UPDATE: The winner of the free story is…Donamuree Holmes!
* * * * *
I’m writing like my hair’s on fire today—head down, fingers a-flyin’! Hope you have a more restful Saturday! 🙂
Post a comment today, and you’ll be entered to win a free download from either my Lone Star Lovers series or my Triple Horn Brand series! Here’s the question…
If you could acquire any fictional item for realz, what would you want and why?
Not so easy right? Do you choose Harry Potter’s cloak of invisibility so you can stalk your favorite movie star without being detected? (I have no clue why that popped into my mind first—cough, Chris Hemsworth naked in the bath!) Or how about Sherlock Holmes’ pipe? (I want whatever he was smoking!) And there you go. Have fun!
And just a reminder, I do have a sexy, new story out there right now…
Jackson Lowry cussed softly when he spotted the blue lights spinning at the roadblock just ahead. Too late to turn back now. He’d only draw more attention.
Squaring his jaw, he rolled down his window and forced a polite smile as he peered into the darkness at the sheriff’s deputy checking IDs with a flashlight.
As soon as the deputy waved the car in front of him to move along and turned to watch the black pickup roll forward, Jackson’s tension eased a fraction.
Maynard Colby’s expression turned from crisply professional to worried in a second, as soon as he recognized Jackson. “Dammit, Jackson, where have you been?”
“Around. Why?”
A soft moan sounded beside him, and Jackson reached surreptitiously beside him to tap the tarp covering his precious load.
“You didn’t hear?” At Jackson’s vague expression, Maynard stepped onto the truck rail and leaned toward Jackson. “It’s Sammi Jo. Her car was found in Shooter’s parking lot, the door wide open. No one’s seen her. Looks like she’s been snatched.”
Jackson cleared his throat. “How serious is this gettin’?”
“It’s only been a couple of hours, but Sammi Jo’s daddy is buckin’ to get the sheriff to call in the FBI, the CIA, the ATF—and whatever other agency his money can buy to find her. I tried callin’ you, but your phone kept goin’ to voicemail. After the way things went down at the weddin’ last Sunday, I don’t blame you a bit for layin’ low, but I thought you’d wanna know.”
Another sound, this time a snort, sounded beside him.
Maynard’s gaze cut to the dirty tarp folded over a moving bundle on the floor of the cab. A ruddy eyebrow shot up. “What’s goin’ on, Jackson?”
Jackson rolled his eyes then pulled up the corner of the tarp to reveal a bound and gagged Sammi Jo whose eyes glittered furiously back at both men.
Maynard barked a laugh then tightened his lips. “This time you’ve gone and done it, boy. This is seriously fucked up.” He laughed again, then tipped his hat to Sammi Jo. “No disrespect meant, missy.”
Jackson cleared his throat. “Don’t s’pose you can forget about this?”
Maynard’s gaze shot to Sammi Jo again, raked her once as though ensuring she didn’t look to be in any real danger, then tipped back his cowboy hat. “Tell ya what. I’ll put a bug in the sheriff’s ear, but she better come walkin’ through the po-lice house doors come Monday mornin’.”
“Not a word to her daddy?”
One corner of Maynard’s mouth crooked up. “Man’s already caused enough problems. Deserves to cool his heels a couple o’ days. Don’t do nothin’ I’ll have to arrest you for.”
With a nod, Jackson rolled up the window and pulled past the barricade. In his side mirror, he watched as Maynard crossed to the other deputy’s car and both men bent over laughing.
“See that, Sammi Jo?” he murmured, not expecting an answer because he’d made double-damn sure he’d tied some serious knots and gagged her pretty mouth. “I’m not the only one who thinks you need a good paddlin’.”
*~*~*~*~*
If you’d like to check out more of my recent short story releases…
I’ve been writing paranormal erotic romance for several years. My heroes and heroines have been werewolves, vampires, dragons, angels and demons. This year, I’ve added a mountain cat to my list of shifter characters.
Mountain lion, cougar, puma and catamounts are common names for the big cats native to North America. The large cats are fierce predators. They hiss, growl and scream. They are tawny in color, resembling a lion. My heroine is a Catamount, the name shortened from cat of the mountain.
I like cats and creating a cat shifter heroine is exciting. Big cats are sleek and powerful, agile and quick, quiet and elusive. I like those attributes in a heroine.
Shifter characters have features, abilities and attributes beyond a human. A cat shifter has fur, fangs, whiskers, tail, paws and claws. A shifter characters has two forms, the human and the paranormal. The essence of the character lives in both forms. While in human form I want my shifters to exhibit the abilities of his or her animal form. My werewolf shifter has an extraordinary sense of smell, my dragon shifter blow smokes and my cat shifter purrs.
In my new series, Thunder Wolves, my shifter characters live in a world shared by humans. My hero is a werewolf. Werewolves and mountain cats are natural enemies and usually avoid one another. The intense mutual attraction between my hero and heroine defies the accepted rules of their shifter worlds.
I like breaking the rules.
The first book in my Thunder Wolves series is Thorne, a story about my werewolf hero falling for Madison, a human empath. The second book, Clay, introduces Kissa, my mountain cat heroine.
Thunder Wolves: CLAY
Kissa Troy mistakenly believes she’s safe in her identity as Beth Smith. No one knows she’s a mountain cat shifter and hiding from the Catamounts, a dangerous shifter cult. One day, a sexy alpha wolf walks into her life. Shaking off a determined wolf isn’t easy. When she’s tracked down by the Catamounts, Kissa turns to the wolf for protection.
Wolves and mountain cats are natural enemies, but all it takes is one breath and Clay Thunder is hooked. The sex is hot. The attraction is undeniable. She may be a cat with trouble on her tail, but she’s the one.
Still. A wolf and a mountain cat?
Excerpt from Clay
Beth. Her life was a lie. Another reason not to get involved with Clay.
He held out his arms. “I promise not to bite.”
She wanted to be held, to lose herself in his arms, to experience passion, to feel alive. Would a couple of hours in his bed prove more heartbreaking than satisfying? He waited until she stepped toward him. He was warm and she found comfort in his strong arms. Kissa inhaled, slowly, deeply. Her blood sang.
Clay cupped her face in his hand and ran his thumb over her lower lip. She knew he wanted to kiss her. A smart cat would move away, but she was caught in the spell of his scent. She lifted her chin, offering her mouth. The moment his lips touched hers, she was on fire.
He didn’t grope her or pull at her clothing. He simply kissed her, slowly, thoroughly and that was her undoing. Her blood burned. Her heart pounded. Her pussy throbbed. She was lost. Her doubts slid away and her fears were overpowered by desire.
Clay lifted his head and took a deep breath. “You feel it. You smell it. It’s more than arousal.”
“It just pheromones. Physical chemistry.”
“It’s stronger than that, but you didn’t want to go out with me. Yet, you called. What made you change your mind?”
“Wolf. Cat. Had to think about it.”
“But that’s not the reason you called.”
“I like your scent.”
“I like yours, but it wasn’t arousal I smelled when you climbed on my bike. I know the scent of fear.”
She stepped out of his arms. “You know how to ruin the moment.”
“I want the moment. I want it bad. What are you afraid of?”
Kissa hated to lie, but her life was series of false identities and phony backgrounds. Using the wolf for a few hours was bad enough. Dragging him into her troubles was unforgivable. The Catamounts would kill him for giving her shelter.
“There have been break-ins in my area. I thought someone was in my apartment, so I got out of there.”
“Why didn’t you go back to Murphy’s?”
“I thought about it, but I was curious about you. So I called.”
Clay pushed his fingers through her hair and cupped her head in his hand. “You’re safe with me, Beth.”
Safe. She had begun to believe that true safety was an illusion.
“If you don’t want to talk, fine, but don’t lie to me.”
The wolf was too perceptive. He wanted the truth. “I’ve never been with a wolf. It should feel wrong, but it doesn’t.”
A smile teased his lips. “I’ve never been with a cat.”
“What should we do?”
He slipped his hands around her waist and drew her close. “Satisfy your curiosity.”
*~*~*~*~*~*
B.J. McCall is published by Changeling Press, eRedSage, Cobblestone Press and Ellora’s Cave. Her books are available at Amazon, Kobo, B&N and Are.
Once upon a time a directionally impaired author got lost in her own city. Since she’d forgotten her phone, and her vehicle pre-dated the existence of onboard navigation, she was forced to resort to the age-old method of finding her way home: asking for directions.
She pulled up at an unremarkable, shoebox-shaped building in a commercial district at the far edge of town. Pen and paper in hand, she pulled open the heavy metal door and stepped into a land plucked from her wildest fantasy.
OK. Maybe it wasn’t quite her wildest fantasy, but for the sake of keeping this PG-13, we’ll pretend that it was.
No, friends. She did not behold unicorns and rainbows, rivers of chocolate, or lollipop trees. There were no castles, fairies or handsome princes on white horses. Nor were there big couches surrounded by piles of books and waiters bearing snacks so that books could be read start to finish without interruption.
However, there were fighters. Lots of ‘em. Enough for her to share with all her friends, if she had been the sharing type. Which she wasn’t.
So entranced was she by the sea of glistening pecs, hard abs, taut bottoms, and tight shorts, that she barely registered her surroundings. There may have been carpet on the floor. It may have been brown. The gym may have smelled strongly of stale sweat and the florescent lights above her head may have flickered, bathing the gym in a greenish glow. She also may have licked her lips and tasted pure liquid desire. But who really cares about scenes and settings at times like these. Not her.
“Um…hi.” She spoke with the eloquence of an author who has mastered dialogue technique while wishing she had written herself some new clothes. Maybe not her husband’s plaid lumberjack shirt and those leggings that shrank two inches above her cankles the last time she put them in the wash, which, now that she thought about it was two years ago. And damnit. Sure those Birkenstocks were comfortable, but HELLO. PEDICURE. Overgrown toenails and chipped polish were just so passé.
Six shaved heads jerked up. Six tatted and ripped bodies turned in her direction. Twelve eyes (most in pairs) studied her from beneath the fringes of lashes.
She put one hand on her hidden muffin top, and one on her head, pretending to be toying with her hair while tugging out the pony tail holder and simultaneously smoothing the frizz.
“I’m lost.”
And just like that, she was sucked into the vortex of an alpha-male testosterone frenzy.
Her fairy godmother appeared and she dropped twenty pounds, lost the grey and her clothes were magically transformed into skin-tight gym-wear that showed off her taut, honed body. The fighters attacked each other, trying to prove themselves worthy of helping her find her way home.
Soon (but not soon enough for her) only one fighter remained standing: the dominant alpha male. He stalked across the gym and pulled her against his hard, sweaty body. Then he leaned down and sealed his mouth over hers, claiming her with a punishing kiss that took her breath away (as punishing kisses from alpha males often do).
“Mine,” he growled.
And they lived happily ever after.
OK. Maybe it didn’t happen that way. Maybe a skinny teenager at the front desk let her use his phone to check out the best route to get home.
But, damn. It gave her a good idea for a series about sexy alpha male fighters and the women who capture their hearts.
And really, in the end, it’s all about the story.
FULL CONTACT, the third standalone book in my Redemption erotic fighter romance series, is available now, and Ray “The Predator” Black, the ultimate alpha male, is awaiting your pleasure.
Ray wraps his arms around me and holds me tight as if something terrible has happened and he doesn’t want to let me go.
Full Contact. This is how Ray speaks when his emotions overwhelm him. I melt into his stillness. His body is hot and hard, his breath warm on my neck. He smells of leather and sweat, sex and sin. Nothing can tear me away.
When you can’t resist the one person who could destroy you…
Sia O’Donnell can’t help but push the limits. She secretly attends every underground MMA fight featuring The Predator, the undisputed champion. When he stalks his prey in the ring, Sia is mesmerized. He is dominant and dangerous and every instinct tells her to run.
Every beautiful thing Ray “The Predator” touches he knows he’ll eventually destroy. Soft, sweet and innocent, Sia is the light to Ray’s darkness—and completely irresistible. From the moment he lays eyes on her, he knows he’s going to have to put his dark past behind him to win her body and soul.
The Redemption Series Against the Ropes
In Your Corner
Full Contact
Excerpt:
Except for the White Buffalo’s cover of “House of the Rising Sun” playing in the background, there is no sound except the rasp of Ray’s breath as his chest rises and falls under my hand. Although I’ve done shoulder and pec tattoos countless times, the intimacy of this position sends a shiver through my body. Longing grips me hard and fierce, and I scramble to regain some semblance of control. Maybe a little conversation.
“So, did you catch your bad guy?”
“No. Still after him.”
When I look up, Ray is watching me. He is so close I can see the stubble of his five o’clock shadow, the thickness of his lashes, his eyes deepening to an azure blue. I force myself to look into them and swallow hard. “Everything okay?”
Apparently not. Jaw tight, muscles quivering, he captures me with his glance. “Your hair.”
I give my head a slight shake and my ponytail swings back and forth. “What’s wrong with my hair?”
“Take it down.” He fingers a loose tendril beside my ear, his authoritative tone sending a wave of heat raging through me. Read the rest of this entry »
{Photo attribution: By CEphoto, Uwe Aranas (Own work) [CC BY-SA 3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)], via Wikimedia Commons}
I want to first thank Delilah for having me on the blog today. I’ve been a long-time fan of hers and this is a very cool experience to be here.
Now about the post. Odd title, eh? I thought it was, but I’m often asked what I’m listening to when I write. I’ve written many different stories with all sorts of themes. So do I use a particular playlist for each book? Or am I a quiet writer?
Neither. Honest.
I used to be the type of writer who needed specific songs for the story for flow. That’s still true to a degree. If I want a certain feel for the story, like tense, then I’ll pick loud music or something that makes me feel tense. If I want romance stuff, then more soft rock.
But as I said, that’s not always the case.
Sometimes I listen to a movie when I write. I can’t see the movie—usually because it’s on my laptop and the document is over top of it—but that doesn’t mean I’m not paying attention. Something about the talking and the white noise soothes me and helps me get into the zone. The Avengers, Captain America, The X-Men, The Beatles’ Help!, and the Goodbye Girl are all ones I’ve used frequently. Something about the movies makes it easier for me to write.
Then there are times when I need music. You’ll never guess the main thing I’ve been listening to lately—instrumental music. Like? Like the music played in the movies. Soundtracks. The tension, romance, action and so forth are all in those songs. I get lost in them. Another thing I love to listen to right now is instrumental big band music from the 1940’s. I guess it’s because those types of songs aren’t played now or maybe because they remind me of my grandparents. I’m not sure, but I do love them. Right now, while I type this blog post, I’m listening to old Glenn Miller songs. J
Now I have a question for you. What gets you in the mood to read? Do you have to have music while you’re reading? (I do.) Or complete silence? What are some of your favorite songs? Let me know. I’d love to chatter music with you.
Here’s a little bit about my latest release, Stealing Home.
Stealing Home by Wendi Zwaduk
Book 3 in the Complicated Series
M/F, New Adult Romance, Contemporary
Novella
From Resplendence Publishing
The last person she expected to fall for her just might be the one she’s been looking for all along.
Bliss McMahon isn’t looking for love. She’s got a degree to complete and a life she wants to live. Besides, love isn’t looking for her. The last and only time she’d tried dating, the whole situation had ended in disaster. Being twenty-one and never going beyond second base doesn’t exactly endear her to the guys, but the one guy she never expected to notice her has. Will she give him a shot or run the other way?
Evan Phillips has a way with the ladies. He can charm them just as easily as he hits homeruns, but this ballplayer has a problem. He won’t be able to pass art history without help. Enter Bliss. Sure, he’s dated her roommate, and yes, Bliss can’t stand him, but he’s not about to back down from the challenge of getting her help. She’s spunky, out of his league and just who he wants. Can the ballplayer convince Bliss he’s up for more than one inning or will she forfeit before the game begins?
He’s ready to steal home in order to win the woman of his dreams.
Warning: Contains a dangerous combination of fragile new love, bone-deep angst and desperate rivalry that will consume you with throbbing, out-of-control passion.
Evan steered her to the building’s courtyard. The space, filled with various plants and trees, was meant to encourage the students and to provide a welcoming place to study. With the LED lights draped from the small fruit trees and fake snow surrounding the plants, the space looked festive. The play of light and shadow set a certain mood, especially after hours of activity in the building.
He glanced over at Bliss. A smile curled on her lips.
“What’s on your mind?” Evan slowed to a leisurely pace. “You ran away from me yesterday.”
“I’ve got lots on my mind.” She sighed. “I’ve got a couple of finals coming up, I don’t have a place to stay and I refuse to take incompletes because of my living arrangements. Does that work for you?” Read the rest of this entry »
I’ll admit it. I’m shallow. Show me warm colors and a pretty man holding a whip and wearing a cowboy hat, and I melt like butter. So when I found this photo, I had to have it for the cover of the short story I’m releasing this coming Friday (or sooner, depending on Amazon—I’ll let you know).
I know what The Runaway Bride is all about, but I’d love to hear what story this picture tells you. Doesn’t have to be a story. It can be one scene. It can be a line of whatever she’s telling him as he gives her a hard or hot stare. It’s your story. Have fun.
And if you decide to play, there’s a reward—for one lucky person, anyway. I’ll give the winner a free copy of The Runaway Bride.
Can you keep a secret? I can. The first novel I wrote, For All to See, I kept secret from everyone—except my husband, mom, and grandmother—until I typed THE END. So, maybe I can’t keep a secret. Darn it.
And here I am again, sharing my secret. You see, I never though this book would see the light of day. Not because the story wasn’t great, but because—even though I’d written one—I knew zilch about writing a novel.
I discovered I had to share my secrets to learn and grow as a writer and person. You know the old adage, “Nothing ventured, nothing gained?” We still use it for a reason. It’s true.
Five years, two writing groups, five classes, hours of research, six novels, eight short stories, one novella, and two re-writes later Madelyn’s story of tribulation and triumph is ready for readers.
“Nothing ventured, nothing gained.” You don’t have to tell me your secrets, but tell someone who can help you on the path to your dreams!
For a chance to win a digital copy from one of my backlist titles…tell me…in a no limits world what would you love to do? If I could do it well, I’d sing all day every day. But this isn’t fiction. If I did, someone would have me arrested for disturbing the peace.
FOR ALL TO SEE
Bureau Novel 1
Pristine waters and purified evil.
Two by two, dark-haired beauties vanish only to reappear as hanging, plundered corpses. The Virgin Islands boast diamond-white beaches, lush green mountains, a rich cultural heritage—and a brutal killer.
Three years on the “Field-Dresser” case and Special Agent Nathan Brewer is days away from catching the bastard—if he can convince a certain brunette to trust him. Only the woman is more likely to take a casual stroll on the surface of the sun.
After fleeing her troubles in the United States for the quiet life of a school teacher on the island of Tortola, Madelyn Garrett never imagined she’d be fixated upon by pure evil.
In a fight for her life—with a dwindling number of friends—she must rely on her cunning and Nathan’s skills for survival.
The tough-as-titanium woman placed her hand in his as though she were as fragile as fine China. A primal need to shield her from harm thrashed its way to life, annihilating every reserve he’d clung to over the past few days. Some things weren’t worth fighting. Fighting the need to possess Madelyn was like wrestling a hurricane. He battened down and dug in the best he could. When that didn’t work he ran like hell. But one gust knocked him flat on his ass. One wave swept away the world he’d known. And he was done fighting the one woman who could rearrange his priorities.
Hand on the grip of his gun and the other wrapped around something far more dangerous, Nathan led the way to her Jeep. They rode in silence for a while. The echoes of their argument rang in his ears. He’d pushed her, but no further than she could handle. But now her head sagged against the leather rest. “I’m—”
“Don’t you dare say you’re sorry,” she interrupted.
Still tough.
“I was going to say, I’m thinking steak for dinner.”
I hear a lot of complaints from bloggers and reviewers about “cliffhanger endings” and books that don’t work as a standalone. I sympathize, of course. Myself, I’m in a constant state of briny froth about what might happen next on the TV show Vikings. But the other hand, as an author, I know all too well why some books just never end. Let me tell you a little story to illustrate:
Like a lot of indie authors, I also publish books through traditional publishers. For me, I focus traditional publishing on my YA books. So I published two books from a series a few years ago and I had a third book sort of mapped out in my head. I knew what kind of trouble I was going to get my rather troublesome heroine into, but I hadn’t quite worked out how I would get her out of trouble – that would work itself out in the first draft.
I called my editor at the publisher just wanting to run a few things past her and she gave me the bad news that they didn’t think they would go ahead with a third book in the series. “Marketing, money, sales, format but we’d love to see what else you have…blah blah blah”. All I heard was the plaintive weeping of my heroine. I literally thought “What am I going to tell her?” I had gotten her into a mess and now I would never get her out of it. It was like she was trapped. Days went past where I existed with a kind of constant sense of doom, worrying about her as though she was my own child.
It was weeks before I could even write anything else. I wanted to continue her story. When you spend two books with a character as their author they become part of you. My heroine is only seventeen when the second book ends. What‘s to become of her? Will she get through high school without getting suspended again? Will her relationship succeed? Will she ever make that trip to New York she’s been so looking forward to? If I don’t write her story I might never know. Only in writing things about the characters I love can I fix their destinies. Without my intervention, anything could happen – good things or awful things.
Even when I write books that are neatly tied up at the end with a satisfying and believable happily ever after I find the world I’ve created continues churning along. In Electrify Me, which ended with an HEA for the two leads, there was a small character called Levi. As I read my final draft I thought “He seems a little tightly wound up. Maybe he needs a holiday”. That holiday became Objectify Me. In Objectify Me Levi’s best friend Buck obviously has a slightly worrying drug habit. Buck is going to get himself clean in Purify Me, the next novella in the Fireworks Series. Will it ever end? Maybe not.
Small characters may seem inconsequential to readers, but to authors they often have complete backstories as well as just as many hopes and dreams as the main characters. Unless I kill them off (which is often a temptation) their problems become my problems. And sometimes they get their own whole book. Furthermore despite our best efforts in tying up every loose end even for our main characters, sometimes “happily ever after” is actually “happily until something horrible happens and then we start all over”.
So when you’re getting frustrated about a book that ends on a cliffhanger or a series that never seems to end, spare a thought for the author. If you want to know what happens next to a beloved character all you have to do is buy the book and read it; we have to write the darn thing.
I like cats and creating a cat shifter heroine is exciting. Big cats are sleek and powerful, agile and quick, quiet and elusive. I like those attributes in a heroine.
