Hi, again! I recently did a guest post about 5 reasons to get a tattoo. Why? Because I love biker romances and one of the things I love about bikers is their hot, sexy tattoos!
And, of course, I love writing about bikers! Why? Here are my nine top reasons.
1. Domination
I love writing stories where a strong alpha male takes control of a woman and a rough, tough, leather clad bad-boy biker is as alpha and dominant as they come!
“You’re mine now. I’ll do whatever I want to you, and you’ll do whatever I tell you. Now and while we ride together.
(From Wild Ride.)
2. A sense of danger
These bad-boys are big, rough and intimidating. I love the breathless excitement the heroine experiences when he takes control
In a sudden movement, she felt herself pushed back against the building. Her breath caught as his big, solid body crushed her tight to the cold brick wall.
Oh, God, had she made a mistake? He was so big and intimidating, and right now, he looked determined and… almost feral. He pivoted his hips forward and she could feel a hard bulge against her stomach, proof that he was aroused by her. Anxiety spiked through her, and a little fear, but right alongside those feelings was a wild surge of excitement.
He grabbed her wrists and pushed them over her head, then held them tight, his striking midnight eyes locked on hers. She could feel the erratic pounding of her blood pumping through her veins.
She had never felt so alive.
God, she wanted him to take her. Right here. Right now.
(From Hot Ride.)
3. Attitude and sheer sex appeal
These men have a cocky, bad-boy attitude and love to shock. In Hard Ride, I love it when Shock says to Liv:
“Sweetheart, it’s not a date I want from you.” He leaned in closer, his hot breath stirring her hair. His groin pressed against hers, the hard bulge of his erection telling her exactly what he did want. “I want you naked and moaning,” he said, “my hard cock driving into you. I want your hands all over me,”— his gaze dropped to her lips— “your mouth all over me. I want to fuck you so hard, you scream my name at the top of your lungs.”
The hand on her lower back pulled her tighter against his pelvis, so she could feel exactly how long and hard he was. “And after you do that, and you’re lying gasping on the bed, I want to do it all over again.”
(From Hard Ride)
4. Camaraderie
Steele’s gang of bikers is not a typical motorcycle club. They are six friends who ride together, running from the shadows of their past. They share a closeness I admire, with playful banter and very serious trust. They are a close knit group that shares everything.
Wild Card gestured to Steele, still asleep on the ground. “That man always has my back. Same with every one of his crew.” He locked gazes with her. “If you let him, that man will protect you and take care of you to the best of his abilities. And believe me, that’s saying something.”
(From Riding Steele)
5. Group sex
As I said, these six hot bikers share everything. That’s the perfect opportunity to have my heroines enjoy a romp with not one, not two but… yes, all six men. Gotta love that! 😉
6. Deep, dark secrets
All of my bikers in the Ready to Ride series have a deep, dark secret from their past that is explored during their story. One of my bikers, Magic, even has a tattoo with script that says “My secrets are my own.”
7. Danger, chaos and happenstance
Anything can happen. In both the first two stories, Rip, who is an ex-cop, gets drawn into a bar fight, prompting his heroine, Raven, to say:
“So will this be a regular thing now that I’m riding with you? Being thrown out of bars?”
(From Wild Ride)
Then there’s Wild Card, whose name tells you right off the bat that he’s trouble in the making. Wild Card means well, but sometimes gets them into trouble, like when he “accidentally” kidnaps Laurie in Riding Steele, prompting Steele in frustration to ask him:
“How the hell did you miss the fact that the plan was not to kidnap the woman?”
(From Riding Steele)
8. Protectiveness towards his woman
I love the intense masculinity and authority of the hero, contrasted with the incredible protectiveness he feels for his woman.
9. Possessiveness towards his woman
Not only are they protective of their women, but possessive, too. (Yes, even though they share.)
Steele pulled her into a deep kiss. “You’re mine. And nothing and no one is going to change that.”
She stared at him, dumbfounded. She should say something. Set him straight.
But she liked the possessive look in his eyes. Directed at her. Despite the fact he was willing to share her, it was clear he wouldn’t give her up to anyone.
(From Riding Steele)
What about you? Why do you love biker heroes? Everyone who comments will be put in a draw to win a copy of Hot Ride!
~~~~~
Hard Ride (Ready To Ride series)
Opal’s latest book, Hard Ride, is initially being released in ebook form as a novel in three parts. The first part came out last week (April 7) and the second part this week (April 14).
Being forced to submit to a dominant biker may solve all her problems, if she doesn’t fall for him.
Liv never expected to find herself trapped in a dark alley facing a band of rough bikers. And she certainly never expected to see him again. Back in college when they dated, he was heir to his family’s business empire–and their fortune. She expected him to become a billionaire. Instead, he’s the heavily muscled, tattooed member of a rough biker gang…and just as sinfully sexy as ever.
When Shock sees Liv again, he’s ready to pay any price to have her in his bed and on his bike. Shock has his own scars to deal with, but he soon learns that Liv is in desperate need of financial help, though she won’t tell him why. So he offers her a sensual deal: his help for her complete submission. Can Liv entrust Shock with her secret…and how can she stop herself from falling for the hard rider?
Excerpt:
Once out on the street, which was pretty deserted at this time of night, Liv started walking down the road. She wanted to grab a cab, but there were no cars at all on this road right now. After a few minutes of walking, heading toward a busier street, she started to get nervous. It was at times like this she wished she still had her car, but with the drain on her finances, it was a luxury she could no longer afford.
There were some men hanging out on the corner ahead. Rough-looking men. Maybe she should go back inside and have the bartender call her a cab.
She turned and started to walk back, but as she got close to the bar, a few more rough-looking types exited the bar and started walking toward her. Their gazes locked on her.
Her stomach clenched and a chill quivered through her.
Damn Carl for leaving her stranded here. Ordinarily, she would never come to a place like this, especially alone, but Carl had insisted the only time he could meet her was after his shift as a bouncer at a nearby bar.
She turned down an alley beside her. She was pretty sure it led to the next block and she could probably catch a cab there. Or at least slip into the all-night diner she’d seen on the way here this evening.
But as she walked down the dimly lit alleyway, she wondered if she’d made a grave mistake. She couldn’t see very far ahead, but shouldn’t she see streetlights from the next block? Or headlights of cars driving by?
She heard a sound behind her and glanced over her shoulder as she picked up her pace. Her breath caught at the shadowy shapes of three men behind her. She lurched forward and ran smack into a big, solid body. She gasped as she pushed herself back from a man with a broad, muscular chest and thick, tattooed arms.
I think writers of all genres get asked this from time to time and, if one writes erotica, the question sometimes comes with an implied ‘What sort of weird/depraved/ plain odd/ person reads these?’
I have two utterly and totally true stories I love to tell in reply.
First one was shortly after my very first erotic short story was published in Best Women’s Erotic 2000. (Yes, we are going back a bit.) I was at some corporate function or other – before the dh retired I went to quite a few as I am a really nice wife. Anyway I was talking to a group of similarly really nice wives, when a young woman, I’d only just met said, ‘I understand you write erotica.’ Now, all I knew about her (other than that she was also a company wife) was she’d once been a Baptist missionary. So, bracing myself for some sort of lecture or snide look, I replied in the affirmative, and waited. She asked the title of the anthology. I told her, keeping my voice as neutral as I could but biding my time to pick up the cudgels, if necessary. Then, to my astonishment, she went on the tell me how, by the time they got their three small children to bed, she and her dh were exhausted and to liven things, they used to read each other erotica to ignite the spark.
After I closed my mouth, I couldn’t help myself smiling and almost hugged her. I think I offered to send her a signed copy.
Second story was some years on. I was at a group book signing organized by my publisher in a Borders in Akron. (The fact it was a Borders rather dates this too.) This lovely, old lady came up to the table and picked up a copy of Power Exchange. Now, when I say ‘old’ lady I don’t mean someone in her 60s. Her hair was totally white, she was slender but had the no waist no hips, body shape some really old women have and in addition, her skin had that translucent quality I associate with extreme old age. At a guess, she was in her mid-eighties if not older. And there she was with a copy of Power Exchange in her hand and all I could think was ‘Dear Heaven! If she reads that, the poor old soul will have heart failure.’
As tactfully as I could, I said, “That’s BDSM erotica.” She gave me the most gloriously, wicked smile and said. “I know dear, it’s it best, isn’t it? I love your books and my online friends have been saying I must get this one. “ She went on to tell me she’d been a widow for 20 years and never had been one to troll the bars looking for men but, with a nice, sexy read and her vibrator, she was a very contented and satisfied woman.
She went down the table, bought an armload of books and went off. I decided I wanted to be like her when I grew up.
So, for whom do I write? I write for twenty-something Baptist missionaries who are worn out after running after preschoolers all day but still love and desire their husbands, and I write for eighty or ninety something widows who still feel the need.
When Robert speaks, in his slow, deep, ‘I’ve got a surprise for you,’ voice, he gets my undivided attention. Chicken with Holy Basil can’t compete.
This was our wedding anniversary and I expected a surprise. But what? A bright, red butt plug with a green ribbon round the base? A pale-as-the-inside-of-an-oystershell, vibrating egg? Quilted, purple silk restraints? That had covered Christmas and Easter and my birthday.
Our first wedding anniversary could be anything.
He set a black, velvet jewelers box on the table. Had Robert turned conventional? Buying me a string of pearls or perhaps an add a bead necklace. Possible but highly improbable.
He nudged the box closer to my wine glass. “Open it.”
I had it opened just enough to glimpse the white satin lining in the lid, when our waiter reappeared. All he wanted was reassurance our meal was perfect but I almost slammed the lid on my finger. Maybe it was matinee length pearls but you can’t be too cautious in public. Not when you’re married to Robert Kelly.
Checking to make sure no solicitous waiter or maitre d’ loitered, I snapped open the velvet lid. It was pearls alright but I’d never wear these to the opera – I hoped.
Nestling against the velvet padding and almost reflected in the gleaming satin lining of the lid, were six, large pearls: strung on a fine twisted cord, one end sporting a polished metal ring, plenty big enough for hooking and tugging with a strong middle finger. Read the rest of this entry »
A friend of mine found me two dolls that she just knew I had to own. Sure enough, I bought them. How could I not? It’s Chucky and his bride!
The first night I owned them, I was surprised by how nervous I was going to sleep. I love being creeped out. But just as I was falling asleep, I thought I heard tiny skittering footsteps on the floor—and I had to sleep with the light on for the rest of the night. They no longer reside in my bedroom. I placed them at the entrance of my office. Yeah, the little ones do not like rushing past the creepy dolls even if they’ve never seen the movies! 🙂
So that got me thinking. I love haunted houses. But they really aren’t any fun unless I have someone with me to share the creepiness. Here’s my question. Answer for a chance to win a free download of Once in a Blue Moon.
What would it take for you to spend a night alone in a creepy old haunted house?
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Last 5 people who had something to say: ButtonsMom2003 - Laura - Jeanine Lesperance - Linda - Dana -
Setting is an important part of every book. It helps create the mood and can add texture and layers to the plot. As an author, I’ve set books in well known cities such as Chicago and New York. All I have to do is mention either of those places and the reader automatically envisions a bustling urban setting.
One of the things I like best about being a writer is that I get to create my own worlds. I can stretch my imagination and be as wild and bold as I please. Or I can pull from the past as I did in my Tapestries series when I patterned the fictional world of Javara after Medieval England, but with a twist. I created a history and mythology for Javara that included a lack of women, which was the driving force behind my ménage a trois series.
I’ve also created two rural towns—Jamesville, Maine and Salvation, North Carolina. Jamesville is loosely patterned after a town I lived in during the 1990s. It could be any small town in rural USA or Canada. There’s the diner where everyone eats, a hardware store, a general store and, of course, the sheriff’s department. Salvation is similar but the wider wilderness is more important for the Salvation Pack, my group of werewolves who just happen to reside there.
The books in my Hades’ Carnival series have been set in various states across America: Washington, North Dakota, North Carolina and Louisiana. In this series, I got to play with mythology as well. I took what is known about the Greek gods and put my own twist on it, creating a war between Hades and a lesser known goddess—the Lady of the Beasts. Of course, there had to be a curse on her faithful shapeshifting warriors. And there had to be a way to break it. Being a romance that meant only very special women could free the warriors and break the curse.
Flame of the Phoenix, a Hades’ Carnival novella, is being released from Samhain Publishing on April 14th.
Flame of the Phoenix
Hades’ Carnival, Book 6
Tilly Ledet has long been a friend of the immortal, shape-shifting warriors who follow the Lady of the Beasts, a willing helper in their battle against Hades. But now that Hades is free and unable to touch the warriors, Tilly is fair game.
When Phoenix shows up insisting she drop everything to go into hiding, Tilly balks. Phoenix is strong and courageous, but when she imagines being in his arms, the protective barriers guarding her heart slam down.
For the first time in his immortal life, Phoenix feels fear. Not for himself, but for the woman whose beauty and forthright nature heat both his mind and body. While one kiss easily ignites her passion, claiming her as his own will take more than heat.
It may require a sacrifice that could send them both up in flames.
Warning: This steamy love story may cause overheating and the possibility of bursting into flames. Read at your own risk.
What are some of your favorite fictional worlds? Be sure to share.
N.J. has always been a voracious reader, and now she spends her days writing novels of her own. Vampires, werewolves, dragons, time-travelers, seductive handymen, and next-door neighbors with smoldering good looks—all vie for her attention. It’s a tough life, but someone’s got to live it.
What happens when an author realizes she’s gone too far off the path of sensual romance, to the point that she’s gotten away from the stories that made her love the hero-to-die-for and the one woman who’ll teach him all about love while he schools her in the sensual arts?
A grinding halt, that’s what happened to my muse more than a year ago, when it took many stops and starts and even more tortuous rewrites of my last of nearly a hundred books and novellas for Ellora’s Cave Publishing—a romantic suspense cum BDSM elements that just wouldn’t come together the way my stories used to.
Why? Because Lanie and JD just weren’t up for more than the mildest BDSM play—and her marriage that wasn’t one didn’t work until I decided that she was a beard for her older, gay politician husband. The result? a story that only met EC’s sex quotient with a couple of gay, BDSM scenes between the politician and his lover—and overemphasizing JD and Lanie’s interest in kinky sex when their love life was sensual and loving, not really meant for handcuffs, whips and chains.
FATAL AFFAIR made me think, and go back to some of my first erotic romances. Truth was, most of my early EC books were strictly sensual romances—one man, one woman, working through conflicts to find their happily-ever-after endings.
I took a break and did some thinking–Ann, you write sensual romances, not erotica or even erotic romances unless the erotic part is inserted kink, sometimes more credible than other times. You shy away from menages whenever possible, substituting dystopian, scary stuff in your futuristics for kink that EC readers eat up.
That realization made me realize I needed to go back to my roots. Writing “Rand,” a novella for the MEN OF CALDER COUNTY boxed set last fall was fun, because I wasn’t pushing to get in an unwritten but very real quota of kinky sex and four-letter words. It was the first fun I’d had in years!
Since then I’ve gotten rights back on many of my old EC books, and found that revising them back to what I’d envisioned them to be has been a long journey that has the first two of a seven book series releasing April 6, with thanks to Beyond the Page Publishing, which re-edits and releases authors’ backlists. The first two books are CAPTURE ME and THE CLOSER WE GET. Don’t miss them!
Revisions, both these and five others that I’ve re-released on my own as two single-titles (A VERY SPECIAL FAVOR and BLISS HOUSE) and a series set (ROPED, HITCHED & LASSOED) have been extensive, but I’ve come up with a method that I recommend for any authors who’re trying to clean up (sanitize?) erotic romances that, if not for the forced revving up of the kink factor, would qualify as sensual, sexy but heartwarming romances that fit today’s mainstream guidelines.
Here’s my method:
1) Open the PDF file of the final draft in Word. Delete the cover, credits and end material.
2) Read through the reverted book. Note and fix any egregious errors that made their way into the final draft. Trust me, you will find some unless you had final approval of the FLE or copyeditor’s changes.
3) Use the “Find” function and look up every vulgar sex word you may have used, or that the copyeditor may have inserted without your knowledge. I’ve nothing against using a few, but over a hundred incidences of “fuck” in one novella is a bit excessive. Change all but the most fitting and necessary ones to something less repetitious. In many cases, I found that any reader could surmise from what was going on that they were having sex—substituting “him” or “her” in many cases for “cock” or “cunt” read smoother and kept the scene from sounding as though I’d tried to prove how many times I could use these words in the space of one sentence or paragraph!
4) Read again, carefully. There are some sex acts that don’t need to be repeated ad nauseum. There are also likely to be sex scenes that are pure sex, little or no emotional connection, and practically no furthering of the story, unless you count the fact that they pad word count. Either make the scenes work in context of the story or cut them out.
5) Finally, self-edit what you’ve done. I wrote a little book, SELF-EDITING FOR WRITERS, that you’ll find helpful, both with using your software to make the job easier, and finding your pet mistakes and fixing them the simplest ways possible.
Reinventing myself has given new life to my joy of writing romance! I hope these tips will be of help when you’re trying to revise and reissue your backlist, whether you’re heating up sweet stuff or cooling down erotic romances into mainstream-acceptable stories.
UPDATE: The winner of the free story is…Donamuree Holmes!
* * * * *
I’m writing like my hair’s on fire today—head down, fingers a-flyin’! Hope you have a more restful Saturday! 🙂
Post a comment today, and you’ll be entered to win a free download from either my Lone Star Lovers series or my Triple Horn Brand series! Here’s the question…
If you could acquire any fictional item for realz, what would you want and why?
Not so easy right? Do you choose Harry Potter’s cloak of invisibility so you can stalk your favorite movie star without being detected? (I have no clue why that popped into my mind first—cough, Chris Hemsworth naked in the bath!) Or how about Sherlock Holmes’ pipe? (I want whatever he was smoking!) And there you go. Have fun!
And just a reminder, I do have a sexy, new story out there right now…
Jackson Lowry cussed softly when he spotted the blue lights spinning at the roadblock just ahead. Too late to turn back now. He’d only draw more attention.
Squaring his jaw, he rolled down his window and forced a polite smile as he peered into the darkness at the sheriff’s deputy checking IDs with a flashlight.
As soon as the deputy waved the car in front of him to move along and turned to watch the black pickup roll forward, Jackson’s tension eased a fraction.
Maynard Colby’s expression turned from crisply professional to worried in a second, as soon as he recognized Jackson. “Dammit, Jackson, where have you been?”
“Around. Why?”
A soft moan sounded beside him, and Jackson reached surreptitiously beside him to tap the tarp covering his precious load.
“You didn’t hear?” At Jackson’s vague expression, Maynard stepped onto the truck rail and leaned toward Jackson. “It’s Sammi Jo. Her car was found in Shooter’s parking lot, the door wide open. No one’s seen her. Looks like she’s been snatched.”
Jackson cleared his throat. “How serious is this gettin’?”
“It’s only been a couple of hours, but Sammi Jo’s daddy is buckin’ to get the sheriff to call in the FBI, the CIA, the ATF—and whatever other agency his money can buy to find her. I tried callin’ you, but your phone kept goin’ to voicemail. After the way things went down at the weddin’ last Sunday, I don’t blame you a bit for layin’ low, but I thought you’d wanna know.”
Another sound, this time a snort, sounded beside him.
Maynard’s gaze cut to the dirty tarp folded over a moving bundle on the floor of the cab. A ruddy eyebrow shot up. “What’s goin’ on, Jackson?”
Jackson rolled his eyes then pulled up the corner of the tarp to reveal a bound and gagged Sammi Jo whose eyes glittered furiously back at both men.
Maynard barked a laugh then tightened his lips. “This time you’ve gone and done it, boy. This is seriously fucked up.” He laughed again, then tipped his hat to Sammi Jo. “No disrespect meant, missy.”
Jackson cleared his throat. “Don’t s’pose you can forget about this?”
Maynard’s gaze shot to Sammi Jo again, raked her once as though ensuring she didn’t look to be in any real danger, then tipped back his cowboy hat. “Tell ya what. I’ll put a bug in the sheriff’s ear, but she better come walkin’ through the po-lice house doors come Monday mornin’.”
“Not a word to her daddy?”
One corner of Maynard’s mouth crooked up. “Man’s already caused enough problems. Deserves to cool his heels a couple o’ days. Don’t do nothin’ I’ll have to arrest you for.”
With a nod, Jackson rolled up the window and pulled past the barricade. In his side mirror, he watched as Maynard crossed to the other deputy’s car and both men bent over laughing.
“See that, Sammi Jo?” he murmured, not expecting an answer because he’d made double-damn sure he’d tied some serious knots and gagged her pretty mouth. “I’m not the only one who thinks you need a good paddlin’.”
*~*~*~*~*
If you’d like to check out more of my recent short story releases…
I’ve been writing paranormal erotic romance for several years. My heroes and heroines have been werewolves, vampires, dragons, angels and demons. This year, I’ve added a mountain cat to my list of shifter characters.
Mountain lion, cougar, puma and catamounts are common names for the big cats native to North America. The large cats are fierce predators. They hiss, growl and scream. They are tawny in color, resembling a lion. My heroine is a Catamount, the name shortened from cat of the mountain.
I like cats and creating a cat shifter heroine is exciting. Big cats are sleek and powerful, agile and quick, quiet and elusive. I like those attributes in a heroine.
Shifter characters have features, abilities and attributes beyond a human. A cat shifter has fur, fangs, whiskers, tail, paws and claws. A shifter characters has two forms, the human and the paranormal. The essence of the character lives in both forms. While in human form I want my shifters to exhibit the abilities of his or her animal form. My werewolf shifter has an extraordinary sense of smell, my dragon shifter blow smokes and my cat shifter purrs.
In my new series, Thunder Wolves, my shifter characters live in a world shared by humans. My hero is a werewolf. Werewolves and mountain cats are natural enemies and usually avoid one another. The intense mutual attraction between my hero and heroine defies the accepted rules of their shifter worlds.
I like breaking the rules.
The first book in my Thunder Wolves series is Thorne, a story about my werewolf hero falling for Madison, a human empath. The second book, Clay, introduces Kissa, my mountain cat heroine.
Thunder Wolves: CLAY
Kissa Troy mistakenly believes she’s safe in her identity as Beth Smith. No one knows she’s a mountain cat shifter and hiding from the Catamounts, a dangerous shifter cult. One day, a sexy alpha wolf walks into her life. Shaking off a determined wolf isn’t easy. When she’s tracked down by the Catamounts, Kissa turns to the wolf for protection.
Wolves and mountain cats are natural enemies, but all it takes is one breath and Clay Thunder is hooked. The sex is hot. The attraction is undeniable. She may be a cat with trouble on her tail, but she’s the one.
Still. A wolf and a mountain cat?
Excerpt from Clay
Beth. Her life was a lie. Another reason not to get involved with Clay.
He held out his arms. “I promise not to bite.”
She wanted to be held, to lose herself in his arms, to experience passion, to feel alive. Would a couple of hours in his bed prove more heartbreaking than satisfying? He waited until she stepped toward him. He was warm and she found comfort in his strong arms. Kissa inhaled, slowly, deeply. Her blood sang.
Clay cupped her face in his hand and ran his thumb over her lower lip. She knew he wanted to kiss her. A smart cat would move away, but she was caught in the spell of his scent. She lifted her chin, offering her mouth. The moment his lips touched hers, she was on fire.
He didn’t grope her or pull at her clothing. He simply kissed her, slowly, thoroughly and that was her undoing. Her blood burned. Her heart pounded. Her pussy throbbed. She was lost. Her doubts slid away and her fears were overpowered by desire.
Clay lifted his head and took a deep breath. “You feel it. You smell it. It’s more than arousal.”
“It just pheromones. Physical chemistry.”
“It’s stronger than that, but you didn’t want to go out with me. Yet, you called. What made you change your mind?”
“Wolf. Cat. Had to think about it.”
“But that’s not the reason you called.”
“I like your scent.”
“I like yours, but it wasn’t arousal I smelled when you climbed on my bike. I know the scent of fear.”
She stepped out of his arms. “You know how to ruin the moment.”
“I want the moment. I want it bad. What are you afraid of?”
Kissa hated to lie, but her life was series of false identities and phony backgrounds. Using the wolf for a few hours was bad enough. Dragging him into her troubles was unforgivable. The Catamounts would kill him for giving her shelter.
“There have been break-ins in my area. I thought someone was in my apartment, so I got out of there.”
“Why didn’t you go back to Murphy’s?”
“I thought about it, but I was curious about you. So I called.”
Clay pushed his fingers through her hair and cupped her head in his hand. “You’re safe with me, Beth.”
Safe. She had begun to believe that true safety was an illusion.
“If you don’t want to talk, fine, but don’t lie to me.”
The wolf was too perceptive. He wanted the truth. “I’ve never been with a wolf. It should feel wrong, but it doesn’t.”
A smile teased his lips. “I’ve never been with a cat.”
“What should we do?”
He slipped his hands around her waist and drew her close. “Satisfy your curiosity.”
*~*~*~*~*~*
B.J. McCall is published by Changeling Press, eRedSage, Cobblestone Press and Ellora’s Cave. Her books are available at Amazon, Kobo, B&N and Are.
First one was shortly after my very first erotic short story was published in Best Women’s Erotic 2000. (Yes, we are going back a bit.) I was at some corporate function or other – before the dh retired I went to quite a few as I am a really nice wife. Anyway I was talking to a group of similarly really nice wives, when a young woman, I’d only just met said, ‘I understand you write erotica.’ Now, all I knew about her (other than that she was also a company wife) was she’d once been a Baptist missionary. So, bracing myself for some sort of lecture or snide look, I replied in the affirmative, and waited. She asked the title of the anthology. I told her, keeping my voice as neutral as I could but biding my time to pick up the cudgels, if necessary. Then, to my astonishment, she went on the tell me how, by the time they got their three small children to bed, she and her dh were exhausted and to liven things, they used to read each other erotica to ignite the spark.
So that got me thinking. I love haunted houses. But they really aren’t any fun unless I have someone with me to share the creepiness. Here’s my question. Answer for a chance to win a free download of 
I like cats and creating a cat shifter heroine is exciting. Big cats are sleek and powerful, agile and quick, quiet and elusive. I like those attributes in a heroine.
