Hello, my name is Jean Adams and this is my first time on Delilah’s blog. I hope it won’t be the last.

Although I live in New Zealand, I originally hail from England, where I hope to revisit some time. Truth be told, if I could live where they live in The Coroner (a UK TV series) I’d upsticks and go tomorrow. ‘Nuff said about that before that pesky frog decides to revisit my throat.

My writing is pretty eclectic. By that I mean I write what takes my fancy and don’t stick to any one style. My latest what if, is a novella about an older couple who meet again after fifty years.

I’ve dabbled in contemporary, time travel (ancient Egypt), erotica, family, and currently have a TIP (trilogy in progress) set in ancient Egypt (historical, nothing to do with time travel.) Two other books are also in the works; a contemporary, and another set partly on Atlantis. I call it an archaeological paranormal.

When I say dabbled, that’s just about the right word for it. So I have been prompted to sign up for a writing course that also teaches marketing without being salesy or scammy. That’s what scares me about marketing; all the scammy messages out there screaming “read my book”. Don’t know about you but I find them a real turn-off. So I never do any. Now, hopefully, all that will change.

Having been a sub-editor for many years, apart from writing I also do some editing and proofreading. I don’t make a song and dance about it, but if friends ask me to run my eye over their manuscript for a small fee, I’ll do it.

I also teach romance writing for a New Zealand writing school from a course I wrote especially for them.

Being a great believer in love and romance, I firmly believe there’s someone out there for everyone. You just have to wait, keep your eyes open, and not settle.

Publishers:
The Wild Rose Press: Contemporary
Yesterday’s Dreams, The Fires of Passion—2 book series
A Man Like Saxon
A Place of Healing
No Other Love
Honey’s Greek Billionaire
Heart of Atlantis (TBA)
Blake (TBA)

The Wild Rose Press: Erotica
The Boss’ Temp-tation
Midnight Madness
The Good Neighbor
Good Girls Do trilogy – Lessons in Lust, A Long and Lusty Road, Tender Lusting Care

Highland Press:
Beats a Wild Heart
Eternal Hearts, time travel
Forever One, part of A Twist in Time anthology
Soul Mates, older couple novella
A Touch of Magic, part of Christmas Tidings 2018 anthology
Trilogy in progress. Daughters Of Isis (Egyptian goddess): Might have to change that name, however : Daughter of the Nile, Daughter of the Temple, Daughter of the Palace.
Futuristic sci/fi trilogy novellas seeking new home: originally with Secret Cravings (now defunct).
Love Slave, Tempting Tempest, Dariela and the Virgin Soldier.

Does anything out there think a writer’s life is glamorous? Or easy?

Well, let me tell you about my day…

It started at 7 AM. I slept in. Usually, I’m up at around 5:30. Today, however, is Sunday, and I gave myself a little extra rest, because I knew today would be a bitch. I woke up my computer and quickly scanned my emails. Ah. The editing job I’d expected finally arrived. Yay. I scanned the rest of the subject lines and decided nothing else couldn’t wait, so I opened my manuscript.

I wrote, and wrote, and wrote—stopping for a quick breakfast then lunch, stopping to pee, stopping to get up and walk around to regain feeling in my toes. I didn’t stop writing until I’d written 4,210 words. After shipping off pages to lovely beta readers, I closed out my manuscript then darted across the road to have coffee with my dd.

Back at my desk again, I opened the rush editing job I have to finish by Tuesday. I edited 32 pages, closed the document, then picked up the stack of short stories I have to have read this week. I read five while sitting in front of the television, not really watching, but sitting there rather than at my desk was a welcome change. At 10:30 PM, I finished reading five stories and decided I’d done enough for the day.

I have to repeat this cycle tomorrow and the next day to keep on schedule. Now, who thinks a writer’s life is glamorous? As soon as I put my computer to sleep, I’m heading to bed to play a couple rounds of Charm King before I set my alarm…

I’m writing my stubby fingers to the bone, so no time to write you a love note! Enjoy!

Power. Prowess. Virility. Women want a powerful man. This is basic biology. It’s psychology. It’s human mating nature.

That is the shapeshifter hero, or my shifter heroes, anyway.

Yes, confession, I love writing shapeshifter heroes and heroines.

I’ve always been fond of animals, felt a closeness, a connection with them. And, I adore alpha heroes who cherish their heroine—a hero who can be the perfect gentleman and the savage beast. So, it’s a natural for me to write shapeshifter erotic romance.

And after all, who is more protective, more devoted than the shapeshifter hero once he’s discovered his forever mate?

The alpha man who claims a woman as his, who is steadfast no matter what, that is my type of shifter hero. Yes, even when my heroines are alpha-tough, they desires their love match. They want a hero or heroes who match their fiery untapped passions—the man or men who arouse their sensually uninhibited natures.

Because, whether my heroine knows it or not, whether or not she has to be lustily convinced, she wants the raw, tough, primal hero who is, or becomes madly in love with her.

And, at heart, she’s attracted to the man who possesses an alpha predator side. Or, the wolf, the big cat shapeshifter—yes, I love them both.

Often, it becomes a battle for who gets the starring role, the canine or feline shapeshifter. Given there are endless shifter-breed possibilities—half-breeds, hybrids, and much more—I like exploring those flights of fantasy in my flash scenes. Over the last several years I’ve created my own shapeshifter, supernatural, paranormal world, and timeline, known as Wolf Peak Territory, Montana.

Nowadays, the variety of shapeshifters in romance novels, is highly imaginative and beautifully wondrous. Dragons seem especially popular with many readers. I have several flash scene starring dragon shifters, but haven’t written that erotic romance for publication. Not yet.

I also enjoy writing stallion shifter heroes. ‘Cause I love horses. Yeah, who can resist the wild stud who chases after the woman he desires until he wins her? Not me.

The appeal of creating a shapeshifter hero…well, he’s stronger and faster, more committed, bravely powerful. He’s deadly with claw and fang. He will morph to his animal side, his beast side, ferociously defending his woman from all of their enemies.

Of course, I don’t leave out shapeshifter heroines. I do love writing the warrioress heroine. In fact, my first erotic shapeshifter romance was a sci-fi starring Sun Rocket, a kick-ass red lioness shifter.

As human beings we have animal instincts, our primitive side. Genetically, we are very close to the animal kingdom/queendom. Few degrees of separation, as they say.

Writing a shapeshifter romance allows for that primal animal side, inside us all, to be fully expressed by the hero, by the heroine. The rigid norms of society can be cast aside. We are empowered to act boldly as real heroines and heroes—to save our mate, to save the day for our families—and if need be, to save the world for ALL.

On a final note, as I assess it, there are current and unfortunate societal trends that encourage men and women to be pussified-wussified. To become the domesticated sheeple.

Romance novels, as a creative expression, will naturally counteract these trends with alpha-powerful men and alpha women. Thus, another reason for the “The Lure of ShapeShifter Erotic Romance.”

~~~~~~

HER MIDNIGHT STARDUST COWBOYS

An Erotic Romance Ménage

A woman desperate to save herself and her prize horses.
Two shapeshifter cowboys who want her as their woman.

When Zance, a timber wolf shifter,
and Dontoya, a black cougar shifter,
find Sherilyn dying due to a reckless driver,
there is only one way to bring her back to life.
But, that’s only the beginning…

Sherilyn hides out on her small ranch near the odd town of Talbot’s Peak, Montana, determined to save her prize horses from being stolen. She has no time for men. Besides she’s been down that heartbreak road one too many times. The hitch: she didn’t bargain on two shapeshifter cowboys who decide she belongs to them.

Zance, a timber wolf shifter, and Dontoya, a rare black cougar shifter, are longtime pardners. Having built up their immense ranch in the supernaturals community, they’ve settled into a cattleman’s lifestyle. Now they’ve finally found the one woman they both want as their mate.

EXCERPT/BUY LINK https://savannakougar.blogspot.com/p/blog-page.html

Talbot’s Peak, Montana
December 2011, After Christmas

Enchanted, in a semi-trance, Sherilyn stared…

Enchanted, in a semi-trance, Sherilyn stared at the graphically gorgeous poster advertising a New Year’s Eve celebration at the Pleasure Club. The large poster looked out of place hanging next to the community board, just inside the small-town, somewhat odd grocery store in Talbot’s Peak, Montana.

“It’s the grand opening of the Midnight Stardust, Dante’s new supperclub. Are you thinking of going?” Brenda chattily asked, as she rang up Sherilyn’s purchases.

“Ladies are free like it says. Dante himself hung the poster. He’s such a gentleman,” Brenda trilled like a teenager with a crush.

“He made a point of telling me there will be plenty of dance partners,” she added.

“Is that right?” Sherilyn murmured, unable to force her gaze away from the oh-so elegant couple dancing beneath a galaxy of sparkling stars.

The forties era, swanky scene struck her as magical, and was everything she’d been craving of late. But that was not to be. Not for her.

Sadness welled up inside Sherilyn. She mercilessly tamped it down. That time in her life was gone, and all that mattered now was the harsh reality of her circumstances.

With the snow piling up, she needed to get on the road, get home. Mentally sighing, Sherilyn fished her credit card out her bag. “I thought Dante ran the biker bar outside of town. That’s what I heard, anyway.”

About the Author

Savanna Kougar lives on the tame prairie in the Midwest, and enjoys a quiet lifestye. She pens love stories because that’s her deepest heart. She writes in the futuristic/fantasy/paranormal *and shapeshifter* subgenres because that’s her fiercest passion. And, she writes erotic romance because she ferociously enjoys ripping the damn doors off.

You can find my books at:
Savanna Kougar ~savannakougar.com~
ShapeShifter Seduction ~shapeshifterseduction.blogspot.com~
Title Magic ~titlemagic.blogspot.com~

Did you ever see a dream walking? Well, I did…and I’m not just quoting that old 1933 song of the same name. In her poem, “Still I Rise”, Maya Angelou penned these words:

Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave

Every time I look in a mirror, I realize I may be some slave’s dream walking.

Somewhere in North Carolina, my great-grandmother Julie Pitt Hagan’s people were owned by a man named Pitt. On January 1, 1863 when Abraham Lincoln issued the final Emancipation Proclamation, which declared “that all persons held as slaves” within the rebel states “are, and henceforward shall be free,” the slaves on the Pitt plantation could consider themselves freed.

I wonder did Julie’s people gather and listen to a reading of the proclamation as depicted in this 1864 engraving printed by James Watts? If they did, did they dream and hope of a descendant like me, owned by no one but herself? If they did, have I — their descendent — lived a life that realized their dreams and hopes?

The Brooklyn church I served once held a Watchnight service to ring in the new year. When the clock struck twelve, we ended the service with the reading of the Emancipation Proclamation. As the words were read, I experienced the anticipation – and trepidation — my ancestors might have felt as January 1 1863 brought with it the possibility of freedom. I felt inspired to live a life worthy of my ancestors’ dreams and hopes. As I worshipped that night I recalled Martin Luther King Jr.’s 1963 dream that called for economic and social justice for all. I resolved to make that dream my dream, too.

This month as we honor Dr. King’s life and work, I encourage you to think about the dreams and hopes of your ancestors, reflect on the dreams and hopes of all people everywhere continuing to rise above circumstances and conditions that conspire to keep them down. You, like me, are somebody’s dream, somebody’s hope. Be a dream walking, see dreams walking all around you and do all you can to bring them pass.

Better to Mary Than to Burn

 
Wife Wanted: Marital relations as necessary. Love not required nor sought…

A bridal lottery seems the height of foolishness to ex-slave Caesar King, but his refusal to participate in the town council’s scheme places him in a bind. He has to get married to avoid paying a high residence fine or leave the Texas territory. After losing his wife in childbirth, Caesar isn’t ready for romance. A woman looking for a fresh start without any emotional strings is what he needs.

Queen Esther Payne, a freeborn black from Philadelphia, has been threatened by her family for her forward-thinking, independent ways. Her family insists she marry. Her escape comes in the form of an ad. If she must marry, it will be on her terms. But her first meeting with the sinfully hot farmer proves an exciting tussle of wills that stirs her physically, intellectually, and emotionally.

In the battle of sexual one-upmanship that ensues, both Caesar and Queen discover surrender can be as fulfilling as triumph.

Book links:
Wild Rose Press – https://bit.ly/2DHdb0x
Amazon: https://amzn.to/2JyLKu1

Excerpt:

Caesar looked at Queen. His eyes glistened with unshed tears. She gasped then swallowed hard, unnerved by the sight. Her lips trembled.

Reverend Warren smiled at Queen then addressed Caesar. “You may kiss the bride.”

Kiss? Queen flinched. There’d be no kissing in this marriage. She’d promised to be his wife for two years with sex provided at agreed upon intervals. At the end of two years that requirement would end and she’d be free to live as she chose. She could go anywhere she pleased, especially with the respectability of missus before her name and Caesar’s promised severance. No. This coupling made them business partners. Business partners did not kiss.

She extended her hand to seal their arrangement. He returned the handshake but instead of releasing her, his too rough fingers imprisoned hers and pulled her to him. With his other hand he captured the back of her head and secured her mouth to his.

A squeal of surprise parted her lips. His thick tongue swept into the shelter of her mouth. The assault ambushed her with pleasure and vanquished her resistance.

Her hands rose, as if of their own volition, and pressed against his chest. The firm muscle beneath his shirt coaxed her hands to linger, to explore—however discretely—the muscle beneath her palms and fingertips.

Caesar broke off the kiss.

The embrace didn’t last more than a few seconds, but Queen swayed, robbed of reason and resentment.

Reverend Warren handed Caesar the marriage certificate and shook his hand. Queen stood, mouth gaping, startled by the confusion roiling through her mind, amazed by the moisture roiling in her sex.

With a simple kiss, this bull of a man had exhumed the sexual hunger she’d thought buried.

“Thanks for being available, Pastor.” Caesar shook the minister’s hand. “Mother Maybelle.” He hugged and kissed the older woman. Again, their affection stirred an unexpected sympathy in Queen’s chest. She sucked in a breath to dispel it.

He gripped Queen by the upper arm and hauled her back to the wagon.

“What’s the rush?” she asked.

He hoisted her up to the seat by her waist before she could object. She swallowed the gasp elicited by the press of possession in his grasp.

“Daylight’s burning,” he stated. “Don’t want to be caught out after dark.”

Queen eyed his lips, their fullness still remembered against her mouth. She shifted several times but found no relief from the pressure pulsing along her labia. Good Lord, how was she to make sense of so strong a physical reaction to this stranger? Had celibacy left her defenseless against physical contact from anyone?

Or was this physical attraction genuine?

I’ve written romance for the last five years. In that time, I’ve read even more. From contemporary to paranormal I love multiple sub-genres. In that same amount of time, I’ve always loved action adventure movies, including sci-fi movies and shows. Imagine my surprise when my muse sent me an idea that would combine them both.

Queue the futuristic world, where humans have colonized the galaxy and the richest have migrated to planets like Jupiter, Neptune, and Saturn, leaving Earth to become a haven for the production of drugs and booze. Out of these ashes emerge drug runners and bootleggers to carry the fruits of Earth’s labor to the upper planets, outsmarting the government and making as much money as they can.

It’s a bit lawless, and crafting this story and world was filled with fun and a bit of frustration. I did plenty of research in the form of watching episodes of some awesome movies and television shows. Today, I want to talk about some of my favorites.

First up, Farscape. We humans think we’re the smartest beings in the known universe. When NASA Scientist and Astro-genius, John Crichton is slingshot to the far side of the universe, he finds out otherwise. Add in the super soldier, Aeryn Sun, female bad ass, and I was smitten from episode one. Fun fact is how the Muppet Studios were involved in this series and the unique, fresh take on possible alien species. Four seasons was never enough.

Second, Dark Matter. This series is another that was cut too short. There was so much to explore, from character dynamics to other dimensional threats. Beyond that, this is another series where there are a ton of strong females to feed off of as inspiration—Number Two and her fabulous run as captain of a ship, add in a younger female techie, Number Five, and the ever hilarious Android. It’s a female fab cast, rounded out with male characters who respect and support them even amid heists and running from the law.

Finally, Firefly. This 13-episode series holds a special place in my heart, as it does for many. The dialogue is priceless, the character building sublime. Nobody holds a candle to Captain Malcolm Reynolds, the guy who wants to be an anti-hero, but ultimately isn’t. Kaylee, River, and Zoe. Yes, I like Inara too, but she’s not my favorite. The strong females are fabulous and not in the least intimidated by their Captain. If anything his strengths encourage the ladies to run with their own.

I’ve waxed poetic enough about my favorite sci-fi shows. What are yours? There are many I haven’t mentioned. Some more spec fiction than sci-fi per se. Like Fringe, Warehouse 13, Sliders, Star Trek (all the iterations). Tell me your favorite sci-fi show, movie, character – even if it’s from a video game. Be sure to comment to get in on my sweet giveaway in honor of my new release, A Talent For Trouble.

A Talent For Trouble

Drug runner Emilio Morales is one deal away from being the sole runner from Earth to the upper planets—until his partner attempts a double-cross. Now, Emilio’s stuck in a disabled spaceship with an unpredictable, attractive female who’s willing to help him out if he’ll assist her in retrieving her ship from an impound facility.

Antonia ‘Toni’ Smith is sick and tired of being beholden to men. The only way to guarantee freedom is to get back her bootlegging ship to run her own business again. When Emilio kills her ticket out, she’s forced to rely on him for assistance. Emilio, the most wanted and annoying man in the solar system, is a sexy-as-hell means to an end.

But every plan the duo makes falls apart and every day they spend in each other’s company increases the tension between them.

With the death toll rising and their defenses low, can Emilio and Toni get the happy ending they want, without falling for each other in the process?

Buy Links:
Amazon | Barnes and Noble | Kobo | Totally Bound | Goodreads

Excerpt

He poured himself a glass. Turning it slowly, spreading the liquid up the sides and back down, he noticed he wasn’t alone. “Can I offer you a drink?”

“No,” a sultry feminine voice responded. “There’s nothing over there isn’t made in the still or fermented in a barrel.”

“Suit yourself.” Emilio turned and took in the view. Mother Mary.

The woman, a vision of sin, stood angled toward the fancy window display where three floor-to-ceiling panels showcased the twinkling view. She wore a glimmering red dress, which sparkled even more as she turned toward him. Her hair was a pale-white blonde, short and framing her face, giving it a distinct diamond shape. She’d be labeled gorgeous, more than the word could construe, with her eyes the color of whiskey—and not the cheap stuff in his glass. No, the full-bodied swirling amber and caramel colors.

“What brings you to Casa Manolo?” He swallowed a little more whiskey than he intended and did his best to sound suave, but the words came out more like a croak.

“Nothing that concerns you.” The dismissal paired with a smile, a little thing revealing flawless teeth. He glanced down at her one note of defiance—boots. Grav boots to be exact, black and fierce. A deep, soul-encapsulating need clamped onto his brain, a need he’d waited years to experience. This was the woman he’d been waiting for. The type he’d always wanted. The one he’d call his.

He walked closer, eager to see if she took a similar interest in him. “Oh? Well, I’m happy to make this visit less business and more pleasure. Your name is?”

The words escaped his mouth as he glanced at her lips—expressive, full and waiting for his kiss, even when those same lips uttered, “Too expensive for you.”

About the Author

Landra Graf consumes at least one book a day, and has always been a sucker for stories where true love conquers all. She believes in the power of the written word, and the joy such words can bring. In between spending time with her family and having book adventures, she writes romance with the goal of giving everyone, fictional or not, their own happily ever after.

Author Links:
Website: https://landragraf.com/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/LandraGraf
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/landra.graf
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Landra-Graf/e/B00IESJED4/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1?qid=1440641120&sr=8-1

I have very vivid, colorful dreams, peopled with folks I know and tons of celebrities. I really, really ought to start capturing some of them (the dreams, not the celebrities), because I’m sure there’s a story somewhere in there.

Take for instance the one I had the night before last that I mentioned on Facebook. I was editing some dude’s story, working feverishly to finish while my dd was ransacking his files looking for something that proved he’d committed a crime. I kept worrying about him returning too quickly and catching her, and I worried about a sentence I kept having to re-read because I knew something was wrong with it, but I couldn’t figure out what. What did that dream mean? I consulted my copy of the Dream Dictionary, but found nothing under “editing”. Go figure.

I’ve dreamed of buying a mansion with an underground pool, where you enter it from the basement steps. The water is a bit murky and lit from beneath. It’s a gorgeous grotto the Beverly Hillbillies would have loved. The dictionary tells me the basement is where we “bury” trauma. As in bodies of those we’ve wronged. Hmmm. Not quite. My basement wasn’t sinister. So, I looked up “pool”—it’s the “inner world of our thoughts and fantasies”. Put together? I have no clue what it means! I just remember the water feeling slippery and warm and wishing I could swim there forever.

Then there’s the weird shark dream I had…

My dd entered me in a reality show competition. I was game but didn’t know what the competition involved. Until I arrived at a big underground pool…

Wait a second. Pool, again?

The atmosphere was like that of a fight club, people ringing the pool. I felt the tension in the room as I descended the steps. Then I came around a column and saw what the competition involved. Sharks were tethered to a pole. All species—great whites, tiger sharks, huge basking sharks. The sharks had saddles on their backs.

I pulled up short, swung toward my dd, and shook my head.

She gave me a pat and said, “Piece of cake, mom. You swim like a fish.”

“Sharks eat fish!” I hissed back.

Then I saw one of my competing “riders” approach. It was Michelle Rodriguez from the Fast and Furious movies. Her hands were wrapped in fighter’s tape, and she was snarling as she looked me up and down. Which got me mad.

She chose the great white. I chose a tiger shark. When we began, the sharks moved around the pole like a carousel, bumping against each other, taking bites out of other sharks and riders, until only Michelle and I remained in the competition. I was bleeding from being bumped by sandpaper hides, but luckily no bites so far. I rode behind Michelle, she glanced over her shoulder, and guided her shark with her knees to ram into my side. I woke up before I found out who won, but I think she probably did. She was meaner. I was just trying to stay seated on my fish.

So, what’s that dream mean? Well, sharks represent your fear of death. Put that together with pool…? My inner world of fantasies is worrying about death? Hmm. And why is my dd in all my dreams?

Any strange dreams you want to share? Anything you think I can do with my underground fight club-shark rider fantasy—outside of Aquaman fanfic? 🙂