The authors who contributed to the this awesome anthology are all pitching in posts and prizes for this blog tour. You’ll want to visit every site and post a comment for multiple chances to win! Don’t worry if a date has passed, the prizes won’t be awarded until after the last date of the tour! Join us!

August 13:  All I want and more
August 14:  Delighted Reader Book Reviews
August 15:  REVIEW ONLY  Reviews by Molly 
August 16:  Novel Reflections
August 16:  STOP 2  Queen of the Night Reviews
August 17:  Ramblings From This Chick
August 20:  The Menagerie Authors
August 21:  Wickedly Wanton Tales
August 21:  REVIEW ONLY The Brunette Librarian
August 22:  Seductive Musings
August 23:  Love to Read Romance
August 24:  Erzabet’s Enchantments
August 28: Long and Short Reviews

The list of prizes includes:

* Cowboy Bad Boys (digital) by Randi Alexander
* Reader’s Choice of any backlisted ebook by Lissa Matthews
* Reader’s Choice of any backlisted ebook by Charlene Teglia during her stop
* Reader’s Choice of any backlisted ebook by Cari Quinn (x4)
* “I’ll show you my e-reader if you show me yours” T-shirt (Large size) from Kimber Vale
* Reader’s Choice of any backlisted ebook by Delilah Devlin during her stops (x2)
* Signed copies of Cowboy Fever by Delilah Devlin to two winners
* Love in Short Order (digital), a romance by Michael Bracken writing as Rolinda Hay
* Stud (digital), an erotic romance by Michael Bracken writing as Rolinda Hay
Plus the $50 Amazon GC grand prize!

Movie Moments of Stillness – A Creative Necessity

Movie references tend to creep into my stories a lot; in my most recent paranormal release, In the Company of Witches, my heroine Raina (half-succubus, all witch) is a big fan of the movie Titanic, and she and Mikhael, my hero (a Dark Guardian, something like a cop/sorcerer), end up necking in a theater where they’re showing New Moon (I’m not ashamed to admit it – I LOVE the Twilight movies!). Anyhow, though I’m a bit of a movie addict…(ahem – 500+ DVD library and counting!), the movies serve a creative purpose, as any source of good storytelling does. In fact, this week they helped me turn a flat, ugly scene into something worth reading. To make that happen, I employed what I call the “Moment of Stillness” exercise. Let me explain, with a few less parentheses (lol).

There’s an amazing movie called The Legend of Bagger Vance, with Matt Damon and Will Smith. It centers around a golf game between Matt Damon’s relatively unknown character, Junuh, and golf legends Bobby Jones and Walter Hagen. During the movie, there’s a part where Bagger (Will Smith) tells Junuh to watch Bobby Jones when he steps up to the ball to take his swing. Once Bobby arrives at the tee, everything else disappears. He clears his mind completely, and when he does, a synergy of instinct and experience happen—and so does a great shot. It’s as Bagger tells Junuh: “All we got to do is get ourselves outta it’s way.”

I have noticed this theme in other movies. In Finding Neverland, Johnny Depp portrays playwright J.M. Barrie, who wrote Peter Pan. Caught in writer’s block, he strikes up a friendship with a widow and her children. As he gets lost in the enjoyment of being with them (rather than worrying about his stale play), he starts “seeing” a new story, Peter Pan. There’s an extraordinary scene where the boys are jumping on their beds but, in J.M.’s imagination, he sees them bounce, bounce, and then begin to fly through the air, finally soaring out the window, just as will eventually happen in the Peter Pan story.

In Star Trek – Insurrection, Captain Picard meets a people who have slowed down the aging process. In a lovely moment with one of the female leaders of the community, he is sitting by a stream with her where she helps him “stay in this moment”. We see a hummingbird’s wingbeats get so slow we can see the delicate wing structure, everything in slow motion.

Final example – Sherlock Holmes with Robert Downey, Jr and Jude Law. In both the first and second installment of these incredible movies, there are times Sherlock, with his amazing ability to anticipate action and reaction, shows in slow motion what will unfold and plans his response to it, all before it happens. Though in reality, it all happens very quickly, it is slow and steady in his head, the rest of the world tuned out.

Anyhow, this process of slowing down the mind, opening it up, “getting out of its way” is vital in almost every creative endeavor. It becomes absolutely essential to find this method when you evolve from doing something you love merely because you love it, and doing it professionally. Business and creativity have always had an uneasy relationship. For instance, the athlete who is pure poetry on the broken asphalt of the inner city basketball court, must learn to hold onto that craftsmanship when playing for a million dollar contract, with the demands of team owner, fans, etc piled on his back.

On the same note, writers have to make the transition from scribbling away in their glorious solitude, where getting published is no more than a distant pipe dream, to being an author who writes on deadline, meeting promo requirements, answering copious amounts of email, social networking, etc… Yet every subsequent story must be a creative and fresh as the ones they created in the beginning, in their little private cubbyhole.

Impossible? Nope. Not with that moment of stillness. At the beginning of this post, I claimed that “moment of silence” had really helped me this week. I was working on the latest book in my Vampire Queen Series, Taken by a Vampire, which features a threesome—Evan, my vampire hero, his Scottish servant Niall, and Alanna, the rigidly trained Inherited Servant who has come under their protection until her treasonous Master is apprehended.  My editor needs a partial sooner than expected, so over the past several weeks I’ve been typing furiously, getting that first draft vomited out onto the pages (yeah, no better way to put it than that). But now I’m in the first edit. I can do the “barf to meet deadline” for only so long before my soul shrivels up into a husk.

So I take a deep breath, slow it all down. Surround myself with that creative stillness, and tap deeper into who and what my characters are, where they are, etc. As such, what was a pretty bland, bare-bones section became the following, which I like much better, even though this is still only a rough first draft. I’m too proud to give you the first version for comparison; just imagine blah blah blah, vomit, vomit, vomit, and you’ll have the essence of it – grin. Read the rest of this entry »

Thanks so much to everyone who followed me around the blogosphere this week!
Winners should be named shortly! ~DD

I wrote my very first cowboy story in 2007. It was a short story and my first attempt at writing in first person. Something I wrote for a friend who was starting up a new publishing company. I loved this cowboy so much, I wrote another and another…

Post a comment here today and you can win a free download of COWBOY.

Caught in a sudden thunderstorm on a lonely stretch of Texas highway, I pull into a dingy little diner to wait out the rain, never dreaming the cowboy of my dreams would follow me inside. Now I have a couple of choices, play it coy and safe? Or go for the big brass buckle…

Lightning clawed the dark like a crow’s foot, illuminating thick thunderheads that glowed yellow-green and ominous. The color of the sky before a tornado twisted its nasty tail.

Glad to be out of the rain and safe from the jagged, streaking light, I shivered against the cool vinyl booth as another flash lashed out like the end of a whip, lighting the horizon so intensely that for a moment the darkened parking lot was bright as high noon.

That was when I saw the large pickup roll in, pulling a horse trailer. It ground to a halt beside the diner’s plateglass window. The driver wasn’t going to bother trying to park it in the flooded lot.

I heard the muffled slam of the truck door, but the end of the lightning strike flickered out, plunging the parking lot back into darkness. The driver would be soaked before he even hit the door. Only twelve feet, but the rain was coming down in sheets. I’d been lucky, arriving before the worst of the storm struck. Mostly dry, I’d peered through the window at the deepening night, waiting for a lull. Read the rest of this entry »

Fox’s Folly is a first in a couple of ways. It’s my first male-male book, though I’ve written a few m/m short stories, including one that was published as standalone ebook. It’s my first prequel. It’s the prequel Foxes’ Den (Duals and Donovans: the Different 2), which is why, though Fox’s Folly is a Duals and Donovans book, it doesn’t have a series number. And it’s the first book an editor specifically sparked me to write.

At the time my Samhain editor, the fabulous Linda Ingmanson, accepted Foxes’ Den, which is a menage involving a married male couple—witch Paul and fox shape-shifter Tag—and the kitsune they both come to love, she said she’d love to see a book about how Paul and Tag met. At the time, I wasn’t sure how they’d met, only that it had involved some element of danger and, given Tag’s character and his connection to the god Trickster, probably some element of oddness. I let the idea stew in the back of my mind for a while and then it came to me. Las Vegas! They meet in Las Vegas, where they’re both fish out of water. Donovan witches are very connected to nature and not very connected to the more materialistic aspects of mainstream human culture. Duals (my take on shape-shifters) simply don’t like cities, where their animalsides feel confined and they’re more likely to have trouble from the repressive Agency. But what if Paul and Tag had to be in Las Vegas for some good reason? Say, to catch a magical serial killer?

And so the book was born.

PS: Stop by my blog, http://www.teresanoelleroberts.com, and leave a comment on the CONTEST! Win a Copy of Fox’s Folly for—you guessed it—a chance to win a copy of the book.

What happens in Vegas lasts forever…if you’re lucky.

A Duals and Donavans story

Las Vegas is the wrong place for an inexperienced witch like Paul Donavan. But he has no choice; his family owes a debt of honor to a half-fae casino owner, whose guests have been dying under mysterious circumstances. The normy police haven’t connected the dots between the deaths, and the owner has called in his marker.

When Paul literally runs into fox dual Taggart Ross, the instant, powerful attraction between them bristles with red flags. Not only should there be no sparks between him and this “hillbilly with a tail,” the fact is a dual couldn’t have committed murder-by-magic. But until he’s got proof, caution rules.

Tag’s own suspicions are on high alert. Magic killed his favorite uncle, and Paul, who senses Tag’s dual nature way too easily, should be a prime suspect. Except Tag’s libido responds to the witch in a way that shouldn’t happen.

Whatever this thing is between them, the raw sexual energy feeds a power that becomes their best hope of drawing out the killer before he, she, or it strikes again. Until love gets involved, and things get real complicated, real fast…

“I think we’re here for the same reason. Does the name Randolph-Macon McNeil mean anything to you?”

“One of the five people who’ve died under mysterious circumstances lately at the Excalibur. Sixty-two, professional gambler, fox dual…” He spoke dispassionately, as if reciting facts from a report. Then he paused, and a look of horror crossed his face “Was he family, Tag? I’m so sorry…”

“My uncle. I’m here to find out who the fuck killed him and take him down hard.”

“No, you won’t. We will.” Paul’s voice was soft and professorial, but something in his tone made the words ring in the air with the force of an oath before the gods.

“Really? Do you mean that?” Tag tried to keep the emotion out of his voice, but that wasn’t the fox way. He was tough, tougher than most, but he’d loved his uncle.

And he hated to admit it, but he needed all the help he could get. He’d gotten into this figuring he’d find the killer and then call in reinforcements, but if Uncle Randolph was the fifth victim, and a fae had asked for help dealing with it, Tag needed magic, not just muscle. “Really?” he repeated, feebly aware he should be saying something wittier but unable to make his brain work at proper speed.

“Really. I got drafted to do this. For you, it’s personal. Hearth, heart and home fuel magic. We’ll be stronger together than we are alone. And you look like you shouldn’t be alone.”

The next thing Tag knew, Paul’s arms were around him.

Damn, Paul could kiss, and his hands, even when they weren’t touching anywhere Tag would normally consider an erogenous zone, sent heat through Tag’s body. Maybe it was magic, or maybe the guy was just that talented. At this point, Tag didn’t care. All he really cared about was seeing how long they could go without thinking about dead people and just focusing on sex, or at least the yummy preliminaries to sex.

Tag was fumbling with the buttons on Paul’s dress shirt—too formal by comparison to what everyone else seemed to wear in Las Vegas, almost silky under his hands although it was cotton—when someone knocked at the door. “Housekeeping always shows up at the worst times,” Paul muttered before throwing himself into kissing Tag so thoroughly that Tag forgot not only the persistent knock on the door but the day of the week and the reason he was in Las Vegas. He was working up to forgetting his name when the door opened, and a man walked into the room.

I’m on my way this morning with my sister, Myla Jackson, to attend the Diamond State Romance Authors meeting. Another kind of family meeting from the one you’ll read below! The Logans lives change from this pivotal moment when they come to a decision as a group. Has your family ever had one of those “pivotal” moments?

Post a comment today and win a free download of your choice of Lone Star Lovers stories!

“A FOUR-GONE CONCLUSION is a prime example on how a novella should be written; fast and fun, touching characters that pull you in and a story that is completely fulfilling.”

~ 4.5 Cherries, Long and Short Reviews

One devilish night…or a chance at heaven?

Sam Logan’s foster sons have a bad rep in Two Mule, Texas. Most of it earned. When it becomes clear they don’t plan on giving up scootin’ after ever pretty pair of boots in town anytime soon, he issues the one thing he knows they can’t resist: a challenge. Find a wife.

The oldest, Johnny, is actually grateful. He’s had his eye on Mean Ellie Harker for a long time, and Sam’s challenge is the kick in the pants he needed to ask her out. Except before he can make his move, his brothers kidnap her right out from under his nose. Now, instead of being one question away from victory, he has to compete for the woman of his dreams.

Ellie thought she’d be a dried up old spinster before Johnny finally untangled his tongue long enough to ask for a date. But instead of teaching him better uses for that tongue, his brothers have whisked her away to the ranch. At first she’s furious…then intrigued when she starts to wonder what it might be like…

Warning: Four handsome cowboys. Four choices. Would it be a single sordid night or a chance at heaven as she savors every luscious inch of the Logan brothers?

“It’s time you boys found yerselves a wife.” Sam Logan made his pronouncement then waited, watching the four younger men seated at the table from the corner of his eye. He didn’t have to wait long for his words to sink in. They exploded in the room with the force of a silent grenade.

Johnny’s jaw closed with a snap, and he laid his spoon down on the scarred oak table. His black winged brows drew together, nearly meeting over his dark eyes as he raised his head.

Sam suppressed a smile. That look could make the toughest hombre gulp, but Sam wasn’t the least bit concerned. Johnny tended to look mean when things changed. His oldest boy hated any kind of change.

If any other man had said what he had, Johnny would have cussed under his breath and aimed a piercing, silencing glare. However, he respected Sam, trusted him as much as he could anyone. That trust and respect were the only things that kept his butt on the bench beside his brother Killian.

For his part, Killian’s eyes narrowed. The corners of his lips twitched. Likely he was amused by Johnny’s reaction and didn’t want to let him off the hook too quickly, but was already lining up all the reasons why Sam’s idea was ludicrous. He was quick that way.

Sam calmly ladled the hearty stew he’d made into his mouth and let his gaze roam to the twins. Jason was coughing into his napkin while Mace gave him “helpful” taps between his shoulder blades.

Mace caught his stare and grinned. “A wife, did you say?”

Sam grunted, ignoring the one word that had caught his son’s attention. “This is the third time this week we’ve had stew,” he murmured. Not to change the subject, but to point out a glaring fact.

“I like stew just fine,” Johnny muttered.

“This house misses a woman’s touch.” There, he’d said it. Sat the big gorilla in the room right at the dinner table. Impossible to ignore.

“Gracie can’t be replaced,” Killian said softly.

The permanent ache next to his heart echoed that truth. Sam nodded. “She’s gone. Three years. I miss her every day. Know you do too. But life goes on. You’re men now. You have an obligation. Ranchin’s a family business. Y’all need families.”

Johnny cleared his throat. “No disrespect intended, Sam, but you didn’t get sons the old-fashioned way.”

“Not because Gracie and I didn’t try. And in the end, we had no regrets. We both loved you all like you was our own.”

“So, you’d rather saddle us with—”

Sam aimed a quelling stare. “Think I felt like Gracie was a noose around my neck?”

“No sir, but…” Johnny’s hands fisted on the tabletop. “Hell, how’re we to find someone like her?”

Sam understood what he meant. Gracie’s passing had left a hole in all their hearts. The boys had loved her. Took to her the very first day he’d brought each of them home. Gracie had been born to be a mother, and she’d showered them all with the things they’d needed most—acceptance and unconditional love.

“Boys, Gracie wasn’t born a rancher’s wife. Truth is, she didn’t know a bull from a cow and damn near poisoned me with the first meals she cooked. But she learned. Find a woman willin’ to learn, one you kin love and who’ll love you back.”

“You said, ‘a wife’.” Mace wasn’t gonna let that slip of the tongue go.

Sam shook his head and gave the twins a faint glimmer of a smile. Those two could always see the humor in any predicament. “Thought I’d give you two options. I know one can’t piss without the other goin’ too. And there are damn few single women to go around these parts. ’Nough said?” When all of them nodded, he cleared his throat. “I’ll be out of town for the next four days. Auction in Abilene. The house is yours.”

Be sure to check out the snippets on these other authors’ blogs:

Megan Hart:Read in bed!
Leah Braemel
Jody Wallace
Eliza Gayle
Mandy M Roth
Lissa Matthews
Mari Carr
McKenna Jeffries
Myla Jackson
Taige Crenshaw
Shiloh Walker
HelenKay Dimon
Lauren Dane
TJ Michaels

The Four Year Rule

Hello! And thanks to Delilah for hosting me today!

Excuse my excessive use of exclamation points today, my book just came out this morning and I’m pretty excited. I mean, I know as an author I’m going to be excited about every book, but this is my first book in my first series, and it’s about something I really love.

Tattoos.

I know, looking at me you’d never guess I like a little ink, would you? I knew at a young age, probably around fourteen, that I wanted tattoos. Thankfully I did not share this almost certain knowledge with my parents. They’re still reeling from a very recent revelation that I have tattoos. And by recent, I mean they found out about a month ago, and I’ve had them since I was twenty-one.

There’s something about tattoos, the expression of art and personality on one’s very skin that’s always fascinated me. I knew from an early age what I wanted my first tattoo to be, but at about sixteen, I recognized that I was young and stupid and prone to making rash decisions. Somewhere in that time period I came up with a rule.

The rule.

The four year rule.

It’s simple really. I have to want a tattoo for four years before I get it. My reasoning has always been that if I can settle on an image for four years with only minor tweaking, it must be something I really want and will be happy with in the long run. A big part of this is also getting an artist who can not only execute what I want but also bring it to live on the skin.

To date I’ve gotten five (or seven depending on who you ask) tattoos. With the exception of one, the four year rule has held steady. The one that was not planned in detail was planned in spirit. I don’t suggest people get matching tattoos or names typically, but my brother and I did get matching tattoos located on our under arm. A very sensitive place!

So what tattoos do I have? I have what’s called a backpiece, one big tattoo that stretches from my hips to my shoulders. A half-sleeve, which is a single tattoo that goes from my shoulder to just above my elbow. My sibling tattoo that’s about the size of my palm. In the picture above you can see my two pair of tattoos. I have Hebrew on each shoulder, and in the hollow on each shoulder I have half of the claddagh. Each tattoo means something. I’m a fan of doing tattoos that mean something or tell a story. It’s always fun to be approached by a complete stranger interested in the stories on my skin. I guess in a way, ink was the first medium in which I published a book.

I have quite a few in the works for the future. I want to get my left half-sleeve done, and a smattering of smaller tattoos, only two of which have met the required four year rule. So who knows, maybe next year I’ll be sporting some new ink?

So what about you? Do you have tattoos? Do you like them? Do you want them?

Tell me about your tattoo dreams! One commenter will win an ebook copy of my book, Under His Skin.

Sidney Bristol

It can never be said that Sidney Bristol has had a ‘normal’ life.  She is a recovering roller derby queen, former missionary, and tattoo addict. She grew up in a motor-home on the US highways (with an occasional jaunt into Canada and Mexico), traveling the rodeo circuit with her parents. Sidney has lived abroad in both Russia and Thailand, working with children and teenagers. She now lives in Texas where she splits her time between a job she loves, writing, reading and belly dancing.

Website *~* Twitter *~* Facebook

Under His Skin, So Inked #1, Pricked Series   Ellora’s Cave | Barnes and Noble | Amazon

A woman who doesn’t believe she deserves love…

Toe-curling kisses and enough sex to fill a weekend were all Pandora wanted from a fling with her teenage crush. She’s never forgotten how he played the knight in shining armor to her damsel in distress. She’s ready to say thank you in several naughty ways, so long as she can walk away when it’s over with her heart intact.

A man moving on from tragedy…

Brian has no intention of allowing the feisty tattoo artist to leave him after one taste. He hasn’t had enough of her inked curves. The packaging might have changed, but Pandy is the woman he hasn’t been able to excise from his memory. He’s ready to put together a new life, one that includes her. But he’s not the only one vying for her attention. Someone else wants her, dead or alive.

Pandora swirled the glass of Tuaca and downed it in three gulps. The smooth brandy slid down her throat and sent warm fuzzies coursing through her body. She couldn’t get drunk fast enough.

“Hey.”

A weight settled against her waist. She squeezed her eyes shut, chanting, No, no, no! Read the rest of this entry »

Sorry I wasn’t here yesterday. I’ve been under the weather with a mother of a headache. But I’m back now!

The winners (by random number generator) of The Pretty Pendant Contest are…Karen Roma and Mary Preston! Congratulations, ladies! Be sure to hit the link and choose a pendant. Then send me your choice and your mailing address so I can get your prizes mailed!

The Fugly Bottle Contest

What can you win?
This bottle is so hideous I almost hate giving it away! I have a thing for oddities, and all my friends know it. So when this one popped up in her consignment shop, Christi knew just who would want it!

It’s from Bolivia, is a real bottle with a cork stopper, and has real cowhide around the back. I imagine it’s the face of a Chupacabra. Don’t you just have to have it for your very own? Or doesn’t your mother-in-law need this resting on her mantle?

How can you win it?
Post a comment on any blog posting until the contest ends. Each entry counts as another chance to win!

This contest ends July 31st!

The Question

Have you ever “drunk-dialed” or “butt-dialed” someone and said
something you wished you could take back?