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Archive for March, 2017



Cornelia Amiri: St. Patrick’s Day and Irish Romance (FREE READ)
Thursday, March 16th, 2017

Hi everyone, my name is Cornelia Amiri, and since St. Patrick’s Day is tomorrow, and I am known as the Celtic Romance Queen, I felt it was the perfect day for an Irish-geared blog post. As you know, on St. Patrick’s Day, at least in the United States, anyone who doesn’t wear green gets pinched. But you may not known that it was King Tighernmas (Teernmas) of Tara, who brought the color green to the emerald Isle. Through trade with the Phoenicians, he obtained dyes to create green, yellow, and blue and introduced those colors to Ireland around 1620 B.C. in the timeline of Bronze Age Ireland.

I wrote a historical/fantasy/romance set in Bronze Age Ireland, in 660 BC, called Queen of Kings. It is about Macha Mong Ruad or Macha of the Red Tresses. She was the only woman listed as a High King of Ireland.  Marking off the borders with the pin of her cloak brooch, Queen Macha laid the foundation of the Royal Palace of Emania also known as Emah Macha, where the Kings of Ulster ruled from for six centuries.

To celebrate St. Patrick’s Day, Queen of Kings is free at Amazon from today to March 19th.

 

As wild, strong, and beautiful as the land she rules, all men lust for her, warriors and kings bow to her might and magic, but one champion comes forth with a white bull and true love.

Excerpt:

It was night, her element. For as there were the dark gods of the moon and the sea, so there were the bright ones of the sun. She was dark. Her gaze fell onto the distant plain where she had raced with Nath earlier in the day. Though clouded in darkness now, she thought of the lush green grass that blanketed the earth. The deep, dark soil, firm and solid, sure, constant, dependable. She turned and gasped. Nath had come upon her, silently. He stood there at her side.

“I did not mean to startle you, my queen.”

His nearness was overwhelming. She cleared her throat, pretending not to be affected. “Not at all.”

But she couldn’t tear her gaze from him. Fiery sun, bright and hot, big and bold. Everyone wanted him to shine on them.

“The druid thought you would be out here.”

“The druid knows me well.”

When the rays of the sun touched the rich earth, they created the lush peaceful green pasture. She needed him, the sun for her earth. They completed, they belonged together, dark and light, earth and sun, Nath and Macha. The druid knew it, and druids were never wrong.

He looked up and her gaze followed his. The pearl moon gleamed, smooth and perfect against a clear, ebony sky, twinkling with countless stars.

“Dark, sparkling, vast and enchanting,” Nath rasped.

“Yes, the night sky is lovely.”

“I did not mean the sky, my queen.”

A twinkle of moonlight caught her eye as she gazed at him. His eyes alone could set her ablaze. Fire danced in her. “I need to speak with you.”

“Yes, your majesty.” He leaned closer to her.

“Nath, what is it you want of me?”

*~*~*~*

I hope you have a happy St. Patrick’s Day.

Here is a link to the pinterest board on Queen of Kings:
https://www.pinterest.com/corneliaamiri/fantasy-ancient-historical-romance-queen-of-kings/

And My website http://CelticRomanceQueen.com

Jennifer Weaver: A Writer By Night…
Wednesday, March 15th, 2017

By day, and many times at night, I’m a freshman composition professor. That means that I spend my days trying to teach bored, hung over, homesick 18-year-olds about grammar, arguments, and research. Then I go home, read their papers, and realize that almost no one in class has listened to a word I said.

But in my dreams, at night, I’m a writer. It’s my secret passion – one I don’t discuss with my colleagues at the university. Why? Because I don’t want to write the next “great American novel,” I want to write a romance novel. And I don’t even really aspire to be the next Nora Roberts or Janet Dailey (or Delilah Devlin). I just want to write a book that people who don’t personally know me will enjoy.

Well, a few years ago, my (sometimes) sweet husband told me to “put up or shut up” about the book I had been working on for 10 years. He gave me a summer to finish it and told me that if I didn’t at least finish the first draft that summer, I could never complain about it again. It was the scariest summer of my life. But I wrote. And I wrote. And I wrote some more. And by the time my first draft (and the summer) was finished, I had a romance novel that was over a hundred thousand words. I had done it. I had written a romance novel. Now, I hoped that he would leave me alone and I wouldn’t have to actually DO anything with it.

Yeah, not so much. Because my not-sweet-anymore husband won’t shut up about doing something with it. So I’ve been forced to draw upon my other life, my composition professor life, to figure out what to do next.  And so starts my journey back to my 18-year-old college freshman self. I know the process that’s necessary to improve writing – I just didn’t realize that it would be so hard to practice what I teach.

The first thing I did was find a writing conference. There are great ones all around me, but I never knew it. I ended up in Madison, WI, where I learned that everything that I was doing was wrong.  First, my novel is too long. When I arrived at the conference it hovered somewhere around 101,500 words, but it should be less than 85,000 words. Then, I should have been part of a critique group, but I was never a “group” kind of writer. And finally, I never should have booked pitches so soon, but I did. But since I was there, I figured I’d practice what I had just learned, and so I pitched to two different agents and they each expressed interest in reading my writing – if I knocked down the word count.

So, it’s back to my roots. Write, revise, edit, and peer review. Writing is a joy. Revising and editing, even though it sometimes causes me physical pain to delete my words, is something that I have trained for my whole life. But peer review, which my students hate and I emphasize constantly, is my Achilles heel. Every two weeks I hand another chapter of my novel off to three people I have never met and wait for their comments. Every two weeks I wait nervously by the computer to get the email that says “here’s your critique,” and then my heart races as I open the attachment. But every comment helps – the good, the bad, and the ugly. Even those people who consistently hate my writing are helpful because they are helping me prepare for editors and agents who are going to feel the same.

So what does all of this mean? It means that every day I get closer to having my dreams become my reality – even if I have to face rejection and criticism along the way. And even better – closer to having my husband stop nagging me!

Jennifer Weaver
profjenweaver@gmail.com

A Question…
Tuesday, March 14th, 2017

It’s chilly outside! I know because last night my dd called me at 11:30 to say she couldn’t sleep. The neighbors dogs were barking incessantly, and she was anxious, checking the doors and windows. I bundled up and walked over to sleep with her. This morning, I escaped the craziness that is getting three school-aged kids ready and out the door. Brrrr, the walk back in the dark was cold, cold, cold!

So, let’s keep this easy. Here’s a question for you to ponder. You know you have pet peeves. Think about just one…

What particular personal habit do you find intolerable in other people?
What makes you nutty when you see it?

Perfect Puzzle for a Rainy Day…
Monday, March 13th, 2017

The weather here is lousy with rain. Makes me want to wrap myself in a warm afghan and sip tea while I work on a little puzzle. If you’re feeling the need to nest too, try this puzzle. Have fun! And remember, yesterday’s contest is still open. Enter for a chance to win a free story! ~DD

The New Release…The Contest…and The Question!
Sunday, March 12th, 2017

UPDATE: So, the winner is…Debbie Kolins!

* * * * *

The New Release

Just a quick reminder! I do have a brand new release! If you love lusty, sexy stories with plenty of BDSM and menage interplay, well, this one’s right up your alley! Just click on the cover here!

The Contest

Leave a comment—an answer to the question below—for your chance to win one of the following recent releases…

Bad, Bad Girlfriend Ride a Texas Cowboy Truly, Madly...Werely (Night Fall Book 9)

The Question

If a TV show that’s been off the air for a while could have a reunion show,  which one would you love to see back?

Just Out — Begging For It!
Saturday, March 11th, 2017

You know I have this great big backlist of books I have to republish. Begging For It is one of them. I’ve been hunting for artwork like a crazy person, spending way too much time looking through pictures for things that might suit my stories, or could be massaged in some way to work, and then I found this picture, and it’s absolutely perfect just the way it is.

TJ’s not a submissive looking for a Dom. She’s a woman who needs pain to get off, and who better than a Dom to do it? There’s plenty of kink inside this story. Plenty of angst, too, because you know she has a problem that causes her to be the way she is. Best part of the story? Cross, my Dom, who’s fated to be with TJ in ways she won’t fully understand until the end. I hope you’ll pick up a copy this weekend. I’d love to hear what you think!

Begging For It

She needs punishment…before she deserves pleasure.

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

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

Get your copy here!

An excerpt…

“Have you and Tanner been friends a long time?”

“Long enough.”

She swirled her hips to wet the tip of his cock. “He the guy you had fuck my mouth last night?”

“Yeah, does it bother you, putting a face to the dick?”

A shallow pulse forced him inside an inch. “Yes, I didn’t want him last night. I wanted your cock.”

“I was a little busy giving you what you really needed.”

He said it in a gruff, masculine tone that clued her to the fact he was just as tightly wound as she was. She pressed down, taking the cap inside another two inches. Her thighs flexed, and she fought the urge to shove downward. She wanted to savor the stretch—this fuck had been a long time coming. And because she was a little annoyed that he’d made her wait, she asked, “Do you like fucking?”

His smile was a quick, tight flash. “One of my favorite things to do.”

Her nipples were hard, aching, but she resisted the urge to cup them. She wanted his hands there but wasn’t able to command him. Her voice would lack strength. She feared he’d laugh if she tried because she shook with need. “Why didn’t you take me? You knew I wanted you to do it.”

“I told you, baby. It was about you. What you needed. And I wanted to build your trust.”

She came up but missed the solid heat of him filling her and pushed quickly down again, taking him deeper. Sweet Lord, she was wet. He slid inside with a succulent sound. “You don’t need my trust. Not for this,” she said breathlessly. “You can have me. Have me any way you want, so long as you do one little thing for me. You know what that is.”

“Have you any time?” he asked, his lips pulling away from his teeth. “More than just today?”

She shook her head but dug her fingers into his chest as she gave him another shallow stroke. “Don’t go getting possessive. I don’t need promises. You don’t want mine.”

“You don’t want to see me again?”

Her mouth gaped as she slid down a little farther, almost dizzy with relief, feeling as though every inch she consumed deepened their emotional connection. She shook her head, waging an internal battle for control. “I don’t want to make plans. Don’t want promises,” she lied. “But I wouldn’t mind you knocking at my door some night.”

His jaw flexed. “For a quick fuck but not a date.”

“This isn’t good for you?” She was wetter now, and the glides were faster, getting deeper, her breaths shortened, and her face flushed with heat. His strong hands took some of the burden from her straining thighs.

“This isn’t enough for me, TJ,” he said, slamming her down his cock now. “I want the whole woman.”

She slowed, shuddering hard. “That’s the problem,” she said, smiling with tears in her eyes. “I’m not whole.”

His palms slid up to cup her breasts, gently kneading them. “Tell me, sweetheart. Tell me why.”

She blinked away the moisture. “Just be quiet. Please.”

His lips closed, forming a thin line.

Closing her eyes to his disapproval, she continued to rock, but even though her body melted all around him, even though arousal curled inside her, she knew her limits. Her thighs gave way, and she sank against him. “Cross?”

“Open your eyes when you speak to me.”

A shiver hit her hard at his change of tone. She gave him a glare but knew the corners of her mouth were pulling downward, and that her bottom lip was trembling.

“What do you need?”

Her shoulders fell. Her head bent. “For you to take over. For you to punish me.”

“Do things my way?”

She nodded.

“Will those legs hold you up if I tell you that you have to stand?”

She nodded again then gave a little gasping hiccup. She hated being so needful, so out of control. He’d think she was a complete basket case, but maybe that was already too late.

His hands cupped her ass, and he lifted her. His cock slid from inside her and bobbed against his belly. “Go stand under the hooks.”

Her nipples spiked. Fluid dripped from inside her, and he knew because a fingertip followed the trail. He brought her moisture to her mouth and painted her lips with her own arousal.

TJ moaned and leaned down to kiss him.

His hand fisted in her hair to anchor her close, and his lips roamed over hers, rubbing hard, before he pulled her hair to raise her head. “Go now,” he rasped.

Even though she trembled with need, she pushed off him and slid from the mattress. The bed groaned behind her. His footsteps shadowed hers.

When she stood beneath the hooks, she raised her arms obediently and let him close the padded cuffs around her wrists. With her now secured, he walked to the wall and pulled down a handle to an apparatus where the ends of the chains were wrapped around a small wheel. He began to turn it, tightening the sturdy linked chain above her until her heels left the floor.

“Higher,” she grated out.

“You want to be stretched? Like the girl at the club?”

She nodded, and he winched her higher until she swayed on her toes.

“If this gets to be too much, if your arms go numb, you’ll tell me.”

She nodded, but it was a lie. Numbness would be a blessing. Pain would be rapturous. Already she felt a dull ache swell in her shoulders along with the lump burning the back of her throat.

Cross went to the dresser and pulled open a drawer. Poised on her toes, she peered down to see an array of implements. He picked up a flogger but discarded it. Then another. He drew a finger across the suede leather ends then glanced up at her. “I’m in charge now.”

She nodded, even though he hadn’t worded it as a question. Licking her bottom lip, she whispered, “Yes Sir.”

Anni Fife: Things to Remember When Writing an #Erotic #LoveScene
Friday, March 10th, 2017

I think writing erotic love scenes that don’t make our readers cringe with embarrassment are very challenging. I liken them to filming exquisitely sensual sex scenes. In order to make them appear sexy and seductive, the director has to film a million controlled takes. And they definitely are not sexual for the actors participating in them. But when they get it right, the end result is worth every take. Likewise, to make written love scenes authentic, you have to expose your inner woman, that part of you that is most private and vulnerable. Not easy!

Here’s a small look-see at my approach.

My characters have to stay in character.

If my hero is an ex military fighting-fit alpha protective male, I can’t have him turn into a polite metro-sexual lover who says penis instead of cock or dick, because dirty-mouthed bossy men may freak me out. That’s not going to cut it. Likewise, if said alpha stud makes my heroine’s thighs quiver with desire, I have to let her admit to it, embrace it, and relish it. Holding onto any socialized primness will most definitely kill the mood. This might sound obvious, but when you’re writing erotic love scenes with explicit descriptions, it’s not. Because I not only have to tap into my own sexuality, I have to put it out there for my readers to see.

Arms and legs have to stay where I put them.

Overthinking body positions can lead to reams of unsexy explanations. Just picture how she went from kneeling on the bed and slipping off her bra, to lying, legs spread, against the pillows. Or how he went from lying on top of her, to lying on his back with her astride him. Visualizing it is sexy-hot. Writing it can be sexy-not! It may sound weird, but trying to describe, in the shortest and most sensual way possible, the movement of an arm or a leg into a position where it can add to the erotic scene, can be decidedly unsexy. Limbs have a tendency to get in the way, not to mention the occasional instance when a third arm pops into the picture—and I’m not talking ménage here! So, if I don’t want my readers to burst out laughing, or turn the book upside down like a roadmap, trying to understand how he could be cradling her face with both hands while stroking her butt as well, I need to take care to count my limbs!

Finding the line between erotic and pornographic.

This is a tough one because I think it differs for everybody. My mantra is to be true to myself, and true to the love story. The focus is always on emotion, not sex. When he pulls off his shirt and she touches his ripped chest for the first time, how does her heart react, her mind? What is she feeling? When he spreads her legs, and dips his head to taste, is he driven by lust, or a need so primal that if he can’t have her, his soul will wither and die? With every touch, I try and make sure their emotions spiral higher. I take every expletive, every explicit description, and carefully wrap it in the language of love. Because for me that is what is at the core of an erotic romance—the story of love.

If you want to see if I’m getting it right in the love-scene department, why don’t you read my newly released novel, Luke’s Redemption. It’s a contemporary romantic suspense—erotic!—and I’m delighted to say that it’s already receiving 5-star reviews from popular bloggers. However, one of my favorite reviews is from an Amazon Reader: “Whew! Honestly one of the sexiest books I have read. This book is like a really good thriller that surprises you on Sunday night TV: you start, next minute you are hooked and stay up way past your bedtime to see how it ends. And those steamy sex scenes… yes.”

Luke’s Redemption

Chased by her criminal kingpin father, Katya Dalca runs to New Orleans and straight into the arms of Luke Hunter. Sucked into the carnal world of the French Quarter, she succumbs to Luke’s potent sexuality. He not only steals her breath, he steals her heart, and the only leverage she has against her father. She’s left with no choice but to pick up the pieces and rebuild her life alone.

Undercover DEA agent Luke Hunter thought his newest assignment—recover a stolen flash drive to gain the trust of the Russian mob—was like any other. But his target brings him to his knees, and after one taste of her intoxicating beauty, he’s in too deep. Doing his job means walking away, leaving his heart behind with nothing but a promise to reunite. It’s a promise he can’t keep.

When Katya’s past reaches out and her world unravels, her only hope is the one man she is most vulnerable to—Luke.

EXCERPT

I snuggled deeper into the cosy bedding, lazy and heavy-limbed. Shifting slightly, warmth spread through me as the slight stickiness between my legs brought with it delicious memories of the night before. I never dreamed that I could be so wanton, so wildly desperate for one man’s touch.

And boy, did he touch! His potency evident in every aching muscle in my body.

Mmmm. Heat flickered as his musky scent infused my senses.

“Katya.”

I loved his voice. Especially when he said my name, so deep, rich like dark molasses.

“Katya!”

I forced my lids open. And drowned in sensual, male beauty. “Hi,” I purred. And it was a purr. I sounded like a sated cat. Inching a hand out from under the covers, I reached up, hungry to stroke his rough morning stubble.

He reared back as if stung.

What?

My hand hovered midair as he lowered himself to a chair that was pulled up close to the bedside.

How did that chair get there? Was he watching me sleep?

Sluggish, I looked at the window. The curtains were drawn together but didn’t quite meet. Faint light trickled in. It was barely morning. I looked back at Michael and cold started to seep in. Shit. He was fully clothed, he was even wearing his jacket. Only his hair looked out of place. He obviously couldn’t find the cord that I’d enthusiastically pulled from it like a wild woman, and now it hung loose to his shoulders. Bed-hair. Do men get bed-hair?

He was still. Hands clasped together, elbows resting on his knees. Here, but not here. Only his eyes flickered as they roamed intensely over my face. Such wickedly, beautiful eyes. After he came inside me they had turned an inky-blue, almost black.

Now, they were deep shards of navy. And they sent ice cascading through me.

I was still naked and he was fully clothed. I jerked upright and pulled the covers to my chin. My stomach quivered, only it wasn’t in a sexy way.

BUY LINKS

Amazon.com – http://a.co/iplcQ4N
Barnes & Noble – http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/lukes-redemption-anni-fife/1124824689?ean=2940156958900

Luke’s Redemption is also available from Kobe, Bookstrand, iTunes and The Wild Rose Press. All these Buy Links are available on Anni’s website: http://annifife.com/

About Anni Fife

Anni Fife left a successful career in television to fulfill her lifelong passion, writing. In the space of one month, she shut her business, packed up her city life, and moved to a small seaside village to begin her new life…as an author. LUKE’s Redemption is Anni’s debut novel. Anni loves spending hours on the beach searching for pansy shells, more hours drinking red wine with her gals, and the most hours writing steamy romance novels filled with hot alpha men, and the sassy intelligent women they can’t live without. Coming soon, GRAY’s Promise.

You can read more about Anni on her website, and join Anni’s Posse to get regular updates and Bonus Treats—www.annifife.com
Or LIKE Anni on Facebookhttps://www.facebook.com/AnniFifeAuthor/
Or follow Anni on Twitter—https://twitter.com/AnniFifeAuthor
Amazon Author Page— https://www.amazon.com/author/annifife
Goodreads— https://www.goodreads.com/AnniFife