Friday, November 30, 2007
My dog loves snow too. It’s funny watching her romp through it. She bounds like a reindeer. Then when she’s done she comes up to the door and dances around because her paws are cold—tail wagging like no tomorrow because she’s so happy. She amuses me. Best. Dog. Ever.
So besides the fantastic sight this morning, I woke up to two reviews on my last book, All Chained Up. Thank you Alternative Read and ecata-sensual. Excerpts of the reviews:
Alternative Read said: A wonderful mix of intrigue and passion. The sex is hot, the love is deep, and the dominant/submission ignites the fire within. A great mix of all that makes erotic romance great as they struggle against desire and outside forces.
(The whole review: http://tjbook-list.blogspot.com/2007/11/all-chained-up-torrid-tarot-four-of.html)
Sensual-ecataromance said: A sizzling mystical read that leaves goosebumps All Chained Up by Brynn Paulin will delight readers while giving them a sensual look into a BDSM relationship. I loved reading this book, especially about Theo and Keera, their outlook on life and relationships was basically the same, even though Keera thought that her past life was her own but once Theo disabused her of that thought she realized that together they would face whatever life threw at them. This book isn’t just about BDSM, although it does play a big role in the whole plot, All Chained Up is also about acceptance and learning that loving someone means sharing everything in your life with them and not keeping secrets that could kill. Ms. Paulin has penned a story not only of hope and closure for those involved but also a romantic tale that only the cards could predict. (The whole review: http://sensual.ecataromance.com/index.php?p=346)
So, it’s a happy, happy day! For more happy, pop over to the Total-e-bound blog and check out the 20 ways to moan. I had no idea there were so many… I might learn a lot today. Here’s the linkeroo: http://totalebound.blogspot.com/2007/11/20-different-ways-to-moan.html
Okay…back to the contest. 12 Days of Romance, 12 great authors. But I bet you want to know who they are… Well, I aim to please (really don’t believe what my husband says!!!). The authors are: Anny Cook, Sandra Cox, Bronwyn Green, Heather Hiestand, Barbara Huffert, Amarinda Jones, Kelly Kirch, Cindy Spencer Pape, Jacqueline Roth, KZ Snow, Lacey Thorn, and me Brynn Paulin. I’ve seen the books on the list and this is going to be fun! Check it out, win free books!
Well, off to play in the snow. See you!
Thursday, November 29, 2007
Collect all twelve answers and e-mail them to email@example.com with 12 days of Christmas in the subject line to win some great books. There will be three lucky winners. The prizes –1st prize--6 books2nd prize--4 books3rd prize--2 booksAll books and prize winners will be drawn randomly.
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Did I mention it’s cold? I was so cold this morning, I crawled back in bed after I took my kids to school. I'd settled in for a perfectly good nap when all of a sudden I heard, “Ho ho ho! Merry Christmas!” in this deep voice. It was vague. I ignored it. So did the dog which is a good indicator of whether or not I need to panic. A few minutes later, I again hear, “Ho ho ho! Merry Christmas!”
Frowning and a little perplexed, I buried my head in my pillow. This wasn't some twisted version of The Night Before Christmas. The sound was the Penguin in a Box that’s on my hall table. Yes, Penguin in a Box. It’s like a Jack in the Box and it says (you guessed it) “Ho ho ho! Merry Christmas!” I figured the wind shaking the house had triggered the fragile catch and the thing had popped open. But twice? Right now I’m feeling annoyed. Okay, a little freaked out and still perplexed too…because I hauled my freezing cookies out of bed to find that the Penguin is safely inside the box. The closed box. It shouldn’t have made a sound, and it hasn’t since.
I’d go back to bed, but I suppose it was a portent that I should get up and get to work. I have a book to finish. Or maybe it was a dead person who needs to talk to me. It’s happened before…it’s saved a life. And I happen to know which dead person it’s likely to be. He’s already messed with my lazy sleep. He might as well speak. By the way, I’m not crazy and it’s not something I particularly pursue. I’m no Medium. It’s just a family trait I’ve managed to inherit and not necessarily a cherished one either.
I’m not cold anymore.
But enough weird…I have a book coming out in twenty days. It’s pretty exciting. It’s a fallen angel book about a guardian angel, Raphian, who went too far and got banished. Today I’m posting a picture of the man who inspired Raphian. Yummy yummy Edoardo Ballerini.
If you’re interested in hot men, swing on over to Bronwyn Green’s blog and check out her Monday eye candy on Tuesday. Today she’s featuring the guy I fondly call Towel Boy.
See ya! I'm off to oogle.
Saturday, November 24, 2007
Ryan Cress (smiling): Pain’s not always bad. Actually, thanks. I’m glad to be here. Sorry I’m late. I had to swing past Pleasure Palace to pick up an order.
BP: Your brother Theo owns Pleasure Palace, doesn’t he? I’m surprised he didn’t bring it to you.
RC: Theo? No, he doesn’t cut me any slack. Besides, it’s the only time I get to see my pain in the butt sister (laughs).
BP: Tell me about your family.
RC: We’re your normal mid-west American family… dad, mom, five kids, dog, BDSM. Well, I guess not so normal. My dad and mom run Cress Construction and most of us kids work there.
BP: Tell me about your siblings.
RC: My brother Theo is the oldest. He’s a year older than me and is in line to run the company. He’s also the pushiest of us all. If he sees something he wants, he gets it. No questions asked. I think he has his eye on my sub’s best friend Keera… she’ll never know what hit her. Next is Max. He’s an artist but dad talked him into running our design department. He’s good at it—better than I’d be. I think he’s been secretly in love with his friend Ana since high school, but he just won’t admit it to anyone… My baby brother is Josh. He’s a bit of a rebel. At least that’s what he tries to make everyone believe. I think he’s just broken hearted over the one that got away in college. Not that he’d ever show that by moping around. He’d have you think he’s the baddest one in the bunch. My sister Francesca is just like him… she’s going through this bitter, smart-assed goth stage. I don’t know what crawled up her skirt, but something’s bugging her—she won’t tell any of us what it is, though. Personally, I think she’s scared of being a submissive…
BP: And that would be bad?
RC: Absolutely not. Everyone should be true to who they are. If they aren’t, then they’re unhappy. Take my sub, Jessica. For years she’s hidden behind this wall of perfection, trying to control everything around her and prove she was the best at it. The circles beneath her eyes just got darker and darker and she never even smiled anymore. She smiles now that her Dom has taken her in hand.
BP: How long have you been a Dom?
RC: Since I was sixteen. It’s a family thing. I mean, either you’re a Dom or your not, but whatever leaning you display is the art in which you’re trained. My parents didn’t want to put us on the street unprepared. That would be like sending out a kid to drive a car without driver’s ed. Someone could get injured and the one who caused the pain would be stuck with a lifetime of guilt.
BP: You didn’t think that was weird?
RC: My parents have a D/s relationship. So, no, I didn’t. They never displayed the sexual part in front of us, but there was no question to who was in charge. My mother wears a collar.
BP: And no one thought that you’re mother was belittled?
RC: That’s not what D/s is about. My mother is a well-respected woman in her field. As a matter of fact, people are scared of her. Hell, I’m a little scared of her. But she physically kneels to my father in private. And emotionally kneels to him in public. She defers to him and submits.
BP: I see. So if you’re so comfortable about this lifestyle, why have you hidden it for so long?
RC: That’s awfully personal.
BP: It’s an interview. These things happen.
RC: Most people aren’t comfortable with the lifestyle. They make it into something it isn’t. They paint Doms as sadists and subs as mindless sycophants. That’s just not the way it is. Some people are actually scared of the lifestyle or see the people in it as freaks. We’re just normal people. I can’t think of many people who don’t practice some form of BDSM in their bedrooms. I keep it secret because I don’t want to explain myself to others.
BP: So would you consider yourself straight, gay, bi, or something else? Okay, you’re giving me a cross-eyed look… should I take that to mean you’re straight and I shouldn’t even be asking?
BP: Okay, then. Moving on… What trait do you find most admirable, and how often do you find it?
RC: People who are true to themselves. It’s rare. Everyone’s pretending to be something they’re not.
BP: Yet you hide your lifestyle.
RC: I didn’t say I liked it. I just think it’s necessary.
BP: Do you believe in the existence of soul mates and/or true love?
RC: Absolutely. I think the truly well-blended D/s relationship is the result of two soul mates uniting. Each is part of a whole. They couldn’t be the same—both dominant or there’d be war. Both submissive and there’d be no union, just a lot of unfulfilled drifting. Soul mates should compliment each other. A sub needs a Dom—the right Dom—and a Dom needs his sub just as much.
BP: What is your most treasured possession?
BP: But she’s a person.
RC: She belongs to me.
BP: Okay. Who would you turn to if you were in desperate need of help?
RC: I’d probably confide in Jess, but for help…definitely Theo. I can’t think of a problem he can’t solve. Of the five of us, he deserves to be the next to run Cress. He’s a leader. If I had an issue, I know he’d know the best way to attack it. He’s just that way. Analytical and determined. Nothing gets in his way.
BP: If you died or went missing, who would miss you?
RC: Why? Do you have something planned? I just got my happily ever after. I’d like it to last a while. Like a lifetime.
BP: It’s a hypothetical question. Are you always so paranoid?
RC: About death or losing Jessica? Yeah. Otherwise, no. If I went missing, Jessica would miss me. Possibly as desperately as I’d miss her. My family would miss me, too. We’re very close. When you have a family like ours, your lives intertwine. They have to. You’re your own best support system.
BP: If you knew you were going to die in 24 hours, name three things you would do in the time you had left.
RC: Seriously… is there something you’re trying to tell me? We should talk about this. You let me float around as an idea for three years and now you’re killing me off? I won’t allow that, so forget about it.
BP: I’m not going to kill you. I just wondered what you’d do.
RC: I don’t know. Definitely spend as much time as possible with Jess. I’m sure all three things would revolve around that… and seeing my family.
BP: Last question. What color are your sheets? Are they satin or cotton? Patterned or plain?
RC: That’s three questions.
BP: True. Well Ryan, thanks for visiting today. If readers are interested in learning more about you, where can they find you?
RC: Ellora’s Cave, in “On Your Knees” by Brynn Paulin. And by the way… the sheets? Dark green satin.
Friday, November 23, 2007
It seems fitting to share an excerpt from my upcoming BDSM erotic romance, Master Me. It will be available on January 9.
The Cress brothers are back...
Ana knows she’s a submissive but hasn’t ever found a real Dominant. Bad boys had never lived up to their reputations and most Doms had turned out to be nothing more than bullies. When her longtime friend Max surprises her by turning her over his knee for the spanking she’s always wanted, her body explodes with long repressed desire.
Max knows it’s time to stop hiding his lifestyle from Ana. It might destroy their friendship but he can’t watch her destroy herself instead. He offers to temporarily train her then help her find a Dom. But now that she’s kneeling at his feet, they both discover exactly what she’s needed all these years. Max’s mastery will be anything than temporary.
“I guess I’m just not submissive material.”
Right. And he didn’t have a cock. The flesh in question shoved against the fly of his jeans making its vote known and telling him it wanted to sink deep inside Ana. Big surprise there.
“Either you are or you aren’t,” he said, looking straight into her sky-blue eyes. “You are.”
She looked at him in surprise. “What would you know of it?”
He sat up. The master didn’t explain himself. His temporary slave would soon learn that and much more. “First, Tyler isn’t your master. He doesn’t deserve to be called that by anyone. Second, in any D/s relationship, the submissive is allowed boundaries. Hell, I know your boundaries. He should have taken the time to find out what you like and what you don’t. Before either of you agreed to anything, he should have known what you might do and what you absolutely won’t. Did he ever ask?”
“Push up your skirt a little,” he said suddenly, his tone relaxed as he eyed the black flippy skirt that she’d smoothed into place when she’d sat. He both loved and hated when she wore it. The light fabric danced around her legs when she walked, giving him teasing glimpses of her creamy thighs.
“What?” she exclaimed. His order visibly startled her, her eyes going wide. Nervously, she pulled her hem toward her knees. It was inches from touching.
He lowered his brows and added bite to his command. “Push up your skirt.”
“No? Now, see? This is the kind of thing we’ve discussed. This is not on your boundary list. Pushing up your skirt for the man you’re with is something you’d actually find sensual. Refusing to do it when it’s something you’ve deemed okay is disobedient.” He clamped down on the excitement unfurling inside him. This was where he’d cross the invisible line he’d placed between them all these years. “Now, come here.”
“Max?” she whispered uncertainly.
“Come. Here.” He spread his knees slightly and waited, striving to appear casual despite the blood pounding past his ears. There was nothing casual about what was about to happen. The days of ever-searching Ana and laid-back friend Max were over. Either he’d ruin a long-standing relationship or he’d take it to a new level.
She looked confused. Still, she got up and slowly walked toward him. He smiled as she again smoothed down her little skirt. That was unnecessary. He was about to get it all out of place.
Clasping her waist, he pulled her between his knees. She resisted too late, a flush creeping across her cheeks.
“Now bend,” he told her.
Her brows shot up. “What?”
“Bend.” He stared into her turbulent blue eyes, daring her to disobey.
“Do it, Anastasia,” he growled.
She jumped slightly then started to bend toward him. Quickly, he turned her, ignoring her shriek, positioned her across his knee and trapped her thighs between his. He held her in place with an arm across her back.
“Max. Let me up,” she protested, twisting ineffectively.
“You see,” he began. “I know what you’ve been looking for and I know the thought of this turns you on.”
“Not with you.”
“Oh really?” He pushed up her skirt until it was bunched on her back, leaving her white panties visible.
Thursday, November 22, 2007
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
This said, It should be known that the towels are out. I expect snow within the next 24 hours. Drive carefully and check your wiper fluid.
It’s the perfect night for cookies and hot chocolate. Fittingly enough, I bought two mongo-huge boxes of hot chocolate packets from Sam’s Club today and I’m making cookies tonight. Mostly the cookies are to take to my brother and sister-in-law’s for Thanksgiving, but I’m sure there will be enough for little snacks tonight. I’m making Danish Spritz cookies and Mexican wedding cookies. I am neither Danish nor Mexican, but I love these particular cookies. Yummy.
The wedding cookies were a last minute decision so I had to go to the store and get pecans this afternoon. I figured by going early, I’d miss the Thanksgiving grocery crowd. Big mistake. It was a zoo! Bodies everywhere. They were all still breathing when I left the store…in case you were wondering. I only growled under my breath once. Anyhoo, it seems that everyone and their sixteen brothers was at the store—and in front of my cart. I’m sorry, it’s like the road! Look before crossing aisles! I did my very best to be super pleasant. I can’t spread the Holiday Spirit if I’m a hag. Oh but it was tempting.
I may need extra cookies.
Children: It was Boy Scout night. The assistant who’s supposed to be teaching the camping badge didn’t show for the second week in a row. Thank goodness I had a back-up plan. We practiced knots…and I contemplated demonstrating them to (on???) my husband last night but I was too tired. Maybe tonight. Whoops, that probably shouldn’t be under kids. Oh well, I’m sure there won’t be permanent mental scarring. My kids are the ones who said “Mom, when you’re done doing what you’re doing, I need to talk to you.” Little mood breakers!!
Loads of laundry: 2
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
My Dead Bob Marley gets his name from Jacob Marley of Dicken’s Christmas Carol and something even more infamous. You don’t know it? If you have never heard of Ded Bob I am sorry for your loss. Ded Bob is one of my favourite characters of all time. Bob rocks out—almost as much as Bob Marley’s reggae. Ded Bob stars at many Ren festivals in his own show called "The Ded Bob Sho" and thrives on insulting the audience. He is served by his faithful manservant, Smuj. Yes, I have been bobmatized. Therefore I was happy to have Dead Bob Marley, his relation come to stay with me.
Unintentional references aside, work on my latest book went well yesterday. I’m pleased with my progress despite the fact I wanted to be done days ago. It's emotional and gut wrenching and HOT. OMG the sex. And I'm cruising along like there's no tomorrow. Who knows. Maybe there isn't. Oh see...the doomed attitude of the cursed is catching. Little does he know, I plan to redeem him. It will be all hearts and flowers.
Children: Children are doing happy dances because they have a mere day until Thanksgiving break begins. Whoo freaking hoo. I never had the Wednesday before Thanksgiving off when I was in school. I swear. Schools today… Homework avoidance 2 on the standard 1-10 scale of homework perfection.
Loads of laundry: 2
Words Written: 5000
Monday, November 19, 2007
So anyway, the other day, someone—Bronwyn—told me I couldn’t get into the Christmas Spirit if there was still a skeleton on my wall. I disagreed and asked “Have you never heard of the Nightmare Before Christmas?” Of course she has.
So, today, I introduce you to Dead Bob Marley (the gentleman on the right). He’s Jacob Marley’s brother and much more festive. He will be visiting throughout the holidays. Anyhoo, he doesn’t eat much and is an easy guest. Just hangs around a bit. That’s good because I’m in a very writerly mood today. I’m finishing up my latest story. I got my edits for Fallen and they went really well. I turned them around already so now I can focus on the creative part of my job.
Children: Bedroom cleaning took place yesterday. OMG, I'm lucky I have hair left. Between the pissing and moaning and fighting and manic laughing fits (all by the kids) I almost went nuts. Homework avoidance 5 on the standard 1-10 scale of homework perfection.
Loads of laundry: 4
Words Written: -100 (yes, that’s negative)
Friday, November 16, 2007
If the link doesn’t work, this is what it says: Cancel the kitchen scraps for leapers and orphans…No more merciful beheadings…And call off Christmas! (Alan Rickman as the Sheriff of Nottingham in Robinhood Prince of Thieves)
I’m one of those die-hard Alan Rickman fans. I’ve been in love with him since Robinhood Prince of Thieves came out oh so many years ago. I think he would make a great Scrooge in the Christmas Carol.
Speaking of scrooge, my husband is one of the biggest…in addressing this, I’ll use my answer to a question yesterday. I was asked why I felt I needed to be Christmasy. I respect that person’s point of view and I’m not about to shove my way of life on them. This is where I’m coming from:
I like the feeling I get when the spirit does catch. It’s a feeling I’d like to have year round... It’s warmth, home and well-being. A sense that all is right with the world and a strong sense of tradition. Sadly, I don’t have that all year, but I know that if I can avoid holiday stress, I can retrieve that feeling for yet another year...and I can share it with my kids.
I want them to grow up with the same sense of peace over the holidays that I always had growing up—unlike my husband who had a horrible childhood and resents most of Christmas. Yet he likes the Christmas things I do to make his season brighter now. He’s like a kid who’s relearning the wonder of the holiday. For the last fifteen years, I’ve given him tradition and memories he’s never had. He never had a Christmas tree, he never carved a pumpkin, he never coloured eggs until he joined my family. When I’m a scrooge, I do a disservice to him. I do a disservice to my kids who deserve to have the warm memories that have sustained me through lots of crap.
We do gifts, but overall, I don't buy into the commercialism of Christmas. I don't spend November and December on the hunt for the perfect gifts. But I do a lot of special things to make memories that will last a lifetime.
Children: The kids brought home their 5th fundraiser of the school year and that’s not counting the Boy Scout popcorn drive! Homework avoidance 2 on the standard 1-10 scale of homework perfection.
Loads of laundry: 0
Words Written: 1000
Thursday, November 15, 2007
I’ve discovered the last few years that doing that is not as easy as it sounds. I mean…some people are just bubbling over with Christmas mirth and really when I’m all scroogified I want to shove them into holiday traffic. This year I’m going to try to be less of a scrooge. I’m starting early. I think that’s probably the key.
Right now, I’m cuddled up on the couch, sipping a Starbucks' peppermint mocha and listening to Carol of the Bells (my favourite). The entire CD is different versions of Carol of the bells. You’d think that would get boring but there are so many different variations that they all sound different. It’s a lovely backdrop to the day. The temperature is dropping and there’s a promise of snow this afternoon. I’m actually hoping the weather report is accurate. I’d like to see some big puffy snowflakes.
Children: Growing up faster than I can believe. My oldest is quickly becoming involved in extracurricular activities. He wants to—gulp—go to a school dance. Homework avoidance 2 on the standard 1-10 scale of homework perfection.
Loads of laundry: 2
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
The cover was a good way to top off the first full day of feeling better. This awful, rotten cold has played a terrible cat and mouse game with wellness for eight days, but today, finally, I have my energy back and feel well. It’s nice to mark more than ‘breathe’ off my to-do list. Trust me, sleeping and trying to breathe were just about the only tasks of the last eight days. Calling this a cold is an understatement I guess. Thank goodness it’s over. I can say I’ve gotten the year’s “one big sickness” behind me and go on illness-free. And get back to work!
I hate not working. Let me put this in perspective… I work at home. So my uniform is usually pyjamas or jeans. Brushing my hair is optional until 3:15 when I’m off to get the kids from school. I guess, then, it goes without saying that I eschew make-up and nylons. *SHUDDER* An easy life you might say, BUT as I write this, it’s 11:06 PM. I started work at 8:30 AM. Other than four hours away from my computer, I’ve been working non-stop. This is the norm for me. Seven days a week. I’ll knock off in about an hour.
My office is the corner of the living room couch where I can effectively supervise homework and mediate arguments. Oh, I have a real office, downstairs away from the commotion. The couch “office” is a compromise so I’m accessible. The kids don’t care what I’m doing as long as they can see me and ask questions… I like that I can hear what they’re doing/watching/listening to and stop them from raiding the kitchen, too. Of course the main share of my time off-line is between school dismissal and bedtime.
But I need to work. I love what I do. I tell you, this summer when I was away supervising Boy Scout camp for a week, with no cell or internet service, I nearly went into severe withdrawal. You might as well have cut off my fingers. Sure I found stuff to do, but I discovered quickly exactly how deep my addiction is.
It’s truly a sign of how sick I was that I barely blogged the last week. I barely responded to blogs or emails. I only checked my work email account and only dealt with the direly urgent. I couldn’t work because I couldn’t focus. I turned off my computer and slept eighteen to twenty hours a day.
I hate being sick like that. I’m so glad I can get back to work.
Children: Both living despite rumours that their status might change. Homework avoidance 8 on the standard 1-10 scale of homework perfection.
Loads of laundry: 4
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
Now I’ll cut to the chase and get to the final book in the Camouflaged Hearts anthology. It’s from my critique partner and best friend, Bronwyn Green. It’s a beautiful story set in WWII Wales—and I’m not saying that because I’m biased. I don’t put icing on no junk, lol. It’s good. Really good. As a matter of fact, it’s sky-rocketed to my favourite read this year. Bronwyn has based the opening on how her grandparents met, but the rest, she’s quick to point out, is all her. Her grandparents never shared the hot bits. My opinion…probably a good thing.
When David disappears without a word, Moira is left to wonder, if a passion that burned so bright was nothing more than a pleasant diversion or if they actually can salvage a relationship from the ruins.
She glanced around the street. “Here?”
Camouflaged Hearts is available for sale from Monday 12th November.
Erotic Rating Total-e-burning
Genre Action/Adventure, Ménage à Trois, Historical WWII
Book Length Anthology
Monday, November 12, 2007
Ah yes, here we have the spectacular mini dress, perfect for a night out on the town with your randy man.
And now, we have these... um, what are they Fred? Pantaloons? Perfect for wearing beneath your naughty Little House on the Prairie dress.
For a more traditional look, we have this dress complete with a lovely flower design and fan. The fan may come in handy because it can't be particularly cool beneath all that latex.
And now the icing on the cake. The perfect wedding dress and the bride is well prepared for the wedding night too.
And now another feature from the Camouflaged Hearts anthology. Today's author is SL Major with her story Double Time. Here's the blurb:
Well, it is for a good cause, Micah Collins tells herself. Queen and Country and all that, even if her suggestion is a bit over the top…
Micah offers big money for the local military fundraiser if she can purchase the services of two of England's finest soldiers.
And who could be better than devilishly handsome captain Trent Williams and sexy-as-sin captain Clayton Blackwell to help her get rid of the pesky problem of her virginity? Since it's just for the weekend, Clayton and Trent, mates since university, agree to the unknown woman's odd request, not realizing they'll all get a lot more than they bargained for…
“Absolutely not.” Captain Trent Williams’s fingers formed a death-grip around the pint of beer on the table in front of him. Jaynie, his younger sister’s best friend, could beg and cajole all night long. But he wasn’t budging. “I am not fucking a woman I’ve never met. No matter how long I’ve been in the desert.” Or how horny he was. He had morals and scruples to go along with his hard dick.
“It’s only for two days,” Jaynie shouted above the noise.
Clayton, his mate since university, hid his laugh by taking a deep swig from the amber liquid in his mug. What the hell was a best friend for, anyway, if not to laugh his ass off when his mate was faced with female disaster?
It was no accident that she’d invited him and Clayton to a public place that served up loud, throbbing music, cocktail waitresses in short, short skirts, and lots and lots of beer. Get him liquored up, that would be Jaynie’s plan, and then move in for the kill.
She batted her baby blues hopefully. “Please, Trent? It’s for a good cause. Promise.”
“It’s always for a good cause. Last time it was posing for a calendar with a puppy.”
“And we raised a mint for the dog shelter.”
Unfortunately for her and this week’s charity, he was wiser than he’d been last time he was home. And he’d made sure not to drink more than a pint.
“Sorry, love. You’ll have to find some other bloke.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Blokes.” She repeated. “The lady in question specifically requested you…” Jaynie had the good grace to flush with embarrassment before glancing at the table. “And Clayton.”
Trent looked at his comrade.
“Wait. Both of us?” Clayton asked.
“She doesn’t just want me? She wants…?” Trent trailed off, snapping his mouth shut. Jaynie was a harebrained mastermind, but this? She might as well have dropped an IED in the middle of the room.
“Yes. And she’s willing to pay for it. Uh, for you. Willing to pay for both of you. Handsomely, I might add.” She smiled sunnily, her embarrassment apparently forgotten. “Did I mention it’s for a good cause?”
“Jesus, Jaynie,” Clayton said. Beer sloshed over the rim of his glass. “Trent’s right. You’re out of your mind.”
“Not so funny now, is it, mate?”
“What kind of woman pays for sex with a stranger?” Clayton asked.
“Not a stranger,” she corrected. “Two of them. Actually, you both have quite the reputation in town, so it’s not as if you’re an unknown. Actually, I wish I’d thought of it myself. I’d have bought you in a heartbeat.”
Clayton choked on a drink of beer. Trent smacked him on the back.
“It was the calendar,” Jaynie said, going on as if neither had spoken. “Mr. July.” She nodded to Trent. “Hot enough to sizzle for summer. And Mr. December.” She grinned at Clayton. “Cool as ice. In fact…” She reached into her handbag and pulled out a cheque book. She uncapped a ballpoint pen, then started to scrawl her signature on the bottom line.
Trent’s blood heated to a slow boil. “We are not sleeping with you, Jaynie.”
“Or the mystery woman,” he added.
She pouted. “Ten thousand pounds.”
“Ten thousand…” Clayton trailed off.
“And it’s all or nothing. She gets both of you, or she wants neither. Think about it.” She dropped her pen and curled her hand around Trent’s wrist. “No one will ever know.”
“Not like the damn calendar,” Clayton grumbled.
“Ten thousand quid to benefit John MacDougal’s family.”
“Fuck.” John MacDougal’s family. He’d served in the Middle East with John. Fine man. Fine soldier. With three-year-old twins. Fuck. Trent took a long drink from his beer. “That’s low, Jaynie, even for you.”
“I didn’t make the offer,” she said, softly. The teasing was gone. Nothing but the weight of a fallen comrade shrouded the table. Even the music seemed to recede.
They all knew John and Susan. Jaynie had gone to school with the couple. He and Clayton knew John from the Army. Trent remembered that the man had carried a picture of the twin girls and his wife in his pocket, tucked inside a small Bible. Fuck.
“What does she want us to do?”
At Clayton’s question, Trent raised a brow.
“She’s willing to send a car for you on Friday, around tea time. You’ll be returned on Sunday, most likely in the afternoon, if that suits you. You could probably negotiate a longer stay if needed.” She smiled sweetly, innocently. She was neither, Trent knew.
“That wasn’t my question,” Clayton said.
“Oh, the usual, I suppose.” She waved a hand dismissively. “Whatever it is that two men do when they get a sexy woman in bed.”
“Sexy?” Clayton asked.
Trent shouldn’t have clapped Clayton on the back. He should have boxed the man’s ears. The idea was preposterous. Outrageous.
“Sexy,” Jaynie repeated.
“So why is she paying for a fuck?” Trent asked.
“You’re being crude, Captain.”
“Answer Clayton’s question, Jaynie.”
“I didn’t ask. I took the money and ran.”
Very carefully, he enunciated each word. “You took the money?”
“Oh. Uhm. Well…”
He let her dangle from the noose of her own words.
“I knew you wouldn’t say no, not when you knew it was for Susan and the wee babies.” This time, she appealed to Clayton. Smart woman. “You like don’t have to touch each other. Just her. I think.”
“What the hell?” Trent demanded.
She ignored him and continued to look at Clayton. “You could even take turns. One of you in her bedroom at a time. Wear a condom if you want.”
“Jaynie,” Trent warned.
“Ten thousand quid,” she said again. “Not for you, for the MacDougals.”
“Susan needs it,” Clayton reminded Trent. “And we always said we’d do what we needed to in order to help out.”
He looked from Clayton to Jaynie, and then back again. They had both lost their collective minds. The calendar was beginning to look as if it had been one of her better ideas.
“She’s John’s widow, Clayton.” Jaynie stroked the back of Clayton’s hand and ignored Trent. “No commitments or obligations. You’ll be making the generous donor happy as well as helping Susan and the children.”
Trent brought his fist down on the table. All three beer mugs jumped. “Forget it.”
“I’m in,” Clayton said.
Trent blinked. “You’re what?”“It’s for a good cause, mate. Queen and country and all that.”
Saturday, November 10, 2007
Anyway, I wonder if the person who bought the museum’s collection intends to continue it. I’d go check it out. I’m always up for a new adventure, I mean, I went to the Conspiracy Museum in Dallas.
Going on with my book feature, I’d like to share another excerpt. It has nothing to do with Elvis or conspiracy and everything to do with Total-e-bound’s anthology benefiting military families, Camouflaged Hearts. Today’s author is Jennah Sharpe.
In the Arms of a Pilot
She found the touch she missed in another pilot, but the guilt could prove too much to bear.
The day was warm enough to need a hat for sunshade but cool enough that I wrapped my navy cardigan around my shoulders.
Friday, November 9, 2007
Despite the guest blogs I’ve done on Demystifying Men over at http://www.totalebound.blogspot.com/, there are some things I will never understand about men. I’ll start with the obvious:
What the heck is it with the remote? I’d like to say guys and the remote is a stereotype, but unfortunately, it’s not. Seriously, it doesn’t matter if it’s my husband or one of my two boys. They have to have the remote in their hand. They have a complete inability to watch TV or a DVD if they can’t find it. I mean, heaven forbid that, oh I don’t know, they push the buttons on the television and DVD player. It’s tough, I know it, but it’s not impossible guys.
Inability to Find Things
This should be coupled with the inability to put away anything. Most of the time, I’ll admit, I’ve gotten in the habit of leaving their stuff where it drops until I can catch them and make them put it away. Or unless someone is coming over—that trumps everything. Still, I am the only one who knows the whereabouts of: shoes, coats, the laundry room, wallets, backpacks, books, the kitchen sink, the trashcan, etc. I’ll admit that ticks me off. I’ve been training my kids on the picking up their trash and laundry since they were old enough to pick up stuff and walk, yet they can’t. I shouldn’t be surprised. The oldest Why chromosome in the house can’t either.
Inability to Keep Track of Schedules
My husband actually has the nerve to call me his walking calendar and his cruise director. He can’t make any plans without me. He can’t or won’t make his own doctor appointments. He can’t remember them let alone anything that is scheduled for the kids or at church or family obligations. And even though I tell his twelve times he still can’t remember. Maybe I should tell him thirteen… I tell you, if I did, he’d accuse me of nagging. It’s a fine line we walk. Fine line.
What is it about the phone? It looks a lot like a remote, yet they can’t use it. Not to call the doctor. Not to call a store. Not to call to get movie times. Not to call his mother. Or answer. My husband can be right beside the phone and not answer it. It’s like he has a huge aversion to touching it. I write this mentioning my husband, but I’ve witnessed it with scores of men. I don’t get it.
On a side note, though, men seemed to love cell phones… I am honestly flummoxed by the whole thing. If I got rid of my home phone and we only used cells… I wonder what would happen.
People have mentioned other guy foibles to me but I’ve skipped those because mine doesn’t do them. I do have a pretty good one. And even most of the things above, I just take as par for the course. They just confuse me. They’re just another page in the Why Chromosome book.
Now, I’m delighted to share an excerpt from one of the stories in the Camouflaged Hearts anthology. This story is by the delightful Aliyah Burke who writes this story with the knowledge of what it is to be a Navy wife. Her perspective adds a reality to the story that might otherwise be missing.
A Marriage of Convenience
A Naval pilot, a one night stand and years later a second chance, can they make it work this time?
Pharmacological student, Ayanna Barker, was working hard to give her and her son a good life. Sure, things were tight, but it was all worth it. The man who had given her her child has also given her the best night of her life…and she had never forgotten him.
US Navy pilot Lieutenant Michael Taylor loved the rush his job gave him but even that took a back seat to how he felt about the lovely Ayanna Barker, but circumstances keep them apart. Four years later Michael sees her at a different military institution. Ayanna is more beautiful than his vivid memories had recalled her to be, but now she has a child…she has his child. Determined to be a part of her life, and his sons, Michael moves them in to his home and marries her. Each day reawakened emotions burn hotter and hotter as they try and keep things under control.
But can Michael and Ayanna realise what they share is so much more than just a marriage of convenience?
Michael Taylor had been talking on his cell phone when he’d stepped into the busy beer tent line. A jostle from behind had almost shoved him into the woman in front of him. His hand had swiped across the bottom of her back and in that second, everything else had faded away. Electrical currents had showered him. The second her soulful brown eyes had landed on his, it was as if he’d just hit mach one in his jet.
He’d stood still as her eyes had travelled hungrily over him. Part of him had wanted to preen while more of him had wanted to lift her up, carry her away from everyone and kiss her senseless. And keep going from there.
What the hell am I thinking? I don’t know this woman, but damn if I don’t want to.
She wore a purple open-backed shirt that perfectly offset the nutmeg hue of her skin and a pair of hip hugging black jeans. He saw sandals on her feet and if he moved his head just so, he could see the dark purple on her toenails.
While their physical connection was over almost immediately, the ardent impression still lingered between them. He wasn’t blind to the desire swirling in her eyes no matter how she tried to pretend indifference.
Paying for her beer along with his, it seemed only natural to settle his large palm against the smooth, dark skin of her back as they left the overcrowded beer tent.
He had no problem following her. The gentle scent on her skin reached out and wound around him, making him yearn for more of her. He craved to find out if her perfume was just around her neck or if the tempting smell went all the way to her feet.
When she stopped to allow a group of people to pass, he leaned forward and murmured, “Michael,” into her ear.
Her head turned, positioning her full tempting lips a hairsbreadth from his, and she whispered, “Ayanna.”
He kissed her. He had no choice. Her mouth had teased him as it formed her name and challenged him to sample her lips. She tasted divine.
The innocent kiss quickly evolved into something more. Michael hungered for all that this woman offered. He dominated the kiss, using his tongue to sweep throughout the recesses of her mouth.
His cock swelled and dug into her side as Michael plundered her mouth. He groaned his pleasure as the kiss lengthened.
The roar of jets in the sky rumbled around them and put a miniscule distance between their bodies as he struggled for restraint.
Ayanna’s lips were swollen from the force of their kiss.
“I want you,” he stated bluntly as he watched the rapid rise and fall of her chest. She ran her tongue over her lips.
“Yes,” she breathed huskily.“After the show.” Taking her hand, he led her to a vacant spot on the ground. They watched the show like any other couple, holding hands, exchanging kisses, and occasionally staring into each other’s eyes. As the park had begun to empty after the show, Michael kept one muscled arm around her, anchoring them together. They’d stopped at the entrance. Pressing her against the cool wall of a ticket booth, Michael ran his hands through her short hair. Strong legs settled on either side of her thin body, eliminating any means of escape.
Thursday, November 8, 2007
November is poppy month, the time of the year when we wear ared poppy in memory of those who laid down their lives for our sakes
As Remembrance Sunday approaches, to pay tribute to our brave soldiers and those they’ve left behind, Total-e-Bound release our tribute anthology.
Total-e-bound wanted to do something to show our own real brave warriors—who fight to defend us and their countries every day—just how much their bravery means to us.
Being an ex-army wife myself, and having been brought up with the forces as a child, I know what it’s like for the families when the soldiers go off to war. The pain, emotion and worry those families endure, never knowing if their loved ones will come home.
I also know of their strength and courage in the face of adversity, and I know just how much the forces wives band together to create a solid and structured support network for each other, the likes of which you just don’t get in civilian life. But for sadly far too many, the pain and hardship goes on way beyond the scope of support networks and memorial parades, news reports and flag waving. As the years pass and the world moves on—news reports become historical texts. Memories fade for many but for some the pain is silent and deep, very real and enduring.
A forces life is not an easy one for the families waiting back home, but they are the backbone—the glue that holds it all together.
So for this anthology, we wanted to give something back. Give something to the wives and families who endure and who have loved and lost.
Total-e-Bound’s profits from this anthology will be going to Forces Benevolent Funds to support and help those families who have lost their husbands and wives, fathers and mothers, sons and daughters, in the recent conflicts.
Remember to wear your poppy with pride.
Our authors involved in this anthology would also like to say a few words as to why they decided to get involved in this project:
The opportunity to partner with Total-e-Bound for such a wonderful cause was a chance I didn’t wish to miss. While I am an author, first and foremost I am a Navy wife so if there was a way my writing could help families who have lost loved ones during these current conflicts, I knew I had to give it a shot. Military families are very often overlooked and I thank TEB for doing such a charity and allowing me to be a part of it.
I chose to participate in the Camouflaged Hearts anthology primarily due to the energy that evolved around the discussions and emails concerning this project. It just seemed right and meaningful. When I began the story, it took on its own voice and I loved writing about Emmy's journey. I hope you all enjoy!
I have several family members who have served in the military, and I’ve seen first-hand, the struggles that military families endure as their soldiers are deployed. Participating in this anthology felt like tangible way to help in a situation where I’ve often felt helpless. In addition, I’ve also seen how love can flourish during these times, and I wanted to show that it’s possible for something beautiful to arise from the horror of war.
I was thrilled by the opportunity to participate in the Camouflaged Heart anthology from Total-e-Bound. What a magnificent idea for a publisher to donate their profits to charity...and I wondered, how could I do less?
My daughter, you see, fell in love with a soldier. It was a wild, thrill of a ride, heightened by the realization he would be deploying to Iraq within weeks of their meeting.
When he returned safely, they married, a fairytale event in a local park, a hurried event before their move to Texas.
We're among the lucky. CJ has, thankfully, been safe. But as we know, a great number of his comrades have not been.
Whit and my beautiful grandbaby live with the knowledge that time is precious, that every moment with CJ is to be cherished.
I've seen amazing bravery as they each watch the calendar tick toward the date of the next deployment.
In honor of the brave service people throughout the world, I am proud to donate every penny of my earnings to charity, as well.
Camouflaged Hearts is available for sale from Monday 12th November.
Erotic Rating: Total-e-burning
Genre: Action/Adventure, Ménage à Trois, Historical WWII
Book Length: Anthology
Wednesday, November 7, 2007
Monday, November 5, 2007
It must annoy Hormel Foods who makes canned "Shoulder Pork and hAM" or "SPiced hAM" luncheon meat, that the term "spam" has today come to mean network abuse. Most people have some kind of recollection of the spam skit by Monty Python's Flying Circus. In the sketch, a restaurant serves all its food with spam. Lots of it. The waitress says the word several times. Then a group of Vikings in the corner start a song: "Spam, spam, spam, spam, spam, spam, spam, spam, lovely spam! Wonderful spam!"
This is good enough for me. So… the meaning of the term at least seems to be something that keeps repeating over and over. Like Viagra emails. But that’s not all… They haven’t nicknamed me Web for nothin’.
Did you know 88% of all email sent is spam. That’s amazing. And here I thought I sent a ton of email. 183 billion spam emails were sent every day in 2006. This resulted in 29.9 million work hours used to delete those annoying emails. Believe it of not, the first spam was sent via email in 1978—was that when Al Gore invented the internet? The term spam however was not birthed until the late 80s and can be partially attributed not to Monty Python but to Dungeons and Dragons. Fwuh? Dungeons and Dragons?
There used to be something called MUD. That’s Multi-User Dungeon. It was an archaic system of chat and interaction. It was used for more than Dungeons and Dragons, but users were reminded of a D&D dungeon… It lent it’s name to MUD because using it was such an adventure. Anyway, spamming came to mean flooding the system with a bunch of inserted text—basically interrupting operations. Spamming as in constant repeated action that annoys the recipient. A common tactic in D&D, by the way.
The first spam, sent in 1978 was from a user inviting all west coast users of a particular system to a reception in California to introduce their new system. Interestingly, that company is now owned by Compac. That bit of spam is a far cry from the trash littering my email. The first major spam was documented as being sent in 1994. That message announced “Global Alert: Jesus is Coming Soon”. Now that message hasn’t changed at all. I believe, I got one of those today, and by the way, I don’t think He’d be impressed by the porn emails hitting my spam box. I promise. Not. My. Fault.
By the way, Hormel has decided to embrace the moniker foisted on the unwanted email since it's actually boosted sales of their merchandise.
There now...don't you feel just a little smarter?
Friday, November 2, 2007
In case the title makes you wonder, All Chained Up a BDSM romance. It’s also the second in a series. The first was On Your Knees. This book is about Ryan’s brother Theo. Theo appears in the first book. In fact, one of the early scenes in this book is a duplicate of a scene in On Your Knees. The difference is that in the first book, it was from the perspective of the heroine of that book. In this story, it’s from Theo’s perspective. Same dialogue and action, but very different scenes.
So… here’s a look at my upcoming book: All Chained Up (Ellora’s Cave, November 7, 2007)
On the run from a stalker, Keera has carefully hidden her attraction to Theo, knowing surrender to her lust isn’t an option. She can’t put him in danger. Theo, however, is determined to take the choice from her hands.
For months, he’s studied her and he has a few secrets of his own. The biggest is his D/s lifestyle. He’s a Dom without a submissive, but he’s not interested in anyone but Keera.
After a surprise night of passion, she consents to be his. But one minute she’s there, the next she’s gone and on the run again. Theo is determined to bring her back to his side where he can protect her. Then he’ll keep her there forever, wrapped in the chains of his love.
Keera rubbed her wrists and glanced over at the tarot cards piled on the bedside table. The four of wands was flipped over, winking at her. Regret filled her. This time she was leaving everything. Theo. Her only refuge. Her most precious keepsake from her mother.
She glared at that card. Romance, freedom from what bound her and refuge from the turmoil in her life? Yeah, right. Obviously, her mother was the only one with any card reading ability. Keera had gotten it all wrong.
She looked at Theo, knowing if circumstances were different, he could be the man to provide all the things promised by the tarot card.
“I’ll be right back,” she choked.
Liar, liar, liar. Someday, if this was ever over, she’d explain to him.
Before she melted into a wallowing spineless heap, she headed for the bathroom on the sure feet of one who’d walked these floors hundreds of times. She couldn’t be weak. Despite the dark, she closed the bathroom door and shut out the illumination from the flickering candles. She didn’t need it. The window here didn’t have a curtain and moonlight flooded the bathroom. Slowly, she turned the door’s lock, careful to keep it from clicking.
Immediately, she went to the glass and looked outside. She knew this beach and the surrounding woods well enough. If she got a head start on Theo, she’d be well hidden before he discovered she’d escaped.
Unlatching the window, she pushed up the wood. It creaked. Loudly. Urgently, she shoved it up and dove through the unscreened opening. Hopefully, he hadn’t heard the screech. Yeah right. His yell, followed by the pounding on the door and the rattle of the doorknob, confirmed her fear.
She’d better run fast.
Rolling to her feet, she dashed across the sucking sand. Behind her Theo bellowed her name, the sound caught in the wind and nearly drowned by the crashing waves. She didn’t slow as she headed for the trees beyond the rise of sand. Dodging a stand of rocks, she hit firmer ground and gained speed.
She didn’t dare look back and hoped her head start would be enough. Damn that swollen wood for announcing her departure.
Suddenly, Theo crashed into her back, arms locking around her waist. He twisted as they went to the ground and took the brunt of the impact. In one smooth motion, he flipped her onto her back and rolled over her.
“Ow,” she griped.
He glared down at her, the moon reflecting on the fury flicking in his eyes. “You have no idea.”
He didn’t wait for her consent or cooperation. Angrily, he pushed her long T-shirt over her head and tossed the garment towards the waves. Her panties immediately followed. The waves worked with him, pulling the pieces of clothing out into the lake where they became irretrievable.
Panting she lay naked in his arms while he stared down at her. Lake Superior’s spray speckled his bare chest, reminding her of what it had been like when they’d both been damp after he’d fucked her repeatedly. Every remarkable inch of his muscled form pressed into her, reminiscent of what it had been to have him straining over her while they both rushed to completion. Her middle went soft and fluttery. Why did she have to want him so badly? Unconsciously, she lifted into him.
With a groan, Theo captured her lips. His tongue plunged deep inside, dominating her mouth as he dominated her body. His hands were everywhere setting her on fire. It seemed years since they’d parted, not a mere day. Urgently, he ripped at his clothes.
“You will not escape me,” he promised.
Children: If my son forgets his lunchbox one more time this year, he’s taking the Barbie lunchbox to school. Yes, this is standard torture at my house. It’s yet to happen, but the threat scares the tar out of even the most forgetful boys. I’m just hoping we won’t go through 8 pairs of gloves—each!!—this year. Homework avoidance an 8 on the standard 1-10 scale of homework perfection.
Laundry: 1 (I’m now calling the first load, my Amarinda load)
Words Written: 998
Thursday, November 1, 2007
I’m the good candy lady.
Then I joked that they couldn’t eat their candy until I’d inspected it because “there are some weird people who live around here.” And the oldest says, “Yeah, mom, you…” He’s so sweet.
Children: On a complete sugar buzz. Must remember to make dentist appointments tomorrow.