Stay Tuned

We're trying to figure out what we want to do with this blog. We're still very much active! You can find us mostly hanging out at our website and MySpace page, as well as at Club Naughty--so if you're not a member, please come on over and join us!


Deliciously Naughty Writers - We get you in the mood!

Weddings on the mind...

My mind is nearly consumed with thoughts of weddings these days. So much so that I nearly forgot to post here! My baby brother is getting married this weekend, and it's sure to be a party. I'm looking forward to seeing him and his fiancee get married, but I'm also surprised at how quickly the time has gone. I remember when I first met my brother's fiancee, back when they were just freshmen in college.

But why am I talking about weddings? I've also been thinking a lot lately about what romances promise readers. As a writer, what level of a "happily ever after" do I need to deliver on? Is it dependent upon the length of the story? Is it going to vary from story to story, period? As a reader, I started consuming romances when I was just starting high school. Being raised the good little Catholic girl I was, I believed in being married and being chaste until you were. Which is the main reason I stuck with Signet Regency Romances and other similar lines for so long. Now, as an adult, I recognize all the different flavors of life to suit the individuals we are as humans. I can play around with what promises my stories deliver on. But to what extent? My question to you, dear readers, at what point/s are you feel the promise of romance has been delivered?

New Review For CLAIMING HANNAH

5 Angels!

"In Claiming Hannah, author Sherrill Quinn has created a threesome of two dominants and one sub and the fact that they readily admit to this makes for an absolutely explosive combination. From the minute they are together there is a high risk of self -combustion, and the flames just seem to get hotter as time goes by... There is a prequel, The Claiming, which sounds as if it is just as burn-your-fingers-hot as this one. This reader can only hope there is a third installment on the way it would appear that Ian is set to star in his own show… and with Ms. Quinn in the driver's seat, you'd better come prepared with your flame-resistant outer wear, because it's guaranteed to be smokin'!" (Lynn, Fallen Angel Reviews)

You can read the full review here.

To read an excerpt or buy, click here.

I'm sorry!

Hi guys! I'm so sorry for standing you up today -- my husband's father is in the hospital, and the family is not expecting him to last very long. So we just got back from Maine, and expect to be going back in the morning. In the meantime, I'm going to try and be a good spouse (HA! but I can try) and see if I can keep him distracted.

-- Sierra

Wild Wednesday-lazy birthday post

Okay, so it's my 30th birthday and I still have tons of errands to do today and kid stuff to deal with and so, in an attempt to spoil myself, I'm going to do a lazy blog!!!

Sorry, but I hope you'll enjoy two of my most favorite man meat photos....



Damn this guys just has it going on, I love his sexy dark dangerous vibe.



And here he is again, in a more pensive, manly moment. Sigh.

And I'll finish up with an excerpt from "Sinfully Sweet", which I just found out scored 5 hearts from The Romance Studio!!! yeay!

Happy day everyone,

Anna J. Evans

“Sinfully Sweet” 2nd in the Perfectly Wicked Series By Anna J. Evans July 6 2007 Link to buy:http://www.ellorascave.com/AuthorsBooks.asp?AuthorCode=AJE BLURB: Bella’s a sweet candy maker, who’s been framed for a horrible crime. Being accused of trying to boil children in a vat of peanut brittle has been bad for business, and even worse for her heart. Can she save her company, or will the secret she’s sworn to keep force her to abandon her legacy as a beloved confectioner to the Kingdom? Heath makes sex toys—kinky sex toys. This bad boy has a sweet tooth that’s out of control. He’ll do anything to convince Bella to create the flavors for his edible underwear and flavored condoms…absolutely anything. But a simple seduction goes awry when Heath begins to lose his heart, and an ancient curse shows both lovers how quickly sweet can cross the line into sinful. EXCERPT: Screw second thoughts. He wanted this woman and she wanted him. There was no way he’d let a case of performance anxiety—or whatever the hell this weird feeling was—make him pass up what would no doubt prove to be an amazing experience. He would have Bella in every way that he wanted her. In bed, and as a member of his staff. He would just have to find a middle ground, find a way to claim her as his lover while still winning her as a colleague. He could walk the line. He was a line dancer from way back. Besides, his heart and his cock refused to settle for less, so his brain was just going to have to figure something out as he went along. As he moved toward the bed, the kitchen table saved his life. Or rather, what was on the kitchen table. He grabbed the bowl, not even bothering to ask what was inside. It smelled great, looked like it tasted even better, and what better way to prove to her he was for real than to show her exactly how he’d like to use her unique gifts? “What are you—” “Shh. I have something to show you.” He dipped his fingers into the slightly warm, gooey white mixture and slowly reached out to her lips. She laughed as she realized what he had in mind, a sweet sound that made him want to laugh right along with her. But then she opened her mouth and reached out with the tip of her tongue, banishing his sense of humor. God, she was the sexiest woman he’d ever seen. He was seconds away from coming in his pants, and quickly changed his mind about how tame he wanted to begin her tutoring session. Stopping inches short of her already kiss-swollen lips, he dropped his hand, keeping his eyes glued to hers so he could watch her response when he slowly circled her nipple with the sticky peppermint cream. She didn’t disappoint him, jumping slightly and emitting the softest hint of a moan when his hand made contact with her swollen tip. Even that quiet, hungry sound, however, was enough to ramp up his own excitement another impossible notch. Heath had to fight for control, struggling to keep his pressure gentle, his fingers whisper-soft on her skin. There was a time for ripping off panties and fucking like wild animals, and there was a time for foreplay and a little erotic torture. This encounter was of the second variety, no matter how much his cock might try to persuade him otherwise. “What is this stuff?” he asked. Talking was good, talking helped to keep his mind off how badly he wanted to taste something a lot more intimate than Bella’s latest batch of candy. “Fudge.” Her lips trembled slightly and her eyes grew an even darker shade of blue as he flicked his thumb back and forth over her nipple, coating every inch of her. Heath was so unbelievably turned on that he swore he could feel the same thrill of excitement that coursed through Bella as he touched her, feel when his teasing touch started to drive her over the edge. “I like fudge,” he said, gently pushing her back onto the bed and lengthening himself above her. Deliberately he pressed his hips against hers, knowing she could feel the hard length of his erection against her thigh. His cock was seeking her center as if it would rip through his pants in its eagerness to merge with her completely. There shouldn’t be a shred of doubt left in her mind that he wanted her. Urgently. Painfully even. “Fudge hardens quickly,” she whispered with a fantastically naughty smile, shifting her hips against his. A groan escaped his throat even as he smiled down at her. “Then I’d better hurry up.” He held her gaze as he lowered his mouth to her breast and began licking her clean.

Didn't know they recruited the public for this...

I heard about this on my drive to work this morning and could not stop laughing:

Durex Condom Testers - Their lead line is "Are you a sexual intercourse enthusiast?"

Now, if you could test drive anything, what would you want to do?

Demon of Her Dreams - Coming Wednesday

The first book in the Sassy Devils series, Demon of Her Dreams, is coming in two more days!



Here's a sneak peek:

All supernatural creatures--angels, demons, faeries, trolls, werewolves, you name it--work for a company called Sassy Devils, LLC. The company has three main divisions: the Faery Division (the CEO is Tatiana); the Demon Division (the CEO is Lucifer); and the Angel Division (the CEO is the archangel Gabriel). The Chairman of the Board is God Himself. Whatever contact these supernatural "Others" have with humankind, it is directed by Sassy Devils. But...the Brotherhood of the Red Claw, a group of disenfranchised Others, is determined to wreak havoc with SD's plans in any way they can.

Demon of Her Dreams involves one of Lucifer's sons, Urian Vakidis, an incubus on an undercover mission to discover the leader of the Brotherhood and, hopefully, put a stop to the organization. His assignment brings him back into contact with Hailey Kovac, a woman he's fallen in love with through the sex dreams they've shared over the years. Hailey's strong and courageous, though certainly discombobulated by this recent twist in her reality. When it comes down to it, it takes both of them--with some help from Lucifer--to bring things to an end.

~ * ~
Lucifer sat in the opulent conference room and watched the fur fly. Literally. The CEO of the Faerie Division ripped out another handful of hair from the head of the Executive President of the Shape Shifters Department and flung it the length of the long table.

The werecat yowled in pain and reached toward the faerie queen with hands morphing into sharp-taloned claws.

"You need to get control of your furry there, Bub."

Lucifer glanced at the lavender-eyed being on his left. "You know I hate that name." Whoever had come up with the nickname Beelzebub--which his colleagues insisted on shortening to "Bub"--should be tossed into a lake of fire. And he just happened to know where a really big one was.

Ah, well, there were other things to worry about these days. There usually were. Motioning toward his subordinate, he shrugged. "He got himself into this mess--I want to see if he can get out of it." He watched the two combatants for a moment, shaking his head when the faerie managed to rip another chunk of hair off the werecat. Lucifer turned his gaze to the man in white at the head of the table. "Besides, the Big Guy there can stop it anytime He wants to."

"And maybe He's waiting to see how you handle it, did you ever think of that? Maybe He's testing your management ability?" Lavender eyes narrowed, Gabriel shifted on his stool and unfurled his wings in a wide stretch. As they settled behind his back once more, he muttered, "Our Great King's power may be unlimited, but His patience is not."

Lucifer settled more deeply into his padded leather chair. One upside to being cast out of Heaven--and losing his wings in the process--was that he usually didn't have to put up with all this melodrama. He could stay below and govern his grim domain.
Though he must admit, he did miss flying through the heavens with only clouds beneath him.

Irritated at the reminder of his own stupidity millennia ago, Lucifer pushed to his feet and slammed his hands onto the table. The loud crack garnered him the attention he sought. "You--" he pointed to his former Executive President--"go back to the Demon Division. We'll discuss this later." When the werecat hesitated, Lucifer brought up one hand and, calling forth the fire that burned in his soul, bounced a glowing ball of flame in his palm. "Go!"

The shape shifter winced and gave a low bow, his eyes never leaving the fiery sphere in Lucifer's hand. Once the werecat had left the room, Lucifer looked at the faerie queen. "And you," he drawled, clenching his fist, sending the fire back inside his body, "need to lighten up and learn how to take a joke."

The red-haired beauty pouted and flounced back to her seat. She tucked a long strand of curly hair behind one pointed ear. "I know how to take a bleedin' joke," she muttered, her sultry brogue reflecting her heritage amidst the rolling green hills of Ireland. "What he said wasn't funny."

"Aw, come on, Tatiana. It was kinda funny, even you have to admit that." Lucifer sat down and leaned back in his chair.

She crossed her arms, an action that plumped her cleavage. All the males in the room--well, all but one--leaned forward for a better look. A sensuous smile broke across her face. Picking up a pen, she rubbed her fingers up and down its length while she traced her bottom lip with the tip of her tongue. Her deep blue eyes sparkled with feminine power.

Until she looked at Lucifer. Then the smile left her face and she slapped the pen onto the table. Her eyes darkened with annoyance. "'How many faeries does it take to change a light bulb' is funny?"

Trying to hold back a chuckle, he ended up snorting, which only made her scowl. "Hell, yes, it's funny," he said. "'Just one if you get him plugged in right' is a damned fine punch line."

"We're not bloody light bulbs," she shouted, jumping to her feet. In a fit of temper, she picked up her pen and threw it at him.

He dodged it with a laugh.

"Enough!" The deep voice boomed, making the gold-framed pictures on the wall rattle.

Silence reigned as everyone's attention turned toward the head of the table. Tatiana slowly sat down, her attitude as subdued as everyone else's. "Your pardon, my King."

"Thank you." Yahweh leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers beneath his chin. "If we can get back to business…" His steely gaze fixed on Lucifer. "I believe we were about to receive your progress report on the Brotherhood."

Lucifer nodded and stood. For months they'd been aware that all of their efforts--both good and bad--were being undermined. His son, Urian, had allegedly gone rogue to try to find out who, and why. Over the last six months, he'd managed to find the group--they called themselves the Brotherhood of the Red Claw--and was very close to discovering who the leader was.

This upset in the balance between good and evil had to be stopped, and soon, or there would be utter bedlam. And while that would make chaos demons quite happy, everyone else realized there had to be stability or life as they all knew it would end.

Copyright ©2007 Sherrill Quinn. All Rights Reserved.


Demon of Her Dreams - coming October 24th at Ellora's Cave!

Eighth Wand released Wednesday!

Buy it here.

The tarot card Prudence finds at a Wiccan Beltane festival promises passion, travel, and the end of a stagnant, dull situation. She has no idea that the card's prediction is about to come true in the form of Royd, a warrior of the Fae on Earth to retrieve the eighth wand of his people's lands, stolen from them by Prudence's grandmother.

Royd wants only to take the wand back home, until he sees Prudence and is instantly captivated by her vibrancy and life. Together they must fight to send him safely back with his prize, but perhaps in Prudence he's found something just as valuable…and just as hard to lose.


Chapter One

The problem with the women of the Bright Moon coven was that they insisted on doing outdoor rituals without shoes on. Prudence knew it could be worse. The thought of going skyclad—naked—filled her with horror.
But now the circle had ended and Prudence, unable to find her sandals, was picking her way through the woods to find fuel for the bonfire while pebbles and sticks scraped and poked her feet.
Good thing it was Beltane and almost summer. She couldn’t imagine doing this at Samhain in the October chill. They better have the fire ready before the ritual then. If she was still in the coven.
Ignoring the large logs she couldn’t easily carry, Pru filled her arms with smaller sticks. One load down. She’d head back, drop these off and—
“Where is it?”
Pru gasped and spun around, dropping the sticks. One of them landed squarely on her poor bare foot.
“Ouch! Damn it, shit!” She stepped forward with her good leg, reaching down to hold her injured foot, and fell over. Something sharp stabbed her in the shoulder. “Ow!” Struggling to sit, she glared at the man standing a few feet away. “You scared the crap out of me.”
“Enough games. Where is it?”
“Excuse me?” The sun had almost set. All Pru could see of the stranger was his shadowy outline, large and solid. Blue-black highlights shone in his hair where the last rays of light came through the trees.
She’d thought he was one of the men from the ritual. It seemed she was wrong. She would have remembered those broad shoulders and that thick, long hair.
“Where is the wand?”
Those rays highlighted the clear lines of some impressive muscles as well. Prudence rose from the ground, her fingers curled around one of the thickest of the fallen sticks. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You lie.”
“Hey! Who do you think you are?” Brandishing the stick, Pru started inching her way backward, feeling carefully with her toes to make sure she didn’t trip. “If you want a wand so bad, you should have come in time for the festival and bought one. All the booths are closed now, it’s time for the bonfire.”
Something else flitted through her mind, but she ignored it. So she’d found a tarot card earlier, so what? The eight of wands didn’t mean anything to anyone, really. Of course, it had meanings—travel, all-consuming passion, freedom from a stagnant situation—but finding the card meant nothing. The man couldn’t possibly be talking about that.
Could he?
“But you have been near it,” he said. “I see it in your aura.”
“Don’t look at my aura, that’s private.” Had she ever uttered a stupider sentence? Probably not. Not even “Of course I can eat a whole gallon of ice cream at once”.
At least she’d stumped him. He stood there staring at her—she could feel his gaze on her skin—for so long she almost managed to edge all the way out of the clearing before he moved.
He must have moved, anyway. One minute he stood opposite her, the next—the next he loomed over her, his chest only inches from her nose. Damn, he was tall.
And just as well-built as he’d appeared at first. Slim, but defined. An intricate black tattoo decorated his entire chest, snaking over the expanse of muscles, hiding his nipples. She couldn’t make out the pattern—wings? A chalice of some kind?—but she could smell the earthy scent of his skin and see the thin leather cord wrapped around his upper arm.
Heart pounding, she forced herself to look up. A brave woman, a strong woman, would look him in the eyes, and brave and strong was what Prudence knew deep down she could be.
So she met his eyes, those black holes set deep in the man’s sharp-boned face. Her mouth fell open. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew the brave and strong woman didn’t gape at men like she’d never seen one before, but it was impossible to stop herself, not when her entire body leaned forward as if she could climb into him and never leave.
It wasn’t simply how handsome he was, although she could honestly say she’d never seen a man as striking. Something in his eyes…called her. Promised her something. She couldn’t explain it any better than that, even to herself.
“Your aura cannot hide, even if your words try to,” he said, and his voice poured over her like spiced wine. “Where have you hidden it? If you give it to me now, my people may not seek revenge. If you delay—”
“I told you, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She yanked herself away, struggling as if he held her physically. “Leave me—”
He grabbed her. Despite the warmth of the evening, goose bumps erupted on her skin. He might as well have given her an electric shock. His sharp intake of breath echoed in her ears. He tilted his head. “Beltane.”
“What?”
“Sex crawls across your skin. You have not had a man in a long time. Too long.”
“Now that’s none of your business! How dare you—”
He ignored her, instead loosening his grip on her arm and sliding his hands up her skin, so lightly it almost tickled. He’d spoken of her aura. Now she could almost see it too, as if he touched it and not her skin. Despite her anger and irritation, she shivered. Her nipples, bare under her loose gown, hardened and poked against the thin fabric. She was certain he could see it, even if he somehow couldn’t read her reaction in the way her breath caught in her throat.
Dear Goddess, what was happening here? Why weren’t any of the other coven members coming to find her? The sun was only a thin, bright line of gold on the horizon, barely visible through the trees. Darkness wrapped around them, darkness and the stillness of a forest on the edge of night. Didn’t they notice she wasn’t there?
Hell, didn’t they at least need the wood she carried?
She swallowed. “How dare you speak to me like that.” She’d meant to sound forceful. Instead the words came out in a rush of breath. She sounded like a young girl trying to talk to her first crush.
“I propose a trade,” he said. “I need the wand. You need a man. Why not allow me to pleasure you in exchange?”

Wild Wednesday with Anna-let's talk abs...

Welcome to another edition of Wild Wednesday, I'm your host Anna J. Evans and I'd like to talk about abs....man meat abs to be specific. I'm wondering how much starvation and abdominal torture the man above had to endure to get that eight pack? These are the things I think about when I see abs like that, and it takes away from my man-ogling enjoyment. Do you feel what I'm saying here?

I mean...



Look at this dude. He obviously needs to eat a twinkie. I'd rather see the abs covered in a bit of a protective fat layer than be able to trace the lines of the six pack simply because my man hasn't been eating properly. I'm not a big fan of starvation, and I think there has to be a happy medium between abliness and healthiness.



Like this guy! Look...nice tone, great definition, but he's not taking it too far. There's still some meat on his bones. He looks relatively well fed, like he eats a steak once and awhile and doesn't worry about it.

Which I think is totally sexy. A man who can't resist the urge to indulge his appetite for food is a man who enjoys indulging other appetites as well...you know what I'm saying?

Happy hump day all! See you next week!

Anna J. Evans

Fantasies...getting your engine going

Fantasies are on my mind a lot lately. Winning the Lotto. Hooking up with the guy I've had a crush on since we were four years old. The credit cards all paid off. Jetting off to the destination of my choice without having to worry about how I was paying for it, or needing to be back at a certain date to go back to work. Having all of the housework magically done. My buddha belly morphing into a 6-pack. See, lots of different fantasies.

But we're here to talk about the more lustful kind of fantasies, aren't we? Lately, in addition to the lifelong crush, these guys have been making guest appearances in my fantasies:

Sean Patrick Flanery

The first volume of the Young Indiana Jones Chronicles are due out next week. I've had a crush on the character of Indy since I was a wee child. Sean as Indy got my teenage hormones *all* worked up!

Milo Ventimiglia

Looking at his hot bod alone makes Heroes worth watching.

and last, but oh so certainly not least,

Josh Radnor

The star of "How I Met Your Mother", who greatly appeals to my lust of dark haired, boys next door.

Whisper in my ear...who are you fantasizing about now?

Writing 101: Write The Story *You* Want To Read

One of the nuggets of writing advice is "Write what you know." I'm not completely sure I agree with that, because I don't *know* any vampires or werewolves, yet I love to write them. I don't *know* anyone who pilots a spaceship, but I've written about a couple of them, too.

One thing I *do* agree with, as perhaps is illustrated by the above paragraph, is this advice: Write the story *you* want to read. Don't write what you think other people want to read, don't worry about what your mother will think. Write for yourself. The second you start writing to please someone else, or try to censor yourself so you won't offend someone, or writing for money (not that we don't want to be paid--and paid as well as possible--for our talent, that just can't be the only reason), you look outward and not inward. Doing that, you run a very big risk of losing what is unique about your voice.

As you craft your story, be your toughest critic. Face the fact that the first words from your fingers onto the screen will probably *not* be the best ones. Ask yourself: What is there about this character that will make someone else (besides me) care about him? What drives the reader to keep turning the pages? Keep honing your skills and don't be afraid to take risks. And make the story you want to read the best one you can write.

Sierra's Story Hour -- Space Cowboy, part 2!

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Wild Wednesday 3-naked men and flora?

Hey all,

It's wild Wednesday here on the Deliciously Naughty blog and today we're talking about men...and flowers. Not getting flowers from men--though I'd be interested to know your thoughts on that, I enjoy flowers as long as they aren't the stereotypical roses and don't look as though they were purchased in a hurry at the grocery around the corner as a last minute kind of thing--but men surrounded by flowers.

Wallowing in flowers.

Being manly and in the buff with...flowers. For example:



Nice bower effect here....shimmery lake in the background...



And in this one you've got a few strategically placed daisies to draw your eye to certain barely concealed manly bits...


Same here, but with um...something else going on...I think the flowers are tickling him and making him laugh? ...or maybe that yellow one is biting him? I'm not quite sure...



But this guy also looks a little afraid even though plants here aren't of the flowering varietal...

And then, there's this guy....



No comment necessary there, but this was the kind of stuff I found when I googled "hunks with flowers" and "beefcakes with flowers". *Shudder*

Aren't there any hot pictures of men and flowers? Pictures that don't look goofy or just...odd?

If you find any, please let me know, but for now I'm going to have to conclude that:

Nake Men + Flowers = Not so sexy

Until next Wednesday!!

Anna J. Evans

http://annajevans.com

Genre, what genre?

::Blinks:: Oh, hi! Readers, yeah, need to talk to the readers. ::Slaps self across face:: ::Vigorously shakes head:: Di-i-i-i-i-i-i... ::Presses brain reset button::

Don't you wish you had a brain reset button? I do. Sadly, one has yet to be invented. You are now the recipient of a musing on genre (ie. romance, erotica, mystery, etc.) as I have just spent some time, enjoyably, debating what makes a book a certain genre. I really hope I don't lose the argument, but I am prepared for the possibility. It won't horribly wound me if I do lose it, anyway, because it's a day profession argument.

These days, so many books are "cross-genre" books. At what point does a book no longer belong in a certain genre? What do you expect out of "cross-genre" books when you're reading it mainly for one of the genres? What do you think of authors who write "cross-genre", but maybe not that successfully? Are there any authors out there you think who do "cross-genre" very well? What authors are out there that you think are great examples of their "named" genre, but would greatly appeal to readers of another genre (and which genre would that be)?

I'm really interested in what readers have to say on this topic because of the day profession argument/discussion. From an author perspective this is also important to me because my stories are usually a mix of genres, though I try to focus on a main genres with supporting elements from other genres. What readers have to say is very important. You're the ones buying our books, and if we're not meeting your expectations to the best of our ability, you're not going to buy our stories, which means, we're not making any money. So, as a reader of genre fiction, tell me what *you* think of the concept of genres.

Writing 101: Making Your Characters Sympathetic

As a writer, one thing you need to remember when creating your characters is this: Even the most villainous must have clear motivation.

In other words, all of your characters must behave in a way your readers will believe. Because, after all, the best villains believe they are heroes--they are doing what needs to be done for whatever reason. So, not just for your hero and heroine, you should also know your villain--his background, education, ambitions, emotional events, wounds (real or imagined), fears, obsessions, etc.

You can use physical appearance, dialogue and reactions to events as tools to create characters that readers identify with--even your villain. Physical appearance should be consistent with personality--strength of will, stubbornness and vacillation are often visible in a face. Passion and appetite can show in a mouth, as does indecision or insensitivity. Movement, expression, pitch of voice can say a lot about a person. Body language can reveal a great deal, too--hands, fingers--at rest or moving.

It's a good idea to provide some description of your characters--readers will build a picture in their mind and if it doesn't coincide with something that occurs later in the book they'll be upset. It's far more effective to "show" your characters rather than describe them (or "tell"). Dialogue is one of the best ways of doing this. The feelings that characters express and the words they choose are very strong indicators of personality, and much sharper to the reader than descriptions of vices, virtues, wit, gentleness, etc.

Try to key your descriptions to one or two features--an emotional sketch, an impression rather than a photographic portrait from which characters could be identified. Shape and coloring can be less important than expression. There are also less obvious features--eyebrows, hairline, curve of cheek or throat, ears and teeth. A description--blue eyes, brown hair, straight nose, wide mouth--says less about the person than something more personal like humorous eyes, uncertain mouth, quick to laugh but curiously sulky in repose. And above all, avoid cliches such as "twinkling eyes" or "generous mouth." (I find my heroes all have glittering eyes, especially when they're aroused. Trying to show that arousal in a different way is a challenge.)

Just remember: For the plot of your story to be powerful, the reader has to believe that all of the character would really behave as they do.

Come chat Sunday at Ellora's Cave!

Join the Deliciously Naughty Writers for a
Deliciously Naughty evening of fun at Ellora's Cave!

Sierra Dafoe
Anna J. Evans
Kelly Maher
December Quinn
Sherrill Quinn
And Friends

Sunday October 7th from 4pm-10pm EST
on the Ellora's Cave Chat loop

Win FREE DOWNLOADS of ebooks from your favorite EC writers including Taige Crenshaw, Mackenzie McKade, A.D. Christopher, Christine D'abo, Desiree Holt, Anna J. Evans, Sierra Dafoe and MORE.

Don't miss it!!

Thursday is now Sierra's Story Hour day!

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Wild Wednesday 2-Ride 'em Cowboy!

Yes my pretties, we have a theme today!! Themed naughtiness for hump day, what could be better?



"You lookin' at me little filly? Checkin' out the manliness?"

Yes we are, it's wild Wednesday. (Duh, manmeat!)



"I done pulled down my levis so you can get a look at my Ken Doll bits."


"It's the chaps ma'am, I can't help it if they...draw the eye to certain manly places."

And now a little naughty cowboy goodness from my October 5th release (that's this Friday, whee!!) from Ellora's Cave.

"Love Fool"
ISBN 9781419911897
By Anna J. Evans
Part of the Torrid Tarot Series
Coming October 5th from Ellora's Cave
Link to Buy: http://www.ellorascave.com/AuthorsBooks.asp?AuthorCode=AJE



BLURB:

Mandy Miller is not the type of girl who wakes up in a strange room, staring at a strange ceiling, with a pounding headache, a pair of skinned knuckles and no underwear. Unfortunately she is the type to fall head over heels for all the wrong kinds of men. Men just like the handsome cowboy lying next to her who--aside from the fact they'd apparently slept together--she doesn't know from Adam.

The last thing Joe Paloma wants is a relationship after a divorce that pulled his heart out through his nose with a rusty fishing hook. But he can't deny he's tempted to give up his infamous bad boy ways if it means waking up to a woman like Mandy every morning.

Neither expects the extremes of passion or the depths of love they'll find now that they've met their match--another brave enough to love with the heart of a fool.

EXCERPT:

“You always put your hat on before your clothes?” she asked as Mr. Studly reached out to his bedside table, fetched a dark brown suede hat and positioned it on his head with an easy gesture that said he’d done the same a million times before.

“Don’t want you to see me with bed head.” His wicked smile revealed startlingly white, even teeth. Could teeth be sexy? She wouldn’t have thought so, but that smile set her entire body to thinking about a kind of nibbling that had nothing what-so-ever to do with food.

“Are you that vain?”

“I was thinking it might jog your memory.”

“Not really. Sorry,” Mandy denied, though there was a strange tickling somewhere deep in her brain that she supposed was her tequila muddied synapses making an effort to put two and two together to make something close to four.

“Well, then, maybe this will help,” her cowboy said in a soft, sensuous tone that caressed her in places that no voice should be able to touch.

Carelessly, he tossed his hat to the floor, and then he was suddenly on top of her, that bare chest only inches from her still aching nipples. His thick muscled arms flexed on either side of her and his lips descended toward hers with a predatory hunger that took her breath away and made her undie-less sex start to pulse with anticipation.

“Mmm!” Mandy hummed, sucking her lips into her mouth and biting down.

“What?” he asked, nuzzling her nose with his, his breath puffing warmly onto her face smelling slightly of cinnamon. How could the man have fragrantly delicious morning breath? He was clearly not of this earth. Maybe she’d been abducted by aliens last night. That seemed more likely than the forgotten one night stand and she felt tempted to peek under the sheet and see what kind of equipment Jose was sporting. Surely aliens didn’t have your normal, average, everyday guy parts and-

“Jose!” Mandy shouted into his face before quickly clamping her mouth shut. She refused to breathe on another human being this morning. It would just be cruel and unusual punishment.

“You remember,” he said with a devilish little smile, before he dropped his lips to her neck and began trailing soft kisses from her jaw down to the collar of what she assumed was his shirt.

“You don’t look like a Jose.” Mandy tried not to close her eyes and moan, to arch toward that mouth, to thread her hands through that silky blonde hair and pull him as close as two beings could possible get.

She didn’t know if it was the tequila still floating around in her system or some sort of pheromone overdose, but she couldn’t ever remember being this aroused this early in the morning. She was a night person. She didn’t like to speak more than five words before noon and at least five cups of coffee, but right now she would gladly get up and make breakfast, recite the Gettysburg address and stand on her head if it meant he would keep touching her, kissing her and gradually settling the delicious weight of his body down onto her own.

“That’s what you said last night.” His words were muffled as his mouth kissed past the hollow of her throat, down the slightly freckled skin of her chest, to where her shirt was still presently buttoned. Mandy did moan then, a small sound that turned to a gasp as his strong hands closed around her ribcage, holding her firmly in place while his mouth went to work on separating button from hole.

“I mean, you just don’t look very…ethnic,” Mandy heard herself say, regretting the words as soon as they were out of her mouth.

What was she thinking? After spending five years as a party planner to the stars, she should know better. She was usually the Queen of PC, but obviously her mind wasn’t functioning properly this morning. She was too worried about how in the hell she was going to stop this from going any further when all she wanted was to let go and let him ravish her ten different ways. Her pussy was already aching painfully, throbbing with the need to have him pumping away inside of her, tunneling as deep as he could possibly go. She even had a hunch this cowboy was capable of filling more than the emptiness of her body, that maybe Mr. Blue Eyes might be able to ease the painful emptiness in her heart as well.

“That’s what you said last night, though not so diplomatically,” he said as he set to work on another button with his skillful mouth.

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I can-”

“That’s alright. No one seems to have a problem believing there are red headed Italians, but most have issues with blonde Mexicans.”

“No, I meant I can’t do this,” Mandy said, bringing her hands to his face, effectively stopping him before he managed to undo another button.

If he put that mouth to work on her full, aching breasts, swirling that tongue around her tightened nipples, maybe pulling them into the wet heat of this mouth…she would be done for. There would be no turning back and she couldn’t let that happen. She wasn’t into casual affairs. She never had been and she wasn’t about to start now. She wanted a wilder life, but also a better life here in Austin, and that wasn’t going to happen if she started banging complete strangers. She didn’t want to throw away her fresh start by falling for a cowboy who, other than the fact that his name was Jose and they’d apparently slept together, she didn’t know from Adam.

And she would fall, she had no doubt about that. That was her specialty, falling hard for the wrong kind of man again and again and again. But she was tired of being the good woman who sat at home, wondering where her boyfriend was and what or who he was doing. From now on, she was going to be the wild one, the girl who took no prisoners in the bedroom or out of it, and she would find herself a nice, steady man to be the calm center in the eye of her storm.

Perhaps her reasoning was a bit flawed, but she figured she could at least give it a try. After all, if she were the crazier half of a couple, she felt she might really have a chance at a future. Because no matter how free spirited she decided to be, she would never cheat on a man that she loved, never risk losing something so precious. Too bad she couldn’t say the same for her former flames.

Bad boys, every last one of them. They looked different, came from different backgrounds, and worked different jobs, but they all had one thing in common: they were heartbreakers, cheaters, and master manipulators. Looking at the handsome rake whose face she now cradled in her hands, she couldn’t believe that he’d be any different. Men that beautiful just couldn’t be faithful, at least not in her experience, and experience was the best teacher—or at least the harshest.

“I’m sorry, this just isn’t right,” she repeated, wiggling slightly beneath him, hoping he would remove himself from the bed before she lost what little will power she had mustered.

“Why not?” he asked, his blue eyes looking deep into her brown with an intensity that made her shiver.

“I’m just…I don’t…”

“You don’t have one night stands?” he said with a smile that seemed almost affectionate, like he knew her more intimately than he possible could have. It was the smile of a man who laughed at your jokes, who knew what kind of cereal you liked to eat, who thought it was cute that you were scared to watch horror flicks after dark and still had your favorite stuffed animals tucked away beneath your bed.

“Did I tell you that last night, too?” Mandy asked, her voice husky with more than physical need. She had dreamed of a man looking at her just like this, smiling at her with such honesty, such…what was the word? It couldn’t be love. He was a complete stranger, wasn’t he? Then why did she feel like she was coming home when those strangely sexy teeth smiled in a way that was for her eyes only?

Oh no, it was happening again. She was falling, fast, and had suddenly lost all desire to even try to run. What was she going to do with herself? She was going to have to think long and hard about that as soon as she was able to concentrate on anything but the hard, warm, male body snuggling into even more intimate contact with hers.

“You didn’t have to. It was written all over your face.” Then he kissed her with a gentle, insistent passion that completely took her breath and all concerns about its freshness away.

Happy Hump Day All!!

Anna J. Evans

http://annajevans.com
Fan the flames...

Anyone can write a romance...

If anyone could write a romance, and have it be easy, I'd have a lot more hair ;) Last night, registrations opened for 2007's National Novel Writing Month. I highly recommend anyone who thinks they can write a romance to take up the challenge. I've participated three or four times (the potential fourth time is a bit fuzzy), and I've only "won" once. I recently sold that winner to Ellora's Cave...after *much* revision. It takes a lot of discipline to write a 50,000 word novel that, not only is fairly coherent, but can be whipped into the shape of a publishable novel.

I wish anyone who undertakes this the best of luck. It's a very draining experience, but it helps writers define what is important in their lives and prioritize those items. This year I'm not planning on participating, mainly because I've already planned what I'll be writing in November. It's a short story, well under the 50K required to win. Also because I've already prioritized my current responsibilities and projects, and a short story is all I have time to write.

I'll conclude this with the best piece of advice I've ever heard. As I've heard it from numerous people, I couldn't begin to cite it: "Write what you love." If you don't love romance, please don't waste your time trying to write one. Figure out what you do love, and spend your time writing that.

Writing 101

I thought I'd take my time here on the DNW blog and post some brief writing tips. Hopefully some of you will find this information useful.

Competition is stiff in the publishing world. (Unless you go with a publisher that isn't too particular about what they publish, or if you go the self-publishing route. But that's a post for another time.) You can follow plot and point-of-view rules, polish and re-polish your manuscript until there are no grammatical errors or typos, yet still get rejection after rejection. What gives? It's the finer points of writing--things like voice and pacing--that may determine if your book will ever be published.

First, you need to snag your reader with the first line. And the first three pages or so are critical in holding the reader's attention. And, after all, editors are readers. So make sure you open with something that will make the reader curious and want to find out more.

Second, make sure you use active voice--meaning action verbs. It's amazing how many times I find myself lapsing into passive voice as I write. Instead of writing "He stared into her eyes" it comes out "He was staring into her eyes." Weak, weak, weak!

Third, you want to add sensory details so the reader feels this world you've created. If your character is poor and a bike is his only mode of transportation, even in the winter time, show your reader how his hands are frozen to the handlebars, or how his warm breath steams in the chilled air.

Fourth, stay away from well-worn cliches. Come up with new, fresh ways of describing things.

If you pay attention to the finer points of writing, you'll give your fiction the creative edge it needs to impress a editor enough to say, "Give me more!"

Who Pays?

Note: Because we're revamping this blog a bit, I don't yet know what I'm going to do with my Fridays. I might post book recommendations, or who knows? So until I've decided, I'm going to copy my Friday posts from my own blog. Since I usually post about genre-related stuff, I don't think you'll be bored. Forgive me, but I promise I'll come up with something clever soon.


So reading this article on Gawker got me thinking.

The article, for those who don't want to or don't have time to click and read it, is about "going Dutch" on dates. Specifically the first few dates. And whether it's okay for a man to expect a woman to pay for her own dinner on a first date. And whether women should expect to have their meals paid for. And if it's about men being cheap or women being empowered. Or whatever.

I haven't dated in some time, and when I did...well, frankly, I pretty much never did. Not your typical dinner date, anyway. I'd usually hung around with a guy for some time before we really went out together. Or we'd already kissed, or whatever, and so were dating. Usually we were both so poor that whoever had money would pay. But we were also barely in our twenties and spent most of our available cash on beer.

But even then, if it was a date-type evening, I never considered paying. When my boyfriend would say he wanted us to go out to eat, we both took it for granted he would pay. When we just decided to go out on the spur of the moment we'd go dutch, but a "date"--he paid. (Unless I took him out for his birthday or something.)

All of my heroes in my books pay. For everything. This has a lot to do with them being richer than Croesus, but I admit, it's also because I think the man should pay, at least in the beginning. He's the one doing the inviting*, he's the one doing the seducing, so he pays.

And the way he asks always indicates he's paying, too. Not "Why don't we go out to eat?" but "Let me take you out to dinner" or "Come on, I'll buy you dinner." And my heroines don't argue with that. Sometimes they may think about not turning down a free dinner, but, oddly, power struggles in the relationships of my characters are never financial (I say "oddly" because it's only just occured to me). Not one of my heroines feels she's less independent and strong if she lets the man pay. They make it very clear that he's buying dinner, not her body, (not stridently; the topic is never discussed, it's just clear) and that they expect to be treated and spoken to a certain way and that's that.

Perhaps it's because my heroes, however criminal their other activities may be or no matter how coldly they may order the deaths of their enemies, are gentlemen.

Or perhaps I'm a totally clueless dinosaur and should be shot for betraying womankind.

What do you think?

(*the person who does the inviting should pay. This is the only exception to the "men should pay" rule. But then, I don't believe women should ask men out, either, and the reason is because if a man's not man enough to take a chance and ask you for a date, maybe he's not man enough period. I've asked a few guys out over the course of my life, and it's never worked out. It sets a precedent, I think, where you're the pursuer and he gets to sit back and let you do it. It makes them overconfident.)

WHORING MYSELF AROUND THE INTERNET:

I'm over at The Book Bitches guest bitching about Jackie Collins, come on by and say hi! The Bitches are awesome fun, and they did a little interview with me as well (below the first post).

I did an interview at Rachel Carrington's blog about my Publishing series, so check that one out too!

Brand new release and new feature next Thursday!

Hi guys! YAY! Another Devarian story has just hit the cyber-stands, so I thought I'd bring you an excerpt today. And next Thursday, I hope you'll join me for the first Sierra's Story Hour -- every week, I'll be posting an installment of a new short story, and when it's done, I'll post the whole thing on my free stories page at sierradafoe.com and start another!

For today -- hot off the presses from Changeling Press:

Devarian Renegades
by Sierra Dafoe

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=682

Captain Merrin Trafalgar’s life is going to pieces. Recalled from space on the verge of discovering a new planet, she’s immured instead on a backwater planet, guarding gelded work-slaves in the wheat fields of Harth. The one thing she has to look forward to is being reunited with her two pleasure-slaves. But in her absence they’ve fallen in love -- with each other! Even worse, Merrin finds herself drawn to the handsome, enigmatic Rolen -- but how can a gelded work-slave rouse such longing in her?

When Rolen reveals his secret, Merrin knows there’s only one answer for her and her forbidden lover -- go renegade!

Excerpt

Rolen walked silently beside her, his hand occasionally touching the small of her back as he guided her along the darker stretches of the path. The night must have grown cooler, because Merrin was intensely aware of his touch even through the thin fabric of her uniform, of the warmth of his fingers and the breadth of his hard, work-callused palm. It felt so different compared to when Stevan touched her, or Amur…

“You won’t… you won’t tell anyone about this, Rolen, will you?” Glancing sidelong at his stern profile, Merrin saw him grimace.

“Of course not. Everyone has secrets, my lady.”

And what secrets would a work-slave have? Merrin wondered. But she couldn’t bring herself to ask. It would be violating, somehow, what he’d given her.

They walked in silence for a bit. Then Rolen asked, “May I ask you something in return?” Merrin hesitated, then nodded. “What is your name?”

She let out a small, surprised laugh. “Merrin. Captain Merrin Trafalgar.”

“Merrin.” He said the word as if memorizing it, storing it away somewhere behind those black eyes. “Thank you, my lady.” A moment later, he murmured, “They must trust you immensely. I can almost see why.”

“They?” Then she realized he was speaking of Stevan and Amur. “What does trust have to do with it? They’re pleasure-slaves.”

The glance Rolen gave her was almost pitying. “How much simpler would it have been to lie to you? To hide what they felt for each other? Simpler… and safer. They must have been terrified you’d separate them, sell off one to punish the other.”

Merrin opened her mouth to protest -- but the memory of Amur clinging to her with an almost desperate fierceness as Stevan told her, Believe me, there is no one to whom I’d rather belong, cut short her words.

Rolen was right. That was exactly what they’d been afraid of. “What do you think I should do, then?”

In response, Rolen grabbed her arm and dragged her to him, his mouth covering hers with an urgency that left her breathless. His kiss was wholly inexpert -- rough and abrupt -- yet the hunger in it, as he crushed his lips down upon hers, set her head reeling. His spicy, musky scent filled her nostrils, banishing rational thought so thoroughly that when his tongue prodded lightly against her closed lips, she moaned and parted them.

Hesitantly at first, then with more assurance, his tongue plunged into the wetness of her mouth -- tasting her, exploring her, devouring her.

His huge, work-hardened arms clamped around her, pressing her to his chest. She could feel the thunder of his heartbeat beneath the sturdy ribs, the firm swell of his pecs…

Merrin trembled, feeling desire rake her from her scalp to the very tips of her toes. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t breathe. Her cunt was on fire, desperate for a connection they could never have.

Just as suddenly as he’d seized her, Rolen turned her loose, and Merrin staggered, crying out in shock. For one second he stared down at her, his massive chest heaving, his eyes, black and wild, burning down into hers. The thin moonlight filtering through the leaves above etched his face, revealing a shocked vulnerability that pierced Merrin to the quick.

Then he stepped back into the darkness, becoming nothing more than a shadow against the shadows of the trees. “Forgive them, my lady. Nobody chooses who they will love.”

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=682

Wild Wednesday Number One!

It's time to get....WILD!!! That's right, from now on, Wednesday's on the Deliciously Naughty blog will be Wild Wednesday's. You can look forward to hot man meat, sexy excerpts, maybe a little flash fiction of the naughty variety, and more.

So I hope you'll join me here every hump day for a little naughty fun.

This is an old man meat blog of mine, but it seemed like the perfect thing to get my Wild Wednesday blogging off to a rousing start with LOTS of yummy manliness.

Enjoy!!

Anna J. Evans
http://annajevans.com
fan the flames...



"Are you looking at me? Are you checking out my manliness? I challenge you with my eyes and clenched eight-pack...go ahead, make fun of the bandana tied around my wrist....I DARE you."



"Yes, I'm also manly....what are you going to do about it? Yes my manly nipples are hard...the water is cold...do you have a problem with that?"



"I'm too manly for my hoodie, too manly for my hoodie, too manly also for my dog tag."



"Manly men can not be tied with string, you must use rope, fool! Soon I will pull free and give a taste of a manly ass-whooping unlike anything the world has ever known."



"Hell yeeeaaasss, I'm manly. See how I stick out there all proud like? So I got some kind of burlap sock tar baby lookin' thing on there. So what? You know you still want me to rope ya little filly."

Wow, a lot of attitude in the man meat today....let's mix it up a bit...



"I too am manly...manly and deep and contemplative, manly and intergalactic. I see the chaos of the universe and want to weep, but instead I clench my abs and call for my captain...oh captain...."



"I'm not compensating for anything. I need a big sword because I have a lot of heads to chop off. And that's sweat, not baby oil. I. Swear. To. God."

(Oh my god, I love the Rock...I really do. There's something weirdly hot about a guy whos bicep is bigger around than my waist. Or am I psychotic?)



"Come on baby, run your hands through my mullet and kiss your way down my hair-shirt. If it gets stuck in your teeth, well...it just might be the dental floss nature intended."



Man meat a' la mode with fresh berries. Truly a manly treat.

When I Knew

People often ask "When did you know you wanted to be a writer?"

I don't know that I can actually pinpoint a specific time or place. My first experience as a writer was in sixth grade. Our teacher would give us an opening line and have us write a short story. Most of mine were fantastical and I seem to remember they ended something like "But it was only a dream." LOL I've improved since then, thankfully.

I really didn't do any more fiction writing until around 1998. And that was partly because someone told me I couldn't. Oh, not me specifically, but people in my profession. So I set out to prove her wrong.

And I did. But it wasn't until about 2005 that I seriously started thinking about doing this for a living. Being a writer, I mean. And I'm on my way. Nowhere near being able to support myself yet, but that'll come. I hope.

What would I be Doing?

Hmm. Ideally I'd be married to a millionaire, sitting on our yacht sipping cocktails.

Other than that? Maybe a carpenter.

I'd actually really like to be a carpenter. I see them and I'm jealous. I'd love to be able to work with my hands like that, to make things, really make them from raw materials. I'd love to be able to use big tools. I'd love to hammer things. (When I got my first apartment I made a special trip to buy a hammer, and I felt so cool and grown up and womanly. I owned a hammer! I could hammer things. It was a special moment.)

Because my Dad and brother are big gearheads, being a mechanic always hovered in the background for me too. I like cars. I'd like to know how they work, how to fix them. They're like little mysteries, and who can resist a mystery?


I guess what all those jobs have in common is they're all about fixing and creating. And tools. Which writing erotic romance and urban fantasy incorporates pretty smoothly. :-)

Hey Mom, I wanna write smut!

Y'know, I'm just thinking about that this morning -- it's a strange career choice, being an erotic romance writer. It's incredibly long hours for not much pay, especially at the beginning. It's the sort of thing that's sometimes awkward to talk about in mixed company (I'm picturing my poor mom introducing me to her friends.... "And here's my daughter -- she writes sex scenes for a living." LOL!)

Poor mom. Writer was always on the agenda, although it was supposed to come after my brilliant film career, if I remember right. And the single largest hurdle I always faced to writing professionally was choosing a genre.

You see, I love it all. I am a major fantasy addict. I love sci-fi -- Heinlein, Niven, Philip K. Dick. Historical fantasy? Mary Stewart? Mary Renault? (why didn't my mother name me Mary, dang it!?) Morgan Llwewllyn? OH man! I am so all over that! And contemporary, humorous, quietly caustic stuff... Well, I finally got to go there a little with the Shifter Sisters. Swashbuckling adventures, high rolling seas, dashing pirates -- and dragons and mighty quests and magic swords (nope, noooo pun intended there!) The far-off, the fantastic, and the occasional foray into the domestic and familiar... There is, I have no hesitation in saying, only one genre of literature that allows me all that. Plus it's got sex, too -- how can you possibly beat that?

Hey Mom! I'm gonna be an erotic romance writer!

She'll recover, some day... LOL!

-- Sierra

www.sierradafoe.com -- new site redesign in the works!

One lucky bastardess

That's what I am. I have three jobs and I wouldn't trade any of them in for something better. There's nothing in the world I'd rather do than what I'm doing. Writing books has been something I wanted to do since I was seven years old and the fact that I actually got to see that childhood wish come true is just...a blessing. (Sorry had to get a little corny there for a second.)



My second job is as a freelance photographer for our state's paper. I've only been working this one for about a month, but I'm LOVING it! Photography is by far my favorite hobby and to see a hobby start to bring in some money and additional opportunities for tax deduction, well, there ain't much better than that. And I get to go cool places and meet interesting people and have a good excuse to get up in their faces and snap away. Awesomse stuff (and a good excuse to ask for a camera upgrade for Christmas I do believe, lol!)



And my third job, which I couldn't decide to talk about first, or save until last. Those three up there on the bottom bunk. Helping raise these kids is by far my hardest and most time consuming job, but also the most rewarding. Until I had Roo, I had no idea I was capable of such fierce, fantastic love. And until I started helping raise the girls, I had no idea I was capable of loving kids that weren't 'mine' biologically in that same all-consuming way. But now, I don't know what I'd do if we lost one of them or they decided to go live with their other parent instead of me and the hubs. I love them so much, and am willing to do whatever it takes to see all three grow into strong, confident, loving grown-ups who are as well-equipped for life as I can help make them in my job as 'mom'.

Sniff! Talking about that third job always gets me choked up. Speaking of, gotta go wake those kids up.

Happy Wednesday all,


Anna J. Evans
http://annajevans.com