When I was last here, (April 6 to be exact), I chatted about my linked erotica titles, His Purchase and His Filly, before turning to what still consumes most of us—Coronavirus or whatever name you call it by. I mentioned that my son’s cancer surgery had been canceled at the last moment. We had no idea when it could be rescheduled. Well, two weeks ago he got The Call and a week ago today he underwent 7 hours of surgery. The operation took place in a major hospital five hours from where we live. Pulling rank, he and his brother insisted that Mom stay home and said brother would take, stay there, and retrieve him. (They actually spouted some nonsense about my ‘advanced’ age putting me in a high-risk category.)

I’m hugely relieved to report that the patient is home and recovering. (We live together.) We went to the local wound center yesterday where the nurse practitioner said the surgeon’s work was the best she’s ever seen. No infection. Wounds from laparoscopic surgery healing. He still has a long road ahead of him, but something happened to me on the way home I want to share.

For the first time since the diagnosis a year ago February, I truly want to write. I need to! I’ve pounded out words to meet contracts and because that’s what I do, but my heart and concentration hadn’t been in it. Now the damnable tumor is gone from the body of one of the two most important people in my life! (Of course, his brother is the other.)

I’d wondered and half-believed the drive, the need to create, that has always been a vital part of me was gone. I’d never get it back. That writing came in such a poor second to the risk to my son’s life that my career longer mattered. But it was there all this time, waiting for my mind and heart to unlock.

I’m more than halfway through my latest story. Diving back into it today will be a celebration. I want to share that celebration with readers. This is what I’ve come up with. If spanking stories are your thing and you’re one of the first five readers to contact me at VonnaWriter@gmail.com and mention you saw this on Deliah’s blog, I’d love to send you a free copy of either His Purchase or His Filly. No strings attached but if you leave reviews on Amazon and are so inclined, that would be wonderful.

To give you an idea what you’d be getting, here are a couple of Amazon links plus cover images.

His Purchase: https://www.amazon.com/His-Purchase-Society-Book-1-ebook/dp/B07FNHM37V/ref=sr_1_1?dchild=1&keywords=His+Purchase+by+Vonna+Harper&qid=1587579243&sr=8-1
His Filly: https://www.amazon.com/His-Filly-Society-Book-2-ebook/dp/B07FNHRK6S/ref=sr_1_1?crid=228PI8UYUL3CT&dchild=1&keywords=his+filly+vonna+harper&qid=1587579211&s=digital-text&sprefix=His+Filly%2Caps%2C220&sr=1-1

Vonna Harper isn’t the real me. I created her to hide behind.

Vonna is a sexually liberated writer of many erotica and erotic titles who gives her imagination free rein while the real me writes much tamer stuff. For a long time I tried to keep the two separate, but today it doesn’t matter. Vonna’s creator needs to come out of the shadows and share something deeply personal about coronavirus’s impact on our family.

I suspect everyone who reads this has been touched by the pandemic in some way. Here’s my story. A little over a year ago the adult son I live with was diagnosed with stage three colon cancer. We (yes, both of us) have been through a year plus of hell highlighted by chemo, radiation, heart damage, two infections, three trips to the ER, countless blood tests, and countless sleepless nights.

He was scheduled to have the tumor cut out on March 26. We live over four hours away from the big city cancer center where the surgery would take place. He and his brother, my other son, insisted that Mom not subject her ancient immune system to what we acknowledge is a greater risk of catching the virus. My other son, an educator (what he’s going through is a story of its own), insisted on going with his brother and staying for the approximately five days he’d be hospitalized. I stayed home with the dogs and my thoughts.

The morning of the trip (the day before the surgery) my sons had just gotten on the road when the surgeon called to inform us that the operation was still a go and she was fighting to keep it on the schedule.

Four hours later as they exited the freeway, a second call came. Surgery had been canceled. No rescheduling until the hospital is no longer full of coronavirus patients and dedicated medical professionals.

My sons came home. We wait.

As almost an aside, I promise my erotica is a different experience from what you just read. For proof, I offer a couple of recent titles that include spanking scenes.  His Purchase and His Filly take place in The Society which is made up of Elites and Others. In other words, dominants and submissives.

Alia is an Other, a woman with secrets and few rights in a dark world controlled by The Society.

Kade is an Elite, a wealthy, powerful man who knows how to get the ultimate performance from Alia. Whatever it takes, he will bring his sexy, strong-headed acquisition into line.

When she defies him, Kade repeatedly applies his large hand to her bare bottom until it burns and she’s reduced to tears. Until she can’t fight her erotic reaction.

The next time she defies him, she refuses to explain why. He commands her to strip naked and submit to another harsh spanking. As if that isn’t enough, she has no choice but to let him place a butt plug inside her.

Alia wants to hate Kade for doing these shameful things to her, but his firm handling arouses her in ways she can’t deny or resist.

It will take all her resolve not to admit her deepest secret to this man who owns her.

Get your copy here!

Kali has no choice but to work for Boden, a wealthy, powerful Elite. As a vulnerable Other in a dark world of control and controlled, Kali knows her submissive position within the Society. But her vow to do everything she can to protect his valuable racehorses puts her on a collision course with the man who in essence owns her.

Boden decides to discipline the lovely, headstrong young woman via a hard bare bottom spanking. To her shock, she’s deeply aroused. She can’t hide her erotic response which he uses to his advantage.

The lessons continue to take place. Boden doesn’t hesitate to order her to pull down her pants and expose her vulnerable, naked ass. She shudders with every blow then moans when his all-knowing hands slide between her legs. She can’t stop him, can only submit.

Surrender.
Experience.
Want.

Wonder if anything will be left of her.

Get your copy here!

UPDATE: The winners are…Delaine McLafferty and Mary McCoy!
*~*~*

I’m pleased to see that the number of subscribers to my blog is growing! You’re discovering that there’s always something happening here! Whether it’s seeing what other authors are giving you in the way of new stories or playing puzzles or entering to win prizes—there is always something new. Thanks for stopping by and being a part of this romance writer’s community! If you haven’t already subscribed, check out the left-hand column of this page and do it now! ~DD

Flashback: Slow Rider (Contest–2 Winners!)

When Joe Chavez and fellow sheriff’s deputy, Logan Ross, pull over a speeding motorcycle in the middle of the night, neither is particularly shocked to find Paraiso’s wild child, Sarah Michelson, riding bare-assed naked, nor are they surprised when she invites them to join her in a sexy threesome.

Talking her way out of an embarrassing date with the county judge, who just happens to be her daddy, Sarah promises the officers the ride of their lives. Having the men turn the tables on her and introduce her to some scary D/s play, she learns some things about herself she never suspected. Too bad Joe will never see her as anything but a sexy hell cat in need of taming…

Read an excerpt here!

Contest

Comment on this post to win your choice of one of the books in the Texas Cowboys series! This series is a very sexy set of stories set in a small town in Texas, where cowboys and lawmen are “bound & determined” to win their ladies any way they can!

Here are all the stories in the Texas Cowboy series!

Click on the covers to learn more!

UPDATE: The winners are… Delaine McLafferty, Misty Dawn Cecil, and Elaine Swinney!
*~*~*

Besides my series, I have written some very sexy standalone stories, too! I forget about them because I’m so busy trying to keep up with series, but I shouldn’t. In fact, I should go back and look at my workplan, because I deserve to write something completely fun and one-off!

If you haven’t read the books below, now’s your time to peruse, and I’m including an excerpt from one of them so you can sample some of the fun. Several of them are menage stories, so if that’s your thing, be sure to check them out!

Contest

For a chance to win your choice of one of the books below,
tell me your weekend plans!

Click on any cover to learn more about the story!

Excerpt from Handy Men…

The impulse came like a flash of lightning—hot and searing—all the way to the bone. An idea born of a need she hadn’t felt in a long, long time…and inspired by one red-hot handyman in butt-hugging jeans and a snug T-shirt.

The man fired the militant gleam in her eyes as she brushed bronzing powder across her cheeks and swiped carmine “eat me” red lip stain across her mouth.

She didn’t give herself time to rethink the decision, reaching for the phone before her usual, cautious self reasserted control. No more couch potato cry-ins for her. No more self-imposed exclusion while she figured out what to do with the rest of her life. Today, a new Pamela Dwyer was reaching for the goddamn gusto.

The anger felt good. Especially after the shock she’d received moments ago when she’d surfed the internet for the latest gossip about her ex.

One glance at Andrew’s Facebook page, and Pamela’s confusion over what the hell had happened to her life dried up. He’d blocked her from his page, but his profile picture had been changed from Andrew’s handsome, craggy face to the soft innocence of his newborn son’s.

The picture said it all. And no doubt every one of their friends here in Austin, who’d rallied around her when he’d left, would now pour out their congratulations to him, while privately agreeing he’d done the only thing he could do to be happy.

Tears had stung her eyes, but she’d refused to let them fall. Instead, she’d blinked them away, closed out the screen and glanced through the blinds at her immaculate lawn. The perfect lawn and landscaping to surround the perfectly appointed house she’d won in the divorce settlement.

But back to that lightning strike…

Across the street, a man had stood atop a ladder while he fished leaves from old Mr. Johnson’s gutters. It wasn’t the fact the old man had spent money to hire someone to do odd jobs around his place that caught her attention, although that was plenty unusual all by itself. It was the way the sunlight glinted on the younger man’s hair. Glints of gold she could see from over thirty feet away. And once her attention was snagged by that halo-like glow, her gaze couldn’t help but trail down the long, lean, buff lines of his healthy frame.

From the back, the man was perfection. Then he’d turned to the side, no doubt to say something to Mr. Johnson who hovered at the bottom of the ladder. The old skinflint would supervise the handyman to make sure he got every nickel’s worth of his money. However, not a hint of irritation showed in the handyman’s expression. His smile had been quick—a flash of white teeth against a tanned face.

Pamela had breathed deeply, enjoying the surge of heat flowing through her veins. So much better than the cold, hollow feeling in her womb. Arousal had bloomed, fresh and unexpected, washing over her, lapping away the disappointment. Leaving her…expectant. Feeling younger than her thirty-eight years.
There were times in a woman’s life when she had to grab the bull by the horns or she’d never taste passion again. Pamela decided then and there that her time was now.

Twenty minutes later, the doorbell chimed.

Christ, do I really have the guts? She’d had twenty minutes to get icy cold feet.

She held her hand in front of her face and blew against her palm then sniffed. Mouthwash still works.

Before opening her door, Pamela bent over, shook her head then straightened, giving her straight blonde hair an extra fluff. She pasted on a smile—not too wide or eager—one she’d practiced in front of the bathroom mirror to make sure it reflected just the right amount of casual interest. She didn’t want to scare him away. At least not before she had a chance to practice being a femme fatale.

However, after opening the door, her smile faltered just a bit. Up close, the repairman was more of a rangy lion than a bull, and even more attractive than her secretive glances through the blinds had revealed. Thickly muscled arms and a broad chest stretching a green Handy Men tee filled her vision.

Maybe she should have targeted someone more in her league—and at least fifteen years older. However, when she’d seen him working on the rain gutters of her neighbor’s house and watched the way he moved gracefully up and down the ladder, a plan had begun to form. One she was too invested in to back out of now.

“Your neighbor said you were havin’ trouble with a garbage disposal?”

Good Lord, his voice was deep and sinful. Her greedy glance shot up to meet his, and she noted the crinkles of amusement at the sides of his eyes. Blue eyes with golden coronas around the pupils. Yum.

Realizing her mouth hung open, she snapped her jaw closed. “Uh, yes. Trouble with the disposal. That’s why you’re here.”

It was the truth, so she didn’t stutter over it. However, she didn’t mention she’d thrown a handful of screws into the sink to make sure the old disposal seized. Her plan to lure him into her house was working like a charm. She wished her ex could see her now. Plain Pam, reliable Pam, boring, defective Pam had a few tricks left.

“I’m Jeff McCaffrey,” he said, and held out his hand.

Blowing out a little breath to release her tension, she gave him her hand and shook. “Pamela,” she said quickly.

His palms were callused and large. She slid her hand slowly from his, enjoying the scrape. Even if things didn’t work out, she’d have plenty of sensory details to savor later to go along with the lovely picture he made.

“Um…” He lifted the toolbox with a flex of impressive biceps and raised his eyebrows.

It took a second to register that he needed her to move away from the door. Feeling flustered, she stood back and waved him inside. She closed the door behind him and followed eagerly on his heels into the hallway.

He halted abruptly.

Unable to stop her forward momentum, Pamela held out her hands to brace herself—and cupped his ass.

His head swiveled to glance back at her, a slight, dazed smile curving his mouth.

She paused a second too long before removing them, but it was his own damn fault. His ass was too much temptation for her to resist a little squeeze. “Sorry about that,” she muttered, palms and face burning. Lord, she was thirty-eight, and he had her blushing like a teenager. Her flirting skills were woefully rusty.

He cleared his throat and pointed toward the door on the left. “The kitchen?”

“Yeah,” she said, sounding a little winded, but her fingers tingled and her skin felt on fire. She hadn’t wanted to come on to the younger man like a cougar in heat, but he was fine-fine-fine.

He swung open the door and walked to the counter, where he set his toolbox beside the sink. “What sort of noises was it makin’?”

“Crunchy?”

“Crunchy?” His lips twitched.

She shrugged. He was the “Mr. Fix-It”. He’d figure out soon enough what the problem was. Maybe he’d think the screws in the disposal had gotten there by accident.

He reached beneath the cabinet next to the sink and flipped the switch.

Metallic grating made her wince. The poor thing ground worse than her ex’s teeth.

Without looking back, he said, “Don’t touch the switch. I don’t have my tongs, so I’m gonna stick my hand down there to see what’s happenin’.”

In his hand went, and he turned slightly to the side, his gaze meeting hers while a frown drew his honey-brown brows together. When he pulled free, he held a screw. “Wonder how that happened?” he drawled.

She grinned brightly. “Serendipity?”

“Wha—?”

So maybe not a brain surgeon, or even much of a reader, but the calculated stare he returned told her he wasn’t stupid. He pulled out another and laid it on the countertop, and then another. “Somethin’ you wanna tell me, Pamela?”

This is a busy post, but hang in there!

Contests still open!

So, yes, I have a new contest for you today, but I thought you might like a reminder that there are still more prizes to be won! Go enter today!

1. Reina Torres: Silver Foxes aren’t my Spirit Animals… I crave them! (Contest) — Ends this weekend! Win a FREE book! Closed!
2. A Puzzle & a Prize! (Contest) — Last day to enter! Win an Amazon gift card! Closed!
3. Scavenger Hunt (Contest) — Win an Amazon gift card!

Real Life

I’ve had a bad cough since right before Halloween. I’ve had laryngitis for the last ten days. I still have to shout-whisper to be heard. And now, I have pleurisy and my ribs ache like I was kicked by a mule. But I am getting better. I’m not sleeping all day like I was. I’m not coughing quite as much, and it is breaking up.

As if that’s not enough to deal with, I noticed that my mother looked like a Simpson. Her skin tone turned a bright yellow overnight, it seemed. My dd took her to the emergency room, and they transported her to the big city hospital in Little Rock yesterday. My aunt is camped out in her room there. My dd placed her oldest girl in our house to help me out while mom is gone, and we’re all trying to get ready for company that is descending this week for Thanksgiving.

Do you think we’re a little stressed out?

As for writing, there hasn’t been any of that this month. It’s hard to be creative when you feel like hell. I have been editing, so I haven’t been a complete bum. 🙂

And that’s where I’m at. I hope you all are doing better than the Devlins are at the moment!

One cool thing. Just when I was feeling my worst, I received a package from my author-friend, Diana Cosby! She sent me not one, but two lovely mugs! I’ve been drinking honeyed tea from them! Aren’t they pretty? Thank you so much, Diana!

Flashback: Bound & Determined (Contest–2 Winners!)

Comment on this post to win your choice of one of the books in the Texas Cowboys series! This series is a very sexy set of stories set in a small town in Texas, where cowboys and lawmen are “bound & determined” to win their ladies any way they can!

When Tara Toomey hosts the annual cowboy auction in her bar, she’s in the mood to serve bad boy Cody Westhofen more than a drink when she raises her bidding paddle. She’s done with his freewheeling ways. It’s time for the sexy cowboy to man up or get the hell out of her life. What better way to capture his attention and show him she’s serious than to kidnap him for a wanton weekend?

Tied to Tara’s bed, Cody is more than willing to cooperate. Until he found himself cuffed to her bed, he didn’t know how desperate she was to show him how much she cares.

It’s going to be a long, hot weekend…

Read an excerpt here!

Here are all the stories in the Texas Cowboy series!

Click on the covers to learn more!

No doubt we all remember our ‘first time’, the night or day or whatever when we lost our virginity, but what about when we first became aware of ourselves as sexual creatures? I’m not sure why that question recently occurred to me, but I have the answer.

I was a pre-adolescent, playing with my collection of plastic horses, cowboys, and Indians (yes, I’m that old) pretending my plastic human had caught a wild horse and was trying out various ways to restrain the horse. I tied up a leg, roped two legs together, placed a rope around its neck and tied the poor creature to a plastic section of fence. As I studied the mare or stud I became aware of a tingling sensation between my legs. After looking around to make sure no one was watching, I started rubbing myself there. The tingling increased, became more and more pleasurable. For as long as I remained interested in plastic horses and humans, I continued to encourage the feelings I didn’t understand. Of course I explored other ways of arousing the sensations, but ropes often factored in.

Fast forward about a million years and capture/bondage fantasies still turn me on. I’ve written other kinds of erotica but the majority revolve around some kind of restraint. My publisher Stormy Nights specializes in spanking stories. Even though spanking as a turn on puzzles me somewhat, I’m having a great time using that umbrella to engage my characters in sexual worlds. My heroines find themselves restrained while my heroes focus on enhancing the experience. Equality be damned in this fictional world. It’s all about power vs. helplessness.

I took that dynamic with me while writing my latest release Mastering His Pet. Here’s part of the first spanking scene. To explain, Tanner is a powerful Elite in a world I call The Society while Carra is a lowly Other. No question who’s in charge…

Mastering His Pet

“You want to run,” he said. “You’re like a wild animal that has spotted a trap and is trying to decide what to do.”

He hadn’t asked a question, which she took as proof he knew her much better than he should have. She had to be careful around him, not reveal too much, not show weakness.

But how?

“Maybe you’re wondering whether you can outrun me so I’ll answer. Despite my size, I’m fast on my feet.” He paused. “Call it one more weapon in my survival arsenal. If you let instinct get the best of you, I’ll overtake you. Once I catch you things will get even worse than they’re about to become. For one, I’ll make sure you stay where I decide you belong.”

He was still making statements, maybe not interested in hearing anything from her. Feeling as if she’d fallen into a place and space she hadn’t known existed, she kept her attention locked on him.

“I will correct your behavior. Make sure you never forget this vital lesson.”

It took everything she had in her not to assure him she understood, but she didn’t dare completely give into him. If she did he might take everything from her.

“Unfasten your shorts. Pull them down to your knees. Do the same to your panties, if you’re wearing any.”

“I am.” What did he think? That she dressed so she was always ready to fuck? She’d heard enough about military life to know some women hung around the troops. Most were whores looking to make enough to keep themselves fed, clothed, and sheltered. Her understanding was they made more money with their legs spread than they could otherwise.

Nothing could ever make her do that. Could it?

With a start she realized she’d let her mind drift. Somewhere between embarrassment and curiosity, she did as he’d ordered. She was going to be spanked, no way out of it.

Feeling if she’d separated from her body, she straightened. Her sleeveless top was so long it reached her navel, not that she could take comfort in the pitiful protection. She’d exposed her belly, pelvis area, and upper legs. Mostly her bare ass was there, ready for his hand.

“You should have worn long pants. You’ve got scratches, red marks, and indentations on your knees and shins from kneeling on the roof. Not a smart move on your part.”

He leaned back with his arms crossed, looking slightly bored. Maybe he’d spanked so many women he saw the task as nothing more than a chore. In contrast, she couldn’t think beyond the next few minutes.

“You know what you’re supposed to do. Get into place.”

She was just out of his reach, which meant she still had time to bolt, to—no, she couldn’t. Not sure what she was feeling, she positioned herself close to his legs and carefully lowered herself onto his lap. Her bare skin touched a single layer of denim, trapping heat between them. Her belly rested on thighs that felt as if they’d been carved from stone. Most concerning, the sensitive area between her belly and legs pressed against him. It felt good. Wonderful in fact.

Dizzy from having her head low, she ran her fingers over the rough ground. She closed her eyes, held her breath. This wasn’t happening but it was.

“You don’t have any marks here,” he said, his fingers light on her ass. “Considering your behavior, my cousins never corrected you?”

“No.” Her voice was muffled.

“You better not be lying. It’ll only get worse if you are.”

He’d threatened her. She should take it to heart, but how could she when his hand now rested on her backside as if he had every right, which he did.

“I’m telling you the truth.”

“I’ll make that determination. You have an exquisite ass.” He rubbed it. Her head spun and her pussy tightened and twitched. “Knowing my cousins as I do, I’m well-aware of their mindset where women are concerned. Don’t try to tell me you don’t know what I’m talking about.”

“I do.”

“That isn’t enough.” The pressure increased, not painful but impossible to ignore. Arousing. “Tell me, in detail, what takes place during their parties in the rooms without windows and with sound-deadening capabilities.”

“I’ve never been part of it.”

“They’ve never required your presence?”

“No.”

“If that’s the truth it constitutes a serious lack of judgment on their parts. An ass as delectable as this one should be put to use.”

“I’m more than an ass! You have no right saying—”

“Whether I do or don’t isn’t the issue. Might always wins.”

She was still processing his declaration when he slapped her. She jerked. A second blow immediately followed the first. Eyes squeezed closed, she tried to ready herself. Instead of continuing, he left her draped over him. He wasn’t done. She was sure of it.

“Do it!” She clamped a hand over her mouth then let her arm dangle again. What did staying quiet matter? She’d already angered him. “Get it over with.”

“All in good time, or should I say in my time. One way or the other you’re going to learn who is in charge.”

You are. If at all possible she’d keep from admitting that.

Her ass stung from the two sharp blows, the sensation sliding throughout her backside and going deep. She opened her eyes in an attempt to stop thinking about her pussy’s reaction. Weeds covered nearly every inch of the dirt she was looking at.

“Your life’s important.” He struck her a third time, this blow even more intense. “I will not have you treating it lightly. Being careless. If I have to keep you under control to keep you alive I’ll do it.”

“Under control?”

He closed his hands around her neck. “Restrained. Collared.”

Did you read my mind? “You wouldn’t.”

*~*~*

Kindle: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07VJ97TS7/ref
Nook: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/mastering-his-pet-vonna-harper/1132617789?
Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/mastering-his-pet?

About the Author

What a ride my imagination has taken me on!

Freud, if he hadn’t been so hung up on his belief that only damaged people fantasize, might have tried to understand dom/submissive dynamics. Looks like he left that up to me and other like-minded writers. My most recent releases, Mastering His Pet, Predator’s Pet, His Purchase and His Filly are all spanking stories, but my erotica has covered everything from spanking to shape-shifting, from primitive tribes to science fiction. I honestly don’t know how many sexy stories I’ve had published. It’d probably scare me if I tried to count them. I also write tamer stuff under another name and try to keep the two far, far apart. My free time is spent as a servant to two rescue dogs, hanging out with family and mostly writer friends, and, sadly, selling the family’s mountain cabin. The less I say about this year’s garden the better.

Vonna
www.VonnaHarper.com
https://www.amazon.com/Vonna-Harper/e/B00JAMWDCC/ref=dp_byline_cont_pop_ebooks_1
VonnaWriter@gmail.com

Not long ago, a Facebook post popped up on my timeline from an author asking other authors what they believed was their best talent in writing. Some replied, they were unsure. A few were very specific. I sat with fingers poised over the keyboard. Then I curled them to my hands, and my hands slunk away from the laptop like the Wicked Witch of the East under Dorothy’s house.

I needed to ponder the question before answering. Was I good at anything? The author’s doubt began to compress around throat. I shouldn’t even answer this. I had nothing to say.

In my other life, I’m a sports reporter, and I will say I’m good at my job. I’ve won awards and even had racing legend A.J. Foyt ask for more copies of a story I’d written about him.

Fiction writing, however, is a completely different animal—even the punctuation. All you need to do is ask my editors about my comma problem. On a side note, news stories are written in A.P. Style and punctuation is often at a minimum.

I can tell a story in fifteen hundred words or less, but readers are paying for and usually want more words for their investment.

What was so important about me answering this Facebook post? Well, by forcing myself to answer, I was giving myself a little legitimacy. So, I thought over the books I’ve released, and the ones I’m currently writing, and I began to form an opinion of what aspect of writing I believe I write well.

Male point of view.

I have a comma problem. I’m way too fond of adverbs. “Just” is my absolute favorite word of all, but I can get inside a man’s head.

More than a few times, I’ve read or judged a book where I finished the man’s side of the story and ended with my own “said no man ever.” On the flip side, I can tell usually tell when a male has written a female point of view.

I come by this talent honestly.

Because of the age difference between me and my sister, my playmates growing up were the four boys who lived next door who ranged in age from two years older than me to one year younger. Every minute of our free time was spent together.

I sat in the back of the bus and threatened to beat anyone up who made fun of Paul as he sat crying because Dena Bowman had broken up with him in the sixth grade. I went to high school girlfriends and told them they needed to stop trying to keep my boys next door from talking with me. I’d been around way before them; would be around way after them and had no interest in being my boys’ girlfriend as I had my own boyfriend.

In high school, I was still their shoulder to cry on when those girls moved to another guy.

I learned how boys see their parents’ marriage and how they dealt with the divorce.

As I began my career, I learned better ways to cuss and honed my inner smart ass skills. My husband says I have far surpassed his own skills.

In reality, I’ve learned men have their own vulnerabilities and insecurities, but they express them differently than women. Men express themselves in other manners than women in most things, and that’s not a bad thing, nor a wrong thing. It’s just dissimilar.

That’s not to say I don’t shake my head at times, but I understand the roots of the source.

I have great girlfriends, but I prefer to work with men. I’ve worked in a male dominated career my whole life, and I’m comfortable there.

Now, that I’m writing romance, I fully embrace my experience because my talent evolved from my situation.

I can write a male point of view and have discovered I enjoy writing my male characters more than my females. It’s like the girls are along for the ride, but the guys are more fun for me.

For me, the men are easy. The women are soooo hard. I’ll work on my women, but first I have this idea for a guy, and he’s so great.

I write both contemporary and erotic romance. I’m currently finishing the final book of the Love Strictly Test Trilogy, and Jordan’s Trials from the Wild Rose Press will be out in 2020.

Angel’s Collar: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07DYZXR9C
Sabrina’s Seduction: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07RLKRZ4Y
The Heart Series:
Captured Hearts: Only $.99 on Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Captured-Hearts-Unimaginable-Choices-Undeniable-ebook/dp/B01N531PT4
Missing Hearts: https://www.amazon.com/Missing-Hearts-Heart-Book-2-ebook/dp/B07FYTH5G4
Stolen Hearts: https://www.amazon.com/Stolen-Hearts-Heart-Book-3-ebook/dp/B07RNM8R2W
Contact me at: www.annahague.com