I blame Delilah.

Don’t get me wrong… she hasn’t committed any crimes (that I know of 😉 or done anything bad. It’s simply the fact that I’ve grown to reeeeeaaaally love the reading and writing of short stories. And it’s all her fault.

For those who may not know, Delilah graciously organizes an annual short story anthology, the Boys Behaving Badly series, each year with a theme. Each anthology boasts stories written by a diverse array of authors, covering the theme with an imaginative range of story ideas that are all panty-meltingly hawt.

A satisfying relationship, happy-ending, and a money-shot all in the time it takes me to eat lunch? Yes, please!

So, one year, I decided to submit a story. As a Sci-fi Romance author, I was accustomed to writing books of over 95,000 words. Imagine having to shoe-horn world-building, species-building, character-building, and a creative love story (with sex!) into only 5,000 words. That’s like moving all of Buckingham Palace into a one-bedroom apartment.

That’s what we writers consider one helluva writing exercise.

It certainly worked writing muscles I didn’t know I had. And the post-workout soreness is as much a reality for writing as it is for physical exercise. But I kept going. Honing, editing, questioning every single word choice for maximum impact and efficiency, streamlining character development to its most essential… and my story was accepted!

The experience was such a challenge, with what I felt were lasting benefits to my own full-book skills, that I continued to submit to Delilah’s anthologies. Four anthologies later, and I’m addicted. While I still love writing full-length stories, I also love writing short stories. Please don’t ask me which I prefer to write, because that’s like having to choose between my own children. I love them equally, although I might like one better than the other at times.

I now love writing short stories so much, I just published my own bundle of short stories. Fathoms Below is my trilogy of mermaid-y short stories filled with Disney easter eggs and drenched with romance. Each story is a self-contained love story, and I thoroughly enjoyed getting to my characters’ HEA within 18,000 words rather than waiting for 35,000 words, or more!

And I “blame” Delilah for that. 🙂

Contest

I’ll gift a Kindle version of Fathoms Below to a randomly-chosen winner from everyone who comments on this post. Feel free to weigh in on your preference: full book or short story?

FATHOMS BELOW

Under the sea, Atlantia’s mer-creatures are devoting full time to floating… and falling in love.

“Better Where it’s Wetter” — Ariel LaRue assumes the sexy merman pictured on the lake house is “just art.” Then a violent storm topples her into his arms, and she discovers the ocean isn’t the only thing that gets her wet.

“Kiss the Girl” — Mako, a young Sharkanian General, knows there’s more to life under the sea than hunting for food and waging war with the Atlantians. But he struggles against his own predatory nature until a gentle mermaid calms the savage hunger of his heart and tames his sharp bite.

“Poor Unfortunate Souls” — Ursule has an uncanny knack for problem-solving which has earned him the grim moniker Sea Witch. Unfortunately, it doesn’t prevent pesky merpeople from approaching him with their problems. Until two captivating eel-maids invade his lair, wishing for nothing more than his company. And his talented tentacles. 

“Part of his World” — Eric’s Epilogue. Prince Eric wasn’t always royalty. For that matter, he wasn’t always a merman.

Get your copy now! FREE in KU!

 About Ava

Ava Cuvay is an award-winning bestselling author of out of this world Sci-fi and Paranormal Romance featuring sassy heroines, gutsy heroes, passion, adventure… and the word “moist”. She resides in central Indiana with her own scruffy-looking nerfherder and teen kiddos who think her “Rizz” is “cringe” but she “passes the vibe check” and her books “hit different.” No cap. She believes life is too short to bother with negative people, everything is better with Champagne, and Han Solo shot first. Star Wars references are her love language.

Feel free to stalk me:
Website: https://avacuvay.com
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Newsletter: https://drinkingthestarspressllc.eo.page/v8296

Oh dear! When did reading become a source for shaming? There are so many vices in the world that could cause a person to be embarrassed, but I didn’t think reading would be one of them. And no, I’m not talking about the reading materials that come wrapped in black plastic, have parts of images blurred, or come with a parental warning label. (I’m not excluding those, either, cos you do you, boo. There’s room for everyone.) No, I’m speaking of any and all books regardless of genre, content, or reading level.

Some time ago, a colleague had a similar incident, and I may have blogged about it. I can’t remember. Honestly, I thought it was a one-off spoken by a not-so-great person, but here we are again—guilt-shaming for reading. Now, I’m wondering what is really going on. Here’s what happened. Warning: This involves the messiness of a relationship and obviously a literacy hater.

A female friend who most would consider an extrovert began a semi-romantic relationship with an introverted older man. Yes, the statement is already problematic. Let me clarify. The female, Jane (not her real name, but why not refer to her by the name of a writing pioneer, Jane Austen?), met Edmond (as in Edmond Dantès before he assumed the alias of the Count of Monte Cristo—you know, because Edmond couldn’t read). The “relationship” hadn’t advanced as far as “dating,” although Edmond had made it clear that he wanted it to. However, due to conflicting schedules, the two hadn’t been able to make that happen. They’d had to settle for mostly phone conversations and texting.

Whether Jane is truly an extrovert is questionable. She has a job that requires her to behave as one, and an intellect that allows her to intelligently speak on many topics. She can be quite garrulous. However, in her downtime, she can be quiet and enjoy alone time. People who do not know her well often only see the social side of her, and when she’s quiet, they assume she’s upset about something. One outstanding characteristic Jane possesses is that she can carry on a conversation. She’s the type of person you invite to a dinner party to prevent awkward silences. She has a way of making people feel comfortable. Again, this is part of her job. Likely, it was this characteristic, along with her bedroom voice and sarcastic sense of humor, that drew Edmond to her.

Edmond, a retiree, spent his days caring for his elderly mother until she passed away. Understandably, this left a large void in his life, especially since he lived with her. He spends his days doing mostly nothing. He runs the normal errands (grocery shopping, washing the car, finding people to do repairs and lawn work around the home, paying utility bills, etc.) Reportedly, he has no hobbies and has a somewhat rocky relationship with the majority of his family. He also gives exudes Eddie Haskell vibes—always seeking a shortcut or scheming while trying to appear innocent. He’s a master of throwing boulders and concealing his callused hands.

So, enough background.

The trouble began after Jane completed a project she’d been working on in her spare time after her nine-to-five for over a year. The project didn’t go exactly as planned, and Jane was highly disappointed. Edmond wasn’t supportive. In fact, he behaved (in my opinion) as if he were happy about it. Although this is purely speculation, the circumstantial evidence is as follows.

First, Edmond never appeared to take a genuine interest in Jane’s project. Despite not being able to share specifics about the project due to contractual obligations, Jane shared what she could. Often, Edmond would interrupt or shut her down by abruptly changing the conversation. In my opinion, this demonstrated Edmond’s disinterest in the project.

Second, the project made demands on Jane’s time, which meant less time Jane had to spend with Edmond. While I’ll admit his wanting to spend more time with her is understandable, it’s also childish to a certain degree. Most people who want to become attorneys have to dedicate long hours to studying and attending classes. Few just walk up to the bar association without any preparation or formal training, take the bar examination, and pass it. As an adult, he should have recognized that it would take time. It wasn’t like she was partying in bars or running all over town with friends. He knew exactly where she was and that she was working as quickly as she could.

Three, Jane had a goal with her project, and she had effectively communicated that goal to Edmond. He’d informed her that he understood, but he never exhibited any support for her pursuing her goal. Towards the conclusion, when the deadline was approaching, Edmond complained that Jane was too focused. He would interrupt her while she was working and sulk or attempt to begin an argument. If she complained because a part of the project had not gone as planned, he was the first to encourage her to quit. He even went as far as telling her that she wasn’t mentally strong enough to handle the pressures of the project.

After the failed project, Jane was in the dumps, and Edmond carried on as if nothing had happened. Mind you, this project had been a lifelong dream, and watching a dream die can be excruciatingly painful. Jane’s confidence in herself was severely shaken, especially since she didn’t have a definitive answer for why the project failed. She had major choices to make about her life and future. Should she try again, try something different, or give up? Eventually, she decided she needed a break—a pause to regroup. And since the world around her seemed terrible, she sought to escape in books.

Jane is a prolific reader, and she decided to expand her reading experience by trying new genres. And guess what. It worked in bringing her out of her glumness. She was shocked that she had discovered a new love, and she wanted to share it. Initially, she asked Edmond to buddy read. After a few weeks of hum-hawing and ho-humming, he brushed her off without manning up and giving her a direct answer. He came up with excuses of being busy, pretended he’d forgotten, or went to his famous go-to of changing the subject. He questioned by she enjoyed reading and insinuated that she read too much.

Then, one day, Jane mentioned finding someone else to be her reading buddy, and you’d think she threw a dart in his eyeball. He accused her of…well, I’m not sure what exactly. However, whatever it was, he made it to be her fault and that she was somehow belittling him. He made her love of reading all about him. When she explained that she wanted to discuss the books she read with someone, he told her she could discuss them with him.

And here is where it becomes twisted.

Previously, when Jane had talked about her current reads with Edmond, he’d not paid attention or changed the subject. More often than not, he’d interrupt. He’d complain that Jane was too long-winded and want her to jump to the ending. When she did, he wouldn’t understand and have questions—the same questions Jane would have answered had he not interrupted her. She’d try to explain, but eventually, the story would become jumbled and hard to follow for someone who hadn’t read it. Jane pointed this out to Edmond and stopped telling him about her current reads. But this led to another issue.

Edmond had made several statements that he wasn’t interested in hearing about Jane’s nine-to-five. He became jealous if she talked about her friends, especially her male platonic friends. He wasn’t familiar with current events and didn’t follow sports. Politics were taboo. But remember, he was an introvert and didn’t work. He expected Jane to begin and maintain all conversations. However, when Jane inquired about his day, he’d make a few short statements, often brief with not much to elaborate on.

Jane eventually grew quiet. And then came the accusatory questions. “What’s the matter?” “Why are you upset?” “Is there something you’re not telling me?” “There has to be something wrong. You’re not quiet for no reason?”

After some time attempting to nonconfrontationally navigate the situation, Jane confessed that she felt as if she was talking to herself and that the relationship was deteriorating. Edmond sulked but promised he would do better. He didn’t. What he did was after he went through his uneventful day, he would ask Jane about her current read. He’d remain quiet while she talked. Admittedly, this was an improvement from the interruption. However, he still seemed bored, and Jane knew he wasn’t understanding some of the more complicated plots, despite laughing when she had laughed.

Then, it really hit the fan.

A book Jane preordered and waited for months was finally released. Excited, she devoured the book in a single day. (Prolific reader.) In her words, “It was soooooooo guuuud!” And like many book lovers, she wanted to discuss it because “I have thoughts.” But when Edmond asked her about it, she didn’t want to talk about it with him. Why? Because with him, it wouldn’t have been a discussion. A discussion would involve a back-and-forth dialogue. What Edmond offered was a lecture situation, where she would do all the talking and he would half pay attention. If she was lucky, he might have paid attention long enough to regurgitate a comment. When she refused to talk about the book, he began hounding her as to why she wouldn’t. Eventually, she explained, and he fell off the deep end.

Here’s what amazed me when I was enlightened on the conversation. He was insulted because she read books. Yes, you heard it here, folks. He couldn’t understand why anyone would want to discuss a book. In fact, he took the stance that only she wanted to talk about books and “normal” people didn’t. He also stated that his “listening” was a “discussion” and that Jane was being an elitist (he didn’t use that term, probably because he doesn’t know it) for refusing. He said she thought she was better than him…all because she reads. He made her feel bad because she wanted to share her love of books.

Back in the day (and I mean way back before the printing press), books were expensive and rare. Not all people were given the right to read, and had to learn in secret. Now, there are so many opportunities to read (many for free), and people choose not. Reading has gone from being a privilege, to a right, to a necessity, to a four-letter word. Make it make sense.

One of the reasons Jane is a wonderful conversationalist is due to reading. She’s learned a lot from books and has developed an expansive vocabulary. She’s able to speak intelligently about many topics because of what she’s read. She’s creative and isn’t afraid to think outside of the box. She can relate and empathize with people who are vastly different from her. She’s the wiz at Trivia Pursuit on game night and the “expert” her coworkers seek when there’s a sticky situation. She is flexible and divergent in her thinking.

The true irony is Edmond insists he likes Jane for her personality. Jane’s personality was partly shaped by reading and books. Yet, he shames her for reading.

Do you know anyone like this? Have you ever heard of this type of situation? Have you ever experienced this type of read-shaming? What do you think about Edmond? What do you think about Jane? Let me know your thoughts and opinions in the comments below.

Demon Rodeo

If Brokeback Mountain, 8 Seconds, Poltergeist, and Supernatural had an orgy, Demon Rodeo would be the lovechild.

Demon Rodeo is available now on Amazon. For video book trailers, visit my TikTok page. The full blurb is on my Instagram and Amazon.

Demon Rodeo is the first book in the Chasing the Buckle series but can be read as a standalone. It’s a friends-to-lovers romance set in the rodeo world. These are not your typical cowboys. It’s a widely diverse cast of characters and a mashup of genres that aren’t always seen together. If you’re looking for a palate cleanser, this may be a book for you.

Order
⇨ Amazon: https://readerlinks.com/l/4174852
⇨ All Stores: https://books2read.com/u/bP8RG7

*Note: All of my books can be purchased from brick-and-mortar bookstores (e.g., Barnes & Noble, Book-A-Million, etc.) as well if requested at the checkout counter.)

Until next time, happy reading and much romance. Laissez le bon temps rouler.

If you’re not following my blog, Creole Bayou, what are you waiting for? There’s always room at the bayou.

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LOCKER ROOM LOVE

Locker Room Love Series

Are you searching for a sexy book boyfriend? You’ve come to the right place.

• Out of the Penalty Box (book #1) One minute in the box or a lifetime out.
• Defending the Net (book #2) Crossing the line could cost the game.
• Ice Gladiators (book #3) When the gloves come off, the games begin.
• Penalty Kill (book #4) Let the pucker begin.
• Future Goals (book #5) The future lies between a puck and a net.

About the Author

Hi, I’m Genevive, and I am a contemporary sports romance author. My home is in South Louisiana. If you like snark and giggles with a touch of steamy Cajun and Creole on the side, I may have your poison in my stash of books. Drop by the bayou and have a look around. The pirogues are always waiting for new visitors.

It’s the Victoria Day Weekend in Canada. It’s a statutory Federal holiday and the unofficial kickoff to the summer season. The holiday has been observed in Canada since at least 1845, originally falling on Victoria’s actual birthday (24 May 1819). Now it’s celebrated on the last Monday preceding May 25.

We call it the May Two-Four weekend to refer both to Queen Victoria’s birthday, but a two-four is also how we refer to a twenty-four pack of beer, always a popular drink on the holiday weekend.

So how do we celebrate:

1. A lot of folks go camping or head to their cabins. I’ve seen snow on the holiday weekend, and I’ve also gone swimming. The weather is unpredictable around here.

2. Drinking. A lot of people will kick back and enjoy a few cold alcoholic beverages.

3. Grilling. Steaks or burgers or hotdogs…something, but food is essential.

4. Campfire. It’s always a nice weekend to have a campfire on the beach. I haven’t done this in years but did a lot of it during my teenage years.

5. Relax. It is a holiday after all, a three-day weekend to relax with family and friends, maybe curl up and read a good book.

Whether you’re enjoying the holiday or it’s simply another Monday for you, I hope you enjoy it.

And if you’re looking for something to read, why not check out SAMAEL, the first book in the Blackwell Brothers’ Redemption trilogy.

Samael
Blackwell Brothers’ Redemption, Book 1

Love her. Protect her. Reap her soul.

Samael Blackwell is the son of Death—and he’s officially out of chances. After centuries of reaping souls with zero regard for the rules, his father sends him to the dead-end town of Redemption. With only a few hundred bucks and the clothes on his back, Sam has one last shot to prove he can do the job right: reap with compassion or lose everything.

It should’ve been easy. Find the soul. Finish the job. Walk away.

Then he meets Adrianne Sharp.

She’s strong, guarded, and hiding from a past that refuses to stay buried. The connection between them is instant—and impossible. Because Adrianne isn’t just anyone. She’s his assignment.

And her soul’s on the clock.

To win back his old life, all Sam has to do is watch her die. But what if the cost of redemption…is her?

He was sent to end her story. But she just might rewrite his.

Want to read more? You can find SAMAEL here:
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0F2SDQMVF/
B&N: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/samael-n-j-walters/1147212495
Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/samael-13
iBooks: https://books.apple.com/us/book/samael/id6743937757

About the Author

N.J. Walters is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author who has always been a voracious reader, and now she spends her days writing novels of her own. Vampires, werewolves, dragons, assassins, time-travelers, seductive handymen, and next-door neighbors with smoldering good looks—all vie for her attention. It’s a tough life, but someone’s got to live it.

Visit her at:
Website: http://www.njwalters.com
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Free for a limited time!

Happy spring!

My first indie published book has a brand-new cover, and to celebrate, it’s free until the end of the month!

If you read Bad Boys Behaving Badly: Secret Identities and remember my contribution to the collection—”Claimed by her Naga Bodyguard“—that story featuring a snake shifter takes place in the same world as Love Spells, Full Moons, and Silver Bullets.

Love Spells (for sort, cuz I gave it too long of a name!) takes place in a magical realm and features significant role reversals: she makes the money and she’s protecting him. It’s a fun swap.

In the story (which can stand alone but connects into the ongoing series), we get to encounter all kinds or creatures, from the normal witches, werewolves, and vampires, to the unique sirens, hellhounds, and even a minotaur and some leprechauns. I put my own spin on each type of creature.

And you’re not going to want to miss Lucifer, the fmc’s witty, snarky, wise-ass talking black cat!

Grab your copy today!

Here’s a preview:

Ian raced off as fast as he could, but she was faster. Of course, she was faster; she was a fucking vampire.

When she blocked off his retreat, he turned and started in another direction. Her laughter followed him. Like a cat with a mouse, she toyed with him. Mocking him, taunting him, and foiling each escape. He was under no false assumptions. She was playing with him.

“Little human, come with me,” she whispered. “I’d love to take you home for dinner.”

This time, when she spoke, no haze encircled him, just fear and dread. Her laugh was cut short when a wolf howled in the distance. Seeming on alert, her posture changed, and she lunged for him, all her teasing gone. He braced himself for her attack, sheltering his face as best he could, but her weight never hit him.

Mid-jump, something tackled her to the ground.

A beast, something definitely from a horror flick, rose up over her. It stood at least seven feet tall on its hind legs. Brown fur covered most of its body. It had a wide chest and wolf-like features but walked on two feet. Saliva fell from its mouth, dangling from its teeth like some rabid dog. Its attention turned to him but flickered back to the woman when she attacked it, kicking at its legs before launching nails-first toward the creature’s throat.

Movement behind him caused Ian to turn. More wolf-like creatures were barreling toward them, snapping tree limbs and leaving claw marks in the earth.

Abandoning the skirmish, Ian ran once more.

At one point, he’d been in fine shape, his body toned, his cardio excellent, but in the last year, he’d let physical exercise lapse, and now he felt the repercussions. His lungs burned, his legs ached. He wouldn’t be able to keep up this pace for long. He needed to find help or shelter. Somewhere to hide.

He didn’t bother to look back when he heard something, or more correctly, somethings, from the sound of it, in pursuit of him. He simply pushed on. Nightmare or not, it was his only chance. Praying he’d wake up, he tried running in a zig-zag pattern, but something threw him to the ground, and a second later, pain sliced across his back. Harsh, unforgiving, and deep, claws sunk into his skin.

He screamed in anguish, tears rushing to his eyes. Not a dream. So not a dream.

He was done for. This was the end.

Unexpectedly, the weight above him was removed. Ian pushed up a bit and watched as the vampire woman from before fought against the brown wolf creature.

Pushing to his knees, Ian felt blood dripping down his back. His shirt hung off his body, shredded by the wolf-man’s claws.

He staggered a bit, trying to get to his feet. That’s when he felt hot breath against his cheek. Twisting his head, he came face to face with another wolf-man. This one seemed bigger, its eyes black as night, as it stared at him, spittle hanging from its jowls.

Ian swallowed.

The creature opened its mouth and released a horrific roar.

Spit hit Ian’s face. The power behind that fierce sound moved Ian’s entire body, pushing him backward, like a fat pig blown from its straw house by the big bad wolf.

The creature stalked toward him, and once more, Ian’s legs propelled him forward. A few hundred yards, and he dove behind a pile of brush. He cowered there, knowing it was only a matter of time before they nabbed him.

With one hand, he reached back to assess the damage. The wound was deep. Three, maybe even four slashes across his skin. He’d need stitches or staples, and if he didn’t get help soon, likely a blood transfusion.

A low growl drew his attention. He peeked around the pile of twigs and leaves and spotted the two wolves pacing along what seemed to be an invisible line on the ground. Standing against a tree trunk further back was a woman.

“Why aren’t they attacking?” He wondered out loud as he used his sleeve to wipe sweat from his brow.

“Because they aren’t allowed to hunt on my territory.”

Ian’s gaze swung to the newest voice. This new being was just as shocking as the rest, with a purple and black dress that draped from her body, cut high in the front, revealing shapely thighs covered in torn stockings. Brown hair hung in ringlets around her shoulders, tumbling out from beneath a wide-brimmed pointed black hat. One hand was propped on her hip, and the other was wrapped around a corn broom handle. A heavy metal talisman hung around her neck. The green hue of her skin made her look as though she’d walked off the pages of a comic book and left absolutely zero question as to what she was.

A witch. Now there was a witch.

The vampire had been breathtaking, in a drugging sort of way, but this woman was stunning. Her beauty was raw and real. Or maybe that was just his loopy brain trying to make sense of this crazy world he’d stumbled into.

“Your territory?”

“Yes.” Her gaze dropped to him, and her mouth turned upward in a kind smile. “This is my land, and you are safe here.”

“You can’t keep him there forever, Quinn,” a deep voice spoke from behind the pile of forest rubble.

Ian took another look around the brush. Two men, both naked, one with raven hair and the other with sandy brown, paced that invisible line. “He won’t be leaving tonight, Draven. Go home.”

A snarl came from the brown-haired man. “I’ve tasted his blood, his flesh. Give him to me.”

The vampire, presently fixing her wild hair, sighed. “I’m going to find a new quarry. Enjoy your mortal, Quinn. You know where to find me if you want rid of him.”

Ian watched the exchange with interest. In fact, he was quite invested, as it seemed his life was being negotiated.

Faster than he could see, the vampire disappeared between the trees, but the men remained.

“I want him, Quinn. Give him back.”

“You’re wasting your breath, Draven. Leave now, or I will turn away all business that comes from your pack.”

Draven, the man who had taken a pound of flesh from Ian’s back, growled. “This isn’t over.” Then as Ian watched, he transformed back into a wolf creature and fled, leaving the raven-haired man behind.

He exhaled rather loudly. “I hope you aren’t making a mistake, Quinn.”

Ian glanced to the witch, whose eyes narrowed. “Think carefully about what side you’re on, Alec, and about what your conscience can live with.”

“The pack comes first. Always.”

“And you don’t ever let me forget it,” the witch—Quinn—said.

The raven-haired man looked as though he wanted to say more, but he merely shook his head, turned, and shifted into wolf form before following in the direction Draven had taken.

Blinking, Ian tried to make sense of any part of what had happened. One minute he was fighting with Priscilla, and now he was face-to-face with a witch.

He glanced up at her, wondering if he should start running again, but when he tried to move, his body gave up, collapsing in pain.

The broom dropped to the ground as Quinn came closer, tsking softly. “And just what sort of mess have you gotten yourself into?”

Contest

I’m also going to give away a sticker bundle. These stickers will include a few Clayridge specific stickers, as well as some fun “reader” type stickers. To enter, comment on the blog post and tell me: if you were a powerful witch/wizard/mage/sorcerer what would you want your power to be?

Enjoy your copy of Love Spells!

As Joan Rivers was famous for asking, “Can we talk?”

I’m going to bet that if you’re reading this, you enjoy reading romance novels. If you’re like me, you’re a book fanatic. Not only do I love writing, but I’m an avid reader. And I’m not picky about the media—paperback, hardback, eBook, audio, hieroglyphics. Shucks, I don’t care. I’ll read it any way it’s given to me. Just slide a manuscript in front of my greedy little eyes.

I’m not picky about genre, either, although horror, typically, isn’t my thing. I’m down to try just about anything at least once. (I have to put out there just about because as sure as I say anything, I’m going to get tossed something I don’t know exists and is a hard no.) Mostly, I’m in the romance aisle—or somewhere close to it. I only have one request: that it be good.

What makes for a good romance novel? The answer is obvious: fantastic writing and excellent storytelling. Duh! But what goes into these things? I think (and feel free to disagree) that the most important thing is creating dynamic characters. They don’t have to be over-the-top, but they should be… relatable. That’s the word that is frequently quoted to authors. Make your character relatable. But is that really what authors want to do to connect with readers? Or is a more accurate word believable?

Let’s think about this. The definition of relatable is possible to like, understand, or have sympathy for due to having similarities to oneself or one’s own experiences. I don’t know about anyone else, but the majority of the books I’ve read, I haven’t been anywhere close to being similar to the main character…at least, I hope I’m not. I mean, when I’m reading about stalkers, mercenaries, royalty, billionaires, and such, I couldn’t even begin to imagine I would have anything in common with them other than maybe bacon, because who doesn’t love bacon? But I’m willing to bet there’s a vegan in the bunch.

Even if it’s argued that it’s “emotional” traits that readers are connecting to, I’m still going to pass on that being an acceptable answer. Recently, I read a book that the main character was so obnoxious that any emotions he had were buried. Yet, the author had so beautifully developed his arrogance into humor that when he got what he deserved I was rooting for him to be shown mercy. By definition, this character should have been classified as an antihero. He was fun to read about. Was I rooting for him to get away with his crimes? Yes. Would I be a fan of someone who engaged in those same acts or lesser in real life? Absolutely not. Enjoying and relating are two different things.

That brings me back to believability. Can a reader believe a character like this exist? In the Harry Potter series, it is claimed that Dolores Umbridge is the most detested character by readers although Tom Riddle a.k.a., Lord Voldemort, is the main villain. The argument is that everyone knows someone like Dolores, but that Voldemort’s evil is so over-the-top deranged that he’s not relatable to most. But we all know there are plenty of people in this world who are so power-hungry that they will do anything and everything to get what they want. They have no empathy or compassion for others. Prisons are filled with people like this. However, the Lord Voldemort character works because he’s believable.

Jane Austen characters are said to have been popular when first written because she wrote characters that were accurate portrayal her current society. The argument contents that she continues to be popular because modern society can still relate to the emotions of her characters. Well, maybe. I’m not going to argue with experts who have far more experience, education, and pedigrees than myself. But I’m going to toss out there that a lot more people don’t relate to those characters than ones that do. And the reason I say this is because Cliff Notes. Yes, Cliff Notes. Cliff Notes aren’t just the summaries for people to get the gist of something they aren’t interested in reading for themselves. It provides a breakdown an explanation scene by scene. Why? Because some readers have no clue of what’s being splayed before them.

When I first read Pride & Prejudice, I had no idea that Mr. Darcy slighted Elizabeth because he was shy. I just saw him as a pompous butthead—probably the same way Elizabeth did. I also didn’t relate to Elizabeth. If she was as “slighted” as she was said to have been, she would have made more of an effort to not engage with him. Besides, all of those relationships had a tone of insta love for me. I didn’t care that Charles Bingley took one look at Jane and instantly fell for her or that after one night of dancing they were practically mentally engaged. I’ve never seen insta love in real life. Is it possible? Anything’s possible, so, yeah. I was there for it in the story because of the dynamic storytelling. I believed these characters could exist in my world.

Last year, I read a book that had rave reviews. When I finished, I sat stunned for about thirty minutes wondering what was wrong with me. Why couldn’t I see what everyone else had seen? Why wasn’t I beaming about this book? After much thought, I realized it was because the author hadn’t sold me on the story. I didn’t believe the characters to be authentic. I didn’t believe the setting. I didn’t believe the setups were natural. How could one character know that the other character would find a random clue at a specific time and figure out what it meant—a clue that anyone could have stumbled upon and moved?

**SPOILER ALERT** In the movie the Shawshank Redemption, Andy tells Red about a tree in a field in Zihuatanejo that he and his wife had a picnic under. Andy was in jail for 19 years, and this picnic had occurred many years prior to his incarceration. So, when Andy tells Red to find that tree if he ever gets out, how does Andy know that tree is still standing? It could have been struck by lightening or bulldozed to make way for a high-rise. Landscapes change all the time. Chances are that tree isn’t there anymore, or at the very least, the layout no longer looks the same as Andy remembers from more than twenty years ago. But do movie watchers balk when Red finds it? Nope. Why? Because the audience is invested by that point. The storytelling has won over.

So, now, let’s go back to the start. What makes a good romance novel? It’s two (or more if it’s polygamous) people who have a believable connection and a vibrant love story. Readers may have nothing in common with the characters or their situations but are able to believe they could happen and exist. Now, I know this is an unpopular opinion, so let me know what you think in the comments. Is it relatability or believability?

And that’s all I got for today. Now, it’s your turn to sound off. Let me know your thoughts below in the comment section. Your feedback allows me to know the content that you want to read. And if you like this post, consider clicking the like button and sharing.

Demon Rodeo

If Brokeback Mountain, 8 Seconds, Poltergeist, and Supernatural had an orgy, Demon Rodeo would be the lovechild.

Demon Rodeo is available now on Amazon. For video book trailers, visit my TikTok page. The full blurb is on my Instagram and Amazon.

Demon Rodeo is the first book in the Chasing the Buckle series but can be read as a standalone. It’s a friends-to-lovers romance set in the rodeo world. These are not your typical cowboys. It’s a widely diverse cast of characters and a mashup of genres that aren’t always seen together. If you’re looking for a palate cleanser, this may be a book for you.

Order
⇨ Amazon: https://readerlinks.com/l/4174852
⇨ All Stores: https://books2read.com/u/bP8RG7

*Note: All of my books can be purchased from brick-and-mortar bookstores (e.g., Barnes & Noble, Book-A-Million, etc.) as well if requested at the checkout counter.)

Until next time, happy reading and much romance. Laissez le bon temps rouler.

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LOCKER ROOM LOVE

Locker Room Love Series

Are you searching for a sexy book boyfriend? You’ve come to the right place.

• Out of the Penalty Box (book #1) One minute in the box or a lifetime out.
• Defending the Net (book #2) Crossing the line could cost the game.
• Ice Gladiators (book #3) When the gloves come off, the games begin.
• Penalty Kill (book #4) Let the pucker begin.
• Future Goals (book #5) The future lies between a puck and a net.

About the Author

Hi, I’m Genevive, and I am a contemporary sports romance author. My home is in South Louisiana. If you like snark and giggles with a touch of steamy Cajun and Creole on the side, I may have your poison in my stash of books. Drop by the bayou and have a look around. The pirogues are always waiting for new visitors.

SAMAEL is the first book in the Blackwell Brothers’ Redemption trilogy, featuring three brothers with a very interesting job—they’re reapers.

Being the sons of the Grim Reaper comes with expectations, and their father is not happy at how they’ve been conducting business. He’s given them each an ultimatum— learn to reap with compassion and do the job to his standards or face eternal exile. Stranded in the town of Redemption with limited powers and money and no way to communicate with the outside, they’ll all play the game, reap the soul, and return to their normal lives. It’s a straightforward plan—until they meet their assignments.

Samael
Blackwell Brothers’ Redemption, Book 1

Love her. Protect her. Reap her soul.

Samael Blackwell is the son of Death—and he’s officially out of chances. After centuries of reaping souls with zero regard for the rules, his father sends him to the dead-end town of Redemption. With only a few hundred bucks and the clothes on his back, Sam has one last shot to prove he can do the job right: reap with compassion or lose everything.

It should’ve been easy. Find the soul. Finish the job. Walk away.

Then he meets Adrianne Sharp.

She’s strong, guarded, and hiding from a past that refuses to stay buried. The connection between them is instant—and impossible. Because Adrianne isn’t just anyone. She’s his assignment.

And her soul’s on the clock.

To win back his old life, all Sam has to do is watch her die. But what if the cost of redemption…is her?

He was sent to end her story. But she just might rewrite his.

An excerpt…

He pushed into a seated position and got his first glimpse of himself. It wasn’t only his watch that was gone. He no longer wore his custom Tom Ford suit and hand-tooled Italian shoes. In their place were worn jeans, a plain white T-shirt, a battered leather jacket, and boots that had seen their best day a decade ago.

He pushed himself upright and brushed the dirt and debris from his clothes. Raking his fingers through his hair, he scanned his surroundings. There were trees everywhere, not a high-rise to be seen. A huge crow swooped down and perched on a nearby branch, cold black eyes staring directly at him.

“Malaki. Why am I not surprised the old man sent you to spy on me?” Crows were often employed as messengers between the land of the living and the realm of the dead. Malaki was his father’s companion, his personal assistant, as it were. “You tell him I’ll play his game, and I’ll damn well win.”

*~*~*

Want to read more? You can find SAMAEL here:
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0F2SDQMVF/
B&N: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/samael-n-j-walters/1147212495
Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/samael-13
iBooks: https://books.apple.com/us/book/samael/id6743937757

About the Author

N.J. Walters is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author who has always been a voracious reader, and now she spends her days writing novels of her own. Vampires, werewolves, dragons, assassins, time-travelers, seductive handymen, and next-door neighbors with smoldering good looks—all vie for her attention. It’s a tough life, but someone’s got to live it.

Visit her at:
Website: http://www.njwalters.com
Blog: http://www.njwalters.blogspot.com
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Facebook Author Page: https://www.facebook.com/N.J.WaltersAuthor
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Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/NJWalters
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/author/njwalters
BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/n-j-walters

In my blog posts, I do my best to destroy the myth of the single narrative usually painted of African Americans in the 19^th century, i.e., destitute, formerly enslaved, and/or dependent on the largesse of well-meaning Whites. Eliza Potter with her book, A Hairdresser’s Experience in High Life, does the same only to depictions of aspirational black women who sought only to uplift the race. Eliza bettered her personal situation first and then used that experience in her book to turn a mirror not only on the “high life” superiority assumptions Whites had about themselves, but also on blacks who exploited blacks.

Depending on your source, Eliza Potter was born of mixed-race parentage in 1820, either in NYC or Virginia. Little is known about her formative years. She married twice, the first time to Mr. Johnson and the second to Howard Potter in 1853, who died in 1860, a few months after her work, A Hairdresser’s Experience of High Life, was published in 1859.

Potter first made her living as a nanny/nurse and a domestic to families of the American “ton” in places like Newport R.I. and Saratoga N.Y. This enabled her to travel not only across the country but to Europe. In 1841, while in Paris, she learned to dress hair, which she did once she returned to the US and settled in Cincinnati. There, she pursued a full-time higher-paying career as a beauty expert and one knowledgeable about European standards of “ladylike” behavior.

Her memoir also falls into the category of travel narrative, popular in her day, because of the various places she visited but she didn’t just provide a travelogue. She commented on what she saw, particularly on slavery as she traveled the South. With her account of a black woman who owned slaves and was just as vicious as white slave owners, Potter shocked abolitionists who wanted to portray all blacks as victims.

The tone she employs in her book defies the deferential posture 19^th century blacks and women in particular were supposed to adopt.  Historian Henry Louis Gates in his chapter on her in The Portable Nineteenth Century African American Women Writers, describes her memoir not only as gossipy but sharp-tongued. In her introduction to A Hairdresser’s Experience Professor Xiomara Santamarina describes how deftly Potter’s critique comes off as advice on breeding rather than criticism.

When she died in 1893, she was reported to own $2400 in property, roughly seventy-two to seventy-five thousand dollars in today’s money. And lest I give you the impression she was self-serving, Potter regularly helped others. In Cincinnati, she served as a trustee of the Colored Orphan Asylum. While on a visit to Louisville, KY, Potter shared information on the Underground Railroad that helped a slave to freedom. For this act she was extradited, jailed and tried, but fortunately acquitted.

I’ll be forever grateful for the legacy left by 19^th century African American women like Eliza Potter and for the efforts of those who selflessly share so I can learn about them.

For a chance at a $10 gift card, share your thoughts on my post in the comments below.

“Put It in a Book” by Michal Scott
Inside Stranded

Trapped in a book by a sorcerer for rejecting his sexual advances,
an ex-slave’s daughter discovers one hope of rescue – a nosy thief.

Excerpt:

“No one will ever read your story,” he whispered with snake-like malice. His laugh bruised her heart each time he congratulated himself on his ingenuity. “You will remain hidden in these pages until you give yourself to me.”

Never had been her answer when he’d propositioned her a week after she’d arrived in Liberia. Never was her answer when he’d caught her pleasuring herself by the river’s edge after her morning swim. Never remained her answer from the day she’d awakened entombed within the pages of her own story to this.

How often had hope flared at the possibility of someone opening these pages and setting her free?

Too often.

How many times had Morlu’s possessive grip caressed her prison’s spine, his wet thumb sliding down the edges of its pages?

Too many.

“Everyone I’ve imprisoned yielded within a day. You’ve resisted for thirty,” he exclaimed. “I must dedicate a chapter to your resilience.”

He splayed his fingers across her prison’s pages, too accurately mimicking the spreading of her thighs. Her captive limbs shuddered. His calloused finger slid along the book’s gutter. Her inert hands tensed, unable to shield herself from the erotic—albeit vicarious—chafing his touch provoked.

“Your opposition makes your eventual capitulation that much sweeter.” He slid his finger faster, deeper between the pages. “And make no mistake…you will surrender.”

Each time he placed her back on the shelf, he planted a cold kiss on the book’s spine. Aziza quivered against the chill, unable to staunch the revulsion roiling in her throat—or at least, where she imagined her throat might still be.

“Until then,” he whispered.

Her spirit cringed at those words. She’d escaped from plantation owners eager to punish her for secretly teaching slaves to read. Her spirit had remained unbowed after fourteen harrowing weeks crossing the Atlantic. Even the hardships that had killed more than three-quarters of all who had emigrated to Liberia hadn’t vanquished her. If neither threats to her life nor dangers at sea nor the high mortality rate could defeat her, she’d be damned if this self-serving sorcerer would.

Buylink: Amazon – https://amzn.to/3dLd9rM