Tuesday, October 30, 2007

One More Day...

I love Autumn and I love Halloween - this is my favorite time of year. One of the things I like most is making costumes. This past week I've made a (replacement) Dorothy costume, as well as Wendy Darling, Tinker Bell, a Goth Gypsy, a Vampire Princess and an Executioner! I still have to make an anime style trench coat, but (minus the bout of flu yesterday) so far so good.

Maybe my annual sewing frenzy stems from my time spent in a theatre costume shop - that demented adrenaline-fueled rush to clothe 47 people for a period musical in three weeks and the resultant thrill of completing the last one...at 4:38 am. Between classes, I pretty much lived in my college's dressing room and costume shop. There were showers and a fabulous chaise lounge in the dressing room - best place to sleep, a phone and a washer and dryer in the costume shop, and vending machines in the scene shop - who needed to go home? Boy, I was young and stupid then...now I can't imagine trying to survive that!

In writing news, I got a wonderful review I'd like to share from Rachel C. at Fallen Angels Reviews - she gave Best Laid Plans 5 Angels!!! Here's my favorite part!

Best Laid Plans is a fast paced romance between two individuals with enough baggage to take a month long holiday. Every aspect of Zander and Tessa is alive and breathing on the pages, Bronwyn Green leaves no flaw, no matter how ugly, hidden. I loved the way they interact, it’s real and gritting, and the chemistry is hot. They’re drawing closer together even when their arguing and pushing each other away. I don’t know how she does it, but it’s a faultless glide that takes no effort to believe. With the added conflict of Zander’s job and Tessa’s stalker, the story has you on the edge of your seat waiting for the next thing to happen. And even when you think you know what it is, Ms. Green surprises you. Her skill at bringing the story to life is enviable. Vivid images flash through your mind as you read her words. Tessa is a hero that every one will love, she’s strong and tough but soft and vulnerable at the same time, very few authors can pull that off but Ms. Green does it with ease. Zander is a hunk and makes me want to head back to school if only all the professors were like him. No tweed coats in sight. Best Laid Plans is a wonderful book full of romance and suspense, and with every twist and turn you hold your breath, waiting for the next scene to unfold. I found this book so enjoyable it’ll be one of the ones I read again and again. After this I’d have no problems buying a book just because it has Bronwyn Green’s name on the cover.

Now, it's back to the sewing room and the last costume! Happy Halloween Everyone!!!!

Monday, October 29, 2007


Help, I want a fairy godmother to swoop down and wave her magic wand and fix our car. I confess it was my fault and I'm awash in guilty feelings. We drive a Lexus and our car is a sitting duck in parking lots where it's fun and games when it comes to whacking our vehicle. Thousands of dollars later to repair ... oh hell. This damage I did myself. I clipped the right side mirror and broke it. Repair bill - close to $1000.00. The side mirror itself is $750.00 add the labour and we're looking at ... Maybe we should trade in the Lexus for an old clunker. Forget that. I like a safe, well maintained car.
Okay enough about cars. I had to get it off my chest in order to feel more "goddesslike." Sam's Halloween blast sounds like fun. I love having the kids come knocking at our door, especially the little ones who are all agog and wide eyed while a parent hangs back to keep an eye on the proceedings. Unfortunately for us, we don't have a lot of kids in our neighbourhood. I always buy lots of good stuff (Bill and I eat the leftovers or I freeze them. Those little chocolate bars freeze beautifully). Last year I think we had 12 kids. I always enjoy the teenage girls who come last, usually in a group of four, all dressed up and giggling. I think it may be there last time out Trick and Treating. It's tough to give up Halloween and have to behave like sensible older teens.

Nothing new in my writing world. I'll put up the covers of my two books, A Very Difficult Man and Isabelle's Diary. The more I show them, the more likely someone will buy them.
On my next Goddess day I promise not to whine and whimper but even goddesses must have bad hair days when they should pull the covers over their heads and go back to sleep. Perhance to dream of a dark prince in shining armor come to the rescue or a really good hair stylist. Who would you choose?

Sunday, October 28, 2007

Halloween Contest at Sam Cheever's House

Cheever's House

Sam Cheever is sponsoring a Trick or Treating Bash on a street near you. The street is inexplicably filled with your favorite Fantasy and Paranormal Authors and they will be waiting by the door with tricks and treats for you. All you need to do to play is visit Sam's site anytime between October 29 and October 31 and select an item from the goodie bag posted there. Then send a note off to Sam with your selection and move on to the next Author's house on the list, where another Author will be waiting with a goodie bag for you to choose from. The Contestant who selects the most correct items from the goodie bags will win a Halloween Bag that's just bulging with wonderful donations from the Authors who live on Sam's street.
Come and join the fun and play for a chance to win a bag of goodies. You might be surprised to learn who lives on Sam's street.
Only one trip down the street per contestant.


If your any reason you have trouble getting there just stop by my blog: sandracox.blogspot.com

Friday, October 26, 2007

CURSES Available now!

After a year of struggles, it's finally back! Curses, my very first book, first came out with Triskelion last March. Now it's re-edited and dressed in a striking new cover, and best of all, available in PRINT and e-book from the wonderful folks at The Wild Rose Press. www.thewildrosepress.com

Some people are really cursed when it comes to love! For innkeeper and witch Melissa MacRae, a family curse means that falling in love is the ultimate bad idea. Author Jonas Pierce is a werewolf, who has seen too much evil to even consider passing on his curse to another generation. So why does a hot summer fling have them both thinking about happily ever after?


“So tell me about yourself,” Joe began after they’d claimed a corner booth at Rosa’s. The drive into town had been accomplished in silence while Mel chewed nervously on her thoughts. One look at Jonas in his soft black shirt had her palms sweaty and her mouth going dry. His long hair was loose and shining, and it was she could do to keep her hands from running through the strands. She sure hoped Hattie’s advice had been sound, because otherwise, she was in a whole lot of trouble.

His question caught her by surprise. A man who actually wanted to talk about her? She couldn’t tell him everything, of course; she didn’t want to scare him off, but she did give him vignettes. Stories about growing up in Sanctity, her college years at Lake Superior State in Sault Ste. Marie, and the trials and tribulations of a wilderness innkeeper. He was a great listener, Mel discovered, and their food was set in front of them before she realized time had passed.

“I spent the afternoon doing plumbing.” She showed him her ragged fingernails. “It’s not exactly a glamorous life, but I like it. How was your day?” She forked up a bite of Rosa’s Mexican specialty, closing her eyes to better enjoy the explosion of flavors.

“I took a walk in the woods.” He paused to take a bite of his own meal, then smiled and nodded his approval. “Then did a little shopping here in town, spent some time getting to know the area.”

“That should have taken all of five minutes.” His white teeth flashed in response to her quip, and she swallowed hard as her stomach fluttered.

“Actually, you’d be surprised how much you can learn about a place chatting at the local hardware store.” There was an almost feral gleam in those amber eyes, and Mel suddenly had the sensation of being hunted. She didn’t know whether to be thrilled or frightened.

“So did you learn anything interesting?” She licked her suddenly dry lips.

“You could say that.” His grin reminded her uncannily of the wolf she’d seen this afternoon.

“When I mentioned that I was staying up at Whispering Pines, Jerry at the store felt obligated to warn me about you.”

Her fork clattered against her plate as she dropped it. “Really?” She was pretty sure he wasn’t buying her feigned nonchalance.

“Umm-hmm.” He sipped his coffee slowly, dragging out the suspense.


“Why what?”

“Why did Jerry warn you off?” Jerry Svensen had never much cared for Mel, not since the day she’d trounced his daughter Jenny at the sixth grade spelling bee. Still, he’d never been overtly disparaging to the tourists before, at least not that she knew of. This thing with the Talcotts was apparently stirring up even more dissension than she’d realized.

“Oh, nothing unexpected,” Jonas purred, his deep voice sending shivers down Mel’s spine. “Rat-trap cabins, overpriced and understaffed. He even hinted that you might be after my virtue.”

“He did?” Ouch! That one hit uncomfortably close to home.

“Yep. I assured him that that wouldn’t be a problem.”

It wouldn’t? Drat!

Joe continued with a twinkle in his eye and a lazy grin. “Of course, there was one more thing he thought I ought to know.”

“And what was that?”

“According to the good Mr. Svensen, the lovely Miss Melissa MacRae is a witch.”

Thursday, October 25, 2007

Yep, another year older and another year . . .

more forgetful! Yesterday was my day to post, so I hope whosever day this is will forgive me for encroaching.

I will keep it short. I said I would have my website up by now. . . well, I'm closer but not yet. My web designer and his wife have a newborn son, so he's a little busy -- and tired! So, I will wait patiently. And I will let everyone know as soon as it's up. I love the artwork -- Eilean Donan (sp?) castle in Scotland and beautiful thistles.

I'm getting very excited about NaNoWriMo. This year, they have local get-togethers and write-ins. Maybe they have always had them but I didn't know about them. This year, I plan to participate and really meet the challenge. Can't wait to get started, but I don't have time to jump the gun because . . .

I am packing for a cruise to Bermuda!! WOO-HOO! I have never been there and I am really looking forward to it.

See you next month -- rested, relaxed, and cranking out the chapters!
Kate Poole

Wednesday, October 24, 2007

Excerpt from Boji Stones

The big oak tree by the house threw eerie shadows across the lawn as a screech owl hooted nearby, and even though Maureen had heard them all her life she shivered. A big full moon lit up the sky and helped dilute the menace of the night.

He picked up the gun. “Somebody’s got to make a move and it sure as shit isn’t going to be our uninvited guest up there, with Wolf waiting by his door.“ He gestured toward the big SUV and trailer. “Nobody but a fool or someone with a death wish would step out of that cab.

“Well, I’ll be damned.” The truck door opened and the stranger stepped out of the cab.

Wolf crouched his lips curled back showing deadly white fangs that gleamed in the moonlight.

The stranger held out his hand, palm up, for Wolf to sniff.

Without thinking, Maureen reached for the door handle. She couldn’t just sit and watch a man get savaged.

Hank shoved his arm out in front of her. “Wait.”

She could feel rigid cords stand out in his arm muscles and hear the strain in his voice. Her own vertebra felt glued together disc by disc. Tension built like the incoming tide beneath the soothing pull of the amulet.

She gasped in surprise as Wolf sat down.

With long determined strides the stranger walked toward the pickup Wolf trailing at his heels.

The bright moonlight illuminated his features, a strong chiseled face, a thin hawk-nose and dark hair drawn back in a pony tail. He wore faded jeans and a white Tee shirt.

Hank whistled softly. “What do you make of that?”

Glancing over, she noticed Hank’s hand still rested on the gun. “I don’t know what to make of it. But I guess we’ll be finding out.”

Her heart thumped as the stranger’s approach. Friend or foe?

Thursday, October 18, 2007

Strange but True

Well a doctor in town has a new story to tell today thanks to me. Last weekend I was volunteering at the nature center as a handler for a photo-shoot. It’s a fundraiser for our animal rehab work. We tether a bunch of the birds to perches and photographers pay big bucks to come take their pictures. Each bird has its own personal bodyguard/servant the entire time. This day I was in charge of Igor, the turkey vulture. He likes to pick apart his jesses (tethers) and so every so often I’d have to step in and put my (gloved) hand between his beak and his feet to make him stop.

When I was trying to remove his jesses, back in his enclosure at the end of the day, I didn’t bother with gloves, since there were no visitors to see. Four years of working with this bird and never even a red mark on my skin. But this time he nipped.

Their beaks aren’t very strong, but he managed to pinch a flap of skin on the back of my hand and wouldn’t let go. Then he twisted, and managed to tear off a small bit of skin—about the size of a small sunflower seed. No big deal right? I’ve been bitten by far bigger beaks and teeth in my years of working with animals.

But of course this one decided to resist the peroxide, alcohol, tea tree oil, and Neosporin that make up my home arsenal against infection. So today I had to go into the walk-in clinic to get antibiotics for an infected vulture bite. She was most amused. Gave me the prescription. Said it will also clear up the sinus infection I hadn’t even told her about. Gave me a tetanus shot too, just for fun.

So as I was leaving, what did she say? “Oh I’ve gotta write this down…won’t ever have this one again…vulture bite…”

Happy Halloween, huh?

Tuesday, October 16, 2007

Chance to Win a copy of Prophecy of Vithan

Prophecy of Vithan is being featured on Stifle the Squeal . I am interviewed as well.
If you leave a comment on the blog you will be entered to win a copy of my novel Prophecy of Vithan.
Stop by and get your chance at winning.

Thursday, October 11, 2007

4.5 out of 5 Blue Ribbons for Prophecy of Vithan

Thursday, October 11, 2007

4.5 out of 5 Blue Ribbons from Romance Junkies

Romance Junkies.com reivewed Prophecy of Vithan and gave it 4.5 out of 5 Blue Ribbons.
What that means:
Our Blue Ribbon Rating System
2 Ribbons - a book I did not mind reading.
3 Ribbons - a book I enjoyed reading.
4 Ribbons - a book I would recommend to all my friends.
5 Ribbons - a book I would gush about to all my friends and recommend to anyone and everyone. A real page-turner.
See why Romance Junkies Reviewer Anita says about Prophecy of Vithan available at Cerridwen Press
Exciting action and wild adventure are found throughout this thrilling book, PROPHECY OF VITHAN by Charlene Leatherman. Powerful characters draw you in and make you a part of their story. Morgan finds herself in the center of a prophecy as it begins to unfold. There are those around her that want to make sure the prophecy does not come to pass. Surrounded by enemies, she goes on a dangerous mission to save the prince. She finds herself in a fight just to stay alive. Morgan is a wonderful character with astonishing skills and powers. Her strength and fighting abilities are amazing. She is a strong woman that is more than able to take care of herself. I truly liked this character. She has a wonderful personality and she works hard to protect those she cares about. I found myself anxiously awaiting the point in which the prophecy would take place. Len is a man that finds himself in a difficult situation. He falls for a woman he believes is an enemy. His skills are very similar to Morgan's and they seem to be evenly matched. The interactions between Morgan and Len are exciting from the beginning. The sparks fly between them whether they are fighting or making love. When all is said and done, they are perfect for each other. Len and Morgan find themselves on the run on a planet with many dangerous surprises. The thrilling action is fast—paced and breathtaking. The story is captivatingly imaginative. PROPHECY OF VITHAN by Charlene Leatherman is a fascinating science fiction fantasy that readers are sure to enjoy. "

Wednesday, October 10, 2007


Imagination. Lucky are those of us who are gifted with the power to imagine, to create pictures inside our heads, to find inspiration in ordinary or extraordinary events. I'm posting a picture that appeared in our local newspaper. (photo credit Mike Szaszik)
I was so enchanted by the picture I got in touch with the photographer to ask for permission to post it on my blog and the Goddess blog. Mike graciously consented.
It's a lucky shot, Mike says. He snapped the picture of a barn fire. Local fireman herded the ducks to safety. But that's too simple. Too mundane.
When I viewed the picture I thought, this is a fairy tale. Those are little people whose village is being destroyed by a wicked wizard and they are powerless. All they can do is stand in awe as the flame devour everything they love. But ... and good fairy tales have a happy ending. I leave it to you to imagine the ending.
My imagination had fun playing with the picture and how it created a whole drama inside my head. But that's the way writers are inspired to put pen to paper or fingers to keyboard. My current release, Isabelle's Diary, was inspired by a scene I witnessed in Llandrindod Wells, Wales. My husband and I had stopped for a cup of coffee in a cafe. Seated alone at a window table was a young girl dressed in black. She was drinking a Coke and kept glancing over her shoulder as if waiting for someone. That was all I needed to kick start my story.
The young woman in Isabelle's Diary is dressed in sombre Victorian black. She is weeping over a diary. Why? Who was she? That's the story question.
Want to know more? Read Isabelle's Diary. I am muddling through a contemporary romance set in Cornwall. Yes, I got the idea when we visited Cornwall and came across an unusually beautiful garden that seemed out of place on the rugged coast line.
Does the picture I posted speak to you?

Monday, October 8, 2007

I'm jealous . . . but it's my own fault

I belong to a prolific group of authors. Every day on the list they tell all of us about their new releases, their anthology entries, their new covers. I on the other hand remain silent.

It is my own fault. Although I have many, many stories running around in my head and some of them already begun on paper or in my computer, I have only finished one manuscript so far. Fortunately, that manuscript got published (or I wouldn't be here now) and has sold more copies than I ever dreamed it would.

But I don't want to be a "one hit wonder." My problem is that I have not developed a writing regimen. In fact, I am not regimented about anything in my life. So, I have come up with a plan.

November is the NaNoWriMo challenge -- to write a whole novel, or about 50,000 words, in the month of November. No research, no editing, just WRITE. I sign up every year but needless to say, I never achieve anywhere near that goal. But this year the situation is quite different. I HAVE finished a manuscript and I AM published. I AM a writer! I WILL finish my Work In Progress, at least. And in the process, I will hopefully establish a routine that I can continue past the month of November.

Wish me luck! And by my next blog date, I should have my website up and running, and I will give you the link. Talk to you on October 24 -- when I will be another year older and hopefully, wiser.

Kate Poole

Saturday, October 6, 2007

Change of Season Change of Residence

I live in the desert. Desert Center California to be exact. My little burg is near the Mojave Desert, Death Valley and the Salton Sea. The seasons are changing here.

Summer is hot - up to 130 degrees. This summer it was not so hot - only 120 but the humidity was high 89%. When it is hot like that we stay under the swamp cooler or the air conditioner.

Two summers ago we had a hamster in a habitrail. We lost electricity for three days. We had the hamster in the habitrail in breezes. However we tried keeping it cool we still lost it.

So, we got another hamster. This time we have the hamster in the habitrail during the winter and an open wire cage during the summer.

Summer just ended. Yesterday our weather was 101. Today our high is 85.

Today was moving day for our hamster. This entails capturing the little critter. Putting Scritch (that is her name) in a walking ball and letting her wander around the house while the cat watches the moving ball. The cat does not hit at the ball nor chase it. She just follows it around hoping the lid will come off and she will get some fast food.

Then we unmercifully rearrange Scritch's enviornment. Her bedding is changed from cool shredded paper to cushiony and warm paper filler. We made the mistake one day of putting pine shavings in her cage. We found out the hard way that most hamsters are allergic to pine and cedar. So, now for winter she gets warm mushed up paper filler. Her air-flo bars are replaced by warmth holding plastic habitrail walls. Next step is finding Scritch in her walking ball and putting her in her new home.

She snuffs around and digs around and makes herself at home. Scritch thanks us for moving her to her winter home by hibernating most of the winter.

Me? I'm just the opposite. I enjoy the winter. It is envigerating. I get more done. I have more energy. I work out more. Its just nicer. I even write more. Which is a good thing.

I wonder if there is a place that is always just the right temperature? Just the weather? A place where I would always have energy? Of course if there was such a place, I'd never see my hamster. She would always be in her winter home hibernating.

Charlene Leatherman, Author of Adventruous Romances
Prophecy of Vithan available at Cerridwen Press

Friday, October 5, 2007

What Do I Know?

In the dark hours this morning, a vehicle followed mine onto a narrow two-lane road that I take to get to work. With seconds, this vehicle had drawn so close behind me that I could barely see its headlights. My initial reaction was fear. That was followed by a flash of anger that settled into a low simmer. How dare this idiot endanger my life by risking slamming into the back of me if I had to brake suddenly for a deer or a kid on a bike? When we reached the stop light at the end of the road, I imagined myself getting out of my car, walking back to the other vehicle and chewing out him or her. Then I thought that a person who tailgates with such disregard for traffic safety probably doesn’t feel guilty about it and might even have a gun (this is Texas). So of course I stayed put. But the situation blossomed into a tidy little scene in my mind, one I could no doubt use for some future work of fiction.

There’s an old adage for writers that says “write what you know”. But what do I know? I live a fairly quiet life without the killers, ghosts, or femme fatales that populate my stories. Most of the heroes in my romantic suspense novels are Deputy United States Marshals. I’m not one. I don’t even know any. The heroine of my western romance is a Louisiana debutante. I had a debut once. Drama class, junior year of high school. Not quite the same thing and it didn’t lead to love and happily-ever-after. . .oh, wait. Yes, it did. But that’s another story.

Stepping beyond that adage is where real writers truly excel. One thing we know how to do—the most important thing—is use our imaginations. We can conjure characters and places out of thin air, lay them out on a page and make them come across as if we know those people and have been to those places.

I’ve never been pursued through the dark woods by a murderer. But I can pull up the emotions of fear and desperation based on experiences like the one with the tailgater above. I’ve never ridden a horse at a full-out run, but I’ve walked a horse and I’ve had one run away with me. Add to those experiences all the westerns I’ve seen and read in my life and I’m able to create a convincing chase scene.

So we can relate our own experiences into adventures for our books. Yes. We may not be cops or killers, but we know more than we think we do. Now I’m not suggesting anyone endanger themselves (or anyone else) just to gain experience for a scene or a character. But pay attention to what does happen to you and how you feel. Have a close call on the freeway with someone in the throes of road rage? Document how you feel: the pounding of your heart, the sense of threat, your own rising anger. Use that. Expand on it. Meet the eyes of an attractive stranger across a dimly lit restaurant? Describe that little flutter in the pit of your stomach. Use it. Get it down on paper and build a scene around it.

You know more than you think you do.

Teri Thackston
DEADLY CLIMB available now at www.cerridwenpress.com

Thursday, October 4, 2007

Would you like to heat up your night with a little Night Heat?

This is a story that began life as a little tale about long lost lovers and broken hearts. But dang! Desiree Holt just can't seem to write anything that doesn't set fire to the keyboard. Here's a little taste of Night Heat for you, available at http://www.ellorascave.com/

When Jill Danvers left Bluebonnet Falls ten years ago she never expected to go back. When Gabe Carter, the love of her life, married someone else she took the pieces of her shattered heart and ran as fast and as far as she could. But Gabe is chairing The Falls’ bicentennial celebration and the magazine Jill writes for has assigned her to do a piece on it. The minute she walks into Gabe’s office she discovers two things: she’s as hot for him as she ever was, and Gabe isn’t married. Their feelings for each other explode and they heat up the nights, the sex hotter and more erotic than either thought possible. But there are still a lot of obstacles in their path. The former Mrs. Carter comes home determined to reclaim Gabe for herself and a nasty scandal is brewing over a new development meant to put Bluebonnet Falls on the map. A scandal that could involve everyone, even Gabe’s ex-wife.

“God, darlin’.” His words were like little puffs of air on her face. “You have no idea how much I’ve prayed that despite every bit of bitterness you had a right to feel, you’d still walk back into my life one day.” He traced a line from her mouth to her jawline with feathery little kisses, then moved to her neck and the place behind her ear that drove her crazy. As he teased the soft flesh with the tip of his tongue, his body pressed her back against the couch and one hand moved easily to the buttons on her blouse.
I have to remember something important. What? What?
Then she felt his hands on her, gentle but insistent and she lost all ability to think. Peeling away the blouse, opening the front clasp on her bra, he touched her breasts with a gentleness she’d never forgotten. His mouth closed on a nipple, teasing it with his teeth then swirling his tongue around the hardened bud. Sensation washed over her, sparking her nerve endings, spiraling through her like an electric wire.
“Jesus, I’ve missed you,” he whispered hoarsely. “Not a night has gone by that you weren’t in my dreams.”
Jill clutched at him, her hands feeling his powerful muscles beneath the soft cotton of his shirt, the heat searing her palms. Memories of how well their bodies fitted together played havoc with her mind and her senses. Suddenly his clothes were too much of an obstruction. With frantic movements she tugged his shirt free from his trousers, desperate to touch his skin, to relearn the feel of him. The instant contact was like a drug, fogging her mind.
One arm holding her tightly, Gabe’s other hand moved over her body, mapping it, relearning it. He touched the familiar places, from her breasts to the curve of her stomach, down to her slim legs and up to the inside of her knees, her thighs. Sliding beneath the thin fabric of the skirt, his fingertips teased at the elastic edge of her lace panties. All the while he murmured softly in her ear, words that inflamed her and made her writhe against him.
Automatically she opened her legs to give him greater access. He deepened the kiss as he reached beneath the scrap of silk to touch the soft curls covering her feminine mound. She felt him now, gently touching, probing, her breath coming in shorter and shorter gasps.
Then, out of nowhere, the painful memory of his betrayal along with the reality of the situation blasted into her brain like a bucket of cold water. What was wrong with her? She had no business doing this. Wrenching her mouth away from his insistent lips, she pushed at him with all her strength.
“Stop,” she gasped. “Stop, stop, stop. Let me up, Gabe. Right now.” She writhed in is grasp, trying to free herself.
“What?” He looked at her with eyes clouded with desire. “What’s wrong?” His eyes had an unfocused look. “Jill, I’m so sorry I grabbed you this way but from the minute you walked in the door all I could think of was making love to you.”
She shoved at him as hard as she could, pulling herself away. “We can’t do this. Please.”
He leaned forward while she adjusted herself, raking his fingers through his hair. “Help me understand here.” His voice was raw with passion and frustration. “What we felt so long ago is still there. Ten years haven’t made a damn bit of difference.” He drew a sharp, ragged breath. “You may have hidden from me all this time but you can’t hide the fact you feel it too.”
She had her head bowed, biting her lower lip as she struggled to fasten and rearrange her clothing. “It doesn’t matter. We can’t do this. It’s wrong.”
“Wrong?” He grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him. “Tell me what’s wrong with it. It doesn’t get much better than this. It never did.”
She knew he was going to kiss her again and she jerked her head away. “I don’t sleep with married men, Gabe.”
“Married?” He dropped his hand. “What in God’s name are you talking about? Who’s married?”
“You are.” Defiance gripped her. “To Robin Fletcher. Remember?” Her voice mimicked his from long ago. “‘Robin’s pregnant. Four months.’ Has the little scene somehow disappeared from your memory bank?”
Gabe rose from the couch and stood before her, looming over her, his face a mixture of shock and anger. “I’m not married, Jill. Maybe if you’d bothered to keep in touch you’d have found out. Robin and I were divorced two months after the wedding.”

Wednesday, October 3, 2007

Today marks the release of my first erotic short story, Between a Rock and a Hard-On. It's a Tricks and Treats Quickie from Ellora's Cave. I’ll admit that the title still gives me a chuckle, but if it attracts attention to the book, that’s fine with me. It’s the story of a pixie, a half-dragon and a little sex magic in a wooded park on Halloween. Here’s an excerpt that’s NOT on the publisher’s website (or mine, for that matter.)

His tongue tripped over the plastic fangs and he damn near drooled. Uggh! Enough! He surreptitiously spat the stupid things out into his hand and shoved them in the back pocket of his black chinos, then allowed his own canine teeth to lengthen. To hell with the mayor’s better ideas!

Another group approached, made up of a bunch of littler kids this time, shepherded around by a grown-up. Bram had to look twice to figure that out, she wasn’t much taller than the kids, but judging by the generous rack that filled the front of her cheap black witch’s outfit, she was an adult. One more look had Bram adjusting the damn cape to hide the sudden hard-on that had sprung up in his pants. Oh, yeah, definitely a grown-up! But the mayor had screwed up when he’d dressed her as a witch instead of a fairy princess. Long platinum-blonde curls tumbled out from the pointed cardboard hat. She had big, slightly tilted green eyes and plump, glossy lips that would look just right wrapped around his cock. He only hoped none of the kids she was wrangling were hers.

“Trick or treat!” Five of the kids chorused the refrain, but one small one began to whimper and point at Bram. He felt a frisson of power and cursed mentally. That kid was a damn wizard, or would be one day. Unfortunately His Honor seemed to have forgotten that kids with magic could usually see through the fa├žade of humanity that Bram wore on a daily basis.

“Don’t cry, sweetie, he’s just a pretend vampire.” The ersatz witch picked up the sniffling toddler and cuddled him close, while Bram passed out goodies to the others.

“Here’s one for the little guy.” He held out a lollipop to the woman, as the teary-eyed urchin hid his face in her generous cleavage. Lucky kid! Privately, Bram thought the tyke had already gotten the best treat in the place. Bram would happily trade every last piece of candy in Philadelphia for the chance to bury his face between those breasts.

“Thanks.” Her voice was soft and breathy and her bright green eyes twinkled as she grinned at Bram. A human wouldn’t have been able to discern color in this half-light, but Bram had excellent dark vision. “Sorry about Kevin.”

She reached up to pluck the candy from his hand and just for a second, their fingers touched. And where they did, they burned. Just a momentary flare of heat, but it was like nothing Bram had ever felt before. If he’d thought he had a hard-on before, now he was going to have trouble walking, his body was so stiff. He actually felt dizzy for an instant as all the blood left his brain. She pulled her hand away like it was burning, so she must have felt it too. It wasn’t just a shock of static electricity, it was magic…

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Tuesday, October 2, 2007


During This First Week of October You Can:

Sign Up for NaNoWriMo at nanowrimo.org

You can contact me at disonij@aol.com to be a guest blogger here.

Your can also so celebrate:

Breastfeeding Week (National, US) is celebrated every year during the first week in October.

Customer Service Week (National, US - Observed the first full week of October)

Gerontological Nurses Week

Get Organized Week

Health Care Food Service Week

Mental Illness Awareness Week

Minority Enterprise Week (Observed the first full week in October)

Newspaper Week (National, US)

Nuclear Medicine Week

Outplacement Week (National, US - Observed the first week in October with the first Monday thru Friday.)

Space Week (World Space Week)