aquarium. They have the usual tanks and displays, but they’ve also got an enormous pool you can walk over!
I am tickled that my snap of the giant lionfish, Pterois. He’s a carnivore, folks, that means he’s a terror in the tank. He didn’t randomly eat anybody while we were there, but he prowled around the tank like he was on a mission. I don’t have a camera that’s well-suited to taking tank pictures, but I was able to catch this.
Quick tip – turn off your flash when taking indoor pictures where there’s glass or Lucite between you and your subject. Otherwise, the light of the flash will bloom in the picture and overwhelm your image.
What about you, Dear Reader?
What’s your favorite photographic tip, or your favorite aquarium?
Now, for Emerald Keep. Rachel and I are excited to share that Book 2 in the Persis Chronicles is available April 8th. What’s more, we’re holding a contest! We’ll be giving away a handknit scarf, a hand-crocheted scarf, and some handmade calligraphy bookmarks. We hope you’ll stop by; the official Rafflecopter opens April 1st but if you comment here at Chez Delilah, I’ll make sure you’re included in the drawing – just be sure to leave your email address for me (write the word “AT” instead of the @ symbol).
A. Cathering Noon
**New** SEALED BY FIRE is an All Romance eBooks Bestseller!
The Chicagoland Shifters series:
Book 1 BURNING BRIGHT Book 2 TIGER TIGER, an All Romance eBooks Bestseller!
**Coming Soon!** Watch for Book 3, CAT’S CRADLE, out Summer 2015!
The Persis Chronicles:
Book 1 EMERALD FIRE **Coming Soon!** Watch for Book 2, EMERALD KEEP, out April 2015!
There are all kinds of ways for a man to be a hero. He can save a child’s beloved cat, save a person, save a town, save the nation.
Or … he can save a woman from self-doubt, uncertainty about her attractiveness, her sexuality. He can show her that she’s worth his time, his closest attention. That she’s worth breaking down barriers between them to worship her body and her soul the way she deserves.
Great sex is about risk. Daring to trust another person, or persons, with our deepest desires. Trusting that they not only won’t ridicule us, but that they will concentrate on fulfilling our dreams. Showing us that it’s perfectly okay to cherish that secret wish … even if it is a little kinky.
I wrote the Club 3 BDSM series to portray strong men who dare to give their all to special women struggling to break free of their pasts, and bloom into their most passionate selves. Not that these men don’t issues of their own to break free of–that’s part of being human, right? Nobody said a Dom has to be perfect. But he does have to be a hero, a sexy one.
And if he’s a cop who’s made a career out of keeping his town safe, that can’t hurt, right? Unless he must do anything to keep his public and private lives separate. Then being a Dom and being a hero may be polar opposites.
Here’s Club 3, Bk. 4, She’s Worth It All…
He’s a hometown hero with a secret. She has a broken heart only a strong man can heal. Will he risk everything to show her she’s worth it all?
Mase Barnett is a cop, a hero who nearly died to keep his small town safe. The eyes of his hometown are always on him. But he’s also a man with a dark secret—one he takes across the river to the big city. Inside the private walls of Club 3, he’s free to be what he is … a Dom. And a man who likes it hot and public.
After the highly public breakup of her marriage, Natalie Cusco is back in town, but not everyone is happy to see her. She just wants to keep her head down while she makes a new life for herself, running the bar that’s her dream. Now if her tormentors will just leave her alone …
She yearns to give this hero what he wants—her body and her submission. But will the brash, cocky cop help mend her damaged heart or break it again, this time forever?
Here’s an excerpt …
‘So here she was in the inky shadows of the back porch, with one last drink and some country singer urging her to put her party light on. Natalie grinned wryly to herself. She was lit, floating on a warm buzz. Not drunk by any means, but not completely sober.
Still leaning on the railing, Nat moved her hips to the music. She’d just give herself a minute before she rejoined the party. She’d chat and laugh like she was having the time of her life. Maybe that would make it come true. Self-fulfilling prophecy, like the pop psychology articles that her mother swore by.
And she would not think about Mase. Jeez, she really would swear she could smell his woodsy scent back here.
“Now that’s a fine sight,” drawled his raspy voice behind her.
Nat continued to move, putting a little extra shake and shimmy into it. Because he could look, but after ignoring her all evening, he sure as heck wasn’t touching.
“Nothin’ to say, Natalie?” he asked, his voice closer, and warm with amusement.
“Yeah. Bite me.” She ignored her shiver of awareness at his nearness and took another drink.
He laughed, a low, infectious sound. “Baby, I thought you’d never ask.”
His bare arms brushed hers, his skin warm and smooth as he planted his hands on either side of her on the railing and leaned over her. “Don’t stop dancin’ on my account.”
“Wasn’t going to,” she retorted, still moving as if her ass wasn’t rubbing against his jean-clad groin and thighs, hard and warm. But it was, and oh dear God, was that—?
Yup, it was. Mase was hard as a pole. The stiff shape in his pants generated heat she could feel through layers of clothing. He had a woody—for her.
Guess she’d get to tease him a little. Payback was suh-weet.
“Keep on moving. That’s good.” His voice echoed her thoughts as he leaned even closer. A thrill of sheer lust shot through her as his warm lips and sexy ‘stache brushed the shell of her ear. Thank God she’d tucked her hair back. Wait, no. That was bad. She was teasing him, not the other way around. Only he didn’t seem to get that.
“I loved watchin’ your sweet ass in motion,” he went on, in that lazy drawl. “It feels even better than it looks.”
It took her a moment to answer coherently. Mostly because he was now tracing the shape of her ear with his lips. The soft, moist caress turned her spine and her resolve into hot liquid, like warm jello pouring into shot glasses.
“You c-can’t see anything out here,” she managed. “Certainly not my ass.”
Not when he was so close behind her, and she was arching into him, pressing her jello in his mold. Every time she moved, that long hard shape pressed into the crevice of her ass. So close, so very close to where she wanted it—inside her.
“Wrong. I’ve been watching you move all night.” He nipped her ear lobe, just behind her dangle earring. “If you fuck anything like you dance, a man could die happy.”
She should be indignant that he was speaking to her this way, not smiling to herself. But somehow his words, delivered with rough honesty, were even headier than the alcohol swimming in her system. He found her attractive—very attractive.
“You have a dirty mouth,” she accused.
He flexed his hips, pressing his erection more firmly into the furrow of her ass. Natalie slipped one hand down between her legs to placate the growing ache there. A tiny, sober part of her stood off to one side, eyes wide, shaking her head. Nat ignored the prude. Lot of good behaving had done her. Two years without real sex, that was all.
Mm-mm, oh, right there. Her finger found her clit, already swollen as if it had just been waiting for Mase to show up.
“I do, baby,” he agreed, his mouth moving down to nibble on the hinge of her jaw and the side of her throat. “I have a filthy mouth. And it wants to be right … here.”
He cupped his hand over hers.’
What constitutes a hero in your booki? Leave a comment, and I’ll enter you to win a FREE copy of Club 3, Bk 1, She’s All In.
Brent Archer began writing in 2011 at the nudging of his cousins. His first story sold, and he was hooked! Stay tuned for the May 8th release of his first novel, The Bastard’s Key, the first installment of his Golden Scepter series.
You already know I have a new sexy shorty out (
