New Release Frozen in Time by Koko Brown

“Where is she?”

“Don’t you want to eat supper after such a hard day of work?” his mother asked, sidestepping his question.

“Do not try and placate me, Brita. At this moment, I am not hungry for food.

“Where…is…she?”

Before she could answer, the kitchen staff ambled into the hall with the evening meal. As if drawn to an open flame, his eyes fell on the exotic beauty carrying a large trencher topped with roasted duck, her plain linen dress soiled with grease and her tightly wound curls escaping from a hair tie. Yet despite her unkempt appearance, nothing could detract from her exotic good looks.

“Are you behind this?” he asked, his eyes never straying from the woman.

“N-n-no,” his mother stammered. “When we returned to the hall, she asked me about the other slaves’ duties. After I apprised her, she headed off toward the kitchen. She’s been there ever since.”

Eirik felt his anger rise as Reese slid the trencher onto the main table. When she turned to head back to the kitchen, she faltered, having noticed him. Their eyes met briefly, and then she looked away, summarily dismissing him.

This…was…the…last…straw!

“Excuse me, Mother.”

Eirik left his mother to stalk after Reese. When he caught up with her, he seized her wrist and proceeded to drag her through the main hall, back to his bedchambers, where he kicked the door shut behind him before pushing her up against it.

She struggled, but her efforts were no match for the arm he braced against her while his free hand fumbled with the lacings of his leggings. When his cock sprang free, the single eye wept in anticipation.

“If you take me, it’ll be by force!” she yelled at the top of her lungs.

“Nei, it will not be by force. Both of us know you crave my lessons.”

“Liar!” she charged, but her moan belied her words when he bit the side of her neck.

“We shall see,” he chuckled, pressing his body into hers. His hands gathered the folds of her skirt and lifted the hem.

In a last-ditch effort, Reese bucked against him. Her efforts were wasted because her dress was now bunched around her waist, and her sex exposed to his seeking fingers. She stilled when his hand slid up the inside of her thighs.

“I’ve been thinking about lying between your soft thighs all day,” he breathed against her throat. “And I’ve thought about your tight quim and how it grips my cock,” he whispered, his hand rubbing her throbbing mound, eliciting a strangled moan from her tightly pressed lips.

Eirik reached up and clasped her chin. He brought her head around so she had no other choice but to look at him. “There is nothing to be ashamed of, my tiny warrior. You have won the battle…but as we both know, I will win the war,” he growled before his lips slashed across her mouth, opening her lips to his seeking tongue.

Author Interview: Vonna Harper

Author Name: Vonna Harper
Year started writing for LI: 2005?
Titles: Surrender's Dance, Cougar's Captive, Fantasy's Fear, Galen's Pet
Web Page: www.vonnaharper.com


What genre do you write in, and why? :

Mostly capture/BDSM. I heard it was one of the most popular genres and has done well for me. Also taps in personal fantasies.


How much time do you spend writing every week? :

I consider it my day job so I'm at it most days


What was the first story you ever wrote about? (not nec. first published story) :

Boy does that take me back. It was a man against nature about five mountain men in the 1700s. I forgot to include conflict.


How do you judge the effectiveness of the sensual scenes in your stories? :

I'm not very good at that. The rough draft is work, hard work. Revision is where I try to sense whether the sensuality speaks to me. It comes down to word flow.


What one word best describes your toy collection? :

Bullets


Where did your most unusual plot idea come from? :

A picture in a children's book of a pack of wild dogs.


What inspires you to write? :

I can't not write. It's hardwired into me.


Plotter or a Pantser? :

I'd love to be a pantser but I always write myself into a corner when I try.


When you get stuck, how do you find your way back to the writing? :

Think about the stuck part when I'm going to sleep. Options are usually waiting when I wake up.


The Personal stuff:

Any outrageous liaisons in your past?

I wish.


Where's the most unusual place you ever managed to have sex? :

A hiking trail backed up to a boulder


What was the most romantic meal you've eaten? :

Italian served by an Italian family.



What kind of books do you read for fun? :

Suspense with some nonfiction thrown in.


Is your real life anything like your stories? What about your fantasies? :

Oh sure. I do set a lot of my stories in the wilderness and we have a mountain cabin. Yes, my writing is an outlet for my fantasies.

If you were to make a bumper sticker for your car that had to relate to erotic romance, what would it say? :

Sorry. I'm coming up blank.

Soulmates? Do you believe? :

No.


Sex with anyone famous? :

Don't I wish.


Cake or Pie? Coke or Pepsi? Tea or Coffee? :

Pie. I don't like soft drinks. Coffee.

Stretching myself

Before I ramble on, I wanted to point everyone to a contest. Vote in the poll, "What did Mechele do?" at my newsletter group and those who get the answer right will be entered in a drawing for a $10 Loose Id gift certificate.

Now onto the rambling.

I don't like telling the same story over and over again. I sort of knew this but definitely found it out when I was working on my Curses trilogy. I had planned three similar stories. The stories didn't want to work that way. I couldn't make them. It's why the names (The Six Curses of Christmas, The Sixth Curse of Spring, and the Sixth Cursed Halloween) are all just a little different. That's because all the stories worked themselves out in slightly different ways.

I like to stretch myself with stories. I don't like writing something I'm not enthusiastic about.

My latest work really brought that home. It's the newest Settler's Mine, The Wolf. It's not a menage. It didn't want to be. It does have a lot of D/s and bondage play in it. Which was a thrill for me to do. Because it's more explicit in those areas than anything else I've ever written. I've toyed with them at times but this is the first book where they are openly done.

And the writing poured from me with ease. I think it's because I like stretching myself. That makes me happy, leading to a happy muse.

So here's to the next stretch.

Mechele Armstrong aka Lany of Melany Logen
http://www.mechelearmstrong.com
http://www.melanylogen.com

Will I ever learn?

Contrary to the usual standard 'oh I was writing stories when I was 6/8/10' staple of many authors I didn't pick up a pen until 2006. Or more exactly I should say I didn't pick up a pen and write a story with it, I've a long checkered history with photographs, oil paints, pencils, pens and ink. So writing, and indeed publishing is a career that is relatively new to me. Oh how my frustrated English teachers must be turning in their graves! (Yes, I was the person that debated every poem and every paragraph of prose when we were 'told' what it meant. That person in class that pulled out the 'but how do you know that's what they meant?' line of defense.)

I may well have been a minor genius at debating our understanding of the written word and the authors actual intent, but I couldn't deconstruct the English language to save myself. I still can't. It's a sad thing to know that my 2nd grader probably could tell you what's wrong with a sentence faster than I can. Oh, I can tell you what's wrong, all right, using a finger and the phrases 'this needs to be here, and that over there or else this is doing that which is impossible!' but if it comes to using such phrases as participles, adjectives, dangling modifiers you're shit out of luck. And you're likely to be the recipient of a blank stare as Anne frantically searches the recesses of her brain for the answer because-she-should-know-this-stuff-damn-it!

Thank your preferred Deity for good editors. Barbara M, you're my lifesaver!

I'm pretty sure I'm the bane of her existence.

I've had a lot to learn the past 2 1/2 years. The dreaded 'it' and 'that', show versus tell, dialogue tags (who knew he said/she said was a bad thing?), the list goes on. And then there is my pet foible, starting sentences with '-ly' and 'ing'. Yes, the dreaded 'Suddenly, there was a noise.' syndrome (and, if you noticed, my bad habit of starting sentences with And only superceeded by But). Yet, every time I hand in a new manuscript I wait with baited breath for the first edits.

Did I manage this time to pick up on my problem areas? Did I slip back into NZ/Britishisms when the piece is set amibgiously but with American turns of phrase (which I did in this case, seriously though, do you have any idea how hard it is to realise what is or isn't a Kiwi/Britishism when you are a Kiwi? Doesn't everyone call it a chilly bin and a kitchen bench?). Did I find all the it's and explain just what 'it' is? Have all those things my editor has taught me finally sunk in yet? (cross fingers, touch wood, thrown salt over my shoulder etc etc)

Can I plead baby brain when the baby is now eight? Rapid onset adult ADD? Is it possible, nearly three years on to plead newbie status? Or should I resign myself to the fact that even at 80, my editor will still open that first final draft file with their eyes closed?

And most importantly of all: Will I still be sending off that final draft file with my eyes firmly glued shut?

I guess I'm just going to have to stick around this writing game a bit longer to find out. :)

AnneD
(Who really needs to get back to her editing and finding all those pesky Kiwi phrases that slipped through!)

PS. If you want some good advice on how to make your work great, hit Lena's blog, where she's done a whole series from plotting to editing and further that has some GREAT advice.



And here is the rest of it.

In Service

What if sex was an inter galactic duty? Your moral obligation to help save all the worlds?

Malla was an ordinary woman, but when the bug wars came to her and ruined her life, she stepped up to the call, got tested... and learned she was an elite level server, a woman capable of sustaining succubus-like alien warriors called Luo. Good thing she likes sex, cause that's how her men mostly feed.

Her sense of duty extends beyond signing on for the war. It runs deep and mixes with feelings both sweet and sexy as she bonds to her four-man team. Which team member would you fall for? The enormous, gruff-but-submissive elder of the team, sniper Grady? The cool, contained, haughty Prince nobly risking his own neck in the cause? The wild, uninhibited, impulsive but charming Kor? Or the quiet, intense, dominant Shon, team leader and mystery?

Yeah, that's what I thought. You want all four of them. And so does Malla.

Buy Link: http://www.loose-id.com/detail.aspx?ID=787

www.mimawithin.com


NSFW Explicit Excerpt:
“Lady.”
“Hmmphf.”
“Lady Malla.”
“Hunnh?”
“Malla.”
She was utterly warm, and perfectly lax. The bed under her was that perfect cross between support and softness, and something warm and silky covered her. She was nude, and it was dark. Only one muted, golden light glowed on a console across the room. She didn’t know where she was, but she knew she was with her Team. She was safe.
“Lady Malla.”
She stretched, pointing her toes, curling her arms up around her head. “Hmmm?”
Now that she was awake, the pestering voice fell silent.
She blinked at the silhouette of huge shoulders, the shaggy head. “Kor?”
He remained still.
“Did something happen?”
He let out a shuddering breath. “No.”
Malla lay in the dark, strange bed, and considered the person perched near her thigh. Mentally checking her energy status, she licked her lips to hide her grin. Poor baby. This one was the youngest on the team. This one was a bad boy. He liked it raw, and he liked it often. Three days without drinking wouldn’t be something he was used to. She shifted one leg, bending the knee in such a way her cover slithered off one breast. She pushed herself up onto her elbows, the position arching her back. The covers fell to her ribs.
“You woke me up.”
Another shaky breath. “Yeah.”
Curling one hand up from the bed, she feathered her fingers along the edge of one bulging breast.
“You wanted to meet me?”
He choked, biting out, “Yes.”
“Ah.” She moved her legs restlessly again, sweeping up and out so the covers were pulled down low on her belly.
“Well, I think you must know by now, Kor, that I’m your new server. An Elite.”
He stayed silent, but she heard him breathing.
She pulled her heels up to her ass, splayed her knees wide. The sheet pulled tight for a moment between her legs, then billowed gently down.
“Kor, you can fuck me as hard as you want, and I’d be able to get up from this bed and go straight into a full ritual for Vel. Nothing you could take from me would stop me from healing the whole team.”
She waited, but he remained motionless, silent. She kept stroking the sensitive side of her breast, both nipples beading. She didn’t feel entirely sloppy between her legs and guessed Grady had washed her. But she was definitely wet, and she could smell sex.
“Kor. Are you nude?” She could make out that he was topless, but wasn’t sure about his lower half.
“Yeah.”
“Then pull down this sheet and take me. Drink straight from my cunt if you want to. As much as you want. I took care of Grady already and I’m totally fine.”
He stood abruptly. “Shon’s on duty. I’m not even wounded. Vel will need so much --”
Voice hardening, heart pounding, she said, “Kor. I want you in my body. However you want, but I want you in me now.”
He ripped the cover away and was between her thighs, shoving his face hard against her. Her skin rippled in shock from the heat of him, the strength pinning her legs, the pressure and sudden, spiking pleasure. Damn. He could really deliver.
His teeth caught her clit, his hands wrapped hard up around her thighs from beneath. His mouth closed on her vagina, and he moaned, burrowing his face in harder as he began to suck. Between pulls, he spoke. “Keep talking. I’m going to fuck you, and I need to know it’s okay. Tell me.” His tongue traced where his teeth met her folds, and then began to flick at her hole.
“Ah, Kor. I love it. Suck hard.”
She let herself fall back off her elbows, reaching to grab her knees and pull them up and out, putting her feet on his incredible shoulders.
“Give me that hot tongue, Kor. I want it deep. As soon as you send me over, I’ll gush cum and feed you good.”
He grunted, and his tongue tunneled into the folds of her vagina. Malla rocked her hips up into his face, moaning hard.

Hot Topic: Book Length

Today's Topic:

Book Length

With so many authors writer shorter and shorter works of fiction, which story length do you prefer?

The elves are back to continue what I've started

Dark Elves V: Discovery is now available at Loose Id.

Those who knew me in college probably wouldn't be surprised at the content of my most popular series. Those who knew me in high school definitely wouldn't be surprised. Well, okay, they might be surprised at the many and varied combination of sexual partners, but none of them would be especially surprised to hear that I was a published author of erotic romance.

Because, you see, I've been a writer of sex longer than I've been published for it. Sex has been a fascination for me for a long, long time, which is kind of surprising when you find out that I didn't have it until I was in my twenties. At least not with another person. I used to write fantasy stories for my friends back in high school and junior high. I was asked how I could write about sex since I'd never done it. Answer? I'd read about it. A lot. Those big thick romance novels? Harlequins? Oh yes, I had them. Used them like text books almost. Luckily I was realistic enough to recognize the overblown from what might actually be fact.

Back then and now, I think it's a beautiful thing when two (or more) people come together to share the only thing they truly have with one another, themselves. It's better when there is love involved, but there are all kinds of love, not just romantic. There is friendship, comfort, respect and just pure appreciation of the beauty of another soul.

So, I write what I like, what fills my head. Hopefully my characters are people you'll want to spend time with and explore with, even if it's just a mindless romp.

This elves story is a bit deeper, a bit broader and a bit different. Hopefully fans of the series won't be put off by certain subjects. I wrote it as it was meant to be written--even if it did give me fits along the way--and hopefully I'll be able to conclude my planned arc in book six to the satisfaction of those who like my fantasy world.

Celebrate With A Contest

INTO THE NIGHT, book two in Caitlyn Willows' Into the Heart erotic paranormal series, was just released (Book one, INTO THE LAIR, is a 2007 Dream Realm Award Winner) which gives Caitlyn two fantastic reasons to celebrate! And Author Island is helping me do so with a great contest!

Want to win the Shapeshifter Tarot card deck that helped guide Caitlyn's muse through the writing of INTO THE NIGHT? Then head on over to Author Island for information on how you can enter.

Author Interview: Qwillia Rain

Author Name: Qwillia Rain
Year started writing for LI: 2007
Titles: Santa’s Elf
Web Page: www.freewebs.com/clubdiabloblanco


What genre do you write in, and why? :
Currently I dabble in a bit of everything. Santa’s Elf was the start of an interest in erotic romance with BDSM elements, but I’ve also written stories in the genres of Romantic Suspense, Erotica, and Paranormal/Romantic Comedy. Only Santa’s Elf has been published.
As to why? Because that’s what the characters tell me to write. LOL, I know it sounds a bit schizophrenic, but each of my characters seem to be alive in my mind and when they want their story told, they make sure I know it. I just hope the characters never stop talking.


How much time do you spend writing every week? :
It depends upon what time of the year it is. Since my day job is in education, during the school year, I only have the time before and after school to do any writing, as well as the weekends. Right now, since I’m on summer break, I can spend as much or as little time as I’d like to write. I do try to spend at least two hours a day writing and I always have multiple projects going on to keep my characters active.


What was the first story you ever wrote about? (not nec. first published story) :
It was a romance novel about a kidnapped woman who escapes her captors and finds refuge on a man’s private island. I should have known then (at the age of 12) that sex would feature highly in my stories, since I had multiple sex scenes and even a mild bondage scene with the hero and heroine. LOL

How do you judge the effectiveness of the sensual scenes in your stories? :
Step one is to see if I squirm in my seat when I read it. Step two is to send it to a friend of mine, and if she tells me she and her husband were very occupied after reading the scene, then I know I’ve hit the right note.


Do you ever try out the sexual positions you write to make sure of accuracy? :
No comment


Ever been told, Um...sweetie, that's not how it works? :
Nope, not yet. (Although, I did have someone tell me once that the “virility” of my male characters were impossible)


What one word best describes your toy collection? :
Eclectic


Favourite candy while writing? :
Depends on my mood, it could be chocolate, bubble gum, chewy sweet tarts, gummi worms, or Red Vines.


Where did your most unusual plot idea come from? :
A folk art museum display of a doll house.


What inspires you to write? :
I have no idea. I’ve always had stories going through my head. When I didn’t like the ending of the books I read, I would write my own. According to my mom, I’ve been writing or re-writing stories since I started reading at 3.


What music inspires your writing? :
I don’t usually listen to music while I’m writing. When I’m having problems accessing the emotions of my characters during a scene, I’ll listen to different types of music to get the mood, and then turn it off.
Much like my toys, I have an eclectic mix of music from classical to acid or metal rock. Depending on the mood of the scene, I listen to Nickelback, Dio, Black Sabbath, Ozzy Ozbourne, Enya, Joan Osbourne, Rhianna, Dean Martin or any of the Rat Pack singers.

Plotter or a Pantser? :
Pantster, all the way. I usually get the pivotal scenes for a story. I type out the primary idea, the elements associated with it, and some of the dialogue in the scene. After I’ve gotten those, I’ll go back and fill in the bridging scenes and elements.

Does your cat insist on sitting on your keyboard like mine does? :
Nope. She’s learned that the computer, when I’m on it, is off limits. Now, when I’m asleep, that’s another thing entirely. LOL. She’s a bit skittish around humans, only because she was abused before I adopted her from the pound. Usually she sleeps on the chair directly across the table from where I sit when I work on the computer.


Most challenging place you've ever written a spicy scene? :
During the middle of testing at my school. Very hard to “get in the scene” when you have 52 second graders clicking away on the computer. LOL.


When you get stuck, how do you find your way back to the writing? :
I go for a drive, read a book, listen to music, or watch a movie. I figure, I’m stuck because the characters need a little privacy before revealing more information to me. Distracting myself from what’s going on helps to release the characters from their own disquiet in imparting information.
(Man, am I sounding as psycho to you as I do to me? LOL—I just feel like the characters are as real as the people I meet on the street. I strive to impart that very “aliveness” to the readers so that my characters become just as real to them as they are to me. Does that make sense?)


The Personal stuff:

Any outrageous liaisons in your past?
Nope, sorry, very boring past, but hey, I’m young (just turned 42) give me time!


Where's the most unusual place you ever managed to have sex? :
No comment.


What kind of books do you read for fun? :
All kinds! When I’ve glutted myself of romance novels (of all sexually explicit levels), I like to read books on brain function and neurology, crime scene investigation, forensic sciences, horror (psychological rather than gore), fantasy, or young adult novels.


Is your real life anything like your stories? What about your fantasies? :
I wish-lol. I guess you could say I’m living vicariously through my characters and the fantasies I’ve had my characters act out.


If you were to make a bumper sticker for your car that had to relate to erotic romance, what would it say? :
You know it’s time to get a new boyfriend when it takes longer to poach an egg than for him to perform.


Soulmates? Do you believe? :
Oh yes, I’ve just never met mine yet. I have hope I will eventually.


Sex with anyone famous? :
Only in my dreams.

Cake or Pie? Coke or Pepsi? Tea or Coffee? :
Cake (chocolate fudge). Forget Coke or Pepsi, give me Dr Pepper. Love the smell of coffee, but bleck on the taste. As for tea—I like chai tea and chai tea lattes, with or without caffeine.

Blogged Down

When I realized last night that I had a blog due here at Loose Ends, my immediate reaction was a sinking sensation. Not again, I thought, and I can't help wondering if readers don't feel something similar.

How much do readers really want to hear writers rambling on about their aching wrists and their looming deadlines and their pissy feelings about other writers? Surely I'm not the only one who feels a little jaded right about now with the whole blogosphere?

This is not to say that I don't enjoy interacting with my readers and colleagues -- I do. Maybe too much. But is it necessarily a good thing to be so accessible? I'm not sure. Does it take away that authorial mystique? Probably. There is a trade off, of course. Readers feel like they know me better -- and if they like me, that's a good thing. If they don't like me...not so good.

Do I care if everyone likes me? No. Obviously not, or I wouldn't continue to shoot my mouth off. But I do worry that Josh the web personality wil eventually flavor the taste of my fiction for some readers. Because, speaking for myself as a reader, I don't want the distraction of the author's personality. If the author as character is too vivid, I find it's one more obstacle in crossing that suspension-bridge of disbelief.

There are no blogs I visit on a regular basis. Friends blogs, review blogs, publishing news blogs: I check in when a pal is being interviewed or someone asks me look at something, but other than that, I don't have time. Not even for those funny, clever blogs that make me laugh every time I pop in. Not even for the blogs that make me think -- or teach me something. I just don't have the time -- even when I have the inclination. And generally I don't even have the inclination. It's nothing personal. After a few months, let alone a year or so, we've pretty much heard it all. Even from the people we like. Even from the people whose work we love.

Or am I the only one who feels like this? Am I suffering from anti-social feelings right now?

There is also the problem of writers getting too relaxed and being a little too honest with their reading public. Bitching about bad reviews is the least of it. I'm talking about bloggers stupid enough to badmouth their publishers (or publishers denigrating writers) -- or reveal personal and damaging information about themselves and others. Do I want to know about your sex life or legal problems? Probably not. And when you're feeling calmer, you probably don't want me to know about those things either. You surely don't want a prospective employer -- or stalker -- to know about them.

So what do you think about blogging? I think it's here to stay, but how much is too much? What's a good balance? What blogs to you frequent -- and why?

Kick Ass

Hi Loose Id friends! (Mima waves!)

I'd like to introduce myself. After years of being a Loose Id reader, I'm now pinching myself at having finished edits on my coming-soon-book: In Service. If someone had told me 2 years ago I'd be multi-published and have thirteen works-in-progress at my middle age, I'd have shrugged and said it was a nice dream. A year ago I reached outside of my journals and started the journey from dream to reality. And here I am, author at Loose Id.

Since I was at the Olympics when the end of one of my favorite shows finaled, my mom got the job of taping it. I just got around to watching Joshua's simple statement at the end of "So You Think You Can Dance." It was the usual uplifting thing about believing in your dreams, never quitting, and listening to your heart. And it made me cry.

Ok, so I cry easily. But still. Some human messages are universally appealing, no matter how trite. They got trite because everyone wants to believe. Sometimes hard work pays off. Sometimes a woman who had never had another soul read her writing emails a manuscript to the amazing world of epublishing and gets accepted. And every once in awhile, a kick ass heroine gets to roll with 4 hot guys in a galaxy far, far away. Doesn't that rock?

Mima says don't quit. Be who you are and fight for what you want. It's hard, and it's worth it.
www.mimawithin.com

New Release: Into The Night by Caitlyn Willows

INTO THE NIGHT
Book 2 - Into The Heart Series
by Caitlyn Willows
Erotic Romance - Paranormal - Shape-shifter
September 2008
Cover Artist - Marci Gass
Loose Id
ISBN 978-1-59632-770-2

It’s an experience too farfetched to be real, but Trina Tate knows she holds the memories of another woman's soul. Memories that cry out to be with the man, the king she once loved. Drawn to the park each night Trina watches shape-shifting black jaguars running...and mating...and craves to be a part of that. Is she shifting herself or is that too only memory?

Wyatt Caldwell has resolved himself to a life without his soulmate. He's lost the love of his life twice. Duty now occupies him -- duty as head of Braden Institute, duty as leader of the shape-shifters. But once he sees Trina roaming, searching the park fully nude, body and soul calling for his touch. How could he possibly resist?

Excerpt:

Trina pulled in a hard breath. A thousand different scents assaulted her. She shook her head to clear it and tumbled to one side. Vertigo. Damn, it was happening again. Trina caught herself before she fell and eased down onto the cool grass. Nausea roiled in her stomach. She wrapped her arms around her midriff in a desperate attempt to keep from throwing up. The buzz in her head grew to a roar. She squeezed her eyes shut against the pain she knew was coming. It slammed into the back of her skull with the force of a sledgehammer.

She tucked into a fetal position, shaking arms clutching her knees. Blackness clouded her mind, and she felt herself drop into a void. Her body convulsed, as if it were trying to leave the confines of her skin. Trina couldn’t say if the seizure was real or just the workings of her troubled mind. Finally, the sensation passed, and she peeled her eyelids open.

She was sprawled on the ground, her fingers digging into the soft grass like a lifeline. Deep gouges bloodied her forearms. She panted, as if she’d run a marathon, each hard breath amplified as the pain in her head drifted away.

Trina pushed herself upright. She felt weak now, every movement an effort. Braced against the tree once more, she hugged her knees. This was why she'd sought the jaguar shape-shifters out. She wanted answers. Needed them. Except the pull of sex, the smell of sweat and hormones, the magic of whatever they were, had taken over instead. She’d been compelled to strip off her clothes, to watch, to join them.

Then Wyatt had been upon her, tracking her, reeking of sex and maleness, asserting his dominance. And she caved, letting him do whatever he wished, take whatever he wanted. The loss of control, the total submission, affected her in ways she’d never imagined. The old Trina would have nipped that in the bud without blinking. But this person she’d become, this person she didn’t recognize…

She buried her face in her hands to squelch the rush of tears. Trina didn’t know what she’d become. She needed help -- their help. Somehow she had to convince them to do so, convince them she wasn’t crazy or nosy or whatever she’d been before. She needed to convince herself, too. She didn’t know which task was harder, getting someone to believe she'd changed, or trying to believe it herself.

No, she knew what was hardest -- asking for help in the first place. It’d taken her a great deal of soul-searching to get to this point -- finding the clan and following them. She couldn’t let the opportunity pass now. The chances of finding them again would be few after tonight; they’d be more watchful now that she’d gotten too close. Of course, Trina could always corner Wyatt at the institute.

Just like he could corner me.

Trina’s pulse leaped at the thought. She hugged herself at the memory -- the promise -- of his hard, hot body looming over hers. Here was a man who took control without asking, who took it because it was his right. If he could do all this to her in the space of an hour and with an audience, what would he do if he had privacy and all the time in the world? The things he could do to her body! The things he could do to her heart.

She shook her head. No, being alone with Wyatt Caldwell was a big mistake. It was better to get this over with tonight. To make the shape-shifters listen and give her the answers she needed.

If they could.

Trina pushed to her feet and brushed her hands down her T-shirt. Her ragged nails snagged on the cotton. Her forearms stung. She didn’t want to see how much damage she’d done to herself while she was out of it. The truly bizarre thing was that, by morning, any sign of injury would be gone anyway.

It was one of those new mysteries happening to her, like how she could now see in the dark, how her body healed overnight, how her sense of smell rivaled that of a bloodhound. She’d learned to accept the enhanced abilities; after all, what other choice did she have? But the isolation, turmoil, and confusion they caused were driving her slowly insane. Or maybe she’d always been close to the edge, and these events were accelerating her decline. The last few nights she'd spent watching the jaguars was the first time she’d felt connected to anything in six months. No wonder she’d hesitated to shatter that by approaching them.

God, you’re pathetic.

Trina winced at the words her conscience threw at her. The last time she’d heard those exact words had set her on a course from which she’d sworn she'd never deviate. Never again was she going to be the victim in any way, shape, or form.

Trina sighed. That decision had isolated her as well. How ironic she’d be suffering this -- she looked at her hands -- whatever this was, now.

She lifted her chin and tried to catch the clan’s scent. A cacophony of smells slammed into her -- the zoo, the residue from the autumn fires, the ocean, vehicle exhaust. Blood.

Fresh nausea clenched her stomach before she considered it was probably her own blood filtering into the mix. She’d only had six months to learn how to deal with a super-sensitized sniffer. Sorting smells in the rain forest was vastly different than doing so in the city.

Trina shook her head. No, this was a lot of blood. Something big had been killed and recently, too, since the stench of decomposition hadn’t set in. Now that was a smell she’d never had a problem identifying. Living in the rain forest, life and death were never more than a hundred yards away, and nature quickly reabsorbed the loss. But this…

She debated on whether to call the police. The conversation played in her mind. I think something’s dead. No, I don’t know what. I don’t know if it’s a person. No, I don’t know where. Somewhere in Balboa Park. No, I’m not a fucking psychic. This isn’t a crank call.

Trina sighed and let it go. Without specifics, there wasn’t anything she could do to help. She clenched her fist against her thigh and forced her attention on finding the clan. Except too many scents vied for her attention, making it difficult to sort them out.

Now what? Did she wander the park, hoping to run into them? Disillusioned, she wrapped her arms around her midriff as she determined her next move. Wyatt’s scent drifted upward. Trina smiled. Of course, he’d been all over her. His scent would naturally be on her.

She inhaled and felt a rush of goose bumps over her skin. Her breath hitched as her body remembered the hard thrust of his body. She scuffed her hands over her arms in a futile attempt to banish the desire burning inside and then lifted her nose to the air to catch Wyatt’s scent.

There. Trina expanded her senses and caught a whiff of the rest of the clan. They’d congregated not too far away. Pulling in a breath and warning her libido against getting sidetracked, she headed in that direction.

DEATH OF A PIRATE KING by Josh Lanyon

New today from Loose Id.



BLURB:
Gay bookseller and reluctant amateur sleuth Adrien English's writing
career is suddenly taking off. His first novel, Murder Will Out, has
been optioned by notorious Hollywood actor Paul Kane. But when murder
makes an appearance at a dinner party, who should be called in but
Adrien's former lover, handsome closeted detective Jake Riordan, now
a Lieutenant with LAPD -- which may just drive Adrien's new
boyfriend, sexy UCLA professor Guy Snowden, to commit a murder of his
own.

I crossed the brick courtyard, climbed into my Forester and started
down the long drive through what looked like a private park.

Positioned outside the gates at the bottom of the driveway was a
silver unmarked police car, prickling with antennae. Jake Riordan
leaned against the side of the car, arms folded, clearly waiting.

I pulled through the gates and parked beside his car, rolling down my
window.

"Well, well," he said. "This can't be a coincidence."

"It could," I said. "The odds aren't high, but they do exist."

"Uh huh." His face was impassive, and I felt a flare of nerves. I
think it was nerves; certainly I knew first hand just how unpleasant
he could make himself.

"So you're trying to tell me that this is just a sympathy call and
you're not thinking of sticking your nose into this investigation?"

I didn't say anything. According to Paul Kane my asking a few
questions wasn't supposed to be a problem, but here Jake was, and
that generally spelled p-r-o-b-l-e-m in my book.

Into my silence, he said, "You mean like you kept your nose out of
the Grimaldi investigation?"

"Sure," I said warily.

He snorted. "You'd think with all the practice you'd be better at
lying."

"My lies?" I said, forgetting caution in an irrational surge of anger
as I remembered Paul Kane admitting that Jake had been fucking him
all the time he had been fucking me.


He straightened up at whatever he read in my face. I hoped we weren't
in for another wrestling match because, really, what would the
neighbors think? Even in Bel Air, where they say celebrities get away
with murder, there were standards.

I said, "Maybe I was invited over here."

"Maybe you were," he agreed, and it dawned on me that despite the
loose and ready-for-anything stance, he wasn't angry. He should have
been. The old Jake would have been. But he didn't even seem
irritated. He seemed…well, the truth was I didn't know what he
seemed. I couldn't read him. And that, more than anything, confirmed
for me how much time had passed since we were together. "Together"
being relative.

It was painful and it was freeing at the same time.

"Maybe me and Mrs. Jones, we got a thing going on," I said.

His mouth twitched into that reluctant, wry half-smile I remembered
so well. "I hope not," he said. "That would make you a prime suspect
in Mr. Jones's murder."

"I thought I already was."

Astonishingly, he said, "Yeah. Well. Maybe we should talk."

"Is that why you're waiting here?"

"I'm waiting for Alonzo," he said. "He's late." He checked his watch,
and I found myself staring at his wedding ring again. Not that it was
particularly flashy, but it kept catching my eye. "It's nearly
lunchtime. Let's go grab something to eat."

I didn't want to have lunch with him. I didn't want to ever see him
again, but I needed to hear what he had to say, so I nodded and
rolled up my window.

I followed him to the Beverly Glen Deli at the top of Beverly Glen
Boulevard just below Mulholland Drive.

We got a table on the patio. The sun was already warm on this late
June morning, which was fine with me; I felt like I'd been cold ever
since I got out of the hospital. Jake sat back in his chair, studying
me, and I studied him right back.

What was his secret? Did he get vitamin B shots? How the hell did he
keep up with all the men and women and barnyard animals in his life?
And if he'd intended to continue playing dangerous liaisons with Paul
Kane, what about all that bullshit about breaking off with me because
he wanted a real marriage? It didn't make sense -- even from Jake's
admittedly screwy point of view.

Or maybe he hadn't intended to continue with Kane. Maybe nine-to-five
normal had just proven harder than Jake anticipated. Two years ago,
desperate for a family and a "normal" life, he'd broken off his
relationship with me in order to marry policewoman Kate Keegan. End
of story. A few months later I'd learned from his partner Paul Chan,
a member of the writing group I ran at the bookstore, that Kate had
miscarried and returned to duty. I guess there was still a chance of
the family Jake always wanted, but the fact that he had resumed his
old extra-curricular activities -- had, apparently never broken them
completely off -- seemed to limit his chances of success.

I wondered if I'd have still managed to restrain myself from outing
him to Detective Alonzo if I'd known then about the five years with
Paul Kane. I wanted to think I was that chivalrous, but I wasn't sure.
The waitress appeared and handed us menus. I ordered orange juice.
Jake ordered coffee, then his cell phone rang. "Alonzo," he said, and
he excused himself.

I watched the locals come and go in their Mercedes and Maseratis
picking up their take out orders of lox and cream cheese or corned
beef sandwiches. Even the car exhaust smelled more expensive in Bel
Air.

Jake returned a few minutes later and sat down again.

Neither of us said anything. It was the strangest moment. I thought
of all the times I had longed for something as simple as going to eat
with him that he didn't spend the entire time worrying about somebody
he knew seeing us together; and I thought of how we had never run out
of things to say to each other until today.

Picking On The Neighbors

Here's a non news flash. Every writer on the planet knows this is a solitary business. Conferences and chapter meetings and critique groups aside, what we create has to be done in private if the muse is going to have full rein. Yes, I've pounded out words with children underfoot, but I don't recommend it. We writers have little enough sanity and much as we love our offspring, they're best known for their ability to interrupt.
So what does this have to do with picking on my neighbors? Yesterday morning I attended a community meeting which gave me a fabulous opportunity to observe people who feel passionately one way or another about a hot topic. The topic isn't important and I'm keeping a rein on my opinions (which are the right ones, of course) because I'll digress. In brief, people are deeply committed to their community, their home values, sense of security, etc, etc. As a result, this particular issue cut through political correctness and at times brought out the claws.
As for me, when I wasn't mentally agreeing or disagreeing with the various speakers, I was taking writerly notes. Examples: the elderly man whose fortunately short speech was completely off-topic and whose exposed butt crack totally distracted me. Then there was the immaculately put together snob (yes, personal opinion here) who found fault with everything from city hall to the federal government. Next up the articulate and calm board member whose reactions to criticism of the board was to detail why things were being done the way they were. Out of no where came the daughter of the woman whose home-based enterprise caused all the ruckus. Her empassioned compliments, although over-the-top were a powerful example of committment and family loyalty.
No, there weren't any romantic or erotic-type heroes in attendance although the man who came on his motorcycle and wore a leather jacket, had possibilities. Just cut off about 40 years and twice that many pounds. I could merge the motorcycle and jacket with the board member's intelligence. And nothing close to a heroine although I'd love to use elements of the daughter's passion. Maybe I will. Yes, I know I will.
Yesterday had nothing to do with erotica, just the reminder I need that the human beast comes in infinite forms. And I'm free to pull whatever elements I need for my fiction out of those beasts.
On another note, after a hefty rewrite, my contribution to Loose IDs salute to the military called Midnight Soldier is just about ready to go to press--which means November.
Vonna
www.VonnaHarper.com

Author Interview: Renae Johnson

Author Name: Renae Johnson
Year started writing for LI: 2008
Titles: “Heavenly Bodies” (featured in the anthology Going Up, Going Down, released July 22nd)
Web Page: www.renaejohnson.net


What genre do you write in, and why? :
I like to call it Full-figured Paranormal Sexy Romantic Comedy. Why? Well, for one thing, I only write plus-sized heroines (I’m very passionate about size acceptance, and big girls are sexy, too, IMO). For another, I like to use slightly paranormal elements, such as a hot guardian angel, or a selkie, faeries, witchcraft, tarot, dreams, etc. And I think “sexy romantic comedy” is pretty self-explanatory. J

How much time do you spend writing every week? :
It depends, really. I tend to be a “blitz writer,” meaning I like to take a huge chunk of time—say a free Saturday—and spend it writing. Hard and fast schedules don’t work for me, but I try to spend at least five hours a week writing.

What was the first story you ever wrote about? (not nec. first published story) :
I’ve been writing since before I started kindergarten, and I honestly can’t remember back that far. However, I do remember the first romance I wrote. It was an historical romance set in the American plains about a wagon train going to California. I was in high school, and it was bad. Really bad.

How do you judge the effectiveness of the sensual scenes in your stories? :
Well, I figure if it’s turning me on that’s a good thing. ;-) No, in all seriousness, I’ll send my stories out to some writer friends who’s opinions I trust, and if they respond with a, “That was a hot!” I know I’m on the right track.


Do you ever try out the sexual positions you write to make sure of accuracy? :
I was just talking to someone about this the other day… I think that when you’re writing any sort of physical action scene, it helps to “try it out” to make sure the body can make certain movements or comfortably be in certain positions. Illustrated books also help, though.


Ever been told, Um...sweetie, that's not how it works? :
Not yet. I’m sure I’ll get there at some point, though.

What one word best describes your toy collection? :
Colorful. *wink*

Favourite candy while writing? :
Chocolate, of course. Dark chocolate, to be more specific.

Where did your most unusual plot idea come from? :
Y’know, I’m not sure. They come from all different kinds of places, i.e. conversations with friends, dreams, news stories, etc.

What inspires you to write? :
The voices in my head that won’t shut up. Seriously. I have to get them out somehow.

What music inspires your writing? :
It depends upon what I’m writing, or what kind of scene I’m writing. If I’m writing a sensual scene, I’ve found that Maroon 5 really does it for me (I swear Songs about Jane is baby-making music).

Plotter or a Pantser? :
Pantser. All the way.

Does your cat insist on sitting on your keyboard like mine does? :
If I had a cat, he/she probably would. Luckily, my plants tend to stay where they’re put.

What is your most embarrassing moment as an erotic romance author? :
Explaining it to my mom….

Most challenging place you've ever written a spicy scene? :
At work, during lunch, while one of my male coworkers was wiggling his eyebrows at me after reading the opening line of the story. Talk about uncomfortable.

When you get stuck, how do you find your way back to the writing? :
I step away for a while, fiddle around on the internet, pick up someone else’s book, listen to some music, take a drive (well, before gas prices climbed so high), talk to some friends on AIM or via email.

The Personal stuff:

Any outrageous liaisons in your past?
Hmmm. Not really (unless you count that threesome…)

Where's the most unusual place you ever managed to have sex? :
Behind a convenience store right off the interstate.

What was the most romantic meal you've eaten? :
He had chicken, I had a cheeseburger, but he’d lit candles on the table and turned out all the other lights. Proof positive that romance is all about atmosphere and the person you’re with.

What kind of books do you read for fun? :
Romantic comedy, some chick lit, Lisa Kleypas, erotica, urban fantasy.

Is your real life anything like your stories? What about your fantasies? :
My non-erotic stories are probably closer to my real life, whereas my erotic stories are probably closer to my fantasies. Funny how it works out that way. J

Soulmates? Do you believe? :
Yes, but not necessarily in the romantic sense (gasp! I know, that’s probably sacrilege for an erotic romance writer, but still). Sometimes, you meet someone who is very much your soul mate, but with whom there is no physical attraction/romantic feeling whatsoever. However, there is something to be said for that kind of mental and emotional intimacy with someone, and I do believe that you can find that with someone you are attracted to (just not always).

Sex with anyone famous? :
Only in my dreams…

Cake or Pie? Coke or Pepsi? Tea or Coffee? :
Key lime pie. Dr. Pepper (hey, I’m from Texas!). Sweet tea (again, I’m from Texas!) or frappuccino.

New Release: Service Call by Cheryl Dragon

Service Call==exploring new territory!

So BDSM is not new territory for me, but Sci-fi is! I’m a huge Star Trek fan so I was cautious about dipping my toe into the genre. In Service Call, I got to explore an Earth Colony with a very sexual hang up. They have NO sex drive!

Is it a government conspiracy by the utopian leaders? Is it an environmental problem? Our heroine Em wants to find out if only the government will let her. But she can’t study it directly. As a sexual throwback, she must keep her passionate secret and do the best she can with her service droid. Looking to upgrade his programs, Em gets more than she imagined when Alex Coster shows up. The earth male is highly sexual and the Dom she’s always craved. A dream come true, she has the sexual outlet she needs and gets closer to being allowed her research. Alex wants to take her back to Earth but she clings to hope until the very end when she’s suspected of being a sexual throwback. The government is on to her and she has to make a desperate escape attempt.

The fun in writing this book was mixing a BDSM lifestyle with a world that has no sexual context or norm. It’s both freeing and overwhelming for the characters to deal with the extremes. In Service Call, I have fun giving the heroine a sex droid that isn’t programmed for sex and as he gets upgraded you see the change in the group dynamic.

The cover is steamy and the book is kinky fun! Hope you enjoy it as wellJ
Here’s the data:
BLURB:
Alex’s life is changed forever when he visits the Earth colony of Ruar to simply upgrade Em’s droid. A planet whose population has no sex drive, Ruar is a place most Earth residents never visit. Within moments of meeting Em, Alex realizes that she has passion equal to his and a low level droid will never dominate her properly.

Em is quickly torn between the Dom who can fulfill her every need and her lifelong mission to help her people She must hide her sexuality and the true purpose of her droid from the world. Alex offers fantasies and freedoms no droid can match. But the government is growing suspicious of Alex and Em.

Excerpt Link: http://www.loose-id.com/CDSeCaex.aspx
Buy Link: http://www.loose-id.com/detail.aspx?ID=785
Have a great evening everyone!
Cheryl Dragon
http://www.cheryldragon.com/

Hot Topic: Female Orgasms

Today's Topic:

Female Orgasms

Do you think most women prefer clitoral or vaginal orgasms, and why? Do you even know the difference?

Hot Topic: Incest in romance

Today's Topic:

Incest-themed romance novels...

If everyone hates them so much, why are they always on bestseller lists?