Wednesday, September 28, 2011

Patricia Green talks about Serialized Fiction

I’m happy to welcome Patricia Green, author of erotic romance. Patricia is currently touring with Goddessfish Promotions and she stopped by today to talk about serialized fiction and her newest release. Psyched Out is her first self-published project at Smashwords, All Romance eBooks, and Amazon. It's a M/F, Contemporary Erotic Romance with very mild BDSM – but more about that later. Patricia will be sharing an excerpt.

Having begun her writing career at the tender age of seven by publishing a poem in a children’s magazine, Ms. Green has spent many years at typewriter and keyboard. She’s the author of 11 published projects (10 ebooks and one out-of-print traditional book). She a member of EPIC, the Erotic Authors Association, and the Erotica Readers and Writers Association. Ms. Green resides in the Washington DC area, is married to her best friend'

Serialized Fiction by Patricia Green

Serialized fiction has a long, prestigious history. In 1836, Charles Dickens' first novel, The Pickwick Papers, began in serialization as nineteen installments over the course of two years. In 1893, Mark Twain's Pudd'nhead Wilson was also serialized, and, more recently, Stephen King's The Green Mile was added to the list. Today, serialization not only takes place on paper, as with these classic books, but also as "blog-fic," graphic novels, comic books, and serial fiction podcasts. Television, of course, is mostly serialized fiction.

Recently, two of my novellas, Kiki's Millionaire and Strong, Silent Type, were bought for serialization on Bethany's Woodshed a membership site. Although published many times over the years, I found writing for serialization a new challenge. To sell these stories, I had to conform to a template for online serialization. It is not as simple as writing chapters 1-20 and offering them to readers on a regular basis. Each chapter had to be a certain length in order for the reader to feel like she was getting her money's worth with that installment. They had to tell a satisfying segment of the story and provide a memorable lead-in for the reader when a new segment came out a week or a month later. And the whole book had to be complete before it was serialized, meaning that the publisher knew the end of the story would be delivered as reliably as the first chapter. No one wants to pull a Stephen King and offer a serialized story online only to leave it unfinished as he did with The Plant in 2000.

Kiki's Millionaire is serialized bi-monthly, while Strong, Silent Type was serialized weekly, but that won't be the end of them. When their serialization is over and they've been resident on the site long enough for most members to read them, in whole or in segments, they'll be moved to Blushing Books the eBook part of that publisher's marketing program. This provides market diversification for both the publisher and the author, giving us a chance to reach readers of all types.

Jason Pomerantz, of Fiddle and Burn wrote that online serialized fiction has three facets, "brevity, frequency and navigability." These are mutually dependent requirements. The segment can't be so brief that the plot isn't affected, nor so long that readers' eyes get tired reading on the intense medium of a computer monitor. The frequency should relate to the length of the segment—too frequent, long segments might as well be a whole novel in paperback, while infrequent, short segments will cause a reader to lose interest. Finally, the reader must be able to navigate from one chapter/segment to the next and back again. Readers are accustomed to a chapter modality, as with a traditional book. They can move from one chapter to the next and back again to pick up something they missed or to remind themselves of details from prior segments. Skipping navigability means that the reader cannot access the work to follow it.

Understanding these requirements gave me a platform from which I might write stories that sell in the market I'm targeting. Just like any other kind of fiction, if you don't know your market, you will not be successful.

Today's reader has many options for obtaining fiction. Serialization is only one, but it is a tried-and-true method that has been a pigment on the fiction palette for many centuries. The written version is not likely to fade away in the sunlight of too many options, rather, it will fulfill a need for the modern consumer.

My suggestion, if you're a writer, is to consider writing for serialization. It's a worthwhile challenge. And, if you're a reader, patronize sites that offer serialized fiction and you will find that you're reading something differently satisfying. I might not be of the caliber of Mark Twain or Stephen King, but I find myself on the list of writers who have taken a chance on serialized fiction. It's an honor and a pleasure to be here!

To read excerpts of my serialized fiction (and other works), you can travel to Patricia Green Books:

Find Patricia on Facebook:

Twitter: @PatriciaIGreen

Amazon Author Page:


Now more about Patricia's newest book: Psyched Out - released on 8/15/2011


When Lu Shenandoah and Philip Pines meet at a professional conference, there is an instant attraction. Unfortunately, Lu is sure that a famous guy like Philip wouldn’t be interested in a woman as awkward as she. And there’s her embarrassing interest in BDSM to deal with. She’s sure she could never admit that she’d secretly like to submit.

Philip, a very prominent author of a bestselling self-help book, is sure his BDSM dominance would overwhelm sweet and innocent Lu and it keeps him from pursuing her even though he’s drawn to her kittenish charm.

There are some really awkward moments when they run into each other at an all-inclusive island paradise, but how can they resist serendipity?

ISBN: Smashwords 978-1-4657-5502-5
Length: approximately 7,300 words/13 pages
Publisher: Patricia's first self-published project
Buy links: 99 cents at:
All Romance eBooks:


Lu lugged fifteen pounds of conference binders in one arm. Her glasses slid down her nose, teetering at the end. She shifted the cloth bag of conference swag she’d collected, and her purse fell off her shoulder. Fumbling became juggling, juggling became dropping, and the whole mess hit the floor in a heap of papers, conference-labeled pens, her glasses, and her purse which tumbled its contents in an embarrassing mess right there on the hotel’s low-pile carpet. Sighing, she knelt to collect her stuff. The hallway was empty for the moment, all the other conference attendees in session.

Except for one. “Let me help you, Miss.”

Lu looked up and put her glasses back on, focusing on a man with a deep, resonant voice. He was gorgeous. Drop dead hunk material. And here she was on her knees putting t-shirts reading “I Went To PsychCon 2011, Or I Think I Did” into her swag bag.

The deep green of his gaze was as inviting as an Irish meadow. She wanted to hurtle through, swinging her arms like a dervish, laughing in the sunlight. Lu yanked herself back to reality. “Thank you, but I’ve got it,” she said, lowering her eyes.

He wasn’t taking “no thanks” for an answer, however, and began picking up the contents of her purse.

It was then that Lu saw two condoms on the floor next to a lipstick tube. Condoms! Oh my God! She was going to kill her roommate Mimi.

Horrified, Lu watched his hand as it moved toward a foil-wrapped contraceptive, and she quickly grabbed the pair and tucked them in her purse. “Those aren’t mine!”

He looked up at her and, although she kept her head tilted down, she saw his skeptical look through her eyelashes. “There are better brands,” he offered.

She tried not to groan, flushed to the tips of her toes. “My roommate Mimi put them in my purse, she had some crazy idea… With the summertime conference and all… I mean-”

He patted her hand as she grasped a lipstick. “Sure. Roommate Mimi. I understand.”

His eyes held a twinkle of humor and a warm glow. He wasn’t laughing at her, exactly. It was friendlier than that. Her lips turned up a little at the corners. It was kind of funny, in a humiliating way.

He straightened the conference binders as she finished putting the rest of the stuff away. “Philip Pines.” His hand was tanned, fingers strong-looking. There was something familiar about his name. Pines, Pines, Pines?

The bag handles chose that moment to wrap around her fingers. After she fought them off, she shook his hand. “Lu Shenandoah.”

“Shenandoah like the author of ‘Juvenile Psychosis and Bullying Behavior?’” He asked, leaning back on his heel, his hands relaxed on his bent knee.

Her eyes dropped back to the floor. She’d written the paper because it had to be written, not for fame or professional acclaim. And yet, those two things came along with publication. “Yes, that was me.”

His fingers felt warm on her chin as he tilted her head up so she’d look at his face. “Don’t be so modest. That was a brilliant monograph.”

A sneeze formed behind her nose and she twitched her face trying to hold it off. She was so allergic to the summer foliage outside. She wriggled her nose desperately but nothing helped. Unable to stifle it, she turned her head and sneezed into the crook of her elbow. It left a wet smear on her blue suit coat.

Once again her face flamed. She glanced at Philip and he held out a handkerchief.

“Thank you,” was all she could master, deeply embarrassed.

Lu wiped her nose and her sleeve—yuck!—and almost handed his handkerchief back, then realized how disgusting that would be. “Um, I’ll wash it and send it to you. Do you have a card with an address on it?”

“You can bring it to my room, Lu.”

A tingle of pure, feminine pleasure sped its way along Lu’s spine. This gorgeous man was propositioning her. Just like Mimi said, guys at these conferences were horny and available. Of course, Lu didn’t know if she was up to a one-night stand. Mixing her professional life with her private life might be imprudent. His brown hair and green eyes were so attractive, his shoulders broad under a well-tailored dark suit, shirt and tie combo well matched in shades of cream and gold. How could she resist?

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Tuesday, September 27, 2011

My New Cover!! HELLFIRE

Just this minute got the new cover for Hellfire and I'm loving it. The art work is by the very talented Jinger Heaston. Projected release is November 2011, I'll let you know if that changes. Here's a sneak peek at the storyline.

Kate is hiding her Lycan identity. Even her human lover doesn't know she's half wolf. But how long can she keep her secret when two sexy wolf-shifters show up determined to bring her into their pack.

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Monday, September 26, 2011

Rose Anderson talks about Ghosts and Impossible Love

I'm happy to start the week off with a visit from Siren sister, Rose Anderson. Rose is the author of the smoking hot romance Hermes Online. Today she's talking about ghosts, impossible love and her newest release. Dreamscape is a page-turner that has it all: romance, mystery, and sensuality. Rose is sharing an excerpt below. Enjoy!

Can a ghost find love among the living?

One of my favorite old black and white movies is The Ghost and Mrs. Muir. In it, a nearly destitute widow, Lucy Muir, comes to live seaside in a house that once belonged to a cantankerous old sea dog named Captain Daniel Gregg. He tries to scare her off, but as a woman with few options at the turn of the last century, she holds her ground. As the story unfolds, the two form an unlikely friendship that culminates at the end of her life when he returns, takes her by the hand, and walks with her into the mist.

To this day I harbor (no pun intended) a crush on the craggy captain portrayed so perfectly by Rex Harrison. I’ve always thought it unfortunate that Gene Tierney played the leading lady. No offense to the actors in the Golden Age of Hollywood, but she was too one dimensional of an actress for that part, in my opinion. Beyond the poor acting by the actress, the character of Mrs. Muir was wishy-washy. As a girl, I knew had I been Mrs. Muir, I could love Daniel Gregg without thinking twice. I also knew there really was no future in it. When I wrote Dreamscape, I held that unfortunate fact in mind.

My impossible love story involves Dr. Jason Bowen, deceased, and Dr. Elaine O’Keefe, who’s very much alive -- two people with similar professions, separated by time and death. Here’s the blurb:

Unable to deny his own translucence, Dr. Jason Bowen determines his lack of physical substance could only mean one thing—he’s a ghost. Murdered more than a century before, Jason haunts his house and ponders the treachery that took his life. When Lanie O’Keefe arrives with plans to renovate her newly purchased Victorian mansion, Jason discovers, ghost or not, he’s still very much a man. Despite its derelict condition and haunted reputation, Lanie couldn’t be happier with her new home, but then she has no idea a spirit follows her every move throughout the day and shares her captivating warmth at night. Jason soon discovers he can travel through Lanie’s dreams and finds himself reliving the days before his murder with Lanie by his side. It took one hundred and twenty years for love to find them, but there’s that insurmountable little matter of Jason being dead.

What a huge hurdle to jump, eh? :) I love the challenge of working with the impossible. I won’t tell you how the story goes, but readers will get more than an impossible love story with Dreamscape. Written in homage to Agatha Christie, Dreamscape is a reader's Easter egg hunt in the truest sense. Peppered throughout are hints suggesting a story behind the scenes. Here’s a teaser:

Seeing the ghost of Jason Bowen for the first time, Lanie faints and falls to the floor. Coming to, she doesn't believe what she's seen and writes it off as simply a fearful reaction to a severe thunderstorm. Laughing away her overactive imagination, she playfully calls the ghost to her bath. Little does she realize he'd actually come to this innocent invitation.


[Siren Classic: Erotic Paranormal Romance, ghosts]

Unable to deny his own translucence, Dr. Jason Bowen determines his lack of physical substance could only mean one thing—he’s a ghost. Murdered more than a century before, Jason haunts his house and ponders the treachery that took his life.

When Lanie O’Keefe arrives with plans to renovate her newly purchased Victorian mansion, Jason discovers, ghost or not, he’s still very much a man.

Despite its derelict condition and haunted reputation, Lanie couldn’t be happier with her new home, but then she has no idea a spirit follows her every move throughout the day and shares her captivating warmth at night. Jason soon discovers he can travel through Lanie’s dreams and finds himself reliving the days before his murder with Lanie by his side.

It took one hundred and twenty years for love to find them, but there’s that insurmountable little matter of Jason being dead.

Available at Bookstrand:


Summer birds were now singing their twilight song, and Lanie woke with no clear notion on how she came to be on the floor. The last thing she remembered was the deafening roar of the hail on the cupola's copper roof. No, the last thing she remembered was coming face to face with a ghost. So Jason Bowen really did haunt this house. Catching glimpses of some movement out of the corner of her eye all these weeks wasn't a figment of her imagination.

She'd heard the stories as a girl, those playground conversations of how the ghost of Jason Bowen killed kids whenever he appeared. Early on she'd wondered how crazy stories like that ever got started and had decided it most likely came from parents wanting their children to stay away from abandoned houses where they could get hurt. The recently identified Jason Bowen was the man in her dreams, the same man she'd had a crush on since her late teens. Lanie sighed wistfully. There was no future in loving a ghost, none at all.

Deciding a long, soaking bath was the perfect solution for the helplessly lovelorn, she opened the windows to the storm-clean air and headed downstairs to do just that. The instant Lanie turned on the bathroom light the bulb blew with a pop, the surprise of it eliciting her squeak. After turning the water full-blast to hot, she went rummaging through the built-in bureau drawer for matches with which to light the scented candle on her nightstand. Setting it on the top of the toilet tank, she undressed then turned to the mirror to pin up her hair.

The upper portion of a man projected upon the steam as if it were a movie screen. Her mirrored reflection clearly showed him standing just behind her, his form outlined in blue light. She whirled around but found herself alone. She eyed the mirror again. There really had been a man's face visible for an instant before it evaporated. And although the image was brief, it looked like Jason Bowen.

Lanie shook her head. Now that she knew exactly what Jason Bowen looked like from his portrait and photograph, was she going to believe she was seeing him around every corner? "Yeah, wishful thinking." She had to admit Dr. Jason Bowen had a presence, at least to her sleeping mind he did. If her imagination was a fraction of what he was truly like when he lived, then Mmm mmm mmm. Steeped in her flight of fancy, she spoke as if the figment of her imagination stood there in the flesh. "I was hoping you'd keep me company while I took a bath…" Taking a fanciful stab she added, "Jason."

Standing nearby, Jason blinked in disbelief. He focused his mind and appeared an instant later in the kitchen. No, this wasn't his time, the modern appliances proved that. He appeared a split second later back in the doorway to her bath and found her in the tub with her eyes closed. Deliberating if he should speak or not, he reasoned she wouldn't have used his name if she didn't know he was there—an invitation to her bath no less. The male part of him replied, "Yes, I'm here, Lanie."

Seeing the instant change in her expression, Jason's logical mind half expected her to shriek and run bare-assed out of the house.

"Oh, my god." She said the words under her breath and sunk deeper into the water.

He sat on the commode, not quite knowing what the hell had just happened. In fact, he found her reaction to him perplexing. For all appearances she acted like she knew he was there. She called him by name yet went rigid when he replied. Fear perhaps? He hoped not. "You were jesting?"

"Where are you?"

Jason materialized sitting on the closed toilet seat. The stunned expression on Lanie's face making him feel apprehensive, he begged her silently, Please don't run away.

Find Rose Anderson online:


Wednesday, September 21, 2011

Wannabe a Writer We've Heard Of?

I'm excited to have Jane Wenham-Jones here today. Jane is a novelist, journalist and presenter and the author of the Wannabe Books - two how-to manuals on getting published and becoming well-known. Her solid advice is given in her own easy to read, humorous style. Below is an extract from Wannabe a Writer We've Heard Of?, available on Amazon or through all good bookshops.
For more on Jane see

Amazon – a double-edged sword

There is no doubt that Amazon can be a wonderful tool for the modern writer. Readers can see all your books at the click of a mouse, order them instantly while the iron is hot – when they’ve just heard you on the radio for example, or seen you on TV – and have access to feedback from others who’ve already made a purchase..

You can collect glowing reviews, post your own comments and author info and build yourself a profile. You can also become obsessive about your ratings if so inclined. (I am.)

If you have a website, you can link to Amazon and potential customers can click through to the store from there. Many authors have a ‘shop’ page – I do myself – with thumbnail images of their covers that go directly to the corresponding page at the bookstore.

If you join the Amazon Associates Programme (details on the Amazon site), traffic originating from your site will be tracked and you will earn a commission on any resulting sales – of anything, not just your books.

These small payments can accrue quite nicely and while you’re unlikely to be able to retire on them, they may well keep you in chocolate from time to time.

For any author who is self-published or whose books have not been widely distributed in the High Street, Amazon can be a godsend.

You can have a fair idea of whether stock is moving – each book’s ranking is updated hourly; there’s a lot of cross referencing – “customers who bought this item also bought”, etc., which can increase awareness and sales; and customers are positively encouraged to write reviews and comment on the reviews of others – both of which are simple to do. So far so good.

The only fly in the ointment is that as far as the reviews go, there are millions of books on the site, millions of readers posting their thoughts and you may find some of them unwelcome.

Readers are invited to award one to five stars to a book they’ve read and if you find you’ve been given only one and your book, that you spent a long year of your life sweating blood and tears over has been pronounced “Unintelligible Bilge that’s a waste of the rain forest” you may, understandably, feel upset.

But everyone is entitled to their opinion. Sometimes readers will just hate a book and that I’m afraid is something we have to take on the chin. You can’t please ’em all and nor should you expect to.

However, it can be galling if the reviewer is clearly just trying to plug a rival book or something of their own, and puts up negative reviews purely in order to bring your average star rating down. What can you do about it? If they’re clever about it, not a lot. But they often aren’t…

Fiona Mackenzie is the author of How to Start and Run a Petsitting Business (How-to Books). She received what she describes as a “heart-stopping” review on Amazon.

My one star review advised that I was “no writer” and that anyone wanting to be a petsitter should join a certain fee-paying association. The review ended with ‘sorry sweetheart’.”

Since this appeared to have been written entirely to further the reviewer’s own ends, Fiona decided to investigate.

“I had no idea who this person was but I did a search on the internet with her username and found her on ebay. It felt good being able to see who she was and that she had links within the pet care world so perhaps had an agenda. I then contacted Amazon and said as I’d had a book published by a highly respected publisher, clearly I was a writer and if they let the review stand it would reflect on other ‘How To’ books. I tried to avoid making it all about me. Amazon took the review down within twenty-four hours.

Amazon takes all complaints seriously but obviously you cannot complain just because someone doesn’t like your book and says so.

Everyone has the right to free speech and is entitled to their view – which is entirely as it should be. However, if you feel that any reviews or comments made are actually defamatory then you can say so. Amazon has a procedure for reporting such things.

After two years of largely positive reviews of my first Wannabe book, I had a sudden spate of one star reviews myself.

They came from different names but were all very similar in content – each one seemed to be getting het up over the fact that others had described my book as “brilliant” when it very clearly wasn’t, and opining that one would do far better to read Stephen King.

The former was reasonable, if a little obsessive, and I can hardly disagree with the latter since I recommend On Writing by the awe-inspiring Mr King myself, in Wannabe a Writer?

However, the reviewer, not content with popping up several times saying this, then descended into what amounted to libel by accusing me on several occasions of either writing the five-star reviews myself or asking my friends to.

Several of the reviewer’s own ‘friends’ materialised to agree.

This was utterly untrue. My publishers reported it as defamatory and the offending comments were removed. I can’t stop this person reappearing any time he wants to – and from time to time, he does. I’m not always sure what is said because Amazon themselves have often deleted the comments before I’ve got there – and a note has been left to this effect – but as this has happened, one can assume they fell into the abusive or libellous category.

Such behaviour is not worth getting steamed up about – one could indeed feel sorry for the kind of person who finds this a fulfilling way to spend their time – but it is worth keeping an eye out for.

Just to be clear: if reviewers are merely stating their opinion – honestly held – you haven’t got a leg to stand on. If they are making any claims that are untrue, and therefore they will be unable to substantiate them, then you have a case to report them to Amazon as defamatory and Amazon will take action. (Details of how to make such a report are clearly laid out on the site.)

For example.

“I hate this book”

“This book made me throw up my breakfast”

“This book is inane, facile, full of useless information and the author is a dork”

(Which, I think, is what my admirer was trying to get at) are all fine but:

“The author has plagiarised A.N. Dork in the writing of this dreadful book”, or

“This author is a convicted criminal who roasts hamsters and eats them”, or

“This book is the most expensive of its type on the market”

when these statements are false and unproven, are not acceptable and you have every right to ask for them to be removed.


This entertaining follow-up to the successful Wannabe a Writer? is an essential read for every author and would-be best-seller, whether established or debut, self-published or still dreaming of the limelight. In today s celebrity-driven world, self-confessed media tart Jane Wenham-Jones, takes us on an uproarious ride along the publicity trail from getting the perfect promotional photo to choosing clothes to wear on TV. With anecdotes from Jane s own numerous media exploits, Wannabe a Writer We ve Heard Of? is packed with tips and tricks to help you get yourself noticed, gain maximum column inches and airtime and create online buzz for your books and projects. Offering advice and insights from writers, journalists, publicists and celebrities who ve been there and done that, this is the ultimate guide for anyone longing for fame and success. Includes contributions from Joanna Trollope, Richard Madeley, Tracey Emin, India Knight, Shazia Mirza, Kelvin MacKenzie, Lucy Mangan, Katie Fforde, Joanne Harris, Helen Lederer, Peter James, Carole Blake, Stanley Johnson, Sue Cook, Carole Matthews, John Hegley, Carol Midgley, Sam Leith, Lisa Jewell, Giles Coren, Robert Crampton, Tim Dowling, Mike Gayle, Marina O Loughlin, Suzanne Moore, Sir Roy Strong and Erica Wagner. Foreword by Jill Mansell.

Wannabe a Writer Site:

Buy links:
Amazon UK (paperback)

Amazon UK (Kindle)

Amazon US (paperback)

Amazon US (Kindle)

The Book Depository

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Monday, September 19, 2011

Force Recon Somalia - New Release Excerpt

Force Recon Somalia by BethAnn Buehler, JA Lawson, Lila Munro and JL Oiler

This new release is another great story in the Force Recon series, romance and adventure in a realistic setting. It's a page-turner with characters so real, you'll feel like you know them. The authors are sharing an excerpt today. Enjoy!


After surviving the vacation from hell in Beacon Bayou, the Force Recon team finds themselves one relationship, one fiancĂ©, one child, and one marriage more than before they left Camp Lejeune for leave. But before they have a chance to process how a few days so completely changed their lives, they’re called away to Somalia, a hot bed of pirate activity. Their mission--rescue an embedded female marine taken prisoner.

Being a female marine isn’t easy for Allison Blaise. Choosing a life that's all about proving herself worthy of being one of the few and the proud right alongside her male counterparts, Alli volunteers for every special assignment that comes down the pipeline. This time that "go-to" attitude has landed her a stay as a prisoner to a few unsavory Somali pirates. After watching her four man extraction team be virtually destroyed before her eyes, Alli finds herself inexplicably drawn to the team leader, Brogan Baker. But that part of her that would normally heel to a Dominant man’s been damaged, and she fears it may be permanent.

Eric Ryan, AKA Chaos, has only been with the team a few weeks when he realizes he's got a few problems on his hands. Not only is he replacing a dead man, he’s vying for control of a team whose current leader knows all his dirty little secrets. While he’d like to be topped by the man in charge he knows it’s probably impossible and Eric’s discovered something in him is attracted to the woman attached to Brogan's side every waking minute.

With their team in a constant state of change and under duress, Aaron finds himself struggling to accept the notion that he's worth being loved and unable to impress his soon to be grandfather -in-law. Worse, he can’t shake the guilt that’s haunted him ever since the botched rescue in Somalia. But Aaron’s not the only one with problems. Gabe thought his life was under control until Ros reveals yet another secret, one he’s so distracted by he almost doesn’t survive the trip home from Somalia. A secret Ros may not survive either.

Just when they thought they were strong enough to make it through anything, the Force Recon team is once again faced with enough to either make them or break them.

Available here:

Published By: Rebel Ink Press LLC
ISBN # 9781937265182
Word Count: 132,275
Heat Index 5 Flames
Price: $6.99


Rolling over one more time, Alli looked at the clock on her bedside table. One more sleepless night. When would there be any relief? When would she be able to just let go a little and let darkness overtake her if only for a few hours?

She pulled herself up and headed for the kitchen. She’d like nothing more than to make an entire pot of coffee and suck it down through a straw, but if her doctors found out she was doing anything less than what they’d advised, the next step might very well be some type of inpatient bull shit at the sleep clinic. Alli rubbed her eyes and opened the refrigerator, stared at the near bare shelves blankly then walked away again. Nothing appealed to her. Again. Before she could make it to the couch and sink into it, someone knocked at the door. Who the holy hell? If her dad and brother didn’t stop their surprise visits to make sure she was still breathing and keeping dirty laundry to herself, she was going to call command and have restraining orders put out on their asses for harassment.

“Go away, Daddy,” Alli cried, running her hands through her hair. “I’m fine. I was fine the last time, I’m fine today and I’ll be fine tomorrow. It’s zero-fucking-dark-thirty—go away!”

The voice that answered from the other side of the flimsy wood was not at all what Alli expected. She rushed over and peeked through the peep hole. Sure enough there stood Brogan. He looked as bad as Alli felt. He was in the same clothes he’d been in the previous afternoon, he looked like he hadn’t slept and he definitely hadn’t shaved. She jerked the door open and glared at him, forgetting all she wore was a thin tee shirt that barely covered her ass. Her perfectly bare ass at that.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Gunny?” she said, spearing him with a hateful stare. “Did Daddy send you out on Alli patrol? Well you can go tell the son-of-a-bitch I’m not out running alone with my ear buds in and I didn’t tell my shrink anything I shouldn’t. I’m tucked away inside the house like a good girl.”

Alli attempted to slam the door in his face only to have him reach out and put both hands along the edge, fighting her for control of it.

“What do you want?” she growled, struggling against his grip. “Why, oh why, do you keep tracking me down and making me…” Alli slapped her mouth shut unwilling to admit he made her want things from him she shouldn’t. With one final shove, Brogan won the door war and let himself in. “What do you think you’re doing?” she cried. “Do you always go around this early breaking and entering at will where ever you please?”

It was then that Alli noticed Brogan was staring between her legs and she grabbed the bottom of her shirt, holding it down. She didn’t fully understand why it bothered her. Hell plenty of men had seen her pussy in all its blaze and glory at the club. Wasn’t Brogan seeing it exactly what she wanted? Maybe. But she had a feeling if he stared at it just the right way it would burst into flames. The hungry look in his eyes sent a shudder out over Alli and as he advanced toward her she backed up further, wondering if she could outrun him. Probably not, she deduced. Just as she thought he’d grab her and do what she had no idea, he sat down like he lived there.

“Would you like the remote?” she asked sarcastically. “How about some breakfast, Mas…” Alli’s hand flew to her lips and she trembled at the look that passed through Brogan’s stormy eyes. Clearly wrong answer. “Why are you here?” she whispered from behind her fingers.

“It’s all about trust, but it doesn’t have to happen at some club in the middle of nowhere with a stranger. You’re wrong,” Brogan informed her flatly.

Alli’s blood boiled and she spewed a diatribe of accusations and cryptic comments at him and when she stopped before she could catch her wind, Brogan jerked her into his lap, possessing her mouth. Everything in her brain yelled no while everything in her body yelled yes. By default her body won. She opened to his sweet assault and moaned into his mouth before she could reason herself out of it. She knew she shouldn’t be doing this. It was all wrong and Brogan definitely didn’t understand her or what she needed. Then, before she was finished absorbing him, she found herself abruptly thrown face down across his knees with her toes skimming the carpet and her palms flat on the floor.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Gunny?” Alli bit out. “Let me go.”

Denying her request, Brogan ran his hand over her now bared ass as if defining his territory. Oh hell no.

Purchase Information:

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Sunday, September 18, 2011


This is the last day of the OC BikeFest which runs September 15th – 18th. It's a yearly celebration that happens simultaneously with the DelMarVa Bike Rally, which attracts over 120,000 motorcycling enthusiasts to the inland town of Salisbury, MD. I don't know how many bikers are here at the beach, but it's a lot. They come down for the gated event at the inlet. There are concerts, stunt shows, custom bike builders, motorcycle vendors, shops, and rides. Not to mention the 3‐mile‐long boardwalk.

I'm usually down here for bike week and it's a blast. Saturday it rained all day but it didn't keep the bikers inside – or us either. I saw them riding down Coastal Highway, and generally having a great time at the fabulous bars and restaurants in Ocean City. Looks like the rain is clearing up today and Sunday will be beautiful. Come on down!

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Saturday, September 17, 2011

Grandparents Day

National Grandparents Day is celebrated in September and this year it fell on the eleventh, the tenth anniversary of the 9/11 terrorist attacks. On that day we were all focused on the past. But yesterday we had a grandparent's day at my grandson's preschool and it was all about the future. It was a great day. The kids gave us flowers and pictures they drew. They sang songs and served cookies and punch. I loved seeing all those happy smiling faces. and it made me think of an old quote: Grandchildren are God's way of compensating us for growing old. It's a wonderful trade off. And I am totally awed by what a great job their parents are doing. Love you guys!

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

Prepare to be Shocked - by Xavier Axelson

It's great to welcome back Xavier Axelson, author of Dutch's Boy. He has a new release, The Incident, which is excellent by the way. More on that later. Here's Xavier…

Brace yourself, what I’m about to say will shock you. I was talking about writing the other day (aren’t you shocked?) Do writers ever talk about anything else? I bet if you asked anyone near a writer they wouldn’t argue this one bit. It’s like those people who talk incessantly about their children and grandchildren (ugh!)

Writing is infinitely more interesting, isn’t? I TRY not to be one of those people who snares my friends and families into endless diatribes about characters, plot and just how do I get my hero back from whatever netherworld I have just cast him, but if they ask then its open season. Even then, I limit how long I go on about what I’m doing. First off, I get tired of hearing myself talk about what I’m writing and occasionally I get tired of thinking about what I’m writing.


Writers spend enough time in their own heads, thinking about their own words and what said words are trying to convey. When I finally tear myself away from the glare of the computer screen, it is a relief to hear about a friend’s sugar daddy whisking her off to Vegas for dugs, debauchery, and endless fucking.

Wait, isn’t that what your friends talk to you about?

So when I was asked recently to explain magical realism I found myself in a conversation that started about writing and spiraled into the classification system of Fiction. This conversation allowed me to use my skills as a publicist (pretending to know what you are talking about) and as a Library Tech (the anal classification and breakdown thing. Got it!) I explained magical realism as any story that takes place in a familiar setting where extraordinary things take place. Is that right? It sounded right. I am a huge fan of this genre and actually write what I think is magical realism when I am not writing about men having it off with one another.

God, I hope that was right. If not, I’m sure someone will clarify, but as this was an on the fly convo I thought I did pretty good.

“What about The Witches of Eastwick?” My inquisitive friend asked, “Is that magical realism?”

Now, being a fan of the book and the movie I had to think. I’ve seen the movie classified as horror and as comedy. The book definitely was darker (in my opinion) than the movie but also told like a fable/allegory, again, my opinion. So this led me to the classification of the book. I started by saying that first off its fiction which could then be broken down to a subgenre of horror with allegory and yes, elements of magical realism. It could also be romance? Erotic romance? I found the book to be quite sexy.

We then began discussing erotica and all the sub genres that I’ve encountered in this realm. Contemporary romance/erotica? Menage? BDSM? Western? It goes on and on. I told my friend that romance is like the mother ship and erotica is the spawn. When I began explaining sub categories of categories they just looked at me like I was speaking Greek, and for the record, I might have actually slipped into clicks and beeps and not realized it.

How do you tag/classify your writing? You go on Amazon and pull up a book and POW! There seven other categories and tags you NEVER even thought of. With “The Incident,” I found on some sites it is classified as “contemporary” a genre that still seems odd to me, don’t know why, but I’d like to know what the timeline is and cut off when something is no longer contemporary? Is it like the difference between vintage and antique?

Was there a huge meeting of erotica and romance Gods/Goddesses who created a timeline and deemed it so?

Just asking.

So two things; stop talking about your writing; give your peeps and your mouth a break. Believe me, even when people ask, they really aren’t that interested (at least not after the first 10 minutes) and second, pay attention to how your work is being classified and what tags are being attached to it. I find myself copying and pasting tags all the time, because, I definitely don’t remember the 800 possible combinations any one piece of writing can be explained.

I bring you back to my clumsy classification of The Witches of Eastwick. I’m sure it could be broken down infinitely. Even as I’m writing this, I’m already coming up with further classifications and where and how it would be filed in the great library in the sky.

Classifications suck. But you don’t have to. Be a cool kid and check me out at where classifications go the way of the dinosaurs. When you work with people who are shopping for gags with toilet brushes attached, you learn very quickly that classifying anything is dangerous.

I’m also over at the Examiner where I’m classified as a sex advice column (scary!)
 Go see!


The Incident (eBook) by Xavier Axelson
ISBN: 978-0-9828143-9-0
Length: novella

In the line of duty, decisions that will change your life forever are made in a split-second. Nobody knows that better than Officer Michael Carmac, whose fatal split-second decision haunts his days. Tormented by guilt, Michael seeks solace in a bottle and the friendship he has with his partner, Officer Bertram Angel. But the more he leans on Angel for support, the more Michael discovers a longing that he’s kept hidden for too long. Can Angel help ease the pain of guilt or will Michael’s hidden desires be the end of their friendship?

Available at Seventh Window:

Buy my books at Seventh Window Publications and Silver Publishing.

Look for new stuff from me in the coming months!!! Or ELSE…

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Sunday, September 11, 2011

Remembering September 11, 2001

People will forever remember exactly what they were doing when tragedy struck on September 11, 2001. I was at work. One of my coworkers had a tiny portable TV and he was watching instead of working. He let out a scream and we all gathered around his 2.5 inch screen. My heart dropped and my first thought was for my son who was working at the Nickelodeon Animation Studio at 1515 Broadway. I tried calling him every five minutes but there was no service. Needless to say, I was a wreck until he managed to get through and tell me he was okay.

That day changed all of us. Before 9/11 I thought nothing like that could ever happen in America. I was wrong. Now we live with fear and I've learned to appreciate and enjoy every minute of life and family. My thoughts and sympathies go out to all those affected by the senseless attack.

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Saturday, September 10, 2011

Caveat Emptor 4: Anguished Lover by Zenobia Renquist

I'm happy to have Zenobia Renquist here today, sharing an excerpt from her new release - Anguished Lover. This is book four of her Caveat Emptor series.

The series has an intriguing premise and like the preceding books, this one has romance and adventure. The chemistry between the characters is sizzling. If you like vampires, it's a must read. Enjoy the excerpt below!

Caveat Emptor 4: Anguished Lover by Zenobia Renquist
Changeling Press
eBook ISBN: 978-1-60521-674-4
Genre: Erotic, Paranormal/Fantasy, Vampire, Action/Adventure, BBW, Interracial, Magic
Price: $3.49

To save their love, Sicily may have to sacrifice her life.

Sicily has volunteered to put herself on the front lines in the vampires' fight against the mages. Lamon has no choice but to go with her to keep her safe. When the worst happens, Sicily has to find out just what she's willing to sacrifice to save the lives of her lover and her friends.

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Sicily had to do something. Obviously her prison didn’t have a warding spell around it. Then again, her captors probably didn’t know about the puppet spell. If Ryver hadn’t been nearby, Sicily would let the puppet spell come back full force just so the mages could attack her captors.

That wasn’t an option, which left only one choice.

She couldn’t wait for the taunting men at the bars to leave. Her resistance to Mage Lord Quincy’s commands wouldn’t last much longer.

She unthreaded her fingers and undid her jeans.

“Sissy, what are you doing?” Ryver’s voice was high and disbelieving.

One of the men at the bars whistled. “Yeah. Take it off.”

The other men joined him, yelling encouragement and crude remarks. Sicily ignored them as she pulled off her jeans and panties in one move. She would have to block the men out if her plan was to work.

She tossed her jeans over her shoulder at Ryver, not trusting herself to actually face her friend. “Wear my jeans.”

“Sissy, what --”

“Just do it, Ryver. Put them on and go to the corner. Face the corner. No matter what, don’t look back. Okay? Do that for me.”


“Now, Ryver.” Sicily barked the last.

Ryver made an affirmative noise and moved away. The sound of clothing rustling and then a zipper preceded Ryver saying, “Okay, Sissy. I’m in the corner. Now what?”

She sounded annoyed but Sicily didn’t care so long as Ryver stayed facing the corner.

One of the men said, “You didn’t have to send her away. Call her back.”

Sicily said in a coy voice, “And ruin my one-on-one time with you beautiful gentlemen? I think not.”

She slid onto the cot with her knees up, faced the men, and then let her knees fall open. The men cheered her display. Their words made Sicily feel ashamed and embarrassed.

It didn’t matter, though. She had to do this. Only sexual energy would disrupt the puppet spell. She had to get herself off. All she had to do was block the men out while she played with herself. Easy.

Yeah, right.

She closed her eyes as she reached between her legs.

One of the men said, “Yeah, baby. Show me what you got.”

Ignore him, Sicily coached herself. He’s not there. You’re alone. No, better yet, Lamon is with you. He’s watching you.

That thought heated her body instantly. That was the key. She didn’t need to pretend the men weren’t there. She only had to pretend Lamon was.

He was there. She would make herself believe that with every fiber of her being. It was his words urging her on as she spread her pussy lips and touched her clit. His sounds of appreciation that made her dripping wet.

She strummed her fingers over her clit, playing her flesh the way Lamon would. She imagined his hand covering hers and guiding her fingers. Her pussy muscles ached to feel him deep inside.

But he wouldn’t indulge her. Not yet. He would spread her pussy lips wide for the men gawking at her. He would show them how wet he could get her with a simple touch. It should be embarrassing, but she was long past caring. He only had to keep touching her for her to continue thinking that way.

“Damn. She’s drenching the cot,” one of the men said.

Ryver whispered in a scared voice, “Sissy?”

“Shut up. Don’t look.” Sicily snapped that command, but hadn’t meant to be so harsh.

She didn’t care if the men stared at her. They were only helping her little fantasy. She didn’t want Ryver seeing her like this. Just thinking that made her hot flesh cooler.


She had to keep up the fantasy. Lamon was there with her. He was there. She made herself believe that even as she squeezed her eyes tighter shut, forcing out the reality that he wasn’t.

Zenobia Renquist

Discover Different and Unique Romance

Caveat Emptor Series - Follow three couples as they struggle with love during a vampire-mage war.

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Thursday, September 8, 2011

R. Ann Siracusa - All For Spilled Blood

Travel to exotic foreign lands for romance and intrigue with one of R. Ann Siracusa's humorous romantic suspense novels. ALL FOR SPILLED BLOOD is Book 4 of the Tour Director Extraordinaire series. It will be released in September and Ms. Siracusa is sharing an excerpt today. Enjoy!

Harriet Ruby, tour director extraordinaire, and her fiancĂ© and favorite spy, Will Talbot, travel to Russia undercover as tour directors for the US delegation to an international youth conference. Harriet tackles her first covert assignment to investigate smuggled artwork while Will’s mission is to locate and destroy a group of terrorists recruiting young computer experts.

Their marriage plans hit a snag when Will locates a long-lost cousin with startling news about his heritage. When the artwork being smuggled has particular significance to one of the terrorist sympathizers, their missions entangle and begin to unravel, leaving Will at the mercy of terrorist kidnappers and Harriet holding the bag.

Sapphire Blue Publishing:

R. Ann Siracusa's Website:

R. Ann Siracusa's on Amazon:


As we kissed, he lifted my sweater and ran his hand up my rib cage. “You came prepared.”

“No point in wasting time. First one naked gets to be on top.”

He let me go, but kept his hands on my arms. “Not so fast. I have to secure the door.” Still holding one of my wrists, he clicked all his spy locks into place. “Besides, we’re not in a hurry.”

“We’re not? What’s changed?” Usually we couldn’t keep our hands off each other.

“Nothing, except this could be our last uninterrupted time together for a while. I want to take it slow.” I hadn’t seen that coming, but he gave me a kiss that sent me reeling. I knew he meant business, no matter how long it took. “Besides, I have something for you.”

He detached himself and went into the bathroom. I had something for him, too. I’d stripped down to my thong when he returned carrying a small container like a miniscule ice chest.

I hesitated, scrutinizing it with a frown. “What’s that? It looks like one of those sterile containers for transporting medical supplies.”

“You’re close. It’s the refrigerated version for transporting donor organs.” He set it on the table. With great ceremony he went about unlocking it and popped open the lid. “Take a look.”

Donor organs? Oh boy. I hesitated and did a nose wrinkle. I hoped it didn’t contain body parts. Ice cream would be good, though. I gathered my courage and peered inside.

“Bubble wrap?” I’d expected to see ice. At least a frozen cooler pack.

“Open it.”

While I had no desire to do that, I didn’t want to appear ungrateful. I lifted out the wrapped objects and unwound them from the plastic. My eyes widened.

“Reddi-wip and chocolate syrup? Yum. My favorites.” I licked my lips. “Where did these come from?”

He had already kicked off his shoes and unzipped his slacks. “For me to know and for you to enjoy.”

He moved so slowly, I began to fumble with the buttons on his shirt, just to hurry things along. “C’mon, tell me.”

“Don’t you want to know what I’m going to do with it?”

“I already have a pretty good idea what.” I shoved off his shirt and ran my fingers through the fine hairs on his chest, then ran my tongue around one of his nipples. His muscles bunched under my touch and he shuddered. “I also know you can’t buy aerosol cans of whipped cream in Russia, and you didn’t bring it with you last night. How did you get it?”

He grinned and kicked off the pants from around his ankles. His undershorts followed. “I severely abused my authority, I’m afraid.”

Trepidation skittered through me, and my heart skipped a beat. “You’re not going to get in trouble, are you?”

“No, at least not before we use them.” He picked up the can, squirted me on the chest, then scooped me into his arms and licked the whipped cream off my breast. “This may get messy.”

My wiggling out of his arms smeared both of us with whipped cream. “You only get one taste until you tell me.”

He pulled me into his embrace. “The Air Force transported it in. Before I left, I flashed my credentials, gave them a story about an organ exchange as part of my top secret mission, and here it is. Just in time for the operation.” He let me go, grabbed up the can, and squirted me again, lower this time. “I know how much you like it.”

I stood there, dripping whipped cream onto the carpet, and gaped at him. “You did that for me? Are you sweet, or what?”

“Not as sweet as I’m going to be. Ready?”

Was I ever. Chocolate and whipped cream are my best colors.

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