Write What You Know? Or Love?

By Andrea R. Cooper (Guest Blogger)

I have heard the words ‘write what you know’ often. However, there is another side to that. 
 

Love.

I know the 21^st century, Texas, my children, housework (even if I do hate cleaning, but love the result), etc. But if I wrote about these topics, I would be bored as a writer. Why? Because as much as I love my kids, my state, and the wonderful gadgets we have, I do not love these from the aspect of being a writer.

If I wrote these ‘known’ things, I would have given up writing because the passion would be absent.

However, if I love something from a writing aspect, the motivation would (hopefully) be evident within the text and my enthusiasm translated to the reader.

If you love something, I believe that will come through in your writing. For example, when I lived with my parents, I was not allowed to watch or read anything with magic, fantasy, or paranormal.

Not even Disney.

So naturally, I was addicted to them. However, I never read J.R.R. Tolkien, George R.R. Martin, R.A. Salvator, or even C.S. Lewis. Instead, I created characters and stories on my own. I was an adult and had finished writing all four books in my Legends of Oblivion Series before I read these great authors. Yet, a few wonderful reviewers have compared my debut novel to theirs. Which I am humbled and honored.

Some of my fantasy world was instinctual. I remember as a child watching at school (because I could not watch it at home) the tale of the Shoemaker and the Elves. However, I did not like the idea of Elves being tiny. To me, they were the size of people or maybe slightly taller. 

When I saw Lord of the Rings in the theater, I got excited that one of the world’s best fantasy authors had the same vision of Elves that I did. 
 

I also adore historical fiction and especially historical romance. I turned to these books in my teens because my favorite genre (fantasy, paranormal) were forbidden. It also helped that I had a wonderful 9^th grade World History teacher ;)

Though I have never been part of history before I was born, the ‘love’ of ancient times has given me enough of the ‘know’ to write. To me, it is the story and characters, which come first, and then I research everything that I need to put the story together.

Sometimes history is full of plot twists. My first novel I wrote was a Native American historical romance set in the late 1830’s. Then I started thinking about the parents of these characters—since the hero’s mother was French. How did she arrive here and married to a Native American?

This promoted me to write the prequel and in answering this and other questions, I found out about the War of 1812. Even though it was not originally part of my plot, when I read that the English burned the President’s House (the White House now), I had to add it into the story.

So I say, if you love something, then you will not only create the ‘know’ from facts and research, but have the desire to discover and write. And that will translate from the pages to your readers.

What about you? Do you believe in one or the other or both?

[All photos are from Google Images with License: Free to use, share or modify, even commercially]

The Garnet Dagger Blurb

Everyone knows what happens when a vampire bites a human…but what if the victim is Elvin?

Forbidden to cross the Elvin barrier into human lands, Brock cannot sate his curiosity. Cursed by a vampyre bite that forces him to feed on the life-essence of others, he is unable to touch another without taking their life. Chained by prophesy, he must find a witch, pierce her heart, and draw her blood for his cure.

Celeste must escape the monks who have held her prisoner for years. Her magic has been kept dormant by her captors. An ancient powerful Warloc craves her powers. If he succeeds in devouring her magic, she and his world will die.

When Brock falls in love with Celeste before realizing her demise is his cure, will love triumph over his desire to be healed? Will he risk everything to save her from a Warloc, an oath breaker, who also wants her dead?

Viking Fire Blurb

In 856 CE, Ireland is a land of myth, magic, and blood. Viking raiders have fought the Irish for over half a century. Rival Irish clans promise only betrayal and carnage.

Kaireen, daughter of Laird Liannon, is suddenly forced into an arranged marriage with her sworn enemy, a Viking. She refuses to submit. With no mention of love, only land and the protection of her clan, she endeavors to get her betrothed banished from her country. Will love find its way around her stubborn heart?

Bram, the Viking, finds himself without future or inheritance as a younger son in his family. A marriage to the Laird’s daughter would grant him land if he swears fidelity and if his men will fight along with the Liannons against any foe—Irish or Viking. However, the Laird’s feisty daughter only holds animosity for him and his kind. Is marriage worth the battle scars of such a relentless opponent?

With the blame for a rival laird’s death treacherously set against the Liannons, Kaireen and Bram must find a way to lay aside their differences as an unforeseen darkness sends death snapping at their heels.

Excerpt from Viking Fire

“I renounce Father for this.” Kaireen threw the elderberry gown.

“Shame on you and your children for speaking such.” Her handmaid, Elva, gathered the damask and then dusted off the rushes. “It’s a wonder one of the clim has not scolded you from your hearth for such talk.”

“No, curse Father for a fool.” She plopped on her bed and a goose feather floated away. With a huff, she leaned against the oak headboard. Red curtains puffed like a robin’s chest around oak poles supporting her wooden canopy.

Her bare feet brushed against the stone floor.

“You know your da arranged a marriage within a season.” Elva smirked.

Kaireen shook her head. “To another land holder,” and waved a hand in disgust, “not t-this heathen. Twice they raided our land in the last month alone. Now father wants me as wife to one of them?” She clenched her fists. “No, I will not marry this Viking.”

Elva smiled, reminding Kaireen of the rumors of her handmaid’s uncanny foresight.

Whispers of Elva making strange things happen and often blamed as the cause of

Kaireen’s stubborn refusal to behave as a laird’s daughter should.

“You’ve not seen him yet.” Elva wiggled her brows.

“So?” Kaireen shrugged. “I would like to never see him.”

“Well then, would you not like to know if you have a handsome husband or not?” She waited for her response, but Kaireen scowled. Elva chuckled. “I would rather get a good look at him now than the morning after.”

Kaireen’s ears heated. “I am not marrying.” She shook her head for emphasis. “So there will be no morning, nor night, nor wedding.”

“If he is handsome, I may fight you for him.” Elva smiled, deepening the wrinkles around her eyes.

“Welcome to him either way.” Kaireen laughed.

About Andrea

Growing up in Houston, Texas, Andrea has always created characters and stories. But it wasn't until she was in her late twenties that she started writing novels.

What happened that ignited the writing flame in her fingers? Divorced, and disillusioned by love songs and stories. They exaggerate. She thought. Love and Romance are not like that in the real world. Then she met her husband and realized, yes love and romance are exactly like the songs and stories say. She is now a happy wife, and a mom to three kids (two boys and a girl).

Andrea writes paranormal and historical romance. When not writing or reading, one may find Andrea dancing in Zumba.

She believes in the power of change and counting each moment as a blessing. But most importantly, she believes in love.

The Garnet Dagger Book Trailer http://youtu.be/ISi0u9LoseM

Viking Fire Book Trailer: http://youtu.be/m1bPZ3nUyzs

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AndreaRCooper.author

Twitter: https://twitter.com/AndreaRCooper

Author Website: www.AndreaRCooper.com

Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6934877.Andrea_R_Cooper

Blog: http://andrearcooperauthorblog.wordpress.com/

Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/andrearcooper/

Buy Links:

Crimson Romance ebooks

The Garnet Dagger Amazon: http://goo.gl/rMEJ59

The Garnet Dagger B & N: http://goo.gl/Qp5i6A

The Garnet Dagger iTunes: http://goo.gl/s1Cugp

Viking Fire Amazon: http://goo.gl/71VAsf

Viking Fire B & N: http://goo.gl/EvBxwf

Viking Fire iTunes: http://goo.gl/fQuKBd

If I Stopped Publishing, Would Anybody Notice?

Warning. I'm feeling sorry for myself.

Just got my royalty report for January from my main romance publisher. Yup, the total went down again. For the sixth month in a row. This is despite the fact that I had new releases in July, August, November and December.

And I have to say, I am starting to wonder why I bother. I mean, I love writing. I love interacting with my readers. I love blogging, too - the sense that I have a way to communicate with people around the globe.

I love giving things away.  ;^)

But I'm not sure I can afford to spend my time and my money on this any more. With what I spend on web hosting, advertising, and so on, my writing business is edging closer to being a true money-losing proposition. My husband drops frequent, not-so-subtle hints about how I could be devoting myself to more remunerative undertakings, as well as pointing out how stressed out I get sometimes about all the writing and marketing tasks to which I'm committed. He'd never tell me to stop writing, but I don't think he'd mind it all if I tapered off.

The depressing thing is, I suspect that if I simply disappeared from the world of publishing, it would make a difference to - oh - maybe a dozen people.

Am I angling for you readers to jump in and say, "Oh, don't feel bad, Lisabet! I love your writing. Don't stop! I'd miss you!"

Well, I wouldn't mind. I'd appreciate your support. That wouldn't do anything about my royalties, though, which offer hard-to-ignore evidence that very few readers really do love my writing.

Sigh. I know the revealed wisdom is that one shouldn't post negative stuff on one's blog.  Heck, though. It's my blog. If I can't vent here, then where?

And it could hardly make my sales worse, could it?

Don't worry. I'll probably feel better tomorrow. When I page through my notebook and see all the story ideas I have stacked up there, I wonder, how could I possibly stop?

Crazy, aren't I?

Anna and Alicia Do It: Self-Publishing in Our Fuck-You Fifties

By Anna Watson and Alicia Wag (Guest Bloggers)

At one point when I was flagging, feeling overwhelmed with the new-to-us juggling of logistics inherent in starting from scratch to self-publish, Alicia wrote me a bracing email, telling me that “we need to get our post-menopausal who-gives-a-flying-fuck-what-you-think-of-me attitude on!”

How right she was! I rallied, and since then, we’ve been cookin’ with lube, working our menopausal (yet still extremely fetching) tushies off on the creation of Laz-E-Femme Press and its first book, a 69, one side hers, one side mine.

We met over 20 years ago in a writing workshop – a straight-ahead writing workshop, back when we were both writing literary stories and working on novels. Alicia already had 2 kids, and as the years passed, would have 2 more; I was about to embark on parenthood, as well, and now have 2 teenagers. Somewhere along the line, both of us started writing a lot more smut, challenging each other to submit a manuscript to Black Lace (we neither of us made the cut, alas) and enjoying the freedom to write creatively about all manner of human sexual behavior.

Many years down the smut-writing road, we agree that, for us, kindness and joy must be at the heart of every one of our stories, even the ones that contain a hint of melancholy. Stories with mean streaks, tales of ugly revenge or humiliation don’t strike either one of us as sexy. Above all, we hope our stories will make people feel good about their own unique sexualities and sexiness, and perhaps give them an idea or two about something new and fun to try in or out of bed.

And the Fuck-You Fifties? That would be “fuck you” to naysayers, to the narrow view that the only kind of fucking that’s interesting is that of very young folks or that joyful, loving fucking isn’t the birthright of all of us, from sexual maturity right through middle and old age. We start our adventure in self-publishing with a book of collected smut, enjoying the chance to work together as writers and publishers, friends and sisters in porn.

We jumped at the chance to be guests here at Lisabet’s blog, thinking it would be a great deadline for us and that we would have the book all set up and ready to go by then…yeah, right! Many a slip twixt tit and lip, and all that, and currently we are slated to have a complete product for you avid smutters sometime in late March or early April. In the meantime, like us on Facebook, where you’ll hear all about Laz-E-Femme Press and our first release. And our slight publishing delay won’t stop us from bringing you off with a couple of excerpts. Kick off your pumps and read! And Lisabet, thanks so much for inviting us to stop by!

From "Mrs. M.: A Case of Female Hysteria" by Alicia Wag, Mrs. M: Stories by Alicia Wag (6) Laz-E-Femme Press

Dr. Fleisher found Mrs. Manning sitting on the edge of the table. She had taken off the long skirt of her dress, but left the bodice with the high, lacy collar. Her graceful, curved arms rested at each side of her like wings. Her bare hands sat unmoving in her lap. They looked soft and comfortable, the nails trimmed and neat.

She had neglected to unfold the blanket. The square it made barely covered her ample hips, and ended mid-thigh, so he could see her legs dangling lazily, and her pampered looking feet. Before he could stop the thought, he found himself thinking that she looked lovely. It horrified him. He had certainly found other hysterics attractive, but it was always an objective observation. “Mrs. Manning,” he whispered hoarsely, “Unfold the blanket and lie down.” He turned his head, listening to the sounds of Mrs. Manning shifting her body and the blanket into place. When silence fell, he said, “Ready?”

“Yes,” she answered.

Her eyes were closed as if in rapture, the lids fluttering almost imperceptibly, her lips parted, pink and moist. Dr. Fleisher walked to the foot of the table and seated himself in the chair there, unfolded the stirrups so they jutted out of each corner of the table like arms. “Move down,” he said. Mrs. Manning scooted her body closer, opening her eyes so she could see. “Put your feet here,” said Dr. Fleisher, pointing to the stirrups.

One foot, then the other peeked out from the edge of the blanket, landing perfectly in the wooden containers. Dr. Fleisher’s head was right between them, and up close, he saw that they were the smoothest, most perfect feet he had ever laid eyes on.

He pushed the blanket backwards, so that it draped over Mrs. Manning’s knees, between her legs, shrouding every part of her but those pretty feet. Even though technological improvements had enhanced pelvic massage treatments considerably, shortening their duration and providing greater relief for the patient, Dr. Fleisher found himself reaching for a jar. Mrs. Manning’s legs twitched erratically as he dipped his fingers into the warm, slick, scented oil. He put his other hand on the blanket, finding her knee and squeezing it. “Relax, now, Mrs. Manning.”

from “House of L” by Anna Watson, Slaphappy (9), Laz-E-Femme Press

When Sewer Rat first saw Hazard, she gave me a quizzical look, like, “This is what I’m supposed to work with?” I knew that she’d been dying to get her paws on him since she’d been allowed to watch me do some training with him. She confessed that he was so much her type that she’d spent her whole time behind the one-way mirror stroking her very cute little pussy. You wouldn’t know it from her ‘tude now, though, as she grumbled under her breath about the poor quality of clients these days, putting up her gloves and starting to circle her prey. She and Hazard were wearing the same thing – headgear, gloves, knee and elbow pads and spandex shorts, and they looked as pretty a matched pair as you could imagine.

“What happened to you, loser?” growled Sewer Rat. “Someone throw up on you?”

Hazard looked desperately at his impeccable outfit, searching for the problem, as Sewer Rat let out a loud, rasping laugh. She’s a cutie, that Rat, and I loved to see how much fear she was able to throw in Hazards direction. Now she was flowing through a cute little routine, dancing around the off-balance Hazard, sending out little experimental jabs. He parried, as instructed, but I could tell he was holding back, and so could she, so she unleashed a flurry of punches. Then, giving him no time to recover, she came around with a series of nicely executed kicks to his chest and belly. He went down nice and polite, moaning just a little bit. I picked up my bullhorn (nice touch, don’t you think?) and commanded him to get up again. Everyone in the room but him was grinning big. He managed to get upright relatively quickly. I expected Sewer Rat to get right back into Hazard’s drubbing, but she seemed to be kind of high on her mad little dance routines, feinting and skipping all over the mats. I reminded myself that she was still pretty inexperienced.

“Sewer Rat, concentrate!” I shouted. “Slap the little turd into next week!”

Alicia Wag has been published in The Mammoth Book of Erotica, Cleis Press's Best Women's Erotica series, "Just Watch Me: Erotica for Women," Clean Sheets, Hustler Fantasies, and Penthouse Variations

Anna Watson is usually found writing femme/butch smut in titles such as Best Lesbian Erotica, The Harder She Comes, Take Me There, Girl Crazy and Girls Who Score. In Slaphappy she takes a turn writing about girl/boy lovin’, but that doesn’t mean the characters and situations are 100% straight or anything, ‘kay?

Visit Laz E Femme on Facebook:   https://www.facebook.com/laz.e.femme?ref=hl

Rough Weather Snog and Release Party!

My paranormal romance Rough Weather is finally available on general release, and I'm celebrating!

You can now buy the book at Amazon US, Amazon UK, All Romance Ebooks and of course at Totally Bound (where every purchase earns you points toward free books!) I'm sure that it will be available at Barnes and Noble, too, in a couple of days.

I've got a brand new snog from the book for you below. And of course, in honor of the release, I've got a contest for you. In fact, I have two giveaways.

You can win a $10 bookstore gift certificate on this post today. All you have to do is read my kiss excerpt below and then leave a comment telling me why you enjoy paranormal stories. Be sure to include your email address. I'll randomly draw a winner next Sunday.

In addition, I have a contest going on all month long, at all the guest blogs I've scheduled about the book. You can win two ebooks, Rough Weather plus the sequel Hot Spell, where the characters of Marut and Ondine first appeared. To enter, send an email to contest [at] lisabetsarai [dot] com with the subject line “Rough Weather Giveaway”. Contest closes on March 31, 2014.

And of course, you can find sizzling kisses every Sunday over at Victoria's place. Why not pay her a visit?

She had been swimming in the dream, far from land, slicing through the sea with the speed of a shark, the grace of a dolphin, acutely aware of the burgeoning life around her, glorying in her freedom. The space below the surface had glowed like the interior of an emerald, lit by the sun above. Arousal hummed through her, wellbeing shading into something like need, but not urgent, not yet—merely a side effect of her finely tuned perception. She would let the ache build, gathering force and volume, until the flood of release was as inevitable as the tide.

Shadows had gathered overhead. The pellucid depths turned grey. Choppy swells churned above. Then with terrifying suddenness she’d been hooked—arrested in her liquid trajectory, dragged up into the air, sputtering and thrashing like the fish she sometimes resembled.

She had found herself suspended in lightning-shot blackness, hung by some pivot between her shoulder blades. Fierce winds swung her back and forth, whipping her hair into her face. Anger and terror warred in her chest.

“Release me!” she’d cried. The gale had ripped the words from her and flung them into the skies. “Let me go, whoever you…”

Firm lips had sealed hers before she could finish. Invisible in the swirling dark, someone took possession of her mouth, forcing it open with an unseen tongue and plunging within. She’d tasted winter frost and summer fruit, salt and iron, a hint of smoke. Hands wandered over her bare flesh, cool and knowing. A rough twist to an aching nipple. The scrape of a fingernail down her spine. A plump thumb prodded her quivering clit. Then a rigid bulk rooted itself in the slick cleft between her thighs.

She’d been soaked, despite her fear and indignation. She liquefied further as her shadow-clad assailant slid into her depths. Her simmering lust leapt to a boil. “Please, no…” she’d moaned into his demanding mouth, even as she clenched around the exquisite hardness invading her. A storm of sensation raged inside her as he arched up and inward, dragging the taut length of his cock across her clitoris. Electric bliss flashed from her core to her extremities.

He’d pulled her to his chest, mashing her breasts against smooth planes of skin and muscle. The arms restraining her were iron bands, inescapable despite her squirming. Wild winds coiled around them in a tightening spiral. She fought the pleasure, unwilling to be taken by a stranger, to have her freedom stripped from her so completely, but he was inexorable, driving closer to her crisis with each powerful thrust.

“Surrender to me.” His voice pierced her as surely as his cock, straight to the core. Melodious, gentle, it coaxed her to relinquish control. His soft words were not a command but an invitation. “You will never be complete until you surrender.”

Want more? Read my other Rough Weather snogs!

http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com/2013/12/sunday-snog-106-rough-weather.html

http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com/2014/01/sunday-snog-109-rough-weather.html

http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com/2014/02/sunday-snog-111-rough-weather.html

Like Mother, Like Son: An Interview with Tori Carson and Eric Clarke

Today I'm interviewing Tori Carson and Eric Clarke, a mother and son, both of who are multi-published with Totally Bound,  my own main romance publisher. I'm delighted to welcome them both to Beyond Romance!
 

To Tori: Which of your characters do you most identify with, and why?

Probably Nick and Laura Branson from Bondage Anniversary and Bondage Celebration. They’re married, juggling kids and careers. Their story is most similar to ours, though by no means were the books autobiographical.

Erik: No, my parents do not own a kink club. They’ve joked about opening one, though.

Tori: We were only kidding dear. Relax.

To Erik: Is it awkward telling your friends that your mother writes BDSM novels? How do you handle it?

It was a little weird at first, but it’s not really all that awkward for me anymore. Some of the people I’ve told about it don’t agree with the lifestyle and have made some comments about it, but to me, writing any novel, no matter the subject matter, is a huge achievement, and I tell them as much. If they don’t like it, they don’t have to read it. I’m just happy that my mom had been able to find a niche that she likes to write and that she can be successful in.

To Tori: What kind of interruptions throw you completely off track?

That’s an easy one to answer…a phone call from my father. Nothing will pull me out of a romantic mood faster than that.

Erik to Tori: Yeah, I can see that.

To Erik: How does it feel to have two books finished and set to be published before your 21st birthday? To what do you attribute your success?

It’s all still a little surreal, actually. I’ve been trying to write novels since way back in fifth grade, but I never actually thought I would get one finished, much less published. It’s been a crazy, amazing experience. I’d have to say the reason I’ve gotten this far is definitely the support of my family and friends—they’ve always told me to just keep writing, even when I wasn’t sure I’d actually get anywhere with it. They’ve really been the driving force to keep trying.

To Tori: What is your favorite book you have written thus far?

My favorite so far is The One and Only. I’m hoping it will be out in a few months. The characters really spoke to me and it was definitely the easiest one I’ve ever written.

To Erik: What are your plans for once you finish the Spellbound series? Do you have another story line in the works?

I actually have quite a few other story lines bouncing around in my head. I’m not sure which one I might settle on, but I’m thinking of going for something either a little more contemporary or futuristic. I have a pretty dark sci fi series I’ve been playing around with, so it would be nice to get that one written out.

To Tori: At what moment did you first really feel you were an author? 

*She laughs* I’ll let you know as soon as it happens. No, seriously, this has been such a dream come true that it still hasn’t completely sunk in yet. If I had to point to one moment it would have to be when I got an email from Totally Bound telling me Bondage Anniversary made the All Romance ebooks bestseller list.

Congratulations!

Thank you!

To Erik: What character most surprised you?

Probably Syler, the lead character of my second book, Monster. In Night, my first one, the main character has a lot of issues with guilt and shame, so for the next one I wanted to make a character that was the opposite of that—unapologetic, irreverent. When I was imagining him, the word I kept coming back to was “asshole”. *He laughs* But then when I actually wrote him into that book, into these situations that test him and put him up against his counterpart, Max, I found a real depth of character that I never would’ve expected. You figure out that the asshole is really just a mask, and I hadn’t actually planned any of that, so he was a real surprise in that sense.

To Tori: What is your favorite part of the writing process?

Writing the rough draft. Turning my imagination loose and just seeing where the stories go is the best part for me.

To Erik: How does it feel to be going to through this process with your mother?

It’s great having someone there who really gets what it’s like going through the whole wringer of writing and editing and publishing and marketing. It helps us support one another. Our first books got picked up at about the same time, too, though hers is a few weeks ahead of mine, so it’s also really nice to have her going through everything first by a little bit so I have an idea of what’s coming.

To both: What is on the horizon for the two of you? What can your readers be on the lookout for?

Tori: We both agreed to six books. Bondage Anniversary came out in January, Bondage Celebration comes out February 14^th, Bondage Wedding will be released March 21^st and Bondage Seduction will be released June 15^th.

Erik: Night went out to the major markets at the end of February. Monster will be released May 16^th. The third installment should be coming out this summer.

To both: If your readers want to learn more, how can they find you?

Tori: My website is http://toricarson.com You can also find me on Facebook https://www.facebook.com/pages/Tori-Carson-Romance-Author/1375204056027398

Erik: My website is http://erikclarke.com You can find me on Facebook as well.

https://www.facebook.com/pages/Erik-Clarke/460431097382042

Link to Erik Clarke books on TB website

https://www.totallybound.com/index.php?route=product/author/info&author_id=331#books

Link to Tori Carson books on TB website  

https://www.totallybound.com/index.php?route=product/author/info&author_id=330#books

Historical? Or Contemporary? Do I have to choose?

By Sabrina York (Guest Blogger)

I love writing romances, and happily write in any genre. When readers ask if I prefer writing historical or contemporary, I simply cannot choose. But I will say this, writing contemporary steamy romances takes a lot less research!

For example, there is no need to research what kind of underwear women might wear in the early 2000’s, because I have a pretty good idea. The Regency period? Not so much. And when you’re an erotic author little things, like bloomers, become suddenly significant.

This probably wouldn’t be a problem, if I weren’t a history nerd. I love to read dusty old tomes and snoop around on historical websites looking for tidbits I can roll into one of my stories. I go off to look up one little fact in the morning, and next thing I know, it’s time to make dinner and I haven’t written a word. Well, I have pages and pages of notes, but those hardly count.

I made a lot of historical errors in my first Regency, Folly, but fortunately my publisher employs excellent final line editors with an eye for anachronisms, and I received a long list of things to fix (see aforementioned bloomers). I had to rewrite three scenes because of those stupid bloomers.

When I started on my second erotic Regency, Dark Fancy, it was a little easier. I had my cheat sheets to make sure bloomers and the dreaded Tantalus did not appear. But I still made some interesting faux pas, using terms or words that were not in use during that period.

For example, people did not “fantasize” about things back then, because that word was not used in that manner. One of my favorite resources when writing historicals is the Online Etymology Dictionary: http://www.etymonline.com/index.php?term=entomology. If you’re a history nerd like me, you’ll love it.

My third Regency, (Dark Duke, the 3rd book in the Noble Passions Series) is out now. And yes. I did do research on whether or not a lord of the realm might occupy his time writing naughty novels with even naughtier pictures. I even found a wicked Earl to base him on!

As far as researching my contemporary stories, that can be just as much fun. And tax deductible. For example, though I’ve been before, when my characters happen to visit that famous restaurant on the wharf below Pike Place Market in Seattle, it stands to reason I should check it out. You know. Just to make sure I got the details right. I make it a point to take photos of my meal, so I can show them to my accountant. If she asks.

In Devlin’s Dare, Tara is horrified when a food critic slams her bakery for not having gluten free pastries. So naturally, I did a lot of research on gluten free baked goods. I have to admit, I introduced the element into the book because I needed to learn more about how to sate my ravenous appetite for pastries when I couldn’t eat gluten. You would be surprised at how many options are out there like Cream Cheese muffins and Chocolate Cake with no flour. I discovered that there are lots of great ways to create tasty gluten free foods. Cauliflower makes an awesome pizza crust and delicious fried “rice.”

The research methods and needs may vary, but regardless, it’s always fun investigating the elements of a new book, whether it’s historical or contemporary or fantasy, or a space opera. I feel fortunate that, as an erotic romance author, I can explore multiple genres and write the stories as they come to me, regardless of the time period. Or planet. Or dimension.

Happy Reading!

Dark Duke by Sabrina York

Noble Passions, Book Three

Edward Wyeth, the Dark Duke of Moncrieff’s life has been turned on its end. His well-ordered home has been invaded. By destitute relatives. From Scotland. How on earth can he write Lord Hedon’s salacious novels with hellions battling in the garden and starting fires in the library? But with the onslaught has come a delicious diversion. His cousin’s companion, the surprisingly intriguing Kaitlin MacAllister. He is determined to seduce her. Using her desperate need for funds and her talents as an artist, he convinces her to draw naughty pictures for his naughtier books…and he draws her into his decadent web.

But Kaitlin has a secret. She’s fled Scotland—and a very determined betrothed. When Edward’s cousin is kidnapped and held in her stead, Kaitlin is honor bound to return to her homeland and rescue her—much to Edward’s chagrin.

Because suddenly he can’t bear the thought of Kaitlin marrying another man. He can’t bear the thought of losing her at all.

A Romantica® Regency historical erotic romance from Ellora’s Cave

Excerpt

Edward skirted the mêlée in the garden and made his way to the far end of the estate, where there was nothing but flowers and trees and a placid little pond. Nothing to attract diminutive fiends bent on mischief. He would sit in the folly until his temperature returned to normal.

Perhaps until spring.

Dear God. He’d had no idea having the Wyeths of Perth take over his house would be such a nightmare. If he had suspected as much, he would have turned them away at the start. They would probably have crawled in under the door. Through the cracks in the flue. Vermin had a way of finding entrance.

But now. Now they were here.

Entrenched.

He had to get rid of them.

Perhaps he could send them back to Scotland.

Scotland would revile him for it, but he had little use for rocky tors, lochs and sheep.

Then he thought of Violet and his heart lurched. It would crush her to be trundled back to what she referred to as “the bleak wilderness.” She was looking forward to a glittering season in London. She was seventeen. She needed a husband. A husband of quality. That might be difficult to find in the wilds of Scotland.

And Ned. Ned was twenty. He was just starting to find his way with the ton. He’d made some friends—decent fellows. He’d even been receiving invitations to game at White’s.

The two of them—the normal two—deserved better than being lumped in with the rest.

He whacked at a rosebud as he passed. It exploded into a flutter of petals. He refused to feel any sympathy.

He couldn’t send them packing.

Then what?

Hell. He was a duke of the realm. He had six houses spread throughout the empire. Why hadn’t he thought to purchase a spare in London?

Aha!

That was brilliant.

He would. He’d buy them their own house. Move them all, lock stock and—well, maybe not the barrels, as the older boys did like to drink. He’d move them all into their own domicile.

With Aunt Hortense. Let her manage them.

His life would once again be orderly. He would be the master of his own abode. Free to pursue the life of a wealthy dilettante.

Perfect.

He rounded the bend with a satisfied smile on his face. The trickle of the fountain in the pond was a balm to his tormented soul. Birds sang in the trees. The sun—well, it almost shone. It was a beautiful day.

Soon, the world would be right again.

Soon, they would all be gone.

He skipped up the steps of the folly with a lightness of heart he hadn’t felt in ages. A book on the bench snagged his attention and his mood dipped, but only a bit. Someone had been here. But they were gone.

He picked it up and flipped through it and stilled.

Good God.

It was a sketch book.

The first page was an attempt at this scene. The flowers and trees, the pond and the little fountain. Not very good. But the second arrested his attention. It was a simple line drawing of Violet. And it was stunning. The artist had managed to depict her beauty, but also captured that glint in her eye, the particular quirk of her lips. 

Her soul.

The next sketch was one of Ned, showing a brash young man, standing insouciantly with his hands shoved into his pockets, whistling a silent tune. The next was of the twins—whatever their names were—dark heads together plotting some manner of mayhem.

It was so realistic Edward expected them to leap from the page and whack him with a cricket bat.

But it was the last sketch in the book that stole his breath. It was a portrait, in profile. His own face. But not an Edward he would ever recognize. This man was heroic, tragic, a solitary soldier. It was only a few lines drawn in charcoal, but it revealed so much about him. Things he didn’t want anyone to ever know.

It was horrifying. And remarkable.

“Your Grace.”

He snapped the book shut and spun around.

Of course. What’s her name. The girl. The owl. From last night.

“Oh, you found it.” She stepped into the folly and took the book from his hands. He did not know why he let it go.

“You left it here.” An accusation. Really? He hadn’t intended for it to come out like that.

She chuckled. “I had to go rescue Hamish. I was coming back.”

“What…why did you have to rescue Hamish?” This was her work? She saw him like that? And hell, she was a damn fine hand. How he would love to turn such talent to…darker purposes. What a pity she was such a prude. The kind of work he could offer her would make her rich—rich enough to quit serving as Violet’s companion.

But she would never do it. No decent woman would.

He must be crazed, truly crazed, to even think on it.

The gripping sketch of his wounded countenance lingered in his brain. If she could do that, if she could see through to his soul and bring it to life on paper—

“And then he got stuck. In the tree. So I had to rescue him.”

Lord. She’d been talking. He’d missed the entire explanation. No matter. The question had been purely rhetorical.

“How long have you been drawing?”

She winced, clutched the book to her breast. He recalled what fine breasts they were. “I… What?”

“How long have you been drawing? You’re quite good.”

“You looked at my book?” She squawked as though he’d just admitted to peering up her skirts. The lemony face returned. A beetled brow and pursed lips. It was, upon reflection, rather adorable.

“It was lying here.”

“You shouldn’t look at someone’s sketchbook.”

“You shouldn’t leave it where it can be found.” He crossed his arms over his chest and grinned at her. Damn, he loved her accent.

She sputtered. “I told you. Hamish and Tay—”

“Tay?”

“Taylor. Hamish and Taylor were building a fort in a tree—”

“Yes. Yes. I know. You had to rescue him. Tell me, have they always been this much trouble?”

She blew out a breath. “You have no idea.”

They both laughed. It was a nice moment, because it seemed, for that brief flash of time, they were friends, bound in mutual misery.

And then he went and ruined it by letting his lust intrude. “So tell me, what did you think of that book?”

She tipped her head. “What book?”

“The one I gave you last night.”

She blinked several times, as though she had to try very hard to remember. “Oh. That book. I didn’t read it.”

He stepped closer. “Ah. You like to look at the pictures, then?” He knew the sort.

“Look at the… What? No, your Grace—”

“Edward.” He infused his voice with a low thrum.

“Your Grace. I didn’t have a chance to open it.”

Why petulance curled within him, he had no clue. “What do you mean you didn’t have a chance to open it?” She was supposed to have read it. Or at least looked at the pictures. She was supposed to be gazing at him, right now, with a dewy look.

She brushed an invisible speck from her skirt. “There was…a distraction.”

Well hell. “What kind of distraction?”

Her lips pursed. The look she shot him was not dewy in the slightest.

Still, he wanted to kiss her.

He wasn’t sure why. She was certainly not the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. But her face had character and charm—especially when she smiled. Her figure was full—the way he liked them—but she didn’t show it off to its best effect. In fact, if he hadn’t known what lay beneath the thick layers of crinoline and bombazine, he would have been fooled. She was prickly as a hedgehog and smacked him down at every turn.

So why did he want to pull her into his arms and smother her mouth with his?

Perhaps because of all those things.

Then again, perhaps just because.

So he did.

He took the girl—whose name he could not remember, whose face he could not forget—into his arms and kissed her. It was a gentle buss, as kisses went, but extremely sublime. Because he’d surprised her.

Her lips were open, as though poised to speak. He took full advantage, sweeping in his tongue to dab at hers, nibbling and licking and tasting her sweet breath.

The prick at his side was not a surprise. He’d expected it.

He lifted his head and stared down into her eyes. Her expression was dazed and determined and perhaps a little dewy. “Not this time, darling,” he murmured. He took the knife from her hand and tossed it aside and then pulled her more fully against him.

And ah. She was soft. Sweet. Her breasts pressed against his chest. Her hips molded the cradle of his groin. Of course, he was the one doing the molding, but she didn’t fight him.

No. She sighed and tipped her head to the side so he could deepen the kiss. She tasted like ambrosia. A tantalizing flavor of cinnamon and woman and surrender. His ardor rose, and with it, his cock. He rubbed it against her belly.

She stiffened and tried to push away, muttering something into his mouth that sounded like “No.”

He changed his tack, running his lips down her cheek and along the line of her jaw to nestle in the crook of her neck. She shuddered. Some groan-like sound emanated from her throat. She clutched at his hair.

Thusly encouraged, he sucked at the tender skin of her neck. Nipped.

“Oh! Saints preserve us,” she whispered.

“The saints don’t care,” he responded, switching to the other side of her neck. He found a spot that delighted her even more and feasted there. In her distraction, she didn’t stop the palm skimming over her ribs to cup a breast.

He encased her. Ah. Exquisite. Full and round and pliable. He thumbed a nipple, testing its rigidity. She dipped as her knees gave way. He caught her. Swung her up in his arms and carried her to the bench.

From long experience, he knew better than to give a woman a moment to think. So as soon as he had her settled across his lap and firmly braced against the wall of the folly, he kissed her again. With one hand, he stroked her nipples while with the other, he slowly drew up her skirts.

About Sabrina York

Her Royal Hotness, Sabrina York is the award winning author of over 20 hot, humorous stories for smart and sexy readers. Her titles range from sweet & sexy erotic romance to scorching BDSM. Connect with her on twitter @sabrina_york, on Facebook or on Pintrest. Check out Sabrina’s books and read an excerpt on Amazon or wherever e-books are sold. Visit her webpage at www.sabrinayork.com to check out her books, excerpts and contests. Free Teaser Book: http://sabrinayork.com/home-2/sabrina-yorks-teaser-book/ And don’t forget to enter to win the royal tiara!

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