The Thrill of the Chase

I am finally finished.

For the past, I don't know, AGE, I've been working on the sequel to Beg For It. My first book with Ellora's Cave introduced an amazing cast of characters that I couldn't leave alone. Writing the second book in the series entitled Ask For It, has been like visiting with old friends. I love the pace of working on something new, the frenetic energy of matching words to emotion. It's addictive, like a legal high. It's the thrill of the chase that excites me I suppose, always striving to make each draft better until the characters are as real to me as any of you are.

Now it's over.

Oh, I will still have edits to do, multiple revisions that will leave me exhausted and feeling like I never want to see this book again. That's just part of the publishing process and in the end I'm always happy to see my babies shined up and pretty.

But it will never be the same as when I'm writing it. Nothing can recapture the feeling of bringing life to characters that were just fuzzy images in the back of my mind. The only thing that cures the melancholy is starting something new.

So in the words of Jay Z - "on to the next one".

Guess who's up next?


ssshhhh, it's Anya :)


Minx

Johnny Loves Krissy Release Party

Some of you may remember Johnny Loves Krissy.
This story was originally contracted with Triskelion Publishing. After spending about a week on their website for sale, the company went into bankruptcy and Johnny Loves Krissy went onto my "never to be published" shelf.

Only JLK wouldn't stay on the shelf. this story has a deeper meaning for me. I wrote the story for my sister and wanted to see it available again. So after a complete rewrite, with heavy revision, the story is once again available in both print and e-book.

This also represents the last of my stories that were once wrapped up in the bankruptcy hell of Triskelion Publishing. The others have all found homes. Delicious Darkness is at the Wild Rose Press. And The Cougar and the Best Man became Impulsive Pleasures and is also with Ellora's Cave.

So about Johnny Loves Krissy... (adult excerpt)

Johnny Loves Krissy
Copyright KyAnn Waters
All Rights Reserved, The Wild Rose Press
Erotic Contemporary
The Wilder Roses
e-book novel $6.00
rated double rose

To Purchase http://www.thewildrosepress.com/wilderroses/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=182&products_id=770


Blurb:
Kristina Taylor's biological clock just went off. She has endometriosis. Now “who's your baby's daddy” just took on a completely new meaning. A brilliant plan for conception includes her hot best friend Johnny

Knock her up? Krissy has to be crazy. Or is she? Johnny has loved her since high school. Her plan might not include life after baby. His does. But how is he going to show her how good they can be together with all her rules--no kissing, no touching, no caressing. He can make love to her, but she's determined not to enjoy it. To hell with that and to hell with her rules. He's determined to show her friendship is the best foundation for a relationship.

But there are always complications. ..

With Johnny, Krissy is afraid to look to the future. Right now, she can't get enough of the present, and she dreads the thought of losing what she's had with him in the past. Huston. Taking him to bed won't be a hardship--if she can only get him to play by her rules. After all, she wants to maintain their friendship. Not easy if he ends up being the best sex of her life.


Excerpt:

"Our baby," she whispered with awe and wonder discernable in her voice. "Is this really happening?"

Her eyes filled with tears. Johnny set the frying pan on the stove and pulled her out of the kitchen chair and into his arms. "Scary when it finally becomes real, isn't it?" He stroked her back. He felt her head nod against his chest. Then she went rigid and pushed against him. "What?"

"We have bigger problems." She took two retreating steps. "The when, where and how."

"Pardon me?"

"I don't want some magical date etched into my mind reminding me of the day we conceived our baby. Where are we actually going to have sex? Not my bed. I'm not going to remember us every time I crawl beneath the covers. Not your bed either. I don't want you thinking about me when you go to sleep."

Good thing she wasn't in his head. He'd already taken her to his bed hundreds of times. In his dreams. "The where won't matter. You and I both know we'll never forget."

"As for the when, I'm ready when you are." Krissy put her hands on her hips. "Actually, I should rephrase that. I'll be ready after you make breakfast and we eat. If we can decide where, then we can do it tonight. We just need to think of sex as the first step in a series of steps to reach the desired conclusion of having a baby."

As if he could just forget he'd be making love while Krissy only thought of their being together as a means to an end. "At least we don't need to discuss the how."

"Actually, I think we do."

Johnny nearly crushed the egg he was holding in his hand instead of cracking it into the frying pan. He looked over his shoulder and cocked an eyebrow. Krissy sat at the table again with a serious look on her face, not a trace of humor in the straight line of her mouth. "I'm capable."

She rolled her eyes. "We both know what happens in relationships when one falls hard and not the other. That can't happen to us. So we need rules about the how." She held up one finger. "No kissing. That includes oral. I'm not sucking your dick."

"What if I need help getting an erection? You won't be my fluff girl?"

She pursed her lips. "I'll get you a Viagra."

Her mouth turned up on the left and he weakened. "Okay, let me hear the rest of your rules."

"No caressing. I know you're an ass man. Mine is off limits. No touching outside of what is absolutely necessary. No grabbing hair."

"Are your tits off limits, too?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Yes."

Laughter rolled from deep within his chest. Unbelievable. His dreams had come true and then morphed into his worst nightmare. He could make love to Krissy, but by god, he wasn't allowed to enjoy it.

"If you make me come, I'll clobber you the minute you get off of me. I don't want you to be good."

Did she read minds now? "I can't control whether it's good or not."

"Yes, you can! Just get on, come, and get off. Hopefully, we'll only have to fuck once."

"Do I get to enjoy myself at all or is that against the rules as well?" Johnny flipped the eggs in the pan, then snatched the bread off the top of the refrigerator. He needed to calm down. Krissy's unrealistic ideal situation was a long way from his.

"Of course." She stood and poured them coffee. "You have to enjoy sex in order to reach orgasm. How else am I going to get pregnant? Coming is ejaculation. I don't suppose you're a premature ejaculator. The faster the better."

Erotic Romance Author
www.KyAnnWaters. com

Anyone who leaves a comment will be entered into a drawing for a digital copy of any of my back list titles available through the Wild Rose Press. Delicious Darkness, Hot Blooded, Executive Positions, Tie Me Up Tie Me Down, The Cougar Meets Her Master, and there you can also grab my free read Twisted Sex and Happenstance. Be sure to leave a way to contact you should your name be drawn as the winner.

Wicked Wednesday: Self Esteem Issues

As I am working diligently on my next novella I find myself completely immersed in my heroine. Casey is different than anyone else I've ever written. She's beautiful but unaware of it, smart but doesn't feel like it and completely down on herself.

In short, she's awesome but doesn't KNOW she is.

Most of my heroines have been pretty kick ass. Confident, self-assured and ready to rock whatever comes their way. I usually feel that way myself so it makes total sense that this comes out in my writing. So why the sudden urge to write about a woman who has no idea who she is or where she's going?

I think every one of us, no matter how confident we may be, has moments of self doubt. Moments where you wonder if you're making the right decisions in life or whether you can really manage all the things you've taken on. We all doubt our awesomeness at some point. And I think it's important to acknowledge that we all feel this way sometimes and that it's completely O-K.

So - here's to all my sisters who may not know yet just how great they are. This one's for you.

Minx

Excerpt from ASK FOR IT


* * * * *
Casey stared at herself in the mirror and tried to find words. All she could come up with was “Wow.”

She stood in the middle of a dressing room at Neiman Marcus, clothes strewn around the large space helter-skelter as if they’d been caught in a hurricane. She supposed in a way they had. Hurricane Anya. The woman was easily a category five when it came to her powers of persuasion.

“You look amazing.” Anya clapped her hands and started taking bows. She blew imaginary kisses to herself in the full length mirror. “Yes, I know I’m brilliant. She’s my greatest creation.”

“I can’t believe that’s me.” Casey blinked rapidly against a sudden rush of grateful tears. She wore a long sweep of material, a soft pool of silk that swirled around her body like a cloud. It slid against her skin in a seductive caress, tickling her like a lover. She pivoted and looked at the plunging back drape. It dipped low enough to entice but still covered enough that she didn’t feel self conscious. It was more beautiful than anything she could have imagined or wished for.

“I don’t look so pale anymore.” The deep amethyst color made her skin glow like alabaster. She gave a little twirl and watched the skirt flare out showing a hint of leg. This was a dress for someone glamorous, someone daring. She’d never worn anything like it before.

“You look radiant. Like a moon goddess.” Anya moved around her, her blue eyes taking everything in. “But you’re still missing something. I’m not sure what.”

Casey bit her lip and looked at her reflection again. Who was she trying to fool? She didn’t have the guts to wear something this slinky and wouldn’t know what to do even if she did. She wasn’t good at being the center of attention. She never knew what to say or do or how to act.

Curling up in her favorite armchair with a cup of hot tea and a book was more her style. She might occasionally dream about being the belle of the ball but that was fantasy. She knew better than most that fairy tales didn’t come true.

Excerpts…What Works? **LIBERATING LACEY Giveaway!**

Today our guest is author Anne Calhoun. She's talking excerpts today AND giving away a print copy of her book, LIBERATING LACEY. This contest is open through Sunday, so make sure you answer her question to get your name in the drawing. Now, I'll turn the "pen" over to Anne.

* * *

Excerpts…What Works?

by Anne Calhoun

As an e-book published author I’m always curious what prompts readers to buy a book available on an e-publisher’s website. To help make a decision there’s the cover, the blurb on the book’s buy page, and usually an excerpt of anywhere from 50-1500 words, depending on the book’s length. My publisher, Ellora’s Cave, prefers an excerpt to be within the first few pages of the book. With Amazon you can search a book’s contents for particular words, or random pages. So, for example, if you’d prefer your book to have sex scenes with handcuffs, you could search for “handcuffs” and get a taste of what the book has to offer (try it with the print version of LIBERATING LACEY). But with the publishers’ sites – Samhaim, Ellora’s Cave, what-have-you – you can’t search. All you get is the chosen couple thousand words.

As a reader, this is tough for me. While writers must ensure the first few pages are snappy, interesting, sexy, and guaranteed to grab the reader, I personally don’t browse books that way. I open the book to a random section. If the writing grabs me in the middle of the book, when the author should be clipping along, pulling out U-turns and surprises and conflict-upping moments with every chapter, then I go back and have a look at the beginning. I also know, as a writer, that sections in the middle of the book are my favorites. Don’t get me wrong – I love the beginning of LIBERATING LACEY, where Hunter and Lacey get down to brass tacks after a not-so-casual conversation in a bar. It sets up their characters perfectly. Newly divorced Lacey knows what she wants – a hookup – and goes about getting it. Hunter’s not intimidated by a strong, purposeful, classy woman. By the end of the first chapter they’ve had sex, and they both want more, not because the sex was smokin’ (it was, of course) but because of the dialogue and their personalities.

But that’s not my favorite scene. If I could have chosen any random 1500 words to tempt the reader into buying LIBERATING LACEY, I would have chosen the excerpt available on the Liberating Lacey page on my blog. Or the excerpt I’ve included below, which sets up one of the more emotional scenes in the book. I think these scenes draw me because they’re so heavy on the emotional ramifications of an ever-deepening plot (in this case, the consequences of casual sex). That’s why I read and write romance, for the emotions, which are harder to set up in the first three to five pages. Goals, yes. Emotions…not as easy to do, which is why I skim in the middle.

Here’s the excerpt, not available anywhere else, unless you buy the book!

---------

It wasn’t just her lips. Her entire body both welcomed and maddened him, the soft give to her breasts and stomach, the way her thighs cradled him, the brush of the baby-soft skin of her inner arm against his back. He’d always enjoyed the slow, sexy build of foreplay, loved women’s bodies and all the mysterious, amazing things they could do, but with Lacey, he couldn’t detach. Kissing meant he had to touch. Touching meant he wanted to crush her under him. Getting her under him meant he had to be inside her, and when he got there the only thing that kept him from losing it and going all caveman on her was the knowledge that he’d scare her to death if he did.

Right now his prehistoric ancestors were beating drums just under the surface of his rational brain. He lifted her skirt, the fabric sodden in his fist, and pulled down her panties. She must be making up for lost time or something, because she never said no. Asleep, tired, irritable after a bad day, whether he asked for a quickie or a marathon session that lasted four hours she never said no, and she wasn’t now, either. He stuffed the wet scrap of fabric in the pocket of his cargo shorts and fumbled with his zipper.

The shorts were low on his hips, his throbbing cock getting pelted by the rain before he looked up to meet Lacey’s anticipatory eyes. She’d asked if this heat was normal for him. It wasn’t. If he got caught having sex in a public place by someone with a grudge or a holier-than-thou attitude, he’d get fired so fast he’d get rug burn on his ass from the carpet outside the chief’s office. First the parking lot, now the park. Even her driveway was considered public, with an expectation of being seen. Around Lacey his sense of self-preservation took a scarily long hike.

Today it looked like his career was safe because shitshitshit, “I don’t have a condom,” he said, knowing she didn’t either. She’d left her purse at home.

She peered up at him through her lashes. Lacey never left the house without mascara because her short, reddish eyelashes disappeared without it. The rain had smudged the makeup around her eyes, a shockingly slutty look for her that, combined with her swollen lips and sexy gaze, did nothing to convince his cock to stand down. “You have your wallet,” she said.

He did have his wallet because he didn’t care if she was as rich as the queen, if she was out with him, he’d pay for the mocha and lunch. But while he had money, he didn’t have protection. “The cupboard’s bare, beautiful. I meant to buy more yesterday but didn’t get to…”

He couldn’t finish the sentence because she’d reached between them to stroke his shaft. Cold water streamed down her forearm, over his balls, making them tighten but he was so hot steam should have been rising from his body. Just to torture himself he cupped one breast through her shirt and thumbed the hard, thrusting nipple, kissing her while he did. She could get him off here. It wouldn’t take long. Then he’d take her home, dry her off and love her up until he was ready for round two.

“Hunter.”

She might have said his name twice because her voice was raised, urgent. He forced his eyes to focus, saw both intensity and hesitation in her face.

“I’m on the Pill.”

He knew that, had seen the container with its twenty-eight tiny pills in her bathroom.

“I’m safe,” she said and stroked her thumb over the tip.

Sure she was. Shit, she’d been with one man before him. She was the one who should be worried. He didn’t keep score but even the approximate number was a fucking scandal.

She stroked him again, tip to base, before he uncurled her fingers from around his cock. “I can’t think when you do that, beautiful, and I’d better be coherent for this conversation.”

Obligingly she laid her hand flat on his stomach and looked up at him, complete trust and wicked temptation in her brown eyes. “I’m on the Pill. I’m clean,” she said. As if he hadn’t heard her.

“Fuck,” he whispered. He’d resisted temptation before because kids should be wanted and mistakes happened. Because women lied about all kinds of things, birth control not the least of them. But fuck, oh fuck, now that the option was out in the open he wanted to be bare inside Lacey. His whole body ached with wanting.

And Lacey was honesty personified.

---------

GIVEAWAY TIME!

What do you like in an excerpt that prompts you to buy the book, or does the excerpt not factor in at all? Do you only buy certain kinds of ebooks – BDSM themes, or shapeshifters, or ménage, or reunion stories, and the excerpt makes no difference? Is it about voice, or a suspenseful setup, a character who grabs you from page one and doesn’t let go?

Let me know by leaving a comment and I’ll choose one winner of a paper copy of LIBERATING LACEY! And stop by my website or blog to check out my upcoming Spice Briefs releases and other news. Many thanks to those Naughty Girls Next Door for allowing me to guest blog!

**Note** The contest ENDS Sunday, March 28th.

Dark Man and Sexy Vampires

Today the third installment of my Blood Slaves series, Dark Man, released from Ellora’s Cave. Before I tempt you with an excerpt or two, I’d thought I’d share some of my other sexy vampires and vampire lore.

The Blood Slaves isn’t my first foray into the erotic decadence of nightwalkers and bloodsuckers. In Hot Blooded, Kelis is a vampire living in LA. And the woman in the story, Loni Soleil is offspring from a man from another star system. And in After Dark, Ellora’s Cavemen Jewels of the Nile Vol II, Alandro Blackwood is a Native American vampire searching for his bloodmatch, the only woman with whom he can breed. In After Dark, I explained away the myths of vampires. Garlic was only offensive because the vampire’s acute sense of smell intensified the odor. Alandro had a reflection but didn’t like looking at himself. Within the comments section of this post, I’ll share an excerpt from After Dark and Hot Blooded.

However, in Blood Slaves, the vampire world is unlike anything I’ve written before. Seven master vampires control the entire vampire world. Only the seven can turn a human, only the seven are warm blooded and only the seven have a heartbeat. In the first three installments, the history of the vampires is only brushed upon. This was intentional. Each story reveals a little more of their world. There is a rift occurring between the seven and the rest of the vampire world and the vampire world and humanity. In future works, you’ll learn more about the disease that nearly destroyed all vampires, how Theron and the other seven survived and how the disease will once again threaten the vampire’s very existence.

But for now, let’s move on to the good stuff. Theron is my favorite character to date. He's stubborn and yet vulnerable. He's responsible for his Sect of vampires and refuses to let others close. He feeds and F*cks in the Catacombs. There are times when he isn't likeable, but you can't help but still feel for him because you know his iron-fisted control comes from a need to protect his world and the vampires. To see him in his own story is both thrilling and scary as hell, because I hope readers love him as much as I do.


This book is graphic and intense. I'm going to post the excerpts in the comments section.



Book 3 in the Blood Slaves series.

Vance is determined to discover the secrets hidden in The Catacombs, an exclusive all-male fetish club. Someone there was the last person to see his ex-lover alive and he intends to seek revenge for the brutal murder. Once in, he meets Tac, the owner of the club. He's secretive and hot as hell. The BDSM sex is unlike anything Vance has experienced. Tac is becoming an obsession and keeping him from the truth.

Nothing can endanger the vampires' existence. Theron, known in the club as Tac, will destroy any who try. He is dominant and dangerous--in total control of his world. He lives only for sex and blood. He has never been emotionally involved with anyone. Now, a human has slipped into his life and under his skin, making him want more than meaningless sex with blood slaves. But Theron will never allow a mere mortal to bring him to his knees.

Note: This book contains scenes of smoking-hot men engaged in multiple-partner sex and bondage.


Click To Purchase Dark Man

Guest Blog: Gail Roarke, with an excerpt from One Knight Stand

Michelle and the other Naughty Girls Next Door were kind enough to invite me to guest blog here today. Thanks, girls! I'm a long-time fan of pulp fiction and comics. I like larger-than-life heroes and heroines, so when I started writing erotica and romance, much of it involved superheroic characters. One recurring character is Victor Kruger, the Black Knight. He's co-starred in two other stories as the heroine's playmate, but One Knight Stand is my first story from Victor's point of view.

Excerpt: One Knight Stand

Broadway Street in Denver looked like a battlefield. Red and blue lights strobed across the scene, reflected on smashed windows and the wet streets. The last ambulance pulled away with a brief whoop of its siren to clear a path. Cops stood guard over empty suits of powered armor as their former occupants were loaded into police vehicles. Firefighters in heavy turnout coats coiled their hoses, the fires extinguished at last. Bystanders crowded the police barricades, gawking as always, talking and taking pictures with their phones.

Victor caught a glimpse of himself in a storefront window. He looked a mess. His chain mail shirt was slashed, torn, partially melted in places, and full of bullet holes. It was also covered in blood—his blood. He healed almost faster than he was injured so he felt fine, but he looked like an extra for a zombie film. His face and hands were clean, though. The energy that filled him, the same energy that regenerated any injury, no matter how severe, also burned away any blood on his skin. But his clothing wasn’t so lucky.

“Probably why I never get the post-battle interviews,” he grumbled.

Okay, yeah, he was a newbie hero. And he wasn’t affiliated with the Guardians, who invariably got the lion’s share of the credit any time they showed up. He could see the media clustered around the Guardians, including Iron Maiden, and hanging on their every word. But still, he was doing good work, and while he wasn’t doing it for the acclaim, a little acclaim now and then would have been nice.

A soft female voice interrupted Victor’s thoughts. “Mr. Kruger?”

He turned to see a reporter, judging by the press pass in her packet pocket and the photographer at her side, approach him. She was more than a foot shorter than Victor, but at six foot five, he was used to looking down at most people. Slender, with delicate features, fine platinum blonde hair and blue eyes, she was dressed for success in a dark skirt and blazer over a white blouse.

“That’s me,” he said.

“Robin Harris, Denver Weekly News. I’d like to interview you, if you don’t mind.”

“A little late to the party, aren’t you?”

She looked chagrined and glanced over at the media circus surrounding the Guardians. Reporters and cameramen from all the local television stations crowded around, clamoring for attention.

Then she turned back to Victor and shrugged with an adorable grin. “Just a little. It’s been that kind of day. No room at the table for the new gal from a small weekly. I imagine you can relate to that.”

He snorted. “You got that right, sister.”

“So…the interview?”

“Sure. Shoot.” He was pleased that she wanted to interview him, and more than happy to spend time with her. She was quite attractive.

“Great,” she said.

It took only a minute or two for her to coordinate with her photographer. He took a series of photos of Victor, and of Victor with Robin. As he worked, Robin pulled out a small digital recorder and held it up between them.

“We’re outside the headquarters of Ingolf & Devore with the city’s newest protector, the Black Knight—”

Victor grinned at the reporter. “Call me Victor.”

She smiled back. “Victor, then. Tell me, Victor, how did you happen to be here at just the right time to stop the Marauders?”

“Just lucky, I guess. I was in the neighborhood when I saw the Guardians arrive. You don’t usually see all the Guardians in one place unless it’s big trouble, so I figured they could probably use my help. I followed them here—and the rest is history.”

“Wow.” She sounded sincerely impressed.

Victor’s smile grew a little more arrogant, his attention a little more overt. He didn’t think she was a good enough actress to be so convincing, in which event he thought a case of hero worship might serve him well.

He shrugged in faux modesty. “I do what I can.”

“And you do it very well,” Robin replied. The faint widening of her eyes told Victor she realized how she sounded. “I mean, you rescued the hostages without any customers or bank employees getting hurt.” Her eyes flicked to her left toward her photographer. Victor could see him smirking.

“Yes, I did.” He would rather have gone head to head with the Marauders in their powered armor, but Sentinel, the Guardians’ leader, had had other ideas. Victor had been a Marine in World War II, and he knew when to shut up and do what he was told. It wasn’t about him or his taste for brawling; it was about rescuing the hostages—and he’d managed it.

The interview went on for another couple of minutes. Victor answered the woman’s questions, giving her the responses he knew she expected. All the time, he gave her the benefit of his full attention, letting his interest show in his gaze. She really was beautiful. She hung on his every word, meeting his eyes with a bold look of her own, all but preening under his gaze.

“Thank you, Victor,” Robin said, caressing his name. She turned to face her photographer. “That’ll do it, Steve.”

Steve shook his head. “Jesus, Robin, could you be any more obvious about it?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, nose in the air. She tossed the recorder to him. He fumbled for a moment before catching it and scowled but didn’t pursue the issue.

Victor dismissed the man from his mind. He opened his mouth to speak just as Robin said, “I’d love to get a more in-depth interview with you, Victor.”

Victor heard her photographer choke on a stifled laugh as he turned away. I’ll just bet you would, Victor thought. And I’ll be glad to give it to you.

“What sort of interview?” Victor asked. The not-so-subtle emphasis of her words suggested that she was really angling for a date. She might do an interview too, probably would. But he wondered if she was really just a groupie when all was said and done. Not that there was anything wrong with that. He’d had his share of fun with groupies over the last few months.

“Oh, you know,” she said, twirling a hand in the air, “the usual. Some background, questions about rumors, how you got into the biz—the usual.”

“Rumors?”

“Yes.” She’d produced a compact from her purse and was checking her makeup as she spoke. “There are always rumors—you know that. For instance,” she added, eyes flicking in his direction once, “Rumor has it you and Iron Maiden are an item.”

Oh ho, Victor thought. “Not true.”

“Really?” She couldn’t keep the pleasure out of her voice.

“Really. I’m not the sort to kiss and tell, so even if we were an item, I wouldn’t discuss it. But take it from me, we are most definitely not an item.”

Not, he thought, if you mean we’re dating, at least. He and Leah—Iron Maiden to the public—certainly had fun between the sheets on a regular basis. But there was no relationship there, no emotional commitment. Just good, clean dirty fun.

“Oh. Well, then. See? That’s one rumor squashed already. So you’ll do it?”

“When and where?”

She smiled with undisguised pleasure. “Excellent!” She put away the compact and produced a business card from one pocket. “How’s eight o’clock tonight?”

Victor took the card. “Let me check my schedule.” He pretended to think for a moment. “That would be fine. That answers one question. But what about where?”

“It’s on the back of the card.”

He turned the card over and saw an address and phone number written on the back. She’d come prepared. He recognized the neighborhood, an upper middle class area in the eastern part of the city.

“Your place?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

She smiled. “It belongs to friends, actually. I’m house sitting.”

“And you’re allowed to have…guests?” He put just a hint of suggestiveness in his voice, curious as to how she’d respond.

“My friends are adults, and so am I,” she said without the faintest whiff of embarrassment. “Having guests over is hardly unexpected.”

“I suppose not.” He waved the card gently. “I’ll be there, Ms. Harris.”

“Good. And please—call me Robin.”

“Of course, Robin. Eight o’clock, then.”

“I look forward to it. Oh—how do you feel about Indian?”

“I’ll try anything once—”

She cocked her head to look at him sidelong. “I’ve heard that about you. Perhaps we’ll put that to the test.”

He grinned. “If you like. You won’t be disappointed, I promise. And as it happens, I love Indian.”

She smiled without replying then glanced over her shoulder to where her photographer was standing with Man-Ape and Sentinel. She met Victor’s eyes again. “Well, duty calls. Until tonight.”

He bowed his head briefly. “Until tonight.”

She turned and walked away. He watched her go, admiring the sway of her hips and the smooth movement of her legs.

DEADLINES

Writers have deadlines. Why are they called deadlines? Who was the genius who thought that term up?

Actually, that’s not a rhetorical question. According to The Maven’s Word of the Day:

The word deadline first appeared as an American coinage that referred to the line around a military prison beyond which soldiers were authorized to shoot escaping prisoners. According to Lossing's History of the Civil War (1868): "Seventeen feet from the inner stockade was the 'dead-line', over which no man could pass and live." This use is also found in Congressional records as early as 1864: "The 'dead line', beyond which the prisoners are not allowed to pass."

Dead line. As in dead at this point. As in cease to exist if you go THERE. Dead. Line. Deadline.

Hmmm, even though it really does feel like that at times, I am willing to bet very few authors actually DIE if they miss a deadline. So what else could it be? More Maven wisdom says:

The other possibility is that the deadline we know today as 'a point in time past which something will not be accepted' comes from an early 20th-century printing term. In the years before the first citation of deadline referring to a point in time, there are citations for deadline meaning 'a guideline on the bed of a printing press beyond which text will not print': "Make certain that the type does not come outside of the dead-line on the press" (Henry, Printing for School & Shop, 1917).

As a writer, you will always have deadlines. At first they are self imposed. You *WANT* to finish that story and have it ready to go by a certain date. If that doesn’t happen, you feel like a loser but you live. There is no sentry waiting to fill you full of lead, just a nasty wave of self-disappointment. (tastes like feet, blech)

Then you sell and, suddenly, the deadline carries more weight. You don’t get to define it anymore. There is no leisurely flipping around the manuscript looking for flaws. Nope. Your editor is waiting on that story and you have a concrete date. Copy-editors and art departments are waiting on you. You are under the gun now!

Fine, you make that deadline but there is more! Now you have a second story with a whole separate deadline. You are writing one, editing the other and oh yeah, did I mention promo? (Little things like waiting until the last minute to do that guest blog post you didn’t forget but have been putting off really jerks a knot in things). You can almost feel the deadline pressing down like iron bars.

Do that for several books.

Wow, you are in demand now! You have enough oomph behind your name to sell on proposal. Easy street, right? Wrong! Now you have a date pre-set but no real story started, just a promise and an outline. You are bound by legal issues tighter than handcuffs. If you screw up a date, you might as well pucker up and kiss your career goodbye. (with tongue)

And what about your readers, your fans? By this time, you have some. Even if it is just one woman’s library group that meets every Wednesday for prune juice and raisin cookies. They are waiting for your latest! You owe them and don’t want to let them down. *CRACK!!* Get to it!

Don’t get sloppy or lazy. That is one way to kill your writing career. (public nudity while eating Cheetos in Wal-mart is another)

Keep doing this, over and over and over. The glamorous life of a writer. It’s not all champagne and caviar. But who wants old grape juice and fish eggs anyway? Gimme a cold cup of coffee, a soft pair of pajama pants and a deadline, then watch me make magic.

I am a writer. Deadlines are my life. And I love it. I am actually on a deadline now.

The sequel to MYLA BY MOONLIGHT has been contracted by Carina Press. Titled SALOME AT SUNRISE, it is slated for a June release. So while I tappity tap tap my edits and work on the final book in the trilogy, leave me a comment(with your email addy). I will swing back by and choose one person to win a free copy of Myla by Moonlight.

You can read blurbs, excerpts, free reads and generally just play around on my website. Enjoy! *puts nose back to the grindstone*

Wicked Wednesday - Minx Malone

Hi guys,

I've been working on the sequel to my contemporary novella Beg For It (Ellora's Cave) for awhile now. I couldn't quite get a handle on Italian smooth talker Andre Lavin.

Let me know if I finally got it right in my Wednesday Work in Progress.

***

Ask For It (excerpt)


“I’m not sure about this new slogan.” Andre Lavin rubbed his hands roughly over his face trying to erase a week’s worth of stress. He was so tired he almost felt intoxicated but seeing his dream come to life was worth a thousand sleepless nights. “Living the Lavin life. It sounds like a ripoff of a cheesy pop song.”

James Lawson, owner of Mirage Advertising Agency, patted him reassuringly on the shoulder. “No worries. I’m sure we can come up with something that suits you better.”

Andre swallowed a grunt of disagreement. He wasn’t so sure. He’d already seen presentations for two alternate slogans and they were no closer to capturing the essence of what he was about than the current one. He’d been waiting his entire career to launch his international campaign and he wouldn’t see it derailed now. His debut had to be top notch. His success had been too hard won for him to chance botching things now.

“I have the production figures. We’re in good shape.” Jason Gautier, his business partner and best friend appeared at his left side. His blond hair was cut into a short spiky do, more for ease and comfort than style. His friend had been accused more than once of having a calculator for a brain and a cash register for a heart. Success was his life’s blood. It was one of the things they had in common.

“Fantastic. Do we still have that conference call with the bank this afternoon?”

“Actually there was a mix up. We’re supposed to be on that call in about ten minutes.” At his glower, Jason shrugged apologetically and crossed his arms. “Don’t shoot the messenger. How do you want to handle this?”

“Gentleman, I think I have a solution.” James waved over his assistant, a young woman with short dark hair and flashing blue eyes. He whispered something in her ear and she turned and sashayed off.

He stole a quick glance at the watch on his wrist. “The conference room isn’t booked for this afternoon, so why don’t you take your call and then come back around 3 o’clock. I’ll have our designers rearrange their schedules to accommodate you.”

“Great, that’s…” Andre trailed off as something passed his vision. A petite girl wearing an oversized monstrosity of a sweater. Her dark hair was bound back tightly into a bun and she moved like she was in a rush, her slim legs carrying her quickly behind the reception desk. She turned and her delicate profile came into view. His mind registered recognition at the same time as his body. He cursed softly and turned away slightly, giving himself time to calm down. His reaction made him feel like a lecher, especially since from a distance she looked more like a fairy child than a grown woman.

She was assisting the designers with the campaign and ever since he’d first seen her a month ago he’d been battling this borderline obsession. He knew her every expression, the way she tilted her head when she was listening or pursed her lips when she didn’t agree with something. Her skin was very pale and it made her look even more fragile. She was delicately built, petite with slim hips but something about her manner told him she had a backbone of steel.

He turned at the sharp nudge in his side. Jason lifted his eyebrows in inquiry before stretching to see over his shoulder. Andre stepped forward blocking his friend’s view of the girl. He wasn’t sure what drove the protective instinct but in that moment he didn’t want his friend even looking in her direction. It was like letting a wolf loose on a lamb.


***
Ok so that's just a little taste of Andre, a character that I love to write. He's driven, he's perfectionistic and he's about to be swept off his feet by a woman who's nothing like what he expects.

Hope you enjoyed the sneak peek. Now back to your regularly scheduled lives :)


Minx

Wicked Wednesday - KyAnn Waters

Wednesday Work in Progress.

I envy those writers who can sit down to the computer, know their story, pound out the words and finish what they start. Nope, that's not me. For every story I finish I probably start 10. I'll get a few words or a few pages then the story fizzles and I want to write something else. I guess you could say I am a bit A.D.D when it comes to writing. I don't think I've ever finished a book where I didn't change at least one character's name at least one time. But my bad habits can sometimes work in my favor. When I'm stuck and not sure what to work on next, it's those past stories I go through to find my inspiration.

So...
As I share my work in progress with you, the names, places and title will most likely change. :)

Beautiful Storm - contemporary short story - nearly complete
(unedited - first draft)

Excerpt:
Adrian Beck sat on the beach, tunneling his toes into the warm white sand. The full moon pulled the tide in and called him to the sea. Here, in the tropical breezes of Long Caye, the stress of the city couldn’t find him. Self-imposed exile suited him well. Post 9-11 New York couldn’t compete with Belize Island. Perhaps nothing ever would. There was the crux of his problems. Once he’d lost his firm—lost everything, including those most important to him—he hadn’t felt the same zeal for life. He didn’t see the beauty in buildings anymore, didn’t want to.

The prodigy Adrian Beck, a winner of the American Architecture Award, was burned out. He’d closed his firm, what was left of it after the Trade Towers came down. He hadn’t wanted to rebuild, not after losing so much.

Closing his eyes, he let the balmy night air surround him. His open shirt billowed in the gentle wind. The crash and roll of the waves lulled him to a place where he embraced solitude.

Last week he’d received a phone call. Isa Clemet, developer of luxury casino resorts wanted a meeting. No amount of negotiations would get him back, but that didn’t seem to stop the tenacious billionaire from insisting on a face-to-face meeting. He chuckled. Post 9-11 merges with post Katrina. Not funny, but he couldn’t help seeing the humor. Clemet Casinos wanted to build on the coast in Biloxi, Mississippi. Ms. Clemet wanted the best—she wanted Adrian.

Too bad. Adrian had no intention of giving up his private piece of paradise.

Moonlight shimmered off the cresting waves. Tropical breeze coming off the sea cooled his skin. The salty tang on his lips did make him long for a woman to hold, to kiss, to spread her smooth legs and slide his restless cock into her hot welcoming sheath.

Adrian cursed. How long had it been since he’d had someone special in his life? Three maybe four years. Since before he came to Belize Island to escape the real world.

Gulls rustled in the leaves of the tropical foliage. The spongy sand popped and whispered to him—taunted him. Adrian had always compared a woman to the ocean. Sometimes she could be as fierce as a tropical storm, unpredictable and dangerous and other times calm and wet, like sailing on a cloudless day.

Adrian leaned forward and rested his arms on his bent knees. Movement on the water caught his eye. Silver shimmer stretched into the horizon. He squinted. A swimmer. Long limbs broke the surface. And if he wasn’t mistaken—a woman—swam closer.

A wave caught her and brought her to shore. She stood, a nude goddess born of the sea. His heart pounded. She emerged from the tide, water sluicing over her arousing form. He followed a bead of moisture down her face. Sculpted eyebrows arched over wide almond shaped eyes. At this distance, he couldn’t make out the color, but her skin was bronzed by the sun. Raking her fingers through her hair, she combed her long wet tresses away from her face. She paused and stared at him. Full luscious lips titled into a soft smile. Not a joyous grin, but a sinful smirk that hinted at mischief.


I'll be back later with another excerpt from my BDSM work in progress.

Happy Hump Day,
KyAnn

Chasing Mr. Darcy - From Wacky to Wicked

Has there ever been a truth so universally acknowledged as this:

Women love Mr. Darcy.



P&P seems to have enjoyed a remarkable number of revisions lately, some refreshing and some downright ridiculous. Join us as we take a look at the most recent Pride and Prejudice remixes.

Let me count the ways...



2009 Books

1)Loving Mr. Darcy: Journeys Beyond Pemberley (Pride & Prejudice Continues) by Sharon Lathan

2)Pride and Prejudice and Zombies: The Classic Regency Romance - Now with Ultraviolent Zombie Mayhem! by Jane Austen and Seth Grahame-Smith

3)According To Jane by Marilyn Brant

4)Mr. Darcy, Vampyre by Amanda Grange

5)Waiting for Mr. Darcy (Indigo) by Chamein Canton

6)A Little Bit Psychic: Pride & Prejudice with a modern twist by Aimée Avery

7)Bargain with the Devil: A Spicy Retelling of Pride and Prejudice (Volume 1) by Enid Wilson

8)The Trials of the Honorable F. Darcy by Sara Angelini

9)Fate And Consequences: A Tale Of Pride And Prejudice by Linda Wells

10)The Other Mr. Darcy: Did you know Mr. Darcy had an American cousin? by Monica Fairview

11)Mr. & Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy: Two Shall Become One (Mr & Mrs Fitzwilliam Darcy) by Sharon Lathan

12)The Private Diary of Mr. Darcy: A Novel by Maya Slater

13)Darcy's Passions: Pride and Prejudice Retold Through His Eyes by Regina Jeffers

14)Vampire Darcy's Desire: A Pride and Prejudice Adaptation by Regina Jeffers

15)Mr. Darcy's Dream: A Novel by Elizabeth Aston

16)Darcy's Temptation: A Sequel to Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice by Regina Jeffers



2010 Books


1)Pemberley's Promise: An Uncharted Voyage with Mr. Darcy by Kara Louise

2)My Dearest Mr. Darcy: An amazing journey into love everlasting by Sharon Lathan

3) Mr. Darcy Broke My Heart: A Novel by Beth Pattillo

4)Pride/Prejudice: A Novel of Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth Bennet, and Their Forbidden Lovers by Ann Herendeen

5)Conquering Mr. Darcy by Abigail Reynolds

6)Mr. Darcy's Great Escape: A tale of the Darcys & the Bingleys by Marsha Altman

7)Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy: The Last Man in the World by Abigail Reynolds



Has there ever been another novel as revised and reworked as many times as this? If I had gone back and included prior year books I fear this post would never end!

What do you think of this Pride and Prejudice obsession, just a trend or an enduring genre? Just how much Mr. Darcy can we take?

Just a thought,

Minx