NaNo Day 4:
SS-2—3406 words

If the only reason you are here is to find out who won the Amazon Gift Card Contest, keep reading…

Sunday Report Card

If you look at the top of the last three days’ blogs, you’ll see some bright blue lettering that is impossible to miss! It’s my NaNoWriMo progress. I figure if I have to report my progress in a very public fashion, I’ll be less inclined to blow it off. There are no days off for me this month. I must complete a minimum of 50,000 words (preferably 65,000, because that’s what I need to finish my novel!). This would be an entirely doable goal if I didn’t have a trip to DC planned for next week. Yeah, stupid me decided she HAD to travel, by car, to visit family in the middle of her busiest writing month of the year!

There’ a newborn I’m dying to see. Plus if I hadn’t said I’d go, the Red-Headed Hellion would have gone by herself, and that’s not happening, so I have to figure out how to meet my writing goals even though a big fat chunk of time is excluded from my available writing days. Let’s do the math. My book needs 65,000 words. As of this morning, I have 4611 words, so that means I have to write another 60,389 words. Divide that total by the number of writing days I have left and…holy crap! I have to write 2875 words over 21 days. Okay, now I’m feeling a little queasy.

It’s possible. Maybe I won’t have a single sick day. Maybe my family will leave me completely alone during WRITING TIME. Maybe.

That’s the goal. Let’s see how I do. If you see me slacking up—nag, nag, nag!!!

BTW. This past Monday through Thursday, I wrote a short story for my super alpha anthology for Cleis (4700 words), and completely edited and shipped it off to my “handler” at Cleis. Cross your fingers she loves it.

That’s all the writing news. Hope you enjoyed yesterday’s peek inside A Perfect Trifecta, which is releasing in 9 days! See how I got that plug in? I’m tricky like that.

* * * * *

The Winner

So back to the winner of that contest…

The winner (by random number generator) of the Amazon Gift Card Contest is…Rita Wray (Oct 30)! Rita, send me an email to let me know you saw this. Congratulations!

* * * * *

The DC Kitschy Contest!

What can you win? I don’t know! When I go to DC, I will look around for some suitably kitschy DC tourist thing (a snow globe? a pencil shaped like the Washington Monument?), and that will be the prize. Aren’t you dying to win something you have no clue what it will be? Yay!

What do you have to do to win? Post comments on this blog from now until the contest ends! Each time you post counts as another entry!

This contest ends on November 15th!

* * * * *

While I’m gone, starting Wednesday, I will have a slew (what does that mean?!) of wonderful guests and some pre-posted blogs of mine, so be sure to drop in, post a comment and make the guests feel welcome while you enter for that surprise prize! Love ya. Have pages to write! Outtie.

NaNo Day 3:
SS-2—3037 words

FYI, I’ll announce the winner of the gift certificate tomorrow. So there’s still time to enter. See details on my Contest page. ~DD

Bet you thought I was never comin’ back. Well, I have been busy. I just wrapped up the “super alpha” antho and shipped it–and no, I can’t tell anyone who made my final cut, because the wonderful folks at Cleis still have to give it their blessing. They have been known to kick a story.

Now, I’m joining NaNoWriMo to slam pages on the Shattered Souls sequel. I don’t know how to tell you folks how much I love this series. I hope you’ll give it a chance. I hope you’ll pre-order SS to give it a chance for others to find it, I believe in it that much. That being said, do you know I have a book coming out in just 10 days? The next Delta Heat story? That’s right. Have you heard me say the story’s all about sex? Yeah, for some reason my fireman and his pretty little sub can’t manage to be in the same room and not get busy. When Craig the cop was added to the equation all hell broke loose. I have a scene I plucked from pretty far into the book. What’s the lead up? Let’s see. Aiden, the fireman, is a Dom who’s a frustrated sadist. He can’t let go with his little subbie the way he wants for fear of hurting her. Enter Craig who gets off on pain. A menage made in heaven? You’ll have to wait and see. Here, Craig’s dealing out a little punishment to a very sorry Jenn. 🙂

Excerpt:

Jenn didn’t find Aiden’s car at the usual places—the apartment building or La Forge—so she drove to the firehouse. There, she found his black pickup parked outside. She pulled in beside it then let herself out. So she’d found him. But she still didn’t know yet what she’d say.

Hoping she hadn’t completely fucked up their relationship, she walked through the bay, down the hallway to the rec room. She peeked inside, noted the TV blaring and gave a wave to one of the men who started to stand. He knew her and eased back into his armchair.

The clank of weights dropping drew her attention. Moving farther down the hall, she stood at the door of the small gym room. Several other firefighters were inside, mostly sitting on benches and talking. One of them noted her appearance, slapped the man next to him, and suddenly they were trailing past her, leaving her alone with the man who pretended she wasn’t there.

The barbells he lifted in rapid succession were heavily weighted. He was sweating. Shirtless. Wearing just a pair of plain gray sweatpants and sneakers.

Her mouth watered because she wanted to lick at the sweat. But she shook herself. Aiden needed something from her.

Trying not to think about what she was doing, she went with her instincts. Her submissive heart. She strolled slowly inside, dropped her purse beside the door and closed the door before she stripped to the skin. Naked, she walked toward him and knelt beside the bench where he reclined.

Aiden continued to ignore her.

For her part, she ignored the hardness of the polished concrete floor beneath her knees. Other things weren’t so easy to push out of her mind as she waited. His body was so beautiful. So strong. A study in rippling, übermasculine muscle.

Every flex heightened her awareness of the things she loved about his body. The strength of his embrace. How safe he made her feel. The sheer power he kept tightly controlled every time he touched her. Aiden didn’t trust that strength. Not when it came to her. And she’d resented it.

But that restraint was a testament to his desire to protect anyone weaker than he was. Proof of his deep feelings for her. How selfish had she been to want to push him into losing his control for her own pleasure?

He settled the weights into their bracket then jackknifed to sit with his legs straddling the bench.

Jenn didn’t dare glance up. Not until he said something. Gave her permission.

“Why are you here?”

She closed her eyes. What was the right thing to say? Rather than the apology she wanted to give him, she whispered, “I’m here to be punished.”

After a long, pregnant silence, he asked, “Did you even lock the door?” Read the rest of this entry »

NaNo Day 2:
SS-2—1574 words

You know that feeling when you finish a book and you loved the characters so much you want to immediately read it all over again? Or when you slow down toward the end (or try, anyway!) because you really, really don’t want it to end? When I love a book, I do all of the above.

So imagine how it is when you’re actually writing the book, and it’s part of a series, and you’ve come to know the characters over four books and three years. That’s what’s going on with me right now as the final book in the Receptionist series, UNLEASHING THE RECEPTIONIST, comes out. Talk about separation anxiety. I’m a basketcase! 

I still remember where I was when I wrote the first word in this series (the café at the Anchorage public library.) Of course I didn’t know it would be a series then. It was just a book written on a whim, a saucy, kinky nod to office power politics called TRAINING THE RECEPTIONIST, starring Dana Arthur and her two sexy bosses. But the characters weren’t done with me yet, and I felt called to write a sequel (RESTRAINING THE RECEPTIONIST.) And then, a wonderful reviewer wondered if I was ever going to write about the past of the two heroes, Ethan Cowell and Simon Dirk. Well, of course I was, now that she mentioned it! As soon as I read her review, I knew exactly how I wanted to reveal the secret incident that brought them together.

(If you ever wondered whether reviews influence authors, in this case it definitely happened.)

Dana, Ethan and Simon and I go way back, and saying goodbye is difficult. Those three sure know how to rock each other’s worlds, and they’ve certainly rocked mine. Here’s the blurb for the last installment in their story, as well as an R-rated excerpt. And this is me, blowing kisses to my dear departing characters.

You can tie a girl up, but you can’t keep her down…

…the Receptionist, Book 3

In the year since Dana joined Ethan and Simon’s firm, the three of them have found the perfect balance of power and pleasure in their three-way, work/play relationship. Not only that, but it’s been the firm’s most successful year financially.

Except something is missing. Her men won’t tell her anything about their past. How they met, or how they formed such an unconventional business and personal partnership. Until they start sharing their secrets, Dana fears she’ll always be the odd girl out.

Everything changes when a vengeful former partner resurfaces. Suddenly, both the business and their idyllic relationship are under siege. With a tax auditor watching their every move, the three must be on their best behavior.

Never one to back down from a challenge, Dana seizes the chance to prove herself—and finally win her sexy bosses’ full trust and confidence. Now the race is on to root the evil nemesis out of their lives once and for all—before her dream relationship cracks under the pressure. 

Product Warnings: Contains hot three-way M/F/M sex, highly inappropriate office behavior, a shocking secret, a kinky accountant and some really bad girl-on-girl porno reenactments.

 Excerpt:

On a typical workday, if I’m chained to my desk it’s with silk cords and for one purpose only—because it leads to screaming orgasms for me and my two delectable bosses, Simon and Ethan.

With one exception. Business plan time.

During business plan, I’m chained to the desk in the usual, strictly metaphorical way. You know, working. Needless to say, it’s not my favorite time of year. It’s tough to spend all day and half the night shut up inside an office with two sexy gods when neither has touched you once. But maybe that’s just me. Not every receptionist has been trained to receive pleasure as well as incoming calls.

“Dana,” said Ethan, jolting me from my sexually frustrated daze. “Can you put another pot of coffee on, luv? And then I’ll need the P&L’s again.”

I hid a sigh as I trudged to the kitchenette. “Coming up.”

At least the profit and loss statements were good. Cowell & Dirk had had a very satisfactory year. Especially if you asked the only actual employee—me. I had experienced a blissfully high level of job satisfaction since Simon had hired and trained me.

“Mu shu pork okay?” called Simon. “I’m ordering from Great Wok.”

Now that was more like it. My mood brightened as I put on the coffee and gathered up the files. I’d do anything for my bosses, we all knew that. But I certainly preferred some duties to others.

“Food’s on its way,” said Simon when I returned with the coffee pot. “If I could only tear Ethan away from that spreadsheet.” He shot me a green-eyed pirate wink. His hair was a tousled black mess, but I loved my Simon in all his moods.

I gave him a questioning glance, wanting to make sure I’d interpreted correctly. Simon and Ethan had a strange bond, one I couldn’t quite figure out even though I was closer to them than anyone. They seemed to read each other without words. Simon gave me a go-ahead tilt of his head. With his wrinkled white shirt open at the neck, he looked half-drunk, as if he’d been swilling expensive brandy all night instead of crunching numbers.

“Maybe we need to spread something else in front of him,” I suggested. I put down the files and the coffee and prowled toward Ethan, who barely looked up from his swivel chair. He wore his reading glasses, his grizzled blond head bent over the desk. I challenge you to find anyone hotter than a sexual beast like Ethan with a pair of wire rims perched on his much-broken nose.

I knew from the angle of his head that he was tracking my approach. Ethan was like a wild animal picking up scents, especially the scent of eager Dana. His nostrils flared as I came close to the desk. Read the rest of this entry »

NaNo Day 1:
SS-2—0 words

“Why do you write?”

I think that’s a question some writers struggle with answering in their own minds as much as they do answering it when someone else poses it.

The responses run the gamut from a shrug and an “I don’t know, I just do,” to, “I’m a writer; I have to write” to, “the characters won’t let me sleep.” I’m not making fun, here. I believe those are all honest answers. I know writers who get fidgety if they can’t let the words flow. I know others who say it’s a job, and has to be treated as such – but still feel over the moon after writing a tight scene or solving the crime or reuniting lost lovers.

My reasons for writing are entirely selfish. Well, not entirely – I’m more than happy to let readers in on the game, too.

It’s the vicarious thrill.

There, I’ve said it. And you know it’s true.

Who hasn’t imagined themselves as one character or another? Wanted to be Harry Potter, one day a normal kid, the next a magical defender against the ultimate evil. Or Janet Evanovich’s Stephanie Plum, who gets to eat junk all day, try to chase bad guys, and be faced with the tough decision of cuddling up with Ranger or Morelli. (Forget choosing, I say – go with both!) Or be Linda Howard’s Cate Nightingale from Cover of Night, a widowed mother of two who makes the sexy town handyman stutter with lust and love.

That’s the whole point of reading a great book – the escapism of imaging yourself as someone else, somewhere else, doing something else.

I write because it puts me in charge of the fantasy.

I’m not supermom, but I can write a character who manages to start a business, attend soccer practice, make home-cooked meals and win the love of a rock star.

I’ve never been a dancer – think more Elaine’s weird dance from Seinfeld – but one of my characters can seduce the pants off the man in her life, and take to the wild side while she’s doing it.

And no way am I a soldier on a world far, far away, but my heroine can kick asses, take names and win the love of not one good man, but two.

Now there’s living vicariously.

* * * * *

Available now from Samhain Publishing: Three Wicked Wishes

“What is your deepest, most secret, most treasured desire?”

Cassie Parker doesn’t know either when the exotic woman who materialized in her living room asks. One minute, she’s enjoying wine – a lot of wine – over reruns of I Dream of Jeannie, the next – poof! When she wakes the next morning, hung over and late for work, Cassie is convinced it was all a dream.

Until the real dreams begin. Involving David Michalek, her boss, so sexy in his Clark Kent-Superman kind of way.

David, as triumphant knight to her fair lady.

David, but two of him, as the sensual twin club owners who ask her to judge a most intimate contest.

David, this time in triplicate, the consorts of a galactic princess.

David, the man she’s fallen deeply, passionately, impossibly in love with.

And he doesn’t have a clue.

What’s a girl to do?

Too bad it’s just a dream. Or is it?

Find me at:
Website: RainaJames.com
On Twitter: @RainaJames
On Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/raina.james.77

This year I’ve been notoriously late for my blog posts, but I promise it’s with mostly good reason. Delilah was so sweet when I shared with her why I’m sending this at the last minute. I had surgery early in October—my first ever. We removed a tumor and my thyroid. Anyway, that’s not what this post is about. It’s Halloween! Time for hauntings and I wanted to share a true life horror moment with you guys—which stems from my hospital stay. I decided to make you the hero or heroine in the story, so enjoy my dark ride.

They wheel you down a long corridor, your honey is holding your hand and trying to keep his shit together, because after all, he is the hero of your dreams and has to live up to that status. You get one last moment to hug him, kiss him, and get a little grope if you’re lucky—or like me. He scolds you, “Behave. And you better make it through this so I can punish you for that.”

You are pushed into a large room with curtained stalls. There are bodies all around you. They draw the curtains so now it’s just you. The sounds around you are men and women telling others what is about to happen. You’ve been told that they’ll give you a happy drug to keep you calm during this stage, but so far nothing. A man wails about his wounded leg even though he lost it in WWII. Another man moans. A woman is weeping softly in the stall next to you while they talk about a double mastectomy. It is all too real.

A man comes in and inserts an IV. An hour passes. The time can be measured by the lovely round clock directly above your feet. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

“Okay, it’s your turn.”

You frantically grasp the side of the bed frame and swivel up to see your doctor and nurse. “Wait. I was told I would have a happy drug before this shit went down. I really want that.”

The Doctor grins at you. His skull cap has pushed thick eyebrows low over his beady eyes and he winks. “I think you can make it.”

“Well, of course I can, but I don’t really want to if I don’t have to.”

Someone shoots something in your IV and the corridor lights grow fluffy and fade. Ah, you are much happier now. There’s some conversation around you. Someone puts a mask over your face and tells you to breathe. Breathe again. Breathe some more.

Three hours later.

You hear people calling your name and they want you to wake up to the burning pain. No. It’s much nicer in the dark.

“Wake up.”

Dim lights meet you and you’re again in a room full of stalls filled with other moaning, groaning bodies. Someone sits down next to you and takes your hand. The pain is unbearable, but you don’t say anything except to answer their many questions.

“What is your name.”

You answer.

“What day is it?”

You didn’t know that going in, so you guess. They don’t like this.

“Who is the president.”

You smirk. Really?

A man is woken two stalls down and he’s big, and mad. He fights the nurse. Your crew runs to help and it takes six of them to put him back on his bed. There is moaning and groaning everywhere. But it’s okay, because they have left you to suffer through your pain in peace.

A cute male nurse leans over you. A nice distraction from the fire inside. You try to open your eyes and watch his sexy ass as he twists and turns on his stool. He has blue eyes, but they are dull and not as blue as the man waiting for you somewhere else in the hospital. You reach up toward your incision, hoping to scratch away the pain.

He takes out a syringe and lays it on the bed next to you. So close. You can almost reach it if he wasn’t holding your arm down now. He smiles and you think, yes, he’s going to end this suffering. But he doesn’t. Instead he leans over and whispers. “It’ll be about fifteen more minutes before I can give you something for the pain.”

You glance up and through the slits of your eyes see the round clock stationed directly beyond you. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

Okay, so the pain goes away with morphine—who knew? But, that really is how my OR experience went and it really is a terrifying moment. Horror doesn’t always have to be ghouls and goblins. Most of the time, it’s these events in our life that we draw from when we write. And you better believe that this experience will be in a book some day—a very sexy one.  😉 I hope you all have a safe and sexy Halloween, and if you are misplaced because of Sandy, just remember, if you have your health and safety, that is the most important thing.

Psst! Remember! This Thursday is the close of the Amazon Gift Certificate Contest!
So be sure to post those comments! ~DD

* * * * *

Such a crazy time for me! I’m trying to get my office straightened so the piles of books and papers don’t make me crazy. Clean desk = fresh start, for me, and I want to be ready to dive into NaNoWriMo on the first. Don’t know what that is? Imagine thousands of crazy writers, hunkering over their keyboards for a month. Family, friends and lovers told to take a rain check because, hey, we have a job to do! The goal? 50,000 words of story in one month.

I’m trying to declutter in preparation. I also have that Super Alpha collection to get out the door. My own short story isn’t finished! Bad author, me! But come Thursday morning, I’ll be ready. Even revitalized. Expectant. Something wonderful will happen. All that positive energy zinging around the web, some of it’s bound to leak through my connection and flow right over me.

Or at least that’s my story and I’m sticking to it! Anyone else planning to “NaNo” all November? Want to be my buddy? My NaNo name is DelilahDevlin. I’ll be your buddy if you promise to kick my ass when I fall behind!

THE AGONY AND ECSTASY OF BEING A WRITER

For me, writing isn’t something that I do. It’s what I am. I am a writer. I love it. It’s my breath and I was put on this good Earth to do just that… to write.

There’s nothing better than carving out characters, giving them life on paper and then seeing them published for the world to enjoy.

To see them grow from a barely there idea to a fully fleshed out story, there’s something pure in it. 

Something other worldly.

I’ve had numerous short stories published over the last couple of years, and there are a few more to follow in 2013. I somehow fell into writing erotica and haven’t looked back since. I love it, and usually ramp up the tension by putting a thrilling edge running alongside the erotica.

I’ve been told I have a very forceful, almost staccato style of writing.  Perhaps it’s because I’m born on the fourth of July. I’m fiercely independent, and so is my writing.

It’s as unique as my finger print. 

That’s what I believe anyway.

I have been writing ever since I can remember, and there’s nothing in this world I’d rather do. So the goal is simple—to become a multi-published writer who earns enough money to do it full time.

That’s the ecstasy.

But at the moment, I’m in agony.

How do I know? My best friend asked me how I was feeling, and I replied, “Sad, I’m feeling sad and I don’t know why.”

“You’re sad because you’re not writing,” she said without missing a beat.

“How do you know that?”

“Because you’re spending eight hours here, at work, when you should be fulfilling your soul purpose.”

It was like a lightning bolt of realisation.

I’m sad because I’m not writing.

But I have to pay the bills. A long spell of unemployment a while back has me working the nine to five… and honestly, I don’t mind (have you ever tried to live on £120 Government Assistance every two weeks?). I want to work; I need to work.

But how do I stop feeling sad? It’s like my soul is crying out because it’s missing something.

It’s missing writing.

But how do I write? When do I write? I’m so exhausted after work, its dinner, bed, sleep, work, and repeat five days a week.

The weekends are spent catching up with the house work and simply getting my breath back.

Then Monday morning hits.

So, dear reader… have you been through this? Do you have any advice you can offer? How do you balance the world of work with the universe of your writing? How do I achieve the greatness that you know you’re supposed to achieve and pay the bills in the mean time?

I’d love to hear your thoughts, your tips for finding balance and doing what you love.

Find me at tahiraiqbal.com.
Tweet me at @tahiraiqbal