Limecello’s review of Laced With Desire by Jaci Burton, Jasmine Haynes, Joey W. Hill, Denise Rossetti
Erotic romance anthology released by Berkley Trade 2 Feb 10

I read Unlaced, which is the book before this one, and enjoyed it. I really liked Laced with Desire as well. Admittedly, I thought some of it was a little weird, but overall I thought it was well written. There’s definitely a lot of variety in it, and seems to be a pretty good representation of all the authors. I liked that for this being an erotic romance anthology, there was a heavy focus on the relationship between the characters, and emotions as well.

No Strings Attached by Jaci Burton

I have to admit, I love the story line Jaci Burton used – the “forbidden woman” as well as friends to lovers. Ella has been widowed for five years, and while she’s done amazingly in business, personally, she’s let her live stagnate. She goes off to Hawaii, and her over protective friend Clay is driven to go and make sure she doesn’t do anything stupid… and finds he’s more than attracted to her

It’s nice that Ella and Clay had a relationship prior to the impetuous trip to Hawaii. Even more, that Clay had been friends with Ella and her deceased husband. The fact that Ms. Burton addressed the complicated relationship, and the anxieties and misgivings Ella might have, really gave this story depth.

It also makes Clay that much more likable. Yes, both character avoid their emotions, and there’s a bit of run around, but for a novella, I thought it was extremely well written.

The story is hot, the characters fit, and nothing too outrageous happens. The characters were also very natural, believable, and developed. I’m very much looking forward to Ms. Burton’s next book – it seems her writing only gets better.

Grade: B+

Summary:

Jaci Burton breaks the rule of mixing business with pleasure when two professional rivals cross paths at a tropical resort. She figures she can handle a fling with no strings attached. He’s out to show her that she figured wrong.

Read an excerpt here.

La Petite Mort by Jasmine Haynes

For those of you who like such stories, the hero and heroine in this novella are slightly older. (In their 40s or more.) Sophia was a model, but has lived the consummate life. She made a mistake while young, and due to the alienation it caused with her father, has been extremely careful since. The fact that she thinks she may be dying makes for a believable catalyst in making changes.

This story features a threesome, but somehow Ms. Haynes makes it seem very personal still, and that it brings Sophia and Ford closer together, rather than adding complications. I don’t know how she does it, but it’s believable.

In a way, the biggest hang up might be the fact that Ford is Sophia’s boss.
There isn’t a lot of substance to this story, as the word/page constraints limit that, but I thought that Ford and Sophia were well developed. I got a sense of who they were, and understood their characters. And the fact that they liked and admired each other before entering a physical relationship – and that it was natural, if not bound to happen.

Grade: B+

Summary:

Jasmine Haynes explores the lust of a former supermodel who needs to finally fulfill a no-holds-barred sexual fantasy. Finding two men to do it with is easy. But are they up to giving her all the pleasure she’s been denied?

Read an excerpt here.

Honor Bound by Joey W. Hill

I have to say… I was not expecting this story. It features and interesting dynamic with a dominant and submissive. It’s a continuation of the Knights of the Boardroom, and admittedly, this novella is why I was so excited for the entire anthology. I’ve only read the previous story, and I think my selective reading left me confused. Nonetheless, there’s a lot of sexy, kinky stuff going on in this story. And, a lot in general, with layers and emotions and characters.

All the males are dominants, the women submissives. (More so in this story, than the others, which is some of the cause for my surprise.)

Additionally, both Dana and Peter are soldiers. I liked that they had that commonality, and that Ms. Hill treated it so realistically. Dana is actually injured, and blinded, and worse. While tragic, I appreciated the fact that the characters are wounded in battle, rather than superhuman and making war seem like a day at the amusement park.
It also leads to a very complex psychological push and pull between Dana and Peter, because there’s the question of their relationship (or lack thereof), and the reasons why they might get back together.

I liked the love at first sight concept, and the fact that even though Peter is the dominant, he writes to Dana for a year, knowing she won’t respond. There’s give and take to the relationship, that had nice balance, and made me believe in a real romantic relationship between the two. It helped me understand more of BDSM, I suppose. It’s definitely not my thing, but I could see how and why it was for Dana, and that also made me like and appreciate Honor Bound.

Grade: B

Summary:

Joey W. Hill reveals the erotic bond between a master and the beautiful submissive who stole his heart. Recapturing their night of unparalleled passion won’t be easy—until a specific piece of lingerie comes into play.

When not called up by the National Guard, Peter Winston is a successful businessman, part of the K&A management team. Like the other four members, he’s also a sexual Dominant, adept at bringing a woman to pleasurable surrender. The night before he heads out on his second Afghanistan tour, he meets Dana, a sexual submissive who gets into his head and heart the way no woman ever has.

But Dana is also an Army sergeant. It will be over a year before they see one another again, and when they do, she’s suffered injuries that took her sight and will to live. With the creative use of a corset and the talents of the other K&A males, Peter sets the stage for another special night for them, knowing that only a submissive’s willingness to trust her Master will bring her back to love and life again.

Read an excerpt here.

Rhio’s Dancer by Denise Rossetti

There was a lot going on in this story, but I found the ending to be really cute. I did feel that I might be missing something by not having read many of Denise Rossetti’s other books. This is a fantasy romance, and a continuation from Ms. Rossetti’s novella in Unlaced, and I liked that a lot. We get a cameo visit from the previous couple, and a happy ending for Rhio and Amae (Dancer).

The setting makes things a bit difficult, and some time needs to be spent describing the world, social structure, and political system, even, but there’s still a nice connection between Rhio and Amae. Yes, sex brings them together, and there’s this whole sub plot to stop the assassination of the queen (like how I just threw that out there? It’s not the main focus of the story anyway…) it all works to bring Rhio and Amae together.

Amae is damaged – she’s been a slave for fifteen years, and for all that Rhio is a hardened captain, he’s a genuinely nice guy. There’s a scene where he’s cuddling with Amae, and she expresses surprise. The juxtaposition of sex and violence and soft tender moments rounds everything out nicely.

Grade: C+

Summary:

Denise Rossetti goes beyond the limits of desire when she pairs a battle-scarred veteran of love and war with a woman who’s just as fearless and twice as dangerous. What happens between them is positively combustible. But what a way to go.

Rhio’s a battle-scarred veteran of both love and war, a soldier right down to his bootstraps. But he’s never met a woman as fierce, as fascinating – as dangerous – as Dancer. And she’s up to her pretty neck in political intrigue. She just might kill him before they’re through, but what a glorious way to go!

Read an excerpt here.

I have to say, each story was distinct, and yet incorporated a corset on some level. It was nice to get the whole “laced with desire” idea into all four in such different ways. Cute, and well done.

Overall Grade: B

Summary:

Rough hands rounding the curves of a soft warm body—caressing, stroking,
edging her toward exquisite pleasure…

Seduction is a cinch in these four all-new sizzling stories from the hot authors of Unlaced…

Devon’s review of A Mermaid’s Ransom by Joey W. Hill
Paranormal Romance released by Berkely Trade 1 December  2009

If you’ve read my reviews of the previous two installments in this series (go on, check them out here and here), you’ll know I’m a great big fan of this author. She’s a consistent author of erotic romance that is both super hot and touchingly romantic, exploring themes of dominance and submission, faith and acceptance. I am loving this Mermaid series more and more with each book. This world of mermaids and angels is not as dark as some of Hill’s other settings, but it, and its inhabitants, are growing increasingly complex. A Mermaid’s Ransom really pushes the envelope with its hero. Those who like their tormented heroes to be truly tormented may like him as much as I did, but I suspect there are some who may not. Why? Read on and find out.

A Mermaid’s Ransom takes place twenty-odd years after the events of A Mermaid’s Kiss and A Witch’s Beauty. Alexis, the daughter of Jonah and Anna, is a grown up Merangel now. That’s right, she’s a Merangel, which means she sprouts wings and a tail at the same time. Seems awkward to me, but hey, what do I know. Anyhoo, Alexis is a happy-go-lucky college student liked by all due to her angelic energy and empathic abilities. Her lovely world is turned inside out when her increasingly dark erotic dreams become all too real. Alexis has been pulled into the realm of the Dark Ones by Dante, half Dark-Spawn, half Vampire.

Dante played a secondary role in A Witch’s Beauty, but he’s changed a lot since that book. He’s now the most powerful thing in the freaky, frightening Dark One realm, and he plans to use Alexis to escape the hell he’s spent his life in. Alexis is frightened, but also incredibly drawn to Dante, and she senses a spark of…something in him. Of course, if he does manage to escape, Alexis’ friends and family are gonna be none too happy with him. Plus, what is a vampire/demon who has spent his life in a hell dimension going to do in our world anyway? Probably not going to fit in.

Dante is a sociopath, plain and simple. It’s not his fault, he has spent his life in a place where the only emotions that exist are fear, rage, lust, and despair, and the only pursuits are showing dominance, causing pain and survival. It is an awful, frightening place, and Dante can be a frightening person. He feels attached to Alexis, very possessive and protective of her, and very attracted. But he has only the tiniest understanding of tender emotions, and he is confused by the things he feels. Dante has also done some whack shit in order to survive and triumph over his lifelong tormentors, the Dark Ones. He’s a mess. A totally freaking hot mess.

Alexis, kind of like her mother Anna, is almost Mary Sue-ish in her complete goodness and sweetness. What saves her from being annoying is her self-awareness (she has always felt that people are drawn to her due to her angelic aura rather than for herself), her sense of humor regarding the weirdness of the Dante situation, and her spine. Despite the fact that she’s afraid and uncertain of what will happen with Dante, Alexis is certain of her connection to him. This gives her the faith to stand up to Dante and her family and try to help him make his way in this world. Their romance is weird, fascinating and super sexy.

The plot is well paced, with moments funny and touching to temper some of the darker aspects. Jonah, Anna, Mina and David make welcome appearances, and help move things along. Hill can wax a bit…new age-y about the whole submission thing and the Goddess and what not, but not for too long. I also felt that the very end of the book, after the intense climax, was a bit of a letdown. But that leads me to my main concern. There is no magical 180 for Dante. He changes and grows throughout the story, but he ain’t no shiny, happy person by the end. He’s got a long way to go. Readers may find it hard to root for him. Me, I loved him, and I hope to see more of how they’re coming along in future books.

This is my favorite of the three books so far, and I’m looking forward to the next. I do recommend reading in order, and reading all three. If you’re looking for a paranormal that’s not run of the mill, give it a try. Complex characters, hot sex and food for thought to be found.

Grade: A-

Summary:
Growing up the daughter of a famous mermaid and the second in command of the angelic legions can put a lot of pressure on a girl. Though she loves her parents, Alexis has chosen to live among humans as an ordinary college girl, but she can’t hide the tranquil aura of angelic light and empathic ability that draws people to her. Unfortunately, while it draws men to her, none of them are willing to cross the line to find her true heart and soul – or even give her a decently passionate kiss. That is, until she begins to dream of a male trapped in fire and rage, who wants her so badly he’ll tear the universe apart to have her. However, while all she can feel is his pain and suffering, and a yearning to heal him, Dante sees her as the way to his freedom. He thinks he’s willing to destroy her to accomplish that, but once he kidnaps her into his world and is confronted with the girl who is the opposite of everything he’s ever known, he starts to wonder if his freedom is as important as keeping her by his side.
Read an excerpt here

Other books in the series:

What a fun day we had with Joey W. Hill during her Duck Chat here at the Pond! Thanks for being with us, Joey!

Now hold onto your hats! Here’s the winner of an autographed copy of Beloved Vampire using that handy-dandy random number generator:

**Edie (14)

Congrats, Edie! If by chance you already have a copy of Beloved Vampire, Joey will send you a copy of anything from her current or future backlist!

Please send your snail mail address to Lighthousetagger@gmail.com and we’ll send your info on to Joey!

Welcome to another fun day of Duck Chat!

Today is your lucky day because Joey W. Hill is here!

Joey is a busy lady if her backlist of books is any indication. With all that writing, I’m surprised she has enough time left over for regular life! But that’s probably just fine for all of her fans. More books for you to read, right? I have to admit though I have a couple of Joey’s books in my TBR pile, I haven’t read her yet.    But hope springs eternal! I loved browsing through all of her different series, however, because I’m series fan. I think once I start on Joey’s series, I’d never stop. How about all of you?

Be sure to leave a meaningful comment or question — Joey will be here to talk to you all and she’s giving away a copy of Beloved Vampire today!

So let’s not delay any longer. We’ve got a lot to talk about with Joey. So let’s chat!

DUCK CHAT: Wow, Joey, a browse through your website is a treat! So many books to choose from! Let’s talk about your Daughters of Arianne just because it intrigued me first. Would you tell us about the series as a whole and then talk about a book or two.

JOEY W. HILL: Glad you enjoyed the tour. I recently redid it so it was more “series-friendly”, since the bulk of my current books fall under four series (Daughters of Arianne, Vampire Queen, Nature of Desire and Knights of the Board Room). The Daughters of Arianne series was spawned by my childhood interest in Hans Christian Andersen’s sad Little Mermaid tale. I started doing the “what if” thing: “What if” the original “little mermaid” had had a daughter? What challenges might her descendants face, particularly if the sea witch’s curses/blessings continued down through the female line, changing a little bit with each daughter?

My heroes in the first two books have been angels, because I’m equally enamored of angel lore, particular the tales of the warrior angels, like Michael. I’ve never liked the idea of them as sexless beings of pure virtue (laughter), so I imagined a virile warrior class whose job is to fight the Goddess’s enemies. Jonah, my first hero in Mermaid’s Kiss, is over a thousand years old, the Prime Legion Commander, but he has a crisis of faith when he loses an angel lieutenant who was like a son to him. Anna, as the young mermaid who rescues Jonah from the sea when he’s wounded in battle, is a young mermaid with a heart full of hope and light (despite facing a death sentence at age 21). Her perspective on life is exactly what Jonah needs.

DC: How many books are planned in the series? The most recent release is A Witch’s Beauty, which is David and Mina’s story. Would you tell us a little about them?

JWH: As many books as the muse gives me and readers are willing to read (aka that Berkley is willing to publish – grin) When I was “what iffing” on the first book, I also wondered about the sea witch’s descendants, if the lives of those dark daughters would somehow remain intertwined with that of the Little Mermaid’s. Mina, the sea witch Anna considers her friend (while Mina considers Anna a huge annoyance), therefore became a strong secondary character in Mermaid’s Kiss, so strong I knew she’d have her own book.

Her hero is a young angel named David. There’s a very cool story concerning him. A few years back, I wrote a pair of books, Ice Queen and the sequel, Mirror of My Soul. These were contemporary BDSM erotic romances with a very challenging heroine named Marguerite. She had a twin brother named David that was killed when he was fourteen, and at the end of Mirror of My Soul, there is a very brief hint of angelic presence that Tyler, my hero, realizes is the spirit of Marguerite’s brother, intervening on her behalf.

So when I started writing Mermaid’s Kiss, Jonah had a new young lieutenant named David, and of course the moment I envisioned him, I knew Marguerite’s brother had come back to visit me. And usually two visits mean that character will have his own book. So he is the young angel that won’t give up on Mina, no matter that the rest of the angelic host thinks she’s destined to give her burgeoning powers to the dark side and should be exterminated now, before she becomes a real problem.

DC: A Mermaid’s Ransom will be out in December. Can you give us a sneak peak?

JWH: Absolutely. The heroine in this book is Jonah and Anna’s daughter, Alexis. She’s a shifter like her mother, but prefers to live in human form on land. She’s enjoying life ostensibly as a college student, but she’s empathic and has an angel’s tranquil aura, so while people are attracted to her, males stay “hands off” because they react to the aura as if she’s a nun. However, she starts having dreams of a very different kind of male, one full of darkness and fire, lonely and savage at once. The hero of this book is Dante, who showed up briefly in Witch’s Beauty as a Dark Spawn. (That’s a creature that’s one half Dark One – an evil entity – and one half something else. In Dante’s case, the other half is vampire.) Dante has been trapped in the Dark One world for decades, and he’s determined to break free of the seal that the sea witch Mina placed on their portals. He uses his not-inconsiderable powers as a sorcerer to build a dream portal. Once he gains Alexis’s sympathy and trust in dreams, he yanks her over into his world and holds her as a prisoner, bargaining for his freedom. However, he doesn’t anticipate the effect that Alexis will have on him, and of course that’s where our conflict and tension really takes off.

Dante was a very difficult character to write, because he was a person in a one dimensional morality. There is no right or wrong in the Dark One world – it’s all about what you do to survive. Anticipating how that kind of being would react to someone like Alexis, who has only known the protection and love of the whole angelic host and the mermaid world all her short life, made it a great challenge for me as an author. I hope I did them justice, because they were great characters. I’m sure the readers will let me know!

If you’d like an excerpt from the book (or for any of the books I’m mentioning here, just jump over to my website and go to the Books Available link. I always have a free excerpt for every book, current or future release.

Excerpt from A Mermaid’s Ransom:

Brimstone. How on earth did she know what brimstone smelled like?

Maybe she remembered it from that time she’d ended up in the outer catacombs of Hell, looking for the caverns where her parents had first met. She’d been twelve, and fascinated by the story of how Anna had hidden Jonah there when he was hurt and being pursued by Dark Ones. Of course, Lex hadn’t been thrilled to run smack into Lucifer while on her romantic quest. She’d been told in no uncertain terms she would not be swimming down into his realm again, not if she knew what was good for her. She was twenty-one now, but the memory still made her shudder.

God, she loved her parents, but they had such scary friends. The Lord of the Underworld was her father’s best friend, while Anna’s was the seawitch Mina, a creature whose name no merperson would speak above a whisper.

But whether or not Alexis was smelling brimstone, this had to be a dream. Mainly because that part of the mind that kept things from being too frightening in dreams said so, even though there was a tenuous note that made it more hopeful suggestion than sure fact.

She was floating in fire. While she felt its heat, she wasn’t burned. It was licking at the fronds of her tail, another curiosity. Usually, she appeared in dreams in her human form, not her birth form, which was merangel—half-mermaid, half-angel, with tail, fins and wings.

As she started to turn to see what was behind her, a hand touched her wings. Strong, male fingers penetrated the thick layers of feathers, curling to grip, knuckles stroking the fragile network of bones beneath.

Ah, it was going to be that kind of dream. This might be worth the nasty brimstone smell, though a funny, fluttery feeling in the pit of her belly recommended she run, even as her body refused to move. The hand teased the feathers where they were attached to flesh, the most sensitive area, and she drew in a breath. Tipping her head back, she found a broad shoulder waiting to support it. It was attached to a very male body pressing against her back, his bare thigh against her hip. The intriguing, muscular plane of a stomach brushed her wings. Another hand parted them as if opening a garment and slid down her spine, making her shiver.

As his breath caressed the side of her throat, because it was a dream, her hair conveniently tumbled over her right shoulder to give him access. His mouth closed over her skin. It wasn’t a kiss. It was as if she was about to be eaten, her flesh savored. The fire was advancing up her body, making her wonder if it came from him, a creature of fire and hunger.

A fang scraped her, and she yelped as he punctured her beneath her delicate gill slit, bringing pain but pleasure as well. Because of that, she remained still, willing to give him blood. His hands made their torturous way to her hip bones, stimulating the tight overlapping scales below them. One hand drifted to the silver and diamond piercing through the thin skin of her navel. Oh, Goddess. She was so responsive there, almost as much as her neck. His lips moved on her, suckling, and she could hear the rush of her blood, eager to nourish him.

Her father had frowned when she got the navel piercing, but Alexis was enchanted by the way it sparkled. If she touched it with light fingers as she lay in bed at night, it sent frissons of sensual energy rippling out like tropical waves, making her imagine a lover’s hands.

She’d never had a lover. It was hard enough to be an empath, but then to have an angel’s energy on top of that? Men were attracted to her like insects to a bug light, but they didn’t come close enough to be zapped. When Lex was in her teens, Anna had pointed out this trait saved lives. Jonah would have had little patience for the hormonal missteps of young males when it came to his only child.

Would have pinched their heads off like ticks on a hound.

Not her mother’s words, of course. Alexis had a human friend, Clara, who’d been born in Georgia and who described her own daddy’s attitude about boys that way. Since it seemed to apply to Jonah, Alexis couldn’t help thinking of it when the issue came up.

But she wasn’t a child anymore. And this was definitely a very grown-up dream. A little more than she’d ever experienced, actually. It was the last coherent thought she had as both of his hands slid up her abdomen, teasing the piercing again before they kept going. She arched back into his body, holding her breath, wanting him to go exactly where he was going, her flesh aching.

There. She gasped, dream or not, as calloused palms closed over her bare breasts, for apparently that was the way her dream wanted them to be, and who was she to argue? She’d gone to sleep in an oversized nightshirt printed with a sardonic pink bunny over the caption It’s All About Me. It certainly wouldn’t have fit with this dream.

Raising her hands, she closed them on his forearms. He stilled, as if he hadn’t expected her to touch him. He was still drinking deep, making her dizzy, increasing the roar of her heartbeat. As she rocked with the motion of the fire, she brushed her backside against his groin. The hard evidence of his desire sent a thrill of apprehension and excitement through her. It was a little too real, a little intimidating.

“You will take the fear. Reach behind you and hold me in your hands.”

The voice was rough, as if scarred by searing clouds of smoke. It rumbled through her body like thunder, the kind that preceded heat lightning, not cooling draughts of rain. Perspiration gleamed on her skin now, heat increasing, and she looked down at his hands. The nails were long, almost like claws, the tips leaving thin red rivulets over her flesh, but the strength in his grip, the erotic kneading, balanced her apprehension. Plus, she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the sight of those hands on her breasts, the way they cupped and held her, so sure and powerful, the glide of thumb and forefinger together to capture the nipples, squeeze and roll them in a way that had her swallowing, hard.

“Grip me, now. I command it.”

Reaching behind her pushed her breasts further into his palms, and gave her the quaking sense of being bound, her arms pulled behind her back. Her fingertips slid along a muscular thigh, then over, grazing shyly over a heavy testicle sac to find the base of his shaft. His tongue flicked against her neck, and she gasped, her hand closing over him in spasmodic reaction.

Oh, great Goddess. This might be a dream, but it was difficult to believe it wasn’t something more, because she’d never had her hand on a man’s cock before. How could she register in such detail not just the thickness and velvet length, but the hard heat, the remarkable smoothness of the skin stretched over it, the crease and flare over the head? Viscous fluid made her fingers slippery, instinct motivating her to rub them down his length.

He growled and pushed himself into her hands more urgently. It was so marvelous, so breathtaking, she had to smile at the joy of it, press her temple into his jaw, a thanks for giving her the gift of his passion, his need.

All those hard muscles tensed as if he’d become a marble statue behind her. Her dream was ending. Reality was pulling her away from the fire, from him. Panicked, she twisted around to look up into his face, see who or what he was. What had she done wrong? Could she get him to change his mind, let her stay?

Dark hair tangled over his forehead and around insanely beautiful features. Since she was the daughter of an angel, the most breathtaking species in existence, that was saying something. Then she met his eyes.

Red, gold, orange. The pupils were a tunnel of darkness in the midst of fire. She fell into them, his loneliness and despair, rage and violence closing around her as if he’d clamped a fist around her body to hold her in this stasis of yearning agony.

She’d learned early to stay away from hospitals, slaughterhouses, prisons—wherever suffering of such magnitude existed that she couldn’t adhere to the lesson she’d finally learned and let the Goddess’s cycles take their natural course for those inflicting or suffering pain. She had to fix it or go mad with the agony.

His pain was all those places and more. A suicide’s dead despair, a killer’s rage, a victim’s uncomprehending pain. His sensual lips were curved in a permanent cruel sneer, her blood on his mouth. If he could, he’d drink all of her blood, tear the flesh away and gnaw on her bones, trying to get to the very soul of her. That was what he had to have, what he wanted.

The flame began to burn her flesh. An urgent force pulled at her, trying to take her away from him. Instead, she lifted her hand and laid it on his mouth. Fire exploded through her, igniting all her nerve endings, contorting her mouth with an involuntary scream, but before it all swirled away, she registered the shock in his eyes at her willing touch. Then she was alone, burning alive, screaming for help in a world where everything had disappeared, sucked into that pitiless void in his eyes.

* * * * *

Alexis erupted from her bed, sending T into a squalling leap for safety. The cat knocked over her Victorian hurricane lamp, though the glass bulb shade fortunately tumbled into the mountainous pile of stuffed animals that overflowed from the corner. She spun around.

“Whoa, whoa.” Clara danced back, holding up both hands. “Easy there, Lex. It’s me. You left your door unlocked again, you trusting idiot. I’ve been trying to wake you for five minutes. Goddess, you’re strobing like a disco ball.”

Clara was a clairvoyant. While Clara didn’t know that Alexis was a merangel, Lex was happy to have the closest thing possible to a normal friendship with her, because Clara could get past the vibrating light of Alexis’s aura to the girl beneath.

As she swayed, getting her bearings, Clara proved it by rubbing her hands along Lex’s arms, grounding her further. “Easy now. You’re here. You’re with us. That must have been one hell of a dream.”

Alexis choked on a wild chuckle. At Clara’s alarmed look, she panicked, thinking she might have shifted some portion of her anatomy. A glance toward the dresser mirror told her she looked like any human woman, with her curling brown hair to her waist, blue eyes—though right now they were giant marbles bugging out of her head—and completely human body. No wings materializing, no fins or tail dropping her like a clumsy trout on the carpet.

“I’m okay.” She sank down as Clara shoved her desk chair beneath her. “Just talk to me while I get it together.”

“Okay, hon, okay.” Clara pressed against the back of the chair, her hand in Lex’s hair, stroking. “I had about an hour before classes, and thought I’d stop in to see if you want to audit Greek Mythology with me. It’s being taught by a visiting Greek professor, and holy Gawd, is he hot. Talks with the accent and everything.”

“You want me to bait him for you.” Alexis tilted her head into Clara’s abdomen, gazing up the valley between two high, rounded breasts, probably sculpted by the latest in underwear engineering to show them off to best advantage. Her friend’s humor brought her feet back down to earth. Only she wasn’t sure if “up” wasn’t more accurate. The dream had seemed deep inside some strange planet, far from sky or water, or anything she’d ever known.

“Well, you are my friend, and what are friends for?” Clara curled a lock of Lex’s hair around her ring-bedecked fingers and tugged, though her eyes still showed worry. “We can do our usual thing. You spin the web that catches him and I’ll nail his cute, tight ass. Unless you want the honors for once?”

You will not let him touch you.

Alexis yelped, bolting out of the chair. She tripped, tumbling on her backside into the cushiony paws of an oversized teddy bear, nothing like the embrace of her dreams. Clara was still standing at the chair, staring at her. “What the hell was that?”

“I’m sorry, I guess I’m still spooked. I just—”

“No, not that.” Clara knelt by her side, tentatively reached out and closed a hand on her forearm. “Okay, I’m losing my mind, but for a second there your skin got so hot I had to let you go. You okay?”

Alexis tried a nod and pulled off a circular motion that didn’t reassure Clara or herself. Clara sat down beside her, squashing an Eeyore and Pooh pairing, but clasped the Tigger that fell in her lap as she drew up her knees.

“If you drank, I’d say you’d had one too many last night at that Mexican place we tried. But other than your usual high-on-the-nectar-of-life great time, you didn’t drink.”

“Yeah. Great time. Every man in the place noticed me, but not one wanted to do anything more than dance. They even did that way outside my personal space perimeter.”

During adolescence, before she’d fully understood her powers—such that they were—she’d suspected Jonah had cast a magical chastity aura over his daughter at birth. In time, she’d realized all daughters of Arianne were born with special gifts, and this was hers. An exceptional intuition for emotional pain, combined with the tranquil angel power that emanated from her.

Initially, she’d followed her heart instead of her head, wanting to ease pain wherever it happened. She’d resisted her father’s warnings, and made some terrible mistakes. As was often the case, her mother’s words provided the gentle balm to accept Jonah’s painful wisdom.

Suffering is one of the important ways we grow, Lex. You must allow others to suffer. Use your understanding wisely, when it is truly needed, or when it will not derail someone from the path they need to walk. If you do not have that wisdom, it is best not to interfere.

Sometimes, she wondered why the Goddess had given her the gift at all, because the only way it seemed useful was to make people feel happy-fuzzy being around her. In short, she could give a moment’s breather to a girlfriend experiencing the blinding agony of being jilted by a guy, or stop someone from jumping off a building. Everything in between needed to be hands-off. Since she couldn’t switch off either ability, they drew people to her.

She didn’t really mind that. What was frustrating was that the same light that sent out a “come hither” feeling also had a “too good to touch” vibe when it came to males. Unconsciously, they remained at arm’s length, keeping their hands off.

Alexis scrubbed her face. “At least the guy in my dream was different, even if he was sort of a hellspawn, scary demon-vampire type.”

Clara slid an arm around her, a reassurance Alexis gratefully accepted, along with her friend’s cautious but teasing smile. “Tell all, girlfriend. Was he hung like a moose?”

“Oh, Goddess.” Alexis rolled her eyes. “Is that all a guy needs?”

“No, of course not. I expect intelligence, a sense of humor, an enormous bank account and a great body coupled with a decent but manly fashion sense. The well-hung component only becomes requisite if we get that far. But in dreams you can assume those things are given and jump ahead to the good parts. Literally.”

Alexis tried to laugh and instead drew a deep, shuddering breath, thinking of the man in her dream again. While she could feel his emotions, for the first time in her life, they’d been so overwhelming they were mostly incomprehensible. Maybe because it was a dream. Just a dream. When she pressed her face against Clara’s shoulder to stop the spinning, the girl closed both arms around her, rocking her.

“Take it easy, now,” she murmured. “I got you. You’re such a strange friend, Lex. I don’t think I’ve ever loved anyone more, because you love back like it’s the easiest thing in the world, and you have enough for everyone. But you also worry me. Sometimes you’re way too alone, even though everyone adores you. It’s as if you’re pulling away, toward a destiny that’s kind of scary. I don’t want to lose you.”

Okay, here was one of the reasons having a clairvoyant friend was not fun. Clara’s observations always held truth. Since Alexis had the same lingering feeling, her anxiety swelled, tempting her to tell Clara everything. But that was one of the rules that couldn’t be broken.

Over twenty years ago, a huge apocalyptic battle had happened. Humans had briefly seen angels in the sky, even fought beside some of them to push back the tide of Dark Ones unleashed through a rift. After that, for reasons known only to the Goddess, the angels had been commanded to disappear from human sight again, leaving humans to wonder whether they’d experienced a spiritual revelation, a visit from outer space, or some mass hallucinatory trip brought on by sunspots. Budgets to investigate extraterrestrial life had tripled in all developed nations. As accounts varied, life returned to normal again, angels and other paranormal creatures remaining speculative fantasy to all but the select few humans ready to handle truth.

So Alexis hugged her, straightened and pushed Clara’s straight red hair away from her forehead, touching the delicate diamond and gold ring she wore in the right nostril. “I already told you, you’re going to lose me one day. I’m going to run away with the circus. I’ll free all the lions, tigers and elephants, and take them back to Africa on a raft I make out of wishes.”

The shadows cleared from Clara’s gaze. “There you are. Doing that thing you do.”

“What?”

“Talking like a kindergarten teacher, while all of us eat it up like five-year-olds.”

Alexis made a face. “By the way, he was well-hung. I didn’t see it. I felt it.”

“Yuck.” Clara giggled and shoved her away, throwing the Tigger so it bounced off Alexis’s shoulder. “I never imagined my kindergarten teacher wrapping her fingers around anything except a piece of chalk. Was he someone we know?”

“No.” Alexis sobered, picking up the stuffed animal and considering the foolish face, the broad nose, while her fingers flexed in the soft fur. “I don’t think so. It was kind of a crazy dream. Lots of fire, darkness.”

She raised her gaze to Clara. “He needed me, more than I think anyone has ever needed another. So strong, he’d shatter the universe to get me.”

“God, that’s romantic.”

Actually, it was pretty frightening. Because Alexis knew just how fragile the universe was.

DC: If you could retire any question and never, ever have it asked again, what would it be? Feel free to answer it.

JWH: Laughter – you ask me that, and then you tell me to answer it?! :> The question is “How do you come up with your ideas?” I’ve said in other interviews that I don’t care what elaborate thing authors say to answer this, most of the time it just leaps into your head, kicked off by some type of sensory cue/input. It could be a snippet of sentence, a person’s face, the way a leaf falls off a tree…then all of a sudden you’re connecting that one piece to a bunch of other pieces. I saw a recent thing on J.K. Rowling where she said the same thing – she was just riding on a train, and the idea for Harry Potter “just came to her”. She started following it, and now she has thousands of pages of material on Harry Potter.

I believe there is a collective creative consciousness, and that, if we get lucky as authors, we tap into that. Depending on the type of people we are, specific types of ideas stick with us better than others. For instance, I’ll never be a western author or an inspirational romance author, but there are other authors who will be outstanding in this field.

DC: The Vampire Queen series, would you tell us about it as a whole first? Is it evolving the way you expected when you wrote the first book, The Vampire Queen’s Servant back in 2007?

JWH: I always liked the idea of a vampire as a hero or heroine, versus a monstrous Salem’s Lot kind of character (of course, that was one scary, badass book – had to look under my bed for weeks after I read it). When I saw Fright Night, I was drawn in by Chris Sarandon’s sexy dance with Charlie’s girlfriend, and was kind of disappointed when he had to turn into a gross-looking creature in the end. Anyhow, since I am an erotic romance author, and I tend to delve into the BDSM end of the pool, I was interested in exploring the vampire-servant relationship. None of the vampire books I’d read had really done that, or taken it as deeply as I wanted it to go. The possibilities for erotic power and surrender struggles were endless.

Years ago, my first erotic romance was a Male Dominant/female submissive story, and since my own reading and personal interests gravitate in that direction, it surprised me quite a bit when the next two evolved into Female Dominant/male submissive stories. I love the “palace guard” concept of a male submissive – an alpha male in service to a powerful female character, willing to do anything to protect her, yet often struggling with an unexpected need to surrender to her sexually. So by the time I got to Vampire Queen’s Servant, I wasn’t at all surprised that the muse wanted to kick off the series with a thousand-year-old vampire queen and a former vampire hunter applying for the job of being her servant. Jacob and Lyssa’s story was so complex that it took two books to tell it (Vampire Queen’s Servant and Mark of the Vampire Queen), but I’m glad I took that time. Some stories just need more room. And it looks like the readers would like to see a third book featuring the two of them as main characters, and we’re going to try to give that to them in the future.

As to whether the series is evolving the way I expected, that’s a yes and no question. Series are different from sequels. Sequels have a continuous storyline happening, but series tend to pick up secondary characters from the previous book and give them their own story, and except for whatever you locked them into in that previous book, they can go into any direction. So that’s the fun of writing a series – each book gets more and more fun, because you’ve established your world and don’t have to spend as much time thinking that out. But you never know what way those characters will take you.

DC: The most recent release is A Vampire’s Claim, which was out this past March. Would you give our readers a look inside this book?

JWH: Oh, I loved writing this book. It can stand alone from the first two, because Vampire’s Claim takes place fifty years before VQS/MotVQ – and it all happens in Australia. I admit I’ve been enamored of Australian men since Paul Hogan in Crocodile Dundee, and it’s only grown with the likes of Heath Ledger and Hugh Jackman. My critique partner, Aussie author Denise Rossetti, provided me great direction in researching the history of that time period, the language (I got a little carried away with it, and she had to fuss at me to tone it down – I was using more Oz sayings than an native Australian!) and the Outback. This was all relevant because Devlin, my hero, is a WWII veteran and bushman, who gets entangled with the young vampire Daniela (Danny – and young is relative for vampires – she’s about 200). She’s returning to her sheep station to reclaim it from her late mother’s good-for-nothing consort. In the process they also deal with a powerful and twisted Region Master. Dev’s knowledge of the country comes in handy when Danny’s vehicles are sabotaged in the middle of the bush right before dawn, and that’s just the first obstacle they face together.

She doesn’t want to rope him into being her servant, but as the danger mounts, she decides it’s the only way she can keep him safe, so she marks him against his will, contributing to the conflict between them. But of course, the constant in my stories is that no matter what the heroine does, the hero stands at her back when she most needs him. I’m sure I’m not drawing any comparisons between my wonderful, loving husband and the difficult woman HE’s had to stand by for 20 years!

DC: This month Beloved Vampire is slated to hit the shelves. Mason and Jessica are front and center in this book. May we get just a tiny peek into their story?

JWH: While my readers have responded very well to my Dominant heroines and their protective men, there are some who have waited patiently for me to offer a Dominant hero and submissive heroine in this paranormal series. I’m happy to give them that in Beloved Vampire! Lord Mason made an appearance in Mark of the Vampire Queen, just enough to whet everyone’s appetite. He’s a vampire of mixed ancestry who has haunted the Sahara off and on for about three hundred years, guarding the tomb of his lost love, Farida. My heroine, Jessica, is a fugitive from Mason’s world – she was kidnapped and forced to serve a brutal vampire master for five years as a second-marked servant.

The night Raithe intends to third-mark her, the third-mark is only half completed, because a fortunately timed vampire hunter attack allows Jessica to kill him. Unfortunately, being half-thirdmarked isn’t a good thing, and she is terminally ill. She was an archaeology student, so she picks up the legend of a Bedouin girl’s love for a mysterious visitor to her father’s camp. Jessica, moved by the girl’s faith in an undying love, and completely unaware that love was for a vampire, decides to find the girl’s supposed resting place – to die there. Of course that’s when my hero and heroine’s paths cross, and Mason finds himself unwilling to let the tormented woman die, particularly when he can possibly save her life by making her his servant.

I love writing both paranormals and contemporaries, but the nice thing about the contemporaries is being able to make the bulk of the story all about the relationship. My previous three vampire books integrated quite a bit of politics or action scenes, and while that was a lot of fun, I enjoyed returning to the other kind of format with Mason and Jessica. The majority of this book focuses on overcoming their personal demons to embrace the one-of-a-kind love they’ve been offered with each other. Jessica has been treated so terribly, and trying to reconcile that brutality at the hands of one vampire with how she feels under Mason’s sensual domination is an emotional struggle. And Mason’s fight to overcome his guilt about Farida’s death turns out to be an even more difficult challenge for them to overcome.

Excerpt from Beloved Vampire:

The Sahara had once been green. Lush, a verdant land supporting civilizations. Then the earth’s orbit changed, the sun came a little closer, and the land altered, becoming a desert that swallowed armies. It had happened three or four thousand years ago, barely a blink in the nine billion year life of Earth, but in that blink, Heaven and Hell had switched places. Had it been cosmic boredom, a need for a different perspective? Life giver, life taker.

Jessica wondered which face the Sahara preferred. Since she’d come here to die, it was a point of interest. Barely two years ago, her body had been vigorous and fertile as well. Now it, too, was a barren skeleton that repelled most sensible life forms. She felt almost at home here.

As the largest desert in the world, this was a place one could walk for days—if one had the constitution of a camel—and see no other human life. But the history of the area was still mapped on this wasteland, if one had trained eyes. Though she’d had to study it primarily from within the walls of her prison, she’d done little else of importance in the past months but study her final destination.

She didn’t really count killing Lord Raithe as important. The vampire who’d forced her to be his servant for over five years, and the reason she was dying now, was relatively nothing in the scheme of things. Creatures lived, creatures died, and their bones became sand like this. They all walked over the remains of their ancestors. At least he’d never torment anyone again. That mattered, though in truth, she’d been sick for so long now, she couldn’t even recall why that had been as important as it had once seemed.

In contrast, Farida had remained significant to her. In the midst of a life so horrible Jess often thought she’d already died and somehow deserved Hell—though she couldn’t recall her crime—Farida had given her a spark of light. It had amazed Jess, discovering the body’s desire to live was stronger than anything, even despair. Maybe that was why she’d connected with a woman who had chosen love and then lost everything.

From the very first moment Jess opened the ancient binding and discovered the written memories of the sheikh’s daughter who had lived over three hundred years ago, a bond had formed between them. Farida had spoken in her memoir passionately, vibrantly, of a love worth any torment.

Between being on the run as a fugitive and hoping she had the strength to keep going the next day, Jess had read her words. Hiding in dank places that only society’s forgotten frequented, often there was nothing else to break her thoughts, except the trickling background of an internal hourglass, the sands of her life running out. Her cells were being subsumed in that flow of sand, as if she were becoming part of a place like Farida’s Sahara. But she was okay with that. There were those who believed that the Sahara would return to greenness, that the cycles of climate change would evolve again, the sun getting less hot and the rains increasing. A different way of life would return.

After Jess killed Raithe, Farida’s journal and the diamonds were the only things worth her life to slip back into his house and retrieve. Maybe even then, in her subconscious, she’d realized where she was going to go and what she was going to do with the short remainder of her life. It was no more fantastic than what her life had been for the past five years. And no one would look for her in the Middle East.

When she’d arrived in the Sahara, she realized that those who wrote of it as a desolate place, devoid of life, didn’t know it. There was life here. Not just in the few peoples and creatures that called it home, but in the ghosts that whispered, finding voice through the movement of the sand, a haunting noise like blowing across the top of a soda bottle. She knew what that sounded like, for she’d done it as a teenager, clustered with her friends on the curb outside the Quik-Stop with soda and Cheetoes, eying the boys that came in after school. Boys who eyed them right back.

God, that was a long time ago. She held those memories to her occasionally like a favorite doll, even as she knew the act was closer to that of a mother holding a dead baby.

The three men she’d paid to accompany her this far thought her a madwoman, of course. But she’d paid them enough to indulge her, and there was nothing to lose, no liability. Take a crazy, dying woman out to a remote part of the desert that wasn’t on any map, and she’d eventually tire of her fantasy of finding the marker for a dead woman’s grave or die. They’d be rich men, either way. She’d shown them the jewels, what would be theirs if they helped her. She thanked whatever capricious Deity watched over fools that she’d had the foresight to take the gems while everyone was still out looking for her. Raithe had had a hoard to rival a dragon’s, so they’d never be missed.

Now, as she rolled the comfort of familiar thoughts through her head, a reminder of where she’d been, where she was going, she looked over the endless stretch of dunes. The breathtaking artistry of the wind upon them rivaled the greatest sculptors of the ages, and the sun collaborated, providing a different view with each degree it descended. But even that beauty couldn’t distract her from the fact night was drawing close. God, she hated darkness. But she fingered the compass in her pocket, reassuring herself. The stars would help her find Farida tonight at last.

Reading the words of that diary made her feel as if she were in Farida’s silken tent, where they cuddled on the pillows as girlfriends, pressed forehead to forehead. In the darkest time of night, Farida whispered in her ear. She’d told Jessica that, while everything in life could be taken away by uncontrollable forces, there was always a choice left. Something overlooked, if one did not let fear overwhelm desire.

Farida’s choice had been an incomparable man. Jessica’s would be where she wanted to die. Closing her eyes, Jessica remembered her favorite diary entry, about the night Farida had met Lord Mason…

* * * * *

I was behind the screen when Prince Haytham entered the tent to speak with my father. My father valued my counsel and often allowed me to do this, perhaps because he knew how very restless I became in a woman’s world. Why does Allah create dreams and appetites, the desire to live free and fierce as a man does, if those things are to be denied a woman’s soul? I have often wondered this.

Then I saw the man with the prince. Those longings, banked always against my responsibilities as my father’s daughter, exploded inside me like the brightness of stars, such that they couldn’t be contained. I bit down so hard on my lip I drew blood, though I knew I must fly, sing, dance…all for him.

He had to be a djinn spun from the desert sand, for never has a man been so beautifully made. Face carved with the sculpted beauty of the dunes, but smooth as watered stone, as if a goddess had created him and then lovingly stroked him, over and over.

When they sat for coffee, he removed his robes, showing he wore the brown riding trousers and white shirt of a European. He lounged back on the pillows, a graceful animal. Though he smiled and listened in that relaxed way of men as coffee was prepared, he reminded me of a desert tiger, for his hair was burnished copper, an animal’s pelt. He had it scraped back from his face, so every magnificent plane was emphasized. My fingers wanted to feel that fall of straight silk, tied back from his shoulders.

His eyes were true amber, like the tiger as well, an almost unnatural brilliance to them, as if he carried the fire of the desert within him. A djinn, as I have said. I heard Prince Haytham say later that he suspected Lord Mason was a British spy, for during the time he stayed with us, he was always gone by dawn, and returned at nightfall. He also spoke our language as well as a native, and his accent was not as precisely bitten off as other Englishmen who have met our camp.

The prince said Lord Mason’s purpose was nothing that concerned us, though I imagined him stepping out of view of our camp and dissolving into a tornado of sand, a desert devil spinning across the dunes. He had too much energy to contain in the body of a mortal man. I imagined that he returned to us at night only when his need to exercise his powers was temporarily sated.

But I need to leave off my fancies and go back to that first time I saw him. As I bit down on my lip and tasted my blood, I must have made a sound despite my efforts, for he looked at me, found me behind the screen. Those tiger’s eyes flickered. I saw his nostrils flare, as if he had my scent, knew every shameful thing I wanted. A passing moment, over in a blink. He shifted his attention away, not disrespecting my father by staring at a woman of his house.

But when he raised his hand to perform the salaam, I drew in another unsteady breath, thinking how those hands would feel on my flesh, compelling my surrender, my obedience, my devotion and love throughout eternity. I knew then. From that very first second, Fate tied a gentle but unbreakable tether around my throat and handed the lead to him. I would follow him, no matter what our end would be.

DC: I’ve heard writers often say their stories take them in surprising directions, or dialogue flows from some unknown place. Is it the same with you? Do your characters surprise you sometimes?

JWH: Oh, all the time. I mentioned earlier how surprised I was when my second erotic romance featured a Female Dominant, when I’d envisioned myself only ever writing Male Doms, because (I thought!) that was what interested me the most. Same for my first male/male erotic romance. Never thought I would write one of those, and Rough Canvas has received all sorts of awards, while remaining a personal favorite. I’ve decided what matters is the characters – if I love them, the dynamic doesn’t really matter. The story will come to life.

And sometimes the research you do will take you in an unexpected direction, or give you that surprising dialogue flow. When I researched the Aussie language, and started writing Dev’s character, it was such an easy mesh, his laid back personality with the Aussie’isms and cadence of a 1950s bushman.

DC: Do you ever argue with your characters while you’re writing? Who usually wins?

JWH: If I’m smart, they win, because they have a more direct connection with the muse. Seriously, the “heart” you sense in a story is pure instinct. You can outline and read all the craft books, and that’s going to give you the framework to do all the right things for your story, but it’s like building Pinocchio. You have to get the skills to build the puppet, and when you do, he looks great. However, for him to live, magic has to happen, and that comes when you can let go of all the external distractions (Deadlines, Will my editor like it this way? Does it match market trends? Etc) and let the characters take the lead. If I’m arguing with my characters it’s because I’m holding the reins too tight. Today was a prime example. I had a scene that just wasn’t working, and then I realized I was telling it from the wrong point of view. I shifted it to my heroine, and suddenly the scene flowed like poetry.

DC: Let’s go the contemporary route for a minute and talk about your Knights of the Boardroom series. Can you give us an overall look at the series first?

JWH: The first book in the Knights of the Board Room series came from one of my own personal fantasies (laughter), regarding a woman who is ravished in a board room by a handful of handsome, dominant executives, who treat her with protective yet relentless sensuality. (Note: Since I’ve worked in corporate environments, I can tell you this is DEFINITELY a fantasy – grin.)

However, since Matt engineered this scenario in order to win over the emotionally closed-off Savannah, that meant at the conclusion of the story, the other four men didn’t have a forever love. I’m a fierce advocate of the romance HEA, so I knew that wouldn’t be the last I’d hear of these guys. Therefore we had Lucas’s story last year in the Unlaced anthology (Controlled Response), and in February 2010 we’ll have Peter’s story Honor Bound. In each story, there is at least one pivotal scene that involves all of them overwhelming the senses of our chosen heroine.

DC: Each of the stories in this series is a novella. What was the reason behind the decision to make these editions into shorter stories for the series? Can you give us a quick look into the next novella due out in February 2010, Honor Bound in the Laced with Desire anthology?

JWH: The reason? I’m an idiot. Or my publishers got their chuckles from inviting the author who’s known for writing extraordinarily long erotic romances to be part of an anthology, in order to see how far over word count I would go. Snort. Seriously, in all of these cases, I was invited to participate in an anthology with a wonderful cadre of other authors, and of course an anthology is always a not-to-be-missed opportunity to expose a new group of readers to your work. I’ve gone embarrassingly over word count every time, but fortunately, it’s always worked out and my editors/publishers have been very kind. And perhaps the other authors were relieved to be able to keep theirs shorter (though I think in Unlaced, we all went over – laughter).

Honor Bound is the one I had the most trouble keeping to a reasonable length. Even when I was done, I wanted to put about 10-20k more into it, but my critique partners and editor felt it worked out well, so I’m hoping my readers will like it. The last two in the series I hope to do as standalones (Ben and Jon’s stories).

Honor Bound gave me the opportunity to research someone for whom I have a great deal of respect – the U.S. soldier. Both my hero and heroine are serving in the military – Peter in the National Guard, and Dana in the regular Army. They have a brief, very intense encounter at a BDSM club the week before she ships out for an Iraq tour. Unfortunately, a terrible war injury incapacitates Dana, and though she never expects to see Peter again, he tracks her down and must convince her to trust him in the deepest, most absolute way a submissive must trust her Master, to give their love a chance again. This is also my first book that has a handicapped character (Dana is blinded and left mostly deaf due to her injury), but erotic romance often deeply explores the many sensual zones a woman has.. This story provided Peter the opportunity to enhance Dana’s experience through receptors other than hearing and sight.

DC: What is sure to distract you from sitting down and working/writing?

JWH: Pet needs, chores, all the things I’m always scrambling to stay on top of so they don’t drown me. I usually have to make a concerted effort to let everything beyond the pet and husbandly needs get done after the writing.

Oh, and writing-related email. Though it can eat up my time, it’s a good sign, because I’ve been getting an increasing amount of fanmail and promo requests in the past couple years. This is augmented of course by the interactions I get through my blog, Facebook and Shelfari. I’m a firm believer that every reader who takes the time to email me deserves a personal response, because I’m always so delighted to hear their thoughts about my work. However, to balance these needs with the writing, I’m still playing with different systems, like having a cut off time in the morning and then the rest has to wait for one of the three nights a week I spend on fanmail, promo work, etc. When I get under a tight deadline, I don’t take that morning time. I sit down at 8am and start working on the writing right away. I do the email that night, whatever night it is.

It just occurred to me you might mean “personal distractions”, but I guess I just indicated that most of my time is writing-related (laughter). However, I can admit to a real weakness – during my breakfast and lunch break, if something I’ve DVR’ed is really good, I might have trouble stopping it at the cut off time, and go 10-20 minutes over to finish up the episode, etc. I love ER reruns, and am a passionate fan of Burn Notice, though I typically watch those with my husband at night. I’m also a huge movie nut, and have about 400 DVDs so far. If I pop one in to watch, even if I’ve seen it before, I might have to wait through the kissing parts, telling myself it will be inspirational to the day’s writing (grin – any excuse).

DC: What has been your favorite book cover from all of your releases and why?

JWH: That’s a tough one, because I’ve been truly blessed by the cover fairies. Some incredible artists work at both the Ellora’s Cave and the Berkley houses. I think concept-wise, A Witch’s Beauty is my favorite. Coming up with a cover idea that reflected the story for that one was difficult, and when I turned it in, I thought they would probably decide it wasn’t doable. I was prepared for them to come up with some stock cover photo art idea. Instead, Don Sipley exceeded my expectations. He captured the darkness and danger of David and Mina’s relationship, as well as the bond between them, perfectly. He’s an amazing artist and has done pretty much all my artwork for Berkley, I believe.

DC: How about your least favorite? Why?

JWH: I’ve never been a big fan of the “photograph” covers. They remind me of adult porn book covers that cater more to a male clientele (think the 70s, Debbie Does Dallas). I like the more artistic/graphic covers like those that have been done for the Mermaid and Vampire series, or Holding the Cards from the Nature of Desire series, or Behind the Mask for Knights of the Board Room (which I think is photograph, but it’s done so artistically, you don’t really notice). And the early Poser model covers, particularly the ones that showed the Barbie-like faces, were truly horrendous. Of course, I think everything agrees with that, and a lot of those are being replaced over time – by the photograph covers, but it’s still an improvement!

DC: Erotic territory is up next with the Nature of Desire series. There’s six books in the series, with the last being published in 2007. Will there be any more forthcoming? Can you give us a look at the series as a whole?

JWH: Yes, absolutely there will be more forthcoming. My only limitation is time. My contracted paranormal works (the vampires/mermaids) have been keeping me pretty busy, but Brendan and Chloe (two secondary characters from Ice Queen/Mirror of My Soul) are being written whenever I can find time for them. My hope is/was to turn them in by the end of this summer to Ellora’s Cave, but I may have to fall back on my second goal – by the end of the year. I’m about done with the first draft, but it’s going to take some polishing because I’ve had to write it in fits and starts between other things.

I love all my characters and series. Writers often say stories are like their children. It’s not a matter of loving one more than another. It’s appreciating the special significance of each one in your life. That said, there has been something very memorable about my Nature of Desire series characters. I’ve seen that reflected in the number of readers I have for this series who aren’t even fans of the BDSM genre. The things the characters face have to do with our deepest fears and feelings toward love and commitment, trust and surrender. While I’ve always explored that in all my series, the characters that have acted out those issues in these books have stayed with me, such that I often go back and read parts of their stories for inspiration in my current writing.

Part of it is we cover power/control exchange from many different aspects. The series featured two Female Dominant/male submissive works (Holding the Cards and Natural Law), a Male Dom/male submissive work (Rough Canvas), and then there’s my personal favorite, a Male Dom/Fem Domme pairing, Marguerite and Tyler’s story in Ice Queen/Mirror of My Soul. There’s even one in the series where a secondary character who was the “bad guy” in two of the books got his own book (Mistress of Redemption). And I don’t mean anti-hero – Jonathan was a man who’d made truly bad choices, one of which landed him in prison for five years. In his book, he’s just getting out, and it’s the Mistress who picks him up who has to get him back on the right track, or the consequences will be even more dire than he’s yet experienced.

Many of these books explore the BDSM dynamic in real life (outside the club) relationships, and deal with how the pertinent couples handle obstacles together that have nothing to do with their sexual relationships, so they are very well-rounded stories in that sense. I’ve received some of my most frank reviews, honest personal reactions from reviewers, on the books in this series, so a lot of times I send people to the review pages attached to each of these books to get a sense of why these books have remained so special to so many. (Note, I’m currently still updating some of these review pages from my recent web conversion, so not all are live yet – hope to get them done soon!)

DC: How do you feel your male or female characters have evolved over your career? Do you think you write them differently now than you did when you started?

JWH: I think they are somewhat different. I’ve only been published for nine years now, but when I read Make Her Dreams Come True (the oldest) versus Vampire’s Claim (the newest), I do see the changes. I think those changes are a reflection of my own personal growth. I have more confidence in who and what I am, which you hope to see in yourself as you age, as you resolve old baggage and move on, learning to be an adult (which I think is a life long process – laughter). I’ve had life experiences which changed how my characters reacted to the conflicts/obstacles in their life.

DC: Is there a genre you haven’t tackled but would like to try?

JWH: Yes and no. I want to return to the epic fantasy romance story with which I started my publishing career, Guardian of the Continuum. It had a short digital life with one of the early epubs, and then I shelved it for a later/more appropriate time. I had plans for it to be a five-book series and have written the second book already (which is a historic fantasy, set in the Golden Age of Piracy). I’d like to update that first book and remarket the series. While often a writer shelves her first works as good life experiences and never goes back to them, I have a feeling this series was meant to be – it’s just a matter of finding the right time for it, and the right editor/publisher who will believe in it.

DC: What advice would you give to your younger self?

JWH: We all know advice to our younger selves is wasted, because we never listen (laughter). The other drawback is, if we did listen to that Monday morning quarterbacking advice, we might change the directions we took, and perhaps this is how/where we were meant to go. Like the Colin Raye song says “I wouldn’t change a thing about my life, wrong turns I had to take / Back in those crazy years, those mistakes, they had to be right, if they led me to you.” (paraphrase). However, all that aside, if my younger self was capable of listening, and it wouldn’t change things in an adverse direction, I would say, “Take time to savor every moment of what you’re doing, where you’re going. Every quiet moment with yourself, a friend, a family member, a stranger, every lesson that you learn. Remember that the gods are watching and experiencing your journey, and you should, too, because living this life is the only true certainty we have.

DC: Any way you can choose a favorite of all of your books?

JWH: Er, no. LOL I’ve tried to do this before, and usually the poor interviewer has to listen to me rummage through all my titles and tell her why I love each one. There is some truth to the idea that the current work-in-process is always an author’s favorite, because that’s the one she needs to believe in the most at that moment in time. So for right now, it would be Vampire’s Mistress (tentative title). It’s a ménage a trois, featuring Gideon, a vampire hunter and Jacob’s brother from Mark of the Vampire Queen. In escaping his personal demons, he crosses paths with Anwyn, Mistress of a BDSM club. They have an unexpected connection one night, but then harm befalls Anwyn where she is forcibly turned into a vampire. That’s when Gideon learns that she has a silent partner, the mysterious male vampire Daegan Rei. As he and Daegan work together to help Anwyn adjust to her new circumstances, the three of them start drawing closer together and Gideon struggles with the fact he may become inextricably bound to two vampires who can’t do without him.

DC: You’ve got a number of short stories featured on your site. If a reader hasn’t tried a Joey W. Hill book before, which short story would you recommend she start with to introduce her to your work?

JWH: This is another one of those questions where I’ll end up recommending them all if I go on about them too long (grin). However, one of my personal favorites is The Crush – just a sweet little moment-in-time romance, but it highlights my style pretty well. Some of the stories were written years ago (they’re ordered from newest to oldest), and though it is one of the older ones, I am very fond of Halloween Knight as well, which is actually a young adult featuring a highly honorable young man named Sam who gets the chance to be a hero to the girl he loves on Halloween night.

DC: If you were a book, what would your blurb be?

JWH: Get up, walk dogs, write, take care of dogs, write, exercise, do promo work, return email, kiss husband, go to sleep, start over again. Here’s a day in the life of Joey W. Hill, sure to either make your head spin, your hair fall out, or put you into a comatose stupor. A book that one reviewer claimed was “The most exciting book of the year!” Of course, it was January 1, and we think the reviewer was bribed by the author…

In short, like most authors, the stories are far more exciting and interesting than the person behind them! (laughter)

DC: What would be your “voice’s” tagline?

JWH: “Erotic romance that shines a light on the reader’s soul”. Regardless of the sexual orientation/interests of my characters, my stories seem to touch the common needs and desires of many of those who are kind enough to pick up my books. I also have an official tagline on my blog, “Nothing you would expect, but everything you could want”, because I’ve heard from a lot of readers that the type of erotic romance/BDSM I write is unexpected, but touches them deeply. I hope I’ll always get that reaction!

DC: If you had never become an author, what do you think you would be doing right now?

JWH: I’m a great administrator/office manager. I love taking care of people that way, and it was what I was doing before I went to full time writing. However, my favorite all time job was working as a kennel worker for a humane society. Making the dogs and cats happy and comfortable, ensuring they were safe and received affection and attention—that was a win-win job. And it only paid $20 a week!

DC: What’s on the horizon for Joey W. Hill?

JWH: Did we cover the whole read, write, sleep, eat, thing? (grin) Seriously, I’m working on Gideon’s story now (mentioned above), as well as Brendan and Chloe’s story for the Nature of Desire series. After that, my last contracted work of the year with Berkley is another vampire story. This will feature a character introduced in Vampire’s Claim, Lady Daniela’s maid and second-mark servant, Elisa. She ends up taking some children who were forcibly turned to vampires to a big cat sanctuary (which may be in America or in Kenya, I haven’t yet decided) run by a reclusive male vampire named Malachi. It’s hoped that he can help her figure out how to help the children survive in the very Darwinian vampire world, but in the process, he helps to heal and win Elisa’s heart as well.

As I mentioned earlier, if Berkley decides they want more of the vampires, we’ll do a third book featuring Jacob and Lyssa, where Lyssa explores the Fae side of her parentage, and the powers she has in that regard. I’ll be doing some heavy duty Faery research for that one (right now I’m immersed in Born Free, Big Cat Diary and visits to predator cat sanctuaries!).

I’ve been keeping myself fresh by writing/serializing vignettes for my blog, featuring characters from my full length works. Right now the one I’m running in parts is “Tyler Tied Up”, featuring Tyler and Marguerite from Ice Queen/Mirror of My Soul. I’ve also been given future vignette ideas featuring Jacob and Lyssa, as well as the mermaids and their angels. So I anticipate continuing to do that.

If you’d like to stay on top of everything happening with me, I send out a monthly newsletter that often has early peek excerpts from upcoming works, and there’s always a contest. There’s a big one this month for a signed copy of Beloved Vampire and a pair of silver/tiger eye earrings (entry deadline is July 31). If you go to my website, just click on the Guestbook link. I’ll add you to the guestbook and send you that latest issue so you can enter the contest. And don’t forget to check out all the free excerpts and short stories on the site. I love to get visitors.

Thanks for having me here!

Lightning Round:

- dark or milk chocolate? – Dark
- smooth or chunky peanut butter? – Smooth
- heels or flats? – Sneakers
- coffee or tea? – Tea (Celestial Seasonings!)
- summer or winter? – Both
- mountains or beach? – Beach
- mustard or mayonnaise? – Mustard
- flowers or candy? – Candy
- pockets or purse? – Purse
- Pepsi or Coke? – Cherry zero (Coke!)
- ebook or print? – Both!

Because we still like seeing all the different answers:

1. What is your favorite word? – According to how many thousands of times I have to edit it out, “just”!!
2. What is your least favorite word? – Penis, vagina or fart (couldn’t decide – equally dislike)
3. What turns you on creatively, spiritually or emotionally? – Great music, movies and books
4. What turns you off creatively, spiritually or emotionally? – Negative people
5. What sound or noise do you love? – My husband and animals snoring – very peaceful
6. What sound or noise do you hate? – Smacking/eating noises
7. What is your favorite curse word? – Fuck
8. What profession other than your own would you like to attempt? – Exotic dancer
9. What profession would you not like to do? – Reporter
10. If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates? – “It’s okay, you can rest now.” I’m terrified it’s going to be “Where have you been?! I’ve got so much for you to do!”

DC: Joey, thank you for spending the day with us! It’s been fun!

For those of you who know what I write, it won’t be a surprise to know that I like my books sexy. But it’s not essential.

  Recently I read two books that were kisses-only by one author I already know I like, namely, Trish Wylie’s His L.A. Cinderella and Kate Hewitt’s The Sheikh’s Love Child (both recent releases). I’m a huge fan of Trish Wylie who is doing her best to bring the Harlequin lines up to date, trying to disperse the tycoon/mistress image that is dragging the image of the Presents/Modern line back forty years or more. (Btw, Harlequin, I get the books DESPITE the titles, not because of them – more later, on that, maybe).

The Wylie was a delightful read, charming with characters you can like and believe. The heroine abandoned her career as a scriptwriter when the first film she wrote with her partner and lover bombed at the box office. He carried on and found success, she went on to teach and they separated. He brings her back to write a sequel to what turned out to be a sleeper, and they fall in love all over again. I really enjoyed it.

Kate Hewitt is a new writer to me and while the book isn’t without its faults – it’s one of the rugby books, and as a rugby fan, they make me squirm – it worked. I nearly stopped reading at the first chapter, when the whiney hero feels so sorry for himself I wanted to slap him silly, but I did like the heroine when I read her, and as it turned out, the hero did have a reason to be so miserable. This has a secret baby theme, but I went past it, and while there were some inconsistencies, the central characters were strong and well-defined.

But for me, at any rate, there was a big hole in the middle of each book. No sex. No, I’m not shallow, I honestly believe that sex is a very important part of any adult romantic relationship. It needs to work in bed. You can have love without sex, you can have sex without love, but in the kind of relationship described in romance novels, sex is essential. I don’t even need it described in great detail.

It was entirely absent in the Wylie book, and while I could understand why she kept pushing him away, in the end it became a little TSTL and even tiresome. With the Hewitt, there was a consummated relationship, but it was in a kind of “oh well, we got that bit over with” way, although the sexual tension throughout the book was well described. I wanted to know why and how.

For a woman, sex changes everything, one way or the other and it does for many men, too. Good or bad, it’s an important part of the relationship. From getting down and dirty with each other, to the pillow talk, to the necessary intimacies that make a relationship real, I missed it in these books. It was like eating the icing without the cake.

In these books I loved the way the couples rebuilt their relationships, but I wanted more, even if it was just a “reconnecting in that way made all the difference” kind of vague description. Sex is there, it’s the elephant in the room, and when the epublishers finally opened the door and examined that part of it, it opened romance to a new world and a new sensibility. Authors could finally examine in detail that central part of a relationship, what is right about it, and what is wrong.

One of the most important parts of the best books about BDSM describe how one person finds fulfillment through a particular kind of sex, novels by the likes of Joey W. Hill and Doreen Orsini and in so doing, find the person who can help him or her achieve it. It’s about souls connecting as well as bodies, and I think that was what I missed in these two books.

Welcome once again to Duck Chat!

Today we’re talking to Sophie Renwick, who some of you may know as Charlotte Featherstone. Sophie writes fun, light, and erotic contemporaries and dark and sexy paranormals, and you are in for a treat with her debut book, Hot In Here. It’s a friends-to-lover story that takes you for an up-and-down ride through lust and romance while also sating the taste buds. Be sure to pick it up! She is also working on her first book in her paranormal series, the Annwyn Chronicles, so you will not have to wait without having a Sophie Renwick bookin hand for too long.

Sophie lives on the north shore of Lake Erie with her husband and their daughter. She loves to cook and loves Lisa Kleypas‘ Sebastian from Devil in Winter, as well as snowstorms, early mornings, high heels, and ethnic food.  Her next book is out later this year, and since she’s living her dream, she’s always writing to bring her readers more of what they love to read.

In fact, Sophie is on deadline right now, but she will be stopping by to respond to any comments or questions you have for her. She’s also giving away two copies of Hot In Here, so make that comment or question good! Now let’s chat with Sophie.

DUCK CHAT: Sophie, you have a couple of new series we have to tell readers about. Let’s start with your Annwyn series. First tell us the idea behind the series, how it came about, and where you’ll be taking it in the future.

SOPHIE RENWICK: The series came about during a phone call from my editor. I had put in a proposal and she called the next day saying they couldn’t buy it because an author at the house had a new series coming out that was similar. I was bummed. But my editor said that the publisher was really eager to get a ‘dark and sexy shifter series.’ So we chatted for a bit, and I thought, what about using my Scottish background to make a series. So I picked Scottish or Celtic type animals to use, the Hart, the Raven, the Selkie, etc., and used them in the way the ancient Celts did. I added the Druid/Gothic feel because it’s an area of interest for me. I added the element of an overarching quest, and sinister magician, and the Annwyn Chronicles were born!

My editor has been very involved along the way, and it was really fun to throw in stories and images from my childhood. Plus, I got to research something that I’ve always been interested in.

I think what makes this paranormal series different is the Fantasy elements, the quest, and the fact that the Destroyer, who is an apprentice to the villain, is actually one of the characters in the series. But like most anti-heroes, something has made him turn. The identity of the person will be revealed in the last book.

I’m really, really excited about this series and it was so much fun building the world. I hope readers enjoy it.

DC: If you could retire any question and never, ever have it asked again, what would it be? Feel free to answer it.

SR: I think it’d have to be ‘how do you come up with your sex scenes?” The honest answer is, ‘they stem from the characters and their desires and conflicts.’ When I’ve given that answer I’ve had many people try to probe deeper, or some have an expression of disappointment on their face, like they thought they were going to get to hear something really juicy about my personal life, which, for the record, is not as remotely exciting as my stories!

DC: The first story in the series, Yuletide Enchantment, will appear in the A Highlander Christmas anthology, which also features Dawn Halliday and Cindy Miles and is due out in November of this year. Would you give us a look inside this novella?

SR: I was thrilled when my editor at NAL asked me if I wanted to participate in this project. It was a historical anthology, and she knew that I wrote historicals for Harlequin Spice under the name Charlotte Featherstone. We talked about what I would write and she thought we should try to use it as a platform for the Annwyn Chronicles. I was writing the first draft of Velvet Haven at the time (book 1 of the Annwyn Chronicles) and decided to use the historical novella in Highlander Christmas as a prequel to Velvet Haven.

Yuletide Enchantment is the name of the novella and involves the uncle of the hero from Velvet Haven. Daegan is his name, and he is co-ruler of the Celtic Otherworld, Annwyn. He falls in love with a mortal woman which is taboo, and thus thrusts Annwyn into the Dark Times, which is an era of imbalance and impurity. I really had fun with that story and I hope people will read it and be intrigued by the world building and the Druid/Celtic aspect of the series. Bran, the hero from Velvet Haven is in the novella, too! He makes a sacrifice for his uncle, which then becomes the focus of his book.

DC: I’ve heard writers often say their stories take them in surprising directions, or dialogue flows from some unknown place. Is it the same with you? Do your characters surprise you sometimes?

SR: This happens to me all the time! I’m a character-driven writer and usually do follow them where they lead me. Sometimes I’m surprised, and then sometimes I’m relieved because they seem to ‘fix’ a problem or enhance a scene. I actually love it when characters do that!

DC: We’ve mentioned Velvet Haven, the first full book in the series and it’s slated to be released in March 2010. Can you give us a little sneak peek into Bran’s story?

SR: Here’s the official blurb (and I’ve added the sexy cover art for Velvet Haven! It might change a little, but not much. The guy on the cover is very much like Bran. I love it!)

Hidden from mortals for all eternity, Annwyn, the Otherworld, is home to shapeshifters, wraiths and dragons. But in a nightclub called Velvet Haven, desire brings humans and immortals together…

Built atop the mystic passageway to Annwyn, the gothic nightclub Velvet Haven has seen its share of lost souls—both mortal and immortal. It is here that Bran, the shapeshifter king of the Sidhe, searches for his brother, who is ensnared by a centuries-old curse. When a vision foretells his own death, he knows his time to find Carden is running out.

For help he must turn to Mairi, a mortal woman with an unusual aura. Bran has never liked humans, other than using their sexual pleasure to restore his magic energy. But with Mairi everything is different. Her lush curves and teasing caresses enflame him like no Sidhe has ever done. He has no idea that the woman he’s falling for holds the key to his destruction – or his salvation.

Now, here’s a bit more. The Dark Times come to Annwyn during the period that Bran is searching for his brother. The Dark Arts which are Death and Sex magick have once more appeared in Annwyn, and Sidhe are being put death in black magick rituals. So Bran, as King, is trying to find the Mage responsible while dodging his feelings for the mortal Mairi. His journey leads him to the mortal realm which is presided over by a Fallen Angel. The Mage is also performing his rituals on mortals which thus unites the ruler of Annwyn, and the ruler of the mortal realm. Bran’s journey also leads him back time and time again to Mairi.

There is an overarching quest through the series to find a flame and an amulet which together forge a key that will lead them to the Mage who is known as the Soul Stealer. But the Soul Stealer has something up his sleeve. He’s recruiting an apprentice, and it’s one of the characters of the series.

The book is dark and sexy, and while it’s for the Heat line, which is billed as erotica, it’s definitely a romance!

I hope to put up some excerpts on my website soon, and as well I’ll be putting a glossary up and some tidbits about Druid religion and the practice of Death and Sex Magick, so keep checking back!

DC: I read on your site you had a Scottish upbringing. Please tell everyone a little about that.

SR: My family is very proud to be of Scots ancestry, and, as a child, my parents and grandparents would always tell stories of faeries and midgies. In fact, when we would get out of bed when we were supposed to sleeping, my parents would yell up, ‘get back to bed before the faeries come and steal you away!’ Faeries scared us!

The idea of incorporating some of those stories into books really interested me. The Highlander is iconic in historical romance, but I wanted to bring in some of the witchcraft and Celtic mythology of Scotland.

DC: How many books do you have planned in the Annwyn series?

SR: There are a lot of characters in this series. Some are more fleshed out in my mind than others. I don’t know if all the characters will have a book. But right now, there are six characters I’d like to write about and whose story I already know, the first character being Bran.

DC: Do you ever argue with your characters while you’re writing? Who usually wins?

SR: I used to. Then I realized when I did that and bullied my way to win, the writing felt stilted and stale. So I no longer do that.

Actually, if I’m having a hard time knowing where to open a book or doing a scene, I sit down and look at the computer screen and say, “Okay, whoever comes to me first, I’ll write, and I’ll write whatever he/she says.”

I did this with Velvet Haven. I originally started the book with Mairi in the Goth club. It never felt right. So I sat down, did my exercise, and boom, Bram came, took me to Annwyn, inside his magick circle during a ritual. I loved it and knew that was the right beginning.

The advantage of doing this exercise is that it allows you deep point of view for a compelling opening.

I did the same thing with Charlotte’s Addicted. The prologue where Lindsay is discussing opium was that exercise.

DC: Next is your Ryder Brothers series. Hot in Here was released a couple of days ago. Can you tell us, first, how the series came about, and then share a little with us about Bryce and Jenna?

SR: I was at my parents and she had a Ricardo cooking magazine on her kitchen table. She’s a great cook, and Ricardo is cute! I made the comment, “Oh wouldn’t it be nice to come home to some hunk who had made you supper?” That was the moment that Bryce was born.

The characters just seemed to evolve, and I used my small, rural upbringing as a base. I grew up in Southwestern Ontario which is known as Canada’s bread basket. We have orchards, wineries, farms — you name it, we got it. We also have tons of food festivals. Cherry Fest, Apple Harvest, etc… Those were good times, and I used those ideas and that small town feel as a backdrop for Hot In Here.

I also liked the idea of three bad boy brothers, and three good girl sisters and watching what happened when they came together.

So, Bryce is, while having grown up rural, a big city guy who’s a famous chef. He gets misquoted in a magazine, and his future business empire looks very shaky. Jenna is his best friend. She’s a farm girl who now lives in the city. She runs a marketing company, but she still has those small town ideals. Bryce recruits Jenna to help him out with his reputation, and the sparks fly. It’s really just a fun, very hot romance. And I can’t tell you how much I enjoyed writing that book!

Here’s that special treat – an excerpt from Hot In Here:

Bryce couldn’t think. Hell, he couldn’t breathe. Watching Jenna saunter away in that pretty little chemise was playing havoc with his synapses. He didn’t even blink as he watched her walked away. The ecru- colored lace skimming just beneath the luscious curve of her cheeks commanded his attention, not to mention fueled his imagination.

She had the finest ass he’d ever seen. Full and round, begging to be cupped by his hand.
Shit! What was he thinking, cupping her ass? This was Jenna. Safe, little Jenna. The friend he hadn’t had any sexual thoughts about. Well, not since…Okay. He finally allowed the dirty truth to come up. There had been a few times when he’d awaken from a vivid dream, his sheets tangled and wet, his brain burning with images of him and Jenna.

But he’d always laughed it off. Always thought it absurd. He used to tell himself that the dreams were about Jenna because she was the only woman he really knew well. They were friends, had spent a lot of time together. Naturally she’d invade his dreams.

Pressing forward, he leaned over the counter and watched Jenna. Her profile was just as stunning as the back view. Her breasts were just as hot as her ass, and the way they bounced and moved as she reached for the blanket that lay across the back of the sofa had him groaning.

Man, he was hard. And completely fucking losing it.

Jenna was a friend. He wanted that friendship. Depended on it. No way was he going to toss a decade of friendship down the toilet because his subconscious all of a sudden decided to cough up a few instances of past wet dreams involving Jenna.

He couldn’t imagine his life without Jenna in it. She had always been there, to talk to and hang with. He liked just calling her up for no reason and chatting. He liked how they laughed at the same things. If he couldn’t have that anymore, if he ruined the relationship by making it all awkward and heavy with sexual shit, he didn’t know what he’d do.

But what about when she finds Mr. Right, the insistent voice in his head asked. How much do you think he’s going to tolerate your phone calls and late-night visits? Probably about as well as he tolerated the thought of Jenna wearing that skimpy nightie for another man—including Tyson.

God, he didn’t even want to go there. His emotions and thoughts were all over the map tonight and he couldn’t understand why. What was it about Jenna today? What was it about her walk, the way her ass moved, that had him wanting to risk their friendship by taking it into the bedroom? And what was it about her that suddenly had him thinking how damn nice it would be to always have this, this closeness with her?

The relationship word suddenly crept onto his radar and he panicked. Then, thank god, Jenna’s voice squelched the thought before it could become a full blown visual of a picket fence.

“Movie’s starting,” she called from the living room.

“I’m on it,” he answered back, not moving, just watching as she sat on the couch and crossed her legs. They weren’t overly long, but man, they were shapely. The kind that would feel really good and soft wrapped around him. The kind of shapely, womanly flesh he hadn’t felt in all his other girlfriends.

He heard the Psychedelic Furs singing “Pretty In Pink,” and he got his ass moving. Looking through the cupboards, he found two bowls and a couple of spoons, and tore into the still-steaming dessert.

Inhaling the aroma, he savored it, hoping to hell she liked it. This was an untested concoction he’d just created. And poor Jenna was the guinea pig.

Carrying the bowls, he hit the switch with his elbow, killing the light spilling from the kitchen. Candles glowed on the coffee table, and the light from the television screen made it bright enough for them to see.

“Mmm, what’s this?” Jenna asked as she reached out for a bowl. “Smells delicious.”

“Just something I cooked up in honor of your twenty-eighth birthday.”

Jenna wrinkled her nose. “Let’s not talk numbers tonight.”

“Deal,” he said, settling back against the leather sofa. “As long as that also includes my numbers and that plan of yours.”

“Absolutely.”

“God, it’s been forever since I’ve seen this movie. Remember how you loved Blaine?”
“Yeah,” she said, blushing.

“I never got that, why you found him so hot. His hair really looked terrible in that prom scene.”

Jenna laughed. “You always say that.”

“Well, it did.”

“I’m sure you had the hots for Molly Ringwald. All the guys did.”

“I didn’t.”

“Oh, the blonde then, the one dancing around in her underwear?”

“Definitely not her. I liked Andie, actually. Not Molly. But the character of Andie.”

Jenna shot him a sideways glance. “She was an outcast and kind of quirky, don’t you think?”

“What’s wrong with quirky?”

“Nothing.” A strange expression flickered across her face before she picked up her spoon and motioned to the bowl. “So, what do we have here?”

“Oh, just a little white chocolate and cream, and caramel filled chocolate squares, with some egg bread I had laying around. I suppose you’d call it chocolate caramel bread pudding.”

“I love bread pudding. I haven’t had a pudding like this since I left home. Although I know my mom never made anything this decadent.”

Bryce found himself grinning, filled with an absurd adolescent feeling of giddiness. He was always like this when someone waxed on about his cooking. He was even more giddy, he realized, when that someone was Jenna.

Jenna’s mom was a phenomenal cook, and Bryce knew that to wow Jenna was a difficult task. She was clearly wowed now, though. She was closing her eyes, savoring the sweet smell wafting up from the bowl.

She dug into the custard mixture with her spoon and was about to raise it to her mouth, when he wrapped his fingers around her wrist. “Wait.” She looked at him, and all of a sudden his heart did this weird flopping thing.

“What?” she asked, her voice so soft and quiet and so very feminine.

“I…” he licked his lips and pressed closer to her. “I just wanted to say Happy birthday.” He bent to kiss her cheek, something he’d done numerous times in their friendship. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Instead, he cupped her cheek and brought her forward, dragging his mouth against the curve of her ear and down lower to her jaw. God, she smelled good. And she felt good, so soft against his hand and mouth.

“Happy birthday,” he said once more, kissing the corner of her mouth, then he pulled away, horrified by his actions and wondering what she was going to say.

But true to Jenna form, she saved his ego by not making a big deal out of his lost control. Instead she smiled and pointed at the bowl with the tip of her spoon. “So what do you call this?”

“It needs a name. If it’s any good, that is.”

She smiled and raised a spoonful to her lips. Catching his gaze, she slid a bit of the steaming pudding into her mouth. With a groan, she closed her eyes. “Good? Bryce, this is awesome. This is…” she blushed and looked away.

He put his bowl down on the coffee table and cupped her cheek. “Tell me what you were gonna say.”

She wouldn’t meet his gaze. Bryce saw some struggle waged in her eyes before she lifted her lashes and looked fully at him.

“This is so good, it could be sex on a plate.”

His heart went into overdrive. Pressing closer, Bryce watched her take another bite. “Yeah?” he asked, his voice curiously hoarse.

“Yeah,” she replied in a rush of breath.

Her breasts pushed against the pink satin, her nipples pressing against the bodice. He watched as a lace strap slid down her shoulder. He reached out, hooking his finger beneath it, knowing he should slide it back onto her shoulder, but wanting to lower it, wanting to expose her breast—needing to feel all that soft flesh in his hand.

Her breath seemed to hitch, and so did his. What was he doing? Hell, what was she thinking, looking up at him like that?

“Do you want a bite?” she asked, her voice a little shy and tremulous.

He swallowed—hard. His fingers were still beneath the strap of her chemise, still frozen, immobilized against her soft skin. They started to move then, to brush the soft downy skin of her upper arm. His body heated as he felt the first flush of her goosebumps erupt beneath his fingertips.

“I want to watch you eat,” he said, feeling his erection harden even more.

She took another bite that was laden with chocolate and caramel. He watched, his mouth dry as she spooned the delicacy into her mouth and closed her eyes in blissful surrender.
What would it be like to experience that sweetness as it coated her lips, her tongue? What would it be like to feed her and have her feed him, to taste that warm liquid chocolate as it dribbled its way over her breasts and belly?

Like a voyeur, he watched her eat, conscious of the way his body hardened and his lips parted as if he were eating each and every bite with her.

He wanted her spread on the table like a meal for him to devour at his leisure. He saw himself seated, Jenna spread atop the table, his tongue licking away the sweet rivers of chocolate as she moaned and begged him to eat—other, more pleasurable parts of her body.

Her gaze locked with his, and she held the silver spoon which was overflowing with custard and chocolate out to him. Unblinkingly, he sat forward and wrapped his fingers around her wrist. He put the dessert in his mouth, and didn’t taste the rich chocolate, or the sweet caramel–the only taste he had was that of desire. The sweet, heady elixir was swimming in his mouth.

“Well?” she asked.

This time, he heard the breathless pant of desire in her voice, saw the flicker of awakening in her eyes. He swallowed slowly, then holding her gaze, he brought his mouth to hers until his lips brushed her lower one.

“Taste me, Jenna.”

DC: What is sure to distract you from sitting down and working/writing?

SR: Unfortunately, I’m not the most disciplined writer. I tried to make this my new year’s resolution, but, alas, it’s kind of fallen by the wayside! The truth is, if I’m not consumed by a scene or dialogue playing out in my mind or a very tight deadline looming over my head, I’m can be distracted by anything! I have to change that! Lol!

DC: Trey’s story is next in the series. Would you tell our readers about it, when it’s due out, and maybe a sneak peek to whet the appetite?

SR: Unfortunately, Trey’s book is not scheduled yet. The publisher was looking for something in his story, and it wasn’t really where I wanted to take Trey. My agent is going to be shopping his story to other publishers. I’m disappointed, but already I’ve gotten lots of reader email which say, “I’m dying for Trey’s book.” I’m keeping them all, and I’ll forward them to my editor. Never know. It might convince the publisher to put his book out! This is, unfortunately, something that happens in writing. The publishing industry is a business, and I respect that. Likewise, the publisher respected my creative vision. So that’s how the Annwyn series came about. I think it’s an amicable solution. And both sides are happy.

And, I swear, I haven’t given up on Trey. I adore him. He’s so dark and tortured. I have 75pgs written of his story, and have decided that if it never sells, I’ll post it on my website as a serial installment and free read! Trey will get his day in the limelight!

DC: How do you feel your male or female characters have evolved over your career? Do you think you write them differently now than you did when you started?

SR: I’m no longer afraid to write characters as they come to me. Whether they’re opium addicts or sexy chefs, I just write them how I want. In doing so, I’m much happier than when I first started writing and tried to fit into what was selling at the time.

I’m especially happier with my heroines. In the beginning I had such a hard time connecting with them, thinking they had to be perky and happy and stunningly beautiful. But I don’t write those women anymore. I write ‘real’ women. Skinny, plump, blonde, brunette, shy, outgoing, whatever the case might be, I think I write women who readers can relate to and can understand. Women, who are, like readers who read romance.

DC: Is there a genre you haven’t tackled but would like to try?

SR: Well, I never thought I’d write contemporary, so Hot In Here totally surprised me. I guess the answer is no, not right now. I’m writing historical, and I have AN historical paranormal novella coming out later this year with Spice. I’ve written contemporary and am now into contemporary paranormal. So I’d say I’ve got enough on my plate for now! But I never say never! Lol!

DC: I know you love to cook. Would you mind sharing your favorite recipe with us?

SR: I do love to cook! And why I don’t give you a recipe that appears in Hot In Here?

Chocolate Caramel Bread Pudding with White Chocolate Kahlua Sauce

6 cups day old French bread, cubed
4 cups heavy cream
1 cup milk
½ cup white sugar
8 oz white chocolate
1-2 Caramel filled chocolate bar, such as Cadbury’s Caramilk (depending on size of your casserole dish)
2 whole eggs
5 egg yolks

 

Preheat oven to 350. Place cubed French bread in large casserole dish and toast bread in oven for 15mins. Remove from oven. Place heavy cream, milk and sugar in medium saucepan and heat just until the boiling point. Remove from stove, ad white chocolate and stir until chocolate has melted. Whisk together egg yolks, and whole eggs. Add to cream mixture and whisk until incorporated. Pour mixture over toasted bread and allow to soak for 20 mins. Before placing in oven, break chocolate bar into squares, and press into the bread mixture, putting some deep into the pudding, and leaving some just at the surface of the pudding. Place in oven and bake 35mins covered. Uncover and bake for additional 15mins. Top each serving with Kahula sauce.

 

Kahlua Sauce

 

1cup heavy cream
4 oz white chocolate
¼ cup Kahlua

 

Bring heavy cream and Kahlua to a simmer in a small saucepan for 3-5 mins. Remove from stove and add chocolate and allow to sit until the chocolate is melted. Stir until smooth.

 

Yields 12-15 servings, and does re-heat well in the oven, or microwave.
Now, being Scottish, we love custard, and I gild the lily with this dessert by adding some warm custard with it. Any commercial, powered custard will do, but I use Byrds.

 

*This dish is best served with Bryce Ryder feeding it you*

DC: What advice would you give to your younger self?

SR: To not be afraid to explore all the things I wanted to do.

DC: Your site told me that you’re trying Lora Leigh and Joey W. Hill for the first time. How did those reads go for you?

SR: OH, I LOVED them! I haven’t gotten through all of Lora’s Breed series yet, but I plan to this summer. And I adored Joey’s mermaid series. So beautifully written. (I love angels, btw. Especially those fallen ones!) I have her third mermaid book, A Mermaid’s Ransom, on pre-order and am really looking forward to reading that.

DC: If you had never become an author, what do you think you would be doing right now?

SR: Probably nursing. It’s a safe income bet!

DC: You also write as Charlotte Featherstone. What is Charlotte up to right now?

SR: Charlotte has an historical paranormal coming out with Harlequin Spice in Nov ’09. The anthology is entitled Winter’s Desire, and my novella is Midnight Whispers. The anthology is written with Kristi Astor and Amanda McIntyre and it revolves around the Winter Solstice.

As well, I’m finishing up Sinful, which is Lord Wallingford’s book, which releases from Harlequin Spice in May 2010. Readers saw him in Addicted. He was the hero’s best friend. And let me tell you, he’s living up to his name!

DC: What’s on the horizon for Sophie Renwick?

SR: I hope to be writing more on the Ryder brothers and definitely more Annwyn Chronicles. I’m starting to think about the second book and what character will get his book next. The quest is involved, and I can take different paths, allowing me to kind of pick and choose who I want to write. So I’m definitely hoping to develop this series!

Lightning Round:

- dark or milk chocolate?   – Definitely milk!
- smooth or chunky peanut butter?   – Smooth all the way!!
- heels or flats?    – Oooh, I love heels! Not always practical, but love them.
- coffee or tea?   – Both. Coffee in the morning, tea in the afternoon and evening.
- summer or winter?   – Summer. Although I do love that first snowfall of the winter!
- mountains or beach?   – Beach. I love the water and the moon.
- mustard or mayonnaise?  -  Mayo
- flowers or candy?   – Flowers
- pockets or purse?   – Usually I like pockets, but also collect evening bags. I love them!
- Pepsi or Coke?    -  Coke!
- ebook or print?   – Print, because I’m one of those people who love to hold a book in her hands, smell the pages and keep flipping back to the front cover.

And just because:

1. What is your favorite word?   – I love words! Probably it’d something like love, passion, pleasure
2. What is your least favorite word?   – Can’t
3. What turns you on creatively, spiritually or emotionally?   – Almost anything. I’m surprised where I get inspiration, or peace
4. What turns you off creatively, spiritually or emotionally?   – Fatigue
5. What sound or noise do you love?   – Waves crashing on a beach, the sound of leaves rustling on a summer evening
6. What sound or noise do you hate?    – Dentist drill
7. What is your favorite curse word?   – OH, the F bomb for certain!
8. What profession other than your own would you like to attempt?   – Book store owner
9. What profession would you not like to do?    – Nursing. ‘That’s my current ‘paying’ job and I’m ready to be done with it!
10. If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates? – “You were a good, honest, honorable person.”

Thanks so much for having me and for the really great interview questions!

DC: Thank you, Sophie, for taking the time to chat with us!

Devon’s review of A Witch’s Beauty (Mermaid Series, Book 2) by Joey W. Hill
Paranormal Romance released by Berkley Trade 6 Jan 09

Joey W. Hill is a fabulous writer. I guess I’ve moved into full fledged fangirl territory. Her characters are flawed, drawn to the darkness. Their desires and needs can be dark as well. But her books are never too disturbing or squicky, because the emotional bond between the characters is always evident. Hill writes about the redemption that can be found in true love and acceptance. A Witch’s Beauty is another fine example of this theme, and another enjoyable read.

Mina was my favorite character in A Mermaid’s Kiss, and I was really looking forward to her story. The daughter of a seawitch (mermaid) and a Dark One (demon), Mina has lived a life of ostracism and distrust. Much of her solitude is chosen however, for she is extremely powerful and must resist the call of her Dark One blood. Mina feels the urge to do evil, and constantly struggles to maintain a balance. Cranky, heavily scarred and possessing a long pair of tentacles, Mina is not a typical romance heroine. She’s a bit freaky, but I love her. She’s strong, brilliant and strangely funny and vulnerable. Be aware that she can sometimes be quite harsh and off-putting.

Mina meets David in that first book (which you don’t have to read, but I think you’ll get more out of this book if you do). David is a young angel with a troubled human past (which connects to two of Hill’s earlier books). Hill writes very strong, troubled heroines quite well, and she also writes a certain type of hero that is pretty unique. She uses the word “Champion” and that fits David very well. He is strong and steady, and unswerving in his faith in and love for Mina. He’s more in touch with his emotions, and Mina is the more powerful and aloof one, but it is clear that she really, really needs him, probably more than he does her.

There’s not a whole ton of plot. The focus is squarely on Mina and David and their developing relationship. I loved the characters and their relationship, but there were some slow bits. I think one’s enjoyment of the book will depend upon their enjoyment of the characters. I think it’s a good idea to read the first book as well, to get a clearer picture of this fictional universe and the characters within. The action certainly ratchets up towards the end, and it is gripping, painful, and sometimes confusing. But for readers of fantasy/paranormal romance who enjoy complex (and sometimes dark) characterization and relationships, I recommend. You won’t find the run of the mill here.

Grade: B+

Read more reviews and information about this series by following its tag.

The Summary:

Mina is the daughter of an unholy union—a mermaid taken by one of the malevolent Dark Ones. While helping to rescue Prime Legion Commander Jonah, she exposed herself as a potentially dangerous weapon, susceptible to the darkness in her own blood. Now, for the general good, Jonah has angels watching over her…

Though Mina is resistant to being protected, her attitude begins to change when David, the human-born angel, is awarded the duty. Looking into his eyes, she can sense that he too knows what it means to fight the darkness within. But—as their passion threatens to take over—will it lead them to Heaven or Hell?
Read an excerpt

Other books in the series:

A Vampire’s Claim, the third book in Joey W. Hill’s vampire series, will be released by Berkley Trade on 3 March 2009. Read on for an excerpt!

The daughter of two vampires, Lady Daniela is considered aristocracy in the vampire world. Still, she has to fight for what she wants—especially since what she wants is to depose a brutal territory overlord. For that she’ll need the help of Devlin, a handsome, brave human who inflames her desire far more than any man or beast.

Even though she could easily lay her claim and take Dev on as a fully marked servant, she resists the urge—especially since Dev is still tormented by something in his past. But when her enemy makes an unexpected appearance, Dev surprises them both by yielding completely to his feelings for Danny and showing her the devotion of a true servant—until she decides to take his freedom without asking…

***
Lady Daniela has never taken a full human servant. At two hundred years, she’s always put it off, having a bachelor’s attitude toward bonding with another, even an inferior human. Until she meets Dev on her return to her sheep station in Western Australia in 1953. The laconic bushman is a war veteran with the talents to help her reclaim her station from her mother’s lover, who usurped her position there forty years before.

But the more she gets to know him, the more reluctant she is to bind Dev to her in a way that might get him killed. Dev has his own thoughts on the matter, though, and she’ll soon find it’s easier for a vampire to survive in the desert sun than for her to survive without him by her side.

***

EXCERPT

This comes from the second chapter, when Dev and Danny have just met in a hotel pub in an Outback town and Danny has taken him back to her rooms.

The small boardinghouse was nothing fancy, of course, a frame building set up on pilings for air flow. Basically, it served as an alternative to the hotel, which housed mainly single stockmen. But it was clean and they’d tried to create a parlor for guests to play cards or keep one another company. There was even a brace of not-too-dingy lace curtains at the doors leading out to the veranda. Dev watched, bemused, as she slid the meager furniture of sofa and chair against the wall to clear floor space before he could join her to assist. For all she looked so refined and willowy, she was a strong thing.

“Take out your whip,” she said. And without further ado than that, she began to pace back from him, until she was near the opposite wall. Then she started to slip the buttons of her white shirt.

That froze him in place, watching the cleavage evolve into the high white curves of her breasts, like a bird’s wings. And she didn’t wear some practical brassiere bought out of a catalog, like most women he’d known. Her bosom was held in a lacy, transparent garment that not only made it look ready to spill out at any moment, but showed him the soft mudge of mauvenipples. Saliva gathered in the back of his throat as she shrugged out of the shirt. When she loosed her hair, it drifted over the molded cups and swung back over her bare shoulders.

“Come here and take off my boots.”

He moved, even though the commanding tone bothered him some, as if she fully expected to be obeyed. *Don’t make an issue out of it, mate.* Wryly, he suspected that quelling directive had been barked straight from his cock to his floundering brain.

“Lady Daniela.” He wet dry lips. “So you never explained that. Am I with nobility, then?”

“Aristocracy. Nobility is a virtue. I have few of those.”

He let his gaze drift appreciatively. “I’d argue that, my lady.”

When he reached her, she was leaned up against the wall, folding her hands almost demurely beneath the cushion of her backside. Even though the pose lifted those breasts, drew his hungry attention to them, she braced her heel on his thigh, stopping his forward progress. “My boots, Dev. If you’d like to see the rest.”

Picking up her ankle, he slid to the heel to take hold. While she hadn’t said to do it, he also took off the thin sock beneath, his hands whispering along bare skin now, the slope of calf and delicate structure of her ankle, the arch of her foot. Her lips parted, her breath raising those lovely breasts on a trembling sigh. She liked his touch, then. That was good. Because he intended to touch her a lot, for as long as she’d put up with him.

She shifted, placed the other foot high on his thigh again, earning a hungry lunge from his cock contained only by the tough fabric of his moleskins. Once he slid that boot and sock off, she straightened and opened the clasp on her jodhpurs. One teasing wriggle and they slid down her flesh like a waterfall, no resistance from her silky skin. As if she were one of those Roman goddesses, it was like she was meant to stand like this, in an elegant, nearly naked pose. He was all for it.

More lace, more transparent fabric that hiked high on her legs and the delectable arse. He’d bet it was round and soft-looking as a pillow. He was a sucker for a fine arse. He liked all the parts, but that one. He couldn’t get enough of ogling, squeezing, smacking. even buggering. Tina’d always laughed and said she had to keep her back to a wall-

He pulled back, startled by the thought. Lady Daniela glanced up at him. “Something bite you?” That seemed to amuse her for some reason, but there was a serious question in her gaze.

Nothing but memories. But as he well knew, memories did more than bite. They tore, ripped, mutilated.refused to leave you alone-or dead. He wouldn’t care which they did, as long as they’d stop their tormenting.

As if she knew that, she crossed the room, putting that distance between them again. He’d never seen a woman walk like that. Not the exaggerated saunter of a whore, or the self-conscious movements of a modest woman deprived of her clothes. It was the way he imagined a goddess to walk, fully aware of her sexual power, willing to be generous with it if the man was worthy. He wasn’t, but at this point he was willing to beg, as soon as he
could find his tongue. She was giving him a hell of an eyeful, driving coherence away.

High firm tits, arse shifting along just right, smooth pale legs. She was a vat of cream, for sure, and he was the hungry tom who wanted to lick it all up.

“So here’s your chance, bushman.” She posed there, a hand on her hip, cocked provocatively, and tossed her hair back. “Touch me with that whip from the farthest reach possible, without leaving so much as a mark, and I’ll give you everything you want. If you hurt me. I’ll get what I want.” She smiled, unexpectedly. “Of course, it’s all the same really, isn’t it?”

It broke some of the tension, making him chuckle. But as he measured off the pacing he needed, he felt a moment’s uneasiness. There was a reason the stockman’s braided kangaroo hide whip was called his third arm. He had as much control over it as his own limb. But the one appendage Dev didn’t seem to have any control over, his cock, could seriously disrupt that control, and a stockman’s whip could carve a brand in a steer’s hide.

*So focus, damn it. You don’t want to hurt her.*

Or did he? Fleetingly, he wondered if he might cheat a little.just to see what she’d demand of him. The look in her eyes was the way a lioness centered herself before chasing down that helpless buck. He did and didn’t want to do it her way. Some part of him wanted to go to her, bury himself in wet heat, feel the desperate clutch of her hands as he drove her to climax. Because after he exploded inside her, for a short time he could drift in the fantasy of a reality he’d had for too short a time. A reality he’d never have permanently again, because his heart wouldn’t survive its loss twice.

*Stop it.* Control wasn’t only important in the use of the whip. It was what was most important of all. As long as you had it, it implied you had choice. Startled, he realized he’d echoed her words earlier, by the billabong. Control was what was important, above all.

He uncoiled the whip with one deft move of his wrist. “You sure you might not enjoy feeling a touch of pain, my lady?”

“That’s beside the point.” She curled her lip, showing him a flash of her canines, which seemed particularly sharp. “The bet is no pain, or I get to take everything I want.”

He could curl the whip around her body for hours, twirl her in a dance, touch the end of it to any pink fragile part, tease a nipple or the hint of her pretty pussy beneath the gauzy fabric. Or cut a brand into her flank as intricate as he might wish. His cock hardened inexplicably at that thought.

As she posed there, beautiful, statuesque, something far beyond his reach, her blue eyes never left his face. Then she destroyed him by raising her arms above her head so her breasts rose, the skin stretched over her rib cage, making it more defined, vulnerable. She stayed that way, as if her hands were bound from the ceiling, and his blood fired.

The whip sang out, the pop striking right where he intended. A spot high on her perfect right breast, the first place he’d place his lips to soothe the skin. He put enough recoil into the strike that the effect was a bee sting, raising a blush on the skin. No cut, but it definitely hurt. Proving that he could do it without pain, and had made the conscious choice not to do so.

Sometimes he thought his roughness with women, the need to hurt them a little, came from the fact that none of those women was the one he missed so much. But there was a different component to this. Bloody oath, she didn’t even flinch. But he sensed something change in the air as he brought the whip back to him, coiled it up in an efficient movement. If he had to give it a name, he’d say it was a wave of feral satisfaction, emanating from her
like blazing heat.

Holding the whip in a clenched fist, he saw her gaze travel to where his cock was straining against his trousers, then back over every tense muscle in his body. As her attention went up his bare chest, it reminded him of her touch through the bar rag, the way she’d seemed to savor every inch of him.

“I assume you’re a man of your word?” she asked.

“I am.” He found his mouth was dry.

“Take off your shirt.” When he complied, she began to move toward him. As her hips moved like the pendulum of an elegant clock, her breasts quivered in the cradle of that bra. He was sure the underwire beneath the lace was far more unforgiving and cruel than his hands would be. Or maybe not.

She stopped before him, gazed up into his eyes. Dev was unable to move, the proximity of her body to the raging need of his own overwhelming, paralyzing him. “When we’re alone, you may call me Danny,” she said. “All right?”

“Yes, my lady.” He wasn’t sure why he couldn’t comply with it just yet. Maybe he needed her remoteness. Maybe he was afraid that what was inside him would swallow her whole if she left no barriers between them.

“There’s something in your eyes, bushman,” she continued softly, looking up into them. “I want to keep this moment quite real between us. You said you’d let me have anything I want.”

“There’s not much to take, love.” And he was afraid what little there was, he might give her. He’d immersed himself in women before to keep the darkness at bay, but despite the fact this woman looked a handful of years younger than him, it was as if she understood the deep intricacies of the world, how they were heartbreaking beyond bearing. She wasn’t soothing him or telling him to shut it out. Instead she was throwing him a line, making him accept the port she was offering from his storm.

Her hand slid over his on the whip, started to uncoil it again. When he reached for her with his free hand, she caught his wrist, guided it behind him, then the other, the whip still in his grip. Before he could object or try to overpower her, she’d lifted on her toes and brought her mouth to his, pressing those straight-from-Heaven tits against his chest. The bra was so
thin he could feel the pressure of her hardened nipples.

Opening to her, he gave her his tongue, teased her with it, demanded with his lips what his body had to have. He was vaguely aware of her tangling his hands in the whip, and now he’d no objection to her game. Until he felt the kangaroo leather cinch, one shot past painful, and found she’d securely bound his wrists behind him.

She backed away from him then, holding the tail of the whip through his legs. When he started to move forward, she lifted it between them, putting an uncomfortable pressure against his testicles. Her blue eyes had sobered, but he found it somewhat reassuring they still reflected the raging desire he was feeling himself.

“Did you know that when a convict was brought here, sometimes he didn’t even know the length of his sentence?” Her voice had become that sultry murmur again, despite the grim topic. “Perhaps the judges forgot to tell him, or didn’t think him worth the effort. I think that would be the worst part of his lot. Truly helpless to his fate, forced to trust his master to tell him when his release would come.”

He told himself all he needed to do was twist to yank the whip from her. Instead, he remained still, watchful. “You didn’t jump when I marked you. As though you expected it.”

“I did. You don’t do what you’re told, because you want to defy the consequences. Prove you can handle them.” She came back to him then, one step, two.three. Reaching out, she caressed his jaw, then tipped his chin back, slowly, her nails digging in a little. She liked using her claws. A further tip, straining his neck some, a deeper gouge of those sharp edges.
“Plus, I trusted you. Can you trust me?”

Her breath was on his flesh, near the artery pulsing in his throat. For some reason Dev heard his blood pounding through it, his ears, his chest, as if rushing water was closing in on him.

“I doubt it.”

Over the past few weeks, one topic has engaged the writer message boards and forums. But, although I’ve read it as an author, it occurred to me that the reader hasn’t really said anything yet. So I thought I’d see what readers think about the current RWA ruckus. Yes, I’m a writer, but I’m a disinterested party, as I’m not a member of the RWA, and I don’t enter either the RITA or the Golden Heart. I want to look at this as a reader, an avid consumer of the product that the RWA members produce, if you will. So I don’t care about the rules and regs, or about the plight of the authors, not in this column, just in what I see as a reader. 

Yesterday, Jasmine Jade, which owns the Ellora’s Cave, Cerridwen, Lotus Circle and Exotika imprints, announced it would not be going to the RWA’s big conference, usually known as Nationals. It is no longer a recognized, or acknowledged, or whatever they’re calling it publisher, so it would have to pay for everything, and it’s simply not worth its while. So anyone wanted to pitch to them, or to learn more about them, or visit with their authors at the booksigning will be disappointed.

Alongside this is a row about the RITA and the Golden Heart, the RWA’s two awards for published and unpublished writers respectively. E-published writers cannot enter either contest. The Golden Heart is for unpublished writers only, so they can’t enter that. But in order to enter the RITA, the book has to fulfill a number of criteria, one or more of which excludes e-published writers. Whether the intention was to do that or not, it’s impossible for an outsider to say, but that’s the effect. It’s all very complicated, and please, please, no more discussion of the actual rules and regulations. That’s none of our business, all of us who don’t belong to the RWA. What I’m concerned with is the effect.

In the past, I sometimes bought books because they were RITA winners. The award guaranteed a certain amount of quality, so it was safer to invest in a previously unknown or unexplored author. Readers would buy the whole of the list, winners and runners-up, to find the best of the best. That’s what the RITA seemed to represent.

These days, I don’t do autobuy anymore. Instead, there are authors I look for, and assess when I read more about the book. And these days there are as many e-published authors as there are mass-market paperback New York authors on my list. True, I live in the UK, so my ability to browse bookstores full of romance paperbacks is limited to my yearly visits to the States, but I have Amazon.

I’ve moved over to e-books as my format of choice. Only if the book isn’t available in e-book do I get the paperback. So I’ve discovered some new authors that I love. Joey W. Hill, especially her Natural Law books are musts for me, and Linda Winfree’s books are side by side with Suzanne Brockmann and Linda Howard. I eagerly look forward to new releases from all four.

But if the RITAs are limited to the books from the big print publishers, then that halves my interest in the awards. I know there are books out there that equate with anything New York puts out, because I’ve read them. I love discovering new authors, whatever the format their books come out in. I don’t check the RWA list of approved publishers before I buy a book. I look at the cover art, read the blurb and an excerpt and maybe, if there’s an award like the RITA attached to it, I’ll pay a bit more interest in it, and maybe take a chance on a previously unknown author.

The attitude of the people awarding the RITAs seems similarly strange to the publishers. All publishers are all increasingly putting books out in e-format, so it is fast becoming just another way you can buy books. I know there are serious ramifications for authors and contracts, but I’m trying to ignore that here, and look at it from the point of view of the consumer.

So, as a reader, would I attend RWA Nationals, or visit the big booksigning there? I’d be disappointed because some of my favorite authors won’t be there, and it’s so expensive to attend, so probably not. Would I buy a book based on the fact that it had been awarded a RITA? No, not any more. I can’t trust it anymore, because it excludes the books of some writers that I love.

The RWA is busy sidelining itself. It’s a shame, but it makes my choice of which conference to attend that much easier.

For those of you following along at home, we’ve been serving up excerpts all week from the Unlaced anthology by Jaci Burton, Jasmine Haynes, Joey W. Hill, and Denise Rossetti .  You still have time to win a copy.  Simply leave a comment on one of the excerpt posts and you’ll be entered to win.

Excerpt One: The Ties that Bind by Jaci BurtonExcerpt Two: Undone by Jasmine Haynes

Excerpt Three: Controlled Response by Joey W. Hill

Excerpt Four: Rubies and Black Velvet by Denise Rossetti

If you haven’t already, be sure to swing over to Book Binge and check out the guest post the authors did.

 The Good and Bad About Writing for an Anthology

One lucky winner will be chosen from the comments of that post to win a signed copy of Unlaced.

And now, some winners of our various giveaways.  If you didn’t win, no worries, there are more opportunities coming your way!

Bingeaduckia Excerpt: Unlaced, an anthology by Jaci Burton, Jasmine Haynes, Joey W. Hill, and Denise Rossetti–Parts One, Two, Three and Four

• Lori T wins a copy of Unlaced! Email redwyneATgmail.com with your mailing info.  Put “Unlaced Contest Winner” in the subject line.

Bingeaduckia Excerpt: Night After Night by Kathryn Smith

• Pam and Lori Ann win an ARC!  If you haven’t already,  please email katewriterATgmail.com with your addresses.

Bingeaduckia Excerpt: Holiday Seduction, by Jaci Burton and Lauren Dane–Parts One and Two

• KrisJ and KristinM win copies of Holiday Seduction and The Perfect Gift by Annmarie McKenna , Maya Banks , MacKenzie McKade , Kate Davies and Stacia Wolf. Email redwyneATgmail.com with your mailing info. Put “Holiday Seduction Contest Winner” in the subject line.

Congratulations!!!!

Last, but not least, the final excerpt from Unlaced, an anthology by Jaci Burton, Jasmine Haynes, Joey W. Hill, and Denise Rossetti, Rubies and Black Velvet. Don’t forget to comment after you read, because I’m giving away a copy of the book!

Excerpt One: The Ties that Bind by Jaci Burton

Excerpt Two: Undone by Jasmine Haynes

Excerpt Three: Controlled Response by Joey W. Hill
Excerpt from Rubies and Black Velvet by Denise Rossetti

Holdercroft on the Cressy Plains, Palimpsest

When the thunder came again and again, rolling around the tall heads of the mountains, the good folk of Holdercroft village shuddered. “They’m at it again,” they said, shaking their heads. But the tavern on the plain was warm and snug, the doors and windows shuttered against the fierce driving rain.

“‘Tis the dragon djinn,” grunted old Griddle, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“And the sorceress,” whispered his wife. She made the two-handed sign of the Sibling Moons. “Brother and Sister preserve us.”

“Seen `er once.” Griddle held out his tankard for a refill. “Ridin’ a storm cloud, the night the big tree came down, ye remember?”

“Ye were drunk,” scoffed his wife.

“Naked as a bebbe she were. All pale and long.” Griddle’s rheumy eyes took on a faraway look. “Hair down to `er waist, flyin’ like whips o’ black silk. And when she looked at me, `twas like starin’ hell in the eye. So dark, so deep…” He buried his long nose in his ale.

“Ye stupid old sot.” Griddle’s wife poked his shoulder with a bony finger. “Why would a sorceress look at ye?”

Griddle subsided, grumbling into his ale. “She did,” he muttered, almost too low to hear. “Like she wanted to chew me up and spit me out. Like she hated me for livin’.” Abruptly, he banged his empty jug down on the bar. “Gimme another!”

At evening’s end, his wife had to call for the blacksmith’s boys to carry him home through the rain on a plank.

*****

Out in the barn behind the Mackie place, John knelt at Meg’s feet, grumbling as she toweled his hair. “Give over, Meggie. You’re not my bloody mother.”

But Meg only laughed, that deep delicious chuckle that never failed to make something inside him flutter. She pulled his head down between her generous breasts and rubbed harder. Giving up, John pushed his nose deep into the warm, fragrant depths of her cleavage and inhaled with tremendous satisfaction.

Meg. His Steady Meggie.

Even at nineteen, he had no doubts. The gods had made Margaret May Mackie just for him. His center, his refuge, when the emotional tempests at home got too much. They wore a man down, his family. Between Ma and Da and his ten brawling siblings, there were times John couldn’t think straight unless he held Meggie’s hand in his.

He stroked a broad, callused palm over the luscious curve of her rump. The only girl in the Cressy Plains who could match him. Five foot eleven inches in her sturdy bare feet, Meg’s cushiony body fitted perfectly against his huge frame, her long legs and smoothly muscled thighs a comfortable cradle for his eager weight.

John fumbled a hand down to rearrange his aching cock. He wasn’t embarrassed. With Meg, everything was natural, easy. She knew him, better than he did himself, he thought sometimes. He hadn’t got inside her yet, though it was all he’d been able to think about through the long, golden summer, the pink musky flesh between her pale thighs. They’d done just about everything else though. Grinning, he traced the crescent of freckles on the inner curve of one breast with his tongue. Then he blew on the damp, creamy flesh.

Meg yelped and tweaked his ear.

One day… He leaned forward to rub his cheek against the softness of her belly through the fabric of her sensible nightgown. One day, Steady Meggie would swell with his child. They’d make their own family, one without fists and fury and slamming doors. And if they were fortunate, her frail widowed father would live to see his grandchildren, the farm in good hands, before he passed to the gods.

And John would be hers too. For the rest of their lives.

It gave him such pleasure to think of it. His life in her steady, capable hands.

*****

“What do you think they’re doing down there?” The sorceress stared broodingly across the gulf of night-dark space at the tiny twinkling lights far below. Her dwelling was older than time, built into the shoulder of the peak, carved of living stone. The chilly wind lifted the tendrils of black hair that brushed her snow white hips, but even naked as she was, she didn’t feel the cold.

Huge ebony arms snaked around her waist from behind, the hint of scales under the skin abrading her flesh. “Insects,” rumbled the dragon djinn. “Who cares?”

The sorceress smiled without humor, the merest curve of thin red lips. She pressed back against her dragon lover, enjoying the monstrous size of him, towering over her by more than a foot. His massive pointed phallus burned so hot against her cool buttocks, the sensation was just this side of pain. She didn’t need to turn to know his reptilian eyes would be flaming with passion, ruby-red.

But in the end, she did turn, because she couldn’t help herself. By Shaitan, she hated this strange compulsion, her inability to be done with him, to discard him as she’d done with centuries of lovers. Fifty seasons they’d played together and fifty times she’d tried to extricate herself and failed.

In their hellish dance of lust and blood and pain, she could never be sure who’d triumph in the struggle for dominance. She knew only that she was addicted to the savage beauty of the djinn’s body, swaying under the lash, fascinated by his stubborn draconic endurance. Sometimes he was so fierce, she feared for her very life, and her slow ancient blood would run hot and heavy. Then it would be her turn to plead for mercy, cracked and broken and exalted. The razor’s edge of peril intoxicated her.

And oh, she loved his magnificent body in either form, man or dragon, black as midnight in the pits of hell. But in general, she preferred something in between, as he was now. The best of both worlds.

Stepping back, the sorceress wrapped long slim fingers around his jutting phallus, though she had no hope of closing her fist. The dragon djinn rumbled his pleasure, his forked tongue flickering over a brutal mouth. His organ writhed in her palm, undulating like a cat, the slitted tip curling back to dab a wet kiss on the back of her hand. A mortal would discover his bodily fluids burned like acid, the sorceress felt only a tingle pleasantly reminiscent of pain.

The next excerpt from Unlaced, an anthology by Jaci Burton, Jasmine Haynes, Joey W. Hill, and Denise Rossetti is Joey W. Hill’s Controlled Response. Don’t forget, I’m giving a copy to a commenter on any of these excerpt posts!

Four mistresses of erotic romance unleash their most irresistibly dangerous fantasies in this sensational anthology of lust and lingerie…
So many delicious surprises under a corset…Such fine exquisite lace. Such warm soft leather. Such a nice tight fit. Such impressive boning. Here are four all-new stories from four hot authors that erotica fans will find irresistible…

Excerpt from Controlled Response by Joey W. Hill

Forty-five miles. God, the only thing better than this was sex. Sex done exceptionally well. As Lucas crested the hill, pushing the burn in his legs, he snagged his water bottle to take a measured draught. Releasing the bike handlebars to coast hands-free, he shifted his hips to negotiate the inevitable curve. No such thing as a straight line or a flat expanse this deep in the Berkshires. Every downward slope followed by a challenging upward one. Like the curves of a woman’s body. Or her mind.

Ben had given him shit about hopping a charter here for the weekend when they were still figuring out how to make the numbers work for the Mancuso plant operation. But it was all bullshit, because Ben knew Lucas did his best problem solving while cycling. Just as the legal advisor did it by finding the prettiest ass available and immersing himself in it. When they came back to the office Monday, Ben would fix the legal snarls, and Lucas would crunch the numbers into manageable pieces. Hell, Matt should save the money on their corner offices. Though Lucas had to admit he liked his Baton Rouge city view, with the backdrop of the Mississippi River.

It was time for a lunch break and a stretch, if he could find the spot his buddy Marcus had told him was right off the road around here. He was pretty deep in the Berkshire farm area, but tourists did have a way of finding the hot spots. Still, Marcus had stressed “hidden”, even giving him GPS coordinates for the exact location, give or take ten feet.

There it was. As he rolled across the shoulder, he saw the narrow deer trail. A couple broken twigs and some spoor suggested the brown-eyed creatures had passed through recently.

It was a short hike, so it worked as a good cool down. The light racing bike was easy to carry, even with his gear. Marcus had said the glade would have a stream, soft grass for a nap and a frame of trees for the sky that would make Lucas think he’d fallen into a nest made by heaven itself. Marcus was a gallery owner, brushing shoulders with New York art types, so such metaphors were to be expected. Or maybe the description had come from Thomas, his spouse, or life partner, whatever they called it. It sounded like a good place and Lucas wouldn’t dwell on what they might have done there. To each his own, but his preference definitely ran to heart-shaped asses of a different gender. Skin of milk cream, and tender pink lips hidden like treasure between not-too-firm, not-too-soft thighs. Just like Goldilocks, he knew when they were just right.

Lately, it had been just okay. Some lovely ladies, intelligent, beautiful and willing. Business associates on the same time schedules, which discouraged anything deeper on both sides, but ensured dinner dates and sexual release were no further than a cell phone call. He was CFO for Kensington & Associates, after all, so he didn’t have trouble with that.

But maybe it was watching Matt, the head of K&A, with his new wife, Savannah, during the past year. The way they’d taken the leap of faith together, and their love just seemed to grow and grow. Not like a molasses flood, drowning everyone in reach in gooeyness. More like the quiet reassurance of the ocean’s murmur. Timeless, clean, overwhelming. Proof that there was a greater purpose here. Maybe he was ready for something deeper himself. Maybe that was why he was cycling and Ben was likely hip deep in pussy by now.

As he stepped into the clearing, anticipating the tranquility, he came to a dead stop, his thoughts scattering like a game of 52-card pickup.

Marcus hadn’t mentioned the spot came with a half-naked girl on a motorcycle.

Either that, or Lucas had been run over by a mini-van and didn’t realize he was dead, stumbling into everything Heaven should be. If so, he was profoundly thankful to the mini-van driver.

He blinked. Yes, it was definitely a woman, stretched out on the curved seat of a Night Rod series Harley. At one time, she’d apparently been wearing black jeans with riding chaps over them, for they were in a crumpled pile next to the bike, leaving her lower body clad only in a pair of silky ivory panties. Her feet were braced on the handlebars, legs spread, ass snugged down in the driver’s seat while her upper body was arched over the hump to the passenger seat. The toned legs and generous ass were taut, for her fingers were tucked into the panties. Thanks to the blessing of filmy material, he could see the individual movements of her fingers.

Managing to pull his attention away from that, he saw she was wearing a corset. Curiously, it wasn’t the decorative kind women wore on the outside of their clothes, though this was a beautiful sundry. Ivory-colored as well, with one strap falling off her shoulder and elevating her breasts enough they were accentuated by the slightest breath. It hooked in front, so would lay flat under the heavy white T-shirt she’d been wearing, also lying in the grass. Just a touch of lace at the low décolletage that tempted full exposure from the crescent stretch of her torso.

She wore a music player, tiny earphones tucked into ears as delicate as porcelain, half-hidden by her hair, skeins of white gold long enough to fall over the top of the rear tire. A few strands were scattered by the breeze across her face, teasing wet, parted lips. Her bare feet flexed against the chrome bars as she apparently hit a good spot, biting her lip. Since her eyes were closed, golden lashes fanning her cheeks, he imagined she was deep in some fantasy, picturing her fingers as someone else’s.

Or perhaps she was envisioning someone stealing upon her in this glade, watching, getting hungrier for a taste of the pussy she’d teased into a wetness that had soaked the crotch panel. Someone who wanted to slide his hands under her, grip that delectable ass and tongue her first through the saturated silk. Bite her clit through her panties. Women loved that, the buffer to stimulation that provided friction, helped warm them up, so that when he finally pulled the cloth out of the way and tasted creamed flesh, she would be writhing, begging.

God, he loved eating pussy. Second best thing to fucking it.

A gentleman—not to mention a smart man—would have backed away. But he couldn’t make his feet move. This was undeniably a gift from God, and he was a devout Methodist. Okay, at least when he went home to Iowa during Christmas and attended church with his parents. Regardless, there was a higher power, a higher order. Hadn’t he just been thinking that? Maybe this was an answer.

Yes, Lucas. In your search for a deeper relationship, God has sent you to a private photo shoot from Penthouse.

Hey, crazier things had happened. Like his spontaneous decision now, to become part of her fantasy. As he moved forward, he hoped she wasn’t armed.

Excerpt One: The Ties that Bind by Jaci Burton

Excerpt Two: Undone by Jasmine Haynes

The authors of the Unlaced anthology, Jaci Burton, Jasmine Haynes, Joey W. Hill and Denise Rossetti are guest blogging at Book Binge today about the good and the bad about writing for an anthology. They’re also giving away a signed copy of Unlaced from the commenters on the post.  Don’t miss out on your chance to win!

Bingeaduckia Guest Authors: The Good and The Bad About Writing For An Anthology

For a second chance to win, check out the excerpts being posted today and tomorrow.

Part 1
Part 2 (with Contest)

We continue our excerpts from Unlaced, an anthology by Jaci Burton, Jasmine Haynes, Joey W. Hill, and Denise Rossetti. released by Berkley Trade, December 2. Next we have an excerpt from Jasmine Haynes’ story, Undone.  Read the excerpt, then read on for a giveaway.

Excerpt from Undone by Jasmine Haynes

This little scene takes place less than a quarter of the way into the story. Dirk is an amateur photographer preparing to take boudoir photos of Margo in a corset.

“I want to get naked,” she purred.

This was the woman he’d hoped to release once she stepped in front of the camera. Hot. Ready. As if she were anticipating a man between her legs. It hadn’t taken her long to feel the lure of being naughty for an inanimate object.

He was so damn hard he needed a slug of beer to cool off. He positioned his camera back on the tripod.

“I have something I want you to wear.”

She startled as if she’d forgotten there was a man behind the lens. Turning, she held her arms across her abdomen, looked down, realized the defensive posture, and dropped it. She wasn’t quite as assured as she’d like him to think.

Opening a drawer of the vanity, he pulled out his prize.

“What”–she pointed, coming closer–“is that?”

“A corset.”

She laughed. He was beginning to get that she laughed when she was a tad nervous. “You mean like a real corset?” She put out a hand to touch the fabric, then one of the stiff bones.

“I want you to wear it.”

She tipped her head and eyed him, a taste of a smile at the corners of her mouth. “Is this some sort of fetish thing?”

“There’s something sexy about a garment that a woman needs a man to help her get in”–he raised a brow–“and out of.”

She snorted out a little puff of air. “She doesn’t need a man, just a maid.” She said it with the slightest edge and had him wondering about her real life.

“Consider me your servant for the time being.” He unfolded it as far as the bottom laces would allow. “Game?”

“Isn’t it hard to breathe with one of these things on?”

“I won’t lace it that tight.”

She clucked her tongue softly. “It’s kinky.”

He chuckled. “Hell, asking you over here is kinky.” He itched to lace her up. He could do it without touching skin, but she’d be close, so close. Just achieving something different on camera had been his original intention, but now, the idea of her sweet body in the corset had become a need, the ultimate in sexy.

The camera would adore her figure, her waist tiny, her breasts small but plumped by the corset’s stays.

Easing her in front of the vanity mirror, he stood behind her, her body heat a hair’s breadth between them. Then he leaned in to whisper, “Take off your clothes.”

She swallowed, her throat tensing in the reflection. Then she reached down, grabbed the hem of her sweater, pulled it over her head, and tossed it aside. Her hair settled back around her shoulders in a sexy muss. Her scent, sweet shampoo and fruity body lotion, rose up. He almost closed his eyes to breathe her in, then he looked in the mirror.

Holy hell. Her breasts beneath the black lace bra were everything he could have hoped for.

“Perfect,” he whispered.

Her nipples beaded. He knew it was what she needed to hear when her fingers went to the back of her skirt. He held her gaze in the mirror as the light rasp of her zipper filled the air, then she dropped the skirt and kicked it aside.

Her stomach was slightly rounded, there was a dimple or two in her skin that she probably hated. She had a nipped-in waist and a flare to her hips that might not have been the height of fashion in a world that demanded no woman should bear a single extra ounce. She was his ideal.

“The corset’s going to love your curves,” he whispered. Her breath whooshed out as if she’d been waiting for his approval.

Her eyes on his in the mirror, she undid the front clasp of her bra, shrugged, and the lacy confection fell to the carpet. Clad only in her satin thong, thigh-highs, and heels, she stole his breath.

He held the corset in front of her. The flower print on a cream background enhanced her skin. She glowed with vitality.

“Just step into it.” He’d left the bottom laces in the eyeholes so that he wouldn’t have to fiddle once she held the garment to her. Taking the two edges from him, she put one foot through the laces, the round curve of her ass coming perilously close to his cock.

“Hold it at your waist so I can thread the rest of the loops and tighten it.”

She looked at him in the mirror. “Have you ever done this?”

“No. But the salesgirl said to lace it like a tennis shoe.”

“Hah. So now I’m an old shoe.” Her laugh was genuine, but again he recognized that touch of vulnerability.

“Not old and not a shoe.” He stopped to give her body a long, savoring look. “A sexy woman.”

“Darn tooting,” she whispered, then held the corset around her at the waist as he began threading the holes.

He felt almost clumsy as his fingers brushed the skin at the base of her spine, just above her ass. Her body heat almost singed. The scent of her lotion wafted up, and something else, a faint aroma of woman, a touch of arousal.

She shivered.

“Are you cold?” He’d stoked the wood-burning stove earlier, and he was toasty. She, however, was damn near naked.

“No, it’s fine.” Her cheeks deepened their rosy tint.

The shiver had nothing to do with room temperature, and everything to do with bare skin. Looking down to the gape of the undone corset, he found her nipples hard, pearled. “I can put on another log,” he said as he pulled the laces together.

She sucked in a breath, then let it out slowly. “No, really.” Then she laughed softly. “I’m hot enough.”

He allowed himself a smile at her obvious pun.

He laced another couple of loops, and her skin’s warmth began to seep through the material. “The fit will get tight now.”

“I’ve heard that a tight fit is a good thing.”

Oh yeah, she was getting into it with him. He’d imagined touching her like this, soft, accidental caresses. He’d imagined himself with a hard-on as she fell into the heat of arousal. But he’d never considered how badly he’d need to be a part of it, not just an observer, but a participant. Her skin was smooth, soft to the touch. Her scent made his mouth water. He brushed aside her hair, baring her shoulders, though the length wasn’t at all in the way of the laces. He simply craved a touch.

Four eyelets left, he tightened. She gasped.

“Too tight? Can you breathe?”

“I’m okay. It’s just”–she tipped her head to one side–“it feels good in an odd way, makes you stand straighter.”

Another eyehole, and the corset plumped her breasts. Though barely covering her nipples, it effectively hid them from view. Too bad. “A couple more laces, can you handle it?”

“I’ll let you know when you’ve done it all the way up.”

He threaded and pulled, but with none of the strength Mammy had used on Scarlett in Gone with the Wind.

Tying the laces off with a neat bow, he stepped back. In the mirror, the effect was perfect. Her enticing breasts plumped above the lace edging of the corset. Cinching in her waist, the bones gave a luscious flare to her hips. Over her flattened abdomen, the point in the front arrowed down to her black satin thong. The globes of her delectable ass begged for his touch, and the back-seamed thigh-highs were a sexual hedonist’s fantasy. Her blond hair had fallen to frame the upper swell of her breasts. He raised his gaze to her green eyes. The artist in him needed to photograph her like that, while the man in him wanted to bend her over the vanity and bury his cock in her.

“So how’s the fit?”

She drew in a shallow breath, her breasts rising. “Just don’t make me run or try to touch my toes.” She smoothed a hand down her stomach. “But I like it. Though you can certainly see why the women didn’t eat much at their big galas.” Grinning at the mirror, she added, “But it makes me feel sexy.”

But could she make herself come for him? More than anything, Dirk wanted to capture her face aglow with ecstasy.

Turning this way, then that, she cupped her breasts, plumping them higher. Reaching around her, Dirk gave a slight tug on the bottom, and the tops of her nipples peeped out. It was the ideal combination of gentile lady and sexy woman.

How had he gotten so lucky? Margo was more than any woman he could have fantasized.

So yes, we were supposed to be doing a daily giveaway, but between work, brunch with Santa, visiting relatives, the Christmas Pageant at church, karate, so on and so forth, I never got around to it.  I do have a copy of Unlaced to give away to a commenter on any of the four excerpts (two today, two tomorrow Dec. 16).  Happy Reading!

Over the next few days, we will be featuring excerpts from Unlaced, an anthology by Jaci Burton, Jasmine Haynes, Joey W. Hill, and Denise Rossetti.  Unlaced was released by Berkley Trade, December 2.  This looks to be a hot one!  First up, an excerpt from The Ties That Bind by Jaci Burton.

Four mistresses of erotic romance unleash their most irresistibly dangerous fantasies in this sensational anthology of lust and lingerie…
So many delicious surprises under a corset…Such fine exquisite lace. Such warm soft leather. Such a nice tight fit. Such impressive boning. Here are four all-new stories from four hot authors that erotica fans will find irresistible…

Excerpt from The Ties That Bind by Jaci Burton

“You and I have been together twenty years, Lisa. We’ve been through hell and back. We’ve married, divorced and raised a daughter together. And even though we’ve lived in separate houses most of that time, we’re still…together. Sort of. You’ve dated some, I’ve dated some, but neither one of us have formed any relationships.”

“I thought that was because of Kay.”

“I don’t think so. Lots of divorced people remarry or at least develop relationships with someone else. Kids adapt and accept. Kayla would have, too.”

He was right. She had never found someone that sparked her interest enough to keep seeing more than a few times. She never really knew about Rick’s love life. Kayla probably knew more about it than she did, but Kay was good about not revealing Rick’s personal life to her. Thankfully.

“I never wanted anyone else, Lisa. I measured every woman against you, and they all fell short.”

She shifted her gaze to her drink. “I’m nothing special.”

He slid his fingers under her chin, forced her gaze back to his. “I disagree. You were barely a teen when you ended up pregnant. You had options to do something about that—your choice to make, but you chose to have Kayla. You finished high school while juggling an infant on your hip. You went to nursing school. You raised a brilliant daughter and you have a successful career. I think you’re pretty damn special.”

It was hard not to weep under praise like that. She blinked back tears, not wanting her mascara to run. “Thank you. But I didn’t do that alone. You’ve done a damn good job, too. As hard as it was on me, it was doubly hard on you. Working two jobs, going to college, living in an apartment and then buying a house for Kayla and me. You were always so generous.”

“It was my job to provide for my daughter.”

“You never missed a child support check. You went above and beyond what the courts required of you.”

“I love…Kayla.”

“I know you do.” Rick’s love for his daughter was evident in everything he did. That’s why every man she dated paled in comparison to Rick. Why there were never sparks hot enough to keep her interested for long.

But was it because he’d been so nice to her and Kayla? Or was it more than that?

“We owe it to ourselves to find out if it’s still there, Lisa.”

“If what’s still there?”

“The magic. The passion. What we once had together.”

She inhaled, let it out. “That’s what this whole vacation-in-the-tropics thing is about, isn’t it?”

“Yes. I wanted to kidnap you from your everyday life, away from our friends and yeah, even away from Kayla. Back to when it was just you and me.”

“We’ve changed since then, Rick. It’s not twenty years ago. We can’t go back.” She wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince him, or herself.

He nodded. “I know. But you can’t deny there’s still an attraction there.”

No, she couldn’t. Every time he came over, she longed for him. Every time he accidentally touched her, she felt the spark. But was it because it was Rick, or because it had been so damn long since there’d been a man in her life? She hated being so complacent.

Rick was easy. He was familiar. She’d gotten used to familiar and comfortable. She didn’t want to be familiar and comfortable anymore. Kayla was grown. This was her time to go out and get that life she’d denied herself.

Was that new life with Rick?

No. The absolute last thing she wanted was to destroy what she and Rick had built together. Their friendship. The easy way they talked and could be together and care for Kay. How they depended on one another. Would diving back into the sexual waters ruin that? What if it didn’t work out? Their perfect relationship would be ruined.

She finished her cocktail, used the napkin to swipe across her lips. “I don’t know if this is such a good idea, Rick.”

“You’re scared.”

“Yes.”

“I am, too. You have no idea how long I thought about this. Kayla may be eighteen, but she still has a young girl’s ideals of romance. She thinks it’s easy.”

“So did I…once.”

His lips quirked. “It wasn’t so bad.”

“It was a disaster. For both of us. I don’t want to make it worse by opening up old wounds.” They’d gone through hell together. They’d managed to repair the damage for Kayla’s sake, but they’d left so much unresolved.

“What are you so afraid of, Lisa?”

“You and I have a ton of history. Not all of it was good.” They’d been so young, their notions foolish and filled with fantasy. Reality had been entirely different. Harsh.

“True enough. But we’ve created a new kind of relationship.”

“That’s my point. I don’t want to screw it up.”

He slid his fingers through her hair. Cupped the back of her neck. She shivered at the warmth of his touch. Her nipples tightened and she felt the awakening fires between her legs, the all too familiar wetness there.

Rick leaned in and she was mesmerized by the unique turquoise of his eyes. Had they become even bluer over the years? She hadn’t been this close to him in so long.

“If nothing else,” he said, his breath whispering over her cheek as he drew in closer. “We’ll have a great time. God knows we both work so damn hard, Lisa. We need to have some fun.”

“Yes.” She wrapped her fingers around his forearm, felt muscles that hadn’t been there twenty years ago. He’d been no more than a boy when she’d last seen him naked. Her mind was awash in visuals of how it felt then, what it would feel like now. “Fun would be nice.”

Devon’s review of A Mermaid’s Kiss (Mermaids Series, Book 1) by Joey W. Hill
Paranormal Romance released by Berkeley Sensation 4 Nov 08

Joey W. Hill was one of the first erotic romance writers I ever read, and she is definitely one of the best. Her writing is extremely sensual, but also very emotional. Her books emphasize the vulnerability of forming a sexual and romantic connection with another. It takes trust and a leap of faith to open oneself up completely to another. Hill’s books also celebrate the joy of being completely accepted by another. While A Mermaid’s Kiss was less sexually intense than some of her other works, it’s a fascinating and sensual romance about losing one’s faith and then having it restored through the love of another.

Jonah is a Prime Commander of the Angels. He has spent thousands of years fighting evil, usually in the form of the Dark Ones (demons). He has grown weary of his existence, and is starting to lose his faith in the Lady, the Highest Power whom he serves. No longer seeing the point of it all, Jonah allows himself to fall deep into the sea when one of his wings is severed during a battle with the Dark Ones. He knocks into Anna, an isolated half-human, half-mermaid, who is awed and intrigued and determined to help Jonah.

The first fifty or so pages were slow. The writing style felt very formal, almost like a fairy tale, and I found it hard to get into. The book really picks up with the introduction of Anna’s ally, the prickly seawitch Mina. I loved Mina and I’m so psyched she gets her own book (A Witch’s Beauty, January 2009). Mina’s visions set Anna and Jonah off on a road trip inland to a place where Jonah can be fully healed. The “road romance” is one of my favorites, because although they meet people and have adventures, the focus is on the hero and heroine and the relationship development.

Jonah was an intriguing, larger than life hero. He is so old and powerful, but he has lost his way. He feels an immediate connection to Anna, so much younger and less powerful than he, but who is full of passion and faith in the goodness of others. She makes him feel again. Anna annoyed me at times. She was almost Mary Sue-ish, and just so good. She seemed a bit weak at times too. What kept me from disliking Anna was the wicked sense of humor she exhibited, and the fact that she never took any crap from Jonah, Mina, or anybody. In fact, she always gets her way. It was very clear that Anna’s quiet strength was exactly what Jonah needed. Their romance was great.

The road trip part of the book really held my interest, but towards the end, it started to flag, during what should’ve been the big climactic battle. It got a bit confusing, and I wanted things to move along already. I also have to mention that one part squicked me out a bit. Don’t want to be spoilery, but it involves Anna’s shapeshifting abilities. Despite that, I loved A Mermaid’s Kiss. It had a well-realized fantasy world, great secondary characters as well as the hero and heroine, and a sexy, moving romance. I recommend it to fantasy/paranormal fans, and I’m really looking forward to the next one.

Grade: B+

The Summary:

The angelic Jonah has been battling the Dark Ones for centuries. But his noble spirit has begun to tire with the weight of war—allowing a Dark One to strike a blow that severs his wings and knocks him into the sea.

Anna is a Daughter of Arianne—a direct descendant of the mermaid of legend. Anna’s longing for love compels her to risk her very life to protect and hide the fallen Jonah. And the longer Jonah delays his return to the heavens, the more Anna’s secret passions are tempted.

But as she falls more in love with him, Anna wonders if she’s destined to lose her heart and her dreams to save Jonah’s soul…

Read an excerpt

Sandy M. and Teddypig (aka the West Coast side of The Pond) have compiled a list of upcoming books that we here in The Pond cannot wait to read!! Some of the biggest names in the industry are taking risks and releasing work far outside of their usual comfort zones. WOOT! Bring ‘em on!


Joey W. Hill ~ The Greek Billionaire Vampire’s Secret Baby
Greek billionaire Stakeros Nachos Monsteranni III was captivated by Mary-Kate. But their passionate affair was cut short when Mary-Kate’s mother attempted to pound iron stakes into his coffin. Seven months later, Stakeros is shocked to see Mary-Kate again during a trip to the local blood bank. She’s struggling to make ends meet as a trained Phlebotomist and she’s visibly pregnant! If she’s carrying the Monsteranni heir, that can mean only one course of action for Stakeros: She must become his love slave!

N.F. Roberts ~ Born to Death
The Concannon sisters of western Ireland are post modern women of ambition and talent, bound by the timeless spirit of their land and a terrible blood thirst. This is a tale of Howitzer Concannon, assassin daughter of Maggie Concannon and some nameless sequel hunk Nora never got around to writing about. Almost fatally injured in a plane crash the government of Ireland decides to rebuild Howitzer, augmenting her with cybernetic parts which give her superhuman strength and speed. After accidentally stabbing Police Lieutenant Eve Dallas 45 times during an electrical storm, this complexly wired woman, whose tacky superhero costume includes a short skirt and horizontally striped stockings, must seek to sooth the distraught Roarke Dallas. Will his wounded heart be slowly healed by a gentle and forgiving love?

Karen Marie Moning ~ The Highlander’s Bad Touch
Journey to a world of disco magic, breathtaking sensuality, thrilling time-travel….

Journey to the world of The Bad Boy Highlander. Crisscrossing Castro Street and the centuries, here is a novel as gripping as it is awesome– an electrifying adventure that will leave you breathless….

I am Dogbert MacKilted, a man with one good conscience and thirteen inches, driven to sate my darkest desires …

Forced through time, he winds up on the dance floor of the infamous Castro Bar Badlands, where Dogbert looks out over a sea of sweaty gyrating male flesh with a funky beat. A sixteenth-century Scot trapped between queens, he is fighting a losing battle with horny men seeking to get his phone number, dooming him to an eternity of sexual pursuit. When Anita Man, Drag Queen extraordinaire, student of life, girl on the go, and Sister of Perpetual Indulgence in training, buys him a drink, she finds the insatiable alpha male an irresistible lure especially when she realizes he has no underwear under there. Before long, Anita is caught up in an ancient prophecy that will sweep her back in time to medieval Scotland. Plunged into a world without Cover Girl makeup or a decent bartender, our Drag Queen will soon face the challenge of a lifetime: fighting thirteen vicious jacked up ugly ass bitches for the heart of one irresistible man who better take her home soon… if he knows what the hell is good for him.

Sherrilyn Kenyon – The Devil Needs a New Swan Hat (Dark Hunters, book 542)
Siyphfer had just perfected his best Tina Turner impersonation when, thinking he was only entering another talent show, he was instead tricked into Artemis’ service as a Dark-Hunter. This immortal has dreamed only of regaining his crown and seeking revenge on the vicious evil nasty queen who betrayed him. But when a hot young fashion designer, Christian Siriano, in perilous danger from that man eating bitch, Heidi Klum, suddenly appears in his life, Siyphfer knows that he just may have found the answer to all his prayers… a love that will cross realms to bring him a fabulous new swan hat

The incomparable Cassie Edwards has just announced the title of her next upcoming release!

Out of print for years, this classic will soon be re-released for a whole new generation to discover!

Gwen’s review of The Mark of the Vampire Queen (Vampire Queen, Book 2) by Joey W. Hill
Paranormal erotic romance released 5 Feb 08 by Berkley Trade

Mark is the second in Hill’s tour de force Vampire Queen series.  It’s an erotic paranormal that reads right up there with the best of mainstream fiction.  There’s violence and passion, of course (vampires, after all), and a little kink, but mostly there’s just a very satisfying love story.  And we have another very yummy cover – the cover fairies have been very kind to Hill with this series.

 We learn quite a bit more about the hero, Jacob, and heroine, Lyssa, in this story.  Lyssa has a very poignant (and passionate) flashback memory of one of Jacob’s previous incarnations and his impact on her life.  We learn something incredibly heartbreaking about that liaison, in fact.  We learn how it affected Lyssa and see glimpses of this previous life pass through Jacob’s mind, as well.  We also get some tenderly told glimpses of Lyssa’s memories of Jacob’s samurai incarntion. 

Now, before you roll your eyes at this, it’s all very believably told with a minimum of “woo woo” aspects.  In fact, there isn’t much “woo woo” at all in Hill’s VQ world.  It’s all rather raw, erotic, and savage, with an edge of proper courtesies and political niceties, and then add a topping of intrigue and sociopathy.  Mix it all together and you are in Hill’s world.

It wasn’t lost on me that the most important men in Lyssa’s life all have biblical names – Jacob, Gideon, Thomas, and Elijah.  The other men in her life that played key roles, but who represented the brutality of her world, all seemed to have old, latin-based names like Carnal, Rex, and Belizar.  The women had rather normal sounding names.  Not sure why I bring that up, except I hold a lot of stake in a character’s name – I find what they pick very telling about the author and their mindset.

There’s not a lot I can say about this book, except you must read it if you read the first, The Vampire Queen’s Servant.  The story never stops – one scene flows seamlessly into the next and the pages keep turning.  There are some significant surprises in Mark, not the least of which is the ending (didn’t see THAT coming).  You just don’t want to miss it.  Yes – I had tears of sadness and joy the last few chapters.  It was wrenching, joyous, heartbreaking all at the same time.

I can’t review an erotic romance without talking about the erotic elements.  As with Servant, Mark has some highly erotic scenes.  There is a sexual overtone to much of what the vampires do in their world.  However, the sex is not intrusive.  The story develops because of the sex, not in spite of it.  Hill can write some of the most sensually erotic scenes I’ve ever read.  I’m always pleasantly aglow once I’ve finished one of her books.

I heartily recommend this book for paranormal fans, erotic romance fans, and fans of Joey Hill’s writing.  If you’re new to the series, I recommend reading the first book before you dive into this one.  Not that it can’t be read separately – I imagine it could – but you’ll have a much more satisfying experience if you read them in order.

Here’s to many more years of books in this world Hill has created - the fiercely erotic,  unapologetic existence these vampires lead is fascinating in the extreme.  I can’t wait until the next one.

Grade: A

From the back cover:

     Full servant. With his new title, Jacob must attend to Lady Lyssa’s every need, venturing into a world of passion darker than he’s ever known. As a vampire hunter he wasn’t prepared to embrace a world where humans are sexual commodities, but he has adapted. Now he finds the integrity of his soul challenged as he serves his Mistress’s needs as fully as he services her desires.

     He loves her, though other servants warn against giving her his soul. Everyone knows that Vampires have no regard for humans, so why would a Vampiress bother treating a mere sex toy with respect? But Jacob knows a human servant is far more than that. His Mistress needs a warrior, a friend and a lover. A man who will serve her in all ways, even if he has to betray the priceless treasure of her love.

     Read an excerpt (it’s a yummy one)

Other books in this series, The Vampire Queen’s Servant (Vampire Queen, Book 1). Read Gwen’s review here.

If you find that you simply cannot get enough of Hill’s world, have no fear.  According to her website, she’s got more on the horizon: 

     In Mark… there’s an Australian vampire named Daniela (Danny), and her irrepressible human servant Devlin, who will have their own book, currently called A Vampire’s Claim. Something along the lines of Devlin being a bush man who gets entangled with a beautiful city sheila…who happens to be a vampire needing a servant…

     Mark… also introduces the mysterious Mason, a vampire who lives as a recluse, brooding over the loss of a woman who died centuries before (he’s briefly mentioned at the end of VQS as well). A beautiful archaeologist is determined to find his lost love’s burial site and Mason is determined to stop her. Only he finds out that Jessica is also the escaped servant of a dead vampire, and she needs his protection – though she’d rather be boiled in oil than ask for his help. That book is tentatively titled A Vampire’s Promise.

Friday night is the night of parties and such at RWA. We had RSVP’ed to attend three and were going to go back to the room before heading out to the Harlequin party. I am forever a dumbass and didn’t notice it was at another hotel.

On our way back to the room we ended up in the bar, ran into some authors who were gonna go crash and decided to walk with them to the hotel. My migraine was back, my feet were killing me and I am a wuss. Seeing HelenKay and Sylvia Day sitting in the bar waiting for Kate Duffy was my sign I needed to sit my ass down.

I had never met Kate Duffy and I bother her often with emails so I had to stay. And when she joined us she didn’t even scream in horror and send me away. Cool huh?

Since my buds had left for Harlequin and moving seemed like a really really bad idea, I made a pest of myself for two or three hours. Sadly since I already had a migraine I didn’t even add more than one virgin drink to the bar tab. (I think I had one glass of wine during the whole conference)

Not really much to report on the whole thing. It is somewhat shocking to me that authors make such asses of themselves in front of editors. Another author who joined us later had no clue who I was, even after I tried to explain, and went on at length to tell me what was bad about online reviews.

Well not really… it started with she was really fine with them. If they are done right. To which I asked what ‘right’ meant… I am still not sure but I do know if you say a book made you take an asprin after you finished it that is attacking the author. I still don’t make that connection but to each their own.

A group of people joined us at one point, we were very happy to see them, I had no clue who the hell they were. Turned out it was Hilary and I am pretty sure her daughter and soon to be son-in-law. Sadly I didn’t get a chance to be introduced because she slipped away before I could pounce. I know! I wasn’t feeling well, what can I say.

Jami joined us, lovingly fondingly her book Built. Sylvia Day flipped through it looking for the dirty parts, at least that is what it looked like she was doing. There were random other authors popping in and out, trying to catch a ride on the Kensington tab. And really just doing a great job on networking.

HelenKay kept staring at me, I think waiting for me to mock the stupid but I was on my best behavior. Ok really I just wasn’t feeling well and maybe a touch in shock. A few notes if an editor askes you what you write – Smut – isn’t a good answer. Please someone correct me if I am wrong. Stories of how you buy your mom vibrators for christmas – not impressive. Oh and just to help clear it up in case anyone doesn’t know it – Kate Duffy – doesn’t edit the erotic romance line, Aphrodisia. (hmmm at least I don’t think so…)

I met a lovely couple David Wind and his omfg fabulous wife Bonnie. No really, I will forever loveseses her for giving me Sudafed on Saturday. I was sort of like what the hell ever at that point. And it worked! The woman is a god.

The funniest part of the night was when sarah and candy came back from wherever the hell they had been and were oh so nice to check up on me (although I think they just noticed who I was sitting next too ). Sarah was very motherly and told me I looked like shit and she hoped I felt better soon (I did too). And I got to say hello again to the oh so fab Heather Osborn (editor at TOR).

After I sat back down I leaned over to Kate, most likely scaring her, and quietly asked if she wanted to meet the Smart Bitches. The bar was loud and she gave me an odd look, thinking on it now the woman prolly thought I called her a bitch. It had been an odd night for people saying strange shit to Kate Duffy, so I repeated myself thinking lovely she prolly hates the bitches. And she was like oh, I would love to meet them but I haven’t seen them.

So I once again played hostess (I can’t remember all the people I introduced to other people… sniff no one prolly even recalls meeting ME) and caught Sarah’s eye and waved her over. Candy soon followed and there were bitches all around. Turns out Kate reads the Smart Bitches blog… who knew? The bitches than waddled off and we spent a good 30 minutes talking about blogs and the good things they are doing for the industry. I know oddly enough many a person doesn’t know about blogs and bloggers! David Wind pulled out his cell phone and next I knew I was recommending Joey Hill’s book The Vampire Servant because the cover caught his eye on my blog. Behold the Power of Blogs.

I can’t remember when I made my exit but I would bet those girls (and guy) closed the bar. Me? I went upstairs and passed out, without ever taking a drink. All in all though, it was a blast. Even if I didn’t leave with a copy of Built *g*.

Gwen’s review of The Vampire Queen’s Servant (Vampire Queen, Book 1) by Joey W. Hill
Contemporary paranormal romance published 3 Jul 07 by Berkley Trade

This paranormal romance is set in modern day Atlanta. The hero, Jacob Green, is a drifter and brother of a vampire killer. He is found by the vampire queen’s former servant and is trained to become his replacement. The heroine, Lady Lyssa, is the vampire queen – the oldest of all the “born” vampires. This novel tells how these two people come to know each other, come to terms with each other, and fall in love with each other. But, it isn’t your normal work-a-day romance. No siree. (Side note: isn’t this cover gruesomely attractive?)

There is some freedom for authors when writing a paranormal novel. They can use “magical realism” to introduce magical elements into an otherwise normal reality. In addition, the physical and emotional parameters are stretched to extremes, social taboos are often centerpieces, and villains are often deliciously bad (love a good villain). This novel was no exception.

Servant is heavy on storytelling and narrative, and light on dialogue (though it has enough dialogue to move the story). Books without a lot of dialogue risk losing my attention – this one did not. In fact, Isabel Allende is one of the few authors who’s narrative storytelling style is tolerable to me, with Laurell K. Hamilton’s Merry Gentry novels a distant third. Joey Hill now occupies the coveted second position in Gwen’s Book o’ Authors She Really Likes.

The novel opens with a scene where Lyssa becomes fascinated by Jacob and his irrepressible disobedience. She agrees to take him on, despite serious misgivings. In order for both of them to survive in her world of vampire politics and back-stabbing “friends” she has to teach this alpha male how to submit, how to surrender himself to her will. The push/pull of this predicament is fascinating.

The story of how Lady Lyssa and Jacob come to love each other is not conventional. It’s edgy and sensual and has a vampire-version of HEA. Ms Hill does an exceptional job helping us to understand where everyone is coming from throughout the book – the reader is never left behind.

This novel combines magical realism and storytelling in a way that is irresistible. I read, and read, and read some more until it was all gone. It was very difficult to put down.

Grade: A-

Here’s the book blurb:

      His blood. His soul. His body. Hers for the asking¦

     Lady Elyssa Yamato Amaterasu Wentworth is a centuries-old vampire who’s been given a new servant, Jacob, a total alpha male unaccustomed to submitting to any woman’s wishes. What really binds Jacob to her are not her sensual midnight hungers, but something far more provocative. It stirs her blood, renews her life and awakens her soul like only true love can. The passion between Lyssa and Jacob yields something else unexpected - a shared history that reaches back through the centuries and is fated to challenge their destiny like nothing ever will again.

     Read an excerpt.

Joey W. Hill
Ebook fave Joey W. Hill has sold to Berkley! A two book deal for Vampire Queen’s Servant. Very cool!

Lady Lyssa is a seven-hundred-year-old vampire who finds herself in desperate need of a new human servant. Jacob Green has been a wanderer all his life, trying to stumble into his destiny. Nothing can prepare him for everything that Lyssa demands of her human servant. Besieged by her enemies, guarding secrets that could result in the loss of her ability to protect her territory and those who inhabit it, she needs a man who can stand by her no matter what she asks of him.

There are also free stories on her site, if you haven’t checked them out, go! Peek inside the cauldron too see what else is in store.