Delilah Devlin, New Releases

Take a bite of First Knight

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On April 28th my next vampire book is out. And the next My Immortal Knight. But wait! What’s up with that cover? I mean he’s nice, better than nice, but aren’t all the MIKs contemporary? I hinted at a longer history in Silent Knight, so decided now was the time to introduce a prequel to the current series. Hope you enjoy the excerpt. If you’d like to sample a sexier excerpt, I’m posting one of those on my blog today too!

While hiding her true identity, Maddie must seduce the mysterious Lord Garon to cement their marriage contract to assure she won’t be returned into her lecherous stepfather’s care.

Fresh from Crusade in Palestine, Lord Garon has a secret he must hide, a hunger that must be fed, and a dark and uncertain future. Having shed himself of a fiancée he never met, he’s home to lick his wounds. The only thing he wants is a warm-blooded meal—but the new housekeeper is strangely insistent on giving him much more. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* 

Maddie shivered at the creaks and groans the portcullis made as it slowly rose. The rain-laden wind carried the noises and filled the silences in between with a howling that sounded like the hounds from hell had arrived at the castle gate. 

Shouts outside the curtain wall had alerted them only minutes before of Lord Garon d’Albermarle’s arrival. With only a bliaut over her sleeping shift, Maddie stood on the first step of the keep, holding a tray with a goblet of wine, ready to offer a proper greeting to her overlord. 

“Are you sure this is the way you wish to go about this, M-Maddie?” Egbert asked, fidgeting at her side. 

She swallowed against the sudden dryness in her mouth and nodded. 

“It be on your head then,” he said, his always-mournful tone as dire as one of Father Ansel’s Sunday sermons. She sent thanks above that the cranky priest was away or her deception wouldn’t last past the introductions. 

The clatter of dozens of hooves on the cobbled bridge beyond the gate filled the castle yard with thunder. From the encroaching darkness, the sounds were as ominous as the dark shapes looming on the gatehouse walls. The torches she’d ordered lit sputtered and flared, distorting and elongating shapes so the men riding through the entrance appeared as tall as giants. 

Already tired and on edge because she hadn’t slept since a messenger had arrived, warning the castle of his lordship’s arrival days before, Maddie’s fevered imagination painted them darker and larger still. 

“Be they devils?” Egbert asked, his narrow shoulders shaking. “No one travels on a night with nary a speck of light in the sky.” 

“Hush!” The storm whipping at her clothing and the fatigue from months of worry over this very moment combined to make her hands shake and blackened an already foul mood. 

The horsemen entered the bailey and a large figure separated from the contingent who approached the keep. As he drew closer, her fears weren’t eased one whit. The warrior sat atop a huge black destrier, forcing her to raise her gaze quite high to seek his face. 

He wore a helm that left only his square jaw exposed. The darkness cast by the metal nose guard concealed his eyes. Only his mouth gave a hint of his mood—a thin, straight line with the corners crimped downward. 

Under his stare, Maddie’s knees trembled but her tray never rattled. She squared her shoulders and shot a glance about her at the castle folk. “Stephen!” she called to the stable master. “See to their horses.” 

In moments, boys scrambled to accept reins, and the creak of leather and the clank of iron filled the air. 

The stable master himself approached the dark warhorse at the foot of the steps but the mounted warrior’s gaze never left Maddie. 

She licked dry lips with an even drier tongue. “Lord Garon?” she asked, although there could be no question who led this contingent. All gazes remained on his intimidating figure. “Please come inside, milord. Your people will see to the comfort of your men.” 

His mouth twisted. “And who will see to mine?” 

Maddie’s heart leapt to the back of her throat. “I will, milord.” 

A long pause indicated he looked her up and down. “And who might you be, madam?” he asked, his voice a deep, hollow rumble. 

Maddie remembered to curtsy and then straightened, girding herself to speak the lie aloud. “Your housekeeper. I take care of things now.” The latter, at least, was the truth. 

Lord Garon grunted. Without a glance at the stable master, he tossed down his reins and dismounted. 

When he turned toward her, Maggie’s breath caught. Lord, he’s a tall man. I thought it was just the horse.  

Maddie lifted the ornate chalice from the tray to deliver her much-rehearsed welcome. 

Instead, his lordship’s lips pressed into a tighter line and he brushed past her. 

She was left gasping on the bottom step. “What a rude ogre!” she exclaimed, annoyed he hadn’t fallen in line with the first step of her plan. 

“Watch your tongue, madam,” an accompanying knight said tersely as he followed the lord up the steps. “He has exceptional hearing.” 

“M-Maddie?” Egbert said, nodding toward the door. 

She shoved the tray at his belly and grasped her skirts high to rush up the steps. 

The plan had seemed so simple. All she needed was to get him alone and addle his sight with a little wine or ale so he’d not care she wasn’t the comeliest creature in the keep. Then she would seduce him. 

And the sooner, the better. The longer she took losing her virginity, the greater the risk he would discover her identity. The truth was, she would rather copulate with the devil himself than be returned home. 

However, this business of copulation, which had seemed a simple, messy, perhaps even enjoyable act, according to the cook, now promised to be a daunting trial. 

The lord of the keep turned out to be a giant and as dour as a priest at confession. The thought of being naked with him and accepting his manstaff into her body frankly petrified her. 

She rushed through the massive doors, hoping her preparations would meet with his approval. Nothing else could be allowed to mar her well-thought-out plan. 

His lordship stood in the center of the hall, hands on hips. Unlike his men, he wore no chain mail, only a leather hauberk to protect his body. He’d removed his headgear, revealing hair as black as midnight and a face as hard as carved granite. 

He was everything she’d remembered and more—more frightening, more imposing—and more beautiful because of the differences. Thanks be to God, he hadn’t recognized her. 

His gaze narrowed on the hall and she looked around to see what might have displeased him already. 

Around him servants scurried, delivering warm food to the men-at-arms as boys eagerly divested them of their armor. If she hadn’t been observing him so closely, she might not have detected the change in his posture. He scarce seemed to notice the din of activity. His mouth lost a little firmness, his hands unclenched on his hips and his chest rose and fell deeply. 

In that instant, Maddie lost a measure of her fear. Here was a man savoring his first night home after a long absence. He had a heart and cared for something at least. Perhaps he wouldn’t be a complete troll when making her his wife. 

romance, Shiloh Walker, writing

Booksignings Mishaps

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Cross-posted from my personal blog….

Booksigning mishaps.  They happen.

Once I signed the wrong name. Yep.

On rare ocassion, I’ve spelled the reader’s name wrong, which is why I try to have people spell their name out for me.

But at last year, I had the signing mishap to end ALL signing mishaps. This should win me a prize, I swear.

It was at the Lori Foster/Dianne Castell’s Reader & Writer Get Together-this is a lot of fun…if you’ve never been, it’s well worth it. There’s a lot of ‘free time’…just walking around, hanging out, talking. I was doing just that, walking around and a reader came up, asked if I’d sign CHAINS.

We were talking. This was the first mistake. (I shouldn’t CHAT while I’m actively SIGNING the book)

I’d probably had a glass of wine, or a rum and coke. This was the second mistake.

I was also supremely stressed, because I’d just gotten a phone call about my daredevil that damn near turned my hair gray…WHERE I STOOD…now this wasn’t my mistake-out of my control, but still.

So. My brain wasn’t entirely…focused.

Halfway through signing, I stopped.

I closed the book. Looked at the reader and said, “Um. I just signed your book badly.”

She just blinked and said… “What?”

I started apologizing, profusely. Very profusely. Then I told her what I’d written. She burst out laughing. It tickled her to death. I’m mortified. If I’d had the presence of mind, I would have gone and bought a copy myself, replaced it. But I didn’t have the presence of mind at the time. However, she’s just tickled pink.

Wanna know how I signed it?

Continue reading Booksignings Mishaps →

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Harlequin is Trying Something New

And I get to be one of the vanguard authors.  It’s pretty cool, really.  I get to wear a spacey looking suit and fly in hovercraft…oh, um…not really.  Sigh…  I just think being a vanguard should come with something Sci-Fi like, don’t you? 🙂

Okay, on with Harlequin’s new thing!  They are releasing two category books together in one volume.  Rather than being stacked in Harlequin’s special sections in bookstores, they’ll be sold along with all the other single titles.  They’ve been doing this in the UK for years (with a great deal of success, I might add), but it’s a brand-new  venture for Harlequin in North America.  The imprint is called Showcase and one of May’s launch books will include my The Sicilian’s Marriage Arrangement (winner of CataRomance’s Reviewers Choice Award) and Julia James’ The Greek’s Virgin Bride.

I love when publishers try something different – it’s good for readers and authors!

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The Sicilian’s Marriage Arrangement (by Lucy Monroe):  Hope Bishop is stunned when darkly sexy Sicilian tycoon Luciana di Valerio proposes marriage. Brought up by her wealthy but distant grandfather, she is used to fading into the background. But Luciano’s sensual lovemaking makes her feel vibrantly alive. Hope falls in love with her husband and is blissfully happy—until she discovers that Luciano married her to fulfill his own ruthless agenda…!

Read an Excerpt!

The Greek’s Virgin Bride (by Julia James):  As the illegitimate granddaughter of a famous Greek billionaire, Andrea Fraser was disowned at birth and grew up in poverty. Now, at the age of twenty-five, she is unexpectedly called to Greece, where shocking news awaits her-Andrea’s grandfather has found her a husband! She’s promised to tycoon Nikos Vassilis as part of a business deal. But Andrea has no intention of meekly accepting a marriage of convenience. Nikos may be the most sophisticated man she’s ever met, but she’ll be leaving him the first chance…

Watch for the book video and more information on the book in May! 🙂

Beth Williamson

Trying something different

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You know, I’ve been writing western historical romance for about 14 years. It’s my favorite genre (obviously) and the one I feel most comfortable in. You know, like one of those old cushiony chairs that fits your (my big) butt just right? That’s western historical romance for me. Many would argue that I likely lived a full life back then and had memories of that past life. That’d be really cool if it were true. 🙂

However, I do try different genres. I’ve delved into short contemporary erotic romance with M/F and F/F, as well as some scorchingly hot erotica with a splash of romance.

On July 6, I take that dabbling to a new level with the release of my first erotic romance single title, UNBRIDLED. When I was writing the proposal, I kept thinking, can I do this? A full 80K+ book? I knew I could do it with historical western, but erotic contemporary? I have to admit, I was nervous.

I’m pleased to say I wrote the book, delivered on time, and I’m really happy with the story. I connected with the heroine, Alex, and the hero, Connor, as I do with all my H/H. It’s a good story, if I do say so myself, and full of extremely hot sex with a lot of romance, and yes, there is a wonderful HEA.

The cover is absolutely kickin’ too.

I’m on pins and needles, y’all, until the release date, which seems to be looming so close! Three months to go! I’ll be doing contests and promos all over the place so stay tuned for that.

Here is the blurb and an excerpt for your reading pleasure…

Hell hath no fury like Alex Finley…

For as long as Alex could remember, life had taken everything from her. Her father had abandoned her and her dying mother, only to return upon her death to reclaim the family’s Wyoming ranch—with a new wife. Alex’s rage drove her away to Los Angeles to live with a man who could never satisfy her.

Only after ten years does she come home—and she hits the town with a vengeance, unleashing her pent-up lust on willing cowpoke Connor Matthews. But she’s in for several shocks. It turns out that the ranch is now a resort, that her late father split the estate between Alex and her young step-brother, and that Connor—the bucking bronco she wants in her bed—is running the place.

Now, Alex is torn between accepting a new family, and a lover who can give her everything she needs—or selling out to a smooth-talking neighbor and leaving the past behind her. But only when her life is on the line does she realize what she desires most of all…

Excerpt

Monday morning came and with it the sun, thank God. Connor balanced the muffin on top of the to-go cup and opened his office door. At first he could hardly believe what he was seeing; then he realized that Miss Alex Finley had set up her own workspace on his desk.

“What the hell are you doing?”

She glanced up from her laptop. “Working on the books. Just in case you forgot about giving me the job yesterday.”

He gritted his teeth at her sarcasm. “It may come as a surprise to you, but this is my office. I work here, not you.”

As he set the coffee and muffin down, she made a grab for it. Connor held firm to the cup, but she managed to snatch the muffin.

“Is this cinnamon chip? Oh, these were my favorites growing up. Bernice bakes the best muffins, doesn’t she?”

As he watched her take a big bite of his breakfast, Connor had to hang on tight to his temper with both hands. It was like trying to control a team of eight with dental floss, but he managed.

“I let you do the accounting work, but I never intended for you to do it here. There isn’t enough room.” He sat down and booted up his own laptop.

She shrugged. “There’s no other office free, so unless you want me working on the books in a public area where everyone can see exactly what I’m doing, then it’s going to be here.”

“What about your cabin?”

She picked up the next invoice and read it with her brow furrowed, concentrating on the trash collection fees. “The WiFi sucks that far away, so here I am. You’ll just have to deal with it.”

Connor gritted his teeth and counted to ten. The fact she was right rankled him more than the fact she stole his muffin. He should have made arrangements for her to have a private office, at least temporarily, until she decided Finley’s wasn’t the place for her.

“Couldn’t you have asked me?”

One slender brow rose. “Ask permission to work in this office? I am half owner in this ranch, am I not? I don’t think I need permission to contribute to the financial well-being of Finley’s.”

“I don’t like sharing my office.” Connor punched in his password with enough fervor to hurt his fingertips, which was saying a lot.

“I could tell.” She smiled sweetly. “Is there a way to order more muffins and coffee? I’m starving.”

Connor gestured to the door. “The mess hall is down on the south side of the ranch. You can’t miss it. It’s a big building with tables and chairs for people to eat.”

Alex surprised him by laughing. “You make it hard to be a bitch sometimes, Matthews.”

“Then don’t be one.”

“Ha, as if that’s going to happen.” She shook her head. “You’re not getting off that easy. You will just have to deal with me playing in your sandbox.” She popped a piece of muffin in her mouth.

“Then stop throwing sand in my face.”

Alex smiled at him and went back to the invoices. At least it appeared she really was working, and he didn’t know whether or not to be surprised. He tried to focus on the schedules but he kept glancing back at her while she worked.

She entered each invoice in the stack individually, then picked them up and reviewed them against what she entered. On the third pass, he had forgotten what he was doing and watched her reaction instead.

“What is it you’re doing?”

“I’m categorizing the expenses properly. You put all the barn supplies into one lump instead of separating them by type. They should be split out that way to better track what you’re spending.” She glanced over at him. “Did you know you’ve been paying about thirty percent more for feed than you did last year?”

He was startled by the figure. “What are you talking about? We haven’t changed feed supplier or type of feed. I find it hard to believe—”

“Whether or not you believe me is irrelevant. I went back over these invoices for the last year and discovered what was happening.” She gestured to the stack, which was when he realized they were all from Hanson’s, the feed supply house.

What threw him off was that some were on blue paper, others on pink, and the top few were white. He didn’t remember them changing the color of the invoice, but they obviously had. What else had he missed?

Connor realized she was waiting for him to ask the obvious question. “What was happening?”

Her face lit up as if she’d just discovered how to turn lead into gold. Alex obviously did enjoy accounting and all it entailed. “Hanson’s supplies more than feed to the ranch. They also sell us saddle soap, some other leather conditioners and applicators, some stall cleaner, hay bags and winter stuff like bucket deicers. Each kind of supply was on a different invoice until about six months ago.”

Despite his annoyance with Alex, he was interested in what she’d found. Hanson’s did supply various types of supplies to them. They were reliable and their feed was good quality.

“Since you are being a stubborn ass, I’ll tell you what I found. When they started billing everything together on the white invoices, someone got greedy and started charging more for the same amount of feed.” She looked at him triumphantly.

Connor was impressed but skeptical. “What if the price of feed went up?”

“I checked with other suppliers online. Hanson’s is by far the highest priced, well above what they should be charging. You’re getting taken by a clever billing person at this place. I’ll have a report ready in half an hour that details the discrepancies.” She smiled and he saw just how attractive Alex was. He knew she was pretty but obviously when she was passionate about something, even accounting, her appeal went through the roof.

As long as it didn’t go through his pants again. Jesus, this was the desk they’d had their afternoon quickie on. Now they were talking about feed invoices and pretending nothing happened.

“So, Sherlock, I suppose you want to confront them about this?”

“Hell yes! Let me get everything together and we can drive there and show them we know what they’re up to. We can show them not to mess with Finley’s.” She ate the last of the muffin; then before he could stop her, she took his coffee and helped herself.

Alex made a face and handed the cup back to him. “Ugh, sugar in your coffee? What kind of cowboy are you?”

“The kind who can’t jump in the car and shake some papers at our feed supplier.” He threw the cup in the trash, unwilling to put his mouth where hers had been. It had a sexual overtone to it and he needed to keep thinking with his big head.

“Why not? Don’t you do anything fun around here?” She sat back and stretched, pushing her breasts out like she was intentionally taunting him.

Perhaps she was and, damn it to hell, it was working. His dick stirred at the sight of her pillowy tits, at the nipples he could see just slightly hard beneath the T-shirt.

“See something you like, cowboy?” She’d caught him staring, of course.

Connor decided to play it cool, just as she’d been. “Yup, sure did. That’s a mighty fine rack you got there, Alex. You must be proud.”

Shock rippled across her face, but she tucked it safely away quickly. “Why, thank you, Connor. I am proud. My tits are my best feature, don’t you think?” She leaned over the desk, affording him a few of the cleavage peeping up through the V-neck of the shirt.

Shayla Black

DELICIOUS TEASE Contest

Authors Tracy Wolff and Shayla Black are putting on a new contest to celebrate our joint releases of DELICIOUS and TEASE ME. We’re already underway, but you can still participate between now and and April 7. We’ll have special blog posts and prizes every day. Our grand prize? An iPod Touch. How do you play? Simply comment on our blogs for 1 entry into each drawing. If you post our widget on your site, blog or any place readers can see AND comment on either blog with the location, we’ll enter you 5 times for the drawing. So post away! Fun prizes given away every day. Don’t miss out!

Delilah Devlin, New Releases

Want to be bad?

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I’m running a contest today. Be sure to post here, then post on my blog and you will have two entries!

On March 24th, I have a new release. Something I had a lot of fun writing. Something that has one of the funniest scenes I’ve written to date. I hope the teaser I share with you today will have you marking your calendar! Enjoy!

Expect magic when one determined woman dons a legendary pair of red stilettos and bares body and heart to get her man’s attention…

Jolene’s a big, beautiful woman with an even bigger heart. But she’s become her police officer boyfriend’s favorite doormat and that’s so not working for her. It’s time for a little conversation, time to tell Mr. Happy Pants to “pee or get off the pot”.

Gabriel has seen what his profession does to marriages. He’s not willing to risk that kind of heartbreak. Besides, he likes what he has with Jolene. The woman is sex personified. So when Jolie tells him she won’t see him anymore if he’s not willing to commit, he’s shocked and angry.

With a girlfriend’s encouragement and the added confidence a certain pair of red stilettos gives her, Jolene arranges a special show at a strip club to prove to Gabe once and for all that she’s more woman than any man can handle, and if he doesn’t want the job, then she’ll find another lover who does.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Jolie’s apartment door swung open and Gabe’s gaze slid down her body in a slow, hungry crawl. She wore a silky robe in a bronzy orange, which hugged her curves like his hands were itching to do. However, her hand was still on the knob, and she hadn’t backed up to let him in.

He leaned against the doorframe. “Am I too late?”

“Are you too late?” she said slowly.

Jolie’s tone was always like warm honey when she expected sex—soft and oozing down his spine—but right now, a sarcastic edge tightened her voice. And he didn’t like the militant gleam in her dark chocolate eyes. What had put her into a bad mood? Could she be mad at him? He hadn’t done anything out of the ordinary.

“If this is a bad time…”

Her soft jaw tightened, but she took a step back and waved him inside.

He breathed a sigh of relief and stepped across the threshold, his hands going to the buttons at the front of his dark uniform shirt as soon as the door closed behind him. A soft huff of breath halted him, and he looked up to find a scowl sinking a line between her dark brows. “What?”

She slowly shook her head. For a fleeting moment, her eyes filled but she blinked away the moisture. “Nothing.”

“I’m sorry. Should I step out the door and come back in? Something’s bothering you.”

Her eyes narrowed. “So you think you need to step outside while I get over it?”

“Yeah…”

Her scowl deepened.

“What?”

Her shoulders slumped and she shook her head. “Nothing. Nothing at all.” She turned on her heel and headed to the bedroom.

For the second time in five minutes, he sighed his relief. He’d thought, for just a moment there, that she would ask him to leave. That had never happened.

But then, she’d been acting a little funny lately. Quiet and brooding. With another woman he might have thought it was just her time of month, but Jolie wasn’t moody. One of the many things he appreciated about her.

As he followed her down the hallway while she flicked off lights heading to the bedroom, he mulled it over and thought he might have found the answer. She’d finally decided dating a cop was too harrowing.

After his partner had gotten shot last summer, she’d been a gem, bringing food to the hospital for the men who waited in the halls, calling the wives, babysitting their kids while they took turns waiting with Lexie, Tyler’s girl. Now that Tyler was back at work and everything had returned to normal, she’d had time to think about what happened. She couldn’t handle it.

Gabe tamped down the searing disappointment. He’d miss her. He’d always known this day would come. Deep inside, he’d held part of himself back from her because he knew better than anyone that living with a cop was hard. Too stressful for most marriages to survive.

His own mother had stuck it out, soldiering on as friends were lost along the way, until she’d crumpled on the porch when the chief of police and chaplain climbed the steps to deliver the terrible news. From that moment, she’d never pulled herself away from the dark place she’d entered.

Jolie was smart. She’d gotten a taste and decided to protect herself from a grim future.

Still, he was here. Maybe for the last time. He’d make it special, let her know he held no grudges. He’d tell her to move on and not feel guilty that she wasn’t strong enough for the life. He’d be gentle. And if his chest felt a little tight, well, he’d get over it. This was how it had to end.

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Author…Writer…

(Cross-posted from my personal blog)

What?

So over on twitter, they often have what they call #writechat.

Basically, it’s like a chat room.  They were talking about the difference between an author and writer.

One tweet, can’t remember the exact words, but it was that you’re an author once you’re published.  Before that, you’re a writer.

This is where opinion is going to come into play, and a lot of it will be personal preference, I think.

Now people can call me an author…and I don’t care.  I am, there’s no reason saying other wise.

But if somebody asks me what I do?  I’m a writer.

When I sit down to work, I’m writing a story. I’m not authoring.  “Authoring”, if you think about, seriously, doesn’t that sound kind of stodgy…pretentious?  Um…it certainly doesn’t sound like what I’m doing when I write, IMO.  I’m writing, and unless I’m banging a character’s head against a brick wall, I’m having fun.  I’m just writing…and I’m a writer.

Here’s the thing… for me, getting hung up on what label somebody applies to me, or any other group of writers, is a waste of time.  This is just my opinion, of course. Nobody has to agree.  But why worry on the label?  There are books to be written.  Published, unpublished, there are always books to be written.  Published, unpublished, you can always improve your craft.  Published, unpublished, you can always seek to improve.

The book matters more than the label… or at least, I think it should…

~*~

And in other news… I’ve got a book out… BROKEN

Broken 3.2010

Shattered


Quinn Rafferty is working as a bounty hunter and bail bondsman in St. Louis when a new neighbor catches his eye. He’s tempted by her beauty—but he knows from experience that anyone desperate enough to live in his building is damaged goods. Besides, he has his own soul to mend before he can worry about anyone else.

Desperate


Sara Davis is on the run, but not for the usual reasons a woman goes on the lam. She’s not an abused wife, and she’s not a criminal. But she does have a plan for her future. And as much as she finds herself attracted to her gruff, tough neighbor, she can’t risk telling him the secrets she’s hiding. There’s just too much at stake.

Driven to desire…


But Quinn must get closer to Sara when she turns out to be the target of his new missing persons case, and he discovers that there is something more complex and dangerous to her than he thought. Now, both Quinn and Sara will have to expose their true feelings—as well as their fragile hearts—if they hope their love will survive…

EXCERPT

He opened the door—

And stopped dead in his tracks as somebody all but fell into his arms. Somebody…a woman. And not Theresa.

He caught her just above her elbows, automatically steadying her.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice soft and low.

Then she lifted her face and Quinn found himself gazing into the biggest, brownest eyes he’d ever seen in his life. Feeling a little dazed, he studied her face while she stammered out another apology.

Quinn barely heard it.

He was too busy staring at her mouth. A very pretty mouth, a cupid’s bow mouth slicked with deep, vibrant red. Under his hands, he could feel silken smooth skin and unable to resist, he stroked a thumb along her inner arm.

Her skin was soft, soft and warm. He was also pretty sure she had the creamiest, most flawless skin imaginable. Her shoulder-length hair was a shade caught between blonde and brown, nondescript, but for some reason, he found himself thinking about tangling his fingers in that hair and holding her head still while he kissed that red-slicked mouth.

Well, hello…

read more…

Borders | BAMM | B & N | Book Depository | IndieBound | Amazon | Powell’s

Shiloh Walker

http://shilohwalker.com

Beth Williamson

A Hero Who’s Different

I have a new e-book release coming in May from Samhain, the fourth in my Devils on Horseback series. The name of the book, and the hero, is Lee and he’s a different kind of hero–he’s only got one arm.

When I originally wrote the first book in the series, Nate, I already had all five in my mind. Lee was the wildest of the five, always putting himself in harm’s way, reckless and full of piss and vinegar (so to speak). After he lost most of his left arm, that wildness became bitterness and inside his soul, the lights turned dark.

I have to admit, I struggled with Lee’s story, not only because I had to be aware he only had one arm but because he was a moving target as a hero. What I mean is, he didn’t know himself and so writing it became a journey of discovery for both of us.

The good news is the heroine, Genevieve, was so clear in my mind, she was perfect. Tough, outspoken, strong and stubborn–exactly what the crotchety Lee needed to haul his ass out of the hell he’d been living in.

I just got the cover, which I must say features a very nice looking blond hero. Regardless of what he’s missing, Lee becomes a whole man in the story and I hope y’all like it.

Lucy Monroe

Want to go to Africa?

Well, I would love to! After just setting a book in Zimbabwe (Close Quarters), my travel bug is on, but Africa is not in my near future, I’m sorry to say. However, we can all experience it through the eyes of an amazing photographer, Marti Corn, who has just left for her journey to Kenya.

She has volunteered to work with a local non-profit group offering micro-enterprises to women in both Kenya and the Middle East. Another female author is in the process of writing a book giving these women a voice, and Marti will be making environmental portraits for this project. She left on Friday for a two week journey through Kenya and invited me to follow her blog, In Search Of.

Check it out and experience her adventure with her!

And while you’re hopping around on the web, check my interview at Over the Edge Book Reviews. 🙂

And my new article in the Seattle Examiner, Writing Rocky Road in a Vanilla World.

Uncategorized

DELICIOUS is nearly here!

DELICIOUS
Berkley Heat
ISBN: 978-0425232422
Release Date: March 2
Buy: Amazon | Barnes & Noble

He can’t control his desire.

 Luc Traverson’s entire future is planned out—but there is one very sexy obstacle in his path: Alyssa Devereaux . She’s a former exotic dancer turned strip club owner and restaurateur. Recently, Alyssa and Luc shared one night of wild abandon that left Luc terrified by his loss of self-control—and Alyssa desperate for more.

 And that’s just the way she wants it.

 Fulfilling a promise, Luc is the guest chef for Alyssa’s restaurant debut. The sight of her makes Luc wild, so how can he survive a week without letting loose and ravaging her—especially when she’s begging for it? Luc’s desire for her explodes when he realizes he isn’t the only man desperate to have her. But one of the others is deadly. And that’s not the end of Alyssa’s secrets…which are as dark and mysterious and enticing as her fantasies.

Reviews:

“…another winner from Black. Spicy… Will thrill erotica and mystery fans alike.” Romantic Times

“With commanding and passionate love scenes, DELICIOUS is a book to be savored over and over. I consider it one of the best books I have ever read – it totally satisfied my romance loving heart.” ~ Romance Junkies

Recommended Read! “…a book you won’t forget anytime soon. Erotic, emotional…suspenseful. The combination of those, along with Ms. Black’s superb writing, makes Delicious a have-to-read and a keeper…” ~ Joyfully Reviewed

“…a real pager turner. A keeper you don’t want to miss!” ~ Love Romances and More

“Shayla Black delivers a steamy erotic romance of depth… The signature storytelling of Shayla Black is present and thriving in DELICIOUS; enriched with a surprising plot, charismatic and recognizable characters, emotional depth and searing eroticism. Who could want more in an erotic romance…” ~ Realms on Your Bookshelves

Excerpt:

Until Alyssa Devereaux, had he ever gotten stone hard just by looking at a woman from across a room? Luc didn’t like the answer.

He didn’t have to wonder what was under that little skirt; he knew. Sleek thighs surrounded by garters in some color designed to drive a man wild. A lacy thong that would reveal far more of her assets than it concealed. And under that . . . The feel and taste of her slick, swollen folds dive-bombed his memory and revved him up, as if he’d injected rocket fuel in his bloodstream.

And he had to work beside her for a week. Hell. How was he going to prevent a recurrence of the event he wanted to forget—yet couldn’t?

You’re a professional. Cook and keep your hands to yourself. Besides, it wasn’t as if he had nothing else to think about. Negotiations for his cable TV show were nearly at an end. He had a bit of editing to do on his latest cookbook. There wouldn’t be that much downtime this week, but what little there’d be, he would fill.

Clearly, Alyssa had a way to fill her time as well. The huge slab of man at her side whose cheek she’d kissed a moment ago wore a Sexy Sirens T-shirt stretched across his enormous chest. A bartender? A bouncer? Whoever he was, the guy slanted a possessive glance at Alyssa that Luc couldn’t miss, then glared at him.

Tamping down his irrational anger, Luc reminded himself that if Alyssa wanted to fuck her hired help, that was her business.

The violent urge to dismember her employee would pass.

Alyssa took a step toward Luc, then another.

“Mistress Alyssa,” a female called over the speakers in a saucy vamp voice. “Your turn!”

She stopped. Closed her eyes. Sighed. Bracing herself?

Then, as if the hesitation had never been, she flashed him a cool blue gaze, pointed at a chair in front of the stage, then turned away and strode backstage. Luc couldn’t help himself. He watched her walk away, the sway of those curvy hips a siren call. Damn.

If they had been alone, there was no way Luc could have prevented himself from touching her. Period.

Unless he wanted another brush with his uncontrollable wild side, he needed to forget his reckless promise to her and get out of this job. Now.

Reluctantly, Luc sauntered to the front of the stage and sat in the chair Alyssa had indicated. As soon as she finished whatever the hell she was doing and talked to him, he’d tell her all bets were off. Hell, he’d pay her for her inconvenience.

Because if he stayed, his dick would get him into trouble. He’d have her naked and be between her legs in two minutes. Or less. And that would be bad. He was looking for Mrs. Right, someone uncomplicated who wanted children as much as he did and would help him keep his beast at bay. Alyssa Devereaux, stripper divine, was definitely not that woman.

Suddenly, music pounded through the speakers, blaring with a naughty beat, a wicked slide of horn. Every note suggested sex—the hot, sweaty, no-boundaries variety.

The type he’d had with her and wanted again.

Pulling his loose shirt over his lap to cover his erection, Luc watched as Alyssa strutted onto the stage. She’d piled her straight platinum hair into some wild arrangement on top of her head and donned a sequined bolero jacket in red. He was dying to see what she wore underneath. The way she moved was an invitation . . . and a promise.

She planted her stiletto-clad feet in front of him with a decisive step, then swung her hips, making a sensual circle. She flattened her palm across the bare skin of her tanned abdomen—and began lowering it. She reached down . . . so damn slowly. Luc’s breath caught in his chest until, finally, she touched herself. Oh, hell.

Her fingers glided between her legs, and she tossed her head back as if she was in utter ecstasy.

Luc swallowed. And started to sweat.

With a jerk of her head, Alyssa snapped her gaze back to him, her eyes like focused blue lasers jolting him to his toes.

Damn it, his nine weeks of dating church secretaries, interior decorators, and elementary school teachers showed. Not one of them had incited an erection. During that time, he’d awakened in the middle of the night more than once, sweating, his dick in his hand and Alyssa’s name on his lips. Now, after less than five minutes in her presence, he felt ready to explode.

He had to think about the right F words—future and family. Unfortunately, with Alyssa near, the urge to fuck her again kept killing his good intentions.

In the next moment, she released the soft strands of her hair, which hugged her shoulders, clung to her breasts, flirted with her waist. Then she peeled off the little jacket and left it carelessly on the floor, exposing a tiny half top Luc could swear showed the shadows of her areolas. She stepped over the jacket and strutted toward the pole in the center of the stage. When she gripped it with both hands and undulated against it, pressing it to the juncture of her thighs, Luc damn near choked.

And still she continued to stare as if she danced just for him.

The music swelled, wailing with sensuality and suggestion. Alyssa upped her game, sticking a finger into the wet cavern of her mouth and sucking. More blood rushed to Luc’s cock at the memory of her mouth around him, her tongue slick across the head, inciting a sizzle that burned his whole body. Even months later, he could feel the lash of her tongue, the hot silk of her mouth. He shuddered.

With a kittenish smile, Alyssa popped her finger from her mouth and drew the damp fingertip down her cleavage. Then her palm took over, smoothing her right breast with an invitation to pure sin on her gorgeous face.

Dear God, no wonder she’d built herself a little empire here in Lafayette. The woman was a walking wet dream and did her job well. No red-blooded, heterosexual male could withstand such intense teasing and stay sane.

Out of the corner of his eye, Luc saw Alyssa’s employee, the one she’d touched earlier, sidle closer to the stage. With a quick turn of his head, Luc quickly saw that the mountain in the tight black T-shirt was tense, panting, and sporting a bulge that said he wanted to get busy.

Luc wished he could say that didn’t piss him off. But he’d be lying.

Then, as Luc’s stare returned to the stage, he damn near forgot his own name.

Alyssa turned her back on him and bent at the waist, staring at him over one mostly bare shoulder with a fuck-me look that stunned him. Luc gripped the arms of his chair, willing himself to stay in it, not charge up on the stage, lay her flat, and get inside her again this instant.

The spaghetti strap of her little top was falling down her arm. And that indecent skirt . . . With her bent over, the hint of the bare ass cheeks flashed from beneath the black silk. Her garters were a come-hither red. Her thong—he could see only a scrap of it—matched.

Soft fingers teased their way up her shin, her thigh, and disappeared under that little skirt. Her eyes half-closed, her sultry mouth parted on a silent moan of seeming self-pleasure. His entire body tensed.

He had to get the hell out of there.

Her hands swept up her undulating hips, gathering the skirt with them. She tugged at the little black garment, and it fluttered to the floor. The tanned halves of her backside, bisected by a bit of red lace, crashed fresh lust into his chest, making it damn hard to breathe.

Alyssa had a gorgeous ass. But he’d known that. Luc squeezed his eyes shut so the visual temptation of her bare flesh didn’t taunt him. Memories of tunneling into her ass pounded him instead. Her perfect willingness to take him any way he’d wanted. The tightness of her damp, musky body clasping him. The sweat dripping off of them as he’d thrust deep. Her moans.

Christ, the burning lust had to stop—at least long enough to tell her that he wouldn’t be staying.

Praying the torture would end soon, Luc opened his eyes. And sucked in a breath.

Alyssa flashed him a naughty smile of invitation as she ripped her small top right down the front to reveal a red demi bra that barely covered her nipples. Hard nipples. Pink, melt-in-his-mouth nipples he remembered all too well.

Luc squirmed in his chair—and nearly went off like a teenage boy. Beyond aroused, his cock was so sensitive, the feel of denim sliding against the head nearly had him coming.

He had to leave. Forget the polite conversation; he’d send her an e-mail with an explanation. Because if he stayed, he would shove his long-term goals aside and fuck her senseless.

As he stood, Luc mentally reviewed a list of chefs—female ones—he could pay to assist Alyssa this week. A short list, but a few durable names. He’d send idiotproof recipes . . .

The red bra dropped to the ground at Alyssa’s feet.

Her large breasts were as golden as the rest of her body and swayed gracefully with her every undulation, every step. Those nipples he remembered so damn well beckoned, Taste me.

Turn away! he demanded of himself.

His legs didn’t move.

Alyssa danced her way down the stairs, holding her breasts up in offering. She pranced past her aroused employee and shot the man a mirthful smile as she caressed the side of his face. Luc tensed when the beefy guy tried to snatch her up in his arms. But Alyssa was too fast and spun out of his grip, toward Luc.

The damp spot at the front of her thong kicked him in the gut. He clenched his fists as she danced closer, closer . . .

She dropped to her knees before him and looked up. Their gazes locked. She panted. Hard. Despite his jeans, her hot breaths caressed his cock. Release broiled in his balls, and he hadn’t touched her once.

There was no way he could stop himself from reaching out to tangle his fingers into her hair and bringing her mouth closer.

***

Only 6 days until release! To celebrate, I’ve been running the Delicious Tease contest on my blog. Daily book giveaways with a grandprize awarded in April of an iPod Touch. Swing by and play!