Thanksgiving tends to make me nostalgic. This year found me digging out one of my old journals, from more than thirty years ago, an extremely critical period in my life. This was the era I might call my sexual awakening, when I first discovered my interest in dominance and submission. In fact, my first BDSM experience occurred on Thanksgiving - hence some of the nostalgia!
I was also making up for lost time as something of a shy wall flower. Over the course of about two years, I had multiple concurrent relationships as well as a number of more casual sexual encounters.
I guess my hormones were really raging.
I hadn't looked at these diaries in quite a while. In some ways, it's like reading the confessions of a stranger. It's hard to recall exactly how I felt back then. On the other hand, I'm impressed by how articulate this young woman seems to be, and also how concerned she is with the deeper meaning of things. The two primary topics in the journal are God and sex. The two get about equal time, and indeed are closely linked. I felt a strong connection between sex and spirituality, that my lovers were teaching me not only about myself but also about the nature of reality and the divine.
I'm still convinced of the existence of that link. That much at least is a constant. However, I have to smile at young Lisabet's intensity (and stamina!) She asks so many questions. How can I stop judging myself and others? How can I be truly creative? Is it really possible for me to love, in a sexual or romantic sense, more than person? Is my interest in submission something to fear or to celebrate? How can I be in the world and walk a spiritual path? How can I capture these peak, transformative experiences in words?
Re-reading my ruminations (along with the interspersed poems full of crossed-out words, the quotes from books I was reading, the description of my dreams), I'm struck by two revelations. First, I was writing erotica even then. I've always considered that the fantasies I penned in the nineties were my first forays into erotic authorship, but this diary contains quite a few accounts of my sexual adventures, more than a decade earlier. Second, even then I was much more interested in the emotional and psychic aspects of sex than the physical. I rarely write about what I and my lovers did together. Instead I wrote at length about how I - how we - felt together, what was running through my mind, the sense of communion I sometimes managed to achieve, or occasionally, the sense of alienation.
This remains characteristic of my erotic writing. Anyone who has read my work knows that although I can be graphic, I tend to focus on what is going on in my characters' heads and hearts. It's a bit funny for me to recognize this continuity with the soulful, horny young woman who wrote these journals. Perhaps I haven't changed as much as I thought.
Thursday, November 29, 2012
Wednesday, November 28, 2012
Discovering New Authors in Anthologies
By Kristina Wright (Guest Blogger)
I’m thrilled to be a guest at Beyond Romance. “Beyond romance” is what I’ve always written. Even when I envisioned myself to be a horror writer, I somehow managed to romanticize my stories. (Why, yes, she did kill and dismember him, but she still loved him!) I’m a romantic at heart—I really do believe in true love and soul mates—but what is romance without the passion? Even when I wrote my first romance novel for Harlequin, I managed to put too much sex in it and was asked (told) to edit out three love (sex) scenes. Oh, those were the days!Romance comes in an abundance flavors now, many of them erotic. In the past three years, I have had the privilege and pleasure of editing a number of erotic romance anthologies for Cleis Press. In that time, I’ve been introduced to a wide variety of phenomenal authors who are going beyond romance into the erotic, whether it’s writing fairy tale erotica for books like Fairy Tale Lust and Lustfully Ever After, or paranormal erotica for Dream Lover or steampunk erotica for Steamlust. Blending genres, going “beyond romance” to deliver hot, sexy stories, is what erotic romance is all about.
Thanks to this amazing job I have of editing anthologies, I’ve discovered authors like Delilah Devlin, Saskia Walker, Shanna Germain, Charlotte Stein, Lucy Felthouse and Michelle Augello-Page. Authors whose writing styles are vastly different, yet each capture my imagination with their erotically charged fiction. People often ask me why they should read anthologies—why read several short stories when you can read a novel? And my answer is this: a novel is a main course, you need to have the appetite for it in order to be able to finish it. We all have our favorite novelists, the “automatic buys” that we make without reservation. And we save those books for when we have time to read them, enjoy them, savor them. I may write and edit short fiction, but I do adore novels!
On the other hand, an anthology of short fiction is like a buffet of small plates. Appetizers meant to tease and tantalize, each story a delicious morsel to enjoy. You may know the author and devour this bit of her work, or it may be someone new you’ve never tried before—and you will discover a favorite new treat. On the other hand, there is always the chance you might come across something not to your liking and in that case, you still have quite a variety of other tidbits to choose from. And should you find a new favorite author among the offerings of an anthology, there is always the joy of discovering a backlist (as so many short story authors are also quite prolific) of which you can make an entire three course meal!
Blurb
The only thing stronger than the call of duty is the call of desire! This anthology of military erotic romance serves up a team of hot-blooded men (and women) from every branch of the military who serve their country and follow their hearts wherever they might be stationed. When the mission is done, the unit is recalled or the ship pulls into port, they set their sights on a new target—the pursuit of passion and love. In and out of uniform, stateside and abroad, these military warriors meet passion and danger head on. All’s fair in love and war—in and out of uniform. Edited by Kristina Wright, wife of a Lieutenant in the U.S. Navy, Duty and Desire includes stories of soldiers, sailors, aviators, Marines, Special Forces, and many more. Uniforms have never been sexier!
With contributed stories by Delilah Devlin, Connie Wilkins, Shanna Germain, Craig J. Sorensen, Ericka Hiatt, Kelly Maher, Lucy Felthouse, Catherine Paulssen, Anya Richards, Sacchi Green, Elizabeth L. Brooks, J.K. Coi, Charlotte Stein, Christine D’Abo, Mercy Loomis, Lynn Townsend, Michelle Augello-Page, and Kristina Wright.
Editor Bio
Links:
http://www.kristinawright.com
http://ohgetagrip.blogspot.com
Monday, November 26, 2012
Prophecy of the Undead
[My sneak peak today is a Mayan vampire romance by Fiona McGier, entitled Prophecy of the Undead. Enjoy! ~ Lisabet]
Blurb
Available in print soon!
Excerpt
Keisha wakes up to find herself tied up
in the trunk of a car, and futilely tries to escape while the men had
to walk to a gas station when they ran out of gas. They've
returned:
The trunk opened and Keisha closed her eyes, hoping that if she appeared to be still unconscious, they would leave her alone.
The trunk opened and Keisha closed her eyes, hoping that if she appeared to be still unconscious, they would leave her alone.
She felt the tip of a gun against her
cheek as it stroked her face.
“Aw, she’s still out cold. That’s no fun.”
“Just feel her up then let’s get
out of here. I’m getting a weird feeling that we’re being
watched...”
“By who? There’s no one else out in
this God-forsaken...what the fuck?”
Keisha heard a swooshing sound and
opened her eyes to see a blur of movement. There was a snarling
growl, combined with the yells of real fear, coming from her two
tormentors.
“Kill the bitch!.”
She felt the gun stuck into her ribs
and held her breath, waiting for death. The gun fired. The bullet
tore its way through her skin and chest muscles, burned through her
lung, and severed arteries as it lodged in her heart. She found it
difficult to let out the breath or to breathe in any more air.
There was the awful sound of breaking
bones...then silence.
Someone leaned over into the trunk and
lifted her gently out as if she was as light as a child. She felt
herself being laid on the ground and fought to breathe as her blood
pulsed out of her through the chest wound, soaking her clothes and
making them stick to her. Her rescuer tore through the knots that she
was unable to budge. She tried to thank him with her last gasps of
air.
“Tha...thanks.” She choked on her
own blood and her head swam.
“Keisha, look at me,” he commanded
in a voice that sounded vaguely familiar, but very distant, as if she
was moving far away from him.
She tried to focus her gaze but merely
saw the outlines of a man’s torso, with a face barely visible,
topped with white hair that shone in the dim moonlight.
“I had hoped to spare you this but I
have no other choice now. I can’t lose you...I won’t. You must
choose right now, before it’s too late. Do you want to live?”
In her mind she giggled but all that
came out of her mouth was a gargling sound.
“Um, yeah...don’t think...option
anymore...”
“Yes, it is. But if I do this thing,
you will be changed. You will be alive, yet not alive. Are you sure
you want me to do this?”
Her head nodded up and down as darkness
descended, her vision clouded by the blood that was everywhere now.
She drifted off and idly wondered if she was going anywhere or if she
was just going to lose consciousness and that would be the end of
thought.
Suddenly her mind was invaded by a
tall, blond man with an intense look in his eyes that shone with a
black fire in their depths.
What are you doing here? I’m busy
dying...who are you?
“You are dying but not in the way you
expect. What I’m doing is ensuring that you will wake up again
tomorrow night. What images would you like me to entertain you with
as your body dies?”
She tried to shrug but was unable to
move any part of her body.
She felt herself being held by strong arms, with the tiny hairs on her neck standing at full attention while the lips on her neck created a drowsy drugged feeling in her mind.
She felt herself being held by strong arms, with the tiny hairs on her neck standing at full attention while the lips on her neck created a drowsy drugged feeling in her mind.
“How about something erotic?”
Like?
She was suddenly on a downy-soft bed,
naked, with a man’s head between her thighs. His tongue was driving
her mad with desire as he alternated between licking her from front
to back, and nibbling on her clit gently. When his fingers pulled the
hood back and his teeth grazed her clit, she screamed with pleasure
as the orgasm crashed through her with the force of a tsunami. She
rose up off of the bed with the tightening of her muscles. Then the
man loomed before her, spread her thighs uncomfortably wide and his
hips surged forward. The pleasure she had just felt multiplied as his
massive organ pushed its way into her, stretching her almost beyond
comfort. He filled her, then withdrew only to slam into her again
and again. It was almost more than she could bear. She screamed as he
came, the force of his orgasm making her spasm with an intensity to
match his own.
He growled like a wild animal as he
pulsated inside of her. Her muscles clenched around him. Her orgasms
were like a roller coaster of pleasure, pushing her up a hill then
crashing her down on the other side.
The last thing she remembered was his voice telling her, "Drink. Drink deeply. Take as much as you can hold. I have emptied you; now, fill yourself with me."
I’m already filled with you.
Her thoughts were her own but inexplicably she felt his chest move as
he chuckled. Everything went black and she drifted off into
nothingness.
Bio: Fiona has always had
stories in her head, with characters telling her about their lives.
Often she wakes up with entire story arcs that she has to feverishly
write down before starting her day. Now that her four children are
erudite young adults, she hides from everyone for hours, bringing the
stories to life. She hopes that you enjoy your short trip into her
mind as you meet some of the heroines and heroes who live there, and
now on these pages also. If you want to read more, she has a series
of six contemporary romance books about the members of a large
Hispanic family, The Reyes Family Romances. She also wrote two books
about female spies who work for a top-secret international agency, as
well as two stand-alone contemporary romances. Visit her at:
www.fionamcgier.com, where the first page is her blog.
Sunday, November 25, 2012
A F/F Snog from Nasty Business
Books We Love has just released Nasty Business, a BDSM erotic novel with something for everyone...!
The book includes M/f, F/m and F/f scenes - even a little bit of M/M. It also offers several romantic relationships, though it doesn't fit the classic romance mold because there's too much action involving secondary characters.
Anyway, I've decided to pull this week's snog from the new book. Furthermore, I'm giving away a free copy to one lucky person who comments! Don't forget to leave your email address.
Oh, and you can read another snog from the book - M/F - here!
Once you've read and commented, slide over to Victoria Blisse's page and sample the other snogs from this week's authors!
Blurb
All's fair in lust and business
Ruby Maxwell Chen, lovely and ruthless CEO of a huge British business empire, is used to getting her way. When she encounters the strangely charismatic American entrepreneur Rick Martell, though, she wonders if she hasn't finally met her match.
From the trendy clubs of London to the Hollywood Hills, Ruby and Rick compete for ownership of a strategic factory in Malaysia. Neither has any qualms about using sexual wiles to smooth the path to success. Neither anticipates that their mutual attraction will turn into something far more intense and difficult to control.
As their struggle for dominance escalates, they draw their employees and associates into their outrageous power games. The stakes could scarcely be higher, as Ruby and Rick play for the ultimate prize: a night of total physical surrender.
Excerpt
The sun bakes my skin. I can feel the rays tracing paths of heat across my shoulders, my buttocks, my calves. It is soothing, soporific. I find myself drifting, my thoughts comfortably vague, my body washed in appealing sensation. I'm half-dreaming, remembering Liu's caresses, hearing his suggestive whispers.
A sharp floral scent teases me awake. I turn toward Luna. She lies on her side, chin propped on her hand, watching me with an intensity that sends electricity up my spine. I trace the sinuous line of her body with my eyes, admiring the way her hips flow away from her waist and then recede into the gentler curves of her thighs. Her arms and legs are fleeced with golden down that stirs slightly in the moving air. One platinum tress hangs over her shoulder and dangles between her breasts.
My chest is tight with nervousness, yet there is a dream-like inevitability about all of this. Luna lets her hand trail over her body, brushing her nipples on the way down to the cleft between her thighs and sending a bolt of lightning to my sex. Her pubic hair is so fair that her mound almost seems naked. Her coral-hued lips are clearly visible, even before she parts them with her fingers. Her gaze holds mine as her hand travels upward again, smearing her juices over her belly, pinching the swollen buds of her nipples. It is I who moans when she inserts one sticky finger into her mouth and sucks upon it.
"You're so beautiful, Margaret," she murmurs, dipping once again into the well of honey between her legs. "I want you so much. Don't you want me?" She holds her hand out to me, appealing, almost waif-like. Without thinking, I take her proffered fingers into my mouth.
Her taste is simultaneously strange and familiar. Pungent, salty, rich, wild, embarrassing and forbidden. My own juices spill over in response. She sees the evidence of my excitement and smiles at my silent answer. Lightly, she gathers a droplet from my thighs and licks it off her finger. Her eyes close as she savors me, and I am reminded of some flaxen-haired medieval angel, consumed by mystic ecstasy.
Sudden, fierce lust shatters my dreamy composure. I want her, want to take her, use her, devour her.
Slipping off my chaise, I kneel at her side and take her face in my hands. Then I suck her into a long, violent kiss that leaves us both breathless. With one hand I am twisting her nipple, while the other probes her drenched pussy. I've never done anything like this before, and yet I know what I am doing, know from touching myself how to touch her.
Luna whimpers under my assault, arches her body and tries to force my fingers deeper insider her. "Oh, yes, please, yes…"
"You like this, Luna?" She can't answer, she's too far gone, but I know that I am giving her what she wants. I've found the slippery nub of her clit. I roll it between my thumb and forefinger, kneading and twisting, pulling until her hips rise right off the chaise trying to follow. I am not gentle; she does not want gentleness.
I release her clit, giving her a moment's respite, then press my palm against her mound and push all four fingers into her cunt. She screams and I feel the shudders gathering in her flesh. I remove my hand completely. She whimpers in frustration, then sighs as I slip my index finger back into her folds and wiggle it playfully.
Her depths are lined with slick velvet. As I explore her, she shivers and moans. "More, please! More!" I lean down and take a cherry nipple between my lips, marveling at the nubby texture of the swollen flesh against my tongue. So sweet, so juicy, I cannot help biting down on that lush morsel. Luna yells and writhes against my hand. She grabs it by the wrist and tries to force all my fingers into her soaked cunt.
"Nasty girl," I say, pulling away from her. Her nipples pout insolently. On a whim, I slap one breast with an open palm. My own skin stings as I watch hers redden. Her eyes are closed, her lips half-open. As an experiment, I lay stinging blow on the opposite breast. Her pelvis jerks and grinds in response.
She wants it hard, wants it rough. I see this with sudden clarity. And I want to give it to her.
The book includes M/f, F/m and F/f scenes - even a little bit of M/M. It also offers several romantic relationships, though it doesn't fit the classic romance mold because there's too much action involving secondary characters.
Anyway, I've decided to pull this week's snog from the new book. Furthermore, I'm giving away a free copy to one lucky person who comments! Don't forget to leave your email address.
Oh, and you can read another snog from the book - M/F - here!
Once you've read and commented, slide over to Victoria Blisse's page and sample the other snogs from this week's authors!
Blurb
All's fair in lust and business
Ruby Maxwell Chen, lovely and ruthless CEO of a huge British business empire, is used to getting her way. When she encounters the strangely charismatic American entrepreneur Rick Martell, though, she wonders if she hasn't finally met her match.
From the trendy clubs of London to the Hollywood Hills, Ruby and Rick compete for ownership of a strategic factory in Malaysia. Neither has any qualms about using sexual wiles to smooth the path to success. Neither anticipates that their mutual attraction will turn into something far more intense and difficult to control.
As their struggle for dominance escalates, they draw their employees and associates into their outrageous power games. The stakes could scarcely be higher, as Ruby and Rick play for the ultimate prize: a night of total physical surrender.
Excerpt
The sun bakes my skin. I can feel the rays tracing paths of heat across my shoulders, my buttocks, my calves. It is soothing, soporific. I find myself drifting, my thoughts comfortably vague, my body washed in appealing sensation. I'm half-dreaming, remembering Liu's caresses, hearing his suggestive whispers.
A sharp floral scent teases me awake. I turn toward Luna. She lies on her side, chin propped on her hand, watching me with an intensity that sends electricity up my spine. I trace the sinuous line of her body with my eyes, admiring the way her hips flow away from her waist and then recede into the gentler curves of her thighs. Her arms and legs are fleeced with golden down that stirs slightly in the moving air. One platinum tress hangs over her shoulder and dangles between her breasts.
My chest is tight with nervousness, yet there is a dream-like inevitability about all of this. Luna lets her hand trail over her body, brushing her nipples on the way down to the cleft between her thighs and sending a bolt of lightning to my sex. Her pubic hair is so fair that her mound almost seems naked. Her coral-hued lips are clearly visible, even before she parts them with her fingers. Her gaze holds mine as her hand travels upward again, smearing her juices over her belly, pinching the swollen buds of her nipples. It is I who moans when she inserts one sticky finger into her mouth and sucks upon it.
"You're so beautiful, Margaret," she murmurs, dipping once again into the well of honey between her legs. "I want you so much. Don't you want me?" She holds her hand out to me, appealing, almost waif-like. Without thinking, I take her proffered fingers into my mouth.
Her taste is simultaneously strange and familiar. Pungent, salty, rich, wild, embarrassing and forbidden. My own juices spill over in response. She sees the evidence of my excitement and smiles at my silent answer. Lightly, she gathers a droplet from my thighs and licks it off her finger. Her eyes close as she savors me, and I am reminded of some flaxen-haired medieval angel, consumed by mystic ecstasy.
Sudden, fierce lust shatters my dreamy composure. I want her, want to take her, use her, devour her.
Slipping off my chaise, I kneel at her side and take her face in my hands. Then I suck her into a long, violent kiss that leaves us both breathless. With one hand I am twisting her nipple, while the other probes her drenched pussy. I've never done anything like this before, and yet I know what I am doing, know from touching myself how to touch her.
Luna whimpers under my assault, arches her body and tries to force my fingers deeper insider her. "Oh, yes, please, yes…"
"You like this, Luna?" She can't answer, she's too far gone, but I know that I am giving her what she wants. I've found the slippery nub of her clit. I roll it between my thumb and forefinger, kneading and twisting, pulling until her hips rise right off the chaise trying to follow. I am not gentle; she does not want gentleness.
I release her clit, giving her a moment's respite, then press my palm against her mound and push all four fingers into her cunt. She screams and I feel the shudders gathering in her flesh. I remove my hand completely. She whimpers in frustration, then sighs as I slip my index finger back into her folds and wiggle it playfully.
Her depths are lined with slick velvet. As I explore her, she shivers and moans. "More, please! More!" I lean down and take a cherry nipple between my lips, marveling at the nubby texture of the swollen flesh against my tongue. So sweet, so juicy, I cannot help biting down on that lush morsel. Luna yells and writhes against my hand. She grabs it by the wrist and tries to force all my fingers into her soaked cunt.
"Nasty girl," I say, pulling away from her. Her nipples pout insolently. On a whim, I slap one breast with an open palm. My own skin stings as I watch hers redden. Her eyes are closed, her lips half-open. As an experiment, I lay stinging blow on the opposite breast. Her pelvis jerks and grinds in response.
She wants it hard, wants it rough. I see this with sudden clarity. And I want to give it to her.
Saturday, November 24, 2012
Performance Season
By J.E. Taylor (Guest Blogger)
Now that November is almost to an end, between the frantic bouts of holiday shopping and the craziness that accompanies year-end, it’s time to reflect on 2012 and set goals for 2013.
In the work place, we complete performance assessments this time of year, so I’m used to doing a catalog of accomplishments for the day job and as much as I hate that exercise, the visual of the accomplished list always leaves me astonished. However, that rosy feeling dies a quick death when I have to categorize them into neat little buckets representing the company’s core values.
This is the first time I’ve taken stock of what I achieved this year on the publishing front, so bear with me…
I surpassed 11,000 paid sales as of the end of September and overall downloads (sales and freebies) topped over 200,000 since January of 2011. I did a summer free run of Vengeance and it hit the number one spot in free suspense novels for a couple days, but more important, it remained in the top 100 free suspense novels for its entire free run.
In 2012, I released 4 new books, which brings my total novel count to 15, including 2 short story anthologies and 2 e-book box sets released this year in addition to the 4 new novels. I also took a good look at some of the negative feedback themes surrounding the first two books in the Steve Williams series and re-released new editions of both Dark Reckoning and Vengeance to address some of the more “offensive” scenes.
With releases comes promotions, and with the help of many wonderful bloggers, I was able to have guest spots and interviews on over fifty blogs this year. This requires writing a fair amount of interesting posts about writing, family life, and the like or answering numerous questions in new and fresh ways so folks won’t get bored reading my ramblings.
On the “giving back” front, I continue to hold a role as Senior Editor over at Allegory E-zine and as such, read over 125 Allegory submissions, helping the managing editor whittle down those finalists as well as the slush pile. I also enjoy judging contests for Romance Writers Association and managed to fit some 26 contest entries in this year. There are an awful lot of talented writers out there and I love being a part of their discovery.
Which leads me to our publishing company, Novel Concept Publishing, LLC.
As co-owner of this small e-press, I act as acquisitions editor, content editor, formatter, and review coordinator. My partner does the business end and keeps our website going and is much more prolific with his writing than I am with mine. We were blessed with four new releases this year and another coming up in December. We also have two on tap for early 2013. This means I’ve also waded through a good many submissions for NCP along with at least a dozen full submissions.
As I look back over this accounting for the year, it leaves me breathless, and when you couple it with a full time job, two kids, one that went to college this fall and the other is still in middle school with activities galore, even I think I’m insane. Most of the time I’m running around like a crazy woman.
Imagine what I could accomplish if I drank coffee… ;-)
One of my author’s calls me superwoman and it makes me chuckle. Nah, I’m just good at time management and my family has taken up a great deal of the slack while I’ve run this marathon.
I know I’ve said it before, but what I need to find is a balance between work and play time. So, for 2013, my personal publishing goals are a bit more manageable. Two books – the second in my son’s Death Chronicles Series and a novel called Fallen that takes the reader through Ty Ryan’s downfall.
As far as the Steve Williams Series, well, Saving Face was meant to be the end of that saga, however, the characters are still making a bit of a racket, so perhaps there may be another book on the horizon, but that isn’t on the list until late 2013 or early 2014. In the meantime, if you haven’t had a chance, check out Saving Face…here’s the book description and an excerpt to whet your whistle…
In the work place, we complete performance assessments this time of year, so I’m used to doing a catalog of accomplishments for the day job and as much as I hate that exercise, the visual of the accomplished list always leaves me astonished. However, that rosy feeling dies a quick death when I have to categorize them into neat little buckets representing the company’s core values.
This is the first time I’ve taken stock of what I achieved this year on the publishing front, so bear with me…
I surpassed 11,000 paid sales as of the end of September and overall downloads (sales and freebies) topped over 200,000 since January of 2011. I did a summer free run of Vengeance and it hit the number one spot in free suspense novels for a couple days, but more important, it remained in the top 100 free suspense novels for its entire free run.
In 2012, I released 4 new books, which brings my total novel count to 15, including 2 short story anthologies and 2 e-book box sets released this year in addition to the 4 new novels. I also took a good look at some of the negative feedback themes surrounding the first two books in the Steve Williams series and re-released new editions of both Dark Reckoning and Vengeance to address some of the more “offensive” scenes.
With releases comes promotions, and with the help of many wonderful bloggers, I was able to have guest spots and interviews on over fifty blogs this year. This requires writing a fair amount of interesting posts about writing, family life, and the like or answering numerous questions in new and fresh ways so folks won’t get bored reading my ramblings.
On the “giving back” front, I continue to hold a role as Senior Editor over at Allegory E-zine and as such, read over 125 Allegory submissions, helping the managing editor whittle down those finalists as well as the slush pile. I also enjoy judging contests for Romance Writers Association and managed to fit some 26 contest entries in this year. There are an awful lot of talented writers out there and I love being a part of their discovery.
Which leads me to our publishing company, Novel Concept Publishing, LLC.
As co-owner of this small e-press, I act as acquisitions editor, content editor, formatter, and review coordinator. My partner does the business end and keeps our website going and is much more prolific with his writing than I am with mine. We were blessed with four new releases this year and another coming up in December. We also have two on tap for early 2013. This means I’ve also waded through a good many submissions for NCP along with at least a dozen full submissions.
As I look back over this accounting for the year, it leaves me breathless, and when you couple it with a full time job, two kids, one that went to college this fall and the other is still in middle school with activities galore, even I think I’m insane. Most of the time I’m running around like a crazy woman.
Imagine what I could accomplish if I drank coffee… ;-)
One of my author’s calls me superwoman and it makes me chuckle. Nah, I’m just good at time management and my family has taken up a great deal of the slack while I’ve run this marathon.
I know I’ve said it before, but what I need to find is a balance between work and play time. So, for 2013, my personal publishing goals are a bit more manageable. Two books – the second in my son’s Death Chronicles Series and a novel called Fallen that takes the reader through Ty Ryan’s downfall.
As far as the Steve Williams Series, well, Saving Face was meant to be the end of that saga, however, the characters are still making a bit of a racket, so perhaps there may be another book on the horizon, but that isn’t on the list until late 2013 or early 2014. In the meantime, if you haven’t had a chance, check out Saving Face…here’s the book description and an excerpt to whet your whistle…
The Windwalker serial killer stalks the inlets of southern Maine for the next beauty to advance his collection and Special Agent Steve Williams is frustrated with always being a breath behind the slippery psychopath. Escalating the pressure, Steve’s adopted sons, CJ and Tom Ryan, take teenage rebellion to an entirely new level, leaving Steve in an explosive situation.
When the Windwalker slaughters Tom’s ex-girlfriend, taking her face as a macabre trinket, Tom is found on the scene covered in her blood, with her scalped body draped across his lap. Damning evidence against him is unearthed, his father's secret identity is about to be exposed, and he's charged with Tanya’s traumatic murder.
To prove his innocence, their only hope is the worst-case scenario; for the Windwalker to harvest a new face.
Saving Face on Amazon
Saving Face on Barnes & Noble
Saving Face on Smashwords
Saving Face on Kobo books
When the Windwalker slaughters Tom’s ex-girlfriend, taking her face as a macabre trinket, Tom is found on the scene covered in her blood, with her scalped body draped across his lap. Damning evidence against him is unearthed, his father's secret identity is about to be exposed, and he's charged with Tanya’s traumatic murder.
To prove his innocence, their only hope is the worst-case scenario; for the Windwalker to harvest a new face.
Saving Face on Amazon
Saving Face on Barnes & Noble
Saving Face on Smashwords
Saving Face on Kobo books
Excerpt
“You are ruining my life!” C. J. Ryan bellowed.
Steve Williams crossed his arms and stood his ground. “I don’t care. You snuck out of the house after I said you couldn’t go to that party. You knew damn well I’d find out, and now both you and your brother are grounded until graduation.” His gaze traveled to CJ’s mute brother, Tom. “And you, what were you thinking, stealing that car?”
Tom thrust his hands in his pockets and stared at the ground.
Steve clenched his teeth together and glanced out the observation window at the Brooksfield police department pit.
“You can’t ground me. You’re not my father.”
His gaze snapped back to CJ and he tilted his head, narrowing his eyes. “I may not be your biological father, but don’t ever doubt my authority here.”
“It’s your fault my parents are dead.”
The mental shove made Steve stumble back a step and he caught himself. In two strides, he stood toe to toe with CJ, his gaze blazing into the azure blue of the seventeen-year-old’s equally furious eyes.
“You really want to play that game with me?” he asked, his voice low, almost a growl, but the kid struck a chord. His father had been caught in the cross fire of one of his FBI investigations and his mother, his mother was a completely different story. He had led her right into the belly of the beast.
CJ dropped his gaze, his eyes traveling to Tom’s before he gave a slight shake of his head.
“Why’d you let him steal a car?”
CJ sighed and shrugged, all the hellfire burned out of him for the moment.
“Why?” Steve asked and stepped back, addressing Tom.
I wanted to see my dad. Tom thought, meeting his questioning stare.
“Bullshit.” Steve shook his head. You see him all the time. You probably can see him pacing the room behind me. Can’t you?
Tom’s gaze moved from Steve’s to the angry angel pacing the room behind him. Wings fluttered and a wealth of curses dropped from his lips, his iridescent blue eyes glaring at the two boys. Tom nodded. I wanted to talk with him.
“You could have asked me to bring you here.” Steve softened. It had been a couple months since they visited Paradise Cove. The magical portal where their father could speak to them, to see them, and where Tom had a ghost tongue along with the miraculous recovery of speech. It was the only place on earth that he could articulate his thoughts since the psycho in Georgia had cut his tongue out.
But neither boy had the same mental bond Steve had with their father. Their father was now his guardian angel, a constant presence intruding on his every thought. Steve could hear Ty Ryan any time of day or night, even times when he’d rather not have the voice of reason on his shoulder. Sometimes he wished for the blessed silence he knew before he met the Ryan family. The absolute cluelessness to the thoughts around him, to the ghost haunting his every waking minute, and to the powers he inherited when Ty died. Reading minds came in handy as an FBI agent, but the constant din in his head was maddening.
“You’ve been too wrapped up in that case to take us,” CJ answered.
That case. He almost laughed at the venom in CJ’s voice. That case shrouded his life, leaving time for nothing else and he missed more football games and nights of homework and family time his wife set aside, because of that stinking case.
Another killer was loose. The Windwalker eluded the police, eluded the FBI, and eluded him like he was made of smoke. They had gotten to the last victim minutes after she died. With her body still warm, they scoured the woods for clues, but the tracks disappeared at the bank of the river, just like every other dead, skinned body they found. Stealth, like fog rolling from the snow during strawberry spring, in and out quickly before the victim really knew what happened, and it burned him. Becoming a mission. An obsession.
CJ knew how frustrated he was and to bring it up here was just his attempt to get a rise out of him, to skirt the real issue.
He ignored the dig. “So you sneak out of the house, crash that party, have a few beers and decide it would be a great idea to steal a car?” Exasperated, he traded glances with the boys. “You crossed state lines. Do you have any idea how serious this is?”
CJ started to speak then closed his mouth. He sank into the chair, fidgeting with his parent’s wedding bands, which he wore on the chain around his neck. Tom followed suit taking the seat next to his brother.
I’m sorry. It was my idea, not CJ’s.
“Grand theft auto is serious and you two are close enough to eighteen for the courts to look at this as an opportunity to teach a hard lesson.” He slid into the chair on the other side of the table and leaned forward. “I had to pull a lot of strings to make this disappear, but this is the last time I will bail you out. You hear me?” He pounded his index finger on the table, punctuating his words. “The last time!”
“You are ruining my life!” C. J. Ryan bellowed.
Steve Williams crossed his arms and stood his ground. “I don’t care. You snuck out of the house after I said you couldn’t go to that party. You knew damn well I’d find out, and now both you and your brother are grounded until graduation.” His gaze traveled to CJ’s mute brother, Tom. “And you, what were you thinking, stealing that car?”
Tom thrust his hands in his pockets and stared at the ground.
Steve clenched his teeth together and glanced out the observation window at the Brooksfield police department pit.
“You can’t ground me. You’re not my father.”
His gaze snapped back to CJ and he tilted his head, narrowing his eyes. “I may not be your biological father, but don’t ever doubt my authority here.”
“It’s your fault my parents are dead.”
The mental shove made Steve stumble back a step and he caught himself. In two strides, he stood toe to toe with CJ, his gaze blazing into the azure blue of the seventeen-year-old’s equally furious eyes.
“You really want to play that game with me?” he asked, his voice low, almost a growl, but the kid struck a chord. His father had been caught in the cross fire of one of his FBI investigations and his mother, his mother was a completely different story. He had led her right into the belly of the beast.
CJ dropped his gaze, his eyes traveling to Tom’s before he gave a slight shake of his head.
“Why’d you let him steal a car?”
CJ sighed and shrugged, all the hellfire burned out of him for the moment.
“Why?” Steve asked and stepped back, addressing Tom.
I wanted to see my dad. Tom thought, meeting his questioning stare.
“Bullshit.” Steve shook his head. You see him all the time. You probably can see him pacing the room behind me. Can’t you?
Tom’s gaze moved from Steve’s to the angry angel pacing the room behind him. Wings fluttered and a wealth of curses dropped from his lips, his iridescent blue eyes glaring at the two boys. Tom nodded. I wanted to talk with him.
“You could have asked me to bring you here.” Steve softened. It had been a couple months since they visited Paradise Cove. The magical portal where their father could speak to them, to see them, and where Tom had a ghost tongue along with the miraculous recovery of speech. It was the only place on earth that he could articulate his thoughts since the psycho in Georgia had cut his tongue out.
But neither boy had the same mental bond Steve had with their father. Their father was now his guardian angel, a constant presence intruding on his every thought. Steve could hear Ty Ryan any time of day or night, even times when he’d rather not have the voice of reason on his shoulder. Sometimes he wished for the blessed silence he knew before he met the Ryan family. The absolute cluelessness to the thoughts around him, to the ghost haunting his every waking minute, and to the powers he inherited when Ty died. Reading minds came in handy as an FBI agent, but the constant din in his head was maddening.
“You’ve been too wrapped up in that case to take us,” CJ answered.
That case. He almost laughed at the venom in CJ’s voice. That case shrouded his life, leaving time for nothing else and he missed more football games and nights of homework and family time his wife set aside, because of that stinking case.
Another killer was loose. The Windwalker eluded the police, eluded the FBI, and eluded him like he was made of smoke. They had gotten to the last victim minutes after she died. With her body still warm, they scoured the woods for clues, but the tracks disappeared at the bank of the river, just like every other dead, skinned body they found. Stealth, like fog rolling from the snow during strawberry spring, in and out quickly before the victim really knew what happened, and it burned him. Becoming a mission. An obsession.
CJ knew how frustrated he was and to bring it up here was just his attempt to get a rise out of him, to skirt the real issue.
He ignored the dig. “So you sneak out of the house, crash that party, have a few beers and decide it would be a great idea to steal a car?” Exasperated, he traded glances with the boys. “You crossed state lines. Do you have any idea how serious this is?”
CJ started to speak then closed his mouth. He sank into the chair, fidgeting with his parent’s wedding bands, which he wore on the chain around his neck. Tom followed suit taking the seat next to his brother.
I’m sorry. It was my idea, not CJ’s.
“Grand theft auto is serious and you two are close enough to eighteen for the courts to look at this as an opportunity to teach a hard lesson.” He slid into the chair on the other side of the table and leaned forward. “I had to pull a lot of strings to make this disappear, but this is the last time I will bail you out. You hear me?” He pounded his index finger on the table, punctuating his words. “The last time!”
***
Thanks for having me
on your blog today!
Until next time,
Ciao
JET
Thursday, November 22, 2012
Unexpected Blessings
I have a lot to be grateful for this Thanksgiving. Both my husband and I are relatively healthy, especially for our ages. We have great jobs that provide intellectual stimulation and the rewards of doing something socially worthwhile, while producing a relatively low level of stress. Our apartment, though old and a bit battered around the edges, is roomy, comfortable and very affordable. We don't need a car; our place is located in the heart of the city, where we can walk to public transit. For many services, we don't even need to do that - they're just a short stroll away.
Ten years ago, we were jobless and in debt. Today we don't owe anybody anything - and we've even got a some savings.
I've got friends around the world, and a family with whom I'm very close, even though we're separated by a lot of physical distance. I just Skyped with my brother and sister this morning. To me it's a kind of miracle that I can talk to both of them, as long as I want, for free... once we figure out the time zone differences, that is!
I've always been an optimist, so in some sense I'm not surprised that my life has turned out well. I figured I'd have a rewarding career. I thought it likely that I'd have a series of companions, rather than a single long-term spouse, but I always assumed I'd be in a romantic relationship. I'm one of those fortunate souls who grew up loved and carried that into adulthood.
Reflecting on all my blessings today, though, I realize that there's at least one set I never expected. I didn't plan to become an author. It just sort of happened. Unlike some authors, I never considered writing as anything more than a delightful diversion from my "real" work. I created and submitted my first novel on a whim. I was astonished when it was accepted. Being a professional writer really wasn't part of the plan for my life.
Today, I have seven novels to my credit (with another in progress) and so many shorter works that I've lost count. This blog Beyond Romance will be three years old next week. During that time I've published nearly 750 posts and received almost 95,000 page views. Writing, editing, blogging and hanging out with my readers and my writer friends has become a huge part of my world - and one that I deeply cherish. Who would have guessed?
It's incredible to look back upon all the breaks I've gotten, all the lucky little twists of fate that brought Lisabet Sarai into being and have allowed her come as far as she has. I have indeed been blessed, and this Thanksgiving, I'm especially grateful for this wonderful, unexpected gift, the ability to write, publish, and touch people's hearts.
May you all be as blessed as I have been!
Ten years ago, we were jobless and in debt. Today we don't owe anybody anything - and we've even got a some savings.
I've got friends around the world, and a family with whom I'm very close, even though we're separated by a lot of physical distance. I just Skyped with my brother and sister this morning. To me it's a kind of miracle that I can talk to both of them, as long as I want, for free... once we figure out the time zone differences, that is!
I've always been an optimist, so in some sense I'm not surprised that my life has turned out well. I figured I'd have a rewarding career. I thought it likely that I'd have a series of companions, rather than a single long-term spouse, but I always assumed I'd be in a romantic relationship. I'm one of those fortunate souls who grew up loved and carried that into adulthood.
Reflecting on all my blessings today, though, I realize that there's at least one set I never expected. I didn't plan to become an author. It just sort of happened. Unlike some authors, I never considered writing as anything more than a delightful diversion from my "real" work. I created and submitted my first novel on a whim. I was astonished when it was accepted. Being a professional writer really wasn't part of the plan for my life.
Today, I have seven novels to my credit (with another in progress) and so many shorter works that I've lost count. This blog Beyond Romance will be three years old next week. During that time I've published nearly 750 posts and received almost 95,000 page views. Writing, editing, blogging and hanging out with my readers and my writer friends has become a huge part of my world - and one that I deeply cherish. Who would have guessed?
It's incredible to look back upon all the breaks I've gotten, all the lucky little twists of fate that brought Lisabet Sarai into being and have allowed her come as far as she has. I have indeed been blessed, and this Thanksgiving, I'm especially grateful for this wonderful, unexpected gift, the ability to write, publish, and touch people's hearts.
May you all be as blessed as I have been!
Wednesday, November 21, 2012
My Secret Romance Habit
By Annabeth Leong (Guest Blogger)
Thanks so much to
Lisabet for kindly hosting me again on Beyond Romance. The last time
I was here, I was promoting a dark tale of stranger sex. And now for
something completely different...
***
I came to romance
as an act of rebellion. About three years ago, I forced myself to buy
several category romance books from a physical bookstore. My heart
has never pounded so hard, not even the first time I went collared to
a fetish event. I then continued my personal dare by making myself
read them in public, proudly, covers visible.
By that point,
I'd been reading and enjoying romance for years online. Even as a
punked-out literary teenager, I sneakily read romances in the
bookstore where I worked, but you wouldn't have caught me dead with
one on my bookshelf.
As an adult, I
came to romance through the back door of erotica. Reading and writing
erotica opened my eyes to sexual experiences portrayed in a wide
variety of modes — romantic, ecstatic, dark, hopeful. Erotic
romance introduced me to the idea of the HEA or HFN, the exact sort
of genre convention that I'd always thought precluded tackling
serious subjects. Except that, as I experimented with reading in the
genre, I found plenty of books that I liked, and eventually edged
into reading and loving the romance books I couldn't let myself enjoy
when I was younger. Plenty of them tackled heavy subjects — it's
just that they worked around to a solution by the time the ending
came around.
It's hard to
describe how I feel when I pull out a romance in public now. For me,
it's a way to play with my own comfort, to let myself inhabit an
image of femininity that I've always had trouble with. I'd have an
easier time sitting on a crowded train with Best
Bondage Erotica 2013 prominently
displayed than I would sitting there with a paperback with the
traditional beefcake cover. To my mind, the erotica collection says
I'm worldly, sexy, edgy. The beefcake says I'm romantic, vulnerable,
and naive.
It's very hard
for me to be vulnerable, and what opens a person up more than
admitting to the desire for committed love?
My latest
release, Not His Territory,
is the most unabashed romance I've written. There's explicit sex, but
for me the part of the writing process that made me feel really
exposed was the belief in love, the idea that the hero and heroine
can really get away with trying to heal each other. It was hard to
write a story where the decision to run off together could be a happy
ending, not a stupid decision.
I can't seem to
resist heavy subjects, and they're not absent from this story. At the
beginning, the heroine is being stalked by her ex-husband. The hero
works for an organization that doesn't care about people, and that
never improves.
I've experienced
some hard times in life, and they make me want to toughen up with
cynicism. I've seen people who believe in happy endings and get hurt
over and over. But I wouldn't be an honest writer if I claimed I only
get bad outcomes. In my life, as a reader, and as a writer, there's a
place for happy endings even if they scare the hell out of me.
If you look
through my list of published work, you'll find some dark stuff. I'm
glad to get the chance to share my darker work with readers — happy
endings can be a sort of tyranny if they're forced. On the other
hand, a darker ending isn't automatically the smarter one.
Writing Not
His Territory challenged me, and
gave me a chance to stretch my writing in a new direction. Love can
feel like two against the world, ready to stand together and fight
and overcome. Sometimes, that feeling is right, and I'm glad there's
a genre devoted to exploring that.
By the way, I'm giving away a copy of Not His Territory to one lucky person who comments. Don't forget to include your email address in the text of your comment!
By the way, I'm giving away a copy of Not His Territory to one lucky person who comments. Don't forget to include your email address in the text of your comment!
***
Blurb
The Werewolf
Council disapproves. Chandra is strictly off-limits for Raul
according to both the traditions and laws of the werewolves. But
after a life devoted to upholding principles, Raul’s instincts and
desires are boiling to the surface. Can Raul resist Chandra, or will
he break with everything he stands for to pursue a woman who is not
his territory?
***
Excerpt
"Can I take
off his marking? I'm glad it kept you safe, but I'm not his
territory. It's not his house. I pay for it."
Raul's eyes took
on a strange weight. Chandra shivered, too aware of his body. "I
wish it were that simple."
"Why isn't
it? I can buy spray paint and cover up his mark."
"A territory
dispute must be resolved on the full moon in the ancient way."
"The ancient
way?"
"A
challenge. A battle for control. It's done in fully shifted form."
"Well, I'm
not a werewolf. What am I supposed to do?"
"We're set
up to be self-policing. Your ex shouldn't be behaving the way he is.
Marriages to humans are somewhat frowned upon and are supposed to be
done with full knowledge and consent on the part of the human. This
obviously wasn't how he did it with you, since you know nothing of
our customs. A human has good reason to be wary of marrying one of
us, though. Werewolf law often resorts to the ancient way for final
arbitration. A human is at a disadvantage in any dispute with one of
us. It's much easier when we keep to ourselves." Both of Raul's
hands gripped the tablecloth now. Chandra wondered what part of this
upset him so much.
"So you're
saying he shouldn't have married me."
"Not if he
planned to treat you this way." Raul's voice came out as a
snarl.
"I mean,
because it breaks werewolf law."
"It's not
that a werewolf can't be with a human," Raul said. His emphasis
on the words "be with" sent a chill down her inner thighs.
"It just needs to be done properly." Now Chandra grabbed
her own handful of tablecloth. She needed to figure out how to get
free of her ex, not become distracted wondering what Raul would
consider the "proper" way to be with a human.
"Okay,
well." Chandra's voice shook. She forced herself to look at a
spot on the wall beyond Raul. If she looked directly at the man,
she'd be off on another fantasy before she knew what hit her. "Since
that's water under the bridge at this point, isn't there any way to
dispute his claim on my house?"
Raul's hand
brushed hers. Chandra jumped. "Another werewolf could dispute on
your behalf. I could do that for you. If you wanted. I owe you my
life as it is."
Chandra waited
for him to move his hand away. He did not. She went on speaking
anyway, despite the bolts of arousal shooting through her lower
belly. "And what then? Am I—I mean, my house—is my house
your
territory if you win?" Her arms trembled. The idea of being his
territory sounded medieval to her brain, but her body loved it.
Enough that she involuntarily crossed her legs and squeezed them
together, further igniting the heat between her thighs.
"In theory,"
Raul said slowly. "I suppose so. In practice, only if you want
it to be." He smiled. "I'm a werewolf, not a caveman."
Available from:
***
Bio
Annabeth Leong
has written romance and erotica of many flavors -- dark, kinky,
vanilla, straight, lesbian, bi, and menage. In addition to Not His
Territory, Breathless Press published her werewolf story, “The
Arcadian Cure,” in its Ravaged anthology. For a complete list of
her published work, visit her blog. She particularly enjoys playing
off myth, legend, fairy tales, and fantastic history. She believes
passionately in freedom of speech, rights for people of all sexual
orientations, and freedom of religion. She lives in Providence, Rhode
Island, blogs at annabethleong.blogspot.com, and tweets
@AnnabethLeong
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