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~

http://www.empetrova.com

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

Guest Blogger Victoria Blisse! (R)

Well, hello! Please welcome Victoria Blisse to my blog today. She's not only doing a guest post, but also a free read! *confetti* Thanks for dropping by, Victoria!

*THIS ONE IS HOT*

If you don't like erotica, please do not read on. You have been advised.

Hello everyone, I am Victoria Blisse and today I am going to share a sexy free read with you!

I live in England, near Manchester and I have been writing erotic romance for over ten years, my first story was published in 2006 and I have dozens of titles available for download now. It is rather a dream come true. I love to write and as much as I love to receive my royalty cheques, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t, I love pleasing people with my words even more.

This is why if you visit victoriablisse.co.uk you will find a whole section filled with free reads which I hope will whet your appetite for a bit more Blisse. I write rosy, raunchy romance and my heroines are always curvy girls. I like to show that everyone is sexy and get away from the perfect size ten kind of heroine you see so often in romace stories.

The tale I’m going to share with you is a short and hot piece set in the summer. I have a love for dancing, even though I am rather terrible at it. I go to a zumba class on a Monday night and thoroughly enjoy moving to the music even if I’m not quite following the steps correctly. That class is what inspired the following story.

I can’t Dance by Victoria Blisse

I don’t like to dance. I can’t dance, in fact. Forget the cliche two left feet, when I get going I have at least six or seven of them. I do appreciate good music, though, and so the sensual sound of salsa is soothing my shopping experience.

I like this town. There is so often something going on. Today, there is a group of people dancing. Professionals, dancing with each other. The men are in black from head to toe, their shirts open to reveal golden cinnamon skin below. The ladies costumes are bright and swirling, fringes and layering around the short skirts add movement as they sway and shake their hips. Red, yellow, white and blue dresses swirl to the sexy salsa beat.

I sit on the wall outside the hardware shop and listen. I can only catch glimpses of the dancing as the crowd shifts and people move on, but I can feel the beat of the music slipping and sliding all through my body. I slowly swig from a bottle of water and am aware of the stretch of my neck and the way I swallow. I think of sex, of being on my knees; a cock between my lips, spurting thick cream down the back of my elongated, begging throat.

I shake my head as I drain the last drop and stand to place the bottle in a bin. As I move, my body zings. My nipples are hard and brushing against the cotton of my bra, my legs wobble as after orgasm and my heart is thump, thump, thumping like a rabbit in heat. The music is powerful, the beat taking me over. I’m single, happily single. I don’t obsess about sex, but right now I’d fuck right here, any man, any woman just to get some release.

I can’t take it anymore and so I spin away from the music, concentrating on the domestic nature of my trip. I need to go to the butchers and I need a new bulb for the living room light.

I feel a tap on my shoulder, and I look. A man dressed in black grabs the crook of my arm with one hand and gesticulates to the other dancing bodies in the middle of the square. I shake my head, my cheeks exploding with color and I try to pull away, but his grip is tight, the thick brown fingers digging into my flesh.

“Come,” he whispers in my ear. “Come dance with me. It will be beautiful.” There is a tinge to his voice, a hint of an accent which enhances the low bass timbre of his words.

“No, no!” I shake my head, my voice high pitched and squeaky. “I can’t dance.” I feel pearls of sweat dripping down my back. The intensity of the sun heats my flesh to a burning point and my heart strains to be away from this man.

My mistake is in looking into his eyes. They are dark, black like treacle, with soft golden flecks which dance to the salsa beat. I cannot fight against him any longer. I am meek. I walk with him and the crowd parts. Suddenly I am contained within a semi-circle of space, other dancers and poor unsuspecting shoppers surrounding me.

I balk, the color running from my face, the fear of public humiliation forcing me to take action, to pull away. He is strong and as I strain away from him he pulls me in hard against his body as if we are already dancing.

“I CAN’T dance.” I scream it to his face, the fear pulsing through me, making me behave unlike my usual timid self.

“You can.” He wraps his other arm around my waist. “Just listen to the music.”

I wonder for a moment if I should scream and cry out for help, but the words will not fall from my mouth. The feel of him so close is intoxicating, the sound so close to the band is overwhelming. The sweet melodies shake through my system, making my hips shiver in unconscious response.

“Yes, that’s it.” His lips are by my ear. I can almost feel them caressing my skin. “You are so sexy, so sensual. Let the music guide you.”

His hand strokes the base of my back and I feel warmth spread through me. My arms hang loosely at my sides, but as he moves me back and forward I lose balance and reach out. One hand lands on his hip, the other finds itself clasped within the strong confines of my dance partner’s fingers.

Forward and back he steps and I jerk in response until I establish the same rhythm. I smile at him as I let the music guide my feet.

“See?” His lips are there, just by my ear again, close to my neck. “You can dance.” His lips brush gently against my cheek; I bite back a moan, unsure if it’s intentional; I want to feel those thick, confident lips pressed against me firmly, long to taste them, feel them against my own.

As the music surrounds me, my body moves with it; sinuously, sensually, sexily. The feelings from before are heightened by the movement of my body in proximity to his. His body is hard and unyielding. It rubs against my breasts, my legs, my groin. He’s hard and ready for action from the feel of it. The dance is like fast-paced sex. Raw, wild and frenzied, as if I am being fucked fully-clothed.

It’s stopped. I feel my body heaving in shock. I drown in disappointment as his body pulls away from mine. The gathered crowd is clapping and his hand is back in the small of my back, pushing me forward in an awkward bow. He escorts me away from the other dancers as they break into a new, more professional routine.

“Well, er, thanks,” I mumble, glancing briefly into his intense stare. His smile is intoxicating, so I drop my head and try my best to walk away, but he’s still holding on to me. As I move away he pulls me back, like an intricate dance move and I end up wrapped in his arms. I find him kissing me.

How can I resist? A little voice somewhere in the very back corner of my mind mutters something about being in public, about this being a stranger. But his lips on mine are sending me an even stronger message and it’s heading straight between my legs.

I don’t protest when he pushes me back, I don’t protest when his hands run down to my hips, then up and under my t-shirt. I try to protest as his fingers sneak into my bra, but his kiss smothers me, his tongue slips into my mouth as his fingers brush my nipples and I cannot find my voice.

The cups are pushed under my breasts, propping them up and leaving them exposed. His fingers tease and taunt the tiny nubs before one trails down my stomach and slips under the waistband of my skirt. The little voice is there again, reminding me that the cool breeze I can feel on my exposed tummy is not coming in through an open window. I know I’m in public and I know I should stop, but my body is beyond caring.

I’ve always been the sensible sort. I was married to a man who liked my sensible side but shunned my sexual side. It hurt me when he left, went off with a big-boobed bimbo who obviously wasn’t speaking to his sensible side at all. Now I feel like I’m re-discovering the sensuality held in check for so damn long. It’s like this guy, this guy whose name I don’t even know, has the key, and he’s unlocking my lust.

My skirt is hitching higher and higher, yet his lips have not once left mine. This guy is a seasoned seducer. I flush with embarrassment when I realize he’s going to discover I’m knickerless under the long, sunshine skirt. He doesn’t seem to mind. His fingers graze my naked mound and a groan vibrates from his mouth to mine and straight to my exposed pussy. He runs a thick finger down the slit and picks up a glaze of my moisture which he brings to his lips, pulling them apart from mine for a moment. He savours the taste of me, staring deep into my eyes.

I am a goner. That stare has pierced me with nails and fastened me to the wall. My body seems to have frozen and as I hear his zipper, I wait for the inevitable, my heart thumping and my ears listening to the dull bang of shoes passing by the end of the passageway.

He wastes no time, his cock is freed and lodged between my pussy lips. He pushes hard, lifting my feet off the floor as his cock fills me. His hands grab beneath my buttocks and I cross my legs behind him. I don’t know how he’s holding me up. I’m no waif, but his pounding cock is all I can feel, all that is keeping me in the air.

The wall biting into my back hurts, but that only seems to make the sensations in my cunt all the more pleasurable. I can’t help but let out grunts and groans of ecstasy, and I open my eyes briefly when I remember just how close to the crowds we really are. Luckily, no one is paying any attention to what is happening down a dank, dark alleyway as the Salsa music has started up again. I feel his hips falling in with the sensual beat of it.

His cock is stretching me, filling me and driving me wild. I close my eyes and surrender to the beat, arms and my legs wrapped around him, holding him tight as an orgasm builds. I’ve never felt an orgasm at the hands of another and this feels so damn good. I’m not in control. I’m just letting it happen to me. It feels so fucking good. I let out a yelp and his lips thud down on mine.

“Shhh,” He hisses then kisses me as my clit throbs, sending ecstatic pulses through my cunt and upwards ’til the sensation explodes all the way through me, from my toes to my skull.

I scream into his mouth, his lips muffling the sound as he grunts back, driving his shaft deep into me and leaving it lodged there, throbbing and pumping its pleasure into me.

My legs drop as his hands move from my buttocks. His cock slips out of me and he tucks it away as my skirt drops back down, tickling my legs. I press my breasts back in to the confines of my bra then I run my fingers through my hair, smoothing it down.

“Thank you.” I smile, leaning in to kiss him this time. He blushes, smiles, then returns the kiss.

“My pleasure,” he rasps. “I knew you could dance from the moment I saw you. Oh yes, you can dance.”

He runs to the end of the alley and as he bursts out into the sunshine an arm captures him and pulls him off towards the other salsa dancers. I continue with my shopping trip, a smile on my lips. It is true what they say; giving way to the beat is truly freeing. I wonder if there is anywhere locally giving Salsa lessons?

I hope you enjoyed the story and hope to see you over at victoriablisse.co.uk soon. I am currently running a competition to give away a copy of Getting Hitched, my sensual and sexy Wedding sensation so please pop over and comment to win yourself a copy!

http://www.victoriablisse.co.uk/blog/ive-got-wedding-fever/

You can also find me on facebook and twitter just search for victoriablisse!

Thanks for having me, Lindsay!

Titan's Jewel, Part Nine (5/4/11)

Hey, folks! Back again with another Silver Flash Fiction. This installment of Titan's Jewel was fun to write, and I was so into it, when my son came bursting into the room I actually jumped. lol

Hope you enjoy it! Be sure and check out the other great stories. Links at the bottom of the post.

*LANGUAGE* (mild)

When their feet hit the ground, Shiloh could have fallen to her knees and worshiped the dirt gods. In fact, she would have had Brett’s secure grip not been around her waist.

“You okay?” he asked, the quiet concern in his voice calming her.

“Yeah,” she managed. “I just, ah…have a minor issue with heights is all.” Swallowing, she glanced up at the opening they’d dropped from. “More specifically, careening to my death from high in the sky.”

Brett chuckled as he fumbled with the knots around her waist. “Well, you’re not going anywhere while I have you.” His light fingers brushed a section of skin that had been exposed by her sliding shirt, sending a shiver across her. “Sorry about that,” he murmured, concentrating on his knot, secure enough to rival the most skilled Boy scout.

“That’s okay,” Shiloh replied, fighting back the urge to run a hand across his short cropped hair. “So, I was just wondering. Now that we’re down here, how are we going to get back up?”

Brett smiled as he stood, the ropes falling away from both of them. “We’ll worry about that when the time comes.”

“Oh.” She took the flashlight he handed her and flipped it on, swinging it around the cavernous space. A high ceiling was above them, lined with wooden scaffolding, half rotted. Two tunnels split off in front of them, both with rail tracks leading into the dark abyss.

“That’s neat,” Brett commented. “I didn’t know they did mine work here.”

“Judging by the scaffolding work, it was done a long time ago.” Shiloh jumped when something ran across her foot. Her flashlight followed a tail into a crevice with a shudder. “Oh, Jesus. Rats.”

“Did you expect unicorns and fairies?”

Sticking her tongue out at Brett’s back, she hustled to keep up with him as he moved towards the tunnels. “Damn it,” she whispered.

“What now?”

“I have to pee.”

Brett looked over his shoulder with a smirk. “Didn’t I tell you to go before we tied up?”

“Shut up. What the hell am I supposed to do?” The urge was overwhelming.

“Go in the corner over there.” His flashlight illuminated a corner near a third, and previously unnoticed, tunnel.

“With you standing here?” Disgusted, Shiloh shook her head.

“Just pretend I’m not here,” Brett replied, turning and crossing his arms over his chest.

Cursing under her breath, Shiloh took her flashlight and went as far into the corner as she could. She put the flashlight on the ground facing the tunnel while she did her business. Pulling her pants back up, she glanced at the dark hall.

When the man in the tunnel ducked out of sight, Shiloh fell backwards shrieking. Brett pivoted and rushed towards her, catching her just before she hit the hard ground. “Holy shit!” she exclaimed, trying to climb up Brett’s body to gain ground. “There was a – he was – watching me… Holy shit.”

“Shiloh,” Brett said forcefully, grabbing her around the waist. “Calm down. What happened?”

Her hands were shaking something fierce and she tried to calm her breathing, keeping an eagle eye on the tunnel. “I was…I was in the corner and I stood up and then I looked at the tunnel and there was a guy watching me.” Shivering, Shiloh didn’t object when Brett pulled her against him. “He was watching me.”

“Okay,” he whispered. “Let me go check it out.”

Shiloh didn’t let him go far before she was latched onto his shirt, peeking around his arm with wide eyes. The flashlight sat exactly where she’d left it, the beam shining down the tunnel to illuminate a single dark corner.

“Hello? Anyone there?” Brett’s voice echoed through the cavern. He waited a beat and then looked over his shoulder. “See?”

“Shiloh…” The whisper blew in on a light breeze just as Shiloh opened her mouth to respond. It reflected off the walls, coming at her from all directions until she was surrounded.

Eyes wide with terror, Shiloh backed away from Brett. “Shiloh?” Brett asked tentatively.

Behind him, a man’s face appeared in the flashlight beam. Crawling low to the floor with his talon like fingers, face twisted grotesquely in the dim light, he was coming straight for her.

~End~

The other great flashers:

Julie Hayes (m/m)
http://julielynnhayes.blogspot.com

L. M. Brown (m/m)
http://lmbrownauthor.blogspot.com/

Lily Sawyer (m/m)
http://lilysawyerbooks.blogspot.com/

Nicole Dennis (m/m)
http://www.nicoledennis.co.cc/captain-of-the-

manor/

Sui Lynn (m/m)
http://suidlynn.blogspot.com/

RJ Scott (m/m)
www.rjscott.co.uk

Victoria Blisse (m/f)
http://www.victoriablisse.co.uk

Pender Mackie (m/m)
http://pendermackie.blogspot.com

Heather Lin (m/f)
http://heatherlin88.blogspot.com/

Ryssa Edwards (m/m)
http://ryssaedwards.blogspot.com/

Six Sentence Sunday

Onward with Sam:

Wiping the counter absentmindedly, I replied, “Shadow? That’s a nickname, a moniker, not a name.”

“Well, that’s what I’m called. Get used to it,” he said softly as he stood. He pulled my arm until we nose to nose and our breaths mingled. “You will be screaming it one night.”

And that concludes this scene with Sam and Shadow. Due to a block/edits/life, I've had to take a break with their story, but they're knocking again. ;)

Guest Blogger Jeremy Trimble: Monsters Redefined

Hi, there, everybody! Please help me welcome Jeremy Trimble, who's here today discussing monsters redefined:

A key ingredient to every new fantasy novel is the redefinition of monsters and myth. Pretty much every successful work of fantasy does this. We have these ideas about wizards, vampires, werewolves, dragons, and they are always cliché. A skilled writer takes these mothers and myths, ideas their readers already know, and redefine them.

Let’s start off with wizards. As a little kid, I never really got into magic. Don’t get me wrong; I loved medieval combat, but it always came down to swords, knights, bows and arrows, castles, and maybe the occasional battering ram. Wizards, witches, and dragons never became very interesting.

Wizards were trite. Witches were super lame. They either wore pointy hats and had long beards or were evil, ugly women who flew around on broomsticks. Seriously, how cool could a villain be if they rode broomsticks? Wizards weren’t much better. The only examples I had to go on were Merlin, a super old dude who didn’t seem to do much magic aside from jamming a sword into a rock, and the Wizard of Oz who distinctly didn’t have any superpowers.

What does that leave for a kid who demanded a degree of seriousness? Nothing. Magic couldn’t work.

Then came J.K. Rowling and Harry Potter. Even though she wrote children’s books (the first titles in her series anyway), she made magic awesome. She made it epic. Yes, witches still wore pointy hats, but they worked with plants whose screams could kill. Yes, they rode on broomsticks, but she made them awesome.

Whenever I watch a Harry Potter movie now, I always lament how little time they spend on these witches and wizards as they ride their broomsticks. She made it cool. She made broomsticks fast, agile, and epic. Instead of having an old school witch die when someone spills some water on her, we see them throw spells at one another while cutting across the sky. So much cooler.

Wizards aren’t the only traditional piece of fantasy to get redefined.

Consider vampires. A cliché in vampire stories is now for the characters to talk about pop culture and how everyone else got it wrong. Writers are stuck and they do sorta have to make this point. Vampires, probably more than any other creature, have been completely redefined like nothing else.

Originally, vampire stories were folklore. They were probably tales designed to warn travelers against wandering outside or to scare little kids into going to bed on time. Either way, they were vicious, animals, supernatural horrors which the mind could never comprehend.

Then we get Bram Stoker and his Dracula. He was a shape shifter, a monster who lived in a castle with his various demons and horrors. He was also surprisingly weak. As I understand it, he was vulnerable to sunlight, stakes, and couldn’t cross moving water. Many of the traditions and superstitions regarding vampires applied to Stoker’s Dracula.

Later on, we got lots of vampire movies, most of which look really goofy now. I think of Nosferatu. Sure, it looked scary back in the day, but grainy black-and-white just can’t be scary. If it can’t be scary, it can’t be cool.

Anne Rice came along and gave us Interview with a Vampire. This piece had a vampire speak. It made him human. It made him awesome because we got to see an immortal. We watched characters move across time, through the centuries, and wondered what vampirism would actually mean. This was very different from the brutality Stoker created.

A couple more years and we get Joss Whedon’s Buffy the Vampire Slayer. He made vampires a lot less awesome. With a couple exceptions, vampires got slaughtered left and right. They became minions, one-hit kills to make the main character look really cool. Whedon did something else though.

He made vampires something that could be loved. Angel appeared as a romantic figure, a vampire with a soul who falls in love with a human. Another couple years go by and we get Twilight.

Like them or hate them, Stephenie Myer’s vampires are very, very different from what readers once expected. For one, they twinkle. The implication seems to be that vampires’ skin is embedded with diamonds, giving them greater protection. Sure, I’ve met lots of people who hate this idea, yet it does explain their durability. The movies went even farther with this concept. Whenever a vampire is hurt or damaged, his skin cracks as if he were made of stone.

Writers can take a magical or sci-fi archetype and redefine it however they want. A good challenge for any writer working in these genres is to take what’s old and reuse it. Redefine it to make it different, unique, something familiar and yet surprising all at the same time.

Titan's Jewel, Part Eight (4/27/11)

It's that time of week again! Can you believe it? The eighth installment of Titan's Jewel. :) This week, we'll continue on from the last point, naturally. Don't forget to check out the other great flashers at the end of the post!

Part Eight:

Watching her exacerbated movements, Brett wondered if Shiloh wasn’t losing her mind. Ever since the incident in the old house the week before, she hadn’t been her usual, spunky self.

Tom wasn’t helping any, insisting after the storm subsided that he and Brett recover the time capsule. Only when they got back to the house, the damn thing was gone.

The whole box disappeared as if it had never existed. Tom was floored, searching the house, the grounds, the gaping hole they’d left in the ground. “Are you positive this is the house?” he asked. Brett couldn’t even find the words to respond as he stared at the line of clean floor where it had obviously been drug away, only to vanish into thin air at the base of the stairs.

All in all, he wondered if Shiloh’s mental episode was not, in fact, based in reality.

But because they had all, as he reminded her, signed a contract they kept at it. Toiling tirelessly through rain and clouds, and even one gloriously sunny day, the three worked their way to a spot on the outskirts of the city.

Tom directed Shiloh to a spot, and that’s exactly where she lowered the excavator’s teeth, dragging up grass, dirt, and rocks. Brett held up a hand, spotting something in the hole just before the dirt could collapse around it. “Did you see that?” he said, looking at Tom. The old man shook his head as Shiloh jumped down from her machine and walked over. “Hey, Shiloh, come here and help me, will you?”

She warily took the shovel offered. “We’re not unearthing another skeleton, are we?”

“Nah. I think there’s a door or something here.” Brett started digging, pausing when he noticed he was working alone. “Uh, Shiloh?”

“Didn’t we learn our lesson the last time?” When she stared at him with those wide eyes, Brett was obliged to throw in the towel.

But they had a job to do. “What did I tell you? Am I going to let anything get you?” Shaking her head, she slid into the hole, using her hand as leverage against the slippery mud to stop her descent. Brett had to hand it to her; for a former VP of a financial accounting firm, and a priss, he was sure, she wasn’t afraid to get dirty.

A sheen of sweat broke across his brow as they shifted the dirt to reveal a trap door. A rusted handle seemed to be inviting Brett to lift it. Bracing his feet, he gave a tug and after an effort the door gave way with a loud bang. Glancing over his shoulder with a victorious smile, he couldn’t help but chuckle when Shiloh made a concerted effort to tear her eyes away from his arms. “Tom! Got a flashlight?”

In his excitement, the older man careened into the pit. His foot caught on a rock and he was airborne, straight for the open trap door. Brett lunged forward to catch him, just managing to grip Tom’s shirt before he plummeted into the dark abyss below them.

Releasing a shaking breath, Shiloh grabbed Tom’s arm and helped him to a safe perch on the edge of the hole. Tom smiled feebly and handed Brett the flashlight, his face stark white. “Here you go.”

Cursing under her breath, Shiloh checked him over for any cuts or abrasions. “Give me a heart attack, why don’t you. Christ Almighty, Tom. Could have fallen in there,” she muttered, “and that thing could be a hundred feet down for all we know.” She straightened Tom’s sleeves and brushed loose dirt off his shirt while Brett snickered under his hand. “Don’t ever, ever, ever scare me like that.”

Sobering when she turned to face him, Brett angled the flashlight down the pit. A wooden ladder hung from the wall, descending into the darkness so deep even the flashlight beam wouldn’t reach all the way to the bottom. He grabbed a rock and dropped it, waiting for the impact. When it finally hit, he guessed the bottom might have been about a hundred feet down. “I think she’s right, Tom. Seems to be about a hundred feet, give or take.”

“Give or take what?” Shiloh asked, staring at him with a blank expression.

Blinking, Brett replied, “What do you mean?”

“You said give or take. Give or take what? Ten feet? Twenty? Thirty?”

“I, ah…I don’t know exactly.” He shrugged as she walked over, wondering what difference an extra thirty feet made to a hundred.

Shiloh bent at the waist to peek over the edge, drawing back quickly. Oh, Brett thought. Thirty feet makes a lot of difference to someone afraid of heights. “I suppose you want to climb down that rotted ladder.”

Laughing, Brett turned her chin towards the excavator. “No. We’re going to repel down, using the machine as our ground.”

Shiloh nodded. “Finally you have a good plan. So, where’s the rope?”

“In the back of the excavator. Want to go with me?” Standing, he brushed dirt off his knees.

“If you think I’m staying up here alone, you’ve got another thing coming.”

Smiling, Brett elbowed her lightly. “You’ve got Tom.”

“Like I said. Let’s do this.”

Fifteen minutes later, Brett had triple checked their setup and stocked his backpack with water and a few snacks. He was helping Shiloh get her ropes set up when Tom approached. “You know what,” he said nervously, “this isn’t worth it.”

Pausing, Brett glanced over his shoulder. “Excuse me? If we find the diamond we can get the hell out of here.”

Tom didn’t look convinced, but he said nothing else as Brett locked an arm around Shiloh’s waist and lowered them into the darkness. “Remember, Tom. Just drop a flare if anything is happening. We’ll keep an eye out.” Glancing at Shiloh, he nodded. “Ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” With a kick, they were on their way into the darkness.

~End~

And here's the other flashers:

• Heather Lin (m/f)
• Julie Hayes (m/m)
• L. M. Brown (m/m)
• Lily Sawyer (m/m)
• Nicole Dennis (m/m)
• Pia Valeno (m/m)
• RJ Scott (m/m)
• Sui Lynn (m/m)
• Ryssa Edwards (m/m)

Six Sentence Sunday

Sam goes on:

"You're always with the gang no matter how far apart you are." I met his gaze; he was handsome, sure, and practically oozed sexuality and charisma, but I'd be damned if he'd be luring me anywhere.

"How come you never say my name?"

"I don't know your name."

"You've heard it." A devilish smile played at his lips.

Please Welcome Lee Ann Sontheimer Murphy!

Here she is! Thanks for dropping by, Lee Ann!

In less than a year I’ve made the transition from freelance writer and local newspaper columnist to an author. With two releases currently out in the world and more lined up in queue, I am not anonymous in the small town where I live. Since I’ve written columns for more than one local paper over a several year period, I am well-adjusted to the occasional stranger who steps up to me in the supermarket to ask if I am “the lady that writes for the paper”.

Because of that I’ve long made an effort to make sure I am reasonably neat and presentable when I head out to run errands or do some shopping. I learned that lesson the hard way when I went to Lowe’s for more plants on spring in old cut off denim shorts, grubby from crawling around the yard, sunburned, and hair in an unflattering ponytail – and saw more people that I do in an average week. Now I do put on a little make-up and wear neat, clean clothing. I may be dressed in my favorite jeans and t-shirt but by gosh, they will be without rips or dirt these days.

Since my longer fiction, unlike most of my short fiction, is romance of one flavor or another, I decided to let my hair down, literally for a local author fair last weekend. My hair is both long and thick, falling down to the middle of my back. Most of the time I wear it swept up on top of my head, either caught in a hair comb or skewered in place with giant hair pins like the ones my Granny used. I do it for practicality – hard to do house work, garden, or even write if my long abundant locks are flowing in every direction.

At the author fair however I thought since I’m a romance author maybe I shouldn’t appear looking like a 19^th century school teacher with my hair up in a tight knot. So I took more time with my hair than I have since my kids were born.
Twins followed by a single son don’t leave a mom much time for hair styling. I have a lot of natural curl in my hair so I dried it so that it would curl and let it hang.

People I have known for years didn’t recognize me at first at the event and when the compliments began coming my way, I decided that I should let my hair down, literally, more often. By the end of the day, as we dined at my favorite restaurant, our server asked me if I was “the lady who makes books”. I admitted that I was, gave her a book, and took away more compliments. Being told that I looked prettier with my hair down is satisfying enough; reading the same message in a few male eyes is heady stuff.

So now, besides slapping on at least basic make-up, I take a little more trouble with my hair and wardrobe. I suppose the image of an author must be maintained.

These days, I tend to want to pinch my own wrist on occasion since in less than twelve months, I have two novels out (WOLFE’S LADY and LOVE TATTOO from Evernight Publishing), a sequel to LOVE TATTOO coming in June, LOVE SCARS, and six other novels spread between July 2011 and May 2012. I now write for four e-presses, Evernight Publishing, Champagne Books, Rebel Ink Press, and as of last week, Astraea Press. Living the dream as an author is an awesome experience but it requires many hours of hard work and now I’ve learned that appearance is important too!

Here's the link to Lee Ann's Amazon page, and her blog!

Titan's Jewel, Part Seven (4/20/11)

Howdy-do! It's time for another installment of Titan's Jewel, part of the Silver Flash Fiction team. This week is special, because if you participate in our scavenger hunt, you have a chance to win lots of great prizes!

Without further delay, here's the story. Please check after the post for details on the giveaway, as well as links to the other flashers for the week!

*LANGUAGE*

Part Seven:

“Hide in the oven?” The disbelief filling Brett’s voice made Shiloh think he wasn’t taking her seriously, even as a faint shuffling floated down the staircase towards them from one of the rooms upstairs.

“Do you have a better idea?” His muscles shifted under her hands as he shrugged and Shiloh made a concerted effort to loosen her grip. Not again, she thought. I won’t be hurt again.

Brett sighed before stepping back from the stairs. “Okay, so what are we going to do? Just stand around down here and let whatever’s up there scare us every time it -”

Shiloh gave a little shriek and leaped forward when a chair flew across the upper landing. Her whole body was trembling with fear, and he turned her away from the staircase, looking up the stairs again with narrowed eyes. “What the hell is up there?”

“I don’t – I don’t…” Shiloh’s voice shook with the effort to bring her breathing back under control. When another loud bang echoed through the space, she pulled closer to him, gripping his shirt in her fists and turning her face into his chest.

Running a hand across her hair in an effort to console her, he laid his head against hers. “It’s okay, Shiloh,” he said. “I’m right here with you.”

A full five minutes passed before Shiloh was brave enough to lift her head from the safety of her stronger counterpart and look up at him. “So, do you believe in ghosts now?”

He grinned. “I never said I didn’t.” He smoothed a piece of hair away from her face. “Are you going upstairs with me now?”

Shiloh blanched. “Are you kidding me?” Pushing off his chest, she stepped back. “You’re seriously still going up there?”

“Yes. I need to go investigate and make sure some squatter isn’t up there. You coming up, or would you rather wait down here?” Brett cocked his head to the side, waiting for her response.

Jesus Christ. The guy was crazy. That’s all there was to it. His bravado was going to get him killed by some angry ghost waiting upstairs to chop off his head. Or worse, inhabit his body and kill Shiloh. She swallowed. “I just…I don’t see the point in going up to check this out, Brett. I mean, look. Hello!” she called up the stairs, waiting a beat for a sound. “See? Nothing.”

Brett wasn’t convinced. “Are you coming upstairs or not?”

After a moment of indecision, Shiloh scuttled after him towards the stairs. She glanced over her shoulder as thunder clapped and ran square into his back with a grunt. “The hell you stopping for?”

“I’m trying to listen if you’ll quiet down.” Sticking her tongue out at his back, she waited. “Okay,” he said. “Let’s go.”

The stairs creaked under their feet, each flash of lightning from outside illuminating the ominous corners of the upper landing. Shiloh swallowed as she crested the stairs on Brett’s heels. Four doors greeted them: three bedrooms and one bathroom. The chair lay, crippled and broken, against the far wall.

Shiloh blindly reached out and grabbed for Brett’s hand. He glanced down at her fingers before giving them a squeeze and leading her forward. Terror and adrenaline surged through her, enhancing her senses. Every creak made her jump; every shadow was someone reaching for her.

Her breaths came in short spurts as they entered the first room. The air suffocated her with its thick hands and Shiloh couldn’t help but look over her shoulder, expecting to see a foreboding person staring at her. “I don’t like this room, Brett.”

“Your hands just got so cold,” he replied.

“Well, I -” She didn’t expect the cold chill to wash down her back, making her shiver and forcing goose bumps to erupt down her skin. And she sure as hell didn’t expect the slight shift in her hair.

“Shiloh,” said a faint whisper.

“Holy fuck,” she yelled, jolting forward while Brett watched her with wide eyes. “Holy – Oh, my god. Did you hear that? Did you – Oh, my god.” She frantically brushed at her hair, trying to get the crawling feeling out of the strands. “Damn it, I’m out of here.”

Shiloh bolted down the stairs, taking the steps three at a time until she burst out of the front door into the pelting rain. Brett grabbed her arm and she snapped back against him. “What the hell, Shiloh?” he yelled over the roaring winds.

“It said my name.”

He searched her face for a moment, unsure of whether to believe her. “Okay. Well, we have to get out of this weather.” He pointed to the excavator, the closest shelter that wasn’t part of the abandoned landscape. “Let’s go.”

Bracing against the wind and driving rain, they climbed into the cab. Hail pinged off the cold metal of the machine, creating a loud echo inside. Shiloh backed against a door, shivering. “What happened in there?” Brett gave up on wringing out his shirt and stripped it off in the hopes dry skin would be warmer than his wet shirt.

Shiloh tried to avoid staring at his well toned torso. “There was something in the house. It said my name.”

“Said your name.”

“That’s what I said,” she snapped, looking over at him finally. He wasn’t mocking or laughing; his expression was curious.

“Maybe it wants to take you out.” A fleeting grin crossed his features, quickly suppressed at her scathing glare.

“Wouldn’t that be romantic?” Shiloh rolled her eyes. “I want to go home.”

“Oh no you don’t. You signed a contract.” Brett watched a muscle flex in her jaw, knowing full well the former VP of a financial firm would never renege on a contract. “We’re going to find that diamond, come hell or high water.”

“But if -”

“If nothing. Nothing’s going to get you so long as I’m here.” He tilted her chin up as she looked down. “I promise.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

~End~

Here's the other flashers for the week. Don't forget to drop by theirs, too:

Julie Hayes M/M

Heather Lin M/F

LM Brown M/M

Victoria Blisse M/F

Sui Lynn M/M

Lily Sawyer M/M

Ryssa Edwards

Nicole Dennis

Pender Mackie

Life Happens!

Hi! Holy crap, what a whirlwind year it's been so far, eh?

I'm happy to say that The Life And Times of Delila is doing well, and my next one, What I've Learned, will be out July 31st. Currently, I'm shopping another one (a horror piece - ooooh), and revising another, and writing another. Oh, and I'll be getting edits for Abby soon, too.

*phew* :)

Hey, check this out, too. A contest:

Hot free fiction and an incredible prize package?

Must be the Silver Flashers! Every Wednesday, a piece of flash fiction is posted on the blogs of several Silver Publishing authors. It's fun, free, and more often than not a pretty steamy experience. ;) This week, we're hosting a scavenger hunt and we're hoping you'll join us. Visit each of the blogs (listed below) between Wednesday, April 20th and the end of the hunt on Tuesday, April 26th, send a list of the authors with at least one of their main characters to seeheatherwrite@hotmail.com, and you'll be entered to win this awesome prize package:

One travel bottle of Bath & Bodyworks Sensual Amber bodywash and Sensual Amber lotion from Heather Lin
One bookthong from Lindsay Klug
One ebook from RJ Scott
One ebook from Lily Sawyer
One ebook from Pender Mackie
One ebook from Julie Hayes
One ebook from LM Brown

That's right. One lucky hunter will win ALL of these items, generously donated by the Silver Flashers. The drawing will take place on Thursday, April 28th and will be posted by midnight on Friday, April 29th.

So, lots of goodies, lots of happenings, lots of lots. Throw a cross country move in there this summer and several thousand other day to day necessities, and this is going to be a busy few months. See you Wednesday for another installment of Titan's Jewel!

Six Sentence Sunday

Continuing on with Sam's story:

"You're right, of course." He took another long drink and I watched his Adam's apple flex taking the liquid down. "I came back to see you."

A drop of sweat beaded on the bottle and ran down the side to meet Shadow's hand. "I'm not sure where the confusion is, but I don't run with biker gangs."

In the fluorescent light of the bar his eyes were an unnatural shade of orange instead of the warm brown they should have been. "I'm not with the gang right now, am I?

Please Welcome Nicki Markus!

Hello, all! Nicki J. Markus is here with me today. Please give her a big round of applause. Thanks for dropping by!

Please tell the readers a little about yourself:

I was born in the UK in 1982, but moved to Australia in 2007 to be with my Australian fiancé. I love reading and writing and also languages. I adore anything in the cultural sphere really – theatre, cinema, art, photography…I’m the expressive type!

How about your latest release?

My latest release is the second in a four part mini-series called Time Keepers. Each part is short story length and they are being released one per month to continue the story. The remaining two parts are out in May and June. It is a paranormal story with a blend of romance and adventure and a hint of sci-fi. You can read an excerpt of part 1 below and here are the blurbs for the first two parts.

Time Keepers - Part One - Running Blind

"It seems like any ordinary day as Nick waits for the train, but then a chance encounter with a young woman turns his world upside down. What is it that she is running from and will helping her jeopardise his own secret, making him a target too?"

Time Keepers - Part Two - The Beast Within

"With Nick’s secret now exposed, he and Ellie must run for their lives, pursued by the Governor and his Time Keepers. Will they be able to stay hidden or is their time nearly up?"

Both these titles are available from Amazon, OmniLit, Smashwords and other sellers. Or you can hop across to my website/blog and click on the “my books” tab for direct links. (http://www.nickijmarkus.com)

Care to share a bit about any of your characters?

Nick and Ellie are both outcasts in their own way and they both have secrets, but they will have to work together if they want to defeat the Time Keepers

What was your primary inspiration for this book?

In think I had been watching Dark Angel that day and was thinking of governments wanting to control these gifted children. It made me wonder what would happen if they could get their hands on other supernatural beings.

Any advice for aspiring writers?

It’s a bit corny but – don’t give up. If it’s want you want to do then go for it. Creative writing courses can be useful to see what level you are at, but mostly I’d say keep writing and improving through experience.

If you could be one animal, person, or at a place for a day what/who/where would it be?

I’d be in Prague – my favourite city!

Five random facts about you:

1) I speak four foreign languages – two fluently

2) I’m getting married this year!

3) I love cats

4) I can’t resist the lure of NetGalley at present

5) I sing and play flute and piano

Are you working on any new releases later this year?

Obviously the remaining two parts of Time Keepers are out soon from Wicked Nights Publishing. I also just signed a contract with Silver Publishing for my vampire paranormal romance called Day-Walker. That is tentatively scheduled for release in September at the moment. Right now I am working on a thriller short/novella that I hope to submit to the publisher in the next couple of months.

Anything else you’d like to say?

Thanks to everyone who has supported my writing and bought my books so far – I really appreciate it!

Contact info (Facebook, Twitter, website, blog):

My website/blog: http://www.nickijmarkus.com

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/NickiJMarkus

Excerpt:

Time Keepers – Part 1 – Running Blind

Say No To Fur!!

The poster caught his eye as he stood on the muggy station platform, waiting for the south-bound Northern Line tube. Nick frowned, tilting his head slightly and staring at it. The hologram image of the wolf’s head hovered at the surface in seeming innocence, tinges of reds and greens just visible behind its grey fur and a benign look in its yellow eyes as it watched the passerby. Then a woman stepped a little too close. The wolf’s head jumped out from the poster, eyes bloodshot and jaws open wide, revealing glistening pointed teeth that dripped with saliva and snapped viciously at her. The woman shrieked and jumped back in fright, dropping her handbag as the wolf retreated once more into its poster.

Nick bent down and retrieved the worn leather bag, holding it out to her. He could hear her heart pounding in her chest and he waited patiently while she took a moment to compose herself. Finally her watery grey eyes focused on him and she reached out a gnarled, wrinkled hand to reclaim her possessions.

“Thank you, young man.” She carefully eased the handles of the bag back over her emaciated arm. “It shouldn’t be allowed.”

“No, the tube station really isn’t the place for posters like that,” he agreed with her readily, casting a wary glance at the wall where the wolf still hovered, looking peaceable once more.

“No, not the poster, young man; I mean these werewolves – and the vampires too. As if there isn’t already enough wrong in the world without such evil creatures roaming around free. The sooner the government stamps them out the better.”
A sudden rush of humid air, adding more heat to the already stifling atmosphere, and the approach of two blazing yet flickering lights from the depths of the tunnel, announced the arrival of the tube. The woman waddled off further down the platform and Nick was left alone - for a moment anyway. As the train pulled in people jostled behind him, bodies pressing up against him, invading his personal space and making him uncomfortable, as everyone fought to be first to board the train.

The doors squeaked their way open and the inane high pitched beeping sound they produced rang in his ears, making him flinch. He wasn’t in the mood for pushing and shoving so he let the crowds brush past him, going with the flow as he was knocked from side to side by their urgency. He waited until he was the last one on the platform before carefully and sedately stepping onto the train.

The carriage was packed full, people crammed in like sardines, and there was nowhere else to move to so he remained just inside the doorway. He reached up towards the handrail, the distance no difficulty for his long arm. As he breathed in, he couldn’t help but screw his nose up at the smell of urine and stale sweat that permeated the carriage. Why do I travel by tube? He glanced round at his fellow passengers; all studiously avoided meeting his eyes, heads down, trying to blend in and escape notice. And why wouldn’t they when the government could nab you for just about anything these days?

A repeat of the annoying beeping announced that the train was about to depart. Nick tightened his grip on the handrail in anticipation of the jerky and uncomfortable journey ahead. A sudden movement caught his eye and he glanced back at the platform. There was a young girl flying down the stairs. She was moving so fast that her tiny, bare feet hardly touched the floor as she used the stair rail to propel her into a sharp turn, dashing towards the train and heading straight for the door of his carriage. He saw the doors start to inch themselves closed and he instinctively reached out, gripping one tightly with both hands, forcing it to remain open as the girl shot through the gap and onto the train.

Titan's Jewel, Part Six (4/13/11)

Well, it's that time of the week again! The next installment of Titan's Jewel is all ready to go. There were two prompts this week:

"What's that noise?"

OR

"Um...you might want to take the wrapper off first."

As hard as I tried, I could only incorporate one. LOL, hope you enjoy! Here we go, and don't forget to check out the other great flashers (links at the bottom of the post):

She must be bipolar. That was the only thing Brett could think as he struggled to help the flailing Tom out from underneath the skeleton without disturbing the bones too much. The old man scooted backwards on his butt and looked disdainfully at Shiloh, who was giggling uncontrollably.

“I’m sorry,” she gasped, clutching at her stomach and doubling over with the laughing fit. “It’s just so…perfect. I told you we shouldn’t dig here,” she managed, wiping at the tears rolling down her cheeks as Brett and Tom simply stared, dumbfounded.

“Shiloh,” Brett said after a moment, “can you help me with these bones, please?”

She immediately sobered. “You want me to touch it?” He nodded and watched as she searched the ground around her with amusement lacing his features.

Crossing his arms over his chest he cocked his head to the side. “What are you looking for?”

“A stick.”

Tom, back by the excavator by then, paused in brushing his pants off and looked around. He hefted a large branch over his shoulder and dropped it at Shiloh’s feet. “Here. I’m going to shower.”

“Thanks.” She watched him walk into the fog before turning back to the task at hand. Hesitating, she looked at Brett. “So, you really want to move the bones?”

“Well, I’d like to put them back in the chest before the rains hit.” He looked up at the ominous clouds. Judging by the color, they had about a half hour before a storm rolled in and ruined the work day. Not that it wasn't already ruined. Looking back at Shiloh, he lunged forward to prevent what she was doing, but he was too late.

She wedged the branch under the half open lid of the crate and gave a grunt before heaving it upright. The skeleton clattered to the dirt, clinking together noisily as several relics and documents fell on top of them from the time capsule and cracked a few smaller shards of bone in half.

Brett cursed under his breath. “Damn it, Shiloh. What’d you do that for?”

“The crate had to be moved to get the bones back in.” Duh, Brett, her voice said.

Rolling his eyes, Brett knelt and lifted the skull with tender care. Shiloh was watching him closely, fascinated with what he was doing. A gentle whiff of her shampoo hit him full force as the wind rustled her hair when she crouched next to him; lavender and honey. “It’s so tiny,” she said softly.

Blinking his way back to the present and out of the brief fantasy her closeness induced, Brett studied the skull. It was small and perfectly rounded, that of a small child, toddler or maybe even infant. A single fracture ran down the length of the head from a gaping hole in the right temple.

“Jesus Christ,” he whispered. “This kid was murdered.”

A clap of thunder made them both jump and there wasn’t much time to think when driving rain began to pelt their backs. Shiloh worked quickly to gather the documents and trinkets into the chest and together she and Brett shoved the skeleton into it and dragged the heavy box into the nearest building.

The door smacked shut on a rusted hinge with the forceful winds, drawing a shocked gasp from Shiloh as she ran nervous hands over her hair. Brett glanced around, realizing with a foreboding feeling that they’d stumbled into the home of a former affluent family. The walls of the lower level were lined with living areas, rotting furniture half draped with tarps and stuffing peeking out from the torn corners. An old stove sat in the corner of the kitchen, the sole remaining appliance. On the upper level would be the bedrooms.

Shiloh was staring at an old photo hanging on the wall, her sleeve dirty from wiping a thick layer of dust from the glass. “Hey, Brett,” she said over her shoulder, “who do you suppose used to live here?”

Brett had extensively researched the area and its history before their excursion. He knew that he would be looking into the face of Lady Genevieve, the infamous woman who was murdered by the crazed fisherman.

In fact, she and her family were murdered just above Shiloh’s head. But he couldn’t tell her that. He leaned close over her shoulder and studied the picture as though he were only just seeing it for the first time. “I’m not sure,” he lied. “Probably a fisherman and his family.”

“They look awfully rich to be a fisherman’s family,” she replied doubtfully, turning.

Brett glanced at her, finding himself in a rather advantageous position. Shiloh was right between his chest and the wall, mere inches from him. Lightning flashed outside the window and the sky darkened, casting the otherwise dreary day into shadowy darkness.

Shiloh swallowed, looking at him with those wide eyes. Do I make the move? Brett cast back and forth until a loud bang from right above their heads caused her to leap forward and grip his shirt in her fists. They both stared at the ceiling, tensing when the sound resonated in the empty house again. “What’s that noise?” she whispered, as though someone were there to hear her.

“I don’t know.” He gently removed her hands from his shirt and moved towards the stairs, pausing when he felt her latch onto his back. “Shiloh, I can’t go very far with you hanging onto me.”

“Are you crazy?” she said in a low hissing whisper. “Don’t you ever watch horror movies? There’s probably some cannibal up there waiting to strip your skin off and wear it as a pretty coat. God, Brett.”

He snorted. “You are insane.” The loud bang echoed through the house again, trailed by a clap of thunder and she pressed closer to his back. “Well, what do you propose we do?”

“Hide in the oven?”

~End~

Be sure and check out the other great bloggers this week:

M/F: Victoria Blisse Heather Lin

M/M: Pia Veleno Rj Scott Julie Hayes Lily Sawyer Sui Lynn Pender Mackie Ryssa Edwards

Help The Relief Effort in Japan

Help The Relief Effort in Japan And Read Some Great Fiction!

All proceeds from sales of Fountain of Youth, by erotic romance author Elizabeth Black will go towards aid relief.

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE

April 8, 2011

Searching for a way to help relief efforts, Ms. Black and her publisher Romance Divine, LLC collaborated to earmark all sales of her short erotic story Fountain of Youth through June 15, 2011 to be donated to the Red Cross foundation to assist the Japanese in their recovery.

Fountain of Youth is particularly appropriate as it is an m/m erotic short story based on a Japanese folk tale. In Ms. Black's Americanized version, as in the Japanese original, a lesson is learned: be careful what you wish for. What if you could have a do-over; a second chance at love and romance with the object of your heart’s desire? What would you wish for? Careful, sometimes wishes do come true, but they might not always be exactly what you expect. Sydney finds romance, and changes, after discovering a secret Fountain Of Youth

Find more about this story on Ms. Black's web site: http://elizabethablack.blogspot.com/p/japan-relief.html. All proceeds from this short story sold through June 15 will be donated to the Red Cross foundation to help with relief efforts in Japan.

###

Elizabeth Black is writer who lives on the Massachusetts coast with her husband, son, and four cats. She pens erotic romance, erotica, dark fiction, and horror. She also writes articles about sex and relationships for numerous publications. You may find her at her web site, http://elizabethablack.blogspot.com. Friend her on Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/elizabethablack

Romance Divine LLC is a publisher of print books, e-books and audio books; both fiction and non-fiction, in a variety of genres. Romance Divine books can be found at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, All Romance e-Books, Kobo, Bookstrand, Google books, the Apple iBookstore and at other fine on-line retailers. They are also available at the Romance Divine web site: http://www.romancedivine.com

Contact Information:

Elizabeth Black

trishcwilson@comcast.net

Romance Divine, LLC

Gregory Causey, Publisher

rdivinellc@yahoo.com

Six Sentence Sunday

Continuing on with the ongoing saga between Sam and Shadow:

"Mom says I'll catch fire one day for all the sparks flying off me," I deadpanned. "So what brings you by tonight?" I waved congenially to the last of the tourists leaving for the night until it was just me and Shadow. Elena and Stetson had sure as hell been gone for awhile.

"I can't just stop in for a beer?"

"Honey, your kind never just stops in for something."

(I promise Shadow's not as much of an ass as he came off to be last week. LOL)