Today is Tell a Fairy Tale Day! I’m here to tell you fairy tales aren’t just for children…

Fairy tales aren’t what I usually write, but years ago, I did write one for an anthology entitled Fairy Tale Lust! My story was a cross between “Beauty and the Beast” and “East of the Sun and West of the Moon.” It’s the story of a very naughty woman who was willing to do almost anything to escape an ordinary life. She’s not the nicest person and is impulsive. It gets her into trouble, of course.

To celebrate today’s fun holiday, go grab your copy of “The Obedient Wife” and enjoy! But be warned: It is an erotic tale!

The Obedient Wife

Find out what really happened between The Beauty and The Beast. Hint: It’s not your children’s fairytale!

Get your copy here!

UPDATE: The winner is…Dana Zamora!
*~*~*

It’s not often one of my blog post subjects has an obituary published in the New York Times, but such is the case with Gertrude Bustill Mossell, journalist, author, poet, teacher, suffragist, and civil rights activist.

Born on July 3, 1855, Gertrude Bustill was born into a Black Quaker and Presbyterian family in Philadelphia, PA. Her family’s activism ranged from baking for the Continental Army at Valley Forge to creating the first mutual aid society with black activists Richard Allen and James Forten to engaging in the Underground Railroad. No wonder activism filled all aspects of Gertrude’s life. Her graduation speech, “Influence,” so impressed AME Bishop Henry McNeal, he published it in his newspaper, The Christian Recorder, and encouraged her to send him her poetry and essays for publication.

She taught in the public schools of three states for seven years. While teaching she also wrote and edited for seven magazines and newspapers. In 1883, she married Dr. Nathan Francis Mossell, ending her teaching career and taking a break from journalism to have two children.

She began writing again when editor T. Thomas Fortune hired her to write for his newspaper, The New York Age. From 1885 to1889, her column, “Our Women’s Department,” focused on issues from how to care for a household to civil rights and being politically active.

After that, she was the editor of the Indianapolis World from 1891 to 1892. Her byline was Mrs. N.F. Mossell. Gertrude wrote for both black and white publications, becoming the highest paid black newspaperwoman of the late 18th century, earning $500 a year.

She not only wrote articles but encouraged African American women to write and submit their work, making her an early advocate for women journalists. Gertrude wrote The Work of the Afro-American Woman in 1894, in which she wrote essays that highlighted the accomplishments of African American women in many walks of life, included a number of her poems, and challenged African American universities for not hiring enough of their own graduates and African American teachers in general. The book includes a photo of Gertrude and her two daughters, Mary Campbell and Florence Alma to whom her dedication prays “that they may grow into a pure and noble womanhood.” Her book reminded me of Hallie Q. Brown’s 1926 Homespun Heroines which I blogged about here back in February 2024. In 1902, Gertrude published a children’s book, Little Dansie’s One Day at Sabbath School.

In Philadelphia, Gertrude and her husband founded the Frederick Douglass Hospital for which she raised $30,000 ($1,000,000 in today’s dollars). The hospital included a training school for nurses. She also organized the Philadelphia branch of the national Afro-American Council, the first national civil rights organization in the US.

Gertrude died in 1948 in Philadelphia. An historic marker stands at 1432 Lombard Street in Philadelphia where she lived.

In the HBO series, the Gilded Age black journalist Peggy Scott is confronted by her father who tells her he doesn’t know any women who make a living writing. He obviously never heard of Gertrude. Unfortunately, there are movements in the US today hell bent on making sure the accomplishments of marginalized communities remain unheard of. I share these posts as my way of joining the fight with other groups to make sure those movements fail.

To win a $10 Amazon gift card, share your thoughts in the comments.

“The Patience of Unanswered Prayer” by Michal Scott inside Cowboys

Kidnapped and destined to be another victim of Reconstruction-era violence, a feisty shop owner is rescued by a trail boss whose dark secret might save them both.

Excerpt:

Franklin crawled hidden in the tall grass toward the voice. The smells of oil and sulfur assaulted his senses. Echoes of the two explosions that ripped the night apart still played in his ears. The first body thudded against the ground. The second splashed into the creek. Moonlight glinted off the shooter’s gun and chest. Franklin’s upper lip raised over his incisors as he recognized the metal of a sheriff’s badge.

The man stalked over to the body sprawled by the creek bank.

The woman.

A Black woman.

The cur gloated and pointed his gun barrel at her unmoving form.

Franklin snarled. He leapt and went straight for the sheriff’s throat. The man’s horrified cry yielded to stuttered curses as he choked and writhed in the grip of Franklin’s jaws. The copper tang of blood fueled his indignation. The crunch of cartilage sounded lovely in Franklin’s ears. Flesh and bone yielded to canines and incisors.

The man staggered under Franklin’s weight. Lithe and lean in his wolf form, he still carried the heft of his human two hundred and fifty pounds.

The man convulsed, slumped then stilled.

Life flowed in the villain’s veins yet, but wouldn’t for long. The merciful thing to do would be to finish him off before some other predators made a meal of him.

Franklin felt nothing akin to mercy.

Buylink: https://amzn.to/3zfDpo2

UPDATE: The winner is…Diane Sallans!
*~*~*

Another day, another game! Woot! Since yesterday’s flashback post, I thought matching the covers of some of the Night Fall stories would be fun!

A little home news—we have heat! And just in time since, today, the kids didn’t go to school due to icy roads. We’ll be lazing around for the day. Or they will. I have edits to work on and canvases to gesso for a fun paint-together class with the local art guild.

Did I mention that the 11-year-old has been watching too many glam influencers on TikTok? Yeah, she used her mother’s bikini shaver to “fix” her eyebrows the other night. We had to make an emergency trip into town to find one of those draw-your-own-eyebrows wands at Walmart. The crisis was avoided since my dd is fabulous with makeup. However, we’re adding ten minutes to the morning routine so she doesn’t leave the house with butchered brows.

Kinda reminds me of when I decided to cut my own bangs. Uh-huh. I had one-inch bangs forever!

So, let’s have some fun. Solve the puzzle, then tell me if you ever had a self-made “glam disaster” when you were a kid for a chance to win a $5 Amazon gift card!

UPDATE: The winners are commenters 1 – 6!
*~*~*

Before I wrote bounty hunters, I wrote about vampires…

Contest

Answer me this for a chance to win your choice from among my many Night Fall titles!
Bounty Hunters or Vamps and Werewolves?

Truly, Madly…Deadly

Just this once…

On the trail of a serial killer, vampire Quentin Albermarle is mistaken for the killer by a police special task force. Once the smoke clears, Quentin finds himself in a delicious position—atop one of the unit’s crack officers, Darcy Henry. In need of Quentin’s access to the vampire sub-culture, the task force leadership invites Quentin to join the crime unit as a special advisor, much to the chagrin of the men in the unit, and especially, of Darcy.

Caught between opposing forces, vampire and hunter…

A no-nonsense cop with no time for romance, Darcy suddenly finds herself embroiled in a steamy love triangle between her mortal partner, Joe, and the handsome vampire. Going from abstinence to wantonness, she is unable to resist the two men’s relentless seduction or her own sensual curiosity about a vampire’s special “kiss”.

A hunger like no other…

When the real killer threatens the life of someone close to her, Darcy makes a choice that forever binds the three of them together.

Get your copies here!
Night Fall Series

“He’s coming in. Get ready.”

Joe’s voice jerked Darcy Henry to wakefulness. Berating herself for dozing off during a stakeout, she fumbled for the switch on her night vision goggles. Instantly, the landscape before her was awash in shades of luminescent green. She scanned the water’s edge. The crests of the ebbing tides rolled onto the beach, unbroken by any sign of “Bat-boy.” Had she already missed her opportunity?

“Where do you see him?” she whispered into her headset, glad the roar of the incoming surf masked their voices.

“Ten o’clock. Get cocked.”

She reached for her crossbow, drew back the linen cord with both hands, and latched it in the spring clip. Then she slid a steel-tipped arrow onto the track. Sighting down the shaft, she braced the bow in her left palm and dug her elbow into the sand. With the stock snug against her shoulder, she slid her right forefinger around the trigger and turned her sights back to the water’s edge—just in time to see a tall figure stride out of the surf.

He fit the description she’d purchased from the barman at the “blood bank” of the new vamp in town. Only, the barman hadn’t filled in all the details. Darcy stiffened against her body’s sudden surge of attraction and firmly reminded herself the vamp’s body was like any other man’s. Yeah, right.

Her gaze flickered over him, inventorying his characteristics—for my After Action Report, of course. Broad-shouldered, leanly muscled, just over six feet tall. Blond, she could tell, despite the fact his hair was plastered to his head. Handsome, too, with broad, prominent cheekbones, a longish straight nose, and lips that appeared permanently curved in a smirk.

Unable to resist the temptation, she adjusted the lenses of her goggles to zoom, and her gaze slipped lower. His package was as fine arriving as his ass had been going into the water. His long, uncircumcised cock dangled between his legs. Something else not mentioned in the barman’s description—and definitely not something that would make it into her AAR.

“Hold up!” Impatience clipped Joe’s words. “A civilian’s in your line of sight.”

Darcy lowered the bow, cursing under her breath. “Where? And how the hell did we miss that?” she whispered angrily.

“She had to have been here when we arrived,” Joe replied. “If I hadn’t seen her hand rise above the dune…”

Nothing was ever as simple as it seemed. A vampire spotted on Vero Beach just happened to meet the description of a suspected killer they’d circulated that day.

This night’s stakeout might be a bust, after all. They’d have to track him to his lair and try to take him out while he slept. Dusting a sleeping vampire never sat well with Darcy. Too unsportsmanlike. Asleep, even a probable serial killer like this one who wore an innocent face.

She burrowed deeper into the wet sand at the bottom of her shallow foxhole, prepared to wait it out. This time she wouldn’t doze, no matter how balmy the November night grew. Too many late nights and too little sleep were taking their toll on the whole team. Instead, she concentrated on how uncomfortable she was with damp sand working its way into her clothing and the smell of rotting seaweed all around her.

Having a target to observe helped. Hopefully, the vamp wouldn’t make a meal of his host and force Darcy to intervene. Hand-to-hand with a vamp was a last resort. Humans almost always lost to their superior strength, no matter how many degrees of black belt one had earned.

Joe let out a low whistle. “Damn! How’d a ghoul like that get such a fine piece of ass?”

A woman sat up near the top of a dune, her arms outstretched, revealing a slender back, rounded hips and a cascade of long, dark hair.

The vamp went down on his knees and leaned over her.

Darcy tensed, ready to spring to the woman’s rescue at the first sign of fangs.

Instead, the woman’s back arched to offer her breasts to her lover. His mouth closed over a beaded tip, and the woman’s loud groan of approval was discernible over the rumble of the incoming tide.

Joe’s soft laughter sounded in Darcy’s ear. “Better take notes, Darse. See what you’re missing?”

Darcy knew better than to answer her partner. Any response would only add fodder to the ribbing she’d receive at the Special Unit’s morning briefing. Her lack of social life was already a favorite topic. As it was, she was glad the guys weren’t wired in to her goggles.

Joe’s fed the monitor in the van parked farther down the beach.

Maybe she’d get even luckier and the vamp would move his tryst indoors.

Instead, he released the woman’s breast. With his hands braced on either side of her, the tops of his shoulders rippling as he “walked” down her body, he circled his head as he kissed a path across her belly. Then he moved lower.

Darcy squirmed. When was the last time a man had buried his face in her pussy? God, had it really been three years since Manny transferred to Miami-Dade?

The woman’s hips lifted, and her hands dug into the sand. His face reached the juncture of her thighs, and she shouted and thrashed her head from side to side.

Darcy wished she could roll to her back and give the couple their moments of privacy—and herself a reprieve from an unwanted rush of desire. Tight as a spring, the yearning wound inside her belly. She was helpless to stop the flush of heat that swept from her face to her breasts, and thankful for the darkness so no one on her team would see her blushing.

When she saw the suspected vampire rise to kneel between the woman’s legs, Darcy’s heart thudded dully in her chest and increased in tempo. His cock fell onto the woman’s belly, engorged and enormous, just before he hooked his arms beneath her knees and lifted her buttocks off the sand.

The woman reached for his cock and guided it to her pussy.

Then his hips slammed forward, hard.

The woman arched into the sand and shouted again.

No man had ever made Darcy shout, a thought that niggled her feminine pride while it aroused her curiosity—although, with his super-sized hardware, the shout might not have been one of ecstasy. The thought cheered her for the moment, until she noted the woman slamming her hips upward to meet the vamp’s thrusts.

From Darcy’s angle, she had a perfect view of the long, gliding action of his hips as he pumped into the woman’s body. Darcy’s legs widened, and she dug her knees into the sand, shifting her hips to relieve the itch between her legs.

“I’ll bet you twenty she comes before he does,” Max’s voice broke in.

“You’re on,” said Joe. “What man wouldn’t come all over a woman like that?”

“Ahem. Just a little reminder, guys,” Darcy said, hoping to cut off this particular line of conversation. “Captain will be reviewing this feed, too. Joe, you better not have on your zoom.”

Soft chuckles sounded from the guys, but they soon quieted and hunkered down to wait—and watch.

Darcy’s attention returned to the couple farther down the beach.

The woman’s legs straightened, her toes pointing toward the moon, and her long moans indicated she was fast approaching the big O. The vampire ground his hips into hers, and the woman screeched.

Joe groaned.

“You owe me twenty,” Max said.

“Damn,” Phil whispered. “Wonder if the wifey will be up for a little tickle in the morning.”

“I’m telling Bets you called her that.” Darcy’s mouth was so dry the words almost cracked.

The woman’s legs jerked up and down.

The vamp flung back his head and thrust faster. Suddenly, he stopped, his nose lifting into the breeze.

Realizing the wind had shifted, Darcy hugged the sand and held her breath.

The vamp turned his head and stared straight at her.

Darcy froze, hoping he hadn’t really seen her. But a grin stretched across his face.

“Fuck, Darcy!” Joe shouted into her headset. “You’re made. Get out.”

Darcy couldn’t risk a shot with the woman downrange. She ditched her crossbow, ripped off her goggles, and sprang from the foxhole. Running straight for the road a hundred yards in front of her, Darcy felt the world slow. Her feet mired in the sand. Her heart drummed loudly in her ears.

Then she heard bare feet pounding in the sand and knew he was gaining.

“I’ll try to get off a shot,” Joe said, his breaths coming short and fast, “but he’s moving in on you. Pick up your feet. You’re running like a damn girl.”

Anger and a spurt of adrenaline increased her pace. She leapt over a hummock of tall sawgrass and hoped it scraped his balls. The road was fifty yards away. The headlights of the approaching van swept the beach in front of her.

“He’s too close. I can’t get off a shot,” Joe said. “Hold him off. I’m coming.”

Twenty-five yards and uphill now, she strained, her boots sinking ankle-deep as she climbed a dune. She reached the top, and then her feet left the ground as a heavy weight knocked her through the air.

They rolled to the bottom of the dune in a jumble of twisting limbs. When they stopped, his long, hard body stretched over hers, anchoring her to the ground.

Darcy opened her eyes, expecting a vampire’s mask and a row of jagged teeth. Instead, the vamp’s handsome face hovered only inches from her own. She drew a deep, shuddering breath.

“Well, well, well,” he said, his voice a low, rumbling purr. “A she-cop. A dangerous species, indeed.”

“You’re English,” she blurted. Something else not in the report. Was he even a vampire? Despite the layer of clothing separating their skins, Darcy burned from his heat. She struggled against his restraint.

He stretched and hooked his ankles around hers, and his hands held hers easily to the ground above her head.

Finally defeated, she let her head fall back in the sand. “So, how’d you know I was there?” she asked, already knowing the truth, but needing to distract him. His teeth were too close for comfort.

His face lowered, and he sniffed along her neck and the collar of her shirt. “My dear, I could smell your arousal. Delicious.”

ALL THE NIGHT FALL BOOKS!

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Happy Valentine’s Day! This post is a different take on the hearts holiday that people seem to either love or detest. There isn’t much gray area toward it. I’ll begin with a question. Who is your favorite romance author? Second question: why?

Of course, there’s no right or wrong answer to those questions. So, why would I pose the question? Oddly enough, a commercial and shopping for the Super Bowl. Let me set the scene.

It had been a while since I hosted a Super Bowl party, and this felt like the year to do it. After commandeering my best gal pals, we headed to a craft store for decorations. Now, we knew this particular store (which I won’t name because I don’t have much positive to say about it) would have slim pickings, and we had prepared to let our creative juices flow once we saw what we had to work with. The instant we stepped in front of the automatic doors we were overwhelmed with the commercialism of Valentine’s Day. It wasn’t a shock because this store had begun stocking its shelves with chocolate hearts and lovey-dovey knickknacks a week before Christmas when they felt people wouldn’t purchase any more ornaments or tinsel. So much for after-Christmas sales, and heaven bless anyone who buys Valentine’s chocolates that early.

As we made our way down the aisle, I asked a friend to visit Instagram or Pinterest for decorating ideas. When she opened one of the apps, an ad immediately opened. It was a Hallmark Channel commercial for a V-day rom-com based on a best-selling novel. It sparked my friend to ask if we could remember a time before Nora Roberts, Debbie Macomber, Sandra Brown, and Nicholas Sparks. These authors are heavy hitters who are staples in the romance genre. But at one point, they had been unknowns.

The writing world has changed substantially since those writers’ beginnings. Then, agents and traditional publishing dominated, and breaking onto the writing scene was practically impossible without going that route. However, most big publishing houses did not accept unsolicited manuscripts, and many agents didn’t take on new/unknown writers. Now, some may argue this wasn’t the case, but all that is needed to give credit is a scrutiny of the increased popularity of self-publishing.

Self-publishing has been around a lot longer than most people may think. In its infancy, however, it was mostly viewed as “second-rate” or an avenue for “unworthy” books to get published. At one point, the Romance Writers of America (RWA) would not consider indie books for many of their awards. The “system” at that time prevented many good writers and good books from being published. It is no industry secret that many manuscripts sat in what was termed “slush piles” for months without being read but the authors sent a formed rejection letter as if they had been. Authors grew weary of waiting and rejection and more and more began self-publishing (which is no easy feat.) But as eBooks grew in popularity, self-publishing methods became easier—still not easy but easier.

With it being easier to publish, one may assume it’s overall easier for new authors. Not really, unless that author has a massive social media presence or is a celebrity. The reason: there are more books out there than ever. This is wonderful for readers—choice, choice, choice. But it makes it more difficult for new authors to be noticed. Well-established authors still have big publishing houses to pour lots of effort, resources, and money into marketing. Many newer and lesser-established authors are not afforded that luxury.

But what about social media? Well, back in the day (yes, dating myself), there used to be social media groups that would push out (by posting) release announcements and advertisements for free. However, most of these groups were shut down for “spamming.” Most writers recognize that as a red herring dismissal so these social media sites could charge for ads. And let me just tell you about paid ads. It was my experience with one site (and no, I again won’t name names) that my ad was sent to bot accounts. Basically, wasted money. How do I know they were bot accounts? Well, I can’t be 100% certain, but when I went to the majority of these accounts, they had no profile picture, no personalized user name, no or few posts, and no followers. I did not see an increase in generated sales. All I could see was how many times the ad was allegedly viewed—again, bots.

The point is, even paid advertisements do not guarantee a growth in exposure. That is why authors are so very appreciative when readers who do run across their pages, posts, and/or ads share them. It is why leaving a review can be so helpful to authors. It’s not only the words left but the engagement that helps. So, on this Valentine’s Day, it’s a heartfelt please to open your heart and spread the love by leaving a like, comment, post, or review for those new and upcoming romance authors. Even if their books aren’t your personal cup of tea, maybe you know someone who it is. Besides, authors love hearing from readers. It’s a way for them to learn what readers want.

This isn’t a call to abandon mainstream authors. The writing space is infinite, and there is more than enough room for everyone. It’s just that lesser-established authors often need a little more help to get themselves out there.

And that’s all I got for today. Now, it’s your turn to sound off. Let me know your thoughts below in the comment section. Your feedback allows me to know the content that you want to read. And if you like this post, consider clicking the like button and sharing.

Demon Rodeo

If Brokeback Mountain, 8 Seconds, Poltergeist, and Supernatural had an orgy, Demon Rodeo would be the lovechild.

Demon Rodeo is available now on Amazon. For video book trailers, visit my TikTok page. The full blurb is on my Instagram and Amazon.

Demon Rodeo is the first book in the Chasing the Buckle series but can be read as a standalone. It’s a friends-to-lovers romance set in the rodeo world. These are not your typical cowboys. It’s a widely diverse cast of characters and a mashup of genres that aren’t always seen together. If you’re looking for a palate cleanser, this may be a book for you.

Order
⇨ Amazon: https://readerlinks.com/l/4174852
⇨ All Stores: https://books2read.com/u/bP8RG7

*Note: All of my books can be purchased from brick-and-mortar bookstores (e.g., Barnes & Noble, Book-A-Million, etc.) as well if requested at the checkout counter.)

Locker Room Love

 Locker Room Love Series

Are you searching for a sexy book boyfriend? You’ve come to the right place.

• Out of the Penalty Box (book #1) One minute in the box or a lifetime out.
• Defending the Net (book #2) Crossing the line could cost the game.
• Ice Gladiators (book #3) When the gloves come off, the games begin.
• Penalty Kill (book #4) Let the pucker begin.
• Future Goals (book #5) The future lies between a puck and a net.

About the Author

Hi, I’m Genevive, and I am a contemporary sports romance author. My home is in South Louisiana. If you like snark and giggles with a touch of steamy Cajun and Creole on the side, I may have your poison in my stash of books. Drop by the bayou and have a look around. The pirogues are always waiting for new visitors.

Until next time, happy reading and much romance. Laissez le bon temps rouler.

If you’re not following my blog, Creole Bayou, what are you waiting for? There’s always room at the bayou.

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Love is in the air and Valentine’s Day is almost here. February is traditionally a month for lovers, a time to celebrate relationships both new and old. Flowers, candy, and dinner out are traditionally the way many couples celebrate. Others may opt for quiet time away from everyday life to and rekindle the fires of passion. There will be engagements and weddings, celebrations both simple and elaborate.

It can be a lonely time of year if you’re not in a relationship or if you’ve lost your partner through death or divorce. If you’re single—whether by choice or not—it’s a great time to celebrate yourself and all you’ve accomplished in your life. I’m not talking about having a particular job or making a specific amount of money. I’m referring to the friends you’ve made, the challenges you’ve met, the hard times you’ve gotten through. So, take yourself out for dinner, treat yourself to a decadent dessert or your favorite chocolates, maybe take yourself to a movie or concert. You’re worth it.

However you celebrate, or don’t celebrate, I hope you have a wonderful February.

And if you’re looking for a steamy romance read, you might check out my Lone Wolf Legacy werewolf series.

Lone Wolf Legacy Series

Who are the lone wolves?

Since the rise of the werewolf, there has always existed a single lone wolf—with pure white, gray, or black fur and eyes that match—who answers to no alpha, belongs to no pack. Merciless and deadly, he wanders the world, both judge and executioner of rogue wolves who senselessly kill, endangering all their kind.

When one dies, another takes its place, awakening to his purpose the first time he shifts to his wolf form. Known by the sign of the lone wolf—a sickle over the heart—the short-handled, circular blade remains as a tattoo on the man and as a mark on the wolf. A lethal combination of intelligence, brutal strength, and keen instinct, he walks a lonely path, shunned by pack, always alone.

For the first time, there are three in the world—white, gray, and black—who all bear the mark on their chests. No one knows why, least of all them…

Series Link: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CTKCDR77/

About the Author

N.J. Walters is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author who has always been a voracious reader, and now she spends her days writing novels of her own. Vampires, werewolves, dragons, assassins, time-travelers, seductive handymen, and next-door neighbors with smoldering good looks—all vie for her attention. It’s a tough life, but someone’s got to live it.

Visit her at:
Website: http://www.njwalters.com
Blog: http://www.njwalters.blogspot.com
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Sometimes, one of the most difficult things to do as an author is to categorize a story correctly. Yet, it is tremendously important. In fact, it may be the most important thing an author does aside from writing the story. Now, one may think an author should easily be able to identify the genre since he/she wrote it. On the surface, that is an accurate assumption. However, there are a few factors that complicate the issue.

Some genres have overlapping elements. Fantasy and science fiction both include world-building. Romance and love stories both involve deep emotions and relationships. Thrillers and suspenses both include scenes that increase adrenaline and keep readers on the edge of their seats.

Second, some writers have stories that intentionally blur lines. Consider a book that has a magical system as its main setting. For example, a magical school that houses mythological creatures (e.g., dragons, elves, and witches) and only a specific group of people have the ability to use this magic. In this world, there are things that exist that are not explained by any type of science, and the government is run by the Mount Olympus Greek gods and goddesses. Readers would easily classify this story as fantasy.

But what if in that same world, it is explained that some species exist because artificial intelligence and genetic engineering have altered the biology of humans and animals; Earth has become so inhabitable that people have relocated and formed colonies on Mercury; and space travel has advanced to a level that allows traveling from planet to planet to be as common as crossing the street. Additionally, it is set in the year 3056. This second part is clearly science fiction.

Now, I don’t know how something like this would be possible, but suppose this world exists. It has elements of both fantasy and science fiction. Which should the author choose? How is it measured? A reader who wants fantasy may dislike the book because it includes in their opinion too much Sci-Fi. The opposite of that can be true as well. A Sci-Fi reader may complain there’s too much fantasy. It comes down to opinion.

This is where subgenres come into play. Simple, right? Try doing an internet search for the definition of subgenre and tell me how that goes. See, subgenres tend to be one of those things that people know what it is when they see it but can’t tell you what exactly it is—sort of like the mystery meat served in the school cafeteria. A very generic (and I should say useless) definition of a subgenre is that is a smaller and more specific genre within a broader genre. (Yeah, clear as mud. Didn’t teachers always say never use the word to define its definition?) But a subgenre isn’t necessarily a niche, nor is it considered a hybrid or mashup of multiple genres. Here’s my answer. (Don’t take it as being correct, exclusive, or exhaustive. It’s an opinion.)

A subgenre is two major genres blended, and each plays a significant role in the story. If one of the genres is removed, the story would not make sense. Notice that I said “significant” and not “equal.” One of the genres has to be the primary. And yes, it makes a difference. For example, you can have a romantic comedy (romcom) where the romance is highlighted (e.g., A Merry Little Meet Cute: A Novel by Julie Murphy and Sierra Simone) or a comedy with lots of romance. But who decides which is primary? One would think the author, but are they?

Many authors have been dragged for mislabeling their books, and quite frankly, incorrectly categorizing a book can kill it. In the past, some authors have been guilty of mislabeling books for one reason or another, but I don’t think that is the standard. Authors want to put their books in the hands of the readers who want to read them. A writer wouldn’t want to market an erotica to sweet romance readers. That’s a huge powder keg waiting to explode. But what how an author conceptualizes a book may not be the same as readers.

For example, I mainly write sports romance. Readers can expect to get a huge dose of both romance and sports. In the past, I’ve received feedback that there’s not enough sports, not enough romance, too much sports, and too much romance all for the same book. It’s not really upsetting. It just proves how difficult the process is. The balance is fragile.

Here’s the bottom line. In the writing world, there are very few rules and lots of opinions. Most everything is subjective. One reason self-publishing became popular is because traditional publishers for a long time tried to shove writers into narrow boxes, and writers grew weary of either having to conform or having to wait until a new box was formed. With few definitions, writers sometimes struggle to find the most accurate labels because they do not neatly fit into any mold. But also, each reader has his/her definitions. Just look at book reviews on Amazon and/or Goodreads to see the scatter. And while looking at those numbers, really look at those numbers. Math matters. The fewer the readers the worse one negative review impacts the rating. It’s easier to pull a rating down than it is up.

And that’s all I’ve got for today. Now, it’s your turn to sound off. Let me know your thoughts below in the comment section. Your feedback allows me to know the content that you want to read. And if you like this post, consider clicking the like button and sharing.

Demon Rodeo

If Brokeback Mountain, 8 Seconds, Poltergeist, and Supernatural had an orgy, Demon Rodeo would be the lovechild.

Demon Rodeo is available now on Amazon. For video book trailers, visit my TikTok page. The full blurb is on my Instagram and Amazon.

Demon Rodeo is the first book in the Chasing the Buckle series but can be read as a standalone. It’s a friends-to-lovers romance set in the rodeo world. These are not your typical cowboys. It’s a widely diverse cast of characters and a mashup of genres that aren’t always seen together. If you’re looking for a palate cleanser, this may be a book for you.

Order:
⇨ Amazon: https://readerlinks.com/l/4174852
⇨ All Stores: https://books2read.com/u/bP8RG7
*Note: All of my books can be purchased from brick-and-mortar bookstores (e.g., Barnes & Noble, Book-A-Million, etc.) as well if requested at the checkout counter.)

Until next time, happy reading and much romance. Laissez le bon temps rouler.

If you’re not following my blog, Creole Bayou, what are you waiting for? There’s always room at the bayou.

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LOCKER ROOM LOVE

Locker Room Love Series

Are you searching for a sexy book boyfriend? You’ve come to the right place.

• Out of the Penalty Box (book #1) One minute in the box or a lifetime out.
• Defending the Net (book #2) Crossing the line could cost the game.
• Ice Gladiators (book #3) When the gloves come off, the games begin.
• Penalty Kill (book #4) Let the pucker begin.
• Future Goals (book #5) The future lies between a puck and a net.

About the Author

Hi, I’m Genevive, and I am a contemporary sports romance author. My home is in South Louisiana. If you like snark and giggles with a touch of steamy Cajun and Creole on the side, I may have your poison in my stash of books. Drop by the bayou and have a look around. The pirogues are always waiting for new visitors.