Is Beth a Sex Addict?

I've been thinking a lot lately about sex addicts. Not people who love sex and can't get enough of it (see my MySpace blog on Truths and Myths about being a slut for more on that one), but people who are truly addicted to sex, much the same as people are addicted to drugs, alcohol, and nicotine. The people I'm thinking about need their "drug" of choice (including sex) so much that they pursue it even when they know it's definitely not in their own best interests.

Take Beth Walsh, my main character from my suspense novel High Risk. Beth, to all outward appearances, is just another yuppie housewife: affluent, beautiful, and basically a good person: she loves her mother; she volunteers at Chicago's Children's Hospital; she even seems to be a devoted wife to her attorney husband. But Beth's dark side is, I believe, sexual addiction. And, like any addict, I think Beth deserves compassion and sympathy because she's wrestling with more than just bad morals and poor impulse control when she tricks around behind the husband she proclaims to love, she's wrestling with a disease that has gone unchecked and uncontrolled for far too long.

To prove my point, I stepped once more inside Beth's twisted psyche to answer some questions for her. The questions below were developed by the Sexual Addicts Anonymous 12-step Program to help determine if you've crossed the line from simple horn dog to addict. So, as Beth, here are "her" answers to the questions that determine sexual addiction:

1. Do you keep secrets about your sexual or romantic activities from those important to you? Do you lead a double life?
Oh God, yes. I feel like almost everyone who knows me: my mom, my dad, and especially, Mark, my husband, would turn their backs on me in an instant if they knew some of the things I do when Mark is away at work. I definitely have a double life, complete with different clothes, make-up, and even a personality. I'm not proud of it, but there it is.
2. Have your needs driven you to have sex in places or situations or with people you would not normally choose?
This question makes me shudder when I think of some of the ways I've let myself be used (by a father and son in one shameful episode) in the pursuit of "pleasure." The funny thing is I never really get much "pleasure" from these experiences, yet I never seem to learn...the next time will always be better.
3. Do you find yourself looking for sexually arousing articles or scenes in newspapers, magazines, or other media?
I don't have to. My weekday afternoons of promiscuity are enough to keep me "aroused"...and ashamed. But I will confess that seeing a hot man on a book cover or on TV or in a magazine can be enough to make me start guiltily planning my next adventure.
4. Do you find that romantic or sexual fantasies interfere with your relationships or are preventing you from facing problems?
Yes....in two ways, the first is when I start to get hungry for some "variety." As the need (or obsession) builds, I tend to block out the rest of my life to figure out how I can get my next "fix." Second, after I do have an encounter, I find the guilt and shame can make it hard for me to function normally with family and friends...the depression is too great.
5. Do you frequently want to get away from a sex partner after having sex? Do you frequently feel remorse, shame, or guilt after a sexual encounter?
Yes, I'm like a man in that regard (or at least some men I've run across). Once I've had an orgasm, the shame and guilt rush in and I just want to get home, and back to Mark, and back the person I wish I was.
6. Do you feel shame about your body or your sexuality, such that you avoid touching your body or engaging in sexual relationships? Do you fear that you have no sexual feelings, that you are asexual?
Sometimes I wish I had these feelings, but I sometimes wonder if my hypersexuality has its roots in the way my father made me feel worthless growing up.
7. Does each new relationship continue to have the same destructive patterns which prompted you to leave the last relationship?
Since each new "relationship" usually lasts only for a few hours, this is a tough one to answer. I don't really have relationships, I have encounters. And, as I said above, these encounters should teach me a lesson about not getting the gratification I seek, but they never seem to.
8. Is it taking more variety and frequency of sexual and romantic activities than previously to bring the same levels of excitement and relief?
Yes. I find myself doing things I never thought I was capable of...and with people I wouldn't normally have anything to do with in my "other" life.
9. Have you ever been arrested or are you in danger of being arrested because of your practices of voyeurism, exhibitionism, prostitution, sex with minors, indecent phone calls, etc.?
The thoughts I have been having lately about a certain man, Abbott Lowery, who has been stalking me and threatening to expose me and ruin my life could certainly result in my being arrested...for murder. I'm scared.
10. Does your pursuit of sex or romantic relationships interfere with your spiritual beliefs or development?
Who has time for spiritual development? So, yes. I know what I'm doing is wrong in so many ways, yet I can't seem to help myself.
11. Do your sexual activities include the risk, threat, or reality of disease, pregnancy, coercion, or violence?
Oh yes. I am constantly afraid of bringing home an STD, or worse, HIV, to Mark. There's not only the risk of exposure and everything blowing up in my face, but there's also the horror of infecting an innocent person because of my behavior.
12. Has your sexual or romantic behavior ever left you feeling hopeless, alienated from others, or suicidal?
Sadly, yes. For everything I've said above. I feel especially alienated because no one knows the real me, the secrets I hide, and I fear that, if they did, they would hate me.

Sex Addicts Anonymous urges people who answer even one of these questions with a yes to seek help. Poor Beth. How low does she have to sink before she can get a grip on her self-destructive and high risk behavior?

Order High Risk to find out.

Galaxy Gone Wild review

Reviewed by Fallen Angels Reviews

Galaxy Gone Wild

The men of the planet Barth -- particularly the nobility -- think of women as interchangeable pieces on the playground of life, useful only for their sexual talents and occasional childbearing. This attitude has been encouraged by the emperor of Barth. But the emperor’s son, Prince Strom, feels oddly dissatisfied with life in general. Perhaps it’s because he’s currently between “consorts” and just doesn’t feel the need to get another. Then at the auction, he notices Jada, a woman from the planet Cada, who, to his amazement, incites his desire. Intrigued, Strom buys Jada’s services for the next several months. Little does Strom know that Jada is on a mission to kidnap him -- or that, together, they will change the Galaxy!

The author has taken a number of traditional SF plot elements, and subtly twisted them just a bit, so that they appear unusual and new. For instance, instead of the well-known male rescuer of the damsel in distress, in this case, it is the female who is the kidnapper/rescuer of the male protagonist. The heroine is the leader in the space adventures, helping the less-experienced hero to escape. It is the heroine who determines the outcome of their adventures, and introduces the hero to a new way of life. Indeed, the author has concentrated all her character-building efforts on the two lead characters, leaving the rest of the cast slightly superficial. The erotic scenes are nicely done, including one scene with a m/m/f ménage, and a scene with voyeuristic alien space pirates. I quite enjoyed this very interesting SF story!Reviewed by: Jean

This came right as I'm gearing up for the release of the sequel...

Galaxy Gone 2 Wild

Sex for three opens the portal to the enchantment, but can they handle the heat when their number increases to four?

Sonya’s impulsive mission for revenge will alter her life forever. Alphan is about to change his mind about everything he’s ever believed. He’d always believed it would take three to open the portal to the enchantment. He never expected the third being in the equation would be another man. When four are party to the awakening, will he handle the heat?

The entire galaxy will never be the same when the long dormant and legendary enchantment is discovered by a warrior giant and the woman he’s always wanted.

A SURE THING

A Sure Thing by Brit Blaise ISBN-13: 978-1-60272-258-3 (Electronic)

What happens when a sassy, savvy, plus-sized professional woman jumps out of her element and into the frying pan? Can she resort to cooking to get a shot at a sure thing?

Cara Thomas is confronted with her worst nightmare—the kitchen stove. For her thirtieth birthday, she receives the unwelcome gift of cooking lessons from her mother. Cara doesn’t care if the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. The only thing she finds interesting about a man’s stomach is a six-pack of muscles and she doesn’t expect to find them in the kitchen. Her best friend’s promise of hot sex with the chef, however, motivates Cara to take his class.

But XXX-treme cooking?

Hunky master-chef Mike Nichols dislikes taking time to teach cooking classes, but when a local TV station decides to film the segments, how can he refuse? His partner and co-owner of the restaurant delivers the usual bevy of blonde-baking-Barbies for the filming...but one voluptuous redhead steals the show and maybe his heart.

In the world of desserts and love, Mike proves to be as bold and buttery as they come! He gives Cara a preview of what she’s been missing her entire life and she develops a taste for more. But is she brave enough to see where it leads...even when it involves cooking?

Sparks fly—and it isn’t the Baked Alaska!

Genres: Contemporary / Romantic Comedy / Exhibitionism / Public Places / Rubenesque Heat Level: 2 Length: Extended Novella (38k words)

Read a short excerpt...

...At midday, Cara found herself trying to work up the nerve to walk into the French restaurant for her cooking lessons. The memory of the time she burned her parents’ kitchen to cinders as a teenager haunted her. Could it be possible her refusal to step within a mile of a stove made her an unlikely candidate for marriage? Her mother insisted it did.

If it weren’t for Riva’s sure thing guarantee, no way would she be doing this. Taking a gulp of air, she locked her hand around the handle of the heavy-looking carved door and gave it a tug. The sight of wall-to-wall people in a lobby better suited to a boutique hotel than a five-star restaurant surprised her.

Cara pushed into the crowded room and began to search for someone to give her directions. When she took a closer look at the women who surrounded her, she stopped. There were almost a dozen tall blondes in slinky black dresses, cramped together and trying to look bored.
Could all these Vogue wannabes have come for cooking lessons?

Cara tried to become invisible. When that failed, she stood straighter, stretching her five-foot-nine inch frame another quarter-inch and wished she’d worn her slut-city shoes, too.

“Everyone who’s here to participate in Chef Nichols’ cooking lessons, please follow me,” one of the women said. Another blonde, but this one had pizzazz. When the woman waved her hand in the air with a motion for the group to follow, a diamond solitaire, at least four carats in size, sparkled under the light of the chandelier. She made all the other women in the room look like day-old bread.

Compared to Cara…she didn’t want to go there. The thin woman could easily fit twice into Cara’s suit.

“Are you here for Chef Mike’s class?” asked an older lady standing to Cara’s left.

Cara nodded. The taste of lip gloss reminded her to quit chewing her lip. Someone might guess the idea of cooking had her rattled. And, she told herself, allowing her mother to talk her into cooking lessons didn’t make her a pushover. After all, none of these anemic women could know she’d nearly burned her parents’ house to the ground while attempting to make French fries. None of these women looked like she’d even eat a French fry, let alone cook one.

“Michael is a wonderful teacher,” the woman gushed. “This is the third time I’ve taken his class.”
“That’s nice,” Cara said, visions of well-built firemen popping into her head. Ordinarily it would be a good thing, but cooking with a mob of too-skinny blondes redefined her perception of being out of her element.

“Don’t worry. You’ll do just fine,” the woman assured.

“Why bother to worry when you can just as easily obsess?” Cara quipped. She followed behind while the statuesque leader showed the group into the kitchen.

“Welcome, everyone, to Chef Mike Nichols’ kitchen!” The woman gave an exuberant Vanna White sweep of her skinny arms.

Cara had only a moment to be captivated by the sparkling white walls and gleaming metallic surfaces before she spied the cameras. Why were there TV cameras in the kitchen? Riva might want her face in front of a camera. Cara definitely did not.

“That’s not good,” she said under her breath, her feet glued to the floor while everyone else continued to file into the room. “I can’t do this. I don’t like to have my picture taken, let alone this,” she said to anyone who cared to listen.

Cara’s mouth started to dry. She managed multi-million-dollar portfolios and yet the thought of cooking in front of cameras reduced her to a mass of quivering green Jell-O—the only thing she could cook, once she’d coerced someone else into boiling the water.

The sound of a dull thud penetrated her fear. Cara turned her head to see a metal tray careen toward her out of the corner of her eye and then heard the tray’s contents hit the floor with a crash.

“Shi—shoot! Please move the camera cord before someone gets killed.” The big man who had just dropped the tray stood defiantly, fists on his hips, glaring at the cameraman. Just as quickly, the frown left his face when he glanced over at Cara.

She felt like a deer caught in the headlights surrounded by a herd of blonde heads as she looked back at the man who had to be Chef Mike. The sure thing? Her sure thing? No way!

Cara had to remind herself to breathe as she looked at him—inch by incredible inch. There were so many hunky inches she couldn’t take them in fast enough. Perhaps seventy-five of them in all, and each begged for her complete attention. Hunk with a capital “H.” She was getting hot just looking at him. Chef Mike? Could she get that lucky? This was her sure thing?...

More?

www.britblaise.com
www.myspace.com/britblaise

And now introducing...

Hi Everyone,

Melissa Bradley here, a 2008 Heat Wave winner and AQP newbie. I wanted to take this opportunity to tell you a little bit about myself and my work. I’m a steel town girl from Chicago’s southeast side and I grew up hearing all sorts of stories thanks to my father, Patrick, and my Uncle “Moose.” I heard ‘em all from giants and aliens to dragons and princesses and … well you get the picture.

My favorite stories were always the ones where women save the day. My favorite heroines as a kid were Wonder Woman, the Bionic Woman and Firestar. Then along came Buffy, Dark Angel, the Charmed sisters, Xena and Kara “Starbuck” Thrace. I devoured tales of women like Boadicea, Zenobia and the Amazon. Warrior women fascinate me and so do the men (and women) who love them. This is how the idea for my story, MICHAEL’S KEEPER, was born.

My heroine, Ryanne Night-Walker, is the Crossroads Gatekeeper. Gatekeepers are the most powerful of magical humans and responsible for keeping demons and creatures of the Other Realm out of our world. However, this power comes with a heavy price.

A woman like this needed a real strong (and really hot) man to challenge and compliment her. Since I’ve always been partial to werewolves, my hero had to be one and an alpha at that. Enter Michael St. John, leader of the largest and most powerful werewolf pack in the Midwest.

Here’s a quick synopsis:

Ryanne Night-Walker is a paranormal investigator dealing with everything from ghosts and curses to poltergeists and hexes. She’s also the Crossroads Gatekeeper, charged with protecting humanity from all demonic activity. The last thing she expects when the handsome stranger walks into her office is a firestorm of sex and magic that changes her reality forever. Michael St. John, alpha werewolf, is desperate to save his pack from destruction at the hands of a demon and the Crossroads Gatekeeper is his only hope. He never anticipated she would also be his mate.

Their relationship can never be. As Gatekeeper, Ryanne is forbidden to love. Nothing must come before the good of humanity in the eyes of the Celestial Council. They must defy the power of Heaven itself to save Michael’s wolves and remain together.

I envision this story becoming a series because there are so many interesting adventures ahead for Ryanne and Michael, not to mention other fascinating characters that have their own stories to tell. Speaking of interesting adventures, lest you think my mind only resides in the realm of fantasy, I am hard at work on sexy contemporary piece as well as a sci fi trilogy and a historical jaunt or three... did I mention my brain never shuts off and my story idea notebook has now become a filing cabinet?


MICHAEL’S KEEPER should be out June 8 and I will post an excerpt as soon as I have one. Thank you for reading and I look forward to being part of the Amber Quill family.

Melissa Bradley
MICHAEL'S KEEPER
www.myspace.com/melbwrites

Pardon our dust...We're Measuring Up

Those of you at the RT Convention in Pittsburgh, PA know what I'm talking about. In addition to dozens of cover models, there are carpenters everywhere. Apparently, the entire fourth floor and parts of every other storey are draped in plastic, and the sounds of power tools resonate throughout the building. You can't always hear the ruckus, of course. When Adrianna and her elevator buddies are singing choruses of SORRY, for example, you likely won't notice the power sander in the background.

But needless to say, this renovation dust reminded me of very first release with Amber Quill Press, Measuring Up.

Here's what it's about:

Ty used to protect Nicki from undeserving men…like himself. Now he’s wishing she’d fall for him.

She has a brilliant mind for interior design, but she’s posing nude for art students. And he’s long since taken to sketching homes instead of women. But when she arrives in Fort Lauderdale, all grown up with dangerous curves and an attractive sense of wisdom, he can’t resist the urge to draw her. With pressure to win the construction industry’s coveted Key Award and the title of Custom Homebuilder of the Year—not to mention a pregnant ex-girlfriend with allegations—he doesn’t have time for a romantic hassle. Especially with the one woman he’d never disappointed. But the sexual tension steaming between them is enough to fuel a hurricane, and never before had a woman’s body proved so inspiring. Before he knows what’s happening, they’re putting their heads together on the jobsite—and their bodies together in the bedroom.

Unlike his relationships of the past, however, he has much to sacrifice should this one run amok. He can’t win the Key Award without her help, her friendship is irreplaceable … and after tumbling in the sheets amid double standards and a secret paternity suit, he can forget about regaining her respect. Will he ever measure up to the man she thinks he is?

And here's a taste of Ty Carmichael's constant renovations:

She stood in the car, hands gripping the windshield, and studied the house looming before her, Mediterranean in architectural style. While larger than the neighboring structures, its size wasn’t overwhelming or overbearing, due to the shallow pitch of the roof and the quaint, covered porch wrapping around the east and south sides.

The stucco was pale yellow, suspiciously close to the color of Betty, and arched, mint green shutters framed the windows. A black wrought iron railing caged the half-moon ledge of a single, square window high in the gable.

“Charming,” she whispered, climbing out of the car.

“Don’t draw any conclusions yet.” Ty led her onto the porch. “I know you like things a certain way. Orderly. And the entrails of this shack are anything but.”

“I’m sure it’s fine.”

“Far from it, really. If I’d known you were coming, I might have put some of it back together for you, but…” He pushed the door wide open to reveal raw studs, drywall dust. Plywood floors. “Enter at your own risk.”

She took a tentative step inside. “It’s…” Filthy came to mind. She looked up, down, around. Half the house seemed to be gutted without rhyme or reason. Unlivable. “It’s huge.”

“Yeah, it’s big for just me, but it was too good a deal to pass up. My neighbor Verna needed the money after her husband died.” He shoved the keys into his pocket. “Come on. I’ll show you around.”

She didn’t know if she could stand to see much more, but she followed him through a labyrinth of two-by-fours, past a sanded-down staircase.

“Here’s a bathroom.” When he scooted a sheet of quarter-inch plywood aside, he revealed a tiny powder room beneath the stairs, wallpapered in 1970’s olive velour stripes. “It’s workable, but not entirely private. I bid on a vintage door—gotta love eBay, right?—but until it arrives, this’ll have to make do.” He knocked on the plywood.

She shrugged. “Does the plumbing work?”

“Yeah, if you jiggle the handle and hold the flapper.”

“Quite a bit of effort for a flush, don’t you think?”

“I’ll get around to finishing things. I guess I started with the outside, and I’m working my way in.”

Just like a man. “So what’s your décor?”

“Décor?”

“Mediterranean, to fit the style? Nautical, to fit the locale?”

“And you don’t consider yourself a designer?” His smile became a snicker.

“Say art deco, and I’ll smack you.”

He flipped his dirty cap off with one hand, smoothed his hair with the other, and placed the hat back on his head. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“No, I thought I’d see where the project takes me.”

Worse than art deco. “You mean you don’t have plans?”

“Sure, I have plans.”

“Let’s see them.”

“They’re all up here.” He tapped his temple.

“You’re kidding, right?”

“You should’ve seen the place, Nicki Jeanne. Orange shag carpeting. Wrought iron painted white. It was itching for a sledge hammer.”

“You’d rather live like this?”

“Well, yeah. Unlike you, I just…go with the flow. I’ve never been very good at plans.”

“You’re better than good. Who blocked out the house you’re working on now?”

“That’s different. When it comes to structure and layout, I can hold my own. But hit me with a question on detail—motifs, period décor—and I’m clueless. Ray can’t afford an interior consultant, so if you’re going to be around for a while, you can help me win that Key.”

“You don’t need my help. And who says I’m sticking around?”

“Three suitcases and a carry-on?” He flashed a quick smile. “I’m open to suggestions. For this place and the job site.”

She wandered farther down the hall, stepping over a tangle of disconnected electrical whips and wires. “Where do you cook in all this chaos?”

“On the grill.”

“Okay, where do you store food?”

“In the refrigerator.”

“So you have a kitchen.”

“Part of a kitchen anyway. Want to see it?”

“I don’t know. Do I?”

“Would you rather skip it and go straight upstairs?”

Her glance caught his. “Do you say that to all the girls?”

He chuckled. “There’s a livable room up there. Intact. Untouched. Where you can sleep.”

A livable room. One room. “Just one?”

“The rest of the bedrooms are kind of in pieces. I wasn’t expecting out-of-towners. I mean, who’s going to visit—my family?”

“If I take your room, where are you going to sleep?”

He swiped sweat from his cheek with the shrug of a shoulder. “We’ve shared a bed before, right? I can be good until I slap another room together.” He kicked at a lump of construction dust. “I guess I could sleep on the floor. Or on the porch maybe, depending on the heat.” He pulled at his tape measure. “The weather, that is.”

A distinct silence settled between them. Suddenly Ty, the man famous for encouraging celibacy, seemed to be undressing her with his eyes.

The heat of his gaze covered her like a hot mist, and the lingering memory of the prelude to his aborted kiss at the job site rushed through her. She didn’t dare move a muscle, for fear he might look away, and she felt beautiful under his scrutiny, as if she’d been thirsting for it for years. Powerful. Intense.

He pulled at his tape measure, and the click of its retraction echoed in the demolished hallway. “I need a shower.”

Interested in what Romantic Times BOOKclub reviewers had to say about it? Well...

"This novel has well-developed characters and detailed settings. Secondary conflicts are spun from the original tensions, making the characters' reactions logical and convincing. The story brims with an emotional intensity that never stops. From the first scene, the attraction between Ty and Nicki goes beyond lust to a deep concern for one another that makes their relationship convincing and emotionally satisfying."--Roseann Marlett, Romantic Times Reviews 4 STARS

If you're interested in learning more about Measuring Up, click below:

http://amberquill.com/MeasuringUp.html

In the spirit of the Hilton in downtown Pittsburgh, near PNC Park (who knew they tore down Three Rivers Stadium? And yes, carpenters did that, too,) I salute the tradesmen of the world!

Penny Dawn
www.pennydawn.com
Romance...with a Passion!

Elevator Music at RT

One must find amusement wherever possible, even at a large convention such as the Romantic Times Booklovers Convention. If you've ever been to one of these conventions you know that the only thing rivaling the wait in line for functions, is the waiting to get an elevator.

This afternoon, on the way to my booksigning at Club RT, I left my room about twenty minutes early in order to make it to Club RT at my appointed time. Surprisingly, the elevator arrived immediately, but we had to go down to the ballroom level which was about ten floors down.

Kelsey Lewis






We stopped at floor ten and jammed one more person into the elevator, saying "sorry" to those left behind on the tenth floor. Next stop, the ninth floor and another chorus of "sorry" went out from the crew riding down.

At the eighth floor a gentleman at the back says, "we really need to vocalize this better." Volunteers offer further direction resulting in three-part harmony. So between the sixth and seventh floors practice was held. I must say the first performance at the fifth floor left a bit to be desired. But by the time we reached the fourth floor harmony reigned.


Chevon Gael







I can't speak for the audience on each of these floors, but it certainly entertained the captive performers in the elevator car.

Entertainment at conventions can be found in the most unlikely places.

On to the Faerie Ball tonight. :-)

Adrianna

Chasing Booty--sneak peak

This is due out May 11th from Amber Quill. I haven't gotten a cover yet. It's a science-fiction erotica. I had a blast with with one.

EXCERPT:

“I’m looking for a Saurian, goes by the name of Gagmar. He’s a little over seven feet tall with a sleek build and reptilian skin.”

She slid a three-by-five pictograph engraved with Gagmar’s likeness toward him.
The man picked up the picture. “A Chamaeleon?”

Gaelyn nodded. “He can change the color of his skin, as well as the texture.”

“It’s a good thing they wear clothes,” the bartender said, his words slurred by the deformity of his lips. “Otherwise you’d never see ’em. Yeah, he was here. ’Bout a day or so ago. Said he needed to ditch some bounty bitch.”

He glanced at her, a smirk tugging at the corner of his crooked mouth.

Gaelyn snorted. “Did he say how long he’d be staying?”

The bartender shook his head. “Nope. But I expect he’s still around. You might check the ice tunnels in Sector 2. Them lizard folk don’t feel cold like the rest of us. Seems a good place to start.”

She thanked him for the information, downed her drink in one gulp, and handed him the empty shot glass. “Hey,” she said, just as he turned to leave, “anyone else asked about him?”

The bartender pondered her a moment, contemplating his response. He nodded and leaned toward her. “Big guy. Long black hair. Red skin. Looked like the devil ’imself.”

His voice scarcely reached a whisper. The mingled aromas of bourbon and cigarettes danced on his breath, combined with the putrid odor of infected flesh. Gaelyn tried not to gag.

Before asking him anything else, the door to the bar creaked open. The hairs on Gaelyn’s neck stood at attention. Straining to see around the bartender’s impeding frame, she caught a glimpse of the scale-skinned figure standing in the threshold.
Gagmar.

Their glares locked across the smoke-filled room, her golden honey eyes clashing with his forest green. The texture and color of his skin instantly changed to match the scarred wood grain of the front door. Only his khaki pants and brown leather coat prevented him from blending right in, becoming near invisible to the naked eye.

“I’ll have to settle my bill later.” Gaelyn jumped to her feet and practically knocked the bartender aside as she moved to get around him.

While she doubted he’d send the cops after her for one unpaid shot of whiskey, she didn’t make a habit of dodging bar tabs. She always kept her word. Once she’d either captured or secured her hit, she’d return and pay up.

“Sure,” he replied, trying to get out of her way.

By the time she sidestepped the stunned bartender, Gagmar had turned tail and ran. The front door stood ajar from his hasty retreat.

“Dammit!” Whipping a stun gun from her hip holster, Gaelyn raced out the door after him.

An empty alley greeted her. She scanned the pathway from front to back, top to bottom, slowly making her way behind the bar. It appeared as though he’d vanished.

He’s here…

Her eyes strained to see an outline, a shape, anything.

I know he’s here!

But without her de-cloaking goggles, she’d never see him, even if he stood against the wall right in front of her.

That slimy son of a…

She spotted what looked to be an article of clothing tucked behind a pile of empty crates near the back door. Using the toe of her boot, she pulled the item from its hiding spot. Instantly recognizing the khaki pants, she knew she’d been duped.

“Dammit!” Re-holstering her weapon, she retraced her steps and went back inside the bar. Ignoring the bewildered patrons who’d all stopped to watch her entrance, she went straight for the counter.

“Where are the ice caves?” she demanded, not waiting for the bartender to finish pouring his customer’s drink. “What’s the quickest way there?”

The bartender nodded toward a shrouded figure seated at the other end.
Gaelyn grit her teeth. She didn’t have time for games. Glancing at the cloaked being through narrowed eyes, she quickly evaluated any potential level of threat.

Male. Tall. Well-built. Who is this guy? Where’d he come from?

She hadn’t noticed him before.

With an air of don’t-fuck-with-me in her step, she made her way toward him. “The bartender seems to think you can be of some assistance,” she declared, stopping a mere six inches to the left of the man’s seated frame.

He ignored her, choosing instead to take a long swig from his mug.

Removing her laser from its holster on her left thigh, she plopped it onto the counter top. Her hand rested lightly on its black metallic shape, her finger hugging the trigger. “Well?”

“I can take you there, for a price,” he replied, his deep voice a thunderous rumble within his muscular chest.

Annoyed, she lifted her chin. “Name it,” she practically growled.

The man chuckled. “It’ll be steep,” he warned. “Perhaps more than you’re willing to pay.”

Gaelyn’s patience wore thin. They wasted precious time. Is this guy gonna get down to business or what?

Struggling to see his face beneath the shadowed hood, she leaned a little closer. “Look, buddy. I don’t have time for games. Either name your price or I’ll take my business elsewhere.”

He glanced at her, his onyx, deep-set eyes two bottomless black pits within his handsome angular face. “I want half the booty. For starters.”

Gaelyn’s breath caught in her throat. Reese.

This wasn’t happening.

He pulled back his hood, letting the heavy material fall onto his broad shoulders in a neatly folded pleat. “Hello, Gael. It’s been a long time.”

Shannon Leigh

Let's make some whoopie!

Here's an interesting recipe for Whoopie Pies.

1 box of chocolate cake mix
3 eggs
1/2 cup vegetable oil
1/4 cup cocoa powder
1 1/4 cups vanilla frosting
1 1/4 cups whipped topping, thawed

1) Heat oven to 350 degrees. Coat 4 baking sheets with nonstick cooking spray and set aside.
2) In a large bowl, combine cake mix, eggs, oil, and cocoa powder. Beat on low for 30 seconds or until combined. Beat on medium speek for 2 more minutes; batter will be very thick. Drop batter by level tablespoons onto prepared baking sheets, 2 inches apart, for a total of 40 cookies. Bake at 350 degrees for 10 minutes, rotating baking sheets halfway through. Use a metal spatula to quickly transfer cookies to racks and allow to cool.
3) Meanwhile, in a small bowl, stir together vanilla frosting adn whipped topping. Spread a heaping tablespoon of frosting mixture onto flat side of one cooled cookie, then place the flat side of the second cookie on top. Repeat.

Viola! We have desert to go with our chicken.

Shannon

Sliced Mango Chicken

I was reading through a Family Circle magazine a few minutes ago and came across this recipe. I love mangos so it looked pretty good to me.

1 tbsp vegetable oil
4 boneless, skinless checken breasts cut crosswise into 1/2-inch slices
1/2 tsp salt
1/4 tsp black pepper
1 bottle (10 oz) mango chutney
1 tsp prepared mustard
1 tbsp cornstarch
1/2 cup mango-orange juice
1 package (8 oz) frozen greenbeans and almonds, thawed
1 fresh ripe mango, peeled, pit removed, and thinly sliced

1) Heat oil in large nonstick skillet over medium-high heat. Season chicken wiht salt and pepper.
2) Add chicken to skillet and cook for about 6 minutes, stirring occasionally, until browned and no longer pink. Remove chicken to a plate, cover loosely and keep warm.
3) Add cutney and mustard to skillet. Stir cornstarch into mango-orange juice until disolved; add to skillet. Stir to combine. Simmer on medium-low for 2 minutes, stirring occasionally.
4) Place chicken and string beans into skillet, reserving the toasted almonds. Cook 2 minutes until heated through.
5.) To serve, sprinkle nuts on top and garnish with sliced mango.

Serving suggestion: brown rice.

Now lets see if I can find a desert...

Shannon

Hellooooo!

I've got a feeling everyone is at RT. I'm talkin' to myself here. *sigh* Ah well, maybe someone's lurking. I'll keep posting.

Shannon

Chinatown Buffet--blurb and excerpt

Chinatown Buffet
by Shannon Leigh
ISBN: 1-59279-421-1 (Electronic)
Available at Amber Quill Press

They say the road to success is a lonely one. Newly named corporate executive of the Chinese American Development Corporation, Ms. Mei Ling Zhao, can attest to this. Hated by her subordinates, her acquired status has truly left her friendless and in need of some male attention. After a long week of dealing with spiteful employees, threatening letters, and one headache after another, she treats herself to a much-needed drink and an order of fast-food—Chinese takeout, via "special delivery."

While Mei Ling expects her meal to arrive smoking hot and in a timely manner, she doesn’t anticipate her delivery boy to be tall, tanned Texan with a black Stetson, levis that cling to all the right places, and seafoam eyes that remind her of ocean water pooling on the shore. And yet, when she opens her door, that’s exactly what she finds standing on her stoop.

Seems the Chinatown Buffet is in the business of delivering more than just a tasty meal, and Mei Ling is about to find out what "special delivery" really means...

Genres: Contemporary / Interracial / Multicultural
Heat Level: 2
Length: Extended Amber Kiss (15k words)

EXCERPT:
…His barging into her home uninvited had surprised her. But when his T-shirt followed his hat onto the ottoman, Mei Ling nearly choked on her shock. “I’m afraid there’s been some sort of mistake here,” she gasped, trying not to stare at his nicely formed pectorals.

She certainly had no intention of appreciating the golden mass of curly brown wisps feathered across his chest and washboard abs. Or how a thickened swatch ran downward from his navel to disappear into the waistband of his jeans. And she absolutely refused to acknowledge the interest peaking within herself—the increased heart rate, the needful throb deep within her belly, the dampness in her panties.

As though ignoring her statement, he continued to undress. His boots followed along behind his shirt. Then his socks. He’d was just unzipping his pants when Mei Ling realized if she didn’t intervene, she’d soon have a naked man standing in the middle of her living room.

“Wait! Please. I really don’t understand what’s going on here.”

Quickly crossing the room, she darted for the ottoman and his growing pile of clothing. Then she snatched up his shirt and thrust it toward him. “Here, put this back on. You can’t just barge in here and start taking your clothes off. I don’t know if this is some kind of a joke, but I only ordered…I don’t even know who you are for Pete’s sake!”

He stared at her, long and hard, seemingly trying to figure out if she were playing a game or genuinely confused. “Ya really didn’t know what special delivery meant when ya ordered it, did ya.” It wasn’t a question, but rather a declaration.

“Apparently not.”

***

Shannon Leigh

Lycan Lore excerpt *ADULT!*

Lycan Lore
ISBN #: 978-1-60272-137-1
Genre: Short Paranormal Erotica/Dark Fantasy/Werewolf
Publisher: Amber Quill Press
Purchase URL

BLURB:

Being the tag-along on a camping trip with Heather and Graham is not what Cassandra has in mind for her long weekend. When a tall, dark stranger with staggering green eyes shows up to lend a hand with her tent assembly from Hell, however, she has to rethink her predicament. Despite the mixture of excitement and apprehension he incites with his soul-startling stare, the possibility that she’s just found her brawny Tarzan in the depths of Redwood National Park suddenly doesn’t seem so absurd.

Cray feels an equally potent draw to the fiery redhead with the soft hazel eyes, attractive features, and tempting shape. Despite his resolve, she provokes a primordial calling he’s long sought to contain. He wants this female, he can’t deny, but he knows giving in to such unabashed urges can lead to disaster, and he refuses to sentence this woman to his own horrid fate.

But just as powerful as Cray’s attraction is his unexpected surge of protectiveness. There’s something about Cassandra’s male friend that needles his suspicion. Graham invokes Cray’s predatory sense of dominance, and that doesn’t bode well. If his instincts are correct, Cray knows Graham is more than he appears and Cassandra’s life is in danger...

***

EXCERPT:

Cray longed to oblige her wish, to fill her insides with his hard rod and stroke them both to oblivion. But his sense of responsibility reined in his rampant hormones. He couldn’t make love to her as he’d like, but there was a way they could both leave satisfied.

Guiding her hand to his crotch, he encouraged her to touch his hardened shaft through his briefs. To his delight, she eagerly obliged. Shifting to her hands and knees, she pushed against his chest, coaxing him onto the blanket.

Stretching out on his back, Cray tucked his hands behind his head and let her take control. There was no hesitation or uncertainty in the way she eased his briefs over his hips, taking care to release his erection before pulling them down his thighs. Slipping them off his feet, she tossed them aside.

Starting at his ankles, she rubbed her hands up his legs, spreading her fingers as wide as she could. Cray closed his eyes, loving the feel of her palms on his skin. Her touch was like fire against his flesh, setting him ablaze with longing.

She stopped briefly to knead his calves, then continued upward. By the time she reached his thighs, Cray’s breaths had become pants. Fearing he might grab her shoulders, toss her onto the blanket, and drive his length into her hot little pussy, he locked his fingers behind his head.

Her fingertips trailed his groin, just grazing his balls. They tightened, pulling up against his shaft. Cray groaned, wondering if this was such a good idea.
When her lips touched his hip, it was all he could do to stay still. “Cassandra…” he breathed with warning, seriously debating his sanity.

She ignored him, grasping the skin between her teeth in a playful nibble. He gasped, his eyes flying open when his stomach muscles clenched in response to her mischievous bite. He never knew he was ticklish there.

She cast him an impish grin before moving on to her next target. As her small hand wrapped around the base of his shaft, Cray held his breath. He watched, his eyes focused on her mouth as she dipped forward.

As though to amplify his torment, she stared back up at him, her hazel eyes unblinking even as her lips closed around the head of his penis. A shudder wracked his frame as the warmth of her mouth enveloped him. Unable to help himself, he tangled his fingers in her hair, part of him wanting to stop her and the other goading her to finish what she’d started.

But Cassandra obviously had no intention of stopping. Gripping him firmly within her palm, she balanced herself with the other hand on the ground and rose up on her knees. Hovering above his groin, she began a slow and methodical process of torment.

****

Shannon Leigh
My Website
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Shannon's Contest

I try to keep things simple. No seek and find, scrolling through a million websites to find one word, etc. I have several signed book covers and I'm willing to part with a few of them if you'll simply post a comment on one of my postings. A little more than "hi" would be nice, but if that's all you can muster then I won't complain. I'll draw two winners tomorrow morning from all the comments. Just be sure to put your email addy on your comments so I can get back with you if you win.

I'll even let you pick which cover you'd like:

Stairway To Heaven
More Than Prophecy
Greenwood Manor
Nana's Little Black Book
Chinatown Buffet

See? That's not too hard.

Shannon Leigh

Goodmorning!

It's hump day! Half way there! Unless like me, you're off this Friday. In which case this is like my Thursday, only on Wednesday. Except I usually end up doing so much running on my Friday's off, that it'd be better to just go to work because by Saturday, I'm pretty much pooped!

Before I launch in to a bunch of posts about moi and my latest writing endeavors, I thought I'd do another poll. I'm going to come up with some different options on what you think is the most important quality in a hero. Granted most of us would like a combination of things, but if you had to choose just one, what would it be?

The poll is located on my blog page on the right. Be sure to cast your vote.

Shannon Leigh

My Blog

Shannon Leigh's Newsletter

It's been quite a while since I've put out a newsletter, but I'm happy to say that I just finished one for April (yes, I realize it's half over!). I try to include things like my latest releases, reviews, excerpts, as well as fun stuff like a joke of the day, and Rune readings. I encourage readers to email me, make comments on my writing, requests, etc.

I also give members special sneak-peaks at what I'm working on, as well as special contests for items such as coffee-mugs, handmade jewelry, autographed book covers, etc. I generally write paranormal romance/erotica, but I've dabbled in contemporary and have recently ventured into the science-fiction realm.

I won't bog down your inbox with numerous emails; I generally keep it to 1 or 2 a month unless something spectacular happens that I just can't wait to share. If your a lover of vampires, werewolves, ghosts, cowboys, guardians, and just about any other far-fetched character that I can come up with, then I invite you to join my newsletter and keep abreast of Shannon Leigh's paranormal world.

Sincerely,

Shannon Leigh

join my Newsletter

EROTIKOS *a not-so-ordinary board game where sexual fantasy becomes reality.*

Cave Creek Cowboy Sheet Cake

(Mostly called Texas Sheet Cake)

Growing up, we had a bull-riding shoot in our arena behind the barn. Horses, and all that entailed, was a lifestyle. And it was a good one.

This is an old family recipe that has traveled to many a rodeo and horse show. It's the recipe my mother always made for my sister, who rodeo’d. My sister was at one time a national ranked barrel racer, who married a bull-rider. When I first met her husband he had a broken leg from a ride gone bad.

My sister died far too young, and on her headstone there's a picture of her riding her favorite barrel horse. And in my first Cave Creek Cowboy story my heroine was a cancer survivor. I gave her the happily-ever-after my sister didn't get.

Cave Creek Cowboy Sheet Cake

This cake can be made from start to finish (out the door to take to the rodeo) in less than a ½ hour.

2 sticks of butter or margarine
5 tablespoons of cocoa
1 cup of water

Put it in a pan over a medium flame if you’re attentive, low if you have a short attention span and let come to a boil while you stir it.

Remove it from the heat and add:

2 cups of flour
2 cups of sugar
½ teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon baking soda

Mix well and beat in:

2 eggs already beaten with a fork
½ cup sour cream or buttermilk

Bake on greased cookie sheet at 375 degrees for 22 minutes.

While the cake is baking…do the icing!

Icing:
Bring to boil and stay right with it stirring, because as soon as it comes to a boil, shut down the heat. I have everything ready and do this about five minutes before the cake is ready to come out of the oven.

(just) bring to boil:

1 stick butter
4-5 tablespoons of cocoa
6 tablespoons of milk

Add:
1 cup chopped nuts
1 box powdered sugar
1-2 teaspoons vanilla

Pour the icing on the cake when it comes out of the oven and get thee to a rodeo!
Yeehaw!

The Positions of Love Book 5 by JM Snyder

Now Available!

The Positions of Love Book 5: Two Dogs Position
by J.M. Snyder

The latest release in my popular superhero series, The Positions of Love, following Vic and Matt!

Buy your copy today!

BLURB:
A classic position: Doggy Style. One of Vic's favorites, it brings out the animal in him. Literally.

Vic finds that out the hard way, when Matt invites a handful of friends over for a party. Vic's heightened senses are reeling from the sights and sounds, and he has to lock himself away in the bathroom for a little alone time just to get his latest superpower under control.

But what he hears in the apartment above puts all thoughts of celebration on hold.

NOTE: may contain sexually explicit scenes of a homoerotic nature.

EXCERPT:
"Matty?" Vic called out as he shrugged out of his thin jacket. Closing the apartment door behind him, he headed for the kitchen, but it was empty. At the sink, he pried the lid off the container of pierogies, plucked one of the potato-filled pastries out with his fingers, and popped it in his mouth. Taking a second pastry, he reached out with his mind to connect to Matt's. ::Where are you at, sexy? I got pierogies.::

His lover's reply came from the bedroom. ::I just got out of the shower.::

::Damn.:: Vic grinned as he chewed. ::I missed that?::

In the bedroom, Matt laughed. ::Sorry, babe. I'm getting dressed now, though, if you want to come watch.::

Vic didn't need to be asked twice. Leaving the rest of the pierogies on the sink, he rinsed his hands and headed for their bedroom. Matt sat on the edge of the bed in his underwear, a T-shirt and jeans laid out beside him. Through the front of his white briefs, Vic could see the outline of his lover's thick cock, curving to one side. The black curls on top of his head still dripped from the shower. Crossing the room to stand before him, Vic touched that damp hair with both hands, delved his fingers into the wet curls, then pressed his face to them to breathe in Matt's clean, soapy scent. "You could've waited for me to get back," he murmured into Matt's hair.

His lover kissed his stomach, a quick peck Vic felt through the thin tank top he wore. Then Matt's arms circled around his waist to hug him close. Pressing his cheek to Vic's belly, Matt pointed out, "I'm still mostly undressed. And I'm hard as a rock, babe. I was thinking about you."

With a laugh, Vic told him, "I see that. You know, our neighbor downstairs isn't home. We should take advantage of this while we can."

"He's out?" When Vic nodded, Matt let out a loud whoop! as he jumped on the bed, and the springs creaked wildly beneath his weight. "We can be as randy as we want. Hell, we can even fuck on the floor ..."

He froze, that image sharp in his mind. Vic almost staggered beneath the sudden emotion that flooded his lover's thoughts. Then Matt's gaze flicked up to meet Vic's and, without saying a word, they both grinned. "Oh God," Matt gushed with a laugh. "The floor. Want to do it doggy style?"

"Is that in my book?" Vic teased.

"If not, it should be." Rising to his feet, Matt yanked his briefs down to the floor and kicked them away. "We can write it in, if we have to."

Buy your copy today!

Orientation--Coming in May

It's always with some trepidation that I open a new cover design from an artist. After all, I have put my baby (to those of you who think in more literal terms, baby=book) into the hands of someone else. That person is going to now take over and put a face on my baby, the face the world will see.

Will that "face" be intriguing? Will it be attractive to the rest of the world, wanting to make them know what's inside? Will the world regard that face with indifference? These are the kinds of things both authors and parents wonder about their "babies'" faces.

So, it was with a lot of delight that when the face of my forthcoming baby was unveiled to me this week. I don't know if you'll agree with me, but the cover for my upcoming May release, Orientation, is a winner. Trace Edward Zaber, an extraordinary cover artist, put the face on Orientation that I could only dream of. He captured the essence of my story without being overly literal and with astonishing grace and depth.

Orientation is the Chicago-set story of a very peculiar love between a gay man and a lesbian. Both are on the end of the Kinsey scale where bright pink letters flash in neon: gay! gay! gay! So, both are unprepared for their sudden and deep feelings for the other. But there are many stranges coincidences, unbidden memories, and dreams that make them think that there is more here than what's on the surface. See, Orientation takes place over the course of three winters: one in the early 1980s, when my gay man watches his lover die to the newly christened disease the world was just beginning to call AIDS; one over twenty years later when my gay man and lesbian meet one fateful night when the gay man interrupts the lesbian's attempt to kill herself, and the last taking place in present-day when things have been resolved, but not the way you might suppose. Is the lesbian, Jess, the reincarnation of Robert's lover who succumbed to AIDS?

That question is one of the two major queries explored in my new book. The other wonders whether love can surpass sexual orientation...can two people whose hard wiring prevents them from being attracted to the opposite sex find love with someone of the wrong gender? Is it possible? Even with reincarnation pinnings underneath?

I think Trace's cover does an admirable job of not telling the whole story, but in giving you some idea of the mood of it: dark, romantic, mysterious. I think his cover makes you want to open the book and see what it's about. And that's what's at the heart of all cover design: putting a face on a book that makes a reader want to say, "I like that face. I want to know more about what's behind it."

I think Trace succeeded. What do you think?

Click here if you want to read the first chapter of Orientation.

Dreaming by Moonlight

Like most authors, I feel out of sorts when I don't write. But we can't write all the time (no matter how much our fans might want us to). So instead, we find other outlets for our creativity, which often spur more writing ideas. It's a wonderful creative cycle.

My outlet is graphics art. Though I can't even draw a proper stick person if you put a pencil in my hand, I can make magic with Photoshop and a graphics tablet. Yesterday afternoon, after writing nearly 3,000 words on my current WIP, I had the urge to put together a fantasy scene. I wanted something dark and whimsical... and this was the result.


(click on the image for a larger version)

After I finished this piece, I took a long look at the end result and realized she needs a story. A couple of folks suggested a merman should sweep out of the sea and come for her. What do you think?

Lacey
http://www.laceysavage.com

Esmerelda's Lovers Garners 4 Stars from Romantic Times

Secrets. Passion. Lies. It's all there in a small town, residing just beneath the surface. Come to Esmerelda and discover what secrets are about to be revealed and how they're going to change the lives of the residents of Esmerelda, Massachusetts.




I love small towns. I grew up in one and I live in one now. Not the same one, by the way. I enjoy writing about them. Esmerelda's Lovers is an erotic romance anthology with all of the stories centering around the residents of the fictional small town of Esmerelda, Massachusetts.

Janean Sparks, a reviewer for RT BOOKcub Reviews gives Esmerelda's Lovers four stars and has this to say about this erotic anthology:

Dane gives us four wonderful tales of love and romance. The characters are real and captivating, and there are plenty of spicy scenes that will have your mouth watering. You will get so wrapped up in each of these stories that everything else will just fade away.

Find the review in the May 2008 issue of Romantic Times BOOKreviews or by visiting the Romantic Times website.

A little about Esmerelda's Lovers.

Esmerelda, a small, sleepy town with passion as its foundation. It is a community built on tradition, holding deep, secrets and painful memories for some. Lives intertwine as usually happens in a small town. But as the past explodes into the present, the futures of these lovers will alter forever.

Esmerelda's Secret. A 2004 Amber Heat Wave Contest Winner John William (J.W.) Dalton and Willow MacKenzie had once been passionate lovers, two halves of one soul, torn apart by greed and misunderstanding. Now, ten years later, J.W. is sheriff and Willow has returned to Esmerelda to finally lay to rest the tormenting ghosts that continue to haunt her.

5 Stars! ...Ms. Dane has written a hot, hot short story...Her words make every touch and breath blazing... -- Julie, Just Erotic Romance Reviews

Smooth Finish. Back in high school Cody Marx and Jared Creed had been attracted to each other. But when Jared's father died and his half-brother, Kenny, got into trouble, they drifted apart. Years later, a remodeling project draws them together once again. This is one revitalization Cody can't wait to begin.

4 Angels!! Smooth Finish is a great book that has everything you need for a great bedtime story. There is plenty of sexual tension, adventure, and mystery. ... Author Adrianna Dane always creates such appealing books that it makes me eager to immerse myself in her worlds again and again... --Tammy, Fallen Angel Reviews

Ruthless Acts. Elizabeth Anthony, a hot-house flower, the pampered daughter of a powerful man. Isandro Santario, a secretive ex-con with a powerful desire for revenge. One from hell, the other from heaven. Can they discover paradise together? Or will they both end up burning in the smoky depths of purgatory?

5 Lips!! Adrianna Dane has penned an erotic and emotionally intense story that draws you in immediately and doesn't let go until the very last page. ... Ruthless Acts is a definite must-read that'll engage your senses and leave you breathless for more... --Kerin, TwoLips Reviews

Closing Time. Risking her reputation, Evelyn travels to Boston for a little taboo excitement. From the hot encounter behind the stage with the sexy guitar player, to a steamy confrontation in the back room of the Esmerelda library, Evie must face her fears and risk everything for a chance at love.

4 Hearts!! ...Closing Time is a story about taking risks. ... Ms. Dane really touched this reviewer with this plot ... Closing Time is also about sex! Ms. Dane creates some steamy scenes that will leave you breathless and craving more. ... --Tina, Love Romances and More


Read excerpts from each of these stories at my website

Listen to first chapter excerpts in podcast format at Podomatic.com.

Purchase Esmerelda's Lovers online at amazon.com.


Adrianna

SUPERNATURAL? PARANORMAL?

In response to my post of April 4th, AQP author Melissa Bradley raises a great point when she responds that she finds so many categories confusing and references the also confusing fine lines between different musical forms. She asks when did paranormal take over supernatural?

Supernatural. That's a terrific word, isn't it? Conjures up all kinds of spooky things. But as to when paranormal took it over, I have no idea!

Publishers and review sites choose what they'll use. Romance Junkies Reviews put my fantasy into their Paranormal/Sci Fi category because they don't have one for fantasy. Amber Quill Heat lists Paranormal with subgenres of Ghosts and Psychic Phenomenon. In checking my Oxford Pocket American Thesaurus of Current English, here's the definition for supernatural: on page 735.

"adj. 1 supernatural beings, otherworldly, unearthly, spectral, ghostly, pantom, magical, mystic, unreal. 2 supernatural powers, paranormal, supernormal, hypernormal, psychic, miraculous extraordinary, uncanny."

It's true we might say, "She's a woman of supernatural beauty." You'd never hear "She's a woman of paranormal beauty."

I guess Melissa and I have no clearcut answer to her question. Perhaps someone else does.

Carolina Valdez

Now available - WOMAN IN BLACK LACE

Where passions unlock the sweet ecstasies of love

LADY IN A BOX by Brit Blaise

What’s it about?

The story is set in Regency England and relvolves around a lady, Lady Catharine, whose evil husband has just expired while in the throes of connubial bliss.

Lady Catharine’s little journal not only contains her most secret thoughts, she’s rendered them into presise drawings.

When confronted by four masked men who have possession of her artwork and a vengeful agenda, she gets the opportunity to live out her favorite rendering…Lady in a Box.

Her day started out trapped under the obese naked body of her dead husband, and ended within the box of four hard male bodies.

Arden Harcourt and his friends have a mission…make his uncle, Lord Harcourt pay for his many sins against them. What better way than to give his uncles’s wife what she wants. With Arden’s uncle bound and gagged in his masked costume, the four of them use the man’s wife in a sexual encounter more risqué than any of them have ever experienced. And while Arden believes he’s torturing a man he dispises, the woman casts a spell on him instead.

Will he ever be the same?

What is she doing inside the box of four male bodies?

Teehee...

♥♥♥♥♥

Brit Blaise

Brit Blaise Myspace

Cover Art by Trace Edward Zaber

SLAYERS INC. by Brit Blaise

I finally picked up the Romantic Times review in the May RT magazine.


Slayers Inc.
Brit Blaise

4 Stars!
Woohoo! (My words, not theirs)


"Blaise will blow you away with her dynamite book.

Heroine Jenna will have you pumped and ready to kick some vampire butt! There’s plenty of action throughout the story, which will get your adrenaline rushing and generate enough heat to make you turn on your air conditioner."


SUMMARY: Jenna Bradley is a newly made vampire, out to kill the bloodsucking monster who made her and killed her best friend. Bent on revenge, she’s determined that no one stands in her way, not even Cooper, the great slayer of Slayers Inc., who has his own reasons for going after the monsters."

Cover Art by Trace Edward Zaber

Brit Blaise

The Butterscotch Martini Girls

Brit Blaise at Myspace

Red Lining

When I lived in Chicago, I used to be a very frequent, often daily, rider of the sprawling beast known as the El (or the “L”; there’s always been a controversy). The trains and various lines shuttled people from all walks of life all over the city.

For a writer, the proximity of the varied and often teeming masses of humanity combined with the rapidly shifting views was inspiring.

For a horny young gay man, the views on the train were often lust-inducing. When you get that many people crowded into a small space like an el train car, your odds are good that there will be at least a couple who are pleasing to the eye (and regions further south). Often, I not only found someone who was pleasing to my eye, but someone who had reciprocal feelings toward me. We would do a mating dance with our eyes and maybe, a small smile meant just for the other. Then we would go our separate ways. These I called sixty second love affairs.

And then, me being me, my fantasies could travel to darker areas (darker even than the subway tunnels into which the red and blue lines plunged). These fantasies are what inspired me to write “Riding the El at Midnight,” a very dark, twisted, and perverse story about two strangers on a train. The fun thing about my story (if you, like me, think murder, sexual obsession and eerie mayhem are "fun"), and the mating dance of these two handsome and hungry males, is that we never know, really, who is the one with the darker intent. You have to read to the story’s surprising conclusion to find that out. You sort of have to ride the train to the end of the line…

But as I said, my thoughts and fantasies weren’t always so dark. Sometimes, they were achingly sweet…like in the sixty second love affair below.

The writer sits alone on the train, thinking how the stops between North and Clybourn and Fullerton will bring him from darkness into light: a metaphor for heaven. There’s a book open on his lap, something by Henry James or James Joyce, who knows? The obtuse words and their connections evoke little response when his blood flow is heading southward. Sometimes he thinks about a quote applied to Errol Flynn and how God gave him a brain and a penis and only enough blood to run them one at a time.

You get the picture. He’s sitting in the last car of the northbound train, because there’s always been this vague rumor that the last car is the one to board if you’re gay and want to cruise. He’s never seen much evidence of this, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t worth giving it a whirl.
And then the book below him blurs even more as the artist boards the train and sits across from him. How does he know he’s an artist? Even though the evidence is circumstantial, it’s pretty convincing: he carries a battered black leather portfolio; his faded jeans are spattered fetchingly with paint in various hues. The other accoutrements: shaved head, oval rimless glasses and an expression of being elsewhere also contribute to this portrait of the artist as a young man. Wouldn’t it be lovely to think that maybe he has boarded this last car for the same reasons as the writer?

And then their eyes meet and all doubt is erased. Gay men, like straight ones, may have scores of lines designed to charm and seduce, but nothing beats the language of the eyes for communicating desire. Forget the smile. There is something in this liquid connection that transcends gestures as pedestrian as words and body language. The eyes have it. The artist’s are pale blue, behind the glass, and his stare, held for a few seconds longer than what’s appropriate for a stranger’s glance, says everything the writer needs to know.

When the train reaches Belmont, the artist gives one more meaningful glance and the writer rises to follow, clutching his James Joyce in front of his loose-fitting jeans. There is a moment when the writer wonders if he is doing the right thing, but when they get off the train, his doubts vanish like an ethereal wisp of smoke. A smile confirms what he’s known all along and the artist’s question of having some time to come by seals the deal.

They walk to the artist’s apartment, a studio above a store on Clark Street. They’re naked in an instant, clothes falling to the floor in a frenzy. Bodies mesh. Lips connect. It’s an old story, and hungry as you are for it, dear reader, the writer leaves the rest to your imagination. Think sinew, skin, muscle and bone connecting, orifices explored, juices released. As the writer says, it’s an old story.

After, you, dear reader, may wonder what his name was. How the hell should the writer know? That would spoil the reality of the writer’s fantasy.

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IS YOUR STORY A PARANORMAL?

Paranormal simply means "outside of normal."

If your story has anything outside of normal in it, then it fits under the big umbrella of Paranormal. Because many things fit under there, we give some themes their own category: Science Fiction, Futuristic, Horror, Time Travel and Fantasy are a few.

Science Fiction may deal with the possibilities or extension of an actual scientific premise, but it's still fiction that falls outside the norm. Futuristic deals with a world or worlds that don't exist today, and although some pseudo-science and travel in time may be involved, the future world idea puts it in its own category.

Fantasy is a paranormal, but we designate it as Fantasy when it involves a magical world and, in some manner, the magical arts and a mythical creature or two such as unicorns, fairies, elves, wizards, witches, dragons, gnomes, leprechauns, goblins, trolls or whatever. You get the idea.

I'm not as familiar with the Horror subgenre, but if any part of the story introduces something beyond normal, it's a Paranormal.

Amber Quill could list PORTAL TO DARKNESS and WOMAN IN BLACK LACE as Paranormal, but Time Travel has its own special niche for obvious reasons. Too, since some readers may prefer certain types of stories, a publisher may break the books down into subcategories to aid them in their purchases.

At least this is my take on it.

Carolina Valdez - Where passion unlocks the sweet ecstasies of love

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WOMAN IN BLACK LACE - Excerpt

Alex had spent the day visiting his tenants, dressed in his finest plaid and regalia, and accompanied by some of his fighting men. It’d been a tiring business, for they’d ridden far, but it was the duty of every laird to visit his people, and he’d enjoyed spending time with his men. It was also the occasion to collect the rents, some of it in coin, some in produce or stock.

For him, the fatigue created by smiling as he spoke with each family and listened to their concerns ranked up there close to having been in battle. Or evading the Watch. He’d done that for a year, after having assumed the last name of his maternal uncle and living in his uncle’s castle for two years, well hidden by friends and family.

When the Watch had discovered who and where he was, he’d fled, hiding in the caves and dense woods of the Highlands for more than a year. He hadn’t even been able to attend his beloved father’s funeral. It had been a lonely, bitter time.

Only three months past had he dared return to Balmarbroch and use his own name. There was still a price on his head, and as soon as the Watch figured out he was here, he’d have to become a fugitive again until he lost them or they tired of searching. In his absence, Hamish and his men had seen to the land. They would again if necessary.

His bath finished, he dried off and wrapped his body in a clean plaid. He wolfed down the hot food and drained the tankard. While he ate, servants drained his tub and carried it away.

He was standing near the hearth, one arm braced against the stones above, letting the heat from the flames warm him and soothe his fatigue, when a woman spoke.

“Hello.” Her voice was as soft and liquid as molten gold.

Startled, he whirled, his body tense.

She was leaning against the closed door, a door he could have sworn hadn’t opened or closed since the departure of the servants who’d carried the tub away. Light from the fire and candles bathed her slender form, lending it an ethereal grace and creating soft, flickering shadows on her face.

He’d never seen a gown such as she wore—all fine, black lace and so snug it displayed every shapely curve. His eyebrows rose at the sight of it. The skirt flared above slender ankles, and diamonds sparkled and danced on little straps wound about her feet. She smiled as if she knew him, and he watched a dimple form in one of her cheeks. He couldn’t believe how lovely she was. His breath got trapped in his throat, and his dick wakened as if from a long sleep.

Where had she come from? What was she doing in his rooms?

Was she an expensive English whore Hamish had procured to welcome him home? No, that wasn’t done in these parts and, of a certainty, never for him. Perhaps she was a selkie, risen from the loch and taken earth-born form. If so, and if someone had hidden her selkie skin, she’d entice him to love her, even bear him sons and daughters, until she found it. Then she’d wrap herself in it, change into her true form and disappear into the sea. He would be left a grieving, heart-stricken man, lonelier even than he was now.

He didn’t believe in selkies, but since she’d appeared by some mysterious means beyond his ken, the thought she might be a witch, which he somewhat believed in, created havoc in his chest. However, it didn’t a dampen the sensations roiling his randy cock.

Thank heavens, his response to her was hidden under the loose plaid covering his naked body. Witch or not, he waited without speaking. She fascinated him.

Still smiling as if they were acquainted, she dropped her dark cloak, a feathered mask and a small purse on the chest. Then she walked toward him—steps slow and deliberate, hips swaying, diamonds winking. As she drew closer, he could see her eyes were as green as the crystals dangling from her ears.

He took in a deep breath. Despite not believing in selkies, relief swept through him that her eyes were not dark brown like theirs were reported to be. Her hair was brown, but streaked with gold, as if lightened by sunlight. A selkie’s head would have been almost black.

He’d never seen hair cut as hers was—soft waves framing her face and touching her shoulders. Her skin was like a white dove’s against her black lace gown.

Desire flared molten and deep in his gut. He fought the sudden urge to crush her to his chest and carry her to the floor so he could penetrate her silken secrets and plunge his way into her. Control yerself, duine.

Some sanity returned when he reminded himself she was a stranger, and mayhap even a witch. As she drew closer, wariness would’ve caused him to step back if he hadn’t been in front of the stone hearth. There was no way to inch around her to get to his pistols or dirk...

Carolina Valdez - Where passions unlock the sweet ecstasies of love

REVIEWS - WOMAN IN BLACK LACE

Quick, before I leave for the doctor, here are two reviews.

5 Hearts! Very Sensual! "Carolina Valdez has written a great story. It is well written, with wonderful characters. Anyone who loves a good time-travel will love this one. I adored Phebe, and her sexy Highlander is to die for. The passion that burned between them is scorching and their journey kept me on the edge of my seat hoping for their happily ever after. This is a definite keeper." Sandra review, The Romance Studio.


5 Hearts! "Carolina Valdez has penned an extraordinary erotic tale of time travel mixed with love and very sexy Scotsmen who wear nothing under their kilts! A keeper." Crystal review, Book Reviews by Crystal

Actually, I kinda liked this book myself.

Carolina Valdez

WOMAN IN BLACK LACE

Available 4/6 from Amber Heat

Good morning! And congratulations, Lyndi, for hitting one of the coveted Amber Allure Top Ten spots.

Now to my upcoming release - Woman in Black Lace. It's the second extended novella in my time travel series. For reasons unknown, it occurred to me that Phebe Jones, Diana's friend in Portal to Darkness, needed her own story. You'll meet Diana and Lance once again in this one.

Blurb:

Seduction is what book store clerk Phebe Jones has in mind as she dresses in erotic black lace and a feathered mask for a masquerade ball in Washington, D.C. Weary of her dull life, she’s determined to seduce the first masked party goer who makes her clit throb and her panties dampen. Still, she hesitates when the hunk she’s selected—a blond dressed in a kilt and wearing blue face paint reminiscent of Braveheart—invites her to his room after the festivities. Does she really have the courage for sex with a stranger?

Reminding herself this is what she’d planned, she steps across the threshold into the arms of a plaid wrapped blond the size of the Scorpion King. In the searing heat of his arousing touch, it’s difficult to tell which of them is the seducer. His scent and the feel of his body inflame her senses. He invades her heart as easily as his hard, silken cock invades her pulsing cunt.

But the dark just before dawn brings the greatest shock of Phebe’s life. Her world rocks as she wonders who this man she’s slept with is. Where is she and what year is it? Panic floods her as she grapples with the greatest challenge of her life—figuring out how to return to 2008, when she has no idea how she left it for the past...

I have to get ready for a medical appointment now, so I'll post an excerpt and reviews later. Have a great morning!

Carolina Valdez

Woman in Black Lace
Portal to Darkness
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Where passion unlocks the sweet ecstasies of love

Excerpt from Alliance: Clandestine Desire

Here's the blurb and an excerpt from Alliance: Clandestine Desire, which went on sale this month at Amber Allure.

Blurb:

A secret mission....

When Behrin agrees to undertake an undercover mission, he is promised a command of his own in the Ziganese fleet. The fulfillment of his lifelong dream is finally in sight. Then he meets his Mhajavi counterpart and finds he has another dream, too.

An unexpected love..

The last thing Tai expects to find on this mission is a Ziganese officer who stirs his desires. But he’s always had a thing for big, strong men, and he falls hard for Behrin.

A heart-wrenching choice...

Behrin knows a lot is riding on this mission, not only their lives, but the future safety of their respective worlds. Will they survive, only to be torn apart forever?

Excerpt:

After eating, Behrin again squeezed his bulk into Tai’s car and they sped off into the night. Tai turned off the air conditioning and lowered the windows, allowing the balmy evening breeze to blow into the vehicle. “What a pleasant evening. Your climate reminds me very much of my home on Algott. Except we were further inland, not so close to the ocean.”

“Do you miss your home?”

“Not really. My parents are gone now, and my brothers and sisters are married with families of their own. The Borivoy has been my home for the last five years.” Until today.

“Where you happy on the ship?”

Behrin sighed. “It was a great vessel to serve on under Captain Rulik. I was his second-in-command and trusted him implicitly.”

“You said was. I take it things have changed.”

“Yes, Captain Cheslav has a different command style.” And an obvious prejudice against anyone from Algott. It had been humiliating to be snubbed by an upstart ten years his junior. He grinned to himself, wondering how Cheslav would fare without an experienced second officer to see to the smooth running of the ship. If there were any justice, he’d fall flat on his face.

Behrin stared out the side window. They were traveling parallel to the shore. He opened the window to let in the balmy air. Moonlight glinted on white caps as the waves rolled toward shore. It was beautiful, but not as stirring as the vast reaches of space. “I’ve been promised a ship of my own if our mission is successful.”

“If that is what you want, then I hope you get it,” Tai said.

“Thank you. I believe you mean that.”

Tai turned to him, and even in the dim light, Behrin could see his surprised expression. “Why would I not wish the best for you?”

“No reason. Forget I said that.”

Tai pulled the car into a small parking lot beside the water and turned off the engine. “I keep forgetting that you are a minority on your world. You have not always been fairly treated, have you?”

Behrin shrugged. “I’m overdue for promotion, that’s all. Unlike Captain Rulik, and many other officers, I don’t have aristocratic connections.”

“So you must work harder and longer than everyone else.”

Behrin turned to Tai and nearly melted at the tender look on the other man’s face. He fought the urge to pull Tai to him and kiss those full lips. “What doesn’t kill me, makes me stronger. Is this where you live?”

“Yes.”

Tai got out of the car and Behrin followed suit, grabbing his bag from the back seat. He followed Tai along a narrow wooden walkway to a medium-sized boat. The name Lehar was painted on the stern. Others docked nearby appeared to be luxury yachts, but there were a few others similar to Tai’s.

“You live over the water?” Behrin asked in surprise.

Tai grinned as he stepped onto the boat. “Yes. Land is at a premium in Mahdesh City. I spend so little time here, I decided to live on my boat instead. Besides, it’s cooler on the water.” He unlocked the door to the cabin and led Behrin down a short flight of stairs.

The main cabin had a sitting area at one end and a small galley at the other. A door off the galley led to the sleeping area. “You can have the bed. I’ll sleep on the sofa.”

“That sofa isn’t long enough even for you,” Behrin objected. He eyed the large bed, picturing Tai lying nude across it, a come hither look on his face. “It looks plenty big enough for two.”

At Tai’s raised eyebrow, Behrin added, “Don’t worry, I won’t ravish you in your sleep.”

“Would you like to?”

~~~~~~~~~~~

c. 2008 Lyndi Lamont

Lyndi Lamont: News and Reviews

Hi all,

I was really jazzed to learn that my latest release, Alliance: Clandestine Desire, hit #8 on the March Amber Allure Best Seller list. I'll post an excerpt in a few minutes.

Also, I have two new reviews to share with you.

4 Angels..."Love...By the Book is a scintillating mix of lust and sexual exploration. Lydia’s character has the typical ideals of the time period. Marriage is for convenience not for passion or love, no matter what she truly longs for on the inside. Evan is sexy, yet his character has a wonderfully tender side. Evan wants to learn to make Lydia enjoy marriage as much as he intends to. He shows her just how hot marriage can be. The two characters are white hot together. The sexual scenes are scorching. Ms. Lamont has done a very nice job of bringing a bit of the exotic into her writing. I look forward to reading more." - Dawnie, Fallen Angel Reviews

"4 Hearts... "Rulik and Shayan are both strong, alpha male characters. The increasing tension between them, from the first meeting to the satisfying culmination, made this book one that was almost too hot to handle. A homoerotic relationship with a threesome included makes this one a real sensual delight. The sensual scenes were done with a deft hand and only enhanced the plot and the importance of the alliance between these two peoples. Written in such a way that the emotions driving the two characters strongly came through, the author heightened the sexual tension with her beautiful descriptions of their relations. The contrast between the uptight Ziganese and the more sexually free Mhajavi further clarified the difficulties Rulik and Shayan faced. This is my first book by Lyndi Lamont and the great start to what promises to be an enjoyable series. The fast pace and exciting plot with a surprise twist and a cliff hanger ending will leave the reader begging for more." - Hayley, The Romance Studio

I know reviews don't necessarily influence sales, but I still get jazzed when a good one comes in. Do you read reviews to decide what to buy?

Lyndi