A note, first. I spent the night at my daughter’s last night. We were playing with our new Razr phones, adding apps, battling Angry Birds, when the first message popped up about Whitney. Both of us were saddened. The Red-Headed Hellion was a huge fan. I remember her dancing in the living room as a very little girl with karoake mike in her hand, singing, “I wanna dance with somebody…”
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Chirping Like a Bird
Music means a lot to me. This morning, I wanted a reason to smile. I dare anyone who watches the video to not be twittering like a bird after watching this video.
We’re hoping to snag tickets today for Tom Petty’s concert at the Verizon, April 12th. Regina’s opening for him!
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Sunday Report Card
This was a more productive week than last week. TG!
1) I have something in the works for Ellora’s Cave. Another My Immortal Knight. I have new covers for books 2-4 that I hope will attract new readers to the series, because I want to continue visiting that world. The first thing is a repurposing of a quickie I self-published. My freaky little succubus story. Following that will be the completion of Viper and Mariah’s story. Yay! Viper’s been waiting for an HEA forever!
2) I submitted a paranormal story that’s half-written to a publisher. Witches, demons, a bit of police drama in the mix. Cross your fingers!
3) Lastly, I am nearing the end of Dragon’s Desire. I hope to finish it up in the next couple of days. Since it’s a straight-to-Kindle project, it won’t be long before you can read it.
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Remember, The Believe Fairy Contest continues! Be sure to click the link for the rules! And post a comment to enter! Ciao, for now!
Enjoy an excerpt from an oldie set in a cold, cold place. The setting’s perfect for the pair you’re about to meet. I used a Russian Fairytale, a little Norse myth, and stirred it in a bowl together to come up with this odd little fairy tale. 🙂
“…ARCTIC DRAGON is a captivating fairytale…”
4 Kisses, Two Lips Reviews
“…Delilah Devlin is an awesome author who knows how to get a reader’s attention and keep them coming back for more…Ms. Devlin has written a fantastic story that explodes right off the pages…”
5 Angels & Recommended Read, Fallen Angels Reviews
Headstrong, and seeking a little respite from a suitor’s relentless wooing, Queen Larikke rides the arctic wind far beyond the bounds of Northland, only to have her horse bolt at a shot from a hunter’s gun. Her “rescuer” is a handsome, mysterious man who lives alone in the wilderness, his cabin filled with erotic images of women.
Rather than fearing her fate, Larikke sets out to seduce him, hoping for one last fling before she settles down to do her duty and wed. Thinking he was saving a life, Drake dragged a very strange woman home, stripped her, and warmed her by his fire. Now he finds his long, self-imposed isolation may have made her allure impossible for him to resist and that he’ll endanger her when he shares his special kiss.
A blanket of fresh powder muffled his footsteps. For a moment, the bitter cold wind died down. The stillness invited him deeper into the clearing. Something in the air alerted him, an intuition that was part of his true nature told him to wait.
Wind had blown snow against large tree trunks, forming deep banks where the tall green sentinels stood close together. Everywhere pure, pristine white dusted the tops of branches, cloaking them in rich, thick wonder. Precious sunlight peeked from behind a dark gray cloud and refracted like a billion tiny prisms on frozen crystals that gilded the uppermost layer of the snow.
His breaths seemed loud, intrusive and he concentrated on being quiet so that he didn’t disturb—not that anyone was would hear him this deep in the wilderness.
Rather, all was hushed, expectant. Quiet like he preferred now. Content at last with his own company.
The first few months had been the worst. The silence had nearly driven him nuts. Now, he barely noticed. Sounds other than voices, the hum of electricity or the roar of a passing engine were replaced with softer, more predictable ones—the rustle of pine needles as a breeze swept through outstretched branches, the resonant creaking when snow weighed the branches down. The rustle of animals as they scratched in the snow for food.
The voices inside his head had also faded. The strident ones that had called him a freak and the startled screams—well, they couldn’t reach him here.
If he missed the company of a woman—so be it. Other parts of his existence flourished in the solitude. Almost filling the aching void. The decision he’d made had been the right one. He’d spend the rest of his life—however long—alone.
Do no harm.
He lived by that rule now. At least in regard to people.
For now, he had a stew pot to fill, and he’d tracked a lone deer through the forest to this spot. A soft snort, and he found the doe digging with her hooves to uncover whatever she could still forage beneath the snow.
Drake tugged off his mittens and raised his rifle, setting the stock snug against his shoulder. He had the doe in his sights and slowly pulled back on the trigger, when an unexpected tinkling sound, like bells carried on the wind, drew his attention. His gaze strayed for only moment. As his attention returned to his quarry, a sudden icy wind swept up snow, obscuring his view.
The shadow of the deer still in his scope, he pulled the trigger, jerking the barrel upward at the last moment when he realized he wasn’t looking at a doe at all—but a woman on a bay-colored horse! Read the rest of this entry »
Ladies, I will be rich and sell many books and win tons of money and have love. Bethea and other physics said so. Really. Cool, huh?
Bethea emailed me one evening and said she awoke from a sound sleep thinking about me. She was dreaming about me, yeah, me. I thought for a minute she knew something I didn’t, maybe that I was naked and… Nope, she saw me deliriously happy with all the money I could want, even better. She saw me in love, too, with the perfect man. Now I don’t know about you, but that sounded wonderful to me!
Hmmm, I wonder, why would she dreamed about me, when we’ve never met. She promised me what most of us want, security and love. These seductive promises have been luring folks to fortunetellers and psychics forever.
This woman is good! She has offered me a FREE session and other beautiful totems, some even ancient relics. Well, actually, I can pay for them and she will refund my money if I am not thrilled. She said there were angels watching over me, druid priestesses wanting to help me, and she herself has cast spells for me. BUT there are evil forces keeping me from having the riches I deserve. Well, damn!
BUT, if I send her money to cast a bigger, more powerful spell, she will send me a pendant, or a bracelet, or a statue, or a rearview mirror charm for my car for only $19.99, or $29.99 or $39.99. Hmm, that doesn’t sound free.
Marie the Magnificent, my own personal fortuneteller, said that if I do this, Bethea will have my money and my credit card info, and I won’t EVER see a penny of it, even if I complain. MM suggested that if she had mentioned selling books, we might be inclined to believe her.
Why do I even read these emails? Because I enjoy seeing the predictions that I will have money for all the things I need (maybe a boy toy or three?), that all will be well in the future.
Now, I have a prediction for you. I see you reading Haunting Refrain, a book about a love story in the past and one in the present. Yes, I see you reading the love scenes and sighing or grabbing someone on whom you can try the sexy stuff. I see you straddling a handsome man in the front seat of a Mustang, with the driver’s seat reclined as far back as it will go. I see you riding that man and moaning with….. You can write the rest.
Tell me what you think about psychics and fortunetellers or a story about an experience with one, and you can will a free download of Haunting Refrain. I’ll give away 2 downloads.
“The train wreck of my life boards in an hour. Can’t be late.”
– Megan Carlton, Private Scandal
I love quotes. On Pinterest I have a whole board of them. I love when someone has solidified a feeling so perfectly in words. And who doesn’t love a one-liner?
“Dreams aren’t real until you make them happen.”
– Heather Tindall, Her Cinderella Complex
One of my favorite things to do when procrastinating is checking out what people highlight on their Kindle for my books. Shelfari has an Extras function where I can see which lines resonated with readers. Knowing I connected to a reader in that way makes me think I’ve done my job.
“Love. It is an incredible sensation. An amazing gift. All consuming and yet as light as a whisper. Once you’ve been in love you don’t ever want to find yourself out of it.”
– Lance Strong, Compromising Positions
Most of the time I like it that way, but every once in a while it’s nice to look over and see that I connected with someone, even if only for the length of that one line. I told them a story that they liked enough to find quotable. Or highlightable for the Kindle folk.
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Jenna has new releases for both traditional and e-readers. For Kicks, her business-trip-turns-sexy book, came out a few weeks ago in all ebook formats. Private Scandal, her heiress-makes-her-ex-pay story is available for hand holding now. For more about Jenna Bayley-Burke, check out her website, blog, Twitter (@jennabb), or Pinterest — but her Pinterest has nothing to do with author Jenna, so she cannot be held responsible for pinning addictions!
The Writing Process. It sounds so…ominous. And important. And honestly, I have no idea what exactly it means. What IS a writing “process,” anyway? Is it like…processing cheese, or what?
The obvious answer is, of course, that nope. Writing is nothing like making cheese. At least I assume so, since I’ve never actually made cheese, at least not on purpose. There were a few times when the milk got left out in strange places and we ended up with SOMETHING in the bottom of the cup that looked a lot like cottage cheese…Hmmm. Come to think of it, maybe the writing process is a lot like that, after all.
You put a bunch of stuff in the cup, and you let it sit in a strange place until it curdles and becomes something else.
Like magic!
For me, all books or stories start with a big WHAT IF. Sometimes these are random and meaningless and never turn into anything good. Sometimes I think they’re the best ideas, ever, but they turn out not to sustain a full plot. Other times, these WHAT IF moments are tiny sparks that seem like nothing and turn out to be some of my all-time favorites. TEMPTED started out that way. Just the kernel of an idea — a man in love with his best friend…AND the best friend’s wife. How would that work out? To this day, Tempted is the book I wrote the fastest. It was like a roller coaster. I got on it every morning and I wrote and wrote and wrote, and by the end of the day I was still interested in the ride.
Other times, it’s not so easy. ALL FALL DOWN came about with an idea about what happens to the people who are left behind when a cult implodes. I had a lot of ideas about how the story would go. Who’d be important in it. Subplots. Introspection. As I wrote it, though, the core of the story became more apparent and more important. The ideas I’d had about what being in a cult would mean became streamlined, and I’ll confess, I found a place in which I understood why someone would want to go back to a life most people would consider horrifying and strange, how our “normal” could be terrifying to someone without the ability to process it.
So, I guess that’s my writing process. Start with an idea and stir it up with a bunch of other stuff. See what sticks. Watch what comes out of it. Add different ingredients and let them ferment. Sometimes, boy, do they ever stink. But sometimes what comes out is ambrosia!
If I wanted to explore the idea of a writing process further, I’d have to admit that I do have a technical process. I sit at my computer (or less often, some other location) and I write. I write some more. I break for Twitter and email and instant message and Facebook. I write more. Then some more. When I’m done with that part, I print it out and go over it a few times, making changes. I enter them into my computer document. I read it again. Then again. I tweak and polish and change until I’m satisfied. I listen to music while I write. I drink Coke Zero and coffee and hot tea and pink lemonade. I don’t often switch things up like some writers I know who write in longhand or change their location or work on different projects. My technical process is pretty simple. I sit down. I write. I edit. Lather, rinse, repeat.
Somehow, it seems like it should be more magical than that. Something with elves or something. Fairy dust. Billowing white curtains and ivory candles, my muse trilling gently in my ear while the words trip one by one from my fingertips onto the page…
Now THAT would be a process!
Writers — do you have a process?
Readers — do you have an idea of what a writer’s process is like, or has the internet and posts like this ruined the idea of us slaving away in our garrets by candelight, swilling wine and whiskey and dancing to the tune of invisible voices?
I’ve guested on the great Delilah’s blog several times now, but this is the first time I haven’t had a specific book to promote. Oh sure, I have upcoming releases, but no release dates, blurbs, or excerpts. So I thought this might be a good opportunity to “introduce” myself to you all. Instead of just blabbing about my books, I can blab about myself. Just the fun stuff, though.
For instance:
* I didn’t lose my virginity until I was 19. Does that sound strange for an erotic romance writer? Does it help that …
* I read my first erotica at age 10. That gave me years to fantasize before actually doing the deed.
So back to the virginity thing: I was in college, and totally in love with my boyfriend. We consummated our all-consuming passion, and I assumed we’d get married. Or at least move off-campus together. Later, when he dumped me and broke my heart, I had bitter regrets about making him my first. But I finally had something to write about in my journal, so it was all good.
* About that journal … I have stacks of them, but when I read them over, I notice one strange thing. I seem to have only written in my diary when sobbing over a boy. There are huge, years-long gaps during which, I assume, I was perfectly happy and had no need to vent to a sympathetic notebook. But anyone, reading them, would assume I was an angst-ridden drama queen who fell in love at the drop of a hat.
* I got my first pair of glasses at the age of 9. As I got older, I wanted contact lenses more than I wanted to live, but my parents refused to “encourage vanity.” Guess what my first purchase was when I went off to college? Yep. After the contacts came the guy, the virginity loss, the heartbreak … hm, maybe my parents had a point.
On the other hand, there was that journaling thing … Even though I wasn’t at all consistent in my journal entries, they served a purpose. They got me in the habit of writing to work things out. Whether it was sex or heartbreak, it all went into that journal. Today, it goes into my writing.
* I still get a charge out of seeing the word “cock.” Why is that? I don’t know! As many times as I’ve read it and written it, it still carries that thrilling tingle of the forbidden. Is it just me?
* I had strict parents who cared about my academic performance much more than my social life. Despite that, for me college was a chance to break free, to flirt, to fall in love, to have sex, to experience heartbreak, to really live for the first time. And when it all got too much, I had my journal. (Though I don’t think I wrote the word “cock” until much later.)
So there you have it, me in a nutshell. Journal + sex + heartbreak – glasses + cock – parental control = Juniper Bell, erotic romance author. Nice to meet you!
Juniper Bell’s next release, Beautiful Obsession, takes place at a college, includes diary entries, and features many, many instances of the word “cock.” It’s coming soon from Ellora’s Cave. You can connect with her at her website, on Facebook, or on Twitter as AuthorJuniper.
Do you keep a journal? What sorts of things do you write about?
Bethea emailed me one evening and said she awoke from a sound sleep thinking about me. She was dreaming about me, yeah, me. I thought for a minute she knew something I didn’t, maybe that I was naked and… Nope, she saw me deliriously happy with all the money I could want, even better. She saw me in love, too, with the perfect man. Now I don’t know about you, but that sounded wonderful to me!
Most of the time I like it that way, but every once in a while it’s nice to look over and see that I connected with someone, even if only for the length of that one line. I told them a story that they liked enough to find quotable. Or highlightable for the Kindle folk.
