I’m thrilled to be a part of Delilah’s Blog. I’ve been a long-time admirer, but I have to admit I had a bit of brain fart about what to talk about. I’m usually quite chatty with people I know and with new people I’m a little bit quiet … unless you get a couple drinks in me.

Most people at RWA in 2008 can attest to this. Can anyone else say they’ve walked through the hotel barefoot, dressed to the nines and carrying an armful of vibrators? *Ahem* I thought not.

Well, that year was my first convention and I thought I’d talk about some firsts.

This year I had a lot of firsts in my writing career this year.

I had my first urban fantasy, Incarnate (written under a new name), release from Samhain Publishing. It was also my first with that publisher.

I wrote my first inter-racial for Ellora’s Cave titled Male Order.

I also wrote my first ever ménage with a male/male scene, which is my third gladiator book, Gladiator’s Seduction coming soon from Ellora’s Cave.

It’s been a lot of year of firsts and a few more, but I can’t divulge any of that information…yet. I know I’m a tease.

One first I can divulge, the one I’m looking forward the most, is my first Romanticon! Woot!

I am super excited to be heading to Ohio (also my first time there) for Romanticon.

I’m super stoked about it. I’m going down with a couple author friends and I’m going to be kicking it with all my favorite peeps, writers and readers alike—also the Cavemen. Can’t forget the Cavemen.

I have been so excited about this trip because I get to meet some more awesome staff at EC. I’ve met Val, Jeannie and Raelene already, but I haven’t met my editor, so I’m stoked about that. Also because when I go to the States and say I write for Ellora’s Cave people actually know the publisher, more than they do up here in Canada. So for me that’s an absolute thrill.

Ellora’s Cave is also my first publisher. They took a chance on me back in 2007 and made my dream come true and I’ve had a lot of firsts with them. First publisher, first editor, first book, first royalty cheque, first book signing, and first book signing at a Sex Show. Yeah, I did say that.

And believe me that sex show was a real eye-opener! It was the first time I signed books for Klingons.

Yes, honest to God Klingons and they were surprisingly delightful.

Okay, so maybe not real Klingons, but they let me sign their books in their human names and tried to recruit me to join the Klingon side. I told them I was strictly Federation.

Anyways, I am super excited to be attending my first Romanticon and to be visiting the Akron area for the first time.

Last week also I had my first bad panic dream about Romanticon. I was there and I brought nothing and I was super MAD.

I have an amazing dress for the Prehistoric night with matching shoes (I’m quite excited about it) and I have an amazing Steampunk outfit for the Futuristic night. I even made my own fascinator for it, but in my dream I forgot it all.

So I’ve started to make my first lists, so I don’t forget anything. I’m pretty anal about that.

The nightmare won’t be my last of the panic Romanticon dreams.

As you can see I’ve had a lot of firsts this year. Granted nothing exciting as the first time (though one of my heroines is going through that right now with a very hunky hero in my current WIP) or first kiss (which I always LOVE to write), but still a lot of fun stuff to look forward to.

So do you have any memorable firsts? If so I’d love to hear from you.

Amy Ruttan started writing at a very young age. Life and responsibility got in the way and writing was put on hold. It wasn’t until the birth of her second child and spending countless hours in a NICU she realized that life is precious and it shouldn’t be wasted.

Amy loves to hear from readers. You can learn more about Amy at her website www.amyruttan.com or her darker alter ego www.acruttan.com, or Twitter.

The oddest, most random things can inspire a story. In the case of my upcoming release, Go Deep, the spark came from a rejected cover for an earlier book. The cover was absolutely stunning, but wrong for the book—it suggested BDSM, which would have been misleading. We went with a different, equally stunning cover, but the first one kept haunting me. It was based on a striking black and white photo of a woman, her hands cuffed behind her back, a collar fastened around her neck. I’ve actually seen the photo used for other covers, which doesn’t surprise me.

A well-done photograph can be so powerful. It draws you into another world and makes you wonder. What’s going on in this scene? What’s going to happen next? Who are these people and how did they come to be here? What’s it like to be them?

I love the photo of this couple because it feels so intimate. But a more “posed” photo can be fun too.

Photographs don’t have to be graphic to pull you in. Some are more about the mood the artist creates with lighting and exposure and little details such as how she’s resting her head on the wall.

I’ve seen so many photos that I wished had a story attached because I wanted to know more. If only all great photographs were actually book covers! If only you could open them up and read about what happened before that frozen moment and after it.

Maybe that’s why my almost-cover photo popped into my mind when I wanted to write about a married couple hiding their true sexual desires from each other. What if the wife came across a photo that haunted her, and the husband saw her reaction? What if that provided the vehicle for them to start really talking to each other and sharing their most intimate needs and desires…

Of course, I had to change the photo to suit my characters. I added a man, then a second one. I changed a few other little details. But the mood of the photo—mysterious, erotic—stayed with me and the story reflects it. Amazingly, the cover artist, Dar Albert, captured a similar mood in her cover—with no prompting from me.

Go Deep is coming out September 7 from Ellora’s Cave. Here’s the final cover and the blurb. You can read an excerpt here.

In honor of my Go Deep release, I’m offering a $5 Amazon gift certificate.
All you have to do is tell me which of the above photos is your favorite!

A standalone sequel to Go Wild.

Beth is the shy, dreamy type. No one guesses at the wild sexual thoughts she hides behind that quiet façade. She doesn’t even share her secret longings with her husband.

Gavin loves his wife, but he’s tired of living in a marriage in which neither he nor Beth reveal their true desires. When Gavin sees Beth’s response to an erotic bondage photo in her framing shop, he jumps at the opportunity to break through her barriers.

He accepts an invitation to a showcase match for the amateur hockey team he coaches during Wild Nights, the infamous winter festival during which “anything goes, nothing counts.” But he’s opened a sensual Pandora’s box—Beth has some surprises of her own. When she meets Eagle, a free-spirited Wild resident, she knows he’s the perfect man to help enact her erotic fantasies. And once they go deep, there’s no going back.

Just a reminder! There’s still time to enter the Little Lizard Boy contest! All you have to do is keep posting commments!

Of Lace and Hems

by Mardi Ballou

Unlike just about everybody else, I love fall. Okay, maybe in part autumn’s my favorite season because my beautiful daughter and I were October babies—yea, October! One of my many other autumn joys is the big fat September issue of Vogue, Elle and other major fashion magazines. Fashion may reign all year, but autumn is the start of the fashionista year. I can justify wasting hours gazing at the pages…uh, make that doing primary research in current trends.

I may not actually ever buy a single stitch from runway shows or designer boutiques—at least not in this lifetime—but that doesn’t stop me from queuing up to get my copies. Makeup, hair, purses and shoes—aka chocolate for my inner fashionista—ensembles for work and play, impossible to walk in stilettos—it’s all there to dream on and inspire.

Gets me to thinking. Dress—and undress—plays a major role in our fantasies and love stories. Getting ready for a hot date with that special guy…hoping the evening won’t end until morning…time to unveil the La Perla or La Senza or Victoria’s Secret we’ve kept tucked away for just the right night.

Seeing the cover of my latest book for the first time is always a surprise. I love it when the artist gods and goddesses exactly capture the fashion feel of my story. In Hook, Wine and Tinker, when Gwen meets Dominic, she’s wearing a Tinkerbell costume she despises. Luckily, he discovers its charms and hers…

Being a Dancing with the Stars fan, I’ve come to appreciate the sexy potential of dance costumes. Even though I’m wearing smelly sweats when I try to follow along with the DWTS exercise DVDs, I imagine myself clad in spandex and sparkles, looking as sexy as one of the TV dancers. Both Sherry Amor and Long, Slow Dance include very sexy dance scenes. I was thrilled to see that same sexiness in their covers.

In Sherry Amor, three people who come together for a business deal in Spain discover a Christmas miracle of love that starts with a fiery flamenco in New York. In Long, Slow Ride, a woman who’s been very disappointed in love attends a wedding and says yes to a dance with the bride and groom’s limo driver—a hot, hot, hot much younger guy.

How about you? Do you have special fashion memories? Is there a night you’ll always remember, made even more vivid when you remember what you wore—at least at the start? Maybe you went shopping to find the perfect dress or bra or shoes or panties to get ready for the date. Or maybe you finally had the chance to wear something you’d been saving forever for a special night…

I wish you many happy fashion adventures this fall!

Cheers, Mardi
www.MardiBallou.com

I look at the places my life has taken me and hope that I was smart enough to enjoy them all while I was there. I had great experiences working as a reporter for weekly newspapers, covering everything from local political meetings, to the trial of a man who shot his wife because she wrecked his car. I once did a tour of thirty stores in one day interviewing Santa Claus. It’s a good thing I didn’t wreck my car! I’ve things both sane and insane, like promoting the opening of a shopping center by sending people up in hot air balloons and stopping traffic for four miles in every directions.

But I think the real richness of my life came from my years managing rock bands.

Rock musicians are a breed unto themselves. The music is their life, and one of their first goals is to be able to move their practice sessions from someone’s garage to a real practice studio. Sometimes they’re lucky and they get to practice far enough out of civilization that only the cows and horses can comment. Other times the poor manager gets to field phone calls from neighbors and—if you’re not lucky—the police, about that “awful sounding stuff”. But wherever they practice, it’s all about the music.

The sound.

Their sound.

And the music is great. It’s good. It’s terrific. The success of a good song can give you the same high as really good sex. The success of your client can take you to orgasmic levels. And despite all the pitfalls, there’s nothing like being at the top, even if the bottom is always just a misstep away.

Last year I went to Johnny Depp’s Viper Room to see a performance by an excellent rock band, Run Devil Run. The moment I stepped into the room it was like stepping into my past, surrounded by memories, excitement and hot music. The person who drew my attention, however, was the bass player. Can you say sex on a stick? He was sooo into his music, and so “hawt” on stage you could feel the energy and electricity sizzling from him. I knew I had to write a story where the hero was based on him.

Check out this shot of him.

And so Joy Ride was born.

The traditional story of the good girl and the bad boy, set against the world of rock music. I hope you’ll come along for the ride with Emma and Marc.

Available at: Decadent Publishing, Amazon, Sony, All Romance eBooks.

Emma, the good girl poster child, is running from a life she suddenly sees as grey and suffocating. A life where she’s successfully buried all her hopes and secret dreams. Until the night she wanders into Aftershock and is immediately drawn to Marc, the hot bass player with the band. Marc doesn’t much care for the groupies who hang around the band. He wants a woman he can create a life with that’s a counterpoint to the craziness of the rock music business. When he sees Emma for the first time something inside him cracks wide open. Just one sizzling glance between them and he’s sure he’s found the woman he wants. But as the relationship grows, there’s a huge stumbling block: Emma won’t tell him her name. The sex is fabulous but he wants more. So does Emma but her fear of everything falling apart builds a barrier she can’t seem to cross. Marc is taking her on the joy ride of her life, but will her own insecurities destroy everything?

Clutching the cold beer bottle in her hand, she wedged her way between gyrating bodies, hypnotized by the music until she reached the front of the crowd…and stopped at the edge of the stage, mesmerized. The bass guitarist stood with one foot balanced on the monitor in front of him, his body leaning into the sound. His head was thrown back, dark hair flying around his face as he pounded out the rhythm of the song they were playing. He was wild, uninhibited, totally immersed in his music. He moved with an incredible grace to the accented beat, hips thrusting as his clever fingers plucked the strings and slid on the neck of the guitar.

For one incredible moment, Emma had the feeling he was playing only for her and she realized she really had been struck by “Lightnin’.” Permanently electrified by it.

A surge of heat raced through her, and it wasn’t the kind that emanated from the tightly packed sweaty bodies. Instead, an electric excitement gripped her, sending a charge of unfamiliar sexual thrill to every nerve. Her breasts tingled and between her thighs, she felt a throbbing as deep as the sound of the bass. At first she stood stiffly, clutching her drink. People jostled and shoved her as they kept time to the beat. She took two quick swallows of the beer, grimacing at the bitter taste. But as the alcohol eased her tension, she found herself catching the rhythm of the music and trying to mimic the movements of the bass player, totally caught up in the seductive lure of the song. For one crazy moment, she was gripped by an uncontrollable urge to jump up on the stage, and bump and grind with him. Her! Emma, the good girl!

Clumsily juggling the beer bottle, she slipped the thin strap of her purse over her head so it lay crosswise between her breasts. Her focus still on the bass player, she swayed to the beat, hips moving, rocking. When the song ended, the bass guitarist threw back his head on a final note and then looked out into the crowd, peering beyond the glare of the stage lights.

His eyes seemed to find hers as if pulled by a magnet, and a fist slammed through her.

Ohmigod!

The Secret to Erotic Romance – The Erotic Premise

I’ve been writing erotic romance from the very beginning of the genre—1995, in Volume 1 of Secrets from Red Sage Publishing. By happy mistake, I learned from the start that for a story to have that extra sexual edge that puts it over the boundary from hot into super-sensual, it must be about sex in a way other stories aren’t. In other words, the very premise of the story and/or the plot centers on sex.

I stumbled on what I thought was a luscious idea—a male sex slave. I called him a lady’s handsome man, and his only function in life was to satisfy the daughter of the noble house in which he served. Obviously, this was a fantasy story. He’d escaped from his master and was on the run. Whose cabin should he stumble into? A priestess who’d fallen from grace by having a sexual liaison with her mentor.

Given the tension between this couple, the story was about sex, even when they weren’t actually engaged in the act. The man, who’d spent his life learning how to satisfy a woman, was sex in a basic way.

I often judge writing contests, and I’ve found that some authors think all they have to do is create a story and put a lot of sex in it. In my experience, that doesn’t work. A general test for whether or not you have a sexy premise is to try to imagine the story as a sweet romance. If you could take the sex out of it and still write the story, you don’t have an erotic story.

For comparison purposes, let’s think of a few premises and see which ones are sexy.
Story 1: A woman needs a fake fiancé for a weekend at a friend’s wedding.
Story 2: A woman needs a fake fiancé for an “explore your sexuality” weekend.
Story 3: A man wants to win back his ex-wife, knowing that he was the only man who could satisfy her in bed.
Story 4: A man wants to win back his ex-wife by using his company’s latest acquisition, the exclusive fantasy sex club she’s been attending.
Story 5: A woman is trapped in a snow storm in a mountain cabin with a man she’s always been attracted to. Story 6: A woman is trapped in a snow storm in a mountain cabin with a man who offers her the opportunity to act out all her sexual fantasies.

I think you can see that the even numbered stories maintain a sexual tension throughout the pages. Virtually every moment is going to be sexually charged.

As an exercise, try to think up some sexy premises. You’ll find a treasure trove of story ideas.

By the way, I wrote Story 4. It’s called Cox Club, and it’s out now in Secrets, Volume 30 from Red Sage. Here’s an excerpt:

Blake Crawford went from the back entrance of Cox Club up the narrow stairs to the control room. If an employee—now a former employee—hadn’t acquired a place like this, he would have never set foot in it at all. He sure as hell wasn’t going to risk any of the patrons or staff recognizing him and alerting the media that Crawford Hotels and Entertainment, Inc. owned a sex club, even one as exclusive as this one.

A small man with a balding head and a bit of a paunch over the belt of his slacks greeted him at the top of the stairs, extending his hand. “You the new owner?”

Blake shook. “Temporarily.”

“Don’t know why Becker sold. This place practically mints money,” the man said. “I’m Howard, by the way.”

“Blake Crawford.”

“I recognized you. Come on in.”

The man led Blake into a dimly lit room full of control panels and video screens like the ones used in high-tech security. One showed the front of the building and another the dance floor. Various other monitors captured more remote corners of the club.

“You tape your customers?” he asked.

“We don’t tape anyone, but we watch.”

“In God’s name, why?”

Howard laughed. “You’re the first guy ever to ask that. Everyone else just volunteers.”

“Seriously, don’t the customers complain?”
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Psst! Be sure to check out today’s blog at Girls Who Bite! C.J. Ellison is donating two copies of both books in The V V Inn series to two commenters today!

In the meantime… Yup, I have a short story in The Mammoth Book of Hot Romance, which releases today in the U.S.! It’s entitled “Hot Out Here”—and the only way you’ll get to read it is if you happen to beg, borrow, or buy your very own copy. Enjoy the excerpt!

Beads of condensation, glittering jewel-like in the sputtering candlelight, ran in rivulets down the sides of Jason’s ice-cold beer.

Detail I shouldn’t have been able to note, given the fact I wasn’t anywhere near him.

As I lowered my nephew’s toy binoculars, I reflected that I had indeed sunk to a new low. You see, my bedroom window conveniently overlooked Jason and Robert’s fenced backyard. A fact that never registered with the previous tenants, but one that proved too delicious to ignore after the arrival of the handsome duo.

I began a furtive surveillance at once. One that had me cringing in embarrassment each time I greeted them in passing and feeling even more ashamed when we struck up a friendship.

We’d shared meals, drinks, watched football games together on their wide-screen TV. And still, I peeked into their backyard, waiting for those moments when they popped outside to mow it or catch a few summer rays. Their bodies gleamed with sweat while raw lust warred inside me along with the fear that I’d mess up our relationship if I let the guys know how I really felt.

My convenient perch on the windowsill afforded me a window into their private lives, and I was hooked from the very beginning. They’d become an obsession, one frustrated by the fact they treated me like a kid sister rather than a woman one of them might desire.

And therein lay another problem. I’d resisted the urge to seek a deeper relationship because then I’d have to choose. My libido was completely fickle, lusting after Jason’s muscled physique, then sighing over the possibilities of what Robert’s tall, bony frame and large feet hinted at. That their personalities were perfect bookends, fierce and funny, confused my heart as well.
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I’m busy unpacking from this past weekend’s trip to Memphis. I have pictures, but they’re still in the camera. I hope to get to those this week, but I’m also gearing up for one last trip this coming weekend. I’m heading to Oklahoma City for a ranch rodeo. More about that later!

A reminder: Tomorrow, The Mammoth Book of Hot Romance releases, officially, here in The States! It’s one of those huge compilations with tons of A-list authors. I have a story, Hot Out Here, that’s a sexy, contemporary menage. Just sayin’…

The Little Lizard Boy contest continues. Next week when this one winds down, I have some Elvis memorabilia to share. So stay tuned!

In the meantime, I have a lot of catching up to do. Lord, it’s good to be back home! ~DD