Sunday, December 27, 2009

I've been busted!

LOL. This is the best story ever. I had a friend of mine get a hold of me the other day. He was watching an episode of one of those Cops reality shows on tv. There was a drive by shooting at a mobile home park in Florida. The bullet went through the wall and into a box of books in the closet. The cop on the show went in and took the top book out to show how the bullet went through. And it was a Lacey Thorn book! How awesome is that!!!!!????? I'm so excited to say that I made and episode of Cops! LOL

So here's a little something to tempt you to add me to your collection!

In The Bare
Lacey Thorn

Bare Love 6
Charlie has been told to take a few days off from the case that is driving him crazy. Reluctantly he heads out to a cabin in the woods offered to him by close friend and fellow detective Gil Daniels. A few beers, a hot shower and a sexual fantasy featuring his dream girl Detective Miranda Duncan. It would only be better if she were with him.
Miranda is determined to seduce Charlie Tate. So she follows him to a secluded cabin. When he answers in nothing but a towel the gloves come off. Before the weekend is over she will love every inch of him and convince him that they belong together.
Little does she know that he has the same plan. Let the seduction begin.

Into The Mist
Lacey Thorn

Sequel to White Valley
In the aftermath of her best friend’s death Nikki was looking for a reason for life when she took a long drive through the state park. A song in the air led her through the mist and into a valley to delight the senses. All of them...
Gunnar and Geran didn’t expect to find the naked beauty swimming in the bridal pool but they couldn’t leave her to face the affects of the water all alone. So they claimed her as mate and took pleasure in helping her reach hers. Again and again and again…until every inch of her knew their touch.

Both are now available at So go ahead... It's your world...unlaced.

Lacey Thorn

Saturday, December 26, 2009

I hope you had a happy holiday, and will enjoy a prosperous New Year!

I had a wonderful Christmas.

I certainly hope your holidays were bright and wonderful. And I sincerely wish everyone a wonderful and Happy New Year!

Face e-authors and publishers and editors and readers, we have a tendency to truly enjoy life. But like everyone, we sometimes get bogged down in depression, end of year doldrums, and a total lack of SUNLIGHT! LOL! That's why we place our happiest holidays at the dreary end of the year, and light up the path to another year of friendship, joy, and love.

This year's Christmas Tree wasn't packed with big presents. Nobody had the money for that. But there were wonderful home made presents from the kids, cookies and candies made by the daughter-in-law, and we had a fine time. And as New year's Day swiftly approaches, and everyone gets ready to have a wild party, I will be working diligently on yet another wip, and celebrating in my own small way, with chips and dips, Martinelli's Sparkling Apple Cider, and home made enchiladas.

Today is officially the Second Day of I am enjoying a special gift give4n to me by my family...Two Turtle Doves (chocolate, of course!) and looking forward to the next ten wonderful days and gifts. Christmas never ends at 12:00 p.m. on the 25th. It continues on through the Feast of the Epiphany, on January 6th. The "Santa" gifts are opened Christmas morning, but the celebration continues for eleven more days. I love the holidays!

So enjoy your holidays happily, healthfully, and carefully. But do enjoy them!

Fran Lee

Friday, December 25, 2009

Saturday, December 19, 2009


Lately I’ve done a lot of shouting at my television set—especially at commercials that seem to encourage language misuse or at well-known program hosts who call two female guests “guys” with no man (except the host) in sight. Growing up I often thought our entire country would benefit if sportscasters learned to speak proper English—even if only the American version of proper English. For those of us old enough to remember baseball announcer Dizzy Dean, think “slud” instead of “slid.”

The commercials I find most offensive are those using “less” when they mean “fewer” and “as tall as me” when they mean “as tall as I am.” And then there’s the cartoon woman who only “shrunk” one size while her husband “shrunk six.” In books, I’m tired of being thrown out of the story by “alright” and “blonde” men. A man and a woman may both have blond (adjective) hair. A man may also be a blond, but a woman is a blonde (noun).

Yes, I realize language evolves. But how can we expect our children and grandchildren to sound like intelligent individuals when pop culture—commercials, rappers and even books—glorify inaccurate language use?

Climbing off my soapbox now. Thanks for letting me vent.

Dee Brice

Romance: A Hint of Humor; A Lot of Heat

Thursday, December 17, 2009

Three reasons to travel back in time

I am into strong women. Especially those who had a tougher time of it than we. So when I really want to make a statement about how a strong man is attracted to a strong woman, I write historicals.
My newest from is AT HER SERVICE. A medieval tale of a knight who must mate with the woman he loved from childhood--and a woman whose life depends on producing an heir for her lands.
So I am pontificating here and giving you three reasons to read historicals.
1. As a refresher of history FOR THOSE WHO HATED HISTORY IN HIGH SCHOOL, reading a factually based novel gives you an appreciation for the harsher realities of life. Cruel lords, baths once a year for the average guy or gal, no meds for pneumonia--and no condoms, either!
2. A look at how sex and sexuality was viewed by men and women. A few tidbits? A pregnant woman was considered to be one who orgasmed and was bearing the proof that she had thoroughly enjoyed her encounter with the father of the child. YET, a man who could not "perform" was believed to have a wife who could not inspire him.
3. Historicals give us a delicious break from the hip language of contemporaries. A more fluid prose by an author who has a historical voice brings us a sense of time and place, and an appreciation for fiction that elicits verisimillitude in word as well as deed.
Come visit me for excerpts and more at
COME TELL ME WHAT ATTRACTS YOU ABOUT HISTORICALS? And is there a certain period you love more than others?

Tuesday, December 15, 2009

Xmas cheer and Jennivere

Wish I could greet each of you individually and extend my very good wishes. Xmas is such a lovely time of year. Not only can't do that, but I'm a little brain dead. Am polishing my book fifteen, one of the mage series, and this one is erotic instead of sensual. Have finished it, eliminated umpteen 'that's and almost as many 'was's. Always find it hard to believe I let so many sloppy words slip by me. In the last book I overdid the word 'truly' like I couldn't believe. I'll finish my lazy word check, give it to a friend for her edits, and then get it to my wonderful editor. Then I intend to revamp my webpage which is sadly out of date. Somewhere in there come Xmas, although we will only have our daughter to help us celebrate this year. She's so special she'll make it a merry one. And the first of the year I'll start the next book in the Mage series, this one about Simon Raphael. it will be about ten years later than any book I've written so will demand a lot of research.

Jennivere's Journey comes out the first of the year. This is the third book in the Songs of the Mages series. Here's a very short excerpt. Just enough to be tanalizing, I hope. And did you notice the title for this post rhymes?

"They walked for about ten minutes and then she stopped and turned to him.
Putting her hands on his shoulders she raised her face, lovelier than ever in the moonlight and said simply.
“Kiss me, Zach.”
He didn’t waste a second. His lips swooped down on hers. He tried to hold himself in check but these last few days of agonizing proximity had stretched his control to near breaking. He managed to soften his first blazing kiss but not before she’d gasped and tried to withdraw a little. Feeling her shock helped him gentle his lips and loosen his tightened hold. He stood rocking her in his arms and only when she relaxed did he let his kiss deepen and then gradually.
This time she drew closer, responding with an ardor whose innocence shook him. She’d been married, for god’s sake, even if only for two weeks. The more clues he had to her marriage the more suspicions it raised. He’d not ask her a single question. For one thing it was none of his business and for another he badly wanted her to confide in him because she trusted him.
Jenny wondered if the heat emanating from the man holding her so sweetly would set her dress on fire. She felt her body blazing from the ground to the topmost hair on her head. Probably this was what made her pant a little. She felt as if she could hardly get her breath."
It gets even better, or should I say sexier? I'm anxious for Jenny to make her debut. I won't be posting again before Xmas so Happy Holidays to one and all. Jean

Monday, December 14, 2009

New Release - Body Shots

Tomorrow is the release of my second EC book, Body Shots. It's part of the Wet Theme. I had so much fun writing this story! Here is a blurb and excerpt to give you a taste of what you'll find inside.
You can grab your copy tomorrow December 15th at:


Got Tequila?
Sierra does and Reed isn’t afraid to use it. He’s determined to do shots on every inch of her skin, but Sierra has insecurities preventing him from exploring intimate areas. Her insecurities won't stop her from lavishing his body with the heady liquor.
Ten years ago an accident tore Sierra Allen and Reed Walker apart. Now a chance encounter has them burning for each other. A bottle of liquor and a pool table has this duo ready to quench their thirsts with one night of Body Shots.
Will one night be enough to fan the flames of desire?

Reed Walker leaned his massive frame against the wall. His leg bent, his boot-clad foot tapped against the wall to the rhythm of the bass drum. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, as his eyes gazed upon the singer crooning the soft rock ballad. She was gorgeous by every standard of the word. Long flowing black hair, dark mysterious eyes, her arms sleeved in tattoos. Dressed only in black leather pants and a matching leather bra, her rock-hard stomach revealed she worshiped the gym but Reed wasn’t here for the singer. She wasn’t his type any longer. Another time, another place maybe. Not tonight. Tonight, he was here for the owner of the bar.
Looking to make some extra cash doing something they loved, Reed and his fellow band mates decided to reunite after a ten year hiatus. Reed having always been the businessman of the group took on the task of going around to different bars and clubs to see if they were interested in adding his band Foul Play to the line up.
When he walked into Crimson Nights he thought he was walking into a dream. Never in his wildest imagination had he thought he’d come face to face with the only true love of his life—Sierra Allen.
The look on her face when he walked up to the bar and asked to speak to the owner was one of shock. Like seeing a ghost. And that’s how he felt. Oh, she’d cut off most of her long red hair but she couldn’t deny the scar on her right cheek. It had faded some over the years and she tried covering it with her hand most of the time they spoke but he knew it was her. She told him her name was Laura but Reed knew better. Those haunting green eyes couldn’t be mistaken.
He went along with her charade, though it killed him deep inside. She had run away from him after the car accident without so much as an explanation. The weeks he spent by her side, holding her while she cried over what she felt was a deformed face. The painful recovery from the shards of glass that cut her, when the windshield shattered. He stood by her side, loving her, wishing he could take away her pain. Wishing it was him who suffered instead of her, only to have her up and vanish when she was released from the hospital.
Now she was pretending she didn’t know him. It didn’t make sense. He’d let her go a long time ago but this time he wasn’t going to leave without finding out why. It was the least she could do. She owed him an explanation.
She shocked him when she agreed to let his band play. He fully expected a flat-out “no”. Why would she want his band playing there if she was hiding her identity? Was it a ploy to make him believe she was this Laura she pretended to be? Or was she feeling the connection too? If it was to prove her charade, she was sadly mistaken. Reed wasn’t stupid enough to be fooled by a haircut or name change.
Reed would wait until the night was done and the bar empty before he confronted her but he would and when he did, Sierra had some explaining to do.

Wednesday, December 9, 2009

Sexual Energy now available!

Hello all! I'm sorry to say November 9th completely slipped my mind. Worse yet, I didn't realize I'd forgotten to post until days later. Usually my lists and schedules keep me on track but not this time. My excuse? I had a 24-year-old houseplant die, so I was a little distracted.

What's new? My futuristic m/m/f menage, Sexual Energy, is now available at Ellora's Cave.
ISBN #: 978-14199-22244
Buy Now:

video trailer
Take a tour of Planet Chromefield

Welcome to Planet Chromefield!
MALE energy is BLUE
FEMALE energy is PINK

There are only 2 ways to discharge it:
1) Exercise
2) Orgasm
Which would you rather do?

Planet Chromefield has always run on sexual energy, but due to a troubling affliction, all the men have lost their erections and all the women are insanely horny.

When virile astronaut Logan crash lands on the planet, he must agree to perform an impossible test to get home again—a test which puts him in the bed of sexy Alysa, who wants more independence and creative sex, despite the planet’s chauvinistic mores, and her fiancé Dean—whose secret desire could cost him everything.

Dazzled by his lust for them both, Logan only agrees to give them his body, but the resulting three-way bond surpasses each of their sexual fantasies and thaws his solitary heart, which just might contain the key to saving the planet…if only they can convince him to stay.

Afton Locke

Tuesday, December 8, 2009

There's a HUNK in MY Chimney!

So who's prancing around on your rooftop? Meet Rocky Claus, Santa's younger brother. Santa decided that Rocky would visit all GOOD ladies this year so Santa could concentrate on the kiddies.
Rocky is so-o-o looking forward to fitting down your chimney so he can give you one, or two, or three, or more...wonderful presents...but only if you've been "GOOD" all year!

Did you write to Santa yet? Be sure to tell him if you've been GOOD and mention how you'd like Rocky to slide down your chimney for some fun! Remember to address your letter to the North Pole...although Rocky spends his time sunning himself in warmer climates so has a wonderful tan!


My letter's been mailed and I just KNOW Rocky will fit down my chimney without a problem since I've been getting it ready for his visit. I even bought a cute red hot sheer nightie to wear that has white trim around the bottom. And with Rocky's red hat with white trim, we should compliment each other...don'tcha think? Rocky likes to wear that hat...and nothing he can present an uplifting holiday image. Plus, clothes just get in the way and make it more difficult for him to slide up and down your chimney.

Hurry, ladies. Get those letters mailed today to be put on Rocky's list. You wouldn't want him to miss your chimney, would you?

HO, HO, HO! Happy Holidays!

For more HUNK blogs, visit: (I'll post one every Monday in December)


Monday, December 7, 2009

Xmas traditions

I wrote a Xmas post last week and scheduled it to post today but cyber space seems to have wafted it away. So I'll attempt to rather quickly reproduce it. I spend a lot of my spare time this week decorating the house. I simply adore Xmas. Don't have a real tree anymore as I'm against cutting all those beautiful firs down, but have a small artificial one that works just fine. So the house looks lovely. We live only a few miles from the Ecke poinsettia farm, which supplies over 90% of the poinsettias in the United States. Naturally I concentrate on them.

I have a Xmas tradition passed down from my grandmother to me, and now my daughter and granddaughter. We burn a bayberry candle on Xmas eve. It must be burned to the socket,and bayberry candles are getting harder and harder to find. The verse I learned is "A bayberry candle, burned to the socket, brings health to the home and wealth to the pocket." The candle must be bayberry and it must be allowed to burn itself out. Often we've placed the candle in the kitchen sink for safety and let it burn. For some reason I'm obsessive about this. Anybody wanna analyze me?

I'm gonna add a quotation from Eleanor Roosevelt which seems appropriate. "One's philosophy is not best expressed in words; it is expressed in the choices one makes. In the long run we shape our lives and we shape ourselves. The process never ends until we die. And the choices we make are ultimately our own responsibility." Something to think about as I chase around this week looking for bayberry candles.

Friday, December 4, 2009

New Release: Rx FOR TRUST

PRESCRIPTION FOR TRUST (Rx FOR TRUST) was released yesterday by The Wild Rose Press and is available at in ebook and paperback.

Rx FOR TRUST, the first book in the Doctor’s Order series, is a sweet and spicy medical romance that will make you smile, laugh and cry— the story of two psychiatrists with conflicting theories on how to treat their patients and tame their own emotions.

The story’s theme revolves around a famous saying by Walter Scott: “Oh what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive.”

Short Synopsis: Olivia Crane, a psychiatrist at Cincinnati University Hospital, is a woman with a troubled past and secrets by the bucket-load. Dr. Luc George, the French psychiatrist, she loved ten years ago, detests secrets. All hell breaks loose when Luc strolls into her office, with a confident smile and a perceptive eye, determined to rekindle their relationship and threatening to unravel the secrets of her thorny past. Can Luc win Olivia’s trust and love before her inner fears destroy their second chance at happiness?

“We should live in the present,” he whispered against her mouth and kissed her again with the passion she’d never forgotten.

When she managed to breathe, she cradled his cheeks in her hands and smiled. “Can I invite you upstairs for a drink?”

His gaze locked on hers, peering into her soul. “Have I convinced you? Do you really want me to come?”

“I really want you.” She sealed her words with a kiss on his lips.

“In that case, I could use a Cognac.” He stroked her hair and offered her a dazzling smile before opening the car door and walking her to her apartment.

She felt strong, confident, elated with his arm around her waist. Anticipation warmed her belly with spiraling flames. She’d been waiting for this moment for ten long years.

When they entered her apartment, she switched the lights on and closed the door behind them. “Make yourself comfortable,” she said as she kicked off her high-heeled pumps.

Luc removed his jacket and bowtie, and undid the top button of his shirt. He looked around him, surveying the living room. “Nice place you have here. It is exactly as I expected, neat, elegant and cozy.” He pointed to a Monet painting above the white leather couch. “And you put in a French touch.”

“Always. I can’t live without the French touch.”

He grinned and strolled toward the credenza that served as a buffet and a bar.

“Is there anything else we need to talk about? I mean about your many lady friends,” she said as he poured two drinks with as much ease as if he lived in this apartment.

“Non. No more mention of other women. But I can talk about you all night long and never be bored.” He gave her a glass and clicked his against hers. “A la tienne. To you.”


He swirled the golden liquid, brought it to his nose and inhaled. “C’est bon. Very good.” He drained it and refilled it for himself. “Do you remember our last time together?”

“The time you told me you were leaving?”

“And you told me you never wanted to see me again because your career was more important than empty feelings. No. That’s a day I have tried hard to forget. I was talking about the last time we...hmm...made love.”

“Oh.” Heat crept up her neck and face.

“We came back from your graduation party straight to your little student apartment. You wore a black silk dress like tonight and this pearl necklace. Your hair was floating down your back. We had a glass of Chardonnay.”

She brought her hand to her throat. God, he hadn’t forgotten any details. “I-I remember.”

“You gave me a soft kiss.”

“As usual you changed it into a torrid one.”

He came toward her, seized her hand and led her to the couch. “And do you remember I pulled you onto my lap, just like now.” He dropped onto the leather sofa and dragged her down with him. His hands trailed up her arms, skimmed her shoulders. The feather-like caress strayed to her throat, sending a tingle of pleasure all the way to her belly.

And here she thought she’d never sit on his lap again. She basked in the intimacy of their position. “I remember the scent of your cologne, amber and spice.” Closing her eyes, she nuzzled his neck and inhaled. “The same as you have on today.”

“Oh my darling.” Cupping her face between his palms, he captured her mouth in a deep kiss that left her breathless. When he released her, he smiled and his eyes twinkled with merriment. “Let’s remember more things. I unclasped your necklace, and then I unzipped your dress. Like this.” He removed her jewelry, lowered her bodice down her arms, and exposed her black lace bra.

“And then—” He swiftly unclasped her bra and eased it away. His gaze flickered from one breast to the other, warming her with anticipated pleasure. “Gorgeous,” he whispered as he raised his eyes. Raw desire blazed in their blue depth and mirrored her own excitement.

Mesmerized, she hooked her arms around his neck, snuggled against his chest and breathed the masculine smell that made her dizzy with want.

“And then… Like this?” She smiled, ready to give as good as she got. “Your shirt has to go.” The buttons snapped open to reveal the muscular chest she’d recalled more than once in her fantasies. “Beautiful.”

He chuckled when she mimicked his words and moves, and with a swift motion he threw his shirt away, but when she contoured his nipples with her tongue, he stiffened, his arousal pushing into her thigh.

“Where is your bedroom, chérie?”

Mona Risk writes romantic suspense for Cerridwen Press: TO LOVE A HERO and FRENCH PERIL and medical romance in the genre of ER and Grey's Anatomy for The Wild Rose Press: BABIES IN THE BARGAIN and Rx FOR TRUST. All books are available at

Upcoming Release!

December crept up on me almost without me noticing it and I'm not even going to talk about how fast November seemed to fly by with me barely able to catch my breath. I've just realized that I have a release coming up in SEVEN short days and haven't even thought about promo. So I'm going to begin here.

First off, here's the very gorgeous cover to Vampire's Witch. The cover art department is fabulous. I previously posted an excerpt of the beginning here, so here's something a little hotter.


Serena Blackwood can’t believe it when she learns she’s becoming a vix. Finding that she has to work with sexy vampire Marcus Castillo to catch a rogue vampire only adds to her stress. She’s unbelievably attracted to the hunky man but knows staying near him will increase the chances of her jumping his bones—and Marcus discovering her secret.

Marcus knows the witch working with his team is hiding something. She’s beautiful and talented and he wants to know the mysteries she’s hiding almost as much as he needs to know the feel of her body moving against his.

But the rogue has plans of his own and unless Serena and marcus work together, they could lose everything.

(There might be differences between this version and the final edited version.) Set-up: Serena and Marcus are in a bar looking for the rogue vampire they're hunting.

They walked toward the back, even looking into the employee’s area. As they made their way around the dance floor, a young man dancing wildly crashed into her. She stumbled into Marcus. He caught her and whirled her away from the man. She gasped as she felt her feet leave the floor and a sense of moving fast. Just as she registered his body against hers and the wall at her back, it was gone. He stood in front of her, his back to her. His muscles tensed and he seemed ready for attack. She shook her head, smiling as she looked beyond him. The dancer hadn’t even noticed that he’d bumped her and was even now among the other dancers continuing his wild moves on the floor.

Slowly Marcus’ body relaxed. He turned to face her. Her smile slowly died. His brown eyes focused on her with undisguised hunger.

“Everything’s fine. There’s no danger here.” She put her hands up on his chest. She had no idea why he’d turned toward her. He was sure that there was no one attacking them. They should be continuing their stroll around the club, but she could tell that that was the last thing on his mind. There was no way that she could mistake the possessiveness and lust rolling off of him.

He didn’t say a word. Stepping forward, his hands flattened on the wall at her shoulders. She drew in a sharp breath. His head lowered and he inhaled.

“You smell so good.” His lips feathered across her cheek.

“You need to relax, calm down. Nothing happened,” she urged in a soft voice. She could practically see the energy changing into arousal. Somehow, she had to calm him down. Not to mention get his mind off of her in any sexual manner. She didn’t want him to see her as anything more than the witch helping them catch the rogue. She didn’t need any more trouble in her life right now.

His teeth closed over her lips. Her focus narrowed to the feel of his mouth on hers. She wanted that, ached for it. His tongue traced her lips. Her lips tingled. She opened her mouth, leaning into him. But it couldn’t happen, shouldn’t happen.

His tongue stroked into her mouth. His taste rushed into her mouth, minty and smooth. She groaned. So good. She pushed against his chest, trying to wedge some distance between them. She couldn’t resist tangling her tongue with his or savoring his taste. His chest brushed against her hardened nipples as he moved slightly from side to side. That light graze sent a thrill shooting through her. Her breasts felt swollen, too sensitive. His hand cupped the curve of one full mound.

“Marcus!” A deep voice broke through the haze surrounding her.

She blinked. Reality flooded in just as Marcus pulled back, turning toward the man who’d interrupted them. She didn’t know what had just happened, how the arousal had just exploded with that kiss. Nothing like that had ever happened before.

Tuesday, December 1, 2009


My big news this month is that NETTLEFLOWER, our historical novel, is now available in a real hold-in-the-hand book! I haven't got my paws on a copy yet, though, as it's not yet available anywhere but from JJ> However, my local indie bookshop is trying to get copies for the launch in January (There are advantages to working in the local library!) but on the other hand the big chains have never heard of JJ and although interested, have to use their own suppliers.

It's very frustrating.

So here a question -- is there anyone out there (not writing erotica) who has had the same problems getting their books into stores?

And how do I get around it?

Friday, November 27, 2009


My best friend came across a quote from Larry Flynt today that struck me as funny. He said..."Murder is illegal, writing about it is not. Sex is not illegal, but writing about it is. Why?" Not looking at what he does, just at what he said, I have to say that it is funny. And sadly kind of true even today.
I'm often stopped by people who know that I write just not what. They are so excited to talk to me, ask questions about how I got started and where they can find a book. Some are not so happy when they realize that I write erotica. I've even been told more than once, "So you write porn?" Usually with a sneer and a condescending look. I have to say that I find that amusing as well.
I don't write porn. It is not what our industry is about. There are no pictures here. It is a story of words, very descriptive words that hopefully paint a picture for the reader. We write about sex with no apologies for it. And we demand that our sex be the very best. No shades of grey here. No missionary with the lights off. Here it is as bad as you fanticize it to be, as rough as you want it, and as stimulating as you can handle.
It saddens me that even today we are labled and judged not by the person we are, but often by working in an industry that most seem afraid of. Erotica is not a bad thing. Sex is not bad. Sex is a natural part of who we are. And writing about it in detail does not make me any less or more than anyone else. I am a mom, a damn good one. I am a friend, a confident, and when I chose, a lover. I have fears and uncertainties...just not in the bedroom. I've loved. I've laughed. And yeah, I've shed my fair share of tears.
But bottom line is that I am a single mom who writes. This is the path that I have chosen to take to help me take care of my families financial needs. I'm not the But I'm not the worst either. I'm just a woman. I cannot be defined by what I write anymore than Stephen King can. Writing sex doesn't make me something cheap or dirty. Just as writing murder doesn't make you a killer.
Just my take on a quote that I found interesting.

Lacey Thorn
It's your world...unlaced

Thursday, November 26, 2009

New Release! Jillian's Job

Jillian's Job

Fran Lee

What good is a dream income, access to a private jet, all the perks that go with being Mike Furie’s überproficient personal assistant, if Jillian has no life? She wants a life with a man in it. And staying with overbearing, totally sexy, self-serving bachelor Mike, will lead nowhere.

A trip to Aspen to “rescue” Mike from the clutches of the latest woman seeking to sink her claws into him, an excess of champagne to fortify her, and she tells him what she thinks of his high-handed tactics. She’s quitting. Again. So how the hell did she end up in bed with him in a Tahoe honeymoon suite, naked? Why can’t she recall how her signature got on that marriage license?

Mike discovers talents he never knew Jill possessed. Now he has her right where he wants her. And he wants her again…and again. In his bed and under him. But it’s not all about the lust, and if he gets his way, Jillian won’t be leaving his side, or his bed—ever.


She stepped up the final carpeted stair and paused, glancing around the smaller salon that opened up over the gallery at the head of the stairs, before narrowing to the corridor that led to the bedrooms at the back of the level. The bronze and smoked glass chandelier at the apex of the vaulted ceiling cast warm light over the area, and made her shimmery gold overdress and glittering jewels look even more amazing than they had in the showroom. She decided that not a soul would recognize her unless she introduced herself, so she gathered her courage and moved slowly toward the center of the gallery, looking about for Furie.

Heads turned to follow her progress, but no one called out her name. She was not a familiar face to the beautiful people. Only his employees knew her well enough to recognize her. Her anonymity was assured.

And then she saw him, standing uncomfortably in a tight group of people, with a stunningly beautiful supermodel type holding onto his arm like she had grown there, her laugh a high tinkle of feigned amusement that never quite reached those gorgeous amber-colored eyes. She stood for a long moment, relishing the amount of discomfort he was experiencing, waiting for his eyes to swivel her way before she made her grand entrance.

A man turned to glance at her from a jovial conversation beside her, and gave her a keen once-over before sidling up to her and introducing himself. He didn’t have to. She would known his face from the magazine covers and the tabloids as Jerrod Lane, two-time Academy Award winning actor and heartthrob of millions of females the world over. She glanced at him with a cool smile and replied to his outrageous compliment with a simple thank-you, before turning her gaze back to her boss.

“I haven’t seen you around before. And from the look of that boulder on your hand, I’d say you were taken…but Heaven help me, I wouldn’t be a red-blooded male if I didn’t try.” Jerrod slid one lean hand around her waist, and tried to draw her closer. His reward was an acid stare that could have wilted the entire White River National Forest. He grinned and released her waist, and said in a husky tone that had dropped an octave, “Who’s the lucky devil who’s got you wrapped around his pinkie?”

The moment he spoke, Michael Furie glanced up, his ice-laden dark blue gaze locked with hers, and his body unfurled from the defensive posture he’d assumed, forcing the female hanger-on to loosen her grip. Jill tried not to look shaken. She tried not to react to the heat that ran through her like a shot of fire from head to toe-tips, making her wonder numbly if the Manolo Blahniks had melted off. She smiled across the room at him, and Jerrod followed her gaze, instantly whistling softly and backing off a step.

“I should have guessed, Gorgeous. But if you ever decide to trade up, I’m always around.” He vacated his spot beside her as Furie slowly extracted himself from the other woman’s grasp, with a quiet “Excuse me.” Heads turned as he stepped out of the tight knot of bodies and moved across the gallery toward her, and she fought the urge to bite her knuckles and whimper. That man had such a walk!

She managed a brilliant smile up into his eyes as he stopped so close, she could feel his body heat through the silk of her gown, and she placed her hand with the blinding rock on it on his forearm, and said just loudly enough to be overhead for about ten feet, “Mike! Darling! I’m sorry I’m late!”

She noted the circuitous route those eyes took as they slipped over her gown, her jewelry, and the impressively breathtaking engagement ring she was prominently displaying, and a muscle twitched in the deep groove beside his mouth. He seemed to be fighting some dark and angry emotion that she feared she would hear about later, and in the most uncomplimentary tones possible, but surprisingly, he gave her a sexily crooked smile.

“Don’t I even get a kiss after waiting all this time for you to finally show up?” His voice was a sexy growl that was just loud enough for everyone within ten feet to hear clearly, although he pretended to be speaking for her ears alone. Jill felt like they were in a fishbowl, the way all eyes were glued to them. She stood up on her tiptoes and aimed for his cheek. But before her lips made contact, he turned his head and she ended up planting one smack-dab on his smiling mouth. And oh, what a mouth the man had…

And he didn’t settle just for a friendly kiss. He slid his arms around her body and dragged her up against his chest, smoothly covering her jerk of shock by catching the back of her head in the palm of one hand and slanting his mouth to take hers completely. His strong, champagne-flavored tongue slipped easily past her lips as she opened them to ask what the hell he was doing. Her heart rate ratcheted up as he traced the inside of her mouth sensuously. If she hadn’t known her boss so damned well, that kiss might have fooled even her, but she figured he had paid through the nose to be kissed, and she decided that she might as well let ’er rip.

Warring with his tongue, she explored the warm depths of his mouth as she slid her hands up behind his head and arched her body into his tuxedo, pressing her hips against his suddenly burgeoning cock, ignoring the rush of excitement his highly obvious arousal gave her, as she did exactly what she had wanted to do for the past six-plus years.

She kissed him—savagely, hungrily, possessively! Giving as good as she got from him, even though with him it was just an act to discourage the positively fuming blonde who had turned and stomped off toward the stairs back to the second level.

His mouth was decadently hot and delicious. The expensive champagne was dry and heady on his tongue, and she could not possibly have imagined how it would feel to have him kissing her like this—not even in her wildest wet dreams! His hot, spicy masculine scent filled her nostrils. Her heart felt like a super ball that might easily zap its way straight out the front of her silk gown and go bouncing wildly across the carpet if he kept kissing her.

Tongues tangling voraciously, breathing uneven and heated, their bodies were plastered hungrily against each other as his arms pulled her so tight into his embrace she could almost feel his spine. And then his hand cupped her ass in a familiar, possessive squeeze, and she inhaled and tried to back away. He murmured huskily against her lips, “Relax. You’ll survive.”

She would smack him upside the head later.

Sunday, November 22, 2009

Sixty Years!

I've always wondered why people get so uptight about their birthdays. Personally, I think every birthday is a blessing. After all the alternative is not a lovely picture.

I'm sixty years old today. When I was ten, that was unimaginable. When I was twenty, the day was far off when I would turn sixty. Now I'm here and I'm wondering how I got here. What happened? I'm not ready to be sixty already. I still have a lot of things to do.

Sixty is a pretty significant number, you know? So in order to celebrate with my friends and readers, I'm having a Birthday Bash at Joyfully Reviewed from 7 PM to 10 PM EST! Drop by and say hello! If you're a writer bring an excerpt to post. If you just want to chat with the guests, then come on over and talk! If you don't belong to the loop, the link is up on Joyfully Reviewed.

Earlier in the afternoon the house hunk is going to take us all out to Don Pablos for Mexican food. I always love to eat Mexican food and the restaurant is family friendly.

Until tonight...blessings on your day!


Saturday, November 21, 2009

Feeling Juicy? Erm, creatively?

Where do you write?

I pretty much write everywhere. Once in my life have I ever raised my head from my pillow in the middle of the night to jot down a plot. Twice more I should have because I promptly forgot the "perfect story" by the time morning rolled around. Once more time, I woke with lyrics for a love song in my head and only remembered half of them. No worried there. The lyrics were far better in my semi unconscious state.

I've been known to work out a plot predicament on the bedding paper in my doctor's office a few times. She's used to it and pays me no attention. I've never written on a dental bib. Three times I jotted notes on a cocktail napkin, one time on a paper dinner napkin, another time-accidentally-on the fold down table of an airplane, so wrapped in my thoughts that I didn't realize I'd forgotten to take out paper. The airline staff was not amused. I was. Clorox took it right off after I'd transferred it.

Two instances I made notes on paper table cloth. One of those was on a date. He bored me. It was here I learned that one should never go on a date with a man who takes you to a sports bar if your intention is to learn more about him than the color of his nasal mucus. His head cocked back, mouth open in rapture at the elevated screen of football players was more than I could stand of his excitement to be in my presence... so I left his, figuratively.

Coffee shops, bakeries, restaurants with friends and their laptops, hotel rooms, my apartment... they are all fair game for working. It is fortunate that my primary computer is a laptop then, no? I'd hate to haul around a hard drive on my hip and monitor beneath my arm. Doesn't leave one place to hold her coffee. My niece, bless her, understands this and discovered that not only is my laptop red, but so is my portable hard drive for back ups. She promptly set me to rights with a red and black Swiss computer bag. All matchy-matchy and beautifully my favorite color.

And when I'm alone in the confines of my apartment, I sit cross-legged in an overstuffed chair, my back to the corner in utter silence. I may have to close the drapes to avoid the Johnson visual swinging across the courtyard, but no matter. It is in this chair, tucked legs, drink by my side, where the majority of my work is done.

In case my boss is reading... No, of course I never, ever email the latest chapter to my office inbox and likewise never add to it and send it home again. Not I.

Friday, November 20, 2009

A Rose by Any Other Name

My senior moments are catching up with me. Wednesday night when I went to bed, my thoughts were focused on this blog and an idea came to me. Not wanting to turn on the light and disturb my bedmate, I assured myself I’d remember exactly what I wanted to write. And of course, upon waking Thursday morning, I couldn’t remember a bloody thing! Desperate, I let my mind drift and achieved that semi-sleep, semi-awake stage where ideas emerge and then get lost—some never to be seen again.

I don’t know what circuitous route my mind took, but it eventually arrived at Shakespeare and the title of this piece. Ah ha! I intended to write about how I chose my pen name. Which, now that I think about it, really isn’t all that interesting. Well…the first name “Dee” is kind of fun, but not all that intriguing. Except I’d never had a nickname until this lovely actor friend started greeting me with “Hi, Dee, didee.”

But one thing I did learn through this lost-and-found adventure is that I can no longer rely on memory. I must put a notebook and pen by my bed—just in case the plot for the best ever erotic, futuristic, paranormal, fantasy tiptoes in along with my dreams. Which I can’t remember either. Anyway, I know for a fact that my bedmate can sleep through anything, so my turning on the light won’t bother him at all.

Okay! Found the notebook. Now where did I put that pen?


Dee Brice

Tuesday, November 17, 2009

A bite of my new cherry, AT HER SERVICE out Nov. 30 plus my new video

Dear All, YES! I am getting better from my broken wing and sprained ankle. Sights have NOT been pretty at my house! But I am getting better and can type for a few minutes a day 2-handed!!!! WHEW! What a relief! I have never broken a bone so this has been quite a WILD experience.
Do not want to go here again.
On to the good stuff!
FIRST, a reminder to continue allllll the way to the bottom of this post and watch my new trailer for AT HER SERVICE! Come to my own blog too for the introductory excerpt! SLURP!
Introducing my medieval romantica, AT HER SERVICE out Nov. 30 from, I am delighted to tell you about my newest cherry!
Here, a lovely childless countess must bear an heir—or lose her lands, her honor—and her life. The man sent to sire a child with her is none other than the one who grew up fostered in her father’s castle as a boy—and the man Elise has yearned for lo, all the lonely years since he left.
A taste of AT HER SERVICE!
Circling up, up, up the winding tower that was the back entrance to their private rooms, Elise heard no one behind her. She breathed deeply in relief for that. Simon would not dare to come to them in full view of Alphonse’s retainers and servants. Simon might be under her husband’s thrall, but he would not leave the hall after her and, thus, make the servants aware of what his mission was.
She pushed open her husband’s bedroom door. It creaked, an eerie sound that sent shivers up her spine. But the warmth of the hearth fire, always blazing in the winter’s snow, rushed out to bathe her face and welcome her inside.
“Close the door, Elise.”
At the distinctive husky tone she could still identify after all these lonely years, she paused with one foot upon the threshold. She watched in amazement as Simon unfolded himself from the chair nearest the door and stood to his ungodly height. Anger flooded her at Simon’s impertinence of speaking to her before her husband bid her enter. Her gaze shot to Alphonse who lay beneath a pile of woollens and silks, snoring, his thin face grey, his mouth lax, his once manly frame reduced to a skinny child’s.
Simon took a step forward and extended his hand to the chair opposite his. “Come.” His rough bass voice flowed across the expanse of the chamber like thick molasses over her senses, her body warming to his sensuous tone. Simon’s merest words could entangle and enslave her.
Against his allure , she braced her spine. “How did you get in?”
Mere feet away, she noted how his silver eyes shown like the hard coin he would take for his service to her. “Your husband gave the order to his steward.”
“He should have told me, asked me,” she objected without regard to wake her husband, clenching her fists in fear at Cleve’s knowledge. Her voice bore her outrage that she could not countermand the great earl of Atherton, even as he lay dying in his bed.
Simon strolled forward, his head high, his expression earnest and pleading. Beneath his breath, he spoke to her alone. “The steward put me in the room below.” He nodded towards her alcove and the private winding stairs down to his tiny room. “We must talk.”
“No.” What good was talk? She was chained to Alphonse’s bargain and bound up in a torment wanting Simon de la Poer but knowing she should not have him. Yet she would take him to her to please Alphonse. Aye, and in the taking, she would also surely please herself. She snorted, stepped fully into the cosy apartment and shut the door to the world below.
“You need to know—”
“I want to know nothing.”
“That,” he whispered as he stepped close to her and threaded his long, supple fingers under her wimple up into the coil of her hair, “is a lie.”
She flinched backwards, wrenching to escape his reach. “You must do as I say. Agree or this will not happen at all.”
(Copyright 2009, Cerise DeLand)
Come to my blog for more nibbles:

Watch my new trailer for AT HER SERVICE out Nov. 30

Sunday, November 15, 2009

Ya gotta rewrite!!!!

Ya gotta rewrite. I've just fully faced that fact, to the point I was ready to throw out my computer. I can't say it any better than Ed McBain does. "The only true creative aspect of novel writing is the first draft. That's when it's coming straight from your head and your heart, a direct tapping into your unconcious. The rest is donkey work. It is, however, donkey work that must be must rewrite."

I just finished the most serious rewriting I've ever done. Can't tell you how hard it was. For the first time my wonderful editor took objection to almost everything in the book. Mostly concerning the plot line, which made perfect sense to me and was completely illogical to her. After the inital shock of her unxpected reaction I buckled down. A trifle indignantly at first, I must admit, but gradually realizing she was right. As usual. Let me tell you I've never labored so at fixing a ms. It's done now and accepted and it's the thirteenth book I've written to be published. Any symbolism in the thirteen? Don't wanna even think about that.

This the first Quest book and it's about the twins Jason and Jono. Jason sets off for Ireland to find himself as a separate entity, and Jono is too shocked to gracefully accept Jason's decision. Quest for Love will come out in May.
The cover shows when Jason goes outside to sleep by a campfire, afraid he'll try to seduce Aislinn if he stays in the cabin. She follows him, and guess what happens!

Quest for Magic (about Jono) is finished and I'm moving on to the next member of my Mage series, Songs of the Mages. It will be called Victoria's Vision and tells about the youngest child in the Earl of Sinclair's family.

Always something to do, although I certainly prefer the writing to the editing. Whoosh, I hope that's the worse rewrite I have to ever do.

Sunday, November 8, 2009


Before I start and you get to see the Thanksgiving Hunks near the bottom of the blog, here's a reminder: Vote 12-30 November in NIGHT OWL ROMANCE'S KISS SCENE CONTEST! Go to:

Reviews can both deflate an author's ego or give it a giant boost. My latest erotic romance book, "Sexy Games" by April Ash, received a great I'm very thankful for receiving!

Diana Coyle of Night Owl Romance gave it a 5 HEARTS, REVIEWER TOP PICK. She said:
"I thought this was a fantastic story from the start. I loved the creative storyline and enjoyed that Sloane and Stacy were going to “work” together for one whole week. I hoped that even though they were using the games as the excuse for their spending time together, that they would open up to each other and see where they really stood with one another. I thought Stacy was perfect for Sloane and I only wished that he would eventually see that himself. Ms. Ash is a very talented storyteller and she knows how to transport you into her storyline with ease. Well done, Ms. Ash!"


Naughty Games Company Invitation: Test new games. Consenting adults. Male-female. Company penthouse. One week. Associates of NGC only.

Invitee employee Stacy Newman accepts. Betrayed by a past ex-fiancé, her goal is to concentrate on her career, sell a game idea to NGC, and open her own store.
Invitee Sloane Hoffman, son of NGC’s CEO, accepts. He knows his dad wants him to take over the company. He’s been hurt and used by past lovers only after his money and what he could do for them.
Months earlier, they shared a night of passion but a panicked Sloane left without a word when Stacy inspired thoughts of “commitment” and “settling down”. His disappearance left her heartsick.
As game partners they’ll test games that require role-playing and sex. Undeniable lust and mutual desire quickly resurfaces, and they agree to a business-only venture. They choose games called “Hot Sands” (sheik and bride-to-be), “Teach Me” (nerdy professor and stripper/lap dancer) and “Royal Romps” (Lady and butler).
Spending time together offers chances to learn more about each other, fall in love, and share passionate sexual adventures. But, two misunderstandings occur, threatening to pull them apart once again, this time forever.

Here's a Thanksgiving treat for you:
Photo By jd_the_linguist
Cerridwen Press:
Breathless Press:

"Anything You Can Do" Release Date TBA
Ellora's Cave:
5 HEARTS, Diana Coyle, Night Owl Romance, REVIEWER TOP PICK

Saturday, November 7, 2009

up a tree

My mind is so full of promoting and writing my latest book, Quest for Magic, I can think of little else. In the midst of all this I've been plagued for almost a month by the tune Deep Purple. Isn't that weird? Is the term for this musical fuzz? Anyway every word came back to me from some far corner of my brain and I can't get the damn thing out of my head. A month is a long time for one tune, even for me, and I'm constantly the servant of one tune or another. This is driving me bonkers. Some new tune will replace it soon, at least I hope so, but I've often got some melody lingering past the time I want to get rid of it.

And I'm trying to turn my last book into erotica. I must say it's fun. Deeply sensual is easy for me, but erotic is harder. To make it more difficult, the time of this book is 1921 and some erotica buzz words weren't used then, so I have to be careful. Some of my fellow authors at Jasmine Jade have been extremely, helpful. Way beyond the call of duty.
I find writing buddies are uniformly wonderful. Here's an excerpt from my WIP.

Exulting, he again lowered his lips to hers and let some of his ardor free. Opening his mouth, he licked and teased her lips until she opened hers. Still being careful, he tentatively advanced his tongue into her warm crevasses, and when she didn’t try to stop him he loosed more of his passion and caressed every nook of her sweet mouth. To his delight, she seemed to be learning and liking this kind of kissing. She quickly turned enthusiastic. She sent her own tongue mingling with his.
She sighed his name, but it came out as a plea, not a reproach.
Knowing his control was slipping, Jono turned his mouth to her breasts.
Looking into her expectant and ardent eyes, he began to undress her. She made no protest, although her whole body blushed. Like a ripe peach about to be plucked for his pleasure. Keeping his eye on her reactions, he set to the most pleasurable task of his life. With delight, he saw she wore nothing but a slip and her panties. Her firm breasts showed plainly erect and he lowered the straps to her slip and before she could say anything transferred his mouth to the peaks.
She moaned and tried to twist away, but he held her firm and caressed every inch of her breasts and then moved his mouth to her flat stomach. When he and kissed licked her belly button she caught her breath with a little shriek. He attacked her thighs and moved his busy mouth to the insides, spreading her with his legs as he kissed her along the upper skin of hers, growing ever closer to his heart’s desire.
She watched him through her gold tipped lashes, as he strove for more self-control than he’d ever exerted with any woman. He wanted her so ready for him she’d explode along with him.

There you are, guys. I find writing erotica is downright fun. Hope you enjoyed reading it.

Wednesday, November 4, 2009

Flash Fiction--The Thief

Today, I'd like to share a bit of flash fiction and I hope you enjoy it. The original inspiration came from a movie I was watching just before Halloween. I don't know if it will grow into a story of it's own, but it's giving me some definite ideas.

The Thief

Liesa hurried down the crowded street. She moved as fast as she could without drawing attention to herself. She chanced a glance back over her shoulder. Still there. Dressed completely in black, the man stood out amid the sea of color worn by
those around him. Who the fuck was he? He definitely wasn't with the city guards. He wasn't wearing the bright red uniform and he wasn't ordering her to stop. Still, she was sure he was following her. No matter how many turns she made, he was right behind her. She couldn't lose him. He was definitely after something and she had a feeling it was the relic she'd just stolen. She was just lucky she was near the exchange point. After that, it didn't matter if the man caught up to her.

She saw her friend Darnell as she entered the town square. Water showered from a statue into a pool in the center of the large primarily cobbled area. The paving was broken only by squares of grass and carefully cultivated flowers. He stood near the ornate fountain. She saw him start walking and knew that he'd intercept her at a point about halfway across the square. She didn't worry about his pace or hers just kept walking and concentrated on making this the cleanest pass of her life. She didn't want the relic stolen before they even collected their pay for it. As Darnell brushed past her, she slipped the chalice into his hand. It was up to him to conceal it before anyone saw it.

She kept going, hoping to draw her follower away from Darnell. She continued hurrying through the city. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw the man in black clothes still behind her.

A few strands of long glossy black hair hung over his shoulder undoubtedly blown there by the light breeze. He didn't look happy. His eyes were narrowed and his lips set in a frown. She turned her attention back to the city streets and getting somewhere unoccupied. She'd like to put some distance between them and now that she had nothing to fear from any guard stopping her, she intended to do it.

He didn't look like a thief. The thought flashed through her head. He was muscled and tall. His broad shoulders and large frame wouldn't lend themselves to tight spaces. Not to mention the fact that the whip and the short sword at his waist did make him stand out a bit. Most of the male thieves she knew were short and wiry. They could go anywhere, blend in with almost any crowd. That man would stand out and not just because of his size. His eyes were a riveting green. The combination of that with high cheekbones and a strong jaw gave him a hard male beauty that drew the eyes of male and female alike.

She turned onto an empty street and exhaled heavily. Finally. Not pausing a moment longer, she ran. Her shoes made almost no sound on the stone street. When she heard the staccato thud of boots on the pavement, she knew she wasn't going to lose the man easily. Her eyes scanned the street ahead. There had to be somewhere she could go that he couldn't. Finally, she saw a thin pipe going up the outside of one of the larger, dark brown stone buildings. She'd have to take the chance that it would hold and that her shoes wouldn't slip on the stone. It was probably a warehouse, but she didn't care right now.

Taking a running leap, she grabbed the pipe and began climbing. The wall wasn't as smooth as she feared and she managed to get up to the top without tumbling back to the stone paving. She looked back down and saw the man stop at the base of the building. She waved to him and then took off at an angle across the roof.

At the other side, she hung down and dropped to the ground before turning and running again. Relief flooded through her when the only sound she could hear was the soft scuff of her own shoes and the normal sounds of the city. Her thighs began to ache and her throat felt dry and rough. She wanted to stop and just walk, get a chance to catch her breath, but there was no time. She didn't slow down and kept going because she wouldn't be safe until she was out of the city. She saw the bridge that separated the more genteel side. A smile crossed her face. On the other side of that bridge were the working docks and a man who'd take her out of this city. Nearly there.

She rushed to get across the bridge. About halfway across, she saw a man step out of the shadows of a building and into the center of the road in front of her. He had long gleaming black hair and piercing green eyes. Dressed entirely in black, she couldn't miss him now that he was away from the building. She stopped and stared at him. It couldn't be. She'd left him on the other side of the building. There was no way that he could have gotten in front of her. But she couldn't deny what she saw. The handsome predator was the same one who'd been chasing her. For a few moments, she didn't move, but when he started forward, her muscles unlocked. She backed away and spun.

All she saw was black. Hands clasped her arms, holding her. She tilted her head back and looked up into riveting green eyes. She blinked and she wondered if her mind had fractured. He'd been at the other end of the bridge. She looked over her shoulder and saw the mirror image of the man holding her strolling toward them. Twins. It made sense now.

"I don't have what you want." She shook her head. She tried to pull away but the man holding her, but his hands tightened preventing her from moving away from him.

"Since you have no idea what we're after, how can you be sure of that?" The man holding her asked. His lips curved into a smile, but it wasn't at all friendly.

"I don't have anything of value." She licked her lips.

"You don't?" the man behind her asked. "Well, what we're after is very valuable."

She knew she shouldn't ask it, but the man in front of her wasn't letting go and the one behind her was closing in fast. This wasn't good. "What are you after?"


Thursday, October 29, 2009

It's that time of year

Everyone's talking about Halloween ... the ghosts, goblins and everything that goes bump in the night. There are countless people on the loops and blogs discussing their favorite horror movies. Me? I'm watching "Ice Age: Dawn of the Dinosaurs" because that's more my speed. I don't do horror movies unless I'm given no other choice. (I watched "Friday the Thirteenth" in college with my hands in front of my eyes the whole time because some college roommates thought I would love it!)

I have an overactive imagination. It's one of the reasons I fell into writing. I also have a sort of photographic memory. So when I watch anything gory or scary it stays with me for-ever! Images pop up randomly. I saw a horror movie when I was 15. Some B-rated flick at a cheap cinema. To this day I can describe the movie in vivid detail to you. *shivers* Those images never go away. And it's just not worth it to add more gory images to my mental file.

Until my children were pre-teens I kept all that stuff from them. There are "children's" movies that are just downright scary in my opinion. Of course they would tell me they watched them at a friend's house. When my oldest was in second grade the "Goose Bumps" series was popular. The librarian read one of them to my daughter's class. It was enough to have her sleeping in my room for the next month. Apparently she's as sensitive as I am.

This week I was using the internet to do some research on ghosts. I'm not sure what I was looking for, but I ended up over at YouTube. I told myself not to watch those videos claiming to be about ghosts, but like a car accident on the side of the highway, my curiousity got the best of me. I flicked through a few of them. Most of them were just silly, but one or two looked real. I don't know if they were, but it was enough for me to wake in the middle of the night wondering if someone was standing over my bed.


I don't like that feeling. I don't like being scared. It's not fun. It's not entertaining. It's just creepy to me. So I'm curious. Do you like scary movies? I'd love to know why or why not.

Believe it or not Nina writes paranormal stories about vampires and shifters. (Who totally don't creep her out.) You can find out about all her books on her Website.

Wednesday, October 28, 2009

Why I Love Hot Alpha Males

I love alpha males because they are so macho, yet without being overbearing. The respect he women they love and aren't afraid to show it. And for those in black ops/special ops, my favorite kind to write about, they have an air of nystique I can't seem to resist.

In Dancing With Danger, Gabriel Peralta blows in and out of Rachel Windsor's life when he can steal time from his dangerous deep undercover assignment. But then his cover is blown and Rachel is caught up in the case with him. But for a man like Gabe, she doesn't mind Dancing With Danger.

“How did you get in here, anyway?” She had committed the extensive list to memory and she knew for sure his name hadn’t been there. “The guest list is completely vetted and our security is top notch.”
He chuckled softly. “Yes, I know that. But I have connections. How long do you have to stay here?” he murmured in her ear.
“The Harrises usually expect me until the bitter end. How long are you here for this time?”
“Two days. Can you leave early?”
The orchestra had segued into another slow, romantic tune and their bodies moved in perfect harmony. He danced with an unexpected grace, the muscles in his thighs flexing as he moved. She could feel his heart beating where he enfolded her hand against his chest and the thick ridge of his cock pressed against her soft flesh through the fabric of their clothing.
His hand caressed the nape of her neck, sending shivers down her spine and he pressed his cock more tightly against her. “Rachel, I have to see you naked. I’m so hard for you right now I’m doing my best not to lose control here in a public place.”
“I can’t leave,” she protested weakly, although she wanted nothing more than to run out the door with him. “What would I tell my bosses?”
They continued to move in time to the music, his pelvis grinding against hers, the sleek muscles of his thighs flexing with each step. One hand drifted down to cup the cheeks of her ass, pressing the light fabric of her dress into the cleft.
“People can see us.” She tried to reach back and rearrange the dress but he grabbed her hand and pulled it against him, trapping it between their bodies.
“They’re all too busy being seen by other people.” He bent his head so his mouth was close to her ear. “I love your ass. Do you remember the first time I fucked you there, Rachel? How hot it made you feel? How you loved my cock filling your hole? How hard you came?”
If he didn’t stop talking to her she would implode right there on the dance floor. Already she could feel her cream soaking the crotch of her thong and pantyhose and sticking to the insides of her thighs. The moistened fabric rubbed against her skin as she moved in the steps of the dance. Rather than causing a feeling of irritation, it only aroused her more.
“Gabe, please,” she whispered.
“Please what?” His head moved and his lips pressed against her hair. “Please fuck you? Please suck your sweet little pussy? Stick my tongue way inside until it scrapes the little sweet spot that sends you into orbit? Please make you come in a hundred different ways? Jesus, Rachel, watching you come is awe-inspiring.”
The music shifted into something with a stronger beat and Gabe’s body shifted with it. He was a smooth dancer, much more accomplished than she would have expected. He had a natural grace and rhythm that reminded her of a jungle cat. Maybe a panther, dark and sleek like him. Every shift of his hips, every dip and sway, increased the friction of his cock against her and the arousing feeling of the cloth between the cheeks of her buttocks.
“We need to get out of here,” he told her, tightening his grip on her. “Right now.”

Get it at Ellora's Cave

Tuesday, October 27, 2009

Finding Home

This is the title of my newest release from Total-E-Bound. And it is a step in a new direction for me. Finding Home doesn't really have a bad guy or any paranormal element. It is simply the story of a woman who is trying to find where home is. She runs out on her wedding day swearing never to go back but one phone call changes that. Her father is ill and Andy simply cannot stay away from the man who has always loved her. Going home isn't easy...especially when your sister is married to your ex fiance and your mother still criticizes your choices. But then sometimes things aren't exactly the way we perceive them. Sometimes the biggest obstacles in our lives are the ones we create ourselves. Finding Home is simply a heart felt story of one woman who is trying to do just that...find where she belongs.

Finding Home by Lacey Thorn

Sometimes home isn't a place...but a person...or in Andy's case...people.

Andy had been running for a long time. From her mother, her sister, her ex-fiancee, from life it seemed. But when an emergency calls her home she finds more than she bargained for.

With a clearer vision she sees that things aren't like she remembers. Just maybe she can finally be a part of the family she always felt different from. And in the process learn that love can often come with more than one man at a time. And that maybe a ménage can last a lifetime.

Excerpt From: Finding Home

“I know that you’re as unhappy as me, Andy. I can see it every time that I look in your eyes. There’s no love in there for me. You pull away from me when I try to touch you. You don’t return my kiss anymore. We’ve been engaged for a while now and yet we still haven’t made love. Which would be fine if it was to make our wedding day more special. But I know that isn’t the reason. We tried. We really tried, or at least I did. But I can’t spend the rest of my life with a woman who shudders away from my touch instead of under it. That wouldn’t be fair to either one of us. So I’m canceling the wedding. I’ll take care of it all myself. Because the truth is that I’ve been seeing someone else, someone who does love my touch. And that isn’t fair to any of us.”

Andrea Michelle Ebans sat in her car in front of her mother’s farm house. It had been three years since her wedding to Bryan had been canceled. She had left within hours of their conversation. And Bryan had married her sister Chloe instead. Chloe, her affectionate older sister who looked so much like their mother. Her sister was a slim 5’7” with an always perfectly coiffed blonde bob hair cut and big green eyes. She was America’s picture of the beautiful woman. And honestly, most likely a perfect match for Bryan. But it had been hard to admit that back then.

Andy was built more like the women in her father’s family. She stood 5’3” and was as curvy as they came. Her breasts were a large 38DD, and, although her stomach was flat, her ass was quite a handful. She had long brown hair that was prone to curls no matter how much she longed for her sister’s straight hair. In fact, the only thing that they shared was their green eyes.

She had only been twenty-one three years ago when she had run from home, and this was her first trip back. Her father was ill. He wanted to see his Raggedy Andy, the name he had called Andy since she was a little girl. Her mother had called and informed her that it was her duty to come home and see her father. Her mother, Claire, had despaired of her youngest daughter long ago, choosing to spend her time and effort on Chloe, who was always the perfect lady. Andy was more likely to be outside causing trouble. She had refused to wear dresses or kerb her wild ways, and eventually her mother had left her alone. Something she had always thought she wanted until she got it.

Her father, though, had always babied her. He was fond of telling her that only a dog wanted a bone. He said that a real man wanted a real woman, which is a woman with curves built for a man to embrace. When she had left, he had sent her to his sister, Carmen. Through Carmen she had learned all about what made her tick as a woman. And she was a woman, with a real woman’s needs, regardless of what had failed to happen with Bryan. However, she had received quite the education in the past three years.

Andy took a deep breath and opened the car door. This was the moment that she had both looked forward to and dreaded, coming home. Her mother stood framed in the doorway. Andy was more than aware that she had always been a disappointment to her mother, and she was sure that wouldn’t change. Her mother wouldn’t like her sex kitten image any more than she had the tomboy one. She still wore her jeans, but now they rode low on her hips showing all of her belly, including the red ruby ring that pierced her belly button. She wore a peasant style black shirt that tied just below her full breasts and left a lot of her creamy flesh exposed above her bra. She only prayed that her mother wouldn’t look hard enough to notice the faint outline of the tattoo she had on her left lower shoulder. Then again, wasn’t that part of the reason she had dressed this way? If she and her mother were sniping at each other then they wouldn’t have to face the bigger issues that they had been hiding from for years.

On her feet were 3” black ankle boots which matched perfectly with the cowboy hat she perched on her head. Why, it was almost a given that a girl needed a hat in Texas. She wore long gold hoops in her ears, and her hair hung in curling waves to her rear. She had almost put it up but decided at the last minute that she wanted to feel the wind blowing in it as she drove. With another weary sigh, she slammed the door to her shiny red convertible and headed to the stone walkway that led to the front porch.

She was still a good three feet away when she heard her mother’s gasp of probable horror. She couldn’t keep the grin from her lips.

“Why hello, Momma, it’s so good to see you.” Andy smiled at her mother as she came into the house. Her mother just looked at her with wide eyes trying to take in everything at once.

“Good Lord! What in the world have you done to yourself, Andrea?”

“I’ve grown up. I’ve lived. I’m very happy with my life, Momma. I’m so glad that you asked.” Andrea was waiting for her mother to make a sassy comeback just like she always did. But it didn’t come.

“Well, it’s good to see you anyway.” Claire said and for the first time Andy snapped out of her own perceptions and really took note of her mother. Claire had aged, and her once perfect hair now looked as if she ran her fingers through it constantly. She had always seemed thin, but now she was almost frail with it, as if a good wind would blow her away. It seemed that more than just Andy had changed in the last few years.

“Your father is on the back porch resting.”

Andy relaxed and smiled with ease for the first time since her arrival back home. She couldn’t wait to see him and tell him about how she was. He knew what Carmen was and exactly what lifestyle she led. He was the one that encouraged Andy to go to her. At the time, all he had said was that Aunt Carmen would help her find herself. She most definitely had. Still smiling at her mother, she moved through the kitchen and out the back door to the porch that wrapped around the entire house.

Her father sat on the porch swing. He looked older than she had ever imagined him looking and worn out. He was thinner and his hair was all grey now. She had only been gone for three years. It was amazing how much a person could change in that amount of time. He must have heard the screen door close, because he looked up at her before she even took a step towards him. His eyes were bright with tears and the sight of them made hers tear up as well.

“My own little Raggedy Andy. I’ve missed you, baby girl,” Joseph said.

“Daddy,” Andy hurried to him and fell into his arms on the swing. He held her close, and she was frightened by the lack of strength in his arms.

“Daddy, what’s wrong? Why didn’t you let Aunt Carmen and I know that you were sick?”

“I wanted you to enjoy yourself, Andy. I know what you think of this town and the people in it. I know the memories that coming back here will bring. I couldn’t, no I wouldn’t ask it of you unless I had to.”

“Nothing is more important than you, Daddy. I would face anything for you. And this town holds no power over me now. I know who I am, and I’m okay with that.”

“You look beautiful, Andy, absolutely beautiful. You remind me so much of your Aunt Carmen.”

“She misses you too. I still don’t understand why she wouldn’t come with me.”

“Carmen has more of a reason to hate this town than you do, Andy.” Her mother spoke quietly from the doorway, and there was sadness in her eyes that Andy had never seen before. “Your room is ready for you. We’re having company for dinner in an hour, so perhaps you would like to change.”

“I already have a room in town. And I’m fine with how I’m dressed now, Momma.”

“What do you mean that you have a room in town?” Her mother looked hurt at Andy’s words. “You’re welcome to stay here, of course. Tell me where you’re booked at and I’ll take care of it for you.”

“No, Mother, I’ve already taken care of it. Aunt Carmen still owns a house here in town. Since the previous renters moved out several months ago, I plan to stay there while I’m in town. It has an office that I can use for my work.”

Her mother gave another weary sigh and shook her head. “My daughter the writer. When do you plan on getting your head out of the make believe and actually living your life? You need to grow up, Andy. You should be more like your sister. She and Bryan have been married for three years now. Bryson started pre-school this year, and little Amanda Rose is just the most perfect little girl. Only two years old and already such a perfect little lady.”

Oh, yes, Bryson, the child that her sister was already pregnant with when Andy was supposed to be the one marrying Bryan. Little had she known that the woman he had been seeing was her sister. But did her mother blame Chloe or even Bryan for that? No, somehow that was all Andy’s fault as well. And hell, maybe it was Andy’s fault. But bottom line was that her sister and Bryan seemed happy and Andy had moved on.

Book DetailsErotic Rating Total-e-burning
Genre Contemporary/ Ménage à Trois
Cover art by Natalie Winters
Book Length Novel
ISBN# 978-1-907280-12-2

Lacey Thorn
It's your world...unlaced