Tag Archives: Fiction

Author Spotlight on the Writing Duo of E.L. Blaisdell and Nica Curt

I’ve been fascinated about the process of collaborating with another author to produce a novel.  It’s hard enough to make sense out of what is in MY head much less if I had to do that in concert with another author. LOL.  Today my guests have managed to make collaboration work brilliantly. So I had to ask them a couple of pointed questions to figure out their secrets.

Welcome! E.L. Blaisdell and Nica Curt

Eden: What led each of you to choose to write a work in collaboration with another author?

Nica: There isn’t a nice way to word this, so I’ll just say it: I forced Eliza to do this.

EL: Blackmail is a great motivator.

Nica: But on a serious note, the idea of Drained and us writing together was always something we joked about––something we both said we’d do one day, but I don’t think we ever thought that it would actually happen. It was years ago when I approached Eliza with a screenplay I’d titled Drained. It was the same concept as our finished novel, but originally it was presented as scripts that I’d sent to a select few people. It was she who suggested that it be turned into a book.

EL: I never planned on writing a novel with someone else; writers and historians usually work alone. But when I read the pilot episode to Nica’s screenplay, I was really excited about the characters and the world and the rules she had created. She kept writing more episodes and I kept reading, and we decided that once I had a break in my own writing, we should collaborate and turn those scripts into a novel. Ironically, a lot of material from the original scripts ended up on the cutting-room floor, but the heart of the story remained the same.

Eden: What was the hardest thing about that process?

EL: For me, the hardest thing about collaborating is to be the co-captain of a ship. When I started working on Drained, I already had a number of novels under my belt. This meant I also had a pretty good idea of my writing process and how I work most efficiently and effectively. A lot of that goes out the window, however, when you’ve got another author (wo)manning the ship. It requires a lot of patience and a lot of compromise, neither of which I feel are my strengths.

Nica: The hardest part was keeping up with my co-captain. Unlike her, I’m not a writing machine nor am I an established author. Collaborating with someone who I consider a speedy pantser forced me to let go of plotting so that I could kick my writing into gear. Because of the partnership and my responsibility to do a fair share of the work, I had the goal of keeping up. Ultimately, the hardest thing about the process helped me grow as a writer.

 Eden: What was the process working together…kinda who did what and how did you decide on that?

Nica: First, we brainstormed until there was an outline of this story and the series in place. We also recognized each other’s strengths and weaknesses and used that to decide who would take care of what in the project.

EL: Nica’s strength is in world building and plotting, and my strength is churning out mountains of words. Apparently this is called a “pantser,” although I don’t know how I feel about that name.

Nica: I made sure we had important things like character development and plot twists, and Eliza made sure we wrote down words and strung sentences together to form paragraphs. Together, our different writing processes played the perfect complement.

Eden: What was the easiest part of doing a collaborative work?

EL: We have a very similar writing style and author voice, so making the novel read like one cohesive voice rather than two people trying to tell the same story was much easier than if we had vastly different styles.

Nica: Finding our process to write together. We wrote most of the book in real-time on Google Docs, which meant live corrections, comments, and suggestions. We created a color coding system that distinguished who wrote what and that allowed us to comment and provide feedback. This made it easy for the other person to understand what was going on in every scene, which was helpful when we couldn’t write at the same time.

Eden: What advice would you give to someone considering working with another author?

EL: Know that there’s going to be conflict in doing a collaboration. You’re not going to agree with each other one hundred percent of the time. But always remember that your friendship is infinitely more important than the end product.

Nica: Get to know your writing partner before you commit to anything. Learn their style, know their personality, and have a friendship. This might sound like dating advice, but you are going to be sharing the responsibilities of writing, marketing, and finances with this person.

 Eden: Anything you’d like to add?

EL: Even though collaborating has its challenges, I’ve discovered a real value to it. Every weekday morning, I hand my partner a travel mug of coffee and wave goodbye as she pulls down the driveway and heads off to her proper office in cubicle land with her proper co-workers. Then, I pour myself a cup of coffee and pad into my home office where my co-workers are a cat and a turtle.

Let’s be honest: writing can be lonely. The #amwriting hashtag on Twitter is just one example of authors’ attempts to create community and make human connections throughout the workday. It says you are not alone. When you have a collaborator—like I have with Nica—it provides you with a co-worker that you can bounce ideas off of, but probably more important to my sanity, you have a friend who shares the unique challenges and rewards that come from being a writer.

Nica: The writing process is isolating and we, as writers, do it to ourselves so we can focus. We each go through our own routines in hopes of getting our muse going so that we’re not staring at a blank page all day long. Usually, our daily routine involves a cup of tea or coffee, a quiet room, a laptop, and a playlist we’ve spent a couple hours too many being distracted on. Social human interactions come in the form of the occasional telemarketing call, emails, tweets, and comments.

Collaborating with someone who you trust and is a friend gives you an outlet to discuss ideas, and you know that the other person is as invested in the story as you. Your co-writer isn’t an unwilling party being forced to listen to your ramblings; no, they are there because they want to be.

Eden:  Ladies thank you for sharing with me today. I’m quite thrilled with your team work approach to writing. I wish you continued success!

Now join me for a sneak peek into….

Drained: The Lucid

Cover

blurb:

On the surface, Riley Carter had it all: amazing friends, a job she loved, a promising new girlfriend, and immortality. As an ambitious succubus working for Trusics, Inc., her life should have been simple. Nightly visits to the dream realm as the guest star in human fantasies afforded her the sexual energy required for survival. Provided she met her employer’s monthly quotas, she would continue to enjoy the extravagant spoils of eternal youth. Life was pleasure for pleasure—until it wasn’t.

 

Now in her seventh decade, Riley finds her life lacking, especially when she encounters a lucid dreamer. Armed with an analytic pragmatism as dangerous as any weapon, this new dreamer has Riley questioning the purpose of her existence.

 

Humor, romance, and intrigue meet in Drained, the search for the perfect life in an imperfect system.

 

Book excerpt:

 

Riley’s eyes narrowed as she observed the woman before her. She shook her head as if to ward off some of the more outlandish remarks she had for that question. Nothing had ever prepared her for the situation. A lucid dreamer with the ability to resist charm and cause physical harm was not a scenario most entertained.

 

She considered the question. “Well, I couldn’t visit you if you hadn’t given me permission.”

 

“I don’t recall ever agreeing to this,” Morgan countered.

 

Riley bit her tongue. She couldn’t tell her any more details without revealing the true nature of her job or Trusics. A million questions plagued her mind, but she settled on one. “How are you capable of asking these questions?” she inquired. “This is your dream, your fantasy. We’re supposed to be gettin’ it on, doin’ the deed … you’re supposed to be getting lucky.” Her words were almost rhetorical. “Something mindless, fun, and sex related.”

 

“Don’t your other victims talk?”

 

“Mostly groans, the names of deities, and many unintelligible words, but they don’t ask real questions.” Riley frowned as a particular word sunk in. “And they’re not victims.”

 

“With romantic charm like that,” Morgan shot back, “how could anyone resist?”

 

Riley fiddled with the watch clasped around her wrist. “I can’t believe I’m doing this, but give me a chance. I’m not that bad in bed. In fact, I’ve been told I’m rather good at it.”

 

Morgan rolled her eyes. “Everyone thinks they’re a good lover.”

 

The succubus hummed. “At least I can rule out a fantasy where you’d like for someone to beg to sleep with you.”

 

“I would have thought my greeting last time would have been enough to keep you away.” Morgan’s eyes narrowed. “Your kind never stops do they?”

 

Riley flashed a dimpled grin. “You mean the sexy, sensitive, playful, be-whatever-you-want-me-to-be kind?”

 

“Horndogs,” Morgan said under her breath. “All of you. Guys. Girls. All the same.”

 

“What do you mean ‘all of you?’”

 

“Don’t play dumb,” Morgan said, shaking her head. “I mean demons.”

 

“There you go again, casually throwing the word ‘demon’ around.” Riley blinked, offended and a bit dumbfounded. “That’s where you’re wrong.”

 

“So you’re not a demon trying to drain my sexual energy until I become a lifeless corpse?”

 

“Well …” Riley hesitated. “I am, but not the corpse part, and not the demon bit either. I’m a hundred percent human … ish.” As the words continued to escape her mouth, Riley inwardly cringed at how she must have sounded to the other woman. “It’s not like I have horns and a tail.”

 

“Well, invading people’s dreams and stealing their energy seems pretty demon-ish to me,” Morgan countered stubbornly.

 

“When you put it that way, it doesn’t sound great,” Riley admitted, her voice tapering.

 

Morgan spread her hands. “So put it in a good light then.”

 

“Um.” Riley’s brain spun and churned. “That’s not the point.”

 

“Right …”

 

“Jesus Christ.” Riley shook her head in frustration. “Who are you, and how do you know what I am?”

 

“I’m Morgan. But you probably already knew that about me, demon,” she drawled the last word on purpose.

 

“You know, Morgan,” Riley mimicked the same tone, “for someone who went to an Ivy League school, you could sure use some more research before you start spouting nonsense.”

 

Morgan pursed her lips. “Hey, insulting me won’t get you any closer to this,” she noted, gesturing to her body.

 

At the suggestion, Riley took in the slender curves of Morgan’s silhouette. She’d been unable to appreciate her figure the first time she’d visited her in the realm, getting physically beaten and all. Riley swallowed down a primal impulse. A lithe waist and subtle flare of hips hid beneath an oversized grey cardigan that nearly touched the tops of her thighs. In spite of Morgan’s attractive physique, the clothes were all wrong: grey cardigan, pale lilac camisole, and black yoga tights. Most of Riley’s clients dressed in high-end labels or nothing at all. In comparison, the woman seemed dressed for a day in with a book, not a passionate tryst with an ideal lover.

 

Morgan snapped her fingers, pulling Riley out of her admiring stare.

 

“This is the most twisted fantasy I’ve ever been in,” Riley muttered to herself.

 

“You’re hardly my fantasy.”

 

Riley lifted a perfectly manicured eyebrow. “Oh really? How do you want me then?”

Her clothing morphed before the other woman’s eyes. Instead of her sheer babydoll, she now wore a short pleated skirt, white knee-high socks, and a tight blouse tied just beneath her pert breasts. “Maybe you’d prefer me sweet, innocent, and a little naïve? Perhaps I’m a student in need of help on an assignment.”

 

Riley took a cautionary step closer to her mark as her clothing shifted again. She knew she was wasting her energy, but the frustration had begun to cloud her mind. The more control a succubus had over a dream, the more energy it depleted. For more energy efficient sessions, a mark’s imagination had to do all the work. But without a little give, there wasn’t a take. And that take was more than worth the trouble if the experience exceeded expectations. Morgan had Riley’s interest, and it would be a lie to say that the challenge didn’t turn her on. Her schoolgirl outfit melted away and re-formed as a skintight, crimson, leather body suit. Loosened hair turned ten shades lighter as it pulled back into a high ponytail. A harsh zipper split the tight material between her breasts, revealing a startling amount of cleavage. The pants tapered down her long legs, and she stood confidently on four-inch black platforms.

 

“Or maybe you need me to whip some sense into you,” Riley purred. Her eyes narrowed, and she tapped a thin riding crop against the palm of her hand. “Maybe you’ve been pining for someone to tell you what to do. I think you need a break from always being in charge, always being the head of everything you do. Must be tiring.”

 

“Still not your type?” The red leather outfit shifted and fell away to reveal a black string bikini whose material barely contained her firm flesh. She wore leather straps around her ankles. Her taut hair fell out of its ponytail and blonde roots sprouted from her scalp until her entire thick mane was platinum in color. “Maybe all this hesitation is an act,” Riley continued as the distance between them closed. She shook her wrists and the metal bondage rings jangled. A small, black collar materialized around her neck, dangling from a shiny d-ring was the leash. “Maybe you’re always the take-charge type and you’d rather I not call the shots.” She batted her thick lashes. Her demeanor didn’t miss a beat; she could change her tempo as fast as the outfits.

 

Morgan looked visibly flustered. Riley wondered if she had unknowingly tapped into a secret fantasy, but assumed that woman’s academic, left-sided brain was working overtime from watching her transformations.

 

“How did you do that?” Morgan’s fingers grazed over the material of the leash. “It—it feels so real. I can practically smell the leather,” she thought out loud.

 

“It feels real, because it is real,” Riley replied. She watched Morgan’s hesitant touch, a mixture of fear and curiosity, continue down the lead.

 

“Can you change into another person?” Morgan asked. “Or can you just change your clothing and hair color?”

 

“Don’t you know?” Riley said smugly. She could only hope that her poker face would hold. But under the wandering eyes and examining touches, she felt insecure. She was a specimen under a microscope. “You seem to be the expert on what I am.”

 

Behind them on the stovetop, the teapot shrieked to life. Morgan blinked and shook her head. She turned her back on Riley and pulled the kettle from the gas burner. The shrill cry faded as the silver kettle cooled.

 

Morgan pulled a ceramic jar from a ceiling cabinet. “Would you like some tea?” she offered.

 

Riley stood stunned for a moment, and her outfit defaulted to her original babydoll. It wasn’t that she’d never been offered food or drink on an assignment before—although generally she was licking said food and drink off of someone’s body. She was stunned by the young woman’s ability to turn and control the situation. One minute she was hitting Riley with a baseball bat, the next she was offering the succubus hospitality.

 

“Not that I’m complaining about the offer, but you’re puzzling,” Riley voiced her thoughts. “I mean, you were holding batting practice with my head minutes ago.”

 

Morgan poured hot water into two cups, each with their own tea bag floating to the top. “I guess I don’t care for baseball all that much,” she said with a slight shrug. “Anyway, I didn’t think you’d complain over my lack of aggression.” She brought the two steaming cups over to a small kitchen table that sat three as it was situated against a wall. “We can go back to that if you’d like. I’m accommodating.”

 

“No thanks.” Riley lifted a hand.

 

Morgan smirked at the simple gesture. “People can have a change of heart.”

 

“Not that quickly they don’t,” Riley pointed out. “You could be schizophrenic.”

 

“For a seductress, you’re doing a bang-up job,” Morgan retorted, sitting down in one chair. “Between the insults and tea, I don’t know how we’ll have time to have sex.”

 

About the Authors

 

E.L. Blaisdell and Nica Curt met in 2009 through a fanfiction archive that has since become defunct, yet their friendship endured. Although they’ve collaborated before, Drained: The Lucid is their first original novel together. Follow them on Twitter (@ElizaLentzski and @NicaCurt) for updates and exclusive previews of future original releases.

 

Web: http://www.indulgentpen.com

 

E-newsletter: http://eepurl.com/3xNTP

 

Purchase the book on Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Drained-Lucid-E-L-Blaisdell-ebook/dp/B00NG8YLNA/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1411046421&sr=8-1&keywords=Drained+blaisdell

 

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Author Spotlight – Megg Jensen

Hunted_Revised2_CVR_MEDI met Megg Jensen through a Facebook connection. I begged her to be my guest. I wanted all her secrets of success. LOL.  Like Dorothy in the Wizzard of Oz, I think she gave me the answer I always knew. I am posting this today in celebration of Opening day of #Dragoncon14!  Shhh I think I heard that C.L. Wilson is going to be a guest there on the writers tract!!!

 Megg tells us: “In the summer of 2012, I sat at a dealership, signing documentation to purchase a new car for my husband – one I was able to purchase in full with money I’d earned from self-publishing. The form asked for occupation and I was proud to write “Author.”

 The salesman saw that and gasped. He looked me over, then asked if I was Suzanne Collins. My rather snarky reply was, “If I was Suzanne Collins, I’d be at BMW, not Hyundai.”

 We both had a good laugh over it, but the moment wasn’t lost on me. Not only was I contributing to the household, but I was buying a freaking brand new car with cash I made from turning my imagination into words. How crazy is that?

 I went from that high to a drop in sales in the fall of 2012, only a few short months later. I can attribute the dip to many things – the end of a series, a change in genre, medical and household emergencies – but my income didn’t recover from the drop.

 I find myself in 2014, not despairing, but working my butt off to get back to the top. That’s the one of the best parts of self-publishing.

 If I had a drop in sales like that with a traditional publisher, it’s pretty likely they wouldn’t send another contract my way. I’d have to fight for anyone to notice me. Not in self-publishing. I can take my career into my own hands.

 2014 has been a year of learning and rebuilding. I don’t expect to make as much money this year as I did in 2012, nor is that my aim. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, success rarely comes from luck. Hard work is the basis and this year I’m rebuilding that base.

 I’m writing books faster by managing my time more efficiently. I’m consolidating my editing process by booking pros. I’m hiring out work that distracts me from my main job of putting words to paper.

 Most importantly – I’m learning. The business has changed drastically since I began self-publishing in 2011. Back then, success was easy. Now there are thousands of books going live on Amazon every day. Visibility is the number one priority, whether it’s through ads, blog tours, or word of mouth. The smart indie will do her research before publishing another book.

Writing is art, but publishing is business. Success doesn’t come just to those who write well – it is earned through hard work and perseverance. I plan to be on top again, even though it may not happen until 2015 or 2016. When it happens, people will ask, “How did you rocket to the top so quickly?” I’ll just nod because I know that all overnight success requires a lot of hard work.

Hunted_Revised2_CVR_MED

 —

 Bio: Megg Jensen is a bestselling author of high fantasy.

No stranger to top ten lists on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and the iBookstore, Megg’s novels (Anathema, Oubliette, Severed, Sleepers, Afterlife, The Sundering) have garnered millions of downloads, attracting thousands of fans all over the world. In April of 2014, her compilation ebook, The Song of Eloh Saga, hit #42 overall on Amazon and #9 on Barnes & Noble.

Growing up on the amazing fantasy and scifi of the 1980s, Megg’s influences include Madeline L’Engle, Robert Jordan, and Terry Goodkind. She lives in Chicago with her husband, kids, and two miniature schnauzers.

 

http://www.meggjensen.com

http://www.facebook.com/authormeggjensen

Instagram – @meggjensenpix

Twitter – @meggjensen

Write On The Edge

AA012103I was a guest on the “Write On The Edge” radio show sponsored by the Writers On Line Network. It was loads of fun. Since it was at 11pm eastern time we got to enjoy the late night fun. How many shots did I have to drink for saying secret words? I’m not sure. I certainly needed a sip to cool down after discussing fantasy menage’s from the Walking Dead T.V. show on AMC. LOL

http://www.blogtalkradio.com/writersonlinenetwork/2014/02/28/writer-on-the-edge

Vicktor Alexander and Elsa Pendragon were awesome hosts.  They tried to ply me with laughter and alcohol to gain all my secrets. They pried most of them out, from my fan girl crust to biggest guilty secret.

Here is one they missed.

If you were a paranormal creature what would you be (wolf shifter, lion, elf, fairy, etc.)

OpieColors

Some days I’m a dragon. Other days I’m a Phoenix. I’ve been one of the fae folk and a wolf shifter. Ohh once I was an exquisite Snow Leopard.

That’s the benefit of writing fiction. I can be what ever I want to be! LOL

fantasy-girl19

Dragon’s Unbound Promo

Dragon’s Unbound is an erotic M/M paranormal romance featuring dragon shape shifters. Rhys and Haydn made their first appearance toward then end of Dar’kind Promises a erotic F/F paranormal romance. Pieces of their story came together before I wrote Dar’kind Promises. I felt the need to go back and tell their story. So I took the pieces I had and went to work with a few more ‘what ifs’ to get the answers I needed to bring their story out. There are places to laugh, perhaps a tear or two and hopefully in the end the reminder that unconditional love exists and their is healing if you let go and work for it.

Today I share their cover and an excerpt.  Enjoy

DragonsUnbound_Cover (1) (135x200)

 

Dragon’s Unbound

written by Eden Glenn

Cover Carl Franklin

Publisher Rebel Ink Press

http://www.rebelinkpress.com

Find it at Amazon hot link HERE  $2.99

Chapter One

 

Haydn concentrated on the steps to make the poultice for the healer. Prepare the white bread by tearing it into small pieces then warm the milk to douse the chunks and create a pasty mixture to treat the wounded dragon. At least he could do this job for the healer.

Isobeau rescued Haydn from hell and he would do anything she asked of him, even if it was only tearing countless loaves of bread into little pieces. His dragon symbiont had not emerged at puberty like his peers. Deemed a recessive, he was cast off and given to the Telihedran as a pleasure slave. Their draconic natures were ruthless. They’d used Haydn without compassion yet he survived the horror.

Helping others consumed his weeks with her. First, the rescue of the Dar’kind Fairy Maura and her tracker mate, Zelia, and now a very large indigo dragon shifter fighting for life in the ballroom of the old Victorian home. The healer helped all beings, not turning anyone away. For that alone she gained his loyalty without reservation. A loyalty events forced him to contemplate transferring to the new Dragon Guardian.

The Healer sent him on this task probably knowing he would be more comfortable in the confines of the kitchen. He hadn’t had the time to tell her what had happened. All the activity of the others preparing for the healing took up her time. That and the secret he hid gave him the sharp edge of panic, making it hard to breath. He kept the kitchen lights dim and focused on his chore, searching for calm balance.

He wiped his forehead with the back of his arm. He wasn’t sure what had turned his thoughts to remembering the past. The secrets he tried so hard to bury were surfacing, threatening to wreck everything. Isobeau kept his experiences before coming to the watchers in confidence. Perhaps the memories surfaced because the events of the afternoon left him with yet another secret to guard. He pulled his sleeve back down to hide the mark over his wrist.

Cathwren, the Guardian, was a human and not even reared among dragon kind. He found it hard to believe the small woman with the flaming hair stood as Dragon Guardian for this generation of their entire race. Her heritage would make her open-minded. Maybe there was a chance for others like himself. The fulfillment of prophecy transpired right before his very eyes.

Recently, his sexual desire had awakened. Now lust coursed through him leaving him achy and heavy, demanding relief. The few times he’d pleasured himself only made his need more poignant. He longed for a committed relationship, someone to be his, to love and take care of, a safe harbor. His longing had no outlet. Well, not one he would allow. Rhys deserved so much more than Haydn could offer. His interest in the man was yet another secret to hide.

The kitchen door burst open. Haydn jumped, instinctively grasping a knife for defense. Rhys stood in the doorway. The very man his wayward thoughts always drifted toward with imagined possibility of meaningful intimacy with crouched in the doorway, his hands spread in a calming gesture.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” There’s no danger. I pushed too hard.” He turned to examine the door. “I keep meaning to plane this where the wood swells and catches.”

Often Rhys didn’t know his own strength. He was the one Watcher who didn’t give Haydn pity, only calm compassion, acceptance, and friendship. Haydn allowed the man’s projected psy energy to wash through him, restoring his calm. He put the knife down and crossed the room, moving carefully. “The healer needs this glop quickly. It’s time.”

“I have the bread cut and the milk is almost hot enough.”

Rhys moved in so close the sandalwood scent of the soap he used flooded Haydn’s senses. The man’s hair glinted black in the low light of the evening kitchen. Haydn could see the soft wisps at the V-neck of Rhys button-down shirt. Did the hair trail down the Watcher’s chest in a light dusting or did it cover him like a furry pelt? Haydn shivered. Great Goddess, help me control my thoughts.

“That’s not necessary.” Rhys lips formed one of his infrequent smiles. A smile transformed his guarded features into the handsome masculine Adonis.

“What?” Haydn struggled to think, what wasn’t necessary. He had the bread. The milk was almost ready.

“The Goddess needn’t control your thoughts, you have that power. You’re free to think and do what pleases you now. You’re welcome to wonder what my chest looks like. I’m not offended.”

Haydn’s body trembled as conflicting emotions assailed him. How could this man perceive his thoughts so easily? It was a talent usually reserved for mated couples. The feelers of inviting warmth from Rhys tickled at his awareness.

The man’s eyes were concerned. “I won’t force you. I just wanted you to know I’m here. I could be that someone for you.”

Fighting to shield his thoughts, Haydn hurried to the stove to get the warm milk, visions of their bodies entwined together making love to each other, beautiful and sharing, until they were both spent and exhausted, clouding his mind. Ugly, painful thoughts from his past intruded. He was worthless and shamed. Dear Goddess, no. He fought to breathe and push the thoughts back behind the doors of his mind. This was dangerous. Rhys could perceive his thoughts so easily.

“No. I… No.” He rejected Rhys’ offer and grabbed the pan, bringing it to pour over the bread. With all the traps in his psyche, he couldn’t bring himself to engage in meaningless, gratification-based relationships and quick, casual, nameless, sex.

Their race had never established sexual boundaries. They accepted physical desires as any other need; to eat, to scratch an itch. Sexual acts between either gender were widely practiced and weren’t limited to the constraints of human morals. However, permanent, same gender parings were unacceptable and considered an abomination.

What would it be like to have sex with tenderness? Hadyn didn’t want anonymous sex. He wanted a partner to build a healthy life with. He wanted someone who would accept him in spite of the damage to his soul. How could he say I don’t need someone, I need you? Yet, he’d just turned down the only man who didn’t treat him like a leper.

Out of the corner of his vision, he saw Rhys smile.

Rhys reached for the bowl of bread at the same time Haydn poured the hot milk over the bread cubes. Scalded milk sloshed across Rhys’ hand, searing the skin to an immediate parboiled red.

“Crap! I’m sorry.” Haydn pulled the man toward the sink where he turned on the water, dropping the empty pan with a clatter in the bottom of the stainless steel basin.

Haydn shoved Rhys’ hand under the cold water to ease the burn. The musky, sharp scent of Rhys’ male essence blanketed Haydn. In his urgency to get Rhys’ arm to the cold water, Haydn pulled the man around him. Haydn froze. It was all too intimate. Too close. Aw hell, it was also too comfortable. Rhys clasped the edge of the sink with his free hand, bracketing Haydn in his embrace.

“You’re not trapped. This is where you want to be.” Rhys’ voice caressed Haydn like a lovers touch, deep and soothing.

Lady of light, yes, the man was right. He wanted the closeness with Rhys more than he’d ever wanted anything in his life. He wanted to feel Rhys’ hard body wrapped around him. The need to have Rhys’ cock fill him became unbearable. Haydn wanted that and so much more, he couldn’t find words to describe it. The evidence of Rhys’ own need pressed against Haydn’s hip, thick and erect.

Rhys leaned his head down and whispered seductively in Haydn’s ear. “That’s yours when you’re ready to come for me.”

Haydn shivered at the double meaning. Rhy’s hot breath caressed his neck as the man paused to inhale, deeply drawing in Haydn’s scent.

“And what I have for you… I promise it won’t be quick. It won’t be casual. And it won’t be nameless.”

 

Halloween Blog Hop Continues

Drea had a great idea for a Halloween Blog Hop Visit her Events page for a list of the authors involved. Many of them have contests.

There are 110 authors participating. I am giving away an E-ARC of “Once Upon A Twisted Tale” Anthology by Rebel Ink Press which contains my story “The Galloping Ghoul of Hockomock Swamp”

Make a Comment and be sure to leave me your email so I can get in touch with you. The winner will be chosen after the 31st.

With Halloween coming I wanted to post about horror movies or something trendy. But seriously, I can’t watch horror movies. They scare the bejeasus out of me.

I still have nightmares about the Exorcist which I saw in theaters. R.M. Kinore had me watch Night of the Living Dead the other day and I really got freaked out. I HATED the ending. Without spoiling it for you if you haven’t seen it. Okay it was a like 1968 black and white movie. However, it DID NOT have a happy ending

Last night we watched Paranormal Activities. That creaped me out big time. I don’t think I slept all night long.

So what is your favorite scary movie?

Or what costume do you love to dress as for Halloween?

Paw Prints – Rebel Relay

The newest fun project from Rebel Ink Press. A bunch of the Rebel Gang of signed authors have jumped on board to be part of the Rebel Relay. The way it works is we ALL work together on a story line in tag team relay style. The story goes around twice with each author adding 500 words to the existing manuscript. Our magical editor will have final editorial bippity, boppity, boo and “Paw Prints” will be released. You can expect it to be fantastic. Rebel Ink has a line up of amazing talent.

Burb:
“What happens when twenty five writers get together with a story idea geared toward helping better one small corner of the world? Meet Kylie Wright and Buster and find out this December in Paw Prints, a brand new story created by Rebel Writers for a Cause with all proceeds going to the National Humane Society.”

I have always loved animals. My undergraduate degree is actually in Equestrian Education with a full second major in Psychology. Tell me about one animal that you will never forget.

Mine is our family dog Sunny. She was loaned to us. (Cause you don’t give away someone you love.) by a family we knew with the stipulation that if our situation ever changed, we would give her back. Sunny was a yellow lab. She knew how to do amazing things. You name any dog trick and she could probably do it. Cheese on nose, yep. Fetch…why heck she could play baseball in the outfield. She was an animal our whole family and the family who gave her to us, loved every moment of her life.

She went on TV with me to teach children Dog Safety. She went with me to schools to teach programs on a variety of subjects. One even on nutrition and why it is important to eat right. She earned her canine good citizen standing. She could do obedience, agility, showmanship in the world of dog showing.

I saw her a little sore, off stride one day…I thought well, she’s 12 years old. She’d played hard all her life. Maybe she has a touch of arthritis. Then, I saw her shoulder swollen. I took her to the vet and received the news. She had a large tumor inside her shoulder joint. My children were out of town. They came home to spend Sunny’s last couple of days loving her and then we ended her suffering. We buried her out at the farm. She made our lives better and I will always miss her. She goes on record as the most wonderful dog I’ve ever known.

Tell me your favorite pet story.