The newsletter contest (see September 16th’s blog for the details) continues until the 30th. Today’s blog contest winner is posted at the bottom of this blog. Thanks to everyone who played and wished me well! ~DD

Is First Person Too Close for Comfort?

by Wynter Daniel

Thanks to Delilah for inviting me to guest blog here today. I am in awe of the staggering number of great erotic romances she has published.

Like most erotic romances, all my stories are written in third person. This is a given for most authors. I have written stories in first person, years ago when I dabbled in the young adult market. Most YA stories are presented in first person, although I’m not exactly sure why. I guess first person brings the reader in closer with the protagonist and so many teenagers want so desperately to feel a part of something, even if that something is fiction.

But erotic romance and erotica are a whole different animal from YA. As a writer, putting pen to paper (or fingers to keys) and expressing intimate sexual expression is definitely easier when those expressions are happening to him, to her, to John or to Nancy. When you inject me, I or my, it all feels so personal. Same goes for readers, I think.

So imagine my surprise when I started writing a short erotica story in first person. Sometimes a character just comes to me and I have to immediately work on the story. I wrote the first scene of Customer Service—my upcoming Exotica release with Ellora’s Cave—in one sitting, not even very aware that it was in first person.

I went back the next day and tried to rewrite it in third person, but it was as if my muse had turned his back on me. The scene fell flat. So I went back to the original and kept going. It turned into one of those pieces that practically wrote itself. I suppose sometimes the story takes over and the author is merely the channel.

The heroine is a professional mystery shopper, someone who tests customer service in stores and restaurants, a job I have dabbled with on occasion over the past five years. Maybe that’s part of the reason it felt so natural to write in first person. (Not that I have EVER had an experience similar to my protagonist!)

Customer Service is also more erotica than my usual erotic romance.

But you be the judge. Customer Service releases on September 30. Here’s a little about it:

Mystery shopper Carly Weber’s husband divorced her for a snooty sales woman, leaving Carly with a bruised and battered self-image. When she evaluates a new sex toy and lingerie store, she finds much more than kinky gear. One by one and then together, two hunky salesmen pleasure her and give her the best customer service of her life, restoring her confidence in the process.

You’ll find an excerpt HERE.

Comment on my post and I will enter you in a drawing to win my last EC Quickie, Getting Even with Warren.

From DD: The winner of the blog contest prize package is (by random number generator)…Natalie! Natalie, be sure to email me with your snail mail address. Congrats!

Multiple personalities & a contest!!
By T.L. Schaefer

Howdy, all! I’m Terri Schafer (aka TL Schaefer, aka Keira Ramsay) and today I’m hijacking Delilah’s blog for a bit. As you can see from the very first sentence, I have um…identity issues. Actually, not so much, but when I started writing erotic romance as frequently as I was publishing romantic suspense, something had to give. I just couldn’t write super-steamy stuff as TL…it didn’t seem right, and I’d started writing as TL, so folks were used to reading more about intrigue than lots of explicit sex. As soon as my newsletter readers named me Keira as my erotic pseudonym, though, I was off and running.

Over the years, I’ve had a few folks scratch their heads over my multiple personalities, but after I explain, they get it…it’s not only part of my process, but almost more of a branding thing. Yeah, that’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

Regardless of what name I’m writing under, I’ve always been totally up front about what each of those names mean. At first I was a little hinky about being loud and proud in public (read, places where readers weren’t)…after all, I work for the DoD (as a civilian, not active duty), and big government isn’t exactly known for it’s liberal or artistic tendencies *G*. I quickly got over that when my boss (a full-bird colonel) introduced me to a colleague years ago. “This is Terri Schaefer. She writes pornography in her off-duty hours.” I turned about six shades of purple, shook the visiting colonel’s hand and fled to my office. I would have been upset with my boss, but he obviously took such pride and glee in saying it (he was proud of me and has NO social skills), I quickly got over myself, and started hamming it up. Since then there’s been no looking back, and I’ve been surprised at how much more accepting folks are. Women look at me with that little twinkle in their eye, and men ask for my website so they can show their wives. Not a bad gig at all.

Sooo, now that I’ve shown mine, show me yours *G*!! Tell me about one of your more embarrassing moments as they relate to reading or writing romance and I’ll pick a winner of a choice of any of my backlist, as either Terri OR Keira!! Contest ends 19 September.

Lastly, if you like your heroes in uniform (be they cops, firefighters, or military) and your heroines with a bit of quirk, then wing by www.tlschaefer.com and check out an excerpt or two to wet your whistle!

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Behind Blue Eyes is a 3 August 2010 release from Samhain Publishing.

Crime-scene photographer Sara Covington hides behind her camera from the otherworldly ability that’s caused her nothing but grief her whole life. Yet denial doesn’t protect her when she runs across a serial killer with an aural signature she’s never encountered.

Suddenly she’s without a job and with nowhere to turn…except to an enigmatic, sexy-as-hell detective with a disquieting talent for seeing right through her defenses.

Brian Roney’s fascination with Sara compels him to bring her in on the case that ultimately gets her fired. Even though he senses her mutual attraction, something holds her back from stepping into his arms. He’s as determined to find out why she’s pushing him away as he is to keep her safe.

When the killer strikes again, Sara realizes the only way to stop the madman is come clean about her painful past—and embrace the gift she has so long denied. Before the grisly trail of bodies leads right to her doorstep.

Warning: A sexy alpha cop, a heroine with a past (and super spidey sense) and a maniac on the loose…what’s not to love?

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Now—Dallas, Texas, Tuesday, 8:30 a.m.

If I’d known when I woke up this morning that my life was going to change in a major way—again—I probably would have pulled the covers over my head and hidden like the coward I am.

Instead, I was actually pretty chipper as I took Xena for her morning walk, both of us enjoying the springtime morning sun. Guess that should have been an indicator of things to come.

Around us, the residents of Deep Ellum were going about their business, strolling into the weirdly trendy shops, grabbing cappuccinos, letting their dogs run free in the pocket park. I’d bet if I tipped my glasses down most of their auras would be relaxed and happy. But even as carefree as I felt this morning, opening myself up to strangers’ auras and emotions wasn’t in the cards on any day. At least when I wasn’t on the job, that is.

I slipped Xena off her leash and she scampered through the grass, her tail waving like a flag. Yeah, a shih tzu is such a girly dog, but hey, what can I say? I’m a girl, and the pooch gives me unconditional love. These days I take all the simple joys I can get.

I rescued her from an animal shelter only a few hours before she was to be put down. Don’t ask me what drew me to the SPCA; it’s not like I was looking for a companion, but I found one, nonetheless. Maybe it was two lost souls calling to one another. I’m just glad we found each other in time.

At the thought, a shiver of foreboding rippled through me, making me glance left, then right. There was nothing different about the people surrounding me, or the day in general that seemed out of place. But even as normal as it seemed, I’d learned to trust my intuition a long time ago. I whistled for Xena and boogied back to the loft. With each step I took toward home, my spine became stiffer and my heart heavier.

As I climbed the stairs to my haven, certainty hit me like a punch. There’d be another murder tonight, in my division, and I’d be called in to shoot it. Not that there was any shortage of violent crimes in Dallas on any given night, but the cloud-blotting-the-sun feeling I’d had in the park told me this one would be different. Time to suit up and put my game face on.

Shit. Sometimes being “gifted” with the Sight was a good thing. Most of the time it was a bitch.

Many thanks to my guest today for her inspiring post! ~DD

When I realized I’d be doing my guest post on September 11, I drew a blank. The usual topics about writing process or what makes a hero hot seemed inappropriate on a date associated with tragedy, grief and rage.

Then I got an email from a friend that he and his crew would be taking part in Flags on the 48 and I knew what my theme would be.

This morning at roughly 5:45 AM, my friend Randy Pierce, his fiancée Tracy and a group of hiking friends gathered at the trailhead of New Hampshire’s 4459-foot Mount Liberty—with a big American flag. If all goes well with the hike, “their” flag will fly for a time on the top of this challenging peak, as flags will from all the 48 peaks over 4000 feet in New Hampshire’s White Mountains, in honor of those who died on September 11, 2001 and those who serve in the armed forces. On some peaks, during some periods of time, flags from other nations may join the American flag, since people from more than sixty countries died at the World Trade Center and they all deserve to be remembered.

On September 15, 2001, a group of six hikers who knew each other from Adirondack Mountain Club message boards ascended Mount Liberty with a big flag, some PVC poles and rope and a bunch of duct tape. To quote the event web site, “In a small demonstration of their helplessness and compassion in the wake of incomprehensible violence, these six hikers ascended with heavy hearts to raise the American flag from the summit of Mount Liberty. This was their personal tribute to the thousands of men, women and children who perished in the attacks.”

And since then, hikers have been climbing some of the more beautiful and yet most treacherous mountains in the country (there are taller mountains, certainly, but the White Mountains hold their own for spectacular scenery and spectacular ways to kill yourself) with flags and rigging in their backpacks, to commemorate the dead and affirm life.

What does this have to do with writing? It’s a reminder to look at familiar stories in new ways. Much of the narrative about September 11, 2001 has been one of anger, vengeance, or hopelessness in the face of world forces we can’t affect. Courage as well, but lately we’ve been hearing more about “Burn a Koran Day” than we have about 9/11/01 demonstrating courage and hope in the face of adversity.

So today, let’s think about flags flying on the 48, about what that symbolizes. About heroes and heroines who have the courage to chance the narrative, to take a story about anger and hatred and turn it into one of hope and compassion.

And while we’re thinking about courage and hope, let me mention an important member of the team hiking Mount Liberty with my friend Randy today: his guide dog Quinn.

Randy is completely blind due to a rare neurological disorder, which also causes near-constant vertigo. He still climbs mountains. He’s turned his passion for climbing into a non-profit, 2020 Vision Quest, that aims to inspire others to “Achieve a vision beyond your sight” and in the process raise funds for several organizations that work directly with blind people. (Check out the web site. It’s a hugely inspiring story.)

Here’s the other writing and romance-novel tie-in for today: Heroes and heroines lurk where you might not expect them and bravery takes many forms. I write paranormals, so my heroes and heroines have extraordinary traits as shapeshifting or powerful magic. They’re larger than life, face down demons, save the world.

But I hope someday to create a character who has the guts and determination that my friend Randy shows today, climbing Mount Liberty blind to raise a flag and people’s dreams, or the imagination and hope demonstrated by those first six hikers in an international time of grief nine years ago.

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Teresa Noelle Roberts’ most recent book is Foxes’ Den (Duals and Donovans: The Different, Book 2), released in August by Samhain. To brighten the mood after a rather somber post, here’s a blurb:

Some guys just don’t take rejection well. Sure, Akane’s affair with an uptight sorcerer’s boy toy backfired, but two hundred years locked in a mortal body is cruel and unusual punishment for a Trickster avatar. To free her fox form, she needs sex magic with a male of her own kind. Except none exist.

Adorable Trickster-touched fox dual Taggart Ross-Donovan is the closest she’s found. Even better, he’s married to Paul Donovan, whose red magic sizzles the air around him. One night with them will generate the extraordinary power needed to set her free.

The last thing Tag and Paul expect to find under a sorcerer’s curse is a beautiful kitsune who gets under their skin without even trying.

No one goes into the ritual with more hope than Akane…or more fear. Failure will leave her forever entrapped. Worse, she’s falling for two mortals. And there’s only one thing that can kill a kitsune—unrequited love.

Warning: Contains sly fox men (with tails), foxy fox women (with multiple tails), sexy witches chasing tail, Trickster magic, cranky sorcerers, and enough gay, het and MMF sex to torch your Kindle.

Read an Excerpt

Thanks to everyone who made yesterday’s release day so perfect! And although I’ve had to cancel my trip to West Virginia for Lora Leigh’s RAW due to illness, I still have friends scheduled to take over this blog for the next few days. I might poke my head in the door occasionally, but I will be resting for the most part. Thanks again for your support and all your wonderful comments concerning Four Sworn! ~DD

Paranormal Logistics In a Semi-Normal World
by Fiona Jayde

As a writer, I love the art of world building. As a reader, I eagerly devour different worlds and customs and rules other writers create to spin their tales. I love seeing how fellow authors take common elements of vampires, werewolves, angels, witches, heaven and hell and everything in between and make it unique and sparkling. But being me, I always wonder about the logistics. Are there bathrooms in hell? Don’t people (and by people I mean angels, demons, weres of any species, witches, humans and humanoids) need to clean up after steamy love making? When weres shift, what the heck happens to their clothing and other personal items?

I’ve ran into that last problem head first when planning my paranormal series. My Bloodwolves (or Lycks) shift into fairly large wolves, and I had to make the hard decision to either somehow let them keep their clothing, or follow the rules of physics (such as they are) and make the clothes tear off. Torn clothing does leave a lot of nice possibilities for those steamy love scenes. But in reality (again—forgive the word), who wants to run around a city buck naked?

Nakedness aside, how do paranormal creatures live? Do they have money? You need at least a couple of bucks to buy a fresh bag of blood (we’re talking good vampires here—baddies will just eat and run). Do werewolves/angels/witches work? Pay rent? Buy toothpaste?

With so many excellent examples before me, I turned to the masters. Angela Knight in her Mageverse series allows her weres clothing to “meld” to their bodies– they chalk it up to magic, simple and clean and brilliant. JR Ward’s vampires have access to millions—probably because they are so old they’ve had ample time to mature their investments. Buffy the Vampire slayer got a job at a fast food joint to pay the bills. And Spike had a nice crypt—and though we never did see a bathroom, one would assume the undead don’t have need of facilities.

All these choices have significant effect on the characters and their conflicts, and overall storylines. In my case, I decided I liked torturing my characters. Which meant that they can’t just shift on a whim in plain sight because it can be embarrassing getting stuck in one’s own pant legs. With no opposable thumbs to help take those things off.

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The first installment of a kickass paranormal series, Night Haven introduced readers to the world of vampires, bloodwolves and pulse pounding action.

Coming September 21 to Samhain Publishing

Desire cuts both ways…
Nothing gives Dina more pleasure than leaving the vampires she hunts to the mercy of the dawn. And yet most humans she is sworn to protect seem all too happy to offer up their necks. She has vowed never to be like those needy creatures yet, three months ago, she allowed a vampire to kiss her. The memory still makes her body burn—and her skin heat with humiliation.

For over twenty empty years, Luke has lived in a world of dead pleasure and burning sunrise, feeding off those who long for immortality and taboo thrills. Only his art makes him feel half-alive. Until one night in a dark, moody nightclub, where a reckless, amber-eyed bloodwolf left behind her clean, sharp scent—and an ache in his blood nothing but another taste can ease.

Finally, with the chance to purge Luke out of her system, Dina moves in for the kill. But she comes to a horrifying realization. She can no longer shift, and the desire to taste him—body, soul and blood—is making her crazy. As an enraged bloodwolf threatens to rip them both apart, she may just be crazy enough to trust Luke with her life.

Warning: Contains interspecies lust between a bloodwolf and a vampire, and desire thick enough to cut with a blade.

Read an excerpt here!

Is Boundless Love Real?

by Nikki Duncan

Boundless.

More than broad, built, or buff we want our romance novel heroes to be boundless in their desire and love. We want them to value the women they’re falling for in every way. We look for believable relationships built on respect and admiration for what makes their heroine strong as well as patience and understanding for the things which make her vulnerable.

As women in real life, we want a sexy man at our side and in our bed, but we also want those unseen strengths that drive book heroes. Dedication. Willingness to admit he’s in love with one woman. Commitment. We covet them with such conviction we’ll defend out decisions to read romance novels, and expect those qualities in real life, when others disparage our choice of genre or even us. I sure know as writers we defend it.

I wonder though how many people truly believe in the kind of relationships found in books. I’m talking the depth of belief we had in Santa when we were children. A belief strong enough to have us turn from something good that could maybe make us happy to instead wait for something great. The belief that has us asking, like Steve from The Wedding Planner, “What if what’s good really is good, but there’s something greater?”

What if?

Now, I’m not saying jump ship from a relationship because of not great moments. I’m not saying anyone should expect perfection or fireworks every day, but I do wonder if more people held out for greatness and then worked to keep it if we’d have more happily married couples. More successful marriages and families. I mean, sure, there’s nothing easy about love, marriage, or family. Nothing. We’re all a little dysfunctional, which if you ask me is what gives life color and personality.

But I still wonder.

Do you think people rush in too fast and settle for something that’s just ‘good’? Do you believe in a boundless love? Have you already found it? Or are you still looking?

Heart stopping puppy chases, childhood melodrama and the aborted hangings of innocent toys are all in a day’s work for Nikki Duncan. This athletic equestrian turned reluctant homemaker turned daring author, is drawn to the siren song of a fresh storyline.

Nikki plots murder and mayhem over breakfast, scandalous exposes at lunch and the sensual turn of phrase after dinner. Nevertheless, it is the pleasurable excitement and anticipation of unraveling her character’s motivation that drives her to write long past the witching hour.

The only anxiety and apprehension haunting this author comes from pondering the mysterious outcome of her latest twist.

To learn more about Nikki, visit her at www.NikkiDuncan.com or www.SensoryOps.com.

Nikki’s book SOUNDS TO DIE BY is available now in print and digital formats here: My Bookstore & More

SCENT OF PERSUASION is available in digital format only at this point.

Cougar, Cougar Burning Bright
By Mardi Ballou

Comment today and you may receive a download of your choice from my backlist!

As a woman of a certain age, I have to wonder where the term “cougar” came from. Of course I’m not thinking of the sleek jungle predator, but rather the woman who goes for younger men. Hmm, “sleek” doesn’t sound bad. “Jungle” is not the usual setting. “Predator”? Intriguing, but not always the case.

I know it wasn’t for me when I was single. I did “date” two significantly younger men—no, not at the same time. Remove your mind from that interesting gutter, please. I’m smiling as I write this—but I must admit, fun as it was to date those guys, I didn’t have the ego ever to relax about the age issue. Kudos to those who can. Are you a soaring cougar, or does it make you nervous to be with a much younger guy?

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In “Long, Slow Ride”, a Quickie from Ellora’s Cave, 25-year old Jeff rescues 36-year old Lori from wallflower status at a wedding—and offers the ride of a lifetime. Hungry as Lori is for exactly what Jeff has to offer, she pushes him away until she almost loses him.

Gwen, the 40-year old heroine of “Soap Bloke,” a new Quickie coming from Ellora’s Cave Aug. 25, shares some of that age angst—though she’s in a solid relationship with Dirk, age 30. TV stars, they’re lovers both on and off the screen—in fact, they first got together when their characters fell in love. So when the producers write in a new love interest for the vampire character Dirk plays, Gwen is terrified she’ll lose him for real. Dirk loves Gwen, but he’s getting tired of the distrust…

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An excerpt from Soap Bloke by Mardi Ballou, coming Aug. 25

Gwen always viewed sex as a barometer for how their relationship was going. Might be a tad simplistic, but it seemed accurate. If Dirk’s gusto in getting them to the bedroom was indicative, they were in great shape. She could allow herself to relax for the moment. Relax and enjoy him.

He carefully deposited her on their luxurious king-size bed. She slipped out of her clothes, lying in the sexy undies she’d changed into when they got home—guaranteed confidence builder. She lounged on the fine Italian sheets, savoring the silky touch on her skin as Dirk treated her to his bump-and-grind strip show—the sped-up version. No matter how many times she feasted her eyes on his outrageous body—buff with just the perfect amount of hair and muscles in all the right places—she never allowed herself to take him for granted.

Off with his T-shirt, off with his jeans. He stood before her clad only in black silk briefs that did nothing to conceal the erection she’d spent too little time with on the set. She swallowed hard and her pussy creamed in joyful anticipation. This big, hard dream lover was all hers, would be deep inside her in moments. Now there would be no intrusive director, no cameras tracking their every move…

He came over to the bed. “Would my lady care to remove what remains?”

She licked her lips and let her inner coquette come out. “On one condition.”

His cock bobbed in welcome, and she had to restrain herself from taking it in hand. He was so amazingly beautiful, so very tempting. How did she manage to refrain from touching him all the time? “Condition?” His voice sounded husky. “What condition would that be?”

“That you let me take them off with my teeth.”

He roared his assent. She sat at the edge of the bed and drew him to her, bracing herself by wrapping her legs around his, her arms around his slim hips. She clamped her teeth onto the waistband of his briefs, gained purchase and began to tug. In vain. After several moments it was clear this wasn’t going to work. With a grunt, Dirk stretched out on his side on the bed so she could continue her attempts to de-pant him on a more level playing field.

She gripped her teeth on the silk and pulled down. His skin was warm and his scent made her head swim. Maybe that was why she couldn’t move the briefs.

Hmm. Why had she thought this would work? After she’d tried several different times—once biting the firm flesh of his waist—Dirk groaned and gently pulled her away. “Baby, I know you didn’t eat much dinner, but you’re killing me.”
A laugh percolated up from her middle. “I guess hint number seventy-two from Keep It Lively, Ladies is a no-go,” she sputtered.

He pulled her to him and shook his head. “You want to keep it lively, do you?” With that he peeled off her bra with his fingers while he demonstrated the fine art of de-panting with his teeth.

“Where’d you learn to do that?” Gwen shivered in his arms.

“Vampire secret,” he muttered in his best Transylvanian accent before proceeding to apply his lips and teeth somewhere much more interesting than her panties…

My husband and I visited a prep school friend of his in San Diego in late July. I fell in love with the white buildings with red tile roofs, palm trees nodding overhead, the old church towers rising on hillsides. And of course the harbor – home to every type of vessel from sailing ships to Navy carriers. I watched surfers and dolphins playing in the waves, beach volleyball games and families on the beaches. Even got to watch my husband on a surfboard—briefly. He’s such a stud-muffin.

I was sure I’d love San Diego, from photos and descriptions. But I was nervous about staying in the beach house of a couple I’d never even met. Would they be glad to have me tagging along? Would I have anything in common with our host’s wife? Would we connect?

My fears were allayed when our host greeted us at the airport, with a big California smile and hug. His wife was just as charming and friendly. She directed us to our room, complete with private bath. And there on the bed were two fluffy white robes—embroidered with our initials!

I felt as if we were at a luxury spa resort. And the feeling lasted as we chatted our way through walks on the beach, tours of local attractions and quiet evenings around the pool. We talked about our children, laughed about the guys’ high school experiences on blind dates and compared notes on how we finally met the right people to truly fall in love, and marry. Mellowed by wine and sunsets, we shared deeper feelings.

On the plane home to the Pacific Northwest, I opened my little Acer to jot down notes and impressions of San Diego. I’ll surely want to set a story there. But I got to thinking. Reading a new author is like going to stay with strangers. You spend your hard-earned money for the trip and hope it will be a grand, positive experience.

I want my stories to be as welcoming to you as that Del Mar beach house was to me. I love reading books by my favorite authors. When they are my hosts, I know I’m guaranteed a certain kind of experience. I’ll be welcomed into their characters’ inner worlds, given a tour of the sights and brought along on a sexy, romantic adventure with thrills and even a few laughs along the way.

I hope when you begin one of my stories, you’ll look forward to the same welcome. And know that as hot and dangerous as the adventure may be, you’ll wind up safe in the arms of love … and happy ever after.

Best,
Cathryn Cade

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Here’s an excerpt from my new ebook, Prince of Dragons. A shape-shifting prince travels the galaxy to find a virgin bride, but falls instead for a beautiful warrior famed for her seductiveness. He will fight beside her to protect the spaceship Orion from deadly saboteurs, but can he convince her that he is the one man for her?

… Unable to sleep, Sirena had just stepped out of the shower-dry and belted on her flame silk robe when she heard musical laughter out in the corridor. It sounded familiar.

“Holo-cam on,” she commanded. “Passageway.”

She stood stock still, rage burning inside her as she saw the image that sprang up. Two of the Aquarian princesses were just coming out of Slyde Stone’s room. One was patting her tousled hair, the other fastening her robe.

“Thank you, Commander.” One of them giggled. “That was lovely.”

“Yes,” the other added. “We hope you enjoyed it too.”

Sirena’s eyes narrowed dangerously. He was grinning like a fool, his uniform was unfastened halfway down his broad chest and his short hair was tousled, as if someone—or two someones—had been running their fingers through it.
“Thank you, ladies. My compliments on your treat. I’ll take care of cleaning everything up.”

Why, the sneaking, slithering bastard. He had lied to her so completely, so thoroughly. She had actually swallowed his tale of waiting in solitude for her.

She waited until the two had rustled away and then snapped open her hatchway.

Slyde looked over at her, still smiling a little, until he saw the look on her face.

“What is it?” he asked.
Read the rest of this entry »