I know I am not the only person getting snow at this point in April. I am not a fan of winter months to begin with. I write a lot of spring and summer romance for that reason. So, here is a list of what I am looking forward to when this season actually settles and acts like it wants to warm up around these mountains I live in. 

1. Trees and flowers in bloom
2. Fresh produce and farmer markets
3. Mild mornings and evenings
4. Putting the thermals away for a while
5. Events and outings!

What are you looking forward to this spring and summer?
I will check back at the end of the week for answers and pick 3 to get a swag pack mailed.
US mail only for this one. 

If you are interested in contemporary, sports romance, and reverse harem style, you may want to consider joining my Patreon team. Even the $1 tier has access to the story I am writing in there before publishing it anywhere else. It is also available on Amazon Vella as a serial short, but well behind the Patreon posting of it. 

Join me at Swift University where a good girl has decided to go very, very bad. Readers get to weigh in on the character development, naming rights, and of course my patrons are thanked in the acknowledgements of the book. 

Here’s a look at the first cover. 

Links:
Patreon Page: https://www.patreon.com/musesandsirens
Right now, March is a Patreon exclusive! Read it before everyone else does by joining the team. 

Website: http://www.creativewritingwithdrnagle.com
Twitter: https://twitter.com/AuthorCaraNorth
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/caranorthauthor/
Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/caranorthauthor
Instagram:  https://www.instagram.com/caranorth_author/?hl=en
Goodreads:  https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/20650398.Cara_North
BookBub : https://www.bookbub.com/authors/cara-north
Amazon Author Page:  https://www.amazon.com/~/e/B002BLLE1U
TikTok: https://vm.tiktok.com/TTPdht9Kg1/

UPDATE: The winners are…PansyRose Parsons and Debra Guyette!
*~*~*

Before I wrote bounty hunters, I wrote about vampires…

Knight in Transition

A member of an elite police unit sworn to hunt vampires, Joe Garcia’s life is turned upside down when he’s transformed into one. On a quest for a cure, Joe’s search brings him to New Orleans in a last-ditch effort to recover his humanity.

Professor Lily Carlson, a renowned expert in vampire lore, has a condition of her own. Her sexual libido has been in hyper-drive for months. Her only defense is to hide behind her glasses and tweed suits and stay as far away from men as possible. However, she’s thrilled to discover vampires really do exist when Joe shows up on her balcony.

Although Joe deflects her attempts to make him a case study and confirm a few vampire statistics, he is drawn by her powerful allure. When werewolves join the chase and track her through New Orleans, Joe’s cop instincts tell him there’s a mystery to solve. Intent on protecting her, he must seek help from the last vampire on Earth he wants to ask.

While his hopes for deliverance from his fate dwindle, Lily’s life is forever altered by an unexpected inheritance.

Get your copies here!
Night Fall Series

How it begins…

The small sign in the café window read: Welcome Vampires and Sanguinarians! (No blood products provided—none permitted on premises! The Management).

Joe Garcia snorted. Every human in the place was a walking, breathing blood product — a portable soda fountain for the Fanged Ones.

He pushed through the glass door and tried to dampen the hope that rose in his chest, causing his heart to beat faster and his hands to sweat. Thusfar, he’d met only disappointment in his long search. This might be just another dead end-the last one he could afford before his cash ran out and his credit card was maxed.

Professor Carlson was his last hope.

Inside the cafe, enticing aromas assailed him. The smell of roasted coffee beans, which had been his life’s blood in another existence, was overlaid with the tangy scent of the real thing-the warm, viscous red stuff. The latter reminded him he hadn’t fed this evening, and hunger gnawed at his belly, making him edgy and irritable.

And something else enticed him. Something dark and sensual perfumed by a female musk with a tincture so unique it immediately sent a curl of heat to his groin.

He walked past the coffee bar without acknowledging the barrista’s greeting and wound his way through the tables, ignoring the human appetizers. His gaze was fixed on a menu board at the entrance of a roped-off area in the back, that read, “Vampire Survey Here”. An arrow pointed down to a table laden with a stack of pamphlets.

He brushed past the table, searching the back of the restaurant for his quarry.
“Sir, are you here ’bout da survey Professor Carlson is conductin’?”

Joe turned toward the voice flavored with a deep Louisianan accent. A pleasant-faced girl with black corkscrew curls all around her head sat at a table near the cordoned entrance.

He bit back the rude retort that immediately came to mind and answered, “Yes. I need to speak with her.”

“Well, you’ll have to complete a screenin’ survey first,” she said pleasantly but firmly, holding up a stapled document.

Joe sighed and accepted the papers. What the hell? Five more minutes wouldn’t kill him.

“Do you have a pencil?” she asked. When he shook his head, she gave him a superior smile and extended a short, sharpened pencil.

Joe didn’t like her attitude one bit, so he reached for her hand, running his fingers over her palm before taking it.

Her smile slipped and Joe could well imagine her thoughts. Another vampire wannabe was hitting on her. He smiled and let her see his teeth.

Her eyes narrowed and a single brow rose. She wasn’t impressed.

That actually gave Joe hope he was in the right place after all. His sharp fangs hadn’t fazed her.

“You can take a seat with the other guy,” she said, indicating the first booth along the back wall.

Joe walked over and slid across the vinyl seat opposite a young man dressed in black leather and sporting no less than five facial piercings. The piercings glittered like tinsel in the dim light and Joe wondered how the kid could stand leather in May-New Orleans was already sweltering, even at night.

Turning over the top page of his survey, Joe quickly scanned the questions. He hoped like hell they were only meant to screen out the weirdoes and pretenders. Otherwise, he was screwed.

He wet the tip of his pencil on his tongue and read the first question.

“Do you consider yourself a Vampire or a Sanguinarian?”

Since he had no clue what a Sanguinarian was, he checked, “Vampire.”

“If you checked ‘Vampire’, skip to question 6.”

Maybe this wouldn’t take so long after all.

In the middle of the page, he found 6. “How often do you have the urge to drink blood?”

He checked the block beside, “More than three times a day.” Three times a night would be more accurate.

“How often do you drink blood?”

“Once a day.”

“Do you drink your own blood?”

“What would be the point?” he muttered, and checked “No.”

When he reached the question, “Do you drink blood during sexual encounters?”, he’d had enough.

He tossed the survey to the table and started to rise.

“She won’t see you unless you finish the survey,” Metal Boy said, without looking up from his form.

“She’ll see me.”

The young man’s mouth twisted into a sneer. “You’ll have to wait your turn. I was here first.”

Joe lifted his lips and showed him his fangs.

Metal Boy smirked and then lifted his lips, displaying a whole row of sharpened teeth.

Joe took a quick glance around the café to make sure no one was near, and then leaned over the table and shook his head. He let the change come over him, reveling for once in the wildness that surged in his veins as the bones in his forehead and brow shifted, and his skin stretched tightly.

The boy’s eyes widened until the whites symmetrically framed his irises. “I-I’ve just thought of somewhere else I need to be,” he said, and quickly scooted off the seat and ran for the exit.

Satisfied that vamping was good for at least scaring the shit out of punks, Joe took a deep breath and relaxed, feeling his face reform to his human mask. Then he headed back to the girl with the wild hair.

“I’ll see her now,” Joe said, not even trying to conceal his impatience.

“Have you finished dat survey?” she asked, her nose buried in her Cosmo magazine.

When he didn’t respond, she raised her eyes.

Something in his expression made her hesitate. “I’ll see if she’s free.”

Joe smiled grimly. “You do that.”

She was back in a moment. “Professor Carlson’ll see you now. You left your survey on the table, but I gave it to her.”

He followed her to the farthest corner of the café, toward another booth. A green lamp suspended over the table lent the corner a warm glow. When he drew alongside the green vinyl seat, the girl indicated he should sit and promptly left. Joe turned his gaze to the figure seated on the opposite bench.

His research had told him the professor was considered an expert in vampire lore. She’d written papers, magazine articles, and books, and even been consulted by more than one movie producer. When he’d typed “vampire expert” in the Internet search engine, her name had popped up everywhere.

All his research told him she might hold the answer, but it hadn’t said anything about how young or drinkable she was. Her hair was neither blonde nor brown, but the warm color of whiskey. Her eyes, hidden behind a pair of wire-framed glasses, glinted cognac. Her lips were a pale rosé.

The hunter within him woke.

Realizing he’d been staring, he cleared his throat. “You’re Professor Lily Carlson? The author of ‘Vampires: Myth and Reality’?”

Her gaze swept over him. An action so swift, he thought he might have imagined it. “And you are?” she asked, leaning over the table to extend her hand.

Joe froze. That indefinable scent was all over her. He had the urge to rub on her like a kitten in catnip. He eyed her small hand, afraid to touch it and feel the blood humming below the surface of her creamy, white skin. He was that close to jumping her. “I thought the survey was anonymous.”

“Oh, it is,” she replied quickly, withdrawing her hand. “You’re responding to the ad, then?” At his nod, she looked vaguely disappointed. “Well, I suppose I should review your answers. Please have a seat,” she said, waving him toward the bench seat opposite hers. “Thank you for taking the time to help me with my research.”

Bemused, Joe slid onto the seat. He knew he should get straight to the point, but he stalled. For just a few minutes, he wanted to be with a woman while she looked at him as if he was just like any other man. Well, perhaps like he was a man with a serious mental disorder. But at least, she wasn’t recoiling in horror or inspecting him like the Bearded Lady at a freak show.

Not that she was a great beauty, nor even as strong and fierce as his ex-partner Darcy. Dressed in a boring-beige suit, her whiskey-colored hair piled in a loose knot on top of her head, and her glasses sliding down her shiny nose, she looked like the schoolmarm she was. But while all the beige and brown should have made her look muddy, she glowed golden in the lamplight. And her scent—richly textured with something wild and animalistic—was extraordinary.

The woman opened his survey and glanced at his answers, then flipped the page. Her lips pursed for a moment, drawing his gaze to her full lower lip. “There are a few more questions I need answered. Do you mind if I learn a little more about you?” she asked, glancing up at him from beneath her gold-tipped lashes.

The surge of heat that centered in his groin was way out of proportion to her innocent question. Afraid he’d stutter over a tongue that suddenly felt too large for his mouth, he merely nodded.

“You understand the questions I’m about to ask you are part of a sociological study I’m conducting about our vampire subculture?”

Again, he nodded.

“All information you provide,” she recited as if from rote, “will be completely confidential. I hope you will answer me honestly,” she gave him a doubtful stare, “or to the best of your ability.”

She looked expectantly at him, so he nodded again.

Her gaze returned to his survey, and she cleared her throat. “You…are a vampire?”

“Yes.” This was the first time he’d admitted that fact out loud, and he knew how ridiculous it sounded.

“So, are you a Psy or a Sang?”

“There’s more than one kind?” Joe asked.

“A Psychic vampire feeds on a human’s energy; a Sanguinarian is a blood-drinker.”

“I guess I’m a Sang.”

“You drink blood once a day?” she asked, her head still bent over the paper.

He shrugged, hoping she’d glance up at him again so he could see whether her eyes really were a warm, golden-brown. “More or less.”

She scribbled something in the margin of his survey. “Well, which is it?”

“Sometimes more.”

“Do you drink human blood?”

Joe wished she’d end this line of questioning, or he’d be drooling shortly. Her scent had every appetite revving into high gear. “Yes.”

She glanced up from the survey. “How long have you had the urge to drink blood?”

“Since I woke up, tonight.”

She blinked. “No, I meant…since ever.”

ALL THE NIGHT FALL BOOKS!

Click image to get your copy!

Contest

Answer this for a chance to win your choice from among my many Night Fall titles!

What was the last paranormal story you read?

UPDATE: The winners are…Denise, Jennifer Beyer, and Stacey Kinzebach!
*~*~*

I love writing short stories. I used to submit short stories to publishers all the time because writing short, getting to The End quickly, gave me a rush. Writing short also gave me a chance to try new things out without a lot of risks. It’s how I discovered my love for writing bounty hunter stories! Eventually, I “graduated” to editing and publishing my own collections of short stories because I love the process of seeking stories from talented officers, making choices regarding which stories work together, editing every precious word, and then sending the book out into the world for readers to enjoy. I’m working on volume #7 of my Boys Behaving Badly Anthologies right now—Silver Soldiers—that I think you’ll like.

It releases later this year! The book will be a big thick volume of shorties and will be dirt cheap—just $0.99—like all the Bad Boy anthologies are. No excuses at all for anyone not to pick up a copy!

You can check out previous anthologies by clicking on the covers. And yes, they are all just $0.99—not because they’re not worth full price, but because the authors of these stories want as many people as possible to devour their stories! They’re a great deal and a great way to find new-to-you authors!

Contest

Comment for a chance to win the download of your choice of
one these anthologies!  There will be three winners!

Excerpt From “In the Wild” inside First Response…

If not for her GPS device, Martika Mills wouldn’t have had a clue where she was. All she knew was that she was soaked to the skin, mud sucked at her boots, and two days into this hunt, she was no closer to finding Marlon Oats.

Earlier that morning, after sliding a twenty to a gas station attendant on the Montana border, she’d thought she was getting close. She’d gotten a description of the car Marlon had “borrowed” on his flight into the wilderness and had found it parked in a narrow roadside viewing point, just inside Yellowstone National Park.

After that, she’d followed the narrow stream into a deep gully off the road, knowing Marlon considered himself quite the fisherman, or so his mother had said. No doubt he intended to live off the land until the heat died down after he’d failed to make his date with the judge in Helena, where he was due to be tried for robbing a pawn shop in Springdale at gunpoint. His mother had been very helpful, liking the fact that Marti seemed like “a nice girl” who might “ask” her son to let her put him in handcuffs rather than shooting him. His mother didn’t want Marlon hurt, even though his skip might cost her the home she’d lived in since she’d married Marlon’s no-account, long-dead father.

Marti was just about to call it a day, figuring she had just enough daylight left to get back to her SUV parked behind Marlon’s at the roadside park, when she spotted a puff of dark smoke rising over the gully. Noting its direction, she climbed up a steep embankment, seeking footholds in mud and rock and grabbing vines along the sides of the rocky face until she stood at the top and realized the land on this side of the stream was flatter and filled with tall spring grass—and a herd of buffalo that didn’t seem to pay her any mind as she bent over and dragged in deep breaths. She glanced at her hands braced on her knees and grimaced, because they were covered in mud, which she shouldn’t give a shit about because her jeans were streaked with dirt as well.

Marlon had a lot to answer for, but thoughts of the rich bounty she’d score kept her from throwing in the towel. Her mother liked to say that stubborn was her middle name, which was a quality that worked well in her line of work. She always got her man because she never, ever gave up. She’d been bounty hunting for nearly three years now, the last one going solo because she didn’t like sharing her bounty with a partner or an agency, although she was considering working for one again. Agencies often served as bail bondsmen, too, and therefore had the downlow first on the richer bounties. Fetch Winter from Montana Bounty Hunters had been working on recruiting her to join a new satellite office he was trying to get off the ground in Dead Horse, Montana, to service southwest Montana and into Wyoming. He needed hunters with experience, and he’d heard good things about her.

She’d heard good things about the agency, too, if you discounted the cable TV show that followed his hunters out of Bear Lodge. Fetch gave his crews a higher percentage of the bounty than most agencies did, and he’d assured her that he wouldn’t be looking to do any spin-off series featuring his other offices, but he had admitted that the bonuses for the hunters who permitted the production crews to accompany them were very generous. The job was hers, if she wanted it. But first, she had to find Marlon Oats.

Trying her best not to draw the herd’s attention, she walked along the edge of the ravine, keeping within the narrow line of trees standing along the edge of the ravine as she made her way toward the place she believed a campfire had been lit.

As she drew closer, she stayed hidden and peered into a clearing. A small tent had been pitched, one that had seen better days. One of the screen windows was torn, and one of the poles that held up the tarp over the door was missing. But she couldn’t make out whether anyone was presently occupying the campsite.

Just then, she heard movement coming from the stream below and a soft off-key whistling. Hunkering down, she waited patiently until the person climbed over the edge of the embankment and stood.

“Marlon, you sweet idiot,” she said under her breath. Her heartbeats quickened, and she drew slow breaths. She needed calm, not adrenaline, to get closer to her target.

Marlon strolled toward his campsite holding a string of four fish, which he lowered into a pot beside the fire. As he began taking them out, one at time, gutting and filleting them, and then tossing the pieces into a pan he’d filled with oil, she moved closer, choosing her footsteps carefully, grateful for the chorus of gargling grunts from the buffalo nearby that masked the sounds her feet made in the suctioning mud.

She studied Marlon to see what challenges he might present. A rifle leaned against the tent, and he held a knife in his hand. Slowly, she dropped her backpack to the ground and drew her own 10mm Remington from the holster on her thigh, and then began to work her way toward the edge of the tree line, knowing she’d eventually have to expose her position to prevent him from making a move toward the rifle.

Soft chuffing grunts sounded from the herd, but she ignored the animals, keeping her gaze fixed on the more dangerous game in front of her.

Then she stepped on a twig, and it snapped.

Marlon’s gaze swung toward her position, and his eyes widened. His gaze shot to the rifle, but she shook her head.

“I’m a Fugitive Recovery Agent, so you know why I’m here,” she said, keeping her tone low and hard.

Eyes still wide, his body tensed as though he was preparing to bolt upwards and make a run for it.

“Don’t even think about running,” she bit out.

He blinked, and his gaze went to something behind her. “Bitch, you might want to think about making a run for it.” Then a smile stretched across his face as he slowly stood and waved his arms.

What the fuck…?

Then she heard it. A deep, gargling grunt. With her handgun still held in both hands in front of her, she darted a glance behind her. Read the rest of this entry »

Need a full-length, highly erotic, paranormal thrill ride? Well, it’s FREE now—but only for a very short time! The sequel story, Dark Seduction, comes out on April 19th, so I thought you might want to see what came first before you pre-order your copy!

In the meantime, here’s what Dark Legacy is all about…

Dark Legacy

How could everything have changed for Natalie Lambert so radically, so quickly?

Escaping from a tragic past, the virginal beauty arrives in New Orleans and falls victim to a series of strange, unearthly attacks. Now, for the first time in her life, Natalie aches with sexual desire. Confused, frightened, out of control, she struggles desperately to understand a world that is transforming around her. But soon she will be powerful and magnificent in ways she could never have imagined…

A ruggedly handsome Cajun policeman, Detective Rene Broussard has come to rescue Natalie in her time of greatest need. And when he inexplicably wakes in bed beside her—both burning with a lust impossible to deny—he doesn’t care that a dark and vengeful enemy has brought them to this moment. All that matters is the irresistible curve of her body, the heat of her passion…and the forbidden pleasures the night promises.

With one sharp, sensuous, biting kiss, he will be hers for life…and beyond.

Pick up your FREE copy here: Dark Legacy

I’m busy writing to “The End” of No Tender Mercy! There’s no pressure like release dates to get my fingers moving!

If some of you missed the first Texas Vampires story, Her Sanctuary, it’s a great time now to pick up your copy. Kate and Ty are featured in this story too, but it’s Diego’s turn to find the human of his dreams. 🙂

Here’s the info about Book #1:

Get your copy here!

Both are set in Post-Apocalypse Texas where werewolves and vampires are thriving during a nuclear winter. I had fun with book #1, describing ranch-life, cowboys on horses, trying to survive. This time, the gang is at Fort Davis, Texas. So—vampire soldiers protecting human refugees. Did I mention the stories are erotic romances? Yes, fun times. These stories are shorter (and cheaper) than my bounty hunters—a quick afternoon’s read!

No Tender Mercy

Pre-order your copy here!

Who says the apocalypse has to be the end of good times?

For Diego, the career his father had insisted was his destiny turned out to be the perfect preparation for the end of times. The Army made him a warrior—and then it turned him into a monster.

Excerpt from No Tender Mercy…

Diego Salazar strode through the Operations Building, needing to get outside, needing the night air to revive him. He felt edgy, bordering on reckless. Deadly emotions—for anyone around him, that was. Worse, he was bored.

He passed the Comms room but didn’t glance inside. Kate McKinnon was manning the radio, flipping through channels, trying to find other survivors, who’d been like her—needful of rescue and protection. She’d found her calling since arriving at the post; Diego didn’t feel the same sense of urgency about finding lost souls in the wilderness. Hadn’t he offered enough to mankind?

He kept moving, walking swiftly past the Ops conference room, where his best friend, Ty Bennett, was giving the nightly briefing to the roving patrol. Same ole-same ole: watch for breaks in the fences, report any signs of infiltration, make sure no vampires abused their hosts, blah-blah-blah. He pushed through the exit, stepped outside, and took a deep breath.

Instantly, he felt alive, alert. Freed by the darkness. His glance shot upward.

Moonlight glowed silver behind a black cloud, the only illumination in an otherwise dark sky. Although meager, the moonlight bathed his face, giving him calm as well as a surge of energy.

Diego stared at the sky, admiring the way the moon’s rays backlit the thinner wisps of cloud cover then disappeared completely behind the thick tufts of charcoal gray. Clouds that rarely held rain. He had always loved looking at the night sky. When he’d been younger, he’d owned a telescope and had spent many late nights searching for the objects on Messier’s list of astronomical objects, trying to tick them off because finding them all would’ve proven to himself that his future held more than his father had already decided. In this endless night, he missed seeing stars. Before the world had gone to shit, he’d taken for granted the glorious sight of the Milky Way stretched across the sky. What he wouldn’t give for a glimpse of that majesty…

Glimpses of a starry sky had been few and far between for years now.

Feeling tense again, Diego patted his jacket pockets, found his pack, and shook out a cigarette. Once it was lit, he took long drags off the cigarette, pulling until the glowing ring reached the filter. He didn’t like wasting a millimeter of a smoke because, soon, the stash he’d squirreled away over months of supply heists would be gone. Smoking was the one last guilty pleasure he allowed himself. A middle finger thrust straight into the air at life. Once upon a time, he’d denied himself this particular sin because he’d cared about his health. However, dying of cancer was no longer a concern—one good thing that had come of the decision he’d made in the final days before The Apocalypse had created an eternal night.

The career his father had insisted was his destiny as a Salazar had turned out to be the perfect preparation for the End of Times. The Army had made him a warrior—and then it had turned him into a monster so that he could fight other monsters.

He dropped the cigarette then ground it beneath the heel of his boot. He was sure Ty, the elected commander of this regiment, although they no longer used their military titles, would be looking for his sitrep soon. While no longer part of the U.S. Army, they had to maintain the same discipline and order. Without rules, they could easily devolve. Their altered natures already tempted them to push against the bounds of civilized behavior. More than one of their unit had been “put down” when they’d surrendered to their darker appetites.

When the keys to the fortress had been handed to them as the Army abandoned this western post, they’d made the decision to continue their mission. Partially to protect innocents trapped in this wasteland but mostly to give themselves a purpose, so they’d stay on the narrower path. They were the last outpost in the New Frontier. While the civilian populations had congregated for safety in the eastern cities, they’d remained to protect any last vestiges of human populations from the wolves and the human predators that roamed the West.

Just a week ago, they’d left the safety of their post to rescue stragglers to the south from a ranch near Tierney, Texas. Kate, a few of her ranch hands, and three families had accepted their offer of shelter. Kate was now Ty’s woman. She’d brought horses and a breeding pair of cattle to begin a new herd inside the fence. How they’d feed the animals was still to be determined. The sky remained filled with dark clouds, and the grass within the fort’s boundaries was sparse and withered. At least, the rabbits the mess unit bred in cages had vegetable scraps from the indoor greenhouse they kept lit in a helicopter hangar, powered by the wind. No humans would die from lack of food here. In addition to the rabbits and vegetables they grew, they had a storage warehouse full of old rations. The hope was that the skies would clear enough to let sunshine pierce the gray clouds, so that, one day, life could return to a semblance of normal for the humans. Then they could grow gardens and raise livestock in greater abundance to survive until civilization returned.

The thought neither Ty nor Diego ignored was that sunshine would likely spell the end of the vampires when humans no longer needed their protection.

The vampires outside the post’s fences weren’t winning any popularity contests. As feral as the wolves, their indiscriminate killing kept the humans inside from fully trusting the soldiers, even those who had remained human and understood why some of their brothers had been turned; they were all treated with suspicion by the refugees.

For now, the turned soldiers and the humans shared a symbiotic relationship. The living fed the vampires. The vampires provided their superior senses, speed, and strength to keep the humans alive.

Which reminded him that he needed to eat. His stomach felt hollow, which made his mood dark. Until he was replenished, he’d snap out of irritation at the slightest provocation. He strode toward the mess hall. A room to the side of the cafeteria was kept for feedings. Human guards supervised the vampires’ meals to ensure the safety of those who volunteered their blood.

He wondered who’d be available. Ty was fortunate to have his own blood whore, although Diego would never call her that in front of him. Kate provided some of his friend’s needs, but Ty still needed other donors so he didn’t sap her strength.

The families that had come from Sanctuary Ranch had been leery of the arrangement, at first, and since Ty had promised that no one would be forced to provide for them, they’d been slow to volunteer.

Until they’d learned from the human soldiers that there was pleasure in giving. At first, the males had volunteered, “sacrificing” for their families. Then one husband had brought his wife, and they’d shared the pleasure. Now, all three families donated regularly. Only the children were left completely off-limits. A rule that was strictly enforced. If a vampire were to drink from a child, the penalty was death.

The door to the “blood mess” was open, and light from a gas lantern beckoned. When he stepped inside, he found a lone female sitting in an armchair, a book opened on her lap. She glanced up as he entered, and a pretty blush crept up from her neck to fill her cheeks.

She was a plain woman—full hips, small breasts, hair neither blond nor brown. Late thirties, he’d have guessed, but knowing the hardships she’d faced to survive, she could be younger.

Already, her heart thudded loudly.

The guard was asleep with his head thrown back and his mouth open. Diego would make sure his squad leader handled that problem, but for now, he liked that they wouldn’t have a witness.

“Melissa, isn’t it?” he asked softly.

She nodded, glanced quickly at the still sleeping guard then back at Diego. Was she afraid?

When she tilted her head toward the doorway, he understood. She wanted a little something more in return for her “gift.”

His mouth stretched into a smile, and he held out his hand to help her up from her chair. The moment her warm fingers slid across his skin he started getting hard.

She’d showered. Her hair and body smelled like strawberries. Her blond-brown hair gleamed in the golden light, but he led her through the doorway into the darkened cafeteria.

“I haven’t seen you here before,” he said.

“It’s my first time,” she whispered.

He chuckled to put her at ease. “A virgin?”

“Hardly, but…yes.”

“I’ll be gentle.”

Her fingers pressed against his, and her pulse sped. “You don’t have to be.”

Diego grinned in the dark.

Sometimes, he enjoyed being the apex predator. Who said The Apocalypse couldn’t be fun?

After a few authors mentioned their disappointment that they wouldn’t have their stories done in time, I decided to extend the deadline. So, authors, keep writing those Silver Soldiers stories! DD

*~*~*

SILVER SOLDIERS:  A BOYS BEHAVING BADLY ANTHOLOGY
Editor: Delilah Devlin
Deadline: April 5, 2022

SILVER SOLDIERS is open to all authors.

Editor/Author Delilah Devlin is looking for stories for a romantic erotica anthology tentatively entitled SILVER SOLDIERS:  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 your short story into a novel.

Here’s what I’m looking for…

SILVER SOLDIERS: A BOYS BEHAVING BADLY ANTHOLOGY will include stories that satisfy the reader who craves stories with older alpha male heroes. Those salt-and-pepper hotties with crow’s feet earned through rugged training and years of combat. Former soldiers finding their footing after their first careers, or current soldiers nearing the end of their military careers. They’re ready to find the right partner to put down roots, ones who aren’t afraid of scars and rough edges.

SILVER SOLDIERS will seek stories with varied settings here on earth, grounded in reality, or soldiers who might be something a bit more than human—supernatural creatures, or even aliens and cyborgs. The only requirement is that these soldiers understand loyalty, allegiance, and real courage.

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) the story is a romance, and 2) 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 biography, written in the third person, and send to bbbsilversoldiers@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 try to respond no later than June 15, 2022 with decisions.

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

Who is Delilah Devlin?

Delilah Devlin is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of romance and erotic romance. She has published nearly two hundred stories in multiple genres and lengths and has been 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 has 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, Stranded: A Boys Behaving Badly Anthology, First Response: A Boys Behaving Badly Anthology, and Cowboys: A Boys Behaving Badly Anthology.

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

For those who haven’t tried audio, it is one of the fastest growing segments of literary options, ideal for busy people who still want to enjoy a good book, so you really should. I’ve been blessed with several great narrators, with books in a variety of genres – although I consider myself primarily an epic fantasy writer – finding the right narrator has had it’s ups and downs.

I use ACX/Audible because it gives you the option to do a royalty share, a combination of share and pay up front or paying the narrator their stated fee. I do a royalty share because it gives the narrator and me a stake in the success or failure.

Choosing a narrator, for me, is a matter of matching the audition and voice to a given project, finding if your styles mesh, and the narrator’s interest in the project. Two of my narrators give me different voices for different characters, and another changes the timbre of voice. Make certain you discuss expectations – not just for time, but how it will be delivered. One narrator recorded several chapters, didn’t post them for my review, and had to go back to clearly delineate what character was speaking. Communication is important, in both directions. One gives me his ‘raw’ version – mistakes, flubs, pronunciation errors or questions – and sometimes he’s really funny. And, periodically he sends me his ‘blooper’ reel which is a riot.

It wasn’t a new experience for me, many of my books are in audio, but hearing another interpretation of what I’ve written has been a fascinating experience. In at least one case, the voice for a favorite character is now the narrator’s interpretation, another caught the characters’ accents perfectly (and his voice is like melted butter, smooth, warm, and rich).

Both Director’s Cut and Fire Season are in production for the audio versions so I can’t attach the retail samples yet, but they are both out in print.

Fire Season
A Paranormal Reverse Harem

Excerpt from Fire Season…

The wildfire consuming the forest had a voice all its own. Each did, Ari had found. He listened to the hungry, angry roar, the crack of tree limbs giving way, the small explosions as burls within the trees’ boles burst. The sound surrounded him, spoke to him. Ari kept half an eye on the rapidly spreading inferno. The canopy of leaves and pine needles above him and his people was still intact but in the near distance he could see licks of flame swirling around trunks, reaching higher. The tops of other trees burned like torches. Another ignited even as he watched.

The heat of the blaze, the parched air, baked him within his gear. He could barely breathe, despite his air bottle.

On this part of the mountain the rough, uneven terrain worked against them, kept them from using the tanker and trucks – the vehicles were too far away, the hoses couldn’t reach – so they were fighting the fire hand to hand.

His team worked hard and steadily, cutting some trees, digging up turf, shoveling the debris and dirt and tossing them aside. All they could do was hope to create a firebreak wide and long enough to stop the flames from advancing. At least to hold for long enough to allow them to fight the blaze itself. Even as he worked alongside his people, he kept an eye on them. He anchored one end of the line, Jase the other. Every one of them knew their job but, focused on the task at hand, even as experienced as they were, they relied on him to keep the line straight and true so they didn’t need to shift their attention from what they were doing.

Nor were they alone. Just beyond Jase was a team from the local firehouse doing the same thing – cutting a firebreak. Other teams from the local department’s two firehouses were scattered over the mountain, using their equipment where the land allowed.

Like him, that team leader worked hard, wielding a chainsaw like a sword, shouting instructions he couldn’t hear over the blaze to her people and department over the radio, keeping everyone apprised.

Something about that one, their stance, the way they carried themselves, and their short stature told him the leader was a woman, rare among firefighters.

The way her people responded to her instructions and orders, swiftly and without argument, told Ari she was good at what she did and respected.

Not for a moment did he allow his attention to wander for more than the second needed for that brief appraisal. It was too dangerous.

Ari sensed the wind shift even as the leader of the other team went stiff and looked up. The roar changed, hungry for fresh fuel as the fire turned. She saw it even as he did. Embers blew above them, past them. The fire, hungry for fuel, hungry for air, and powered by the strengthening breeze, leaped from one tree to another…toward them.

“Out, out, RUN! The wind shifted. GO! GO! GO!” Ari shouted, and he could hear an echo of his words as he signaled to Jase at the end of their line. The other team leader had her radio keyed even as she shouted and gestured to her people.

Amidst the raging blaze, the sound of one tree falling into another to topple against a second was hardly noticeable. The movement wasn’t.

Branches showered from above, some ablaze, falling even as Jase echoed Ari’s words, then turned to run and so didn’t see the danger. Like Ari, the other team leader was doing a headcount, making sure all her people were on the move, no one left behind.

A large falling branch sent Jase sprawling, and knocked his helmet, mask, and air bottle askew.

Even as a second branch, larger than the first, cracked, ready to fall, Ari was moving. As fast as he was, he knew he wasn’t fast enough to reach Jase in time.

The other team leader, closer, with her own people already on the run, did see and didn’t hesitate. She threw herself over Jase and turned turtle, tucking her chin in close to Jase’s vulnerable neck so her helmet and air tank would take the impact as she tried to cover as much of Jase as she could.

When the branch struck, Ari winced. At the very least, she would have cracked or broken ribs, if not worse, and Jase as well. As long as luck was on their side.

The fire was closing. They didn’t have much time or else find themselves trapped by the flames. It was no small branch, and they had to move it quickly, both for the sake of the two pinned beneath it and their own.