Ooops! I was supposed to have a guest today, but she must have forgotten all about me. So, very quickly, I’m posting a question. I love these, because you all cheerfully come to play. Now, I have to go pack!

What is the one attraction or place you’ve visited that didn’t live up to all its hype?

I forgot to post this morning. That almost never happens.

But it’s been busy here. Crazy busy. And I’m doing my best to keep up.

The books. Maybe if you saw what my writing schedule’s been like you’d understand.

What’s grayed out is what I’ve finished. And you can see what I have left to address by the end of the month. Ha! I’m doing my best to finish the BDSM novel by next week. The editor was kind enough to extend my deadline.

And then there’s the behind-the-scenes work my dd and I are doing to get The Emerald Casket up and running. We’ve been busy making inventory—mostly pendants and bracelets for now. The site is built, just needs a shopping basket. Soon, though. I’ve been Facebooking pieces I particularly love and the response has been wonderful.

And in the midst of all this, I have to leave Thursday morning to head to my sister’s in North Arkansas (4-hour drive), so that Friday morning we can drive to Omaha (7-hour drive) to give a plotting bootcamp to the RWA chapter there. I won’t be back at my desk until Tuesday, and then I have to hit it hard to finish up the BDSM project by end of week.

Did I mention that sis and I are conducting an online plotting bootcamp for the month of January too?

See why I might be a little forgetful? All this multi-tasking is making my head spin!

Anyway, just wanted to let you know what’s goin’ on and to tell you I have some wonderful guests lined up to keep you entertained while I’m gone. Send me good thoughts—and any energy you have lying around that you don’t need! 🙂  ~DD

Will Tying Them Up Tie Me Down?

Thanks, Delilah for hosting me! Not every day I get to hang out with a Penthouse Pet, lol.

I’ve noticed a very interesting bent in my romance heroes lately. The sci fi pirates and the contemporary alpha males in the 2 new series I’m writing. They, um, wanna tie women up.

Where the heck did that come from? I mean, I’ve been accused of writing BDsm in my Orion Series. Don’t really think that’s on the mark.

Okay, so Captain Steve Craig of Her Commander does use soft restraints on his spunky half-Serpentian guard Tessa. And maybe he captures her in the dark … once. But it’s all in good, sexy fun.

Oh, and maybe Commander Daron Navos in Deep Indigo does use mind-control on his intern, Nelah Cobalt, but she gets it. Kinda takes come hither to a whole new level.

Well, and so what if Tryon Jag in Tyger, Tyger, Burning Bryght demands that Calla be his submissive for the duration of his mating shift?

Oh, wait. I see where this is going now. Huh. I’ve been writing mild BDsm and didn’t realize it. (Note: Yes, I use caps on the BD and lower case on the sm ‘cause I consider the first part sexy and the second part not for me)

Of course my Hawaiian Heroes contemporary paranormal romance series is hot vanilla. And I’m sure I’ll do more romance without kink. After all, I don’t want to tie myself to just one sub-genre of romance.

But, in 2013, readers, hang on to your panties.

In The LodeStar Series, we’re taking a fast space ship to the newly settled planet of Frontiera, with space magnate Logan Stark and his two brothers. The three grew up rough, and now these alphas have one approach to life and sex—they’re in charge. Hmm, their feisty females may have something to say about that. Hope it’s ‘Yes!’

In Club 3, three alpha weightlifters from Portland Oregon who own a gym and fitness center decide that maybe, given their sexual need to dominate, they should open another kind of club. The kind that’s private and opens up when the sun goes down. Mm-hmm, that kind.

I’ll be self-pubbing LodeStar starting in winter 2013. Club 3 will debut with a digital first publisher. If you’d like to know when they come out, sign up for my Newsletter.  It’s easy, and will show up in your email box ONLY when I have a new book out.

Best,

Cathryn Cade

… red hot romance!

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Well, not in the way you usually expect when you imagine hearing those words! A story I wrote for Kristina Wright’s Duty and Desire collection for Cleis Press was picked up by Penthouse Magazine as a “Bedtime Story!”

I sent my daughter on a mission yesterday while I worked. You can’t find that magazine in any store in our nearby small town, so she went to Little Rock. Now, I don’t know if I mentioned my daughter is pregnant…? Well, anyway, she spotted a copy in Barnes and Noble in Little Rock in the “Men’s Interests” section of the magazine rack. She ended up having to climb two shelves and reach far into the back. If I’d been there, it would have been a YouTube moment.

The fun didn’t end there. I get the magazine and my mom sticks her head out of her office, “Where is it?”

I handed her the magazine and she’s pawing through the pages making faces until she gets to my story. I wonder how many authors have moms like that, huh?

Anyway, I’m sooooooo excited. It’s a 6-page spread with three very cool illustrations! Take a look!

So, the question I have is…

I know most fathers and mothers would groan if their daughters rushed through the door saying that. Looking back, can you imagine yourself ever doing that? Was there a boyfriend who might have made you a little wild and daring? Were you ever in that frame of mind where posing nude for publication would have been okay? Would you do it now?

Janice Hougland won the prize! Congrats, Janice! Send me an email to arrange delivery! ~DD

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Today’s Saturday Snippets have a common theme of emotion. Since I need to be ruthless like a warrior today (I’m nearing my deadline for a new full-length novel!), I chose the opening scene of the second of my “Vikings in Space” stories, Enslaved by a Viking. To me, there’s nothing more frightening or sexy than a man pushed to his limits. Poor Eirik is there. See the woman who will be the focus of his powerful anger. I love this scene. Loved writing this book. Someday, I hope to get back to my Vikings in a galaxy far, far away…

 Since I don’t have a downloadable copy of this book, I’ll offer a free download of another futuristic story I’ve written, Warlord’s Destiny. Post a comment today, and you’ll be entered to win it!

“Probably one of the most erotic openings I have encountered in a book…if readers are looking for a book with smoking hot sex and a really unique and fresh premise, this is it!” ~ Debbie’s Book Bag

His suffering….

Though proud and strong, Eirik, heir to the Ulfhednars kingdom, found himself seduced and taken from his homeworld by a bounty-hunting vixen, who sold him into slavery. Purchased by a wealthy, Consortium-backed brothel, he is kept at a heavily guarded and secure breeding facility, where he is forced to feed the lustful whims of Helios’s elite at night. He bides his time, waiting for a chance to escape and get his revenge on the woman who betrayed him…

Her satisfaction….

Once a sex thrall, Fatin earned her freedom through service. Now, as a bounty hunter, she is determined to earn enough to buy her sister’s papers from the same brothel she escaped. For this, she abducts a brutishly handsome, breed-worthy specimen from the Viking planet and delivers him to auction. But her desire for justice and his desire for freedom may consume both of them in a passion neither wanted—or can resist.

Eirik tried not to breathe too deeply. The rotten, sour smells of his dark, dank prison already made his skin stink. He didn’t want the awful stench inside his lungs or belly.

He hadn’t seen the other prisoners, not after they’d been herded like cattle through a chute once the hatch had been opened at the side of the ship and his keepers applied prods to their backsides to move them out in single file.

With only brief impressions of his new home, of searing heat and blinding, harsh sunlight, he’d shielded his arm over his eyes and stumbled down the gangway, through the iron-barred alley that disallowed any thoughts of escape.

He’d been led to this cell, deep inside an enormous stone building. A brief glimpse of an open arena, and then he’d been shoved down two flights of narrow stone steps.

Once they’d slammed the solid door and slid the eye-level window closed, he’d been left alone, no sounds penetrating his prison other than the hum of the light above him, and the sounds his own body made.

His thoughts drowned it all out, screaming inside him. He’d wanted to beat his fists against the door, rail at his captors, but he didn’t know if anyone watched him, and wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of knowing how close to abject despair he was coming.

Hel, he’d even suffer Fatin’s derision, her cold, calculating touch, just to feel or hear another human being. Read the rest of this entry »

I’m taking over Delilah Devlin’s Blog today (bwahahaha)!

First the introductions:

I’m A. M. Griffin, a wife who rarely cooks, mother of three, dog owner (and sometimes dog owned), a daughter, sister, aunt and friend. She’s a hard worker whose two favorite outlets are reading and writing. She enjoys reading everything from mystery novels to historical romances and of course fantasy romance. She is a believer in the unbelievable, open to all possibilities from mermaids in our oceans and seas, angels in the skies and intelligent life forms in distant galaxies. She has multi-publications in other genres under a different pen name.

When I was trying to come up with topics for today’s blog, the first thing that popped into my head was girl-on-girl sex.

Why? *shrugs* Cause it just did.

I never set out to have girl-on-girl action included in my new EC debut release Dangerously Mine, but for some strange reason it just happened.

You’ve probably heard a lot of authors talk about their characters as if they were alive and somehow had a mind of their own. I can honestly say that it’s true.

My character Princess Sa’Mya was supposed to be my heroine’s nemesis. I needed someone privileged, bitchy and irritating. Princess Sa’Mya is all that and more.

During one of my favorite scenes, Princess Sa’Mya was making Eva wash her hair. Yea, the privileged bitch characteristic was in full effect. Anyway, Princess Sa’Mya wanted to know why her betrothed, King Taio was more interested in the human Eva, rather than herself.

I had intended for Sa’Mya to be curious about a species that she had never encountered before. They were going to go back and forth with bitchy banter. You know the normal girl catfight stuff.

It was going perfectly as I intended it to until Sa’Mya reached out and touched Eva’s clit. Once that happened, it was like I couldn’t stop my fingers from flying with lightning speed across the computer keyboard.

I kept saying things like “This girl is such a freak!” and “Why is she doing that?” and of course, “Is she about to do what I think she’s about to do?”

My poor husband who was sitting next to me had this look on his face. Much like the same look you would give someone before having them committed to the Looney Bin.

The end result is hot as hell. So much so that in the follow-up book (which is Princess Sa’Mya’s story) there’s another girl-on-girl scene.

Mind you, my stories are all M/F sci-fi romance, but for some reason there’s just a freaky twist. Maybe that’s why I ended up with Ellora’s Cave, where my freakiness can be supported.

Here’s an excerpt:

“I wonder what he sees in you,” Sa’Mya said.

She leisurely skimmed the water’s surface with her fingertips. Recognizing a rhetorical question when she heard one, Eva didn’t respond. “I am offering him all of this.” Sa’Mya ran her wet hands down her voluptuous body.

Her double-D breasts hung ripe and full. Her neatly tapered waist led to full-sized hips, a round ass and, of course, long, shapely legs.

“You have the body of a child.” Sa’Mya sneered.

I could apply a small amount of pressure to her windpipe.

Clearly the princess didn’t know anything about fighting. Talking smack while your back is to an opponent was a no-no. Read the rest of this entry »

Just popping in to share some news. I’ve been a little quiet lately because I’ve been writing like my hair’s of fire, trying to wrap up a book that’s due next week. I have two short stories featured in two brand new Mammoth collections! If you’ve never read one of these massive volumes, you’re in for a treat. “Red Dawn” is a brand new story about a woman pioneer on Mars. The other is a story that first appeared in Cleis Press’s Carnal Machines. Enjoy the excerpts, then hit the links and see the fabulous lineup of authors in both books.

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Love conquers all… including natural disasters and alien invasions in this futuristic fiction collection.

Amazon | Barnes & Noble

From my story, “Red Dawn”…

The transport arrived amid a whirl of dust kicked up from the barren yard beside the house. The gritty air nearly obscured the moon, Phobos, as it made the first of several orbits for the day. The aircraft hovered, framed by the uneven curves of the asteroid, and then set down with a thud that shuddered the planks of her front porch, vertical engines stalling then shutting off altogether. The dust slowly settled.

She’d been sweeping, preparing the cabin for the transport’s arrival. As with every element of the Company’s schedule, it arrived precisely on time. Although prepared, a flutter of anticipation tickled her belly. She set aside the broom, wiped her palms against the sides of her sturdy blue work pants, and descended the stairs, eager to meet the shipment.

A man dressed in a gray Company coverall climbed out of the cockpit and strode toward her. She pasted on a smile. “Welcome.”

His sharp gaze swept her little cabin, the golden fields beyond it, and then finally rested on her. “You Mary Bledsoe?”

He likely wondered how someone of her stature had managed to pass the physical tests to qualify for farming. She stiffened her spine to add a few centimeters to her small, wiry frame, and met his gaze with her usual calm, chilly stare. “I am.” She bit back a sarcastic, Who else do you think I could be? Every one of the thousand colonists had been handpicked and transported by the Company—they had a monopoly on Martian transportation and industry.

His mouth twitched, but he kept his gaze steady. “I have your shipment, and I’ll need your signature on the bill of lading.”

She nodded. “I’ll need to inspect.” She’d received notice of the contents of the shipment via the comm-console situated in the cabin’s main room shortly after claiming her homestead.

Although the fields had been pre-planted and her new home fully furnished, there were still some items, especially the perishables, that needed stocking: replacement blades for the combine sheltered in the barn, pallets of foodstuffs, clothing and fuel packs…and her mate.

Trying not to appear overeager to see him, she waited as the transport commander’s crew scurried to let down the rear ramp and roll out the pallets. With well-trained efficiency, they stacked them beside the porch. She counted the pallets with their quick-wrapped goods, signed for delivery, and then shoved her hands into her pockets to hide the fact they were beginning to shake.

The commander’s mouth firmed into a straight line. “Did you receive training in the use of the B-Mod collar?”

He knew she had. Otherwise she wouldn’t be here, already in possession of a land grant.

She gave a curt nod. “Yes. I also signed saying I knew there were no guarantees for my safety or his willingness to work. If we don’t suit, if he proves stubborn, then I’ll return him.”

“Just don’t get too attached, ma’am. You have enough on your hands without coddling one of these rejects.”

The brusque quality of his voice surprised her. Was he truly worried? Should she be more concerned?

He handed her the chain with the controller for the prisoner’s behavior modification collar, a thin ID tag with a recessed button on one side, the B-Mod chip. She slipped it over her head and followed him to the side of the transport. The guard inside the vehicle opened the door.

The prisoner scooted on the seat toward the edge, hands still in manacles, then slid to the ground beside her.

Heartbeat rising, she gazed up into a face set in grim lines. Blue eyes, cold as ice, sparked with some deep emotion as he stared back.

He was larger than she had expected. Surprisingly so. Prisoners built like this one were generally shipped to Company loading docks or to the arena. Built like a gladiator, she studied his broad chest and wide shoulders. His arms and thighs were deeply muscled. “You’re sure he’s mine?” she asked, turning toward the commander who’d fished a key from his pocket to unlock the prisoner’s handcuffs.

The pilot’s grunt and the flinty glare he gave the prisoner said he too had some reservations. “His collar matches the invoice. Guess they thought you might need the extra muscle.”

Anger flashed at his comment. She’d had enough of men thinking she wasn’t up to the rigors of Martian prairie life.

Her hand still gripped the B-Mod chip. She let it slip slowly away, remembering her training. Show no fear. As long as she had the chip, she had control.

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The most enthralling annual collection of erotica by far with more than 40 pieces of short erotic fiction that you won’t want to put down. This bound-to-blow-your-mind collection comes from both acclaimed writers and exceptionally hot newcomers from every corner of the world.

Amazon | Barnes & Noble

From my story “Dr. Mullaley’s Cure”…

I’d been warned that the doctor was a bit eccentric. That he dabbled in machinery and had been ostracized by others in his profession for the lengths he went to please his patients.

“You’ll never find another employer,” I was told. “Not once they see your only reference is Doctor Mullaley.” The mad Irishman. The charlatan who promised cures to bored housewives and whose waiting room hadn’t been empty since I arrived for my first day’s work. If I hadn’t already been turned away at every other respectable physician’s practice, I might have heeded the advice. However, those warnings only served to stir my interest.

I was intensely curious about the nature of the doctor’s cures, and even more so about the conditions he treated, but they were only spoken of in whispers and never in the presence of an unmarried woman. Which made me wonder why he’d hired me. Not that I complained. One glance at his tall rangy frame, frosty blue eyes and dark, slicked-back hair, and my misgivings evaporated.

However, my curiosity about the man and his practice wasn’t to be satisfied at that moment because the doctor waved me toward the reception desk where I worked at fitting in patients who walked in without an appointment. A task I found akin to cinching in the waist of a corset. There was only so much ribbon one could pull before something gave.

That something was the inimitable Mrs. Davies. She arrived in a dudgeon. Cheeks flushed, eyes a little wild. It was a very balmy afternoon, and the painstaking curls at the sides of her cheeks had wilted and were stretching toward her jaw like earthworms. I couldn’t help staring while she tapped the counter with her finger insisting her needs were of the highest import. If she didn’t receive a treatment that afternoon, somebody would hear about it.

At wit’s end, I gave her a false smile, said I’d find the doctor, and escaped down the corridor to the treatment rooms.

The corridor was as handsomely appointed as the waiting room with rich oak paneling below the rail, and burgundy brocade above it. But gaslight sconces were placed so far apart that shadows loomed between the doorways.

I paused at the first room to listen, hoping to hear the low timbre of the doctor’s voice. Faint moans came through the door, but since they didn’t have an urgent edge, I hurried to the next and pressed my ear against the wood.

Hands curved over my shoulder. “Pardon me, Nurse Percy.” The doctor firmly pushed me to the side and strode into the room.

Glancing around his tall frame, I spotted Mrs. Headley who lay on a table that tilted with the lower half split in two.

My jaw sagged as I noted that while she was clothed in a sack-like gown, Mrs. Headley lay bared from the waist down, her legs strapped to the split “legs” of the table. Her fingers dug into padded handles at the sides. Most curious, there was a long, slender trough running from a tank latched to the ceiling, very like a toilet’s reservoir. The trough emptied into a funnel, which ran into a tube. The tube passed through a device with turning wheels that clicked like a clock’s inner gears, and then ended at a nozzle that spurted water in rhythmic pulses toward the juncture of Mrs. Headley’s thighs.

How odd, I thought.

Mrs. Headley moaned. Her gaze roved restlessly until she lighted on the doctor. “Please, Raymond, I can’t take much more. I’m very sure I’m ready for the next stage of my treatment.”

The doctor stood between me and Mrs. Headley so I couldn’t see what he did, but then he aimed a frown over his shoulder. When he turned back, I entered the room and shut the door behind me, staying quiet as a mouse. He turned off the nozzle. The rhythmic splashes stopped, but wet slurping sounds filled the silence.

“I feel…nearly…oh, the agony…oh, doctor!” Mrs. Headley gave a choked little scream, her upper body arching on the table before settling again. Her flushed cheeks shone with sweat, but the smile she gave the doctor was so filled with gratitude I felt a stirring of something akin to pride for the doctor’s skill.