My only Christmas story to date, and of course it’s about a vampire. The short story was written in 2005 when Hurricane Katrina was still weighing heavily on everyone’s mind.
Enjoy the snippet. And Happy Holiday!
In the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina, Noelle Moyaux questions her gift of sight until a chance encounter with a mysterious stranger sets her on a path to save his soul.
Magnus Thornton is a millennium-old vampire who has found evidence of an old foe’s evil at work in the demolished city of New Orleans. Weary of the fight, he decides to greet the coming dawn after a night reveling in his favorite things–a bottle of Bordeaux and a willing woman.
Noelle seems the answer, but she quickly creeps into his heart-the vampire, so jaded from life he never speaks, must now persuade Noelle to flee the city before it’s too late.
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Noelle Moyaux flicked off the battery-powered Christmas lights that ringed her metal cart, folded her purple tablecloth into a small tidy square and tucked it and the folding table inside the cart before latching the lid closed.
She wheeled the cart across the busy street and waved to her friend Gerard, the owner of a small Cajun restaurant. Continuing around the back of the eatery, she stowed her palmistry kiosk in the storage unit she’d rented from Gerard since before the troubles.
Today’s earnings were slim, despite the unseasonably warm weather that allowed the thin-blooded residents of the city to roam the streets in light jackets. No one believed in a future amid the chaos—and some questioned her ability since she’d received no divination of the coming catastrophe. Indeed, Noelle questioned her gift daily as she sat beneath her umbrella in front of the embroidered cloth advertising “Noelle’s News”.
If not for the little nest egg of money she’d saved from substitute teaching before the flood, she’d be in dire straits.
Clutching her purse close to her side, she headed down the street toward home.
One last night. One last chance to lose myself in The Hunger, a fine glass of wine and the body of a willing woman. Before my last sunrise—the first I will see in nearly a thousand years…
Noelle heard the quiet, fleeting thought as she passed through the crowd ambling along Bourbon Street and spun to find the owner. The inner voice that accompanied the thought was masculine and raspy. Added to the familiar spark of connection when her skin had brushed against his was a wash of the blackest melancholy she’d ever sensed. It nearly drowned her in despair. Read the rest of this entry »
Wanna know what makes me cry? The old Hallmark commercials for sure. But I received something last night that hit me right at my core. I’m a storyteller. It’s what I do, but it’s also what I am. I work damn hard. Sure, I get to wear jammies and sweats and my office is just feet away from where I sleep. That doesn’t sound so tough, right? Well, sometimes it really is. When I wrote Ravished by a Viking, there were so many factors I didn’t have control over. The cover—I mean, what’s with the kilt? The print run. It’s not nearly large enough to impress. My publisher’s support. Well, since I’m new to Berkley, I’m kinda on my own. What I did have control over was the story. And it came straight from my heart. Back to what I received last night…
I opened my email to my first review. What touched me was that the reviewer knew what I accomplished was damn hard. And she got it. All of it. I’m including the whole review here, but it’s posted on her website too, Alien Places.
Ravished by a Viking
a novel by Delilah Devlin
Reviewed by Masha Holl
Clash of cultures, clash of myths, clash of powerful personalities: it should be easy to review Ravished by a Viking, a novel of erotic science fiction by Delilah Devlin. After all, how many authors can bring out on paper the excitement and more-than-willing suspension of disbelief that old fashioned adventure stories once brought us?
A kidnapped brother. A battle of wills between a ship’s captain and a planetary warlord. On one side, human colonists toughened by the harsh environment they’ve mastered, and who still praise and reward sheer physical strength. On the other, a galactic empire used to relying on the power of energy weapons and science.
And in the middle, our heroes. Men, women, wills and desires. Dagr, Clan-leader of the Wolfskins, who only looks like an unpolished barbarian. And Honora Turgay, who loses her ship to the Viking leader, but never surrenders her determination.
Ravished by a Viking is a myth come to life, but it’s also the story of two people: adventure, passion, discovery, transformation. All of Delilah’s scenes burn with energy, whether she writes believable, exciting, and heart-pounding action scenes, or scorching, breath-stealing, and enviable sexual encounters.
Yes, it should be easy to review one of Delilah Devlin’s stories, because each one of them delivers the promise of a great read, abundant humor, and larger-than-life characters. Delilah is a born storyteller, and knows how to build the tension on all levels, entwining sensual conquest with a growing friendship between the main characters, slowly turning what could become redundant sniping into clever flirting. And most importantly, she always surprises the reader – and sometimes the characters themselves.
But a reviewer should also announce to the reader what to expect beyond the open cover. Is it a romance? Of course, and I’ll say no more. But that would leave out the cleverly built and logical world of space-travel and alien societies her characters inhabit.
Is is science fiction? Of course. We have space-travel and ancient civilizations and the kind of questions science-fiction authors like to ask. But that would leave out the intense relationships between the characters.
Is it erotica? Oh yes, with scenes as hot and intense as Delilah can write, as charged emotionally as they are physically, it has to be. But that would leave out the character development and the world building and the tight plotting.
Yes, it was hard to write a review of Ravished by a Viking when the story speaks for itself you’re ready to re-read rather than write about it. But if I didn’t, you wouldn’t hear about it, and you’d miss a wonderful, action-packed, emotional roller-coaster of a read.
Today’s the last day to enter! AND you can enter again! Just Tweet, Facebook, or blog about this book and send me the link!
So this is the thing I need your help with. I’d like to get this widget spread as far and wide as I can. Read the contest instructions. There are TWO! Your suggestions regarding how to proliferate this over the web for the next three weeks would be appreciated!
On January 4, 2011, Ravished by a Viking will release. It’s my first book with Berkley and the start of a new series. In the coming weeks, I’ll be looking for help from those of you who enjoy my books to get the word out. I’ll have a contest with some great prizes that will have a widget for you to proliferate. I’ll be giving peeks into the story to whet your appetites. If sales happen for this book, then I’ll get the chance to write more for Berkley. So whether you see more books from this world really does all depend on you.
If you’ve ever dreamed of fierce warriors, worlds filled with strange wonders and horrors, and love that endures terrible trials, I do believe I have the series for you. Here’s a first peek. And if you’d like to read a longer excerpt, you can go here: Chapter One
When his younger brother goes missing, Dagr, Viking warrior and Lord of the Wolfskin Clan, will do whatever it takes to get him back. But nothing could have prepared him for Honora—a feisty, intelligent woman who is nothing like the women of his world—women who are content to serve their men in all things. Drawn to her despite her recalcitrant nature, Dagr is determined to show her who’s boss both in bed and out.
When the two enemies-turned-lovers join forces to find Dagr’s brother they are thrown into a rousing adventure full of danger, intrigue and erotic abandon. Can their passion truly unite them or will their different worlds lead to destruction for them both?
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The great hall of the Berserkir king’s keep was filled to capacity with the clan’s warriors. Light cast from the iron chandeliers high above the black marble floors gleamed on the muted metal-fiber composite of their armor and the steel nozzles of the laser-spears they held.
Birget stood among the Valkyrja contingent, which formed a half circle around King Sigmund’s throne. As his personal guard, they were the only females allowed inside the hall on this night. True to the traditional nature of the tiny band, they wore hammered metal breastplates over their modern, black uniforms, the gold outer plate embossed with the figure of Freya, their patron goddess, standing in her feline-drawn chariot. Because a truce had been called, their swords remained sheathed, their shields stayed locked inside the armory, and they’d left off their gold, conical helmets.
Word had come that Dagr, clan-lord to the Wolfskins, had been spotted off-shore, his plain, unadorned skiff sailing between the frozen peaks of Hymir’s Sea until he’d skidded onto the rocky beach beneath the fortress walls.
Soldiers had been dispersed to keep watch along the shore to find the rest of his floti, but strangely, none were spotted. He’d come alone.
“Has he gone daft? Or does he believe his own legends?” her sister Ilse asked, clutching her pike.
Dagr, the leader of the Wolfskin clan, struck awe in the hearts of all Berserkirs. His many fierce battles with their army had grown his stature to epic proportions, some even saying that Thor himself had bestowed his blessing on the sword of the great warrior king.
“Quiet, daughters,” Sigmund said. “Whatever brings him here alone cannot bode well for the rest of us.”
“We should capture him,” Birget muttered, unimpressed with the Ulfhednar warrior’s reputation. Dagr was a man like any other—complete with faults. “If he is stupid enough to enter this hall alone,” she groused, “we should enjoy the spectacle.”
Her father shot her a reproving look. “He comes under a flag of truce,” he said for her ears only. “We won’t dishonor our promise to leave him unmolested upon his arrival. We will listen to what he has to say—before we decide whether to detain him.” He gave her a little waggle of his eyebrows.
Birget suppressed a smile and straightened.
The large metal doors at the entrance of the keep creaked open. Bearshirt soldiers marched into the hall, the contingent surrounding the enemy king. When they parted in front of the dais upon which Sigmund’s throne sat, a tall black-haired warrior strode fearlessly from their center.
Birget’s breath caught, her incredulity forgotten. If her future husband was cut from the same cloth, she was doomed.
Dagr, the Black Wolf, stood taller than most of the Beserkir warriors around him. His thickly muscled body radiated strength the way the “pure light” did heat, blaring potent masculinity and power.
His features were harsh and colder than the gray stones cut from Odin’s Mountain peaks to build this fortress. Black brows sheltered deep-set, piercing blue eyes. The sharp-bladed nose, chiseled cheekbones, and square jaw reflected granite will.
Rustling sounded as the warriors inside the hall tensed, and Birget understood their anxiety. Yes, he might stand alone, but who would want to be the first to draw a weapon against such a man? He looked and dressed like a savage, like the legendary warriors from their shared past.
A black wolf’s head sat atop his long dark hair, the eyes of the dead beast seeming to glitter with menace. Bearskin cloaked his massive shoulders. A silver metal breastplate spanned his broad chest. His thick, muscular legs were encased in leather and fur, as were his boots.
His only weapons were the large, double-headed axe that peeked above his head from where it rested between wide shoulders, the famed sword that hung at one side of his hips, and a long, thick-bladed knife sheathed at the other. Primitive weapons, but no one now staring at him doubted he’d be deadly in a fight.
Fury emanated from every inch of his taut frame.
“Lord Dagr,” her father intoned, lowering his chin in a decidedly undeferential manner.
Birget wondered how her father managed to sound so confident when her whole body was strung tighter than a bow.
“My brother,” Dagr ground out in a deep, raspy baritone. “Is he with you?”
If you post a comment today, you’ll be in the running
for a free download of this book!
Enjoy! I still haven’t quite figured out how Garon will fit with my modern knights, but I’m sure it will come as I write more. Or perhaps, I should have a parallel medieval story running neck and neck with the modern knights’ stories. What do you think?
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“…Maddie is a unique heroine that readers will love and Garon is an alpha hero that will thrill the readers. First Knight is the perfect erotic paranormal romance to start fires in the bedroom. Ms. Devlin gives the readers what they want and so much more. I loved First Knight and it rocked my world.” 5 Angels, Fallen Angels Reviews
“…Delilah Devlin is a wonderful author and First Knight is a good example of her amazing skill with the written word…All the characters come to life with their vivid descriptions…This is a tale of deep, true love with a little something extra! I enjoyed First Knight and think you will too!”
5 Hearts, The Romance Studio
“…It is both well written and entertaining, making it a complete joy for hard-core romance readers. I would highly recommend this to anyone who love their heroes edgy, and there heroines just as intense.”
Four Stones, Siren Book Reviews
While hiding her true identity, Maddie must seduce the mysterious Lord Garon to cement their marriage contract to ensure she won’t be returned into her lecherous stepfather’s care.
Fresh from Crusade in Palestine, Lord Garon has a secret he must hide, a hunger that must be fed, and a dark and uncertain future. Having shed himself of a fiancée he never met, he’s home to lick his wounds. The only thing he wants is a warm-blooded meal—but the new housekeeper is strangely insistent on giving him much more.
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Maddie shivered at the creaks and groans the portcullis made as it slowly rose. The rain-laden wind carried the noises and filled the silences in between with a howling that sounded like the hounds from hell had arrived at the castle gate.
Shouts outside the curtain wall had alerted them only minutes before of Lord Garon d’Albermarle’s arrival. With only a bliaut over her sleeping shift, Maddie stood on the first step of the keep, holding a tray with a goblet of wine, ready to offer a proper greeting to her overlord.
“Are you sure this is the way you wish to go about this, M-Maddie?” Egbert asked, fidgeting at her side.
She swallowed against the sudden dryness in her mouth and nodded.
“It be on your head then,” he said, his always-mournful tone as dire as one of Father Ansel’s Sunday sermons. She sent thanks above that the cranky priest was away or her deception wouldn’t last past the introductions.
The clatter of dozens of hooves on the cobbled bridge beyond the gate filled the castle yard with thunder. From the encroaching darkness, the sounds were as ominous as the dark shapes looming on the gatehouse walls. The torches she’d ordered lit sputtered and flared, distorting and elongating shapes so the men riding through the entrance appeared as tall as giants.
Already tired and on edge because she hadn’t slept since a messenger had arrived, warning the castle of his lordship’s arrival days before, Maddie’s fevered imagination painted them darker and larger still.
“Be they devils?” Egbert asked, his narrow shoulders shaking. “No one travels on a night with nary a speck of light in the sky.”
“Hush!” The storm whipping at her clothing and the fatigue from months of worry over this very moment combined to make her hands shake and blackened an already foul mood.
The horsemen entered the bailey and a large figure separated from the contingent who approached the keep. As he drew closer, her fears weren’t eased one whit. The warrior sat atop a huge black destrier, forcing her to raise her gaze quite high to seek his face. Read the rest of this entry »
Again, I need you to help me figure out what happens next in my ongoing free series, Cat Tails. You remember. My intrepid erotica writer DiDi Devereaux came to a sleepy little town in the Louisiana Bayou to check out the house her eccentric aunt left her. Along the way, she wrecked her car, met the town’s sexy sheriff and the bad boy, had a sexy threesome with them both while she was under the influence of the sheriff’s sexy “mark”—and now she’s settling into her new home and liking the sheriff more and more.
However, there’s a mystery in the town. One the sheriff’s determined to keep her from discovering. The full moon is rising, and along with it, “The Prowl” is about to begin.
So my first question is: What exactly happens during The Prowl?
I have a hazy idea of what happens in the next chapter, but need you to help me flesh it out. Remember, this is your story, so you have to tell me what happens next.
I think the elders will ambush Mason. He’s taken a vow to stay clear of the The Prowl to ensure the community’s continued safety, which means he should have stayed clear of lovely DiDi. But he’s already in too deep to back away now.
So next question: Why would Mason make a vow like that in the first place? Is there something in his past he feels he must atone for?
In the meantime, DiDi’s back at her aunt’s place, but she’s curious about the rest of the property. She hadn’t realized the dock existed that extends over the river where she and Mason last had sex. Now, she finds a little flat-bottomed boat and decides to head across the river/bayou to see what’s on the other side. I think this will be key to what The Prowl is all about.
So last question is: What does she find across the river?
This is a brainstorming process, so there’s no such thing as a stupid idea. And you can build on someone else’s suggestion. I’m not going to offer the prize to the person who gives me the idea I like best. I will simply draw a name at random among everyone who posts an idea.
What’s the prize? How about a $25 gift certificate from Amazon.com? When will I close this contest down? How about on Thursday? That will give you all plenty of time to think and play.
And as I’ve done every step along the way, I won’t be making the decision of which ideas work best. I will select three or four answers to each question then run a poll for you to choose. We’ve only just begun the fun!
I was roaming the Samhain site late last night, and guess what I saw on their coming soon page? I’ll be sure to share sneak peek of what lies between the covers soon! ~DD
Two men plus one woman equals three bodies on fire…
A Red Hot Winter story.
True Wyatt’s hands are going to be full enough keeping the herd alive through the dead of winter. The last thing he needs to hear is that his brother Lonny has rented out their isolated hunting cabin to a reclusive writer—especially a sassy, disaster-prone brunette. Who has time to babysit a city girl until spring?
With a deadline looming, erotica writer Honey Cahill is looking forward to six distraction-free weeks to finish her next book. However, between Lonny’s flirty sensuality and True’s hard-edged intensity, the Wyatt brothers set the stage of her imagination for a winter of wicked delights.
The fire that destroys the cabin, though, is as real as it gets. Forced to seek a bed under True and Lonny’s roof, the temptation to experiment—all in the name of research, of course—is overpowering. One night in their arms doesn’t feel like enough; it feels like more. Particularly with one cowboy who fires all her cylinders…
Warning: It’s a Devlin ménage—expect men with stamina and not an ounce of mercy to behave like sex gods, and the lucky woman to love every minute of it. A little domination goes a long, long way…
My only Christmas story to date, and of course it’s about a vampire. The short story was written in 2005 when Hurricane Katrina was still weighing heavily on everyone’s mind.
