Does This Sound Familiar?

Once upon a time there was a girl named Katie, who had a father who was an astronaut, and who had his own spaceship. One day Katie learned she could move objects just by concentrating on them.

One day, she was out in the back yard, happily moving around rocks, toys, etc, when the air shimmered and a face appeared, appealing for help.

She ran to her father and asked him to take her to the Correli System. As luck would have it, her father had just gotten off the phone and was on his way to the spaceport to meet with two others who were requesting passage to the same system. Since school was out, the father agreed to take Katie along with him.

While en route to Correli, Katie accidentally let her power show, and the two passengers quickly realized she possessed The Force, and reassured her it was perfectly normal. The male, Luke, helped her hone her skills during the trip. The female, Leia, confided the reason behind the trip. When Katie revealed the vision she'd had, everyone was excited.

Upon arriving at Correli, the group was captured by the evil leader, Jabba. But before the guards could take them away, another guard announced the prisoner had gotten free. Jabba went to investigate; Katie and company ran the other way, found Han Solo, and escaped back to the spaceship. Katie and Luke used The Force to ward off the guards chasing them, and soon arrived at the Millenium Falcon. The three passengers expressed their gratitude, and transported over to the Falcon. Katie and her father headed back to Earth. The End.

What? It's full of holes? And what about the REST of the story, with Darth Vader, the Death Star, Yoda, etc?

Yes, this early attempt at sci-fi showed me (in hindsight) that I was destined for the romance genre.

Of course, I was only 15 when I wrote it, so of course it's full of holes! It's hard to research something in which you only have two hours a month to work on it, and going to the library during class is a no-no.

And obviously, three years later the REAL movie arrived in theaters and I realized everything I'd written did NOT match George Lucas' dream!

So what about you? Do any of your first attempts vaguely resemble the plots of past books or movies? Ever write your own sequel to anything?

Guest Blog: Shoshanna Evers: Sensual vs. Erotic Sex Scenes - What's the Difference?

This is a topic I’ve been thinking about quite a bit lately as I broaden both my reading and my writing experiences to include heat levels of all kinds. I love reading (and writing!) sex scenes, especially when it’s no-holds-barred erotic romance. The heat, the raw, graphic passion—and the words. Oh. My. God.

We’re talking about words I can write easily, but I can’t say aloud without blushing. I’m not even sure if I’m supposed to write them here, in this blog post. I can think of at least three words that start with the letter “c” that I happily put into every erotic romance sex-scene I write. I can also think of a few p-words. And an a-word or two. Then there’s the descriptive language that leaves nothing to the imagination…

In a non-erotic but still steamy romance, a lot is left to the reader’s imagination—and that is *not* a bad thing. After all, we’re all adults here, and we have enough experience to figure out what happens when the bedroom door closes. The author will give us just enough to let us know something wonderful and hot is happening, but leaves our own minds to fill in the details. And key graphic words are replaced with euphemisms.

In summary, in erotica I’ll write “pussy” and in mainstream I might write “her core”. On that note, I’d love to share with you my most recent erotic romance from Ellora’s Cave, titled Chastity Belt. Be warned – it’s dirty…and leaves nothing to the imagination. ;)

Thanks for having me here on "Romance Books R Us", Marianne!

BIO:
Shoshanna Evers writes erotic romance for Ellora’s Cave, and in November she’ll be published in the Berkley Heat anthology Agony/Ecstacy. She is a stay-at-home mom during the week, an advice columnist for a local newspaper, a registered nurse every other weekend, and an erotic romance writer on the opposite weekend. She does not sleep, preferring to spend her evenings doing “research” with her incredibly sexy husband. Shoshanna lives with her family and four dogs in a lakefront cottage in upstate New York. She welcomes emails from readers and writers.

BLURB for Chastity Belt

Georgia Hearn has found the perfect way to make easy cash—performing an interactive BDSM-flavored stage show at the exclusive Gentlemen’s Club. When handsome GC client Jonathan Syler goes up onstage and locks her into a chastity belt, it’s all supposed to be part of the fun. But Jonathan makes it clear he won’t be unlocking her anytime soon.

Now she’s at his mercy—and has no choice but to see him again, since he holds the key to her pleasure. Literally.

http://www.shoshannaevers.com
http://twitter.com/ShoshannaEvers
http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100001587442785
http://www.thewriterschallenge.com
http://www.jasminejade.com/m-660-shoshanna-evers.aspx

You can buy Chastity Belt from Ellora's Cave: http://www.jasminejade.com/p-9270-chastity-belt.aspx

If you have a Kindle, you can get the MobiPocket format (.prc). For the Nook, get the ePub format. If you want to read on your computer, get the Adobe PDF. :)

Are you tired of blogs?

Do you like blogs? Really?

Seems as if my e-mail is loaded lately with blogs. All kinds of blogs from so many people it’s hard to keep track. It’s also impossible to read them all. So here I am blogging, and I really wonder why.

Most of them are excellent. But some are a sheer waste of time, and some are so full of self-promotion it turns me off from the first sentence. Good advice and straight thinking is what I’m looking for. A little humor thrown in never hurts. Well, maybe a lot of humor!

One quote I love about writing is from Lillian Hellman, the famous playwright. “If I had to give young writers advice, I would say don’t listen to writers talking about writers or themselves.” I always hesitate to blog anyway, and that advice doesn’t exactly urge me on.

So what’s the answer to too many blogs? I know I miss some good ones, but like all writers I never have enough time to read even half the e-mail from my writer’s groups. I wish some of you who are reading this would comment and let me know what you think. Too many blogs? Not enough? Do you like excerpts or do you prefer blurbs? What attracts you the most? I’d really like to know.

Just to give you a choice, here’s an excerpt from my book Quest for Magic which is coming out this summer. You can read it and do, do, do tell me what you like. I’ll send the complete ms. to one of those lovely people who take the trouble to comment. This ms.and excerpt are not yet edited, so you’ll be the first to see it.


"Jono drove home quickly, not wanting the evening to end, but hoping he could kiss her good night again. They said little on the way to the flats. When he took her to her door, he stood looking at her a moment, not able to believe his luck in having her with him, her expressive eyes clearly expecting his kiss.
He took her in his arms, loving the way she moved into them, at first hesitantly, and then with grace.
“I’ll need more than just one goodnight kiss, Hayley.”
Her eyes grew even larger, as she turned her face up to his. Her eyes closed as he kissed her with restrained passion. As her arms locked around his neck he deepened the kiss. He’d promised himself to stay in check no matter how she inflamed him but then she moved her body against his with a low sigh. He’d never known a woman’s body could fit quite so well. Every curve seemed fashioned to meld with his masculine angles. He doubted if a sheet of paper could slip between them without going up in flames.
With a groan he backed her into the shadows against the porch wall and ground his rampant penis into her softness. She gasped, but moved her hips again in the most feminine of welcomes, and Jono forgot all about his decision not to rush her. He kissed her breasts through her thin blouse, moving from one to the other and sucking each nipple in a wild assault. His control, always precarious when around her, almost vanished. Her uninhibited response, even though every move proclaimed her an innocent, sent him over the edge he’d resolved not to cross with her so soon.
But she’d learned so quickly. She was seducing him every bit as much as he was seducing her.
He reached under her skirt and let his hands caress her slim hips, trying desperately to keep control. Her silken panties were thin and he could feel the soft curls under them. He started to drag at the last garment hindering his access to paradise and then he realized where they were. Practically in public, for Merlin’s sake, even though no one had yet walked down the street. He couldn’t insult her in this crude manner.
She clutched him and moaned when he started to pull away.
He gave her one deep kiss and then loosened her arms around his neck.
“It’s too public out here. Will you come into my flat with me, Hayley?"

Interview of Toni V. Sweeney

Today it's my pleasure to present an interview of romance author Toni V. Sweeney!

Latest Book: Barbarian Blood Royal
Buy Link: http://www.double-dragon-ebooks.com/single.php?ISBN=1-55404-821-4
Video Link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7jOG_0a-PK

BIO:
Toni V. Sweeney was born some time between the War Between the States and the Gulf War. She has lived 30 years in the South, a score in the Middle West and a decade on the Pacific Coast and now she’s trying for her second 30 on the Great Plains. Her first novel was published in 1989. An accomplished artist as well as writer, she has a degree in Fine Art and a diploma in Graphic Art. She maintains a website for herself and her pseudonym Icy Snow Blackstone, and has been associated with the South Coast Writer's Association, the Pink Fuzzy Slipper Writers, myspace, Facebook, and YouTube. Barbarian Blood Royal/ is her 25th novel.

Q What part of the book is the easiest for you to write? Why?
A: Usually it’s dialogue between the hero and heroine, especially if they’re not exactly wild about each other. I like what I call “Snappy repartee” with each one giving as good as he/she gets. Anyone having read any of the “Sinbad” books knows what I mean. Sin and Andi are forever batting words back and forth, and enjoying every minute of it.

Q: What part of the book is the hardest for you? Why?
A: It’s usually a part I know is necessary but I’m really not interested in. I just want to get it out of the way so I can get to the “good” stuff. In the book I’m working on now—set in ancient Egypt--the characters have to get from one city to another by traveling across a desert. I was tempted to just have them start out, stick in a couple of asterisks, and in the next paragraph have them arrive, but I knew that would be the coward’s way out, besides being way too obvious I didn’t want to write it. SO I sat down, gritted my teeth and managed a description of their anxiety of getting to their destination ASAP, the fact that it was going to take two days and if they forced a march, they’d arrive exhausted and no good to anyone.

When it was finished, I could see that it added some very necessary information, giving more insight into the characters as well as setting the scene for what awaited them.

Q: Who is your favorite character in your book and why?
A: In Barbarian Blood Royal, my favorite character is Val kan Ingan. Val’s the son of Riven kan Ingan, the son of a warlord but he’s led an unusual life and as a result, he has a Royal-sized chip on his armored shoulder. He’s been at odds with his father most of his life because before his birth, his father drove his mother out, thinking she’d been unfaithful. Val was 5 before his father recognized the boy as his heir. As a result, he’s gone out of his way to do whatever he can to bedevil his father, and it’s only just before Riven’s death in the war (told in the previous book A Singing in the Blood), that they reconcile. Now, orphaned by the war, he has that precious moment to cling to…that he and his father admitted their love for each other. When the story starts, he’s barely 20, suddenly finding himself a fugitive, the son of a declared traitor, and running for his life…while swearing he’s going to survive, become a warrior, and come back to avenge his father’s death as well as clearing his name.

That’s a lot of responsibility to put on a pair of young shoulders, but Val accepts. Through most of the story, he’s portrayed as having a single minded goal—revenge—and letting nothing get in his way to accomplish it. Toward the end of the book, however, I get a chance to show his gentle side as he searches for the servant girl he fell in love with, refusing to believe she’s dead because he’s kept her alive in his heart for 17 years, and when he does find her…he suddenly becomes that clumsy 20-year-old again, just as if no time had passed at all. Now, he has to dig deep within himself and bring out the love he’s suppressed for so long. He has to convince himself that he can still be a warrior and also be tender, and it won’t reflect on his manhood.

Q: If one of your books became a movie, which celebrity would you like to star as one of your hero?
A: For Val, I guess I’d have to say Nicolai Coster-Waldau who’s currently in A Game of Thrones.

Q: Do all your heroes and all heroines look the same in your mind as you “head write”?
A: Most of the men are tall, though I’ve had a couple who weren’t even six-feet but they’ve been dark, fair…one was even evolved from a feline species. The heroines are usually small and feisty but other than that, they have an array of hair coloring and complexions, too.

Q: Do you eat comfort food when writing? If so, what food inspires your imagination?
A: I admit I’ve a weakness for dry-roasted peanuts and dark chocolate.

Q: What is your favorite romance book that you’ve read?
A: That would have to be The Prince of Midnight, which—contrary to what some publishers say can’t be done—is written from the hero’s point of view. This hero has an unusual affliction also; he’s a highwayman stricken with Meniere’s Syndrome which appears at the most inopportune times. The cover model for the story was Fabio and it was the first time I’d ever seen him. I liked the story so much, I even named my cat “Thibault Minuit” which is “Prince of Midnight" in French.

Q: You’re on a remote island with a handsome man, a computer, and a “mysterious” source of electricity to power your computer. What do you do?
A: Throw in some chocolate and… I’m not saying, but it might turn up in a later novel!

Q: What genre would you like to try writing in but haven’t yet done so? Why?
A: I’ve never tried writing a mystery because I don’t think I’m devious enough.

Tell us where to find you: website(s), publisher’s page(s), blog(s), Facebook page(s), etc. List them all!
http://www.tonivsweeney.com
http://www.facebook.com/tvsweeney
http://www.myspace.com/tvsweeney

BLURB:
With the death of their parents in the Genocide Wars, the five sons of Riven kan Ingan flee to separate countries to escape the Margrave's injustice. There, they grow into men, become warriors, and wait for the time to return and avenge themselves upon Morling, king of Francovia. One will become a king, and fulfill the Drune priest's prophecy given to their grandfather three generations before.

Val…Ilke…the twins…Merigan…who will be the Barbarian Blood Royal?

EXCERPT:
Wheeling, Val fended away the sword of his attacker.

For weeks now, they had followed him. He'd seen the three figures in the distance, and though they never came close enough for him to identify the crimson gauntlet upon their black tabards marking them as Black Shields, he knew who they were. Like hounds on the scent of a fox, Morling's hunters had tracked him this far, staying with him, never losing sight of their prey.

He was on a plain…grassy, hot, and treeless, and offering little protection from either the sun or the men following him. Behind him, the mountains were a hazy blur in the distance. Before him, stretched the level grass and nothing else.

For days now, he'd rationed his water supply, going without so his horse could have more to drink, until the animal faltered and fell under the blaze of the sun, its mouth open and dry. Holding his hand under the horse's muzzle, Val poured the remaining water onto the animal's tongue. As it coughed, swallowed, and heaved itself shakily to its feet, he brushed his damp palm across his own dry, cracking lips, skin gratefully absorbing what moisture was left.

Taking up the reins, he and the animal trudged on.

That was what they had waited for. The fox was run to ground and the hounds attacked.

He barely had time to draw his sword and brace himself before they were upon him.

***

All-Father, help him! The spindle fell from the Weaver's fingers, sending her scrambling to the floor after it.  It tumbled through the clouds to land at Ildred's feet. Weaver followed, on her knees before the Father of the Gods.

'Tis not the time, Weaver. All-Father's voice was calm, making her plea all the more frantic.

There are three against one. The odds are too unfair, she protested, seizing the spindle and crawling back to her seat before the loom.

He's not an untried stripling, Weaver. Though young, he's already fought beside his father, and survived.

Aye, and you let the father die! she accused, her fear making her reckless to speak back to the Father of the Gods. You promised the man peace and a long life and you let him be killed in that needless war!

For this day and time, he did have a long life, Ildred answered. The war was necessary to force his sons into manhood, to mark the beginning of the prophecy.  Yon boy fought and survived and he'll survive this, too--without my help.

Why won't you help him? she persisted. You said his grandsire would be the ancestor of kings. How can that happen if the boy dies?

Riven kan Ingan had more than one son, Weaver. The words were cold.

Then...young Valriven isn't the one who--Weaver's words trailed away. Which one, All-Father, which one is it, then?

Not now, Weaver. A hand gestured toward the scene being woven before her. You must tend to your loom. The story unfolds without you...

***

Fending away one sword, he turned to block the thrust of the second Black Shield's blade, trying to maneuver into a position where he could face all three. They continued to circle, darting in, moving away. If they'd bayed and growled, 'twould've been appropriate.

The fox was at bay and they were waiting to pull him down.

Drel's devils! he thought frantically, despairing at the odds. Prince of Demons, help me! Three against one's too unequal!

***

...the clouds burst into crimson light.Ripping them away with his taloned fingers, Drel forced his dreadful way into the Cavern.

Father, did you hear? He called for me! The words were a liquid stream of scarlet, directed at Ildred as if in challenge.

I heard, Ildred replied, unmoved by neither Drel's blood-smeared aspect nor his words. And you shall have him--for now.

Y-you relinquish him? A look of puzzlement appearing on what could be seen of Drel’s gore-stained face under the cheek-guards of his horned helm. For this moment. The boy's belonged to you in body for some time, my bloody son. The Bloodsong rages through his veins and 'tis your path he'll follow for many years. Go! Send your minion to answer his call and make him your own, but be ready to release him when the time comes. Take his body--but I'll keep his soul!

With a roar sweeping through the sky as a screaming wind, darkness gleaming through the rents in his blood-dark robes,Drel rushed from the Cavern.

***

He swung his sword but the man leaped away and the blow which should've driven the point through his chest merely struck his shoulder. Still, the Black went down, weapon falling from his hand.

One out of the way!

'Twas awkward, fighting with his left hand, trying to swing the sword around to meet theirs. One moved in, and as their blades clashed in the air, the other Black stepped behind him. Out of the corner of his eye, Val saw the man raise his sword.

Even as he dodged and lifted his own weapon to catch the downward-moving blade, he knew 'twas too late. He had a sudden glimpse of metal glittering in the sun as it fell to bury itself through forehead, eye, and cheek.

Dropping his sword, Val clutched at his face, and the world burst into a raw and crimson wound.

Anything else you’d like to add?
Thanks for having me as your guest today!

The Ides of March whizzed by and I totally missed them!

So I suppose today should be called the Ides of May?

No?

Okay...let us move on.  So many of my good pals have been movin' right along and getting a novel or two out every month.  I feel sorta like the kitty above.  I managed a leap, but am now snoozing on the damn branch just waiting for the verdict. :(

I am working on a Revise and Resub right now, but am drifting along with the tumbling tumbleweeds, not getting much done as I try to change a number of things in the story to match what my editor asked me for.  Too bad I am a full "pantser" and not a plotter.  Once the story is finished, and the muse takes her vacation, it isn't easy to change tack and remake my novel. Sigh.

So maybe next month...maybe by the Ides of June I will have something going.  Maybe...

Hugs...

Fran Lee

http://www.franleeromance.com

Sex Sells

When I started writing way back when…I wanted to be just like Danielle Steele. I had read something like 30 books of hers and felt I could write the story she hadn’t written yet – the story I wanted to read. Funny thing about that…I wrote the book, never did anything with it and then Danielle Steele came out with something so similar it scared me. It was like she read my mind. Now before you ask, no I don’t feel like she stole my idea. How could she? I was just some lonely housewife and mother looking for a way to express myself.
Fast forward many years later and I left Danielle behind. I began reading Chick Lit and Romantic Comedies. I found books I really loved. I decided I’d write Chick Lit. I wrote three books. They’re still sitting in a drawer. Turns out I don’t have a first person voice, even though I love writing in it.
I never dreamed of the day I’d get to write about sex. Seven or eight years ago I found a group of women who were doing reviews for eBooks. Most of them were erotic. I joined the group and a new love blossomed. Suddenly I needed to write these types of books. So I penned my first one. Mistletoe Studs. The book stayed in the drawer for almost two years, until I joined my local writers group. They gave me the one thing I lacked – courage to submit a story. I received a contract a few days after subbing it and it saw publication within weeks. I still hold that book dear after all these years.
I’ve been writing sex ever since and while I’m trying to write a straight contemporary I’m finding it harder to do now. I have to retrain my brain to write less sex. For me I know as long as a market exists I’ll always write sex. Not only is it fun – sex sells!
To celebrate my journey I’m giving away a copy of Sex on the Beach to one lucky commenter. I’ll announce the winner on Monday over on my blog: http://amberskyze.blogspot.com

Happy May!










Sex on the Beach


Blurb:
Allie only wanted two weeks of peace and quiet at her friend’s beach house to get her life in perspective. She wasn’t looking for sex, drugs and a kidnapping. But that’s what she gets when she encounters not one but two tasty men.

Tony, her gorgeous next-door neighbor, has a body any woman would want to explore, and Allie crave him licking, teasing and ravishing her body with those strong hands and kissable lips. Little does she know Tony’s on the trail of a drug dealer.

Then there’s Paul, who also wants a piece of Allie…if he can possibly tear her away from Tony.

An Excerpt From: SEX ON THE BEACH

Copyright © AMBER SKYZE, 2011

All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.

Chapter One



The wind blew wisps of Allie’s long blonde hair back toward the road she’d just traveled. She sped along the California coastline in her yellow convertible Spyder, enjoying the sunrise in the distance. The sun sparkled across the ocean, glimmering orange as it rose. The rays would threaten to scorch her skin later in the day. The weatherman had said the temperatures would reach well into the nineties again.

She pressed her flip-flopped foot harder on the gas pedal. Allie allowed the car to accelerate because she knew no one in their right mind would be on the road at this ungodly hour. Not everyone woke before the crack of dawn. While most were still sleeping soundly in their beds, the air conditioner cooling their skin, Allie was up grocery shopping.

It wasn’t unusual for her to be up and going at four in the morning. She loved those first few hours of the day when life was quiet. She could sip her coffee leisurely. The hustle and bustle came later when she left the house to fight the highway traffic on her way to her job as a marketing executive for a pharmaceutical company.

At least that was her life before she’d lost her job. She punched the steering wheel.

“Fuck,” she cursed to the open wind. While she missed the craziness of her old life she had to admit the last six months were the most stress-free she’d felt in years, right up until she returned to work.

The long hours and stress related to her job contributed in the onslaught of health issues she hadn’t known existed. After three consecutive months with a bout of what she thought was the flu Allie finally sought the advice of her doctor. He put her through numerous rounds of testing and came to the conclusion she suffered from acid reflux and Crohns disease. Both were brought on by stress, food choices and not taking care of her body.

Allie spent five agonizing days in the hospital while her doctor tried to get her disease under control. It was the worst experience in her life. There were times when she thought she’d die and sometimes she silently prayed she would. It was devastating and debilitating, but she swore she wouldn’t let it control her again.

Once Dr. Robinson managed to get the disease under control she looked pointedly at Allie.

“Look, your job is slowly killing you. Your body can’t handle the stress or long hours you’re demanding of it. You need to make some lifestyle changes or I’m just going to see you back here in a few months,” she’d said.

The reality of the doctor’s words was like a knife being twisted in her chest. She didn’t know how to not be on the go 24/7. That was the way she’d lived her life since turning sixteen.

Allie pressed even harder on the gas pedal.

She couldn’t get to the beach house fast enough. The idea of spending two weeks of quiet, soaking up the sun and sand appealed to her on so many levels. When her friend Pam told her she could use her beach house, Allie had immediately jumped on the offer.

The next few weeks would give her time to readjust to being unemployed and hopefully clear her mind. Eventually she’d have to decide what direction she wanted to take with her life. She had enough money saved to get her through six months of unemployment, but Allie didn’t want to totally deplete her savings. It was there as a safety net, nothing more.

Quitting had never been a word Allie thought she’d use, but her boss left her no other choice. She’d had a career as a marketing executive for almost five years before she’d up and resigned.

“Asshole!” She gripped the steering wheel, fighting back the tears stinging her eyes. She refused to cry. She wouldn’t give that shithead the satisfaction of beating her down. She wiped away the drop with the back of her hand.

“Screw you, Marty.”

Very Superstitious

So it's Friday the 13th. An unlucky day? Well, I tried all day yesterday to get this post up, but Blogger was down. I strongly suspect anyone involved in the highly successful movie series considers it very lucky, on the other hand.

So many superstitions about luck. Bad luck can come from broken mirrors, spilled salt, black cats, walking under a ladder or opening an umbrella inside the house. Good luck charms include crossed fingers, four leafed clovers, rabbits' feet (not so lucky for the rabbit) upturned horseshoes and knocking on wood.

I found a collection of interesting tidbits at http://www.corsinet.com/trivia/scary.html. While you're at it, leave a comment below on your favorite superstition, and sometime Sunday, I'll draw one random commenter to win a copy of my new book from Ellora's Cave: Midsummer Dreams.

 * * * *

Midsummer Dreams

Holiday Hearts #4

By Cindy Spencer Pape

From Ellora’s Cave

Blurb:

Matt Warren has always been the man of Summer’s dreams. He was her childhood imaginary playmate, her teen crush, and the wildly sexy fantasy lover of her adulthood. She’s always known he wasn’t real, but after experiencing his imaginative, passionate touch, no real man has ever measured up. Alone on a beach shortly before her birthday, however, Summer discovers that the Holiday family magic hasn’t left her behind. Matt is real, here on her beach, and her to make Summer his, in every way possible.

Matt has always known that he has a gift as a dreamwalker, and that Summer was out there, and would someday be his, if he didn’t get himself killed first. Now that his career as an Air Force pilot is over, he’s moved to Charleston to find Summer and teach her that their shared erotic dreams are even better in real life, and that their love can last a lifetime.

Excerpt: (ADULT)

Summer Holiday tossed and turned in the middle of a dream that had visited on and off her whole life. She knew she was dreaming, but she didn’t want it to end.

The sand was warm beneath her feet and the surf lapped softly against the shore. No one else was around, just the two of them. The handsome, golden-haired man gazed at her with his midnight-blue eyes. He reached for her and she walked into his arms. He was mostly naked, a pair of cut-off jeans his only covering. She had on a sundress, with a bikini underneath. This part of the dream was the same, had been since she could remember. As she’d gotten older though, it had grown more and more explicit. Now, sometimes the dream carried through until they’d both come, and Summer wanted that tonight. It had been a long week, and she needed some sort of release.

“Summer.” He murmured her name into her hair as he hugged her close. That had been added to the dream sometime in her teen years. They’d shared names and told each other about their lives. Her subconscious had built quite a character for her dream man. He was three years older than her, had parents who were divorced, a married sister, and since her college years, he’d been in the military. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too, Matt.” Matthew Harrison Warren, that’s what she’d named him. Major Matt Warren. Her childhood dream friend who’d grown into her adult dream lover. “It’s been a long time.”

“I was in the hospital for a while,” he told her as he kissed her earlobe, the line of her neck. “I didn’t dream while they had me pumped full of drugs.”

This was her dream, not his. Still, she wasn’t going to waste it asking questions. She wanted him inside her—now. The minute she’d seen him coming down the beach in her dream, she’d grown wet and ready for him. It had been months since her last dream of Matt and years since she’d had a real lover. None of the guys she’d dated had ever measured up to the man of her dreams.

Summer was impatient. She tugged open the buttons of his fly and pushed his jeans down around his ankles. There was a new, angry-red scar on his hip, stitch marks clear through the center of it.

“I have an artificial hip joint now,” he said. “Like an old man. I’m not in the Air Force anymore, of course. I’m working on what to do next.”

When had her dreams decided she needed a lover who wasn’t a fighter pilot? No matter since he only existed in her head. Maybe this was her subconscious reminding her she wasn’t getting any younger. “You’ll find something. You’re a qualified engineer, right?” Before he’d gone off to the Air Force, she’d dreamed he was an aeronautical engineering student.

“That I am, sugar. I’ll find a job, don’t you worry about it.”

She leaned over and kissed the scar. Her cheek rubbed against his thick cock, already fully erect. Of course she wouldn’t worry—or shouldn’t. He was simply a dream. But the scar looked so inflamed and painful, her heart lurched. “Does it hurt too much?”

“Too much to make love to you? Never.” He pulled her sundress over her head and tugged open the ties of her bikini. The sun warmed her nipples but they stayed as hard as if she stood in a snow bank. One by one, Matt dropped kisses on the dark-pink buds. “Every time I see you, you’re even more beautiful than I remember.”

“I’m almost thirty-three,” she reminded him, feeling positively ancient. “Just another few weeks until my birthday. My youngest brother just got married, and my oldest has a two-month-old little girl. My younger sister’s been married for a year, and now they’re talking about having a baby. That leaves just me and Sam as the singles in the family.” Summer was the middle of the five Holiday siblings while Sam was second oldest.

“All the men in Charleston are idiots.” Matt dropped to his knees in the sand, though there was miraculously a blanket underneath them. “I’m coming, Summer. Will you wait for me? I promise I’m on my way.”

Guest Blog: Avril Ashton: We're Not That Different!

I’ve been fortunate in my short—so far—span at being a published author to meet some totally awesome people. Recently a woman—a mother, wife, teacher, was outed as also being an erotic romance writer. The news station did an abysmal and one-sided job on reporting the non-story, and a firestorm ensued across the social media universe.

This really got under my skin, because it’s so not a big deal. Not even a small deal. What we do in our private lives concern no one but us unless, and until, it interferes in some way, shape or form with our ability to conduct ourselves as law-abiding citizens.

I can’t imagine what it must feel like to have your business all up in the streets because some busy-bodies are on a moral rampage. I’ve tried putting myself in the shoes of the people on the other end of the debate? and nope, the shoe don’t really fit.

See, to compare us to predators and law-breakers are just going too far. You don’t have to like what we do, you sure as hell don’t have to read it, but just as I don’t have the right to walk into your house and criticize you, you have no right to do it to me. We’re somehow portrayed as deviants, sexual freaks out to corrupt an upright society, but I’ve got news…ship done sailed and we erotic romance writers weren’t even on board.

Now, I’m the first to admit I’m rather on the crazy side, but I’m also a parent, a sibling, someone’s child, and someone’s partner. I’ve never been in trouble with the law, never even had a parking ticket. Squeaky clean. Though I haven’t set foot in an actual church in eons, I believe in God—we’re on a first name basis, him and I. He’s given me an amazing gift of words, and the ability to craft it into a killer story. And I love what I do.

How many people can really say that?

I say to those who turn up their noses, we’re not that different. Well, except for the whole I love to read and write about sex bit.

BIO:
A Caribbean transplant, Avril now lives in Brooklyn, N.Y with a Spousal Equivalent of almost eight years. Together they raise a 6 y/o daughter who loves reading and school (wonder how long that will last). Avril’s earliest memories of reading revolve around discussing plot points of The Nancy Drew and The Hardy Boys with an equally book-minded mother

Always in love with the written word, Avril finally decided to do the writing in August of ’09 and never looked back. Spicy love scenes, delicious heroes, and wicked women burn up the pages of Avril’s stories, but there’ll always be a happy ending; Avril remains a believer of love in all its forms.

BLURB: Blindfold Me
Thirteen years ago, Lyric Benson's boyfriend accused her of sleeping with his older brother then disappeared. She never stopped caring, never stopped hoping. Now, all these years later, Lyric is stunned to discover the new owner of her company is one Grayson St. Clair, who never forgot or forgave her transgression.

Grayson wants nothing to do with someone he thinks hurt him so deeply. He can't let go of the past and he can't trust Lyric. It doesn't help matters that while on her watch, the Masonry company she oversaw was hacked into and the company's top secret client list accessed. Reluctantly, Lyric and Grayson team up to find the culprit, with Grayson denying their blossoming feelings at every turn. But when his brother appears, secrets in tow, Grayson will have to choose: live in the past or move on with Lyric.

http://www.avril-ashton.blogspot.com
http://www.avrilashton.weebly.com
http://www.facebooks.com/writeravrilashton
avril.ashton@yahoo.com
http://www.twitter.com/#%21AvrilAsh

Writer's Retreat

I am going on a writer's retreat and I can't wait. Five days of nothing but writing, mingling with other writers, writing, eating, writing, relaxing, and, oh, did I say writing?

It's a retreat my local RWA group takes every year - this is our tenth year. About fifteen of us go and we have a blast. Yes, it is a long weekend of intensive work, but we also find time to socialize, party, have fun, and generally enjoy ourselves while putting out amazing amounts of productivity.

We stay at a campground that has a "hotel" on the grounds so we have all the comforts of home - and don't have to cook! They do all the meals for us. One thing we don't have in our rooms is TV - which is just as well since many of us would probably tend to use it to catch up on our favorite shows (though we can do that with our computers). We also do not have WiFi (or any other kind) of connectivity in our rooms - only in the lobby of the hotel. So no email, no surfing the web, no nothing.

Just days of writing. Brainstorming with other writers. Having immediate support when we're stuck with a word or scene. It is nirvana.

This year, I have two manuscripts I'm working on - an epic fantasy and an urban fantasy - my goal is to have them both plotted out and scenes ready to go by the time I'm done. I also plan to edit a third ms I've finished but needs work. Lofty goals, but I'm hopeful. :)

Can you tell I'm excited about this? We all are. My little crit group, all five of whom are also going, has been preparing for this for weeks. We have everything we're going to work on ready to go and we're packing up our pages and red pens and plotting sheets.

So my suggestion is to you... plan your own writing retreat. It doesn't have to be four or five days like we do - it can be just a day, or even a few hours. Get together with other writer friends and start writing. Or editing. Or brainstorming. Anything to get the writing juices flowing and have fun!

See you all next week! Oh, and keep an eye on my Victoria site - I've got a new "Chosen" story coming out on May 25th that I know you'll love!

Vicky/Victoria

A taste of 'Sugar Roux Voodoo' for you"

It’s good to be back at Romance Books R’ Us! I took a little break from most blogging this spring because of a heavy workload. Hopefully, I’ll soon have something to share with you about what I’ve been working on.

“Sugar Roux Voodoo” is my latest book from Ellora’s Cave Publishing and the first of what I hope will become a series. This story has a little bit of everything. It’s categorized as a historical but it has Voodoo parlors aboard gambling riverboats, dashing pirate captains who love purple brocade, evil shape-shifters sexually accosting women in the alleyways of the French Quarter, and zombies working the cane fields…It’s all for fun and complete fantasy, none of it belongs in a history book.

Did I mention there’s also a once in a lifetime romance, redemption, forgiveness and love? That’s the good part. I’m not giving anything away here be saying the core of the story is love makes us better people and can save us from our darkest hour. At least that’s what I intended.

Here’s the Blurb:
New Orleans 1834. Lark La Beau is a green-eyed beauty and respected beneficent voodoo priestess with the sometimes uncooperative gift of clairvoyance. Captain Valcour Curry is a debonair, larger-than-life buccaneer with ambition to burn and a taste for fine things. Following a whirlwind romance with Lark, he disappears at sea, leaving Lark with a riverboat and a child to rear—alone.

A guilty act of piracy causes Valcour to fall victim to a shapeshifting magician who practices the dark art of soul-swapping. For five years Valcour has been enslaved as an emotionless zombie with no memory of his loved ones or past. From dusk to dawn he is cursed to toil in the cane fields while the evil magician uses his soul to lure women near and have his brutal way with them.

Lark’s love for Valcour runs deep. She risks hell and journeys to the oppressive Broken Oak Plantation to break the curse. It’s a terrifying place. Her only tools to call Valcour’s lost soul back to life are beneficent voodoo and the sensual power of love.

Romance Writer’s Reviews loved “Sugar Roux Voodoo” and gave it 5 Stars!
The book had me hanging on, I couldn’t put it down I wanted to know what would happen. I really enjoyed the storyline, it was interesting and different.”
You can read the full review here:
http://www.romancewritersreviews.com/index.php?option=com_sobi2&sobi2Task=sobi2Details&catid=3&sobi2Id=82&Itemid=30If you would like to read an except of “Sugar Roux Voodoo” please go to:
http://www.jasminejade.com/p-9273-sugar-roux-voodoo.aspx

“Sugar Roux Voodoo” has a book trailer too. I wanted to make Captain Valcour Curry happy, so we used a lot of purple and of course one of his favorite gemstones… if you haven’t see the trailer yet please take a look:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DTFQfTDb-t0

Thank you! I love reading your comments so please leave one or just say hello!

Katalina Leon “Sugar Roux Voodoo”, Ellora’s Cave Legend Line available now.