I’m thrilled to be on Delilah’s blog today. I loved working with her on the latest Boys Behaving Badly anthology – COWBOYS. Writing my story, THE SCOUNDREL, reawakened my love of writing short stories, and I plan to continue writing short as well as the full novels I write for Entangled Publishing, and the series I self-publish.

Early in my career, I wrote a lot of erotic romances. It was ground-breaking back then (God, I feel so old!) and this was long before Fifty Shades. I’m not kidding when I say discovering erotic romance changed my life. I grew up a “good” girl in a rural area. Before the internet, before erotic romance, I didn’t know other women had sexual fantasies. I didn’t know it was okay to fantasize about blindfolds and handcuffs, or of being scared and aroused at the same time, or that pain and pleasure could be two sides of the same coin. I didn’t know it was okay to dream about sexual situations I’d never want to find myself in. Or that it was okay to dream about some I might want to.

I’m sure as Delilah’s readers, you know all about erotic romance and sexual fantasies, and it’s probably hard to imagine there was a time when you had to get your kicks from magazines like Playboy and Playgirl (and you had to gather enough courage to go up to the man at the register and ask for copies that were kept behind the counter) or maybe you could find erotica books like The Story of O or Anne Rice’s Beauty series, but I never read them until I could get them over the internet. But once I could buy an eBook in the privacy of my own home, it was a revelation. Suddenly, I wasn’t ashamed to explore my fictional fantasies, and I felt free to act on some of them, and I could even begin to write my own (believe it or not, it was a struggle for me to even type words like “cock” and “pussy” when I first started.)

I didn’t intend this post to be a history lesson, but just to explain that I will forever be grateful for the authors of erotic romance, and while I don’t focus my writing exclusively in that direction anymore, I will never stop writing it, never stop sharing my fantasies for other women to enjoy. And that is a long, and hopefully thought-provoking lead-in, to my newest release, one of 69 erotic shorts included in Cleis Press’s The Big Book of Orgasms, Volume 2, releasing on February 8^th, and available for pre-order now.

Publisher’s Weekly said “… 69 bite-size stories ideal for a quick, sensual break. Myriad settings—including alien planets, bathrooms, and sex parties—genres, kinks, and sexualities offer a little something for every erotica lover. Standouts include Natasha Moore’s “A Perfect Match,” about a husband who likes to watch his wife with her lover…” My first PW mention! And tons of sexual fantasies to explore.

Contest

Thanks to Delilah for inviting me to share with you today. I’m giving away one digital copy of one of my earlier erotic romance series, Paolo’s Playhouse. Five novellas in one collection that let readers explore several different fantasies.

Comment below for a chance at the giveaway. I’d love to know if you think erotic romance is getting commonplace now. Are readers tiring of it? Do you get enough of the sexy stuff in your other reading? Or do you still look for those stories that focus on sexual fantasies and, through them, give women freedom and power?

Natasha M.

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My name is Raisa Greywood. I write contemporary romance. I waver back and forth between dark and comedy, but hey, life is too short to pick just one! I also write paranormal romance under the pen name Minette Moreau.🐉

A question I’m often asked is, “How/why did you start writing?”

I don’t think I’m unique—every author has been asked this at some point in their careers, and probably more than once. The answers are as individual as the authors.

The how is easy—and incredibly difficult at the same time. One simply parks their backside in a chair and…

Wait! You mean there are grammar rules? What the heck is past perfect and why do I need it? Character development? Plot? Story structure?

Aaaah!

Here’s a Raisa fun fact. Until I was somewhere around fifty years old, I thought the past perfect verb tense was a joke created by my middle school English teacher to torment me.

The why is a bit more muddled. I was teaching high school math at the time, after a long career using numbers in another field. My last formal English class was sometime during the Regan administration. I’ve always been an avid reader though. Romance, fantasy, science fiction, horror… If it was printed between two pieces of card stock, I’d likely read it.

Yep, I was the kid who read cereal boxes.

I remember being delighted beyond words when my father brought home a whole set of very cheaply printed Nancy Drew mysteries from one of his business trips. Those books went from Maryland, to Germany, to Hawaii, and finally to Ohio. Unfortunately, after so much time and so many moves, I’ve lost track of them.

As I got older, my tastes changed, and it became harder to find books that truly resonated with me. When I first started writing, I was a year away from being an empty-nester, and I had my very own happy-ever-after with my amazing husband. More on him later.

Let’s face it. I wasn’t a twenty-something virgin. Heck, I wasn’t that woman when I got married. Even then, I was separated from that archetypal heroine by a decade of experience, relationships, and a career. This isn’t to say those heroines aren’t great, but they weren’t me.

Where was the mature bisexual woman who chose a geeky engineer for her knight in shining… coveralls?

I wanted realistic characters. People of color. LGBTQ+ people. People with scars, damage, histories, and rich backstory. I remember hearing someone say something along the lines of, “Only straight white people get a happy ending.”

Calling bullshit, honey.

I finally decided something along the lines of, “If nobody is writing the books I want to read, what’s stopping me from doing it myself?”

Cue the rabbit hole.

So… I wrote. My first attempts (note the plural there) were abysmal. One was a three-hundred-thousand-word behemoth that shall never see the light of day again. My second attempt is still one of my biggest regrets.

It was a Regency romance with an older heroine, and of course, a handsome duke. The heroine’s name was Miranda. She was wrongly convicted of theft, transported to Australia, and became quite a brilliant pirate before she found her true love. I adored her!

It was a wonderful story, but I lacked the skill to do it justice. I still think about dusting it off sometimes.

Anyway, where was I?

Oh, yes. Attempts. Plural. Every author has a collection of early work. We all look back on them with a mixture of fondness and horror, yet that is how we learn. We practice.

One of my dearest friends from high school convinced me to keep writing, telling me I was good. I, of course, didn’t believe her a bit.

But I kept at it.

And I got better.

I embraced the learning curve. Any skill worth doing is worth doing well.

Then I got good.

Someone commented on one of my books that she’d never laughed so much while reading a dark romance.

THAT is what I want. I want all the dark humor and scorching chemistry. It was as if my skills had finally gotten good enough to communicate my vision.

I’m a USA Today bestseller now. Remember my husband? My knight in shining coveralls? Well, he’s supported me at every step. When his parents threw me shade, he backed me up.

When they said, “It’s a phase,” he said, “Buy a fucking USA Today. My wife is in it.”

I love that man so hard. He’s the reason I do enemies-to-lovers so well. We hated each other in college. I’d like to say I fell in love with him because he’s got romance novel equipment in tight boxer briefs, but it’s really because he’s truly amazing. He’s the man who shovels snow for an elderly neighbor and won’t take money for it and spends twenty years helping with a Cub Scout pack—even though we don’t have boys.

In fact, my first published work was a joke, written for him. He loves space opera, so I wrote him one. He was impatient though and was forever bugging me for just one more chapter.

So, I gave him one.

Our house is two stories with a finished basement. When he got to the end of what I’d written, in which the heroine had faked her own death, I could hear him yell from the upper floor. He now mutters darkly about never reading another living author again.

In any case, my mother-in-law now introduces me to people. “This is my daughter-in-law, Raisa. She writes dirty books.”

I thought her caregiver was going to lose her shit.

Meanwhile, my dear friend—the one who has encouraged me all along—is still writing but is struggling. She received crushing critique from someone who isn’t her audience and doesn’t read her genre.

It’s my turn to encourage her now because I absolutely refuse to let her give up.

So many people have helped me, and the authors I once fangirled over are some of my dearest friends. In fact, Delilah Devlin—the host of this blog—is one of them.

Well, she’s one of the authors I fangirl over. Considering I just got up the nerve to send her a Facebook friend request, I’m not about to be cheeky enough to call her a friend. She’s definitely a colleague though, which is totally cool by itself.

Give me time. Delilah doesn’t know about my seriously epic bar or my selection of yummy snacks yet. I’ll have her in my clutches soon!

Yes, authors are easily bribed with food and booze.

Anyway, I digress. Quite a lot actually.

I digress so much, I had to create a second pen name because I’m constitutionally incapable of being just Raisa.

Raisa writes steamy contemporary BDSM. Minette Moreau writes steamy paranormal. But you know what? No matter who is writing the story, you can guarantee the characters are going to be snarky, sexy, and will love as deeply and as powerfully as they fight.

I’m busy with a literal crapton of projects, but if you want to catch up with me at all the usual places, find your favorite at this convenient Linktree: https://linktr.ee/RaisaGreywood.

Thanks to Delilah for inviting me to her blog, and especially special thanks to everyone who reads.

UPDATE: The winners are Mina Gerhart and Christy Smid!
*~*~*

I’m being lazy! I pieced together this patchwork of covers last week for a contest, and I’m using it again because I’m super busy and don’t have time to be original! Do you care?! LOL!

Contest

For a chance to win your choice of one of the books below,
tell me if you have any furbabies/pets, what kind, and their names—and I’d love for you to say what your pets do for you.

Click on any cover to learn more about the story!

Excerpt from Ride a Texas Cowboy…

The house Katelyn Carter had bought sight unseen was kind of like her—weathered by storms and in need of a lot of TLC.

After a quick glance around the empty road, she set her truck into park and stared down the long graveled drive. She let her eyes blur and tried to imagine how the old house must have looked once upon a time before the harsh South Texas sun had baked its exterior. She wasn’t encouraged. Even seen from behind her dirty windshield, she could tell the one-story ranch needed a lot of work, and at the very least, a fresh coat of paint.

A lone tear streaked down her face, surprising her, and she sniffed. One last cry—she deserved that much. Then no more feeling sorry for herself. She had too much to do and a whole new life stretching in front of her.

A loud honk sounded, and Katelyn swung her gaze to her rearview mirror to find that a dusty, older model pick-up truck had pulled up behind her. She swiped away the tears with the back of her hand, and then stuck her arm out the window to wave the driver past.

Instead, the driver-side door opened, and a tall Texan in faded jeans and a cream-colored cowboy hat stepped onto the pavement.

Katelyn cursed under her breath and quickly tilted down the mirror to see whether her mascara had smeared. She didn’t really care what a stranger thought—that was the old Katelyn. Still, some habits died hard.

When boot steps stopped beside her, she glanced up…and found herself trapped by a moss-green gaze that raised the temperature within her cab a notch. The rest of him was just as captivating. Dark brown hair peeked from beneath his hat. His jaw was angular, his chin chiseled. Shallow crows’ feet surrounded those amazing eyes and crinkled when he frowned—as he was doing now. But they were wrinkles caused by the sun, not the weathering of a few years, like hers.

Damn! Here stood the first man she’d met since her separation who made her think of all the steamy possibilities, and he was too young.

She didn’t realize she’d cursed out loud until his soft chuckle washed over her like a silky caress. Her cheeks flamed instantly.

“Women don’t generally cuss me ’til after they know me better,” he said, his baritone voice thick as molasses.

UPDATE: The winner is…Mary Preston!
*~*~*

It’s early a.m. on Saturday. I have to rise at the butt-crack of dawn for a little quiet! I’m busy writing the book releasing later this month, Eli. Plus, I have three books to edit for other authors. Looooong books. So, I don’t have any time to waste. Did I mention that I started on Weight Watchers on January 1st? So far, so good; I’m down six pounds. And I love the new points system—you know, all foods have certain points and you can only eat so many points a day, blah-blah. If I want to eat something really bad, I can “earn” points by eating my veggies. I can’t tell you how many cans of green beans and spinach I’ve consumed whole to get those extra points!!! I’ve found a recipe for artichokes, sun-dried tomatoes, and fresh spinach that you sauté and toss over spaghetti or onto pita bread that is to die for. And here’s me obsessing over food, again!

Anyway, I released a short story yesterday. It can be read alone but follows my novel, Dark Legacy. Anyway, if you’re looking for a quick sexy read, I don’t think you’ll be disappointed!

After stepping through a mage’s portal with her lover into a distant past, newly Born vampire Natalie Lambert is ready to give Rene Broussard the ultimate bite and make him hers forever. It’s time for this vampire to get her man.

Get your copy here!

This is a SHORT STORY and picks up after the events in my full-length novel, DARK LEGACY.
And it’s FREE in KU! DARK LEGACY is still in KU, too!

Puzzle Contest

To win a $5 Amazon gift card, solve the puzzle and then tell me this…

When the weather’s cold outside, what’s your favorite thing to do?

Happy New Year to you all from Melbourne, Australia, and thanks to Delilah Devlin for hosting my blog.

What’s your favourite time of year? Is it Christmas? Your birthday?

For me, it’s the beginning of a new year. It starts with the magical build-up to midnight that will farewell the old and greet the new. My lovely husband and I get together with my cousin’s family for a night full of excitement and noise. Our lively conversation during dinner centers around the year that has been and what we hope is to come. It transitions into a games night and our competitive spirits come out to play. The husbands get a little merry, the volume increases and there’s always a side-splitting moment that will become folklore for the years ahead.

Somewhere between ten and eleven, a lull settles over the room. There are yawns and regular clock checking. Then a welcomed snack and refreshment interlude revives us for what is left of the countdown.

During those dozen or so precious minutes, as the celebrations peak, we head outside for the festive, 360-degree fireworks, and it’s then that my reflection time begins. I relish the good that has evolved during the year and let go of the bad. I shed a tear for those I’m leaving behind and feel that glorious tingle for the possibilities that lay ahead.

After the cheers fade and the hugs are distributed, our short drive home is consumed by Christmas lights and a call to more family for New Year’s greetings.

At a more reasonable hour on the first of January, the organized Libran in me gets to work. I pull out the latest purchase that’s going to take control of my world and keep me balanced. It’s amazing to think how much stock we put into the idea of an inanimate object changing our life. What is yours?

Barista hubby would tell you that for him, it’s the coffee machine I gave him as an early Christmas present. After keeping me caffeinated all year, he deserved an upgrade.

But for me, it’s all about my new, glossy day planner. Who doesn’t love a brand-new piece of stationery? With meticulous thought, I write my goals, the steps I need to take and the words of motivation that will keep me focused throughout the year. I fill it with tasks for that all important first month that will set the tone for the year. And I’ve got big plans for 2022.

In 2021 I published my first hot contemporary romance novel on Amazon Kindle. The Cop was mostly written during Melbourne’s sixth lockdown (Yes, that’s right! The most locked down city in the world. Bah!)

The Cop focuses on the chemistry between a sexy as sin cop, Kane Browne and Jess, a woman who is battling self-confidence issues due to an illness. Kane’s selfless nature is put to the test when a possible promotion to Sergeant would see him moving to a rural town, three hours away. There’s also the issue of the three younger brothers, Kane and his next in line sibling had to raise due to the passing of their parents. Just as Kane has everything under control, the unthinkable happens which has him questioning everything he knew about himself.

This novel is not only about love, delicious sex scenes and a happily ever after. It’s also about resilience, overcoming adversities and the importance of family. And for Kane, it’s about the ultimate test of selfless versus selfish.

It is the first in a series featuring the Browne brothers and I‘ve already begun work on the second novel. Although I am prepared for the battle between working twenty-five hours a week at an office job (dealing mostly with figures), writing and maintaining housework and a husband (wink).

Publishing a novel was a dream that was a long time in the making, mostly from a lack of hard work and dedication. Over the past decade, I’d started and stopped so many times, it’s embarrassing. But being open and honest about failures is part and parcel of life. It’s how you grow or so I’ve been led to believe.

So, what changed, I hear you ask. The blunt answer is the passing of my father.

My Dad, Kevin was diagnosed with Leukemia at the start of 2019, after previously beating lymphoma a year or so earlier. As you can imagine, writing was an outlet for expressing my feelings and it served as a distraction from his fight. I told myself that if he’s strong enough for his battle than surely, I could match him with dedication and finally finish something I’d wanted to achieve for the majority of my life. Although, it should be noted the novel I was working on at the time, isn’t quite finished yet. The characters need a little more development. But I’ve promised them they won’t be left on the shelf for too long.

Unfortunately, Dad lost his battle in August 2020, but it fueled my desire and need to write more than ever before. I came up with the idea for The Cop in the middle of 2021, got to work and never looked back. Three beta readers gave me both good and constructive feedback. I tweaked and re-wrote some scenes until here I am, a smile of accomplishment on my face and a self-published novel to show for my efforts.

I like to think my father’s battle and his subsequent passing weren’t in vain. I like to think he gave me the desire. That sink or swim moment I needed to pursue and conquer the dream I’ve had since I was a naive fifteen-year-old who thought writing would be all about the glory and less about the hard work and dedication it requires.

So, now what’s going to drive me? My characters, of course. They’re all in my head, ready to burst out onto a fresh, white blank computer screen. The plotline for the next Browne brother’s chance at love has my fingers itching to hit the keyboard. I’m ready for the challenge of completing a second novel. And then a third. The prospect is exciting.

Whatever it is you’re planning for 2022, I wish you joy, health and happiness. I wish you nothing but success. And I’d love to hear about your plans, your life changing inanimate object or anything else you’d like to share.

The Cop

Kane Browne is a sexy as sin cop who is used to accommodating everyone else’s needs before his own.

Cue Jess Frost, the gorgeous woman with a sharp tongue and eyes like the ocean.

From their first roadside interaction, sparks fly but an illness has robbed Jess of her self-confidence and Kane needs to convince her he’s worth taking a chance on.

This sexy, contemporary romance is a little sweet, a little naughty and comes with a side of handcuffs and a HEA (happily ever after). First book in a series, featuring five very different brothers.

The Cop is now available in paperback and e-book formats on Amazon.

Get your copy here!

Follow Deb Robinson on her official Facebook page
Follow on Twitter @DRobinsonbooks
Follow on Instagram debrobinsonbooks

UPDATE: The winners are…Laura and K. Campos!
*~*~*

Besides my series, I have written some very sexy standalone stories, too! I forget about them because I’m so busy trying to keep up with series, but I shouldn’t. In fact, I should go back and look at my workplan, because I deserve to write something completely fun and one-off!

If you haven’t read the books below, now’s your time to peruse this incomplete list, and I’m including an excerpt from one of them so you can sample some of the fun. Several of them are menage stories, so if that’s your thing, be sure to check them out!

Contest

For a chance to win your choice of one of the books below,
share something about yourself others might find interesting!

Click on any cover to learn more about the story!

Excerpt from Fun with Dick and Jane…

Tuesday

They were going at it again, and he was gonna get arrested. Which would be pretty damn embarrassing, considering he was cop.

Like clockwork, the couple across the alleyway started banging the minute his car pulled into the garage.

A sight impossible to miss. The street along the back of the parallel rows of one-story houses wasn’t much of a buffer. Driveways spoked off the narrow, paved road, and only twenty feet separated his garage from the bedroom window across the way.

Last night, he’d loosened the garage light bulb to make sure it didn’t give him away when the door slid up. Tonight, he’d flicked his car’s overhead lamp switch off so that the light wouldn’t beam the moment he exited his vehicle. Carefully, he closed his car door, pushing it with his hip to muffle the click as it locked, then walked around to the back of the car to lean his ass against the trunk and watch the show.

They had to know anyone walking by could see every damn thing—every drop of sweat, every short curl of pale blonde hair. She faced the window, clutching the bottom windowsill, her breasts bouncing every time Boyfriend slammed her ass.

God, her tits were Grade-A prime. Cherry nipples topping creamy mounds.

Her blue eyes closed, her mouth rounded, and he knew when she came because she always wore the same expression—her cheeks growing rosy, her eyebrows drawing together tightly, and the corners of her mouth curving like the cat that licked the cream.

And if the wind hadn’t been whistling through the alley, he would have heard the whimper she gave when Boyfriend milked the last little contraction of her orgasm.

Fuck. He needed his own woman. Maybe she had a twin. Because he sure as shit wouldn’t be satisfied with anyone who wasn’t her, Jane Peabody—Jane Hotbody as he’d begun to call her in his head. He’d had her plates run so he’d have a name to assign the woman who’d played a starring role in all his fantasies these past couple of weeks.

At last, the couple finished and Boyfriend was pulling her into his arms, wrapping them around her belly and cupping those beautiful breasts as she snuggled her back against his chest.

It was time to leave. The show was over for the night.

Then her eyes opened, and Garrett Masters could have sworn she looked right at him. He cussed softly, straightened, and raised his arm, pulling down the garage door and shutting off the sight of her mouth stretching into a wide grin.

This post is a duplicate of the one I put up on the Collections website today. I didn’t have a guest here and was feeling a little lazy—plus, I love to introduce new authors to you all. Be sure to welcome Izzy and take advantage of her special offer!

Good things come to those who wait?

I’ve been writing for years—familiar story—without thinking about a next step! They say, write what you want to read. I write stories about love, lust, romance, relationships, and am now just realizing, hey, someone else might enjoy these suckers. Being a fan of Delilah’s racy romances, I’m over-joyed for Izzy’s debut in the Cowboys Behaving Badly Anthology. I hope you love Deacon in “Something to Talk About” as much as I do, and please reach out if you’d like more of my strong, silent, hunky cowboy! My brand-spanking-new website went live today. Come find me!

About Izzy…

• Izzy Archer is my pen name… shhhh. She’s badass.
• I discovered my love for erotic romance in a writing course: How to Write SEX. I’m currently working on a collection of erotic short stories revised from my old homework assignments.
• Paris is my favorite city and will definitely factor into future stories!
• I recently moved into an old Victorian in the Boston area, so it’s a good thing I’m handy, own power tools, and can fix things. Although, this place is over my skill level. But what’s more inspiring to a romance writer than crews of interesting workers coming and going? Everyone has a backstory!
• I turned into a wine snob from living in California. Reds from boutique vineyards. My favorite kind of day is wine tasting while taking in a view of the mountains.
• I believe in true love, soul mates, and the destiny we make. I create strong female characters. Don’t get me wrong, I love an alpha male. But, if there’s rescuing to be done, she’s fully capable.
• My stories will always have a happy ending. Otherwise, what’s the point?

I believe good things can come at any time! And if you’re willing to wait until late winter/early spring, I’d love to send you a freebie of my story collection when it’s out! Sign up on my new—as in HITTING-THE-LIVE-BUTTON on 12.30.21 (TODAY!)—website newsletter list. The Mailing List link is on my Contact page. Mention Delilah or Cowboys, and I will send you a book in 2022! Find the link here: Izzyarcher.com

Cafe Paris is for Lovers

SNEAK PEEK from short story, Prêt-à-porter (Ready to Wear) inside Cafe Paris is for Lovers…

Caroline, in Paris for Fashion Week, meets her longtime lover at a café in Le Marais, where he has arranged a special lunch for her…

Caroline wove her way through the outdoor seating of tiny marble-topped tables and caned-back chairs to the inside warmth of the cafe. She inhaled the smell of fresh bread and dark roasted coffee.

“Jean Claude, you waited for me.”

“Caroline, pas du problem. I’d wait a thousand years for you.” Jean Claude stood immediately and discarded the paper on the chair. He kissed her on each cheek, Parisian-style, right-left-right, and then they embraced. Tight at first, like old friends. When his hand lingered around her waist, his lips grazing her neck, Caroline smiled to herself. Only a tourist would think we were just friends.

About the Author

Izzy Archer writes erotic romance with a pen in one hand and a glass of Casamigos Reposado in the other. On the rocks, with a twist of lime. She has a fondness for both cowboys and cowboy boots. Not always in that order. Find out more about Izzy at IzzyArcher.com!

Her story inside Cowboys: A Boys Behaving Badly Anthology was “Something to Talk About”…

When a grad student takes a job as a nanny to two motherless children on a cutting horse ranch, she catches the eye of her sexy boss