Mommy writes books about people kissing
Tuesday, October 16th, 2012

I recently read an interview with author Desiree Holt (http://www.maturetimes.co.uk/leisure-and-lifestyle/entertainment/books/2509-grandmother-desiree-holt-the-world-s-oldest-author-of-erotic-romance.html) in which she admitted that she was nervous at first about choosing to write erotic romance because she’s a mom and grandmother as well. None of us really want to think about our mother having sexual desire much less that she’d enjoy writing about them for all the world to read. But family perception of what we do is a very real concern for many authors of erotic fiction, my-self included. Hi, my name is Cindy Jacks, I’m a mom and I gleefully write smut. When my son was younger, I didn’t worry about the stigma of my chosen profession. Af-ter all he couldn’t read what I was typing away on at the computer nor did he comprehend the cover art of my books. Now that he’s entering third grade, I do worry about public per-ception. I also worry about explaining my choices to him as he gets older. We all know how judgmental teenagers can be. Granted, I could use a pseudonym and I know many erotica authors who do. I under-stand and respect the choice, but it’s not for me. It’s important to me that I publicly acknowledge my participation in what I view as a revolution in female sexuality. It’s my way of declaring, “There’s no shame in fantasizing or writing about those fantasies.” That being said, I know when asked what I do and I reply, “I’m a writer,” the next logical question will be, “Oh, what do you write?” And yes, I will usually say I write romance until I know the person asking is open-minded enough to get the uncensored version. In general, most folks in family and my community are intrigued and supportive of what I do. My mother reads my books. My brother and father don’t (thank God) but they are proud of what I do. Earlier this summer I attended a friend’s birthday party and she took great de-light in introducing me affectionately as “the author who writes chick porn”. I spent the rest of the party fielding questions about my feelings about Fifty Shades of Grey, about what a “day at the office” is like and how my personal sex life compares to what I write about. Questions about my personal sexual history I usually sidestep, though my life partner loves claiming credit for much of my inspiration. And rightfully so. But again that plays into my anxiety about what my son’s perception of my work will be as he grows up. As he has matured, his understanding of my writing has changed and the way that I manage his exposure to it changes as well. I can’t write sitting next to him on the sofa any-more because he’s nosy and all too good at sounding out words he doesn’t know. I don’t even want to imagine what the parent-teacher conference would be like if he quoted my work in class. I also have to be mindful of whether or not he can see my laptop screen when I open a new book cover file. Some are more explicit than others. But it’s a balancing act because I don’t want to give him the impression that sexuality is anything to be ashamed of. I suppose as he gets older the way in which we process the divide between what he wants to know about my work and what I feel is appropriate to share will evolve. For now, if you ask my son what Mommy writes, he’ll reply, “Mommy writes books about people kissing.” That’s his take on the book covers he’s allowed to see and I’m grateful that I don’t have to explain them any further just yet. My latest book my son isn’t allowed to see releases this fall at Ellora’s Cave! Smuggler’s Blues, book two in the Pirates at Heart Series.

Blurb: Book two in the Pirates at Heart series. The year is 2017 and all is quiet on the eastern front. Good news for the war weary Re-public of Texas…bad news for weapons smuggling pirate Captain Brett Logan. A landlocked pirate is a dangerous creature. Logan’s been a surly handful since war’s end—not to mention a rather perfunctory lover—and his wife, Kate, has had about enough. When his first mate proposes a business venture, Logan is eager to get back to outrunning and out-gunning the enemy’s navy. There’s only one problem—his shoot first and ask ques-tions later attitude lands him in jail. It’s up to Kate to bail him out. On their way home, the couple gets stranded in enemy territory, but it’s just the shot in the arm Logan needs. Now in his element of excitement and danger, he becomes the roguish daredevil Kate fell in love with. Their passion for each other is hotter than ever—spurred on by the thrill of the chase—Logan finally finds himself rid of those pesky smuggler’s blues. Excerpt: “You plan to do what?” Kate’s eyes flashed in the firelight. “I don’t plan to do anything yet. It’s Jacques’ idea. He just needs my vessel.” “And you expect me to believe you won’t be on that vessel?” Logan held up his hands. “I never said that.” “Then Jacques’ idea has become your plan so I repeat, you plan to do what?” “It’s not as risky as it sounds.” “Smuggling bootleg whiskey into the RSA isn’t as risky as it sounds? Oh good then be-cause I thought you intended to do something crazy. And stupid.” “It’s not crazy. No crazier than running guns to the American rebels but you never seemed to mind me doing that.” “I minded. Of course I minded. I was sick with worry every time you left, but at least I was worried for a good cause. You were trying to resurrect the United States of America, but now that fight is over and we lost. There’s the Republic of Texas, the Reformed States of America and never the twain shall meet. So tell me, why would you voluntarily put yourself in that kind of danger again?” “You’re being dramatic.” “Am I? Seems to me you’re being reckless.” Reckless. The word echoed in his ear. He shook his head to clear it, but he knew she was right. He longed to be reckless. And foolhardy. And daring. And violent. He missed the bloody mess that was once his life. Kate didn’t understand—she couldn’t and he lacked the words to explain himself—but this unending domesticity was killing him a day at a time. He needed this business venture. He’d die without it, of this much he was sure. She sat on the sofa, the fire in the fireplace licking at her olive complexion, dancing in her eyes. He hated that she would be worried. He hated that the boys would miss him, but when she’d met him, Logan had been an outlaw—she herself had labeled him a pirate. She had to understand that much, didn’t she? Brushing a lock of black hair away from her face, he pressed his forehead to hers. He took her hands in his and kissed her cheek softly. “Kate, I don’t mean to sound harsh, but you need to reconcile yourself to the idea because…because I’m going to do this.” Her jaw set and she jerked her hands away from him. She stormed upstairs, Logan numb-ly watching her retreat. He’d go up in a few minutes and smooth things over. But before he got the chance, she marched down, a pillow and blanket in tow. “And you need to reconcile yourself to sleeping on the couch until you come to your senses.” She threw the bedding at him and stomped upstairs again. Setting the pillow and blanket aside, Logan sighed, the air puffing out his cheeks before it escaped his pursed lips. He rubbed the back of his neck and shook his head. Apparently she didn’t have to understand anything. Buy-it link: : http://www.jasminejade.com/m-683-cindy-jacks.aspx Cindy’s website: http://cindyjacks.com/

Cerise-Oldies But Goodies
Monday, October 15th, 2012
J.S. Wayne
Sunday, October 14th, 2012
You MUST visit Devon Falls
Thursday, October 11th, 2012

From hot romance author Raine Delight- another “delight”!!!!!

Muse interview’s Michael Barnes from the upcoming Devon Falls book, Moonlight & Magic

****

Muse settles the chairs around the fire and waits for Michael, the newest resident of Devon Falls. Sipping his hot tea, he hopes he doesn’t scare this new one off. Thinking, I can deal with the antics of Rod, Damien and all the others but this one is different. He seems more fragile in a way as if he is afraid of being rejected. I guess I better be a bit more gentle with him then the other guys. Looking up, Muse blinks as he spies a cat lounging in the window. “When did I get a cat?” He blinks again and it is still there. “Jesus…..I am going to have to talk to Raine about this whole “let’s give Muse a cat and not bother tell him about it” thing.” Sighs and sips his tea and wonders if Michael will ever show up, though as he looked at his watch, it wasn’t late…..yet.

A soft knock echoes in the room.

Muse gets up, spies the cat again and shakes his head in disbelief. 

“Welcome Michael,” as he open the door and ushers him in. “Please let me take your coat and help yourself to either coffee or tea over by the fireplace. I wasn’t sure what you would like on this blustery day.”

Michael blinks at the man in front of him. Normally he wouldn’t be so timid but this was THE Muse, the one who helped his author create the books and currently can either make you get your happily ever after or turned into dog chow.  “Hi there, I am sorry if I am early. The weather is getting bad out there and I figured to start early rather than later. I wouldn’t want to piss you off for any reason, Muse.”

Chuckling, Muse gestures over to the chairs, “Shall we sit where it is warmer?” After his guest was settled and a coffee was steaming near him, Muse settles in to get to the heart of Michael Barnes. “Michael, one I wouldn’t dream of hurting any of Raine’s creations because frankly I am afraid of what she would do to me. See she decided I needed a cat to keep me company.” Grimacing, “I don’t even know if I like cats, Michael and I look up and there one is. How long it was here, I have no idea but it looks content thank god and not dead like the plant I saw over the summer. I had no idea I even had a plant much less one where I needed to water it.”

Muse clears his throat softly as Michael chuckles. “Now let’s get to you, my boy. What brought you to Devon Falls?”

Michael: “I knew Damien Dracon from his time in Europe and we became friends. He has encouraged me to come to Devon Falls for several years now and it always felt like it wasn’t the right time to do it.” Michael shrugs as he continues, “It seemed after years of roaming from place to place, trying to find that one place to call home, it was the right time to do it.”

“You are a were-tiger, one of the rare white tigers to be specific?”

Michael: “Correct, Muse.”

“So what happened to your pride then?”

Michael shifts uncomfortably in his seat, “Muse, the only thing I can say is I was thrown out after my mother died and my uncle took over the pride. I have been alone except for a few friends ever since.”

Muse pats Michael’s knee. “It’s ok, Michael. I had to ask you see. No other details need to be given until the reader opens the book.” Sipping his rapidly cooling tea, Muse asks, “So what will you do while you are here in Devon Falls? Find work yet? A girl to see?” Muse slyly sees if Michael will mention anyone.

Michael blushes and fiddles with his leather bracelet. “Well I …..um……live over the Dew Drop. Damien’s girlfriend, Alicia generously let me stay there while I get my bearings. I found work at a local garage working on cars and Damien keeps trying to fix me up with every single woman in the town.” Sipping his now cold coffee, Michael tries to stare at the floor but finally gives up and blurts out “I did see someone I want to know more but I am afraid she won’t return my affections.”

Muse leans in, “Is it Dixie by chance? She is a feisty little package you know.”

Michael blushes even redder and nods slowly as his hair covers his face. “I feel so embarrassed. I should go up and talk to her but she is so beautiful with those dark chocolate brown eyes, a smile that lights up the emptiness inside and her genuine warmth that goes to everyone, though I have to say she does have a temper.” Michael chuckles as he sits up, pushes back his hair and smiles. “She is like a firecracker that goes off once and then calm is restored. She makes me feel happy whenever I am in her presence.”

“Well that makes it very interesting indeed, Michael.” Muse says as he watches the emotions flicker in the tiger’s eyes. He’s smitten and doesn’t even know it, Muse thought, should I let him on it or just let him find out himself. Nah…let’s have him fall like all the other ones…completely in love with their woman.

Muse looks at the watch, “A few more questions for you Michael then you can head on home before it gets even worse out there.”

“So what did you feel when you got the Devon Falls?”

Michael: “Home. That is what I thought when I drove through town onto to Damien’s Dragon Inn. I felt safe as well which is important to me. I don’t want to cause trouble for other shifters in the area and I was lucky that they are all easy going here. Damien & Rod introduced me to the local Shifter community and they accepted me, thank god. Two alpha tigers in one place are not good so I was pleased to see I was the only tiger here.”

Muse nods encouragingly as he enjoys his time with Michael. “I am glad the others in the community have accepted you, Michael. That shows much promise for your future, I think…among a certain young lady as well.” Eyes twinkling, Muse watches as Michael smiles a little at the thought of Dixie.

“So tell me about yourself Michael. What do you like to do for fun?”

Michael: “I love to read mystery books (whispers-quite partial to Josh Lanyon’s books right now) and watch natural disaster flicks, like 2012, Day After Tomorrow and others. I also hike, in my human and tiger form. I love the outdoors and someday I hope to have a cabin in the forest where I can roam at will and not worry over a poacher or hunter trying to kill me for my skin. Working on cars helps relax me as well. I like taking apart engines and then putting them back together again, all fixed and running better”

Muses laughs, “Josh Lanyon, huh? Will have to let him know on your delight of his work. Good writer though.” Muse smiles and stands up.

“That’s it Michael. See nothing to worry about. I didn’t turn you in a lizard did I? See completely painless.”

Michael stands and sighs with relief. “Thank you Muse for this. I was very nervous since I heard the horror stories from Damien and Rodrick about you. Jaxon and Alicia said not to listen to them but alas, those two kept their comments up until I left. Got me all discombulated.” Michael puts his jacket on and then before he turns to leave, looks at Muse, “I have to say this though about Dixie. Even though she may be Alicia and Jaxon’s cousin, she has a magic all her own in that her pure heart is one of the draws to me. She is sexy, challenging and very beautiful. It is the complete package I am looking to win, not just sample.” With that, Michael nodded his thanks and walked out with a soft click of the door behind him.

Muse blinks, “Well that was unexpected. What a strong man he is. Not at all timid like I thought.” Gleefully rubs his hands together, “Oh the fun I am going to have with these two will be quite entertaining indeed.”

MEOW.


Muse curses as a fur ball lands on his lap and settles in his lap. “OUCH! Damn it cat, can you NOT shred the new pants for god sakes. I just got these and I like them.” Muse mutters on torture devices for Raine while he absently pets the cat who purrs contently in his lap. He looks down, “So who should we sit in the hot seat next, fluffy?” 

Check out Moonlight & Magic, Michael’s story in the Devon Falls Series now available at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, All Romance Ebookstore, Bookstrand and at Secret Cravings Publishing. (links are below the blurb)

Can a were-tiger convince one stubborn woman that she is his for all time and show her that falling in love is just as sinful as a chocolate kiss?

Dixie Sinclair has watched her cousins all fall in love and now she wants the same. Dared to go to the annual Masquerade ball, Dixie finds the one thing she desires: love…one problem…can she trust that it will last after that one night?

Michael Barnes is a rare white were-tiger who was thrown out of his pride long ago for a trumped up crime, Michael roams the world searching for the one place to call home. Finding that peace in Devon Falls, he finds the one woman who stirs him like no other. Can he convince Dixie that she can trust in him forever?

Raine’s Bio:

Raine Delight loves to be pampered by her harem of men that exist solely for her pleasure. Wait…..that was in a movie she saw. Hey, she can dream.  Raine loves to fight with her muse, attack her manuscripts and find a way to silence the many voices in her head. Inspiration hits at odd times and for Raine, a blank word document page gives her many possibilities on story ideas.  Living with her two kids, a significant other who supports her every move in writing and doesn’t seem to mind she gets up at 2 am to type away on the computer. With a love for Johnny Depp, movies and 80’s hair bands, Raine finds a way to bring all her chaotic thoughts into a story that tells her readers about love and romance.


My links:






Secret Cravings Publishing: www.secretcravingspublishing.com

Haunting Magic book Trailer: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tvmFxgLQtx4

Red Hot Magic Book Trailer: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sLZcr8ubIr8

A Summer Night Fling Book Trailer: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AxnlmfG6DjA 

J. J. Massa tells us about a woman in a man’s realm.
Wednesday, October 10th, 2012

Hi, Desiree and Hi to everyone visiting here!

Thanks so much for letting me stop over. Way to go on the recent release of Overnight Sensation and the anthology SWITCH! You’re burning it up, aren’t you?
As for me, I have a few books on the way, and one just out. I’ll get to that. First, the interview questions. What interview questions, you ask?
Well.
I’ve been interviewed a couple of times recently. Honestly, I don’t always know how to answer. In two recent interviews, I noticed I answered a question differently than on the last one. The interviewers are two different people and one hasn’t happened yet. Still, I guess that proves I’m a bit changeable.
The interviews do serve a real purpose though. An author isn’t floundering and trying to figure out what someone else’s blog followers might want. That’s a good thing. What if you don’t really want to know about my neighbor Tom and the ongoing debate about how we are not dating? And I’m not not-dating, either. If you don’t know what I mean by that, good. :- )
Since Desiree didn’t ask me anything, I went to her site and read a little about her. With her colorful history, I thought she might like to know what odd, irregular, or different things I might have done in my lifetime.


One thing I’ve done that can vaguely be considered “a woman in a man’s realm” took place before I was very old. Many of you won’t be familiar with the name Bill “Maverick” Golden. He’s famous for being the owner and driver of “The Little Red Wagon,” a Dodge drag racing/exhibition truck based on the Dodge A100.
Mr. Golden took that truck to Guinness Book of World Records glory in 1977 by performing the longest wheelstand in history, at least at that time. My involvement with the man and his truck is much less glorious.
He lived right behind a restaurant my parents owned in the mid -seventies. The thing is, I had the most terminal crush on his mechanic. James. The mechanic’s name was James. I haunted the place and was eventually pressed into service –even paid every so often. 
I can’t remember every bit of that time, but I do remember how tall and thin James was, and that he had to wear boots all the time because his ankles had been injured or something. I remember the heartbreak I experiences when they went on the road, and how completely blown away, and moved I felt the first time I got a postcard from James while he and Bill were on the road. Though not a great correspondent, he did send me cards or letters, and even called now and then. For a young man free of Arkansas and his very large family of sisters–he had at least four of them–the consideration he showed me, in retrospect, is amazing.
I also remember that the Torqueflite™ Transmission turned out to be much heavier than I ever suspected. Little girls torn between a first crush and tomboy-hood should steer clear of heavy lifting as a way to show off.
One other thing I’ve done that could qualify as odd, irregular or different, is something you really don’t want to hear. I say that because it includes singing. I have a horrible singing voice, which doesn’t usually stop me around the house. In public, I keep my vocal stylings to myself. Except for that one time. I’m pretty sure the singer I was dating at the time, and me, were both trashed. That’s all I can come up with. While I’m not a proponent of public drunkenness, I’ll be forever grateful that the audience, too, enjoyed a few too many libations that night. It was the early ’80s. Folks did those things back then. Legally, even.
Moving on, here’s where I tell you what I’ve written recently and try to interest you in it. So here goes:
 

 Art & Soul
by J.J. Massa
Oliver Crane is a success. He enjoys making movies– losing himself in a new role every few months. Acting allows him to express so many facets of his nature. Dark and intense, he lives his work as the screen’s ideal leading man. What woman wouldn’t want to spend the night in his bed? For that matter, how many men could say they didn’t want him?
Not Thorbjörn  Frisk. Or he wouldn’t deny it, if anyone bothered to ask him. A Swedish artist who immigrated to America in his late teens, Tor often loses himself in his work, avoiding the harsh realities of impatient and intolerant people who have no use for a stuttering sculptor who barely speaks English.
 Each man has invested his very soul into his art. What will it cost in the end?

 Excerpt:

Tor was up to his elbows in plaster, clay, and muck when he heard the disturbance outside. Forcibly ignoring the racket, he immersed himself in finding the rhythm of the piece of art in front of him. The sculpture was a multi-media undertaking commissioned by the wife of a prominent local businessman.
As a rule of thumb, the art trade was competitive if you were into that sort of thing, which neatly ruled Tor out. Born Thorbjörn Matthias Frisk in the Östergötland municipality of Sweden, his family had moved to New York when he was seventeen.
Tor had struggled to fit in with his American peers for many years. This had proved to be impossible in the long run, of course. He was just too different. Though he began to pick up the language here, Swedish would always be his first language. Thus, it would forever be the language he thought in. Where he was from, creativity was highly prized, and nobody cared a whit about sexual orientation.
Things were different here. With a shake of his head, he stepped back to view his project. It was only then that he heard the pounding on his studio door.
Komma in!” he called absently, circling the huge sculpture, assessing what it was and what it might become. As he reached the point where he’d been working, Tor began to back up for a broader view, bumping unexpectedly against something solid.
“What the hell?” a strange voice shouted. “What’re doing? You got…sludge all over me!”
The new voice and unexpected impact caught Tor by surprise, causing him to stumble, grabbing onto the now-gaping stranger. Only, this wasn’t a stranger—not really. While he’d never met the actor, everyone knew Oliver Crane.
Dark hair, square jaw, piercing blue eyes, muscles in all the right places, the man was a god. Currently, however, he was a god covered in what amounted to mud. Sure, it was expensive mud, but mud just the same. Tor, on the other hand, was covered in… Well, he was covered by Oliver Crane. He definitely had the best part of the deal—or so he thought, until he looked into those raging blue eyes.
“Um,” he squeaked, before trying again. “Hallo. What brings you to my verkstad?” At the arching of one dark brow, Tor quickly supplied the translation. “Uh, Verkshop. Stu-d’yo. Studio.”
The burning eyes narrowed before their owner fluidly lifted himself from atop Tor. Before Tor had time to miss his presence, Oliver reached down pulled him up, setting him quickly on his feet.
“I’m lost,” the famous voice snapped impatiently. “Your neighbors seemed to think you were the go-to guy for directions.”
“I-I cannot imagine why,” Tor mumbled pushing his overlong bangs aside. “ Vart går du?” he asked. “Where going?” he tried again. He’d been in this country long enough; he should be fluent by now. Except his thoughts and words always reverted to his native tongue when  flustered or nervous. Worse than that, his stutter increased as well.
Intense eyes studied him, pinning him in place until Tor could barely breathe. “I’m going to Yankee Stadium,” the man ground out finally.
“Oh! This I know,” Tor announced, pleased. “I can show…”
“Can you just write out some directions?” The actor paused, sweeping Tor with another scathing look. “Just draw me a map.”
The words might not have been intended to hurt, but they did.
Hurriedly turning away, Tor shuffled through random papers on his cluttered desk. He hated being so bumbling. Art was his world. Art didn’t judge, only accepted.

J.J. Massa
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