Some people may not know that I was an RN in the psychiatric field for many years. I found it fascinating, mostly because we’re still learning so much about the mind, personality, and behavior of human beings. Now toss into the mix a creative brain and you have something really interesting.

Someone once told me, “You don’t think like other people.” She was a fellow writer and didn’t mean it as an insult. She meant it to help me…and it did.

Writer Juliet Bruce, PhD paraphrased creativity researcher Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi best when speaking of creative people. “Instead of being an individual, they are a multitude.

“Like the color white that includes all colors, they tend to bring together the entire range of human possibilities within themselves. Creativity allows for paradox, light, shadow, inconsistency, even chaos – and creative people experience both extremes with equal intensity.”

I think she meant to say the color ‘black’ since white is the absence of color and black is what you get when you mix all colors together. Oh well…I went to Mass College of Art, so you can blame it on them.

Here are a few qualities he lists, as Bruce summarizes and I identify:

1. A great deal of physical energy alternating with a great need for quiet and rest. (*Check)
2. Highly sexual, yet often celibate, especially when working. (*Check with husband.)
3. Smart and naïve at the same time. A mix of wisdom and childishness. Emotional immaturity along with the deepest insights. (*Um…yup. Double check.)
4. Convergent (rational, left brain, sound judgment) and divergent (intuitive, right brain, visionary) thinking…(*What left brain? The only sound judgment I demonstrate is letting other people take care of the rational stuff.)
5. Both extroverted and introverted, needing people and solitude equally. (*Check—especially at writers conferences.)
6. Humble and proud, both painfully self-doubting and wildly self-confident. (*More about this later.)
7. May defy gender stereotypes, and are likely to have not only the strengths of their own gender but those of the other as well. A kind of psychic androgyny. (*?)

For more, see Bruce’s post “Understanding Creative People” – and Csikszentmihalyi’s classic book Creativity: Flow and the Psychology of Discovery and Invention, plus his article “The Creative Personality: Ten paradoxical traits of the creative personality.”

It’s that intensity (passion) that can get us writers into trouble, in my opinion. Speaking of painful self-doubt…John Lennon had huge issues with self-esteem. Even during the height of Beetle Mania, he thought he was a fraud.

I vacillate wildly, just as mentioned—especially after reading a review. Horrible thoughts go through my mind if a review is a bit negative. Everything from “What’s the matter with that broad? Can’t she recognize my brilliance?” To, “Oh, God. I’ve been found out. I suck. I’m a hack, and now everyone knows it.” For self-preservation, I no longer read consumer reviews. They seem to be the harshest and my assistant would have to talk me off a ledge.

But when I receive a fan letter (okay, these days it’s an email) I realize I’m doing what I was meant to do. I’ve entertained someone. (Yay!) Even so, I have a hard time using the word ‘fan.’ I have readers. When someone calls themselves a fan of my work, I’m flattered and humbled. When they call themselves a fan of me, my mind goes a little numb. No—they can’t mean that. They don’t know me.

Or do they? How much of who we are goes into our books?

Thomas Wolfe said, “Every novel is an autobiography.” (*Gulp.)

Even though I’ve never met a vampire or werewolf, I have the type of creative imagination that makes them very real. They live in my head. They speak to me and all I do is take dictation. (Talk about crazy!) If they are real to me, they become real to my readers—and apparently that is happening. I received an angry letter because my heroine was “selfish” when she let her true love give up his immortality for her.

Something to note is that I had a different ending to that story—one that the reader would have loved. An editor made me change it, and all I can think now is, “Why did I let myself be pushed around like that? I suck.”

Well, dear reader, I apologize! I shall try to be true to myself and my characters in the future. I’ve always thought of myself as a “girly-girl,” but I can fight like a man if I have to. (That must be where androgyny comes in.) If an editor again tries to force me to compromise part of my story that makes sense, I will drag said editor into the middle of Times Square and…

No. I really won’t. But I’ll be more assertive. I promise.

Here’s where a lot of creative writers (including romance authors) are showing their testosterone levels. We’re taking charge. We’re self-publishing our books. And we’re doing it our way.

Many are just dumping their agents and publishers and have decided to handle the business as well as the creative parts of publishing. The big benefit of this is keeping a much higher percentage of the profits. Even among these authors, the smart ones will hire artists and editing professionals to make a good product better—and then keep the rest.

Some authors (like me) are becoming ‘Hybrids.’ We continue to work with professional publishers and agents for some books, but we self-publish other projects on the side. The self-published books are called ‘Indies.’ My first Indie is The Cupcake Coven (release date May 5, 2014.) Here’s a quick promo:

Pretty Wiccan Rebecca Colby borrowed money from her father to start her bakery, and now he’s calling the loan due. When she learns he fell off the gambling wagon and owes big money to some scary people, she has to start making a profit—quickly—and hope the loan shark takes payment plans before anyone has an “accident.”

Hot cowboy Dru Tanner is looking for his missing sister who left Texas to explore their New England Wiccan roots. She’s the only family he has left and losing her is not an option. Dru has to hide the fact that he’s not Wiccan long enough to infiltrate a Portsmouth, NH coven, which is the only lead he has.

Dru needs a job and a place to stay. Rebecca needs cheap help, and he’s willing to work for nothing. Perhaps he can pick her brain about Wicca and she can learn how to run a business from a ranch foreman—if lust doesn’t drive them crazy first.

Log line– *This was written by Dorine Linnen of Romance Junkies, but it’s better than the one I wrote. LOL

“Entertainment abounds when a coven of witches whip up a few spells to help their friend hold onto her bakery while losing her heart.  Can a long distance romance work between a cowboy and a baker if they believe in magic?” 

I hope you’ll give my crazy brain a chance to entertain you.

The Cupcake Coven should be available at all e-tailers (like Amazon and Barnes and Noble.com) for only $2.99.

Print copies cost a little more, but you can have your library get one. Every sale will help me continue this insane path I’m on. I want to thank my blog host Delilah, and thank you for your support and encouragement.

Here’s a picture of a bracelet I made and will give to one commenter on Delilah’s blog! I know she makes beautiful jewelry too, but just like writing, our styles vary.

Biography of Ashlyn Chase

Ashlyn Chase describes herself as an Almond Joy bar.  A little nutty, a little flaky, but basically sweet, wanting only to give her readers a satisfying experience.

She holds a degree in behavioral sciences, worked as a psychiatric RN for several years and spent a few more years working for the American Red Cross.  She credits her sense of humor to her former careers since comedy helped preserve whatever was left of her sanity.  She is a multi-published, award-winning author of humorous erotic and paranormal romances, represented by the Seymour Agency.

She lives in beautiful New Hampshire with her true-life hero husband who looks like Hugh Jackman with a salt and pepper dye job, and they’re owned by a spoiled brat cat.

Where there’s fire, there’s Ash
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It’s here! It’s here! And I can’t wait for you to read it!

The moment Tilly Floret sees the sleek Bentley driving down Main Street, she knows trouble has arrived in her sleepy little town. A mysterious job posting keeps appearing at the diner where she works, and she can’t resist applying. No matter that the entire town of Bayou Vert is whispering about the wealthy, powerful man behind it all and his scandalous return home. The moment his ice-blue eyes meet hers, he ignites an all-consuming desire she never imagined possible, one she can’t deny.

Ex-navy SEAL Boone Benoit never thought he’d set foot in Louisiana again. As soon as Tilly starts her new job in his pleasure club, he senses a kindred soul. One who has carefully guarded secrets of her own-and a simmering hunger for the taboo rites of mastery and submission. The only difference is she doesn’t yet know it. Now as Boone tutors Tilly in the tantalizing world of leather and lace, she will shed her every inhibition and surrender to him, body and soul.

Order Paperback
Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Books-A-Million
Indiebound | The Book Depository

Order Ebook
Kindle | Nook | iBooks

Read an Excerpt

The blurb isn’t one I wrote–and it misses some key points I think will matter to you:

1) The guys in the book are all former SEALs, who followed Boone when he left the navy to establish his spec ops company.

2) The story is set deep in the Louisiana bayou—the perfect setting for a murder, deep dark secrets, and soul-crushing despair.

3) You’ll read the story, and then wonder where the next guy’s Happy-Ever-After is. Promise. 🙂

Readers! Read the story, then do me a big, humongous favor—post a review. Somewhere. Anywhere. Amazon’s nice, because they sell the most books and I’d love for readers to find me there. Then there’s Nook, iBooks, etc. Don’t forget Goodreads… Reviews don’t have to be long or even eloquent. Readers want an honest voice telling them their money will be well-spent. And thank you!

Bloggers! If you’d like to host me or talk about my book, just let me know! I’ll show up bearing gifts!

And if you’d like to follow along on a blog tour, there will be gifts along the way, and an Amazon gift certificate at the end. I’d love to see some friendly faces!

5/05   Night Owl Reviews

5/05   Coffee Talk Writers

5/06   Haloangel Reads 

5/06   Kawehi’s Book Blog

5/06   Books And Their Seven Deadly Sins

5/07   Cherry Mischievous

5/07   Dirty Girl Romance

5/08   Mythical Books

5/08   Paranormal Romance and Beyond 

5/08   Scorching Book Reviews

5/09   Binding Addiction

5/10   Book Lovin’ Mamas

5/11   Monlatable Book Reviews

5/11   Snarky Mom Reads…

5/13   For Whom The Books Toll

5/14   Eclipse Reviews

5/15   Karen Swart

5/16   Darkest Cravings

5/17   The Lusty Literate

5/18   deal sharing aunt

Tomorrow, Her Only Desire releases. If you’ve read me and like my sexier stories, then you’re in for a treat. HOD is naughty fun, that just so happens to feature a very wealthy ex-SEAL who lives deep in the south Louisiana bayou and happens to share a penchant for BDSM play with his ex-SEAL buddies when he’s not saving the world. If you don’t already have it pre-ordered, I’ll make it easy. Head here — Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BAM.

Will it help you decide “yes” if you know the next one’s on its way?

I’ll share a little excerpt from His Every Fantasy. Forgive any typos or grammatical errors. It hasn’t been fully edited yet. And this is only a tease, because hey, I want you to want these books…. 🙂

“We started something, back in the room.”

His eyes gleamed in the torchlight. “And I’d be a bastard to let it go any further.”

“Why did you let me kiss you?”

He opened his mouth to say something, but then clamped it closed.

“Didn’t you want me to kiss you?”

His eyelids slid down before he speared her with a dark look. “You’re a virgin, Kara. And you just said your first time should mean something.”

The intensity of his gaze made her nipples tighten. “And you think that my first time with you wouldn’t?”

“I’m not the one for you.”

“Couldn’t you be the one…for now?” She paused, hating the pleading note in her voice.

Again, his Adam’s apple dipped. The arm holding her tensed.

She might have been inexperienced, but she knew what she wanted. And she sensed he wanted her every bit as much. She grasped the hand he still held curled, and slowly peeled open his fingers. He barely breathed as she brought it to her breast.

At first, his fingers laid against her, stiff, unmoving.

Knowing she had to be the aggressor, at least for now, she pointed a finger and dug it into the underside of his jaw, urging his face closer.

Despite the war he fought evident in the tightening of his jaw, he inched forward. His eyes glittering, his face hardening.

But she wasn’t afraid of that fierce look. It only made her hotter…there between her legs where her sex was swelling, moistening.

When only an inch separated their lips, he curved his fingers around her breast, and she pushed against him, filling his palm.

Turning her face, she rubbed her cheek against his, enjoying the scrape of his whiskers. “There’s only one thing Lucio was interested in,” she whispered. “One thing that made me valuable. If my virginity doesn’t exist anymore…”

“Don’t ask me that, baby.”

She didn’t—at least, not with words. Instead, she rubbed her bottom against his lap, against the large hard knot beneath her. Her deepening breaths pushed her breast harder against his fingers.

And finally, he cupped her fully, rubbed his thumb against the turgid peak.

Letting her head fall back, she sighed, surrendering herself—if only he would take everything she offered. “Sergei, I’m not a baby.”

She spoke with conviction, her voice sure and steady. Sergei cursed himself for this lust he could barely control. Already, and despite his best intentions, his fingers were working her stiff little peak. His cock thickened, throbbing beneath her squirming ass.

But she was a virgin. The last he’d had was Afya, and he’d been nearly as green as she’d been all those years ago. What Kara wanted from him was wrong in so many ways. She needed comfort, to know she was safe. From Las Omegas, from him.

But her eyelids were dipping dreamily with every tug he gave her nipple. Her warm body was nestled against him, soft and wanting. Thawing the hard, cold places inside him. “This Lucio isn’t likely to let you go simply because you’ve lost your hymen. Men like that don’t let go. Ever.”

“All the more reason why I need you, Sergei,” she said, her voice tighter, her finger tracing the back of his neck. “Give me something beautiful. Something Lucio can never give me.”

His whole body tightened in rejection at the thought of another man taking her. “He’s not coming anywhere near you. He’ll never have you.”

“Please.” She slid her palm along his cheek, her finger rubbing his bottom lip. “Please,” she repeated softly.

Her pleas caused a pang inside his chest. Her soft, slender body was beginning to move restlessly. A signal his own horny libido found difficult to ignore.

Well, there were ways to distract her from her purpose. Pleasurable ones that would give her release and help her relax. Ways that wouldn’t leave him feeling empty and like he’d failed to keep her safe. He leaned over her and kissed her mouth, groaning because he knew he’d be in blue-ball hell for what he was about to do.

When he pulled away, he saw her breaths were shorter; her eyes were darkened with passion. Her mouth was swollen—and so lushly tempting, he wished he could take it the way he was dying to, but fuck, he she was a virgin. Still, his cock jerked at the thought of her plump lips closing around him.

Her gray eyes were like little mirrors reflecting his desire. She stared back, her arm around him, her body pressing on his cock which was getting fidgety beneath her bottom. Something she didn’t miss, because she slowly rubbed against him.

He placed a hand on her thigh and gave it a squeeze, a warning to stop, but she only smiled. The temptation was there, her willingness shining in her eyes. Slowly, he moved his hand down her leg and then swept upward, smoothing up a petal of her flame-colored dress.

Kara’s fingers bit into his shoulder and she parted her thighs, giving him permission to continue. Her inner thigh was soft and smooth. Her pussy was hot as he cupped it, his fingers spreading, two on either side of her satin-cloaked lips, one dipping in between to finger her opening. Saved from intruding by the fabric of her underwear, he applied pressure, waiting as the narrow seam grew wet, soaking his fingertip.

Her lips parted, a ragged moan seeping from between her pursed lips. She inched her thighs wider and leaned against his arm, her breasts rising and dipping faster with each shallow breath.

He poked at the fabric, rimming her entrance, circling around and around, and then moved upward to find her clit. The tight nub was rigid to the touch and her breath hissed when he tapped it. When he paused, preparing to withdraw, she reached between her legs and pressed against his hand. “Touch me. Please.”

Damning himself for being weak, he slid his fingers under the band of her underwear and touched her sex directly. Moist, fragrant heat surrounded his fingertips as he slid between her folds, tracing them up and down.

Again, her lips pursed and she ground down on his cock, her bottom squirming so deliciously he gritted his teeth against the sensations rocketing through him. He’d love nothing more than to ease open his pants and slide her onto his cock, but he was in control here—the one tasked with keeping her safe. However, her shallow pants and gently rocking hips were doing a number on his good intentions.

Sergei continued to fondle her while he wrestled with his conscience. He tugged her lips, rimmed her opening, but never penetrated, mindful of her inexperience. But he was loathe to leave her without providing a hint of the pleasure he could give. Wetting a finger in the well of her wet pussy, he transferred the moisture to her clit and gently rubbed it. He knew his finger was slightly callused, and by her sharp breathy gusts, she was sensitive, so he returned again and again for more lubricant, careful to keep her tiny bud wet while he swirled.

Her eyelids dropped to half-mast, a thin sheen of sweat sprouted on her forehead and upper lip. Her teeth bit into her lower lip, and she sucked it inside as her body grew more and more tense. One thigh pressed hard against his torso while the other widened.

Her skirt inched higher and higher, until it swathed her hips and he was looking down at her sex, his fingers disappearing beneath a scrap of red satin. She was soaked, so was his hand, but he couldn’t stop, not until he’d given her what he could, without betraying his unspoken vow.

When he heard a tight moan seep from between her lips, he leaned to whisper in her ear, “Let go, now, baby. Come for me. I’ve got you.”

Her head dropped back, and she arched.

He held her against him, while he circled faster, pressed a little harder against the hard nub. At last, she came, her eyes rolling up, her mouth opening, her thighs tensing, then at last, relaxing while she hung inside his embrace, limp and replete.

Sergei had never seen anything so beautiful. Her abandonment sent a wash of possessive heat throughout his body. His cock was unbearably tight, his balls hard as stones. But he gathered her up against his chest and held her close until she began to stir.

Her eyes blinked open, and she stared upward, a frown drawing together her brows as her focus narrowed.

“You’re welcome,” he drawled.

Her eyebrows lowered. “You think you did me a favor?”

“No, I gave you a gift.”

“It’s not what I wanted.”

“And yet you’ve drenched my legs.”

“Huh.” She pushed against his chest, then slid her legs to the side, standing. She wobbled for a second, but batted away the hand he extended to steady her. “That wasn’t what I wanted at all.”

Maybe it was because he was hard as a post, but hearing her, irritation flooded him. “You’re a virg—”

Kara pressed a hand over his mouth and bent toward his face. “Don’t repeat that. I know very well you have no interest in fucking a virgin. That you just did this poor little virgin a huge freaking favor.”

Sergei grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand from his mouth. “I’m protecting you,” he gritted out.

She bent closer until her face was level with his. “I don’t need your damn protection.” Her chest was billowing around her angry breaths, but her face suddenly fell. “Don’t you want me?”

That dejected look was more than he could take. He cursed under his breath, and reached for her, bringing her body between his open thighs while his arms encircled her. Again, she perched on a thigh, and he kissed her, hard, while he dragged her hand and cupped it against his straining cock. “Does this feel like I don’t want you?”

I think one of the best gifts is the one you don’t expect and I’ve been lucky enough to be on the received end of one.

Let me back up a bit.

I’m not a purse lady. On a daily basis I load up my pockets with what’s necessary, otherwise I don’t take it with me. If I’m traveling then I take a backpack so I can have my laptop with power cord at hand. The few times I’ve been abroad without my cutie to carry stuff for me I carried a sling type backpack.

It’s funny but I don’t normally carry a purse and if I do, they’re usually small and not appropriate. My cutie has actually bought me all but one of my purses. The brown one was from my mom gifted decades ago, yes, DECADES! The red one doesn’t zip closed and so he happily bought the blue one which does. It’s bigger and I can carry my laptop in it and load it up so I nearly break my back from the weight – oops. The last one was gifted to me a few Christmas ago by the cutie. He gave a hot pink gem that is small, holds a Coke and my phone, and only snaps closed. I need to admit security is his thing, not mine, but I pay attention now and again.

One day last year we went shopping so I could point out birthday ideas and he took me to the purse section. I liked them, many were stunning, but none were for me until I laid eyes on one in particular.

I picked it up, held it on my forearm and then in my hand, and wow. It felt so right. I tried the zippers, checked inside to see what it had in the way of pockets, and dang … it was perfect for me.

My birthday wasn’t for two weeks and the cutie was going on a trip until the day before my birthday. I didn’t forget about the purse, but I did put it from my mind while he was gone. After I picked him up at the airport we went back to the mall in a bid to keep him awake for a few hours. [That’s a trick we’ve taken on for our trips abroad. Make it until 8pm local time and then a half hour or later each night after. Most trips we have no problem and don’t have to do this, but coming home is always a tough transition.]

Anyway, we were walking through the mall and went back to look at the purses. It wasn’t there and I was little sad until the cutie handed over a receipt. He’d prepurchased the bag, and I now owned my Trophy Purse. I’m very careful with it and only use it in Spring/Summer as I don’t want the ugly weather to mark it in any way.

Okay, it’s time to share. What’s you favorite gift … your trophy item? Inquiring minds want to know. 🙂

My latest release is Branded, a collection of my contemporary western erotic romances. They all have BDSM and toys, some are multicultural and have ménage a trois, and one has some sensory deprivation. There are four books in the collection: Konnichiwa Cowboy, Giddy Up, Jon Black’s Woman and A Kinky Ride – the latter can only be found in Branded. Ride ‘em was the first in the Branded series and isn’t in the collection but can be found for $0.99 at Ellora’s Cave.

I adore my cowboys from Montana that are looking for a life behind bushes of roses and the white picket fence while enjoying BDSM with the woman they love. They’re all adorable and different. Their unique qualities make the catches but once they find the right lady, they cannot be steered away from getting them in their beds.

Thank you, Delilah, for giving me the time and space to share about my Trophy Purse and the Branded cowboys.

Tilly Greene
Scorching romances full of twists, turns and ties.
www.tillygreene.com
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Whether traveling or sitting in her office, Tilly Greene researches and writes erotica and erotic romance novels in a variety of genres and sub-genres like shape shifter, paranormal, contemporary and futuristics, and themes such as BDSM, multiculturalism and ménages.  Every day she looks forward to writing about women who are independent and confident, the men who love them, and their twisting passionate path to each other.

UPDATE: Winner will be chosen Monday evening! So there’s still time to enter!

* * * * *

So, I couldn’t think of a better title. I have two little-ish announcements and then I want to share another excerpt from next Tuesday’s new release. Hang in there!

* * * * *

First, did you see the latest review in a string of GREAT reviews for Cowboy Heat? Night Owl Reviews gave the collection 5 stars and Top Pick, and says this: “Each story contained in this anthology is a reflection of high standards and terrific writing… You can’t get any better than these 15 fantastic western romances.” It doesn’t get any better than that, huh? Congrats to all the authors!

* * * * *

This week, SEALs of Summer hit the USA Today Bestsellers list at #22! And we have advance notice that the anthology hit the New York Times list that releases this coming week at #6 on the ebook list and #11 on the combined, print and ebook, list! Hitting both is a dream come true for any author!

* * * * *

On Tuesday, May 6th, Her Only Desire will be released by Grand Central in both print and ebook! I don’t write full-length novels very often, so if you’ve been waiting for something longer, this is the one!

For fans of Sylvia Day and E. L. James, comes awarding-winning author Delilah Devilin’s first book in her sensual eroitic romance Sultry Summer Nights series.

A Sultry Summer Nights Novel

The moment Tilly Floret sees the sleek Bentley driving down Main Street, she knows trouble has arrived in her sleepy little town. A mysterious job posting keeps appearing at the diner where she works, and she can’t resist applying. No matter that the entire town of Bayou Vert is whispering about the wealthy, powerful man behind it all and his scandalous return home. The moment his ice-blue eyes meet hers, he ignites an all-consuming desire she never imagined possible, one she can’t deny.

Ex-navy SEAL Boone Benoit never thought he’d set foot in Louisiana again. As soon as Tilly starts her new job in his pleasure club, he senses a kindred soul. One who has carefully guarded secrets of her own-and a simmering hunger for the taboo rites of mastery and submission. The only difference is she doesn’t yet know it. Now as Boone tutors Tilly in the tantalizing world of leather and lace, she will shed her every inhibition and surrender to him, body and soul.

An excerpt from the book follows, but before we get to that, I did promise a contest!

Leave a comment on this post, and you’ll be entered to win a signed
copy of one of my Cleis Press collections—reader’s choice!

Excerpt from Her Only Desire…

Tilly awoke to the smell of burning wood and the sound of hushed voices outside her window. Her eyes smarted from the smoke. Fear clogged her throat.

She didn’t dare turn on her lights until she knew what was happening. So she felt around for her thin bathrobe, knotted it around her waist, and then made her way through the cottage to the front windows. Holding open two slats of the blinds, she stared in horror at one of the cabins across the square ablaze, sparks flying high into the air like fireflies.

Men surrounded it, holding hoses they used to wet the nearby ground and the surrounding cabins, but they pointed no water toward the burning cabin.

Everything seemed under control until her gaze found Boone, standing frozen in front of the gaping cabin door, watching the flames consume the structure.

Then she understood. Celeste had been found lying in one of the cabins on a dingy, blood-soaked mattress. That was all the detail the newspapers had given. Enough to fill her mind with images of a vivacious young woman who’d laughed while Tilly jumped on her bed, forever stilled. Although they were cousins, too many years lay between them for them to be close, but Celeste’s loss had changed everything.

Goose bumps raised on her skin. She wanted to sneak back to her bedroom and pretend she hadn’t seen a thing. But the sight of Boone, standing so still, his body rigid, hands fisted at his sides, made her stomach knot.

Her guilty secret made her feel slightly ill. She could ease his pain—shift the shame from his shoulders. All she had to do was come forward with her brother’s treasure box and the bracelet that hadn’t been found at the crime scene.

Watching him, standing so silently, with his grim-faced men giving him worried glances as they worked, her eyes burned more. She hurried back to her bedroom. Not wanting to think about what she was doing, she dressed in shorts and a tee, slid her feet into flip-flops, and hurried back to let herself out of the door. Flapping sounds echoed in the air as she passed Serge, whose lips tightened. She ignored the shake of his head, which told her to mind her own business. She passed Mr. Jones, who didn’t give away his opinion by so much as a movement or change in his harsh face. Ignoring everyone but the man whose rigid body stood like a silent sentinel, she sidled up beside Boone and cupped his balled fist in her hand.

His hand tightened more, but didn’t shake hers away. Desperate to keep hidden the tears forming in the corners of her eyes, she kept her gaze down and stood beside him as the roof groaned, then collapsed, sending sparks raining out the gaping door.

Only then did he act, his arm coming around her to urge her backward. Then he pulled her against his chest and cupped her head, his hand smoothing over her back.

Maybe he was only making sure none of the firefly-like embers hadn’t landed on her, but he held her close, his heart thudding against her cheek.

Slowly, so that he wouldn’t jerk away from her, she raised her arms, encircling his muscled torso. Providing comfort and finding some for herself. Her hands roamed his back as she snuggled closer to his chest and let her tears fall, wetting her cheeks and the front of his shirt.

At last, he inhaled deeply, the tension in his body draining away. A kiss landed on her hair, and she leaned back, wiping her tears away with her fingers then checking his expression and finding it haggard, ravaged. “I think your men can handle the rest,” she said softly.

Boone shook his head. “I don’t want them turning on the hoses until it’s ashes.”

The harshness of his voice nearly broke her heart. “I’m certain they understand.”

Boone dropped his gaze to hers. “Why are you here, Tilly?”

The hollowness of his gaze made her mouth tremble. For all his strength and accomplishment, he was still a man haunted by his past. “I’m here because I know what this place is…” She took a deep breath. “And I know you didn’t do it.”

His lips twisted. “There’s believing, and then there’s knowing. Which is it, Tilly?” he asked, his gaze sharpening as he studied her face.

Tilly quivered beneath his hard gaze but tilted up her chin. “I know,” she whispered, “but don’t ask me how.” Her gaze pleaded with his to leave her admission alone. She wouldn’t tell him any more.

His jaw firmed, but he nodded, pulling away. “You should go back inside.”

“There’s too much smoke.”

A dark brow rose. “Then you haven’t any choice. You’ll come with me to the Big House.”

Pressed close to his body, she didn’t miss the stirring of his sex against her belly. She dropped her head, staring at his throat, but gave him a nod.

He swallowed. “Serge…”

“Yes, boss,” Serge said from a few feet away.

“See it to the end?”

“Of course. We don’t need you here.”

Boone slipped an arm around Tilly’s waist, and turned, leading her away.

They followed the path, lit by moonlight.

Tilly had known this moment would come. From the first touch of his hand on her foot. She’d been drawn to him from the start. So tall and strong, so smart and accomplished, but inside, he was tormented, something she understood only too well. Pity and guilt didn’t have a thing to do with her surrender. She needed Boone every bit as much as she sensed he needed her.

Her heart tripped inside her chest, knowing she’d accepted an invitation for more than a place to rest while the fire continued to burn. She was ready to explore this tantalizing attraction they shared. Already, her skin felt on fire. Her breasts tightened. Her hips swayed, bumping against his, because she couldn’t contain the excitement curling in her belly.

She was going to his bed. She knew it. He knew it. What he’d do once he had her there… well, that was the mystery. Read the rest of this entry »

Thank you, Delilah for having me guest post for you! I love Delilah’s blog as it always has such a range of interesting people talking about reading and writing.

Today I’m blogging about how to choose a plot and theme for your erotic romance.  Do you get overwhelmed at times trying to make a choice about what to write about?

Firstly, obviously, you want a plot where sex plays an active role.. But you also know that you want your book to be about much more than sex.

You want a full romance arc and a meaty plot. You want story! You want a book with conflict and drama permeated all the way through with heat. You want to write a great book that gets readers talking! But how do you choose what to write about?

First grab yourself a note pad and start to brainstorm things you really love, consider what stirs your emotions, your passions and things you feel strongly about.

Consider what you love to read in other genres, outside erotic romance, erotica, and romance so that you can put your own unique spin on the tried and true. Do you love thrillers? Can you write a super sexy romantic suspense? Can you use your fascination with technology to write a futuristic or science fiction erotic romance?

I’ve always been a big fan of fairy tales and the fae, of Christmas, and of underdog stories so I combined all of these things in my novel Wicked Wonderland from Samhain Publishing.

What about other random interests you have? In my current WIP I focused on my interest in and love for lions and so decided to write a novel that includes a lion shifter. And in my 15K short story Waking the Witch was inspired by reading Arthur Miller’s The Crucible and seeing the movie.

The next step after brainstorming is to write a check list. Decide on the story’s primary “what if” question and solidify your protagonists’ central conflict.  Condensing each idea into a premise sentence can give you an idea of the viability of each potential project.

Research the market, but don’t be enslaved by it, there is always room to put your own spin on trends.

Think about what stirs you emotions. While readers don’t want to be preached to, they will be drawn in by writing that has emotional resonance and sometimes in order to find that emotional resonance you must draw deeply from within yourself.

Personally, I never start any story without identifying sources of conflict and thinking up a final resolution to the conflict.

Here is an excerpt from an early scene in Wicked Wonderland (highly commended in the Passionate Plume for Best Paranormal Romance.) where the heroine Lilly is in conflict with others. .

Sonya stopped by the trash cans, holding Lilly tightly around the waist from behind. Kandy grabbed hold of the chiffon on the front of her angel costume. Lilly shook and twisted violently to try to break their grasp, and part of her angel costume tore. “Let go of me, you assholes!”

She jabbed backward with her elbow, connecting with Sonya’s stomach, and heard the taller stripper gasp with momentary pain, but unfortunately, Sonya didn’t loosen her hold. “Oooooh! Rudolph’ll pay double for that!” Kandy exclaimed.

Lilly didn’t know why she did it. Maybe it was a way of dissociating from a horrible situation, maybe it was because her heart always ached to make music when she was in pain, but she began to hum, the sound starting low in her throat. She closed her eyes and played a flute in her head, filling her mind with a rich and clear melody, which, for a moment, took her right out of her nasty situation. Then a vicious pinch froze the sound in her lungs. Lilly twisted around enough to look up at Sonya. Something frightening had happened to Sonya’s face. It became very still, and the stripper’s eyes narrowed into slits that showed too much amber and almost no pupil, like the eyes of a snake or some other reptile. A sharp chill ran up Lilly’s spine.

“Don’t fucking hum.” Sonya spat out the words.

“Who cares if she hums? She’s just a weirdo,” Bambi interrupted. “I don’t care what she does as long as she doesn’t take our money again.” The words of the other stripper somehow returned everything to relative normality.

I must have been imaging the whole thing. Must have been the cold messing with my brain.

“You steal our tips, Rudolph, and I’ll give you a red nose, all right.” Sonya’s voice seemed inhuman in its rage. Fear swelled around Lilly like a choking fog. The tall stripper swung Lilly around like a toy, then pulled her fist back. Before Lilly could react, the fist connected with her nose. Shooting pain accompanied a sickening crack. Blood ran down her throat, tasting like metal, and all she could see was an ocean of red.

“Enjoy, Dumpster Girl!” Sonya tipped her upside down and slammed her headfirst into an empty trash can.

“Remember, Rudolph, you’ll never fit in anywhere. You’ll always be an outcast left out of all the reindeer games.” The other strippers convulsed with laughter.

Samhain link  for Wicked Wonderland
Amazon link
Lisa’s Amazon page
https://lisawhitefern.wordpress.com/

Comment to be in to win a copy of 15K short story Waking the Witch by Lisa Whitefern published by Freya’s Bower.

Since she came of age Lisa Whitefern has embarrassed people by talking about sex. Now she writes the hottest of erotic romance and erotica.

Lisa has a life-long passion for fairy tales and fantasy. Ever since her teacher read The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe to her class when she was six, Lisa’s been looking for ways to visit Narnia.

Lisa thinks it immensely unfair she can’t wiggle her nose to clean her house like Samantha in the TV show Bewitched.

She has a master’s degree with honors in English Literature, reads tarot cards and tutors children of all ages in English after school.

Although born in New York City to American parents Lisa has lived most of her life in New Zealand. She now lives in the foothills of the beautiful Waitakere Ranges of Auckland with her husband and her two gorgeous sons.

Lisa will be speaking on erotic romance at the Romance Writers’ of New Zealand Conference.

Don’t forget to follow Lisa on Twitter and like her on Facebook!

The joy of being a writer is having the flexibility to write those things that you enjoy writing. I love to write cowboys, cops, military heroes, comedies, suspense and paranormal romances. As a reader, I love to read all of these genres and hope that other readers will follow me no matter what genre I write. It’s exciting to wake up into a new world every day. And isn’t that why we read? To escape into another world, to be someone else and to overcome someone else’s obstacles and find love if even for a moment?

I love writing paranormals because I can make up the rules of my world and the magic that happens within it. I especially love a magical family whose members come together to help each other out. Each of the sisters have their own power relative to their position on the pentagram. Deme’s is the power of earth. She can shake it, grow it and manipulate plants. Her lover Cal is mortal, but an alpha hero willing to go up against any paranormal entity to protect the one he loves.

I started my witch series bringing all five of the sisters together in Chicago in THE WITCH’S INITIATION. They came to find one of their sisters who had disappeared. The first book was Deme Chattox’s story. The subsequent Nocturne Cravings have been Deme and Cal’s continued forays into policing the paranormals in Chicago. THE WITCH’S DESIRE takes them from Chicago to New York City. I chose to take them to NYC because I built that city as a den of paranormal activity and creatures in my demon series out with Nocturne Cravings. They even bump into some of the characters from that series.

As an author and a reader, I like to revisit characters from previous books. It makes them more of a community and, after all, we grow to love these characters as we read them and become part of their lives.

Do you like to revisit characters from previous books? Are you okay with two series colliding?

Leave a comment for a chance to win a download of TARZAN & JANINE,
a book coauthored by Elle James and Delilah Devlin!

THE WITCH’S DESIRE
Harlequin Nocturne Cravings
The third book in Elle James’s Witch series
by Elle James aka Myla Jackson
Amazon | Nook | Kobo

Demons, darkness and desire…

The only time Demi Chattox, a witch, gets to see her lover, special agent Cal Black, is when they’re chasing down demons. When they’re tasked with escorting a VIP—a Very Important Paranormal—to a summit meeting in New York, it seems like the perfect assignment. A few days away from the job…in a Manhattan hotel…just the two of them…

But there’s a storm ravaging New York, and a vampire who doesn’t want this particular VIP to make it to the summit. As Demi and Cal race to complete their assignment, they’re driven by their sense of duty—and by their desperate need to find some time alone.

Elle James’s Bio: Elle James spent twenty years livin’ and lovin’ in South Texas, ranching horses, cattle, goats, ostriches and emus. A former IT professional, Elle is proud to be writing full-time, penning intrigues and paranormal adventures that keep her readers on the edge of their seats. She has 39 works with Harlequin, self published works under pen name Elle James, over 40 works with other publishers including Samhain, Elloras’ Cave, Kensington and Avon and 18 works self-published under pen name Myla Jackson. Now living in northwest Arkansas, she isn’t wrangling cattle, she’s wrangling her muses, a malti-poo and yorkie. When she’s not at her computer, she’s traveling, out snow-skiing, boating, or riding her ATV, dreaming up new stories.

Social Media:

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