Thursday, April 27, 2017

April Contest - Win an erotic paranormal romance from Tina Donahue #TinaDonahueBooks #Contest

April Contest

Win a copy of This Time When We Touch

Erotic Paranormal Romance

Rules: Simply leave your name and email addy in the comments section AT THIS LINK and you're entered in my April contest! WINNER CHOSEN AT RANDOM. 
Duration: Contest begins April 1 and runs through April 29 – Winner announced April 30.

Fate has cruelly torn them apart through the centuries…
Endless desire and unparalleled love will bring them together a final time.
Through numerous reincarnations, Jade Jacome has adored one man. His love for her has repeatedly led to her murder, always on the same day and time. Jade’s scientific research proves this is their final rebirth, her last chance to outwit destiny and fulfill their passion. Against a backdrop of Brazil’s lushly decadent Carnaval, Jade has forty-eight hours to meet and tempt her lover, now known as Patrick Kane, then break fate’s deadly pattern.
Irresistibly drawn to Rio, Patrick senses Jade’s yearning that matches his. Seeing her again, time stops. Though they’ve never met in this life, he feels their connection, and that she’s in danger because of him. Baffled and unsettled, Patrick resists his attraction to Jade to keep her safe.
In a contest of wills and shameless seduction, Jade must gamble all, even her life, before the anniversary of their first separation or risk losing Patrick forever.
A Siren Erotic Romance

Jade regarded the young women who’d spoken to Patrick. The one on the right snatched his tee and pressed it to her nose. Her girlfriends reacted with surprise, dismay, jealousy, then all of them fell back to their towels, laughing loudly.
Their happiness touched Jade. She wanted the same for herself and Patrick. Turning to the sea, she spotted him. His strong, solid strokes took him farther from shore and her.
Jade followed for a few feet then stopped, warning herself against joining Patrick, telling him she was the woman he’d searched for when he’d moved down the beach. Her confession might flood him with too many painful memories, which would make her seduction that much more difficult.
When he saw her again, she needed him to recall a warm summer day in 1510, moments after he’d finished his swim. He’d stood in a shallow part of the stream then, the water reaching just above his knees. Beads of moisture dripped from his eyebrows, stubble, and long dark lashes. Sun drizzled through thick stands of cork and olive trees, dappling his broad shoulders with flecks of golden light. With his head lowered, he’d scooped water then flung it beneath his arms.
Secretly, she’d watched him, as she had for weeks, ever since he’d arrived at her papá’s castle to tutor her younger brothers.
His tall, strong body had intrigued her from the start, along with his educated voice, sculpted features, and bearing with his charges.
Unlike her papá’s other servants, he didn’t defer to her brothers, indulging their every whim. With a firm but fair hand, he’d schooled them in advanced mathematics, Latin, Greek, science, horsemanship, and other physical pursuits. At those times, he’d worn only a linen shirt and hose as he ran and played with them. Grinning broadly, he’d ruffled her brothers’ dark hair when they performed to his satisfaction.
She began to imagine his smile directed at her, his touch belonging to no one else.
At night, she dreamt of him. During the day, she couldn’t think of anything else, consumed with everything he did. Where he slept, what he ate, how he enjoyed his few moments of freedom from her brothers and her papá’s demands.
Clearly, he enjoyed bathing in the stream, rather than the iron tub in the castle. As though he preferred to be outdoors because it allowed him to be alone. Or so he thought.
Water poured through his fingers as he finally sensed her. His hand remained suspended in air as he forgot to bring it to his chest.
Slowly, as though uncertain at what he might see, he’d lifted his face and stared at the hem of her yellow gown. The insistent breeze had pulled the linen away from her legs and around the tree trunk where she’d been hiding.
A warning registered in her mind, telling her to yank the garment back, then turn and run, not stopping until she reached the chapel. There, god would expect her to feel badly for what she’d witnessed.
Carnal desire proved more powerful and compelling than eternal damnation, trapping her where she stood. With her palms on the stout ancient tree, she leaned to the left, knowing he’d see her face, not caring if he did. All she could do was drink in his powerful male form—his flat nipples, as richly brown as the earth, the dark tufts of hair beneath his arms, the silky strands swirling around his navel then trickling to his groin.
Flushed with embarrassment, fevered with need, she stared at his male organ, captivated as it lengthened and hardened before her eyes, the skin growing dusky, the head rounded and so plump his skin seemed in danger of splitting.
When she finally glanced up, she forgot to breathe. In his dark eyes, she saw desire to match her own. The promise of what life should be, not what her papá had planned for her with the count. A man she could barely stand.
Trembling with excitement, she stepped from behind the trunk and faced him.
Beneath his lust, she saw how bewildered he was. He had no idea who she might be or where she belonged. Although he’d lived at her papá’s castle for weeks, there was no reason for her father to have introduced them. He was a mere tutor, she even less. A female relegated to the shadows, ordered to be quiet and meek until her nuptials.
Undeniable need drew her closer to him, a sense of destiny singing in her blood.

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Sunday, April 23, 2017

Genre Hopping - Do Readers Love It, or Hate It?

Writing in Multiple Subgenres by Kathy Kulig

It’s not unusual for romance writers to write several types (sub-genres) of romance—historical, paranormal, contemporary, erotica, sci-fi, futuristic, romantic suspense, YA, steampunk, etc.

And some manage to combine two or more of the above called mashups.

I’ve written in paranormal, sci-fi, futuristic with steampunk elements, and paranormal/shapeshifters, contemporary, romantic suspense, and vampires which may fit under fantasy or paranormal.

Why do authors write in different genres instead of sticking to one? Wouldn’t staying in one be the best way to build a loyal following of fans? Possibly, or maybe it doesn’t matter. There are several reasons why authors chose to genre hop.

The demands of readers, editors and agents change constantly. Tastes and favorites change. One moment paranormals are the hot item, months later, no one wants them. Contemporary or military is hot now! Then inspirationals are in demand. Like body surfing waves at the beach. Maybe you get lucky and ride the crest, or unlucky and end up swimming to shore without any momentum.

I started out writing paranormal/sci-fi. My true love. I read it voraciously as a kid, minus the romance, now I love writing it with the added romance and sexy parts.

My first published novel was paranormal with a small press. While I was submitting to NY publishers and agents, I submitted paranormals, until my rejections letters started saying, “Your writing is good, love the story, but we’re not signing any paranormal stories at this time.” So I tried contemporary, romantic suspense, etc., partly as a test of my writing skill, but also to follow or adapt to the market needs. The process was frustrating, but I don't regret it.

There are benefits to writing in various subgenres
  • You develop fresh writing skills and techniques for the different genres.
  • You may find a creative outlet or strengths you didn't know you had.
  • You may become a more effective storyteller, plotter, character developer, etc.
  • The new techniques and skills may open new opportunities for writing projects. Short stories, novellas, series, etc.
  • If you're in a slump or hit writer's block, writing something different might stir your creativity.

Now that I’m not actively pursuing a traditional publisher or agent at this time, I’m back to writing what I truly love – paranormals –vampires and shifters.

As a reader and/or writer, how do you feel about authors who write in multiple genres? Do you like to read in various genres? Or do you prefer authors who have huge series?

Find out about Kathy Kulig

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Thursday, April 20, 2017

Do You Really Do What You Write About?

I've seen so many cute T-shirts online with writing themes. One in particular caught my eye: "My wife writes romance. I benefit. Big time."

Okay, it's cute. I chuckled when I read it. Then I thought about how people treat me when they find out I write erotic romance. Suddenly, I've become a sex expert. I have to know everything about sex since I write about it. Surely I couldn't write about something if I've never experienced it.

Yes, I can.

It's called research. Imagination. Reading what interests me. Learning from some of my favorite authors. I haven't called two male friends and taken them to bed so I could describe a menage correctly. (Although that might be fun...)

Most of the erotic romance authors I know are in a committed relationship with their own personal hero. They've been married for years. A menage is in their minds, not their beds.

I'm amazed at how many people believe we writers actually DO all the stuff we write about. Thriller and mystery writers don't find dead bodies buried in their backyards. Horror writers don't slash people's throats or stab them twenty-seven times. Paranormal writers don't hang around with vampires and werewolves.

We lose ourselves in our stories the same way you do. We create characters we hope you'll love as much as we do. Most of our adventures are created in front of our computers, not in the bedroom.

If I ever do find those two male friends to help with my research, I'll let you know...


Check my website for information on my newest release, Stud for Hire.

Tuesday, April 18, 2017

Want to Write a Book? Start Here by Suz deMello (#WritingCraft #iamwriting #MFRWAuthor)

          Unlike baking a cake, sinking a basket or ice skating, many people seem to believe that they can open their computer and write the next bestseller without any tutelage whatsoever. However, writing isn't an inborn skill.
        But studying the craft of writing can save the day, or at least create a career. Taking classes in either creative writing or non-fiction writing is an obvious course of action.
What books can help a budding fiction writer? Deb Dixon's Goal, Motivation and Conflict describes the three basics of story-telling. For basic story structure, Chris Vogler’s Writer’s Journey, is incomparable. A truly dedicated writer can dip into the source, reading some of the works of comparative mythologist Joseph Campbell, on whose works Vogler’s is based.
Self-Editing for Fiction Writers by Renni Browne and Dave King is an invaluable resource for polishing manuscripts. I've recommended it to countless aspiring writers--and more experienced ones--over the years. Even experienced writers dip back into it now and then.
Exploring the writer's journey isn't only fun but enlightening. Two books on writing that will entertain and teach are Stephen King's On Writing and Rita Mae Brown's Starting From Scratch, her writer's manual.
And of course, there's my book, About Writing, which covers the basics and a whole lot more. What others have said about About Writing:

5.0 out of 5 stars
A short, information-packed book for would-be writers; a refresher for
seasoned pros!
By anonymous on October 29, 2015
A great reference for experienced writers, an easy-reading primer for beginners. 

5.0 out of 5 stars
Great for writers at all levels. By Kathleen on October 1, 2015
About Writing by Suz deMello is a small, but powerful book for beginners and experienced writers alike

5.0 out of 5 stars
Crazy about Craft ByBook Addicton October 1, 2015
This is an excellent book to have in your craft library.

        Happy writing!

Friday, April 14, 2017

It's My Birthday - Want to Win a Naughty Literati Tote Bag? by Marianne Stephens

It's my birthday and I'm OLD! Oh, well, can't stop Mother Nature from moving along!

If you'd like a chance to win one of 5 Naughty Literati tote bags, just comment below. Say "Happy Birthday", leave your email address, and tell me what country you live in. Totes only shipped to US addresses. If your name is picked and you live in a different country, I'll have something else for you!

Second chance to win something! Visit for a chance to win one of 10 size XLRB4U T-Shirts!

Both giveaways end midnight 15 April ET.

photos: Flickr: Nicke Kenrick photostream and

Saturday, April 8, 2017

Playing the "What If?" game. Ian and Billy's story

Last summer talented author Stormy Glenn set up a game of “What If”. She wrote the opening paragraphs to a story and invited more than twenty other authors to each finish the story however they wished.

Participating was a lot of fun, and each author finished the story in their own unique way.
This is what Stormy wrote:

He felt a warm glow flow through him as Ian’s hands stroked down his sides. Every time Ian’s hazel eyes met his, Billy’s heart turned over in response. His pulse pounded. A delightful shiver of wanting ran through him. He tossed his head back and groaned.
Ian’s touch always affected him this way. It had from the first day he laid eyes on the man when they were just kids in second grade. Ian Thomas was Billy’s knight in shining armor, protecting him from all the evils on the playground.
“Ian,” Billy gasped. His need for Ian overrode everything in his world, maybe even his need to breathe. Ian was everything Billy had ever wanted, ever desired. Being here in his arms felt like heaven on earth.
“I’ll take care of you, Billy,” Ian whispered back, “I’ve always taken care of you, haven’t I?”
“Yes,” Billy hissed. He curled into the curve of Ian’s body, pressing his hard cock against the man’s abdomen. He buried his face in the corded muscles of Ian’s chest, overwhelmed by the desire burning through him.
A large hand took his face and held it gently. Soft lips nipped at his. “I’ll always take care of you, Billy.”
Billy turned his head and pressed a kiss into Ian’s hand before giving his response. “Ian,” He whimpered again. “I need you, Ian.”
“I’m here for you, Billy.”
His touch, firm and persuasive, invited Billy to lean into a kiss that curled his toes with its intensity. Ian’s lips were warm and sweet against Billy’s, reminding him of honey and sunshine.
“Ian, love.”
“Yes, Billy.”
“BILLY! Wake the hell up!”

And this is how I finished the story:

Billy startled awake, his pleasant dreams of being in bed with Ian, about to be fucked by Ian, suddenly shattered as his bleary eyes opened to see them both still on the damn airplane.
His cock pressed hard against his jeans and he longed to rearrange his equipment, but Ian’s gaze was still fixed on him and told him he must have said or done something embarrassing as he slept. Make that something more embarrassing than just having his head on Ian’s shoulder, faint traces of drool on his lips, and jeans that were currently much too tight in the crotch.
“What’s up?”
Ian’s gaze flicked to the person on Billy’s other side. An older, weedy little man pressed hard against the far side of his seat, putting as much space between himself and Billy as possible on an overcrowded Boeing 767.
Billy pasted his most endearing smile on his face and apologized. “I’m sorry. I must have been dreaming.”
The man didn’t seem appeased. Billy raised an eyebrow at Ian but he didn’t say anything. Maybe he couldn’t until they were alone.
Billy tapped the screen on the seatback TV showing their flight route and saw that they’d almost arrived. At least that was good news. Besides, what could he have been doing that was so bad? Well, apart from the massive hard-on and dreams of being in bed with Ian.
Which is when he remembered why they were on the airplane, and where they were going. Back to their childhood. Back to the horrors of grade school. Back to Mississippi, one of the least gay-friendly states in the US.
And once again he wished he’d been strong enough to refuse to attend this reunion no matter how much his family and friends had begged him to return.

* * * *

Ian smiled reassuringly at Billy. Yes, at thirty-three he was still Billy. Not Bill and definitely not William. Ian knew how much Billy hadn’t wanted to come to their school reunion but so many people had Facebooked them begging them to attend, and both sets of parents, his and Billy’s, had demanded they return, that here they were. It was the centenary of the school district with an entire week of celebrations planned.
It was fifteen years since they’d left, driving away together in a beat-up old Ford piled high with all their possessions. The first few years hadn’t been easy, studying and working, but they’d been together and that was enough for both of them. He’d had a full scholarship for track, and Billy had won a part-scholarship in poetry. The weird thing was, it had been Billy who’d paid their way in the end, winning an award for a poem he’d sent into a magazine, hoping for a hundred dollars if they printed it, and winning ten thousand instead.
New York was their home now, a city packed with gay bars, and gay friendly events, so different from their home town. Ian stared at Billy, hoping he’d be strong, hoping this wasn’t going to be a terrible mistake. Ian wanted it to be the catharsis that would free Billy from his fears of the past. That would make him strong again, to go out and conquer the world with his brilliant, evocative, mesmerizing words.
“Ready?” he asked smiling at his lover.
Billy stared at him, a worried frown on his face. “I should have bought a plain lounge suit. These clothes are fine for our normal parties but I don’t know—”
Ian hugged him gently. “We decided we would be ourselves this week. No acting, no pretending. We’re adults now with worthwhile careers and our own lives. Remember?”
Billy sighed. “In theory that sounds fine. But in practice I’m not so sure.”
Ian gripped his shoulders, willing Billy to look into his gaze. “You’re a success. You did what you always wanted to do, and you’ve made a good life for yourself. Hell, kids in school have to read your poetry now.”
Billy giggled with some of his normal enthusiasm. “That’s a fitting punishment for anyone to suffer.”
“Exactly. Now let’s go. Chin up and look them in the eye if they’re rude to you.”
He could feel Billy’s body shivering as he held his arm, so he rubbed his back gently. Ian would have simply raised his middle finger and told anyone who was rude to fuck off, but he knew this was more important than that to Billy. Billy needed to be accepted. It wasn’t enough that he’d proved to the whole world he was a talented poet. The people who really mattered were right here in his home town. They were the ones who’d sneered and laughed at him, who’d teased him and called him names. It was time for payback. Time for them to apologize. Although Ian didn’t think too many of them would. But as long as they accepted Billy and were polite, that’d do. If they were rude Ian would take care of them, as he always had done. He might not be a track star anymore, but he still knew how to punch. Preferably fast and hard before the other guy expected him to.
The limo stopped outside the conference center door, and the driver raced around to open the car door for them. They thanked him and he got back in the limo and drove away, but they just stood there under the starry sky. Ian waited patiently as Billy drew heaving breaths of warm summer night into his lungs.
“Ready?” he asked gently.
“I guess so.”
He didn’t sound very confident. Ian entwined his fingers with Billy’s, and gripped his hand tightly. “You can do it,” he said softly.
A doorman held the conference center door open for them, and then marched staidly across the marble floored foyer to two huge wooden doors. He waited until Billy nodded before opening the door on the right. Hand in hand they walked in to a huge room that was packed with maybe a thousand guests, the women in glittering ball gowns, the men in tuxedos and dress suits.
Across the stage in huge rainbow colored letters was a sign. “Welcome home, Billy. Hilltown’s most famous son.”
A thousand people stomped their feet and clapped their hands in unison, chanting, “Bill-y, Bill-y, Bill-y!”
Ian’s eyes filled with tears and his heart almost burst with pride. Hell yes. At last Billy was being awarded the honor that was his due. His nervous, emotional, immensely talented lover had been accepted for himself at last.

I have a male/male romance in “Naughty Haunts” called “Were the Hell” and one in “Naughty Flings” called, “The Loch Ness Monster, Romeo and Julio”.

Septimus has to learn why no female weres have been born into his pack. When he walks into the meeting room he smells his mate. A male.

Buy link:

Fraser Campbell and Cameron MacDonald are sent to Glasgow on business. Cam’s determined to see the Loch Ness monster. Fraser just wants Cam.

Buy link:

Berengaria Brown


Wednesday, April 5, 2017

My First Published Novel is Now Available Again

The second in my Passions series of erotic Medieval historical romances is now available! Ruling Passion is a full-length novel that features handsome knights, a lady in distress who manages to get herself rescued, then has to face the consequences, and a story of two people kept apart by circumstances but drawn together by love for each other.

This was my very first published full-length novel. I’d had a number of short stories published in various magazines before then, but in 2001 an editor from Ellora’s Cave contacted me to ask if I had any novels I might consider publishing with them. I did, in fact, thought it wasn’t finished.  I emailed what I had to the editor and she sent back an enthusiastic, “Yes, I want it.”

I set to work, but that January, my father died and for a couple of months I couldn’t even think about writing. The editor was sympathetic and told me to take whatever time I needed. A couple of months later I was finally ready to get back to writing and it seemed like the story just flowed out of me at that point. I finished it within a month and we began a whirlwind round of back and forth edits that lasted another month or so. The book released in June, 2002.

It was put into print a few years later and had had numerous different covers since its first release. I haven’t tried to count how many, but I can remember at least four right off-hand. Despite that, it was my best-selling book for EC.

EC is now gone and I have rights back to all my stories. I’ve never been entirely happy with the way my stories were edited or some of the changes I was asked to make, so I’m going back and re-editing all of them. It’s a lot of work, but worth it to shape them into the stories I’ve always wanted them to be.

Saturday, April 1, 2017

My Art Is Up For Cover Of The Month!

My cover for Make Mine a Double is up for cover of the month at All Authors. If you like the cover or enjoyed the story, please stop by and cast your vote. Which page the covers are on changes but currently MMaD is on page one. <3
Thank you!
Happy reading,