What is different about Love My Fate? #fate #rules #romance @DarylDevore

 

By Daryl Devore (Guest Blogger)

How it was written. I ignored two conventions of romances. First – Love My Fate was written with three distinct sections (acts). A lot of romances have the idea of three acts, but they are not so obvious. The story flows seamlessly from the sweet meet to the happily ever after. Nothing wrong with that. But, I like trying things outside the box. I know I’ll get grief from some readers. Some people do not handle/accept deviation from the norm. Others will find it unique.

Happily ever after just doesn’t happen. Events have to come together to get the two to meet. Both people have background, baggage, quirks and foibles which affect the development of the relationship. Instead of just focusing on the romance, this story focuses on the lives of the two people who are in the sights of Cupid’s arrow.

I let my characters tell their story and this is how Love My Fate came about.

Act 1 – Capri

Meet the female MC (main character)

Capri is a business executive with a crazy-ass friend, Kat. They have been best friends since elementary school. While Capri has grown into her mature, responsible corporate persona, Kat is still the wild child.

Kat orders tickets to a sex toy convention and drags Capri to the event. After several glasses of champagne, which Capri needs to bolster herself, she tours the event.

A voice whispers in Capri’s ear – buy something fun, something erotic and something dangerous. Capri dismisses it, thinking she overheard someone else’s conversation until the voice continues to follow her around the event.

Then it follows her home. Crazy sexiness happens, but Capri can’t cope with the fantasy. She needs stability and reality in her life. She tells the voice to leave. It does and she immediately regrets her decision.

Act 2 – Thall

Meet the male MC.

Thall is the youngest son of one of the three Fates.

The Fates control our life. They are who are called upon when a human says – oh, let the Fates decide. Clothos, Atropos and Lachesis are the three main ones with children taking over part of their job as the world’s population has exploded.

Thall has been the overseer to Capri since she was born. He watched her grow up, graduate from university, fall in love, get married and suffer through a soul-crushing divorce. Then something unexpected happened; he fell in love with her. Fates are not human. They have no emotions. Thall couldn’t understand why he felt this way. None of his thousands of siblings or cousins has a ounce of emotion, yet he craves to be with Capri.

In a conversation with Lachesis, his mother, and Xyno, his sister, he confesses he is in love. The women conspire to grant Thall his desire and let him become human so that he may love Capri.

Atropos, his aunt, is furious. It is wrong for a Fate to love a human.

Act 3 – The Romance

This is where it all happens. And no, I’m not going to tell you.

Second convention I broke - Act 1 and 2 are written in first person POV – to really let you get into the heads of the characters. Act three – Takes a step back to third person POV and let’s the reader watch the action.

Numerous people told me I couldn’t/shouldn’t write the story this way. I ignored them. Hey, if I’m wrong – I’m wrong. But what if I’m right?!?!

Everything evolves. What if Love My Fate is the start of a new trend in writing? Who knows.

Other romance conventions were adhered to. There is suspense – action – oh, and yes – some romance (and a lot of hot sex). The action involves a crash landing – a komono dragon - a run from a tsunami – a man with a knife – a car crash and corporate espionage. Wow – I hadn’t realized how much I put these two through.

One last comment – if you like a book filled with high drama and angst – then this NOT the book for you.

Blurb

What's a woman to do when a voice follows her home and makes mad, passionate love to her?

Daryl Devoré’s latest is a quirky paranormal urban fantasy – Love My Fate.

Corporate businesswoman, Capricious Gray, is dragged to a sex toy convention by her best friend. After a mysterious disembodied voice helps her with her purchases, it follows her home. Passion ensues, leaving Capri torn between lust for her fantasy lover and the desperate need for reality in her life.

Thall, son of one of the Fates, harbours the irrepressible need to be with the woman he's desired from afar for years. In order to make her his, once and for all, he must help Capri get past her fears, including the fear of what he represents - a fantasy.

Can fantasy become a reality for these two lovers?

Note: This book was previously published by New Dawning Bookfair under the title Capri’s Fate. The edition has a new title, new cover and has restored previously deleted scenes.

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Excerpt

By the time Kat and I left Patsy's Party, I had a bustier and a glass dildo. Three display areas later, I owned a bottle of lubricant—'A water-based warming gel that gently heats on contact to improve mind-blowing sexual satisfaction.'

Who writes the blurbs for these things?

My fingers hovered over a pair of red, fuzzy handcuffs, having noticed cuffs like these around Valentine's Day and thought they'd be a giggle to own. But could I? I'd never be able to trust a man enough to let him cuff me to… well to anything. Still, I wanted them. Really wanted them. And I kind of would like to find the man who could do the cuffing. Someone mysterious, adventurous and have incredible eyes. Hmph, I'm at a sex toy convention and I'm thinking about eyes. I gave myself a little shake and turned away.

Noting that my inhibitions had taken a vacation, I followed Tee to the next display area, side by side with Kat. The neon pink sign above the display read Adam and Eve. Adam's other job was probably male stripper or porn star. It had to be. Real men just don't look like that. You know that tingle that starts in your crotch when male heat walks into the room—well—hello Adam!

He talked about a five-function clit massager. My knees went weak and my jaw dropped open. By the time he got to powerful, easy to use and comes with multiple adjustments, perspiration trickled down my back and my panties were wet.

Did he stop there?

Nope! On to the latest and the greatest in spanking toys.

He stroked my behind with a long, black stick. "Do you like to be tamed? This is a stiffening crop." He gave my backside a slight slap.

I almost ripped his shirt off.

"You can turn it on low and be teased by your partner. Or turn to four…"

"And what?" Kat's voice was breathless.

He brushed my cheek with the crop. "It's best to save number four for a very naughty partner."

Yes, I bought it. As we left the display stall, my fingernails dug into the flesh of my palms from the vice-like grip I had on my purchases. "I need a drink."

Tee checked her watch as she led the way. "We'll go back to the VIP area. There'll be a demonstration on the main stage in about ten minutes."

I kept pulling Kat out of displays as we walked back. I think she wanted to purchase one of everything in the building.

"Very good choices, so far," the deep male voice breathed in my ear. "But you still need one more item—something erotic."

Something erotic? I've got a glass dildo, warming lubricant, a red bustier and a riding crop. That's not erotic enough?

"No."

Can you hear my thoughts?

"Yes."

Trying not to think anything—or pee my pants—I reached for Kat's elbow, but my hand moved and I grabbed an object in the display beside me. The label proudly read The Nipple Tickler. Vibrating nipple clamps?

Tee stepped next to me. "I have a pair of those. I just love them."

I stared at my hand. Every time I tried to open my fingers to release the package, the muscles and nerves ignored my command.

Erotic enough for you? Voice. Person. Thing?

A hot breath passed over my ear. "Delightfully erotic."

I've got sex toys in my hands and a horny voice in my head. Oh, happy day.

About the Author

Two writers in one. Daryl Devoré writes hot romances with sexy heroes and strong heroines. Victoria Adams is Daryl's alter ego when she's inspired to write sweet romances with little to no heat.

Daryl (@daryldevore) lives in an old farmhouse in Ontario, Canada, with her husband, two black cats - Licorice and Ginny-Furr Purrkins - and some house ghosts. Her daughter is grown and has flown the nest. Daryl loves to take long walks on her quiet country road or snowshoe across the back acres, and in the summer, kayak along the St. Lawrence River. She has touched a moon rock, a mammoth, and a meteorite. She’s been deep in the ocean in a submarine, flown high over Niagara Falls in a helicopter, and used the ladies room in a royal palace. Life’s an adventure and Daryl’s having fun living it.

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Book Bub

Vegas and the Afterlife -- #Hades #mythology #underground @KD_Grace

By KD Grace (Guest Blogger)

There are very few religions or mythologies that don’t speculate on what happens after death. Since no one has ever come back to tell the tale, or bothered to post selfies from the afterlife on Facebook, we speculate. Most Westerners have grown up with tales of heaven and hell. Heaven is always some nebulous place “up there” with angels and harps, and hell is always “down there” below ground, in the fiery pit with pitchforks and demons. But to me, no matter how vivid the fire and brimstone rendition, those stories have always been far less intriguing than the stories of other peoples’ afterlives. In Greek mythology, for example, whether you’re good or bad, everyone ends up underground, and you have to cross the River Styx to get there. Not only do you have to cross the river, but you have to pay your own passage on the boat. Then you’re in the land of the shades (that’s Greek speak for ghosts). Hades, the god of the dead rules this underworld, which happens to share his name, and he always has room for one more.

While I’m claustrophobic enough not to really want my person stuck underground, there’s something about tunnels, caves and abandoned depths that fascinates me. I know my basic psychology well enough to figure those places probably represent my unconscious and all the things that I fear and doubt, and I’m neurotic enough to have a good list of both. That being the case it’s not a huge shock to readers that the underground places are a reoccurring theme in Medusa’s Consortium stories. Magda’s gang has taken me into a derelict slate quarry, the crypt of a deconsecrated chapel, and abandon subway tunnels. It’s not too big of a surprise then that the storm tunnels of Las Vegas should figure largely in Buried Pleasures, the third of the Medusa novels and the first of the Vegas Consortium stories.

The mind-boggling project designed to offer flood protection to a city built on bedrock and totally surrounded by mountains had begun in the seventies. The individual segments reminded Samantha of giant hollow Lego blocks made of concrete. Originally there was to be over a thousand miles of tunnels beneath Sin City. They were all designed to channel the waters of any flash flood that threatened the financial heart of the city into Lake Mead, some thirty miles away. The project was never finished, but there were still an impressive two hundred miles of storm tunnels beneath Vegas, and they now provided shelter for the homeless who didn’t mind playing the odds that their meager belongings wouldn’t get washed away in the next deluge. They had also provided a hiding place for murderers and thieves and who knew what else?

-- Buried Pleasures

That the tunnels, like most underground places, are steeped in urban legend and are such a powerful contrast to the glitz of the Strip above was enough to send my active imagination into fits of ecstasy. What if the storm tunnels were actually the realm of Hades, and he frequented them in the guise of a homeless man with a very large dog?

The other thing about Hades is that he’s also the god of wealth and hidden treasure, which makes perfect sense in that all precious stones and metals come from beneath the earth. In addition there are countless myths and legends of buried treasures in caves and deep underground places. Add to that the gamble it all and get rich quick mystique of Vegas and what better place for Hades to hang his hat? Buried Pleasures, itself is an exclusive, by invitation only, casino owned by Hades other alter ego, Jack Graves. Though the casino is invitation only, the guests who get invited are not always the ones you’d expect. Treasure Island has its volcano. The Bellagio has its fountains, the Venetian has its canals and boats. Buried Pleasures’ façade is the entrance to a storm tunnel, and for those who gamble it all and lose, it’s also the gateway to the realm where everybody is homeless.

Mixing myth with modernity has always fascinated me. The myths still resonate today because they are stories that speak to the human psyche of every era. The heaven and hell and afterlife of a modern myth would, no doubt have to involve urban decay and the chance to gamble everything for true wealth. But what would the god of death and wealth want that he doesn’t already have? Could it be that like everyone else, it’s issues of the heart that trouble him most? And when the person troubling his heart is the last siren, things are bound to get complicated.

Blurb

When Samantha Black shares her sandwich with a dog, his owner, Jon—a homeless man living in the Las Vegas storm tunnels—gives her a poker chip worth a fortune from the exclusive casino, Buried Pleasures. All Sam has to do is cash it in. Sam is in Vegas for one reason only—to get her friend, Evie Holt, away from sinister magician, Darian Fox, who holds her prisoner in an effort to force Sam to perform at his club, Illusions. A neon circus tent of strange and mystical acts, Illusions is one of the biggest draws in Vegas, and he’s hell-bent on including Sam in his disturbing plans.

The shadowy Magda Gardener will do anything to keep Sam from cashing in that chip. She knows that Buried Pleasures is the gate to Hades and cashing in the chip is a one-way ticket across the River Styx, which runs beneath the storm tunnels of Vegas. Jon is really Jack Graves, owner of Buried Pleasures, and Graves is really the god of death, himself, and if things aren’t already confusing enough, he and Magda know what Sam doesn’t. Sam is the last siren. That her song can kill is only the beginning of her story. Jon wants her safe on his side of the River, protected from Fox’s hideous magic. But even Death fears Magda Gardener, who is none other than Medusa, and the gorgon has her own agenda. If Sam is to understand her heritage and win the battle against Darian Fox, not only will she have to trust her heart to Death, but they’ll both have to work for the gorgon, whose connection with Sam runs deeper than any of them could imagine.

Excerpt – Not Entirely Human

Sam remembered Jon lifting her into his arms like she weighed nothing and carrying her into the bedroom. She remembered Gus sitting all Anubis-like in the hallway, as though he were guarding the temple. She remembered Jon shouldering his way through the gauze curtains into the big bed, and laying her down. Certainly she remembered him holding her and exploring her and allowing her to return the favor while they made love as though they had all the time in the world.

What she didn’t remember was an ending and, though she never wanted it to end, sooner or later it had to, didn’t it? Sooner or later she would be too weak and too tired to continue. After all, she was only human. Well, not exactly human, she recalled, stretching up into the waking world from dreamless sleep. A siren. She smiled at the thought. Not exactly human at all.

Her desire for Jon awakened with the memory. She reached out for him to discover she was alone in the big bed that smelled of the patchouli musk of sex and beneath that, the ozone and desert heat of Jon’s own scent. The clenching fear low in her belly that he’d left, or worse yet, she had only dreamed their encounter, relaxed as the weight near the foot of the bed shifted and whined softly, and she reached out a bare foot to touch thick, soft fur.

As she took in the darkened surroundings and the dance of the gauze curtains in the whisper of a breeze, she ran her toes down Gus’s sprawled flank. His leg twitched and he grunted in his sleep, then rearranged himself.

She pulled the throw from the foot of the bed out from under him, and he protested with a half-articulated woof, then went back to dreaming. Wrapped in the soft knit, she followed the path of candlelight down the hall. In the living room the balcony doors had been thrown open, and Jon leaned on the railing, looking out over the sleeping city.

Her heart dropped into her stomach at the sight of him, totally naked in the silver light of a pre-dawn moon, oblivious to the chill of early morning. He seemed enormous from where she stood, tall and hard-muscled, not heavily so, but lean and strong.

As she recalled his rescue of her, him carrying her through the storm tunnels, the thought occurred to her that he might well be less human than she was. But hadn’t she sensed that even before she sang for him? Hadn’t it been clear that whoever he was, whatever he was, he was not simply a man down on his luck living in the storm tunnels? Besides, if she was a siren, who knew what other things existed out there. Certainly Fox wasn’t human, and some of what she had sensed at Illusions, well, he wasn’t the only one there who wasn’t human.

Then there were the guardians Jon had set to watch her and keep her safe in this place. They were certainly not human, not even close. She couldn’t see them except in that strange periphery of vision that became visible only when she played or sang. In truth she was pretty sure she didn’t want to see them too well, and yet they didn’t frighten her, not if they served Jon.

He spoke without turning to face her. “I’m sorry I left you.” His chuckle was dark and rich at the back of his throat. “I lay there next to you watching you for a long time, but the urge to touch became so overwhelming that I thought I should leave you to rest. I know you’re worn out after the last thirty-six hours.”

The thought of Jon lying next to her, watching her sleep, made the muscles low in her belly clench and squirm and yield. She caught her breath. “I wouldn’t have minded if you woke me up.”

This time the chuckle was positively wicked. “So my little siren is as insatiable as I am then, is she?” He turned to face her, and there was definitely no hiding his own desire, as he invited her into his arms with a nod of his head. “I suspected that might be the case.”

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About K D Grace

Voted ETO Best Erotic Author of 2014, K D Grace believes Freud was right. It really IS all about sex -- sex and love – and that is an absolute writer’s playground.

When she’s not writing, K D is veg gardening or walking. Her creativity is directly proportional to how quickly she wears out a pair of walking boots. She loves mythology, which inspires many of her stories. She enjoys time in the gym, where she’s having a mad affair with a pair of kettle bells. Her first love is writing, but she loves reading and watching birds. She adores anything that gets her outdoors.

KD’s novels and other works are published by Totally Bound, SourceBooks, Accent Press, Harper Collins Mischief Books, Mammoth, Cleis Press, Black Lace, and others. She also writes romance under the name Grace Marshall.

Find K D Here:

Websites: http://kdgrace.co.uk/

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