Which means absolutely nothing. I just thought it was kind of funny.
So the thing about teamwork (or teamiework) is that you need other people around to do it with you. To be part of your team.
I've never been very good at that. I'm not much of a team player, and actually, I've often wondered if most writers really are. I mean, our work requires that we spend large periods of time by ourselves. Even writing with someone--as when I write with the fabby Anna J. Evans, and writing with her is an absolute blast--you're still owrking alone. I don't know any writing team who looks over each others' shoulders as they write, the way we did when we got to go to the computer lab at school. (Am I dating myself there? The "lab" with, like, three Apple computers, and you could do word problems on them and that was it? And you had to partner up for your ten minutes on the computer?)
Now we promo as a team, me, Anna, Sherrill, Kelly, and Sierra. And I totally feel like the weakest link in the chain, the second stringer in the team, because this promo stuff doesn't come as easily to me as it seems to to them.
But that's the other thing about being part of a team, and that's what makes teamwork work. You care about the people in your team. You don't want to let them down. You don't want to make other people suffer because you're lazy or not in the mood or busy or whatever.
And last night I was part of a team, too, because I'm on my daughter's school's PTA, and we did a Ladies' Night, with cocktails and shopping and stuff, which was fun. But I worked my butt off and today my legs hurt from all the running around. And today my husband and I went to Bath and wandered all over the place there. So busy busy busy me...
Sometimes, no matter how much of a loner we may be, it feels good to be part of a team!
Friday, March 30, 2007
Thursday, March 29, 2007
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
What's gonna work? Teeeeammmmwork!
"What's gonna work? Teeeeammmwork!
What's gonna work? Teeaammmmmmwork!"
-The Wonder Pets, Nick Jr.
I learn about teamwork every night, usually between the hours of 7 and 8 as my youngest is winding down for the day. When it's time for a little late night bottle, and some chillin' on the couch with whatever warm body he's decided he wants to lay on that night, my son simply MUST have his Wonder Pets. In these 12 minute tales--2 per episode--Lenny the hamster, Tuck the turtle, and Ming Ming the duckling rescue baby animals in danger by working together. Despite the fact that a disproportionate amount of these baby animals are 'stuck' somewhere--in a tree, in the mud, in a tar pit, in a tree again--I actually really like this show. I think because the characters aren't your average loud talking, over-enunciating, goody-goodies (can you say Dora the f-ing explorer...I want to strangle that little spanglish talking kid). Ming Ming is actually quite a handful and prone to bouts of hubris and--
Okay, so I won't bore you with an in-depth deconstruction of the Wonder Pets, but I'm so glad my son is learning about teamwork at an early age. Not only that teamwork is necessary, but what ROLE he would like to play on a team. Is he Lenny the kind and patient leader? Is he Ming Ming, the follower who wants to be leader but really doesn't have the people skills or the desire to work quite that hard? Or is he Tuck, the mediator who gets along with most anyone and doesn't mind deferring to the superior leadership skills of his friend the Hamster?
I think knowing how your personality fits into a team is vitally important. As a film actor, I DID NOT LIKE MY ROLE IN THE TEAM AT ALL!! It drove me crazy that the screenwriter put words in the mouth of my character that were sometimes laughably awful, that the director could guide my performance into being overblown or inappropriate, and that an editor could choose the most hideous take and put IT in the movie so that I had the wonderful experience of cringing as I watched myself months later. Not to mention the makeup artist who got to draw my eyebrows in dark black, or the sound editor who dubbed lines from one take with picture from another because a plane was flying overhead, or...the damn plane itself or...
There were too many variables, too many team members, and the more team members, the harder it was to please everyone on the team.
With writing, I find the team work much more manageable. Though I've been burned once or twice by getting *that close* to a NYC contract only to be shot down by the advertising department or what have you, most of my teamwork experiences are comprised of 3-4 people who work very well together. I've worked with some amazing editors, cover artists, and copy editors, and have the great pleasure to be a part of this group of writers. I can't tell you how much fun I'm having being a DNW! Each one of these ladies is so smart, and hard-working, and funny, and I've been a part of enough groups/teams/what-have-you to know how very special our 'clicking' so easily truly is.
So thanks DNWs and to all the DNW readers--the people who make the team work possible in the first place. Thanks for reading :).
Anna J. Evans
http://laughoutloudsexy.com
http://annajevans.blogspot.com
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
Writing vs. publishing
This is the third, and last, time I've started this post. Whatever comes to me is not getting deleted. Teamwork is an interesting concept. The American culture of work has slowly evolved into one where teamwork and the ability to play well with others is celebrated. I work in one profession where I feel the quality of my service is amplified by the culture of teamwork, both within the institution and within the profession as a whole.
So, why have I chosen to write? There's a certain appeal to rarely having to deal with people, wearing whatever I want to work, and becoming absorbed in a world I've built. Those are all well and good and true, but there's another level to writing: publishing. Publishing is teamwork. You have the writer producing the story, the editor polishing the story, the cover artist depicting the story, and the reader bringing their own experiences and prejudices to the story. If any one of these team players were to drop the ball, the end product is not the best that it could be. I love being a writer, but I also appreciate that I am published thanks to wonderful teams of people.
So, why have I chosen to write? There's a certain appeal to rarely having to deal with people, wearing whatever I want to work, and becoming absorbed in a world I've built. Those are all well and good and true, but there's another level to writing: publishing. Publishing is teamwork. You have the writer producing the story, the editor polishing the story, the cover artist depicting the story, and the reader bringing their own experiences and prejudices to the story. If any one of these team players were to drop the ball, the end product is not the best that it could be. I love being a writer, but I also appreciate that I am published thanks to wonderful teams of people.
Monday, March 26, 2007
Teamwork
I had today's blog all done on Friday afternoon, and left it at work (because I couldn't work on it online, I typed it up and printed it off to carry it home with me). It was a really good blog, too. LOL Oh, well, we'll see if I can recreate it in some semblance or other.
Our topic this week is Teamwork. What is it, what does it mean?
I'm going to approach this from a business perspective...cuz it's what I know. Just about everyone has been on a team before--whether it's been in sports (competitive or just plain having fun), in business, or being part of a family. To me, being on a team means thinking bigger than yourself. There are other people depending on you to carry your fair share, even when you don't feel like it.
The great industrialist Andrew Carnegie said this about teams: "Teamwork is the ability to work together toward a common vision. The ability to direct individual accomplishments toward organizational objectives. It is the fuel that allows common people to attain uncommon results."
Deliciously Naughty Writers is a team. We've banded together to pool our resources, to play off of each other's strengths, to shore up our weaknesses. And to have a good time along the way, of course. But for this group to be successful, we must each play our part.
Teamwork divides the task and doubles the success.
There is no time off, no breaks. And I'm not talking about not being able to take a vacation. I'm talking about having a "I don't feel like doing it this week/month/year". As a team, we're all in this together, and as Ben Franklin said, "We must all hang together, or assuredly, we shall all hang separately.
One last thought. Back in 1980, the U.S. was in an energy crisis, a hostage crisis, a recession...It was not our best year. A group of college and minor league hockey players (with an average age of 21) faced down competitors that were bigger, more experienced, and they came out on top. Because they were a team, and used each other's strengths to their best advantage. I'm talking about the U.S. hockey team, who beat the Soviet team at the Winter Olympics in Lake Placid in New York. Commentator Al Michael's now-famous response says it all:
"Do you believe in miracles? Yes!"
So, what do you think? Have you been part of a team before, and was it successful--or not?
"Alone we can do so little; together we can do so much." ~Helen Keller
Our topic this week is Teamwork. What is it, what does it mean?
I'm going to approach this from a business perspective...cuz it's what I know. Just about everyone has been on a team before--whether it's been in sports (competitive or just plain having fun), in business, or being part of a family. To me, being on a team means thinking bigger than yourself. There are other people depending on you to carry your fair share, even when you don't feel like it.
The great industrialist Andrew Carnegie said this about teams: "Teamwork is the ability to work together toward a common vision. The ability to direct individual accomplishments toward organizational objectives. It is the fuel that allows common people to attain uncommon results."
Deliciously Naughty Writers is a team. We've banded together to pool our resources, to play off of each other's strengths, to shore up our weaknesses. And to have a good time along the way, of course. But for this group to be successful, we must each play our part.
Teamwork divides the task and doubles the success.
There is no time off, no breaks. And I'm not talking about not being able to take a vacation. I'm talking about having a "I don't feel like doing it this week/month/year". As a team, we're all in this together, and as Ben Franklin said, "We must all hang together, or assuredly, we shall all hang separately.
One last thought. Back in 1980, the U.S. was in an energy crisis, a hostage crisis, a recession...It was not our best year. A group of college and minor league hockey players (with an average age of 21) faced down competitors that were bigger, more experienced, and they came out on top. Because they were a team, and used each other's strengths to their best advantage. I'm talking about the U.S. hockey team, who beat the Soviet team at the Winter Olympics in Lake Placid in New York. Commentator Al Michael's now-famous response says it all:
"Do you believe in miracles? Yes!"
So, what do you think? Have you been part of a team before, and was it successful--or not?
"Alone we can do so little; together we can do so much." ~Helen Keller
Friday, March 23, 2007
All About Me, it's all about me...
...and now I have no idea what to say. I never do when it comes to describing myself, or writing a bio, or whatever. My EC bio is my favorite. It's like three sentences long.
What about me? I was born in Illinois, I grew up in St. Louis, I lived in Florida for a dozen years and now I live in the southwest of England. Along the way I picked up a husband and two adorable little girls. (They were hitchhiking. Ha ha, no, the children came in the usual way. Or not so usual, as they were c-sections? I don't know. Anyway, they're here and they look a lot like me.)
And I always wanted to be a writer (among other things), and I'd done some writing before but never seriously, and after Girl 1 (the Princess) was born I wrote a romance novel. Because I like books where people fall in love. The book had rather more sex than a regular romance, because I like books where people have hot sex.
The book was also junk, to put it nicely. Full of cliches, fairly dull, and with a conflict straight out of "how to make your characters look stupid because they won't just have a two-minute conversation" school.
But I loved writing it. So I did another. And then I realized that there was such a thing as erotic romance, and fell in luuurve.
I sold three short stories to Whiskey Creek Press-Torrid in quick succession, then a straiht medieval to Trsikelion publishing, then an erotic fantasy romance novel called Prince of Death to Whiskey Creek Press-Torrid, and now I've sold two novels to Ellora's Cave (a paranormal I wrote with Miss Anna J. Evans, and a vampire romance I wrote on my own.)
I rant a lot on my own blog, and love it when people comment. I'm friendly (most of the time) and so are my regular buddies over there, so don't be shy.
I love to write about vampires and demons and faeries and other naughty bad boys with super powers, and I love to write historicals about tough men with big swords, too. I plan to keep writing both.
Here's an excerpt from Prince of Death--currently the #4 bestseller over at Whiskey Creek Press-Torrid! The book is available here!
His tunic was much too big for her. It fell almost to midcalf, and the neckline gaped open enough to expose one rosy nipple and an expanse of collarbone so delicate it made Cynwrig’s mouth water.
She fiddled with the string, trying to pull it tightly shut, but all that did was make the sides of the shirt puff out so she looked like a muffin with a head.
“This is useless,” she said. “I look like a finocha, a slave. I cannot face your people like this.”
Actually, Cynwrig thought she looked adorable, but knew she wouldn’t take that as the compliment he meant it to be. Instead he said, “I have a belt that might help.”
She nodded, and he turned away to find the heavy gold chain he wore for ceremonial occasions. In the mirror he saw her gaze following him, travelling up and down his body in obvious appreciation, and smiled. There was something else in that look, too. Sorrow? Anger? He couldn’t be sure, but there was no mistaking the heat with which her look caressed him. An answering heat flared through his body, hardening his cock and making his blood flow faster through his veins. Danu, she was a sexy woman. He knew she had an ulterior motive for seducing him, but he didn’t care. He could match her move for move and enjoy it immensely, and if she thought that meant he trusted her, so much the better.
She turned him on, and there was nothing he could do to fight it.
He found the belt and carried it to where she stood like a queen waiting for her courtier. She started to take it from him, but he shook his head. “Allow me,” he said.
Obediently she raised her arms to shoulder level, holding them straight out from her sides, letting him put his arms around her narrow waist.
In doing so his face came close to her neck. They’d both bathed again, and her skin was fragrant with herbed soap. Experimentally he ran the tip of his tongue up the side of her throat and was rewarded by her low hum of pleasure as she tilted her head sideways, exposing the slender column of her neck to him.
His hands slid tighter around her waist, scrunching the heavy belt between them as he cupped her ass and squeezed gently. Her own hands stayed where they were, in the air at her sides, giving him access to her entire body.
The posture of compliance was at odds with the lusty sighs she emitted as he continued to explore her skin with his mouth. Nibbling her tiny earlobes placed his nose firmly in the silken tangle of her hair, giving him a chance to breathe more deeply of her scent.
The belt fell to the floor, unnoticed by either of them, as he pulled at the string holding the tunic’s neckline closed. The white fabric gaped open again, her exposed nipples hard in the cool air.
“Beautiful,” he breathed, not realizing he was speaking. Her breasts fit perfectly in the palms of his hands as he caressed them, stroking from her collarbone down, rolling their hard tips between his fingers. He gave them a little tug, making Ayani gasp.
Glancing up at her, he saw she was watching him, her gaze steady, her eyes already heavy-lidded with desire. “It is not fair,” she said. “You can look at me, but I cannot look at you.”
“You could help with that,” he replied.
Finally, she lowered her hands, bringing them forward and running them down the broad planes of his chest to his waist. He watched as she tugged at his belt, undoing the clasp and letting it fall to the floor.
His eyes closed of their own volition as her slim hand dipped into the front of his pants, stroking his cock. He could feel the bead of moisture already at the tip, and Ayani ran her hand across it, using his own fluid as a lubricant to rub her palm over his engorged head.
His breath hissed between his teeth, the sound almost deafening in his ears.
He didn’t move as she stroked him, squeezing his shaft between moistened fingers. Her free hand cupped his balls, lightly scratching the delicate skin with her fingernails.
In one swift movement she yanked his pants the rest of the way down. He barely had time to register the feel of the air swirling around his damp cock before she was on her knees in front of him, her hands resting on the fronts of his thighs.
What about me? I was born in Illinois, I grew up in St. Louis, I lived in Florida for a dozen years and now I live in the southwest of England. Along the way I picked up a husband and two adorable little girls. (They were hitchhiking. Ha ha, no, the children came in the usual way. Or not so usual, as they were c-sections? I don't know. Anyway, they're here and they look a lot like me.)
And I always wanted to be a writer (among other things), and I'd done some writing before but never seriously, and after Girl 1 (the Princess) was born I wrote a romance novel. Because I like books where people fall in love. The book had rather more sex than a regular romance, because I like books where people have hot sex.
The book was also junk, to put it nicely. Full of cliches, fairly dull, and with a conflict straight out of "how to make your characters look stupid because they won't just have a two-minute conversation" school.
But I loved writing it. So I did another. And then I realized that there was such a thing as erotic romance, and fell in luuurve.
I sold three short stories to Whiskey Creek Press-Torrid in quick succession, then a straiht medieval to Trsikelion publishing, then an erotic fantasy romance novel called Prince of Death to Whiskey Creek Press-Torrid, and now I've sold two novels to Ellora's Cave (a paranormal I wrote with Miss Anna J. Evans, and a vampire romance I wrote on my own.)
I rant a lot on my own blog, and love it when people comment. I'm friendly (most of the time) and so are my regular buddies over there, so don't be shy.
I love to write about vampires and demons and faeries and other naughty bad boys with super powers, and I love to write historicals about tough men with big swords, too. I plan to keep writing both.
Here's an excerpt from Prince of Death--currently the #4 bestseller over at Whiskey Creek Press-Torrid! The book is available here!
His tunic was much too big for her. It fell almost to midcalf, and the neckline gaped open enough to expose one rosy nipple and an expanse of collarbone so delicate it made Cynwrig’s mouth water.
She fiddled with the string, trying to pull it tightly shut, but all that did was make the sides of the shirt puff out so she looked like a muffin with a head.
“This is useless,” she said. “I look like a finocha, a slave. I cannot face your people like this.”
Actually, Cynwrig thought she looked adorable, but knew she wouldn’t take that as the compliment he meant it to be. Instead he said, “I have a belt that might help.”
She nodded, and he turned away to find the heavy gold chain he wore for ceremonial occasions. In the mirror he saw her gaze following him, travelling up and down his body in obvious appreciation, and smiled. There was something else in that look, too. Sorrow? Anger? He couldn’t be sure, but there was no mistaking the heat with which her look caressed him. An answering heat flared through his body, hardening his cock and making his blood flow faster through his veins. Danu, she was a sexy woman. He knew she had an ulterior motive for seducing him, but he didn’t care. He could match her move for move and enjoy it immensely, and if she thought that meant he trusted her, so much the better.
She turned him on, and there was nothing he could do to fight it.
He found the belt and carried it to where she stood like a queen waiting for her courtier. She started to take it from him, but he shook his head. “Allow me,” he said.
Obediently she raised her arms to shoulder level, holding them straight out from her sides, letting him put his arms around her narrow waist.
In doing so his face came close to her neck. They’d both bathed again, and her skin was fragrant with herbed soap. Experimentally he ran the tip of his tongue up the side of her throat and was rewarded by her low hum of pleasure as she tilted her head sideways, exposing the slender column of her neck to him.
His hands slid tighter around her waist, scrunching the heavy belt between them as he cupped her ass and squeezed gently. Her own hands stayed where they were, in the air at her sides, giving him access to her entire body.
The posture of compliance was at odds with the lusty sighs she emitted as he continued to explore her skin with his mouth. Nibbling her tiny earlobes placed his nose firmly in the silken tangle of her hair, giving him a chance to breathe more deeply of her scent.
The belt fell to the floor, unnoticed by either of them, as he pulled at the string holding the tunic’s neckline closed. The white fabric gaped open again, her exposed nipples hard in the cool air.
“Beautiful,” he breathed, not realizing he was speaking. Her breasts fit perfectly in the palms of his hands as he caressed them, stroking from her collarbone down, rolling their hard tips between his fingers. He gave them a little tug, making Ayani gasp.
Glancing up at her, he saw she was watching him, her gaze steady, her eyes already heavy-lidded with desire. “It is not fair,” she said. “You can look at me, but I cannot look at you.”
“You could help with that,” he replied.
Finally, she lowered her hands, bringing them forward and running them down the broad planes of his chest to his waist. He watched as she tugged at his belt, undoing the clasp and letting it fall to the floor.
His eyes closed of their own volition as her slim hand dipped into the front of his pants, stroking his cock. He could feel the bead of moisture already at the tip, and Ayani ran her hand across it, using his own fluid as a lubricant to rub her palm over his engorged head.
His breath hissed between his teeth, the sound almost deafening in his ears.
He didn’t move as she stroked him, squeezing his shaft between moistened fingers. Her free hand cupped his balls, lightly scratching the delicate skin with her fingernails.
In one swift movement she yanked his pants the rest of the way down. He barely had time to register the feel of the air swirling around his damp cock before she was on her knees in front of him, her hands resting on the fronts of his thighs.
Thursday, March 22, 2007
And suddenly... Sierra!
Subject: Sierra Dafoe
Birthdate: June 1, year unascertained
Known whereabouts:
her headquarters
her den of accomplices
her hideout
her underworld connection
Wanted on suspicion of: consorting with characters of every description, aiding and abetting the consumption of erotic materials, wantonly and without remorse supplying smut of the most heinous kind to readers everywhere. Should be considered armed and dangerous, especially when carrying a laptop -- APPROACH WITH CAUTION!
Hee! Okay, so maybe not all that bad. To tell the truth, I find it easier to talk about my characters (who occasionally really are armed and dangerous!) than to talk about me. They're all a little bit me anyway, I think -- whether I like to admit it or not.
I've had, ummm, an interesting life. I was lucky enough to grow up in a well-to-do suburb of New York City, which meant a very good school system, regular trips to the dentist, and the opportunity to play hookey and take the train into Manhattan. I don't think my education would have entirely been approved of by the school board, but I've seen the second half of more Broadway shows than you can shake a stick at!
From there, I moved to what was at the time the second or third poorest county in the US -- Washington County, Maine. And yup, I really did live in a little log cabin that you had to hike past a horse pasture to get to, no electricity, no running water -- but the silence of those woods is something I will never forget.
Eventually, though, I went to college, and proceeded to get very involved in theater (as well as amassing a good portion of the research which became central to my later career as a writer of erotica -- does this need translation? Probably not. Suffice it to say, I was a dog.) I've been any number of things, over the years, but the one thing I have consistently been is a writer. Finally, I smartened up and realized maybe I should be writing professionally -- or at least make the attempt! So, after a brief (and interesting) fling with screenwriting, I came back to writing stories. And I love it. And today, I even have a brand new release to share with you all!
I've been with Changeling Press since May of last year, when my first novella, Devarian Exile, was published. It's been a wild ride since then! And I've been fortunate enough to have wonderful readers who enjoy what I'm doing and are willing to jump right on the rollercoaster with me. God, I love you guys. And today, to say thank you, I'm digging out a never-before-seen, exclusive to the Deliciously Naughty Blog excerpt! (check Club Naughty, too, for another excerpt!)
So, enough about me. Let's get to the good stuff!
For the past five days, on wing and on foot, they'd explored Djarera, the dragon world Lara had been born to and had never seen until Melgara had sent Darrek and Rand to bring her back from Earth. Lara had listened delightedly as Zendar told her about her homeland, and the histories of the clans that inhabited it. She’d laughed when he brought her handfuls of priamor, the fragrant purple flowers whose petals were like velvet, or wove sprigs of asthuraia, the tiny silver-white snowflowers that grew only on the tops of Djarera’s highest peaks, into her hair.
And they’d made love, in dragon form and in human, till there were times she was certain she’d never be able to walk, much less make love ever again -- at least until he’d pull her back down on top of him, his long golden hair spilling around his handsome face. One night they’d camped in a cave and to her delight, Zendar had pinned her against the cavern wall, reenacting her kidnapping with a zeal that had left her breathless with lust. He was a constant source of wonder to her, a ferocious lover who took her with a savage, breathtaking intensity, and more tender than even Rand when he held her afterwards.
Like now. His hands drifted over her, caressing her as lightly as the cool morning breeze, stroking her shoulders. With one hand, he traced the line of her neck and chin, then lifted her face toward his and kissed her. His tongue probed her mouth, slow and deep, till she wrapped hers around it. They kissed, their tongues intertwining, until Lara felt her breath coming short and her nipples contracting. Reaching up to him, she buried her hands in his thick golden hair and pulled his mouth down harder against hers.
Grinning, he drew back slightly, his emerald-green eyes sparkling with mischief. “Why, my lady, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you wanted me to fuck you again.”
Scowling in mock outrage, Lara moved to pull away from him -- and felt, as she’d hoped she would, his hands tighten around her waist. Rolling to his side, he clasped her against him, and she felt the insistent beat of his renewed erection against her belly.
“Why is it,” he murmured as his hands slid, one to the curve of her breasts and the other to her ass, tugging her even closer, “that all you seem to do today is try to run away from me?”
“You know why,” she whispered.
“Is it so I’ll be forced to do this?” he replied, rolling her onto her back and moving on top of her. “Or this, perhaps?” Greedily, he lowered his head to her breasts, cupping them firmly as he suckled first one upright nipple, then the other, until Lara arched below him, whimpering with need.
“Oh, you like that.” His eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he lifted his head. His fingers kept playing over her breasts, tickling and teasing the hard, furrowed tips. Then he pinched them, and Lara gasped, raising her hips so her mons brushed the thick, engorged weight of his shaft.
His cockhead rubbed against her throbbing clit, and smiling wickedly, Zendar rolled his hips, dragging the length of his shaft back and forth through the nest of her curls. Propping himself on his elbows, he watched her expression as he moved above her, his hands squeezing her breasts mercilessly.
“God, Zendar, if you don’t fuck me now…” Lara whispered through her clenched teeth. She could feel the need inside her spiraling dangerously close to the edge. If he so much as stroked his cock over her clit one more time, or tugged her nipples just a little harder…
“What? You’re going to come?” Grinning, he tilted his head and breathed in her ear as he pushed his cock more firmly against her. “But I want you to come, my wife. I want you to come for me -- right now.”
Panting, she clung to him as he tortured her clit, working his hard, throbbing shaft over it. His hands kneaded her breasts, his fingers pulling her nipples as delectably as his mouth had. His tongue found its way back into her mouth, and she could feel every inch of his huge, muscled body straining down toward that point where they came together, toward the hot, hungry heat pulsing in her groin.
Growling, he thrust his tongue deeper, and ground his cock against her mons -- and then she was peaking, moaning into his mouth as she clung to him, feeling ecstasy rolling through her in warm, golden waves. Cries spilled from her throat, and Zendar sent a shudder of bliss straight through her core as he spread her juice-slicked folds and sank his shaft home.
Birthdate: June 1, year unascertained
Known whereabouts:
her headquarters
her den of accomplices
her hideout
her underworld connection
Wanted on suspicion of: consorting with characters of every description, aiding and abetting the consumption of erotic materials, wantonly and without remorse supplying smut of the most heinous kind to readers everywhere. Should be considered armed and dangerous, especially when carrying a laptop -- APPROACH WITH CAUTION!
Hee! Okay, so maybe not all that bad. To tell the truth, I find it easier to talk about my characters (who occasionally really are armed and dangerous!) than to talk about me. They're all a little bit me anyway, I think -- whether I like to admit it or not.
I've had, ummm, an interesting life. I was lucky enough to grow up in a well-to-do suburb of New York City, which meant a very good school system, regular trips to the dentist, and the opportunity to play hookey and take the train into Manhattan. I don't think my education would have entirely been approved of by the school board, but I've seen the second half of more Broadway shows than you can shake a stick at!
From there, I moved to what was at the time the second or third poorest county in the US -- Washington County, Maine. And yup, I really did live in a little log cabin that you had to hike past a horse pasture to get to, no electricity, no running water -- but the silence of those woods is something I will never forget.
Eventually, though, I went to college, and proceeded to get very involved in theater (as well as amassing a good portion of the research which became central to my later career as a writer of erotica -- does this need translation? Probably not. Suffice it to say, I was a dog.) I've been any number of things, over the years, but the one thing I have consistently been is a writer. Finally, I smartened up and realized maybe I should be writing professionally -- or at least make the attempt! So, after a brief (and interesting) fling with screenwriting, I came back to writing stories. And I love it. And today, I even have a brand new release to share with you all!
I've been with Changeling Press since May of last year, when my first novella, Devarian Exile, was published. It's been a wild ride since then! And I've been fortunate enough to have wonderful readers who enjoy what I'm doing and are willing to jump right on the rollercoaster with me. God, I love you guys. And today, to say thank you, I'm digging out a never-before-seen, exclusive to the Deliciously Naughty Blog excerpt! (check Club Naughty, too, for another excerpt!)
So, enough about me. Let's get to the good stuff!
For the past five days, on wing and on foot, they'd explored Djarera, the dragon world Lara had been born to and had never seen until Melgara had sent Darrek and Rand to bring her back from Earth. Lara had listened delightedly as Zendar told her about her homeland, and the histories of the clans that inhabited it. She’d laughed when he brought her handfuls of priamor, the fragrant purple flowers whose petals were like velvet, or wove sprigs of asthuraia, the tiny silver-white snowflowers that grew only on the tops of Djarera’s highest peaks, into her hair.
And they’d made love, in dragon form and in human, till there were times she was certain she’d never be able to walk, much less make love ever again -- at least until he’d pull her back down on top of him, his long golden hair spilling around his handsome face. One night they’d camped in a cave and to her delight, Zendar had pinned her against the cavern wall, reenacting her kidnapping with a zeal that had left her breathless with lust. He was a constant source of wonder to her, a ferocious lover who took her with a savage, breathtaking intensity, and more tender than even Rand when he held her afterwards.
Like now. His hands drifted over her, caressing her as lightly as the cool morning breeze, stroking her shoulders. With one hand, he traced the line of her neck and chin, then lifted her face toward his and kissed her. His tongue probed her mouth, slow and deep, till she wrapped hers around it. They kissed, their tongues intertwining, until Lara felt her breath coming short and her nipples contracting. Reaching up to him, she buried her hands in his thick golden hair and pulled his mouth down harder against hers.
Grinning, he drew back slightly, his emerald-green eyes sparkling with mischief. “Why, my lady, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you wanted me to fuck you again.”
Scowling in mock outrage, Lara moved to pull away from him -- and felt, as she’d hoped she would, his hands tighten around her waist. Rolling to his side, he clasped her against him, and she felt the insistent beat of his renewed erection against her belly.
“Why is it,” he murmured as his hands slid, one to the curve of her breasts and the other to her ass, tugging her even closer, “that all you seem to do today is try to run away from me?”
“You know why,” she whispered.
“Is it so I’ll be forced to do this?” he replied, rolling her onto her back and moving on top of her. “Or this, perhaps?” Greedily, he lowered his head to her breasts, cupping them firmly as he suckled first one upright nipple, then the other, until Lara arched below him, whimpering with need.
“Oh, you like that.” His eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he lifted his head. His fingers kept playing over her breasts, tickling and teasing the hard, furrowed tips. Then he pinched them, and Lara gasped, raising her hips so her mons brushed the thick, engorged weight of his shaft.
His cockhead rubbed against her throbbing clit, and smiling wickedly, Zendar rolled his hips, dragging the length of his shaft back and forth through the nest of her curls. Propping himself on his elbows, he watched her expression as he moved above her, his hands squeezing her breasts mercilessly.
“God, Zendar, if you don’t fuck me now…” Lara whispered through her clenched teeth. She could feel the need inside her spiraling dangerously close to the edge. If he so much as stroked his cock over her clit one more time, or tugged her nipples just a little harder…
“What? You’re going to come?” Grinning, he tilted his head and breathed in her ear as he pushed his cock more firmly against her. “But I want you to come, my wife. I want you to come for me -- right now.”
Panting, she clung to him as he tortured her clit, working his hard, throbbing shaft over it. His hands kneaded her breasts, his fingers pulling her nipples as delectably as his mouth had. His tongue found its way back into her mouth, and she could feel every inch of his huge, muscled body straining down toward that point where they came together, toward the hot, hungry heat pulsing in her groin.
Growling, he thrust his tongue deeper, and ground his cock against her mons -- and then she was peaking, moaning into his mouth as she clung to him, feeling ecstasy rolling through her in warm, golden waves. Cries spilled from her throat, and Zendar sent a shudder of bliss straight through her core as he spread her juice-slicked folds and sank his shaft home.
Want to read more of Dragon's Desire? Just click HERE!
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
A more thorough intro from Anna and a 'cerpt
I shared a little bit about my writing history last Wednesday, but it seems we're all going a bit more in depth this week so I thought I'd share these pictures from when I was five years old. (Yes, be prepared to settle in for awhile, lol.) They were taken by a photographer friend of my dad's at the company picnic just before the 5-8 year old race. I remember my dad warning me that I *might* not win that race--despite the fact that I thought I was a terribly fast runner--because all the kids were older than me.
As you can tell from this pic, his warning did nothing to decrease my determination. If anything, I remember feeling excited by this challenge. I WOULD beat those older kids--most of them boys--oh yes I would! The whistle blew, we all took off running past the strange 1970's art sculptures the park had put up a few years past, and I was in second place!! Until....I tripped and fell down and everyone else raced past me.
God...the shame! I pulled myself up, drug myself over the finish line because in our family we finish the race! and then slunk off to a tree to mourn my loss....in private...because that's how I preferred to mourn...
But some jerk came over to take my picture!!! To document my shame!!! ARGH! I didn't even like my mom or dad to give me kisses when I fell down and scraped my knee, I preferred to go hide in the closet until I could stop crying and present my wound with some dignity. How dare this photographer whooo-ha DARE to come and snap my pic like it was cute that I was so deeply upset over my poor finish in the 5-8 year old race.
So I growled at him, as any self-respecting budding type A personality would and I think he went away. Then my dad came over and said he was proud I finished and we went and bought a Mellow Yellow and enjoyed the rest of the day, putting that low moment behind us.
So...there. I guess that tells you all you need to know about me, lol. I've mellowed out over the years, but I still take whatever job I'm at very seriously, whether it be mommying, writing, or cleaning the....okay, so maybe not the cleaning part. I've definitely mellowed out where the state of our bathroom floors are concerned.
There's more to share, of course, but I'm hoping you all will be around for awhile and we'll have plenty of time to get to know each other--and for me to pull out the nine year old pictures where I have the foot high eighties bangs :).
On to the excerpt!
"Main Attraction"
1st in the Perfectly Wicked series
by Anna J. Evans
Available April 11th, 2007
http://ellorascave.com
As you can tell from this pic, his warning did nothing to decrease my determination. If anything, I remember feeling excited by this challenge. I WOULD beat those older kids--most of them boys--oh yes I would! The whistle blew, we all took off running past the strange 1970's art sculptures the park had put up a few years past, and I was in second place!! Until....I tripped and fell down and everyone else raced past me.
God...the shame! I pulled myself up, drug myself over the finish line because in our family we finish the race! and then slunk off to a tree to mourn my loss....in private...because that's how I preferred to mourn...
But some jerk came over to take my picture!!! To document my shame!!! ARGH! I didn't even like my mom or dad to give me kisses when I fell down and scraped my knee, I preferred to go hide in the closet until I could stop crying and present my wound with some dignity. How dare this photographer whooo-ha DARE to come and snap my pic like it was cute that I was so deeply upset over my poor finish in the 5-8 year old race.
So I growled at him, as any self-respecting budding type A personality would and I think he went away. Then my dad came over and said he was proud I finished and we went and bought a Mellow Yellow and enjoyed the rest of the day, putting that low moment behind us.
So...there. I guess that tells you all you need to know about me, lol. I've mellowed out over the years, but I still take whatever job I'm at very seriously, whether it be mommying, writing, or cleaning the....okay, so maybe not the cleaning part. I've definitely mellowed out where the state of our bathroom floors are concerned.
There's more to share, of course, but I'm hoping you all will be around for awhile and we'll have plenty of time to get to know each other--and for me to pull out the nine year old pictures where I have the foot high eighties bangs :).
On to the excerpt!
"Main Attraction"
1st in the Perfectly Wicked series
by Anna J. Evans
Available April 11th, 2007
http://ellorascave.com
BLURB:
Edna Emily Rella runs Wicked Stepmother’s, the hottest S&M parlor in Kingdom City, but she has a secret…she’s not so terribly wicked. A dominatrix by necessity, rather than calling, she does her best to capitalize on her naughty reputation. After the smear campaign waged by her stepdaughter, Cynthia, there aren’t many employment options. She’s made the best of a bad situation…until now.
Frank, the Captain of the Queen’s guard, has been sent to protect Emily from the stalker threatening her life. Posing as a client, this dominant male soon realizes he’s in for more trouble than he bargained for. Emily is a born submissive, there’s no doubt in his mind. He can hardly resist the urge to show her what she’s been missing on the Mistress side of the fence.
Now Emily and Frank must make a decision, cling to lives that have left them unfulfilled or go outside their comfort zones for the chance at a love, and a passion, unlike either has ever known.
EXCERPT:
Seeing him standing, she’d guess he was at least six-foot-four and weighed in at double her own weight. His head was completely shaved, but his impressively muscled chest and tree trunk legs sported a healthy growth of coarse, reddish-brown hair, a testament to the testosterone no doubt surging through his body. Big Baldy was imposing all the way around, from his huge hands to his ice-blue eyes to the way his bare toes curled into the carpet. Even the cream loincloth the girls at the front desk had given him couldn’t make him look the slightest bit ridiculous.
Instead, the damn thing just allowed him to showcase the perfection of his body. He was composed of pure muscle, with a chiseled face as striking as the rest of him. He was a damn attractive man, more attractive than any lover she’d ever had. He probably had a different woman in his bed every night, all more than willing to fulfill his desires free of charge.
But it wasn’t his physical presence or stud factor alone that cowed her. She knew better than that. It was the commanding air that filled his voice, radiated all around him. It had intimidated and aroused her from the second she met his eyes. He was the only true dominant in this room, and they both knew it. What’s worse, she wanted him, and they both knew that too. Her own traitorous libido had worked against her as much as his reluctance to take her attempts at control seriously.
She was an idiot to have thought she could top him, to even have had the guts to try.
“Listen, I—”
“You’re crying,” Baldy said, his voice and eyes as soft as the rest of him was imposing.
“Yes, I am.” His unexpected compassion only made her want to sob harder. Goddamn Baldy, why did he have to choose this moment to play nice? Niceness got to her like nothing else. It was so much easier to keep up her tough girl act when the man she was dominating treated her like an object. When she was just a woman with a dangerous reputation who her client would have liked to fuck if she allowed the Mistress roll to go that far.
Compassion was the one emotion she’d never seen on a client’s face, and it made her want to run to Baldy and fall into his arms, to take comfort in his strength. She would gladly take whatever punishment, sensual or otherwise, he would dish out if he would hold her afterwards. In fact, her fantasy of being bent over and fucked from behind only became more attractive when she imagined him cradling her in his lap after they were done, kissing away her tears as she sobbed into his chest.
Maybe there, wrapped in his heat, she might finally feel safe for the first time in years.
Fuck, Edna. Get rid of this man before you do something really stupid.
“You win, okay? You’re right, I’m a complete fraud,” Edna said. Tears flowed freely down her face and her nose began to run. “Now will you go?”
“Don’t cry. We can work through this,” he said with that same commanding tone, but with a softer edge to his words. He reminded her of her high school track coach delivering a pep talk to the relay team. Just what she needed, a dominatrix pep talk.
The entire situation was so absurd that she started laugh-crying again, making a ton of unfeminine and un-dominatrix-like snorting noises that should have scared Baldy away if nothing else had already. Not only was she a fraud, she was a completely un-sexy fraud who snorted when she cried. Could she be more undesirable?
Better yet, why was she concerned with being desirable to a man she wanted out of her presence as soon as possible?
“You just need to take a few deep breaths,” he continued, crossing toward her with slow, measured steps that quickly banished her laughter.
She suddenly felt hunted, despite his kind words. The way he stalked toward her, eyes taking in every inch of her bare skin, should have been sufficient reminder that this was no track coach. This was a man who looked like he killed for a living and hunted for sport. The killing part was just plain scary. Unfortunately, her traitorous body liked the idea of being Baldy’s prey, liked it way too much.
“Think about a nice, safe, quiet place and imagine yourself there. Now start breathing more slowly, breathe in the air of that safe place.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me, Baldy,” Edna said, trying to laugh but failing miserably. She could hardly breathe with him this close, let alone laugh. His heat warmed the front of her body and her nipples tightened again as she imagined being pressed flat against him, her bare breasts smashed against his strong chest.
“Baldy?” His mouth quirked at the edges again, but his eyes didn’t hold the slightest hint of humor. Instead, they smoldered, boring into hers, telegraphing an invitation that was clearly sexual in nature.
“Do you prefer Big Baldy?”
“I prefer Frank,” he said.
“Well okay, Frank, but…I…uh…” Edna’s breath hitched and her words fled when Frank reached out and let one finger trail down the side of her corset. Idly, casually, he stroked her ribs and moved down toward the curve of her waist. Even with that simple touch, he conveyed a sense of ownership, and Edna had to admit that it felt right for him to touch her, to think of herself as his to do with what he would.
“Yes?” he prompted. His fingers curled possessively around her hip and pulled her a little closer. A few more inches and they would touch, and she would know if he was one-tenth as aroused as she was quickly becoming.
“I have a rule—if I know your name, I can’t play with you.”
“Okay, but what about me playing with you?” His fingers tightened, pressing into the flesh of her hip with enough force to hurt a little, and to make her pussy gush wet heat onto her already ruined panties.
Edna Emily Rella runs Wicked Stepmother’s, the hottest S&M parlor in Kingdom City, but she has a secret…she’s not so terribly wicked. A dominatrix by necessity, rather than calling, she does her best to capitalize on her naughty reputation. After the smear campaign waged by her stepdaughter, Cynthia, there aren’t many employment options. She’s made the best of a bad situation…until now.
Frank, the Captain of the Queen’s guard, has been sent to protect Emily from the stalker threatening her life. Posing as a client, this dominant male soon realizes he’s in for more trouble than he bargained for. Emily is a born submissive, there’s no doubt in his mind. He can hardly resist the urge to show her what she’s been missing on the Mistress side of the fence.
Now Emily and Frank must make a decision, cling to lives that have left them unfulfilled or go outside their comfort zones for the chance at a love, and a passion, unlike either has ever known.
EXCERPT:
Seeing him standing, she’d guess he was at least six-foot-four and weighed in at double her own weight. His head was completely shaved, but his impressively muscled chest and tree trunk legs sported a healthy growth of coarse, reddish-brown hair, a testament to the testosterone no doubt surging through his body. Big Baldy was imposing all the way around, from his huge hands to his ice-blue eyes to the way his bare toes curled into the carpet. Even the cream loincloth the girls at the front desk had given him couldn’t make him look the slightest bit ridiculous.
Instead, the damn thing just allowed him to showcase the perfection of his body. He was composed of pure muscle, with a chiseled face as striking as the rest of him. He was a damn attractive man, more attractive than any lover she’d ever had. He probably had a different woman in his bed every night, all more than willing to fulfill his desires free of charge.
But it wasn’t his physical presence or stud factor alone that cowed her. She knew better than that. It was the commanding air that filled his voice, radiated all around him. It had intimidated and aroused her from the second she met his eyes. He was the only true dominant in this room, and they both knew it. What’s worse, she wanted him, and they both knew that too. Her own traitorous libido had worked against her as much as his reluctance to take her attempts at control seriously.
She was an idiot to have thought she could top him, to even have had the guts to try.
“Listen, I—”
“You’re crying,” Baldy said, his voice and eyes as soft as the rest of him was imposing.
“Yes, I am.” His unexpected compassion only made her want to sob harder. Goddamn Baldy, why did he have to choose this moment to play nice? Niceness got to her like nothing else. It was so much easier to keep up her tough girl act when the man she was dominating treated her like an object. When she was just a woman with a dangerous reputation who her client would have liked to fuck if she allowed the Mistress roll to go that far.
Compassion was the one emotion she’d never seen on a client’s face, and it made her want to run to Baldy and fall into his arms, to take comfort in his strength. She would gladly take whatever punishment, sensual or otherwise, he would dish out if he would hold her afterwards. In fact, her fantasy of being bent over and fucked from behind only became more attractive when she imagined him cradling her in his lap after they were done, kissing away her tears as she sobbed into his chest.
Maybe there, wrapped in his heat, she might finally feel safe for the first time in years.
Fuck, Edna. Get rid of this man before you do something really stupid.
“You win, okay? You’re right, I’m a complete fraud,” Edna said. Tears flowed freely down her face and her nose began to run. “Now will you go?”
“Don’t cry. We can work through this,” he said with that same commanding tone, but with a softer edge to his words. He reminded her of her high school track coach delivering a pep talk to the relay team. Just what she needed, a dominatrix pep talk.
The entire situation was so absurd that she started laugh-crying again, making a ton of unfeminine and un-dominatrix-like snorting noises that should have scared Baldy away if nothing else had already. Not only was she a fraud, she was a completely un-sexy fraud who snorted when she cried. Could she be more undesirable?
Better yet, why was she concerned with being desirable to a man she wanted out of her presence as soon as possible?
“You just need to take a few deep breaths,” he continued, crossing toward her with slow, measured steps that quickly banished her laughter.
She suddenly felt hunted, despite his kind words. The way he stalked toward her, eyes taking in every inch of her bare skin, should have been sufficient reminder that this was no track coach. This was a man who looked like he killed for a living and hunted for sport. The killing part was just plain scary. Unfortunately, her traitorous body liked the idea of being Baldy’s prey, liked it way too much.
“Think about a nice, safe, quiet place and imagine yourself there. Now start breathing more slowly, breathe in the air of that safe place.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me, Baldy,” Edna said, trying to laugh but failing miserably. She could hardly breathe with him this close, let alone laugh. His heat warmed the front of her body and her nipples tightened again as she imagined being pressed flat against him, her bare breasts smashed against his strong chest.
“Baldy?” His mouth quirked at the edges again, but his eyes didn’t hold the slightest hint of humor. Instead, they smoldered, boring into hers, telegraphing an invitation that was clearly sexual in nature.
“Do you prefer Big Baldy?”
“I prefer Frank,” he said.
“Well okay, Frank, but…I…uh…” Edna’s breath hitched and her words fled when Frank reached out and let one finger trail down the side of her corset. Idly, casually, he stroked her ribs and moved down toward the curve of her waist. Even with that simple touch, he conveyed a sense of ownership, and Edna had to admit that it felt right for him to touch her, to think of herself as his to do with what he would.
“Yes?” he prompted. His fingers curled possessively around her hip and pulled her a little closer. A few more inches and they would touch, and she would know if he was one-tenth as aroused as she was quickly becoming.
“I have a rule—if I know your name, I can’t play with you.”
“Okay, but what about me playing with you?” His fingers tightened, pressing into the flesh of her hip with enough force to hurt a little, and to make her pussy gush wet heat onto her already ruined panties.
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
Excerpt #1
This is from my latest story, The Man from H.A.T.H.O.R. now available from Phaze.
New York City, NY, Present Day
"Rise great Akhet-en. You are called forth to fulfill your duty."
Aki slapped at his alarm. It was too fucking early on a Saturday for it to be going off.
His bed shook.
Okay, not his alarm.
"Akhet-en, get your ass out of bed. Now."
Knowing pulling his pillow over his head would only enrage the goddess even more, he slid out from between the sheets.
"While I am enjoying the view, throw some clothes on. I've got a job for you."
He blinked at the gorgeous woman who graced his bedroom, dressed in nothing more than a transparent linen sheath, her breasts bared to the world. If it weren't for the fact she was one of the scariest women in his world, the sight of her might actually arouse him. "Remind me why you choose to speak like a New York City cabbie again."
She rolled her eyes and waved her hand. A fresh suit of grey gabardine appeared on his body. Yep, no snooze alarm for him.
He walked past her, out of his bedroom and into his kitchen. The morning light glistening off the Chrysler building tempted his gaze, but he didn't have time to leisurely watch the sunrise. If she wanted him coherent, he needed a coffee infusion now. Flipping on the automatic hot water faucet, he stuck his pre-measured cup underneath the flow.
She slinked in behind him and draped herself over a barstool. "Why won't you come live with us? You wouldn't have to make yourself coffee. It would be delivered to you in the finest gold."
Aki ignored her. The bitter brew of instant coffee coated his tongue and burned its way down his throat. The jolt woke him enough that he could turn the coffee maker on.
"And I don't know why you don't have one of those delicious little automatic espresso makers. You know that's what I love to drink."
A twitch started in the corner of his eye as it always did when she visited. Were it not for his blood oath to serve her, he'd have left for Osiris' kingdom an eternity ago.
"What do you want, Hathor? Besides espresso."
She sauntered over and trailed her fingers along his jaw. "Darling, can't I just visit you?"
"If you were just visiting, you wouldn't have done your 'I'm all powerful' show."
Hooking her arms around his neck, she pouted. "That hurts. But, you happen to be right in this case. I have this itsy-bitsy problem I need you to take care of."
He fought the temptation to roll his eyes. The last time she'd said that, the Hyksos were invading.
"What is it, Hathor?"
Silken skin slid against his neck as she turned away from him. "Well, remember how the cache of papyri was found at Deir el-Bahri?"
The recent archaeological find had made world headlines. Egyptology was the rage again, especially with the recent tour of Tut's funerary treasures.
Osiris save him from dilettantes. It's not like he could actually tell them what a little brat Tut was. Zahi Hawass might listen to him, but then Aki would have to erase his memory five minutes after he'd left the room, making the effort completely useless. Aki was not one for useless efforts.
"What about the papyri, Hathor?"
She grimaced a little. "One of the papyri just happens to be from Set's temple."
Aki felt one of his rare headaches brewing. "Just get to the point, Hathor."
"It's a copy of the Book of Sekhmet."
The headache exploded. "You promised me they had all been destroyed."
"I thought they were! How was I supposed to know Set had a copy?"
"Oh, maybe the fact you're all supposed to be omnipotent?"
Her eyes blazed and he knew he treaded a fine line. Few remembered that another aspect of the goddess of love was war. Hathor was the reason the phrase, "a thin line between love and hate," existed.
Energy pulsed around her, giving the illusion she'd doubled in size. Always a bad sign as to her temper. "Watch it Akhet-en."
He nodded, wanting to cradle his head. "Forgive me, goddess. The shock of your revelation loosened my tongue."
The air seemed to smooth around her and he felt the piercing pain behind his eyes receding. "You are forgiven. Unfortunately, this particular copy includes an additional spell from Set. If it is triggered, you will be bound to the woman for three days."
"What woman?"
"The beauty of the spell is it can be triggered by any woman. However, the papyri are with the leading archivist of Egyptian papyri, who also happens to be an expert translator. Her name is Doctor Eloisa Brown."
"Where is she?"
"Here in New York. She has her own lab upstate along the Hudson."
His brows rose at that. The woman came from money then. "How can she afford to outfit a lab along the Hudson? I'm surprised zoning allowances haven't shut her down."
"It's out of her home and her family sees it as an indulgence. They managed to ride the waves of all the major market crashes of the last three centuries and held on to their money. Lakshmi favors them, though they have no clue."
Aki took a sip of his coffee. The caffeine slammed through his system. "They rarely do. How much time do I have to contact her?"
"No more than a day or two. She's had the papyri for a month now."
"And you didn't tell me before this. Why?"
Her smile was weak. Very weak. Damn it.
"Well, you know Isis. She doesn't always share with me."
Aki shook his head. "Fine. I have some appointments that I need to rearrange and then I can go to this Doctor Brown."
"Oh, just a few more things, Aki."
He closed his eyes. He really, really did not want to hear this. "What?" Even he could hear the strained temper in his voice.
"If she triggers the spell, like I said, you'll be bound to her for three days only. In that time period you must grant the greatest pleasure her heart desires. However, if you don't, your soul will be cursed to wander without a home and never welcome in Osiris' hall. Were you to grant her desire she will have the option to bind you to her. Believe me, you want the latter option."
"What can be worse than not being welcome in Osiris' hall?" Aki felt sick at the thought. He'd always expected to find his way there when his service to Hathor ended. His friends, compatriots all waited, or would be, for him there.
Failure was not an option.
Introducing Kelly
I love deliciously naughty things, don't you? One deliciously naughty thing I'm doing is posting this from my full-time job...which isn't writing! I'll make this quick ;) I'm Kelly Maher and I've been published for almost a year now. My four currently available stories have homes at Phaze and Amber Heat. I love writing erotic fiction because it's just plain fun. My stories tend to have some kind of paranormal element to them, but I do try my hand at straight contemporaries and historicals every once in a while. I hope you have a great day and I'll be back after work to post an excerpt or two.
Monday, March 19, 2007
Introduction and an Excerpt
Hi, and welcome to my first post! *G* I'm thrilled with this new group and the energetic level with which we've kicked things off.
I'm Sherrill Quinn, and today I'd like to talk to you about old beginnings (as opposed to the post topic of last week). When I was 18, I went 700 miles away to college., thinking I was a big girl, thinking I could handle being away from my mommy. I went home the first Christmas, flush with the success of my first semester as an adult. One year later, I couldn't go home at Christmas time and...I cried like a baby the entire two weeks of the break. Every time I turned around, some flippin' radio station or another was playing "I'll Be Home For Christmas", and I'd start up all over again. It was the worst Christmas season of my life, and drove it home to me that I'd never be too grown up to miss my mom. LOL
Over the ensuing years I worked in Human Resources at a small personnel recruiting agency, then moved on to a large home nursing agency, then onto a still larger cable company. During that time I fiddled around with writing--a short story here and there, a couple of them published in now defunct magazines, plus I wrote non-fiction for professional newsletters. But I still lived very near my mom.
Which is why you may be confused that, at age 38, I moved 2000 miles away from home to live in Arizona. I talk to my mom every week, sometimes more than once (nearly every day for the first 2 months after my dad died), and I try to see her at least twice a year. But, saying all that, moving to Arizona was another beginning for me. I started a new job that led to a promotion that led to another promotion that brought me to the pinnacle of my Human Resources career--that of Vice President. Sounds like I finally made it, right? Well, I suppose I had. However, the 60+ hour workweeks and stress that goes along with being an executive (especially one in HR) started playing havoc with my physical health, not to mention my emotional well-being. So I determined to make a change.
Knowing one of the things (the biggest thing) keeping me in the job was my house, I sold it in February 2005 when the housing market in southern Arizona was crazy, and realized a decent profit. I rented a two-bedroom casita (it's adorable!) and, that same month, took an online "how to write erotic romance" class taught by Jan Springer. In April I submitted an entry in a contest and placed 2nd with a request for the full manuscript.
Hey! I might have finally found my niche. On September 1, 2005 I handed in my resignation (and was asked to leave pretty much right away--that's the way it's done there) and, having decided to take time off to recuperate from the grueling schedule and focus on developing my second career, I sat at home and wrote at least 8 hours a day for 11 months. In that time I wrote over 500,000 words, most of which ended up being published.
Phew!
In late July of last year I started back to work on a part-time basis. (Which had been my plan, just a month earlier than I'd anticipated.) My COBRA benefits were going to run out as of the end of February, so I knew the part-time would have to go to full-time sooner than later. The day before Thanksgiving, my boss (the HR Administrator) quit/was let go, and I was promoted to her position (which was full-time). The full-time status started the day after I returned from Ohio for my dad's funeral.
So, now I'm working 40 hours a week, with an hour commute every day, which takes away from my writing. But at least I have health insurance now, and the stress level on the job is so low (comparatively speaking) it's hardly worth mentioning. And I still have energy to write, which is the important thing!
Well, enough about me. I indicated in the title line that I'd give you an excerpt, and here it is. This is from my upcoming Ellora's Cave release (on Wednesday!)--Choosing Madison, in Seasons of Seduction Volume 1.
Gaelen Brecca and Leax Ilan are sent to retrieve their leader's errant bride. Because of the stubborness of the princess and an attack by enemy Raiders, they end up taking Earth woman Madison Marquette along as well. They are enchanted by her beauty, her bravery, and her wit. She might just be the woman these bond-brothers need to complete their triad.
Madison has lived an adventurous life...vicariously through the wild tales of her best friend, tales that Madison has turned into sci-fi romance novels. Grabbing onto the opportunity to truly have an adventure, she is stunned to find lust and love as well. She must overcome her natural tendency to look for safety.
Can her alien lovers secure her sensual surrender as well?
Madison dropped the baseball bat and looked around her living room. For a blazing battle having just taken place, it still looked remarkably neat. Well, except for the bodies lying around. Looking closely, she saw chests rising and falling with their slow breathing, and she sighed with relief. She hadn’t been sure how she’d explain a houseful of dead bodies to the authorities. Or her dad.
Her gaze met that of the auburn-haired man and she swallowed at the heat she saw in his eyes. She looked at the other man, Gaelen, and saw the same raw lust reflected in his gaze. Boy oh boy, these men were hot and making her hot. They had been so fierce in their battle, so competent in the way they’d handled their weapons. Plus there was just something about a man in a uniform…
Gaelen touched his collar and spoke. He motioned to Julie.
She grabbed Madison’s hand and pulled her over to where the two men stood. Gesturing to the men one at a time, she said, “Madison, meet Gaelen Brecca and Leax Ilan. Gaelen and Leax, my friend Madison.” She tittered with nervous laughter. “There. Introductions are made. May we please go? Now?”
Madison ended up standing in front of Leax. He wrapped one brawny arm around her waist and pulled her back against him. She glanced over her shoulder and caught his slow wink just as a tingling started in her extremities and quickly spread inward. Her eyes widened and she opened her mouth to cry out at the unfamiliar sensation.
In what seemed like one heartbeat to the next, she went from being in her house to standing in a small, round room. She felt dizzy and a bit flushed. A man stood nearby, a small implement in his hand that looked a lot like a syringe. He started toward her and she tried to back up. When she pressed against Leax’s big body, his hands came down on her shoulders and lightly squeezed. His deep voice murmured to her, words indistinguishable but the tones soft and gentle, calming.
She vaguely heard Julie telling her it was all right, that this was a doctor, but all she saw was a stranger heading toward her with a needle in his hand. “No probing!” she yelled.
Julie tried to soothe her. “It’s all right, Maddie. He’s just going to implant a translation device.”
Madison heard every word her friend said, but the one that stuck out was “implant”. She shook her head, then swayed as the movement aggravated her already spinning senses. Leax swept her up into his arms and the doctor moved in. Before she could do much more than blink, he’d gently inserted the tip of the syringe into her ear. She felt a small prick and wiggled her jaw against the resulting tickle.
“Do you understand me?” the doctor asked.
She nodded and touched one hand to her ear. She looked up at Leax. “You can put me down now.”
“But I enjoy holding you, little one,” he said. His voice was deep and soft, bringing to mind tangled limbs on silken sheets. Her nipples hardened and her breathing quickened as he glanced down. His arms briefly tightened, but he released her and let her slide to the floor. He kept one arm around her waist and held her against his body, letting her feel his arousal.
“Lee, why don’t you show our guest to her quarters?” Gaelen’s intense gaze rested on Madison for a moment before he held out his arm to Julie. “Princess, if you’ll allow me to escort you?”
Julie slipped her hand through the crook of his arm. As they stepped out of the room, she looked over her shoulder at Madison and winked. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” she said with a nod toward Leax.
Madison’s face heated and she scowled. She was more tempted by this big man—by both of them—than she cared to admit. There was something of the forbidden in having sex with a stranger, and Madison tried to stay away from things she wasn’t supposed to do.
Always being the good little soldier.
She supposed she could consider it research. Even as nervous about this situation as she was, she had to bite back a grin, sure neither man would appreciate her sense of humor at their expense.
Leax held his arm out to her, much the same as Gaelen had done for Julie, though Gaelen’s face hadn’t held such a wicked grin. Lust rolled off Leax in waves, helping alleviate most of her remaining anxiety. He was sinful temptation she just might not fight.
Copyright ©2007 Sherrill Quinn. All Rights Reserved.
Choosing Madison, part of Seasons of Seduction Volume 1 - available Wednesday, March 21st at Ellora's Cave!
5 Hearts from the Romance Studio! “Anyone who likes a quick, hot read will like this story. Madison, Gaelen and Leax are richly described and the sexual tension adds to the dynamics of this short read... The science fiction aspects of the story don't overwhelm the romantic side of it, but add to the reality of the situation. This erotic romp on the futuristic side is done very nicely.”
I'm Sherrill Quinn, and today I'd like to talk to you about old beginnings (as opposed to the post topic of last week). When I was 18, I went 700 miles away to college., thinking I was a big girl, thinking I could handle being away from my mommy. I went home the first Christmas, flush with the success of my first semester as an adult. One year later, I couldn't go home at Christmas time and...I cried like a baby the entire two weeks of the break. Every time I turned around, some flippin' radio station or another was playing "I'll Be Home For Christmas", and I'd start up all over again. It was the worst Christmas season of my life, and drove it home to me that I'd never be too grown up to miss my mom. LOL
Over the ensuing years I worked in Human Resources at a small personnel recruiting agency, then moved on to a large home nursing agency, then onto a still larger cable company. During that time I fiddled around with writing--a short story here and there, a couple of them published in now defunct magazines, plus I wrote non-fiction for professional newsletters. But I still lived very near my mom.
Which is why you may be confused that, at age 38, I moved 2000 miles away from home to live in Arizona. I talk to my mom every week, sometimes more than once (nearly every day for the first 2 months after my dad died), and I try to see her at least twice a year. But, saying all that, moving to Arizona was another beginning for me. I started a new job that led to a promotion that led to another promotion that brought me to the pinnacle of my Human Resources career--that of Vice President. Sounds like I finally made it, right? Well, I suppose I had. However, the 60+ hour workweeks and stress that goes along with being an executive (especially one in HR) started playing havoc with my physical health, not to mention my emotional well-being. So I determined to make a change.
Knowing one of the things (the biggest thing) keeping me in the job was my house, I sold it in February 2005 when the housing market in southern Arizona was crazy, and realized a decent profit. I rented a two-bedroom casita (it's adorable!) and, that same month, took an online "how to write erotic romance" class taught by Jan Springer. In April I submitted an entry in a contest and placed 2nd with a request for the full manuscript.
Hey! I might have finally found my niche. On September 1, 2005 I handed in my resignation (and was asked to leave pretty much right away--that's the way it's done there) and, having decided to take time off to recuperate from the grueling schedule and focus on developing my second career, I sat at home and wrote at least 8 hours a day for 11 months. In that time I wrote over 500,000 words, most of which ended up being published.
Phew!
In late July of last year I started back to work on a part-time basis. (Which had been my plan, just a month earlier than I'd anticipated.) My COBRA benefits were going to run out as of the end of February, so I knew the part-time would have to go to full-time sooner than later. The day before Thanksgiving, my boss (the HR Administrator) quit/was let go, and I was promoted to her position (which was full-time). The full-time status started the day after I returned from Ohio for my dad's funeral.
So, now I'm working 40 hours a week, with an hour commute every day, which takes away from my writing. But at least I have health insurance now, and the stress level on the job is so low (comparatively speaking) it's hardly worth mentioning. And I still have energy to write, which is the important thing!
Well, enough about me. I indicated in the title line that I'd give you an excerpt, and here it is. This is from my upcoming Ellora's Cave release (on Wednesday!)--Choosing Madison, in Seasons of Seduction Volume 1.
Gaelen Brecca and Leax Ilan are sent to retrieve their leader's errant bride. Because of the stubborness of the princess and an attack by enemy Raiders, they end up taking Earth woman Madison Marquette along as well. They are enchanted by her beauty, her bravery, and her wit. She might just be the woman these bond-brothers need to complete their triad.
Madison has lived an adventurous life...vicariously through the wild tales of her best friend, tales that Madison has turned into sci-fi romance novels. Grabbing onto the opportunity to truly have an adventure, she is stunned to find lust and love as well. She must overcome her natural tendency to look for safety.
Can her alien lovers secure her sensual surrender as well?
~ * ~
Madison dropped the baseball bat and looked around her living room. For a blazing battle having just taken place, it still looked remarkably neat. Well, except for the bodies lying around. Looking closely, she saw chests rising and falling with their slow breathing, and she sighed with relief. She hadn’t been sure how she’d explain a houseful of dead bodies to the authorities. Or her dad.
Her gaze met that of the auburn-haired man and she swallowed at the heat she saw in his eyes. She looked at the other man, Gaelen, and saw the same raw lust reflected in his gaze. Boy oh boy, these men were hot and making her hot. They had been so fierce in their battle, so competent in the way they’d handled their weapons. Plus there was just something about a man in a uniform…
Gaelen touched his collar and spoke. He motioned to Julie.
She grabbed Madison’s hand and pulled her over to where the two men stood. Gesturing to the men one at a time, she said, “Madison, meet Gaelen Brecca and Leax Ilan. Gaelen and Leax, my friend Madison.” She tittered with nervous laughter. “There. Introductions are made. May we please go? Now?”
Madison ended up standing in front of Leax. He wrapped one brawny arm around her waist and pulled her back against him. She glanced over her shoulder and caught his slow wink just as a tingling started in her extremities and quickly spread inward. Her eyes widened and she opened her mouth to cry out at the unfamiliar sensation.
In what seemed like one heartbeat to the next, she went from being in her house to standing in a small, round room. She felt dizzy and a bit flushed. A man stood nearby, a small implement in his hand that looked a lot like a syringe. He started toward her and she tried to back up. When she pressed against Leax’s big body, his hands came down on her shoulders and lightly squeezed. His deep voice murmured to her, words indistinguishable but the tones soft and gentle, calming.
She vaguely heard Julie telling her it was all right, that this was a doctor, but all she saw was a stranger heading toward her with a needle in his hand. “No probing!” she yelled.
Julie tried to soothe her. “It’s all right, Maddie. He’s just going to implant a translation device.”
Madison heard every word her friend said, but the one that stuck out was “implant”. She shook her head, then swayed as the movement aggravated her already spinning senses. Leax swept her up into his arms and the doctor moved in. Before she could do much more than blink, he’d gently inserted the tip of the syringe into her ear. She felt a small prick and wiggled her jaw against the resulting tickle.
“Do you understand me?” the doctor asked.
She nodded and touched one hand to her ear. She looked up at Leax. “You can put me down now.”
“But I enjoy holding you, little one,” he said. His voice was deep and soft, bringing to mind tangled limbs on silken sheets. Her nipples hardened and her breathing quickened as he glanced down. His arms briefly tightened, but he released her and let her slide to the floor. He kept one arm around her waist and held her against his body, letting her feel his arousal.
“Lee, why don’t you show our guest to her quarters?” Gaelen’s intense gaze rested on Madison for a moment before he held out his arm to Julie. “Princess, if you’ll allow me to escort you?”
Julie slipped her hand through the crook of his arm. As they stepped out of the room, she looked over her shoulder at Madison and winked. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” she said with a nod toward Leax.
Madison’s face heated and she scowled. She was more tempted by this big man—by both of them—than she cared to admit. There was something of the forbidden in having sex with a stranger, and Madison tried to stay away from things she wasn’t supposed to do.
Always being the good little soldier.
She supposed she could consider it research. Even as nervous about this situation as she was, she had to bite back a grin, sure neither man would appreciate her sense of humor at their expense.
Leax held his arm out to her, much the same as Gaelen had done for Julie, though Gaelen’s face hadn’t held such a wicked grin. Lust rolled off Leax in waves, helping alleviate most of her remaining anxiety. He was sinful temptation she just might not fight.
Copyright ©2007 Sherrill Quinn. All Rights Reserved.
Choosing Madison, part of Seasons of Seduction Volume 1 - available Wednesday, March 21st at Ellora's Cave!
5 Hearts from the Romance Studio! “Anyone who likes a quick, hot read will like this story. Madison, Gaelen and Leax are richly described and the sexual tension adds to the dynamics of this short read... The science fiction aspects of the story don't overwhelm the romantic side of it, but add to the reality of the situation. This erotic romp on the futuristic side is done very nicely.”
Sherrill Quinn
Follow your passion to the edge...and beyond
Website | Blog | MySpace | Follow Your Passion | Passion's Edge
Follow your passion to the edge...and beyond
Website | Blog | MySpace | Follow Your Passion | Passion's Edge
Friday, March 16, 2007
New Beginnings
(Yes, if you haven't figured it out yet--which of course you have, you clever little thing--this week's topic is New Beginnings. We Deliciously Naughty Writers plan to express our opinions on one topic each week, with each of us chiming in on a different day. We thought that might help you to get to know us all better, and thought it would help us do the same! (If there's a topic you'd like to see discussed, please shoot me an email--you can contact me through my blogger profile or my website.)
So here at Deliciously Naughty--or should we say, "The DN" for short? That sounds kinda cool, huh?--it's time to discuss New Beginnings.
Can you tell I'm having a hard time coming up with something to say about new beginnings? Silly, really, considering it seems such an easy topic, especially when spring is finally starting to peek its pinky-gold head over the hills here in the southwest of England. Daffodils are blooming, the trees are getting that greenish cast they get just before the leaves return, the lambs are being born and we get to see them every morning as we drive past the many farms...the temperature has risen above 5C (about 42F) which means the English are outside in t-shirts.
So spring is the time of new beginnngs, definitely. I should be able to think of a million different variations on the theme. Spring is here. We've started Deliciously Naughty Writers, which is so exciting, and I get to do more fun stuff with Sherrill, Anna, kelly, and Sierra. I've got a couple of new projects I'm working on which is even more exciting!
Okay, here we go, I've got something. Something else that seems to be experiencing a New Beginning, a bit of a renaissance.
The turned-up collar on guys.
What is up with that? I can't decide if I like it or not.
On the one hand, it reminds me of my beloved '80s. The '80s were so cool, people. So much better than the '90s. The music was better (yes it was! I dare you to put stuff like "Jenny(867-5309)" or "And We Danced" against, say, C+C Music Factory of the New Kids on the Block. Hey, Marky Mark, doesn't matter how many Oscars you get nominated for, or how many big prosthetic peenies" you have attached (and sorry, ladies--no, that's not a picture of said big peenie, I hunted for half an hour online and couldn't find a picture. So go watch the movie [Boogie Nights] because it's an excellent film anyway), we all still remember that "Good Vibrations" video and you doing that horrible lip-licking thing with the bandanna tied around your head, and your (admittedly fantastic) chest all exposed.
We remember. Oh, yes.
Just like we remember when the collar-up guys were big old preppies with feathered hair.
So what do you think, ladies? Do we like the collar-up man? Happy about spring (is it spring yet where you are?) Any new spring beginnings for you? Thoughts on Marky Mark or the Boogie Nights peen?
Share, share, share!
So here at Deliciously Naughty--or should we say, "The DN" for short? That sounds kinda cool, huh?--it's time to discuss New Beginnings.
Can you tell I'm having a hard time coming up with something to say about new beginnings? Silly, really, considering it seems such an easy topic, especially when spring is finally starting to peek its pinky-gold head over the hills here in the southwest of England. Daffodils are blooming, the trees are getting that greenish cast they get just before the leaves return, the lambs are being born and we get to see them every morning as we drive past the many farms...the temperature has risen above 5C (about 42F) which means the English are outside in t-shirts.
So spring is the time of new beginnngs, definitely. I should be able to think of a million different variations on the theme. Spring is here. We've started Deliciously Naughty Writers, which is so exciting, and I get to do more fun stuff with Sherrill, Anna, kelly, and Sierra. I've got a couple of new projects I'm working on which is even more exciting!
Okay, here we go, I've got something. Something else that seems to be experiencing a New Beginning, a bit of a renaissance.
The turned-up collar on guys.
What is up with that? I can't decide if I like it or not.
On the one hand, it reminds me of my beloved '80s. The '80s were so cool, people. So much better than the '90s. The music was better (yes it was! I dare you to put stuff like "Jenny(867-5309)" or "And We Danced" against, say, C+C Music Factory of the New Kids on the Block. Hey, Marky Mark, doesn't matter how many Oscars you get nominated for, or how many big prosthetic peenies" you have attached (and sorry, ladies--no, that's not a picture of said big peenie, I hunted for half an hour online and couldn't find a picture. So go watch the movie [Boogie Nights] because it's an excellent film anyway), we all still remember that "Good Vibrations" video and you doing that horrible lip-licking thing with the bandanna tied around your head, and your (admittedly fantastic) chest all exposed.
We remember. Oh, yes.
Just like we remember when the collar-up guys were big old preppies with feathered hair.
So what do you think, ladies? Do we like the collar-up man? Happy about spring (is it spring yet where you are?) Any new spring beginnings for you? Thoughts on Marky Mark or the Boogie Nights peen?
Share, share, share!
Thursday, March 15, 2007
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
New Beginnings: New March Resolutions
This guy looks like he's looking forward to the future with a happy heart. That's the only reason I chose this picture of course...it had nothing to do with the fact that he's totally yummy, lol.
For those of you who don't know me, I'm Anna J. Evans. I write for Ellora's Cave, Liquid Silver books, Whiskey Creek Torrid, Lady Aibell Publishing, and have several other irons in the fire. I started writing erotic romance in early 2005 and have, since then, sold almost twenty shorts, novellas, and novels. I also cowrite with the lovely December Quinn--another deliciously naughty writer--and our first Ellora's Cave menage As the Lady Wishes will be out in 07. I can't imagine anything I'd rather do than sit down at the computer and make words everyday, so thanks so much to my readers!
For those of you who do know me and were with us when we were the Indulge Authors, I'd like to thank you for continuing on the next stage of our journey with us. We've all grown as writers, as friends, and as like-minded people and are excited to share our love of good books with each other and all of you. Though it's a little sad to see Indulge end, I couldn't be more excited about the Deliciously Naughty Writers!
We've already had such fun organizing this change, I know the coming years are going to be a blast. I'm certainly committed to having more fun in 2007 and beyond. Which brings me to the second part of this blog: New March resolutions.
How many of you have...lapsed in your January resolutions? Come on, fess up! Lol.
I have...miserably, which has inspired me to get more realistic and to start fresh this spring with some New March Resolutions: the Do-Over you always wanted after two months of failed diets and being just as grouchy with your loved ones as you always were.
So here are mine:
1. Have more fun.
2. Eat more ice-cream, the full fat kind with chunky things in it.
3. Take more baths because why stand up when you can sit?
4. Hire someone else to paint my toenails when I can afford it.
5. Take long walks (or sometimes short walks) with the kids after school. Let them have their after school snack picnic style.
6. Introduce some flexibility into my discipline.
7. Dress up for no reason at all.
8. Get a funky hair cut and forget what I'm 'supposed' to look like as a suburban mummy.
9. Take everything less seriously including sick kids, life changes, and the fit of my jeans.
Your turn! God any New March Resolutions? If so, I'd love to hear them :).
Hugs, Love and Laughter Always, and thanks for joining us!
Anna J. Evans
http:///laughoutloudsexy.com
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