Yesterday’s Winner

The winner of the free download of Stone’s Embrace (by random number generator) is…leann! Congrats, leann! Send me an email to arrange delivery of your prize!

Sunday Report Card

This was a much better week than last week. I’m finally thinking I might make my two major end-of-month deadlines, maybe three. I wrote a total of 62 pages on my paranormal for Montlake and my western for Samhain. And I read through 15 firemen stories. I got a little distracted this past couple of days because I wanted to rush thru the pages to play with my dominoes. The Red-Headed Hellion and I are making pendants from dominoes. You can see pics on Facebook. Anyway, they don’t have a thing to do with what I should be doing, but I needed a break—something creative that doesn’t have a thing to do with writing. This week, I hope to reach THE END of the paranormal, then I’ll have to revise, revise, revise! Did I ever mention how much I HATE revisions?

Girls Girls Girls, coming June 21st!

Here’s a snippet from my story, “Marmalade”:

Dressed in a silk robe I’d found on a hook behind the bathroom door, I sat at the breakfast table with Tess. We waved through the window at the men as they climbed into Bob’s Beemer. The men smiled. Greg gave a waggle of his eyebrows, and then they were gone.

When my gaze returned to her, she smiled like the Cheshire cat. “This is nice,” she said peering at me over the rim of her tea cup. “Just us girls. How ever will we entertain ourselves?”

I bit the corner of my lip, a blush beginning to heat my cheeks because she looked like a movie star, and her robe had parted, revealing a deep, luscious décolletage. I had a weakness for lovely bosoms, something Greg indulged with the porno flicks he brought home, featuring generously endowed women.

Tess set her cup in her saucer and leaned over the table. “Do you mind doing something for me?”

My glance darted up from her chest. Since Greg had been so adamant about his suspicions, I already had an inkling what would happen this day. I nodded, hoping my husband hadn’t been dead wrong. “What do you have in mind, Tess?” I asked, keeping my expression open and innocent.

Her lush mouth pursed. “I thought we might get to know each other. You’re really very lovely. So petite. I couldn’t help noticing. Do you mind opening your robe, my dear. I’ve been dying to see your breasts.”

I cleared my throat. “My breasts. You want to see them?”

“Yes, dear. Now.”

My nipples tingled, beginning to slowly ripen. “Um, is my husband’s job at risk?” I asked, my voice small and breathy. I glanced up from beneath my eyelashes, letting her know this was part of the game, something that pleased me, pretending reluctance because I wanted my sexual partner to be in charge.

Her mouth twitched then flattened. Her chin rose to a haughty angle. “You don’t have to do a thing, my dear. However, you should know that when I’m pleased, so is Bob.”

“Oh,” I sank my teeth into my lower lip and let my gaze slide away. Then holding my breath, I leaned back in my seat and eased aside the lapels of the floral silk robe, one side at a time, holding the belt closed to preclude a view of anything farther south. The lapels framed my breasts. “They’re small,” I said, feeling like I should apologize.

“Your nipples aren’t.” She rose in her seat and reached across to tug on a lengthening stem.

I hadn’t expected her to be quite that bold. I drew in a deep, jagged breath. Arousal bloomed, dampening my pussy and likely leaving a wet spot beneath me. By her hard challenging stare, I didn’t think she’d mind.

Her fingertips tightened painfully on my nipple, and she pulled, drawing me off my chair and around the table until I bent over her, breasts level with her mouth.  She turned her seat to face me, then leaned forward and tongued the other nipple which already protruded.

Everything was happening so fast, all I could do was react. All thoughts of how I must look or sound flew out of my head. I gasped and whimpered as she twisted the one nipple and lavished its twin with succulent tugs and wicked flicks. My nipples drew tighter, dimpling, the tips elongating. Glancing down, I loved the way her mouth sucked on one of them like a straw, drawing so hard I felt the pull all the way to my cunt. I grasped the arms of her chair and arched my back to thrust my breasts closer, mashing the one she suckled against her face.

Her chuckle was muffled and dry. When she pulled back, she raised a brow. “It’s quite warm in here. You don’t really need that robe, do you?” she said, pinching both my nipples hard.

I glanced out the window, at the long manicured lawn and the lakeshore that rimmed the edge. There wasn’t a soul around to see me as I eagerly shimmied out of the robe, letting it puddle on the floor behind me. I clasped my hands in front of my pussy, assuming a modest stance.

Her gaze raked my body, lingering on my pussy before coming back to my face. “You’re pretty. I can see why Greg dotes. Do you lead him around by your pretty cunt?”

I was shocked by her words, but not disgusted. Pleasure melted from inside me, glazing my inner thighs. “I like him taking the lead,” I said softly, then even softer still, I added, “I like it even better when he forces me to do…things.”

She nodded crisply and let go of my tit. Her back stiffened as she faced forward again, pushed her dishes away, then tapped the table top in front of her. “Lie on the table, legs spread in front of me. I like a little marmalade on my muffin.”

Dazed by the hard, commanding note in her voice, I found myself backing up to the table, giving a little hop that jiggled my buttocks. Then I lifted my legs and scooted toward her. Centered, I peered at her set expression through my parted legs and placed my feet on her chair’s armrests. Her features remained neutral, her eyes narrowed. Not until I was staring at the ceiling did I realize how eager I was, how completely and deliciously she dominated me.

Cool gel landed on my mound, and I glanced down to where she spooned apple jelly onto my pussy—two large spoonfuls, which she proceeded to distribute with her long, tapered fingers. Sticky jelly cooled my swelling outer lips.

“I like that it’s bare,” she said, her voice uninflected. Then she bent and stuck out her tongue to lick at the mess she’d made. “I love jam on a hot, toasted muffin.”

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Seeds of Inspiration

First, let me take a moment to thank Ms. Delilah Devlin for inviting me to guest post on her blog. I cannot express enough my gratitude for her selfless support for those of us striving to amp up our writing successes. You’ve made all the difference, Delilah, and you are much appreciated.

Now, what I thought I’d talk about today are those triggers that spark our story ideas. So many times readers express their amazement on how writers come up with all these great story ideas.

I’m not sure why it baffles them so much. You’d think real life wasn’t strange enough to provide an endless stream of ideas. Really?

Anyway, I thought I’d throw a few of mine out there, and then maybe you could add some of yours. If nothing else, it should be entertaining. If we’re lucky, this conversation will spark something in those of us searching for our next great seedling.

My current WIP began when I watched a Sunday afternoon Lifetime Network Movie about a girl who pretended to be pregnant for a school project. Lately, the notion of broken couples reuniting has been a burning theme in my soul. Thus, Parent Project is born. This one’s still in the early stage, but you can probably imagine where I’m going with it.

Shaken Vows merely began with a brief conversation between our hunky sheriff and my husband at the gas pump while I sat in the truck observing, and conjured up all kinds of possibilities.

On another occasion, for hours I stared at a white page on a pathetically blank screen. Nothing seemed to be working that day. So, I thought about the books I’ve read, and what made the exceptional ones memorable. Searching through my bookcase, I pulled out a novel that I remember had brought me great joy. This was when they used paper with the printed words on the pages. Ancient, I know.

The scene opened with the hero walking in on his fiancé in bed with another. So, sparked Reckless Dreams. Of course, it’s my own story, with a completely different plot, but the seed came from one of my favorite novels.

Then, of course, we had a fire next door. A boatload of hunky firefighters, cops, and other officials came to the scene. Before the embers burned down, Familiar Flames began germinating.

That’s enough about me, and mine. How about letting us know what sparks your ideas. Who knows, it could boost those creative juices in all of us.

Hope you enjoyed my post, and I look forward to hearing what you think.

Thanks again, Delilah, for having me. It’s great being part of your circle of friends!

Please come visit me anytime at my place. I would love to have you:

Joyce
http://joycepalmer.net

Thanks to Delilah for inviting me here today. I admire her so much. She not only writes a lot of books, she writes damn good books.

I just started a new series, Miracle Interrupted, and the first story, MUST WORSHIP CATS, is a novella that introduces the village of Miracle, Wisconsin, with a population of 629. Some of the quirky people of the town are introduced as well. It’s all in a cat’s point of view, so there are no sex scenes. But in the next story…

STARDUST MIRACLE is a contemporary with magical elements. There are a few sex scenes on the tamer side, but at one time I called it ‘the penis book,’ because I used the term so often. The frequent use of the word wasn’t on purpose. It just came up. (Pun intended.) It starts when the heroine, Becky, catches her minister husband with another woman.

I just counted and I used ‘penis’ 12 times and ‘erection’ 5 times. I’d changed some of the ‘penis’ mentions to ‘erection’ during a revision, because I really don’t want everyone to think of it as ‘the penis book.’ I’d much rather them think of it as the book they loved and can’t wait to read the next story in the series (which will be out in July).

Here’s an excerpt from STARDUST MIRACLE that shows the first ‘penis’ scene after Becky bursts into her husband’s office at church, with the intention to surprise her husband:

Sitting on his couch, wearing only his white shirt, Jim stared at her as if she were his worst nightmare. So did Diana Kellman, who wore nothing, her brunette head lifting from his lap. Her fingers wrapped around his erect penis.

Becky put her hand over her mouth. She wanted to puke. She wanted to scream. She wanted to cry. But all she could do was stand there, a long, low moan ripping out of her throat. The sound of an animal in pain.

“Becky.” Jim put his open hand on Diana’s head and shoved her away from him. Diana fell on her butt on the gray and blue striped rug that Becky had found for Jim four years ago at an estate sale in Wausau. Diana squealed as Jim grabbed his pants and stood.

“It’s not what it seems.” Jim held his pants over his penis. As if Becky hadn’t seen it before.

Becky welcomed a hot rush of whirling anger. No, not anger. Fury. She took a deep, shuddering breath. The excitement was gone. The moan gone. The feeling that she’d been stabbed in the heart… Gone.

“You mean you weren’t getting a blow job?” she asked, and her voice only shook a little. She glanced at Diana, who was scrambling to her feet. Becky turned her head away and spotted Jim’s cell phone on his walnut desk. Instead of running out of the office, she crossed to the desk.

“Please, Becky,” Jim said. “We can talk.”

She heard the clink of his belt and without even thinking, as if something from above guided her, she picked up the cell phone, clicked on the camera, and whipped around, holding the phone like a weapon.

“Becky, no!” Jim shouted, one foot raised to put inside his pants leg, his penis not erect anymore but not completely flaccid, hanging in a curve like a tired rubber hose.

Diana was bent over, reaching for her panties, her butt toward Becky, but at Jim’s shout she glanced behind her.

Becky snapped the camera.

I hope you enjoyed the excerpt. I’m curious. What would you do if you walked in on a scene like this?

One commenter will win a digital copy of STARDUST MIRACLE.

Edie Ramer
http://edieramer.com

I’m on a roll with tons of pages to write today. So I’ll keep it simple…

If you were given a $100 gift certificate to spend in any store,
where would you chose to redeem it and on what?

Evelyn is the winner of the free download. I’ve sent Kathleen her email address!
Thanks everyone for playing! ~DD

LET’S TALK CHOCOLATE

Delilah, thanks so much for inviting me to stop by your blog today. I’m excited to be here! I think we all agree that it goes without saying that Delilah is a master (mistress?) when it comes to erotic romance. Unfortunately, I can’t say the same about myself. I concentrate on Women’s Fiction, and you’ll find my books much tamer than Delilah’s. In fact, I only recently lost my virginity (when it comes to blog-writing, that is!).

Fatty Patty is my debut novel, released on May 15^th. Patty Perreault is the overweight heroine whose childhood nickname was Fatty Patty. Though she’s now an adult, Patty still remembers the cruel childhood taunts from the very same school playground where she’s now a teacher. The novel deals with Patty’s struggle to confront her self-esteem issues, put down the fork and give her heart a try. But poor Patty has a real problem with food… specifically, chocolate.

So, let’s talk chocolate. It’s like a wonder drug, a magic elixir that tastes great. Chocolate soothes. Chocolate calms. And chocolate can also magically add an extra layer of fat to your thighs overnight. Believe me, I know what I’m talking about. When I was in high school, I weighed 300 lbs. People back then said ‘You carry it well’, but I suppose that’s because I’m 5’11” and the pounds were spread over a larger frame. But facts are facts, and the fact is that for years, I wore size 28+ pants. I lost the extra pounds more than thirty years ago, and now easily fit into a size 10. How did I do it? I loved chocolate so much, I decided I’d be better off if I gave it up for good. But it wasn’t easy saying goodbye to one of my favorite foods. According to my research, chocolate is the number one food American women crave. Chocolate stimulates endorphin production, triggering happiness and pleasure. It also contains serotonin (an anti-depressant), theobromine and caffeine (stimulants), plus it’s loaded with antioxidants (protecting against aging).

Here’s a little excerpt describing some of Patty’s inner turmoil when it comes to dealing with chocolate.

EXCERPT FROM FATTY PATTY:

I don’t drink, I don’t smoke, I don’t do drugs. If chocolate is like a drug, I probably qualify for Chocoholics Anonymous. But first, I’d have to be willing to give it up. Which I’m not. I’m not an addict. Besides, everyone deserves a treat now and then. And I’ve been good for so long—how many days now?— and I’ve only lost four pounds.

Tyler offering me that cookie on the playground earlier this morning started the ball rolling. All day long, I couldn’t let go of the thought of chocolate. And instead of hitting the pool on my way home from school, I detoured to an out-of-the-way party store on the other side of town where I grabbed a six-pack of my favorite candy bars. Why? There’s got to be a reason. But at the time, I didn’t want to think about the why. I didn’t want to think, period.

I just wanted the chocolate.

The first candy bar was gone as soon as I hit the car, before I even fastened my seatbelt. I barely tasted it as it slid down my throat and it only whetted my appetite for more. I ripped into the lush caramel and rich dark chocolate of the second one as I nosed the car out of the parking lot. I gnawed through the third wrapper with my teeth as I pulled into traffic.

And now that Priscilla’s finally off to bed, the other three are waiting.

I creep up the stairs, school bag in hand, and slip through my bedroom door. I throw the lock, then flop on the bed in the darkness. Moonlight filtering through the window is my only witness as I peel the wrapper off the fourth candy bar, settle back in the pillows and savor the lush sweetness filling my mouth. I’ve deprived myself far too long. The second gooey bite is even better than the first. Chocolate bliss. I’ve died and gone to heaven.

Polishing off the fifth candy bar takes a little longer. The craving is gone and I force myself to finish. I’m in no rush to unwrap the sixth candy bar. My stomach feels queasy. Maybe it would be better to stash it somewhere and save it for later. But if I don’t eat it now, that one last candy bar will be staring me in the face tomorrow morning… a big gooey reminder of what I’ve done. I rip off the wrapper and stare at the chocolate. Tomorrow, I promise myself. Starting tomorrow, I’ll put myself on a brand new diet. Starting with breakfast.

Food. Ugh. My stomach lurches and I drop the candy bar. My breath reeks of chocolate and I stumble into the tiny bathroom off my bedroom. I use my toothbrush like a weapon, attacking the enemy sugar on my teeth, scrubbing away the contraband. I swish water back and forth under my tongue, around my teeth, spit it in the sink. Somehow I find the courage to face myself in the mirror. It’s not a pretty picture. Hollow, bloodshot eyes; mascara staining my face. I don’t recognize this person.

What is wrong with me? Why in God’s name did I do this? What happened to my resolve? What happened to my dreams of being thin?

What would Nick think if he saw me like this?

No more chocolate. Never again.
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Yesterday’s Winner!

The winner (by random number generator of the free download of Handy Men is…#6: Nina! Nina, send me an email to arrange delivery of your prize!

Sunday Report Card

Not a stellar week. I completed two chapters on my paranormal story and one chapter for the Samhain Western. I put together the After Midnight Fantasies newsletter and participated in a “Live Chat with the Pros” for ERWA. And I’ve been working on promo for my upcoming releases, She Shifters and Cowboy Lust.

This next week, I need a minimum of 4 chapters’ progress on the paranormal. Three chapters on the western. If I don’t, I have to do the walk of shame, because I’ll be boxed into a corner with my deadlines. So send those positive thoughts!

Sneak Peek at Fournicopia

First, isn’t it the greatest title ever?! How about this logline?

Here’s what happens when a cop meets the doughnut girl of his dreams…
and she’s a Domme…

Did it make you smile? Intrigue you? Then it worked!

How about this cover?

Not the handsomest guy, but I love that he looks like he’s surrendering to her. That’s what Gus does in this book. Want to meet my boy? Read on…

Unedited excerpt from Fournicopia:

Gus Taggert knew it was a cliché. A cop in a doughnut shop. The officers waiting for him to arrive for the sergeant’s morning meeting didn’t like making the run because of the inevitable roll of the eyes or smartass grin they’d get standing in line.

However, he didn’t mind being the “doughnut guy”. The plus for being the brunt of any jokes was that he ate for free. That was okay with him. He took any pointed looks or lame jokes in stride. He was an affable guy. Hard to rile.

He’d learned long ago to stifle his anger and look for the good in people, even when they messed up. Being oversized and strong, he’d always had to be more careful throwing his weight around. People could get hurt, and that wasn’t why he’d been drawn to law enforcement. He wasn’t a bully in a uniform.

Gus liked being a cop. Liked what it stood for. Loved the dark navy uniform and the camaraderie of his brother cops. He didn’t mind that his closest buds were all moving on to bigger and better things. He liked being a beat cop. Liked patrolling the neighborhood he lived in and getting to know the people he protected.

His father had been a small-town cop, and his father before him had been the sheriff of their little Arkansas berg. But then his mom had moved to Memphis—not because she’d wanted to, but because when his mom and dad divorced, she’d wanted to start fresh where everyone didn’t know her business and didn’t whisper to her ex about who she was seeing next.

Gus had missed his old school and friends, but had a natural gift for making new ones. That he was big and brawny, quick on his feet despite his size, had made him a natural for the football team.

And that’s where he’d met Jackson Teague and Craig Eason, who surprisingly enough wanted to be cops, too, when they graduated.

They’d all gone to college together, applied for the police academy and been accepted. That’s where they’d met the remaining members of their current posse, Beau McIntyre and Mondo Acevedo.

So, Gus was never lonely. He had his peeps, a job he loved, a city that kept him on his toes. And today, he was on his way to explore a new doughnut shop.

Mondo, although now in vice and no longer attending the station-house morning meetings, had given him a roll of bills the night before. “Treat the guys to doughnuts. On me.”

Gus had glanced at the roll. “This is too much.”

“Not for the place I want you to go.”

He should have known from the gleam in Mondo’s dark brown eyes that something was up, but Gus liked to think the best of people. Maybe Mondo really did just want to treat the guys to something special.

Well, it was special all right. Not like any doughnut shop Gus had ever seen before. He stood on the street in front of the small store front, eyeing the painted glass window with its pink awning, and felt the first rumbles of misgiving.
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Many years ago, my family went on a ski vacation to Breckenridge, Colorado. Between Denver and Breckenridge is a small town by the name of Idaho Springs. There’s not much there and it’s perched on a steep hillside, but the history of the town fascinated me. It’s an old gold mining town where miners came to sell their gold, bed a whore (women were scarce), and buy supplies they’d carry back up in the mountains.

In 2010, my husband, daughter and I returned to the gold mining hills of Colorado for a four-wheeling trip through the old gold mining ghost towns up around Silverton, Colorado. So many abandoned towns and mines dot the hillsides. It’s amazing. If you haven’t been, put it on your bucket list, it’s a must.

In the BOUND AND TIED print anthology releasing June 1 at Samhain Publishing, my stories HONOR BOUND and DUTY BOUND are based around Idaho Springs in the 1860’s when the gold rush was in full swing. The third story in the series takes one of the characters back east to another romantic historical place that has fascinated me all my life…the Mississippi River during the era of steamboat transportation.

The stories were fun, the characters funny, sexy and heroic. I hope you enjoy reading about them as much as I enjoyed writing them.

BOUND AND TIED

by Myla Jackson

They say bad luck comes in threes. Love just might prove “they” are wrong.

Honor Bound
On the run from an Indian captor, Honor is hungry and desperate. Yet when she stumbles upon two men touching each other in a scandalous way, she’s mesmerized—and aroused.

Gold prospectors Zach and Jake can think of only one way to silence the panicked little thief’s babbling. Kiss her senseless. Then show her that pleasure isn’t necessarily the devil’s work.

Duty Bound
Desperate, KC appeals to a sensual stranger, Rosalyn, to teach her the womanly skills to make a deal with the devil. AKA Jake—the man who holds the marker on her family’s ranch.

Jake has a better idea: her for the ranch. Then reality sets in, leaving him saddled with a mail-order bride, a deflowered virgin, and an unexpected desire to make things right with KC…forever.

River Bound
When Rosalyn steps aboard the Marie-Dearie, she unexpectedly meets James, notorious bounty hunter and old lover…who’s only too happy to help her find her murdering, thieving fiancé.

Convincing James he’s innocent is easier for Dalton than winning Rosalyn back, because she seems to be enjoying the competition for her affections a little too much. There’s only one place to work out this dilemma. In bed.

Product Warnings
 This title contains hot ménage a trois scenes, man love, bondage, females out to settle a debt right proper, a woman with bordello-bawdy desires, and a whole lot of lovin’!

Samhain

Amazon

 

About the Author

The YOUNGER sister of the queen of the sex scene, DELILAH DEVLIN, the equally stupendous MYLA JACKSON pens wildly sexy adventures of all genres including historical westerns, medieval tales, romantic suspense, contemporary romance and paranormals with beasties of all shapes and sizes. When not wrangling words from her computer with the help of her canine muses, she’s snow-skiing, boating or riding her ATV. To learn more about Myla Jackson and her stories visit her website at www.mylajackson.com. Also see Myla’s romantic suspense alter ego Elle James at www. ellejames.com