Today, I’ll be flying back to Arkansas. Romanticon is over. I had a great time hanging out with my sister, daughter and friends. But I’m ready to be home.

Yesterday was more restful than I expected. For whatever reason, the powers that be didn’t think I’d be there for the big booksigning event, so there wasn’t a place for me. That’s the third time this has happened to me this year. I can’t figure out where I earned that kind of karma, but a couple of you will benefit from my bad luck. I went up and down the line of authors there—and I think there were around 60 of them—to get signatures on cover flats and the conference book bag. I have tons of things to fill two bags actually. I’ll give the first one the day after tomorrow—keep posting!!

I also picked up some interesting jewelry for giveaways. So stay tuned. In the meantime, I have one more little excerpt. A nasty one, since I don’t think you’ll believe me that it’s sexy. 😉 If you’re not over 18, don’t read another word! Our hero and heroine are still in the brothel, being forced into “entertaining” the guests.

The whore-mistress stepped between them, her face red and her eyes glittering. “Finish it.” She dug a finger under his chin to lift his glance. “You really don’t have a choice.”

Shaking now with fury, he ground out, “I am not an animal.”

“Don’t pretend you’re anything but what you are. A barbarian. The women you will serve want nothing less than every bit of your strength.”

“Do they wish to be raped?”

She gave a feminine snort. “It’s not rape. They want to be overcome. To be forced, yes. But they surrender to your mastery of their own free will. Do not disappoint us. There are far worse things that can befall you if you’re stubborn.”

Her gaze whipped to Fatin. “You wish an agreement. I won’t even consider it unless you prove the men you brought me are every bit as feral and savage as you promised.”
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Don’t forget to comment for a chance to win a grab bag of prizes from Romanticon!

Romanticon has been a blast—especially seeing all the little dramas and debaucheries through my daughter’s eyes. Sis was her dance partner, which saved my feet—thanks, Myla! Today’s the booksigning. I hope to see some of you there. You don’t have to buy a book to say hello!

Here’s another excerpt from Enslaved by a Viking. Forgive Eirik for being a little rough when he first gets his hands on Fatin. A man’s dignity can only stand so much. Click on the cover to order it now! Oh, and I changed the countdown number. I really don’t know what day it is. 🙂

“Have you ever seen the like, Calliope?”

The awe-filled tone of the woman beside her made Fatin pause.

“I must have the dark one. Did you see him at the auction? His cock is twice the size of my husband’s.”

The women giggled and moved away, seeking a word with Aliyah while they pointed toward the dark one, Eirik.

Fatin didn’t want to care that the man they bargained to have had been the one she’d been most reluctant to steal.

From the first moment she’d heard his name spoken by the mining camp supervisor on New Iceland, she’d fixed her sights on the Ulfhednar heir, even knowing that kidnapping one of the ruling class was a capital offense. The temptation had been too great. A chance to exploit his plight and the unsavory practice of sexual slavery was more than she’d hoped for.

Why had he kept his identity a secret for so long? Did he fear he’d be killed the moment he did expose the crime? The excuse was plausible. Still, she didn’t think much frightened the man who’d surprised and enthralled her at every turn. Perhaps he hoped to escape and avoid the humiliation of having been bested by a woman, a situation made all the worse by his gentle treatment of her.

She’d posed as a contracted sex-thrall at the remote mining camp. As soon as he’d entered the small, curtained sleep chamber she’d been assigned to await his pleasure, he’d been eager to take her. Moments after yanking closed the curtain, he’d slid away the blanket she’d used to hide her naked form. As any man presented with a whore for his use, he’d begun without any thought except for his own pleasure.

However, once he’d plunged inside her, and she’d gasped, shocked by the fierceness of his invasion and the size of his sex, he’d gentled his assault, taking the time and care to pull her into an arousal so strong, she’d felt a moment’s regret about causing him harm.

“What is your name?” he’d murmured against her lips as she’d straddled him while he sat at the edge of his sleeping bench.

“Fatin,” she’d whispered, meeting his gaze, liking the heat banked in his blue eyes.

His chest had expanded, pressing against her swollen nipples. “You please me,” he’d said, in his deep, rumbling baritone.

She’d felt a twinge of conscience, knowing what she would do.
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OMGah!—yes, I’m channeling Jessica Simpson—I have Internet! And it’s fast! It’s only because EVERYONE’s downstairs dancing with the Cavemen. Yeah, it’s actually Friday night right now, but since I had connection, for once, I’m not wasting it.

I’m having a wonderful time. My daughter’s downstairs, pretty, and you know the guys are enjoying that—I don’t expect to see her until much later. My sister’s probably right up there on the dance floor with her, grinding on a Caveman. However, I shall remain virtuous. I have work to do. 🙁 Copyedits are due for Five Ways to Sunday.

I’m here with another excerpt, trying to whet your appetite for the book coming October 4th. One click on the cover will take you to Amazon.com where you can purchase your copy while it’s still being offered at a reduced price. And yes, it’s print and full length, and the sexiest thing you’re gonna read this Fall.

It was a long-standing joke among Ulfhednar warriors that when they perished on a battlefield, they would tell the Valkyries who came to deliver them to Odin’s hall that they’d prefer the fiery underworld of Muspellheim. For Icelanders had lived so long on their frozen world that searing heat seemed a more fitting paradise.

However, Eirik Ulfhednar knew the truth. The realm of fire wasn’t a mythical land. Due to one fateful error, he’d landed there, and the sultry heat of this godless place wasn’t anything to be envied.

Despite the fans circling high above the garishly appointed salon, the temperature of the room where he stood was sweltering, the air stifling and thick in his lungs. Sweat gathered on his forehead and glazed his bare chest.

For the first time, he was thankful for the inadequate and embarrassing clothing he’d been given. The linen garment draping his hips allowed air to cool his nether regions.

However, the fabric was so thin he might as well have stood naked before those gathered to examine the new arrivals—or “offerings,” as the whore-mistress called them. A term that somehow made him and the men standing in a straight rank behind him seem less human, more like a feast spread out on a banquet table to be devoured. A feast of twenty rugged Icelanders—all with their long hair slicked back in queues behind their heads, their muscular bodies oiled and perfumed like women, and wearing the same transparent swath of fabric about their hips and silver cuffs around their wrists that proclaimed them the lowest order of slaves—sex-thralls.

Every trace of their proud heritage had been erased except for their large, rugged builds—the very qualities that had precipitated their capture and enslavement.

“I count only two guards inside this room,” Hakon murmured beside him, lifting his chin to point toward the tall wooden doors at the entrance of to the salon.

Called Hakon the Bold on their former world, Eirik’s new comrade was just another of the captives being paraded to satisfy the lusty appetites of the Heliopolite elite. All female, thank the stars.

Eirik gave an equally subtle nod toward the windows overlooking the landscaped grounds. Lush green grass, oases of tall flowers and leafy trees, couldn’t hide the armed guards patrolling openly around the facility’s perimeter. “I’ve counted six soldiers so far. Armed with stunners. We haven’t shields to protect us should we try to make a break. They could take us all.”

Hakon grunted. “But we have hostages. Or are you too squeamish to harm women?”

Eirik gave him a narrowed glare. “I wouldn’t hesitate, not for a second, to do what I must to secure our freedom.”

His companion’s casual shrug belied his sharp scrutiny. “I thought I should ask, given how eagerly your body reacts to the vicious bitch that brought us here.”

Not accustomed to having his motives questioned, Eirik bristled. “If I grow hard in Fatin’s presence,” he bit out, “it’s because I envision all the ways I will make her suffer.”

Hakon chuckled. Suspicion cleared from his face. “Good to know you will not shed a tear over her death.”

However, as furious as Eirik was with the woman they discussed, the thought of standing over her lifeless body gave him a moment’s pause. His chest tightened uncomfortably.
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I’m in Akron, sitting in the business office of the hotel because the promised Wi-Fi connection doesn’t work. I missed blogging yesterday due to travel. By the time we all (sis and daughter) arrived here, I was too tired to care.

Anyway, I’m here at Romanticon, hangin’ with the supermodels, seeing old friends (writers and readers), and enjoying watching my daughter’s reactions to everything around us. She’s heard me talking about conferences for years, but this is the one she’s breaking her cherry on. 🙂

To celebrate the release of my latest “Vikings in Space” story, I’m going to give you juicy excerpts for the next few days. Comment and you’ll be eligible for a fun grab bag of swag from Romanticon! I’ve already been gathering trading cards, pens, bookmarks, and assorted “stuff”. I hope to get some autographed books along the way too!

His suffering…

Though proud and strong, Eirik, heir to the Ulfhednars kingdom, found himself seduced and taken from his homeworld by a bounty-hunting vixen, who sold him into slavery. Purchased by a wealthy, Consortium-backed brothel, he is kept at a heavily guarded and secure breeding facility, where he is forced to feed the lustful whims of Helios’s elite at night. He bides his time, waiting for a chance to escape and get his revenge on the woman who betrayed him…

Her satisfaction…

Once a sex thrall, Fatin earned her freedom through service. Now, as a bounty hunter, she is determined to earn enough to buy her sister’s papers from the same brothel she escaped. For this, she abducts a brutishly handsome, breed-worthy specimen from the Viking planet and delivers him to auction. But her desire for justice and his desire for freedom may consume both of them in a passion neither wanted—or can resist.

Eirik tried not to breathe too deeply. The rotten, sour smells of his dark, dank prison already made his skin stink. He didn’t want the awful stench inside his lungs or belly.

He hadn’t seen the other prisoners, not after they’d been herded like cattle through a chute once the hatch had been opened at the side of the ship and his keepers applied prods to their backsides to move them out in single file.

With only brief impressions of his new home, of searing heat and blinding, harsh sunlight, he’d shielded his arm over his eyes and stumbled down the gangway, through the iron-barred alley that disallowed any thoughts of escape.

He’d been led to this cell, deep inside an enormous stone building. A brief glimpse of an open arena, and then he’d been shoved down two flights of narrow stone steps.

Once they’d slammed the solid door and slid the eye-level window closed, he’d been left alone, no sounds penetrating his prison other than the hum of the light above him, and the sounds his own body made.

His thoughts drowned it all out, screaming inside him. He’d wanted to beat his fists against the door, rail at his captors, but he didn’t know if anyone watched him, and wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of knowing how close to abject despair he was coming.

Hel, he’d even suffer Fatin’s derision, her cold, calculating touch, just to feel or hear another human being.
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The winner of this week’s contest is named at the bottom of this post!

Hiya! I wanted to start with a quick word of thanks to Delilah for letting me come hang out on her blog today. She is one of my favorite authors, so it’s a big treat for me to be here. Damn, that gal can write!

I’m a huge fan of top ten lists, so today I thought it might be fun to share the top ten reasons why ebooks ROCK!

10 – Space in my House. Ebooks don’t call for real bookshelves, don’t need to be stored or given away once read, and they don’t need to be dusted.

9 – Novel vs. Novellas. Ebooks come in many lengths. Sometimes I’m in the mood for a quick fix, a short story to pass a few hours. Other times, I want a full-length novel, one that I can get lost in for an entire weekend. Ebooks offer both options…plus lots of sizes in between.

8 – Instant Gratification. I started reading the Twilight series late in the game. I finished New Moon at midnight one night and was chomping at the bit for Eclipse. Problem was the bookstore was closed. If I’d owned my Kindle back then, Eclipse could have been delivered to me wirelessly in less than thirty seconds and you better believe…I would have been pulling an all-nighter. Team Edward!

7 – Go Green. Ebooks don’t require that a rainforest be destroyed to make the paper to print them.

6 – The Ebook Community. Because they are tech savvy, I find ebook readers hang out online quite a bit. I’ve made some wonderful friends who share my love of erotic romance books through yahoo groups. Social networking through common interests. Love it!

5 – The Fabio Cover Factor. I’ll admit it. There were times when I was embarrassed to take a certain book to the checkout counter of the bookstore. I was one of those people would put the book upside down in front of the clerk and then blush when he flipped it over. There were even times when I didn’t buy a book I really, really wanted to read, opting to come back later. This usually occurred when the clerk was a student from my school. The beauty of ebooks is no one sees what I’m buying! Not even my husband. Go personal credit card!

4 – Travel Ease. In the past, I had to allow quite a bit of space in my suitcase for books, especially if it was a long trip. Added to that dilemma was the dreaded “You’re over the weight limit” line from the airline. With ebooks? I can take literally thousands of books with me on vacation and only add a few ounces to my luggage.

3 – Free Reads. There are lots of free read offers through ebook vendors. I’ve never seen this same deal with print books. I’ve discovered several really amazing writers through the free read program at Amazon. Since then, I’ve added some auto-buy authors, including Dominique Adair, Jess Dee, Anne Stuart, Lila Dubois and Jenna Bailey-Burke, to my reading lists, simply because I picked up one of their books for free. Would I have found them without the free read? Maybe. Maybe not.

2 – Cheaper. Ebooks are cheaper than print. In some cases, they are much cheaper. Because of the varying lengths, I can pick up ebooks anywhere from a couple dollars to around ten bucks. Considering I have shelled out as much as thirteen dollars for trade paperbacks and even more than that for hardback, I enjoy the cheaper cost of ebooks.

1 – Variety. There is a wide-range of ebooks out there. Erotic romance novels aren’t that prevalent in print, but in ebook format, the world is my oyster. I can find novels on a variety of the more taboo subjects. Ménages, BDSM, and m/m stories are but a single click away.

And…while we’re on the subject of ebooks, I thought I’d take a moment to share a bit of my latest release, Slam Dunk.

Who says you can only score on the court?

A story from the Black & White Collection.
Trey Donovan is mourning the end of summer with fellow teachers when Ellie Hunter walks into Tully’s Bar. Better yet, she’s now a former rival basketball coach and the newest science teacher at his high school. He can’t think of anyone better to fill the vacant assistant coach job. In fact, if he plays his cards right, she might end up his perfect match off the court, too.

If she stops holding him at arm’s length long enough to give him a chance.

Coming off a year of bad decisions that not only broke her heart, but cost her a job, Ellie has good reason to swear off workplace romances. Her undeniable—and undeniably mutual—attraction to Trey is a serious threat to her resolve. Especially since Trey’s too-easy capitulation to her boundaries stings just a little too much.

Funny thing, though. When she sees Trey dancing with someone else, the edges of her vision turn decidedly green. And when another man tries to kiss Ellie, Trey sees red.

Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to fudge the rules. Just a little. After all, casual sex doesn’t count. Right?
________________________________________
Product Warnings
Lots of red-hot, half-dressed court presses complete with sex toys, food, bubble baths, strip poker and, oh yeah, balls.

“Hey guys,” Cheryl called out as she walked into Tully’s. “Look who I found in the parking lot.”

Trey glanced up and, for a moment, he felt as if he’d been sucker punched. Ellie Hunter followed Cheryl and Lucas to the table.

Then Trey’s grin grew and he stood. “Take a wrong turn, Coach Hunter? Harper’s Ridge is on the other side of town.”

Ellie smiled, but before she could speak, Grace answered. “I invited her. We ran into each other at school today.”

Trey frowned, looking at Ellie. “Why were you at Preston?”

“I had a new teacher meeting to attend. I was checking out my classroom when I ran into Grace.”

Jamie looked at Grace. “Why the hell would you go to school on the last day of summer?”

Grace blushed slightly. “I wanted to work on my bulletin board.”

Lucas laughed. “Nerd.”

Grace threw a pretzel at Lucas’s head while the others laughed. Ordinarily Trey would have been amused by their antics, but he was too busy trying to wrap his head around the idea that Ellie “Hottie” Hunter was now his colleague rather than his competition. She looked smokin’ hot in short shorts and a T-shirt that showcased her perfect curves. Trey felt his cock stir.

“Here,” Trey said, grabbing a chair from an empty table nearby and placing it next to his. He suddenly felt the need to have Ellie in his space, close to him. “Have a seat.”
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Conquering Fear

by Renee Wildes

I am a true April Taurus—earthbound, practical, stubborn and temperamental. My life is ruled by fear. In true “bull” fashion, I tend to meet it head-on. It’s what drives me, not a weakness but a motivator.

I’ve always been a tomboy, preferring horses to boys growing up. I belonged to the Wilderness Challenge Club in high school (Wisconsin Academy in Columbus, WI). Whitewater rafting, caving, rappelling, canoeing. If it meant sunburn, mosquitoes and getting dirty—that was where you’d find me. Very glamorous stuff. Now, I’ve always been afraid of heights. Like—freeze atop a 6-ft ladder scared of heights. We won’t even mention airplanes. Sedatives. LOTS of sedatives…

So, the first time I went rappelling was at Devil’s Lake, from atop Devil’s Rock. Guarded by all manner of…rattlesnakes. Saw two, sunning on the rocks. So there I was on a snake-infested rock atop the world. Beautiful view. Wasted on a sixteen-year-old in a cold sweat. See, the secret to rappelling is to WALK down the rock face. Anyone who’s walked across a floor knows the easiest way to do that is to be perpendicular to the floor surface. So if the floor surface is almost entirely vertical, that means the walker gets to be the one who’s…horizontal. And that translates into standing backwards at the edge of a cliff, the true ground several hundred feet below, and LEANING back against a rope-and-nylon-harness-affair into thin air until you’re lying down on NOTHING—and then walk down the wall.

Sure. Uh huh. (Never said I was a BRIGHT kid. Well, okay, I was. Straight A nerd.) And Mr. Snyder was right there like some hairy bearded cheerleader from Buffy saying stupid things like, “It’s easy. You can do this. Nothing stops you. Just leeeeeean back and walk down.”

But it was my best friend stating “Don’t be such a chicken shit” that got me going. Okay, it took me 20 minutes of whimpering like a toy poodle in a thunderstorm before I leaned back enough to start walking. Reaching the bottom to more Buffy reject cheering felt like conquering Mount Everest.

That’s how I tackle life. I let fear motivate me into moving, defeating, conquering. It can either stop you or get you going. Being a Taurus, stubbornness gets me a long way through life. As a writer I try to let the quality bleed off into my characters. Set them up against a bad situation some would consider impossible, but the character just takes a deep breath, says “Who if not me?” and forges on to start, to try. And so the stories go.

In RIEVER’S HEART, the heroine Verdeen goes to the Icelandic-esque kingdom of Isadorykja with the hero, Daq Aryk. They have to climb a mountain and cross a glacier, and when a crevasse breaks open and an avalanche starts, she has to face her own fears:

They continued on. Rounding a clump of boulders like scattered marbles, Aryk paused and frowned as he eyed the path ahead. A fine latticework of ice crystals covered the surface, as if it had melted and refrozen. He crouched down, pointed to a jagged line transecting the snow. Valkyn studied it as well and nodded.

“What?” Verdeen whispered.

“Partial thaw,” Aryk replied. “Might’ve weakened this area. We cross above that line.”

“Spread out,” Valkyn advised.

They proceeded with caution. Verdeen watched Fiske. The dog’s fur stood on end as he sniffed the air and paced back and forth, stayed close to Aryk. Snow creaked and crunched underfoot, as if the Horn groaned at their intrusion. Verdeen shuddered. Ominous clouds crept across the sky. The dim light pressed like a physical weight against her. She tried to convince herself ’twas just her imagination, but the Horn no longer felt benign. It felt like ’twas waiting…

A sharp crack and Fiske’s startled yelp were the sole warnings as the snow collapsed beneath the dog’s paws, and he dropped. Verdeen choked down a scream as he disappeared into the ground. Aryk hurled himself to the snow, clutching the line. Slowly, he wound the line around his hands, drawing the dog back up with every coil. Verdeen didn’t dare move, scarce dared breathe, as Valkyn crept forward on his belly to the edge of the newly opened crevasse and grabbed Fiske’s harness when the dog came within range, hauling him back onto solid ground. The shaking, whimpering dog tottered over to Aryk, who wasted no time in yanking off his gloves and pulling the dog close enough to bury his face in Fiske’s red fur.

Verdeen’s heart thundered as Valkyn eased away from the treacherous opening. They’d almost lost Fiske. She’d gotten attached in just a few days. How much worse for Aryk, who’d raised him from a pup?

The sharp cracking continued. With a monstrous roar, everything on the lower side of the opening fell away, thundering down the slope in a wall of frozen white. They flung themselves to the ground as the slide fell away, shaking the Horn.

Aryk and Valkyn crawled over to her as the shaking stopped. Aryk reached across the snow to lay a reassuring hand over hers. She was grateful for the comfort as she clambered to her feet and looked down in dismay. Their way was blocked; too unstable to risk it.

BIO:
Fantasy Romance Author Renee Wildes writes the “Guardians of Light” series for Samhain Publishing. She lives in central WI with hubby, 2 kids, a calico cat, a black Chow, and 2 gray half-Arab mares. She still considers herself a tomboy, although she hasn’t hoofed it down Devil’s Rock in years. Nowadays, writing, reading and scrapbooking occupy her time—when she’s not prying her kids out of a tree or off the roof…

Riever’s Heart is out in ebook TODAY Sept. 27, 2011, from Samhain Publishing. Click on the cover to purchase.

Riverboats & Gamblers

by Myla Jackson

I admit to a fascination with riverboats and riverboat gamblers of the past. Taking a riverboat cruise on the mighty Mississippi is on my bucket list of things to do before I die.

There’s something romantic about riverboats, lazily steaming up and down the rivers of our country. Tales by Mark Twain and movies like Show Boat helped nurture my attraction. When I needed a setting for my third book in the Bound and Tied series of 1860 Historical Erotic novellas, I couldn’t think of anything more exciting and romantic than the riverboats along the Mississippi. I can still hear the echoes of Ol’ Man River in a deep baritone and Lovin’ Dat Man O’ Mine.

Like the song, Rosalyn can’t help lovin’ that man and has returned to the Mississippi looking for him in RIVER BOUND.

RIVER BOUND

What do a madame and a bounty hunter have in common? They want the same man.
Bound and Tied, Book 3

When Rosalyn Smythe, aka Madame Rosie, steps aboard the Marie-Dearie, she hopes it’s the end of a year-long search for her runaway fiancé, Dalton Black. Her cabin holds a surprise: James McKendrick. Notorious bounty hunter, old lover…a man only too happy to help her clear the air—and her heart—of her murdering, thieving bastard fiancé once and for all.

In disguise as a riverboat gambler, Dalton is determined to find who framed him for killing two U.S. Army soldiers and who stole the gold they were carrying. He wants his life back—and his woman, who just happens to be on board and on the arm of his former best friend.

Convincing James he’s innocent is easier than winning back Rosalyn’s heart. Especially since Rosalyn seems to be enjoying their competition for her affections a little too much. There’s only one place to work out his dilemma. In bed.

As the sheets become unbearably hot, threads of evidence leading to the real killer are unraveling, leading toward one fateful card game—and one man who’s hell-bent on making sure Dalton has nothing left to lose.

Warning: This title contains hot ménage a trois scenes, bondage, and two men loving, sharing and fighting for the love of one woman with very specific bedroom desires and a a bordello full of experience to tempt any man beyond redemption.

Samhain Publishing
Amazon
Barnes and Nobles Nook

About the Author

Twenty years of livin’ and lovin’ on a South Texas ranch raising horses, cattle, goats, ostriches and emus left an indelible impression on Myla Jackson, one she likes to instill in her red-hot stories. Myla pens wildly sexy, fun adventures of all genres including historical westerns, medieval tales, romantic suspense, contemporary romance and paranormal beasties of all shapes and sexy sizes. She lives in the tree-covered hills of Northwest Arkansas with her husband of 20+ years and her muses—the human-wanna-be canines—Chewy and Sweetpea.

To learn more about Myla Jackson visit her website at https://www.mylajackson.com