It’s going to be a great week.
I have to thank Patricia for letting me chat a bit on her blog today (no thank you!). I mean how can I not be thrilled to be asked about my new erotic romance MASQUE? Especially when this story was inspired by Edgar Allan Poe’s short story “The Masque of the Red Death” first published in 1842? Yes, I write erotic romances inspired by the classics. I can’t help it. I love both J
The biggest challenge in using classic literature as inspiration is figuring out how to take key elements of the story and bring them to contemporary times. In the case of MASQUE, I decided that my hero would remain a Victorian era hero in Nova Scotia and my heroine would be a present day woman from America. There is just something about a man from the past that appears to be just a bit more male and little less civilized. Except with Synn, my hero. He is very civilized, but also very well versed in the various sexual activities involved in the Masque.
Another way I chose to connect the original story with present day was to keep the Abbey that Poe describes in his story, complete with iron gates, crenellated roof top and seven colored entertainment rooms. For Rena, the heroine, this is the perfect building to renovate for her proposed haunted bed-and-breakfast. Of course the resident ghosts, and there are many, are dressed to the nines in period clothing complete with bustles, puffed shoulders, high waistcoats and top hats.
Plus, I had to include the masque that Poe’s original story featured. I even made up my own rules. At Synn’s masque, anyone who puts aside their mask (held on a stick) or removes their mask (tied on with black ribbon) will reveal their name. However, if they keep their mask on, then their name is not given. Synn is careful to insure that Rena wears her mask in every one of the Pleasure Rooms, and each room requires she wear a different mask. Some of her masks include a simple peach, a gold butterfly, and one with peacock feathers.
So to celebrate MASQUE, it seemed only fair that I allow my readers the chance to win a beautiful Venetian mask made in Italy. Leave me a comment and let me know if there are any classic stories that you love. Maybe it will give me ideas for future stories J
Here’s a peek inside the MASQUE. Enjoy, Lexi
An image of the lone man standing on the battlements crowded her head. “Do you mind if I run upstairs? I really want to see the sunset.”
Valerie took three loaves of bread from the first bag. “Yeah, yeah, go. But don’t expect me to make dinner.”
“That’s a deal.” Spinning around, Rena ran up the stairs to her wing of the Abbey. Striding through the hallway toward the back, she found another set of stairs leading to the floor above, which had a similar hall. By the time she reached the end of that hall, she was at the front of the Abbey again, only here there was a stone spiral staircase. Carefully, she ascended.
At the top, a wooden door stood open and she stepped outside into the fading light of day, but it wasn’t the sunset that arrested her attention. Synn stood, one foot braced on an embrasure, one hand resting on the crenellated stone of the battlement. The breeze lifted his long brown hair away from his face and off his shoulders…his very bare shoulders.
Oh shit. She hadn’t expected his back to be so broad and muscular. His biceps stood in stark relief as if he worked construction. Below his narrow waist, his firm ass and muscular thighs were outlined by his tight gray pantaloons, if she had the term right. She’d bet the boots he wore were Hessians because those were the only nineteenth-century boots she’d heard of that rose to the knee. To call the man handsome would be to belittle his sculpted perfection, and her heart increased its beat as raw, sexual attraction rifled through her limbs.
He brought his arm down, causing the muscles in his back to ripple before he turned to catch her staring.
Her gaze shifted to his eyes and for a moment they revealed such heartbreaking anguish that all sexual heat fled and her stomach tightened into a sorrowful knot. He shuttered his gaze and smirked. “Were you looking for something?”
Confused, and more than a little distracted by the man’s emotions and his highly defined pectoral muscles, one of which had a fist-sized dark spot, she grasped for logic. “Yes, the sunset.”
“Ah, then you are just in time.” He stepped to the side, bowed and swept his hand toward the battlement. “It’s ready for you, my lady.”
She searched his eyes for any sign that he made fun of her, but found only sincerity. “Thank you.”
She stepped up to the place next to him as indicated and gazed across the town. As she suspected, the ocean was a few blocks past the shops and it glittered red as the setting sun shimmered off its dark surface, its waves lifting and lowering the dazzling color as it moved.
“This is breathtaking.”
“Yes, it is.”
His tone made her glance up, and she found him staring at her. She swallowed.
He released her hair from its clip and the breeze swept it from her face. She couldn’t have looked away from his eyes even if the sun had turned green.
He cupped her jaw with his hand. “You are exquisite.”
Her breath hitched at his words, but her mouth parted as his face drew closer to hers. When their lips were but a breath away, he spoke again. “You are made for passion, Rena.”
She let her eyes close, his words shooting pure desire through her, and then his full lips were upon hers. It was not a gentle kiss, but neither was it harsh or demanding, simply controlled. The hand holding her face encouraged her to open her lips and she did.
She grasped his biceps as his tongue swept into her mouth to explore. He tasted like cinnamon spice but not sweet. When his arm snaked around her waist and pulled her closer, she entwined her arms around his neck, her body tight against his hard one. Unable to stem the growing need building inside her, she pressed her hips into his. A long, hard cock greeted her. She wanted him.
Synn groaned and released her, stepping away.
She grabbed at the embrasure to keep herself from falling on her ass. What the hell was that?
He turned toward the sunset again, his body in perfect profile, his hands clenched at his sides.
Not sure if she was upset because he stopped the kiss or because he started it in the first place, she gritted her teeth. Her body ached for release and she wanted him to provide it, no matter what her mind said. Her sexual frustration gave her a bravery she rarely had. “Why did you stop kissing me?” She had hoped to sound matter-of-fact, but hurt crept into her voice. Did he find her beneath him?
He remained motionless, speaking to the horizon. “If I didn’t stop now, I wouldn’t be able to. You are not ready for me yet.”
To buy MASQUE:
Ellora’s Cave http://www.ellorascave.com/masque.html
For more information about Lexi Post:
Seven sisters are entwined in a legacy that calls to each of them, one by one, to find their mates from the Valendite Breed, a group of near-immortal men, and secure their place in history. The trouble now is Paige, a professional pastry chef, who has too much pride to go down easily. When confronted by her mate, she first convinces him to wait.
Donovan agrees to Paige’s plan until things around him start to go wrong. He’s losing his concentration, making mistakes on critical missions for the Terrorist Elimination Unit (TEU), and now he’s assigned as Paige’s bodyguard while she prepares to compete in an International Baking Competition.
Donovan’s only weakness is his need for a mate to carry on the Breed. Now that he’s found Paige, the time has come for him to claim his mate. Taking Paige in hand might be the only choice he has as forces continue to mount against the Breed. Their Pronouncement will need to be sooner rather than later and it’s up to Donovan to convince Paige.
Enjoy a particularly decadent EXCERPT:
Donovan dangled his fork laden with chocolate cake in front of Paige. “Take a bite.”
“I can feed myself,” Paige snipped.
“I know. I just wanted to have some fun. Play along, Principessa.”
With the slightest hesitation, Paige opened her mouth and took in the bite. She moaned her pleasure as she closed her mouth and savored the rich decadence as Donovan pulled the fork from between her lips. His eyes were fixated on her mouth even as he took another forkful and placed it in his own mouth.
“Delicious,” Donovan’s voice was deep and rough, full of the lust he was finding difficult to reign in.
He fed them alternating bites and watched as she enjoyed the moment. For once, she almost seemed unconcerned, unhurried and, dare he suggest it, relaxed. Unable to stop himself, Donovan leaned in to lick a tiny smudge of the chocolate sauce from her lip. When she didn’t flinch—thank the Goddess—he brushed his lips against hers, this time for a kiss. It was gentle and slow at first, until she responded with her own need, and then he couldn’t help but deepen the kiss. Paige sighed ever so gently and opened to him. He ran his tongue along her lips and inside her mouth. She was delicious; a tempting blend of chocolate and desire.
Touching her after being denied all this time made him tremble with need. She was an exquisite beauty and yet…magical. It was as if he held a fairy in his palm, so delicate and soft. Donovan wanted to feel this power between them for all time. His mate was spectacular.
Paige is an award-winning, world-renowned pastry chef. In this scene, she and Donovan share one of her famous Chocolate Lava Cakes. They’re her sisters’ favorite dessert. They love them so much that Paige always makes batches of seven so there’s one for each sister. Why not try her recipe for the special people in your lives?
Individual Chocolate Lava Cakes
Yields: Seven (7) Servings
- 1 1/2 60% Cacao Bittersweet Chocolate Baking Bars
- 2 eggs
- 1/4 cup heavy cream
- 8 tablespoons (1 stick) unsalted butter
- 2 egg yolks
- 1/3 cup sugar
- 1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
- 1/4 cup cake flour
For lava centers, melt 2 ounces of chocolate (1/2 a baking bar) and cream in double boiler. Whisk gently to blend. Refrigerate 2 hours or until firm. Form into 7 balls; refrigerate until needed.
For cakes, heat oven to 400°F. Spray seven 4-ounce custard cups with cooking spray. Melt 4 ounces of chocolate (recommend Ghirardelli baking bar) and butter in double boiler. Whisk gently to blend. With electric mixer, whisk eggs, yolks, sugar, and vanilla on high speed for 5 minutes or until thickened. Fold melted chocolate mixture and flour into egg mixture. Spoon cake batter into custard cups. Place a chocolate ball in middle of each.
Bake approximately 15 minutes. Cake should be firm to touch. Let it sit for 5 minutes. Run a small, sharp knife around inside of each custard cup, place a plate on top, flip and remove. To make it pretty, garnish with raspberries or strawberries and a spoonful of whipped cream.
Series: Seven Sin Sisters Series, Book Four
Genre: Erotic Paranormal Romance
Elements: Adult language/ Explicit Sex/ Consensual Adult Spanking
Author: Paloma Beck
Publisher: Secret Cravings Publishing
Page Count: 94 pages
SERIES READING ORDER
• Lustful Cravings, Seven Sin Sisters, book one (8/2012)
• Eternal Envy, Seven Sin Sisters, book two (10/ 2012)
• Holiday Gem, Seven Sin Sisters, book three (12/2012)
• Vanished Pride, Seven Sin Sisters, book four (2/2013)
• Frozen Fury, Seven Sin Sisters, book five (anticipated 4/2013)
AUTHOR BIO & LINKS
Paloma Beck is a Romance Author living a life of contradiction… she’s a happily married carpooling mom writing erotic romance. It’s almost naughty!
Paloma writes in both the Contemporary and Paranormal realms, journaling the stories her characters tell her, and they are anything but PG. She dabbles in vampires, witches, ménage, spanking and bdsm – all in her books, of course. Paloma believes a daily dose of espresso and a good book make any day better.
LATER, talk to Paloma on any of these sites:
FACEBOOK PAGE: http://www.facebook.com/SevenSinSistersSeries
Did you ever have a song or story in your head that grabbed on and wouldn’t let go? It’s like that when you’re a writer. It’s a tune, phrase, or idea that you can’t seem to shake.
Like Smelly Cat here. For those of you who were and are faithful followers of the show Friends, know it by heart.
I might not have know all the songs I heard on the radio, but I knew this one.
It had three things going for it.
(1) It was on a hit show
(2) It had some of the simplest and ridiculous lyrics ever
(3) And the performer couldn’t sing (except when she was dubbed in this video)
So how do you as a writer make sure your characters are memorable? Well, I wouldn’t suggest writing something as nuts as Smelly Cat, but I would think about pushing your characters outside their boundaries. Make them reach farther for their goals, get into the ridiculous at times, and maybe even give them a nervous twitch, a catchy phrase, or even a little song–but come up with your own Smelly Cat.
So how do you do that as a writer? How do you make an impact in the writing world when there are
Hello, readers. My name is Elaine Cantrell, and I’d like to thank Patricia for letting me blog for her. With Valentine’s Day looming in front of us, I thought I’d give you a famous lovers quiz. How many of these lovers do you know? The answers are at the bottom of the page. Don’t peek.
1. He was a Roman general, and she was the queen of Egypt.
2. Their love destroyed Camelot.
3. He gave up his throne for her because he couldn’t marry a divorced woman.
4. They met each other while filming a movie about ancient Egypt. They married once, divorced, and then married again.
5. Both star crossed lovers died in this Shakespearean tale which told of a bitter feud between two noble families.
6. She lost him, but tomorrow is another day.
7. A short man, he ruled the French Empire, but he divorced his true love because she couldn’t bear him a child.
8. They were two gangsters who enjoyed robbing banks.
9. The king of rock and roll, he married a girl he met while he was in the army.
10. He’s faster than a speeding bullet, and she keeps trying to guess his secret identity.
11. They fell into a burning ring of fire.
12. He lived in the jungle and swung through the trees, but she loved him anyway.
13. She was a governess who fell for a man with a dreadful secret hidden in the attic.
14. She gave him an apple that he wasn’t supposed to eat.
15. He was only a stable boy, but he loved her with all of his heart. Then she married another man.
16. He was the captain of The Millennium Falcon, and she was a princess on a mission.
17. She wrote a book called A New Leaf, and he went to the bookstore and bought the first one on the shelf even though they had plenty of copies at home.
1. Antony and Cleopatra
2. Lancelot and Guinevere
3. Edward VIII and Wallis Warfield Simpson
4. Richard Burton and Elizabeth Taylor
5. Romeo and Juliet
6. Rhett Butler and Scarlet O’Hara
7. Napoleon and Josephine
8. Bonnie and Clyde
9. Elvis Presley and Priscilla Beaulieu
10. Superman and Lois Lane
11. Johnny Cash and June Carter
12. Tarzan and Jane
13. Edward Rochester and Jane Eyre
14. Adam and Eve
15. Heathcliff and Cathy
16. Han Solo and Princess Leia
17. Elaine Cantrell and Wallace (Okay, we aren’t famous, but hey, a girl can dream.)
I update my blog frequently.
Don’t go anywhere. Elaine sent Extras!!!!!
I wanted to share a Valentine excerpt with you, but I don’t really have one. How about this unedited excerpt from my upcoming Astraea Press release The Enchanted? This is the opening scene. The Enchanted is a fantasy romance.
King Bowdyn sprang from his throne and paced around the room like a crazed tiger as his son knelt before the huge golden throne studded with crimson and emerald stones. “Perhaps you did not understand me, Alan,” he snarled. His hands clenched into fists held rigidly to his side. “This is not a request, but a command. You will marry Lady Maybina before the next full moon has passed.”
Alan dared not raise his eyes from the floor. “Father, I do not…”
“Silence!” the king roared. “I have respected your wishes for three years now, but my patience is at an end. You will wed Lady Maybina as I have commanded.”
“Father, having married once for love, I have no desire to marry a woman whom I have never met! Can you not understand? Think of the love you share with my mother. Is it so bad that I desire the same kind of relationship?”
The king’s face turned purple, but he took a deep breath and returned to sit upon his throne. He wiped his face with a lace-trimmed handkerchief and growled, “I have never understood you. You insisted on marrying a commoner, a nobody, and now that death has released you from your vows you refuse to marry a woman of your own station.”
Alan’s heart thudded in his chest. How far could he push his father? With Bowdyn one could never be sure. “I am sorry to disappoint you.”
“The kingdom needs heirs. The wedding will proceed as I have planned.”
“Enough!” Bowdyn shouted. His eyes bulged with the force of his scream.
Megan’s had a really bad day. She’s decided she’d rather see if she can run in two inch heels and an oversized wedding dress than stand at the alter and say “I do.”
Now, she’s taken a wrong turn and ended up in the men’s room of the carwash she stopped at to get “just married” cleaned off her car.
This is where she meets Jacob Dante, the hero of our story:
Ever end up in a bathroom stall, in the men’s room, wearing your wedding dress on your wedding day?
“Are you okay in there?” A low voice echoed off the white tiles that decorated the room from floor to ceiling.
I could taste the salt from my tears as I tried to answer without sobbing … again. “Si.” I followed it with a quick, “Yes, I’m okay. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Um, because you’re in the men’s room.”
He cleared his throat. “You’re in drag … that’s cool.”
“Nope, just a bad day.” I lied through sobs.
My sticky hands still bore the result of a quick get–away. When I grabbed my steering wheel, during my escape, I discovered it covered with Vaseline. It certainly made gripping the wheel frustrating. With nothing to wipe my hands on, I’d turned into the first place I found.
A full service car wash.
After deciding on the quick wash, I’d handed over the keys to the attendant and made a beeline to the bathroom, but didn’t bother looking at the sign. It wasn’t until I’d locked myself in the stall, the urinals registered. But before I could leave, I’d heard a cough.
“You sure you’re okay?”
I tried to clean my palms with toilet paper, but the one–ply shredded in my hands. “Dammit! I’m fine. Just peachy.”
“Okay.” The sound of running water helped end the conversation and gave me a minute to collect my thoughts, remembering what transpired not half an hour earlier.
There I was, back in the church, the scene of my disaster.
“Do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?” the man in the starched collar asked.
The sparkle in my fiancé’s eyes faded before it dawned on me that something had gone very wrong. He stared at me.
“Did you say no?”
I blinked a few times. “What?”
Glancing sideways through my veil, I saw the pastor biting his lip.
“Did you ask me something?”
“Yes. I. Did.” His enunciation of each word, with staccato precision, made my brothers snicker.
Images of the drunken sister in the movie Sixteen Candles went through my mind as he continued. “Do you.” He pointed to me. “Megan Antonia Sayla, take this man.” He looked at, “Travis Michael Joseph Daniel Carter, to be—“
Travis’ mother cleared her throat. “The fourth.”
“Right.” The minister looked up, mumbled something and then returned to the service. “Travis Michael Joseph Daniel Carter. The fourth.” He smiled in her direction. “To be your lawfully wedded husband?”
I could feel the corners of my mouth lift as I took a deep breath, gazed into Travis’ eyes, and replied, “No.”
Yeah, I heard it that time. “Crap.”
Travis dropped my hands.
“What?” Mom screamed.
“Holy shit!” Dad stood up.
“I toll you, this not work. He not Italian.” My Italian grandmother, Nonna, crossed herself and started saying Hail Mary’s in her native tongue as her husband, Nonno, woke momentarily, then fell back to sleep.
“Mama. Zitto, per favore.” Turning to his mother, my dad placed his hands on her shoulders and eased her back onto the pew. “Be quiet.”
Mom’s Danish parents, we affectionately call her Bedste and him Morfar, began to speak to each other in their birth language, saying things like “What the hell just happened here?”, “Should we call the caterer?”, and “Can you freeze all that rice pudding?”
With all the sudden chaos, I don’t remember much until I ended up in this car wash bathroom talking to a total stranger. I shivered as a gust of frigid, January air whipped through the room. Looking up, I noticed a row of open windows.
The water stopped running and the automatic paper towel dispenser hummed.
“How do I get out of this?” I rubbed my arms with my hands in an attempt to get warm. “Now what do I do?”
A low, masculine chuckle brought me back to reality. “Probably need to get out of the men’s room, first.”
I leaned against the cold, tiled wall and deeply inhaled the cool, lemon–scented air. “Did you ever have one of those days you wish you could start over?”
“Are you talking on the phone or to me?”
“You.” Don’t ask what possessed me to talk to a stranger. Being in that stall, I blurted out, “I feel like I’m at confession, so just go with me on this.”
He laughed this time, his rich voice resonating. “That’s a first.”
“For me to be referred to as a priest.”
“Seems like a day of firsts. This is the first time I left a man at the altar. The first time I’ve been in the men’s room.”
“Busy day for both of us, especially me, now being a priest and all.”
Silence filled the room, again. When he said nothing else, I assumed he’d decided to leave, until I heard, “What’s troubling you, my child?”
“Seriously?” Did he really want to know? Why? Was he really a priest?
“Sure, unless you’re not Catholic. Then you’re better off going to therapy or drinking.”
I crossed myself. “Forgive me, Father, it’s been six months since my last confession.”
“Is that a long time?”
“If you were a man of the cloth, you’d know that’s a horribly long time.”
I suppressed a giggle. “It can be. Most people go weekly. Daily.”
“Geez, who has time for that much guilt?”
“I guess I only know happy, guilt–free Catholics.”
“No Catholic is guilt–free. Guilt is part of the tradition.” And I felt plenty guilty today. I twisted the beading of my wedding dress between my fingers.
“You’re Catholic?” he asked.
“More like a Cathalutheran.”
He chuckled. “What’s that?”
“Catholic dad, Lutheran mom. We combined the two to get the best of both worlds.”
“Best of both worlds? Sounds very Hannah Montana–ish.” He cleared his throat. “My niece watches the show.”
“Right. During religious holidays, we have all the traditional food, but we pretend to ignore the sin of gluttony and gossip.” I bit my lip as my heart pounded in my ears. “Hence my six month absence from confession.”
“Right. I’m supposed to say something like ‘Six months? How many sins could you have committed in six months? Come back when,’ um … what does he say again?”
“I don’t understand.”
“Trying to remember how they did it in Zorro.”
My heart skipped a beat. “Which one? The one with Tyrone Powers or Antonio Banderas?”
“Aren’t they the same? Girl in a box. Guy isn’t a priest. He’s making it up as he goes.”
“Yeah.” Rarely had I met anyone who knew of the first talking Zorro movie, much less the confession scene. I smoothed down my dress. “Do you need help with movie lines? I’m pretty good at them.”
“No, wait. Next, he asked her if she’d broken any of the Ten Commandments.”
“Something like that.” The corners of my mouth rose. “Forgive me, Father, I have broken the fourth commandment.”
“You killed someone?” His accent changed to the melodious sound of the Spanish actor.
“That is not the fourth commandment, Father.”
“Oh, okay. Tell me in what way you broke the most sacred of God’s commandments?”
My parents’ faces flashed across my mind, my brothers, my family. A sob rose in my throat. “I dishonored my mother and father today.”
“That’s not so bad. Maybe they deserved it.”
“What?” I shook my head as I placed my hands over my mouth in an attempt to keep from losing it, again, but tears ran down my cheeks. “No, I don’t think so.”
“Tell me more, my child.”
“I … I don’t know what to say.” I depleted a roll of toilet paper as I tried to dry my face. After a few moments, I realized he’d been silent for a while. “You still there?”
“Yes. This is when he sees her through the screen, isn’t it?”
He cleared his throat. “I don’t think you want me looking between the stall doors.”
His chivalry surprised me. “Oh, I hadn’t thought of that.”
“It’s at the end of the scene before the captain of the guards shows up and screws it up.”
“Yeah, he’s a good bad guy.”
I took a deep breath as I tried to think. He may not want to look through the doors, but I’m generally nosy. No matter what this guy looked like, I was too curious to walk away without seeing his face. Kindness from a stranger had been an unexpected gift in my chaotic day. I needed to put a face with the voice.
“You okay?” he asked.
Frigid air whipped through the room, then a wave of hot. “Um, yeah, getting there.” As I maneuvered around in the stall, to get a better look, I saw the overhead heaters had clicked on, making pockets of the stall too hot and others too cold. Figures.
Without warning, my phone screamed “Hey Mickey!” An involuntary squeak escaped my lips and I wrestled to turn down the volume. The phone vibrated for a few moments while I got my breathing back to normal.
He laughed. “Whose ringtone is that?”
“My mom’s.” I sniffed. “She loves the 80’s.” There was nowhere to hide my phone as it jiggled again. I’d left my purse at the church, along with my wallet, my clothes, and my life.
It was amazing I’d made it out with my keys and phone.
Tears began to pool, again, as a few ran down my face.
“Ever wanted a do-over day?” I dried my face, only to pull away a makeup-covered wad of paper. Ugh.
“We all do.” Pause. “I guess this is one of those days?”
An escaped giggle filled the room. “Man, you’re good.”
“I’ve heard that before.”
“Show off.” My phone vibrated, again. I ignored it.
“Bad day, huh?”
“Yeah, but I’m sure his is worse.”
I took a slow, deep breath. “Why? He’s a nice guy and I left him at the altar. He’s still there, dealing with everyone, while I’m in a car wash bathroom confessional.”
“Hard to say. Neither of you had good luck today.”
Shaking my head, I almost broke the beading off my gown, as I wrapped the lace accents around my fingers. “It’s not his fault, really. It’s mine.”
I stomped my foot. “Why? Why? That’s the sixty–four thousand dollar question, isn’t it?”
“But you didn’t answer my question.”
“You sure you’re not a priest?”
“That’s not my question.”
“I know that, but you play the guilt card so well.”
“Believe me, I’m far from being a priest.”
My stomach knotted as the image of a very hurt Travis flashed through my mind. More tears. “When the preacher asked if ‘I do’, all I could think of was ‘I don’t’ and ‘I can’t.’” I sniffed and dabbed my wet face, again. “Please don’t ask me why. I truly don’t know.”
Enough time passed that I figured he thought I was some histrionic or spoiled bride–to–be and not worth the effort of an answer.
“You said he was a nice guy.”
I rested my head against the stall door. “He was.” I hiccupped. “I mean, he is.”
“But you said no. Maybe he’s a nice guy, just not the right guy.”
My heart slammed in my chest as I heard the words out loud. This guy couldn’t be more on the money. All this time I kept telling myself Travis was such a nice guy, but I never asked if he was the right one. “You sound like a chick flick movie.”
“I’ve got three sisters. I’ve been forced to watch my share of them. And Oprah.”
I liked the way his subtle, southern drawl lengthened his ‘I’s’. “I’ve got three brothers, so I’ve seen everything to do with aliens, losing your virginity in high school, the military, and superheroes.”
He chuckled. “Coming out of there anytime soon?”
“I probably should.” My tears finally slowed. After wiping my face again, and knowing I’d ruined the two–hundred dollar makeup session I had not three hours ago, I needed to look in the mirror. “All right, I’m coming out.”
“Wow. You’re coming out already? I am good.”
I could feel the corners of my mouth lift. “No. My vanity has taken over.”
“I need to look in the mirror, because I think I might resemble a drunken circus clown after smearing all this makeup.”
“That sounds … interesting.”
“Okay, I’m coming out.” I tried to straighten my overly beaded and ridiculously poufy dress. At least I’d opted not to wear the stupid petticoat before the service, much to my mother’s dismay. If not, I’d never have fit through the bathroom stall opening without getting snagged.
“Do you want me to leave?”
“Only if you don’t want to see a spazzed–out bride who probably looks like a circus freak.”
“I’ll take my chances.”
Taking a deep breath, I inhaled the lemon scented cleaner, stood up straight, and unlocked the door.
When I looked out, I saw him standing against the opposite wall with his hands stuffed in his pockets.
“You’re actually sticking around?” My hands fiddled with my phone. “Really?”
I paused as I caught a quick glimpse of him. He stood at least six–feet, brown hair, nice frame. Before I could get a better look, a glob of mascara and fake eyelashes clouded my vision. I pressed the wadded–up paper against my eye in an attempt to keep the makeup at bay. “Isn’t that a big no–no for confession? You’re not supposed to know what the confessor looks like. That’s part of the decompression process.”
He shrugged. “It’s not a secret. The priest knows who’s in the box, right?”
“You knew it was me in there, huh? Seems a bit unethical.” I dabbed at my eyes with a ball of toilet paper, clearing my line of sight for a second.
“You forget. I’m not a priest.
I’m so excited that Paranormal Lia Davis has dropped by to talk to us about her latest book, Winter Eve. This story is a great way to warm up on those cold winter nights.
There comes a time when setting your differences aside isn’t just necessary, it’s a means of survival. After losing over half of their dens to a group rogue shifters, the wolves and leopards merged as one Pack, but living together is much more of a challenge then they expected.
It’s a wonderful, intriguing, and scary place to be. But I wouldn’t trade mine for anything. LOL.
So what is it like? Well sometimes you feel like at outsider around non-writers, or just non-artistic people in general. I’m a little reserved when meeting new people, because I don’t think like others. My mind is always running. My muse is always searching for new plot ideas, watching others reaction , or she’s just plotting world destruction with the bad guys. Some of the things I think of will make people leery of me if they don’t know that I’m teasing. So my serious side comes out, until I get to know that person.
Around my friends and family, I’m more open and a little sarcastic. I’m able to speak freely without strange looks. Umm, that’s not true. They do give me strange looks, but they’re my friends, so I give them back. LOL.
My day job is stressful and we deal with a lot situations where humor is the only way to stay sane. So my strange and random thought process is welcome to break the tension. They just never know what I’ll say. All my co-workers know I’m a writer and some have read my books and keep reading each new release. I have great friends. LOL.
The wonder part about being a writer is I get to create new worlds and characters, fall in love with them, share with my readers, and get awesome feedback from my readers (aka author stalkers.) Yep, I’m an author stalker, too. J Virtually of course, and never in a freaky, sicko way either.
What’s intriguing? The mystery of not knowing when my characters will decide to change the outline on me. That’s always fun. I have to trust that they will get me back on the road.
Now the scary part. I have demons, magically beings, dragons, wolves, leopards, warlocks, and a bunch of evil-take-over-the-world people living inside my head. There is always a chance that someone will die. I’m never sure who it will be.
Thanks for coming by! Best wishes, Lia.
There is a tour wide giveaway of $15 Amazon GC, handmade book thong, and a swag pack. Just follow the Rafflecopter instructions to enter. Good luck!
For more information about Lia’s most recent work, keep reading!
Danica Welsh was born to be the leopard pack healer. An accident involving a drug induced youth left her badly burned and scared—emotionally and physically. Without the ability to heal by touch, she secludes herself to the edge of town, away from AshwoodFalls’ overly concerned citizens. All hope of mating and family become a distance dream. When she finally starts to accepts the long, lonely existence ahead of her, a stranger crashes into her life, and her heart.
After Nevan Mathews’ fiancée died three ago, he submerged himself into his work, cutting off all reminders of a life he dreamed of with the woman he loved. He lets his step-mother talk him into taking the first vacation in five years to visit for the holidays. But an accident delays his travel plans, sending him to Danica’s doorstep and raises a need he thought he would never feel again.
Can they tear down the walls around their hearts and submit to the passion before another claims Dani for his own?
Warning: Contains a shifter who’s scars run deeper than skin, a human who has the heart of a shifter, and a snow storm that’s sure to have them both reaching for warmth.
Movement to his right caught his attention, and he narrowed his eyes for a better look. A large leopard crouched, staring at him from the roadside. With eyes that reflected the full moon’s light, the creature blinked and let out a soft growl before it turned to walk up a gravel driveway.
The animal was beautiful, scary, and its eyes held a hint of humanity. Could it be a were? Sarah hadn’t said anything about others living this far up the mountain. When the beast turned to look at him, he swore it wanted him to follow. He took a step forward, and the cat started walking again.
“Oh, great, Nev. You’re being lead away by a cat, like Alice and that damn rabbit,” he muttered to himself. No one would ever believe him. In fact, it was probably leading him to the den to share with the rest of the pack. Shaking his head at the ridiculous thought, he walked up the driveway. The cat sped up, running ahead much too fast for him. Then it darted into the woods a few feet from a single-story log cabin nestled into the surrounding trees. Another step caused a blinding light to click on, illuminating the front of the yard and the cabin. A few moments later, the door opened, revealing the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. She stepped out onto the large wide porch. Her straight silk-like strawberry blond hair cascaded over her shoulders and stopped at her waist. The light of the full moon cast against her pale skin made her look like a goddess.
“What can I do to help you?”
Her velvety smooth voice warmed his body and awoke a very specific part of his anatomy. It was several seconds before he found his voice and shook out of the trance she’d cast upon him. “I crashed my car and wondered if you have a phone. My cell doesn’t get service up here.”
“I don’t have a phone.” Her gaze left him to search their surroundings and stopped as she glanced toward the dark sky as though she saw something he didn’t, or couldn’t, see. “But, come inside. You’ll freeze to death in the storm.” She turned and walked back inside.
A single snowflake drifted in front of his face, landing on his nose.
About Lia Davis:
Lia Davis is a mother to two young adults and two very special kitties, a wife to her soul mate, a paranormal romance author, graphic designer, and co-owner to Fated Desires Publishing, LLC. She and her family live in Northeast Florida battling hurricanes and very humid summers. But it’s her home and she loves it!
An accounting major, Lia has always been a dreamer with a very activity imagination. The wheels in her head never stop. She ventured into the world of writing and publishing in 2008 and loves it more than she imagined. Writing and designing are stress relievers that allow her to go off in her corner of the house and enter into another world that she created, leaving real life where it belongs.
Her favorite things are spending time with family, traveling, reading, writing, chocolate, coffee, nature and hanging out with her kitties.
Title: Winter Eve, AshwoodFalls prequel
Author: By Lia Davis
Publisher: Fated Desires Publishing
<a id=”rc-5b563519″ href=”http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/5b563519/” rel=”nofollow”>a Rafflecopter giveaway</a>
Win a backpack full of New Year’s Resolution Tools–Box of Shakeology, arm bands, ear buds, with a $10 iTunes gift card.
Okay, my friends. We’re only three weeks until the new year. Those resolutions might be sitting heavy in your mind or inching their way forward while you’re drooling over a plate of cookies, pie, fudge, roast beast, and/or any starch covered in cheese. No fear.
All of us who are trying to be more mindful fight with ourselves during the holidays. It’s a special time of year when your mom, or grandma, or that sweet lady in accounting makes that special dish for her favorite people despite her age or failing health.
I call it eating guilt salad –eating something to celebrate or acknowledge someone’s hard work to make it for you because they care. Even if what they made for you is horribly bad for your health.
So what is your guilt salad over the holidays? What dish can you never turn down?
Will you eat your fill or will you actually enjoy the time with the person instead?
Post by your answer by Saturday and you’re entered to win.
Good luck and pick up a copy of Weighting for Mr. Right while you’re at it. It’s a great read while working out.
Don’t want to wait for the first of the year to get starting on your health goals?
Start with launching yourself into your new goals now.
All you have to do is start–then post what you did on your first day of greatness here.
Did you go to that boot camp your friend’s been bugging you to attend?
Did you walk around the block a couple of times?
Did you dust off that exercise DVD that you purchased months ago, pop it in, and simply make it through?
Tell us what you did to simply get started.
On December 8th, I’ll draw a winner from those who post and that person will get a box of Beachbody Shakeology and a pedometer to help them reach their goals.