The concept for Stormy Wedding was simple. Ellora’s Cave put a shout out about their new Branded line of erotic stories. Branded is a series of erotic tales set within the confines of a marriage.
One of my pet peeves about romance is that the story ends when the marriage begins. And that is where I began my story…at the end…with the wedding. My first-ever erotic story starts at the rehearsal dinner of a wedding and ends in bed. In between dinner and bed, a storm rages outside the wedding venue while a tempest of passion erupts inside.
Why Branded? According to my handy dandy dictionary, branded means (1) a mark burned with a hot iron, as upon cattle, to show ownership. Ouch! And may I say, double ouch. And not the image I want to portray. (2) A trade-mark to show quality or kind. I like that better. (3) To impress deeply upon mind or memory. I like that best. But I do still hear the sizzle of that hot iron, which isn’t all bad.
What do you think? Does the romance and passion end when the vows are said? Feel free to tell me about your wedding, your wedding disaster or your dream wedding. Leave me a comment and email address and I’ll put you in a drawing for a free e-copy of Stormy Wedding or a deck or Ellora’s Cave playing cards. And don’t forget to check out the other Branded titles at Ellora’s Cave. To read an excerpt pop over to my blog: www.kelliscottbooks.blogspot.com
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Today’s the last day of the Dark Fairy contest! Post a comment today to win!
The Dark Fairy contest continues! See Monday’s blog for details, then post a comment today!
Fly on the Wall…yes or no?
by Elle James
If you could be somewhere in spirit, but not body, or if you could be so tiny no one would notice you, like say a fly on the wall in a room full of people, would you do it?
So many times I’ve wanted to be a fly on the wall, a voyeur in my children’s lives, to see how they interact with others or to live vicariously through the fun activities they get involved in. Then again, to see them make the same mistakes and the social guffaws I made at their ages only makes me glad I’m not a fly on the wall in their lives.
But if I could be a ghost, floating in an out of rooms, seeing things without being seen, would I want that ability? Maybe not. What good would it do? If I saw a tragedy about to happen and I could do nothing to warn the people, I’d feel a lot worse than not having been there at all. But then again, if my body was out of commission, I’d like to be able to get around without it…Hmmm…bears considering.
The book I released last week HAUNTED is about a woman who is in a coma, but her spirit is free to roam. It has a similar concept to the movies JUST LIKE HEAVEN and GHOST DAD, with a different storyline. I wanted to write a mystery about a car crash that took two lives and almost a third. The victim who “isn’t quite dead” gets to help solve the mystery of who was responsible for the crash. Needless to say, the ghost character had many frustrating moments when she was powerless to help those who needed it most.
What about you? If you were in a coma, would you want your spirit to roam while your body lies in a vegetative state?
About the Author:
Elle James spent twenty years livin’ and lovin’ in South Texas, ranching horses, cattle, goats, ostriches and emus. A former IT professional, Elle is proud to be writing full-time, penning intrigues and paranormal adventures that keep her readers on the edge of their seats. Now living in northwest Arkansas, she isn’t wrangling cattle, she’s wrangling her muses, a malti-poo and yorkie. When she’s not at her computer, she’s traveling, out snow-skiing, boating, or riding her ATV, dreaming up new stories.
You can reach Elle James at www.ellejames.com or email her at ellejames@earthlink.net.
The Dark Fairy contest continues. See Monday’s blog for details—then post a comment today for another chance to win!
On Friday, my husband and I will be celebrating our thirty-third anniversary. I always kid him that he owes me TWO presents since we renewed our vows on our fifteenth wedding anniversary 😉 The last thirty three years haven’t been easy—we’ve had our share of spats, generally because of outside pressures that make us snap at each other because we can’t say what we’re thinking to the person who really deserves it. But through it all, I’ve always known Gizmo Guy would be there, a sounding board, someone I could turn to in those dark wee hours and unload all my worries.
I noticed that about him from our very first date—that he’d listen to what I say and not fob it off as unimportant or worse, me being overly-emotional or ridiculous. I’d say something, he’d listen and comment in his usual soft thoughtful way. No judgment, just quiet reason. Which he would then often follow it up with a very sly joke. He still does, and I hope that he knows that I’ll always listen to him too. (Actually, he does know that—but it took him about four months to figure that out because I can be rather…passionate…about topics but I’ll always respect someone else’s opinion.) Even before we were lovers, we were friends. He’s still my best friend even after all these years.
It wasn’t until I started writing this post that I realized all of my stories are about friends-to-lovers. They weren’t necessarily best friends at the start of the story, but every single one of my couples have known each other for a while before they start dating. There’s already a certain amount of trust established, and often a fair bit of carefully hidden lust.
It’s true with my upcoming release, Deliberate Deceptions too, but this time I switched things up. Chad and Lauren had not only been best friends, they’d been married for several years. Except they lost the trust that is so essential to a good relationship which doomed their marriage—and their friendship.
When I wrote Personal Protection back in 2008, I already had it in the back of my head that Chad was divorced and that he regretted it, that he’d never stopped loving his wife (I’ve cleaned it up a bit and removed some of the F-bombs they dropped during this conversation):
When Sam flipped him off, Chad sighed. “You’re exhausted because you’ve been staying here late every night for the past week. Go home, Sam. Go talk to Rosie. Straighten this mess out before you lose her completely. Before she comes and asks me for a transfer because damn it, Sam, that’s going to happen too fricking soon.”
“This from the man who let his wife slip through his fingers because he was too frickin’ busy feeling sorry for himself to pay any attention to her.”
Chad stiffened. When he spoke his voice was quiet, but he couldn’t disguise the bitterness filling it. “Who better to give advice? Yes, I messed up a good thing with Lauren. I was too blinded by everything that happened to see that I was driving her away. That’s why I hate to see you make the same stupid mistake.”
But when I wrote it I hadn’t a clue why he’d been feeling sorry for himself that he’d let his marriage shatter, I just knew he was still hurting and blaming himself for the break-up. Which meant that I also knew that part of his story was going to be about him healing that self-loathing. There’s a lot of Gizmo Guy in Chad—he’s one of those quietly determined guys who knows what he wants and goes after it without a lot of fanfare. (Although I wish Gizmo Guy were as organized as Chad is, I’m glad he’s not when you discover the reason for Chad’s slight OCD tendencies.)
Writing Chad’s story was a challenge because how do you go about restoring a trust that’s been broken so badly your marriage hasn’t just failed but failed spectacularly, and in Chad and Lauren’s case, failed very publicly? If figuring out what made Chad feel sorry for himself was one key, then the mysterious Lauren was the other. Read the rest of this entry »
The Promo Whore and Queen of the Kitchen contests continue. Read yesterday’s post for details! ~DD
The Ol’ Kabong of Life
By Carol A Strickland
Golden Corral used to run a commercial in which a tiny chef-fairy would KABONNNNGGG!! people on the back of their heads with a huge, cast-iron skillet. This reminded them that they needed to partake of a meal at said restaurant. The commercial made me wonder if only those with brain injuries would want to eat there.
I experienced my own kabong, but it was a more spiritual if just as deeply vibratory experience. You see, I hit Mid-Life.
KABONNNNGGG!!
People joke about Mid-Life Crises. Oh, isn’t it so silly when men have to have their red convertibles and mature women start to dress like teenagers in an effort to regain their youth? They’re nuts!
Yeah, it’s a laughing matter until it happens to you.
Well before my own crisis I’d taken courses at a psychic school—the kind where the classroom was in the house’s basement next to the water heater, and the teacher assumed we could all detect the cosmic energies she spoke of. There we learned that Mid-Life Crisis occurs around age 42, give or take a year or two.
At that age, the planet Uranus (pronounced: “YOUR-uh-nus,” not the “I’ve got a joke for you!” way) (my college professor explained that very carefully on our first day of astronomy class) has managed to half-complete an orbit so it stands opposite from where it was when you were born.
Uranus has to do with your life mission, what you were put on Earth to accomplish. When the planet faces its original position, it challenges your birth energy and reminds you of what is truly important. How does it do this?
With a big ol’ cast iron skillet, administered to the base of your fortyish skull.
KABONNNNGGG!!
How did it affect me? First of all, I had one of the most vivid dreams I’d ever had, full of my favorite sexy superheroes, Capt. Picard and his Enterprise, and me saving the day by being your basic Mary Sue-type character.
That darned dream stuck. I’d go to work and be almost unable to function because I couldn’t get it out of my head.
Finally, I said the heck with it, recalled that back in elementary school and college I’d written some fanfic, sat down with my (don’t laugh) used Mac IIcx, and wrote a book.
Quickly enough I decided that this would be something that I might want to publish. Bye-bye, Capt. Picard. I rearranged my superheroes so they weren’t the actual ones who appeared in the comics. (I always felt I could improve those guys anyway.) And most of all, I tried my darnedest to get rid of the Mary Sue aspects of my lead character, bless her too-perfect heart.
But Mid-Life Crisis affected me in other ways. I wanted to write more than this one book. I wanted to move. I wanted to change my name. One long week when I had writer’s block an overwhelming urge hit me to paint a big patch of blue instead.
Ransacking the back of my closets, I discovered my old college art supplies (art major here), dragged out a canvas, and by gosh, painted it flat blue.
Whew. Amazingly, I could write again. But now I also wanted to renew my interest in painting.
If Mid-Life hasn’t happened to you yet, it will. Don’t even try to fight it. You will be kabonged and you’ll never see it coming. It’ll be time to sit down and reassess your direction in life. What’s really important for you to do? What interests have you been ignoring that shouldn’t be ignored?
As for me, I finished the book. It was about 1500 pages long, and holy moly, it was a romance! I didn’t know anything about romance novels, so I joined Romance Writers of America. The book was split and reconstructed into five novels. The first volume, Touch of Danger (in which a psychic healer with a phobia meets the world’s sexiest but much-too-strong superhero), was published by Ellora’s Cave Blush. The second volume, Star-Crossed, will be out in a week or two (add three weeks if you try to find it on Amazon), and plans are to get the third volume out before the end of the year.
I now have an art business that is beginning to attract attention. That name change I wanted? Oy. That’s an entire column unto itself, so let’s just summarize and say that my non-legal new name was actually a much better name for the now non-Mary Sue character, so I gave it to her.
I did indeed move to the next town over. And it is true enough: every now and then I visit the Golden Corral. But I try to do it before that chef-fairy can brain me!
Who else here has been kabonged? What did you change in your life? Or did you stay the same? (Or do you know some folks who did pretty goofy things when they hit mid-life?) And who here is old enough to recognize the cartoon character who heads this column? There was so much kabonging that he decided to join the party.
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Carol A. Strickland is a writer, artist and Wonder Woman expert. You can visit her website www.CarolAStrickland.com to learn about her books, artwork, and more than you’d ever want to know about the Amazing Amazon. There you will find book excerpts (page link: https://www.carolastrickland.com/fiction/index.html ) and even a contest where you could win a free DVD! Her fantasy romance, Touch of Danger, and the historical romance, Burgundy and Lies, are available online in both e- and print form. Star-Crossed will be out soon.
Story inspiration can strike in the strangest places. The other day at the nail salon, I saw a young Asian woman with the most gorgeous long black hair. I mean the kind of hair only seen in commercials. Almost blue-black, high shine, and down to her hips, her beautiful tresses tempted my poor fingers to reach out and touch. Just to see if her hair felt as sexy as it looked.
I couldn’t get the idea of the unbelievable beauty of her hair out of my mind. So of course, a story started forming.
Like a song you can’t banish from your mind, sometimes a flash of inspiration refuses to leave you alone. While the story isn’t complete, the basic set up is in my list of stories to write. Definitely another lesbian vampire story. *cackle*
Songs or music videos are another great inspiration for my stories. A Familiar Taste of Poison by Halestorm hit me several ways. First the title. I wish I’d thought of that one! Then there’s the lyrics—
I breathe you in again
Just to feel you underneath my skin
Holding onto the sweet escape
Is always laced with a familiar taste of poison
Finally, there’s the video. I mean…just wow. Fabulous visuals. Great film noir look and feel. An entire murder mystery in four minutes.
A lot of Halestorm’s lyrics strike a chord with me. No pun intended. I think I could write an entire series inspired by their music.
Friends are another source of inspiration, especially if they are also writers. I don’t mean writing about their lives. Although Delilah’s life would make for a very interesting book. *wink*
Brainstorming can start with a single word or a simple premise. Back and forth banter blossoms into stories. Delilah is one of the best at brainstorming. She’s pulled me out of several plot holes.
Then there’s the random stray thought, like the one that inspired my latest story, Consensual Infidelity.
What would you do if you found out your boyfriend were bisexual?
Would you run away as fast as your feet could carry you? Accept it but agree that part of his sexuality should stay hidden? Or would you actively pursue his fantasy of being with a man—then join in?
You can probably guess what Denise Wilder did in Consensual Infidelity. And boy, do they have fun!
Sometimes, a great story comes out of a combination of all of the above. For instance, a bisexual Asian woman murdered in the early 20th century who is resurrected as a vampire. Now I need a little help from my friends to fill in the plot holes! *grins*
Thanks, Delilah, for letting me ramble on about inspiration!
The big book expo was yesterday. Had a great time. I loved chatting with the folks who brought their dog-eared copies of my books, their Kindle covers, and their bookplates for me to sign. It made the whole week worthwhile. I’m flying back to Arkansas today, so I’ll be right back here tomorrow! In the meantime, give a warm welcome to Cathryn! ~DD
Aloha from Hawaii. My husband and I are vacationing on the Big Island—the one with the active volcano. Sadly for my dreams of watching molten lava flow into the turqouise sea, Kilauea is currently…not active.
However, today we drove up from the sunny, warm seashore high into the cool, misty clouds of Hawaii Volcanoes National Park. With other tourists from all over the world, we viewed the huge caldera, with sulphurous steam venting from a crater and from the ground all around the park observatory.
We drove down from the 4,000 foot summit to the wind-whipped south-east shore of Hawaii, where just last month, pahoehoe lava flowed down and hardened into black sheets like so much icing, covering mountainsides, verdant forests and even highways before it cascaded into the sea.
It happened. I was not there to see it. But, through the magic of video, maps, diagrams and dioramas that the Park Service does so very well, I was still able to experience the thrill. And I learned about the history of Hawaii, both geologic and how the people who settled here wove the volcanoes into their folklore and religion. The goddess Pele watches over her islands with a loving, jealous heart.
And, sigh…I suppose it’s safer this way. There are only so many roads on this gorgeous island, and I feel for the people who have lost their homes to the fury of Pele’s fire. So, if she chooses to stay her hand, I’ll enjoy the grandeur of her handiwork safely cooled.
And hang out at the beach. Snorkeling tomorrow! I have a date with a handsome husband, lots of tropical fishes and a turtle or two, out on the reef.
Posting from LA! I skipped the Fairy Ball last night. Allergies were driving me nuts (sneezing, wheezing), so I went to bed early. 🙁 Had a good day though. Met with my agent. Sat on a panel with the awesome, L.A. Banks, Kim Kaye Terry, Glenda Wood from Harlequin and J.D. Mason. The panel went very well! I attended the EC luncheon, popped in briefly to the late afternoon Samhain party, but again, I was tired and coughing, so I ducked out and hung with Vivi Anna and Kim (she injured her knee dancing, so needed the company!). That’s the best about conferences—cementing friendships. ~DD
Cougars…really?
Thanks to Delilah for having me here today!
My topic today is one I’ve done before but still fascinates me. Cougars. Why is a woman of a certain age (and that age is getting younger and younger—I’m thirty-five and I’d bet in some circles I would qualify) who’s interested in a younger man worthy of a derogatory title? Do older men get named for dating younger women? No, because that’s considered the usual way of things.
Women who take charge of their lives and their sexuality and go after what they want—whether it’s a younger man or a career or staying home with their kids—have earned my respect. I have a good friend who’s engaged to someone younger and she’s a beautiful, sweet woman. He’s lucky to have her! I think to insinuate that women dating younger guys is all about sex isn’t true. Just like people can have friends of any age, love blooms between all different age groups. And that’s the way it should be.
Even if it’s not about love, who cares? I say have fun. Go for it. What’s been good for the guys since the beginning of time is definitely good for us ladies.
I’m writing two very different so-called “cougar” stories right now and I’ve written one before, Full Disclosure. One of the reasons I love writing them is that I like an age range in my heroines and unfortunately, unless you’re writing women’s fiction, heroines above 35 don’t seem prevalent unless they’re with a younger guy.
I like writing about older women. They’ve usually got a better handle on what they want in their careers and sexually too. But they have a whole new set of vulnerabilities to explore.
What about you? Do you dislike the term “cougar”? Do you enjoy books featuring older heroines?
Visit Cari Quinn at www.cariquinn.com or at her blog: Cari’s Blog
The concept for Stormy Wedding was simple. Ellora’s Cave put a shout out about their new Branded line of erotic stories. Branded is a series of erotic tales set within the confines of a marriage. 
Today’s the last day of the Dark Fairy contest! Post a comment today to win! 
Golden Corral used to run a commercial in which a tiny chef-fairy would KABONNNNGGG!! people on the back of their heads with a huge, cast-iron skillet. This reminded them that they needed to partake of a meal at said restaurant. The commercial made me wonder if only those with brain injuries would want to eat there.
