29 May 2011

Six Sentence Sunday

Continuing on in the text message saga:

“When she gets sober.”

“You know that’s not happening anytime soon.”

He reached for me as I shoved out of the covers and stood. “I know that, Dalton, but she’s my twin.” I padded out of the bedroom, pulling the door closed behind me.

Once safely in the kitchen, I opened the message: 'If this isn’t Emily, then who is it?'

25 May 2011

Titan's Jewel, Part Twelve (5/25/11)

Hi, folks! It's Wednesday again, which means I'm flashing.

With fiction, that is. Here's another installment for Titan's Jewel, and you'll be happy to see where they end up this week, I think. Here we go!


Brett laid in his bunk, staring at the bottom of Shiloh’s bed. He knew she wasn’t sleeping, but couldn’t bring himself to say anything. When they’d been lifted from the tunnels, she refused to tell Tom what happened. Instead, they told him the cavern was nothing more than a bunker.

Shiloh retreated to the tiny RV bathroom when Tom had gone to bed and Brett could do nothing but listen to her soul wrenching sobs as the full impact of what had happened finally hit her. She’d emerged, eyes red and swollen, and climbed straight into her bed.

And that’s where he found himself, listening to her discontented sighs and wondering if he’d completely screwed everything up by moving too fast. All he wanted was to feel her kiss, a soft touch. Maybe go on an actual date one day. Looks like you might never be sitting on a blanket at the beach with her, he thought, frowning.

Suddenly, Shiloh’s head popped over the edge of the bunk. “Hey,” she whispered.

“Hi,” Brett replied. “You okay?”

“Can’t sleep. Insomnia’s coming back. What are you doing up?”

He smiled. “Listening to you toss and turn.” Propping on an elbow, he cocked his head. “You’re an insomniac?”

Shiloh disappeared before her feet swung over and she jumped down easily. She slid onto his bed, tucking her legs underneath her and picking at the loose strings on his wool blanket. “When I was eight, my mom got cancer and she was in a lot of pain most nights. Dad couldn’t handle it, so I’d stay up with her, singing lullabies or knitting.” She offered a feeble smile. “That’s when the sleepless nights started.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Brett said softly, recognizing raw pain in her voice with the memory. “My parents left when I was five,” he offered. “Tom raised me.”

“I had no idea.”

“Yeah, well.” He shrugged. “You tired yet? Did I bore you enough?”

“Hardly,” she snorted. “I’ll leave you alone so you can get some sleep.”

Brett grabbed her hand as she stood. “I’m not tired,” he lied. “Want to play some poker?”

Smiling, Shiloh nodded. “We gambling?”

“With what?” Please say clothes, he thought fleetingly.

“There’s a bucket of goldfish crackers in the cabinet.”

Five minutes later, Brett was sitting at the small booth constituting a dining room table and watching the demure Shiloh handle the cards with more skill than a veteran Vegas dealer. Suddenly, he was glad she hadn’t said clothes.

“All right,” she said. “Seven card draw, no wilds. Max bet of ten goldfish. Good?”

Nodding with raised eyebrows, he watched as she dealt the cards with a rapid hand. “So when did you run an underground gambling ring?”

“When the feds banned it.” She giggled when his jaw dropped. “What? You think the construction guys sit around and take something like that with a thumb up their ass? I organized and dealt.”

HOT. Brett felt the blood rushing to his fingertips as the lovely Shiloh transformed into more of a vixen right in front of him. “Did you kick their asses?”

“Now, if I told you that, it might scare you off.”

Four hands in, Brett couldn’t decide if he was the unluckiest S.O.B. to walk the face of the earth or if Shiloh had the luck of the gods on her side. Either way, she won his last four goldfish with a sly smile.

“Well, looks like that’s a wrap,” she said.

“Wait a minute.” He pondered what he was about to say as she looked at him, waiting. “One more hand. If I win, I get that kiss I was robbed of earlier.” His stomach tightened with nerves as her eyes narrowed on him.

“And if I win?”

“Ladies choice.” Shrugging, he leaned back, knowing her eyes would travel across his bare torso.

“I’ll call a rain check when I win and think about it. Let’s go.”

Brett studied his cards when she dealt, suppressing a smile. Four red hearts greeted him, conveniently lined in descending order from the King to the ten. All he had to do was trade in two. If he got a nine of hearts, the game was in the bag and the kiss was his.


He slid two cards across the table and waited patiently while she studied her hand. Shiloh took three carefully selected cards and slapped them on the table, eyeing him down. “Just two?” she asked incredulously.

“Just two.”

With raised eyebrows, she dealt them and got her own. “Dealer calls.”

Excitement coursed through him as Brett laid down his first good hand of the night. “Royal straight,” he said softly.

A slow grin spread across Shiloh’s face as she tossed her meager three of a kind down. “Congratulations,” she said. “You win.”

He could have done a happy dance, but he leaned back with a smug smile instead. “I won’t be calling a rain check.”

Shiloh nodded, licking her lips, and leaned forward. “Well, come on then, mister smooth.”

Her heart raced just below her skin. Brett could feel the frantic beats when his hand cupped her face. He leaned across the small table, and after a moment’s hesitation, he lowered his head until their lips met.

God, she tastes good. That was the only thought running through his head as she sighed against him. He deepened the kiss, running a hand into her hair.

Brett pulled back slightly. “Can’t believe I waited so long to do that.”

Shiloh bit her lip. “Better make up for lost time, then.”

23 May 2011

Please Say Hello to Lila Munro!

Hi, guys! Please help me welcome Lila Munro! She's here today talking about the life of a RHINO. No, it's not the animal. Read on to find out more.

Thanks for dropping by, Lila!

On Being a Rhino

Before I get down to the business of explaining what being a Rhino means, I’d like to thank Lindsay for the opportunity to be here today talking to her readers. I’m sure there are some old hands in the crowd as well as some newbies. It’s to both that I speak today as I’ve figured out that no matter how long you’ve been at this business it can still be hard and you can get your feelings hurt and your feathers ruffled, oh a few dozen times a week. At least. You have to have a tough skin to get by and not give in to the urge to quit. Thus my chosen subject today—being a Rhino.

I’m sure Lindsay will understand what I’m about to reveal right away as she’s an Army wife and I’m a Marine wife, thus this makes us sisters in spirit and strife. We’ve assumed the mantle of one of the hardest jobs on the planet and to exacerbate that we also chose one of the most demanding careers to go along with it. Writing. I hear tell that Lindsay has been a wife for nine years now I believe, please correct me if I’m wrong Lindsay. I’ve been doing this for nearly fifteen now and my husband has been in for twenty three years. When I first met my husband, he was actually out of his fleet element and was at a training command at Ft. Leonard Wood where I was born and raised. Yes, a marine on a soldiers turf. But you’d be surprised for all the competition of who’s the best, there is just as much camaraderie, love and support. After sweetie asked for my hand in marriage and announced to his training command that this would be occurring, one of his supervisors approached me. He was an Army Staff Sergeant and ready to retire. He “knew stuff.”

Rog taught me a few things about being a wife that even a wife couldn’t teach me. He taught me to always support my husband even if I disagreed with the mission, only shed one tear at a memorial service and reserve the rest for later, and he taught me to be a Rhino. He said I had to learn to be one and grow a thick skin to be able to live this life. He was right. And I’ve discovered that my Rhino training has come in handy with this writing career as well, although there are times my thick skin feels very thin and I have those days I want stop writing altogether. That’s when I pull out the Rhino rules. So, what is this Rhino stuff all about? Let me share.

The Rhino Creed—

I am a rhinoceros. I have a “damn the torpedoes” spirit. I am full of rhino energy and I can’t wait to get up in the morning to start a challenge.

1. Anything in life worth having is worth working for.

2. Sell yourself on yourself: be happy and smile.

3. Plan your attack and attack you plan.

4. Get physical exercise and get in shape.

5. Take care of yourself and eat good rhino food.

6. Get mental exercise: read good books. Garbage in=garbage out.

7. Discipline yourself: use your time wisely. DO IT NOW!!

8. Never lose your sense of humor: choose to be happy.

9. It’s all in your mind: positive mental attitude.

10. Plans change: prepare for Rhino problems: failure brings success.

11. Have a 2 inch thick skin: it feels good to be a Rhino.

12. Kick the worry habit: things always work out for the best.

13. Associate with winners: as you associate—you become.

14. Work together: GO FOR IT!!

15. Expect some rotten days: charge at your problems—take action.

16. You have to give to get: when you share—you care a hundredfold.

17. Be a kid again: have a new experience.

18. Take a Rhino rest: don’t forget about the crash of Rhinos.

19. Declare yourself a Rhino: become a Rhino today.


The day Rog gave me the Rhino talk he gave me a Rhino card. Yes, I’m a card carrying member of the Rhino nation. I carry it in my wallet to this day.

Damn the torpedoes friends! Keep charging! When the writing world has you by the throat and you want to quit—dig deep and find your Rhino skin.

Lila Munro is a writer of contemporary romance currently residing on the coast of North Carolina. She is a military wife and takes much of her inspiration for her heroes from the marines she’s lived around for the past fourteen years. Coining the term realmantica, she strives to produce quality romance in a realistic setting. When she’s not writing, she enjoys reading everything she can get her hands on, trips to the museum and aquarium, taking field research trips, and soaking up the sun on the nearby beaches. Her works include The Executive Officer’s Wife, Bound By Trust, All I Want for Christmas is Redemption, Destiny’s Fire, A Slower Lower Love, Salvation, Force Recon: Beacon Bayou, and Identity Crisis. Currently she’s working on sequels to several series to be released throughout 2010-2011. Ms. Munro always works as the Director of Marketing and Public Relations for Rebel Ink Press. She loves to hear from her readers and can be contacted via her website http://lilamunro.weebly.com , her joint effort website http://www.wickedmuses.blogspot.com or through Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/Lila_Munro You can also contact her via email at lilasromance@gmail.com For more information about Rebel Ink Press please visit their website at www.rebelinkpress.com

Said Judith at Book Binge about A Slower Lower Love book one in the Delaney Brothers series:

This is one of those novels that needs to be read and re-read. There is so much here and such depth that it will, in my opinion, take more than one read through to plumb those depths and identify all that is going on with the characters. So I recommend that lovers of romance novels with tension, authentic emotion, and essential humanity not miss this story. It is a full length novel and well worth the time and effort to explore. I give it a rating of 5 out of 5.

Book two, A Slower Lower Life, is now available through Rebel Ink Press.

When two worlds collide,

Being the oldest of eight has never been easy for Kurt Delaney, but the pressures he’s put on himself far exceed any anyone else inflicts on him. Known as the family stick in the mud, Kurt’s pushing forty and with the heirship to the family farm hanging in the balance, he finds his hopes of a married life and children swirling down the drain. Honor and family are everything to him and a mate that doesn’t hold those things as dear as he does is unacceptable.

Deidre Maloney is a city born and bred girl. In the absence of her botanist parents, she was raised by a nanny and knows nothing of a family’s love or how being married works. Commitment isn’t a word in her vocabulary. Only concerned with finding a new job and a fling, she embarks on a trip from Chicago to Seaford, Delaware to see her best friend Cait marry her high school sweetheart. Being attracted to a Delaney brother wasn’t on her carefully planned itinerary.

the aftermath is all that matters…

With so many differences between him and Deidre, Kurt can’t believe he’s let himself fall for her. She’s looking for a prime rib guy and he knows he’s just skirt steak. When they’re in close proximity, however, something undeniably amazing happens. How does he convince her that family isn’t something to fear and love doesn’t hurt? How does Kurt show Deidre that a slower, lower life is what she’s been looking for all along?


Kurt wondered what the hell Deidre had been thinking booking a flight so early. Not only did he have to be on the road by six a.m., he’d make the outer loop just in time for Monday morning rush hour. Inconsiderate was the nicest word he could think of to call her under his breath as he climbed in his gold Ford F-250 with a cup of coffee in one hand. Cait was tickled pink that Deidre was within hours of arriving and had called him three times the previous day to remind him of her arrival time and flight number. On the third call, Bryce had taken the phone and sprang the rest of the joyous news on Kurt. It seemed Deidre didn’t want to impose on the soon to be newlyweds and was refusing to stay at their nice newly renovated big house on the river. Both sets of parents were full up with relatives flocking in, the beach houses were taken by still more relatives, and Deidre in all her infinite wisdom had failed to book a room in time and now every motel from Seaford to the beach was full with the holiday weekend coming up. Kurt lived in the two bedroom brick that had been his parents’ starter home, and guess who was now staying in the second bed. Great. Was there no end to this wedding day hell?

Two hours later, just as Kurt merged onto the 295, he was further annoyed when he hit a solid wall of commuters trying to get to work. Inconsiderate. Would a two hour delay have killed her? She hadn’t seen Cait in almost eight months and two more hours would have done her in? By the time he pulled into the parking garage at BWI, Kurt was ready to spit nails. He wondered how much it would take to bribe Kelly, the little gal that ran the local Ho-Jo, to rent out a broom closet for his guest. Snatching a ticket from the automated machine at the garage entrance, he glanced down at the clock in the dash. Nine. She was supposed to land at eight fifty-five. With any luck, they’d still be in a holding pattern and she’d never know he was late.

Finally after almost twenty minutes of circling, he located a spot big enough to accommodate his more than economy sized vehicle and parked, bailed out, and hurried into the terminal. Quickly scanning the incoming flights board he discovered that Southwest 665 had indeed landed on time, in fact, it had landed fifteen minutes early. Shit. Kurt walked as quickly as he dared without looking suspicious and getting stopped and frisked by security to baggage claim. Surely she’d be smart enough to stay there.

Kurt rounded the final corner to find the carousel area void of passengers. Not a single bag remained on the conveyor, not a single person waited to claim anything. Where the hell did she go? Okay, where would I go if I’d just landed and had already claimed my luggage? She’s a female, dumbass. The bathroom. Kurt turned on his heel and headed back toward the blue sign he’d seen hanging overhead indicating where the lavatories were. Standing just outside the ladies’ room, he waited a few minutes. If she was in there surely she’d have come back out by now. An elderly woman in a pair of green plaid golfing shorts and a white polo shirt with a pink ball cap on her gray head popped out of the swinging door nearly striking Kurt in the face he’d been standing so close.

“Oh, excuse me,” she said in a crackly voice. “You shouldn’t have been so close to the door.”

“Yes, ma’am, I realize that,” Kurt answered, touching the bill of his Soil Service cap with his fingertips. “Did you see a woman about this tall?” He held his hand to his chest. “With black hair and gray eyes in there? At least that’s what she looked like last time I saw her.”

“Well, she couldn’t have changed that much in, what? Ten minutes?” the old woman snapped and looked at Kurt like he’d sprouted a third eye.

“No, no. I’m picking her up. I haven’t seen her in a while…”

Before Kurt could finish his sentence, a woman that he was sure was Deidre came out of the restroom wearing a strapless white sundress that only fell to the middle of her thighs and was stretched so taut across her breasts her nipples strained against the fabric. And they were apparently uncomfortable with their hindrance. His eyes followed the lines of the fabric along the rest of her body and down her tan legs to find spike heel open toe white pumps on her feet. Ten tiny perfect toes with red tips peeked out. He scanned back up with his breath caught in his throat. Big, square framed black sunglasses hid her eyes so he couldn’t see the color, but that short black hair and big gold hoop earrings. That was Deidre.

“Deidre?” Kurt said, wiping his sweaty palms along his jeans. What was wrong with him? He’d seen her before. Of course that was last fall and she was covered up in a pair of chocolate corduroy pants and a burnt orange sweater, and a cream silk scarf had partially covered her head. It was funny to him that he actually remembered that. Now that he could actually see her. Wow. “Deidre is that you?”

The woman looked up and never so much as attempted a smile. It was then that he noticed she looked a bit pale and along with the carry on she held in her left hand she dragged three enormous suitcases stacked up behind her.

“My God, woman. You are just staying a few days right?” he asked, reaching around her and taking the telescopic handle she hung on to, relieving her of the melee of bags.

“Kurt? Long time no see.” Deidre tugged the purse handle on her shoulder a bit tighter and huffed. “You’re late.”

“Well, you should have thought of that possibility when you expected someone to get here before the chickens woke up. Do you know what traffic is like out there right now?” Kurt forgot the breathless feeling he’d experienced when he first looked at her.

“Of course I do. Did you forget I used to live here? I like to travel early and with some planning the traffic should never be a problem.” She fanned herself with one hand. “I’m ready to go.” With that she stomped off toward the double doors that would take them back to the parking garage in a quick march.

“I can understand why you haven’t seen her in a while,” the old woman said and laughed. “I wouldn’t want to either.”

This was going to be a treat, Kurt thought to himself. Not only was she a city girl, she thought her stuff didn’t stink. Did she think he was nothing more than her chauffer and concierge for the week? Well, she had another think coming. He watched her perfectly round butt swishing back and forth seductively and gave the heap of baggage a tug. How she managed to pull the mammoth mess as far as she had was beyond him. Before he made it ten feet past where he’d found her she disappeared out the doors. Taking his time, Kurt made his way through the terminal all the while muttering what he really thought about her behavior quietly and smiling at the other passers-by. He took a deep breath and went out the doors.

Purchase Link:


22 May 2011

Six Sentence Sunday

And Beth again:

“Yeah, babe, just a wrong number.”

He groaned. “Did someone get your number mixed up with Emily’s again?”

This isn't Emily, I wrote. “I guess so.”

“When are you going to take her off your phone plan?” Dalton looked up at me with his lovely green eyes, shadowed by sleep.

Poor Beth. I feel bad for her where her story is going. lol

21 May 2011

Ryssa Edwards Interviews Lucifer!

Hi, everybody! Pleas help me say hello to Ryssa Edwards, author of Dark Angels, All The Stars and Warrior Angel, Heart's Desire, both part of the Immortal Pleasure Series. She's got a fabulous interview with none other than Lucifer, so have a look and enjoy!

Thanks for dropping in, Ryssa!

Hi Lindsay! Thanks for having me.

I’m really excited about my upcoming release Dark Angel, All the Stars. It’s the story of how the Archangel Lucifer falls in love with a mortal.

And since he knows I’m promoting his book, Lucifer was nice enough to sit for an interview. Here it is, my Interview With the Dark Angel

Me: Thanks for coming, Lucifer. That was really nice of you.

Lucifer: Nice? You don’t remember signing the dotted line?

Me: That was to get on your calendar, right?

Lucifer: *way too sneaky smile* Of course. What questions can I answer for you?

Me: Well, I think readers might be wondering what your average day in Hell is like.

Lucifer: Torment.

Me: Not the souls. You. What do you do?

Lucifer: *laughing* Torment. But that’s just to start my morning off right. After I visit the lower chambers to see to see to everyone’s . . .ahhh. . comfort. . . I fly up to my office.

Me: You have an office?

Lucifer: What do you think? That I bathe in flames and just hope Hell keeps going along?

Me: Sort of.

Lucifer: Must be interesting to be human and so limited in your thinking. My office is what you would call a palace. Aery—you know who he is?

Me: Everyone knows who he is. You’ve made him famous. He says that in his interview he’ll be telling all about the bed of flames you two share.

Lucifer: *giving the interviewer a sharp look* I hope he drove a hard bargain for that.

Me: He asked me to take this (interviewer snaps a picture of Lucifer with her phone). He said the look on your face would be priceless. *nervous laughter* He was right.

Lucifer: Your time on my calendar is nearly up. If you stay in Hell past your appointed time, you’ll be here with me quite a few centuries.

Me: *shuffling through my questions* Right. Forgot about that. So, in your office, what do you do?

Lucifer: Review offers from mortals who send me requests to sell their souls. I cull the best ones, and send my imps to make an offer.

Me: Let’s say a reader wants to sell their soul, how would they contact you? Is there a Lucifer.com? Do you have bargain basement sale days?

Lucifer: *leaning way too close* A soul in need of my services will always find me.

Me: Great. So, my next question is the one question that mortals have been ahh. . .burning to know.

Lucifer: If you ask about the apple, I’ll promise you seven years of edits from Hell.

Me: *swallowing* Well, not the apple, exactly, but you know, were you really there in the Garden of Eden?

Lucifer: Of course. I was the most beautiful creature in creation, the most worshipped, until mortals came into the picture. I had to see these new “mirrors of divinity” as they were called. *gives this reporter a slow up and down look* I wasn’t impressed.

Me: But you fell in love with a mortal.

Lucifer: The Garden was eons ago. Aery has changed me. Mortals are more than just souls for sale. I see that now. He loves me. It’s what my brother Raphael would call a miracle.

Me: And you? Do you love him?

Lucifer: *a long thoughtful pause* If I had to, I would let go of every soul I’ve collected since the beginning of time, if it meant I could keep Aery.


Me: Looks like my time is just about up.

Lucifer: *wicked smile* Are you sure I can’t entice you to stay?

It was a close call, but I made it out of Hell just before Lucifer’s Infernal Calendar Clock slammed the gate shut.

Lucifer says if you have a soul to sell, you’ll know where to find him.

Dark Angel, All the Stars is coming out on May 28th with Silver Publishing. You can pre-order now on my blog.

My name is Ryssa Edwards and this has been . . an Interview With the Dark Angel

Finding Ryssa on the web:

Blog: http://ryssaedwards.blogspot.com/

Facebook: facebook.com/RyssaEdwards

20 May 2011

Guest Blogger: Shay McLean + Book Giveaway!

Hey, folks! Lindsay here, with a special guest by the name of Shay McLean. Shay has graciously opted to do a flash fiction for us, and I think you're really going to enjoy it. Also, one lucky commenter will win a copy of Shooting Stars!

*squeal* That means all you shy readers out there need to leave a comment. Don't be shy now. We don't bite. Without further ado, here's Shay!

Golden Feather

By Shay McLean

That’s not going to work out so well for me, Ciera thought as she stalked back through the ruins of Mesa Verde, hoping like hell she could remember which way they’d come in. Her twin sister, Cara had just “informed” her that she was going to be giving a couple of the guys from her archeology class a ride back to campus. Where did that leave her? Feeling like a fifth wheel…again.

Like always.

She’d been in a slump with her painting and couldn’t seem to find inspiration anywhere. Cara had decided to drag her out of her studio and bring her along on her class field trip to the Cliff Palace. She’d tried to tell explain that she didn’t do landscapes, but her sister never listened to her.

She should have known better than to believe Cara had genuinely wanted to help her by spending the day trying to help her find inspiration. Oh, Cara meant well when she’d shown up at her apartment at five o’clock in the morning, but she was notorious for dropping everyone and everything else at the drop of a hat for a cute guy.

Ciera stopped and looked around a sudden feeling of panic slithered down her spine when she realized she didn’t recognize anything. Oh, God! How do I get myself into these situations? She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. There was no need to panic. She could find her way back to Cara and ask her to walk her to the car.

Opening her eyes again she was struck by the beauty of the way the sunlight played off the sandstone walls, revealing a multitude of colors she’d never seen in stone. She reached out and ran her hand over the rock.

It was worn smooth in some places, but mostly gritty. Closing her eyes she continued to run her hand along the wall as she began to walk. In her mind she was imagining the strokes of her paint brush, committing to memory the textures and colors she’d use to convey the emotions that had begun to crash over her.

She didn’t notice when the temperature dropped a few degrees until she felt the contrast of where her hand rested against the wall and the air around her. Her eyes flew open and she found she’d found she’d walked deeper into the cliff palace than she should have, but that didn’t explain why heat seemed to emanate from the stone where her hand rested when the rest of the wall was cold to the touch.

She slowly moved her hand away. Warmth whispered through a small crack in the wall. That was impossible though. Chalking it up to an overactive imagination induced by her near panic attack a few minutes ago, she turned and started to walk away when a shaft of sunlight from another crack in the ceiling high above hit the tiny fissure.

A glint of gold winked at her. She hesitated for a moment, glancing around to see if there were any park officials anywhere near, certain they’d frown upon on what she was fixing to do. When she was satisfied that no one would witness her act of defacing part of a national park she returned to the crack and grasped the metal object between two fingers and began to wiggle it.

After several minutes, she let out a small squeal of triumph when it finally slipped free and tumbled into her hand. She blew the loose sand and debris away. She was surprised to find it was a small heart shaped rock linked with a tiny golden feather. Upon further inspection she realized there was something etched into the heart.

She used the hem of her t-shirt and polished it so she could make out what it was. Bringing it closer to her she made out what looked like a Q, although the line denoting as such resembled a burning torch. The etching was lined in gold and seemed to pulse within her hand, her heart beat in time with it. She shook her head. She had to have been out in the sun too much today. A stone didn't pulse.

Her eyes remained transfixed on the treasure in her palm. The golden etching began to glow with an otherworldly light. She dropped it, spun on her heel and started to run.

“Why do you run from your destiny, Ciera?”

She stopped dead in her tracks at the sound of her name. Swallowing the terror threatening to overwhelm her, she turned around slowly, praying she wasn’t fixing to meet with an untimely end. There were so many things she still hadn’t experienced.

Selling her art through a prestigious gallery…sex…love….sex…her first real kiss…

Let’s face it the couple of kisses she’d had didn’t count as real since the boy in question didn’t know shit about kissing.

She steeled herself for the worst when her gaze collided with the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen.

Before her stood a virtual god, at least six foot three inches tall, his calves were encased in moccasins, her gaze traveled up his powerful thighs. Her eyes widened at the sight of what could only be a breechclout riding low on his hips. She gulped and forced herself to continue on when she realized she was wondering what he was wearing underneath it.

Her eyes swept over the taut muscles of his washboard abs, well defined, totally smooth pecs, noting what appeared to be a tattoo of a burning torch on the left side. Straight black hair trailed over his shoulders a feather tied into it near his temple and she couldn’t help but wonder if it would feel as soft as it looked. Resisting the urge to do just that, she forced her gaze to his face.

She gasped. He really was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. His face was all planes and angles, just like all the Native Americans she’d grown up with, but it was his eyes that held her in a trance. So deep a brown they looked black and they burned with an inner fire that drew her like a moth to a flame. Before she realized what she was doing, she’d closed the distance between them until she stood mere inches away. So close she could feel the warmth of his breath when he sucked in a deep breath. She opened her mouth to say something, but no sound came out.

His lips curved into a smile. “Ahh, Ciera, I can see the soul fire stirring in your heart.” His voice was a husky whisper. He reached out a hand to cup her cheek.

She jerked away at his forward gesture. No matter how good looking, she thought he was it didn’t give him the right to touch her. “Hhh…how did you know my name?” She finally managed to stammer.

He dropped his hand to a pouch that hung around his hips and took something out of it. “I’ve been waiting for you for a very long time.” He held out his hand to her and opened it.

She warily took a step closer to see what he held. She stared in disbelief at the other half of the necklace her Grandmother had given her. What was it she had said when she’d presented it to her on her sixteenth birthday…When the fire flares between your souls, follow where your heart leads, a love that defies all will await you.

She looked back at his face and searched his eyes. They were a dark, rich brown like hot cocoa on a cold winter night. She watched them for a long time, feeling herself melting into them. She shook her head to clear it. “Where did you get that?” she asked gesturing to his hand.

“My Great Grandfather gave it to me when I passed the rites into manhood. He said something about a fire that flares between your souls and following where your…” he trailed off.
“…follow where your heart leads, a love that defies all will await you.” She held his gaze wondering if this was some sort of joke.

“I know this may seem strange, but there is one way to find out if what our grandparents said is true.”


“We kiss.”

“What?” The word burst out before she could stop it.

“Legend says that when the two souls that ignite the soul fire kiss for the first time the fire will flare between them leaving behind a burning desire that can only be quenched when they fully accept and merge their souls.”

A nervous laugh escaped her. “You expect me to kiss you? A total stranger? Who wasn’t even standing here a few minutes ago? Where the hell did you come from anyway?” She could have slapped herself when she failed to stop the string of questions from leaving her mouth.

He raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t that what I just said?” He regarded her for a moment before continuing. “I totally understand your hesitation, but look at it this way. If you kiss me and nothing happens, then you’ll go on with your life as though nothing ever happened.”

“And if what our grandparents and the legend say is true?”

“Then the soul fire will lead us to one another and we’ll have the chance at something that defies most of the natural laws of the universe.” He fell silent while she contemplated what he said.
She pondered his reasons for a moment. What he said seemed reasonable, and really she had to have hit her head or something in her panic attack anyway. There was no way any of this was real. Why not just enjoy the dream and kiss him. It was probably the closest she’d get to a kiss any time soon. She looked up and met his eyes. “Okay. Kiss me.”

“Are you sure? That was a pretty quick turn around.”

“Look this is my dream and if I want to change how I normally act then I will.” Holding his gaze, she moved closer so there was barely an inch separating them.

He raised his hand and reached to cup her cheek. “Close your eyes,” he commanded.

She closed her eyes and waited. When he finally caressed her face she let out a deep breath she hadn't even realized she’d been holding.

He stroked his thumb over her lower lip then dropped the lightest of kisses on it.

She inhaled sharply when the tiniest of sparks shot through her at the contact. Her lips parted as she struggled to remember to breath.

He took advantage of that and slipped his tongue inside and brushed it against hers. Angling his mouth to gain better access to hers. He didn’t move to touch her in any other way, but with his hand and his lips.

She’d never imagined a kiss could be this decadent. And she wanted more. She reached up and plunged her hands into the black silk of his hair, marveling at the softness of it tickling her skin.
Heat pooled in her core, burning with a need she’d never experienced before. She focused on it for a moment only to feel it flare inside her.

A secret fire sparked to life and licked its way through her until it settled in her heart.
In the next instance, she felt bereft as cold air settled around her making her shiver. She blinked in confusion and glanced around trying to figure out where he’d gone. This was her dream…damn it…she should be able to say when it ended.

A glimmer of gold winked at her from the ground. She bent down and picked it up. She stared in shock at the stone heart etched with the blazing torch with a tiny golden feather dangling from it. The engraving on the heart pulsed with an energy that spoke to hers.

‘Come to me.’

Ciera sat down hard on the ground, her gaze never leaving the stone in her hand. Questioning is she should be worried about her sanity. She’d always indulged her Grandmother with her ramblings, but she’d never really believed them. Until now.

There was no mistaking the fact that she was wide awake, the stone in her hand was indeed pulsing with an unseen energy, a fire burned inside her heart…whispering with the voice of a man she’d seen and kissed in a vision just moments before…

Telling her to come to him.

The question was did she believe in it enough to follow her heart.

Shooting Stars:


Dr. Wilhemina Brock prides herself on her ability to keep her private life with her husband Schyler just that – private. But when Keenan, the new nurse on staff, catches a glimpse of her tramp stamp, she’s coerced into spilling the story behind it, revealing how she broke the student-professor boundaries and hooked her husband.


Dr. Wilhemina Brock glanced in the mirror on the door of her locker. She frowned at the tight braid she'd twisted it into that morning. She reached up and released the clip holding it in place then shook out her long raven tresses. Soft wispy locks curled around her shoulders, sending shivers of pleasure dancing on her skin. Much better. Smiling to herself she grabbed her black t-shirt and started to pull it over her head.

A whistle sounded from the door. “Damn, that’s sexy.” A very masculine voice said.

Willa spun around, tugging the hem of her shirt into place. Keenan Fergason. The newest addition to the nursing staff. His muscular build, rugged features, reddish brown hair and sparkling green eyes had everyone lusting after him. She could feel the blush that stained her cheeks at his continued appraisal of her. “I don’t know what you're talking about, Keenan. I’ve gotta run. I’m meeting Schy for dinner in half an hour.” She reached up to stuff her lab coat into her locker and felt the bottom of her shirt raise above her low cut jeans.

“I’m not letting you leave here until you give me the dirt on that sexy tramp stamp you’re sporting there, Dr. Willa,” Kee said.

She glanced over in time to see him wiggle his eyebrows as he said the words tramp stamp. Shit. Just what she needed. News of her guilty pleasure traveling all over the hospital as she was finishing up her residency.




Dreams N Fantasies

Wicked Ink Press

Publisher link


Author Info

Shay has been writing most of her life. As a teenager, she focused mainly on poetry, but still dabbled in writing short stories. She didn't find her niche though until she started listening to the characters in her head whispering about the dark and sensual worlds to be explored in erotic romance. Now when she's not engrossed in a great read, she listens intently when her muse murmurs seductively in her ear. She also enjoys photography and graphic design. And although she isn’t an artist by any means she designed the tattoo featured in Shooting Stars. When she’s not writing she enjoys reading and spending time with her family. You can contact her at shay@shaymaclean.com, on Facebook Page and Twitter.

18 May 2011

Titan's Jewel, Part Eleven (5/18/11)

That time of week again! Here's the next installment of Titan's Jewel, and be sure and check out the rest of the flashers at the end of the post.

*LANGUAGE* (I think. Better to be safe than sorry, I always say.)

Here we go:

“Climb?” Shiloh looked up the rickety wooden ladder and back to Brett.

“I’m going to get some gas,” Tom called down. “Don’t worry.”

Don’t worry? Okay, she thought, glancing over her shoulder and pulling closer to her stronger counterpart. “Okay, let’s climb.”

Brett frowned. “Are you sure?” We can wait here until Tom gets back.”

“You kidding me? That – that thing is back there.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I’m not standing around down here like a lame duck.”

“All right.” He knelt and grabbed the ropes at her feet.

“What are you doing?”

“We’re going to be tandem tied. You don’t want to free fall if the ladder breaks, do you?” He began tying his elaborate knots around her legs and midsection. She remained silent, staring at the tunnels and praying for his hands to work fast.

“Okay,” he said after what seemed like an eternity. “I’m going to climb up a few rungs and get these into the wall.” Brett procured two hooks from his backpack. “I’ll tell you when to come up.”

“How long am I going to be standing down here alone?”

“I just need to loop the loose rope through. They’ll catch us if we’re falling. Look, just watch me.” Shiloh nodded, wide eyed. He grabbed her shoulders, drawing her attention. “Did I let it get you back there?”

“No,” she whispered.

He nodded and grabbed the rungs, hauling himself up with sure movements. She did as she was told, keeping her eyes on him. He stopped a quarter of the way up and drove the hooks into the solid wall, looping the rope through and securing it.

“Come on, Shiloh,” Brett called over his shoulder.

Swallowing, she gripped the first rung and lifted herself onto the ladder. It groaned and shifted under her weight and she gasped, flattening herself to the wall. A noise from the tunnels behind her made Shiloh jump and climb three rungs without hesitation, adrenaline pumping through her body. She’d rather plummet to her death than fall victim to that thing.

Brett waited patiently until she had reached him, simply relaxing with his feet against the wall and gripping the ropes for leverage. He shifted to allow her passage, but the rung under her foot snapped and Shiloh felt the world dropping away from her.

A strong arm caught her waist. Brett pulled her up against him as she gripped the rope desperately, gasping for breath. “Oh, shit,” she whispered as her heart raced.

“It’s okay,” he said softly. “I’ve got you.”

“I can’t…I don’t know if I can do this.”

He gripped her hips, spinning her on the rope until her back was to the wall. Brett had a secure grip on the loose end of her rope and she was suspended in mid-air as he leaned against the wall nonchalantly, smiling.

“Jesus Christ, Brett.”

“I think,” he said, still smiling, “that we need to take a minute to relax.”

Relax? I’m suspended in the middle of a tube between a monster and salvation. This is worse than purgatory. “I’d rather just get to the surface,” she said.

“Trust me. I know best.”

Shiloh rolled her eyes. “Oh, my god. Your ego is outrageous.”

“Tell me about it.” Brett winked theatrically, drawing a hint of a smile from her. “Want to hear a story?”

“A story?” she asked incredulously. “Shouldn’t we be climbing?”

“Tom will be back soon to pull us out. Let me tell you about this woman at our high school. We called her ‘the friendly librarian’, because she liked to pull all the boys to the archives and -”

“Okay,” Shiloh interrupted, her face burning red. “I really don’t need to hear about your lost virginity.”

Brett guffawed. “That wasn’t where I was going. She got fired and never worked with kids again.”

“Oh. That’s, ah…good.”

He smiled, pulling her a little closer. “Tell me something from your past.”

“Like what?” She swung forward, landing against Brett. He wrapped an arm around her, holding her in place as Shiloh’s breath caught in her throat.

“I don’t care,” he said softly.

“Ah…” His warm breath was on her cheek, fogging her mind. “I, ah…”

“Tell me about your first love,” he prompted.

“Okay. His name was Paul. We were in eighth grade, holding hands and all that jazz.” She giggled on the memory. “One day, he came over and we snuck out to my dad’s worksite. I took him into the excavator to show him the controls and he made his move. He was my first kiss.” She turned to look at Brett and their noses brushed. “That’s all.”

Brett reached out tentatively and ran a hand across her cheek, brushing away rogue hairs. Everywhere his fingers dragged sent a trail of fire across her skin and her breath grew ragged. He cupped her chin, drawing her closer still, and she felt his breath on her lips.

“Hey,” Tom called from above, breaking the trance as they leaped apart, sending Shiloh swinging madly. “I got the machine filled. You ready to be pulled up?”

Brett was chuckling to himself, tongue lodged firmly in his cheek. “Son of a bitch,” he muttered while unhooking the ropes from the hooks on the wall. Shiloh dropped a little, making her flail out and grab his arm for support. “I’ve got you,” he said, pulling her into him. “Yeah,” he called up to Tom. “Pull us out.”

As the ropes jerked and they began moving upward, Shiloh felt his fingers grip a little tighter to her hips.


The other magnificent flashers:

15 May 2011

Six Sentence Sunday

Continuing with Beth:

You have the wrong number, I replied slowly, my tongue lodged between my teeth. Sighing, I threw the phone on the table and fell back on my pillow, my arm over my eyes.

Ding-a-bink-a-ding! Don’t play me, Emily.

Annoyance flustered me as an arm settled across my stomach. “Everything okay, Beth?” my husband, Dalton, mumbled into my side.

Happy Sunday! Too bad there's Monday to look forward to.

11 May 2011

Titan's Jewel, Part Ten (5/11/11)

Well, it's that time of week again! We left Shiloh off last week, backing away from some sort of thing crawling at her from the shadows. Without further ado, let's pick it up. There's probably some


so fair warning.

Brett watched, stupefied, as Shiloh backed away in silent horror before she bolted blindly for the tunnel on the left. “Shiloh!” But she didn’t stop. She disappeared, stumbling into the darkness.

Left with little choice, he gave chase. His flashlight beam bouncing with each pounding step across the ground, he darted around the body of a man near the opening of the tunnel.

Skidding to a stop so quickly he toppled backwards, Brett rolled over and pushed himself to a defensive crouch. He swallowed, flashing his light across the ground where he’d just seen a man laying face down on the dirt, arm outstretched towards the tunnel where Shiloh had disappeared.

But the ground was barren and empty, nothing but rocks. Brett struggled to calm his breath, glancing over his shoulder into the tunnel. The dark abyss stretched behind him. Somewhere in there was Shiloh, terrified and on the run from something only she could see. Nerves clenched in his chest, cutting off the air to his lungs.

What was the saying his father used to recite when Mother Nature beat his old fishing boat with vicious rains? “I am the pilot of this storm. The winds obey me; the rains feed my soul; the thunder drives me; and the lightning illuminates my path in this otherwise dark world.”

The words steadied him some, and Brett used the moist wall to stand. With a last, lingering look at the open cavern he moved steadily into the darkness in search of his friend.

“Wish I had some lightning,” he muttered, his hand running along the moist wall while the flashlight lit the path ahead. Old rail ties stuck out of the ground at odd angles, long rusted in the dank underground mines. A cart sat ahead, forgotten and sitting half off the track as though abandoned in a mad rush.

A thud ahead had him on edge. Brett waved his flashlight towards the source to see a foot drag itself around the corner.

Leaping back, he pressed against the wall. “Jesus Christ,” he whispered. Calm down. That could be Shiloh, injured. Swallowing, he stepped forward, towards the corner. “Shiloh?” he called tentatively. His voice echoed back to him.

“Get it together, man.” Brett reprimanded himself. “Shiloh is counting on you.”

Taking a deep breath, he held it and leaped around the corner. He expected to find Shiloh, huddled against a wall and injured, judging by the way the foot was dragging. Instead, he met an empty hall. Frowning, he moved forward slowly. “Shiloh,” he whispered. “It’s me. Brett.”


The whisper came from behind him, a masculine sound unlike anything he’d ever heard. Hidden in the layers of the voice were the ethereal screams of the damned.

Brett leaped forward, turning mid-jump and focusing his light right where the man had whispered in his ear. Empty air greeted him. “What the fuck.”

His heart racing and threatening to beat right out of his chest, Brett made a hasty path forward, around three corners. “Shiloh!” he called, his voice reflecting back to him.

A scream sounded off from somewhere ahead. He sprinted forward, using the walls as grounding points when he needed to turn, until he was tripped.

Brett’s face rebounded off the track, his nose cracking under the pressure. Pain flooded him as his vision blurred and popped, and blood flowed down his face. Cursing, he stumbled to his feet and looked behind him.

He couldn’t see anything through the tears from his broken nose. Shiloh screamed again from somewhere ahead. Fear rose in his chest as he blinked to clear his vision. Shedding the backpack, he quickly tore his shirt off to stem the bleeding while he ran towards Shiloh’s scream, grabbing his flashlight before he took off at full speed.

She was around the next turn, pressed against the wall and staring at the ceiling. He stopped just short of her and swung his flashlight to where she was staring.

The light caught something as it flashed out of sight. “Holy shit,” he exclaimed, grabbing Shiloh’s shoulder. Her huge eyes swung towards him, barely registering he was there. The fear in them was evident. “Shiloh, we have to get out of here.”

She didn’t budge, apparently frozen to the wall. Brett cursed under his breath and bodily lifted her, throwing her over his shoulder. He made a quick path towards his backpack, knowing they needed the supplies.

The flashlight beam caught something dropping from the ceiling. Brett froze, listening intently. Shiloh began gasping and clawing desperately at his back in an attempt to get down and he knew the thing was behind him.

Brett ran for their lives, dropping Shiloh in front of him as he found the backpack and snatched it on the run. She sprinted, using the wall as a guide and the flashlight beam as her homing beacon. Brett kept close behind her. He didn’t look back. He didn’t want to turn around and look this thing in face.

The cavern came into view, the precious natural light, minimal as it was, shining into the darkness. Almost there.

When they burst into the open space, Brett was already yelling. “Tom! Tom!” The old man’s face appeared in the hole at the top of the rickety wooden ladder. “We’re tying up. Pull us out with the excavator.”

“I can’t,” he replied.

“What?” Shiloh was panicking, her nails gripping at Brett's arm. “The hell does he mean?” she said softly, her breath coming in gasping spurts.

“The excavator is out of gas,” Tom yelled.

Dumbfounded, Brett looked at Shiloh. “Well, then. We have to climb.”


And the other great flashers:

Julie Hayes

Sui Lynn

Lily Sawyer

Victoria Blisse

Pender Mackie

Ryssa Edwards

08 May 2011

Six Sentence Sunday

Happy Sunday, folks! I think I'll kick off a new WIP this week. Sam and Shadow still haven't come back from the dark recesses of my mind.

Hmm...Here's a bit from a piece I've been working on periodically. The antagonist in this one was interviewed somewhere already because he refused to leave me alone. lol, here we go.

Groaning, I rolled over and blinked a few times to bring my alarm clock into focus. Three-thirty in the morning? Who the hell was texting me at three-thirty?

With sloppy movements, I activated my touch screen and winced against the bright light as the unfamiliar number popped onto the screen.

'Bitch. Where are you?'

So begins Beth!

07 May 2011

3.5 paws for Delila! And Free Comic Book Day!

Hi, guys! A few things this fine Saturday morning.

First off, today is Free Comic Book Day! Go get a comic book, and let's make literacy a win.

Second, Delila was reviewed at Rabid Reads and she got 3.5 paws! *faints* Many, many thanks to Carmel for taking the time to both read Delila's story and write this review!

And last, but most definitely not least, take a looksie right below this post for Em Petrova's guest blog today. It's right down there.

Seriously, riiiiiighhhhhhtttt there. ;) Happy reading!

Guest Blogger Em Petrova!

Please help me welcome Em Petrova! She's here today talking about cybersex. Ooooh...

Without further ado:

Can Cybersex Really Get You Off?

By Em Petrova

Sex is everywhere, from magazine ads to full frontal nudity on HBO, we’re exposed to it. And since we’ve adopted technology into our everyday lives, we see even more of it. Dating sites bring people together and after getting to know one another via emails, webcams and instant messaging, they might begin to feel emotionally attached to that person. Often they “hook up” before virtual dates, using Skype or other modes of communication to have sex.

So can you really get off this way? I have a few friends with husbands in the military, and this is a great way to stay connected. When you spend six months apart at a time, it’s important not to forget one another, and the best way to do that is through technology. Though you don’t get the benefit of skin-to-skin contact, your memories of your loved one will carry you through until you see each other again. These couples use masturbation, dirty talk, and visual stimulation to find release. It’s porn with your loved one as the star!

When it comes to cybersex, the cues can be easily read wrong. A single word might turn off your lover, or even frighten them. Without the benefit of being face-to-face, your words might sound harsh.

Some people like cybersex with strangers. The excitement adds that spice to their lives they’ve been missing. Others need an emotional tie to have sex via the internet.

So does it work? I’ve heard people say they use it often and others who have tried it and missed the lack of a warm, soft human. The brain is the biggest erogenous zone, so some well-timed words can do wonders for your desire. For some, cybersex fills a void in their relationships or lives. It keeps them feeling part of a long-distance relationship or even part of a new and exciting one.

Overall, cybersex is a growing trend. It’s also a topic which gets a lot of opposition and strong views about morality and values. I think most readers would agree with a “to each his own” mindset while we definitely do not want minors involved. If adults consent and they’re comfortable with the situation, good for them. Have a rousing mutual masturbation session via cam or talk dirty until those little words “I just came” pop onto your screen. As long as you don’t break the barriers of your comfort level, that’s great. After all pleasure comes in all forms.

Em Petrova

~where words mean so much more~


Runes: http://tiny.cc/rh5yl

Tattoo Dream: http://tiny.cc/lsxr3

My Sexy Valentine: http://tiny.cc/2w5ea

Isolde’s Wish: http://www.loose-id.com/Isoldes-Wish.aspx

Deux: http://tiny.cc/mya0b

Trefoil: http://www.eredsage.com/store/product859.html

Forbidden: http://www.eredsage.com/store/Forbidden.html