What is love supposed to look like? I asked my seven-year-old niece, who is obsessed with Disney Princesses, what she thought love was. Her answer? You’re supposed to like each other. Simple enough, and in all honesty not a bad answer. Growing up we all had that fairy tale that we would meet that special someone, fall in love, and live happily ever after. Love is much more complicated than that. Anyone who’s ever been in a relationship can attest to how much work they are. Compromise, fights, financial troubles, children… And just when you think everything has been worked out, something goes wrong. I know my marriage has been tested.
In paranormal romances things look a bit different, especially if one of the people is a creature. Can you imagine finding out the person you’re falling in love with is a shifter or a demon? When I was growing up, I wanted to be a mermaid, like Ariel. Or marry the Beast. Neither happened (Yay!).
In my newest release, Lyric never thought she’d find a man. Zombies have taken over. She has to do some less than desirable things just to eat. It definitely isn’t the life she’d pictured when she was young. When it comes to boyfriends, the last one she’d ever imagined herself with was a zombie. She’s more used to putting a knife between their eyes than staring into them for hours. Anson is different, and even though he isn’t what she would have chosen, he’s what she loves. For both love was never supposed to be a human and a zombie, but it’s what happened.
So my seven-year-old niece’s answer didn’t apply to Anson and Lyric in the beginning, but in the end they’d give their lives for one another.
Okay, I’m up way too early. Must have been the dream I had about having to go back into the Army but none of my uniforms fit, and I didn’t have time to even TRY to get into shape… Nightmare!
So, I’ve been up since 4 AM, mostly reading all the trash talk on Twitter about Fear The Walking Dead. Did you see the first episode? Of course, some folks are saying it was way too slow, but I had another experience. I had this slow-building sense of dread and true fear as I watched. I think they nailed it. AND we get to see what happened while Rick Grimes slept!
My sis has been working on new covers for the Uncharted SEALs. I loved the Through Her Eyes cover so much, I asked her to redo the first two. They aren’t set in stone just yet. What do you think? I really wasn’t that fond of the sweet covers before. And now I’m hearing the theme song to Two and a Half Men: “Men, men, men, men…”
Folks are signing up for the month-long plotting workshop that starts September 7th. If you’d like more information, head here: Rose’s Plotting Bootcamp
Sis and I are working on another project, too. We co-wrote a time travel novel that Ellora’s Cave released as Jacq’s Warlord. We’re refurbing it and thinking about adding some sequels. What do you think? Are you ready for some time-traveling fun? If so, what time frames would you like to see? We started with a modern-day girl heading back to 1100’s Britain. But the way we worked the actual traveling, we could go forward or back…
Answer the three highlighted questions, and you’ll be entered to win your choice of any of the Uncharted stories—with the new covers! Which means, this contest will continue until I get the reformatted books back!
Have I rambled enough? Jumped around enough? That’s me without enough sleep. 🙂
Wolves of Willow Bend River Wolf Releasing August 25, 2015
Brett Dalton, Alpha of Hudson River, isolated himself from his pack mates after one betrayed him. The once, easygoing Alpha has become taciturn, remote and unforgiving. His pack worries for him, but they too have suffered a devastating blow. When several members leave to join Three Rivers, the pack faces the threat of dissolution until Brett’s best friend and Lone Wolf, Luc Danes returns to Hudson River accompanied by a beautiful young human—or is she? Something about the woman consumes Brett. Has Luc come home to help or to take the pack from Brett?
Colby Jensen wrapped up thousands of hours of community service working at the hospital in Maine when an injured Luc Danes rolled through the door. The impossible patient drove the nurses crazy, but when Danes offered her money no strings attached to drive him to New York, she agreed. The last thing she expected was to arrive in the small Westchester County town and to meet the craziest collection of residents—especially the devastatingly sexy Brett Dalton. Part of her wants to hit the road, the rest wants to make him smile and he keeps making excuses for her to stay.
Then she sees the wolves…and is exposed to a world she can barely imagine. When Brett discovers a secret about her, nothing will be the same again. Now she will find herself torn between a world she isn’t sure she can understand and the man who has taken her heart hostage…
Find excerpt for Heather Long’s River Wolf below
River Wolf Release Date: August 25, 2015 Amazon: https://amzn.to/1KC6H4P All Romance: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-riverwolf-1859734-168.html Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/river-wolf-heather-long/1122426868?ean=2940151088350 iTunes: https://geo.itunes.apple.com/us/book/river-wolf/id1024860627?mt=11 Kobo: https://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/river-wolf
Focus on Willow Bend
Series Reading Order:
Wolf at Law (Prequel) Book 1: Wolf Bite Book 2: Caged Wolf Book 3: Wolf Claim Book 3.5: Wolf Next Door Book 4: Rogue Wolf Book 5: Bayou Wolf Book 6: Untamed Wolf Book 6.5: Wolf with Benefits Book 7: River Wolf Book 7.5: Single, Wicked Wolf (releasing in October) Book 8: Desert Wolf (releasing later in 2015)
About the Author:
National bestselling author, Heather Long, likes long walks in the park, science fiction, superheroes, Marines, and men who aren’t douche bags. Her books are filled with heroes and heroines tangled in romance as hot as Texas summertime. From paranormal historical westerns to contemporary military romance, Heather might switch genres, but one thing is true in all of her stories—her characters drive the books. When she’s not wrangling her menagerie of animals, she devotes her time to family and friends she considers family. She believes if you like your heroes so real you could lick the grit off their chest, and your heroines so likable, you’re sure you’ve been friends with women just like them, you’ll enjoy her worlds as much as she does.
Brett had been on a call when the car pulled into his drive. His pack knew to let themselves in, and he didn’t have time for strangers so he’d ignored the knock and the doorbell ring. The unfamiliar feminine call of ‘hello’ alerted him to the stranger entering his house. Surprise followed by fury rushed through him. Then she called again, but he missed the rest of her sentence thanks to three people talking at once on the conference call. Ending it, he informed his executives he’d call them back.
Her “Hallelujah!” beckoned him. Silent, he stalked through the house to the kitchen and discovered the young woman dripping water on the tile floor as she lifted the handset from the cradle. Instead of dialing, however, she stared at the phone with a troubled expression.
Everything about her assaulted him—her fresh raindrops on blades of green grass aroma occluded by the scent of gasoline, male wolf, and injury. The male he identified almost immediately, despite the troubling mixture. Luc.
“What the hell am I doing here?” she asked aloud. The last word came out more heyah than here, but he understood.
“That’s a very good question.” No artifice disguised her shock. She flung the phone at him and he caught it. The force of the throw impressed him, as the phone slapped against the palm of his hand. Her pulse beat a frenetic pace and her eyes widened as she locked gazes with him.
Close enough to touch her, he stilled. If she were Luc’s ride, she might have a reason for being present—then again where the hell was Luc? Zeroing in on the flare of her dilating pupils, his wolf surged beneath his skin. The rush of his animal powered through him. Inhaling a lungful of her scent, he tested what he’d already learned about her and couldn’t identify what agitated the fuck out of his wolf. Read the rest of this entry »
While spending the week in Florida with my family, I attended a few spin classes with my husband.
Yes, we are the weird-os that work out on vacation.
And while I was spinning away, I learned something about the spin instructor. For the sake of the blog post we will call her Instructor 2. Instructor 2 was the queen of quarter turns. A quarter turn, for those of you who aren’t spin class savvy, is literally a quarter turn on the resistance nob. A quarter turn to the right (harder) or to the left (easier). Most of our turns, of course, were to the right!
Instructor 2 was good, and even though the classes were only thirty minutes, my husband and I worked up a great sweat. But, Instructor 2 was much different from my normal instructor in Houston, who we will call Instructor 1. I’m working a little backwards on my numbers, I know.
If we were comparing 1 and 2 to swimming, Instructor 1 is like the cannonball kid. You know the child that runs as fast as her legs will take her, tucks her knees to her chest, and plows right into the water, no matter the temperature, sending a huge splash covering everyone in her wake? You’ve all seen that kid. That would be my Instructor 1. Her ways are slightly unconventional, but once you leave her spin class, you know you’ve left every ounce of energy behind on your sweaty bike seat.
While, Instructor 2 has a more slow approach with the quarter turns. I would compare her to the adult who sticks their toes in the water a little at a time, allowing their body to adjust to the temperature versus the total body shock of submerging yourself completely. Her ways are a bit slower, but when it’s all said and done, you’re pretty dang sweaty at the end of your thirty minutes.
No matter which teacher you choose, the jump in head first kind of gal, or the inch by inch, turn by turn instructor, you’re end product is the same. A great workout.
Same with authors. Some authors you purchase because you know you will get something steamy. Delilah Devlin would be a great example of steamy. Others you know you will get something sweet. If I pick up Nicholas Sparks, I know I’m in for a tearjerker. If I pick up a Mary Kay Andrews book, I know I’m in for Southern charm. Tracy Brogan, I’m in for a good romance with a few laughs, and Janet Evanovich, well I just need to grab a Depends because I laugh so hard sometimes my bladder threatens to lose control. And while each author goes about their stories in different ways, at the end of the day, the result, every author hopes is the same. You, the reader, are left with a great story.
So, what’s the point? Pick up a book from some author you’ve never read, try a new spin instructor, or a new cuisine. You never know what might be your next favorite, or who might pleasantly surprise you.
Ellie Childs isn’t looking for love. She’s looking for an AC repairman for the Forest Wood Senior Center. But when the repairman happens to be tall, dark and handsome, David White, he has the goods to make her change her mind. Unfortunately, he’s taken by a blonde Barbie.
David moved to the small town of Cupid, Arkansas to be closer to the woman he loves, his grandma, and as far away as possible from his ex-fiancée. Not thinking his broken heart would ever work again, he’s proved wrong by falling for Ellie, a good-looking redhead. She’s the farthest thing from his ex as he can get, but as luck would have it, she’s taken, and the guy she’s seeing’s a real jerk.
When David’s grandmother, Mary Costanza, see’s the instant attraction festering between David and Ellie, she calls on the help of her three friends. Together they form Cupid’s Angels. Their mission, to bring David and Ellie together. Despite their best efforts, the Angels’ plans backfire and push David and Ellie farther apart and into the arms of others. Or so they think.
Will the Angels’ good intentions win out, or will their plots and schemes be the end of David and Ellie before the could even begin?
UPDATE: The winner of the free download is…Judith!
* * * * *
Readers, skip to the question below for a chance to win a copy of any of my self-published titles.
Rose’s Plotting Bootcamp — Sep. 7 thru Oct. 2
For you authors and aspiring authors, it’s that time again! The ROSE’S PLOTTING BOOTCAMP will kick off September 7th! Yes, I’ve posted the notice everywhere I could think, so sorry if this is the hundredth time you’ve seen this. We usually start advertising a month in advance, but sis had some server issues… Anyways, what is the plotting bootcamp?
It’s a class my sister and I have taught, in person and online, since 2004, I think. Forever, anyway. And we’ve had tons of authors, newbies and multi-pubs, who’ve been through it, many returning again and again, simply because it’s a very methodical process for pulling together a richly detailed plot. There are lessons and exercises, and the bootcampers get feedback and brainstorming support every step of the way. Oh! And it’s self-paced, so don’t worry if you have something in September that you think will interfere.
It’s a month of support, covering topics like theme and premise, characterization and character roles, CONFLICT, setting, story arc, and plotting. I won’t tell you it’s not hard work, but you can do it bits at a time over the month. And besides feedback you’ll get directly from me via email, I’ll set up chats for anyone with issues to join me and talk through it—live brainstorming.
Are you a pantser and think you don’t need a plotting bootcamp? I’m a pantster. My sister’s the plotter, but when I get stuck (usually at chapter three when I’m heading into the saggy middle), I pull out tools and go to work. I guarantee, that if you do the work, you will take away something from this workshop. Probably a lot of somethings.
That’s my pitch. I hope you’ll join me. I’ll be doing this one solo in September. Sis is buried in deadlines, so won’t be able to pop in, but hey, we’ll have fun anyway!
My daughter, son-in-law and I have these late evening conversations where we talk trash. The other night we got into a debate about who we thought was our greatest living male actor. My answer was Russell Crow. My dd’s was Geoffrey Rush, Matthew McC (I’m not even trying to spell it!), and several others, because she couldn’t make up her mind. And my SIL’s was so silly I can’t even remember what he said.
So for a chance to win one of my self-published titles, my question to you is…
Who do you think our greatest living male actor is?
It’s true. NY is my favorite place. I’ve visited LOTS of times and it’s one of those places that is endless to me. And timeless.
Endless because in NYC there are so many places to see and visit. Touristy places – yes. Here’s a few pics from my first time there several years ago and all the locations we got to see!
Statue of Liberty
Macy’s with Santa
The Rockettes
The Today Show
Empire State Building
These are my parents on their 40th anniversary. Aren’t they adorable?!?
But also Niagara Falls in Buffalo. Love Buffalo even more than NYC!!
And timeless because I look at these pictures years later and I am positively giddy seeing them. I’m telling you all this because as you read this today I’m currently in NYC attending the BDSM Writers Con. Did I tell you how much I love NYC!!?!?! So awesome!!!
In honor of traveling and all things fantastic, let me give some stuff away!!
CONTEST – Tell me your favorite place you’ve ever visited / lived!! I have a big bag of swag for one lucky poster in the US ONLY!!! See how much awesome stuff you could win by sharing your awesomeness???
Need something to wet your whistle while you wait to see if you won goodies??
May I suggest a delicious bite out of the Members Only series…….. 😛
The books in the Members Only Series can be found here…
Jennifer Kacey is a writer, mother, and business owner living with her family in Texas. She sings in the shower, plays piano in her dreams, and has to have a different color of nail polish every week. The best advice she’s ever been given? Find the real you and never settle for anything less.
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A reader posted a review on Amazon the other day, and I really liked what she had to say…
“It’s not every author who can bring forth a short story and leave a lasting impression on me. With Hotter With a Pole, not only was I left satisfied with the content, but I was also impressed by the range of emotions and the overall story.”
Hotter With a Pole is over 20,000 words, so I’m assuming she mostly reads full-length stories or at the very least category-length (think of some of Harlequin’s shorter series). 20,000 words is as long as I like to write, although I know most readers thirst for longer. Some writers can write long with ease, and maybe a lot of deep angsting, but I write romances the way I’ve experienced them—hot and fast. After all, the old advice to a writer is “Write what you know”. And it does take skill to cram a full story into fewer words.
So today, I just wanted to remind you of all the truly short stories I have published. If ever you’re in need of something lightning fast while you’re waiting at the doctor’s office or as little something right before you go to bed, you might check these out. Many are in the Kindle Unlimited store for free for you KU subscribers. All are only $0.99 for everyone else.
Enjoy the short-short shorty I have posted below. Sometimes a tease is all you need. 🙂
All About Me
I awoke slowly, enjoying the pleasant tingling that calluses left on my belly. A man’s rough hands smoothed over me.
It wasn’t every day that I woke with someone else sharing my bed. My heart skipped a beat. And then I remembered. Craig. That was his name. I was in bed with a stranger named Craig.
Daylight teased the edges of my eyelids, but I squeezed them shut again, not ready yet to end the bliss. I could pretend for at least a couple of moments longer that we meant more to each other than just a heat of the moment fling.
Still, he’d stayed the night, and the heaviness of the cock poking at my backside telegraphed the fact he wasn’t in any hurry to leave.
A kiss touched the corner of my neck.
“You awake?” he growled then licked the bottom edge of my ear lobe.
“Not yet. Do that some more,” I mumbled.
His chuckle was warm, wicked.
I stretched my legs then snuggled my butt closer to his erection. “I’m awake enough,” I whispered.
“And I’m interested, as you can tell,” he murmured. “But you owe me something first.”
I groaned and pushed my face into the pillow, wanting to hide because he’d risen on an elbow and was pushing my hair behind my ear to peer at me.
He cupped a breast, thumbing the nipple. “You promised.”
“I wasn’t in my right mind.”
“Coward.”
I whimpered, and then turned onto my back to meet his gaze. “Why don’t you go first?”
He shook his head, a smile twitching at the corners of his lips. “Now, see? That’s not what I want. And you said I could have anything I wanted if I made you come.”
I snorted. “How do know you I didn’t fake it?”
A sexy grin stretched across his face. “Baby, you came so hard you peed on me.”
His soft laughter made my cheeks burn. I narrowed my eyes. “And to think Bev said you were a nice guy.”
His eyebrows gave a waggle. “Not too nice. And aren’t you glad? Besides, you’re cute when you get embarrassed.”
I wrinkled my nose. “Didn’t seem to bother you a bit.”
“Why should it? I like you wet.” He came over me, sighing as he settled between my legs.
“What else do you like?” I asked, running my fingertips lightly up his back.
He dipped his head and bit my ear. “You’re stalling.”
His breath tickled my neck and I raised my shoulder. “Why not just fuck me?”
“Because this’ll be more intimate.”
“More so than fucking?”
His cheek glided up and down against my neck as he nodded.
I rolled my eyes, thinking hard, or at least as hard as I could with his cock sliding up and down between my folds. “Can I do it faced away?” I gasped.
“What do you think?” Abruptly, he pushed up then knelt between my thighs. “Need pillows?”
“Don’t be helpful,” I groused.
“You really don’t like this.”
I felt like screaming my frustration. He was right there. I was open. Eager. And yet, he sat watching, his expression firming into that hard mask that had made me tear at my clothes the moment he’d closed the bedroom door. “I might like this better if we were in the middle of something, but like this it feels—”
“Dirty?”
I nodded. At last, he understood. Now maybe he’d move closer.
“Do you know what attracted me to you first?”
I blinked at his segue.
“How bold you are.”
Liar. However, I didn’t mind that he goaded me. His needling challenges had led us to this bed. Something I couldn’t regret.
His hands soothed up and down my inner thighs and his gaze dropped to my sex. But the exposure—my pussy to daylight—wasn’t quite so embarrassing because he was arranging me again, lifting my knees, placing my heels just so. Like he was creating a picture for his pleasure. Then he laid his palms against my inner thighs and opened me further.
He could see right inside me. A blush swept my skin, cheeks to breasts.
His nostrils flared as he gazed down. I was happier than I ever would have admitted when he’d allowed me to bathe after my “accident”—then relieved that he’d changed the sheets while I’d cowered in the shower. He hadn’t let me hide there for long, jerking back the curtain and joining me there to “wash” his dick inside me.
My modesty lay in shreds. Oddly, this engendered a feeling of deep, fierce elation. I’d never been with anyone like him. Someone who could make me laugh one moment, then shiver with anticipation with just a single, commanding glare.
I didn’t know him well enough to trust him. And yet, I was thrilled he was here even if he was busy staring at my intimate parts. “You just gonna look?”
“I’m waiting.”
Fuck. He expected me to keep that promise. The one I’d given when he was laughing, holding me against him when we were both so wet, and I’d been desperate for a little privacy to groan at my lack of self control.
“I’m still waiting.”
The texture of his voice, so firm, excited me. I couldn’t get my head wrapped around the idea of how much I wanted him. Or that I needed him to be in charge. Of me.
From the first moment we’d been introduced at dinner by friends, I’d been caught.
All it had taken was one long, challenging look from his dark blue eyes and I’d felt instantly aroused, and then annoyed with myself because I wanted him and he knew it.
Just like he knew it now.
His fingers trailed from my clit straight into my slick folds. He swirled in moisture then licked his fingers, all the while holding my gaze. “Anytime, Heather.”
“This’ll be quick,” I muttered, blushing again.
“Fast, slow—I don’t care. But you have to come.”
“And you think you’ll know?”
He canted his head. “I know the look.”
“I have a look?”
“Oh yeah.”
“Can I close my eyes?”
One dark brow arched.
I shook my head. “I didn’t know you were such a control freak.”
“Yeah, you did,” he said softly. “Start wherever you want.”
I swallowed, knowing I was through stalling because I was horribly aroused. I cupped my breasts, hoping that watching me would entice him to join in and end this. He’d said he liked my breasts, and the tips were sore from where he’d played endlessly—licking, flicking, sucking, biting…
My nipples hardened and I plucked and twisted them, pulling then letting them go to jiggle my breasts.
But he remained still, watching, with his hands on his knees as he knelt between my spread thighs.
What the hell? Why did I care that he watched? His intense stare and the color darkening his face said he was into it. That I was turning him on. His cock pulsed, jutting from his groin, hard and thick.
My hands smoothed down my belly; fingertips scraped through the short blonde hair on my mound. I used one hand to spread my folds, the other to tease my clit, swirling on the knot until it grew harder and stretched the hood, causing it to slide away.
Then I thrust two fingers into my pussy, curving my hips to deepen my reach. I let go of my folds and slid a hand beneath my ass, teasing my perineum while I thrust my fingers deeper and twisted them.
Wetness oozed from inside me, soaking my hand, slipping lower to trickle toward my asshole. And because his breathing was becoming louder, raspier, I dared more—using the moisture to wet a fingertip and stick it in my ass.
“Sure you don’t want some of this?” I asked, my voice husky. I lifted my legs and curled my abdomen, the muscles of my belly burning to hold the cramped position, but now I could stroke both holes deeper and he could see everything I did.
My thumb twiddled my clit while I fucked myself. I tucked another finger inside my ass and gave up trying to look pretty, trying not to make faces or unattractive noises, and just let go. My orgasm bloomed, and my face screwed up into that expression, the one he knew meant I was coming—and I flew. My cry was soft and floated away.
Hands slipped over my knees to ease them down. I blinked, only just realizing I’d closed my eyes there at the end.
Craig came over me, waiting as I slowly pulled my fingers from inside me. Then he fit his cock to my entrance and thrust deep into the moist, hot center of me.
We rocked together, me clutching his back, him growling as he thrust faster and harder. Another quick flash burn of pleasure swept me. He shouted, sharpening his shortened thrusts—until he made the face I knew meant he’d found his own orgasmic bliss.
I smiled, damn near purring as his breaths evened out. “You owe me now.”
He grunted. “Think I’ll mind you watching me jerk off?”
“You’ll mind, because I get to say when you can come.”
He blinked then barked a laugh. “You do know it’s going to take me a little while.”
I wrinkled my nose. “I, on the other hand, suffer no such handicap.” I reached up and gripped his ears, then tugged him downward, showing him exactly how he could pass the time.
What is love supposed to look like? I asked my seven-year-old niece, who is obsessed with Disney Princesses, what she thought love was. Her answer? You’re supposed to like each other. Simple enough, and in all honesty not a bad answer. Growing up we all had that fairy tale that we would meet that special someone, fall in love, and live happily ever after. Love is much more complicated than that. Anyone who’s ever been in a relationship can attest to how much work they are. Compromise, fights, financial troubles, children… And just when you think everything has been worked out, something goes wrong. I know my marriage has been tested.
Wolves of Willow Bend
Empire State Building
Jennifer Kacey is a writer, mother, and business owner living with her family in Texas. She sings in the shower, plays piano in her dreams, and has to have a different color of nail polish every week. The best advice she’s ever been given? Find the real you and never settle for anything less.
