Thank you, Delilah, for letting me visit you today. I have been very busy since the last time I was here. I added another Granddaughter, and became the caretaker to my sister. Both are wins in my book. Another little girl to spoil, and I get to have one of my sisters with me all the time. Every writer knows that life can truly get in the way of our time to write, and mine truly did, but I decided to cut back on some things so I could get a few stories written, so I gave up a few hours of sleep each night and it paid off. I published my first story, Saving Angel, in October 2012, then, Rescued From the Dark, February 2013 a short story, The Christmas Contract, in December 2013 and I just received a contract from Black Opal Books for my Young Adult, If I Knew Then. Now I’m sure your asking yourself, what does all this have to do with taking a new path.
As you can see by my book titles I’ve written different genres. My first story, Saving Angel, is an animal rescue, Mystery, Suspense. Rescued from the Dark is a Romantic Suspense. The Christmas Contract, is a contemporary and, If I Knew Then, is a Young Adult. My favorite genre to write is Romantic Suspense, but I love to try new things, some I’m good at, others not so good.
For example, I have a paranormal story, but my mind just can’t seem to wrap itself around the world of a shapeshifter. I also have a fantasy about a royal family battling the evils in different realms. That also has issues with believability. I suck at coming up with names for different worlds. But that’s not the road I was talking about.
I’ve always wanted to write an erotic story, but every time I tried my Catholic School days would come back to haunt me. I had little Nuns on my shoulder slapping the back of my head chanting, get those evil thoughts out of your mind. I know, sounds like I need a support group.
But I persevered and wrote a short erotic story filled with smoking hot cowboys. Now I still had the Nun issues, that’s why I wrote a short story, I only needed to have a few sex scenes. And It wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be. The story is called, Leather Chaps and Forgotten Promises.
Now for another virgin path I’m going to go down. This story will be my first self published book. I feel that if we want to succeed, we must not be afraid to try new things, even if we’re not that good at them.
So wish me luck as I try my hand at new things, and don’t be afraid to venture down those unchartered paths in your life. You just might find out what you use to fear, is your new love.
Leather Chaps and Forgotten Promises
Jack Logan grew up with Lace. She was his best friend and always there for him. The shoulder to lean on when he needed advice and the body he craved to heat up his nights. His life was perfect until Amy returned to town. The one girl who stole his heart, then walked away. When Amy makes her intentions clear to start back up where they left off does Jack go after the one love that got away, or lose the one true person in his life who has always been there.
If I Knew Then, Young Adult
Angel fought to keep her family safe from the evil that threatened to destroy her. She made sure she was always the one in front of her sisters when her Mother yielded her wrath. Keeping the danger that surrounded them a secret, she lived a lie that everyone believed, except for one. He was her only source of happiness until one day he was gone. With nothing left, and no one to turn to, she must outrun her past, and overcome the secret that she fights to hide, before her Mother destroys everything she has left to hold on to.
Rescued From the Dark, Romantic Suspense
She has no memory of their love…
Kidnapped by terrorists and sent into a drug-induced coma, FBI intern Mercedes Kingsley awakes with no memory of her ordeal—or the intimate interlude that left her pregnant. Convinced her child was fathered by her ex-fiancé, she walks away from the only man she has ever loved, determined to make things work with her ex, a man the FBI suspects is implicated in her abduction.
He knows the truth, but no one will listen…
FBI undercover agent Jason Michaels remembers what Mercy can’t, and those memories are breaking his heart. Forced to keep his distance from his lover and their unborn child, Jason risks his life to protect Mercy from a cell of international terrorists who have vowed to get the secrets locked in her memory, no matter the cost. Can Jason convince Mercy to trust him until she remembers their past, or will he lose her to a man who will trap her in a nightmare world of darkness from which there is no escape?
I’m an avid reader of romantic suspense and started writing after a vivid dream. I know, sounds cliché, but that’s how it started. I work full time at a Cardiology clinic, then at night you will find me in front of my computer. I grew up in Pennsylvania, but now live in Arkansas, surrounded by the Ozark mountains where I get to enjoy the four seasons without a long, cold winter. Other than spending time with my wonderful family, my favorite things to do are writing, reading and listening to music, but my most favorite is going to the beach. Surf, sand and a good book, my stress relief.
Thank you for stopping by. For purchase information on my books visit my blog, or website below.
1) Don’t forget to vote for your choice of theme for upcoming collections. I’m playing with the ideas I posted and trying to come up with proposals that will appeal as much as Cowboy Heat! All you have to do is show up and vote! Take the Poll!
2) Also, remember that I am running a contest all month on my blog. I’ll choose a commenter at random to receive an Amazon gift card, so don’t be shy about leaving little love notes for the authors you see here! 🙂
Thanks so much for everyone who supported me by buying Reined In! I love my Lone Star Lovers series! Here’s a nibble from one of those stories…
If you post a comment today, you’ll be entered to win a free copy of this story!
“Ms. Devlin’s writing is so well done that the experience was seamless. I will definitely be looking for more of Ms. Devlin’s books for my ‘keeper shelf’… TWO WILD FOR TEACHER is highly recommended reading for a quick escape.”
5 Stars and Book of the Month, Long and Short Reviews
It’s double the trouble when two ornery cowboys come courtin’, Texas-style…
Sam Logan’s hell-raising twin sons have a bad rep in Two Mule, Texas. All of it earned. When it becomes clear those two troublemakers won’t settle down without another nudge—make that a boot to their butts—Sam reissues his challenge. Find a wife.
There’s only one woman who’s ever held Mace and Jason Logan’s attention for more than one night. Molly Pritchet, their former teacher. She’s been too worried about a pesky morals clause to let them close, but they’re older now and ready to prove to her that some rules are meant to be broken.
Molly thought her path was clear: always a teacher, never a mother or a wife. Until she finds those two Logan “boys” in her backyard, all grown up and digging around in her business. More accurately, starting her koi pond for her without asking. Well, it’s about time someone taught the Logan twins some manners.
A little mud, a lot of yearnings she thought she’d suppressed, and Molly realizes she’s the one being schooled in the art of indulging in forbidden desires.
Warnings: Two hot-as-sin twins romance their former high school teacher. Things are bound to get down and dirty quick as two bad boys tag team to sweep one curvy, sexy woman off her feet.
Molly felt more herself as she took a long, cool shower. She stood under the showerhead and let the water beat her head, long enough her toes were wrinkled and her mind was blank.
However, her traitorous body was slow to let go of the arousal both men had stoked. As she slicked rose-scented soap over her skin, she massaged her heavy breasts, pinching the tips now and then to keep them throbbing. She slid a hand between her parted legs and glided fingers between her folds, felt the ripened nub at the top and swirled around and around it until her breath caught and held.
She rubbed a moment longer, but fingers weren’t enough. Hers were too soft, too slender. She craved something substantial pushing up inside her. Damn them.
Breathing hard, she turned the tap to add a distinct chill to the water, then pressed both hands against the tiled wall. At last her heart slowed to its usual, unnoticeably steady beat. She switched off the cool water and reached for the fluffy towel hanging from a peg beside the door. She held it to her face, drying her eyes and cheeks, and inhaling the reassuring fragrance of the springlike conditioner she used in her wash.
Nothing teased her senses. Not a whiff of male cologne or musk.
Now, she was ready to start her summer. And she had plans. This year, she’d put in more flowers, maybe dig a bit in the backyard and put in the koi pond, something she’d dreamed about doing and had already begun to assemble the things she’d need to complete the project. On her salary, it was a splurge, but it wasn’t like she didn’t have the money in the bank to handle it.
Fact was, she was a frugal woman with modest needs. She didn’t spend a lot on clothes, did her own nails, and other than a trim a couple of times a year, didn’t spend it at the beauty shop. Her house was finished to her liking. However, her yard, especially the backyard, was in need of a little TLC to make it a perfect haven from the world.
She opened the towel and swung it behind her, rubbing her back and bottom then brought it forward to dry her breasts. The terrycloth abraded her nipples, just enough she was aware but not enough to excite. She’d had enough excitement for one day.
The twins had had their fun. Her mind almost got away from her when she thought about how they’d looked, standing in her bedroom doorway to peek inside.
Something no man had ever done. Not since she’d had her satellite dish and receivers installed had a man even traipsed up her stairs, and that had been shortly after she’d bought the house her second year in Two Mule. Not that she was a prude, but, at first, she’d been busy trying to be the best teacher she could, spending evenings over lesson plans, tutoring after school, lending her supervision to several school-related clubs.
When she’d finally grown comfortable in her job and her role, she’d felt awkward stepping outside it. Sure, she attended functions at church, but there again, parents sought her out to talk about their children. She’d begun to feel as though her life was predetermined, that maybe, this was all she was supposed to be. A child’s teacher. Never his or her mother. And the thought of the actual baby-making… She no longer felt comfortable in her own skin. When she looked into a mirror, she saw a pale moon of a face, a figure more suited to plain shirts and dowdy skirts than one that might entice a healthy, horny male.
The sexual side of her was dormant, unawakened, except for brief moments like today, whenever she spied the twins in town or at the diner. Always, the two of them reminded her of her first days here, about her unexpected and unwanted attraction to them both.
Molly rubbed the soft terry over her nipples again. The tips were fully engorged, so sensitive each back and forth pass shot darts of hunger straight toward her womb.
Not that she was ashamed about how easily they affected her. Intellectually, she understood her reactions were natural. They were beautiful specimens of manhood who exuded sexual confidence. Something she, as a relative novice, responded to on a very primal level…
Primal. A word she loved. One that made her think of sweaty, naked bodies. A word she could roll around her tongue…
And good Lord, she was thinking about them again! Her skin felt warmer, her breasts heavier, her nipples tingly and tight.
In the moment she stood inventorying her physical reactions, she was right back at square one—intensely aroused and overheated. Her brain short-circuiting, letting her hunger grow.
She wondered where she’d stashed the vibrator she’d bought the last time she’d visited her family in Houston. She’d been shopping with her sister Sarah who had nagged her about all the elusive details regarding her private life until she’d discovered Molly didn’t have a sex life to gossip about. Sarah had made it her mission to find her a vibrator sure to awaken her dormant hormones.
The unopened box was probably somewhere deep in her closet. Top shelf, behind her Snuggie. And if that wasn’t the definition of a spinster, she didn’t know what was. Short of the prerequisite dozen cats, she was well on her way.
She finished with the towel, hung it over the rail to dry, slipped her glasses on and reached for her robe for the walk to her bedroom, but then decided she could walk naked through her own damn house. Feeling daring, and knowing it was daylight so her silhouette passing any windows wouldn’t be seen from the road, she strode into her bedroom, picked up the stool in front of her vanity and carried it to the closet.
When she was on her tiptoes atop the cushioned seat, reaching to the farthest corner, she heard a sound coming from her backyard. A metallic chink, then a soft masculine curse.
Curious, she leaned back and tugged her lace curtains to open them just a couple inches and peered down through the branches of the mimosa tree, into her yard. The sight that greeted her caused her breath to hitch.
The twins stood in her backyard, in the center of the area she’d neatly staked and tied with twine to define the place she intended to put her koi pond. And they’d made a mess. Clumps of turf lay beside the big hole they’d dug. Water ran freely from a hose into the middle of a muddy pit. The black pool liner she’d bought and left leaning against the garage had been dragged beside the hole.
Anger flushed another kind of heat through her veins, and she climbed off the stool, hurried to the bathroom for her robe, and then she was stomping down her stairs to the sliding glass door, which she slammed open with all her righteous anger.
Two begrimed faces turned her way. Before she let herself think better of her plan, she was standing in front of them with her sheer bathrobe flapping in a breeze and staring at two broad, naked muddy chests. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she asked, trying to temper her voice, because she didn’t want neighbors hearing her screeching like a banshee.
Mace’s gaze raked over her body. “Wishin’ I had x-ray vision,” he drawled.
Molly scowled and clutched the lapels of her robe in one hand. “I’m talking about this!” she said, waving her other hand at the rapidly filling hole.
Mace shrugged. “Dirt was too hard. And since we couldn’t find a pick or a backhoe in your garage—”
“You think I’d have a backhoe?”
“Or a pick…”
“You were rummaging through my garage?” she said, her voice raising.
“It wasn’t locked.”
She rolled her eyes. “Why are you digging up my yard?”
“We saw the stakes, found the pool that fits the space you marked off…” He shrugged again, a little smile tilting up the corners of his mouth as he gave her body another sly once-over.
She hoped like hell the bright sunshine wasn’t giving him that x-ray vision. “I don’t need your help. And now I have a huge mess—”
Jason cleared his throat, pulling her attention to a sharp, crystal gaze alight with amusement. “It only looks like a mess ’cause of the mud. But actually, we have more dug here than you can see.”
Molly gaped at both men, covered in sweat and dirt, but somehow still looking more attractive than she could stand. She felt moisture pool beneath her feet and glanced down at the hose still gurgling water into the pit they’d dug. Before she could suppress the urge, she bent and picked it up, pressed her thumb over the end to increase the pressure and aimed it at Jason, spraying him with water.
His eyes closed and he stood in the stream, water running off his face to his chest and soaking his jeans.
Mace erupted in laughter, but quickly shut up the moment she turned the hose on him. When he lifted a foot to climb out of the hole, he slipped and landed on his butt in the middle of the muddy pool.
Elation filled her and she laughed, still spraying. But Jason climbed on his hands and knees, over the edge, toward her. She dropped the hose and turned to make a run for it, but he caught the hem of her bathrobe, and jerked it toward him.
Her feet slipped beneath her and she began to fall backward…into a pair of strong arms which wrapped around her and carried her down to one side of the muddy pit, to soft, gooey ground—with those same arms buffeting the fall.
When she caught her breath, she was covered head to toe by one very wet, very amused man. Mud oozed between her toes and beneath the back of her robe, and both lapels had pulled apart. Although his body shielded her from view, nothing stood between their naked chests.
Jason leaned to one side and lifted one finger.
Her eyes nearly crossed watching it descend toward her face.
He pushed up her glasses. “Seems we got ourselves a situation here,” he drawled, settling on his elbows to take a little of his weight off her.
She opened her mouth to demand he move, but then Mace sauntered into view to take up a position leaning against her back porch to watch the couple in the muddy hole. If Jason did move, both men would have an unencumbered view of her torso.
Molly became aware of every sensation: the heavy chest pressing against her stiff nipples, the jut of his jeans-enclosed sex against her mound. She swallowed hard. “Seems we do. I…apologize for acting like a crazy woman.”
Jason grunted and his chest jerked against hers. “You’re not sorry.”
Knowing she was at a distinct disadvantage, she nevertheless lifted her chin. “It’s just plain rude to disagree with me. I’m trying to handle this delicately.”
“Only handlin’ to be done will be done by me—and Mace here, if you ask real pretty.”
Everyone has felt it. That strange and wonderful sense of déjà vu or the feeling of connecting to a place. Sometimes you just sigh when you look at a photo of a waterfall in Hawaii or you get goosebumps when set foot in the town where your ancestors lived. Places are powerful and the connections people make with them are even more powerful.
When I was coming up with the idea for my League of Rogues series (an adventurous Regency romance romp that promises it’s not your average historical romance), I knew I needed powerful places. I had five grown men, powerful leaders in London society who are bound by a dark secret from their past. These heroes needed a place where it all began, the genesis of their story and the friendships that bind them. How did I find this mythical place that would hold my heroes together? It’s a rather interesting story.
When I was attending undergraduate school at Oklahoma State University, I interviewed for the Cambridge Study Abroad program. This was not a study abroad experience you typically associate with undergrads and Europe. It was quite the opposite. I went with a small number of students (no more than fifteen) and with two professors. We spent all day in “class” learning on a specific subject. The program only lasted three weeks, but it changed my life. I lived in the old dorms of the University. For those of you unfamiliar with Cambridge, the campus is divided into several colleges. I lived and went to school in Magdalene College. It was here that my connection was forged. I fell hopelessly in love with the college and its grounds. The dormitories were over six hundred years old and I was living there just like students had for hundreds of years. It became my sacred place.
I envisioned the heroes of my series walking across the grass, getting in trouble with professors. I could see them lounging by the River Cam and coming back from pubs a little drunk and having to feel above the doorways to the doors the icons that had been carved in stone to identify if they were entering the right dorm or not. Cambridge rooted itself deep in my soul and in my heart. Now, in my League of Rogues Series, the heroes share the same love for that place that I do.
What places leave their marks on your heart?
Book Title: Wicked Designs
Series Name: The League of Rogues
Series Number: 1
Author: Lauren Smith
ISBN13: 978-1-61921-745-4
Length: 101k
Genre: Romance > Historical > Regency
Publication Date: January 7th 2014
The League of Rogues takes what they want—but have they taken on too much?
For too long Miss Emily Parr has been subject to the whims of her indebted uncle and the lecherous advances of his repulsive business partner. Her plan to be done with dominating men forever is simple—find herself a kind husband who will leave her to her books.
It seems an easy enough plan, until she is unexpectedly abducted by an incorrigible duke who hides a wounded spirit behind flashing green eyes.
Godric St. Laurent, Duke of Essex, spends countless nights at the club with his four best friends, and relishes the rakish reputation society has branded him with. He has no plans to marry anytime soon—if ever. But when he kidnaps an embezzler’s niece, the difficult debutante’s blend of sweetness and sharp tongue make him desperate for the one thing he swears he never wanted: love.
Yet as they surrender to passion, danger lurks in Godric’s shadowed past, waiting for him to drop his guard—and rob him of the woman he can’t live without.
Warning: This novel includes a lady who refuses to stay kidnapped, a devilish duke with a dark past, and an assortment of charming rogues who have no idea what they’ve gotten themselves into.
Godric St. Laurent, the twelfth Duke of Essex, leaned back in his saddle watching the abduction he’d orchestrated unfold. Covering his mouth with a gloved hand, he stifled a yawn. Things were going smoothly. In fact, this entire kidnapping bordered on the point of tedious. They’d intercepted the coach ten minutes before it reached Chessley House. No one witnessed the escort of riders or the driver changing his route. Oddly enough, the young woman hadn’t shown any signs of resistance or concern from inside the coach. Wouldn’t she have made some protestations when she realized what was happening? A thought stopped him dead. Had she somehow slipped out of the coach when they’d slowed on a corner before they’d left town? Surely not, they would have seen her. Most likely she was too terrified to do anything, hence the silence from inside. Not that she had anything to fear, she would not be harmed.
He nodded to his friend Charles who was perched next to the driver. A bag of coins jingled as Charles dropped it into the jarvey’s waiting hands.
They had reached halfway point between London and Godric’s ancestral estate. They would go the rest of the way on horseback, with the girl sharing a horse with either him or one of his friends. The driver would return to London with a message for Albert Parr and a wild story that exonerated himself from blame.
“Ashton, stay here with me.” Godric waved his friend over while the others rode the horses a good distance away to wait for his signal. Abductions were tricky things, and having only himself and one other man take hold of the girl would be better. She might have a fit of hysterics if she saw the other three men too close.
He rode up to the coach, curious to see whether the woman inside matched his memory. He’d seen her once before from a window overlooking the gardens when he’d visited her uncle. She’d been kneeling in the flowerbeds, her dress soiled as she weeded. A job more suited to a servant than a lady of quality. He’d been ready to dismiss her from his mind when she’d turned and glanced about the garden, a smudge of dirt on the tip of her upturned nose. A butterfly from a nearby flower had fluttered above her head. She hadn’t noticed it, even as it settled on her long, coiling auburn hair. Something in his chest gave a funny little flip, and his body had stirred with desire. Any other woman so innocent would not have caught his interest, but he’d glimpsed a keenness in her eyes, a hidden intelligence as she dug into the soil. Miss Emily Parr was different. And different was intriguing.
Ashton handed the driver the ransom letter for Parr and took up a position near the front of the coach. Taking hold of the door, Godric opened it up, waiting for the screaming to start.
None came.
“My deepest apologies, Miss Parr—” Still no screaming. “Miss Parr?” Godric thrust his head into the coach.
It was empty. Not even a fire-breathing dragon of a chaperone, not that he’d expected one. His sources had assured him she would be alone tonight.
Godric looked over his shoulder. “Ash? You’re sure this is Parr’s coach?”
“Of course. Why?” Ashton jumped off his horse, marched over and thrust his head into the empty coach. He was silent a long moment before he withdrew. Ashton put his finger against his lips and motioned to the inside. A tuft of pink muslin peeped out from the wooden seat. He gestured for Godric to step away from the coach.
Ashton lowered his voice. “It seems that our little rabbit chase has turned into a fox hunt. She’s hidden in the hollow space of the seat, clever girl.”
“Hiding under the seat?” Godric shook his head, bewildered. He didn’t know one woman of his acquaintance who would do something so clever. Perhaps Evangeline, but then if anything could be said of that woman, it was that she was far from ordinary. A prickling of excitement coursed through his veins, into his chest. He loved a challenge.
“Let’s wait a few minutes and see if she emerges.”
Godric looked back at the coach, impatience prickling inside him. “I don’t want to wait here all night.”
“She’ll come out soon enough. Allow me.” Ashton walked back to the coach and called out to Godric in a carrying voice. “Blast and damnation! She must have slipped out before we took charge of the coach. Just leave it. We’ll take the driver back to London tomorrow.” Ashton shut the door with a loud slam and motioned for Godric to join him.
“Now we wait,” Ashton whispered. He indicated that he would guard the left coach door while Godric stationed himself at the right.
Emily listened to the drum of retreating hooves and silently counted to one hundred. Her heart jolted in her chest as she considered what the men would do if they caught her. Highwaymen could be cruel and murderous, especially if their quarry offered little. She had no access to her father’s fortune, which left only her body.
Icy dread gripped Emily’s spine, paralyzing her limbs. She drew a breath as anxiety spiraled through her.
I must be brave. Fight them until I can fight no more. With trembling hands, she pushed at the roof of the seat, wincing as it popped open. Once she climbed out, she brushed dirt from her gown, noticing some tears from the rough wood on the inside of the seat. But the tears held no importance. All that mattered was survival.
Emily looked out the coach window. Nothing stood out in the darkness. Only the faint glimmer of moonlight touched the road with milky tendrils. Stars winked and flickered overhead, pale lights, distant and cold. A shudder wracked her frame, and Emily hugged herself, wanting so much to be at home. She missed her warm bed and her parents’ murmurs from down the hall. It was a comfort she’d taken for granted. But she couldn’t afford to think about them, not when she was in danger.
Were the men truly gone? Could it really be this easy?
She opened the coach door, and stepped down onto the dirt road. Strong arms locked about her waist and yanked her backward. The collision with a hard body knocked the breath from her lungs. Terror spiked her blood as she struggled against the arms that held her.
“Good evening, my darling,” a low voice murmured.
Emily screamed once, before she bit down on the hand that covered her mouth. She tasted the smooth leather of fine riding gloves.
The man roared and nearly dropped her. “Damn!”
Emily rammed an elbow backwards into her attacker’s stomach and began to wrestle free until he grabbed her arm. She swung about, striking him across the face with a balled fist. The man staggered back, leaving her free to dive inside the coach.
If she could get to the other side and run, she might stand a chance. She scrabbled towards the door, but never made it. The devil surged into the coach after her. Turning to face him, she was knocked flat onto her back.
She screamed again as his body settled over hers.
The dim moonlight revealed his bright eyes and strong features.
He caught her flailing wrists, pinning them above her head. “Quiet!”
Emily wanted to rake his eyes out, but the man was relentless. His hips ground against hers and panic drove her to a new level of terror. Her fears of being forcibly taken surfaced as his warm breath fanned over her face and neck. She shrieked, and he reared back away from her, as though the sound confused him.
“I’m not going to hurt you.” His voice vibrated with a low growl, ruining any promise his words might carry.
“You’re hurting me now!” She yanked her arms uselessly against his hold.
The man eased off her somewhat, and Emily took her chance. She tucked her knees up, and with all the power she could summon, she kicked. Her attacker stumbled out the open door and fell onto his back. Emily barely registered that he was winded before she turned and exited the other side of the coach.
The moment she emerged, another man lunged for her. To escape him, Emily fell back against the side of the coach. Rather than grab her, he held his arms wide to keep her from slipping by him, like he was corralling livestock.
“Easy, easy,” he purred.
Emily whipped her head to the left and pleaded with her mind to think, but the man she’d bitten rounded the corner and pounced, pinning her against the coach, his arms caging her in. His solid muscular body towered over her. His jaw clenched as though one move from her would trigger something dark and wild. Emily’s breath caught, and her heart pounded violently against her ribs.
The man was panting and angry. The intensity of his eyes mesmerized her, but the second he blinked, the spell broke and she fought with every bit of strength she could muster.
About the Author
Lauren Smith is an attorney by day, author by night, who pens adventurous and edgy romance stories by the light of her smart phone flashlight app. She’s a native Oklahoman who lives with her three pets—a feisty chinchilla, sophisticated cat and dapper little schnauzer. She’s won multiple awards in several romance subgenres including being an Amazon.com Breakthrough Novel Award Quarter-Finalist and a Semi-Finalist for the Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley Award.
The Secret Life of an Author: Bunny Slippers and ReaderLove
All my life I had one dream: To be a published author.
Much like being a parent, there are so many things no one bothered to warn us about. The late nights, the bleary eyes, the temper tantrums. Yeah, those all hold true in parenting too.
For some reason, I had this vision in my head of being an author. I would blithefully write my books, send them off to a grateful editor and receive buckets of praise and adulation for the brilliance of my work. And then, magically, I’d make a bazillion dollars and end up on some talk show with a (very handsome) host (who wanted to father my babies). There would, in all likelihood, be movie deals which would, of course, result in me winning an Oscar.
I’m nothing if not realistic.
Cut to reality.
I am happy to report that I do gleefully write my books—in bunny slippers and pajamas, most of the time. Having recently turned to writing full time I can write them even faster and don’t even have to shower if I don’t want to. I do receive buckets of praise and adulation (more, perhaps than is good for my ego), but I am only making a fraction of the bazillion dollars.
It’s the other elements of my life that surprised me. Specifically, how much time and energy promotion can take. We’re talking Facebook, Twitter, Pintrest, Goodreads and a host of other outlets. We’re talking research (not for my stories but of the IINDUSTRY), networking, blogging and more. We’re talking author loops and conferences and swag and chats and Facebook events and cover reveals and launch calendars. I could go on.
It’s all part and parcel of the job.
The fact of the matter is, author success is all about connections. Connections with readers and reviewers, authors and publishers, bloggers and service providers. To keep those connections alive, I make it a point to try and be personal. That means responding to emails myself. When I wake up, I will have 75 to 100 (or more) messages that require my attention. One of them may be a cheerful message from Goodreads that I “have 375 new messages.” While I am working my way through the list, another 25 may pop up.
Overwhelming? A little. But each and every one of these messages MATTER. Every reader matters. Every connection makes a difference.
But the personal touch does take a toll. Now, instead of putting in eight hours at the day job and coming home to write for a few (if I have the energy for it) I am putting in 12-16 hour days. Three to four on social media, and eight to ten writing and editing.
I never thought I would be working so hard.
So why do I do it?
Because I love it. Every minute. I love writing and editing, I love connecting with industry cohorts and I absolutely LOVE interacting with readers.
The best part of my job is hearing from readers, people who really love my work. THAT makes it all worthwhile.
If you have an author you love, know she is probably doing the same—if not holding down a day job as well. Authors make anywhere from pennies to a couple dollars on each sale, depending on the publisher, price and distributor cut.
What can you do to help?
A lot.
As a reader, you have more power than you may realize. Here are a few ways you can wield your muscle:
Tell your favorite author you like her work. An email, a Facebook message, a tweet, a comment on a blog. It doesn’t matter. It will make her day.
Buy your favorite author’s work. Don’t download it from a pirate site. Aside from the fact that some of these “freebie” sites are merely Trojan horses carrying viruses into your device, it’s just good Karma. Authors can only afford to write if they make some money at it.
Share your faves with your friends. Industry studies show this is the #1 way readers discover new authors.
Like their Amazon page. Believe it or not, that makes a HUGE difference in their author ranking, which in turn increases the discoverability of their books.
Write honest reviews.
Comment on blogs. Nothing is more depressing than working on a blog and having no one comment. In fact if you comment here, I’ll enter you in a contest to win your choice of one of my books—just as a thank you for reading this far!)
If you really love an author, join her street team and band together with other fans to help your favorite author gain momentum. Momentum is gold in our world. It effects everything like a ripple in a pond.
So readers, take up the banner for your favorite author! Share the word. Help her achieve success as only YOU can. It is, after all, all about YOU. Without readers, we’re just talkin’ to the computer all day. Seriously. And that’s hardly any fun at all.
About Sabrina York
Her Royal Hotness, Sabrina York is the award winning author of over 20 hot, humorous stories for smart and sexy readers. Her titles range from sweet & sexy erotic romance to scorching BDSM. Connect with her on twitter @sabrina_york, on Facebook or on Pintrest. Check out Sabrina’s books and read an excerpt on Amazon or wherever e-books are sold. Visit her webpage at www.sabrinayork.com to check out her books, excerpts and contests. Free Teaser Book: https://sabrinayork.com/home-2/sabrina-yorks-teaser-book/ And don’t forget to enter to win the royal tiara!
When I planned my last book series, The Wild Randalls, it was to be four books only long and center around one family. One book for each sibling—to bring them home after they’d been forced apart through no fault of their own, to give them the HEA they need to heal themselves. I thought when the last book was finished and published I’d done everything I needed to do. I’d tied off loose ends and had made the right love matches for the characters in those books—Leopold, Tobias, Oliver and Rosemary. And yet…my fan mail indicated otherwise.
Readers of Hunting the Hero requested one more book. They wanted a story for Arabella, Lady Farnsworth—a well-meaning best friend character who set up the hero and heroine in the last Wild Randalls book.
I do love a challenge but the request created a problem I hadn’t a ready solution for. You see Arabella’s story didn’t belong with the Wild Randalls set (she wasn’t a Randall), and most of my stories belong to one series or another. I could have left it as a stand alone but in the end I concluded was that Arabella needed a rogue, and a distinguished one at that. My readers had once asked if I’d be writing more books in the Distinguished Rogues series so I guess now I am. Here’s the result of a little gentle persuasion—an accidental book—An Accidental Affair…
Widowed beauty, Arabella Lawson, Lady Farnsworth, knows the value of independence after being trapped in a marriage that left her unfulfilled. Although she longs for a lover at last, she’s expected to chaperone her flirtatious niece during her first season. However, given the way the girl keeps disappearing every chance she gets, there is little hope of a good or speedy result. While searching for her charge yet again, she blunders into one of Lord Rothwell’s scandalous assignations. This time it’s Arabella’s turn to be on the receiving end of his hungry kisses, and she’s far from prepared to make the most of the opportunity.
Gossip may paint Merrick Bishop, the Earl of Rothwell, as a notorious scoundrel when it comes to women, but this season his intentions are honorable. Duty bound to marry, he’s determined to discreetly court an open-minded bride and prove the gossipmongers wrong by being on his very best behavior… until in his frustration, he mistakenly kisses the wrong lady and discovers that everything about the encounter feels so very right. Merrick never once believed he had a chance with shy Arabella, and when the unthinkable happens, she turns to him not for an affair or hopes of marriage but for his friendship and protection from her own family.
Can a rogue with a reputation for breaking hearts convince a widow who only hopes for an affair that their feelings are not only the stirrings of desire but the beginnings of the deepest and truest love?
Want to know more? You can read an excerpt from An Accidental Affair on my website or download a sample from your retailer of choice. Thanks so much for reading and taking part in my release day fun.
AUTHOR BIO:
Bestselling historical author Heather Boyd believes every character she creates deserves their own happily-ever-after, no matter how much trouble she puts them through. With that goal in mind, she weaves sizzling English set love stories that push the boundaries of regency era propriety to keep readers enthralled until the wee hours of the morning. Brimming with new ideas, she frequently wishes she could type as fast as she conjures new storylines. While writing full time north of Sydney, Australia, Heather collects dust bunnies in all corners of the house and does her best to wrangle her testosterone-fuelled family into submission. You can catch up with her at www.heather-boyd.com, Facebook and Twitter.
With the release of Cowboy Heat next week and the upcoming releases of Sex Objects and Hot Highlanders and Wild Warriors, I need to start gearing up to present a fresh slate of ideas to my publisher.
Want to help me narrow the field? You tell me what you’d like to see next. Choose up to three options. And if you have an idea that isn’t listed here, leave a comment to tell me what you’d like to see!
What themes would you like to see featured in future collections?
Bad Boys -- bikers, rockers, tattooed bad boys, etc. (33%, 27 Votes)
Red Hot Wheels -- think 007’s Astin Martin, Fast & Furious, NASCAR drivers, illegal drag racing (19%, 16 Votes)
Love Everlasting -- paranormal stories that are “fresh”—not all vampires! (19%, 16 Votes)
Sports Heroes -- the hockey player, football player, etc. (10%, 8 Votes)
Small Town Love (10%, 8 Votes)
Celebrity Crushes (6%, 5 Votes)
New Adult -- young women in college or in their first job, finding their first loves... (4%, 3 Votes)
Posted in General|13 People Said|Link
Last 5 people who had something to say: ANGELA R NOBLE - Melissa L Porter - Ginger Robertson - Lucy - Michelle Gallegos -
In a little over a week, I’ll celebrate my third publishing anniversary. In late 2013 I made the difficult decision to go almost totally indie. I still publish with one publisher, Twenty or Less Press/Sybarite Seductions, and owe Loose Id one more books, but at this point I’m about 90% an indie author. Why did I do it?
1. I was getting frustrated at not being able to do anything if a book languished. I couldn’t change the price, the cover, or any of the other little things I experiment with now.
2. I was tired of giving a publisher half of my royalties (sometimes a little less). On books priced $2.99 or more, Amazon pays 70%. Of that, most publishers pay the author 35-45%. So overall, out of a $2.99 book, if you make a 40% royalty, you’ll have $1.09 (or so) per book. If you’re indie, though, that number rises to $2.10. Yes, almost a dollar more for each book.
3. I can get works to the market faster if I don’t have to wait for the book to be read and accepted by a publisher, sign the contract etc, etc, etc.
There are other reasons, but those are three that were most important to me. Now, I want to be clear: publishers are great—for some writers. Publishers, specifically Loose Id, gave me my start and I’m grateful to them. This decision had nothing to do with hating publishers or thinking they’re ruining the industry. It’s about me, not them.
I’ve released several books in 2014 already and have another coming 3/19. One of my recent releases is Public Affairs, a 50k spicy contemporary single title. Here’s the blurb for it:
Nate O’Halloran is a PR superstar, an expert in crisis management for his image-conscious celebrity clients. When his college roommate, now a hospital director in Buffalo, calls to beg for his help– a cancer researcher on staff has disappeared with millions of dollars’ worth of government research funds– Nate agrees to help right away, though this situation is pretty small potatoes for him.
Val Chase, the hospital’s PR director, is none too thrilled when Nate shows up; does it mean her boss doesn’t trust her to handle this mess herself? Against her better judgment, Val decides she and Nate have to work together to save the hospital’s reputation, though the explosive attraction they feel is making any actual “work” difficult…
Author Bio:
Cassandra Carr is a multi-award winning romance writer. When not writing she enjoys watching hockey and hanging out online. Cassandra’s books have won numerous “Best Book Of” awards and her novella Unexpected Top was nominated in the E-book Erotic Romance category of RT’s Reviewers’ Choice Awards.
She thinks the best part of being a writer is how she writes about love and sex while most others struggle with daily commutes, micro-managing bosses and cranky co-workers. Her inspiration comes from everywhere, but she’d particularly like to thank the Buffalo Sabres, the hockey team near and dear to her heart.
Thank you, Delilah, for letting me visit you today. I have been very busy since the last time I was here. I added another Granddaughter, and became the caretaker to my sister. Both are wins in my book. Another little girl to spoil, and I get to have one of my sisters with me all the time. Every writer knows that life can truly get in the way of our time to write, and mine truly did, but I decided to cut back on some things so I could get a few stories written, so I gave up a few hours of sleep each night and it paid off. I published my first story, Saving Angel, in October 2012, then, Rescued From the Dark, February 2013 a short story, The Christmas Contract, in December 2013 and I just received a contract from Black Opal Books for my Young Adult, If I Knew Then. Now I’m sure your asking yourself, what does all this have to do with taking a new path.![lfrescued-200x300[1]](https://i0.wp.com/www.delilahdevlin.com/wp-content/uploads/lfrescued-200x3001.jpg?resize=200%2C300&ssl=1)
When I was attending undergraduate school at Oklahoma State University, I interviewed for the Cambridge Study Abroad program. This was not a study abroad experience you typically associate with undergrads and Europe. It was quite the opposite. I went with a small number of students (no more than fifteen) and with two professors. We spent all day in “class” learning on a specific subject. The program only lasted three weeks, but it changed my life. I lived in the old dorms of the University. For those of you unfamiliar with Cambridge, the campus is divided into several colleges. I lived and went to school in Magdalene College. It was here that my connection was forged. I fell hopelessly in love with the college and its grounds. The dormitories were over six hundred years old and I was living there just like students had for hundreds of years. It became my sacred place.
Her Royal Hotness, Sabrina York is the award winning author of over 20 hot, humorous stories for smart and sexy readers. Her 
Bestselling historical author Heather Boyd believes every character she creates deserves their own happily-ever-after, no matter how much trouble she puts them through. With that goal in mind, she weaves sizzling English set love stories that push the boundaries of regency era propriety to keep readers enthralled until the wee hours of the morning. Brimming with new ideas, she frequently wishes she could type as fast as she conjures new storylines. While writing full time north of Sydney, Australia, Heather collects dust bunnies in all corners of the house and does her best to wrangle her testosterone-fuelled family into submission. You can catch up with her at 
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