Turn to someone and say, “‘Tis the season…” and that person will smile back at you and probably say, “To be jolly.” Then the two of you might laugh and sing “Fa la la la la la la la la.” The season of Advent revolves around the themes of peace, hope, joy and love reflected in the song “Deck The Halls”. On successive Sundays congregations light three purple or blue and one pink candles in their Advent wreaths and recite a prayer anticipating the hope, peace, joy and love that the coming of the Christ child will bring. The assumption is this is the most wonderful time of the year. But what if your time isn’t wonderful, putting you at odds with the majority of the people around you?

Loss at any time is painful, but experiencing loss when everyone else is smiling, laughing and giving good cheer can be doubly painful. A sense of isolation — or worse a sense of having no right to your feelings — can set in. The pressure to stiff-upper-lip-it is great. Sometimes greater than people can bear. This is why as minister for pastoral care, I developed a “Blue Christmas” service for First Presbyterian Church in Jamaica, NY (FPCJ) as a way to affirm loss and offer comfort to those for whom crying makes more sense than caroling.

Often held on the longest day of the year, Blue Christmas services let people who are mourning know that they are not alone, that they are not forgotten, that they have a right to what they’re feeling. Hymns and songs are usually sung in a minor key. Prayers shared acknowledge the sorrow and pain of loss with dignity. Works from authors like Ann Weems, who write meditations based in their own experience of suffering, are read. Old Testament scriptures point to people journeying from darkness to light. Psalms chosen are often ones of lament like Psalm 22 or ones looking for help like Psalm 121. New Testament readings focus on a hope that is always there, even when you can’t feel it. Candle lighting is coupled with litanies that banish as much as possible feelings of shame or blame. In the service I designed for FPCJ, attendees were invited to come forward and light candles as an act of agency showing that even when we feel most helpless we always have power. As a reverse offering, attendees were invited to take a scripture stone (glass stones with scriptures on them) from the offering plates to take home as reminders that help from the word of God is always within reach.

Here are two sample services so you can see what I mean: https://www.umcdiscipleship.org/resources/blue-christmas-a-service-of-reflection-for-the-longest-night, https://youngclergywomen.org/blue-christmas-service-when-christmas-hurts/.

If you’ve never attended one, find a community near you that’s offering one then consider going. FPCJ’s Blue Christmas services were some of the most life affirming events I had the honor to participate in.

If this season is a dark night of the soul for you or someone you know, I hope this blogpost can serve as a reminder that there is comfort and strength for you in this time of loss, that there are people who care and that — as the old Negro spiritual proclaims — “trouble don’t last always.”

One Breath Away

Sentenced to hang for a crime she didn’t commit, former slave Mary Hamilton was exonerated at literally the last gasp. She returns to Safe Haven, broken and resigned to live alone. She’s never been courted, cuddled or spooned, and now no man could want her, not when sexual satisfaction comes only with the thought of asphyxiation. But then the handsome stranger who saved her shows up, stealing her breath from across the room and promising so much more.

Wealthy, freeborn-Black, Eban Thurman followed Mary to Safe Haven, believing the mysteriously exotic woman is his mate foretold by the stars. He must marry her to reclaim his family farm. But first he must help her heal, and to do that means revealing his own predilection for edgier sex.

Hope ignites along with lust until the past threatens to keep them one breath away from love…

Excerpt:

His smile turned up the heat in his gaze. Mary frowned, painfully aware the smell of her passion lingered in the air, despite the woolen barrier of her skirt.

He stepped forward so his hand-stitched boots stood toe-to-toe with Mary’s second-hand shoes. “Eban Thurman, at your service, Miss Hamilton. May I get you something to drink?”

At her service? The air congealed. Mary gasped, trying to suck in air too solid to inflate her lungs.

“No—no, thank you. I’m not thirsty.” Her stutter mimicked the tremor between her thighs. She clasped her hands and planted them hard against her lap.

“It’s a really hot night.” He turned his hand palm up in a silent plea. “Perhaps you’d find a waltz more cooling.” He eased his fingers into her clenched hands.

“May I beg the honor of this dance?”

“Beg?”

“Yes, Miss Hamilton.” He tilted his head, slanting his smile to the right. “Beg.”

“You don’t strike me as the begging type, Mr. Thurman.”

“To everything there is a season and a time for every purpose under heaven.” He tongue-swiped his full lips as if he’d just tasted something he wanted to taste again. “I know when it’s time to beg.”

She pursed her lips into a frown, fought back the urge to grovel and won. Barely.

The fingers around hers, clean and huge and strangely slender, hadn’t moved, hadn’t trembled. Their stillness aroused her. His stillness aroused her. Her lips quivered. She inhaled deeply against the surrender summoned by that tiny tremor.

Resist the devil and he will flee.

Silently she called upon the truth in this scripture for rescue. The devil waited. She stared at the hand on hers, helpless against the appeal, the allure of temptation.

She swallowed hard, opened her mouth to say no, but her tongue refused to cooperate. She huffed out a breath and shook her head. “I—I can’t. I don’t know how to waltz.”

“Well, you’re in luck.” His lips bowed in a smile, full, broad, and hypnotizing. “I’m an excellent teacher and I bet you’re a fast learner.” He gave her fingers a squeeze. “Shall we?”

He really wanted to dance with her. She blinked, speechless. A warning voice protested.

Resist.

Her heart countered.

Surrender.

She firmed her lips, heaved a sigh then accepted his invitation. Felicity’s sputtered shock and Widow Hawthorne’s happy cackle accompanied them to the middle of the dance floor.

He placed his fingertips respectfully but firmly above the rise of her buttocks and held her in place against him. A tickle invaded the wool of her skirt where the tip of his middle finger rested at the head of her crack. Pleasure tripped up her spine and trickled between her thighs. But, from the recesses of remembered experience, a voice of caution persisted.

He wants something, Mary. Beware.

“Why—why do you want to dance with me?”

He smiled with the serpent slyness that probably charmed Eve. “I don’t think you’d believe me if I told you.”

“I might.”

He turned his head slightly. “Really? Your practiced calm says otherwise.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Practiced calm?”

“The face you present to the world until something touches your heart.” He gestured to his right. “Like when that baby there cried. Your expression changed to one of concern, then changed to one of contentment when his mother satisfied his hunger.”

Mary blew a breath through her mouth. This man was studying her. Really studying her. Should she be flattered or worried?

The one-two-three, one-two-three magic of the waltz began. He guided her in its dips and glides, through its rises and falls. The awkwardness attributed to her by past dance partners didn’t raise its ugly head. Her spirit lightened then soared until that still, small voice sounded the alarm.

You were fooled by another man and his fancy manners. Don’t be fooled by this one.

Hints of bay rum mingled with a manly scent against whose lure she struggled then lost. Once again her toilet water failed to hide the salty scent of her arousal.
Eban pinned her with a not-so-casual scrutiny. Could he smell her too? She tried but failed to read him. Dare she hope the ease in his smile meant he found it pleasing?

The other couples held their partners off with discreet and proper holds. Not Eban. Warmth radiated from the hand holding the small of her back hostage. The heat spread across her buttocks then seeped into places more private. He bent his elbow and gentled her forward so only their clasped hands separated them.

“Why, Miss Hamilton, I do believe you’re blushing.” His fingers held hers with a teasing yet possessive grip.

“I am not.” Her words shot out with a force she hadn’t intended. “I mean I don’t blush.”

“No?” A cheeky boyishness winked at her from eyes as dark as chocolate. He leaned down so his breath tickled her earlobe. “Not even if I kissed you behind your ear?”

She shrank back then stared up into the gaze showering her with attention. Her heart beat beneath her breast with a prisoner’s unease. An unease she knew well having once been a prisoner.

“You—you wouldn’t.”

His smile widened into a grin. “Only because I don’t want to embarrass you.”

The amusement in his voice coaxed forth a wet response that Mary clenched her vaginal muscles to stem. She swallowed repeatedly until she found her voice.

“You still haven’t answered me, sir. Of all the women here, why did you pick me?”

“Why not you?”

She blinked. Why not her? The answers swirled through her mind as easily as she and Eban swirled in this waltz.

Why not her?

Because she remained planted among the wallflowers by the time the musicians played the last song at every Safe Haven dance.

Because she learned to hang back at the call of “Ladies’ Choice,” forewarned of rejection by the grimaces caused by her approach.

Because unlike desperate-for-a-man Felicity, Mary refused to dance on her back in some dark field just so she wouldn’t be a woman who ain’t been asked.

Ain’t been asked to court. Ain’t been asked to spoon. Ain’t been asked to the altar. And never would be.

That’s why not her.

His calloused fingertips proved he worked manually for the wealth that purchased his custom-made attire. But, he didn’t speak like a field hand or common laborer. His speech testified to a level of education far above that of her Freedman’s Bureau learning.

“Why not you, Mary?”

“Because someone like you only looks at someone like me out of pity.”

Of course. His aunt put him up to this. Anger warmed Mary’s ears.

“Let me go.” She made to pull away. “I want to sit.”

“Please. Not before the music stops.” He timed his plea to the rhythm of the waltz. “I’ve waited all week for this moment.”

Mary gritted her teeth. Heart hurt joined her injured pride. She needed no one’s charity.

“That was cruel of you, sir. No one counts the days until they can ask me for a dance.” Tears pooled behind her closed eyelids. “Anyone in town could tell you that.”

The grip on her hand tightened, forcing her eyes open. The light in his gaze darkened. “Anyone who’d lie to me like that would be taking their life in their hands.” He leaned in so his mouth nuzzled her ear again. “And if you use that I’m-not-worthy tone of voice again, I’ll be forced to prove you wrong with a kiss.”

Alarm shuddered up Mary’s back. “Is—is that a threat?”

“A certainty.” He winked.

A chilly thrill replaced the alarm. She blew out a breath to steady herself. Threat or certainty, both treated her to a delicious revelation—she wanted that kiss.

She eyed his lips, imagined their soft yet demanding press against hers. Once more the voice of caution repeated its warning.

Resist the devil, and he will flee from you.

Oh, to be forced to flee from such a devil as he. She sighed. What a wonderful problem to have.
*~*~*

Book links: Amazon: https://amzn.to/2QfEOZd

Social media links: Twitter – @mscottauthor1
Website: http://www.michalscott.webs.com

For a limited time only, get your FREE copy of the sexy-funny prequel story to my contemporary western (very erotic) series, Lone Star Lovers!

Honey Cafferty lives a happy but precarious existence as a traveling saleswoman, searching for a sense of belonging. From her colorful wagon she brews decoctions to cure ennui, sleeplessness, hysteria—and after a visit from a mysterious Mexican curandera—she believes she’s found the way to improve a man’s libido. But how can she package her “Elixir of Love” without being run out on a rail from the nearest town for selling something that produces such carnal effects?

Sheriff Joe Tanner is protective of his little town and downright hostile toward anyone who takes advantage of the fine folk in Two-Mule, Texas. When sees the gypsy wagon roll into town, he’s ready to hurry the snake oil salesman on his way, but Honey isn’t what he expected. When the men of the town begin to plead exhaustion and place the blame for their state squarely on the pretty little redhead’s shoulders, he has to investigate.

Get your copy: Sweeter Than Honey

May I introduce you to the Christmas Gargoyles? They’re big, strong, handsome, and caring. They’re protectors and guardians. They’re delicious sexual dominants. But they’re not exactly human.

Every year when the days get short enough, the gargoyles that guard us unseen can take human form if they want. That usually happens when they encounter someone who attracts them in a crucially different way. For that one particular woman they take on human shape for a limited time to make a deeper connection.

It takes more than just looks to attract a gargoyle’s attention. They’re drawn to people who are passionate, self-giving, loving, and caring, even in the midst of their own problems. And once they’ve given their hearts, it’s a lifetime deal. If the woman in question learns to love them in return, there is a way the gargoyle can become fully human, but it’s a serious test for both of them.

The current wave of gargoyle connections began with Averic, known as “Eric”, whose story is told in Gargoyle’s Christmas. Mark (Sophie’s Gargoyle), Ben (Ginny’s Gargoyle), and Glen (Vivian’s Gargoyle, coming soon) followed in his wake. All of them, and the women they love, are tested in a variety of ways.
So, why gargoyles? And what’s the connection to Christmas? I have a hard time following the train of ideas rolling through my head that led to the whole concept. Sometimes a mishmash of ideas just mixes and clashes and finally produces some weird concept.

The feast of Christmas occurs just a few days after the winter solstice, the shortest day of the year. The shortest day means the longest night. The most darkness. Gargoyles are creatures of the dark. In their stone incarnations, they tend to sit on high points of churches and other public buildings, giving them perfect perches to watch events below. Inevitably, from watching, they want to join in some of the human activities. And when they meet that one person who interests them more than any other, they want to be able to stay with them.

Latest Release: Ginny’s Gargoyle

Ginny’s Christmas plans didn’t include falling in love with a gargoyle.

*NOTE* This is a rewritten version of a short story included in the Naughty Literati anthologies. It’s been revised and expanded to novella length.

The walk from the bus stop to her D.C. apartment takes just five minutes, but Ginny works second shift and gets home near midnight. When a mugger surprises her on the way one night shortly before Thanksgiving, rescue comes unexpectedly. A mysterious hooded and cloaked stranger saves her and walks her to her apartment but declines her invitation to come in. The next night he meets her at the bus stop and again walks her home, a practice that continues each time she gets home late. As they get to know each other on those nightly walks, he promises that he will soon accept the invitation to her home.

He warns, though, that there are things she needs to know about him she’ll find hard to believe and accept. He isn’t kidding. She can handle his dominating tendencies and maybe even the warning that they can have only a short time together. But when he claims he’s a shapeshifting gargoyle, she has to wonder whether letting him into her life is a good idea after all.

Buy Links:
• Kindle: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07ZZJLHGT
• Nook: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/ginnys-gargoyle-katherine-kingston/1134656970
• iTunes: https://books.apple.com/us/book/id1486053880
• Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/ginny-s-gargoyle
• Universal Book link: https://books2read.com/u/4j1vDk

Just because it’s been out a while, doesn’t mean you won’t want it! And who doesn’t love Vikings…?

Hello Sexy Readers,

Thanks for joining me on Delilah Devlin’s blog today, and a huge shout out to her as well. I hope everyone is excited for the holidays. I know I am. I plan on making great memories. So what if my kids are twenty, eighteen, and fourteen? We’ll still be making gingerbread houses, decking the halls, watching all the animated Christmas movies, and enjoying our favorite homemade goodies.

While I was writing Triple Naughty Christmas, I incorporated a few of my family’s holiday rituals here and there, including the all-important sausage balls. I know: Everyone makes them, but mine are the best. I cook up a bunch of those tasty hors d’oeuvres every year and take a batch of them to every family gathering I attend. Everyone raves and no one understands why their sausage balls don’t come out as well. Friends and relatives always ask for the recipe which I graciously provide with a smile on my face.

Now I won’t bore you with my sausage ball recipe. It’s the same one you’ll find on any number of websites, and having it means nothing. What I will do you, is fill you lovelies in on all my secrets (Yay for pen names—can’t let my in-laws know I’ve been holding out on them.). The first trick is simple enough: milk. The high calcium drink isn’t listed in the ingredients for sausage balls in my cookbook, and it’s usually omitted in most, but you need it. If you try to mix two or more cups of baking mix in with your sausage and cheese without a few splashes, you are going to have some hard, dry balls (yuck!) Don’t ask how much to add. It depends on how much baking mix you use. I’ve seen recipes call for anywhere between one cup (amateurs) to three and a half to pair with their shredded cheese and one pound of sausage (What are they thinking?) Trust me. Two cups are all you need. The consistency will tell you if you’ve used the right amount of milk or if you need to add more. If you manage to put too much milk in, well, bless your heart. You can salvage by adding some more baking mix but all bets are off on you reaching holiday pork nirvana.

Rule two: Use your hands (Wash them well first, of course). I’ve seen people use mixers or expensive food processors so they don’t have to touch raw pork. Good luck with that—it’s not going to taste right unless you get your hands in there and mix it to perfection. This holiday treat is a tradition and a labor of love. You have to finesse it with your own fingers before rolling those puppies into pretty balls.

Now if you follow rules one and two, you will have some yummy sausage balls, but they still likely won’t be as good as mine because rule three is key. Buy premium sausage! I recommend the hot Bass Farms if it is available in your area. If not, you will have to labor with trial and error until you find what’s best and freshest in your neck of the woods. Of course, what’s really important is that you get your loved ones in the kitchen with you to knead your mixture and roll your balls. Have fun and Bon appetite!

*****

Two husbands, four kids, a gaggle of nosy neighbors, a car accident, the best present ever, a naughty party, and a mother-in-law expected for Christmas.

How will Trisha ever pull it off?

Triple Naughty Christmas by Sierra Brave

Series: Triple Passion Play – Book Four

Hashtags: #Menage #BisexualRomance #RomanticComedy #Holiday

Release date: 29th November 2019 (Preorder Available)

Amazon Buy Links: US, UK, CA, AU

Also Available at other Major Retailers: https://books2read.com/u/bzvGw9

What it’s all about…

Navigating the Yuletide season can be a challenge for anyone but after hosting their family Christmas celebration for more than fifteen years, forty-something mom, Trisha Marks-Davidson, believes she’s conquered Santa and tamed all of his reindeer. Anything but ordinary, Trisha’s family of seven consists of herself, her two husbands, Tommy and Ken, and their four kids. Despite their unusual situation, she’s cultivated a system for a fun-filled holiday packed with their own special traditions.

Trisha, Tommy, and Ken are pleased with the quiet, comfortable life they’ve built together but are disturbed to learn the novelty of their three-way union still hasn’t worn off for some members of their community even after nearly two decades. A last-minute decision to attend a neighborhood Christmas party could be the trio’s undoing. The opportunity to set the record straight is there for the taking but actions speak louder than words and temptation is all around them.

Excerpt:

Glancing at the mirror, Ken caught the reflection of a slight movement in the shadows just outside the door and sighed. “Just how long have you been skulking in the darkness?”

“Long enough.” Trisha stepped into the room with them. Bathed in the bathroom’s bright lights, her platinum highlights shimmered within her long, sandy-colored locks. Ken glanced at Thomas, noting the way he eyed Trisha’s tanned, toned and completely nude form. Ken couldn’t blame him. Even after all these years, she was an impressive beauty and Thomas hadn’t seen her for a few days. A primal yearning stirred within Ken as he watched his husband’s gaze eyes linger over Trisha’s breasts and taut nipples before breezing over her tummy to her bikini area’s neatly trimmed triangle of curls. Ken stepped closer to her, slipping his arms around her waist and pressing a smooch against her soft, warm lips. She smelled of sex and cinnamon-scented body lotion. “Why didn’t you join us?”

“You two seemed to be doing just fine on your own, and I didn’t want to interrupt your anniversary sex.” Ken ran his hands over the small of Trisha’s back before cupping her naked ass. She was in pretty good shape by any standards, but for a forty-four-year-old, mother of four, she was a goddess.

“I can’t believe you were hiding in the shadows like a stalker.” Thomas wagged his head at her.

“Well…I was awoken by the unmistakable sound of my husband receiving a blow job, and by the time I was able to force myself out of bed to check things out, you two were intensely focused on each other. Honestly, I couldn’t pry my eyes away. It was so hot!”

Ken smacked her butt playfully, eliciting a tiny squeal, “Naughty peeper. Maybe I should grab the hairbrush and punish you.” Trisha’s face lit up. She enjoyed playing the naughty college co-ed to his strict professor, and Ken loved the way her ass jiggled when he spanked her. Sadly, Thomas was never interested in playing those games with them. Ken’s cock twitched a hair at the mere thought of putting the big, sexy blond man over his knee.

“I already came, but if we have any more of those little, blue pills, I’ll be glad to give you equal time, Trish.” Thomas smiled at her from his partially slumped-over position on the side of the tub. Ken smirked, secretly proud to have drained the poor guy dry.

Leaning against the counter with her legs crossed at the ankles, Trisha shook her head, a smirk playing on her pouty lips. “I’m good. Why do you think Ken and I were naked when you got home?”

*****

Other books in the Triple Passion Play series: Can love between three survive?

Rock You Like a Hurricane

The Power of Three

Baby Makes Four

Connect with Sierra

Website: http://sierrabrave.rocks/

Newsletter Sign up: https://mailchi.mp/7332d9f55a11/blushing-press-sign-up-page

FB: https://www.facebook.com/Sierra-Brave-1422713414692067/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/BraveSierra

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/sierrabraveauthor/

This is a busy post, but hang in there!

Contests still open!

So, yes, I have a new contest for you today, but I thought you might like a reminder that there are still more prizes to be won! Go enter today!

1. Reina Torres: Silver Foxes aren’t my Spirit Animals… I crave them! (Contest) — Ends this weekend! Win a FREE book! Closed!
2. A Puzzle & a Prize! (Contest) — Last day to enter! Win an Amazon gift card! Closed!
3. Scavenger Hunt (Contest) — Win an Amazon gift card!

Real Life

I’ve had a bad cough since right before Halloween. I’ve had laryngitis for the last ten days. I still have to shout-whisper to be heard. And now, I have pleurisy and my ribs ache like I was kicked by a mule. But I am getting better. I’m not sleeping all day like I was. I’m not coughing quite as much, and it is breaking up.

As if that’s not enough to deal with, I noticed that my mother looked like a Simpson. Her skin tone turned a bright yellow overnight, it seemed. My dd took her to the emergency room, and they transported her to the big city hospital in Little Rock yesterday. My aunt is camped out in her room there. My dd placed her oldest girl in our house to help me out while mom is gone, and we’re all trying to get ready for company that is descending this week for Thanksgiving.

Do you think we’re a little stressed out?

As for writing, there hasn’t been any of that this month. It’s hard to be creative when you feel like hell. I have been editing, so I haven’t been a complete bum. 🙂

And that’s where I’m at. I hope you all are doing better than the Devlins are at the moment!

One cool thing. Just when I was feeling my worst, I received a package from my author-friend, Diana Cosby! She sent me not one, but two lovely mugs! I’ve been drinking honeyed tea from them! Aren’t they pretty? Thank you so much, Diana!

Flashback: Bound & Determined (Contest–2 Winners!)

Comment on this post to win your choice of one of the books in the Texas Cowboys series! This series is a very sexy set of stories set in a small town in Texas, where cowboys and lawmen are “bound & determined” to win their ladies any way they can!

When Tara Toomey hosts the annual cowboy auction in her bar, she’s in the mood to serve bad boy Cody Westhofen more than a drink when she raises her bidding paddle. She’s done with his freewheeling ways. It’s time for the sexy cowboy to man up or get the hell out of her life. What better way to capture his attention and show him she’s serious than to kidnap him for a wanton weekend?

Tied to Tara’s bed, Cody is more than willing to cooperate. Until he found himself cuffed to her bed, he didn’t know how desperate she was to show him how much she cares.

It’s going to be a long, hot weekend…

Read an excerpt here!

Here are all the stories in the Texas Cowboy series!

Click on the covers to learn more!

FIRST RESPONSE: A BOYS BEHAVING BADLY ANTHOLOGY
Editor: Delilah Devlin
Deadline: November 15, 2019 December 10, 2019

FIRST RESPONSE is open to all authors.

Editor/Author Delilah Devlin is looking for stories for a romantic erotica anthology tentatively entitled FIRST RESPONSE: A BOYS BEHAVING BADLY ANTHOLOGY.

Why write a short story for this collection? Well, it’s certainly not about making a lot of money, so why do it at all? I’ve said this before, but here are my thoughts…

Writing a short story for a call for submissions is a chance to flex your writing muscle! It can be a chance to experiment with a genre you’ve never written. If you’ve never written a story in first person but don’t want to begin by writing an entire novel using it, start short! For myself, I’ve written stories in new genres or with fresh themes that ended up being so much fun to write they’ve spawned entire series.

You have a deadline! I don’t know about you, but I have trouble keeping my butt in the chair without one!

It’s a promotional opportunity! If selected, you’ll be joined by 12-15 other authors for the launch, sharing your audiences and, hopefully, picking up new readers along the way. Having your story in the collection is another chance to be “seen.”

And remember, you retain the rights to your story, so you can republish it for individual sale or give it away to attract subscribers to your newsletter. You might even decide there’s more story to tell and expand it into a novel!

Here’s what I’m looking for…

FIRST RESPONSE: A BOYS BEHAVING BADLY ANTHOLOGY will include stories that satisfy the reader who craves stories about those brave people who sweep into therescue, regardless of the dangers. Here are a few ideas…

When an alarm goes off in a high-rise apartment building, our heroine is trapped in an elevator while fire spreads in the floors above her. Who will provide her comfort until she can be rescued? An ex who’s a fireman with local FD? Perhaps the heroine is the pilot of a spaceship on the edge of the galaxy when her ship is attacked, and she’s forced to land on uninhabited planet. Who will come to her rescue? Will he be human? The vessel of a woman attempting a solo voyage around the world is sinking in the middle of the ocean. Will a pirate be her only hope?

Don’t limit your imagination to these ideas! Just remember, our “boys” have to behave badly—to give the rescuee just what they always secretly craved… Have fun with the concept.

I’m open to any subgenre of erotic romance you want to write. I’ll accept contemporary, historical, science fiction, or paranormal stories, and I won’t be picky about whether the stories are hetero, LGBT, ménage… Basically, you, the author, can go anywhere your imagination takes you so long as 1) a character is in jeopardy, and 2) the story is a romance, and 3) you have a bad boy somewhere in the pages!

The anthology will be sold at a low price—my intent is exposure for you and your writing. The more readers reached, the better! You will retain the rights to your story so that, at a later date, you can republish your stories individually.

I’m seeking hot and inventive stories from authors with unique voices, and above all, I’m looking to be seduced by tales filled with vivid imagery and passion.

Published authors with an established world may use that setting for their original short story.

This is erotic romance, so don’t hold back on the heat. Stories can be vanilla or filled with kink, but don’t miss describing the romantic connection between strong-willed individuals learning to trust and love one another. A deep sensuality should linger in every word. Keep in mind there must be a romantic element with a happy-for-now or happy-ever-after ending. Strong plots, engaging characters, and unique twists are the ultimate goal. Please no reprints. I want original stories.

How to submit: Prepare your 2,500 to 5,500 words story in a double-spaced, Arial, 12 point, black font, Word document (.doc or .docx) OR rich text format (.rtf), with pages numbered. Indent the first line of each paragraph half an inch, and double space (regular double spacing; do not add extra lines between paragraphs or do any other irregular spacing). U.S. grammar (double quotation marks around dialogue, etc.) is required.

In your document at the top left of the first page, include your legal name (and pseudonym, if applicable), mailing address, email address, and a 50-words or less bio, written in the third person, and send to boysbehavingbadlyfirstresponse@gmail.com. If you are using a pseudonym, please provide your real name and pseudonym and make it clear which one you’d like to be credited as. Authors may submit up to 2 stories. I will respond no later than January 30, 2020 with decisions.

Payment will be $25.00 USD, ninety days after publication at the end of that month.

Who am I?

Delilah Devlin is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of erotica and erotic romance. She has published nearly two hundred stories in multiple genres and lengths, and is published by Atria/Strebor, Avon, Berkley, Black Lace, Cleis Press, Ellora’s Cave, Entangled, Grand Central, Harlequin Spice, HarperCollins: Mischief, Kensington, Kindle, Montlake, Penthouse, Running Press, and Samhain Publishing.

Her short stories have appeared in multiple Cleis Press collections, including Lesbian Cowboys, Girl Crush, Fairy Tale Lust, Lesbian Lust, Passion, Lesbian Cops, Dream Lover, Carnal Machines, Best Erotic Romance (2012), Suite Encounters, Girl Fever, Girls Who Score, Duty and Desire, Best Lesbian Romance of 2013, and On Fire. For Cleis Press, she edited Girls Who Bite, She Shifters, Cowboy Lust, Smokin’ Hot Firemen, High Octane Heroes, Cowboy Heat, Hot Highlanders and Wild Warriors and Sex Objects. She also edited Conquests: An Anthology of Smoldering Viking Romance, Rogues: A Boys Behaving Badly Anthology, Blue Collar: A Boys Behaving Badly Anthology, Pirates: A Boys Behaving Badly Anthology, and Stranded: A Boys Behaving Badly Anthology.

Direct any questions you have regarding your story or the submission process to me at boysbehavingbadlyfirstresponse@gmail.com.