I'm Being Interviewed!

I'm being interviewed on Saturday January 29th at http://xakara.livejournal.com/

Stop by and say hello!

What I liked best about having Breast Cancer

This letter was written by my sister-in-law, Noreen Harder Print who is battling Breast Cancer. I found it and her to be very inspirational and wanted to pass along her bravery in the face of adversity along with a reminder to have regular mammograms and do regular self-breast examinations.

The photo is of Noreen and her family after she ran a half-marathon, shorly after finishing Chemotherapy treatments!

What I Liked Best About Having Breast Cancer . . . . .

Smaller boobs – I had a lumpectomy, which basically means that my Dr. cut a big chunk out of my breast so as to have “clean margins.” How my other breast ended up the same size as the surgically reduced one is anyone’s guess, but personally? I suspect it shrank in fear. Anyway, I am loving my new look.

Baldness – Ok, don’t get me wrong. Before my hair fell out? I was a mess. But once it began falling out, I was cool with it. And I will be forever grateful to my friends Letty and Amelia who just happened to be available when the time came and were brave enough to help me shave it off. It turns out that I had a really nice-shaped head under all of that hair, and I looked so good that I decided I would not be putting it under wraps, choosing to go au natural instead. Did I mention how much I loved being bald? For those of you who’ve never experienced it, IT FEELS GREAT! And I learned a HUGE lesson that basically boils down to this: It’s not about the hair. It’s not about how I look. It’s about how I feel. And quite frankly, I feel wonderful.

Being Popular – (Oh yeah! Popular again after 30 years, what can I say?) I received boatloads of cards, presents, phone calls, and even became a regular feature on my writer friend’s blog (http://paulita-ponderings.blogspot.com/). After I ran the Columbus ½ Marathon in October, my Mom called my hometown newspaper, and they wrote a story about me. At the chemo lounge, and various other medical outposts, I was continually being pampered by medical professionals (would you like some ice chips to go with that toxic red chemical that we are pumping in your veins?). And let’s face it, when you are a woman, and you are walking around bald, everyone is gawking at you (and I mean everyone). Like I said – popular.

Breezing Through Treatments – What began as a nightmare, became a pretty damn amazing experience. I think I must be an anomaly. I know that I am one of the luckiest people on the face of the earth, that’s for sure. Here’s why . . . I was able to run 3 days after my surgery (ok, so I did have to carry my breast like a football and did have a drain tube attached to my chest cavity, but still). I never once became sick or fatigued by 16 rounds of chemo or the 34 daily radiation treatments that followed. In fact, if anything, I felt better and had more energy. I was able to keep up with my active family, running, graduate school, and even went back to work in August after a 4 year sabbatical.

Playing the Cancer Card – Admittedly, I never became very good at it. I tried to get MacKenzie to go out for the rowing team (didn’t work), to get the kids to help me around the house (rarely worked), and to motivate my students at Northland High School (worked momentarily or not at all). I almost used it to get a close-up handicapped parking space at a marching band competition once, but didn’t think about using the cancer card until it was too late. I did, however, use it to order last minute homecoming flowers while I was at chemotherapy once (success!). My coworkers have advised me to wear black when I am dealing with particularly difficult parents at school “to look more washed-out and cancer-riddled,” but I don’t believe this is very effective either. What can I say?

Updates and Coming Events

You can also get updates and coming events for me at http://www.theromancereviews.com/Rhonda

I'm on Bringing in the New Year with Coffeetime Romance

I'm on Coffeetime Romance and More today! http://www.coffeetimeromance.com/board/showthread.php?p=138336#post138336

Stop on by, I'm asking What do you like to see in a romance novel, and what you don't.

Let me know and find out how you can win a FREE COPY OF NIGHTWALKER, A LEAH WOLFE SINS NOVEL!

Guest Author Mima and Bound Among the Stars

Congratulations on your book! Why don’t you tell us a little about it.

Bound Among the Stars began as an invite from another author. She wanted to do fairy tales in space. I am bonkers about fairy tales, so I signed up. I don’t remember why I chose Rumpelstiltskin. It’s always been interesting because of the wicked little gnome, but the miller’s daughter marrying the bully of a king never made any sense to me. This was my chance to fix that. The spinning of the gold became a sex drug, the gnome became a noble hottie, and the heroine knew better than to care anything at all about the king or his gold.

Where can your readers reach you? I just revamped my website actually!

http://www.mimawithin.com

Is there one particular thing that you find challenging about writing?

Words. A mental mind meld would be so much easier!
Do you have any tips for new writers? Nope. There’s too many ways to enjoy this roadtrip, to succeed at this business, and to grow as a writer.

What are you reading now?

At this moment I have four books on my nightstand, but the one I touched last is Gaiman’s Odd and the Frost Giant, a middle grade novel.

Are your characters a reflection on you or anyone you know?

Some of my heroes have chunks of my guy, and some of my heroines are much more like me, particularly Vivienne. But none of them are autobiographical. I just use real snippets to round them out.

Are any of your personal experiences reflected in your writing?

It’s a huge compliment when reviewers note that such and such a plot must surely be autobiographical because I wrote so movingly about it. I have no experience with disability, motherhood, violence, or dependency. Nor large black marble dildos, psychic menages, or mermen, sadly.

What is your favorite thing about writing?

Wonder. The weird pride and fear and surprise of typing The End.

If you were a supernatural creature, what would you like to be and why?

A shapeshifter would be awesome. But I think it should be like Pullman’s world of daemons or Rowling’s patronus manifestation, where the beast is out of your control and a true reflection of your personality. I’d love to do more totem spirit work and try to discover that for myself.

Do you have a favorite character from one of you own books? Who and Why?

My most recent Bonded, Rogue Within, features a balls-to-the-wall bad boy. Donte’s totally messed up and not really conflicted about it. I’m so into him. Fictionally, of course.

Do you find love scenes difficult to write?

No. Not at all. That’s part of the escape package for me. I used to blush about the kink that showed up, but I’m pretty much accepting this is what I enjoy writing now. Well, sometimes I’m still a little perplexed by the dark stuff.

Do your characters talk to you?

No.

Who controls the storyline, you or your characters?

It used to be a discovery. As time goes on, I’m becoming more of a plotter, in part because of my dedication to making sure I don’t write the same sort of book twice. I’m very conscious of using different plot types, so I step in and try to control it more. But the magic comes when I’m in a flow. When I have at least one character with this incredible conflict and the story is just rolling out of me in time with the typing, it’s so awesome. I’ll reread the scene and have no idea how I came up with those images.

Do you have an excerpt you’d like to share?

Here’s one from my scifi fairytale short titled “Bitter Gold” appearing in the dual story anthology Bound Among the Stars with Jennifer Leeland.

Liese paced around the cream-colored mat that sat before the machine. There were robotics and grids against the wall, and then the pulsing web of light projected out from that in a circle. The mat was on the floor before it, but in between the mat and the circle sat three boxes. They were transparent, chair-height, and side by side so they almost formed a bench. Inside each was a fat pile of pale, straw-like sticks, poking every-which-way. Flax, waiting to be spun into gilt. Such innocent looking stuff that became such an intensely addictive substance.
More out of bored curiosity than anything, she jabbed at the mat with her toe. The machine hummed with a whir, green lights winking and flashing in different shades. Liese leaped back with a cry, stopping only when she was plastered against the cold gray wall. She stared at it hard, chest thrusting with the force of her horror at activating it.
The door slid open. She spun to face it with a squeak. Almost, she didn’t recognize him. He stood in the sumptuous hall, and the red light on his dark brown skin and mussed black hair made him look like he was painted in flames. Her schwarz had never looked more compelling. His eyes pinned her tight where she stood, hands flattened on the slick metal next to her hips.
He stepped into the room and the door zipped closed. His gaze went to the machine, then to the three boxes of flax. “I heard the cheer go up when they got the notice you’d approached the wheel.”
She swallowed. “You ... you knew I was here?”
“I was there when Miller gave you up last night, and Konig commanded Uther to bring you in.”
She blinked at him, her eyes fluttering from the sharp pinch of pain her breastbone. He’d known. He hadn’t stopped it, hadn’t ended this. “Can you get me out?”
“No.”
The word was final. Clenching her jaw, she stared at the floor. This couldn’t be happening. “So this room is monitored?”
“The alfen have a no-monitoring policy. Generally, any pleasure they’d derive from recordings is less than the danger of their recordings being used against them.” He waved one hand at the wheel. “But they are watching the read-outs of this. They’ll know when you begin to use it and they’ll know when you’ve finished making the gilt.”
Liese looked at the machine, the light-wheel, the clear boxes and the white mat. “I’m not going to.”
The silence in the room was thick, and for the first time, uncomfortable between them.
“Liese. You must.” The words seemed torn from him, gritty.
She shook her head. “No.”
“Liese.”
“They sent you, didn’t they? To convince me.” She glared at him, standing all muscled and hairy in that shockingly lewd black webbing.
It was his turn to shake his head. “They don’t know I’m here.”
She raised one brow, angry at him. “How are you evading your programming?”
He rubbed at the gold disc emerging from the slab of muscle on his chest. “I’m allowed to seek women in the final hours of the night after they’ve all fed.”
Liese was surprised. “It’s after hours?” She wouldn’t touch the bit about the women. He was worse than Miller.
“It’s two hundred on the day after you were taken.”
Her face crumpled in dismay. She couldn’t control the way her chin wobbled. “There’s been no search? No missing person call?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. I only go out on shopping day. Certainly, there’s been no search for you here, nor will there be. Konig has the station master well in hand. If there were any sympathetic witnesses, they’ll have been paid off and threatened by now.”
Liese slid down the wall, wrapping her arms tight over her chest. “I can’t believe this is happening.”
“It’s best if you get past that denial quickly. I can tell you that the sooner you start negotiating the situation to your benefit, the better off you’ll be.” He sounded tired.
She wouldn’t look at him. “I won’t do this thing. I’m not going to waste my life creating a drug, only to then be enslaved by it. It won’t be a good death, but--”
“But what? Death before dishonor? Don’t be an idiot. Are you saying you don’t respect me for surviving as a slave instead of killing myself outright?” He moved closer to her.
She closed her eyes. “You have a chance of escape, Stillskin. Gilt can’t infect you. But if they make me an addict, I’m already dead. It’s just a matter of time.”
He paced to the wall by the supplies they’d left. He turned and paced back to the wall she slumped against. Then he pivoted and went across the room again. She stole one quick look at the way the straps encircled his immense neck, crossed his muscled back, and skimmed his tight, flexing ass. Yup, it was just as lovely as she’d imagined beneath his nice suit. He punched the wall, a hard, dull thump.
She winced. “What are you doing here?”
He flung himself around and she dropped her gaze from his furious one, then blushed and averted her eyes from the way the webbing framed and lifted his genitals. “I’ve been a mess ever since I heard that puling sack Miller drop your name last night. Don’t you know I’ve done nothing but try to work out how to stop this, how to save you?”
She felt guilty. She should have known. Her gaze crept back to his sparking black depths. He was a good man in a horrible situation. She’d known it since she’d met him, and should have known it tonight. “There isn’t a way out?”
He thrust both hands into his hair. “No.” He held her gaze, his desolate and stunned. “No.”
She dropped her head back against the wall, her stomach churning, despite its empty state.
“Liese. Make the gilt. Maybe, somehow, I can rig some interruption, some delay in your tattooing. Until it’s done, there’s hope.”
She gave a sad smile. “But once we fail, and they’ve inked me with the stuff, you wouldn’t be able to kill me, would you? I’d be part of the addicts you’re bound to serve. And I’ll have lost the will to do it myself.”
“Don’t assume failure! Assume escape!” He came over to her, close enough she felt his warmth from a half meter away. Even his feet were interesting to her, toes, arches, bony ankles and all.
“It’s almost funny. How yesterday...”
“There’s nothing funny here.” He sounded frustrated. “Focus on the issue, Liese. You waste precious time and resources on denial.”
She shrugged, chafing her upper arms. “I’m not in denial, really. I think I’m still pretty shocked, but I made my decision. It’s just so strange, how yesterday I warned you about a strange delivery. And it was probably this flax stuff.”
“Flax is a fiber with properties of transference. Basically this spinning process makes a pleasure drug.”
Liese snorted. “A psychic plant. What if I kill myself on that mat? Will it transfer hate and rage from then on too?”
He knelt by her so fast, she gasped. “The wheel has been set to feed only on sexual release, but you should be thankful the process is so psychic. Otherwise, it would be a simple matter of drugging and raping you into release.”
She shivered, curling her toes tighter. She sat with her legs tucked to one side. Resting her head on the wall, it was surreal to study him here in the soft white light of the wheel. “To think they chose me because I stayed away from the shit.”
He swallowed. In a hushed, rusty voice he said, “Liese.”
She held her breath. “Stillskin.”
“You’re my friend. Don’t give up. What if you’re able to escape later, and find a cure for the addiction? Swallow your pride. Survive, as long as you can. Hope.”
Bitter warmth swelled her throat. She blinked fast and hard to hold back burning tears. “You’re so sweet.”

CONTEST:

Anyone who leaves a comment on my blog http://mimawithin.blogspot.com by 2/1 gets registered to win a free book from my backlist.

I'm Being Interviewed!

Author Sherri Desbois takes time from her busy schedule to interview me on Wednesday January 26th. Make sure you take a look at the pics the put with the prologue to Nightwalker! AMAZING!
Stop by and say hi!

http://sherridesbois.blogspot.com/?zx=edec53ce74520651

Shelley Munro and A Discreet Affair

Congratulations on your book! Why don’t you tell us a little about it?

Thank you, Rhonda and thanks for having me to visit. My latest release is A Discreet Affair. It’s a World War II romance, set in Biggin Hill, which is near London.

I find this era fascinating, especially the daily lives of the men and women who stayed at home and kept the home front ticking over. They faced many hardships such as rationing and losing family members who were fighting overseas and, during the summer of 1940, the enemy commenced nightly bombings. Sleep was in very short supply and the people faced danger each night but they kept going. A Discreet Affair also deals with the fighter pilots who attempted to keep the enemy at bay, facing great danger and stress on a daily basis.

Here’s the blurb:

Summer, 1940. Britain is at war, and her brave fighter pilots attempt to keep the enemy at bay.

The last thing Pamela Allison wants is another man, especially one like her brutal, now deceased husband. Her managing mother wants her to live with her in London, but Pamela accepts a job from her aunt, working in the family store in the village near Biggin Hill.

Enter Michael Stedman, a Spitfire pilot based at the Biggin Hill airbase. Depressed and a little drunk after the death of his friend, he doesn’t expect to meet a beautiful woman during a night out at the local pub. He’s not looking for anything permanent since a pilot’s life is fraught with danger. All he wants is a little feminine company to take his mind off the war.

London is under siege by the enemy. Bombs drop every night and the danger increases for everyone. Michael and Pamela’s relationship changes and they become lovers. They are happy with their secret liaison until gossip and the past intrude and threaten to destroy everything, including her good reputation.

A Discreet Affair is due out on 17 January from Liquid Silver Books. http://www.liquidsilverbooks.com

WIN a copy of Discreet Affair by commenting on this blog. One winner will be chosen.
Good Luck!

Do you work on one project at a time or multiples?

I tend to have more than one project on the go but usually focus on one. For example at present I’m working on a paranormal shifter story. I’m completing my word count each day on this story and, if I finish early or feel like working longer, I might swap to another work in progress. If I get stuck I’ll typically swap to another project while I mull over my problems with the first story.

Is there one particular thing that you find challenging about writing?

LOL – yes! Actually sitting at my computer and writing is hard. There are some days when even the housework seems more interesting than writing. I have to be strict with myself and make sure I write a minimum number of words each day. In my case that’s 2000 words each day. This is a good pace for me—one that I can sustain without burning out.

What is your favorite thing about writing?

My favorite thing about writing is being my own boss. After years of working at an office job I enjoy setting my own pace and goals. I like knowing if I make mistakes, it’s my problem. I also like getting paid for making things up and using my imagination. When I say I’m away with the fairies, I’m most likely telling the truth!

Who controls the storyline, you or your characters?

Definitely the characters. I’m not much of a plotter. I start a story knowing my characters and their inner conflicts. My characters take it from there. I might have a vague idea where I want to go or how I want to end the story, but generally my characters end up directing. They’re a bossy lot, too!

Where can your readers reach you?

I have a website at http://www.shelleymunro.com and I blog most days at http://www.shelleymunro.com/blog
I also have a Twitter account http://www.twitter.com/shelleymunro and a Facebook account http://www.facebook.com/shelleymunro

Romance Novel Material

I received this email from a neighbor today and it was sooo funny that I wanted to share it. I don't know who wrote it or I would happily give them the credit. So, whoever you are, wherever you are, Thanks for the laugh today!

UPDATE:

Author L.K. Below enlightened me. This awesome piece was written by Ginger Simpson and for more of her work check out her blog at http://mizging.blogspot.com/

Romance Novel Material

He Grasped me firmly but gently just above my elbow and guided me into a room, his room. Then he quietly shut the door and we were alone.

He approached me soundlessly, from behind, and spoke in a low, reassuring voice close to my ear. "Just relax."

Without warning, he reached down and I felt his strong, calloused hands start at my ankles, gently probing, and moving upward along my calves slowly but steadily. My breath caught in my throat. I knew I should be afraid, but somehow I didn't care. His touch was so experienced, so sure.

When his hands moved up onto my thighs, I gave a slight shudder, and partly closed my eyes. My pulse was pounding. I felt his knowing fingers caress my abdomen, my ribcage.. And then, as he cupped my firm, full breasts in his hands, I inhaled sharply. Probing, searching, knowing what he wanted, he brought his hands to my shoulders, slid them down my tingling spine and into my panties.

Although I knew nothing about this man, I felt oddly trusting and expectant. This is a man, I thought. A man used to taking charge. A man not used to taking "No" for an answer. A man who would tell me what he wanted. A man who would look into my soul and say ... "Okay Mam," said a voice, "All done."

My eyes snapped open and he was standing in front of me, smiling, holding out my purse. "You can board your flight now."

Guest Author LK Below and Unveiling His Princess

Congratulations on you book! Why don’t you tell us a little about it.

Here’s the blurb for Unveiling His Princess:

When Natalia’s horrid stepsister locks her in a closet, steals her identity, and sets out to marry Prince Bennett in her place, Natalia nearly gives up hope. Luckily, she has a fairy godmother willing to guide her steps. Dressed in nothing but a mouse-skin pelt and assured that Bennett will recognize her even though they’ve never met, she sets out for his palace.
Prince Bennett knows that he must marry his princess, but when he meets her, something seems amiss. He cannot reconcile the lively, veiled beauty he consorts with at night with the waspish princess he meets during the day. And to make matters worse, he can barely fight off his attraction to a fur-clad scullery maid. Whatever will he do?

Read an excerpt or purchase the book at www.liquidsilverbooks.com/books/unveilinghisprincess.htm.


What draws you to write your genre and sub genre?

I write a bunch of different genres. I currently have a paranormal romance short story (His Familiar Touch) in the Paramourtal anthology, my newest is a historical romance with a fairytale twist, and I have a bunch of contemporary romance releases lined up for 2011. I also write fantasy and young adult -- the latter under my full name, Lindsay Below.

In short, I am drawn to many genres. I love stories that sweep me away to new places, eras, and worlds. So that’s what I endeavor to write. If through reading one of my books, you find your escape, I’ve done my job well.


Where can your readers reach you?

My website is www.lbelow.net and my blog (on which I post almost daily) can be found at http://lbelow.blogspot.com. I’m also an avid Tweeter. You can find me on Twitter at http://twitter.com/LBelowtheauthor. Or, if you’re just looking to send me an email, send it to lbelow(at)lbelow(dot)net.


Are you working on another book?

Always. I write obsessively, just about every spare moment I have. My computer is riddled with works-in-progress, which I work diligently to complete. At the moment, I’m slowly working on a full-length sequel to Unveiling His Princess, which I’ve titled Almost His Princess.


Do you work on one project at a time or mulitples?

Unfortunately, multiples. I’d like to be able to stick with only one project until it’s finished, but I often find myself broadsided by new ideas that need to come out. This means that shorter works, like novellas, tend to be finished quickly whereas I usually break for other works when working on a novel. Someday, I hope to finish them all.


Do you use more than one pen name? Why?

I have two pen names. L. K. Below is the name for my adult works -- my romance and adult fantasy. Whereas my young adult works are grouped under my full name, Lindsay Below.


What is your favorite thing about writing?

I am in no way a plotter, therefore writing a book, for me, is as much about being swept away in the story as the characters. I have little to no idea what is coming until I write it. Often I have a vague idea of coming scenes, but those ideas are easily swept away as I continue on.

How many books have you written? How many have been published?

Having dedicated myself to writing all through high school, I have countless books on the side that are in dire need of some trimming to get them ready to be published.

As it stands, I have 10 books coming out in 2011 so far. Now I’m working on writing and editing some for 2012. I was busy in 2010 and I hope to make this as productive a year!

How long does it usually take you to write a book?

Provided I’m not hit with any new ideas and that I don’t get stuck in a writer’s block, I can and have written a full-length novel in a week. More likely, it’ll take two weeks to a month -- or a week for a novella.

Who controls the storyline, you or your characters?

Oh, certainly my characters. It wouldn’t be nearly as much fun for me any other way 

Thanks for having me, Rhonda!

Guest Author Sherri Desbois

Congratulations on you book! Why don’t you tell us a little about it.

Thank you so much Rhonda for allowing me to write on your blog. It’s my first interview ever. So I’m totally stoked. I feel like a celebrity.

Half Hearts is a story about three very broken people who have suffered neglect, abuse or heartache and trying to find love. It’s a steamy ménage a trois but it’s also about overcoming huge obstacles of pain to get to the pleasure.

Where were you when you got your first book contract? Who did you tell?

I was sitting out next to the pool reading on my ipod when I got an email alert. I nearly fell in the pool and I’m sure my neighbors all heard my screams.  I told my husband first.

Do you have any tips for new writers?

Ha Ha Ha…I have no clue what I’m doing so I hope someone is willing to give me some tips. Actually I think the best thing you can do is seek out other authors in your genre and ask questions. I have found that most are so giving and so willing to offer advice.

What is your guilty pleasure?

I plead the fifth on the grounds that I may incriminate myself. (And my Mom will probably read this post)

Where can your readers reach you?

At my homepage: http://www.sherridesbois.com/
On my blog: http://sherridesbois.blogspot.com/Or they can e-mail me at: sherridesbois@comcast.net
Oh and they can find me on facebook too 

Are you working on another book?

I am. I have two books in the works actually. One is about seventy percent done; the other is done but not quite ready to submit it. I’ll need to work up my nerve for that. I’m one of those people who read it over and over and still worry it’s not done. But hopefully I will get over my OCD and send it out soon.

Do you have an excerpt you’d like to share?

I do this is a scene from chapter one. Needless to say…Trevor is kind of pissed 

Excerpt from Half Hearts


“You no good rotten prick!” He shoved Kegan’s body against the bar a second time before the man could react. Kegan’s eyes grew wide with shock and the two little blonde bunnies yelped and jumped back in surprise.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Kegan tried to remove the fists from his shirt, but Trevor had no intention to let go and he slammed Kegan against the bar again.
“I can’t fuckin’ believe you.” He jerked his head in the women’s direction. “Were you planning on fucking these two behind my back too?”
“What the hell are you talking about? What the fuck has gotten into you?”
“Don’t! Don’t even try your innocent bullshit on me. I just had the most amazing woman run from me like a scared colt because of something you did to her, and then I find you in here looking for your next conquest.” Trevor pulled at Kegan’s shirt again intending to slam him into the bar once more, but Kegan reached out, ripped the hands from his shirt and grabbed onto Trevor’s wrists. The two little bar flies looked from Trevor to Kegan and back again, then scurried away.
Trevor heard one of them say, “Told you all the good ones were either married or gay.”
Any other time he would have snatched them back and proceeded to show them just what his preferences were, but right now, he was just too pissed off to care what they thought.
“Trevor, I don’t know what the hell has gotten into you, but I suggest we take this outside. I don’t think Jack is gonna appreciate us upsetting his customers when we start bitch slapping each other.”
“Fuck you! You know what, it doesn’t fucking matter what you do. I’m outta here. You’re on your own. Maybe one can watch over you while you fuck the other.” Trevor spun around, wrenched his wrists from Kegan’s grip and stormed to the exit.
He punched open the door and kicked it closed behind him. He was so furious, he was shaking. He knew he was being unfair and should have let Kegan explain, especially after he’d seen the true confusion on his face. But he was still too pissed off about losing Charlie and how it felt to have Kegan rub it in his face by letting someone else stroke their hands all over him.
He leaned back against the brick wall, took deep long breaths and tried to get himself under control. He really felt like banging his fool head against the brick and knock out all the confusing images and thoughts. As soon as he closed his eyes, images of Kegan’s powerful body wrapped around Charlie tormented him and he snapped them open again.
Shit, shit, shit!
He couldn’t stand the thought of them together without him and his chest tightened further.
The bar door slammed open. Before Trevor could even blink, Kegan was standing directly in front of him, their noses nearly touching,
“Trev, you’ve got some explaining to do. What the hell’s gotten into you tonight?”
Trevor leaned his head back and refused to meet Kegan’s gaze. “Go away, I told you I’ve got nothing else to say to you.”
“Oh hell no you don’t! You don’t get to grab onto me, knock me around, insult me and accuse me of all kinds of shit then tell me to go away.”
Trevor’s head snapped and he pinned Kegan with a hard look. “Fine! What the hell did you do to Charlie?”
Kegan blinked slowly as if trying to process something his brain couldn’t quite grab on to. “Who the fuck is Charlie?”
“Don’t play stupid with me, Kegan. I met the most incredible woman I’ve ever seen and get her to agree to meet with us, but the instant she lays eyes on you, she runs like she’s seen a ghost.” Trevor ran his hand over the back of his neck to ease some of the tension. “Ah hell, Kegan, what the hell did you do?”
Kegan stepped back away from Trevor to lean against the wall next to him.
“I’m telling you that I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. I can promise you, though. I have not fucked anyone without you since I was eighteen. You know I can’t. I have only met one girl named...”
Trevor felt Kegan’s body go rigid next to him and heard his sharp intake of breath. Every ounce of color had drained from Kegan’s face and his fists clenched so tight, his knuckles were white.
“Trev, describe Charlie.” he whispered, his tone so low, Trevor nearly didn’t hear him.
“Hell, Kegan, she was the most amazing woman I’ve ever seen.” Trevor could feel some of the anger drain from his body, only to be replaced by pure need as he closed his eyes and started to describe Charlie.
“She has straight, dark chestnut hair all the way down to the top of her ass. It’s like silk in my hands and smelled of amber.” Trevor’s body stirred and his erection pushed painfully against the zipper of his jeans as he remembered the feel and smell of Charlie.
“She was taller than most girls I’ve known, probably around five-nine, hell maybe even five-ten. She had the tiniest waist. I swear I could have spanned it with one hand. Her breasts were perfect. Not too big and not too small, ya know what I mean? I’m telling you, she had the most sensual body I’ve ever seen or been lucky enough to touch.”
He was so wrapped up in his own thoughts of Charlie, he absently reached down and palmed his throbbing cock, before he remembered he wasn’t alone. He discreetly tried to adjust himself to get a little more room in his jeans. An image of Charlie as she rubbed her tight body against him flashed in his mind and he had to stifle a moan.
A low raspy growl next to him brought him back from his thoughts. “Trev, God dammit describe her face.”
“Well...I don’t know how to describe her other than perfect. It’s hard to describe her look. I mean she had this perfectly fuckable body and this sweet, innocent looking face. The thing that blew me away most though was her eyes! They are brilliant green eyes and fucking took my breath away!” He reached up to touch the spot right below his right eye. “And has a tiny little birthmark right here that looks almost like a tear.”
Kegan slumped against the wall and slid down, ass-planted it on the ground. His breath left him in a rush shook so hard, it scared the hell out of Trevor.
“What the hell?” Trevor kneeled down next to Kegan. “Damn you look like shit! You okay?”
Kegan slowly looked up at Trevor, his eyes wild and took a couple of deep breaths before he responded. “Trev, remember when I told you about the one thing I missed from my life before I met you?”
Kegan dropped his forearms onto his bent knees, leaned his forehead on them.
“You just met her.”


You can buy Half Hearts HERE!

How did you come up with the title?

I came up with the title after I wrote the prologue. You know that saying …He/She stole my heart. Well when a heart is broken it’s still left beating in your chest but it’s no longer whole. Half Hearts seemed to be the best description for all three of my characters.

Do you use more than one pen name? Why?

This is a great question. I have mentioned to a lot of people that when I sat down to write this book I had no idea of what I was doing. It was a challenge to myself. I never dreamed in a million years it would get published. Being naïve I sent it in under my real name and never even thought to use a pen name. I’ve since read some great article and wish now that I would have used one. But nope Sherri Desbois is in fact my real name. I think that if I could give one piece of advice for someone writing their first book I would tell them to use a pen name.

Do you have a favorite character from one of you own books? Who and Why?

My favorite would have to be Kegan. He’s so abused and so unsure of himself. I just want to wrap him in a hug and protect him from the world. When I was doing edits I bawled like a baby for Kegan. His flash back to when he was a little boy was an extremely difficult scene to write.


Do you find love scenes difficult to write?

Writing the love scenes are my favorite. Though, I have found that they are the most uncomfortable as well. It seems that my children or my husband get sixth senses about when I’m writing a love scene or a hot sex scene and come seek me out. You see where the uncomfortable part comes in.

Are any of your personal experiences reflected in your writing?
Quite a few actually. Charlie’s fear of flying is mine. In fact how she prepares for a flight is exactly what I do. Her past reaction to flying, embarrassingly actually happened to me.


Do you characters talk to you?

All the time though sometimes it can get a little hectic. I’ll be working on a story and a character from another story will bug the shit out of me until I give them my attention. I keep little notebooks with me at all times to jot down what the voices in my head are screaming at me. It’s either that or go completely insane and end up with a new jacket and a very nice padded room.

Who controls the storyline, you or your characters?

Most certainly the characters control the story line. It’s funny when I sat down and started writing Half Hearts I thought I knew how the story would end. My characters surprised me and ended it the way they wanted too instead of the other way around.


Rhonda, thank you so much for all your great questions. I’m truly honored that you allowed me to do this. My first interview. YAY!

Nightwalker is available at Barnes&Noble Fictionwise

Along with Liquid Silver Books and Amazon, Nightwalker is now available at Fictionwise, a Barnes and Noble company.
The Buy Link is HERE!

Ghosts of Christmas Past by Xakara

Today we welcome Xakara on the blog who is also offering one of her backlists to one lucky commentor on this blog today. Let's get started.

Congratulations on your book! Why don’t you tell us a little about it?

Ghost of Christmas Past is a paranormal polyamory romance. It’s the story of PsiCorps Agent Torrin St. James who is wounded in the line of duty and left in a four year coma. He wakes to find out that everyone thought he was dead and the life he remembers is gone. Rather than a traditional boy-meets-girl, (or in this case, boy-meets-boy-meets-boy-meets-girl), it’s a friends-turned-lovers and lovers reunited romance.

Where were you when you got your first book contract? Who did you tell?

I was in my living room on my laptop reading the contract offer email. I’d gotten an initial email two weeks earlier letting me know my story had been passed on to someone else and to hold tight for a response. Despite the good vibe from it, I was on pins and needles until that official offer came.

The first person I told was my husband-like-person.

What draws you to write your genre and sub genre?

I write Erotic Paranormal Ménage, so there’s a lot going on there. Starting with paranormal, I can’t help but look at a scene and think there’s something hidden and otherworldly going on beneath the surface. I’ve always loved the paranormal and grew up with science fiction, fantasy and horror books, movies and television as a staple in my home. Stephen King was my introduction into horror and I love him to this day, but I didn’t feel it was right that being non-human automatically made a character a monster. That belief led to an instant love of Urban Fantasy and Paranormal Romance.

On the erotic side of things, I got into that by default. I write bisexual characters in polyamorous relationships and feature open-door sex. It’s detailed but not explicit, but the bisexual element automatically defines the romance or urban fantasy as erotic by current standards. I used to hesitate to say I wrote erotic because I didn’t want to disappoint, but I’ve come to accept that there’s more room in the erotic cart than it appears and my brand of love-scene works well within it.

I write ménage because it’s my own little part of being a poly activist. I want to show that love is bigger than the standard boy-meets-girl we’re raised to believe. I present loving, polyamorous relationships because they exist and sometimes the hero or heroine doesn’t have to choose.

Do you have any tips for new writers?

Accept that you don’t know what you’re doing and take in every bit of advice and instruction that you can. Attend conferences and conventions if you can afford it. Take workshops and build your library of technique books, (or wear out your library card doing your research), and don’t feel you’re too good to do writing exercises. If you remain willing to learn you’ll find there is a world of resources and mentorships waiting for you.

Research, research, research! Learn everything you can about the agents, editors and publishers you want to submit your manuscript to down the line. There are safeguard sites out there to help you make informed choices. Preditors and Editors is a great place to check and Absolute Write allows you to ask as many questions as you need to and get varied feedback.

What is your guilty pleasure?

I don’t have any guilty pleasures. I fully revel in all the things I love. The closest thing I think others would classify as a guilty pleasure is my adoration of Supernatural fanvids *grin*.

Where can your readers reach you?

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/#!/xakara
Twitter: https://twitter.com/#!/Xakara
Blog: http://xakara.livejournal.com/
Email: Xakara@Xakara.com
Website: http://xakara.com/

Are you working on another book?

I have two more PsiCorps novellas in the works. There are two Therian World novellas and a Therian World novel that follow up my first publication SHIFTING PASSIONS and I’m working on book one of the Angelic Prophecies.

Do you have an excerpt you’d like to share?

Torrin paced around him, defiant. Quintus reached out and took Torrin’s hand. “I’ve treaded as close to the line for you as I could and still do my job to keep you safe. No one’s had it easy, Torrin, but at least we can all get through it if you’d just sit down.”

Torrin looked down to where they touched. His large, dark olive hand made Quintus’s smaller, pale one look delicate. It was hard to make someone five feet eleven inches, one hundred and ninety pounds look fragile but at nearly six and a half feet and a slimmed two hundred and twenty pounds Torrin managed it. He let his thumb stroke the milky skin along Quintus’s thumb. His long-term memory was fuzzy, but of what he had he could count the number of times his Handler had touched him with bare skin outside of a medical emergency. This would be the eighth instance in twelve years Torrin could recall. Empaths in general didn’t like skin contact with people outside their Triads ... especially other Empaths.

Quintus stared at their hands as well, as if he couldn’t quite make sense of it. The silence grew. Thirty seconds, sixty, ninety seconds and then Quintus looked up at Torrin. Sky-blue eyes had gone glacial-white, and Torrin shivered beneath the Gaze. Sincerity and the echo of old grief moved up his arm from where they touched, while Torrin’s anxiety and loss moved down.

“I’m sorry, Quintus. I owe you everything, including the chance to be here and be an ass. I’ll sit down.”

Quintus blinked and only clear blue skies stared out at Torrin once more. “Thank you, Agent St. James. You have my sympathy. I could not imagine how this was for you. I wish I could make it easier.”

Their hands fell away from one another--a near autonomous motion that made them separate beings again. Torrin sat down and pulled the paperwork toward him. The hard copies became a blur as they moved from point to point in Quintus’s ever-methodical manner.

“How long?” Torrin gave no qualifier or context. He didn’t need to.

“The first six years. Until it was quite clear you could not see beyond Riley and Sky. There was no room for me and so I ceased looking for it. Being your Handler became enough, Agent St. James.”

Quintus never looked up. He passed another datapad for Torrin’s thumbprint and continued on with their task. Torrin wanted to push. How do you not push when you realize someone used to be in love with you? How do you leave it alone when in the touch of a hand your glorified babysitter becomes a well of lost potential?

The first day at PsiCorps, Torrin had imprinted onto Riley and Sky like a hatchling to movement. Each had dominated their psychic categories, setting records in CyberPsi and Psychometry that still held in the Corp more than a decade later. He’d been so dazzled and swept up in their skill and confidence that Torrin had never wondered about his choice. He had never considered what would have happened if he’d just sat at a different table for breakfast that first day; just one table over in the empty seat beside Quintus.

“This is the last set.”

Torrin nodded and took the papers and datapad. Quintus read off the pertinent points aloud, and Torrin took stock of the other man. Quintus’s hair fell in thick, raven waves that captured the light and threw back blue highlights. Skin, merely pale before, shone alabaster in contrast, clear and smooth; trapped in a youth that would not begin to wane for several decades more ... if then. Matte black lashes fringed midday blue eyes that sat large in his face, not quite balanced out by a strong nose and full mouth.

The curve of his neck, strong but almost slender; the set of his shoulders, masculine but streamlined, the body muscled but lean; men like Quintus danced the line between pretty and handsome. A rounding of the jaw, a certain set of the eyes, a half inch there and a quarter turn here, and Quintus had come down firmly on the side of pretty with handsome close enough to lean over and lay its head on his shoulder.

He’d noticed Quintus’s beauty before, on more than one occasion. But now his mind fought to put it in the context of a different choice, a life unlived.

“Will you require another Handler, Agent St. James?”

Torrin blinked. “What?”

“You’re staring, trapped in a thought cycle. There is a great deal on your plate right now and you have no time for what ifs. Do you require another Handler to get through the last of the trial or shall we move past this?”

Torrin nodded. “We’re past it. I’m fine.” He looked down at the papers and started going through clauses and signing agreements. Had he ever touched Quintus intimately before they became Handler and agent? He seemed to remember touching his face while they were shielded. Had that happened? The holes and blurs in his long-term memory gaped in mocking, but Torrin could almost feel the smooth skin glide beneath his hand like silk and cream, leaving the imagination open to what the rest would feel like.

“Agent St. James!”

Torrin looked up and fought to focus. He’d begun to trance unintentionally.

“Did I project?”

“Yes.”

Well, damn. Torrin rubbed his face and laid his forehead on the table. The cool wood calmed his thoughts. The scent brought to mind home and safety. He and Sky had bought a table similar to this one ... similar. Sky and Quintus shared a similar pale beauty, though Sky’s was darker, richer, aged ivory rather than new snow. But it had looked stark against the grain of the wood as they christened the new table. Would Quintus be even more striking against the mahogany? Would his cries sound as intimate and soul-searing off the unfamiliar walls of the safe room? Black hair spilling--raven feathers on wood--the way Sky’s had fanned like rubies tossed in the sun. No, in the snow, rubies in the snow, the two of them naked against the wood.

“Agent St. James!”

How did you come up with the title?

As a Christmas/Winter Holiday story, I wanted a title that immediately let you know what you were in for while tying directly into Torrin’s mindset. Being thought dead and knowing everyone has gone on without him, Torrin feels like a ghost and a piece of their past come back to haunt them. It was just a perfect fit.

Do you work on one project at a time or multiple?

I like the opportunity to work on one project all the way through, but I don’t often get that luxury. I write what comes to mind and since literally everything can inspire me, I end up with endless excerpts I have to take time to write up before they’re lost. I’ll claim both. When I get on a roll I can follow all the way to the end before something else distracts me, but there are definitely times before that roll where I’m pulled into other projects.

Is there one particular thing that you find challenging about writing?
Proper time management is the most challenging thing. I can get a lot done when everything is perfectly smooth sailing, but I rarely get smooth seas so things are often disrupted.

Who is your favorite author?

Stephen King.

What are you reading now?

I just finished The Lost Symbol by Dan Brown yesterday.

Are your characters a reflection on you or anyone you know?

I plead the fifth.

Do you use more than one pen name? Why?

Right now I only use Xakara. I would consider taking a new pen name if, overcome by fever, I suddenly wanted to write non-paranormal contemporary or historical.

What do you do to get in the mood to write?

Reading is the surest way for me to get in the mood for writing.

What is your favorite thing about writing?

I think more than anything, I like sharing the finished story and larger world with others.

If you were a supernatural creature, what would you like to be and why?

My first answer takes too much explanation so I’ll go with my second and say vampire. But I’m very particular about the type of vampire I’d want to be so my Maker would have to talk a very good game and deliver well. I can’t explain the allure of vampires because for me it happened well before there was a sexual component. I think as a child they seemed so sad that I wanted to be one to keep them company. As I got older it was a love of the idea of seeing the future and having the power not to be withered by the passing of the ages.

How long have you been a writer?

Are we only counting getting paid? In that case for two years; otherwise I started writing when I was nine.

How many books have you written? How many have been published?

I’ve written five, two are published, two are pending.

Do you have a favorite character from one of you own books? Who and Why?

I fell in love with Quintus from the new book Ghost of Christmas Past. There’s a vulnerability in him that just did me in. Of course I loved the entire cast on that point, but let’s not digress.

Over all I think Dante from BloodSprite is my favorite character. I love her willingness to sacrifice and extend herself for her beloveds despite having little faith she’ll be any good at being what’s needed. She also has this wonderful openness with everything about herself and those she loves and it’s something I hope to grow into as I mature.

What is the easiest and hardest thing about writing?

The hardest thing is sitting down to write. I have sleep issues and it makes getting to that moment of focus difficult. Fortunately, once I’ve got a pen in hand or my fingers on the keyboard, something is going to come out no matter how exhausted or unfocused I feel.

The easiest thing is coming up with ideas. In fact it’s harder to get my thoughts to stop flowing rather than to get going with plot concepts.

Do you find love scenes difficult to write?

It can get tricky when dealing with multiple participants and figuring out who put what where; but love scenes themselves are easy for me. Is that scandalous?

Are any of your personal experiences reflected in your writing?

I don’t think it’s possible not to have some personal experiences seep into the writing. Since I write paranormal however, none of the stories are actually autobiographical…or are they?

How long does it usually take you to write a book?

There isn’t an average time for me yet. With enough caffeine and indulgence of my insomnia, I can do a 30k novel/la in a week. That said I’ve struggled with a 12K novella for months. It’s all about how fast the idea is flowing and how much time I can carve out to nurture the flow.

Do you set timelines when you’re writing or write when the feeling hits you?

I write when the mood strikes or when I can’t put it off any longer; whichever comes first.

Do you characters talk to you?

All day, every day, without any regard for courtesy.

Who controls the storyline, you or your characters?

I plead the 5th.

What is your writing day like once you start a book?

I don’t have a set time for writing or a set number of pages I look for in a day. I write until I don’t know what comes next or until I’ve given myself a headache staring at a computer screen for several hours. After I sign off I keep a notebook handy for excerpts of upcoming scenes which usually leads me to whatever comes next when I write the following day.

Do you promo your backlists when you’re writing a new book, or dedicate your time solely to writing?

I have a backlist of one at this point so it’s not taking a lot away from new writing. Ask me again after I’m on release four and writing book five.

How many books do you write in a year?

As many as I can.

Guest Author Denise Agnew-For a Roman's Heart

Congratulations on your book! Why don’t you tell us a little about For A Roman’s Heart.

For A Roman’s Heart is set in 167 AD Roman Britain, in an area of England I actually lived in for three years. The hero is a Roman Centurion and the heroine a weaver who is the daughter of exceptionally cruel parents. Despite this, she’s a strong character. She still has flaws and insecurities, and I think that’s one of the things I liked showing about her. She’s got guts, but at the same time she’s learned things from childhood that she must “unlearn.” The hero is on the trail of a deserter, and the deserter is one nasty character. This book doesn’t pull a lot of punches and it’s very gritty. But it’s also very sexy and romantic. I love bringing the reader in touch with the history, too.

Is this part of a series? If so, how many books are in the series so far?

This book isn’t in a series.

Where were you when you got your first book contract? Who did you tell?
I was living in England at the time and I told my husband first. 

What genre do you write?

I write in almost every genre of romance there is, with the exception of inspirational. I also haven’t written urban fantasy.

Do you publish in both print and e-book? What are the advantages?

I haven’t published any books through a traditional NY publishing house. I’m with Samhain Publishing, Ellora’s Cave, and Liquid Silver Publishing. Samhain and Ellora’s Cave do have some of my books available in trade paperback. As far as advantages between small press/electronic and traditional publishing, it depends on whom you talk to as to advantages and disadvantages. I think the most obvious is that with traditional publishers your distribution channel has the potential to be much larger. With small press the advantage for me is being able to write several genres within romance, plus writing more stories out of the box. With the popularity of ebook readers increasing all the time, I see the problem with distribution narrowing somewhat.

Do you have any tips for new writers?

Learn everything you can, but at some point you’ll have to make decisions that come from the heart. What books do you want to write, and do you want to write for yourself first? To be true to yourself you’ll have to sit down and make a list of what it is you’re trying to accomplish and not let either people tell you what your goals should be. And I mean no one else. This is all about you. In the end, if you aren’t happy writing what you’re writing and who you’re writing it for, then think about writing something that you can get behind and that has meaning to you.

Where can your readers reach you?

I’m on Facebook an Twitter, but the best place is www.deniseagnew.com

Are you working on another book?

Absolutely. I’m actually working on more than one at a time. LOL.

Do you have an excerpt you’d like to share?

Sure! Here’s the blurb and a short excerpt for FOR A ROMAN’S HEART which releases January 4, 2011 at Samhain Publishing www.samhainpublishing.com
His scarred soul knows no vulnerability—except her touch.

Trapped between cruel parents and the need to hide her gift of second sight from suspicious villagers, Adrenia Tertia Brigomalla walks a line as thin as the threads she weaves. The need for independence burns fierce in her heart, but not as hot as her unexpected attraction to a Roman soldier who comes to the village in search of a deserter.

Though hardened by war, Centurion Terentius Marius Atellus defies any man to harm an innocent. Nothing shakes his relentless determination to track down a murderous legionnaire with a taste for young women. Yet Adrenia’s spirit and vulnerability spark a protective instinct stronger than duty…and temptation that could be his downfall.

Fragile trust built on stolen kisses and a premonition saves his life and drives his offer of the ultimate protection—marriage. While she revels in the feral passion he awakens within her, Adrenia would sooner brave the fires of Hades than trade one yoke for another.

It’s a decision that could leave them both dangling above a precipice they may not survive…

**
Adrenia’s lips parted, her breathing coming faster as she took in the men before her. Part of her wanted to step back, to run. She didn’t know these strangers, and anything could happen. Yet something about the centurion, an honor and integrity in his expression, told her she had nothing to fear. The other hulking man looked a bit larger than the centurion, and his dark eyes held amusement. She didn’t think he meant any harm. His closely cropped almost-black hair was straight and his face angular and long. He looked decidedly awkward, but she had a feeling he could be deadly given the chance. Some woman might consider him a bit more handsome than ordinary.
While she felt ambivalent about the optio, the centurion was a different story. Her belly fluttered as she took in the centurion’s rugged face. He looked rough and more than capable of killing mercilessly. A tremble wracked her body, and she hoped he couldn’t sense the fear she held so tightly within.
His thick dark brown hair, cut fairly short, held mahogany highlights. It curled against his head. Though his jaw looked strong, it wasn’t too wide, his mouth firm but not thin. His regal nose gave him a patrician air, but didn’t stand out boldly enough to make it too large. More than all these facial qualities, she noticed the powerful concentration within his green eyes. Dark brows sheltered his gaze and thick lashes fanned downward when he blinked.
Neither the centurion nor the optio dressed in formal battle wear. They didn’t wear helmets or mail armor. They wore white tunics, their gladius hung from a wide belt, their socks and closed-toe boots indicated they worked for the army. Their red cloaks also gave them away. The centurion’s gaze pinpointed her so intently a flush heated her cheeks.
She jerked to full awareness. They must think her an imbecile, she’d remained silent for so long.
“We’re assigned to the fort,” the optio said. “Are you from the village?”
She shook her head and gestured to one of the long, rectangular houses separated from the villa complex. “My father is a tenant on villa land.”
“Who is the villa owner?” the centurion asked.
“Decimus Caelius Cordus. You have come far,” she said. “You may be welcome at the villa if you require food and drink.”
“We’ll visit them another time,” the centurion said. “What is your name?”
His military brisk question demanded an answer. “Adrenia Tertia Brigomalla.”
She wiped her hand over her forehead as weariness weakened her resolve. Though the day wasn’t hot, her long walk to the neighbors and through the Haunted Woods had taken more from her than she first realized. She swayed, and she closed her eyes with one thought. Goddess, don’t let me faint now.
“Easy there.” The centurion alighted from his horse in a heartbeat. “Are you all right?”
She opened her eyes just as he clasped her shoulders. On the horse he’d looked large, but now he towered over her. He appeared as tall as Sulla, around five foot ten or eleven if she guessed right. Unlike Sulla’s rangy frame, this man possessed wide shoulders and powerful arms that reminded her of shelter, of safety. Automatically her hands landed on his chest, and the rock-hard strength of his muscles under her hands rippled as he moved.
Embarrassed, she drew her hands back and dared gaze into his extraordinary eyes. She expected to see pity there, but instead genuine concern warmed them. His unexpected caring threw her off kilter. She almost couldn’t speak. “I’m fine. I forgot to bring water with me on my long walk.”
He released her and went to his saddle and pack. He returned with a water skein. He handed it to her. “Drink.”
“But you need it.”
“Not as much as you. Drink as much as you like.”
She took one tentative sip, and when the liquid touched her lips, she realized how thirsty she’d become. She drank more, but stopped short of gulping. She wiped her mouth with the back of her wrist and returned the skein to him. “Thank you. You are most generous, sir.”
“Terentius.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Call me Terentius.”
“I…”
“You’re thinking you shouldn’t. That it isn’t expected or right.” His gaze twinkled.
“Yes.”
“He hates it when people call him sir,” the optio said. “Take my word for it.”
She laughed, the sound slipping through her throat and out of her mouth before she could stop it. She pressed her hand to her mouth, half expecting his wrath to come down upon her. She never laughed.
She should never laugh.
Fear rose up like steam from a cauldron. Her breath grew short, her palms beginning to sweat. When he didn’t strike her and his smile grew wider, astonishment fought with intellectual reasoning. Of course he wouldn’t strike her. He didn’t know her. She fought with her fear, but it wouldn’t cease.
He frowned deeply. “You’re trembling. You are ill.”
She shook her head vigorously. “No. That’s not… I’m not ill.” The centurion unhooked his cloak and with one efficient move swirled the garment over shoulders and fastened it together with the large broach. The red wool cloak encompassed her in a musky man-and-leather scent both comforting and disturbing. “Sir, I can’t take this. It is improper.”
“You will take it.” The centurion frowned down at her, his hands arranging the wool so that it covered her entire body and almost came all the way to her ankles. “I can get another.”
His long arms rippled with muscle, and she stared too long at all his masculine beauty. She widened her eyes, and cleared her throat. “It’s unheard of. I couldn’t wear a soldier’s cloak.”
“You may insist on calling me sir, but I won’t relent about this. My mother and father taught me that women are to be cherished and protected.”
What could she say to that? Surprise held her immobile and almost voiceless at first. “I…I never heard such a thing.”
The optio’s thick brows arched upward. “Who are your people?”
She drew herself up to her full height. “Our people descend from the Iceni and the Catuvellauni.”
“Barbarians.” The optio nodded. “Of course.”
She didn’t know whether to feel insulted or not, so she stayed silent.
After a long agonizing moment where the centurion’s stare speculated, he asked, “Why do you hide your laugh?”
“It’s not proper for me to express it.”
He frowned. “What foolishness is this?” He looked back at the optio. “Have you ever heard such a ridiculous thing?”
“Strangest I’ve heard,” the optio said. “Seems like we’re talking a different language all together.”
“You don’t know my…” she started to say, then shook her head.
“Who?”
“Please, centurion. Leave it be. It is not your…business.”
He chuckled, and the sound came out rich and deep. It sent new pinwheels of heat through her loins. How could a man this dangerous inspire such confidence inside her? When he smiled, the whole world lit up. His green eyes sparkled. His straight white teeth and the dimple in his right cheek surprised her.
Then his gaze sobered, and she saw it. The look many a man gave many a woman, but had never been bestowed upon Adrenia in all her twenty years. His gaze traveled over her breasts, then slid down the rest of her body as if he could see through the thick cloak and shapeless tunica. The centurion’s undeniable interest found an echo inside her. She, too, wanted to trace his body with her gaze, to explore him as she’d never explored another man. Frightened by the intensity, she took three steps away from his powerful body and his masculine threat.

Last Call with Olivia Brynn

Today I have Olivia Brynn on the blog couch and she has a very hot excerpt to share with us today.

Welcome to the blog Olivia! Why don’t you start by telling us a little bit about Last Call!

Thanks so much for having me! My latest, Last Call is a short story, a contemporary erotic with a bit of humor thrown in. Here's my short blurb: Eric didn't know what he was getting into when he answered his phone. A misdialed number and an inebriated woman make for a long Friday night.
Last Call is a fun little romp that made me smile while I wrote it.

How many books have you written?

Last Call is my fourth release, but my alter ego Alanna Coca also has four. I've got two in the queue, one releases next month, and the next soon after. I guess that makes six, so I beat Alanna!

Do you have a favorite character from one of your own books? Who and why?

Hm, can I pick a favorite character from each book? In that case I'd have to go with…oh. That won't work. Can I pick a favorite hero in each book? And a favorite heroine? That would be easier. I fall in love with them all. Wow, good question. Sorry I can't answer it!

If I were reading your work for the first time, which book do you suggest I start with?

I guess I'd have to ask you your preferences. I've got short and hot stories, two interracial books, a contemporary western…a little bit of something for everyone.

How long does it usually take for you to write a book?

If I actually sat down and turned off the Internet (haha) it would take me about a month, but that rarely happens. My first book For a Price took me four days, but it was only 26,000 words, and that book is the exception, not the rule. That didn't really answer your question, did it? Wow, I'm failing this interview!

How many books do you write in a year?

Again, that depends on the story, and the length of the book. During 2010 I wrote four, two are short, two are longer.

Do you promo backlists when you’re writing a new book, or dedicate your time solely to writing?

I was told that the best way to promote a book is by writing another. The deeper I get into this whole author-ing thing, the more I believe in that suggestion.

Are any of your personal experiences reflected in your writing?

There's a little bit of me in every heroine I write, but mostly they live out my dreams. Fast cars, hot men, Mexican vacations, and they're never pre-menstrual!

Where can readers find you?

My website http://oliviabrynn.com I'm on Twitter at http://twitter.com/OliviaBrynn and I share a Facebook page with Alanna: http://facebook.com/alannacocaauthor

Are you working on another book?

Always. Alanna has a few she'd like to write, and I really want to write the sequel to Falling Star, an M/M featuring Dean, the heroine Jade's best friend. I even have the perfect guy for him too. I can't wait for everyone to meet him.

Do you have an excerpt you’d like to share?

How about one from Last Call, at the beginning of chapter two, where the publisher's official excerpt leaves off?

Joanne smiled. Waking up in the warm embrace of a man had to be one of the best things in life. She snuggled against the hard body. Clothes? Andrew?
She opened her eyes, and looked up into the face of the man in bed with her. Strong jaw, whiskers, full lips slightly parted, and strong brow. It wasn't Andrew. It was Kevin's friend Joe, who had picked her up from the bar.
She moved closer, and closed her eyes again, listening to his deep even breathing, and the steady beat of his heart. Not many men would have driven across town to pick up a friend's little sister. Or treated her with the compassion he had. Kevin must be a very good friend of his. She'd have to grill her brother about this guy. She thought she knew all of his friends. Maybe Kevin was keeping her from him, knowing she'd be lust-struck. But he did send Joe to The Ranger.
She smoothed his T-shirt over the hard curves of his chest. Breathing in the faint remnants of his cologne, clean and masculine, like sandalwood and hickory, was a reminder that she didn't know him from Adam.
But he did smell nice.
And he looked nice too. Chiseled features only softened by sleep and a shadow of whiskers. A long narrow nose, slightly crooked—she imagined it had been broken at least once. Even his Adam's apple appealed to her. She traced the stubbly protrusion with a finger, fascinated at the movement when he swallowed. Still, he slept.
She slipped her hands beneath the T-shirt, encountering a smooth back. Very nice. Is the front smooth too, or ... no. Mm. Crinkly soft hair. She found a nipple in one tuft, and used the pad of her middle finger to tease it until it grew erect. When that wasn't enough, she gathered his shirt until she could dip her head beneath the sheet and taste that nubbin.
He groaned, and his hips bucked against hers, but he didn't wake up. Joanne smiled, and moved to the other nipple.
Her head still buzzed from too much alcohol, but this she knew. This she could focus on. Salty male skin against her tongue. She trailed her lips down rippled abs, and reached ... damn. Jeans. Undaunted, she worked on the button, then the zipper, which made a delicious sound in the quiet apartment.
She walked her fingers beneath the flaps of his fly, and under the waistband of his underwear, until his hot flesh filled her palm. The musky scent of man filled her nostrils, and made her mouth water.
He sighed, rolling onto his back. She followed, engulfing the tip of his cock in the same movement. She wasn't sure if he still slept, but his hips answered each pull of suction. When his jeans and underwear got in the way, she held him in her mouth, and used both hands to bring them down below his hips.
"Mm." Perfect. His balls were free. She reached down to cup them in her palm, roll them with her fingers. She wrapped her free hand around the base of his now fully erect staff, and squeezed.
"Holy shit."
He was awake.

Woo! Is it hot in here? Awesome excerpt Olivia! Thanks for sharing it with us today!

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