Thank you very much for having me today, Delilah!

I would like to share with the world, my VERY FIRST book, Sword’s Call (King’s Rider’s Book 1).

This story is very close to my heart because I literally had a dream about it about thirteen years ago. I have been writing since I was a teenager, but over the years I would go back and forth, not really writing consistently. Until a few years ago when I decided to “get serious” about it and got back to this story, wrote, re-wrote, edited and finished it. Ultimately, I sold it to my AWESOME publisher, Gypsy Shadow Publishing.

Post a comment today and one lucky winner will win their choice of a swag pack (including a tee or totebag) or a copy of my book, in e-book format.

For generations, the Ryhans, ruling family of the Province of Greenwald have been keepers of a sword rumored to possess enough magic to defeat kings. Lord Varthan, a former archduke and betrayer of the king, covets the sword and invades Greenwald.

Lady Ceralda Ryhan, daughter of the murdered duke, gains the sword and flees, trusting only her white wolf, Trikser—magically bonded to her. Cera needs nothing more to aid in her fight.

Jorrin Aldern, half elfin and half human, left his home in the mountains of Aramour to find his human father who disappeared twenty turns before, but finds Cera with Varthan and his shades on her tail instead. His dual heritage and empathic magic will tempt Cera in ways she never thought she’d desire. But can he convince her trust and love can pave the path to redemption or will the epic battle end in tragedy and evil conquer them all?

“Tell me about it,” Jorrin encouraged.

“I pictured our magic as a rope and wrapped it around us. I stepped into him, making us one. I concentrated and I saw you. But then I saw me, too. My eyes were closed, and I felt like I was sitting beside myself. It was…unsettling, at first. But then Trik must have moved his head, because I saw into the woods…he turned, right?”

He grinned at her. “Yes, he did. You did do it.”

“His eyesight is so sharp. It was a wonder to see.” Their eyes locked and held. Air ruffled her hair, causing gooseflesh to rise on her neck as a substantial breeze kicked up.

Trikser made a noise in his throat but she ignored him.

Jorrin looked so wild and beautiful with the wind in his dark hair, his high cheekbones flushed with color to the tips of his slender tapered ears. Her heart skipped as his blue eyes darkened and she read intense heat there.

Last night he’d been in her dreams. Try as she might, Cera could no longer deny that she was attracted to him. That she’d liked that kiss he stole what seemed ages ago.

Would he kiss her again? Heat crept up her neck and burned her cheeks.

The way he was looking at her right then made her lose her train of thought and her worries.

“Tell Trikser to move.”

“What?” But Cera already sent the mental command. Her bond slipped off her lap with little encouragement. He’d caught sight of a rabbit, and took off after it.

Jorrin grabbed her hand and tugged forward. She fell onto his lap, moving to him instead of away, ignoring mental cautions that this wasn’t a good idea, despite her dreams, her admitted attraction.

Their lips met in heated rushed. Cera’s arms shot around his neck and she pressed closer. His body was hard against hers and a tremor shot down her spine.

Her breasts pressed into his chest as he pinned her against him. Jorrin shoved his tongue into her mouth and groaned. She clung to him, moving her mouth under his

When she touched her tongue to his, he moaned, his hands shooting down to cup her bottom.

Cera wiggled in his arms as an unfamiliar warmth enveloped her like an embrace. Jorrin’s erection pressed into her hip and she clutched his tunic with both hands.

When he kissed her harder, her head spun. Feeling his urgency, confusion rushed her. She moaned, fighting the sensation of his warmth, his strength as he squeezed her against him. Her desire for more. Her desire for him. She couldn’t lose control.

Yanking back, she panted against him.

Jorrin’s chest heaved into her breasts as they both struggled for breath. “What’s wrong?” he croaked.

WHERE YOU CAN FIND IT!

Gypsy Shadow | Barnes and Noble | Amazon |Amazon UK | ARe|Smashwords

About me:

Sword’s Call is C.A.’s first book, and is the first in the King’s Riders Series. C.A. also has a Romanic suspense, Collision Force, published by Total-E-Bound Publishing and will be released July 1, 2013.

C.A. is originally from Ohio, but got to Texas as soon as she could. She is married and has a bachelor’s degree in Criminal Justice.
She works with kids when she’s not writing.
She’s always wanted to be a writer and is overjoyed to share her stories with the world.

Where to find ME online:
Blog: www.caszarekwriter.blogspot.com
Facebook: www.facebook.com/caszarek
Twitter: @caszarek
I LOVE to hear from readers: caszarekauthor@gmail.com

This Republic of Suffering: Civil War fiction in a twenty-first century world

I’m a history girl with a writing problem.  Or, maybe a writing girl with a history problem; regardless, I have an out of control passion for the American Civil War.  I am a Civil War reenactor.  I like Civil War trivia.  I like running around Civil War battlefields.  My blog, The Rambling Jour, is actually named after an obscure firsthand account of the clerk of the provost marshal’s office in Harper’s Ferry during the war.

And I like writing about the Civil War.

Don’t get me wrong, there are things about the Civil War I don’t like.  I’ve never read Gone with the Wind.  Tactics and strategies put me to sleep.  I thrive in the effect the war had on civilians and medical procedures.  I’d rather read about the role of women and how that role changed as the war changed.

My recently completed novel, Anything You Ask of Me, is about all three of those key elements.  In 1862, a society girl turned spy must decide which is more important: the married general who asks her to risk everything for him, or the man tasked to stop her at any cost.

There is a monument in Gettysburg, near the copse of trees on the third day’s portion of the battlefield, inscribed with a few simple words: Double canister at twenty yards.

Canister shot.  Canister shot is basically a tin can full of golf ball sized steel balls; it turns an artillery piece into a giant shot-gun.  Double canister is two rounds of canister shot jammed into the barrel of the piece.

The effect of the human body is devastating.  These are the men listed in the ominous “missing” column in the ranks of casualties.  These are the men who simply disappear in a pink mist.

We have a nasty habit of referring to the Civil War as “the last gentleman’s war” or the last war before the initiation of modern warfare.  But this is so far from the truth.  Soft lead bullets, like the Minié ball, enter the body the size of a quarter but come out the size of a pancake.  If a soldier survives his wound, it is more than likely he will die of infection.  In the 1860s, we could see bacteria under microscopes—we knew it was there—but we didn’t understand how it impacted the human body.  This was the cusp of medical breakthroughs.  The war forced us to understand.

This is why I write historical fiction.

I’m a twenty-first century girl.  I drive an SUV to work.  I sit in front of a computer all day long.  I listen to Swedish Death Metal (I know, this actually surprised me too) on my iPhone while I edit my novel on my laptop.  I talk on a cell phone and wear jeans and eyeliner and take for granted all of our modern conveniences.

But I’ve also been cinched into a corset.  I’ve ridden in the back of a temperance wagon and marched in a temperance parade.  I’ve sat in a dry goods store and hand sewn a quilt by kerosene lamp and sewn on a period treadle sewing machine.  I’ve felt the rumble in my chest when a 12 pound light gun howitzer artillery piece was fired near me.  I’ve done archaeology of an antebellum house and held shattered pottery in my hand, textiles not handled by a human since, in one moment one hundred and fifty years ago, it broke and was discarded.  I’ve been touched by the past and it haunts me.  I refuse to forget the sacrifices of those who came before us and stared death in the face—and chose to march forward anyway.

This is why I write historical fiction.  Because those who are remembered, never die.

Heather Hambel Curley is just a hot momma writing a novel about (what else?) the Civil War and the brutally hot men who fought it.  And she likes cupcakes.  For more, she can be found at http://heatherhambelcurley.wordpress.com or http://www.facebook.com/heatherhambelcurley

A Canadian Holiday

Worth the Risk was written in response to a submission call looking for stories with a Canadian theme.  Since, I’m a Canadian, I figured, hey, I can do that.  I can even throw in a few “eh’s” and “aboot’s” (just kidding, we actually say “about” like everyone else 😀 ).

The underlying premise of my story was inspired by something that happened to me more than a few years ago. But, no spoilers are being given away here, so instead I thought I’d provide a little history lesson around the Canadian weekend during which Worth the Risk takes place.

Origins

May 24^th, or the Monday before May 25 is officially known as Victoria Day.

The holiday, named after British monarch – Queen Victoria – gave royal assent to Confederation. She was born on May 24, 1819, ascended to the throne in 1837 and ruled until 1901 – holding the longest reign in British history. This is also how the term Victorian era was coined, a period of significant change in many areas for the British Empire.  Parliament declared her birthday a statutory holiday in 1845.

When Victoria died in 1901, the day officially became known as Victoria Day. Through the years, however, the birthdays for the reigning King or Queen was also celebrated. That’s a lot of cake!  Apparently, continuous improvement and process efficiency are not new ideas, for in 1952 a decision was made, and proclamation passed, to declare the Monday before May 25^th as the official day to celebrate both Victoria’s and the current reigning sovereign’s birthdays.  Party poopers.

Today in Canada, May 24 signifies a few things. Winter is over, and summer is just around the corner. We can start planting our veggies and flowers without the risk of frost.  More importantly, it’s the traditional long weekend when we open camps and cottages, and for those in the north, it signifies the start of summer Blackfly season. Believe me, they are horrible little bugs that get in your hair, your eyes and they love to feast on little children.

The reference to ‘two-four’ rather than ‘twenty-fourth’ is a Canadian inside joke referring to the obligatory case of 24 bottles of beer.  Provincial parks and camp grounds begin officially accepting visitors, and community parks and outdoor patios are thriving. You’ll see fireworks in all major cities, and many small communities.  The barbeques are hot, friends and family are near, and the pool is being prepped.

We’ve got nicknames for it: May Two-Four, May long weekend, May Long or even Firecracker Day.  But for most Canadians, this particular weekend starts things rolling for the next few months.  And regardless of the weather (cause quite often it’s cold and wet), WE DON’T CARE! It’s time to party!

So, here’s Worth the Risk. I hope you enjoy your weekend!

Even the hottest sex might not be enough to ease the pain of the past…

Molly Simpson arrives at a beautiful provincial park, ready to spend the May Two-Four holiday camping with friends. This weekend is the highlight of her year—or it was, until Tanner Daivies showed up. Her high school crush is all grown up, sexy as sin, and he’s demanding answers—answers Molly isn’t sure she can give him. She had her reasons for leaving him all those years ago, but now, sex with Tanner is scorching, and when they’re together, it’s clear they were never meant to be apart. But the past doesn’t want to stay buried, and Molly isn’t sure reliving it is worth the risk…

Excerpt: (if you’d prefer – just use the hyper link which goes back to my site)

It was really him. Curiosity got the better of her, and she glanced back over her shoulder. Memories assaulted her as he removed his six-foot-plus frame from the car to stand in the center of the welcome circle. Her friends were all talking at him, their voices filled with excitement. Judging by his glazed expression, their reaction left him a little overwhelmed.

Ten years. She rubbed her chest, thinking back to the invisible ache that had bothered her earlier on the drive here. She’d struggled the entire two hours to keep her focus on the road and not on painful memories from her past. Read the rest of this entry »

Writing a Sex Scene With the Lights Off

I have always loved to read. I lean towards the suspense genre, but I love a good erotic story. Who doesn’t? But I found out fast that reading and writing a sex scene are two different things, and I suck at writing them.

In my first book I have one sex scene. I swear I wrote it with the lights off. You see I grew up in a strict Irish Catholic home and went to a catholic school. My mother never mentioned that word in the house and the nuns would send us to confession if they even thought we had those ideas in our head. I will admit I spent many hours in confession.  🙂   I just felt guilty, but once I got older I realized god was not reading over my shoulder.

Now I want a story to grab me, pull me in, and make me feel like I’m part of the scene. That’s what I want from a book I write. When I was younger I would blush and skim over the parts that described the anatomy.  So when I made an attempt at a short erotic story it was like an anatomy lesson. Part A touches part B Then puts C into D and so on. I had 2300 words written when I stopped to read it. I laughed for hours at how funny I sounded. It was like I was in confession trying to explain my sins. Boy do I need a support group.  I decided to scrap that attempt. I’m not going to quit trying. I am determined to get one hot, sweaty sex scene that will pull you in and make you wish you were the one tied to the bed.

Like I said, in my first full length novel I have one sweet love scene. There is heavy petting, even with the description of body parts, yah me. But towards the end we fade to black and I let your imagination finish the rest. Sounds like a copout but it was the best I could do at the time. I decided it was time to come, (no pun intended), to terms with my past and take a class in erotic writing and BDSM. I know, I’m jumping in pretty deep and there is a reason. My character, Davis, is a by the book FBI agent with a secret and it has to do with a lot of bondage and an undercover assignment that will take him to the dark areas of a life no one knows he has. I know, you’re all laughing thinking I will need a ghost writer for that one.  It was not my idea, it was his. We all know our characters write their own story, or do they?

Did you ever have a problem writing a scene, and if so what was it and what did you do to work past it?

I think someone should write a book called…Writing erotic for dummies. I learn better with a little guidance and a lots of pictures.

My new release, Rescued from the Dark, published through Black Opal Books.

FBI agent, Jason Michaels goes undercover with the Irish Mob to get information on their gun smuggling ring. While on assignment he realizes they have joined forces with a known terrorist group manufacturing drugs. He searches for information to tie the two together when he finds out they have kidnapped a fellow agent, and the only girl he has ever loved. Jason soon realizes their using Mercy to perfect their dosage and that his cover has been blown. He knows he has to save her so takes off on a  journey that will take him up against his enemies, peers and the Agency that he loves, but willing to give up to bring Mercy back to him.

She has no memory of their love…

Kidnapped by terrorists and sent into a drug-induced coma, FBI intern Mercedes Kingsley awakes with no memory of her ordeal—or the intimate interlude that left her pregnant. Convinced her child was fathered by her fiancé, she walks away from the only man she has ever loved, determined to make things work with her ex, a man the FBI suspects is implicated in her abduction.

He knows the truth, but no one will listen…

FBI undercover agent Jason Michaels remembers what Mercy can’t and those memories are breaking his heart. Forced to keep his distance from his lover and their unborn child, Jason risks his life to protect Mercy from a cell of international terrorists who have vowed to get the secrets locked in her memory, no matter the cost. Can Jason convince Mercy to trust him until she remembers their past, or will he lose her to a man who will trap her in a nightmare world of darkness for which there is no escape?

An explosion ricocheted behind Jason Michael’s eyes as the pressure mounted in his head. The rush of panic consumed him. He struggled to move, tried to swallow, but nothing. His throat burned as the flames engulfed his lungs. He needed to breathe but couldn’t. Shit. He strained to make out the muffled voice, but the pounding in his ears erased all hope. His head started to spin and he succumbed to the realization, this was it, the end. He won. The flames dampened and his heartbeat slowed as the drums subsided, then the voice became clear.

“Give it to him now you son of a bitch. What were you thinking? We still need him.” Read the rest of this entry »

Self-Fulfilling Prophecies

 The older I get, the more I believe we live a life of self-fulfilling prophecies.

I grew up with grandparents who used to quote from the old version of the King James Bible (Proverbs 23:7):  “As you think, so shall ye be.” I thought the idea was a bunch of hooey at the time. More and more, I find I use goal visualization as an essential part of daily living. Visualization is how I stay focused while writing and marketing.

Here’s how I do it. I create in my mind’s eye the result I want to accomplish. I then decide on the “baby” steps needed to get to the goal. I’ve learned to be patient and wait for the process to work itself out. I use these visualizations to keep stress off my shoulders. With specific goals in mind and taking the steps needed to reach the goal, I can’t ask more of myself. No need to stress out.

At some point, I started wondering how I could use “self-fulfilling prophecy” in a love story where my heroine wants to find an ideal mate. One thing I decided right off was that, if she is what she thinks, she can’t obsess over all the wrongs done to her by men. To obsess would fill her mind with everything she doesn’t want to happen. According to the self-fulfilling prophecy, those obsessions would come true.

She’d instead have to look for all the things she loves about men and decide which of those she’d like rolled into one “ideal” male. My heroine’s biggest challenge would be to stay focused on that “ideal” male package and not let contradictory, negative thoughts interfere—whether from her past, her friends and family or from the media. Negativity would bounce her out of her vision. Her eyes would be blinded so she wouldn’t be able to recognize her ideal man if he was in front of her nose.

Years ago I read that it takes ten positive thoughts to wipe out one negative thought. I made a commitment to be as optimistic about my writing goals as I can be and not have waste time overcoming those negative thoughts.

In the novel, despite the passage of time, staying positive and focused on what she wants would be my character’s biggest challenge. Sadly, I never wrote the novel, but I did start using visualization in my own life.

For example, if I’m giving a talk on writing techniques, I don’t think of all the things that can go wrong. I think instead of what I want the audience to get out of the talk. If I assign a writing goal to myself as I go to bed, I don’t wake up in the morning and go over a list of things in my head that could go wrong and get in the way of accomplishing that goal. I wake up focused on the goal and believing I can accomplish it. In most cases, this turns out to be true.

Of course, sometimes life gets in the way. I then re-align the goal and re-focus. What I don’t do is whine about how something always gets in the way. That’s self-defeating. If I did that while believing in a self-fulfilling prophecy, that’s how my day would end up–something would always be getting in the way. Instead, I focus on my adjusted goal and keep striving ahead, not fretting that there is still a lot of road to travel.

Optimism must work. I have a contract in hand on my fifth manuscript. With this sale, I will have sold every manuscript I’ve ever written.

I recommend optimism, visualization and staying focused on the goal no matter what you do in life.

What about you? How do you achieve your goals?

JoAnn Smith Ainsworth

MATILDA’S SONG (ISBN: 978-1-60504-195-7)
OUT OF THE DARK (ISBN: 978-1-60504-277-0)
POLITE ENEMIES (ebook ISBN: 978-1-61160-636-2) release Sept. 2013
THE FARMER AND THE WOOD NYMPH (ebook ISBN: 978-1-61160-660-7) release Dec. 2013
http://www.joannsmithainsworth.com/

Visit JoAnn Ainsworth on Facebook and Twitter.

Duty requires sacrifice…but the heart will not be denied.

At the time, pretending marriage to her middle-aged widower cousin seemed like the best way to escape a politically motivated betrothal to a brutal knight. Now, her journey toward a new life has landed her in hot water—she’s been waylaid by a local Norman baron who’s mistaken her for a real bride. And he demands First Night rights.

Hot water turns to steam in a scalding night of passion…passion she has never known. And now must live without.

Lord Geoffrey is entranced at first sight of the Anglo-Saxon beauty and finds that one night in her arms is not nearly enough. But all he can offer the low-born Matilda is a life in the shadows—as his mistress.

Her head warring with her heart, Matilda resigns herself to her duty in a masquerade of a marriage. It’s a choice that could cost her life.

For the knight who first sought her hand is back with murder on his mind. Now it’s Geoff who’s faced with the ultimate choice: which is more precious…his estates or the love of the one woman who can heal his soul?

Warning:  Warning, this title contains the following: a Norman baron who teaches an Anglo-Saxon beauty the medieval mambo in the bedroom. Men fight to the death for this lady’s honor. Read the rest of this entry »

My first novel, ILLICIT IMPULSE, comes out this week from Ellora’s Cave. It’s the story of a neuroscientist, his best friend, her friend with benefits, and some no-strings-attached fun. I had the devil’s own time getting the book finished, but I finally got The Call (in my case, actually, it was The Email) just before Thanksgiving. The journey from The Call to release has been surprisingly brief.

It’s amazing how quickly things move once you finish the book.

My trip to publication really began when I won the Passionate Reads Pitch Contest in February 2011. When I got my first chapters ready to enter in late 2010, I was coming off a tough breakup and really just needed to occupy my time between boyfriends. I didn’t have the whole manuscript ready, but that didn’t worry me very much. The contest didn’t require entrants to have the entire manuscript, and honestly, I was in it mostly for the experience.

I received lots of advice to have the manuscript complete anyway. None of those people would explain to me *why* the manuscript had to be finished, though, especially when the contest didn’t require it. I can be a stubborn person. I am open to advice, as long as it comes with an explanation. Otherwise it looks a lot like direction. I resist direction.

Now I understand why the manuscript has to be finished first, so I can offer you the same advice, along with an explanation.

After I won the contest, the judge, who is now my editor, requested the full manuscript. I explained that I didn’t have much more than she’d already seen. She said she understood – the contest had not required a complete manuscript anyway – and she said she’d wait to see the whole thing. She also specifically told me to take as long as I needed to get the rest of the book ready to submit.

That took just short of two years. I thank my editor for her endless patience in the acknowledgments. She waited for a long time and had to tell me more than once to take as much time as I needed.

But it didn’t have to end this way. Sure, there’s the obvious possibility that your editor might not be as patient as mine is, but there are at least three other excellent reasons not to wait to get your book submitted.

First, there’s that sick feeling of not being finished. Even knowing that someone was willing to wait as long as I needed, I had to face the reality that I wasn’t finished every single day for a pretty long time. That’s just not a pleasant feeling. The oppressive weight of the unfinished project lifts, well, as soon as you finish.

Then, there’s the reality that change is the only constant in the universe. I knew that my publishing house probably wasn’t going anywhere, but there was nothing to stop my editor from leaving. (Not that she would. But she *could.*) If the only person waiting for my manuscript changed jobs or retired or for whatever reason became unavailable, I’d have big problems! There wasn’t any guarantee that any of her successors would be enthusiastic about my book or that my editor would be able to take it with her to her next job. I’d have ended up in limbo, and worse, it would have been my fault.

Finally, let’s say that the publishing house is stable and my editor stays put … but someone with a completed manuscript similar to mine gets her submission in first. There’s no sound business reason for a publisher to hang on to the promise of a book when a real book is available, all other things being equal. The safest alternative was to secure my place with a finished product.

Having said all this, I won that contest with just the three chapters and now I’m an author with my first choice of publishing houses despite the fact that my editor had to wait for years to see my completed manuscript. So I imagine you can take my substantiated advice with a grain of salt.

I just wouldn’t use the whole shaker.

Years of research have led neuroscientist John March to the creation of Impulse, an experimental drug that suppresses the bonding hormone, oxytocin, and would allow women to enjoy sex without commitment. Now he just needs a test subject who’s willing to put Impulse through its paces, a woman who’s not afraid to indulge all her sexual desires and then go on record with her experiences. He needs a woman like his best friend, Grace. She and her boy toy could solve all John’s problems. If only he didn’t want her for himself …

Grace Foley’s dreams have just come true. Her sex-without-strings arrangement with Tal Crusoe has started to feel a bit complicated. Thanks to Impulse, Grace can keep things friendly while making the most of Tal’s abundant benefits. Too bad she can’t have John, too. She’s aching for a little experimentation of her own with the sexy scientist. But once it’s over, could they ever go back to being friends?

How far will two best friends go under the influence of Impulse?

Buy Book

Hello everyone! Thanks to the lovely Delilah for hosting me, yet again.

  In February I got to see the release of my second Taboo line book from Ellora’s Cave. If you’re unfamiliar with that particular line, it features BDSM or kink interest romance books. Collar Me in Paris is the follow up to my December release, Bound with Pearls. Both of these books are firmly in the kinky realm of interest, but Collar Me in Paris is a little different, so I figured I’d tell you the top five reasons why this book rocks and you should read it.

5) The entire book is a drive-by of Paris. I got to use all of my pictures and experiences from my vacation in 2011 to write the tiny details that make the book “real” for the reader. And not everyone will get the chance to visit Paris, so why not enjoy my trip?

4) Collar Me in Paris is about a married couple. I’ll admit, I wrote it for a themed call from Ellora’s Cave that celebrates married couples who keep the fire going, but the characters had their start before that. You first see this couple in Bound with Pearls, where they captivated me and made me want to be their friend. I so had to write about them, and the trials, joys and hardships of what being married means to them.

3) It’s a race! For anyone who has seen or is a fan of The Amazing Race, this book was spawned by that show. My mom and I tried out for it ages ago and almost made it on it. I’ve always wanted to do something with the idea of a race just because I can be pretty competitive. And what would make it more interesting then tossing in some family, a little kink appeal and some sexy times?

2) Sex in non-traditional locations. Okay, this is a destination book. As in the couple goes away from home and when you’re on vacation you tend to be a little more adventurous. So why not bring the sexy action out of the bedroom? This couple is all about doing it where they might be caught.

1) This is a BDSM heavy book, but one thing about this book that’s a little different is that in the power exchange dynamic between the couple, it’s the wife, Bianca, who is the Dominant. At least where the couple has agreed that she’s in charge. I really loved writing this dynamic. Just because the wife is the Dominant role in their power exchange, it doesn’t mean that the husband, Clay, is a doormat. I got to write a super hot, strong, confident man who is also comfortable saying that he likes his wife on top. What’s not to love about a man that adores his wife that much?

That’s my top five reasons why I think everyone should read Collar Me in Paris. It’s a fun book and I’ve really enjoyed putting it out there for people to read.

Is there any TV show out there that you think could be an interesting setting or premise for a romance book?

It can never be said that Sidney Bristol has had a ‘normal’ life.  She is a recovering roller derby queen, former missionary, and tattoo addict. She grew up in a motor-home on the US highways (with an occasional jaunt into Canada and Mexico), traveling the rodeo circuit with her parents. Sidney has lived abroad in both Russia and Thailand, working with children and teenagers. She now lives in Texas where she splits her time between a job she loves, writing, reading and belly dancing.

Website | Twitter | Facebook | Goodreads

Collar Me in Paris is available now from Ellora’s Cave | Amazon | Barnes & Noble

What begins as Clay’s first family vacation with his new wife quickly dives into disaster. He may be the submissive in their relationship, but he’s no shy violet. Bianca has taught him the quickest way to turn her on is a challenge, so he’s throwing down the gauntlet.

Bianca butts heads with not just her brothers but her husband when the family torturing begins. But the joke is on him. She’s ready to put him through the most erotic misery of all. In public, at a night club and all over the city, she’ll show him who is Dominant in their relationship until he’s screaming for more.

Their relaxing Paris vacation turns into a mad dash through the ancient streets, a competition of wills and a new exploration of what it takes to make their relationship work. From bondage, discipline and very public orgasms to navigating the Métro, family feuds and overcoming the language barrier, they’re going to redefine the word fun.

Clay’s  feet squicked inside his tennis shoes. For all of a second he felt guilty for tracking mud and God only knew what else into the apartment, but someone had thoughtfully laid out newspaper and cardboard. Other, equally filthy shoes were lined up, as well as a few articles of clothing too soiled to wear any farther. He toed his shoes off and left them in the foyer. Bianca slammed the door shut and didn’t bother with removing her sneakers. She stomped down the hall to the tune of her family’s laughter and ignored their calls.

Today had not gone well.

That was an understatement.

It had been a wreck.

“There you are!”

“Hey, thought you guys would never make it in.”

“About time you showed up.”

The teasing jibes kept coming as Bianca passed the living room and stormed to their suite.

She was beyond angry.

Angry was a fire ant army out to take a pound of flesh.

Bianca was beyond that. Furious, enraged, those words fit her better, and he didn’t think he had it in him to care anymore. He’d changed from the sub he’d been three years ago who had no limits. He had them now, and being used as an emotional punching bag all day was a yard too far.

Clay paced slowly into the fray. The scent of stale water and excrement clung to his clothing. The sense of accomplishment from having completed the day’s challenges was dampened by the knowledge the rest of her family had finished in half the time and probably with a lot more cooperation from their spouses.

Kevin glanced up from the TV where the brothers were currently engaged in what appeared to be the latest multiplayer shooter game. “You look like shit.”

“Thanks.” Unlike his wife, their razing didn’t bother him. Who were they to him? Her family. Not his.

“Seriously, what took you guys so long?” Michael didn’t divert his attention from the action. He even managed to snag a handful of popcorn and shove it in his mouth without breaking stride.

A random assortment of snack foods littered the coffee table—cheese, crackers, chips, some cookies and even a bottle of wine. The empty plates attested to there being even more to offer at one time.

There was enough there to feed several people. Despite being exhausted, he itched to pack some of the food away.

Jason’s voice broke his concentration. “We missed you guys at dinner. Everything okay?” Unlike his brothers, Jason had paused the game and turned toward him. Michael and Kevin grumbled, but took the opportunity to shovel yet more food in their mouths.

“Yeah, took us longer than you guys. Where are the girls?” He glanced at the kitchen, but still no one.

“They went out shopping or to a show or something,” Michael replied and restarted the game.

The game ramped up and the three brothers began a flurry of attacking something. He’d never understood the appeal of video games, but he hadn’t been exposed to them until he was in high school, and by then other things had taken on more importance. Like finding an after-school job so he could have shoes without holes and jeans that fit.

He shuddered as a chill crept down his spine from the clinging, cold clothing and shook off the nervous tic as well. He’d left those days behind. “How did you guys get into the catacombs so fast? We waited almost two hours.”

Kevin snorted. “Oh fuck waiting.”

“We don’t wait, man. We offer the first people in line fifty bucks and skip the wait.” Michael glanced at him. “You didn’t seriously wait, did you?”

He grimaced. “Yeah, yeah we did.”

“Sucks to be you.” Michael laughed and focused on the game.

“Hey, do you want join in? We probably have a spare controller around here somewhere,” Jason offered.

“No thanks. I’m going to clean up. Tromping through those sewers was gross.”

He left the living room to a chorus of laughter, maybe directed at him or the game, he didn’t care.

Bianca had known her brothers would bribe and do whatever it took to win. That was their way and she hadn’t told him. He’d waited in line for two fucking hours while she gave him the silent treatment. They could have been strategizing, discussing how they wanted to play, learning the rules. But no. He had no way of playing with a full deck if she didn’t confide in him.

They were supposed to be a team.

A fucking team.

He pushed the door to the suite open and slammed it behind him. If she could slam doors, so could he.

Bianca jumped but did not turn around from where she stood at the foot of the bed. This was not the way things were supposed to be between them. Sure, B called the shots and he was comfortable in his role as her husband and submissive. He did not play the role of a carpet to be walked upon.

He ignored the instinct to kneel at the door, to wait for Bianca to present the collar and slip his necklace off. His knees tried to buckle, but he locked them in place. Instead he began removing his jacket and peeling off his shirt. Read the rest of this entry »