Wednesday, December 29, 2010
“Some of our hottest selling books are coming from indies,” said Lori James. “More importantly, the change in policy is in response to author and reader requests.”
More and more authors are choosing to self publish these days but finding third party distribution is difficult when faced with the fact that a minimum number of books are required in order to sell from a particular site. ARe's move to discontinue their minimum requirement has some authors talking already.
What will the influx of self pubbed authors with only one or two books do to sales overall? Some authors worry that it will dilute the sales pool yet again--just like every time another pub opens. Others worry about quality of books. My advice there is to simply look for the publisher and stick with the tried and true.
And that doesn't mean there aren't some really good quality books that are self pubbed. But overall? I suspect we'll see lots of authors publishing just because they now have a venue for distribution when they were rejected by publishers.
Also to be considered is the argument that e books lack quality in general. No, that's not so, but let's face it--not all authors, editors, and publishers were created equally and there is definitely a difference in quality from house to house. So with the potential flood of self pubbed authors invading what does that do to the e book industry overall?
Digital publishing is still growing and quality will be the deciding factors with buyers. To stand the test of time and to convince Jane and John Does to stay with e books is this a good move?
Lots to think about for sure.
Friday, December 17, 2010
Our Cover Price: $5.20
When ex-soldier Poussé receives an unexpected job offer from the mysterious Waterloo Group, she doesn’t question the providential timing. Twelve hours later she wishes she had, when she’s captured by two sexy blue-skinned warriors—Jonson and Mali of Mystic Valley.
“Pussy, get your ass flat before somebody shoots it off!” George, the team leader’s, voice roared in her headset.
Poussé promptly dropped her ample backside as she scrambled behind a bush with forlorn blue leaves. In vain, she peered through the nearly bare branches for any sign of the rest of her team members. One minute the team was bunched together, the next she was alone in a surreal wilderness of bright red pines and purple-leaved trees with black glittering bark. Cradling her rifle in her arms, she elbowed deeper in a tangled clump of bushes, praying that none of the strange plants were poisonous, as she speculated about the clusterfuck her team was engaged in. Admittedly, she was new to the team and had little experience with their missions, but it didn’t take a genius to figure this operation was a disaster in progress.
From the start, the mission was a farce. The team was composed of mostly misfits and newbies. Their equipment was minimal. At midnight, they all piled in the back of a truck and rode through the night to a wide spot in the road at the foot of a mountain where their driver dumped them without a word. Then they hiked four hours up the mountain until they reached a narrow icy cave where an old man with cold scary eyes waited with two prisoners.
In Poussé’s opinion, the prisoners were stranger than the old man. One man with wild curly blond hair was dressed in faded hospital scrubs that had seen better days, and battered sneakers. The other man was bald and wore some vaguely Middle Eastern garb with sandals. Neither man wore a coat. Then the old man informed the team they were going to invade a secret valley in search of terrorists.
Poussé couldn’t think of any reason they needed hostages if that was the case, but she prudently kept her mouth shut. Though this was surely a clusterfuck if she’d ever seen one, she desperately wanted to remain a team member. This was her last chance. If she screwed this up, she would lose her job, her apartment and car, and have to move back in with her mother or start peddling her ass on the street like her cousin Kisha. She was ambivalent about which would be the worst outcome.
The team silently followed the old man into a slick surfaced tunnel that snaked around for what seemed like miles before finally ending in another tiny cave with a noisy waterfall across the entrance. After a brief rest, the old man started talking. “My name is Llewellyn. We are here to find a very important book. It must be recovered at all cost. You will allow nothing to stand in your way. Shoot anyone who offers resistance.”
She remembered the appalled silence that fell over the team members. Then Rick, the team leader, objected, “We can’t do that! We are not a sanctioned black ops team!”
Llewellyn pulled his own gun and promptly shot Rick between the eyes. “Any other objections?” he inquired as he reholstered his weapon. “No? Then I suggest you get on with the mission.”
Terrified and sullen, the team scouted the area, discovering a faint trail from the cave that led to a grassy circle next to a clear deep pool. Across the lush lawn a spooky stone circle guarded a massive altar stone in its center. Poussé shivered as she recalled that circle and the chills that shuddered up her spine when she brushed against one of the stones that were deeply engraved with intricate spirals and squares. It felt as though an ancient intelligence permeated the circle, safeguarding the altar within.
Her thoughts were jerked back to the present by the crack of rifle fire on her left, followed by a high cry. She shivered in the bitter cold wind, shocked by the change from the muggy heat outside the valley. Acrid sweat trickled from beneath her cap down her face, freezing on her cheeks. She shifted a few inches to her right, peeking past a thick tree trunk that was blocking her line of sight. Nothing. Where the hell was the rest of the team? There hadn’t been a peep since George, who had taken Rick’s place, had yelled at her.
Abruptly, a heavy weight dropped on her back, squashing her flat in the dirt and leaves beneath her. A razor-sharp point pressed in the tender skin just below her jaw.
“Place your hands on the ground above your head,” a deep voice murmured in her ear. A rash of goose bumps pebbled her neck when his warm breath washed over her cold skin.
Poussé mentally shuffled through several options as she muttered, “Yeah, yeah. Give me a minute here. You’re squashing me.” The man was too heavy for her to dislodge and his position, sitting squarely on the center of her spine, left her with no leverage to work with.
He knocked her snug cap to the side. With one hand twisted in her shocking blue Mohawk and the other one still pressing the knife tip to her neck, he scooted down until he was seated on her butt.
“Move. Toss the weapon away too.”
Just for a second she considered trying to turn beneath him, but decided the risk of a slit throat was more than she was willing to bargain. Pissed off at the way he had captured her, she shoved her rifle away and stretched out her arms above her head.
With swift, blurred movements, he yanked her hands down and cuffed her wrists, winding some furry material around them and knotting it. When she lifted her head up, trying to look over her shoulder at her captor, he shoved her head back down, shifting so his body was stretched over hers from head to toe.
Her cheek was ground into the dead leaves and dirt and the scent of decaying plants tickled her nose. She clenched her teeth, desperately fighting the urge to sneeze. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“Protecting you, woman.”
“Protecting me? Are you crazy? Get off me and give me back my rifle! Achoo!” The sneeze exploded with such violence her face slammed into the ground, with her nose taking the brunt.
Her eyes watered as searing pain spread across her cheeks but before she had time to complain, she was distracted by the unmistakable pressure of his hard cock pressing against her ass. “Listen, buddy. I’m not interested in that kind of action,” she protested, suddenly wriggling fiercely as she tried to throw him off.
A spicy unfamiliar scent drifted past her nose when he nipped her ear with his teeth. “Then be still or I might get the idea that you are interested. I find your ass very attractive.”
She froze, barely breathing, snuffling softly through the trickle of blood that dribbled from her nose.
He leaned forward, his cock pressing harder in the crevice between her legs as his heavy muscled chest flattened her on the ground. With a low grunt, he reached for the rifle.
Her heart stopped and stuttered before racing into a pounding gallop. The hand that touched the rifle was blue. Not tattooed. Not blue-tinged, but blue. Slowly her gaze moved up the muscular arm attached to the strange hand. Blue. Unmistakably blue. What kind of alien had captured her?
“What is this place?” She whimpered breathlessly.
A shrill whistle came from the right and he leaped to his feet, easily hauling her up by one arm to face him. “Welcome to
Risking a serious crick in her neck, Poussé looked up at the strange male towering over her. She beheld a warrior straight from a fantasy, barbaric and terrifying. Delicately pointed ears peeked through the curtain of narrow shining black braids that streamed down over powerful shoulders covered by a creamy sleeveless woolen wrapped shirt. His bared biceps were tattooed with black stylized running antelopes and his cobalt blue eyes tilted up, reminding her of a great cat. A beguiling smile curved his soft lips—beguiling until she noticed the sharp fangs. Her body shook under the firm pressure of his huge hand on her shoulder.
“Ah, none of that,” he said sternly. “Surely you are not afraid? A woman warrior?”
“What are you?” Her voice trembled even while she completed her rapid survey of the warrior before her. Strong thighs flexed beneath the dark green plain kilt that did nothing to hide his blatant erection. Laces from his short soft boots wound up his legs until they reached the four knives with elaborate ornamental handles, sheathed two on each calf. This was no play warrior, but the real deal. “What are you?” she repeated.
“I am a warrior and guardian in the valley. And you are my prisoner. Come.” Guiding her with one hand on her shoulder, he led her out of the woods. As they walked along the bank of a wide river, she jerked away, racing down the path. He might have her rifle, but she wasn’t completely unarmed. All she had to do was escape. As she pounded head-long around a clump of bushes, she barreled straight into another tall blue-skinned man waiting next to a stone bench.
“What have we here, Jonson?” he inquired as he wrapped a muscular arm around her waist.
She turned and twisted, trying to break free. Were all of the men here giants, she wondered? “Let me go!”
“She’s one of the intruders,” Jonson replied dryly as he easily plucked her from the man and handed her rifle to him in exchange. “She was creeping through the brush behind the school.”
“Really.” The man inspected her rifle, rested it against his shoulder and inquired, “What is your name?”
A smile tugged at the second man’s lips. “Indeed. Pussy Midnight. What kind of name is that?”
She ground her teeth in outrage. “Poo-say! Not pussy.” She scowled at the men. “Where is the rest of my team?”
“Most of them have been captured and are on their way to a holding at
“I don’t think so. I know my rights,” she stormed. “I demand you return me to my team.”
“You’re in the valley now. You must abide by our laws.” He patted the rifle and shot her a sly grin. “Possession of such a weapon is forbidden.”
“What?” Poussé stiffened in outrage. “I want to speak to the person in charge!”
“That’s not possible at the moment. You will have to deal with me.”
“Who the hell are you?”
“And you’re not exactly in charge, right?”
“For now, in this situation, I am in charge. Merlyn Llewellyn, clan chief of Lost Market, is very busy.”
She was suddenly light-headed as the blood drained from her brain. “Llewellyn? That’s not possible.”
Something or someone crashed through the woods behind them.
Gripping Poussé’s arm, Jonson tugged her along the path, away from
“I was wondering if you’ll be able to manage the young lady all by yourself!” Poussé stared over her shoulder at the mocking stranger. A gentle smile played across
“No.” Jonson straightened up and moved on, but he looked over his shoulder, meeting
“I’m counting on it. Now take her away. Llyon will arrive shortly to check her injuries. Try to take better care of her in the meantime.”
Jonson gestured toward the path that wound past a high cliff jutting out nearly into the river. “This way, woman.”
“Hey! Give my weapon back,” Poussé objected while she watched the path they were taking, trying to absorb as much of their surroundings as possible. She intended to make her way back the cave where they entered the valley as soon as possible.
“It will be safe with
Stubbornly, she refused to ask him to slow down. The path curved away from the river, crossing a wide meadow. Uneasily, she searched the area around them in vain for signs of civilization. Then she sighted the solitary stone house on the rocky bench above a glassy gray lake. “Slow down, dammit! You might have legs like a giraffe, but I don’t!”
“Giraffe?” he questioned absently as he tugged her toward the stone steps. “Is that some out-valley animal?”
“Where you came from,” he clarified, gesturing vaguely toward the surrounding cliffs. “I have heard there are many strange animals there.”
“Yeah. It’s a tall skinny animal with spots and a neck that’s almost as long as its legs. And by the way, you’re a lot uglier than it is.” When they reached the little house she dug in her heels again. “I’m not going in there,” she declared flatly.
“I don’t trust you.” One moment she was standing in front of him, mulishly refusing to move. The next she was upside down, slung over his shoulder, her head bouncing against the woolie vest covering his broad back while he strode impatiently up the rough steps. “Uh, Jonson?”
“I’m gonna kill you when I get these cuffs off.”
“You are free to try.” He smacked her curvy butt when she tried to wriggle free. “Be still.”
“Put me down!”
“I don’t wish to. This is much quicker.” He fiddled with the latch before shoving the door open.
She tilted her head sideways, trying to catch a glimpse at their surroundings. Mostly what caught her eye was the enticing way his firm ass moved beneath the loose fabric of his kilt. She had to admit that the man was built. Seriously built. That didn’t mean she wasn’t going to kill him. She would just have a few lingering regrets. That’s all. “Ya know if you wanted to kill me, you didn’t have to drag me this far away. The woods would have done just fine.”
“Why would I kill you? That would be a waste of female potential. No, it would be much better to keep you busy having my babies.” He emphasized his point by gently massaging her firm bottom.
“Get your hands off me!”
“You’re not moving like a woman who wants to be left alone.”
Immediately, she stilled, barely breathing. Jonson set her carefully on her feet and stepped back. She lost no time in bringing her knee up toward his crotch.
He avoided the knee, but not the hard boot that she brought back down squarely on his toes. Correctly assessing her plans for escape, he tripped her as she leaped past him, taking her to the floor where he rolled her onto her stomach and sat on her butt while he removed his boot and knives, gingerly checking his abused toes for damage.
“Son of a bitch! Get off me!”
“I am not a fool!” he snarled as he cradled his screaming toes in his hand. “You’ve done enough damage for now.” His toes burning, Jonson cautiously touched them, checking for fractures. When she nearly unseated him again, he grabbed her nearest ankle and set to work on the boot laces. She wasn’t going to need shoes while she was in the cottage, anyway. By the time he removed both boots and socks, he felt like he’d been fighting a nest of grimahrs.
He eyed the laces in the boots, then with a brisk nod, he swiftly pulled them loose. In a few moments he was in the possession of two strong lengths of cord. Some slick moves and determination were required but shortly, he sat back and surveyed his captive with deep satisfaction. Her feet were secured to the bottom of the heavy corner post that supported the foot of the high bed in the outer room and her wrists, stretched over her head, were fastened to the bottom of the other corner post.
Poussé was screaming loud enough for them to hear her in
“Like what?” she sneered. “You think I’m afraid of you just because I’m a girl?”
Jonson got to his feet and hobbled to the table and chairs situated in front of the empty hearth. Jerking a chair out, he sat down and thoughtfully stared at his captive while he shrugged off his woolie shera, absently noting the bloody smears on the back from her nosebleed. Thanks to
From the moment he put his hands on her, he’d determined to claim her as bond mate for
First he had to eliminate her chances for a successful escape. After that he could worry about convincing her to take the vows with
Fangs glinting with wicked anticipation, he stood up, immediately capturing her attention. Poussé swallowed hard.
Jonson saw the way that fear tightened her muscles, but she’d already demonstrated her willingness to do almost anything to escape. Though she believed she was tough there were dangers in the wild parts of the valley that she was unaware of—dangers that could lead to her death in an instant. With an inward sigh, he approached his captive, rolled her onto her belly and slit her shirt up the back. He zipped the sharp flicknife down the outer seams on her pants and stood up. With two jerks she was undressed, leaving her in a soft gray garment that covered her breasts and another that covered her pussy and generous bottom.
She had closed her eyes at the first rending of fabric and now lay still on the floor. Jonson pressed his lips together in thought. After a moment, he undid the cords knotted around the bedposts, lifted her up and tossed her onto the high bed. She was moving before she landed, but he anticipated her moves this time by leaping on the bed with her.
Sprawled across her body, his heavy muscles pinned her in place. He captured her cuffed wrists and stretched her arms out above her head where he refastened the cuffs to a metal ring embedded in the heavy headboard. With a tired sigh, he rolled from the bed, gathered up her shredded clothing and limped over to the chair by the fire.
Keenly aware she watched in horror, he went through all the pockets, easily discovering the hidden weapons. Ignoring her frenzied attempts to escape the cord tied around her wrists, he built a fire in the hearth with slow deliberation. When a healthy blaze flickered from the small logs, he fed her clothing to the fire, one piece at a time until it was nothing but a pile of embers.
As he finished stirring the ashes to make sure there was nothing left, a soft knock at the door heralded the arrival of a visitor. Jonson hobbled to the door and admitted a man with long fiery red braids. “Llyon! Any news?”
“The invaders are all captured. I am here to check your prisoner.” Llyon’s eyebrows shot up when he took in the woman tied to the bed. “Trouble?”
Jonson snorted in disgust. “Check my toes and then ask me that again. She’s completely uncivilized. What do they do to their females out-valley?”
Llyon studied Jonson’s swollen toes, then knelt to check them for fractures. Jonson breathed shallowly as he felt the warm tingling of a healer plying his talent. In a few moments, the pain was gone. When Llyon finished, he stood up and stretched before approaching the bed. After a brief visual check of her obvious injuries, he smiled reassuringly. “I will examine you,” he calmly explained. “I can do so while you are awake. Or I can put you to sleep. Which do you prefer?”
“If you touch me, I will kill you.”
“Ah? Asleep then.” When he reached out to touch her, she snarled at him, lunging against her bonds, snapping her teeth at him. Adroitly, he avoided her attack, touching her lightly on her forehead, and seconds later she dropped into a sound sleep.
Our Cover Price: $5.95
One hundred grand to babysit bad boy Logan “Phoenix” Taylor on a paradise island—seriously, how bad could he be?
Frankly, it didn’t matter. Not when it would make my dreams of going to nursing school possible. I wasn’t even expected to talk to him, just hang out in a luxurious villa on a private beach and study. Simple, right?
But I hadn’t counted on Logan being so deliciously bad that he was oh so good. And when the temperature cranked to boiling point, he knew just how to satisfy the deepest, darkest part of my soul and give my body exactly what it needed. Amongst the sand and waves, we transported each other to an exquisite world of pleasure where only we existed, only we mattered.
But the heady mix of emotions and lust couldn’t keep things from spiraling out of control back in reality, where I had to keep the secret that I’d been hired to entertain him…even if it shattered my delicate heart. Even if it cost my destiny.
A palm tree overhead creaked ominously and I scurried closer into his side, wrapping my other hand around his thick biceps as I glanced upward.
“It’s okay,” he said, releasing my hand and circling my waist with his arm. “It won’t fall on you.” He dragged me against his body, urging me more quickly through the sand.
I found myself taking two paces to his one and within minutes we were climbing onto the deck. Shifting sand danced around the table and chair legs. The pillows and cushions from the bed had rolled to the floor and were tumbling about in the golden dust and lodging in leaves and branches. The parasol clattered against the table, the pole lifting up from the floor and threatening to take off into the sky.
“You grab the cushions,” Logan called over the noise of the flapping shrubbery. “I’ll anchor down the parasol.”
Unlocking the door to the living area, I grabbed three pillows and chucked them inside. I went back for the other three then tumbled in, half shutting the door behind myself. My hair was wild, my cheeks stung and my heart pounded as I caught my breath.
I watched Logan close the umbrella and secure the pole into place. He glanced around, shading his eyes with his hand, checking for anything else that might blow away, then headed my way with a train of dry, flat leaves skittering past his feet. I opened the door wide to let him through. He stepped in, still squinting against the dust, as I pushed the door shut with a loud click. The world went silent. After the howling wind and the roaring sea, the quiet of the house was acute and heavy and fell around us like a dense cloak.
Leaning back against the door, I pulled in a deep breath. “Made it,” I gasped.
“Yeah,” he said, stepping up close—real close.
When I looked up, his cheeks were stained red, several grains of sand hung in his long lashes and his hair was tousled and dusted with gold. “Is that everything tied down?” I asked, trying to ignore my breasts heaving against my halter-top.
“Well, almost everything,” he said with a decidedly carnal grin.
I swallowed and flattened my palms against the cool glass door behind me. “What else do you need to tie down?”
The right side of his mouth creased upward and his brows gave the tiniest of twitches. “I’d quite like to tie you down,” he said, his gaze coming to rest on my mouth. “To the bed.”
Licking my lips, I tasted salt. My stomach knotted as excitement, anticipation and sin collided in a delicious tangle.
“But I guess that’s moving a bit fast,” he murmured, bending his head lower. “We only just met.”
“A bit fast for me,” I agreed, absorbing the burning heat from his body as it radiated against mine.
“Brooke.” He raised one hand and rested it against the wooden doorframe by my left ear. His body moved in closer still. The gorgeous spiced aftershave he wore invaded my nostrils and settled not just on my tongue but somewhere else deep inside me. “Do you remember when you walked out of the water yesterday?” he asked in a low, rumbling voice.
“Yes.” How could I forget the toe-curling embarrassment? He’d stared silently toward me as I’d ambled up the beach, trying desperately to look cool and unflustered. I felt my cheeks warming further at the memory as my stomach twisted.
“It was a million times better than any Bond movie.”
“Hell, yeah. If they had you as a Bond girl it would be my favorite film by miles. Not just 007, but in general, any film ever.” His mouth slid upward in a grin. “You just about blew my mind.”
“I did?” My eyes widened in surprise. He’d liked what he’d seen, and I thought he’d been unimpressed with my curvy attributes.
“Oh, yeah, and other parts of my anatomy.”
He ducked his head, his lips a whisper from mine. I could almost taste the salt on his mouth.
“Well, we wouldn’t want that would we, Logan?” I murmured.
“Wouldn’t we?” His brows raised.
“Sounds painful.” I swallowed, my throat felt tight.
“It’s already getting painful.” He shifted his weight to the other foot. We were so close now my breast brushed against his chest and my nipples, which had tightened to hard pinched peaks, scraped against him.
I reached up to touch his jaw, his bristles catching on my fingertips. Our gazes connected and I rose onto the balls of my feet and pressed my mouth to his.
He opened up and took immediate control of the kiss. He tasted so good—man and ocean, wind and sun—he tasted of everything I was missing in my life and had been for so long. My hands moved to his shoulders and squeezed hard muscles through his soft cotton shirt. The tip of his tongue probed farther into my mouth, shooting desire into every fiber I possessed. My tongue searched for his and began to explore his mouth.
Logan groaned and let go of the doorframe, cradling the base of my skull in his palm and winding his other arm around my waist. He pulled me close and as the length of our bodies touched, right in the very center of my abdomen, he pressed his steely erection forward. He was right, he was painfully hard.
“Damn, you taste good,” he murmured, trailing a gentle kiss across my cheek.
I tipped my head back and let him explore the base of my ear, the angle of my jaw and the hollow of my throat. “I taste like salt,” I said.
“You taste of the beach and flowers and coconut,” he whispered between kisses. “The most delicious combination of flavors I’ve ever experienced.” He pulled back slightly, slipping his fingertips under the shoulders of my cardigan and easing it down my arms. It fell to the floor and he slid his palms back up over my elbows to the base of my neck. Each tiny section of flesh he touched came alive with sensation and pricked with greedy little goose bumps searching out his caress. I found his mouth again and ran my fingers into the collar-length hair at the nape of his neck. I pulled his head to mine harder. I wanted more. Much more.
His big fingers were busy, fiddling with the knot at the back of my halter-top. It was cleverly designed with a fitted bra, it had cost a fortune but was well worth it. I felt it slipping free and pulled back from the kiss, crossing my arm over my chest and gripping my opposite shoulder to hold it in place.
“What’s the matter?” Logan asked, his eyes heavy with desire and his voice thick with lust.
“I’m…I’m big,” I said in a rush then felt silly for saying something so insecure and obvious.
“Me too,” he said, a provocative grin playing on his mouth. “Relax, Brooke, it’s all good, trust me.”
Monday, December 13, 2010
A while ago someone forwarded some information to me in which it was stated that several authors were having their books removed by Amazon due to having an incest theme. I followed the link I was given and discovered that some of those books may also have some issues with the age of consent as well.
It seems that Amazon also wiped these books clean from Kindles as well. And for that--Amazon should refund every dime. That's a given right there.
Now for the tricky part. Do I do what this forwarded email asks everyone to do---contact the head of Amazon and the board of directors in protest or simply let Amazon have at it. I mean, hell, I'd never read one of those books. Does the author have the right to write them? You bet. Does the author have the right to offer them for sale? You bet.
Does the author have the right to dictate to Amazon that it must sell their book? No. Amazon has the right to refuse service. And those authors and their readers have the right to never purchase another book from Amazon.
So, on the one hand I support those authors and their right to create the books they choose. I also support the readers decision to read whatever material they like. But at the same time, I can't support forcing a company to sell anything they don't want to sell. Does that support book banning? No, it doesn't. Just as you stop into one store and find adult magazines for sale, you might stop into another store and notice none there.
We're dealing with a business here, not a public library or school.
You always hear "It's a free country." Well, yeah, to an extent. You're free and your actions are unrestricted as long as you don't infringe upon anyone else's rights.
Amazon should have stricter content guidelines. And Amazon should ban all books with illegal content if that is what this is all about and not just pick and choose. I'm still not really clear on the why of it as the authors in question say they've been given no specific reason at this time--other than the fact that Amazon reserves the right to decide. And that IS their right.
So what do we do, people? Storm the gates of Amazon and tell them we're never going to buy another book from them if they don't sell these books? And if we do, are we saying that there could never be a case of a book going too far? Is the saying "Any book worth banning is a book worth reading" really true? What's your opinion on all this?
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Having yet another contest at Love Romances Cafe. This time I'm giving away a pair of chandelier-styled earrings. They are very festive and sparkle like mad. Very nice to wear this time of year for sure. http://groups.yahoo.com/group/loveromancescafe
To enter simply reply to the post on Love Romances Cafe with ADD SOME SPARKLE CONTEST in the subject line. Reply ONLY to the contest post. Entries in separate posts will
not count. Just say hi to me in the post or comment on the earrings. Easy.
This contest closes at 8 p.m. EST tonight.
Now this is really something I love---APPLE MARTINIS. Now I can't give you the booze
to go along with it. lol But I can give you this adorable Glass Slipper filled with Apple Martini
Mixer. It's a pretty good size decanter--about 8 inches tall (collectible) and holds 9 oz of
I'm at Love Romances Cafe giving away this cute gift. All you have to do to enter is reply
to the post on the group. http://groups.yahoo.com/group/loveromancescafe
Just say Hi or comment about the decanter. Easy. Don't reply in a separate post. You MUST
piggy back off the contest post with CONTEST--Glass Slipper with Apple Martini Mixer
in the subject line only.
This contest closes at 7 p.m. tonight.
I'm giving away a heart-shaped pin today at the Midnight Seductions Authors Third Anniversary
Bash today. http://groups.yahoo.com/group/midnightseductions
Stop by. All you have to do to enter is simply post to the contest post (piggyback off that post--separate posts will not be accepted as a valid entry) and leave me a comment or just say HI on
the post ON the group. Do not comment here on the blog. Only to the contest post for the Pin
on the Midnight Seductions group. You'll see Contest To Win Heart-Shaped Pin in the subject line.
Contest closes at 6 pm EST tonight.
I'm giving away this set of candles at Love Romances Cafe.
Find the post with Contest to Win Ed Hardy
Candle Set in the subject line. Simply piggyback off of it and say hi or comment and that's all you have
to do to enter.
Contest closes at 6 p.m. EST tonight.
More contests to follow...
It's the Favorite Things Christmas Giveaway presented by Destiny Blaine
and Dawn Roberto of Love Romances Cafe.
Saturday, December 11, 2010
I'll be at Love Romances Cafe for the big
Destiny Blaine and Friends Annual Favorite Things Christmas Giveaway...at Love Romances Cafe (http://groups.yahoo.com/group/loveromancescafe)
Details of chat here> http://tessmackall.blogspot.com/2010/12/destiny-blaine-and-friends-annual.html
I'll be at the Midnight Seductions Authors Group for our big annual birthday bash. Our group is three years old this holiday season.
So stop by and join me at both chats.
I've got lots of great prizes lined up to give away for sure.
Happy Holidays, everyone!
Friday, December 10, 2010
I'll be there, will you? Don't miss out on the chance to win and win big!
I'm giving away ome really cool stuff. I know others are,too.
But not telling what!
You have to stop by to find out what Join in all the chatter.
Have some fun with us!
You are cordially invited to THE EVENT of the Season when Destiny Blaine and all her friends take over the Love Romances Café Loop for a fun-filled day of books, gifts, and more.
It’s time for--
Annual Favorite Things Christmas Giveaway
DATE: December 12th, 2010
TIME: 9 AM EST start time till ???
WHERE: LR Café Loop (http://groups.yahoo.com/group/loveromancescafe)
Some of Destiny’s Friends popping in this day and giving away a few of their favorite things are:
Realms of Fantasy Magazine
Lizzie T. Leaf
Cynthia R. Arsuaga
Secret Cravings Publishing
Dark Castle Lords
Manlove Romance/Passion In Print
Aspen Mountain Press
Plus over 100 more authors and publishers will be around this day as well.
Readers, authors and publishers are giving away their FAVORITE THINGS, and you’re invited to come on out and see what you can win because a lot of winners will go home with their arms loaded down with prizes. If you aren’t a member of Love Romances Café, go to
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/loveromancescafe/ and join now.
Will it be one of you?
Posted by Tess MacKall at 9:52 AM
Thursday, December 2, 2010
I woke up this morning to an email I really didn't expect to get. I'd entered Destiny Blaine's Breakfast by the Sea Contest--the namesake of her new release: Breakfast by the Sea now out with Siren Publishing http://www.bookstrand.com/breakfast-by-the-sea --and had pretty much forgotten about it.
I don't think I've ever entered but one or two contests. Heck, I never buy scratch tickets and only occasionally buy lottery tickets. My brother keeps telling me you have to play to win, but I just keep thinking it's all just a waste of time.
Well, imagine my surprise when I woke up to this email from Destiny telling me I'd won! It was 5:00 a.m. and I was barely awake. I shook my head a couple of times. Yeah, I must have looked like a cartoon character doing that. But hells bells, I've never won anything. You could have knocked me over with a feather.
I guess my brother is right, you've got to play to win.
I was especially interested in entering this contest because it was for one week of accommodations at either the Bayview Resort in Myrtle Beach, S.C. or to Jekyll Island, Ga. Myrtle Beach is my family's favorite vacation spot and only a couple of hours from where we live, so I know we'll end up choosing it. But I'll discuss it with them just in case.
One more thing. I also get to have Breakfast by the Sea with Destiny in Myrtle Beach when we go. And that's the part I'm looking forward to most. Getting to meet her will be great. We all have so many online friends but it's rare we do get to see each other in real life. And I plan to give her a big hug.
So I want to thank Destiny for such a wonderful prize and also thank her for writing such a great book. I really enjoyed Breakfast by the Sea. I'm so looking forward to meeting her in person and enjoying a week by the sea with my family.
Big hug to you, Destiny! Visit Destiny's website for a look at all the great books she's written. http://destinyblaine.com
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
So make sure you stop by any day this month and leave us a comment to enter. In addition to our giveaway, we'll be sharing all of our favorite holiday memories and inviting readers and writers alike to share theirs too.
So grab your hot chocolate, spiced apple cider, or egg nog, lol, and join us for a month of great memories and fellowship with one another.
Click HERE to join us or click on the pic on the right side bar!
Monday, November 22, 2010
These two back-to-back posts should make for some very interesting discussion. Stop by when you have the chance. Readers and authors are definitely welcome. Please, comment with your opinions. We'd love to hear from you.
Sunday, November 21, 2010
Do you like erotic poetry? Erotic romance author and poet, R. Paul Sardanas, allowed me the honor of collaborating on a poem with him. I'd love to know what you think of our creation. In addition to the poem, our friend, Samarel, of Samarel Art http://samarelart.com gifted us with the usage of one of his beautiful works of art to go along with the poem. To learn more about Paul and his writings, visit his website:http://rpaulsardanas.com Pick up a copy of his most recent release, a tantalizing tale of love and lust, The Order of the Golden Rose, which you can find at almost any online venue including Amazon. Thanks for reading.
Answering a Lady's Call
by Tess MacKall and R. Paul Sardanas
An unguarded moment rouses desire from its slumber.
She moves, most subtly, as he lies beside her.
Wrapped in gossamer threads of chastity, she stretches,
Memory of the unspeaking language of their bodies stirs,
breaking through her cocoon of denial.
tearing away all complexity of thought.
Uncertain, she touches the loosed cords that have imprisoned her.
Hesitant, he feels warmth flow to his hands, long cold.
Consent long ago given, now disavowed.
Want, once spontaneous, becomes a tortured path.
She parts her lips in awakening and her amber colored whispers beckon.
Her voice of soft desire comes to him in accents of dream.
In twilight, she waits.
He touches her hair, and walls of empty night fall away.
Ever susceptible to his caress, coral hues of sun-risen desire curls through her body, and pool at her woman’s center.
From the edge of sleep, he feels a tremulous wonder at the return of an almost painful heat.
A moment of clarity intrudes, a bitter reminder of her discontent.
Is she dreaming of him? How sweet that would be, and he almost prays for wakeful thought between them to blur, to stay gently buried in a mist of half-remembrance.
Torn, her body grows taut with the shame of her weakness and passion’s ache shimmers in its pearled essence of winter, refusing to surrender.
If he should speak, he knows he will no longer be a memory of love and hunger; her eyes are tightly shut, he is afraid that they will open, but he wants to see the look he once lived for in their depths.
Desire given voice, a small cry falls from her lips as slender tendrils of need ask for his charity.
They hang on a thread, woven of heart’s sound, until he hears her call; so small, so wrenching in its muted cadence of want.
And forgiveness finds its path.
He knows, and it floods into him with frightening joy, that the night has taken them deep again.
The darkened places of her heart dance with wild abandon, unfurling a scarlet ribbon of desire.
He gasps, echo to her own call, and when he breathes in, he is filled with the scent of her, ripping into a core of purest need that he cannot believe he had ever sealed, and put away.
In the long breath he takes, she hears the splendorous chorus of lost passion found, and trembles with the unexpected truth.
His hand is shaking, as his fingers run through her hair, then to the warm arc of her cheek, and the corner of her mouth.
He still wants her. She still needs him.
Her lips open, then close around his fingertip.
As morning blossoms lift their faces to the sun, she turns, gathering his hands to her breast.
When she turns to him, takes his hands, and he feels the beating of her heart beneath her breast, he remembers life. It is in the warmth of her skin, in the moist trace her mouth has left on his finger.
Her endless night glistens wet with unspoken apology and basks in the radiance of acceptance.
How could he have let himself forget this? Regret for nights that should have had no end lodges in his throat, and is transformed through the silent eloquence of his tongue, placing it to her areola; rising, to kiss the hollow of her neck.
She arches into the heat of his sunlit kiss as she presses her woman’s center into the curve of his hip and wraps her leg around his. Her body had not forgotten. Only the mind suffers.
When they were new together, and desire was uncontrollable, the simple pressure of her leg against him would have gone unnoticed. A ripple, on the face of a flood. Now it fans him to an intensity of desire beyond anything in the memory of youth.
She cries out with need for the touch and feel of what she thought lost, now found. The lines between lust and love blur and knowing him again is all that matters.
Her cry wrenches something in his soul. He wants to say “I never stopped wanting you. To be inside you is everything.” But as he enters her now, she breathes out two words. Did she truly say “love me”? He answers, with his body, with his own breath, with his soul.
She wants to tell him how much she loves him, how much she’s missed him—missed this. But for now it will be enough to feel him inside of her. To once again understand she belongs and is wanted, needed, loved. Her winter is at end.
He doesn’t know what the hours will bring, what tomorrow will bring. He knows just one thing in the warmth of this moment. Love didn’t end. Lost and silent, even hopeless…it rested. And yearned, all unspoken, for healing. His long, cold night transformed.
Tonight, sweet night, a call is answered, and they will sleep in the other’s arms.