Today, I’m just sharing a peek of the story I’m working on right now. Hope you enjoy meeting “The Edge”.

Guarding Hannah

Nate “The Edge” Edgerton prefers dogs to humans, like Pierce, the retired war dog who saved his life in Afghanistan, because he prizes loyalty above all else. He trusts his team and his dog but has learned to be cautious about trusting women. After Pierce rushes to the rescue of a nature photographer being threatened by wolf poachers, Nate earns his first assignment as a Brotherhood Protector. He’ll keep her safe but keeping his heart secure will prove to be the hardest part of the job.

Hannah Mackey, a nature photographer tracking wolves, photographs poachers in the act of killing a wolf. She’s a second away from being shot herself when a large black dog rushes to her rescue, followed by a very handsome and angry man.

When Nate brings her to the Brotherhood Protectors, she’s dismayed that they’re insistent on providing her protection from retaliation by the well-organized poachers, especially when they assign Nate as her protector. She has a job to do, and she’s not going to let the threat from a criminal gang stop her from doing it.

Pre-Order your copy here!

Read the opening…

Nate “The Edge” Edgerton preferred dogs to most humans.

Treat them right, and dogs were loyal to a fault—even heroic in their efforts to please their humans. Edge’s proof was trotting right in front of him, sniffing the air and then the ground, looking for dangers that lurked in the forest—or maybe, this time, he was simply taking in the scents of the varied wildlife.

Pierce, his all-black German shepherd working dog, compliments of the U.S. Army, was proof of Edge’s belief that dogs were better creatures than most humans. Pierce had lost an eye defending his handler and had been retired just before Edge had left the service. As the dog’s active-duty handler, he’d been offered the military dog. Edge still felt it was kind of repugnant that a dog like this had to have an “owner” when Pierce was by far the most responsible member of their partnership.

Yeah, if people were dogs, Edge wouldn’t be tromping through the forest, seeking some “alone time.” Sometimes, he had to get away from the noise and get out of his head. Even when they’d been on active duty, Edge had preferred spending weekends and short periods of leave as far as he could get away from crowds. He’d rather face a bear than a rowdy crowd inside a bar. Out here, he could turn off his brain and just be.

He was grateful Alex “Ridge” Ridgley, the old man on their team, had noticed Edge’s edginess. He’d read the signs and had arranged a four-day weekend for him and Pierce to get away.

He guessed his “tell” was the way he couldn’t keep his heel from tapping through meals and briefings. Or maybe it had been his surliness. Not that he wanted to be that way with his teammates. His team was the exception to his “dogs are more loyal than humans” conviction. But his team liked to hang out. They’d drink some beers and talk trash. Smile and laugh. He’d even join in. However, there would always come a point when all that comradery wore on every last one of his nerves, and he had to have some space.

Maybe it was because he’d been raised on a ranch with a father who’d been silent and taciturn and mom who’d forever been singing—offkey—while she’d done all the things a rancher did, plus kept the house and kids fed and clean. Still, there’d been plenty of quiet time. Plenty of space to roam. And he’d always had some lop-eared hound following him around while he’d done it.

Whenever he’d been done with chores, he’d show up at the back kitchen door and just look at his mom. She’d smile, shake her head, then tell him, “Get on out of here, but you better be back in time for dinner.”

He guessed Ridge was “mom” now. A thought that made him smile.

Edge wouldn’t have minded one of his team members joining him, but they were pretty busy these days. They had the odd security assignment and were still working on finishing out the office. It was nice that they’d all landed at the same agency. He’d be forever grateful to Stone Jacobs and Hank Patterson for inviting the team to join them to staff up the Brotherhood Protectors’ West Yellowstone office.

Edge would’ve hated signing on with a new bunch of guys. He was comfortable with men from his old active-duty team with the 10^th Mountain Division. Ridge, Gabe Walker, Wade Fielding, Justice Kane, and Edge were tight. They’d even stuck together after leaving the military and had worked in the Adirondacks, forming a search and rescue team that had helped different agencies in the region, lending their support. However, they’d only been able to use a portion of their hard-earned skills. They had mountaineering skills, medic training, and of course, combat training, and Hank’s Brotherhood Protectors was a much better fit. The money was damn good, too.

Edge hadn’t returned to Wyoming after the death of his parents. He’d let the ranch go, selling it to settle debts. He’d split the proceeds with his sister, who was a nurse in Cheyenne. Neither had wanted to hold onto the homestead. Edge had felt guilty about leaving the ranch all those years ago, but his dad had wanted him to “see the world” before deciding whether he wanted the burden of the ranch he’d built from nothing. While he’d been on his first enlistment, they’d both been killed, their truck sliding off the road in a blizzard. They’d frozen to death; despite all the precautions his father had always taken. They’d been found huddled together on the bench seat, blankets covering them, their hands entwined.

Edge had figured that was the way they would have wanted to go—not the freezing to death part—but together. He’d never seen a more loving or loyal couple. He’d certainly never dated a woman who’d been so loyal she’d be willing to follow him all over the world or wait on some Army post while he was gone. He’d tried monogamy once.

He’d found a pretty blonde named Tammy, and she’d said all the right things. The first time he’d shipped out for a six-month stint in Afghanistan, she’d written to tell him that she’d found a job in Seattle, and she’d really, really miss him, but she didn’t want him to think that she’d be waiting for him when he returned.

He’d learned his lesson and hadn’t put much stock in women’s promises ever since. Sure, he dated. He liked a woman’s company now and then. He was a healthy male with a healthy sex drive, but he wasn’t interested in investing himself, his inner thoughts and emotions, in another person.

He preferred Pierce’s company. The dog only “talked” when he sensed Edge was restless or grumpy. Then he’d run for his leash and settle with it at his feet, looking up at him with his dark eyes until Edge smiled and reached down for the braided leather. Not that the dog needed a leash. He was trained to walk at his side, or as he was now, roaming ahead of him, never out of sight. Pierce lived for praise, a pat, or to chase a ball. He was easy to read. Never lied. Never wandered toward another human seeking attention.

They had an unbreakable bond, although it had almost ended violently. Pierce had accompanied the team on a patrol through a village where intel had said Taliban soldiers were gathering. Pierce had been doing his thing as they’d entered from the outskirts, avoiding the main roadway. He’d been scenting for explosives, ready to react if he detected any movement. When they’d come across a workshop at the back of one house, Pierce had alerted on a small cement mixer, sitting his tail down and waiting for Edge to check it out.

As Edge had drawn near, he’d seen a curtain in the back of the house move. Instantly, he’d slipped next to the back wall of the house and called Pierce to him, but it was already too late. The IED inside the mixer was detonated. The explosion sent shrapnel in a directed blast toward the house’s back door. Pierce was at the edge of that directed blast and took shrapnel to one eye and throughout his body. After they’d secured the house, setting C-4 to breach the front door and sweeping through the splintered back door, Edge had waited for the medevac helicopter with Pierce.

Pierce had survived but still had several metal shards inside his body, and he’d lost his right eye. He’d been medically retired, and since Edge had still had a few months left on his enlistment, he’d arranged for him to be kept until he’d mustered out and was able to claim him.

They’d been together ever since. Never apart. Pierce didn’t seem to be suffering from any PTSD either. Gunfire and loud noises didn’t faze him. He did seem a little more protective of Edge than before, which Edge found a little odd, but maybe the dog had feared for him in the moment of that blast, and that was what had stuck in his mind.

Edge was just grateful the dog had survived. They’d trained together at Lackland in San Antonio and then been assigned together to the 10^th. Their friendship was battle-tested. Solid. Unless Edge could leave his dog in sight when he stepped into a store or restaurant, he just didn’t go inside. Sure, it was a little inconvenient, but Pierce was his best buddy. He’d earned Edge’s complete loyalty; the least Edge could do was make sure Pierce was a happy dog.

Happy was taking a long hike through the forest with vegetation softening their steps, a light wind stirring the leaves on the trees around them, and the crisp scent of pine trees carried in the air. So far, the trail hadn’t been challenging. Rolling hills, vistas overlooking burbling streams and rivers. Pure heaven for them both. It was restful. Meditative, if he was into that kind of thing, which he wasn’t.

Ahead, Pierce lifted his nose. As Edge watched, a ridge of hair lifted in a line down the center of the dog’s back. He wondered what Pierce had scented that had raised his hackles so fast and so high. A bear, maybe? He used his thumb to unclip the strap on his holster and paused, listening.

Then he heard it—the long ululating howl of a wolf. No, two. Were there more?

Pierce made a whining sound and jumped on his paws, wanting to rush ahead but glancing back to see whether Edge was okay with that—which he was not. Pierce was fearless but not invulnerable. Edge still held the vision of Pierce bleeding and his head listlessly lolling as he’d rushed with the dog in his arms to the helicopter.

“Not this time, bud,” he said softly. “Let’s just sit here for a minute and let them pass. Fuss!” With a finger pointed to the spot beside him, he watched as Pierce shot toward him, did a quick circle, and planted his rear end in the dirt beside him.

The wolves sounded as though they were having a high old time, their voices rising then slowly moving farther away. Edge smiled as Pierce gave another little whine, so he reached down and scratched behind his ear. “I know you think it’s playtime, but they might eat you right up, boy.”

Just as the wolves’ calls ended, he heard something else—the sharp report from a weapon. “Motherfuckers,” he bit out.

Then he moved forward, giving Pierce another firm command to remain by his side as the two ran through the forest.

It’s Friday, and maybe you’re getting ready to download a story and meet your new Weekend Book-Boyfriend. Well, I have a suggestion for you. Russell “Animal” Hathcoat is a bounty hunter, who will fall like a ton of bricks when he meets the right woman. He’s growly, grumpy, and rough around the edges but has a tender heart. Everything you could want in a BBF.

I reduced the price for this weekend only!! You’ll save $3 if you pick up your copy now! Read the excerpt below for a peek inside the fun you’ll have!

Happy Reading!
~DD

Animal

MONTANA BOUNTY HUNTERS: Authentic Men… Real Adventures…

A rough-around-the-edges bounty hunter takes a nature photographer on a wild ride.

Former SEAL, Russell “Animal” Hathcoat, retreated to a remote mountain cabin after leaving the Navy. Haunted by horrific images that replay in his nightmares of his last mission with his SEAL brothers, he intends to renovate the dilapidated cabin as penance and therapy, and to avoid rejoining the world around him. But then, someone who understands what he needs better than he does arrives to offer him a job.

Allie Travers loves the freedom and solitude of being a nature photographer and journalist—until the day she stares through her lens at a charging black bear. With her heart in her throat, she can only stand watching in horror, knowing she’ll never escape in time. But rescue comes in the form of a wild man who risks his life to frighten away the animal.

Once the danger is past, she’s told by his team of bounty hunters that she has more to fear than any animal in the woods. A felon is on the loose, and she has to accompany them to safety. Seeing an opportunity, Allie shadows the team as they hunt their prey deep in a national forest. Much to Animal’s chagrin, more than just his protective instincts are aroused by the pretty photojournalist.

Get your copy here: Kindle | Nook | Kobo | Apple Books | Google Play

Excerpt from Animal…

Animal tuned out the crackling, thudding sounds of his team members moving through the forest.

On day three after he’d joined the hunt, he wasn’t regretting his decision to give MBH a try. He’d been unwilling to make any long-term promises. Hadn’t signed a contract or filled out a W-9. Not yet, anyway. When Fetch had described what Tibbets had done, and then talked about the hunters who were already on his trail, Animal had felt a stirring of interest. Manhunts were something he was familiar with. So, he wasn’t hunting a high-dollar target through the Hindu Kush mountains. Wasn’t dropping into some walled compound to sweep a house in the dead of night.

Still, this felt familiar. Moving through the bushes. Tracking a target. Looking for campfires, footprints, signs Tibbets had stopped to piss or shit. That morning, they’d found a butchered deer. Most of the carcass had been picked apart by scavengers. So, it hadn’t been left by a game hunter. He’d taken a portion of a haunch, had roasted it over a quickly built fire, and had eaten as much as he could before moving on.

Looked like Tibbets was feeling pretty sure he’d slipped the noose. He hadn’t even bothered to try to bury the evidence he’d been there.

The first afternoon, Animal had ridden along with Carly and Reaper. They’d shown him the warrant and pictures of Tibbets and his family. They’d canvassed businesses in Olney—gun shops, grocers, gas stations, but no one recalled seeing him or his cousin Murray.

That evening, they headed to Tibbets’s favorite haunt again. The women sat at the long polished bar, chatting up the bartender and the waitresses. Dagger and Mace played pool with two plugged-in and gossipy locals. Reaper and Animal sat at a table, watching the doors. But none of them were getting any bites.

About an hour into their surveillance, Hook and Cochise arrived.

Hook slapped a map on the table. “Found the parcel his family owns. It sits on a creek.”

“’Bout damn time,” Reaper had muttered.

The next morning, they’d geared up and surrounded a small, ratty camper trailer. Tibbets had been there recently but was now gone. After tearing through his belongings, searching for clues where he might have gone next, they bagged up dirty clothes for Mace’s dog Taco to scent on.

The moment Taco lowered his nose to the ground, following Tibbets’s trail from the camper’s metal steps, they’d realized the man had headed straight into the woods, afoot, rather than driving out.

They’d left Dagger, Lacey, and Cochise behind to watch for any movement in town, and to keep an eye out for any of his relatives who looked ready to head north with supplies to help him out. The rest of the team members grabbed their gear from their vehicles and began tracking Tibbets into Flathead National Forest.

Animal didn’t mind the rough conditions. He was accustomed to long marches and sleeping on the ground. None of the hunters, even Carly Stenberg, complained about the conditions, even after they’d endured a chilly rain the previous day. They’d dried their clothes beside a fire last night, reasonably assured they were still a day’s hike from catching up to Tibbets. Conversation had flowed around him, but he hadn’t felt the need to try to contribute.

This was a tight, well-trained crew, and they knew each other well. But they seemed to understand he wasn’t the chatty type. He rather liked the fact they let him be.

They came to the edge of the woods. A large meadow stretched before them, mountains in the background. The meadow was broken on one side by ridges of exposed rock.

“We got company,” Reaper said quietly. They all held back, remaining hidden in the brush. Reaper lifted an arm and pointed.

Animal pulled out his tactical telescope and followed Reaper’s direction, at last spotting a slender figure standing beside an outcropping. Not their mark.

A woman. She stood in front of a tripod and peered into a camera. She had wheat-colored hair drawn back into a messy braid. She wore a red plaid shirt and a khaki vest over blue jeans and boots.

Suddenly, she jerked back her head, giving him a glimpse of her profile. Her eyebrows were lowered, her mouth dropping as she stared down the hill.

He turned his telescope toward whatever had caught her attention and immediately understood her concern.

A baby black bear ambled into the clearing, heading upward toward her location.

“Where’s mama?” he whispered.

As though answering his question, a loud bellow sounded from the forest farther down the tree line. A large bear ran out, huffing and bellowing, heading toward the woman.

He didn’t have even a millisecond to think through a better plan. Animal dumped his pack and ran into the clearing, tearing at his shirt. When he’d ripped off the buttons down the front, he flapped the edges, trying to make himself look bigger. “Ha! Ha!” he yelled as loud as he could to draw the bear’s attention away from the woman.

Mama bear bounced on her front paws and spun toward him.

“Don’t shoot unless you have to!” Animal tossed over his shoulder to Reaper.

“Don’t get in my line of fire!” Reaper shouted back.

“Don’t shoot her!” the woman screamed.

“You shut up!” Animal yelled, still running, still flapping. Didn’t she realize he was trying to draw the bear’s attention away from her?

The bear’s head moved from Animal, to Reaper behind him, and again to the woman, likely trying to decide who was the biggest danger to her cub.

Animal roared and flapped and moved a little closer.

The baby bear squalled and changed direction, running for his mama.

Just when Animal feared the bear would charge, she spun and ran into the woods, her cub running right behind her.

Animal halted, breathing hard. He gave another flap of his shirt. “Ha! Ha!” he shouted, hoping she’d been startled bad enough not to turn around.

Then he heard a whirring sound, coming from up the rise. He turned his head toward the woman. The sound came from her camera. Animal gave her a fierce glare then began to stalk up the rise.

When he reached her, she straightened and flashed him a wide smile. “Thanks for that. Thought for a second there I was going to be lunch.”

“What the hell!” he bellowed, anger shot through him. Didn’t she have a clue how close to being “lunch” he’d been, trying to rescue her? And all she’d thought about was taking her damn pictures?

Her eyebrows shot upward, and she stood still.

Behind him, he heard more of his team stomping up the hill. He should have turned and walked away. Should have let Reaper handle getting her packed up and off the mountain. Away from him.

Instead, anger vibrated through him. He glanced at the gear strewn around her feet. “Who the hell comes out to the wilderness without a goddamn gun?”

“The only shots I plan to take are with my camera,” she said icily, lifting her chin.

He ground his teeth as his face heated.

“Wish I’d been shooting video though,” she said. “The footage would’ve gone viral. Do you chase bears often?”

Gabriel is available now! Book #7 of my Montana Bounty Hunters: Dead Horse, MT is here! At least, it’s out on Amazon in both print and ebook. In a couple of months, I’ll take it wide, meaning: I’ll publish it in all the usual places. For now, if you have Kindle Unlimited, it’s FREE.

I’m seven books into this series, and I’m still having a blast writing about bounty hunters, but, as I’ve said before, the secret has been making sure I have unique characters every time who face unique adventures/challenges. No cookie cutters. When you read a story in the series, you see the previous heroes and heroines, and I love giving them their unique voices to make them distinct. I have two more books planned already. Check out the covers for Mica and Jackson!

This story is about two former military members of the Montana Bounty Hunters, who have an initial attraction that suffers a setback, but who learn through their experiences that they have more in common than either could’ve expected.

I hope you pick up a copy. And if you have time after you’ve read it, I’d appreciate it if you’d leave a review. Reviews aren’t for me, they’re for other readers who need to know about your experience with the story. I can say it’s sexy, fun, and exciting, but readers believe other readers.

Happy Reading!
~DD

Gabriel

MONTANA BOUNTY HUNTERS: DEAD HORSE, MT

Authentic Men… Real Adventures…

An ex-Special Forces bounty hunter has to find a way to repair his friendship with the agency’s prickly tech guru while not falling in love with her…

Gabriel Pelletier can’t read women. Hell, he didn’t know his ex-wife had been seeing another man until she cleaned out the apartment while he was deployed. Somehow, he’s managed to offend the Montana Bounty Hunters’ tech guru, and everyone around him is telling him to fix it!

Ex-Army Fredericka “Fig” Newton has always navigated working with men by repelling them before she attracts unwanted attention. She temporarily lost her mind trying to befriend Gabriel when he joined the agency. Sure, he’s cute, and while everyone around her has found their happy-ever-after, she thought, just maybe, she could find hers with him. But nope. All her friendly overtures blew up in her face. So, it’s back to prickly Fig. Besides, they have a bad guy to take down and no time for romance.

Order your copy here!
Also available in print!
FREE in KU for a limited time!

I have a new release! It’s sexy, features an ex-Army vampire, and it’s set in post-apocalyptical Texas! What more could you want? Oh right, did I tell you it’s sexy? And not terribly long if you’re looking for a quick afternoon read. Did I mention it’s FREE in KU Unlimited?

I hope you’ll give the story a read, and if you have time, review it. Readers trust other readers…

No Tender Mercy

Read an excerpt | Order your copy here!

Open Contests

1. We’re Dead Horse! (Contest) — Win an Amazon gift card!
2. Happy Saint Patrick’s Day! (Contests–Multiple Prizes!) — Win an Amazon gift card!
3. I love Saturday! Plus, a Puzzle-Contest and More Open Contests! — Win an Amazon gift card!

So, St. Patrick’s Day was yesterday, but why not continue celebrating. And who doesn’t love a holiday that gives us a great excuse to get together with family and friends, attend the local parade, wear lots of green clothes, and drink beer. Oh, and dye rivers green!! However, there is a lot about this holiday which people don’t know. Stick around and read about five St. Patrick’s Day facts you might’ve not been aware of!

1. This holiday falls on March 17th each year because that is the traditional death date of Saint Patrick, the patron saint of Ireland. Did you know that Saint Patrick wasn’t even Irish? He was actually born in Wales. He was held as a prisoner by Irish raiders shortly after he turned sixteen years old, and this is when he found his faith.
2. Green was not always the color associated with St. Patrick’s Day. For thousands of years, light blue was the color people used to celebrate this holiday!
3. The first St. Patrick’s Day parade was held right here, in the United States. The parade tradition originated in Boston, Massachusetts, in 1737. New York followed shortly behind them, launching their first parade in 1762.
4. From 1927 to 1961, St. Patrick’s Day was a dry holiday. The Irish government banned alcohol to enforce the religious aspects of the holiday. Pubs around the country were forced to close for this day. Nowadays, approximately 11 million pints of Guinness are consumed on this holiday.
5. Chicago dyes their river green for the spirit of St. Patrick’s Day. The dye they use is plant-based, allowing it to return to its normal color in approximately thirty hours.

Hopefully, you learned a few fun facts, and March 17th will have more reasons to celebrate in the future! Now I wish I could say I wrote a romance book about St. Patrick’s Day, but the closest I can come is my Navy SEALs of Little Creek series, where two of the heroines work at a local pub. Below you can find an excerpt from Issued (complete with a GREEN cover).

Issued

Excerpt from Issued…

I’m sorry. 

Two words that should be simple enough to say. But putting my business on display for the public isn’t my thing. Though, after Brittney’s scene two nights ago, people who don’t even know a thing about me now know I’m broken. Leave it to my ex’s sister to tell the world I’m the emotional equivalent of Humpty Dumpty after his fall from grace. All of my pieces are glued back with such haphazard carelessness that I can’t remember what it feels like to be whole. Or what it feels like to go through life without falling apart, without being forced to admit my own weakness.

I drag my hands over my face, my heart in my throat, as I do my best impression of a kicked puppy in the middle of Shaken & Stirred. Taya catches sight of me, slams down her tray, and turns on her heel to stalk off in the opposite direction. My body trembles, and I dig my nails into my scalp, wishing for the hundredth time that my stubborn wife had acknowledged me when I’d tapped on her door last night. Or the night before. This whole thing could have been handled in private. Although, shit, guess that cat had gotten out of the bag two days ago. Until then, Bear had been the only one who knew about my TBI, but now everyone knows. Everyone who was within earshot of our table.

But the way Taya leapt to her feet to defend me. She’d been all fiery eyes and blazing cheeks, a hellcat ready to attack on my behalf. Hope bubbles in my chest for a second before I viciously squash the feeling. Taya deserves someone normal, someone who can stand up to the light of her scrutiny without cutting her on all his ragged, imperfect edges. She deserves someone better than me.

But right now, we need to put on a performance for my superiors and any of the committee attending the function later tonight. My jaw aches and I’m grinding my teeth together as I flag down the hostess. “Can you get her? It’s important. Please?”

She turns, flinging her hand at me in a dismissive wave. “Sure.”

Inara heads into the back. Despite her snarky claim that she cares more about cucumbers than what I think is important, a minute later, Taya makes her way toward me. I force a smile, but the muscles in my face tighten and twitch. Taya stops in front of me, her forehead a collection of unhappy little wrinkles. With one hip cocked and her arms folded beneath the small swell of her teacup breasts, she’s the personification of feisty disapproval in a server’s apron and non-slick shoes.

“What do you want?”

“There’s a mandatory work party and I need you to come with me.” Not the best start, but I’m fully prepared to apologize and grovel for a date rather than show up in front of my commanding officer without Taya on my arm. This is my shot to prove that I’m committed to the IPP program.

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

I want to turn around and leave, but I’m already down to the wire. Maybe I’ll just toss her over my shoulder and make a run for it. Taking a deep breath, I try again. “I know you’re mad, but I need your help. We don’t even have to talk or stand next to one another. We’re basically carpooling to an open bar. This is important. If my C.O. doesn’t think I’m trying to make the IPP program work, I’m screwed.”

Her body slumps, but her eyes remain locked with mine. “When?”

“Tonight.”

“Are you serious?” Her voice is high pitched and more than a little accusatory. “You literally waited until the last second?”

“Not exactly.” I glance at the time on my phone. “We actually have about three hours.”

Buy links:
https://www.amazon.com/Issued-Navy-Seals-Little-Creek-ebook/dp/B085Q51PLS
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/issued-paris-wynters/1136625248
https://books.apple.com/us/book/issued/id1502152322
https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Issued?id=SobVDwAAQBAJ&hl=en_US&gl=US

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.

I should know. I wrote it. And yes, this is my unabashed reminder that you NEED to read this story. It’s a celebration of our military heroes—both on the battlefield and here at home. So, if you’re looking for something to read this weekend, or to re-read, here’s my suggestion. Just click on the picture below and go get your copy. You’ll laugh, get hot, and cry. And forever after, if you think of just two words, you’ll remember the journey and the final scene… Hey, Zig… 

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